who even spent weeks making this

rule breakers. (m)

based on the prompt, “best friend’s sibling au”

pairing:
kim taehyung | reader
genre/warnings: fluff, light smut / language, slight voyeurism
word count: 20,453
description: there’s some unresolved history involving your best friend’s brother… but hey, maybe some rules are meant to be broken.
a/n: i get inspired by the oddest little tidbits, and i swear the word count was supposed to be half the amount you see up there. also, say hello to the longest one-shot i’ve done so far.

Originally posted by kths

You have one of the greatest fortunes to be acquainted with the Kims in your first year of primary education, and perhaps it’s what has led you to one of your greatest downfalls (but we’ll get into that later on).

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anonymous asked:

What's your opinion on the theory that Dipper is treated unfairly throughout GF? For example, Dipper sacrifices a lot for Mabel, while she only seems to sacrifice her sock-puppet show for him. There are also many suggestions in the show that some episodes overlap, like that from July 11-15, Sock Opera, Blendin's Game and Into the Bunker overlap. Which means D was under a LOT of pressure that week and he sacrificed a LOT for his sister. But she doesn't thank him for that. What are your thoughts?

See, maybe it’s the big sister in me, because I’ve never understood this particular complaint. The fact is, Dipper loves Mabel so much that her happiness is his own; his actions of sacrifice on her behalf are freely chosen. That’s why Bill’s behavior in “Sock Opera” is so insidious; he builds on Dipper’s momentary frustration with Mabel (why won’t she help me?!?!) by bringing up the various ways he’s helped her in the past, implying that she hasn’t done much to return the favor. He seeks to engender resentment where there was none, where Dipper was previously unwilling to give him so much as a stitch of Mabel’s puppet show; hey, she worked hard on those.

The key assertion I have to address here is that “Dipper sacrifices a lot for Mabel, while she only seems to sacrifice her sock-puppet show for him.” I imagine that viewers come to the conclusion that Dipper has the losing end because, when they compare Dipper’s problems to Mabel’s, they see Dipper’s as more serious. Dipper has a crush he can’t shake (relatable), Mabel is gaga over a pig she just saw at the fair (less relatable); Dipper is pursuing the latest lead in his search for the Author (important), Mabel is rigging up an elaborate puppet show to impress the Boy of the Week (unimportant). Yet the show is always keenly aware that Mabel’s problems, as trivial as they may seem to us, are as important to her as Dipper’s are to him. Bill highlights this when he says, “Who would sacrifice everything they’d worked for just for their dumb sibling?”, causing Mabel to respond, “Dipper would.” Dipper’s “everything” is his investigation of Gravity Falls and Mabel’s “everything” is her puppet show, but each of their projects is everything. Coming from Mabel, the sacrifice of the sock puppet show–and, by extension, of a shot at the “epic summer romance” she’s been seeking as ardently as Dipper has been seeking the answers to his questions–is a very real loss, one she’s willing to accept because Dipper would do and has done as much for her.

Nor is Mabel’s puppet show the only casualty of her greater love for her brother; the loss of her dream world is no mean thing. Mabeland might not be to everyone’s taste (I would personally have thinned out the crowd and lowered the 80s club music a notch), but it’s Mabel’s ideal universe; it’s a world where everything is as she wants it, where she’s never bored or lonely, where every boy loves her, where the high court judge is a kitten. With the threat of change weighing on her and the most important relationship of her life under siege, the prison bubble presents Mabel with an irresistible retreat. Bill, who has banked on human greed in the past to great success, believes that the trap is inescapable, that no one handed all their heart’s desires on a plate will be capable of leaving (just as Mabel is taken in by her desperation to stop time, Dipper wavers when presented with the possibility of growing up on the spot). But without Dipper, all of it is hollow; she prefers in the end to leave her safe place and to follow him into an uncertain world.

For much of the show, Dipper is the more responsible one within the context of their relationship. Regardless of actual birth order, Mabel is the baby; sometimes the baby gets in a habit of relying on charm to carry her through, taking it for granted that her older siblings will always step up to the plate on her behalf, because she’s just that cute (looking at you, youngest sibling in my own family). But if Mabel’s occasional thoughtlessness with regard to Dipper is a character flaw, it’s worth measuring against the depth of her concern for the world at large, a quality that Dipper himself, who tends to value his select group, could stand to learn from. Dipper’s only real issue with the destruction of Northwest Manor and all of its visitors is that Mabel happens to be among them; Mabel is the first to see the potential for redemption in Pacifica, even though Dipper is the one who becomes close to her.

But Mabel loves Dipper more than anyone, and she is grateful to him for everything he does for her and shows it. She apologizes to him at the end of “Sock Opera” for letting a transient enthusiasm skew her priorities: “I spent all week obsessing over a dumb guy. But the dumb guy I should have cared about was you.” After escaping the prison bubble, she makes it clear to him that he can stay with Ford if he wants to–her noblest moment in the series, because Dipper is her entire world, infinitely more to her than crushes and pet pigs and magical trees that grow stuffed animals. He stays with her, not out of guilty obligation, but because he wants to be with her–because she’s his best friend, because growing up without her would be unthinkable. He’s a fair-minded guy, not one to take the fall without good reason–when he operates against her in “The Time-Traveler’s Pig,” he does so on the assumption that her pig is an enthusiasm of the moment and that his love for Wendy is permanent. When he realizes that losing Waddles will truly hurt her, he doesn’t hesitate. “I could never break your heart, Mabel.”

But look at how she thanks him. She knows this wasn’t easy for him and she’s ready to show him how much it means to her. She tackles him in sheer strength of feeling. She lifts him right off his feet.

Treated unfairly? Dipper gets back everything he gives away with interest. Dipper’s happiness is his sister’s happiness and he always gets it because he is her happiness. Dipper is a lucky kid.

Running Out of Time: Bellamy and His Feelings

Obviously, there was a lot to unpack from the Bellarke Beach Scene 2: Hugless Boogaloo, but what I thought was most interesting was what it tells us about Bellamy’s emotional status.  The line I think was most telling was It’s pathetic, right?  She hates me but I keep coming back for more because there’s just so much desolation in those two sentences, starting with it’s pathetic.  That line lands like a value judgment on himself– he is pathetic for still loving his sister, despite her hatred of him.  It also speaks to his feelings of helplessness, both with Octavia and with their larger situation: there is not a goddamn thing he can do to make his sister forgive him or stop the end of the world, but he’s still going to keep trying.  But even though he’s not giving up, he also sort of has– he’s given up on the idea of surviving, really.  He’s got faith in Clarke (and Raven), but the cynic inside of him keeps whispering there’s no surviving this so he’s decided he’s just going to do his best to make things right.

And where things stand right now, there’s two important people in his life: Clarke and Octavia.  Other people matter to him, of course, but those two women are his primary concern.  Things are pretty good with Clarke and pretty terrible with Octavia, so when faced with the choice of “where to go from here” he chooses Octavia because Bellamy doesn’t want to die with her hating him.  He knows that still might happen but he has to at least try to fix it, even if it seems pointless.  He could have chosen Clarke and gone over to Science Island and spent his last few weeks on earth with someone who trusts him and loves him and supports him, but that would mean sacrificing any chance to put things right with Octavia.

And make no mistake: Bellamy does not see them coming out of this alive.  He thinks this is the end, and that’s part of what is hanging over his head when he says it’s pathetic.  Because he’s not just talking about returning to Octavia for more abuse, he’s talking about how he’s spent the last nine months fighting to keep everyone alive, often at great cost to his own moral values, only for everyone to die anyway.  He hasn’t reached Jasper’s level of nihilism and I honestly doubt he will, but there is a certain fatalistic attitude leaking through in this scene that punches me in the gut.  He feels pathetic and pointless, and so all that’s left is to try and get his sister to love him before they die.

But there is one thing left to tell Clarke, and that’s how he feels about her.  Guys, when he says Clarke, if I don’t see you again, there’s really only one way to end that sentence.  He has made it clear he loves her through his actions time and time again– letting her go in 216, going after her in 302, telling her he doesn’t want to be angry with her in 313, trusting her in 315 and 316, being there for her at her absolute lowest in 403– but he’s never actually said it.  It’s literally the last thing left to do, and standing next to her on that beach, he really does think it could be the last time he sees her, and not just because of praimfaya.

It’s because over the course of the last few days, Bellamy has thought his sister died and watched their best hope for surviving the apocalypse go up in flames.  And in the course of the previous twelve hours, he thought Clarke was dead and/or that he would watch her die twice.  Clarke might not make it back before the radiation hits, or she might die from a stray arrow or an ambush or 400 other things that could go wrong.  He knows that life is uncertain in their world and he’s not sure he’ll ever see her again.  Thanks to Echo, Bellamy knows what it feels like when someone you love dies with things unsaid, so he steels himself for what is about to be a painful admission because he knows he loves her and he knows she loves him, but he also thinks Clarke doesn’t love him in the same way.  He’s not planning on telling her this because he thinks she’ll reciprocate, he’s planning on telling her he loves her because that’s all there is left to do.

But Clarke stops him.  First of all, guys, she fucking knows what he’s about to say.  They just spent an entire episode being Drift Compatible as fuck, and she just said she’ll see how special you are which is a weird fucking thing to say about someone’s sibling (I don’t really need to see how special my brother is; I  need to remind him of how we used to play chicken while sledding and I won every fucking time because he’s a goddamn chickenso you cannot tell me she would have been surprised if he said I love you.  Clarke was talking about her feelings for Bellamy here and pretending it was about Octavia because right now, feelings are painful for Clarke.  (If you’re special wasn’t a significant admission for Clarke she wouldn’t have broken eye contact after she said it.)  She’ll see how special you are is as close to I love you as Clarke can get at the moment, and I do think that if Bellamy was wavering (do I tell her I love her?  Or do I leave that unsaid because she’s not ready to hear it?) having Clarke tell him he matters was all he needed to decide.

Except Clarke sees where this is going and stops him, but not just because hearing Bellamy Blake say I love you when she’s still a tangled mess of grief and fear would be too much.  She stops him because she knows he’s saying it because he’s giving up hope, but she hasn’t yet.  She believes they can survive this so there’s no need for last minute love confessions.  In Clarke’s mind they have a future, and letting Bellamy say this might be the last time I see you so you need to know I love you is just too painful to contemplate.  Bellamy was ready to say goodbye, but Clarke isn’t.

I’m honestly not sure if Bellamy would have said it anyway if Roan hadn’t interrupted them.  He wasn’t looking convinced, at any rate, and I suspect if Roan hadn’t blown the Time Out From Feelings Whistle, Bellamy would have gone through with it.  Not because he doesn’t consider Clarke’s feelings important, but because he’s desperate.  This is it: the finish line is approaching, so make your peace and get ready for whatever comes next.

But Clarke didn’t stop Bellamy because she didn’t want to hear that he loves her; she stopped him because in her mind, there’s still time.  It wasn’t “If you love me I’d rather die not knowing,” it was “Please don’t say goodbye to me because I haven’t given up hope.”  Clarke is an expert at last-minute love confessions but she’s not ready to say they’ve reached that point.  She has hope that there will be time later to talk about this, so she doesn’t say I don’t want to hear it she says we’ll talk about this later.  Because Clarke has decided there will be a future for Bellamy, whether he believes in it or not.

shady-swan-jones  asked:

i have just the thing for to wake your fluff muse up: cs + You just woke up from surgery and you don’t remember me or that we’re married or have a kid because you’re so high but you flirt with me anyway au

okay, so, wanna hear something hilarious? sophie sent this prompt to me     A G E S  ago, and i started writing it, and then it got lost in the abyss. i’m so glad you sent it to me again. so…take two! i hope you like it!

also, to @killiansdevotedheart! surprise! i’m your CSSV! consider this your pre-gift because i’m still working on your actual gift but i want you to still have something. enjoy for now!

TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME SO

Emma knows she shouldn’t be so worried. It’s a simple appendectomy, after all—the removal of an organ human biology deemed no longer very useful years ago. She shouldn’t be so worried, especially after the doctors assured her she brought him in just in time.

(“A few more days and we would have had a mess on our hands. You did good, Emma, even if it meant dragging him here against his will.”)

Doctors assurances don’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, because it’s Killian, after all—

Killian, who spent two weeks in pain because he didn’t want to trouble her.

Killian, who sat through Henry’s ceremony in utter pain because he didn’t want to miss it.

Killian, who let his appendix almost burst because he didn’t want to be a burden.

— And yet she’d murder him herself if he didn’t make it out of this, adding a whole new meaning to the whole “til death do us part” portion of their vows.

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Disappearance

She knew it would be strange and lonely to study abroad. She knew she’d feel lost, bewildered. It even had a name - culture shock. Like something benign, almost. Like jumping into a cold stream on a hot day, her mother said, it almost blanks your mind out to start with, but if you tough it out and stay in it, you adjust.

But she didn’t adjust, was the thing. It wasn’t just the distance, staying up late or getting up early to put fuzzy, stuttering skype calls through to her family, writing letters and postcards when that stopped working so well. It wasn’t the differences in language, the big and small adjustments she had to make for culture. (Why did Americans have to smile so wide, talk so loud?)

The place was weird was the thing. There were a thousand better words maybe - unsettling, abnormal, offset - but it all just boiled down to weird.

Home - England - could be weird too, but that was home weird, a right and natural weird. A weird of small tree copses and unloved council estates, of dark shadows traipsing the motorways and black dogs in the fog. She knew that magic. She’d tasted it already, knew the poisoned honey taste of it on her tongue. Merlin and Arthur sleeping until a prophesised time of great need, The Beast of Bodmin roaming wild, the sun behind the stones at Avebury.

Oh, she saw them, the gentry of Elsewhere University, she saw them in shadows and from the corners of her eyes and reflected in smooth surfaces. She knew them for legend and myth, she knew them - but she didn’t know them, either. They were different here, like the people were. She avoided eye contact, and never listened to the music from the lake no matter how beautiful it was, and when that pretty couple at the bar asked her home she didn’t go, because they smelled like chamomile flowers and poppies and blood.

It might have been fun, though.

She got fewer and fewer responses to her letters. Skype didn’t work at all any more. She made no friends, and none of her teachers remembered her name for more than three minutes. (she counted, on a stopwatch.)

She was disappearing, bit by bit from life, and no-one would care, no-one would remember. Nothing left of her.

She thought, in sharp jagged moments, of forcing some kind of remembrance. Of some kind of destructive public display - But she didn’t want to hurt herself, didn’t want to bring herself back into the world through destroying herself.

There was another option, her reflection said to her, when she looked into it too long. You’re vanishing anyway, what does it matter? It’s beautiful, you know, it’s beautiful.

She spent days, weeks, centuries in her room, letting the dust gather over her, hands pressed to her face. Or maybe it was just days, and there was no dust.

Once, as a child, she’d had a friend who wasn’t there. An invisible friend, as so many children do, only - only - she knew. She knew the way magic felt on her skin, tangled up in her heart. She’d never even known she missed it so intently, like some organ in her that had been torn out and only now started aching.

It wasn’t so hard, in the end, to make the choice. To walk out on a cold clear night, when the moon was a thin crescent, and to say Yes.

-

And in the end it got boiled down, reduced to a new legend. The international student who couldn’t handle the change any more, who got stressed and gave herself away.

No-one even remembers her name.

[x]

til the stars go blue | everyone tries to pick up the pieces after robert’s breakdown

Ao3 link

It’s raining when Robert gets discharged. Of course it is, what else would it do?

Vic picks him up. Her eyes are worried and she’s chewing her lip. Robert can’t blame her, he knows what he looks like, worn paper thin and fraying around the edges.

“You alright?” she asks.

Robert gives her a look. He’s not really, but he’s alive. That’ll have to do for now.

They’re quiet in the car, just the sound of rain and the wipers thumping. He watches Vic open her mouth to say something six times before she find the words.

“Are they sure you’re okay to come home? You still seem pretty out of it.”

Robert nods. He is. He can feel the person he used to be but it’s like a coat that doesn’t fit right, he can’t seem to put it back on.

“I’ll be fine,” he tells her.

He can see her frown, not convinced. Robert wishes he didn’t feel the same way.

They’re quiet for a while longer before she cracks again.

“Aaron wanted to come,” she says, voice bright. False. “I told him you asked me to come on my own but he’s waiting for you at home.”

It’s like an ice bath, like being back in that lake. Robert can’t breathe right. “I can’t face him. Not yet.”

“What? Robert he loves you. He’s been worried sick, especially when you wouldn’t let anyone visit.”

Robert doesn’t want Aaron to worry about him. He doesn’t want Aaron to think about him at all.

He doesn’t say anything in the end, can’t make his mouth work.

They stop at a red light and she looks over at him, hands at ten and two like dad taught them. “You know I love you right?” she asks. “You know that, don’t you?”

Robert nods. He can’t feel it, but rationally he knows she has to love him at least half as much as he loves her. That’s more than enough.

He rests his head against the window when they pull off, suddenly exhausted. Watches it rain.

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prompt from @onefootone: I lowkey want superfamily goes paint balling or something of the like, and it’s decided alex and maggie aren’t allowed on the same team, but it’s lowkey ike vasquez who kicks everyones ass.

You got it buddy.


So for reasons that should be obvious to anyone with a brain, the DEO has its own paintball facility for training and stress relief purposes. While billed to the government for training new agents, team building, and new weapons training, Director not-Henshaw often made the grounds available to agents looking to let loose a little, provided they brought their own ammo and filed the proper waivers with Pam in HR.

Both Maggie and Alex have an unhealthy obsession with firearms, and while Lucy can hold her own, the firing range isn’t exactly her preferred form of foreplay. But for Maggie’s birthday, Lucy could make an exception. She planned it on her own because Alex was a useless lesbian who, badass as she was in the field, caved at the slightest hint of dimples and big starry brown eyes. Lucy would have caved too, to be honest, but she’d spent the last two weeks in DC and emailed the forms back and forth with Pam.

Lucy even managed to line up some decent players. James convinced Winn to come. J’onn’s reluctance was always more about image, he was thrilled to spend time with his kids. Kara, of course, had to be reminded repeatedly that her powers were not allowed.

When Kara mentioned Lena was coming, Lucy had to scramble to find someone to balance out the teams, and Vasquez was the solution. Easy-peasy. At least she knew Vasquez wouldn’t accidentally shoot someone in the throat, which is more than she could say for Winn.

Weeks of preparation, and a freak snow storm in Ohio nearly ruined everything. But Lucy was a planner with Supergirl on speed dial, so she and her gear were on site with minutes to spare. Exhausted, and not nearly as paintball-chic as intended, but whatever, her girlfriends knew she was hot.

Alex pulls up with Maggie in a DEO SUV, Vasquez in the back, ready for the cross training exercise J’onn had ordered them to, completely surprised to see their friends geared up and ready to go. Vas takes their time getting out, gathering up everyone’s gear and all the extra ammo they had snuck in when Alex and Maggie were busy making out. Maggie and Alex hurried out, but made sure to throw an extra swing into their hips to greet Lucy.

James may have had to clear his throat to get their attention. May have.

It didn’t really work. Space Dad’s “Ladies, please,” had a little more effect.

They stepped apart anyway. Inches was apart, right?

Lucy smiled. “Happy birthday, Sawyer.”

“Wait, seriously?” Maggie narrowed her eyes. “You hate shooting things with us.”

“Yes, everyone here is aware you two are weird. That’s why rule number one is you two aren’t allowed to pair up. Rule number two is no alien super powers, Kara.”

“Hey! J’onn has powers!”

Lucy quirked an eyebrow and looked back over her shoulder, “J’onn doesn’t use them to check and see how far away his pizza guy is. No powers.”

“Any more rules?” Alex asked.

“No headshots, no throat shots, and no leaving the boundaries. Teams of two, last man or team standing wins.”

“Dibs on James,” said Maggie.

“Kara,” called Alex.

Lucy frowned, she had hoped Alex would be willing to protect Winn. “Winn.”

Vasquez looked a little peeved to have been left with their boss. Oh well, at least Vas wasn’t getting stuck with Winn, J’onn could at least shoot.

Pam was in the camera room with playback and the counter, because of course she wasn’t missing this. She had also come with the waiver Winn hadn’t signed because, face it, Schott, it’s your choice to come out here and get obliviated.

She wasn’t wrong. Kara knocked out Winn second after J’onn, who hadn’t put up much of a fight when Alex cornered him. Poor Vasquez.

Lucy, half up a tree and relying on her small stature to hide her, managed to nab a hulking James, who was not able to hide too easily amongst the smaller obstacles. She never saw the shot that took her out, or where it came from, but she certainly cursed loudly when it knocked her ten feet to the ground, paint staining the back of her black tee. Dutifully, Lucy raised her gun above her head and marched back to the hut where Pam and the rest of the losers kept watch on the cameras.

Lucy was stunned to see Kara go down next. There was no way she was abiding by the rules, her superhearing was second nature. Alex, creeping through the brush was next, getting clipped as she stepped out to take a shot at Maggie’s unprotected back.

Maggie turned at Alex’s cursing, diving just in time to avoid Vasquez’s shot. No matter what Winn and Pam did with the cameras, they couldn’t seem to find Vasquez on the map, even calculating possibly trajectories based off of Alex’s kill shot.

Maggie only lasted another five minutes, and Vas was already outside of the hut, cleaning their gear when she arrived and everyone piled out.

“What the fuck, Vas?”

“Sorry, birthday girl.” Vas smirked. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to pick the former sniper last?”

Michaels plan getting out of prison: I will study and memorize the layout of this prison. Befriend the people who I need to befriend in order to get the tools I need. Become friends with the Prison leader and make them believe that I am out for both our best interests. Build gadgets to distract and give us signals on when to move. And we will escape the prison grounds in a matter of 60 minutes even though it takes at least 120 minutes but we can manage it if we stay on this schedule that I have spent weeks planning out. Michaels plan once they are out of Prison:

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Date Drug

Prompt: You’re in no way a party girl, but being Archie’s girlfriend, who just so happened to be a jock, you’re dragged along to parties quite often. Only this time, someone won’t leave you alone.

Prompt Idea/A/N: I got this idea from @riverdale-imagining and I fell in love with it. So though it’s somewhat the same, I took my own spin on it! BTW, I don’t actually think Reggie would do this, even though he’d kind of a dick in the show. So know that.

Complete credit to: @riverdale-imagining (May I have this drink?)

Warnings: drugging. swearing. force. violence. yeah, sure, let’s go with that. also, the topic is very serious and is in no way okay to do, i am not trying to naturalize the seriousness of the situation

Pairing: Archie X Reader


Originally posted by fyeahriverdale

Drinking was never your thing. You always were repulsed by the idea. So being in a room filled with drunk kids that screamed and dance as if it was their last day on earth, was definitely not something you wanted to be doing. But as a newly made River Vixen and the girlfriend of jock Archie Andrews, it was kind of an obligation you came to celebratory parties.

Which was fine. You had expected that you wouldn’t do much and more just wait on the sidelines until Archie became too drunk himself or Archie wanted to leave. You’d done it many times before, and every time it had been fine because you got rewarded with an adorable drunk Archie who would stop at nothing to make you laugh. 

You were fine with that.

Except this time, Reggie wouldn’t leave you alone. You’d found out about the tiny little crush he had on you just a week ago and even though he knew you and Archie were an item, he still tried to ask you out and spent everyday forward flirting with you. At first you’d found it funny more than anything and even a little sweet, Archie had laughed it off himself because he knew you’d never go after a guy like Reggie.

But now, you were far from amused. Leaning against a wall, crossing your arms over your chest as you tried to ignore the presence beside you. You were clad in a pair of skinny jeans and a blouse, as you had expected to go home after the game only for Archie to drag you off here. 

You were trying to ignore Reggie, who stood beside you. He was going on about the game and how well he had done. It had been chatting your ear off for the past hour and you were about at your wits end. 

Sighing, you decided that the only way you’d get away, even if only for a few minutes, was to slip off to the bathroom. So smiling sweetly, you interrupted Reggie and excused yourself to the bathroom. 

On your way there, you passed by Cheryl who greeted you with a fake smile. You waved back, rolling your eyes at here ‘kindness’ before slipping in the bathroom. Upon coming inside, you side looking at yourself in the mirror. You were tired and exhausted and honestly right now a drink didn’t sound so bad, but you knew you’d regret it in the long run, so you pushed that thought away. You were no where near of age anyway, not that really mattered in this case.

You turned the tap on, splashing some water in your face before patting it dry. Sighing, you opened the door and slowly made your way back to your spot. Reggie was of course still there, so trying to ignore your own annoyance, you leaned against the wall again, picking up the glass of coke you had left there and taking a sip. 

You relished in the cold drink, hitting the back of your throat and swallowing. You were oddly very thirsty and which each sip it only seemed to increase, you took multiple sips, the taste suddenly very delicious. 

“So, Y/N. Don’t like alcohol that much?” Reggie asked and you had to blink to fully focus on him. Suddenly you felt sick and your legs felt weak. You pushed away the feeling, not truly understanding what was happening and instead focus on Reggie.

“No…” You slurred, placing your cup down and holding onto the wall when it became hard to stay straight. “It’s- it’s not really my thing…”

Reggie nodded and you didn’t miss the way his lips curved into a devious smirk. Suddenly you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach at the look in Reggie’s eyes. You felt him coming closer and with silent panic, you let your eyes wander across the living room, trying to look for Archie only to not find his familiar blue and yellow jersey. 

“Why not?” Reggie asked, coming so close that your shoulders bumped into each other. “I’m sure you’d be plenty of fun, all drunk and all.” Your muscles were giving up on you and you felt the world spinning. You had the sudden urge to throw up, but sucked it back down. Your eyes still on the crowd in front of you, you felt cornered.

Why had you chose to hang out in the secluded area of the house? Oh, that’s right, to get away from everyone.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Reggie asked, his voice feigning innocence. You ignore the shoot of panic that shot through your body, and tried to take a step back. Your leg gave out on you, and you nearly fell before Reggie’s hand wound themselves around your waist, pulling you upwards against his body. You placed your hands against his chest and tried to convince yourself that you were overreacting and Reggie could help you. But you couldn’t ignore the way Reggie’s eyes scanned over you and he almost seemed proud. 

“Wher- Where’s Archie?” You asked, just wanting to see your boyfriend. 

“I don’t know. Haven’t seen him this whole time, actually.” Reggie shrugged, pushing you further against him when you stumbled. His head went into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses as you squirmed. You blinked, trying to locate what was happening and where you were. Everything was spinning and it felt like you might pass out any moment.

“S-Stop, let me go.” You tried pushing him away, but you were so weak nothing happened. “Please, I need to find Archie.” You words were slurred and almost inaudible. but you knew Reggie understood by the way his lips upturned into a grin.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You’ll be find. I’ll take care of you.” He reassured as he begin to pull you away from the crowd. You tried to fight him but everything was a blur and you began to loose feeling in you arms and legs. You became so weak that Reggie just started carrying you away. 

“Y/N!” A voice boomed in the rather loud room, you blinked, recognizing the voice. “Reggie! What the hell man?” Blinking, you were suddenly set down and you were leaning heavily against Reggie. It was a mess of different shapes but you caught sight of the familiar blue and yellow jacket and narrowing your eyes, you recognized Archie standing in front of you.

“Oh, Archie. We were actually just looking for you.” Reggie explained, and you shook your head. You were suddenly let go and stumbling you felt yourself fall into another persons arm, only except this time the arms felt warm. Safe. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see Archie and it felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Really?” Archie asked, his voice suspicious. You leaned heavily against him as his arm came around your waist and he hefted you up, supporting you. “What did you do to her? Did you drug her?” Archie’s angry voice rumbled out and you could feel the power behind his voice as your head fell into his neck.

“Of course not. Archie I found her like that. You should watch your girlfriend more carefully, there are a lot of dangerous predators.” With that Reggie walked away but not without sending one last gaze towards Archie, a hidden, threatening meaning behind his eyes.

You mumbled against Archie, feeling yourself slipping out of consciousness and before you knew it all you saw was black.


When you woke up, you were warm and you were comfy. You blinked, sitting up and holding your head when a rush of pain shot through. You groaned, hating how groggy you felt as you surveyed your surroundings. You were in Archie’s room, it was easy enough to recognize. The only thing is you couldn’t remember how you’d gotten here or why you felt so gross.

“You’re awake!” Archie’s familiar voice called out and turning you saw him making his way over to you. He held out a cup of tea which you gratefully accepted, still narrowing your eyes at the pain.

“What happened?” You asked, clearly confused. “Why am I here?”

“Y/N… that bastard he really did drug you.” Your eyes widened at the word ‘drug’ and snapped your gaze over to Archie. 

“Drugged?” You asked, concerned. You felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

“Reggie. We went to a party last night and i left you. Oh god, Y/N, I should’ve never left you.”

You tried to recall what the hell Archie was speaking about, but you couldn’t. You remembered going to a party, that you recalled and you did remember Archie leaving you quite early on. But then… oh god, Reggie. Reggie had been with you and then you went off to the bathroom, and that’s all you could remember.

“Reggie drugged me?” You asked, your heart beating. The thought that he could’ve done something to you. Could’ve sexually assaulted you gave you chills. And staring at Archie with tears in your eyes, you watched him nod. “Oh god…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I promise to never leave you alone like that again.”

“Did he do anything?”

“No!” Archie yelled, frantically shaking his head. “Well no, I don’t think so. I got to you just as he was leading you out of the house.” Sobbing against your hand, you fell against Archie. Him wrapping his arms around you as you hugged him.

“I love you…”You whispered, finally feeling as if it was the time.

“I love you too.”

Come Back to Me Pt 1

Cassian Andor x Reader

Summary: Y/N and her team are sent to Scarif in the place of Cassian, her boyfriend, and his team to retrieve the Death Star plans. The plans are successfully transmitted, but things go awry in the end and Y/N ends up with a lost memory. Will she make it back to Cassian?  

Warnings: Curse words

A/N: Thank you to @ly–canthrope  for requesting this fic! Love this girl! This will also be maybe a four part story. Please enjoy!

I do not own anything!!!

Originally posted by kyloshipsreylo

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On a Successful Marriage

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about what it means to have a successful marriage. 

I’m not sure what brought on this particular bout of introspection…maybe a long wedding related road trip with FWB, where, for the first time in nearly six years (!!), I had that we should probably end this thing, whatever it is, or make it something more feeling. I don’t want to end it, because it’s easy, and good, and fun, and did I mention easy? I did? Oh. Well. I’m very protective of this thing so I won’t go into details on a public forum, but as it stands now, he wants kids. I don’t. The unselfish part of me says it’s time to cut loose before I waste his time. The majority part of me wants to cry when I think about that inevitable day. The selfish part of me wants to believe we could come to some sort of compromise. The worst part of me wants to ghost.

I don’t really believe in soul mates, yet I think I know at least three couples who fit that bill, if such a thing exists. I haven’t had the best marriage role models in my life, so I’m an eternal skeptic.

A townie magazine has a feature this month about a local couple you need to know, or something like that. They’ve been married 20 years. I know from personal experience that he’s had multiple affairs throughout the entirety of their relationship. (This is ((very)) public knowledge around these parts.) But! They have children who are, by all indications, prepared for a successful life. They have a lucrative co-career.  A successful, infidelity ridden, 20 year marriage. Then again, I suppose there are pros and cons to any long-term situation, and who am I to judge what works for someone else?

I think of my grandmother, who is in the cruel throes of Alzheimers, and how I didn’t understand that her long periods of laying on the couch, watching The Young and the Restless, creating fantastic tales, was actually depression. She didn’t live in a time when it was OK to have a seemingly perfect life, and still be unhappy that it wasn’t perfect for her. I see my grandfather, at 86 years old, taking care of her every need, because that’s what you do, when you take those vows. It’s both the opposite of what I want, and #goalsaf. I don’t know how to reconcile my own conflicting views. I hope she’s proud of my independence. I wish every man was like my grandpa. 

This long and rambling post is a sort of stream of consciousness affirmation of why I choose to be single. Apart from love, there are a whole lotta so-called successful marriage markers: kids, business, legacy, longevity. None of those things are wrong, and yet none of them call to me. 

Is there something inherently wrong with me? That I’d literally rather die alone than have to do a +/- list to determine who I spend my life with? To not feel worried or scared that I may just be spending my life with myself? To feel at peace with this, even though every facet of society is saying THAT’S NOT NORMAL? Fuck that.

There’s something about spring that makes me want to purge. I’ve spent most of my free time this week throwing things away: old makeup, a pile of clothes for Goodwill, a bag for ThredUP. My pantry and fridge are devoid of anything extra. I guess I need to purge my thoughts too. Thanks for listening.

I Won't Hurt (M)

yoongi (& taehyung), 8.3k, yoongi us a rich kid and only knows about getting his own way

warning: smut, mentions of death and murder, mention of drugs, mention of family problems

one | two | three | tbc

Let me show you how much I care, please. I’ll do anything. I want you. I want to be out of prison and be with you. Only you.”

Originally posted by bwiseoks

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anonymous asked:

tobirama, madara, and yamato reacting to their s/o being pregnant

I love pregnancy headcanons, they are the perfect occasion for some good fluff or some good angst.

There are some similar asks, if you want to check: Madara as a parent, and Tobirama with a Teenage daughter

Tobirama, Madara, and Tobirama with a Pregnant S/O Headcanons

Originally posted by fuckyeahnaruto

Tobirama Senju

SFW

• His first reaction, especially if you were trying to get you pregnant, would be pretty hurting. Tobirama will say something along the lines of “Finally”, or, “at least”. However, you shouldn’t take it to heart, Tobirama is genuinely happy. The first days after he hears the news, he is going to be more affectionate than usual, giving you tons of kisses and caresses.

• He will not make a fuss about your pregnancy. However, after Harishama finds out, the whole village will be informed of every inch your belly grows. However, it isn’t hard to notice how Tobirama’s mood has improved: sometimes, in the middle of important reunions with the Fire Daimyo, he finds himself smiling while thinking of your child.

• Tobirama’s reaction wouldn’t be grandiloquent. It’s with the small gestures that you can determine his feelings. For example, after you told him about your pregnancy, you found several boxes of your favorite sweets on your bedside table.

• There was a list of names ready to be analyzed before your pregnancy. However, the final decision would be taken carefully and slowly. The name of a person is an important part of their selves, and Tobirama does not want to mark his child with a name that doesn’t suit them. He is especially inclined to the names of his family, though; if Tobirama could choose alone — which he is going to try—, his kid would have the name of his brother.

• Tobirama will be a prepared father. During the nine months, he’ll read every book he can find on the matter: pregnancy information, baby’s guides, parenting tips, etc. He wants to make sure his child will be well raised. He’ll probably pester you until accepting to read the informational books.

Originally posted by ginny-sama

Madara Uchiha

SFW

• At the second you confirm your pregnancy, Madara will become overprotective. He already has the tendency to forbid you things he finds dangerous, and this behavior will only increase when you are carrying his child. No training, no cooking, no cleaning, no going out without him. If it was for him, you would lie in the bed for the nine months.

• Madara almost never smiles. He smirks a lot, but he doesn’t smile. You have seen it, but it’s still a scarce event. After you told him you were pregnant, his whole face lighted up. His smile radiated warmth, his eyes had re-acquired that long-lost gleam; he even laughed, a pure, happy laugh.

• From that day and on, he’ll be extra careful around you. Madara is an incredible powerful shinobi, capable of destroying mountains without sweating: if he doesn’t pay attention, he might hurt you, particularly now, that you are more fragile. He’ll treat you like a porcelain doll. His kisses will be tender, his caresses plumed. Madara will even control his temper when you are around. He doesn’t want anything, especially him, to hurt you or your child.

• That first night, he told his brother. You woke up at midnight, incredibly cold and wondering where Madara had gone. Still half-asleep, you walked across the house searching for him. He was kneeling in front of the small altar, whispering “Izuna, I’m going to be a father.” Madara stayed there a very long time, telling his brother how much he loved you and how strong your child was going to be.

• Madara wants a son. That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to love his daughter, but in all the pregnancy he’ll act as there was a certainty you were carrying his son. It’s a matter of Uchiha pride: Madara wants someone who he can show all the secrets of his clan, who can become a great warrior and leader. At the end, if he has a daughter, she’ll probably be trained with all the discipline a man would be trained, making his whim even more irrational.

Originally posted by rasenpiss

Yamato (Tenzo)

SFW

• He is the happiest man that has ever walked on earth. Yamato is extremely excited to start a family with you, and your pregnancy has him on cloud nine. The first thing he’ll do is hug you in a tight, warm, blissful embrace; your face will be attacked by a million little kisses. However, his impulsiveness doesn’t last long: a minute after, he is worried he hugged you too hard and is asking for forgiveness.

• Yamato will pamper you a lot from that day on: you’ll go out for dinner every day, he’ll give you foot massages, he’ll prepare you the fanciest baths and will comply to your every whim. Everything without a single objection. Kakashi makes fun of him since he found him looking from a discontinued cereal at midnight.

• The day you told him, Yamato and you prepared a party to tell all your friends. Everybody laughs at the ecstatic smile that is glued to the father’s face, but at the end, Kakashi and Gai —who started the discussion, much to Kakashi’s dread— end up in a food fight to see who is going to be the godfather.

• Even before your belly grows, Yamato spends a lot of time talking to it. He tells your child stories and bad jokes and describes the world they are going to encounter when born. He kisses your belly button and grazes your stomach’s skin with his calloused fingers.

• He makes the perfect crib. It is not only safe, but the wood is beautifully carved: trees, flowers, bears and foxes form the columns. Yamato asks you to paint it, even when the bare wood it’s already the most suitable color. He spent entire weeks perfecting the plans before creating it; and even after he makes it, he asks you if you think is enough or if he should begin another model.

[On Thin Ice #7]

Series: Fairy Tail.
AU: Figure Skating, Modern; Fake Dating to Lovers.
Romantic Pairing: Gruvia.
Other Pairings: Gray/Silver, Juvia/Silver, Juvia/Gajeel.
Rating: T+ - language, alcohol, adult themes.
Genre(s): Romance, Drama.

Read on FF.net: here.
Read on AO3: here.
Read other chapters: here.

A/N: This chapter will be a little emotional and will explore Gray’s friendship with Lyon and Ultear. Also, it’ll set up the beginning of Gray and Juvia’s real romantic relationship, unbeknownst to them. Hahaha. 

;I try to wash the scars and marks from under my skin. But you’re etched in me like stone. You can’t save me, yeah, yeah.

Chapter Seven: Haunted

Juvia had often heard it said that time, in its slow and patient essence, had the ability to heal all wounds. The shallow. The deep. The fatal. As long as those wounds festered in the soul, life would run its course with a medicine not available on the market. A medicine administered by the diligent ticking of a temporal human heart. 

Juvia was still waiting for her dose to kick in. 

Three months had passed since the interview with Sorcerer Weekly; three months of being stopped in the street, of unwanted photos and mindless insults, that trickled slowly, steadily, along the stream of time and ended in a pool of suspicious calm. Though there were still children who stopped and asked her about Gray, and the headlines still talked of Oak Town’s Rain Woman, Juvia’s name no longer felt as tainted as it once had. In fact, there were those that were, in a sense, rooting for her success with Gray. Just as there were those who wanted the relationship to crash and burn in a public mess of humiliation and slander.

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So, recently I handed in my dissertation. This was the biggest piece of work that I have ever done. I wrote 10,000 words on the topic of women’s friendship in the early modern period as presented in letters. And let me tell you, it was tough. Incredibly so. But it was manageable! And it can be for you too! If you plan to go into higher education, writing a dissertation, thesis, or project, is inevitable. So I’m here to tell you how to plan and execute a huge piece of work. As my background is primarily History, this will be more about humanities than sciences. But I hope that I can help you out!

Choosing a topic:

  • Choose something you like. Because by the end of it, you’re going to be sick of it. And, trust me, it’s better to be sick of something you’re actually interested in.
  • Look at the stuff you’ve done in the past and think about what you liked about each module. Gender? Politics? Semantics? The great thing about a dissertation is that you can explore which ever topic you feel like.
  • Research. Read everything you can on the topic. When you think you’ve read enough, read some more. The more you research, the better idea you’ll have as to whether your topic is viable. Google scholar is awesome, use it! And Jstor. And your university library. You have so much material at your fingertips, you just gotta find it.
  • Look at which sources are available to you. I stupidly chose a question which was very difficult to research. This was okay, as I was passionate about the topic and willing to travel to archives. But if you can’t think of anything to write about, maybe see what primary material is available to you at your university/college.
  • Originality is key for a huge piece of work like this. This is the most difficult part of choosing a topic, in my opinion. Think of something that hasn’t been done before, or come to a new conclusion. Trust yourself, your opinions are valid!
  • Primary sources are the most important thing here. Read them before you read too much secondary material. This way, you can find your own opinions on the subject without just appropriating what has been already said.
  • Talk to people who know what they’re talking about. Your university pays lots of professors whose job it is to advise you. Go and talk to them! They may be able to give you some new perspective.

Planning your essay:

How do you eat an elephant?

One bite at a time.

This is the most important thing I can say to anyone planning a huge piece of work. If you do a little bit every week, then you’ll be fine. You DO NOT want to find yourself a week from the deadline, with still 5,000 words to write. I know some people who did that, and they suffered. Badly. So keep plugging away at it, and you’ll get it done in time. Here are a few tips which I learned the hard way…

  • Give yourself plenty of time to research. I spent 3 months just reading before I even thought about making a solid plan. Only after doing loads of reading and thinking can you come up with a way to tie together everything you’ve learned.
  • When making a plan, decide how many words to devote to each “chapter.” This means you won’t go over the word limit. And editing is the worst.
  • I made quite a long detailed plan in order to structure my thoughts. That plan became my bible. It might not work for you though.
  • This is my favourite way of planning my essays. It’s such a useful guide, so simple, and so helpful. Give it a look! I’ve been using a similar technique since I started uni, but this is better tbh.
  • When researching, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, write down where you found the information. Page numbers, author, publisher, date of publication, editions, chapter titles, chapter page numbers. I spent 4 days after I had written the whole thing just trying to find this one God damn article which I had read nearly a year ago. It was a nightmare.Please. Record the bibliographical information.
  • Write all the important dates in your diary/phone. I also used “monthly reminders” so I was constantly aware of how long I had left.
  • Give yourself a week to edit and create your bibliography. It’s nice to edit at your own pace, not at a rush.
  • Give yourself lots of room for disasters! When I was planning my essay, I had no idea that I was going to break my arm, and be in cast for half of the year. I obviously did not predict that. But I had an adaptable schedule, which really helped me.
  • And make sure to regularly back everything up! I lost a load of work and it sucked so bad. Don’t let that happen to you.

The Writing:

  • Give yourself your own deadlines. Say that you need to have written the first chapter three months before the deadline, or something like that. This means that you won’t be rushing at the end, and you might be able to give drafts of chapters to your supervisor to read over.
  • It’s alright if you don’t write perfectly on the first try. Splurge your ideasall over the paper! Freewrite everything you want to say. And then, after a cup of tea or a nap, come back to it. You’ll feel much better for it.
  • You don’t have to start at the beginning. Maybe write the chapter that you have the most information for first, to give yourself some confidence. Or, maybe start with the worst first, to make the rest seem less daunting. It’s up to you, both strategies have merit.
  • Daily word counts are great when you’re reaching the deadline. I knew I had to write 150 words every day in order to hit the deadline - I exceeded this every day, which made me feel awesome about myself and gave myself loads of confidence.
  • Talk to people about it! I find that talking about my opinions out loud really help me formulate my ideas in my head.
  • Do loads of proof reading. I discovered two days before the deadline that I had been spelling “amicitia” wrong consistently. It was pretty embarrassing.
  • Ask your friends/family to read it through. Even if they don’t  understand everything, they should be able to help with grammatical errors and such like. When you’re sick of reading your own words (which is very quickly for me) you’ll be thankful for the second opinion.

TRUST YOURSELF AND YOUR ABILITY, YOU CAN DO IT.

“Support Me” Part 2a

I’m a little late so…sorry

Anyway, here is the happy (I’m reluctant to call it happy) ending to this fic.

Don’t worry lovelies…hardcore angst is coming ;)

Originally posted by newdscamander

The London air seemed a hundred times cooler that night as Newt sat on the stone sidewalk.

After a couple minutes of recollecting his thoughts, comprehending what had just happened, he went out to find you, only to realize he was too late. He frantically looked around for you, calling your name into the night, but you were already gone.

He clutched his scarf closer to his lips as the wind picked up.

He couldn’t believe he had driven you away. He should have begged you to stay, or to let him come with you, but he didn’t, and he prayed to God it wouldn’t be the biggest mistake of his life.

After what felt like years, his eyelids began to droop, threatening to plunge him into sleep.

So Newt got up off the side of the road and reluctantly walked back into his empty apartment.

———-

It had been two months. Was that how long you said you would be away? Was it longer? Was it shorter? Were you injured? He couldn’t stop the cascade of terrifying thoughts flood his mind.

He checked his mailbox religiously, hoping you had forgiven him and sent a letter, letting him know you would return early. He waited day after day for any note from you or the ministry, so when one finally came, he was beside himself with anxiety and excitement.

He tore open the familiar red seal, fumbling over his hands to read the smudged writing.

Sir-or-Madam,

We regret to inform you that a report has been received from the Department of Law Enforcement to the effect that Auror (Y/N) (L/N)…

Your name had been written in by some frighteningly unmistakable handwriting.

was posted as “missing in action” on the 1st of December 1931…

He couldn’t read any further. The thin parchment slipped through his fingers, falling silently to the floor.

Missing in action. The three words rang in his ears like thunder.

He fought the tears threatening to pour down his cheeks.

You had been missing for nearly four weeks, and not only did the Ministry wait so long to send him the details, but the details they sent were in a generic and impersonal fashion. The ministry sent this about disposable people. About meaningless people, both of which you were far from.

He felt his world come crashing down.

What if that was the last time he had ever seen you? What was the last thing he had ever said to you? He replayed that argument over and over in his head everyday, deciphering your actions over and over, yet now, he couldn’t place his mind on anything but that damned letter.

He bent down and scooped it up, knees wobbling and hands trembling.

There was another paragraph. inadequately trying to explain that “missing in action” was not necessarily “killed in action,” just rather wounded or possibly held prisoner.

Both of which made Newt’s stomach churn.

What was he suppose to do with this? You were thousands of miles away from him, and he had no idea what condition you were in. Nobody did. Was he suppose to sit and wait for you? Did he really have a choice?

The ministry assured that he would be notified as soon as possible whenever there was news of your activity, but he had a sinking feeling that wouldn’t be the case.

How many times had he waited by the door for news that his brother was safe, and how many times had he gotten this exact same letter? How many times had he waited for a loved one to come home, and how many times would he have to do it again?

He begged himself not to think like that.

————–

Another two months raged on, though it felt like lifetimes were passing, rather than days.

Minutes didn’t feel appropriate enough to describe the time you’d been gone, so he attempted to create a more appropriate calendar.

You had been away for ten breakdowns.

A hundred sleepless nights.

A thousand tears,

And about a million unheard apologies.

He had gotten a measly three letters since the first, each with more inconclusive information. What was so frightening was how consistent they use to be, one coming week after week. Now, it had been a month, and the mailbox was still empty.

It drove him completely mad.

He couldn’t even bring himself back into work because of his laughably low productivity, so he spent his days in his little blue loveseat, sat so far to the side it was as if he were making room for a person who wasn’t there.

He watched the wall clock strike midnight, mentally ticking off another day since your disappearance, fighting the tears threatening to break away.

When the apartment seemed too unbearably empty, he gathered his blue coat and headed for the door, ready to take another walk down the busy London streets. Maybe he could manipulate the  noises into some kind of company.

He reached for his umbrella and laid a hand on the door handle, eyes glued to the carpet.

When the door finally swung open, he expected his eyes to land on the door mat outside, but instead, they met a scruffy pair of brown boots, trembling and glued to the floor.

He dared to let his eyes drift up the person standing in front of him, until he finally saw your face.

He had almost forgotten what you looked like.

He had almost forgotten how beautiful you were.

Your eyes locked for a moment, a silence hung in the air, part from disbelief, and part of utter shame.

“Newt…I-” you started, expecting him to be heartbroken or furious. You couldn’t finish your apology, because his umbrella clattered to the floor and he hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you into an embrace.

And suddenly, the world fell away. It didn’t even feel like real life.

“I-I shouldn’t have run out on you like that” he focused on the sound of your voice, letting it calm his breathing.

“I’ve been so worried” he managed to say, realizing how hoarse his throat was. When was the last time he had spoken to anyone?

You attempted to pull him back to arm’s length, but his muscles froze and held on even tighter. You giggled and lightly stroked his back in return.

“It’s okay, I’m okay Newt!” You were cold and soaked from the rain, but you could still feel the hot tears soak into your shirt.

“Don’t cry…because you know…” your voice began to break as well.

“…you know when you cry, I cry” Newt stayed quiet, not wanting to risk saying anything that would ruin this moment.

He had tried every way to cope with your absence. He indulged into his work with his creatures, he went to drink at the pubs (among other things he wasn’t so proud of), but nothing made him feel the relief and the warmth that this one simple gesture did.

There was no amount of alcohol that could replace your heat.

There was no amount of work that could distract him like you did.

He held you tightly, never wanting to let you go ever again.

Because if he did, he wasn’t so sure he could survive.

Leave me alone

Now that i have been attacked openly by this person, I feel it necessary to tell my side of the story. It probably will not matter to anyone concerned, but I am outraged that anyone would call me the things that this person has, and I will be damned if I take that in silence.

Ru approached the first week of November and began asking me questions, as per the usual way that readers do. To which, I replied politely. They gave me very helpful feedback on their impression reading one segment of my diary. That very week the elections happened. Ru was distraught and threatened to kill themselves. I spent almost six hours talking to them, encouraging them not to do anything rash. It occurred to me, about half way through that process, that this person was not going to hurt themselves, but was instead in need of someone to talk to. I can understand that, and if I could be of service, it did not harm me to console them. I kept in contact.

Shortly after that, i began a Tumblr-based social club to watch movies. It was very successful, and Ru was a very central part of that group, coming to nearly all the showings we organized. Ru’s family troubles, their depression, their habits, and their tendency not to eat became of grave importance to the group. We all encouraged Ru to leave the abusive household and to eat regular meals. Such that Ru and I made a bargain - I promised to write Ru a personal letter with a sketch inside if Ru could show me they had eaten 1700 calories a day for one week. This happened, and I did, in fact, send that letter. Ru spoke to me literally every day, and even received a Christmas present from me. Ru also asked if they could refer to me as a parent figure or father figure. I consented.

But then Ru’s behavior became somewhat problematic, from mocking other people’s reactions to certain films or shows, to making bizarre statements and going suddenly offline. On the day we watched “Django Unchained”, it was a few days after the death of a friend of mine. I was depressed. Ru opted out of the film, because films involving racism tend to trigger them, which is perfectly understandable. We all said farewell. About fifteen minutes later, Ru reentered the chatroom, and instantly began railing about the film. Ru objected to the use of certain words, to the content, to anything that had anything to do with the history. Ru claimed that the one scene in the movie that mocks the KKK as the idiots they are was “humanizing them” to which, several of us said we did not think it did any such thing. To me, it made racists look of sub-par intelligence. Buffoons. Ru became completely inconsolable and accused the entire group (which was not all white) of being racists and KKK sympathizers. Ru then said they “hate all white people”. I was angry, because I thought that Ru had purposefully involved themselves in a situation that would make them angry and was now taking out all their feelings on everyone in the room, instead of the people who truly deserve to be treated in such a way. I left the room. For two hours, Ru insisted on messaging me, demanding to know why I was being a racist. I said I was not. Ru insisted that I believed in “reverse racism” because I told them that they were being rude and distracting from the film. I denied that, but asked Ru why they felt that they needed to assume everyone in the group was white, and why they had come to the film if they knew it would trigger them to lash out against their friends. They then came back to the room with me and apologized for being so upset and saying what they said.

They then remained friends with our group for several more weeks, but I noticed that their behavior toward everyone was particularly odd. They would tell one person one thing and then tell another person something different. On a Friday, they came into the group and told the several of us present that they had accidentally overdosed the previous evening by taking 3 of their antidepressant medications with a bottle of wine, and that while delirious, set up a timed Tumblr post to trigger at midnight, if they couldn’t wake up to undo that scheduled post. According to Ru, the post read “If you see this I have died”. At once, this rang as bizarre to me. I asked why, if they felt so ill, and were afraid they might not wake up they didn’t call an ambulance? How, if that ill and that frightened, could they type and then schedule a Tumblr post? They said that it was quite alright, that everything was fine and they were no longer in danger, that it wouldn’t happen again because they had developed a system for making sure they didn’t accidentally take too many pills when they were drinking.

The very next evening, I received several frantic messages from multiple members of the group, demanding that I give them Ru’s address, because they needed to call an ambulance. I asked why. I am not about to give someone’s address out to complete strangers. The members said that Ru had accidentally taken too many medications and needed help. I messaged Ru, and received no reply. One of the others who had messaged me was apparently on the telephone with Ru and said that Ru was completely incoherent and groggy, and that they had told Ru to go vomit up the medications, but the phone line had gone dead. I messaged Ru again, demanding that they reply to me, that if they did not I wouldn’t speak to them again, and I would call the police. About one minute elapsed, and I received a perfectly spelled and completely coherent message saying that they couldn’t speak to me, because they were on the phone with the other person. Except that that call had terminated several minutes before. They then went on to say they had taken 2 pills by mistake, when just the previous evening, they had said that 2 was their normal dose, and 3 was too much. This discrepancy concerned me.

I could be wrong, but a person dying of an OD, who is incoherent one moment is not going to vomit up pills and be perfectly fine the next. I was confused and suspicious. I showed the chat conversation to the other concerned parties, and they agreed with my suspicions. One of these people had lost a friend to an overdose, and was instantly very angry and hurt. They blocked Ru that instant. The other wrote Ru a long letter saying they wanted distance from Ru. When Ru saw that letter, they came to me and demanded to know why this was happening. I confronted Ru and told them that it seemed very obvious that their two “accidental” overdoses were planned. They denied nothing. I told them I had nothing to say to them and this this type of action was going to cost them friends.

Several others blocked Ru, as I understand it, not based on anything I said, but based upon more of Ru’s behavior (of which I was not told). Ru again came to me and asked what they could do to repair their friendships. I instructed them to apologize and admit what they’d done and then attempt to work their way back into the group by being honest and compassionate to the others.

They then turned around and went to the ones who had been involved, and wrote apology letters admitting to faking the overdoses. However, after a week, with no one willing to speak to them still, Ru came to me and spent literally five hours telling me why I had ruined all their friendships by spreading lies, that I was unhealthy for them, that I was ruining their life. I told them if they felt that way they could block me and that that was perfectly fine with me. They then said “but I don’t blame you.” As if after saying such malicious things and doing such malicious things for weeks could be erased by saying, “but I don’t blame you”. Why should I be blamed for Ru’s behavior? They then said that they “never lied except to lie about the overdoses.” I asked what that meant. Ru said that those false OD’s were actually suicide attempts, and that they lied to everyone about having made them up because I told them it was the only way to get their friends back. That is plainly untrue. I told them to tell the truth. I told them what it looked like and that they alone could explain. That aside, it became apparent that they blamed their lack of contact with the others one one person: me. Regardless of all that, the circumstances also don’t match suicide attempts, because the amounts of medications they claimed to take versus their normal doses, still made no sense. I realized that this was all a game to them, that we people on the internet are pawns and some kind of psychological pleasure was derived from playing us off each other.

I then asked Ru to leave me alone and finally blocked them.

For weeks now, Ru has attempted to contact me via all my other social networks saying things like “If you don’t want to talk to me you should block me.” So I obliged. I blocked Ru on every single social network. Then Ru began making secondary blogs and contacting all of those who had blocked them via those. I blocked them again. Then Ru tried to send messages to members of the group via mutuals who had not yet blocked. This offended these people, and I assume they blocked Ru. Now Ru has again made new accounts and is out and out calling me a racist. Now I learn that conversations that (happened weeks before we ever parted company) lasted literally hours and worked through many tangents, have been carefully photographed and complied to make me seem as terrible a person as they assert I am.

Never mind that this disagreement over the film took place weeks before they were blocked and no longer welcome to the group. Never mind that this “Call out” took place from two URL’s each belonging to Ru, designed to look as if it came from a group of people who all unanimously hate me. Never mind that I have spent days and even weeks conversing with Ru, trying to get them into a good therapy program, trying to encourage them to apply themselves to school, asking them to be mindful of their health. Hours and hours of conversations in Spanish, in English, and what have you. Never mind that this person called me “Dad”. All Ru cares about is that some people they’ve never met, blocked them because they behaved poorly. We are the villains and they will carefully tweak all our private discourse to fit that narrative. This is manipulative and cruel.

I am hurt. I am offended. But mostly, I am saddened. I cannot believe I trusted someone who clearly does not care about anyone but themselves. I am depressed that I wasted time I could have devoted to someone else. What’s more, I’m angry that this person feels the need to resort to such extremes when all they had to do is walk away. Every week it is something new, and I am the focus of their anger.

I am forced to reexamine everything they ever said to me, about their abusive home life, their relationship with their parents, their discussions of their gender and sexuality. I realize I cannot trust anything they said, and I say this with the full knowledge of the irony in place.

Doubtless Ru will find some way to read this and to tell the world why everything in it is false, and why I am to blame for all their misery, compile and curate more screen caps to outline why I am a wretched bastard. I can only tell you that this is what I experienced, that I never once gave anyone orders demanding that they block Ru. I can only say that the fact that an entire group of people chose to block this person is proof enough of their character, and that has nothing to do with me.

I do not wish to have contact with this person. This person ignores that fact and continues to find ways to harass me, from messaging me, sending me “anons” that are not anonymous because I can track IP’s, messaging others with whom I am in contact, and now, tagging me on posts. I have blocked them numerous times. I am within my rights to do so

If that seems bigoted to you…I cannot help that.

anonymous asked:

Do you have any explanation why Steve felt like he needed to protect himself by not telling Tony about his parents? I had intially assumed it was to protect Bucky, maybe to prevent anyone else from trying to capture him before Steve could get to him, until Steve admitted that he was protecting himself. Did he think that Tony would blame him for it? Did he feel insecure with their tenuous friendship and he didn't want anymore setbacks?

I think part of it is just human nature, to be honest.  We don’t like being the bearer of bad tidings, we don’t like hurting the people we care about, and we are really, really good at rationalizing reasons why (It would only hurt him. He’s had so many terrible things happen to him, why add one more.  It was hard enough for him to deal with the accident, why make it worse? Bad timing. I’m not absolutely sure, so why bring it up until I know?  Doesn’t change anything.  Still need his help to find Bucky.  Would he blame Bucky?  What would this do to our friendship? To the team?  I’ll tell him when the time is right.).  

I mean, none of these things are an excuse for withholding the info.  He clearly should have told Tony, who deserved the truth, or as much of what Steve knew about it.  Absolutely.  Full stop. I think Steve would be the first to say that (and, you know, did).  But, I do think that is a very human thing to do. 

How many times have you seen someone struggle with telling someone they love, a friend or relative, something that they know is going to just hurt them, even if it is true?  Maybe I’m old enough to have seen this happen a time or two, so it makes more sense, I don’t know.  When one of my good friends found out another friend’s husband was cheating, we spent weeks discussing should we tell, how to tell, what to tell, because we weren’t like 100% sure, and this is their marriage we are risking, so…and, rather predictably, our mutual friend was initially pissed at the friend who told her what was happening and didn’t want to believe it. 

Obviously, that isn’t meant to be a perfect analogy, but I’m saying that I understand how hard it is to impart something you know is going to be emotionally devastating to someone  you care about, that is going to risk that relationship you have with them, even if they need and deserve to know it. 

 Again, I’m not saying it was right to keep that from Tony.  At all.  I’m saying, I understand the impulse to wait, to sit on it, to tell yourself that you’ll say something when you know for sure or when the time is right…it is easy to keep kicking the can down the road and feel like you have the best intentions towards the other person’s well-being, when, really, you are just avoiding doing something that is going to be hard on you. It is hard to recognize that in the moment, though, because our brains like to tell us things that make it easier on us. That is the way we imperfect humans sometimes work.  

Bonnie & Clyde - pt 8

Originally posted by sugaglos

You pushed away from him and gasped “What are you doing? My dad is downstairs.”

“He left. It’s just us now.” Yoongi said, backing off.

He leaned against the wall and stayed silent.

“Yoongi, I-”

“Y/N. Tell me what you’re up to because I know you don’t care about Mason. You don’t care about anyone, not even yourself.” He said.

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