you don't need to tell me this is like impossible to see

Popsicles And Kiwis

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N
RATING: R
WORD COUNT: 4800+
REQUESTED: yes !

so this came from a small request about eating a popsicle and accidentally starting something that couldn’t be finished…….i went a bit overboard with it, but i hope u enjoy some smut! please let me know what u think :-) it rLY motivates me ! [feedback] [masterlist]

~*~

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anonymous asked:

I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

They did this test every few months for a few years.

But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

I was 15 when that started.

I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

He laughed.

Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

A few years later I had the other one done too.

My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.

Aubrey tells Beca about Chloe's toner:
  • [BECA is walking out of an elevator and makes her way down the hallway. Her phone begins ringing and she frowns at the caller I.D. before answering]
  • BECA: Aubrey?
  • AUBREY: Hi Beca. How's L.A.?
  • BECA: Um yeah...good...thanks...?
  • *pause*
  • BECA: So...this is a surprise. I mean, you don't often call me. In fact, you've NEVER called me. Ever. And it's, what *pulls phone from ear to quickly check the time*...3am where you are? Is everything ok?
  • AUBREY: *sighs* No, not really. I called about Chloe.
  • [BECA gets to her hotel room and stops, unlocking the door]
  • BECA: Why, has something happened to her? Is she okay?
  • [BECA steps into her hotel room, closing the door behind her]
  • AUBREY: No, Beca, she's not.
  • [BECA freezes]
  • BECA: Oh my god. What happened?!
  • AUBREY: You did.
  • BECA: What?
  • AUBREY: You happened. Chloe was perfectly fine until you happened.
  • [BECA swallows loudly as she walks over to her hotel bed and sits on the end of it heavily]
  • AUBREY: I've known Chloe for ten years. I'd never seen her look at anyone else the way she looked at you. The way she STILL looks at you.
  • BECA: I don't-
  • AUBREY: *sighs* -Beca, I know you and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye. But there IS one thing that's important to both of us and that's Chloe's happiness, right?
  • BECA: Um...yeah.
  • AUBREY: So why is it since you left I've been having to take care of a mopey Chloe?
  • BECA: Um...
  • AUBREY: She barely eats, barely talks, NEVER laughs...
  • BECA: Aubrey, I-
  • AUBREY: ...it's been three days and you've barely texted her!
  • BECA: Woah Aubrey, I asked her if she was alright with me going and she said yes!
  • AUBREY: Oh WAKE UP Beca!! She never wanted you to leave but she told you you should because she wanted to support you!
  • *pause as AUBREY catches her breath*
  • AUBREY: *sighs* Beca, I promised Chloe I wouldn't tell you this but I can't bear to see her unhappy anymore so...
  • *BECA strains her ears, desperate to know what AUBREY will say*
  • AUBREY: ...Chloe broke up with Chicago before you left.
  • BECA: What? Why didn't she say anything?!
  • AUBREY: Because she believed that this LA thing was your big break. She didn't want to risk telling you and for you to decide not to go and miss out on your dream.
  • BECA: Oh...
  • AUBREY: I just thought you should know because *sighs* Beca I'm not an idiot. I've seen the way you've looked at her during this tour. When she's been with Chicago? That's not the look you give your friend when you dislike the guy she's seeing. BELIEVE me I know, I never liked Chicago either. But not because I was jealous of him.
  • [BECA brings a hand to her face and pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she tries to process what has just been said]
  • AUBREY: Beca this is your life. I'm not going to tell you what to do or how to live it. Just...remember what's important okay?
  • [AUBREY hangs up and BECA places her phone on the bed, looking down at her feet.]
  • ---------------
  • [14 hours later. AUBREY is in her hotel room gathering final strands of her hair to place in an already established 'up-do'. There is a rumble of thunder and heavy rain sounding from outside the window. AUBREY hears a fast knock on the door. She opens the door to see BECA stood on the other side, soaked from the rain, clearly cold, gasping to catch her breath.]
  • AUBREY: Beca wha-
  • BECA: -Where's Chloe?
  • AUBREY: She's gone down to the dressing rooms alrea- hey, wait!
  • [BECA has already begun running off and AUBREY watches as BECA dashes down the hall and through a door that leads to the stairwell.]
  • ---------------
  • [CHLOE stands in front of a long mirror in the dressing room that is situated at the side of the stage where they will be performing their final show of the tour, smoothing down the front of her black dress with her left hand, then glances at her phone in her right. She sighs as she sees she has no message from BECA.
  • FAT AMY clears her throat beside her and CHLOE furrows her brow, looking to her right at FAT AMY and CYNTHIA-ROSE. She sees them nod to the mirror, their eyebrows raised expectantly, presumably to make her look in it's reflection.
  • CHLOE looks back at the mirror and sees in it's reflection BECA stood in the doorway, soaked and breathless. CHLOE turns on the spot and is clearly speechless.]
  • CYNTHIA-ROSE: Um...me and Fat Amy have somewhere we need to be.
  • FAT AMY: We do?
  • [FAT AMY sees CYNTHIA-ROSE's facial expression and clocks on]
  • FAT AMY: Oh RIGHT. Yeah. Let's...go to that place...that we have to go to.
  • [FAT AMY and CYNTHIA-ROSE make their way out of the dressing room, grinning at BECA who gives them both an awkward polite smile before they close the door behind them.
  • BECA begins to slowly walk towards CHLOE who is clearly nervous and surprised.]
  • BECA: So...you broke up with Chicago?
  • CHLOE: Uh...yeah...who-?
  • BECA: Aubrey called me.
  • CHLOE: I told her not to say anythi-
  • BECA: I know. But I'm pleased that she did.
  • [BECA pauses a couple of yards from CHLOE, not bothered that she is still soaked from head to toe.]
  • CHLOE: Your job-?
  • BECA: -Doesn't matter. None of it matters. LA. My dream. None of it. Not really.
  • [BECA slowly takes a few steps forward so she is now mere inches from CHLOE]
  • BECA: But you...
  • [BECA and CHLOE hold eye contact, but it isn't weird. They have looked at each other this intensely before. In that shower cubical at Barden six years ago when they sang 'Titanium' together.]
  • BECA: ...Chloe you matter. You REALLY matter to me.
  • [Tears appear in CHLOE's eyes]
  • BECA: On the flight over here I realised I could live my life just fine without ever becoming a Music Producer. But my life wouldn't be worth living if I didn't have you in it. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner-
  • [BECA's sentence is interrupted as CHLOE brings her hands to BECA's face and pulls her into a deep kiss. BECA immediately wraps her arms around CHLOE's waist pulling her tighter to her. Their faces rock gently from side to side as they intensify the kiss, inhaling deeply. Before long CHLOE opens her mouth wider, inviting BECA's tongue into her mouth which takes CHLOE by surprise and elicits a small squeak from the redhead when BECA begins rolling her tongue with hers. They mutually, reluctantly, break the kiss, grinning. CHLOE bites her bottom lip. BECA keeps her hands in CHLOE's hips.]
  • CHLOE: I...don't know what to say.
  • BECA: Have I mastered the impossible and made the great Chloe Beale speechless?
  • [CHLOE lets out a small giggle then her face turns serious as her blue eyes inspect BECA's face nervously.]
  • CHLOE: I don't want to say how I'm feeling in case I freak you out.
  • BECA: Chloe...?
  • [BECA smiles softly, leans her face closer to CHLOE's face, and keeps CHLOE's eye contact with her own eyes.]
  • BECA: *whispers* I love you.
  • [A smile spreads on CHLOE's face as she takes a deep breath]
  • CHLOE: *whispers* I love you too.
  • [BECA and CHLOE kiss again, this time gently.]
  • FAT AMY: *outside the closed door* Can we come in yet?
  • [BECA and CHLOE part their lips, holding each other's hands as they lean their foreheads against each other. BECA closes her eyes clearly frustrated with FAT AMY's timing.]
  • FAT AMY: *outside the closed door* It's just...Aubrey's out here and really wants us to finish getting ready - OW!!
  • [BECA and CHLOE pull their faces apart. CHLOE giggles quietly as BECA rolls her eyes at FAT AMY getting into trouble with AUBREY.]
  • FAT AMY: Okay FINE, Aubrey says take as long as you need - OW!!
  • *pause*
  • FAT AMY: Look, can we just come in before I get battered again? - OW!! Aubrey what now?!
  • [BECA looks to CHLOE apologetically and CHLOE gives her a wink with a sweet smile. BECA quickly leans back to CHLOE and places a brief kiss on her lips before turning her head to the door of the dressing room.]
  • BECA: Alright Amy, you can come in.
  • [The door of the dressing room swings open and FAT AMY, AUBREY, and CYNTHIA-ROSE stand in the doorway with expectant looks on their faces, the rest of THE BELLA's stood behind them with similar expressions. They all squeal in excitement at the sight of BECA and CHLOE grinning whilst holding hands and everyone outside the door tumble into the dressing room to congratulate BECA and CHLOE.]

drinkupthesunrise  asked:

I don't suppose you have any specific feelings about Wedge Antilles??

He doesn’t hate Skywalker from the second they meet. That particular nasty rumor is Solo’s fault, and Wedge put it down to territorial posing more than anything else. 

(For a man who adamantly insisted he wanted nothing to do with the Rebellion, Solo definitely spent a lot of time clinging to the Princess of Alderaan and the Hero of the Death Star. Since Wedge wasn’t interested in trying to break up a happy triad, he left well enough alone, hoping that Solo stop making Wedge’s relationship with Rogue Leader more complicated than it needed to be.)

No, Wedge has always extended to Skywalker the same professional respect he affords all the pilots. Maybe a touch of awe for the Death Star business. Wedge even thinks he’s sort of funny, the kid with a thousand impossible stories about his hellhole planet, a streak of bitter humor and a smile like a blaster shot. Skywalker’s reckless in the extreme, but he’s always first to take any risk. And he’s been much more careful since Wedge had that conversation with him, about how Rogue Leader using the Force to accomplish impossible, stupid maneuvers generally meant a fiery death for the rest of his squadron.

They have an understanding, and an easy camaraderie that Wedge appreciates.

Wedge is just…

It’s difficult, meeting someone and knowing—knowing—from the second you meet them, that they’re about to sideline you in your own life. That when people tell the story of the great and glorious things you did, you’re going to be a supporting actor. And Wedge doesn’t resent Skywalker for it; he made the shot, the impossible shot, and now there’s talk of him being a Jedi. If Wedge’s going to lose out to someone, it might as well be that guy. 

(Still.)

Still, it would be easier if Skywalker would stop showing up at Wedge’s quarters at all hours, looking like a lost quarren puppy. It interferes with their amicable professionalism, Skywalker flopping down on Wedge’s bunk and shoving the fringe of his hair out of his eyes, talking about—something. It’s always something. He’s that strange sort of funny, even complaining, or (badly) imitating Solo, the Princess, Mothma, Akbar, and…

The first time, Wedge baldly stared at him until Luke guiltily sat up. “Do you want me to go?” he’d asked, picking at the hole in Wedge’s quilt that Wedge hadn’t thought anyone but him could find. The quilt was one of the things he’d brought with him from the Imperial Academy, a relic of Corellia he’d been allowed to keep because it meant he hadn’t needed an extra blanket issue. (The Empire was like that; economy over everything.)

“No,” Wedge had choked out, which surprised even him. “No, tell me what Commander Rosilev said.”

(Luke lets himself in, now.)

Solo doesn’t bristle the way he used to, not when Luke is the one who drags Wedge to where they’re sitting. It’s like sitting on the edge of a sunspot; hyper-aware that if he  just edges forward, even a little, he’ll be enveloped in light he’s not entitled to. The urge to try it, to just dare a little, is heady. For a moment, it’s all Wedge can think about, moving closer to Luke so that their shoulders brush, or taking Luke’s hands as they move—he’s argung with the Princess, and all Wedge can think is taking his hands, trapping them, holding them.

A Jedi’s hands. The hands that grasped the yoke, and made the shot. The hands—

“You know them,” Solo mutters, an aside as Luke and the Princess argue about whatever it is they’re arguing about; impassioned and probably correct. “So I don’t have to apologize, right?”

“Oh, no,” Wedge says. He’s—warm. “No, I’m…good.”

Luke stands there, pacing as Wedge keys in the access code to his own rooms. Luke’s ranting about—something, above Wedge’s paygrade probably. (Not that they have paygrades in the Rebellion, and definitely not like they did in the Empire, but Wedge is an operations droid, a battleplan guy. So long as his squad comes home, as long as they didn’t kill to many civilians, it’s okay. He doesn’t question ethics and morality the way Skywalker does, especially not when a Yavinese beer or two or eight has made him relaxed, loose-limbed.)

“You know?” Skywalker says, his voice breaking with how godsdamned impassioned he is.

“Sure, Skywalker,” Wedge says, fumbling with his keys (he’s been fumbling, but they’re blunt instruments, they’re ineffectual, they don’t need them—)

Luke kisses first, of this Wedge is absolutely sure. Luke smiles at him, indulgent and amused, and then Luke is making a few long strides to cross the corridor, and then Luke is kissing him, and all this happens in less than 120 seconds. Wedge is tasting a Jedi’s mouth, and the Jedi is moaning like he’s never had anything  better than the aftertaste of caf and stim, and maybe whatever Wedge had for lunch.

“Don’t humor me,” Luke says. His mouth tastes of Yavinese beer and warmth.

Wedge would tell him to fuck himself and the pathetic veneer of armor he’s built, except then Luke Skywalker might leave, and Wedge doesn’t want that. “I’m not,” Wedge says/breathes/murmurs, a thousand times. “I’m not.”

(Yes, oh, please, more, is all he says, afterwards.)


The next morning, the Princess eyes Wedge over breakfast. He pretends as though he can’t feel the lovebite burning exactly where his collar ends, and she pretends as though she doesn’t have a matching one somewhere he can’t see, but makes her squirm all the same.

He asks her to pass the dehydrated cream. She obliges. They drink their caf in silence.

Two Lies, One Truth (NSFW)

Summary: During a “two lies, one truth” with the Winchester, reader lets out an intimate confession.
Word counting: 1.1k words
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: Insecure reader. Smut. Fluff. Gif isn’t mine,
A/N: This here goes to all my lovely girls insecure with their breasts. You are all beautiful just the way you are.

“I’m colourblind. I’ve never had sex dressed. I’ve smoked weed during college.” Sam leant down.

You tilted your head, trying to figure out the truth by his face expression.

“Colourblind one is a lie.” Dean drank a sip from his beer.

You three were playing two lies one truth to pass time, and although the brothers weren’t counting wins, they had gotten far more rights than you.

“You’ve never tried weed.” You decided.

Sam was too perfect to do this kind of stuff.

“Wrong.” He laughed, slightly drunk.

“It can’t be!” You looked at him. “Sam!”

Dean laughed out loud and the two looked at you, waiting.

“So…” You tried to think and was far too drunk to remember you should keep some secrets to yourself. “I look terrible naked, I’ve had sex with a girl, I’ve had a threesome.”

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So earlier today I got rather pissed off when some rude anon who has probably never made a GIF in their lives decided to attack my friend (and one of the best GIFmakers I know) for no reason telling them not to talk about GIFmaking like it’s a big deal since it’s just taking clips from existing video. I was hoping to forget about this, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how many non-GIFmakers really do think that’s all GIFmaking is (including myself before I started making GIFs to some extent). Luckily, most people aren’t that rude about it and know not to insult content creators over a topic they actually don’t know much about…but I still feel the need to discuss some of the often lengthy effort that goes into making medium to high quality GIFs.

As a disclaimer, I’m NOT trying to be elitist and I honestly don’t consider myself one of the top tier GIFmakers. I also don’t think that GIFmakers HAVE to put in a lot of effort to alter GIFs from the original video frames if they don’t want to. It’s just a hobby where we try to capture/highlight cool moments using a severely limited and dying file format lol…so it’s really up to the individual how much they wanna put into it. However, the truth of the matter is that many GIF and graphics makers that contribute greatly to numerous fandoms DO put in a significant amount of effort to make their GIFs look different from and better than the original video.

EXAMPLES OF MY GIFS BEFORE / AFTER FILTERS & COLORING

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More Like Her || Archie Andrews

Originally posted by jubillee

word count :

pairing : Archie Andrews x Reader

warnings : upset reader, bitchiness??

summary : You’ve been friends with the gang for all your life, even dating Archie, you thought you’d like Veronica like everyone else but you start to think Archie is cheating on you with her so that’s not okay.

a/n : thanks you all for requesting for being on my tag list, but for now i will not be adding more people. also, i was listening to this song, it might put a good mood setter for this imagine! 

posting schedule : wednesday, friday, sunday!


     You thought she was a nice girl. Everyone thought Veronica would make a nice addition to your group of friends, you thought that Ronnie was cool that she would fit in nicely. You thought that for a while before you started to pick up on some things that never would add up in a normal person’s mind.

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You Don’t Know Me

Request: I can’t really think about an actual story plot but maybe yoongi getting you pregnant and he chickens out… Aw This is such a bad description but since you’re an amazing writer ypu can pull it off better ☺💖 thank you!

Originally posted by nvmyg

Pairing: Yoongi + Reader

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1.841

Warnings: swearing

A/N: you’re so sweet omg and of course it’s a good description! I hope I made it similar to the way you wanted it to be


Kneeling on the cold bathroom floor, your bare legs had goosebumps spread all over your skin, acknowledging the icy tiles. Hair hold back by one of your hands while the other one stabilized your weak body, your forehead collapsed against the toilet stool. Hasty breaths left your slightly open mouth while cold sweat pearled down your face and back. 

What is happening to me?

You took a deep breath before sitting up straight enough to not feel like an old grandmother having back problems. Grabbing some pieces of toilet paper, you wiped over your mouth before throwing it into the toilet and flushing it down to God knows where. 

Closing the toilet seat, you slowly stood up, turning your body towards the sink, opening the faucet. For a few seconds you let the water run so it could turn completely cold before holding both of your hands underneath it, splashing the icy water into your face. Reflexively, your lungs screamed for air as the cold water hit your face but you just ignored it.

It’s just cold water, calm down.

Grabbing your toothbrush, you brushed your teeth quickly, examining yourself in the mirror in front of you above the sink. Your eyes were encircled by dark bags, skin white as the snow that had already melted away weeks ago. Your hair had lost its healthy shine and just hung there loosely, like overcooked spaghetti noodles.  

Sighing deeply, you finished up your cleaning up and walked back into your bedroom, grabbing for your phone. You had to check the calendar before making any overly fast assumptions about your symptoms.

Opening the calendar app, you scrolled back to the last month.

Date of last period: February 16th

Current date: April 17th

Two months since your last period. Two months since mother nature forgot to visit you and make your life horrible. Oh how you wished, Satan had nested in your uterus in those last two months instead of sitting there in that exact moment, wondering how the hell you got into this situation.

“Two fucking months….”, you mumbled to yourself. “I need to get a test.”

With those words being said, you grabbed your keys and coat, storming out of your tiny apartment, down the street to the pharmacy. Strangers pushed their bodies into yours while trying to pass you but you didn’t notice. All you could think of was if you were ready to get some answers. You needed to know why you were feeling so miserable since weeks but at the same time you were scared. Scared that your assumptions would be true and you’d have to tell Yoongi. Scared that he’d flip and leave you alone. So many things could happen and you weren’t ready to figure out what else could ruin your life. But you had to. 

Pushing the door open, the smell of disinfectant hit your nose, making you scrunch it in disgust. You never liked the smell of disinfectant. It reminded you of hospitals and that again reminded you of death. Not the nicest connection one could think of. That’s why you tried to stay away from that smell. 

Walking up to the pharmacist who looked like she was about to fall asleep any second, you silently prayed that she wouldn’t ask any further questions like aren’t you a little too young to ask for a pregnancy test? where’s the father? do you know who the father is? you should have been more careful, young lady. You really didn’t need that crap right now.

“Excuse me”, you politely asked the woman. “C-can I have one of those pregnancy tests?”, you signaled at the white sticks behind the lady as she turned around to see where you were pointing at. They were the cheapest ones you could see and the only ones you could afford as a college student.

The pharmacist smiled at you and leaned a little closer to you. “Of course, but I wouldn’t recommend those - they’re usually wrong or don’t work at all.”

Then why are you selling them at all? “Oh.. well I guess it’ll have to do, those are the only ones I can afford right now”, you faked a laugh as she handed you the test and you gave her the money. Her expression was pitiful but not judging. More like a mother feeling sad for a child.

“Is there a bathroom around here? I don’t think I can wait until I’m back home”, you mumbled and the lady showed you the way to go.


After finishing your business, you waited in the cabin for the 10 minutes you were supposed to wait, anxiously biting down on your lip.

What if it’s positive? What am I supposed to do? I can’t take care of a baby yet. I can barely take care of myself!

As the 10 minutes went by, you decided that you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t look down at the result by yourself. You needed someone to do it for you. So you walked out of the bathroom back to the pharmacist, who was looking at you questioningly.

“Would you mind- would you mind, telling me what is says?”, you asked hesitantly. “I can’t bring it over myself to do it.”

She smiled at you and nodded. “Sure, turn it around sweetheart, so I can see the bars.”

You turned the stick to her and bit down on your lip hard. Your heart rate increased and nervous sweat started to spread out all over your body. 

The lady took a look and then she seemed to struggle with a fitting facial expression. “I don’t know if you’re going to be happy about this new or not, but it’s positive”, she decided to smile at you warmly as your stomach dropped.

“Positive?”, you whispered, looking down on it yourself. There it was. A pink cross. Or plus. Or whatever you want to call it. 

“I- it can’t-”, you stuttered as your eyes filled with tears. You didn’t even care to wipe them away at that point.

“Oh no dear, don’t cry”, the pharmacist said. She turned around and grabbed another package, a fancier looking one and discreetly slid it over the table. “Shh don’t tell anyone but here - take this one. These are about 89% of the time right unlike the one you just took. Take it with you and do the test when you’re calmed down, okay?”

You looked up at her and shook your head under tears. “B-but I can’t afford that one.”

The lady smiled at you again and pushed it closer to you. “It’s fine. It’s on the house”, she winked and giggled, making you smile at her thankfully.

“No go, rest and take the test”, you nodded at her words, mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ before rushing back to your apartment. 

Maybe you still had a chance.


“What do you mean ‘you’re pregnant’? We always used protection (Y/N)!”, Yoongi screamed in disbelief, brushing his hands through his hair in frustration. “You can’t be pregnant. It’s impossible.”

You rolled your eyes at him and laughed bitterly. “As long as your not sterile and I’m not infertile, I can always get pregnant Yoongi. Condoms can rip and the pill doesn’t work 100%.”

“Fuck!”, he yelled, throwing his phone against the sofa, making you flinch. You had expected him to react pissed or at least not really happy but you never thought, he’d flip like he did.

“Yoongi…”, you approached him, trying to calm him down, needing him to calm down to be calm yourself and not have a complete breakdown.

“Don’t touch me (Y/N)”, he growled.

“But-”

“No ‘buts’! This ruins everything, you realize that right? Everything I worked for so hard these last couple of years. Everything I ever wanted, all ruined because of this fucking mistake”, his voice was as cold as ice as his eyes stared at you, burning not only your body to pieces but your soul as well.

“Yoongi, yes it’s very inconvenient, you can call it a mistake even. But we’re in this together, we can’t change it. But we can go through this together”, you whispered through tears, trying to approach him again. You needed his support more than ever but all he seemed to do was to push you further away.

“It’s not only this pregnancy that is a mistake. This whole relationship was a mistake. I should have never started dating you, then it would have never gotten this far. I would have stayed focused on my work and only my work, not even having the slightest possibility for this to happen. Now what? The fans don’t even know about you! But all of sudden I have a girlfriend and a baby? They’d force me to marry you because we live in fucking Korea and you don’t just get kids without being married yet. My whole life would be ruined!”, by now he was screaming, fuming, running around the house uncontrollably, grabbing things here and there.

His words hit you worse than any weapon could as the meaning behind it sunk in. He thought you were the mistake. You were ruining everything. Everything that was important to him. He hated you in that moment, you felt it. 

You sunk to the floor, sobs escaping your lips as tears streamed down your face and your lungs were searching for air. Hysterical sobs left your mouth as your hands covered your face and your body curled up into a tiny frame.

“Yoongi please!”, you screamed out, lifting your head for a second, only hearing him going through your wardrobe in your bedroom. “I can’t do this without you! I’m a broke college student, I’m alone here, I don’t have anybody else but you!”

His figure appeared back in the door frame to the living room, a packed bag slung over his shoulder. “You should have thought about that before starting a relationship with me.”

Hastily you stood up as his body walked past you, towards your front door. Your fingers enclosed his arm, pulling on it, so he would stop. When he did and turned around, you saw the hurt and guilt in his eyes for a second before his gaze turned back to ice. You knew he cared. He cared but he was also impulsive and his impulse told him that his career was more important. 

“Yoongi, you don’t want that. You love me. You can’t just leave me like this, you’re more than this awful egoistic asshole”, you brokingly sobbed, still holding onto his arm, eyes begging him to stay.

He shook his head, ripping his arm free from your grip. “I guess you don’t know me that well after all then.”

With that, he pushed you off him, slamming the door shut without giving you one last glance, as you glanced after his figure in disbelief, a deadly pain spreading across your chest and stomach, making you gasp for air as more tears covered your face, leaving physical marks of the pain your were feeling.

©jiminelli

anonymous asked:

Hi Steph! I'm new to the fandom, could you please share with me the best Johnlock fanfics (in your opinion)? There is so much of them I'm lost... and I don't know which are the 'legendary' and 'must read' ones. Thank you so much! <3

Hi Nonny!

First of all, WELCOME!! I hope you are enjoying your time here!! OH GOSH, okay so funny thing, I’m actually currently making a list of ALL of my favourite fics ever, because someone else asked me ages ago, and now I have 5 other people asking me LOL.

As I explained in this post here, many people have already made great lists of “the best fanfics” in the fandom… But of course I’m stupidly picky about my fics.

Anyway, since I’m already working on an entire list of my biggest most fave fics ever in every place everywhere, how about for now, since I’m due for it, I give you my last bookmarked fics since I last did a list last month? I hope these will tide you over Lovely! In the meantime, you can also check out my ‘my fic recs’ blog tag, and I’ve a tonne of lists, some of which you can see here

I-J’s Last Bookmarked Fics (July 2017)

Upon Reflection, Tenable Frippery by emmagrant01 (T, 1,299 w. || John’s Beard, First Kiss, Fluff) – John was, inexplicably, growing a beard.

Gigantic by BubbleGumLizard (E, 2,135 w. || Size Kink, PWP) – John seems to avoid Sherlock seeing him naked. Sherlock wants to fix that.This is porn. Part 19 of Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015

What He’s Like by magikspell (E, 2,919 w. || Love Confessions, Fluff, First Time, Inexperienced Sherlock) – Realistic first time. They love each other so much.

Straight Shooter by nefariosity (E, 3,249 w. || Est. Rel., Light Dom/Sub, Military Kink, PWP, Bottomlock) – Sherlock has a military kink. John indulges him.

The Prize We Sought Is Won by deathfrisbees (E, 4,610 w. || First Time, Mild D/S, Oral, Military Kink, Bottomlock) – Sherlock’s in love, or in lust, or both–unfortunately, the object of his affections is not only his completely oblivious flatmate, but said flatmate would probably run screaming into the hills should he find out. John’s been invited to a wedding–unfortunately, the groom used to serve under him back in Afghanistan, and requests that John wear a uniform he’s honestly not sure he fits into. Unfortunately for both flatmates, Sherlock’s got a military kink the size of Kandahar and John wants to know if he actually can fit into this uniform or if his eyes are deceiving him. It goes from there.

Facade by distantstarlight (M, 4,715 w. || Fluff, John’s Beard, No-Shave November, Grumpy Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock) – Sherlock is highly irritated with a challenge John has agreed to undertake. Why does he need to grow a beard anyway?

Telling the Bees by siennna (G, 5,174 w. || Fluff, Beekeeping, POV Sherlock, Love Confessions) – It took a beat of silence for the words to settle in, before both of them realized what John said. “You—” Sherlock started. “I—” John said at the same time. “Love me? You love me?” Sherlock asked faintly. Part 3 of sienna’s favorites

The Death of Doubt by Gingerhermit (E, 6,584 w. || Alternate Canon, BAMF John, POV Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Drama, Meddling Mycroft) – Mycroft asks for John’s help in rescuing Sherlock from his Serbian captors.

Illogical, even. by magikspell (E, 9,119 w. || Grey-Ace Sherlock, Character Study, Growing Up, Victor Trevor, Romance, First Time/Kiss, Sherlock-centric) – Five reasons Sherlock never believed in love and one reason he does now.

With This Ring by Quesarasara (E, 9,121 w. || Est. Rel., Marriage Proposal, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Embarrassing Hospital Visits) – Sometimes even the best of plans go wrong. And sometimes wrong turns out to be exactly right.

The Painted Man by jinglebell (E, 9,894 w. || Tattoos, Scent / Tattoo Kink, Rough & Tender Sex, Fluff and Smut, Obsessive / Jealous Sherlock, Touch Starvation) – Here stood John Watson – middle name, Hamish, ex-RAMC captain and field medic, favourite brand of jam: Duerr’s, preferred toothpaste: Mentadent. Loyal, steadfast, interesting John had just done the most unpredictable thing merely by being.John’s body was covered, neck-to-waistband, shoulder-to-elbow, in tattoos.

Confidential by sussexbound (M, 10,654 w. || Epistolary, John’s Journal, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Self-Acceptance/Discovery, John’s Sexuality) – When John accidentally stumbles upon the Confidential file Sherlock’s been keeping on him he is both angry and curious. What he learns about himself, though–well, that changes everything.

At the Edge of Desire by philalethia (E, 16,375 w. || Post S3, Pining, Arse Worship, Humour, First Kiss / TIme, Sexual Fantasy, Awkwardness) – While helping John move back in to the flat, Sherlock discovers a strap-on among John’s things. He finds the discovery considerably difficult to move past.

Tomorrow’s Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock’s five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Left by lifeonmars (M, 45,153 w. || Magical Realism) – John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible. {{for some reason this wasn’t bookmarked??? I’ve loved this story for years and apparently I didn’t bookmark it??? News to me.}}}

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,883 w. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4.

How will you discover that your life is about to change? For then-20-year-old English actor Tom Holland, he first learned that he’d been cast in the coveted title role in Marvel Studios’ newest Spider-Man film Spider-Man: Homecoming—after a grueling audition process—from an Instagram post.

No matter how that news arrives, being hired to play an iconic superhero is a game-changer for any young actor, and Holland has certainly earned his spot, amassing an impressive body of work since being scouted at dance school in his hometown of London. In 2008, he made his theater debut in the West End production of Billy Elliot the Musical, and has gone on to appear opposite Naomi Watts in the tsunami-soaked drama The Impossible (2012); in the miniseries Wolf Hall (2015), adapted from two historical novels by Hilary Mantel; and in Ron Howard’s Moby-Dick origin story, In the Heart of the Sea (2015). Earlier this year, Holland appeared in James Gray’s The Lost City of Z, for which he decamped to South America alongside Charlie Hunnam and Robert Pattinson. He also has a plum role as Samuel Insull, the General Electric pioneer and onetime secretary to Thomas Edison, in The Current War, out later this year, which chronicles the rivalry between Edison (Benedict Cumberbatch) and his fellow inventor, George Westinghouse (Michael Shannon).

In the lead up to the expectedly seismic release of Spider-Man: Homecoming in July, and with it the sky-rocketing of his star power, Holland and his friend and Spider-Man co-star, the actress and singer Zendaya, went head-to-head on an episode of the curious celebrity game show Lip Sync Battle that aired on MTV ahead of this year’s Movie & TV Awards. Holland, with a full drag-and-dance routine rendition of Rihanna’s “Umbrella,” won the day, and became a viral sensation for his efforts. In May, they hopped on the phone for a lower-stakes sort of back and forth.


TOM HOLLAND: Zendaya, how are you doing?

ZENDAYA: I’m good, man. This is my first time interviewing you. It’s kind of weird. I’m going to keep it real simple. [both laugh] What did you want to be when you were a kid?

HOLLAND: I didn’t really know what I wanted to be. My mom thought I could dance because I used to dance to this Janet Jackson song she’d play when I was a baby. Then she would take me to a Saturday dance school. I used to go every week and got spotted by a scout, who suggested I audition for the role of Billy in Billy Elliot the Musical. When I first started auditioning, I was too small and I couldn’t dance. [Zendaya laughs] I went to an all-boys school, where I played rugby, so ballet wasn’t the coolest thing to do.

ZENDAYA: Kids are kind of mean. Was that ever a thing?

HOLLAND: I think it toughened me up. I loved doing ballet. I trained for two years. I auditioned every six months for Billy Elliot and got slightly bigger every time I went, and eventually I got the job. I’m very happy I had that training. It’s been so valuable to my career, and I’ve used it on almost everything I’ve done since.

ZENDAYA: It’s probably the reason you beat me on Lip Sync Battle. I’m just throwing that out there.

HOLLAND: That was raw talent.

ZENDAYA: What came after Billy Elliot?

HOLLAND: My parents decided that it was time for me to go back to school. And after being at school for only six weeks, I was whisked off to Spain to shoot in a water tank with Naomi Watts for a film called The Impossible.

ZENDAYA: Your mom is a photographer, right?

HOLLAND: Yes.

ZENDAYA: And your dad?

HOLLAND: He is a stand-up comedian and an author.

ZENDAYA: Do you think that has had anything to do with your creativity?

HOLLAND: Definitely. I come from very creative parents. It’s nice to have a dad who’s been in the industry for probably over 30 years because he knows all the dos and don'ts and the ins and outs and stuff.

ZENDAYA: So now we move from Billy Elliot to a big movie. Did you want to be in the industry more and more? Because when I got my first job, I just wanted it even more.

HOLLAND: That happened for me the more I auditioned for Spider-Man. The closer and closer I got, the more I wanted it. I must have been about 18 when I started auditioning.

ZENDAYA: How long was that process?

HOLLAND: That process was five months. I did eight auditions. I did five self-tapes, and then a screen test with Robert Downey Jr. and a screen test with Chris Evans. In the screen test with Robert Downey Jr., they brought me into the room and I met him. I was so nervous. In my head, I thought, “Wow, you look really weird in person. You don’t look like you do onscreen.” I found out later that I met his stand-in. I basically got my nerves out on his stand-in and then met him. Then my screen test with Chris Evans was a movement test. I was like, “Shall I do a backflip?” And all the Sony guys were like, “Can you do a backflip?” “Fuck, yeah. I’ve been sending you videos for the last five months of me doing a backflip. How do you not know this?”

ZENDAYA: Was that the most stressful period of your life?

HOLLAND: It was stressful because the closer and closer I got, the more I could see my future changing.

ZENDAYA: And you wanted it.

HOLLAND: The thing that killed me was the waiting. Even after my self-tapes, they would call me up and be like, “We’re going to let you know tomorrow.” Six auditions later, still nothing. On my last audition, they said, “You need to stay in Atlanta because we’ll tell you tomorrow.” So I stayed in Atlanta for about a week because my cousin lives there. With each passing day, there was no phone call. I flew back to London. Five weeks passed. I kept checking my phone every 20 minutes, trying to find something. Eventually, one day I was sitting on my bed with my dog just scrolling through Instagram, and there it was. It said, “Go to our website and check out who the new Spider-Man is.” And I did. It said my name. I went crazy. My poor dog had a fit. I ran downstairs, told my family. My brother, Harry, was like, “No, dude. Sony’s account has been hacked. They’d let you know. They’d call you.” Which is so Harry, by the way. He’s so pessimistic about everything. But Sony had gotten hacked not long before. Then [president of Marvel Studios, and producer on the film] Kevin Feige rang me up, telling me, “I’ve got great news. You’re going to be Spider-Man.” I’m like, “I know, Kevin. It’s on Instagram. I’m 19. Did you really think I wasn’t going to find it?”

ZENDAYA: Everybody asks me this question: What do you see for yourself? What do you want? Obviously, you’ve done other types of roles that are very different from Peter Parker. Do you want to act forever?

HOLLAND: The 20-year goal is to be a film director. The 15-year goal is to win an Oscar. The five-year goal is to just keep enjoying myself. I really am having the time of my life. But as far as my future goes, I want to stretch myself as an actor in a way that Jake Gyllenhaal, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Meryl Streep do. I don’t want to be stuck to one character. I think that’s what can happen when you take on a superhero movie. So every conversation I have with my agent is, “What have you got for me? What’s next? Who can I play?”

ZENDAYA: It’s cool you want to be a director. When I’m on set with you, you have a very director-like mind. You’re always coming up with ideas and being as involved as possible.

HOLLAND: I like directing because I like working with actors so much. I’d like to be a director who gives my actors complete freedom while collaborating with them to find performances.

ZENDAYA: We never had this in-depth of a conversation when we were on set.

HOLLAND: Ever.

ZENDAYA: Our conversations are …

HOLLAND: Childish.

ZENDAYA: What do you consider your biggest flaw and your greatest strength? That’s a very mature thing to know.

HOLLAND: My biggest flaw is probably my attention span or lack thereof. And while it might seem contradictory, my biggest strength is my work ethic. Like, on Spider-Man, I would just try to outwork everyone. That said, if you ask me to read a book, I just can’t get my brain to focus on it.

ZENDAYA: I feel like I know the answer to this, but what role in an iconic movie do you wish that you could have played?

HOLLAND: James Bond. Or maybe I’ll do Batman.

ZENDAYA: It would be a little unfair if you got to play Spider-Man, James Bond, and Batman, Tom.

HOLLAND: It would be so unfair. But life isn’t fair, Zendaya.

notsarasblog  asked:

In ep8 the search team is out in the forrest, V is talking about her plans to go party and kev suggusts inviting bettey as a distraction and veronica goes "i think she allready has one" (or something like that) and points to the blossems i had thought she was pointing to jug and betty at first. Could you maybe write a fic: V and arch don't connect the dots about bughead during the group couch scene and V and kev see bets and jug making out and tripping over tree branchs ect. (Fluff) thank you

Cute! I love it!
****

“Shhh” Jughead chuckled lowly, tugging Betty behind the trees, his hand wrapped around her tiny wrist.

She was giggling as her ankle got tangled up in a loose tree limb, causing her to fall directly into the handsome boys arms.

Blowing a loose strand of honey blonde hair out of her face, she looked up at him, sea green meeting stormy blue.

“Hi.” She smiled at him, her shiny white teeth showing through plump perfectly pink lips.

She was so damn pretty, it was almost impossible not to stare at her. Brushing a hand to her cheek, he looked down at her.

“How are you doing? Holding up okay?”

She sighed softly, leaning her head into his chest

“You mean the search party? Or the turf war against my family and the girl who’s made my entire high school experience miserable? Or maybe the fact that my pregnant sister is missing?” She laughed humorlessly, pulling even tighter into his body.

He smiled sadly at the exhausted blonde

“All of the above?”

She giggled, looking up at him.
“I’m okay. I’ve got you to hold me up don’t I?” Her eyes were tired, and even though he knew she was joking he could see the insecurity in her face.

He placed his hands to either side of her face and brought his lips close to hers.
“Always” he whispered closing the gap.

Every time they kissed, it felt like coming home. It felt like everything they had been missing. The unsupportive families, the pressure to do everything on your own, the broken hearts and lonely nights, they didn’t matter. What mattered was this. Was us. Betty thought contentedly.

He couldn’t imagine being without her, even in the stillness of the woods, she had a spark that was undeniable. He had been missing that spark for the longest time, resigned to live in his black and white world alone. Not anymore, not when he had found his home, and she was pushed up against the old weeping willow, her hands buried in his hair.

The kissing turned more and more passionate, the cold chill of the late fall air pushing them even closer into each other, Betty’s hips pressed firmly into his, while his hands explored the bare skin under her sweater.

“Echem.”

The pair pulled apart so quickly Jughead almost lost his grip on Betty and she flew backwards before his hands caught her waist.

Veronica and Kevin were standing in front of them now, hands on their hips.

“Well what do we have here?” The cocky smirk never leaving Veronica’s lips as Kevin practically bounced with excitement.

“This is a totally new development, our very own tortured writer and the one and only girl next door. I love it. I need it. I have to have it.” Kevin rambled, squeezing Veronica’s arm.

Jughead was bright red, his hands still on Betty’s waist as she tried unsuccessfully to hide behind him.

“Listen guys, it’s not…”

Veronica cut her off

“Save it B, if Holden Caudfield over there can make you this happy, even in this horrible situation, I am all for it. You have officially gained the Veronica lodge seal of approval. Don’t make me regret this Jughead.” Veronica raised a dangerous brow, before winking at Betty and turning on her her heel.

Kevin went to follow Veronica, before turning back, running to Betty and wrapping her up in his arms.
“You have so much to tell me, I’m sleeping over tonight. I’ve been an awful best friend and I’m sorry for neglecting you.”

She kissed his cheek and nodded as he sprinted off.

Jughead wrapped his arms behind her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder and she leaned back

“Are you okay with this?” He whispered in her ear.

She turned around at that and raised a brow, resting her arms around his neck.

“Okay with what?”

He dropped his eyes
“With everyone knowing we’re together, knowing you’re with me.”

She gripped his chin gently

“Jughead jones, there is no one else in this world I would want to be with. Let everyone know! It just means I get to do this in public.”

She pressed a slow long kiss to his lips.

Pulling away with the goofiest face she had ever seen him wear, he grabbed her hand and helped her over a fallen branch

“Well come on then girlfriend, let’s go find your sister.”

DEAR EVAN HANSEN LYRIC STARTERS ! 
     feel free to change any pronouns & such & make it more like your muse would say it, if you need to ! <3

“ have you been writing those letters to yourself? ”
“ dear ____, today’s gonna be a good day & here’s why…”
“ can we try to have an optimistic outlook, huh? ”
“ can we buck up just enough to see the world won’t fall apart? ”
“ we’re not giving up before we’ve tried. ”
“ this year, we make a new start. ”
“ perfect. ”
“ i’m proud of you already. ”
“ another stellar conversation for the scrapbook. ”
“ i’m kinda coming up empty. ”
“ does anybody have a map? ”
“ anybody maybe happen to know how the hell to do this? ”
“ i don’t know if you can tell, but this is just me pretending to know. ”
“ i need a clue. ”
“ the scary truth is i’m flying blind. ”
“ i’m making this up as i go. ”
“ you are not missing the first day. ”
“ i already said i’d go tomorrow. ”
“ he doesn’t listen. ”
“ look at him, he’s probably high.”
“ he’s definitely high. ”
“ each days another wrong turn. ”
“ i’ve learned to slam on the brake before i even turn the key. ”
“ give them no reason to stare. ”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey, could you please write about Jealous Harry? Not violent,crazy, impossible things but something where you're not properly a couple but you have a thing for each other, and he has made you a little jealous before and now he finds himself in your position when you're casually flirting with another guy? And this guy being really charming and you know hot flirt? I know this is really detailed I'm so sorry, totally understand if you don't want to! I really like your writings!

Ah yes, jealous Harry. Good stuff.
Thanks so much for reading my works, and thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy!
I’ll try to get through all of my requests, but I am a slow writer, so please bear with me. x

You pull your buzzing phone from your pocket and your heart does a little flip when you see the name of the caller across the screen. It’s been a while since you’d last seen Harry. To be fair, you were ignoring him because he was the one who had been flirty with one of the girls from the studio. You know at times he’s naturally flirty- that’s just the way Harry is- but you are still bitter about it and you’ve been blowing off plans with him without giving him a clue as to why.

You pick up the phone after it rings twice and greet him with a soft “hi, H.”

“Are you off work? Thought maybe we could grab dinner or something.” Harry’s voice is so smooth through the speaker you feel a smile form on your lips.

“I’m actually going to get after-work drinks with someone.” You almost feel bad for blowing him off again until a thought crosses your mind. This would be the perfect time for you to get back at him for making you jealous before. “Hey! You should come with us, he’s a really sweet guy and I’m sure you guys will get along.”

Harry hesitates because he doesn’t want to intrude, but you know he eventually says yes because he doesn’t want you getting drinks with another guy alone.

When Harry arrives at the bar, you’re already seated next your coworker in one of the booths. He struts over and settles himself across from the two of you after introducing himself. You notice the way Harry’s brows knit together when he notices how close you’re sitting with the man next to you- so close that your elbow brushes up against the side of his arm whenever you lean in to speak- and you smirk at him and proceed to order a round of shots.

Harry can’t deny that your coworker is handsome, but he also can’t deny thinking that you should be sitting next to him in the booth and not next to some bloke who works in the IT department, especially in the tipsy state that you’re in.

You laugh a bit too loudly than you intend to when your coworker cracks a joke, and you look over to where Harry is staring daggers at you.

“Isn’t he just so funny?”

“Quite funny,” Harry replies to you through gritted teeth, and you proceed to hook your arm over the man’s shoulders.

At this point Harry seems to have snapped.

“Wow, just look at the time,” Harry says before he stands up from his seat to come around to your side and tug at your arm.

You whine as Harry drags you out of the booth and grabs your purse from the table.

“We should leave, you know,” Harry looks at you and you feel him give your arm a light squeeze. “Before we’re late for that thing.”

Before your coworker can ask what thing, Harry’s leading you out of the bar and down the street in the direction of your apartment. You walk with Harry in silence for about two blocks before you start to worry. Of all the times you’ve upset him, he’s never given you the silent treatment before. Maybe this time you’ve really done it.

When the two of you get to a less busy part of the street, you pull Harry’s arm to stop him from walking.

“That was quite rude to leave my coworker there all of the sudden, don’t you think?”

“He likes you, you know that right? I didn’t think you’d be naive enough to let it get past you.” You expected to hear the annoyance in Harry’s voice, but the slight jab of his words catches you by surprise.

“I don’t want anything to happen. Not with him.”

“So you’re just going to openly flirt with some bloke right in front of me?”

“To be fair, you started it when you were flirting with the new producer last week. This was only a joke.”

Harry lets out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t joke around like that,” he says under his breath.

You feel a pang of guilt before you take a step closer to Harry and reach for his hand.

“I like you,” you remind him and he moves his fingers to lace them in between yours. “And if I want you, then you don’t need to worry about who wants me, alright?”

There’s a time and place for everything, and while you and Harry have individual things to work out before jumping into a relationship with each other, the feelings are definitely there, and Harry doesn’t ever hesitate when it comes to telling you he’d wait forever for you.

“Just don’t gets drinks with guys like him anymore,” Harry scrunches his nose at the mention of your coworker.

“No more games,” You promise. “Now let’s go back to mine so we can watch a rom com or something.”

anonymous asked:

As much as I would like to believe in a doting dad King Endymion, isn't that contradicted in the anime when Chibiusa is whole-heartedly convinced that her parents don't care about her? That Pluto is the only one who even likes her? And in the new Sera Myu, if I remember correctly, she feels that she's rejected by everyone, not just some dumb kids. That doesn't sound like a child who grew up with loving parents by her side. She just sounds so lonely.

That is Chibi Usa’s perception, and I think it’s pretty clear in both the anime and manga (especially the anime, honestly) that Chibi Usa is a flawed narrator on that front.

For example, look at the memories we’re shown in the anime to illustrate the idea that Chibi Usa was lonely. There is the one where everyone mysteriously was too busy to celebrate her birthday. Then it turns out they were planning to surprise her with her parents returning from their trip early to celebrate it. Then there’s the one when she falls down in the rain and her parents did not immediately pick her up. In her mind, they were coldly refusing to help her. In reality, it turns out they were encouraging her to pick herself up (and I’m no parent, but it seems like pretty good parenting to me, not to race to pick up your toddler every single time she falls).

I think there’s a lot of factors in Chibi Usa’s loneliness growing up.

  • Her parents are busy all the time. They’re king and queen of the world, after all. There’s a reason most politicians and monarchs employ full-time nannies. The most loving parent can seem distant and cold if their attention is divided because of their job.
  • She’s an only child.
  • She’s the one and only child of the king and queen of the world. Think how much scrutiny she must have been under from the moment she was born. Imagine being a little kid seeing your own face on the tabloids all the time, for absolutely no reason other than who your parents are. Imagine how impossible it would be to feel normal.
  • Kids were mean to her, probably because of that aforementioned scrutiny.
  • She felt like she could never live up to her mother’s legacy, and clearly did not know how to communicate her fears to her parents.
  • Her fears turned into suppression of her own growth and magical powers, keeping her a child forever.
  • It turned into this negative feedback loop where her own fears of failure stunted her growth, but the lack of growth made her feel like a bigger failure and made people scrutinize her even more, so she became trapped in a cycle she couldn’t escape.

The first point is one that I relate to a lot. I have a really loving mother, someone who a lot of my friends and cousins have said they love and wish they had as a mom, but there was a point in my life when I was still desperately lonely. Because she was working long hours at the same time that kids at school were being bullies. Feeling alone at school and then coming home to an empty house really did make me feel rejected by everyone, even though that was objectively not true. That fact that she cared for me and supported me just… wasn’t enough to fix the situation. It was too big for her.

But leaving aside her parents for a moment, even if they were actually cold and distant, what about everyone else? What about the other senshi? What about Diana, who was already there in the manga?

Somehow Chibi Usa managed to be sad even with Diana in her life. You can make me believe that somehow every one of the senshi, including Usagi Biggest-Heart-in-the-Universe Tsukino, became cold and seemingly heartless, but you cannot tell me that Diana rejected Chibi Usa a single time in her entire kitten life.

So what made Pluto special, in a way that her parents and the other senshi and Diana could not be? Other than the fact that Pluto is wonderful and perfect and also incredibly lonely, Pluto has nothing to do with the world that Chibi Usa feels pressured by. Where Chibi Usa’s parents and even the other senshi must represent the world she feels inadequate at accessing, Pluto is literally outside of it all. Being with Pluto was an escape from a reality in which she is a princess living in the shadow of an immortal queen.

But let’s go back to the real issue Chibi Usa had: feeling overshadowed by Neo Queen Serenity, and the need to live up to her legacy. I feel like this is the main isolating force for her. And it is largely internal. Because look at what happens when Venus questions how Chibi Usa can take over as queen if she doesn’t have any powers.

King Endymion is not here for that kind of talk. He shuts that line of questioning down hard. It doesn’t matter that his daughter has been a powerless child for 900 years now, he still believes in her.

And look at how Neo Queen Serenity reacts to the same issue.

Chibi Usa thought she was not good enough, but her parents have never thought that. It was entirely her own insecurities, which she kept too bottled up for anybody to help her deal with them.

And we know that that must be the source of her problems, because from this point on, Chibi Usa is so much happier. She never indicates that Crystal Tokyo is a sad place for her to be anymore. The only time those same insecurities flare up again? Is when she feels overshadowed by Sailor Moon in the present. But she works through it and becomes both a happier person and a better soldier for it.

Long story short, knowing who Usagi and Mamoru are, knowing who Chibi Usa becomes after that first arc, knowing how easily childhood memories can be clouded, I see no reason to believe that Neo Queen Serenity and King Endymion are bad parents. If they were, then there was no resolution when Chibi Usa became Sailor Chibi Moon, and all that character development should have been directed towards resolution with them instead of her own personal growth.

anonymous asked:

Mary Watson as a character absolutely ruined BBC Sherlock. I hope one day you may read the books of ACD and truly appreciate the characters of Holmes and Watson. I have no intention of being rude, but am just baffled how anyone can so misinterpret two of literatures most loved characters.

{{Mary Watson as a character absolutely ruined BBC Sherlock.}}

Such a shame that you think that a great and interesting woman character ruined your interpretation of Sherlock. Even with yer preconceived notion that Sherlock and Watson were gay and in love, I think you could have still enjoyed MG and SM version of Mary Watson. Mary brought love into John’s life and made him happy when he was sadly mourning Sherlock’s death. She gave him a beautiful daughter and most importantly, she became best friends with Sherlock too.

That is the most important part because up until then, Sherlock was the only close and trusted friend that John had (yes Stamford was his friend too but not on the scale of what Sherlock became to John) Mary liked Sherlock instantly and Sherlock liked Mary instantly as well. 

Sherlock knew that Mary was not perfect and that when he read her that she was a liar and keeping secrets but Sherlock had just come off 2 years of lying to his best friend and was still keeping secrets so who was Sherlock to judge when he himself was far from innocent. Sherlock could see that Mary made John happy and Sherlock knew that John needed and deserved to be happy, especially after faking his death and coming back to life.

For John to have Mary in his life at that time was the best possible thing that kept the Holmes and Watson friendship going, she saved that friendship because she knew how much they needed each other, she knew how important that friendship was to each of those men. The addition of Mary Morstan to the Holmes and Watson orbit was not about dividing these best friends, it was about enhancing it, about helping it grow to the next level, which was the brotherly bond that Sherlock and John had.

It was Mary who saved that friendship not once, but twice.

It’s all fine and good you think Sherlock and John were in love, I wouldn’t tell you that yer wrong. If that is yer interpretation of these two characters then, awesome. BUT that shouldn’t cloud yer judgement and enjoyment of the character of Mary Watson because even in the ACD canon stories Sherlock liked Mary. And in BBC Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes loved and protected Mary Morstan Watson. She was his 2nd best friend and they had a bond that was totally real because they both understood each other.

They were very much flawed but they wanted to be better people and they became better people because they had one common denominator, and that was their love for John Watson. And both of them lied and did things to protect John from their truths. They didn’t judge each other and they didn’t have impossible expectations of what a friendship was supposed to be. Sherlock and Mary did the best they could. That is why their friendship worked perfectly.

{{I hope one day you may read the books of ACD and truly appreciate the characters of Holmes and Watson.}}

Honestly I probably won’t ever read the books. My husband who is a huge fanboy of Sherlock Holmes on the scale of the Mofftiss, tried to get me into Sherlock LONG ago but failed. I only became interested in watching Sherlock when I fell in love with Benedict and then fell in love with the BBC version of Sherlock. The writing, the setting of London, the actors that use their talents to bring these wonderful characters to life. The BBC version of Sherlock is the only version I’d ever be into. Fingers cross we will get S5 because S4 was AH-mazing! and I loved every minute of it and I’d love to see them expand on Eurus and explore more of the Holmes Family narrative. I’d love to see John and Rosie interact more, I’d love to see Irene Adler make a surprise appearance and cause some playful trouble for Sherlock AND I want to see how the Molly and Sherlock dynamic continues, now that we know they both love each other. I’d like to see where that love takes them..

{{I have no intention of being rude,but am just baffled how anyone can so misinterpret two of literature’s most loved characters.}}

Anon, no rudeness taken! But I believe you are confusing interpretation with truth. The version of Holmes and Watson, YOUR interpretation is that you believe they are and have always been in love. That they are gay and that is the way ACD wrote them to be, gay on the down low because back then homosexuality was not acceptable. Well, the truth is, ACD modeled these 2 men after people he knew in his real life. And gave them personality traits of the people he knew in that life. We don’t know what the truth was about them. All ACD gave us was the stories of 2 men and their ridiculous adventures and it’s up to the reader on how they want to view this 100+ year old relationship between the world’s only consulting detective and a doctor who became his trusted confidant and documenter of their adventures together.

Thanks for stopping by!

anonymous asked:

I don't want to bother you or stress you out if you're super busy, but can I request a Soulmate AU fic with Reader and Loki? I don't really have any specific plot ideas sorry but maybe some angst that ends fluffy? Hope that's ok for you 😊 Ps. You're an incredible writer x

Pairing: Loki x Reader
Fandom: MCU
Warnings: Soulmate!AU in which you get the same injuries as your soulmate does.

A/N: thank you so much for that compliment, my love! I have to be honest, I was a little worried about this prompt, because I’m pretty much a grandma when it comes to soulmate AU’s. I literally just know a single one and I didn’t like that with loki and reader, but then I stumbled across this one and I just fell in love with it and yes, I’ll stop talking now lol. hope you like it bb <333

                                                          *****

You made your rounds through the compound right now, wishing everyone well in the fight against Thanos.

You were a scientist, not a soldier, so you had to stay put in the compound while some of your best friends might give their life today.

It was tearing you apart that you couldn’t do much more than wish them luck.

The last person on your list to make your farewells to was Loki.

He was standing in front of a giant window, distracted by the outside world.

You slowly approached him and gently placed a hand on his arm, trying not to startle him. If it was even possible to startle an Asgardian god.

“Loki?”

He continued to look out of the window.

“It’s about to start.”

“Yeah. I know,” you lowered your hand and looked outside as well. After a moment of silence you looked at him again. “Promise me to be careful?”

The Asgardian only smiled a little. But it wasn’t a sincere one. You could tell right away.

Keep reading

remmythepegasis  asked:

Prompt: Logan don't believe in superstitions like "broken a mirror - 7 years of bad luck". Prince and Anxiety want to make him believe in superstitions so they decided to be sneaky and make fun of Logic. Their actions make the frightened Logan want to take off the curse. And he goes to Morality for help. What can breake a curse? A KISS!

Being the kind of trait he was, only focusing on facts and what scientific things, Logan was never one to believe in superstitions. They didn’t make any sense. There was no way there could be any correlation between random actions and your luck. Stepping on a crack couldn’t possibly cause one’s mother to break her back. Stepping under a latter in no way negatively affected how the rest of your day would go. Holding your breath while passing a cemetery definitely didn’t add seven years to your life. But his disbelief in superstitions vanished one day thanks to a mirror.

“Logan, be a doll and fetch my hand mirror, would you?” Roman said.

Logan had been through this scenario too many times before to argue. Instead, he just got up from his seat and went to get Roman’s mirror. On his way back to the kitchen a shout from one of the other sides startled him so much that he dropped the mirror. He cringed as it clattered to the floor, shattering into a million pieces.

“Dang it!” he said, going to get a dust pan and broom to clean up the mess before anyone got hurt by the tiny shards.

“What happened?” Roman said, poking his head in the room. “I heard a crash.”

“Apologies, but I have accidentally dropped your mirror,” Logan said, sweeping up the mess.

“Have a fun next seven years,” Virgil mumbled, stepping into the room.

“Sorry about that, Roman,” Logan said.

“It’s no bother, I have at least twenty others,” Roman assured him. “What you really need to worry about is the bad luck coming your way.”

“What are you talking about?” Logan questioned.

“Don’t you know? If you break a mirror, the next seven years will be your worst nightmare,” Virgil warned with a devious smirk.

“Preposterous,” Logan scoffed. “That’s just a silly superstition. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Virgil said, he and Roman sharing a mischievous look.

“Whatever you say,” Logan shrugged.

Later that day, while Logan was standing over the sink, washing his plate and reading a very interesting book, Princey purposely bumped into him, causing the book he was reading to fall into the sink. The water was still running so the pages got completely soaked.

“Seems like that bad luck is starting up,” Roman said as Logan retrieved his book.

“No, that was simply one unfortunate event. It has nothing to do with your mirror,” Logan insisted.

While Roman was busy downstairs with Logan and his book, Virgil was in the logical trait’s bathroom, replacing his bottle of shampoo with an empty one and doing the same with all other containers in his shower. While he was at it, he also put a rip in his towel.

Roman snuck onto his laptop and disorganized some of his files.

Virgil gave him a cracked cup that leaked all over his shirt at dinner.

By the end of the day, all Logan wanted to do was collapse onto his bed and just sleep forever. Unfortunately, his pajamas were all dirty—though he swore yesterday he had at least three clean pairs—meaning he would have to sleep in his clothes and he just now noticed the huge coffee stain on his sheets.

He put his dirty pajamas and sheets in the wash, thinking he might as well, and went back to his room to sleep on the bare mattress. Before he got to his door, he bumped into Patton.

“Hey, Logan!” the fatherly trait said cheerfully. “Why are you still in your clothes this late?”

“My pajamas are all dirty, so I have to sleep in my clothes, but I doubt I will get any sleep because I need to clean my sheets as well,” Logan explained.

“Well, would you like to sleep with me in my room?” Patton offered. “I can let you borrow one of my pairs of pajamas.”

“That would be great, thank you,” Logan said with a small smile. Patton had this way of making everything better. It seemed he could fix anything, although Logan knew that wasn’t possible.

Speaking of not possible, Logan was beginning to doubt his previous stance on superstitions being impossible to be true. His day had been significantly worse than usual. Maybe there was something to this mirror thing.

The next morning, Logan pulled a fresh shirt off its hanger, pulling all of the other shirts with it. He watched in disbelief as all of his other shirts crumpled on the floor.

Patton hated to see Logan so disgruntled, so he went to Roman and Virgil to find out how to lift his bad luck curse.

“I just hate seeing him like this,” Patton said as he, Roman, and Virgil sat on his bed.

“Well, there’s no way to fix it,” Virgil said with a shrug, though he knew eventually he and Roman would lay off the guy.

“Actually,” Roman countered, a bright smile on his face. “There is one way.” Virgil raised an eyebrow at his fellow trait, wondering what he could be getting at.

“Really? Please tell me! I want Logan to be happy,” Patton said.

“Logan’s bad luck will be reversed if, and only if, he receives a true love’s kiss,” Roman claimed. Virgil grinned at this. Both he and Roman thought those two would be adorable together.

“But how am I supposed to find his true love?” Patton whimpered.

“Don’t you see, Patton,” Roman said, taking the fatherly trait’s hands. “You are his true love.” Patton immediately turned read.

“M-me?” he questioned. The others nodded.

“Yes, so all you have to do is kiss Logan and all will be well again,” Roman claimed.

“Okay,” Patton said nervously, getting up to find Logan. As soon as he was gone, Virgil and Roman high fived.

Patton found Logan sitting on the couch in the living room, looking gloomier than Patton had ever seen him. He took a seat next to him and wrapped comforting arms around him in a hug.

“I just wish I knew how to break this curse,” Logan mumbled.

“I know how to,” Patton said shyly. Logan looked up.

“Really?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah, Roman told me how,” Patton said.

“How?” Logan asked desperately.

“Well…” Patton said, awkwardly looking at his lap. “You have to… Uh, we gotta… I…” Patton gave up on his incoherent mumbles and just went for it, pressing his lips against the others. The kiss was very quick, as Patton was afraid Logan would hate it, but when he looked into his eyes again, he found no sign of resentment or disgust, just surprise and… love.

“There, you’re cured,” Patton said quickly before standing up to run back to his room. Before he could leave, however, Logan grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward him, kissing him again. This kiss lasted longer and had much more passion than the first. It was the best thing either trait had ever experienced.

And now, anytime Logan has a bad day, Patton will kiss him and say, “There, you’re cured!”

~~~~
Thanks for the request! 

Please Like/Reblog/Leave Feedback!

~August/Amanda

Fell For You-Jack Avery (Part 2)

Author’s Note: This is the highly requested part two to my Jack imagine titled Fell For You. If you haven’t yet read the first part, here it is!!! Enjoy, hope I didn’t disappoint!!! :-)

♥ ♥ ♥

“Are you ready to order yet?” your waitress asks as you finish your third lemonade. “Still waiting on someone.” you say as you fiddle with your straw out of embarrassment. 

She gives you a look and you sigh before checking the time again. Your best friend Jack was supposed to meet you at your favorite diner an hour ago and here you were, waiting like a lost puppy for him to show.

Your waitress stops by the table again but before she can speak you save her the trouble of breaking your heart with her questions. “I’m leaving. Sorry to waste your time.” you mumble as you grab your belongings and head for the door. 

When you reach your car you dial Jack’s number and when you get no response, you decide to drive over to his place, humming along with the radio until you reached your destination.

All week Jack had been acting weird and it was finally time for you to figure out what was going on with him. He had never been the best at feelings–he saw them as weaknesses–but you had always been the one that he told his secrets to. 

It took some coaxing and hard work on your part, you had to approach him at the right time, in the right place, with the right attitude. It was hard, but you knew what and when to do…And you decided it was time.

When you finally pull up in the driveway you frown as you notice there are no cars in front of Jack’s house. Pausing for a moment, you decide that maybe you should just head home; until you see Jack’s room light flickering through the window. 

Your eyes dart up to his window and even though you can’t see anything, a sick feeling flows through you. Putting the car in park, you hop out and walk slowly to the front door, loud muffled music filling your ears. 

Knocking loudly, you wait for a few moments before Jack swings the door open with a big smile. “Hellooooo (Y/N)!” he yells and you push him inside softly, shushing him as loudly as possible. 

“Jack shut up! Have you been drinking?” you gape and he just grins goofily. You didn’t even have to ask, really, the smell of his breath made it evident. “Nooo.” he says with a giggle and your amusement quickly turns to anger. 

“Is this where you’ve been?” you ask agrily, looking into his eyes in the hopes of finding a piece of Sober Jack to have a real conversation with. “Why do you care?” he asks in a mocking tone, taking another swig of whatever he’d been drinking in your absence. 

“I care because you were supposed to meet me at the diner.” you say and it seems to jog his memory a little because his face changes. “I’m sorry (Y/N)…” he says, and for a moment he seems like he’s winding down for the night; until he speaks again. 

“Buuuut since you’re here, you can join us!” he excalims and you look around the room to see who else could possibly be here with Jack. “Us?” you question when you don’t see anyone. 

“Yes, us!” he says, motioning to the various bottles of alcohol strung across the living room. “We’ve got Kinky and Karkov and UV. I know how fond you are of UV.” he slurs as he reads the labels on the bottles, stumbling through the room just to get to each one of them. 

“Jack you need to settle down.” you say, making your way to the kitchen and turning down the music. “Settle down? For what?” he asks and from your spot in the kitchen you can see him unscrewing the cap of another bottle of liquor. 

“No, no, no.” you mumble as you make your way over to him and pry it from his hands. “Jack why are you drinking? And where are your parents?” you ask, sitting down on the couch and clearing a few beer cans for him to join you. 

His face falls and you sigh as you realize you might have just hit a nerve. “Please just talk to me.” you try again and this time he joins you. “My parents are getting a divorce.” he says softly. 

His words hit you hard and before you can even process them he speaks again. “I never thought this would happen.” he mumbles just loud enough for you to hear. 

“Jack I’m so sorry. Where are they now?” you ask quietly, and you’re glad he’s finally starting to chill out. “They’re out. They wanted us all to go on some stupid family dinner so they could tell Isla the news.” he spits, sitting back on the couch. 

“Jesus Jack that’s terrible.” you say sympathetically. “And you wanna know the worst part?” he asks and you hesitate before telling him to go on. “They told me first. They said I would be the one to understand.” he says, his voice breaking before he could finish his sentence. 

Suddenly everything began to make sense: the way Jack was acting lately, his crazy mood swings, him blowing you off. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask him sincerely and he chuckles before answering. 

“Why would I? Your life is perfect (Y/N), you just wouldn’t understand.” Jack scoffs and for some reason this angers you. “Okay my parents aren’t divorced but so what? I would still be here for you.” you say, getting closer to him on the couch as you explain yourself. 

“Why?” he asks and it completely throws you off. “I mean everyone leaves. Why do you stay?” Jack persists. “I just, I don’t know I’ve never thought about it before. We’ve been friends since birth Avery.” you laugh and he joins you before looking around for another drink. 

“Jack just stop okay?” you half ask, half demand and he frowns at you before standing up to continue his search. “Jack I’m serious. I’m here now, you don’t need to do this.” you say, following closely behind him. 

“You’re not my mom.” he snaps and you can’t tell if he’s joking. “What?” you ask, confusion plain on your face. You didn’t want to fight with Jack but he was making it impossible not to. 

“You’re my friend. Not my mom and certainly not my girlfriend!” he yells as he turns to face you and for some reason, this comment stings. “So now me helping you has to be about us being more than friends?” you ask and at this point you’re even angrier than before. 

“Whatever I think you should leave.” he scoffs, pointing to the door. “No Jack I wanna be here for you, I lo-” you start but Jack continues before you can tell him how you really feel. 

“Just go okay! I don’t need your pity and I don’t need you up my ass. You think you’re so perfect? Well guess what, screw you! I don’t need you in my life!” he yells and his words pierce your heart like knives but instead of trying again, you stoop down to his level. 

“You know what?! I hate you Jack Avery! I hate you!” you say but the tears make it hard for you to yell at him without breaking. You don’t take another look at him, you just run to your car and drive home, the tears stinging your eyes making it hard to find your way home but you don’t care about that. You don’t care about anything…

Not Jack, not his parents and certainly not the trouble he’ll be in when he gets caught…At least you tell yourself that you don’t care. After a few months, though, your thoughts become true.

Jack’s P.O.V.

(Y/N)’s face distorts into a frown at Jack’s words and her teeth bring in her bottom lip as she looks deeper into his eyes. “I don’t believe you.” she says and it’s impossible for Jack to even begin to know what she’s thinking. 

He began to think back to when they were younger…What did (Y/N) do when she thought someone was lying? He studied her face for a moment before offering his reply. 

“I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” “Well you have before.” she says softly, and even though Jack could no longer read her, he could tell she was about to cry. “Yes but I-” he starts but (Y/N) interrupts, her sorrow turning to anger. 

“Just stop Jack. I’ll tutor you but you don’t have to lie to me.” she spits and he doesn’t say anything to defend himself. What else can he say? 

How do you tell someone that you’ve missed them for years? That you’ve watched them every single day, just dying to know how they’re doing but too afraid to ask. 

“You won’t regret this.” he says, getting up quickly and making his way to his car as (Y/N) sends him off with a small wave. Taking one final look at her, Jack started the car and headed for home, completely unaware that (Y/N) stayed out on the deck to watch him drive away.

(Y/N)’s P.O.V.

“Okay so,” Jack says as he sits down the foot of your bed, making himself comfortable as he pulls out his science book from his backpack. You’d been tutoring him for a couple weeks now and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you loved the time you’d spent with him and you often found yourself looking forward to your little study sessions. 

The first few days weren’t easy… All you did was snap at him and even though he endured it without saying anything, a part of you felt bad and you eventually lightened up, making it easier for the both of you. What you weren’t prepared for, however, was to fall in love with him all over again; this time even quicker than the last. 

“The greater the concentration of OH- ions the stronger the base?” he asks and you nod in amazement. “Yes Jack! I feel like you’re finally getting it!” you exclaim from the chair you were currently sitting in. 

“Thank God because my midterm Chemistry test is tomorrow.” he groans, leaning back on the bed a bit and propping himself up on his elbow. He was still facing you but every once in a while you got the chance to steal a glance or two at the boy as he read the text book. 

You liked seeing Jack like this-in “study mode”-with his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed from what you didn’t know was nervousness due to you watching him. “But that stuff is easy. This is the part I don’t get.” he says, sitting up a bit to point at a particular spot in the book. 

“Here, throw me the book.” you suggest and he almost does. “Why don’t you just come over here?” he says and your heart races at the thought of being that close to him in general, let alone in your bed. 

Swallowing hard, you make your way over to him and sit down next to where Jack was laying. “Okay which part?” you ask, blinking a bit to focus your attention back to the task at hand. 

“The whole scale thing. How am I supposed to remember if a solution is an acid or a base by number?” he asks and you think of a way to explain something that freshman you could easily grasp. 

“Well the scale is zero to fourteen, but seven is the neutral area,” you start and he nods as he watches you closely. “So anything with a pH greater than seven is a base and anything with a pH lower than seven is an acid.” you explain and he jots down some notes before turning to you again. 

“Okay, okay. I need to come up with a way to remember that.” he mumbles to himself, raking a hand through his hair. “Well its not that hard. Just think of it this way,” you say, holding out your arms to resemble a horizontal line. 

“Zero is here,” you make a motion with your left hand. “And fourteen is here.” you say, wiggling your right hand. “Okay,” Jack says, holding out his arms to copy you. 

“A, and B.” you say as you motion your left arm and your right. “So anything A is on the left and anything B is on the right. Acid and base!” he exclaims, laughing as he mimics your gestures. 

“Yes! Good!” you say happily, your hands moving to your mouth to stop your laughter. “Thanks (Y/N). That makes sense actually.” he says as he begins to put his notes away for the night. 

“Yeah absolutely.” you reply, biting your lip as you watch him again. “No really. Thanks for everything.” he says as he turns to face you. “The second chance, the tutoring, all of it." 

"Yeah. It hasn’t been too bad.” you joke as you stand to walk him out. “Not bad at all.” your subconscious adds and you smile to yourself as you make your way to the door with Jack right behind you. 

“See you tomorrow.” Jack says before heading outside. “See you tomorrow.” you repeat as you watch him drive away, and you wonder how you ever made it without this boy.

•••••

“(Y/N)?!” your mom calls from the downstairs and you quickly stuff your books into your backpack before heading down to see what she needs. “Yes mom?” you call as you enter the kitchen, only to giggle at the sight in front of you. 

“Oh my gosh!” you exclaim, bending over with laughter as your mom locks eyes with you, her entire front side covered in what was left of her smoothie. “Its not funny.” she squints and you stifle another laugh before speaking again. 

“Sorry. What do you need?” you ask, trying your best not to burst into another fit of giggles. “A towel would be nice.” she replies sassily and you hurry to grab her one, giving it to her quickly upon your return. 

“What happened?” you ask and she cleans the remainder of the mess as she tells you about her mess of a morning. “Well first I couldn’t find anything to wear except all this ugly white top!” she complains, gesturing to her shirt which after this morning, would definitely not be white anymore. 

“And then I forgot to put the lid on the blender when I made my smoothie!” she continues as you grab an apple from the counter top and throw it in your bag. “Jeez mom. Sorry about your shirt.” you offer but she just waves you off. 

“Problem solved I guess! But I can’t give you a ride today, obviously.” she states and you laugh. “That’s okay, I’m getting a ride from a friend anyway.” you reassure her and she grins widely. 

“Is this friend a boy? By the name Jack Avery?” she asks and your cheeks begin to heat up. “Be quiet! Its not like that. We’re hardly even friends.” you defend, but she isn’t buying it. 

“I saw the smile on your face after he left last night.” she says and your jaw drops. “You were spying on me?! Oh my gosh mom!” you exclaim and she throws her hands in the air. 

“Its my motherly duty! It is also my motherly duty to inform you that there better not be anything other than tutoring going on upstairs!” she half jokes and you practically choke. “Mom, gross! Stop!” you yell but it only makes things worse. 

“Come on. We’ve had the talk!” she says with a raise of her eyebrows and you’re lucky that you hear the beep of Jack’s car horn before you have the time to respond. 

“Gotta go!” you hurry to the door, the smile on your face growing as you see Jack in your driveway. “Hey!” he yells from the driver’s seat as you make your way over to his car.

“Hey yourself.” you say as you buckle up and throw your backpack in the back. “How was your morning?” Jack asks and you blush as you think about the last ten minutes you spent with your mom. “Don’t ask.”

“You do know that saying that only makes me want to know more right?” he asks and you think for a moment, silence taking over the car as you debate whether or not to tell him about your conversation with your mom. 

“My mom…” you trail off and Jack picks it back up. “Your mom?” he asks and you turn to look out the window. “My mom thinks we’re…together.” you say and it just now hits you that in a way you and Jack had become something along the line of more than friends in the time you’d spent together. 

“Okay. Why didn’t you wanna tell me that?” he asks as he breaks his concentration from the road to look at you. “I don’t know, it’s awkward. And far from the truth.” you admit. 

Jack’s face falls and you’re met with his familiar hurt expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” “It’s okay.” he cuts you off and you mentally scold yourself for being so mean, even if it was unintentional. 

“Anyway,” you think of ways to change the subject as Jack hums along with the radio. “Your test is today. How do you feel about it?” you ask. “Well the test is only over acids and bases and with the scale thing that you taught me, I’m pretty confident about those.” he says and you smile at the fact that your tutoring is actually working. 

When Jack first proposed the idea of course you didn’t want to tutor him for obvious reasons but what you were most afraid of was that you wouldn’t even be good at it seeing as you had no prior tutoring experience. 

“I’m such a good teacher.” you jokingly boast and Jack chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Quiz me!” he suggests and for the rest of the drive you shout out random numbers, laughing to yourself as Jack as taps his thumbs on either side of the steering wheel to represent the number line as he thinks of his answers.

•••••

“Not gonna lie I’m so nervous right now.” Jack admits as you walk with him to his first class of the day: Chemistry. “It’s okay to be nervous, Jack. Just don’t let it get the best of you.”

“Use it as motivation instead.” you smile at him and he nods confidently. “You’re right. Nerves are good sometimes.” he mumbles as you get closer and closer to the door. 

“Ten more minutes until the bell. If you want I can stay with you and talk for a bit.” you suggest but he declines your offer. “Nah I should actually go in and use this time to study.” he says and you nod in agreement before he turns away from you. 

“Hey Avery.” you call and he turns around once more. “You got this!” you say and he mouths a thank you before you both go your separate ways. As you make your way to AP English you think about Jack. 

Would it really be that weird to date him? After all, most people did think you were a thing already…You brush the feelings aside and when you reach your classroom, you take your usual spot by the window. 

“Alright everyone take out your copies of The Great Gatsby. Today we’re going to be discussing the relationship between Daisy and Gatsby.” your teacher says and you roll eyes before reaching for your book. You definitely didn’t want to talk about relationships right now. 

“So, raise your hand if you think they are as you guys would say ‘goals’.” Mr. Robinson says in a monotone voice and you look around the room to see ninety percent of the class has their hands up. 

“Interesting.” he mumbles, making a mental tally of the hands and writing it on the board. “Now, raise your hand if you think the relationship was complete garbage.” he says and your hand is the first to shoot up. 

“Ah, Miss (Y/N). Would you like to share your thoughts with the class?” Mr. Robinson asks and you sigh because you know that even if you say no, you’ll be forced to share anyway. 

“Sure. The relationship is lacking and almost completely one sided.” you say plainly, earning a few glares and a few nods. “What do you mean by that?” he presses and you fiddle with your pencil as you go on. 

“Well its obvious that Gatsby, even though he is technically a homewrecker, has pure intentions when it comes to Daisy. I just don’t think those intentions are returned.” you say and a girl named Courtney scoffs before turning around in her desk to face you. 

“Whatever! Daisy is just as much in love with Gatsby as he is for her.” she argues. “Yeah okay sure.” you say with wide eyes and she rolls her eyes before turning to face the front again. 

“Please elaborate a bit more.” Mr. Robinson says and the pressure of the eyes of the class is now completely on you, everyone interested in what you have to say. 

“Gatsby has everything but the one thing he wants is Daisy. Daisy has everything but she wants more and more. Gatsby loves Daisy always, and he would do anything for her if she asked.” you start and everyone seems to be surprised by your response.

“Daisy isn’t in love with him, she’s in love with the idea of him. Its completely obvious since she only comes around when she needs something.” you huff and the teacher just smiles at your response. 

“Courtney, anything you’d like to add?” he asks and this time Courtney stands before sharing her opinion. “Okay so maybe Daisy is a little unclear with her feelings and maybe she is indecisive but that doesn’t make her love any less real.” she says and you begin to apply it to a real life situation. 

Not just any real life situation, but your real life situation. “If Daisy really loved Gatsby, she would have told him. She wouldn’t have pushed him away when she didn’t want to deal with him!” you say and you realize now that you’re raising your voice. 

“Daisy made a mistake. Everyone deserves a second chance.” Courtney says, her stance not wavering. “Well its not like if given the chance, they could go back to how things were! You can’t undo the past.” you continue and Courtney just sighs. 

“You can if the person is worth it.” she says and it suddenly hits you that you’re taking this all way too personally. “Can I go to the bathroom?” you blurt out, earning an echo of laughter from the class as he nods in confusion. 

Once you reach the hallway you sigh heavily before heading to the bathroom as slowly as possible. “Maybe I’m being too hard on Jack.” you think to yourself as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. Even if he did hurt you in the past, that’s what it was now, the past. 

How long were you going to go before you quit fighting your feelings for him? How long could you go? A splash of cold water to the face saves you from your thoughts and you wash your hands before returning just in time for the bell.

As you zip up your backpack and head for the door Mr. Robinson stops you. “You made some valid points in the discussion today. Great job (Y/N), you really surprised me with your thoughts.” he says and you smile softly. 

“Yeah. Courtney was right about one thing though.” you say and on your way out the door you answer the question going through his mind. “Everyone deserves a second chance.” And with that, you make your way to the Chemistry room.

•••••

A moment or two passes until you spot Jack’s curls in the crowd of students in the hallway and you rush over to him. You didn’t know exactly what you would say but you knew that you had to act fast. 

“Jack!” you call after him and he smiles before meeting you halfway. “Hey.” he says quietly as he leans against the wall. “So how did it go?” you ask and he shrugs before reaching into his backpack and fishing out his test. 

“You tell me!” he exclaims and hands you a paper with an A- written in the upper hand corner. “A minus! Oh my God Jack, way to go!” you yell happily and before you know it you’re wrapped up in a bear hug, his arms tangled up around your shoulders and yours secured around his waist. 

Everything happened so fast and for a second it was pure bliss. Jack quickly pulls away from you, a string of apologies and curse words leaving his lips as he turned to walk away. 

“Wait.” you say softly and he looks you in the eyes again. “I’m sorry (Y/N) I just got excited. I didn’t mean to-” Before he can finish his apology, your lips are on his. 

After the initial shock wears off, he deepens the kiss and you don’t part until the ring of the school bell brings you both back to reality. “I thought you said-” “Screw what I said.” you say before leaning in to kiss him once more.

Don’t You Leave Me Brokenhearted Tonight

A/N: i legit never thought i’d do a series, but I feel a newfound inspiration to do so. i’ve been singing brokenhearted by karmin all fucking week so this whole idea came to me from that and thinking about drugs’ abilities & here i am writing somethin’ out of it

so strap on ya socks, grab some snacks & tuck yourself in bc my writing sucks but i want people to read anyways :)

WC: 1.7k

enjoy!! x


P A R T  O N E

Lights in deep shades of purples and reds. Solo cups littered along the carpet that was bound to reek of beer and vodka by the end of the night. A pop song of sorts coming from the stereo speakers in the farthest corner of the living area. This night was hell-bound for disaster. The marijuana wafting through the thick cold air wasn’t much welcomed to my nose, but I’m no stick in the mud. A—borderline overwhelming stench—wasn’t gonna hinder my good time.

I didn’t stress and breakdown in tears of anger everyday these past two weeks to turn my ass around. I wanted to at least try to enjoy the party. “I promise, it won’t be that bad.” Mani assured me, slathering her lips in a cherry red lipstick from her makeup vanity. I believed her. As my bestfriend since 6th grade, she’s never steered me into anything that would kill me. Get me grounded? All the time. Make me question the safety of our friendship? Depends on the severity. However, she’s always proven that she was someone I’d love having by my side.

With never dragging me into the dark side, she was right. The party was in full swing—or at least I assume it is—and I’m still not broken or passed out on a couch somewhere while two teenagers eat each others’ throats out beside me. I guess tonight can’t be that bad.

I scamper into a tiny overpopulated makeshift kitchen to find a drink, seeing cans and 2 liter bottles of sodas, untouched Solo cups of assorted colors and sizes, bottles upon bottles of liquor, and a large punch bowl full of crushed ice occupying the counter tops. Thank god. Vodka won’t be my only option. I could possible be the DD tonight. The last thing I need is a totaled car and hospital bills racking up past my tuition.

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         since it’s DEAN’S THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY ( SEPT 2ND ), lou made a list.  

over the course of three years, i’ve encountered so, so many incredible people.  i know i can never thank everyone enough for all the kind compliments and the beautiful messages that i constantly receive here, but i’ve decided to leave a small message for most of the blogs i follow below, because i want as many people as possible to get a lil piece of recognition and appreciation !

lil note: for my own sanity, i’ve only listed the active people, in the order i followed from first to last.  this is one hell of a list tbh ( 100+ people ), so, i’m super super sorry if i missed someone, because i probably did.  i’ve gone through the list several times.  my intention was to get as many people as i could, and at one point it got quite overwhelming.  

tldr; as a way of saying thank you to everyone for following me, i left a positive message for as many people as i possibly could !

press ctrl + F and type your url, so you can find your message !

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