#any tips on how to not be in pain would be so swag

[corpsecowboy]

what kind of evil world do i live in where i at 19 years old have the same levels of joint pain that my 40 year old father has

[pawlmtree]

Any tips for an 18-soon-to-be-19 year old whose time has come to yeet the teeth of the wise?

i am just some guy and i can't give you medical or therapeutic advice but i have had my wisdom teeth removed so i can share how it was for me at least!

i got my wisdom teeth taken out when i was 16 and i asked for IV sedation rather than just nitrous oxide which made it so i was completely unaware of the whole procedure. if thats something you think it would be good for you (i was way too scared to be awake during it) and you can ask for/pay for it then i recommend it.

recovery is always worse than surgery. for me the pain in recovery wasn't actually the worst part it was that i had to only eat soft foods...(i stopped being able to eat mashed potatoes for a while bc i had eaten them so often during recovery) however it really is not that bad in the long run especially if you dont have complications (i was lucky enough to not have any)

you will be okay i prommy. you will lose a bit of wisdom but it's okay because you can fill that gap with swag and silliness

[rainydaylately]

❥ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨

❥ 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫



about + summary: riddlie boo becomes a lil obsessed with u aka baddie server at the diner also posting this on my break yolo swag i love y’all bye omg also gender neutral reader

word count ~ 1700+

perfection was something that never existed yet so many strived for, no person nor their actions could be perfect no matter how hard and deliberately someone would work for it. although, to believe someone was truly perfect is another view on this topic.

edward (gross ass name) nashton would be the definition of star-struck whenever you walked over to pour him a cup of coffee each night he would he would visit the run down diner. an old mom and pop shop that opened some time in the late eighties and still managing to keep a flowing business in the present day.

the accountant with the green jacket was always a regular, coming in after work becoming a regular occurrence. if he was not there when the sun began to set he would definitely be there in the earliest hours of the morning. hunched over against the counter he always sat at, pen in hand as his hands wrote and crossed out numerous words with a cup of coffee always set beside him.

during one of the earliest hours of the night, your shift began at exactly midnight. thankfully nothing too crazy had happened in the past hour, numerous college students attempted to pull all nighters for any due assignments the following day. other than that it was strange how calm and quiet this night was. leaning against the counter with a magazine sprawled in front of you, you flipped through the pages as the jingle of the bell alerted you that a new customer came in.

looking up, you were greeted with your favorite regular, eddie. he waves as you greet him back with a smile to your face. it had been about a few months that eddie had become your favorite customer, and you were eddie's favorite server. you never had to plaster a painful fake smile or pretend to care about their awful jokes and any boring conversation for larger tips on your pay check.(coming from a bitch who works at food service this sucks but them tips be worth it)

"the usual coffee?" you asked eddie as he sat down.

"yes please, thank you. how are you [name?]" taking out his beat up note pad to write down all his ideas running through his head. eddie would love to tell you about his  future plans for the city of gotham and what he began to plan to deal with bruce wayne. though, he didn't want you to run away. especially to the police. you were perfect and sweet, the kindness you served him was genuine and never out of pity.

"not too bad actually," you begin to ramble out about your day leading up to work whilst fixing the coffee for eddie. more sugar than milk just the way he liked it, sliding the mug over to him he nods as a thank to not interrupt your little ramble. now talking about a movie you saw earlier today and why exactly you had a burning distaste for one of the lead roles.

"what's this?" eddie asked as you slid him a piece of pumpkin pie across the counter.

"for you!"

"but i didn't order a-"

"eddie," you stop him while his face begins to burn up. the tips of his ears, his cheeks, and nose had begun to flush up and you giggle, "it's for you! from me to you."

"oh no i can't-"

"eddie," you state as you cupped his hands in yours. they're cold, from the night air biting his skin but yours were warm enough to thaw the bitter ice away. eddie burns up even more, turning his head from embarrassment as he retrieves one hand to adjust his glasses. 

kindness always seemed to unsettle eddie, in his youth he was met with blistering torment of others turning their backs and shunning him. casting him out and away from society, loneliness being his only comfort from laughing faces and pointing fingers. when shown the slightest drops of kindness, it was always for the other's benefit. belittling as well as ridiculing poor eddie to untrust everyone, but there was something different in the way you talked to him. it was inviting, never gaining suspicion from your actions. 

since the first day you interpreted that eddie was just some lonely nerd, easing him into conversation that immediatly suprised him. but with time did it develop into a friendship rather than a worker forcing kindness for larger tips. eddie still tipped though, even when you offered free baked goods and coffee since your boss never cared. 

"thank you," he finally replies with his rounded cheeks puffing with crimson shades, traveling to the tips of his ears as you noticed. 

continuing the night, you made your rounds serving coffee to the other two or three customers scattered about in the diner before retreating next to the seat beside eddie. talking for hours before needing to sweep the ragged tile floors once more and flip the open sign to "closed" until a few hours for the morning shift. 

eddie bid you goodbye and promised to come next afternoon, before walking through the doors you made him swear by it with the old pinky promise. he laughs and agrees, linking his in yours. noting that his fingers were shaking yet you never minded, he was sweet and waved goodbye. 

gathering your belongings, you begin the relief of walking back to your apartment as you pondered about how you would ask eddie to hang out with you the following day. he mentioned numerous novels he adored, even giving you one of his favorites that were littered in tabs and of annotations. reading his thoughts as you glided your fingers across the writing. perhaps you'd ask if he'd like to accompany you to the new bookstore downtown? 

finally reaching inside your apartment, greeted by no one, you settled down for the night. slipping into the sheets after freshening up, staring at the ceiling above you whilst waiting for the sweet release of sleep to overcome you. to finally escape from reality for a few hours. 

eddie believed you were an incredibly kind and sweet person, the only one who never took advantage of him and one he would want to consider a "friend." having kept the pens you gave him and little napkins of doodles. cluttered in the corner he had of some of your other belongings he stole when you paid no attention. compared to the disgusting city of gotham, you were pure. a saint from heaven herself in this god forsaken town that needed to be rebirthed. a change from the sin filled streets, riddled with criminals and corrupt systems. 

he'd been watching you the entire time, just him taking precaution that you were the person you acted to be. with the truth disclosing the generosity you held he felt at ease yet intrigued. eddie admired you and soon obsessed with you. photos of you covered the corner of his desk inside the cluttered apartment he owned. easily being able to watch you from his window, watching as you struggled to fall asleep tonight. 

an old, ragged phone was held in his hand. nothing new and could be easily destroyed if necessary. entering the correct buttons to add a new message, eddie typed in your phone number. how did he get it? who knows... but really who is surprised? love can make someone do odd things, but maybe eddie was confusing love with obsession. he begins typing his message. 

who on earth would be texting you during the early hours of the night? your phone dings as the bright screen washes over you, checking the unknown number and their message. 

<?> hello...

<?> would you like to solve a riddle? [name?]

no fear washed over you, just confusion as you didn't want to deal with random strangers when you wanted to rest. eddie waited for your response.

no 

he types.

<?> oh just one please? 

<?> it won't be hard i promise! please?

you were about to say no again before the stranger starts typing again.

<?> riddle me this...what can be one's greatest strength but also greatest weakness? 

eddie excitedly waited for your response, taking a second or two before getting the little chime that you responded. only thing was, his face twisted in confusion. 

"why did they like their own message?" he asks to no one. 

your message simply said 'ratio' with a heart showing you liked your own message. eddie typed again.

<?> did you not understand the riddle? would you like another one? 

<?> i can give you an easier one.

he didn't want you to stop responding, from the phone he looks out the window watching your tired state 

no i don’t

<?> do you even know who you're talking to?

no 

eddie huffs, upset as your reaction was not at all as the one he predicted in his head. he sent you a message disclosing himself as the riddler, the one seen on the news and who many began to fear. at this point you didn't believe it and didn't care. 

so? 

<?> so what??? 

in disbelief, eddie began insulting and sending crude remarks about you. message after message blowing up your phone. only growing impatient and angry at how you truly did not care. 

dont care + L + bozo + ratio

<?> you better start watching your back from now on

blocked and reported tbh... goodnight <3

before eddie could respond, you had immediatly blocked this phone number and shut off your phone to finally retire for the night. eddie watched, stunned in disbelief. watching your sleeping state calmly inhale and exhale as he planned on what he would do with you next.

[mothmannnnn]

Hello sexy beautiful awesome cool swag mutuals, Gar asked me to finish a fic they wrote and we wanted to share :p Read at your own risk <3

-

If luck—a notion he’d only allowed himself to entertain after meeting James Kirk—really did exist, then it was only logical to assume its opposite existed as well. Bad luck. 

Spock couldn’t think up the logistics of the situation he and Kirk had found themselves in: why he was injured on a too-cold planet, how they had lost their communicators, how they had run into the sort of intelligent life they weren’t supposed to interact with—why they now sat, shoulders pressed together, inside a hollow alien tree. In his current, less than stellar state, he wondered if it was statistically possible to have this much bad luck.

They were able to elude their assailants through Kirk’s resourcefulness. He had eyed the hiding place while they were running from their assailants, an area near the roots they had just been able to squeeze past and fit inside. Spock vaguely wondered if the tree had rotten out, or if a creature similar to the earth woodpecker inhabited the planet and had once called the space they now sat in its home. He wondered why the wood on this planet was a pale shade of blue, the trees even more massive than the redwoods, and how this miraculous life could happen somewhere so cold. He wondered about the probability of his survival. Spock ghosted his fingers over his bloodstained abdomen. 

“Spock . . . Spock.” Kirk had his hand on his shoulder and was looking into his eyes, and Spock had to rip himself from his own mind. “You’re shaking,” He said. Spock was suddenly aware of the almost violent tremor of his own body, of the biting cold on his ears and hands and everywhere except where Kirk had his leg pressed up against his. 

“I’m very cold, Captain, and I believe—” he had to stop himself, he had to stop shaking, he had to gain back some control. He took a breath—too deep—and pain blossomed in his side, time tripping over itself. It was so cold out. “I believe I may be bleeding internally, from the injuries I sustained.” he said. 

Kirk was leaning over him then, eyes wide as they searched over him, one hand on Spock’s shoulder and the other hovering hesitantly over the blood stains on his uniform. “How bad is it? is there anything I can do? Are you—“ Spock grabbed Kirk’s wrist before he could flood him with more questions, before he could touch him and defile his hands with his blood. He didn’t like to see Kirk like this, anxious, and he especially didn’t like that he was the cause. 

“I can do something about it but . . . I must focus all my energy on healing myself.” Spock said, finally meeting Kirks eyes. He nodded, his mask of cool command back on. 

“The healing trance?” Kirk confirmed. 

“Yes but I—” There was too much going on, the cold, the bleeding, the hiding (James Kirk’s thigh pressed against his, hand in his, his worry) “I can’t regulate my body temperature while in the trance, I need some external method of—” Kirk pulled his hand away from Spock’s grip and went for the hem of his own shirt. He’d had it half way up his chest before Spock was able to catch Jim’s shirt and pull it back down. “No captain, you can’t-” Spock started, taken completely off guard but beginning to catch on to what Kirk had been thinking. 

“The extra clothing will keep you warm Spock, please just let me—“

“Your body heat is sufficient, Captain,” Spock insisted. Although he knew it was not logical, as Kirk’s body was better equipped to withstand the cold and therefore he would be able to spare the cotton shirt, Spock felt hesitant prioritizing his captain’s comfort below his own. 

Kirk looked thoughtful for a minute, his brows furrowing and his hands absentmindedly rubbing his jawline. 

Spock was getting delirious—he knew it was due to the increasing loss of blood in his body. He must begin the healing trance as promptly as possible, but a strange, illogical thought wormed itself into his mind. What will Jim do while I am gone? 

If they were to be revealed by their assailants, it would be highly unlikely that Jim could fend for himself, and it would be too dangerous to pull himself out of the healing trance. 

Before Spock could think of a solution, he felt warm hands around his waist, a strong chest against his, and the point of Jim Kirk’s chin on the crook of his neck. 

“Captain, you’ll get blood on your uniform.” 

“Tough luck,” was Jim Kirk’s eloquent reply. “We’ll have to be in close proximity for my body heat to do anything for you.” 

“Well, I . . .” Spock’s words trailed off, and he was, for perhaps only the second time in his life, at a loss for words. 

He found something akin to courage in his deliriousness, pulling away so that he might look Kirk in his eyes. “I do not like showcasing my . . . differences, as compared to you, Captain.” He motioned to the greenness of his blood, slowly darkening and expanding across his abdomen. 

“Spock, that is perhaps the most illogical thing you’ve ever said.” Astonishingly, he heard amusement in Jim’s voice, despite their current situation. When he looked over, eyes barely able to open, he saw that his captain’s lips were pulled into a ghost of a smile. His eyebrows, however, were still furrowed with concern. “What does it matter if your ears are pointed or your blood is green? Why would it ever matter to me?” There were unspoken words within that statement, even Spock was able to identify that. But he was not quite able to extract the meaning. Why would it ever matter to me? 

“I know it is not logical, but I have always envied the redness in your veins, Jim.” If Kirk had noticed the slip in formalities, he did not reveal it. “Red is the color of vitality, of passion. It is something I will never possess beyond a medicinal diagnoses. But green . . . green is the color of cowardice. Of envy.” 

“You’re not speaking any sense, Mr. Spock.”

“There are many things I do not have the courage to tell you, Jim.” 

If the silence that followed was indicative of disgust, Spock might have felt shame. But Kirk only lifted one gentle hand to Spock’s cheek, and wiped a tear that he had not known had fallen. 

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Spock,” Kirk reassured, prompting him to fall into his healing trance. He could not hold out for much longer. “We’ll get through this, I promise, and . . . when you’re awake, maybe you’ll feel a little more courageous.” 

Through their connection, both physical and emotional, Spock could feel the tug of emotions in Kirk’s chest. Stress, worry, regret and surprisingly—the last thing he felt before slipping off to unconsciousness—affection beyond platonic admiration. 

He slept. 

-

As promised, Jim was there when he awoke on the Enterprise again. He was still a little bruised, and his lip was split, but other than that, Spock could not discern any permanent physical harm.

“You’re awake,” 

Humans had an interesting habit of announcing something that was not in need of announcement. 

“I am,” Spock nodded, noticing that he had been relocated to a corner cot in the medical bay. “How long was I in the healing trance?”

Before Kirk could reply, a voice interrupted from the doorway. A booming, slightly southern accent that Spock recognized immediately, despite the state of his foggy memory. “A week,” Doctor McCoy said. “And what a hell of a week!”

“Hello, Doctor,” Spock greeted the newcomer. 

McCoy went on as if he had not heard him, muttering, “I thought Jim might go mad and strangle me! Waiting in here like some wartime widow, what a hassle!”

He went on like this, spewing good-natured insults until he exited the room, holding Spock’s file (which he presumed was what McCoy had originally came in the room for). 

Kirk looked at Spock, the tips of his ears red. This blush, which creeped up his neck, was what prompted Spock to remember the last conversation they had. 

The color of vigor. Of passion. The courage that Spock had lacked, until, in a lapse of judgment, he had admitted his best-kept secret: his feelings for James Kirk. 

“I’m glad you’re awake, Mr. Spock—even if Bones isn’t,” the tone of his voice was light, nothing remarkably fond, but his hand reached down and gently held Spock’s. 

The action was innocent enough, Spock knew. He had seen many humans hold each other’s hands for comfort, for solace. But to himself, a Vulcan, the intimate action made his own ears glow green.

“It’s okay if you don’t have the courage right now, Spock,” Jim continued. He smiled, and Spock found himself wanting to do the same. “You were very brave on that planet.” 

In a rare show of physical affection, Spock lifted Kirk’s hands to his lips, and kissed the soft palm. 

Understanding the meaning of this action, Kirk in turn lifted Spock’s hand to his own mouth, pressing a warm kiss on the back of his hand. 

“When you’re ready, Mr. Spock,” Kirk smiled, “I think we should take a long shore leave—somewhere warmer, preferably.” 

Spock squeezed the hands still holding his, hoping that this seemingly modest reaction could begin to express all the feelings he had for Jim Kirk. That perhaps Jim might feel, through his own human senses, Spock’s unfailing devotion to him. 

“Yes, Captain,” he said. “I would like that very much.” 

[elvendara]

Sugar and Spice Day 3

July 14th

Rock concert (Rockstar/Fan)

“Five minutes till curtains up!” the man ran backstage shouting over the din. Saeran expected a knock on his door shortly and sure enough, it came. Without waiting for an answer, the man opened the door to let him know the time limit. Saeran locked eyes with him through the mirror and nodded.

Once the door was again closed, he stared at himself. He’d long ago bleached his hair white to differentiate himself from his twin. Saeyoung worked in the shadows, it wouldn’t do to have a famous brother who looked exactly like him. He also utilized colored lenses. It served two purposes, he didn’t need to wear glasses, in fact, his fans didn’t even know he needed them, and the mint green was a stark contrast to his regular, amber-colored eyes. The pink tips were a more recent addition, but he liked them.

Black eyeliner was expertly applied, years of practice making it almost effortless. He took a sponge and smudged it, giving himself that perfect edgy look. The earrings were already in, silver crosses dangling on each side of his face. Ironic really, considering he didn’t believe in God. The thick black silver studded collar was snuggly around his neck as was the matching cuff around his right wrist. He stood and grabbed his leather jacket, sliding it on and glancing into the full-length mirror he had been given in his dressing room. He was comfortable in this persona. The music had been a way for him to deal with his life. Writing down his anger, confusion, and loneliness was a way to get it out of him. It became bigger than him pretty quickly and he found that hiding behind rock stardom meant he didn’t have to answer any real questions about his true self. It worked. Except it kept him lonely and alone. He’d come to terms with spending the rest of his life that way. It was easier than imagining being real with someone. Who could ever love the real him anyway?

He smirked at his reflection as he laced up his biker boots. Time to bring the house down!

..

He was soaked in sweat but didn’t feel tired. In fact, he felt invigorated, like every time he finished a concert. Feeding off the audience was one of the biggest perks to his career. Someone handed him a towel and he wiped his face with it.

“Great show Saeran!” one of the concert coordinators told him. She held a tablet to her chest and had a handful of fans behind her. Five doe eyed girls and one shy looking boy. Well, now that he looked closer, he was definitely a man, close to his own age. He looked sheepish being with the teenaged groupies. “These are the VIP’s for tonight’s afterparty. Thought I’d introduce you before you change.”

“Nice! Great to meet you, I’m glad we’ll be hanging out tonight. Hope you have a good time. Congrats on winning the backstage passes.” He regurgitated. There wasn’t always an afterparty but there were some special guests, rich, who had paid for the whole thing, so he’d been pressed to oblige them with an appearance. He hated the politics of being famous, but he did love his fans. It was because of them that he could enjoy what he did. If it was up to him, he’d fill the party with fans and not rich entitled groupies. He knew he would spend the night fending off offers to ‘get to know each other better’ all night.

“Oh my GOD! It’s really you!”

“Wow! You’re so HOT!”

“Ahhh, my friends are never gonna believe this!”

The girls were just cookie cutter versions of every other girl he’d seen. He couldn’t blame them; it’s how they sold his image. The man looked embarrassed; he wouldn’t even look him in the eye. He took the chance to check him out. He appeared to be a tad shorter than himself, with blond hair and pink clips holding back his bangs. He wore one of his concert shirts and tight-fitting skinny jeans. His nails were painted alternating pink and black with the black ones having his band’s logo on it, a mint green eye. So he really was a fan. Cute too.

“Uh, well, like the lady said, I have to go get changed for the party, I’ll see you all there. And be sure to grab your swag bags before you leave, don’t let them rip you off there! There’s a CD with a snippet of some of our new songs.” He winked and walked off. There was a lot of oohing and ahhing as he left.

He took a quick shower and dressed in a ripped black T-shirt, black jeans and his biker boots, putting all his accessories back on and reapplying his eyeliner. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked out to the convention center next to the arena. Of course he wasn’t alone, he had security that surrounded him and paparazzi snapping pics as he made his way to the party. They screamed questions at him that he didn’t answer, he smirked, the signature look the media had come to know him by. Surrounded by so many yet feeling so alone. Making it next door took longer than it should have because of the circus around him, but make it he did.

Once he was inside he was taken by the arm by the coordinator who had introduced him to the fans, he couldn’t remember her name but she seemed nice enough. At least she didn’t flirt with him like other women did and took her job seriously.

“You’re here, great, first you should go say hi to the Han family, they’re the ones footing the bill for this afterparty, then you can have a few minutes with the fans before talking to some reporters…”

“Whoah.” He stopped in his tracks and could swear she left skid marks with her heels she’d been going so fast. “I want more than just a few minutes with those fans, and who are all these people anyway?” He saw his bandmates and some of the roadies, but everyone else was a stranger.

“Nobody you need to worry about, uh, I’ll see what I can do with the schedule.” She seemed frazzled but clicked away on her tablet while heading off again. He assumed he should follow, so he did.

“Mr. Han, I appreciate you taking the time and effort for this function.” Saeran greeted the elderly man.

“Ah, of course of course, anything for my new bride!” he had his arm around a young woman who was clearly less than half his age. The rumors about C&R’s head were obviously true. Standing on his other side was a tall and elegant man who appeared to wish he was anywhere but here. He’d seen that face plastered on magazines of all sorts. The heir apparent, Director of C&R, Jumin Han. They nodded respectfully at each other, Saeran feeling sorry for the man and having to deal with his father’s escapades, but the old man seemed like a descent sort. After a few minutes of his ‘wife’ fawning all over him, making him feel uncomfortable, the coordinator pulled him away. He was thankful to her for saving him.

She escorted him towards a section in the back, past all the dancing and the loud music, that was closed off. The music was still loud but at least he could hear himself think. In the section the fans sat, eating and drinking snacks on the coffee table. They all stood up and rushed him. Well, the girls did, touching him and giggling. Where were their parents? They didn’t look old enough to be out. They sat him down and pressed against him. The blond man sat to the side in a chair and continued to sip his cola and eat the snacks, sneaking a look now and then. He wished he could just be alone with him and have a conversation. At least he wouldn’t try to crawl on his lap like these girls seemed to want to do. Well, maybe he wouldn’t mind if the blond tried that.

After about 30 minutes, which felt like a lifetime, the coordinator gathered up the girls and took them out. It was past midnight and he guessed he had been right about their age, couldn’t have minors out at all hours of the night. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It felt like they had leached some of his life force out and he was drained.

“I guess that happens all the time to you huh?”

Saeran sat up abruptly, how could he have forgotten about the blond?

“Sorry, I’ll go if you want to be alone.” He stood and Saeran panicked.

“NO!” he stood, banging his knee on the coffee table, sending him on his ass back on the sofa. He grabbed at the knee, eyes scrunched, “Ow ow ow…”

“Let me see.” Suddenly there was a presence by him as the blond sat beside him, his fingers touching his knee. Because of the ripped jeans, it was easy to see his skin in that area. “Doesn’t look so bad, at least you didn’t break the skin. You’ll have a hell of a bruise though.” The blond raised his gaze to Saeran and he finally got to see the full view. Wow, those eyes knocked him out, was that color even natural? Maybe he was wearing amethyst-colored lenses like what he himself wore. His face was kind, a soft pink flush growing across his cheeks and bridge of his nose. It was adorable.

“Ah, that was really stupid of me. But…I’m glad you didn’t leave. We didn’t even get a chance to chat.” Saeran tried to regain his coolness but found he couldn’t seem to be bothered to try and act in front of this man. “Uh, what’s your name?”

“Yoosung. Don’t have to ask yours I guess.” He smiled, lighting up the entire room.

“Yoosung…I like it.”

“Thanks. I…uh…like you. I mean…I…your music…I…I…like your music…and…uh…I”

Saeran laughed and waved off Yoosung’s explanation.

“So you’re a fan huh? And what…a doctor?” he asked, placing his foot on the ground gently, still rubbing his knee.

“Not quite. But I am going to medical school. And yes, a BIG fan!” his eyes got large, as did his smile. “Your songs spoke to me when I was at a really low point. I don’t know, it felt like you knew what I was going through and understood my pain.” The smile faltered as his thoughts went back to those days. Saeran reached out and placed his hand on Yoosung’s, yes, he knew what it was like to be in pain, he could see it in his eyes.

Their eyes met, an understanding passing between them.

[softsebnbuckystan]

Soul ties - Part 10 (Bucky Barnes au)

“And when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed,

You put me on  and said I was your favourite”

Word count : 1712

Going back to everyone wasn't even as awkward as you'd predicted ; what had just happened with Bucky was pretty obvious. Yet, all the guests decided to cheer you up and spend their night telling you jokes or just talking to you about random memories. When you went back to your  room for good, you made sure Bucky walked you there : you were silently thanking Steve for giving you a room this far away from the others, since it gave you the opportunity to speak freely.

"So, about earlier,"  you started, "I think..."

"Hum,  yeah. I get it must be complicated for you." He scratched the back of his head as you stopped in front of your bedroom door.

"It's not, actually." You looked him in the eyes. "I know exactly what I want."

Something gleamed in his eyes – a hint of hope, maybe.

"You do?" he asked. "I don't want you to be in this situation, so..."

"I swear," — you gently grabbed the front of his shirt  – "I promise I know you're who I want." You lowered your gaze. "I'd be a fool to pretend otherwise."

Bucky tilted his head down to see you better, breathing on the tip of your nose. "This makes me...really happy." He kissed your nose, making you feel an instant warmth in your chest. "Now go get some rest. You've had an eventful night."

"You're right." You let go of him to grab the doorknob and turned around. "Wait, before I go..." You span and placed your hands on his shoulders to help you reach his height and planted a kiss on his lips again. "I really wanted to do this again."

You chuckled and left him at the door, quickly closing it behind you so that he wouldn't see you smiling like a teenager. Changing into your pyjamas, you were still unable to think about anything else than the  first kiss you'd shared and the emotion it'd gifted you with. You chose not to go to sleep right away : you knew a knock on your door would come. Around twenty minutes afterwards, you were ready to open the door to your sister right after hearing her.

"So, that happened," she said when she sat on your bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Don't you already know that?" you teased. "I thought you were supposed to be a mind-reading enchantress or something. Your skills are getting rusty, sis."

Wanda couldn't help but laugh before asking her question  again. "Seriously, I want to hear it from you, not  from your thought process. It's too much of a mess anyway."

You rolled your eyes at the skies  before sitting next to her. "It was... I don't know how to describe it." You shrugged. "It felt right."

"And what are you going to do about Darren? I heard you saying you were over, but are you actually doing it?"

You stopped to think for a moment. What would divorcing Darren concretely mean? You'd have to go through a divorce procedure, and you didn't know how those were  supposed to go. Maybe you could  ask Tony if he knew any good lawyers who might you out. But there was another thing you'd need to do.

"I'll  go get my stuff tomorrow. I'm thinking  of asking Tony if I can stay here...permanently."

You wrapped your hands around your legs and rested your chin on your knees.

"I'll go with you. I don't trust him."

"Thanks, Wanda."

Your sister hugged you tight before lying down next to you.

"I'm here for you. We're family," she noted. "Now get some sleep ; you need it."

You lay next to her and as it turned out, you fell asleep pretty fast. Maybe soulmates had that effect on people.

---

"He's not even here," you remarked. "Even after our fight last night, he doesn't bother showing up at his own apartment."

Darren's behaviour was already heating up your anger, and you were once  again patting yourself on the shoulder for refusing both Steve and  Sam's help that day. They would not have handled this by calming you down. Maybe Steve would've tried, but well, even he had his limits. Messing with his family was one of them.

Your sister followed you to your bedroom, where you dragged a suitcase from under your bed. When you opened it, Wanda's eyes lingered for a second : it wasn't empty.

"Were you packing for a trip?" she asked.

You looked away and shrugged. "I don't know if I was planning for a honeymoon or a bad fight," you admitted. "Turns out it's the latter." You kept running around the place, packing everything from your most random flannel shirt to your favourite coffee mug.

"I think I'm ready to go," you ended up saying as you closed your suitcase. "I'm- wait. Did you hear the door too?"

"Y/n?"

"Fuck." You looked at Wanda, who'd recognised Darren's voice as well. You walked out of the bedroom, your suitcase rolling behind you. Your husband's eyes fell on your luggage before going back to you. You tried searching for any trace of sadness on his face ; all you found was anger and disappointment.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "And what is she doing here?"

"Wanda's here because she wanted to help me get as far away from you as possible," you replied. "My whereabouts are none of your business anymore."

"You can't just leave like that. You're still my wife, as far as I know."

"Not for long."

Darren's face got bright red as he went in the kitchen. You knew he was about to start yelling, so you went for the door. His arm stopped you ; you hadn't seen him turn around. He grabbed your wrist, causing you to let out a faint scream. Wanda didn't need any more excuses to use her abilities.  She pinned him against the wall with a slight gesture of her hand.

"Don't you touch her again," she breathed. "You don't want me to use my full strength."

You could see Darren's nostrils flaring with anger and his fist clenching. You hated seeing him like this : some part of you still remembered the guy you'd fallen for several years earlier and you wished you could've made him stay like that.

"Don't blame  yourself for his behaviour, y/n," Wanda told you, not looking away from Darren. "Trust me, this man can't be changed. He'll always be a douchebag."

Your sister let go of him and opened the apartment's door for you. You were finally stepping out of that place, walking away from Darren.

"So what?" you heard him yell. "You're just gonna go back to that weird staring guy?"

You turned around and stared at him. You were done looking down and letting him hurt you. "Stop."

"What is it, huh?" – He walked closer to you and you gestured towards Wanda to let her know you were okay. "Is he better in better in bed than I am? Because I highly doubt that any man could make a good one out of you."

"Wow, you got to this level of insults. I shouldn't be surprised, coming from you." You paused, unsure of what his reaction would be to your next words. "I'll have divorce papers sent to you."

His jaw dropped, your words leaving him speechless. HIs insults still left a bitter taste in your mouth as you did your best to hide your pain. You didn't think such a long relationship could end like this, in a heartbeat, in the drop of a coffee cup.

Going back to the compound seemed to take less time than it took going to Darren's place. You were looking out of the window in silence, even though you knew your sister was holding back her remarks about Darren : you didn't need mind-reading powers to know that.

"Go ahead. Tell me I should've seen it coming."

"I'm not going to tell you that. Believe it or not, I wish I'd been wrong about him."

You gave Wanda a side glance : her grip on the stirring wheel was stern but her eyes were filled with sympathy.

"But I should've seen it coming. Damn, I despised his friends the moment I met them and he's just like them."

Wanda chuckled, which seemed inappropriate at first. "You didn't see that coming."

These words forced a smile out of you. "He would kick his ass, wouldn't he?"

"Absolutely. And he wouldn't be gentle about it."

You fiddled with your fingers. "Moments like these... I miss him the most."

"I know." Your sister's hand grabbed yours for a second before going back to the wheel. Her voice had gotten a little shaky from the emotion. "I also know he would've liked Bucky for you."

"Maybe. I shouldn't rush into this, though."

"Wait, what?" Wanda was confused, it seemed. How could she not be?

"Wanda, I just got out of a long relationship. I'm not even divorced yet. Bucky deserves better than this mess of a situation."

"Oh c'mon, he won't care about that. Have you seen how the man looks at you?"

A grin made its way to your lips as you remembered the numerous occasions Bucky  had laid his blue eyes on you, and yesterday, on your lips.

"I feel like I can't do this to him, you know? There are so many things I like about him, from the way he bothers pronouncing my name correctly, not the bland American way, to the habit he has of scratching his neck... You  know, dumb stuff. But what do I have to offer him? I'm not..."

"Stop. That's Darren speaking, not you," your sister softly reprimanded you. "You're worth so much more than you think you are. I also know that the guy who's going to rush to you to make sure you're okay is falling in love with you, if he hasn't already. His mind is almost as big a mess as yours."

"Wow, that's a first," you joked, the mention of love making you anxious. "The mess thing, I mean."

"Yeah, sure," — she snickered – "the mess thing."

--- They're getting serious, guys! I hope this part was good and that you liked it. Part 11 will come soon. :)

Tag list :

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02 @writehistorynotthegrocerylist @bluemoon-icecream @lady-loki-ren @simplybombshell @lizajane3

[mockinggold]

Excerpt from everyone changes (and my darling we are no exception)

“It was no secret that Shouto's family was extremely well off. Both of his parents were successful in the medical field, but Shouto considered them humble. They didn't have one of those gargantuan houses or unnecessarily expensive clothing. They got what they needed, some of what they wanted, and didn't flaunt their wealth. His mother was usually quite generous. She knew that their family had more money than they needed, so she donated to charities, tipped minimum wage workers well, was overall generous.

Even when Shouto told her that his ex-boyfriend's house burned down, she decided to help out. Shouto was friends with all of his exes except one (who can get second degree burns in hell. Not third, Shouto wanted that bitch to feel every ounce of pain, that scum doesn't deserve any scorched nerves), and even though they had been broken up, Shouto and his mother were happy to help because he was a good person and they talked and caught up with each other from time to time. Rei grew up in a third-world country, immigrating to Shouto's home country to become a doctor. Shouto doesn't remember, but his mother loved to tell Shouto about how when he was two, he walked around the courtroom with a purpose as Rei was getting her citizenship.

Shouto's father wasn't as generous as his mother was. Enji wasn't too fond of the idea of helping Shouto's ex for some weird reason that Shouto is too embarrassed to admit. His parents got into a mild argument about it and Shouto felt awkward watching it happen. They worked it out, they always did.

One day, Shouto asked his mother a question about it. "Mom," he started. "You're extremely generous with money. I understand why; we have the means to do so. Why is dad so much more conservative with money?"

"Well, it's rooted in our upbringings," she said. "When I was in Peru, my family was dirt poor. We didn't have the best furniture, the best home, but we still invited people over, because we had a lot of love to give. I wanted to have a better life for my family. A house that could meet its needs and still be filled with love.

Rei looked up at the sky as the two of them sat on the porch. The sun beginning to disappear as it painted the houses golden also caused the weather to cool down, the cooling concrete taking away heat ever so slightly from the underside of his legs. A couple of cars were parked on the side of the road. People that didn't live in the neighborhood didn't come by very often. Seeing as Shouto's neighborhood was a no outlet neighborhood, it was useless for them to do so.

Rei pointed at the cars lined up on the curb. "Back in Peru, we didn't go near parked cars," she said softly. Shouto tilted his head, waiting for her to explain. "It wasn't uncommon for cars to explode. Terrorists would rig cars and they would explode. Sometimes I would be walking with my friends and we heard a faint explosion and smoke rise. We would keep going because it was relatively common. It was a little scary, but at that point, we were used to it, we became numb to the fear."

Shouto imagined a scenario where he would be walking down the street and a car exploded because of terrorists. It would definitely make headlines all around, maybe national news depending on how many people got hurt. The thought irked him, yet his mother spoke about it so casually.

She waved her hand dismissively. "But I'm getting off-topic," she said. "Do you know how I was able to afford this home, this lifestyle?"

Shouto was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to answer, so he leaned in, waiting for an answer.

"I got lucky."

Shouto scrunched his nose, not sure if he fully agreed with his mother. "But... you worked extremely hard to get where you are."

"Yes, I worked hard, but there's so much more to it. Tell me, do you know how many people immigrate to this country a year in hopes of a better life?"

Shouto thought long and hard, not a hundred percent sure on what the correct answer was. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Millions," his mother stressed. "Millions of people come into this country, legally and illegally, in order to make a better life for themselves. They work hard, do everything they can, work for ten, twelve hours a day to make a living, get an education, work just as hard as I did. Do you know how many of those millions get in a similar position to us?"

Shouto shook his head. Rei had a weak smile on her face. "Not many," she said. "Have I ever told you the story of how I got a visa?"

Shouto shook his head, now extremely intrigued. With a soft smile, she looked to the other houses that lined the streets. "Back when I was married to my first husband, with your two half-siblings, I went to get a visa for three months here. I was going to travel across the country for different job interviews. I gave the woman the papers, she read them over, and she shook her head."

Shouto's eyes slightly widened, confused as to why they would deny him a visa. "She told me, 'No. I cannot give you a visa. You stated that your mother and sister live here. You will just stay with them after your visa expires.' And I was shocked, heartbroken, scared. I needed that visa."

Shouto leaned in even more, wanting to hear more and more of what his mother had to say. "And I looked at her, and I said, 'No, you're wrong.' I'll never forget the look of shock she had when I told her that. I said, 'I didn't have to tell you about my mother and sister. I could have lied and said I had no family here and you would have never known. I came to you an honest woman because I need these job interviews. I will not stay with my mother and sister. I have three reasons that I can't, and they are sitting in the waiting room right now. So please, may I have this visa?'"

Shouto was speechless, he wasn't sure what to say to that, knowing his mother argued her way into the country. He always knew that his mother had that type of drive, but he had no idea that something like that ever happened. "She looked at me with a confused and shocked face. She told me, 'This is highly irregular, I need to go speak to my manager'. She must have only been gone for five minutes, but those were some of the longest five minutes of my life. Finally, she came back. And she looked at me and said, 'Seventeen days. Your job interviews will span about seventeen days, that's all I'm giving you.' And she stamped my visa and handed it to me. I almost collapsed at that moment, but I got my visa. That was January 15th, 1991. Do you know what happened the next day?"

Shouto once again shook his head. "January 16th, 1991. The United States invaded Kuwait. Desert Storm. That day, all the embassies closed down for months, nobody could get visas," she said.

It made him extremely uneasy to hear about how his mother almost wasn't allowed in the country. He already knew that she was there illegally for a short amount of time. He knew that two of his sisters and his brother came to the country illegally. Because according to them, it was hard as hell to get into the country legally, it was their only option.

"So to go back to your original question," Rei said. "Our mindsets and upbringings are what makes your father and I think so much different about money. I feel like I got a lot of the money I have now by luck, making me feel like I can be generous because I was close to not having it, I know what it's like to not have it. Your father, on the other hand, grew up in a middle-class home and is now in the upper-middle class. He feels that he earned every cent of his, which makes him more hesitant to give it away. And there's nothing wrong with that. Just like political ideologies, there's nothing wrong with wanting to hold onto your finances as long as nobody is getting harmed in the process. Hard work, getting lucky, the two are polar opposites, but you'll see that in those less fortunate. They are willing to give away things to others in need because they know what it's like.

Shouto was not a huge fan of being touched, it was no secret after he had to spill a couple at the mental hospital, but one thing he loved was when his mother would ruffle his hair gently like she did when he was small. She raised her hand and hovered it towards Shouto, knowing now that he liked warning when someone was going to touch him. He scooted closer to his mother, leaning forward. With a smile, she ruffled his hair, making him feel safe.”

—————————

Anyway I just think my dad has the most swag in the world

[summahsunlight]

Worth the Risk, Part 10

Rating: Mature(18+only)

Word Count: 1581

Pairing: Army Pilot!Poe Dameron x Nurse!Reader (1940s AU)

Summary: It’s the 1940s, Army pilot and Captain Poe Dameron is flying on missions for the United States Army in Europe.  After being shot down off the coast of France, Poe wakes up in an Army hospital in England, to find you, a nurse, taking care of him. Throughout the process of his recovery, Poe finds himself falling for you, and even though you, for the most part, maintain a professional relationship with him–you’re falling for him as well. Both of you know the risks of falling in love during a war, but then again, both of you have never cared much for being cautious.

Taglist: @fanfic-addict-98​, @thescarletknight2014​, @blushingwueen​, @americasass-romanoff​, @ginger-swag-rapunzel​, @spider-starry​, @totelpoedameron, @captain-america5​, @liadamerondjarin​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​

Hello lovelies! Here is the next part. Hope you enjoy it, please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. Likes, comments, asks, and reblogs are always welcome🥰

June 7, 1944

Dear Mrs.Wexley, 

By the time you read this letter, I am sure the Army has dispatched a Chaplin to your house to inform you of Temmin’s passing. Your husband was the best friend any man could ask for and I miss him, dearly, already even though he has only been gone for a few hours. Everyone keeps telling me that I did what I could, that it was amazing I even got my plane back to the base in the first place. The fact is, I could have done more, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. You and your daughter deserved to welcome Temmin home from the war with open arms, not in a casket. I’ve been told it is not my fault but I will bare the burden of the guilt for the rest of my life, whether it ends tomorrow or ends decades from now. I only hope that you can forgive me for the loss of your husband. As his commanding officer, it was my responsibility to keep him and the others safe. I failed him, I failed you and your daughter. 

Temmin gave me a letter just before our mission to Normandy. He wanted you to have something incase he didn’t make it back. I hope that his words give you comfort during this time of grief.

With my deepest condolences,

Captain Dameron

----

Poe gripped the edge of the sink in the officer’s barracks. It had been a month since that fateful flight over Normandy, since Snap had died. There had been other flights since then, other losses, but losing the man he considered his best friend was still hitting him the hardest. 

Splashing some cold water on his cleanly shaven face, Poe reached for a towel and tried to wipe the exhaustion away. He dressed in his uniform quickly and proceeded to check on his plane. After Snap’s death, as well as the radio operator, Poe and Arana had been flying in fighter planes. Their C-47 had been badly damaged and scraped for parts. The mechanics had been awed that Poe had even managed to get the plane back to England. 

He liked flying in the fighter; it was faster, he felt more alive and free in that plane. Your picture was still taped to the panels, his constant reminder as to why he was fighting in this damn war. Poe was thankful your unit had moved to Normandy with them, even if he went days between seeing you. The Allies aggressive push into France was costly--wounded were coming in daily, some days worse than others. Which was why he was pleasantly surprised to see you standing near his fighter that morning. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Poe said, grinning at you.

“Hello, handsome,” you replied, returning his smile.

Poe felt his heart swell with love for you when the ring around your neck caught the sunlight and shimmered. You had tried to give it back to him after D-Day; he’d refused. He wanted you to have it. Once this war was over he was going to buy you a proper engagement ring and properly propose to you--asking your father’s permission and all--but for now, his mother’s wedding band having a home around your neck was enough of a promise for him. 

You caught him looking at the ring and instantly felt a blush spread across your cheeks. You knew what the ring symbolized for him--Iolo had given you a drunken history on it a few nights ago--but even before Arana’s colorful interpretation, you knew how special this ring was to Poe. It made your heart happy that he felt you were special enough to keep it. 

His hands reached for your waist and he drew you to him, placing his lips upon yours in a soft, sweet kiss. “This is a welcomed surprise this morning. I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

Gently you adjusted his uniform. “Doctor Skywalker thinks I work too hard; he wanted me to take a few hours to myself. I’ve trained my nurses well; I trust that they’ll take care of my patients.”

“I like this Doctor Skywalker way more than Doctor Hux.”

“Me too.”

“Lucky for you, I’m not scheduled for any missions today.”

“So, we can spend some time together?”

Poe took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. He laced his fingers through yours and began to lead you away from the airfield. It was very rare that both of you had free time and he wanted to make the most of it, even if it was just taking a walk down to the nearby town and grabbing some coffee. Being with you eased the pain of Snap’s passing and the guilt Poe felt surrounding his friend’s death. 

You know how hard it had been for Poe, not being able to escort Snap’s body home, to attend his funeral. His death had deeply affected him and you worried about how much more Poe would be able to take. Spending time in town helped you forget for a little while that there was a war around you. The people were grateful that the Allies had liberated them and many of them were very kind to you. Having coffee at a bistro made your life almost feel normal again.

He paid for your coffee and the muffin you wanted for breakfast; you noticed the older woman behind the counter look at him approvingly and then winked at you when Poe wasn’t looking. You laughed silently and followed him to a small table. Immediately, your senses were overtaken by the smell of freshly brewed French coffee and Poe’s spicy cologne. 

As you ate your muffin and sipped your coffee, Poe kept his free hand on your knee, gently stroking it while you talked. He loved touching you in any manner, whether it was when you were alone in your room and he was making your body sing with pleasure, or when you were out in public, where he could caress you with soft, affectionate touches. 

“Does your dad like coffee?” you asked, breaking Poe’s intense thinking.

“Kes Dameron bleeds coffee,” Poe said with a laugh.

“I can’t wait to meet him. Do you think... do you think he’ll like me?”

“He’s going to love you, darling.”

Sighing, you smiled. “I hope so.”

Poe lifted his hand from your knee and grasped your chin, pulling you towards him for a kiss. “I know he will, Y/N. How could he not love you?”

You were sure you could think up some answers, but looking at your watch you realized that you had to get back. The town doctor had been murdered by the Nazis during the occupation--you’d put some bits and pieces together as to why throughout your stay here and it always sent shivers down your spine when you thought about it. Because there was no town doctor, you and a couple of the other nurses accompanied Doctor Skywalker on visits to the townspeople that needed medical care. “I have to go--we have house calls to make.”

He frowned and looked at his own watch. “Yeah, I have a briefing with Major Antilles--Iolo will probably kill me if I’m late again.” 

“Then we don’t want you to be late.”

“You’re right; we don’t.”

Poe took you by the hand once again and led you back to base. He hated that your morning together was going to end. He walked you all the way back to the hospital, kissed you one last time like he wasn’t going to see you for days--which was a very real possibility.

Leaning into his kiss, you wished that you had more time to find a private place but there wasn’t any time. The jeep that was taking you, Doctor Skywalker, and the other two nurses to the house calls was already waiting for you. Leaving a lingering kiss on his lips, you stepped back and went to get into the jeep. 

He stood there watching it go until he could no longer see it. Poe let out a heavy sigh and turned about to go to his meeting. After all, the war wasn’t going to stop just because you wanted to spend more time together. 

-----

By mid-afternoon you had already made several visits. 

There were still a few more to go when Doctor Skywalker realized that you were not going to have enough supplies to finish the calls. You volunteered to head back to the base to get them and one of the soldiers that had come with you for protection offered to drive you back.

You had been enjoying the lovely countryside while you drove along, chatting with the young man at the wheel. He was from Brooklyn, the oldest son of six, and he missed his family. He was mid-sentence when a single shot rang out...

....blood spattered over the windshield and your face as the bullet took the driver out, killing him. The jeep served violently and tipped over into a ditch and you screamed, terrified that this was the last thing you were ever going to see.

Unimaginable pain shot through you entire body and just before you blacked out, you saw the scuffed boots of a man approaching the wrecked jeep. The final prayer you had as you slipped into unconsciousness was that this man was not the Nazi sniper coming to finish you off.

[kaz3313]

@crowleypaw (adorable username btw), @lyricwritesprose , and @why-not-go-with-style because I used this concept

Crowley was undoubtedly cool; he wore the latest clothes (though in a manner no other person would put together. That is not to say it looked bad), wore shades (even when he didn't need to), had the best car that Heaven,Hell, Earth, and the Galaxy beyond had ever seen, and he also had a certain sway to his hips he'd call swag (his angel would say 'boneless is the best term, my dear'). However sometimes Crowley was put in situations that were, to put it politely, very uncool.

 Crowley was undoubtedly Aziraphale's knight in shining armor, even if he had no intention of ever riding a horse again. This was proven countless times over the last six thousand years. Aziraphale would place himself into a tight situation (debatable whether intentional or not) and Crowley, in the nick of time, would show up to sweep his angel off his feet. This would be followed by a lovely meal, a chat about safety, and maybe even ridiculous amounts of alcohol. However, in very rare situations, Crowley is not playing the part as the savior; rather he is the damsel in loads of distress. 

 Crowley had undoubtedly left Hell. He proved to any questioning demon that his loyalties lie elsewhere when he was on team "Stop-Apocalypse" (which won, if anyone couldn't guess). Every demon in Hell and every angel in Heaven knew of the two traitors. However, Hell had a way of creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

Crowley was sitting in his chair (not his throne otherwise this whole experience might've been avoided) contemplating getting up to yell at his plants and he felt a blade press against his back. It was not any blade, judging by its sting it was forged in Hell's biggest furnace by a demon who had a knack for keeping it hot permanently. 

 "It's rude to walk in without knocking," Crowley had scarcely finished saying before the blade dug into his back. It was merely the tip but his skin blossomed a crimson streak. Not only that but the knife (what he assumes to be a knife as it seemed too small to be a sword) steady in his back burned like a fire poker. He would've loved to say he didn't even twitch in reaction to his new wound but that would be a blanket lie as he sucked in a sharp quick breath.

Crowley had always been quick to come up with plans but this moment his mind just raced into broken thoughts. Panic easily confused imagination and fear made too many second guesses for any reckless plan that snuck out to pass.So his thoughts frayed further and further the more he realized that things were going downhill fast.

 "I heard you were supposed to be a clever traitor, even had Lord of the Flies tricked, but really? Sitting with your back to the door? Rookie Demon mistake," The Demon, which Crowley doesn't recognize, sneered. "And mistakes are always exploited to the fullest," With that the knife was plunged further in and Crowley let out more than a sharp breath.

Aziraphale hardly ever showed up to Crowley's but for some ineffable reason he felt the need to walk there. He tried to, at first, blame it on the good weather but it had begun to rain. He then tried to reason it was because of the bad weather but, as that made little sense, he found it easier just to say naught. And no matter what would he admit that the thought of 'something is going to go terribly wrong' crept into his mind.

Not until he walked into the flat and heard a scream slice the silence like a steak knife cutting cheese.

 Aziraphale rushed into the room not a second thought that the only weapon to his name he'd given away centuries ago. His vision turned scarlet as he saw the situation at hand.

 He hardly would use wrath to describe his usual behavior, out of the sins he had to admit gluttony suited him far more (though he'd also argue that none of the seven applied to him or Crowley and furthermore they were all highly misunderstood), but he'd make an exception at this moment. Eyes that had not been opened since his last battle viewed the minimalistic flat around them. They took in the tiny details, like the auras and the atoms, as well as the bigger ones, the demon with a knife jammed into his back and the assumed culprit whom was laughing something wicked. His eyes landed back to his demon and softened just for a moment. 

He then saw the pool of blood that had formed on the chair and the wrath flared up once more.

 Aziraphale gripped the item tighter in his hand, an umbrella still damp from the storm outside, and held it akin to how one would wield a sword. In a millisecond flames licked his finger tips but never once pained him. 

The demon must've felt the presence, or the sudden heat, and glanced behind him. He stiffened, his laughter died in his throat, and his eyes grew wide, even watering slightly.

 "I-I," He backed away but Aziraphale, quicker then one could process seeing, had already gotten over to him, the flames just brushing against his neck. The Principality said nothing using voice but the demon retreated, letting himself sink through the ground, without hesitation.

 "And don't come back," Aziraphale said to the floor with all the venom he could muster but soon let himself relax his shoulders.

Fighting completely avoided, at least for now. 

He approached Crowley and his heart twisted. He hadn't moved from the chair nor reached to attempt to remove the dagger. Instead he sat, trembling, with his sunglasses fallen to the bridge of his nose and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

 "My dear boy," Aziraphale said and the flame in his hand softened. The fire no longer licked the air with rage but rather love filled it's warmth.

 "Oh, angel," Crowley's voice cracked and he could feel shame rise to his cheeks. How would his angel react to him so...vulnerable? He didn't dare open his eyes.

"I think, I was good at playing the, err, James Bond guy you like so much? Coming in at the last minute," In spite of everything, and because Crowley hadn't made any snide remark yet, Aziraphale tried to add lightheartedness to the atmosphere.

Instead of replying in a similar tone Crowley nodded his head and gave a small pathetic whimper. A whimper that took ahold of him and transformed into a sob.

 Aziraphale was there, the umbrella which was aflame but had yet to burn anything by his side in case of more intruders, sitting near and carefully tended to Crowley's needs.

A true gentleman knight.

[seven-oomen]

Hi, Ben!  Hope your baking is going/went well!  (Looking at the picture they may be a type of either shortbread or sugar cookie?)  I am not baking cookies this year because I don’t know how safe it would be to share them, and I don’t need a whole batch of them here to eat myself.

Mainly just wanted to share an amusing thought I had while wrapping gifts for Christmas at my parent’s, and it was a little long for an ask.  So, on the subject of the whole “Your son calls me Daddy, too” shirt, I was picturing a universe where the fire either doesn’t happen, or causes more property damage than loss of life, and all three of them and up with one (gifts from Claudia, perhaps? XD ) And typically Chris and Noah only wear theirs around Gerard and Elias, to be obnoxious, but one day they’re accidentally wearing them when John drops by, and for a moment they’re sort of super embarrassed, because they actually like and respect John, but he just laughs and asks “So does he behave any better for you two, then?” and they get the unexpected gift of seeing Peter turn about a thousand shades of red as he’s struck absolutely momentarily speechless.

Anyway, just wanted to share that image.  Hope your day is going well and Mo is digging his new swag.  Take care!  *Hugs!*

I think they are more like sugar cookies from what I can tell, Baking went pretty well even though I only baked half a batch because that alone gave me like 30+ cookies and I kinda have to eat them all myself, whoops XD

Hope you’re having a great time at your parents <3 (or if it’s a rough time for you I’m giving you all the good vibes to hopefully get through it ❤)

And omg I can see that happening in the Final Masquerade verse though XD Or even the Grimm verse where John survives the fire. 

John is just super amused by their antics and you’d know he’d probably gift them mugs to go with the shirts for their birthdays. “Maybe he’ll start listening and behaving if he’s constantly reminded of it.” He knows there is no chance in hell that Peter will behave. But hey, he’s not gonna complain much since Peter gave him the most grandchildren. (And on a painful note) is also the last child he has left. So anything Peter wants, John will make happen. Same goes for Noah and Chris because those are his boys too.

And if he can joke around and see all three of them stumble and embarrassed? Hey, then he’s done his job as a father.

Oooh now I want to write a What if short for OUAT. What if John survived the fire. What if he, with Cora, were the only two survivors pulled from the smoke and the flames, because an anonymous tip came in about the fire and people got there ‘on time’. What if John screamed and cried as he was pulled away from his dying son (Peter) and his dead grandchildren (Aaron, Leo, Kristy) and then had to completely readjust as his pack was left decimated, Peter and Cora in the hospital, and Laura and Derek now under his care.

Ooooh I made myself sad... oh my god. How different would OUAT have been? Ooh I should write a parallel or one shot for that. Similar/the same universe in a what if setting. Oh my god that’s brilliant!

Damn... I was already bawling because of these dog movies. (The bawls are amazing, so therapeutic to just cry) But damn.

Anyway, on a lighter note, Mo loves the Bow tie! He doesn’t mind wearing it too much, it doesn’t seem to bother him. It’s on a breakaway collar so safe too. The only downside is that the tie has a tendency to move to the back or to the side, but he seems to like that better and it still looks adorable. So, if he’s happy, I’m happy.

On a happier note, I found a new binder! One made in the Netherlands by a reputable company run by trans people and one that’s completely adjustable and thus suitable as  a post surgery vest as well. I’m so stoked! Thank you grandma for that Christmas money! <3

Anyway, I wanted to share my enthusiasm. I hope you’re having a good evening and after a short nap I will try and write some. Hopefully I can leave a bit of a Christmas miracle tonight ^^.

Take care and hugs from me and Mo!

[skyeyaga]

Sweatshop Worker POV

My eyes flutter open. The first thing I see are the numbers on the wall and I rub my eyes to focus more on the numbers and hands - it points at the number five. Outside the window that is on my right, the light peeks through the clouds outside. Now I better get ready for a new tough, tormenting, troubling day because of the countless mistakes I make. Swinging my legs out from under my thin blanket, my toes make contact with the cold, crisp, cool floor and it sends shivers down my spine. As I fully step on the floor, a creaking sound is caused. My eyes dash to my roommates and one or two of them yawn and rub their eyes while the others stay asleep. I rapidly ran into the filthy, grimy, messy room because I need to clean myself up for the day (this is the only reason I wake up before everyone, so I have this all to myself.) The water from the sink sprays on my face and I look in the mirror, the girl in the mirror jabs me with hollow eyes to begin the day.

Each foot lightly touches the ground, the footsteps that were once clear quickly fade. The tapping echoes in my head while I think. There was a time when I was happy and joyful. There was a time when I was surrounded by love - I could almost hear the words: “Aku cint akamu.*” There was a time when I was not here. Wide smiles float through my head, gleeful giggling tantalises my memory. My parents’ gentle and kind faces flash around in my head. A clap of thunder crashes the shores of my happiness and like a storm it darkens. My fourteenth birthday was the worst day of my life, all I can remember is my father’s snow white face lying under a blanket, his raspy exhales and the rivers flowing down the sides of his face, that gave me goosebumps. We didn’t have enough, I turned to this place to do it all for him and I can’t imagine him leaving - I have to keep him here and I will do whatever it takes but it’s been about two years since that happened. Walking past a window, I see a bedraggled girl. She stares back. A gasp escapes my mouth. She’s me. She looks awful. My eyes lay on my once chestnut glowing skin, it’s covered with thick layers of dust and dirt. My long lustrous thick auburn hair is now ruined; short and straggly, strands falling out. My hazel eyes, they don’t have the shine they used to have. I brush my hands over my large and baggy pants, my finger gets caught in one of the many holes. I glimpse at a blood stain and wonder if it’s mine. I wander on ahead, trying to forget that this ever happened. 

A long line forms behind a door, each person carrying the same sort of item. We all know the punishment if one does not bring it. A loud shriek echoes across the room and no one even dares to look at the awful sight but truly, it is their own fault. When I walk through the door, I look around me and all I smell is the foul, repugnant stench of smoke. Walking to my station, getting lost in my thoughts, ‘I know this is hard but you need to do this for your family. It’ll all be worth it in the end.’ I keep telling myself the same thing. Slowly sitting down at my desk, feeling empty inside, as empty as a politician’s promise to hard-working people. In this case, as empty as my boss’s promise but at least I am getting money, this is the reason why I’m here - isn’t it?  As I gently press the foot pedal, I watch the needle going up and down creating a charcoal black tick, it reminds me of evil thoughts and at that moment I glance over to look at my boss who is peeking over my shoulder and I try to hide the little smile of satisfaction. The once-loud footsteps become quieter and more muted. I sit for so long that sweat makes my bottom stick to my seat like gum at the bottom of a shoe. Once I finish I will get rewarded greatly - hopefully. Then I hear footsteps that get louder and then he appears again. He puts his dirty, muddy hands all over my hard work, wiping his disgusting hands across them. I stare at him, frustrated. ‘This is not fair, I worked hard on this and this is how he repays me?!’ Without any further thinking, I pull his hairy, chunky hands under the needle. A long yelping sound goes on longer than a whale song. Panting, he glares at me with his blood boiling. Always know the consequences of your own actions.

I entered hell. As each hit causes more pain, the world becomes extra blurry, or maybe it’s just my eyes. As a result, my mouth spews red liquid. A man hits me on my head finding it more satisfying hitting my hollow head. My hands swollen, my mouth numb and my head cracked. ‘I need the money, I can’t do the same thing again. I need the money, this is worth it.’ I scold myself in my head. Subsequently, a large and heavy foot steps on my hand, squishing it like a bug. Something hits my head again and all is black. When I wake up, the first thing I see is an old man sitting down at a polished wooden desk. His face is as wrinkly as a scrunched up piece of unwanted paper. I notice that he’s dressed quite nicely and he is wearing a light gray suit with a bright red tie so clearly he’s someone important. My eyes dash around the bright red room, (probably there to cover the blood). A young man standing next to the good-looking elderly man in the chair says, “Bill, she is awake now.” Bill, I recognise that name and then one of my roommates’ voices enters my head. “I hate Bill, he’s the one who owns this company and he abuses us when we make a mistake. But we have to work harder if we want to succeed in life.” She would talk about this Bill everyday and now here I am face to face with him. I look at him, he knows what he has done. He is responsible for the suffering of the workers. While I’m staring at him pictures flash in my head, the blood on workers’ hands, the bruises, the suffering- at such a young age too. His face would always be there, watching us die. Us faking to inspectors, telling lies and more lies causing the weight on our shoulders to grow bigger. He was there to make sure that everything goes smoothly. The empty threats we receive in return for our hard work and us being unable to take care of our own families because of the measly wages we earn. A harsh growl ripping from someone’s throat is heard, ‘who is making this sound?’ I then realize it is from me and I sound as fierce as a dog when there is a trespasser on their property. My face softens after some more thinking, the truth is this that coming here was our choice. We all came here for a reason just like I came here for my father. I cannot lose this, this is all I have...  He just laughs to himself, “you amuse me, miss. But now you must pay.” The room darkens and there was a thunder clap. “Absolutely not, I am not sorry for anything. Rather than me, it should be you. You know what you did.” I replied simply and coolly, I sounded like a swag person who doesn’t show their feelings. Next thing I know, all is black. Again.

I wake up in bed, groaning sounds comes out of me. Automatically, my stick thin fingers that are as thin as an empty apology appear next to my temple. A deep rose color that is as red as a freshly picked strawberry coats the tips of my fingers, ‘not again!’ I scream in my head. I throw the material over my head, gazing at the coins next to me on a side table. It is barely enough for me to even buy food! Suddenly I become more aware that I got lower than I normally get. This must be the punishment. There is nothing worth living for anymore, I feel like I am dying everyday. I’ve climbed up so far up a mountain only to fall right back again. My parents enter my head, I’ve got to do this for them. Once again I am sitting and watching the needle go up and down, I could almost smell the stench of failure. That’s me.

* “Aku cinta kamu” means “I love you” in Idonesian.

[sabaku-no-livna]

Is your oc a Mary Sue ?

Okay I created this test back in 2016 on the french fandom, for the french fandom but its still so funny so if you want to try that test, please do. Don’t take it bad if your oc has several points doesn't make her Mary Sue and again these are only the clichés I noted, doesn't mean I got the absolute science on how to make a good OC and that my OCs does not correspond to these clichés or arn’t Mary Sues. Beware this test is full of sarcasm and second degree. Anyways ! Enjoy !

I. The design  of the OC  For your OC to be shitty, appearance is primordial. Therefor, I made you a list of clichés that you can try to cumulate to create a perfect Mary Sue. Are you ready ? At the end we’ll count the M.S points of our own Oc.  ღ Spiky hair, must be long, more likely black, red, yellow, with two colors that MUST be extra saturated ! You can take your favorite color if you want, it will work. Why thinking further ? xD  If you put two colors, make sure they clash with each other. Your hair style must be edgy, emo, so 2012 fashion with some bangs in front of the eye, nothing original please. Its weird to be original. AND WE DON’T WANT THAT. 

ღ  Piercings and tattoos are SWAG. But not any piercings or tattoo ! The labret is swag, the septum is swag, the eyebrow is swag, the belly button is swag but NEVER on the nostril its’s a golden rule of swag. Sorry. Have you ever seen an oc with a piercing in the nostril ? Nope, then don’t do that. Don’t try to invent new things. Originality is weird. 

ღ  About the body type, you got to stick to the canons : Huge breasts, large hips and butt, narrow waist (so narrow you don’t know how she can possibly bear her own weight). 

ღ If you REALLY don’t have any design ideas it doesn't matter. Make a gender-bend of Naruto or Sasuke. IT WORKS. 

II. The back story of your OC

For your OC to fit in the story like some shit falling on top of carbonara pastas, your backstory must be as CHEATED as possible. It must affect the main manager plot a maximum, just to enhance your oc. NEVER FORGET IT : Your OC is the center of the world. 

ღ Lets start by the beginning. For the name of your OC take some name that sounds Japanese. You can even invent one, as long as it sounds Japanese its perfect. To do so, insert some “ki” “ko” “su” “shi” “mi” et you got a name ! 

ღ Here is one of the supreme principle : Your OC is the most gorgeous, intelligent and strong. Its legit ALL THE MEN IN THE PLANET are desperately in love with her. 

ღ Your OC must be paired, or have had an affair, with at least one of the canon characters (better if its a main one) of the anime. Leave Shoji and and all the other Rock Lees for the ugly ones, YOU got Sasuke and Naruto waiting for you in your bed. So here’s a list of decent crush for a Goddess like your OC : 

Sasuke, Itachi, Naruto, Kakashi, Neji, Gaara, Madara, Deidara. Others are for the ugly ones. Don’t touch it, may have diseases ... :/ 

ღ  As your OC is the strongest, she must have super badass jutsus and have a chakra of ALL TYPES AT A TIME, she must master ALL the technics, and the must is her having an demon within. If possible a demon with tails (we don’t know why it wasn't mentioned in the manga but WHO CARES ?) that would be stronger than all the canon demons combined ! OR she can cumulate all the demons. Another SWAG thing is to have special pupils. If you don’t have the creativity to invent some, just use the sharingan/byakugan, or directly the rinnegan. OR you can cumulate them. Do like Sasuke ! This guys was clever. He knows the secret of success. 

ღ  Your OC must FUCK the game, so don’t hesitate to make her a princess, a vampire, a Rage, or even a Goddess. SHE IS TOO HOT TO BE HUMAN. Regular shinnobis are for people with no ambitions. 

ღ When you have to describe her personality always indicate this : “sweet, shy, friendly, cold, mysterious, choleric, courageous.” How is it totally paradoxal ? WHO CARES ? It doesn't have to be accurate in your character in her story anyways, that’s just for the presentations. For your OC to be really obnoxious she has to have a shitty personality. She has to clash every canon characters, be a burden for everyone else, OR, the opposite, a fuckin’ Deus Ex Machina ! Your girl she would have kicked Madara’s emo ass in a sec ! 

ღ  Her relationships with the canon characters are VERY IMPORTANT. Try the hidden blood binding. It’s SOOO original. Incest is not to provide, we all love what’s forbidden by the law and morals ! But always use main characters first, and don’t hesitate to put your character in a canon team, even if you have to kick off Sakura to do so (after all who cares for her ?). And for secondary but popular characters such as Itachi, Gaara and Neji ... Well as long as they are canons and popular ! Its better if they are in the Akatsuki or Kages though ! The best thing would be to be the hidden maleficent twin of Sasuke and have an affair with him OR Naruto’s genderbend paired with Itachi. The really SWAG clans you can put your OC into if you got no creativity to create an over powered shitty clan are : Uchiha, Uzumaki, Namikaze and Otsutsuki, and Hyuga only if there is no more room in the previous I quoted. 

ღ  Your OC must have a tragical backstory, horrible and complicated, incoherent or completely empty and lacking of depth cumulating all the best clichés of the fandom. 

In the first case your OC is broken by her past traumatic experiences, which gives her a dark side, a madness within, an emo vibe. She must be complaining all the time about her misunderstood pain. 

In the second case, your OC must be cheesy, always smiling and enthusiastic for no reason, and be a little stupid. Okay VERY stupid. But well ! She has big tits at least ! So its fine. Her biggest trauma must not exceed in terms of violence her little brother finishing the Nutella. 

ღ  Or, you can also try having a SUPER weak OC. Because with Mary Sues you are either TOO strong or TOO weak. No nuance please. It would make your character too credible. AND WE DON’T WANT THAT. Your OC must be rejected by everyone, hated and underrated (#victimlol) only her One True Love will see the light behind her shaggy hair. 

ღ If you are a bit CrAzY you can invent a country where she’ll be on top, but the best is for her to come from Konoha. Stay on the right track. 

I think I gave you all the best tips I had to make an OC perfectly obnoxious. ♥ To illustrate my own sayings, let me introduce you, my own Mary Sue : 

Suskiki Uchiha ! 

Name : Suskiki Uchiha

Age : Immortal 

Team : 7 (who cares about Sakura anyways ? Lol) Family : parents : Fugaku and Mikoto Uchiha / big brother : Itachi / twin brother : Sasuke / cousin : Naruto (yes its possible) Personality : Has big boobs Love interests : Sasuke, Naruto, Itachi, Gaara, Deidara, Suigetsu, Kakashi, Peter Pan, Edward Cullen and Jon Snow Story : Suskiki is the hidden sister of Sasuke. Not so hidden bc she is in team 7.  For real she is the princess vampire of and has the power of emo. Her childhood was so terrible you cant imagine. What was it ? Idk you cant imagine i said ! She supports Naruto since childhood bc they were both rejected. Why ? Bc she was too beautiful duh ! She has in her the demon Nyan cat dragon of darkness the most powerful of all ! She has both sharingan and byakugan for no reason (maybe her mom had an affair ?).  NOW LETS TRY THIS QUIZZ : 

Does your OC have : 

1)  Spiky or flashy hair ? 2)  Piercings/tattoos ? 3) Big breasts ?  4) Is she the female equivalent (physically) of a canon character ? 5) Was her name picked randomly because it sounded Japanese  ? 6) Are several canon characters into her ? (3 and more is yes).  7) Is she paired with one of the decent canons quoted before ?  8) Has she got a demon ? 9) Has she got special pupils ? Is she from a SWAG clan ? (if not you suck) 10) Does she have a special statut ? (princess, vampire, kage ...) 11) Is she “ “sweet, shy, friendly, cold, mysterious, choleric, courageous.”  at the same time ?  12) Does she have any blood binding with one of the canon characters ? Marriage doesn’t work.  13) Incestuous with one of the canons ? 14) Is she part of one of the main teams of the Naruto gen ? 15) Has she got a tragic back story ? 16) Is she bad at everything/super powerful ? 17) Was she rejected ?   18) Does she come from Konoha ? 19) Does she look like the  character she is paired with ?  20) Was she part of the Akatsuki or did she join Orochimaru ? 

So now you can count your points and it will give you a grade over 20. The closer you are to 20 the most Mary Suish your OC is. I personally tested it on Yukiko she got : 6 points. And you what is your score ? ;)

[lovemesomesurveys]

Are the shows you watch embarrassing? Not to me. Would you ever get plastic surgery? Nah, unless it was for reconstructive purposes. Which I might need at some point for something I’m dealing with. Do you take cosmo sex tips seriously? I used to read some of the articles in Cosmo for fun, but nah.  Would you ever date a mexican? Yeah? Are you a diet coke addict? No.

How do you take your whiskey? I don’t. Do you chew on your ice cubes? Nooo. My teeth are sensitive. Also, other people eating ice makes me CRINGE. Even just ice hitting against a glass. I’m not a big ice person if you couldn’t tell, ha. Like, I don’t use it at all at home. Do you honestly consider yourself attractive? Nope. You’re having twins. What’s your first reaction? I’m not having kids at all. What do you associate with the number 10? Nothing. Have you ever felt like a stalker? I suppose sometimes when I creep through people's Facebooks lol. <<< Lol, I’m guilty of this. Do you have a smokers’ cough? Nope. I don’t smoke, never have. Is your hair naturally curly? It’s not curly, but it is wavy. Have you ever written a word down, then realized it looked really weird? Yeah. Sometimes I second guess that I spelled it right. Do you have a best friend named Sam? Nope. I don’t even know any Sam’s.  How often do you skip class? It happened sometimes in college, but I always made sure to keep up with the work and reading assignments, which were given in the syllabus so I knew what was going on in class that day. I’ve asked people for their notes, too. Some of my classes had mini quizzes each class, so I really avoided missing those. I just did that on days I really wasn’t feeling well, but some days I just didn’t want to go and if it was a day not much was going on I was like, mehhh. :X I didn’t make a habit of it, though. I had classmates that only came on exam days and I was just like, “how???” Do you text smiley faces a lot? Not a lot, but sometimes.  Do you even like texting? I prefer it to talking on the phone that’s sure. I’m not a big texter, though. Have you ever been on anti depressants? Yes.  How has your week been? Eh, just a typical week in the life of me. Do you like dates? I mean, depends on how the date went. Have you ever starved yourself? No. Do you got swag? Nope. Do you like the old 90210 or the new one better? I’ve seen like bits and pieces of the old one before, but I never really watched it or got into it. I don’t care at all about the reboot. How do your nails look right now? Lookin’ very short and ew. Have you ever been in detention? No. Are you rude to police officers? No. Do you know any of them by name? No. Do you wear black to look skinnier? No, I just like it. What was/is high school like for you? It was okay overall looking back. It had its ups and downs, some parts were rough, but I survived.

Do you look good naked? No. What should you be doing right now? Nothing. Have you ever been in rehab? No. Do you have any true friends? I have my family. When’s the last time you had a really amazing kiss? Yearsss ago. Have you ever drank cough syrup to get high? No. Are you failing school? I am. I’m done with school. Do you feel like a failure? I do. I am a failure. Do you like the band Say Anything? I liked some of their stuff. I haven’t listened to them since like high school, though. Do you want a boyfriend/girlfriend? Sometimes I do. Will you ever admit that? I just did. What prescriptions do you have? Pain medication and an anti-depressant, but I stopped taking that one last year. :/ Have you ever been told you look like a chipmunk? No. What does your record look like? What record? Do you own any cool socks? Sure. Have you ever been so obsessed with a book that you read it while walking? It would be very difficult for me to read and wheel at the same time. Do you look good in yellow? I don’t think I look good in anything, but I like the color. Did your first love love you back? Nope. What’s the stupidest name you’ve ever given a pet? I don’t think their names were/are stupid. Do you have a dumb stoner laugh? No. Do you have nice legs? No. Do you have scars on your wrists? No. How about anywhere else? Yeah. Do you wear tube socks? Nope. Is Matt Damon sexy? Nah, not to me. Are you self conscious about your shoulders in halter tops? I’m self-conscious about anything sleeveless, but yeah you’d never, ever catch me in a halter top, especially.  Are you a fast typer? Yes. Would you ever live in Beverly Hills? No, but I’d down to visit and check it out. Are you good at being mean? No. I don’t try to be mean. Have you ever blacked out from being so drunk? No, but I’ve gotten sick. A few times. :/ Ugh, I do miss that. Do you like clubs? No. I was never into the club or bar scene. How old were you when you had your first drink? 21. I was a goody-goody. Would you ever marry someone named Frank? I don’t plan on marrying anyone, regardless of their name. I have no problem dating a Frank, though. I don’t why that would matter.

Do you like fedoras? No.

Do you drink vodka straight? I did shots sometimes and vodka tonics. I used to like vodka and Redbulls. BLECH. I don’t know how I did that. Have you ever gotten a migraine? No, but I get really bad tension headaches. Have you ever screamed at someone so hard your face turned red? No. Was your senior prom romantic? No. Do you look presentable right now? No. Have you ever been the wallflower at a party? I’m always the wallflower. Have you ever had your ass grabbed? Yeah. Do you post things on facebook that are personal? No.

[messmertheimpaler]

jules and graham cracker + one of your new ships i don't know (Yet) 👀

it’s time to ride the clown train choo choo!

jules + crispy graham cracker:

who hogs the duvet: Jules…. she thinks he doesn’t need it since he’s…. you know. Plus she gets cold easily. who texts/rings to check how their day is going: We’ll pretend they have phones in this, but Jules would constantly texting/calling the mormon to ask how his day’s going even though she already texted him ten minutes ago. who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts: Jules finds things for the crispy man every time she’s out, it’s to the point his cave is littered with gifts. He’d just give her a .45 and a bible, probably. who gets up first in the morning: The man from Zion will be the first one up, the pain from the burns already keeps him from sleeping peacefully so once there’s light out, he’ll get up and change his bandages. who suggests new things in bed: Oh for sure Jules, she’s read old magazines, and been given tips by Cass about things to try out. who cries at movies: Jules. She’s already an emotional person to begin with, so any romantic or sad movie she’ll be tearing up. who gives unprompted massages: I wanted to say Jules, but what with the cracker being too crispy it might hurt him so… he’d give her the massages, considering all the traveling she does. who fusses over the other when they’re sick: The man with the swag patch for sure. Jules promises she’ll be fine, but he’s giving her a lecture from the bible about being sick I guess, so she’s like ooookay, but she secretly likes it when he’s being doting to her. who gets jealous easiest: the former legate. he won’t show it, but he’ll be quiet when Jules is talking about how nice Daniel is. who has the most embarrassing taste in music: J Man. he probably listens to gospel music ughhwho collects something unusual: Jules likes collecting anything shiny, even if it’s junk. who takes the longest to get ready: burned man, just because of having to change his bandages to keep from getting infections. jules helps him when she’s around.who is the most tidy and organised: the malpais legate. he likes to keep everything in order, have you seen the animation of him with the .45s? very organized. who gets most excited about the holidays: jules!!! she celebrates them all and goes all out with Christmas and Halloween. who is the big spoon/little spoon: They take turns, but preferably Jules is the little spoon 99% of the time. who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports: Jules LMAO. she’ll get passive aggressive the longer the game goes and she’s still losing. who starts the most arguments: jules, but it’s usually if she takes things the wrong way and get annoyed. who suggests that they buy a pet: jules… she wants a baby deathclaw but the baby blue eyed man won’t let her. what couple traditions they have: assembling .45s. jk jk. jules likes to be at the campfire with him while he reads. they do it like every other day… they’re so boring. what tv shows they watch together: there’s no tvs, but i’m sure jules would force mummy man to watch movies from the 60s. what other couple they hang out with: no one.. except daniel…?how they spend time together as a couple: her teaching the guy who survived being burned alive how to cook. who made the first move: jules!! they were alone in his cave and she was high and told him she thought he was very sweet and kept giggling. she got very bold and told him that she felt something between them and he didn’t deny it, but he was like “you’re high” and she was like “but it doesn’t change the fact that i wanna kiss you.” so she did and it all went uphill for them. who brings flowers home: jules. she’ll bring them to spice up his ugly cave.who is the best cook: jules…. j money is still learning.

[foxjasminnie]

Fated Blood Chapter 4

Fated Blood Chapter 4

Gif credit to it's creator

A/N Thank you to all of you who are still interested in this story! It's nice to see comments occasionally ^^ I’m trying my hardest to find its direction....It’s been too long since i’ve written stories. 

Pairing: Reader x Yanjun

Previous

Next

Themes: Fantasy , Love, Maybe smut later on

“Hey, i’m sorry but i really gotta go now. I have some business at home.” She placed her phone back into her pocket and stood up.

“But the fun was just getting started princess...” Yanjun Pouted. He didn’t want Xukun stealing her from him again. That pissed him off more than anything, that it was him. 

“Better luck next time.” Y/N  winked.

“So you admit there is going to be a next time.” He smirked. “Guess you will be tired until then, because you will be running through my head everyday.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and helped Yanjun pack up. He then took a hold of her hand once more and quickly lead them back to her house. She wasn’t sure what  shook her brain more, the fast pace at which vampires move. Or the fact he knew where she lived. Just as she started to proceed to her door, Yanjun grabbed her hand and pulled y/n back into his embrace and left a gentle kiss upon her pink lips and then her forehead.

“Thanks for the treats princess. Your the sweetest thing i will ever taste.” Yanjun laughed as she pushed him away.

“Have fun keeping yourself entertained for the next million years.” she laughed.

“I have a feeling we will be seeing each other sooner than expected.”  He smirked

“Whatever stalker”

“Bye Princess” He winked.

Xukun had opened the door just as Yanjun kissed her and he couldn’t of been happier that he saw the display.  Xukun hissed towards him before watching Y/n leave his arms.  Yanjun smirked at his reaction, until he saw Y/n’s face light up at seeing Xukun as she turned around and headed to the door. He watched her happily skip up the pathway and into his arms as Xukun held her close to him. Yanjun’s stomach began to boil with anger again. Why can’t he have that smile. Why does she not act like that for him. Not wanting to start a fight yet he turned around and left the two there. 

“So Yanjun is more important than waiting for me to finish practice?” He laughed to cover up his pain.

“Hey! i ditched him the minute you texted me! He was my student today, that’s all.” She smiled pushing past him and into the entrance way.

“So... where’s my gift?” Y/n eyes lit up.

“Not so fast, you have a promise to uphold first.” He laughed.

She looked confused at Xukun; as the sudden appearance of two young males came into view and it all clicked together. One of them, dressed in a bundle of hip hop swag was her brother Justin. The latter she didn’t recognize. Y/n assumed it must of been Justin’ friend who was permanently glued to his side. He was a tall boy, with a dark red short haircut,which complimented his doe brown eyes. He was decked in blacked skinny jeans and a over sized red tarten shirt with a  white beater underneath. He was extremely eye pleasing. Justin ran to hug his sister as his friend stood nervously beside him. She was confused as to why he seemed so nervous, she wouldn’t bite; and hes a vampire where was all his confidence? Any other male that good looking would of been exaulting confidence. She noticed him swinging a white carrier bag behind his back as he stared down at the floor. 

“Jie Jie, this is the friend i told you about!” Justin’s smile was beaming at her mischievously.

“Hello, I’m Y/n. Thanks for hanging out with this idiot over here.” She smiled sweetly.

The young male seemed flustered at her greeting. HE took a deep breath before taking a hold of y/n’s hand and placing a kiss on top of it. He then opened his mouth to speak but it came out more in a stutter that she had to put together,

“H...H.ello.. I’m ..F..F..Fang Cheng Cheng.”

He had such a innocent smile on his face that she couldn’t help but find him adorable. Xukun laughed and rubbed both Justin’s and Cheng Cheng’s heads, due to him unable to resist the cuteness in front of him. Cheng Cheng pulled the carrier bag out from behind his back and smiled again.

“I brought some snacks, i thought we could share them.”  he avoided her gaze. 

“You should feel lucky Y/n. Cheng never shares his snacks.” Xukun laughed,

“Yeah he loves snacks more than you, he nearly bit me once for trying to take a crisp.” 

Justin laughed causing Cheng Cheng to hide his face in his hands. 

“Impossible.” she smirked

“Wanna bet?” 

He raised his eyes to hers and smirked. She could of sworn her heart just skipped a beat. Justin looked back and forth between the two of them proud of himself.

“Your on!”

Y/N and Cheng Cheng raced to the front room to begin tackling the snacks and play a video game tournament; with Justin following slowly behind. Xukun sighed as he pulled two  small jewelry boxes out from his jean pockets and twirled them in his fingers.He then stood there thinking about what he should do, unsure whether or not the time was right. He couldn’t shake the thoughts of Yanjun’s lips upon hers. Those lips belonged to him alone. He hadn’t loved anyone else apart from her since they met.  He started to imagine just what they got up to in that dance class. Xukun could picture Yanjun running his hands up and down her slender body as they danced.  He could picture Yanjun getting close to her trying to put his venomous fangs into her porcelain skin, trying to corrupt her more. He thought about how hurt she was when Ziyang broke her heart and he vowed he would never see that happen again. No vampire would corrupt his precious flower. Especially Lin Yanjun. He quickly dismissed the thought from his mind and went to follow the others. 

He found them all crowded around the playstation. 3 bags of crisps already demolished with the gummy snakes soon to follow.  Y/n and Cheng Cheng were having an intense mortal kombat battle. Justin was cheering for both sides wary that if he didn’t support his sister she would beat him up. But secretly he would jump up and down on the sofa whenever Cheng Cheng was winning. Justin and Xukun had never seen this side to Y/n before. Justin thought she had never played a game in her life with how often she scolded him for spending his time attached to the screen. 

After 20 fierce rounds Y’n admitted defeat and Cheng Cheng stood up hugging Justin as they span round in a circle.  Y/n smiled and looked up to the young boys face.

“Fine you win, what’s your wish.”

“You’ll really grant it?” Cheng Chengs eyes popped wide open.

“I don’t go back on my word Cheng Cheng.”

“Can..Can  i have 2 kisses?” He hid his face in the palms of his hands again. If he could blush he would.

“Ok”

Conveniently at this time Justin and Xukun had gone to get more snacks as the two of them demanded there be more. So Y/n didn’t have any prying eyes watching her.  Cheng Cheng’s eyes darted all around the place as Y/n Walked towards him. She stepped on her tip toes to reach the young boys face and planted one kiss gently on his cheek. Cheng Cheng’s smile grew and he started to shake his head in joy. Y/n found his reaction charming and decided to see what would happen when it was off guard. Before he had a chance to gather his thoughts Y/n kissed him quickly on his lips. She had to admit he had soft lips with a hint of cherry. 

At this exact moment of her lips leaving his Justin and Xukun returned to see Cheng Cheng fainting falling backwards; in which Justin raced to catch him. However he was too late and he had just crashed to the floor. Justin stared in shock as Y/n shrugged her shoulders. Xukun then wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her back into his body and resting his head upon her shoulder. He didn’t want to admit he was jealous that even Cheng Cheng had gotten to try her lips before he did.  Justin opened a packet of flaming hot cheetos and waved it around in front of Cheng Chengs nose. Instantly the young male sat up and started placing them into his mouth.

“That was amazing.” His eyes had glazed over in a dream like state.

“Jie Jie, what did you do to him?” Justin waved his hands frantically over the boys face.

“Only what he asked for.” She smirked.

Xukun started to hug y/n tighter unconsciously as she smirked. Unaware of the strength he was putting on her.

“Kun.....Kun...can’t...breathe.” Y/N arms were flailing around.

Snapping back into reality, he instantly let go embarrassed and turned around. Justin and Cheng Cheng stared at them both confused. They could sense some sort of tension between the two.

“Sorry darling, got carried away.” He chuckled. “ I think you boys should go clean up this mess before your parents tell us off for letting you eat so much.” 

The two younger boys nodded and started heading to the kitchen busying themselves as Xukun grabbed y/n’s hand and lead out of the room.

“Why did you scare them away, they were harmless Kun Kun.” She laughed

“Because i have waited long enough for my time alone with you y/n.”

Y/n blushed as she punched Xukun lightly. 

“Aww is someone jealous of Cheng Cheng?”

“I think i’m more jealous of you, you got to kiss Cheng Cheng.” he laughed

How little did she know that he was indeed jealous. Today alone he had to watch as two different mens lips met hers.  Had so much changed within the time he was gone that she happily enjoyed the attention of other men again. Eventhough Cheng Cheng was young, he was still old enough as a vampire to have his cravings and desires too. Anyone could be a threat to steal her away. He’s always been there as her friend but the love he felt for her was much deeper. He loved how she never got mad at him for drinking her blood although he knew how much she hated the idea. How she would send him messages of new music she had found and cuddle up to him as they watched chinese dramas. How peaceful her sleeping face was as he’d stroke her hair. She often said that she was like lilou from Ice fantasy and that Xukun was her Kasuo. Mainly because they were blonde with blue eyes, but Xukun took it as more that they are soul mates. When they were in the dance room alone together making choreography, their bodies would just connect so fluidly. There was nothing awkward about their skinship. But most of all he loved just how innocent and loving she was. She was the type to believe in fairytales and that there is more magic in the world hidden somewhere, that if she weeds out the vampiric morons she will find a prince. If anyone messed with her brother for being only half she would confront them and beat them up and then cry to him about how scared she was.  He didn’t want to lose her but he knew he was going to have to leave again soon for another recording and who knows what would happen in this time. He had to make the right timing come sooner.

“Lets go to the dance studio, I want you to hear my new song.”

“What is it about?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“If its about some human girl you met whilst you was gone i’m going to be angry” Y/n Pouted.

Xukun laughed and went to the fridge to grab some drinks and food for them to take with them, knowing how long they usually end up staying in the dance room. Sometimes even sleeping there. Whilst Y/n went upstairs to change into a fresh black addidas tracksuit. As she was changing her phone was pinging non stop. She leant over to check who it was that was so impatient only to see one name. Sexy Yanjun, She rolled her eyes. He must of slipped his contact information into her phone when she wasn’t looking earlier. She began to peruse through the messages.

Xukun was wondering why she still hadn’t come downstairs. He headed to her room where he saw y/n sitting on her bed giggling with a slight blush across her cheeks.  Who was it this time he thought. Yanjun? wouldn’t surprise him. He crossed his arms leaning against the door frame scowling.

“Are we leaving or what?”

[nastywomenportraits-blog]

June!

HELLO NASTIES!

First things first, hi! How are you? We miss you. Thank you for being so nasty.

We know it's been a minute since you've heard from us. We took some time off but are back at work to make the world a little nastier. But before we get into the cool stuff we've done, watched, heard, and read, it wouldn't be a newsletter from a non-profit without a DONATE button! Click that button, every donation helps make our events bigger and better.

 COOL STUFF WE DID

We officially donated to The Southern Poverty Law Center! Thank you so much for coming out to the event and supporting us and this amazing organization. Your donations will have a profound impact on their fight against hate and support the amazing work they do in classrooms and courtrooms throughout the country.

We have a store! Missed the chance to buy the dope art we had at our event? Fear not, all that amazing art is available to buy online right here! Right now we’re only set up for local pickup/delivery in LA, but we’re working on getting shipping from coast to coast. (If you just can’t wait to get your feminist swag, don’t fear, hit us up privately and we’ll work some magic). All money earned goes right back into the organization so that we can create more great events.

 COOL STUFF WE WATCHED

 THE HANDMAID’S TALE

Horrified by the current state of politics in the US? Well this show won’t make you feel any better! A too-timely portrait of a world in which women have lost all agency and independence but are still resilient. Badass woman Reed Morano directs the first three episodes and the whole series has a distinctly feminist gaze. Elisabeth Moss, Samira Wiley, and Alexis Bledel kill it. Watch it on Hulu!

AMERICAN GODS

Another show based on a book, and it’s a surreal trip. We love the diverse casting and the hella complex characters. If you only watch one episode make sure it's ep 4, “Git Gone” - it centers on Laura Moon and we love a woman who looks death in the face and says "Fuck you." The show airs on Starz which is a pain but pro-tip: Wait until the end of the season and sign up for a 1-week free trial. Boom, whole season for free. Thank us later.

GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL 2

Not only is this sequel just as fun as the first action packed film, this one tackles some deep themes like family, sisterhood, and what happens when white dudes have too much power. It passes the Bechdel test with flying colors, has an amazing soundtrack (it might be playing on repeat as we write this!) and Baby Groot is the best thing of 2017 so far.

COOL STUFF WE HEARD.

POD SAVE AMERICA

We’ve got major crushes on all the guys over at Crooked Media and it all started when we first heard this podcast. Jon Favreau, Jon Lovett, Dan Pfeiffer, and Tommy Vietor are all super smart dudes who used to work for President Obama. Now they host no-bullshit podcasts about domestic and international politics. They do a great job of making politics accessible to everyone and cutting through all the media spin. They’re also really great at podcast ads #abetterwaytopod

DAMN.

Kendrick Lamar’s new album is fire. We’re also on the “Humble is an Amazing Music Video” Team.

OUTSIDE PODCAST’S XX FACTOR

Outside magazine’s podcast has been doing a mini-series called XX Factor, featuring stories by and about women “doing cool stuff in the outdoors.” Check out this interview with Mona Seraji, the first snowboarder from the Middle East to compete professionally at the Freeride World Qualifier. When asked how a girl from Iran, where women aren’t allowed in sports stadium, becomes an international athlete, she replies: “Ambition.”

COOL STUFF WE READ

THE SKIMM

Want to stay up to date on everything happening in the world but also want to live your life? Check out The Skimm! This lady-owned company reads all the news for you and lets you know what you need to know.

THE HANDMAID’S TALE/American gods

Can’t wait to find out what happens in your new favorite TV series? Well lucky for you it’s based on an amazing book. Read it in a weekend and get all the spoilers you could want. 

SOLANGE’S LETTER TO HER YOUNGER SELF

A powerful essay about the joys and struggles of being truly and honestly yourself. Read it while listening to A Seat at the Table for the full experience.

INSIDE HILLARY CLINTON’S LIFE AFTER THE ELECTION

Essential reading. In the words of the first female candidate of a major political party in the US: “Oh, I am pissed.” There’s so much in this profile to infuriate and light a fire under our asses.

PROFILE OF NYT REPORTER MAGGIE HABERMAN

Maggie Haberman is one of the hardest working political reporters today, and she takes no shit. She’s equally respected on the left and the right, and strictly sticks to the facts (however unbelievable they may be at times). It’s encouraging to know these are the journalists holding the administration accountable.

COOL THINGS WE’RE EXCITED ABOUT

PRIDE

We're proud of our LGBTQ+ friends every day of the year but especially proud of the LA community who are turning their annual Parade into #ResistMarch. "Instead of a Pride Parade meant to celebrate our past progress, we are going to march to ensure all our futures.  Just as we did in 1970's first LGBTQ+ Pride, we are going to march in unity with those who believe that America's strength is its diversity."

Wonder Woman

Do we really need to explain why we're excited about a superhero movie starring and directed by a woman? Not to mention that so far it's tied with The Incredibles as the highest rated superhero movie ever (take that Iron Man). We are STOKED.

YOU

We wouldn't be here without you and we don't want you to ever forget how grateful we are. Your strength, determination, and fight inspire us everyday. Whenever things seem like they can't get any worse (and then do) we remember you and have a little hope for the future.

We know it's hard to stay active day after day after day and it's ok to take a few days off. But we can't be complacent, we can't let this be our normal. Lucky for us there are so many great ways to stay active that don't take all your energy. We love Resistbot and 5 Calls. Two services that make contacting your representative hella easy.

You can also always donate to us - it's very easy!

  We love writing you long newsletters but nothing beats seeing your wondrous faces. We've got some irons in the fire and some fun new events in the works but want to hear what you want! So let us know what you want to see from us in the future. What kind of events would get you out the door? What amazing women inspire you? Historical, famous, or just your best friend. We want to know about and promote ALL feminist women.

Until next time, stay nasty! (and donate!)

 xoxoxo

Nasty Women Portraits

 PS This is the only unsolicited newsletter you'll get, if you want to stay in the know be sure to subscribe right here. You'll get monthly emails like this one and be the first to know about new events!