#[ scrolling social media is a hoot. ]

[araneitela]

Sometimes I forget that I'm almost only 35, because I'm mentally so tired, I feel like I'm 72.

#[ ooc. ] don't try to make it logical or edit your soul according to the fashion. rather; follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly. #[ seriously. i dunno but it's just-- ever since i passed 25 in specific. i feel like i look at so many things and i just feel like. ] #[ an old lady on a porch with a garden hose-- aiming it at random kiddos that set foot on even a blade of grass in my front yard. ] #[ touch grass. but not my grass. >.> ] #[ touch grass. talk to a cashier. and /actually/ communicate. ] #[ my three pieces of advice in life after 34 years of life. ] #[ scrolling social media is a hoot. ]

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Advice from a stranger

PAIRING | Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.3K

SUMMARY | You've been on Tumblr for several years and have gathered a large following who often come to you for different advice. When Sebastian joins Tumblr and finds your blog, he can't help but ask for advice, too, and the two of you meet one day, which is a huge surprise for you.

WARNING(S) | None.

REQUEST | @formyexperiments | Sebastian Stan x reader where they both encounter each other online (Tumblr) for a random advice from a stranger, Seb does not reveal who he is but he asks for different types of advice from reader which reader is able to give and they eventually meet each other but only Seb knows her as she sent him a pic

A/N | Thank you so much for this fun request! It was a hoot to work on this one. And for those who are interested, there is a recommendation at the bottom of this fic that you should definitely check out if you enjoyed this! 🖤

A/N 2.0 | In this fic you might see 'Y/U' a couple of times, which stands for 'Your Username'. Seb will be adressed as 'Seb' or Sebastian throughout the fic.

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ only banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Sebastian Stan Masterlist

Sebastian got home from another long day at a film set and went straight to his shower to relieve himself of some tension that was building up in his shoulders. The hot water running along his neck, shoulders, and back always makes him feel calmer.

When he's done and dried off, he slips into a pair of joggers and an old t-shirt before walking to his kitchen and grabbing some dinner he prepped earlier this week.

With a sigh, he sits on the couch and eats his dinner while watching a Netflix show that's been on his watch list for too long, but he can't seem to focus on it, so he starts scrolling through his social media instead.

When he's scrolling through Instagram, he suddenly sees some fan art he's tagged in, and his interest is immediately piqued, so he goes to check it out and sees that there is more on this website called 'Tumblr.'

This could be fun to check out, he thinks to himself, and he gets up to grab his laptop, ready to step into the world of Tumblr that is unfolding right in front of his very eyes.

The account is made quickly, and he looks up the account that he saw his earlier artwork on, and he quickly gets lost in all of their works, not only of himself and his characters but lots of other people and their characters.

After deciding to follow the account, he scrolls some more through Tumblr and suddenly spots a post called ''Advice from a stranger | Masterpost. His curiosity won this time, so he clicked on it.

He sees many links to different sorts of advice ranging from making friends and advice about love/relationships to how to find a job and everything in between.

After reading through some of them, he realizes the advice you give out is good, so he decides to give it a whirl and ask you for some as well, something pretty simple to begin with.

''How to make friends on Tumblr''.

He makes a quick request and decides not to send it anonymously; there are tons of people with a similar username, so there's no use in that he decides.

Not even an hour later, he gets a notification that you have answered his advice, and once again, it's pretty good advice.

Hi!

First, welcome to Tumblr; seeing you have found us is good. 😉

To make friends here, reblogging posts are always a good place to start. This could be fanfiction, fanart, or all other sorts of posts! Although people don't mind you liking their posts, a reblog helps them out because it spreads their posts to more people on this platform!

Another trick is to react to people's posts since you also end up on people's radars. And usually, one thing leads to another, and you become mutual here! (A mutual is when you both follow one another 😁)

If you ever need a different kind of advice, please look on the master post, and if you can not find it there, don't hesitate to ask again 🖤

Sebastian reads it several times and takes your advice to heart, reblogging and commenting on people's posts, but mainly your advice.

Telling you how he related to that piece of advice, asking you for more advice, all that sort of thing, and you noticed him slipping into your activity tab more and more.

It started with more and more reblogs and comments under your advice, sometimes giving some of his own in response as well, and that turned into him helping you make up some advice now and again.

In the meantime, almost a year has passed, and Sebastian has gotten pretty close to you via private messages, though he never told you everything. Though you didn't mind, you devised a plan one day.

Y/U | You live in New York, right? I'm going there in a few weeks for a work trip! If you want to, I would like to meet up, and we can think of some advice in person if you're up for it.

Seb | Hm, I'd love to meet up; when will you be in New York? Because I'll be away for work soon!

Y/U | I'll be there in 3 weeks and staying for a week. Will you be available then?

After Sebastian confirms he is available that week, the two of you make all sorts of plans from where the two of you will meet, what you will do, and all that good stuff.

There's only one small problem: he knows what you look like, but you don't know it's the Sebastian Stan you've been talking to and getting to know all this time so that it will be a great surprise.

The two of you have openly talked about how you're such a big fan of his, and even though he felt weird about it, he quickly got used to it and even told you some secrets, not many people know.

You're in New York for your work trip, and the last few days are your free time, and you're meeting up with Sebastian today. The weather is very nice for the time of the year, and you've opted to wear a White and blue striped sundress combined with white sneakers.

Sebastian told you about a coffee shop near Central Park, so that's where you're waiting, your laptop safely in your backpack, a steaming cup of tea in front of you as you wait for Sebastian. You told him you would be there earlier and sent him a photo so he knew how to look for it, and his heart skipped a few beats as he saw the picture.

He opted for a floral shirt, leather jacket, and dark jeans to stand out only a little. He doesn't like that, but he spends an extra few minutes in front of the mirror to ensure everything looks perfect for you.

So now you're waiting for a mystery man, all you know is his name and that he's good at giving advice, but other than that, you won't know who you're waiting for.

Suddenly you're pulled from your thoughts as the bell of the coffee shop rings, and none other than Sebastian Stan walks through it. Your jaw drops slightly, and you feel yourself staring at your celebrity crush.

What are the odds that he would be in the same coffee shop as you?! Well, those odds are more significant than you could ever have thought because he's walking over to you with a smile.

''Y/N?'' he asks, and you feel like you're in a dream. One where he knows you exist, but that's when the realization hits you. You've been talking to your celebrity crush for almost a year and never knew.

''S-Sebastian?'' you ask as you get up, unsure if you should hug him or shake his hand, but he spreads his arms to pull you in for a hug, which you gladly accept.

''I-I can't believe it! I've been talking to you this entire time. I have given you advice... On multiple occasions... This feels unreal,'' you say with a nervous chuckle, but he tells you it's all true. It's been him this entire time.

The two of you sit down, and after you've gotten over your initial shock, you hit it off and spend a few hours in the coffee shop talking and writing advice until you have to leave for a dinner reservation with your colleagues.

''I know I'm not exactly in the position to ask for favors, but could you do me a small one by taking a selfie together?'' you ask, and Sebastian agrees.

When you leave the shop, he goes with you and walks you to the restaurant for your dinner reservation, which is pretty close, and when you finally say goodbye, you give each other a big hug.

Sometimes, the universe rewards good behavior, and that is nothing short of true for you.

I want to give a small shout-out to @imyourbratzdoll and the amazing fic she wrote called a tumblr obsession (NSFW). If you liked my work, please make sure to check out her fic as well, it is totally worth it! 💚

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan request #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #seb stan #seb stan one shot #seb stan fanfiction #seb stan fanfic #seb stan imagine #seb stan request #seb stan x female reader #seb stan x reader #seb stan fluff

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter one

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca sees her again in the most unexpected place.

rating: M (drug abuse, mention of sexual abuse in later chapters) word count: 2,100

ao3 link

*

“Any messages, Gina?”

Beca Mitchell strode out of the elevator, high heels clicking on marble flooring on her way to her office.

Her assistant rushed to walk alongside her, notebook opened as she handed Beca her second coffee of the day, which Beca took with an appreciative smile.

“Mr. Mendes needs to push back his meeting to Thursday, and Mr. Hozier-Byrne is waiting for a call back, preferably before 2 as he’s five hours ahead.”

Beca rounded the corner to her office and dragged her leather desk chair back, shrugging off her woolen trench coat and draping it over the back. “Got it, remind me what I have planned today?”

“You’re having lunch with Mr. Zimmer at the Plaza to discuss Jesse’s project, and apart from the weekly team meeting at five, you’re expected at Edgy Reggie’s party from 10 pm at the Sapphire.”

A groan surfaced from Beca’s throat and her eyes slammed shut as she plopped down on her chair. “I forgot about that. Luke can’t go?”

Gina winced and shook her head. “Family dinner.”

“Family dinner, my ass. His whole family lives back in fucking England,” Beca muttered before she could help it, throwing her assistant an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Thanks, Gina. Hold my calls until ten, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Mitchell.”

As she did every morning while sipping her coffee, Beca listened to demos over the next hour, forwarding them to Luke if any of those yet-unknown artists spiked her interest enough to sign them into their label.

The rest of the day consisted of two meetings, a dozen calls, countless email exchanges, and not enough studio time. A thick blanket of darkness had veiled the city by the time she closed her laptop and called it a day. She stretched her neck and took a moment to gaze at the lit skyscrapers through her floor to ceiling windows, sighing softly.

It was sometimes weird to think about how this was her life. How the asocial, grumpy freshman from thirteen years ago had made it to the top of the music business and now co-owned one of the biggest labels throughout the country.

Scratch that, throughout the  world.  

Snapping out of her daze, Beca stood and slipped on her coat, plucking her phone off the desk to call herself a Lyft home. She had just about time to take a shower and eat dinner before heading to that stupid party.

*

Beca could think of a million things she’d rather be doing right now as she strode down the wet sidewalk towards the lit  GIRLS  red neon sign in the distance a couple of hours later.

She told herself one drink, an hour tops, then she could head home, put on her pajamas, and finish that true-crime TV show she started yesterday.

“Name?” A dude bulkier than the freaking Rock asked her as she made it to the club door.

“Um, Beca Mitchell. I’m Edgy Reggie’s producer.”

Her artist had privatized a strip-club for his celebration party over his album hitting Platinum, and Beca couldn’t  not  show up, as... well, he was an important client and brought her label the big bucks.

The guy checked his clipboard and nodded, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. “You’re good to go.”

Casting the bouncer a nod, Beca ducked inside the dimmed, crowded club, wincing at the crappy music heavily pumping through the speakers. Three girls in bikinis and heels stood on platforms, twisting their bodies around dancing poles as dozens of dudes reclined back in leather sofas, shamelessly ogling their forms.

Beca’s nose crinkled as she scanned the room for her artist.

“Yo, Beca!”

Her gaze snapped to the left corner, catching sight of Edgy Reggie (he didn’t want to change his stage name, no matter how much Beca insisted) waving her over.

“Hey,” she cast him a tight-lipped smile, tucking her straight hair behind her ears. She nodded at the other dudes sitting around the low table. “What’s up.”

“Guys, this is the girl behind the magic of my album,” Edgy Reggie explained, throwing an arm over her shoulders before Beca could squirm away. “She is  fire. ”

Beca chuckled awkwardly, then pointed over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go get myself a drink.”

Maybe two come to think of it, so she could get herself through this.

She headed to the bar and ordered an old-fashioned, fishing in the inside of her coat pocket for her credit card.

“Thanks,” she muttered when the barmaid (also clad in a bikini that left very little to the imagination) came back with her drink, handing her her card just as the club’s speaker made an announcement.

“Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome to the stage…  Ariel! ”

The crowd cheered and hooted, Beca glancing over her shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.

There was no amount of alcohol that could have prepared her for the scene unfolding before her.

There, on the main stage, strutted in a redhead, only wearing a silver g-string and high heels. Beca would have recognized that shade of hair anywhere, and while the lighting in the club was low, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that this girl -- Ariel -- was her former best friend.

Her former best friend who had dropped from the face of the Earth almost five years ago, without so much as an explanation. She hadn’t just stopped talking to Beca, but to all of them, even Aubrey. She was nowhere to be found on social media and when Beca had tried calling her after six months without news, she found out Chloe’s phone number had been disconnected. It wasn’t like they talked on a daily basis before that. After three years spent living on opposite sides of the country, the texts started coming further in between, their communication coming down to a few check-ins a year and on birthdays, until they eventually stopped.

Fearing the worst, Aubrey had called Chloe’s parents, who assured her she was fine, working as a vet in NYC and in a committed relationship. While relieved, the news stung Beca, as it was clear Chloe had deliberately ceased contact.

It took some time, but Beca eventually stopped thinking about her so much, especially when she started getting successful as a music producer and pouring her time and energy into her projects. She soon won her first Grammys, Gold, and Platinum records featured in notorious magazines and talk shows. She could stop working tomorrow and money wouldn’t become an issue, but Beca didn’t like to boast about her fortune, or fame, for that matter.

Despite being insanely busy, she still kept in touch with the other Bellas in their group chat, but she hadn’t seen any of them in a couple of years, missing the last reunion because of her job.

Beca’s mind steered back to the present, where the once most important person in her life was currently dancing for money. Men were staring hungrily at her as she sensually moved around the pole or bent over with her ass in the air to collect dollar bills from the floor, and Beca suddenly felt sick.

This couldn’t be her dream job, right? Something  had  to have happened for her to settle for this.

Beca grabbed her drink and knocked it back, flagging the barmaid down for another as her mind reeled as to what to do.

She needed to talk to Chloe. In private. Tonight, as soon as she finished… parading in front of these disgusting fuckboys. Only… she wasn’t sure Chloe wanted to talk to her.

“Hey,” she said when the barmaid came back as an idea struck. “How do I get a private lap dance with one of the girls?”

The girl raised a surprised eyebrow. “Backroom, hun. Who do you want?”

“Ariel.”

The platinum blonde let out a curt laugh. “Ariel doesn’t do lap dances, babe.”

Beca’s eyebrows knitted together in a heavy frown. “Why not?”

“Because she’s the boss’ favorite.”

Beca didn’t know what that meant exactly, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out as another wave of nausea swept over her insides. “Is your boss here tonight?”

The barmaid scanned the room quickly, nodding. “He’s the guy over there in the suit.”

“Thanks.” She took her drink and headed over to where the fifty-something dude was talking to another guy. Stepping up to them, she ignored their glares over her interrupting their conversation. “Hey. Are you the manager?”

The dude who looked like he ran a mafia mob turned a bit more towards her. “What’s this about?”

“How much for a private dance with Ariel?”

His gaze flickered over Beca’s shoulder towards the stage, then sized Beca up, unimpressed. “She’s not available, kid.”

Beca gritted her teeth at the condescending tone of his voice. “Not even for ten grand for twenty minutes?”

He slow-blinked, then burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m being serious. Ten grand, twenty minutes. Alone in a room, just the two of us.”

The man’s expression hardened. “And I said she’s not  available .”

“Twenty grand.” Hell, she’d throw half a million on the table if that’s what was needed to talk to Chloe. After a beat, she added, “And no touching. That’s not what I’m here for.”

The manager seemed to consider her offer for a handful of seconds. “You got the money?”

Dammit.  She couldn’t withdraw that much right now, she needed to call her bank. “Tomorrow night.”

He smirked, snickering. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He turned back to his buddy, leaving Beca grumbling under her breath as she turned around and stalked out of the club. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t stand the sight of Chloe objectifying her body for money.

As soon as she got home, Beca fired up her computer and typed in Chloe’s name in her browser. Apart from old stuff on the Bellas, she found nothing relevant. Chloe appeared to still be MIA from any social media.

Beca grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts, bringing the device to her ear.

“What’s wrong?”  

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

“We call each other twice a year on our respective birthdays and stick to the Bellas chat for the rest.”  

Beca nibbled on her bottom lip. “I found Chloe.”

A long stretch of silence on the other end of the line followed.  “What?”  

“I saw her tonight, Aubrey.”

“Where??”

“At a strip club. She’s… a stripper.”

“What? Did you talk to her?”  

“No. She was performing on stage. But I will. I’m… buying a lap dance from her tomorrow. I figured… she’ll have to listen to me since she’s being paid for it.” Her eyes slammed shut, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t know. It might be a bad idea, but-- I just wanna make sure she’s okay, you know?”

“Yes, of course. Keep me posted?”  

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

Beca shuffled to bed after that, but sleep never came. Her mind kept reeling about Chloe, about what she might say to her once they were face to face, and the possibility that Chloe might shoot her down and refuse to talk to her.

She spent her Saturday trying and failing to make some progress on an ongoing project, willing time to tick faster so she could head back to the club. Mid-afternoon, she headed to the bank to withdraw twenty grand, tucking the envelope in her purse.

“Why does it feel like you’re doing something illegal, Beca?” She muttered to herself on her way out of the bank, slightly paranoid about carrying so much cash on her.

The club was just as crowded when she got there around 10 pm. A different girl danced on the main stage and the manager was nowhere in sight, so Beca perched herself on a stool at the bar, ordering herself another old-fashioned.

“Is your boss around?” She asked the barmaid, a different girl from last night.

“Who’s asking?”

“Tell him the person who wants Ariel is here.”

The girl’s eyebrows shot up at that but she didn’t say anything, nodding before strutting away. Beca sipped at her drink for the next twenty minutes, keeping her back to the stage.

The manager eventually appeared in her peripheral, and he leaned an elbow over the counter, lacing his fingers. “So what’s so special about Ariel?”

Beca slowly set her drink down and fished for the envelope, pushing it towards him while keeping her gaze straight ahead. “I like redheads.”

He plucked the envelope off the counter and peered inside. Twenty stacks of ten hundred dollar bills in exchange for twenty minutes with Chloe.

He nodded. “Follow me.”

Beca finished the rest of her drink, the alcohol managing to muffle her nerves some as she followed the manager towards the back of the club, and down a set of stairs. Her heart pumped hard in her ears and her palms started to sweat as she was led inside a dimly lit room with a handful of sofa chairs and a small stage with a dancing pole, some kind of music that seemed straight out of a porno carrying through the speakers. A spiral staircase was tucked in the right corner, and she guessed that is where the strippers made their entrance from.

Beca wondered how far things usually went in these kinds of private rooms.

She wondered how far  Chloe  went.

She cast the guy a tight-lipped smile and a nod before he closed the door, and paced the room for a little while, eventually lowering herself on one of the leather chairs and wiping her palms on her designer slacks.

The clicking of heels over metal made Beca’s spine snap straighter. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as the steps grew nearer, digging her nails into her thighs as a new round of nerves gripped her insides.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” the huskiness of Chloe’s voice made Beca swallow, and she felt a hand run over her shoulders as Chloe approached from behind.

Glancing up, Beca met familiar, ocean blues.

#bechloe #bechloe fic #bechloe fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #pieces

[dancingazaleas]

bertholdt hoover | mc donald’s

HELPLPPPP i love he 🥺 i love he so much

sorry if this was trash :-(( i was rlly sleepy when i wrote this. pls enjoy

warnings/notes: cursing, modern au, highschool au, bertholdt, reiner, marcel, and reader are seniors, porco is a junior, reader is marcel’s twin, bert is ambidextrous (my headcanon), hard pining, bert’s a music prodigy, female reader

when you meet him, it was at your house on a friday night.

porco and marcel had decided to have their obnoxious and messy friend group over at the house while your parents were away for the weekend doing god knows what.

you were just annoyed that your mom said their friends could come over.

it wasn’t that they were inheritaly bad people, it was just that they were overly loud and, somehow, always forgot to pick up their shit before they left. you’d always get your ass chewed out by your mom for it too.

you also hated going downstairs whenever they were there. if marcel or porco caught even a glimpse of you, they would pester you to play a round of super smash bros and wii sports with them and the group. whenever the two of them started to pester, usually reiner would join in until you would cave. reiner was annoying when it game to game nights.

so, you sat upstairs in your room trying to go to sleep and drown out their laughter and yelling, but you couldn’t. they were too fucking loud.

you texted both porco and marcel angrily, telling them ‘shut your fucking mouths i cant fucking sleep’. you concluded that they were too distracted to notice your texts when they continued to yell and laugh. you scoffed and decided that you’d just try to scroll through social media and rant to ymir over text.

30 minutes had passed and the group downstairs showed no signs of quieting down and you were starting to get hungry. so with a sigh, you made your way downstairs towards your kitchen with the intention of finding pizza flavored goldfish in mind.

you were glad you weren’t noticed when you passed by the living room, that meant no pizza flavored goldfish. you opened the door to the pantry only to find cereal, protein powder and bars, porco and marcel’s chips, and the food your mom and dad ate.

this meant they had used your food for this get together. you groaned loudly and slammed the door to the pantry shut. the echo of it immediately silenced the large group in the living room, which held your next homicide victims.

you stomped into the room, irritation written all over your face as you looked at your brothers, who were hugging each other in fear.

“first, you ignore my texts asking you to shut your big fucking mouths. then, you decided death when you chose to serve your friends my food.” the two teenage boys nodded wearily.

with a battle scream, you jumped over the coffee table and on top of them on the leather couch, fists swinging. they shrieked in fear, scrambling under your weight to get away as everyone else in the room laughed at the scene.

you sat on porco’s back, the main offender, and held his head up by digging your thumbs into the bones of his eyebrows.

“porco, if you want me off of your’s and marcel’s ass in the next week; you better drive me to fucking mc donald’s, get me food, and pay for it!!! deal?!” you shouted at him, kicking away the hand that was reaching around to shove you away.

he slammed him palm onto the couch two times, “okay, okay!!! deal!! now get your ass off of me!!!”

you let go of his face and got off of him, but not without giving him a hard slap to the side of the head.

reiner hooted and clapped his large hands together, “another wrestling victory for (name)!!!”

everyone laughed a little, and you did a little bow before plopping down next to pieck, a college student you met in junior year while she was a senior who you were actually quite close with.

“how do you always manage to get your ass kicked by (name) everytime we come here,” zeke, another friend you’d met in junior year while he was in his senior year, snickered at the misery of porco.

“ha ha,” porco gave a monotone laugh, “leave me alone old man.”

“porco, where’s my mc donalds,” you sang and watched marcel roll his eyes a little.

“(name), it’s 11 o’clock at night. i’m not going to get you fucking mc donalds,” porco snapped but cowered away when you made the slight movement of getting up onto your feet.

“bertholdt’ll drive ‘em!” reiner piped up and everyone turned to said bert.

you felt yourself getting flustered when you took a look at bertholdt. he was tall and lean guy cowering in the corner of your couch with dark red cheeks as he stared back at you. his hair was a dark brown and he had the prettiest light jade colored eyes with a hooked nose right between them.

“oh...,” you were stunned, which was a uncommon occurrence, and felt like it was just you and him, “yeah... i’m down. i don’t think we’ve met before.”

bertholdt gave a shy nod and stood up for the couch, and you noticed just how tall he was. before you could make a step towards him however, porco jumped to his feet and got between you.

“nope! changed my mind! get in the tr—,” you shoved him back onto the couch next to marcel, who had a small and gentle smile.

“bert’s gonna get some,” pieck teased with a giggle as she poked at your sides from her seat.

you laughed bashfully and slapped her hands away, telling bertholdt that you were ready to leave when he was. pieck seized her attacks when you followed after bertholdt when he made his way to your front door.

“don’t forget to use protection,” annie shouted nonchalantly, the whole room bursting into laughter.

after that, both you and bertholdt hurried to get out of the house and into his car.

which led you to now, sitting in the parking lot of the sketchy and dingy mc donald’s eating and talking.

“wait, so when reiner...,” you chew while laughing, “told you marcel had a twin, you thought it was a prank?”

bertholdt chuckles shyly and nods, “yeah. i just.. i never saw you around cause no one pointed you out when we were at school. reiner would do stuff like that ever since we were kids.”

you shake your head with a smile, “so, why’d you decide to transfer to titan high just a couple weeks ago?”

bertholdt thinks for a second, “better music program. reiner mentioned something about it to me once, so then i did my own research. titan has multiple opportunities for their students to get a chance at getting scholarships to prestigious universities for fine arts by competing. also, all my friends are here.”

your heart swells as the way bertholdt eyes shine as he speaks of the music program, so much that you forget to answer for a second.

“oh! so, what instrument do you play?”

“uhm... i play the cello, violin, viola, double bass,” he pauses, “i’m learning the harp, piano, lyre, and the guitar.”

you gape at him, “so you’re a prodigy?!”

he blushes and gives a small shrug, “i’ve never really considered myself as such... but i guess by definition i am.”

“th-then why the hell are you going to titan high?!”

“i still wanted to be a normal kid. my dad put me in public schools with decent music programs so i could still play. my favorites are the piano and the cello.”

“hold out your hand for a second,” you request, to which he obliges.

you take it into your own hand, eyes scanning over the palm of his massive hand. his fingers are worn and he has a writer’s bump on his middle finger despite it being his left hand. he has a bandaid on his pinky finger and the tips of his fingers are a flushed red as well as his knuckles. his nails are perfectly even and trimmed and you notice a scar on his thenar stretching to his radial longtitude crease. you run the tip of your finger over the scar, ignoring how bertholdt flinches at the contact.

bertholdt’s blushing and he feels like he’s going to pass out on the spot. the only other girls he’s been this close to were pieck, annie and his friend ymir, who all have girlfriends.

but then bertholdt feels the soft skin of your lips gently kissing at the scar on his hand with your eyes closed. his heart races and it feels like it’s beating out of his chest.

bert’s pretty sure he can see black dots in his vision.

you look him in the eyes now, “i know we haven’t known each other for that long, but you’re really beautiful, bert.”

bertholdt flushed cheeks turn pale as he faints.

#bertholdt fubar #bertholdt x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin manga #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #snk #snk bertholdt #snk fanfiction

[milliethekitty27-writing]

Alfred In October

On the last day of September, every single nation who is friends with Alfred on any social media platform blocks him without hesitation. 

Yes, even his brother. 

You may be wondering why, because Alfred’s social media is always a train wreck, but the answer is plain and simple.

Alfred spends all of October screaming about Halloween. 

The first day is endless spooky scary skeleton memes. These will continue throughout the month, but they’re particularly prevalent on the first day. Matthew sends him All I Want For Christmas links he disguises as other things, rick-rolling but with Mariah Carrey. Alfred usually ends up calling his brother yelling that it’s too early. Jett’s started doing it too and Alfred’s only a little salty.

The first weekend is decorating the house - he covers it in fake spiderwebs, a big blow up cat that moves its head, and there are orange lights everywhere. He hangs ghosts in the tree and gets fake red eyes that glow to shove into bushes.

On the second weekend, he gets anyone who comes to visit (sometimes he goes alone, but often Matt or Jett or Kiku or one of his friends will come by because as irritating as Alfred’s love for October may be, it is a lot of fun) to go with him to a haunted house. They leave shaking and laughing and making fun of each other and get milkshakes, and the next day they go to a huge farmers market to pick out the best produce for a big holiday feast (Matthew, without fail, teases him about when Thanksgiving is, like the coward doesn’t come over for Thanksgiving to stuff himself full of pie and turkey and fall asleep watching football with him. They fight, but they do get along rather well. Hockey is the biggest danger) 

His halloween party often happens that second weekend, because he likes to have the next two weeks to fully prepare. It happens Saturday night, after his haunted house, so he can shop in the morning and make those who came for the House help him clean up his house. He makes pumpkin desserts and gets out his fog machine, invites his friends from all around the world. Sometimes it’s a small party, sometimes half of the world is there (literally) Everyone dresses up and there’s games and movies and music and it’s a blast. He spends the entire week cleaning up, and the third weekend is quiet because he’s still recovering. 

He does his pumpkins on the third weekend, as close to Halloween as he can spare to keep them in the best shape. He posts pictures of the process to Instagram. Pumpkin carving is a very serious time because he wants it to be just right. He blasts reruns of Halloween Wars and eats hershey bars as he scrolls through pinterest looking for ideas. He buys his pumpkins that weekend, usually at some local farm that sells apple cider. He’ll walk around for hours doing corn mazes with apple cider in hand, picking out the very best pumpkins. He cuts at the bottom and scoops out the guts, sometimes calling Matthew to see what he’s doing (Matthew likes Halloween too, don’t get me wrong, but Alfred goes batshit) Alfred is one of those pumpkin carvers who can get the flash scraped down so it glows and has texture. He uses a real candle because he can and sprinkles cinnamon inside, he covers it with lemon to try to keep it preserved, and he places it outside, maybe on his porch or next to the cat. 

Alfred goes ham on the candy. He gets the big candy bars, the good stuff, and for the kids who can’t have the sweets he gets those Japanese erasers you can pull apart or really neat pens. He stocks up good (he’ll eat it or give it away if not enough kids come) Some years he makes caramel apples for the kids who are really brave and are willing to give him a song or a dance, or just for himself because they’re delicious.

The only thing he doesn’t do in October is the costume. He’s had that ready for months. Some years he does superheroes but other years he just goes more generic. There was one year he went as a pirate; Arthur spat out his tea and lectured him about proper boots and all that. (this year he was going to do a zombie of some kind, but he changed his mind since there had been a lot of death and he needed a break) He dresses up as a cowboy instead, complete with spurs and a lasso at his hip, and he prepares his best Western accent. 

He loves to stay by the door and see the kids costumes. He loves watching children of all ages running up and down the path, hooting and hollering, getting scared by the neighbors (one of whom is almost as bad as Alfred, but likes to up the scare-antics). He sees children who’ve come to his house for ages slowly growing up, and he gets to dunk loads of candy into their bags while Hocus Pocus blasts in the background. 

He runs his mini candy store from five-thirty until eight-thirty, when most kids start going to bed. Then he leaves the candy bowl outside for the last stragglers, turns out the light at nine, and watches scary movies. 

On the years when Matt visits (he was supposed to this year, but everyone was sick and they agreed they’d make it even grander next year) they dress up in twin costumes (they were tentatively thinking Thing One and Thing Two, and if they could get Francis or Arthur to come they were going to make them be the Cat in the Hat) and stay up until five in the morning screaming at ghosts and shoveling popcorn into their mouths. For this year, though, Alfred is alone, and he’s going to enjoy every second of pumpkin spice, spooky ghosts, and the autumn rainbow of the leaves as they prepare for cold weather. He’ll sip his apple cider and watch Halloween Wars and enjoy irritating everyone by emailing them about skeleton wars. 

Oh yes.

Alfred loves Halloween. 

----

Thank you for reading!

Halloween is one of my favorite times of year and I love the fall, so I like to think that Alfred appreciates it too. I’m really sad that I won’t be home to do it (my neighborhood is the BEST trick-or-treating spot) and I hope things clear up enough that kids can dress up and enjoy it. I just think it’s neat, you know.

I am in school now and having to balance work, so I don’t know how consistent I’ll be with the writing (inspiration was a long time coming for this one, thank goodness for the month shift) Words are hard, man. Here’s hoping October is a gentle month of 2020!

#writing #fanfiction #hetalia #axis powers hetalia #aph america #aph alfred f jones #halloween #look man fall is pretty #there are less bugs #and apples and pumpkins and my favorite foods are growing #and i love halloween #alfred is a giant loveable child with a golden retriever personality #how can he not love halloween

[jacemontgomery]

Jace had been scrolling through social media for what must have been hours, too bored to do anything productive. He had kept a fairly stoic expression for the majority of his surfing, but suddenly he was hooting with laughter. His lungs couldn’t keep up, and he found himself gasping wildly for breath. Looking up to see his company, he held his phone out. “Have you seen this?”

#shinestarter #shrugs well it's a starter I guess #figured I would start him in a good mood before he gets rude #odds are high that he's referring to something about another celeb but it could be a meme who knows

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

<<Prev | Next>>

Part 11

Angel spent most of the next morning nursing an excruciating hangover. He hadn't even had that much to drink, but he still spent a good amount of time hunched over, retching into the toilet. When finally his stomach had settled enough to get a sports drink down, he crawled back onto his futon and pulled a blanket over his head. 

He intended to spend the rest of the day like that, napping and forgetting the night before, but sleep eluded him. He tossed and turned fretfully until finally he grabbed his phone from the end table and checked his notifications. 

His Instagram notifications had been going off all night, to the point he finally silenced his phone, something he never did normally. There were notifications for followers, comments, likes - and one tagged picture from Clayton's account. 

His stomach dropped and he thought he was going to be sick again. He didn't want to look at it, but he knew he had to. He needed to know if his entire social media career was over. He couldn't stand that thought. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to being a nobody so desperate for cash that he quit school to strip. He didn't want to be just a face in the crowd again. 

He hesitated a long time before tapping the notification. The Instagram logo came up on the screen and he was presented with a picture of himself and Clayton. Clayton had his hands on either side of Angel's face, and was forcing his mouth onto Angel's. Angel was tagged in the post, but all the caption said was 'West Virginians know how to party'. There was no mention of the fight, no acknowledgement that Angel looked completely surprised in the photo. 

He scrolled through the comments. They were all hearts or eggplant emojis or declarations of jealousy. 

That was Instagram for you, he supposed. Everything sanitized for public consumption, worst qualities twisted into aspirational ones. 

There was no way he could possibly talk about the attempted assault now. He'd just look petty and attention-seeking. He'd get accused of being a gold digger looking for a pay-off. 

And the worst thing about it was that when he checked his own profile, he found that overnight, he'd smashed past ten thousand followers and was edging close to twenty thousand. His follower count had more than doubled, and he didn't even care. It had happened the wrong way. This wasn't the kind of attention he wanted. He didn't want to be seen as Clayton Howard's hookup. 

Morbid curiosity compelled him to check Youtube. Sure enough, Clayton's vlog channel had posted a new video about Charleston, but it mostly covered the daytime as he and his crew had run around the city being obnoxious to locals. Angel's stomach twisted. God, he could see so clearly now how everything Clayton did was an act. An especially grating one, at that. How had he ever had a crush on this guy? 

And then there was Angel on screen, smiling into the camera and throwing up a peace sign as Clayton wrapped his hand around his shoulders. The rest of the video was made up of rapid cuts - walking to Broadway, drinking Fireball shots, dancing. Then a shot that mirrored the photo on Instagram of Clayton kissing Angel, his friends hooting in approval. The video cut to Clayton shouting at the camera for the viewer to buy his merch and subscribe to his channel, and that was it. Video over. His disgusting behavior completely edited out, Angel's fate left in question. 

Angel put the phone down, turning onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. He felt like trash. Literal trash, in that he'd been used and tossed away. And nobody even knew it. Nobody would care. After all, he had less than 20k followers. 

He stayed like that for a long time, face pressed into his pillow. Tears came on and off, but he didn't even feel sad. He mostly felt empty. He was nothing, a nobody. A fake persona for the internet to consume and then throw aside. A pretty face that got views. Content. 

His phone rang. He ignored it. It stopped. He continued to lay there, feeling awful. 

Time passed. He wasn't sure how long - he may have dozed off at some point. But then the phone rang again and brought him back to the present. 

He couldn't hide from the world forever. 

He lifted his head and turned to look at the phone, precariously balanced at the edge of the futon. His eyebrows came together in confusion. That wasn't the name he'd expected to see on the caller ID. 

"Hello?" He asked, bringing the phone to his ear. 

"Hey dude," Demie replied. Angel noticed for the first time that despite his tone being monotonous, there was a warmth under Demie's words. His voice was rich and deep, like the ringing of a gong. 

"Demie?" Angel asked. Of course it was Demie. But still, he was surprised. "What… what's up?" 

"Just checking in on you, man. You seemed super out of it last night." 

Oh, that was right. He'd called Demie. He couldn't remember much of the conversation, but one part did stick out in his mind. In his drunken state, he'd told Demie he liked him. And Demie had replied in kind. 

For the first time that day, his heart didn't feel like a cold heavy lump of metal in his chest. 

"Yeah. I'm okay." Angel lied. 

"You sure? You seemed… I dunno. Out of it." 

"I mean…" Angel took a deep, shuddering breath. When he spoke again, he had to fight to keep his voice from cracking. "I just… I really looked up to his guy, but now I know he's a complete ass, and I can't even talk to anyone about it, because they'll just take his side." 

"Yeah, fuck that guy," Demie said, and Angel couldn't help but smile. It was just the way Demie said it - he had no idea who Angel was talking about, and his tone didn't even change, and yet it really felt like he meant it. 

"Honestly, I feel like garbage," Angel said. "I just keep thinking about it over and over and I feel so fucking stupid."

"Yeah, uh…" There was a pause. "Do you wanna listen to a song I've been working on? I dunno, might make you feel better."

"The Orpheus one?" 

"Nah, it's an older song. It's part of this concept album Mar and I were planning about the Trojan war, but Mar moved before we could finish it."

"What's it about?" 

"You know who Achilles is, right?"

"Uh… he had a weak ankle, right? That's why we called it the Achilles Tendon." 

"I mean… that's the really short version of it, yeah. So Achilles had this best friend, Patroclus, who gets killed by Hector of Troy. And Hector takes Patroclus' armor, and that pisses Achilles off, so they fight. So Achilles wins and kills Hector, but instead of giving him funeral rites he ties him by the ankles and drags his body around outside the walls of Troy." 

"That sounds… intense, but okay." 

"Cool, hold on a minute." 

There was some scuffling in the background, and when Demie came back it was clear he was on speakerphone. 

"Okay, ready?" He asked. 

"Sure. Hit me." 

Angel could hear an acoustic guitar. The melody wasn't what he'd expected - he'd expected something fast and brutal, like the stuff he'd heard at the concert. But instead this was slow, plodding, like a funeral march. 

Then Demie's voice came in, low and resonant. Even over the phone it made Angel's sternum vibrate. He sang slowly, deliberately, drawing notes out in long holds. 

The lyrics talked about Achilles, about the pain he felt. It described how he lost a half of his soul, and how he sought revenge. But it wasn't a huge, bombastic revenge - it was a bitter one. The Achilles that Demie sang about couldn't heal the hole in his heart, and so he took it out on Hector. He didn't hate Hector, though, and he felt shame for the way he treated Hector's dead body, and he knew it would lead to his own eventual downfall.

It was a song about the cyclical nature of revenge, and of loss. Angel didn't even notice until the song ended that he was crying. Not silent tears, either - he was actually sobbing. 

There was a clatter as Demie picked up the phone again. 

"What'd you think?" He asked. 

"Holy shit, man," Angel choked. "Holy shit that was so fucking deep." 

"How'd'ya feel?"

"I--" Angel wanted to say that he felt like shit, obviously. He had already felt like garbage and then Demie had gone and sung an incredibly depressing song to him, clearly it would just make things worse. 

And yet, it hadn't. He didn't feel bad at all. In fact, he felt fine. Good, even. Like he was rejuvenated. It was as if the previous night hadn't even happened. 

"I feel better," he admitted.

"Cool. Hey, uh… be careful and stuff, or whatever." 

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks." 

"Cool, see ya." 

"Okay. Thanks. B--" The line went dead before he could tell Demie goodbye. 

He sighed, turning over onto his back. His entire body felt lighter, and the tune of the song swirled around in his head. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but it was like Demie's voice had healed him. His hangover was gone, his anxiety was gone. He wouldn't necessarily say that he was happy, but he felt… good. 

There was one thing he was certain of, though: he was falling fast and hard for Demie. Not in the parasocial internet crush way he'd felt about Clayton Howard, but in an organic way. Demie had been there for him twice now, despite virtually being strangers, and each time he'd come away feeling better. 

Not to mention, the way Demie had sung about Achilles and Patroclus had been so powerfully, painfully gay. 

He wanted so badly to see Demie in person.

#writing #writers on tumblr #original fiction #gay fiction #lgbt fiction #original characters #wright's writing #w:demie and angel

[aether--system]

Arguments? In the DID Community? It’s more likely than you think

Don’t scroll away!!

Okay so I know this is Controversial Stuff, but please read this!

It’ll mean a lot to us.

And it’s not a mean post.

People change, and anger is reconciled. We’re now able to see this argument with more neutrality, so I’m just gonna analyze this situation, then give our opinion at the end.

The primary issue is between traumagenic systems and endogenic systems

Our definitions:

Traumagenic- comes from trauma

Endogenic- comes from within (ie, without trauma)

System- person with alters

The Traumagenics do not think the Endogenics should be in the same community as them, and should stay away from all System media. They think that the Endogenics should not exist since they claim to be trauma-free.

The Endogenics do not want to be isolated, and they continue to exist despite the Traumagenics’ displeasure. They do not know exactly how they came to be this way, but here they are.

People are starting to get real fighty about this, and it’s gotten boring and annoying, tbh. Everyone has said what they have to say, and now it’s just gone to name calling.

It’s made us (a Traumagenic) become detached from the community. A community we should feel proud of.

But now that means we can look in more on this argument and really pick at it from both sides.

So here’s our opinion; the opinion of a Liberal Arts 5th year undergrad specializing in art and psychology with a strong backing in biology:

Keep in mind, this is our opinion.

Our

Opinion.

As blunt and unusual as it is.

Not facts.

So don’t come trying to fight with us.

And for the love of Deities, don’t bring gender into this.

This is nothing like the topic of gender.

We need more research in Endogenics. Frankly, there’s no other way to put it. All we have about these people are some articles from religious hoots on a sketchy-ass website. Nobody is gonna listen to that!

I know that’s a hard pill to swallow, but we need real articles/research from people with real degrees and real credit in the field of psychology. That’s the only way that we will get both sides of this conflict to be resolved. Like a peace treaty.

We do not need more fights. Legit.

I know that there are really awful attitudes on both sides. There are extremists on both sides.

But now is a time to shut up and begrudgingly read the other’s side of the argument to learn about them. To try to see where they’re really coming from (thought pattern wise).

Additionally, we do believe that some Endogenics are actually Traumagenics who are in flippant denial of their trauma. They will come to that realization on their own and realize that they made themselves look like a total moron on social media. But, some Endogenics really do seem to press on and appear genuine. That’s made us curious. So now we’re going read some articles and websites on Endogenics to see what’s up with them. Try to gather information and stories to try to gain a better understanding of them.

And while we do that, we’re gonna be constantly hoping that a real psychologist does a real study of Endogenics, so that we don’t have to fucking do it ourselves when we get our Master’s degree.

Just stop this fucking fighting. You’re turning beautiful things ugly.

Are you wondering what you could do now?

Here’s our advice:

Traumagenics: Anger is a big part of this for you. You feel invaded, and made a joke of. Take a step back and breathe for a moment. Try to identify and examine what makes you angry, never stop asking why, even to yourselves. Once you’re sufficiently clear-minded, start to read up on the other side of this fight. See what makes them tick, but in a polite way. There’s nothing bad about looking at the other side of a fence. You can pretend you’re a spy for us, and that you’re sneaking around in enemy territory; that might make it more enticing. Please send us good articles you find!

Endogenics: I know that you do not see your alters as a disorder. However, neurotypicals do not have alters. There must be something unique in your brain that makes you the way you are! If you’re seeing a good therapist or open-minded doctor for other ailments, please consider bringing it up as a study proposal. Or tell your psychology friends to reach out to their sources! It’ll be awesome to have something solid for your side and believable for the other side of the argument. In the meantime, please understand this; these people are lashing out at you because they are angry. Try to see where that anger is coming from. People aren’t just aggressive like this, no matter how much they want to believe that they are. They’re hurting somewhere, really really badly. This is the only way they can get that hurt out currently. If you can identify that right off the bat, their anger just seems like nothing anymore. And if there are articles you know of/find, you can send them to us too! (Thank you to those who have- we like to hoard information like the dragons we are lmao)

Both: We’ve seen some serious venom on both sides, dudes. Knock it off please. Try to isolate your emotions from your logical thoughts. Irrational Trauma Anger makes everything get twisted up and weird. Remove anger from your thought equation, and you’ll have an easier time with everything. And that’s something you can apply to daily stuff too!

And please remember! You can be nice to someone you disagree with!!!! People are not completely defined by one thing they disagree on!!!

A trait you share is being “systems”. That doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon. You’ll have to coexist, even if it’s begrudgingly. We’re not saying we’re pro- or anti- anything. We’re 3rd Party on this. I’m gonna think of a really cool name for it.

(TW) Trauma Dump

-

And don’t you dare come at us with trauma minimization bullshit or calling us fake. We have vivid memories of being drugged and raped by our uncle when we were 3 years old. And don’t get me started on the psychological warfare of our parents’ lengthy divorce. We’ve been recognized and diagnosed by multiple medical professionals throughout multiple medical fields. We have pinpointed traumatic events that caused some of the central alters, and we are recovering from all this as we can.

-

(End TW)

TLDR; Chill out and try to see where your enemy’s heart lies. See who they really are; behind the anger and hissing. Learn about the other.

And don’t forget that we’re 3rd party and do not wish to fight either side here. We’re Switzerland in this! Neutral! Party! We literally will not be mean to you unless you’re mean to us! That’s a promise!

Lastly, we apologize of you’ve narrowed down which vent blog is ours. Some of us were just really angry. Nowadays it’ll mostly be just vent art that’s not proper for our main blog lol

And yes, we did write this when we were very stoned and very coconscious.

Thank you all SO. Much for reading all of this ❤️

We love you all and thank you for 2k subs on here 😍

-The Aether System

#dissociative identity disorder #mental health #mental illness #dissociation #mental health awareness #d.i.d. #actuallydissociative #did #alters #actuallydid #endogenic system #endogenic #traumagenic system #traumagenic #actually traumagenic #actually endogenic #headmates #system #natural system #plurals #plural #plurality #multiplicity #dissociative disorder

[netflixmomma516]

Her Secrets 4 - 13RW Series

Part 1    Part 2   Part 3

I pull out my phone and see 20 missed calls all from Jeff, Jess, and Scott. Only 8 voicemails though. I decide not to listen to them. I pull myself together enough to drive home. 

I still see the unfamiliar car in the driveway, but at the moment I don't care. I cut the engine by the car, and I take a deep breath. My body is so exhausted. I touch my belly, "we're okay." I whisper to the growing baby in my belly.

I make my way into the house, and see my dad and the woman standing in the kitchen. I don't care about my father's love life, it's his life, he's plenty old enough to make his own decisions without telling his 18-year-old daughter. 

"Oh hey YNN, I wasn't expecting you home so soon." My dad looks shocked that I just caught him in an affair. "The smell of alcohol didn't agree with the baby," I said not trying to hide anything from this woman, even if my dad was probably trying too. "Oh well, YN this is Janet." I half smiled at her. She had beautiful chocolate brown hair, with hazel eyes and tan skin; looking about my dad's age. "Nice to meet you, I've heard a lot about you." Oh great. Those words are never good to hear. "Nice to meet you, but don't let me interrupt, I'm going to bed." I quickly say backing up to the stairs 

"Do you want food YNN? I know my grand-baby needs something to eat." I smile at my dad, a real genuine smile. 

I feel like the first time in 16 years my dad is actually concerned about me. "Sure." Food does sound really good since I did throw my lunch up. "Give me 5 minutes and I'll bring it up to you." My dad tells me as he was opening the fridge to pull out leftovers. I smiled at him.

I made my way to my room to change into pajamas. I curl up in bed and turn on the TV.

I hear a knock on my door, "come in." I yell to who I'm assuming is my dad on the other side. The door opens to reveal my half-gray-haired father. He has a plate of food in his hands and hands me it. I gladly take it. "So what happened at the party?" He asked concerned. "Nothing, we got there and I just smelled the alcohol and bugs didn't like it," I said finally taking a bite of the delicious food in front of me. "Did you just run off or did you tell your friends why you threw up?" "I just ran off," I answered with some food still in my mouth. "I know you want me to keep the secret too, but it's going to get out eventually." My dad makes a good point. "I'll take the risk," I tell him. He looks at me with understanding and kisses my forehead.

--

"YNN wake up!" I hear my dad yell from behind the door. I roll my eyes and yell groggily, still half asleep. "What?" My dad opens the door, "you have a visitor by the name of Jessica." Dad looked at me confused as I gave him the same look. I walk down to the front door and see my friend looking at me. She runs for me and embraces me in a bear hug. I stumble backward at the hard contact.

She grabs my shoulders and looks at me in the eyes, "are you okay?" I smile at her. "Yeah." I laugh and pull her into my room. "We've all been calling and texting you like crazy." She informed me like I didn't know. "I know." I huff sitting on my unmade bed. "Why have you been ignoring us? Especially me. I thought we really had a bonding moment last night." She said sitting next to me. "I didn't mean to Jess, I must've eaten something bad for lunch, and I didn't want to be sick around everyone. When I got home I went straight to bed." I lie straight through my pearly white teeth. "Oh, I completely understand. You should've told us you didn't feel good." "I didn't want to ruin the mood, everyone was so ready to party," I confess. I didn't want to ruin the mood.

"Well, Jeff and Scott were worried sick about you." She confesses to me. "Do you feel better today?" She asks hopefully. "Yeah, a lot." "Well good, because you need to be ready for your date with Jeff." I looked at her confused. How the hell did she know about my date, because I didn't tell her? 

"Jeff told me he was taking you to the lake." She said as if she read my mind. "You should feel special he's taking you to the lake." I looked at her super confused this time. Why should I feel special? What is so special about a lake? "The lake is about an hour drive from here, when he gets super stressed out or just needs to be alone he goes up to the lake." I used to have a spot like that but mine was a creek about 10 minutes from my house. No one knew that was my place to escape except one person. That one person ruined my life.

- I start running, I run til my legs give out from underneath me. Sam and I had a fight, ever since I was 14 I go to the creek. I'm sitting by the waterfall, listening to the water rushing down the rocks, an owl hooting up in the trees. The moon seemed to light everything up. 

I see a black truck make its way down the road. I instantly freeze. The truck stops, "YN?" I hear a male voice slowly approach. "Andy?" I ask recognizing the voice. "What are you doing out here?" He asks as he takes a seat next to me. I shrug, "Sam and I got into a fight again." I huff wiping the tears away. 

"Whenever I need to get away from life for a little bit, I come out here. No one rarely comes out here." I confess and shrug my shoulders. My hands go in the water and make circles. Andy quietly sits next to me.

"I promise I won't tell anyone about this place for you." He smiles at me. "Thanks, Andy." I lean on him. -

I looked at her with a smile. "I'm ready," I say unsure if I believe my words. I'm scared. I'm scared of getting hurt again. "Good, let's go eat and then I'll get you ready." I smile, "okay." We walk out of my room and walk down the stairs to see just my dad in the kitchen on the phone. I smile at my dad as he looked super stressed, yelling at whoever is on the other end. Probably work stuff that I don't get. 

I shrug at Jess as she gave me a questioning look because of my dad. She shakes off her look as I open the fridge and freezer. I hand her some waffles. I feel my stomach rumble. I quickly pop the waffles in the toaster. "Do you want some coffee?" I whisper to her, trying not to interrupt my dads yelling match on the phone. "Sure," she smiles at me. I quickly start the coffee maker.

My phone rings on the counter, indicating a text. I grab it and see it's Jeff. My smile instantly appears on my face. There's just something about this guy. 

Jeff; Hey YNN, are we still on for tonight? 

I feel a surge of guilt about last night. 

Me; Absolutely. 

I will apologize on the drive to the lake. 

I want to see if he will believe a bullshit lie I come up with. I might stick to the lie I told Jess that I just ate something bad for lunch and didn't want to ruin the party. "I'm going to pick an outfit for you while you go shower." Jess pushes me into my bathroom. I laugh. "Okay. Nothing too over the top please." I smile at my new best friend. "Of course." She flips her hair over her shoulder. I shut my bathroom door, and strip down and turn on the water. Not too hot. I turn sideways in the mirror to see if I can tell if I'm gaining any weight. A little pudgy but nothing drastic yet. I rub my belly as I smile at my growing baby bump. It doesn't matter what happened, I still love this little baby that is growing inside me.

-- I run to the nearest bathroom, thankfully it's empty, I lock myself in the stall and lost control. It all came out. I sink beside the toilet and start sobbing. "Why?" I instantly knew. -

Jess hands me my underwear and bra first as I stand before her in just my towel. "Okay here," she hands me a really cute outfit. "Thank you. It's so cute Jess." I hug her as I finished zipping my jacket halfway. "You're welcome. Now sit." She pulls out my vanity chair. --

"You look perfect. You don't look like you're trying too hard at all." Jess smiles at me, as I smile back at her in the full-length mirror. I'm still super nervous about this date with Jeff. I look at my reflection, my curly hair cascading down my back. My natural makeup complementing my eyes perfectly. "Jeff will be a fool if he doesn't think you're beautiful right now." I smile at Jess and plop onto my bed next to her. I have 20 minutes left before he was going to pick me up for our date. I pull out my phone and scroll through my social media.

"So did you tell Scott what happened?" Jess interrupts my reading about something not important. 

To be honest, I haven't even thought about Scott in the last 24 hours, my date with Jeff has gotten me too preoccupied. 

"Honestly haven't thought about it," I say truthfully. "You at least need to let him know you're okay." Jess retorts. I huff thinking back to seeing him and Chloe flirting at our lockers. 

"Why? It's not like he cares he's probably with Chloe anyway." I say bitchy, at the ache in my heart that wasn't there 1 minute prior. "Why would you say that?" She asks worried about my switch in demeanor. "Jess you didn't see the way Scott looked at her or Chloe looked at him yesterday in the hall or even lunch." I huff trying not to be too butthurt about this stupid crush. "YNN, Chloe is just jealous because she found out that Scott kind of likes you, and he invited you to guys night at Bryce's place earlier this week." She confesses. "No girl is allowed at guys night, not even me and I'm Justin's girlfriend." She continues. "Chloe sees you as a threat." She looks at me sympathetically. "But honestly you have nothing on her. At least you're not a conniving bitch." She laughs. "Hey, you don't know me that well yet," I say half-joking. 

What will everyone think when my secret does come out. I know it's inevitable that it will get out. What do I say when I gain 20 pounds in the next 3 months? I've been binge eating because my dad actually cooks homemade meals.

I hear a knock on my door, knowing it's my dad, I casually say, "come in." Sure enough, it was my dad, "So am I meeting this boy before he goes out with my daughter?" He smiles at me. Wonder how he knew I was going out tonight? Maybe he overheard Jess and mines conversation. I smile at my over-protective father, "If you want." I shrug, not really caring if my dad meets Jeff. Jeff is a great guy and he seems like a boy my dad would love to see me go out with. "Of course I want to meet the young man that is taking my daughter out tonight." He smiles the same smile I have. "Okay," I smile back. 

I look back down to my phone and quickly type.

Me; Hey Jeff so my dad wants to meet you before you take me out. 

I send it. 

Jeff; Of course. 

My butterflies come back. The first date since everything happened 2 months ago. 

-- Sam hands me a red solo cup, "what is it?" I ask. "Try it." He says. I take a sip, my nose scrunches and I instantly get a warm feeling. I smile knowing exactly what it is. I take another drink. --

I hear the doorbell and I hurry to the door, but my dad beats me to it. I huff as my dad opens the door revealing the tall man. He immediately smiles at my dad, "Hello Mr. YLN, I'm Jeff Atkins." He holds his hand out for my dad to shake. "Nice to meet you Jeff, but you can call me YDN." He takes his hand and shakes it. My nerves quickly subside seeing my dad impressed with his handshake. 

My dad looks at me just as they let go of their handshake. "Hi YN," Jeff smiles his perfect smile at me. His plain white shirt covered by a black jacket. I smile at him. "Hey Jeff," I casually say, trying to calm my butterflies in my belly. "Hey Jeff," Jess interrupts our moment. "Hey, Jess." He smiles a friendly smile. I didn't know guys had a different smile for everyone, my dads was a nervous one, mine was a relaxed perfect smile, and Jess's was a friendly one.

I couldn't help but feel more compelled by this guy.

"So where are you going?" My dad interrupts everyone and turns his attention to Jeff. Jeff's eyes immediately meet my dad's gaze. "The lake, it's about an hour North of here." He says honestly. My dad quickly shakes his head, "What time should I expect YNN home?" He presses again, "11?" Jeff says as more of a question. "Okay, have fun." I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding. I smile at my dad. This is the first time I've ever seen him act like a normal dad to an 18-year-old daughter. 

"Are you ready YNN?" Jeff asks holding his hand out to me. I smile a relaxed smile and grab his hand. "I love you, dad." He bends down a little so I can kiss his cheek. "Love you, be careful." "I will take good care of her I promise," Jeff answers for me. My dad shakes his head in confirmation at Jeff.

We walk out to Jeff's Chevy Silverado, Jess trailing behind us. "Have fun guys." She says to us as she climbs into her Rover. "We will," Jeff answers. I smile. He opens the door for me to climb into his truck. He closes the door when I'm securely in. I blush, no guy has ever done that for me. He climbs into the driver's side. He huffs. "Hi YN." He looks over at me and smiles to me. "Hi, Jeff." I smile at his nervousness. He starts backing out onto the main road.

"So how are you?" He asks confident, all the nerves that were surrounding us just seconds ago disappear. Relaxed. That's a good word to describe how I feel. "I'm good, I feel a lot better." Remembering my run out last night. I huff preparing myself to lie. "I'm sorry about last night..." I trail off. 

He grabs my hand that was in my lap, he intertwines our fingers, "It's okay, Jess told me your lunch didn't agree with you." I smile guilty, hopefully, he can’t see the guilt in my smile. "I completely understand YNN. I just wish you would've told me, I would've gone with you." He looked at me with a sympathetic look and looked back to the road. His fingers still intertwined in my mine. I smile at his huge hands that swallow my child like hands.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks taking me off-guard. I cant tell him what I'm really thinking about, which is if only he knew the truth would I be going to his favorite place to hide out. The answer is no. He's 18 years old he has his whole future planned out; I assume. "Thinking about how you're taking me to your place." He looked at me confused, "What do you mean my place?" I huff, remembering my place, and how that place is now a haunted memory of what happened to me. "The place no one knows about, the place you go to too hide out from the world. When the world gets to much for you to take, you go there and feel like everything is good with the world again."

I huff remembering when my dad told me he was leaving I ran for a half hour to the creek. I just heard all the sounds of nature, the creeks water talking to the birds in the trees. "Everyone knows about it. Just no one is allowed to come with me when I go up there." His grip tightens on the wheel, like I hit a huge nerve saying that. "Why?" I simply ask. That was like me, no one was ever allowed to go with me down there. "Because when I'm in a bad mood, no one wants to be around me." He confesses. His grip loosens just a little bit. I drop the subject. I'll ask a little more later. I might confess my secret place to him. I'll keep one little detail out though. 

- "YFN!" My dad yells. "No, dad you're leaving me!" I scream with tears streaming down my freckled face. "To make a better life for us." He explains. "No, to make a better life for yourself. To get away from me, my mom." 

I cant stand here anymore. I run out the front door. "YN! YN!" I hear my dad scream after me. I run, I run til my little legs cant do it anymore. I continue to walk. The trees get thicker. The creek is rushing past me. I collapse next to the creek. The birds whistle all around me, the sound of the creek rushing past without a care in the world. No one can find me.

#13 reasons why #13rw #13 reasons why gifs #13 reasons why imagine #13 reasons why imagines #jeff atkins #jessica davis #jeff atkins imagine #scott reed #scott reed imagine

[roronoaxd]

Hello, me again! Kurodai where everyone thinks they are dating but they aren't even though they spend every free moment together and cuddle more than most friends.

Daichi is tucked away under Kuroo’s arm, his head resting nicely in the crook of his neck, and he could just close his eyes and fall asleep if they weren’t watching a movie. Actually, it sounded quite tempting. It’s been a long day, and though he’s always up for dumb comedies, sleep is also nice, and if he was to close his eyes for a bit, Kuroo would probably wake him up before his favorite part came on anyway… but no. Daichi forced himself to stay awake, fighting the temptation to close his eyes and let naptime win.

Kuroo’s hand ran up and down his arm, stopping to give him a slight pinch on the forearm, jolting Daichi awake for sure. Daichi pouted, turning to bury his head further into Kuroo, mumbling out a protest. “You’re missing out.” Kuroo teased, before reaching to pull the covers over their laps and fend off the cold. “I don’t care…” Daichi complained. “You gotta stay up. Bo will be home soon, and you promised you’d help me dye his hair.”“I regret it now. Want a nap.” “Fine… nap, I’ll wake you when he gets here.”“Thank you.” Daichi turned, his own arms coming to wrap around Kuroo’s torso as he melted into his best friend’s side, letting sleep win and closing his eyes for a short nap.

Tetsurou sighed to himself, relaxing to Sawamura’s soft snores as he slept away. He tried focusing on the screen, though the movie wasn’t as interesting anymore. Instead, his eyes were focused on his phone, flipping through social media platforms and answering the occasional text. A key inserted into the front door caused Tetsurou to look up briefly, “Oh, hey Oikawa.”“Tetsu-chan! Hello!” Oikawa called out, stopping in his tracks after entering the apartment, “Oh… sorry, didn’t realize Sawamura was here and sleeping. I’ll be quiet now.”“It’s fine… how was class?”“Class was great! As expected from astronomy!”“When Bokuto gets here we’re dying his hair.”“Ooh, it’s about time. His roots look terrible.”“You can’t say things like that, you know how he gets about his hair…”“Yeah, yeah…” Oikawa waved off, “I’m off to my room, let me know when he gets here.”“Sure thing.”

Tetsurou turned back to his phone, scrolling away as he waited for his other roommate to come home. He got a text from another friend, Daichi’s roommate, in the meantime.

From: Moniwa-kun

> Stress baking again! Any requests? Dai’s not answering me back!

> Great choice, tell the bf I said hello~~

Tetsurou nodded his head, making a mental note to tell Sawamura when he woke him up about Moniwa’s greeting. He then received a snapchat from Kita, Daichi’s third roommate. It was a photo of him and Moniwa in aprons holding up whisks.

@kita_shin : don't forget pizza tomorrow at 8pm

>> @kurokuro : dai and i will be there !

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto called out a he entered their dorm. Kuroo greeted him back and then turned to shake Sawamura awake, but instead let him be, “Are you all ready to help me? I have a date with Ushijima tomorrow, so we have to get started.”“Oh yeah? Congrats, Bo.” Kuroo stated.“Yeah, i’m super nervous about it though.”“How come? You’ve hung out with Ushijima before.”“Yeah, but he’s Sawamura’s friend, more than yours, so by association we’re not that close. There’s still a lot to learn about him. Oh! I know!” Bokuto hooted, “You and Sawamura can come on my date too! We can double date!”“Double date? Why would Sawamura and I--”“Oh, come on, Kuroo! You can tell me that you and Sawamura are dating, it doesn’t have to be a secret anymore.”“Wait what?”“Everyone knows it by now. You can stop with the act.”“It’s not an act! Sawamura and I aren’t dating!”“Well, why not? You two are always together, and even now you’re all cuddled together like boyfriends!”“...W-what makes you even think that I like him that way?”“Oh ho? You so do…” Bokuto teased, eyebrows waggling suggestively.

#kurodai #ashleydoesstuff #prompts #thatishogwash

[wizardwritings]

The Accidental Sext

Overview: Wrong Number AU. Piss drunk, you decided it would be a good idea to send a raunchy photo of yourself to your ex. But as fate had it, you sent it to the wrong number.

Word Count: About 4,500.

Warning(s): Swearing, drinking, drunk texts, some suggestive content, slight sexting, so much fluff. No smut, but should be 16+ to read.

Author’s Note: Modern, Muggle AU; Sirius Black x Reader. I was reading some “I accidentally sent nudes to my boss” horror stories and this idea came into my head. (Sirius is not her boss.) Enjoy! ;)

Amidst the headache-inducing strobe lights and the erratic beat of the music, you knew only one thing was certain.

You looked hot.

Now, that thought might’ve been shaped by the influence of alcohol, but you didn’t let that deter you from taking an unhealthy amount of photos with Marlene and Lily.

Once the flash went off, you tossed your phone into your bra, Marlene cheering as she ordered another round of shots.

Taking the glass from her, you threw your head back, the tequila burning its way down your throat.

“Fuck,” you bite out, shaking your head. “This is actually starting to taste good.”

Marlene smirked, resting her thigh against a barstool. “That’s how you know you’re wasted.”

Grasping the edges of the bar table, you leaned forward, revealing more cleavage than what was deemed decent in a public area, but in your drunken stupor, you couldn’t care less.

“Next round’s on me,” you called, turning your head back slightly.

Ordering three more shots, you returned to Lily and Marlene, passing out the glasses. The night went on as the three of your drunk yourselves into oblivion, way past the point of caring about the consequences.

By the fifth shot, you lost count of how many you had in total. You knew you were being reckless and irresponsible, but in the moment, you didn’t care. You were still getting over a heartbreak. Just last month, your boyfriend of almost two years, Lucius, cheated on you with someone who looked like she could be his fucking sister.

“I need another shot,” you murmured, trying to shake the thought out of your head. If you could still remember what happened, you didn’t drink enough.

Taking the glass out of your hands, Lily placed it back on the bar, ignoring your pout as she stood next to you.

“I think that’s enough drinking for the night, babe,” she said gently. “We don’t want you blacking out now, do we?”

She continued to talking in a coaxing tone, but your focus was on something else.

You knew it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. Lucius Malfoy would never go clubbing in this part of town. He was too much of a self-entitled prick for that. But still… From the back, that man with the white-blond hair could pass off as your ex-boyfriend.

Realizing you weren’t paying attention to her spiel, Lily stopped talking, looking over in the direction you face.

“Oh.”

As if he felt himself being stared at, the man looked over at the bar, smirking once he caught your eye.

With a scoff, you shook your head. “I need a drink. Now.”

“Y/N,” said Lily firmly, still keeping her gaze on the back of his head, “that’s not Lucius.”

“I know. But I still want another drink.”

Making her way across the bar with a glass in hand, Marlene returned. Taking in your focused expressions, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Who are we looking at?” she asked, scanning the room until her eyes landed on a white-blonde mop of hair. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “It’s not Lucius, though. Don’t worry.”

“Please, if Malfoy were here, I wouldn’t be the one who needs to worry.” Wordlessly, she passed you the drink. You needed it more than she did, that was certain. “If Malfoy were here, my fists would have already met his fucking face.”

That earned a smile out of you.

“I don’t doubt that,” you said, exchanging looks with Lily.

Suddenly, Marlene took the drink from your hand, placing it onto the bar table, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“You know what, Y/N?” she stated, not waiting for you to answer. “You’re hot, you’re single, and you came here to forget about that tosser.”

“Marlene’s right,” Lily piped up, the corner of her mouth tilting upwards. “So let’s dance.”

Elbowing her way to the center of the dance floor with you and Marlene in tow, Lily threw her hands up in the air, swaying her hips.

Laughing, you followed suit, quickly finding the rhythm in the loud music. It wasn’t long until you felt a pair of hands make their way around your waist, floating there lightly, in question. Looking back, you smirked, eyes trailing over his muscular body and pretty face. You leaned backwards, pressing yourself into him.

He wasn’t your type, exactly, but he was handsome enough. Plus, you were fairly sure you wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning.

As you felt his hand roam from the bottom of your breast to your hip, an idea formed in your mind.  Once the song came to an end, you gently pushed his hands off you, sending him an awkward smile.

“Thanks for the dance,” you yelled over the music.

He gave you a confused look, wondering why you stopped so abruptly, but shrugged, nonetheless. “Not a problem.”

Once he was out of sight, you pulled your phone out from your bra, turning the front-facing camera on. What if you were to accidentally send a suggestive picture to Lucius, pretending it was meant for your boyfriend?

Sure, you didn’t have boyfriend, nor would the text be sent on accident. But what Lucius didn’t know wouldn’t kill him… Unfortunately.

Checking yourself out through your phone screen, you messed your hair up, making the curls fall across your face in an effortless manner. Adjusting your dress, you placed your cleavage on full display, the tight fit of the bodice hugging the curves of your breasts.

You ran your hand up your abdomen, gently cupping your breast, lips parting slightly as you took the photo.

“Damn,” you whispered to yourself, a satisfied smile on your face. “I look hot.”

Pulling your dress back up, you made your way to Marlene and Lily, flashing your phone screen at them with a wide grin in your face.

“Guys! Look.”

Lily took your phone from you, holding it in between her and Marlene.

“Fuck, I’m so glad I’m bisexual,” Marlene said with a whistle, earning a laugh from both you and Lily. “But what is this for?”

“Well,” you drawled, trying to contain your excitement. “I have an idea!”

You explained your plan to them. You would send the photo to Lucius, then say it were meant for someone else. In your drunken state, you thought it was the perfect amount of petty.

And in their equally drunken minds, they thought so as well.

“Do it now,” Marlena urged, clapping her hands together. “Make that wanker suffer.”

Lily nodded eagerly, watching as you unlocked your phone.

“You might regret this when you wake up,” she said slowly. “But we’ll be there if you do.”

Scrolling through your contacts, you muttered an oath under your breath.

“I forgot,” you groaned, scrolling aimlessly to no avail. “I deleted his number and blocked him on all my social media accounts.”

“I don’t have it, either. I never did actually,” Marlene said with a shrug. “I’ve always hated him, to be honest.”

Snorting in amusement, you rolled your eyes. “Remind me to trust your judgement more often.”

Pulling her phone out of her clutch, Lily let out an excited squeal. The light from her screen illuminated her face, making her crazed expression seem more prominent.

“You guys are going to love me.” Lily smiled slyly. “Lucius Malfoy. Right here.”

Reciting his number to you, you typed it into your text message app, ready to send the photo.

“You’re a lifesaver, Lily! Thank you.”

The photo of your upper-half clad in a tight, black dress showed up in the textbox, your hand cupping a breast to subtly emphasize your cleavage. You had to admit, that was a good move on your part.

For on a moment, you contemplated what to type before deciding with a satisfied smirk. Showing the message to your friends, they nodded, letting out hoots and squeals of surprise and support.

Y/N: This is all for you, babe. Can’t wait for tomorrow. x

Pressing send, you bit your lip. A feeling of adrenaline coursed through your veins as you bounced on the soles of your feet. After about a minute, you sent the other texts.

Y/N: Shit, Lucius, that wasn’t meant for you.

Y/N: Fuck.

Y/N: Just ignore this.

Y/N: Sorry.

“Is this believable enough?” you pressed, showing Lily and Marlene your screen. “Will he believe I sent it on accident?”

“Yes, babe. Even I believe it,” said Lily, unable to contain her excitement. “I want to see his reply.”

You nodded, but shut your phone off, tucking it into your bra.

“We will. Tomorrow. But for the rest of the night,” you paused, smiling as one of your favorite songs started to play, “I don’t fucking care.”

- - - - -

It wasn’t everyday Sirius was woken up in the middle of the night by a sext.

Well, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, per se, but it was usually from someone he had met before. Not a complete stranger. A beautiful one, at that.

His eyes were drawn to the picture and, though he knew it was meant for someone else--someone who apparently wasn’t named Lucius--he couldn’t help but follow the curves of your breasts through the skin-tight material of the dress.

Feeling a slight rush of blood and subtle contraction of a muscle, Sirius groaned, shifting on the sofa.

“That’s a way to wake up,” he muttered, voice raspy with tiredness.

Looking to the side, he saw James’ eating popcorn on the recliner next to him. The boys were gathered around the living room, watching movies and playing video games on their phones. But for some reason, Sirius couldn’t last the night.

But once he checked his phone and saw that picture of you, he knew he was in for a wake up call.

Unknown Number: This is all for you, babe. Can’t wait for tomorrow. x

As he reread the text, he smirked to himself, wondering which lucky son of a bitch it was really meant for.

Sirius: Wrong number, perhaps?

Sirius: I’m not Lucius. And although I am a babe, I’m not sure I’m the “babe” this was meant for.

Sirius: But, damn. What a pleasant surprise. They don’t know what they’re missing, princess.

Scrolling back up to the photo of you, he took a closer look at your face. Your aura of innocence didn’t seem to match the suggestive pose, but if anything, Sirius saw that as even more of a turn on.

Behind him, he heard a low whistle. Turning around, Sirius spotted James carrying a bowl of fresh popcorn into the living room, taking a peek over Sirius’ shoulder.

“Damn,” said James, popping a piece into his mouth as he nodded at Sirius. “Who is she?”

Taking a handful for himself, Sirius shrugged. “No clue.”

Reading through the texts, James furrowed his eyebrows, chucking a kernel at Sirius’ head with full force.

“Ow!” Sirius rubbed the side of his head with the palm of his hand. “Mate-- What the fuck?”

Rushing over to the other side of the sofa, James placed the bowl on the coffee table and took a seat next to Sirius, the noise attracting the attention of their other flatmates.

“You can’t flirt with her,” James insisted, rereading the messages with a shake of his head. “This was probably meant for her boyfriend.”

“So?”

James sighed, exasperated. “Padfoot-- You don’t flirt with girls who have boyfriends unless you want to get punched.”

“I won’t get punched,” said Sirius, looking over at the curious faces of Remus and Peter. “This girl accidentally sent me a sext and James doesn’t approve of the way I responded.”

Tossing his phone to the pair, Sirius lounged back on the couch, propping a foot up on the coffee table. Shrugging, Remus took a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

“Maybe it wasn’t meant for a boyfriend,” Remus stated, scrolling through the messages and avoiding the picture. “How do you even send a nude to the wrong person?”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, thinking about the incident with his old professor. “It’s easier than you think, Moony.”

Taking his phone back from Peter, he placed it face down on the table next, trying to seem nonchalant. Sirius grabbed the television remote, turning the volume up.

“We’ll see what she says eventually. If she doesn’t reply, maybe she is seeing someone else.” Sirius tossed his hair back. “But if she does reply… Then I guess I’m one lucky son of a bitch.”

Sharing a snort of laughter, they got comfortable in their seats before the movie started.

“Why do you always get the hot ones?” Peter asked, folding his arms in a teasing manner. “I’m lucky if I get anyone.”

Sirius reached over and ruffled the back of Peter’s head. “All in good time, Wormtail.”

“In the meanwhile,” James chimed in, wiggling his eyebrows, “you have us.”

“Great.”

And as the movie went on, Sirius let his focus shift to the action on screen, trying to push your text to the back of his mind. But every time his phone lit up, his heartbeat quickened, wondering if it was you.

Not that he would ever admit it, but he really was hoping you’d reply.

- - - - -

The following day, you woke up with a hangover and regret.

Last night was all one funny dream, right? There was no way you sent what you think you did.

Head pounding, you rolled over in your bed, reaching out for a bottle of water. Your head felt as if you drank to point of oblivion, but sadly, you remembered every detail of the night.

“Fuck me,” you groaned, trying to stand up to go to the bathroom. “I’m never drinking again.”

That was a lie, of course. You told yourself that every time you got a hangover and, every time, you never seemed to learn.

After washing up, taking a few painkillers, and chugging more water, you decided you should probably stop putting off having to deal with the consequences of sending a drunk sext to your ex-boyfriend and picked up your phone.

Sitting criss-cross on the living room sofa, you glared down at the screen, not wanting to turn it on. You wanted to wait for Lily and Marlene to look at the texts with you, but you knew they were still soundly asleep in their rooms-- When they got hungover, they didn’t wake up until dinner time.

So you did it yourself.

With a deep breath, you unlocked your phone, ready to see what consequences faced your wake.

The best case scenario was the messages all failed to send. The worst case? Lucius took screenshots of your texts and sent them to all his arsehole friends.

Bracing yourself, you opened one eye, peering at the screen through blurry vision.

Unknown Number: Wrong number, perhaps?

Unknown Number: I’m not Lucius. And although I am a babe, I’m not sure I’m the “babe” this was meant for.

A feeling of relief coursed through you. Lucius didn’t see the picture after all. But as you read on, you wondered, Then who did?

Unknown Number: But, damn. What a pleasant surprise. They don’t know what they’re missing, princess.

You bit your lip. Really, you could’ve just deleted the texts and pretend this never happened. The lighting was dark enough that if you were to say that wasn’t you in the photo, it might've been believable. Yet, you found yourself typing a reply.

Y/N: This isn’t Lucius?

That was a it. A simple three-letter text message, but it left you tapping your fingers nervously along the arm of the sofa.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

Unknown Number: Nope, this is Sirius.

Unknown Number: Good morning, by the way. ;)

Y/N: Sirius? Like the star in that one constellation? Right.

You scoffed. What kind of name was that? You were definitely being catfished. Still, you added his contact information into your phone.

Y/N: And get that winky face away from me.

Sirius: Someone’s not a morning person. Have a hangover or something?

Y/N: I do, actually. And I’ve been meaning to say…

Y/N: Sorry about that picture. And that text. It really wasn’t meant for you, Sirius. Or whatever your real name is. It shouldn’t have been sent at all, honestly.

Y/N: I had a few too many drinks and I typed the wrong number and ugh. It’s just stupid. Sorry.

You paused. Most people had a fear of double-messaging, but here you were, sending text after text with no shame. You figured not much could be worse than sending a sensual picture to a complete stranger, anyway.

Sirius: Is my name really that odd?

Sirius: It probably is, now that I think about it. My family is full of pretentious pricks who have equally pretentious names.

Sirius: But anyway, no apologies necessary. The photo made my night, actually. ;)

Your nose crinkled at his implication.

“Boys,” you muttered.

Y/N: Okay. You can delete this chat from your phone now.

Y/N: Bye.

Sirius: What???

You laughed at his frantic response, rolling your eyes as you saw the three dots at the bottom of your screen.

Sirius: You’re just leaving me like this? You make my heart hurt, princess.

Y/N: Well, you are a stranger. I don’t talk to strangers.

Y/N: Now, goodbye, Sirius.

Tossing your phone to the side, you stood up to grab an orange from your kitchen. When you returned to the living room, your orange sliced and peeled, you saw your lockscreen was flooded with notifications.

That damned Sirius.

Sirius: We’re not strangers.

Sirius: You know my name.

Sirius: And I know how you look.

Sirius: (Very beautiful, by the way.)

Sirius: We’re practically best friends.

Y/N: I don’t think it works like that. And sure, I know your name and you know how I look…

Y/N: But you don’t know MY name and I don’t know how YOU look.

You really should stop talking to him. If this person even was a him. For all you knew, he could be a murderer tracking down your location at this very moment.

After a beat, you typed.

Y/N: You’re not a serial killer, are you?

Sirius: What? No.

Sirius: Maybe.

You didn’t reply for a few minutes. Curiosity did kill the cat.

Sirius: Princess? Are you still there?

Sirius: I was only kidding. I’ll send a picture of myself!

Sirius: If I look like a murderer you’ve seen on the news (which I won’t look like because I’m not one), you can stop talking to me.

Y/N: Sounds sketchy, but sure.

Within a minute, your phone buzzed with a new text. There was an attachment on a photo from a rather attractive looking man.

He had dark, black hair and light stubble growing on his chin. Teasingly, he stuck his tongue out between the fleshy part of his pink lips.

It would’ve looked utterly perfect if it weren’t for his neck down.

Your mouth dropped open as you saw him, cupping his pec and copying the exact same pose you made in your photo from last night.

Sirius: I don’t exactly have boobs, but these are still all for you, princess. x

In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to throw your phone across the room and scream in embarrassment. And you almost did.

But with your face burning and your lips pressed into a thin line, it seemed as if your hands had a mind of its own.

Y/N: Oh, my fucking goodness.

Y/N: I hate you.

Y/N: Bye.

Y/N: I’m never talking to you again.

Burying your face into your hands, you groaned. You knew trying to be sexy would backfire. It seemed like you just made a fool out of yourself more than anything else.

Y/N: I was drunk, okay???

Sirius: Of course.

Sirius: I’m only teasing, though. Don’t worry. It was hot.

Sirius: Best sext I’ve received in a long while.

Y/N: Now you’re just making fun of me.

Sirius: I’m not! Trust me. I woke up with a boner because of it.

Taken aback by his blunt confession, you coughed. You felt the need to hide your phone, even if you were the only one awake right now.

Y/N: Oh. I’m sorry… I think?

Sirius: No need. It was a pleasant fix.

Y/N: I bet…

Sirius: Anyway, what’s your name princess?

Sirius: I held up my end of the deal. Now it’s your turn.

Y/N: It’s Y/N.

Sirius: Y/N.

You imagined Sirius saying your name out loud, wondering how the word looked rolling off his tongue.

Shaking the thought out of your mind, you noticed the three dots on the bottom of your screen once again. You hummed.

Y/N: If you say “beautiful name for a beautiful girl” I will block you.

The dots disappeared.

You snorted.

Sirius: Oh.

Sirius: Right. What an overused pickup line.

Sirius: I was just going to say that’s a cool name.

Y/N: Of course. Thank you. I guess Sirius is a pretty cool name as well.

Sirius: Thanks, princess. ;)

Sirius: My flatmates are telling me to get my arse off the couch and run some errands, but I’ll talk to you later tonight, okay?

You felt your stomach flutter. He still wanted to talk to you? Biting your lip, you considered your response.

Sirius was an attractive man who seemed to take a liking toward you. And he lived near the same area as you, as his phone number indicated. Maybe keeping in touch wouldn’t be the worst idea…

Y/N: Okay, Sirius. I’ll text you later.

After a second’s thought, you added another line.

Y/N: :)

It was a simple little smiley face, but little did you know it was enough to make Sirius’ heart skip a beat.

- - - - -

“When are you going to meet up with him?” Marlene questioned, bouncing excitedly on the kitchen chair.

You and Sirius have been texting back and forth for a little over a week now. You looked forward to his texts so eagerly, you thought it was a little unhealthy. But no guy has made you feel this giddy in a long time. No guy has ever made your stomach churn or face blush with one simple text.

You felt like an infatuated high schooler all over again.

“I’m not sure, Mar,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t want to be the one to ask.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to be the one to ask?”

“Then I guess neither of us will ask.”

Lily snorted, interrupting the stare down between you and Marlene.

“Come on, Y/N,” laughed Lily. “Don’t you want to meet him?”

“Of course I do,” you admitted, toying with the hem of your shirt. “I just don’t want to be the one to bring it up.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw you Marlene slide your phone toward you.

“Don’t worry. You didn’t have bring it up.”

You look at her warily, feeling a sense of dread as you unlocked your phone. “And why is that, Marlene?”

She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Because I brought it up for you.”

Scanning through your phone, your gaze fell upon your most recently sent message. But it wasn’t you who sent that. It was Marlene.

Y/N: Hey, Sirius! Do you want to grab some lunch with me tomorrow?

“Oh, my gosh,” you groaned, anxiety flooding your heart with unease. “Marlene! What if he says no? What if he doesn’t want to meet me in person? What--”

“Y/N, babe,” she cut in, nodding toward the phone in your hands. “There’s only one way to find out, right?”

Lily slung an arm around your shoulder in a comforting manner. “He’ll say yes. He’d have to be a complete idiot to say no.”

“Yeah,” Marlene agreed. “And based off the texts you showed us, Sirius isn’t a complete idiot. Just half.”

You shared a laugh. You realized you were stressing out over nothing. You were two adults who enjoyed talking to each other. Why wouldn’t he say yes?

But once you heard the vibration of your phone, you squealed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I’m going to pass out.”

“Y/N! Check what he said!” Lily insisted, placing your phone in your hands.

Groaning, you unlocked it and went to the text app.

Sirius: Are you asking me out on a date?

You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth.

Y/N: Maybe?

Marlene nudged you on the side when she saw your reply.

Y/N: Okay, fine. I am.

Y/N: That’s not a problem, is it?

You were certain he could feel your heart beating erratically through the screen.

Sirius: Of course not. I’d love to go on a date with the most beautiful woman out there.

Sirius: (I’m talking about you, by the way.)

Y/N: (I figured. Thanks.)

Y/N: Anyway, are you near the cafe, Busy Bean?

Sirius: The one on 23rd Street?

Y/N: Yup.

Sirius: Yes, actually. I live only a few streets away.

You fist bumped the air in excitement, smiling and Lily and Marlene laughed at you. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it was a pleasant surprise that this was actually working out in your favor.

Y/N: Me, too! :) I’ll see you there at noon tomorrow?

Sirius: You most definitely will.

Sirius: I’m looking forward to our first date, Y/N. ;)

Now, with a wide grin spreading across your face, it was your heart’s to skip a beat.

- - - - -

As you opened the doors of Busy Bean, you were hit with a whiff of caffeine and chocolate.

It was absolute heaven.

Waving to the barista, you looked around the cafe, searching for a seat when you heard an obnoxiously loud, yet oddly endearing, voice.

“Is that Y/N? Princess, over here!”

Biting the corner of your lip, you took a deep breath. As you turned around, your eyes landed on a dark-haired, grey-eyed man with the ever-present stubble.

Sirius.

You walked over to the booth he chose, giving him a smile as you took a seat across from him.

“Hi,” you said quietly, trying not to appear nervous.

Sirius smiled, crinkles forming by his eyes. “Wow, your voice sounds even cuter than I imagined.”

“I only said one word,” you reasoned, a blush making its way onto your face.

“And look! There’s that beautiful blush that’s even cuter than I imagined.”

“Oh, God.” You covered your cheeks with the palms of your hand, pretending to stand up. “You know, maybe I’ll just walk out of here and pretend this never happened.”

Sirius laughed, his hand gently resting on your forearm. You quite liked how it felt there.

“Okay, okay,” he said in surrender. “I’ll try to stop. But it’s hard not to give out compliments when my date is so cute.”

“Sirius,” you groaned in a warning tone.

“My name sounds amazing when it’s coming out of your mouth.”

You were tempted to throw your purse at him.

He chuckled as you tried to keep a straight face, folding your arms across your chest.

“Okay, I’ll stop. If,” Sirius paused when he heard your exaggerated groan. “If you can say you don’t enjoy the compliments I give.”

Jutting your lower lip out in a slight pout, you tilted your head to the side. Begrudgingly, you murmured, “I can’t say that.”

Sirius laughed, reaching over to brush the bottom of your mouth with his thumb.

“Thought so. Now put the lip back in.” His expression sobered slightly. “I’m trying to be a gentleman and, apparently, gentlemen don’t kiss on first dates.”

“Oh.”

“And that pout is making it real hard for me not kiss you right now.”

Shrugging innocently, you flipped open your menu, holding it in front of your face. “Gentlemen are overrated.”

The corner of his mouth tilted upward in a sidewards grin. “Glad to hear that.”

Settling into a comfortable silence as you looked through the lunch options, you took your phone out. You couldn’t wait for later tonight-- You had to tell Marlene and Lily now.

Hurriedly, you pulled up the text app and typed out a message, sending it without reading it over. You wanted your focus to be on Sirius, not your phone, but you just had to tell your friends.

Y/N: Guys! How the fuck!? He’s even hotter in person!!!

You sent the message, placing your phone face down on the table and looking back at the menu.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sirius smirk slightly, the back of his neck turning red. When he made eye contact with you, you felt your stomach turn. Partly from the butterflies, partly from the looming feeling you made an embarrassing mistake.

Taking a risk, you flipped your phone over. You saw Sirius’ name appearing on the screen, your eyes widening as he laughed at your expression.

You almost didn’t read the text, but when you did, you couldn’t help but shoot him a sheepish grin.

Sirius: Wrong number, princess. ;)

Please tell me I’m not the only one internally screaming at the cuteness. :P

Edited 7/19/18: Changed up that format of the texts so it was easier to follow, and I changed the nickname from “dollface” to “princess” because what the literal fuck is dollface, anyway? (I was on a Bucky Barnes 40′s kick...okay?) 

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfiction #x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #harry potter au #the accidental sext

[kootenaygoon]

So,

I didn’t have to drive anymore. 

With my clammy forehead pressed to the moist glass of my RAV’s passenger window, I felt like a dying star sucking back black energy in preparation for going supernova. As Mika motored along the undulating lakeshore across the Big Orange Bridge, worriedly drumming her elaborately painted nails on the steering wheel, I compiled a mental inventory of everyone I’d alienated, everyone I’d hurt and embarrassed and infuriated, all the names of people who I’d lost because of my berserk antics and toxic personality. 

It wasn’t just the staff of the Star, Ed and Kai and all the rest of them. There was Blayne, and Becca, then Chelsea and now Natalya — plus Snapper and Niles, and a bunch of my co-workers at Tony’s. The list continued. Last of all I thought of Paisley, nearly two years gone now, along with our canine progeny and our dreams of a future together. I’d moved to Nelson with Muppet in my passenger seat four years earlier, and now I was leaving town completely alone.

It was around lunch-time and we were on our way to the Cranbrook Airport, which meant taking a ferry in Balfour. My parents had forwarded some money for gas and an overnight hotel stay for Mika and her two friends, who were chattering in the backseat. I wondered if she’d brought them because she was scared to be alone with me, if they were supposed to act as a social buffer so I didn’t overwhelm her with my manic ramblings. The last few days had been a torrent — I’d lost so many people already, was I going to lose Mika too?

I thought about the final montage of Six Feet Under, with all the different characters experiencing their ultimate fates while Sia sings. I wondered if I fast-forwarded to my death, would it actually be that far away? Would my departure be as incendiary as Ryan Tapp’s, as soul-shredding as Kessa’s, as Shakespearean as Bodie’s? I was 33, like Jesus when he was crucified, so any extra time was gravy. Right? I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Twitter, where opposing factions of the UBC Accountable conversation were flaming each other over new Galloway news. I continued to retweet and comment indiscriminately, relieved to have CanLit drama to think about rather than spectral Kessa and her dancing army of roller-skating women. 

I could hear them singing.

 “Oh-oh, I’m a rebel just for kicks now,” Laela sang in my brainspace, as a dude in white overalls danced through Sofiella Watt’s junkyard out in Blewett. “Let me kick it like it’s 1986, now.”

“Might be over now, but I feel it still,” I whispered under my breath, pulling up the YouTube video on my phone. 

Then there was that scene in Mad Men where Don Draper fires Lane Pryce, who proceeds to commit suicide in his office. This was an experience plenty of other people had gone through, right? Losing your job, social exile. This shit was temporary. My mind was a hellscape at the moment, but that didn’t mean it would be forever. I watched the clouds dance above the surface of Kootenay Lake through the trees, replaying the events of the past few weeks like a newsreel. I thought of Face Tatooo in the rain, about my multiple visits to the hospital, the two police officers who showed up at my door after some of my more alarming social media posts. One of them was mohawked and heavily tattooed, named Armstrong.

“I’m just trying to find the truth,” I told him. “The real truth.”

“There’s not a whole lot of truth in this world,” he said, grim, sitting backwards on a fold-out chair in the middle of my living room. I’d just taken him on a tour around my house to look at all my latest paintings. One of them was for my CrossFit gym, and showed me overwhelmed in glittery rainbow paint drooling down the canvas like blood. I asked him whether we could take a selfie together, just to show everyone I was safe.

“I don’t see why not,” he said. 

With my black toque pulled low over my eyes, I had posed with my arm around Armstrong’s back in solidarity. I could imagine the conversations on the other side of the screen: Why was there a cop in Will’s living room? And what’s all this nonsense about having a list of names, about fighting a kamikaze war against rape culture? I had thoroughly and completely lost track of reality, I understood that and I wasn’t shy about letting people know. But would they reject me now, exile me, ridicule me? Now that I’d been thrown from my journalistic plinth, did I even matter? I was just some dude playing at being a reporter. I could be replaced, forgotten about, made irrelevant. 

“I did that job better than it’s even meant to be done,” I said, more to myself than anything else. “I gave that newspaper my soul.”

Mika nodded. “I think everybody knows that. It was obvious you were so into it. But you gotta think ‘it’s just a job’ too, you know? You’re going to have lots of jobs.”

“How does it make sense that I have to leave town and fucking assholes like Snapper and Cam Carpenter and John fucking Dooley get to just continue on with their lives like nothing happened. I mean, I’m the good guy here. How the fuck does this make any sense? It’s not fair.”

Mika sighed. “It doesn’t need to make sense. You just need to get back to your family and get some sleep. This is all going to get sorted.”

I blinked back some more tears, fiddled with the radio some more, then took careful long inhales through my nose as I starred out at the frosted white tips of looming evergreens. We were almost at the terminal now. This is all a moment, I told myself, and moments end. 

“Hey, what’s with all the police cars?”

*

There was no way to escape the moment. Every thought was uncomfortable, my body clenched and sweaty. Had that just happened, or was I just being dramatic? Had I really considered throwing myself off the back of the ferry? What the fuck was wrong with me?

After we reached the opposite shore, Mika pulled over to share a joint with me at a quiet boat launch alongside the road. We were shivering in the wind off the lake. Everything else seemed drained of colour, but her hair was a bombastic fire engine red. It reminded me of Mharianne’s pink hair, and Sierra’s hair as well. All these signs led back to Me Too, back to UBC Accountable and Steven Galloway and even my pastor Trent. I thought of my time in the subterranean tunnels below Nelson with Gordo, of the crypts waiting there. The whole town was built on a graveyard, the lake full of drowned souls, and ghosts swirled through the alleyways. Looming above it all was Elephant Mountain, rumbling to life like a buried diety returning to the light, throbbing with purple energy and ready for resurrection. His followers danced shoulder-to-shoulder on Baker Street in flamboyant Shambhala outfits, totems held aloft, while zig-zagging lights pulsed in time with their ecstatic ululations. Were they worshipping? Or praying? Or what?

“Can I have a hug?” I asked her.

She hesitated for a moment. Shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

It was a weak hug, without any warmth. I felt pathetic and needy as I sucked back the last few hoots on the joint. I owed this girl a lot, but I couldn’t expect our friendship to survive long past this. She was just my latest casualty.

“I really appreciate you driving me, and everything. You didn’t ask to be a crazy person’s roommate.”

She grimaced, shrugged against the wind. “You’re not crazy. But you should’ve worn a condom, and you shouldn’t have taken those fucking pills while you were at work. I know you’re going through a lot, but these were bad choices. Do you understand that?”

I blinked for a long moment, surprised. It was like being lectured by a younger sibling. “I hate myself every day. I’m doing this whole mental inventory thing and I know I’m an asshole, okay? I really fucked up, I get that.”

She squinted suspiciously. “Do you?”

A while later, as the evening sky turned the colour of milky coffee, we pulled into the airport parking lot. I’d already left my cell phone and computer behind, and just had a simple carry-on. I tightened my tie and checked my reflection in the glass, jutting out my chin dramatically. I’m dressing up for my breakdown. I didn’t know what was going to happen on the other side of this flight, but I was going to face it in bouncer black. I pushed my pink anti-bullying glasses into place, the last piece of my uniform. I thought of that elementary school flash mob, of the pink shirt I’d worn for years. Bully Free Zone. I thought of my Power by You canvas, about doing hand-stand push-ups and burpees until I left a sweat angel on the ground. I was an intelligent, passionate and talented motherfucker and this wasn’t the end of me. No way.

“Your plane’s not for a few hours, are you sure you’ll be okay?” Mika asked, pulling her coat tight against the wind. It was starting to rain a bit. 

“You should go ahead and get checked into your hotel. I’ll get a magazine or something. And I’ll let you know when I get to Vancouver. You don’t have to worry about me, okay? You did what you had to do.”

She bit her lip. “I want you to be okay.”

“I will be.”

This time we didn’t bother with a hug. She climbed back into the driver’s seat and pulled away, illuminating red rain puddles all around the RAV. She was safe now, and so was I. Lugging my bag over one shoulder, I headed to the ticket booth to arrange my way home. The Cranbrook landscape was strangely flat and barren, stretching out on all sides around me. There was a plane taxiing down the runway, its engine roar filling my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut against the rain, which was beginning to spray, and suddenly I was the narrator from Fight Club on the day his condominium was blown up by Tyler Durden. Staring at the smoking wreckage of my refrigerator, sifting through the blackened detritus of my life, his words echoed back to me: It’s only when we lose everything that we’re free to do anything. 

Right during that moment, as I contemplated the fact that Brad Pitt plays both Tyler Durden and Lt. Aldo Raine from Inglourious Basterds, a cherry red convertible pulled up to the curb. Andrew Stevenson was sprawled across the backseat with his shotgun, smoking a cigarette, Ryan Tapp dangled his arm from the passenger side window and Kessa was driving in her bare feet. She had the radio on high, playing Tove Lo.

“Imaginary friend, stay with me to the end now,” she sang, but it was Laela’s voice I heard. “Keeping me dreaming.”

I opened the passenger door for Ryan, and he bounded out of the seat with a theatrical flourish. He threw open his arms crucifixion-style, rolled his head around a few times, then took a long drag from his vape. Andrew passed him his bag, and he hooked it over his arm.

“I’m a rebel just for kicks now. I don’t know if you heard,” I said.

“Man, I’ve been following it all. You’re a fucking legend, man. Fuck that town, right? You went out Cobain-style, with a shotgun, you burned that shit down. You’re a magical soul. You’re a light.”

I blushed. “I didn’t get any of the answers, though.”

He pondered this for a moment, while Andrew climbed into the passenger seat behind him and pulled the door closed. Kessa put on her blinker and began to pull away, leaving me, just like Paisley and Blayne and Chelsea and every other fucking woman in my life. How many divorces did I have to go through? How many times would my heart be broken? I didn’t know how much more pain I could take, all my empathy for strangers.

“Look at you, giving a fuck when it’s not your turn to give a fuck,” Ryan said, doing his best impression of Bunk from The Wire.

I channeled McNulty. “What the fuck did I do?”

If on some level I was aware that I was standing in public, talking to myself, then this other part of me didn’t care anymore. I was like a character from a Denis Johnson short story, like a drug-addled Hunter S. Thompson mixed with Chuck Klosterman, maybe. I was capable of so much. I could make all of these inner minions dance on cue; my life was performance art. Nobody understood me, really, or what I was trying to accomplish. Not Spencer, not my parents, not Brendan or anyone. The only one who understood was Ryan Tapp. His bum-chin wagging joyously, I admired his close-fitting blue suit and his skinny tie. He was dressed like he was attending the opening night of some film festival, like he was ready to hit the red carpet. He took a lengthy, mischievous pull on his vape and smiled seductively.

“Where we headed next, Goon?”

The Kootenay Goon

[ozcobblehot-archive]

i was tagged by @otto-von-stirlitz

RULES: answer all questions, add one question of your own and tag as many people as there are questions.

i dont think im going to tag 50+ people tbh @hollyknight @niwry @alan-of-all-trades @wannabegoodman @bunswithknives @teknon @soraeigarashi @enigmatic-wankery @lobobathory

1. coke or pepsi: coke

2. disney or dreamworks: both have good and bad movies, i think i like both equally tbh

3. coffee or tea: tea

4. books or movies: movies

5. windows or mac: windows

6. dc or marvel: as for now... image. but seriously? dc. yeah, i know, i’m surprised too.

7. xbox or playstation: pc

8. dragon age or mass effect: both and neither at the same time

9. night owl or early riser: hoot hoot

10. cards or chess: none

11. chocolate or vanilla: vanilla

12. vans or converse: converse

13. lavellan, trevelyan, cadash, or adaar: just not trevelyan and we’re good

14.  fluff or angst: both

15. beach or forest: forest

16.  dogs or cats: dogs

17.  clear skies or rain: clear skies

18.  cooking or eating out: eating out

19. Spicy food or mild food: somewhere in between

20. halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: halloween

21. would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: too cold

22.  if you could have a superpower, what would it be: shape shifting or telepathy

23.  animation or live action: both

24.  paragon or renegade: paragon with a slight hint of renegade

25. baths or showers: showers

26. team cap or team ironman: team black panther

27.  fantasy or sci-fi: fantasy

28. do you have three or four favourite quotes? if so what are they:

“i’ve got no reason to be afraid any more. i can be whoever i want to be. i can be whoever i am.” - inanna, the wicked + the divine “and we will be the stars we were meant to be” - helen cobb’s letter, captain marvel “there is a sadness in this world, for we are ignorant of many things. yes, we are ignorant of many beautiful things — things like the truth. so sadness, in our ignorance, is very real. the tears are real. what is this thing called a tear? there are even tiny ducts — tear ducts — to produce these tears should the sadness occur. then the day when the sadness comes — then we ask: "will this sadness which makes me cry — will this sadness that makes me cry my heart out — will it ever end?" the answer, of course, is yes. one day the sadness will end.” - log lady’s voiceover, twin peaks

29.  youtube or netflix: both have content i like

30.  harry potter or percy jackson: hp

31.  when do you feel accomplished: that is an excellent question

32.  star wars or star trek: star trek

33.  paperback books or hardback books: paperbacks

34. horror or rom-com: rom com

35.  to live in a world without literature or music: i’d rather not

36.  pastel colours or dark colours: pastel

37.  tv shows or movies: shows

38.  city or countryside: city

39.  if any other zodiac sign could describe you, what would it be: people always describe taurus as a foodie, and honestly? true.

40.  if you could only listen to one album for the rest of your life what would it be: “you could have it so much better” by franz ferdinand

41.  cinema or theatre: neither, actually

42.  if you could be any fictional character’s best friend, who’d you be: i’d love to befriend dionysus from wicdiv tbh

43.  smiling or smirking: smirking all the way

44.  are you an ‘all or nothing’ type or are you more consistent: all or nothing

45.  playlists or your whole library on shuffle: i’m picky about music i listen to

46. traveling or staying at home: staying home

47.  books or fanfiction: both

48.  If you could live in a fantasy world, what world would it be: thedas, here i come

49. your favorite cartoon: idk, i don’t really watch cartoons anymore

50.  name the weirdest five songs on your itunes, current or past: define “weird”

51. mountains or plains: plains

52. favorite anime (or tv show if you don’t watch anime): my favorite tv show is twin peaks. i stopped watching anime years ago.

53. which social media platform are you most like yourself on: tumblr, fb, sometimes instagram

54. What are some of your passions: the wicked + the divine and generally everything gillen touches, the elder scrolls, writing, my friends, oswald cobblepot, gay

55. What are some of your current goals in life?: pass the exams, meet my favorite writer irl, have a one night stand with idris elba (i still stand by my opinion he’s the most attractive person on earth)

56. A pet that you would like to have (or already have) that is NOT a cat or dog: a pet fox

57. Body modifications you would like to have: i want a tattoo and some cool piercings tbh

58: Describe the most bullshit fictional story you’ve ever read/watched/played:

#iv.txt

[inkykate]

Off-Season, the Unnecessary Jon x Sansa Baseball AU

Note: The ‘Starks play baseball’ AU is definitely not a thing I originated, but I’ve been stewing on this idea for a love story for a while. So consider this an opening salvo, from someone who has no track record of finishing multi-chapter fics.

“I have to have him,” Margaery murmured fervently in Sansa’s ear, leaning in close so that she could be heard over the press of a couple hundred inebriated high-society sport hobbyists.

Sansa didn’t have to ask who. Margaery would never be so crass to host an event in a sports’ bar, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t dozens of large televisions shining down on the glitterati that were invited - every screen set to the same station and flashing the same highlight reel:

The Winterfell Direwolves advancing to the playoffs, only a year after the loss of their star pitcher. The team’s unshakeable discipline as they won series after series. The jubiliation of reaching the Championship game. The three game deficit to the Lannisport Lions. The pall on the series because of Lannisport’s unsportsman-like conduct in their qualifying match against the King’s Landing Kingsguard. And then…

Jon Snow had pitched a perfect Game Four and the momentum turned. The series forced into a Game Seven. The Lions taking the lead in the 6th inning. The purposeful 7th inning injury to the Direwolves’ third basemen. The Direwolves’ double in the 8th. The Lions’ run to tie at the top of the 9th. Jon Snow hitting a homerun at the bottom of the 9th.

Scrolling along the bottom of the screen: Jon Snow the Hero of Winterfell; Jon Snow Leads the Direwolves to Victory; The End of Winterfell’s 108 Year Losing Streak; Snow Breaks Direwolves Curse, Winterfell Celebrates.

“He’s so reticient with any sort of personal press,” Margaery pressed. “It’ll be a coup. Jon Snow, the handsome folk hero of the Direwolves. Single, humble, athletic, new money.”

“Margaery,” Everything in Sansa felt churned up and knotted, now that the initial exiliaration of watching Winterfell win had rushed through her. “Jon’s quiet. He’s taciturn and serious. He’s - “

“A romantic then,” Margaery leaned back, lips curled in the mischeavous half-smile that both delighted and terrified Sansa. “He gives perfectly charming interviews to sport’s reporters and he’s always polite to the public. I don’t need him to be a smooth operator to turn him into Westeros’ new hearthrob.”

“But why do you even want to?” Sansa regrouped, trying to sound baffled instead of terrified.

The coverage on the television had broken to talking heads analyzing the game. In a corner of the screen, the footage from each owner’s box was playing on a loop for analysis. The Lannisters looked as though they were seconds away from firing their entire team for their failure. The Starks - Sansa’s family, her parents and her brothers and sister - were all jubiliant, crying and laughing and jumping for joy. Even Robb, who had lost the chance to lead the Direwolves here himself when the doctor botched the surgery on his shoulder and ended his pitching career.

Sansa had joined them for Game Four, prepared to be the dutiful daughter only passingly interested in the family business. Her heart had been in her throat the whole game, and she had begged off for Game 5, and then Game 6, and even Game Seven.

Her hands rubbed over the diamond studded face of the Direwolves pendant she wore. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how important this game was - it wasn’t as though she didn’t want to support something that loomed so large in her family. It wasn’t even that baseball had always been the wedge between her and the rest of her siblings who were absolutely mad for it.

“I need this,” Margaery was saying, and she reached out one perfectly manicured hand to clutch at Sansa earnestly. “I can’t let what they’re saying about me stand. I can’t.”

This wasn’t about Jon, Sansa realized. Not really, not for Margaery. This was about Renly Baratheon leaving her for her brother. This was about Joffrey being a horrible person and using their high-profile romance to smear her family. This was about Aegon laughing about her being a social climber to the press after Margaery told him she was in love with him. This was about the lifestyle brand that Margaery wanted to build and the Tyrell media empire.

It was about everything that Sansa had always admired about Margaery - her absolute conviction in who she was and what she was doing, no matter how trivial or ornamental it seemed, and her belief that none of it was unimportant because it wasn’t to her.

“I can introduce you,” Sansa heard herself say. Sansa, afterall, had never managed to be both herself and a Stark.

The crowd swelled around them, buffetting them as the music crescendoed. Something in Margaery’s face transformed into something quiet and thoughtful.

“No,” Margaery said slowly. “I think it should be you. A profile now. A couple of gossip pieces and some larger features on the North and Winterfell in particular. That Winds of Winter Ball your family hosts can be the fete of the season. A slow burn to a covershoot and an intimate look at baseball’s new hero, just in time for spring training and framing him as a leading man for all the girls looking for a true romance.”

The stomach churnning stopped and Sansa felt like she was in freefall. “Me?”

“You,” Margaery agreed. “Look darling, I know you. You’re my best friend. And being one of the darlings of the socialite set lost it’s appeal for you back at University. And being my right hand woman isn’t enough. You need something of your own.”

On the television screens, Cersei and Robert Baratheon were having a screaming fight outside of the Lions’ locker room, and several of the guests were openly hooting and tittering at the display. The ticker at the bottom of the screen proclaimed Robb Stark “the Baseball Prince Crowned Too Soon.”

“That crafty, practical transformation pitch you made Grandmother? She didn’t dislike it. It’s just not the Tyrell brand. And she just wasn’t sure you were ready to launch something like that on your own. You do this and I bet we can make it happen within a year. Your very own magazine.”

Wicked smile firmly in place, Margaery practically purred, “Now go get Jon Snow.”

#Jon x Sansa #jon snow x sansa stark #Off-Season the Baseball AU #my fanfiction #unbeta'd

[chinupacoroman]

Ang Pagbibinata ni Joven Hernando-Bernal (alternately, The Life and Times of Jovito Hernando, Bernal Brother #3) a fic by @toniongbuwan​​ / @ipakomokoroman​​ with @sumbungero​​ / @chinupacoroman​​ images by @dettsu / @bagyong-goyong​​ 1,719 words of 17k+ | PG | Pacoven (One-sided) chapter index: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

Chapter 14: “Pasensya ka na, baka lang hindi siya sanay sa mga magagandang babae...”

The (Unspoken) Bernal Birthday Covenant is thus:

At the birthday of one sibling, the sibling older than him would take care of the preparations for the food and refreshments. Manuel would take care of the preparations for José's birthday (easy, all José required was five cases of Red Horse, half a dozen bottles of Absolut, and all the finger foods that could be eaten with said drinks) while José took care of Joven's (a sad tragedy on Joven's part; his brother had never outgrown the idea of children's parties for Joven, much to the chagrin of everyone: "Wow, hotdog with marshmallows? Kulang na lang pabitin, ah." Goyong once said snidely. This disparaging remark completely flew over José's head; he was busy blowing balloons in the garage). Joven, in turn, would take care of his Kuya Manuel's birthday, thereby closing the circle.

Joven, unlike his Kuya José, was actually mindful of the age of the birthday celebrant that he was preparing for. Since Manuel was several years older than him, birthday parties were serious, sit-down affairs. He made sure that each birthday had a different type of cuisine. Skipping over the usual French and Italian, they've had Greek and British ("Bakit walang lasa ‘tong karne?" "Ganyan talaga ‘pag roast beef, Joselito" "Eh. Jovito, iabot mo sakin ‘yang Knorr."). Last year, Joven prepared Spanish dishes ("Parang Pinoy din ‘no?" José said, while scarfing down escabeche. “Tinamad ka ‘ata.” “José.”) and for this year's birthday, he chose Thai, with its nutty pad thai noodles and hearty bowls of tom yum. All with the help of Ed Rusca, of course.

Despite his dubious addiction towards local baked goods and glutinous rice snacks, Ed Rusca was, surprisingly, an accomplished cook. They only found out about this completely by accident; Rusca, seeing that Joven was stumped at how to cook paella, took over. He moved like he could’ve cooked the dish with his eyes closed. And he didn’t just make plain paella.

“Nagluto ka ng arros negre?!” Goyong screeched. “Paano? Kain ka nang kain diyan tapos hindi mo ‘man lang sinasabi na marunong ka rin palang magluto!” Rusca shrugged, ensaymada halfway inside his mouth. “‘Di niyo naman ako tinatanong.”

After that, Joven made sure to always get Rusca’s connivance in preparing dishes for his kuya’s birthday.

"Sa’n ko lalagay ‘tong curry?" Rusca asked, hefting a large ceramic casserole.

"Diyan, Kuya Ed, sa may tabi ng fried rice." Joven directed, while looking for the cutlery that they used for special occasions. "Wala pa ba si Kuya Paco?"

"Male-late ‘yun," Rusca said "pero dadating pa rin."

"Ano ‘to?" José pointed towards a plate of what looked like glutinous rice cooked in coconut milk and paired with sliced mangoes.

"Khao niao mamuang. Mango sticky rice." Joven said, triumphant that he was able to find what he was looking for "Dessert ‘yan."

"Wow. Kanin tapos kanin pa rin for dessert. Carbo loading ba tayo dito? Tatakbo ba tayo ng marathon?" José said, teasing.

"’Wag mong pakialaman kung ano hinanda ng kapatid mo," Manuel interjected, "at least walang balloons ang birthday ko."

"Oo nga, thank God." Goyong emphatically agreed, lifting casserole covers to look inside their contents. "Jovito, ikaw mag-ayos ng birthday ko sa susunod ha," while looking at the dishes with interest. "You have good taste." he said, visibly impressed.

"Thanks Goyong!" Joven said, pleased.

"Kung babayaran mo siya!" José rolled his eyes, and pushed him away from the dining table. "Atsaka pwede ba, over my dead body bago ko hayaan ang kapatid ko na paghandaan ka nang kung ano."

Where is Kuya Paco, Joven wondered, looking at the clock. He didn't worry too much, though. Kuya Paco would never miss his Kuya Manuel's birthday. Maybe he's preparing a surprise. It wouldn't be unlikely. Kuya Paco was a good friend like that. Kuya Paco is perfect like that. He shrugged and went back to heating the tom yum in the kitchen.

A few minutes later came the unmistakable sound of Paco's car parking outside. There was the metallic ssshr-ing of the screen door opening and Paco shouting, "Manuel! Saan ka! May surprise ako!"

"O, andito lang ako." he shouted, carrying an ice bucket from the kitchen. "Ano yun— Oh my God." Manuel exclaimed in surprise. A woman's happy shriek and Manuel's laughter caused Joven to switch the stove off and go to the sala to see what the commotion was all about. There, standing in their sala, was Kuya Paco, as well as a woman his Kuya Manuel was currently embracing.

"Jules! Oh my God, Jules! Kelan ka pa dumating?" Manuel releasing her from a tight embrace to look at her up and down. "Tumaba ka nang konti ha, pero ang ganda mo pa din."

"Ngayon lang ako dumating Manuel! Dapat kanina pa kami kaso na-delay yung baggage ko, nasama sa isang flight or something," the woman waved her hand vaguely, "pero tinaon ko talaga umuwi today para maabutan ko birthday mo." She hugged him again, "Grabe, ilang taon na!"

Paco was looking at both of them and beaming proudly

"Ah, teka papakilala kita." Manuel the ever-conscientious host, turned around to call everyone’s attention. “Guys, si Juliana Piqueras, si Ate Jules! Girlfriend ni Paco.”

Girlfriend ni Paco.

Joven’s blood ran cold.

For all of Joven’s want for his Kuya Paco, he knew that there was a girlfriend somewhere that the older man already had a relationship with. He’d browse through Paco’s social media timelines and scroll extra fast at any mention or image of a woman who wasn’t Paco’s family. He never brought the relationship question up when talking to Paco. He avoided the topic because he knew. But, because of the lack of an actual female physical presence to remind him of not only his Kuya Paco’s civil status, but his sexuality as well, Joven continued with his fantasies. Seeing her in the flesh made all his dreams of ever being with his Kuya Paco (yes, yes, he harbored that hope. Foolish, he knew, but what was reality when it came up against teenage fantasy?) come crashing down on his ears.

There was a chorus of hellos, and she waved and or shook hands with each of them. Goyong stared at her in frank appreciation. “I never knew na may kakainggitan ako kay Kuya Paco, pero nung nakita kita…” he said suavely. José made gagging noises in the background.

When she reached Joven, she clapped her hands to her mouth in delight. “Jovito? Eto ba si Jovito?” she enveloped him in a fierce hug. Joven, arms stiff at his sides, didn’t respond. She looked at him, her eyes cursorily roaming his face, and then spoke to Paco. “Love, ang laki na niya ‘no?” To Joven, “Palagi kang kinukuwento sakin ni Paco! Ang dami niyang pictures mo! ‘Yang aso na ‘yan ni Paco ‘di ko na nga nababalitaan pero ikaw? Parang halos kilala na nga kita.” she looked at him affectionately. She looked back at Paco, smiling. “Love, sayang binata na siya! Kung baby pa rin siya katulad nung una mo siyang nakilala, gawin sana natin siyang ringbearer.”

Paco laughed, “‘Wag ka mag-alala, hon. ‘Pag kinasal tayo, isa siya sa groomsmen. Promise.”

Each word was like a knife blade, dripping acid, through Joven’s heart. His hands were clenched so tightly that he felt that his nails had cut through the skin of his palms. Go away, go away. Go back to Singapore. Or wherever. Anywhere but here. Leave us alone. Joven’s mind cried. Go away. You’re not supposed to be here. You don’t belong here.

“O, Joven. Magsalita ka naman.” Rusca encouraged. “Pasensya ka na Jules, baka lang hindi siya sanay sa mga magagandang babae...” Teased Goyong.

“Imposible! Sa guwapo ng batang to?” Jules took him by the arm and had him sit with her on the sofa, “Nako, panigurado sobrang heartbreaker mo, sa itsura mong yan.” she clasped his hands. “Di bale, Jovito, nandito na si Ate Jules mo. Ako na tatayong ate mo, parang kung pano mo lang naging kuya si Paco.”

Joven stared at her, a pained smile on his face.

Dinner for Joven was a three-hour long affair with every minute feeling like his skin was being slowly pulled away from his flesh by tiny, tiny hooks. He sat between his Kuya Manuel and Goyong, with his Kuya José in front of him. The  food was superb. The tom yum goong spicy and sour, with just the right bite of lemongrass; the pad thai noodles, massaman curry and kao phad cooked to perfection. But to Joven, every bite was like ash on his tongue and teeth. He gave some cursory responses but refused to participate in any of the conversation. Paco, concerned, asked across the table if he was alright. No, Joven wanted to say. I am not alright. Every time you hold your girlfriend’s hand is another cut across my throat. But Joven remained silent. He just nodded his head and went back to mechanically chewing his food.

After dinner, Joven couldn’t stand it any longer. Seeing Paco and Jules kiss, no matter how chaste, was the last straw (“Ang sarap sarap naman ng handa na ‘to, Manuel!” Jules smiled after polishing off her second plate of curry. “Si Jovito lahat ‘yan!” Manuel beamed. Jules grinned at Paco. “Kung sana lang ganito ako kahusay magluto, ano?” “Loves, aaminin kong walang-wala ka talaga sa expertise ni Jovito, pero mahal na mahal pa rin kita.” Paco brushed Jules’ cheek with a kiss).

Rusca and Goyong started howling. Joven gave his excuses—barely audible due to the boys’ hoots—and made his way to go up his room on the pretext of a headache.

He encountered his brother along the way, carrying bottles of Red Horse and San Miguel. “Jovito, okay ka lang ba? Teka nga.” he placed the bottles on a side table and wiped his hands down his shirt. “Wala ka naman lagnat.”

“Hinde kuya, napagod lang ako siguro sa pag-prepare ng dinner. Pasabi kay Kuya Manuel umakyat na ‘ko? Ang sama na talaga ng pakiramdam ko.” he lied.

José looked like he was about to say something, but thought against it. “Sige, sasabihan ko na lang si kuya.” and, before leaving, “Wala ka bang ipapasabi kay Kuya Paco? Hahanapin ka din nun.”

It was now Joven’s turn to bite back what he wanted to stay.

“Wala.”

#Bernal Brothers AU #fanfiction #Heneral Luna #Heneral Moon #Joven Hernando #José Bernal #Manuel Bernal

[funface2]

RuPaul’s Drag Race: 10 Funniest Quotes From The Show That Became Mainstream – Screen Rant

There is no denying that RuPaul’s Drag Race has become a pop culture phenomenon. Nowadays, this franchise is an Emmy-winning, social media-conquering, popular culture-shaping juggernaut for VH1 and its parent company Viacom as a whole.

RELATED: RuPaul’s Drag Race Queens: 10 Best Movies & TV Shows Featuring Them

All in all, the Drag Race vernacular has entered mainstream consciousness and spilled all over the different parts of the entertainment industry. Many of the show’s iconic catchphrases and hilarious quotes are now part of everyday lingo, not only forwarding the Paris Is Burning language, but also creating its own Drag Race-specific references. Read below to find out some of the funniest quotes of the show that became mainstream.

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10 “NO T, NO SHADE, NO PINK LEMONADE”

Jasmine Masters has conquered the internet with her short videos on social media. In 2019, for instance, Ms. Masters went viral with her “And I oop–” quote from a video posted online.

When it comes to RuPaul’s Drag Race quotes that went mainstream, we certainly have to mention Jasmine Masters’ “No T, no shade, no pink lemonade” quote on season 6, which has become something that a lot of people say in different contexts. Essentially, this quote means, “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but…”

Despite her short run on RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars 4, it is always a hoot to watch Jasmine Masters on TV. Thankfully, we can count on her online presence to laugh with this iconic queen.

9 “DON’T GET BITTER, JUST GET BETTER!”

Alyssa Edwards may not have done well during the “RuPaul Roast” episode of season 5, but her “Don’t get bitter, just get better” quote during that challenge was certainly one for the books. Over time, this quote also ended up entering mainstream consciousness, as it is something that people find both general enough and relatable enough to say.

RELATED: RuPaul’s Drag Race: 10 Best Lip Sync Assassins, Ranked

Another iconic thing about Alyssa Edwards on RuPaul’s Drag Race is her signature tongue pop, which is now widely recognizable and imitated by virtually every drag queen in the world.

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8 “YOUR TONE SEEMS VERY POINTED RIGHT NOW”

Throughout Drag Race history, it is hard to find a bigger lovable rebel than Willam. All in all, Willam has an eerie calmness to her, as well as a hilarious and self-conscious narcissism that is hard to imitate.

During the Untucked episode of season 4’s “Frenemies,” Phi Phi O’Hara went off on Willam, assertively telling her that Drag Race was “a show for talented people” and saying that the queen should not be there at all. After Phi Phi’s succession of insults, Willam calmly replied, “Your tone seems very pointed right now.”

As a GIF, Willam’s quote has grown a life of its own, as it is understandably a very relatable response to just about any accusation or aggressive behavior that may be directed at you.

7 “BACK ROLLS!?”

At this point, the entire world knows that “Back rolls!?” is the best of saying “I have no idea what this person is talking about, and how dare they.”

This quote was delivered by Alyssa Edwards during an Untucked episode of season 5, as Jade Jolie was accused the queen of displaying back rolls on the runway. This quote is so mainstream that it even made its way to an episode of Jeopardy!.

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6 “BECAUSE I AM WHAT? SICKENING.”

On season 3, Shangela was a returning contestant with a lot to prove. However, Mimi Imfurst was not very content with this queen’s return to the series, and decided to point out that she had heard rumors about Shangela having a ‘sugar daddy.’

What followed Mimi Imfurst’s accusation was a sickening response from Shangela, as she candidly delivered what has become one of the most widely-recognized quotes in the history of RuPaul’s Drag Race. In response to Mimi, Shangela said: “I don’t have a sugar daddy. I’ve never had a sugar daddy. If I wanted a sugar daddy, yes, I probably can go out and get one, because I am what? Sickening.”

5 “THE SHADE… THE SHADE OF IT ALL.”

It is impossible to think about season 4 without remembered Latrice Royale, and her iconic first appearance on Drag Race was kicked off on the very first episode, when the queen delivered her “The shade… The shade of it all” quote.

“The shade of it all” has largely defined the Drag Race franchise. There are various song titles, podcast names, and an incredible variety of GIFs that all reference this one quote from Latrice Royale.

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4 “FACTS ARE FACTS, AMERICA!”

There is no doubt that Monique Heart’s one-on-one interview segments on season 10 stood out from all of the other contestants. Despite the fact that this queen delivered several iconic quotes, the most iconic line of all was certainly “Facts are facts, America!”, which she said while breaking the fourth wall on Drag Race.

This line has become so popular and mainstream that politician Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez even tweeted it out in January of 2019, in reference to the importance of fact-checking information in the age of the internet.

3 “YOU’RE PERFECT YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL, YOU LOOK LIKE LINDA EVANGELISTA”

While this certainly did not start out as a ‘funny’ moment, Aja’s resentful “Linda Evangelista” speech to Valentina on season 9 has become one of the most hilarious and iconic quotes in the history of RuPaul’s Drag Race.

RELATED: RuPaul’s Drag Race: 10 Queens We’d Love To See Return For All Stars 5

The full quote goes, “You’re perfect, you’re beautiful, you look like Linda Evangelista, you’re a model. Everything about you is perfect. Did you stone those tights? Oh, you’re smiling!” This unforgettable moment has been remixed as a song quite a few times over the years, and it had been shared repeatedly as a GIF on social media.

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2 “MISS VANJIE (3X)”

Vanessa Vanjie Mateo was sent home first on season 10 of RuPaul’s Drag Race, but little did she know that her runway exit would become one of the most mainstream moments in the history of reality show competitions. Her “Miss Vanjie, Miss Vanjie, Miss Vanjie” chant while walking backwards went on to be referenced countless times by celebrities everywhere.

To name a few, Rihanna has said “Miss Vanjie” during an Instagram story, RuPaul wore a Miss Vanjie necklace to the Time 100 Gala, and countless memes have been shared online using the phrase. This has not only solidified Vanessa Vanjie Mateo’s place in Drag Race history, but it has also catapulted the franchise itself to new mainstream heights.

1 “NOT TODAY, SATAN. NOT TODAY.”

On season 6, Bianca Del Rio was the queen of everything. This queen killed every challenge, delivered iconic one-liners during her one-on-one interviews, and ultimately became one of the most widely respected Drag Race winners of all time.

When ranking Bianca Del Rio’s quotes on the show, it is hard not to put “Not today, Satan. Not today.” at the very top. Over time, this quote has developed an entire life of its own, being worn as a t-shirt by celebrities, said by Jimmy Fallon on The Tonight Show, and even referenced on The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina.

NEXT: RuPaul’s Drag Race: 10 Queens Rumored To Be On Season 12

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