alcohol is all gone

Through Their Eyes - One Shot

Happy Valentine’s Day to my lovely readers with a Happy Birthday one shot to him that is almost exactly two weeks late! Inspiration and time are funny that way – always against you, you know? ;) Enjoy, loves. xx

Anybody would have to be blind not to see it, and his mother thinks he is and you are, too.

 Her beautiful boy has always been a bit oblivious. He’s incredibly smart, she’s proud to say, and very astute, but sometimes – only sometimes – he can’t see past the end of his own nose.

 He’s in love with you. She’s suspected it for awhile, but tonight it’s painfully plain to see. Her son, her youngest, her baby, loves you.

It’s more than a passing fancy, because he would have stopped lighting up in the same way when you walked into any room if it was as simple as that. And it’s more than the love that comes with strong friendship, because if it stopped there he wouldn’t look at you the way those thousands of adoring fans look at him – like he just wants one chance, just the one, to show you how good he’d be for you and to you.

 None of his friends see it – they’re all too far gone into the alcohol and guffawing as they have go after go at him in the name of good fun, and he just laughs along with them with crinkle-eyed, dimply humor.

 You don’t see it either. You don’t see it when he looks up at you with adoration that shines, unbridled, thanks to the liquor in his veins.

 You don’t even see it when he leans his head against the gentle curve of your hip while you stand next to him, one eye drooping just a little more than the other as he listens to whatever story is being told before giving in and letting them fall shut as you rake your fingers through his thick curls and massage his scalp. He does love a good pet, but he doesn’t reward all the people who comply by turning his head inwards and giving a little kiss to the hip that’s been his pillow.

And her boy – her birthday boy – he doesn’t see it at all.

Keep reading

Photographer!Andrew: Self Portraits

(part one) (part two)

  • As Neil and Andrew get to know one another more, Neil finds out a lot about Andrew’s life.
    • Andrew and Aaron were both in foster care as babies and their mom took Aaron back, as she was a recovering drug addict and could not afford to take care of both. 
    • Andrew drifted in and out of bad foster homes before going to juvie, though he won’t necessarily explain why. Neil suspects it was for breaking and entering, or something similar. 
    • after that time, Andrew was sent to live with his mother and brother, where he discovered that his mother was beating his brother and Aaron was addicted to drugs. 
      • Andrew confronts her and tells her he’s been through hell and that she’s the reason why. Tilda relapses, unable to cope with the guilt and overdoses a few days laters. 
    • A few years later, begins intensive therapy and is on medication because he got in a very violent fight with men who were attacking his cousin, Nicky Hemmick. 
    • Andrew got into photography as a way to cope, helped his cousin with various photoshoots and helped his brother work on his journalism career. He protects both of them with his life, though he never likes to show that he actually cares. 
  • Later, after Neil’s photoshoots and Andrew’s won several awards, they are sitting around really discussing Andrew’s life. This is when Neil learns all of the stuff about Andrew. He proposes another photoshoot idea. But this time: self portraits.
    • Andrew thinks this is a bad idea. He doesn’t like to show how he feels but Neil thinks it could be therapeutic and his therapist, Betsy Dobson, also believes it could help. 
  • Andrew admits that while he wants to be able to tell people about how he feels, his voice feels extremely muted. He thinks that people won’t believe him, or that it will seem like he is weak. So this where the concept for the series starts.

Keep reading

chemistreat  asked:

i imagined teen noodle hosting a huge rager party at the band's hq to the song big fun from heathers while the guys aren't home and now my life feels complete

she takes a select few group of friends into her room like “wanna see some really cool shit” and opens her closet and shaun ryder’s massive disembodied head is just like “sup” and everyone shrieks

also the guys randomly come home in the middle of the party and open the door and everyone freezes and stares at them and it’s dead silent and muds goes very slowly “noodle……. is this……a party…….even though we told you not to throw one……….”

and then he goes “I’VE NEVER BEEN PROUDER OF YOU TURN IT THE FUCK UP” and russ is just giving her the Look that she knows means that she’s gonna get an earful later and stu wanders in behind them like “oh, i didn’t know we were having a party, i would have brought some crisps and dip if i knew”

anonymous asked:

Romantic sex in bath with Jeonghan (He's treating you like princess) I'd love to read that <3

welp because of the romantic aspect this turned out long with a lot of fluff in the beginning… hope you like it ♥

» If you’re using the tumblr app and can’t see the scenario, which is under a “keep reading”, please try opening the post in your phone’s internet browser (or a computer)! 💕

» 4,444 words 


The closer a certain date had come, the more excited about it Jeonghan had become, and the more he wanted to do something about it.

It would be your very first anniversary as an official couple, and it had to be celebrated.

He had gone through countless options regarding what he should do, and after deciding that some were a bit too grande for a first anniversary, he had settled with a few simpler ones he knew you’d still appreciate.

Jeonghan felt his phone vibrate, and his lips curved into a smile when he saw the message from you.

‘I’m on my way now ♥’

After he had replied it, Jeonghan went to the mirror in his bedroom, where he still made sure he looked fine. He was wearing a white button-down tucked into a pair of black jeans that were on the tighter side, and his hair was neatly done, so he decided there was nothing to fix.

Keep reading

Like a Ship into the Storm 1/6

Decided to upload here in parts before putting it up as one big oneshot elsewhere.


“Luffy!”

He screams until his throat is hoarse, until his breath wisps out into nothingness before him, until it feels as if there is no more blood left within his lungs.

The charred corpse of that bastard rests as his feet, lumps of charcoal that’s resemblance to a human isn’t even a sure thing any more.

It doesn’t matter though.

Nothing matters anymore because once again Sabo has failed.

It’s always the not knowing.

He hadn’t known he had a brother, that he had two brothers until suddenly he did.

Until suddenly there was only one left, one he loved more than anything, one he clung to with all the strength of a dying man clinging to life.

Even that hadn’t been enough.

Keep reading

Drunken Problems.

“Seb?!” you called out as you walked through the front door. You waited for a minute, listening for a reply, but you never got one. You leaned back against the door and ran your fingers through your hair, upset. You had walked into an empty house once again. You sighed, sat your bag down on the table and walked into the kitchen to get a drink. You opened the cabinet door and closed your eyes when you saw all your alcohol was gone. Sebastian must be in a bad mood. You closed them and grabbed a Coke out of the fridge, kicking your shoes off and letting them fly in whatever direction.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

ikkaku receiving a confession by a long time friend or someone he knows by association (like they hang w yumichika or renji or st), whatever works best but...i wanna marry him 😤

Aaaah, yes! Please enjoy!

“I don’t remember you being such a quitter!” Ikkaku yelled as his Zanpakuto clashed with Renji’s. “You’re telling me you’re tired already?”

“Yeah, right!” Renji quipped. Another strike of his blade. “’Just that seeing this fight go nowhere is starting to get boring.”

“I agree,” you and Yumichika said at the same time, watching on with bored expressions. You were sitting cross-legged under a tree, your head propped up on your hand as it rested on your knee. They both ignored you, and you and Yumichika exchanged exasperated looks.

They’d been at it for hours, and they never seemed to tire. The trash talking started while on the way to the training grounds, and hadn’t stopped since. It had all been quite entertaining in the beginning, but watching those two losers bicker while they both tired was getting to be tedious. The only upside to this was that Ikkaku looked damn fine, covered in tiny bleeding cuts, sweat, and dirt, that smirk on his face that showed he was having a grand time sparring with his friend. Still, though, you were getting antsy just sitting there.

“I wanna drink,” you called out, getting to your feet in one fluid motion and clapping the dirt off your hands. It was getting late, the sun just starting to set behind the mountains, and if you didn’t hurry, your usual place was bound to be filled up. Yumichika sighed in relief, moving to join you from where he leaned against the tree with his arms crossed. “You can both join us whenever you’ve finished flirting.”

“Hah?” came the chorused question from both the blood-covered idiots. Before Ikkaku could make his inevitable retort at the thought of flirting with the redheaded lieutenant, Renji sheathed his Zanpakuto.

“I’m in,” he said, picking his way over to you with a quick look over his shoulder at his bald sparring partner. “You in, or not?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Grumbling, Ikkaku, too, put away his sword, and rolled the stiffness out of his shoulders. “I got it, let’s go.”

Picking up a familiar pace, Ikkaku by your left side as he always was when you walked together, the four of you made your way to your regular bar. Immediately upon entry, you were greeted by the staff by name, and shown to your usual table, your drinks already waiting. Nights at the bar with this particular crowd happened at least twice a week like clockwork, and you couldn’t wait to be seated next to Ikkaku to enjoy the conversation, and the best sake in the Seireitei. 

You didn’t know when these feelings of yours started to develop, but there they were one day, and there was nothing you could do about it. You were suddenly very aware of his presence, and of everything little unconscious gesture he made. Th grin he made while he was listening to friends tell their stories, the sly little lick of his lips when he was finished taking a sip of sake, the cool way he lounged at the table, with one leg pulled up as he rested his arm on it, sake cup in hand. Dammit, the man wasn’t even trying and your heart gave a little flutter. All of this didn’t escape Yumichika’s insightful gaze, and he’d been increasingly difficult to ward off. You remembered distinctly the time he cornered you, blatantly accusing you of being infatuated with Ikkaku, all sharp, but encouraging smiles. It still gave you chills to think about how astute he could be.

As the night wore on, the conversations flowed seamlessly, easily transitioning from one topic to the next until you four had been there for several hours. Throughout the night, Yumichika had been edging farther into your space, causing you to scoot away from him…and closer to Ikkaku. Currently, you were practically pressed up against him, so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his toned, muscular body. If you didn’t know any better, you would have blamed the blush on your cheeks on the alcohol. No one else seemed to notice, however, and if they did, that’s certainly what they would have blamed it on.

“Well, aren’t you three cozy,” Renji laughed, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed. 

“W-What?” you stuttered out. “W-Well, that’s–”

“I was admiring how soft her hair was, and was asking about what kind of hair products she uses,” Yumichika said flawlessly. The twinkle in his eye made you squint, but he played ignorant. “How am I supposed to touch her hair without getting close to her?”

“Hair?” Ikkaku slurred, whipping around to face you. He was right in your face, mere inches from it, in fact, eyes scrutinizing you and your hair. Without warning, his hand was on top of your head, scrunching up your locks with a look of concentration. His slid his hand down the side of your head, trying to get a better feel, but it felt more like he was caressing you. “It is pretty damn soft.” 

“Er… Thank you…” You looked down at your lap for just a second, before turning away from him, downing your little bit of sake in the most casual way possible.

“Wait, let me feel!” Renji’s rough hand was suddenly petting your hair, and you couldn’t do anything but sit there, blinking in confusion. He muttered his thoughts on your hair, making the other two men laugh. If nothing else, you were grateful he had diffused that awkward feeling between you and Ikkaku…

The evening continued much the same for another hour before Renji and Yumichika called it quits. Renji had early morning lieutenant duties that Captain Kuchiki would skin him alive if he didn’t show up on time for, and Yumichika’s reasons were less important, but very like him. Apparently, staying out too late too often was bad for the skin, and he would be thoroughly irritated if he woke up the next morning with dark circles, or worse. The knowing wink he gave you when they departed outside the bar told you otherwise, though, and you were left with a drunk Ikkaku to walk around with.

“What a bunch of wimps,” he grumbled, crossing his arms indignantly. You laughed jovially. You were hardly sober, but you had a fairly good grasp on yourself. After the strange hair-petting scene, you’d downed a few more cups of booze, and were now happily buzzed and giggly. “The night’s still young! You’ll stay, right, ___? You always do.”

He was right, too. Whenever this same thing happened in the past, you were always the one to stick around and close out the bars with him. At first, it was just because he was fun to hang out with, and you were still in the mood to drink and have fun. As your feelings grew, however, it was more that you weren’t quite ready to separate, wanting to spend as much time as possible with him, combined with the other two reasons. 

“I love that about you,” he continued after a pause. “You’re fun as hell to be around, and you ain’t half bad in a fight. Not to mention you can hold your liquor, and you’re good at conversation.”

Ah, hell. If went on complimenting you that way, you were going to pass out. Already your heart was racing, and you couldn’t even pretend the pretty flush of your cheeks was because of the booze. Ikkaku showed no visible signs that he was anything but cool as a cucumber, evening going so far as to walk with his hands clasped behind his head while he whistled. He turned to you with a boyish grin.

“Most other chicks would be a pain to hang around, but you’re different. You’re special.”

You stopped in your tracks, gaping at his back as he continued walking. Had he really said that? Was he even aware of what those kind of words did to you? No of course he wasn’t, because while Ikkaku was many things, he was not a mind reader. Having noticed your absence, he turned around with a confused expression.

“Oi, ___, what the hell are you doing all the way back–”

“I like you!” you blurted out, unable to hold it back any longer.

Silence.

Whatever Ikkaku was saying died on his lips, and he stared at you. He didn’t look unhappy, or uncomfortable, just completely taken aback and unsure of what to say. You felt like you were going to throw up, and immediately regretted your decision. But what the hell were you supposed to do when he was singing your praises like that!? It wasn’t fair that he could make you feel the way you did…

Finally, “Er, really? Since when?” he asked. He still looked for the world like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you said.

“Uh, well, a while…I suppose…” You kicked at the dirt with your toe, staring at his forehead because you couldn’t look him in the eye. “How the hell was I supposed to tell you, though…? I– You’re like–” You cut yourself off before you could stumble over your words any further, still toeing at the ground.

The silence that followed was deafening, and god, did you want to just disappear. It was so incredibly awkward, especially because he wasn’t saying anything. What were you going to do if he shrugged you off? Could you go back to the way it was before? How awkward was it going to be until it was normal between you again? Steeling yourself for disappointment, you looked up, and your eyebrows shot up into your hair.

Ikkaku was still staring at you, but the blush on his face was so severe that not only did it reach the tips of his ears, but damn near covered his whole head. You could see his jaw working, clenching and unclenching as he processed your words, but you were so absorbed by his red face.

“W-Why are you blushing?” you asked incredulously, feeling embarrassed by association.

“Shut it!” he squawked. “Who wouldn’t after a confession like that!?”

“Well, excuse me!” Now you were just annoyed. “If you don’t like it, you can just forget it ever happened!” Ikkaku made a face.

“No way! You said it, you can’t just take it back!”

“Well, then, what?” You placed your hands on your hips, all shyness and embarrassment gone. The alcohol was finally doing it’s job as liquid courage. This was usually how you two interacted, so it was a bit of a relief. “Are you gonna date me?”

“Damn straight!” Ikkaku confirmed, taking a few steps closer to tower over your much smaller frame.

“…Wait, what?” You weren’t sure you’d heard him correctly.

“I like you, too,” he said. He took you by the arm, and pulled you against his body roughly. “Confessions aren’t really my thing, so I wasn’t sure how to say it… I was probably just gonna kiss you one of these days.” He looked away from you awkwardly, but placed his hands on your waist as he gathered his thoughts.

“Well, why didn’t you?” you demanded, hitting his chest with your fist.

“Huh? Why didn’t I what?”

“Kiss me!”

“W-Wha–”

“If you liked me, then you should have just said something!” You couldn’t stop your mouth now, not when all the pent up frustrations of your crush were being released all at the same time. “Or kissed me like you said you wanted to! Instead, I’ve been drowning in these feelings for forever now, wondering if I’d ruin our friendship if I said anything, and you–”

With a sigh, Ikkaku snaked one arm around your waist, using the other one to cradle the back of your head, and smothered you in a hot, toe-curling kiss. You squeaked in surprise, making him chuckle, and he eased his tongue into your parted lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you grabbed the front of his shihakusho tightly in your tiny little hands, hanging on for dear life. A little moan escaped into his mouth, and he growled in response, kissing you harder and messier in the middle of the road. His hands in your hair made you shiver, and it was everything you’d hoped kissing him would be, and then some.

When he finally pulled back, you were sure your face was on fire. If anything, the shit-eating grin on his face confirmed this as he placed his hands back on your hips, keeping you close.

“What’s that face for?” he inquired teasingly. 

“Shut up…” you muttered, looking off to the side. He laughed, then released you, but still kept one of your hands wrapped in his.

“Let’s go.”

“What? Where?”

“Didn’t I say earlier? The night’s still young! And now I’ve got my girl to spend it with.”

You rolled your eyes. “I was already coming with you, stupid.”

“Yeah, but now you’re my girl.”

Cheater. There was absolutely nothing you could say to that, so you followed him without complaint, hand in hand, pouting. You got a few stunned looks from some of the Squad Eleven members still out drinking, but you weren’t even worried about it. Ikkaku was all yours now.

Rescue •P11•

Avengers x Reader

Summary:  reader is getting a tour of her new job at the Avengers tower, but happens to be the only one who notices an oncoming jet, about to crash into the building.

Word Count: 2535

Warnings: nothing?

A/N: I’m so sorry, you guys. It took so long to post this and it still scuks ass. I didn’t do this part justice, I’m sorry. I feel like the interest in this fic has decreased a bit, so it’s a bit discouraging to post when I don’t get much feedback. Anyway, I’m sorry. 💛

The only moment of peace between all the chaos I can recall is a moment where I’m floating. The edge of a galaxy is at the end of my fingertips. I reach out desperately to touch it, to salvage its calm, but I’m yanked back into a never-ending hell. Perhaps it’s a sort of relief to know it’s all like a terrible dream of sorts; once I wake up, back in reality, I can live again. But it’s not a dream, and that’s what’s terrifying. It’s my life. My lives. I was so many things. I`ve had so many faces, it’s impossible to concentrate on one. So I don’t. That makes my trip a lot easier. Once the sound has died down, I know it’s over. I know I’m free.

The last sounds I hear are the faint calls of my mother. Not my real one. She died a long time ago. My adoptive mother. Calling me from the backyard to come eat dinner. Odd, isn’t it?

My eyes open slowly as her voice fades into the back of my mind, dissolving into nothing. It all skims through my head in the flash of a second. I’m not in my body. I can’t feel anything. I’m a ghost listening to noises. The heart monitor beside me begins beeping rapidly. Footsteps. Urgent talking. The heart monitor is going so fast. Too fast. It’s unnerving. It’s almost a relief when I hear it flatline.

It takes eleven days. Eleven days I am trapped in my body, confronting all the thoughts and all the things I’ve done, all the things that have happened to me. Eleven days in my induced coma. It would’ve hurt less to die.

I hear everything; every shift in my room, every nurse or friend coming to see me. Every time Tony comes in and tries to talk to me because he knows I can hear. Every time Penny cries quietly, and I want to reach out to her and tell that I’m fine, I’m here. But I’m not. Not really. I’m somewhere far away, in total darkness. All I can do is listen and recall the horrible, horrible things I want out of my mind. I can’t cry; I can’t scream. I can only endure it until it’s finished. Until I get myself out.

“Okay, so I know you can hear me.” Tony had said. His voice was hoarse and weak, but he still tried to keep a withering strength to it. “I wanna start by saying I’m sorry for doing this. But you would’ve died. And, well, this…if you really do have a past, it’s all coming out. You have to deal with it. All you can do while you’re in there is remember. That’s all there is to do. And the only way you can get out is to be able to remember without freaking out. You can pull yourself out of unconsciousness, but not while you’re, well, breaking down about it. You have to face it. Once you’re calm, you can wake yourself up. That’s how it works. It’s psychological.”

And each day in my living hell, I’d get a brief moment of mercy. Tony would come in and talk to me. Help me. And sometimes, he’d vent to me. When it all got too much.

“You know I’m terrified I killed you?” he said on the third day. He’s no longer trying to keep his voice strong. It’s slurred with the sure effects of alcohol.  “Because you aren’t dead, you aren’t gone. You’re living in it all, the pain. For who knows how long. That’s worse than death. I found a fate worse than death for you.”

Somewhere along the way, my thoughts became my own again as it all replayed, over and over and over. It hurt every time, but it became repetitive, and with each time I endured the past, a little bit of me came back, hardening each time. Bracing for it. Fighting it.

And on the eleventh day, I sat in my backyard while my mom called for me to come inside for dinner, and I decided I knew exactly who I was.

I’m Y/N L/N. I was born sometime in the fifties, the result of a forbidden love of a man and a woman who were on two different sides of a civil war. My very existence brought the war to an end. Or so they thought. HYDRA led The Reform to believe they had ended their battle, but instead they had brought their guard down. And when they attacked, my mother and father were executed and I was left for dead. The Reform took me and saw me as a treasure; the sign of what could’ve been, and the sign of the future their revenge would bring. But they weren’t ready. So they froze me and began rebuilding their empire. Then, twenty-five years ago, when they intended on training and disciplining me, then putting me back under, I was raised at a camp. A camp on a lonely road of short buildings. I wasn’t even given a name. Just a number, a code. I was 108. I was their weapon; I was their child.

But eventually, they became too greedy and began to use my skills prematurely. An eight year old assassin, a ghost, flying from place to place, doing their biddings and calling them accidents. I spoke dozens of languages and knew how to use most any weapon given to me. I was ruthless and merciless and murderous. I took down whole governments with the blink of an eye. And when I was suspected, they aborted. The 108 protocol was instated. I was wiped and given to two agents to be raised under their watch. And from there, Y/N L/N, a shy little girl with half the world’s blood on her hands and no knowledge of it, proceeded with a normal childhood. And when they were ready, they took me. They were keeping tabs, all the time, but they didn’t anticipate Tony Stark’s next move: to come after me. That wasn’t in the plan. And all that remains is the balance of the world: whether they decide to proceed without me or not. Whether their oblivion child will lead them to the end. I see it. All of it. And after eleven days, 264 hours, every waking moment replaying it all in full speed, a trip down multiple memory lanes that I didn’t even know existed, after spending every second for nearly two weeks enduring it, I’m exhausted. And I look at my past, with no energy left to pray for help, and I internally sigh. I’m finished with you, I think. Stop controlling me.

And my eyes are opening. My nose is twitching. Some poor young nurse is running into my room with wide eyes. He presses a button on the pager at his waist and approaches me slowly.

“Ma’am, please stay where you are. You’re going to be physically exhausted for the next little while and you won’t be able to move on your own, so don’t be alarmed.” I blink and look up at him, trying to collect my thoughts. I realize what’s happening. I’m awake. I got out. “You’re safe now.” My eyes prickle with tears as I replay his words in my head like a mantra. You’re safe now. I’m safe. I’m here. No more of my past. I’m done with my past.

I’m drifting in and out of consciousness for the next half hour while doctors are streaming into my bedroom to check my vitals and brain activity. I can’t move even if I want to. The very weight of my eyelids seems too much for me. I’m totally limp.

After the thirty minutes, in one of the few moments that I’m awake, I jolt at the sound of my door flying off its hinges and crashing against the wall opposite it. My eyes widen and I turn back to the door frame to see a big red and yellow suit undoing itself from the middle to reveal Tony Stark. He steps out of the suit and approaches me with a million emotions running over his tired face. When he reaches the edge of my bed, his eyes are darting all over my face for a sign of anything at all. I don’t want him to be sad. I try to think of a way to break the tension.

“Doc says I’m practically paralyzed for at least twenty-four hours.” My voice comes out hoarse and scratchy from being unused for so long. I think Tony realizes this, because he’s pressing his lips together, something he does when he’s trying to hide his emotions. “So I assume you’re gonna be delivering me breakfast-in-bed?” I try out a smile, only managing to move my lips up a little. Tony lets out a breath and reaches for my motionless hand. He squeezes it tight.

“It’s good to have you back, kid.” he says softly. Footsteps are moving to the door. Tony and I both look to see a shirtless Dr. Banner with sweat practically dripping off his face and a blanket covering his shoulders. “What took you so long?” Tony says, turning back around and looking at me with a smirk. Dr. Banner pants like an animal and keels over on his knees.

“We…don’t all…have iron man suits, Tony. And I was a little busy trying not to kill millions of New Yorkers.” he wheezes. I look back at Tony’s suit standing guard by the doorless frame.

“You were on a mission?” I ask. My voice is still so raw. Tony nods, still looking at me. Analyzing me. How many months ago had it been, that I was sitting in a conference room, watching him observe me like I was a rare specimen? How little I had known. “Why’d you come?” I frown. “You shouldn’t have left your mission.” Tony lets out an amused exhale.

“You just got out of a coma and you’re scolding me on leaving a mission?” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the rest of the Avengers can hold their own just fine, even without me.” he smirks. I tiredly roll my eyes. Once again feeling drowsy.

Bruce approaches my bed and smiles at me, still breathing heavily. I can’t help but be amused.

“You okay?” I ask. He gives me a look.

“Daddy Daycare over here just made me sprint through half of New York to get here.” he glares a Tony, who shrugs innocently. I let out a sleepy laugh. God. I’m awake. I feel giddy with possibilities. I’m living. It feels like a new day.

“You broke my door.” I say accusingly. My eyes are half closed and I’m not looking at anyone in specific, but Tony responds.

“Well, I was preoccupied on trying to make sure you weren’t dead, kid.” he points out. My lips quirk up into a small smile. It feels so good to do that.

“Yeah, yeah. That better be replaced when I’m up.” I murmur. I can faintly hear Tony respond before returning to my slumber.

“Sure thing, kid.” he lets out another breath. One he’s probably been holding for eleven days.

“BOOOO!” Penny throws a handful of popcorn at my TV. Despite the fact that we’ve watched every episode of Sherlock together at least nine times, she still reacts as if it’s the first. We’d started to binge it ever since I woke up, four days ago. It’s been absolutely boring. After waking up, all I wanted to do was live. I wanted to learn languages and go for a walk in the cold October air and go shopping. I can’t do that in a bed. To be completely honest, I’ve probably been a total nuisance. But I can’t help it.

No one has pushed me to talk about what I endured, but I know it’s coming. I know the moment I’ve regained movement in my limbs, I’ll go back into Dr. Simone’s office. I’ve been pushing the thoughts to the back of my head for the past four days, and having Penny sleeping in my bed with me and keeping me company has helped. We’ve had food brought to us and downloaded tons of shows and movies to keep us busy. Tony drops by to check on us twice a day, just as he does now.

“There a problem?” he peeks through the door. I pout with furrowed eyebrows.

“He jumfpef off the frichkin’ bvuildin’.” I mumble with a face full of popcorn. Tony raises an eyebrow, but leaves it be.

“How’s movement?” he asks. I start stretching the muscles on my face and weakly flail my arms and legs. He chuckles. “You doin’ the exercises?” he raises both his eyebrows.

“Yes, dad.” I stick out my tongue. He purses his lips non-aggressively.

“I swear, you’re getting more annoying by the day.” he jokes. I shrug and try to move my back from its place on the headboard, but it won’t budge.

“You would be too if you just got back from the dead and can’t even move.” I mutter. There’s a different air around the room now. It’s awkward. It’s interrupted by footsteps behind Tony.

“There you are. We have to go. Now.” a female voice says from behind him. Tony turns to the person with an annoyed expression.

“You couldn’t have called?” he says quietly. Penny and I turn to look at each other with confused faces.

“I would’ve if you’d answer.” she huffs. I can see shift from the door, and I catch a moment of black clothing and bright red hair. Penny whips her head over to me.

It’s the Black Widow.” she mouths with wide eyes. I scrunch my nose at her. What? She reaches over and pulls my shoulders to her place on the bed. From her spot, I see the woman’s face; Penny is right. It is her. My jaw drops open as I watch her place a hand on her hip and bicker quietly with Tony. She looks so graceful. So deadly. I look back to Penny, pushes me back into my place. I try to catch a bit of the conversation.

“You can’t keep her from the others forever.” she accuses. Penny hears it too, and looks at me with anxiety written all over her face, because she knows what happened the last time Tony kept something from me.

Eventually, Tony sends her back from where she came from and turns to me.

“What are you keeping from the others?” I blurt. Tony chuckles.

“You get right to the point. Don’t worry. I just haven’t alerted the other Avengers about your situation. They rescued you a few months ago, but they still don’t know much about the operation.” I nod along.

“Are you gonna tell them?” Penny chimes in. Tony looks at the popcorn by the TV and nods.

“Eventually.”

Tags are Open :)

Rescue Tags

@shadow257 @angelicaxmichelle@dumbfuck6969@ipaintmelodies@purplekitten30 @readtosurvivemusictolive@selena8712@1akemi5@agentraven007 @hollycornish@holywinchesterness @1996-counting@seninjakitey @shaerose98 @red-writer13@phoenixiax@mutherfuckinstarboy @smoothdogsgirl@firebendergirl33@dollybarnes@pastapizzacheesedragon @somixedbasic@stay-wokke @thevanishedillusion

Permanent Tags

@cassandras-musings @iamwarrenspeace @janeschwartz1 @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @unicornqueen05 @theradkid @iridescentmusings @mashed-fandom-imagines

if this night is not is not forever, at least we are together

Otayuri Week Day 1: First Times/Confessions

Words: 2.8K 

Featuring: DJ Otabek, Artist Yuri, Photographer Phichit and a whole host of drunken antics. 

AO3 link


It starts with a doodle in the margin of his art history notes that, when he looks at it from the right angle, looks like Otabek. Then there’s the midnight scrawls in his journals when he pours his heart out onto the page in smudgy ink, and when he rereads them the next day, it’s clear in his mind that the rambles that fill page after page are only about one person. Slowly, bits of Otabek start creeping into his art, snippets of things he’s written in journals, half remembered conversations immortalised in paint, some of the writing covered in angry strokes of red acrylic or made barely legible by the ink running down the page. He’s under his skin, and Yuri doesn’t really know why, or how to make it stop, how to make it go away, or anything that could possibly make the situation any better.

And whilst that might well be the start, it’s not technically the beginning.

Keep reading

kyle-broflovski-official  asked:

Creek for the ask thing please! :D

Thank you for sending a message!

  • Who was the one to propose: I…have a very specific answer to this, but I’m planning to answer it in fic form one day, so. Rain check? ;-)
  • Who stressed more over wedding planning: Their self-appointed wedding planner, Clyde. Craig and Tweek were fine with a courthouse wedding, and Clyde’s like ??? You are DECLARING YOUR LOVE TO THE WORLD, you can’t just go to a courthouse!! So, actually, this stresses Tweek out more than Craig, Tweek is stressed.
  • Who decorated the house: Their apartment is a joint effort, using “effort” in the absolute loosest sense of the word. Every surface is covered in Tweek’s mugs and knick knacks, and every wall is covered in Craig’s pictures. Stripe’s little corner of the apartment where his cage and everything is set up is the most put-together.
  • Who is more organized: To quote @edenfire​‘s delightful headcanon: “ tweek is a huge mess and craig is a neat freak. this is a struggle”
  • Who suggested kids first: Craig. He talks about it in the very distant future, but that’s still talking about it. Tweek is hyper-aware of the fact that it came up in conversation at all.
  • Who’s the cuddler: Craig, but he’d never admit it. Tweek knows and doesn’t say anything about it, but if Craig is having a bad day, Tweek casually snuggles up to him. This solves all problems.
  • Who’s the big spoon/little spoon: Craig is usually the big spoon by virtue of being hella tall, but not always. I actually imagine them facing each other more often than spooning.
  • What’s their favorite non-sexual activity: Everything they do together is a non-sexual activity, tbph. Craig likes taking pictures of Tweek, which Tweek gets super embarrassed about (but also it makes him very happy).
  • Who cooks:  Both. Tweek is a pro at cafe food like pastries and sandwiches, and Craig is a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. Tweek makes a regular effort to get more fruits and veggies into the rotation, which is an ongoing process.
  • Who comes home drunk at 3am: I don’t see either of them as drinkers. Tweek hates the idea of not being in control of himself, and he doesn’t like nausea, so he avoids alcohol at all costs; Craig is a born designated driver. Though they’ve probably gone out to pick up friends at 3am before.
  • Who kills the spiders: Craig kills them, like, with his bare hands. Tweek runs around trying to scoop them into newspapers or magazines to ferry them out of the apartment before they meet this gruesome fate. More than once Tweek has been startled into flinging spiders out the window, though.
  • Who falls asleep first: Craig, and he usually sleeps like the dead, but if Tweek pokes him or makes even the smallest sound of distress, he’s awake.
  • A head canon: They’re not really physical, like. At all. I’ve written them as a couple in a bunch of different fic ‘verses, and, to be honest, it doesn’t feel right having them do anything beyond holding hands and The Forehead Touch. And maybe one smooch. I’m going to go back and revise the fics where I strayed from this path.
  • Do they have any “rituals”? Their whole lives are rituals, tbh. Craig is boring and likes his routines, and Tweek is also a lot happier when he knows what he’s doing, where he’s going, and what to expect. Rituals range from the planned, like having a chore chart, to the unspoken, like brushing their teeth at the same time and alternating who spits into the sink.
  • Who has the most patience? Craig. Tweek’s temper is surprisingly quick.
Imagine a big brother style show with the gotham rogues
  • So uv got Ivy, Harley, scarecrow, selina, riddler, and two face. add whoever u like lmao we’re just starting there.
  • theyre all chillin in the same house
  • ofc theres fights. so many.
  • riddler thinks hes funny, two face thinks hes a dick and is more than happy to prove it with his fists
  • riddler, of course, is pathetic so he cant do shit about it but
  • harley loves the fights and likes to make bets. if shes not winning shell intervene so she is.
  • ofc theres a glass closet surrounding ivy and harleys relationship
  • meaning theyre banging
  • almost every night theyre sneaking into each others rooms
  • harley finds trying to keep it down hilarious and selina has stopped asking why harley is laughing in ivys room at 3am
  • Selina herself, of course, is no less sexually proactive
  • no one realises though, and its not until a fire alarm goes off at night and they all have to run outthe house that they see her and Bruce Fuckign Wayne half naked. 
  • she has all the blankets wrapped around her
  • neither of them have the grace to look ashamed
  • After that theres no hiding it and knocking quickly gained popularity within the household
  • ”THE KITCHEN SELINA??” “shouldve knocked”
  • harley thinks this is also hilarious, and often the houses occupants come out to see her chatting animatedly at bruce over morning coffee. 
  • bruce looks like hell warmed over
  • harleys makeup is perfect (u kno she probs uses clown contouring)
  • selina stays in bed shes basically nocturnal lmao
  • scarecrow probably finished any alcohol reserves in the house within the first week.
  • its all gone hes too sober
  • after that though selina is willing to fistfight him for the scotch
  • and basically its all just very domestic but so very not at the same
  • like honestly who the fuck experiments with chemicals on other people scarecrow
  • its fine hes suffering dw abt it
  • feel free to add anything on
  • also thank u @hcrleyquinzel for the insp
Woman of Letters - 11

A/N: I have tried before to stick to  a posting schedule, but I can’t.. So I’m just gonna post whenever I have a chapter ready. Thank you all for your feedback. And thank you to my awesome beta @thorne93

Characters: Sam, Dean, Louisa (OFC)

Pairing: Louisa x ???? (oh yeah… it’s happening… but who??)

Warnings: Language, a tiiiiiiny second of angst, fluff

Worcount: 3219


asthetic by the lovely @hanny-writes-spn


The next morning was.. stressful, to say the least. Sam woke first and hit the shower, Dean followed after Sam was done and Louisa was the last one to clean up. The night before they had realized that Louisa needed to go shopping for some ‘FBI clothes’ and Sam needed to find a place he could make her a fake badge.

Louisa stood in front of the mirror, trying to figure out how to do her hair and makeup to look as professional as possible while her stomach was in knots from nerves. She had no idea what she should expect from this. Sure she had read a lot and she and Sam had worked hard to get her into fighting shape, but this was different. She told herself over and over again that both brothers would be there to look after her, but somehow it did little to comfort her.

A soft knock sounded on the door, followed by Sam’s voice. “We need to get started. You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” she responded. She took one last look at herself before she joined the men in the other room.

She was well aware that these two men were handsome, you had to be blind not to see that, they were both built like gods, she was not prepared for the sight that met her though. Both brothers were dressed in black suits and it nearly took her breath away. Dean was wearing a green tie that really brought out his eyes and they were greener now than she had ever seen them before. Her eyes traveled from his eyes to his freckled nose, to his chiseled jaw and down to his broad shoulders. The sound of Sam clearing his throat snapped her back into reality, and a wave of relief washed over her as she noticed that Dean had his eyes trained on the case file. She still felt a little embarrassed though. Dean might not have noticed, but Sam certainly did.

“You good to go?” Sam questioned with a knowing smile playing on his lips. Louisa nodded her head before she went to get her purse. “Great. I thought it would be best if we split up. I’ll go to the library to make your fake ID and you and Dean can go shopping.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean agreed.

Keep reading

smiledhope  asked:

🍭 from em and me

favourite  candy  ??

anything  w  sugar  in  it  sends  me  up  the  fcking  walls  so  i  try  My  Best  (  aka  not  the  greatest  )  to  refrain  from  eating  them.  however,  being  hyper  is  both  fun  &  fcking  hilarious  so  when  i  eat  sweets  i  go  for  the  ones  that  make  me  most  Mad.  anything  where  you  can  literally  see  the  sugar  on  it,  sour  candy  (  thats  probs  the  worst  ),  haribo  tangfastics  are  also  cool.  chewy  &  boiled,  i  love  them  all  :’)

TalesFromTheFrontDesk: The one where my coworker was crunked on New years Day

Hey TFTFD, just remembered a delightful story from a few years ago that I thought i’d share, as the title says, my coworker is the star of the story.

Now any Front Desk Agent worth his salary knows that New Years morning is a hell of a time to work in a hotel. Parties having gone on all night, fights, alcohol and weed left right and centre, and most definitely deposits ripe for the charging. So I look at my schedule and see im working with Lord Farquaad. Oh dear.

Lord Farquaad (Named because its close enough to his name and kinda exhibits was an asshole he is), was an asshole. hired because he was down on his luck and friends with the owners. He was a bully and a righteous bastard rolled into one. He would regularly prank and bully coworkers and demean them in front of guests, not much more needs to be said, he was an ass. I had my issues with him but would regularly forgive and move on for my own sanity.

So New Years morning im here bright and early 7AM and my best friend who was working the night was properly beat up. He ominously tells me about the fights im gonna have with guests to charge their smoking and partying fees and lumbers out. But its 7:30 and Farquaad isnt here. 8:00,

8:30,

9:00,

Now im starting to call management and figure out where this guy is and why he’s missing when lumbers in at 9:30, two and a half hours later……

And hes drunk. And high, and out of his mind….Great. So Im starting to manage the first groups of people trying to check out, come to the back area and find The Lord himself having ordered an elaborate breakfast on a literal silver platter, enjoying his meal. absolutely refusing to budge until “He’s got his energy in his life bro” (Farquaad 2015).

When I finally tell him I have a line up he comes up and starts FIGHTING with the guests. For example, an older gentlemen was trying to get his deposit we had taken back onto his credit card (it was a pre-authorization), this guy charges it and tries to give him cash back. When the old man says he had given a pre-auth so it could go back to his card and didn’t want cashback, Lord Farquaad started YELLING at him and asking what HIS problem was. The guest I was helping and I stared slackjawed at this encounter. I walked over and told the old man I would have the amount refunded back to his card with a discount applied and thankfully he left, that poor soul. So Farquaad just gives me The hell was wrong with that guy right? look and goes to the back. The guests in the line empathized with what was going on and didnt give me too much trouble, even though I got into a argument here and there and charged a few deposits and called security.

So at 12PM, 3 hours before the shift ends, and completely drained with the final checkout done, I walk to the back looking for a chance to call management and get this guy out of here. He tried to stop me from leaving the desk so I wouldn’t call but I managed to get away and call, and management was sending his replacement early. So all he has to do is stand there because Ive done the last of the checkouts right? Nope. he’s standing and arguing with random passerbys who are “Giving him the evil eye”. So I take a deep breath and send him to the back until his replacement gets here. So standing in the back he started regaling me loudly with his exploits from last night, so anyone at the front can hear. I walk back to the door separating them so he can lower his voice and finish his story. It went as follows.

Our friend got drunk and high, duh, and was thrown out of multiple bars before being invited to a house party. Of course he’s acting like a slimeball (I WAS HITTING ON EVERY BABE IN THERE BRO I KNOW THEY WANTED ME MAAAANN) and being an ass until (THE OWNER OF THE PARTY TURNED INTO SUCH A BITCH AND THREW ME OUT BRO). So on his way out our hero breaks the door handle off and walks away with it. He then recieves calls from the people inside asking him to come back and help them with his broken door to which he responds by putting on his sunglasses, turning around (on the cellphone) and saying"…….See ya later….babe" and walks off, while I assume explosions and gunfire went off behind him.

I honestly think my brain turned off by the time the story ended and I turned around and walked way, staying at the front until his replacement came and shooed him home.

That was one of my worst shifts ever here, and if only I knew the biggest threat that morning would be on my side of the desk.

And thats my story of New Years Day with Lord Farquaad

By: Man-of-Feel

Infatuation

Authors Note: This is my second drabble so far and it wasn’t supposed to be this long but I got carried away. Since im new to writing fan-fiction, I was thinking about writing drabbles first and then I’d work my way up to imagines and one-shots :)))

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Words: 1058

Warnings: insecurity, rejection (kinda)

Originally posted by marvelprincesspants

You know how it feels.

To be in love with someone who doesn’t even spare you a second glance.

To be so infatuated with that one person that every time you see them, or even just think of them, you feel high.

To have various pairs of eyes stare at you with pity whenever you were staring not to subtly.

To have a nightmare and wake up, wishing you could be in that persons arms, but knowing that it will never happen.

To feel heartbroken whenever they would give their attention to someone else, not noticing your efforts.

To cry yourself to sleep every night thinking that there’s something wrong with you. That you’re not pretty enough, you don’t have the perfect body or the perfect hair.

Like a stupid high school crush, but stronger.

And it feels horrible. Just horrible.

And suddenly you can’t take it anymore.

You look down at your lap as Pietro sits back down on the couch after taking up some offer to dance with a fucking Australian model, at least she looked like it anyway.

“You really do know the best clubs to party at.” He grins as he looks around at the mass bodies grinding on each other, probably checking out the girls wearing their short, skimpy dresses.

Tony raises his glass in acknowledgment and throws him his signature smirk. “Of course I do, I’m Tony Stark. Did you forget who I am?”

Everyone ceases their conversations to look at Tony with an exasperated eye roll.

“How could we forget when you’ve only reminded us about a million times?”

“Shut it, Legolas. I’d like to see you find us a place like this.”

Their conversation turns into a little bicker, everyone else putting in a comment or two, all the while you subtly, or so you think, check out Pietro. His stupid hair, the stupid stubble on his chin and that stupid smirk that he always has on. How can he look so calm when he’s literally tearing me apart from the inside?

He’s just messing up my life and he doesn’t even know it.

Besides you, Wanda nudges your arm and pointedly looks at a group of guys checking you out by the bar. She’s heard your thoughts and is trying to tear you attention away from her twin brother, knowing the pain he causes you. Sadly, it’s not that easy.

“Wanda, you know i’m not interested.” She defeatedly sighs and places her glass down on the table before placing her hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, you need to get your mind off Pietro. Find someone else-”

“Right,” You cut her off “because the possibility of me and Pietro being together is a solid 0%?” Not that what you were saying wasn’t entirely true. You’ve thought about it more times than deemed healthy and you’re pretty sure Wanda already knows that.

She shakes her head, “No I’m not saying that at all. It’s just, my brothers pretty stupid and blind-sighted when it comes to girls and feelings. He won’t know what was right in front of him if someone didn’t tell him.”

He’s laughing loudly at something Tony told Clint and you can’t help but smile. “So what you’re telling me is that I need to confess my feelings for him?” Better said than done.

Wanda shrugs her shoulders and picks up her glass.”I don’t know, Y/N. What do you want to do?”

You roll your eyes at Wandas helpful advice and chug down the liquid that was in your glass. I’m going to need all the help I can get to go through with this.

You sit up and walk over to Pietro causing all conversations to pause. You glance around suddenly feeling more nervous than you already were now that all the attention was on you.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?” His accent and the way he says your name is enough to send you into a nervous frenzy, all alcohol in your system long gone.. You close your eyes in attempt to calm your nerves.

“I-um…I-I was j-just-uh..wondering if-” A sultry voice cuts you off and you immediately open your eyes to tell them off but stop short when you come face to face with a literal goddess.

“Hey there, I just couldn’t help myself from coming over here. You look like you’re in need of a little dance.” With the way she says dance you know she’s talking about other things that have absolutely nothing to do with moving rhythmically to music. Her perfectly manicured finger is pointed towards the subject of her statement and you feel a chill go up your spine as you turn around to see who she’s pointing at.

Pietro.

The man you were just about to ask to dance obviously staring in awe at the goddess before him, paying to attention to you.

He smirks and your jaw drops a little as you watch him get up. “Of course.” With that they walk away while you’re stuck in place, staring at the spot Pietro was just occupying.

The spot where he was going to either accept your offer or decline your offer.

The spot where you would’ve gotten the answer to a question that has been nagging you for months, almost a year.

The spot that could’ve changed everything.

But that’s been snatched away from you, which has happened many times but this time it stung a lot worse than the last few times.

The last few times he had actually acknowledged you, telling you ‘sorry’ and ‘you could tell me later’ before disappearing with whoever he was fucking over that night.

But tonight, he had walked away with not even a glance at you, as if you were invisible.

Although you wished you were invisible now as you came to realize the various pairs of eyes around you filled with pity. And they’re all staring at you. Its happened to many times and right now you feel a wave of nausea wash over you as you stumble away from the group. As you walk away in search for something, anything, to take your mind off of Pietro.

Unaware of the hope filled gray-blue eyes that longingly stare after you as you disappear in the crowd.


Part 2

Life lessons, chapter 4

Life Lessons masterlist

There’s more Sebastian and fewer children in this one. The teensiest bit of smut that’s barely worth mentioning.

Here’s Mr Stan in the leather jacket he lends you <3


Being a single parent, you didn’t get out much. So when you DID get a babysitter, you tended to compress months of nights out into one. Which often meant months of alcohol all at once. Which often led to bad decisions.  Isabel had gone to stay with your Mum for two nights over New Year – neither of them would cope with any longer, but they’d have a great time, and it gave you a little breather.  You’d arranged with a group of friends to go out on New Year’s Eve, and by 8pm you were all already well down a range of brightly coloured overly sweet drinks and getting louder. They knew ALL about your crush on Sebastian and all the thoughts you’d had about him (and you knew about their crushes too), and things were definitely getting debauched.

So when you saw Sebastian with a group of friends in the same bar, sensible decisions went out of the window. A clue to this was when you stood up at your table, screeched at your friends, and pointed in a not-very-subtle way across the bar, shouting ‘OH MY GOD IT’S HIM HE’S SO SEXY’.  There was no way he hadn’t heard, or indeed anyone in the bar. Or the street. He looked over and waved and you collapsed back into your chair shrieking and giggling.

Keep reading