also write me back!

sanvers high school au where alex has a big gay crush on maggie and starts an anonymous instagram poetry account where she writes cheesy sapphic poetry

and then it BLOWS UP and the whole school is following it and speculating who the author is because it gets really fucking romantic and all these girls are swooning and alex swears to never come clean because it’s embarrassing af 

and people start trying to compare everyone’s handwriting to this account’s but alex manages to get away with it because she’s one of those people who can write in like 7 different fonts of handwriting

but duh maggie knows it’s alex because they’ve had english together since freshman year and she always sees the little poems alex doodles in the margins but she doesn’t know it’s meant for her but she’s had a crush on alex for AGES

so she starts quoting alex to alex in all of their conversations and alex starts bugging out and realises that maggie knows but she’s still too nervous to make the first move

so she writes a poem that’s explicitly about maggie (idk dimples and short or some other shit) and maggie pulls her behind the bleachers and kisses her and alex was like ‘they were all about you, you know’ 

and then they make out a bit more

✍ Finally, an ask-meme for writers! ✍
  • 01: When did you first start writing?
  • 02: What was your favorite book growing up?
  • 03: Are you an avid reader?
  • 04: Have you ever thrown a book across the room?
  • 05: Did you take writing courses in school/college?
  • 06: Have you read any writing-advice books?
  • 07: Have you ever been part of a critique group?
  • 08: What’s the best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten?
  • 09: What’s the worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten?
  • 10: What’s your biggest writer pet-peeve?
  • 11: What’s your favorite book cover?
  • 12: Who is your favorite author?
  • 13: What’s your favorite writing quote?
  • 14: What’s your favorite writing blog? c;
  • 15: What would you say has inspired you the most?
  • 16: How do you feel about movies based on books?
  • 17: Would you like your books to be turned into TV shows, movies, video games, or none?
  • 18: How do you feel about love triangles?
  • 19: Do you prefer writing on a computer or longhand?
  • 20: What’s your favorite writing program?
  • 21: Do you outline?
  • 22: Do you start with characters or plot?
  • 23: What’s your favorite & least favorite part of making characters?
  • 24: What’s your favorite & least favorite part of plotting?
  • 25: What advice would you give to young writers?
  • 26: Which do you enjoy reading the most: physical, ebook, or both?
  • 27: Which is your favorite genre to write?
  • 28: Which do you find hardest: the beginning, the middle, or the end?
  • 29: Which do you find easiest: writing or editing?
  • 30: Have you ever written fan-fiction?
  • 31: Have you ever been published?
  • 32: How do you feel about friends and close relatives reading your work?
  • 33: Are you interested in having your work published?
  • 34: Describe your writing space.
  • 35: What’s your favorite time of day for writing?
  • 36: Do you listen to music when you write?
  • 37: What’s your oldest WIP?
  • 38: What’s your current WIP?
  • 39: What’s the weirdest story idea you’ve ever had?
  • 40: Which is your favorite original character, and why?
  • 41: What do you do when characters don’t follow the outline?
  • 42: Do you enjoy making your characters suffer?
  • 43: Have you ever killed a main character?
  • 44: What’s the weirdest character concept you’ve ever come up with?
  • 45: What’s your favorite character name?
  • 46: Describe your perfect writing space.
  • 47: If you could steal one character from another author and make then yours, who would it be and why?
  • 48: If you could write the next book of any series, which one would it be, and what would you make the book about?
  • 49: If you could write a collaboration with another author, who would it be and what would you write about?
  • 50: If you could live in any fictional world, which would it be?

anonymous asked:

ANDREW ACCIDENTALLY CALLING NEIL CUTE IN FRONT OF THE FOXES P L E A S E

IT IS OFFICIALLY MY SEMESTER BREAK!!!!!! ajfhdajkhfdajh this is the best prompt EVER let me have this self-indulgent headcanon

  • the foxes, because they like a.) challenges and b.) making money out of these challenges, get the idea to play Andreil Trope Bingo
  • nicky starts it, purely out of boredom, as well as out of the desire to spite kevin for being too exy-focused even if the season’s over
  • he creates a card with things like “andrew buying food for neil” “neil smiling behind andrew’s back” “one talking about the other when the other is not there” “andrew hurting someone for neil” “rooftop date” “andreil going late to practice together”
  • after the whole team making edits to the bingo card, a copy is given to everyone
  • word gets around, but as andrew and neil are two of the most oblivious people in the world, they don’t catch wind of it
  • eventually, everybody (including wymack and bee) gets in on it, because the pot rises to be two grand (can you guys believe? two fucking grand for a couple’s trope bingo)
  • they make it a race of sorts - as andrew and neil aren’t normally affectionate in public (neil being the more touchy of the two, but still severely lacking in comparison to the stereotype of Normal Couples), they all have to be there at certain times of the day
  • dan clearly established the “no fishing rule” at the start but some of them can’t help themselves - they’re just really lucky sometimes
  • renee is the first to check “andrew wearing one of neil’s shirts” after she notices at their weekly sparring session
  • aaron (unluckily enough) gets the first shot at “andreil making out by the lockers” after his shift to tidy up the court
  • nicky is first witness at “one being lowkey possessive over the other” when he catches a glimpse of andrew frowning down someone at the bar for checking out neil
  • at the end of it all, they’re all left with one box blank
  • “andrew calling neil cute”
  • and everybody is just ??????
  • because andrew would never do that. not in a million years
  • only neil seems like the type to do so - but even neil hasn’t said anything of the sort
  • everybody’s panicking because they’re all so close yet so far away
  • fast forward; it’s been a little over a month since everyone’s only got that last box blank, and they’ve all been fishing
  • matt has asked, on multiple occasions, what andrew thought of neil when he smiled
  • allison has pointed out how good neil looked when she gave him her last haircut
  • bee even got ahold of neil’s baby pictures and showed them to andrew on a visit of his
  • wymack, at some point, tried asking if “cute” was really the specific word they all needed to hear (”What if he says ‘adorable’? You know Minyard gets all wordy at some point.”)
  • they all flail around for another week until the foxes’ weekly movie night
  • it happens on a thursday at neil and andrew’s room, because it was their turn
  • everyone is seated around the television, either on armchairs, the sofa, or on beanbags
  • neil coughs and pounds his chest
  • andrew gets up from the sofa so fast and gets neil a glass of water
  • upon getting the glass, neil goes “Ah.That was just a test. Thanks for putting in the effort.”
  • neil is smirking and all, thinking he’s so clever, the cheeky bastard
  • and no one is prepared for andrew’s “Mmm. That’s cute. Move over.”
  • everybody is suddenly scrambling for their cards in their pockets
  • IT’S LIFE OR DEATH AT THIS POINT, PEOPLE
  • THAT LAST BOX IS ALL THAT M A T T E R S
  • nicky is like “Shit shit shit shit shit shit–”
  • kevin frustratingly goes “Where the fuck is my pen–”
  • bee is like “That’s unfair, I didn’t bring my card!”
  • it’s dan-the-legend-wilds that gets to cross out the box first and she yells (half-drunkenly) “BingobingobingobingoBINGO MOTHERFUCKERS!!”
  • matt’s like “Babe we’re going halfsies on that right–” while allison yells “THAT”S GOING INTO OUR NAIL POLISH FUND!”
  • wymack is in the moment and is like “Dan, you’re sharing with me, or you’re out of the fucking team.”
  • renee is groaning and shaking her head while aaron is just shrugging and texting katelyn he lost
  • in the midst of the chaos and debating-who-got-it-first is andrew and neil, clueless as fuck, staring at them all and at one another
  • neil is blinking in confusion while andrew is stony-faced
  • they go out of the room and leave the madness that is the foxes coming up with another bet and searching for money in their wallets
Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Epilogue

April 2

Simon

Waking up in Baz’s bed is too soft to describe.  Technically, I’m sure his bed is no softer than my own, but now there’s another level of soft, one that goes beyond a physical body-soft.  Soft like my entire soul is encased in cotton fluff. Heart-soft.

“Baz?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, just smiles a little, and his sleepy smile has my heart skipping.  “Simon?”

Crowley, just hearing him say my name, and in a voice still heavy with sleep, is enough to have me swooning a little.

           “It’s April second.”

           “Yes it is.”

           “Do you still love me?”

           Baz pulls me closer and when he speaks his lips brush my forehead.  “Today, tomorrow, every day after that.”

           His shirt is my new favourite smell and I bury my nose in it.  “It’s funny, if you think about it?”

           “Hm?”

           “We both told the truth yesterday,” I muse.  “We pranked each other every day except April Fool’s Day.”

           He chuckles deep within his throat.  “We really are pathetic.”

           “Guess that makes us both April Fools, huh?”

           “Speak for yourself, love,” he laughs, and I’m so gone.

Baz

“So,” Simon murmurs after a few more moments of silent heaven, “is the game over?”

           I shrug with one shoulder.  “Who won?”

           “Me.”

           “Really?” I raise an eyebrow.  “How?”

           “I’ve got you wrapped in my wings, Baz, it doesn’t get much better than this.”

           “I dunno,” I grin, “I think I definitely won.”

           Simon scoffs.  “As if.”

           “I’m wrapped in your wings.”

           “Well, I finally get to touch your hair.”

           “I can make you blush without even trying.”

           “I can shut you up by kissing you.”

           “Oh yeah?” I pull back far enough to meet his eye. “Care to demonstrate?”

           He’s laughing as he obliges me, kissing me gently like his lips are still sore from the seemingly endless kissing last night. I don’t remember having the strength to pull away long enough to climb back inside the room, or to change into our nightclothes, but at some point it must have happened.  Between toothpaste kisses and disbelieving grins.  I’d been a little afraid to suggest sharing a bed (I thought it might scare him away), but he’d climbed in beside me like he fit there, like the spot had been meant for him all along.  I don’t think we ever stopped kissing, just fell into place and stayed there until the dizziness turned into dreams.

           “Crowley,” I mumble against his lips, soft like rose petals.

           “What?”

           “Aleister Crowley.”

           He giggles.  “What, Baz?”

           “Do you still love me?”

           His eyes are a different blue every time I look at them, like the sky.  Right now they’re the horizon just after the orange leaks out of the sunrise.

           Simon kisses my forehead.  “Today…”

           Kisses my nose.  “Tomorrow…”

           Kisses my mouth, deep and long.  “Every day after that.”

           I’m so gone.

           “I’m living a charmed life.”

at last (i see the light)

Summary: Of a tower, a missing prince with the sun in his hair and the ability to heal with a touch, and a terrible-dangerous-very-bad bandit who’s never been altogether good at being very bad, dangerous, or terrible.

An AU based off of Disney’s Tangled.

Nico di Angelo grows up with stories of the prince lost to time.

Keep reading

primruesabcd  asked:

Prompt! Tomione with: are you?? sabotaging?? my dates?!?!?

Hermione had never been one to date frequently. She didn’t like the process–pick a potential partner, engage in small talk for minutes and hours and days and weeks, small talk mixed with desperate attempts to impress–it was stressful and messy and she just never liked it. She contented herself to a quiet life to herself, with her angry, vicious, but overall loveable cat as the receiver of her affection. 

Then of course, Tom Riddle happened. 

And then it ended.

(Horribly)

And somehow when it ended, when he was gone, the time she used to spend comfortably on her own was tainted somehow, thick with a horrible sort of loneliness that made every other relationship she had–friends and colleagues and cats–seem unimportant and useless. She had grown accustomed to spending time with him, even time alone or time unwinding had been with him, reading or cooking or sleeping or working with him, always with him, so that everything she did she was fundamentally lacking because he wasn’t there. She would reach up to the top shelf of her cabinet and he wouldn’t be there to swipe something down for her, condescending not-quite-a-smile on his lips. She would open up Nietzche’s Beyond Good and Evil and he wouldn’t be there at her back or at her side to tear into every word in the novel to try and incite her to a debate. She couldn’t so much as wake up in the morning or brush her teeth or take a shower or go to the grocery store without feeling the absence of him like some stupid lovesick–

So, she dated.

And it was shit.

And he was always there when it all went wrong.

Her first date she met on a dating app, because Harry and Ron had signed her up for three (and it was her opinion that they had much too much fun making those dating profiles for her) and though she had been staunchly against the idea of meeting someone on a dating app, she found that the person she met didn’t seem quite as horrible as she would have expected. His name was Oliver, and he was a bit older than her, and very obsessed with football, but he was also rather lovely. He was polite and fairly well-read, he indulged her in her brief literary rants when she started on them. He was nice.

Neither of them ordered shellfish–he told her at the beginning of the date he was rather fiercely allergic–but that apparently didn’t stop shellfish from making its way onto their plates without their knowing. And that imbecile didn’t carry an epi-pen on him, so Hermione had to rush him to the hospital while his face swelled and he could hardly breathe and she saw him there, at the bar, just sitting there and watching as she dragged her dying date out the door.

Oliver was fine, in the end, but they never went on another date.

Her second date she met at a bus stop which, to be fair, was a rather stupid place to meet a date. He approached her, offered a borderline insulting compliment about her hair, and asked her out for a drink. And Hermione was hungover from a night of drinking alone in her flat where she had drunkenly purchased an extremely expensive, brand new play tower for her cat which he would never use, so she said yes. 

His name was Cormac, and he definitely wasn’t the worst man she had ever met, but he was definitely near the bottom. He was narcissistic, and condescending, but then so was Tom, and she had loved him anyway. So she ignored the little things that annoyed her and tried for once in her life to just have fun and stop wallowing in her self-pity. Besides, she couldn’t expect a perfect date with a bloke she met only a few hours ago at a bus stop.

Then his girlfriend showed up, screaming, drunk, and Hermione didn’t stick around long enough to find out if it was a current girlfriend or ex-girlfriend before the girl tried to start a physical fight with Hermione, at which point Hermione just up and left. She was probably lovely when she wasn’t drunk, Hermione figured, whoever she was. It wasn’t as if Hermione was a perfect human being when she was drunk–she had bought a £250 play tower for her cat about 24 hours ago, after all.

And who should be there when she leaves the pub but him, across the street, waiting at the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. She remembered pausing on the pavement to meet his gaze from across the street, and she wanted to badly to cross traffic and punch him in the sodding face, but when the bus paused in front of him and blocked him from her view, she hurried down the street away from him and got drunk enough to buy cat-wine so she would stop drinking alone.

Her third date she met at a club. Ginny Weasley dragged her to some club in London when Hermione confided in her how many horrendous drunken purchases she had made in the past week with the promise of stopping her if she tried to buy anything else for her bloody cat. And she met a man who called himself Gilderoy. He was older and very handsome, very drunk, and very loud. He kept telling her increasingly ridiculous stories and insisting they were true, and he kissed her like he was licking frosting off of a cake. 

But then there was a fire, apparently, and the entire club was evacuated, and in the freezing cold without the haze of the alcohol and the music his presence was marginally more difficult to endure, and she was cold and tired and angry and drunk and when his freezing fingers slid up under her shirt without even asking she just acted on instinct and elbowed him in the gut. And he, like an overdramatic lunatic, fell to the ground as if she had just stabbed him, and she swore she saw him in the crowd when she pushed through to get away from the blonde bastard writhing on the pavement, she swore she saw him–

So she just left and called an uber and went home and paid some artist on the internet to paint a picture of her cat to hang on the wall because he would probably be dead in a few years and she wanted to remember him, then she drunkenly cried about her dead cat who wasn’t yet dead for a few hours and texted Ginny in the morning to tell her she failed on her promise to be her impulse control.

Her fourth date was a friend of Harry’s boyfriend, his name was Blaise and apparently he was a ‘good match for her’ but Hermione was fairly certain when Harry said that he really just meant ‘you’re both single so just go for it what’s the worst that could happen’ and she agreed because it didn’t matter that it had been months since her break up, she still felt his absence like a hole in her chest, and she figured pointless dates that she didn’t want in the first place were better than sitting in her flat on her own.

But he didn’t show up.

Instead, Tom did. Just sat down in the seat in front of her in the much-too-expensive restaurant as if he belonged there.

“You can’t sit there,” She told him, “I have–”

“He’s not coming.” He answered simply, reaching across the table to pick up her wine glass and take a sip without asking, setting it down and picking up the menu to peer over it without elaborating.

“Why not?” She seethed. 

“Because he’s in the hospital,” He explained slowly, enunciating the words slowly and distractedly, and she was so angry at him she felt like she could reach across the table and throttle him until his face went blue and not feel a shred of guilt. 

The realization felt like a slap in the face.

“Are you–” She choked, her mouth twisting with disbelief, “Sabotaging my dates?”

He slammed the menu back on the table, the false-calm countenance fading away so quickly it was as if it had never been there to begin with the tension of his shoulders coupled with the heat of his eyes both unexpected and familiar, and it was only when she felt the headiness of his gaze that she realized he had not looked at her until that moment. “You shouldn’t be dating.” He said evenly.

“I believe I’m the one with the power to make that decision,” She reminded him viciously, “Not you. We broke up.”

“I never consented to breaking up.” He muttered, leaning back in his seat that was characteristic of him when attempting to appear nonplussed. 

“Never consented–?” She narrowed her eyes, her hands curling into fists in her lap, “You facilitated the break up!” 

“I did no such thing.” He even had the nerve roll his eyes as if she was the one being ridiculous, as if she was the one acting like a child.

“You are always like this,” She seethed, turning her gaze skyward with a bitter laugh, “Controlling and possessive like a petulant child–” His eyes snapped back to meet hers, the corner of his jaw twitching as if he was grinding his teeth, “–Just tell me where Blaise is.” 

“I already told you.” He intoned.

“Which hospital?” She pressed, but she could tell even before she asked it that he had no intention of telling her. She huffed, picked her purse up and made to leave, “Fine, I’ll find him myself–” But before she could manage, he had lurched forward to grab her arm to halt her from leaving.

“There’s no point,” He told her, “It’s not as if he’s in critical condition, he only broke his leg.”

“You mean you broke his leg.” She corrected.

“That is a bold accusation.” He drawled, and she hated how much she had missed that tone, teasing and sarcastic, the tone he used whenever she was right and he wouldn’t admit it. She couldn’t respond right away, just glare furiously at him, until she finally managed to make herself move, to wrench her arm away from his hand and throw enough money on the table to pay for the wine so she could leave.

She made it about ten paces away from the restaurant before he caught up to her again, his long fingers wrapping around her arm. She jerked away immediately, but he held fast this time. “Let go of me!” He maneuvered her to the side, pressing her against the wall to stop her from pulling away. 

“It’s not as if you even want any of these men,” He said quite severely, “I don’t understand why you are so upset–”

“You never understand why I’m upset,” She fired back, “Because you’re an emotionally-stunted–”

“Everything I do makes you upset,” He argued.

“Well then maybe you should stop being such a rotten bastard!” She snapped, “You were the one who caused this. I asked you–I asked you if you saw a future with me and you said no. What the hell am I supposed to do? Just wait around for you to get bored of me like you do everyone else?”

“You’re not everyone else.” 

“I don’t know what that fucking means Tom!” She snapped, “Why can’t you just for once say what you feel instead of counting on me to read between the lines?”

His palms cupped her jaw suddenly, his fingers threading through the hair at the back of her head in a way that was almost painful as he held her still. But he didn’t say anything, he just stared at her in a moment of silence, his lips parted as if ready to speak but instead, he kissed her.

She really shouldn’t have indulged him. She should have pushed him away and maybe punched him for good measure, but she had spent months dreaming about his lips and his tongue and his hands and his everything. Maybe it was a little pathetic that she caved so easily, but all it took was the scrape of his teeth on her bottom lip for her to sigh against his lips, her hands gripping at his back like a lifeline.

His face felt rougher, which was an odd sensation in and of itself. He always kept himself meticulously put together, closely shaved and finely styled. But as he licked into her mouth she could feel the coarseness of his chin against hers. His fingers dug into the back of her head, the length of his body pressed against hers. There was something shockingly tender about the way his thumbs fanned across her cheeks, the way he relaxed his fingers to allow his hands to rest against her throat as his mouth eased away from hers.

She thought she recognized the look in his eyes when he pulled away enough for her to see. She thought she understood when she reached out and felt the coarseness of his cheek against her palm. 

“You told me no.” She reminded him.

“I didn’t mean it.” He said.

“Then why did you say it?” She asked a bit desperately, trying to reconcile the strangely tender way he handled her now with the disregard he had shown her before. His jaw clenched, she saw the twitch in the corner of his jaw and felt it under her palm. She thought that he wouldn’t answer, resigned herself to his silence and weighed her options in her head, whether it was worth it to risk his inevitable disinterest just to have a few more moments with him.

“Nothing good lasts.” He told her finally. Startled, her hand fell from his face ot lay limp on his shoulder. It was the most personal admission she was sure she had ever heard from him.

“You think we’re good?” She asked carefully. His lips twitched downward into what as almost a frown.

“No,” He said, his thumb brushing across the skin under her eye. “I think you’re good.”

“You told me you don’t believe in ‘good.’“ She said quietly. He didn’t answer except for another clench of his jaw.

She took a deep breath. It was filled with the sent of him, a heady reminder of his presence, as if she needed one with him pressed against her. She didn’t think about the fights they had, the inevitable blow up that was their break up, the controlling possessive way he regarded her when it suited him and the tenderness he offered almost as a tool to draw her back in when his control wavered. Instead she thought of how miserable she was without him. She thought of the way he sometimes looked at her like she amazed him, she thought of how easy it was to share her time and space with him. She thought of how desperately she wanted to let go of all the horrible, sad things just to be with him again.

So she let it go. She curled her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him again.

When she pulled away she said, “You’re paying for Blaise’s medical bills.” And in spite of his irritated frown she continued, “And you’re taking me to whatever hospital he’s at so I can be sure he’s alright.”

Begrudgingly, he did as she said. 

Afterward, they went home, and for the first time in months she didn’t feel like a stranger in her own flat.

(He did raise a judgemental eyebrow at the sudden influx in cat toys and may have scoffed at the sight of Crookshanks looking down upon them from the top of his cat tree, but he said nothing.)

The two stages of writing:

1: Writes endlessly without distraction, the words flow easily and nothing hurts, final word count is in the thousands, you are a triumphant and radiant master of the pen

2: Spends 4 hours trying to eke out 300 words. Each keystroke is labored, every other word is a typo, you’ve changed tenses three times in the same sentence, grammar and sentence structure begin to deconstruct themselves, you’ve forgotten what an adjective is, you find yourself mindlessly refreshing your dash every 8 minutes just to escape the hellscape of Microsoft word

don’t fear the reaper

Summary: Legends tell of a valiant warrior, blessed by the divine, betrayed by the leader he fought so hard to serve, locked into an eternal half-life. Called goblin, this man lives forever, watching the years pass him by, until his fated other half can release him.

(It’s funny, Nico thinks. They say legends are always a little true.)

General Nico di Angelo is killed at noontime, under a sky as blue as his lover’s eyes.

It happens like this, like divine retribution for the guilt he keeps pressed between his fingers. He returns from the war triumphant and blood-stained, followed by a legion of adoring soldiers and whispers of divinity, of spirits, of death. His name has spread across the continent, passed between enemy lips, like a promise. A warning.

If the fates abandon you, and you meet the man with clothes as black as midnight and a sword red as blood, turn back, turn back.

You will not survive him.

Keep reading

3

He actually got it, but I could paid to see the face of the R&D technician.
With regret, I didn’t found something funny to put on the tablet v_v

cantankerouskaputnik  asked:

Can you tell us a little about food in Finland, like... What do you eat day to day? What are sweets like? Which fast food chains are the most popular? or something else you think is interesting. Thank you! :D


Thank you for the ask! I can tell you a lot about food in Finland, fortunately, because both of my parents happen to be cooks, so I can ask about stuff from them. A lot the information I’ll tell you probably came from them.

Well, first off, I want to say that today Finnish people often eat food that isn’t necessarily traditionally Finnish or anything, for example my town has at least 5 pizza-kebab restaurants, and spaghetti is very popular. This thing called “raketti-spagetti” is sold in stores, it’s just normal spaghetti but cut into shorter pieces, and the name literally means rocket-spaghetti. I’m not sure how that name came to be, but it rhymes, so maybe it just sounded funny…? I don’t know. Stuff like rice is pretty common too, even though it’s in no way traditionally Finnish. Anyway, I’m sure that a similar phenomenon (the international foods thing, not raketti-spagetti) exists in almost every country.

Also, the Finnish cuisine has gotten a lot of influence from our dear neighbours, Sweden and Russia. Especially Sweden. So anyway, if you’re from either one of those countries and I say that something is Finnish when your country has the exact same thing, please blame my ancestors for not being more original. Although I’d like to hear about foods or customs similar to these I’m about to mention from other countries, so if you’d like to, please share them in the tags!

Okay, so I think I’ll start with the fast food- part of the question.

Finland doesn’t have that many fast food chains, really. We have McDonald’s, Burger King, Subway, and soon a few Taco Bells. Like, three. BUT! We do have a chain of our own, Hesburger, which is my personal favorite out of these. It is the most popular fast food chain in Finland, with 268 restaurants. For comparison, McDonald’s has 65, Burger King 32, and Subway 155 restaurants here.

If you want to have a taste of Hesburger’s food, but don’t want to come all the way to Finland, that’s totally fine! There are Hesbugers in eight other countries, too: Estonia (42 restaurants), Latvia (44), Lithuania (47), Russia (34), Germany (3), Ukraine (3), Bulgaria (3) and Belarus (1). Pretty impressive for a chain from such a small country, huh?

I hope this doesn’t sound too much like an ad, this post is not sponsored by Hesburger. I just think it’s pretty neat. I don’t know where the restaurants are more specifically, but I’ve been to Tallinn and there were a few Hesburgers there. They have really good paprika-mayonnaise! Just saying.

Scratch that, I now know where is the Hesburger farthest from Finland: 

Now, for sweets, I think I’ll have to make their own post, but we do have a lot of different kinds of candy in Finland, since we have two bigger and several smaller candy manufacturers, the two big ones being Fazer and Panda. Fazer also makes bread and cookies.

Popular candies are suklaa (chocolate) in different forms - bars, slabs (?? I hear that is also called a bar sometimes? Like smaller bars like Snickers and then slabs like the one I’ll show a picture of), chocolates, like the ones sold in a box, with filling or without, you get the idea, a lot of chocolate - and, of course, salmiakki, salty liquorice. Salmiakki candies get their amazing/awful taste from ammonium chloride. Mmmm. Potentially life-threatening chemicals combined. Delicious. (pic source)

Here is perhaps the most iconic Finnish sweet: Fazerin sininen, Fazer’s Blue. It’s just simple old milk chocolate and yet is the most popular candy in the country. Is it really that good?

Yes. Yes it is. The shade of blue used in the wrapping is trademarked*, by the way.

Okay, moving on to the day-to-day stuff…

In Finland we drink the most maito (milk) in the world per capita, a bit over 360 liters. The 2nd is Sweden by the way, with around 356 liters. We also consume the most kahvi (coffee) per capita, the national average being around 2.6 cups. Seriously, people here drink coffee all the time. In the morning, after lunch, when you come to visit you can be sure you’ll be offered a cup of coffee, at weddings, at funerals, with dessert, I mean, all the goddamn time. Sometimes they don’t even have a reason I’m sure. You know when at work there are those shorter breaks? In Finland a break like that is called kahvitauko. It means coffee break, which I’m sure is a familiar concept in other countries too.

But yeah, people do drink milk at every meal - not everyone, of course, but most people - and for people who are lactose intolerant there are special kinds of milks where the lactose has been processed already, so lactose intolerant people can drink it safely.

This is our fridge. That milk probably lasts like half a week. The light blue one is fat-free.

‘There is also this thing called piimä, which is a drinkable product made from milk with Lactic acid fermentation. It’s not my favorite, but it’s okay.

Maito versus piimä. (source

Apparently there is a strict divide in Finland between west and east, where west likes piimä better, but east prefers something called kokkelipiimä, which, to me, sounds very suspicious, and I did not know it even existed. It’s piimä with something more solid also made from milk mixed into it. Looks like this.

I seriously had never heard of it. I do live in the western half, so I suppose the divide is real. Huh. (source)

A traditional Finnish drink, kotikalja, is often drunk at fancier occasions, for example at the Christmas meal or at some other celebration, like weddings or such. It has a bit of alcohol, but so little that it doesn’t really count as an alcoholic beverage. Wikipedia tells me that it’s similar to Estonian kali, Swedish svagdricka, Dutch oud bruin and Russian kvass. It’s not the same, but it’s similar. People drink it with food.

(source also includes a recipe for kotikalja)

 There is a Finnish word ruokajuoma, which means any drink that is often drunk at meals, like water or kotikalja or milk and sometimes also juice.

This post is getting really long, sorry about that. Anyway, we eat a lot of different keittoja (soups) here too. Most of the time they contain potatoes (perunaa), carrots (porkkanaa), possibly other vegetables, and some meat (lihaa). Kalakeitto (fish soup) can be creamy (I love it) or clear (not so good). Lihakeitto (meat soup) and jauhelihakeitto (minced meat soup)are usually clear as well. There is also hernekeitto, which is made from peas, minced meat or ham or something and some carrot. People can add mustard and onion to it. It’s often eaten on Thursdays, a habit that has spread from the army. There every Thursday is hernekeittopäivä, hernekeitto-day. With hernekeitto the dessert is usually pancake with jam. (pic source)

The pancake, pannukakku, doesn’t look like what you might expect, though. It’s like this.

(source)

What is the closest relative to the other kind of pancake is called lettu here, or räiskäle, and it’s closer to a crêpe or a blin. (An actual blin, in Finland there is some misconception about blinis being small and thick… things, but maybe people would otherwise mistake them for a räiskäle?) (source)

 They are usually eaten with jam or sugar or whipped cream, or ice cream, or berries, or all of them. There are also muurinpohjaletut, which are cooked differently. (source)

A very basic dish we eat a lot here is potatoes and some kind of kastike (sauce). The sauce usually has pieces of meat, or sausage, or minced meat. We use a lot of minced meat. The picture example is made with makkara (sausage). (source)

When it comes to leipä (bread) I might be a little biased, because my parents bake a lot of bread themselves. Most households usually have at least two types of bread available, some lighter bread like piimälimppu for example, and ruisleipä. It is very Finnish, even though rye bread is eaten elsewhere too. In grocery stores you can find many shelves full of it. There are even rye chips here! Not French fries, or potato chips, really, more like nachos. But made from rye. Weird. (source of pic below)

One of the many forms of rye bread. (source)

Usually the shelves would be full but it was late and almost juhannus. That’s all for rye bread there. (Don’t mind my sister’s hand btw)

You can get rye bread in dried from too, all crunchy and pretty tough. Examples of this, dry, crunchy, though perhaps not that tough bread are näkkileipä and hapankorppu. Näkkileipä is often served in schools, since it doesn’t go bad easily. Both näkkileipä and hapankorppu are the best when they have some butter (voi) on top, at least I think so.

Hapankorppu in the front, näkkileipä in the back. 

“Which side do you put the butter on?” is a common topic of debate between Finnish people. (It’s the side without the holes, fight me)

And yet another traditional Finnish food that’s eaten like bread and has rye in it, is karjalanpiirakka, Karelian pie. It’s basically rice porridge in a crust made from rye flour. It is also called riisipiirakka. There are other versions of it as well, for example they can have mashed potato instead of rice in them. It’s traditionally eaten with munavoi, boiled egg and butter mixed together. It is heavenly. It’s the stuff in the picture way up there, actually, but I’ll refresh your memory.

(source)

Another pretty basic, and quite traditional Finnish food that is still pretty popular as I understand, is makaronilaatikko, macaroni casserole, made of macaroni, minced meat, and a mixture of milk and egg. All the ingredients are put together and mixed, and cheese is put on top, though not in traditional versions. Then the whole thing is put into the oven and cooked for some time, and then eaten usually with ketchup. It’s one of my favorite foods.

(source)

Fish is eaten fairly often, but pork, chicken and beef are probably more common. In summer we eat a lot of sausages and nakki (frankfurters) (?? I have never heard this word). Most common spices are salt, suola and pepper, pippuri. There are also a ton of prepared foods in markets, and I mean a lot. Whole aisles, many meters, of foods like makaronilaatikko or jauhelihakeitto that you just need to warm up. Convenient. One of my favorites are pinaattiletut, small lettus with spinach in them. I like them a lot. There are also the same kinds of small lettus made with carrot. Oh, and also blood. They’re called veriletut in Finnish.

(source)

Well, I’d love to tell you more, but this post is already way too long, so. I’ll end it here. If you want to know more of something specific I mentioned, ask, and I’ll try to get a post made. I’m planning on covering a few topics here more in depth in the future, but we’ll see.

Oh, also, a lot of the sources for the pictures in this post also feature a recipe, though they’re in Finnish. If you’d like me to translate one of them so you can try it out, just ask!

Thank you for the ask again!

(*edited because I, the smart person I am, mixed up copyright and trade marks. Sorry about that.)

anonymous asked:

Just curious-- what makes the 2009 Emma adaptation a work of art?

*cracks knuckles* *pulls out color coded binder* I’m so glad you asked.

I’ve seen a lot of Emma adaptations: Clueless, Emma (1996), Aisha, the other BBC series (the one with Kate Beckinsdale and Mark Strong), Emma Approved, and of course, the 2009 BBC Miniseries. The 2009 version is my favorite, it always has been, and it always will be. Most of that comes down to characterization, but it is also about the way it captures Austen’s story magnificently though language, set design, costuming, and music.

Keep reading

Headcanon: Otabek, like Victor, has a Thing for seeing his boyfriend in his clothes, and ever since Barcelona he has been quietly buying things with animal prints and cats on them and wearing them around just so that they’ll be soft and well-worn and full of his scent if he ever gets around to telling Yura how he feels. Said confession takes another two Grands Prix, impatient nudging from his fellow skaters, and a truly staggering amount of clear-in-hindsight flirting, but when they do start dating Yuri goes for those clothes first thing, unabashedly pulling them straight from Otabek’s closet into his suitcase (he doesn’t wear a single one of the shirts he brought that first visit). Otabek would congratulate himself on his foresight except that Yuri steals and wears the rest of Otabek’s clothes as well. Anything goes. Team Kazakhstan sweats, Otabek’s leather jacket, the suspenders from his last juniors free skate (“I thought we agreed those were a mistake,” Otabek says. “Nothing is a mistake on me,” Yuri replies, snapping a strap against his chest, and Otabek has to agree), pants from before Otabek’s growth spurt (so comically short on Yuri’s newly lengthened legs that they could pass for capris but so tight and form-fitting on Yuri’s ass that Beka can barely fucking breathe). Yuri would build a nest out of Beka’s clothes and sleep in it if he didn’t have the real thing to cuddle into every night; he does, sometimes, when they’re separated by competitions or obligations or training. He never apologizes for strewing the bed with half the contents of their wardrobes. Beka’s usually kissing him too hard to care.

Yuri ends up taller and thinner than Otabek, so Otabek usually doesn’t borrow things from Yuri. But he finds out that the clothes thing goes both ways when he’s picking up their bedroom and finds himself holding one of Yura’s leopard-print tops that’s always loose on him, sliding off his collarbones, exposing a pale shoulder. He rubs the silky fabric and considers. Something cotton or polyester would probably be better, have a little more give in its fabric. Or he could try one of the big, fluffy hoodies that Yuri is addicted to, curling up in them on rainy days. But he feels the sensual caress of the material and wonders…

Yuri comes home early to find Otabek in his shirt, stretched tight across his chest, shoulder muscles flexing as he pulls it down his body, a strip of tan skin flashing between the hem and the waistband of his pants. Beka freezes. 

“Um,” he says. Yuri drops his skate gear.

“I promise I didn’t tear it,” Otabek says, holding up his hands. The hemline inches back up his abdomen. “It’s just that there was just enough room to get it on and now I can’t get my arms to go back through and-”

“Shut up,” Yuri breathes and lunges

The shirt does not manage to survive. The pants do, but only just.

Reminder: Kakashi loves you.

I don’t even need anyone to date me ever again, I just need teachers to keep saying I’m a joy to have in class

Sometimes I want to write a 20 page essay about how much I love natsume yuujinchou and all its characters and development and setting and everything. I love it so so much


omg can I please ask for a scenario of law and his female s/o having their first real huge fight? like he may say something hurtful and she’s just like… no longer smiling and usually really silent. no longer sleeping by his side. small stuff changes and it makes a huge difference. could it please have a fluffy ending? thank you very much!

A/N: So, turns out I wrote a hella lot and this is with 3k words my longest scenario… I hope you enjoy this, thank you for requesting!! (fluffy law anon this is for you too! Enjoy my dear!) 🌺


Law & his s/o fight + fluffy ending

It wasn’t the first time you felt uncomfortable on the submarine, but it definitely was the first time you had felt lonely. Negative thoughts kept scratching against the back of your mind, making you feel worse by the second. You couldn’t even go and tell someone about your worries, because the reason of your worries, the person who had broken your very heart was the captain of the submarine. But, of course, he was even worse; he was your boyfriend. Or at least he used to be, you’re weren’t so sure anymore.

You stare at the bowl of soup in front of you, barely registering what was going on around you. It was like a blur, figures kept walking, voices kept echoing but your thoughts? They stayed the same.

Again and again his words were ringing through your head, making fresh tears burn in your vision. You really couldn’t believe it, all this time you thought he was the one who wanted you to be a part of the crew, but after your fight? You sigh.

You remind yourself of a while ago; you sitting on a bench back at home, far far away from the sea when Law had asked you.

“Are you crazy?”, you had said, laughing without any humour in it. “I can’t join you, don’t be ridiculous.” You stood up, ready to leave him and this conversation, go back to home, when a hand on yours stopped you.

“What’s holding you back?”, he had asked. “Tell me. I promise you, I will give you a better reason. ”

“It’s me.” You turned around and stared at the man with dark hair in front of you. His eyes had something in them, something that lulled you deeper into him, no matter how hard you tried not to. “I am not made for the life as a pirate, Law. I will only be a burden for your crew, honestly- it’s a stupid idea.”

“A burden? You?”, he frowned, as if he was the one to be insulted. “You’re already a part of us, Y/N. I saw the way you acted with the others, they already love you. You can’t deny it.”

You gulped. “And you? What about you?”

He let go of your hand. “My feelings for you are…”, he had stared at the ground, but you still caught a glimpse of his eyes, how they seemed to be getting darker. But you might have only imagined that. “I will tell you another time.”

So you had joined his crew, without any experience in fighting, any knowledge of the sea- just a heart throbbing at the sight of your captain. It was careless of you, it was even careless of Law to do something as dumb as that, but he still believed in you. He thought you would be able to handle it, he was sure you could handle the life as a pirate.

You really tried your best the first few weeks, but, well, it was harder than expected. You really had no talent in the kitchen, cutting your fingers way more than the vegetables in front of you. You also had no talent at navigation. You tried it once and Bepo was very willing to help you, but you really just couldn’t. You had no idea what to do and every time the bear tried to teach you, it would become a mess in your head and everything seemed to break.

Night after Night your feet would drag you towards Law’s room, where he listened patiently to your complaints about yourself. Every night he would tell you the same.“Don’t worry too much.” or “You’ll find something, I’m sure.” or, your favorite: “Some things take time, Y/N. I still believe in you.” You would think it would get boring and unbelievable after some time, but it wasn’t like that. Law knew how to make you feel better, he knew how to make you smile again. He wanted to be with you as much as you wanted to be with him. Or at least, he used to.

The sound of your chair scratching against the floor cut through the small dining room. A few heads turned towards you, but nothing else happened. You figured, staring at your food would not make you any more hungry and just sitting would not get you anything. It would only take a seat for someone else, the last thing you wanted.

You walk out the room, when you see Penguin stop in front of you, a concerned look on his face. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You tried to smile, you really did, but you knew it looked fake. “I’m perfect, no need to worry.” You tried to sound as happy as possible, but you sounded horrible. Hoarse voice, barely loud enough to listen to and just all in all, devastated.

“Are you sure?” You nodded and walked around him, not wanting to stay in this situation any longer. I might have been rude, but you really had no mind for that. You could hear him mumble something behind you, something along the lines of: “Well, alright then. ”

As soon as you left the others, your gaze shifted towards the clock a few metres away from you.

The ticking made you feel nauseous. It was mocking you, you were sure of it. The ticking, the damn ticking, the same sounds you had heard in Law’s room a week ago.

It was before everything went downhill, it was before you found out the truth about how he really felt.

You walk towards your room, and open the familiar door, that lead you to an unfamiliar room. After the fight of you both, you had decided to stay in your own room. The nights, where you shared his bed, shared your secrets and shared your heart were over.

You huffed. He didn’t even check on you after you had left his room, not even a day after, not even two days, hell, not even a week after!

You didn’t see him once this week and even though it hurt, you knew it would hurt more if you saw him.

The mirror caught your reflection as you walked towards your bed. You glanced at it but regretted it as soon as your eyes landed on it. Dark circles were seated under your eyes, which were red and puffy- a sight, that made you laugh humorless. With those dark circles you almost looked like him.

You let yourself fall down on your bed, staring at the ceiling in silence. Minutes pass and soon, your mind wandered back to a week ago.

“So you broke it?”, he had asked you, after you had told him about your disappointing day yet again. It was embarrassing for you to tell him, but now that he asked you another time, it was even worse.

“Well… kind of.”, you mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

You were seated on a chair a feet away from him, fiddling with your fingers nervously. His gaze was on some papers, but you still felt like a child getting scolded by their parents.

“What do you mean with ‘kind of’? Is it broken, yes or no?”, he had asked with an annoyed undertone, making you look up to him. That was unfamiliar.

Normally, he would grin at it, maybe tease you a bit, but he never reacted to you like this. You could feel yourself become hurt, but mostly, you felt angry. You did not WANT the thing to break.

“It’s not working anymore, so yeah, it is broken. ”, you frowned. The both of you were talking about some medicine thing Law had in his room. Earlier you had decided to help one of your crewmates tidy up a bit of Law’s utensils, but of course, you broke one as soon as you touched it.

“Nice job, Y/N. You could have been at least a bit careful. ”, he closed his eyes and shook his head, obviously irritated by your actions. “You don’t even know how important that was.”

You stared at him for a few seconds, speechless. Was he being really serious right now?

“Do you think I wanted that to happen? It was an accident, Law.” You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m sorry, but you have a hundred of those things.”

“No, I don’t, Y/N.”, he said angrily. He glanced at you once and let out a long breath.

You grabbed the chair tightly, “What the hell is your problem, Law?”

He turned around in his chair, mustering you for a second and sighed. Nothing else happened, but you felt like that was already enough.

“So I’m your problem? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“I never said that, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath, you had to calm down. It was kind of your fault after all, right? You broke the thing. Not him.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.”, so you relaxed again and tried your best to keep calm, but it got even worse.

“What are you going to try now? You tried everything already: kitchen, navigation… you even tried to help me. ”, he whispered and scribbled something into one of his books.

“Don’t know, I might ask one of the crew to help me learn fighting. Might be a smart decision…”, you played with your own fingers again.

He huffed. “As if.”

“Excuse me?”

“As if that will work.”, he stared at you for a quick second. “You can’t fight. It will take ages.” Then, he whispered something to himself, something he probably didn’t want you to hear, but you still managed to get every word, loud and clear:

“You can’t do anything right, anyways.”

You were furious, insulted and hurt. “What the hell, Law!”

You stood up from your chair, not able to hold it back any longer.

“You were the one who wanted me to be a part of your crew! You were the one, who said all this stuff about me fitting into the crew! It was you, Law, do you remember?”, you yelled. You didn’t knew what had come to him, you didn’t knew what was going on and especially, you didn’t knew how to handle the situation. “Law, I don’t know what your problem really is, but either say it now or stop acting like a jerk!”

He turned around in his chair, glaring at you. “Just stop it, Y/N.”

“No, I won’t stop. Tell me, why did you want me to be a part of your crew, if I’m so useless?”

Tears were forming in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them show. It would make everything worse, you were sure.

“I wanted you to be a part of the crew, because that’s where I thought you belongedd. And I still do, it’s just a bit-.”

“A bit what?”, you yelled again, voice louder than before. You were sure the whole crew could heard the two of you, but you couldn’t care less. “Tell me.”

“Nevermind, Y/N.”

“Are you serious? Nevermind, Y/N?” You sighed and pushed a hand though your hair, still staring at your boyfriend with wet eyes. “Do you regret asking me to join your crew?” This time, your voice was almost silent.

He huffed. “Just stop it now.”

“Answer me.”

He stared at you for a long second, then he turned around and took the book back in his hand.

“So, you do?”

Fresh tears flow down your cheeks at the memory. You still remember how you had felt in that moment. You never knew that sentence, one simple sentence could break your heart into many, many pieces.

You turn around in your bed and stare at the blank wall. Your normally comfortable bed felt like a bed made of ice cold bricks now, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care at all. Soon, everything went quiet. You figured, it must have been late, but you still didn’t move an inch, you don’t think you could, even if you wanted.

You felt stupid. Look at you now, laying somewhere crying, god knows where, under the the sea, without anyone to talk to. You weren’t welcome anymore, you felt it.

Again and again his answer echoed through your mind.

“With this drama right now, you won’t like my answer.”

You grab your blanket and hide underneath it, wishing to be invisible for the rest of your life.

Where would you go? What would you do? And something you had asked yourself everyday after the fight: Will you sneak out as soon as you go on land? Will you go back home?
You dry your tears with your blanket, still hiding underneath it.

Suddenly, a knock on your door cuts through the room, startling you. For a second, you get scared, but then you just decided to act like you are asleep. You didn’t want to talk to  anyone, no matter who it was.

Seconds pass, the knocking came another time, but again, you stayed quiet.

Then, you hear the door open slowly and quiet footsteps echo through your room.You freeze, you know who this was. It was just the feeling, it was the feeling of him and you were right, it really was your Captain.

“Y/N?”, he asks quietly. Law stood in the middle of your room and stared at your hiding figure underneath the blanket. “Are you awake?”

Silence.

You don’t even care how you must look like. You would leave him and the crew anyways, so why bother? You tried your best to look like you were asleep, you even tried to breath evenly.

Law walks closer to your figure and for a second, you think he will put the blanket down and expose your tears covered face, but he didn’t. He simply sat down at the end of your bed, careful not to touch you.

“Y/N, listen, ”

You grimace. You were asleep, why didn’t he just leave? You were not interested in talking to him, you sure as hell were not interested in getting your heart broken another time.

“I’m sorry, that I only come now. I should have come earlier, I should have stopped you as soon as you walked out, but I didn’t. I regret my behavior Y/N. I know, nothing can excuse this, but I want you to know; I am sorry.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, after everything he had said last week… he still had the guts to lie at you?

“Everything I said was not true, you can do a lot of things, Y/N, believe me. I don’t know why I said that.”

Unbelievable. You did not believe a word. He probably wasn’t even affected by the fight anyways. He probably still looks the same as always, still hands-. You cursed in your head. You need to stop, you need to get a grip on yourself.

“I take my answer back, I do not regret asking you to join the crew. It was one of the best decisions for all of us. You bring happiness to all of our crew, you make us keep going, you make me keep going, when I don’t want to.”

His voice was weak, as if he had trouble getting them out and honestly, you could feel your heart ache. Was he telling the truth? You didn’t know anymore. You stay hidden underneath the blanket and don’t make a sound.

“Y/N, please forgive me.”

You bite your lip, heart aching even more. He sounded heartbroken, or at least as heartbroken, as Law could get. You knew it was a huge step for him to say those things, he never had his way with words and was the more silent one of you two. Confused, you were confused.

You could hear him sigh. “I know you’re not asleep.”

You froze again. Suddenly, everything felt tense. Slowly, you pulled the blanket down and sat up, staring into the face of the man, that had broken your heart seven days ago. He had, as expected, dark circles and to your very surprise, a faint color of red was swimming in his eyes, something no one else really could notice, but not you. You had stared too many nights into these very eyes, you knew them like the back of your hand.

“You hurt me.”, was the first thing you said, voice trembling. “You really did, Law.”

He nodded and glanced at the blanket. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Ever so slowly, he took your hand into his, squeezing them lightly. His hands were ice cold while yours were warm, it was the complete difference, but for some reason it fit perfectly. This was how it was supposed to be.

“Did you really mean what you just said? With me… making you guys happy?”, you knew you sounded pathetic, needing to hear him say those things another time. But you couldn’t help it, you had to, you just had to.

“I promise you, it’s the truth. You don’t even know how much you affect us, you might not be very good in certain things, like the kitchen… or cleaning…. or-”

“Okay, I got it.”

“I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is that you don’t need to be good at them, because you being with us is already enough. Being with me, putting up with me is more than enough.” He was out of character, out of the character of Trafalgar Law the pirate but he was your Law, he was your very Law, the moody, silent, nerdy and negative Law. The man you had fallen in love with. “And I…”

He had visible troubles saying the next thing, suddenly scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I… loveyou.”, he mumbled fast.

You smile and squeeze his hand in delight. “And I love you, Law. I’m sorry for fucking up all the time.”

He shakes his head and grabs your head, pushing you towards him in a heartbeat. You find yourself in his chest, inhaling his scent and you can feel your heart gluing back together. He kissed the top of your head not once, not twice, three times. The both of you stay in this position for a while, just enjoying the missed company, when you hear voices muffled through the wall.

“Is everything okay now?” - “I don’t know, they’re not talking anymore!” - “Shhh, be quiet!” - “I don’t want them to fight anymore!!” - “Bepo, stop crying!” - “Thwey cwan’t bweak up!” - “Shhh! Stop it or else- oh, oh my god, where is this blue light coming from?! Bepo this is your fault!!” And then the wailing intensifies.

Survivor (Jason Todd x Reader) | Part One?

Not a Request.
Warnings: A lot of swearing. Long text.
A/N: I have no idea what this is. I just wrote it. If it isn’t any good I won’t continue it, but I figured I’d see if this is decent and go from there, lol.

“Report,” came Batman’s gruff voice over the comms.

“East side’s clear!” Nightwing responds, his voice overly cheerful for having been at this shit for hours.

“South is still empty,” Red Robin says, his tone sounds just about as bored as Jason feels.

There’s a pause before Bruce lets out a slightly irritated: “Red Hood.”

“What do you think, B?” Jason responds, annoyed. He kicks a stray tin can as he walks another round through his area. “West is still filled to the brim with broken aspirations and the smell of dead dreams. We’re wasting our time on some shit that a criminal said in hopes to receive a get out of jail free card, because ‘it’s worth checking out, Jason. If what he says is true it could endanger all of Gotham, Jason.’”

“Father does not sound like that, Todd!”

Before Damian can continue his rant, Jason interrupts him. “Wait! I think I see something!”

“What is it?” Dick asks.

“Oh my god, you guys. Is this what I think it is?”

“What?” Tim questions, becoming slightly interested.

“Holy shit it is! Yeah, that is definitely a box full of fucking nothing. Man, there’s our gift, you guys, because we’re earning nothing from this!” The hooded man gets a ding from his communicator, and when he investigates what it meant, he finds that it was from Tim disconnecting. He laughs, feeling a small sense of joy through this whole thing.

“Dammit, Jason, this isn’t funny!” The oldest Robin says. “Tim cut off all his communications- what if he gets in trouble?”

“This whole thing is a bust! What trouble is he going to find?” Jason then gasps mockingly. “Uh-oh! Red Robin has been seen fighting a troublesome force! A stray cat and her kittens!”

“Can’t you tone down your sarcasm for just one night?”

“If you asshats didn’t waste my time, maybe I’d consider it.”

“Enough,” Bruce interjects. “We’ve still got an hour, so just continue surveying your positions!”

Things fall silent as the group of vigilantes continue to walk and watch their perimeters. Earlier, when they were taking out some thugs, one of them claimed that they knew of a “great danger” that was going to take place. Apparently, someone was kidnapping civilians and hiding them away in this huge warehouse. The guy said he wasn’t sure what was going to happen, only that it was really bad.

The moron was clearly making it all up, and how Bruce didn’t see it was beyond Jason. It was obvious with how he had to keep ‘remembering’ the details. Regardless of the fact, Bruce was making them all survey the place. They had already thoroughly searched the interior of the warehouse, and are now circling the outside, because it was still in the time-frame that the idiot criminal said the “bad thing” was going to take place.

When it hit 40 minutes, Jason was going to say “fuck it” and leave, but a small light catches his eye. It wasn’t in the warehouse though, it was in the building neighboring it. He cautiously begins to approach it while he raises a hand to his helmet to turn his mic back on.

He peers into the crack that the glow is emitting from and speaks lowly, “Guys, I think I found something.”

“Jason, I swear, if you mention any more empty objects or even just the freaking air one more time-” Nightwing says, his patience having obviously been lost by his brother’s previous antics.

“First of all, watch your fucking language, Dickhead,” He hears a sharp inhale through his earpiece. “Secondly, I’m serious. There’s this little light thing in this crack in the wall.”

“Everyone head to Red Hood’s coordinates,” The Bat orders. “Jason, do not engage until we’re there.”

The gun wielder groans, folds his arms, and begins pacing. “You’re killing me here, old man. I’ve been so bored and now I found something interesting and you’re not even letting me investigate! I am actually dying of boredom. For the second time, I am going to be dead.”

“If only boredom could complete such a task,” Robin mutters.

“I can still hear you even if you lower your voice, brat.”

“Good.”

Before another quip can make it to Red Hood’s tongue, the light becomes a bright red and begins to flash. The words: “It’s a bomb!” slip out of his mouth before he can fully process what’s happening, and his feet are carrying him as far away as possible. He had just taken out his grappling hook when the building becomes swallowed in white, and the blast hurls him into the wall of the warehouse.

Jason isn’t entirely sure what was happening at that point. His vision goes black a few times, and even when he is able to keep himself out of unconsciousness, everything’s spinning and his ears are ringing. He pushes himself up with the help of the wall behind him, and winces at the sound of his helmet glitching and sparking.

He braces himself against the wall with his left arm, and then searches himself for any injuries. His entire right side is scraped up from impact, though it doesn’t look like there will be any serious bleeding. He takes off his helmet the second he feels a burning sensation on the back of his ear, and finds that it was all sorts of fucked. The side of it was cracked open like an egg, and how he didn’t notice this first was beyond him. He found himself slightly confused when he saw red dripping from it, because he wasn’t so close to the explosion that it would liquify his piece of armor, and then he realizes the ear that still hasn’t stopped ringing was dribbling as well.

When he raises a hand to feel how badly it’s bleeding, he finds his communicator shoved in there instead, and promptly rips it out with a small gasp of pain. “Fuck!” He looks back to the building- well rubble now- and begins throwing more profanities to the air when he sees bodies thrown about around it.

He ignores the pain that’s making itself known throughout his body, and hurries over to scan the area- look for any survivors. He isn’t sure how long it’s been but it feels like forever and he’s only found corpses and dammit where the fuck are the bat and the birds?

Jason was just planning the insults he was going to shout at them when he saw movement underneath a large piece of rubble. He places his hands on the edge of it and pulls it until it flops over, and finds another body lying on their stomach.

He gently begins to turn the individual over onto their side, which causes the person to go into a hacking fit. He gently pats the back of the seemingly only survivor before rubbing soothing circles in place of the pats. Their eyes flutter open, and the words Jason was going to say get caught in his throat as another bought of ringing go through his ears.

It isn’t until he hears his alias being called out through the sound that he manages to ask: “What’s your name?”

Between the wheezes and coughs, he gets a small response: “Y/N.”

8

Re:Creators, episode 2:

“What’s this?”
“Stop! …This is an old drawing.”
“Then show me a new one.”
“That’s…”