and i've told him that before

2

Andrew flicked him a cool look. “I told her what would happen if she raised her hand again. She had no right to act so surprised.

anonymous asked:

Who is Montparnasse? I guess give a quick bio? I've only seen the 2012 movie so I don't know much about him

OH MY GOODNESS OKAY!

In the Brick, Montparnasse is a member of Patron-Minette, a criminal gang which operates in Paris. He was a street urchin not unlike Gavroche, before a girl told him he was really handsome and since that day, Montparnasse resorted to crime in order to get himself pretty clothes (I swear I’m not making this up). Since he’s piss-poor and lazy as fuck, crime seemed like the best gig in order to get what he wants.

Okay, so random Montparnasse traits:

  • He’s vain. As fuck.
  • Lazy
  • Loyal
  • Fucking ExtraTM . Like, the guys goes everywhere with a red rose because?? He thinks he’s cool??
  • He’s a fucking dork oh my god he thinks he’s so cool but the guy got his ass kicked by a sixty yo dude like son, check yoself because u rek yourself
  • Edgelord
  • He likes Gavroche a lot.
  • He’s around 18/20 in the Brick
  • His character is written as very ambiguous. Very grey, if you will. Definitely not GOOD but definitely not a villain either. Hence the quote: “ He was kind, effeminate, graceful, robust, sluggish, ferocious” See the antithesis? (The original French text describes Montparnasse as “gentil” aka “kind” or “nice” while the English text translated it as “genteel” which doesn’t convey the same connotations and I’m HELLA SALTY ABOUT IT.)
  • Part of me is convinced that Montparnasse was written as a comic relief

Random Montparnasse facts:

  • Babet, one of his fellow associates, calls him “pretty boy” once
  • Has a swordcane
  • Gets robbed by Gavroche once
  • Has a sort of brotherly relationship with Gavroche, with Gav’ teasing him to no end
  • Refuses to speak argot (slang) because he wants to appear PROPER and DIGNIFIED (see the Edgelord entry)
  • Robber and assassin by night, dandy by day
  • Javert calls him a “Devilish Dandy” :’)

Anyway, I love my trash son

aelin  asked:

23 ANDREIL PLS AND THANK U <333

23. “Let’s make a pillow fort. It’ll be great.”

  • Neil didn’t have much of a childhood 
  • it usually didn’t bother him that much (he didn’t have time to waste feeling sorry about things he couldn’t change) 
  • But every once in a while something would happen that would absolutely blow his mind and he’d get that little kid giddiness 
  • When Neil walks into Matt’s room to find pillows and blankets all over the floor he immediately thought someone trashed Matt’s room
  • He Is Pissed™
  • who tf would do this to matt
  • But then Dan’s head appears from the mess and he’s chill 
  • “Hey, Neil! Check it out!” 
  • Neil walks over to the opening and when he bends down he sees Allison, Renee, and Matt all crowded under the tent of blankets, with an array of sugary snacks to go around
  •  Poor small child Neil was so confused yet so intrigued
  • “It’s a pillow fort!” 
  • And yes, of course it is. 
  • Neil is Amazed. 
  • They all make room for Neil to squeeze inside, and as he’s sitting there, looking around the only think on his mind is I have to build one

Keep reading

  • Ruby: Dad, I'm calling you to tell you Uncle Qrow died.
  • Taiyang: Are you sure? He's not just comatose from too much alcohol? Or sleeping?
  • Ruby: Dad! I watched him die! Like he was poisoned and coughing up purple liquid.
  • Taiyang: Yeah, I've seen this before. Reach into his back pocket and grab his flask, then tip out the whisky.
  • Ruby: Dad this is not the time for jokes! Uncle Qrow is dead!
  • Taiyang: Just do it.
  • Ruby: Fine! We were going to pour one out for him at the next village anyway. *proceeds to do as told*
  • Qrow: What the fuckity fuck fuck do you think you are doing missy?!
2ps as shit I've done at school
  • 2p!America (Allen Jones): told the French teacher to fuck off because she's been rude before storming out of the class (he dropped the class and joined another class which he wasn't there for the beginning of the year to learn about safety so he got 100s for doing no work because the teacher did everything for him)
  • 2p!Canada (James Williams): said the most sarcastic and low-key rude comments loud af but never got in trouble
  • 2p!France (François Bonnefoy): joked about suicide and dying so much the school did a suicide check on him
  • 2p!England (Oliver Kirkland): got out of school early for no other reason than to go home and bake
  • 2p!China (Zao Wang): asked his best friend to bring him weed (they ended up hanging out and smoking instead)
  • 2p!Russia (Viktor Braginsky): got a 105/100 on an assignment
  • 2p!Italy Veneziano (Luciano Vargas): got caught on a porn site while looking for memes
  • 2p!Italy Romano (Flavio Vargas): filed his nails during class without getting caught. Finger and toenails.
  • 2p!Germany (Lutz Beilschmidt): ran down the world language hall screaming "choke me daddy" in various languages
  • 2p!Prussia (Gilen Beilschmidt): always watched over the school hamsters whenever there was a break
  • 2p!Japan (Kuro Honda): used his phone for the whole class and got every question right
  • 2p!Austria (Roland Edelstein): brought in a book about witchcraft and showed it to his extremely Christian teacher

oceanic-wanderlust  asked:

Had this pervy (greasy neckbeard I've helped before) customer lean on my counter and ask "where do you go to eat when you want to be pampered? You're a girl that wants to be pampered a lot." So I told him "when I want good food I make it myself because I don't need anybody assuming anything about me, especially my tastes, right?" Which was probably a little aggressive but it got the point across and he slunk away. Fuck that. What a lame-ass and insulting pickup line. I'm still seething.

That was actually not as aggressive as he deserved but way more smooth than what I’d say. Certainly more PG. Lol -abby

Bar Ettiquette

Not many of my followers know, but I’m a bartender and after this weekend (and for the last 5 years) I thought I’d make a quick a simple list of bar manners to mind.

  • If you use a lime after a shot do not stick your gross ass chewed up lime on the bar. Put it back into the shot glass, on a napkin or find a trash can for the love of god. 
  • If you don’t want a straw in your drink, either say so when you order or put in on a napkin or throw it away. Again, do not stick it in your mouth, suck on it and leave your spit straw on the counter. Have you no manners?
  • Don’t yell. Use your manners.
  • I know it looks like I will never look into your beautiful, drink starved eyes, but I can see you even if I’m not looking at you. Trust me
  • If I am not looking at you, I’m not taking your order. If I look at your eyes, that’s a sign that I’m ready to take your order. Which I am not, so don’t wave your hand in front of my face to make me look at you. I might forget what I’m doing an take even longer. You’re only hurting yourself.
  • If you are ordering multiple drinks, order them all at once. Not one at a time. You get your drinks faster and everyone around you can get served faster as well. It’s a win-win.
  • I don’t care what you drink, honestly. Like, drink a long island. Or a lemon drop. It makes my gut hurt because sugar. But I Don’t Care. And neither should you, so don’t make shitty comments the person next to you when they order. 
  • Unless you’re putting red bull in grey goose. Save yourself some cash and just get well vodka. 
  • I take it back, there was one time someone ordered a pint glass of half & half and a shot of malibu rum in it and I thought i was going to die.
  • If I ask you if you want a back/chaser for your shot I’m not questioning your masculinity or giving you a test. I just want to know. It’s easier to do it all at once.
  • I don’t know that one special drink at another bar, but tell me what you like about it and I’ll try to find you an alternative. 
  • Please. Please don’t ask me to just pour you whatever. Especially when it’s busy. I have to hold back the urge to pour you a shot of grape pucker and call it a day.
  • If you ask me for a “girly” or “pussy” drink I will pour you fernet branca because I am both girly, in possession of a vagina and that’s all I drink. You’ll regret it.
  • If you order something gay I will pour you whiskey because that’s what all my gay male friends drink. They also drink fernet as well. It’s a toss up there. 
  • In fact. I serve women, gay men/women and straight dudes all about the same when it comes to whiskey. It’s strange how gender and sexuality have nothing to do with the types of alcohol you drink.
  • The correct terminology you are looking for is “fruity” or “mixed” 
  • Anyway. Someone once asked for both. After I responded with fernet to his “pussy” shot request, he ordered a “gay” shot.
  • So I told him I’d make him a gay shot called a dick in his mouth.
  • I did. 
  • He told me it was “a little stiff”
  • I told him if there’s a dick in his mouth, you better hope it’s stiff.

anonymous asked:

I hate to ask, but school is kicking my butt and I'm really stressed out, do you have any headcanons with the batfamily being "smart"? Like, doing detective things or something? Please only respond if you want to/feel like it. I don't want to be a bother. Thank you.

Hmmm I’m not 100% sure what you’re asking for, but I’ll give it a shot?

  • So Damian didn’t know who his father was until pretty late in the game, BUT I think we can assume that he did hear Ra’s and Talia talk about his dad a few times when he was little. Thing is, they don’t generally use Bruce’s name. They call him “The Detective.”
  • That being the case, I always figured lil Damian ran around thinking “I too will be a detective” and playing at investigation, which would probably boil down to sneaking around in order to overhear as much as possible. For the record, I don’t think he ever dropped that habit.
  • I also think that lil Damian was obsessed with Sherlock Holmes, since Holmes is probably the most famous literary detective around. I happen to know that when Tim was fourteen, he was a member of the Sherlock Holmes Society (Detective Comics #618), so I figure they’ve got that bit in common. We are, however, talking about Tim and Damian, so when I say “something in common,” what I mean is “something to compete over.”
  • On top of the expected squabbling about the merits of different media adaptations, odds are they have contests where they both try to observe somebody and deduce as much information as possible. It’s not the kind of thing Bruce would discourage. They are supposed to be cultivating those skills, plus Bruce loves Holmes too. Another thing Bruce enjoys is showing up his children, so it works out well for him. He’s very, very good at that game.
  • So is Dick. Cass is a specific kind of good at it, because of the body language thing. They don’t make their guesses to their subject’s face, so Babs (also a talented player) fact-checks electronically as much as possible. It’s a decent way to pass time on slow patrols. They call it a training game.

fatedheroine  asked:

Aww, yes I've been waiting for this! How would 2D react to finding out that his s/o has an amazing singing voice and they never told him?

- He finds out when he hears you quietly singing one of their songs while (attempting) to clean up their cluttered dining room. He thinks it sounds incredible and asks you to sing a bit louder for him.
- He’s upset that you’ve never told him before. He adores how you sound and wants to hear more.
- He’s always asking you to sing for him. He begs for it like a puppy and you can never say no to him. 
- He wants to sing with you a lot!!! He thinks his and your voice combined sounds beautiful. He also thinks it’s a cute little couple thing for the two of you to do together.
- Murdoc eventually hears you two singing together and ultimately decides to make you a backup singer for the band (if you’re okay with it.)
- 2D invites you to sing on stage with him!!! He has such a good time when he’s with you and it makes the whole experience of preforming live much better than it already was.

anonymous asked:

We've been out of kids menus to draw on for the last few days at work and so I've been taking my time before I seat people to tell them that and show them the kids menu section with the prices in the actual menu and say I don't have any menus for them to doodle on many people are okay with it but this lady proceeded to tell me that I can give her blank paper and I told her again I didn't have any for him to doodle and she cut me off saying he doesn't doodle, he draws circles. 🙃

Ponyboy x Reader

Anonymous asked: “I’m sorry I let you fall for me” Could you do this prompt with ponyboy?

“I’m sorry I let you fall for me.”

-

He was staring at you, tortured.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, entangling your fingers with his.

Ponyboy set his teeth on edge, turning away first. “There’s a rumble tonight. I don’t know if you heard.”

His words caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Distantly, you felt the Greaser tighten his grip on your hand, his thumb running over your skin in a shaky way. He was scared, that was obvious. You were scared. It was so stupid, both of you knew this.

You were a Soc and he was a Greaser. You’d face each other tonight in battle.

Both of you were sworn enemies. Water and oil. Blessings and curses. Deep and shallow-

“I won’t show.” Ponyboy’s suggestion tore you from your thoughts.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “They’ll find out. We both need to go.” You sighed. “We just have to try not to meet in the fray.”

Ponyboy looked unsure, but managed a smile. It perished before it reached his eyes, though.

“I love you,” he breathed.

You didn’t like that. This was a big deal, sure, but nobody was going to die. What the two of you had wasn’t going to fade. Your divisions weren’t going to take that away from you guys.

“I love you too, Ponyboy,” you murmured.

You lifted his hand up to your face and kissed the top of it, smiling back at him. “This isn’t going to change anything, you hear? We’re still on our date for Thursday,” you chuckled.

It took a few moments, but ultimately the boy joined you in laughter. “Good. I’ve been saving up some cash. You’re in for a treat, Y/N,” he said contently.

The most obvious issue seemed to wear away at that second, and Ponyboy wrapped his other arm around your shoulder. You exhaled softly as he pulled you close against his chest, running his fingers through your hair and humming easily. You felt his heart beat beneath the heel of your hand as his fingers fell away from yours.

It was dusk. Streams of orange bolted across the sky and melted deep into the horizon. Some stars flickered in and out of sight. You liked the way the scenery reflected off of Ponyboy’s eyes.

The rest of the evening was spent in comfortable silence, with your hands snagging in the boy’s shirt and his fingers combing through your hair. It was too late to relent your feelings for Ponyboy, you knew this. You loved him from the bottom of your heart. He felt the same way towards you. That wouldn’t cease. Well, you hoped it wouldn’t. It was truly your worst fear.

“Ponyboy!” a familiar voice echoed over the terrain.

Sodapop.

“Time to come home, bud! Gotta get ready!”

Ponyboy stiffened against you. It was evident that his brother was talking about the upcoming rumble. He pressed his lips to your forehead before gazing down at you.

“I have to go, but, I mean, I’ll see you later,” he stammered.

“Okay. Stay safe.” You kissed his cheek as he stood up. “See you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”

-

The night was still. There was no wind. No more stars either, too many clouds. And no Greasers. Yet.

You were sitting on top of the hood of your friend’s car. Most of the Socs were wrestling with each other already, but careful enough not to push each other to the ground. Your outfits were clean, something the Greasers never contributed in rumbles. Playful cursing filled the air and twigs snapped beneath people’s feet. Nobody was scared. Nobody allocated your fears.

“They’re here!” someone cried out.

So they were, you thought. Familiar faces came into your line of sight and you hurried to join your rank.

“Time to demolish the town’s inferior kids,” someone beside you growled. You were too busy looking for Ponyboy to pay them any real mind, though.

You still didn’t know all of the Greasers, but you recognized the three Curtis brothers and some more of their friends. Though a handful of them still looked unfamiliar.

Ponyboy took your breath away when you finally spotted him. It seemed you did the same for him when he saw you. The world between you two froze, and it was simply you and Ponyboy. No other labels were needed.

For a fraction of time, you weren’t a Soc and he wasn’t a Greaser. You were equals. You loved each other, and that was enough.

But the truth caught up to you and just like that, your hopes were eradicated. You were back, and Ponyboy dipped his head, averting your gaze. You did the same.

At this point the two groups were in a line, bracing each other for war. People’s teeth bared and hands formed fists. Anticipation was wearing.

“You cannot be your own saviors,” a Greaser taunted suddenly. It was Ponyboy’s eldest brother. He stepped out from his band and glared at the people you had grown up with.

“You cannot protect yourselves from us,” another Greaser jeered.

You knew the second Greaser. You had never talked to him, but you knew of him. Everyone did. It was Dallas Winston. Patches of purple already stained his knuckles. He was hungry for a fight. He was desperate.

“We wouldn’t dream of protecting ourselves against delinquents,” one of your Socs sneered.

Dallas stepped to the side of Ponyboy’s older brother, Darry, and puffed his chest. He was goading the Socs. You could almost see the steam pouring out of his ears.

“You deserve all of the hurt you’re about to get,” he seethed.

Your fellow Soc gritted his teeth. You saw the muscles straining in his neck, how his jaw tightened, how his eyes gleamed dangerously.

“Good thing your parents’ll be able to pay for your hospital bills,” Dallas stated.

The Soc couldn’t take it any longer. He pounced without say, but Dallas was ready.

The rumble was on.

A Greaser took you by surprise, slugging your shoulder and causing your dominant arm to go numb. His gray eyes flickered, and his grin widened. You did your best to protect yourself, jabbing at his stomach and dodging behind him, kicking the back of his knees. He was strong, though, too tall and too stocky for you to stand a real chance. A snicker escaped him as he landed another punch to your jaw, and you realized who this Greaser was.

Ponyboy had told you stories about the guy who could get out of any business with the fuzz. How he was still a junior at eighteen and a half. How he could brighten up anyone’s day with a joke. As he decorated you with dark colors, you wished you had gotten to know that side of him.

“Two-Bit!” you heard someone shriek. “You’re pummeling a body! Take a real challenge over here.”

That was Ponyboy talking, you perceived leisurely. Two-Bit gave you one last shove, and you stumbled to the ground, receding to your knees. But the male was gone when you peered back up.

By now your body was throbbing in multiple places. The side of your head hurt. You saw yourself curl your fingers, but didn’t feel it. There was a burning sensation in your shoulder.

“Y/N,” a hushed voice said.

Ponyboy was suddenly right beside you. You gazed at him and did your best to hide your smile. He didn’t do the same, but instead put his hand behind your head and repositioned you onto your back, grabbing the collar of your shirt to keep you from falling. At this angle, it looked like he was looming over you, spewing threats. But his eyes were soft and his lip was already bleeding.

“Stay low,” he instructed. “I don’t know how long this will last. This has been building up for months. Both sides are fired up,” he admitted.

“It’s alright,” you told him. “I’m fine. You should go, before someone realizes what you’re doing.”

Ponyboy grimaced, but laid your head on the grass gently.

“I’m sorry I let you fall for me,” he whispered.

You weren’t hurt bad, but your mind was slow, and you told him that he hadn’t let you fall. That he set you down gingerly.

Ponyboy frowned and opened his mouth to speak, although another voice rang out. A Greaser compelled him back to the fight, but he kissed the top of your hand as you had done to him only hours before. Then he bolted away.

Conflict of Interest

Alright, folks, it’s been awhile and I’m rusty, so forgive me this self-indulgent fic drawing on the unnecessary research I’ve done recently for prosecutorial conflicts of interest.

E/R, lawyer AU, Modern AU, established relationship (of sorts).

“Your Honor, can we meet in chambers?”

Judge Fauchelevent sighed and just managed to avoid pinching the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Enjolras,” she said, drawing out the last syllable as an exaggerated sigh. “We’ve barely begun the arraignment. What is so important that it can’t even wait until the State brings forward charges?”

Enjolras straightened his tie, the red standing out starkly against his crisp white shirt and $2,000 suit, far nicer than the usual public defender could even consider affording. “I’d be happy to discuss it with Your Honor in chambers,” he said carefully.

Cosette rolled her eyes. “Approach the bench,” she ordered, watching as Enjolras stalked up to the bench while he conspicuously avoided glancing at the less well-dressed Assistant Defense Attorney who was taking his time ambling forward. “Mr. Enjolras,” Cosette said, a warning edge to her voice, “I’m sure whatever objection you want to raise on behalf of your client can wait until after the arraignment.”

Keep reading

sunday, 3am

“Gently,” she stressed.

Sitting on the sink-counter, she looked washed-out in the harsh fluorescent light of their bathroom, a little spatter of blood staining the shoulder of her light blue scrubs, her skin a wintery kind of pale and her freckles fading as though they’d been one of God’s afterthoughts. Her braid rested tattered and ripped down her spine, long red strands falling in front of the bruises on her cheek, and as he carded her hair back behind her ear, she flinched involuntarily, her shaky hands stilling on her lap, her breath hitching.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, the bag of ice in his hand hovering before her, his brain buzzing in the overtired way he used to feel accustomed to. If his circadian rhythms were reliable, then he and his body estimated that three in the morning, maybe half past, had come and gone. A long time ago, she’d told him that keeping lights on from the nighttime hours of ten-to-ten harmed the brain’s ability to produce melatonin, but he figured that light would be the least of their worries tonight.

Softly, she met his gaze, then looked back down at her lap.

“Sorry,” she said, wincing at the word. “I’m just…I’m still a little shaken up.”

He nodded, then gingerly brought the ice to her cheek, and though she recoiled at first, luckily she eased against his touch, let out a deep, exhausted breath.

“Is there any bleeding?” she asked, her voice muffled by the ice.

“None at all,” he said.

She swallowed, said, “The nurse there seemed like she was doing a great job of cleaning it.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you’re not concussed?” he asked as he leaned against the sink, the house around them so still and silent that it made the winter beyond them feel heavier and thicker than it already was. 

Looking up at him, she delicately pressed her lips together, said, “Had the nurse check. No headache or dizziness. I’m fine, Mulder.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding to himself. 

Though she avoided late shifts and preferred not to work on Saturdays, she’d been on a Saturday evening to Sunday morning emergency room shift, eight pm to eight pm, but a one am call let him know that a drunk patient, a punch to the face, and some police involvement meant that she would be coming home early. The last time he, in her words, went caveman left them both embarrassed and uncomfortable, but now, he wished he could’ve been there, could’ve watched over her and had her back so that some drunkard would’ve never decked her behind a modesty curtain, wouldn’t have had a chance to let her head thud against a sterile linoleum floor before punching her again. Though he wanted to think of this protectiveness as more than an ancient biological imperative, though he wished he didn’t find himself at fault for something so clearly irrelevant to his existence, he still brought Duane Barry and Phillip Padgett and all of the other men who had wronged her to mind, wondered once more if he could’ve done more. While at the Bureau, he could’ve argued that he was her partner, that it was of the utmost importance for them to watch each other’s backs, but now, he could hardly merit the wish.

And had he been there, he probably would’ve been decked too, only he would’ve cried about it instead of stoically driving home afterward like she did. Sometimes, he figured, the universe chose to punch the ones who could take it, not the ones who couldn’t.

“You’re never working a night shift again,” he said, hoping to elicit a laugh or at least a pained smile; thankfully, she reached toward him, wrapped her fingers in his open hand, kept her eyes down but let him know that she was present and receptive anyway. 

“I sure hope not,” she said, “but if they ever want me to, I’m sure that citing this incident will make them change their minds.”

Softly, he laughed, and though he figured it would hurt her to smile, the purplish and red smears of bruises on her cheeks keeping her from moving her face too much, she still quirked her lip, the movement minute but visible. 

“Did you have any Advil before you got home?” he asked.

“I had one before I left the hospital.” 

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

She sucked her lips in again, met his gaze, so he nodded in understanding. He figured neither or them would be getting much sleep tonight.

“Well,” he said, his voice turning theatrical, “I can offer some warm milk-”

“No hot liquids,” she said quickly. “Have to keep the swelling down.”

“Okay,” he said, off-put. There went his ideas for chamomile tea and maybe a warm bath in order to calm her down. “Then, cold water.”

“Thrilling.”

He squeezed her hand.

“What are you looking for, then?” he asked. “My mind goes numb after midnight.”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “A movie, something mindless. Just until we feel we could fall asleep.”

So she shed her blood-smeared scrubs and opted for pajamas and thick socks; while she migrated to the couch, held the ice against her more bluish cheek, he rifled through their bookshelf, found Sleepless in Seattle and liked the irony it provided, so he popped the tape in, the lights off in their living room, the fish tank fluorescent and bubbling in the background, the winter winds shifting the shutters on their fixer-upper farmhouse. He sat on her less-bruised side, and as she spread a shared blanket over their laps, he fast-forwarded coming attractions of many years ago, her two hands wrapping around his free one. While the movie began, he tuned Meg Ryan out and kept his eyes on her instead, tried to survey her body for telltale signs of stress. 

She’d told him long ago that she felt anxiety not in her mind but in her limbs, in her joints; while her thoughts told her to push forward, her body cringed and faded, her demise coming not from her will but from her physical breakdown, so he’d tried to be a constant for her, had kept track of her hours and made sure that, even when she seemed so determined to finish just one more stack of paperwork, she would go home for a good night’s rest instead. From those many times, he knew what to look for: raised shoulders, shaky hands, huffed breaths, glasses pushed up far more often than one would expect. However, tonight shifted that response because her breakdown had come from a patient, not from herself, so while she took shallow breaths during the movie, he traced his thumb against the back of her hand, let her lean into him with her face angled so that his shoulder and her bruises never quite made contact. As four am ticked past, he realized that he’d never watched this movie in full, but because he’d distracted himself during the first half of the film, he hadn’t a clue where the plot went.

“Scully?” he whispered, almost wincing at how his voice interrupted the special, rural silence around them. 

When she didn’t shift, he craned his neck, and though he should’ve been able to tell through her long, languid breaths against his chest, he only noticed that she’d fallen asleep when he looked down and saw her closed eyes. Reaching for the remote, he turned the television off, and with deft, gentle motions, he managed to lift her up without waking her - after all, she could sleep anywhere, from passenger’s seats of cheap rental cars to bleach-ridden motel beds to his old leather couch back before he’d been able to offer her a bed instead - and carried her upstairs though his aging joints protested with each step. 

Thankful that he’d left the bed unmade after she’d called, he managed to slip her beneath the overturned sheets on his side of the bed, tucked her in before he climbed in on the other still-made side. Out here, the nights were dark save for the endless lines of unobstructed stars in the sky, so he kept their bedroom’s blinds up, soft light falling over her bruising face, the rise and fall of her chest shifting the duvet while she slept. Her pillow smelled like that lavender shampoo she liked, and though the stuffing was too thick for him, he found that he could still relax into it, their respective alarm clocks off for now, her bedside book-stack dwindling as his seemed only to grow larger, her reading glasses askew and the closet door left open in a way that would’ve scared him as a child. 

And he presented himself with two lonely options: either he could work out hundreds of different scenarios that left her unscathed and him some kind of half-assed hero, or he could watch her soft breaths until their cadence lulled him to sleep. For once, he picked the second option and drifted off before morning began to creep through the windows.

we-ladcon  asked:

You are an amazing person btw. You mentioned before that Lori told Rick to "speak". I've noticed this season that whenever Michonne is really upset and gets really quiet, Rick reveals something very personal about himself. You can tell it doesn't come easily for him, but he wants to be open with Michonne. It is so sweet to me. The way he just lets her in, the way he exposes his inner demons to her, without her ever having to ask.

Aww thank you 😍 this is perfect; you have put it so well. This is one of the many things that I love about Richonne and their relationship. I could not have said it better myself ☺

anonymous asked:

Hello, I've never made a request before so I'm a bit nervous, but would you do headcanons for Seven having a panic/anxiety attack, and maybe ways MC could help him through it? Also, would it be okay for me to use them in a fanfic I'm writing? Thank you!

Awwwwh
And if you give credit I wouldn’t mind using it in your story :) Send us the link, I’d want to read it :)
Hope you don’t mind ~spoilers~ for his after ending and such 
~Mod L

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hiiii! I've never sent a request before so I hope I'm doing this right lol anyways could you maybe do something where MC is actually kidnapped and taken to Mint Eye HQ and how rfa + v try to save her? Sorry this is really specific but I had a dream about this !!

hi anon! you did it just fine, and that’s sounds like a hella fun request!!! don’t be sorry, be specific as you wish!!ヽ(^o^)ノ

hope you like it~ <3 


[ spoilers!! ]

zen

  • zen is Stressed 
  • he knew this would happen, his dream told him so
  • and he is going to get her back 
  • drives his motorcycle there after he yells at seven to give him the address
  • storms in and is ready to fight Unknown
  • mc helps out too!! she hits Unknown in the back of the head
  • they run out and get on his bike as Unknown is running after them
  • it was an Experience, really
  • he takes her to his house and they cuddle on the couch for a while
  • zen sings her a lullaby to help her sleep and puts her to bed
  • he sleeps on the couch that night, but everything is worth it because she’s safe 
  • like in his route, mc’s staying at his place now, there’s no way he’s letting her stay on her own  

yoosung

  • whAT IS THIS POOR BABY GONNA DO HE’S SO STRESSED
  • gets seven to drive him and also as backup
  • the rest oft the rfa is on standby just in case
  • yoosung literally runs in, leaving seven behind
  • finds Unknown with her and attempts to save her
  • seven managed to get inside on time to help him
  • but, like in his route, seven recognizes Unknown and gets distracted
  • no time for that, though, Unknown is down for a second, we gotta go!!
  • sits in the backseat with mc, holding her close
  • seven is quiet for the rest of the ride, but yoosung is just so happy his love is safe

jaehee

  • ya’ll messed with the wrong woman
  • luciel doesn’t hesitate to give her the address, she goes
  • v doesn’t try to stop her
  • no one tries to stop her
  • it’s really only mc and Unknown when she gets there, everyone left
  • and jaehee takes him down easily 
  • thanks to her judo training
  • takes mc home and wraps them in a blanket with hot chocolate and a movie
  • she joins them, but only after a phone call to luciel
  • this is never happening again, not if jaehee has anything to say about it
  • mc also stays with her from now on, she’s safer there
  • jumin also sends bodyguards…just to be sure

jumin

  • mint eye better prepare themselves
  • jumin is Livid
  • luciel sent him the coordinates and he’s going in 
  • he has bodyguards with him, but he is going in
  • doesn’t even care about unknown or the others, he goes straight for mc
  • but one thing does stop him
  • and that’s seeing rika
  • he’s so surprised but he can’t lose focus so he gets mc out of there
  • jumin is so glad they’re safe and sound and will Never let anything like this happen again
  • when mc goes to sleep that night, however, he does make a phone call to v

707 / luciel / saeyoung

  • is beyond stressed 
  • packs up and is Leaving goodbye Vanderwood, there’s no stopping him
  • he’s ready to unleash hell on Mint Eye to get mc back
  • but he sees who has her
  • it’s saeran….and.. rika 
  • no time for questions, though, he’s gotta save mc and saeran
  • saeran Does Not want to go with him and rika is giving him all this crap he doesn’t need right now
  • so he improvises
  • distract rika, knock saeran out, grab him and mc and run
  • which he does
  • saeran is Not Pleased and neither is  Saeyoung
  • stays with mc for a while until he knows they’re okay and then stays with saeran
  • also calls up v and yells at him
  • he needs to explain
  • saeyoung’s kinda just glad everyone’s okay

v / jihyun

  • oh no no no no no no 
  • this is his fault, he let this happen, oh no 
  • he has to fix it. he’s going to fix it.
  • literally tells saeyoung not to bother, he’ll take care of it
  • he goes over there, like he’s been doing, but this time he’s not there for rika
  • he’s there for mc and he’s not leaving without her 
  • begs rika and saeran to let her go
  • “she has nothing to do with this, she’s innocent. I know you don’t want her.” 
  • and believe it or not, rika makes him choose: her or mc
  • he thinks its ridiculous because that shouldn’t be a question
  • v loved rika and would do anything for her, he’s in love with her
  • but mc has made the rfa so happy and brought them hope
  • and he finds himself smiling again when he checks the chatroom
  • as well as constantly worrying for her
  • but rika makes him choose. and this one time he really listens to his heart and what he thinks is best not only for everyone, but himself
  • he chooses mc
  • they manage to get away, and v feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders

anonymous asked:

I've never really had a true "daddy harry" kink, BUT my word do I want him to dominate me. Can u just imagine sitting across from him at dinner, wearing a dress with nothing underneath cause he told you he'd pull you over his knee in the restaurant if he found out you'd disobeyed his instructions to wear no panties. Telling you quitely across the table what he wanted to do to you when you got home. Denying your orgasm over and over before finally spanking you until you came. UGH the dream

His tongue in his cheek the entire dinner because he’s fucking hard thinking about your pussy being so OPEN and he can’t do anything about it. “Gonna get a good punishment when you get home. Gonna make that pussy mine.”