and man did it come out terribly

stuff that was (probably) overheard in the haus

holster: dude, which of these ties for the banquet?

ransom: well, I’d say this one looks better with your suit, but that one brings out those beautiful baby blues, bro

holster: …bro


nursey: how can you not appreciate this? it’s ART, man! it’s a huge fuck-you to society’s standards, to their rules, to their total control over how we all have to look and talk and think!

dex: just admit that you put your shirt on inside out by accident


shitty: as she simultaneously tackles and proves herself in yet another field of art, this is clearly some of ms. duan’s most inspiring work yet. the composition, the lighting, the sheer beauty of the subject-

lardo: all i asked was if you thought this selfie was good enough for instagram


bitty: what the HELL, jack. i thought you were my FRIEND. i thought you had my back. i thought you were my captain, i thought i could trust you…but you betrayed me. get out of my kitchen. i can’t look at you right now. i need to be alone

jack: bits, all i did was accidentally buy margarine


farmer: i was super into yu-gi-oh when i was a kid

chowder: damn that’s weird because i’m super into YOU-gi-oh right now

farmer: that was terrible and i love you


jack: where are a double double and a box of timbits when you need them, eh?

ransom: ugh i know

bitty: what language is this


holster: if i staged a one man production of legally blonde the musical would you come see it

ransom: yes but you have to come to my one man show of wicked

holster: deal


lardo: if you could have dinner with any person who died who would you have it with? i think i’d pick frida kahlo

shitty: whoever invented weed


jack: when i was little i used to have nightmares about global warming because i was afraid the ice would all melt so i couldn’t play hockey anymore

bitty: that is simultaneously adorable and heartbreaking


dex: okay so you literally know how to knit but the minute i play any journey music I’M the old man

nursey: i’m classy old. i’m a gracefully aging angela bassett. you’re a white dad at a barbecue whose secret spice is pepper

Li’l Lou

Pairings- Loki Laufeyson x Reader, starring dense!reader.

Requested by anon and based on this imagine of mine.

Warnings- this is probably not as romantic as you expect. I had no idea what to write, so I came up with something which I hope is kinda funny?

Originally posted by amarnaphile

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Ragnar had set his ships towards Norway and at some point during the journey he brought his ships into a little harbor to rest for some time. In the morning, a few men went onto the land to bake bread. They saw that there was a farm nearby and decided to go there and ask to do their work in the house. So they went to the little farm and met the poor woman called Grima. The men said that they were the liege-men of Ragnar Lodbrok and that they wished to carry out their work in the house and that she should help them in their work.

Grima responded that her hands were too stiff for such work, but her daughter would be home soon and could work with them. And when Aslaug (who was at the time known as Kraka) entered the house, the men were shocked by her beauty, for she was the most beautiful of all women. They agreed that Aslaug should work with them and said that she should knead the bread and they would bake it. She went about her work and did it well, but the men were constantly turning to gaze at her and so they did not mind their work and the bread burned.

When they returned to the ship, they brought out the meal and everyone agreed that they had never tasted anything so terrible. They told Ragnar that they saw a woman so beautiful they did not mind their work, they said there was not a more beautiful woman in the entire world. Ragnar decreed that messengers would be sent to her, with an invitation to come and meet with him. However he issued a riddle with this invitation, that he wanted her to come neither dressed nor undressed, neither fed nor unfed and not alone, yet with no man to accompany her.

When Aslaug heard this message, she told the messengers that she would go down to the ship early in the morning. The next day, she went down to the ships and she was fair to see, with hair that looked like gold. And she had also answered the riddle, for she had wrapped a fish-net around herself, tasted nothing but one leek and was accompanied only by her dog.

Ragnar and Aslaug’s first meeting ~ The Saga of Ragnar Lodbrok

John goes over to Sherlock’s the morning after the wedding, wanting to thank him again for the waltz—or that’s what he tells himself the reason for his visit is. What he finds erases every other fight from his mind.

In which John finds his way to a new life, and Sherlock finds his way back to his old one.

John hadn’t realized Sherlock had left his wedding until probably hours after it was too late. He was dancing, sharing kisses with his new wife when cheers erupted, and having seconds on cake. He was too busy to notice the absence of his best friend—his best friend whom he knew this was hard for—and he’d felt guilt wash over him the second he’d realized. He had been itching to break for the door, for 221B. But he’d stayed. It was his wedding. He should have preferred to stay. Guilt washed through him for this too. So he stayed. And he wouldn’t know the consequences of this until the next morning, when he used his key that he hadn’t had the heart to give back.

Ms. Hudson didn’t seem to be awake yet, although he didn’t blame her. They’d all had quite a sum of champagne last night. He took the stairs two at a time as quietly as he could manage, and hesitated briefly outside the door to his now ex-flat. He should have guessed something was off right then. There was no sounds coming from within. No rustling of papers, no mumbling. No tea boiling, no nothing. Sherlock definitely hadn’t had anything to drink, in fact he probably had left before the party really even started. John couldn’t think of any reason as to why Sherlock would alter his morning routine… Well, he could, but Sherlock never was the lie in type. He shook his head a little, and opened the door, expecting—hoping—to find his friend out. He wouldn’t have minded waiting a bit for Sherlock to return. If he was out and about that meant he was doing alright, didn’t it?

But Sherlock was not out. He was not out and he was not doing alright.

“Christ, Sherlock-“ John was on red alert in a second, so much so that for a moment he felt army canvas against his skin and hot desert wind in his hair, “Sherlock.”

The name brought him back to present. He repeated it over and over again, keeping himself there, keeping himself away from pure panic, as he nearly tripped over himself to get to where Sherlock was, slumped low on the floor, back leaning against John’s chair, arm out, needle inches from his open palm.

John pressed his palms to Sherlock’s neck, “Sherlock, hey, can you hear me?” His pulse was slow, and so faint that John could practically feel it struggling to reach his fingertips from underneath Sherlock’s paled skin, “C’mon.” He glanced at the needle, then at the small bruised circles littering Sherlock’s forearm, “Jesus, how much did you take? Sherlock, c’mon,” John pressed his thumbs in slow caresses over Sherlock’s cheeks, not sure why he was doing it, knowing it wouldn’t help anything, “Wake up, please. Please.”

Finally, Sherlock let out a breath that broke his steady breathing rhythm, signaling his approach to consciousness.

“John…” His lips barely moved but the word was clear as day, ringing in John’s ears.

“‘m here. Right here.” He hadn’t noticed he was holding his breath until he spoke, seeing stars at the sudden flow of oxygen to his brain, “Can you open your eyes?”

“John.” Sherlock’s head rolled against the sofa like he was trying to pick it up and failing.

John felt his throat tighten at the dangerous lack of response he was getting from his best friend, “Yes, yes it’s John. Sherlock, do I have to call an ambulance? Can you open your eyes for me?” Sherlock just breathed evenly, making a sound that was less and less recognizable as John’s name every time.

The panic John had felt spiked, “Fuck,” he cursed. He pressed the cool cloth to Sherlock’s neck, taking his hand in his own with the other, “Can you squeeze my hand? Just a little, Holmes, just to show you can hear me.”

John didn’t get a squeeze.


John had called the ambulance with shaking fingers, fingers that were still shaking as he sat in Sherlock’s hospital room—very nice hospital room, courtesy of Mycroft. He couldn’t get Sherlock’s words out of his head. He’d come to on the way to the hospital, obviously not himself and desperately trying to rip away the solution the paramedics were trying to detox him with. He was practically delirious, snapping and cursing out everyone in sight… until he’d caught sight of John. His entire body had gone limp then, falling lax against the stretcher, eyes never leaving John’s face.

“Just experimenting…” Sherlock’s eyes slid in and out of focus, “Was thinking last night. Couldn’t sort it through. Patches weren’t enough.”

“Mr. Holmes, what did you take?”

John had wanted to push the paramedic out of the way, to let Sherlock finish his sentence. 

Couldn’t sort what out?

Why did you have to leave?

Sherlock had ignored his question, eyes focused now, on John’s.

“Approximately 39% of the people present were only there for the alcohol. Common thing at weddings. People get sad. Only… people don’t want people to know that they’re sad. Funny thing, happiness. How it can make someone sad.” His eyes had slid out again, he was somewhere else, somewhere caught between this world and the drugs, “Are you happy..”

John had just stared back at Sherlock, shaking his head, “Sherlock-“ The paramedic pressed a hand against his chest. John hadn’t even realized he had started to lean forward.

“Sir, please let us work. Do you have any idea what he-“

But John wasn’t listening anymore. Because Sherlock’s eyes, still staring blankly, were wet.

And no, John thought, no, Sherlock, I’m not happy.

John closed his eyes against the memory, squeezing his hands together, trying to ease the tension out of them. He’d already burnt himself twice with his tea, he wasn’t going to risk picking it up again, even if it would calm his nerves.

He played the words over and over in his mind.

People get sad. Only… people don’t want people to know that they’re sad.

Sherlock had been talking about himself. John felt the pinch of this realization in his heart. The man who had mastered the art of masking one’s feelings not only needed drugs to tell John how he felt, but he needed to translate it into a hypothetical situation with statistics and reasoning. But, then again, what good would have come out of the alternative?

What would have happened if Sherlock had been sitting there, waiting for John to arrive, and had simply told him, heart on his sleeve, that John marrying Mary made him…sad. John shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the notion that anything he did could make Sherlock Holmes something as simple and as terrible as sad.

Why was he sad? Was it why he had left? Mary had been so quick to pack it up to Sherlock being socially awkward. John had been quick to take that reasoning. It was easy. He knew better. Selfish. John pressed his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes. This wasn’t how he expected the morning after his wedding to go. He knew he should have stayed in bed with Mary, with his wife, and yet, despite not having lived there for years, he longed for Baker Street. Maybe it was the fact that Sherlock’s presence now occupied it once again, maybe it was a wave of nostalgia… He’d needed Sherlock. Sitting here in the waiting room, he felt he’d always need Sherlock. Maybe more than anything else.

John closed his eyes, shaking himself. It’s the setting, he told himself. It’s the setting, and the shock and you don’t feel this anymore. You’re married and you haven’t felt this for two years-

“Dr. Watson?”

John stood, back straight, hands closing and opening fists at his side, “Yes. Yes? Is-“

“You’re here for Mr. Holmes, yes?”

John cleared his throat of the lump that had occupied it, “Yes. I- I am. Is he- how is he?”

The young nurse let out a breath, folding the clipboard she held against her chest, “Well, stable. But just barely. He really…” She pursed her lips in a concerned but soft way, “Dr. Watson, if he’s your friend, I’d recommend you urge him to get help. You’d told the paramedics that this was a one off, but… one offs don’t use drugs like that. That was a very precise concoction of narcotics he’d made there. Very… purposeful.”

John raised an eyebrow, shifting to pick up his tea, just to have something to hold. His hands had stopped shaking, every piece of nervous energy shifting to his pounding heart, “Right… I… Sorry, what do you mean by… purposeful?”

The nurse’s brows creased, and she gave him a sad, not smile, but her lips pressed together like if this was a happier situation it could have been. Instead the look was full of pity, of knowing, and of telling without words. John’s stomach dropped. He’d never felt more sick.

“Oh.” John set the tea back down, flattening his palm against the wall for support, “God. Are you sure?”

She tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, “Well, only he can know his reasons. But whatever he was trying to do, it was dangerous. He probably knew it too. He either thought it was worth the risk or he just didn’t care.”

John closed his eyes briefly, inhaling sharply through his nose. He’d done this. He knew how this would effect Sherlock and he’d ignored it. He’d driven him to…

“I’d like to see him, please.”

She nodded wordlessly, and turned for him to follow.

Love these two. Just a little thing I did to get my brain in the zone for some Kitchens writing tomorrow! :) Feeling somewhat better!

Sometimes I still can’t believe the writers of Always Sunny, who’ve said the show holds a dark mirror up to society to satirize it in the form of truly terrible individuals, and the show, whose primary model is to culture characters who never learn or grow, or experience any success or happiness because they are awful people, let Mac come out of the closet and accept his sexuality. And they did it specifically because they felt they had a social obligation to do so. 

I want to see Mac embracing his sexuality next season. The man spent forty damn years in the closet. I want to see him flirt and hook up with dudes, maybe try the boyfriend thing, and just be happy, with or without Dennis. He deserves it.

The surrender

Title: The surrender

Pairing: Kai x Reader

Word Count: 4.3K+  

Warnings: romantic, fluff, angst, OOC!Kai

Summary: The reader is gonna marry Kai, but someone from his past comes to make him pay his debts.  

Notes: This is the story I wrote for the Fandom Writing Challenge, my prompt was gym. This contest is such a great idea! Hope you like the fic :) This fic takes place after s6 of TVD, but some things are different.    

She had met Kai four years ago. It was like she had been known him since forever. They shared multiple passions together, they had the same interests and the same black humour. She loved the way he used to wake her up in the middle of the night to start deep conversations, kissing her on the cheek so slowly and in a very sweet way, she felt home with him; she loved how they made up after a fight, ending everytime with her unbottoning his shirt and him pushing her closer, so close it would feel like even their skin was too much to separate them; but most of all, she loved how he made the proposal special. He had prepared the house they bought together with roses all around the living room, candles, their song played by the vinyl (Sweater Weather, by the Neighbourhood) and he was wearing a smoking. He kneeled down and he showed her the little blue box in which there was the ring. She was in tears, with her hands on her lips, astonished. Then she smiled, murmuring softly Yes.

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Letters to Bucky (Part One)(WinterIron AU)

Welcome to the story! We get our favorite billionaire writing love letters to our lovely soldier. No powers/suits, but Tony is still Tony Stark (think IM1 Pre-arc reactor) and Bucky is a special ops soldier.

It starts a little slow, but its a longish fic so just hang tight!

This is a completed fic! Check out the MASTERLIST!


To: Master Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes

–The rehab facility I am trapped at has encouraged me to work through my depression and regain my mental balance and health by becoming pen pals with a soldier. I pulled your name from the box, so lucky you. I think this is a terrible idea, and I can’t see how it will help me, but they are insisting and I don’t really want a crazy stamp on my forehead so here goes.
–I guess I should emphasize that this isn’t a rehab center for narcotic abusers, even though after months of these heavy duty pain killers they are giving me, I might need a stint in that kind of place as well.
–My name is Tony. On Thanksgiving Day I was in an accident that nearly cost me my life. I broke my sternum and several ribs and they had to restart my heart twice on the operating table. Several other broken bones, a breathing tube and liquid only diet for way too long. And now a stint in a rehab/hospice, where all i do is stare at four walls all day and try not to go crazy.
–You know as I’m writing this I realize I may in fact be depressed. Who wouldn’t be?
–Anyway, whether you write back or not, and I won’t blame you if you don’t because I am just terrible at this, stay safe out there. You and all the other boys making sure jerks like me sleep well at night.


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You’re Hot, I’m Not

Peter ParkerxReader


Word Count: 2784

A/N: Idea I got from a post I came across, it was this person telling a story about how every time they see their really attractive neighbor they look terrible. Not my gif… I know I don’t say that on every story but I assume there is a general knowledge for it, but I’ll say it just in case this time.

Part II

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anonymous asked:

Mukuro's s/o wanting to change their name to get away from family. How would he react? Scenario please~


admin Adelheid

~I hope this is okay, Anon. Thank you for the ask.~

He just happened on them by pure accident.

You had a habit of borrowing his books and conveniently ‘forgetting’ to return them to him even though it had been months since you finished them. Mukuro thought it was cute and he had since considered it a game between the two of you when he would steal into your house to begin the Easter egg hunt that involved his books and the various places in your apartment you might have hidden it. He had even found one in your underwear drawer once. It had been quite an interesting find that led to more interesting things.

So when he found an odd looking loose floorboard protruding slightly from the carpet of your bedroom he had thought he had hit the jackpot. He did think it odd that you would go out of your way to ruin your floors just for the sake of your game, though.

It was there that he found the passports with your face but none of your names on them. There was also a large amount of cash. He had also found a gun with its serial number filed off and several nicks in the barrel to make it indiscernible if one fired a shot from it.

He was sitting on your bed staring at the box, a mix of denial and disbelief chasing each other across his hetero chromatic eyes when you found him. And your heart broke all over again.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice hoarse as though he had been gargling glass.

You sucked a deep breath in and closed your eyes against the stinging tears threatening to spill to your cheeks. You had never wanted to hurt him. You loved him too much for this but… but… “I can’t do it anymore, Mukuro. I just… can’t.”

Mukuro shook his head at your words and tried again. “I don’t understand.”

“They made me kill children!”

“That was a mistake.” He told you between gritted teeth, remembering the incident where you had accidentally blown up a school bus full of children with your Flames as you chased and cornered a traitor. An incident that Mukuro had personally taken pains to sweep under the rug and made the media and authorities declare the incident as the fault of drunk driving. “You didn’t know. You didn’t mean to―”

It doesn’t matter!” you cried out as tears fell from your eyes like a veritable waterfall. “I’m sorry, Mukuro, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me but it doesn’t change the fact that I killed them! They haunt me in my sleep! They cry out for me when I wake up! I see their faces everywhere I go blaming me! Consigning me to hell! And now every time I take a mission I’m always afraid and I’m even more scared I’ll get someone killed because of my mistakes… I can’t do this anymore! I just can’t!”

“And do you think changing your name and running away from the Mafia will solve all that?!”

“It’s better than staying here and going mad!”

He watched you tremble and shake and cry. Mukuro suddenly understood that it was too late to help you. Too late for you to turn back. You were ruined. Ruined by the same beautiful conscience that he had fallen in love with the moment he had first spoken to you. Ruined by the honor that had attracted him to you in the first place. Keeping you here would only break you… And he loved you too much to see you despair.

And yet the selfish possessiveness so ingrained in his heart refused to let you go. “So what do you want me to do? Give you up? Let you leave?”

“Run away with me, Mukuro.” His heart stopped at the words. He could hardly believe what he had just heard. You approached him, knelt between his legs, wrapped your arms around him and kissed the bottom of his chin in a way that made him close his eyes. “Surely… Surely you want some peace too?”

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you back and taking you on your bed with the dizzying desperation of the damned. You made him feel things. You made him want the things he couldn’t have! He wanted to marry you! And as he kissed you back and thrust inside you his heart repeated the tempting litany like a siren’s song.

Maybe he could come with you? Maybe he could leave? Maybe you could still be together despite all the odds…?

But even as he stared at your sleeping face after the seemingly endless night of lovemaking he knew that there was no way out for him. He was a Vongola Guardian. His fate was tied the moment Sawada Tsunayoshi bailed him out of Vindicare. How could he turn his back on the only man who had willingly accepted him despite his person being engulfed in sins too terrible to forgive?

He was nothing like you. You did not come to the Mafia tainted. It was the Mafia who had tainted you. It was to be expected that you would break down after an ordeal like that. Your heart was too good. It was not etched in madness. You deserved more than what the Mafia could give you.

You deserved more than him

He kissed your forehead tenderly and held you close to his chest as you slept. Decision already manifesting in his will as he allowed his indigo Flames to engulf you through his touch even as bitter tears flowed from his chin to soak into your hair.

“I love you…” he whispered fiercely as he held you desperately close. “I’ll always love you…”

A few days later you were at the airport waiting for your flight to be called. Once you heard it over the airport’s announcement you started dragging your luggage behind you. On the way you bumped into a man making you drop your passport.

“I’m sorry!” you apologized as you bent to pick your fallen credentials up.

However a larger, gloved hand beat you to it and you blink when the papers were offered to you by the stranger. “No, the fault was all mine.”

You look up and blinked. In front of you was a handsome man with red and blue eyes. You were arrested at their sheer beauty even as the wry smirk on his lips made you want to smile back.

“Japan, is it?” he asked, peeking at your tickets as you took them in your hand. “I’ve heard it’s a lovely place.”

“It is!” you chirped with a bright smile at the charming stranger. Strange… you thought. Why do I suddenly want to cry? “You should come visit some time!”

He nodded. As regal and poised as a nobleman in storybooks. “Perhaps I will. Someday. Have a safe flight.”

“Ah! You too! Oh!” you started as the speakers called your flight again and you started to rush. “I need to go or they’ll leave without me! Goodbye!”

Mukuro watched you rush away; his eyes dull and lifeless. He had already briefed Tsunayoshi that you would not be returning. And though the Vongola Decimo seemed to suspect that something else was going on he deigned to feign an ignorance Mukuro was grateful for.

“I love you…” He whispered wearily even as the busy airport crowd passed him by. “I will always love you…”

This is Spiderman (Peter Parker x Reader)

Originally posted by jxmesmcavoy

Word Count: 1354

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

AN: So in this the reader is Tony Stark’s daughter because I love Tony. Hope you like it :)

You were a Stark. Yes, that came with a lot of problems, such as trying to keep yourself safe from anyone who could use you to hurt your father since he was also Iron Man. So, not many people knew you existed, well, as a Stark anyway. Your dad made sure you kept a low profile because he couldn’t bare to have anything happen to you. At school you used a fake last name and kept to yourself and your few friends. Your life wasn’t that exciting, until you met Peter Parker.

It was a Sunday morning and you really didn’t feel like getting out of bed, so you didn’t. You were watching an anime series when you heard your dad come home. You knew he would be at your door any minute now.

The door opened to reveal your dad and, an attractive teenage boy?! You were so shocked and surprised that you, well, you fell off the bed. There is an attractive teenage boy standing in your doorway and you’re in your pajamas that have a stain from the cereal you split on yourself earlier that morning and your hair resembled a birds nest. Abort mission abort mission!

“Y/N? What are you doing on the floor?” Your dad gave you a strange look.

“Gosh dad can you knock next time? You’re worse than Vision!” You finally stood up, pulling at your hair and clothes, trying to make yourself look more presentable. 

“Anyway…I’d like you to meet our newest recruit Peter Parker, also known as Spider-man.” Your eyes widened at this. Not only was this guy extremely attractive, but he’s also Spider-man?! You’ve secretly had the biggest crush on Spider-man ever since you saw him swinging around on the web (hehe get it).

You started to get all nervous, you couldn’t believe this was happening. He finally spoke up. “Um-hey, i’m Peter. It’s really nice to meet you.” He shyly said as his cheeks flushed red. “Gosh he was so cute.” You thought to yourself.

“Oh-um-i’m-ugh-” Your nerves were getting the better of you, but Tony interrupted you anyway, realizing what was going on here. He knew what this was. Two teenagers acting nervous around each other, blushing and Y/N finding difficulty in telling Spiderling her own name. He wouldn’t let this happen, not with his daughter!

“Yes and you’re Y/N. My daughter. Who is off limits to you Spiderling so don’t get any ideas.” Tony was frustrated now and was adamant on keeping you two apart.

Both you and Peter blushed even more now, embarrassed at Tony’s words. Trust Tony to ruin any chances you have of dating.

“I wasn’t…uh.” Peter was at a loss for words.

Thankfully Tony put an end to the awkward tension in the air. “I need to make some upgrades to your suit, come one.” Tony gestured towards Peter, who began following your dad to his lab.

“see ya around Y/N.” Peter shyly said before he left.

A few seconds later you awkwardly shout out. “Ugh-bye Peter!” You cringe at yourself for being such a dork. You were terrible at talking to guys. But hopefully you’d be seeing more of Spider-man. 

Overtime, Peter came to the tower more frequently and you tended to avoid him. It’s not like you were avoiding him because you didn’t like him. It was actually the opposite, you did like him and that was problematic because every time you’re around him you turn into a nervous and mumbling mess, honestly just embarrassing yourself.

 One night your were staying up late, watching the fourth Harry Potter movie (because it was your favourite) and eating cereal on the couch. You were watching and reacting to the movie as is you had never seen it before, when in reality you had watched it probably 100 times. You were too busy laughing at Ron wearing his hand-me-down dress robes, that you didn’t hear Peter walk in.

So when he said “hey” you fell of the couch muttering a “holy shit!”, being jump scared by Parker, or should you say Spider-man? Why do you keep falling off things in front of him? You’d never actually seen him in his suit up close, it was, amazing. Why was he wearing his suit around anyway? Peter’s laughter cut off your thinking, he pulled off his mask.

 “What the heck Peter, you scared the hell out of me.” 

He ran his fingers through his hair, still laughing at your reaction, but managed to stop his laughter to ask. “What are you doing up?”

“Watching Harry Potter, eating cereal, apparently being jump scared by Spider-man.” You huffed and crossed your arms, annoyed at Peter for scaring you like that. “Anyway, why are you walking around in your Spidey suit?”

Ignoring your question, he continues. “Cereal at night?”

“Cereal is amazing Parker.” 

“I won’t fight you on that.”

“Lucky for you because i’d win.” You don’t know where this confidence came from, but you liked it.

Peter smirks “Oh really?” 

“Yup. Anyway you didn’t answer my question.”

“I was just testing out an upgrade to my web shooters.” 

“Is it fun? Swinging on webs from building to building I mean?”

“Why don’t you find out?” Peter said with a mischievous grin.

You were hesitant at first. Yes, swinging around the city sounded fun but you also didn’t feel like being accidentally dropped to your death tonight. “Oh no-I couldn’t.” 

“Don’t worry, I promise you, no, I swear to you on my life that I will not let anything happen to you.” His words earned your trust, you hesitantly nodded your head, both of you walking to the balcony.

“Just, make sure you hold on tight.” You obliged, shyly wrapping your arms around his waist, him wrapping an arm around yours. Oh god you were really close to him right now and your cheeks must be so red.

“What if-” But your words were cut off, as you Peter jumped off the edge, taking you with him. You instinctively clung to Peter and buried your head into his chest like your life depended on it, because, well it kind of did right now. Then with a thwip! he launched his web shooter to the closest building. 

Finally looking up, you were left in awe at the sights in front of you. Everything looked so small from up here and so beautiful. Peter kept shooting his webs from one building to the next, but was moving a little slower than usual since he had you with him. You couldn’t even form any words, you were left speechless. This was the most incredible experience you’ve ever had. 

Once you both landed back at the balcony you turned to Peter and jumped, embracing him in a hug with your arms around his neck. “That was amazing, honestly that was so much fun! You invented that webbing?! That’s so freaking cool Parker I don’t think you even know.” 

Realizing you were still wrapped around him you quickly took a step backwards, embarrassed at your actions.

Peter chuckled, he thought you were extremely cute. “Thanks. We can do that again sometime-if if you want to that is?” He nervously asked, you always seemed to make him nervous.

“I’d like that.” You smiled up at Peter, him blushing like crazy.

“But for now, do you want to maybe-I dunno, watch the rest of this movie with me?” You pointed back to the TV which was still playing Harry Potter. Peter nodded and you both spent the rest of the night curled up together in blankets on the couch. You had accidentally fallen asleep on Peter towards the end of the movie. 

Once it ended, he looked down at you taking in all your features as you silently slept on his lap. “Gosh you’re so beautiful.” He said quietly to try and not wake you, not knowing that you heard everything he just said. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, laying you down on the couch and covering you with the blankets. Peter muttered a quiet “goodnight” and left the tower, also leaving you with butterflies in your stomach.

Lovesick (Owen Grady x Reader)

Inspired by this anon’s headcanon: Imagine bae is a nurse/doctor on the island and Owen goes to the infirmary for every little thing because he just wants to see her and talk to her. (& he’s not even hurt but she desperately needs to look at that bruise bc owen is in soooo much pain)  

It was your first day on the job, and already you regretting taking it. At first it’d been ok. A few people showed up requesting band aids for blisters on their feet, and one or two had fainted from the heat, but other than that, there was nothing too difficult that you had to deal with. But then he came in.

Another man had his arm around him for support, as he hopped in on one foot, grumbling and muttering about how being there was unnecessary; but the trail of blood he was leaving behind said otherwise. You rushed to his side and gasped. On the back of his calf was a deep laceration that had to be at least six inches long.

“What happened?” you asked quickly as you helped him to the nearest cot.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” he replied bitterly, earning a roll of the eyes from his companion.

“We work with the velociraptors,” the other man said. You nodded, not needing any further explanation.

“Okay, well I’m going to need you to lay down on your stomach, sir,” you instructed with your back turned to him as you searched around in your supply kid to grab the items you needed for sutures. Your heart was racing. You were fresh out of school and this would be your first time giving stitches without an instructor watching over you to make sure everything went ok.

After scrambling around a bit, you gathered everything you needed on a tray and approached him first with a pair of scissors.

“Ah fuck. Do you really need to do that? These are my last good pair of jeans.”

You raised your eyebrows. Clearly he’d been through this process before, but that didn’t surprise you one bit.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, sir. I won’t be able to get to the wound without cutting the clothing away.”

“Owen,” he said shortly. “Call me Owen.”

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Father Said

A/N: This could be a trigger for some. And I admit, I don’t have firsthand experience with this. I tried to stick as close to what was said in the episode, so as not to romanticize the situation, and I hope that comes across here.


It had been six months since he finally thought of something clever to say to one Dr. Jemma Simmons, and it was safe to say he had found a kindred spirit in her. They were inseparable. She challenged him. He challenged her. They made each other better scientists. He had always thought they’d get on, but it was a true relief to discover how right he truly was. 

She was his very best friend. 

And it had been six months of that instant connection when she said it. 

It was in the form of a joke. A seemingly harmless joke spawned from frustration and a week of late nights in the lab, and it flew out of her mouth with as much ease as exhaling a quick breath. 

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On forgiveness and the Shimada bros

So in a great moment of personal strength and bravery Genji forgave Hanzo for ‘murdering’ him. The Overwatch fandom has taken this to mean that they’ve let the past rest and become best brothers again but I’m not entirely sure that’s the case. (Although, because tumblr is a terrible place, that people can interpret canon however they goddamn want, I’m just doing an analysis.)

Genji: What’s wrong, Hanzo? Don’t you recognize me?
Hanzo: You may call yourself my brother, but you are not the Genji I knew.

Genji: So this is what’s become of you, a pity.
Hanzo: I will not be judged by you.

Genji: Any chocolates today, brother?
Hanzo: Those were your amusements. Not mine.

Every single interaction they have is tense and hostile. Half the time Genji is mocking Hanzo or being openly contemptuous. In return Hanzo is angry and defensive. Not really the forgiven brotherly relationship, yeah?

Thing is you need to see Genji’s forgiveness in context. He didn’t show up in Hanamura and warmly greet Hanzo to tell him he’s forgiven. He’s angry, accusatory and mocking in what is the greatest ‘the reason you suck’ speech ever during a no-hold-barred battle that could have gotten either of them killed.  Listen to how he says ‘the person you murdered’ or ‘with incense offerings’; it’s obvious he’s still bitter and angry.

And he’s right; all this time Hanzo goes through the dignified motions of honoring his brother through empty rituals but hasn’t actually done anything to atone. All he’s doing is flagellate himself in self-pity and guilt, trapped in the events of that night for eternity.

Look at Genji’s face when Hanzo tells him to kill him. Dude thinks about it.

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I’m OK

Characters – TFW x Reader

Summary – You’ve been acting strangely for days, and Team Free Will decides it’s high time you told them what was going on.

Word Count – 3,348

Warnings – Mentions and of past child abuse

A/N – Anonymous request: “Can I have a fic where Sam and Dean treat the reader like a younger sister, with her living in the bunker with them cause her mom was killed while they were hunting something? She always told them that her dad wasn’t in the picture, but like 6 years later she starts acting weird and getting stressed out over nothing. One of the bros finally finds out she’s being weird because her dad just got out of jail on child abuse charges and is trying to get her to live with him again. Thanks.”

I hope you enjoy it, Nonnie!  I switched it up just slightly…I hope that’s ok!  It certainly took a turn I wasn’t expecting.  Thank you for your request! And special thanks to @nothin-after-79 for being my beta on this one!

Originally posted by yourockmoose

Your name: submit What is this?

It didn’t take much for the guys to realize something was really bothering you.  You’d lived with them for six years, and they were your best friends.  You all knew each other inside and out.  So it was easy to see the almost immediate change in your behavior and mannerisms. When your smile disappeared almost overnight, they started paying closer attention, waiting and hoping that you’d come to one of them to talk about what was wrong.  When a few days passed and you still hadn’t spoken to anyone and you were still acting uncharacteristically quiet and jumpy, Dean decided a family meeting was in order.

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Broken: Part 2 - Walking Dead

Request:  What if Negan took the reader (Carls age) during the lineup as punishment and a month later she’s returned to Alexandra to the joy of her sister Maggie. While at the sanctuary she was viciously tortured, beaten ,raped (if ur comfortable with writing it) and is completely broken and a bit insane. Although they can heal her physically she’s like, kinda lost her mind and has mad PTSD. Can there please be some major sister fluff to?

Warning: Mentions of sexual assault
Please message me if you have any concerns about how I’ve written this. 

You didn’t know how long you had been at the Sanctuary for but you had been there for a while. Just like Daryl, you had gotten beaten up, pushed around and bullied. You were losing yourself. You hadn’t seen Daryl since being in the van with him but you could hear it when he had visitors. Daryl could hear you too and it was driving him mad. Not being able to do anything to stop you from getting hurt made him feel powerless and he didn’t like it. You were just a kid; you didn’t deserve it.
You also hadn’t seen Negan. The only people you’ve seen were his men who either dropped off food, bullied you till you cried, or beat you till you couldn’t move.
When you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. Your innocence was taken from you in the worst way possible. You tried to fight him but you weren’t strong enough. Daryl heard it going on through the wall and he was banging so hard on the door, he almost broke his hand. He jumped when he heard a gunshot and listened closely, his body trembling like mad. 

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@thestrawberryblondehobbitbatch asked:

Sherlock x reader. Mycroft thinks Sherlock new girlfriend has history with self harm. Cutting her self and burning herself. But it turned out to be an abusive ex that Sherlock is fighting against. This name was James Moriarty.

Warnings: mentions of self harm and abuse.

“Tea, Mycroft?” You asked the eldest Holmes brother. He was over at 221B trying to convince Sherlock to take a certain case.

“No thank you,” He replied. “I had some earlier.”

“Okay.” You continued to make a cup of tea for yourself and Sherlock. You had been dating the famous Sherlock Holmes for around a month however no one knew until last week when John and Mrs Hudson walked in on you both asleep on the settee in each other’s arms. Although John teased you about it, he was worried as he did not want you to get hurt. You made them promise not to tell. John kept the secret but Mrs Hudson couldn’t contain herself. She’d made a bet with Lestrade on whether you and Sherlock would hook up. She won of course. She’d always adored you both and she was a huge shipper of you both. You knew she wouldn’t keep the secret but it was worth a try. In approximately 32 minutes, you phone was bombarded with texts from your friends. All of which were concerning Sherlock. Mycroft was not surprised. He could tell his brother had fallen for you. Mycroft was disappointed with him for caring but he was glad he was happy. You were lovely so he was happy with his brother’s choice of partner despite you not being as intelligent as them. There was one problem though as Mycroft thought you were a self harmer. He had caught glimpses of burns and scars up your arms and he could tell you were trying to hide them. Little did he know…



“Ah you came!” Mycroft said with a fake smile plastered to his face as his brother walked through the door.

“Well it is particularly hard to avoid your demands,” He replied and sat down in the chair opposite Mycroft at his desk.

“So, brother mine, have you decided to take me case?”

“Both you and I know that that is not why I’m here. What am I here for?”

Mycroft sighed. “There is something you should know. Y/N… Well… I have reason to believe she self harms.”

Sherlock paused. “I know. I know that she does.”

Mycroft analysed Sherlock. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“You’re not telling me something. She doesn’t self harm does she?”

Sherlock sighed. “Before I met her, which was three years ago, she was in a terrible state. Y/N had been abused by her former boyfriend. John and I had managed to make her feel safer and secure but she was still emotionally scarred. She was wary when she first dated me but she seemed to have been fine. That was until I mentioned the name of her ex after coming across him. At the time, I did not realise who it was but when she broke down, I worked it out.”

“And this man was?”

“James Moriarty.”

“For Christ’s sake.” Mycroft put his head in his hands. This would not be easy.

Student Council Prez [13.5]

Back to Episode 13
Words: 570

The moment she steps inside the shack, she gags and almost throws up at the stench reeking in the living room. She clutches her handbag closer to her body, almost acting as a shield while she steps over a pizza box, her kitten heels hitting the ground. “Disgusting.” She mutters at the pile of clothes and stack of dirty dishes on the counter.

“Y/N? Did you come for a visit?” A familiar voice calls out from the bedroom.

“Y/N who? Don’t tell me you contact her regularly!” She spits out as the man emerges. “You’re a terrible influence.”

His smile falls as he looks at her, mouth dropping to the ground in shock and he blinks hard several times. “Eunhye?”

She smirks, lifting her head high. “Who else could it be? Don’t tell me I’m unrecognizable, I’m not that old yet.” She snaps.

“No, it’s just…it’s just….”

“You’re still such a slob, aren’t you. Even when we all lived together, you room was the most disgusting.”

He grins, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “You haven’t seen your younger brother in so long and you’re already nagging him?”  

“Maybe if you actually picked yourself up and looked in the mirror once in awhile, everyone including our family members would like you better.”

“Ah shucks.” He swats the air with his hand. “Since when did you care about the relatives so much? You used to hate them.” He takes a long sigh. “But what brings you to town?”

She scoffs. “My own business. Just taking a look at the children.”

He nods. “They’re doing quite well for their age. Y/N’s really something. She’s got your work ethic and our sister’s determination.”

Upon the mention of their deceased sister, they grow quiet.

The two siblings hadn’t been in the same room or even seen each other since their sister’s funeral. Maybe it was the difference in personality or that she had been the glue and peacekeeper between the two but now she was gone and just like that, they fell apart. They did try but somehow it was always a bit sad when they were together, reminded that the three could never be reunited again and laugh like they once did together; an important missing puzzle piece.

“Are you looking out for them?” Eunhye asks.

“Somewhat.” He smiles meekly. “I try.”

“What are you doing these days?”

“Ah…” He scratches his hair. “Running my own…plant business. I sell plants…kind of.”

She nods. “That’s good for the environment.” He chuckles quietly, agreeing with her.

“You know…you should come down to the farm with us sometime.” Eunhye speaks louder, face twisting in disgust when the smell lingers in her nose. “If you cleaned yourself up and lived less like a rat, we wouldn’t mind having another helping hand around.”

He laughs, a roar erupting from his chest. It was the first time his older sister ever offered a stay at her precious farm to him or even visited his abode. He can’t help but feel their relationship beginning to mend, taking a step forward and leaving all the hurt behind. He wonders if you’ll become the glue of the family one day like your mother once was. “I’ll sure think about it.”

(“Are you hungry? Want some pizza? There’s some in that box by your feet!”

“That’s disgusting!”

“Oh come on, lighten up Eunhye!”


AU prompt: Marinette Dupain-Cheng had her heart shattered right before she decided to go on vacation for a week just to get away from everything. Her fiancé, Adrien Agreste, called off their engagement just two months before the wedding and it left Marinette devastated. She had been so sure that he wanted to marry her, but he began distancing himself from her just a few months before they were to be married and he never explained why. So, here she was, in a small mountain village where no one knew her name and she could nurse her broken heart in peace.

However, when she returned to her hometown she was shocked to discover that half the population was missing and none of the remaining citizens could explain why. She was again shocked when she found a small box on her kitchen table from her ex-fiancé. Inside were photos of them together and several letters from Adrien; letters that she had never seen before. She opened the newest one first, hoping to gain some clarity as to why Adrien left her.

What she reads chills her to her bones.


If you are reading this then I have succeeded. There are no words to express how sorry I am to have broken your heart, but it was necessary. I’ll understand if you hate me and I wouldn’t blame you for it. What I did was unforgivable. You deserve someone much better than me. I am so terribly sorry for what I have done, but I couldn’t let them find you. Please, you must leave this town before the next sundown. Listen to me, Marinette, you must leave! If you stay they will know and they will come for you, too. Please, grant me this last selfish wish and do not stay. Leave while you still can and forget about this cursed town and the fool of man who broke your heart.

I will always love you.


Terror filled Marinette as she looked out the kitchen window to see the last of the sun’s rays slipping beneath the horizon. A strong wind rustled tree branches and blew leaves about her yard. The lights from neighboring houses began to flicker and go out, leaving the street in darkness. Her own house lights flickered and died, too.

There was a knock on her door.

Marinette swore she could hear a voice whispering to her in the darkness.



Comfort//A Carlos de Vil Imagine

Anon said: Disney descendants imagine (Carlos X reader) where the reader is the daughter of Captain Hook and goes with the squad to Auradon and she has a nightmare about her father hurting her and Carlos comforts her and they confess their love for each other and they fall asleep together then the next morning the rest of the group finds them. Sorry for the exact details 😁😂

Yessss fics where they fall asleep with each other are the cutest things

WARNING: Abuse flashbacks


“I can’t believe they shoved us all in the same room,” you complained as you got under your covers.

“Can’t have the naughty children sleeping in a room with the good children,” Mal said.


“Hey, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah Evie.”

“Tomorrow, can I borrow your leather trench coat?”

You snorted. “How many times have you asked if you could borrow that?”


“And how many times have I said yes?”

Evie sighed. “None.”

“So what’s the answer gonna be this time?”


No, Evie.”

She huffed. “Well then.”

You laughed. “Night guys.”

You lay in your bed and drifted off to sleep, but what greeted you in your dreams was terrible.

Smee!” your father roared. “Where is my daughter?”

The man pulled the red cap off of his head and began to wring it. “Sh-she hasn’t been seen since this morning sir.”

“You let her off the ship?!”

“Not on purpose sir, she snuck off.”

“We will discuss this in the morning. Get out of my sight.”

The small man squeaked and ran off. Hook leaned against the railing, waiting for you to come back. When you did, he lit a lantern.


You froze. Oh no. “Hey dad.”

“You aren’t allowed to leave this ship,” he growled.

“Yeah but-”

“I don’t want to hear it. I have to punish you.”

Your pulse quickened. “No, please, I promise I won’t do it again. I swear.”

“I don’t believe you,” he sneered. He pulled out a wicked looking dagger. “You’re part of my crew. And my crew needs to take their punishments.”

You grit your teeth and braced yourself for the pain. He grabbed your arm and pushed up your sleeve, pressing the tip of the knife against your bicep. “What did you do wrong?”

“I disobeyed a direct order.”

He cut your arm. “Something’s missing.”

You winced and tears stung your eyes. “I disobeyed a direct order, Captain.”

He made another cut, deeper this time. “That’s right. But how many times have you snuck out this week?”

“None sir, I swear.”

He cut your other arm. “Do not lie to me.”


He cut you four times, one for each time you snuck out. And then four more times for each time you lied to him. And then he hit you in the stomach and slapped you across the face.

“Go to your cabin. I don’t want to see you.”

You walked to your cabin, bloodied and beaten, determined not to let the tears fall.

You sat up, panting and soaked with sweat. It was only a dream. He wasn’t here. Your father wasn’t here. You were safe.

You found yourself unable to breathe. Throwing off your covers and tugging on your boots, you were out the door, pulling your coat on over your oversized t-shirt and sweats.

You got to the gardens as quickly as you could and collapsed on a bench and began to cry.


You looked up. “H-hi Carlos. What’re you doing here?”

“Dude had to pee.”

“Oh.” You looked at your calloused hands and watched as tears fell from your eyes onto your hands.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You wiped your eyes. “um, nothing. Just nightmares.”

He sat next to you. “Your dad?”

You nodded. He sighed and pulled you into a hug. “He can’t get you here.”

“I know. But the nightmares come back anyway. God, I wish I had fought back. I’m so fucking weak.”

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your hand. “You are not weak. You are the strongest person I know. You survived years with him. You are so strong, and that’s one of the many, many reasons I love you.”

“You what?”

He sighed. “I was gonna wait to tell you, but now seemed like a good time. I’ve been in love with you since I met you, and I just…I want to kill Hook for what he’s done to you. No one deserves that.”

“I, um, wow.”

He looked at you nervously. He didn’t want to ask you to say something because he didn’t want to pressure you, but he wanted you to say something. Even if it was to say you didn’t love him back. He couldn’t take the silence.

You smiled an actual, genuine smile for the first time in what seemed like years. “I love you too,” you said.



He kissed you on the forehead. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

You nodded. “Yes please.”

He helped you up. “Jay’s out with the team for their away game, so he’s not here tonight.”

He led you back to their dorm.

He pulled off the covers and took your jacket off for you. His eyes fell on the scars on your shoulders and he gasped slightly. The coat fell from his hands and he gently grabbed you by the arm and spun you around, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

You pulled away from him and kissed him.

“What was that for?”

“For making me feel like someone cares about me.”

“Can I do it again?”

You nodded, smiling.

You broke apart and got into the bed. Carlos pulled you against him wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you close. “I love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you too.”

The next morning, the two of you were woken up when Mal slammed the door open. “Carlos, have you seen-”

She stared at the sight before her, slack jawed. “Evie!” she screamed. “I found her!”

Evie came running down the hall. “Oh. My. God. This is adorable.”

“What’s happening?” you said, sitting up, rubbing your eyes.

Carlos ran his hands through your hair. “They found us,” he mumble.

You groaned and buried your face in his chest. “But it was so nice and the bed is so warm,” you whined.

He kissed the top of your head. “I know, but we gotta get up.”

“Whyyyy,” you complained.

Evie snapped a picture of Carlos with his arms around you and your face resting on his shoulder. “Jay’s gonna love this,” she giggled.

“Send me that,” you said, your voice slightly muffled by Carlos.

“You got it. Mal, let’s go. We should leave them alone.”

Mal closed her mouth. “Right. Yes. Leave.” They both left and you and Carlos fell back on the bed.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“The answer to that question,” you said, curling up against him, “is always yes.”