and the way he just goes completely still

What’s Love Got to Do With it?

Your opinions are so interesting… So I ask you, what you think about Furuta’s love for Rize? What was revealed recently with Mutsuki makes me think they are same in a some way, I mean a twisted love and unhealthy obsession in a one-sided.
Asked by Anonymous

An interesting question posed to me in an ask that I’ve decided to turn into a full meta because I think the asker is missing that Furuta and Mutsuki are not the only ones with unrequited love this arc. Luckily I’ve drawn up a chart.

Why all of this unrequited love all of a sudden? Is it because Ishida wishes to write a Shoujo manga with corpses, and has decided to convert the last arc into one? It goes deeper than that, so let’s analyze it under the cut. 

Keep reading

meetmyinnerdemons  asked:

Hi, I wanted to ask you if you know any fanfictions about Johnlock texting/letters/internet messages, something connected with that? :)

Hi Lovely!

I thought I didn’t have many of these, so I was so excited that I would be able to get this done in 10 minutes… it’s now 4 hours later and I finally got a rough list done for you and I STILL can’t find the one I wanted to add to this list! I’m so angry, because I THOUGHT it was an FFNet fic, but i can’t find it urg. Oh well. I hope you like what I have picked for you instead!


  • Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2799 w, Ao3) - John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can’t find words big enough to thank her for saving John’s life at the warehouse. For afters, there’s a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of Unkissed
  • Happy anniversary by Salambo06 (E, 3772 w., Ao3) - John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him. Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear.
  • A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w. Ao3) - John sank deeper into the pillows, let the mist and blur of the wine settle around him, let it shore up his nerves and dim the warning signals that flashed dully in the back of his mind. He let the rest of the disappointment about Lucy and his strange accommodations and about the weekend as a whole fade into obscurity. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes. **MUST READ**
  • Come Home by hudders-and-hiddles(E, 3763, Ao3) -  When John leaves for a medical conference, Sherlock tries to entice him back home.
  • A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb  (E, 32,690, Ao3) John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX **MUST READ**
  • The Real Meaning of Idioms by feverishsea (T, 21,691 w., Ao3) - After two weeks away, John finally texts Sherlock. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to respond. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to keep texting him. And he really doesn’t expect things to spiral out of control so rapidly.
  • Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8737 w., Ao3) - "I am not agitated. I’m just tired of it. The insinuations, the comments, that I have no… no interest in relationships, or sex.“ John and Sherlock muddle through a relationship. **FAVE!**
  • Entanglement by orphan_account (G, 3218 w., Ao3)On Christmas Eve, snow covers London, John visits Harry, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson untangle some knots. Lovely pining Sherlock fic. Love this one!
  • Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., Ao3)Throughout his life, Sherlock Holmes has always taken facts and held them close like treasures, because in a world of complex emotions, unpredictability, and the unknown, logic has never failed him. Puzzles can always be solved and equations will always have an answer; he seeks and finds comfort in the steady absolution of facts and the knowledge that everything has a definition: an unchanging, consistent meaning. However, at age thirty-five he discovers the exception to all of his neat, tidy logic when he meets John Watson, the one person who evades definition and refuses to be easily categorized—and who makes Sherlock question his own previously unshakeable ideas about everything from life to love. (Apparently a WiP, but it feel complete enough, as the “last chapter” has been waiting for over 2 years)
  • Tease You Till You Come by phoenix089 (E, 6090 w., Ao3) - Initially, Sherlock was rather put out by John’s lack of presence on the case. But then he starts to recieve pictures, several of them, of an unexpected nature. The case is forgotten rather quickly after that.
  • Text Me When It’s Over by immaculately-flawed (K+, 1K+ w., FFnet) - After the fall Sherlock starts writing texts to John. Of course, he never sends them… Until he does by accident. Post Reichenbach fic but not angsty.
  • Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (K, 959 w., ffnet) - A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.
  • Message Not Sent by Queerasil (K, 762 w. ffnet) - Sherlock texts John after the fall and during the hiatus. The messages are sent, but never received. Sequel to WORDLOCKED, TSTM, and Wait, How Do You Play This Game Again?
  • Iunctum by Fudgyokra (K, 221 w., FFNet) - He stood still for a long time, staring not so much at the words he’d been sent, but at the signature that marked them: A simple ‘SH,’ neatly tucked at the close of the words ‘I’ve missed you.’” A 221B ficlet; Sherlock’s return from the fall.
  • The Art Of Communication by StillWaters1 (T, 2K+ w., FFNet) - Lestrade was used to getting odd, non sequitur texts from Sherlock. But when “John went out for milk” was followed by a terse “two hours ago,” Lestrade immediately understood three things: John was missing, Sherlock was quietly panicking, and this could all end very, very badly.


  • Letters by Jenna Flare (T, 2K+ w., FFNet) - John leaves letters on Sherlock’s grave as a method of coping. Sherlock reads them every week. Sherlock/John, John/Mary. T for swearing. Post-Reichenbach
  • Letters From Beyond by LittleBabeBlue (K, 637 w., FFNet) - A letter for John was found in Sherlock’s coat after he jumped. Post-Reichenbach.
  • Dear John by starwarsfreak95 (T, 601 w. FFNet) - Not all Dear John letters are bad. Sherlock tries to explain to John why he did what he did and how much John means to him.
  • Pen Pals by WerewolfDoctor (K, 2K w., FFNet) - Most people don’t become pen pals by one of them writing a not-suicide note. Then again, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have never exactly been normal, have they?
  • In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w., Ao3) - John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing…and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes… and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they’re both so very, very rubbish at talking.
  • There’s Something Living in These Lines by teahigh (orphan_account) - (M, 4676 w., Ao3) - Two men, complete opposites in almost every way, who speak only in letters and pages torn from books.
  • Correspondence by Cleo2010 (T, 8031 w., Ao3) – Sherlock’s been spirited away on a case for Mycroft. Part of the deal was that he and John could communicate via letter until the case was completed. Maybe the cliche is true, absence does make the heart grow fonder. Or perhaps something is growing on the feet in the fridge. Read their letters month by month. Written after series one.
  • White Blank Page by SarahCat1717 (M, 11,936 w., Ao3) – Post-fall, Sherlock is off eliminating Moriarty’s crime web. He finds he misses John. He can’t divulge that he still lives, but he placates his need to communicate with John and still feel a connection with him by sending him blank letters. But over time, this writing exercise lends itself to Sherlock exploring his feelings for his friend. What will happen when Sherlock returns to London and the man he has been “writing” to regularly for the past two years? NOT S3 compliant. Mary who?
  • Get It All in Writing by aceofhearts61 (T, 2423 w., Ao3) – Sherlock and John write each other love notes. Part 8 of A Love with No Name
  • and stand there at the edge of my affection by coloredink (G, 2683 w., Ao3)
  • Winter of Life by You_Light_The_Sky (T, 5178 w., Ao3) – It was an experiment, really. On Christmas, Sherlock wrote to Santa asking for a friend. He got a broken toy soldier instead. This is the story of how he finds him again and again.
  • Dear John by wendymarlowe (E, 3 Parts, 30,802 w. Ao3) – With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint: it turns out to be Sherlock.)


  • The Case of the Vanishing Blog by Hekateras (K+, 2K+ w., FFNet) - Sherlock is in it for the hunt. John is in it for the action. Even so, the events at the Pool leave a mark on both, unwilling as they are to admit it.
  • One-Way Mirror by StormyNight108 (K+, 830 w. FFNet) - Post-Reichenbach one-shot. It’s been months since the incident, where a man lost his best friend. Slowly but surely, John’s life is starting to turn up a little. That night, his blog is updated to share good news to his followers, and one anonymous commentator is quick to share his happiness. It’s about as close to his friend as he can get right now.
  • Don’t Go Without Me by MirabileLectu (T, 1K+ w. FFNet) - Deep in the recesses of the cluttered space under John’s bed, far from the prying eyes of nosy landladies, there is a box.
  • To Sleep, Perchance to Smother Your Flatmate with a Pillow by Linpatootie (G, 5308 w., Ao3) - Sherlock wants to conduct a sleep study of sorts. John contemplates smothering him with a pillow. Part 1 of Two Coffees One Black One with Sugar Please
  • Journal of Truths by Goddess_of_the_Night (T, 2317 w., Ao3) - When John escorts Sherlock back to Baker Street from the tarmac, he discovers a journal that Sherlock has kept secret…that he has kept secrets in. What he sees when he opens it is nothing like what he expected. He expected scrawling notes of observations, or maths equations, or drawings of plants…anything but what he actually finds: confessions.
  • You fit me, Sherlock Holmes by orphan_account (G, 10,077 w., Ao3) – An unfortunate series of events leads to John accepting being a part of Sherlock’s study in physical intimacy. As the days pass by, John realizes he might be in for more than he bargained for. He doesn’t entirely mind.
  • Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by cypress_tree (E, 10,669 w., Ao3) – John helps Sherlock with an experiment: for an entire month, they are not allowed to touch each other and must remain at least one metre apart at all times.
  • The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst (E, 58,611 w., Ao3) – John Watson thinks Sherlock Holmes should admit that he, Watson, is more of an expert on sex than Sherlock is. But Sherlock refuses to concede the point. He comes up with an experiment plan that will resolve the issue. The results will determine who wins the prize. But sometimes even the best thought-out scientific study has unexpected consequences.


  • I Believe In Sherlock Holmes by Cennis (K, 2+K w., FFNet)When John came to Baker Street one Sunday about six months after the funeral and found an elegant wooden cane, expensive-looking yet sturdy, stuffed away in the shoe cupboard, he began ‘blogging’ again. It began with post-it notes. POST-FALL.
  • In case of emergency by AlessNox (K, 520 w., FFNet) - Sherlock is charged with making a list of what supplies they would need in case of an emergency.
  • The Three-Word Tin Collection by TheBookshelfDweller (K, 1K+ w., FFNet) - What happens when Sherlock has to store the things he wants to say to John while deconstructing Moriarty’s web, but the Mind palace proves an inadequate place to store them?
  • 206 Reasons by whitchry9 (K+, 1K+, FFNet) - John won’t wake up, so Sherlock lists all the reasons why he should. Because he appears to be a bit besotted. How inconvenient.
  • Because Blah Blah Blah Happy by cwb (E, 4,578 w., Ao3) – John is entirely done with the milk situation and gives Sherlock a list of shit he’s pissed about. Sherlock sets out to make John happy. John is happy. Sherlock makes his own list. They are both very, very happy.
  • The Trouble With Being Subtle. by VictoryCandescence (NR, 5429 w., Ao3) - In which Sherlock experiments, John misinterprets, and everyone else stands back and waits for the light to turn on.
  • The Importance of Torn Papers by MyLittleCornerOfSherlock (G, 2427 w., Ao3) – Little things make a big difference, even little notes of thanks. Small reminders to show he cares.
  • Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., Ao3) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’, and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts’ now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.
  • See Recipe for Details by pandoras_chaos (E, 4,981, Ao3) – John knows Sherlock’s mouth will never water over the sweet smells of baking chocolate biscuits or a lovely roast chicken, but he’s watched Sherlock nick mince pies out of Mrs. Hudson’s fridge often enough to deduce that the man does have taste, albeit confusing and obscure.
    So John makes a list: Things Sherlock Likes

And I have a few on my Marked For Later List which also have this theme. I HAVE NOT READ THEM, so I don’t know what they are like; I was waiting for them to finish before I do. As well, Alexx has a tonne of lists you can check out too!

I just really love the idea of NHL Jack (AU where he never went to Samwell) taking a check into the glass way too hard during a game and the glass shatters and he goes completely through and is suddenly in the lap of our wonderful Southern Bell Eric Bittle
And Eric of course is just like “???????? are you ok????”
And Jack is just looking at him like “holy shit who are you and why have we never met”

But alternatively, I love Eric being like “!!!!!!AHHHHHH!!!!!” (Because when that shit happens in real hockey holy shit it gets fucking hype like 0 to 100 real fast) and just smiling and laughing and screaming
And Jack is still just in awe

You know, seeing that Toshinori was downright shivering when thinking of his training with Gran Torino back then, and adding the fact that Izuku a) heard from Gran Torino that he had beaten up All Might until he puked and b) has gotten kicked and beaten by Gran Torino during his training, too… it really wouldn’t have been that far off to think that Izuku, like Toshinori, would become completely scared of the old man.

But, nope:

Look at how happy Izuku is when he sees Gran Torino, even though the old man is already raging like the worried Grandpa he is. He isn’t perplexed or goes “Uh-oh, he’s gonna beat me up, yikes!” but instant is genuinely happy to see his teacher.

Even when he gets kicked in the face, he still apologizes weakly and smiles slightly instead of ducking or becoming scared.

I really like how Izuku just accepts the rather rough treatment as a part of Gran Torino’s way of showing that he cares, instead of misunderstanding it as cruelty.

Izuku sees right through your cranky act, you old softie.

(Though, I think, in reality, Toshinori does, too.)  

do you know what really fascinates me about monty’s character, aside from the fact that he really broke my heart in 4x08 and that he, by the end of the ep, managed to propel the story forward again with his absolute brilliant mind?

it’s the fact that he has hope.

it’s always been clear to me that he does, we have seen it on different occasions throughout the show and usually during very dark times, but 4x08 really brings it out in spades, in so many forms - from engaging in a really heavy conversation with harper to committing himself to a big and extremely dangerous mission or the very cool dynamic he is forming with none other than thelonious jaha, which essentially shows us how hard monty tries to make sure they find the bunker and his friends survive the radiation (especially them).

i mean, just think about it for a minute. we see that there is a lot weighing down on him - not just from a political stand point, but also emotional. he had the experience of coming eye to eye with the man who killed his father, has the knowledge that jasper (his best friend) was going to leave him alone (see: his suicide attempt in 4x01) and still doesn’t want to survive, risked his life to stop a war, and now is losing harper too, slowly. and yet, in all that mess and uncertainty he faces he still sticks close to hope. and thats so wild, because this is the boy who was okay with not being on the list, who told clarke that he would even agree with it. like, just check that situation from a complete character point of view: he goes out of his way to participate in every little thing, doesn’t sit still but tries to find new solutions, uses his brain to think and help.

and in 4x08 we have three such good stand-out moments.

when he tells harper that they will find a way out of this:

when he tells indra that they have to get the door open:

or when he tells jaha that he is going to stay with him to get the door open even though indra warns them about azgeda warriors moving closer

throughout the episode monty represents two things: a thinker and a fighter.

a fighter in the sense that he goes on a mission in a war zone in the first place, and thinker in the sense that he is able to connect the dots and find the key.

and it’s just. so much in my opinion? i love every bit of monty’s arc this season and i really did love what they did with him in this episode specifically. he is such a great focus character who doesn’t get overshadowed by others, but shines in his own way. i’m really overwhelmed lol, can you tell? he is my hero.

at the end of the day i just want him to take a power nap, get to share the burden with someone, and a real long hug from miller. please and thank you.

emotionalmorphine  asked:

Have I told you about Jesse's obsession with Hanzo's hair?! Like he will find himself just stroking it as they lie together in bed, watching it slide between his fingers like water. He is forever brushing that lock of hair out of Hanzo's face, pushing it behind his ear before he kisses him. In the shower he loves to wash it for Hanzo, hear Hanzo sigh in delight as Jesse massages his head. Then combs it out before they go to bed. He will wrap it around his fingers, breathe in the smell, smile.

yoooo I’m gonna address this ask with one I got earlier today which is quite similar and equally lovely!

“a mchanzo headcanon, if you are still accepting them: both Jesse and Hanzo secretly love having their hair petted/played with. Jesse will almost purr like a cat if you do it, while Hanzo just goes boneless.”

Hanzo never realised just how amazing it could be to have his hair played with. He’d always tied it back, utilitarian, out of the way, and frequently considered just getting it all cut off sometimes. It would be better for his work, but – and he would never admit this to anyone, he would rather die first – as it was, it completely fit with his aesthetic.

Aesthetic was incredibly important to Hanzo.

Jesse seemed to have a thing for his hair. Hanzo had frequently caught him admiring it, even before they got together, and once Jesse knew he could touch Hanzo however he wanted, all bets were off.

Sitting together in the carrier before and after missions, Jesse’s arm would be around his shoulders, his fingers playing idly with the ends of his hair. In the evenings when they were watching movies, Hanzo’s head on Jesse’s lap, Jesse would comb his fingers through it, separating out a lock and curling it around his finger over and over. It never failed to lull Hanzo to sleep.

In the shower, Hanzo was always quite willing to surrender the task of washing his hair to Jesse. He would close his eyes and lean back, the hot water hitting his chest, as Jesse’s strong fingers carded through his hair, massaging the conditioner in and enjoying the soft sighs of pleasure. Afterwards Jesse would comb it until it was almost dry, leaning in to rest his face against the soft mass and gently inhaling its scent. It relaxed Hanzo like nothing else, and if he woke during the night and couldn’t get back to sleep, all Jesse had to do was stroke his hair and he would be out like a light within minutes.

Jesse claimed not to be bothered by his own hair – he would run his fingers through it in lieu of combing it, but at least he washed it regularly. Hanzo enjoyed petting it, feeling the soft strands catch on his callused fingertips. He would never admit it, but Jesse hummed and purred like his cat, and Hanzo wouldn’t have been surprised to see him start kneading his hands on Hanzo’s leg, just like Tumbleweed did when Jesse gave him a brush.

In their later years, when the urge to have sex all the time had faded almost completely, they still derived great pleasure in playing with each other’s hair. Despite Jesse starting to thin on top and Hanzo’s hair becoming more coarse as it whitened, they could still be found curled up in the evenings, fingers tangled in each other’s hair.

Klangst Slave Au! Prompt

In which team Voltron is imprisoned by the Galras. They get marked p, some cool tattoo that represents slaves, and when they finally discovered a way of running away, Lance is badly injured and he purposely sacrifices himself to save the others. They don’t want to leave him but he goes suicidal and starts fighting Galra soldiers making time for them. They escape successfully, without Lance.

They think he is death, even so they try to fin him, unsuccessfully. Blue refuses to accept any new paladin, just Allura but she leaves it completely clear that she is just there because Lance is “dead”.

Sometime later in a saving mission they found Broken Lance! He was fighting to save other prisoners, never escaping himself. Also his appearance changed in some way, he was modified to become a Galra soldier, but failed. Leaving him different, broken, but still there is some part of him somewhere… they just need to save him, physically and mentally.

Since Keith is half Galra Lance is terrified of him, and if startled by him he attacks without thinking hurting Keith. Keith is in love with Lance, but never dared to say it. He suffered Lance’s lost.

Ice Queen and Cake - Jason Todd Imagine

Woo! Lord its been a while, I apologize for that! 

This imagine was requested here.

I hope everyone enjoys! 

~Mod Jaybird 

Warnings: Slight swearing

Word Count: 1,808 (Boy howdy is this a long one)

“Y/N! Come on babe we’re gunna be late! Bruce’s cake won’t make itself and Alfred’s already texted twice!”

“Gotcha,” you mumble as you extinguish a small flame from your hand, and climb out of the lower cupboard where you keep all of your baking supplies. “I’m coming don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You walk down the hallway from the kitchen and stop by the door to grab your jacket.

“What were you doing in there anyway? Sounded like an avalanche at one point,” Jason said as he held the front door open.

“My offset spatula fell out of my decorating bag and into the black depths of the cupboard,” You say as you walk through the threshold. “I had to go on a lifesaving mission.”

“Well it looks like it was successful.”



You head through the garage door and into the kitchen of Wayne Manor, stopping to place your decorating bag on the table and shed your coat.

“Miss Y/N, Master Jason. Glad to see you could join us!”

“The Chef does not enjoy the sass coming from her sous, Pennyworth, but I think I can forgive you,” you say as you pull your hair into a ponytail while walking over to give him a playful kiss on the cheek. “Jason, I love you, but get out of my kitchen, I have a masterpiece in the making.”

“Yes, Chef!” He said with a mock salute and a laugh. “I’ll go see what everyone else is up to.”

“All right Al, this double chocolate, Oreo truffle cake isn’t going to make itself. You start with the Oreos and I’ll start on the batter.”

“Oui, Chef,” the butler says with a smile.

You shake your head and sigh in response.

After a while of prepping and chatting with Alfred, Damian walks through the door.

“Hey Dami, whatcha up to?”

“Hello, Y/N. Todd and Drake are being insufferable so I decided to take a break up here, if it’s no bother to you.”  

“Go right ahead. You’re no bother to me and Alfred.”

The timer for the oven dings, and without a thought you reach in and take the pans straight from the oven.

“Y/N, did you just take those from the oven without mitts?”

You have a moment of enteral panic. Damn Y/N you really should be more careful with your powers around here.  “What? Uh…yeah I did, it’s not really I problem, I’ve burned myself so much over the past few years, it’s kind of like I’m immune,” you say with a chuckle, hopefully passing off the lie.

Damian gives you a look but lets the comment slide.

What you fail to notice is that he’s now watching you subtly from behind his book.

You come back to the cakes and slowly place your hand over the top of each one, using your powers to cool them down at a faster rate. The temperature of the air around you has gotten a bit chilly as a result of using your power so your breath comes out as a puff of fog. You glance quickly over to Damian to see if he noticed anything. He looks to be still engrossed in his book, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hey Alfred do we have anymore sugar? I need just a touch more of the ganache.”

“Try the pantry Miss Y/N”

You head into the small room and begin to look around. While you’re doing this Damian raises from his seat and quickly makes his way to the cakes. His eye goes wide when he feels that they are completely cool even though they came out of the oven moments ago.  

You make your way out of the pantry as he begins to sit back down. You notice the look on his face, as if wheels are turning in his mind, you guess he must have read something intriguing in his book.

You head back to the counter to begin the final steps of the cake, being careful to not use any more of your powers during the process.

The cake was finally finished as you placed the last truffle on top. You take a step back and look at the masterpiece.

“Done,” you say wiping your hands on a dish rag.

“It looks fabulous Miss Y/N, I shall gather the troops into the living room and we’ll begin the celebration.”

“Okey dokey Al. I’ll start bringing everything in.”

You grab the plates, stick them under your arm and grab the cake stand. Right after you set everything down on the table, the boys enter the living room from wherever they were.

“Wow, Y/N, that looks amazing!” Dick said with a whistle.

“Thanks Dick! It was an idea I got from a friend with a few tweaks. It’s Bruce’s favorite, my double chocolate cake recipe filled with chocolate cookies and cream buttercream, covered in a chocolate ganache and decorated with cookies and cream buttercream florets and Oreo Truffles.”

“In other words…heart attack and clogged arteries with a side of diabetic coma,” Tim said with a smirk.

“Yupp,” you replied, popping the p at the end.

“It’s a special occasion,” Bruce said. “So a little sugar won’t hurt. Thank you, Y/N” He walked over and gave you a side hug with a thank you kiss to the temple. “I’m sure it’s wonderful as always.”

“Well. I think we should cut into this sucker. I want cake.”

“Hold your horses, Jay,” you said with a huff. You reach down to pass out the plates and realize that something was missing.

“Darn it, I forgot the forks. I’ll be right back.”

You head into the kitchen and grab the stack along with some napkins.

As you head out the door something feels off in the air around you, and then you place it. You feel the batarang make waves through the air as it soars toward your head. Instantly the cutlery in your hands falls to the floor and your instincts take over before you can stop them. A wall of ice erupts from your hands extending out in front of you successfully trapping the batarang a few inches from your face as well as the boy that launched the projectile at you.  

After a second you recover from what happened. “Well. Shit,” you sigh and head toward Damian. You stop about a foot away from his body. You take a breath and place your hands on the wall. As you begin to focus you can feel the heat starting to radiate out from your hands. The giant ice wall melts into a puddle that spans the ballroom.

You blow the patio doors open with a small push of your hands, and then begin to heat up the room so the water would turn to steam. As the last bits of fog dissipate through the door, you sigh and bend down to pick up the forks from the floor. When you come back up, you’re met with six stunned faces.

Jason is the first one to snap out of the stupefied gaze. “What in the ever-living hell was that, Y/N?” You could tell that he was getting slightly angry because his voice went a squeaky towards the end of his sentence.

“Um…. if you will hear me out for like five minutes this would be explained a lot better downstairs,” you say a nervous smile plastered on you face.

Bruce is the first one to speak, for some reason you feel like he already knows the story you’re about to tell. “By all means, then, Y/N. Lead the way.”


Once you reach the Batcomputer, you turn to face the boys and are met with another glaring silence. Those should really stop happening.

The chair turns and you start pulling up everything about your past life.

“The Elementalist? I remember her,” Dick said as he leaned against the chair. “Pretty sure she’s my age and worked with The Flash for a good chunk of time. She declined the invitation to join the Titans and the League, and then kinda fell off the grid.”

You sigh. “I didn’t fall off the grid, I left. I couldn’t take the life anymore, Barry started to get reckless and I knew nothing good would come of it. I wanted to start over. I left my day job as a geologist at STAR Labs and my night job as The Elementalist. I packed up, moved to Gotham, and went to pastry school. I always loved baking as a kid, so I tried it out.”

You get up out of the chair to look all the boys in the eye.

“Six months after I graduated I met Jason, six months after that I opened the bakery, and six months after than I found out about all this when he came through my window bleeding out at 3 in the morning. You guys are like my family, along with everyone in Central City. Just because I chose not to tell you about this doesn’t mean I lied about anything else.”

No one could meet your eyes after you finished speaking.

“Well…I’ll take that as a not so great sign. I’ll just be going, then. You don’t have to worry about anything. The secret is safe with me. Bye, guys.”

You turn and head to the stairs. Your foot lands on the bottom step when you feel a pressure on your wrist. You turn and almost slam you face into Jason’s. His hands move to grasp your face.

“I’m not going to lie, this is pretty crazy. And I’m only slightly-no-so-angry that you didn’t say anything, but that doesn’t mean I want you to leave. You’re my girlfriend and I love you whether you’re a Meta or not.”

He gave you a quick peck on the lips.

“Yeah, Y/N. You’re awesome and we don’t want you to leave either. You the next best computer person, besides me, of course,” Tim said with a chuckle. “I think its pretty cool that you can control all of the elements, it’s like Avatar, in real life!”

“I knew you were a cougar!” Dick said slapping you on the back as he walks up the stairs. “Let go eat some cake!”

The rest of the crew filed up the stairs, but Damian trailed behind. Jason gave you a look, and you motioned for him to head up the stairs.

After a few seconds the young boy spoke. “I apologize for acting odd to you today, Y/N. I just couldn’t shake a hunch that you were hiding something. I should have just asked instead of throwing projectiles.”

“You really should have, Dami. I would have had no problems telling you outright. But your apology is accepted. Let’s go eat some cake.”

“Very well,” he said as he began up the stairs. “I would like to request, if at all possible, that you not freeze me anymore. It was an uncomfortable experience.” 

You chuckle and rough up his hair as you pass by. “Only if you deserve it.”

Anon: “Ok if you think somebody with a severe impairment who can’t talk is able to be smart name somebody smart who can’t talk or do anything for themselves.”

Stephen Hawking is a physicist who has changed how we see space and how we theorize about black holes. 

Stephen has ALS. He first developed it in his early 20′s. He was supposed to die in 3 years, but has lived wayyyy way way longer.

He literally cannot speak with his mouth or do anything for himself. He uses a ventilator to breathe. He requires round the clock care for every physical need.

His computer responds to commands from a sensor on his glasses that register twitches in his cheek muscle. It means his communication is very slow and requires patience. He communicates with people close to him using facial gestures, like movements of his eyes, eyebrows and smiling or frowning. He expresses disapproval / annoyance by grinding his teeth.

Stephen is proof that one should never assume no intelligence or thought just because someone can’t speak or needs complete assistance. This goes for nonverbal autistic people and people with any sort of disability that affects their movement, cognition or how they speak.

Even someone in the end stages of Alzheimer’s disease are still “there” even if it’s not in a way we’re used to. They are a human being who deserves to be treated with love and respect so they can finish their lives feeling loved.

Anon tried to catch me. They caught themselves instead. ;)

If John had turned up instead of Mary, I can just picture how much better this season would have been:

1) John has already seen his sons as grown ups (okay, missing ten years is a big deal, but Mary has missed thirty +) so he would find it easier to adjust.

2) Him finding out what happened to his father.

3) Him supporting his sons and not going to the BMoL because they are shady af

4) Making sure that Sam is completely recovered after being tortured BMoL, he has never seen his son tortured so I can imagine that would be his reaction.

5) Finding out what has happened since he died (imagine his reaction to the God thing though)

6) Him finding out about the deal Mary made along with Sam (somehow) and his reaction to that.

7) The Winchester boys all hunting together. Of course, John still goes on separate hunts.

8) Him telling them how proud he is of them, but also reminding them that he never wanted them to grow up this way.

9) Just. John. Winchester.

10) Being super, giving hugs, crying, being John. 

fic; the rain peasants

standalone; pg-13; fluff; msr ust; missing scene/one bed for the rain king; Mulder and Scully discuss what it’d be like to control the weather.

A/N: My one bed fic! I Can’t Believe It’s Not PWP


“Do you mind the T.V.? I can turn it off.”

“No, I don’t mind. Just keep the volume low, please.”

“You got it.”

Whatever is playing, it’s benign, popular and impersonal – funny, aluminum isn’t his style. Maybe it’s for her benefit? Can’t really share a bed with your coworker and take the edge off with pornography, can you. But maybe Mulder likes sit-coms. Maybe he needs to be told when to laugh. His sense of humor is… growing on her. After six years. But who doesn’t need a little help now and then? Oh, christ. That’s pathetic. He huffs out a laugh beside her, perfectly in time with the tin-can-track, and she knows that at least she isn’t alone. 

“Mulder?” she asks quietly. He goes completely still, and it’s obvious why – there you go again, Scully, getting me alone in cramped quarters and asking me obscenely difficult questions. She does like catching him off guard. There’s something in the way he looks at her when she goes a little nuts – like an x-file, like a mind-melting, course-of-history-changing x-file, and there is something in being that adored. And feared. She enjoys the fear just as much.

However, this is different. This case bothers her, and it ain’t got nothing to do with hicks or being confused for Mulder’s little wife.

“What’s up, Mrs. Mulder?” Tight and nervous. Scully smiles into her pillow. He’s so rarely nervous.

“I’ve been thinking about the case.” 

“It’s about time you took your work seriously.”

“Shut up, Mulder.” She gives him a moment to stop the next asinine comment before it arrives and he manages, just barely. “Let’s say, for the sake of conversation, it is possible for one man to dictate the state of the atmosphere in his little corner of the world.” 

“Okay, Scully. I’ll say that.”

“What if it were you?” she asks. There’s no missing the sincerity in her voice. Mulder may deflect – maybe he’ll make a joke, make some kind of pass, make some kind of obscure reference to a man who really did control the weather, hundreds of years ago, a man who swapped rain for mead and sleet for wool – but it won’t be without guilt. She’s okay with letting him make that choice. “What would the weather be like if your emotions were controlling it?”

A beat passes: he’s considering. The bed sharing makes it more dangerous, but regardless of his response they will wake up spooning in the morning. That’s the way it always happens, and he always freaks out more than her. Had he offered to take the floor this time, though? No. Every other time, yes. But not tonight. 

“Right now?” he asks lowly. “Right now, or in general?”

He’s taking her seriously. It smarts that she’s so pleased. 

“Right now, first,” she decides. She needs to know how much he’s willing to share before she goes all in. 

“Right now… it’d be raining pizza,” he snickers to himself, and Scully loses a sliver of confidence in the both of them. 

“Well,” she replies easily, masking the hurt with her own brand of indifference. “I told you to eat before we got back to the court.” 

“We’ve evolved to stay up past eight p.m., Scully. Nocturnal, diurnal, it all means nothing in our little corner of the world. You forget people live like this.” Silence. “Scully?” She doesn’t reply. 

She’s putting all of her effort into finding some semblance of sleep – you purposefully withheld information from me about this case and now I’m going to have to defend it’s necessity to Kersh without mentioning you actually fucking believe people can make it rain with their mind – when his hand covers her shoulder, a cautious, piddling touch. They really are different in bed. He snatches it back like he’s been burned, but then he replaces it with purpose. 

“I’ll tell you both, Scully.” He tugs on her shoulder when she doesn’t respond. “Roll over. C’mon, Scully.” 

She’s pissed that he’s now somehow made this all seem like his idea, like he’s the one taking the leaps. She rolls over just to glare at him and his face melts into a soft smile at her withering look. 

“I sure am glad you’re not in control of the weather right now.” He pets her nose and lets his body relax in a position mirroring hers, while she fights the urge to bite him. They’re both slightly uncomfortable with the situation, noticeably so, and their hunched backs make them look like parentheses. 

“I’m not sure the cattle industry could take such a devastating financial hit,” she says caustically. His smile widens. It’s sleepy in the light of the television, and easy. Another rare version of Mulder. Sleepy and easy are never words she’d typically use to describe him. 

“Go on, then.” 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly lying about the pizza. I’m starving. I have tears in my eyes.”

“I have some granola bars,” she offers kindly. A shadow falls over his face. 

“The ones with the flax seeds? God, no.” Relaxing again, his voice turns contemplative, both dreamy and a little dismal.  “But in general? I can’t really tell you, Scully. I’d assume it’d be very much like the rest of me.”


“You could say that,” he says dryly, looking away from her. A moment of silence, then: “Sometimes I could probably upend whole towns.”

I don’t think you have it in you, Scully thinks. Her face remains impassive when he grows theatrical, too loud and too convinced of his own hilarity in the middle of the night. 

“I could lift roads from the ground, Scully. Municipal buildings would crumble – I’d have to work up to the state legislature. There would be ice, there would be rain …” he pauses. “Maybe not fire.”

Gently, “Because of your fear?”

“No, not that.” He shakes his head. “I’m just not very good at rebuilding from scratch.” Perhaps that was too personal, because he flippantly amends: “But who among us is? I don’t think we’re made for it.”

People create life every day – they have babies, build houses, tear down governments, hoist them back up. It’s a never-ending cycle of starting anew; controlled burns are a way of life. But Scully recognizes that might be too literal an answer to what he’s suggesting.

He shoots a look at her, but she’s shifted on her back to stare at the television. The middle-aged white male lead is drinking a beer.

“But who knows how long that would last? Years, maybe minutes.” He turns and watches with her. A woman yells at her husband. Ha!Ha!Ha!

He continues while watching. “I guess that’s the frightening part. Most of us can just feel without inserting too much meaning into it all. But Holman Hardt spends each day in a hellish atmospheric vacuum of his own creation, cowering under the force of his own fragile emotional state.” 

“While other people are suffering,” Scully adds. “And he can’t do a thing to stop it.” 

Mulder lets out an amused rush of air. “We should become motivational life coaches. I’m feeling the power.” 

“You aren’t like that all the time,” Scully says, a little fiercely. He’s okay sometimes. He doesn’t hurt all the time. “You’re not always so… tumultuous. You’re fine right now.” 

They both turn to look at each other. “No,” he says. “I’m not like that all the time.” 

She’s quiet. He prods, “Okay, Scully, spill. What about you?”

“Right now, or in general?”

He repeats her words back to her. “Right now, first.” 

“I’m not sure my answers would be all that different,” she admits. This is what scares her. It’s not possible for one man to control the weather – and how very lucky they are that this is so – but if it were her… “Right now, or in general.” 

What little impact she’d have on the world. The realization depresses the hell out of her. What Mulder described: heart shaped ice cubes? Rose petals? Cows catapulting through court windows? Men cannot control the weather – human bodies cannot even withstand certain atmospheric pressures, let alone bend them to their will – but… where’s her creativity? When did she start feeling this way: not at all?

“That… does not seem right,” Mulder says. He’s itching to prove her wrong already.

“There have been some–” Scully pauses to choose her words carefully. “Difficult. There have been some difficult moments in the last few years of my life.” Mulder snorts derisively, more at himself than at her. “In all of the years of my life, Mulder, just like anyone else.” 

She wonders what he imagines her like, dictating the weather with her moods. There are probably more cows. What kind of storm encapsulates the strength of her eye rolling? Damn, is it easy to make herself annoyed with Mulder when she tries. How could you think of me like that?

“What would it be like?” he asks softly, eyeing her with genuine interest. She’s almost embarrassed to tell him. In the face of Fox Mulder’s lifelong battle against emotional terrorism, she feels positively virginal. She stares at his nose pressed into his inner elbow. 

“It would be pleasant,” she says to it. She doesn’t feel the need for elaboration, but his lips twitch. 

“You always this good at small talk? How about this weather we’re having.” His joke is teasingly sweet. It’s different from before, somehow. 

“It’d be pleasant because I don’t think I could let it be anything else.” 

They’re quiet for a bit. Neither of them know what the weather’s like outside. It’s chilly in their room, in the way all motel rooms are chilly. 

“If anyone had the ability to control the weather, Scully,” he says to the television, “and I mean really, really control it, so that humanity would be better off for having it… it’d be you.”

In the bed in the dark in the light of the T.V. in the hick town where everyone sleeps at eight p.m. where it hasn’t rained in forever where no one has luck in love, Mulder moves a little closer to her. So that their shoulders touch, so that their backs are ramrod straight, so that Scully’s assertion at not being nervous about this becomes a bold-faced lie. 

anonymous asked:

Can you imagine a Sterek plot where Post S5, Stiles' fear of not being in touch with everyone comes true so he leaves Beacon Hills and somehow randomly STILL ends up finding Derek in Spain or some other European country (and then Isaac and Jackson randomly appear for shits and giggles).

Anon I want fics of this. I want so much post s5 or alt!s.5 Sterek, them reuniting, them keeping in touch the whole time Derek’s gone, them being apart and knowing that something’s missing but being oblivious idiots who don’t realize they’re desperate to just hear each others’ voices again…

My favorite headcanon (which you’ve probably all heard to death already) is that Derek is in Europe right now, establishing a new pack with Isaac, Jackson, and Cora. And while I like to think Stiles and Derek are still in touch while Stiles goes into senior year (and that Stiles would seek him out after graduation) I would love a fic where Stiles doesn’t know where Derek is at all and just runs into him in Europe after the McCall pack drifts apart.

Because Stiles had tried to keep them all together, alright? Had planned on the pack going to San Francisco together after graduation, on moving into the next great phase of his life with his little found family all around him. But piece by piece it had started breaking apart, the pack members getting accepted into separate schools, scholarships not coming through in some places, program offers they couldn’t refuse in others… and before Stiles knew it they were all going in different directions, and Stiles was left standing in their dust.

So he defers for a year (it’s not like he didn’t have plenty of his own offers, but he’d put all his focus into the pack and without it he’s really not sure what direction he wants to head in) and decides he might as well be a complete cliche and go backpacking while he figures things out.

He makes his way through France and his mind touches on Isaac more than once, but then what would he even say if he got in contact with the guy? “Hey, we never really got along all that well and the last time we hung out my demonic alter ego had just killed your girlfriend and you fled town over it, but you want to grab a drink or something?”

He doesn’t contact Isaac.

The thing is, though, he starts hearing rumors halfway through Germany, just little things here and there when he touches base with whatever supernatural community happens to be in a given area. (Apparently his “spark” gives off a certain aura that many of the more old-world practitioners can feel just by being close to him – he’s encountered more than one baffled wizard who just can’t believe he’s never had proper training with a spark this strong.)

The rumors vary from place to place, but they all have to do with a wolf pack, new (or very old?) and formidable for its size. Apparently they’re notable because their alpha isn’t even really an alpha – which makes Stiles smile, think of Scott back at the beginning – because they appeared seemingly out of nowhere in a place where ancient bloodlines are everything. Because (from what the obviously exaggerated rumors are saying) the area around London had been practically a Hellmouth of dark supernatural energy for years, that no sensible practitioner had dared live there for generations before the new pack arrived to take control of the land.

(He spits his drink out, laughing, at the thought of Jackson creating a Hellmouth-battling superpack, Accidentally offends the group of gnomes he’d been sharing a drink with, and forgets the rumors when his attention turns to getting out of there fast and alive.)

He’s traveling north through Wales when he first hears the name Hale. It stops him cold, leaves him shivery with a feeling he’s spent too long swallowing down to really recognize.

The new pack claimed the old Hale land.

He doesn’t let himself think too much about it. The Hale pack had moved from England decades ago, it makes sense for some new pack to claim the vacated land. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

But he’s heading straight toward London after that. He thinks maybe he has been for a long time, without really realizing it.

He’s not sure what he was expecting when he gets to London, but whatever it is, he doesn’t find it. There are no big, glowing arrows pointing toward this new pack’s headquarters. No mentions in the newspaper that might broadcast their existence, and everything he hears about them from the magical community is frustratingly second-hand and even more frustratingly unhelpful.

An offhand mention of a dark haired girl saving some people from what sounds like a wendigo. Something about a blond boy – tall and so very sweet – with the scent of a wolf, enrolled in a local college. (Something pings in Stiles’ brain and he earns some very strange looks when he asks if the boy had been wearing a scarf.)

Any outright questions about where the new pack lives, or where the old Hale territory had been, are met with closed-mouth suspicion. A strange human sweeping into town, asking around about a wolf pack? Stiles guesses it probably looks pretty suspicious. And as frustrating as it is, he can’t help but be a little bit pleased to see the supernatural community protecting their own.

He’s not really surprised when Derek finds him at an out of the way pub one night, just slipping onto the barstool next to him and saying “I figured it was you.”

When Stiles looks up he looks just like the image Stiles has been holding onto for all these months: soft beard and sharp features, predator’s eyes that somehow make Stiles feel safe and not scared. He’s not dressed in a leather jacket but it’s still the tail end of summer, so Stiles gives him a pass there.

He looks completely different too, shoulders relaxed in a way Stiles hadn’t known he was physically capable of, his lips curling into a soft smile that seems almost happy. Like sitting here next to Stiles is all Derek could have wanted out of this night.

He lifts his brows questioningly, and Derek goes on:

“Been hearing a lot of rumors about a loud-mouthed American with a spark, running around asking about the Hales.”

And Stiles laughs, feeling strangely free for the first time in ages. Feeling like he’s had a hook dragging in his chest for months now, for over a year, maybe. Pulling at him, leaving him constantly restless in a way he hadn’t even noticed until now. Until he saw Derek sliding onto the stool next to him.

And he realized what he’s been looking for this whole time.

I Love You


Pairing: Mac x Reader

Summary: Saying I love you to each other for the first time

Side Note: I hope to the anon who requested this, that I haven’t let you down with the idea you sent in for this imagine. Thank you for the idea and I really hope you enjoy reading it. x

You felt relief turning the door knob and walking into the fruity scented apartment. Placing all your work related documents down, the allure of a hot shower was becoming increasingly harder to resist. Taking off the clothes that had been sticking to your body for the last 24 hours, you welcomed the soothing feel of the warm water.

By the time you gained enough will power to leave the shower, the clock on your phone displayed 7:10pm, meaning that you had been basking in the hot water for at least 30 minutes. Shivering as cold air came in contact with your body, you found the nearest towel and quickly begun to change. Now with a fresh set of lingerie underneath your nightgown you felt relaxed and content after a hectic day at work.

Walking into the bedroom you didn’t expect Mac to be home yet, but there he was spreading the last of the rose petals from his hands onto the floor.

“What’s all this?”.

Mac beamed, but a hint of nervousness was evident in the way he was playing with his hands. “I just wanted to do something romantic for my girlfriend”.

“Job well done. This is beautiful, Mac".

You were searching through your mind trying to remember if you missed an anniversary, birthday or any other special occasion. But nothing came to mind. While you were deep in thought Mac’s hand slipped in yours.

“I do have a reason for doing this, I just wanted to get the mood right first”. Mac paused, making it impossible for your heart not to beat like a drum against your chest. It was way too early for Mac to proposal. “I promised myself I’d keep this short and simple, so here goes”. He drew a breath, held it for a couple seconds before exhaling. “I love you, Y/N”.

You completely forgot that Mac was still waiting for a reply, you were too adsorbed in repeating the words over and over in your head. “Oh, god. You don’t feel the same…”. Breaking out of your trance, Mac continued to panic, mumbling oh god.

Closing the gap that separated you both. “Mac, shut up for a second”. He did as he was told, the worry still left in his eyes. “I love you too”.

The two of you were now sitting on the couch, basking in each other’s embrace. Mac pulled you onto his lap causing part of the night gown to slide up. You weren’t concerned much about it, all your focus remained on Mac.

“Say it again”, you whispered as your forehead touched his.

Mac’s hand trailed up your skin that had been exposed by the nightgown, his touch feeling light, just like a feather. “I love you”. Kissing your lips ever so softly, “I love you”. He repeated.

Fiddling with the two top buttons of his shirt, his eyes firmly on you. “I don’t think I’ve ever get tired of hearing you say those 3 words, or get tired of saying them to you”.

“I hope not, because I’m going to say them to you everyday”.

“You say that now, but wait another 5 or so years”. You joked, but Mac didn’t laugh. Instead he secured an arm around you, his other resting comfortably on your thigh. “That’s not going to happen, Y/N. And I’ll prove that to you everyday for the rest of my life”.

Nothing, not even an intrusive phone call from Jack or the Phoenix could ruin this perfect picture moment. The first I love you was one of the huge milestones in an relationship. You and Mac had now reached it after a year of being together.

Throwing a leg over to the side so now you were straddling Mac, you unbuttoned his shirt, placing light kisses along his jaw and neck. He reached for your nightgown and untied the material. Letting the gown fall off your shoulders, revealing a black lingerie two piece underneath.

Mac carried you to the bedroom. Setting you down on the rose covered bed. The room was dimmed, the candles flickered and Mac kissed from the hem of your underwear all the way to your lips, locking in a heated make out session.

“Want me to say it again?”.

You nodded, biting the corner of your lip as Mac’s fingers ran themselves over the thin material of underwear. Slightly arching your back as you felt his wet lips come in contact with your neck, nibbling the skin. Having no doubt that a blue, purple bruise would appear in the morning as a reminder of this romantic night.

Mac’s hot breath tickled your ear, “”.

And those were the only words, apart from each other’s names that were uttered that night.


↳ Day 4: Favorite Human » Hyakuya Yuuichirou

“I… Um… This is kinda embarrassing, but… Well… Guren said we’re family now, right? So you, Yoichi, Kimizuki, and Mitsuba… We’re all a new family. And I’ve started to feel that’s true. You guys are important to me. But… I can’t forget Mika. He’s also an important family member. See… My parents abandoned me. So maybe I don’t really know how families work. But can I ask you guys this? Just because someone in your family betrays you, does that mean you have to betray them back? I don’t… think it works that way. So even if Guren betrays us… and Mika, well… even if he is a vampire now… he’s still family. We’re all still family, and we always will be.”

Best Friend Series; Woozi/Jihoon

- you met jihoon in high school and you’ve been best friends ever since
- you already knew about him but you never talked to him
- jihoon was known as that gifted kid like he gets straight a’s and wins all the awards in almost every category because he’s super hard-working and a perfectionist
- everyone’s intimidated by him because all he does is work and since he hardly talks people get the wrong impression and label him as cold and snobby
- one day you were looking for a quiet place to study after classes
- the library’s full and your house is loud and like a bunch of classrooms are occupied for club meetings and stuff like that
- you give up searching in that building because it’s always filled with people so you’re like i’ll just go to the other building then it’s a long walk but wtvr as long as you get studying done right
- when you reach that building you’re twisting every doorknob to see if any aren’t locked when you hear BEAUTIFUL piano playing and you’re like??? who’s playing that???
- you follow the sound of the piano and find yourself standing in front of a door left ajar and when you peek inside you see JIHOON PLAYING THE PIANO
- you’re like HOLY CRAP HE’S AMAZING!!! and you’re listening in but somehow you lose your balance and fall forward and the door swings wide open
- jihoon stops playing and looks down at you who’s on the floor and you’re looking at him too and it’s just quiet
- but then you scramble to your feet and start clapping and you pretend that you never fell in the first place
- then you’re like “you play the piano so beautifully!!!! you’re really talented!!” and jihoon just blinks and says nothing and you’re like omfg i shouldn’t have said anything it’s over now he thinks i’m a creep
- but then he smiles and says “……thank you” but then he goes serious again and says “how did you find this place?”
- and you’re like “i was looking for a place to study because everywhere else was fully occupied…. and then i heard you play and followed the sound. you’re really good. what song is it??”
- and jihoon just says quietly “…i made it.”
- you’re like NO WAY YOU COMPOSED THAT BEAUTIFUL SONG??? and he just nods
- he says “i call it adore u. no one ever goes in this part of the building so i just go here to practice. i only have the first verse and chorus down though, i’m still trying to complete the song”
- you compliment him a few more times and then sigh when you look at the time “anyways good luck with practice i have to go look for a place to study now”
- before you go exit the door jihoon says “wait” and you stop to look at him and he says “you can study here…… i hope you don’t mind me playing piano in the background though”
- and you just smile and go like “oh thank you!! and i don’t mind i listen to piano covers while studying anyway it isn’t any different”
- when it’s time to go you and jihoon say goodbye to each other and you’re like…… he’s not as bad as people say
- the next day you go back to the piano room and you grin when you see jihoon there
- you say hi and start studying while jihoon continues to practice his song and tries to come up with the beat for the second verse and bridge
- you guys meet up there every day and eventually become BEST FRIENDS WHOO
- jihoon used to eat lunch alone but now you would sit next to him with your friends seungcheol, jeonghan and the famous booseoksoon trio and you’re happy to see that he’s slowly coming out of his shell
- since jihoon’s a straight-a student he doesn’t mind tutoring you in things you don’t understand
- he’s scary when he’s angry so when he is you know to stay away from him
- when you make fun of his height, he silently sabotages you
- like you’ll tell him “holy crap my textbook was missing a page so i couldn’t finish the class exercise in time!! seungkwan scanned it for me but now i have to finish it as hw ughhh i have so much to do already”
- and jihoon just says “oh…. i wonder why you don’t have that page….”
- cringes at every lame joke you tell him
- but sometimes you actually do manage to make him laugh and he gets so angry
- “laughing hurts my pride”
- when he’s really stressed, he takes it out on you sometimes and it makes you sad
- but then he feels really bad about it afterwards and treats you out to lunch or buys you something
- you do lots of aegyo just to see his reactions and he either walks away or cringes really bad
- remembers every single one of your achievements, and unfortunately every single embarrassing thing you’ve done
- “hey remember when you did—” “I DON’T WANT TO REMEMBER THANKS”
- honest and never sugar-coats anything
- “why would you do that are you stupid???” “thanks jihoon that’s exactly what i wanted to hear”
- he only gives genuine smiles to you and all your classmates are like holy crap how did you do that???
- jihoon teaches you how play the piano and you get so excited
- but then you learn he also knows how to play the guitar and drums and 17394 other instruments and you’re like just wow
- you guys share your favorite songs and artists and you guys sing along to them together and that’s when you find out about HIS VOICE
- he always studies and works until like 3am and you scold him for it because JIHOON YOU HAVE TO GET ENOUGH SLEEP OK
- always buys things for you but never for himself
- like it’d be extremely cold and your ears are freezing and his are too but he’d only buy earmuffs for you
- so in return, you buy him a bunch of random things and he pretends he doesn’t like them but when you meet up with him after school to hang out he’s wearing the wristband you got him and you tease him about it
- he never wears mittens in the winter and you’re like “jihoon i will break your fingers YOU PLAY INSTRUMENTS YOU HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR HANDS”
- and he sassily replies back “if you break my fingers i won’t be able to play either” and you’re like “YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN”
- you buy him coffee whenever he’s feeling down or stressed
- you make an extra lunch for him because sometimes he skips it to study or practice piano
- you ask him how it is and he replies “it’s edible” but he always finishes the whole thing (basically HE LOVED IT AND IT WAS DELICIOUS)
- he may not show it often but jihoon really is glad you’re in his life
- he can’t say it to your face because he gets really embarrassed
- but once when you slept over at his house, you were trying to fall asleep and jihoon, who thought you were already asleep, says “i’m glad i met you, (name). i adore u.”
- and of course you laughed and jihoon couldn’t face you for three days
- finally finishes composing adore u and performs an acoustic version of it on your birthday
- “oh shut up”

it’s headcanon time bitches, buckle up:

fortunately, Neil Josten doesn’t get sick often. but it still happens, from time to time, and when he does it’s absolutely frightening. he doesn’t pretend everything’s fine, not really, not the way everyone expects him to. he doesn’t even barricate himself up in his room and “waits for death to take him”, like Nicky. he doesn’t get bitchy like Kevin, or irritating like Aaron, or disappears like Andrew. He just shuts down, completely. He’s still up, he still practices. But he’s not present. He just goes through the motions, sometimes he doesn’t talk for days. He just boards himself up in his own mind, too focused on being fine to do much at all, not even focusing on the outside world. When he does get sick, it’s always bad, like some sort of retribution for always escaping seasonal colds and the occasional flu. When he does, sometimes his thoughts get tangled up, and he forgets. He forgets his mother is not there to beat him up if he’s anything other than fine. He forgets he doesn’t have to be vigilant 24/7, because his father could find him. He forgets he’s not alone, and has to do everything on his own. He forgets, he forgets, and sometimes not even Andrew knows what to do.

tempo, pulse, repeat

@i-homeostasis mentioned something about an unofficial AsaNoya weekend and since writing is about the only thing I do these days have a thing :D

Yuu isn’t entirely sure if he’s hallucinating.  It’s been a long week of rehearsals and solo practices and far too many hours spent pacing in his small dorm room.  He scrubs his face, presses his closed eyes until stars burst behind his lids and even tugs at his hair a little, and remembers he still needed to get it cut again before Saeko makes good on her threat to just shave it all off like Ryuu’s the next time he stops home, but when he opens his eyes he’s still seeing the same thing.

“Okay believe me when I say I never imagined saying this to you of all people, especially in this tone of voice, but, Asahi, where are your pants?”

The man in question goes completely still and then slowly drops his gaze down to his bare legs.

“I, uh, forgot them.”

Yuu can’t help the snort of disbelief that slips from him.  “You forgot your pants?”  

Asahi’s dorm room is just a floor below Yuu’s so it’s not a long trip but he finds it hard to believe that Asahi - who sometimes still gets embarrassed about wearing too loose of a tank top while exercising or having to change uniforms on the bus - made it out of his room without a key article of clothing on, let alone all the way up here.  Though to be fair at least he’s wearing boxers and not something more form fitting.  Not that anyone, least of all Yuu, would complain.

Asahi rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.  “Nanase was over again and I only needed to hear Oikawa’s voice raise half an octave through his bedroom door to decide it was time to leave.  I heard too much last week when they didn’t think I was in my room.  Way too much.”

The door across the hall opens and Yuu watches Kenma step out, spot Asahi, blink hard a few times, and then sigh as he locks his door before hurrying down the hallway.  Asahi stares resolutely at the floor until the door to the stairwell thuds shut and he meets Yuu’s gaze.

“Can I maybe come in?”

Yuu startles and ushers Asahi inside.  He had been too busy staring at the way the blush was creeping down Asahi’s cheeks to make the offer and he kicks himself for being so uncool about it all.

“I, uh, obviously don’t have anything that will fit you but I’m pretty sure Tachibana has something.”  He digs through a box of clothes he remembers his roommate talking about giving to another friend because he doesn’t wear them anymore and manages to find a worn pair of sweats that he tosses over to Asahi.  He tries - and fails - not to watch Asahi pull them on.  They’re old and worn but they’re a little small on Asahi and he has to do this intriguing little shimmy to get them to settle on his hips.

Asahi smiles gratefully and Yuu is a little in love.

anonymous asked:

Old Bot strikes back! How would Prime, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Smokescreen, and Raf react to Old Bot falling into recharge in the middle of a conversation (bonus points if they can tell, when Bot is actually asleep or just pretends to be to get out of the situation)?

Optimus Prime

- He had been speaking to you after a particularly rough mission. It was late at night when you had gotten back to base; the children were already sent back home and the others were quick to head off to bed. Optimus wanted to ask you about something that happened on the field that he noticed, likely something about your fighting style.

- You didn’t want to talk about anything from your past training, as your old aft would probably get emotional. So, you had the brilliant idea of pretending to fall asleep.

- Your optics fluttered, half-lidded as you listened to Optimus speak. You were leaning against a wall, head tilted to the side to give more of a “i’m tired” vibe.

- Optimus catches on, shaking his head and chuckling. He knows you’re faking; and he wants to respect your privacy if you’re not comfortable with talking about what went on in the mission. So, he dismissed you; with a hand on your shoulder and a smile sent your way.


- You had pulled several all-nighters already, in an attempt to help Ratchet decode some Decepticon files you had gathered from a mission a couple weeks ago.

- Of course, you’ve not informed Ratchet of this; all the information you’ve decoded has been thoroughly hidden from normal sight but will be visible when it’s needed. When it will be required, Ratchet won’t have the time or patience to actually ask who decoded it. 

- He was speaking to you about the files that have been locked, saying he might ask Rafael if he can assist; the brilliant child will probably have better luck than both of you combined. And while you do agree, you’re too tired to do so verbally; your optics fluttering as you calmly exvent. The medic didn’t seem to notice as you started to nod off.

- That is, until you nearly fall over.

- Then, he’s letting you lean your weight on him as he walks your tired aft to your berth. “You need to recharge. I don’t know what happened to make you so exhausted, and frankly I don’t want to know, but please.”

- You’re out the moment you’re on the berth. He stays there for a couple moments to make sure you’re alright, then goes back to his own room. Just by seeing you sleepy, he’s gotten sleepy too. Way to go you got grumpass to go rest for once.


- He tends to get boring when he talks about the same stories he’s told you over and over again. Wheeljack isn’t afraid to say he’s trying to impress you; you’re a complete and utter badass and he’s only hoping he’ll be like you at your age. 

- He’s got an arm around your shoulders as he talks avidly, meanwhile you’re slowly nodding off. His arm doesn’t move even as you end up falling asleep against him, still talking as if you were listening. 

- ‘Jackie eventually notices you’ve passed out, after around 5 kliks of not noticing. When he does, though, he does have enough shits to carry you back to your room. He may be an asshole, but he’s an asshole with a big heart.

- “Recharge good, oldie’.” 


- You fall asleep on purpose, 100%. 

- He was talking about something you, an old bot who is completely tired of his shit, do not understand/do not care about. So there you are, pretending to nod off as he goes on and on about whatever he’s so obsessed with.

- He only notices later on. Not knowing what to do, he leaves you alone, walking off to do whatever.

- Once sure he’s gone, you walk off with a smug look on your face. 

- He never finds out. You’re a terrible person.

Rafael Esquivel 

- You’re never bored by you and the humans’ conversations. They were either meaningful, intelligent, or… interesting in their own way. No matter which of the humans you were conversing with, they somehow managed to keep your attention with interesting stories from their lives or what they’re doing.

- Which is why you’re struggling with yourself to keep awake as Rafael animatedly talks to you, telling you excitedly about what he and Bumblebee had done that day.

- You had been overworking yourself to the extremes, taking up patrols and work from the others. You knew they’d have to be prepared for any upcoming battles; with the decepticons becoming more and more forceful, they could use all the rest they could get.

- But eventually, you couldn’t hold it back anymore, and slowly started to fall asleep.

- You were startled back, though, when Rafael said your name to get your attention.

- “Hey, [Name], maybe you should get some rest? I’ve never seen you more exhausted. I can wait to tell you what happened, so don’t worry.”

- You let out a tired sigh, and nod your head at the human as a thank you. “Alright. Thank you, Rafael.” Then, you turn and walk off; you could probably use the sleep anyway. 

#(PS: If you’re reading the tags Trevo: what about GrimmNel -if ya don’t mind me asking out of curiosity? I’m a lil’ confused about the pair)

I always read tags ;D

The substantially shorter answer of as to why I dig Grimmnel:

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