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

Some Stupid Falsettos Story

(This is real dumb but i need it out here in the open)

-whizzer literally can drink his weight in alcohol and suffer from no hangover whatsoever the next day hes a god

-this does not apply to marvin.

-trina gets a call from the police station at 1 in the morning asking if she knew these two men, they said they did and they’d been out far past an acceptable time in the park and it was dangerous

-trina drives all the way to the police station and sees Marvin and Whizzer, who upon seeing trina, start giggling like little kids at her face of pure disgust

-she throws them in the backseat, and hears whizzer stage whisper, “oooooooh….. Mom’s mad at usssssss….” and Marvins losing it,

-“i will throw you two out so fast” “yes mother”

-the car is relatively silent, trina turns to check on them at a red light, assuming theyve fallen asleep

-she just sighs upon seeing that no, theyve at some point just left the car and she didnt hear them somehow. Shes so tired.

-she backtracks and eventually finds them, walking down the street as if they werent JUST in Trina’s car. marvin’s starting to get fussy, and whizzer’s still laughing at everything for NO reason

-when whizzer sees trina pull up, he screams and goes “god no! Its the wicked witch of the west!” And marvin just completely loses it and its obvious whizzer is pleased with that by the smug look on his face

-at some point whizzer just has no pants on, theres no explanation and the pants are never found.

-trina checks on the two in the mirror the whole way home again, content with the fact theyve practically collapsed on each other, sleeping soundlessly. She almost thought it was sweet. Then she remembered it was whizzer and marvin and she did not think that anymore

-once at home, trina immediately leaves those two idiots to figure out sleeping arrangements themselves, and goes upstairs immediately to bed

-mendel only sleeptalks a question at her as she flops on the bed, asleep the second she feels mendels arm just kinda reach out to lay across her back

-jason walks downstairs that morning, and is elated to see whizzer!!!!

-whizzer, however, is passed out on the floor, practically on top of marvin, face squashed up against Marvin’s chest, and theres marvin, who is as equally asleep as whizzer

-jason takes his time and makes four cups of coffee, setting them down on the counter, a sticky note on each for each person, a little doodle to go along for them, and goes back upstairs

-whizzer wakes up first, the coffee is cold by now, but you kNOW he drinks it all and keeps the sticky note that says “whizzer” with a little chess piece drawn on it for his wallet

-marvin is DYING his head hurts so bad, and whizzer tells him a “family hangover cure” comprised of cinnamon, egg yolks, and baking powder

-marvin (being the fool he is) drinks this, almost pukes, and realizes too late that whizzer has played him for a fool.

- “thats what you get for letting me just lose my pants last night!!” “What????” They argue like this for a while obviously

-mendel greets the two with “oh, hello , people who do not live here!”

-cordelia and charlotte lose it when trina tells the two about what marvin and whizzer were like, and they assure trina that they will NEVER let them live that down

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

#20- Correcting each other’s technique (Sam x Eileen)

Requested anonymously for my kink list (master list here).

Warnings: smut, oral sex

Word Count: 1300ish

A/N: Still sailing the Saileen ship hard, y’all. Enjoy! XOXO

Sam is good at sex.

Maybe it sounds arrogant. Maybe it sounds like exactly what every douchebag guy who isn’t good at sex thinks about himself.

But it’s true. It’s true, simply because Sam wants to be good at sex. He listens to his partners, takes the five minutes it takes to learn what they like and what they want, and then focuses solely on showing them a good time. And they always come first, usually more than once.

It’s a point of pride, really. Which is why this time, Sam is nervous.

Keep reading

I couldnt get those HCs out of my head

I’ve been dying for someone to write a fanfic with a Saeran and V friendship as the main focus- and I’m like “I could put my 4+ years of writing experience to use and do it, but I need to work on my GPA this year, shit”

So here are some HCs because I canNOT stop thinking about this AU

-ok so basically, instead of being mum about it, V works up the power to tell everyone about Saeran while he’s suffering from the after effects of the drug. MC and Vanderwood stay to look after V and Saeyoung fuckin naruto runs out of there to save Saeran

-And obviously after the entire ordeal is over we have two severly mentally ill and traumatised people who need help asap (three if we count Rika I guess? but that’s not the focus of this post)

- And like. Bear with me. Imagine this. They both take therapy sessions at the same hospital/clinic, so they have to spend time in the waiting room together

-At first it would be super hard and awkward for them and to some extent even painful and triggering to be in the same room as one another.

-It would probably be months after the RFA party at this point, when V and Saeran first get the chance to talk to each other alone. Saeran is very quiet and withdrawn and doesn’t make eye contact; he hasn’t forgotten what he’s done to V back in Mint Eye, and just being in the same room as him makes him consumed with guilt.

- V apppears calm on the outside but he’s silently repeating the phrases his therapist told him to remember over and over in his head and going over one of the breathing excercises.

- Neither of them actually speaks ever when they’re in the waiting room waiting for MC and Saeyoung to pick them up but one day, Saeran drops the ice cream cup he’d been holding because his hands are shaking. His eyes would probably widen and he’d feel panic start to nearly overwhelm him.

-He’s just about to pick it up again and have a mini episode of self deprecation for the 3rd time that day when V gently picks up a towel that the cleaning lady forgot on the glass table and cleans the mess.

- Saeran just sits there; frozen. He wants to tell V not to do that- that he’ll fix it himself, that it was his fault, and so on, but he can’t find the voice within him.

-V finally finishes. He picks up the now empty container and throws it in the trash, and then puts the towell back in its place . He’s quiet while he does this, but noticeably not as tense as before.

- “So you like ice cream? I can’t help but notice you have a cup from the clinic’s cafeteria after every session or so.” He finally says and breaks the silence. It was spoken so quietly that Saeran almost didn’t hear.

-I’m imagining him trying to speak several times and failing to process the words. “I… I do,” he manages to choke out. “ it.”

-V nods quietly and returns to his seat. Neither of them says a word. Saeran becomes less tense, but he still won’t meet his eyes. It’s ultimately a major relief when MC finally returns with Saeyoung.

- However, from this point on, it’s not uncommon for them to share a word after they finish their sessions (and they often do at the same time).

-V would usually intiate conversation first and Saeran really doesn’t understand why, but he goes along with it

- it’s just mindless small talk like “How was your session?” “How are your breathing excercises?” et cetera

- they still sit like four seats apart but now small talk is easy and it’s even somewhat something they’d look forward to

-When V’s therapist tells him that she thinks it’s time for him to start painting a little, Saeran is the first person he tells. Saeran doesn’t understand why V would tell him but he seems to content and happy that he’s getting somewhere and Saeran does his best to make “ah, congrats” sound supportive because he really is glad that v is getting better

- after one particularly bad day with his therapist, Saeran’s more withdrawn that usual. V can see his hands shake. He doesn’t have a cup of ice cream today either.

-V goes to the small cafeteria they have on the secons floor of the hospital and buys a chocolate chip mint eye cream and a vanilla.

-He sets the mint and chocolate chip ice cream in front of saeran and takes his own with him before returning to his seat. Saeran looks up at him tentatively, eyes furrowing in confusion.


-V stays silent for a while. “It makes you happy,” he replies quietly. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good day.”

-by the time Saeran reaches for the ice cream, it’s half melted. But he takes it anyway, and V can’t help but notice that he might be crying a little

- things just get progressively easier for them. by now it’s routine for v to always get saeran and himself a cup of ice cream after therapy when saeran forgets his money. The small talk continues, but it flows less awkwardly now

-once v brings his first completed painting in a decade with him to show to his therapist because she asked him to. Except while he’s there, another person in the waiting room recognised him as “the famous photographer” and started gushing over his pictures and how they were a big fan and how they couldn’t wait for his next gallery, when was it going to be?

-Basically V almost has a panic attack because he’s trying his best to distance himself from that, and he tries to apologise and explain, but the fan wouldn’t back off until Saeran stood in between them and very gently, very quietly asks them to please leave V alone or he’d call over staff

- they’re shocked for a second, but their eyebrows twist into a soft frown and they leave.

-V casts a side glance at Saeran, eyes wide. His surprised look melts into gratitude and he thanks him.

-Saeran just flushes and mumbles something under his breath.

-V could have sworn he said, “I.. like your painting, by the way…”

-I can see them being reluctant and hesitant with getting too close. They still remember how much they hurt each other. Saeran still remembers what he did to V back then. It’s been unspokenly forgiven but not forgotten.

-And it’s hard to even half forget something like that. They might have forgiven each other, but not themselves.

-and I can just see their bond being really delicate and fragile, but also very firm.

-I have a lot of HCs I’m yet to put here. But I imagine the day V finished all his required therapy sessions (and I believe he finishes before Saeran), he’s overwhelmed with joy. He moves towards Saeran silently and opens his arms with visible reluctance. Saeran’s happy for him. He still has a long way to go, but he’s genuinely glad that V’s getting better. He quietly goes into his arms and they share a hug. It lasts for about three seconds; it’s not long or sweet, or completely comfortable and unawkward, but it carries emotion.

-I just… I want this so bad

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.)  

Before I begin, I can see the error of my ways about 75% but still 25% want to fight this customer, so here goes…

This lady is a semi-regular. She’s EXTREMELY particular about her standardized fast food, and always gets discounts on each plate she orders because she completes the surveys. So far I haven’t had a really bad experience with her, just felt that serving her was a little tedious….until this shift.

Lady’s son comes to buy an extra food item and asks for the smallest size. No big deal, his total comes out to $3.28. He pays with a $5, his change is $1.72, and I send him on his merry way.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see the lady coming back, and she approaches the register and asks for the largest size of the food item instead. Also not really a problem, I’ll just have to refund her for the first size. Note: our register only refunds EXACTLY what the customer paid for the item, no matter if they paid with a larger bill. I get her the larger size of the item and do the refund for $3.28, giving that amount of money back to her and taking back the $1.72 in change. To me, everything looks equal again.

Except apparently it isn’t. The lady is confused, wondering where her $5 bill is. I explain that the $3.28 came out of the $5, and the $1.72 change came out of my drawer, therefore the $5 bill is still here, just broken up. I explain this until I’m blue in the face to this lady that apparently doesn’t understand how subtraction works, and keeps yelling at me that I did the refund wrong, but the little demon made of stress and exhaustion within me wouldn’t let me give her back the $1.72 and risk a drawer shortage. Finally my manager appears to help us with the line and visibly shows her with the money that I had done everything correctly. She just huffs, uses the money my manager gave back to pay for her item, and leaves. Later my manager told me if they start getting pissy to just give them back all the money to show them like that, which is my error that I can see now.

Imagine being so entitled that you can argue with a cashier over $1.72.

let me take care of you for once

His voice is still hoarse, partly from the sickness and partly from the creeping sad lump in his throat because knows you’re right. He knows that he didn’t give you the easiest time when you first tried to enter his life. Because of all the things that Spencer Reid is, he is guarded.

Originally posted by visions-of-brighter-love

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Spencer’s startled jump and sharp gasp was well worth standing at the doorway and watching him climb out of bed slowly. He was moving slowly, knees shaking as he stood up and skin marked with an even layer of goosebumps. Off came his pajama pants, gingerly lifting his feet up one at a time and then pulling on the usual khakis and a sweater. He had shrugged on a coat when you had spoken up and had dropped the scarf he was holding in surprise.

“You know you really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” he scowled. “It’s not polite.”

You start laughing despite yourself. It’s a funny image, really: his cheeks are flushed a deep shade of red and his nose is running so that he has to sniffle every five seconds to avoid being a sniffling mess. He looks like a a sickly blob underneath the mountain of clothes and you stifle your laughter long enough to tell him as such. He just scowls instead, muttering expletives under his breath.

Smiling, you walk through the room towards him, stepping over the piled of used tissues and navigating through the mountains of books scattered across the floor to stand besides him. Your hands reach out for the scarf, gently taking to from his neck.

“Where are you going, Spencer?”

“The pharmacy called. My prescription’s ready.”

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(Spoilers for GotG 2)

You know what I really love about Kraglin? That he’s a soft, fiercely loyal and altogether nice guy under all that rough exterior, but despite that, he doesn’t take shit from anybody.

He’s the first one to greet Peter with a sarcastic “Welcome home” back in the first movie while pointing a weapon at the younger.

He’s right alongside Yondu, making a confused “WTF?” face when Rocket threatens to blow them up. No panic, no fear, just utter “Why the fuck is that rat-thingy aiming at us? Huh?

He’s the first one to grin and punch Drax’s shoulder when the other thinks Ronan’s army is laughable (and then regrets it immediately because Drax takes that seriously.)

He’s the one to help Rocket blow a hole into Ronan’s ship, all fierce joy about it when it works.

He’s the one to call Taserface out “Then why are you whispering?” when Taserface rages over Yondu getting soft – hinting that he’s still extremely loyal towards Yondu and doesn’t take it kindly when others talk shit about the Capt’n.

He calls out Yondu about Peter and that he always goes easy on the boy. Granted, he regrets it later, but it takes a whole lot of courage to point the Capt’n’s mistakes out, especially as a first mate, and even though Kraglin is so loyal, he is not blind to Yondu’s mistakes, and he says so, too.

He is not afraid of Nebula, even though he saw what she’s capable of, even goes as far as suggesting that he thought she would get a “nice necklace or hat” – which is hilarious when you think that it’s Nebula, why would she get a necklace – he goes as far as joking around her, doing funny faces and suggests such hilarious stuff to her, where everyone else is absolutely terrified of her.

He’s the one to help Groot get the fin to Yondu, showing up there even though Yondu could very well kill him for his earlier “treason” once he has the fin and the arrow back. He is ready to face punishment, but he stands there tall and says “I didn’t mean to, that’s not what I wanted”, but he doesn’t apologize for pointing out Yondu’s softness, because it’s true, and they both know it.

He follows Yondu on a frickin’ suicide mission to get Peter out, even though he earlier was angry about Yondu’s softness towards Peter, because he will follow his Capt’n anywhere (and honestly, I think he likes Peter, he’s just angry that the boy gets so many freedoms when the others don’t and fears that it will get Yondu into trouble one day – which it does.)

He is silly enough to eat soup and come up with a soup-song while he waits for the others to come back. Others would panic or wander around, and he eats soup and listens to music.

He gives Peter the Zune and accepts the younger as his new Capt’n despite the problems he has had with Peter before.

He is so loyal towards Yondu, misses the other so much, that he goes as far as implanting a fin in his head which is usually meant for the Centaurian race, certainly not a Xandarian like him, just that he can carry on a piece of Yondu’s legacy.

Just… Kraglin is this perfect blend of silly, nice, dorky and completely badass, and really balances out Yondu (and Peter, in a way). Perfect first mate, loyal and true, but also not afraid to point out to his Capt’n when he’s talking shit, not afraid to face down others and still make snarky comments.

I love this lanky goofball of a badass, okay.

a write-up of a bunch of my (angsty) aizawa headcanons that will probably make it into my fics someday, since i got asked about them and i’ve been wanting an excuse to write them up.

edit: holy shit this got so fucking long. oh my god. i’m so sorry that this is so long. there’s also just some regular headcanons in here too that aren’t as angsty. i really went overboard. i’m so sorry.

tw for discussions of abuse and neglect

-i mean, if you’ve read my fic(s) or followed me for very long, you probably know to some extent that i absolutely headcanon aizawa as having a pretty terrible home life. i’m gonna warn ya’ll right now that a lot of the stuff i’m gonna talk about is bordering on projecting. so, i talked about in this post, how… people don’t really become the way aizawa is without some sort of external force. i talked about there mostly in context with aizawa being extremely strict on his students and how it really gives off the feeling of trying to prevent something that happened at one point in time, but when dealing with his actual personality, there’s the glaring fact that he’s shown to pretty much shut down any and all emotion. this is a guy who i think confuses a lot of fans because he absolutely does not act on emotion at all and really, really does not show it. it actually seems like he deliberately goes out of his way to shove down any emotion and act only on logic. this is my roundabout way of explaining my headcanons.

-i have this headcanon that aizawa had a fucking miserable home life. like, as in, pretty heavily abused, especially for having/showing emotion. his parents were just complete assholes to him and did not support him in any way at all. as a result, aizawa very quickly learned a way of coping, which was actively shutting down any attempts at emotion at all. he’s still like this, because he’s spent the last 30 years trying not to feel anything, but he absolutely doesn’t push/encourage this for his classes. he actually tries to foster the opposite and ends up being concerned about his students’ emotional well-being

-his parents really just treated him like trash and in the end, it made aizawa really just- not care about himself or his general safety/well-being. he had no control at home and everything was subject to criticism in his family and he was constantly told to not peruse becoming a hero because he didn’t have a physical quirk and would never make it. he was probably even taunted that it’d be better fit for a villain than anything (like shinsou was). any achievements were ignored and his parents really just never cared about him. his health problems were pretty ignored, too, and he wasn’t actually diagnosed with any sort of eye problems or sleep disorder until he became an adult, though they were totally prevalent as a kid

-at least one of aizawa’s parents was a severe hoarder. like, piles of shit everywhere, and none of it is useful. aizawa grew up basically hating things and stuff because there was so much of it everywhere. not even his room/space was off limits. he had no control over it. as an adult, he has the extreme minimum amount of things in his apartment/house just because he hates stuff so much. he doesn’t buy anything unnecessary (unless it’s for the cats) and when he initially moved out and lived by himself, aizawa lived in the smallest, shittiest apartment possible and had no fucking furniture. it took an intervention from hizashi to get him to understand that even if you hate things and clutter, furniture is… kind of necessary (more on that later?)

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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.

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.

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.”

Concerning Rick’s Autism Joke

Trigger Warnings

This Post contains:

  • Spoilers for the Rick and Morty episode The Rickchurian Mortydate
  • Mentions of Ableism

Originally posted by rickandmorty-100years

There’s a joke about autism in the episode The Rickchurian Mortydate. Rick asks Morty if the videogame Minecraft is made for autistic people. Morty nearly calls him out before Rick goes on to say that he actually enjoys the game himself, heavily implying that he may be autistic.

For the most part, fan response to this joke seems to range from neutral to positive. On one hand, it could be a simple bait and switch joke; Rick seems like he’s going to say something incredibly ableist, but instead identifies himself as a member of said disabled group. The joke therefore changes from offensive to self depreciating.

On the more positive side of things, many fans, including members who happen to be on the autism spectrum themselves, see this joke as confirmation that Rick is, in fact, autistic. It’s a humanizing trait that reframes his aloof-ness and inability to empathize with other people in such a way that real life people with social anxiety can find common ground.

That said, this is still a show that goes out of its way to say that Rick Sanchez is a terrible person who probably shouldn’t be emulated. Most of Season 3, including this very episode, seems to be dedicated to showing just how horrible a person Rick Sanchez really is. One has to ask if the intention of this joke was to make Rick out as an ableist jerkface or as a relatable cinnamon bun.

He is neither.

Originally posted by burritodetodo

Rick is an incredibly flawed human being with a few redeeming qualities that prevent him from acting like a complete monster. He seems to have a genuine attachment to Morty, Beth, and Summer, even if said relationship borders on the unhealthy. He also seems to know better than to punch down on people less privileged that he is; nearly every character he faces off against are either at his level or above him in power. He’s not nessesarily against killing innocents, but at the very least he doesn’t target them intentionally.

I’m personally inclined to believe that this joke is meant to humanize Rick a bit further without having him break character. Though it could still be argued that his jokes still contain elements of ableism, the fact that he relates to the butt of the joke shows that he doesn’t believe he’s any better. Or rather, he doesn’t believe that being mentally abled alone makes him better.

In short, the target of the joke was himself, not people on the autism spectrum. This applies not only to Rick Sanchez, but also to the creators of the Show, Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.

Neither Justin Roiland nor Dan Harmon are neurotypical themselves. Dan Harmon has Asperger’s syndrome and Justin Roilaid is dyslexic.

Knowing this kinda sorta changes the context of several of the show’s jokes. Morty’s implied learning disabilities, Rick’s status as a literal mad scientist, and both characters heavy stutters take on a dimension of personal experience.

There’s still a good chance that emulating Rick is a terrible idea. But at the very least, it’s nice to know that relating to him isn’t nessesarily a bad thing.


Breathe In, Breathe Out

Samoa Joe/Reader
1750 words; Smut/Explicit

A lovely anon requested dominant, choking Joe.

This contains some pretty full-on breathplay.


You’re in bed when he brings it up, lying there in your usual hazy post-coital afterglow, limbs aching and body spent, Joe as calm as ever despite what he’s just done to you.

And he doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s not some foregone conclusion, either. You might submit to Joe, give yourself over to him utterly and completely, but you can still say ‘no.’ You can always say 'no’ with Joe, and he’ll respect that. He tests your limits, expands your boundaries in ways you couldn’t have imagined were possible, but he never, ever goes beyond what you’re able to handle, and his understanding of exactly how far he can push you is absolutely, almost eerily unerring.

Keep reading

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. ;)

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.

Josh Dun One Shot

Sorry im SO inactive lately. I do apologize.  But hey!! im here, still alive n lit , and coming at you live with this quick little 1.5k one shot. love ya all


You have a cry first. Wrapped up in a throw on the sofa, not entirely sure why this is your first reaction.

It’s not a big deal. It shouldn’t be. It’s just a kiss.

But this girl’s arms are wrapped around Josh’s neck, her thumb resting just below that spot below his ear, and Josh’s arm is wrapped tight around her neck and Twitter has gone absolutely mad with the photo. And you don’t like it. Not one bit. You decide you never liked him anyway.

Except that’s not true.  

You don’t know much about who Josh’s with or where he’s gone off to or what’s going on in general. But you’ve got a bad feeling in your stomach that you know shouldn’t be there.

The thing is, Josh and you aren’t together, not really. You’ve known each other for four years, been close for three.  And it’s not like you joke about it every chance you get. God knows you’re hyper aware that you aren’t the only one Josh’s been with. But this is different. All those other girls were always nobodies, nobodies he slept with or nobodies he was on and off again with or whatever. And you realize you’d tricked yourself into thinking that because of that you were special or different or something.

And this picture is a slap in the face showing you that you aren’t. It shows Josh can go around making out with anyone he pleases. It sets something off in your stomach. Something you don’t like to admit to feeling as often as you do.

So, in your three bedroom shared apartment, you wait up.

You make a cup of tea and put on a film, quietly so as not to disturb Jenna and Tyler sleeping just down the hall, and you sit and you wait, wrapped up on the sofa because you can’t live with this feeling anymore. This feeling waiting to spring up and set you on fire from the inside out. And you know you’re probably being dramatic because it’s now nearly three am, but you don’t care.

You’re not sure when you doze off, when the burning feeling eating you up subsides just enough to let your eyes shut, but you know sunlight is peeking through the blinds when you hear a key in the front door. You jolt awake, forgetting just for a few seconds why your back is aching and your eyes are sore.

“Y/N?” your name isn’t as slurred as you’re expecting it and that makes everything hit harder.

“What?” you keep your voice flat as you rub at your puffy eyes with one hand, the other still keeping the throw blanket clutched around you.

“What’re you doing on the couch?” you hear him kick off his shoes. You wonder what time it is and why Josh doesn’t sound as drunk as you’d expected.

“Why do you care?” you mutter under your breath, sitting up and attempting to straighten out your back.

“Well you’re always complaining about what it does to your back,” he rambles on obliviously and you hate that he’s right. Mostly hates how he’s weaseled his way so far into your heart that he knows that about you.

So you ignore him. You were stupid to think that you could do this, confront Josh and tell him how you really feel, risk everything you two have built over the course of the last three years together.

“Wha’s wrong with you?” Josh appears in the doorway just as you have tucked yourself into the corner of the sofa again, knees pulled to your chest and all.

You shrug, staring ahead at the title screen of the film you’d put on just a few hours ago. It doesn’t matter. That’s what you tell yourself.

“You going to bed or what?” Josh’s voice has finally softened and you can feel him staring at you.

You try to keep a straight face, a stone demeanor, because you’re afraid that the second you speak, every thought you’ve had in the past few hours will pour out. Your heart and soul will land on the floor at Josh’s feet and you don’t know if he’ll be able to resist the temptation to stomp all over it.

So you shrug.

Josh’s quiet for a second and you almost wonder if he left until there’s a shifting of weight on the sofa next to you and a warm presence seeping into your skin. You realize he’s been studying you, like you had learned to do for him before reacting after all these years. It’s a complete role reversal.

He smells like cheap beer and someone else. You wonder what else they did besides have a drunken kiss.

And really, that’s the tipping point, that’s what makes your blood run hot and make you forget that you don’t have a right to feel this way anyway.

“Go away,” you snap, wishing you could push yourself even further into the arm of the sofa, wishing you could manage something more hurtful. Your skin is burning up.

“Wha’s wrong?” his voice is hardly above a whisper and in any other situation, you would feel guilty for snapping.

“I said go away,” you can feel that feeling bubbling up inside of you, just waiting to spill over.

Josh doesn’t though, of course, “W-what did I do?”

It only pisses you off more that he has no idea why you’d be upset.

“Please, go!” You can’t remember the last time you actually shouted at Josh but it’s too much. Him sitting so close and smelling like someone else’s sweat and perfume and yet having no idea how much it hurts.

“‘S this about me staying out so late?” he sounds genuinely fucking confused, “I-I didn’t mean to, passed out on the sofa and-”

“After you slept with her?” You spit out and you swear, even the words taste bitter.

“W-what?” Josh sputters and you turn your head just enough to see him squirm and his cheeks turn red.

“You heard me,” you say, tears surfacing in your eyes, “Saw that photo all over the fucking internet.”

“W-what?” his sputters turn into nervous laughter, “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I‘m talking about,” You tuck yourself into an even tighter ball as if you can physically hold yourself from falling apart in front of him.

“I-I didn’t sleep with her-,” Josh chokes out, “She’s a friend. You know that.”

“We’re friends,” You turn your nose up at him because it’s true. Despite it always feeling like something so much bigger and more important than just friends.

Josh goes completely silent at that and you wonder if he can hear your heart pounding and the way you’re trying to control your breathing.

“Think we both know it’s a bit more than that,” he lets out a half laugh without an ounce of humor in it, “But I didn’t sleep with her. If that’s what you’re upset about.”

“‘It’s not a bit more than that!” You can’t even stop yourself, “Because if it was, if it meant something to you, you wouldn’t still be out sleeping with anything that breathes!”

Josh lets out a noise of complete disbelief, “W-what else ‘m I supposed to do? Y-you don’t want…”

As he trails off, You can hear the realization in his voice and you feel like crying.

“Y-you want me?” You can feel Josh crowding his space and he realizes he’s shut his eyes at some point, “Just me?”

You let out a shaky breath, realizing what you’ve done, “Go away, please, Josh-”

“Y/N, look at me,” Josh is pleading, tugging at your shoulder, “Answer me.”

You just want, for once, it to be reciprocated. For Josh to just get what he means without speaking, like you do for him.

So you nod.

Josh lets out another noise you can’t understand, before he’s reaching over and pushing your legs down, so he can practically drag you onto his lap, hands cradling your jaw. You are terrified to look at him. You don’t want to think about any of it. You just want that burning jealousy to fade. For Josh to want you back. For Josh to smell like your perfume and to not kiss anyone else.

“You stupid girl. You absolute idiot,” he’s pulling your face up to look at him, a playfulness in his voice that you hadn’t heard all night, “All you had to do was say so.”

And then Josh’s lips are fit just perfectly against yours, his hands still tight on your jaw, and it feels so right that you wonders why you’d ever been doing anything else but this your whole life.

misshrund  asked:

Omg, these promts are completely hilarious. :') I imagine so much this one with the poor Izuku :“I thought you were my friend so I slapped your ass in greeting.” And keep the good work ! Your blog is amazing ! èwéb

Midoriya Izuku

You called out to you best friend as you walked into class but he didn’t turn.  You called him again as you got closer but he still did not respond. Thinking that this jerk was ignoring you, you decide to get his attention another way. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

You pull back your hand and give him a hard smack in ass. He jumps and your hand stings as you pull away. You have a wide smile on you face and your quite proud of yourself until he turns around revealing the fact that you have just touched the ass of an innocent boy.

“Midoriya?” You burst out laughing at the way his face goes completely red. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else!”

“Ah ha. I was wondering.” He laughs nervously but it is obvious he isn’t bother by your mistake, just a little embarrassed. “You have quite an arm there.“

“You think? Thanks haha!” You give him a little nudge and teasingly add, “You’ve got quite a rear.”

Thats it. You successfully ended him in one sentence and he falls apart. He cant even look at you in the face for the rest of the day.