at least he's good for something

the best thing he never had ; four

one , two , three , four 

pairing; jungkook x reader

genre; best friend!au

word count; 4.8k

summary; in this story, you have known your best friend for more than 15 years and you were utterly and wholly in love with him


You promised that you would get to tell him.

Soon, that is.

But not now— not when he had been stressing out over midterms and you, being just as busy with packing your things and talking with the administrator back and forth about how your trip would all go down.

The global internship was a chance for you to finally do something that you loved and prove that you are worthy of something more than just purely passing every midterm and getting good grades effortlessly (at least that’s what they say when you’re not listening). But truly, you knew that this internship to see dozens of places could help you go back to your roots and experience the many things you wouldn’t be able to do with just plain studying.

You were going to Australia, the first place that your mother took you when you were seven and you could vaguely remember the streets that everyone walked on all throughout the day and you grasping onto your mother’s arm as tightly as you could in fear of getting side tracked and losing her all at once.

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anonymous asked:

Headcannons for having 2p Canada as your boyfriend? Thanks ^^

- he’s the jealous type
- this boy will practically flip if he sees you with a dude
- and might send him to the hospital
- that is unless you stop him
- tried to smuggle a bunch of animals in your house a couple hundred times
- v shy when it comes to physical contact and affection
- especially in public jesus christ
- he’ll still do it tho but with a very red face
- arguments and fights are common but nothing serious
- but he’d feel guilty so he’ll hug you and apologize when you least expect it
- “Look, I’m not really good with this kind of shit so, I’m sorry, aight?”
- will fucking melt if you wear one of his flannels
- he secretly likes watching chick flicks
- you caught him crying once
- will hold your hand is something bothering him
- or if tries to avoid you
- such contradictory
- use him as a fucking blanket istg

anonymous asked:

fluffy date ideas with all the elboys

All you need to do with Elsword is give him a chance to talk to you and give him food.  That’s it.  That’s the fluffiest, best date for him.  He is a simple man with simple needs.

Dates with Raven tend to be simple too, but more elegant.  He knows his way around courting and romance and all that.  He’ll usually plan your dates, but he finds it delightful when you take control and plan something simple like a picnic.

Chung was always taught to treat his dates with courtesy bordering on formality.  Take him somewhere casual to lighten him up, maybe ask him for swimming lessons or some such.  He gets a lot less stiff when he’s yelling instructions.

Good luck going on a date with Add.  Your best bet is taking him to a junkyard where you know he can scavenge parts he needs.  Just prepare to be ignored in favor of those sweet, sweet Nasods.

At least Ciel pays attention to you during dates.  He’s honestly good with going anywhere, so long as he can be with you.  Just… don’t take him to a bar, especially not in Lanox.  A lot of his old friends frequent those bars.  His old friends will not necessarily end up as your friends.

If you really want to date Ain, you’re going to need a hell of a reason.  He can always pop out of intervention halfway through if he gets bored, leaving you alone and confused.  Keep things interesting to hold his attention.

exotisque  asked:

Prompt: Tomarry | Sunshine

Thanks so much for sending this in!! I had a lot of fun with it <3


“You better be keeping your eyes closed,” Tom’s voice warned from somewhere up ahead. His hand was still tightly laced with Harry’s, reassuring him that he wasn’t going to suddenly disappear or lead him astray.

“I am,” Harry protested, placing his free hand over his eyes just for good measure. “How much longer until we get where we’re going?”

“It won’t be much longer,” Tom promised, squeezing his hand once.

Harry huffed. They had to have been traveling for at least half an hour by then, ever since Tom had shaken him awake early that morning, insisting that he had something to show him.

After they’d showered and dressed, Tom and Harry had carefully and quietly slipped out of Wool’s before anyone else had time to wake. From there, they’d gone into Diagon Alley and apparated away once they’d reached the point.

(Tom didn’t care that he wasn’t licensed yet. After what had happened third year, he refused to care about the legality of unlicensed apparating. Harry, who had seen the scars firsthand, let him have that.)

They’d landed in the center of a dirt road that was flanked by trees, smack dab in the middle on what appeared to be nowhere. Before Harry could even ask where they were, Tom had demanded that he shut his eyes until told otherwise. From there, they had begun the trek. It was early enough in the morning that the stifling heat of July hadn’t quite kicked in, and the sunlight dappling through the trees felt nice on Harry’s cool skin.

“Okay.” Tom’s voice rang out quietly as he slowly pushed Harry’s hand back in a signal for him to stop walking. “You can open your eyes again.”

They had come to a stop at the end of the dirt road, which opened up to a clearing large enough to fit the house that sat there, and then some.

The house itself was shaky, and clearly hadn’t been tended to in years. Grass grew tall enough to to obscure the small front porch, and the home had probably seen far better days. The windows were covered with a thick layer of dirt, and the wood looked to be rotted through in some spots.

“It’s going to need a lot of work,” Tom said, voicing Harry’s thoughts. “But I figure- I thought it’d be nice. He turned to face Harry, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable- something that had shadowed every part of him since June.

“It would be better than having to sneak around the orphanage,” Harry agreed, giving him a small, hopefully reassuring smile. “How long do you think it’d be before we got this place up to scratch?”

Tom considered the question for a moment. “I could ask Abraxas for one of his elves,” he mused slowly. “And it would do everything we need. I’d say a week at the most.”

An eyebrow raised in amusement. “You’ll ask?” Harry questioned. “Or demand?”

“Ask,” Tom emphasized, his eyes narrowing. He shifted guiltily. “I- I know I have not been the best person, and I know I won’t be. I can’t just change who I am because of what I’ve seen.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “However, I do not- I do not want to end up living the future I saw.”

Harry nodded empathetically. He could understand why Tom would come to that conclusion, and he was grateful for the fact that he was even sane enough to.

“Either way, given what you’ve told me about your life in the…future, I thought you would want a sanctuary away from everything once I begin a political career,” Tom told him, changing the subject. He gently tugged their still-joined hands. “Would you like to see the inside?”

Harry nodded again, his smile growing just a bit wider. “Sure,” he agreed, striding ahead.

The porch steps creaked loudly as they walked up them, and the porch itself felt very unsteady. Harry stood back so Tom could open the door, and they stepped inside together.

Dust. Dust everywhere.

The house was stuffy and drafty, and it had the musty smell of stale air and a hint of earthy mold. The lighting was really dim, though it thankfully didn’t impact them actually seeing a lot. While the house being empty was a major plus, there was a layer of grime at least an each thick on every surface.

“Wow,” Harry murmured in amusement, tentatively walking forward. Where his footfalls landed, an ensuing groan from the floorboards sounded. “This is all ours?”

Tom cleared his throat. “Yes,” he confirmed. “Once we graduate from Hogwarts, I was thinking we could also begin renting a flat in Diagon, or in a wizarding town somewhere close by.”

“Hogsmeade?” Harry asked, turning back to face Tom. He had stepped to the side and was leaning against the wall. Harry would have been shocked by that, if not for the fact that Tom was wearing a rattier set of clothes from Wool’s.

“Maybe,” Tom conceded with a single nod. “It would be useful if you landed the Defense position I know you must have your eyes on.” His expression shifted then, to the same more unsure one once again, more anxious. “I know this can’t ever be a replacement for what ‘home’ must have meant to you in your own time, but-”

“I love it,” Harry emphasized, walking over to Tom and taking both of his hands in his own. “I made my choice to stay here anyway, and I don’t think I’m going to regret it.” He leaned forward and kissed Tom gently, pulling away again before he could reciprocate. “I don’t regret it, Tom. I love you.”

Tom’s face scrunched up for a moment. “If you’re sure,” he mumbled. He released his hands from Harry’s hold and pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his lips against Harry’s forehead. “Promise me you’ll let me know when that changes?”

“It won’t,” Harry murmured back, leaning into Tom’s warm embrace. “But okay. I promise.”

anonymous asked:

Hunk makes it his mission to hug everyone at least once a day, especially Shiro and Keith because they're touch-starved.

not exactly what you asked for, but something i’ve been wanting to write……. 

(this got waaaaaaaay longer than originally intended, uh. oops? very hunk and shiro centric, borderline shunk, though nothing explicitly shippy)


Hugging Lance is easy, they’re pretty affectionate with each other anyways, so if Hunk hugs him a bit more or longer than usual, it’s not really something that Lance notices.

Pidge has never been much of a hugger, at least hugs she doesn’t initiate herself. But Hunk is her friend, and he’s pretty dang huggable, and so she doesn’t mind letting him initiate hugs more often than she’d allow it from anyone else. She eventually even gets used to it, accepting the hugs as they come, sometimes even continuing what she was working on and patting Hunk on the arm to show she’s good with him doing it, until Hunk lets go.

Keith is also surprisingly easy to hug. He never initiates, but he’s gotten very comfortable with Hunk’s hugs, has started really leaning into them, even if he doesn’t usually wrap his arms around Hunk in return. It’s just not something he feels he’s very good at, but Hunk doesn’t mind when he feels Keith push just a tiny bit closer into Hunk’s chest.

Coran is easy, too, like hugging one of his uncles. He never really questions Hunk’s hugs, maybe because he thinks it’s a human thing or maybe because he thinks it’s a Hunk thing. Either way, Coran takes it in stride and always welcomes Hunk’s hugs with enthusiasm and sincerity.

Hunk feels weird about hugging Allura. They aren’t close, and Hunk just can’t figure her out, she keeps her cards too close to her chest, only ever really showing her weaknesses to Coran. They’ve shared celebratory hugs, and Hunk has had to half carry her before, when she’s exhausted or over-exerted herself, but those don’t really count as hugs. But it’s fine, they show their affection in different ways. Hunk tries to replicate traditional Altean dishes, and Allura is always first to lay a comforting hand on Hunk’s shoulder or arm.

They do hug, really really hug, once when Hunk goes on a particularly dangerous mission. Allura and Hunk had, in a surprising turn of events, actually had a fight, and then Hunk had to rush off on a mission only the Yellow Paladin and Lion could do. Allura had followed him to the hangar and they’d shared a moment, each of them hugging a little harder than what’s strictly comfortable.

Hunk makes it back, a little bruised and battered, and Allura puts her hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze, the way she usually does. They’re okay.

It’s Shiro, though, that notices. Hunk’s tendency to hug more and longer, but to spend less time with the rest of the team. Who notices the sheer number of baked goods coming out of the kitchen, how sometimes there’s several platters full on the counter in the morning where there wasn’t when he went to bed. 

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mithriil  asked:

Okay but after this episode - are you just as mad as I am that they spoiled Simm in the trailers? This could've been such a fucking good twist and whoever made those trailers ruined such a good reveal. I swear I will never get over this stolen opportunity of even more angst and drama

This really would have been the ‘Earthshock moment’ that Moff’s really wanted, but the modern climate of how television production works (especially one as big as Doctor Who) just doesn’t allow for that to happen any more. That really sucks.

I’m pretty annoyed at how poor the BBC has been about spoilers this year, it seems like the moment that something leaks they decide to go ahead and make an official announcement about it.

And, like… that was some really good make-up/prosthetics they used on John Simm. If I hadn’t known he was in the episode, I would’ve spent at least half of that episode not even thinking that Razor was anything other than a major supporting character for Bill’s part of the story.

anonymous asked:

I hope they show Jonah reacting/working through knowing about Cyrus's crush, like it takes multiple episodes. Literally every gay boy has fallen in love with a straight friend at some point in their lives, it is such a real experience. (Side note: It would be really fascinating if Jonah responds something like "I'm with Andi, sorry," like it would be a possibility if he weren't interested in her. #Jyrus4Life)

Yeah its a complex issue because they have an established friendship but if Jonah doesn’t like him back that could affect the friendship at least temporarily. Again I’ll say I don’t think Jonah wouldn’t accept Cyrus for who he is but relationships are complicated especially when there are romantic feelings involved. One of the many good things about this show is we don’t have to wrap everything up in a pretty bow by the end of every episode.  Any of these topics could carry over multiple episodes before they are resolved. As for your side note that would be a great response and a great way to leave the possibilities open. 

tips for RAMADAN:

• distance yourself from your smartphone and unnecessary sins at least for this month.
• read books about our beloved Prophet (peace be upon him)
• help your family in the household
• smile often
• avoid unnecessary discussions
• do small good deeds every day
• read Tafsir
• learn a new Sure
• train your Nafs
• visit mosques for Iftar, Sohoor
• pray Taraweeh in mosques
• avoid music, if it’s difficult for you, try at least to replace it with (halal) Nasheeds
• hear Quran as much as you can
• reflect the Quran on you
• talk every day to Allah
• give small charities daily
• be nice to people (even when they’re testing you, train your Nafs!)
• pray your daily prayers on time
• pray Sunnah
• make Dua for you and your Ummah
• help your mom preparing Iftar
• eat healthy
• try to work out for at least 10 min. after Iftar
• ask Allah constantly for forgiveness

may Allah let us reach the month of His forgiveness, goodness and mercy and may He accept our fasting and give us strength.
Allahuma Ameen

Tasty Tryst (M)

Summary: Selling preserves at the local farmers’ market has its distractions when your vendor booth is placed next to the one belonging to the young strawberry farmer who’s been sweet on you for years.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 9,643

Warning: StrawberryFarmer!Taehyung, foodplay, sexual themes, profanity

Series: Working Man Bangtan

A/N: Just in time for strawberry season.

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some very important Christophe Giacommeti & Viktor Nikiforov headcanons:

shoutout to @lavenderprose who has the same brain as me when it comes to YOI/Viktor hcs

  • Chris and Viktor have been friends for 10+ years. if the scene with Viktor at juniors is his last year as a junior, that means they met when Viktor was about 15 and Chris was about 13. They have almost certainly been through Some Shit together and know the other one better than they know themselves.
  • every year at worlds, the night after the free skate, regardless of the results, the two of them buy 3 bottles of shitty wine and watch whatever movies they’ve been texting each other about throughout the season. The Notebook, Pitch Perfect, The Avengers, whatever it is, they get wine drunk and MST3K the hell out of it after the medal ceremony.
  • (they keep doing this even after Yuuri – actually, Yuuri was invited one time but couldn’t quite get the hang of the banter. you can’t make up 10 years of friendship for 6 months of dating, no matter how in love you are.)
  • They are fully aware of the idea that they’re dating/have dated/are sleeping together/have slept together etc.  They think it’s hilarious. There’s even a ship name for it – Viktophe – and they regularly browse the twitter tag and send each other screenshots of the funniest ideas.
  • they also read the RPF about them to each other in hotel rooms during events
  • that meme where one person bursts into the room like “I knew you were having sex” and one of the pair is like “oh no one told me I would have put down my book”? that’s them.
  • They have biweekly bitchfest skype/phone calls where they just dish on whatever dumb shit has happened to them recently.  
  • When they were younger and Viktor still had really long hair Christophe would fix it for galas and events. He really liked to try out pinterest/youtube tutorials but didn’t have a model so Viktor would volunteer, then show up to a sponsorship event with like a hairbow updo.
  •  you’d think Yakov would hate him considering the both of them 100% are terrible influences on each other re:acting like drama queens, being massive flirts, buying lululemon yogas with “peach” emblazoned across the ass
  • but actually Chris is a really good influence on Viktor in more important ways. i.e. ensuring he doesn’t kill himself and making sure Yakov knows to keep an eye out on him.
  • there have been at least 3 times Chris has called Yakov at an ungodly hour of the morning insisting he go check on Viktor because he was very worried that Viktor was going to do something stupid
  • chris is almost always right about this. yakov has found his star skater on the ledge and had to coax him down and into the shower more times than he’d like to admit. chris knows viktor, knows his tells, knows when he’s starting to get bad again
  •  by the time they’re 20 and 22, yakov goes to chris if he’s worried about viktor’s mental health but viktor won’t talk about it.  no one’s ever said it aloud, but they all know that Chris may well be the reason Viktor is still alive
  • tl:dr – chris has been worried about his best friend for a long time and when he sees how viktor lights up with yuuri, he gets to breathe easy for the first time in a long time

episode two :: Yuri realizes, suddenly and terribly, he might be a little bit in love.  


Victor doesn’t even try to go to sleep.  He just lays in bed with his laptop, watching the thirty-seven takes of Yuuri trying to get “hi, I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the Bachelor” out of his mouth.

Don’t they know who I am?” Yuuri slurs on screen.  

Yuuri, you have to put the champagne bottle down, you have to pretend to be sober,” Phichit says off camera, all authority gone from his voice.  He’s trying not to laugh.

Phichit,” Yuuri says, and he takes a big swig from the bottle, bubbles pouring down both sides of his lips. “You can’t tell me what to do.  I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the motherfucking Bachelor.

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So one thing i’ve noticed about Shiro that i totally and absolutely adore for several reasons (one of them being that it lines up with my hc that Shiro would be an epic Cedric Diggory type hufflepuff in an hp au) is that Shiro is not an OVERprotective type.

Lemme explain why this is good and how.

We know that Shiro is protective of those he loves, I’m not saying he isn’t protective (AHEM STEPPING IN FOR MATT) but what i am saying is that Shiro isn’t SO protective that he belittles the strength and abilities of the people he cares about; which is a trait too often glorified in heroes, especially concerning the male hero to the female. 

Exhibit A) S01E10. Allura says that she’s going with them to break into the space base and everyone’s looking at Shiro like “dude you can’t let the princess join us on a such a dangerous mission”

and Shiro’s just like “sure, why not?”

while everyone else reacts like this:

Obviously, because of genre expectations, we would expect Shiro to say something along the lines of “no way we can’t endanger the princess like that” so it comes as a bit of a surprise, a good one of course, when instead of insisting Allura can’t come that he has no issues with it. He doesn’t even look conflicted, he has no idea why Allura shouldn’t be allowed to come! That’s because our little cinnamon role knows what’s up and he understands that Allura is strong, capable woman. At the very least he knows that he has no good reason to assume otherwise (even though there’s some pretty funny scenes once they’re in the base and Allura doesn’t even know how to hold a gun). But you get my point.

To summarize Exhibit A: This scene is a VERY REFRESHING change from the standard “i must protect the princess, the princess is incapable of protecting herself, which means i’m the only one allowed to do dangerous things” narrative. Shiro does not judge a person’s adequacy based on unfounded preconceptions. This is a SUPER important quality in a leader. Also, this means he isn’t sexist. 

Exhibit B) S02E12. 

Keith offers to be the one to go into the ship to make sure what was supposed to be Thace’s job gets done. Kolivan says it’s a suicide mission and that he would never command anyone so inexperienced do it when Keith replies:

And of course Shiro, being the head of Voltron, is the next person who would have a say in this - who should be the one to talk Keith down. But he doesn’t. Instead he says this:

This demonstrates that Shiro, understanding who Keith is, knows that there is no stopping Keith which means the best thing for Shiro to do is make sure Keith gets to the ship safely. 

This is very similar to what he did with Allura. He doesn’t stop her from going on the mission, but insists he goes with her (i didn’t touch on that above but we know that happened).

So let’s just talk about what this means for a second. Shiro cares about Keith. We know he’s totally worried about Keith’s safety because he LITERALLY has to take a breath to COMPOSE HIMSELF before he says this. He does not want Keith to do this, he does not want anyone for that matter to be risking their lives. But this is war. I’m sure Shiro wishes for nothing more than to be able to trust that Thace will do his part. But Keith can’t rely on that, and Shiro knows that he can’t either. And they shouldn’t because they can’t be taking any chances with this fight.

So Shiro lets Keith do what Keith needs to do, what they all need Keith to do. Shiro chooses to trust Keith’s abilities, and doesn’t undermine Keith’s determination. This whole war is bigger than all of them! Keith is not just Shiro’s probably younger friend, Keith is a fellow paladin of Voltron. Keith is his equal, not some helpless child who needs to be kept out of harm’s way and given the least dangerous task because he has no right to be involved or because he doesn’t want Keith to get hurt. 

So Shiro says “I’ll give you cover.” Because Shiro protects those he cares about. And because he REALLY TRULY cares about Keith, and Allura, and everyone, he knows what they’re capable of. He trusts them. He doesn’t let his need to protect them belittle them. 

OVERALL: I just think this says so much about Shiro and the type of hero role he plays, especially as a leader it is so important that his protective side is not also oppressive. Shiro’s the kind of guy who would die WITH his friends, not just the classic FOR his friends. Shiro doesn’t undermine the people he loves like that, they’re all his equal, they are all capable human (or not human or half human) beings. 

If the people he loves wants to fight then they deserve to fight, that’s their right and not his decision to make. But he sure as hell doesn’t have to let them do it alone so he goes with them. He helps them however he can.

And quick flashback to the Matt situation. The only reason Shiro stepped in like that was because Matt clearly did not want to go into the ring. I think if for whatever reason Matt really wanted to fight that dude (maybe for his own revenge or something) Shiro wouldn’t have taken that away from him. But Matt was not ready, Matt was freaking out and Matt did not want to fight. So Shiro did it for him cuz THAT is the Shiro way.

(sorry this was probably way longer than necessary, I’m not very concise but I haven’t seen a post about this so i thought i’d try my hand at making one) 

You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Growing up, people told Y/n that you could die from a broken heart—that the stress on your heart strings could weaken, and all that’s left is the pain in your chest.

Y/n thought her heart would fail her, rupture all that’s left of her and leave her body to decompose. She believed that, if her broken heart wasn’t going to kill her, loneliness and lack of sleep would push her towards her end.

Moving on—something that seemed so simple yet so impossible for Y/n to do.

When the hurt in her chest and the hallucinations from exhaustion started to become too much for her to handle, she was willing to do anything to help herself. She started taking up yoga sessions, started writing music, even started cooking in an attempt to bring herself back from whatever hell she was in.

She even considered moving on; meeting a man at a bar and getting to know more about him rather than his drink order. But something seemed so wrong about that—something was unsettled inside of her at the thought of being with someone who wasn’t Harry.

The image of Jessica in Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt was enough to haunt her nearly every hour of the day. She started going mental, constantly wondering what they were doing together in the moments she was most vulnerable. She wondered about their love life, their future, their interests. She thought about everything.

It wasn’t until Gabby was determined to mend the broken girl raiding her house, finding any possible excuse to give her a sense of life again, that Y/n found the slightest bit of hope.

Y/n was losing it, entirely, and Gabby refused to continue being a bystander.

Gabby had set Y/n up on a blind date only a couple weeks back, practically begging her to seize every opportunity she possibly can to get over Harry. It was all Gabby could do to help her, considering nothing quite helped Y/n’s well-being since the breakup.


“Oh, he’s just so perfect!” Gabby squealed, clapping her hands before gripping tightly around Y/n’s wrists in excitement. “He’s gorgeous! Amazing blue eyes—breathtaking, really! And he’s so sweet, Y/n! I haven’t met a single person who’s disliked him and he’s such an amazing photographer! And his teeth! His teeth are marvelous! Do you know how hard it is nowadays to find a man with nice teeth? I mean—“

By then, Y/n had dozed off, and it wasn’t for any personal reason against Gabby; she’s appreciated every bit of hard work to help her through the heartbreak Y/n’s been dealing with nearly half of a year now. It’s just that she wasn’t ready to move on, not that she didn’t want to.

It had been nearly five months, which may seem like such an abundance of time to rid feelings for somebody, but did time really help moving on from someone she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with? It seemed nearly impossible. She could barely see herself looking at other men in a romantic sense, how could she see herself going on a date with somebody? Especially when she was still in love with somebody else?

She was biting the bullet with letting time heal her, but she felt that was the only way. Nothing more could help her. If anything, she believed dating would make it worse, if she were being honest.

But the look of excitement Gabby had at the mere thought of Y/n being happy again was something Y/n found nearly impossible to resist. Besides, she had definitely been overstaying her welcome at Gabby’s house no matter how much Gabby’s tried to deny it and has put so much stress onto her that maybe, just maybe, doing this one favor for all that she’s done for her.

“So, what do you say?”

Y/n blinked harshly when Gabby’s voice drowned out all the scrambled thoughts in her head, shaking her head slightly to regain her understanding of reality.

“What?”

“Monmouth Coffee Shop at noon tomorrow. Dan really wants to meet you, Y/n! Please!”

Y/n’s eyes widened, snapping her head up to meet Gabby’s hopeful eyes.

“The Monmouth?! Are you crazy?! That’s Harry’s favorite coffee shop, you know that! Dan and Harry probably know each other, that’s how much he goes there!”

Gabby’s eyes narrowed as her lips pursed, gaze directing toward the ceiling in thought.

“Harry? Harry who? I don’t remember who that is, never heard that name in my life.”

Her tone reeked with sarcasm, which made Y/n’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. As much as she wished Gabby’s negative remarks about Harry were comedic, there was always something about them that infuriated her. She always supposed it was the instinctual aspect of loving someone so much.

Gabby sighed as she reached her hand up to rub Y/n’s shoulder gently.

“Look,” she began, “you’re my best friend and I hate seeing you like this. You’re not the same Y/n I always knew, and I think you see yourself that way, too. And in all honesty, I don’t give a fuck about Harry anymore. As sadistic and twisted as it sounds, I don’t care about his emotions, or how he feels. He did this to you. He killed a part of you and I feel it’s my obligation to help you through this. So, please, go out with Dan tomorrow. He works at Monmouth, he’ll meet you before his shift starts at 1:30.”

Gabby’s arm slid off of Y/n’s shoulder at the shadow of uncertainty behind her eyes. Even though Gabby understood all the pain and hesitation, she didn’t want to see Y/n suffer another day. She just couldn’t.

“Please,” she whimpered, “Dan has been the only sense of hope I’ve gotten to make you happy again. Just do this one thing, please? And if it doesn’t work, then you can blame me. I’m just trying here.”

Y/n coughed slightly, her inability to say no wearing off of her at Gabby’s desperate pleads. It was an opportunity to turn things back around in her life, and if it didn’t go as planned, she really didn’t have anything more to lose.

She nods her head softly.

“Yeah—yeah, okay. I’ll meet him.”

Maybe this would be good for her.


Dan is lovely, always caring for Y/n and making sure she feels like loyalty whenever she’s around. He puts her first, in everything, and made a rule that the date can’t end until I hear you laugh at least six times.

It’s cute, really, how effortless he is at giving someone so much attention. Y/n likes it—loves it, even, but it still never feels right to her. She sees something with him, but nothing long term, not in the way she sees Harry.

But he’s good for her now, when she’s at her worst and needs someone to be there for her. He’s able to provide her with the company she desperately needs in order to cure the possible fatalities that came with her broken heart.

“Thank you for the coffee, it was great.” Y/n smiles softly, her cheeks blushing slightly as she traces the rim of her coffee cup.

It’s nearly their tenth date, and they still meet at the Monmouth at noon before his shift. It’s become a routine for them, meeting together at noon before Dan drops her off at the parking station. It became something they both looked forward to throughout their week, and soon became more of a tradition between them.

Dan grins, almost instinctively wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulders so that her head makes rest on his chest. He sighs, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head before resting his chin where his lips once were.

“Of course. I’ll be getting out at around 6 o‘clock so maybe I can stop by for a few? Maybe watch a movie?”

He knows the answer before she says it—his constant attempts to get closer to her always seeming to fail. There’s always a hesitation, or always an excuse to prevent them from being alone together.

He’s well aware that there are parts of her that need to be fixed, still being completely destructed by her ex-lover. He’s tried tirelessly to get her to open up and to trust him, but there’s a thick barrier still in their way of each other. It disheartens him, to know she refuses to let him in.

She sighs, guilt evident in her breath as she softly pushes away from him.

She does that often, he’s noticed it.

She feels horrible for doing so every time. Everything between them has remained stagnant, nothing being built so that nothing could be knocked down. It’s not that Y/n doesn’t trust him, it’s that Y/n doesn’t trust herself. She’s still in love with someone else, and she can’t hurt Dan—not in that way.

“I think I’m just going to—“

“Yeah, I know.” Dan nods, arms moving to cross at his chest, “I get it. Just like every other time.”

Y/n reaches her shaking fingers to brush her hair behind her ear, guilt flashing in her eyes as she refuses to meet his gaze. She’s familiar with the look he has on his face well enough to know he’s upset again, being constantly shut down by her.

“I’m so sorry, Dan.” She whispers, “But I’m trying. I want to keep trying with you. If you let me.”

He looks unconvinced, as he’s been hearing this for a while now. But something inside of him can’t quit her, no matter how much his intuition tells him she’s a dead end. Maybe he feels sorry for her on a level he’s never felt sorrow for somebody else. No matter how much she hides it, she really does need him. Not in a romantic level, but she does need him to show her that he cares for her and that he’ll always be there. She needs that sense of security, and he’s the only one that can provide it for her.

“Yeah,” he nods, “we can keep trying. It’s okay, I’m here for you.“


Harry had been living in his studio for the past couple of weeks. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it was much better than sleeping on his and Y/n’s bed—alone.

That’s all he’s felt since their break up—lonely. It’s quite strange, considering Harry had millions of supporters, an entire band throughout his solo career, and producers around him nearly every hour of the day. He used to complain that he never had alone time anymore, that between all the constant traveling and being at the peak of his career, it was hard to find time for himself.

But now, in the midst of everything happening in his life, he wishes to feel that sort of hustle again.

Y/n was the person that kept him grounded through everything. She was the one consistency in his life, which gave him all the more reasons to love her. Whenever he was overwhelmed with the pressure put on him, or feeling homesick during his travels, she was always the one to keep him at bay and give him a sense of clarity.

Home hadn’t become a house, instead, Y/n’s heart. Wherever she was, he felt at home. Even when she was half way across the world, it was her voice that brought him back and reminded him that, no matter how much he missed the walls of familiarity, home was always a phone call away. She gave him that sense of comfort everywhere she went, it was truly amazing.

And when he broke up with Y/n, he didn’t think of how much everything around him would be affected. He thought time would do them best—would help mend the relationship that seemed to be collapsing beneath their feet. Their connections were lost, replaces by uncomfortable silences and unbarring arguments.

He didn’t think of the consequences when he did it. He didn’t think about how lost he’d become, or how he had no place to call home, or how there was no consistency in his life anymore. There were so many aspects of his life that Y/n had given him—so much of them that he didn’t realize until she moved out.

It was the exact reason he started dating Jessica. She was a great distraction, a beautiful woman to take his mind off of everything.

They weren’t much of anything. Nothing about them was exclusive besides what the media saw of them: boyfriend and girlfriend moving in together in London. It was far from the truth, really. He was with her to terminate his dry spell and rid his loneliness, and she was with him because he infatuated her.

He ended it all, though, that same morning Y/n found Jessica wearing their shirt. The entire incident gave him a realization; that nobody could fill his void like Y/n did.

The fear of losing her forever and making her believe he was in love with somebody else was enough to break him out of his selfish ways. She had been waiting for him for months, and when he returned, he wasn’t the same man he was.

Not only did Harry know that Y/n lost all her faith in him—he lost all faith in himself, as well.


“I’m so screwed, Nick. I fucked up everything. Everything.”

Harry was laying with his back flat against the studio couch, hands rubbing down his face as he tried to steady his harsh breathing.

It was just after he had run into Y/n at the grocery store, where she had seen Jessica wearing Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt. Although he was practically mute during the encounter, everything hit him at once after Y/n and Gabby walked out.

He called Nick in a hurry, incoherent and completely disoriented from the tears he’d broken down into. Everything he thought would be mended completely fell down on them—all because of him.

“Jessica was wearing the shirt with the—fuck, you know the shirt, and Y/n saw and she was such a mess, Nick. I didn’t even say anything to her, she was practically begging me to say something and I didn’t say a word.”

Nick sat cross-armed on one of the chairs, directly across from Harry. He wished he could have felt remorse seeing Harry in such distress, however, he never agreed with Harry’s actions and made it clear numerous times. In his eyes, this was karma’s ticking time bomb.

“You tend to be a real jackass sometimes, you know that?”

Harry lifted himself up so that he could sit properly. His body slumped against the back of the couch, head rested in his palm as he coughed uncomfortably at Nick’s choice of words.

“You let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you and then you just move on, as if she meant nothing, and you think you just fucked it all up now? Over the goddamn t-shirt?”

Harry scowled at him.

“I haven’t moved on, and it’s more than just a t-shirt, you know that. That was ours.” Harry defended, glaring over at his direction.

“So why was Jessica wearing it after you fucked her on the bed you and Y/n shared every night for the past three years?”

Something about Nick’s words gave Harry a foul taste in his mouth. As much as he wished Nick didn’t say it in that way, that’s exactly what Harry did, and knowing he had to live with that for the rest of his life made his stomach flip inside of him.

He really did fuck it up. Nothing he did was excusable, nothing he did was forgivable. He betrayed the one woman he loved so dearly—the one woman he’d always consider his soulmate. He really, really fucked it up.

He gulped as he tried to find words to justify himself. There was really nothing he could say.

“She—she had just put it on while I was sleeping and when—when I noticed she just wouldn’t shut up about breakfast and I couldn’t just be like ‘Hey, Jess, could you take off that shirt? That belonged to me and my ex-girlfriend and I don’t appreciate it?’ How could I do that?”

He sighed, leaning his face into the palm of his hands as he looked back onto his experiences with Jessica. Was it all worth it? Was she really worth all of this?

“She means nothing to me, Nick. I lost the girl I love for somebody who doesn’t mean anything to me.” He whispered, “How do I live knowing that?”


It’s nearly two in the afternoon when Harry finally decides to leave his studio. He’s been working on some songs he found himself writing during his free time, something he found therapeutic throughout the past couple of months.

Recording and writing have become the only distractions that seem to work for Harry. Everything else became temporary. Writing out his emotions and singing the words he wishes he could say has been the only sense of closure he’s had in a while.

“Dan! Long time no see!” Harry smiles when he enters Monmouth, a familiar face being something he finds so relieving.

Dan looks up from his register, reaching over the counter to give Harry a hug as he greets him enthusiastically.

“Haven’t seen you in quite a while. On your lunch break?”

Harry nods as his eyes squint, reaching for the back of his neck as he reads over the menu.

“Yeah, kind of in a hurry today if you don’t mind. Can I just get a medium coffee with almond milk, please? And a slice of apple pie, feeling kind of brisk today.”

Dan works his fingers across the cash register, yelling out his order to the barista before making small talk about the weather. Considering Harry hasn’t been seen in Monmouth nearly as much as he used to, they both found it nice to catch up with each other for the short while they’ve been distanced.

When Dan reaches over to give Harry his spare change, an all too familiar silver ring catches his attention immediately. At first glance, he swears his heart stopped beating.

There’s no way, there’s just no way that could be the ring Harry gave to Y/n. Dan and Y/n have never met before, considering she had only visited here a handful of times during Harry’s lunch break. And even then, she would just stand patiently by the door while Harry waited to retrieve his order.

There’s just no way, but the top of the rose has a particular rust on it that resembles Harry’s perfectly—and no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen it, he’ll never forget what it looks like.

Harry’s hand grips onto Dan’s wrist instead of reaching out to grab the spare change laying upon his palm, flipping over his hand to inspect the silver ring snug almost too perfectly around his finger. He’s aggressive, movements harsh and face tight with anger, but at this point in time, the last thing Harry’s worried about is Dan’s slightly intimidated composure.

“Where did you get this?”

Unlike his demeanor, his voice is soft and breaking between each word. There’s an unrecognizable shift in his eyes when he sees the wear and tear Harry knows he caused before gifting it to Y/n. This is most definitely his, and knowing Y/n was the one who gave it to him makes him nearly throw up all the contents in his stomach.

“Girlfriend gave it to me,” Dan smiles “well, not really my girlfriend yet. But you know how they are. I told her I liked it and she insisted I have it.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, making him nearly whimper when he opens his mouth to speak.

He’s never felt so much pain before. The breaking that was once only in his heart spread like wildfire across every bone and ligament in his body. It burns, the sudden realization that Y/n has a boyfriend, that Y/n is no longer going to be there—waiting for him—the way he always expected her to be, that Y/n has taken it upon herself to seek revenge on him so that he can feel everything she felt that one Sunday morning at the grocery store.

And it’s then he realizes that this is nothing compared to everything he’s put her through. In his favor, this is just a stupid ring her gave her for her birthday because he loved the way she twisted it around his finger. It didn’t have much value between them, just something small they shared. He couldn’t imagine the hurt he would have now, standing her, if Dan were wearing their Lover t-shirt.

“Wh—What’s her name?”

His voice is in a whisper now, only the slightest bit of hope draining from his body when he hears Dan speak again.

“Y/n. She’s a good girl, you’d like her.”

Harry almost laughs. You’d like her. He has no idea, he’s in love with her.

It’s as if every part of Harry’s body begins to shut down. Maybe it’s from the shock, or the overbearing pain he feels in his chest, but he suddenly begins to feel lightheaded. His muscles turn numb and all his orientation seems to scramble as if he’s intoxicated.

Dan’s eyes narrow when he sees all the color drain from his face, his eyes widened and soaked with tears. He watches as he nearly falls backward, only to balance himself with his foot when he takes a proper step away from the counter.

“Harry? Harry, you alright?”

Never fucking say my name again is the first proper thought that his brain can register. But his throat is tight and his tongue is numb. He attempts to take a breath of air, but he feels like his lungs are collapsing in his chest, preventing him from doing anything besides stumble uncoordinatedly out of the Monmouth doors.

He’s falling apart—that’s exactly what it feels like. He feels like every limb is falling from his body as he walks towards his car. He doesn’t know exactly how he’s moving, even if he’s stumbling on his own two feet and colliding into stranger’s bodies as he does so, he doesn’t understand how his body finds the strength to keep moving.

Y/n moved on. Y/n’s dating Dan. Y/n gave his ring to him. It’s all over, everything is over.

“No” he mumbles frantically, jealously flowing in his veins, chest heaving from the sobs that are threatening to spill out of him, “no, no no no.”

He starts to wonder where he’s missed it, and exactly how long it’s been since Y/n moved on. She was so broken at the grocery store the other week; what could have possibly altered her feelings that quickly? Did Dan really impact her that much?

But that’s his girl. Y/n is his girl, she’s the one he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Even with Jessica, even with everything that’s happened, Y/n is his soulmate, and there isn’t anything in the world that can convince him otherwise.

Nobody is going to take her from him. He refuses to believe she belongs to somebody that isn’t him; there isn’t an atom in his body that doubts their companionship.

Before he thinks twice—before he really gives himself a chance to stop himself—Harry slides his cell phone out of his back pocket once he reaches his car. He slumps against the hood as his fingers work furiously across his screen.

There has to be something, at least some sort of proof that this is really happening to him, that this isn’t in a nightmare he can easily wake himself out of. There had to have been a hint, a warning for him to have. She would have never moved on without saying something to him. They were so strong together, she would have never left without closure.

Nothing about it makes sense.

And then, he sees it.

He falls to his knees, hitting the concrete harshly below him. His body gave out from beneath him, his muscles and bones failing him.

It’s there, right in front of him, mocking him and all the shitty decisions he’s made. It’s there—on Y/n’s private Instagram page—a picture of Dan holding Y/n’s hand on top of a table in Monmouth, Harry’s ring wrapped perfectly around his pointer finger.

Steele rose has never looked so good xx.

Something about Fate

Dean decides to go to a new psychic in town - just for the hell of it, of course - with his roommate Castiel, and doesn’t get the reading he was expecting.

~5.2k

AO3

“Hey, Cas, have you ever been to a psychic?”

Dean watched as Castiel looked up from his book with his eyebrows pinched together.

“No.” A pause. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged.

“Garth texted me. Apparently there’s one in town that he went to yesterday and he’s obsessed. He said she really knows her stuff.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow before returning his attention to the textbook he had sprawled across their kitchen counter, so he could eat and study at the same time - a sight that was not all that uncommon in their apartment.

“Psychics don’t exists, Dean,” he said, matter-of-factly, as he turned the page. “People who claim to be psychic are scammers hoping to draw in the desperate or the gullible. Garth is the latter, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, he’s not -”

“Remember when Gabriel told him that stop signs with a white rim around them were optional?”

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out a stool on the opposite side of the counter from his roommate.

“Duh, Cas. I know that they aren’t legit. Everyone does. But at the very least they’re supposed to be super good at reading people and then you essentially pay them to tell you what their first impression of you is.”

A small smile crept its way across Castiel’s face.

“I could tell you that for free, you know.”

Dean flipped him off as he got up and pulled out an apple from the refrigerator, not even bothering to look back as he did so.

“Whatever. I think it could be kind of cool.”

“Then by all means…” Castiel wrote something down in a notepad and flipped to the next page. “I think you should do it. I have free time tomorrow if you’d like to find this psychic then.”

Dean tossed the apple between his hands.

“You’d come with me?”

“Of course. I would never miss the opportunity to witness someone predicting your death.”

Castiel laughed as Dean flipped him off again.

Keep reading

SKAM S04E09 Clip 2 - Your turn

[EVA: No, I still haven’t heard anything…. And you?

SANA: No, have you made Chris call William?

EVA: William isn’t answering either….

EVA: But think about it, they’ve been apart for a very long time, they’re probably just chilling, and don’t give a fuck about anyone else]

[BALLOON BOYS TALKING AND YELLING ABOUT THE GAME]

YOUSEF: Elias, try it.

MUTASIM: I’m so bad at this.

SANA: Hey.

ADAM: What’s up, Sana? Yoy doing well?

MUTASIM: Join us!

ELIAS: Join? We’re in the middle of a tournament. She can join later.

MUTASIM: Mikael, your turn.

MIKAEL: Easily.

Keep reading

thegirlwhocriesice  asked:

Au where Lance really can't stand his real last name. So he faked paper for the grasion with last name McLain?

I’m so sorry for the lateness of this! This prompt was given to me a long, long time ago and I just only got the um…inspiration to write this? I’m so sorry!

A little bit crossover to KHR since I made this into a MafiaAU of sorts. Note that most or all the things mentioned here (aside from the names they are not mine) are purely from my imagination and should not be taken with any ounce of seriousness.


Lance loved his family with all his heart, never question him about this or you will find yourself with a bullet stuck to any part of your body. What he didn’t appreciate was the part of the society he was born in. more specifically, the dark part of the society he was born in.

The Salazar Family was one of the best known Mafia family in the underworld. Who would not heard of them when they were one of the allies of the strongest Mafia, the Vongola? Being allied with the Vongola also meant that they were associates with the Chiavarone, Simon, Giglio Nero, and Millefiore just to name some of the big names. There was never a peaceful day for Lance for everyday was either spent on training or learning the ways of the world and how to survive in it.

The only lucky thing that Lance could consider was that he was not the eldest, thus exempting him from being the next heir for the family. It was unfair to be happy about this, especially that it was his reluctant older brother who got stuck in that position, but the part that wanted to be free weighed more in Lance’s heart. So at the age of 16th, Lance made a proposition and have the full support of the Vongola Decimo. The Salazar’s Don was a bit reluctant to agree in erasing Lance’s existence in the Mafia world (and that Lance was one of their best strategists) but just one look in his son’s eyes, one full of hope and passion in achieving his dreams, the Don gave his blessings also.

So Lance Salazar, third son of Don Salazar, became Lance McClain, an ordinary boy living with an ordinary family.

Forging documents and family background was just a piece of cake in the underworld and in no time, Lance was already attending the Garrison where he hoped his dreams to be a pilot as an ordinary guy would come true.

Of course there were times where his Mafia side got to the surface and times where he wished he could just contact the family and disposed someone for him. But because he ‘cut all his ties’ with the Mafia it also meant that he had no right to contact them anymore (though sometimes one or two men of his father will come to check up on him.). Why did he want to hire a hitman to eliminate someone? Well, there was this guy called Iverson who seemed to make it his life goal to make Lance’s life as miserable as possible. Always pointing out his flaws and implying that all the documents proving his intelligence were all fake/forge.

He could easily kill Iverson now that he thought about it. He was trained to do such things after all ever since he learned how to do complex Math and covering up the evidences was like slicing an apple with a sharp knife. But then the reason he left the world he was initially born in was to escape all the bloodshed. Only heaven knows how much of those bloods were caused by him even if most of them were all in the act of self-defense.

So he tried his best not to let those words of depreciation got stuck in his head (but most time he believed some of it.)

Then the next impulse to hire a hitman was when Lance started to get compared to a genius student named Keith.

Out of curiosity, Lance checked out this Keith guy. Yeah, he was an awesome pilot and combat but that was the only things that Keith was good at, at least that was how Lance saw it. He was never good at socializing and could not really hide his intention despite having a poker face. Keith would be a dead guy if left alone in the underworld.

Lance wanted to show how smart he was but Iverson already put a lot of bad words in his name resulting for no one to take him seriously. If he did something jaw dropping then majority would just accuse him of cheating because ‘hey, this is Lance! No way he did all of that in his own!’.  Being called as Keith’s replacement was not the most flattering words his ears could hear also.

Being caught in an intergalactic war and stuck in a castle with three and a half humans (Keith was half-Galra after all), two Alteans, space mice, and five sentient robotic lions was just like being trapped inside the Mafia world all over again.

Physical training, strategy making, forming alliances, Lance was tempted to call Voltron as space Mafia. He didn’t know if it already registered in the mind of others but they now have blood in their hands. It didn’t matter if it was an enemy they were killing. Life was life and they were not different to other soldiers of war.

Great, now Lance has human blood and alien blood staining his hands.

He thought about this every day.

Until one day, a sudden fact entered Lance’s mind that ended up with him laughing hysterically during breakfast. Everyone was looking at him like he had lost his mind (he probably had a long time ago).

“Lance, buddy, are you okay?” Hunk was about half way from standing up before Lance waved at him to indicate that he was fine.

“Don’t worry, Hunk. I just…pft! Ahahaha!”

Now Shiro was the one with worry creeping on his face. Was Lance having a breakdown? Was the war they were suddenly thrust in now taking its toll in their Blue Paladin’s mind?

“Lance, I need you to take deep breathes and talk to us.” It was hard but Shiro needed to ensure the health of his teammates even if he was being a hypocrite right now.

“Nah, I’m fine, Shiro. I just remembered something.”

“And that is…?” Lance didn’t know who asked that but he happily answered.

“Iverson is dead meat. Actually, he will be lucky if they will allow him to have a quick death. But knowing my family, I am sure they will torture him first.” Lance resumed eating his breakfast with a bright smile and as if he didn’t said something deeply disturbing.

“Wait, what?” Keith narrowed his eyes, “What do you mean by that.”

“Mullet boy, never cross my family.” That was the only answer Lance gave and it did not satisfy the curiosity of his teammates.

Sure, Lance was not a Salazar anymore and that his surname was now McClain. It didn’t mean though that he was already cast out by those he shared with the same flesh and blood.

After all, blood was thicker than water most of the time.


I don’t really know if I did the prompt some justice (>_<)

Langst Mini Fics

Previous / Next

imagine a scenario where Todoroki isn’t completely passed out from Bakugou’s attack, where he’s still awake–but just barely. He can see Bakugou’s blurry figure stomp over to him through the clouds of dust, screaming. And suddenly, he’s being lifted by his shirt.

Imagine Bakugou lifts Todoroki to yell at him, screams at him–how DARE he do this? How DARE that two-faced bastard do this to him, a win like this means NOTHING. It’s worse than losing, because he didn’t win at all, it’s nothing but a hollow shell of a victory, only won because his opponent refused to go all out on him. 

this isn’t what Bakugou wanted. This isn’t what he wanted at all. he wanted to prove himself, to defeat Two-Face with his own power, with his own skill, not–not this. Not a victory where fucking Two-Face just…. gives up. Refused to fight him. Didn’t see him as worthy to fight…

Wasn’t he strong enough? What the fuck. Why. Why couldn’t Todoroki just fight him all out, use his goddamn flames like he did with Deku, always Deku, why not him, goddammit, why, why, why

Todoroki squints through the dust, trying to focus on the face in front of him. His eyes widen–it’s Bakugou, of course it is, who else yells like him? But it’s not the yelling that’s a surprise, it’s the expression. Bakugou’s face is screwed up, red and angry… and his cheeks are wet with tears.

He’s sobbing

Bakugou continues to rant and yell at Todoroki, but it all sounds like white noise. All he can see are the tears running down Bakugou’s face, the quivering lips, the shaking eyebrows that are tilted together in an arc that looks less like anger, and more like desperate frustration. 

Some of the tears fall on Todoroki’s chest. He doesn’t notice. 

“ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, YOU BASTARD?!” Bakugou shrieks, voice cracking in the middle, shaking Todoroki from his thoughts both literally and physically. Bakugou is huffing and crying and glaring wet red eyes at him, waiting for an answer.

Todoroki feels something heavy in his chest. he’s not sure what it is. He’s just so full of confusing emotions–after his fight with Midoriya, after forgetting for just those few moments, after using his fire side for the first time, after remembering why he wanted to become a hero in the first place… after everything

It’s been an emotionally exhausting day. He’s confused. Conflicted. He doesn’t really know what to do.

He’s never been very good at understanding others. Apparently he was never very good at understanding himself, either. At least until someone made him remember. Until Midoriya made him remember. 

But right now, Bakugou is right here, right in his face, sobbing, and Todoroki feels like he owes him an answer. He’s not sure what to say.

What would a hero do?

Todoroki locks tired eyes with Bakugou. He tenses, baring his teeth.

Todoroki parts his lips.

“Are you alri…”

The words never get out, as a sweet smelling mist drapes over them like a soft blanket. Within seconds, Bakugou’s grip on Todoroki’s shirt loosens and both boys collapse, out cold. 

-

The next time Todoroki sees Bakugou, he’s chained against a pillar, raging like a madman, howling as loudly as he can with a muzzle strapped to his face, and glaring daggers at anything and everything. 

There are no tears to be found.

Did he imagine it? Todoroki looks down at his palm and curls his fingers.

He’s still confused. Still conflicted. All Might helped him a little… he just needed time to sort things out. Needed time to look at himself… remember why he wanted to be a hero. He… he needed to see his mother again. 

(When was the last time he had a hug?)

(… When was the last time he hugged her?)

When All Might turns to Bakugou and removes the muzzle, Todoroki watches quietly from the corner of his eye. 

Bakugou rages. He yells. He screams and shouts and refuses the medal All Might so valiantly tries to hang around his neck, fighting against it like a man fighting a noose.

“EVEN IF SOCIETY ACKNOWLEDGES IT, IF I DON’T THEN IT’S TRASH!!!

The medal is hangs in between clenched teeth, and Todoroki decides that no, he didn’t imagine it. Even if he didn’t quiet understand, still doesn’t, those tears were real. He looks down at his clenched fist. 

I’m sorry, Bakugou. He thinks. 

There isn’t anything he can do here. He couldn’t give Bakugou the fight he wanted. He…

Todoroki looked up at the sky.

He’s going to see his mother tomorrow. 

(so i wanted to write a scenario where Todoroki actually saw Bakugou crying before Midnight’s made him pass out, and it kinda became this, oops)

Commission for @inarelashionshipwithmyself


Lance had been cranky the last few weeks. On it’s own that wasn’t too unusual, Lance got cranky about the weirdest things.
About running out of the good face masks and having to use different ones that Allura gave him. About the mice not being in the mood to play with him when he wanted. About getting too little sleep. About getting too much sleep. About an alien he’d never seen before and never would again rejecting his embarrassing advances.
But usually his mood brightened again as quickly as it had soured and this lasting slump was starting to worry them.

Keith wasn’t the first who’d noticed it, he hardly ever was when it came to these things. But after Hunk had addressed Lance’s recent attitude and he’d started to pay attention, the signs couldn’t be ignored anymore.
Usually Lance chattered endlessly during their meals and meetings, now he hardly ever said a word, leaving the group as soon as he could where he’d despised being alone for long periods before.
He seemed tense during training sessions, focused but way too stubborn to really make anything out of it, the slightest mistake throwing him off for the whole day. Keith had caught him more than once on the training deck, using it late into the night, expression hardened and determined.

Whenever Hunk or Shiro or, lately, even Allura tried to talk to him he’d put on a cheery mask and pretend everything was fine before retreating to the shooting range to utterly destroy every target the ship gave him.
Keith didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to reach Lance if not even their most empathetic team members could. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he heard the reports about the Kerberos mission failing.
Until the afternoon he was paired up with Lance for hand to hand combat training.

“That’s – okay, that’s enough”, Lance spat, squirming helplessly where Keith had him pinned, one hand tapping a fluttery rhythm against the floor. “I yield! Fuck, I yield!”
Keith furrowed his brows, not used to the other boy giving in this easily, but he still stepped back, offering Lance a hand to help him get up.
Lance scoffed and slapped the hand away, pushing himself upright. Frown deepening Keith watched him.

“You okay?”, he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. They’d been sparring for a while already. Where Lance had been almost tenacious in the beginning the fire in his eyes had subsided with every failed try to overpower Keith, every time it was him tapping the mat instead.
Now he leveled Keith with an icy glare but instead of getting back into stance he turned away.
“Leave me alone”, he mumbled before he left the training deck.

Shiro perked up from where he was pinning Hunk against the floor, the yellow paladin about to twist free from the hold and counter it when he also noticed Lance’s retreat.
Allura stepped forward, hands on her hips as she called after him: “Lance! Lance, we’re not done, where do you think you’re…”
“It’s okay!”, Hunk called, having used the distraction to free himself and scramble to his feet. “It’s okay, I’ll go get him!”

“No”, Keith said, body moving before he could even think about it. “I’ll go, I’ll talk to him…” He could feel their eyes on him, skeptical and unsure. Could hear the breath Hunk took, the careful “Um, Keith buddy…”
But he just shook his head, going for the doors.
“I got this.”

As expected he found Lance in his room, already changed halfway out of his armor, the leg pieces still clinging to his body.
“I told you to leave me alone”, Lance mumbled, no emotion to be heard in his voice, but Keith still stepped further into the room, arms crossed and face determined.
“Yeah”, he answered, taking a look at the helmet and armor pieces Lance had put on the table for now. “But I wanna know what your deal is. You’ve been … weird.”
Lance huffed a dry laugh and shook his head.
“I’ve been…? No. Nothing. No deal, everything’s just … peachy.”

“Bullshit.” Keith shook his head. “You can tell Hunk and Shiro that. Because they want to … respect your privacy or whatever. But something’s wrong. I wanna know what.”
Lance groaned, throwing another armor piece onto the table.
“What, so you can feel even better about yourself? Just go away!”
Keith huffed and leaned a hip against the desk, trying to catch Lance’s gaze but the blue paladin already turned away from him again.

“Listen”, he began, not quite sure where this would lead but just going with it for now. “Just because you can’t beat me at hand to hand doesn’t mean…”
“Hand to hand? What can I beat you at then?”, Lance spat, whirling around to finally meet Keith’s gaze and there it was again, that fire he’d seen at the beginning of the training session. “You’re the amazing pilot, the martial arts expert, the brave one everybody loves and wants to be like! What else is there, what else … what else can I contribute?”
Keith frowned.

“You … you want to be like me?”
“Oh piss off!”, Lance cursed, turning away again with an exasperated huff. Slowly but surely Keith began to suspect he really wasn’t the right one for this job, that he was only making worse. Maybe he should retreat and send one of the others instead, to settle what he’d done wrong.
“I’m … I’m not good at this”, he began, already setting up to excuse himself when he had an idea. “At uh … talking to people. When they’re upset.”
“Oh really…” Lance’s voice was dripping with sarcasm but Keith pressed on.

“Or just in general. I just can’t seem to … connect with others. I’m not good at that. You are.”
Even though Lance’s back was turned to him Keith could see how he froze, head tilted a little. Listening. He took his chance and went on.
“Remember when we were on that desert planet and neither Pidge nor me could convince the aliens to let us evacuate them? But then you came in and only needed two minutes with their leader to make them trust us?”

Lance shook his head.
“You were still wearing your helmets, that was rude to them.”
“Yeah but we didn’t know! We never would have figured that out if you hadn’t!” Keith took a careful step forward, around Lance, to look at him again. Some of the tension had seeped out of the other boy’s shoulders and his expression wasn’t quite as hardened as before.
“Yeah”, Lance mumbled. “You guys would’ve been lost without me.”
“We would have been!”, Keith insisted, still not sure what he was doing, only that it seemed to work at least a little.

“And … and that’s not the only thing! You’re … you’re a great shot. An incredible shot! There’s a reason your bayard is a rifle and mine is for close combat. You’re our long range guy, yeah? You don’t have to beat me at hand to hand when you can beat me in a shooting competition any day. And your bond with your lion…”
That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Lance rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Yours is better. The things Red does for you, it’s crazy…”

“Oh god!”, Keith groaned, throwing his arms out. “Stop comparing yourself to me! You’re your own person! And you bring your own skills to the team! We all need you and if you can’t see how much Blue adores you, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought!”
There was a pause, Lance squinting at him as if deciding to trust him or not. Keith stubbornly held the gaze.

“You mean that, don’t you?”, Lance asked after a while, expression shifting from suspicious to thoughtful. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting down on it.
“In case you haven’t noticed”, Keith said, posture relaxing again. “I’m also a really bad liar.”
Lance huffed another dry laugh at that but the creases around his eyes vanished as he relaxed.
“You really are”, he smiled tentatively and Keith couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at him. Not when he just coaxed a smile out of Lance. The first one in weeks.

Then Lance reached out to take his hand, squeezing it tightly, and Keith was way too surprised to react. The grip around his fingers was strong and warm, oddly pleasant.
“Come with me”, Lance said, tugging him towards the door without a care in the world for his half dismantled armor.
“What … where…”
“Shooting range”, Lance answered, completely nonchalant with a little shrug. “Wanna beat your ass at something right now.”
Keith snorted but let himself be dragged away. If that’s all it took to make Lance smile again he’d lose a hundred shooting competitions against him.


[This fanfic was a commission! Check out how to commission me or consider buying me a Coffee if you liked this story!]

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OMGGG I love Goth so much but I just can’t see Reaper and Geno as model parents XD

15 - THE FAMILY - Geno with Reaper & Goth. The whole family’s here

I used MS Gothic as the font for @nekophy‘s baby, Goth.

Bonus points because today is my father’s birthday, he was such an inspiration for this ♡

Know your memes…

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The Final Problem is bad and boring and here is why

I had to rewatch TFP yesterday (IN GERMAN!) with a bunch of friends. I hadn’t watched it after it aired in January, and it had developed into some kind of uber-evil episode for me. Because it ruined the whole show for me. Because it didn’t make any sense. I remembered it as tense and brutal. But, you know what - it isn’t. It’s just really, really boring and very badly done.

Because:

Do yourself a favour and watch the Why Sherlock is Garbage video. Watch the whole of it, especially the first hour. Because there he explains why Mofftiss are really bad writers for television. One point in their favour I see over and over again is that Mofftiss couldn’t suddenly have forgotten how to write good telly, therefore Sherlock, especially S4, and especially TFP, must have a deeper meaning, are fake, a social experiment, whatever. Just: NO! This argument crashes - because they are really bad writers. They are very good at coming over as clever for a while - but in the end it’s revealed that there is nothing behind all the suspense they are building, that all their arcs lead nowhere, that nothing means anything or has any consequences. The guy explains this by analysing DW and Jekyll - and you find all of this in Sherlock as well. Like, they constantly up the ante - but with no plan or goal in mind, just for the sake of it. Or that the most important moments of the stories happen off screen. Or that they don’t follow the basic rule of show, don’t tell. Or that they never explore their characters’ motivations. We never learn why people do anything on this show. I will talk about this later. Those are basic writing skills! And they just throw them overboard. Which is not a very good idea.

Me, spewing an angry rant, below the cut. 

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