autocorrect errors

~Another LawLicht One Shot~

It had been a while since Licht had felt that way. Shaking, his palm sweaty, his chest tight, his knees buckling and he felt sick.

Licht was nervous. It was really stupid, he’d performed so many times in front of much bigger audiences. He almost felt insulted that he still had stage fright, being the exceptional pianist that he was.

Then again, that meant there was many more people to disappoint…

Licht tried not to think about it, but soon his mind slipped away…

Hyde was watching him, comfortably sitting on the couch with his arms and legs crossed.

He had his usual smug smile on his lips, which always made Licht furious, but in that situation it just made him more sick.

“What are you staring at, you shit rat?” Licht spat. Maybe yelling at Hyde would calm his nerves? He didn’t know. He wasn’t thinking properly.

Hyde stood up, slowly making his way over. “My Angel seems anxious.”

Licht scoffed. “I don’t get anxious. That’s because I’m an Angel–” He was about to strike a pose when he felt his wrists being taken. Licht was suddenly aware of how close Hyde had gotten.

“What do you think you’re doing!?” Licht snapped.

“I hate to see you like this, Licht-tan. I can help.” Hyde grinned.

Licht glanced at him skeptically. He didn’t like the idea, even though he actually didn’t know what Hyde was planning.

Hyde changed forms. Suddenly, in Licht’s hands lay a curled up, tiny hedgehog.

Licht made a disgusted face. “How do you think this will help?” Licht didn’t even finish his sentence when he realized something - Hyde’s tummy was extremely soft.

Licht had never held Hyde that way before. Actually, he had never held him, other than that once when he picked him up from the street.

Holding Hyde carefully in his shaky palm, Licht ran his fingertips over the soft fur.
Hyde let out a high-pitched noise. It sounded like a giggle.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish,” said Licht maliciously.

“No one knows!” Hyde squeaked, “No one’s ever done this to me!”

Licht smiled faintly. He sat on the couch and placed Hyde upside down on it, so that he couldn’t roll over or get up. But even though he was lying on his spikes and couldn’t reach the ground, Hyde didn’t complain. He let Licht pet him, causing Hyde to giggle every once in a while.

Licht felt himself settle down. His heart was no longer threatening to burst out of his chest. The shaking soon stopped as well, and he no longer felt sick.

The strangest thing was that Licht didn’t find Hyde annoying at the moment. In fact, Licht enjoyed his company and felt grateful that Hyde let him so close.

Hyde was enjoying himself as well. At first he couldn’t relax, not being used to anyone touching him like that. For him, it was a risk to let Licht touch him at all, especially there. In a weird way, Hyde didn’t expect Licht to be as gentle as he was. He had only proposed to be pet because he saw Licht’s nervousness, but he couldn’t have imagined that he would also be the one to relax from a tension he didn’t even realize was there.

Moments passed as Hyde and Licht enjoyed the comfortable silence and their closeness.

Until there was a knock on the door. Kranz went in to inform Licht that he’d be performing in a few minutes.

Licht nodded and stood up, leaving Hyde on the couch.

The hedgehog started trashing, wiggling his short arms and legs. “Hey, you can’t just leave me here! Help me up!”

“Get up yourself!” Licht said as he stood in front of the mirror once more before he would go out.

Soon enough, Hyde changed forms again, sitting on the couch in his previous position. Before Licht had the chance to walk out, Hyde stood in his path.

“Good luck,” said Hyde, smiling softly. There was no hostility between them, as if the moment of fondness was stretching out. But Licht felt slightly uncomfortable and wanted the moment gone.

Despite this… At the same time he liked it. He wanted to reach out, but something wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t like him to initiate physical contact. It was probably enough fondness for the day.

Licht thought about taking it slow. Then caught himself, because there was nothing to be taken slowly. Nothing between him and Hyde.

As if reading his mind, Hyde wrapped his arms around Licht and gave him a light side-hug. It made Licht realize how starved for affection he really was. He enjoyed the brief moment, but didn’t dare show that he wanted it to last longer.

When he pulled away, Hyde was smirking. Licht wasn’t sure what to expect.

“I can give you something to help your anxiousness while I’m away and you can’t pet me,” said Hyde.

“That’s fine, you’ve already–”

Licht was cut off by Hyde’s lips pressing against his.

Another brief moment that Licht wanted to last. But Hyde pulled away quickly, considerate of Licht’s limits.

“For luck,” he winked, “You can pet me again when you get back.”

Licht didn’t know how to respond. As his cheeks turned bright red he just pushed Hyde out of the way and stormed off, still being able to hear the Servamp’s chuckling.

@just-servamp-trash Here it is, what we’ve discussed uwu

This turned out a lot better than I thought it would, after some editing. Then you can imagine how shitty the original was lol

P. S. Please excuse my awkward spelling errors, I’ll fix them as soon as I reach my computer, I really can’t do that from this small laptop with no autocorrect ;-;

Update: Spelling errors corrected! I hope I got all of them >.<

On the topic of that Asian accent post I just reblogged, in class a few weeks ago, we were watching a video and a Chinese guy with a thick accent came on the screen and I could just hear the kids around me snickering.
Like give me a fucking break your stupid ass is probably failing English right now if you can’t even pass a class on your own native language then proceed to mock others for having an “accent” then you need to sit the fuck down and shut the hell up.

I realize I may post about being drunk a bunch

but you must realize that my tolerance is SHIT since having a baby


it was always shit, I lied

I had to put myself on a drinking regimen so I wouldn’t get drunkysleepy. on my WEDDING DAY


(also I’ve been watching a lot of Brooklyn 99 so I am hearing this part in Andy Samberg’s voice)

and all the parts out of the parentheses in ANDRE BRAUGHER’S


oh my god yall

I made some white sangria with st Germaine and white wine and seltzer and so many berries and it has been sitting my fridge for THREE DAYS (now I’m Terry Crews)

do you know how drunke these berries are

I am mottling like a hunted chameleon in the jungle

I am spotting like the leopard in that Rudyard Kipling story

(because that’s what happens when I get toasted, hell year asian genes)

and I just remembered there are stairs in my house

who would do that to a hose???

and now I am just getting all panicked and sad about my dimisnied abouts of free time

I just goofed off like a motherfucker when I was pregnant

why didn’t I do it more


(goddamn first trimester, it’s not like I can store that shit up)

(I would love to though, wouldn’t that be the best

(still Andy sambaed)

and now it’s like…worse (now I’m Christina perrtti why can’t I be consistent)

WORSE let me tell you

because I am going to try getting pregnant again and this means even less sleep

and more things like my baby escaping his bed Turing nap time and biting off all the tips on the Toblerone bar on my husband’s desk

(JUST the tips. he woke up his daddy with a big chocolate smile all over his face)

and like… oh my god… could I just write and draw more

why is it so haaard

I want to do both things but something is just not connecting and it INFUUUURIATES MEEEE

oh ahit I’m teaching a class tomorrow


I’ve never been so genuinely confused in my life. Why the fuck is Trump’s misspelling on a tweet more important than what he’s currently engaging in? I literally find nothing funny about an autocorrect error on a twitter account ESPECIALLY FROM HIM.

Has nobody caught the pattern he does ridiculous stuff on Twitter days before events that he wants to pass by unnoticed? The world collectively does not trust him, yet no one questions why the media is pushing a narrative of “haha he had an autocorrect mistake let’s make fun of him” and allowing that to dominate the conversation??? I’m so upset by this! This is why we need to stop roasting him and fucking IMPEACHING HIM.

Heads up

I wanted to give you guys a heads up. You will notice A LOT of typos from me for the next month or two as I have made the mistake of being persuaded to getting my nails done. I, a female that is not too fond of nail care and makeup, cannot TYPE FOR SHIT with fake nails. Or do much of anything else for that matter. Fortunately, I am currently typing this on mobile which gives me autocorrect. It will be error free. 

 That is all. You may now continue with your scrolling and have yourselves a wonderful day!

Originally posted by arianagrande-fashionstyle

AN: Okay, so I suck. I keep on saying ‘tomorrow I will have my laptop!’ And stuff, but I just learned that I won’t be able to get my hands on it until AT LEAST Friday, which sucks. So, you guys will just have to live with oddly formatted, gif less, blah imagines until then. UGHHHH. Anyway, thank you so so so much justang6 for requesting this imagine. *The photo is not mine, found on google. Please ignore any spelling and autocorrect errors! Xoxoxoxo :3

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Prompt: After a long day of training with Nat, all the reader wants to do is cuddle with Bucky and fall asleep in his arm, then get breakfast from a cute little cafe early the next morning. :) ❤️

((This imagine is literally going to be just piles of fluff, you have been warned))


Your shoulder skimmed the wall as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom. You grunted in pain and pressed your hand over your shirt on your side, you hadn’t even looked, but you could tell that you were probably sporting a pretty big bruise.

Natasha did not play nicely when it came to training. The entire day was an entire test, she was always pushing you way past your limits and surprising you when you least excepted it. The hardest hit you took was when she roundhouse kicked you in your side by your stomach, which was the origin of the forming bruise.

You slowly made your way to the bedroom, and you were greeted with the sight of shirtless Bucky reclining in your office chair, his feet kicked up on your desk and a newspaper in his hands. A dim, orangish lite illuminated the room from the small bedside lamp that you had.

“How was training, doll?” He asked with a toothy grin, resting the paper he was reading in his lap.

You just grunted in response, resting your bum on the corner of the bed and biting your lip when the pain resurfaced.

“That bad?” Bucky asked, then gestured to you. “C'mere, little old Bucky wants to hold you and make it all better.”

You slowly got up and walked the few steps to get over to him. He put his feet on the ground and set the paper on the desk, then he tugged you to sit on his lap.

“Nat didn’t give me a break today.” You complained. “It was one thing after another, and each one was more painful than the last.”

“Where does it hurt the most, baby?”

You smiled at his cute little nickname, then gestured to your side. Bucky gently lifted the side of your shirt to see, revealing a rather nasty looking bruise.

He frowned and carefully ran his metal fingers over the oddly colored skin, making you shiver at his cold touch. “You need to tell Natasha that she needs to go easier on you, this is absolutely outrageous.”

You rolled your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder. “She didn’t mean to kick me that hard, I slipped up and didn’t dodge her attack like I should have. She is just training me like she is supposed to.”

“I still don’t like it, Y/N.” He muttered as he pulled your shirt back down and laced his metal hand in yours. His chest hummed in delight as you snuggled up to him and fluttered your eyes shut.

His free hand, the still in-tact one, gently ran up and down your shoulder and arms. “Can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow morning?”

Sighing with your eyes still shut, you muttered sleepily, “I have training in the morning.”

“With who?”

“Steve.” You said, with a note of relief. Steve was always a little easier on who he was training that Nat was.

Bucky let out a small chuckle. “Then don’t worry about it, doll. I’ll get Steve to let you off the hook, easy.”

You could help yourself– ignoring your pain, you twisted to face him directly and smiled. He grinned back at you and planted a warm, loving kiss on your lips.

Lifting you up and careful not to touch your bruises, Bucky set you on the bed and pulled the covers over you. After picking up some of the things he had out around the room, he climbed in next to you and wrapped his arms around your stomach loosely.


You woke up to someone gently nudging your shoulders, which drew you out of your peaceful sleep.

“Wake up…” You heard. “Wake up, baby doll…”

Bucky was whispering in your ear as he brought you back into the world of the living, he wanted to be careful not to scar you by being too loud.

Even before you opened your eyes, the pain consumed a good portion of your body. You groaned loudly and cringed, nearly gasping at how much your side throbbed.

“Shhh…” Bucky hushed softly, petting your hair. “Today is going to hurt a lot more than it did yesterday, I already got you some painkillers to start the day off.”

Swallowing, you nodded and opened your eyes. Bucky was sitting on the side of the bed with his pajama pants on still, his longer brown hair messily tied back into a small ponytail on the back of his head. His arms were on either side of your head as he looked down at you with a sad smile.

“I can carry you to the breakfast place if you want.” Bucky offered.

You imagined him holding you like a child as he walked down the street, as if the metal arm didn’t already draw enough attention.

“I can walk.” You said stubbornly. He chuckled lightly, then took your hand in his and you slowly slid out of the bed.

After a long time of trying to put on your clothes, Bucky saw that it wasn’t working very well and decided to finish dressing you. You scoffed at him (you were an independent women, after all), but secretly you knew that it wasn’t worth all of the pain in doing it yourself.

Bucky looped his arm in yours and helped you walk down the busy streets until you came across a small cafe that the two of you had often gone on dates to.

Just like a gentlemen, he opened the door for you and led you to the usual table in the corner by the windows.

You sat down and soaked in all the natural light that the windows had to offer, earning you a light sigh and a hand holding yours on top of the table from the boy across from you. “I really do love you, Y/N.”

You grinned and squeezed his fingers. “I really do love you too, Bucky bear.”

The two of you ordered and relaxed, sipping your teas and coffees as you watched the blue sky and clouds pass by out the window. Despite how busy the streets looked, inside the cafe is was quite and serene.

Suddenly, you didn’t really feel the pain any more.

Yay! It turned out really good! (I actually had to add the blur during photoshop class because whenever I did it in my photos library, it would turn it into a jpeg and the artifacting was hideous.)

@loverofpiggies @askerrorsans (how does one show things to cq???)

Edit: accidentally got the eye colors backwards! Whoops.

anonymous asked:

You replied to me in January about me getting into this really cool writers program and I just wanted to thank you for your lengthly reply. It has really helped me. I still have it as my home and lock screen to rea d when I'm down! Anyways. Thank you for all the happiness you spread. you're seriously great role model. Also sorry for crappy spelling errors! My autocorrect makes no sense and my backspace is broken. I hope you're enjoying your day:)

Awwww, that is just the sweetest thing!  I’m happy to have helped in whatever small way I did.  Many good wishes for your continued success and a cooperative muse!

sunflowerta  asked:

Sorry I think I caught an autocorrect error right after I hit ask! I wanted to ask, in your opinion, what kind of person would make a good paediatric resident?

I’m gonna open this question up to Dr. morebaffledlessbrooklyn, who would know a lot more than me about what makes a good peds resident. 

But here’s my suggestions for things that are important in peds:

  • liking kids and being able to relate to them & put them at ease
  • being able to communicate well with parents
  • loving preventive care
  • large collection of festive bowties or fun socks
  • strong sense of advocacy for their patients and all children
  • the “less is more” mentality when it comes to prescribing and invasive testing (and thus, strong clinical skills)
  • stickers.
  • enjoys teaching of patients and parents
  • an interest in disease processes like metabolic, genetic, and developmental disorders
  • able to manage sad and difficult situations with compassion and calmness under pressure
  • decent basic math abilities
  • extensive knowledge of current cartoon, princess, and superhero storylines

AN: I hope to have my laptop back later tomorrow night (???) so when I do I can hopefully add all the recent imagines onto the master list and start posting with gifs again 😍. Thank you anon for sending me this request! I hope you like it love! *i do not own the picture, found on google. PLEASE ignore any and all sleeping and autocorrect errors! Xoxoxoxoxo :3

Pairing: Pietro (AoU) X Reader

Prompt: Hi I love your work can I please have a imagine were the reader tells pietro that they’re pregnant

((I am going to do this one a little different than the request. I have already had one or two pregnant reader ones, so I am going to focus mainly on what Pietro would be like as a father ^_^ I hope that is okay!))

Warning: a lot of mentions of puke (not the rainbows and glitter kind either)

~“Papa Maximoff”~

You sucked in some air as you rolled on your side to try to ease the shifting in your stomach. Your belly had been upset all day, but the pain had hit its peak, forcing you to excuse yourself from your training with Steve and retire to your room early.

Nausea came in waves, you could practically feel your face getting green. You tried the normal things; you took a shower, drank some hot tea, swallowed a few stomach-relief pills, but none of it lifted the blanket of sickness that seemed to suffocate you.

You rested your head on one of the pillows on your bed and flicked on your TV. Nothing good was on, so you just settled on watching the local news cast tell you about the weather. Honestly, you didn’t care what you were watching, you just needed a distraction.

“Babe, you in here?”

“Come in.” You called to Pietro on the other side of the door, groaning as your stomach rumbled and shifted uncomfortably.

“You just disappeared, I thought you were in training?”

Pietro crawled onto the bed and snuggled up to your side, wrapping his arms loosely around you.

Pietro was always very loving and caring for you, something that he rarely showed used on anyone else apart from his twin sister. The two of you had grown quite close since you were introduced to the Avengers program, and eventually (after a few weeks of flirting) you got enough nerve to ask him out. Months had passed since then, and everything was absolutely perfect between the two of you.

“Sorry I left without telling you, I thought I was going to up-chuck on the gym floor.” You said, rubbing your tired eyes with the back of your hand.

“You are sick, dragul meu?” He gently rolled you over so that you two were both on your sides on the bed, facing each other. He ran his fingers over your forehead softly, murmuring, “You look pale, love.”

A large wave of nausea hit you faster than you ever thought possible, causing your eyes to go wide and your belly to twist violently. You shot up into a sitting position on your bed and covered your mouth with your hand, and eventually whatever threaded to come back up slowly settled back to where it was.

Pietro rubbed your back and brought over a garbage can next to the bed, in case you needed it.

“I am going to take you to Bruce so he can check to see what is wrong.” Pietro told you.

“Oh, don’t bother Bruce because of me. I am sure he has more important things to do than tell me I have the flu.”

Pietro ignored your weak words of protest and hooked one arm under your legs and another around your back, pulling you onto his chest and away from the bed.

You pointed to the fuzzy blanket folded at the bottom of your bed, Pietro nodded and snatched the blanket up, tucking you in it like a small baby. You took in its homey smell and familiar touch, and tried to make it ease your discomfort.

Pietro zoomed out of the room and down a few floors to Bruce’s lab. You groaned and rolled your head back against his shoulder as the quick motion of his running hit you, making the bile rise up in your stomach again.

“Sorry about that, love.” He muttered as he looked down at you and rubbed your arms comfortingly.

You saw Bruce get up from his seat at a desk and take his glasses off, a concerned expression falling on his face when he saw the state you were in.

Wordlessly, he cleared some papers and loose things off of a metal lab table and gestured for Pietro to set you down there. You shuttered at the loss of contact when Pietro reluctantly placed you down on the cool surface.

Pietro smiled regretfully at you and helped you wrap the blanket around your shoulders as Bruce gathered some medical supplies.

After a few tests and hours of questions, Bruce drew a conclusion: You, Y/N, were pregnant with Pietro Maximoff’s baby.

~About 19 Months Later~

Willow was just reaching the ten month mark of her her life, and even still, both you and Pietro hadn’t gotten used to having her. Every day there was something new with her, she never stopped surprising you.

“Come here, my baby!” Pietro said with a large grin, which was returned by the little girl a few feet away from him.

You stood next to her with her fingers wrapped around your index to help balance herself as she wobbled on her own two feet.

She awkwardly shifted one foot in front of the other, heavily relying on your grip to keep her up. Giggling, she looked at Pietro with the same bright blue eyes he did.

“Almost there!” He said, holding his arms out to her as she slowly made her way to him.

“P-pa!” Willow struggled to say, jutting a chubby little finger at her father with her free hand, almost as if to tell you where she wanted to go. “Pa!”

Wanda stood in the corner of the room with a small smile twisted onto her red lips, occasionally using her powers to push away small baby toys that were laying on the floor in Willow’s path.

Willow let go of your finger for the last few steps and stumbled foreword, only to fall into Pietro’s waiting arms.

She let out a large laugh as he picked her up and twirled her around. “My baby! Soon you will be running all over the place like me!”

“Pa!” She repeated his name and smiled at him.

You cleared some of the board books and stuffed animals that were scattered along the floor in the aftermath of Pietro’s playtime with Willow.

Wanda came over and helped you, dumping them into a near by plastic toy box. “She is so close to walking on her own Y/N!”

Grinning, you muttered. “Yes, but what if she has a mutation like Pietro? She already has the eyes, and I swore I saw strands of silver in her hair earlier.”

Wanda’s face paled as she thought about a little toddler running around the tower in super speed, along side her brother, always bursting into rooms and fester in the flow.


Both of your heads spun around to see Willow struggling to reach in your direction, her fingers grabbing thin air.

You chuckled and walked over to her, and Pietro reluctantly passed her small, little body over to you. Her mood had changed drastically; she was no longer giggling but rather beginning to cry, and her eyes were brimming with tears.

“I think her teeth are still coming in.” Pietro whispered as he hovered next to the two of you, softly stroking his child’s hair.

Her soft whimpers of pain turned into full out sobbing, and within a single moment Pietro had brought you her binky and her favorite stuffed kitty.

She still hurt, you could tell, but I was no longer unbearable. She clung to her little kitty stuffed animal, named Janie, tightly and snuggled up to your chest.

Pietro leaned his head on your shoulder. “I love her dearly, but any more crying and I think my hair is going to start going grey.”

You snickered lightly and nudge him. “Oh, suck it up Papa Maximoff, this is only the beginning.”

ourqueenandknight-deactivated20  asked:

Ok idk if you take prompts but BOY DO I HAVE ONE ANYWAYS. I was watching Parks and Rec 5x19 and almost died laughing thinking about bellarke in that situation. Bullheaded Clarke trying to go up against Bellamy in a historical live-off? Grumpy friendless Bellamy who complains about the anachronistic fonts the historical society uses? YES PLZ

Yes you are right this is a beautiful prompt and it kind of got away from me in weird ways WHAT ELSE IS NEW. Also on AO3!

Clarke loves her town, she really does.It’s amazing. There is nowhere in the world she’d rather live. It is the best place there is, as far as she’s concerned.

But sometimes–just sometimes!–she wants to murder every single person who lives here and start over from scratch.

“I’m just saying,” says Bellamy, infuriatingly calm and reasonable, “these laws have worked for us for a long time. What gives you the right to just change them whenever you want?”

“Mr. Blake,” says Clarke, and bites back a satisfied grin at his brief scowl of annoyance. They’ve never been that close–he’s a good few years older than she is, so there wasn’t much school overlap, and they run in different circles now–but his sister is a year younger than she is, and they were friends before she left for college, so she certainly knows him well enough to be on a first-name basis. She just likes to piss him off with excessive formality. He likes to piss her off right back, so fair’s fair. “The people gave me the right to change laws. That’s why we have elections.”

“I didn’t vote for you so you could change our historical laws,” he shoots back, and Clarke tries to ignore the odd glow of pride she feels when he says he voted for her. She didn’t really think he liked her that much. He’s been coming to open forums to antagonize her since she got hired on in Parks a few years back; she assumed he was actively campaigning against her, honestly. “Those historical laws are awesome.”

“Awesome,” Clarke repeats, dubious. “This is–look, the law was clearly intended to–”

“I think you should leave historical intent to historians,” he says. “You can do politics.”

“The history is still affecting us today, you fu–”

Wells, who doesn’t even work at City Hall, is the one to cut in. “Okay, great,” he says. “Thanks for coming out, everyone. That’s all the time we have for this open forum, but we’ll post information about the next one as soon as we can.”

Keep reading

Screenshots can also be almost forensic, a way to prove to others that you’re really seeing the crazy stuff you’re seeing. The first viral hit of the screenshot age was the often-filthy autocorrect errors in SMS. Now screenshots hold people accountable for their terrible online words. When Australian videogame reviewer Alanah Pearce was getting harassed online, she discovered that many of her trolls were young boys. She tracked down their mothers and sent a screenshot to one (who then demanded her son handwrite a letter of apology). DC writers eagerly pounce on politicians’ social media faux pas, preserving them before they can vanish down the memory hole—part justice, part gotcha.

Even more arrestingly, though, screenshots let you see other people’s screenworlds, increasingly where we all do our best thinking. They invite a useful voyeurism. Venture capitalist Chris Dixon tweeted a link to an article on how “Nikola Tesla predicted the iPhone” and got 109 retweets; when he tweeted a readable screenshot of the piece, it got over 4,200. Indeed, one of the more delightful aspects of screenshot culture is how often people share text instead of just the clickbaity headline. Developers have strained for years to devise technologies for “collaborative reading.” Now it’s happening organically.

We’re going to need better apps to help us share, sort, and make sense of this new flood. Screenshots are more semantically diverse than typical snapshots, and we already struggle to manage our photo backlog.