bored with everything else

Some quick musings on the new update

thelostspecial.com

Here is the text, with my first thought comments in bold:

I was going to draw this out longer but the truth is, I’m bored.

OK

There is no Lost Special. There never was, and there never will be.

And you know this objectively?

Once again, in their need to keep this midnight train going, TJLC fans created something out of nothing.

Even if that is that case, why do you care?

Seeing this obsession with “The Lost Special,” even though series 4 was clearly over, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to run a sociological experiment with a vicious fandom in denial.

Steven brought it up, not us.  Also, even if the series is over, that doesn’t mean it’s over.  They’ve repeatedly said they have through series 5 mapped out. It was only in December 2016 they started hinting at “we don’t know, this could be it.” Sure Jan.

My poorly assembled website took not more than twenty minutes to cobble together (as some people rightly pointed out) and very little effort to maintain.

This is a lie.  

“By the pricking of my thumbs (something wicked this way comes)”- I edited an ominous message into the code and title, referencing the Macbeth quote used in The Six Thatchers. It was strange to see how many people didn’t recognise the “pricking” quote and even criticised the website because it allegedly didn’t call back to Sherlock in any way- except that I was directly quoting a series 4 episode.

Except most of us did recognize this?  What about your dancing man code reference to Unto the Breach?

Watching fans defend how shoddy the website is, in their need for thelostspecial to be real was especially funny. It was also funny to see the people who guessed the website was fake and said as much, but didn’t even care because they desperately needed something to hold onto, with Sherlock over.

Whichever, why do you care?  Why would it be funny to you?

Then there’s the people who clocked that thelostspecial.com wasn’t “real”… and yet never question their own dedication to TJLC and/or the existence of a fourth episode of series 4, concepts entirely created by Tumblr.

The lost special site was only one of hundreds of indications something is fucky.  

 Anyhow. Next, I threw a random bunch of numbers and photos out there to see how people would scramble and react, and you didn’t let me down. Mostly I chose the first photo I found of a character that I liked the look of, in Google; there wasn’t real logic. I re-used some images out of laziness. I used an online generator to make the Dancing Men/Henry V code post.

So the meanings we found in everything, tying it somehow back to Sherlock, or ACD canon, or anything else were all coincidences?  

What do we say about coincidences?

40, 27, kra, the various “hints” you think you found on the website and found countless possible meanings of, they were chosen at random. Even the elephant photo was chosen at random. It wasn’t until after I edited it into the main website photo that I discovered the poor thing was named Mary and had been shot and executed for killing a man (on 9.13.16. Everyone overthought that one too much.)  So I used that info because it was serendipitous. “The universe is rarely so lazy?” Friends, the universe is often lazy.

“They were chosen at random.”  “The universe is rarely so lazy?

Sure Jan.

When I added a black image with five pixels of colour to the website, you did not let me down. People played with the image until they became convinced it was QR code spelling something out. It was just five meaningless pixels of nothing, created in MS Paint.

Yet you did the whole thing in 20 minutes.

The static gif was taken from a YouTube video of TV static from some movie, with an old Moriarty close-up thrown in.

We know, 28 days later.  With Moriarty loaded in.  Again, whole thing in 20 minutes.

The photo of John and Sherlock sitting in the watery 221B, I got it from Farfarawaysite.com, and scaled it down a little because the photo was large. That’s it. I didn’t change the proportions in any way, or alter the colours, or add anything to the photo. Anything you saw in it, you imagined. I left the big black header on the website as a hint to keep your eye on those, since the thing I changed on 2/11 was in the similar Twitter header.

”That’s it. I didn’t change the proportions in any way, or alter the colours, or add anything to the photo. Anything you saw in it, you imagined.”

Like Murderous Mary being photoshopped into the back picture? Sure Jan: http://whimsicalethnographies.tumblr.com/post/156824256785/221bloodnun-whimsicalethnographies

I changed the plain black header of the Twitter to a black one with a word embedded in it. The profile photo was changed to a plain black photo with XX hidden in it. No one bothered checking it, though clearly the account was active again, so I changed the profile photo to show the Xs, as a hint to look deeper. Finally people found the “clue” today, not that it matters. The word spelled out there is another blind alley that leads nowhere.

Then accept all our follow requests.  

MMTE: The source code message was a hint toward Murderous Mary the Elephant, which some of you guessed but no one looked for it.

murderousmarytheelephant.tumblr.com

(Don’t bother trying to access it, there’s nothing in there.)

DON’T LOOK NOTHING TO SEE HERE, EVEN THOUGH THERE’S A PASSWORD.

There was no set schedule for changes to thelostspecial. I used intermittent reinforcement to keep people frustrated but coming back for more. That’s why I added and removed things at unexpected times. There is no pattern.

Ok?

For people wondering, wow, why would anyone take so much time to do this? Well, I didn’t. Creating the plain black squares with a few letters, throwing a message into the source coding,  and uploading the new website photo of John and Sherlock took maybe 5 minutes. Creating a side blog with no posts and keeping it private takes one minute.

Except the photoshopping you DID do as established would have taken more.  Even searching for the first image you found would have taken time.

Overall, it takes less than twenty minutes a week to do this, once it was set up, because really? You do all the work for me. You all did what TJLCers do best- you took a bunch of random data, inflated it into something much more complicated than it really was, and created your own narrative out of it. Even knowing it might be nothing, and was probably just a fan-made site, you’ve still allowed yourselves to get worked up over it and allowed yourselves to hope. You’re reading into nonsense and finding clues where there are none, and naturally most of those “clues” pointed exactly where you wanted them to point to. Confirmation bias at its finest.

Well all I get from this is that we’re smarter than you are.

Learn from this.

Stop falling into conspiracies. Trust yourself when you can see that something isn’t real or likely. Alternately, find something that doesn’t make you feel sad or heartbroken.

Seriously?  “Trust yourself when you can see that something isn’t real or likely.”

Instincts are to be trusted, John.  

Also, my instincts have gotten me into a pretty good place. I’ll keep trusting them, thanks, and they tell me something is fucky.  We’ve seen this episode before.  

Goddamn you’re arrogant.

A few final notes:

“And in conclusion *jerk off motion*

I was somewhat entertained by the several dozen times people attempted to reset the password for the website and access the control panel. If I was petty, I would’ve logged your IPs and reported you to your ISP. (Don’t worry, I didn’t. I don’t care that much.)’

You cared enough to look.  

I didn’t send the “mole” anons or any other messages on Tumblr. I think other fans decided to join the game. I imagine they’ll continue until they get bored, too.

Read: I can’t say why everything else is fucky too.  Must be more people like me.

The only twitter account connected to thelostspecial.com is twitter.com/thelostspecial. I have no idea who runs the “contact” twitters but I’m positive they’re fan accounts. (If you think BBC-sanctioned accounts would post like that, I have a bridge to sell you.) As for my twitter, I set up the thelostspecial twitter account, followed some BBC-related accounts and left it alone for a week while TJLC fans went wild trying to suss out who I was following. That’s all I did with it.

Then accept my follow request.  Seriously, YOU’RE SO CLEVER I need to follow you to learn your secrets.

I didn’t start thelostspecial Instagram account. Someone else did that, I don’t know who.

Nobody asked.  Actually, I didn’t even know there was an instragram account.  Did anyone else know?

And if you enjoyed hunting, try a legitimate online riddle game, such as Amnesya.com for a challenge! All the fun, none of the TJLC and fandom “fucky” business.

Well, since you brought up “fucky business,” why are they screenshots of the Shrewd Living posts in the “Museum?” Did you do that too? Wow.  In charge of a scam website.  Oh, you don’t know about that?  Then why put it in there?  Why, John?

Nah.

Sherlock Series 4 is over. This is the end.

Thanks for playing TheLostSpecial! Goodbye and God bless.

Seriously, we’ve seen this episode before.

WE’VE SEEN THIS EPISODE BEFORE.

*crawls out of a hole again* HI

I’m so so sorry about the lack of updates..!
… I’ll be honest: Skyrim has once again consumed my life and my soul so I kind of forgot about everything else for a while haha 

CONFESSION: 

I feel like I’m in the minority here but I find Blackwall very boring. I think his character design is pretty cool but everything else just doesn’t do it for me. I never bring him out with me to adventure and when I decided to romance him with my human inquisitor I was so bored throughout the whole thing. The only semi interesting thing about his character for me is the fact that he was lying the whole time about being a grey warden. But even then I wasn’t really that interested. I’m sorry lol            

2

I SWEAR to JESUS i am never drawing barred wings again. Never. I refuse

anyway ! True Nephil Carolina w/ Peregrine Falcon wings. she was the one that inspired the whole project and boy doesn’t that make her feel good about herself

fun fact: this armor design was actually Tex’s but I felt like it matched Carolina better. tex, instead, will receive a cleavage window

drizzerey  asked:

You said that you love doing linework. Linework is my least favorite part of the process but I really don't like my art without it, so would you have any tips for doing linework? Cause yours is pretty damn amazing. Like what size/resolution do you typically work at, brush settings? What about linework makes you love it?

I use a painting program called “Medibang Paint Pro”. It is a great program to make comics!

I use a brush called “Pencil” which you can see here!

Even though it depends how big my canvas is (I usually have a canvas size of 2376px X 3202px and 350 dpi (dots per inch)) The brush size I use is around 3 - 4

If you need help drawing smooth lines you can use “Correction”. Set it around 3 - 5 and it will help you (the higher you set it the slower the brush will go! And this usually exist in any painting program). I don’t use it personally but I’ve heard it help people with drawing lines if they have a unsteady hand some days.

Why I like line-art more then anything is because I find everything else (coloring, shading, effects etc) boring and line-art is simply a way to clean up the sketches. It’s calming in a way, and quick in some cases.

Hope this is in any way helpful! ❤ 

Here's to us, TC-ers

Here’s to us. To all the boys, girls, and everyone in between that’s a part of the TCC.

Here’s to the ones who spend hours creating imagines so that we can picture different scenarios with our TC’s.

Here’s to the ones that sneak glances at our TC because we’re too scared to talk to them.

Here’s to the ones who spend the extra hours studying their TC’s subject just to impress them, and also to find out why they fell in love with this subject.

Here’s to the ones that never forget anything their TC tells them.

Here’s to the ones that are single. And to the ones that are in relationships.

Here’s to the ones that go out of their way to talk to their TC, give them flowers, cards, etc.

Here’s to the ones that go to every event their TC is involved in (even when you thought everything else except your TC was boring).

Here’s to the up-all-nighters, and the ones who cry and lose sleep over their TC.

Here’s to the ones with low marks because they were too busy staring and daydreaming about their TC to pay attention. Know that you’re not alone.

Here’s to the ones that are madly in love with their teachers. We know how difficult this is–just hang in there.

Because this is so much more than just a “crush”. It’s love.

5

EF 0 Tornado / Didsbury / Alberta / i.m. ruzz

I’ve been kinda putting off posting these because they’re so much spectacle you won’t bother with the mennonites. Canada day I finally got my first tornado. 

Storm Chasing is an odd habit. you often get into situations you probably shouldn’t be in, you spend your days trying to get your work done before or after the peak times and generally it’s sort of isolating to be out in a massive storm alone in the prairie. 

At the end of last year I’d debated giving it up because I had a couple storms that caught me and didn’t like the stress involved in trying to predict and stay ahead of massive waves of violence. But the pictures kept dragging me back. the awesome power and unrepeatable light kept dragging me back. 

I’d half promised myself to just find nice slow moving wall/shelf clouds and stay out of the dangerous stuff but all that went out the window when I saw and heard the power of an actual tornadic storm. Yes, my blood pressure was through the roof. Yes I felt like my head could pop off my shoulders at any moment and honestly there were some really scary moments. 

but at the same time, it was astoundingly beautiful. something primal happens in our bodies when faced with such power and learning to control that primal call is fascinating. Learning to work through the adrenaline and stress and find the chords of beauty is something I learnt I enjoyed. 

Now, having been in front of one of these true monsters everything else seems a tiny bit boring. A tiny bit human in scale. 

but summer has just begun …

The Efficiency of Pants

Try as I might, I will never stop writing Nesta fighting, kicking, and punching her way through an Illyrian war camp. It was just meant to be. 

Summary: Nesta finally wants to train and does she ever.

This is the fourth installment of my challenge. Follow the one shots here or on AO3, comments and suggestions are welcomed and appreciated

“Till I Collapse” by Eminem


Nesta liked to watch him train.

It wasn’t for the muscles that threatened to rip out of his chest, if he was wearing one, or the bronze gleam that made even the most celibate sweat. It wasn’t the hair that spilled from his tie, or the way his chest moved rapidly, up and down, to compete with his racing heartbeat. It wasn’t even for the smirk she saw dance its way along his face when he noticed her wandering gaze.

She wasn’t immune to male attractiveness, not when that male was 6 feet of sweat and allure, but it wasn’t the reason he had caught her attention.

Nesta watched him for the way he moved his feet. The way they moved to counter attacks, instill fear, and prove he was the greater, the faster, the stronger. The different weapons he chose to use, from his glimmering sword, polished to rival the sheen of diamonds, to bow and arrows, sharp enough to cut one.

Keep reading

archiveofourown.org
Bloomtale - Chapter 11 - Kaitogirl - Undertale (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter 11 is up!!! This might be the end of the Ruins’ arc. Or maybe not…


For those who can’t access AO3 or just don’t want to do it, the chapter is pasted under this sexy cut!!!

Keep reading

I'm only now getting into BBC's CLASS

And Charlie x Matteusz is EVERYTHING. It’s exactly the style of relationship that I like on tv. Healthy. Mutual. Simple. No tea, no drama, no drawn-out angsty eyesex. Just normal and boring and an escape from the general drama of EVERYTHING else. Granted, I’m only like, 3 eps in…so hopefully this lasts!

Originally posted by timelordinaustralia

resurrectionofdawn  asked:

"whatever she is, isn't human. It's old, it's powerful, and it hates."

guns & rosaries, Darcy/Loki

Now on AO3.

okay, you didn’t ask for a specific pairing so i just went with whatever worked, which turned out to be Darcy/Loki. So this is tasertricks, and a lot longer than I expected it to be. Hope you like it! :)


Darcy didn’t begin to suspect that anything was wrong until the third day on the job. Hunting monsters had never exactly been easy money, but she and Jane had been doing it for so long that Darcy forgot what it was like when a job went truly sideways.

From the start, it seemed like an average contract—strange and scary things started happening in a small town, townspeople freaked out, townspeople found a (mostly) innocent person to scapegoat—and the guy who hired them was too genuinely nice to be pulling some kind of con. And while Jane may have been too entranced by the guy’s abs to make an unbiased evaluation of the situation, Darcy’s bullshit detector had no equal. To be fair to Jane, though, even Darcy had to admit that Thor’s abs were extremely impressive.

All that aside, his concern that his little brother might be wrongly accused and driven out of their community was so palpable that Jane and Darcy accepted the contract on the spot and booked a flight to Norway the next day.

The first night was fine. Jane and Darcy were jet lagged as hell but still able to drag themselves to the only inn in town, where they rented two rooms for the duration of the contract (Jane was attempting to hide her desire to get in Thor’s pants as a sudden and unprecedented need for space, but Darcy wasn’t buying it). Darcy barely took the time to unpack her meager toiletries—she left the silver bullets, holy water, and emergency potions securely tucked away in the false bottom of her luggage—before heading out to join Jane and Thor in the pub for dinner.

When she finally collapsed into bed, exhausted, she had horrible, restless dreams all night. She woke up the next morning, drained, with the ghost of a crushing weight on her chest. Rubbing at the spot, feeling as if a bruise was forming, Darcy attributed the strangeness to lingering jet lag and a desperate need for caffeine. She paused only for a moment at the mirror, looking at the deep, dark bruises under her eyes in mild consternation. Should’ve brought more concealer, Darce.

On her way out the door, Darcy’s eyes caught on the items scattered across the vanity. Hmm, that’s strange—she would’ve sworn that they were in a different order when she laid them out the day before. Shaking her head, Darcy wrote it off as a flight of fancy and went on her way.

The second day and night went much like the first; Jane and Darcy split up to subtly investigate suspicious activity in the town, and Darcy became more and more perturbed by what she heard. Apparently, several people had had heart attacks in the middle of the night over the past few months, a few too many to just be coincidence. At least several more had literally disappeared in the middle of the night, with no clue as to where they had gone. The townsfolk were adamant that they hadn’t left voluntarily—cars, clothes, and belongings were all still at home, and entire families had been left behind without warning.

Suspicion and paranoia were percolating, as they often did in situations like these, swelling into a wave of fear and hate that would find some unlucky sod to target. Apparently, in this case that scapegoat was likely to be Thor’s little brother.

Darcy and Jane would have to move quickly, before irreparable damage was done.

As she headed back to the pub to meet Jane and Thor for dinner, Darcy mused that it did indeed sound like some kind of supernatural creature was wreaking havoc on the town. Unfortunately, she was still at a loss for what kind—the vague descriptions she had gathered from the townspeople could fit any number of monsters she and Jane dealt with on a regular basis, not to mention the ones specific to this area of the world. Hopefully Jane had fared better.

Jane had not, in fact, fared any better. That was patently clear from the fact that Darcy’s best friend was currently engaged in a rousing sing-off with her fair-haired beau, which seemed well on its way to…yep, definitely ending in a drunken makeout.

Rolling her eyes fondly at the pair, Darcy moved to claim a table at the edge of the crowd. As she sat, Darcy felt the press of someone’s gaze and sat up to her full (modest) height. Taking her time, she nonchalantly cast her eyes about this room, searching for her unknown spectator.

As soon as her eyes landed on the man lounging in a chair by the fire, Darcy wondered how she ever could have missed him. He certainly wasn’t going out of his way to hide the direction of his gaze, and he smirked at her when their eyes met. With dark hair and a disdainful tilt of his chin, he looked nothing like the rest of the townspeople she had met so far.

Because of the distance and the reflection of the flames dancing in his eyes, she couldn’t tell if they were green or blue. There was no disguising the smug tilt of his mouth, though, especially as it was directed straight at her in a blatant challenge. Darcy allowed herself a smug look in return, and he sat up a bit straighter in his chair in response. She had a moment to wonder if he would abandon the distance between them and approach her, but then Jane was at the table, slightly drunk and glowing.

Swaying as she sat down, Jane leaned too close and shouted, “Thor’s getting us drinks!”

Darcy chuckled and leaned back in her seat, eardrums already aching from Jane’s lack of volume control. “That’s great, Janie, thanks. Did you find out anything good today?”

Jane shakes her head, then nods vigorously, then see-saws her hand in a so-so motion. “Umm—”

Snorting at her best friend, Darcy takes a different approach. Best to keep it simple. “Any word on how Thor’s brother is holding up under all the suspicion?”

Jane looked at her, wide-eyed and puzzled. “You were the one just having intense eye sex with him, Darcy, so you tell me. I thought you’d already ‘met,’ the way you were looking at each other.” She waggled her eyebrows outrageously, drawing a laugh out of Darcy.

“You’re the only one getting any action on this trip, Janie,” Darcy teased. Humming thoughtfully, she added, “I could see why he’d be the one everyone blames around here, though. He doesn’t exactly…fit in.”

Jane nodded sagely in agreement. “It’s always the outsiders who get blamed, isn’t it?” She and Darcy exchanged a glance, empathetic to Loki’s plight; they’d been on the receiving end of townspeople’s misplaced blame more than once in the past, and it was always unpleasant. Darcy turned back to where he was sitting, but Loki was gone.

Thor came back with their mead at that moment and conversation turned to lighter topics. Darcy let go of thoughts about his brother, but every now and then she swore she could feel eyes on her, watching and assessing.

That night passed much like the one before, and Darcy began to suspect that her nightmares possibly had something to do with whatever was haunting the town. She suffered no other effects than lingering exhaustion and a lingering heaviness in her chest, though, so she continued on with her day, planning to look into it later.

In hindsight, perhaps Jane and Darcy should have questioned the details of the supernatural goings-on a bit more extensively before making the trip. That way, Darcy might have been slightly more prepared to wake up to a ghoulish creature perched on her chest in the middle of the night.

As it was, Darcy was not prepared in the least. She woke abruptly, limbs paralyzed and pressed to the bed. Her mouth still worked, though, and she let out an earsplitting shriek, loud enough to bring the inn down around her ears. The vaguely woman-like creature bore down on her, glowing red eyes moving so close they drowned everything else out.

Whatever she was, she wasn’t human. She was old, powerful, and clearly hated Darcy with a fiery passion.

Darcy had just enough time to reflect on the embarrassment of dying in bed in a foreign country, alone, before her ears were filled with a thunderous clanging. The ghoul screamed in pain and frustration and clambered off of her, scrambling to the far corner of the room.

Limbs mobile again, Darcy propped herself up on her elbows just in time to see the creature turn itself to mist. A silver knife flew past, embedding itself directly into the wood where the creature had stood half a second earlier.

Loki stood in the doorway, one hand gripping some kind of bell while the other was still outstretched from throwing the knife.

Darcy blinked, and then he was rushing toward her. He grabbed her hand, dragging her the rest of the way out of bed, and they fled the bedroom at a run.

Well, Darcy thought to herself, this job just got a whole lot more interesting.


Originally posted by modifier-x


send me a prompt!

I hope you never stop finding joy in the seemingly mundane - that you never stop staring in awe as the milk spins galaxies in your morning coffee or finding joy in the way that certain flowers smell in the spring or how beautiful bookshops are or how everyone you know has enough stories to fill an entire novel or how your favourite sweater seems to warm you in the winter from inside out. I just hope you never feel like life is boring, when everything else is a testament that it isn’t.

the only thing i really got out of the end of naruto is that i am going to be bitter about tenten for the rest of my life. that girl deserved the world and she just looked so bored in that shop. i’m gonna be on my death bed complaining about how much better tenten deserved.

anonymous asked:

it's summer and i'm so bored with nothing to do ;; !!

like really nothing? ;; maybe start watching a series or something, call friends to hang out, start learning a new language? for fun, I did that last summer cause I was also super bored and I had a really long summer

This is Not Your Fairy Tale

Your name: submit What is this?

Warnings: Sex, Language and Violence.

The Crazy Horse Road House may not be the most romantic rendezvous, but it works for you and Sam. That’s the only thing that matters.

Between your schedule and Sam crisscrossing the country to fight the big bad, it’s amazing you’ve made any semblance of a relationship last. It takes a lot of work and patience to be the woman waiting on Sam Winchester. Most of the time it’s nothing more than missed dinners, broken plans and crawling into bed alone.

It’s not exactly ideal, but it’s your reality and it’s really damn lonely.

Once a month, if life is hectic and you two haven’t really gotten a chance to spend any time together, you meet here. The Crazy Horse.  You spend the weekend drinking cheap beer, going to second run movies and fucking in the dirty motel across the street. Sometimes he comes alone, other times he brings his brother and you pretend that it doesn’t bother you.

Everything about Sam is a compromise, so you take what you can get.

So tonight, here you sit, three beers in, waiting. Sam’s late, big surprise.

“Hey,” a greasy, middle-aged guy parks himself on the barstool next to you. He has no shame as he gives you a good once over, eyeing you from head to toe. “Damn sweetheart, you look like you could use some company.”

“I’m good, thanks.” You flash him a tight smile and sip your beer.

“I don’t know about that. You look a little lonely over here all by yourself.” He makes himself comfortable, signaling to the bartender for another drink. “I’m Luke, what’s your name?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “You don’t have worry about me. I’m waiting for someone.”

“You sure about that?” He moves in a little closer. “My buddies and I have been watching you for a while. Sure looks like you’re flying solo.” He nods to a small table.  You follow his stare and several of the men begin to snicker and whistle.

“As flattering as all this is, I’m really not interested in anything other than my drink.” You shift in your seat, turning toward him and leaning away at the same time. You make sure to look him in the eyes, you don’t want him getting the wrong idea, you’re not a woman who’s easily messed with. This is not the first time you’ve been hit on in bar, but it never gets less uncomfortable.

“Hey now, no reason to get your panties in a punch.” He’s really not taking the hint. “Just let me buy you a beer. I we’d get along just fine once you loosen up a little.”

“Listen, I’m not going to ask you again, please leave me alone.” You cringe as he licks his lips, amused by your reaction.

“Let’s just think about this for a minute, it’s perfect sweetheart,” His hand is suddenly on your leg, his stubby fingers digging into your thigh. You suck in a sudden breath, jumping at his touch. “You’re alone, I’m alone. We could have a little fun.”

“She’s not alone.” Sam’s voice behind you is unmistakable, accompanied by his big hands on your shoulders. “Take your hands off her before I do it for you.”

Luke’s hand recoils, suddenly jumping up from his seat. He smiles shyly and shrugs his shoulders. “It’s cool man, we were just talking.”

“Well, you’re done now.” Sam moves between you and Luke, as he shuffles back his table where his friends are in hysterics.

“You picked a hell of a night to be late.” You spin around to face him.

“I can see that. You have quite the fan club.” Sam looks down you with his jaw set, not at all amused. He ticks his head, as if he’s trying to shake off how pissed he is. He throws Luke, and the table of admirers, a hostile stare.

“Sam, It’s fine” You stand up as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you to him. He kisses you hard, definitely more forceful than the usual hello kiss. You squeak into this mouth when he grabs a handful of your ass, giving it a quick squeeze as he pulls away.

Sam’s marking his territory. You let him.

“You wanna leave?” He offers, still holding you against his body.  You can feel his heart racing in his chest, he really didn’t like that guy touching you. His reaction, while a bit over the top, is really turning you on.  

“No, don’t let that guy ruin our night. Come on,” you grab his hand and coax him back toward the bar.

::

It takes a few beers, a game of darts and a story about Dean shopping for the perfect mozzarella cheese, but Sam simmers downs and start to enjoy himself. You talk and drink until well after midnight. You tell him everything. The little details, that would bore anyone else, make Sam’s eyes light up. He enjoys hearing about your boring little life.

Sam’s coming back from the bathroom, when one of Luke’s friend bumps into him. Sam keep his cool, but the guy mumbles something. You know what’s about to happen, already moving toward them.

“What did you say?” Sam raises his eyebrows, his shoulders rolling back.

“Baby, just ignore him. Please, let’s just go.” You’re between Sam and another man, with two hands on Sam’s chest. The other guy is just as big as Sam.

The situation has escalated in record time.

The man eyes you up, then down, making the point that Sam can’t stop him from looking at you any way he likes.  He turns to Sam and grins, “I bet I could make her squeal like a pig.”

“Shut your mouth.” Sam spits as his fist connects with the man’s face in a single, fluid motion. One quick punch and the asshole is holding his nose as blood streams down his shirt.

Next thing you know, he’s running full bore at Sam.

Your dive bar date night has officially turned into an all out brawl.

Fuck.

::

A couple hours  later you’re in a dirty motel bathroom. The gash in Sam’s side looks horrific but he’s insisting that he doesn’t need a hospital.

“Can you thread the needle for me?” he implores, wincing as he gingerly pats the open wound with an alcohol soaked cloth.

“Sure,” you gulp and look away, your stomach feeling uneasy. “Are you sure we shouldn’t have someone look at it? He cut with a broken beer bottle for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s not too deep.” Sam gives you a strained grin that’s intended to dismiss your concerns. “I’ve done it before, Y/N. I’m gonna be fine.”

“Okay,” you don’t fight him. You thread the needle with fishing line and hand it to him along with a bottle of whiskey. He takes a swig, then gets down to the business of stitching himself up.

You can’t watch. You turn the TV and force yourself to watch a rerun of Forensic Files.

By the time Sam’s crawls into bed it’s almost sunrise. There’s a lot you intended to say to him, but instead you wrap your arms around him as he lays his head on your chest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, it wasn’t your fault, but you feel like somehow it was. “We should have left.”

“Don’t be. He was asking for it.” Sam breathes, “I’d do it again.”

When you wake up it’s early afternoon and Sam is gone. There’s a note on his pillow.

Dean called, had to leave. Didn’t want to wake you.

I’m sorry I ruined our night. I’ll make it up to you. Call me.

I love you.

::

Two weeks later , Sam hi-jacks you on a Sunday afternoon. He holds your hand while he drives, thumb rubbing the back your knuckles and watching how you smile at the afternoon light. He sneaks glances at you, noticing, for the first time in a long time  the pink in your cheeks, delicate color on pallid skin.

He finds a old revival theater, in a town so out of the way he’d never be able to find again if his life depended on it. The tickets are cheap, but the popcorn is stale and the only thing playing is a animated kids movie he’s never heard of.

You tell him you can’t believe he’s never seen this movie and you’re definitely staying. It’s a exquisite, rundown theater, you can smell mold and new paint as you sit in ratted seats. You think it’s fantastic. He’s there with you, arm slung over her shoulders as the lights dim and your eyes tear up at the opening credits of An American Tail.

And even though I know how very far apart we are

It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star…

Afterwards, Sam fucks you in the parking lot, you ride him in the backseat, squirming and moving your hips while he bucks up into you. Your teeth chatter over his lips, kisses hard and meant only for him. He fists the pale yellow material of you dress where it’s bunched at your hips, rough hands cupping ass while you ache with lust. Your back curves sharply, harsh gasps when his dick finds your sweet spot and all you can do is say his name. You dig fingers, clawing into his shoulder, cock buried deep, while quivering muscles tug at him. You jerk when he comes quickly with a muffled shout, mouth still pressed into your breast.

In the end it’s not the fairy tale weekend you dream of, it’s just a small moment, something private that’s only yours. There are very few romantic dinners, certainly no opera tickets or moonlit walks - no, instead you get a cheap film, a flask of whiskey and a quick fuck. 

And in this life, not the ideal, not the fairy tale, but in this real existence…it’s perfect.





@impalaimagining

anonymous asked:

I wanted to now which shiratorizawa loves to eat spicy food and which member can not deal with spicy food

Ushijima

He’s got a normal tolerance towards spicy food. He likes spicy food normally but he’d rather avoid it; he doesn’t like how it feels when eating it but if there’s nothing else he just deals with it.

Semi

He doesn’t have too much of an opinion on spicy food. Sometimes he likes it and sometimes he doesn’t. His general opinion though is “if it’s spicy but isn’t made by mum then it’s not good.” Semi just really likes the way his mum makes spicy food and everything else just tastes boring/irritating in comparison.

Reon

Spicy? He doesn’t know what that means. He’s grown up eating whatever without a complaint and it honestly terrified Ushijima when they were kids and Reon just ate a whole pepper of some kind without even batting an eyelid. Reon doesn’t remember ever doing it but Ushijima does. 

Tendou

A very weak guy. He’s not good with spicy food at all; he doesn’t like certain curry breads because they’re ‘too much’ for him which honestly is just an exaggeration. Don’t even think about giving this guy any spicy food, ever.

Goshiki

He loves spicy food but always eats it too quickly to actually comprehend the different tastes. He can tolerate quite a bit but even he has his limits. Goshiki’s also the kind of person that tries spicy food challenges. Let me reiterate this point: even he has his limits.

Shirabu

His tolerance is just average. He hates spicy food but it interests him; he’s not exactly the world’s greatest cook but it’s cool to think about what goes into food to make it that way. He’s tasted quite a bit anyway, coming from a jet setting family that can explore the world’s cuisine and all that.

Kawanishi

The word spicy doesn’t even exist in his vocabulary. This is the guy who regularly drinks hot chocolate with cayenne pepper in it. He once just downed a bottle of hot sauce in front of everyone to be cool but it didn’t work out the way he wanted; everyone just started yelling and asking if he was okay. As it turns out, he was okay but it tasted like shit.

Yamagata

If there’s any word to describe him, it’s adventurous. He’ll try anything at least once and enjoys the feeling of the pain on his tongue. It’s even better when he feels his throat burning. Shirabu’s called him a masochist but Yamagata literally cannot hear him over the food that he’s enjoying.