cleared their plates

Imagine Marius trying super hard to impress JVJ the first time he meets him and he’s just stumbling over his words and messing up and he’s just a massive bundle of nerves. And JVJ is there like “ yes hello I am the serious father” but like he’s just dying because oh my god bless this boy.

And then they have dinner and they go to say grace and JVJ is like

“Our father who art in heaven

thank you for blessing us with this food

And Lord, if you’re listening, let Marius Pontmercy know that he is welcome in my house and to my family and that the plate he accidentally broke that Cosette sneakily cleared away was an ugly plate and I’m glad it is broken.”

And anyways he can no longer keep a straight face and he bursts out laughing, followed not long after by Cosette and Marius feels like he could cry from relief and he’s so happy.

A Shared Victory

Inspired by this sketch of Jack in the beanie and Bitty in his cap where Jack looks so in love oh my god you guys I can’t….

Bitty clears the plates from the dining room table, stacking them on top of each other so he can carry them in one hand and the empty wine glasses in the other.

It’s just the two of them. Two plates. Two sets of silverware. Two glasses. But that doesn’t stop Jack from being impressed by the ease of which Bitty carries them.

He can just add that to the list.

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Thunderbirds Are Go Cyborgs AU! 

There are some explanations to go with this one, sometime they may be given.

I think I’ll call this one Thunderborgs, then again Cyberbirds is also tempting…

I guess me dragging my feet isn’t really helping your hunger! Better late than never I suppose!


• A super picky eater.
• Will eat whatever S/o puts in front of him, but if he doesn’t like it, it’ll show.
• S/o is super nervous to cook for him at first.
• That fear is quickly smashed when he clears his plate and goes for seconds.
• Then thirds.
• Then fourths.
• How much can this man eat??
• If they’re making his favorite dish, they better make enough for an entire family or he’ll be heartbroken.

• At this point, eating is more a pleaser than a necessity for him.
• If S/o makes food for him, he’ll probably eat it in private (on account of his mask).
• Bursts into their office demanding to know where they bought the food.
• When they say they made it, he’s shocked, but immediately asks for more.
• It becomes something he looks forward to daily (not that he’ll admit it).
• Will fist fight anyone who says S/o’s cooking is bad.

• Doesn’t like most foods, but is good at hiding it until she’s finished.
• S/o decides to surprise her with a meal after a long day at work.
• Mercy is so touched by the sediment that she doesn’t even care if the food is awful.
• The food is not awful.
• It becomes a tradition almost.
• S/o surprises her with food a few times a month.
• Mercy becomes giddy every time she comes home and smells food cooking.
• Will often help if it isn’t done by the time she arrives.

• Will eat anything you put in front of her.
• Has probably eaten things past the expiration date and was like, “Haha, whoops!” And then went on with her day.
•, please no.
• Probably asked S/o to make her something while she was busy.
• Ended up eating so much that she got a stomach ache.
• Basically begs S/o to cook for her now.
• Brags about them. All. The. Time.

yorshkrun  asked:

I'd love any stories about Daisy Johnson from Agents of Shield!

She’d chosen Skye for the sharpness. That was a name that came with edges– the spiky k, the stark supplementary angles of the y. The s let you in on a quick slide and then the e led you out on a smug silence.

She used to shove her head out the window at the orphanage, knuckles squeezed to white on the sill while she craned to see the clouds that streaked across the blue. She didn’t know, then, that she would live in that sky for a few precious months, that she would find a family there, that when she touched down she’d give up her name for one that grew in the ground.

The first foster home they gave her to believed that not clearing your plate at supper was the sign of a spoiled, sullen child. The dairy was spoiling in Skye’s tummy, certainly, though she didn’t have the words for that as she pushed scraps of cheesy lasagna around her plate.

“I thought Chinese girls were supposed to be polite,” said Cheryl, who had asked Skye to call her “mom.” Skye huddled in the dark of the hallway, listening and watching the faint light of late night television splash itself across the beige carpet. A canned laugh track spilled after it, ricocheting down the hall.

“Well, she’s only half,” said Richard, who had not asked her to call him “dad.”

The second foster home was nice, Skye had thought. They had liked her, she had thought. She had helped Alice make scrambled eggs and not burned anything. Kyle had read her stories at bedtime and she had asked interesting questions. She was never sure why they’d sent her back.

“It just wasn’t working,” her social worker told her. “Don’t worry, sweetie, there’s always next time for a cute little thing like you.”

Mr. Lopez, who was her computer teacher at the fourth foster home, kept in touch, after. Well, he hadn’t been her computer teacher, but Skye had hidden out in the computer lab at lunch, during some P.E. classes, and that one terrible English class, and instead of going to various extracurriculars.

For more than a year after the Smiths sent her away, Mr. Lopez emailed her puzzles that Skye supposed a different girl might have called “homework.” The orphanage took twice-a-week trips to the local library, where Skye claimed a computer stall to type up her answers and send them back to him.

She looked Mr. Lopez up, years later– when she was Daisy, with earthquakes living under her skin, finally feeling like maybe she herself fit in there. She searched through the inhuman registry, wondering if that stroke of kindness had actually been unknown fellow-feeling. Had he looked at her and felt a kinship he didn’t understand? Seen the alien under her stubborn chin, even if she didn’t have the words for it then?

She didn’t find his name. But the registry was hardly perfect– something she was grateful for.

(It had been fellow-feeling.)

Mr. Lopez had seen a young child, far from anything that felt like home. He had seen her curious eyes light up as the rundown old computer whirred itself awake. She didn’t know who she was going to be and at fourteen the world had been anything but welcoming.

It was absolutely kindness. It was absolutely kinship.

Mr. Lopez tried to look her up, too, years later. He spent his afternoons, those days, teaching his granddaughters how to code. He wondered if Skye had gone to college, if she’d found a family that stuck, but he didn’t find anything.

Her old email account bounced. Searches turned up empty (scrubbed clean).

That wasn’t her name anymore.

Highlights in this chapter

- Zhan actually SMILING

- Guan Shan getting mad up them for not clearing the plates but doing it himself anyways

- Guan Shan not being afraid of asking Zhan for his homework (even though he smashed a rock against his head like, last week)

- Jian Yi FINALLY opening up

- He Tian turning into a motherfucking sage with all the deep talk (and being surprisingly supportive)

- Guan Shan’s ear perking up when he hears He Tian mention kissing again

- He Tian knowing it alllll along

- Guan Shan getting worried for Jian Yi when he gets flustered and blaming it on He Tian (eventhough Jian Yi twisted his balls a few days ago)


I work at a restaurant where you order/pay at counter, take number, sit etc.
so sometimes I’m register and sometimes I have to bus tables and restock shit but I’ve been bussing a lot lately WHICH IS ANNOYING BECAUSE I AM V TINY AMD CANT CARRY HUGE TUBS FULL OF PLATES!! anyway, after I clear the plates and shit off the tables I go back to wipe down the table and I swear to god there will be 10+ open empty, already bussed and
wiped down tables throughout the restraint and people will seek out the ONE FREAKING TABLE I HAVENT WIPED DOWN YET SO THEY CAN WAVE/SNAP/YELL at me from across the restaurant to inform that the table they would like to sit at has not been wiped down yet!!! it’s usually old people too they’re mean as f

Because I just can’t leave things alone. I *finally* received my clear stamper and my stamping plates from Born Pretty Store and I had to try them out. It’s a little off, but I don’t care.

Colors Used:

Cult Nails- Tempest

China Glaze- Son Of A Peach, Highlight Of My Summer, Too Yacht To Handle, That’s Shore Bright, Neon & On & On

Cirque Colors- Memento Mori

Born Pretty plate BP-L054

Celebrate any little victory. You got up today. You cleared that plate. Hell, youre alive! Reward yourself and never let anyone tell you you arent doing enough. You’re doing plenty.

Caryl fic wars

Here you go @lovesdaryl - this is exceptionally rushed, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. Anyway, after this little angst-break I can now return to the smutfest I was wriitng ;)


Carol imagined that in another world, in another life, this could have been the picture of perfect, blissful domesticity.

The plates cleared and cleaned after a delicious, home-cooked meal.

The log fire blazing in the grate.

The man she loved more than any other huddled under the warm, knitted blanket, gazing softly into the flames.

But this wasn’t another world. This wasn’t another life. This was here and now, in a dangerous and cruel world, and the man she loved was more lost and broken than she had ever seen him.

The flickering light from the fire illuminated Daryl’s face, highlighting just how tired he was, how much the past few weeks seemed to have aged him.

“I know you said you were going back tonight,” Carol said softly, as she knelt before the fire, placing herself beside him. “But I can’t let you. Not tonight. Not now.  You stopped me running away once before. Let me return the favor.”

“I didn’t…” he began, but trailed off. Even in the dim light Carol could see the words he wanted to say were paining him. “I shoulda been there to bring you back before. If I had, we wouldn’t have been out there and been captured, and… Glenn…” He dropped his head, and his shoulders shook with grief. Very tentatively Carol reached towards him, and he accepted her touch readily, clutching to her like a lifeline as he wept.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered to him over and over, as she tried to comprehend the loss herself. Both Glenn and Abraham, gone forever. The idea was inconceivable. And it was precisely why she had run away; to escape the never-ending cycle of death. But it seemed that she couldn’t outrun death for long. And with Daryl here now, her choice to run was laid bare.

Finally he quieted, and very slowly he raised his blood-shot, swollen eyes to meet her gaze. “Come back with me,” he said.

Her heart ached to say yes, to leave with him, but she wasn’t ready to go back. As long as she stayed away from Alexandria she could pretend, deep in her soul, that both Glenn and Abraham were still alive, that her family was safe. “I’ll think about it,” she said, and she moved her hand to cradle the back of Daryl’s head, then placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

But as she tried to move away, Daryl held onto her, and pressed a sudden, clumsy, wet kiss to her lips. “Come back with me,” he repeated.

She was breathless, her heart pounding with the shock of what he had just done. She had wanted him for longer than she could remember but had never wanted to push him, and so had always waited for him to make the first move. She had long assumed that her feelings would never be reciprocated. Very tentatively, she brushed some of his tears away from his cheek with the pad of her thumb, then ran her hand gently over the unshaven scruff of his jaw and drew him closer, brushing her lips softly over his. “Stay tonight,” she said. “And I promise I’ll think about it.”

He nodded softly, and pulled the blanket from around his shoulders so that he could wrap them both up together, and Carol allowed herself the slightest of melancholic smiles. There was that scene of domesticity that she longed for at last…

anonymous asked:

Werewolf bangtan Cara pls pls pls

Bro. Bro. Listen. If I had nothing else to do I’d be whipping up werewolf bangtan right frigging now. Maybe once I clear my plate some. Why do I have so many ideas??? FML. And I’m talking actual werewolves here, not like…abo sex wolves or some shit. Transforming and eating people and being scary and ughhhh it’d be so fun. In my old notes for this Kookie has a damaged eye from a fight and everyone thinks it’s spooky-looking so he’s super self-conscious about it. But it’s fine, Tae keeps people from picking on him. Also Nams is all black when transformed. And Yoongi hates being a werewolf and mostly keeps to himself which is weird bc wolves…need packs… That’s all I remember.


I find ketchup to be equally as disgusting as poop. From the smell to the look, and especially the sound it makes coming out of the bottle, everything about ketchup I find repulsive. All the times my food at restaurants showed up with ketchup on the side, I tried to ignore that my food was tainted. Sure, it hadn’t touched my food, but it was too close! It was wrong! But I didn’t want to be a burden, so I was forced to deal with it and eat my food. Last night my mom was eating a burger, a food in which she’d inevitably put ketchup on. It’s my job to clear the table, but I can’t stand having my hands that close to something so disgusting. I calmly asked her to clear her own plate if she used ketchup… she refused. I said I would literally pay her, she still said I needed to just ~deal with it~. A meltdown over something so stupid to others feels worse than a normal meltdown. Why can’t she accommodate me, is it that big a deal to respect my repulsion?? Crying half because of the event and half because of how miniscule the problem would be to others was severely unpleasant. My dad came in to “comfort” me, but only said with you sigh “you have some weird triggers.” Thanks for the “”“kind”“” words I feel so much better now. It’s not just about the ketchup, it’s about how my mom knows I’m autistic, she knows I have SPD, and yet she refuses to respect that. I feel she doesn’t respect me or my needs. And each meltdown she causes I feel the pain of knowing she doesn’t truly understand me. She doesn’t respect what I go through. She doesn’t respect me.

certified-work-of-art  asked:

∞ {Cause now I'm utterly curious what your idea on the two would be}

NAME: Knoctrom
STABILITY: It depends–the higher the danger of getting their plating scratched, the higher the possibility for an unstable fusion. If it’s a fusion for fun purposes, they’ll probably be stable.
SONG: Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked by Cage the Elephant
DANCE: A fancy dance, very proper and formal, much like a waltz, but with a good deal more spinning and a lot less hands-on moments. The point is not to scratch Knockout’s plating; Megatron, however, is free game, as he doesn’t care. There must always be at least two feet of distance between them at all times, until the very end, when servos may touch.
SUMMARY: Knoctrom is extremely vain, to the point where self-preservation kicks in and he splits if it becomes clear that his plating is going to be harmed. Don’t touch the face! He’s honestly too perfect and too beautiful for the mere mortal gaze, but since he’s here, you may as well admire him. Vanity comes at the price of never being able to count on this fusion in a tight spot; unless you’re looking for someone to flatter, don’t bother calling on this fusion for help.
PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES: Sleek crimson and silver accents on a white frame, touched with gold and black–very few spikes to be found here. Long legs, long arms, and plenty of smooth, curvy plating on which to display a gorgeous paint job. The only fusion where Knockout is the more prominent contributor of appearance.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Kuroko Tetsuya by himself.
  • Don’t think about how person after person probably always cut him in line because they didn’t notice.
  • Don’t think about a waitress clearing his plate while he’s still eating it, because she thinks he left.
  • Don’t think about how often the bus must have left without him, and he had to walk. 
  • Don’t think about the countless times he was accidentally elbowed, hit, run into, knocked over, or worse by careless unaware people around him.
  • Don’t think about him watching every person he meets flinch when they do see him.
  • Don’t think about him almost getting hit by a car for the 3rd time in a week because the driver didn’t slow for a pedestrian he couldn’t see.
  • Don’t think about how all of this is normal.
  • Especially don’t think about him wishing he still had a light, as a beacon to remind the world he exists. 
Request- Oswald x Reader- Dinner Date (Rated M heavy smut)

You and Oswald are round a friends for Dinner, but you have other plans for dessert

Thanks to @oswald-cobblepot-addicted for the request! It was an honour!! <3

Warning- Extreme sexual content, fingering, teasing, oral (blowjob), penetration, vulgar language, spanking

Originally posted by raininginthenight

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‘I hope you didn’t steal any!’ 'No it’s all yours, honey’. Em eased back behind the table, the walk had allowed her food to settle somewhat. She took a breath and devoured the last fries and a bite of the last quarter of burger. 'I’m not sure I can finish…’ Em teased, wondering what Maddy’s reaction would be. 'Oh, Emily!’ she cooed. 'There can’t be more than two bites left!’ Em slouched back against the seat, not worried about hiding her rounded belly. 'But I’m stuffed…’ 'If you don’t finish we can’t have dessert!’ She was joking, wasn’t she?? They couldn’t order dessert after… well, Maddy had only had a salad after all. Em shifted in her seat again, so conscious of how full she was right now, yet somehow eager to keep eating. Absent-mindedly she must have cleared her plate as the waitress was back. 'Are you done?’ Em bolted up-right, breathing in her belly once more. She gulped the last mouthful of shake, wiped her mouth and answered. 'Yes, thank you’. 'I had no idea you were such a piggy’ laughed Maddy once they were alone again. 'I would never have ordered that if you didn’t suggest it!’ 'I’m going to have to waddle out of here…’ she added, pointedly. 'Aw, it isn’t that bad!’ Em looked down, and placed a hand either side of her protruding belly. If she had lifted her vest it would have revealed a good inch of overhang. There was nothing for it, but to… 'ahhhhhhhh’. Em released the button and with a soft gasp of pleasure, felt the pressure disappear. The tide of chub had even caused the zip to slip down and inch or two. 'I can’t believe I’m here with SUCH a fatty. Honestly.’ chided Maddy, innocently.  'So, about that dessert’.

anonymous asked:

“No. No, no, no. Don’t you dare try to pin the blame on me.” ((Ask-Fem-Snipes that roommate AU idea I pitched a while back. If you wanna.))

“What do you mean? It’s pretty clear you did this. Plates do not simply fall on the floor and break of their own accord.”

René stood over said plate, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. The white shards littered the kitchen floor.

“This will be such a pain to clean up…”