Good morning, lovelies! Guess what I got in the mail a couple of days ago? This amazing band T-shirt from @voxtacular! Green is my favorite color, and it fits me perfectly. I was planning to wear it with a skirt and a blazer the first time out, but I couldn’t wait to christen it, so it turned out to be plain old jeans on a run to the donut shop for Sophia and her friends. I do love the shoes however; they are so comfortable and a little bit edgy for me. As usual, the entire outfit is thrifted except for the shirt from Tiffany. I’m too tired to do hair or make up or filter type stuff this morning.
There was a homeless guy in a wheelchair sitting in front of the donut shop. I asked him if he was already full of donuts, and he replied that he hadn’t had any. I grabbed him a bear claw at his request, and we had a friendly exchange. In my more fearful days, I would have been afraid to talk to him. Little things like that let me see how much I’ve grown over the years.
Let’s all give ourselves credit for growth today. Happy Saturday, friends!
PAIRING: Luke/Y/N RATING: S M U T WORD COUNT: 7500+ REQUESTED: yes!
helloooooo!!! this is the much-anticipated pastor’s son!luke fic!! i rly hope u guys like it, bc im v proud of it! if u do enjoy it, please let me know in my ask box, and u can always check out some more of my stuff in my masterlist !!
Hey it’s Beth and I don’t have any yellow clothes so I’m posing with my Pikachu.
Remember you are loved and it might seem bad now but it will get better and killing yourself is not the answer. If you’re panicking or anxious, just breath and take a sip of water. And remember it’s okay to be sad. We’re human and everyone has bad days.
“Gregory, why can’t you just get rid of this bloody t-shirt? It is literally falling to pieces in my hands. Look at this! There are more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese.” Mycroft Holmes said, turning his nose up at the sight of the ratty green t-shirt from Lestrade’s days at university. He held it up, the college mascot actually peeling away from the field of green, pieces of fabric and thread visible on the frayed edges. “And this huge hole on the back… how do you even wear this thing?”
“It’s comfortable, and I wear it constantly. We are not getting rid of that.” Lestrade said, boxing up another collection of old stuff. Greg had been meaning to go through the old piles of junk he’d had from his “glory days,” and get rid of anything that he didn’t find useful or worthwhile anymore.
Mycroft had a very different definition of the term “useful,” however. Especially when it came to Greg’s old t-shirts. A long suffering sigh escaped the government official, who as usual donned an immaculate three-piece suit. “As you wish, my dear Gregory. But I don’t see how this piece of fabric even qualifies as a shirt.”
Greg shook his head at his boyfriend and chuckled. “This is from the year that we won the collegiate rugby championship, Myc. I don’t have anything else to commemorate that time in my life. It was before things became so complicated, you know?”
Mycroft glanced at him. As a Holmes, and running the British government since age 21, life had always been complicated. But he didn’t say anything about that. He merely nodded. “Fine, keep this rag. Let’s keep going through the rest of this pile. Then we can take a break for dinner; we can take it back to my place, because your flat is currently a disaster.”
Greg shrugged. “Okay, sure.” He set the shirt aside and they set to work going through the rest of the rubbish from his closet: old books, clothes, papers, and more.
Once they had finished their work for the afternoon and settled in at Mycroft’s dining room table, they began enjoying their Chinese takeout and each other’s company. Mycroft sat at the end of the table, and Lestrade took his usual spot to his right, their chairs moved to the corner so they could be close to one another throughout their entire meal.
“So… your team won the rugby championship during your final year of university. Tell… tell me more about it?” Mycroft said with a bit of nervous hesitation, offering a thin smile in his boyfriend’s direction. Greg wolfed down the bite of food he had left and took Mycroft’s hand in his. Mycroft set down his chopsticks, more eager to listen to Greg’s dulcet tones than finish his dinner. He’d eaten yesterday, anyhow.
“Sports aren’t really your thing, Myc. I don’t want to bore you.” Greg said, his fingers ever so softly and gently drawing circles on the back of Mycroft’s hand.
“It has to do with you, Gregory. It is impossible for such notions to be boring.” Mycroft said, glancing down at their now-intertwined fingers. He used his free hand to take a sip of the wine he had poured for the both of them before they had sat down.
Lestrade couldn’t help the childish grin that crossed his face. He took a drink from his own glass and then delved right into the renowned rugby tales of his pase. “Alright, so it all began with us going undefeated…”
His story continued for quite sometime, and Mycroft, surprisingly, did not find the story tedious. Not one bit. Normally sports were pointless and stupid, but when his Lestrade was involved, it was the most fascinating subject on the planet.
Once Greg had finished his tale, an idea sparked in Mycroft’s mind. He would execute the plan tomorrow, while Greg was at the office.
The next morning, when Greg got dressed and took off for work from Mycroft’s house, the government official went to his office to sit down and get some work done. Only he had one thing to do first. He went to the search engine on his browser, searching for any articles about that particular rugby championship. Naturally, there were several. And there were pictures. Mycroft smiled as he looked on the lanky, younger Lestrade. His hair wasn’t silver, but a deep brown. Honestly, Mycroft thought to himself, the silver suited the Detective Inspector much more; his silver fox looked damn handsome these days.
There was just one more thing to do in his research that would complete the plan. His fingers tapped against the keyboard, and he withdrew his credit card to make the final purchase with expedited shipping to ensure the delivery got there that afternoon.
When Lestrade came over to his house again that night – after a late night of dealing with Sherlock and a vicious homicide – he found a forest green bag sitting on the coffee table along with an envelope. Mycroft was nowhere to be found at that time, though. Greg shrugged and sat down, noticing that the gift bag was addressed to him. He picked it up and opened it, silver tissue paper wrapped around whatever was inside.
He furrowed his brow and withdrew the item, unraveling the paper from around it. It was some kind of green cloth – the bag matched it perfectly. As he unrolled the bunch of fabric, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly.
He was holding an exact copy of his favorite shirt from his championship days. A smile appeared across his lips. “It’s a genuine shirt from the championship. I found a website online that actually sells collegiate championship gear”Mycroft said as he came from his office, his tie loosened, top button undone, and shirt sleeves rolled. Greg knew that this was the equivalent of Mycroft relaxing during work. “Go on, open the envelope too.”
Greg nodded, setting the shirt aside. “Okay.”
He unfolded the flap of the envelope and out fell two tickets. They were tickets for a home game at his university, dated for the following weekend. “Mycroft, you amazing bastard.”
Mycroft chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. “I like seeing you happy, Gregory.”
“Thank you, Mycroft. Come here.” Greg said. Mycroft did just that, and the DI wrapped his arms around the other man. “You know, this means that you can have the old one.”
Mycroft chuckled softly. “That old thing? Surely you just want to get rid of–
“I don’t, actually. This is a wonderfully thoughtful gift, Myc. But I really do want you to have the old one. You don’t have to wear it in public; I know that is way too much to ask. But I do want you to have it. For pyjamas or something, at the very least. Do whatever you want with it.”
Mycroft stole a kiss from his boyfriend and nodded. “It would be an honor, Gregory. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. This is an amazing gift. I am so lucky to be with you.” Greg said. Mycroft felt his face grow hot, but it was nothing compared to the warm feeling rushing through his insides as Greg said those words.
Please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged. They’re under the cut. :)
Characters: Jared Padalecki, Reader, Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins
Word Count: 1358
Warnings: Fluff, alcohol usage, unedited writing
Summary: Jared decides to take Y/N out to hang out with his best friends, when someone gets a little too drunk and does something stupid.
Notes: Hey I’m sorry this took forever to come out but I felt really discouraged after posting the last part seeing as it got at least 130 less notes so… I made it up for it though by making this longer. You’re welcome.
As Jared pulled into the airport his heart began to race like a teenager upon seeing his crush. His crush wasn’t due to arrive for another half hour though. Jared grabbed the grey beanie that sat in the passenger seat and slipped it on before getting out of the car. Before going into the building Jared fixed himself in the window of his car and headed into to the airport to wait for you.
30 minutes felt like hours for Jared while he waited for you at baggage claim but it gave him plenty of time to think about what he was going to say when you showed up. “Should I just say hello? Or ‘hey Y/N’… No. Maybe ‘it’s great to finally see you in person?’” He thought.
In the corner of his eye he saw you wearing sweatpants and a Green Day t-shirt. Jared practically jumped off the bench and ran over to you. “Y/N!” he said with a smile plastered on his face.
“Oh hey!” You said pulling him in for a hug that didn’t last nearly long enough.
“It’s great to finally see you in person” Jared stated, mentally high-fiving himself for not messing up. You agreed and grabbed your duffel bag off the baggage belt. “Here let me take that” Jared insisted.
“Thank you” you said handing the slightly heavy bag over to him.
Jared guided you over to his black Ford Explorer and opened the passenger door for you before putting your luggage in the trunk. He then swiftly hopped into the driver’s side and started the car. “How was the flight?” Jared asked, starting up a conversation.
You shrugged and answered “It wasn’t terrible but it also wasn’t great. I was sat in front of some kids and a woman, whom I’m assuming was their mother. They were annoying as all hell.”
“Sorry about that” Jared said.
“Oh don’t be, I’ve had way worse” you explained, which led to the two of you exchanging airplane stories for the rest of the ride.
Both of you arrived at Jared’s apartment, you carrying the duffel bag in this time. The giant opened the door for you and led you to the guest room he had in the house. You thanked him and set your stuff down.
The two of you sat down on his couch and continued to talk about random things before a thought came to Jared. “Do you wanna go out with me and a few friends tonight? I understand if you don’t since we just got here.”
You smiled and replied “Of course, I’d love too! I do have to take a shower though.”
“Yeah, it’s just down the hall and to the left.” Jared directed to which you nodded and went to go take a shower.
During that time Jared called up Jensen and Misha to see if they were free tonight, they were. He looked at the time on his phone and figured you’d all meet up at the small local bar in about an hour. All Jared hoped for was that you’d all get along well.
Less than a half an hour later you walked into the living room wearing a black crop top with a pair of high waisted blue jeans, white vans, and a little bit of makeup to complete the look. Jared stared a bit but stopped when he met your eyes. He mumbled a small apology and grabbed his keys. “Are you ready to go?” He asked. You nodded and pulled on your light jacket.
Jared pulled up to the sidewalk in the Explorer next to where Jensen and Misha were talking. You hopped out of the car and went to go introduce yourself to Jared’s friends. Before you could get a word out though, Misha spoke. “You must be Jared’s girlfriend! I’m Misha, and that,” he points to the man a few inches taller than him, “is Jensen,” he waved and you did the same.
“It’s nice to meet you Misha, Jensen, but I wouldn’t umm… put a label on us yet. We haven’t really discussed that.” Jensen furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth to talk but stopped when Jared came around the other side of the car.
“Hey guys” Jared said before giving each man a hug and then standing next to your side. “I see you’ve met Y/N.” Jensen and Misha both gave an answer among the words of ‘Yes’ and ‘She’s wonderful.’ And with that, the four of you went inside.
The bar was mildly packed but it wasn’t overwhelming. It was fairly big and filled with a variety of people all drinking, laughing, and having a good time in general. Nobody seemed to notice your group walk in, you secretly hoped no one would come up to you guys tonight but if someone did, you wouldn’t really mind.
Jensen stayed standing while everyone else got into the booth and offered to go get drinks. “I already know what you two want but what about you Y/N?”
“I’ll have whatever you guys are having.” He nodded and was off the get the drinks.
“So Y/N,” Misha started, “what is it you do?”
“I make YouTube videos, specifically vlogs. It isn’t much but I really love it and I’ve met a lot of people doing it and I make a good amount of money…” You informed him. He continued the conversation wanting to know more about you and your work in general.
Jensen came back shortly with four beers, 2 in each hand. The three of you thanked him and took your drinks from the center of the table. The conversation then went on, focusing mostly on you but strayed every now and then.
About 7 beers in you were drunk, and when you got drunk you were got pretty competitive. You had challenged Misha to darts first, winning barely. Then you had challenged to a sing off, whoever got a louder applause won the game, Jensen won that one. You tried to get Jared to do shots with you but he declined because he had to drive you back to his place.
“Fine, I’ll go do shots with a stranger” you said, starting to walk off but Jared pulled you back. “Changed your mind already?”
“No but we should probably get back home, it’s late and you need to stop drinking” Jared stated, you reluctantly agreed and walked with him to say goodbye to Misha and Jensen.
When you began walking off to the car you slipped your hand into Jared’s, surprising him. He accepted it anyway and smiled to himself.
“Hey Jared” you said to get his attention. He hummed in acknowledgment. “If you were a vegetable you’d be cute-cumber… Get it? Because you’re cute.”
“Yeah, I get it” Jared laughed, helping you into the vehicle.
The keys rattled as Jared took them out of his pocket and inserted the house key into the lock. He opened the door and let you walk/stumble in first. You plopped down on the couch and laid down, despite having a perfect nice bed waiting for you.
Two hands gently lifted up your feet and set the back down on a lap, Jared’s lap. His arm rested on the couch as he flipped through channels on the tv eventually stopping on some reruns of Seinfeld. Both of you just watched the show, not saying anything and occasionally laughing at the jokes.
After 15 minutes you sat up and looked at Jared. “What’s up?” He asked. Instead, you said nothing and impulsively kissed him. Jared was surprised at first but let it happen because he’s wanted it for so long. However he felt bad, you were drunk and he couldn’t take advantage of you so he pulled back. “We can’t do this, you’re drunk and-”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry, this was stupid and I should probably just go to bed” You apologized, getting up quickly and moving towards the guest room.
“No, Y/N, wait!” Jared called after you, but you ignored him and quickly shut the door behind you. You’ll fix everything in the morning.
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I remember going to my first Green Day gig three months ago. I went there alone but I made some friends who also come from China just as I do, and they kindly offered to give me a lift home after the show. As we walked to the parking lot, we passed a car stuck in the traffic jam, in which sat two boys in Green Day T-shirt and they were playing Basket Case really loud and I could help but sing alone. When they turned their heads and saw me they started to sing back at me. We were totally strangers, but back then we were singing along to this fucking great song all together, with big smiles on our faces, still too excited for exhaustion and PCD to show, and I think we all understand how each other was feeling at that moment without putting into words. It’s a trivial yet interesting moment, and I still remember it so well.
can I get uhhhhhhhh pjo au Lance forcing his grungy boyfriend to do a face mask
Lance emerged from the bathroom with a contented sigh. The thick clay of the mask was soothing and cool against his skin, smoothing away a hard day of sweaty combat training and a nearly fatal attempt at rock climbing. Fresh tulips from the Demeter cabin clustered in the cabin windows, sending a wave of sweetness through the air with every summer breeze that fluttered the lace curtains. Somewhere in the distance an Apollo camper was playing a lyre, its melody drifting down into the valley
Lance sucked in another deep breath, letting it go in a smile. “This cabin is paradise. Aren’t you relaxed already?”
“This cabin is a nightmare,” Keith grunted, perched on the edge of Lance’s hope chest with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes darted around the room as a scowl pulled at his sharp features. “The fumes are noxious.”
Lance rolled his eyes. “Yours is a nightmare, and I’ve been to the Hades cabin.” He shuddered, thinking back only a few hours to when he had marched over to the Ares cabin to collect Keith for a little R&R time before dinner. One peek inside the door was enough to send him reeling; armor and weapons thrown haphazardly on the floor (it was a miracle they ever passed cabin inspection,) angry red accents on the bedding and walls, and something smoky hanging in the air. From then on he decided throwing pebbles at Keith’s window would be his preferred method of boyfriend-summoning, although he’d have to be careful of the landmines. Like he said, a nightmare. “I know the pink trim is tacky, but it’s at least peaceful in here, right?” He gestured around the cabin, empty except for a few of his siblings draped over a bed in the corner flipping through magazines.
Keith sighed, finally uncrossing his arms. “Yeah, I guess it is quieter…”
“That’s the spirit! Now-” Lance grinned, holding up a Mario Badescu container in one hand and a headband in the other- “Let’s get you pampered!”
The camera sweeps up a set of concrete steps on the southwest side of the school, focusing on a boy sitting on the landing. The boy is Danny. He wears Nike tennis shoes, denim shorts, and a green Sony T-shirt. It is a sunny day in August 1998. It is eight months before he will die at the bottom of these stairs, wearing this shirt, in the madness of April 20, 1999. It is the umpteenth time Sue and Rich have watched the 42-second video clip, but the first time in a while. The camera zooms in on Danny. “Can we ask you some questions,” another student, an unseen narrator, asks. “Sure,” Danny says. “Do you ever use the vending machines?” the narrator asks.“Sometimes,” Danny says. “And why do you use the vending machines?“ "Well, because I don’t feel like waiting in line to buy food,” Danny says.“And how do you use the vending machines?” “I put coins in and push buttons,” Danny says. Smiles come to Sue and Rich as they think about the boy they both miss.
All these years later, Sue remembers the phone call so clearly.
It came from Bethanee Scott, whose sister, Rachel, had been murdered at Columbine. She and other family members were looking through videotapes. One looked like something Rachel had taped at school, and when Bethanee looked at it, she recognized Danny.
She called Sue.
Sue and Rich rushed over to see the tape. When they watched it, Sue’s wish was answered. Sue had other videotapes of Danny, but they’d all been filmed when he was much younger.
This was something special. This was the quintessential Danny near the end of his too-brief life. Young. Innocent. Happy.
And today it still brings smiles to the faces of Sue and Rich as they watch it. Rich half chuckles as he sees Danny on his computer screen.
“That captures his whole personality, doesn’t it?” he asks. “I mean, that’s the way we was. That was him.”
Nine Christmases have come and gone since that first, bewildering holiday faced by the Columbine families.
For Sue Petrone, nothing has ever come close to the gift in 1999 from another grieving family, a gift that, she says now, “gave me a piece of me back.”
It will always be, she believes, the best Christmas present ever.
“It’s like one of those gifts that just came out of nowhere,” she says. “I’ll be forever grateful that I have it.”
If for one minute you think you’re better than a sixteen year old girl in a Green Day t-shirt, you are sorely mistaken. Remember the first time you went to a show and saw your favorite band. You wore their shirt, and sang every word. You didn’t know anything about scene politics, haircuts, or what was cool. All you knew was that this music made you feel different from anyone you shared a locker with. Someone finally understood you. This is what music is about.