have hopes

6

I haven’t watched the latest episode yet, and it took me way too long to realise that Reiner and Bertholdt were not, in fact, trying to dance

brain: don’t get your hopes up about nominations tuesday
me: if bandstand doesn’t at least get choreo, best actress, lighting design, and orchestration nominations i’ll burn the american theatre wing down

ltleflrt  asked:

Prompt: Jimmy and Castiel doing something mundane together, and Dean watching fondly and being so in love.

So, this wasn’t actually my next prompt, but it’s your BIRTHDAY!! SO HERE! HAVE FIC! <3

*

“Cassie, there’s flour on your nose,” said Jimmy, point a batter-coated hand toward Cas’ face.

“I’m sure there is,” Cas replied dryly. “And there’ll likely be a lot more on my face before we finish. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Jimmy managed ‘mock scandalized’ like a pro, drawing back, putting a hand to his mouth and pantomiming being utterly, completely aghast. “You heathen, who are you and what you done with my brother?”

“You know these cookies won’t bake themselves,” grumbled Cas.

“That’s true,” said Jimmy. “Dean!”

Standing in the kitchen doorway, Dean jumped. He’d only stuck his head into let them know he was back with their sandwiches for lunch - the twins had earned a break from Christmas baking - but they’d been so endearing that he hadn’t been able to…but now they were both staring at him. Fucking hell. Coughing to clear his throat and definitely not to clear away his embarrassment, Dean turned in on a heel back toward the living room.

“The cookies’ll wait,” he grimaced. “Soups on, boys!”

He stalked across the room.

Dammit, how did Jimmy and Cas always make him feel so…feel so…

How did they always make him feel?

The Panera bag sat where he’d left it on the low coffee table. Dropping to a squat to leave the couch open for Jimmy and Cas to sit on, Dean unpacked it. Only one of them actually had soup - Dean had gotten tomato soup with grilled cheese for his meal - and the twins had each gotten sandwiches. Laying them out, Dean berated himself, for being caught staring, for being a fool, for being such a sap and being head over heels in love with his roommates, with both his roommates, when one person was enough for, like, every other person on the damn planet.

No, that’s not true, I know it’s not, polyamory is a thing…

…but it’s not that simple. 

Of course it wasn’t that simple. Nothing was ever that simple.

“Sometime this year guys…” Dean trailed off mid-shout, turning toward the doorway leading to the kitchen.

Both twins stood, framed in the door way, entwined together in order to fit in the narrow space.

Dean startled so hard he lost his balance and fell flat on his ass.

Real smooth, Dean. Slay ‘um in the aisles. Way to be a heart breaker.

“Oh, there you are,” said Dean gruffly, grabbing the paper container of soup and putting it in his lap in a vain effort to pretend he’d sat down on purpose. “Well, dig in.”

“What’s going on, Dean?” asked Jimmy, wrapping an arm around Cas’ waist.

“Is this because I nixed making rum balls?” Cas added.

“What?” Dean squawked. “No! No, just…just forget about the damn rum balls, and the cookies, and eat your damn sandwiches, will you.”

There was still flour on Cas’ nose.

Fucking hell that was adorable.

Come to notice, there was cookie dough smeared on Jimmy’s cheek.

The desire to lick the confection away was near-overwhelming.

Neither budged.

Dean pointedly jammed the corner of his sandwich into his soup, slopping tomato over the side.

“Dean…”

Dean flinched.

They’d talked to him about communication.

They’d talked to him about trust.

They’d talked to him about openness and understanding.

They’d talked to him about relationships.

That Dean still couldn’t give them what they deserved from him simply went to prove how unworthy he was.

Jimmy sighed, but neither twin spoke and the silence stretched out. Dean took a big bite of his sandwich, chewed, and stared at the edge of the coffee table. Looking at them, seeing their disappointment, was agony.

Finally, after an awful lifetime, Jimmy crossed the room, picked up his and Castiel’s sandwiches, and the two went to eat elsewhere in the apartment.

I had that coming.

Repeat that to himself as he might, Dean could think of little more forlorn than sitting alone in the living room on Christmas Eve, the tree lights winking warmth and cheer, as he ate his sandwich and dreamed of being the man that the twin loves of his life were entitled to.

The next bite of sandwich tasted like ash in his mouth.

With a sigh, Dean rose and carried the debris to the kitchen, poured the soup down the disposer and chucked the sandwich in the trash. Half-creamed butter made a misshapen lump in the Kitchenaid. Dough chilled in the fridge. Several ingredient-smeared flashcards were scattered across the counters. Taking stock of the situation, Dean washed his hands, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

*

“He said he’d do better,” said Jimmy with a sigh.

“I know, but…” Castiel trailed off, shaking his head. There was no need to make excuses for Dean. They both knew why he had issues, knew how through the first two decades of his life, an admission of need, an attempt at clear communication, had been an invitation to abuse instead of an open door to understanding. 

But they’d been through this exact same sequence time and time again. Dean would do something weird, the twins would ask him what was the matter, and he’d clam up. At first, they’d tried to accept that he’d talk when he was ready, because that had been the hallmark of their childhoods, but no. Dean didn’t talk about his problems. Dean bottled them out, filled the bottle and filled the bottle and filled the bottle until it was so far past overflowing that it exploded, and next thing they knew they’d get home to find him smashed, shouting that they should get out because he wasn’t worthy, or furious that they’d forgotten to transfer the laundry, or any of a hundred surface issues overlying the primary issue, that Dean Winchester didn’t know how to use his goddamn words.

“We agreed that if he didn’t…” The regret thick in Jimmy’s voice mirrored that clenching Cas’ chest. 

They couldn’t keep doing this with Dean.

No matter how much they loved in, there was never any progress, never any correction. Nothing they said got through. Dean had said he’d do better, promised to talk to a therapist, sworn to trust them not to hurt him.

He still didn’t trust them.

God that hurt.

“I hate to do this on Christmas Eve,” muttered Cas.

“We can’t keep making excuses for his emotional constipation,” Jimmy replied firmly.

“I know…I know, but…”

Tears pooled in his eyes.

The last thing he wanted to do was break Dean’s heart.

Maybe, if we spend some time apart…

Cas knew that wasn’t true. If they sent Dean around now, he’d never trust them. This would be the end.

Something niggled at his senses as he tried to process this momentous decision. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to dump him now, when they lived together, when their families were travelling the next day…

…but there was no such thing as the right time. Castiel’s nose tickled and he rubbed it, rubbed tears from his eyes. There’d never be a good time to shatter all their lives.

Better to get it over with.

“Do you smell cookies?” Jimmy asked abruptly. Castiel frowned and sniffed. The rich smell of caramelizing sugar and heated vanilla filled his nose.

“Yes,” he said. “What…?”

The twins rose simultaneously, hurried down the hall one after the other, stepped into the kitchen. Dean leaned over the oven, hands big with oven mitts as he pulled out a tray of decorated sugar cookies. Flour streaked his brown hair and made white stains on his dark t-shirt. He straightened, set the cookie tray on the counter, and the started with a gasp.

“Shit, I didn’t see you there,” he said. “Uh…get out? Come back in five?”

“No,” said Castiel.

We’d been about to…we were going to…

“This can’t wait, Dean.” Jimmy’s voice was over-harsh, a tone Cas recognized as evidence that Jimmy was steeling himself for the worst. If Dean saw the coming danger, he gave no sign, and Cas’ chest ached for him.

“Oh…uh…okay…just…stand there one minute, okay?” Dean implored, expression open and vulnerable. No, he knows what Jimmy’s tone portends. Oh, Dean. “Please?”

Jimmy couldn’t bring himself to answer, but he met Dean’s eyes and nodded. Smiling, eyes swimming, Dean pulled out a second tray of cookies and carried both to the small in-kitchen table. Hastily, he tugged his mitts off and pulled the cookies free from the parchment paper, blowing on them and his fingers as he did.

Dean had used cookie cutters to make letters.

Words formed as Dean’s hands flew.

Sorry I suck at speaking words.

I love you.

When he was done, he beamed a hopeful expression at the twins.

“It’s not enough, Dean,” said Castiel, words breaking as Dean’s expression wavered.

“I know it’s not,” Dean replied softly. “How could it…how could I…ever be enough?”

“Dammit, Dean,” Jimmy found his courage, found his strength, raised his voice angrily. “We’ve talked about how manipulative it is when you say things like that, and–” 

“But…” Dean interrupted, met each of their eyes desperately, and said in a rush, “But you asked what was up with me. That’s what was up with me. Nothing is bad. Everything is good. Dammit I was standing in the doorway just thinking about how much I love you two bas– …two…two men and I can’t even fucking handle it. I’m trying, okay?” Fumbling at his pocket, Dean pulled out his wallet and chucked it at them. “I’m trying. But…but you do what you gotta do. I’ll be…not here.”

Dean pushed past them out of the room and stalked down the hall, slamming the door to his bedroom behind him.

“Why’d he give me his wallet?” asked Jimmy blankly, shoving it at Castiel.

Absently, Castiel opened it. In the slot where Dean usually kept his license, complete with the ridiculous picture of himself that he hated, was a new card.

Dr. Pamela Barnes, LPC

Appointment Date: 12/27 Time: 11:00 AM

“Jimmy…” Castiel breathed, turning the card toward his brother.

“No, Cas, it’s too - I can’t keep…” Jimmy forced a hoarse breath into his lungs, smeared tears across his face. “We have to–”

“He promised to try, and he is,” Castiel interrupted. He’d nearly let Jimmy talk him into an injustice. He’d not let it slide. “He told us what he’d been thinking that caused us to worry. He showed us this card. He made an appointment. Yes, it was manipulative, but he left so we could talk it over alone instead of keeping at us and begging. We told him what he had to do to fix things, and he’s doing it. You do what you want, but I’m staying.”

“I don’t want to go,” admitted Jimmy, deflating. “But this hurts, every time it hurts.”

“I know,” Castiel said, running a soothing hand down Jimmy’s back. “It’s hurts me too. It hurts him too. We’ve all been hurt, but you wanted a show of trust, and you got one. Come on, he’s probably flipping out right now. He needs us.”

“And I need him.”

“So do I.”

Grabbing a plate, Castiel heaped the cookies on it, still hot and soft from the oven, and dragged Jimmy down the hall.

He knocked on Dean’s door.

“Yeah?” Dean’s voice, muffled and hoarse, replied. A moment later he pulled the door open. A suitcase sat open on his bed, half-filled with disorganized clothes. Considering how careful Dean usually was about folding his laundry and caring for his belongings, the disheveled mess was telling.

Castiel held the plate out.

“Cookie?”

For a stunned moment, Dean looked at the words Castiel had made on the plate.

We love you.

Then he did something Castiel had never seen Dean do in all the years they’d known him, all the months they’d been together.

Dean broke down and sobbed, collapsed in on himself with a full-bodied tremble that drove him to the ground. Jimmy and Cas were beside him instantly, cookies shattering into pieces as Cas dropped the plate. Dean was more important than cookies, more important than Christmas. Holding him, comforting him, whispering endearments in his ears, Cas hoped he’d have a lifetime more opportunities to demonstrate to Dean how much they cared for and trusted him.

They still had a long way to go.

But this - this was progress.

Finally.

Thank God.

“We’re gonna be alright,” he whispered. “Dean, you’re going to be alright.”

“Thank you,” Dean gasped through his tears. “Thank you for believing in me. Without you guys, I wouldn’t…I’d never…”

“We know,” Cas promised, petting through his ears. “We–”

“I know you know,” Dean interrupted, surprisingly harshly. “But I’m going to tell you anyway. That’s what I promised, and it’s what you deserve, and it’s what I deserve, and it’s what I’m going to do. Okay?”

“Yeah, Dean, that’s okay.”

“Dean…that’s great.”

They didn’t get any more baking done that day.

There was no way Castiel was letting go of Jimmy, no way he was letting go of Dean.

We can make this work. Together, we can.

I love them both so much I can’t stand it.

I’m so glad Dean is trying to get better. 

I’m so glad we’re all trying to get better.

Together.

Only If You Say So - Part Two *SMUT*

Originally posted by punkbandsharry

Fandom: Gotham
Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Reader
Note: I’m for sure going to hell for this.
Warnings: Really badly written smut and foul language.

Part One


You had never realized how long a single minute really was until now. Time seemed to pass agonizingly slowly there in the corner of your closet, hidden in the darkness, feeling every beat of your heart pound against your chest as you waited, hoping that by some miracle Jerome would not find you. The whole house was as quiet as it was dark, with only one sound to be heard; the ginger maniac’s heavy footfalls slowly approaching.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” His voice rang out down the hall in a sing-song kind of way, like you were children playing hide and seek. Though, you supposed that’s exactly what you were doing, only death was on the line and there was absolutely no way you were going to reveal your hiding spot even if he decided to give up playing.

Keep reading

Yo. I saw a bunch of submitted OCs and decided I wanted to join in on the fun c:
Meet Solis, AKA Sun. She’s a kind woman that has a soft spot for children. Kind as she may be, Solis is also a fierce fighter– both physically and in personality… That’s how she ended up losing half of her leg… I don’t think I’ll elaborate on that story… Anyway, Solis has an unusual ability to glow and mess with people’s emotions, though it’s beyond rare for her to use the latter one, as she feels it’s quite rude to do so.

This is my first time doing digital art, so please don’t murder me for the crappy quality of the drawing above :c

Also, have a nice day! ~L.A.W.

(submitted by @tacitlyanimated)

anonymous asked:

Here's another prompt: fell sans react to meeting his hot next door neighbor on the surface?

(oh boi howdy do i have a weak spot for Red and him getting the hots for his potential/future s/o. bless you, sweet anon, for giving me the chance to indulge a little further in that ;) <3 )

Red decidedly did not have a death wish.

Even with Edge out for the day - no doubt chasing Undyne down or accidentally terrorizing parents when he walked up wordlessly with a lost child he found wandering in the park as he trained - Edge’s sense of smell was uncanny for a being without a nose, and would happily shout Red’s skull into the next century if he caught a whiff of smoke clinging to anything inside.

So without bothering to properly walk out of his room, Red tucked his box of cigarettes and his lighter in his shorts and teleported to the balcony.

Their apartment was a pretty nice one, all things considered - decent area too, now that monsters could legally integrate with society. He and Edge had been in agreement on holding onto an apartment for at least a little bit before deciding to set up permanently anywhere - the world was big up here, absurdly so, and even if they’d both feel more comfortable closer to the mountain, there were a lot of areas around the city to choose from. So here he was, leaning against the railing of their top-floor corner apartment balcony, with a view of the balconies in the building adjacent to them accompanying the view of the enormous wooded park they lived next to. It was a view that made him feel a little more at ease when his anxiety was acting up - he could grab a smoke, stare up at the sky, or do a little people watching alongside the next apartment building or in the shade of the park.

As he slipped his cigarette between his teeth and lit it , enjoying the late afternoon sun on his bones and the decent breeze picking up, he noticed that his foot started instinctively tapping - huh, he could hear a song now actually, coming from the next apartment building over, pretty loudly…

“All that I want
Is to wake up fine
Tell me that I’m alright -
That I ain’t gonna die.”

The cigarette almost dropped out of Red’s mouth.

“All that I want
Is a hole in the ground.
You can tell me when it’s alright
For me to come out.”

You were on the balcony closest to him in the next building over - top floor, corner apartment, probably a mere 50 feet away. You had a series of small clotheslines strung out towards one side of your balcony and had clipped up several shirts and what seemed to be a set of sheets for a bed. Next to you buzzed a small speaker, surprisingly loud for it’s clearly travel-intended size, and it played the song on as you shifted and swayed, tapping out the energetic beat of the song while you sang along and clipped up a pair of jeans and took down a few dry pieces of clothing to make further room.

“Hard times
Gonna make you wonder why you even try
Hard times
Gonna take you down and laugh when you cry
These lives-”

Your back was mostly towards Red, and stars was he grateful. He felt a bead of magic forming on his skull, and knew a bit of a flush had picked up on his face- because by Asgore’s shitty beard, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the figure you cut as you finished hanging up your laundry and spun around, your hips hitting side to side in perfect time, a mischievous grin on your face as your eyes closed and you sang along to the deceptively upbeat song.

“And I still don’t know how I even survive
Hard times,
Hard times -
And I gotta get to rock bottom-!”

Your foot stamped against the balcony floor, your arms thrown wide as you crowed the line to the sky.

Red’s soul jumped in his chest at the sight -

You were attractive as hell.

And then you made eye contact.

(continued below the cut… <3 / / mobile link)

Keep reading

Personal responsibility

So someone messaged me to ‘take down’ a post I’d reblogged and said it was “weird I was 4 years back into their archive”…  I wasn’t in their archive.  I had simply done a search for a funny imgur post, and their post came up.  They messaged me, very curtly, to remove it and explained why…  After hearing why, I understand, however, if this video poses such a threat, why is it still viewable and rebloggable by the general public?  This seems like a thing that should have been taken down ages ago.

There seems to be an ongoing pattern of behavior here that’s worrisome. People are holding complete strangers responsible for every trauma that has happened to them.  There’s no way we all can read each other’s minds and pasts.  Most of us are just here for fandom, jokes, cats, and general escapism.  Hell, we all have our own traumas, every last one of us.  If someone misunderstands a post you made, or reblogs a photo or video that brings bad memories for you, we have literally no idea.  You can either continue to message people (in not so nice ways) to alert them to your discomfort, or you can simply remove the thing, block it, blacklist it, etc.  That ensures your well being a lot more than continuing to expect everyone else to simply ‘know’ about your pain.

We can’t hold everyone else responsible for our own troubles, memories, traumas, etc.  Take your own well being into your hands as much as possible, as really that’s the strongest defense you have.  The rest of us might be willing to help, but it’s not a burden that should be forced onto us without us even knowing.

hiruma-musouka  asked:

I can't remember if you've covered this somewhere already, but do you recall any evidence in KHR for a person's flames being able to affect their own flames (rather than their physical body)? I had a comment about Clouds propagating their own flames which sounds like a game-breaking hack, but that hasn't stopped KHR from being ridiculous before. So now I'm wondering if that or things like Storms disintegrating their own flames would be feasible in canon. Thoughts?

Let me find stuff as evidence because that’s easy:

Ignore the music and if you can read Spanish great, otherwise just watch. Just mute it first because they switch songs towards the end and that’s distracting.

Yes, it’s Gokudera’s ridiculous plot-armor box weapon that gets to shine here. From a purely practical perspective, Sistema C. A. I. is a ridiculous weapon.

Not because of it’s artistic liberties but from lack of ease of use. For one, you do have to have 5 Flames. That severely limits who can use it to its full extent. 

For two, you have to match Flames to boxes. Which sounds easy until you have to get specific Ring to Box and remember which is which in the middle of a fight -but Gokudera’s a genius so he may not have that problem.

Three is the amount of boxes inherent to the Sistema C. A. I. I honestly have no idea how he opened half of them considering all his Rings are on one hand and he has Boxes wrapped around his other hip. That is not an easy reach and a hindrance in combat because to reach you either have to lean forward somewhat -hindering view of aerial enemies- or take the arm that’s loaded down with the cannon part of Sistema C. A. I. and lift the boxes up. Your weapon is not pointed at the enemy and your eyes likely aren’t either!

Four is that switching ‘ammo’ is not automatic. It takes time and Gokudera physically loading the canon. Which involves taking ‘old’ ammo out, switching to ‘new’ ammo and using it. Takes about three seconds? Against someone that fights close-up? Three seconds is far too long for someone who fights mid-range. As in anywhere from 5 to 30 feet away.

KHR has some speedsters. Canonically Squalo’s fast enough to prevent Adult!Fon from breaking his watch, Xanxus can keep up with Squalo, Hibari can keep up with Xanxus and Tsuna is even faster if he uses his V. R. Gloves his Leon Gloves turn into after the Vongola Ring Trial.

As a repeat, three-seconds is far too long.

Sistema C. A. I. is a functional weapon system, it works but it is not easy to use and has weaknesses inherent to it’s design that further limit its ability to be used and used effectively in all combat situations. Furthermore it has no short-range defensive capabilities beyond the bone-rings which can be breached.


Anyway, ridiculously difficult to use weapon aside, this weapon is the first showing of someone using their Flames to effect their other Flames.

We have Sun-bullets, branching Cloud beam, homing Rain beam and Gokudera’s strongest attack Storm Thunder!

So this is evidence that Flames can effect other Flames. It’s canon!

The problem is that Gokudera’s not doing this himself, even though it’s possible in theory.

Now it’s mentioned in canon that each Flame energy can be defined by ‘wavelengths.’ It’s also mentioned even earlier that each individual has their own unique ‘fingerprint’ when it comes to Flames.

Let’s give some props to Verde and his weapon-maker friends for figuring out how to make two separate ‘facts’ work well and consistently enough for making a weapon that would accept just Cloud Flames that works for every Cloud and so on.

There’s some power-loss as a trade off but no one really cares about that.

So wavelengths. They go like this:

Or they can go like this:

These are just simple Sine wavelengths, but still wavelengths.

But like all wavelengths of things that aren’t pure math, wavelengths can do some neat things.

Like amplification, depending on the size and frequency of the wavelength. Which is mathematically viable, except people aren’t. And Rings clearly have an amplification effect. So this is more of a person’s wavelength, it’s not mathematically as neat as pure Sin or Cos would be.

But you’re asking about Cloud Flames, specifically. Which are not destructive, but propagating.

Here have propagating wave packet.

Yeah, so anyone that says Cloud Flames are likely to be low-frequency? They’re lying. There’s even proof in the color of Flames:

Clouds have the highest frequency in terms of wavelength.

Now that that’s sorted out, how would Cloud Flames used on Cloud Flames work out?

So long as you can match the frequency and wavelength you’re golden. Otherwise the waves will clash and a reduction of amplification aka wavelength height/strength will occur, which would make things weaker.

In short: It’s very possible, plausibly canon and going to be tricky to pull off and very risky if you’re not practiced at it.


As for Storms disintegrating their own Flames? That’s much easier now that all the wave-stuff is there.

Storms have the largest Wavelength, so they actually have less frequency. Which means they’re really easy to disrupt with a similar strength wavelength put at the right time.

It’s just a matter of timing. Consonance vs Dissonance to use musical terms. Do it right and a you can cancel it out. In theory.

So if Bel sets the table on fire, Bel is also most able -in theory- to put it out before the table is disintegrated so long as his timing is correct. Graphically put a simple Sine and Cosine equation would cancel each other out due to wave dissonance. As people aren’t simple Sine and Cosine math there might be some embers.

In practice Xanxus would be most able to put out the table Bel set on fire, because Xanxus is clearly able to use multiple Flames simultaneously without relying on a Ring/Weapon and not messing it up and weakening the resulting Flame. Timing is crucial, which might be why Xanxus seems to ‘charge’ his Wrath Flame.

Bester’s transformation proves that Wrath is an added component to Xanxus’ Sky Flames, as additional evidence that Wrath is added to Sky Flames -see Sky Battle. His ability to use Wrath and Sky Flames with his hands and his weapons in the form of Bester and his X-guns show that he understands this not only innately but also intellectually since he makes his own guns and they had to be able to withstand both Sky and Wrath Flames.

Although if he cares if Bel set a table on fire is a different story.

anonymous asked:

I saw that one of your answers mentioned that 76 has to take some kind of medicine to stop the transformations from happening suddenly. Was there any time that he forgot or is he very good at taking it? Does he have to fight to hold it back if he doesn't? I'm so glad I get to see more werewolf/76 art again :D

Yes.