he's so tiny in their arms

Five Stages of Grief... Pt.4

A/N: This is the next part of the saga, you can find part one here, part two here and part three here.  I’m not sure about this section but I’m posting it anyway.. just as a warning this has a few mentions of “stuff from the other end” so a fair warning. I’d love to know what you think about it. 💜


Jack’s feet arched as he twisted away from the pain of a thousand tiny needles being pressed into his soles. He knew there wasn’t – he could see his feet, and the only thing touching them was his duvet. Yet the pressure was still unbearable. His whole body was being assaulted by wave after wave of sensation, each one just as unpleasant as the last but in a different way. His arms were still tingling from the vestiges of what had felt like fire being sent through his veins. He was shivering; unable to tell whether he was too hot, too cold, or the right temperature.

He closed his eyes; he didn’t know what time it was. He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness for what could easily have been days. He relished the lulls, where could slip off to sleep and get some respite. Then the spasms gripped, cramping the muscles of his legs into strange, tight positions, and nothing Jack could do would make them subside. He just had to wait them out…

And when they receded, his bones were filled with a hollow ache that sapped all the energy out of him. All he could do was lie – trying to breathe through it, as the pain crushed down into him, becoming heavier and heavier until any tiny movement made him weak and shaky again.

It seemed never ending. His whole body crying out for some – any – kind of relief. But whenever he reached that low of horrific pain, so strong he’d rather be dead than face it – cool hands caressed his skin, mopping his face with a damp cloth, and sorting where he’d become entangled in the bed covers. Jack knew it was Blake – and that kept him going.

The needle sensation had morphed into a burning heat, rippling across his feet and searing up his shins. He was lying on his back, his eyes still closed and trying to breathe in an even rhythm. His insides were writhing, fighting within him like piranhas desperate for a feed, and Jack felt like the bed underneath him was pitching as he clung on. He just needed to get back to sleep for a little while, then this feeling would surely pass.

The back of his throat felt tight and sticky; and he could feel a muscle just above his belly button giving an involuntary jerk. Then again. And again. It sent a cold, creeping sensation of discomfort right the way up his chest; he closed his mouth tight and continued to breathe evenly through his nose. His stomach was doing its best impression of a washing machine, and swallowing while lying on his back was becoming uncomfortable.

Hic-gnn!” A painful jolting of his stomach caused him to take a sharp intake of breath; he opened his eyes, floundering weakly to try and get in a most comfortable position. “Hmmmmlll…” The noise was involuntary, as was the rolling heave that travelled up his chest. Then a hand seized his shoulder firmly and rolled him over onto his side, his head flopped to the edge of the bed and a bucket was brought up towards his face. “Hrrkk!” He retched fiercely again, the quick movement over onto his side made the contents of his gut slosh alarmingly as he gasped a snatch of air in. “Hbbbrrrlllk!”

Bitter liquid flooded Jack’s mouth and he opened it, allowing it to spill into the bucket. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to look at the frothy bile now pooling in the bottom of the bucket. His chest was aching, each breath caused another gag.

K’hhhrrrr!” Jack’s eyes began to water as the sick feeling in his throat overwhelmed him. “Hicckkkll!” He brought up a small amount of chunky sick and the lingering taste of sour lasagna coated his mouth.

“That’s it,” a voice encouraged, giving his shoulders a squeeze as he spat into the bucket, “good man!”

Huuuurrrkk!” More puke forced up his gullet, and because of the awkward position Jack was lying in he felt it travel the whole way up. “Bll-eeeuuurrkk!” He retched again, feeling like an iron band was being compressed around his chest; he whimpered as a trickle of vomit ran out of the side of his mouth and down his chin. His heaves were dry now, and each felt like nails scraping at the back of his throat.

“Alright…” A cool cloth wiped the sick from his chin. “Lie back now…” Blake very gently eased Jack onto his back and he gasped for air as his stomach kept jerking infrequently. “You’re doing really well Jack.”

It didn’t feel like it. Jack felt horrific – and he wanted it to stop. He groaned aloud, curling his arms around his midriff. His back hurt, his chest ached and his belly churned. This was torture…


Blake had known things were beginning to go downhill when Jack elected to go to bed. He wasn’t one to admit defeat easily, so it was a sure indicator that he must be feeling lousy when he crawled into bed and fell asleep. Blake had thought that’d be fine, until Aiden explained exactly what opiate withdrawal was like, and Blake could feel fear bubbling inside him as he took the seat in Jack’s room to watch him. He hadn’t realised that at any point Jack could stop breathing – so he really needed to be watched constantly.

Blake was used to living on only a few hours sleep – he was pretty much hardwired to that, but now every time Jack made any kind of movement, Blake panicked. By 5am his eyes were scratchy and red from him rubbing them, but he didn’t want to go to sleep. He couldn’t wake Aiden up either, he had a placement shift at the hospital in a few hours and Blake could do that to him. He was sagging, physically, when Aiden came to check in on them before leaving. Blake wished he wasn’t going. He wished Aiden could take over for him so he could go to bed, but he had to go – so Blake took the opportunity to brew himself a coffee and wash his face to try and reinvigorate a bit. Then, wrapped in a blanket, he settled back into Jack’s computer chair and allowed himself to doze gently.

When he’d come round from the brief doze, he’d been wondering about getting himself something to eat, he was sure it must be nearly lunchtime – then Jack made a noise. Jack was curled over on his front, his face pressed into the pillow and his duvet entangled around his legs. It was a strange burbling noise like a kettle just beginning to boil. Blake had approached the side of Jack’s bed, just as a geyser of brown liquid poured from Jack’s mouth. Blake had yelped in surprise but Jack didn’t rouse from unconsciousness. He slept on, emitting a small gargle as he breathed in, as the sick dried into his pillow.

Blake snapped into action, collecting a damp flannel to clean him up and a towel to go under his head in case of any more spillages. A bucket was placed beside the bed and Blake gently sponged away the vomit clinging to Jack’s face. He didn’t wake, but the clammy, sweaty feel of his skin told Blake just how his body was coping.


That had been over five hours ago, and Blake was desperate for Aiden to  come home because he was worried and exhausted in equal measure. For how tiny Jack was he seemed to contain an alarmingly large amount of vomit. The first few waves had appeared with very little warning; a tiny wet belch which was the precipitate for a projectile amount of puke to come gushing from his mouth. Blake’s reactions had become super fast in order to get Jack over the bucket so the splatter of puke didn’t mess anywhere else, and he was able to identify an impending bout of sickness by the little flickering muscles that tensed in Jack’s belly.

What was worse now was Jack’s body was continuing to try and purge itself even though there was nothing left inside it; and the dry, grating retches turned Blake’s stomach, making him boke alongside Jack.

Jack was shivering now, panting as the urge to heave further passed, his eyes were open but he wasn’t fully awake. His unkempt hair was stuck onto his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed bright pink.

“Jack?” Blake said quietly, reaching out to mop the flannel across Jack’s sweaty face. Jack didn’t respond, he was still looking blank, like he wasn’t quite there.

Uuurrp!” Jack let out a weak, airy belch, and rubbed his hand across his chest looking pained; Blake cautiously scooped up the bucket just in case. “Urgh…” He slumped back down onto his towel covered pillow and closed his eyes; Blake watched his chest rise and fall as he laid still. Eventually he opened his eyes again and looked directly at Blake, his mouth moved, but no sound came out. “Drink…” He forced out, his mouth moving slowly as the word took a lot of effort to squeeze out.
 
“Here,” Blake perched on the edge of Jack’s bed and brought a water bottle up to his lips; Jack gulped greedily at the liquid. “Careful!” Blake warned Jack, pulling the bottle away from him in order to slow him down. Almost instantaneously an ominous gurgle issued from Jack’s belly as it suddenly received the influx of cold water and sent it straight back up.

The bucket was planted firmly on Jack’s knees just as the spurt of water came gushing from his mouth; he hung over the bin, breathing raggedly, and a small whimper escaped from him.

“It’s okay,” Blake ran his hand across Jack’s shoulder blades, “it was just a bit too much, too quickly…” Jack gave a tiny nod of his head, still taking deep breaths.

Once his breathing calmed down and he rested back, Blake rose the bottle to his mouth again. This time he took small, gentle sips, and after a few he seemed satisfied.

Blake waited until he was sure that Jack was falling asleep again before he took the bucket to wash it out. He stared at the water from the shower head, cleaning away the residue of sick from the bottom of the bucket; his eyes were blurring in and out of focus and he found himself leaning forward so the mid section of his thighs were digging into the rim of the bath. He felt an empty sort of tiredness settle behind his eyes, like his body was acting on autopilot but the rest of him wasn’t even awake. And although he longed for Aiden to come home, a niggling part of his brain told him that it wasn’t fair for Aiden to have worked a twelve hour shift and then have to come home and look after Jack…

Jack was moaning in his sleep as Blake returned the bucket to beside the bed; every so often his whole body gave a judder and a pained groan would escape his lips. Blake felt slightly redundant – what could he really do? It was difficult, and Blake yawned, he could hardly keep his eyes open.

He started awake and knew something was wrong – Jack was covered in sweat and whimpering like a dog with a thorn in its paw; the room smelled awful. With a horrid realisation Blake saw the fear in Jack’s eyes and understood – he’d had an accident.

“Jack?” Blake started, keeping his voice low and gentle, but Jack looked like he might cry.

“Get out,” Jack croaked weakly, pulling his duvet right up underneath his chin to hide his soiled sheets.

“Jack, it’s okay,” Blake tried to reassure him, although the smell in the room was turning his stomach.

“Get out,” Jack repeated more forcefully; tears were leaking out from his eyes and mingling with the sweat on his face.

“I’ll get you a towel,” Blake told him, “you just come and have a shower to clean up. Leave your bed, I’ll sort it.” Blake left before Jack could yell at him. He stood in the hallway, breathing deeply, and trying to figure out how he was going to deal with Jack’s room. The bucket might come in useful for him too…

He moved to fish a towel out from their dryer and hung it over the radiator in the bathroom, then retreated into the kitchen. He didn’t want Jack to feel any more humiliated than he already would, but he listened carefully and after a few moments he heard the door to Jack’s bedroom open then a scuttle of feet across the hall. The sound of running water came through the wall and Blake knew he was in the shower. Blake flicked the kettle on, trying to avoid the task of cleaning Jack’s room for a little longer.

He was pouring the water into his mug when he heard the bang of the front door and his heart leapt into his chest.

“Blake?” Aiden’s voice was music to Blake’s ears and he practically dropped the kettle in his haste to greet him.

“Aiden!” Blake wrapped his arm tightly around Aiden’s waist and squeezed, reassured by the tight hug he received in return.

“Are you alright?” Aiden asked as Blake held on for a few extra seconds.

“Yeah, just tired,” Blake replied, trying to put aside all of his previous thoughts now that Aiden was back. “How was your shift?”

“Fine,” Aiden was looking at Blake with an odd expression on his face. “I got to put in another butterfly IV, so I’m not far from being signed off on them.”

“That’s super!” Blake grinned, but even he could hear that the tone of his voice wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as it should be.

“Has it been bad?” Aiden inquired.

“He’s…” Blake paused, checking the water was still running. “He’s had an accident.”

“Ah…” Aiden seemed to understand. “Is that why he’s in the shower?”

“Yeah,” Blake nodded, “I told him I’d clean his room.”

“Well, why don’t I do that?” Aiden offered.

“No, Aiden – that’s not fair on you,” Blake protested, but Aiden shook his head.

“I’m a nurse, it’s no problem,” Aiden insisted, but seeing the unsure look on Blake’s face he added: “I’ll do Jack’s room if you make me a cup of tea, deal?”

“Okay,” Blake answered. The selfish part of him was really pleased that Aiden was going to do that for him. He got out another mug for Aiden and hoped that Jack would stay in the shower long enough for them to enjoy their tea. But even if he did, Blake could feel the weight of responsibility for Jack’s withdrawal bearing down on him like a physical presence.

The tired, heavy sensation which he’d felt earlier seemed to dig in further. This was merely the beginning of a long way to go…

random macgyver hcs

tagging my known mac hoes @shirostellations and @toddcowardd

  • this boy loves you and shows it in little ways all around the house
    • sticky notes with “I love you” hidden everywhere
    • tiny paperclip hearts
  • Always has a hand touching you
    • like an arm around you shoulders or waist
    • hand holding
    • something to make sure you’re still there
  • You met on a hike by the Hollywood sign
    • you asked if he could take a picture of you and your friends but he started typing on your phone to
    • “I think you’re pretty so I’m giving you my number so we can get coffee”
  • You adopt a dog together
    • and name him Angus as a joke
  • Angus MacGyver is the biggest cuddler in the world
    • cuddles in the early morning before work
    • after he gets back from business trips
    • after ;)))))))))
    • just any free time you have, he loves to hold you
  • He tries to bring you back a t-shirt from everywhere he goes for work
    • so you just have this collection of cheesy tourist shirts that have become your pajamas
  • you and Jack are bffs
    • you just get along really well and love to roast Mac together
  •  F O R E H E A D  K I S S E S
    • A L L  T H E  T I M E
  • Mac can do anything but art
    • like this boy is stick figures only
    • he just has no artistic creativity at all
  • He’s one of those people that can pick up any piece of sports equipment and be perfect at it
    • you’re highkey jealous
Why I Quit German

WARNINGS: This story is really gross and/or horrifying but also hilarious imho.  Your health always comes first, so mind the tags:  Violence, Cannibalism Mention, Suicidal Ideation, Feces, Sleep Deprivation, Airplanes, I generally had a really bad time but now it’s hysterical.  Most of the story is under the cut because it’s eight miles long.


In August of 2009 I flew back to Honolulu to do my sophomore year of college with the intention of entering 400-level german. What happened instead is the closest I’ve ever come to personally dying or actually murdering someone.

The problem started the day before my flight, when I attended a birthday party for a very dear cousin in Denver, and due to be in 1 of 2 adults present, ended up driving a bunch of teenagers home and didn’t get home until 12:30 that night.  Oh well, my flight’s at 6AM anyway, I’ll just stay up. I can sleep on the plane, I thought, like a complete fucking fool.

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things i love about Bakugou include:

  • his adorable spiky hair
  • his orange/red eyes
  • his eyes are so pretty??? he’s got long eyelashes and they’re just… so damn pretty…. wtf
  • he’s just so pretty and he looks like a tiny, angrier version of his mom and that’s adorable
  • his adorable baby sideburns
  • his BUFF ASS ARMS
  • how fucking creative he is with his powers?? like?? he’s so good at controlling his explosions and coming up with super creative ways to use them???
  • his adorable little cocky smirks
  • his “i give no fucks except actually i do but i will never fucking admit to it so shut your fucking mouth before i blow your ass up” attitude
  • how he’s an angry crier and super emotional 
  • how he’s actually pretty chill too??? when he’s not pissed off????
  • how he shows kindness by being an aggressive, angry little shit
  • how he’s a little shit in general
  • mr. “only time he smiles is when Deku gets punched in the nuts” 
  • and then he calls the kid cute
  • Bakugou no
  • how he doesn’t wear socks
  • his dumbass baggy pants. child. child pull up your pants. please. 
  • his tanktops
  • how he shows off his teeth when he’s in battle as if he’s trying to intimidate his opponents by showing his teeth like animals do
  • how tiny he looks with sleeves on but then he looks fucking hUGE in tank tops 
  • his dumbass adorable little description for his hero outfit (including KILL WITH MY KNEES and SOMETHING AWESOME!!!)
  • also his shitty little doodles of himself and the how he actually kinda sucks at art when he’s so good at everything else
  • how he’s SUPER SMART but doesn’t know how to friend
  • HOW HE’S 3RD IN THE CLASS he’s mr. blasty angry guy but BOY DON’T LET THAT FOOL YOU BOY IS SMART AS FUCK
  • “how does one show concern? oh, i know, by telling them WATCH YOUR DAMN SELF”
  • how he admires All Might so much and wants to be just like him and has built his entire view of heroes on the person he admires the most b/c in the end he’s still just a kid and still has those pure, child-like admiration and goals ten years later and nothing is going to stop him from reaching those goals 
  • (which sometimes isn’t healthy or good but. still. he’s working on it)
  • how he comes up with dumbass nicknames for people he doesn’t care about b/c he’s too lazy to remember their names unless they catch his attention and earn his respect
  • how he’s slowly growing as a person and how he’s giving out advice to his classmates and doing it willingly and helping when they feel down and he’s slowly making friends even without really knowing how but the rest of the class is noticing that he’s not just an angry little rage machine but he’s slowly getting better and trying and they’re getting inspired by him 
  • i just love everything ok
hey overwatch authors... PSA

super quick clarification because I see it SO much and it’s just a tiny pet peeve of mine. .

>>>>     Prosthetic is an adjective.

it’s kinda obscure I get that,,, but prosthetic is an adjective. it’s used with a noun. Not alone.

So like this:

  • he has a prosthetic arm
  • she took off her prosthetic legs

Not: 

  • he has a prosthetic.
  • she took off her prosthetics.

If you want to use it like that then use the noun form. Prosthesis” with the plural “prostheses”

So like this:

  • he has a prosthesis
  • she took off her prostheses

Summary: 

Prosthetic is an adjective. Do not use it alone.

Prosthesis/Prostheses is a noun. You can use it alone.

*breathes heavily* sorry if this came off as really aggressive I don’t mean it that way. it’s just something that annoys me as a person who loves grammar and syntax. I feel like it’s not commonly known so don’t feel bad at all but this is a psa!!

carry on with your marvelous writing!

Voltron PSA

The famous bonding moment, the “I cradled you in my arms!” scene that Keith references?

this sure as hell can’t be it.

They are holding hands, that’s it. No way does that qualify as “cradling someone”. 

But, BUT, Lance had to get to the cryopod somehow? Right? Someone had to carry him. Couldn’t be Shiro, he was injured himself, Pidge wouldn’t be able to lift Lance, tiny gremlin that she is, and Hunk and Coran were putting in the new crystal to fix the castle so that you know, they could actually use the cryopods. And I highly doubt it was Allura.


Ladies and gentlemen, we missed quality Klance content of Keith carrying Lance bridal style to the cryopod. The bonding moment fucking happened off-screen.

Scratching the Itch

Square Filled- Friends to lovers

Rating- Explicit

Tags- Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader, smut,

Word Count- 2300ish

A/N: For @spnabobingo. Hope you enjoy! XOXO


Hunting’s a total blast until you hit your heat. In between each cycle, you only know how much fun it is to catch a case, to get on the road and feel the rumble of Dean’s car beneath you, all open windows and loud music. The fights are always rough, but in the way that makes you feel strong, in a way that makes your muscles ache with anticipation just to think about it. And of course, there’s the feeling of knowing that you saved someone, that you stopped one small little evil and left the world a little better for it.

But then your heat hits, and you remember. Hunting is not ideal for an Omega.

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Fatherhood suits Draco Malfoy

Harry didn’t know that Draco Malfoy had a baby. As far as he knew, Malfoy didn’t even have a wife or a girlfriend. So the baby was a bit of a surprise.


The moment Harry had caught a glimpse of white blond hair in Diagon Alley, he had turned his head towards the blond man without even thinking. The sight had made him stop so suddenly that the man behind him had bumped into him. Harry had barely felt a thing. His eyes had locked on to Draco Malfoy and the bundle in his arms. There was a baby stroller next to him and Harry quickly came to a conclusion.


The bundle in Malfoy’s arms was crying at the top of his tiny lungs. The baby’s cheeks were getting red with strain. Malfoy was doing his best to calm his offspring down. Harry was watching transfixed as Malfoy pressed the baby to his chest and kissed the short pale blond hair on top of his head. He started swaying slowly. Harry noticed his lips moving but was too far away to hear what Malfoy was saying.


A minute later the baby’s cries finally came to a stop. Malfoy smiled lovingly at the baby and kissed his tiny nose before lowering him into the stroller. He arranged the blankets and straightened up when he was finished.


He started walking away, pushing the stroller and looking into it every few seconds and beam at the baby. Harry realized that happiness suited Draco. Fatherhood seemed to suit him as well. Rather well, actually.


It took Harry only a single moment to realize how fucked he was. He had somehow developed a crush on Draco Bloody Malfoy in the span of a couple of minutes. He shut his eyes and swore loudly.


(more at AO3)

baby fever [parenthood series #1]

 summary: Bucky wants a baby. || fluff & nsfw || [future]dad!bucky x reader ||

warnings: your heart will grow like the grinch at this sweet content, nsfw, smut, trying for a baby, fear of parenthood, [intentional] unprotected sex, mentions of prenancy, mentions of Steve/Natasha and their baby Sarah

note: I’ve been posting dad!bucky fics here and there, so I decided to make a legit series and stuff about it called ‘Parenthood.’ This series will show everyone how Bucky’s little family was started, and how they progress through milestones and all of that. Here’s the first part called ‘Baby Fever!’ 

Originally posted by thewiinterrsoldiier

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The First Time With Jeon Jungkook

Originally posted by jengkook

Genre : Fluff, romance,comedy,implicit language,sexual innuendos
Pairing:Jungkook x reader
Length: 29K words
Summary : This is a series based on all of your first times with jungkook, from your childhood till adulthood

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7

PART 8


Tell me your thoughts in the comments and ask box :)



THE FIRST TIME YOU CONFESSED TO EACH OTHER

2 days ago, Lusty&Nancy Bar, L.A, 00:42 AM

The scent of alcohol and smoke was heavy as Jungkook was drinking his last shot of martini before collapsing on her lap. She chuckled as she ran her soft fingers through his raven hair. Those majestic looking lips, that gorgeous nose and long lashes, could drive any girl insane at his sight, but only one girl could drive the latter over the edge. He untied his tie as he dropped it on the cold ground before making himself at home, sleeping on her lap. Jungkook was never completely drunk, but had this tendency to collapse at random moments and wake up randomly just to take off his clothes. He sniffled a few times before grabbing onto the soft hand that was caressing his ears.

“I missed you….” he murmured half coherently “…Y/N”

The girl’s face fell into a scowl as she heard your name coming out of his beautiful lips, one more time. Every time, it would be the same story. He would hit her up, they would talk for a few hours and he would end up drunk, sleeping on her lap. Who was she? His business partner Park Sooyoung. Tall, brunette, pretty and a bright future ahead of her. She made heads turn by her presence only. Being a year older than Jungkook, she often talked informally to him even if he was her superior. She never had any feelings towards the boy, but she couldn’t help but feel irritated every time he mentioned your unknown name before casually sleeping on her lap.

“Y/N… I really wonder who she is, for turning him into a mess” she sighed

“Sooyoung-ssi” Jungkook’s eyes suddenly sprung open “Do you think she still remembers me?” he unbuttons the first buttons of his dress shirt “Sometimes, I keep on wondering… if she actually cares about me?”

“Jungkook, I would like to give you an answer but—“

“It’s Mr. Jeon for you” he pointed at her before erupting in a fit of giggles “We’re still workmates remember?”

“Right… only workmates” she clenched her fist

“Mr. Jeon sounds like a sexier title as well. Right? How about Director Jeon?” he ran a hand through his hair before crouching his shoulders “That’s supposed to be my future title…” he grabbed her hand in his “Do you think I can do this?”

“I think the question should be: Do you want to do this?” she replied in a heartbroken tone

“You are right…” he laid his head back on her lap “What do I even want?” he laid the back of his hand on his forehead “I just want to go back home” he felt a tear slipping from his eyes

“Should I bring you back home?” Sooyoung smiled at him

The word home had a different meaning in Sooyoung’s suggestive context

….

Today, Dorms at Seoul University, 12:32 PM

You were sipping on your lemon tea as it was the start of a new semester in your area. You and your friends were about to have a blast for the last remaining weeks of summer before tackling another stressful term. It might’ve been your second year at Seoul University, but you never felt more than welcomed whenever stopping by campus. You’d usually go back home during the summers and get back to the dorms during the school year, but this year it was quite different, as you had to get back to the dorm earlier. Something about a change of roommates was occurring in your department. The dean’s daughter made a fuss about wanting to change rooms so they had to rearrange the rooms. Knowing that you were the only scholarship student in the residence building, they chose to make you move out to make more space for the new tenant.

“That little brat, I swear to god, she’s so spoiled and idiot” Jimin groaned as he watched you pack your belongings

“Don’t say that, Jimin” you nudged his arm “I mean, she does have a right to do this. She’s still the dean’s, one and only daughter.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that her IQ is lower than Hoseok’s grades. I despise people of her type the most”

“Why do you hate on her so much?”

“Because she ruined your summer! You had to get on a 3 hours train ride to pick up your stuff Y/N. Why can’t you realize that she’s an annoying brat? She purposely made you move your ass from your vacation break to come in town.”

“She probably didn’t mean it that way! I actually decided to drop by in advance, so stop it” you patted his arm

“Still doesn’t change the fact that you need to leave your room” Jimin rubbed his temples “Damn you, stupid Park Chaeyoung”

“I always thought she had something for you though…” you raised a brow at him “Like a tiny crush?” you winked

“W-What?! Whoah, that’s the best joke I’ve heard in a century” Jimin flushed a slight tint of red “Girls like her are what I want to avoid the most.” He scoffed “In the last two years I’ve lived on campus, I never saw a girl as whiny and as spoiled as her. Do you realize that her majesty has a personal slave that holds her goddamn haute couture Gucci bag? Even Taehyung who owns the whole Gucci collection doesn’t do that kind of shit”

“But still, she asked nicely” you replied “It’s her last year before leaving for Ireland. That’s the least I can do to help her, as a student”

“That’s the problem with you Y/N” Jimin pointed at you “You’re way too f*cking nice to be real.”

“Come on, it’s just a room” you rolled your eyes

“You’re moving to the science department dorms! Do you realize how creepy most of these guys are?”

“I always thought they were brilliant though “you grabbed your clothes “Namjoon Sunbae is such a cutie. He was the best T.A I ever had in my years here”

“Namjoon is an exception, I’m talking about the weird guys who are in the engineering department. They always become weird as f*ck around finals.” Jimin sighed “They apparently become crazy because of their work load. Take Yuta for example! He didn’t even last a semester in there! He gave up halfway and changed programs” He sighed “These poor beings.”

“Oh, are you talking about those weird rumors of them being perverts? The boys who are taking engineering at Seoul U, are cute though, well that’s what I always thought” you commented “They’re not crazy”

“Okay yes, they seem all normal, but that’s because you’re a girl. They won’t show you their real nature” Jimin pressed his back on the wall

“What about you? Mr. Psychology. Stop digging too far inside my brain with your manipulative talks” you stared at him

“What are you talking about?”

“Why are you so concerned about me, talking to the boys in engineering?” you raised a suspicious brow “Is it Jungkook who told you to look out for me, again?”

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Concept:

*whispers* Tiny Logan. We’ve all seen the fics and art where Virgil gets turned into a kid, and they’re all freaking adorable, but let me drop this scenario on you all:


- It is definitely Roman’s Fault, somehow.


- He discovers Tiny Logan, who barely speaks a word to him, just folding his arms and glaring. When his adorable toddler walk causes him to stumble, Roman scoops him up in his arms to carry him home so they can fix this.


- Logan’s glare intensifies, but that glare on a child’s face is endearing rather than intimidating.


- As soon as he sees Patton, Logan is squirming to get down and runs to him, clinging to Patton’s leg. “Want Pat-pat!”


- Patton is beside himself. On the one hand, OMG HE’S SO SMALL AND CUTE *wheeze* but on the other hand ROMAN WHAT DID YOU DO BRING MY LOGAN BACK RIGHT NOW!!!


- Virgil is never going to let anyone live this down. He is cackling. Roman regrets every life decision that brought him to this point. Then Virgil gets serious and points out that they really need Logic to be an adult so Thomas isn’t negatively impacted.


- Logan only wants Patton or Virgil to hold him. “Don’t twust Pwincey!”. Patton gently reminds him that it’s not ALL Roman’s fault and he is trying to fix it. Roman finally is allowed to hold Tiny Logan, who still uses big words and sasses him.


- Tiny Logan being filled with curiosity and wonder.


-Tiny Logan asking a million questions.


-Tiny Logan coloring pictures of outer space and babbling in child speak about it.


-Thomas starts getting this childlike curiosity and wonder whenever he learns something new, but everything else is a bit chaotic. Virgil tries to help, but organization is not his thing.


-Tiny Logan making Patton a flower crown out of dandelions “because you wike fwowers”.


-Tiny Logan hesitantly asking Roman why he hates him during bedtime story time, which leads to a whole shift in how Roman sees him.


-Tiny Logan helping Virgil, holding his hand and trusting him completely. Virgil’s heart cannot even take it.


- Tiny Logan asking Patton or Virgil to marry him someday, and the other freaking dying.


-When it’s all over, and Logan’s back to normal, he acts like he’s can’t recall his time as a child, but then he does a thing (maybe another flower crown for Patton, or a piece of poetry for Virgil) and yeah, he remembers.


This headcannon has destroyed me….

So if you didn’t see in my university video, I asked Phil to like mug me while we were getting a book and it took about 9 takes. I was like “Phil, like, there’s like… you need to like punch me a tiny bit, so it doesn’t look bad but obviously, I don’t want you to actually punch me." And Phil was like "I’m afraid I'm going to punch you,” so he kept like putting his arm, like, in the air. And I was like “look, this looks really stupid.” There’s this video somewhere of Phil just attempting to punch me about a hundred times *fond laugh*
— 

@danielhowell during his live show on the 19th of September 2017 (x)

Quotes from Dan (83/?)

Phil not wanting to hurt Dan while playing the sketch in Dan’s newest video.

anonymous asked:

Can we have more cute touchy lance I love your head cannons :')

thank yoouu of course 

  • whenever keith trains too hard and is laying on the floor resting lance will lift him up and swing him over his shoulder so his arms are dangling all useless 
    • keith will murmur strange things into his back because he’s so worn out that he doesn’t even have a filter anymore
    • lance carries him back to his room except he loses his balance at the last moment and they both go sprawling onto the bed all tangled together
  • or when lance is injured during a battle keith will pick him up and swing him over his shoulder in the same way 
    • and just start running
    • while lance is shooting over keith’s shoulder and hitting every target (ngl the image looks p badass in my head) 
    • at one point he kind of like hugs keith’s back and jokes “i got your back” and keith rolls his eyes but he’s secretly relieved lance isn’t so injured that he’s stopped making stupid jokes
  • keith shoves his face in lance’s neck a lot, especially when he’s tired, and wrap his arms around him and lance just puts his hands on top of keith’s on his stomach and supports his full weight
  • keith also likes to trace lance’s arms, especially his forearms
    • he’ll connect the tiny freckles that only show when the sun is out and lance will be like “keith that tickles stoppp” 
    • i’m very in love with the hc that lance has freckles so,, after keith discovers lance’s face gets all freckly in the sun he’ll spend like thirty minutes just sitting across from him, tracing them with a light touch that makes lance shiver 
    • he pokes one on the bridge of lance’s nose, declares it his favorite, and names it after a star 
    • and all the others too 
    • and traces them when lance is asleep on his lap 
    • he loves them so much
  • lance sits on keith’s lap with his legs beside his waist and falls asleep whilst keith is sharpening his blade or something and keith will finish and just gently lean back so lance is resting on his chest and they’re very comfy 
  • hands,, in each other’s pockets 
  • keith shoves his hands in lance’s sleeves a lot to get warm or up his shirt and lance yelps and laughs but but doesn’t move away from him and instead covers them with his own hands and keith loves him so much
    they probably do dumb suggestive things like help each other stretch
  • sparring can be,, very risqué
  • they also fix each other’s clothes when they get all rumpled (from laying around on top of each other) 
  • they’re also clumsy teenagers tho so they step on each other a lot and trip over each other and bump foreheads trying to kiss for the first time (and after that too) 
  • whenever they sleep in the same bed together they’ll move around so much and somehow lance’s feet are on keith’s head and how is he bending like that what even is happening
    • lance, laying on keith: “you’re stomach is, dare i say, soft”
    • keith: is not. i have abs 
    • lance, poking the stomach: what’s this then?  
  • when lance is getting too sappy and complimenting keith nonstop keith will get too embarrassed and his heart will start beating too fast so he’ll put his hand on his mouth and lance will lick it because he is a child 
  • thank you

what if tony keeps visiting one orphanage and the kids change and he plays with them all, but this one kid stays. maybe they’re sick, maybe they’re just unlucky, but tony watches this tiny little toddler who was barely walking grow up and learn to speak and always recognise tony with a smile

and tony thinks, well, he’s getting older, less superheroing, and he has friends with kids, and maybe … maybe …

so he gets his lawyers on it

and the next time he visits the orphanage, he doesn’t leave alone. he carries the baby in his arms, and they’re clutching him tight, still afraid tony will disappear

and tony understands and makes sure to always show he’s there and it’s a long time before he can put the kid to sleep without them fearing tony will be gone in the morning

but they get there, because they’re family now

(but he still keeps going to hospitals to hug babies who need it and to orphanages to entertain the kids bc he adopted his kid and he loves them but he doesn’t want to abandon all these other tiny little humans)

It seemed just your luck to have rented an apartment directly above a group of cultists.  

You’ve lost count of hearing their inane, rhythmic chanting below your floorboards and the faint flicker of candles around an elaborate chalk circle. You’ve complained numerous times before, but every time they’ve greeted you at the doorway in their draping red hoods, solemn-faced and muttering about bringing the ‘Great Old Ones’ back.  

For all the macabre airs that surrounded the place, the rent was cheap. Impossibly cheap. At first, you had been elated by such a turn of luck after you’d been so suddenly thrust into the adult world with both a job and school to juggle, but by now you knew why tenancy changed so quickly. But there was no way you’d be able to find another apartment this cheap. So you just tried to ignore the strangeness that lingered around you by immersing yourself in the real world outside your door, silently dreading the moments where you would have to return home.  Any other person would have turned heels long ago, but you’re just too stubborn to leave. It’s your home. You feel a sense of protective belonging over it, almost as if it’s your responsibility. 

You’ve come to expect the unusual from your living circumstances.  

     However, what you would have never expected would be a loud, unearthly rumbling that would send you sprawling to the ground, where the muted screams of cultists to waver up through the cracks in the floorboards. 

After the initial shock, apathy and exasperation set in. 

Damn it. After so many failed rituals and chants, so many nights spent reading spells from mind-destroying ancient tomes, they’ve actually done it. 

Well, at least you won’t have to deal with your downstairs neighbors anymore, you remind yourself hopefully. 

The journey down the stairs is a dark, tepid one where you blindly grope the spiraling banister, feeling as if something is just going to jump out at you like a overused horror movie cliche. Even though you try and convince yourself otherwise- damn it, you’re an adult, you shouldn’t be afraid of these things- the fear till lingers. 

The first thing you notice is the immense heat that blasts onto your face, sending trails of condensation down your already pale brow. It’ unusual because their heat is turned off all the time, even in the depths of winter. The only heat source down there is candlelight for when they carry out their unearthly rituals. But now it feels like you’re in the boiler room of the apartment block, walls almost scalding to touch. 

A smeared chalk pentacle glimmers in the shivering light of a single candle in the center of the room, it’s siblings long since extinguished. Everything in the room is scattered and overturned, the wooden floorboards blackened, but curiously not burnt. It’s as if some massive, invisible explosion has take place. The musty air is already making you nervous- something lingers in it, something that you already have the sense to know is not of this earth, that every cell i your body screams to get out of. There’s no trace of your neighbors anywhere. But you can’t help but feel as if you’re not alone, as if something is watching you from the shadows.

Maturity tells you to call the police. But you’ve tried that in the past, and nothing has ever really come from it. And if you tried describing what was down here, you were sure that they would hang up on you as a prank call. 

There’s a patter of movement from behind you. Noticing something sharp glinting from across the floor, you scrabble down to grab it, to try and protect yourself.

There’s a low clicking growl from the darkness. You feel ready to pass out from fear at any moment. You grip the knife shakily in your hand, but somehow feel even more helpless. Even when shrouded in darkness, you know that you’re powerless against whatever faces you. 

      With a shrieking cackle, something massive launches itself from the darkness with flashing white eyes and a fanged mouth trailing viscous saliva. You wait for death, but find it curiously absent. You look down to see the thing feeding on something else, and yourself completely unharmed. 

It’s a massive mass of pulsating tentacles from the waist down, slithering across the floor on them like some giant demented octopus. Above, it’s a bony white mockery of the human form, scales trailing down it’s spiky spine. Seeing it’s arms flex as it tears into it’s meal, it’s a lot more muscular than you thought. Around it’s head, you see a familiar robed hand, half-clutching a hammer. A hand that belonged to someone, one of the cultists, who was going to bring it down on you and use you as a human sacrifice. 

With a dawning shock, you realize that whatever this thing is, it just saved you. 

You move hesitantly towards it and it’s head whips around, glowing eyes burning right into your rigid form. It looks at you in a way you’ve never seen anyone look at you before, so intently, so longingly. It softens you to sympathy towards it, instead of screaming at the sight of it. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out.

You cringe at how ridiculous you must sound. You don’t even know if it can understand what you’re even saying, or if you’re really just the light snack for it after the heavy dinner of loyal cultists. Much to your surprise, it understands. A low longing growl coils out from it’s throat. It’s not even human, but you somehow feel closer to it than you’ve ever felt to any fellow member of your species. There’s more than that. You see it in it’s whole stance, aching familiar- it’s lonely.

Lonely- just like you. 

Overwhelmed by the situation, you make a quick run for upstairs. But as you’re midway up the staircase, you hear a low squelching sound. Whatever it is, it’s not about to leave you. 

     That evening was how you found yourself saddled with an unusual new roommate. He didn’t have an exact name, well at least not in human language. The most you had gotten out of him was a high-pitched series of clicks and ear-splitting squeals. 

Despite all odds, you two had somehow become amicable. True, he practically ate you out of house and home, but he was always there to listen to your day and silently comfort you from your stresses, wrapping his tentacles around you in a slimy hug. 

There were the few annoyances- while most roommates had to deal with their stuff being borrowed without permission, or not doing chores, you had to stop yours from eating neighborhood cats. 

It was nice having someone to come home to- even if that someone was actually something that was from another dimension all together. It was still nice.

Still, the memory of that night played on your mind- why had he saved you from becoming a sacrifice? Why hadn’t he just devoured you like he had with everyone else?

You sat half-curled up on the couch, a stack of junk food seated in your lap, more for him than it is for you. Beside you was your laptop. If there was anything that you loved about the new routine, it was movie night. It was a night where you could just lose yourself and forget the stresses of the world. You were so used to watching movies alone, but now you had someone else to enjoy them with. 

And you had to admit,  it was oddly endearing to see a tentacled, eldritch beast enjoy watching animated children’s movies. He shifted beside you, clawed hands shifting against the fabric of the duvet you’d put over to protect the couch from further damage. He was enraptured by the screen, toothy mouthed stretched into a wide grin. He loved movie night just as much as you did, already devouring half the stack of snacks. But you don’t mind.

Somehow you didn’t focus on the movie like you thought you would. Your mind slipped away from the action onscreen, becoming more wistful. You kept thinking about that night, about the ritual gone wrong. 

“Hey,” you suddenly remarked, “I just realized something.” 

His head instantly whipped around from the bright illumination of the screen within the dimmed room. 

“Mrnnnh?” came his curious growl. 

You suppressed a laugh at how truly catlike this hideous, tentacled monstrosity could be. 

“Two months since we met, and we moved in. I think it calls for some kind of celebration.” 

You paused. 

“I’ve…I’ve just been thinking…” 

He leaned in, both curious and concerned, sensing your obvious hesitancy. You force yourself to exhale. 

“That night…what was it about me? Everyone else…you devoured. But you left me alive. You saved me. Why? Why me?” 

The creature goes quiet. You already feel as if you’ve made a terrible mistake and feel like gingerly trying to switch the topic of conversation. But he shifts over the couch, slightly creaking it with his own immense stature.

“I…wanted to devour…wanted to devour everyone…but…” he growls in a deep, grating tone. 

His head tilts downwards towards you, making you feel absolutely tiny in the shadow of his presence. 

“…I… don’t want to eat…you. You…not meat to me.” 

He pauses for a minute, as if struggling what to say. 

”You…mean..more…to me…than…just meat.” 

You’re so shocked by the brevity of his words that it only dawns on you a few minutes later that it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him speak human words.

Squeezing back the few tears that brim within the glassy corners of your eyes, you draw close to him, allowing yourself to be embraced by his long arms. His touch is almost crushing, you know if he really tried, he could rip you apart, but you feel nothing but comfort. 

“Thank you.” you murmured softly. 

Your monster smiles down at you, revealing an array of sharp teeth, arranged in a welcoming, loving smile.