hung on u

Can we appreciate Soukoku “nicknames” for a moment?

I mean, Chuuya and Dazai have been “partners” for who-knows-how-long, often calling each other names, like ‘extra-stuff-that-comes-with-bandages(yes this is legit, courtesy of Chuuya) ‘petite mafia’, ‘tacky bastard’, ‘social misfit’ etc.

BUT THE ONE NICKNAME I REALLY LOVED WAS THEIR NAME OF EACH OTHER IN THEIR CONTACTS.

Like–

Dazai as “Mackerel/(Ma)saba/ 鯖 ?”

And

Chuuya as “Slug/Namekuji/蛞蝓?” or was it “期待外れ?

??????

me: i enjoy sherlolly, but i understand the odds of it canonically happening are not high and so will not become discouraged if i do not see it on screen. i will continue to enjoy fanworks and my own headcanons and continue to live my life peacefully

sherlock season 4 trailer: *airs* *molly cries* *sherlock says ‘i love you’*

me: 

Originally posted by collegerunningprobs

I just recently got a car and before hand I needed a ride home from my Astro lab because it went from 8-10 and the busses stop at 7 and so I had like 3 guys offer me a ride home today lmao

@poorlikeness

It takes him hours to realise that he’s left his ring there, lying where it fell.

A twinge of guilt blooms low in his belly, thumb brushing up against where the gold band ought to be, its absence marked only by the callous on his palm that usually nestles right the way up to it. His skin is softer, where the gold should armour it.

He throws down his cards, ignores the usual muttered jibes that he’s cheated, again, and waves away the crumpled pile of dollar bills on the table. Not fair, winning money from men this stupid. Sure as hell not fun. 

Some of the guys aren’t all bad. But border patrol is infamous for taking those that the army left behind – goons with more muscle than brain, and a mean streak to boot. Faraday’s here because someone has to know how to count to ten, and because it pays.

He slides the deck back into his pocket, despite the protests. They’ve got their own cards – two sets, one with pin-ups on the back, tacky red lips and grossly over-exaggerated curves, and the other with america’s 52 most wanted men. He’s not sure which he finds more distasteful.

“Where you going?” Carter asks when he heads towards the door. 

“Air,” is all he says, and the silver plated oak-leaf on his lapel means that they don’t get to question him. Unless someone walks in with a star or three, then he’s the voice of reason they all have to listen to. Not that they usually act like it.

He listens hard to make sure no one’s following him before he takes the circuitous route back to where his ring should be. She’d never forgive him, no matter what story he came up with – no matter how convincing. His boots hit the dust with a thud as he lowers himself with careless ease over a shallow drop in the rock. His flashlight illuminates the ground in a stark, white bloom as he crouches.

when u hung over and bruised and he STILL fuckin tryin u

    “Good morning, Listener!”
    Mal’s head jerked of the table and she looked around wildly before her eyes found his. Seeming unimpressed with his greeting, she groaned and took another swig from her mug. He pressed on.
    “How’re you feeling?” He asked pleasantly, sitting down in the chair opposite hers at the small table
    “Like death.” She grunted, pulling her hood lower. Her disposition towards him seemed even worse than last night.
    “I’m sure Babette will have something for your headache if you ask.” He offered, still hopeful she would warm up to him.
    “I’d rather just suffer” Mal replied, propping her head up with her hand. He got the impression she was trying to avoid everyone.
    “Cicero could get it for you if you prefer-”
    “I said no!” She snapped suddenly, finally lifting her head to glare at him.
    His presumptions about the impacts of Arnbjorn’s blow were correct; half of Mal’s face was purple from her hairline to her cheek, right eye swollen. He couldn’t tell where the bruise he’d given her ended and the one from last night began. A small surge of guilt ran through him at the memory of her head cracking against the stone wall not five feet from him.
    “You’ve done nothing but make my life difficult since you got here. I think you need to just leave me alone for a while.” She told him, her voice hard and accusing.
    Guilt forgotten, Cicero was immediately indignant; he’d made her life difficult? He’d waited ages and ages for Mother to choose her Listener only to have it turn out to be this ungrateful little girl who broke tenants and listened to that pretender Astrid instead of Mother and picked fights with werewolves and she had the audacity to think this was his fault?
    He opened his mouth to say as much before stopping himself. It wouldn’t do to incessantly argue with the Listener, certainly not right in front of Mother’s tomb
    He exhaled through his nose hard. “As you wish, my Listener.” he replied, not entirely able to keep the anger from his voice.
    “And I’ll thank you to lose the sarcasm, too.” She grumbled, and he was saved the grief of responding when she got up and left the room, forgetting her pitch black coffee.

SIGNS AS SHITTY FIRST MESSAGES ON GRINDR

~THE SIGNS AS SHITTY FIRST MESSAGES ON UR FAVE APP~

ARIES: i’m hung, whats up?

TAURUS: hey u masc?

GEMINI: top or bottom?

CANCER: will u “XYZ” for $$$?

LEO: can i suck u?

VIRGO: hey are you looking for a daddy ;) ??

LIBRA: mmmm u r so hot

SCORPIO: horny top here, how r u?

SAGITTARIUS:  i’ve seen u at *insert local gay bar* heaps! whats up?!!

CAPRICORN: ass pic?

AQUARIUS: *dick pic*

PISCES: did you used to be XYZ’s bf?