i feel strongly about ice cream

anonymous asked:

46 for Jaytim?

46. “Wanna play?” also requested by @drabblemeister

Inspired by this post by @drabblemeister and @tanekore I love you two <3


“Wanna play?” Tim asks, voice light like what he’s saying is inconsequential, something he asks every day, and while those words might be common for him, it’s the context that has Jason freezing up, eyes wide and mouth open and brain blank. Because usually when Tim asks that question, he’s talking about Super Mario Kart or Uno. 

He’s not talking about Uno right now. 

Jason rasps a small, “What?” and Tim turns those blue eyes up at him, gloved fingers still caressing the smooth, shiny metal. It looks cold.

“We could have some fun with this.” 

“F-fun. With…”

“This,” Tim affirms, holding up the cuffs. The light from a nearby sign advertising Marlboro reds for buy one get one half off glints off the chrome steel, the neon red catching on the curves and grooves and this is one time Jason doesn’t like the color red. 

“We, as in, you and I? And those?” 

“Yes,” Tim says simply. 

Jason wants to run. 

“How,” he asks, even though he already knows. 

Tim blinks. “Well, I was thinking you could put me in them.”

“Um,” Jason manages though his very dry mouth, through his sluggish mind that’s not forming any words, just a strongly negative feeling that’s pulsing, crashing like frantic waves between his ears. 

“Or,” Tim says, still sounding like he could be talking about ice cream or shoes or any other ordinary thing, “I could tie you down.”

“No!” Jason blurts out, already taking a step away, toward the end of the roof top and away. He stops himself before he gets there, the small part of his brain that’s not freaking out, yelling run, reminding him that is Tim, that Tim is good and won’t hurt him and he should talk to Tim, he can talk to Tim.

Jason breathes. “No,” he says, calmer this time. “I’m not. Not comfortable with that.”

Another small part of his brain braces for… something. Anger. Violence. A thousand questions and weird looks and rejection. 

It doesn’t come. 

Instead Tim just says, “Oh, okay,” and slips the handcuffs into a pocket on his belt, the chain links rattling. 

Jason breathes easier. 

Tim asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

And no, he doesn’t really want to talk about it, but this is Tim, and Tim is good, and he should talk to Tim, and he can talk to Tim, so he nods, and says, “Later. At home,” and Tim nods back, and that’s the end of it.


I feel so strongly about Yuuri finding out that Victor hasn’t really eaten whatever he wants for actual years and having it be, like, the push he needs to finally Kool-Aid Man through the Wall of Propriety he has built. He has never been a feeder until this moment, but Victor has not eaten ice cream in about a decade and this cannot stand a second longer. His parents have never been prouder.

À la Mode


Dean was rearranging the tubs of ice cream in the back freezer when he heard the bell on the door jingle.

“Jo, there’s a customer!” He shouted over his shoulder, hopefully loud enough for Jo to hear. He turned back to the pile of Cookies and Cream tubs that needed to be situated. He had a firm grasp on one of the slippery tubs, a mantra of ‘lift with your legs, not your back’ playing in his head, when Jo poked her head around the corner.

“This one’s for you, lover boy.” She grinned and nudged him aside, lifting the tub with ease and only slightly bruising Dean’s ego.

“What do you mean? It’s your shift on register.” She turned to look at him and cocked an eyebrow.

“A pair of blue eyes you’ve been drooling over for months says otherwise.”

“Shit, it’s Cas?” He scrambled to find his apron and standard issued Baskin Robbins visor. “What day is it? Isn’t it the 18th?”

“Last I checked, why?”

“No reason. I’ll be back.” He nearly skidded out of the storage room.

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I’ve had to unfollow so many TS blogs there are just so many people upset about not meeting taylor and getting upset that some people get to meet her more than once and of course meeting her would be great but looking at trees is also great and watching funny movies and eating ice cream and your life has to be about more than just Taylor and if not meeting her and other’s seeing her makes you feel this strongly I feel like you should take a step back like this is a big crazy life go enjoy it

So I am going through some weird infatuation phase with this guy hahahaha help me guys.

I’m a regular at this coffee shop (I go there everyday and I spend more time there than at home) and I’m friends with most of the baristas there. About a month ago, I noticed this barista. I thought he was new but he already knew my name when he took my order (which was weird bc that was the first time I noticed him). He has such a cute smile and I kind of developed a crush on him - the “you’re so cute I wanna hug you tight” type of crush. In the following days, he would say hi to me whenever he sees me and he even says bye whenever his shift is done. He asks questions like if I just came from school or if I’m already heading home. Every time I’m about to order, he recites my usual ‘caramel ice blended without whipped cream’ before I even say it. I know he’s just being nice and polite and that’s part of his job as a barista but it made me like him even more. I hate how strongly I feel about this guy I barely even know. And I hate it all the more that I don’t even have the chance to know him or see how amazing he is. I sound pathetic hahahaha

So should I go to a different coffee shop for a while and let the feelings (or whatever they are) die down? Or stay there and keep stealing glances at him when he’s not looking? SEND HELP PLS

two spoons short

oh boy kids do I have a story for yall. it’s today. and all the shit fucking things that happened to me on this goddamn day.

you see, it started with spoons

  • spoons. 
  • physical spoons that you eat with
  • ‘what’s so important about these spoons rain?’ well i’m glad you asked

you see my family had one set of silverware when i was growing up, and when my parents inherited a better set they got rid of all of them, but i managed to save a few pieces to take off to college with me. i’m nostalgic. it’s a thing.

these are the spoons i ate ice cream with my whole childhood. the spoons that i balanced on my nose. the spoons i tried to build into a catapult. these perfectly shaped, perfectly proportioned spoons. i feel really strongly about these spoons. i have two. i know each divot and ding.

so i get up, get ready, and go to eat my cereal.

There are no goddamn spoons in my drawer

  • alright, stay calm. check the clean dishes, sometimes my roommates use them. 
  • they’re not there.
  • check roommates’ silverware drawer.
  • they’re not there.
  • ask roommate if she’s seen the spoons.
  • she says no.
  • spend like 15 minutes looking for your goddamn spoons.

‘rain aren’t you running late’

YES. IM RUNNING LATE, BUT WHERE ARE MY GODDAMN SPOONS. i break down. i end up eating with my roommate’s spoon. i send my father an angry message on facebook.

  • “IT IS CHARITY TO CALL THIS MONSTROSITY A SPOON” - me, 30 minutes after waking up and frantically looking for spoons, delirious. 
  • seriously though
  • her spoon has more in common with a shovel than it does a regular spoon.

this is just the first thing to go wrong.

the day doesn’t get better.

i speak italian for a few hours in class. it drags on. i feel the urge to loose wind the entire time. it becomes a TRIAL. there’s no TIME TO EXCUSE MYSELF TO THE BATHROOM. (i eventually do, humans can only withstand so much.) IN THE BACK OF MY MIND, ALL DAY, MY PRECIOUS SPOONS ARE GONE. MY CHILDHOOD IS OVER.

(i looked damn good today though, just as an aside.)

so i get out of one class, and i head to my next one, hoping that i have time to take a 50 minute test and its pre-test before that class starts. so i take my bike the 20 meters between the two buildings, thinking it will save time.

it doesnt

i get pulled over by a bike cop for running a stop sign. on a bicycle.


  • at this point, all hope of being able to finish my test before class starts to wain
  • i’m also convinced im getting a ticket
  • when i stop i knock my bike over because i was too embarrassed to put down the kickstand

aside from being completely mortified, all i manage to do is argue with him about the color of my bike until he gives up and writes me a warning. i can’t make this shit up people. 

  • it’s clearly TEAL officer. 
  • “GREEN MY FUCKING ASS I’LL SHOW YOU GREEN WHEN I POUND YOUR ASS INTO GRASS.”- the part of my brain that thinks i can fight like The Rock, probably.

i still cant believe this happened, like 6 hours later it’s so surreal that a bike cop CHASED ME DOWN. and asked for my LICENSE AND REGISTRATION.


so i get to the hall where i have my next class, and I FLY through my pretest. i get ready to try and take on the actual test. knowing i only have one shot. and if i fuck it up i’m ruined.

i start to take the exam.

THE HALL FILLS UP WITH A CAMPUS TOUR. THEY START PLAYING MUSIC. YELLING THINGS. FUCKING PROTO-FRESHMEN. i can’t leave! i can’t close my laptop! if i do my test will fuck up and i’ll get a 0! i just have to bear it. 

it’s about half way through the day at this point and the only thoughts on my mind are:


i end up getting a 94%, through the grace of half the roman pantheon. but next fall’s freshmen better watch their backs. im holding a grudge. 

my next class passes alright, the professor wastes our time. it’s okay until SHE ASSIGNS AN ESSAY DUE TONIGHT ON WHAT WE MISSED. like excuse me. the fact that we didn’t have time to ‘reflect’ is all due to YOU, DR. TALKS-A-LOT. 

so, in the truest form of petty revenge, i refuse to leave the lecture hall until i’ve finished the assignment. they turned the lights off and left on me. i wasn’t getting up. i was completing this assignment in class with or without my professor and classmates

i finally leave to go home, only narrowly avoiding CRASHING INTO A GODDAMN COP CAR WHILE RIDING MY BIKE. IT TURNED IN FRONT OF ME. 


the fucking irony of that. THE FUCKING IRONY GUYS. i still cant believe i made it home. it’s all so surreal.

and the first thing i do when i get home?

  • can you guess?
  • if you guessed, “look for my spoons” you’re correct
  • if you guessed, spend 40 minutes looking for spoons, you win

i look everywhere, and i mean, everywhere. in my underwear drawer, under the fridge, in my shoe boxes, in my bed, under my laundry basket, in the garbage, in the garbage disposal, in the microwave. in the fridge. every place in this apartment i have ever touched, i looked for my spoons there.

i give up. 

i’m defeated. i sit down at my desk, blast ‘ain’t no mountain high enough’ in an attempt to cheer myself up. and i plow through all of my italian homework. i think we learned about adjectives today, i couldn’t tell you. i don’t care anymore. the loss of the spoons had left me a broken girl.

i call my parents, i lock my door. and i just start wailing. crying like a damn banshee while my parents freak out on the other end. every terrible thing that had happened today. just let it all out. a damn broke. my makeup was ruined. 

  • i had literal trails of mascara on my face, i thought that only happened in movies.

my roommate comes in and im like ‘can you give me a minute’ and she’s like sure. so she leaves, and then she comes back.

she hands me the spoons.

i start crying even harder, but now it’s just kind of hysteric because this all happened over spoons…. what a mess. i’m so glad they’re back.

i have no idea where she found them. i’ve been too embarassed by how i reacted to ask. i have to know though, it can’t remain a mystery forever. 

When Taylor gets a text message from Calvin saying they need to talk, she starts to freak out. Nobody ever wants to hear those words come from the person they love. Taylor has noticed Calvin hasn’t been as happy as he used to be and having to be long distance for awhile has put a strain on their relationship. Does that mean they both can’t work through it? Taylor loves Calvin and would do anything for him, but how does he feel about her and the relationship itself? She didn’t want to break into pieces without him. Without the one she loves.

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