i have the best taste clearly

A Small Accident/Fluff Month-Goodnight Kisses

Okay so I wrote this along a long period of time, (like 3 months??) but I really like how it turned out, so have this. (Also kinda for fluff month I guess?)

Warnings: Language and horrible akuma I came up with.

—–———————

“Shit,” Marinette cursed, frantically trying to get out of the shower.

Of course there would be a fucking akuma attack while she was in the shower, and of course it would happen on the worst day of her life.

She had confessed her feelings to Adrien, and he had rejected her, saying he was in love with Ladybug. So basically she was competing with a better version of herself.

She groaned drying her hair, she wasn’t even upset about it. She was more angry than anything, how could she beat herself? If they started dating and it got serious, she would have to tell him anyway. Maybe she could just skip the dating part and tell him she was Ladybug?

Wrapping a towel around her body, she yelled for Tikki, there was no time to get dressed, and she would come straight home anyway, it’s not like she was going to detransform in an allyway.

Tikki came to her side, transforming the shy girl, into the confident, amazing Ladybug. The girl jumped out of her room, quickly finding Chat Noir on a near by rooftop.

“Hey Kitty,” she spoke in a monotone voice, clearly upset, and her hair was still wet from her attempted shower.

“Something wrong M'lady?” He asked, a concerned tone laced through his flirty voice.

“Not having the best day,” She made a face like she had tasted something sour, quickly waving it off, “Let’s just get to the akuma.”

“I am Solver, I will solve every problem that is thrown at me, no one should have someone get in the way of my dreams!” The light-pink haired teen laughed evilly, sending problems at people.

~~~

One akuma fight later, Ladybug had found the item that was akumatized, a book that she used to write down problems, tore it, and purified the akuma. All was well when she said ‘miraculous ladybug’ and she could go home now, thank god.

But that was too easy wasn’t it?

Chat grabbed her by the hand, stopping her from leaving. She groaned in response, having a ready mental list for reasons why she had to leave asap.

“My Lady, please, we’ve known each other for over two years now, and I just think it’s finally time we-”

“Look, I’m not having the best day here, and I really need to go, like now,” she said, in a pleading tone.

“But, LB, please, don’t you think we have to right to,” her miraculous beeped, he didn’t even pause, he’s completely serious, shit, “know? What if something happens in your civilian form and you can’t contact me? What if something happens to your kwami?” He began to list a whole page of reasons why they should know, while Ladybug just shook her head.

And, though she hadn’t registered it, her miraculous was about to run out, and when she became aware of that, she started panicking. She could see the bakery. She could see it, she could make it in time if she left now, so she turned back to Chat, to give him some form of excuse.

“Now is really not the time, I have something going on right now I need to take-” Her transformation released, the towel that was wrapped around her blowing slightly upward in the process, but it didn’t matter it was long on her anyways.

She groaned again, preparing her hand to hold the towel in place. She should’ve been more careful, how could she let something like this happen?! The first time Chat knows who she is, and she’s dressed like this?!

“Now you see what I was talking about,” she growled, angry. This whole day seemed to be filled with that emotion. Anger. It was her least favorite. Ironic.

“S-sorry Marinette, I couldn’t hold out any longer,” Tikki apologized to her holder.

“Don’t worry Tikki it’s not your fault, I should’ve been watching my time better, and someone should’ve let me go back home quicker,” she glared at her partner.

“M-Marinette? I-I’m so sorry, why didn’t you tell me you were… indecent,” he gestured to the cloth draped over her body, blushing and stammering in the process.

“Well, what did you want me to say?! ‘Oh I just got out of the shower to transform, and the only form of clothing I have is a towel’?!” She scolded, pinching her nose, “Just take me home please, we’ll talk about it there, I have all sorts of foods, surely I’ll have something to fit your kwami’s needs, and we should probably get some first aid help too,” she mumbled the last part, they both got pretty beat up, Marinette had scratches on her face, and a small gash on her shoulder that went down below her neckline, and another gash on her neck.

He simply nodded his head, scooping her up. He was still dazed from her reveal, and upset with himself for earlier. He had turned down Marinette for her, well Ladybug, who was her. He shook his head, shaking the thought, and put her down in her room.

“What kind of food does your kwami need?” She asked, nonchalantly, like the whole reveal hadn’t even matter to her.

“Camembert.”

“Tikki, do you know where the cheese is down stairs?” She asked, turning towards the small animal.

Tikki nodded, “But what about your parents?”

“They’re gone for the week on some business trip or something, and you know where the cookies are?” She nodded again, flying down the stairs to go get them as Marinette walked into her bathroom, “We’ll talk about it later okay? Can you help me with some of my scratches while we do? I’ll treat yours after of course.”

“Sure,” he said, barely loud enough for her to hear as she turned the shower water back on, and locked the door. He breathed a sigh, his transformation releasing as Plagg was thrown out of his ring.

When Tikki came back, she carried two cookies, and two small wheels of Camembert cheese, setting them down on Marinette’s desk, by her computer, beckoning Plagg to come eat.

He went over to her, starting to munch on the cheese in silence, “So you’re Chat Noir,” Tikki looked over him with critical eyes, “Are you going to let Marinette know who you are?”

“I don’t know,” he spoke quietly, so the aforementioned girl wouldn’t hear him, “I feel really bad about earlier, I mean,” he paused, “I turned her down so I could have a chance with her, or, I guess, Ladybug.” The room fell to silence once more, Tikki looking at him, feeling sorry for the boy.

She could tell he loved Marinette, even before he knew, he was too blinded by his love for Ladybug to realize it though. The small Kwami sighed, young love, every holder she’d ever had the pleasure of being the Kwami of had it. Young love was so sweet and blissful. It almost seemed like a dream.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden stop in water drops hitting the shower floor, and Tikki rushed to get Marinette some more decent clothing than what she planned to wear when she initially got out.

The spotted creature grabbed a thick strapped tank top that Marinette owned featuring Harley Quinn, and some black shorts to go with the same-colored shirt.

When she got into the bathroom Marinette thanked her companion, and rushed to get changed, she had a sports bra, knowing she would have to take off her shirt when they cleaned each other’s wounds, because of the damned cut that went down to her upper breast. She blushed at the thought, it was embarrassing, though, less than an hour ago, he had seen her in nothing but a towel, so it would be better than that at least.

She sighed, putting on the clothes in a hurry, and she hesitated before the doorknob, “Hey, I’m gonna come out, if you don’t want me to see who you are, Tikki can get you a mask I’ve been working on.

She heard a muffled thank you, and the swish of her hurried kwami to get him the mask, she finally opened the door, holding a first aid kit to help their cuts and bruises.

She sat it down, quickly pulling out the antiseptic, and bandages. She glanced over him, he had some blood seeping through his shirt. She sighed, for what felt like the millionth time today, “Take your shirt off,” a small blush covered her porcelain face as she looked anywhere but at him.

 "W-What?“ He asked, not sure if he heard her correctly.

 "Take your shirt off,” she said it more clearly this time, “You have blood seeping through it, and I can’t get to the cut with fabric over it.”

He blushed, obeying as she looked at the wound, trying so very hard not to think about the place it was.

 She pulled a large cotton ball from the first aid box, soaking it in alcohol, “This is gonna sting, but it’s the worst of your cuts, so it’s better to treat it first,” he nodded as she hesitated to put the cotton ball to his skin, eventually she did, and he hissed in pain.

 "Sorry,“ her face looked like it pained her slightly to see him in pain. She removed the cotton ball, wiping up the access rubbing alcohol with another cotton ball, and wrapping a bandage around his torso to keep it from bleeding any longer. She moved on to assess the other cuts he had, one on his bicep, and another on his cheek, that was partially covered by her make-shift mask.

 She decided to not address that now, it would come later, and if he wanted to take care of it it on his own time, that was fine. She loaded up another cotton ball, and pressed it to the small, but deep, cut in his bicep, he flinched slightly, and she let out a small, “Hold still,” as he did.

 "Now, the last one is,“ she paused for a moment, unsure of how he would react, "It’s under the mask I gave you, on your cheek. If you want to treat it on your own, that’s fine, but if you want me to do it,” she took in a sharp breath before continuing, “you’ll have to take off the mask.”

 His face drained of color, he didn’t have a first aid kit, she’d have to do it for him. He’d have to take off the mask. Seeing his fearful expression, she quickly interjected, “You can treat mine before we get to it, if you want some time to think about it, it’s a small gash, it should be fine.”

 He silently sighed in relief, and nodded, going to pick up the items, he had treated wounds before, it was a simple process. What was not so simple though, the gash on her shoulder, and once she realized what he was thinking, after she saw him staring at the cut for a while, was… she was going to have to take off her shirt.

She sighed, blushing, it was embarrassing, this boy, who she doesn’t know the real name of, was going to see her topless. Tikki wouldn’t be able to help her with it, she couldn’t do it herself, and she certainly couldn’t just leave it be to heal. So she told Chat to look away as she took it off, and when he turned back, he turned a deep shade of red.

She tried her best to act as if it didn’t phase her, but it was impossible, she was also a very deep red.

“Just get it over with already,” she breathed, looking anywhere but his face, “I can’t treat it myself, and Tikki can’t do it either, and I can’t leave it, so just do it quickly,” he nodded, trying to suppress the heat that came to his face.

Once it was over with, they both sighed in relief, and she turned to put on her tank top again. She muttered a, “Thanks,” and moved her hair so he could get the cut on her neck, it wasn’t as bad, so it would be quicker, and less painful.

They sat in silence for a while, not wanting to speak through the awkward moment, until she broke the silence, “Sorry if I seem,” she hesitated, embarrassed at her words, “a bit, moody.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, she knew he meant what caused her to act this way, and she was quick to answer, Tikki didn’t understand her point of view very well.

“I know I mentioned it earlier,” she shifted her position, “I didn’t really have the best day.”

“What happened?” he bit his lip, already knowing the answer.

“I confessed to my crush at school today, and he rejected me,” she had the slightest look of anger on her face, “I’m not sad about it or anything, just… mad, I guess,” she huffed, rolling her eyes at her own foolishness from that day.

“Are… are you mad at him?” He asked, a look of fear covered his tan face.

“No, of course not!” She quickly replied, “It just, he said he had a crush on another girl– Ladybug– how am I supposed to compete with myself? Especially when it’s Ladybug, she’s a better me, a more confident and brave version of myself.”

“I don’t know princess,” he used her civilian pet-name, making her blush slightly, “I think you’re just as great as Ladybug,” he said, hoping to cheer her up.

“You’re not jealous?” She looked absolutely shocked.

“Do you want me to be?” He smirked, making her scowl at him.

“It’s not that! It’s just, well, you’ve been regularly flirting with me for over two years, you can see where my shock comes from,” she explained as if it were obvious.

He simply shrugged in response, finishing off her last cut with a small bandaid, “So the one on my cheek,” he started.

“Can you do it yourself, or do you want me to do it?” She asked, biting her lip, anticipation filling her veins.

“Can you do it?” He asked.

“I can,” she paused, “but do you want me to?”

He nodded his head, hair bouncing ever so slightly, “But the mask,” he reached to touch said item.

“Are you sure you want me to know who you are?” She seemed more unsure of herself, unreasonable in this situation. She had already revealed her identity, “If not, then I can probably cram the cotton ball under the mask.”

She heard the small hum of their Kwamis talking in the background as he answered, “Okay.”

She let out a breath of relief, “Okay, I’ll get to work then.”

   She cleaned the cut, slightly lifting the mask to clean the end of it, he hissed in pain, alcohol did do its job, to clean the wound, but it hurt like hell. She muttered an apology, her face scrunched up in slight worry.

   “There,” she placed a bandaid over the cut, finishing it off.

   There was silence for a while, no banter, only the sound of their breathing could be heard. It was a highly awkward silence.

   “I’m sorry,” he spat out, breaking the silence, Marinette jumped in surprise.

   “What… what for?” She questioned.

   “For, everything, I guess,” he breathed, he was scared that she hated him, “It’s my fault that I know your identity, and I just wanted to apologize.”

   “Don’t sweat it, kitty,” she had a smirk on her face, “I just wish it were under different circumstances,” she laughed nervously.

   “Me too,” he muttered, embarrassed that he had rejected her earlier, only because he had a crush on her alter ego.

   Marinette looked at her clock, “It’s, um, getting late, you should probably head home.”

   “Okay,” he bit his lip, he wanted to stay and tell her how sorry he was, and how he just felt so stupid, and kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly, that it almost physically hurt. How would he deal with seeing her tomorrow, not that he knew her secret, how would it affect their relationship?

   “Hey, Marinette?”

   “Yes–” She was cut off by a kiss, and a hand placed on her cheek. A blush could be seen on her face, and she reached to hold his forearm, as if to keep his hand on her face.

   And then it hit her– she wanted this. She wanted Chat, she wanted to be with him, and she was too stupidly hooked on her feelings for Adrien to see it. Was she really that stupid? How could she be so obviously in love, but not know it?

   The kiss ended all too soon, with him pulling away from a dazed Marinette. She looked in surprise as he jumped away, blinking multiple times to regain her composure.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow,” she stammered, still slightly confused.

“Y-Yeah,” with that, he disappeared into the night.

“Tikki… did that just happen?” She asked unsure if she was dreaming, or maybe she was half asleep?

The kwami giggle in response, “I think it did Marinette.”

Words: 2868

  • Warning: OOC to the max. This is actually a continuation of a three year old post that I had rediscovered recently.
  • ----------------------------------------
  • Sherlock: *Huffs* He won't listen to me.
  • Molly: *Gently strokes her husband's cheek* Just be patient.
  • Sherlock: I have been patient for the last ten minutes!
  • Molly: *Looks out through their open bedroom door and into the silent sitting room* Reason with him in the same way you've reasoned with him before. *Looks back at her frustrated husband* You won't be able to do that if you hide here.
  • Sherlock: *Huffs and ruffles his curls* I have explained to him. I have reasoned with him. Bargained. Bribed. Even 'begged' *Points wildly to himself* Begged! *Throws his hand in the air* Me!
  • Molly: Sherlock...
  • Sherlock: *Looks pleadingly to his wife* Please, Molly. I have a case. Lestrade has a case waiting for me. *Gestures towards the sitting room* Waiting for 'us'. You have to intervene now.
  • Molly: *Contemplates for a few seconds before nodding* Okay, I'll try. *Grabs something from the bedside table* Come on!
  • *Husband and wife both goes out of their bedroom and into their sitting room.*
  • John: *Quietly sitting in the sofa and staring at the approaching couple*
  • Molly: *Moves towards the center of the room then stops a few feet away from the sofa* Hi, John.
  • John: *Nods* Hello, Molly.
  • Molly: *Stares back at her husband before facing John and kneeling*
  • John: *Eyebrows shot up but remains quiet.*
  • Molly: *Smiles softly at John before turning back to stare at her still standing husband*
  • Sherlock: *Huffs but goes and kneels beside his wife*
  • Molly: *Whispers to her husband* Why don't you try again?
  • Sherlock: *Sighs deeply but bends closer towards the floor* I have explained to you using logical reasoning. I have bargained with a fair match. I have bribed with a rich price. And I have 'begged' with utmost sincerity. Still, you remain stub-
  • Molly: *Nudges her husband* No wonder he won't listen to you! You sound like a nagging robot. My turn. *Looks straight back before lowering herself closer to the floor* Evan, sweetheart, *she says with a sweet and gentle voice* Daddy needs his scarf back now. He and Uncle John have a case and they need to go out to catch the bad guy. But it is cold outside, so he needs his scarf. Would you please give it back to daddy?
  • Sherlock: *whispers bitterly* How is that any different from what I did?
  • Evan Hooper-Holmes, 11 month old extraordinaire who had been sitting on the floor beside his godfather's leg: *clutches his prized possession closer to his body* Nooo.
  • Molly: *Still smiling sweetly* I know you like that scarf sweetie, But Daddy needs it. He'll get sick if you don't give it to him. Do you want daddy to get sick?
  • Sherlock: *protests* I don't get sick!
  • Molly: *turns back to glare at her husband before looking again at their stubborn toddler*
  • Evan "Ain't-I-the-cutest" Holmes: *Looks at his hard-earned price before staring back to his poor daddy who is now wearing his "have-pity-on-me" face* Noooooo, ba scaffy ain!
  • Molly: *leans closer to her baby and touches the edge of the blue scarf* I know, it's your sweetheart -
  • Sherlock: *protests* It's mine!
  • Molly: *looks back again to glare at her husband*
  • Sherlock: *sags in resignation* Fine...
  • Molly: *Smiles back at her son.* I know it's yours sweetheart so maybe you can let daddy use it for now? So that he won't get sick?
  • Evan "I-have-the-British-government-wrapped-in-my-pudgy-fingers-even-if-he-denies-it" Holmes: *Looks down at his precious treasure*
  • Molly: *Sees her baby boy's resolve breaking down* Tell you what Evan, while you are lending Daddy the scarf, I'll lend to you Mommy's scarf. *offers her possession that she had snatched before exiting their bedroom*
  • Evan "I-can-make-the-girls-swoon-faster-than-my-three-continents-godfather" Holmes: *Sees the elusive but equally, if not more precious treasure, goes to throw away the blue scarf and grab the pink one* Eyyyyyy.
  • Sherlock: *Sees how easy it is for his son to discard his scarf in favor of his mom's, starts to get competitive* That *points at his discarded scarf* is a vintage Paul Smith cashmere scarf that is not produced anymore! Meanwhile, 'that' *points at the black and pink scarf now being chomped by his son* is just a home knitted scarf that your mother's spinster aunt give out every year! Spawn, you clearly still need a lesson in taste!
  • Evan "I-can-make-anything-my-division" Holmes: *Stops and stares at his father*
  • Sherlock: *stares back at his mini-me, willing him to understand how far superior his scarf is over that of Molly's*
  • Evan "genius-in-the-making" Holmes: *Giggles at his silly father before taking a bigger bite of his recent acquisition*
  • John: *Stands up from the sofa and retrieves his best-friend's discarded scarf* Come on, man! You've clearly lost this one. At least now you have your 'cashmere' scarf back *Drops the scarf on the head of the still kneeling consulting detective*
  • Molly: *Giggling at the sour look of her husband* Come on, Sherlock. At least you got it back!
  • Sherlock: *Stands up and finally loops the scarf in his neck* I don't even need this, I don't get sick anyway!
  • John: *Waiting outside the flat's door* Then why did you spend 10 minutes 'begging' to get it back?
  • Sherlock: *bends down to kiss his wife goodbye* Principles, John. Principles.
  • John: *Snorts* More like, your costume won't be complete without it.
  • Sherlock: *Moves on to ruffling his son's curls before straightening up and exiting the flat* As I said. Principles.
  • ----------------
  • Edit: As @sherlolly29 asked, this is the old story written three years ago: http://creamocrop.tumblr.com/post/78315599726/a-pair-of-aquamarine-eyes-stared-at-the-expanse-of
13 (Good) Reasons Why Taylor Should Come To ITALY

Dear @taylorswift, after your last time you had a concert here in Italy (March 2011, Speak Now Tour) I realised you took your getaway car and that was the last time we’ve ever saw you. (exept for that little trip in Rome I hope you enjoyed). So I though I might as well give you some really good reasons why you should come back (…be here),

1) “Rep Tour” has 7 letters. “Italia” has 6 letters. So, according to my math: Rep Tour + Italia = Rep Tour Italia and guess what? That’s 13 letters! CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT BUT THIS AIN’T A COINCIDENCE, IT’S CLEARLY A SIGN!

Originally posted by negandarylsatisfaction

2) Food: Italy has certainly the best food and the best chefs. There are so many yummy things you’d love. Some examples? Pizza (THE REAL ITALIAN PIZZA THOUGH), Lasagne, Spaghetti, Polenta, Cannoli, Carbonara, Piadina Romagnola, Giuanduiotti and I could go on. Can you smell it? Well, just come to Italy and you’ll taste it as well! (and you’ll love it, I promise) 

Originally posted by butteryplanet

3) Wine: I noticed that you’re becoming a such a big wine stan. Well, guess who’s one of the largest (and best) wine producers? THAT’S RIGHT Y’ALL, ITALY! Also, we have some really good champagnes, we could set up a champagne sea here if you’d like, 

Originally posted by thisloveglowsforevermore

4) We never go out of Style: Italians are always very stylish, and I noticed you like our style as well since you used some cool outfits from Italian Fashion Brands in your music video “Look What You Made Me Do” like the Gucci jumper and the Bulgari jewels from the “Serpenti” collection. That’s another good reason to pay us a visit. Milan is the fashion capital after all, you wouldn’t want to miss everything this beautiful city has to offer, would you? (and you wouldn’t want to miss the chance to go shopping with your italian Swifties right? I promise we give some good adviced when it comes to fashion) 

Originally posted by charmingswift

5) Red: Your latest album is now Reputation, which means that your third to last album is Red. GUESS WHAT’S THE THIRD COLOUR OF THE ITALIAN FLAG? YES, IT’S RED! (okay, okay… it’s not valid reason, but still: please come to Italy)

Originally posted by meganbitches-blog

6) Boots: you fell in love with knee boots, didn’t you? You used them in your music video “Look What You Made Me Do” and in like… every Secret Session? We can’t blame you though, they are so cool and they suit you a lot. This is another reason why you should love Italy. Why? GUESS WHO’S SHAPED LIKE A BOOT?! 

Originally posted by vincenzooo-blog

7) People: Italian people are so nice and welcoming and the Swifties Italian fandom is full of lovely and funny people. They always make you feel at home, welcomed and loved. I’ve always felt like I’m part of a big family. And I’m sure you’d feel the same. 

Originally posted by yizr

8) Landscapes and Art: Italy has so many beautiful landscapes and it’s full of art. You could take so many beuatiful pics with your polaroid!

Originally posted by floatingonwater

9) PLEASE COME TO ITALY, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE P L E A S E, I’m begging you on my knees to come.

Originally posted by usedpimpa

10) Sales: WE MADE IT TO  #1 ON ITUNES EVEN THOUGH A VERY FAMOUS AND LOVED ITALIAN SINGER RELEASED HER ALBUM ON THE SAME DAY. Italian Swifties power! We also made everything in our power to promote Reputation and we did a pretty good job. I hope you’re proud of us! 

11) Language: hey you wouldn’t want to miss the chance to learn some Italian right? I mean, Italian is such a beautiful language and it’s also a really hot one. Not only you’ll learn the spoken language BUT also the italian signs. You know, when we talk we also gesticulate a LOT lmao. This is a unique chance btw. Below, you’ll find your first lesson on how to speak Italian. Come to Italy for part 2!

12) Islands: THERE ARE SO MANY BEAUTIFUL ISLANDS IN ITALY such as Capri, Ischia, Lampedusa, Isola D’Elba, Stromboli and so on. Wanna move to an Island? Choose an Italian Island! They’re the best and I’m not saying it just because I’m Italian lmao. 

13) I think this is the most important reason: because we love you and we really miss you a lot. Last time you’ve been here was in March 2011, it was a long time ago and we really do miss you. Some of us have been fans for such a long time but they’ve never had the chance to see you live, either because they became fans after that concert or because they were too little to attend that one. We always love and support you and seeing you in front of us and not on a computer screen… well.. it’d be the best thing it could happen to us. Please, make our dream come true.


So, I hope you’ll read this and you’ll pay us a visit. @taylorswift + @taylornation

I’d love to ask every single swiftie, Italian or not, to reblog this and tag Taylor, it’d be the best thing if Taylor saw this, and every reblog takes you 1 sec and helps us a lot.

Thank you!

Things to never say to a Hirsute girl:

Or in general, to anyone who is suffering from excess hair, whether that be trans/PCOS/or any other type of medical condition. (I understand some are more directed towards females.)


1. “Is that hair on your _________ ?”
2. “What is that rash on your _____/______ ?”
3. “Do you not get scared when it comes to being intimate with your partner?”
4. “Does your partner mind that you’re hairy?”
5. “You’re so brave, I would of killed myself if this was happening to me.”
6. “Even though you’re hairy, you still look like a girl.”
7. “You may think being hairy is the end of the world, but someone out there is worse off than you.”
8. “My Mother’s friend’s daughter has hirsutism and her’s is worse than yours.”
9. “Have you thought of lazer hair removal/ electrolysis/ shaving with a razor/ waxing/ threading/ plucking/ bleaching?
10. “So, can you get pregnant?”
11. “If you had a baby, would you be scared that it would also have abnormal hair growth, you should know better than anyone that it would be cruel to have a baby under those circumstances!”
12. “Why is your makeup so heavy - you would look so much better if it was natural!!”
13. “My friend takes _____ to control her hirsutism, why don’t you try that?”
14. “Ha ha ha, you could always join the circus as a bearded lady!!!”
15. “It’s just a little hair, it could be SO much worse, you are overreacting!”
16. “You wear such baggy clothes that cover up everything, it’s so depressing, stop being lazy, shave your body and wear something more revealing!
17. “Does your partner see you when you’re hairy?”
18. “Does it not scare you to wake up next to your partner every morning with a full face of stubble!?!?!?”
19. “Asking for laser hair removal on the NHS/Insurance would be selfish, it’s a cosmetic thing, not for actually bettering your life!”
20. “You’re such a spoil sport, you’re hairy, so what, stop making everything about you!”
21. “You know I can still see your hair through your makeup?”
22. “Maybe if you lost some weight like the doctors say, the hair would stop.”
23. “You always have to make everything about you, no one cares that you’re hairy, you’re being OTT.”
24. “Have you thought about buying a NoNo? I hear great things about them!”
25. “Maybe if you stopped buying yourself things, you could afford laser hair removal. 
26. “Ugh, I just felt your stubble brush up against my face!!!”
27. “You know, in old middle eastern history, hairy women were a sign of femininity and extreme beauty.”
28. “You should be greatful the hair is only on _____ and ______ it could be so much worse.”
29. “Did you see that bearded woman on the news the other day? That will be you in 5 years!!! Ha ha ha.”
30. “Aw no, don’t be upset, you know I’m only joking, my hairy friend!!”
31. “Your hair is getting kinda long…. Do you not thing it’s time to shave/wax/whatever it yet?”
32. “I can shave your hair for you if you want…”
33. “You would look so much better and prettier if you weren’t hairy.”
34. “Have you tried drinking _____ and eating ______ …. I read on Google it can stop excess hair growth!”
35. “It annoys me that you waste GP time going to see your doc about your hair, It is only hair.”
36. “You’re hairy because you have more male hormones, than female ones? Does that mean you are going to grow a penis lol?”
37. “Happy Birthday!!!! We bought you a gift voucher to the local spa for a full body wax! Hope you like it.”
38. “A lot of girls have this issue, you’re not the only one, relax.”
39. “I read that hirsutism means that you aren’t as developed as other humans, and are more like monkeys, is that right?”
40. “You’re a great friend, I love you and everything, but I find your hair so gross, I wish you would just control it better and take some pride in yourself!”

After having severe hirsutism for the best part of 10 years, these are just a handful of the extremely hurtful things that have been said/happened to me. Some of them were clearly meant in good taste, but a safe thing is that, unless the hirsute person brings up their hair, don’t bring it up yourself. 

- A Hirsutim sufferer

The Scarf - Newt x Reader - Part 2

Holy shit. here it is, yall. part two. finally. the original was posted almost a FULL YEAR AGO and oh man i cannot believe that. i cant believe my account is over a year old. what in the Heck. I love you guys all so much and consider this fic an apology for the unannounced hiatus I took.

Without further ado!!!!! Here is the much-awaited part two!! A lot of people asked me to tag them, so I made a separate post where I tagged them and linked here. I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: adult themes but nothing explicit. angst, followed by so much fluff you might suffocate! Part one can be found here.

You had never laid eyes on an article of clothing so beautiful before in your life. It wasn’t glitzy or overly extravagant, but it was beautiful in its purity and simplicity. The fabric fell like waves, a soft eggshell color. The plain base part of the dress was made of satin that gleamed in the thin light filtering in through the curtains that obscured the window, and the delicate overlay of Georgette fabric complimented it perfectly. It was simply incredible and incredibly simple at the same time.

You were dreading having to don the gorgeous thing, and your throat tightened at the very thought of it. Your hair was done, your makeup had been painted, your neck perfumed and your hands manicured all in preparation for the dreaded marriage, but finally slipping the dress on was the last thing you had left to do. It felt as though it the one thing that stood between you and the sealing of your fate, so final, your last admittance to yourself that yes, you were going through with this after all; it would make the whole situation seem real to you, once you physically felt that fabric in your hands and secured the suffocating corset to your body. It would solidify it all, shifting everything into place (your poor, unsuspecting organs included, if you knew anything about the nature of corsets), and you were planning to delay the finality of that as long as you possibly could. You had done so many things in preparation, but that all might as well have been a long, bizarre nightmare that you had been floating through with no real attachment. Seeing yourself in the dress would make it real, and you were in no way prepared for that.

You had been gifted with rose petals the night before by your aunt, who was now your step-mother-in-law-to-be (what a mouthful), so you smelled very faintly of rose water from your bath the night before. The wedding was to be indoors, in the ballroom of Duncan’s expansive family home, and you could hear the muffled sounds of violinists rehearsing from where you sat on the bed of the guest bedroom. Your favorite flowers were everywhere, and the air smelled vaguely of your favorite desert, which had been mass-prepared for the afterparty. Everything about the setting was lovely and perfect in the most traditional of ways, and that was precisely what twisted the whole thing into your own personal hell. Each lovely thing seemed to mock you, and you could almost hear irony’s delighted and sinister whispering of isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t it beautiful? Isn’t it perfect?

It was. It was beautiful. It should have been a dream, like what you had oft imagined as a small girl, but it now served as the setting for a hellish nightmare. It was like one big, cruel plot to ruin every last bit of your comfort and happiness. You felt sure that after this day, you would never be able to eat your favorite dessert again without getting physically sick. It would all be ruined for you. Even the nature of the situation was dreamlike, and you floated through it as if in a stupor, a serene sense of denial enveloping you and keeping you calm. The way time was seeming to slow down, to creep on, the smiling faces you couldn’t really bring into focus or recognize, the garbled way all the voices fell on your ears, the way each movement you made seemed to require conscious effort. Your heart was thundering in your ears and every part of your speech seemed automatic and unconscious. It was like you were asleep.

You got slowly to your feet and made your way over to your suitcases. They held all of the things you would need for your honeymoon in France, but there was only one thing in there that really mattered to you, and you kneeled to open your suitcase and find it.

There it lay, among a pile of your socks, pajamas, and underwear, folded and placed with such care. Your shaky hands gripped it, pulling it to your face. It was slightly scratchy and pilled, but it still brought you comfort and soft happiness. It grounded you, and made the events seem somehow both more real and less overwhelming. It still smelled like him. Like leather and earth and pine trees, like sawdust and dew, and like that one specific scent you couldn’t quite identify that was unique to him. It made you sad, but at the same time it gave you comfort by association. You got to your feet, still grasping the scarf in your hands, and went back to the bed. You laid it carefully on the soft and pricey sheets, smoothing over it with your fingers and taking a deep breath. The contrast of the cheap, slightly scratchy material of the scarf and the expensive and smooth liquid silk of the sheets against your fingers was amusing to you in some strange way; the former was your final haven and the latter, though it logically should have been more pleasant, made you feel almost physically ill. “I need you with me for this, Newt,” you murmured. “and this is the closest thing to you I’m going to have,”

You turned slowly to the dress, dread almost rooting you to the spot, but in a suddenly forceful and swift movement you pulled it off the hanger and let it pool at your feet. You stepped carefully into it and pulled it up over your slip, tugging the fabric over your hips. You felt the soft brush of the silk against the bare skin of your legs, and the Georgette fabric was almost ticklish on your shoulders. You tied the corset loosely at your back with a slight struggle, resolving to have someone else fix it later, and drew a shaky breath before turning to look in the full length mirror, but before you got a chance to look, there was a small rapping at the door. “Come in,” you called, the sickly sweet tone of your voice foreign to you. Your father swung the door open, a gentle smile on his face. He held a small box in his hands and his expression imitated happiness, but his eyes betrayed the fact that he was sad.

“You look lovely,” he said.

You smiled faintly, walking over to him. “Thank you, papa,”

You stood in silence for a moment, both unsure what to say next, shuffling uncomfortably. At last, he looked up at you and held the box out with trembling hands. His eyes were glassy, filled with affection and melancholy. “Your mother… this is one of the only things I have left from her. She purchased it for your sister’s first birthday, saying that it was for her to wear to her wedding someday, but that day hasn’t come for her yet,” he said.

You took the box, lifting the lid off carefully, and your eyes grew wide. It was pure silver, and absolutely breathtaking. The design was ornate, vinelike with leaf patterns and twists and turns, and diamonds were sprinkled strategically across it. It had a high choker collar, and the front expanded down to your chest and collarbones when you slipped it on and snapped it closed in the back. It made it somewhat hard to move your neck, but it was nothing short of stunning. You turned to look in the mirror at last, tears of both intense sadness and awe in your eyes as you regarded yourself properly for the first time.

“She would have been proud of you,” he said softly, placing his hand on your arm lightly. “For being so brave through all of this. This necklace was for your sister, but she would have wanted you to have it,”

“It’s beautiful,” you managed to croak out at last, emotion heavy in your voice. “Are these… are they real?” you murmured, brushing your fingers against the diamonds that now dotted your throat and chest.

He chuckled slightly. “Of course they are,” he said, looking somewhat nostalgic for a moment. “Your mother had…expensive tastes. She always wanted the best and most beautiful, no matter how much money she spent to get that,” he said fondly, shaking his head fondly at your mother’s habits as though spending ludicrous amounts of money had been just another endearing quirk of hers.

You tapped your fingernail against the silver, heart racing with sudden anticipation. Your mind whirled to keep up with the information he was presenting to you, and for the first time in four months you felt the genuine warmth of hope blooming in your chest. “Expensive…expensive tastes?” you spluttered out, eyes wide in something like disbelief. As though you had to see as much of this as you could to properly believe what was unfolding before you. “How expensive?”

He clearly wasn’t catching on to your implications, as he looked thoughtful for a moment. “She purchased it at an auction, I believe, for around, nine, ten thousand? It seems like so much now, but back then, it wasn’t quite so-”

You whirled around to grip his shoulders, digging your fingers in unintentionally in your excitement. “Papa. How much would this necklace sell for?” you asked wildly, startling him. He blinked at you quizzically.

“Probably about the same,”

You dropped your hands to your side, eyes glowing. “Thank you, Papa! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you cried, throwing your arms around his shoulders for a moment. Tears prickled in your eyes and your lip trembled, relief coursing through you in waves. You pulled away to look at his bewildered face for a moment. “This is just… the best gift I’ve ever received,”

He smiled a little bit, overwhelmed and confused. “Your mother did have wonderful taste,” he replied. “you apparently take after her more than I had thought,” he said with a thoughtful quirk of his mouth, clearly under the impression that your excitement was due to the fine quality of the necklace. It was due to the fine quality of the necklace, but not for the reason that he seemed to think.

You ushered him out the door swiftly. “Listen, Papa, I really need to finish getting ready, so please come get me again when it’s time for you to escort me down the aisle!” you chirped, moving to swing the door closed behind him, but pausing to look at him for a moment. “I love you, Papa. Thank you for everything you have done to support me through this,” you murmured, fondness and guilt filling you at the idea of leaving your father behind to face the wrath of his ex-future-inlaws-who-are-still-technically-his-inlaws-just-not-through-his-daughter (another mouthful, my goodness).

You whirled around. The wedding was soon, and you had no time to change into proper clothes, so you slid across the floor and grabbed one of your suitcases, flinging it open and pulling everything out with little care for tidiness. You followed suit with each of your other suitcases, sorting through the pile of your belongings to grab only the essentials and shove them into one case. You snapped that closed and threw the curtains open, undoing the latch to your window and letting the warm summer breeze in. Freedom. The wind smelled of grass, flowers and freedom.

You didn’t need to marry Duncan to get all that money. You could just sell your mother’s necklace.

You were on the first floor, and you dropped your suitcase out the window and made a move to follow it, but hesitated for a moment. You turned back quickly, snatching your wand from the dresser and waving it hastily to summon a bit of parchment and a quill. You scrawled a half-hearted explanation note with haste, the ink blotchy and smudged, and laid it on the bed before turning back to the window. You hesitated again, wand in your teeth, before slipping back to your bed to grab the scarf and toss the gawdy and awful engagement ring beside the note for good measure. You could have sold it as well, but you were much more keen on the idea of owing Duncan absolutely nothing. Without so much as a glance over your shoulder, you hastily tied the scarf around your waist and leapt back toward the window.

You swung your leg over the windowsill, not caring whether you ripped the dress, and the instant your feet were planted in the grass, you took off running as fast as you possibly could. Your feet protested due to your fancy wedding shoes that had most certainly not been designed for such exercise, but you paid it no mind. The pain was nothing bothersome, simply a complimenting factor to the exhilaration of your sudden liberation and the heartbeat thundering in your ears. The necklace was safe in its box your suitcase, and you wasted no time high-tailing it toward the woods. You couldn’t take the main road for fear of running into a bewildered guest who was still arriving (what a story they would have had to tell) and you couldn’t leave the property through the front gate, so you figured that taking a long hike through the forest was your best bet to get out of there as fast as you possibly could. Running through the forest in your fancy clothing and painful shoes was evoking some serious nostalgia, and you felt your heart tugging painfully at the thought of your best friend.

You would not go to Newt for assistance, no matter how much you longed to. Some deep romantic part of you wanted desperately to run right out of the arms of one man and into the arms of another, which your logical side told you was absolutely ridiculous. This was not for him. This was for you and for your sister. Part of you was afraid to ask anything of Newt ever again, fearing that you had caused him an irreparable amount of pain, and you figured with a pang of sadness that you would have to learn to live with that. You had never expected him to do anything about your situation because he owed you absolutely nothing in exchange for loving him. What a ridiculous notion that was. You had known him and loved him and hurt him and thoughts of him were only a very small part of your motivation for running as far from Duncan as you possibly could.

Once you were past the tree line and the house was out of sight, you slowed down some. The most dangerous part was over. You were so close to freedom. You knew for a fact that walking about two miles in these woods would lead you to a road, and you could either hitchhike with some muggle or follow the road to the town where the train station lay. You had to go. You had to get out of there, and it didn’t matter where you went to, but you had to get out and there were too many muggles around to apparate safely. Besides, you would not risk splinching or accidentally leaving your suitcase behind near that house. You didn’t want to have to set foot in Duncan’s wretched mansion ever again.

An idea sprang into your head, and you grinned as you gripped the dress in your fists and lifted it up a little so you wouldn’t trip on it as you stepped over a log. Your sister was hospitalized, which meant that her home was empty. She had been sick for a while, but only very recently had she been admitted to full-time care at a magical medical facility, so her teeny house was still just as she’d left it. The key was under the doormat! You could go there to get yourself together and change into proper clothes before finding a jeweler or someone to sell the necklace to, and you were suddenly ecstatic. Your hair caught briefly in a branch, and you untangled yourself impatiently, your carefully pinned hairdo falling out bit by bit. It was lopsided now, and you cast a bobby pin distastefully aside. You would sell the necklace, have your father collect your things from Duncan’s home, and be freed of the responsibility of marrying him. Your sister would get the treatment she needed, and you would have a shot at being happy again.

A shot at being free.

You emerged from the woods about an hour and a half later, your feet aching and your beautiful wedding dress torn and smudged with mud from dragging along the earth behind you. Twigs were caught in your hair and your makeup was smeared in a clownlike fashion as a result of your hands wiping away at the sheen of sweat that covered your face. You had never been happier in your whole life, and you found yourself giggling reflexively as you started along the road.

It wasn’t a long walk to town, and you beamed the whole way there, taking no notice to the bewildered looks you were getting from passerby. You must have been quite the spectacle, especially to muggles, with your wand clenched in one carefully manicured hand and a suitcase in the other. You were a grinning mess, dirt and sweat and makeup smudged on your cheeks and once-pristine dress, your bare arms crisscrossed with scrapes from trees and brambles and twigs and a well-loved Hufflepuff scarf tied securely around your waist. You walked into town with a slight limp, your feet still aching terribly even with your shoes off and dangling from your hand, and smiled politely at anyone you walked past. You disregarded at all looks because frankly, you didn’t give a shit what they thought of you right now. You were where you needed to be and you had done what you needed to do to get there.

The train station was nearer than you had been expecting, and you marched up to the small stand where a man was selling tickets. “Where to…” he looked up from whatever he was writing, and looked bewildered for a moment. “…Miss? Mrs?”

You replied with the name of your sister’s town, and he looked surprised. “That’s a few hours away, ma’am,” he said as he got you a ticket. “Why are you headed there, and in such a hurry?” he inquired, gaze lingering pointedly on your wedding dress.

“Cold feet,” you said with a cheeky grin, and he raised his eyebrows but didn’t question you any further. He opened his mouth to give you the price, but you were suddenly completely disinterested in anything he had to say. You gripped your wand tight and turned away, wide eyed, to look at the thin stream of people trickling out of the train station doors with disbelief written all over your features.

“Miss…us? Missus?” he called after you, but you had swept up your suitcase and were off, pain disregarded as your bare feet flew against the rough pavement. A familiar figure had caught your eye, and you broke immediately into a sprint. He was walking rapidly, anxiously, with purpose, his signature case in hand.

“Newt!” you cried, surprised and delighted as you realized that the artificial honey that had been dripping from your words for the last few months had dissolved into raw and real joy; you found yourself wondering for a fleeting moment if you were having some bizarre dream and you were about to wake up and put on your incredibly simple dress and marry Duncan for the money, but all notions of that dissolved as he turned and his eyes met yours and his face lit up in a way that you had never seen before. You were crashing into his arms in an instant, and he was real, this was real and not a dream and he didn’t smell anything like that horrid house, of rosewater or your favorite dessert or like sickly sweet and perfect flowers, he smelled like train smoke and pine and sawdust and earth and sweat and you were crying, voice raw, all of a sudden, tears coursing down your cheeks and dripping onto his coat as he gripped you, lifting you into his arms for a moment as though he, too, needed reassurance that you were real.

You said nothing for a moment, just holding each other as tight as you could, until you pulled away and gripped his face in your hands. His familiar stubble scratched against your fingers and you grinned. “Merlin’s Beard, Newt, what on Earth are you doing here?” you cried, and he grinned back at you.

“Nice scarf,” he commented, eyes flicking to your waist, where the Hufflepuff scarf he had given you only weeks before was tied securely. “and I could ask you the same question,” he teased. “Don’t you have somewhere you’re supposed to be? A wedding, perhaps?” he chuckled a little, his eyes bright and his lips fixed in an instinctive grin.

You smoothed your thumb over his cheek, laughing breathlessly. “I don’t have to marry him. I have an old necklace of my mother’s that I can sell and I’ll still have money to spare but I didn’t know until today so I had to sneak out the window of the guest bedroom in my wedding dress and hike here through the woods,” you spoke rapidly, barely pausing to breathe, let alone articulate properly.

He started laughing even harder, eyes aglow as he gripped your hips and pulled you in to steal a swift kiss. “The Occamies hatched. They finally hatched a few days ago and I sold the shells,” he said in between little fits of laughter. “I sold the silver so that maybe I could… ah,” he paused for a moment, looking exhausted and infatuated and ecstatic all at once as he studied your face.

You looked at him with unrestrained adoration in your tearful eyes. “Why?” you found yourself murmuring in awestruck disbelief.

“Perhaps so that I could take Duncan’s place as the rich suitor who would fund your sister’s treatment,” he said, chuckling some more with both relief and amusement. “Or perhaps just as an old friend who would sacrifice anything necessary to see that you are happy,” He smiled in the way that he always did, a sort of sober honesty in his eyes as he finished his statements. “Either way…I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I could have done something but chose not to,”

At this, you pulled him in hastily for another kiss. This time, it was sloppy and desperate and your teeth clacked clumsily and you smiled into it as he leaned forward. It was, without a doubt, the best kiss you had ever had. His lips were chapped and his face was unshaven. It scratched against your skin and you grinned, tugging at his hair with a giggle as he pulled away to look at you.

You gripped Newt’s hands in yours, looking at him with happiness written plainly all over your features, and tugged him up and toward the ticket man. You hadn’t noticed, but he had been watching this emotional exchange incredulously and he eyed the pair of you with a judgmental but amused expression as you approached him.

“So I assume that will be two tickets, then,”

——-

omg it’s done??? im so ????? it’s been almost a year since I posted the first one and here we are!! the scarf: part 2!!! holy heck i hope u guys like it i had so much fun with it

The Great White Way

Originally posted by playbill

Originally posted by corneillee

Based on Prompt by @blow-your-mind-tonight: Hi! Could you do an imagine where the reader loves Broadway musicals and the whole team finds out, so they take her to see a musical and all of them secretly love it?? Thanks! xx

A/N: How could I get a request about Broadway musicals and NOT have it be about Hamilton?  For anyone who has not seen Hamilton or listened to the music, there are bits of this that probably won’t make sense and for that, I apologize.  Also, sorry for the random hiatus, got hit with writer’s block.  Also, this is kind of in celebration of the fact that I’m going to see Hamilton NEXT. FREAKING. WEEK.  Still can’t quite believe it.  Any who, hope y’all enjoy!

Tagging @pleasecallmecaptain @mattymattymerduck @writingbarnes @kissofvenom922 @b-orderline @shamvictoria11 @callingmrsbarnes @barnes-and-noble-girl @coley0823 @redstarstan @badassbaker @phoebe-21-blog @marvelgoateecollection @palaiasaurus64 @melconnor2007

-

“Seriously?” you complain.  “Not a single one of you will tell me?”

“It’s a surprise,” Tony retorts.  “That’s the whole point.”

“Am I the only one that finds it terrifying that you all have been walking me down the street for several blocks, blindfolded, and not a single person has asked you any questions?” you say.

“That’s New York for you,” Nat says and you roll your eyes, although no one can see it.

“Steve,” you plead, grabbing the arm of the person to your right.  “Nope, that’s Thor.”

Keep reading

I accidentally deleted the ask so here you go @zombie-slayer sorry!

21: “I-i-i am not drunk”

The butler took one last look around the room before deciding it’s about time to put all the lights out. He took a deep breath before letting out a low sigh and heading towards the door.

He made his way towards his master’s study, already looking forward to seeing the small boy after a long day of running around making sure the other servants were not causing any chaos.

Reaching the door, he knocked twice before opening it and letting himself in; only to find Ciel’s chair empty. He let out another deep sigh before heading out to look for him.

He checked the master bedroom; finding it empty yet again. It didn’t make much sense to him as Ciel never went anywhere without his notice.

The next place he checked was the dining room where he found a small figure with his head down on the table looking somewhat asleep. Sebastian soon noticed the wine glass bottle next to the sleeping figure, causing him to rush over and check for any signs of Ciel possibly drinking it.

To his disliking, a third of the bottle was empty and a small amount of the wine was still poured in the glass that stood beside his sleeping bocchan.

Sebastian knelt down next to Ciel; removing his gloves and gently touching his master’s forehead to check his temperature. He took a moment to observe his sleeping beauty and admire the beautiful rosy blush on his cheeks before slowly reaching down to pick him up.

Ciel stirred awake the moment Sebastian’s hand made contact with his body; leaving Sebastian confused. “Don’t touch me!”

“My Lord, you’re unwell and quite frankly drunk. Let me guide you back to your bed.” Sebastian reached over once again to try and pick up Ciel; this time with no rejection from the sleepy form he was holding onto. “Why would you try that at such a young age with no permission?”

Small legs wrapped around Sebastian’s middle while weak arms held on tightly to his neck and a small face tried burying itself in his neck. “I-I simply was curious of the bloody drink and what it tasted like so I took a sip.” Ciel explained before burying his face deeper into the demon’s neck; trying to hide in any way possible. “I-i-i am not drunk.” Ciel blabbered in a small whisper that would’ve gone unheard if only a demon wasn’t the one holding him. “Do-do you know who I am? I am Earl Ciel- …wait…Ciel Earl Phantomhive!”

The demon let out a chuckle upon hearing his boyfriend lose all sense of selfishness while drunk. “Is that so, my Lord?”

Ciel lazily put his head down on his butler’s shoulder once again, “yeah…I could get my butler to fight you with..with…chopsticks! Yeah, he wouldn’t like where you’re touching right now.”

“Oh? And where might that be?”

Ciel leaned in close to his boyfriend’s ear; whispering, “the butt.”

The demon tried containing his laughter as he went along with it, “I’m sorry, young master, might I ask what was so good about that sip that made you drink almost half of the bottle? ”

“Mmhmmm” Ciel moaned as sleep made his eyelids heavy. “It tasted like…blood and…cleaning products and… revenge!!” Sebastian carried his clearly drunk boyfriend to his bedroom while trying his beat to contain his laughter.

Ciel gathered the strength to lean back and make eye contact with Sebastian, causing the butler to stand still, wondering what might be wrong. Ciel gasped before using both of his small hands to cup the demon’s face. “Sebastian!!”

The demon’s eyes widened, thinking something must’ve been wrong. “Yes, young master, is something the matter?” He tried his best to remain calm.

“Shhh I have a secret to tell you.” Ciel leaned in again hugging his butler tightly and laying his head close to the demon’s neck where he felt warm and safe.

Taking a turn, the butler let a long sigh out thanking Satan nothing is hurting the precious diamond he held close in his arms. He opened the door to Ciel’s bedroom before making his way to the bed. “What might that be?”

Ciel was set down onto the bed while Sebastian made an attempt to walk away in order to get Ciel’s sleeping clothes, only to feel a small hand grip his wrist weakly, causing him to stay still. “It’s a sad secret, don’t tell anyone.”

“Alright, my Lord” The demon couldn’t help but feel worried.

“I-i I might’ve eaten that chocolate cake Sebastian made…” a small smile appeared on Sebastian’s face, realising his boyfriend was yet still under the influence of alcohol.

“My Lord, I gave you that cake, the intention was for you to eat it.” He began preparing the small figure for bed once again. Ciel’s arms reached out to wrap around his demon’s neck once he finished dressing him.

“Yeah but I might’ve eaten the whole thing after asking Bard to help me sneak it into my office…” Sebastian began planning out hundreds and thousands of ways he could punish Bard later but what mattered right now was the boy he was taking care of. “Don’t tell him, he’ll be mad at me…”

“I like your honesty, young master, but its time for you to go to sleep.” He helped him under the covers, watching as the purple seal that marked Ciel as his got covered by pale skin and long eyelashes. This was his sign to leave but what laid there before him was a beautiful sight he couldn’t peel his eyes away from.

He stood up, making his way to the door in an attempt to exit. “Sebastian, stay.” The butler froze before turning back to once again be faced with the work of art he classed as his.

Ciel laid under piles of covers, facing Sebastian and giving him innocent puppy eyes. Sebastian knew that those eyes were far from innocent and far from kind and he wasn’t ever fond of dogs either but the puppy that was there was his and only his so how could he deny a request made by that boy.

He walked back into the room, standing next to the bed politely. Ciel looked up at Sebastian with a pout on his lips and tears in his eyes. “I’m lonely, why do you never join me?” He looked like he was on the verge of tears which broke the last bit of heart he had inside of him

Sebastian began taking the unnessecary layers of clothing as well as his polished black shoes off before lifting the covers and joining the petite figure laying on the bed whom didn’t wait long before stuffing their face into his chest as they waited to be held tightly. “I’m sorry, my Lord, I assumed you might need some rest after inappropriately drinking that wine.”

Sebastian knew it was a pointless conversation when he saw those eyelids fall heavy as sleep took over the body he held in his arms.

Ciel felt safe and far away from anything that could ever harm him. He had a protective demon’s arms wrapped around him and he knew that not even the greatest power on earth could take away Sebastian from him. “I’m not drunk, get your hands off my ass, Sebastian.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note:
Hey guys! This is my first story using that one line prompt I posted yesterday. Feel free to request more and as many times as you want. Simply state the number and the ship you want me to write about! I will repost the list of one line prompt next so you can check it out and choose if you’re interested in making a request.

I really did enjoy writing this and I know its not great but hopefully I’ll improve! Leave any feedback you have and leave me a like or comment or even repost this if you’re feeling extra nice. It means the world to me when I see all the support you guys give me.

Also just so you know, if you’ve submitted a request, I did receive it and I will hopefully write a story on it but it might take a lil bit! Sorry about that but I promise it’ll come soon!

Old Flame, New Problems (Part 16)

Prompt: You’re in a serious relationship with Sebastian Stan, when news from your first love informs you that he’s now single and in need of a friend. Will your old flame burn out or will the flames get fanned and consume you?

Word Count: 1801

Warning: language, angst, fighting (verbal), cheating, drama

Notes: This idea came to me when news hit about Hayden and Rachel splitting. Of course I’m sad that a long time relationship such as theirs is ending, but it also means he’s single sooo…Also, no hate towards Rachel. I don’t know her, don’t know what really happened between them, etc. It’s a fic and in no way reflects what I think of either of them or their precious daughter ^.^

Beta’d by my #1 gal @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the tears, Hayden begged you to stay one more night. It was already late and there were no flights anyway.

“Do me one last favor,” he had begged softly, still holding onto you. “Stay with me one more night, in the same bed.”

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Kim Namjoon appreciation post

K so my sister isn’t at all into kpop and quite frankly gets annoyed when I talk about it lol. But just recently she happened to be in a good mood when I mentioned BTS. She being the good sister that she is listened and was interested in knowing who the members are. Her type in guys are completely different then mine she likes the tall “beefy” hockey player type guys. So when she seen my bias Jimin she wasn’t too impressed.. 😑 (but that’s okay I didn’t want to share him anyway..) I continued through the list of boys and she was like “eh.. they’re alright I guess” the last guy I showed her was Namjoon and she was like “who’s that”. Her eyebrows raised. Clearly interested, I told her it was “Kim Namjoon aka Rap Monster..” She laughed and said “I guess he’s a rapper?” We both laughed and she’s like “he’s the best looking out of them all…….. *long pause* I would date him” I told her that some ppl think he’s ugly. She was horrified “are you serious.. do those ppl even have eyes?!?!??” Lol my sister is so cute and clearly has good taste. Moral of the story KIM NAMJOON IS BEAUTIFUL AND NO ONE CAN SAY OTHERWISE. Joonie keep doing you babe 😘

Originally posted by rapnamu

Mystic

Yay! I am late. This was supposed to be for day 3 under the theme of secrets, but it’s not day three anymore. Oh well.

MINOR SPOILERS FOR V ROUTE (just a bit in the first paragraph)

This was the first time MC had ever seen the eminence of a RFA party. Jaehee had somehow arranged a grand party in such little time. Everyone was delighted to see an immense success. Everyone but MC. To her everything seemed too rushed. It seemed only a day ago she found out that the RFA existed. Only an hour ago they found out Rika was alive. Only a minute ago that they found out Rika committed suicide.

Through it all, she had been with Jihyun. Although, for him, she only had a friend’s love to offer, but upon seeing his broken shape she couldn’t stop herself from repairing him. V mistook it for love; that was his fault. She went along with it; that was her crime.

The party was busier than imagined, with guests and press at almost every step waiting for the co- host and the head of RFA. In the midst of the crowd, MC remarkably made it to where the RFA stood. V and her were greeted by a flirtatious grin of Zen, an awkward smile from Yoosung, a menacing smirk from Seven, a sweet nod of Jaehee and a formal nod from Jumin.

The party was pleasant. Jumin had brought Elizabeth, much to Zen’s dismay. MC had not laughed that hard in a while. In the interim, MC got a chance to talk to Jumin. It was the strangest of things, from the scent of Elizabeth to how he handled eating a cheeseburger for the first time. No matter what it was, MC enjoyed it.

A week later, Jumin was so fascinated by MC’s ability to charm him, he invited over V and MC in hopes of chatting with her.

“Yes, that is how Jumin and I met.”

MC could not stop chuckling, “So you are telling me that Jumin crashed his toy car into your house!” she managed to say between her chuckles.

“Precisely.”

Laughter filled the room once again, only this time it was accompanied by the ring of a phone.

“Hello?” V said picking up the phone. In a second, his brows furrowed and he put down his glass of wine. The very next second, he got up.

“Jumin, I apologise but I must leave at once,” he then turned to MC, “MC, I’m sorry I have to go, but can you please stay with Jumin until I return?”

“I… Yes, but-“

“Thank you, MC, I’m sorry for this, but I cannot tell you anything now. I will be back soon,” he continued, “Jumin, take care of her.” With that he left.

“That’s Jihyun for you. Always a ton of surprise”

“Yeah, I know,” there was now an awkward silence between them. “Uh- so, how was work?”

“How was work?” Jumin said, slightly amused, “Well, I do suppose I could tell you, but I cannot guarantee how much of it you will make sense of.”

“Is it so? Do I actually seem so stupid? Believe me or not Mr Managing Director, I do possess a brain.”

“I shall see for myself then,” Jumin commented and then they just went off. Talking about anything was engaging. With each sentence, they both indulged themselves into small sips of the heavenly wine. Sip after sip, until they were so drunk that they forgot each other’s names. Correction: until MC forgot Jumin’s name. Jumin was only slightly drunk; he was a heavy drinker after all. Jumin was well aware of his surroundings. He could clearly hear her melodic laughter, see her angelic gaze and smell the alcohol in her breath. He could also certainly see her lips gradually making way to his own. And then they met. It was like fireworks. Nothing- not even numerous glasses of the best wine- could intoxicate Jumin Han, yet a simple touch of lips sent him flying. Her lips tasted like wine, one that Jumin wanted to savour. They spent a blissful moment in each other’s embrace and suddenly MC jolted back.

“No! What have I done?” her sudden movement brought Jumin to his senses. But he only starred at her.

“Jumin, what do we do now? What if V finds out?”

“Does it concern you so much?”

“I- of course, it does. V loves me; he will be heartbroken if he knows”

“Then he will not.”

The Dying Detective

Since I’ve had so little to contribute for the last two or so stories, I will try and make this one longer. :)

This might be one of my favourite stories. In fact, I like it more in canon than the Granada version (which I don’t hate). I think what struck me most about this is the obvious closeness between Watson and Holmes, a closeness I find less apparent in the Granada version due to the story line about Victor Savage and his wife. I understand that it was a necessary edition, otherwise there wouldn’t have been enough to fill out the episode but it does put the focus elsewhere and away from the intimacy between Watson and Holmes that is so evident in the story.

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Guys this was originally supposed to be for 1k but y’all are so awesome that I got 500 more followers in like three weeks!! Here’s a list of my favorite people and mutuals that I’m friends with on this cursed website!!!

@m11ke-wheeler ANGIE you are my best friend in this place and I thank you so much for tolerating both my Taylor Swift and stranger things obsessions. Your edits are literally my reason for living and I love talking to you. I’m so happy we started talking!!!

@alltoowheeler TINA your url is still my favorite thing on this website and I can already tell the group chat is going to be a total mess. You make my life just a little bit brighter whenever we talk and we clearly have the same music taste 😂😂. I’m so excited that we live so close together!!!

@plaidshlrtdays BETH this isn’t your stranger things blog but it’s the one I use to talk to you and so I’m going to tag it because I LOVE TALKING TO YOU SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️

@dadhopper ur the coolest and ilysm

Okay now for a mutual spam:

@werewolftozier @itselhopper @zoomer-maxine @maplestreet83 @beep-beeep-richie @itcouldbendoritcouldbreak @ask-the-deadman @strangereveryday @xxxmadelinexxx @tinyryder @castlebyelers @ghost-grantaire @i-wont-forget-the-goodtimes @witchywolfhard

I’m sorry this is so short but it was taking so long and I just wanted to release it and I LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU 😘😘

Say Yes To the Dress (Mini-Essay)

Prompt: (Anon) Hey screwball, what did you think of Belle’s wedding outfit in the finale? I personally loved it and I thought it was appropriate for a quiet, private wedding, but for some reason fans were complaining about. Why?

Some people on tumblr were upset … That’s it, that’s the essay! Honestly, I’m the last person to weigh in on matters of haute couture considering I’m currently sporting couture de bebe, which consists of normal clothes covered in spit-up. But since when has a stunning ignorance of the subject matter stopped me from adding my two cents? Here’s Belle’s wedding outfit:

Cute as a cloche button

I think some people are objecting to the fact that we don’t get to see Belle in a full-on fairy-tale ballgown. But remember what Miss Manners once said: that fashion consists in wearing what’s appropriate to the occasion. I’m not really sure what’s appropriate for getting hitched by the town shrink in the woods in the middle of the night, but I think Belle’s outfit comes the closest. The following dress, for instance, would not fly:

Mrs. Doolittle’s wedding dress protected her from the prying eyes of gentlemen … and bees. She had a horrid fear of bees.

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typhoid–mary replied to your post “it sucks that this is where the bar is set for comic book movies but i…”

amy adams in the tub???

Okay. The bathtub scene.

I love the bathtub scene.

Here’s why I love the bathtub scene: It’s all about Lois, about her character, her vulnerability, the nagging doubts and questions that are going to drive her arc in the movie. It’s about her relationship with Clark from her perspective.

She is naked, yes. Nakedness is not inherently objectifying. The camera never lingers over her bare flesh in an enticing way, she does not bathe seductively like a woman in a shampoo commercial. She settles into the bath to relax, to reflect, to process the violent and confusing events of her trip to Africa. Her body is symbolically bare, highlighting the intimacy of the moment, but the way the scene is shot clearly directs us to focus on her thoughts and feelings.

And then it’s implied that she and Clark have sex in a tasteful cut-away that is the opposite of voyeuristic.

This scene is the best example of appropriate, non-exploitative nudity I know of in any big budget movie.

And as I’ve said before, the first time I saw this movie, the teenage boys sitting behind me in the theater thought the bathtub scene was weird and complained about it the whole time, which I think is a fairly reliable indicator of how much it plays into the male gaze.

A Letter from a Concerned Citizen: Dalaran Coffee Is Bad.

Editor’s Note: We received this letter from a concerned citizen. The Royal Courier has sent an investigator to verify these claims.

Dear Royal Courier,

Back in October, you had noted that there was a place to grab a fantastic cup of brew at the Legerdemain Lounge. Being such a busy Gnome, I rarely have time to to enjoy such pleasantries.

Pleasantry is not the word I would use after visiting the coffee house. In fact, I would think your reporter doesn’t even know what good coffee may even taste like because this coffee was horrible!

Honestly, the best way I could describe the taste was like “rat shit”.

Where these hooligans get their coffee from should be looked into! Not by me, of course, I’m far too busy. Send one of your investigators or something.

Now that I think about this, this business is clearly a facade for something. More than likely for a way for the dirty money made from the Auction Houses to be laundered and untraceable for funding to the Burning Legion!

Now that is something worth my time investigating. Maybe you should start looking into the real stories other than “coffee”, marriage announcements, and nature expeditions! We already know nature is scary, stop reminding us!

As always,

A concerned (and very busy) Gnome

Liquid courage (Jungkook smut)

Once upon a time, I made a text post about having an idea for a Jungkook scenario that no one asked for. This is long as all hell and I’m not even the slightest bit apologetic.

I go missing in action for a while and this is what I present as a peace offering. Join the sinquisition.

Loud music invaded your ears, the heavy bass thumping in your chest as you waded through the thick crowd. Men and women alike stuck to each other like glue and swayed to the beat, their constant movement making them nearly impassable obstacles on your quest to find… anyone you were supposed to meet up with, really. “Um, excuse me… pardon… excuse me!” countless apologies were exchanged between you and the party-goers, albeit mostly one-sided on your part, as you tried to pry your way through them. For now, you made getting to the bar your goal as you had enough of the amount of testosterone that clung to the air as the music changed, the dance moves changing from the slow paced swaying to moves that were impossible to describe if not seen with your own two eyes. Perhaps you could describe it as dancing like hypnotized chickens, or was that too much of a clichéd description? However, it seemed about right. In any case, you weren’t too appreciative of the occasional hand that groped your behind. You watched with distaste as the alcohol sloshed in their glasses as they threw their hands in the air and found a partner for their dance that was slowly starting to resemble a mating ritual that you would prefer not to be part of. 

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How I lost 30+ pounds. (Dieting tips)

These are some personal tips that help me lose weight. Everybody has their own system, so this may not work out for you, but if it does then I’m glad to help!

As some personal background history, I’m 5 feet 4 inches, and my heaviest weight was 154 pounds - which is overweight for that height btw. I started dieting in April 2013, and by the beginning of September 2013, I had lost 32 pounds and was 122 pounds. 

I let myself go during the school year, however, and managed to eat my way all the back up to 140 pounds which was so not cool, so I’ve decided to begin my dieting again to go down to 120 pounds by the end of September. (I’ve already lost 5 pounds so far.)

First of all, people always tell you not to lose weight for other people but to lose weight only for yourself, and personally I think that’s some bullshit. Personally, I lost weight because I wanted to raise my self confidence. I wanted to be able to fit into the all too small cute clothes, and I wanted to be one of the “pretty” friends and have the cute fairy tail romance that exists in all the books. 

And there’s nothing wrong with that.

People call it shallow and unhealthy, but honestly just tell them to go to hell. If that’s what motivates you to lose weight, then use it! You just can’t let it control you, you can’t let that take over your mindset and force you to always look at yourself in a disgusted manner. Personally, I have a strong will, so I used my imperfections as motivation to work at them, and once I reached my goal I was perfectly fine with stopping. This doesn’t work for some people, however, and they end up letting their imperfections dictate how they live. Again, I’m only telling you guys things that helped me lose weight personally, and this isn’t something that everybody should take into consideration if they don’t have the proper will power for it.

Anyways, enough with that, let’s get to the tips! 

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Love Sick

Request: *slams fist into table* PARTY POSION PARTY POISON PLS

“How bad is it?” Party asked, hovering over Jet’s shoulder.

“Not great,” Jet replied grimly, holding the thermometer in the light to double check. “Yep, 102. Her fever isn’t going down.”

“I though this shit you gave her would work?” Party questioned, his voice laced with anger. Jet squinted up at him, clearly confused at his tone.

“I’m not a miracle worker Party, I gave her the best herbs we had and hoped they would work.” That was another beautiful thing about living in the middle of no where, the only medicine we had was the plants nearby. 

“What are we suppose to do then? Let her suffer?”

“I don’t want her in anymore pain than you do Party, but we’re kind of out of options here. It is the stomach flu, we may have to let it run it’s course…” I groaned internally at that. Jet’s herbs tasted horrible but I could deal with the bitter taste to ease some of these stomach pains. I knew that was selfish though, we should save supplies if they would only barely help.So I kept my mouth and eyes shut, letting them believe I was still sleeping. 

“Is there anything we can do?”

“I’m afraid not, I can look for some more ginger roots tomorrow by Zone 3?”

“No no, we already know that shit won’t work. What about medicine? Like pedal to the metal, hard core medicine?” Party persisted.

“Where the hell are we gonna get meds Poison? You know how much that shit costs out in the Zones.”

“Uhhh…the Vend-A-Hack! Can’t we use that?”

“They don’t keep medicine in vending machines you block. The only place you’re getting those are from Battery City or a junkie, so you’re pretty much screwed.”

“Great, fucking great,” Party half yelled. I heard a loud bang and a small yelp from Party, signaling he probably attempted to kick something.

“Easy you twit! She’s sleeping!” Jet hissed quietly. “I’m sorry Party, I really am. But’s there’s nothing we can really do about it.” Jet sighed, the bed sinking in as he sat down next to me. 

“Fine,” Party huffed, stomping out of the room.


“Are you hungry?” Kobra asked, offering me a spoonful of Power Pup. I grimaced, the sight of any food made me want to barf.

“I’m okay, but thank you Kobra.” He nodded, taking another scoop from the can. I liked it best when Kobra watched over me, he was quiet and understood that I wasn’t in the mood to talk, unlike Ghoul who figured if he cracked every two minutes it would make me feel better. It probably would, but I wanted to wallow in self pity. “Where’s Party?” I asked once I sat up, realizing I haven’t seen him all day. He usually came in when he thought I was sleeping, humming a song quietly while holding my hand.

“He went to D’s earlier, I guess the car’s been runnin’ funky and wanted him to look at it.”

“Really? Since when has Party wanted help with anything?” I chuckled lightly, my voice croaking when I raised my voice at all.

“I know huh? Damnedest thing. I guess he’s slowly starting to learn he doesn’t know everything,” Kobra chuckled, setting his can off to the side. We sat in a comfortable silence, settling into small talk every now and then when Kobra found something cool in his magazine. suddenly, there was a screeching noise outside, followed by slamming doors. Kobra jumped up in alarm, grabbing the handle of his gun. 

“Kobra?! Jet?! Ghoul?! It’ me, Cola!” Kobra sighed in relief, setting his gun back down and leaving the room to open the door.

“What the hell Cola?! I was about to blow your…shit. Oh f-fuck. What happened? What the fuck happened?!” Kobra yelled, his voice cracking in the process. 

“I don’t know! He stumbled into the station and passed out. I’ve been trying to get him to wake up the whole way here ” Cola panted out.

“Fuck, Jet! Jet come here! It’s Party!” My heart sank at the whine in Kobra’s voice. The only time I’ve heard that pitch was when he was crying, which was never a good sign. I listened to as much as I could, foot steps running, a few more yells and shouting, cabinets flying open, and the scraping of metal. I laid there practically paralyzed, my mind racing with possibilities on what was going on two doors down from me. I wanted to go in there and help, at least hold Party’s hand like he did for me. But I couldn’t. I could barely sit up without wanting to puke. All I could do was wait. My mind began to spin even more, stomach churning at the mental image of a bloody Party Poison lying on the ground. I threw up all the fluids and herbs I had in my body, feeling helpless as I eventually fell into a hazy sleep.


I awoke to Jet shaking me, his voice was quiet and tired. “Jet? What time is it?” I yawned, forcing my eyes open.

“5 o’clock. Here, I need you to take these.” I looked down at his palm, gasping at the sight. Pills. Actual pills. How did he get these? “H-How did you? Where did you…”

“I found them in Party’s pocket.”

“Is he okay? I heard…I heard…” I could barely speak with this swollen throat, looking up at him for help.

“He’s okay, pretty banged up but he’ll make it. Take ‘em.” I quickly swallowed the two tablets, washing them down with some water. I smiled to myself when I got them down successfully, knowing I should be better in a matter of days now. “He’s awake if you want to see him?” I nodded, mumbling my gratitude when Jet picked me up. He carried me down the hall to Party’s room, using his elbow to open the door. Party was laying flat on his back, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He had a huge sling wrapped around his shoulder and a black eye, a few stains of dried blood smeared across his face. I gasped lightly when I saw him, I wasn’t use to this Party. I was use to the care free leader who practically never left a fight with a scratch on him. He glanced at the door when he heard us, eyes widening slightly.

“Y/n, you’re awake…” He beamed up at me, groaning when he tried to sit up too quickly.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Jet chuckled, setting me down next to him and leaving the room with a small wink. I wrapped my arms around his neck instantly, holding him as close as possible. I breathed in his scent, reassurance flooding through me because he smelled like the same old Party Poison and he was here and alive. 

“Your eye…” I said quietly, ghosting my hand over the purple bruise.

“It’s okay, i’m okay. It’s just a bruise,” he explained soothingly, grabbing my hand and lacing our fingers together. I’ve missed his hands.

“I was so worried about you. What happened?”

“Well, I tried to make a deal with some junkies on the outskirts of Zone 4. After I got some medicine from them, I got side swiped by some dracs and got blasted in the shoulder. Pansy bastard shot me when I had my back turned,” he grumbled bitterly. “I barely got out of there, I was eventually able to loose them until I got to Cola’s. I don’t remember anything after that,” he admitted, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and rubbing it out in the ash tray. 

“You idiot!” I yelled suddenly, surprising us both. “Why would you go out to barter on your own?! We never go out alone?!” I scolded him, my voice cracking in the process. 

“I know, I know…no one thought it was a good idea. And I couldn’t just sit here and let you suffer. I had to do something.” I sighed, pulling him in for another hug. I couldn’t be mad at him, it was simply impossible. I wanted him to know how stupid he was and how dangerous his plan was, but I couldn’t. All I could do was thank whatever greater force there was for not taking him from me.

“I’m just happy you’re alive,” I mumbled into his shoulder, relaxing into his embrace.

“I was stressin’ for a minute, I didn’t even have my mask on,” he chuckled.

“Why didn’t you have it on?” He stiffened suddenly, not responding. “Where is it?” I searched his face for an answer. It hit me suddenly, how he got the medicine with the little amount of carbons we had. “You sold it, didn’t you?”

“That’s what they wanted in return, I guess the old thing is worth a lot…”

“Party, you didn’t have t-’

“I wanted to Y/n. I can make a new mask. You mean way more to me than that damn thing.”

“You loved that mask,” I persisted. As much as he was trying to brush it off, I knew how found Party was of that mask. It was his signature, what a majority of people associated him with.

“And I love you, and I had to make a sacrifice. But, it was worth it.” I smiled ear-to-ear, leaning in to kiss him. He met my lips back eagerly, ignoring the ache in his shoulder and kissing me back with equal force. 

“I love you too Party, always have.”

“I hope so, I did kinda just take a bullet for you…”