i know it's huge sorry not sorry

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Lean On Me | A belated birthday gift to my stupid friend @seveanteen

Okay but can we talk about the fact that even Victor has insecurities?

And this is huge because Victor knows that he’s beautiful, and he knows that he’s irresistible, and he knows that he’s extremely skilled and he knows that no one can hold a candle to his skating and we’d be ready to think he’s confident about literally every part of himself.

But then it turns out that even the great Victor himself has things he’s self-conscious about - his receding hairline, or more accurately, his age.

Because he may be only 27 but that’s old for figure skaters and he should really be retiring now. His body won’t be flexible for very long now and soon he just won’t be able to keep up the skating class and quality he had had for his entire life. And it very much seems like he doesn’t have much more in his life than skating and once that’s over, he’ll be nothing but an ex-figure skater with a dog and absolutely no plans for the rest of his life.

And his hair is a reminder of that fact. It’s a reminder that once he stops being the best, he’ll have to quit skating because the moment someone beats him on the podium he will become irrelevant because he’s just too old and it’s time for the next generation to shine. And remember that he’s surrounded by people who are younger than him and he’s the oldest (iirc) skater in the senior division. The pressure he’s facing is extreme.

Maybe I’m reading too far into this but keep reading if you think you might feel the same about what the show is trying to say.

Keep reading

Hey!

The year is coming to a close, and I thought I should show a little love to the amazing friends I’ve made and the people who have really inspired me this year so here’s a little appreciation post. Thank you all so much for brightening up my dashboard and just being incredible people! (I’m sorry if I forgot anyone)

(Close friends are bolded. Thanks for sticking with me!)

a-f

@a-filthy-casual @a-pile-of-joltiks @aeducans @aeroura @aldia @allur2024 @arahir @argentuums @artseed-wonderworld @ataashii @belgania @bethesdas @bloodborne-ruler @bloodofelves @bookerduhwitt @buttcanine @candlemaiden @cartaloupes @childishzombiejellyfish @chilllrend @cleriicbeast @combatty @cowboybebutt @crycestar @danynaerys @delsinsfire @djurito @dovahcaine @dullaprutten @dunwall @eileen-the-crow @elbereths @elizabethcomstalker @elved @emberknight @emhyrs @esteljune @frogspawned @frostfall

g-l

@g-e-r-a-l-t @gaysualizing @gravelorded @happylifecrisis @hawkeing
@heyinterstella @highchaosemily @hindarsfjall @ioayneco
@kaldwen @kaldwinn @killaqueens @kovir @lavellaning @loga-boga
@lyriumnug @lyriumrain

m-r

@mccreeing @melgeeart @mellobird @mervley @midhrastic @midnightparadox  @misshufflpuff @miyku @mossknight @ninaqueenbee @nyiro @paiveus @parviocula @piers-niwans @punpun1 @rahgot @rapturezoo @raviollies @re-dye @rhetoricalrogue @roberthouse @rottenplantt

s-z

@sailortoke @sapphireswimming @shinesdifferently
@sometimesicryofjoy @spaceprincessleia @steamedtofu  @steve-the-pencil
@sublimepoint @swordofmoonlight @tarmie @the-north-howls
@theashenphoenix @theblackmegadeus @thefilfymonkey @theillusivewoman @theknifeofdunwall @theladyhawke @vallaslin @veetlejuiced @witchdelilah @yeneferofvengerberg @yennever @yhorm @yocalio

A little watercolour Hermione in the Gryffindor girls’ dorm. I know some people just don’t click, but it must’ve been pretty lonely for Hermowninny.

anonymous asked:

tyler scheid x reader hcs where they have a huge argument and almost break up really sad, i know, but i live for this kind of stuff

Don’t worry Anon, I live for this too. Also this got wayyyy longer than I intended it to…so I’m sorry? Not sorry??

- You guys don’t normally fight or argue
- Not for real anyway, maybe you debate stuff and play fight but it’s all in good fun
- Until this time where it isn’t
- And you don’t remember exactly what started it. Maybe you both were just a little too harsh with the other, maybe he was trying to say something and you weren’t listening, maybe he was being a bit too stubborn. Somehow it snowballed into a huge fight.
- “Maybe we should just break up then!”
- It’s a sentence you never thought you would hear from Tyler. It only made you cry more.
- “Maybe we should.” You’re voice trembles as you rush out the door, keys clutched tightly in your hands.
- You expect him to chase you outside of the apartment. He doesn’t.
- And when you stick the key in the ignition you have no idea where you’re planning on going
- You don’t even have shoes on
- But you start driving
- You think about heading over to Mark’s but decide you don’t want to involve him or Amy in the drama. You think of Ethan or Kathryn but they don’t need the extra drama either.
- So you just drive to a nearby park, just to get away. Tears streaming down your face.
- You hear all the stupid things you said to him, things you want to take back so badly.
- You think about how pathetic you must look to the people at the park. Just a broken down mess, crying in their car, hands clenching the steering wheel.
- You just sit there and cry harder and harder until you’re just heaving.
- And then a slight knock on the window makes you jump. You think it’s going to be a cop or a concerned passerby.
- But you see the mess of curls, you see the sad blue eyes, and you cry even more.
- You open the door and he pulls you out of the car and into his arms, his face is buried in your neck. You feel his tears fall to your skin.
- “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it, I swear baby. Don’t leave me again.” He says over and over again, his breath shaky
- “I didn’t think you were going to come after me.” You say back
- “I shouldn’t have let you drive away.”
- You guys are very much making a scene at this point but you don’t care as you rub his back, and kiss his temple. Resting his forehead against yours he says, “I’m so sorry.”
- “I’m sorry too.” You say, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “Do you think we can fix this?”
- He nods, “I’d like to. I don’t want to lose you.”
- You kiss him on the lips lightly, sweetly. “You’re not going to.”

anonymous asked:

Hello! I love your blog so much, your posts never fail to brighten up my day. I was wondering if you had any pictures of JK that you liked the most? Like your absolute favorites? I know it's hard because he's so pretty haha but I'm just curious! Thanks so much for such a great blog!

anon adjflasgridfjk this is so late im so sorry!! but thank you so much,, it makes me so so so happy to hear that my blog brightens your day. i honestly can’t pick my absolute favourite pictures of him bc i have a lot… and this post will get super long so i’ll just put a few that i really like from bst era!

Keep reading

26th & 28th/29th December Show Reports

Okay, I’m going to have to come clean at the start. This is another recap of two performances. One was with the full original cast (which I’ll talk less about, but I will cover the mistakes in it which were plentiful and glorious), which I will refer to as the Boxing Day show when I mention it, and the other was with James Howard as Draco and Morag Cross as McGonagall. The latter is the one for which I was sitting near the front of the stalls, and that’s the one I’ll focus on, because it was better and more interesting. 

(You’ll all be pleased to know I wrote over 2000 words less in this recap than I did my last one. It’s still almost long enough to be a dissertation though so… Sorry about that! I hope you enjoy.)

Keep reading

NO EULOGY
NO WORDS ABOUT HER INFLUENCE OF CHEVE AND THE REBELLION
NOTHING ABOUT HER AFFECT ON CORRIN OR RYOMA
NOTHING
“RETIRED” MY ASS YOU RIPPED HER FROM MY LOVING ARMS
#SCARLETDESERVEDBETTER2K16

some asshat: anti johnlock people are homophobic
me, a person who knows aromanticism and asexuality exist: why are you in my living room

hitsujisama  asked:

Hi! What would Yamato do if he has a huge crush with s/o but knows that Kakashi also has feelings for them? And if s/o is in love with Yamato? Headcanons or scenarios, at your choice 😆. Yamato needs love, much more love 💖

OK IVE FOUGHT WITH THIS FOR MONTHS AND I’VE LEGIT JUST REACHED A POINT WHERE ITS LIKE “IM DONE: FUCK IT. I’M SORRY IT IS SHIT”

This really isn’t that exciting, because if you keep both boys in character, there just wouldn’t be that much drama tbh. But i’ll try, because I like you ;)  This is another one of those headcanon-scenarios mix things that is  basically an outline bc I can’t decide what i want this to be..

Originally posted by the-trollerdog

  • You just shook you head as you walked down the street, both Kakashi and Yamato on either side of you, slight amusement, but also exhaustion riddled throughout your voice.
  • “Ya know, when I agreed with Tsunade that I’d come out of the ANBU and run this genin team, I seriously didn’t think that it would be this rough- I don’t know how you guys did it. I never thought that three 12 year olds would run me ragged.”  you breathed out wanting nothing more than to be back in the ANBU ranks. Much rather risk your life on S-ranked missions than risk your sanity on D-ranked with a trio of 12 year olds.
  • Yamato just shook his head, “I didn’t run a genin team. I got them when they were already chunin. They were already straightened out by then” he corrected you slightly, knowing that the mess he dealt with was nothing to what you were dealing with. “I don’t think I would want to deal with them when they were 12….”
  • “Right, Kakashi was the one who had to deal with them when they were finicky as hell,” you laughed and looked over to your right.
  • “They’re still finicky as hell at 19,” Kakashi offered back.
  • “Wait- Y/N, what happened? What did they do this time? I knew Tsunade gave you a strong team; she wouldn’t have pulled you out of the ANBU for nothing, but what did they do?” Yamato questioned as the three of you made it over to the small tea shop on Konoha’s main drag.
  • You sighed and pointed a finger at him as you slid into the booth. “If I tell you, you have to buy me tea and promise not to laugh at me and my teaching skills, deal?” you chuckled out with a small smiled as you looked across to table.
  • Yamato just smiled, he would have brought you tea any day honestly. “Sure, Y/N.”
  • Resting your head in the palm of your hand, you looked away from both of them and up at the ceiling. “Okay, so you know how the girl on my team is absolutely amazing with swords; I love her. She’s amazing, because she’s such a cutiepie, but could cut you to pieces in a second; I think she is the only reason that Tsunade placed me on that team, honestly.”
  • “A mini you basically?” Kakashi asked.
  • You nodded, “Minus that initial fear I had of hurting people; she doesn’t care, she has three older brothers. Fiesty little princess who doesn’t need a savior, I love it.” you smiled.
  • “Right, I forgot that there was once a time where you didn’t like hurting people.” Yamato remarked.
  • You shrugged. “Consequences of the Third War nearly killing me and my brother. It happens; everything turned out fine.” you offered up.
  • “You should have seen her when she was still in the Academy, I didn’t think she was going to make it.” Kakashi said with a look over to Yamato.
  • “And then you saw what I could do with only a switchblade…” you smirked.
  • “And also the fact that your parents trusted you enough to carry around a switchblade at five years old…” he looked over to you with a raised eyebrow.
  • “Wait, what?!” Yamato questioned.
  • Both you and Kakashi laughed
  • With a smile over to Yamato you continued, “Me during my Academy days was just so ironically bad that it was hilarious.”
  • “Unfortunate that I didn’t meet you until a few years ago.” he copied your smile.
  • You nodded, “It sure is.”
  • “So your students…” Kakashi cut in as the hostess sat down a pot of tea on the table. “What could they have done that would make you think ANBU was easier.”
  • You just rolled your eyes as you remembered it, “Okay so both of the boys on the team have crushes on the girl, because you all know how that glorious ‘I’m 12 so I need to be in a committed relationship,’ phase goes. Anyway, we were on a break from training and they were both trying impress her and I leave for like less than a minute and I come back and one of them has a goddamn katana down his throat, because apparently his grandfather was a sword swallower and with his twelver year old logic, he thought he could do it easily and that it would impress his teammate…” you explained, your voice saturated with a mix of emotions.
  • Kakashi just raised an eyebrow at it.
  • Yamato looked as if you had just told him that unicorns actually existed.
  • “Wait, so what did you do….?” Yamato questioned,
  • “Not what a trained shinobi is supposed to do, that’s for sure.” you offered up with an anxious laugh. “You gotta realize that I’m standing there about to flip out, because this idiot of child has a katana half down his throat and I’m just terrified that he’s going to slit his inner throat and start to bleed out, and all three of us know that I am no medical ninja, and it was a mess.” you rambled on.
  • “How did you get it out then…?”
  • You shrugged, “What else was I supposed to do? I just pulled the damn thing out after I had my moment of expletives and overcame my initial thought of wanting to beat this kid.” you frowned before shaking your head, “I swear, I don’t know what was going through his head; I just- I don’t know.”
  • “Sorry, Y/N…” Yamato gave you a small frown.
  • “Don’t be; they’re 12; they’re insane.” you shook your head. “I just… I want to make them into decent shinobi, but sometimes I forget that they’re still kids and they are very much still idiots who are just learning to survive this world.” you laughed out. “It’s strange sometimes, because we all grew up in a war where we were just pushed through the Academy and genin stages as fast as possible, so we didn’t necessarily go through these stages as much, and so I don’t know how to deal with the stages now.” you admitted. “I dunno, when do boys learn to actually flirt with a girl and not do stupid stuff like sticking knives down their throats?”
  • Kakashi just shook his head.
  • “Sorry, Y/N. We don’t ever really learn…” Yamato added
  • Letting your head fall into your hands, you whined. “Oh God, they’re going to kill me then…” you  came to the revelation. Then standing up, you looked at the two men still seated. “I’m going to go drown myself in alcohol and rethink my life decisions for a while, feel free to join me later…” you frowned.
  • But before you left, you placed a hand on Yamato’s back and smiled, “Thanks again for paying for my tea; I hope my woes made up for it.”
  • It wasn’t until after you left the small teahouse that the two men began to speak again.
  • “You go to her place later.” Kakashi remarked, slightly looking up to his teammate
  • “Huh- What-” Yamato tried, but it was something that wasn’t meant to be finished.
  • Taking a quick glance out the window to make sure that you were no longer around, Kakashi nodded, “It’s obvious that she has feelings for you. I’ve known her since we were kids, and she doesn’t act like that around everyone.” he offered up, even though what he was saying wasn’t exactly what he, himself wanted to hear.
  • Yamato shook his head again, thinking that there had always been something between you and Kakashi. “I doubt it. That’s just Y/N. As much as I’d like for her to feel that way; I don’t think she does.” he countered, bringing his own feelings into the mix. “And besides, I know if you had the chance, you’d try to be with her, which makes sense; you two already work well as friends-” he continued on,
  • “Don’t-” Kakashi stopped him before he could down pedal himself anymore. “I’ve had feeling for her since we were teens, but me and her are never going to go any farther than just friends. It’s just how things worked out…” he trailed off for a second before finishing his thought out “She doesn’t need someone like me; she’s been around people like me since the beginning. Y/N, she’s used to us; she’s one of us. She needs someone like you, who’s different, but still a part of her world. You’re the one who actually has a chance with her, so you go over to her place, okay?”
  • “Okay…”

i have no excuses for this other than it’s captain america day ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

4

SORRY YES I KNOW QUALITY IS CRAP and I can’t draw people kissing sorry this is such a major fail

I AM GOING TO HELL

Well it’s Diode hell so that’s okay

That’s RIGHT, Serena, you get NOTHING from Ash. He’s quite smitten with a certain blonde inventor, you see. (Sorry I’m not a huge fan of Amourshipping :p)

I’m actually writing a fanfic right now and I’m thinkin’ about putting parts of this scene in~ Clemont’s such a cutie crybaby <3

I AM SO FAR GONE IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY

-sings quietly in the background- Kira kira kira kira hikaru Pika Pika pocket ni chu chu chu

More, anyone?

I’ve got drunk Drarry on my brain, and I don’t quite know what to do with it.

Here’s what I’m thinking: Draco has seen Harry drunk twice in his life. Once, during fifth year, in the midst of the Ministry’s play for Hogwarts. The second time, it’s at The Leaky Cauldron a year after Voldemort’s finally gone forever.

They start coming across each other more and more frequently, usually out, almost always at a pub of some sort or another.

Apparently the Weasley and Blaise are subscribed to the same gastro mag that publishes weekly articles on the best wizarding pubs and clubs (he keeps it to himself, because while the thought of watching Blaise blowing his top off over having any similarities with Weasley is hilarious, he’s saving it for when he really needs it).

They keep running into each other, and despite them being in a house of alcohol–despite watching Potter sling back lager after lager–he has yet to see him drunk outside of those two events. Draco doesn’t get it. Does Potter have some sort of Drunk Me Not spell in his arsenal? Is he impervious to the effects of ethanol? Is his tolerance level so high that he can outdrink even Hagrid?

Once, Draco tries to match his drink with Potter’s all night, and when he stands up to head to the bog, the world sloshes around him and his head is light and spinning, and his legs don’t seem quite as sturdy as he would like them to be. He’s well and truly drunk, but Potter doesn’t even look affected, and that’s unacceptable. Instead of going to the lavatory, his legs take him straight up to Potter, where he very drunkenly and mostly incoherently accuses him of being a cheat, and warns him that he’ll learn his secret if it’s the last thing he does, and promptly vomits all over Potter’s shirt.

Harry sighs, and tells the bar Draco’s done, and that he’s making sure he gets home safe. Ron, already three sheets to the wind, mutters some very explicit things about that not being all Harry wants to do.

Of course, Harry has no idea where Draco’s living these days, and as Draco is of exactly no help in this department (he presses his face against Harry’s neck and passes out like the uncooperative bugger he is), Harry makes an executive decision and ends up taking him home with the intention of forcing a glass of water down his throat and putting him to bed.

He would, if Draco wasn’t some kind of constrictor and refused to let Harry go when he tries to tuck him under the sheets and fuck off to his own room and shower. So. This is the grand lead-up to Draco prying his eyelids apart the next morning, face smooshed against, to his growing horror, Harry’s very naked chest.

It’s not like he can even blame Potter for being the secret cuddler and accosting him, because it’s very, very apparent that Draco is the one to have rolled Harry over to the very precipice of the bed where Potter wouldn’t have been able to escape him except to topple over the side, and somehow, wormed himself into Potter’s embrace.

He doesn’t even get the dignity of trying to extract himself stealthily, because Potter’s blinking blearily down at him, cocking an eyebrow as if to say “your move, mate”.

Except, he doesn’t say that. What does say is, “So, you said want to find out my secret.”

As Draco recalls, yes, he did say that, and groans in embarrassment at himself. Christ, it’s like fifth year all over again. All he can do is try to save face, so he says, “It was all part of the plan, you see. I’ve got you exactly where I want you”, and prays to whatever beings that be that Harry can’t see through the flimsy excuse.

This is, of course, barmy, and Potter’s eyebrow inches higher. Then, he’s craning his neck so his mouth is alongside Draco’s ear, and he says right into the shell of it, “And what if I’ve got you right where I want you?”

And Draco… well. Draco doesn’t quite know what to do about that, but he’s got some idea where to start.

When you see this post an excerpt from a WIP!

Fuck. Okay. I saw this through @unicornsandbutane . Uh. So. Remember that Spiritassassin past life dreaming AU I was talking about? It. Uh. Goes something like this.

(Sorry this is huge. This was going to be a chapter. They didn’t say how long the excerpt had to be and I don’t know when I’ll next get to this because I’m…well…me.)

Context: force sensitive people in one life dream about their past lives. Baze and Chirrut dream about one another. Baze denies this. Heavily. That some new age shit.

He meets Chirrut for the first time after dreaming about him dying in his arms.

Chirrut has retinitis pigmentosa. He can still see but is in the process of becoming fully blind. Baze doesn’t know.

Okay. I- Uhm…

/VAGUE PRESENTING GESTURES
——–
——–

The client can smile as much as he wants as long as he pays is a personal rule.

Baze is starting to question that rule.

He is hours in and halfway through being swallowed by the innards of a sink that probably hasn’t been replaced or altered in more than fifty years, and still can’t make head or tail out of what the client actually wants him to do.


“If,” the man says, still smiling like the sun, “if I wanted to make the house safe for a blind person, how would it be modified?”


Baze grunts something about the stairs and keeping a clear floor. None of which particularly requires an interior contractor. He sees no reason to lie about the difficulty of his work when the man is probably just looking to sell a house.


“If I wished to install disabled ramping what would I do?“


Baze grunts again.

Not enough space for ramping. Install a chair lift like everyone else.


“If I-”


Pipes and wiring,” Baze interrupts, his patience narrowing.


“Come again?”


The tilt of the other man’s head is birdlike, cheerful. The nightmare from the night before has unsettled Baze too much to be easily shaken. He rubs his forehead to clear it, feeling the start of a headache.


“Old house, old wiring,” Baze grunts.


“And…what does that mean?”


Baze sighs through his nose, and pulls his glasses back on. He dislikes doing so. Dislikes the looks of amusement he gets while holding documents at arms-length and studying layouts even more.

He hates old manses. The owners are either stingy or gullible, and rarely know what needs to be done.

If this guy wants a pretty interior job he should have called Jyn first, gutted all the beautiful wood paneling, the antique tiling of the floors and remade with a modern interior, calling him up when they were done. Baze chews on the end of his pen in distaste.


“Means the house came first. Electricity came later.” He thinks of the trio of children he saw giggling together on the trolley, barely six years old, watching a video on their parent’s phone. “And usage has gone up. You want that done first.“


The owner just gazes at him, eyebrows lifted.

He has no idea what he is talking about, obviously.

Baze taps the sink in the kitchen on the print.


“Is this an original?”


“I don’t have the slightest idea,” the other man laughs.


He comes uncomfortably close to see the print, then turns his head to look at Baze. He is grinning at the beaded chain for his glasses. Librarian comments incoming, no doubt.

Baze’s mother would have knocked his knees out from under him with a volume of the Britannica, and she was barely five feet tall, with a limited grasp of English–-a textbook example on why quiet wasn’t the same as peaceful and neither were librarians.

Baze foregoes the commentary by folding the print back under his arm.

Might as well take a look.

Judging by the sink fixtures, the kitchen had a rehaul during the sixties. He wrinkles his nose as he opens the cabinet, pulling out bottles.

He half-expects to find a bag of weed somewhere under the sink. Keeps his nose out for the stink of it.

The client’s perpetual smile makes him seem the type.

He half-expects protests, the defensiveness of a dealer.

The stillness and the slight creeping sensation down his spine makes him crane his head back to find said client instead matter-of-fairly checking out his ass.

Baze snorts.

Well. That’s this city for you.

Nobody has much to look at in steel-toed work boots and tan coveralls. And Baze has even less to look at these days. He’d once been a trim man. Now he’s just a sad forty-year-old nearsighted divorcee checking the nuts of an S-pipe as a favor to a brilliant young architect who’d found him at random by looking up welders in the phone book.

Jyn Erso is twenty-two, driven, and all business. Something more than a client. A grudging friend. He’d done all-night work with her in near-silence together for her grad display. You don’t pull rush jobs like that for just anyone.

They meet once a week for drinks. They aren’t what he’d think of as particularly close friends because Jyn has a guardedness to her that tells you it isn’t a date, and if you try anything she’d crack your nose and leave you in the hospital. Not that Baze would try anything. But there is something particularly depressing about meeting up with an attractive and intelligent young woman who talks shop, having a nice evening, and then going home alone to your own unfinished house.

When Jyn had said her best friend needed to have his house looked at for renovations, Baze had had the sinking feeling that that was it, that he was being couched into approving of some future boyfriend, herded headlong into some sort of fatherly role.

He did not expect Chirrut Îmwe, answering the door before he could knock.


“You’re the inside man?“


Baze had blinked.


“Something like that.”


“Chirrut. Chirrut Îmwe.”


His handshake had been firm, vigorous, his hands as calloused as Baze’s.


“You’re…Blaze Malbus?”


Baze,” Baze corrected with the long patience of a lifetime with an unusual name.


He’d kept clean-shaven and his hair close-cropped for years to try to cut down on the drug dealer jokes. He’d been a child during the Haight-Ashbury days, and still had never taken a hit. Straight A student. Good future.

Then his father had died when he was seventeen, and someone needed to bring in money for the house.

He knows all about how being good at something doesn’t cancel out bad luck, how the unexpected normally goes hand-in-hand with ‘unpleasant’.

In fact, Chirrut is unexpected in a lot of ways.

Trim black turtleneck. Woven bag. Loose pants and sandals. A red wrap around his waist that’s got an interesting and subtle woven texture to it. Clean-shaven. Close-haired. Chinese, like him, which had been another surprise. And definitely older than fresh-faced Jyn, though he has the peculiar agelessness to him that comes with a heavy fitness lifestyle. Probably another fucking righteous vegan, Baze thinks.

He thinks again of his dream, the details all blurred together, just a lingering sense of unease, of loss. Something that makes him want to wipe his fingernails on his coverall and expect to be talked down to by another idiot who doesn’t know which way a screw turns but makes more money than him and believes that’s because he’s lazy. Unintelligent.

The bad dream seems to be leaking into his sense of the man. He’s seen plenty of people like Chirrut. Has been checked out by far more intimidating-looking ones.

Baze wonders with a snort if he’s being set up, if Jyn has made some assumptions. Unlikely. Jyn usually keeps her head down when it comes to the affairs of others.


“I’m not that kind of plumber,” Baze says, too tired to keep any real heat in his voice.


Chirrut gives a bark of laughter that’s completely unselfconscious, a smile that’s much too even not to have been set that way as a child, with plenty of complicated orthodonture. Money, Baze thinks a little bitterly. Something he doesn’t have much of even before the ex-wife remarried, stopped demanding alimony in advance, and filed a totally unnecessary restraining order.


“Aah, well, you never know,” Chirrut breezes.


He is so blithe even Baze has to snort.


“Try turning the water on,” Baze mutters.


Chirrut steps over to the sink and Baze listens to the pipes, squints with his little penlight tucked behind his ear, the red beads of the chain clinking on pipe.


“Pour a glass for me. I want to check the clarity. Something transparent.”


Chirrut shuffles slightly above him.


“Don’t worry. There’s beer in the refrigerator if you get thirsty.”


“Beer,” Baze repeats.


Chirrut gives a noncommittal noise.

The only thing that’s thirsty here is you, Baze thinks a little uncharitably, making his way gingerly out from under the sink and unbending slowly, and with a wince.


“You don’t seem the type.”


Chirrut’s face shifts into comic dismay.


“My feelings are grievously injured and I rescind the offer of my specialty homebrew. You can drink out of the sink.”


Baze laughs, despite himself.


“That your business?”


“A hobby.”


Something odd has passed into the man’s face, the smile sagging at the corners.

Baze doesn’t ask.

Somehow it doesn’t surprise him that Jyn befriended a microbrewer.


“It was once women’s work, you know, the making of beer,” Chirrut calls.


His voice is a little too loud and bright in the low space.

Baze considers this tidbit, and how he’s probably supposed to react to it. What might be hinted and what might not be.


“Don’t tell that to Jyn,” he decides on.


Chirrut rips out another laugh, this one with a wicked edge.

He has a great laugh, Baze thinks absently. He must have caused plenty of trouble in his time.
This too doesn’t surprise him in terms of Jyn’s choice of friends.

Against his better instincts he finds himself oddly okay with being watched by this hovering fellow. Always asking questions about what he’s doing, why he’s doing it. It should be annoying. Somehow it isn’t, comforting to talk about tangible things with that lingering dream hanging over top of him. The sense of incoming, inevitable failure and loss.

Baze often dreams of failure.


“How did you meet?“ Chirrut asks out of the blue, after hip-checking a table by accident.


Clumsy, Baze notes. Like anything that isn’t directly in front of him isn’t there.


"Hm?”


“You and Jyn.”


Baze is surprised at the heavy, intent look on the other man’s face. Blinks as he realizes.

Oh.


“Phone book.” Baze grunts, “Under ‘Welders’.”


Nothing weird, he wants to add. Doesn’t, since he’s sure somehow that would make it worse.

…Is he actually going to be given the shovel talk by a Five-foot-Eight beatnik?

Baze doesn’t know whether to be flattered or concerned. Jyn is a very pretty girl, with a good head on her shoulders. Nice tits, too, if he’s completely honest. She could do a lot better than him for sure. He hopes, in a blaze of worry, that she knows it. Good God does he hope it.

He blinks.

The rising, tight tilt of the other man’s chin is very much like Jyn’s.


“You?” Baze asks, trying to keep the uneasy frown off his face.


“Destiny,” the other says.


Baze laughs before considering whether he’s supposed to. A dry noise.


Really.”


The corners of Chirrut’s mouth go mercifully up. He leans back against the counter.


“I wandered into the grad installations by accident and she almost murdered me with a power sander.”


He makes it sound like the most casual and reasonable thing in the world. Baze swallows down another laugh.


“Get out.”


“That’s what she said,” Chirrut deadpans back, dislodging Baze’s laugh from his throat despite himself. Despite how utterly cheesy it is. Chirrut, he notices, turns his whole face like a cat when he peers at him. A flicker of surprise.


“…Have we met before?” Chirrut asks faintly, something uncertain in his features.


Baze snorts, shaking his head.


“Definitely not.“


Chirrut frowns but goes on with a shrug.


"Anyway, my Tai Chi was completely ruined, I offered her free self-defense lessons to compensate her for the fright, and we’ve gotten along famously ever since.”


Baze makes a listening noise.

The thought of anyone weaponizing Jyn Erso’s anger is completely terrifying. He’s half-convinced Jyn’s lambent rage is its own renewable energy source.


“You give her your beers?”


Chirrut gives him a look of practiced disdain his mother would have been impressed by.


“Forget I asked.” Baze mutters, shrugging.


“Have you met Galen Erso?”


Chirrut’s dark eyes are narrow, intent. Without the easy smile his whole face is narrow and long, proud-looking somehow. Something in the combination of lips and chin and brow.

Baze searches his memory for the name. Finds nothing with a slow shake of his head.


“Who?”


“The father,” Chirrut’s chin tilts up again, a slow fury in his dark eyes.


Baze frowns, guessing.


“…Alcoholic?”


“Mm,” Chirrut agrees, his chin set and stubborn like a little fist, “The quiet kind.”


Baze considers this more carefully, a slow frown settling. Next Thursday he’ll relocate them to a cafe, he thinks. Cut down on the girl’s intake. Someone has to take care of her.


“You try talking to her?”


Chirrut gives a sharp laugh again.


“Have you tried stopping Jyn from doing something before?”


Baze thinks. Chirrut’s already grinning, shaking his head, utterly fond.


“When Jyn Erso rebels, the whole world follows,” the man says.


Baze frowns. He’s starting to realize why a thirty-something-looking bohemian fitness freak of a man in a Bill Gates turtleneck is Jyn’s best friend.


“I have Thursdays,” Baze says stubbornly.


“Are you serious?” Chirrut laughs.


“Your day must be either Tuesday or Wednesday–”


“It’s Friday, actually,” Chirrut cuts him off, the laughter still in his eyes. He looks utterly unintimidated. Amused, even, arms folded across his stomach.


“Then if she matters to you–”


Good God, you’re like an old woman,” Chirrut interrupts, laughing.


Baze’s fingers tighten. He’s a big man, and he knows it.

Chirrut is not, and still meets his look without an ounce of fear, a blasé arrogance. Baze notes suddenly the outline of his shoulders. The trimness of his waist, remembers he’d said self defense classes.


“Jyn’s an adult. She does her work and does it well. Life doesn’t end because of a bit of Black Porter on a Friday Night,” Chirrut says, shaking his head slightly.


Baze’s disapproval sits heavy in his belly, welling up in frustration. A great weight of words he can’t say to a stranger, a friend of a friend.


“I can see why you and Jyn are friends,” he settles for, leadening it with the full force of his disapproval.


Chirrut shrugs, a manic glitter in his eye.


“I like a straightman with me when I cause my trouble,” he pauses, inclines his head with a smile, “Or woman.”


Baze lets out a breath in disgust.

He bets it’s the same bar on Friday. He has half a mind to make the time to fish them both out. A growing protectiveness.


“Don’t drag Jyn down with you in whatever trouble you get into.”


Chirrut makes a rude noise, his dark brows knitting irritably,
Yes, mother hen. Will that be all?”


It comes so sharply, so abruptly Baze just stands there for a moment, realizing how far he’s overstepped.

He almost wants to apologize. Feels the sting instead of the comparison. Dismissal.

Baze bits down his words.


“…I’ll send you an estimate.”


“Well, good. You stay right there and estimate,” Chirrut drawls, bumping the same table, catching the same vase, “while I get you a crate.”


Baze blinks.


“A…what?”


“You need a drink!” Chirrut hollers down the hall, “You need about five drinks!”


“I don’t need anything!” Baze yells back.


He winces at the sound of his own voice.

Chirrut Îmwe has apparently gone selectively deaf.


“I don’t accept drinks from strange men,” Baze mutters, a little hot around the ears when he realizes the other man is indeed bringing up a loose crate filled with dark bottles.


“Then it’s a good thing I’m a painfully ordinary man cursed with spectacular beauty,” Chirrut replies back, making a face, “and not at all strange.”


Baze doesn’t laugh. Can’t. Caught by a strange sense of panic.

Chirrut taps a finger against the little barrel, something challenging in his dark eyes.


“Stardust Ale. Last year’s vintage. It’ll give you something to talk about with my friend.”


“I…can’t accept this,” Baze says quietly.


Chirrut is waving him off with a noise of irritation, shoving the thing into his hands.


“Go on. Get lost. Make your estimates. Come back when this,” he taps the crate, “is gone. Get drunk with some friends. This is my number,” he’s scrawling something large and loose on the side of the wood.

Baze gives him one last, exasperated look as he does so, as he’s manhandled to the door by prodding and pushing hands.

“And wear something different next time,” Chirrut adds, calling after him down the steps to the tilted street, “You look like a Ghostbuster!“

anonymous asked:

if i meet frank and ask him to sign something would it be alright to bring him something mcr related or would it be better to just bring a photo or something? (i dont have any of his solo merch ;-;) sorry if this has been asked before haha

he doesn’t mind! i had him sign tbp the first time i met him. theres a video of someone having him sign mcr merch and they say ‘sorry its mcr’ and he says ‘i dont mind, i was in that band :)’ (cue my tears tbh)

but yea mcr was a huge part of his career and he knows how important it was and still is to people, don’t be afraid to have him sign something mcr related :)

Lucky Part 3

Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Part One,  Part Two

Alright Part 3 is here!! I just wanted to say, I don’t know if it shows in here, but they way I've been writing this, the time line is all off. In my head its based around season 4, maybe 5, but i know that Jared and Gen weren't married yet, or had the boys. I was doing it mostly cuz they’re younger, and for other reasons that you might come across. So if you notice, I’m sorry, please don’t hold it against me too much. Sorry for rambling! Love Y’all!

You put down your sketch book as their was a knock on your trailer door and went to answer it. Jensen was standing there with his hands behind his back, and huge smile on his face. You smiled but looked at him confused.

“Happy Anniversary.” He pulled a basket of beautifully assorted fruit from behind his back, making your eyes widened. “You have officially been here for six months. That’s longer than most people they bring on here.” Your smile widened and you took the fruit from him, letting him in. He shut the door behind him.

“I know you hate flowers because you can’t keep them alive long enough to enjoy them, so, I thought this was the next best thing.” You chuckled.

“This is perfect. It’s beautiful…….and it looks delicious.” You looked back to him.

“Yeah it does. You don’t know how much will power it took, not to dig into that thing on the ride back here.” You laughed.

“You know they deliver right?”

“Yeah. But by the time I thought of this idea, it was too late. I mean, it would have gotten here, just, not on time. So I decided to just go and pick it up.” Your smile grew bigger and you blushed a little. You don’t normally blush, but Jensen always seemed to get you to. You both stood there for a minute, looking at each other, then Jensen gulped and broke the silence.

“So. Are we going to break into it, or are we going to get lunch somewhere, because I’m starving.” You chuckled and ripped off the clear wrapping. You both sat on your couch and dug into the mouth watering fruit. There was about twenty minutes of eating and chatting before you were both called back to the set.


The day finished up at about nine that night. The three of you were pretty hungry, so you decided on ordering a pizza. You were hanging out in your trailer while you waited for your food and Jared Skyped with Gen and the boys. It was a little late for them but they really wanted to say goodnight to dad. You and Jensen squeezed in there for a minute too.

The pizza finally showed up and you all sat, ate and talked about your day, laughing and having a good time. After about an hour, Jared stood up.

“Alright you two. I’m hitting the pillows.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow, man.” Jensen patted his leg.

“Yep, tomorrow.” Jared stretched, and you stood up to give him a hug.

“Night.” you kissed him on the cheek.

“Night.” he rubbed your back and leaned down kissing the top of your head. Then he pulled away and turned to the door.

“Love you!” you yelled at him before he shut the door.

“Love you too!” The door shut, and you smiled. It was silent for a moment and then Jensen broke it.

“You got any fruit left?” You laughed and stood up.

“Yeah.” You went over and pulled it out of the fridge. “You want a beer?”

“Ooo, yes. Please.” You grabbed two beers and went back to the couch.

“Here ya go.” you handed him his beer.

“Thank you.” he opened it and took a drink. “So. Is it all you imagined it would be?”

“What? Working with you two? Oh yeah.” He let out a full body laugh. You couldn’t help but laugh too. “No. It’s everything i imagined plus some. I don’t think you can ever prepare yourself, fully, for something like this.” He nodded.

“Well, you’re doing great. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your friend. I’m legitimately being honest with you. You’re a natural.” You grew a huge grin.

“Well thank you.” You sat there looking into each others eyes. This has been happening a lot lately.

“You know, I guess I have Jared to thank for that.” you took a drink.

“Oh really? Why?” he didn’t understand why you would give credit to Jared when the both of you have been acting for about the same amount of time.

“Yeah. All I had to do was learn from his mistakes.” He laughed so hard. Thankfully he didn’t take a drink before hand, because it would have been all over your table. You both talked for about another half hour after he got his breathing back to normal. Then he too gave into the night.

“Alright. I don’t want to, but I should call it a night too.” he got off the couch and grabbed the pizza and the fruit.

“No, Jensen, I can put that away, don’t worry about it.” you stood up and reached over in an attempt to take everything from him, He pulled away from you.

“Nope, you need to rest too. I’m not going to make you clean all this up. What kind of house guest do you think I am?”

“Exactly that..a guest. It won’t take me that long to clean this up.”

“Exactly. It won’t take me that long to clean it up, so that’s why I’m doing it.” he winked at you and went to the fridge. You sighed, then grabbed the beer bottles and threw them away.

“See…” he spread his arms and spun in a circle once, then met your gaze again. “Now you can go to bed once I leave.” You smiled and lightly chuckled.

“Well, thank you.”

“No problem.” You both walked to the door. “Oh. Before I forget…..” he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out some cash. “Here.”

“What’s this?” you took it from him and looked him in the eyes.

“It’s yours………I bought the pizza.” he gestured his hand to the fridge.

“Jensen! I told you I’d get it.” your eyes widened a little and you lightly smacked his arm. He chuckled as he turned away trying to avoid it.

“I know.” he nodded. “But, today was a special day for you, so I decided I’d get it.”

“It’s only been six months, J, it’s not that special.” He pointed a finger at you.

“Wrong. I told you, people don’t usually last this long on this show. You should know. This is definitely a special day for you.” You smiled and shook your head.

“Okay. Well…….thank you…….again.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Yep….bright and early.” he gave you a wink and you both went in for a hug, it was held for a minute. You both pulled away, just enough to come face to face and starred in each others eyes, for what seemed like hours. Jensen gulped and it made you snap out of it. You pulled away and that’s what made him snap out of it. He flashed you a half grin. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Night Jensen.” He opened the door, then turned to you one last time and smiled before shutting the door and heading to his trailer. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“What the hell was that?” you mumbled to yourself. You shook your head, then turned off your lights and headed to bed.

Jensen climbed into his bed and laid there starring at the ceiling.

“What the hell just happened?” 

He was thinking hes known you for years. Hes hung out with you in so many different scenarios, and hes never felt that away around you. He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. He didn’t know what it was, but he was going to blame it on the beers and being caught up in the moment.

Part 4

anonymous asked:

im 15 dating an 18 year old and its p chill

i don’t approve that i am sorry

i firmly believe that there is a huge difference between the age of 15 and 18 i know it doesn’t seem as much, but i know i am much more mature and i know about life a lot more when i was 18 rather than i was 15 i am sorry

Now you see me. Part 2

AN: A lot of you asked for part two i hope you like it.

Word count: 1583

Requested: a stiles imagine where you are lydias twin sister but there are a few differences (your hair is shorter, you have blue eyes, you wear glasses) and you’re best friends with scott and stiles but have a huge crush on stiles and get really annoyed whenever he talks about Lydia & scott notices so he talks to stiles and it gets really fluffy at the end WITH  A LITTLE TWIST

SORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO GET THIS OUT, IM SORRY BUT HERE IT IS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

Part 1

Theo took you deep into the woods, passing the Hale house, further than the look out. You started to feel your body burning up, you could feel someone following you, you whispered to Theo, “T-theo, there’s someon-” “I know its ok Y/n I have you nothing is going to happen” he said kissing your forehead.

Theo ran faster and faster to keep them off your trail, he reached the spot, he stopped and put you down “Theo, grab the rocks” Theo already knew what you meant you guys came out here to try and see if you can actually do things, you could see the sky darken above you. You were laying on the ground; feeling the earth around you. How the soil feels between your fingers, the rush of the wind, the sound of the trees.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

you should give bts a chance tho, they are indeed v talented and they produce and write their own songs so it's a huge plus (high standards for me bc bigbang and gd also do it). the fandom is kinda wild lmao but the boys are sweet and funny, maybe check out let me know, house of cards, cypher(s), butterfly and not today, those songs are hella catchy and beautiful. sorry and have a nice day!

nothing to be sorry for! i should probably give them a chance lol but for some reason bigbang are the only boy group that catch my attention musically tbh? idk i think I’m also just lazy and its much easier just to listen to MADE on repeat lmao