i need to straighten it

6

So… I just had a modern DA dream where Cullen left the Inquisition for a little bit because his aunt had just died, and left him all this money, and he needed to straighten out her affairs. And then I called, and told him I missed him, and he was all: “Okay, I’m buying a mini-cooper right now to go see you.” And Varric was all smug as shit and all: “A man buys a car like that, you know he’s in love.”

anonymous asked:

Oh my gosh that Andrew Nathaniel au was amazing!!! Would you ever consider doing a part two? I'm in love with the idea!

you guys are fucking masochists, honestly

p.s. tagging this as andreil because there’s not much of nathaniel here! enjoy~

(part one - andrew/nathaniel)


For Neil, it always felt like getting jolted out of a deep sleep. It was what he physically did anyway, whenever the shift happened. Not remembering a certain hour or day or week that people talk about with him was one of the things that bothered him the most about it. New entries in his journal, unrecognizable and foreign, were indicators of everything that had changed. One of his psychiatrists had recommended the method for him to be able to record events and then read about them afterwards.

Both Nathaniel’s and his thoughts occupied the same journal. His slanted handwriting next to Nathaniel’s blocky penmanship outlined the differences between the two personalities. Even the writing styles were far from one another. Neil can’t help but feel like wanting to meet the other person in his head.

Somehow, reading the journal always made Neil sad. It made him feel forgetful and mentally useless. Still, he knew this wasn’t really the case. He knew he was himself sometimes, and then other times… well, he was someone else.

Or that’s what the so-called “experts” here said. Neil chose to believe them because that was what kept the peace.

That same peace can only be kept for so long though. Slamming his journal closed, he glared hard at the nurse in front of him.

“Andrew was here?” He tried to keep his voice level, steady. There was no point in getting mad now. The nurse in front of him was only trying to give him his lunch. Emphasis on trying.

“Yes, Mr. Josten,” The nurse tried to calm him down, sensing his frayed nerves.

Neil hoped he looked as livid as he felt and not pathetic. “When?”

The nurse shifted her feet and looked down to stall for time. There was no doubt in her that Neil didn’t ever stop being intimidating, which is why she used to tell the other nurses that she liked her job more when he was Nathaniel instead. Neil was fiery, unpredictable. Someone who could possibly explode at the most feathery of touches.

Avoiding his eyes, she replied, “That was about a month and a half ago.”

Keep reading

Breathless

I’m back with John! Finally!

I don’t know what happened, but he is standing in front of a tenement, ringing the doorbell and knocking down the door. Sherlock is inside, calling out about the things he is seeing, but with the buzzing of the street around him, John can barely hear a word he is saying. He has even crouched down to put his ear against the letter slot, for god’s sake.

Originally posted by hobbitbilbo

J: What was that? Sherlock?

There is no reply and John lets out a frustrated grunt. He presses his eyes and mouth shut in irritation, voice rising with every words as he tries again.

J: Would you just get your arse over here and let me in, please?

S: Hang on a minute! I need to concentrate.

With a bitter snigger John straightens up and starts pacing. He is shaking his head, as if to say: See what I have to deal with here? Can you believe the bloody nerve on this guy?

Originally posted by holmeswatsoned

Instead, he gives the bottom of the door one good kick and starts shouting in a mocking voice.

J: I’m Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no-one else can compete with my massive intellect!

Now that the words are out he takes a deep breath to calm himself and lets it out slowly before bending back down once more.

J: Can we not do this again? You had your fun, now open the bloody door!

S: Alright, alright. Fine. Calm down!

There is the sound of footsteps and a crash. Then, silence. When a few seconds tick by and the door is still closed, John’s face scrunches up in confusion.

Originally posted by hobbitbilbo

J: Sherlock?

No answer. I can hear movement, though. And… wheezing? What’s going on in there?

J: Sherlock, you okay?

John is starting to sound worried now. Is there someone else in there? Was that a grunt? John peeks through the letter slot in hopes of catching a glimpse inside, but all he gets is a view of the carpet. Then there is a faint wheezing sound and Sherlock’s distorted voice sound out.

S: Jo…John!

Eyes wide in realisation, John jolts up. Without another thought, he takes three quick steps back and throws his body against the door. Even though there is a crunching sound, it doesn’t budge. The impact must have hurt like hell, but he is already moving back again, a bit further this time. He runs full throttle at the door and smashes against it. It burst open with a crash, wood crunching as the lock gives way and rips out of the frame.

John stumbles inside, eyes quickly searching the room until they land on Sherlock, who is lying on the ground. There is a man kneeling over him, hands tight around his neck, choking the life out of him. Sherlock’s eyes are bulging out of their sockets from the pressure. His lips form John’s name and he is reaching towards him.

John doesn’t even stop. In a blink he is across the room and wraps one arm around the attackers throat. He hauls him up and backwards, away from Sherlock, who is gasping for air.

The stranger jumps back with surprising strength, causing John to crash into the wall behind them. His grip loosens and the man twists free and bolts for the window. John starts to scramble after him, but hesitates when there is a pathetic wheezing coming from behind him. That’s all it takes for the stranger to catapult himself over the windowsill and vanish from sight.

John stares after him for a second, features creased in a hard frown. He shakes it off and turns towards Sherlock, who is still lying on the floor and sucking in as much air as his lungs will allow. The tightness drains from John’s posture and he quickly crouches down, hand stretching out to help him sit up.

J: Jesus, Sherlock. You alright?

The worry is evident in his tone and Sherlock nods his head to reassure him. His first attempt to speak ends in a coughing fit, so he has to settle for another curt nod and a pat on John’s shoulder.

J: Here, let me have a look.

Cautiously, as if not to startle him, John reaches out and begins to untangle the blue scarf from around his neck. Sherlock is quiet apart from a small hawk every now and then, while John leans in closer to inspect the damage.

There are red finger imprints all over his throat. They stand out stark against the white skin and John lets out a sympathetic hiss. He tries to be careful when he prods the aggravated area, but Sherlock winces in pain nonetheless. A second later John draws back with a relieved sigh.

J: He bruised you up good. Don’t think there are any internal injuries, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow.

S: Lucky me.

Sherlock croaks out and wraps a protective hand around his throat. He catches sight of John’s tight expression and has to avert his eyes. When he dares to look up again, there is a self-deprecating grin twisting up his mouth.

S: Should have opened the door sooner.

J: Yes, you should have.

With that, John hands over Sherlock’s scarf and pushes himself up to a stand. Then he tips his head to the side and arches a teasing eyebrow at the pile of misery on the ground in front of him.

J: Still think breathing is boring?

Sherlock can’t help the snort, that bursts out of him. He regrets it immediately, because it brings on another round of coughing. John winces on his behalf and offers one of his hands for him to take. He pulls him up with him, but doesn’t let go right away. Instead, he holds onto his hand for a second and gives it a reassuring squeeze, before finally letting go and heading towards the battered door.

Sherlock lingers a beat longer. He looks down at his scarf and presses his lips together in a tight line. Then he blinks and shakes his head, as if to clear it, delicately wraps the scarf around his neck and follows John out the door.

Line art butterfly bog drawing WIP

2

Gif is mine

Imagine Worf teaches reader how to speak Klingon language? 

Requested by Anon~


“We will not have universal translators on this mission.” Worf stated. “You will need to know basic Klingon phrases.”

Worf seemed serious about this. As if learning Klingon was easy. You gave a small sigh. “Why can’t you just speak for the both of us?”

“They will want to speak directly to you.” Worf replied, straightening his spine. “I will intervene, if needed. But it is you who must introduce us and tell the others why we are there.”

#stopshaming4chair

the next fucking time i hear someone tell me that i need to straighten my tight curls or why my hair isn’t in loose curls or waves i will slap someone

black girls do NOT have all the same fucking hair types - i cannot get my hair (without a LOT of extra effort) to be like some mixed race girls’ natural curls ok

i’m outgrowing my TWA and i’m really sick of people telling me why my hair is not the best ok

Getting ready with Michael in a shared bathroom probably goes a lot like-

- making weird faces at each other in the mirror while brushing your teeth
- him shoving you to the side to spit first
- breath checking each other when you’re done then sharing a minty kiss
- not enough elbow room for both of you to do your hair
- “babe are you almost done with the hair straightener I need it too”
- hip bumping each other for space or just out of boredom
- “baby you don’t even need makeup”
- him “accidentally” bumping into you every time you try to put on eyeliner or lipstick so you’d have to wipe it off
- “are you done yet. Can we go”
- staring at each other finishing up
- looking at the mirror and he winks at you before saying “we look hot”

6

Here’s a bunch of puppy pictures.

I spent a lot of time cuddling this puppy, drinking beer, and hanging out with Trish this weekend. I also got a new TV stand from IKEA, which needs to be assembled and wires need to be hidden from Phin. It’s been nice spending time with this dog, but I really miss my apartment and my cat.

I allowed myself a weekend of free drinking and being lazy, but starting tomorrow I need to straighten my shit out again. I haven’t weighed myself in a few days and it’s bound to not be pretty.

I also downloaded OkCupid again, and my heart just isn’t in it. I don’t want to jump back into dating again, but I also hate being alone so much. But it is fine, I am fine.

Soulmate AU prompts

You soulmate’s first words to you are tattooed on your body, send me a sentence from below for our muses to meet. 

“Don’t I know you?”

“I can’t remember what I was going to say so hi!”

“Somebody looks angry”

“Why are you outside in this weather?”

“Don’t turn left. That’s gang territory”

“That was obviously not an accident!”

“Yo nice [shirt/hat/umbrella/etc etc]!”

“Ew! That is not coffee!”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Mind if I sit here?”

“Walk with me, someone’s following me”

“Somebody needs to straighten these paving stones”

“Did you just see that?”

“I fucking hate the outdoors!”

“Your name starts with a G, right?”

“Hi, I think they mixed up our orders, is this yours?”