i uncare

2

Little Yandere and Wilford Warfstache

“Will you help me get my senpai?”
“Of course I will.”

(They’re quite…uncaring about how their actions affect others, so I’m pretty sure these two would be alike in that aspect. So here’s a little comic just to…I don’t know, maybe show if ever Yandere was influenced/helped by Wilford in their younger days. Hope y'all like it!)

For all those saying Magnus = Vilde

and saying they are equally ignorant, please remember that everytime the boys tell him (with diverse reactions of “duuude” and groaning sounds) that he spoke wrong he orientates himself on their reactions and tries to do better next time.
It may not all be gold what he says but he wants to learn from those situations.


“Was that so bad to ask?” is meant as a genuine question after which he immediatly looks at Isak afraid that he might’ve hurt his feelings.

And i love pincess Vilde but that is something she never does or any other of the girls. Magnus never dismisses it when someone tells him he did wrong.

So please stop this idea that Magnus is dumb or ignorant bc he is neither.

4

I can lead with pride, I can make us strong
I’ll be satisfied if I play along
But the voice inside sings a different song
What is wrong with me?

anonymous asked:

Hi! So I just watched "Kitten Time in Kitten Town," and I see there's a cat that bears resemblance to Viktor. The fluffy fur, one eye, and seeing that he looks rather big (but with only kittens to compare thats a bit of a stretch.) So who is this mystery cat?

That’s Luca.  That he’s a big, one-eyed fluff like Viktor is kind of just a weird coincidence.  When  I started work on Lackadaisy, he belonged to one of my neighbors and was still binocular.  They left him to his own devices outside most of the time, but he’s an unusually friendly cat and everyone in the neighborhood knew him because he was always porch-hopping for treats and pets.  In 2010, he went off-grid for a time and then reappeared in my backyard, caked in blood and suffering some pretty gruesome head trauma.  I opened my door to him and gaped as he stumbled inside, made his way to a toilet, climbed in and tried to drink the water with his dislocated jaw hanging uselessly.  He also had a swollen face-ful of infection, which told me he’d been walking around with his injuries for at least a couple of days, uncared for.  I rushed him to a vet who told me to euthanize him.  So I took him to a different vet.  They said, “okay - we can work with this.”  That became my go-to vet clinic from that point on, and Luca became my cat.  Several surgeries later, he’s got one functioning eye, a crooked jaw, a couple of teeth, a boxer’s nose, and an 8-cylinder purr.  He’s also a total sweetheart (and a walking allergy attack for unfortunate visitors who immediately become the focus of his drooly lovey-dovings). 

Anyway, along with all of 2016′s other shenanigans, it brought me a feral mom-cat and her six little imps. Solid black, all of them.  They were camping out under a (different) neighbor’s porch.  I ended up hosting them because I had the humane trap and, well, no one else here was going to deal with it.  I had their mom spayed and released (I still feed her), but I couldn’t find a single rescue, no-kill or foster group that had room or who would take on a litter of feral kittens in need of human socializing.  I was stuck in a position of having to either dump them at a high kill rate shelter (which I was just physically incapable of doing) or socialize them all myself and somehow find homes for them afterward.  


Playing with six feral kittens and getting them to like you might sound like a giddily fun and easy thing to do but…it is not. Point of fact, it is hell.  
They had already learned from their mother to perceive people as predators and, unless I was motionlessly holding out some tasty morsel at arm’s length and making no eye-contact whatsoever - prostrate like a browbeaten acolyte with a meager offering of turkey - they would not let me anywhere near them. It was all hissin’ and poppin’ and hiding and literal scrambling up walls and curtains in panicked escape.  I made seemingly no progress with them for the better part of two weeks.  I had just recently lost Calvin, my work was suffering, I was getting no sleep, my house was a warzone strewn in cat litter shrapnel, I knew I was hopelessly in over my head, and I was feeling and functioning like the wreckage of a former human being.  Aaand Luca totally saved the day.

I was keeping the kittens and my own cats separate for probably obvious reasons.  My cats wanted nothing to do with the interlopers anyway…except Luca, who kept insisting I allow him into the fray upstairs.  He was curious, and the kittens had been de-wormed, de-flead and SNAP tested, so I relented and let him up.  The kittens took to him instantaneously, all purrs, chirrs and rubs.  He, in turn, was wholly tolerant of them clamoring over him, chewing on him, and playing with his tail.  Most importantly, as long as he was with me, they were suddenly trusting me to interact with them.  His ambassadorship got me over an enormous hurdle in the socializing process, and happily, most of them have now been adopted out.  The remaining two are still his loyal fans.  So am I, really.  

13x01

Someone has probably already mentioned it, but the Impala was so dirty in this episode. Grimy, dusty, neglected… It perfectly reflected Dean’s inner state of someone who has pretty much shut down emotionally, someone who has given up, someone deeply depressed.

It was a small and subtle thing but it really hit me, seeing Dean’s beloved Baby so run down and uncared for. I wonder if it will be all clean and shiny when Cas comes back??

In the Deep End-Chapter 2

This is an A/B/O AU Collaboration between @kittenofdoomage and @winchesterprincessbride featuring Alpha! Sam and Omega! Reader

Part 1          Add Yourself To Taglist HERE

Sam still remembered the way you smelled that night.

It was warm, unseasonably so for October, but neither of you really cared as you walked through town hand in hand. The movie had been boring, not that you could remember the plot - you’d been too focused on Sam’s lips as they moved across yours, the darkness of the back row providing him with ample opportunity to slide his fingers under your pleated skirt.

Now, he was smiling, almost like he could whistle. He’s your Alpha, and you’d always thank your idiotic friends for a silly dare that had made this happen.

“Hey,” you chirped, pointing to your driveway. “My parents are out.”

“It is Friday,” Sam replied, tugging you into his side, pressing his nose into your hair and scenting you. You giggled, ducking underneath him. “God, you smell so sweet. Like cotton candy at the carnival.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have accepted those beers from Zack,” you teased. “And my mom and Vincent aren’t home.” His eyebrows raised, and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Think with your upstairs brain, Sam, and not your knot. I know I’m coming into heat but…”

He nodded, interrupting you. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just… we spent six months wondering if you would and now you have and -” His nose bumped yours as he leaned down to kiss you. “You’re my Omega. I know it.”

Humming happily, you pushed up onto tiptoes, kissing him softly. “Well, then you’ll be glad to know that my mom and her boytoy have gone out of town. For the weekend.”

Sam drew back, lust burning deep in his colorful eyes. “You’re saying…”

“I wanna be yours, Alpha,” you whispered. “Want to belong to you, to stay with you. We can get away from our families. Start somewhere new…”

“We’re only eighteen,” Sam replied, cupping your cheek. “How would we… I mean -”

You shrugged, uncaring of the consequences. “We’ll manage. As long as we have each other.” God, it was so romantic the way you said it, and Sam found himself falling into the moment, nodding slowly as he leaned in towards you. The kiss was slow and gentle, both of you taking the time to savor the other, before Sam’s hands were tugging you back towards the house.

There was a spring in your step as you locked the front door, dashing through into the kitchen and finding the usual post-it note with thirty dollars for food, and an announcement that your mom and Vincent were off to Atlantic City for the weekend, and not to burn the house down.

Because you were the family member that would end up doing that, of course.

“They’re definitely gone?” Sam asked, coming up behind you and putting his hands on your hips. You nodded, holding up the cash. A wicked smile spread over his face. “We’ll order pizza later. For now -” He stopped, scooping you up to wrap your legs around his waist, and the thirty bucks drifted to the floor as you shrieked and clung to your Alpha. “I want my Omega.”

“Yes, Sam,” you hissed, letting your head fall back as he carried you through the house and up the stairs, not stopping until he kicked your door shut with his booted foot. He let you down then, smiling as you stared up at him with adoration on your face. “I love you,” you said, quietly.

Sam didn’t respond for a moment, looking back at you, before raising a hand and cupping your jaw, stroking his thumb over your bottom lip, dragging it downwards for a split second. “I love you too, Y/N.”

Among a tangle of lips and hands, both of you undressed each other, the need to take it slow outweighed by the urgency you felt to be close to one another. Sam was gentle as he guided you to the bed, laying you down to pull your skirt down and toss it to one side.

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he murmured, placing a kiss just below your navel, and you smiled, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “Want you so bad, ‘mega.”

“I know,” you whispered, tugging on his locks to urge him further up your body, desperate to kiss him again, but he only smirked at you. “Sam…”

He shook his head slightly, dropping his head to bury his nose in the soaked cotton of your panties. “So close to being in heat…” he groaned, nuzzling at you, stroking his tongue over the damp fabric. “Taste so good.” You squeaked as he pulled your panties down, wasting no time in returning his face to the juncture of your thighs, stroking his tongue over your swollen folds. “Thought you tasted good before,” he muttered, looking up at you with wickedly dark eyes. “But this is a whole ‘nother level.”

The plea for him to touch you died on your lips as Sam licked you again, dragging the tip of his tongue from your soaked entrance to your clit, making your body jerk in response. He repeated the action a few more times before he kept his mouth at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Gonna open you up for me, baby,” he purred, running his tongue over your clit as he slid one finger deep inside you. “Want you nice and wet for my cock.”

His words made something curl in your belly, and unbearable arousal swept through you, bringing with it a tightening sensation in your chest. Your scent blossomed through the room, and Sam practically growled, his hips rutting against the bed. “Sam!” Your cry preceded your orgasm, slick gushing over his fingers, and the Alpha groaned loudly.

“That’s it, ‘mega,” he urged, sliding another finger into you, curling them just right to make you scream again. “God, want you so bad.”

“Then have me,” you whimpered, wiggling against him. “Want your knot, Alpha. Make me yours.”

An animalistic sound tore itself from his throat as he drew back from you, pausing to lick his fingers clean of your essence. “Don’t tease me,” he warned, and you smiled, squirming away from him to roll onto your belly, presenting yourself to him, and Sam made a funny noise, pushing his pants down.

His weight made the bed dip, and you dropped your head as you felt him behind you, your entire body clenching in anticipation of having his thick cock inside you. You’d hit every base except this one, wanting to wait until you presented, despite knowing you were his.

Sam was slow to move, running his hands over your ass as he watched your pussy twitch. He rubbed the thick tip of his Alpha cock against you, and you moaned in response, pushing backward onto him, making him smile. “Easy, Omega,” he chastised, and you pouted, despite him not being able to see you.

The first push of his length into you was enough to make your breath catch and your eyes cross. Sam’s entire body shook with the effort of not slamming into you, trying to take it slowly as he watched your cunt suck him in, like you were made for him. The point of discomfort came just as his hips were flush with yours, and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Feel so good,” he grunted, holding himself deep inside you. “Fuck, I feel like I wanna cum already.”

You nodded, unable to form words as he started to move, drawing all the way back before easing back in. His fingers were clinging to your hips, probably leave bruises with how tightly he held you, but you didn’t care - you wanted the reminders tomorrow, and more besides. “Sam… I’m… I can’t…”

“I know,” Sam replied, even though you weren’t sure what you were actually going to say. All you could think was that you couldn’t, but you didn’t know what you couldn’t… which made no sense. “I got you, Omega.”

His mouth was hot on your neck as he leaned over you, using the weight of his body to fuck you harder, and you could feel the twisting, intense churning in your belly, signaling your climax. Your walls clamped down on him, and Sam gave a strangled moan, the thick ring of muscle at the base of his cock catching on your pussy.

“I can’t hold it,” he growled, hips working fast and hard into you. You nodded, arching your back, accepting more of him, feeling the tip of his cock slam into your cervix, and his knot swelled. With one hard thrust, you were screaming out your pleasure, and Sam was locked inside you, pumping load after load of cum into your welcoming heat.

Neither of you spoke for the longest time, both sweating heavily, panting, Sam’s arms clinging to you as he peppered reverent kisses along your back. You couldn’t help the sated smile on your face, nor could you stop the whine of disappointment when he finally pulled free, slumping to your side. It was second nature to drag you into his arms, and you settled there happily, inhaling his scent deeply.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I promise you, we’re gonna figure this out.”

You nodded, unable to keep your eyes from falling shut.

When you opened them, Sam was gone, and the emptiness of his promise split your heart in two.

*****

“She’s twelve?”

The question was almost deafening in the small office and you feel the butterflies in your belly turn into a tornado. You aren’t even sure why you’d said anything and deflection is looking like your best defense.

“Yeah, she is,” you say, standing from the desk. "You said you wanted to see a couple of the victims?”

Dean narrows his eyes, glancing at Sam, clearly putting two and two together where his brother was already on the final solution. “Wait… are you…”

The phone rings, making you jump and you quickly grab it, answering to whoever has just saved you from the awkward situation from hell. “Hello?” A frown covers your face; the woman on the other end is from the junior high and she’s trying to confirm that you’re Emily’s mom. “Yeah, this is her. Is something wrong?”

“Dude, she’s got your eyes,” Dean hisses, holding out one of the photos to Sam. The younger Winchester doesn’t seem like he wants to look - he seems shellshocked and can’t take his eyes off of you. You make brief eye contact as he recognizes the worry on your face, and then you turn your back to him.

“What do you mean, she didn’t show up to fifth period?” you bark into the phone.  “How can you not know where she is? Let me try her cell.”

You reach into your desk and pull out a cell phone, quickly dialing a number.  It goes straight to voicemail, and you throw it on your desk with a muffled curse. “Do you think she skipped school? I’m going to run home and see if she went there then I’ll be over.” Slamming down the phone, you turn back to face Sam and Dean.

“Y/N….” Sam begins, but you hold up a hand to stop him.

“I can’t do this right now, Sam.  I’m sorry.”  Walking over to your door, you stick your head out and call for your assistant.  “Christopher,  these agents are from the FBI.  They need to see the two bodies from those animal attacks.  Give them anything they need. I have to leave for a bit. Call me on my cell if you need me.”

As soon as Christopher leaves Dean turns to you.  “Thanks a lot, Y/N.  This will really help our case.”

“I have no idea why you are pretending to be FBI agents, but I DO watch the news, you know.  I saw when you made the FBI’s most wanted list for your little murder spree, and I saw when you supposedly died.  The only reason I’m not calling the cops right now is that the Sam I knew would never hurt anyone.” You looked him in the eye then, and you saw a lifetime’s worth of pain and sorrow in those beautiful eyes of his.

“Is she……” Sam sucks in a breath, and his eyes close for a split second as he starts to ask the question you’ve been dreading since he walked into your office, “….is she mine, Omega?”  Sam asks you quietly.

You close your eyes at the sound of the familiar name on his lips, but don’t respond. With a flick of your head, you turn your back on the question, marching out of the door and speaking over your shoulder in a cold tone.  “I have to go.  I trust you both will be gone by the time I get back.”

*********

“Come on, man! Focus! We have a job to do here!” Dean barks at his brother through clenched teeth as they enter autopsy room #1.  Christopher has pulled the correct bodies out of the cold chambers for their review. Dean flips through the first file, frowning.

“Jane Lindencamp, 13. Never came home from school on Tuesday.  Reported missing by her mother.  Large, round exit wound on the back of her head.  Body completely drained of spinal fluid.”

Sam turns the victim’s head and sees the large hole. “That’s weird.  What about the second vic?”

Dean flips through the second file. “Timothy Crawford, 12. Mother went to pick him up after band practice.  He never showed.  Same exit wound, the body also drained of spinal fluid.”

“So both of them were last seen at school?” Sam suddenly asks.

“Yeah, so?” Dean questions.

“What school did they go to?”

Dean flips rapidly through the files. “Parkland Middle School. Wait a minute! Didn’t Y/N say on the phone her daughter was missing from school? And isn’t she around the same age?”

Sam stares at his brother for a moment, just long enough for him to put the pieces together in his head before he takes off down the hall at a full sprint.  Dean drops the files and tears off after him. “Sam! Wait!”

Dean catches up to Sam as he reaches the Impala.  Damn Sammy’s long legs! “We need to get to the school now, Dean! Whatever killed those two kids probably has Y/N’s daughter!” Sam snaps as Dean slams the car into drive and peels out of the parking lot.

****

“Emily? Emily, are you here?”  You yelled as you ran through the house.  Flinging open her bedroom door, you saw it was empty.  She hadn’t come home.  Tears of frustration clouded your vision.   You had almost hoped she had skipped school.  It was a much better option than the alternative.  Racing down the stairs, you jumped into your car and headed for the middle school.

Pulling into the visitor’s lot, you parked next to a large black muscle car you were sure you’d seen somewhere before.  The memory tugged at your subconscious, but you couldn’t quite get to it.  Reaching out, you ran your hand over the shiny black hood, and an image of a teenage Sam getting in after school popped into your head.

You entered the reception area of the office, and Sally Perkins, who was on her third divorce and was eternally on the prowl, motioned you over. “I’ll let Principal Montgomery know you’re here, Y/N, but he’s a little tied up at the moment.”  She waved you in closer and said in a hushed voice.  “Two FBI agents are here about the kids that died.  Who knew the government made them so good looking and tall?”

Sam and Dean, it had to be.  They were at your daughter’s school.  Why?

@hexparker @badsongwinchester @potterhead1265 @purgatoan @an-old-vw-bug @nyfistwarrior @unidentified-failing-object @fightmenegan @graceavidan@wonderless-screwup @stories-aesthetics @superkaz-2y5@typicalfanlife @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid@rachelbeus @tacosareverygood@endlesslytimeless @crumbssss@typicalweirdbookworm @surfin-the-sun@f-yeahfandoms @icantthinkofaname-oops @85natalie @sugarprincess3 @peaceloveancolor @mandylove1000@riversong-sam @nekodemon73@tally21112 @shuba-bloop @d4rzill4 @spookypym @sbethell89@ihavesympathyforthedevil   @skybinx-blog @percywinchester27 @a-sea-of-fandoms @dorky-and-i-know-it @pinknerdpanda  @atc74 @jayankles  @notnaturalanahi @midnightjazzmine @moonlitskinwalker @we-are-band-sexuals @winchestergirl-love @gecko9596 @ronnie248-blog @essie1876 @bohowitch @just-another-busy-fangirl @jotink78 @captainradicalpassion @keelzy2 @disneymarina @kittenofdoomage @mrswhozeewhatsis @oriona75 @frankiea1998 @akshi8278 @stylinson531 @valynsia @dr-dean @theoutlinez  @imweirdandobsessed @growningupgeek    @luciisthebest  @laurenisnot @maddieburcham1  @canadianjelly @muliermalefici @brewsthespirit-blog @ilsawasanacrobat @nanie5 @weasleywinchester-blog @samisimportant @fatalcrossbow  @violetsamalamb @letmusicguideu @grantsgorgeousgirl @faegal04 @feelmyroarrrr @kay18115@milkymilky-cocopuff @mikimausiii @the-greatest-temptation @superpanicromancesummer @wh1sp3r1ng-impala  @potterhead1265

anonymous asked:

winteriron neighbours au bucky is 28 or 29 and tony is 24 or 25, where bucky and tony live next to each other and tony is scared of him. bucky is always grumpy, angry, glaring at everyone. tony thinks bucky is a serial killer. one day he just blurts it out and bucky is very offended. that's how they start talking. later when they start dating steve still can't get over the fact that tony had thought that bucky was an assassin. he still laughs at them because of that. happy ending.

Resting Bitch Face/Bucky will always be one of my top pairings lmao. (Man I had plans for this and then I threw in angst lol I’m a failure.) Look out for under the cut!

You can also find this on Ao3 here.


Tony was pretty sure his neighbor was a serial killer.

Like, he’d done the proper thing his mother had said to do, introduce himself to his new neighbors (he had a standing offer to have coffee with Bruce anytime), but when he’d knocked on the door of 4D, a man had answered looking ready to commit murder. There had been bags under his eyes and his eyes were red and his hair was a mess. He’d grunted out a terse ‘the fuck do you want’ and Tony had been able to do nothing but squeak. And then the door had been slammed shut in his face.

Which, you know, might have been a little rude; no one looked good first thing in the morning and Tony had clearly blind-sided him. But the guy hadn’t had to slam the door in his face. He had planned on just nicknaming him ‘Rudy McTrudy’ and moving on with his life.

Except sometimes Rudy McTrudy came home late at night clutching his left hand with a towel that was stained with blood.

Tony nicknamed him ‘Murder Guy’ instead.

Keep reading

headcanon of the day is of niall and harry at a party - any party - after an argument of some kind. something about the nature of their relationship, the uncertainty of the perimeters of it raised by one of them that makes the trip to the party in question strange - makes them both feel out out sync, like their heartbeats are out of tune.

other people happen, alcohol happens, and once they meet again it’s hard to speak. harry corners niall somewhere – finds support in walls and a sticky floor and braces the soles of his shoes for possible resistance. he won’t let niall get away without words of reassurance. can’t keep celebrating one thing or another unless he knows that niall knows. so he says, “I do love you. You know that, right? That I love you.” and niall doesn’t say it back. he probably rolls his eyes, placates with a hum of “yeah. yeah, haz, sure,” and presses lightly with wide palms over that defined chest, those familiar pecs that absorb the hitches of his breath so beautifully when they’re intimate with each other.

and harry is drunk, and harry is in love, and harry has a heart in that chest that tunes into niall better when they’re close like this, and he doesn’t protect it as well near niall as he does within the rest of the world, so he’s hopeful. runs on that hope and the alcohol and the love, and blindly believes that niall truly knows. that he’s fluent enough in harry that he gets the weight of his words, of his confession. so he presses a sloppy kiss to niall’s lips, and makes the prettiest noise when niall sighs out fond exasperation in the gap between them before drawing harry back in for another kiss. a proper one, with tongues covered in alcohol.

and then, when harry’s staggered back out among the people and is dancing with all those long limbs and that pretty face as though the world can’t possibly be better, someone comes up to an entranced niall and asks him how he is these days, if he’s seeing anyone. and niall can’t believe himself. can’t believe that he is in love with that fool over there. can’t believe that there was a time in his life when he wasn’t. and he says, “well.. there’s that,” with a nod over at the hurricane on the floor, and he’s never been happier.

Revelations & Confessions

AN: Hours later and I’m still reeling from that episode. it was so raw and emotional. Truthful. This is my attempt to process that.

(Set somewhere post 5x17)

Oliver sat on the cot in front of her, arms supporting his weight on his knees, head hung low. He knew she was there, he always did. Still, he refused to look up at her, to meet her gaze.

It had been this way for weeks. He’d shut himself off, emotionally, physically, much more that he had ever done before, in the times she’d known him. Then, he would always glance up, make sure that she knew that she mattered to him, in some small way.

Now, he stiller than a statue, frozen in misery.

“Oliver.” Felicity whispered, stepping towards him. Still he refused to move.

Cautiously, she approached him, her heels sounding a knell with each stiletto strike. As though every step was another scar on his skin. She settled on the floor in front of him, kneeling at his feet. This way, she could peer up at him, find his eyes and see what he was thinking.

If she knew what the wound was, she could heal him. It was deep, and unseen, but had broken Oliver to the point that he didn’t spring back by his own power or the encouragement of her or John.

Still, he didn’t move. He gave the illusion that she wasn’t really there, that perhaps she was an illusion of his mind. An echo of his mistakes.

Felicity reached out and grasped his hands, his fingers between her palms. They were cold, dry and brittle, smooth as a stone. Ridges of calluses mapped a pattern of hardship and toil, orators of his heroic acts. The same scars that revealed the instrument of darkness he held tightly to.

The instant her hands made contact with his, he shuddered, pulling away. Quickly, she reclaimed her grip.

“Don’t.” He whispered, voice hoarse from disuse.

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trash-god  asked:

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

STOP TAGGING BACKGROUND SHIPS THAT DON’T AMOUNT TO ANYTHING IN THE PLOT OF YOUR STORY 2K17

95% of the ‘fics tagged mikenana on ao3 are not, in fact, mikenana. they are other ships that slap a brief mention of mikenana in the background and think it counts for shipping. like bro my dude my guys…i get tagging background ships REALLY I DO but maybe stick to tagging your brief mentions only if, you know, you’re actually helping people find or avoid your fics? when it comes to background ships that are only barely mentioned, idk…maybe tag only if it’s a ship people might want to avoid. you know the ones i’m talking about. nobody’s going to read your ‘fic for a passing mention of mikenana lmao

Reasons Why Jack Kelly is Not a “Cocky Little Sonofa”

  • He genuinely loves his newsies family. He loves them. They are his brothers, some of them his children
  • Again, big brother jack, little brother crutchie 
  • Takes in Davey and Les immediately
  • He’s actually crying during Santa Fe (he feels useless, at fault, exhausted)
  • He’s nearly always feeling guilty over SOMETHING that happened to a newsie (crutchie!)
  • He’s Ready To Cry ™ 24/7
  • He fears Katherine is just toying with his emotions and forces himself to ask if she is because he has been played with before
  • Refuses to take Medda’s money for his backdrops
  • Runs for his life upon seeing Snyder in Pulitzer’s office because he fears that man and the Refuge so much
  • Almost stops working towards better pay because Crutchie got hurt and It’s All His Fault
  • Is not happy-go-lucky and charismatic all the time, more often he is worried about his friends and their health and futures. Also, he does not always like himself.
  • Keeps his drawings private because he a) doesn’t think they’re great and b)has nothing else to keep private
Daddy Issues [ Peter Parker ]

Anonymous said to peteypxrker:

I have a request : Tony has a daughter, and He has only discovered it when she was around 10, and doesn’t know how to handle it, so they have a bad relationship. So, during a fight, the Avengers have to look for somewhere safe and Tony takes them to the house that he bought for his daughter. They spend a week there and Peter starts liking her, even tho at first he was shocked because she doesn’t see Tony as a idol like he does.

A/N: sorry this took so long! I’m trying to speed write the imagines I have in my inbox before I leave for my trip tomorrow while also editing an original story I want to show my aunt once I get to her house. haha, I’m so bad at time management, it’s 1:35 a.m. I’ll just sleep on the six hour drive there.

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  • Cas:
  • I'm a warrior. But I'm different. My overflow of emotions are what make me special, I'm not like the other Angels.
  • I love Humanity, I want to live among them, for someone to want me to stay with them, to tell me that I belong and am wanted for who I am.
  • I want to watch over someone and be cared for in return. I crave affection and need someone to pour all my love onto.
  • Dean:
  • I'm a soldier. But I'm different. I repress my emotions. I didn't have a childhood, I've always felt unloved and uncared for.
  • I have so much love to give, I want to make someone feel like they belong, I want someone to just stay with me and not leave me.
  • I want to care for someone and be watched over in return. I crave affection and I need someone to pour their love on me.
  • Tsukishima: I have feelings for Yachi.
  • Yamaguchi: Shit.
  • Tsukishima: What?
  • Yamaguchi: I do too.
  • Tsukishima: Fuck. *Carries on with life like nothing happened*
I just want a friend

I used to love school. I used to love going to school with my friends. Working hard in class. Participating. Playing. Hanging out. I used to love it all. But now it’s changed. I feel so alone. People say they are my friend. But why do I feel like I have none. You know. The other day they were talking about depression. And one said. “If they want to kill themselves they should do it properly. ” I think that’s when it started. I used to have depression. So you can feel how that would affect me. I slowly started noticing. How I was slightly left out. The one left behind. The one ignored. Uncared for. I broke down three times today. Disappeared for a whole hour. And. No one noticed. Or cared. Or asked about it. When I say something in a group chat it automatically dies. I’m so alone. I just want to be invisible now. I just want to stay at home. I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I’m suffocating. I don’t eat at school anymore. I just hide. But really. I just want a friend. Someone to rely on. To hug. That will accept me for me. That will be there for me. Is that so hard to ask….

Originally posted by puppyjj0ng

anonymous asked:

I want to like your writing but it really bothers me that in both of your longer multi chapter fanfictions, Killian has both hands. In every letter he just had some scars and in special instructions there's no mention at all of anything. It's insensitive and ignorant to write a disabled character as not disabled. I cant enjoy things you write if this is how you write them

I’ve been staring at this for a while trying to figure out how to answer it. Because while I’m really never fond of people taking the tone of “you don’t write what I want you to write so you’re terrible,” I actually do feel like I should address this issue cause it’s important. Pretty sure it’s been talked about a lot in the fandom. I’ve seen both sides – the “You’re a dickhead if you ever write Killian with two hands ever” side and the “We can write what we want. Don’t like; don’t read” side. I’m kind of in a gray zone, if I’m honest, but I’ll attempt to explain it as best I can.

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