i-think

Send me to hell please.

For my meme friend, @sportydaddy

Sportarobbie is love, Sportarobbie is life
I was only 15 years old I loved Sportarobbie so much,
I’ve seen all the memes on Tumblr
I pray to Sportarobbie every night before bed,
thanking them for the life I’ve been given.
Sportarobbie is love, Sportarobbie is life
My dad overhears me and calls me a pink shit
I knew he was just jealous of my devotion for Sportarobbie
I called him a Sportacunt
He slaps me and sends me to go to sleep
Im crying now, and my face hurts
I lay in bed and its really cold
A warmth is moving towards me.
I feel something touch me
Its Sportarobbie
I am so happy
They whispers in to ear “This is my city”
They grabs me with theirs powerful elf hands
and puts me on my hands and knees
I’m ready
I spread my cookies for Sportarobbie
They penetrates my buns
It hurts so much but I do it for Sportarobbie
I can feel my choclade hole tearing as my eyes start to water
I push against their force
I want to please Sportarobbie
They say “Bing bang diggiriggidong” as they fills my buns with their cake cream
My dad walks in
Sportarobbie looks him straight in the eye and says
“You think aerobics is not a cool sport?”
Sportarobbie leaves through my window
Sportarobbie is love, Sportarobbie is life

anonymous asked:

Part 2 of Takao's fem best friend's unrequited love please?? An extra req, if you're gonna do a time skip, can you pls not make it longer than two months? I'd like those emotions to be raw, esp right after Takao knows of her feelings ^^ Thank you!

Anonymous said: Takao anon here! Yes, I’m the original anon who requested the first scenario. Um, honestly, I can’t think of any general plot for this 2nd one; all I actually want is a continuation of the 1st scenario, with more angst before the happy ending~ and yep, I want Takao to return his best friend’s feelings! ^^ So aside from the 2-month specified time, angst+happy ending, and Takao returning (maybe realizing his hidden feelings for her?) that love, like you said, I allow you to do whatever you want. 

I hope you’re not mad at me for delaying this for so long! I honestly don’t know how to feel about this, but here it is, I really hope it’s satisfactory. Since you like the feelings raw, I didn’t put a time skip. Thank you for your patience!

This is a continuation to this story here. You are heavily suggested to proceed only after reading the first part. Female!Reader ahead for consistency. 

It Was Always You by Maroon 5


Originally posted by grrungegoddess

Stupid stupid stupid stupid, he thinks, hands balled into fists at how completely idiotic he is. He should’ve just straightaway ran to your house instead of asking your friends, waiting for them to pick the phone up to ask them where you were, if you were partying with them—that way, he could’ve caught you before it got dark. Although he’s close to your family as your best friend, how is he supposed to knock on the door to your home at nearly midnight? 

What is he going to say if your parents open the front door?

What is he going to say if you are the one who opens the door?

Takao sighs, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his dress shirt and loosening his tie. His hair sticks on his face from sweat, but in contrast to his slightly ragged breath and the sensation of the cold air against his damp skin, his mind is numb. 

He can see your bedroom window from here. It’s dark. You’re probably asleep. The idea of throwing rocks at your window is quickly discarded—you most likely don’t want to look at him in the face again.

The glare of his phone catches his eye and tells him that his girlfriend is looking for him: ten missed calls and a couple dozen of texts, gradually changing tone from sweet questions of where he’s at to a storm of textual rage. He turns off the device—she’s the least of his concerns right now. Takao sits on your empty porch with empty eyes and a rabbit heart as his mind flashes him images of the last few times he hung out with you.

When he can only recall conversations about his relationship and that forced smile on your face, he curses. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he says to himself, feeling as if his heart is in the fist of a phantom hand, painfully clenching the organ. 

The two of you don’t even talk to each other these days—at least nothing of substance like your usual deep or humorous exchanges. Since the end of his second year in Shuutoku, which is around the time he found his “soulmate” (Takao swallows bitterness at the word—how did he have the gall to use it so lightly?), the conversations he shared with you were shallow banter with him mostly talking about his girlfriend and you having to listen. He’d ask for relationship advice, what a girl likes, where to take her on dates. 

You were probably forcing laughter, faking smiles, crying yourself to sleep when you’re alone.

Takao let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. The night is dark and quiet save for the occasional gust of wind and sounds of crickets singing between the grass, but his mind is loud and disorganized: a mix of realization, question, and self-deprecation. The way you looked at him when he talks, how other people seem to let their gazes linger on you and him—everybody knew, even Midorima noticed, for heaven’s sake. How could he miss the signs? How could he be so blinded, even when he was the one that told you “nothing is going to change” when he got a girlfriend?

If only he could go back in time and punch himself in the face for saying that to you. It obviously turned out to be a lie, no matter how he didn’t mean it to be one. He didn’t just replace you, he made you suffer by putting it in your face for at least one year and you say a single word against it.

He blinks, and a tear slowly makes its way down his cheek. It takes a moment for Takao to realize that he’s crying, but when he does, a wave of thoughts darker than the sky he’s under flood his mind: there’s no way you don’t hate him right now, not when he’s caused you nothing but pain for a long time. That’s why you didn’t talk to him after the graduation ceremony, that’s why you’ve been rejecting his offers to lunch together, that’s why you’ve been oddly quiet whenever the two of you hung out. 

He remembers the big game Shuutoku won and how he doesn’t recall you congratulating him. It must’ve been since then. He must’ve hurt you so much without realizing, like the Prince in The Little Mermaid and how he asked her to dance the night away, not knowing of the swords she feels like she’s stepping on. And like the Prince, too, he discarded her for another, despite the sacrifices she has made and the pain she must endure.

Then, he thinks about what will happen next. His apology won’t be enough, not after what you’ve been through. You’ll grow to despise him, cutting him off from your life like removing a parasitic infection—that’s what he’s been anyway, sucking the life and love out of you. You won’t look at him in the face again when you pass by each other on the street. He might have his girlfriend in one arm, but the thought of him not being in your life coils a rope in his chest.

And when he thinks of you having another person by your side, someone who shares kisses with you, someone who gets to make you smile and laugh, the only one who is allowed to hold you in their arms—and that someone is not him…

Takao feels like he’s been physically hurt, but there are no wounds on his skin to show.

He spends the rest of the night punishing himself in the chest with these thoughts sharp as blade, bleeding tears into the night until he’s too tired to stay awake.


You wake up the next morning with puffy red eyes, gauging that it is approaching afternoon by the strong sunlight that enters your bedroom. The weight of your heavy heart is somewhat diminished, not only by the fact that you cried your eyes out the night before, but also by the faint feeling of hunger. After brushing your teeth and a brisk shower, you change into clean T-shirt and shorts, not bothering to conceal your swollen eyes since you’re staying at home for the rest of the day.

Your parents should already be away for work at this time of the day, leaving you alone in your house. Your assumptions are confirmed when you walk downstairs to find silence—even the television is off. 

So when you enter the kitchen to find Takao, sitting with a plate of half-eaten toast in front of him, you gasp as if you’ve seen a ghost.

He does look ghastly, his paler face contrasting to the marks under his eyes. He shows signs of surprise as well when he sees you, which quickly dissolves into hesitance. He’s here with the full intention of talking to you, apologizing, telling you how stupid he was and how he realizes he doesn’t want a life without you—

—you don’t even know he knows.

“Takao-kun…?”   

“__________-chan,” he says with a start—weird since he’s the one barging in your house. He realizes your swollen eyes and remembers that he spent the night crying too, but he can only hope that you don’t notice.

“What are you—how did you get it?” You look at the front door and back at him again, positive that the entrance is properly locked.

“Your parents let me in,” he answers, “I came here in the morning.” Takao still can see your mother’s reaction when she finds him sleeping on a chair as she checks the porch every morning. She was surprised more than anything, but she didn’t ask when he said he has something very important to say to you.

Maybe she knows, and from the way your father glanced at him before offering him breakfast, Takao thinks he knows too. Have you been so upset that your parents notice what’s going on, though you’re not the type to tell them? Did they mention his name during a family dinner, and all of a sudden you just got quiet, like when he mentions his girlfriend’s name? Did they hear your sounds of sobbing across the hallway at night?

“Oh,” you answer dumbly, making a sandwich for yourself as you face the kitchen counter. You don’t want him looking at you, not when you’re like this: vulnerable and unprepared. “What brings you here today?”

“I—you—” he trips on his own words, “__________-chan, we need to talk.”

Fear overcomes you for a split second at the seriousness of his tone. Takao has rarely used it in his conversations with you, but after knowing him for so long, you can tell. He means business.

“What about?” You ask, putting a slice of cheese on toast before busying your hands with something, anything. You don’t want to talk to him.

“__________-chan, look at me.”

You freeze for a moment and hope he doesn’t notice, but Takao does not hold the nickname Hawk Eye for nothing. You slowly turn to him, looking at him in the eye, keeping your defences up with whatever dignity you have left in you.

In front of you stands the boy who you had your heart in his hands, and instead of looking powerful and confident, he’s not much better than you are. For a second you are tempted to throw in a joke about his face—he must’ve partied so hard and the hangover still hasn’t subsided, but you know the humorous attempt is merely a cover-up of the truth.

“__________-chan,” he calls your name again, softer this time as if reminiscing a memory, “do you… like me?”

At that point, thoughts of lying to him, telling him that of course you do—you’re not best friends if you don’t, are thrown out the window. There’s no use for sugar-coating and false masks anymore. Your grip to whatever leash that has been keeping your sanity together loosens, and tears begin to pool in your eyes as fast as he made you fall in love with him, breaking the dam.

You defy his orders, looking down to the floor and covering your face with both hands. Takao’s eyes widen only a fraction before he feels a pang in his heart. He knows you don’t usually cry in front of people, that you prefer to let loose when you are alone in your room—the fact that you’re openly crying in the kitchen with the cause of your pain right in front of you is proof that he made you go through a lot.

He feels like he’s suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, “I—I tried not to… I thought—”

He places a comforting hand on your shoulder, attempting to pull you into a hug, but when you flinch and freeze before taking a step back, another portion of his heart breaks. You inhale deeply yet shakily, cupping your hand over your mouth as if it stops the sobbing somehow.

“It’s okay,” you say, a sudden calm overcoming you and his eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “I, we’re not going to the same university, s-so we won’t see each other as much,” you continue, cursing inwardly at your shaky voice when you see Takao’s expression.

“I’ll—I’ll stay out of your way!” It comes out as a suggestion, but it’s like his heart is about to burst in the phantom hand’s tight grip.

“I promise not to get in the way of your relationship.” He swallows, scenes of not seeing you ever again playing in his mind, and his mouth feels dry and bitter.

“I didn’t want you to know in the first place. Just please… pretend you don’t know.” His stomach sinks at the request.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, but it feels as if you’re trying to convince yourself, “I’ll be okay.”

That’s when he snaps, pulling you into a hug so tight you’re encased by his whole body. The desperation in his hands as he cups the back of your head says he’s afraid that you’ll slip through him like sand. Pressed against his chest like this, you feel his rapid heartbeat and warmth, and the tears you have been trying so hard to supress makes their way down your cheek, seeping into the material of his shirt.

“No, don’t, please,” he tells you, exhaling shakily, “I was—if I let you go now you’ll run away, and I spent the whole night thinking about what would happen and I,” he swallows, “I really can’t imagine not having you with me.”

“Then what?” You cry, pushing at his chest in anger to put distance between you. “You want me to stick around and ‘stand by you’ while you’re with your girlfriend? I’ve done that for the past year!” Your voice breaks with the gradually rising volume, evidence of how hard you cried the night before. “I don’t want to go through that anymore. I’ve had enough.”

The room falls into silence as Takao looks at you while you quietly lower your eyes down to the floor. Thoughts run a thousand miles an hour in your head: if Takao only loves you as much as a friend does, there’s no point in having this conversation anymore—at least not until you move on. You must cut all ties with him, start anew, and fall in love again to be ready to face him.

“You hate me now, don’t you?” He asks.

Even the words sting his tongue when he says them.

This time you look him in the eyes as you give him your answer.

“I wish I could,” you whisper, “that would make things so much easier.”

And like a meteor colliding with Earth, there is realization and clarity, like the smoke is cleared out of his mind. When he pulls you by the arm and crashes his lips onto yours in a desperate kiss, it feels as if everything makes sense—it’s right, and he has never felt nothing as perfect as this before.

Your eyes widen at the foreign sensation. You’ve never expected this to happen, never in your wildest dreams—at least not after you’ve discarded them. You feel tears well again in your eyes for the umpteenth time in the past twenty-four hours, because how can you not cry while he’s kissing you and you’re already giving up on him? Any form of resistance you can come up with is futile: your push isn’t as strong and your fists are instead bringing him closer, the way you try to pull away but always responding when he chases you.

Inside, you figure that there is still a bit of hope that he would return your feelings.

Takao’s kiss is deep, passionate, desperate. It’s more emotional than your previous conversation combined, it tells you everything you need to know about him and him you: that he is certainly not willing to let you go or run away, and that a small part of you hasn’t lost your wish of being with him despite what you try to tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” he says in between kisses, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise, just give me the chance to.”

You gasp his name and he moans against your lips, kissing until the fire in his gut slowly turns into an ember, and by then he’s peppering slow kisses around your face in silent admiration and affection.

“What about your girlfriend?” You ask quietly. You really wish that you can skip this part, but he’s technically still in a relationship with someone else. Takao sighs, fishing out his phone and turning it on. The two of you stare until the blank screen lights up, and after a few seconds you can see notifications flooding in his phone, her name glaring in pixels. You spot snippets of the long sentences she sent to him, cuss words and spelling errors that turns out to be a continuation of what he received the night before.

“It’s clear that she’s upset of me ditching the party last night,” Takao scoffs a bit at that, “but who cares? She most likely found somebody else to grind with on the dance floor if she has the gall to diss me like that.”

“That’s horrible,” you say, eyebrows scrunching lightly with discomfort.

Takao places the device on the kitchen counter, paying absolutely no attention to it before he moves in to kiss you softly on the lips. When you pull away, it’s slow and unwilling, like you want it to last forever, but the need for air makes such wish impossible. His eyes are lidded, looking at you with an expression you can’t exactly decipher. You’ve never seen this look on his face before—something tells you that you’ll see more of this side of him in the future.

“I can’t believe it’s you all along,” he whispers, kissing you one more time. You reciprocate with equally, closing your eyes as you allow yourself to sink in the feeling of him wrapped around your senses. He smiles into the kiss.

“We’ve got a lot of talking to do.”

tomorrow morning is my last appointment with my personal trainer. she’s been really helpful, but i don’t want to pay for another 12 sessions.

i’m nervous as hell about trying to continue on my own, but i’m not giving up on losing this weight and getting healthy!

I’m Alive!!!!

*Next to Normal soundtrack plays in the background*

Yeesh okay I owe everyone an apology, because I put out a message a week ago promising to come back and be more active after a few days of kind of doing nothing and then promptly… didn’t do that.

Fortunately, not because anything was wrong - last weekend there was a big festival thing at my college called Winter Carnival that’s basically our way of celebrating it being cold and dark and starting up regular classes again after J-term, and since I’m a senior I really wanted to go to a bunch of their events. Between that, FINALLY getting my room clean and my act back together in some measure, my thesis rearing its ugly and as yet still not very well-defined head, life just ate me for the past week, and I haven’t been online at all except to do work. But I’m alive, I am… actually on top of my homework?? I am still more or less panicking about thesis and job prospects but manageably so, I’m caught up with life junk like bank statements and doctor’s appointments and even my laundry, and I am, honestly, for real this time, coming back online and will start posting again. I’m sorry to any of you that I made worry, you’re sweet for thinking of me <3

I have a buttload of fanfiction to read and to write (next update for Written in Sand is not far off! and those prompts are actually going to get done, I swear), some asks and mentions to answer, and people’s blogs to catch up on. So lots of good stuff! Aaaaand I’m back!!

anonymous asked:

O-oh, I see, I was under the impression the 77th class was in despair over about 3-5 years-ish... my bad

Hmm. No I can’t say exactly but we were in despair for around two years, I think. But I remember it now so that’s why I told you the age they had the last time I saw them. And that was around a week before I was captured by the FF.


So it’s been around six months now. So they are 6 months older.

3

Okay but this is the first time someone has called Yurio something “masculine”/”strong” and it clearly means a lot to him. People usually use terms like fairy or princess when describing him (JJ even goes as far as calling him a girl and Lilia uses prima ballerina which is a female only term). Throughout the show, Yurio struggles a lot with people calling him “feminine” terms and is constantly trying to push his bad boy image in an attempt to make himself seem more tough/manly. To have Otabek read him “correctly” so to speak obviously makes him visibly happy and I think this is one of the reasons he’s so quick to accept the friendship invitation.

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