in a muumuu

Hey so Hawaiian!Hunk is becoming a really popular headcanon and I decided to give you some cool Hawaii facts from a real life Hawaiian™ so that way you don’t have to perpetuate stereotypes. I haven’t seen it too much yet, but I understand that it’s hard to find accurate stuff online if you don’t already know where to look. (Other Hawaiians feel free to add stuff)

  • It’s very rare to find a pure Hawaiian, there’s ~200 left. So when you’re making your Hunk keep that in mind. Here’s the formula for making a Hawaiian. Asian + Polynesian + Caucasian. For example, I am Hawaiian, Chinese, Filipino, Portuguese, and Swiss. And i had the smallest number of ethnicities out of my friend, I knew one dude with 15. That’s kinda a lot, but not uncommon. 
    • Also, it’s totally not weird to ask someone what they are. (something i needed to learn not to do in my college because apparently it’s rude??)
    • I personally would HC Hunk as being a mix of Hawaiian, Samoan, Tongan, Filipino, Portuguese, Chinese, and maybe some British.
    • Fun fact: the reason we are so mixed was because plantation workers were imported from around the pacific and they usually stayed for so long that they would end up marrying a Hawaiian. Tbh this is probably why we didn’t completely die out in the 1800s.
  • No one really speaks full Hawaiian anymore, our language is sadly dying out, but there have been efforts made (like charter schools where they only speak Hawaiian to the students) and everyone here knows at least 30 words in Hawaiian. However, we do speak pidgin very frequently, it’s basically a dialect of the islands evolved from the Hawaiians first learning the languages of the traders who came to Hawaii. Because of pidgin we call a lot things by a different name (and most of the time don’t even know it has a different word).
    • Examples: Mainland for the continent of America, chicken skin for goosebumps, rubber band for hair tie (i’m actually not sure what the real word is…), etc
    • Also this means that you’re constantly having to translate when you’re on the mainland. I never realized how much pidgin I used until my friends just kept giving me blank stares. It’s very frustrating, especially when you realize you have never known the translation and have to just hope the others will understand.
  • Hawaii is a very unique place. The culture, the people, the weather, the aloha spirit, etc. Any time you leave the islands for an extended periods you get very homesick because it’s difficult to find things that are authentically Hawaiian outside of Hawaii.
  • Some stereotypes:
    • Yes all of us do at least one of these things, surfing, hula, playing ukulele, singing, or swimming.
    • We do wear “Hawaiian shirts” and “muumuus”, however they are nothing like what you are probably thinking of. We call them aloha shirts and Mu'umu'us, and they are our formal wear. The designs are a lot more subtle and there really aren’t any crazy bright colors. The designs are usually quilt patterns of native flora and fauna
    • yeah we’re pretty chill with walking barefoot and in a bathing suit. The weather is very temperate and you don’t really need to wear clothes so it’s not really a big deal to see people in various stages of undress. We really don’t care about nudity that much…
  • Hawaiian Quirks:
    • we call everyone older than us Aunty or Uncle and pretty much everyone over 20 responds to that. It’s a sign of respect. It also confuses mainlanders a lot because they think we have super huge families, which we totally do, but still I’m not actually related to everyone on the island.
    • being on the verge of destroying the earth every time someone calls slippers “flip flops”. THEY SLIP ON AND THEY DO NOT MAKE A GODDAMN FLIP OR FLOP NOISE. it’s such a dumb name pls stop. I legitimately thought it was a dumb tv joke for 18 years of my life because tv has never been accurate with anything about Hawaii so there’s no way it was actually accurate with such a dumb name.
    • automatically judging someone based on their reaction to you saying you’re from Hawaii ex: “OH! You’re from Hawaii??!!!1!!!11 That’s so cool!!!11z!! Do you guys live in grass shacks?? is this the first time you’re wearing real clothes???? do you know what the internet is??!!??? How did you get here??” (yes these are real questions my friends and I have been asked) If you ask any of these we will probably avoid you forever
    • Using Hawaiian words to describe moral values because they hold so much more meaning than the English translations 
    • Having a list of local foods you’re gonna have when you get back
    • layering up once it gets into the 60s (15ish) because hello the coldest it ever gets in Hawaii is 60 and that’s only in the dead of winter.
    • Freaking out about seasons. We have no seasons here. It took me 18 years to see Fall and Spring and I can count on my hand how many times I’ve seen snow. So yeah, we lose it every time we see snow. Also we wish people a bright Christmas because we’ve really only experienced maybe one white Christmas
  • Although body image issues are still a thing in Hawaii they aren’t as bad as everywhere else. Hawaiian ads usually features locals without photoshop so we aren’t really bombarded with this “perfect” white body image

Feel free to come talk with me if you want to know more! I tried to keep this simple.

(More Bitty babysitting Princess Robinson)

Bitty smiled when he saw a familiar car parked outside the Haus, and then remembered he’d left a bowl of cookie dough in the fridge and broke into a sprint.

“It’s Tuesday!” he shouted from the doorway, slamming the door shut behind him and dropping his bag. “That dough is for Princess!”

“Dude, chill,” Holster said around a spoon of cookie dough. “We remembered. We’re just sampling.”

Bitty snatched the dough off the table and put the saran wrap back over it. Ransom and Holster, in their business suits, slouched at the table with a Wicks who was eating cereal in nothing but his boxer-briefs.  “Wicky, could you go put a bathrobe or a muumuu or something on?” Bitty asked, putting the dough back in the refrigerator.  “It’s ten to eleven.”  Wicks grunted and complied, taking his cereal bowl with him; he wafted a definite odor of alcohol as he went by.

“What’s for lunch?” Ransom asked, putting down a spoon clean of any trace of cookie dough.  He started unbuttoning his jacket and cuffs, ready to indulge in deeper leisure.

“Don’t you have work?” Bitty asked. “In Boston?”

“I’m working from home today,” Ransom said airily, although unlike Holster, there was no half-open laptop at the table to prop up his disguise.

Bitty shook his head and let out a disgusted “Y’all,” and was clearing the living room and kitchen of beer cans when he saw Carrie’s Jeep pull up at the curb. Princess came bolting out of the car with her arms full–a colouring book and a youth hockey stick that cost a hundred dollars clutched across her chest, one fist wrapped around her Bratz doll, backpack dangling from her elbow. Carrie came after her, carrying Princess’s jacket and hat.

“She was up late last night,” she said, handing them over. “So if you can get her to nap, that’s great.”  Then she smiled and waved to someone behind him, and went back to collect her things from her car and head off to class.

Bitty was unsurprised by the scene at the top of the porch stairs, where Holster was the solemn recipient of book, stick, and doll, and Ransom was squatting down so Princess could climb up for a piggyback ride.  He handed Holster the jacket and hat as well, as revenge for the cookie dough.

“You know,” Holster said, as Ransom galloped into the house with a ponylike neigh, Princess shrieking with laughter on his back, “It’s not fair that you’re getting paid to babysit when we’re the ones doing all the work.”

Bitty sniffed.  “If you don’t wanna volunteer, Mr. Birkholtz, you do not have to keep showing up.”

“Ah, well,” Holster said, his eyes softening with something very unbrolike as he watched Ransom bounce from kitchen to living room with the girl on his back. “It’s, you know.”

Bitty looked at him for a minute, then relented. “Okay, then. What do you want for lunch?”

anonymous asked:

Guzma-boy seeing his quiet, sweet, and demure pregnant s/o roast/fight/tear into someone who was talking shit about her bf

had a hard time with this. but I hope it’s ok.

You were already getting tired waddling through the Thrifty Megamart, and you and Guzma hadn’t even made it past the produce aisle. It seemed every older woman and man had a comment to make about your protruding stomach, especially since you had previously thrown caution to the wind that morning and thrown on a crop top (The only item from Plumeria that still fit). Usually you could hide your belly under a shirt, but when the average temperature could be 100 degrees in the highs with humidity who gave a shit about hiding their stomach?

“I swear to god…” you mumbled when a woman in an obnoxiously flowered muumuu approached. Guzma was smart. He fled into the cereal aisle and seemed intent on studying the Toucannon Loops and Combee O’s. Your Mimikyu was oblivious to all that happened, content with bouncing happily in the cart and gurgling at the fruit.

“My goodness!” she exclaimed, “We’re certainly far along aren’t we?”

“Oh yes… We certainly are.” You gave your faux smile and studied the nanab berries intently, an inner mantra repeating on loop: don’t fucking touch me, don’t fucking touch me, don’t fucking touch me.

“Is it twins?” she asked hopefully. She didn’t flinch when Mimikyu growled from the cart.

“No.” you replied curtly.



“My, don’t tell me it’s quadruplets!” she exclaimed loudly. You could hear Guzma trying not to lose his shit in the cereal.

“Nope. Excuse me.” You reached over her arm for a box of strawberries, nodding vaguely in her direction before pushing the cart away.

“Oh well dear, if it’s only one then I think you might have to check with the doctor! It’s not normal to be this big if it’s only one. Maybe you’re retaining too much water. Poor thing. What do your parents say? Aren’t they worried you’re too young to be having a baby?” Lady’s mouth fucking ran a mile a minute and she seemed very capable of keeping up with your waddling gait as you tried to flee to the frozen foods.

“Parents are chill.” You replied simply. You could feel Rosalie kicking roughly at your skin, organs, anywhere her feet could reach. Probably just as pissed off as you are.

“Well is the father even in your life?”

Oh my god damn son of a bitch here we go…

“He’s over there.” You motioned. By now Guzma was chatting up an old friend of his, one of the Team Skull grunts who had been ordered to stock the shelves. Didn’t matter anyways, he knew you could handle it on your own. Your temper was worse than Wela Volcano now that you were pregnant. It was about time this bitch had a taste of your wrath.

“Him?!” she yelped incredulously, “And a delinquent like that is letting you shop all by yourself?? Such a deadbeat father. Don’t worry little baby… Your mama isn’t alone.”

It was when she started reaching for your exposed stomach that you couldn’t bite back your hormonal rage any longer.


As she scurried away and Guzma tried placating you, his box of Touncannon Loops found your hands and sailed across the air aiming for the woman’s head.

Okay, so I’ve written my first ever Grace and Frankie fic. It might be really bad, so read at your own risk. I’m waiting for my AO3 account to come through so posting it on here for now! Please be kind.
(Apparently Tumblr Mobile cuts this off because there is a ‘read more’ button so just be aware that you should be looking out for a happy ending.)


9:00pm, Santa Fe

Grace wrote her a list before she left. Her daily dos and don'ts, which Frankie really should detest, she really should. Reminders to stay away from sodium, to check her blood pressure, to take her pills. Things Frankie resents and despises. Or at least she would, usually. But the letter has not left her side since she found it tucked into her suitcase a week ago. Not once. Not even when she takes a shower - she’s perfected the art of plastic wrapping it to protect it from the steady fall of water (after several failed test-runs with the daily newspaper).

She always takes it out as soon as Jacob leaves the room. Scoffs at the absurdity of it all. The tone of it is so Grace - patronising in a way that honestly, she thinks, she should hate. She would have hated. But she doesn’t. Somehow, now, she has to admit that she finds it, inexplicably and almost laughably, sweet. Because Grace wants her to stay healthy. To live happily. To stick around for the next twenty years. Because Grace cared enough to write it. Because actually, she realises, she wants Grace to care.

She pulls it out from inside her shirt - from the little pocket she’s haphazardly stitched in near her chest. The one that now exists in all of Frankie’s clothes. Jaggedly sewn squares that fortunately don’t show too much from the other side, in everything from dungarees to her favourite pair of pajamas. She wonders, briefly, if Grace knows that her red silk set is missing. Wonders whether she’ll know Frankie has taken it. Wonders what she’ll think about it if she does.

She rests the flower-shaped paper in her palms. A piece torn from the block on the fridge. Their fridge, with their yam lube and overflowing amounts of cheese, and fresh olives for Grace’s martinis and her face cream that she insists needs to stay cold. Their fridge, with the magnetic letters Frankie ‘borrowed’ from Macklin so she could write cuss words at Grace when she was giving her the silent treatment. With the picture that Maddy had drawn of her 'grandmoms’ holding hands on a (rather too stony and red) beach. With the photo of their whole family at Coyote’s sobriety ceremony.

She focuses back on the note in front of her. Squints. She needs reading glasses really, she dares to admit to herself. But she only wants Grace’s. The bold, black frames that she always inwardly smirked at - the ones she thought were too bulky for Grace’s thin face. She wants them.

She brings her index finger to the page, traces over the neat, curled letters. Smiles that, despite all the signs it is Grace who is responsible for the list - the strict, underlined instructions - the words 'don’t try me, Frankie’ written in red - there is something else there too. Little phrases like 'touch base with Joanne’ and 'at least clean your bong’ slipped in organically, because Grace knows her, and knows how she operates. Yeah, it is Grace who wrote it, but it is a Grace who has a Frankie.

Frankie pulls her hand back, bringing it to her sternum and resting it there while she looks up at the stars. Wonders if Grace can see them, too. Wonders if they look just as blurry to her. As the first, heavy tear falls onto the paper - the sacred paper - the paper Frankie has never let near the sand, never let near to her bonfires - she makes out the last instruction with no visual aids needed (she’s read it a thousand times). Cradles the now blotchy and almost unreadable list to her chest. '15. Please don’t forget Grace.’

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

But does what Adam did, and you consider him better than the rest. Until now I don't see anything that puts him over the others, being the only lesbian representation Dorothy and Ruby. In one episode where they fell in love quickly as the wind. So how is Adam better?

Let’s take my list of people who I gave to counter my “Adam is the worst show runner in the world” anon and be explicit.

Adam doesn’t have a documented habit routinely fire people … hundreds of them over 27 years to avoid statutory raises (Dick Wolf).

Adam to our knowledge has never told an underweight actress to loose weight and fired her because she was “fat” (Dick Wolf) in fact he and his production gave Ginnifer Goodwin plenty of time to loose weight after her baby during season 4.  

Adam has never gone on message boards anonymously but not really to mock fans (Aaron Sorkin) or when banned from that message board used his critically acclaimed massively rated tv show to say this about an identifyable person:

Let me explain something to you. This is sort of my field. The people on these sites? They’re the cast of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The muumuu wearing Parliament smoker? That’s Nurse Ratched. When Nurse Ratched is unhappy, the patients are unhappy. (x)

Adam has also never sent his junior female writers into LGBT spaces to actively lie about how they aren’t really killing off an LGBT character and then let that writer twist in the wind when it went south (Jason Rothenberg).

Adam has also never gone on to the fandoms largest forum to argue with women who were telling him that his episode about rape drugs was really a comedy and very funny and then wrote an followup episode titling it with the word the fans used to describe the first episode (Joseph Mallozzi).  

Adam has not cast his entire family to play parts (Peter Deluise).

Adam has not fired a lead actress when she raised issues about the show’s writing of women (the Stargate producers as a group).  Or recast that role with a younger woman.  Or forced another actress who had worked for him for ten years to do a year on one of his other shows when he knew she wanted to move on due to a contract loophole.  

Adam has never stopped speaking to his lead actor when he brought up that his use of personal pictures as promotional stills on his blog was a union violation that was stealing money out of actors pockets (Joseph Mallozzi).

Adam has never told his establish fanbase that they weren’t what his new show as aimed at because they were two old and two female and they wanted a different demographic but then blamed that fanbase for not watching when the show failed (Brad Wright).

Adam has never openly mocked other establish actors and encouraged his fans to do so because there was another show using the same century old source material (Steven Moffett and Mark Gatiss).  

Adam hasn’t fired an actress for becoming pregnant (Joss Whedon)

Adam hasn’t to my knowledge written an entire show about sentient sex dolls (Joss Whedon) or written iconic female superheroes out of the point of view of their stories.  Or described women who can’t have children as monsters.  

Adam has never described people who objected to the death of a bisexual character as nine hysterical women on the internet (Russell T. Davis).  And told them to go read poetry.

Adam has never had casting couch rumors about him nor has he ever called out an entire fandom on his smash hit highly rated television show (Ryan Murphy) nor openly played favorites with actors he found attractive nor actively driven off female producers just because he could.

Adam has never been an objective monster to female cast (Rick Berman) (x)

Those are all off the top of my head… anyone want to add more show runner horror stories?

A Girl Worth Fighting For

Prompt:  White Day ~ A  Girl Worth Fighting For
Pairing:  Nalu (can’t resist)
Rating:  fluffy
Word count:  1646
‘A Girl Worth Fighting For’


Summary:  Natsu navigates unspeakable horrors to win Lucy’s  love ~ or ~ Natsu goes shopping, looking for the perfect white day gift.


A fun little drabble exchange for White Day tagging @impracticaldemon @ff-darkshininglight @cheer-chan @magerain @rizzy09

“Happy, are you sure this is the best department store in Magnolia?”  Natsu craned his head up to look at the fancy lettering on the big glass windows.  "Hudson’s Em - poor - e - um?  Doesn’t look that great.  You sure this the best one?“

"Well yeah, lookit all the stuff in the windows!”  Happy gestured to the fancy display of mannequins wearing the latest Heart Kreuz fashions.  "Mira and Erza love this place!“

"But will I find Lucy the perfect gift here?  She’s not like other girls.”

“Yeah, she’s weird.”  The exceed chortled and flew out of reach.  "But you’re getting just as weird as her, worrying about finding a white day gift.  Give her fish!“

Natsu shook his head.  "If you’re not gonna help you can leave.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for all the fish in the river.”

Putting his worries aside for the moment, Natsu strode up to the double doors and entered Hudson’s Emporium.  Clothes, shoes, handbags and luggage were on the immediate left; on the right were displays of sporting equipment, kitchenware and lamps.  

Natsu wandered aimlessly, Happy trailing behind him giving a constant stream of poor advice.  "Ooh!  Buy her a vacuum!  How 'bout hip waders?  Gym membership?  Lookit that muumuu, maybe they have one in her size.“

Natsu glared at his exceed.  "Oi!  I said if you’re not gonna help you could leave!”

His usual shit-eating grin in place, Happy responded.  "I never said I was gonna help - I said I wouldn’t miss this for all the fish in the river!“

An announcement blared over the public address system:  "White Day Special Sale next to the food department starting in five minutes.”

With shining eyes and hope reborn in his heart, Natsu let go of Happy.  "Lucy loves food!“

Rubbing his sore neck, Happy coughed.  "That’s one thing we can agree on, she loves greasy food!”

They joined the torrents of men rushing to the back of the store also intent on procuring the perfect White Day gift for their special lady.  In between the food and millinery departments was a long table bedecked with a blinding white tablecloth.  Upon it was a dazzling selection of white items; from marshmallows and white chocolate to candles, coffee cups and lingerie - all astonishingly white.

All the men trudged closer beginning to paw the merchandise.  And once the P.A. system squawked alerting them to a time limit they began to toss through the sale items with terrible haste.

Natsu had never been subjected to such indignities before.  As a mage of incredible power and wild disregard for personal safety and the subtleties of personal space, Natsu had never, ever been elbowed in a brouhaha over merchandise.  Each man was desperately digging, searching for a cheap yet stylish and hopefully beloved gift for their special someone.

Happy flew overtop and dive-bombed the now swarming group of men pawing the selection of marshmallows, candles and skimpy night attire.  Competition got fiercer.  A fist-fight broke out over a set of mugs emblazoned with a cheesy 'love’ print.  Three men were sprawled on the marble floor - tussling over a package containing white slippers, a nighty and robe.

Shouted threats, kicks and thrown elbows kept Natsu off balance. He had never seen non-mages act like guild members before - it was more than a little off-putting.  Finally his frozen state broke.  Natsu dove into the throng with a battle cry worthy of Erza fighting for the last piece of strawberry cake.  He searched with single-minded aim, finding and discarding novelty knickers embroidered with a suggestion he almost burst into flames just reading.  The candles were a bit tempting, but not nice enough he decided.  Marshmallows were 'meh’, the chocolate too similar to what he’d received, the nightwear was all too nosebleed inducing and the mugs were honestly ugly.

The same voice emerged from the speakers:  "Final five minutes left in our White Day Special Sale!“

The table of sale items was now engulfed in a writhing sea of desperate men still seeking the perfect purchase to please their girlfriends.  Intent on one final item he’d had yet to examine, Natsu was taken unawares by two people playing tug of war with a large box.  The smaller of the two men fighting head-butted his opponent who then stumbled backwards, grabbed at the table trying to keep upright, and flung a white metal trivet as he fell - which happened to conk Natsu on his forehead, knocking him out.
Happy dragged his friend under the table, hiding from the melee.  He lightly slapped Natsu’s face and when that didn’t work, he put some muscle into it.  Natsu roused ten minutes later as the special event table was being put away - the saleslady and her two assistants screaming were the perfect wake-up call.

A bit groggy and now with a dully pounding headache, Natsu ran with Happy as the three shop workers yelled 'pervert’ at the top of their lungs.

Down a corridor and then up a set of stairs they found a quiet corner of the store.  More than a little depressed and despondent Natsu sighed and confided in Happy.  "That was my last hope.  White Day is tomorrow and I don’t have the slightest idea of what to get Lucy.”

“Let’s have a snack!”  Happy tugged Natsu by the hand to a set of café tables and chairs.  "Hudson’s has the best tako-yaki in town.“

"Maybe food with help me think.”  Natsu slumped into a seat.  "I just wanted to give her something as nice as she is.“  Picking at the food Happy brought back, Natsu ate slowly and sparingly.  "The sale is over and I don’t know what to do.”

“We won’t leave until you find something.”

“You’re the best, buddy!”


To mark the special occasion, Natsu entered the apartment building on Strawberry Street using the ground floor entrance after reminding Happy he had is own special gift to deliver to Charle.  Natsu trudged up the flights of stairs clutching Lucy’s gift, wrapped in white paper and silver ribbon.  It wasn’t as flashy as some of the gifts he’d seen available, nor as sexy as the underwear - but upon seeing it, he’d known his search was over.

Knuckles poised over the door, the slayer paused.  Natsu took a few deep calming breaths and shook his head to clear his thoughts.  He knocked and waited, shifting the parcel from under one arm to the other.

The door opened showing Lucy’s welcoming face becoming confused.  "What are you doing?“

Natsu grinned.  "Is that how you greet a guest?  Weirdo.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use the door - or wait for me to let you in - or -”  Lucy went silent as she saw the gift - and more importantly - the gift tag that bore her name in big swooping letters.  "Come in.“

Natsu remembered his uncertainty over his gift and his swagger lost a lot of his strut.  He covered up his lapse in poise by setting down the gift box on the coffee table and dropping into his usual spot on Lucy’s couch.  Natsu clasped his fingers together and puffed air, blowing the unruly lock of hair that covered one eye out of the way.

"What happened?”  Lucy couldn’t stop herself from leaning over close from her seat and gently tracing over the band-aid over his eyebrow, full of concern for her best friend.  "Does it hurt?“

His cheeks coloured a dull pink, clashing with his hair.  "Nothin’.  An’ it only hurts a little bit.”

“You have to take care of yourself you know.”

“Yeah - but it was for a good reason.”  He gave Lucy a timid smile.  "Remember those chocolates you made for me?“

She nodded and bit her lip.  "I remember.”

“Please accept this.”  Natsu snatched up the box and thrust it at Lucy.  "It’s not one of the traditional recommended gifts, but as soon as I saw it I wanted you to have it.“

"…”  Lucy took hold of the proffered box.  "Thank you.“  She smiled and her eyes gleamed with unshed tears.  "You didn’t have to get me anything.  I did hope but I wasn’t expecting.”  Lucy stared at the pretty white paper with silver ribbon on her lap and traced her name on the card.

“Open it.”  Eagerness coloured Natsu’s voice as he encouraged Lucy.  "I saw it and thought of you.“

Lucy plucked the card off the gift and set it aside on the table (that was going into her scrapbook later).  Lucy tugged on the ribbon and set that beside the tag.  Using her nails she slit the tape all around the box lid.  Slowly she prised off the lid and sat silent.  Natsu had given her a selection of pens, ink and a leather bound notebook in the creamiest pale yellow colour.

She blinked, set the gift down on the table and held out her hands to Natsu who was holding his breath as he tried to figure out if Lucy was pleased.  Her eyes sparkled and in that instant Natsu knew Lucy was happy.  He lunged forward hugging her; wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, breathing in calming air.  "I’m so glad you like it!”

“Yeah, I like …it…and you.”

Natsu nodded, then realized Lucy couldn’t see that - he needed to speak.  "I know, or else you wouldn’t have taken so much time and care to make those chocolates.“

Lucy blushed.  "This is a very thoughtful gift, but it’s much more than three times the value of what I gave you.  You didn’t -”

“Don’t be such a weirdo.”  Natsu pulled back so he could see Lucy’s face.  He looked into her eyes as he rubbed his forehead.  "You’re worth it, and never let it be said you’re not a girl worth fighting for.“

I Knew I Loved You

Hey all!  I know you guys have been waiting for a sequel to “Bulletproof” since I posted it… so here it is!  It is also a prompt “You’re telling me you’ve never been to Ikea?”

So here it is!  Hope you enjoy… and I really thank you all for your patience in me getting to these!  Some inspiration comes from the Savage Garden song by the same title.

Keep reading

super excited for the will & grace revival and all, but is there some kind of petition i can sign to send to the wardrobe dept. to put eric in something besides a suit and debra in something besides a plus-sized muumuu dress that makes her look eight months pregnant bc these are very attractive people who deserve to wear nice things

anonymous asked:

fluff scenario where Sinbad, Jafar, Muu, Alibaba and Hakuryuu trying to cheer up their so?


Ja’far began to worry when he noticed tears forming in his S/O’s eyes, he didn’t know what caused all of this but he did know they had called him over for something important if they were crying. He immediately placed his hand onto their cheek and wiped away the stray tears that had fallen. He didn’t say anything but the look in his eyes asked if one) They were okay and two) who he needed to kill.  The second his S/O told them that they were being harassed earlier, his eyes lit with a spark of pure hatred. He had been an assassin once and he was damn certain that he’d kill the person who made his precious S/O cry.


Alibaba grabbed his S/O’s jaw the moment he saw them look away from him and noticed tear streaks already on their face. He didn’t know what he could do. All he wanted to do was protect them but he had to go help the Magi and there was no way he was bringing them into a war zone. They just didn’t understand in his mind. Despite being short, he tilted their head to face his and kissed away what he could of their tears, “You know I have to go.” He said but encased them in his arms for the time being, helping out could wait a few more minutes.


Hakuryuu couldn’t stand to see his S/O upset and when they came to him crying he had no idea what to do so he just grabbed them into a hug and refused to let go. He soon felt them relax into his arms and he slowly fell to the ground with them so that they could sit in his lap and he could stroke their hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll never let mother hurt you.” He had already hated his mother but the fact that she had gone so far as to threaten his S/O was the final straw in a mess of a haystack. By the time his S/O had fallen asleep in his arms he had already formed a plan to get back at his mother.



Muu had no idea how to comfort his S/O at first and immediately went to  Scheherazade for advice before going over to their house. Muu did his best to calm them down but knew he probably wouldn’t be able to. He didn’t know what it was like to have a pet and knew it was probably sad to lose one but he just couldn’t  connect. Despite that he did hold them in his arms and they ended up cuddling in to him on the couch and told him stories about the pet they had lost.


Sinbad had not expected to open the door to a crying S/O and even less to have them throw themselves at him. He managed to catch them in time but gave them a questioning glance anyways. He didn’t understand till they showed him the picture they had found of their old pet who had died of a car running into it a year or so back. He shook his head at them in a way that meant he cared and didn’t want them to cry despite it probably coming across as uncaring. He then buried his face into the crook of their neck before picking them up and closing the door with his foot as he carried them to the couch so that he could make them some tea to hopefully calm them down. “You can tell me stories if you like.” 

I hope these ended up well. I haven’t seen Magi in a while and I’ve been distracted with so many other things. Thanks for the request!

Admin Thiad