LOL I CANT COPE WITH SADNESS SO OBVIOUSLY I WROTE UTTERLY MEANINGLESS JAKE AND AMY WEDDING FLUFF INSTEAD OF ANYTHING USEFUL
TITLES FROM TAYLOR SWIFT, DAN GOOR CAN FIGHT ME PERSONALLY, I HOPE THIS SOOTHES EVERYONES SOULS A BIT LIKE IT SORT OF DID MINE
shoutout to @parlegee for proofreading, ur the number one
how much the general universe seems to specifically have it out to ruin his
life, Jake thinks that he’s been having a pretty amazing day so far.
Of course, it is
his wedding day, so it’s inherently supposed to be a good one, unless he’s the
generic fiance from all those rom coms who isn’t right
for spunky Jennifer Garner and Matthew McConaughey is scheduled to burst
through the doors roughly three hours ago yelling I object.
Jake’s pretty sure that that movie doesn’t actually exist, but the concept
of it is kind of terrifying, because what if he is
Random Wrong Fiance No. 23, except instead of Matthew McConaughey ruining
things, the ceiling falls in, or Amy gets abducted by aliens. Or worst, Charles
gets abducted by aliens. Or even worst, Gina’s baby
gets abducted by aliens.
That would definitely be the worst
of all, Jake thinks, because Gina would never let any of them forget that her
progeny was probably the youngest person ever to do space travel.
he thinks, getting back on topic – he should really be concentrating on his
dancing, because he and Amy nearly just crashed into Holt and his mom, which, wow,
that’s making him emotional, look
at the ceiling, Jake – God,
anyways. There’s gotta be a rule, somewhere, is what Jake’s trying to say. A
rule, somewhere in the universe, right, that wedding days are off limits for terrible awful no-good bad stuff to happen. If it’s not a rule
already, he’s making it a rule.
Or like, maybe Amy could make it a
rule, because she’s a Sergeant now, so she has more authority than him.
Something – something like that.
That being said, it’s not like the
universe hasn’t tried to derail this monumentous occasion (yes Amy, monumentous is a word, I didn’t mean
monumental, I looked it up on the dictionary app – yes a reliable one, no, my
voice is not cracking like it does when I’m telling a lie –)
It’s not like there
haven’t already been some hardcore attempts at day-derailing, is all he’s saying, so maybe the rule
thing is just wishful thinking on Jake’s part. Thus far, from eight forty-two
this morning all the way until exactly two minutes ago when Charles burst into
tears over the remains of the wedding cake again, approximately five near-catastrophes
have occurred. At least five. If not more. Jake can’t remember if there
were more or less, so he makes a mental list, just to be sure.
"Actually, that's mine" Dick Grayson/ Wally West Hella gay :D
Music blared over the speakers that lined the perimeter of the room, the slurred and drunken voices muddied the tuneless bass shaking the bar. For once, Wally wished that his accelerated metabolism wasn’t a thing because he could definitely use a drink. Not that he usually wanted that because to be honest, the drinks here were absolutely disgusting. Dick had gone off a few minutes prior in search of a restroom, leaving Wally at the grimy, crowded bar to fend off the young men and women who tried to flatter him before he crushed the hopes of those who left after rejection or to strike fear into the hearts of those who didn’t understand what “no” meant. God, what the hell is taking Dick so long? Wally sighed as he ran his finger around the rim of the glass he was nursing while he waited when someone sat in the seat next to him. “Hey handsome, why’re you looking so down? Got ditched by a date? Must be an idiot to leave behind someone so… attractive.” Wally groaned internally, wondering why his beautiful genetics had cursed him so, before turning to face the offender in order to tell them that he was happily in a relationship and in no need of “cheering up”. And that they should probably leave before Dick came back because damn that man could be scary when he got jealous protective. “Before you say anything, I know I could make it worth your time.” Wally didn’t even have time to react (which he found kind of ironic because y’know, the whole superspeed thing and whatever) before their arm was snaking towards his waist. At least until a hand harshly slapped it away. “Actually, that’s mine, so if you wouldn’t mind backing the heck off, that’d be great. ‘Kay?” It wasn’t often that Dick sounded like that; he only used the sickeningly sweet voice when he was ready to break someone’s ribs and that would suck right now because Wally actually liked the song that was on right now. “Hey babe, no maiming people okay? We’re trying to NOT get arrested tonight.” “Okay Wal, just for you. But next time…” Dick didn’t even have to finish his sentence before the subject of his rage had bolted from the seat, leaving behind a full drink and an unpaid tab.
the problem with godot is that i don’t think he was necessarily intentionally written as a misogynist– the writers just. uncritically think he’s cool lmao. like they didn’t go in and look at his character and think “him being shitty to woman is an intentionally character flaw” they just wrote him and it happened on its own probably because the writers themselves are Like That.
Whew. Iggy with that knife. Just reminds me one weapon is called assassin daggers(10% chance to poison). Like studying to be Nocts advisor and cooking aside, he's an assassin incase anyone wants to harm Noct(How did he know Noct snuck out often if not watching). He KNOWS how to kill a person yet we'd never guess. Cooking comes in handy to kill by poison/allergies, knowing what knife is best for what/cutting techniques, and proper cleaning to hide it all. It's a good coverup for Iggy too.
I feel like I’m on a roll. Iggy’s family is a family of assassins. Iggys uncle didn’t want to be apart of the family business so he found respectable work at the Citidal. Iggy’s father died due to work and his mother, concerned about people coming after him, sent Iggy to his uncle while young. Iggy questions what happened when older and finds out his familys backgroud. So he tries to live a better life but still learns assassin skills(for Nocts sake and in memory) while not getting too deep.
Anon, you got me hella hyped rn for an AU that doesn’t even exist.
This has been sitting in my wips forever so here, have a snippet of Cole seeing the ruins of Solas’s village:
The memories there were old. Ancient. Faint whispers that mingled with the sound of their boots scraping the dirt and yet Cole could still hear them. Feel them.
There was fear. So much fear. Screaming. The paths were gone and the people were angry, looking for answers, looking for him. He’d belonged to them once- to the villagers here. He was one of them in a time long before the barrier that tore their world in two. The angry ones came looking for him. When they couldn’t find the one they wanted to hurt, they…
Cole closed his eyes, trying to remember what Solas had taught him. Breathe. Remember. You are here now, not then, you cannot help their pain. Cole could still feel the heat of the flames, hear the sounds of running, fighting, pleading. The elves who lived there were not responsible for what the Dread Wolf took from them. The angry ones knew that, but they didn’t care. They wanted someone to punish. They wanted someone to hurt.
He could also feel Solas there- an echo of a more recent time, fresh and sharp. He’d been lost, confused, trying to make sense of this world and his feet had led him home.
Solas wept when he saw what dreams awaited him here. Cole could see his friend as though he were with them now - alone and curled in on himself, trying to be something small again.
I feel like people who don’t get touken blame too much Ishida and his “bad writing”, but I strongly believe the blame is on them for not paying attention to Touka and Kaneki through the whole damn manga istg, since the beginning of Tokyo Ghoul we have this huge character and relationship development between the 2 of them, the evidence is right there and those people chose to ignore it completely lol so no, it isn’t Ishida’s fault or “bad writing”, it’s yours. It’s right thereeeee, all the development, lol if you’re the one reading the manga wrong then blame your own damn self, not the mangaka.
Did you watch the legend of Korra? And did you think it was good?
I did! But… only like the first season and maybe half of season 2?
I… I dunno what it was about tlok, but I didn’t like it as much as atla? I really really wanted to, I had high expectations for it!! And season 1 was amazinggg, but I got bored real fast in the middle of watching season 2?
Jay Park Reaction: When his S/O doesn’t want to cuddle after a small fight
He’d pout as soon as you gently pushed away his hands that were ready to wrap around your waist. He’d be a litte irritated you made such a big fuss out of a small fight, but still would give you space, understanding that you could still be angry. Giving you a small pout Jay would stand up from the couch and walk towards the door. He’d leave the living room,to let you calm down but, before exiting he’d turn around and say something like “Whenever you want, I’ll be here..Ready to cuddle”
Celebrating today when it’s Arrow Season Finale (for which I Am NOT READY!!) I thought I could post the first chapter of my new fic UNDISCLOSED DESIRES, but if I do that, you will have to wait a bit for the rest of the chapters. So my question is…
Do you want me to post the 1st chapter today and wait a while longer for the rest or you rather wait and read it with weekly updates from start to finish?
He’s been sitting on the front step for over an hour now, and Qui-Gon finds himself not entirely sure why.
Most of what Obi-Wan has done in these last weeks before leaving has made sense, if only to those who know him well. Qui-Gon has poked his head in on the tidying of his room, on the neat stacking and filing and labeling of schoolwork left for some unknown future purpose or nostalgia; he has helped sort through old clothes for donation (or burning, Obi-Wan had occasionally said, with a wry grin which Qui-Gon only sometimes knew the meaning behind, but he tended to suspect it had to do with Anakin); he has offered the use of the luggage he’s kept tucked away in his own closet, battered and covered in stickered memories, and been gently turned down, told that Obi-Wan intended to earn some of his own rather than take someone else’s with him.
There’s an hour, still, before the car is due to pick him up to go to the train, and it’s starting to get hot with late August heat, but Obi-Wan is already outside. Has been, for a while, and Qui-Gon, watching the front walk from the kitchen with his cooling tea in hand, cannot figure it out.
Anakin is hiding somewhere, he knows, both seeking attention with and ashamed of his tears, when he finally steps sideways out of the screen door and settles down beside his older son and his (new, not-yet-battered) suitcase. His extraordinary, accomplished, wise old irritating soul of a son, his mind adds, and not for the first time he needs a moment to beat down the sudden intake of breath that threatens to make his pride spill over into sorrow.
“Comfortable?” he asks, eventually.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. He’s staring calmly down towards the road, his hands interlocked around his kneecaps. “You didn’t need to come out here.”
“I wanted to.” A pause. “Would you preferred it if I waited inside?”
“No,” Obi-Wan says, slower, and then, skinny and overstretched and big-toothed, he looks sideways briefly, and grins. “Just - baby steps.”
“What, sitting on the stoop?” Qui-Gon asks, and suddenly it’s almost funny, and he’s thinking of toddling, fumbling feet on his front lawn in the earlier days of summer. “You’ll have no trouble going. You never have.”
“True,” Obi-Wan nodded. “It’s odd that this time feels different. Because it is, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps. But it doesn’t have to be.” He’s thinking, unbidden, of how much it won’t be; of how Obi-Wan has been prepared for this all his life, of his own accord and probably despite Qui-Gon rather than because of him. “You’ll figure it out, youngling.”
“Hm,” Obi-Wan says, and his fingers slip a little, turn a little less white from pressure as he leans slightly sideways, his hair, finally growing out just beyond his ears, catching the sun. “Thanks, dad.”
“You’re very welcome,” Qui-Gon says, and means it. “Have you said goodbye to Anakin?”
“I tried,” Obi-Wan says, on the end of a fond chuckle. “I think we both need our space.”
“Well, I’d better see to him, then,” Qui-Gon sighs, and levers himself up from the brick with only a slight tinge of regret. “You’re alright out here?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Qui-Gon goes back inside not entirely sure whether he will be going out again when the car full of Fisto and Vos and all of their chaos arrives to take Obi-Wan with them into the unknown. He knows beyond a doubt, however, that he won’t worry.
His son is, after all, in the most capable of hands - his own.