First it was drama all over the internet and now no matter where I look I can’t stop seeing really awful things, depressing stories, disgusting news, etc. I’m trying to be positive, but it’s awfully hard. Anyone have any good news to share?

drunk | finn shelby

24 - “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

41 - “Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!!!”

61 - “Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”

67 - “You’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

finn gets drunk and causes a mess which frustrates the reader

can request here . these prompts are from this list

Originally posted by finnshelby1920s

The sound of the door slamming woke you up, you grabbed your gun from the draw and stood up before hearing the sound of Finn cursing you. You placed the gun back in the draw and walked downstairs. Sighing when you saw the mess that of both the floor and Finn.  

It had become a weekly routine for Finn to come stumbling in at stupid times in the morning covered in blood and stinking of booze. The amount of cleaning you did on a Sunday morning was ridiculous.  

“You’re bleeding all over my carpet.” You shouted as you grabbed him and pushed him  into the downstairs bathroom. “Have you been fighting again?”  

“Needed to prove Arthur wrong.” He slurred. “Don’t be angry with me. Look, I’m home and I’m alive.”

“I don’t give a shit Finn.” You mumbled. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”  

You grabbed a wet cloth and pressed it up against his lip that was badly swollen. Finn sat there watching and smiling at you through half closed eyes.  

“How much have you had to drink?” You asked.  

“Too much.” He paused, seeing your angry face. “I mean, not a lot.”  

“Whatever you say Finn.” Deep down you found drunk Finn amusing but something about him coming home and bleeding all over your floor didn’t quite work with you.  

You moved the cloth away from his lip and cleared the rest of his face. Once you’d finished you slightly pushed him, only enough to make him sway backwards.  

“I’m sorry.” He tried to lean forward to give you a hug but when you pulled away, a pout formed on his face. “I said I’m sorry.”  

“Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass.” You snapped.  

“Well, sometimes a little angry.” He said sarcastically.  

“What do you expect Finn? You come back in at 6am, bleed all over my carpet, make me think that I’m about to get kidnapped and then you act as if nothing has happened.” You wasn’t that angry with him, but you’d only been awake fifteen minutes and you were feeling snappy. You’d both apologise to each other later in the day when you were in a better mood and Finn had sobered up.  

“Cani get a drink?” He asked, not replying back to your earlier comments.  

“Of course.” You moved out-of-the-way so he could get to the kitchen. You heard the sound of glasses but no running water which confused you. You dismissed it though thinking that Finn may have possibly passed out like he usually did and forgot about his drink.  

You walked back into the kitchen and shook your head, officially giving up with Finn.  

“Why are you looking at me like that? It’s water.”  

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you are not having vodka.” You said sternly as you grabbed the glass from his hand. “Here.” You mumbled as you passed him a fresh glass of water.  

“Spoilsport.” He groaned. “Why are you being so mardy? I’m alright aren’t I?”  

“Yeah, this time but what about next week? Or the week after?” You slammed the vodka back in the cupboard and turned around. “I’m just worried.”  

He sighed and stood up, wrapping his arms around your waist which you accepted this time. “Don’t worry about me darling, I’m always okay and anyway, I’m back home safe in your arms.”  

“Don’t be so cringe.” You said, placing your around his neck. “Welcome back, now fucking help me.”  

“Help you with what?” He groaned, stomping his feet like a six-year-old.  

“Clean up your blood – “ You stood yourself before shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter. Go to bed and we can talk when you’re sober.”  

“Do I get a goodnight kiss?” He asked.  

“With your breath smelling like booze, cigarettes and also bruised, nope.” You teased. “Maybe in a few hours when you’ve slept and washed up.” You told him, emphasising on the ‘you’ve slept’, hoping it would make him hurry to bed so you could clean the house up.  

“Alright I’m going.” He murmured as he attempted to walk up the stairs. “Just remember, I love you.”  

“I love you too.” You told him as you watched him fall when he got to the top. Sometimes you wondered why.  

I finally have wi-fi set up in my flat and it’s gloriously fast.

Now I can invite you all over to my housewarming, BYOB and sleep where there’s floor space.

pilawforhire  asked:

//Someone drops by and leaves a baby in your room, on your pillow. What do you do? You’ve wasted too much time thinking. Now it’s crying and wailing and bawling and screeching. What do you do? If you wasted even more time thinking, too bad, it’s puking all over your sheets now, and while it’s at it, it poops and pees and it overflows from the diaper. What do you do?

   This… was a problem.

    This was actually more than a problem. It was plain troublesome. 

    Year of working undercover or in the dark had prepared the contractor for plenty of situations. On the spot, he could crank out 200 possibilities of anything with up to 50 potential plans to boot. Not a lot could get past him if he didn’t want it to, which was what made this situation all the more problematic.

    Paranoia licked up his spine, leaving drops of cold sweat to gather at his temple. He had just come out from the bathroom, finished with a shower, and was in the middle of towel drying his unruly hair when he saw the infant on the bed. His bed.

    An infant. In his bed

    The worst of it began a second later when the baby began bawling like the end of the world, snot rattling cries hiccuping so loudly from that small form. He was stunned to stillness, but just as quickly Shikamaru was already moving forward towards the small bundle as they cried and cried. He wasn’t terrible with children; he knew how kids worked… for the most part, but that didn’t mean he liked them. Or they liked him, for that matter. A baby was different.

    He hesitated in picking them up. Decades of blood on his hands and it was such a ludicrous thought that it even came up, but the fact of the matter was, the child was pure while he was not. Was this some sick joke? He didn’t even have time to check if there was something rigged in the room or on the child for that matter before he finally reached forward to pick up them up. Something in his heart swelled, a strange emotion that he sought to clamp down. This was so fucking troublesome. He needed help. He was not made to do this. There was no way-

    As he gently rocked the child, he was rapidly running through various Rooms of ideas and solutions. Best one. Where was it?

1. Police department. That was the obvious choice but it was 1 in the morning and there was no way he was waiting until the morning. Officers will no doubt ask questions. It would have to be done in the dead of night. What was this, every other orphan movie where the baby got dropped off with the police? Who was going to be asking questions? No thanks.

2. Fire department. Less known tactic, but also probable. Unfortunately, the closest one was 30 minutes away and there was no way he was driving down the streets in his T5 Blackie with a baby strapped to the back of it.

3. Literally drop them onto someone else’s doorstep. Was he an idiot? No.

4. Call someone. 

    That thought alone stopped him short and he had to laugh. Call who? For all the numbers he retained, they weren’t numbers he would think to reach out to. 

  • There was the young, cocky agent who held more names in one hand and sometimes gave him a migraine. Quick on his feet and with his mouth, but a pain sometimes.
  • An older man whose demeanor was calm, but his hands hinted otherwise. He did not know that man well enough and didn’t believe this was a good way to further that… acquaintanceship or whatever it was they had.
  • His specialist also came to mind, but he didn’t really want to burden the man any more than he already was. The rapport he was building with him was starting to become a good one, in spite of his erratic visits and wry conversation.
  • A previous employer whose eyes flashed into his mind faster than he preferred. With a blink, he moved on. 
  • An equally busy man who might have a better idea on what to do comparatively, but it was likely that he was busier than he was at the moment.
  • Last but not least but the troublesome man with whom the contractor had the joy of seeing not once or twice, but more than that. Cradling the line between legal and questionable, but just the same, he didn’t feel comfortable in having to ask the man. But then again, he was the best choice in this scenario. Legal enough to help, but just enough that he wouldn’t be asking unnecessary questions. Or so he hoped.

    Shifting the infant to be cradled in one arm, Shikamaru sought his phone resting on the nightstand and scrolled through the small list of numbers. He decided to forgo a text and went straight to dial the name he chose in his contacts. 

    “Law, I need you,” he growled through grit teeth once he heard the line pick up, voice strained more than anything else. “Get here now. And bring some milk formula. The address is…”

Aaaaaand the hiatus is over! Thank you guys so much for all your kind messages! Now, it will still be Tord’s birthday for a bit, as time froze in this universe. So, feel free to continue the birthday shenanigans! Thank you guys for your patience and kindness. It means a lot to the both of us. ~Mod Silver



Because I love this child and he needs more love, especially his relationship with Yuuri ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

While Phichit is an incredibly friendly lovable cinnamon roll, he won’t stand for anything threatening his best friend Yuuri, even if the threat happens to be someone Yuuri loves. Yuuri clearly adores the Victor he knows now (just as much as he idolized the distant figure in the past), but Phichit won’t forget how much Victor hurt Yuuri in the past, unintentional or not.

I headcanon that on top of being a skilled figure skater, Phichit is an academic genius who skipped grades and entered college in Detroit super early where he met Yuuri, which explains their long acquaintance despite the age difference. He is very, VERY protective of Yuuri. I’ll put up a more detailed headcanon post later (and if there’s interest, possibly prequel comic of pre-YOI anime Detroit college days).

Also, extra:


Sochi Banquet

I love how tentatively Viktor approached Yuuri during the Sochi banquet. Look at how many shots it took for this boy to get to Yuuri.

I find this to be especially precious given how Viktor already got rejected by Yuuri earlier that evening.

For all of his being a celebrity, Viktor does not strike me as the kind of person who can easily brush off another person’s dislike of him. Hell, he made a career out of pleasing everyone, and while I don’t think he would cry over another person’s opinion of him, neither does he seem like someone who could just easily dismiss it or not be hurt. I mean look at this face:

His reservations about approaching the fascinating Japanese boy were therefore perfectly understandable. We can even clearly see that he kept his distance for a bit at first.

But like a moth to a flame,

this precious boy

can’t seem to help himself.

And for a while it doesn’t seem like Yuuri even noticed him there?

Oh, but when he did…

It became such an unforgettable night.

Lmao, for Viktor anyway.

Poor Vitya.

  • Jess: Why did you drop out of Yale?!
  • Rory: *goes back to Yale*
  • Jess: You should write a book!
  • Rory: *starts writing immediately*
  • Me: *incoherent sobbing*

was doing sketch requests on mah twitter & @mrcutio asked for ‘bahorel doing a sick kickflip’ and then this…. turned into Les Amis: Primary School Origins

i don’t know anything about kickflips and neither does bahorel, luckily feuilly doesnt seem to mind 


Fired! After years… years of hard work. And ass kissing. Oh God, I kissed so many different kinds of asses.