it's like a really bad habit

10

MEMES

….

I have only excuses for being gone.

6

You’re sarcastic and you like to mock others, and hate seafood, you have bad sleeping habits. You’re well-read and have an extensive intellect, but you’re completely unorganized! You’re moody and even though you seem neurotic, you’re actually really sloppy! You like your soup scalding, and if I mess up the salt content even a little, you get super pissy! And last night, you kicked me out of bed three times in your sleep!

[old version: x]

anonymous asked:

hello i’m having a shitty day could u provide some taakitz headcanons to cheer me up

shit dude you sent this while i was sleeping but hmmmm

- taako and kravitz’s wedding is the most extra thing in the entire fucking planar system and taako is a complete bridezilla about it. also he wears the glitziest dress you’ve ever seen in your life, and also a wizard hat. its amazing. 

- i dont think kravitz is really in the habit of sleeping, but taako is VERY much in the habit of sleeping, and so kravitz starts sleeping again. kravitz doesn’t learn that taako gets night terrors until like 6 months after they start dating cause taako never mentions it and it doesnt happen if kravitz is around. 

- for the first year they dated kravitz carried around those pocket handwarmers cause he was self conscious about his hands being Too Cold and when Taako realized, Taako laughed at him but also felt a lil bad and was like “you know i was just fucking with you about the coldness, right? i mean, you’re fine, i like you the way you are” 

- when he’s not at Work and wearing a Suit kravitz dresses like a halfassedly goth-emo teenager and taako, to his horror, finds it charming. 

- neither taako or krav is really used to dating another person and getting to know each other is this series of surprise after surprise, where they’re like “shit…….i like this dude? i like this dude?! what the fuck! what the fuck!!!” 

- taako steals kravitz’s shirts. that’s not really a boyfriend thing though he steals everyones clothing. 

- kravitz is like, constantly worried about taako Dying cause the boy! died! so! many! times! 

- kravitz gets a reaper contract for taako without asking him, like, two months into the relationship, because taako keeps getting into these fucking deadly situations and if taako offs it kravitz wants taako to stick around. Taako learns about this like, six months in, and then they have a conversation about boundaries but also its really nice that he cares about him? 

inimitablebiscuit  asked:

Erm Flintwood please if you're still doing 150. * Winning smile *

pairing: marcus flint x oliver wood

setting: modern, non-magical, soulmates-at-first-touch au

word count: 1394


Marcus punches his soulmate in the face the first time they meet.

Wait.

No.  

It’s worse than that.

Marcus punches his soulmate in the face the first time they meet, the flats of his knuckles crunching against the guy’s jaw, hard enough to draw blood and leave a mark and hurt—and then there’s a strange fluttering sensation erupting in the pit of Marcus’s stomach, a comforting, calming warmth suffusing the blood in his veins and the marrow in his bones and it’s exactly like how they’d described it in Health class, the awareness—the connection—slotting into place so seamlessly that he’s astonished he’d never noticed something missing before now.  

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus blurts out. “Oh—fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Marcus’s soulmate—who’s tall and lean and has the prettiest brown eyes, what the shit—is just sprawled out on the dirty arena floor, blinking and blinking and prodding gingerly at the bruise that’s already beginning to blossom—

“No,” the guy says firmly. “This isn’t happening.”

“Fuck you,” Marcus immediately snaps. “I rejected you first.”

The guy snorts, kind of irritatingly sarcastic, before grimacing. His emotions, so far as Marcus can tell, are all over the place; shock and dismay and frustration and—very, very deeply—a flickering, almost unwilling tremor of interest.  

“It wouldn’t work, anyway,” the guy goes on, more loudly. “You have terrible opinions about hockey.”

“Fuck you,” Marcus snaps again. “You’re the one in the shitty jersey.”

“He’s won three Cups.”

“Yeah, and he was a fucking healthy scratch for two of them,” Marcus retorts. “Try again.”

“Hockey is a team sport,” the guy says hotly. “It isn't—it isn’t about individual accomplishments.”

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Sure, whatever,” he drawls, “but your shitty jersey is still shitty.”

The guy’s mouth falls open, and Marcus can feel the sour note of his indignation—the jagged spike of his outrage—as clearly as if it were his own. “Jesus fucking Christ,” the guy sputters, shaking his head like he’s got a nervous tic. “What are you so—what are you so angry about?”

Marcus raises his eyebrows. “Um,” he says slowly, because, really, what the shit, “I’m not angry. I’m confused.”

“No.” The guy frowns. “You’re definitely angry. I feel it, like—” He gestures vaguely to his chest and upper abdomen. “Right there. Like heartburn.”

Marcus’s nostrils flare, and he scratches viciously at the side of his neck to distract himself from the fact that this complete fucking stranger with boy band hair and, and Bambi eyes is apparently better at deciphering Marcus’s emotions than Marcus is.  

“Oh, hell,” the guy sighs, “now you're—embarrassed, don’t be like that, I didn’t mean to—hey, come on, where are you—where are you going? You can’t just—hey! Come back!”

Marcus does not come back.

And the ensuing wave of regret that pulses through Marcus’s sternum is lukewarm and salty and depressingly difficult to pinpoint the origins of.

It’s not his, he thinks stubbornly.

Probably.


Marcus lasts two and a half days before the persistent invisible tugging at his gut becomes too annoying to bear.

He follows it.

He follows it to a bench in Riverside Park that’s near where the gross little fish and chips stand is, and the scent of old frying oil undercut by whatever the fuck is currently decomposing in the Hudson is—less nauseating than it arguably fucking should be, seriously, what the shit.

But—

His soulmate, his soulmate, is sitting with his legs spread obnoxiously wide, wrists crossed and hands dangling in his lap, squinting intently up at the clouds like he’s waiting for them to tell him what to do next. It’s endearing. Maybe. Marcus’s stomach is in knots—a tangled mess of dread and unease and, abruptly, relief.

“Oh,” the guy says, quirking his lips into something that Marcus chooses to generously describe as a smile. The bruise on the guy’s jaw is a lurid, chalky looking violet, partially obscured by the auburn of his stubble. “You found me.”

“Of course I fucking found you,” Marcus says, dropping down next to him. Their knees brush, just for a moment, and it’s like—lightning, bright and fierce and sizzling, coiling around the base of his spine. “There’s been this—this buzzing, in the back of my head—”

“Yeah,” the guy interjects glumly. “I know. I would've—if you hadn’t. I would’ve tried to find you.” He pauses. “I missed you, I guess, which is—weird.”

Marcus scowls down at the sidewalk. There’s a crack in the cement, and it’s dirty, gritty with loose gravel around the edges, splintering off into a dozen hairline fractures before disappearing into the grass. He can feel his own surprise at the guy’s admission, and it’s so—uncomfortable, knowing that there’s nothing he can hide behind. Making himself smaller, holding himself still; they’re not antidotes for anything, not anymore, and this guy—his soulmate—he’s got a rabbit-fast heartbeat and an intimidatingly focused way of feeling things. Marcus wonders how he’s supposed to get used to that.  

“I’m Marcus,” he eventually offers, voice emerging gruffer than he’d have liked. “My name, I mean. It's—Marcus.”

The guy turns, slightly, to look over at Marcus. “Oliver. I’m Oliver.” He hesitates before he goes on, sounding nonplussed, “I still can’t believe you fucking hit me. Over a jersey.”

Marcus huffs. “It’s a really shitty jersey.”

Oliver grins, short and sweet and self-deprecating, before nudging at Marcus’s ribs with the point of his elbow. “I’ve, uh. I’ve been told I’ve got kind of a…bad habit of, of taking things too seriously.” His mouth twists, and the stabbing ache of some long-ago insult, or argument; it lances through the pads of Marcus’s fingers, stinging and sharp. “Obsessive. That’s what—I dunno. That’s what I’ve been told. I can be…obsessive. About—whatever.”

“Obsessive,” Marcus repeats, shaking out his hand. “That’s your—one big fault. Enthusiasm.”

Oliver shrugs, easy and casual, like it doesn’t matter, like Marcus can’t literally feel the crippling uncertainty—the tension, swampy and thick—weighing down his limbs. “Enthusiasm is…too nice of a word for it, I think.”

“Bullshit,” Marcus hears himself say, with absolutely zero fucking direction from his brain, or his conscience, or his admittedly flimsy sense of self-preservation. “Enthusiasm is the perfect fucking word for it.”

Oliver startles, slightly, eyes widening a fraction. There’s a coolly refreshing burst of—happiness, maybe; gratitude, definitely—coating the back of Marcus’s tongue. Citrus. Summer. Chlorine and coconut. It’s fucking nice.

“Oh. Um. Okay,” Oliver says, haltingly. “Thanks.”

A tentative silence descends between them on the bench. Marcus drums his fingers against the inseam of his jeans, jiggling his foot and glaring at a rotting spear of tree bark and swallowing around a metallic-tasting lump in his throat that he instinctively wants to label curiosity.  

“Sorry,” Marcus grunts, slouching forward. “About the—hitting you. I just—sorry. I was angry. I get angry.”

Oliver stares at him, bottom lip clutched between his teeth, and there’s a swirl of something taking root in his lungs, something chewy and rich, like caramel, so that every breath he takes in is like burnt brown sugar crystallizing against the roof of his mouth, but then there’s more, too, a champagne bubble pop of amusement, and—

“It’s alright,” Oliver says wryly. “I heard I was wearing a pretty shitty jersey.”

Marcus snorts, and then groans, and then laughs, almost despite himself, before confessing, as quietly as he can manage—  

“Yeah, I’m…not really sorry, anyway.”


it’s 5am and i hope i don’t make this a bad habit

i was talking with my new bud and uhh wow so here’s some hcs about eddies first kiss (warning it’s Reddie Y’all)

- eddie is in his senior year of hs and like. he doesn’t ever really think about dating that much? (maybe this one person ONCE in middle school but he gets way too embarrassed even thinking about it) and besides!! he loves his friends, and he always thought that was enough?

- and he still does, it’s just beginning to bother him when he sees everyone (especially his friends!) pushing him into getting a date (even if they don’t really mean to push)

- richie is the person who messes around and jokes about it the most, pinching at his sides and always asking when eddie was going to ‘fall in love’

- (he’s already fallen in love with all of the other losers, he doesn’t need to love anyone else, he’s said this countless times! but he just gets the same ‘awww’s and grins no matter which loser he directs it towards, like maybe they don’t really believe him)

- but one day richie just gives him the cheesiest grin he’s ever seen and bumps his side with too much force, saying maybe a bit too loudly, ‘i know you couldn’t have fucked anyone- but come on, i bet you haven’t even kissed anyone either, eddie. maybe you’ll learn to love outside of the lucky seven if you finally just put on your big boy breeches and kiss someone!’

- and that just. rubbed eddie the Wrong Way? like he was saying his platonic love with the losers would never be enough? like maybe he was saying eddie wouldn’t really be grown up until he found someone to kiss, and someone ELSE to love, and he got defensive, raising his hands up with a trademarked grimace

- 'kissing is gross, richie, and-’

- 'eddie, edster, you’re 18-’

- 'yeah! well! im sure you’ve heard of mono, influenza, the plague-’ and he was sure getting tired of being interrupted, even if he sounded ‘ridiculous’

- 'eddie really, the plague?’

- 'YES! YES, RICHIE, THE PLAGUE. and besides, there is no one i would even want to kiss, so just shut your own damn infested mouth already.’

- and then richie almost dies laughing, but drops the subject near immediately- alleviating the situation by grabbing eddie by his arm and squeezing, leading him and talking about the dinner plans they had made with the others for tonight- in the same, little place they could at least all agree on

- eddie is still a little tense but he just knows richie was messing with him, so he falls back into the conversation, letting himself be led to the lunchroom with only a huff in protest

- but now suddenly it’s around 630pm?

- and the losers all have met up at the run down italian restaurant, having a hoot, sitting snug on a wrapped, big booth, with eddie sandwiched in between mike and richie- he’s having a good time, they all are

- and of course, richie, being richie, tried to lady and tramp it with eddie, only to be shoved away and rejected (as he was being eddie)-

- and richies knee jerk reaction is to roll his eyes, saying out loud that eddie is 'no fun’ that he 'would never make it to big screen productions’ if he ‘wouldn’t even have his first kiss! i mean has eddie even heard of a casting couch?’

- and eddie gets so flustered at the mention of not being kissed yet that he just freezes, and eddie knows deep down that the losers don’t care, that they love him just as much he loves them, and wouldn’t think any less of him for it but- but the laugh that it gets out of them makes him feel awful. at least mike managed to sense eddie was tense and was able to 'beep’ richie before he could continue to ramble on.

- the night went swimmingly afterwards, but eddie got a little bit colder after that, only finally warming back up at the end, laughing more comfortably with the others and melting into both richies and mikes sides (more mikes than richies).

- they all pay and part their ways after that, with hugs and some goofs- but richie walks straight to eddie and just!! offers to walk home with him, even though it’s probably more convenient for richie to walk with bill

- richie just felt like he really upset eddie, and had an idea on how to make it better!

- so when they finally get to eddies house, after more jokes and silence (that at times felt comfortable, but this one felt a little tense?), richie follows him up to his bedroom and paces around a bit, before eddie glares and shushes at him, pointing downstairs (to where he knows his mother rests)

- 'stop, you goddamn stampede of a string bean. if you want to stay and hang out just sit down, and read a comic book or som-’

- 'eds, let me ask you something.’

- and there’s a pause, and eddie begins to pick at the dirt underneath his fingernails, and then the pause is too long, and eddie holds his hands out, exasperated (and a little nervous)

- 'christ- im going gray over here, richie-’

- 'you love us, the gang, right? i mean of course you obviously love me, i’m your favorite- but you do love us? what if, and i’m a genius so tell me when you’re not following anymore, one of us kissed you? so you’re not so flustered about it anymore- you trust us enough, and maybe it will give you a little boost of confidence! we are all incredibly hot, too, which is just an added bonus.’

- and now eddie is silent, and he’s stopped picking at his nails, and richie begins to laugh, and it’s painfully nervous, but he just doesn’t know how to stop-

- 'i knew it was a master plan but jesus fuck, i didn’t know it was that stunning! come on, eddie, whaddya say?’ he stopped before quickly adding, 'if you want to pretend like this never happened let me know edster- and ill strut my ass out of here so quick even your mother won’t notice, and she’s always one to notice my sweet ass whenever i’m in the function.’ finger guns seemed like the only appropriate way to end that sentence, but richie could already feel himself dying inside, just a little bit

- but then eddie finally mumbles out 'you want me to kiss one of our friends?’ and it only sounds a lttle off

- 'i mean, i guess- and even if you wanted to kiss me, that would be fine! listen, eddie, i’m an expert. just say the words, i’m all lips, i got you, we got you.’

- and for being so forward eddie can hear how nervous richie is in his voice, but eddie? himself? could feel his heart beating out of his chest. and he didn’t really know why

- so. he just says okay, he nods, and he’s shaking and he still just- he doesn’t know why. but now richie looks visibly more relaxed, and he lets out such a heavy sigh eddie almost feels himself getting knocked back.

- richie sits on the bed and then pats the space beside him, and eddie sinks down into his own sheets before turning towards richie and crossing his legs, fisting the fabric of his shorts

- richie just wants eddie to relax because! he swears to eddie, he’s in good company! richie has kissed dozens of people before (he doesn’t say that though, he’d get an earful about germs), and he knows just how to make eddie feel right, and seeing eddie in front of him likes this makes him want eddie to feel loved- and woah, he doesn’t know where that’s coming from, but he doesn’t think about it too much now. and now, maybe too fast for eddie, richie turns to face eddie himself, his own legs crossed, and his hands now holding eddies jaw like he was made out of glass

- 'eddie tell me when this is enough, when we have done enough.’

- and eddie has been so quiet, and it makes richie a little hesitant, but he does nod in richies grip-

- right before richie presses the softest kiss to eddies mouth, and it’s a dry one but richie instantly feels his heart go weak at the sigh eddie makes, one he must of been holding in

- richie keeps on kissing at eddies lax lip, sometimes giving a kiss to his cheek, something familiar, rubbing their noses together just barely, softly, before he goes back to kissing him

- it’s one of the gentlest kisses richie has ever had??? and he half expects eddie not to kiss back, do anything back at all, but then eddies hands are on richies knees, hooked near his thighs, and richie has to pull away and actually look at eddie, see if anything was wrong, because?? maybe this was his way of telling him to stop?

- but eddies eyes were closed, and his mouth was only a little red, but his cheeks were vibrant, and now warm under richies thumbs and-

- richie couldn’t help but go back in- he makes the kiss a little wetter, and eddie seems a little bit confused on what he was supposed to do, still, but richie just does his best to show eddie how- using that big mouth of his for something other than long strings of words-

- and words?? weren’t really needed at this point, as the boys began to add more hands and tongues and even teeth and christ when richie started kissing down eddies neck eddie made such a heavenly gasp out of his name- 'richie, please’- that richie couldn’t stop himself before leaving a bright red mark, right under eddies ear, the keen his got in response making him want to kiss eddie, again and again and again and again-

- it was overwhelming

- but after a kiss to the mark and a few more pecks richie pulled away and got another good look at eddie and wow- that was a mistake, because if the way eddie looked before made richie need to kiss him again, the way eddie looked now made richie want to instantly give him the world

- and fuck if he knew why

- eddies lips were wet and this time they were actually swollen, his eyes had opened but they were so, so lidded, his pupils were blown wide, and his eyelashes fluttering with the few stuttering breaths he took and richie-

- richie had to stand up, now, he should probably leave- but christ he didn’t know how or when it happened but he had a lap full of eddie, who was now slumping himself against richie and tucking his head on his shoulder, and he could hear the shaky sighs that came out of eddie before he heard a soft mumble

- 'thanks.’

- and with that eddie climbs out of richies lap, adjusting his shirt looking anywhere, everywhere but the boy beside him

- richie can deal with that, but he was still just so shocked, at himself, at eddie, so he quickly responds with a 'no problem, happy to do it, make sure you rate your experience in the guestbook upfront- uhh, christ, come do it again, whenever you’re in the area.’ and he has to force himself to stop talking, biting on his tongue-

- but eddie let’s out a laugh, something loud and genuine and richie still hasn’t resolved this, hasn’t resolved anything, but when eddie laughs he feels the haze clear and everything feels so light in that moment.

- eddie is just surprised that richie might’ve been right about something- that kissing can help you learn that you love someone (a little bit more than he had previously thought)

srry if thhis is bad i need sleep

SnapChat Mishaps -Pt 2

 { I didn’t plan on writing a second part to any of the one shots but this one seems to be one of the favorites so I figured I’d turn it into a mini series. Please message me or comment or something to let me know if I should keep going with it ! Otherwise i might not ,xoxoxo}

Snapchat Mishaps One shot       { Master List}


    WHY?! why would Bucky come to my room? did he think this was a serious invitation?! Fuck.  Rapid knocks on your door startle you out of your thoughts, making your body freeze with panic. Maybe if I don’t answer-

“ Doll, I know youre in there.” Damn It.  You quickly roll off your bed to slid your robe over your bare body . You slowly open your door, and he is right there . His cheeks are slightly flushed, and his eyes are lust blown, the usual blue almost fully over taken with black. Fuck .

“Is there something you need Barnes?” you ask , crossing your arms over your chest as you speak .

Originally posted by howifeelwhenchrisevans

“ Oh I think you know the answer to that Doll.” his voice is dripping with want, theres no denying that.  You raise an eyebrow at him, a dirty smirk spreading across your face. I’m so going to have fun with this. 

Bucky is a little shit on a daily basis , making fun of you ,  annoying the shit of you constantly & then the next second he’s a flirty little jackass. Who thinks like that ? Let me just annoy this shit out of this girl,  then try to flirt my way into her pants . What a fucking ass.

“ Arent you going to invite me in ?” he asks when you don’t answer him .

“ No , I’m not. “you simply answer, making his eyes widen as you add ,” The snaps weren’t an invitation Barnes, and frankly, I don’t think  you’ve earned the right to come in just yet. So no , I’m not inviting in your room . But you know what I am going to do?“ you ask, stepping closer to him , you slowly run your hands up his chest,

” I’m going to go back in my room, drop this robe , and fuck myself . Over and over again . And you know what? Maybe , just maybe, ill think of you while I do it. Maybe ill imagine your hands, running down my body , rolling my nipples between your metal fingers, or maybe ill think about what it would feel like having your fingers fucking my tight, wet pussy . Mmm, ill probably imagine how good it would feel to ride your- “

 ” jesus Christ Y/n.“ Bucky half moans, half growls out . You glide one of your hands down his body , until it lands over his hard bulge  .Holy Fucking Hell .

” Good night Bucky.“ you lean up, gently kissing his cheek  .  He doesn’t move as you step back into your room ,his eyes never leaving you . 

Originally posted by fadedmapdots

Before closing your door, you drop your robe, watching as his eyes drink in the sight of your bare body . He releases another growl, sending a new shock of heat straight to your core. You send him a wink before closing the door. You know it was a dick move to be that much of a tease, but God, was it fucking worth it to see the look on his face .

 You crawl back into your bed, immediately opening your snap, Time for the real fun.

  The First Snap : you start recording as you move your free hand to your chest, tugging and rolling your hard nipples between your fingers , letting out breathy moans as you do .  When the video cuts, you send it Bucky without hesitation.

 The Second. : You don’t wait, and start recording the next snap, your hand moving down to your clit, rubbing tight, hard circles around it . you don’t hold in the moans, letting them fall from your lips  . Send.

The Last One: you wait a couple minutes, building yourself up until youre near your finish . When you feel the knot in you tighten , you start the snap . You angle the camera so your mouth , and bare chest are in view as you plunge your fingers in and out of your pussy . You don’t want to show him every part of you , well not yet atleast. The sounds from your movements are obscene , and very audible ,  right as the video is about to end, you finish , Buckys name escaping your lips in moan as you cum all over your fingers. You can see your body arching, as you come undone, and its oddly satisfying when you rewatch it before you send it.  Happy with the outcome, you send to it Bucky . And wait for his response

 He didn’t reply for a few minutes, & it drove you insane. When your notifications finally went off your pulse picked up . you let out a deep breath as you open his video . It was of him, fucking himself with his hand, and moaning your name as he finishs, his cum shooting out over his chest .  They way he moans your name ignites a new fire in you  .  As torturous as this is for him, its just as bad for you now; and you didn’t plan on that. Sure, you always thought he was attractive, but his annoying  habits were difficult to ignore.  You didn’t think watching him do that to himself, would turn you on so much .  I really need to think of the outcomes of things before I do shit like this.


Its been a week, and everyday , you and Bucky would send dirty snaps back and forth . You’ve never been so sexually frustrated in your life, even when you get yourself off , its not enough  . You cant get the image of Bucky fucking you out of your head, and its all you want now . But is that a step you really want to take? Once its done , theres no going back .  I have to work with him, see him everyday , can I do that if I give in? If I let him fuck me, if I let him do whatever he wants to me? Will I be able to look him in the eyes without feeling awkward?  The flirting was limited only to snaps, besides his normal everyday flirting.  Its clear neither of you wanted to let people in on what game the two of you are playing. 

Its finally your day off, which means you sleep in until noon . When you finally wake up, you drag yourself out of your room , deciding against pants . When you walk into the kitchen , you aren’t surprised that its empty, everyone always does their own things in the afternoon, whether its training, a mission or just relaxing.  

 Youre facing the coffee pot, finally taking your first sip of your morning cup of crack when two hands appear on either side on you on the counter . One metal , one flesh . WTF?

” I thought you were going to sleep the entire day away doll.“ Buckys lips are right next to your ear, barely grazing them as he speaks. His lips glide down your neck, barely touching but just enough to make you squirm.

Originally posted by cliffpantones

” well you thought wrong . “  you have to hold in a whimper when he moves closer and his body presses tightly against your back. You can feel his bulge against your ass, making your body want to move back against him. Hes taking this to a new level,  shit. Its been a silent understandment, whoever caves first loses . And by caves, you mean whoever jumps the other one for sex first ,loses. And you aren’t about to give him the satisfaction  of winning .

 You decide to go with  it, moving your ass back against him. His hand jump from the counter to your waist, his grip tight enough that you know youll have bruises; but you don’t care .  He holds you against him, light moans leaving his lips as you grind yourself back against him . Its affecting you as much as it is him, you can feel a wetspot forming on your underwear , and are regretting not wearing pants now .

” Did you think about me Bucky? While you fucked yourself did you think about how tight my pussy would feel, wrapped around you dick as you fuck into me?  “

” Of course I did doll, fuck,  I haven’t been able to think about anything else. did you- did you think of me baby?“ he admits, and you know you have him.  You turn in his arms and lean up , hovering your lips over his.

Originally posted by lovershub

” Oh James, I thought of you taking me in every possible way . “ he moves to connect your lips but you back up . You place your hands behind you , lifting yourself up to sit on the counter . He steps forward to place himself between your legs, but you stick your hand up stopping him . He raises an eyebrow in question , but it drops as soon as your hand moves to your pussy . You lift your legs onto the counter, spreading yourself infront of him . His eyes fly to between your legs, watching as your finger draws circles into your clothed clit.  His metal hand moves to his crotch , palming at himself as he watches.

” Doll, please -“

” Do you want to see Bucky ? See how I’m dripping for you?’ you purr .  He still hasn’t actually seen you do it yourself , that was your one rule you had for youself . You never sent him a snap of your fingers in you, so hes really only seen your clit.  But at this moment, you want him to see everything. You want him to cave, to fuck you . You want Bucky Barnes to fuck you so badly , you even consider caving first ; but then snap out of your horny daze to realize you can win this without having to give; there’s no way he’ll be able to keep this up that much longer . He frantically nods ‘yes’ to your question , widening the smirk on your face as he does. As you go to pull your panties to the side, the sound of footsteps echoe from the hall . Of fucking course. You quickly hop off the counter, and away from Bucky .

 Steve and Sam walk in, their conversation stopping when they see you .

Originally posted by pandasubaru

“ look who finally woke - whoa whats going on in here?” sam asks . You let out an awkward laugh in response, grabbing your cup of coffee as you go to leave. It feels as if theres a puddle in your underwear, and its extremely uncomfortable , you need to get out here asap .

“ Ill see you boys later . ”

You hear them call their goodbyes as you step onto the elevator, before the  doors close Bucky runs down the hall, stopping infront of the doors as they begin closing. he doesn’t step in , just says,

“ This isn’t over doll .”

“ Oh sweetheart, you wont last much longer.“

Originally posted by onetreehill-gifs

Originally posted by theimpossibleg1rl

sds

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Temper - Optional Bias Fluff/Angst

prompt: Person A, the more stoic/serious of the two, treating a severe injury that Person B sustained. Person B notices A’s hands shaking and tries to crack a joke, which only serves to send Person A bursting into tears over nearly losing B.


The clock on your wall ticking was now making you irritable.

The large hand was jerking forward before jerking back into place to show the next minute.

Nothing else could be heard in the apartment, making your annoyance rise even more.

You looked down at the man in front of you, wincing as your eyes moved to his hands covered in blood.

Your blood.

You had been avoiding eye contact since he had carried you home, but it was hard with him constantly looking at you to see what you were thinking about.

His dominant hand was stitching carefully at your side, right above your hips, and his other hand held the skin tightly.

The mission had been entirely successful, but it seemed you weren’t going to have a celebration any time soon.

Minutes before the fight had been won, you’d been struck in the side with a knife, the guy went as far to slice your whole side, but you had retaliated quick enough, killing him with the gun resting on your left thigh.

You had fallen to the floor, crawling into a corner to avoid the gunshots and physical fights now ringing out, and hid there until you could no longer hear anything at all.

Your vision was getting fuzzy as you pressed your shirt to the open wound, trying to regulate your breathing so you wouldn’t hyperventilate.

Then you heard him calling your name.

You didn’t understand why he was so frantic, but when you remembered how he’d lost you half way into the fight, you understood.

You called out for him from your place upstairs in the old warehouse, and instantly you heard him stomping up the old metal stairs, calling for you again to locate you.

He didn’t find you standing up, in fact, he couldn’t find you at all, which only raised his fear.

He called again and you answered, he rushed in the direction, pushing the box that was hiding you away.

He quickly reached to pick you up, ignoring your groans as he quickly tried to get you out.

Only seconds later and you were already in the car, speeding towards his apartment on an empty street.

You were constantly going in and out, all your senses fuzzy and a raging migraine playing with your head.

He quickly brought you into the house, and now this was your position.

You realized he wouldn’t speak to you, so you laid down, exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You suddenly felt one of his hands tighten its grip on you, “Are you okay?” He asks you in an almost hostile voice.

But you can tell he’s only concerned.

“I’m fine, my back just hurts.” You close your eyes.

He takes his hands and forcefully pulls you back up, “You shouldn’t fall asleep until I’m sure nothing’s wrong…internally.”
You sigh, nodding once.

He takes a cloth wiping away the mess at the perfect stitch with warm, sterilized water.

His hands are shaking, involuntary tremors not helping as he tries to seem fine.

He finally finishes and bandages it after it dries.

Then he pulls off your shirt and pants before looking into his drawers and pulling out one of his shirts.

He pulls it over your head, guiding your arms through the holes, before sitting down in front of you again on the floor.

“Thanks.”

He nods while looking at his hands, which are still shaking, now even worse than before.

“Are your hands cold?” You joke.

You speak in a taunting manner, and the smile etched on your face lets him know you’re trying to lighten the mood.

Doesn’t it?
It doesn’t seem so as he continues to look down, head down as well.

If you hadn’t been looking for a reaction so bad, you wouldn’t have seen the tear fall onto dirty pants, which forces you to turn serious.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, the question has rung out between you two many times today, but this is the first time you’re asking him.

And you can tell he isn’t when you see his shoulders heave, a hard inhale rips through the silence in the air, as you realize he’s now sobbing like a baby.

You curse yourself for doing nothing for a few seconds, before reaching over to pull at his chin.

His neck stiffens, as if he doesn’t want you to look at him, but he lets up when he realizes you won’t let him go.

You use the thumb on the hand you used to lift his chin to start wiping at tears.

But there’s no use as more just keep coming.

He pushes your hand away, moving to rest his head on your bare lap.

You can feel warm tears sliding off your inner thighs onto the comforter, but you ignore it, rubbing his back.

His arms wrap around your waist, one hand fisting the top of your underwear into a knot to release his frustration.

Your free hand moves through his hair as you wait for him to calm down, but it doesn’t seem anytime soon, so you just wait until he’s ready.

It’s almost thirty minutes before he’s almost calm, hiccuping as he refuses to look at you.

“What’s wrong?” You finally ask.

“You almost died.” He answered quietly.

“I didn-”

“Yes, you did.” He mumbles.

His lips are tickling one side of your hips as he speaks.

“When I first found you I thought you were already almost dead.” He says. “Then you kept zoning out on me in the car and…” He can’t finish, but you understand what he means.

“I’m fine, now.” You point out.
“Yes, but you weren’t.” He says. “And I’m not a doctor, I knew I couldn’t take you to hospital, they’d ask too many questions, and I didn’t know if I could save you all by myself.”
You don’t speak.

“My hands were shaking before I even started, because I knew if I was too slow or made a small mistake, you’d be gone.”

That’s all that had been eating him alive.

“Stop talking like that, I’m fine.” You speak.

“But you weren’t.” He says again.

“I’m never letting that happen again, you’re never leaving my side during a mission ever again.” He looks up at you.

“You know that’s no-”

“Just promise me.”

“I can’t keep that promise.” You tell him.

“I know you can’t, but please, just say it to me.”
“I’ll never leave you again.” You say.

“Tell me you love me.” He requests.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I know.” You kiss the top of his head.


not as angsty as i usually am, huh?

thanks for reading~

2

heres a quick body ref. hope it helps you guys in a sorry if its unclear im bad at this stuff.

like usually i never use reference its a bad habit and i usually draw everything the way i picture it in my head. but ref is really handy especially for awkward angles (not so much as these but you get the idea)or even getting use to the character,                                                                                                                  like for cu and krupp are and egg shape but the angles that i drew them here are more pear like mainly because the body is curved as you can see with the blue lines the purple is more of the construction of his body.

i make my own screen cap ref to practice a times and its really fun by doing it in your own style as well. i might post some more of more difficult angles or if you guys want to see anything specific 

hexmaniacshroom  asked:

oumasai prompts you say? how about, ouma visits saihara’s room late at night, angst and comfort? I’ve left it pretty open ended, I hope that’s okay!

Alright so I’ve been thinking about it and this is gonna be interesting! Thanks for the prompt. This takes place in chapter 4, and it’s kind of canon divergence, so if you haven’t played through chapter 4, don’t fucking read this. Actually, if you haven’t finished the game, don’t read this. Just don’t do it.


It’s around three in the morning Saihara’s wakes up to a sudden noise. It’s quiet, like the shuffling of keys, but he’s always been a light sleeper, and he especially doesn’t sleep well in this game. He sits up, back painfully straight, watching nothing but the door. Light creeps in from a crack in the door, and a shadow slips in. It’s dark, and he can’t make out who the sudden intruder is, but he doesn’t have to. There’s only one lock picker here. 

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara calls out. When the lights turn on Saihara’s anxiety drops from like a 70 to 40; it’s disadvantageous to kill with light.

“Aww, I was hoping to surprise you, Saihara-chan.” Ouma greets, pushing his messy purple hair away from his face. Saihara notes he’s carrying nothing on him; again his anxiety drops. “That’s a shame. You’re already awake though. Were you thinking about someone? Akamatsu-chan?”

He’s not awake enough for this. “What do you want?” he asks, rubbing the slight remains of sleep from his eyes.

“Straight to the point, huh?” Ouma says, seating himself on the back of the blue arm chair. He leans forward, almost ready to fall off, when he answers. “You could say I’m in some trouble, so I came here for your expert advice, Saihara-chan.”

“On what?” Is he even awake enough to be giving advice right now? He doesn’t think so. Besides, given the boy asking for it he’s not convinced he should. 

“How you would prevent your own murder.” Ouma drops the bombshell as casually as he says anything else, and Saihara has never been more awake. 

Prevent a murder? I-isn’t that far too much responsibility to put on me? I solve crimes not prevent–but then he takes a good look in front of him. At Ouma Kokichi, swaying back and forth on the back of a blue arm chair, as if he has no cares at all. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

All movement stops. Ouma’s face is blank. Unreadable. The one face Saihara has no idea how to interpret. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” Ouma replies, voice flat, and he pushes himself off the chair and heads towards the door. “Well, might as well go with plan B then. Good night, Saihara-chan!” he sing songs, but it’s as flat as everything else.

Saihara expected several reactions. He expected Ouma to whine and tell some extravagant unbelievable lie before giving it up. He expected Ouma to laugh and change his statement. He expected Ouma to go ‘Yep! That’s a lie.’

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

He didn’t expect this.

Ouma’s about to leave when Saihara finds himself calling out “wait!” Ouma stops, hand on the doorknob. Several long seconds pass before he finally turns back around, his face still unreadable. “I—” Saihara begins, but doesn’t finish. Ouma doesn’t say anything, only stares back at Saihara. “I should hear you out first. Even if it’s a lie, I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

The silence is borderline excruciating. Eventually, with no change in his expression whatsoever, Ouma asks, “Even a liar like myself?”

“You’re still one of us, regardless.”

Something changes slightly in Ouma’s expression, Saihara thinks it might be surprise, before finally he laughs. “I didn’t realize you were so easy to trick, Saihara-chan!”  He jumps back onto the arm chair and leans over the back with a huge innocent smile.

Saihara almost wants to throw him out. He almost thinks am I being toyed with again? He almost buys into Ouma’s antics, but he doesn’t. “So what makes you think someone’s planning to kill you?” He asks, and as Ouma explains far too enthusiastically, Saihara reflects.

He doesn’t have a good reason for believing Ouma. The idea that all of this is just another trick gone too far doesn’t seem out of character, but Saihara doesn’t think it is. Instead he thinks he’s just one step closer to the truth behind the enigmatic liar Ouma Kokichi. He doesn’t know what that truth is, but he’s closer.

Em… a witchy nerd???

Bad habit confessional: You don’t have to tell me twice that I’m unwanted in your lfe. If I get the impression that my presence in something not to your liking you best believe I’ll be outta there in a jiffy girl bye 

anonymous asked:

sick shiro? hell yes. maybe hunk made some space food that actually tastes like something that Shiro really liked at earth so he stuffs his face with it and he realizes too late that this stuffs makes him really nauseous...end off the story Shiro is just really stuffed and nauseous because it really doesn't agree with him and hunk feeling bad tries to comfort and take care of him?

A/N: @bosstoaster for the Shiro hunger headcanons. Plus, I love this pairing, okay?

As the team’s unofficial chef, Hunk is very aware of everyone’s individual eating habits; likes, dislikes, specific allergies, and so forth.

For instance, he knows that Lance won’t touch anything that even remotely resembles a brussels sprout with a twelve-foot pole. He knows Pidge has a quirk about different foods interacting on the same plate; everything has to have its separate, designated space. Keith has to be coaxed, (sometimes forced), into eating even a little breakfast and he blatantly refuses food when he’s anxious before missions.

It took Hunk a little longer with Shiro. The night they had rescued him from the compound he hadn’t realized the extent of the damage; he’d assumed the poor guy was still suffering nasty side effects as a result of being drugged, not to mention starved for over a year.

Hunk had whipped up an impromptu dinner for everyone in Keith’s little shack, taking solace in the comforting sense of control the process of stirring, chopping, and searing had allotted, if only for a fleeting couple of hours.

Long after everyone else had cleaned their plates, Shiro had continued to eat. He’d mechanically shoveled food into his mouth like a ravenous robot, oblivious to his companion’s bafflement. At the time, Hunk hadn’t understood; hadn’t really thought anything of it. He’d seemed hungry, so Hunk had continued to feed him. And Shiro had kept eating. It was the grim concentration that had really freaked Hunk out. Shiro hadn’t enjoyed the food, either. In hindsight, Hunk realized his objective had been to inhale every scrap of nourishment as quickly as possible. He’d quite literally eaten himself sick.

Halfway through his fourth bowl of stew, Shiro had abruptly spun away from the table and vomited it all back up onto the floor, nearly giving Keith a heart attack.

Shiro never talked about his year in captivity. But Hunk was willing to bet his ass that food - if you could call it that - had been scarce and Shiro had been forced to fight for every morsel. He also guessed that prisoners were never fed regularly or sufficiently. Hunk had no idea if humans were even meant to ingest whatever the Galra considered food. It couldn’t have been especially pleasant. He couldn’t imagine forcing yourself to eat for the sole purpose of fighting to stay alive, not knowing when or if you’d ever be fed again. It made his chest ache when he thought about Shiro trapped in such a monstrous hell.

Shiro’s brain had undoubtedly been conditioned to consume every bite of whatever he was given, solely fueled by the most basic human instinct: survival.

Since they’d all been tossed together, Hunk’s taken it upon himself to meticulously monitor Shiro’s meals. The man has absolutely no concept of hunger or the parameters those triggers entail. Essentially, it boils down to making Shiro eat and then ensuring Shiro stops if he’s distracted. Hunk isn’t positive Shiro is ever going to be able to enjoy food like a normal person ever again. That realization makes him incredibly sad.

One of Hunk’s favorite pastimes is cooking for the team, (when Coran hasn’t beaten him to it). He’s grown exceptionally skilled at experimenting with the various foreign ingredients and creating dishes that taste nearly identical to some of his favorite foods back on Earth.

Still, he’s never seen Shiro actually enjoy a meal. Sure, their leader enjoys the company, the camaraderie and routine of sitting down to do something so mundane and familiar in the midst of their crazy lives. But from what Hunk can deduce, Shiro eats because he knows his body requires the nutrients and energy in order to function properly, not because he relishes the flavors or textures of whatever’s placed in front of him.

So the night he makes something vaguely similar to chicken spaghetti, (it’d been a rough mission; Hunk needed comfort food), and presents it to the group, he isn’t surprised when everyone digs in. What does surprise him is Shiro’s reaction after his first bite.

Oh,” Shiro pulls back for a moment, chewing slowly and giving a curious tilt of his head. He swallows, a strange smile playing at the corners of his lips. “This is…”

“Oh,” Hunk echoes, disappointment weighing heavily as his shoulders droop. “You don’t like it.”

Shiro shakes his head, “No, I…this is really good. It tastes like…I don’t know. Something my mom used to make, I think.”

Shiro’s never bothered mentioning his family. The comment sends Hunk sputtering while the other paladins gape at Shiro, noisy sounds of chewing abruptly halting as forks poise listlessly in the air.

“I, uh,” Hunk stammers, still taken aback by Shiro’s compliment. “I was going for chicken spaghetti?”

“Yeah,” Shiro hums after a thoughtful moment before digging into his meal with renewed enthusiasm. “That’s it. That’s what she used to make.”

Shiro moans around another mouthful, closing his eyes as he swallows. “Hunk, this is incredible. I don’t know how you do it.”

Hunk beams with the praise, smiling from ear-to-ear as he watches Shiro reach for the serving bowl to ladle out another helping. He’s eating with gusto, relishing every bite.

“Well, it’s not exactly spaghetti, but I guess it had the general shape,” Hunk chuckles, swirling a bite around his own fork. “So I figured I’d give it a try.”

“It’s awesome, Hunk,” Lance agrees, cheeks ballooning as he struggles to speak through an obscene amount of…space spaghetti?

Shiro nods, barely pausing to breathe as he practically inhales his second plate.

Pidge and Keith contribute their own compliments, quickly finishing their portions and heading to the showers to wash off the day’s grime. Lance lets out an unapologetic, thoroughly satisfied belch before announcing he’s wiped.

“You want some help?” Lance offers lazily, slurring around a sleepy yawn.

Hunk rolls his eyes, “No, no. I’ve got it. You’d only screw up my system, anyway. Yes, there is a system, Lance.” He begins gathering up the empty plates, feeling the grueling exhaustion beginning to take its toll. That’s when he notices that Shiro hasn’t moved. Come to think of it, he hasn’t moved for a good five minutes.

The older boy is hunched over the table, head bowed, arms braced against the surface and hands clenched into tight fists. His eyes are squeezed shut, upper body swaying gently as his throat works with convulsive swallows.

“Shiro?” Hunk frowns, crossing over to place a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Shiro jerks upright, blinking at Hunk with hazy, unfocused eyes as his throat bobs with another thick swallow. He’s alarmingly pale, skin clammy with sweat and hair matted to his forehead.

“Yeah,” he pants, tongue slowly licking over his upper lip. “‘M fine. Jus’…just tired.” His slurred words end with an audible shudder that visibly ripples down his spine. His hand strays to hover over his abdomen, lips parting to pant softly as he struggles to stand.

“You sure?” Hunk glares skeptically, keeping his hand on Shiro’s shoulder as he rises. “‘Cause you look kind of -“

Hunk is abruptly cut off by an odd gurgling sound. Shiro’s eyes widen as he frantically presses a fist to his mouth. A wet burp rumbles in his throat, causing his chest to jolt.

Hunk takes an involuntary step back as Shiro cringes, suppressing another deep belch. “Um, Shiro?”

“E-excuse me, I -” Shiro blushes furiously, hand rubbing over his stomach as he takes a few steps away from Hunk. “My stomach feels…sorry. I don’t know what’s -“ he cuts himself off with another gurgly burp, cupping a hand firmly over his mouth before stumbling away from the mess-hall, breaking into an awkward jog. “I’ve..gotta go.”

Baffled, Hunk really has no choice but to follow. Something is seriously wrong and he has the sinking suspicion that it’s his fault.

He catches up easily. Shiro’s hunched over in the hallway, one arm gripping abusively around his stomach and the other bracing his weight against the wall. He’s panting, broad frame jerking with sharp hiccups that he’s obviously desperate to stifle.

Hunk can’t help resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Shiro flinches, but doesn’t push him off, just curls in harder on himself.

“You’re sick,” Hunk says matter-of-factly, leaving little room for argument. “You should have said something.”

“I’m not -“ a muffled retch interrupts his protest. Shiro presses his fist against his mouth so hard Hunk’s afraid he’s going to crack his jawbone. “I’m just…so full. I can’t remember ever feeling so…oh, my stomach -“ Shiro’s voice catches on another hiccup and Hunk braces his palm against the other man’s chest, attempting to steady him.

“I know,” he says, voice gentle. “Don’t worry. You’re okay. It was just a little too much, I guess.”

Shiro grunts, trying to detangle himself from Hunk’s grip as another violent gag erupts from his throat. He staggers into the shared bathroom, knees bruising against the floor as he drapes himself over the toilet. He clenches the edges of the bowl, legs writhing as he struggles to regain control of his rebelling body.

“What the hell is - ulp - wrong with me?” Shiro demands, shoulders shuddering brutally as saliva drips over his bottom lip.

Despite his own mounting nausea, Hunk squats down behind the older boy, placing a warm hand against the center of his back. He begins rubbing slow, methodic circles, hoping to help in one way or another. He has no idea what he’s doing, but Shiro isn’t pulling away, so it must be all right.

“Your body isn’t used to so much,” Hunk reasons, wincing sympathetically as Shiro convulses wretchedly at the mention of food. It’s true; he hasn’t seen Shiro eat that much since their first encounter and he feels awful for allowing it to go so far. “I think you may have overdone it a little. I’m sorry. I should have -“

“Don’t be,” Shiro gags, spitting uselessly into the bowl. “Wasn’t your - urp - fault.”

Of course it wasn’t. Nothing is ever anyone’s fault but Shiro’s. Goddammit.

Hunk takes a deep breath through his nose, wrapping his arms in a sturdy embrace around Shiro’s waist as he muffles the shaky words, “Yes it was. Don’t be such a fucking hero.”

It’s angry and stupid and selfish but it gets Shiro’s attention.

Shiro glances up from the bowl, eyes momentarily softening as he regards his friend.

“Hunk,” Shiro barely manages to choke out the name before he’s curling forward with a full-bodied heave, burping up a stream of brown bile. Hunk winces, automatically increasing the pressure of his hand against Shiro’s back. His other unconsciously presses against Shiro’s contracting stomach.

“Don’t worry,” Hunk reassures, tightening his grip as he feels the other boy’s determination waver, muscles bunching and coiling in desperate anticipation. “I’ve got you.”

Hunk feels like his insides are disintegrating when Shiro’s self-control finally gives out, sending him lurching over the bowl with a belching gag that results in a flood of pre-digested liquid spewing from his mouth. Shiro coughs and wheezes, desperate for a breath of air as crippling waves of nausea threaten to suffocate him.

“Take it easy,” Hunk coaches. His nose brushes weakly against Shiro’s right shoulder blade as the older boy hiccups pitifully, grasping onto the supporting arm that Hunk’s encircled around his waist. “Breathe.”

Shiro tries to follow the order and ends up retching, another harsh belch ushering up a watery flood of sick. He slumps over the toilet, panting raggedly as the fit eventually wears off.

Hunk is kind of freaking out. It’s almost as bad as the first time it happened. Except this time, he knows it’s his fault.

Shiro coughs, tainted drool dribbling languidly over his bottom lip as he struggles to regain some semblance of control over his own body. Then his hand strays to Hunk’s, long fingers brushing against his skin.

“Hunk,” he slurs, voice breathless. “Wasn’t you. Stop…stop thinkin’ so hard.”

“W-what?” Hunk stammers, voice catching.

“I can hear you,” Shiro chuckles, a little deliriously as he slumps against Hunk’s chest. “So loud.”

“Well, stop it,” Hunk demands, readjusting Shiro’s weight against him. “It’s weird, okay? Reading people’s thoughts isn’t normal.”

Shiro simply nods, offering a woozy smile as he goes limp against Hunk’s chest, exhaustion sluicing through his body. He slides down onto Hunk’s thigh, nuzzling contentedly as his labored breathing evens out.

“Ah, geez,” Hunk groans. In spite of his initial irritation at being reduced to a human pillow, Hunk continues to drag his fingers over Shiro’s back, humming soothing sounds whenever he stirs.

“You’re all right,” he whispers when Shiro whimpers softly in his sleep. “You’re gonna be all right.”

my spot headcanons

- hes really superstitious. most of the brooklyn newsies are. he believes in luck and he has all his own little customs about it like its bad luck if you sell in the morning fog or if you dont count your papes as well as the usual stuff. 

- hes autistic. this ties into the customs, he gets really anxious if he doesnt do his rituals and habits. he genuinely hates the feeling of sleeves as a textural thing, but its more like. he didnt wear sleeves so long that when he tried again he hated it, not that he hated sleeves so much he cut them all off. he has trouble telling when people are fucking with him so hes pretty blunt and usually reacts with an ass kicking. 

- he has a way with animals. hes kind of notorious for the fact that there are always a few stray dogs hanging around wherever he is, and a few that live permanently in his usual haunts (the docks, places he plays cards, the lodginghouse he sleeps near). hes friendly with them, and his newsies are too, and he loves em. theyre also kind of intimidating when people come to visit. but hes also befriended pigeons and trained them, the gulls at the docks hover near him, the street cats hang around too and animals just generally. trust him. hes really good with them and he can read their body language well.

- hes homeless. the brooklyn newsies have the highest rate of Sleeping On The Streets out of any borough, and his personal need for privacy while he sleeps (hes like…an outgoing high energy introvert) plus the fact he doesnt wanna take a bed from a kid who needs it more plus his Tough Image means he generally sleeps in alleys or on balconies/fire escapes if its warm. he swaps out where newsies sleep, so that everyone gets a chance to have a night inside at least once a week.

- he has a pet rat named mugsy. he was sitting in an alley one day, pretty stressed and anxious, tryna eat his lunch and calm down when he saw this little brown rat foraging in the garbage and he offered it some food and it came over and he pet it for a while which calmed him down and when he had to go and do business he took it with him as a comfort thing. imagine him sitting with a rat in his lap, stroking it like a supervillain, but its really just bc its comforting. anyway now he takes mugsy w him everywhere and carries him either on his shoulder, in his paper bag, in his hat or just in his hands

- he had a lisp as a kid. it was cute. he grew out of it eventually. he can also whistle really well through the gap in his teeth, and its one of the ways he gets everyones attention in brooklyn. 

- hes really smart. not book smart, so much. but he is so strategically minded, and everything to him is just a puzzle that needs solving. its why he makes such a brilliant leader, and how he has so much power. he thinks fast, hes a good problem solver, he comes up with solutions other people dont think of. bc of this it sometimes looks like hes just throwing himself into shit, but really he knows exactly what hes doing. he doesnt panic if he doesnt have a plan for something bc hes confident hell be able to figure it out as he goes. but he never jumps into something if he isnt sure hes going to come out on top. hence the strike.

anonymous asked:

Honestly I think that Dean never really recovered from the MoC and especially losing Charlie. It still really angers me that they did that and also didn't bring her back, because how many actual friends does Dean have? Sam is his brother and whatever road the show takes with Cas, the relationship is clearly More and also Cas has a bad habit of disappearing for budget reasons. Charlie was a friend in the true way where two people choose to just like and trust each other. It's so important.

Yeah, I don’t think Dean ever got to recover from the entire MoC experience, including Charlie’s loss. How many times did he really get a win ever since then? Sure, he saved the world and literally saved God’s life, but that didn’t feel like a win. God just dropped the responsibility of the entire planet in his shoulders and left. Amara brought Mary back and that was supposed to be, like, amazing, and it wasn’t. I read a post the other day about the fact that Dean has been in a very vulnerable state long before 12x23. In fact 13x01 (the prayer) and 13x02 (his convo about God with Jack) express his frustration at God, highlighting the fact that for Chuck’s ~don’t confuse me with your father~ thing was bullshit because Chuck’s behavior has been overwhelmingly like John’s.

The Mark of Cain arc, and later Amara’s arc up until the finale, was basically Dean shouldering the weight of Chuck’s responsibility towards what he’d done to his sister. Chuck only showed up at the last moment, failed, got saved by Dean, and just dumped the responsibility for the world on Dean again (technically Sam too, but Dean has been raised to keep the weight off Sam’s shoulders as much as possible, and keep as much weight as possibly on his own shoulders - which doesn’t mean Sam doesn’t suffer, but that Dean has been raised to consider his needs as worth exactly zero).

Charlie’s death - as terrible as it was to kill an openly queer woman for ‘manpain’ and all, I’m not talking about that rn - made sense (of course I’m not saying her death was the only obligated way they could go to make the story make sense, because that’s not true, but I get the reasoning behind the choice). Because her death really took something important away from Dean. He was left with Sam, whom he did not have a good relationship with at the time (and Sam doesn’t count as a friend, because of a billion reasons, of course), Cas, who comes with a whole baggage of repression and guilt because he’s something Dean wants but does not think he deserves, and Crowley, whom at the time Dean had a complicated relationship with because Crowley’s responsibility in the MoC/demon thing was still fresh.

She represented something genuinely positive for Dean - they had so much in common, the trauma and the inner darkness and the light and the enthusiasm both, and she showed Dean that it was okay to be all of that and be proud of what you are and see the magical side of life.

She represented the possibility that you can be light and dark at the same time and it’s okay. Just like Benny represented the possibility that you can be a monster with big mistakes in your past and yet be a good person. They both were dualistic characters, that, well, had to die for ‘Deanpain’, yeah, because Dean still has some way to go before accepting his dualistic nature (same for Cas, a very dualistic character - they can’t just have a full healthy relationship yet, because otherwise you end up at the endgame of Dean’s character development too fast).

anonymous asked:

Boyf riends shotgunning hc's

Shxkskxks I’m sorry if this is inaccurate I do not do the tainted leaf but I still find this concept adorable

-this is actually how Jeremy’s first smoke went, because he was really nervous and for some reason it really helped him calm down

-the first time was also through a fist instead of a kiss because well no homo of course that’s gay- wait you’re gay?

-“wow” “that was uh..” “wow” “yeah that was nice” “wanna do it again?” “Fuck yeah”

-it eventually became habit for them to do it like that when the smoked together

-that is until Michael forgot about the No Homo Tunnel and straight up kissed Jeremy

-those boys never sobered up so fast they were both just kinda screaming at each other things like “OHMYGOD WE KISSED” and “I AM SO SORRY”

-eventually Jeremy yelled “ITS OK MAN THAT ACTUALLY WASNT HALF BAD” “REALLY?!” “YAH” “WANNA DO IT AGAIN?!” “NO HOMO THO”

-after Jeremy realizes he’s bi he looks back on this moment and wonders how he didn’t see that yes it was homo

-like seriously Jeremy the signs were all there

-when Michael and Jeremy finally start dating they celebrate with a smoke and Michael asks if he wants to shotgun it

- “no homo though, right Jer?” “Hmmm…nah this is like top tier homo…”

7

You’ve all heard of Mob getting possessed by an evil spirit, now get ready for… Teru getting possessed by an evil spirit!!! I’m sure something like this has been done before but, I have this really (hopefully) cool idea for this that I want to either draw or write! I’m not sure which would be easier for me to do yet, but I’ll figure it out soon. Maybe I’ll just do both? We’ll see.

Anyways its almost 4am (i need to stop this bad sleeping habits of mine…) so I’ll sleep now, and work more on this Teru!Possessed AU thingy later! 

BONUS // Q&A with Christian Yu
  • Christian and you have been spending so much time on Youtube. Watching everything from puppy videos to conspiracy theories. Christian then suggested to you that he wants to do a Q&A with you. He even printed out the questions so he knew you would say yes anyway.
  • Christian: C’mon babe, it would be fun and the fans will get to know us better. Pleaaaase.
  • You: Okay fine but you owe me something.
  • Christian: Awesome! The first question is where did you two go on your first date?
  • You: First date? I think we had dinner Jamie's Italian.
  • Christian: Yeah the one near Circular Quay and after that we went to check out the lights because Vivid was on. Oh and all of this is back in Sydney btw.
  • You: Mhmm. What's the next question?
  • Christian: What are your thoughts the first time meeting each other?
  • You: We actually met at Boost. We were waiting for our drinks and funnily enough, we ordered the same one. The girl called out the drink and we both went to grab it. Christian then insisted I take the drink so I did. I thought oh what a gentlemen, he's so sweet.
  • Christian: What did you do after you took the drink?
  • You: I said thank you.
  • Christian: Yeah and you just ran off.
  • You: I had a train to catch.
  • Christian: So rude babe.
  • You: So that was your first thought of me? Rude?
  • Christian: Nooo, I saw you standing there and I thought oh hey, this girl has good taste in clothes. I remember because we were wearing the same type of sneakers.
  • You: Nice save.
  • Christian: What is the most romantic thing that I have done?
  • You: I really loved it when you took me here for the first time. It was the afternoon and the sun was setting. The view out of this window was amazing! And you had like scented candles all around the place. Another bonus was you made dinner and DESSERT that night.
  • Christian: Yeah, you know that dessert was a fluke. I definitely did not expect the cake to rise because I added too much flour and little baking soda.
  • You: It was really good. So what are each other’s worst or annoying habits?
  • Christian: You babe have the habit of leaving the cupboard doors open. Like it's not fully closed or opened. Just like a few centimeters away from it being fully closed. Why don't you use a tiny extra effort to make it close all the way?
  • You: Er I wouldn't be bashing me with my habit, Mr. Always leaving the bathroom lights on. And Mr. Always Spending So Much Time On His Hair. Your hair is always fine babe.
  • Christian: Fine, guess we're both bad. The next question is what is your ideal date night?
  • You: We tend to have dinner at home then take a stroll. I remember that time when our stroll lasted until 3am.
  • Christian: Yeah, I remember that. And it's nice walking around at night because I like to shoot short videos on my phone. You guys probably can see them on my Instagram.
  • You: You included this next question?
  • Christian: I didn't read the questions beforehand. I just printed them straight off the net. What is it?
  • You: Are there any weird fantasies/kinks that you have or into?
  • Christian: OHHHH. I see what you mean. Do you want me to address this babe?
  • You: Yeah but keep it PG.
  • Christian: PG? I'll try. Umm we do a lot of erm you know, sexting, dirty talk and sometimes foreplay. That's all I'm gonna say.
  • You buried your face behind Christian's back.
  • Christian: Alright, glad we got that out of the way. The last question is do you have any funny, embarrassing sex stories?
  • You: Babe, you take this one as well.
  • Christian: Umm funny, embarrassing sex stories? Only one comes to mind. Okay so we were on the bed, this one behind us, and I was um going down on [Y/N] but my back was facing this wall. So like you couldn't see anything besides the back of my back and [Y/N]'s legs. Anyway so after the deed was done, we cleaned up and stuff then I realised my laptop's cam was still on. I was doing a short recording of Lori trying to jump on the bed before we did it and I forgot all out it. Turns out, it was recording the whole thing. So being me, I actually made a short time loop of me and [Y/N], you know just me going down on her.
  • You: I still can't believe you name that file as TEST01.
  • Christian: I wouldn't think anyone would open it.
  • You: But who opened it babe?
  • Christian: Dabin. Well I didn't expect him to open that file, not my fault. He thought it was a test video for his new mv. I should've filed that video in my personal folder and not on the Desktop.
  • You: Take notes for next time then.
  • Christian: Next time aye? Anyway Dabin couldn't even tell it was us.
  • You: Are you sure? Your tattoos and that painting on the wall would have given it away.
  • Christian: Well he hasn't said anything so let's just say Dabin didn't see anything.
  • You: Is that all the questions? I'm hungry now.
  • Christian: Hmm yeah, that was the last one. Want to you wanna eat?
  • You: Pizza and let's watch Back to the Future?
  • Christian: That's why you're my girlfriend.

chuuyazai  asked:

OOOOHHHH YAY!! You're requests are open again!!! If it's okay and if you haven't done this request before, can I request headcanons for Bakugou, Kirishima, and Kaminari with an s/o who's an insomniac? Like it takes forever for them to fall asleep at night and it's hard for them to stay asleep throughout the night too? I *love* your blog and your writing is AMAZING by the way!! Stay awesome love💜

omfg i love your icon

____________________________

Bakugou Katsuki

-at first he wouldn’t care about his s/o’s sleeping habits

-it isn’t his business, really, and he wouldn’t get involved unless his s/o asked him to

-if they did ask for his help, he’d have them work out with him to the point of exhaustion

-like he would think that would help the best, and in some cases it does

-if it didn’t or one night it was just really bad, he’d hang out with them and watch a movie or something. 

-the boi sleeps in till noon so he obviously can stay up late if he wants to

-if they wake up in the middle of the night and text/call him he’d be an ass no surprise there but would talk with them for as long as he could

Kirishima Eijirou

-is HIGHLY CONCERNED

-remind his s/o that they need between 5 and 8 hours a sleep a day, consecutive is preferred by physicians

-takes them to Recovery Girl when he finds out

-like no choice, flung over the shoulder, we will work through this together kind of deal

-also would stay up with them on bad nights

-gets all the remedies he finds online from those house wife websites

-like chamomile: check. melatonin: check. milka nd cookies: check.

-is always ready to help his s/o, but would feel uber bad i they reached out to him lat eat night and he slept through their text/call or during the conversation

-he seems like a morning person, so late nights might be hard for him

-HES TRYING HIS BEST

Kaminari Denki

-doesn’t realize it’s a problem?

-like he just takes it as his s/o is a night owl and that’s cool 

-he doesn’t see how sleep deprivation can be a real problem until his so EDUCATES HIM. then he internally freaks

-but tries to be cool as a cucumber for his s/o fails

-tries all the sleep remedies with them and ends up sleeping through classes and getting detention

-also tries to stay up with his s/o when they can’t sleep, same result

-wants to help but doesn’t really see how he can? like he isn’t cut out for a life of > three hours of sleep at any given time

-hates that he can’t help his s/o more

-would probably ask Aizawa for help because as much as that man loves naps and sleeping, he really doesn’t get to 

-would support his s/o in whatever they decide to do with the issue. 

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I hope you liked it!

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