just a regular tuesday

on a scale of one to ten how sad are you.

you almost say seven but the answer floats in your lungs like rising mud. you shift your shoulders. some part of you is already forming an excuse. that it’s not that bad sometimes. one, two, three on a day that the clouds are out. you’re just complaining about stuff. yesterday you laughed past a brick of a four, does that make the brick come down to a two-point-five.  the solid seven panic attack of last tuesday feels somehow like a little thorn, just a regular day full of a gentle three-point-nine earthquake rocking after yesterday’s close-to-an-eight. see but if tomorrow you have a real bad day, it will make today look simple.

and what if. what if tomorrow it’s a big old red eight-point-nine. like one of those days where sirens are going off in every part of you but you’re stuck behind a glass window watching it all burn down. like one of those days that your skin against the air feels foreign. like too much of everything. like sitting-in-the-shower, like can’t-eat, like the tide isn’t just coming in, it came while you were sleeping and now you’ve gotta learn how to swim. like bounce me against a bullet hole kind of day.

you keep numbers like nine and ten way out of reach. those are for the people who really are suffering. you’ve got no excuse. nine and ten are funeral numbers, for real problems, not yours, no. and sometimes you’re fine. and you’re kind of used to it. and it’s not sad, it’s just numb like a television caught on static. numb like i can’t remember if i care about this. numb like nothing works but i can’t be bothered to fix it. that’s not sad that’s every day stuff. everybody feels like this, right? feels like they’ve been shut off. right.  

maybe five. right in the middle. like not gonna shoot myself but i’m not wasting your time. a nonanswer. like could be worse could be better. like i need help but i don’t want you to worry even though i need someone to worry about me because i can’t worry about myself. maybe five. but what if five is too small. what if five is too big. what if -

“on a scale of one to ten,” he repeats into your silence, and then pauses. “and please be honest about this.”

Okay so you know that prompt that’s like “we pretend to be engaged because this bakery/shop is doing free wedding cake tastings for couples and I love free cake”? Well I’ve yet to see it done for Andreil which I don’t get because like y’all know that Andrew would never say no to free cake! So as such, please now enjoy my ramblings…. 

  • So it goes like this:
  • Andrew and Neil are casually strolling down Main Street with all the shops and restaurants and stuff
  • Matt’s birthday is coming up or something and Neil has to find the ultimate best bro gift
  • And he drags Andrew along
  • So they’re going from shop to shop and Neil sucks at buying gifts so he is StrugglingTM
  • And as they walk to the next shop, they pass this bakery with a sign out front that says “Getting married? Come in for a free wedding cake tasting!”
  • And Andrew is like free cake? Fuck yeah
  • So he takes Neil’s hand in his and pulls him into the bakery
  • And Neil is a bit dazed and confused because he’s not used to hand holding in public like this??? PDA??? What is happening???
  • But he follows Andrew anyways

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anonymous asked:

Write a short one shot about a RWBY character of your choice meeting a Harry Potter character of your choice

Qrow scrutinized the new arrival with a heavy dose of distrust. No man with pure intentions would hold a wooden stick quite the way this one did. What was his semblance? Dowsing?

And he had appeared out of thin air, too. Well, not quite thin air. Just seconds before, a big black dog had stood there in his place. Had Qrow’s alcohol-infused delirium finally caught up to him? Did his brain make up strange men to cope with the trauma of his past now?

“Who are you?”

“I’m you”, Sirius replied, a smirk on his face as he dusted off his cloak in one swift motion. “But stronger. And quite dead, actually.”

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I Bet You It’s Love

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

I Bet You It’s Love [Jungkook X Reader]

THEME: Angst, fluff, romance

(WARNING): Some mature language

WORDS: 8 450

AUTHOR: TheLillzMonster

REQUESTED SCENARIO


It was a regular Tuesday morning and you were just walking through the gray high school hallway, filled with teenagers talking about whatever. Everyone had there own group that they belonged to. It was like an unwritten system. You always belonged to a group. Except for a few people, who were very lonely. Those few people were usually the quiet, shy and introverted type. And of course, you were one of them. You took quiet but fast steps, passing by all of the cheerful, happy, young souls who seemed to have endless things to talk about. Nobody noticed you. Nobody looked at you. Nobody greeted you. Not that you cared that much though. It was normal to you and you were used to it. It didn’t really bother you to be able to be alone and do whatever you wanted to without someone else stopping you. Loneliness wasn’t necessarily a negative thing to you anymore. You’d always been a socially shy person and if you had a friend, it was pretty much only one good friend, not a group. Groups just weren’t your thing.

You finally reached your locker and unlocked it. Girls from your class quickly appeared around you, as they were also getting stuff out of their lockers. You bent your head down by instinct, always trying to keep as much attention away from you as possible. It wasn’t like it was hard, no one really noticed you, ever.

“Ey, Jungkook!” A deep voice called out behind you and you glanced over to see Taehyung and Jungkook greeting each other per usual. They were part of one of the school’s most popular groups: BTS. The three youngest members, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook, were unfortunately in your class. Unfortunately, because their presence always sucked people in and you found yourself having to sometimes squeeze through crowds of people just to get out of your classroom. It was ridiculous how popular they were just for being handsome. Yes, you admitted that they were handsome, but you never just judged someone on looks. It wasn’t like they were always going around school, flirting with girls, but rumors about them dating new girls spread around school all of the time and you couldn’t help but partially believe in them. You weren’t necessarily uninterested in them, but you didn’t really want to get involved either. You felt like there would be too much trouble.

You quickly reached for your maths book and were in the process of closing the locker when you accidentally overheard the girls beside you whispering.

“Hey, you know that senior that Jungkook was rumored to be dating last week?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I just heard someone say that they broke up. I don’t know why though, but that means he’s back on the market. I can’t believe he left an older girl that was so pretty.”

You rolled your eyes, partially at the girls for gossiping and partially at Jungkook. A lot of rumours like that spread about him, way too often. You didn’t want to believe in all of them though, since he was so young and you’d never personally spoken to him, so you didn’t want to judge him too quickly.

You entered the classroom and sat at a desk in the very back, making you even more invisible than what you already were. Not too long after, the three members of BTS came in and sat near the front, where they usually took their seats. You discreetly glanced up at them and you caught Jungkook glancing back at you before you hastily averted your eyes, feeling a little embarassed at the eye contact. Why was he looking at you? You felt heat rise to your cheeks and mentally scolded yourself for it.

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2

Pack Mom | Derek Hale Imagine

request ; Hello can you an imagine about the reader/Derek being like a mother to the pack and they adoring that idk but yeah.😊

word count ; 1171

warnings ; fluff fluff fluff and like one swear word (bad liam)

a/n ; this request was perfect ty. 

You hadn’t really meant for it to happen, you becoming the unofficial mother of the entire pack. You were naturally caring, kind; and even though they weren’t even that much younger than you, you were extremely protective over the members of the pack. You were human, so you did whatever you could to try and help, and everyone loved you for it. 

You did it accidentally sometimes, the whole “mother” thing. It sort of happened. Like today, when you strolled inside Derek’s loft with your arms full of groceries and your keys in hand. Scott, Stiles, and Derek were all seated in the living room, chatting away about whatever supernatural creature thing was threatening the town now. Just a regular Tuesday, anyhow. 

“Boys, come help me with these, please,” you called, not really caring which boys stood up as long as someone took these ridiculously heavy bags out of your grasp. All three rushed over to you, Stiles and Scott relieving you of the groceries and Derek pecking you lightly on the lips after they did so. 

“Did you buys snacks? I need some cookies,” Stiles muttered the last part to himself, rifling through one of the bags with a determined expression. You gently smacked his hand away.

“Buy your own cookies then, it’s not Y/N’s job to buy you snacks. You don’t even live here,” Derek pointed out, sitting down at the kitchen island. You rolled your eyes at him, covering his mouth with your hand. 

“I shouldn’t have to buy you groceries either, except you never leave the apartment,” you said to him, patting his cheek. It was his turn to roll his eyes now, but your mother-like scolding was kind of adorable. You rounded on Stiles next, “And I don’t think you need anymore sugar.” 

“We are growing boys, Y/N,” Scott informed you, grinning in triumph when he pulled out a box of Chips Ahoy. You let them have it, and they retreated into the living room happily. Derek shook his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He cared about those two idiots a lot more then he let on, though. You knew that for sure.

“Make sure the two seven year olds in the living room don’t get crumbs on the couch for me, will you?” You smiled sweetly at Derek, who groaned but picked himself up from the chair and dragged himself into the living room. “Thank you, babe!” You called out as you busied yourself with unpacking. You heard the door to the loft open and shut loudly, a frustrated sigh following in suit. 

“Is that Isaac or Liam?” You asked, raising your voice a pitch so that Stiles could hear you as well. Whenever someone walked in moodily, it was either Isaac, Liam, or Derek, and the latter was in the living room.

“Liam,” they all chorused back, two voices muffled by the sound of the boys shoving more food into their mouths. 

“Come help me in here, Li? I need to ask you something!” You already knew something was up, maybe you could lighten the mood. You were already firing up the stove to make some tea when he walked in, throwing himself into a chair with another sigh. “So, bad day?” You turned to smile softly at him, letting him know you were being just a little sarcastic. Obviously he was having a bad day. He nodded, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. 

“Yeah, it’s nothing…” He went silent, and you waited patiently, because he was so about to spill everything to you. You had that effect on people. “Just some girl…she’s kind of hated me since the sixth grade and now she’s being kind of bitchy.” 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Need me to kick her ass?” You joked, leaning across the table and ruffling his hair affectionately. He grinned up at you, and you succeeded in tugging a smile out of the upset Beta. There we go, you thought cheerfully. He shook his head, still grinning. “Seriously, Liam, what’d you even to do her?” Suddenly uncomfortable, he shifted in his chair and put his head in his hands. You moved back to the stove, filling two mugs with tea and handing one to Liam, who took it gratefully.

“I might have broken her nose on picture day, but she broke mine, too! So really, it wasn’t even that bad!” He added hastily, not wanting you to think he was some kid who went around hitting girls. It was only the one time, and he couldn’t control his anger that well, and he would never even think about doing it again. Despite yourself, you laughed, and then slapped a hand over your mouth when you realized you shouldn’t have. 

“Jesus, Liam! Okay, I can see why she might be kind of mad still,” Liam stood up, about to just leave the room when he realized you were about to defend her. Quickly, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back into his seat. “But, I think you should just be nice to her and she’ll come around eventually. You’re a good kid, Liam.” You patted his hand, smiling at him again. 

Derek entered the room just then, arms folded. “Stiles said he loved you.”

“Did you threaten him again? Seriously, Derek. He doesn’t mean it in the girlfriend/boyfriend love way. He means it in the way you would tell your older sister or your mom.’ How many times do I have to explain this to you?” Derek wrapped an arm around your waist, playing with the ends of your hair. Liam sipped his tea awkwardly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Derek said absentmindedly, preoccupied with your hair. 

“I’m serious,” you said, poking his stomach lightly. “I love you a whole lot differently than I love the boys.” Derek went to speak again, but Liam interrupted him. 

“But I’m your favorite, right?” He put his mug down, staring at you intently. Derek muffled his laughter into your hair, and you pressed your lips together in an attempt to control the loud laughter that was threatening to spill from your lips. 

“Of course, Liam.” You said, patting him on the head fondly. He pecked you quickly on the cheek before rushing toward the living room, hollering at the top of his lungs about how he was your favorite. 

Two minutes later, right on schedule, the three boys were arguing in voices that probably carried throughout the entire loft about whether or not Liam was really your favorite. 

“They really are seven year olds,” Derek remarked quietly, kissing your temple and letting his forehead rest against your own. You nodded, interlacing your fingers with his. 

“Definitely,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him. He pulled away though, his expression curious. 

“I’m your real favorite, right, babe?” Derek asked. You rolled your eyes, pushing him in the direction of the living room. 

“Shut up, and go hang out with the other babies, Der. It’s where you truly belong.“ You turned to the stove once again, about to start on dinner when Derek decided to try again. ” 

“I was joking around!” There was silence. “But seriously, you love me the most, right?”

I really really want to hear the conversation that would go down between Annabeth and Magnus at the end of SoS, 

Magnus: So I’m half god. 

Annabeth: If you think that’s going to impress me, you’ve already lost. My Mum is Athena and she birthed me from her head. 

Magnus: Ok but I’ve got a friend who’s a dwarf and he makes Expandable Ducks and fashionable armor, he’s the son of the goddess of love. 

Annabeth: Mmm k, I’ve been hanging out with the children of Aphrodite since I was 7, the Hephaestus cabin make the weirdest things ever.

Magnus: I’ve met talking goats!

Annabeth: I run with Centaurs and Satyrs dude. 

Magnus: I’ve defeated a giant!

Annabeth: Dude you are so late to the game. 

Magnus: I died

Annabeth: I’ve been to the Underworld more times than I can count and also Tartarus so…

Magnus: I have a friend who can morph into different animals. 

Annabeth: I have a Frank

Magnus: Yeah but she has a hijaab that can make her basically invisable!

Annabeth: *pulls out Yankees cap

Magnus: I’ve fought a giant sea serpent, who is the older brother of my friend. 

Annabeth: That sounds like just a regular Tuesday morning to me. 

Magnus: Ok but, in einherjar we have dragons 

Annabeth: We have one at CHB too, and also I giant metal one attached to a boat we made one Summer. 

Magnus:…

Anabeth:…

Magnus: My sword talks!

Annabeth: Well that’s new  

lewdtwodudeswithfood  asked:

Btw reading that post about the guest and stevens shower scene and the bullshit the director made him go through, and after all that the scene wasn't even that good imo, it lasted like 2 sec :") str8 men don't know how to properly objectify other men

Also men just don’t have the stamina to be objectified because chugging Diet Coke and doing stress push ups is like, just a regular Tuesday for me. They’re WEAK

anonymous asked:

can we get some major hurt!stiles please!! i really crave your type of agony ^^''''

Okay, well… you asked for it! And it’s Sciles day so you can read this as Sciles bromance or straight romance if you’d like!

Warnings: torture, abuse, angst, hurt!stiles

*^*^*^

Tuesday 

It’s silly but the one thing Stiles remember is that it’s a Tuesday.

It’s a Tuesday and he’s done his exams early and he’s going to drive back to Beacon Hills tomorrow morning and then all he has to do is wait a week for Scott to finish his exams at Santa Barbara and then they will have a whole month of Christmas break. And, yes, as his dad says, they may text literally all the time and Skype at least four times a week (often for hours) but it’s not the same. It’s been two and a half years of college now but Stiles still looks forward to breaks more than anything.

So it’s a Tuesday and Stiles is somehow already counting down the days until he can plant himself on Scott’s couch and stay there until Mrs. McCall throws them both out. And then they will move to his house. Until his dad does the same. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Maybe his mind was already on video games or maybe he was going over the questions of the exam he just took or maybe he has just let his guard down because it’s been two years and it’s Stanford.

But, regardless of the reason, he doesn’t hear them until it’s too late.

Until there’s a flurry of movement and something hits his head and the world goes dark.


(Seriously, it’s a rather dark story, it ends happily but I would not qualify it as fluff. Do not feel the need to keep reading if that’s not your cup of tea!)

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Just a Regular Tuesday

killiansguyliner asks:  hey!!! Just like to say I really love go get your hart and I’m really looking forward to the final part :D just out of curiosity, how do you think lucas “prom-posed” to maya in high school? Thanks!:)

So this is a Go Get Your Hart Pre-Prequel  so you don’t have to have read the other installments of GGYH to read this, it’s really just a fun promposal fic! :)

A small fic in which: Farkle Minkus is absolutely done with his oblivious friends, Zay Babineaux has a radio show, and Maya Hart gets the surprise of her life from one Lucas Friar (who, let’s jut say’ has embraced his heritage.)

Also, if you like Lucaya from other people’s POV, you’ll like this as it’s from Farkle’s perspective which is interesting! :)

Let’s go!

.

.

“I can’t believe you’re actually going to do this.” Farkle says, shaking his head in amusement as Lucas rearranges the cowboy hat on his head. Lucas grins brightly at his friend as he adjusts the brim of the hat carefully in a classroom window, catching the eye of quite a few people looking at him from the inside, and only grinning wider at them all. Farkle stifles a snort as he can practically visibly see people in the room becoming charmed with Lucas, and all he’s done so far is smile.

Well, that’s probably all he really needs to do.

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I Hope You Understand

Title: I Hope You Understand

Genre: Angst, Illness

Word Count: 2, 953

Warnings: Cancer, mentions of vomiting (but not too much), kinda sorta talks about death (but no character death), idk man, it’s just really sad :/

Description: In which Dan does something unexpected, but honorable, while reminiscing Phil’s struggle with cancer.

Author’s Note: I may or not almost cried while writing this…Told in first-person perspective. (Please remember that this is fiction.)

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veteratorianvillainy  asked:

If you're still taking them, can I say that 'trapped in a bank during a robbery au' would be absolutely fantastic with sterek?

It’s just a regular Tuesday morning for Derek. He posts some letters, picks up a bolt for the bathroom door, and pops into the bank. He’s busy planning dinner in his head when there’s a loud pop, followed by several more, and three men in ski masks jump up onto the tables between the queue Derek’s in.

“Good morning everybody, this is a robbery! Now if nobody loses their head, nobody will lose their head. Simon says everybody lay down on the floor, right away, right away.”

Derek feels his mouth fall open in shock. People are shouting and starting to cry as they fall to their knees. A woman in front of him begins screaming, and the man in the mask that had been talking jogs over, “No, no, ma’am, try to stay calm, you’ll have a story to tell your friends at the end of this. People’ll invite you to dinner for weeks to hear about it.”

"Please—”

“Just get down on the floor, ma’am, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Despite the mild panic creeping up his spine, Derek snorts, and the guy hears it. 

Oh, fuck, he shouldn’t have done that. 

“Sir!” He moves to stand in front of Derek, claps a hand on his shoulder and Derek flinches. “Hey, number two, we got ourselves a standing volunteer!” Another man with a mask comes bounding, bounding, over, and half waves his machine gun in the first guy’s face. 

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh, he’s not impressed with our behaviour at all.”

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The Mothership

It’s late, so maybe some of you may not see this until the morning, but when I finish something I’ve always super excited to release it unto the world.  So here it is, the super long…super late request for a Harry Styles pregnancy one shot.

The title is a cheesy pun, leave me be. I love cheesy puns.

Now on with the show!

“Ah Ms. Styles,” the hostess beamed as you approached her, “your table is all ready. Shall we wait for–”

“No I think I’ll wait for him at the table,” you said in a rush, effectively cutting her off, “Just show him in when he gets here?”

Ever the professional, the hostess ignored your clearly nervous fidgeting and ushered you to your usual table at the back of the restaurant. It was a booth in the back corner over looking the bay all dotted with lights from the idling boats. It was the same place Harry had proposed to you all those years ago. He had been just as nervous then as you were now.

“Celebrating anything special?” the hostess probed gently as you slid behind the table.

You hastily took the menu from her to hide your face. You had never been great at lying. “Nope, just a regular Tuesday night!” your voice had pitched an octave from stress, “We’re not celebrating anything…just a regular night out for the Styles!”

The hostess didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push the issue. “Would you like for your waiter to bring out your usual Pinot Noir?”

“No!” you too quickly to be played off as causal. You frantically tried to backpedal as the hostess was eyeing you up and down, “I mean…could you just bring me a water for now? I’m so parched from the drive and…wine just sounds so heavy right now.”

“Yes of course. Tap or bottled Miss?”

“Tap is fine,” you sighed with relief as the hostess finally left you in peace. You were in deep trouble. You had nearly lost your cool in front of the hostess, there was no way you’d be able to remain calm in front of Harry. He’d see through you in 2 seconds.

“Y/N! Sorry I’m late” Harry brushed his lips against your cheek before sliding himself into the booth, apparently unaware at how you flinched, “I got held up at the studio.”

“It’s alright, I was late too,” you could feel your cheeks heating up at just how true those words were. The waiter chose that moment to arrive with your water, and you nearly knocked it over in your efforts to grab it.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked patiently as Harry pinned you with a strange look.

“Could you give us a couple of minutes?” Harry smiled politely at the waiter who nodded in leave. “Are you alright?” Harry asked turning his attention back to you, “You’re acting very strangely.”

“I uh…” you twisted your napkin between your hands, “There’s actually something I need to tell you…”

“Did something happen?” Harry leaned toward you, his voice filled with concern.

“Everything’s fine!” you said in a rush to Harry’s very visible relief, “It’s just…”

Everything was going to be fine. You just had to say it. But saying it would make it real, in a ‘no turning back’ sort of real, and everything between you and Harry was great and you didn’t want anything to change. But…

You let out a shaky sigh, “I know we talked about this before, and we agreed we’d wait a couple more years until we were both ready but…I’m pregnant.”

You bit the inside of your lip waiting for Harry’s reaction. He fallen into a sort of stunned silence. His gaze was locked on something that seemed very far away and he had gone slightly pale.

“Harry?” you asked nervously, “I know we didn’t plan this but…please say something.”

“Pregnant,” the simple work slipped from Harry’s lips.

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