lame brains


              Heavens. I had made Cersei on a whim the night of I got internet. I literally had nothing but a few pictures and a keyboard and like..maybe 2 followers? Cersei literally showed up out of no where and demanded that I love her, and it’s been a wild ride ever since. I’ve met so many people, written so many things, and Cersei and I have been through so much together. And I’m just thankful for every single moment that had happened, every single person I’ve met, and every heart wrenching and cute things our muses have been through.

        Really it wouldn’t have been such an awesome ride without every single one of you, and I’m so thankful for you all. I know I’m terrible with having constant productivity but thank you for putting up with it. For putting up with the mess that I am and my random days where all I do is jack around doing nothing but reblogging pretty pictures. (how do you put up with me) 

         Beneath the cut is some very special shout outs to those I could never be without. Please I ask early on that you forgive me if I miss anyone. I have a terrible memory and there is just so MANY of you. ohmygosh. I can never be thankful enough. I love you all, my lovelies!

Keep reading

Tonight, tonight 

It all began tonight 

Originally posted by coldtomyflash

I saw you and the world went away

Originally posted by momomoon

Tonight, tonight 

There’s only you tonight 

Originally posted by coldsflash

What you are, what you do, what you say

Originally posted by coldsflash


Sorry but I couldn’t help myself!  In response to the de-aged Oro ask:

It starts subtly, as most things of the snakey persuasion do. In Kakashi’s defense, the days immediately after Lady Hokage handed him a fun-sized version of Konoha’s Number 1 Most Wanted claiming it absolutely wasn’t punishment (and flashing a saccharine smile that said yes, yes it was) were… ah… unusual. Unnerving. Terrifying.

(Insane mass murderers were par for the course considering Kakashi was a ninja but this was a tiny mass-murderer to be. A creepy tiny murder nugget in his house and hasn’t Kakashi already paid his dues? Hasn’t his own crack at teaching pacified Minato-sensei’s ghost? Or is this Kushina-san’s retribution? It seems like a thing she’d do.)

So in light of the fact that walking into his kitchen to find Killy McShrimpy carefully emptying 6 year old seasonings into the sink to make room for powdered extract of melt-your-trachea was Kakashi’s new normal, he might be forgiven for taking a day or two to notice the scarf.

“He’s cold?” Kakashi offers a bit lamely. His lizard brain would light up in gibbering terror at Sakura and Ino’s matching expressions, if not for the fact that SlaughterLite now shared his bathroom and ‘gibber’ was a fairly standard state. “Snakes are cold blooded?”

“That’s definitely not it,” Sakura declares, and Ino immediately agrees. What are you doing here, Kakashi wonders. Don’t you have a life? You should get one. Somewhere else. Please. Kakashi is viciously disappointed in the Yamanaka’s clear inability to read his mind.

(StabbyMeal, as if made of nothing but spite, tugs his dark blue scarf more firmly across his nose. Both women make a soppy, sloshy kind of sound. Kakashi hopes they’re not contagious.)

Another half hour of pokes and prods and chakra twisted in simply unnatural ways and Sakura declares him a perfectly normal 6 year old. And worse, Ino declares him a perfectly normal 6 year old. Apparently its now a thing where they won’t lock you up for literally all the illegal if you just don’t remember doing it, and also are now a 6 year old.

“Are you sure?” He whines. Nobody pays him any attention. Instead they are patting murdercheeks and stroking murderhair and exclaiming enviously over tiny perfect murdereyelashes. Psycholet endures it with the longsuffering patience of something that routinely uses it’s shiny scales to tempt honest folk close enough to stab in the back. (Well. At least that Kakashi doesn’t have to worry about any more. Mid-thigh at best.)

And so the sudden incidence of scarves wound around half a tiny head is barely a blip on the radar.

But then there’s the shirt.

(What? No. Why?)

“Sensei was saving it to make a quilt as a wedding gift, if you ever got married,” Tenten explains as if that made any of this any better at all. (It doesn’t, even a little bit. And Kakashi had thought she was the sensible one.)

“What? No. Why?”

“You probably threw it away when you grew out of it,” Tenten continues, as if picturing Gai rummaging through his garbage instead of breaking into his house and raiding his storage made any of this better at all. “And since sensei had planned to use it in celebration of a new chapter in your life…”

What? No. Why?

It’s bagged, and stamped with a date that would have put Kakashi at 7 years old. He feels distinctly stalked.

Naturally, Nightmare on Sesame Street loves it.

It’s a size and a half too big for him, just enough for him to weaponize the air of waifishness loitering about his skinny arms and neck, but still small enough that the tiny built in mask doesn’t slide down his face. Tenten and Sakura and Ino all make the sloshy noise. It is contagious after all.

“You look just like Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura chirps in that one voice that means evil and humiliation. The Tadpole of Death turns bright, bright red. Kakashi isn’t quite sure, but something tells him up to that moment he had yet to taste true terror.

(What? No.)

Your nightmares have been coming back. You try your best to hide it, to force yourself awake before your thrashing and heavy breathing wakes up any of the other gladers. You try to stop. Tonight you couldn’t, tonight the terror in your mind was taking over your uttermost being and no matter how hard you tried to force yourself free and wake yourself up you couldn’t. As the terror sets in, trapped in your nightmares, you feel someone shaking you, you feel yourself coming back into consciousness. You jolt awake, Newt hovering above you with a worried expression.

“Are you okay love?” He whispers, pulling you into his arms and rubbing your back, “you are here with me, you are safe,” he whispers to calm you.
Newt stays up with you all night, talking out your fears and helping calm your anxieties despite his full lack of sleep because he is more worried about you than his own well being. He brushes your hair out of your face, touching you so gently as if afraid to break you.

In the morning Newt refuses to admit he is exhausted, and refuses to let you apologize for keeping him up. As Newt goes out to help Alby with the crops he grips his staff to steady his tired body, nodding along to Alby’s words as his eyes start to droop. His hands slide down the staff, muscles weakening as sleep threatens him even as he is standing.

“What is with you?” Alby hits Newt on the side of his head to wake him. “Wake up you shank.”

Nick Clark x Reader- Mine

Requested by Anon

Set during Season One


It had been a rough seven years, forced to live on the streets since your teenage years and reducing yourself down to nothing when you started smoking. Granted, it wasn’t the hard stuff, but your smoking habit was how you met Nick Clark. And here you were, years later, still dating when most couples would’ve been married at that point. 

He wasn’t the devilish prince charming your parents would’ve wanted for you, but you loved him more because of it. He was sweet, always looking out for you when you got in with the wrong people, and had claimed multiple times he’d die for you. 

When the world ended, you found yourself at Nicks childhood home, after a rather bad quarrel about his time with Gloria, who turned into a walker. Or what other people liked to call, rotters, skin eaters, lame brains… Blah blah blah. You had been infuriated Nick had turned to her, but it was all for the drugs. That was all he cared about anymore.

Alicia gently knocked on your door, feigning a smile as you sat up in the bed. “Are you and my brother having relationship drama?” She mused. “He’s a mess, Y/N. I know Nick, and I know his heart. If he cheated on you, it wasn’t intentional. You are one of the reasons he’s still living and I can’t thank you enough for it.” 

Your heart felt like it was dying, like you had been living for thousands of years and was just beginning to die. “I love your brother, however stupid he may be, I still love him. I just don’t want to get hurt again.” 

  “He made a vow to my mom and Travis that he was done with drugs, for you. I’d say that’s a pretty solid promise.” 

Part of you wanted to go back to seven years ago, where you had been young and impressionable, and Nick was just his stupid self, with that smile you adored and those eyes that never stopped staring at you. 

Your covered feet padded along the carpet as you crept out of the bedroom and slid into Nicks, gently shutting the door behind you. It was just after ten, and he was already fast asleep spread out on his bed. A smile spread across your face as you climbed on top of him, lowering your lips to his. 

His eyes instantly shot open at the familiar body, the smell of jasmine that lingered on your skin as his hands weaved into your long y/h/c locks. “Y/N.” He breathed, gasping as he flipped you over so he was now on top of you. “I’m sorry, for everything-” 

You pressed a finger against his lips, pulling your hair into a bun which gave him full access to the bare skin that your teeshirt didn’t hide, dipping down to just beneath your collarbone. “Don’t talk.” A breathy gasp escaped your lips as his cold hand ran down your leg, his lips pressed against your jawline. “I love you.” 

  “I love you more, Juliet.” 

That next day, the military came back inside the Safe Zone for their daily run. You sat out on the lawn and watched as their armored trucks passed Madisons house, until one stopped and two men came right towards you. “I swear if you try to take me away, I can guarantee you that you won’t be having kids with any woman who’s still alive.” 

The man on the left with the name tag Carte stitched into his uniform smirked, outstretching a hand towards you. “Was that subtle flirting, Miss Y/L/N?” He questioned, lightly resting a hand on your hip. A shiver went down your spine as he traced circles on your skin, his thumb just inches away from the bottom of your crop top. “C’mon babe, there’s some abandoned houses down the street-” 

Nick chose that time to exit the house, dressed in his old man rags and snickering as you slapped the soldier across the face so hard that your hand left a print on his sunkissed skin. “You are disgusting and undeserving of that uniform.” You snarled. Before you could continue chewing out the soldier, Nick came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

  “Hate to break it to you man,” His voice was calm as you turned in his embrace and hid your face in his shoulder. “But this girl right here? She’s mine.” 


I hope you liked this! Please keep sending in more requests! 

ladyk18  asked:

I can't get the idea of Skull being Reborns illegitimate child out of my head >.< like Reborn was 15 and he just started his career as a hitman and he was high after a successful hit and slept with this gorgeous purple haired lady and left her pregnant with Skull. Fast forward 17yrs later and Skull, curious about his father puts his stunt career on hold to track down this 'Reborn' fellow that put a bun in his moms oven then left. He meets a strange man who tells him if he goes to a meeting he

(2/?) will meet his dad. And that’s how Skull becomes the cloud arcobaleno. Meanwhile reborn is confused about the lame brain rookie of the group that reminds him of something, which pisses him off to the point he becomes aggressive and takes out his anger on his new ‘lackey’. Skull meanwhile thinks Reborns a jerk and he really doesn’t like him, especially since he keeps removing his helmet, which Skull wears to hide his black eyes since contacts hurt after a while.

(3/3) Of course much much later on after the curse was broken Reborn finds out about Skull being his kid and tries to form a relationship with his son since family means a lot to him, only Skull has way to much survival instinct and does not want an abusive father thank you very much. The other arcobaleno and maybe the Vongola watch with popcorn and rather horrid advice as the worlds greatest hitman stumble into the forays or parenthood.

Oh wow, this is just a mess of a relationship. Kawahira’s a manipulative ass, seriously 17 and already an Arcobaleno? And of course, Reborn’s beating him up left right and center, and when the truth finally comes out, no way will Skull want anything to do with his ‘dad’.

And can you imagine Tsuna’s reaction? He knows all about shitty fathers - he’s got one of his own - and Reborn may be his tutor but there’s no way he’s going to condone abuse, so he helps Skull hide whenever Reborn tries to track him down. And Reborn’s just so frustrated with everything because he’s new with this whole dad thing, and he already got off on a ridiculously wrong foot with his son, and the rest of the Arcobaleno are absolutely useless with their ‘advice’.

And Tsuna and Xanxus invite Skull to join their Crap Fathers United Club to commiserate about the worthlessness of fathers everywhere;)


“My old man lied about my entire life and put me on a career path that was never even fucking possible to begin with. I spent all those years preparing to become Decimo for nothing.”

"Yeah, well my dad was never even around to so much as warn me about the mafia in general. I didn’t even recognize who he was when he showed up at the door when I was eight. And he stayed for three days before leaving again, and I never saw him again until you Varia nutjobs showed up.”

"Shut up, trash. Don’t think I won’t kill you just because you’re drunk.”

“Bite me.”

“Neither of you have it as bad as me. My- I can’t even say it. Reborn smacked me around for over ten years. He’s literally been trying to kill me since he met me!”

"…Yeah okay, we can’t really top that.”

“Want us to fuck with that scum a little? I could always do with a workout. And if we end up killing him, the Vongola’s reputation will never be stronger.”

“Really?  Can I help?”

“Are you both crazy? Reborn will kill us.”

I’d like to see him try, the stuntman trash over here is already used to that, you’re also already used to that - I don’t see the problem.”

“…Oh what the hell, why not?  Reborn’s not exactly in my good books right now.  But we’re not killing him.”


anonymous asked:

My birthday was today but no one remembered, everything sucks rn.

Oh, sweetheart. I am so sorry. Would it cheer you up if I wrote you a little birthday fic, from me to you? I know it might not help much but I think you are important and amazing and that you deserve all the birthday love in the world, okay? *snuggles you so tight*

I went through a list of otp prompts and found this : “Right… Well… I’m not sure how we ended up kissing like that…” I hope it makes you smile.

It’s the same fight they’ve had a thousand times before. Derek is refusing to be a normal human being and Stiles, despite his very best efforts (see: bribery pie) is no closer to his goal than he was nine and a half hours ago.

“Listen, buddy, I don’t know why you think you are above this but you’re not. It’s my dad’s retirement party. He is, literally, retiring, and he will be gutted if his favourite deputy isn’t there. Gutted, Derek. No, wait, more than gutted. Devastated. Betrayed. He will feel betrayed, probably cry himself to sleep, you great big unfeeling lummox of hard muscle!”

Derek raises an eyebrow, slowly putting down his book. There is a scowl adorning his stupidly beautiful face and Stiles huffs, rolling his eyes, pretending he doesn’t find it the least bit sexy. He’s spent the last ten years suppressing his crush on Derek Hale and he’s not about to start slipping up now just because his bribery pie got rejected. Stiles looks at it now, in the trash. Poor thing never even stood a chance.  

“Great big unfeeling lummox of hard…muscle?” Derek repeats, raising his other eyebrow. “Wow, Stiles, as far as insults go, I have to say, that’s a keeper. Make sure to write that one down.”

Stiles throws his hands in the air, flinging himself into the nearest chair. He sighs. “I will never understand you.”


Stiles narrows his eyes, torn between wanting to punch Derek square in the jaw and comb his fingers through his hair. It’s an unsettling combination and flexing his fingers, Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and groans.  

“You know, you’re not as unreadable as you think,” he says, after a moment, waiting.

Derek picks his book back up, flicking through it until he finds his page again. It’s not even upside down, which just infuriates Stiles further.

“You pretend to be this unfeeling, scary guy,” he tries instead, “who cares about nothing and finds everyone annoying but you’re lonely. I know you’re lonely, Derek. I see it in the way you look at my dad when Melissa brings him his lunch every Friday, or when Boyd holds Erica’s hand after every shitty rescue mission she asks to be made part of because she can never help herself. I see things, dude, so please, just stop –”

The kiss, as they say (whoever “they” ever is), comes out of nowhere.

One moment, Stiles is gesturing with his hands, getting ready for the big, grand finale of his speech (which, yeah, he will admit, he might have been practising in his head for the past two years) and the next, he has a lapful of Derek and a very warm mouth pressed against his.

Derek doesn’t kiss like Stiles thought he would; where he expected spice, he gets sweet and where he expected bite, he gets…he gets slow, cautious, scared. Derek is hesitant, practically shaking, and a better guy might break off the kiss, push him away, but all Stiles manages to do is wrap his arms around Derek and pull him closer.

He’s wanted this for so long and now he’s finally been invited to the party, he doesn’t know what to do. It helps that Derek doesn’t seem to know what to do either, his hands fumbling at Stiles’ shoulders, his tongue unsure, like he’s afraid he might get rejected if he tries to explore. Stiles isn’t sure what’s making Derek so nervous; they are both adults, after all. Sure, there is the little matter he is still technically Derek’s boss’ son but isn’t that supposed to, like, maximize the hotness?

Trying to remember how to breathe (because Stiles is still pretty sure oxygen is still necessary for kissing, even if you are certain your partner was created by Venus herself) he parts his lips, opening up, sliding one hand up and into Derek’s hair, letting him know it’s okay.

I want this.

Derek makes a sound, like a small child or animal, that Stiles doesn’t know what to do with. All he knows it goes straight to his heart (and possibly a little to his dick). He can’t tell if Derek is terrified, has somehow managed to avoid kissing anyone ever before now (which, woah, totally does nothing else to his dick) or he just needs reassurance and pulling back, just a little, he tries to read his face.

There is a blush on Derek’s cheeks Stiles has never seen before and he watches, several times, as Derek tries to look down but at the last moment doesn’t quite manage it. Stiles doesn’t know what that means either and leaning in again, presses a brief, closed kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth.

“Was that good for you?” he asks, because he’s apparently nervous too (and also quite possibly a love sick idiot whose lame ass brain to mouth filter never lets slip anything even remotely cool or sexy in his greatest times of need).

Derek coughs, fidgeting, but to Stiles relief, doesn’t stand up. “I’m…not exactly sure how that happened.”

“Do you…want it to happen again?” Stiles asks, biting his lip, feeling bold.

Derek nods, just once, and reaching for his hands, Stiles brings them up, cupping them around his face, lacing their fingers together. Derek smiles sweetly, relieved maybe, and Stiles’ breath stutters. He’s had his fair share of relationships but never…

“I hope you don’t think I’m being manipulative or anything but…if you come to my dad’s party, I promise to make out with you the whole night. I’ll even score us some of those prawn cracker things you love so much, throw in a glass of milk because you’re a dweeb who prefers milk to even coffee.”

Derek snorts but it’s undermined by flash of surprise that crosses his face, the red in his cheeks darkening. “I…um…do like prawn crackers…and milk, I suppose.”

Please tell me not as the same time though.”

Derek barks a laugh. “Sure.”

“So….that’s a….yes? You’ll go to the terrible party with all the terrible people rather than make it up to my dad later?”

Frowning, Derek looks away, closing off again. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, I just….”

“…don’t want to go?” Stiles finishes, grinning. “Dude, I promise, I’ll hold your hand the whole time. It’s just…my dad thinks a lot of you, know you? He wants you to take over this place, someday. He doesn’t call just anyone ‘son’, you know.” He pauses. “Not that I am implying my dad has been secretly trying to match make us or anything. In fact, I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re too good for me.”

Another flash of surprise appears on Derek’s face. “I’m not good enough for anybody.” He runs his nose along Stiles’ jaw, breathing him in. “And you’re too good for everybody.”

Stiles laughs. “Now, I know that’s a lie.”

Derek shrugs. “Not a lie to me. You don’t have to be good to be good.

Stiles’ breath stutters again. No one has ever called him good before. It’s weird, like someone is telling him two plus two equals five, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. “You really don’t know how much you mean to us Stilinski’s, do you?” he asks, shaking his head, fondly.

Derek frowns, looks away again, but Stiles follows him, tilting his head back. He looks scared and Stiles can’t help it, he takes Derek’s hand, turns it, kisses the palm. “Especially to me. Even if you have ruined at least half of my potential relationships by arresting me on the first date.”

“Who chooses breaking and entering as a first date?”

“I’m a bad boy, what can I say.” Stiles waggles his eyebrows, rejoicing when it pulls a reluctant, amused smile from Derek. He can count on one hand how many times he’s gotten Derek to smile like that.

“Is that why you always chose my apartment to break into, then?”

Stiles shrugs, purses his lips. “I had to get your attention, somehow, didn’t I?”  he whispers. “Plus, I’m totally and utterly gone on you, what can I say.

Derek’s smile widens, almost predatory, before he stutters, “I’m…ditto.”

Swallowing, Stiles leans in closer. “Hey, it’s still early. Wanna make out with me in one of the holding cells? That’s always been a fantasy of mine.”

The blush that comes back in full force on Derek’s face is beautiful and Stiles can’t help but nip at it, following it down Derek’s neck, wondering just how far it goes…

“Okay,” Derek says, wheeling both of them back to his desk, grabbing his keys, “but just so you know, if you ask me to handcuff you, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” He winks, albeit a little shyly, and Stiles throws his head back laughing, perhaps a little hysterically because oh god, the sexy, cute combination? Yeah, not fair, man.

“Sir, yes, sir,” he grins, kissing Derek again.