lie to himself

hockeystix  asked:

zimbits. “Less homicidal thoughts about your annoying coworker right now, please. I’m in a meeting over here.” pLEASE

Charlie asked for this about 30 years ago but I’m just getting around to it now. It’s prompt from this list. 


If he thinks I’m going to let a single tart anywhere near his ruinous Trump-sized hands he’s got another thing coming. Actually, no. He can have as many tarts as he wants. Kill ‘em with kindness, and arsenic worked into the whipped cream. I’d have to add more vanilla to balance it out but–

If Jack wasn’t in a sponsorship meeting, he would be inclined to promptly bash his head into the wood of the table. It had been like this for a few weeks ago, a voice filtering in at the most inopportune times, going on diatribes against who he was presuming was the voice’s coworker (”–even the way he counts out change is annoying. The Lord is testing me. We should’ve kept the antique register, it would have hurt more when I ‘accidentally’ shut the drawer on his fingers that he just licked to count out the bills. Yes, I would LOVE my spit covered change. THANK YOU.”)

Unfortunately, Jack thought it was unlikely that NIKE would appreciate their new brand ambassador actively giving himself a concussion, so he shot the representative across the table a smile and nodded to whatever was being said before reverting back inside his head.

As ambitious as your assassination attempt is, if you could keep it to yourself I would appreciate it.

There wasn’t even a moments pause before he got his reply.

Keep reading

Imperfect Pair (05)

Originally posted by holdmettightbts

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook, Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 12.5k

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, ArrangedMarriage!AU

A/n: My heart feels heavy ending the series. I grew so attached to one of the characters (I’m sure you can guess which one by the end), and it makes me sad to end their story here. Thank you for reading it and expressing your thoughts about it, it means a lot to me.

Series: 01|02|03|04|05|Epilogue

Description: The government is in charge of matching everyone up with a partner, the person they believe you are the most compatible with. You get assigned Jungkook, who looks perfect on his profile and even more perfect in person. You are later reminded however, that perfection does not exist, and not everything in life will go as planned.

  Dreams of This

                Taehyung stared into the darkness of his room, his back pressed against the wall as he tried to get some sleep, his thoughts forbidding him from resting. He wanted to drop it and drift off, but you wouldn’t leave his mind, and not in the same way you had occupied it in the days prior. The images of your smile, your laugh, of the way you looked at him, were all replaced now with your look of disappointment, the sadness within your eyes deepening. He knew you thought no one could see, and maybe you were right, maybe no one could, at least anyone besides him.

                ‘I’m mad because you lied.’

               What in the world was he supposed to have done? How could have he have told you? Of course it had occurred to him to mention it, to tell you what had gone on between them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Despite that you wanted to act like Jade didn’t bother you it was so evident that she did, whether you meant to show it or not. He knew he would have to one day but he thought he had more time, and after instructing the guys not to let it slip he was sure you wouldn’t find out from anyone other than him.

He didn’t think Jungkook would bring it up, at least not before he himself got the chance to.

               If she doesn’t like liars, he thought, she shouldn’t get too close to him.

Keep reading

FUCK YOU - [ JIKOOK ]

Originally posted by gayjikookadi


In which you have the first sentence your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your shoulder, Jimin’s being “Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh”.

Even though Jungkook doesn’t have as bad luck as Jimin does, he isn’t completely satisfied with his “Fuck you” tattoo either.




Jimin had been only three when his mother had told him about soulmates for the first time. He could remember it like it happened just yesterday. That was how clear the memory was.

“Jimin,” she’d said, sitting him down on his bed with an intense look in her eyes. “In your life, you will meet one person who is unlike anyone else. You’ll feel a pull towards them - the first time you lock eyes, you will feel like you’re suddenly whole again, after feeling like you’ve been missing something, no, someone your whole life.

You’ll know them when you meet, but if you ever doubt yourself, a tattoo will appear on your shoulder when you turn five. The first words they’ll ever say to you will be carved into your skin until the day your soulmate says them to you, the very day you’ll first talk to each other.”

Here, she smiled. Like she was remembering something amazing, something special. “And when you meet them, Jimin, don’t you ever let them go. If you lose them, you will feel broken again, and you will lose your will to live and die. Don’t you ever let them go.”

Jimin had thought that the first words his soulmate would say to him would be beautiful and poetic, that the words he would get would be something he could treasure.

Boy, was he wrong.

On his fifth birthday, his whole family gathered around the little boy. On the precise time he’d been born, his shoulder had started to bloom with a numbing pain, just like he’d been told multiple times before.

It took ten minutes - twenty, tops - until the feeling had finally started to fade. That was when he got the courage to glance at the tattoo resting on his collarbone.

“Mom, what’s a boner?” He had asked, as innocent as a lamb, after reading the sentence. She’d gasped harshly, as had most of his relatives, then took a look at his shoulder.

Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh.

At the time, he had no idea what a ‘morning boner’ was, but as the seasons changed and the years passed, he found out exactly what it meant.

And Jimin started to wish that soulmates didn’t exist, so badly that he almost believed it.

Almost.

Because no matter how hard he tried to lie to himself, the truth was that he had the tattoo on his shoulder, and it would never change. And honestly, Jimin couldn’t help hating his soulmate just a bit for it.


***

Jimin pulled the oversized black and white striped shirt over his head and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The shirt left quite a bit of shoulder exposed, and he sighed as he traced a finger over the words. The black letters looked harsh on Jimin’s tan skin, and it made him cringe.

He’d gotten used to the tattoo over the years, but his friends hadn’t. Because of his (stupid) soulmate, he’d become the butt of fifty too many jokes, and, whenever his friends laughed, he wanted to break the nose of whoever would be brash enough to say this.

Stupid soulmates.

Jimin had sworn, when he’d been seventeen and incredibly annoyed after a particularly harsh (but slightly funny) joke, that the first thing he’d say to his soulmate when he met them, no matter who they were, would be a big “fuck you”.

That was what he thought about as he squeezed a generous amount of thick foundation on his fingers and started to spread it on his tattoo. His friends were bad enough; he didn’t need any strangers seeing it at today’s party, which was being hosted but the richest and most arrogant brat on the whole campus. Probably the whole freaking world.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jimin didn’t know the guy - hell, he hadn’t even talked to him - but he already didn’t like him. He was handsome and rich, and he definitely knew it. Jimin only had agreed to go to the stupid thing because his best friend, Hoseok, had convinced him to. In fact, Hoseok wanted Jimin to go with him so he could hook him up with Yoongi, Jimin’s other best friend. Not an exciting prospect, honestly.

“Jimin, come on! We’re going to be late!” Hoseok yelled through the bathroom door, banging on the wood with heavy fists. It was ten o’clock in the evening, and Hoseok was eager to meet with Yoongi, who would (hopefully) be his date for the night.

“Shut up, I’m coming,” Jimin mumbled, putting the foundation away when his tattoo was covered up the way it was supposed to be. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, glaring. Hoseok knew he hated being rushed, and his roommate gave him an innocent smile.

Hoseok was dressed in black skinny jeans and a plain white top, a blazer and sneakers thrown on for good measure. Very billionaire-playboy-chilling-with-a-glass-of-scotch.

“Woah, you look good”, he complimented him, and Jimin’s glare turned into a smile. He’d parted his hair to reveal his forehead, and even though he wasn’t the most confident person, he felt good about the way he looked for once.

“Now, can we go?” Hoseok pleaded, with big doe eyes for effect, and Jimin sighed.

“Fine, let’s get this over with,” he mumbled, grabbing a pair of black boots. Hoseok watched him pull them on, and Jimin muttered, “Calm down,” just when he was pulled out the door.

***

“Oh my God, I’m so nervous, I think I’m going to puke. I think I look green, do I look green?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. Hoseok had been rambling for the past half hour, while they walked to the mansion where the party was supposed to be.

“You’ll be just fine, don’t worry. He might seem a bit cold, but I swear he’s all rainbows and unicorns inside,” Jimin said, doing his best to pry his best friend’s claws off his shirt (it was a gift, after all). He snickered when Hoseok kept muttering, ‘oh my God,’ as they arrived. The house was a mansion, almost as grand as Gatsby’s. What else would you expect from a rich brat?

As they made their way to the front door, Jimin started to look around. Yoongi had promised to be here; he owed Jimin a favor, which was why he had agreed to be Hoseok’s date for tonight. Otherwise he probably would’ve just stayed home, writing music in the almost-dark as usual (Yoongi’s dream was to be a famous rapper).

When Jimin finally spotted him, lounging near a wall with a stereotypical red solo cup in his hand, he grabbed Hoseok’s hand and started making his way towards the dark-haired man. Hopefully, he wouldn’t move before they got there.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, that’s Yoongi right there, oh my God, he looks so good”, Hoseok repeated the words like they were the only thing keeping him alive. It was a good thing the music was so loud, otherwise Yoongi would’ve heard. Hoseok was right, Jimin admitted to himself. Yoongi was dressed in all black, with a snapback pulled over his eyes, like in all of his rap videos.

Jimin pushed Hoseok towards Yoongi, who had noticed them and was now standing up straight. Jimin winked and gave Hoseok a thumbs up before he melted into the crowd.

He didn’t need to be a third wheel for the whole night. No, he’d much rather spend his time with some good ol’ shots of strong, liver-killing alcohol. Jimin wasn’t someone who drank often, but his choices were a) be sober and painfully alone or b) be alone and roaring drunk.

Not a hard choice, really.

He found his way to the alcohol and poured himself six shots with a smile on his face. Now that’s what we are talking about. He downed his first shot after he found himself a place to sit (he wasn’t planning on being in any condition to stand for much longer). From his spot, he could see almost everyone in the giant room. His eyes skipped over people until he saw someone he really didn’t want to.

The host of the party. None other than Jeon Jungkook himself.

Jimin scoffed. He was leaning back on the couch, girls and guys surrounding him with a girl in a silvery-blue dress on his lap. Jeon threw his head back in laughter.

He downed the second shot the moment he saw that stupid rich brat sucking faces with another student (wasn’t he Namjoon?). He was nowhere near drunk enough to see that. Another shot disappeared, burning its way down his throat.

A weird feeling bubbled in his chest as he watched the two suck each other’s souls out. He couldn’t quite give the emotion a name, but it felt a lot like… jealousy? No fucking way. Jimin almost laughed out loud at his thoughts, downing a fourth shot. They didn’t even know each other.

The rest of the night was a blur, but he was fairly certain he had ended up drinking way more than six shots. It resulted in some awkward interactions with other students, who were nearly as drunk as him, and of course, he had blacked out on the mansion’s floor before the party had even finished. He could’ve sworn he had seen Yoongi and Hoseok get along well. Of course, if your definition of getting along was kissing rather shyly in a secret corner.  

***

Jungkook saw the boy in the striped shirt the moment he’d walked in.

His silver hair that reflected the light perfectly, his plump lips that he bit when he tried not to laugh - every single thing about him seemed to draw him in. He’d come with someone who looked incredibly nervous, was that his boyfriend? His eyebrows furrowed, ever so slightly, and he shook his head. Why did he care? It was none of his business.

Still, his gaze followed him (wasn’t his name Park Jimin, or something?) intently as he navigated his way through the people in the party, until they reached a guy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere than here. The silver-haired male pushed his friend - something Jungkook had just realized -  towards the guy who had been leaning on the wall. He was short, like Jimin.

Jungkook watched Jimin slip into the crowd, the two boys left looking awkwardly at each other. He rolled his eyes. The two clearly liked each other; what was so hard about talking to each other and actually sharing a conversation instead of awkward, yearning glances?

Jungkook tried to find Jimin, but it was like he’d disappeared into thin air. Had he left? A weird feeling of desperation flushed through the Jungkook as he moved to sit on the couch, people crowding to sit around him. He spotted Jimin a few minutes after, sitting alone with a tray of shots in front of him. Jungkook watched him drink shot after shot, and grinned at the cute way he scrunched up his nose after every single one.

Woah, cute??

Time to move on.

Jungkook turned towards the group he was sitting with, mostly to Namjoon, who sat right next to him. Namjoon was good-looking, he couldn’t deny that, but why didn’t his dimples make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Why didn’t his smile make his stomach flip like Jimin’s smile did? Would Namjoon’s lips make Jungkook feel the way he felt when he saw Jimin?

That was what went through his mind as he leaned towards the platinum-haired male and captured their lips in a kiss that Jungkook found anything but passionate. He could taste alcohol in Namjoon’s mouth, and it most definitely didn’t make butterflies fly around his insides.

He felt like throwing up when he finally pulled away. That was their first and last kiss, Jungkook decided right then and there.

He bolted up from his seat and headed towards the bar - because alcohol was exactly what he needed to drown his feelings.

All Jungkook could remember after that was downing way too much whiskey, keeping his hands to himself way too little, and getting way, way too drunk.

***

Jimin let out a groan as he forced his eyes open, then let out another when he screwed them shut again. The sun was high up already, and the room  was annoyingly, incredibly bright.

There was an ogre in his head, kicking his brain and making everything tremble as revenge for last night. He almost wished he’d stayed at the dorms, cuddling into a fuzzy blanket while reading a good book. But the feeling of being carefree, being completely weightless, was worth the headache. And the nausea.

Jimin shifted to his side. There was something warm and soft, and he burrowed into that soft something, letting out a content sigh. That soft something smelled really nice, pine and cologne and something else, and he breathed in deeply.  After a few minutes of being comfortable, he heard a rumbly voice rasp entirely too close to his ear.

“Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh,” the person groaned. The way his voice scraped around the edges made heat flood in his chest, like slipping into a warm blanket.

Jimin whined and nuzzled his face into the soft material, mumbling a small “fuck you,” as he did. A few seconds later, the soft something, or someone disappeared, and he hit his head on the cold, hard floor.

His headache split his head in half.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He yelped, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the tiniest hint of a pout on his lips. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he jumped, nearly six feet in the air.

Jeon Jungkook was sitting in front of him, all messy dark hair and eyes that sparkled in the sun. Jimin’s heart jumped into overdrive.

“What did you just say to me?” Jungkook questioned, leaning forward ever so slightly, which made Jimin lean backward ever so slightly.

“Um, ‘fuck you’?” Jimin suggested carefully, playing with his hands and looking at his lap.

“Oh my God,” Jungkook mumbled. Jimin’s eyes turned into saucers when he started to take his shirt off.

“W-What do you think you’re doing?” he stuttered, failing miserably at trying to sound annoyed. Moments later, a sigh slipped past his lips at the image of Jungkook shirtless, the sun hitting his skin like he was a god.

And no, it wasn’t because of Jungkook’s toned chest or abs, not even his arms or beautiful golden skin, but because of the tattoo on his shoulder. Exactly where Jimin’s was. Exactly where the soulmate tattoo was supposed to be.

Fuck you.

“Are you kidding me?” Jimin snickered, his nervousness vanishing. He traced a finger over the words, curling black on golden skin, and nearly smiled when he felt Jungkook shiver. “Does that mean you actually just said ‘excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh’?”

Jungkook’s cheeks turned rosy, the prettiest shade of pink Jimin had ever seen, and he looked down on his lap when he nodded. For once, not the arrogant, spoilt brat. “Sorry about that,” he said, “it must’ve not been a very nice thing to have on your shoulder.”

But Jimin didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about any of that, anymore.

He had finally found his soulmate, his missing piece, and my God, was he beautiful.

“You stupid, rich brat,” Jimin smiled, carefully leaning towards Jungkook. His lips curved into a soft smile, headache long forgotten.

“You stupid shortie,” Jungkook muttered just before their lips met. It was like Sunday afternoons, warm and comforting, but there was a layer of passion, just underneath.

And Jimin felt a hole he never knew he had disappear.




(A/N) Ahhhhh the end! Such a fluffy oneshot i LOVE JIKOOK OK

ALSO special thanks to my babe @yoongsigh for the amazing writing prompt and to the lovely bb @quill-ink for editing this and making it 2356293859857 times better <333 ily guys <3 <3

Touka, always left behind, longingly looks out the window waiting for those she loves to return… But she is bathed in a almost warm, calming colors. She has faced her past, learned from it, yes that pain still lingers, but she will always be there for those who need her. Giving people comforting warm when one is in need of it.


Kaneki, always hurt by those he loves, curls up in a ball to try to hold in all the pain he doesn’t want to world to see. Depressing, chaotic colors surround him. Unlike Touka, he doesn’t learn from his past, keeps making the same mistakes, lieing to himself, the pressure of the world on his shoulders. Fear and Anxiety.


This is how I see these two new artworks done by Ishida. It still seem like the both of them still have a lot of room for growth. Here is to hoping that when the Touken talk FINALLY happens, it will most definitely be worth the wait.

Rock-Paper-Scissors

A/N: This is my submission for @katymacsupernatural ‘s Gif Challenge! Yay

Pairings: Dean x reader!sister, Sam x reader!sister

Word Count: 681

Reader Age: Younger than both boys, I imagine

Dean groaned loudly as you trudged through the door of the motel room. It had been a constant, near 24 hour, loop of driving and interviewing and the three of you were beyond exhausted and beyond annoyed with each other. The case you and your brothers were working involved a suspected haunting of a high school, so there had been many ‘witnesses’ at the scene. Barely being able to keep your eyes open, you dropped your duffel by the table, slipped your blazer off, and flopped onto the first bed in sight.

“This is the most comfortable, uncomfortable bed ever,” you mumbled into the blanket, taking your gun out of the waistband of your slacks and tossing it onto the other bed. A heavy thud landed directly to your left and you lifted your head to see your mess of a brother, still in his FBI suit.

“Scoot, shorty!” Dean shouted as he attempted to shove you off the side of the bed. You protested and shoved back at him with no luck.

“Why can’t you and Sammy share a bed for once?” you whined and grabbed a pillow, smacking Dean weakly with it. He yanked it out of your grip and whacked you back before shoving it under his head and closing his eyes.

“This is so unfair,” you snapped and sat up, crossing your arms over your chest. You turned towards Sam and pleaded, “Sam, I don’t think I’ve ever had a bed to myself in my entire life, I just want a good night’s sleep, there’s not even a couch for me in here!”

You knew you sounded childish, but you also knew that it would probably work. Sam sighed and nodded. He shook Dean’s legs to wake him up and received a  solid kick to the abdomen.

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed, putting a hand to his stomach. “She’s right, just let her sleep,” he told Dean and sat on the other bed to untie his shoes. When Dean said nothing in return, you maneuvered to stand, giving Dean another shove.

“I’m gunna get ready for bed. I want a bed, Dean!” you yelled and threw your shoe at him, hitting him in the leg. He murmured something incoherent while you closed the door to the bathroom behind you. When you went to brush your teeth, you were greeted by the toothpaste caked almost entirely around the tube and its cap.

“Ew Dean! Come on! Again? Would you quit doing this?” You stormed out of the bathroom, waving the tube around.

Dean, still face-first into the bed, mumbled, “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, sis.”

You huffed and unnecessarily slammed the bathroom door shut. Annoyed, you wiped the toothpaste off with a grimace. You heard Sam talking to Dean but couldn’t make out what he said. A few minutes later you reentered the room to see your brothers, both still in their suit-tops, facing each other in a stance you knew all too well.

“Loser gets the floor,” Dean said quickly as he got into rock-paper-scissors formation. Sam squinted his eyes and tilted his head slightly. You watched as Dean played scissors and Sam, rock. Dean swore under his breath and turned away, irritated.

“Night, sucker,” you snickered and dove into your now empty bed, yanking the blankets over your shoulders.

“I hate you both,” Dean muttered, giving Sam a push and you a glare. After a bit more bickering, they both changed into t-shirts. Dean grabbed a pillow and the top blanket off each bed, folding one in half to lie on and covering himself with the other.

“Love ya, De,” you called out, feeling slightly guilty for making your brother sleep on the floor, but not guilty enough to give up your bed.

“Whatever,” he grunted, turning over on his side. You were nearly asleep when your gassy brother let one loose.

“Aww c’mon Dean!” Sam cried out and you buried your face into your pillow, avoiding whatever smells were lingering in the air. Dean chuckled and you heard Sam throw something at him. “You’re frickin’ disgusting!”

Tag List:

@supernatural-squadd @jensen-jarpad @winchesters-favorite-girl @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm

Arrangements at the Worst Time (John Laurens x Reader)

Originally posted by gravitywon

Pairing: John Laurens x Reader

(Collab with @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit )

Requested?: ‘Can you do a Laurens x Reader where he’s sad over Ham courting Eliza but then he meets reader? Thank you!! 🌚🌚🌚🌚🌚🌚’

Prompt: John is arranged to marry some woman and he’s scorned over Alexander courting Eliza.

Words: 10,000+

Warnings: Arranged marriage, Fluff, Slavery, Wedding, Historical Inaccuracies

Masterlist / Tay’s Masterlist

~~~

“Wait, what?”

“I’m courting Elizabeth Schuyler, Laurens. Do you remember her? We met at the-”

“Winter’s Ball. Yes, I recall.” John’s voice was tight, his tightened fists hidden in his coat pockets. Alexander grinned happily, unaware of his friend’s abnormal behavior.

“I’ve come to fancy her, and through our letters, she agreed to court me. We’ve been together for a few weeks now.”

“Ah, yes. Congratulations.” John replied curtly. Alexander pulled John into a hug, finally noticing his stiff posture. John did not offer a hug back, just a small smile. “I’m happy for you, Hamilton.”

Alexander’s smile wavered, scanning Laurens’ face. “Are you okay, John? You seem…peculiar.” John quickly realized his demeanor, and cleared his throat, faking a huge smile for his friend.

“No, no! Please, Alexander, I am fine. Let’s go and tell the others!” John placed his hand on the small of Alexander’s back, and they began walking.

John felt his heart shatter the moment he heard that his close friend was courting someone. He wanted to hide from the world and cry his eyes out. Sadly, John had fallen in love with Alexander. It was very taboo for a man to love another man but John could not lie to himself about his feelings. It wasn’t lusting. It wasn’t admiration. It wasn’t infatuation. It was love. But, John could not be with Alexander and love him publicly, as much as he wanted to. He must find a woman and marry her, just like Alexander and all the other men in the world. John must follow society’s rules or else he will find himself outcasted or, even, dead.

So, he kept all of his feelings to himself.

John and Alexander made it to the tent, Alexander excitedly telling his friends about Eliza. Laurens stood in the corner, smiling whenever he was obligated to and laughing when it was needed. As he watched, another fellow soldier came into the room, giving him a letter. He glanced over the recipient’s name and sighed.

It was his father.

He told his friends that he would be back, and walked out the tent to a lone tree that rested in the middle of the open field. He sat under the shade of the plant and began reading the letter.

Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens

Your mother and I have seldom received letters from you. It worries her that you do not update us on your predicament, although I understand why you cannot. I am on leave from my post, and your mother has special news for you.

We have found a suitable maiden for you to marry. Since you are unable to court due to your lack of caring, we have decided to find you one ourselves. She is an acceptable young woman, with interests in the arts and sciences. Your mother thought you would appreciate that.

Nevertheless, send me a letter back promptly so that we may arrange a meeting with her and her family.

Delegate of the Continental Congress

Henry Laurens

John tightened his grip on the paper, anger fuming from him. He marched back to the tent, his temper not lowering. Why did his father have to be such a-

“John? John are you alright?” Lafayette asked, looking over at his freckled-faced friend. John shook his head. Everything that happened today was getting to him, and this was the last straw.

“My father has arranged for me to meet a woman. He wants us to marry.” He growled, throwing the letter onto the ground. Mulligan stood up and grabbed the letter. He scanned it over quickly, then looked up.

“I’m sure he means well,” Mulligan said, trying to cheer up his friend. John shook his head, grabbing his coat off of Lafayette’s cot.

“When does he ever mean well?” John grumbled, fixing his outfit. Hamilton looked at him with concern, his smile finally gone from his face. John knew he was ruining the moment for his best friend, but he was just tired of everything not going his way.

First, the man John is in love with courts a woman he barely knows.

Then, his father comes up with this idiotic idea for him to marry someone he doesn’t even have the name of.

It’s going to be a long war.

Keep reading

And I need you to be cool Uncle Ace! Okay?!

Prompt; Law accidentally gets Fem-Luffy pregnant; everyone’s reaction.

In an AU where nothing hurts and Ace got to live.

Law’s a doctor.

More importantly than that though, Law is a paranoid little bastard.

Keep reading

feelings are rarely mutual. yuri accepts this fact with spiteful determination, he’s never been one to lie, at least not to himself. yet he still catalogues every touch, every accidental bump of hands, every gentle tug on his wrist. otabek loves him, but it is a love that encompasses the soft orange glow of a barcelona sunset, a love that is steady & unwavering. he does not ache the way yuri does, in bursts of rich red and burgundy that threaten to overtake him. otabek loves him, perhaps more than yuri deserves, but it is not enough. it will never be enough.

last season alec couldn’t breathe, because he realized that he couldn’t lie to himself anymore and he chose to be himself and to be with magnus despite the consequences of his coming out.

this season alec couldn’t breathe, because he realized that he loved magnus, that magnus was not invincible and he was terrified that he lost him.

Your hands feel like home

Request: Some college au lance and keith, where maybe keith gets like really badly sick (Up to you my friend how) and lance has to force him to stop going to classes/go to the hospital but keith gets so freaking stressed because he must have perfect grades (Klance if you want!!) Thank!!! C:

Summary: When Keith comes down sick, he assumes its nothing and carries on. But as classes and deadlines start to take their toll, it becomes more and more obvious to both Keith and his boyfriend Lance, that this ‘cold’ is anything but normal. How he made it to lectures with full blown pneumonia, he’ll never know, but something he does know is that no matter what, Lance will always be by his side. 


‘Babe, did you get the coffee?’

Keith raised his head, pausing in his feeble attempt to remove his shoes without experiencing a rapid, unplanned introduction to the floor.

‘Huh?’ he called, a small wince seeping through his teeth at the irritable scrape in his throat. He had been feeling ill for days, sluggish and tired, with a growing wet cough that burned his airways and pounded his head like a hammer on an anvil. He knew he had a fever - that morning while Lance had still been sleeping he had snuck into his bathroom and borrowed his thermometer, only find that his temperature had risen to 38.5 degrees. But college was just too busy to take a day off from, and so he had popped a few fever reducers and paracetamol and gotten on with his day.

‘Coffee,’ Lance repeated, sticking his head out of the kitchen door to raise his eyebrows at Keith. ‘you said you were gonna stop by the store on your way here and pick some up. I’m nearly out,’

Keith groaned, leaning his head against the wall, second shoe all but forgotten. ‘Damnit.. I forgot, sorry. Want me to go back out and get some?’ he asked, but every fibre of his body was praying that Lance would say no. Apparently, whatever Gods were looking down on him chose to be kind, and Lance shook his head, at ease.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi boys! What's your ideal outfit to see each other wearing? how does it make u feel if u know what i mean ;)

Harry: I’m not going to lie–

Draco: *braces himself*

Harry: –the brat looks absolutely stunning in Muggle suits. 

Draco: *pleasantly relieved* Oh.

Harry: What? *shrewdly* What did you think I was going to say?

Draco: Something lewd.

Harry: Sorry to disappoint. What’s your answer?

Draco: *shrugs* Nothing.

Harry: What? It can’t be nothing; you have to say what outfit.

Draco: I did. *smirks* Nothing. I like it best when you’re wearing nothing.

Harry: *slightly pink in the face and trying to remain impassive* I see.

Draco: *snidely* What did you think I was going to say, Harry?

Harry: *growls* Don’t push it, baby.

You know what I don't understand..

People saying sans has depression..
Okay there is possibilities..Yes..But he literally admits he’s lazy, and when he says “give up like I did” i don’t think that’s him saying “I gave up cause I’m depressed” but “give up it’s no use trying to change the world” cause he probably feels unhappy about it..But definitely not depressed..Tho you can argue he might have slight depression

And people tend to forget the two CANON characters with depression is Alphys and Asgore. Alphys also has anxiety which..Mixed with depression is really awful! No fun. Alphys feels useless, like she’s a wet rag and Just a burden to her friends and the community. She implies in pacifist route she was gonna do something..Cowardly. (if suicide was your answer, you are correct!) She tries to fix it but sometimes you just need help, which undyne and papyrus are obviously willing to help with!

Asgore shows signs but friends of his probably don’t see cause (like many with depression) they hide it with a smile, he wants to help YOU, he tries to lie to himself saying it’s okay but he isn’t, he’s a father who lost two kids then his wife left him in his time of grieving.. Imagine being a king also with your kingdom mourning too with you, it adds on to the wound. Asgore didn’t reach out, he tried to fix it himself..But he too needed help (like in pacifist)
For fuck sakes he commits suicide in a neutral route! THAT part chokes me up. That is the saddest part in undertale for me, cause you can tell he just couldn’t take it, even says he’s FUCKING SORRY to you!!
He literally apologizes that he couldn’t do it..You know he’s gonna be haunted with his actions, you know he’s gonna be forever guilty, but frisk is probably the only person in canon to actually tell Asgore it’s okay and they won’t hurt him(Undyne tries tho) Asgore needs so much more love then he’s given by the fandom.
It’s honestly disgusting people portray sans as the sad depressed one and ignore the canon depressed characters, and portray alphys just as a horny weeboo and Asgore as either a stalker or a heartless killer.

Dude..Sans let’s you kill papyrus in one route. And he kills frisk too so..Idk why you guys say he’s a sweet guy. I love sans too but..Fanon sans SUCKS.

I just don’t understand that at all.

crimsonsoulpower  asked:

How do you want S4 to be? Hannigramatic? How so? Do you believe they'll still be angsting or would have been mellowed a but? :D

My ideal for S4 (or 4, 5 and 6, for that matter–I’m not too particular on the time frame, so if Bryan wants to draw it out over more than one season, more power to him) is for Will to learn who he is: the limitations of him being a killer, that he’s NOT cut out for Hannibal’s lifestyle even if he tries, that no matter how beautiful he may have felt killing by Hannibal’s side was, it doesn’t sustain him and is only one aspect of the creature that he is.

This is why I asked @existingcharactersdiehorribly to ask the question that she did at RDC3, which was more or less a S4 question, disguised. S3 left us with a truly borderline Will Graham, one who had both finally accepted himself as a killer and sentenced himself to die for it, and Bryan has talked about how a future season of Hannibal would show Will truly on the other side of the wall for the first time, with his “tether” cut. So if that’s where they start him, then where do they intend to go? What’s the final destination? That disagreement between Hannibal and Bedelia, which was left somewhat open-ended in S3, seemed like it presented an opportunity to take the temperature of the writer’s room on the matter, so to speak. The answers they gave were exactly the answers I hoped and suspected that they would give, indicating both a dedication to Will’s duality (on Hugh’s part) as well as a remembrance of and dedication to his heroism (on Bryan’s part). Bryan’s answer is especially encouraging because he’s the one who holds the vision for the future and the direction the story would take for Will.

In conjunction with Will truly learning who he is, I also want to see Hannibal finally coming to accept this fact also. Sometimes I just want to ask Bryan and Mads, “Hey, do you think it could ever occur to Hannibal that if he wants to be with Will that maybe–MAYBE–he should stop trying to change Will and just maybe work on, oh, I dunno…CHANGING HIMSELF?”

I’m not necessarily holding my breath for this particular revelation to ever occur to Hannibal, or that the tiger could change its stripes if it did occur to him. But the course of the story that’s been told so far, from Hannibal’s side, has been about his gradual release of control in spite of his absolute reluctance to let go. I remember Hugh saying in some interview way back when something about how Hannibal wanted to control their relationship, but in the end it’s Hannibal who is willing to burn the world to the ground for Will, and that puts Will in control. I want to see a continuation of that.

S1 was about how Hannibal nearly got caught because he began taking risks for Will and Abigail, but he put Will in prison instead, to preserve his life and lifestyle and freedom. So he maintained his control. But S2 saw him begin the process of gradually dismantling everything in his life for Will. First the Chesapeake Ripper got sacrificed, along with Miriam Lass, his “get out of jail free” card. Then he gave up his anonymity and prestige and cushy life in Baltimore to go on the run for Will. When that didn’t work out, he could recreate those things somewhat, but then he chose to give them up again, along with his freedom–the very thing that he’d held back from giving up in both S1 and S2, that caused all this mess in the first place. Through all this, though, Hannibal has maintained a steadfast belief that Will is that mirror image of him, and so the one integral thing that he hasn’t given up is that slight lie that he’s told himself. That is the one aspect of their relationship that he has absolutely clung to, and it has controlled the nature of the relationship: that not only is Will a killer, but that bringing this out in him is the best thing for him.

I want to see Hannibal and Will both learn that Hannibal has been, to some extent, telling them both a lie. And I want to see Hannibal accept it, and love Will anyway. I want his love to truly become unconditional.

I’d like to see Will’s coming to a truer understanding of himself through Hannibal’s influence and mentoring as the “continuation” of their relationship that Bryan talked about, and Hannibal finally coming to understand the limits of his vision for Will as the “subversion/inversion” of it. 

tiberius (i tried something)

warnings: implied emotional abuse, discussion of abuse and abusive tactics

“Steve,” Natasha says, putting one hand on his arm just as he’s about to climb out of the car.

Steve turns to listen to whatever it is she has to say. Her expression is grim, delicate brows twisted just a little.

“Remember how I said I thought Tony’s boyfriend was abusive?”

“I remember,” Steve agrees.

“I want you to also remember that whatever he shows you may not reflect that.”

“I…think I understand.” Steve frowns as he tries to piece together what he thinks she’s telling him. “You’re saying…he’ll hide what he does.”

“It could be misdirection, distraction, or the abuse may just be part of a private facet of his personality. Whatever it is, he may not seem like the type of man who could be abusive. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Steve swallows. “You think he might pull one over on me. Make me think he’s a nice guy.”

Natasha looks him unflinchingly in the eye. “He’s an abuser. Abusers are exceptionally good at camouflaging themselves. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have partners, and they wouldn’t get away with the things they do.”

“Okay,” Steve says, back straightening. “I have to be alert. I can do that.”

Natasha catches him by the arm again and Steve pauses, surprised. “Don’t beat yourself up if he gets you, Steve,” she says. “There are trained professionals who study men like this who still get caught up in their webs.”

Apprehension creeps up Steve’s spine. This time when he reaches for the door, Natasha lets him get it open. He steps out into the bright sunshine and he’s turning to shut the door when Natasha calls, “And Steve?”

He pokes his head back in the car.

“If Tony gets weird, or seems not like himself, that’s why. It won’t have anything to do with you. Don’t make it about you.”

“Sure,” Steve says, throat suddenly dry. He can do that.

Dammit, Natasha’s always right.

Steve goes in fully prepared to be civil with Tiberius, but not a bit warmer. But then, as Tony—who is strange and sullen, just like Natasha said he might be—is introducing them, Tiberius spots an older woman to Steve’s right who has a swathe of bad burns up her arm and across half of her face, the scarred skin completely covering her eye.

When Tiberius opens his mouth, Steve is braced for something that will grind his teeth, but all Tiberius says is, “I’m sorry, give me just a minute.”

Then he goes to the woman and touches her shoulder. Steve doesn’t expect to see her light up the way she does, or the warm hug they share.

Tony must see his confusion because he says, “That’s Aiyana. She works for Viastone. Two years ago her husband set her house on fire with her inside.”

Horrified, Steve stares at Tony.

“Ty pays his janitorial staff better than most places, but four weeks in the hospital is still over the threshold of affordability for them. He paid her bills, visited her three times a week the whole stay.” Tony’s expression is soft and said. “Ty’s good to his people—it’s a big part of why I fell in love with him.”

“Sorry,” Tiberius says when he returns, hand outstretched to shake Steve’s hand. “Friend I haven’t seen in awhile. So, Steve, what is it you like to do?”

After, Steve sits in shock, a beer in one hand. “He seems like a good guy,” he says incredulously to Natasha. “He asked about my art. He brought Tony drinks and talked about how Viastone’s success is founded on treating every employee like a person first and an employee second. He’s funny and—” Steve takes a long pull from his beer, feeling hunted. “He got me,” he croaks. “But I knew—

“Imagine how it went for Tony.”

Steve pales. “He never stood a chance.”

Natasha nods. “He’s all smiles and charm until he’s got you in his web. Then it’s too late. You’re stuck.”

Steve glances over at Natasha, away from the wall. “Then how do we—how can we help him?”

Natasha shrugs with one shoulder. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. All it takes is one person who treats you like you matter—like you’re more than a thing.” She looks across the room to where Clint is sitting and they exchange a look that says more than some of the books Steve’s read. “Be patient. Tony has to see for himself what Tiberius is doing to him or he’ll stay stuck.”

Steve chews his lip. “There’s nothing else I can do?”

Natasha turns eyes that know too much on him. “Rhodes and Pepper are Tony’s oldest friends aside from Tiberius. You’ve seen how Tony holds them at arm’s length. They tried to make him see. All you can do is refuse to let Tony lie to himself about his culpability in this and wait. Then, when he’s ready, you help him get free.”

Steve takes a shaky breath. Inaction in the face of something like this goes against everything Steve believes, everything he’s fought for. He wants to forcibly remove Tony and make him see sense, even though he can hardly see it himself. But yeah, he’s seen the way Tony all but cut Rhodes out of his life, how stiff and formal he is around Pepper, and according to Natasha they’re his best friends. Rhodes spent three months in the desert searching for Tony. They had tried what Steve wants to try and it had blown up in their faces.

He can’t make the same mistake.

“Okay,” he says, taking another unsteady breath. “Then that’s my play. Wait and watch.”

Natasha smiles thinly behind her own glass bottle. “Might just be the hardest fight of your life, Rogers.”