ma writing

Thanks to the Anesthetic

“Person A of your otp has recently undergone surgery and now has temporary amnesia from the anesthetic. Person B has been married to A for a good number of years, and can’t help but giggle at A’s reactions to everything.”

For @shivisdivis. In other news, I’m bad at writing humor.

Katara should be worried, she should be thinking about his recovery and the road ahead. But that wasn’t really possible when her husband of 8 years kept sneaking glances at her, trying to act all coy and casual but was anything but.

“Are you my doctor? Why are you in my room? You look smart.” Zuko rambled and slurred through the words, finally talking to her.

She had been debating with herself all afternoon, should she mess with him a bit or let him know the truth? Other videos on YouTube made it seem worth it to fib on a few things even though she didn’t plan to video anything.

“No Zuko, I’m not your doctor.” It was the truth, but she didn’t follow up with who she was to him. The surgery was fairly minor and wouldn’t be strenuous on his body, there would hardly be any physical therapy, but the anesthetic wasn’t wearing off as quick as it should.

“Are you my nurse? You’re a hot nurse.” His eyes dipped low to her breasts a few times, before popping back up to her eyes, a light blush appearing on his cheeks. She probably should be annoyed that he was ogling her, but he never did that to her even after being married.

She laughed a little, “No I’m not your nurse Zuko.”

His forehead crinkled in confusion before blanking out his expression, “Am I in heaven?” A look of worry quickly followed so Katara was quick to respond.

“No, no, no, you’re not dead,” she placed a hand on the arm closest to her, it didn’t have any tubes or IVs attached. “You had surgery and you’re still a little fuzzy. Did you want some water?”

“Water? What is water?”

Now she was worried. The surgery wasn’t in his brain so?? What was happening? “Uh, here, drink from the straw.” She grabbed a hospital tumblr with bendy straw and placed it between his lips.

“It’s not doing anything,” he said around the plastic, the pronunciation distorted.  

“Zuko you have to suck through it, why are you being silly? You know this.”

He opened his mouth and the straw bounced around the open space as he tried to pull it back with his tongue. Obvious to say he was failing hilariously at it so Katara had to laugh at him.

She couldn’t hold it in any longer, “Zuko, I’m your wife. We’ve been married over 8 years.”

His jaw dropped and the little bit of water he had in his mouth dribbled out and onto his shirt. “No way. You’re too hot to be my wife. Is this real life?”

“Yes, it’s very real and I’m very much your wife. We have the child to prove it too.”

Now his eyes popped open, “I have a kid?!”

Katara was glad that their son was staying with her parents until Zuko was out of the hospital. Toddlers were too susceptible to illness and she didn’t want him to see Zuko in a hospital bed. And now he didn’t even remember him!

“Do I need to get the photos out?” Her tone bordering on serious.

“Wait, that means we had sex. I had sex with you? Man I’m so lucky.” His face turned into a blissful look as he stared off into space, obviously thinking about the potential sex he could have with her. Her laughter this time was loud and filled the quiet room.

“Oh Zuko, once we get home and you’re healthy we’ll have all the sex you want.” She leaned over kissed his scarred cheek. “But only if you remember what I wore our wedding night.”

With the blissed-out look still on his face he whispered, “I had a wedding night? I hope I can remember that.”

Some Wodehousian forms of address

If you’re lacking ideas how to call your family and friends, you may try these:

  • “old thing”,
  • “old egg”,
  • “old fruit”,
  • “my little chickadee”,
  • “you old ass”,
  • “my fluttering old aspen”,
  • “my dear old mysterious hinter”,
  • “old fever patient”,
  • “old ancestor”,
  • “old thicker than water”,
  • “old flesh and blood”,
  • “(my dear) old relative”,
  • “my dear old faulty reasoner”,
  • “you poor chump”,
  • “my poor lamb”,
  • “my misguided old object”,
  • “you ghastly goggle-eyed piece of gorgonzola”,
  • “face”,
  • “ugly”,
  • “aged relative”,
  • “you young blot”,
  • “my beamish boy”,
  • “old blood relation”,
  • “you abysmal chump”,
  • “Lord Spodecup” (instead of “Lord Sidcup”),
  • “my (beautiful) bounding Bertie”,
  • “you young hellhound”,
  • “you revolting object”,
  • “you young muttonhead”,
  • “my dear old police sergeant”,
  • “poor ditherer”,
  • “Attila”,
  • “Watson”.

anonymous asked:

Fic idea; The Stan twins go to visit their mother for the first time in 40 years to show her they're not dead. Though happy, she is not pleased with being lied to. Ma Pines proceeds to scold and punish the two 60 year old men like they're 6.

“Of all the unbelievable things you two have done. This one has to top the cake!” 

The idea of visiting their mother had come about when they got into the Atlantic Ocean. When they both had stepped into the room it looked like she had seen a ghost. She almost started crying while hugging the two of them. 

The moment of joy was gone now. Now their actions were coming back to bite them. 

“Ma…” Ford tried to reason but the woman raised her hand to stop them. 

“Don’t you Ma me, Stanford Filbrick Pines. I thought your brother was dead.”

Stanley gave a small laugh but was shut up by the glare the older woman gave him. 

“And now I find out that he has been around for the past forty years,” She continued, “hasn’t called for the thirty that he has been pretending to be you.” 

“Sorry,” Stanley muttered. 

“You better be sorry, young man.”

“Ma,” Stanford mumbled, “We are almost sixty.”

“And I am near my end date,” their mother shot back, “And don’t get me started on you. You just up and disappear for thirty years and the ten years prior you didn’t even call me once. Or visit for Sherman’s coming home party. Not once, Stanford.” 

The two men went silent and hung their heads. 

“What do you have to say for yourselves?” 

They shifted nervously. Under their mother’s glare they felt like young children again that were caught trying to smuggle in a stray mutt they had found on the shore. 

“We’re sorry,” Stanley mumbled.

“Really sorry,” Ford sighed, “I should have called long before what happened thirty years ago and Stan should have told you the truth.” 

Their mother narrowed their eyes at them after the words were spoken. Her glare seemed to raise the pressure in the room and made them shift nervously. 

The pressure was broken when they both were pulled into a tight hug in skinny, frail arms. 

“I missed you both so much.” 

Whenever Nursey gets anxious, Dex has found out that is best to give him some space so that he can feel free to breathe, however, he also notes that Nursey likes to know that someone is close to him, so he has the habit to gently cup one of Nursey’s cheeks, bring him forward and give him a nose kiss while whispering that he’s there and then putting some distance between them, far enough so that Nursey won’t feel suffocated but close enough that the other won’t feel abandoned.

In turn, whenever Dex starts getting aggravated or depressed over something, Nursey has learned that the best way to get Dex to feel better is to have him go to a quiet and secluded place where they can hold on to each other, knowing that Dex likes to lay his head on his chest and just stay there counting the heartbeats, letting them lull him to sleep.

- Potevi cercartene una meno complicata.
- Ma non eri te.
—  tela-da-dipingere (lo ha detto proprio a me) • A. 22/04/17
Patience (Shawn Mendes Imagine)

requested: can you write something based on Shawn’s song patience?

pairing: reader x Shawn Mendes

word count: 2,095

a/n: patience is my favorite song by Shawn, thank you so much for requesting this, I teared up while writing it! Of course it’s based off of patience, but I found another great song to listen to while reading this is Waves by Dean Lewis. tell me what y’all think!

“What do you mean she took it back?”

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nour386  asked:

20. Role swap, Stan is the one who gets the potential scholarship and Ford's the oen that gets kickd out?

20. Roleswap AU

Holy shit this is one hell of a prompt.  It is the kind of prompt that could easily spin into a full-length fic.  But here’s just a ficlet instead.

Send me characters and a number and I’ll write you a ficlet!

               “So, there’s a talent scout coming to your next match?” Ford asked, trying to muster up some false excitement for his twin.  Stan nodded.  “That’s…promising.”  He and Ford were sitting on their swings, watching the sunset.

               “Apparently some school wants a boxer, and they looked around and saw me, so they’re sending someone.”

               “If you do well, then you’ll go to college, I suppose,” Ford said quietly. Stan shrugged.

               “Haven’t decided about that part yet.  I mean, we’ve almost finished up the Stan O’War, and I’ve seen what years of boxing does to your face.  Can’t pick up girls with an ugly mug.  Don’t have enough charm for that.”

               “But college is-”

               “Sixer, you know full well that I don’t like school.  Why would I want to do even more of it?”

               “Heh.  I guess so,” Ford said, slightly assuaged.  

               “School’s your thing.  Not mine.” Ford nodded mutely.  His stomach turned over at his twin’s comment.

               Then why didn’t I get scouted?


               Stan helped Ford get out of the car and walk up to the pawn shop.  He opened the door; the bell jingled. Filbrick looked up from the antique gun he was polishing.  His lips turned down in a dissatisfied sneer.

               “You!” he snarled.  Stan swallowed.

               “Pops, I’m sorry I wasn’t-” he started.

               “Not you, your twin,” Filbrick said, setting the gun down, marching over to the twins, and grabbing Ford by the shirt.  Though his face was obscured by the bruises covering it, his terror shone through.  “What the hell do you think you were doing, keeping Stan from his match?”

               “Pops, it’s not his fault, it’s Crampelter’s,” Stan protested.

               “Was I talking to you?” his father growled.  Stan blanched and took an instinctive step backward.  


               “Do you realize what this boxing match could have been for us?” Filbrick asked Ford.  “We coulda been rich if Stan went on to be a professional athlete.  You cost this family millions!”

               “I- I didn’t mean to,” Ford said desperately.  “I was on my way there to support Stan and ran into Crampelter and-”

               “Made your twin miss his match because he was protecting your skinny, wimpy ass.”

               “Filbrick, what’s going on?” Ma Pines asked, walking into the pawn shop.

               “Getting rid of this freeloader,” Filbrick replied.  He dragged Ford over to the door and shoved him roughly outside. “Don’t come back until you’ve-” Stan barreled past his father to join Ford on the steps.  “Stanley, get your ass back in here.”

               “No.  If Ford goes, I go,” Stan said firmly.  Filbrick’s face turned an inhuman shade of red.  Stan struggled to not cower under his father’s disapproving gaze.  A moment passed, while the three men were frozen. Finally, Filbrick slammed the door closed.  Stan and Ford stared at the closed door.

               “Did- did he just-” Ford started.  He clamped his mouth shut when the door opened briefly.  Filbrick tossed a pair of duffel bags at his sons, then closed the door again.  “We’re- he-”

               “He kicked us out,” Stan said in a low voice.  “I didn’t think he’d actually- no, you know what?  I’m not surprised.  He’s been talking about putting me on the streets for years.”

               “What do we do?” Ford whispered.  “We’re homeless.”  Stan helped Ford up and brushed dirt off him.  

               “Nah, not completely.  We’ve got the Stanleymobile still, and the Stan O’War, too.”

               “Stanley.  A car and a boat do not constitute a home,” Ford said flatly.

               “It’s better than nothing,” Stan replied firmly.  He put an arm around Ford’s shoulders.  “And we’ve got each other, so that’s pretty good.  I’d hate to think of how fucked up you’d be if you were on your own out here.”

               “Or you were on your own,” Ford said.  Stan waved a hand.  

               “I think I’d be fine.”  Ford chuckled weakly, but then sobered.

               “Stan, I’m- I’m sorry I ruined your chance at going to a good school and getting a promising career.”

               “Didn’t you listen to me the other day?  I didn’t want to do it anyways.  All you did is save me the trouble of dealing with turning the boxing people down.”  He looked at his twin.  “High six?” he said, holding up a hand.  Ford smiled hesitantly.

               “High six.”

Ma még utoljára..

Ma még utoljára visszaolvasom a beszélgetésünket.
Ma még utoljára meghallgatom a kedvemc zenéd.
Ma még utoljára felveszem a nálam hagyott pólódat.
Ma még utoljára megnézem a kedvenc filmedet.
Ma még utoljára belekortyolok a kedvenc alkoholodba.
Ma még utoljára betakarózom a közös takarónkkal.
Ma még utoljára rád gondolok lefekvéd előtt.
S, ha holnap felkelek, új ember leszek, ki nem gondol rád már többet s szépen csendben elfelejt.


part final (lol sorry xD)
part 1

sorry sorry sorry!!!! (not sorry ewe)
but the final of the comic i have it ready from the beginning…..
so yeah xD ….no but the true sorry,….is for the wait…..i’m really sorry
for that…..i had a art block….and other things …so yeah ….but is done xD


Over Easy by @foxberryblue

“You getting up?” A voice calls from behind the couch over the sounds of hissing. It mixes with the low hum of the refrigerator and the rustling of sheets when Mikasa sits upright. She looks about, bewildered and blinking, not quite awake despite the sunlight resting on her face.

Everything around her looks unfamiliar. With the mottled couch and the pale cream walls and the quaint kitchen a few steps away, Mikasa can’t put her finger on where she is, until she spots the face of a man she recognises. “Wha-?” she replies in a groan. Mikasa rubs her eyes, trying to push away the last remnant of sleep but finding smudges of mascara on her fingers instead.

Keep reading

A Tale of One Hoax - Cover

A story co-written with @anfidersio who helped me work around the plot holes and make the story fit into canon as much as possible. I’m very excited to work on this project with her! I hope you will like the story! :)

Page 1

Genre: Gen, Continuation, Drama, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Moving on means you sometimes have to go back to where it all began


Dissertation Writing Tips

Here are some tips I got from a university Q&A session about how to write an MA dissertation. 

  • manage your supervisor 
    • don’t expect them to remember everything - just because it’s occupying all your brains-pace, it doesn’t mean it occupies much of theirs
    • don’t use your supervisor as a glorified spellchecker - you could be making better use of their time
    • don’t be afraid to prompt them about meetings
  • make sure you are submitting as much work as you can to your supervisor, and make sure you hand it in with enough time in advance so they can look at it properly
  • do your best to have a healthy routine
    • drink lots of water
    • make sure you socialise and have ‘me-time’
    • get away from the books/screen occasionally!
  • writing tips
    • get someone to copyedit and proof-read your work - can they follow your argument? is it clearly expressed?
    • reading sections aloud to yourself can help
    • don’t leave your citations and bibliography to the last minute: you’ve got to make sure that they are comprehensive and accurate as scholarly presentation is so important
  • make sure you frame your topic and argument well from the beginning
    • what texts are you using and why?
    • why have you chosen this topic?
    • how is your work situated against the work of others?
    • do not assume that you reader knows what you’re talking about - define your terms clearly!

Hope that helps - if you guys have any more tips, do let me know in an ask or a comment! x 


one saturday, i won’t have anywhere to go.
at 9:07, i’ll find you next to me
kiss your forehead
and go back to sleep

one saturday, i’ll make a slow breakfast.
while you’re in the shower,
i’m making the coffee
and you’re slipping your arms around me

one saturday, we’ll be together.
wandering farmers markets
snapping pictures of each other,
sneaking kisses

one saturday, ill go to sleep.
knowing that life can’t get better
that i’m not dreaming
that i’m finally home.