inspired by this video (sfw, but a sex toy is being used as car repair, so take that as you will)
“Laura’s gonna flip,” Derek says in dismay, looking at the huge dent in the driver’s side door of the Camaro. Her most precious possession, the car she’d been saving up for forever, the car she waxes and washes every weekend, the car that she let Derek borrow to go to the Mathletes competition in San Francisco because Derek had a basketball game on Friday and couldn’t make the official school bus, the car that Laura made him swear his life on, is now forever ruined.
“Damn, if there ever was a good place to curse, that would have been it,” Stiles says, crossing his arms and looking far more attractive than he had the right to. “C’mon, Derek. Just say it. Fuck.”
Derek blushes, watching the word tumble out of Stiles’ pink mouth. “No, I… there’s gotta be a way to fix it. But if I call her insurance people she’s gonna know…”
“It’s totally my fault,” Stiles says. “I was the one who wanted to go to Tastee Freeze on the way back, and let some dingbat hit you in the parking lot. Actually, it’s their fault, whoever can’t drive.”
Derek shakes his head. It’s his fault. He’d been having too much fun this weekend; he’d spent practically all of it with Stiles. He’d had a crush on him forever— in fact, joined Mathletes at his request, and the whole year of practice, of spending afternoons with Stiles poring over math problems, watching Stiles lick Cheeto dust off his fingers— it’s been too much. Coupled with the fact that Stiles actually just plain forgot to catch the bus on Friday, and then caught a ride with Derek, meant hours in the car listening to him sing along to Hamilton and muddle through the rap bits, and sleeping next to him in the four-to-a-room motel Saturday night, and waking up with Stiles’ face smashed into his shoulder.
Derek had been too overwhelmed by it all, too overwhelmed by Stiles. Getting the chance to spend time with his friend this weekend had just intensified his feelings, and he knows there’s no chance that Stiles will ever feel the same, so he’s just drinking it all in, savoring these moments when he can.
It had been a terrible parking job, the Camaro was at a weird angle, that’s why the person rounding the turn had hit him. Derek sighs. He guesses it’s for the best. He’ll just have to pay Laura back. For forever.
Stiles is studying the door, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Actually, it’s not that bad. They didn’t even scratch it. It’s just a dent. With the right amount of leverage…”
“I’m sorry, do you happen to have a magical car-door fixer in your overnight bag?”
Somehow, this causes Stiles to turn bright red. “Okay. I have an idea. But you have to promise not to laugh.”
Derek watches, perplexed, as Stiles pulls his duffle bag out of the back seat, and then rummages around in it.
“Promise not to laugh,” Stiles repeats.
“I promise.” Derek is confused, but sincere.
Stiles pulls a bright blue dildo out of the bag. It’s springy, and jiggles a little with the movement. There’s a thick vein running along the side, and the base even has… balls.
Derek’s brain short circuits, an image of Stiles, naked, working himself on the girth of the toy, his mouth open, panting, as he tries to get the right angle, skin flushed pink from pleasure…
Please bombard me with Pining Sherlock fics. I need some.
You asked for it, you got it Nonny! This is literally my favourite trope in the entirety of existence. I have a tonne of fics, and I’m still sorting all of my bookmarks, so I probably still have more to add. I had SO MANY TO PUT ON THIS LIST, that I had to remove links to the authors, because Tumblr kept deleting all my links. So yes, over 150 fics here below, all from mostly Sherlock’s POV (@holmesthesociopath, this should help with your ask as well until I finish the list of Sherlock POV fics for you)!
Because I’ve been working on this list for over 6 months, please advise me of any broken links and I will do my best to find them again for you!
killing children to protect children; dying and the resulting deaths
So I’ve decided to do something terribly stupid and try to address a really difficult aspect of this week’s chapter: Kaneki’s decision to kill Hajime and the Oggai.
First and foremost, I want to bring us back to the middle ages, to Yamori, when two inherent flaws in Kaneki’s personality were fully revealed to us. His discussion with Imaginary Rize involved his token slogan “be the one who gets hurt, not the one who hurts others”– a gift from his mother, which he has struggled to loosen his grip on throughout the entire story.
Unknowingly, Yamori challenged that very belief with an ugly mind-game:
By not being able to choose (despite Kei’s insistence to save her son), both mother and child were killed. He failed to even try.
Kaneki faltered like any person would have in his situation, but it underscored what would ultimately become a huge problem for him in the future. He has always struggled to do harm and to make difficult decisions that hold him responsible (a complex most likely created by deep-rooted feelings of helplessness after a childhood full of neglect and loss).
Fast-forward to today’s chapter, we find Kaneki faced with a magnification of the same situation. At the end of E14, Touka, Hinami, and a flock of starving ghouls unable to fight– many of which arechildren– are backed into a corner by an inescapable death. Nearby, Kaneki is laying in a bloodied, limbless, lifeless heap, surrounded on all sides by a hoard of deadly child-soldiers.
Without Kaneki’s intervention, Goat’s children will be slaughtered like lambs. However, in order for Kaneki to intervene, he would have to slaughter children himself. It’s a total conundrum that Ishida has purposefully created; a twisted, horrifying, challenging predicament for us to muddle through… hence the name of the Oggai:
Death, mirrored. A behemoth wrong from all angles.
With this, Furuta is Yamori dangling lives in front of his face once more. He’s Arima, handing Kaneki the opportunity to win on a silver platter….
… But more than anything, Furuta is Furuta: a man barefacedly showcasing the CCG’s dirty little secret in a stunt that the average investigator is still willing to overlook.
Furuta confirms here that it really is no problem controlling the masses. So long as they feel unified on the front to Defeat Evil™, a person won’t look at their own wickedness in the mirror.
The last chapter was the first time we heard Kaneki reflect on his decisions and life choices outside of admitting his inability to do so in Cochlea. But unlike Cochlea, we finally see him take a grand step forward. He considers dying here (again knowing that a chunk of his adopted family is in grave danger), but despite adversity, FINALLY digs his nails into life and comes tearing all horns and thorns back to the surface.
HOWEVER. I want to reiterate that what he’s done is still sickening. It isn’t the Oggai’s fault that they are who they are, and no less now that Furuta has fanned the flames of their personal vendettas against ghouls. They are all just children who– like the Garden Kids– have been exploited by means outside of their control.
Has Ishida made this theme blindingly apparent yet?
The thing is, Kaneki understands the nature of act he’s about to commit. It doesn’t necessarily make him right, but he understands the gravity of the situation.
He does interject with uglier thoughts (”I don’t care”, “I will kill”)– BUT! He also considers those old flaws of his and finally, finally kicks them aside.
Furuta accused him of never learning; of always choosing himself. He’s always put his own moral righteousness above actual life. He’s never killed humans, never choose one life over another, and never made an honest decision that forced him to take responsibility for his actions. And for all of that, he has done nothing but suffer.
But now, in the face of all that, Kaneki gathers up all of his experiences over the last several years, pins positives against each other, outweighs the cons, and for the first time ever reaches a solid conclusion: kill, and put an end to the senseless murders the Oggai might commit in the future. Kill, and save those innocent children and the people he loves. Kill, and take control of the the life he’s been handed. Kill, even at the expense of others.
(Second or third now in a series of things-I-write-on-my-phone-at-3am-and-rediscover-weeks-later).
Andrew and Neil have been planning their coming out strategy for months. Their PR team has weighed all the pros and cons, evaluated the possible reactions, and started to plan a press conference where the reveal can happen in a controlled environment and people can get the whole story without having to fabricate and draw their own conclusions.
Suddenly, Erik is sent on a work trip to America and Nicky tags along on a coincidentally well-timed holiday week so he can visit Andrew. Neil is the one who takes him out to see the sights, as it were, and people start getting suspicious that Nicky is spending time around him and not Andrew. Especially since they have no idea that Neil and Andrew are friendly with each other, let alone live together. They also know about Nicky’s sexuality, but not his husband. So, after a game, the reporters turn their attention to the possible headline.
Reporter: Neil, there’s been some speculation about the nature of your relationship with Nicky Hemmick. You seem close. Care to comment on that?
Neil: Nicky and I have been good friends since college.
Reporter: Are you sure you’re not dating?
Andrew, offhandedly, on his way past: Wrong cousin.
The reporters take a second to muddle through that, since they know, from prior confusion and mix-ups, that Andrew’s twin is dating a girl … then they realise with a sudden shock -
But Neil’s taken this opportunity to leave, following Andrew out of reach of the reporters.
The PR team are all banging their heads on their desks, despairing over months of wasted planning.
Why Embracing Emotional Distress is the Best Medicine Sometimes
Much of our mental suffering is caused by our overwhelming attempt to avoid it. We think experiencing any sort of anxiety is a threat to our existing, but psychology studies have proven that one learns from struggle. One becomes a better human being through heartache. Let us explain with the science behind this theory..
Hi, I wanted to ask you if you know any fanfictions about Johnlock texting/letters/internet messages, something connected with that? :)
I thought I didn’t have many of these, so I was so excited that I would be able to get this done in 10 minutes… it’s now 4 hours later and I finally got a rough list done for you and I STILL can’t find the one I wanted to add to this list! I’m so angry, because I THOUGHT it was an FFNet fic, but i can’t find it urg. Oh well. I hope you like what I have picked for you instead!
SEXTING / TEXTING:
Unquantifiable by 221b_hound(M, 2799 w, Ao3) - John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can’t find words big enough to thank her for saving John’s life at the warehouse. For afters, there’s a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of Unkissed
Happy anniversary by Salambo06(E, 3772 w., Ao3) - John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him. Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear.
A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua(M, 12,757 w. Ao3) - John sank deeper into the pillows, let the mist and blur of the wine settle around him, let it shore up his nerves and dim the warning signals that flashed dully in the back of his mind. He let the rest of the disappointment about Lucy and his strange accommodations and about the weekend as a whole fade into obscurity. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes. **MUST READ**
The Real Meaning of Idioms by feverishsea(T, 21,691 w., Ao3) - After two weeks away, John finally texts Sherlock. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to respond. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to keep texting him. And he really doesn’t expect things to spiral out of control so rapidly.
Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb(E, 8737 w., Ao3) - "I am not agitated. I’m just tired of it. The insinuations, the comments, that I have no… no interest in relationships, or sex.“ John and Sherlock muddle through a relationship. **FAVE!**
Entanglement by orphan_account(G, 3218 w., Ao3) - On Christmas Eve, snow covers London, John visits Harry, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson untangle some knots. Lovely pining Sherlock fic. Love this one!
Definitions by siennna(T, 101,528 w., Ao3) - Throughout his life, Sherlock Holmes has always taken facts and held them close like treasures, because in a world of complex emotions, unpredictability, and the unknown, logic has never failed him. Puzzles can always be solved and equations will always have an answer; he seeks and finds comfort in the steady absolution of facts and the knowledge that everything has a definition: an unchanging, consistent meaning. However, at age thirty-five he discovers the exception to all of his neat, tidy logic when he meets John Watson, the one person who evades definition and refuses to be easily categorized—and who makes Sherlock question his own previously unshakeable ideas about everything from life to love. (Apparently a WiP, but it feel complete enough, as the “last chapter” has been waiting for over 2 years)
Tease You Till You Come by phoenix089 (E, 6090 w., Ao3) - Initially, Sherlock was rather put out by John’s lack of presence on the case. But then he starts to recieve pictures, several of them, of an unexpected nature. The case is forgotten rather quickly after that.
Text Me When It’s Over by immaculately-flawed(K+, 1K+ w., FFnet) - After the fall Sherlock starts writing texts to John. Of course, he never sends them… Until he does by accident. Post Reichenbach fic but not angsty.
Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058(K, 959 w., ffnet) - A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.
Iunctum by Fudgyokra(K, 221 w., FFNet) - He stood still for a long time, staring not so much at the words he’d been sent, but at the signature that marked them: A simple ‘SH,’ neatly tucked at the close of the words ‘I’ve missed you.’” A 221B ficlet; Sherlock’s return from the fall.
The Art Of Communication by StillWaters1(T, 2K+ w., FFNet) - Lestrade was used to getting odd, non sequitur texts from Sherlock. But when “John went out for milk” was followed by a terse “two hours ago,” Lestrade immediately understood three things: John was missing, Sherlock was quietly panicking, and this could all end very, very badly.
LETTERS / EPISTOLARY
Letters by Jenna Flare(T, 2K+ w., FFNet) - John leaves letters on Sherlock’s grave as a method of coping. Sherlock reads them every week. Sherlock/John, John/Mary. T for swearing. Post-Reichenbach
Dear John by starwarsfreak95(T, 601 w. FFNet) - Not all Dear John letters are bad. Sherlock tries to explain to John why he did what he did and how much John means to him.
Pen Pals by WerewolfDoctor(K, 2K w., FFNet) - Most people don’t become pen pals by one of them writing a not-suicide note. Then again, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have never exactly been normal, have they?
In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower(E, 51,639 w., Ao3) - John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing…and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes… and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they’re both so very, very rubbish at talking.
Correspondence by Cleo2010(T, 8031 w., Ao3) – Sherlock’s been spirited away on a case for Mycroft. Part of the deal was that he and John could communicate via letter until the case was completed. Maybe the cliche is true, absence does make the heart grow fonder. Or perhaps something is growing on the feet in the fridge. Read their letters month by month. Written after series one.
White Blank Page by SarahCat1717(M, 11,936 w., Ao3) – Post-fall, Sherlock is off eliminating Moriarty’s crime web. He finds he misses John. He can’t divulge that he still lives, but he placates his need to communicate with John and still feel a connection with him by sending him blank letters. But over time, this writing exercise lends itself to Sherlock exploring his feelings for his friend. What will happen when Sherlock returns to London and the man he has been “writing” to regularly for the past two years? NOT S3 compliant. Mary who?
Winter of Life by You_Light_The_Sky(T, 5178 w., Ao3) – It was an experiment, really. On Christmas, Sherlock wrote to Santa asking for a friend. He got a broken toy soldier instead. This is the story of how he finds him again and again.
Dear John by wendymarlowe(E, 3 Parts, 30,802 w. Ao3) – With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint: it turns out to be Sherlock.)
BLOGS / SCRAPBOOKS / JOURNALS
The Case of the Vanishing Blog by Hekateras (K+, 2K+ w., FFNet) - Sherlock is in it for the hunt. John is in it for the action. Even so, the events at the Pool leave a mark on both, unwilling as they are to admit it.
One-Way Mirror by StormyNight108(K+, 830 w. FFNet) - Post-Reichenbach one-shot. It’s been months since the incident, where a man lost his best friend. Slowly but surely, John’s life is starting to turn up a little. That night, his blog is updated to share good news to his followers, and one anonymous commentator is quick to share his happiness. It’s about as close to his friend as he can get right now.
Don’t Go Without Meby MirabileLectu(T, 1K+ w. FFNet) - Deep in the recesses of the cluttered space under John’s bed, far from the prying eyes of nosy landladies, there is a box.
Journal of Truths by Goddess_of_the_Night(T, 2317 w., Ao3) - When John escorts Sherlock back to Baker Street from the tarmac, he discovers a journal that Sherlock has kept secret…that he has kept secrets in. What he sees when he opens it is nothing like what he expected. He expected scrawling notes of observations, or maths equations, or drawings of plants…anything but what he actually finds: confessions.
You fit me, Sherlock Holmes by orphan_account(G, 10,077 w., Ao3) – An unfortunate series of events leads to John accepting being a part of Sherlock’s study in physical intimacy. As the days pass by, John realizes he might be in for more than he bargained for. He doesn’t entirely mind.
The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst(E, 58,611 w., Ao3) – John Watson thinks Sherlock Holmes should admit that he, Watson, is more of an expert on sex than Sherlock is. But Sherlock refuses to concede the point. He comes up with an experiment plan that will resolve the issue. The results will determine who wins the prize. But sometimes even the best thought-out scientific study has unexpected consequences.
POST-ITS / LISTS
I Believe In Sherlock Holmes by Cennis(K, 2+K w., FFNet) - When John came to Baker Street one Sunday about six months after the funeral and found an elegant wooden cane, expensive-looking yet sturdy, stuffed away in the shoe cupboard, he began ‘blogging’ again. It began with post-it notes. POST-FALL.
In case of emergency by AlessNox(K, 520 w., FFNet) - Sherlock is charged with making a list of what supplies they would need in case of an emergency.
The Three-Word Tin Collection by TheBookshelfDweller(K, 1K+ w., FFNet) - What happens when Sherlock has to store the things he wants to say to John while deconstructing Moriarty’s web, but the Mind palace proves an inadequate place to store them?
206 Reasons by whitchry9(K+, 1K+, FFNet) - John won’t wake up, so Sherlock lists all the reasons why he should. Because he appears to be a bit besotted. How inconvenient.
Because Blah Blah Blah Happy by cwb(E, 4,578 w., Ao3) – John is entirely done with the milk situation and gives Sherlock a list of shit he’s pissed about. Sherlock sets out to make John happy. John is happy. Sherlock makes his own list. They are both very, very happy.
Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish(M, 32,961 w., Ao3) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’, and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts’ now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.
See Recipe for Details by pandoras_chaos(E, 4,981, Ao3) – John knows Sherlock’s mouth will never water over the sweet smells of baking chocolate biscuits or a lovely roast chicken, but he’s watched Sherlock nick mince pies out of Mrs. Hudson’s fridge often enough to deduce that the man does have taste, albeit confusing and obscure. So John makes a list: Things Sherlock Likes
And I have a few on my Marked For Later List which also have this theme. I HAVE NOT READ THEM, so I don’t know what they are like; I was waiting for them to finish before I do. As well, Alexx has a tonne of lists you can check out too!
The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine(T, WIP, Ao3) - John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly and find the truths that matter most.
Letters from Sussex by sussexbound(E, 3 Parts, 160,298 w., Ao3) – In the wake of the Mary/Moriarty affair, John and Sherlock have fallen out, and are living apart. But Sherlock isn’t content with this state of affairs–not one bit. He’s tired of dancing around the obvious.
Can you recommend anything that requires players to draw on relatively off-beat skills? That is, something outside of the usual mix of strategy, politics, social and narrative focus that tabletop RPGs normally have.
It’s based on the 1785 novel, not the Terry Gilliam film, though you’ll get by easily if you’re only familiar with the latter. It’s not the easiest read; the text is written entirely in character as the good Baron, and is thus prone to ramble, pontificate, and go off on bizarre tangents at the drop of a hat. If you can muddle your way through, however, there’s a fascinating little game in there - and in any event, becoming accustomed to the eccentricities of the text is good practice for the mode of speech required in play.
The Extraordinary Adventures of Baron Munchausen is a storytelling game in the most literal sense: play begins with the host (GM) turning to the player to her right and opening with something like the following:
Most honoured and noble Prince, if you could refrain momentarily from the gracious attentions you are paying to my sister, mayhap you might satisfy our curiosity on the matter of how it was that you escaped from the prison of Akkra after you had been burned at the stake there two days earlier?
That player is then obliged to improvise - entirely on the spot - the details of the requested adventure. (An appendix of some two hundred such story seeds is provided if the host can’t think of one.) At any time, however, any other player can wager a coin to interrupt with an objection or correction to the details of the story; the speaker may then incorporate the twist into her narrative, or else wager a coin of her own to reject it with a stern insult to the interrupting party (the insult is mandatory). This goes back and forth until either the story is complete, or two parties reach an impasse, at which point the matter must be resolved with a duel. The text is very clear that this means an actual duel - the kind with swords and pistols - though several less lethal alternatives are provided for the benefit of children and cowards.
(For those whose improv skills aren’t so hot, players are explicitly encouraged to exploit the interruption rules to throw lifelines
to floundering storytellers, so in practice the game
can be as collaborative as you like - you’re not going to be up there on your own, provided you’re not playing with jerks!)
As you may have gathered, you gain coins by accepting and incorporating complications into your stories, and lose coins by rejecting them. Winning isn’t a simple matter of reaching the highest total, however. You see, you don’t get to keep your coins; at the end of the session, each player passes all of the coins she’s won to whichever other player she thinks told the best story. It’s only after this exchange that the coins are totaled and a winner is determined - in effect, what you’re accumulating by accepting wagers isn’t points, but votes.
The text is rounded out with several alternative settings, rules for playing with small children, a Rashomon-like variant in which players compete to determine the truth of an event in which they all ostensibly participated (and each remembers differently), and also, for no particular reason, a tabletop implementation of Mornington Crescent. All in all, it’s a very dense 150 pages - lots of good stuff in there, if you can prise it out of the occasionally impenetrable prose.
- dancing through astral projection or physical form to the sound of the violin and the cheering of ghosts in a haunted house.
- communing with demons on the playground
- cryptid hunting
- muddling through a bog of questions about philosophy and hoping there’s an end I might one day get to.
- watching the world burn
- being super fucking gay
I turn a corner and walk up the
familiar street to Simon’s apartment, not entirely surprised to see
that Simon is already waiting for me on the steps to the front door.
“Let’s go to the park,” he calls as
soon as I’m in earshot. Of course he wants to go, the sun is
aggressively bright, flowers are in bloom, and boys will be wearing
jorts. Its weather outside
today, and I do not want to be part of it. He must see that I’m
about to disagree because he kicks a trash bin.
gone out every night this week, Snow. Let’s just stay in tonight.”
on the steps and cross my arms.
says, “You can go up. Hell, sleep there. Move in. I don’t live
there anyone.” The trash bin receives another blow.
do you live now?”
the” – another kick – “Earth.
Fuck if I know. Why would I” – another kick – “bother living
there anymore. There’s only” – another kick – “one month left
till we graduate and Penny moves to America, so fuck living there,
yeah?” The trash bin has developed a small dent, and it’s evident
why Snow was never admitted to the Watford football team.
known Penny was going to move to America after school. She told us
of us have talked about our plans, even though Penny has been
forthcoming about hers all year. I ask, “Snow, what are you doing
at the end of the month? After graduation?”
just going to keep kicking this trash bin, Baz!” he shouts.
we could follow Penny.” He pauses his assault on the garbage
receptacle. I continue, “I got accepted into a masters program in
her city, so we could move there together.”
and Micah would have their new jobs, you’d be in a masters program,
and what would I do? Sit in your dorm room all day?”
You’d have to do it naked, though.”
rakes his hands through his hair, “No, really, Baz. What would I do
You have wings, Simon. Fly!”
I supply, and I think he might punch me for saying it, which would be fine. Getting punched by Simon Snow is all I’ve ever needed.
“You’re such an idiot,”
he says, but he’s grinning.
you’d figure something out. You always do. What’s keeping you in
quiet for a bit, and I can see him working this out in his head.
you think she’d be OK with us following her to America?” Simon
We should ask her.”
we really do this, I have one contingency.”
gives me a dubious look.
live with me where
ever we go next; we don’t get separate apartments again. That was the
worst idea you’ve ever had.”
~I saw Gray post this on his snapchat (graysondolan) and got inspired to write a cute lil blurb. This is the first thing I’ve written about Grayson, so I’m pretty excited. It’s just off the top of my head. I hope you enjoy!! :)
As always, please forgive any mistakes you might see.
**(No warnings. Just a lil fluff is all. xx)**
”I’m actually gonna kill him,” you mumbled to yourself as you swatted another mosquito invading your personal space. All you wanted was to locate your best friend and get to the bottom of his weird behavior without being attacked by insects every thirty seconds.
He’d been acting so strange the past couple days and neither you, nor his twin brother could pinpoint exactly why. He seemed too far lodged in his head; alone with his cyclone of thoughts. Grayson was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve per say, but he never did develop the toxic habit of shutting you or Ethan out when he wasn’t feeling one hundred percent himself. You desperately wanted to help your best friend, which is why you immediately jumped in the car to find him when you saw the recent addition to his Snapchat story captioned, “Thinkin spot”. You knew exactly where it was, having been there yourself many times.
A/N: Trying desperately to wrap up my 30 days of Jensen and Dean. This is fic number TWENTY-SIX. The line requested was, “I guess that’s what I do. Let down the people I love.” by @plaidstiel-wormstache I know you asked for fluff, and you’ll get it after we muddle through a bit of angst. I apologize, love, but thanks for celebrating with me!This idea popped into my head after seeing THIS gifset. Season 9, Mark of Cain, Dean breaks my heart. He holds a piece of my heart. I had to write this after seeing that gifset. He had to know he wasn’t alone that the things he told himself in the dark, were absolutely and utterly untrue.
gig-economy jobs mostly suck, but the one thing they have going for them is it seems like they’re the only places which will hire people who have been unemployed for any amount of time, so while they overall suck at least they’re a stepping stone out of the purgatory of unemployment
but hey also imagine if businesses fucking hired people who are unemployed so people didn’t have to muddle through the gig economy nether-world before even being considered, or conversely imagine if gig-economy jobs started treating their employees like actual employees
or better yet, imagine if we burned this whole awful economic system to the ground
Summary: A night of drunken fun in Vegas leads to you accidentally getting married to a tall, smirky stranger named Oh Sehun. Things get even more complicated when you hit a $2 million jackpot—neither of you can keep your share of the money unless you try and make the marriage work.
A/N: I am so excited for you to read this one. It’s mostly based off the movie ‘What Happens In Vegas’ (you don’t have to have watched it to read this); but if you’ve seen it, you know what you’re in for. I hope you enjoy!
“…go deeper” you moaned, printing Zach to lift your leg over his shoulder and push himself further into your body. Your mouth formed an ‘O’ shape as Zach slowly pounded into your special spot. You used one hand to grab Zach’s shoulder and he other to grab the sheets besides you.
“Fuck!” Zach moaned as he neared his orgasm. He kissed you roughly as he thrusts began to speed up. The room was filled with your moans, heavy breathing and he sound of the headboard constantly banning into the wall.
Zach felt amazing inside you, he made every inch of your body tingle “Ah-oh my god” you called as you reached the peak of your orgasm then biting down on your bottom lip to shit yourself up. Zach wasn’t finished yet and continued to ride out your orgasm so that he could reach his own. “Shit- I think- I’m cuming” Zach stuttered before closing his eyes and letting out a long deep groan. He then carefully slipped his penis out of you, causing you to man again and causing Zach to chuckle. He then lay on top of you, propping himself up on his arms so that all his weight wasn’t on you and continued to kiss you. Gently gliding his tongue over yours and holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“that. was. amazing” you said in between kisses. Zach just smiled back before placing kissed on your chin, neck and chest- gaining a few giggles from you.
“Zach?” A voice called.
Yourself and Zach immediately jumped up, covering yourselves up with the duvet. It all happened so fast but you manage to catch a glimpse of Zach’s mum stood at the door before she quickly shut it, once she had realised what was going on.
"Sorry…urm- dinners ready” she muddled through the other side of the door.
“Mum. Go” Zach demanded in frustration. You picked up your bra and panties off the floor and began to dress yourself.
"I’m so sorry about that” Zach sighed as he clipped the hooks at the back of your bra on.
You didn’t say anything, just continued to get dressed”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed. My mum, she’s kinda cool with that stuff, she always walks in on me”
“Yeah Zach. I really wanna hear about you hooking up with other women” you say sarcastically as you pulled your shirt over your head.
"Sorry babe. I wasn’t thinking”
—— 5 weeks later ——–
You hadn’t talked to Zach much since the day his mum walked in on you two at it. I guess you we’re avoiding him because you we’re embarrassed. The convocations you did have would only be through texts or quick catch ups in the hallway, on the way to lessons. And that wasn’t right.
You walked into the sports hall on your lunch break and saw Zach practicing his shooting.
You just sat on the bench and waited for Zach to turn around and notice you.
“Holy shit Y/N, you cared me” Zach grasped as he held his chest. You chuckled and walked over to him with our hands in our jacket pockets. To your own surprise, you hugged him, tightly clenching onto his sweaty body.
"What was that for?” Zach asked you as it stepped away from him “I thought you wasn’t talking to me?”
“I was- I mean- I am” you say “I was just embarrassed about the whole thing.
"Right” he answered. He jogged over to the ball and picked it up. You watched as he began to shoot hops again, completely ignoring your presence.
“Are you mad at me?” You question
"Can you blame me?” He responds “You’ve been treating me like shit”
You scoff and shake your head in disbelief “..well I need to talk to you so..
"I’m listening” Zach interrupts then jumps up to shoot another hoop. And of course, he doesn’t miss.
“At least look at me, damn”
Zach ignores you and you raise your eyebrow, the only sound in the hall being his shoes sliding across the floor and the ball hitting he net. You begin to crack your knuckles (nervous habit) then looked around the hall to assure yourself no body was listening, so that you could blurt out
“Zach. Im pregnant”
Zach watched he ball shoot through the hoop with his arms still in the air. He then turns around and faces you
“What did you just say?” He asks
"I’m pregnant” you repeat- this time slightly quieter
“No” Zach says, running his hand through his hair “Your not pregnant. We used a condom”
"Are you saying I’m lying?”
“That’s not what I’m sayi-
You fling your backpack off your shoulder and rummaged through it for the positive pregnancy test you had taken exactly two days ago. You throw it to Zach and he inspects it.
"Are you sure? Did you do it right?”
"There’s not many ways to pee on a fucking stick Zach”
He turns it over
"Fuck!” Zach yells sending an echo through the room.
“Yeah, I know” you agree “What are we going to do?”
"I don’t know. I don’t want this. I wanted to go to school and become a fucking marine biologist, not end up on teen mom” he stresses, all in one breath.
“I know it’s not what you want but I’m carrying your baby Zach. It’s already happening, so what the fuck are we going to do?”
"I don’t know Y/N. I just…I don’t know, ok?”
Zach hands you the pregnancy test. You take it from him and just watch as he lowers into the ground, burying his head in his hands. You felt bad for him, really bad.
"Zach?” You called but he doesn’t look up at you. You crouch down I front of him and gently grab his arm “Baby, everything’s gonna be fine. You can still go to school”
“And what about you?” He sniffles “What about your future?”
He want crying but was damn sure on the verge of it.
“..Don’t worry about me. I guess, this baby is my future now” you tell him
"Don’t say that Y/N” Zach says, finally meeting his eyes with yours. You linger in each other eye for a moment before the sound of scuffling feet grabs your attention. You snap your head and see the coach jogging in, making you and Zach stand to your feet.
“Y/L/N your not supposed to be in there. Dempsey doesn’t need any distractions right now” he calls
"Yeah I was just leaving” you tell him
The coach holds the door open for you, letting you know you’ve outstayed your welcome.
You look up at Zach “just call me or I’ll call you or whatever” Zach nods in response and you smile before making an exit out the building.
Well damn😳what d'you guys think of this one x
student info: Junk, the student assistant librarian
The library is an odd place, and the librarians are an odd bunch. There’s the research librarian who hunts monsters; there’s the one who smells like fig newtons and seems to live and breathe books and only books, as if bound somehow to the library itself; there’s the… some guy, you think, who helps with reshelving (and “some guy” is not at all an accurate description of… whoever or whatever he is, but you don’t dare risk any other description) and, of course, the head librarian. The head librarian is called Irons, and her name suits her. Mrs. Irons is rarely seen, but when she does show up, everything- everything- falls silent. They say Mrs. Irons once shushed the Wild Hunt. You almost believe it. They say she learned the true name of one of the Gentry, and put him to work in the library as an unpaid intern. You don’t know about that, but you don’t look up when you hear some guy shuffling a book cart around the shelves.
And then there’s the student assistant librarian.
The student assistant librarian is exhausted and stressed all the time. Usually she says her name is Junk, but sometimes she gets confused and introduces herself as something else instead- not ever her true name, no, just whatever she happens to blurt out. She’s used to false names. She wears boots with iron hobnails and sweaters inside out and cargo pants with a hundred things in their pockets; her hair is usually uncombed but always smells of witch hazel. She’s tall, but she has the sort of permanent stoop you get from keeping your eyes on the ground all your life. She’s personable, but she doesn’t do well when conversations go off script. She never makes eye contact, and her dark eyes move oddly when she looks around- as though there are things in the room she wants to avoid seeing. She lies as often as she tells the truth, seemingly without reason. Her lies are always either entirely inconsequential or unconvincing to the point of absurdity, but she always delivers them with the same impossibly straight face.
The job is minimum-wage work study; you’re not sure how many hours they’re even allowed to give a student each week, but it seems like Junk is always in the library. There’s a dingy old microwave behind the circulation desk and a pile of clothes from the lost and found that could conceivably be a bed, if you’re an exhausted college student who doesn’t want to risk the trek back across campus at three in the morning. (Any time but three in the morning, freshmen quickly learn- you can be a night owl all you like, but three in the morning is not our time.)
The student assistant librarian, whose name is usually Junk, is on the brink of flunking all her classes and always behind on reshelving. This is understandable. She is a student and an assistant librarian, but the real task of the student assistant librarian has little to do with either of those things. The library is an odd place and it is full of odd things, things odder even than the librarians. It is the task of the student assistant librarian to provide protection between the library and the students. She wanders the shelves with silver studs in her ears, washers on a chain around her neck, salt in her boots, a hand-crank flashlight in her pocket, and a crumpled guide to the Dewey Decimal system in her hand. She recites a poem as she walks, not because it keeps her safe but just because it’s her favorite stim: feeling the rhymes and rhythms on her own tongue, finding the patterns, finding the sense. It helps keep her calm- and she needs to be calm when she walks the shelves.
She finds the students who have wandered into danger; she finds the danger that has wandered into the library. She sorts things out. She chews her lips bloody inside every time she goes into the deep shelves, but she sorts things out. She knows exactly how to deal with the Gentry, and exactly how to avoid dealing with them. She is not all-powerful, nor does she think of herself as particularly heroic, but she is smart and she is stubborn and when you are in her library you will be safe.
There’s a rumor that Junk was born with the Sight. You’re not sure if that’s true- you’re not sure if that’s possible- but when you look at her, this strange gangling girl who strides into the deep shelves every night for minimum wage and strides back out again with lost students at her side, this girl who knows every rule for every interaction with the Gentry, this girl that lies as easily as breathing and once accidentally introduced herself as Captain Kirk, this girl that you once saw crying into a cup of E-Z Mac behind the circulation desk… when you look at her, you think that if anyone was ever born with the Sight, it was probably Junk.
You do not envy her that.
She has a cat, officially registered with the school as a support animal for her autism. It is grey, a bit chubby, incredibly loving, dumb as a box of rocks and about as energetic, and all in all one of the most aggressively mundane animals you’ve ever seen. Perhaps that’s why the Gentry have never messed with it- or maybe that’s because Junk has always ensured that the cat is as protected as it is possible for any animal to be: an iron-buckled collar of brass bells, fur washed with witch hazel water she’s left in the moonlight, salt packets sewn into its support animal vest, no name given, and always at her side. It does not chase mice in the library. It does not chase anything at all, nor has it ever attempted to drink or eat from the offerings that students leave out. Maybe, upon reflection, it isn’t actually that dumb.
On the occasions she actually manages to make it to class, she usually falls asleep on her tiny desk within ten minutes. Even in small classes, most of her classmates don’t want to wake her. Student assistant librarian is not an easy job, and it is only decency to allow her rest where she can find it. Her grades suffer, but she will return to the library for her shift, and when you are in her library, you will be safe.
Junk doesn’t have a major. Even after two years, she’s still muddling through her gen eds. She doesn’t often talk about her family- at least, she doesn’t often tell the truth about them- but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love them. Sometimes, at Elsewhere, it’s best to keep the things you love secret. Her family, whoever they are, wherever they are, are proud that their daughter made it to university. They do not know about her job, or the duty that comes along with it. They especially do not know about her grades.
Finals week is hard on everyone, but it also means that the number of students in the library increases tenfold- and so does the number of other things. Finals week is the most dangerous time of year, more dangerous even than the ravages of Spring Break, and it is the duty of the student assistant librarian to provide protection between the library and the students. She stays up all night herding the desperate studiers out of the unsafe places; she takes her exams as quickly as she can (too quickly) and then races back to the library to fetch those who have gone missing in her absence. It is not uncommon to see Junk full-on sprinting down the campus sidewalks during finals week, lanky limbs akimbo, hair wild, cat peeking out of her backpack. As hard as she runs, though, she never cuts a corner from the safe pathways.
Not a single student has been Taken* from the library since she started work- an unprecedented record. She’s proud of that, even and especially on days when she’s too exhausted to put three sentences together, let alone write a timed essay. It seems unfair to give a job like this to a full-time student, and it is- but there is something about it that’s vital that the student assistant librarian must be both student and librarian. They must be a go-between. They must walk both worlds. They must provide protection.
(*She found a philosophy student halfway to the Barony once, miles past the marble palace in the reference section. He was lost and glamour-dazed, but not yet Taken, not all the way. She gave him half the sandwich she had in her pocket (the other half went back into the pocket, just in case) and led him back to the circulation desk in time for the end of night shift- the journey had been several days, she was certain, but time passed differently in the library. Two weeks later, the same philosophy student went missing from a party, and never reappeared. Junk couldn’t do anything about that; he wasn’t in her library. But no one gets taken from her library.)
Junk never asks for anything in return from the students she rescues from the deep shelves- it is her duty, after all, and duty means a bargain bigger, more binding, and more sacred than any trade between students. Still, it might be a good idea to help her with her classwork. After all, if she flunks out, the school is unlikely to get another student assistant librarian like this one.
((Hope this is alright! Wasn’t sure how to submit this but… Junk and Mrs. Irons are original characters of mine, sliding into Elsewhere University AU-wise. Anyone who wants to can find out more about them and their other lives (and talk to Junk!) at my blog @deweydeadcimal.))
It’s been a long time coming, but here’s your teaser for tomorrow:
“I-” Yuuri starts. He reaches out to touch Victor’s shoulder. “I can’t tell what you’re feeling at all,” he says. “The bond. It’s- it’s almost gone.” He hopes Victor understands what he means - that Yuuri wants him to talk about his feelings instead of him trying to muddle them out through a declining bond.
Victor turns back towards him, eyes sliding to the fading mark on Yuuri’s neck. “It didn’t last long, did it?”
Sooooo I just saw Wonder Woman (awesome movie, I am So Very Gay for Diana, well most of the amazons to be honest), and when it showed where she works in the modern day, well… I couldn’t resist this. Seriously, someone stop me with these headcanon posts.
It didn’t take long for Master Fu and Diana to gravitate towards each other.
They end up having weekly tea together at Master Fu’s, because sometimes you just need to talk to someone who understands, a little, about what you’re going through.
Diana’s seen what’s going on with all of the akuma.
She nearly had a hissy fit when Copycat stole the Mona Lisa.
YOU DO NOT MESS WITH HER MUSEUM GOT IT.
However she has even less of an idea of where to find Hawkmoth than the others, and there’s no way she can purify akuma, soooo
On Master Fu’s request, she says out of the fights.
One day during tea, though, Master Fu asks for a favor.
Ladybug and Chat have been doing wonderfully, but they’re still just kids, and untrained for actual fights.
Honestly they’ve been muddling through and hoping for the best and Fu and Diana can both see that.
Fu is too old, otherwise he’d have already done so, but…
He asks his old friend if she could see about giving them a little training.
Diana’s not sure, she has no real experience with training someone else, especially those with powers that she has no way to figure out.
“Basic combat skills are still doable, though, and you’re probably the only hero on the planet who can train Ladybug with her yoyo.”
Diana agrees to give it a trial run.
Master Fu passes on to Marinette that he’s arranged for training for her and Chat, and to meet their teacher at this place and time.
Diana arrives early and hides, watching as Ladybug and Chat Noir show up and begin bantering and teasing and flirting with each other as they wait.
It hits her just how tiny and young they are.
These are KIDS going into battle.
She almost backs out then and there but she couldn’t live with herself if she left them defenseless.
The high pitched noise that Chat makes when she steps out to greet them could shatter glass.
“OH MY GOSH YOU’RE WONDER WOMAN YOU’RE THE MOST AMAZING HERO EVER.”
Ladybug is less gush-y but still as awestruck.
They are decidedly less awestruck by the end of training that night.
And plotting how to get back at Master Fu.
THEIR EVERYTHING HURTS.
But they also don’t want to disappoint the slavedriver Wonder Woman so they keep coming back for more training.
Diana told herself she wasn’t going to get attached.
Haha how’s that working out for ya.
These kids are adorable and precious and she loves them.
Chat is just a walking ray of sunshine and goofy smiles and awful jokes and a bonedeep sadness that she wishes she could wipe away.
Ladybug is a tiny little firecracker that would have been right at home among the Amazons, a born leader and strategist who’s still sweet and kind and brave in the way that only true heroes can be, where you’re terrified but will still put your life on the line to do what’s right.
One night it’s just her and Chat for training because Ladybug had a family thing she couldn’t get out of.
And the sunshine kitty is just so down and his heart isn’t in training.
So she goes and gets them a couple pints of ice cream and they sit down on a roof and she gets him to spill.
And it all comes out, the loneliness, his father’s emotional abuse and neglect, everything.
And Diana is sitting there trying not to crush her spoon in her fury because who could ever hurt this sweet sunshine kitten?
That’s it, he’s her son now.
Chat is so very confused but he’s not going to question why Wonder Woman is suddenly mothering him.
The mothering quickly extends to Ladybug, even if she doesn’t need it like Chat does.
She tells them where to find her as a civilian, in case they ever truly need her help.
One day, a blonde teen boy ends up in her office, carrying a backpack and looking upset.
Before she can even ask-
“Did you mean it? When you said…”
And it hits her all at once that this is her cat son and he probably just ran away from home and she recognizes his face from the ads all over Paris and yup this just got a lot more complicated.
But Diana’s never let that stop her before, so she’ll find a way to help Adrien.
Later, at the Hall of Justice: Batman: Wonder Woman, why do you have a boy in a leather cat suit under your arm? Wonder Woman: He’s my son now. No takebacks.