need to find a man who will appreciate this

dating yoongi [realistically]

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

jungkook l taehyung

important: please remember that everything I wrote down is my own personal opinion. I do not know Yoongi personally, so this is based on my imagination of ‘’realistic’’ only.

• first things first ; he really doesn’t care about appearance. he said this a lot of times and actually out of all people in bangtan, he is the only one I truly do believe. (not that I shame on the other members, it’s natural after all)

• so I can imagine him being with any type of woman out there

• yoongi is really wise for his age, he has gone through a lot as well so I believe a girl that is close to his age with life experience would work the best for him

• he is a really simple and easy-going person so someone that is calm and nice is probably his type

• so if yoongi would start liking you he would probably not try to tell you right away

• he would wait or not tell you at all because he’s afraid he’ll get hurt

• you probably being the one who breaks down his walls and tell him that you like him a lot

• I have a feeling he can be really insecure about himself so he would probably think you’re too good for him

• but once you’re his girlfriend you would make sure to make him feel so loved and relevant

• he could get so cuddly once he’s in the mood

• but could also get so distant at times for no certain reason

• he’s really unpredictable

• since he’s bad at expressing his feelings with words he wouldn’t be able to say I love you easily

• but he would write so many songs about you

• you would bag him to show you some of them but he would probably just smile
• “no, not yet”

• if you finally hear them, you’d probably be so touched, maybe even cry (if you’re a soft stan like me) and he would be so happy and chuckle at your reactions

• lots of hugs honestly

• you being his own sweet getaway from the harsh cold world

• if he is feeling down or just turns more quiet than usual ; best way to find out what’s bothering him is probably just looking at him softly and taking his hand

• just so you’d make sure he knows you’re there

• days where you just lay on the bed next to each other; he’s working on his music while you’re scrolling down your phone or reading a book

• both of you being really content even though you don’t talk during those moments

• because simply your presence would make him feel so much better

• yoongi being happy and content would turn out to be a common thing with you by his side

• him writing you letters once a while when he’s on tour
• (after seeing that he wrote 300 for armys)

• he’s so calm most of the time, I’ve never seen him angry and I feel like when he’s mad, he isn’t the type of man who would yell at you

• he’s more of the silent treatment type

• so you would barely fight probably

• especially in the beginning of your relationship

• because you’re both really mature and don’t get mad for simple things

• but if it comes to a fight it’s probably settled quickly simply because the one who did a mistake would apologize

• if you’d be upset or cry he probably wouldn’t know how to comfort you at first

• it would turn really awkward for him

• but when there are phases where you are really unhappy with yourself or how things never work out for you he would support you as much as he can

• because he knows how much it hurts to be alone and have no one who truly believes in you

• you’re always eating together

• your favorite kind of date is probably just being lazy and eating as much as you can

• instead of buying you expensive presents I can imagine him giving you a lot of self made things

• cute selfies

• the members being surprised that you’re the only person he doesn’t mind spending 24/7 of his time with since he’s usually the one likes to have his own space

• probably not the jealous type

• type of person who secretly stresses over stuff that he doesn’t need to

• but if he would get jealous and he knows it’s just because he’s insecure ; he wouldn’t tell you

• because as I said, I believe yoongi is mature enough and he owns a big understanding heart, so that’s probably the reason he wouldn’t tell you

• your happiness would be his biggest priority after all

• he doesn’t look like a great texter; so I believe he wouldn’t really contact you that often through texts if you’re apart

• he would call you though

• especially once he gets comfortable around you he wouldn’t be ashamed to call you as much as he would want

• which could turn out to be a regular thing

• but there could also be times where he wouldn’t call you for days/maybe even a week

• but I have a feeling that if you’re dating yoongi, you wouldn’t have to talk to him everyday

• like he would be one of those people in your life that you could go on days without talking and it wouldn’t change anything about the strong bond that you have

• because you understand that both of you are busy and you don’t need to constantly check up on each other to know you love each other

• type of man who is there for you whenever you need him but also leaves you alone if you want him to

• if he’s grumpy you’d know how to cheer him up

• like he’d be so whipped for the girl he loves

• but sometimes he could be really harsh without wanting to

• again, pda wouldn’t be a thing

• even though some people see yoongi as dominant and “daddy material” I couldn’t ever imagine him having a kink like that

• among all of the seven members I feel like he would take the longest time to give in and have sex with you

• maybe that’s also because of the insecurities he has sometimes

• he once said how he wants to be taller, more tan and have a beard (so you have a feeling what type of man he actually wants to be)

• he seems so sensitive/sensible & soft most of the time

vanilla sex mostly

definitely falls asleep after sex

• he seems like a person who thinks a lot so deep conversations & nonsense conversations

• his gummy smile

• yoongi being completely and helplessly in love would make every single soul around him feel so much happiness for him

• because he’s so special and people know that

• the members being happy

• you both being happy

• so even though min yoongi is a lazy man and sometimes really hard to understand, he also couldn’t be much more understanding towards his loved ones.

• he is someone who will never need a lot to be content with his life

• especially after finding the one he truly loves, he could maybe even start to appreciate living a bit more

I need to remember it is OK to ask for what I want and need. Reconnecting with others is fun and priceless.

On another note, I had a friend jokingly tell me that there could be a man with two penises. (Long story). He sent me a story from Reddit, which led to finding this individual’s book.

I appreciate that he is willing to share his story with others. Being authentic and “different” than the norm is challenging. Truthfully, we are all different because of our experiences, talents, desires…etc. But sometimes it is easy to feel alone and misunderstood.

One section of his story stands out,…“I think that’s something important that everyone should know, who hasn’t experienced it yet. Considering the content of this book I don’t know how many younger people will read this but it’s important that they know. All that shit doesn’t matter in the real world. The grief kids give you, the needless insanity will go away. You just have to hold out long enough. They aren’t worth screwing yourself up, or even worse, ending your own life. I had some seriously dark moments in my final months of high school. As you already know I had wanted to have one of my dicks cut off. I can see why other guys and girls at that age would think about suicide. Don’t do it. The people causing you that pain aren’t worth your life, your soul and immortality. Yeah, I’m Christian and I believe there’s more beyond death. You don’t have to believe that, it’s your choice. But what if there is? Suicide is just going to close that door forever. Anyway, I’ll move on from religion. It’s not popular and it’s because of the people who follow it, not the message under it all; which is love. Just remember, treat everyone the way you want to be treated. Don’t bully someone, or give someone grief just because you feel like shit. What hurts you, hurts me, what scars you scars others. Why leave a negative mark on another person? Especially when you can do so much more for them by being kind. It’s worth thinking about. Just remember, good comes back to you whenever you put it out there. No matter where you send goodness and love, it will find it’s way back to you. It may not happen tomorrow and it may not come back from the person or place you sent it. But trust me when I tell you, it comes back to you.“I think you might like this book – “Double Header: My Life with Two Penises” by Diphallic Dude.

I agree wholeheartedly! “What hurts you, hurts me.”… "Good comes back to you….”

I haven’t finished his story and understand he is here on Tumblr should you want to learn more of his experience.

rebelcaptain || arranged royal marriage AU: the ball part 1

Baze brings her the final list of candidates, his face grumpier than usual, which Jyn appreciates as it matches her mood. She’s in her library, which will eventually be converted into her future husband’s quarters, and she stares out the window with the view of the pond and wonders what he will be like, whoever he will be, and whether or not he will appreciate the view that she’s loved most of her life or if he’ll simply keep the curtains drawn.

“I do not understand the need to rush this step,” he grunts, placing the leather-bound folio into her hands.

“I suppose everyone would prefer to make this match before I actually have a chance to fall in love with someone myself,” she says, thinking of the first boy who had dared to find the courage to kiss her, and then to the young man at university she’d fallen in with, who had given her an inkling of what love might have felt like, even if it was only a poor approximation of it. But she still opens the folio, pulling out each clipped-together profile.

“I am sorry, but if they think they can reign you in, highness, then they are foolish.” 

Jyn reaches out and takes Baze’s hand, squeezing it. “You don’t need to say you are sorry, Baze,” she smiles. “In part because I know you’re not.”

“What are the chances that you won’t have to do this, princess?” Baze asks, straightening himself up, checking his emotions.

Jyn fans out the stack of profiles, photographs of each candidate clipped to the edge of each packet. It’s a wealth of handsome faces and titles and names of repute. She pulls out the photo of the first face in the stack and glances at it–Cassian Andor of the House of Fest–then throws it back down on the table.

“The question is,” she tells Baze, “what choice do I have?

Keep reading

Even more out-of-context quotes I've heard at school

“Yo, who farted in your face?”

“Okay, I have a question. Who takes chemistry and knows how the fuck to do this shit?”


“One day you’ll find someone who’ll appreciate your farts”

“Titties, titties, titties- no that’s a guy”

“I believe in spaghetti”

“Let’s trap it with education”

“Hold up, hold up, hold up, I need science”

“Come on Adian, let’s take a mystical adventure to the computers”

“I’ll show you my true IMac daddy rap skills”

“Who’s the guy that deepthroats bananas down there?”


“I want a little bit slower metabolism so I can get tHICC”

“My dick looks like a mozzarella stick”

“Guys, I lit a minion plush on fire last night”

“Dude, I was listening to waluigi noises for three hours straight”

“I’m in touch with my true spirit animal,,,a shitzu”


February 19th, 2019

Haven’t written in my blog for a while but I felt like now was a good time to start it up again. You see, the strangest thing happened to me.I received a Valentine’s card in the post six days ago. A Valentine’s card from my three year old daughter. A Valentine’s card in a red envelope. It had little love heart stickers dotted all over it and pink glitter spelling out my name.Now Rosie’s pretty smart ( for a three year old). Even Sherlock thinks she has masses of potential. He tells me that all the time. However, she still hasn’t mastered the art of formally posting a letter. She also doesn’t usually address me as John. Someone therefore had to have helped her to make and post the Valentine’s card in question. The list of suspects for me to choose from was very limited.

Mrs Hudson

The Pope
The Queen

This is the order I questioned them in. Just joking….I never bothered asking Mycroft.

Every one of the real suspects provided good reasons/alibis as to why it wasn’t them. All except one.

Can you guess which one?

When I got round to questioning suspect number four, he ( like the rest of them) was adamant that it simply wasn’t him. He casually suggested that it must have been ‘Hudders’ and she’d just forgotten in her old age. Well, he actually blamed something else entirely but I don’t want to repeat that here! Let’s just say he blamed her pressure point and leave it at that! Anyway, after Sherlock started frantically finger pointing in everyone else’s direction, I knew for definite that it was him.So I lied to him.I lied to the worlds only consulting detective and he fell for it hook, line and sinker. I told him that I had Greg (Lestrade) run the card for fingerprints. His face! His actual face when I said that! He actually asked me if Rosie’s finger prints were in the police system! When I started laughing he didn’t join in. He was being serious.

When I think about it, I don’t know why I asked the others first. It should have been obvious who helped Rosie from the moment the postman handed me the card. Sherlock’s always doing arts and crafts with her. He secretly loves glitter. Mrs Hudson is forever moaning about the amounts of glitter being sucked up into the good Hoover. Sometimes I’ll get in after a long hard shift at the surgery and when I enter Baker Street, there they are, my daughter and the ‘mad man’, lying there on the sofa, sprawled out, their exhausted sleeping faces caked in all the sparkling colours of the rainbow.

The last time Rosie and Sherlock had the paints out, Mycroft had shown up unexpectedly. Rosie accidentally tipped a red paint pot over his fancy shoes and Sherlock gave her a biscuit as a reward. When Rosie toddled over to Mycroft with the splatter painting she had made and offered it to him ( her version of a sincere apology) Sherlock just glared at him until Mycroft reluctantly accepted it. Sherlock took his hesitation as a personal insult to my daughter’s artistic abilities. God help Rosie’s future teachers! I could only laugh as Sherlock demanded that his brother leave, whilst mumbling something under his breath about the painting being better than some of the pretentious rubbish Mycroft had on his walls at home. Funny because it’s actually true!

Anyway, you might still be wondering what happened after my finger print lie forced a confession from Sherlock.He was affronted about the whole situation obviously. Couldn’t look me in the eye. I was (admittedly) being quite wicked about the whole thing.I really enjoyed making him squirm. However, as he gradually became more uncomfortable, I almost felt bad…almost…

I asked him why he had written John on the front of the card. He looked at me with utter confusion before stating that it was in actual fact my name and what else would he possibly have put.When I reminded him that Rosie’s name for me is dad, he looked even more affronted.When I questioned him on his use of pink glitter he became incredulous.These were his actual words…direct quote……

“Really, John! Can you give your daughter no credit for this situation? It was the colour she chose when I asked her to pick one for you. She also helped me sprinkle it. If you don’t believe me then have Gavin dust the glitter tube for fingerprints.Surely, as my willing accomplice, Rosie must take her share of the blame in this!I don’t know why this has grown into such a big issue.Why this card annoys you so much. It was meant to make you smile. You have been so sad recently and I concluded it was because you missed having companionship in your life, as you stopped dating after Mary and it’s been three years.I researched this extensively before deciding on the best course of action.A card on an occasion like this, from ones child, is meant to make the recipient feel valued, appreciated and loved.It is not meant to make them launch a full scale inquiry!Does it disturb you because I made an error and wrote John?I’m sorry for the Freudian slip but perhaps I was trying to remind you that Rosie is not the only person left on this earth that deeply loves and values you.”

Amazing that he can remember what he says word for word really,otherwise I couldn’t have put this in the blog. I was too busy having a complete moment of clarity/internal crisis , to pay full attention to what he was saying.There he was, standing there pleading his case like an accused would to the jury, and all I could think about was that he had just admitted how much he loved and valued me.

It worried me that he actually thought I was viewing the whole situation negatively. He couldn’t see how absolutely moved I was that he’d taken the time to help my daughter do something like that for me. Nobody else had even thought of doing that. For all of their goodness, friendship and humanity, not one of my other friends realised that I was getting to a point were I actually needed to be reminded that I was loved. Not one person except Sherlock Holmes understood that.

Sherlock was standing there giving his big drama queen spiel and all I could think about, was if he knew exactly how much he was loved and valued. Did he know that everything he had done ( particularly in the last three years) was appreciated. The man who stayed up all night and shot holes in the wall, was now ( mostly) going to bed at reasonable hours so he could get up and give Rosie her breakfast in the morning if I had to work a nightshift. The man who had eyeballs in his fridge and forensic slides everywhere, suddenly had spaces full of stuffed toys in his living room and he had willingly put them there.The man who would spend hours on his science of deduction website was now cutting it short to watch YouTube videos about sewing, cooking and how to do braiding, buns and French plaits.I suddenly, in that moment, needed him to know how much he was appreciated for all of that. The only problem with that plan was that there was no time to find the pink glitter and Rosie was down for her afternoon nap. So I had to improvise. I had been moving steadily closer to him during his rant and was mere inches from him when insanity finally took over.

I kissed him.

My lips merged with his, my arms wrapped around his back and I clung on for dear life, fearing that this would be the one and only time I would be permitted to completely open myself up and to show this man exactly what he meant to me. To show him the depth of feeling that he could stir in me at the most unexpected of moments.

As the lustful haze from my wreck less decision cleared, and just before the guilt of my actions began to form, I fully expected to be pushed away and reprimanded for selfishly violating him and his trust.I expected to be looked at indifferently and told in no uncertain terms that he was still married to his work. I did not expect his hands to find their way to my neck, or his tongue to be the one to push itself into my mouth. I imagined the noises from him to be protests rather than the guttural and raw moans of my name filling my ears in bursts of pink glitter. I never expected his body to be completely receptive to my touch and willing to press itself so intimately and tightly against my own. I expected it to be over in 30 seconds, not reaching well over five minutes of nervous fumbling and slow caresses.

When we finally did manage to prise ourselves apart, the room was filled with stunned silence. Neither of us had saw this coming. We spent a good five mins just catching our breaths and staring at one another, trying to work out how we had ended up at this point. It was Sherlock who broke the silence first. He started laughing.He was laughing the way he had done in our very first night together. It felt surreal.It wasn’t the time for laughing, not really.We were the dearest of friends. Our lives together and what we did with them mattered to a great many people. We had just decided to gamble with those lives and things weren’t ever going to be the same again. How could they be? No matter how much we would try and convince ourselves, we had just drew a very final line under the last ten years. What happened from now on would be a new beginning. It had to be. I didn’t feel like laughing was the appropriate response to that. Confusion and being scared shitless was the appropriate response to that. However, Sherlock’s laughter filled the room around us.It was infectious.I began to laugh as well.It was ridiculous.We should have been talking.We should have been working through what just happened.Instead we were standing in the kitchen of 221B Baker Street laughing our heads off.We had nearly ripped the clothes from each other’s backs, that how passionate we had gotten only ten mins before, and now we were standing at a distance with our laughs mingling in the air between us.

We didn’t have the talk that night.

Mrs Hudson appeared to tell us that Lestrade had tried to phone several times but there was no answer. That’s when the laughing quickly stopped. The game was on. We could never discuss this whilst the game was on.

Two days later and the case was solved.We still hadn’t talked about what happened in our kitchen.I went straight to the clinic after we left the crime scene and Sherlock agreed to go home and see to Rosie.It was a further 16 hours before I entered Baker Street again.

A similar and comforting sight met me when I emerged from the entrance of the flat into the living room.There was Sherlock lying sprawled on the couch, cradling Rosie in his arms.Face full of glitter.Faint scratch on his neck from were I had clawed a bit too possessively two nights before. The scene felt normal and abnormal all at the same time.

I made my way into the kitchen and was met with a tea tray of biscuits, a vase with a single red rose and a red envelope with dad/John written on it.Intrigued, I opened it and this is what was inside…

Dear Dad,

Sherlock helped me to make the last card because he felt that it was very important that you know how much I love and appreciate you. I think that you are the most wonderful father and that you have a very fetching name.Thats why I asked him to help me sprinkle it in pink glitter on the card.
However, this card is not from me. I am just helping Sherlock write it because he’s useless with feelings. After discussing it with him, I’ve come to the conclusion that he is completely in love with you. Has been for years.He was just too scared to admit it to himself up until now.He wants to spend the rest of his life with you. He doesn’t want to waste anymore time. He knows this changes everything and he’s glad of it.Quite frankly ( if you want my opinion and Hudders opinion regarding this situation) you’ve been living with one another for years anyway, so you both might as well get some sex from this situation. What do you say?

Love Rosie x

P.s if you agree to this then come into the living room and wake Sherlock up with a kiss.

I started laughing again.I started laughing again and then I kissed him.

Why have I bothered to tell you all this? It’s not a real case after all.So why have I chosen this very intimate story about our lives together, to be the first thing I’ve blogged about for years? Well, It’s because I think it’s about time that the world knew the secret that’s been kept for a very long time. The Secret of Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes is so much more than the legend that’s been built up around him by myself and the media.The Valentine’s story is a symbol of who he really is.The heart as well as the brain. Not a freak, not a sociopath. Sherlock Holmes is the man who commands the whole of Scotland Yard one moment and then covers himself in pink glitter the next, all because my daughter demands it. Sherlock Holmes is the man who prides himself on being the smartest person in the room, but will mortify himself at the drop of a hat, all to show me that I am loved.

That’s who he really is.

I am so grateful that is who he really is.

I love him because that is who he really is.


“What do you think?

Sherlock had been perched on the seat next to John the whole time he was reading his blogger’s newest creation. The only indication of how affected he was came from the roughness of his voice when he finally decided to reply.

“Thank you John.Thank you.Though always remember that I would be nothing without my blogger.”

Sherlock bent down and kissed John on the head before deciding to speak again.

“You know you can’t actually post it though, don’t you.”

John shut the laptop over and sat it next to them on the couch.He turned to Sherlock and worryingly pulled the younger man’s hand into his own.

“Why not?”

Sherlock began to slowly run his fingers up and down John’s wrist as he traced circles on his skin.It reminded him of all the times previously that their hands had touched.In friendship, tragedy, anger and love. He was eventually pulled out of his thoughts by the soldier who was nervously licking his lips whilst impatiently staring at him.

“Mary was right, John .Who we really are, doesn’t matter. Not to them.Not to the ones outside Baker Street that read about our cases and sit in our client’s chairs.The only people it matters to are us, our friends and our Rosie.What you have just written is truly wonderful to me but …”

“it’s private…”

“Yes, John…”

“Okay, Sherlock. Okay.I won’t publish it.”

John lifted his laptop, opened the tab and began typing a sentence before clicking a button on the computer that allowed the draft copy of his blog to start printing. It was now Sherlock’s turn to wait patiently for John to explain what he was doing.

“Before I delete it from existence, I’m firstly going to print it out, frame it and put it in our bedroom. For our eyes only.It’s my valentine’s gift to you.”

Sherlock excitedly pulled the paper from the printer and couldn’t help but notice an obvious change to the piece that he had read only moments before.

“You changed the title, John”

“Yes. Seemed more fitting.”

“The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes.That might be your best case title yet, John!”

John grabbed Sherlock by the hand and began leading him towards their bedroom.

“Let’s go pick a spot for this.”

“Could take a while, Doctor Watson.There are a few positions I would like to test out

‘Oh,believe me, I’m counting on that, Mr.Holmes.”


Hello everyone! Since I didn’t do any follow forever last year I decided that it would be better to do a follow spree because I follow only 100 blogs and most are still disabled. I’ld like you to help me find more people so please, reblog or like this post so I can verify each one! And also I’ld like when you reblog put on the tag which of the following things is currently being constant in your blog. 
Now I’ll put here what I’ld like to find in a blog so I can follow:


  • D GRAY MAN (you need it ofc)
  • Pandora Hearts
  • Hunter x Hunter
  • Gintama

Anime Genre

  • Historical
  • Seinen
  • Shounen

Colors of posts:

  • I appreciate more vibrant colors and monochrome (and some pastel + dark) 

BONUS (its necessary ok bc i’ll probably take this as a base for the follow):

  • Aesthetic / Photography / Typography / Fanarts (not repost only original tumblr maker)
  • Kpop/ Kdrama
  • Tv Show / Movies / Animations
  • Gfx and Gif maker
  • Following me

Thanks for everyone who read and gave me attention and also another special comment: I’m very happy and truly thankful for those one who put me on their FOLLOW FOREVER its was really nice I felt very honored! Oh, and ofc all my followers are specials for me and to my mutuals/friends (THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT AND ALWAYS BEING SO NICE WITH ME)

scribblerage  asked:

If it's alright, could I have a Hanzo with Reader who is a bit of a joker. Like will do anything to make him laugh. Headcanons are fine if that's best for you.

Sure thing!

- You are like an escape for him from his life concerns, even though you seem a bit silly to him now and then, he does greatly appreciate your efforts to make him smile. This man needs it, as we all know and finds it very endearing as well.

- “Little flower, what are you planning?” He’d say, while watching you with an amused expression while you’re laying out all sorts of objects before him, setting up a game to play. “You need to take a break” and he’d sigh back at you while smiling, knowing you won’t leave him alone while he is battling his own demons. He’d gladly let you win and would compliment your skills while asking for a rematch. He gets very competitive! In a good way. You entertaining him with stories about silly antics pulled by the other agents.

- Enjoys listening to your jokes, as he does not laugh at many, but yours seem to fit into his type of humor very well. He might not laugh right away or at your jokes alone, but would mostly smile and laugh at the gesture and effort you are putting into making his day better. He would definitely notice that you are doing it just to get him to laugh more often and he would thank you properly by bringing you in for a tender kiss, while holding you close. “Thank you for thinking about my well being by entertaining me with such humorous stories, my dearest.”

- He might even put in his own dry jokes, but you’d have to think on them for a while, because he’s a little rusty with his own jokes. However, if you can understand each other even in a language full with jokes, prepare to get many witty comebacks from this man whenever you make a joke about him, because he will learn to create good comebacks for sure. He’d playfully smack you if he’s in the right mood too and have that gorgeous grin on his face.

kay-marie-123  asked:

I'm at work and my notifications are going OFF. All I see is Jackson's name and was worried that he did something really bad. Come to find out people are mad at some HAIR 😒 JACKSON WANG?! The man who gushes about his love for black culture? Is this really how you want to treat a person that outright says "I appreciate your culture." Everything is not appropriation. People saying he needs to be educated need to educate themselves first and stop using the term 'appropriation' for everything.



Eleven x Reader

Request: Anon: could I have a 11 x reader with the prompts 36 & 40 please ? thank you !!! X

Hello!! I went a little long on this one, but I hope you enjoy it! There is a bit of a cliff hanger, so a part two may be a possibility….;) Thanks so much for requesting! Much love! xoxo

Title: Blackout

Word Count: 4,715

“Only five more minutes…” You groaned as you looked at your small black watch that laid gently on your wrist. You continued to take books off of the large stack piled next to you and placed them in their respective spots on the shelves alphabetically as you impatiently waited for closing time. It had been a long week, and all you wanted to do was go home, drink a few beers, cuddle with your dog, all the while watching some Dateline. As you thought of your evening plans, you heard the sharp jingle of the bell at the front door that indicated someone had come into your bookshop. You’ve got to be kidding me, the sign says we close soon. You thought to yourself, placing the book in your hand back onto the stack. “Hello! So sorry, but as the sign says, we close at six tonight. I’ll be open on Monday again.” You hollered out as you made your way through the maze of stacks and shelves to the front of the shop. As you turned the corner, you realized you were talking to an empty room and you felt your ears perk up for any sounds of another person present in your space. “Hello?” You called around, going up and down the science fiction, and romance sections. “Alright, look. I’m closing shop, and I’d like to not lock you in here, but I will and call the cops if I have to.” You stated, coming back up to the front awaiting an answer. But there was only silence. Your frustration was rising as you looked about your immediate area. “Alright buddy, whoever you are, I am really wanting to get out if here. You have five seconds to show yourself, and then we can just get out and continue our evenings. If I get down to zero you’re going to wish you hadn’t waited until I found you. Five…four…” You threatened, continuing to look behind stacks and shelves. “Three…two….” You continued, looking behind your cashier desk, grabbing the bat you hid underneath it. Usually in instances like this, it was just a homeless person trying to find a warm place, or some kid trying to pull a prank. Never anything malevolent, but you usually weeded them out by three. “Two and a half!” You yelled, as you cautiously turned another corner, ready to strike the intruder. You jumped as you heard a book fall off a stack a few aisles over, and spun to face the noise. You gripped the bat tighter, and quietly made your way to the history section of your store hoping to surprise whoever was hiding there. “ONE!” You shouted, bat above your head and ready to strike. “WHOA! Oi! It’s alright! I’m not here to hurt you!!” 

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Fallout Week → Day 7: Brains or Brawn 

Honestly? Find you a man (or a woman) who has both. Danse is a highly skilled soldier, but there’s a brain behind those muscles and good looks. He used to run his own junk stand in Rivet City, he’s one of the few companions who appreciates the Treasure of Jamaica Plains, he’s familiar with the teachings of Henry David Thoreau, and he needed to exhibit some level of intelligence to earn the rank of Paladin. If you’re his enemy, then Danse is a powerful force to be reckon with. 

Escape Verse: Put A Ring On It

This is a prequel, for @ninzied, who generously also betaed for me.

Graham goes ring shopping and employs literally the worst person to help him in said endeavor - lovesick puppy dog Robin.

It is also on

Chapter 1 is here

He hates this guy.

He hates to even give him a name. Unless he absolutely has to, he refers to Graham as “him,” “that guy” or “Regina’s boyfriend” as much as possible, because his name tastes like ash in his mouth.

He really, really, intensely dislikes him.

In every occasion where he’s had the, uh, pleasure of Graham’s company, he finds himself wanting to get away from him as fast as he can. He humors him, chats him up and occupies him, because he’s important to Regina, and hell, what’s important to her should be important to him, right?

When Regina mentioned Graham felt left out of company matters, Robin sucked it up and started inviting Graham golfing with the guys. He shared his baseball and football and basketball tickets with the man, because well, it made Regina smile.

But typically, Robin only sees Graham when he is Regina’s date to black tie events, where he always ends up acting like a neglected child, begging for Regina’s attention, when she needs to network. Robin finds himself playing babysitter, keeping Graham occupied so Regina can schmooze in peace.

Graham’s just a child. An ungrateful, pathetic child.

It doesn’t help matters that Regina recounts his antics with him over coffee. She’ll show up, frustrated and sleep deprived, admitting she had spent yet another night arguing with Graham over god knows what.

Graham doesn’t like to go to those black tie affairs her job dictates she attends. He complains about the long hours of her job, yet when she has time off, he’s always made plans of his own.

He blames her for their lack of intimacy, and Robin hates it.

And Regina’s revealed that there is a lack of intimacy, sadly. He knows Graham hasn’t shown much of an interest in her sexually, which could just about make Robin lose his mind. He’s terribly jealous, and terribly frustrated because this man has the whole world in his hand and doesn’t even appreciate it.

So, he hates Graham. And to be quite honest, he’d assumed the feeling was mutual.

Which is why he’s extremely puzzled to find Graham calling him in the middle of a work day.

“Hey it’s Graham. Ya gotta moment?”

Robin frowns. “A few I guess. But I got to be going—”

“It won’t take long. I just…need your advice on something.”

“You want my advice?” Robin asks. What pearl of wisdom was this man trying to grasp from a single father who spends his days pining over his coworker and best friend?

“You’re her best friend, right?” Graham asks. “I need shopping advice.”

Oh, well. Years on television have taught him more about women’s fashion than any man should know, but oh well. Such is life. “She likes jewel tones and black. She’s a size two, though if it runs small in skirts or pants she can be a size four.” Because she has the world’s greatest ass, he thinks. But he’s not going to mention that. Besides, Graham knows that, the bastard has held her ass in his hand — god he hates that man. “The set dressers always describe her style as sleek and sexy sophisticated. Go to Neiman Marcus or Saks and tell a saleswoman. She will help.”

“Not clothes,” Graham grumbles, “god why would I ever bother shopping for clothes, she’s impossible and too damn picky.”

Robin bites his tongue.

“What then, mate?” he asks, trying to stay cool.

“A ring.”

Robin nearly falls out of his chair. He never saw it coming. They don’t seem there yet.

“Engagement ring, I take it?”

“Yeah. We’ve been together forever, and she’s always saying that I don’t make an effort… well this is a helluva effort, isn’t it?”

Robin rolls his eyes. “I suppose…”

“She’s picky, I figure you’re her friend, you know about this stuff, you’re always complimenting her hair and jewelry and outfits, so you must know what she likes. You’re like her gay best friend or something. Though, obviously you’re not gay, I’m not saying that. Anywayyyy…. any chance you can come meet me at the mall for lunch and help my pick something out?”

Robin groans and wipes a hand over his face. God, this guy. “ Not the mall. Go to a proper jeweler. Kings on Second Street. And it’s not something you’re gonna be able to figure out during a lunch hour.”

“Really?” Graham asks. “It’s just a ring. How complicated could it be?”

He really hates this guy.

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Request- Dinner with Bradleys

“Dinner at the Fuhrer’s house….damn.”  Maes Hughes sat back in his office chair and put his feet up on his desk as he watched Roy pace back and forth on the green rug in front of him.   

“I know…what the fuck?”  Roy said and ran his hand through his hair.  He had almost run into Mrs. Bradley in the hall and in the exchange of apologies and introductions she had somehow managed to invite him to dinner to make it up to him.   He was trying to excuse himself from that potential awkward engagement but the Fuhrer himself walked up and insisted.   Now he was going to be a guest at dinner tonight and he was confident in his ability to handle it, but also overwhelmed by the prospect.  

“Selim Bradley has some fascination with alchemy now.”  Hughes said and put his hands behind his head to think about the implications of all this.   It’s not like the officers in Central could hate Roy more than they did and it wouldn’t be a bad stepping stone to Central if he could make a good impression with the Fuhrer’s family.  “So, maybe he wants lessons?”

“What?”  Roy asked.   “I’m not a teacher.”

“Then maybe the Bradley’s are looking to spice up their love life with a…guest?”  Maes said and Roy stopped in his tracks and looked at him appalled.  He laughed.  


“Roy, you would not believe some of the weird shit I have to investigate around here.   The Top Brass is into some kinky stuff and some of it I’m surprised there is a name for.”

“I know.  My Mom built a business around that…demand.”  Roy said and shook his head.  “Stop trying to fluster me.”

“I am trying to distract you.”  Maes leaned back in his chair and swiveled a little.  “Just go to dinner.  I can’t believe you went through this much trouble to get out of Elicia’s recital.   Good thing I’ll take pictures and we can have a slide show when you get home tonight.”

Roy kinda felt a little bad about that.  He did coach Elicia on her singing….well maybe not so much coach as steal her microphone and sing duets with Maes in their living room.  The recital however, sounded like a live action “Shirley Temple Infomercial” and he wasn’t too upset about not going.   “What do I wear?”

“Pants.”  Maes said.  

“Asshole, you know I meant uniform?  Dress or regular?”  Roy could see him smile, god why was he having fun at his expense.  Bastard was supposed to be helping him to the top!

“Normal.   Don’t make it weird.”  Maes said and then eyed his mess head of hair.  “Don’t slick it back either, that makes you look like you’re trying too hard.  Bring a pie…..or melon!  The Fuhrer loves melon!”


“This melon is delicious!!”   The Fuhrer’s face glowed with excitement.  “You say it’s a hybrid variety?”

“Yes, sir.”  Roy said and cut into his perfectly cooked stake as Selim Bradley sat next to him and tried to hide vegetables under a pile of fat in the corner of his own plate.   Fuhrer Bradley had yet to take a bite of his dinner, still fussing over the novelty of random melon he picked up in the market district on the way over.  

“We must plant this.”  Bradley beamed.  “It’s a delight!”

“Honey, eat your dinner!”  Mrs. Bradley chided and rubbed her husband’s hand affectionately.  “Colonel, I am so glad you joined us!  Selim really enjoyed your basic alchemy lesson, but clearly didn’t comprehend that part about ‘matter not being created or destroyed’ since he’s trying to hide his veggies instead of eat them.”

Selim huffed and reluctantly started to eat the hidden vegetables.  

“You’re so good with kids, are you planning to have some?”  Mrs. Bradley asked.

Roy almost laughed, then realized she was serious.   He was awful with kids! He only started talking with Selim about alchemy because he kept going on and on about Fullmetal and wanting to be like him when he grew up.  He cleared his throat but before he could answer, the Fuhrer answered for him.

“The good Colonel isn’t married yet, dear.”  Bradley said with a smile.   “Which is a shame because I think my staff would be more serious about his requests to transfer to Central command if he showed some maturity and settled down.”

What…what? Roy stopped chewing and stared at Bradley. He winked at him.  That weird old person with one eye wink that said, ‘I wouldn’t be winking if I wasn’t trying to drop a hint because it’s weird when I only have one eye’.  

“Oh.”  Mrs. Bradley said and then focused on Mustang.  “Have you not met the right girl?”

Before he could answer Bradley spoke again.  Clearly he was not going to be able to say anything here and he heard Selim mutter something about ‘at least it’s not me’.  

“Clearly you have a problem just settling on one.”  The Fuhrer took a bite of melon and grinned.  “I hear your reputation is well earned.”

“Oh Colonel, tell me you’re not one of those types.   You seem so nice.”  Mrs. Bradley said.  “I was hoping you’d be a role model for Selim but if you’re…well let’s just say it’s a bad example to set.  Especially when you are mentoring a nice young man like Edward Elric.”

“Your personal life reflects your attitude towards your professional life.”  The Fuhrer said.  “A man who let’s a reputation like that develop, clearly doesn’t need to be tarnishing the upper echelon of my staff.   I thought with you being such an esteemed alchemist your dedication would be through and through…”

This was taking some weird turns.   What the hell?   Roy finally put his fork down and said in the most sincere voice, “I give you my word Fuhrer, that my reputation is simply an exaggeration.  I…date a lot to find the right girl to settle down with.   Perhaps I would have better luck in Central?”

Bradley laughed.   He appreciated the way the man turned that right around.  “Well, I am happy to hear that.”

“I know some wonderful single ladies, Colonel.  Probably all a little young for you though.”  Mrs. Bradley said.   “And the others way too old.”

He was too young, now too old?  There was no winning here.  Roy was now focused on proving himself a suitable candidate for promotion or transfer and apparently that meant proving himself husband material.  Fine.   Rich old people did odd things at dinner.   “Of course I trust your judgement, Mrs. Bradley.”

“So you do want to get married?” Mrs, Bradley asked.   “Have kids?”

He would have agreed to anything to get out of this weird conversation and onto a topic like why there was ranch dressing in the quiche.  Roy gave her a dazzling grin, his most handsome and attractive grin sure to win over anyone.  “Absolutely.  Unfortunately it’s something that eludes me.  I work long hours and it’s difficult to meet people.  Dating has been more of a set-up by friends these days, hence all the girls I end up seeing.”

“What about the Armstrongs?”  Mrs. Bradley asked her husband.  “So many girls, none married.”

“Olivier has shot me down and Catherine is a little young for me.”  Roy said.  He couldn’t remember any of the other girls names.  

“Oh.”  Mrs. Bradley then said.  “What About Miss Douglas, my husband’s secretary?”

Roy had seen the woman and although she was OK looking she reminded him way too much of Ed and Al’s Mom.   Dead Mom was a bit of a turn off.   “Not sure we have much in common?”

“How about that bodyguard of yours?”  Fuhrer Bradley asked.  “Hawkeye?”

Now the feeling of weird was replaced with dread.  He could feel that eye on him.  “She works for me and I wouldn’t dream of fraternization…”

“And if she didn’t work for you?” Mrs. Bradley asked seeing a weakness and pouncing.  “You would consider it?”

“I mean….Hawkeye is just a subordinate.  I never thought of her like that.” Roy lied.  God he could feel Mrs. Bradley just locking on and targeting him now. 

“Someone who works that close to you, you have to get along…right?” Mrs. Bradley asked.   “That’s what marriage is about!  Partnership and respect. Perhaps you’re missing what is right under your nose!”

“Lieutenant Hawkeye has refused promotion in order to stay your bodyguard.”  The Fuhrer said.  “Repeatedly.”

“Clearly she thinks very highly of you?”  Mrs. Bradley smiled.  “If she accepted one of those promotions than you would be free to explore that!   My Husband needs a new bodyguard.  We lost one in that attack the other day when that man broke in our house and attacked him.”

Woah…wait…what?!?  Roy’s eyes darted to Bradley.  He was trying to take Hawkeye away? ”Sir, are you taking my bodyguard?”

“Well, think of it as giving you both an opportunity for advancement.”  The Fuhrer smiled.  “If you can prove yourself serious and mature enough for a stable relationship than maybe you can also find yourself a transfer to Central. Basque Grand’s office is still vacant, I would love to find a capable individual to fill that position but I need someone with….more at stake than just his career.  I want a man who is dedicated to the military and to the future of Amestris.  You don’t quite get that perspective unless you settle down and want a better world for your kid.”

Selim smiled at the stunned Colonel and with his other hand pushed his vegetables off the plate and into his napkin.   

Words of Love

Warnings: fluff, fluff, and fluff

A/N: This is my very first Hamilton Imagine! I hope you guys like it!


AU: Hamiltime

2 3 4 5 Masterlist

Life was simple, at least it was.

You stayed at home, under the watchful eye of your parents. They didn’t not trust you outside in the public, they just wanted to keep you safe. You wanted to say that you understood that, but deep down, you didn’t.

You knew that your parents were major loyalists during the Revolution, they were the ones who brought you up with the values and opinions as they had. So, when Britain lost the war, to say they were in a state of shock was putting it mildly.

They isolated themselves, with fear of showing themselves in public. In doing so, they kept you by their side… or so they thought.

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Sexually Compatible

Summary: Phil dumps his boyfriend and hooks up with Dan.

Warning: Smut, Light bondage, Daddy!Kink, Praise!Kink, Dirty talk, Spanking, Dom!Top!Dan, Bottom!Sub!Phil, Hickies

Word Count: 2,245


Fanfic Masterlist

Dan has fancied Phil for a very long time. He had a crush on him before they even met. They more they got to know each other, the harder Dan fell. Before he knew it, Dan was completely and utterly in love with Phil Lester.

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So I know the Les Mis fandom loves pining Grantaire and oblivious Enjolras.

But I want a scenario where Enj knows about Grantaire’s crush on him. He doesn’t necessarily return said feelings quite as passionately but he does still like the guy well enough and finds him endearing. He is more aesthetically attracted to R than romantically. He can appreciate a good looking man when he sees one and while yes the jokes are self-deprecating some are genuinely funny.

So he gives hints about his attraction with little things such as catching the other man’s eye or smiling when he waves to him. but stresses to R that it isn’t romantic.

Sometimes you need someone who is willing to be attracted to you on the more fundamental level and is friends with you rather than a significant others.

(I May or may not be in a position similar to this right now…)

Quick shout out to the writers out there

I’ve been on FFN for 10 years now , I was literally 11 and in fifth grade when I started posting shit on there and I just wanted to say my thanks to anyone who takes time out of their lives to publish some amazing material that I continue to go back and reread years later. I love the creativity. I love the beauty. I love the inspiration ya guys give me to be a better writer and to continue growing. Despite growing older, I always find myself going back to FFN and updating after being reminded why I even started. Thanks, guys! I know I need to leave reviews more often so you’re aware of how much I appreciate you.

Also, I love the readers man. I have some who have literally been there for me for the 10 years. You guys stay loyal despite the crap I post after waiting months for it and never hold it against me for taking long breaks.

Long live the fandom

“You stole my candy and now you’re taunting me with it in your mouth and I kiss you to steal it. Bet you didn’t expect th- wait why are you kissing me back?!”

Real sweets were difficult to obtain in the south, Orlais was still woefully lacking the proper level of confections that Dorian was used to in Tevinter (he wasn’t even going to bother with Ferelden) and it had taken Josephine the better part of a month to secure his request. Though finally a box of spiced chocolate was waiting for him in the library after weeks of asking the ambassador for a taste of home.

Dorian couldn’t help the thrill of excitement he felt seeing the sweets laid out in delicate paper in the box before him. With a grin he picked up the chocolates and one of the wine bottles he had stashed in his alcove and headed out to visit the Commander. If there was anyone who needed to learn to appreciate the finer things in life it was the man who thought wooden bowls of Ferelden stew was an acceptable meal.

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It kind of confuses me when people talk about how charming and whimsical Gene Wilder as Wonka was? Like, to me as a kid Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory was without question a survival horror.
My parents tried to assure me that the children all lived, but I never believed them for a moment. (I had already discovered the truth of their deceit when they told me that the thief at the start of Aladdin survived and was turned into the magic carpet.) 

The hell tunnel did nothing to strengthen their position either. 

To little five year old me, Willy Wonka was a plumb suit wearing Jigsaw, playing with the lives of these bratty kids and their equally bratty parents. For real. I really honestly thought he was a bad guy and watched the movie from that perspective. 
The monotone singing, the singular lack of emotion as one by one each child is apparently chopped up, popped like a zit or burned alive (I always thought Mike TV got off easiest because we actually saw him leave with his mother. Anything you can kind of walk away from, right?) 

Then there’s his strange, possibly inhuman henchmen (I think I kind of thought of the Oompa Loompas as dwarvish creatures bound to Wonka’s service through some sort of fairy loophole trickery. Even if I didn’t have the vocabulary or folkloric awareness to express it in that way).
Wonka was an evil mastermind luring small groups into his scintillatingly sweet labyrinth of murder like a curly haired vampire lord in need of fresh blood to survive the next thousand years of dark slumber. 

I mean, I can appreciate Wilder Wonka from another angle now. Seeing him as an excessively creative man who, after being stolen from, has become cynical of those outside his self contained dream world. 
But even twenty some odd years later I’m afraid I still find him a vaguely sinister figure. 

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Dandelion- Junkrat x Reader

So this is my first Junkrat fic and my first fic on here, mostly draw lol (Might do some pics with my OC with scenes from this). Anywho this chapter is tame.

Part One

You pulled the trigger without hesitation, the gun hardly made a sound. Thank god for silencers. With practised precision the gun was quickly stowed away in your handbag and you were on your way out the door. This job had been relatively simple. Walk into the bank, charm your way into the manager’s office, then kill the limey bastard. If you’ve done it once you’ve done it a thousand times. This time however, felt a bit different.

As you walked out of the office you felt tense. The hairs on the back of your neck started to rise. Something wasn’t right.

The left side of the wall suddenly exploding confirmed your suspicions. You’d be proud if you hadn’t been thrown ten feet by the blast. When you righted yourself you saw two annoyingly familiar figures. The Aussie bank robbers, and all-around chaos makers, Junkrat and Roadhog. Saying they were unprofessional would be an understatement. To keep it simple, if you were a rose they were dandelions.

“Dammit,” you hissed, rolling towards cover. You were strong, but not strong enough to fight these maniacs head-to-head.

Though it didn’t look like you had much of a choice.

“Oi you there, don’ think ai can’t see ya, come out with yer hands up!” Yelled Junkrat. You hesitated before complying. Junkrat’s grin widened when you turned to face him. “Looks like we gotta looker, ay Hog?” You raised an eyebrow at his comment, but stayed silent even as he hobbled closer to you. “You look  like one o’ them rich sods don’tcha, sheila. Why don’tcha just empty out that bag there for ol’ Rat eh?” Your (E/C) eyes bore into his amber ones as you unceremoniously turned your handbag upside down. You had to resist the urge to smirk as his eyes widened when your gun, and knife, clattered to the marble floor.

“Sorry,” you told him. “Not packing much money today. Maybe better luck in the safe.” Junkrat giggled wildly, swaying on his peg leg.

“Well I’ll be stuffed! Ain’t that a beaut, Hog!? The lil sheila ‘as more than just looks ay?” Roadhog grunted in response, throwing a grenade at some escape hopeful patrons. “So whatcha gone and done?” Junkrat waved his ‘gun’ at you with every word, it bobbed wildly whenever he took a step towards you. You bit your lip, finding a way out of this was going to be difficult. There was only one thing you could do.

“I killed the Bank manager.” You answered simply. “You don’t need to worry, all the money is still there. So I’d appreciate it if, one criminal to another, you could let me go on my way before your firecrackers attract some unwanted attention.” The blonde Aussie turned towards the larger man who simply lifted his huge shoulders and shrugged.

“Y’know what? It’s your lucky day. Though if I find the safe ‘as gone walkabout, you’ll be seeing us again real soon… Also,” He added, dragging your gun towards him with his peg leg. “I think I’ll be takin’ this with me as a bit o’ an souvenir.” You frowned a bit, losing your favorite revolver was a pain… But not as much of a pain as being killed.

“Whatever floats your boat,” You muttered as you made your way to the back exit, his mad laughter echoing in your ears. You made it out the door before freezing. More cops than you had ever seen, or ever wanted to see, had surrounded the building. In hindsight, you could have ran into their arms, no one knew your face or what you had done. Well hindsight is 20/20. In reality you threw yourself back into the bank faster than the snap on a mousetrap. Junkrat glanced at you through the dust of an explosion.

“Couldn’t get enough of me eh?” He laughed.

“No, surprisingly you two are somewhat more preferable to being arrested. The building’s surrounded, any chance you’ve got a backup plan?” You hastily explained. Junkrat grinned happily while Roadhog sighed in exasperation.

“Only got the one plan, BOOM! And if things go belly up we just throw more bombs!” He cackled, shooting a bomb out of his gun for emphasis. “Tell ya what, us criminal types gotta stick together, yeah? How’s about you fill up this sack with some o’ those stacks they got in there, and maybe ai could find room for you on our get-o-way mobile.” Junkrat threw a burlap sack at you and you caught it clumsily. The smell and feel of it immediately repulsed you. It was burnt, greasy, and smelled as if the two men had been using it to dry their arm pits for years (Something that you wouldn’t put past them).

“Charming…” You muttered. Quickly running into the safe, which had conveniently been blown open, you began to stuff the disgusting sack with as much money as it could hold before hefting it over your shoulder. When you returned you saw the two junkers placing what looked like C4 charges all over the entrance to the bank. “I got the cash. We blowing our way out?”

“Sort of. Blow up the front, go out the back,” Rumbled Roadhog. You blinked up at him in surprise. You hadn’t even realised the man could talk.

Junkrat shook you out of your stupor. “You should probably hide yerself, don’t wantcha to go splat now do we.”

“Right,” You jumped back behind the teller’s station. A few seconds passed before Junkrat and Roadhog joined you and a giant blast shook the building.

“Ere we go!” Junkrat cheered. They tore off towards the back of the building and you had to scramble up onto your feet to follow them. Their plan had worked perfectly, the cops that had previously been guarding the back of the building had circled around to see if there were any casualties. Now there was just the matter of making it out of there alive. Which, judging by the rickety death machine they had lead you to, was not looking too good.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me…” Their “get-o-way mobile” was an old-fashioned motorcycle with a sidecar that looked like sitting in it would give you tetanus. But, like the rest of today’s events, it didn’t look like you had a choice. Junkrat hopped in first before grinning up at you and patting the ‘seat’ between his legs. Your face flushed a bit as you climbed into the sidecar. The bag of cash took up what little room was left and you were forced back into Junkrat’s chest. The junker seemed to relish in the contact though, judging from the fit of crazy giggles that he let loose. In fact, his giggles only got louder through the bumpy ride away from the police. There were several times where the bike hit a pothole, or when they took a curb too fast, that caused you to be thrown around violently… Which lead to a certain blonde junker’s metal arm being wrapped around your waist. You would have been embarrassed if his arm wasn’t working as a human safety belt.

By the time the ride was over you felt that the wrath of the police officers would have been preferable. As you awkwardly climbed out you felt as though a herd of cows had trampled over your lower body.

“Well, that was… Brisk.” You groaned. “I think I’ll just be on my way… as soon as I can feel my legs again.”

“Ya get used to it, helps when ya only have one.” Chuckled Junkrat, tapping his metal leg against the ground. You smiled a bit at his antics.

“Really though, I should be going. Thanks for the ride out of there.” Roadhog glanced up at you and gave you a silent nod. Junkrat decided on the more theatrical approach and raised his hand to his head in a mock salute.

“Nice to meet ya, killer. Stay classy,” He called out to you. You raised your hand and returned the salute before turning and trekking away.

Maybe you’d see those two again. Strangely enough, you wouldn’t mind that. That motorcycle however, never seeing it again would be too soon.