oh my god look at the hand

anonymous asked:

What was going through Tsuyu's head when she saw Izuku talking to Shigaraki? Was it like, ???????????? or was it more of a completely blank with "we're gonna die" repeating as a mantra

It was sort of a sequential thing. It went through the following stages:

1. ??!!!!???!!!!!

2. What??? the hell??? does he think he’s doing???

3. He’s going to die. We’re both going to die. We’re dead.

4. …Any second now.

5. Oh my god this crazy hands guy is actually buying it.

6. Holy crap we may actually make it out of thiiiaaaaaagghgh smiles should not look like that.

You’re mine.

GIFT FOR MY FAV GAL @kapiche SHE MADE ART FOR YANDERE!HAMILTON AND I AM A SUCKER FOR YANDERE HAMILTON TBH SO I DECIDED, IM GONNA WRITE JAMILTON BUT WITH YANDERE!HAMILTON!!!!


Thomas had always felt someone’s gaze on him. He felt a gaze always on him. When he was talking to James or Adams, Hamilton would immediately rush up and start trying to do anything to distract Thomas. 

Thomas found it strange how Hamilton would stare at him with a lovesick look but he tried not to focus on it.

Thomas had been laughing about something with John as he sat close together in the cabinet meeting. “Dear god, John.” He snorted into his hand as he looked at his lover friend.

“Oh my god, Thomas.” John laughed out, finding Thomas’s laugh contagious. “Your laugh is ridiculously beautiful.”

Thomas, being the person he was, was embarrassed but the comment fueled his ego. “Why thank you, John.”

They continued to talk more like flirt as Alexander fumed in the corner. His fist clenched as he narrowed his eyes.  Thomas was his. Not that national embarrassment. He’d make sure of it…


Thomas started to recognize weird things happening. Belongings of his would go missing, like clothes and he kept finding love letters for him everywhere. And now the disappearance of John Adams… All of this was weird.

Of course, Thomas had no idea Alex was the mastermind of this. He had been in the middle of an argument with said person when he was informed of his lovers friends death and he was in a state of shock.

Alex smirked internally but plastered a concerned look as he pulled Thomas close. “Oh, there there Tommy… Everything’s okay.. I’ll be here for you.” He cooed softly, smirking. Thomas was all his. He then locked eyes with James Madison and glared with a murderous gaze. He’d have to get rid of James too…. Thomas was his. His. His. All his.

Thomas was so distraught that he just held onto Alex as he cried softly and for once he let the man hold him and have him.


Things slowly got better. Thomas got back onto his feet and started to distance himself from Alex again and he started to date James and that didn’t sit well with Alexander.

Alexander clenched his jaw as he watched Thomas laugh as he leaned forwards to kiss James. No… No… NO! Thomas was his. Thomas loved him. He just didn’t know he loved Alex yet. Because stupid John was in the way and stupid James is in the way!

He needed to get rid of him. Yes… He’d get rid of him. It was just him, James and Thomas. Thomas would surely understand! Thomas was so kind and loving! 

Alex locked eyes with an axe on the wall and gripped in, surging forwards as he finally brought it down on James, leaving Thomas to cry in horror.

“A-Alexander! What are you-!” Thomas gazed from the limp body of his lover to Alex.

“He was in my way, Tommy~ Just like that national embarrassment.” He spat out. “They were preventing you from loving me.” He smiled somewhat sweetly at him. 

“You’re mine, Tommy.”

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3

Hellooooooo Dr. Fitz

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17TH OF MAY SPECIAL

THE GUYS: Dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab!!

[HEY BRISKEBY]

MUTASIM: Yes, we love…* Today, it’s the 18th of May, so we’re going to have a, boom, 17th of May special.

ELIAS: What are you doing?

MUTASIM: Bro..

ELIAS: You know this is my Youtube channel, right? And then you come with this 17th of May stuff..

MUTASIM: Look, look, look how tired this guy is and I’m like fresh.

MIKAEL: He has a bowtie.

MUTASIM: Bowtie! I got this, understand?

MIKAEL: [Singing]

ELIAS: But what’s the thing with the 17th of May? Why do we celebrate the 17th of May?

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You Look Like You Need a Drink (M)

Originally posted by hidden--demons

Summary: After a bad week with the worst luck imaginable, you happen upon a local dive bar run by an attractive young bartender who livens up your evening.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 7,221

Warning: Bartender!Yoongi, tattooed!Yoongi, sexual harassment, sexual themes, power play, manners kink, alcohol use, profanity

A/N: I wrote this last year for my dear friend’s birthday and swore this fic would never see the light of day. I have since “remastered” it, so to speak, so I’m sharing it here. SURPRISE!

Keep reading

That's Not So Different

@lovelylangst, I saw your idea that Voltron is hit by a spell by Haggar that makes them all revert to their original languages and I loved it so much I made a fic out of it.
I don’t know if you like your ideas being written out, so if you don’t, tell me and I’ll take it down.
Also, I kinda changed the idea a bit, so basically Pidge is perceptive and Allura is an oblivious bastard.

I don’t usually write ff alright.

Word count - 2000+

Pidge stumbled out of her lion, her bayard clasped to her chest, wheezing. Her voicebox felt like it had been clapped in hot iron, and black lightning sparked painfully from her armour where Haggar’s spell had struck Voltron. It had lanced all the way through the metal, and Pidge had heard Hunk whimper in pain.

Keith was sliding down Red’s leg. Some of his armour was shattered - no doubt from the hit - and his helmet was off. Sweat stuck to his forehead. His violet eyes were wide, and full of fear. He didn’t seem to want to look at her.

Hunk and Lance were nowhere to be seen - hiding out still in their lions, probably, like a mouse from a cat’s claws. Shiro eased himself out of his lion’s mouth. His helmet was off, too, but he looked unhurt. Voltron hadn’t won - but they’d escaped. For now, they were safe.

“Shiro! Pidge!” Allura came sprinting up to the hangar, her silvery hair flying behind her - she hadn’t bothered to tie it up. Coran was running behind her. “Lance!”

“He’s… He’s still in his lion, Coran,” stammered Pidge. “Oh, God, that was a hit… I feel all weak.”

“It must have been the komar,” deduced Coran, his hands a flurry at the scanner. “That spell Haggar devised. Do you feel like you’re going to pass out? Are you hurt?”

Pidge shook her head, shakily. “No,” she muttered. “I’m f-fine. Just shaken.”

“Keith? Shiro?” asked Allura. Her eyes were wide. “Are you hurt?”

Keith shook his head. Shiro opened his mouth to say something, but Keith, swift as a whip, stuck his hand over Shiro’s jaw. Shiro glared at him, and pulled his arm away.

“Shiro -”

There was something different about Keith’s voice.

It seemed more accented, sounding a little like Shiro’s when he mumbled to himself in Japanese. Keith didn’t seem eager to say much. He had deactivated his bayard, and was staring at it like he’d lost purpose. Pidge felt a rush of fear, down to her toes. Something was different, and if Keith was acting on it, then something was not only different, it was wrong.

“Kīsu, sore o yame nasai -”

Shiro clamped a hand over his mouth.

Pidge glanced at him, curiously. “Shiro?”

Shiro’s eyes had gone terrified. His cheeks were pale as chalk.

“Shiro?!” Allura sounded scared, her hands tugging at her hair in apprehension. “What’s happened? What was that?”

“Japanese,” Pidge said, exchanging a look with Keith. “Shiro, are you okay? You look -”

She wanted to say like death, but she felt like it might be considered a bit too rude and out of place, seeing as they had just nearly died anyway. Shiro looked like he was going to throw up. Keith, standing beside Shiro, put his arm on Shiro’s shoulder, and led him away without a word.

“What’s going on?” spluttered Coran. He was tapping at the blue lion’s leg with his communicator. “The lions are running, but Hunk’s been knocked out and Lance just won’t leave his! What’s wrong?”

“I think,” said Pidge slowly, “that something is different.”

Slav came running in, just as the blue lion’s jaw opened. The noodle alien paused, his eyes round.

“Oh, so you survived,” he said. “The probability of that was highly unlikely. Are you sure you’re alive?”

“Yes, Slav,” muttered Pidge. “Go do something else now.”

Slav didn’t move. He twisted a whisker like tendril around his mouth with his top pair of arms, like the way Coran did.

Footsteps tapped behind her, and Pidge looked back.

Lance limped towards them, taking off his shattered helmet. One eye was bruised and puffy. His knee trembled under his body weight.

“Lance!” Pidge ran up to him, but before she reached him, he collapsed, smudging blood on the floor. Allura gasped, and ran to join Pidge beside him.

Lance’s body was battered with bruises. His eyes were closed, one swollen with blood and purple. His armour was a mess, but at least he was breathing.

“Is he okay?” Allura whispered.

“I think so,” Pidge confirmed. She took off her glasses and pressed the lens to Lance’s bruise to test the severity. While she did that, Coran helped a very dazed Hunk out of his lion. He looked confused, but unhurt. Better than Lance and Shiro, at least.

“Why was Shiro speaking Japanese?” Allura asked, in an offhand voice. Pidge looked up.

“Native language,” she shrugged. “People tend to switch to their native language when they’re shocked.”

“Really?” Allura sounded interested. “What’s yours?”

“Sarcasm.”

Allura sighed. “English, right?”

“Yeah,” Pidge admitted, looking a little guilty.

-

“How’s Lance?” Pidge asked.

Coran was standing by the healing pod, twisting his moustache. He started when Pidge spoke.

“Pidge! Oh, you scared me!” He wiped his forehead. “He’s alright. He wasn’t badly injured. An hour more, and he should be raring to go!”

“Right, thanks.”

Coran eyed her.

“How is Shiro?”

Pidge sighed. “Still in shock. Babbling to Keith in Japanese. Clear to God Keith doesn’t understand a word of it.”

“Oh, really?” Coran looked interested. “Had Keith spoken yet?”

“No…” Pidge suddenly realised where Coran was coming from, and a jolt of horror shook her. “No, Coran. That doesn’t happen to us. Besides, neither Keith nor Lance have spoken, and they have English as their first language.”

“Not Keith,” said Coran. “His family - ignoring the Galra side - come from Korea. They moved to Texas before he was born.”

“Fine, Lance then.”

Coran glanced at her, before saying, in a controlled voice:

“Druid magic is capable of many things, Pidge.”

Pidge shrugged.

“It’s different, certainly.”

-

“So, you’re saying…” Allura tapped her nails on the table. Around her, sat Pidge, Coran, and Slav.

“Yes, princess,” said Coran, not needing the question to be finished. “Earthlings have many languages. It’s totally possible.”

“That’s true,” admitted Slav. He fiddled with his fingers, his beaklike mouth quivering.

“Admittedly,” Allura said, “you could be right. But then why is Lance not speaking? He speaks English, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, princess,” said Pidge. “That, I don’t get. He’s biracial, Cuban-American… Maybe he speaks Spanish.”

Allura snorted. “Trying to get attention, more like.”

“Hey!” Pidge retorted. “Lance isn’t like that! Don’t go like that! When he’s breaking like that, it’s dangerous!”

“Pidge, he’s like that every day!” Allura complained. She looked away from Pidge’s angry face into Coran’s concerned one. “So, I chase down Lance, and then we wait for the magic to wear off?”

“If it wears off.”

Pidge glared at Slav. “You know, for someone who’s always complaining about the odds, your pessimism doesn’t exactly help.”

“It doesn’t?”

Pidge fought the urge to throw Slav out the airlock.

“Princess, your idea of ‘chasing down Lance’ doesn’t seem to work in my mind,” Coran fretted. “He’s earned some rest.”

“Which he has now had!”

Coran sighed.

“Y'know, Princess,” Pidge said, trying to relieve some tension, “maybe I should just go get Lance.”

“No,” said Allura, standing up, and brushing her hair behind her in a determined fashion. “He won’t take it seriously if you deliver it. I will.”

And before anyone could say anything, Allura left, shutting the door behind her.

-

“Lance?”

Her fingers stung underneath the icy feel of the doorframe. The sky-blue light swept over the stooped figure hiding in the corner. Cloaked in an olive jacket.

“Lance?” Allura stepped cautiously forward, before gasping, and taking a few hesitant steps back.

Lance was crying.

The blue paladin sat hunched, her forehead on his knees and his tan hands wrapped over his face. Tears glittered on his hands like liquid diamond, rasping unintelligible words to the floor.

“Lance!” Allura said, for the third time, but now her voice filled with panic. She didn’t know why - Lance had always irritated her, even after he had stopped his stupid flirting game - but the Lance in front of her looked like the last kind of person to flirt with a princess. What she could see of the gleam of his blue eyes he was raw with sadness.

“Oh, my god,” Allura whispered. Lance didn’t look up - had he even heard her?

She heard footsteps behind her, and saw Pidge and Keith. Both of them looked stricken. Keith had his hands over his mouth as he hurried to Lance’s side. His eyes gleamed, and he looked horrified.

Pidge stood, her hands on her bayard. She looked angrily triumphant, accusing eyes on Allura, hissing, “I told you! I swear to god I warned you!”

“I - I…” Allura didn’t have the words. She bit her lip, shaken.

Keith was whispering words in Korean, his hands in Lance’s, trying to make him look at him, wiping at Lance’s tears with the hem of his cropped jacket. Allura caught a few words off the side.

“Ulji mal-ajuseyo. Jagiya, ulji ma.” He kissed Lance’s tear-streaked cheek and wrapped his arms around him.

Allura froze. Only speaking one language. Keith’s words were worthless when Lance didn’t know what they meant.

Lance’s eyes glowed a sharp, water blue through the darkness, fixed intently on Allura. He looked more angry than sad now. Suddenly, Allura felt a chill in her blood that had nothing to do with the cold castle.

“No tienes idea,” he spat. “¿Por qué me subestimas? Quiero que mires más allá de tus propias esperanzas por una vez.”

Only one language.

Oh, God.

She had never been more wrong about someone.

Pidge had gasped a little at Lance’s words, but Keith didn’t move. He kissed Lance, on the lips this time. Tears shuddered down his face.

Allura took off running, not wanting to see anyone. She knew Lance’s tears came from more than just pain, of not having anyone understand him. The way he looked at her… It was her fault. All her fault.

When she reached her own room, she cried almost as much as she had seen Lance doing.

-

Pidge sat at Lance’s side.

She hadn’t known something for sure. Guesses weren’t good enough. She cursed herself.

Not knowing something certainly - that was different. Pidge didn’t like different things.

-

“Where is he?”

Pidge looked wary about telling Allura… Anything… About Lance’s position. He looked pretty broken from their encounter from yesterday.

“In his room,” Pidge said eventually. “Keith is with him.”

Allura nodded mutely.

“This is your fault, you know,” she said accusingly.

Allura sighed. “I know. I’ve never been more wrong about something.”

Pidge turned her head to the blueprints on her lap, and didn’t say anything.

“I was wrong,” Allura repeated. “I didn’t listen to you. Not to Keith when he said that Lance needed more recognition. He nearly died for Coran… God, if Coran had died..” Her eyes drifted off into space, but she made them stoic and rigid again.

“I don’t know a thing about Lance,” said Allura. “I didn’t pay enough attention to him - not even so I knew he loved Keith and Keith loved him back, not so I knew he cried like that… I was wrong. You were right. He didn’t speak because he couldn’t. But when Keith and the others didn’t try, I didn’t care, and Lance could easily have been unable to speak as much as the others. But no, I was stupid. I thought he was flunking. I was wrong. You were right, he was bilingual. Spanish is his main language. Worst of all, he couldn’t tell me… But would I have listened?”

Pidge didn’t stop Allura, idly listening to her words whilst tapping on the electronics.

“I was wrong,” she repeated. “You were right. It’s always you who’s right.”

Pidge blinked. Then she smiled, cocky.

“Me, always right?” she asked. “Yeah, that’s not different. That’s not different at all.”

Among the Crowd (Soulmate AU)

Summary: Soulmates’ worlds go from black and white to colors when they are in the same room for the first time. Bucky is a famous actor in the middle of a convention, trying to find his soulmate, you.

Word Count: 2,232

A/N: This is a re-write of a Dean W. fic and I hope you all like it :D 

Originally posted by v-writings


Bucky took a swig of water, tightening the cap on the bottle before setting it to the side. His meet-and-greet was about to start. He could hear the bustling of the crowd right outside the door and took a deep breath. Alongside him was Clint, a co-star.

“You doing okay, buddy?” asked Clint, eyes concerned as he placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

After a few minutes, Nat Romanoff and Sam Wilson took their seats next to each other and the writer of the show, Bucky’s oldest friend, Steve Rogers, emerged from behind the black curtain that had been put up behind the actors.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What do you think about an “i picked up your bag at the airport but i can’t find your number so i’m about to embark on the largest scavenger hunt of all time by using your strange belongings to track you down” au with charmer or nurseydex or zimbits or something??

Well, I don’t know if you expected three mini fics, and I didn’t fully follow the prompt, but here we are.

1. Charmer

Look, Chris knew it was dumb. He knew that everyone on earth had a plain black suitcase, he knew he should have double-checked the luggage tag, he knew it was important to be sure abut these things. But knowing what he should have done couldn’t help him when he finally got his suitcase home and opened it up to find mostly yoga pants and sundresses. 

Fuck.

He zipped the bag back up and flipped open the luggage tag. It was cute, pink with some metallic lettering saying “I’m outta here!” in a handwritten font. Chris blamed jetlag and the redeye flight for making him miss the fact that it wasn’t his Sharks tag. He blamed the bag’s owner for not filling out any of the information on the tag.

Dammit.

Well, sorry random girl, he thought. He opened the suitcase up again to try to see if he could find anything that would give him a clue as to who the suitcase owner was. He moved a makeup bag aside, and hit gold immediately. Well, Samwell red. A Women’s Volleyball tshirt– mystery suitcase girl had to be on the volleyball team.

“Hey Ransom!” he yelled. “You’re facebook friends with all the volleyball team right?”

“He’s friends with everyone on campus!” Holster yelled back.

“Ask their captain if anyone flew in from the Bay Area and lost their luggage!”

_X_

“Is Justin here? My captain said he’s got my suitcase.” Chris overheard her at the door. He grabbed the bag and started hauling it downstairs. As he set it down at the bottom and caught sight of the girl in the doorway, he froze. She was pretty. Like, really pretty. 

“Um, hi,” he said.

“So you’re Justin? Oh my god, I’m so glad it wasn’t some total rando who got my bag.” 

“I’m actually Chris, Justin was just the one who was friends with your captain. Um, I’m sorry, but I kind of had to look through your stuff? Your luggage tag wasn’t filled out.” The girl laughed.

“Yours wasn’t either! Me and my teammates were like one minute away from googling the record holder for most San Jose Sharks merch, but it totally makes sense that you’re on the hockey team.” 

“Since we both forgot to write our numbers down, maybe we should do that now?” Chris suggested. The girl grinned, grabbed his phone out of his hand, and opened up a new contact. She punched in a number, and when she handed it back he saw a text of several random emojis addressed to the new contact of “Caitlin Farmer” with a girl farmer emoji and a volleyball emoji.

“Text me sometime, and maybe we can get dinner?” she said, and she was gone with her suitcase. 

Chris collapsed on the couch, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Chowder? You get your suitcase back?” Bitty called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah! and I think I’m in love now!”

2. Nurseydex

“Cheryl, I’m telling you, I had a ton of inspiration on the plane and I wrote some great stuff for act three. No. No, it wasn’t just me thinking it’s great because I popped some melatonin and got really sleepy. It’s like, legit. Yeah, I’ll send it over as soon as I get home and–”

Derek slammed into something. If he’d been holding his phone in his hand (bluetooth is a blessing when you drop stuff easily) it would have launched across the airport. As it was, his post-flight latte was soaking through the nice white shirt of the handsome stranger in front of him.

“Shit,” the stranger said, looking down to survey the damage.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have trusted myself to make a phone call and not be clumsy after such a long flight,” Derek said. He set his briefcase down and pulled a wad of napkins out of the outside pocket. The guy took a deep breath, going from murderous to calm in a few seconds. 

“I wasn’t looking where I was going either, it’s not your fault,” the guy said, setting down his own briefcase and accepting the napkins. He blotted at his shirt.

“Let me pay for the dry cleaning. Or a replacement,” Derek offered. The man shook his head.

“It’s fine, it probably needed to go to the cleaners anyways.” He checked his watch. “If I run, I can probably get a new one before my meeting.” He wadded the napkins into one big ball, picked up his briefcase, and walked towards the exit with a terse nod. Derek, feeling terrible about the whole thing, picked up his own briefcase and walked to baggage claim.

By the time he was reunited with his home office, a cozy bookshelf-lined room in his brownstone, he had almost forgotten about the coffee incident. He was focused on sending the manuscript to Cheryl. Unfortunately, that was going to be difficult, considering he pulled a PC laptop out of the bag instead of his Mac.

Derek stared at the computer for a full minute. He almost couldn’t believe that this was happening to him. Hesitantly, he opened the laptop. On one side of the keyboard there was a weird thing that a few seconds of phone googling told him was a fingerprint scanner. Shit. He hit the space bar experimentally. Something flashed on the screen, and then was replaced with just a plain black screen with red text: ACCESS DENIED

Derek swore. He started to look through the rest of what was in the briefcase, but was disappointed to find it empty except for the laptop’s charger, three packs of gum, and receipts from a lobster shack in Maine. Shit. Nothing in here would tell him anything about the redhead he’d launched a latte at. 

He closed the laptop dejectedly, ignored his editor’s text messages, and went into the kitchen to make himself lunch and feel sorry for himself. This was the universe punishing him for covering a cute guy with coffee. If he had just kept his focus and waited to call his editor later, he could have sent the draft along and saved it and not be desperately trying to remember his inspiration.

Just as the self-pity spiral was really taking off, the doorbell rang. Derek sighed, put down his tea, and walked to the door. When he opened it, it wasn’t Girl Scouts or Jehovah’s Witnesses, but the guy from the airport.

“Cancel whatever you’re doing today, I need to teach you the most basic principles of digital security,” the guy said, pushing past Derek into the dining room. He shoved a stack of papers onto a chair and pulled Derek’s laptop out.

“I’m Will, by the way, I make software that’s hopefully a step ahead of viruses.”

“Is the draft still there?”

“The draft of what?” The guy looked confused.

“My third act breakthrough. I’m a novelist, I need to get it to my editor and I couldn’t remember if I saved it,” Derek explained.

“You know you can set up an auto-save every five minutes or so, right?” Will asked.

“This might be surprising to you, but I’ve never had a cute guy storm into my house and yell at me about computers before.” Will looked up from Derek’s computer, blushing.

“I haven’t had a cute guy dump a gallon of coffee all over me and steal my laptop before, either, but here we are.”

“Maybe you can yell about computers over lunch with me?”

3. Zimbits

Button downs. Tank tops. Slacks. Shorts. Three rolling pins. A pie tin. A half-emptied multipack of sharpies.

No lucky puck. No clothes in his size. No jerseys.

Jack sighed. It would just be too much to ask for anything to go well today. He picked up his phone to call someone with the Falconers, in the hope that they could talk to the airline and sort all this out. At the same time, his phone lit up with Tater’s face.

“Zimmboni! Look on twitter. Small internet baker has your suitcase!” Tater hung up before he could reply, so Jack just opened twitter instead. 

omgcheckplease: A bunch of pucks, some dirty jerseys, and a history textbook. Either I’m back in college or this isn’t my suitcase.

omgcheckplease: .@falcsofficial please tell your #1 player to DM me and come get his shit

omgcheckplease: and @falcsofficial tell him to give me my shit back. my hockey days are in the past, I need rolling pins, not a mouthguard

Jack smiled and laughed in the way a person laughs when they’re alone, just blowing more air than normal out of his nose. He looked through the twitter for a minute– the guy, Eric Bittle, was a Providence-based chef, whose latest tweets were mostly greetings to the various cities he’d been visiting on tour. Jack clicked the media tab on the account, and looked through the pictures. Bittle was cute. He wrote a reply.

zimmboni: .@omgcheckplease how do I send u a DM

omgcheckplease: .@zimmboni you don’t deserve to be verified, oh my god #verifybittle2k17

A few seconds later another notification popped up, and he tapped it to be brought to a DM window.

omgcheckplease: hey! sorry about the mixup. I can only imagine how confused you were to find all my book tour stuff.

zimmboni: Probably as confused as you were finding hockey stuff?

omgcheckplease: I wasn’t joking in my tweets, I did play hockey before I got into the whole cookbook/food show thing

zimmboni: Exactly, I did a book tour last year in the off-season :-)

omgcheckplease: oh my gosh, isn’t it the best and the worst?

zimmboni: I know. It’s great to meet people and talk about your work, but it’s exhausting.

omgcheckplease: that’s why I’m so excited to be back in Providence! at least until the next cookbook.

zimmboni: Well we should probably meet up to trade suitcases. Want to meet somewhere for dinner?

omgcheckplease: don’t trust me to learn where your house is?

zimmboni: I mean, if dinner goes well enough…

omgcheckplease: OH. okay, then, Mr. Zimmermann, it’s a date.

Jack smiled to himself, and got ready for his date.

  • Ed: [Points a gun at Oswald] I am not letting you get away this time.
  • Oswald: [Kicks the gun out of Ed hand and kicks Ed to the ground]
  • Oswald: [Picks up the gun] that makes two of us
  • Oswald: [Fires the gun]
  • Oswald: [Looks at gun] what the hell?
  • Ed: OH MY GOD!!! YOU REALLY WANTED TO SHOOT ME!! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WERE ACTUALLY GOING TO KILL ME!!
  • Oswald: [Looks inside gun] BLANKS??? YOU HAVE BEEN CHASING ME AROUND FOR 2 DAYS STRAIGHT WITH A GUN FULL OF BLANKS??!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??
  • Ed: WELL I WASNT ACTUALLY GOING TO KILL YOU!!
  • Oswald: [Looks confused as fuck] WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WERE'NT ACTUALLY GOING TO KILL ME???
  • Ed: I THOUGHT WE WERE JUST PLAYING A GAME WHERE I CHASE YOU AROUND THE CITY THAN YOU CHASE ME AROUND THE CITY PRETENDING WE WANT TO KILL EACH OTHER OH MY GOD YOU REALLY WANTED ME TO DIE
  • Oswald: WHAT IN GODS NAME MADE YOU THINK I KNEW WE WERE PLAYING A GAME??!!
  • Ed: I JUST THOUGHT YOU WERE BEING A GOOD ACTOR!!!

ok on one hand i kinda think rhodonite is the least interesting of the new gems we met in SU:Wanted, BUT ON THE OTHER HAND IT MAKES ME REALLY EXCITED TO SEE A LASTING FUSION WITH  4 EYES AND 4 ARMS.

LOOK AT ALL THESE PRECIOUS 

FUSION POSES

and she’s SO DRAMATIC, her personality is   p e r f e c t   for a ruby/pearl fusion, oh my god she’s such a precious silly thing!!

I LOVE HER

WHO’S BIASED I’M NOT BIASED