omg guys we done it! :d best weekend of all time!


Originally posted by tt-aeils

bear with me please this is my first bullet point fic and my first fanfic since like 7th grade?? mlp was a dark stage

-okay so you aren’t tumblr famous really but you do have a few hundred followers on tumblr and you put time and effort in your theme and stuff, like ur blog is classy but trashy,,

-you pretty much use Tumblr daily and you are a bts blogger and post gifs that you make for bts and a few headcanons

-so one day in math class you get like 30 notifications that someone liked and reblogged your gifs

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anonymous asked:

Can we also talk about how Bakugou went from "weird haired guy" to "Kirishima. Change of plans". Oh man I didn't realize how much I missed the anime *cries*

BOI CAN’T WE I just spent the whole morning crying over seeing the moment Bakugou recognizes Kirishima as an equal animated nbd at all r i p me - I think this might be the first time Bakugou calls anyone by their name, actually, and I just!!! that’s because Bakugou heard Kirishima’s words and recognized him as a good partner and a worthy hero and someone whom he could respect and I’m gonna be grateful for chapter 133 for the insight on this for the rest of my always I !!!!!! have feelings g a h

Anon said: ok ok ok ok but but listen what about BAKGOU AND OCHAKO they are the most popular couple and the most cutest , i think you should try to draw them once i would love love to see this !!! of course just if you want hehe thanx

Ahhh sorry anon but I really don’t ship that - I mean, it’s true that I ship Bakugou with a bunch of people aside from my main two, but if they’re part of Deku’s group you can fairly assume they’re not between my Bakugou ships? And I only romantically ship Uraraka with Deku, Tsuyu and Iida anyway so! You’re probably not gonna see any romantic baku/ocha from me, sorry o<-<

Anon said: Since we know what Bakugou’s parents are like, what do you think Kirishima’s parents are like?

I have a similar ask somewhere asking about Kaminari’s parents as well, so I guess I’ll answer both here?? As a general rule I don’t really like making headcanons over stuff I’m sure the manga will give me in the future, so I can’t say I’ve thought about this too much - there are a few things I work under the assumption of while drawing, like for example I’m taking for granted they both have at least functional families, considering Aizawa personally visited their homes to ask their guardians about allowing them back to school, and if anything had been weird he would have noticed

I like to think Kaminari got his quirk straight from one of his two parents with no mixing happening, and got the Kaminari surname from them as well, but that’s all I ever allowed myself to settle on as far as Kami’s family goes, everything else changes based on what I need for the current scenario I’m thinking about… I do often end back on him being an only child, though - in the same way depending on how angst or lighthearted I want it to be my ideas for Kirishima’s family change a lot, but generally I think I mostly fall back on the idea of him having a big family? In a scenario like that his parents are kind and love him a lot, but having many children and needing to split their attention on all of them might cause them to overlook him a little (it would explain his obsession with being flashy, for me) then again, who knows? I don’t know how canon you can consider the infos SMASH gives, but in one of the strips Kiri mentions working part-time, and the fact that he doesn’t seem to have problems with money kinda makes me believe he might be independent from his family like that (unless he’s a rich kid, also very entertaining as a possiblity)

I’ve seen a lot of headcanons floating around about both of these guys’ families and possibly being related to villains, that would be cool too, though I’m not sure how much I believe it

I’m sorry this ended up being little to no useful at all lol as I said, I just shift between scenarios a lot - imagine settling on one and growing attached and then having to let it go once Hori proves it wrong, that’d be terrible for me

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More than this - Stiles Stilinski / Theo Raeken {part 9}

*gif is not mine, found through google image search*

[part 1-8 (Masterlist)]

A/N: Hey guys, again sorry for the long wait, i have soo much on my plate right now and i still need to finish a request. I know i know, you guys miss Stiles but in this chapter, there is no direct Stiles x Reader interaction, BUT he is mentioned and IT’S IMPORTANT for the following chapter! So don’t skip this if you’re just here for Stiles. For those who are disappointed with the lack of Stiles x Reader, please be aware that this is a journey (omg i sound like a show writer i hate myself lol i’m jeff) Don’t worry guys, i love you to pieces.

Warnings: None, fluff, fluff FLUFF. (okay kiinda a subtle mention of sex ya know me)

(y/d/n) = your dad’s name

I was lying on my bed, head on Theo’s chest and our legs entangled. We we’re watching a movie on Netflix together. After the party, Theo decided to stay over because my parents weren’t home for the weekend, so we spent the whole Saturday together. It was now Sunday morning, and tomorrow the holidays would begin. No school, god bless.

Theo drew little circles with his fingers on my back while I was quietly sniffling at the sad scene in the movie. I didn’t like romance movies that much, I preferred horror, thriller, that kind of stuff. But when I did watch a romantic movie and the scene was sad, I usually cried like a baby. By the time the credits were rolling I was practically bawling.

“Oh my god Babygirl, I didn’t think you’d get so emotional.” Theo chuckled, rubbing my back.

“Shut up! It was heartbreaking okay? Can you imagine how her life will be, now that she lost him forever?” I tried to wipe the tears away but it didn’t work, since new tears were already running down my face.

“Stop crying (y/n), I can’t stand it when you’re upset.” He said, pulling me into his arms even more, hugging me more tightly.

Theo sweetly kissed my head and kept rubbing my back in a soothing manner. It took a few minutes and I stopped crying, feeling rather tired now all cuddled up, the only thing I heard was Theo’s steady heartbeat and his slow breathing.

But as soon as I felt like falling asleep, he broke the silence.

“Do you ever wonder…how we ended up like this? I mean, at the beginning it was supposed to be a casual hook-up. And got me wrapped around your little finger.” Taking my finger in his hands, he playfully bit it, making me laugh.

“Well, I am glad we ended up like this. That it’s not just a one-time thing.” I stated, touching his cheek.

“Me too.” He said with a serious smile on his face, pure adoration in his eyes.

Since my parents would come home soon, the two of us decided that it would be the best if Theo left. I helped him gather up all his things and led him to our front door. He swung his overnight bag on his shoulder and stood in the doorframe, ready to head home.

“So..this was nice. I mean, the weekend together.” He mumbled, a shy smile on his face.

“Yes yes it was. I liked spending so much time with you. In bed for example.” I grinned, taking a step further.

“Oh that’s what you’re thinking about.” He smirked. “Well, now that you’re on the family trip for the next week, you will unfortunately have to wait for it.” I shivered at the way he let his fingers glide over my forearm, the desire in his eyes making me blush.

“How am I going to survive a week without” I leaned in, “this.” I whispered, then closing the distance between us and kissing him passionately. Before things got too heated we parted again, breathing heavily.

“I’ll miss you” he hummed while hugging me tightly.

“I’ll miss you, too.”

I watched him as he got into his car, waving one last time before he took off.

An hour passed and my parents arrived from their work trip, greeting me enthusiastically.

“So how was the weekend honey?” my mom asked me while we were at the dinner table.

“It was…fine.” I said, before immediately shoving a fork of pasta into my mouth, hoping no one spotted the soft pink that crept up my cheeks just by the thought of the time I spent with Theo.

“Oh, I almost forgot! You know your dad and I have been planning our camping trip the last few days, and guess who decided to join us!” I looked up from my plate raising my eyebrows at my mom who’s smile went extremely wide.

“The Stilinski’s!” my mom clapped her hands happily and I almost choked on my pasta.

There is no way in hell that my mom just said I was going to spend the next week on a campsite with-

“That’s great isn’t it? I talked to John this morning and he said he’s so happy to come with us! You and Stiles have been friends since you’ve been three years old and now that you two made up we thought this was the perfect opportunity to celebrate that!”

“Wow, uhm, yea that’s..that’s awesome.” I chuckled nervously, playing it off like I was totally okay with it because I didn’t want to disappoint my parents. Our camping trips have always been a tradition and they plan everything weeks in advance.

After dinner, I went to my room to pack my bag for tomorrow. I had a list of things I needed for our trip on my desk and began to put all the things on my bed that were on it. When I put the item in my bag, I made a little checkmark on my list. This way I was done in no time and I could make sure that I didn’t forget anything. Checking the “red big sweater”, I was finished.

It was about nine pm and I was laying in my bed, thinking about the trip and how it was going to be like to spend a whole week alone with Stiles after what had happened between us. We were practically friends again but there was still some kind of unspoken tension between us. It wasn’t like it used to be, even if we denied it.

That night I slowly drifted off to sleep, dreaming about strong arms holding me close, whispering sweet nothings into my ear, a person with green and sometimes amber eyes.

As soon as I woke up Monday morning, I could hear my parents arguing downstairs. Every holiday, the morning of our departure, hell broke loose. There was no other time in the year when my parents, especially my mom, were this stressed.

“(y/d/n), did you put the air pump in the trunk already? I am not driving back like last year because we forgot to bring it!” I heard my mom yell.

“First of all Love, we wouldn’t have had to drive back if you’d gotten over yourself and just slept under the sky, it wasn’t even cold! And secondly, you wanted to drive back too because you forgot the hand sanitizer.” My dad replied.

And this is how it would go all morning.

Did you think of the paper towels?

We can’t forget the first aid kid!

What if I don’t have enough socks?

Do you REALLY need this sweater in three different colors?

Briefly going over my list and bag again, I was ready to go. Before I left the house I threw on a light jacket and stepped into my beloved Doc Martens. After entering the car, I plugged in the aux wire to my phone. Even though my parents hated my taste in music, I got to be in charge of the playlist because I despised  driving with a passion. Short routes were fine, but everything as of an hour made me sick, which is why I had to take medicine for travelling.

Listening to Work Song by Hozier, I nodded my head and tapped my fingers on my legs in the beat of the music, letting my mind drift off to escape the time and traffic.

When, my, time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I’ll crawl home to her

(The Song has nothing to do with the storyline, I just adore this song. It’s so beautiful, go listen to it.)

[Part 10 here]

Luke Imagine: Trying to Fix a Divorce Part 2

Author: Rhine

Part 1


He wouldn’t sign the papers.

He wouldn’t give up on you. Not without a fight.

No, he wouldn’t give up on you at all.

He wouldn’t let you walk out of his life, just like that.

He forgets that he did the exact same to you, so many times before. 


Luke tells you he wants to talk to you first.

Just sign the papers, Luke. 

He refuses stubbornly, insisting on seeing you to discuss it.

I just want to talk.

You laugh humorlessly, though you’re careful not to wake your sleeping daughter in the next room.

Six months and suddenly you want to talk to me? Is this what it takes?

Your humor is twisted and you suspect you’re not quite right. You’re not sure if it’s because of Luke’s absence or his sudden reappearance; if he’s your problem or your solution.

Look, just have lunch with me tomorrow. We’ll settle everything then.

You’re quiet for a moment, contemplating your choices. You wanted this to be quick, clean, and painless - you didn’t want your resolve to crack and you didn’t want to be the weak one anymore.


The word comes out short, clipped, and you want it to scratch him like broken glass. 

You tell yourself this is the last time you’re giving in to Luke.


You vow to yourself you wouldn’t forget. 

You wouldn’t forget every lonely night, every empty morning. You wouldn’t forget the silence that echoed too loudly or the nights when you collapsed with no one to catch you. You wouldn’t forget long days and sleepless nights of trying to raise a child by yourself, of trying to raise yourself. You wouldn’t forget the hopeless waiting, the stupid yearning, the foolish hoping.

You wouldn’t forget what Luke had done to you - or rather, what he didn't do.

You wouldn’t let yourself forget your daughter asking you where’s daddy or coming back home crying because her friend’s dad picked her up and her daddy never came to see her at school and you wouldn’t forget the messy crayon drawings of Luke and your family that your daughter buried in her notebooks for him to see but never would, or the memories of her sitting next to the phone every night, waiting for it to ring.

You steeled yourself with these memories and you let them make you stronger instead of break you down.

You wouldn’t let him break you. 

Not when he already has.


He’s already there, waiting for you.

You come ten minutes late, just to spite him. Just so he knows what it’s like to wait, to wonder where you are, to feel that flicker of doubt that you had for six months.

He smiles faintly at you, but you are steel and you refuse to bend.

But you can’t help but to notice how his hair is a little longer, a little messier; how his eyes have faint shadows underneath them, how there’s a stubble on his chin - he never did shave until you reminded him - and you notice how there’s something off about him.

The person who sits across from you is a stranger in the body of a man you once knew so well.

“Where’s your ring?”

It’s the first thing he asks you, the first thing he notices. His blue eyes dart to your ring finger, and he sees that it’s bare; a pale strip of skin where the band of gold should be.

He’s not sure why his heart plummets.

“Let’s discuss what we came here for, shall we?”

You’re curt and cold, wanting to get out of there before you broke in front of him.

It’s been so long. You want to reach out and touch his face or hold his hand or just simply feel his touch, but you remind yourself what you were here for. Of what was right.

“About the.. the di - di - ”

The word won’t leave his lips, almost as if he’s afraid he says it out loud, it’ll become reality and crash down onto him.

But you’ve already come to terms of the crumbled remains of what the two of you called a marriage.

“Divorce, yes.”

Luke winces when you say the word, and you raise an eyebrow of amusement at his reaction.

“I don’t see why we need it." 

"Of course you don’t see it, Luke. You’re never there.

“I’m on tour, why can’t you understand - ”

Those four words, those four stupid words hits a switch in you, and you find yourself snapping, your next words coming out low and venomous. 

“I do understand, Luke. Don’t you think for a single moment that I don’t. Because I do. I understand that you have a job and that you have a dream and yes, that requires you to leave. That it requires you to leave for months at a time and that it requires to leave even when you’re here. I understood when you asked me to be your girlfriend, when you asked me to marry you. I knew the terms and conditions; I knew you’d be gone and I knew that for most of the seasons I’d be alone. I understand.

Luke’s lips snap shut and he recoils at your sudden poison.

“But do you understand, Luke? Do you understand that you have a family? That it might require some effort even when you’re gone? Do you understand that maybe when I signed up to marry you, I wanted a husband, not a ghost? That our daughter deserves a father and not some stranger in the house? Do you understand that just because you have a dream and just because you have this job, it does not act as an excuse in this family?”

When you’re done, you’re breathless and agitated.

So much for keeping your cool.

But the months of bitterness leave your lips and you can’t help but to feel a little bit lighter.

You don’t consider the idea that you might be a little bit more hollow on the inside.

Luke is silent, his eyes downcast, avoiding yours. His lips are pressed tautly together, his hands entwined with each other, knuckles white.

After a moment, he finally responds.

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

You slam him down, and you can’t deny that it feels good for a moment, to have him hurt as you did. To hurt him as he did to you.

You ignore the guilt that tries to seep into your bones.

“I can change.”

“No, you can’t.”

“There was a time when you thought I could.”

“That was before you let me down, Luke.”

His jaw is clenched and he’s starting to shake and you think you might be starting to break at seeing him like this - so broken, so conflicted, and all because of you.

You want to see him break as much as you want to see him fly and all you can do is hope you don’t shatter before he does.

His words are soft and haunted, a shaking whisper. 

“You’re killing me here.”

“Then I’m already dead.”

He looks up at you then, his bright blue eyes starting to swim with tears. You will yourself not to drown like you did so many times before.

“Just - please, Luke. Please sign the papers. It’s all I ask of you. It’s all I’ll ever ask of you again.”

You whisper, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice. You push the papers closer to him, and he looks at them, chin quivering.

He looks defeated.

“It’s for the best, Luke.”

His hands are still knotted in his lap, making no move to pick up the pen in front of him.

“What about - what about..?”

His words are hoarse and trembling, though he tries to control himself. He tries to control his tears from falling and you try to do the same.

You can’t remember the last time you saw Luke cry.

You can’t remember the last time you were the reason for his tears.

Things change, you suppose.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less though.

“She’ll be with me. But you can still see her - when you’re here you can have her for half the week or for weekends and when you’re not I’ll take care of her. We’ll work something out.”

“But we can’t work this out?”

“You’ve given me nothing to work with, Luke.”

You’re hurting him and if this was a battlefield then he would be bleeding on the ground.

But you don’t let yourself forget the scars he gave you; the ones that still haven’t quite stopped bleeding.

“So that’s it? You’re just taking everything?”

His voice is getting steadier now, the trembling subsiding. He stops sinking into his seat and he starts looking at you, and you meet his stare, refusing to back down.

“It’s nothing you haven’t left behind already.”

You raise your chin stubbornly, though your knees are shaking in your seat.

You just wanted to get out of there, to leave Luke’s piercing eyes before they broke you again, to forget what it was like to be so close to him again.

“So everything we had.. everything was nothing to you?”

His words are whispers, blue eyes boring into yours.

“What was it to you?”

You refuse to back down to his stare, no matter how nervous it made you, no matter how many butterflies erupted in your stomach.


His answer is simple, the word almost light amidst the heaviness of the conversation. 

“It didn’t feel like it.”

Your words are hard and biting as you remember the nights alone in the empty bed, of counting down the days on the calender, of waiting for a phone call that never came.

“Then what did it feel like to you? What did you feel when I held you in my arms when I came out of the airport? What did you feel when I made you mine, when you accepted me, welcomed me? What did you feel on the night of our wedding, when we exchanged vows, when you walked down that aisle? What was that feeling?”

His voice grows stronger, though his volume never increases. His eyes bore into yours, his voice low, his frame no longer weak and sinking into his chair. 

“Tell me, what did you feel?”

“We were young and stupid and it was a rash decision and we were foolish and we moved too fast and - ”

The excuses you rehearsed so many times in your head fall out of your lips, tumbling like an avalanche - hardly the eloquence you hoped for.

His words were threatening to crack you.

What did you feel?”

“I felt love, Luke. I felt love when I kissed you at that stupid altar and I felt love when you got down on one knee. I felt love when you kissed me, I felt love when you returned home and when you laid down next to me.”

There’s a tremble in your voice that you hate, but at least you get the solidity of the words out.

“That’s the thing, Luke. I felt it. It was there, but now.. now it’s gone. What I feel now is loneliness. Emptiness.”

His next words are barely a whisper, his eyes sad.

“Why did you let it go?”

“Why did you take it away?”

You answer his question with one of your own, and you can see the frustration and sadness and anger in his eyes; the same reflecting in your own.

“Please, Luke. I came here to get the papers back with your signature on this. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“And I came to fix this. Why take the easy route of destruction when we can rebuild?”

There’s nothing left, Luke.”

“Then we’ll start from scratch again.”

There’s a faintest hint of a smile on his lips, the smallest rays of hope in his eyes.

“I don’t want to build something only to have it broken again.”

“I don’t want to leave a mess of perfectly good parts lying around.”

You glare at him, and you think you might be imagining it, but you think you see his smile grow, just a little.

“You had your chances, Luke.”

“So you’re just going to do this to our family? Tear us apart like this? What about our daughter? What about us?”

“It’s nothing you haven’t already torn apart, Luke.”

I can fix it.”

“We’re not a car, Luke. Some things.. some things should just stay broken.”

“We’re not ‘some things’. We’re something more than that.”

“Don’t be delusional.”

“Don’t be a pessimist.”

You sigh in frustration, your banter getting you nowhere you wanted it to.

When you look at Luke, he’s not smirking like you thought he would be. He’s looking at you intently, hope in his eyes and the smallest smile on his lips. 

He leans over and encases your hands in his; the feeling of his hands over yours foreign yet so strangely familiar all at once, like reading a line off a forgotten book that once held so much meaning to you before you hid it on a shelf to gather dust.

“Just one chance. Just one. That’s all I’m asking of you.”

He’s pleading with you, and you will your resolve not to crack. 

“That’s one more than you deserve, Luke.”

“Then find it in your heart to pity me. I’m not asking you to forgive me - I know I screwed up and I know I was an idiot and I’m sorry I’m sorry - and I know the last thing I deserve right now is forgiveness.”

You’re silent, pursing your lips.

But you don’t move your hands from his, either.

“I’m asking for you to let me fix things. To own up to my mistakes. To change - and I know you think I can’t, but that’s the first thing I want to change.”

He smiles at you, the light slowly returning into his eyes.

I love you. And I know I’m terrible at showing it and I know I’m a crap husband and a crap father and that the two of you deserve better but you know I’ve always been a stubborn, selfish little shit and that I could never let either you go.”

“I’m not asking for you to love me again. I’m not asking you to move back in. I’m asking for you to let me work on this, one day at a time. I’ll sleep alone. I’ll give you space. And then maybe I’ll call when you’re comfortable. And we’ll work it up to a visit. I don’t care if it takes months or years; I’m not leaving until I make it right." 

His fingers start to rub against your knuckles softly, and you can’t help but to relax, to melt under his touch.

"And - and if I screw it up, if I screw anything up, then I’ll sign those papers. I promise.”

He sounds sad, but his voice is sincere, and you can’t help but to believe him.

“I always keep my promises.”

You raise an eyebrow at him at his statement, and he catches it, a small, humorless chuckle leaving his lips.

“I know you don’t think that way, but I do. I remember every promise I made you, from those late nights when we were seventeen to the promises I made to you at the altar. I know I haven’t been very good at keeping them, but I don’t intend on breaking them. I meant every word. I mean every word. I love you.”

He looks at you, eyes full of hope, and you think you’ve melted.


You’re quiet, the word barely leaving your lips. You almost hope Luke doesn’t catch it.

You hate yourself for giving in, but you can’t help but to love the beam that blooms on Luke’s face; his features lightening instantly, melting away to the epitome of happiness and relief.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t. Thank you.”

Almost by instinct, he leans over and envelops you in a bone-crushing hug. 

You’re instantly immersed in his scent and his arms and in him, and it was like falling all over again. 

He tenses when he realizes what he’s done, afraid of stepping over the line.

But you find yourself relaxing in his arms, the smallest of smiles starting to spread on your lips.

It wasn’t home, not quite yet - but for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that one day, maybe it could be again.


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