over sized coat

De-aged Carlos running around in an over sized lab coat confused and scared by his surroundings but he instinctively trusts the pretty radio guy and follows him around tugging on his sleeve and asking for piggybacks and of course Cecil finds him absolutly adorable and does the whole show with him sitting on his lap trying to keep him from messing with the controls

xeylah  asked:

Iwaoi, #26?

#26 - sitting on the same park bench au


“Listen, okay,” the businessman sitting next to him says into his phone, “you just have to- no, Tobio-chan, don’t you dare.”

Hajime looks at the stranger out of the corner of his eye. He looks kinda frustrated, his hair perfectly in place the way all rich people’s is and his suit perfectly pressed. Other than the expression on his face Hajime would even call the stranger cute. Hajime hunkers down in his over-sized coat and keeps listening, because the stranger will never know that he’s eavesdropping. 

“I swear to God, when I get there if you’ve ruined our chances- of course you’re ruining it! You’re you! What do you mean ‘what do you mean’?”

Hajime almost laughs. This guy is a complete and total asshole.

“Listen, Tobio-chan, just put down the case file and back away slowly and I will look it over when I get back. Yes, you can do that. I mean it, Tobio-chan.”

Hajime does laugh then but he manages to turn it into a cough. The businessman sends him a courtesy glance, the kind you send strangers all the time to make sure they aren’t evil incarnate, but then he does a double-take and starts scanning Hajime with interest. Hajime does not like the look in his eyes.

“Tobio-chan, I have to go. Don’t do anything without me.” The stranger hangs up the call and honest to god licks his lips. There’s no point in avoiding it now so Hajime meets his stare head on.

“No,” Hajime says.

The attractive stranger actually pouts at Hajime as though he’s taking away a treat of some kind. “Oh, come on I didn’t even introduce myself yet.”

“I’m not interested,” Hajime says but he’s not getting up to leave even though he really should.

“I’m Oikawa Tooru, attorney at law,” Oikawa says, reaching out a hand in Hajime’s direction, “and your new best friend.”

Hajime feels his lips twitch in amusement. “Iwaizumi Hajime,” he introduces before he can think better of it, “and I’m not your friend.”

Oikawa laughs out loud and it sounds ridiculously good. “Iwa-chan, so mean.”


I’m still doing fic prompts from this list~!

unforth-ninawaters  asked:

Dean/Cas, high school AU, rivals to friends/lovers? (And it's nice to see you back, I like your writing a lot, I hope things are okay for you!)

Dean wasn’t exactly a bad student but he’d never been particularly great at anything. Math was his best subject and most of the time he got A’s or B’s in that but he wasn’t like some super genius. That would be Sam.

When he started wrestling, he thought he’d finally found something he was great at. Coach Blevins was impressed with him and since Benny Lafitte was graduating in a year, there didn’t seem to be anything holding Dean back from becoming the next team captain.

Until Castiel freaking Novak showed up.

Castiel transferred early in the year, easily making the team. Then, just before the start of the season in November, he managed to squeeze up into Dean’s weight class.

During their first match at practice, Castiel had Dean pinned in ten seconds flat.

Keep reading

310.

Clint counted out the stack of bills, laughed a little through a throat that was kinda sore, this time of the night. He’d broke about even, after gas money and the couple drinks he’d had, the new strings he’d had to shell out for after Jess found out about the accidental redhead. Bartender always told him he’d probably do better for tips if he didn’t insist on covering so much Dolly Parton, but the woman was a goddess, and Clint wasn’t gonna apologise for that. 

He tipped his hat at Katie and she rolled her eyes at him, wiping a cloth across the bar like it’d ever be clean, like there was anything holding it together aside from spilled beer and sadness. 

This late, the bar was almost empty, and if you squinted your eyes almost closed it could be welcoming, kinda place everyone knew your name. Course, if you squinted your eyes almost closed some asshole’d steal your drink for starters, so Clint settled for buzzing neon and stained pool tables, the tape-patched seat of the chair that was practically his. 

He zipped his guitar case closed and swung it onto his back, hitched himself far enough over the bar’s hatch to fetch the duffel that held his bow. After a day working the farm, afternoon of archery, evening right here, tiredness was pulling at the edges of the day, stretching everything out like taffy. He yawned as he headed out the door at the back, by the men’s room, turning to the right and then heading in a straight line that cut across the scrubby grass they billed as a garden, vaulted the low fence and fetched up right by his truck. 

He heaved his guitar and his bow into the carpet-lined alcove set aside for them, started threading the blue nylon rope across the top. It was a little tough to see what he was doing with the lights blown out, and he managed to get his fingers caught somehow. 

“Aaw, rope,” he said sadly, which was when his day really went to shit. 

“Gimme your wallet,” a voice said behind him, rough and tired in the darkness. “Guitar, too. And whatever’s in the bag.” 

Clint carefully wiggled his fingers free from whatever screw-up he’d made of the rope and turned around slow, hands held a little away from his sides. 

There wasn’t much to be seen. Ragged-cut dark hair spilling out from under a ball cap, over-sized army coat with one sleeve tied in a knot, boots that honestly looked a little more hole than leather right now. His face looked hollowed out in the shadow, his eyes glinting in the darkness, his teeth where he was chewing on his lip, the knife he held. 

“Okay,” Clint said, in his low soothing voice, the one he had legitimately used to talk down lions. “Counter-offer. I give you the cash I made tonight, you leave the guitar and bow, and I take you somewhere I can get you a meal and a change of clothes.” 

“This ain’t a negotiation, pal,” the man said, and Clint shrugged apologetically. 

“Look, bro, if it comes to it, I’m gonna win. You gotta work from the assumption that I’m gonna win, okay, ‘cos I’m ex-army and I was fuckin’ good at my job. And I figure you’ve served yourself -” the hand holding the knife lowered slightly, hooah! - “but you’re down at least a few square meals. So let me help you out.” 

“And why’m I gonna trust you?” 

Maybe Clint was misreading his tone completely - his aids always fucked up a little after a night of singing - but there was something that he thought was willing to be persuaded, there. 

“No clue,” Clint said, “but you can ask the bartender inside if I’ve ever been any more of an asshole than your average fuck-up.” 

He just looked tired, most of all. Like the world had always weighed on his shoulders, but lately it’d been hanging a little heavier. He pushed up his ball cap a little, looked Clint up and down, and the bone structure under the exhaustion and the malnutrition and the distrust was like somethin’ out of a painting. Clint found his mouth was suddenly, inexplicably dry, and he cast around desperately for something to say - the crates resting in the back of his truck saved him. 

“I’m not offering fine dining,” he said, like that was the decider here. “I’ve got… well, beets, mostly. Mostly beets.” 

“I, er.” The guy took a step forward, hesitant. “I lived in Russia a while. I can make a pretty good borscht.” 

“Then I am glad to meet you, ‘cos if there’s something Iowa doesn’t offer it’s a decent borscht.” Clint held out his hand. This was the tipping point, he figured, the more so for a guy with one arm. The guy who regarded him for a second and then tucked his knife in the back of his pants so he could shake his hand. 

“I’m Clint,” he said. “Clint Barton. I own the Barton farm, clue’s in the name, if you’ve got someone you wanna tell.” 

“Bucky,” the guy said. There was grime ground into the lines of his palm, and he looked a little self-conscious when he pulled his hand back. 

“Got a last name to go with that?” Clint asked, rounding the back of the truck, and when he glanced across the truck-bed Bucky was frowning. 

“Yeah,” he said, the tone of his voice hard to describe. “I got no clue.” 

Goodnight Dr. Forceps – a Bughead One-shot

Written in response to @jokerscrown ‘s prompt on bughead-fanfic-wishlist 
“ A fic where Betty got injected with an anaesthetic because she broke her arm, and feels a little loopy after the operation. Jughead is the nurse in charge to take care of Betty, and loopy Betty kinda asks Jughead to marry her, and says she loves him. They both are strangers.” 

Read it on AO3 here



The world was a little different during night shift. It often ushered in intoxicated demons; shadows stretched their gnarled fingers across the little hospital garden; and on the worst nights, when sleep had failed him completely, strange shapes danced along the edges of Jughead’s vision making it hard to be sure what was real.

So, it didn’t worry him quite as it perhaps should when he saw an angel in the ER waiting reception. He was rushing through, a car accident to attend to, so an impression of white gown, blonde waves and radiance was all he had a chance to capture.

Still, it stayed with him throughout the night.

*****

A few hours later, Jughead was in the middle of trying to calm down a shrieking five-year-old with a very painful ear infection, when his best friend Archie walked over.

“Jug, would you mind swapping and taking over the aftercare for my patient? She keeps asking for you”, Archie asked in a surprisingly sulky tone for someone asking a favour.

Archie was a good nurse, but sometimes Jughead couldn’t help but feel there was more than a little truth in his friend’s jokes about going into the profession because of its high female to male ratio.

“Asking for me?” he asked suspiciously. “It’s not Mrs. Wyndham again, is it?” The elderly and somewhat hypochondriac librarian had taken a shine to Jughead and would barely allow anyone else to tell her that there was really nothing wrong.

“No, a cute blonde. Solid 8.5. She’s said I was cute but then started insisting on speaking to, and I quote, ‘the glarey dark haired boy’. No idea why she wants you, but I think the anaesthetic has messed with her head a bit.”

“Gee thanks Arch, when you sweet talk me like that, how can I possibly say no?”

Keep reading

Day Fifty-Four

-A new parent purchased what seemed to be a utility belt for baby supplies, complete with a holster for the infant itself. I was saddened to find that I was mistaken, but now I know how I am going to make my millions. 

-A woman thanked me for “pushing the magic button” after I handed over her receipt. I am unsure of what exactly I did or how I did it, but I am enthralled to find out that I have been a wizard all along.

-I rang up a very old man in a beige bucket hat and thick sunglasses. His secretive demeanor, cash payment, and gardening gloves poking out of his over-sized coat served to confirm my suspicions that this man had been placed in Florida as part of a witness protection program but had somehow managed to become very, very lost.

-A man approached me and handed me a stack of items, asking me to hold them for him as he stepped outside to pee. We have very nice bathrooms in the front of the store, the same distance away as the front door, but it is not my place to question his decisions regarding his bodily functions.

-A girl came through my lane in a shirt that read, “Tired of being heterosexual? Hello.” She may not know it, and I may never see her again, but she is now both my idol and my best friend.

-I asked a man if he was interested in our discount card. He told me he is not welcome. Neither of us spoke again. Too much was left unsaid.

-While I struggled to scan an item, the woman purchasing it looked me in the eye seriously and leaned in so as to let me in on a secret. As I eagerly waited to hear what she had to tell me with such confidentiality, she whispered, “That means it’s free if it doesn’t scan.” This is the retail Rickroll and I cannot believe I have been duped in this way.

-I caught sight of a man staring at me out of the corner of my eye. Scared for my safety, I looked to find a life-size display of a country singer. Today, Garth Brooks has made a nemesis for life.

-A woman let her small infant crawl over the conveyor belt and onto my computer. She was fully aware, yet seemed entirely detached, watching on as her child launched themselves onto my keyboard while I stood there, helpless. My requests to do something meant nothing to this woman. This child was on an expedition and she clearly felt it was not her place to hinder his passion. I can respect this, but the backup cashiers that the child called probably do not feel the same.

-As I was helping a sweet woman purchase a dozen pump bottles of lotion for her nail spa, a guest in my line got fed up with the wait and left in a huff for a different lane. I do not understand this as it was a short transaction, she was next in line, I was in the last ten seconds of the purchase, and each of the other open lanes had long lines, but she was too determined for me to suggest she wait it out. 

3

New Concept: Fairy Train.

It’s a speacil kind of train that only runs at midnight. Humans that find the train are usually ones who desire to dissapear. The Train is run by strange creatures who say they’re fairies, but they look nothing like the fairies of lore. They’re most likely interdimensional creatures on a daily commute between our world and theirs.

Keep reading

The Host with the least

Host sat in his chair in his room. His over sized coat flowing over the chair. On any normal day, Host would be reading and smiling. But today wasn’t normal, today Host was a child. He looked around and clicked as he tried to keep his blindfold around his eyes. “Help,” he called in a small voice. “Host need help!”

Smile Part 3  Heath Ledger x Reader

“Where am I?” I sat up my eyes only met by darkness. I was laying on some sort of bed that in all honesty felt like a metal table with a thin pad on it, a small blanket rested over my  legs. My body was pulsating with exhaustion I wanted to go back to sleep but my mind told me to stay awake, I was in an unknown and possibly dangerous environment. My hands snaked down to feel the baby. My stomach was still slightly enlarged but not like it was a long scar trailed a crossed my lower stomach. ‘Did I have the baby?’ Confusion clouded my mind and I felt vulnerable in my current predicament.. I hated the feeling.  

 “Hello?!” I yelled hoping for an answer. I heard a voice shush me. Angrily I squinted my eyes. “Excuse m-” The lights flicked on and Joker was standing right in front of me  holding a baby wrapped in his purple coat jacket. My heart seemed to stutter a little at the sight of him. His make-up was smeared to hell, in some spots completely gone. “You’re going to wake the little monster.” He said his eyes never coming off of me. “Is that?” I said admiring how handsome he looked. He nodded his head ‘yes’ while walking over so he was standing by my side setting the baby gently into my arms. “Is it a boy?” He sat down on the bed running his make-up cover fingers through my hair. “No… It’s a sweet little girl… like you” He gave me a sarcastic look remaining silent for my reaction. I smirked  before hesitantly going in for a kiss but stopped myself millimeters from his lips. 

I froze afraid he wouldn’t want this. My cheeks flushed in embarrassment and I felt an immense amount of pity for our daughter who had to witness this while thinking about how disastrous our parenthood would be for her. To my surprise Joker leaned in connecting his lips with mine.  He left his lips stiff like he was kissing a frozen lamp post but he really just didn’t know how to kiss, he had never been a position where it was necessary to know. I didn’t care though. I put my hand on his cheek to deepen the kiss but he pulled away. “Sorry” I said looking down my cheeks flushing red. “We have guests.” He said grimly before walking out of a metal grey door. My heart dropped seeing him leave but now having the chance I looked around to see where I was. It appeared to be some sort of prison cell, there were no windows, the only exit being the grey door in front of me. “J?” My voice called out sadly I adjusted our daughter holding her closer to my body hoping it would save her from feeling uneasy.

 The room gave off a haunting vibe one like I was being locked away never to see the light of day. I called out louder hoping to hear the safety of his voice. “J?” I heard a loud slam on the door. I tightened my lips together knowing that was him telling me to shut up. I smiled down at the baby “I think that means we should be quite, Don’t you?” She just looked up at me. She had green eyes just like Joker and I but she had his natural hair color which was a sandy blonde. Her face held the same skeptical features her fathers did, even though she was fresh out of the womb she looked at you distrusting your character just like he did. I giggled at the similarities between the two. “Did daddy name you yet?” I coo’d watching her little hand grab at my long blonde hair. I tossed more hair over my shoulder so it covered her little face. She laughed sweetly both of her hands dancing through my hair. “Maybe you’re too silly for a name” I laughed poking her nose lightly with my finger, she let out another laugh before trying to snatch at my finger.

 Something shifted by the door. my head snapped up and I held our daughter tightly against my chest, a protective feeling coming over me. It was only Joker he smiled awkwardly waving, there was a soft look deep in his eyes that normally wasn’t there. I knew he sat there silently trying not to make any noise so he could watch. I smiled back at him feeling bright. “Hi” he said sitting back where he was sitting on the “bed” Relaxing I laid our little girl back down on my legs fixing her father’s over sized coat that served as her clothing. “What happened with this whole situation?” I said smiling waving my hand over her head. My eyes connected with his. He was looking at me something like sadness or longing running rampant inside of him. I could never tell what he was feeling though. “Well” he said seeming to snap out of his trance. “I found you in the cell next to mine rolling around on the floor” He stopped talking putting his index finger in the palm of our daughters hand. I leaned forward squinting my eyes. “and…? what about this?” I lifted up my shirt relieving the long scar.” He looked down at it then up at me sighing “Lacking the knowledge on how to deliver..” He motioned his finger which was being firmly held by the baby. “These things.. I had to improvise” I sat back a little shocked realizing what this entailed. “You cut me open?” He nodded dropping eye contact. “yeah…” I sat back up against the cold wall widening my eyes in disbelief. We at there silently for a moment the only sound being the happy noises from the baby. 

Tired my head fell onto his shoulder my mouth letting out a deep yawn. He took the baby out of my lap allowing me to lay fully against him. “Did you name her?” He rested his head on mine exceeding his usual amount of “touching time” or as he called it. “Jolene” He said in a tired voice. “Jolene?” I said sitting up “What happened to Jinx?” Our eyes met again this time he looked at me somewhat defeated he must have been through a lot over the past few days. I laid back down not bothering with his explanation. It was a nice name, the song by Dolly Parton played nicely through my head along with the pattern of his breathing taking e shortly into a deep sleep. 

I woke up in our apartment the next day. Jolene snoozing in the crib next to my bed. Joker was nowhere to be seen. I would see him again a few short hours later on the morning news hanging upside down from a building laughing his gorgeous laugh loudly. 

Originally posted by hudsonsbluff

Thanks for reading :) To be continued Same Bat-time Same Bat-channel

anonymous asked:

hiii i'm rebuilding my wardrobe and was wondering if you could list your wardrobe essentials???

hey lovie! this is an updated list of my old one i made for someone else:

  • black jeans
  • distressed boyfriend jeans
  • high waist jeans (with rips at the knees)
  • light wash/dark wash jeans
  • jean jacket (maybe by levi?!)
  • trench coat
  • an over sized coat (dark grey, black, mustard yellow, cream)
  • striped dress
  • striped shirts
  • overalls
  • oxfords
  • converse/vans
  • platform shoes (like bluchers)
  • over sized cardigans (black, grey, olive green, mustard yellow)
  • knee high/thigh high socks
  • denim circle and a-line skirts
  • corduroy circle and a-line skirts
  • pleated skirts
  • body con dresses (like the ones from brandy!)
  • t-shirt dresses
  • an over sized white tee
  • pleated pants
  • heels (without the platform)
  • sheer tops (white/black/tan)
  • doc marten boots/shoes
  • cropped sweaters
  • sweater tanks
  • ankle boots (like chelsea boots)
  • lace shirt/see-through tops
  • tanks with a lace trim around the neckline
  • turtleneck cropped tops
  • chunky turtlenecks!!!!
  • over sized denim button up(s)
  • over sized white button up dress shirt
  • flannels (and lots of them!!!)
  • faux suede tanks (tan, cream, black)
  • over sized tanks (grey, black, white)

anonymous asked:

I don't feel good right now, so I decided to make up a freezerburn headcanon. Yang sometimes convinces Weiss to switch jackets with her (whether it's their actual costumes in the show, or just casual clothing) so sometimes you'll see Weiss with an over sized coat and Yang in a coat that she can barely move her arms around in cause of how small it is on her.

GOD I’M SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE

anonymous asked:

Imagine little Apollo kids with over sized doctor coats following Will around the infirmary asking how they can help

He gives them little clipboards so they can take notes and asks them questions about what treatment the patient will need (they usually suggest stickers, kisses to the injury, and lollipops)