please-stop-talking

anonymous asked:

What if movie Justice League finding Damian while fighting LoA? Bats couldn't come that day bc board meeting and here they have his mini-me squirming in Diana's lasso. Diana and Clark keep throwing him at each other "you tell batman" "no u" while Barry squees and the rest debate if he's a modified clone or Batman forgot to use protection with wrong gal

When Damian says ‘I am the son of Batman’ even under the lasso everyone’s like WHAT THE FUCK and Arthur is just LAUGHING HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF HE THINKS IT’S SO FUCKING FUNNY. 

And they somehow get him (and maybe also Talia) in their custody and are flying a plane back to Gotham and Barry’s sitting with Damian like rambling about Bruce and how he’s funny but a little weird and like super buff and strong and Damian eventually is just like “Please stop talking or I’ll tear your tongue out.” and poor Barry’s just like “oh okay” and is SO SAD he doesn’t get to talk to this dumb kiddo anymore. 

Cyborg will probably become Damian’s favorite. Though eventually he and Arthur are gonna bond about having such different parents/being dropped on the doorstep by one and abandoned by the other, etc etc. 

Diana obviously adopts Damian on the spot, like she did with the rest of the League. 

even more random series of prompts
  • “Or, you know, you can not be boring and help me.“ 
  • "HAH, you’re as alone as I am!" 
  • "911? Yes, I’d like to report a loser." 
  • "See you in prison, pal!" 
  • "Thank god, I thought you were serious for a second there." 
  • "That got a lot more complicated than it needed to be." 
  • "Do I look like a cat to you?!" 
  • "Know this; I have all the baggage." 
  • "Time to ruin everything." 
  • "Did you know you have enough bones in your body to make a skeleton?” (B: “…Please stop talking.”) 
  • “Well this is a predicament." 
  • "I built this town with my bare hands." 
  • "Are you labeling me? And not in the metaphorical fashion, you are literally putting a label on me." 
  • "Is this what it’s like being average?" 
  • "That sigh was a lot louder than I intended it to be." 
  • "Hold me." 
  • "Hasta la vista, jackass." 
  • "This can’t be real." 
  • "I’m a romantic, I know ALL the pick-up-lines. Every single one." 
  • "Well isn’t this tubular?!" 
  • "They deny it, but they have no idea what they’re doing." 
  • "Quick, hide me!”

Hello Secret Sessioners please do not stop talking about Taylor’s happiness please tell me more and repeat it over and over again it is music to my ears and I want to know all about it thank you in advance

Davenport: Right, down to business. So what do we know about the Hunger?

Magnus: He has fun hurting people, so his evil heart tells him he’s doing it for a good cause. I’ll be the one to take him out.

Merle: He has a house, and likes Wii Sports.

Davenport: Really, who doesn’t though?

Magnus: Um, the homeless sir, have some tact.

Taako: Good job on the wack intel, Merle.

Merle: What, you don’t think that’s strange???

Lucretia: Wii Sports is a good game, Merle.

Lup: It’s five good games.

Barry: Can we please stop talking about Wii Sports

It’s actually kinda hard when you’re out as gay irl but then try to explain that you’re also asexual.

Yes i love girls no i dont want to fuck them bc my brain just doesnt even comprehend that way.

“Have you tried?”

Yes ive actually attempted really shady hookups thinking if i just got it “over with” id be fine, and bailed bc sex freaks me out at worst, and at best im like “fuck, what am i supposed to do?” *pokes the titty politely*

“You need to try again”

Bruh. This isn’t for lack of trying.

“You need to try with someone who’ll show you what to do”

The thing is, I KNOW WHAT TO DO. I’ve written kinkier porn than you even know exists, I’ve set thousands of readers on fire, I’ve expanded the sex lives of strangers (literally), and irl im still like “oh fuck, this beautiful girl is naked beside me and this is extremely inconvenient.”

I researched sex at a young age bc I didnt get it. I started writing smut at a young age bc i was trying to grasp my mind around it. If i could understand it, I’d warm up to it. I can write really good shit that i KNOW is good bc ppl will tell me it’s top notch in the fandom, and I’m like “lol maybe?” bc i literally cant tell for myself and over fifteen years later I still 👏 cant 👏 grasp 👏 this 👏 shit IN REAL LIFE.

i used to think “why am i so bad at being gay?” until i discovered asexuality existed and everything finally clicked.

I can’t tell you how good that felt. And i still doubted myself for a long time afterward.

It’s hard enough that my OWN brain is still like, “but maybe if they are beautiful enough and patient enough maybe you’re just shy maybe youre just-” but i literally had my fucking soulmate send me nudes and there was zero pressure bc it was long distance and my reaction was literally “oh no, now i have to figure out how react correctly” and she was fucking gorgeous and i loved her more than anyone else, i thought we were going to get married. I hated being so uncomfortable or at best thinking “i could tolerate it for her” and i cried myself to sleep more than once bc I was worried she’d think i didn’t actually love her, so please dont talk over my experience, you dont know it.

anonymous asked:

Hi!!!! For your Sweet Affectionate Moments Meme, number 32 please!! Pretty please with Sterek??? PS: Love your writing!!!

32. Getting caught in the act.

-

“Now–” Stiles’ dad says, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “I can understand the first time. You were young, had been dating for a few weeks. Hell, sometimes I couldn’t resist your mother either.”

Stiles thumps his head against the kitchen table and groans.

“And the second time was my fault.” His dad continues. “I walked in without knocking, I’ve learned my lesson.” He still glares at Derek though, like it’s his fault Stiles ended up the way he is. “But for god’s sake, you have a daughter now.”

Said daughter is currently sitting on the floor, mouthing at Derek’s fingers and drooling all over herself. She can’t even sleep the entire night yet.

Dad,” Stiles cries out, “can’t you just –”

“It won’t happen again, sir.” Derek says, barely holding his laughter at Stiles’ horrified expression.

What?” Stiles yells, making Mia start laughing at the noise. He takes a moment to smile down at his daughter and then turns to his husband again. “But – I like having sex on the couch.”

“Stiles!” Both Derek and Stiles’ dad scream.

“What? I do!” He points at Derek. “And it’s not like you said no.”

Derek ducks his head down, the tip of his ears going red. Hah, he likes having sex on the couch too. Stiles grins.

“I’m too old for this.” His dad complains, running a hand through his hair. “Give me my granddaughter.” He gestures for Mia and Derek passes her quickly. Stiles always found adorable how even after ten years Derek is still scared of Stiles’ dad.

Mia laughs as her grandfather tickles her and they all stare at her, amazed.

“Bring her back by six!” Stiles yells at his father’s retreating back, waving as Mia smiles at him.

“Seven!” He screams back. “So you learn not to have sex where your daughter can see!”

“She’s ten months, she doesn’t even know what a blow-” Derek clasps a hand over his mouth.

“Just stop talking, please.” He mutters, watches as Stiles’ dad drives off and then heads back inside. To do laundry probably, Stiles frowns, Derek loves being all domestic when they’re baby-free.

Such a wasted time.

“We need to start locking the door.” He says, following Derek into the kitchen.

“We need to stop having sex on the couch.”

Stiles throws his hands up. “Ah, come on. Not you too!”

“We do have a baby, Stiles.” Derek says, collecting the toys they had laid out for Mia to play while they were in the kitchen. “We have to be more careful.”

“But I like having sex on the couch.” Stiles says. “I like being able to touch you all the time.”

“But you do–”

“We spent a long time not being able to do that.” He still remembers the two years away, Derek in New York and Stiles calling him at night, pretending he just wanted to ask about a book or if Derek would buy him a Mets jersey. He remembers missing Derek like crazy, going to New York just to see him and then spending the entire weekend trying not to give away his feelings.

Mostly, he remembers Derek kissing him on his last night there, remembers the feeling of finally being able to be with him, to run a hand over his hair and drop a kiss on his shoulder just because. He remembers Derek promising they’d be together forever.

“Stiles,” Derek says, kissing the top of his head, “I love you. That’s never going to change. But I also love our daughter and I’d rather not answer to sex questions before she’s at least thirteen.”

Despite himself, Stiles snorts, slumping against Derek’s chest. “Fine. No sex on the couch or the kitchen table. Forever. This is so unfair.”

“Well, you know she’ll move out eventually, right?” Derek asks.

The thought of his adorable baby girl growing up and going to college or even getting married is not something Stiles is prepared to deal with now. “Hey! One problem at a time!” Derek snorts, pulling Stiles in for a kiss.

“Come on, we can still have sex in our bed.”

Stiles grins, forgetting about Mia and his dad and everything else as Derek begins to unbutton his shirt. “I like the way you think.”

In the end it doesn’t really matter if it’s on the couch or the bed, as long as Stiles has Derek, the location is only a detail.

Some Things Are Meant to Be

NurseyDex, 7100 words, Rated Teen, AU, Fake Relationship, Meet Cute, Wedding, Fluff (here on AO3)


“You want another one?” Will yelled, and Chris made some sort of loud, affirmative noise from the living room.

Will took a second beer from the fridge, balancing both in one hand while he grabbed a container of guac with the other. He slammed the fridge door shut with his hip but misjudged the necessary force, and several papers affixed to the front floated to the ground.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He set everything on the counter and crouched down, picking up the notice about his rent going up, his reminder card for his dentist appointment yesterday, and—shit.

Will plopped down on his ass, staring down in horror at the piece of heavy cardstock in his hand. Goddamn, he can’t believe that he forgot.

“Hey, what happened to that—shit. What’s wrong? What’s that?”

Will looked up at Chris, who circled the breakfast bar and sat down in front of him. He vaguely waved the paper. “An invitation. To my ex’s wedding. It’s…it was hidden on my fridge. I forgot about it.”

“Do you still love her or something? Is this an existential crisis type of situation?”

Will rolled his eyes. “No, definitely not. But I said I was bringing someone, back when I got the invitation, and I totally forgot. It’s on Saturday.”

“And you don’t wanna go alone?”

Will made a face. “Not after I RSVP’d with a plus-one. She’s still an ex, you know? Not that you would know anything about that,” he added dryly, and Chris grinned.

“You’re just jealous of me and Cait.”

“True,” Will murmured. He stared down at the invitation and sighed. “I guess I could text her and pretend to be sick or something.”

“No, you can’t do that!” Chris plucked the invitation from his hand. “Just pretend to be dating someone and bring them.”

Will lifted his eyebrows at him. “Uh, that’s not an actual thing that people do.”

“You don’t know that!” Chris protested, and Will snorted.

“Oh, yeah? And where exactly am I supposed to find a fake boyfriend?”

Chris grinned. “So I have this friend from college.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Yeah, and I bet he’ll do it. He’d totally be down for something like this. Here, I’ll text him right now,” he said, raising his voice over the sound of Will’s seemingly-fruitless protests. He dug his phone out of his back pocket and spoke slowly as he typed. “Hey dude, you wanna pretend to be the boyfriend of my friend from work for a wedding? Saturday night.”

Will groaned, bracing his elbows on his knees as he buried his head in his hands. “Chris, you can’t just—”

“He said yes,” Chris reported, staring down at his phone, and Will’s jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?”

He scooted around to sit next to Chris, who helpfully tilted his phone so Will could see the message. Sure. He cute?

Very, Chris wrote back, and Will grimaced. “Don’t—don’t oversell it, jeez.”

“You’re super hot, Will, deal with it.”

“Is he cute?”

“Very,” Chris repeated, and Will snorted. “I’m giving him your number. His name’s Derek, by the way.”

Will sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I have a feeling that I’m going to regret this.”

“Worst case scenario, you’ll have a great story to tell.” Chris got to his feet and held a hand out to Will to haul him up. “Grab those beers, third period’s about to start.”


Hey, sugarplum.

I don’t think I could keep a straight face if someone called me sugarplum in public.

Ok, strike that one from the list. Lovebug?

Just my name is fine. Which is Will.

And this whole thing was Chris’s idea, btw.

Oh, I have no doubt.

I just wanted to feign illness.

But this will be way more fun!

Yeah? You pretend to be people’s boyfriend often?

Nah, you’re popping my cherry.

Honeybear.

Ok, what did I say about that.

This is gonna be fun. So where’s this wedding? Saturday, right?

Yeah. Brooklyn Botanic Garden

Ooh nice. Dress code?

Suit, no tux. Should we meet up beforehand?

You know that random bar/bakery @ Union/Franklin? Wanna meet there?

Great. 6:30?

Awesome. See you then, studmuffin.

Keep reading

insult sentence starters
  • “You’re the walking personification of a fart.”
  • “Can you do me a favor? Just…stop breathing.”
  • “You uncultured swine.”
  • “Wow, look what the cat dragged in…”
  • “You’re about as useful as an expired coupon.”
  • “Who let you in here?”
  • “And here, ladies and gentlemen, we have the world’s biggest turd.”
  • “Please, shut up. Shut – stop talking. I’m going to kill you.”
  • “Have you ever thought about why no one likes you?”
  • “When I see you, all I think is ‘uuuugh’.”
  • “Shh. Stupid people shouldn’t talk.”
  • “Wanna know why I’m sitting? It’s because I can’t STAND you.”
  • “I hope you choke. Okay, no I don’t, that’s a little extreme. But leave!”
  • “Were you raised by wolves?”
  • “[text] [img attached: garbage can] i found your twin”
  • “How can you see when your head’s so far up your ass?”
  • “If I had a time machine, I’d make sure that you were never born.”
  • “Can do you something right for a change?”
  • “Be quiet. Forever.”
  • “Hey, could you get a little lower? No, lower. Six feet under.”
  • “Your mother breeds like a hamster and your father smells of elderberries.”
  • “If I could, I’d recreate the pie scene from The Help.”
  • “You’re dumber than a pole.”
  • “I hate your face.”
  • “You look awful. Like always.”
  • “I hate you more than I hate myself.”
  • “Think of it like this: I’m Beyonce. You’re Iggy Azalea.”
  • “Hey, jackass. I see you’re more jackass-y than usual today.”
  • “I see that they’ll let just anybody in here…”
  • “Where’s your warning label?”
  • “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I’m just better than you in every way.”
  • “Does your mother ever reflect on her mistakes? Mistakes like you.”
This one time... at band camp...

A freshman clarinet (in band we refer to human beings by the instrument they play) got caught off-guard by her period. I guess none of the other girls had spare supplies, and she couldn’t track down her parents. Somehow- despite the warnings from other clarinets that she’d probably get shouted out the door for daring to bother him with this- she went to our band director for help. Our very grumpy, 45-year-old, childless, never-married, male band director.

She peeped, “So, um, I started my-”

And then he was like: “AUGGggh I don’t need to know! It’s fine, kid. I’ll… I’ll take care of it, just… please stop talking.”

He drove to the 7-11 next door in his golf cart and bought a veritable variety pack of feminine products, just to cover his bases; and painkillers; and Gatorade because fluids are always good, right? And chocolate, to… appease the estrogen goddesses or something. All of this out of his own pocket. He then had a senior flute take the stuff in the girls’ bathroom, leave it there, and quietly go inform the freshie in need. That way she wouldn’t be singled out by other kids for receiving all this stuff.

I only know who this unfortunate freshie was, because a few years later she was able to laugh about it and tell most of the girls in the band. We never brought it up with the director again, obviously. But we all loved the story because, knowing our band director- and our entire band’s culture- we did not see that coming.

It was Sparta, okay. We were 120+ members and competing in the toughest regional competitions. Band camp was 6 hours a day, 5 days a week even in the dead heat of August, and continued to consume evenings and weekends through the end of November. The assistant director on drills was a Korean war vet who could’ve been dropped onto our high school football field straight out of Full Metal Jacket. The lead director’s disciplinary style was more subdued but just as scary: usually, he’d just glower us all into submission.

This mousy, 98-pound, 15-year-old girl had expected a Death Glare that would turn her into a smudge of ash on the band room carpet, just for having a uterus and a forgetful moment. But instead- in his own huffy, taciturn way- our Fearsome Leader took care of her. Like Bigfoot cradling a little duckling in his giant, hairy hands, it was a sweet gesture that makes you rethink how “scary” the big guy is… but also makes you giggle.