pool shit

our little family pt.4 | jimin

Originally posted by bwiseoks

Pairing: Father! Jimin + Reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst + parent au

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: You were just a pre-school teacher, a simple dream that came true as you always adored children. But what you didn’t know, was how one child and her very special father would change you dream forever.

Parts: 1 2 3 4


Reader’s POV

Readjusting your hat on your head, you rested a hand on your hip before wiping away the sweat that trickled down the side of you face. Who would’ve known that the day you had planned a field trip for the kids was the day of the record highest temperature your city had seen in the last decade.

Clearly you didn’t, because here you were with twenty sweaty, hungry and excited children all screaming and attacking you at once.

“Ms.L/N! Ms.L/N?! MS.L/N~” the children yelled, snapping you out of your trance, the heat making your head spin.

Looking down at the two children tugging at your skirt, they pointed towards the playground nearby and begged, “Can we all go play at the playground over there Ms.L/N? Please~” as they continued to put on their puppy faces, knowing well enough how irresistible they were to you.

Sighing, you nodded and immediately after, the rest of the children followed the two, running towards the playground and attacking the swings, slides and see-saws with all their might.

“Be careful! And don’t figh- Minjae-ah! Get off Eunhae!” you yelled in exasperation, picking up your bag and trudging your way to the playground ahead. Finding a spot in the shade, under a big tree, you set down your stuff on the bench beside it. 

Taking a walk around, you made sure all your kids were playing together, none of them hurting one another or themselves, at the least.

After you finished breaking up a fight over the sandbox, got a screaming kid off the monkey bars who was too afraid to let go and trying your hardest to calm down a crying child who accidentally stepped on an ant and killed it, you went to sit under a large oak tree, wanting to be away from the blinding sun.

Why are children so difficult to handle?  you helplessly thought to yourself as you momentarily laid back against the tree trunk, your eyes fluttering close.

Just then you felt something wet stain your arm.

As you peeked your eyes open, you looked up to see a crow sitting on a branch as it blinked at you, making you slowly look down to your right arm.

“You did not.” you gasped as you looked back up at the crow and down at the large pool of shit it left on your arm.

After blinking at your for a bit, almost mockingly, it flew away making you mutter a couple words you knew you shouldn’t have said with all these children around.

As you made your way to the bench where all your stuff were, you pulled out your water bottle and washed the sticky mess from your arm. Casually looking around the playground, you started to make a mental count of all your kids, when suddenly your eyes went wide.

It was as if it all happened in slow motion.

Keep reading

my OTP on their 1st date aka 

Alec “I’m an archer boy so i could win every fucking pool game in 1 go but i don’t wanna see my bf sad so i pretend i suck” Lightwood  &                 Magnus “don’t you think that just bc we’re on a date i can’t hustle the shit out of my bf” Bane

Summary: What happens when Jon and Sansa break up - Multiple POVs [inspired by this amazing Bellarke fic]

– warning: mature language – 


For the most part, Arya doesn’t like to involve herself in her siblings’ lives. What they do and who they do are none of her business and she likes to keep it that way. It’s all in a vain hope that they’ll return the courtesy but of course that never happens. The Starks are entirely too involved in each other’s lives, especially Robb, who thinks it’s his duty to order them around just because he’s the oldest. But Arya still tries to keep her life to herself and she actively avoids any and all discussions of her siblings’ love lives. It frankly does not interest her in the least.

So when she finds herself coming home early from hanging out with Gendry and the boys, the last thing she wants to witness is Jon and Sansa fighting. They always bicker every now and then – the problem with opposites dating, she supposes – but this feels different, wrong. And Arya is definitely intruding, only she can’t find it in herself to leave. Call it morbid curiosity.

“You went to Petyr, Sansa, don’t you get that!” Jon yells. “You went to him instead of me!”

“I was trying to help! And it’s not like you were even listening to me. You keep doing this. You keep shutting me out!” Sansa’s shrill voice echoes in the empty house, so laced with hurt that Arya has to suck in a breath.

“So it’s my fault now?” Jon snaps back. “I told you I had it figured out! I had everything under control and then you – you went to fucking Petyr! Petyr, Sansa!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have if you had just trusted me from the start! But you never have. You always try to shoulder everything yourself and you never let me in.” Sansa’s voice breaks and Arya can imagine her sister so clearly now, red-faced and cheeks splotchy with tears. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me, Jon. I can’t do this. It hurts too much.”

There’s a moment of silence before, “so that’s it? You’re giving up on us? That’s really it?”

“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare say that I didn’t put everything into this relationship, Jon Snow!”

“Then what, Sansa! Why are you doing this! We fight! This is what we do!” Jon shouts, sounding more and more desperate with each word. It’s unnerving for Arya to hear him like this. Jon’s always been her hero, the person she could depend on to save the day, to always know what to do, but here in this moment, he sounds so small, so lost.

“Maybe it’s not what I want to do anymore! I’m tired of fighting with you. I’m tired of trying when you won’t let me in,” Sansa says but the fight is gone from her voice too.

“I let you in…” But there’s doubt in his voice and even Arya knows he’s lying. More quietly, Jon says, “so that’s it, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The door leading to the kitchen clicks shut, loud and final even from where Arya is hiding, and then she hears Jon’s heavy exhalation before footsteps lead up the stairs. She doesn’t know what just happened or what they were even fighting about but this feels wrong. Everything about this feels so wrong.


It’s a bit selfish that Tormund is more upset that he won’t get to see Brienne anymore than he is about his friend’s breakup but it’s not like Jon will let him comfort him either. Nor would Tormund even know how to. He’s not really a relationship kind of guy and breakups are completely beyond his understanding. The only thing he can really focus on is how Brienne won’t come around anymore because Sansa won’t come around and that really bloody sucks. He’s kind of grown attached to the woman. There’s something so fierce in the way her gaze flickers around the room, noting everything with calculated precision as if she’s eyeing her best escape routes. It’s weird, sure, but it’s hot as all hell.

He hoped at first that Jon and Sansa would reconcile by the end of the first week. It just didn’t seem possible for those two to stay away from each other for longer than that. They were both stupidly loyal to one another and stupidly in love that on occasion Tormund had walked into a room to see them cuddling only to walk straight out again. But a month has passed and it doesn’t look like they’re getting back together. This is probably it for them. It’s a shame too because he really did like Sansa. She was good for Jon. She made him less of a moody prick.

– which was why when he spots Brienne in a cafe sitting alone in a booth, he instantly sidles along the vinyl seat across from her. She looks up from her book, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips.

“Miss me?” he asks, unable to keep his eyes from appraising her. She’s in a plain beige jumper and dark jeans. Her short cropped blonde hair is messy and falls a little over her forehead. Adorable.

“Don’t you have other friends, Tormund?”

His eyes light up and she realises her mistake instantly. “So we are friends!”

“By proximity,” Brienne snaps irritably. “But now we don’t have to be so go away.”

“We could be again,” he says easily, leaning back and smiling broadly. “I don’t know about your side but Jon’s still hopelessly in love with Sansa. It’s pretty obvious. Man is pathetic.”

There’s a flash of hope then amusement before Brienne schools her features into that impassive mask she always wears. “It’s not our business to meddle.”

“But if they’re both miserable without the other, isn’t it? As friends?”

“I… guess…” Brienne looks thoughtful and then she sighs. “Sansa’s lost weight.”

“Um… congrats?”

“No, you numpty, she’s not eating properly, she’s not sleeping. If I don’t force her every morning to get out of bed, she might not even do that.” Brienne runs her fingers through her hair and Tormund desperately wants to do the same, see if it’s as soft as it looks. “Do you even know what they were fighting about?”

Tormund abruptly sobers up at that and shakes his head. “Every time I ask, Jon just shouts at me so no. Haven’t got a bloody clue.”


“So she’s really a mess without him?” Tormund asks, aware of how this knowledge makes him ache a little because he really did like Sansa. A lot.

“Yeah, and Jon?”

“Hopeless,” he answers easily. “Pathetic. More of a grumpy cunt than ever before.”

Brienne laughs, looks surprised that she did, and shakes her head. It’s adorable. So fucking adorable that Tormund has to hold himself back from just reaching across the table to kiss her. He can do that later. They have friends they need to sort out first.


At sixteen, Rickon is the youngest of the Starks and he’s more than aware that he is because none of his siblings ever lets him forget it. It was nice at first, to be coddled and spoiled by his siblings and parents, but he’s sixteen now. That means he’s almost an adult – not that that means shit to his family. It’s why Rickon spends so much of his time outdoors with his friends. Anything to stay away from the manor and keep active.

But Sansa is home for a week and he can’t help lingering around her. She’s always been his favourite. Sure, he gets along with all of his siblings but Sansa just gets him. She’s always been there for him, a calming presence in his life, and now that she’s home, he just wants to spend all of his time with her. But she’s different. Her smile never quite reaches her eyes and there’s a slowness to her movements like she’s treading against the current. It’s hard to look at her and see the sister he loves so dearly so broken. It makes him hate Jon because Rickon knows this is his fault. He broke his sister’s heart and Rickon’s not sure if he could ever forgive Jon for that.

When Rickon enters the lounge, Sansa is sitting curled up against one end of the sofa with a blanket cocooned around her. She looks so tiny. He hates seeing her like this so in spite of being sixteen and almost a man with a reputation to uphold, he drops on the sofa and curl into her like he was six again.

“Hey,” Sansa chuckles softly as she wraps an arm around him. He’s getting too tall for this but he doesn’t care. His sister is hurting and he needs to help. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Rickon hums, resting his head against her shoulder. “You don’t come home that much anymore.”

Sansa’s face falls. “I know. I’m sorry. Work is crazy and I promise I’ll –”

“Sans, it’s alright,” he says, feeling bad for making her feel bad. “I was just observing. Are your shifts really bad?”

“No, it’s… I’m in pediatrics right now and that’s really nice,” she says but he heard her, that falter at the beginning. He knows what she’s thinking without having to ask because he may hate Jon right now but Sansa loved him with everything she had. He’s not a particularly romantic teenager. He’s still in that stage where all he can notice about a girl are her boobs, which he knows distantly is really horrible because he has two headstrong sisters who would kill him if they knew that’s how he’s been reducing the girls in his class to but his hormones are out of whack and it’s honestly hard to focus on much else right now. So yeah, romance is completely not on his radar at all but he’s not stupid. Jon and Sansa dated for years and they’ve probably loved each other for longer. Everyone could tell. When they looked at each other, it was like they were seeing the sun for the first time or the ocean or whatever that makes people that blindingly besotted. A part of him is glad Sansa at least found that kind of love in her lifetime but he’s also angry on her behalf that she lost it too. She deserves the world.

“Is that where you want to be?” Rickon asks after realising he’s been silent for too long.

Sansa shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She turns her head to look at him. “You don’t have to check up on me. I’m… managing.”

Of course his sister knows exactly what he’s doing. She always could read him. Rickon sighs. “Are you?”

She’s quiet for a long while that it makes Rickon a bit antsy. “No,” she finally whispers softly, heartbreakingly anguished. “No, I’m not.”

Rickon nods, not knowing what else to say. He shifts so he can wrap his arms around his sister. “You will be though.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs before falling asleep a few minutes later, and in that moment, Rickon decides that love sucks.


As soon as she enters the pub, she’s assaulted by a loud raucous shout from the corner where a group of burly men are watching the football. Ygritte rolls her eyes and continues forward until she spots him slumped at a lone table, gripping onto his pint like it’s his lifeline. She walks forward, dodging the stumbling drunks, and drops into the seat across from him.

“When the bartender calls your ex-girlfriend to come and drag you home then that’s a sign that your life is really bloody pathetic,” she says, mild, watching him curiously. “What the fuck is up with you?”

Jon snorts, lifts his eyes to glance at her and then looks back down at his pint. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” she tells him. “You’re the farthest thing from fine.”

“Go home, Ygritte,” he says, sounding exasperated, but he’s also scowling at his pint so it’s really hard to get a read on his emotional state right now. She just knows he’s clearly not fine and he hasn’t been for two months.

“Not without you so either come now or you can finish your pint and tell me what’s really going on.” But she already knows what’s going on. Everyone bloody knows and it’s really honestly the last thing she wants to do right now because listening to her ex-boyfriend talk about his other ex-girlfriend is not exactly fun for her. But it’s also been years since Jon and her broke up so it’s not like she’s jealous or hurting still. She just really hates talking about emotional shit.

“I…” Jon starts, and for a second, Ygritte thinks she’s going to have to beat the truth out of him, but he sighs again. “I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure you did. So what happened?”

He flashes her a scowl before it falters and then he just looks broken. “I kept pushing her away. I knew I was doing it too. That’s the fucked up thing, right? I knew I was pushing her out and I still did it.”

“You did that with me too,” Ygritte says gently, which isn’t really a state of being that she’s used to but there’s something wild about the way Jon looks right now, like if she said the wrong thing, he’d bolt.

He smiles faintly. “I know.”

“You want to hear my theory?” she hedges because why the hell not? There’s no guarantee he’ll even remember this in the morning.

“Yeah, why not?”

Ygritte snorts. “You’re scared she’ll leave you anyways. I mean it’s understandable, sort of. You grew up knowing your father wanted nothing to do with you and your mum, and then your mum dies when you’re fourteen. You’ve had to do everything on your own. So letting someone else into your life, having them play a major part in your decisions and shit, yeah, that frightens you, Jon. You don’t want to go through all of that again.”

“Huh,” he says, studying her quietly. “When did you get so smart?” He flourishes his hands around, nearly knocking the pint off of the table.

“I’ve always been smarter than you,” Ygritte says, pulling the pint towards the centre just in case. “It’s not really hard to be smarter than you. You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

He laughs but there’s no real humour in it. “I miss her,” Jon says quietly, thumping his forehead down. “I miss her so fucking much, Ygritte. She’s… She’s Sansa.” He suddenly sits bolt upright, staring wide-eyed at her. “Oh. Oh. I shouldn’t say that to you, right? You’re my ex!”

“Jon, we dated when we were seventeen,” she laughs loudly. “I’m fairly sure I’m over you.”

“Right… of course,” he nods gravely. “Then yeah, I bloody miss her. It’s like… With her, everything finally made sense. You know? And I fucked it all up. She thinks I don’t trust her but she’s the only opinion that matters.”

“Fucking hell, Jon, then go tell her!” Ygritte snaps.

Okay, she is over him and she really doesn’t want to date Jon ever again but she can’t help the spark of irrational jealousy. She’s fine on her own, she really is, because she has a great job she loves, friends she loves and she’s independent. She likes being alone. But the fact she can’t ever imagine someone loving her as much as Jon loves Sansa kind of stings a little. It’s stupid and totally irrational because she’s awesome. Why wouldn’t someone love her? Right?

Jon nods and jumps to his feet, swaying and nearly toppling into the next table. Ygritte sighs, standing up too. “Okay, lover boy, maybe tomorrow. Let’s get you home to sleep this off first.”


Sansa is her best friend, the greatest person she knows, but holy shit is her friend also dense as a fucking log. It’s the only reason why she would willingly go out on a date when she’s still so clearly, pathetically in love with Jon. She’s not ready to move on – nor does Jeyne think she should because those two are the real deal – and this date is a supremely bad idea. But does she listen? No, of course Princess Sansa bloody Stark won’t listen to Jeyne.

It’s why she can justifiably march over to Jon’s flat and demand he go win her best friend back because four months is four months too bloody long for them to go without each other. It’s not that she’s worried Sansa’s going to have such an amazing date she’ll forget about Jon because that is laughable, but it’s the fact that Sansa is so desperate right now to feel anything that she would conceivably date someone to just forget how much she’s hurting.

The door peels open a couple seconds after Jeyne starts pounding on the frame. Jon is standing there in ratty sweats and a thin shirt with holes at the collar. He looks like a really handsome homeless man. “Jeyne?” he squints at her. “What – is Sansa okay?” His eyes suddenly widen and every muscle in his body tenses simultaneously like he’s readying himself to go to battle. Jeyne rolls her eyes. At least now she knows they’re both equally as pathetic as each other.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s healthy, ten toes, ten fingers,” Jeyne tells him and watches smugly as he visibly deflates.

“So what… um, what are you doing here?”

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” she begins quickly. “There’s no easy way to say this. Sansa’s going on a date. Tonight.”

Jon’s face wilts, dying right before her eyes, and it pains her so despairingly she reaches out to grab a hold of his hand. “Her heart’s not in it, Jon,” Jeyne assures him. “She still loves you. But you need to… You need to show her you still love her too.”

“Of course I still love her,” he replies forcefully. “But that wasn’t our problem. If she wants to… If this is what she needs then she should do it.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Jeyne throws her hands up in the air. “You’re both so dumb!”


“No, stop it, you are!” she shouts. “I’m so sick and tired of both of you pining away for each other instead of just talking like bloody adults. Put on some shoes and go out and fight for her. This cowardly thing you’re doing,” she gestures to his whole body, “is not you.”

Jon rubs his chin with one hand. “She deserves better than me.”

“Yeah, probably,” Jeyne bites out because she’s pissed off and he deserves that for being so obtuse. “But she chose you. All she needs is some indication that you still want her too.”

“Yeah… I, um… I have to go. It’s nice seeing you again, Jeyne.”

She’s going to kill him. She’s going to kill him then kill Sansa. She’s going to kill them both before they put her in an early grave.


The thing is Robb had a plan. It was a very intricate plan to get Jon and Sansa back together because over four months with those miserable sods was just beginning to grate on everyone’s nerves. He was going to invite them both to the Stark cabin in the Lake District and lock them in there together for a whole weekend. It was going to be super romantic and brilliant and then they’d both owe him for the rest of their lives. Their firstborn would be named Robb Junior. It was all going to be awesome.

So of course as most of Robb’s plans goes, it completely falls apart when he goes to visit Jon at the fire brigade station and he realises that not only is his best friend not alone but his baby sister is there with him. He thinks about ducking out but he’s also too curious for his own good at times.

“You’re okay,” Sansa breathes out and the relief on her face is so palpable Robb instinctively sighs with her even though he really has no idea what’s going on.

“What are you doing here?” Jon’s voice is hesitant, wary even, but Robb’s known the man since he was five years old and his best friend is practically bursting with being able to see her again.

“Edd texted me. He…” Her voice breaks and she muffles a sob behind her palm. Jon’s instantly at her side, gripping her shoulders, as the tears rush down from her face. “He said you were in the hospital. That you got hurt in a house fire.”

Understanding rushes over both Jon and him. His best friend smiles softly. “I’m okay, Sans. Look at me, I’m here. It wasn’t anything. They just wanted to check me over but I only have a couple bruised ribs. Nothing serious.”

She nods and then without warning, she punches him in the shoulder. Even Robb has to wince from where he’s standing. “You asshole!”

“What?” Jon looks affronted and he steps back instinctively from his raging sister. Robb’s a little proud of her.

Four months, Jon,” she yells at him. “I haven’t seen you in four months and it takes your coworker texting me that you’re in the hospital to bring us together? Do you know how stupid that is?”

“Yeah,” Jon mumbles, looking at the ground.

“Yeah,” Sansa repeats, the anger suddenly leaving her, and now she just looks young and vulnerable. Like when she was a gangly ten-year-old and crashed her bike and Robb had to carry her home. He had been so worried then, every whimper of pain a piercing stab into his own body, and he feels that way now. But he can’t carry her pain now any more than he could then.

“I should – I’ll leave you alone then.” Sansa turns to leave but Jon immediately grabs her wrist and pulls her back.

“Don’t. Sans, please,” he says softly, almost too softly for Robb to hear. “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Sansa isn’t looking at him and she doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry. You were right. I did push you away. As soon as I found out they were going to charge me with assault, I should’ve come to you. You shouldn’t have had to find out from Petyr to begin with. But even though I knew they had no evidence against me, I just didn’t want you to see me like that… It’s hard for me to let people in,” Jon admits, his hand still wrapped around Sansa’s wrist. “But it’s harder to not be with you.”

“We can’t do this if you don’t trust me, Jon.”

He tugs her again so she has to look at him. “I do trust you. I always have. I just didn’t trust myself not to screw it up.”

His sister laughs a little. “You’re a grumpy idiot.”

“I know that,” Jon laughs too. “Robb tells me everyday.”

Robb smiles because that’s true. He totally does. Who else would if not for him?

The silence stretches on for a long while as the two stand there staring at each other. “I missed you too,” Sansa eventually says. “But I can’t do this if you’re not sure, Jon. I can’t go through all of this again. You broke my heart.”

“I know, I know.” Jon rushes forward so he’s cradling her face in his hands. “And I’m in this completely. I want this. I want you. Sans, you have to know you’re it for me.”

“Yeah?” she asks, the insecurity so audible there Robb has to bite his tongue to keep from jumping in to rally for his sister. But as Jon rests his forehead against hers, Robb realises he doesn’t need to.

“Yeah,” Jon answers. “There’s never been anyone else.”

“So we’re doing this again?”

“If you’ll have me,” he says, pulling back to look at her. She smiles and it’s this inexplicable brightness that makes her seem so breathtakingly ephemeral Robb is a little floored by this side of his sister. Jon kisses her then, at first slow and sweet, but that soon gives out to something more desperate and needy, with hands carding and tugging through hair and pulling at clothes. Robb immediately turns around because like hell is he going to stand there and watch his best friend and his baby sister fuck right there on the floor. For his very delicate sensibilities, both his sisters are still virgins and Robb would like to continue to believe that for the foreseeable future.

Before he completely exits the station though, he hears Sansa one last time.

“You’re it for me too.”


Mitch plans a one week trip to Paris.
Scott doesn’t feel like going out of USA.
Mitch goes to Paris.
Scott has a house party and posts a picture with captions in French.
(Let the good times roll)
Mitch goes to Fashion week day in day out. Glamming it up!
Scott attends more parties and has a slutty, I mean, GREAT time.
Mitch explores Paris doing tourist-y things.
Mitch gets a tattoo that says “pain” in French.

And that’s what you missed on Glee.


here are the anime trash cards i made! 

i don’t even know wtf “‘hon hon my baguette” is supposed to mean i just thought of it and threw shit together

happy v-day my children and have fun weaboo-ing ur valentine’s up

heyo it's a me

please like-reblog if you post/reblog any of these!! i’m trying to find a lot of other fellow blogs out there who like some of the same stuff as me:))

- Panic! at the disco
- Tom Holland
- Sebastian Stan
- Older movies (80s ish)
- Star wars
- Gwen Poole
- Spider-gwen
- pretty sunsets (okay idk what to put for that so yeah)
- the outsiders (i still love them dearly)
- movie reccomendations
- tutorials of any kind i need them
- steve rogers
- comics literally yes
- good books
- especially PJO and HoO
- just funny shit posts

Rules Of The Shance Betting Pool- by Founder, Pidge Holt.

(A companion thing to A Blue CatAstrophe.)
Rule #1. Any and all developments must be photographed to make the betting fair.
Rule #2. Lance and Shiro cannot under any circumstances learn about the Betting Pool. Lance is devious when it comes to revenge and I don’t want to deal with Shiro’s blubbering denial and Disappointed Disapproving Dad Face™.
Rule #3. Bets can only be changed either once a week or when proof of developing affection occurs.
Rule #4. You can influence them a little bit, but nobody can interfere with them getting together. As much as I hate to say this, they have to do it on their own. That means no shoving them into each other during training, Keith. (Keith whistles innocently)
Rule #5. IOU’s are not acceptable unless it’s a chore trade.
Rule #6. Nobody mentions anything about the SBP outside of the meeting room. I don’t want to risk them hearing something they shouldn’t.
Rule #7. Teasing is acceptable and will not be counted as influencing.
Rule #8. Do NOT get caught photographing evidence unless you can smoothly lie your way out!
Rule #9. Nobody says a WORD to Black or Blue about this. Black would tell Shiro in a heartbeat and Blue is overprotective enough, especially when it comes to Lance’s emotions. That goes for our Lions too.
Rule #10. All bets and changes are filed away in Coran’s tablet. So no liars or takebacks, all bets are final!

ok so i take these classes w a bunch of showoffs who do a lot ofparkour/tricking/gymnastics/acrobatic-style bullshit and i genuinely believe Percy would do half this shit as well as other demigods so here is this fuckery

  • Percy has a natural affinity for it
  • by affinity i mean the water god in him makes things easier to jump/scale like it would be in a pool bc buoyancy science shit
  • so he can get pretty good air without a spring floor
  • but CHB has one bc u cant tell me Chiron would say it is useless (it isn’t. that shit makes u strong)
  • Percy could do a standing front tuck since he was 13
  • boy did arials and arabians like it was NOTHING
  • he goes back to high school n in the middle of gym some dipshit is goin hard and Percy just does a fuckin webster and chucks the dodgeball at him, pointing as him as his team lOSES THEIR SHIT
  • nobody knew Percy could do that
  • panties dropped, dicks were hard
  • boy does layout variations of stuff
  • his senior prank is getting a bunch of gymnast friends and just doing shit down the hallways
  • roundoff back handsprings
  • full outs
  • Percy one time does a back tuck off of lockers because a guy said he wouldn’t and Percy doesn’t play with that shit
  • nobody saw Annabeth do any until she busts into English doing back handsprings around the room because fuck you this is Annabeth Chase

feel free to add

i need a bechloe rent!au where beca is the ivy league “anal retentive” lawyer while chloe is the starving “ambitious af” performance artist. where they fall in love, get engaged, fight during the engagement party; in front of the bohemians(the bellas obv), but work through their problems and get back together on halloween

Feeling some kinda way this morning, after a full night of work. Oh, your initiation had you sleep on the floor for a week? You couldn’t leave where you were at and you had no privacy? You got some taboos? You can’t drink water any time you want? You gotta pray on your knees? IT’S HOT OUT?

*cackles in vodou*

Everybody wanna have a title, ain’t nobody wanna earn it.

Honestly, witches who look down on other witches who are concerned with social issues can fuck right off. Turning our backs on those in need seems so contradictory to what being a witch is about. We’re full of magic and energies that come from the world around us. Ignoring things like the political chaos, the violence, the hatred, and the death that affect those energies is like playing in a pool full of shit and thinking it’s pure water. Sure, not every action we take is going to be mountain-moving but it helps. Like a trickle of water, it wears away at the mountain. We have things we can contribute to the common good, and we need to contribute. We’re all affected, and all obligated in some fashion. 


Request: I had a request for Bucky where they are like bff’s and are pining after each other and one of their feelings accidentally gets hurt but eventually they get together. @kmwiinchester

Word Count: 1,669

A/N: I hope this is close to what you were looking for! I think I got a bit carried away, but I like how this one turned out.

Originally posted by enochianess

“You can’t aim for shit.”

“If you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to shove this cue up your-“

“Alright, kids. Play nice.” Steve’s shadow fell over the pool table, effectively blocking your view. You glared up at him, brow quirked. He stepped back with his hands up in a defensive position. He knew how you and Bucky were when it came to pool and he wasn’t about to get in the way of that. It was a serious game for serious people, and you were one striped ball away from winning fifty bucks. Steve watched you with his arms crossed, eyes flickering between you and Bucky.

You were fairly good at pool, and an even better hustler. You and Bucky actually made a good team- he was big and buff, and every time the two of you went to bars he was the first one at the table being challenged by other guys who were big and buff. Then you swooped in and pretended to be a cute little princess, when in reality you could kill every single one of them with a cue ball if you wanted to. You and Bucky won tons of money from hustling bikers, much to Steve’s chagrin. What could you say, you had skill. You could hit any ball from any angle into any hole on the first try. It was no contest who would win, but dammit if whoever you were playing against didn’t try.

Bucky, on the other hand, was a little shit and a dirty cheat.

You held the cue between your fingers, aiming the white ball to hit a shiny red one when you felt something graze along your sides. Your body stiffened and you tried to ignore the feeling of Bucky’s fingers gliding over your ribs. He was trying to distract you and Goddamn was it working. He was aiming for a tickle, something to make you jump, but you just wanted to lean into it. Your heart was in your throat, thumping loudly against your skull, and it had very little to do with the very important shot you were about to take.

Okay, sure. Bucky was your best friend, and that’s all he’d ever been, but you’d be lying if you said you never thought of him throwing you on the pool table and-

“Don’t miss.” His breath was hot on your ear and your eyes closed involuntarily, teeth gritting and hands tightening around the cue. You shot him a look and he chuckled, taking half a step back. Your shoulders squared and you tried to focus again, but he was still too damn close. This hadn’t happened before- not once. But, then again, you weren’t usually playing against him. He usually stood on the other side of the table and cheered you on, not standing at your side to taunt you.

“Bucky, I swear to God,” you threatened, tongue between your teeth.

“I didn’t do anything,” he defended. “Just try not to suck.”

“I hate you.” You rolled your eyes, adjusting your footing and shrugging a stiff shoulder. It was taking an unusually long time for you to hit the ball, and Bucky seemed to sense it. He backed off, rounding the table toward the bar. Steve was already leaning on it by now, a drink of (rather useless, really) scotch in hand. Bucky went to getting one of his own and you stood up fully. Now that the haze of having Bucky right at your side was gone, it became easier to focus. You went to fixing your shot, eaves dropping on the boys.

“You two are really needling each other today,” Steve noted. “You fight like an old married couple.”

Bucky grimaced as he took a swallow from his glass, but not because of its contents. “Not even. I’d die before I let myself marry her.”

“Ouch,” Steve laughed. “Looks like you two are well on your way, if you ask me. I keep waiting for you to pull a fast one.”

You were bent over the table again, frozen while you listened. You were staring forward at the cue ball, but your attention was on them. Your head tilted down, eyes dropping to the green surface just in front of your face. “No chance in hell,” Bucky was saying. You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing what it meant. “I’d rather the Hulk sat on me.”

“That’s harsh.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

“You started it.” Bucky jabbed Steve with his finger. “Suggesting I make a move on her, that’s disgusting. You should be ashamed.”

They were laughing when you shot the ball. They both turned to look, watching as the cue ball slammed into the shiny red ball, sending it spinning. It missed the hole by a few inches and both their brows shot up in surprise. Bucky grinned, standing up to join you at the table. You shoved the cue at his chest, turning your back to him and starting for the door. “Ask Steve to play the next game, I’m going to bed.”

“(Y/N), it’s noon.” Bucky’s long strides caught up to you before you could reach the door and he grabbed your arm, turning you around to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” It sounded a lot harsher than you meant for it to be, and Bucky winced. His hand on your arm relaxed, but he didn’t let go. Your eyes flickered to Steve, who had his back to you and was pretending not to notice. Then you locked eyes with Bucky again, suddenly aware of how close he was. Again. His chest was practically right in your face, head tilted down to look at you with those giant, beautiful eyes of his. You cursed yourself, feeling inadequate and stupid. Of course, he would say that there’s no chance in hell for you but you couldn’t stop yourself from having feelings for the idiot. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” His voice was soft, a tone you knew he reserved only for you. A quiet whisper that only you could hear, that calmed your nerves and made you think that maybe, just maybe, there was something else between you. But, there wasn’t. He had just said so. “Was it something I said?”

He looked hurt. And dammit if you didn’t hate that look. You had your fair share of slightly-mean things to say about him and he would always pretend like you hurt his feelings, but when he was genuinely hurt, it was different. It wasn’t playful or fun anymore and all you wanted to do now was hide. You could lie to him, say you weren’t feeling well. Blame cramps or headaches or something, but dammit. You hated to lie to him and didn’t want to start now- “I, uh,” you stuttered, unsure what to say.

“Too much?” His hand slid down your arm a bit, but remained firm. “I didn’t mean that, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I…” you shrugged, trying to stop your eyes from watering. “I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shoulders dropping. “I was just fooling around, I didn’t mean I wouldn’t kiss you-“ Bucky’s eyes widened a bit and he let go of your arm, immediately stepping back as confusion wormed itself on your expression. “I meant. I wouldn’t, but… I wouldn’t not. It was just a-“

“You two are going to give me an aneurism,” Steve swiveled in his chair, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Seriously? Please don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” The desire to run and hide was overshadowed by curiosity and confusion. Bucky pushed his hair out of his face, breathing a huff of air. His eyes scanned your face, like he was analyzing a threat, and he chewed absently on his lip. “Bucky?”

“I may or may not, let’s not point fingers here,” he started, looking incredibly uneasy. You shifted from one foot to another. “Have slightly less than platonic feelings for you.”

You stared blankly at him, trying to process what he had said. He was frozen too, waiting for your response, and when he got none, his face fell and he nodded. Assuming you either found that incredibly strange or didn’t return the feelings, he let go of your arm and turned to leave. But you snapped out of your daze and reached for him, grabbing the hand that let you go.

“I, uh.” Your mouth was dry, now, and you focused hard on the hand in yours. Slightly calloused, but soft and comforting.  He didn’t pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around yours. Not tight, but not loosely either. “Might have similar…Feelings.”

Bucky was grinning then, and his hand did tighten at your words. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping one arm around your waist. “That so?”

“I think so, yeah,” you laughed. Bucky seemed to have an idea then, because he let you go and turned, grabbing two forgotten cues leaning on the wall and thrusting one into your hands. Your brow rose and he led you toward the table, one arm over your shoulders. “What are we doing?”

“Rematch,” he said, gathering the balls from the pockets. You watched him set them up and then he came back around to stand in front of you. You smiled up at him, heart pounding again. You doubted it would ever stop.

“What do I win when I kick your ass?” You twirl the cue in your hands, quirking a brow up at him.

If, by the grace of God you actually manage to pull off that miracle,” he teased. “Then you get to kiss me. But when I show you who’s the boss- it’s me, I’m the boss- then I get to kiss you.”

A grin split your face and you heard Steve let out an annoyed groan from the other end of the room. Bucky stuck out his hand for a handshake and you took it, holding onto him a bit longer than necessary. “Bring it on, cupcake.”

Safe With Me - Leonard McCoy

Requested by anonymous.

When you woke up, it wasn’t to the bright light shining in your face, or the groans of the good doctor next to you. No, you woke up from the pain in your side. You clutched at it, feeling the blood pooling from it. 

“Shit,” you said, struggling to crawl out of the crashed space ship. You were up higher than you thought, so you fell further than you expected. You bit back another curse word as Leonard ran over to you.

“What the hell did you do that for?” he asked.

“I thought it would be fun,” you quipped. He rolled his eyes and studied your hand, that was clearly covering something. He tried to move your hand, but you pulled back.

“Y/N, just let me look.”

“I’m fine,” you said, standing up and immediately falling back down. Leonard laughed, even though there was no joy in it. He mostly sounded annoyed. 

“Show me.” You sighed and removed your hand, and pulled up your shirt. Leonard examined your side, and eventually reached out to touch it. You pulled back again and he gave you one more look. You nodded and relaxed as he tried to clean it off as best he could. You were in unfamiliar territory and didn’t know if danger could approach, or when. 

He reached into the ship and pulled out a bag of supplies, that was now almost entirely crushed. He looked through it, found nothing of use, and ripped off some of the fabric. He tied it around your waist and helped you stand.

“Are you ready to walk?” he asked. You nodded and took your first weak step. You let go of Leonard’s arm and walked on your own. He led the way, which wasn’t saying much, considering neither of you knew where you were. He walked in a general direction that didn’t look dangerous and you followed. 

Each time you had to cross a ridge or climb up some rocks, Leonard would try to help you. You would hold up your hand and try to get him to stop. You told him you could handle it. 

He stopped trying to help, but would always watch you cautiously. At one point, you fell down after climbing a big collection of rocks, that could nearly be considered a mountain. He rushed over to your side and helped you sit up.

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling away again.

“You’re not. You probably have internal bleeding. There’s a piece of the ship wedged into your side. You’re anything but fine.”

“I can take care of myself,” you said, trying to stand up again. Leonard was rather forceful as he pushed you back down. 

“Dammit, Y/N. Let me help you.” You rolled your eyes, sitting still, but still resisting his help. 

“I don’t need anyone’s help. We need to find the rest of the crew. That’s what’s more important here.”

“So you can just die, as long as we find the crew?” Leonard asked, cocking an eyebrow. You had never noticed how handsome he was, until this moment, when he was frustrated with you. You sighed and shrugged. 

“My health isn’t the most important thing. It’s important for you to find the others.”

“The other’s are gonna need you, too. Now stop your complaining. There’s a cave up there. At least let me pull out the debris.”

“How?” you asked, as he helped pick you up. He didn’t answer but carried you to the cave, wedding style. “You don’t have any tools. How-”

“Shut up,” he said, setting you down. “I’m a doctor. I know what I’m doing. You’re safe with me,” he said. You fidgeted uncomfortably, but he looked up at you with beautiful eyes, whose color you couldn’t tell as it seemed to change in different lighting. 

He pulled up your shirt and started removing the makeshift bandage. You winced and he moved slower. He cleaned it again, and looked up at you. You nodded.

“I’m gonna remove it.”

“I know.”

“It’s gonna hurt. I don’t have anything to give you.”

“You could give me your hand,” you said. He smiled ever so slightly, but shook his head. 

“Unfortunately, I’ll need both my hands.” You nodded, and started panicking more. “Don’t worry. Just breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. I’ll still be here.”

“I won’t have anything to hold on to,” you said. He shook his head, and positioned himself so he was closer to you, leaning over your side. 

“If you have to, grab onto me.”


“Anywhere. Just know that I’ll be here. Ready?” You fidgeted again but nodded. You closed your eyes, but then opened them a moment later, deciding that it was better to see what was happening.

“Okay, just hold on. I forgot to mention, that I’ll need to cauterize the wound, too.” 

“You have to do what- AHH!” you screamed as he pulled the chunk out of your side. Your hand went flying towards his leg and you clutched his thigh. You softened your grip, but still had your hand on his leg.

“I’m sorry. I still have to-”

“I know. Just get it over with.”

“This is going to hurt a lot more,” he said, sympathetically, studying your face.

“It’s okay. I’m safe with you,” you said. He smiled and nodded. He moved across the cave, and you didn’t see him for a while. He came back with a lighted torch, which illuminated the worry on his face.

“Are you ready?” he asked.


“Do you wanna hold my hand now?” he asked. You nodded and eagerly took it. He gave your hand a slight squeeze before he put the torch to your skin. You screamed, and squeezed his hand as hard as you could. It was over within a second, and you struggled for air. Leonard threw the torch across the room and looked at your wound. 

“How does it look?” you asked.

“Good. It’s properly cleaned and sealed. You should be fine, at least until we get back to the Enterprise.”

“If we get back.” He nodded and held out his hand. You took it and he lifted to your feet in a swift motion. 

“You ready to go?” he asked, looking at you thoughtfully. You nodded.

“Yes. Thank you.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek as a thanks. He smiled and the two of you started walking. You were a few feet from the cave when you realized that you were still holding hands.

People act like Lucio would be super nice to everyone and that’s fair because he’s a genuinely Good Dude and I do think that when Symmetra finally comes to her senses he’ll have an “okay, I’ll give you a chance, but don’t make me regret it” attitude towards it

But you cannot and will not expect me to believe he would ever be nice to Hanzo. He would consistently and regardless of circumstance refuse to say his actual name and instead opt to call him “Genji’s stupid brother.” He would without hesitation shove Hanzo in a pool for saying some shit about Genji. Lucio would 100% tell Hanzo he doesn’t own a phone while visibly texting.

Simsrena: the day Serena watched Bernie swimming....

In case you don’t remember, something happened between our lovely ladies which caused Serena to walk around like someone took all the wine away and Bernie to cry. Bernie, crying! It just doesn’t seem right to have the two words in the same sentence. 

In light of all that, last weekend I gave Bernie a bit of TLC… now that’s got my mind working… move it along, Rex!! Bernie agreed to join a group of people from work at a party in a nightclub and figured, yeah, some alcohol, a bit of dancing, a dip in the pool…. wait… skinny dipping is an option?! Bernie… swimming naked?!?! 

But wait, I thought to myself, this was supposed to be about Bernie. You’re supposed to be making Bernie feel happy! Get your shit together Rex and focus instead of feeding whatever little fantasy is going on in your mind - yeah I can see what you’re imaging and it’s not cool! 

Hang on, I said to that little voice in my head, swimming naked feels pretty good and Bernie deserves to feel good doesn’t she? Wouldn’t that make her happy? And that’s the whole point of this isn’t it?

Originally posted by gifawesomeness

Oh you devil you!

So anyway, here we are, swimming naked in a pool on a roof top when…

Shit, fuck, bollocks! It’s only Serena Bloody Campbell! 

Now, I know, you might be thinking, isn’t this a good thing? And in any other circumstance it would be great to find out they were part of the same group but recently whenever Bernie has been stood in front of Serena she just starts crying and then they argue. So you see, I actually would have preferred them to not see each other for a little while. I mean, just while they get over whatever happened….

Oh ok. Never mind. 

Right. Well, ok then. Apparently we’re forgetting whatever happened…

I think erm… I just… I’ll just…

Originally posted by existlost-blog

Sorry… there was a moment there where I forgot all time and space. Who am I? What was I doing? 

Oh yeah. Simsrena! 

Anyway, after Bernie and Serena snogged the lives out of each other Bernie jumped back into the pool and I have to admit, I did invite Serena to join me…. I mean join Bernie! Oh shut up, all of you!

Can we please just take a moment to appreciate the close up of Serena watching Bernie swimming naked. Oh I know and you’re welcome!

You’re also very welcome for what’s coming up now….

Oh yeah. Bernie and Serena, skinny dipping in the pool. THIS IS THE SHIT I PLAY THE SIMS FOR!!!! I think I’m far too worked up over this. I mean, it happened over a week ago and I’m still not over it!! Look at how sweet they were after they got out and dried off! 

I might be too invested in this. Am I too invested? Maybe someone needs to stage an intervention? Can someone organise this please? Can someone please send help?

I’ll be over here, sitting on my sofa playing Simsrena in my pjs and thinking about the possibilities for the next Simsrena update… SEND HELP!


Apart from my slight unravelling and mental breakdown Simsrena seem perfectly fine. They both had very unproductive days at work the next day because all they wanted to do was this….

And yeah I was happy to watch them do it…

Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Forget the help. Forget the intervention. Fuck it all. I am pure Berena/Simsrena trash. And I am happy to bow before thee!

Originally posted by redpyrofox