roast beef sandwiches

Say That Again

Summary: Soulmate AU. Everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,543

Warnings: language, self-consciousness, fluff, that’s basically it

A/N: This is my submission for the lovely wonderful talented @bladebarnes’ 2k Celebration Challenge. My prompt was 35. quote: “Say that again.” I saw Baby Driver recently and couldn’t get the diner thing out of my head.

Originally posted by coporolight

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people here are so fake……goin around tagging food posts as “food porn” and goin “bitch i’m wet” but when i take a nice grip on my dick and start stroking it to a roast beef sandwich cause it looks like a pussy I’M the bad guy

The Mirage Heist  // Thief!Shawn AU // Part 2

Part One  

|My Masterlist|

Summary: Shawn is a criminal mastermind and you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time….or was it the right place at the right time?

Alarms start going off the moment the guy you were with opens the safe door. Loud, blaring alarms that make you wish you could cut your own ears off. Everything goes from zero to a hundred real quick after that. Sunglasses comes running in followed by two other guys. There is a lot of yelling and ordering around. The guys who came in with Sunglasses start prying open vault doors along the wall with surprising ease. They leave some cash while stuffing others into bags and you can’t help but why not grab it all? Before you can open your mouth, Sunglasses is grabbing you by your collar and hauling you up off the floor.

“You, with me,” he growls and you pull back against his grip. He sets his jaw and you can see a nerve tick through his cheek. “It’s not an option sweetheart.”

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yarrayora  asked:

request: ron weasley finding himself waking up in his younger self's body + "Harry might have forgiven you, named his sons after you two, but I'm not Harry and I'll make sure he will have a life beyond your plans"

He goes to bed a man and awakens a boy.

Ron Weasley is thirty years old. He has fought a war and survived it, too; he’s loved and lost and loved again, he’s buried one brother and sired two children and he’s—lived. The evidence of this is all around him, in the ache of his bones and the premature gray streaking his hair. It’s in the tired smiles he and Hermione will share on the days that still—still, even now, even years later—rest heavy on their souls with loss.

When he slips underneath the covers it’s with the warm weight of his wife by his side and the knowledge his children are just a room over. He shuts off the lights with a weary wave of his wand and closes his eyes with a soft sigh. Hermione grabs his hand beneath the sheets and her fingers are warm. She squeezes his hand. He smiles, soft, and squeezes back. He falls asleep with her hand in his.

Ron awakens from his sleep a child of eleven years, with gangly limbs and unscarred skin and no body lying beside him. He wakes up alone, young, and scared—falls straight out of bed into a heap on the floor, threadbare blankets twisted around him, his brothers snoring across the room. His hands are smooth and soft, free of calluses. The hair on his head is thick and a brilliant red, no gray in sight. His bones do not ache. His eyesight is as strong as it ever was.

Ron awakens into a world he outgrew years and years ago—and screams.

-

At first he is inconsolable, and no whispered words of comfort from his mother can calm him. She is too young and he is too small, and the sight of her starts the angry helpless tears anew, grief clogging his throat.

At first Ron mourns, mourns the loss of the future they all bled to create. He mourns his wife, his children. His friends. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but Ron has lived too long not to listen to instinct, and he knows—he won’t be going home. He won’t be going back. He’s lost them all.

That’s when the sorrow turns to rage.

Ron is old. Old at thirty, true, but hasn’t he earned the right? Haven’t they all? He’s betrayed and been betrayed, he’s bled a thousand times and lost so much—friends, family, innocence. His childhood was a warzone and he’s spent the last twenty years making sure his children never grew up the same way. His life wasn’t always happy but it is better, it’s bright. It’s his.

So how dare they, whoever they are, whoever is responsible—how dare they take that from him. He fought for that happy ending, his brother died for it, and the rest of them nearly followed. How dare they dishonor that sacrifice. How dare they take Ron from a time of peace and place him right back into the bloodbath.

How dare they.

-

He spends nearly a week in this state, caught between rage and sorrow, tottering back and forth between the two. His family has noticed, and he can tell by their worried glances that he’s starting to freak them out. Even the twins are acting…. Far nicer than Ron remembers them to be, but that certainly doesn’t help—Ron can’t look Fred or George in the eye, and every time Percy places a hand on his shoulder he flinches.

He’s a mess. He knows it, they know it. One week back in the past and he’s already screwed up.

In the end, it is his mother’s desperate tactic of using his upcoming year at Hogwarts to try and cheer him up that snaps him out of his stupor. Hogwarts. Harry, Hermione, Luna, Neville. War and blood and friendship and –

Ron has three weeks until he boards the train, three weeks until the year that changes everything is kick-started into motion.

Ron thinks of war and blood and brothers who died too early. He thinks of Harry, tired and old even at seventeen, blood crusted on his cheek. Hermione, eyes flinty, shoulders set back as she prepares to fight for her life. He thinks of Luna caged in the Malfoy cellar and Neville as he slayed the snake, and he thinks—

No. He knows.

They earned their happy ending, once upon a time. But that future is gone, now, so maybe—maybe this time—

Maybe Ron can find it for them.

Maybe this time, no one has to die.

Ron has three weeks before Hogwarts. Three weeks before the train. Three weeks to save the world.

And Ron may not be the hero, or the chosen one—but he has always, always, been good at strategy.

-

When he steps on the train it’s with fear in his heart and excitement lodged in his throat. The bag looped around his shoulders is filled with roast-beef sandwiches Ron has never liked (but Harry will eat them and so he doesn’t mind), used books, and a hand-me-down wand. But there are also journals, made invisible with illegal spells Hermione slaved over years ago, journals filled with diagrams and plots and important things Ron cannot afford to forget.

(He hopes, just a little bit, to perhaps buy a pensive. One day. It’s a stupid idea, but—is it so wrong for Ron to want to see his children again, even if only in his memories?)

Ron steps onto the platform and it’s like stepping into Hogwarts the first time—it’s bustling and loud and alien, almost menacing in its confusion. He sees faces of future enemies and future friends alike—Draco Malfoy, sharp features soft with baby fat, sneer ill-fitting on his sallow face; Neville Longbottom, shoulders hunched near his ears and toad clenched in shaking hands, no confidence to be found; Lavender Brown, her pretty face glowing, small hoops dangling in her ears, no blood beneath her perfectly manicured nails.

It shakes him to the core, and though Ron is young, now, young and small and as gangly as the rest of them, he fancies himself a stranger. They are so young, all of them, young in body and eyes and soul. It hits Ron right then and there that though he may try, he’ll never see those brothers- and sisters-in-blood in these children. They’re here before him but they’ll never be as he remembers them to be, once upon a future.

He nearly flees onto the train, but the twins are close behind, their eyes watchful and worried. Still, he cannot meet their eyes.

“Gotta go,” Ron tells them, before they can comment, and then he dashes up the steps and into the corridor. He waves out the open door with half-hearted enthusiasm when his family looks back, uncertain. He smiles to put them at ease, and maybe he even means it. It makes him feel better, being on the train: the only way to go now is forward.

His mother beams at him, waving wildly, Ginny bouncing on her heels beside her. For the first time their young faces do not fill Ron with grief. Instead, as he waves wildly back, something warmer rises in his chest. Something like hope.

There’s a whole future before him, and Ron is ready. All the pieces in place. Voldemort best be ready, because Ron has been playing this game his whole life. He’s not planning on losing now.

Ron wanders the train, careful not to sit down. He’ll have to wait until the train is about to leave to find Harry, and as he glides past the youthful faces of his year-mates he finds himself settling. He sees Hermione and smiles at her as bright as he can—it hurts to see her, but the small smile she gives back leaves him giddy for the rest of the trip.

A whistle blows. Ron wanders forward, already knowing where to go.

Harry is at the back, as he always is, leaning against the widow with his eyes half-lidded as he watches. Ron watches him, too. Sees the shadows under his eyes and the quiet slump of his bony shoulders and marvels, again, at how young they all are.

He thinks too of Dumbledore, and Snape, and children named after heroes and villains alike. Harry had forgiven them, but that was years ago, and Ron has never been the hero. Never been all that good at forgiving.

They’re young, all of them. Just children, and that fact is clearer to him now. They are all just children.

He’ll have a life beyond your game of chess, Ron thinks—promises. This time, he’ll be better. He won’t let himself be blinded by jealousy or necklaces that whisper in the night. He’ll save them all, be the friend he tried to be and this time succeed at it—and this time when Harry looks back at these years, he’ll have more happy memories than bad ones.

For the future Ron lost, for the future he could yet have again—Ron will make sure of it.

He slides back the door and smiles when bottle-green eyes glance back. A whistle blows loud and piercing. Beneath his feet, the train begins to move.

“Hi,” Ron says. “Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

Harry nods, slow and careful. Ron smiles his brightest smile, and for the first time, feels no grief, no fear, no worry.

It’s a new day, a new game, and Ron is ready to play.

ok i really hate that “wow harry was such a shitty 12 year old boy for not feeling obligated to buy the weasleys things” post and it’s various shitty comments so much for multiple reasons:

  • y’all missed when harry felt immensely guilty that the weasleys still gave him shelter and food and when he tried to repay them, molly was like “oh my goodness no” like he wished there was a way to help them (even tho hes a literal child and like that is too much weight to put on him??? and molly and arthur would literally never ask him to do that???) yet y’all are like “wow i can’t believe he didn’t just single handedly end their financial struggles bc it’s obviously his fault” like wtf lmao
  • “wow let me just buy this whole cart like an asshole” ok 1) that was his literal first time having money his abusers couldn’t get a hold of and 2) his friend just said he was hungry and didn’t want his roast beef sandwich, so of course harry’s 11 year old ass was gonna be like “i made a new friend AND i have all this money, i’m buying the whole cart for both of us”
  • “let’s go to hogsmeade it’s my treat but fuck you lol” that literally never happened but like ok
  • harry wanting a gold cauldron was when he was with hagrid and also once more see child has money for first time that his abusers cannot touch and it wasn’t so he could brag about it??? he was just like “holy shit i can buy whatever i want” because he has money for the first time and he was ELEVEN (11)

anyway idk what books you were reading but stop acting like harry james potter was this selfish little asshole who used money to one up people, when like that has literally never happened in the books ever

a kind of funny story

So I work at a place famous for their attempt at roast beef and down the street there’s an amburgers and wootbeer, It’s a  very common mistake for customers to come through looking for other restaurants, I didn’t have a headset on so I only heard one side of the conversation, but this lady comes through drive thru and I guess she had coupons for amburgers and wootbeer and this is basically what I heard:

Co-worker: Welcome to Roast Beef, what can I get you?

Co-worker: I’m sorry, can you repeat that?

Co-worker: We don’t serve hamburgers here, I think that coupon is for Amburgers and Wootbeer

Co-worker: I’m sorry, I can’t give you  hamburgers, but I can take the coupon and give you two roast beef sandwiches instead

Co-worker: I understand you want hamburgers but we don’t have them

Co-worker: We don’t serve hamburgers, I’m sorry

Co-worker: No, I really can’t give you a hamburger, please try going to the amburgers and wootbeer down the street

Co-worker: Ok. Bye.

Frost (Chapter Nine)

TRIGGER WARNING– mention of past sexual assault/Tonys reaction to it. It’s not graphic at all, nothing is described or anything, it’s just brought up and there are a few paragraphs where Tony/Loki discuss it. I will mark ****where it begins and ends. This sort of thing can be particularly triggering for people, so just be careful.

Can’t wait to hear what you guys think of this chapter, other than the TW it’s honestly beautiful and sooo cute and the boys kiss a little! Long Chapter 4200 words!

ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS HERE
**********************

“You have been avoiding our Anthony, and it is hurting him.” Thor said disapprovingly as he fastened his warm cloak over his riding clothes.

“Your forgiveness.” Loki murmured, staring down at the ground. “Things did not go as planned the other day and I–”

“Anthony mentioned your change. He also said that you ran from the room before he could even try and understand what had happened. Your brief explanation only confused him more.”

“Yes. Well when he came running to you, did you tell him of the demon that lurks within me?”

“Your Jotunn form is not a demon, Loki.” Thor said patiently. “You have hated it for so long, but it is not as monstrous as you believe. And it has no bearing on your personality. “Tis just cosmetic. Our Anthony does not care about such things.”

“Easy for you to say.” Loki retorted. “You have poems written to your beauty. I am the thing that lurks in the night, what we tell the children in horror stories.”

“You are not.” Thor shook his head. “And by denying Anthony to chance to see you, to even talk to you, is hurtful to both of you. It pains me to see you miserable. It has been a long few days.”

“Yes well.” Loki folded his arms, shook his head in defeat. “While I have missed Anthony, I am at a loss as to how to talk to him again. We were close and then I–” he closed his eyes. “I changed and I couldn’t–”

“He mentioned you were close.” Thor agreed, a curious light in his eyes. “I take it after our conversation, you were eager to further your relationship with our Anthony.”

“I attempted.” Loki emphasized. “And look what happened. Obviously Anthony and I are not meant to–”

“You need to talk to him.” Thor insisted. “You are doing him a disservice by assuming that he will reject you over something cosmetic, something you have no control over. What you are has no bearing on who you are, and it is high time you realized that. Our Anthony is only a man and yet he is stronger of will than most immortals that walk our realms. What if I had discounted him because of what he was? I would have missed out on my love and I cannot abide that.”

Thor frowned at him. “Do not leave our hjartslattur lonely, wondering why one who shares his heart is trampling so thoroughly on it by hiding himself away. Go to him.”

“I will be gone for several days, and if I return to hear that you have avoided him, I will be very angry with you.”

“Thor–”

Loki.” Thor grabbed him in their almost-hug, their arms clasped, their foreheads touching. “Swear it. Swear you will go to him. I will not leave while you two are at odds with each other.

“I swear.” Loki agreed, even as he fought against the panic in his chest, the thought of facing Anthony again enough to make him tremble. “I swear.”

“Very well, then.”

Thor held him for another moment before pulling away. “I have already said good-bye to Anthony, left him sleeping in our chambers.”

“I will find him when he wakes.” Loki promised. “Safe travels. Return home to us.”

Loki didn’t think anything about his words, it was a standard enough thing to say in parting. But this time something flickered in Thor’s blue eyes, something Loki didn’t quite catch before the giant turned and headed out the door.

But whatever it was left Loki feeling… warm.

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Studyblring and being a student isn’t always aesthetically pleasing and easy. It’s hard. I struggle with an assload of mental illness stuff, and I can’t keep up with editing my notes, so my rough drafts have to do. My essay outlines are ugly. My handwriting isn’t great. I had a roast beef sandwich and a Luna bar for breakfast. I’m doing my best on this midterm due at midnight and have another midterm in the morning. It’s hard. But I’m trying my best. And I think that’s what being a studyblr is really about

6

2nd Phase of NieR Automata Themed Square Enix is coming on April 22!

It features new merch like the new characters acrylic figures. It also comes with new menu as well such as, Emil Depression Pancake Salad, Black Box with Roasted Beef Sandwich, and the infamous Ending K - aji wo [K]utta- Mackerel

anonymous asked:

More Vietnam AU please!!!

Vietnam AU

Claire blissfully settled back a bit on the bench, resting her head against the whitewashed siding of the barn, watching a red squirrel scamper through the clearing and chase a gray squirrel up a fir tree.

Jamie’s Fraser forebears had built a few stalls in the 1760s. Right after the main rooms of the Big House – Lallybroch, after the estate they’d lost in the Highlands following the disastrous ’45 Rising – had been completed. Governor William Tryon had given another James Fraser a spectacular land grant, which still formed the core of the family’s farm and landholdings. They had farmed this land – poured their blood and sweat into the dirt and trees and fields – for more than two centuries.

And prospered.

How she enjoyed just listening to Jamie’s rich, melodious voice spinning incredible tales of valor and love and sacrifice. Without breaking a beat, he handed her an apple from his rucksack – exchanging it for the remaining half of the roast beef sandwich Jenny had made him this morning – smiling at how she’d chewed around the tomato slices.

“Not a fan, hmm?” he teased.

Her teeth crunched around the apple. “Never liked them – too slimy.” Smiling.

“I’ll have to remember that, then.”

She didn’t think her heart could beat any faster.

“And then Simon Fraser, my grandfather, decided to expand the whisky operation – we still use the caves he carved out to age the bottles. Murtagh always talks about going more commercial, but I prefer keeping it all in the family.”

It had probably been several hours since they’d been able to stop just staring at each other, and Jamie had led Claire by the hand into the sunshine outside the barn.

Suddenly shy around each other, Claire had grasped at something – anything – to keep them talking.

“Tell me about your family?” she asked gently, gesturing toward a bench tucked against the side of the barn.

And then he’d laughed.

What she wouldn’t give to hear that every single day for the rest of her life.

“How many generations back?” he’d teased, eyes flashing. Still holding her hand.

“Your parents will do.” Her thumb caressed his injured hand. Carefully. Gently.

“Ach, no way! I’ll tell you the entire history of this place. It’s in my blood, you see?”

And it was – it clearly was. Never had she seen anyone so proud of his family – and what so many generations, united for the same purpose, had accomplished.

So they had spent the next several hours talking – and laughing – and genuinely getting to know each other for the first time. Jamie was a born storyteller – charming, witty. Flirtatious.

And as the hours passed – and they shared Jamie’s simple yet delicious lunch – they began to relax.

They did not discuss why Claire had come. What she had been doing. What Jamie had been doing, since they’d parted on the helicopter pad at Chu Lai.

That would come. But now – now they celebrated the simple fact that they were with each other again.

It was overwhelming. Claire had had weeks to mentally prepare – Jamie had had no notice.

“Don’t you have chores?” she asked after a while – now that lunch was over, Jamie’s rucksack tucked away, and their hands had found each other again. “Don’t you need to fix that saddle, or whatever you were doing when I interrupted you?”

He shrugged, eyes facing forward out into the forest. So quietly green and lush. The woods he had grown up in.

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore. You’re here.”

Claire pursed her lips – sensing an opening. She turned on the bench to face him directly.

As always – he was right there to meet her.

“What happens now, Jamie?”

He took her left hand between his, tracing his thumb around the base of her ring finger. Eyes strong on hers.

“Why have you come, Claire?” His voice was soft, vulnerable. “To tell me you’re well – or so that we could make a life together?”

“I’m not married anymore,” she breathed. “I went home to him, like you asked me to. It took me until Christmas to see him. And I told him we would move forward, as husband and wife.”

She closed her eyes – suddenly overcome with shame.

Jamie waited.

Patient.

Giving.

Tears trickled from her eyes. “He told me he had fallen in love with someone else – and that our marriage was over. He didn’t even want to try.”

A soft, soft touch on her cheek.

Jamie’s lips, kissing the tears away.

Kissing the apple of her cheek. Her nose. Her forehead.

Cherishing her.

Infusing her with strength.

She opened her eyes – and he was right there in front of her.

“We got an annulment. And I got into medical school, in Boston.”

Jamie had such a beautiful smile.

“And then I had a chance to come down to App State – to work with Dr. Beaton. I want to help people find their voices – to help them heal from tragedy and injury. To help them find themselves.”

She twined their fingers together.

“You have a knack for that, Claire,” he breathed. “You can do *anything* you set your mind to. Don’t you know that by now?”

He held her eyes. She felt invincible.

“I do,” she said after a long while. “I do.”

“Good. But Claire – you didn’t answer my question.”

She shifted a bit on the bench. “I don’t think it’s only my decision, Jamie – it’s yours as well.”

He licked his lips, dropping his gaze to his knees.

“My life is yours, Claire.”

She reeled back – stunned.

“I – Jamie, I – you can’t – ”

“Yes, I can. And I will. You saved my life, at Chu Lai. You restored me to myself. I owe you a debt. So it’s up to you to decide what we shall do – where we go next. My heart has been yours since the first time I saw you, and you’ve held and healed my soul and my body between your two hands – and kept them safe.”

None of this was real. Real people didn’t talk like this.

But Jamie was real, all right – more real than anything had ever been to her. More than Frank – more than school – more than anything else that had ever mattered in her life.

“Do you know what I was saying to you, all that time when I was locked in my mind? When my mouth couldn’t form the right words?”

He nudged his knee with hers, getting her to look up. To see the tears shining in his own eyes.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. Tell me?”

He tilted his head. “I was telling you how beautiful you are. How you remind me of the fairy stories my Mam told me as a child – of the sorceress who bewitches the mighty warrior. The kelpie who comes from the sea to claim a human man as her love. The enchantress whom the brave hero is compelled to fall for.”

He took a deep breath. “And then I’d tell you of my home – of here, Lallybroch. And how I knew you’d fit right in to life here – how happy we would be here, together. Of the life we’d have, if things were different.”

Claire’s cheeks pinked at his words – at the praise she felt she did not deserve. “What do you mean, if things were different?”

“If I’d met you at a different time or place. If you weren’t married. If I could court you properly, the way you deserve.”

He straightened his back, licking his lips.

“So. I will ask you a third time, Claire. Why are you here?”

Preparing himself for anything – including rejection.

But those were words that would never fall from her lips.

The next words she had asked him so many times in her dreams. It was the most natural thing in the world.

“Will you have me?”

An extraordinary look of terror and joy and jubilation flashed across his face.

He grabbed her hands, kissing them feverishly.

“Yes,” he rasped. “Yes, I’ll have you.”

anonymous asked:

There's a man by the trash bins who likes making deals. It's hard to say if he's one of the Gentry, or merely very adept at annoying them. He doesn't trade in names, which lead many students to him, asking for dwarf hair or clippings from plants that don't exist. But every so often, one of the Gentry will be seen trading as well- though what they ask for, no one knows. (1/?)

The man, if asked, says he has no use for names or their power- he prefers cash. Gold, if you have it, but any currency will do. But be careful. His prices, though they’ll save your identity, are steep. If he seems relaxed, or even bemused by your request, he’s been known to haggle for a lower price. If he seems annoyed, or anxious, don’t bother. Accept the price he gives. (2/?) 

For items from the human world, his prices are easy to predict- cost of the item, plus his transport fee, and a little extra if there’s a lot to order. For more rare items, gold might not be enough. He’s been know to trade for a large roast beef sandwich with extra mustard, but he’s also been known to take hundreds of dollars in dimes, each with a drop of blood to seal the bargain. (3/?)  

Sometimes, he hides. If you want to make a deal then, bring food- spicy, greasy, supersized- and a note with your request. If he’s interested, he’ll find you. If not… well, it wasn’t your name. (4/4)                      

Sockathan trash
  • Sock likes to steal and wear Jonathan's hoodie. Little known fact, Jonathan, likes to steal and wear Sock's scarf.
  • Jonathan loves to pretend he forgets a lot of things because he wants Sock to guess because he thinks it's cute. Sock however, finds this extremely annoying because he knows that Jonathan knows, and is just being stupid.
  • As much as Jonathan likes to stay as apathetic as humanly possible, he just can't keep it up around Sock. Even a glance from the demon can make him smile. Sock loves this, and does as many things as possible to keep him smiling, or to get a laugh out of him.
  • Sock and Jonathan's favorite sounds are each other's laughs. Sock, because he loves to see Jonathan laugh, and loves his laugh, and Jonathan, because he loves how cute Sock's giggles are.
  • Sock has WAY more than one skirt. Jonathan secretly likes all of them on Sock, even though he would never admit it.
  • Jonathan's hobbies are listening to music, playing acoustic guitar, and is actually a huge fantasy bookworm.
  • Dragons are Jonathans favorite type of fantasy creature, and also his favorite pokemon type.
  • Jonathan doesn't know much about pokemon, but is learning more from Sock, who is an avid pokemon fangirl.
  • Sock's favorite song is Space Jam.
  • Sock once decorated his christmas tree with the intestines of a rabbit.Never again had his parents let him decorate the tree by himself.
  • Jonathan tried out for the football team once because his dad played football before, and his friend Zack was on the team. He quit 5 minutes in because the coach said the warm up was "just getting started".
  • Before they were dating, Sock would bug the shit out of Jonathan for having a crush on Lil. Now Jonathan hardly thinks about her at all.
  • Sock loves to take little things he knows Jonathan needs and put them in different spots in his room, just to make the mornings before school a little bit more difficult.
  • Jonathan is a borderline coffeeholic, while Sock can't stand the stuff.
  • Jonathan's favorite kind of sandwich is a roast beef sandwich with lettuce and mayo. "Plain, simple, and delicious." As he describes it.
  • Jonathan is surprisingly good with younger kids, despite his edgy personality.
  • The first time Sock witnessed Jonathan and a child interacting was when a little boy about 4 years old was lost at the high school. Jonathan saw him wandering around and asked him if he was looking for someone. The boy said he was looking for his sister, and Jonathan offered to help find her. He held the boys hand and took him around the school looking for her. By the time they found her, the boy was asleep, piggybacking on Jonathan's back. Sock's heart almost exploded from how adorable witnessing this was.
  • ((Hoowah it is 12: 23 AM and im not focused enough to write down more. These were fun, and I might make more if requested :00
  • I know not all of these are sockathan but whatever.
  • Sock and Jonathan are from Welcome to Hell which belongs to Erica Wester etc.))