ruin lifes

Why People Can’t Put Down Sarah J. Maas Books:

SERIOUSLY. NOW ONE STAYS SAFE. EVER. 

NEXT CHAPTER AND BOOM: CRISIS.

I’m about to ruin your life with this rare pair and some HCs I have for them. I was thinking about KuroKage then BokuKage then I got all the way around to BokuKuroKage and the old me died and a new me was born and I come baring gifts on an OT3 so rare there is next to nothing for it. So Strap in cause if you get hooked this is pretty much all you’ll het for a while (pls someone save me and make some actual content for these angels)

  • Everyone knows Bokuto and Kuroo have a setter fetish, and who do we know is a grumpy, dark-haired, socially-quiet, Setter? AkashiKenma, And hasn’t already decided long ago that dealing with the terrible twosome that is Bokuro is more trouble than it’s worth?  Kageyama 
  • Yeah Bokuto and Kuroo are wild but omg are they super sweet to Kageyama. They give him soft pecks on the cheek and hug him from behind and never let go
  • Kuroo and Bokuto’s favorite thing to do is to catch Kageyama off guard with kisses. One kisses Kags behind the ear, and as he let’s a small gasp the other goes in for the lips. 
  • Also despite months of dealing with this Kags STILL turns the prettiest shade of red
  • Kags and Bokuto on the same college team, guys can you imagine? And cheerleader Kurro goes to all their games and cheers the loudest.
  • Honestly Bokuto and Kuroo both making sure Kags is staying Healthy, Bokuto making sure he never pushes himself too much at practice and Kuroo making sure he’s getting proper nutrition. 
  • And you know Kuroo is an amazing cook
  • Plus Kuroo tutoring Bokuto and Kags( one time Bokuto convinced him to dress nice like an actual teacher and that idea had to be retired quick because it was actually detrimental to Kags and Bokuto’s studies.  
  • Their home life is one big cuddle pile. Seriously Bokuto never lets go once he latches on. He usually starts with one and then eventually pulls in the other and Kuroo and Kags just go with it now.
  • Honestly though how can you resist when Bokuto has those strong arms around you.

Seriously I have so many ideas I can’t even type them all up. I need like 100 fanfics and 1000 pics and all I can do is write up some measly HC’s. Anyway here’s hoping I drag some people into this hell with me.

The Ten lazy commandments

1.You are born lazy therefor you live to relax
2.Love the bed like you love yourself
3.Relax during the day and all night
4.If you see someone being lazy, they are your mutuals
5.Work is too stressful. Take the day off and relax instead
6.Procrastinate on everything
7.Do no work. Tell other people to do it for you
8.Being lazy never killed anyone
9.If you ever feel like doing something, take a break until the feeling passes
10.Laziness is the key to long life. Work is for those who are tired of life

anonymous asked:

Omg I'm the original anon that asked you for Lucy/Flynn smut and IT'S BECOME THE GLORIOUS TRASH SAGA I DON'T BELIEVE IT. Bless you and also your cow. Also, er. More?

you are most welcome, this is officially an actual fic, i was just trying to write smut, why did i do this, why, why couldn’t the plot butt out and leave me in peace, whyyyyy – the trash saga of flynn and lucy is ruining my life k

It’s a long way through the dark forest on the back of a horse, jouncing and jolting, until Lucy is thinking that she doesn’t care where they are going, so much as when they will arrive, and she can get the hell off. She is not the most gifted equestrienne in the world, as proven when they were tracking Flynn and Jesse James, and besides, she wants some answers. It occurs to her that that mission was the one where Flynn found Emma hiding out in the woods, and yet Emma’s clearly calling the shots now. Lucy still hasn’t figured out who exactly their mysterious rescuers are. Their accents are modern American – if she hadn’t guessed it by their unsurprised reaction to the Lifeboat, these are definitely not local nineteenth-century Good Samaritans deciding to charitably help out two lost women and a child. They must be those emergency contacts Emma was talking about, more Mason Industries people, strategically implanted to help stranded time travelers get home. But Lucy has good reason to want to stay away from Mason Industries, and is already starting to wonder just what the odds are of some of Emma’s cohorts just happening to be here, exactly when they need them. History, after all, is a very big place.

At last, they canter through a torchlit gate and up to a stately country house, surrounded on all sides by forest and outbuildings – Maryland, after all, is just south of the Mason-Dixon line, and still officially a slave state, though its free black population is rapidly growing and in another few decades, Lincoln will force it to remain in the Union during the Civil War. If, of course, the Civil War even still happens as it’s supposed to. Lucy, the Lincoln historian, is well aware of this, but this whole situation is reminding her of a rather different adventure, and she’s not sure she likes it. As the man she’s been riding with helps her down, she glances across to see Emma leaping off her own horse and taking hold of Iris. “I’ll see to her, Lucy. You’ve done enough. Go inside and get warm.”

Lucy hesitates. “I want her to come with me.”

“Lady Preston?” Her escort touches her elbow. “The girl will be fine. We really have been waiting to speak with you.”

Lady Preston? That is even more eyebrow-raising than ma’am, and maybe these guys are just going native after however long in the nineteenth century. Still, Lucy is starting to think that another night at the boarding house would not have been the worst thing in the world. Hopefully they can get the Lifeboat fixed ASAP, because she wants out of here, bad. Then, of course, she remembers that she can’t. She’s stuck.

At any rate, there are at least six of them, they all have guns, and a doctorate from Stanford, while an objectively valuable life accomplishment, doesn’t provide many useful skills in terms of punching your way out of tight corners. That is decidedly Wyatt and Flynn’s department, and they, of course, are not here. Seeing nothing for it, Lucy follows the men inside.

Keep reading

cocoratscha  asked:

I know I'm late to the party but: Top 5 moments in which you wanted to punch Jungkook.

Oh man, where do I start?

1. Whenever there’s an abs tease

Originally posted by kthmxn

2. When he does this move…

Originally posted by jeoncentric

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

3. BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS (it was during this era that he became my bias wrecker. I miss the days before then when he wasn’t ruining my life)

Originally posted by ky-ngsoo

Originally posted by jitonic

Originally posted by mvssmedia

4. SWEATY JUNGKOOK

Originally posted by jiminkoala

Originally posted by scaredful

5. Whenever he looks like a freaking adorable bun and I get all confused because nothing makes sense anymore!! How does he switch between the two so well?? LOOK AT THAT SMILE! He stresses me out (I don’t actually want to punch him here. I just want to hug him and never let go tbh)

Originally posted by theseoks

Originally posted by hohbi

Innocent

Genre: Angst

Pair: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 1905

Summary: In which Yoongi gets drunk and asks for you.


Originally posted by talk-me-down-troye

It had been two months since I last saw him. Two months since he broke up with me under the pretense that I was too innocent and he, for some reason, would only ruin my life if he stayed with me. It had hurt. I had cried. I had questioned and wondered why he had even bothered to initiate the relationship if this was the outcome. I wondered if every pretty thing he said to me was a lie and if he ever even cared for me at all. I drank too much. I went out when I shouldn’t have. I let my life get out of control.

But then, one day, it stopped.

The pain disappeared; he didn’t frequent my thoughts. I could go a whole day without thinking about him or wondering what he was doing and if he missed me. I had stopped missing him. Life moved on. I was happy.

Then in the middle of my night shift at the book store, I had gotten a text.

It was from his best friend and the message, at first, made my entire body go numb.

He’s been drunk for hours; we can’t get him off the floor. He keeps asking for you

I debated responding, wondering if I was only hurting myself if I decided to go. But the second text made up my mind for me.

Please. He’s been a mess for months. He needs to see you.

The easier task was figuring out where he was. Outside his favorite bar not too far from where I worked. Getting myself out of my work’s parking lot was the harder task. My hands gripped the steering wheel until my joints hurt; my engine running but my foot firmly placed on the floor of my car. I hadn’t cried yet but my heart jackhammered inside my chest. I felt like I was going to be sick.

Fifteen minutes later I found myself on the familiar road leading up to the bar. The parking lot was almost empty even though it was only 11 at night and I found the three bodies huddled together over a lump on the floor almost as soon as I pulled in. At some point he had probably been resting against his friends’ car but now it seemed he just wanted to lie down.

I pulled up into the spot next to them and killed my engine still wondering if what I was doing was the right thing. I knew it wasn’t going to work out well for me no matter how the night turned out. He was drunk, I no doubt would cry, and nothing would really get resolved.

Still, I got out of my car.

His friends greeted me with troubled expressions as I slowly walked up to their group but I couldn’t even look at them when I saw him. He was a ruined mess, drunkenly passed out on the gravel of the parking lot. It was a pathetic sight but it still hurt to see him so destroyed.

“How long has he been like this?” I managed to ask.

The eldest of their group scratched his head. “He’s been drunk all day but he passed out about ten minutes ago. The bar called us to come get him and we made it this far but then he just…gave up.”

I listened to his words while watching the face of the man who broke my heart. If I was vengeful, I would laugh and walk away while wishing his friends luck. If I was petty, I may even give my unconscious ex a slap. But my heart still stuttered for him. I wasn’t over it yet.

Slowly, I crouched down next to his still body and gently ran my hand through his dark hair. He had recently dyed it black, its natural color, and it was so soft. I remembered the nights I spent running my hands through it as he slept. He said it was his favorite thing. Even now as an unconscious, drunken mess, he still quietly moaned at the sensation and ever so slightly pushed his head closer to my hand.

“Yoongi,” I whispered into his ear. He shifted a little, more groans escaping his lips as he slowly came back to consciousness. “Yoongi I need you to get up.”

“Is this a joke?” he croaked, his words slurring a bit.

I cocked my head to one side. “Is what a joke?”

“You’re not really here.” He kept his eyes firmly closed.

My hands continued to run through his hair. “I’m here, Yoongi. I need you to open your eyes.”

“Why would you be here?” he went on.

“You called for me, remember?” I tugged at the ends of his hair a little hoping that maybe some pain would cause him to grow alert.

It didn’t work. He swatted my hand away and curled further onto his side. I spared a glance to his friends and shook my head at a loss for how to get him up. Namjoon crouched down next to me and smacked his shoulder.

“Hey, we got her here because you wouldn’t shut up about it. Now she’s here and you’re ignoring her!” he raised his voice in mock anger. He was worried for his friend. I was worried, too.

“Liar!” Yoongi screamed as he shot up from his position almost knocking me and Namjoon off our feet. He glared at his friend, or tried to with droopy lids. “She wouldn’t come see me even if I was dead.”

He fell back against the car, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He either hadn’t seen me yet or assumed I was some hallucination from the alcohol because he didn’t acknowledge my presence at all. Namjoon noticed this too and anxiously looked towards me. I looked back, scared to speak. Did I want his attention? Did I want him to realize I was real? Did I have a choice?

“Stop being so dramatic,” I spoke up, “I’d at least come for the free food.”

At the sound of my voice, Yoongi’s eyes flicked towards me but the reaction died there. How drunk was he?

“Why are you haunting me?”

I was stunned by his denial.

“Yoongi, I’m right here,” I softened my voice and ran my hand through his hair again allowing it to rest at the nape of his neck, “I’m right here and I’m real. I’m not a ghost.”

“Why?” he groaned, closing his eyes again. “Why would you come after what I did to you?”

I sighed, removing my hand from his neck and rested it on my knee. It felt cold no longer touching him. “You asked for me, so I came.”

His head looped forward until it rested against his chest that rose and fell with slow, shallow breaths. It appeared as if he had fallen asleep again and I almost reached for him again when he spoke. “You’re too good for me. You don’t deserve this.”

“I’m not arguing with you there,” I replied, “but you’re drunk and passed out in a very dirty parking lot so I’m here to get you home.”

“Just leave me here. I’ll sober up eventually,” he protested.

I stifled the urge to violently roll my eyes. He was so dramatic sometimes.  

“Not taking the chance,” I huffed and rose to my feet. He watched me with eyes more alert than they were before. He was listening now. “Get up, get in the car, and I’ll take you home. Or you can sleep here and I’ll leave.”

I extended my hand and watched Yoongi wage the proposition over in his head as he stared at me. For a second it seemed like he wasn’t going to take it, but then his cool, slick fingers laced around my wrist and I hauled him to his feet. He was a bit unbalanced but refused any help from his friends. A small smile pressed into my lips as I spun on my heel and walked to my car.

Popping open the car door, I turned back to the boys and gave them a small nod. Namjoon mouthed his thanks as he trailed behind Yoongi to make sure he didn’t fall again but his steps were steadier than they probably were earlier. He managed to make it into my low car by himself and strapped himself in with no one’s help, not even mine. I stepped in and closed the door, revving the engine to life before waving a goodbye to the boys.

The drive to his apartment was quiet. He didn’t say anything, probably was trying hard not to breathe, and I spared him no words. I wanted to scream at him, wanted to punch him, wanted to desperately ask why he wanted me when he so carelessly threw me away in the first place. I wanted to blame him, to curse him, to send him straight to hell. But I bit my tongue because I knew nothing would come of it. Two months of nothing but desperately wanting answers showed me that no answers would ever come. At least not the ones I wanted. So what was the point?

We pulled up to his apartment twenty minutes later and I parked the car but didn’t turn off the engine. Yoongi was sober enough now to realize where we were but he didn’t make an effort to get out of the car or unbuckle his seat belt. I sat still waiting for him to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it. You were drunk and they needed my help,” I responded.

He shook his head, “Not about tonight.”

I knew what he meant but I didn’t, couldn’t, hear him say it. If he apologized now, it would be over. Months of thinking about this moment did not prepare me for the inevitability of it and when it ended then what would I do?

All I said was “you’re home now.”

He still didn’t move.

“I wanted to make sure you were ok.” His confession didn’t shock me but it did sting. Now he cared.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I harshly asked.

He sighed and lowered his head into his hands, “I didn’t want to ruin you. I pushed you away so I wouldn’t ruin you. I’m fucked up and you’re so—“

“Don’t,” I cut him off, “Don’t you dare say it.” He looked up in surprise but the floodgates had opened and I couldn’t stop myself. “That word has haunted me for months. Months, Yoongi. Everything I did, all the things I loved, even the way I dressed reminded me of that damn word. That damn excuse. You wanted out, but you were too much of a coward to admit it, so you made yourself a villain and put me on a fucking pedestal. Untouchable. You have no idea what that did to me.”  

“I’m so—“

“I don’t care,” I snapped, the anger bubbling to the surface. “You didn’t ruin me, Yoongi, you aren’t powerful enough. But don’t ever call me that again.”

He sat in stunned silence, or drunken confusion, and all I wanted was to be rid of him. I was done. I wanted this chapter of my life closed. I unlocked the door. “Get out.”

For once in his life, he listened to me.

youtube

I think about you sometimes and I go to call you up on the telephone
And if my call gets throught to you I hope it finds you weeping and your all alone
I’m gonna ruin your whole life
I wanna hear you cry
I’m gonna make it

Hard for you
Drag you through the shit
Gonna rub your nose in it

Hard for you
Hard for you
Hard for you
Hard for you

I’ve had a vision from above hate has come from love I hate you more than anything
But what I do is justified cause the way that you fucking lied revenge is not a sin
I’m gonna ruin your whole life
I wanna hear you cry
I’m gonna make it


Hard for you
Drag you through the shit
Gonna rub your nose in it

Hard for you
Hard for you
Hard for you
Hard for you
Hard

You threw me out with nothing nothing but my pathetic need for you
Well I admit you hurt me but its nothing like the hurt I’m gonna put you through
I’m gonna ruin your whole life
I wanna hear you cry
I’m gonna make it
Hard for you

Drag you through the shit
Gonna rub your nose in it

Hard for you
Hard for you
Hard for you