sigh he's pretty good looking

anonymous asked:

rebelcaptain & #11 (things you said when you were drunk) please?

No one knew for certain how Solo had managed to procure the Corellian brandy — especially since it was the good stuff — but after sustaining themselves on hooch distilled in a contraption cobbled together from various X-Wing parts, no one was going to ask.

Cassian had tried to beg off partaking in the imbibement, but Jyn had the fantastic ability to demolish his iron will with one look of her soulful blue eyes rimmed in dark kohl.

Also, there was the small fact of a challenge issued. He’d never met anyone half as competitive as Jyn, but he couldn’t refuse the gauntlet thrown down at his feet. She couldn’t possibly outdrink him.

Had his rationality and sense not fled him at the sight of her cocked eyebrow, he might’ve realized just how idiotic that thought seemed.

Cassian had been known to drink once in a while, but never more than one or two drinks, and he tended to stick to ales and lagers or mezcal. Somehow Jyn had managed to snag an entire bottle of the brandy, and between the two of them, they put a substantial dent in it until only two shots remained.

Jyn’s eyes had a glazed look to them, and she swayed slightly on the overturned crate she had repurposed into a chair. The makeshift table of plastisteel between them rested on another appropriated crate, and Cassian had a crate of his own.

He wet his lips and regarded the shotglass in front of him. He already felt like he might slosh when he stood up. The likelihood of him being able to make it to his quarters would be significantly lessened if he took that last drink.

“Why’d we decide this was a good idea?” he mumbled.

“Does that mean you forfeit?”

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4

Ken and Hyuk @ VIXX N Kpop (2015/10/02)

And It Was Quiet

A MHA fanfiction.

Summary:

Inko knits and Toshinori naps. All in all, it’s a quiet evening.


Inko Midoriya was having a pleasant evening.

Lately she had taken to visiting her son’s dorms, occasionally staying overnight in one of the spare rooms. Originally she had only stopped for brief visits to check up on Izuku. Slowly but surely she had stayed longer each time, eventually staying too late one night talking with Izuku and his friends. They had insisted that she stay overnight, counting out all of the free rooms they had.

It had quickly evolved into her staying for a few days at a time, sleeping in one of the free rooms on the ground floor. Helping students with various things was common place for her - many of them were essentially living on their own for the first time, and everyone greatly appreciated her help. She enjoyed working with the students.

So here she was, sitting in a recliner, knitting resting in her lap, the common room mostly quiet. Her son was somewhere upstairs, messing around with his friends. Inko gave a content sigh and leaned back into the chair, taking a moment to examine her handiwork.

Meanwhile, on the couch next to her, Toshinori gave a quiet snore.

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foreverlovingdaryldixon  asked:

Oh my gosh I have missed your prompts! Please please please write a jealous Daryl over Carol and Tobin. Much love. x

Whomp.

“Shit.”

Whomp.

“…Shit. C’mon!”

Whomp.

It was the sharp hiss of pain after twenty minutes of chopping and swearing that had Carl scrambling off the couch and heading into the backyard. Daryl’s working and cursing had been incessantly rhythmic enough to put Judith into a doze, so Carl left her in her playpen as he went to investigate.

Daryl was stomping around in a short circle in the yard, intermittently shaking his hand in the air and holding it close to rub the pain in his wrist. There was a pile of chopped wood to one side, a pile of wood yet-to-be-chopped on the other side, and in the middle was the chopping block, looking worse for wear where Daryl had embedded the ax head in it multiple times.

Currently, the head was a good few inches into the block, sticking up at a defiant angle. It wasn’t hard to put together that Daryl had yanked a little too aggressively and twisted something.

“What are you doing?” Carl asked bluntly, stopping at the bottom of the porch steps and not venturing closer.

Daryl spun on his heel, and his hot glare thawed a bit when he spotted Carl. There were a dozen colorful swear words just behind his teeth, but he settled for seething and sending an off-balance kick into the wood block.

“Keeps gettin’ fuckin’ stuck.”

“Well, that’ll happen when you swing like a lumberjack.” Carl folded his arms. “Planning a bonfire?”

Daryl averted his eyes, pacing twice in front of the stubborn ax. He almost looked embarrassed that someone had caught him. That thought was beyond confusing to Carl. He had literally watched this man fight a raccoon in hand-to-hand combat and lose before…

“Always heard winters up here were a bitch,” Daryl grumbled. “Don’t wanna waste gas or power on heat when it comes.”

The balmy seventy degrees in the air had Carl lifting an eyebrow.

Daryl didn’t offer any additional explanation, but he looked leery of going at it with the ax again. The way he was holding his wrist, it was still smarting pretty good. Carl sighed and glanced toward the house. He looked back to Daryl.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“You deaf?” Daryl glared at him. “Just said—“

“I know, but there are about a hundred other things that need doing before we worry about winter.” Carl huffed. “Just seems like this is the chore farthest away from everybody else…”

Daryl’s neck straightened, and he squinted. “You tryin’ to be an asshole today? Because you’re doing a good job—“

“It’s Carol, right?” Carl interrupted. “Who you’re avoiding?”

Whatever Daryl had been about to say, it went mute, and he stared at Carl with his mouth open cartoonishly. He recovered quickly, blinked, and scoffed, going back to the ax.

“Stupid.”

“Bullshit,” Carl called out. “I’m not asking for the novel here, but that’s it, right? She’s moving on, and you’re—“

“From what?” Daryl tilted his head dangerously. “Moving on from what? Bein’ out there,” he threw a wild gesture to the wall. “Bein’ scared all the time, feelin’ like…”

Carl was unfazed. Daryl could huff and puff all he wanted; he didn’t intimidate Carl like he intimidated the Alexandrians. He wasn’t getting off that easily.

“She’s with Tobin,” Carl said flatly. “I don’t know what kind of ‘with,’ but it’s something.”

“Ain’t nobody’s business,” Daryl grumbled.

“Look, we all get it.” At Daryl’s comically shocked face, Carl smirked. “Dude, everybody in our group has known for a while about…You and Carol are close, at least you were until we got here…”

Daryl pointed toward the town. “She is doing her own thing. She deserves to be happy and for somebody to…to make her happy, and if it’s with him, then fine—“

“But she’s not happy. Of course she deserves to be, but she’s not okay, Daryl.” Carl frowned. “Tobin’s a great guy, but he’s not…”

He let the statement hang, but they both heard what he meant. Tobin wasn’t Daryl. Tobin didn’t know Carol the way Daryl did, know all her feelings and thoughts, couldn’t read her or help her like she needed. Maybe that was why she was getting with him. He was a blank slate, with no history to judge her by.

Daryl looked wrongfooted. “Whatever. Think we missed that window—“

“Fuck that,” Carl snapped hard enough that Daryl stared at him. “Only way that window is ever closed is if one of you is dead. So you can beat up on some wood blocks until you’re blue in the face, but you can’t stand by and do nothing and then get mad that nothing is happening.”

The fight seemed to sizzle out of Daryl, and he visibly deflated a bit.

Their group had never really had to define what Carol and Daryl were to each other. They just…were. None of them had ever anticipated a third party getting between them. The only person who ever attempted was Axel, and none of them had taken that seriously.

Now, there it was, and here they were.

Suddenly the tough, invincible Daryl that Carl had known for the past two years wasn’t so tough and invincible in the face of this. It was weird to see him this way. And again, Carl had watched him fight a raccoon with his bare hands.

“Hey,” he started, more gently than before. “If it means anything, we’ve all been rooting for you since the farm.”

Daryl’s eyes widened, then he snorted and looked away.

Carl relaxed a bit to see his friend finally crack a smirk.

This kind of stuff was scary. Carl was slowly realizing that things like feelings and relationships could be scarier than any walkers or enemies out there. He used to assume that the grown ups at least had their shit together and knew what they were doing. That illusion had been ripped apart pretty quickly after the Turn, but it was still strange to see adults like his mom, his dad, and Daryl struggle in such a relatable way.

Daryl shook his head and spoke to the ground. “Yeah, that helps a little.”

“Got a better idea of how to spend the afternoon than punishing a chopping block,” Carl prompted, nodding toward the stuck ax. “You could teach me to use the crossbow. I think my arms are long enough now.”

Daryl eyed him, snorted, and put his hands on his hips. “Reckon they are, but I’m gonna raincheck that. Gotta go…gonna go…take care of somethin’…”

He made a vague gesture and walked away, toward the front of the house. Carl watched him go, sighed, and eyed the impressive pile of wood, all ready for burning and keeping the harsh New England winter at bay.

…It was July for shit’s sake.