so seeing her like this must have quite an effect on him

Sheriff Knows Best

Stiles/Derek, G, 2K words, Sheriff POV, Coffeeshop AU, matchmaker!Sheriff

(Credit for the title to @cobrilee!)

This is an expansion of the following idea, written by the lovely @artemis69:

the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. And one day the Sheriff learns that Derek is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this will be my son in law, I need a reason to have this man in my family for at least forty to fifty years. Then he matchmakes with no subtility whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just amazingly cute)

John’s on his regular morning stroll when he stops in his tracks and takes in the brand-new coffee shop, complete with a banner advertising their opening day. The little corner space has been boarded up for over a year, and John had no idea it was opening today.

Any new businesses are a boon for Beacon Hills, especially family-run ones like this one is rumored to be, so John ducks inside. It’s warm and homey, and there’s a pair of young dark-haired people behind the counter, close enough in features that they’re probably siblings. The quiet bickering points that direction, too.

They stop, though, when they see the Sheriff—the uniform tends to have that effect—and he pastes on his public servant smile. “Hi there. I saw this place was open and wanted to come on in and introduce myself. Sheriff John Stilinski.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman says, holding out her hand for a shake. A nice strong grip—John likes this girl already. “I’m Laura Hale, and I own this place with my brother Derek, our resident grumpy barista-slash-baker.”

Derek rolls his eyes at Laura, but his smile to John is genuine, if small. “Hi, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, son,” he says, perusing the case full of tempting sugary treats. “You made these?”

He nods. “Can I get you anything?”

John hums. “A medium coffee, and…any one of these delicious-looking goodies. You pick. Just don’t tell my son,” he adds, and Derek looks up at him.

“Your son?”

“I have slightly elevated cholesterol,” he says, stressing the word. “Nothing to worry about, honestly. But he polices my diet. I don’t think he knows about this place yet, though, so this is great.”

Derek hums. His tongs hover over a muffin—lemon poppyseed, it looks like—before moving to another one. Raspberry-almond, according to the sign, and well, John isn’t picky. Derek drops it into a little bag and hands it over.

“Happy to help,” he says.

John thanks him and opens the bag. Laura’s still pouring his coffee, but it smells so damn good that he can’t resist.

“Wow,” he says, his mouth full. “This is delicious.”

Derek looks quietly proud, and Laura claps him on the shoulder as she reaches over to hand John his coffee. “On the house, today, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.


“Thanks, Nina,” John says dryly, leaning back so she can put his plate in front of him.

“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” she says with a friendly smile, ignoring his stink eye.

Stiles just grins at both of them and digs into his French toast. He insists on having their weekly father-son breakfast at Paulie’s Diner because no matter what John orders, Nina will only bring him an egg-white omelet with a dry English muffin. Stiles must have some serious blackmail or be paying her off somehow, and John is, he has to admit, grudgingly impressed.

“Don’t look so bummed out, Pops,” Stiles says, around a mouthful of what’s surely syrup-drenched deliciousness. “At least I let you have turkey bacon.”

“It’s not the same,” he says grumpily, poking at it. “But at least I’m getting a steady stream of baked goods now.”

Stiles glares at him. “Are you serious? From where? I thought I had paid everyone off.”

He knew it. “I’m not telling you,” he says, a little displeased with how childish he sounds.

“Fine,” Stiles says, sniffing. “I’ll figure it out, you know I will.”

He will, John knows. Goddamn, he loves his kid, even if his life goal seems to be depriving John from any and all delicious food. “And speaking of, I met someone the other day,” he starts, and Stiles gasps theatrically, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Is this you crapping all over my dream of having Melissa as my stepmom?”

John sighs at the reminder. Melissa is…well, she seems happy with that Argent guy. Whatever. He’s not bitter.

“Not for me, Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “For you.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, slumping back in the booth. “Eye roll” is too mild, John thinks. It’s more of a whole head roll. “Seriously, Dad, I’m only 25. You don’t have to marry me off quite yet. You’ll get your grandchildren someday, I promise. Stop trying to set me up with people.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful!” John protests. “He seems nice.”

And makes really good treats, he adds in his head. That’ll be a good trait for a son-in-law.

“And who exactly is he?”

John pauses. “I met him at the aforementioned undisclosed location.” 

Stiles snorts. “Find out if he actually likes dudes, then get back to me.”

“Okay,” he says seriously, and Stiles grimaces.

“No, Dad, don’t actually—”

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for @thegeekindenial @statisticallymorelikely because reasons

thank you @mad-madam-m @paintedlandscape for quick read thru ^_^

Derek turns into a cat on a Tuesday.

There’s nothing unusual about this particular Tuesday. He wakes up in the abandoned warehouse he’d claimed in North Carolina, on top of an old flea-bitten mattress, and he’s wallowing in his usual morning routine of self-doubt and questioning his life choices. It isn’t until he realizes the sad, pitiful meowing is not coming from the feral cats he tries to feed with what meager income he can get doing odd jobs, but is in fact, coming from himself.

He is a cat. 

Derek takes stock of the situation. This must be that witch he met yesterday; he’d politely asked her to move on from this town because her anti-aging potions were giving the neighborhood ladies glow-in-the-dark hair and it wouldn’t be long until she attracted attention– of the local supernatural enforcement kind, meaning packs, meaning emissaries, meaning Derek would have to move on. Yet again. She’d shot some spells at him, ruined his favorite leather jacket, and chased him through the woods where there were a startling amount of hidden cameras. Derek then had to avoid several bungling FBI agents and led them on a merry chase through the woods until losing them, then he headed back to town.

The worst part was that whatever spell it was, Derek couldn’t shift into a wolf. He’d forgotten about it once he got to safety, and there didn’t seem to be any other effects of the spell, but…

Yeah. Four legs. Tail. He’s fluffy. And small.

He should have just stayed in South America. 

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Go Yuuri Go!!! staff comments

Translated by the amazing aki_the_geek on Twitter!

Please visit her account for more!

Katsuki Yuuri

Yamamoto: Many of YoI’s skaters were inspired by real-life people, and Yuuri is no exception.
In Yuuri’s case, I’ve heard about someone who is usually timid, lacks confidence and believes to be mentally weak, but once he steps on ice, turns into a competitive skater who wants the audience, the judges, and the viewers from all over the world to   look only at them. I found it to be a really interesting mentality and that’s where I got my idea for Yuuri from.
This Yuuri stands at the edge of the proverbial cliff - and then changes through his meeting with his hero and rival, Viktor. Thanks to this meeting, Yuuri himself starts reaching for more and more, grows stronger.
I find relationships with labels like “lovers” or “family” to be stifling, so I came up with these two characters that are not bound by names like that, who hold each other dear and who share a bond that would be difficult to replace.
As a skater Yuuri has an individual sense of rhythm, his steps his unique weapon, but even on a solid ground, he’s a great dancer. When he was young, Minako-sensei taught Yuuri the basics of ballet, and, as Viktor praises him highly, his skating feels like he is creating music with his body - it moves into dance on its own as he charms his audience.

Kubo: Yuuri is the kinda type of a glass-wearing character I draw often. (laughs) Many skaters have bad eyesight, and Yuuri too skates without his glasses. I though people would love the narrow-eyed, uneasy face he makes when trying to read his score, so I added that element, too.
I aimed for a design that would be easy for Hiramatsu to draw, so instead of deciding every detail, I drew a base that would later spring to life under Hiramatsu’s hands.
“Change” is an important aspect of Yuuri, so I gave him a seemingly ordinary appearance instead of making an easy-to-get pretty boy.
Yuuri is slightly taller than a typical Japanese person - that’s because both the director and I are around 165-170cm, and we though it’d be nice if he was taller than us. Yuuri’s eyebrows are in a  slanted ハ shape, but turn sharp when he competes. Things that are easier to explain via animation, like Yuuri’s hair growing longer as the show progresses, are also present.

Hiramatsu: I made sure he looks different during his chubby and slim phases. His best body shape would be right after “Onsen on Ice”.
We based Yuuri on a typical Japanese body: he doesn’t have long legs, wide shoulders or a spectacular butt, but going with Kubo’s drawings, I gave him long arms and bony hands. Yuuri grows about 10cm taller when he dons his skating shoes, which makes his legs look longer. Yuuri’s Japanese silhouette was influenced by Yasuhiko’s style, who was in charge of many of his scenes.

Viktor Nikiforov

Yamamoto: I think, surprisingly, there are many people like Viktor in the skating world (laughs). Viktor doesn’t care about what people around him think of him, he thinks it’s obvious that he is the center of all the attention. Viktor acts as he pleases and through it, he believes he brings joy to others.
I love it when characters like him appear out of the blue. In this case, Yuuri is the cause of Viktor’s sudden appearance. Yuuri barged into Viktor’s world that he closed himself in without noticing, believing he has to create all the new surprises. Yuuri offered Viktor a possibility he hadn’t thought about - becoming someone’s coach.
Unconsciously, Viktor is lonely, without anyone of similar circumstances, without anyone he could empathize together with. Viktor didn’t yearn for someone to understand him; he didn’t see it as a problem, but also didn’t realize how lonely he was. Yuuri is not the only one who became stronger by experiencing love - through Yuuri, Viktor learned new feelings and grew stronger.

Kubo: I challenged myself to create a character everyone would look at and find handsome, moreso than in my previous works. Viktor’s hair is silver, with some lighter streaks. At first I also thought about giving him a hair that looks silver, but once you see it from up close, turns out to be blond hair with many streaks of white hair. However, I couldn’t find enough information on how white hair grows on blondes so I gave up (laughs).
Thinking of balancing his height with Yuuri’s when they stand next to each other, I made Viktor slightly taller. I wanted Viktor’s face to be recognizable in gag scenes and so gave him a heart-shaped mouth. This is something straight out of the shojo manga era of “Tokimeki Tonight” or “Ohayo! Spank” (laughs).
I wanted there to be something unexpected in contrast to Viktor’s usual handsomeness. That aspect of him where he worries about his receding hairline, you know, where it goes slightly above the sweet spot? I wanted the viewers to watch it with a beating heart and confuse that feeling with falling in love. A suspension bridge effect. (haha)
I took heaps of inspiration for Viktor’s sexiness from Stephane Lambiel.

Hiramatsu: I paid attention to the flow and quality of his hair - and same goes for Yurio. Viktor’s eyebrows are straight, rarely ever turn into a mountain-like shape. Viktor’s posture is beautiful and adds to his brilliance; he sports a magnificent butt and long limbs.
Viktor has a confidence of an adult, but as someone still in his 20s, he can be quite childish. Viktor’s heart-shaped mouth was there in Kubo’s storyboards, which influenced the staff to emphasize that in the show.

Yuri Plisetsky

Yamamoto: Russia is a country where skating can change your life - the country supports its strong skaters. When I learned that some families bet on their children or grandchildren becoming famous and make them learn skating  I thought there must be many children with unrelenting spirit and a will to climb up - and created a deformed version of that in a form of a Russian badboy.
Yurio has many lines with swears, but there’s one in ep 10 that angered Viktor when Yurio implied he is now looking after a “pig”. This line goes back to my 20s - whenever I saw a pair wearing matching rings I’d think, “A pair of pigs tied with rings” (laughs). When I mentioned it to Kubo, she was like “Pigs! That’s good!” and we decided to put it in. Yurio is the only one with a potty mouth in the series, so coming up with his bad boy lines was fun.
Many growing skaters probably understand what Yurio said when he mentioned his time in his current body grows short. Girls change a lot during that period, but boys too have their muscles grow - it’s a big burden on the body that makes it impossible to perform some moves. We tried to put as many things that Yurio can only do now as we could into the show.

Kubo: There are many elements to Yurio’s design that make him popular, such as blond hair and blue eyes. He really does stand out. Looks-wise Yurio is probably most similar to Rabi from Madō King Granzort.
To quote the director, there are many elements from different skaters in Yurio. The base inspiration was Yulia Lipnitskaya. When I saw her at the rink, I realized there are many different kinds of skaters and that a more mischievous character could work too.
Yurio’s visuals were decided on early, earlier than Yuuri’s, as he is very anime-like, easy to animate. As story progresses, Yurio’s hair grows longer. I wanted to express how, when you haven’t seen him for a while, Yurio grows more and  more beautiful. Is it Lilia who styles his hair, or is it Yurio himself?

Hiramatsu: Half of his face is covered with hair, which strengthens his expressions. It was fun to give emotions to that slightly visible eye. Yurio’s body is slim, girlish, with long limbs and not much muscle.
I draw him as I would draw a girl. His looks were heavily influenced by Tatenaka’s style, who was in charge of many scenes as well as the skating of our model Honoka Kawanishi. Yurio has a potential to grow, outgrowing Yuuri and reaching 180cm or so.

Christophe Giacometti

Yamamoto: I wanted to create a character who would share popularity with Viktor, a character overflowing with masculine charm. I wanted Chris to have this showy sexiness in him like an ice dancer, so he’s one of the taller single skaters in the series. It was so difficult to show a sexy man type of a character, as there aren’t many visual symbols associated with it. I am hoping to one day establish a new frontier of male sexiness.

Hiramatsu: Chris has a sturdy body, and the most emphasized butt in the whole series. I poured all of my drawing skills into that scene where Chris grabs and lifts his butt while skating. (laughs) Until halfway both his arms and butt are raised, and then arms go up, butt goes down, which is how I showed the butt’s bounciness.

Phichit Chulanont

Yamamoto: Yuuri is friends with Phichit because even if Yuuri doesn’t go to him, Phichit will come to Yuuri on his own. Yuuri doesn’t have to be suspicious of Phichit’s motives and he doesn’t show customary concern over him like Japanese people do which in turn is less stressful for Yuuri.

Jean-Jacques Leroy

Yamamoto: I created JJ because I wanted a character type that falls into a “mentally a musclehead” category. JJ entered Toronto University as a top student, off season participates in charity activities. His girlfriend is his HS classmate, but as a devout Christian, premarital sex is a no-no - they’re in a pure relationship.
He often says JJ this, JJ that in conversations and in general only talks about himself. Even if he nods with understanding as someone speaks, he soon butts in and changes the topic to himself.
JJ talked to Otabek in ep10 because he found it sad that his old rinkmate was alone - couldn’t leave him out of kindness of his heart. Even when people find him overbearing, JJ believes he is doing a good deed, so it doesn’t bother him.

Hiramatsu: JJ could be considered a good catch if he just shut up. (laughs)

Otabek Altin

Yamamoto: First, I wanted a Kazakh skater to be a dark horse of the GPF and that’s how Otabek was born. There are many Russians in Kazakhstan and Russian is the official language so I thought Otabek could easily be friends with Yurio. Some Kazakh skaters are known to train in Russia, so the bit where Otabek participated in Yakov’s camp and became fascinated with Yurio came to me naturally. We created many qualities that Yurio finds cool in Otabek outside of skating  - such as riding a bike and DJing. 

Lee Seunggil

Yamamoto: All Seung-Gil does is training, and has no interest in things beyond skating. To create a contrast with his personality, for his SP, I went with a passionate mambo. The idea to have him count his score as he skates during competition came from Kubo.

Hiramatsu: Because of his personality, I always draw him alone in the back of group images, but he still looks into the camera. (laughs)

Michele Crispino

Yamamoto: To protect his sis, Michele tries to be threatening to scare off others. This doesn’t work on Emil, so they’re on good terms. 

Kubo: As an Italian who cares about appearance, I made him look like he visits a hairdresser once every two weeks. But I also wanted to add something non-Italian to him, hence the pretty dark personality.

Hiramatsu: Michele also would be a good catch if he shut up.

Emil Nekola

Yamamoto: Emil is rarely scared and there is nothing two-faced about his personality; he doesn’t feel too down when he makes mistakes which means he can still grow and become strong.

Kubo: I googled “Czech, male” and based Emil on one of the first pictures I found. At the beginning Yamamoto was talking about making Emil the most handsome out of the European skaters, but I completely forgot. (haha)

Unrequited

Summary: As a teenager you’d been best friends with Sam Winchester, particularly since your mother and his father hunted together whenever they felt they needed backup. But then you’d moved country, and all interactions with the Winchesters were of the non-physical kind. So when they call on you for backup, you jump at the chance to see your best friend again, not to mention see his big brother, on who you’d had a mild crush on.
The hunt goes well, the rest of the evening, however, doesn’t exactly go your way.  
Pairing
: Alpha!DeanxOmega!Reader
Words
: 3963
Warnings
: A/B/O Dynamics. Smut.
AN: This was an Anon Request! I’m quite pleased with this one, and kinda tempted to write a sequel… let me know what you think of that idea!!!
Constructive Criticism Welcome!!!

***

Your phone started ringing for the third time in a row, and you couldn’t suppress your exasperated groan as you tugged a sweatshirt over your wet hair and damp skin. Snatching it up off the scuff-marked plastic table you chanced a quick glance at the caller ID before answering.

Sam Winchester.

Of course.

“You better have a damn good reason for disturbing my day off, Winchester,” you teased, tucking the mobile between your shoulder and ear so you could return to the damp towel you’d tossed onto the bed and set about drying your hair more thoroughly. The bastard knew you were taking a day to pamper yourself, yet still decided to drive you mad with your own ringtone. How very rude of him.

On the end of the line, Sam just chuckled, and you could just picture him shaking his head slightly in amusement.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughed, but you could detect genuine regret in his voice. “It’s just that I know you’re nearby, and me and Dean could use an extra pair of hands on this one. Dean will hate me when he finds out I rang… he doesn’t like thinking there are more Vamps than we can handle,” he said. A faint scraping sound in the background suggested that he’d just taken a seat, too.

As you once again dropped the towel onto your bed in favour of your hairbrush, you let out an amused titter. “Certainly sounds like Dean,” you mused, “sounds like he’s well on his way to becoming one of those stereotypical stubborn Alphas you get on TV.”

Once again, you heard the distinctive rumble of Sam laughing. That was when a thought hit you, and your face lit up in a smile so broad that your cheeks actually hurt.

“Hold up… does-does that mean I actually get to see you guys? And I mean see you, not just skype or a screen-shared movie?”

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Why I can’t and won’t finish watching Iron Fist

Before anyone tries to jump down my throat about being a stupid SJW who only cares about the race angle, I would first like to point out that I enjoyed the hell out of Daredevil, another Marvel Netflix show starring a white man practicing Asian martial arts. It’s all in the execution, guys. And the execution here is garbage.

Let’s start with the martial arts. For the love of fuck, if you just HAVE to get a generic white man to play the lead, the least you could do was get one who was good at traditional martial arts. There are a lot of them. Charlie Cox, one Netflix recommendation over, pulls off some of the best fight scenes I have ever seen in a TV show (also, the man can act, so that helps too). Last month, I watched a red-belt student of mine in a local production of Macbeth. At twelve, that kid has more talent (in the acting and martial arts departments) than this Finn Jones tool.

Jessica Henwick’s form is nothing to write home about but at least she’s better than Jones. And both our action heroes would benefit greatly from some less shitty fight choreography and editing. (Guys, just adding loud ‘swoosh’ sound effects isn’t going to trick me into thinking the sword is swinging faster. I can see it).

To add insult to injury, the show condescendingly tries to make me believe that this pasty-ass piece of mediocrity is a better martial artist than Colleen Wing?? Just has him casually trounce her in her own dojo. With those wibbly-wobbly stances, son? I don’t think so. This is not real life, nor is it good fiction. This is some flabby-ass white guy’s jerk-off fantasy of being super awesome and showing up the hot Asian chick without any understanding martial arts whatsoever.

The acting in this show ranges from serviceable to painfully inept (lookin’ at you Meachum Jr. or whatever the fuck your name is, I’ll have forgotten your whole existence by tomorrow for all the impression you leave). Even the competent performances in this show only serve to remind me of more interesting characters from Netflix’s other Marvel shows. For example, Jessica Stroup’s acting is similar to Deborah Ann Woll’s performance as Karen Page, only serving to remind me that Karen Page alone is a more interesting character with more compelling scenes than half the cast of Iron Fist put together.

I will say that Colleen Wing is quite appealing and I applaud Henwick for making her both tough and charming, not an easy line to walk. If I wanted to be mean, I could point out that she is essentially just a Claire Temple 2.0 in terms of her temperament and her role as shelter and support to the Main White Guy at the point of her introduction. But I don’t actually want to pick on Colleen. She’s cute and I like her.

Now, back to being mean: STOP trying to make white characters look cool by having them speak Chinese (or any language they can’t speak for that matter, though I feel Mandarin generally gets a special kind of mangling for the crime of being a tonal language). It doesn’t sound cool. I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, guys. It makes you sound like a fucking idiot. Okay, sure, maybe you succeeded in making your white English-speaking audience think, ‘yeah, that’s really cool, he must be super smart and badass, I want to be like that.’ But White people, I am telling you this for your own good: you don’t want to be like that. Because as cool as that butchered-ass Mandarin may sound to you, it’s like a band-saw to my eardrums. It brings everything to a cringing, teeth-grinding halt in the middle of what might otherwise be a perfectly good scene. Remember when Wilson Fisk had a conversation with Madame Gao in ‘Mandarin’? That was the worst part of Netflix’s Daredevil. Worse, it made me embarrassed for an actor I greatly admire. So, to whoever decided it was a great idea to have Wilson Fisk show off his Mandarin, thanks dickhead. You wrecked an entire scene for my favorite Marvel villain.

Oh yeah, and if any of you want to try to tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about, fucking come at me bro. I have a black belt and 10+ years of training in traditional martial arts. I am a Chinese-American woman, proficient in Japanese and Mandarin, and I double majored in East Asian History and Buddhist studies.

Oh, did I mention that our protagonist keeps condescendingly spouting mystical pseudo-Buddhist bullshit to everyone he meets? And then throws temper tantrums when they (shock!) don’t take him seriously? God, I hate this show.

If I want to see better acting, I can go see a middle school play. If I want to see better fighting, I can go to the dojo and watch my seven-year-old green belts spar. If I want to hear Buddhist philosophy mangled by self-impressed white people, I can go to the yoga studio next door. 

See You Soon | Yoongi

Summary: In which you live in a world where one stroke of a pen against your skin is a signage of forever, and Min Yoongi just has really good timing
Genre: Fluff with a touch of Angst, Soulmate!AU where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker, it will show up on your soulmate’s skin as well
Word Count: 7,276
Author’s Note: I have officially joined the Soulmate!AU train of writers, and I hope this is worthy enough for that title. The original story was meant to be super short and super sweet, but of course I just kept adding more and more ideas into this and… this is the end result. Little warning, it is mainly Yoongi/Reader with a side of Jungkook/Reader so… take that as you will. 

.

The first time images appear on your skin, you are 12 and have absolutely no idea why. Questions spring up in your mind like wildfire—alarming and so completely out of your control that you perform what could only be politely labeled as a scream before you dash to the bathroom, rubbing roughly at the skin of your arm until the flesh turns bright red. The marks, however, do not fade away.

Taking in a few sharp inhales, you collect your thoughts long enough to carefully study the marks that have been embedded into your skin—ink underneath the flesh that you carefully run your finger across. The end product looks to be a night sky along your forearm. There is a half-crescent moon and lazy stars dancing across the way; twinkling lines and hazy shapes and thick lines like they had been drawn with a sharpie.

For some odd reason, the longer you stare at the drawing, you don’t feel the panic settling back into your nerves. Rather, you feel more calm, peaceful, as if staring at the face of familiarity, like these drawings of half-crescent moons and 6 pointed stars genuinely mean something to you. Or at least, they hold enough significance that you don’t scream or continue trying to rub away the spots.

Your mother comes bounding into the room shortly after, startled by your scream until she sees the source of your apprehension and her lips curl up into a soft and understanding smile. It is right then and there, when she takes your arm, soothingly running her thumb up and down the expanse of the night sky that she spins the narrative of fate, destiny, and the universe.

She tells you that the moment people are born, they are instantly bound with another, tied together by some predetermined string, gifting you with someone you are meant to spend the rest of your life with. Someone who fit against every curve, someone who loved you in every aspect no matter what. Someone who would look at you, and you could just feel the weight of their stares like none other—set all your nerves on fire with just a single touch, leave you knowing without a doubt that that person was the one you were meant to spend your life with.

Your soulmate. Your other half.

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Kaneki and Toukas child will live

(DISCLAIMER: This is my own opinion regarding the survivability of Kaneki and Toukas child. There’s no actual proof that anything i’m saying is in fact true, and there’s a possibility Ishida might just punch me in the gut and prove me wrong.)

Following the release of the latest chapter of Tokyo Ghoul:re, chapter 129, we receive confirmation that Touka is indeed pregnant, and with Kaneki as the father, the child is either a half-ghoul or half-human (im working on a meta on the genetic implications which ill post later on). While everyone has been theorizing about the possibility of a pregnancy since Ishida’s drawing of Touka with a bloody belly and the burnt-womb poem; having finally received its validation, the fandom seems sure of one thing: the baby will die. Whether it will be through a natural miscarriage or during some kind of combat, the baby will certainly die. And with reason, after all, its our first time experiencing a ghoul pregnancy,of a hybrid nonetheless, and considering what we know (the ghoul mother absorbs the child, the child dies of malnutrition,etc), there’s no hope for the baby. And yet, here I am,saying that I believe the child will live. Why? Well for various reasons:

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Replaceable Part 3!!

Lance was woken by the sound of the castle alarms blaring. He quickly rolled out of his bed and put on his armor. He took a quick look in the mirror to see how he looked. He is eyes were still puffy and red from all the crying, but if any of the others asked, he could simply blame it on the sleep. Running his fingers through his hair to make it look presentable, he took a final glance at his reflection and ran to along to the pounding sound of the alarms. Lance reached the room just as Hunk was. Hunk sent him a small smile, in which he returned. His smile quickly fell however when he turned to look at Keith, who was clearly trying to ignore him, not even looking in his direction. Lance swallowed around the lump in his throat. *No. No more crying.* Allura clapped her hands together, getting the attention of the team. “Okay, Paladins! We’ll be arriving on the planet in just a few ticks, so just a quick reminder that this alliance is very crucial to Voltron and stopping Zarkon. Everyone must be on their best behavior! We have to make sure that we secure this alliance, no matter what!” *Oh yeah…* Lance thought. *I completely forgot about the alliance..* “Princess, we are now landing!” “Thank you, Coran. Alright Paladins! Let’s greet our, hopefully, new alliances!” As Lance stepped onto the foreign planet, he looked around in awe. It was beautiful here. There were enormous, strange looking buildings that looked like skyscrapers. The planet reminded him of New York, only there was a peaceful, calm aura surrounding the place. It was clear to see that this alien race was very civilized and advanced with technology, which also meant weaponry. They would definitely be a powerful ally for Voltron and the fight against Zarkon. Allura led them to a large building that resembled a mansion, but it appeared to be made out of an iridescent, chrome material. Coran stepped forward. “It’s made out of a material that’s virtually indestructible. And you may have noticed that you can’t see into the building, but once you are in the inside, you can see the outside. I believe you have something similar on Earth. Two-way mirror is it?” Pidge nodded with her mouth hung open while the other paladins looked around in awe. “It’s beautiful.” Shiro murmured. Lance nodded in agreement. He could feel the excitement bubble up inside him as they drew nearer to the entrance. When they entered the building, Lance was not disappointed. It appeared as though there was some sort of celebration going on. Hundreds of chandeliers made out of glowing blue crystals hung from the ceiling, creating a soft blue hue to light up the room, giving a calming effect. Rows and rows of tables were lined up, displaying an endless buffet of food Lance had never seen before. The aliens there were all dressed in various ball gowns, some of which seemed to sparkle like it was made entirely out of crystals and jewels. And there was music softly playing in the background. Everything was breathtakingly beautiful. One of the older looking aliens recognized them and walked over to Allura. “Ah, hello Princess Allura. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Allura bowed deeply. “The pleasures all mine, Queen Lilith. I would like the introduce my Paladins, the team of Voltron.” The Queen’s eyes shined as she gazed at them. “Yes, yes! I would like to thank you for everything you have done so far. The task you have been assigned is very challenging and dangerous. It is quite impressive the things you have accomplished.” The Queen turned to Allura. “Now, I do believe we have business matters to discuss. Paladins, please enjoy yourselves. This party was thrown for you after all.” The team sheepishly gave their thanks. Lance turned to the party, eyes alight. *Finally, time to relax and have some fun!*
~~~~~
Everything was going amazingly. Lance’s belly was stuffed with delicious food, everyone he talked to was incredibly respectful and kind. He was…happy. He smiled genuinely for the first time in what a felt like a very long time. Everything was going perfect. That was until he talked to Hunk. Lance noticed Hunk talking to a trio of female aliens who were all wearing elegant gowns. They were all giggling as Hunk was flushed red and rubbing the back of his neck. Lance knew that look. Hunk was uncomfortable. What kind of friend would he be if he didn’t come in the save the day for his best bud, his right hand man? So, Lance made his way to them. “So, what are you lovely ladies doing this fine evening?” One of them turned and giggled. “Oh, we were just asking Hunk here about his adventures as a Paladin.” The alien let her hand trail down Hunk’s arm. “He’s very strong and brave. And quite cute if I’m being completely honest.” The others around them giggled in agreement. Lance chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news ladies, but Hunk right here.” He threw an arm around Hunk’s shoulders. “He’s already a taken man.” Lance felt Hunk stiffen underneath his arm. “Lance, what are you-” “And who is the lucky lady to have such a handsome defender of the universe?” One of the girls pouted. “Well beautiful, that would be one rock hard gal by the name of Shay. You see, from the first time Hunk looked at her, he was smitten. You should of heard him-” “Lance, can I talk to you for a second?” Hunk interrupted. Before Lance could reply, Hunk dragged him away from the group, and to a secluded corner. “Hey, what’s up buddy?” Lance grinned. “Don’t ‘buddy’ me.” His smile fell. “What was that all about?!” “Wha-what?” “Who gave you the right to just start running your mouth about my feelings or relationships?” Lance slowly took a step back. “I-I’m sorry, Hunk. You just looked uncomfortable and I thought-” “No. That’s just it. You didn’t think at all.” Hunk gave him a hard look. “Did you ever think how that made me feel? Lance, that was embarrassing! Shay and I aren’t even dating, and the only reason I told you that I liked her is because you’re supposed to be my best friend!” “Hunk, I am your best friend!” “A best friend wouldn’t just spill out the inner most secrets to compete strangers! I thought I could trust you. I guess I was wrong.” Lance could feel the familiar heat behind his eyes. “H-Hunk..” “Just leave me alone, Lance. And just try to think of others feelings before you think of yourself. And stop trying to 'help’ me. You’ve done enough 'helping’ already.” With that, Hunk turned and left. Lance stood frozen, unmoving. Feeling the heat increase and the water beginning to form in his eyes, he quickly left. He had to get out of there. He couldn’t cry in front of these people, he would just ruin the alliance. *Just like I ruin everything else. But where could I go?* Then, someone was calling to him in his mind. *Blue.* Lance ran back to the castle, avoiding his teammates. He couldn’t let them see him like this. When he got to Blue’s hangar, he could already feel himself starting to crumble. The dam behind his eyes cracked and the tears began to flow. He ran to Blue as she lowered her head and open her mouth for him to enter. Lance threw himself into the pilot chair, drawing his knees to his chest and allowing the tears to flow freely. “Blue, why do I have to mess up everything? I try to help, but I just end up making a bigger mess of things. I knew I didn’t belong here. I was never meant to be a paladin of Voltron. I’m just a weak, pathetic, excuse of a pilot. Keith was right. I’ll never be a true pilot of Voltron. All I am is a cargo pilot.” Lance muttered bitterly. Blue tried to send him comforting thoughts, reassuring him that he did belong and that she CHOSE him to be here paladin, but Lance ignored her, letting the grief and shame consume him.
~~~~~
Lance was still in the castle with Blue when he heard a thunderous crash outside, followed by several screams of panic. He ran to the nearest window to see what caused the commotion. When Lance glanced toward the sky, he gaped at what he saw. A large Galra ship was hovering in the air, and it suddenly projected a hologram of a scarred, angry Galra. “Paladins of Voltron, I am here in behalf of Zarkon. We know you’re here! If you do not reveal yourselves, this planet will perish.” Lance watched as Hunk, Pidge, Keith, and Shiro ran outside the building, facing the hologram. “Ah, there you are.” “What do you want from us!?” Shiro shouted. “Hmmm..I actually have a deal to offer.” *A deal..what could he possibly have to offer that would interest us?* Lance pondered. “Do not think we haven’t noticed that you have stolen information from our database, but what caught my attention was what you specifically searched. It appears that you are looking for your fellow species, one that shares DNA to the Green paladin.” Lance gasped as he saw Pidge pale. “Where are they?! What do you know?! TELL ME!!!” Pidge screamed. “Haha, be patient gremlin. We do have the information about these humans you are looking for, possibly even their coordinates. But in exchange for your the information, you have to prove your strength to me and pry the information from myself. Let me see the strength a member of Voltron has.” The others sneered and shouted at the Galra while Lance set his jaw. He knew what he had to do.
~~~~~~
“I’m going.” “No Shiro, if you go, who’ll lead Voltron? There’s a very high chance that whoever goes will not come back alive.” “It’s either I’m going, or no one is going, and that’s final.” The team was still arguing when they were caught off guard by thunderous laughter. “Ahahaha!! It appears we have a challenger!” The team whip around, just in time to see the Blue lion headed straight toward the ship. The Glara ship begins to take off, the Blue lion right on its tail. “LANCE!!” The team ran after them, but they were slowly losing ground. Shiro quickly turned on his communications in his helmet, allowing the others to hear. “Lance! Lance! Do you copy?!” “I hear you loud and clear, Cap!” “Lance, what the quiznak do you think you’re doing?! Get back here right now! That’s an order!!” “Sorry Shiro, but I can’t do that. I’m getting that info.” “Lance, you can’t do this; it’s a suicide mission!!” Shiro screamed desperately. “That’s okay Shiro. I’ll do whatever I can to help my team, especially if it’s concerning their family. I may never get to mine again, so if there is a chance that I can help any of you get back with your family, I’ll always step up to the plate. It’s time that I tried to do something right, instead of being a disappointment to the team and ruining everything. Besides.” Lance chuckles weakly and let’s a few more tears escape, dripping off his chin onto the control panel. “I’m replaceable.”

Tantalizing: 03

Originally posted by jikookfantasy

Tantalizing: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08
Ship: Jungkook | Reader
Description: Back in high school, you were nothing more than a nerd Jungkook wanted to deflower, to get a good fuck from. When he sees you at the club, though, things have changed drastically, and his dominance starts to teeter on the edge.
Warning: Sub!Jungkook, Sex Toy, Masturbation, Handjob, Oral, Degrading Names, Film, Exhibitionism, Blindfold, Hair Pulling
Word Count: 7,243

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The Divide Series: Shape Of You

A/N: A few of you have been asking for some body positivity - here it is, my friends. Dedicated to all of our lovely bodies. xx



You had spent all day getting pampered.

Harry spared no effort—it was your first award show that you were ever going to, the first one after Harry and you started dating. It had been about four months and the media had just clued into the fact that the two of you were an item—meanwhile, Dunkirk had been nominated for an Oscar, which meant that Harry had a red carpet event to be at.

At first, you were hesitant to even show your face. You were an absolute stranger to all the fame that came along with being Harry Styles’s girlfriend, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to draw that much attention to yourself— but you knew how important this night was for him, and you needed to be there for support.

You spent hours that day getting your nails done, hair styled, and make-up applied. Harry had brought in all the best people to his home— Lou basically turned the entire living room of his house into a studio, alternating between you and Harry every couple of hours. The majority of her focus was on you, though, and you got the idea that she was excited to finally be able to have a lady to play around with and doll up.

You had picked out your dress about a month before— it was custom made for you, so you had to pick it out ahead of time so that it could be made and hemmed and fitted to your body type. Whereas Harry had settled on wearing a simple all-black suit, you picked out a brightly-colored dress that went well with your skin tone. It was what you were most excited for about the entire endeavour— the little girl inside of you felt like an absolute princess.

About two hours before you were due to be on the red carpet, you were finally all dolled up and ready to slip into your dress. Lou sent you upstairs to your bedroom to get dressed while she put the finishing touches on Harry’s short curls.

You practically skipped up the stairs, grinning ear to ear. You usually weren’t a fan of Harry pampering you this much, but it was a special event, and today had been a lot of fun— you usually were not the center of attention, and it was a nice experience to have. You hummed lightly as you walked into your closet and grabbed the custom-tailored dress from Harry’s closet that Lou had picked up on her way over that morning.

You set it down across Harry’s king-sized bed and undid the zipper of the cover that it came in— your heart skipped a beat with giddiness. You ran your fingers across the soft fabric and grinned, impatient to try it on.

You unbuttoned the shirt that you had been wearing that day and slipped off your shorts, along with your bra— the dress was tight enough on you that you didn’t need to wear a bra with it, which was a major bonus. You were almost dancing as you carefully slipped the dress off of the hanger and held it up in front of you, doing a little spin on the tips of your toes.

You unzipped the back of the dress and stepped into it— you pulled it up carefully and slowly. It was a little tight around your rear but you tugged it a bit harder and it slid over your bum, hugging your curves closely. You slipped your arms into the straps and reached behind you to grab onto the zipper at the bottom of your back, pulling upwards.

You stopped breathing, a nervous pang shooting through your chest.

The zipper wouldn’t go up.

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What not to say to people with eating disorders

This post is dedicated to those of you who know someone with an eating disorder. Are you afraid of saying something wrong, and want to know what you should and should not say?

(It is very long, and for that I apologise.)

Please read the post with respect. This applies to both patients and their family/friends. Remember that no one are perfect. The person with an eating disorder is not using her/his eating disorder as an excuse to “be difficult”, it is a real and severe problem for her/him! Just as important to note is that family and friends are not mind readers, and they are not mean. Knowing that someone you love and care about have a life threatening mental illness, is a terrible situation to be put in, and most parents will do ANYTHING in their power to save their child from illness and death.

Below is a list (with explanations) about what to say, or what not say, to a person with an eating disorder:

- Do not ask yes/no-questions. If you ask a question such as: Can’t you just eat this dinner?, the answer you receive will likely be no, and the conversation abruptly stops. The answer you receive might also be yes, but be a lie.

- Do not ask leading questions. If you ask: There is no way to make you eat this dinner, is it?, the answer will likely be no. Leading questions come with a huge disadvantage: The person can feel forced to lie. Because you are giving her/him an ultimatum, but the eating disorder does not allow this ultimatum to be realized. Please note: I am not saying that family and friends should “play along” with the eating disorder. But I am saying that if you directly oppose it, there is a high risk that you could make things worse (aka make the eating disorder stronger instead of weaker).

- Ask open questions. This is the way to go. As opposed to the two prior examples, you could ask: How are you doing right now? Why do you think this dinner is difficult for you? Are you afraid of something specific? Is there anything I can do to help?
As you can see, neither of these questions are yes/no-questions or leading questions. In other words, open questions like these will make room for honest answers. The person will feel safe that you simply want to help, and that you are trying to understand.
You should also be clear that it is fine if the person cannot, or does not want to, answer the question. Be clear that you just want to show her/him that you care. You can also add that the person can come back to you whenever she/he feels like it, and answer the question later.

- Do not say “I know EXACTLY how you feel!”. Because unless you have had an eating disorder yourself, it is very unlikely that you know that. Ask open questions instead.

- Do not comment on other people’s body or weight. First of all, this is bad manners and can be very impolite. Secondly, for a person with an eating disorder, body, weight, and appearance is by far the most difficult topic for conversation. Body, weight and appearance are topics that can, and should, be limited to treatment settings. Plus; there is a major chance that the person already knows what you think of her/his body.

- Do not say “You look better!”. This is a tricky one. Hard to understand, even for people with eating disorders (believe it or not).
Imagine this: You think you are chubby, overweight, or fat. In spite of this, your family and friends (sometimes also complete strangers) tells you over and over again that you need to gain at least 15 kilos/33 lbs. When you finally do gain, everyone are running in your direction to tell you that they can see you put on weight.
I doubt that would feel nice for any person, eating disordered or not. And this is my point here. Almost all people with eating disorders see themselves as fat/chubby/too big. It is also very common that they want to become healthy, and want to fully recover, but still do not want to gain any weight. You should avoid this comment because it confirms (indirectly, and wrongly too, of course) that the persons greatest fear of all has actually come true, they have now become even fatter, chubbier, or bigger.
It is very easy to understand why family and friends want to tell their beloved one that they look healthier! It is meant as a compliment, meant to be something mutually joyful.
It took me years to be able to handle this comment. Believe me, I have tried multiple times and failed. I tried to feel happy about it, I tried to block out the voice that translated “you look better” into “you are the most obese person on earth”, I tried to control my own reaction to make people happy. It always ended with a fake smile, and a bunch of chaos. And relapse. I have had an eating disorder for years, and it took me quite some time in recovery to be able to handle the comment as well. Before this happened, I had to overcome all the hatred I harbored against my body. 

- Do not comment on other people’s eating habits or -patterns. People with eating disorders are fully aware that they have different eating habits (or –patterns) than you, whether the difference lies in amounts or food types. First of all, the comment is unnecessary. Secondly, comments like these only contribute to the person feeling guilty: (S)he does not want to bother anyone, but now receives a clear message that that’s what (s)he does. Knowing that you worry people who love you, does not make the eating disorder loosen its grip. What it usually leads to, is the person wanting to eat alone or in secret, lie about food intake, or resort to purging/laxative abuse/(excessive) exercise. The same rule applies when/if the person eats what you think of as “too much” or “unhealthy”. Don’t bring it up. Just don’t. Leave the person alone.

- Do not talk about food during meals. I am not saying you should not express your joy over fabulous, tasty sauce/gravy. What I am saying is you should avoid saying things like: “I am so stuffed!”, “You must be very hungry!”, “Aren’t you having one more portion?”, “This is healthy!”, or “Nah, this is quite unhealthy!”. If the person actually tries to finish his/her dinner plate, you are transforming the effort into a house of cards: It could collapse any second.
If you say “this is healthy”, the person might experience trouble eating tomorrow’s dinner as it is “less healthy” (because it contains more carbohydrates, for example).
If you say “this is unhealthy”, you have potentially ruined dinner with immediate effect. In many cases, the person might resort to purging, (excessive) exercise, etc. to rid him-/herself of this “unhealthy” thing. The person might also “transfer” the unhealthy-label to many other food types similar to the one you just called unhealthy.
If you say “aren’t you having one more portion?” it could make the person stop because it is made very clear that (s)he has already consume one whole portion. (While portion sizes are unlimited in recovery, because (s)he needs all the energy (s)he can get.)
If you say “I am so stuffed!”, there is a chance that the person will make sure to eat just a fraction of the amount you eat. If eating less than you is too late, the person might resort to purging, (excessive) exercise, etc. to get rid of the “unnecessary” food.

- Do not talk about dieting, diets, healthy/unhealthy food, weight loss, or exercise. This is triggering to almost everyone. If you don’t feel too thin (to be “allowed” to do any of these things), why would a person with an eating disorder feel too thin? (This is how the illness works.) If you think you should diet, why shouldn’t the person with an eating disorder diet? It is very likely that the eating disordered person feels like (s)he is at least twice your size – even if YOU are twice HER/HIS size, for that matter. Be careful!

- Do not assume you need to tell other people what they are doing. It is not your duty, it is none of your business, and you are not the first one to point out what they are doing either. Most patients, no matter what illness/condition they suffer from, receive well-meant advice every single day. Sometimes even from people they have never met before.


Another important factor regarding this topis, is (well-meant) advice.
People with eating disorders receive tons of (well-meant) advice day after day. We who have eating disorders, of course know that the advisor means well. That, however, does not necessarily mean that any of these advices actually help, and it is not necessarily a good idea to give the advice either. In fact, you should try to avoid giving advice as often as possible.
I am not saying one should never offer good advice, but there may be several reasons as to why you should not give the advice at all. I recommend you use the following questions as a guideline:

- IS this good advice?
If so, why? In what way do you feel certain that this will make a (positive!) difference?

- Do you think the person has received this advice many times before? If so, do you really find it necessary to repeat the advice for the forty-fifth time? The least you can do is ask the person if (s)he has received the advise many times before, and if (s)he has, then drop it. Completely.

- Is your advice medically safe? Guaranteed? Or is there possibly any (slightest) chance that you are wrong?
A good example here is exercise. Many patients in recovery are encouraged to start exercising. The argument is that exercise strengthens bone mass and increases muscle mass. That is true, of course, but it only applies to people without an active eating disorder! In reality, people with eating disorders should’nt exercise at all (in spite of all the wonderful health benefits), simply because exercise very often keeps the body in starvation mode (making it impossible to recover), and also because muscle- and bone mass are already broken down – if they are broken down even more (yes, this is what exercise does, it breaks down muscles), they are never given the chance to heal.

- Is there a chance that your advice has a triggering effect? If no, how confident are you? Have you had an eating disorder? Has the person told you in detail what triggers her/him? (If you feel any doubt at all, mention the topic first and ask if this could potentially trigger.) If the advice turns out to trigger despite trying the opposite, do your best to debrief the situation afterwards.

- Øygunn

anonymous asked:

Hi! Do you have any headcanons for Marvin and Whizzer at the hospital? (b/c tears) Love your blog and your HC's by the way!!! You're so creative and detailed and I love you and the Falsettos characters so much! <3 <3 <3 Thanks!!!!!!!

i hope you like these!! i also love to upset myself. tysm for the compliments! my hcs are mediocre but i’m glad you enjoy them!!<33

this took so long. i was trying to remain sensitive to the situation and hope that it’s accurate. i had to google the symptoms of AIDs and how to play chess so it’s all here, folks.
it’s so weird to go from silly, lighthearted hcs to crushing ones.

  • we all know that whizzer is stubborn as hell. he would straight up refuse help when he’s first hospitalized. he’s barely mobile but too proud to admit his body is deteriorating quickly.
  • the amount of help he requires just doing things like walking a few metres frustrates him to no end. he starts getting really angry, telling marvin & charlotte to shove off and leave him alone. 
  • he’s convinced that if he tries hard enough he’ll be able to make himself better or at least act like it. 
  • he gets so upset with himself and his body’s inability that he actually breaks down crying at one point– multiples times lbr. 
  • he collapses and is sat on the floor on his knees, gripping his hospital gown and wiping furiously at his tear-streaked face. marvin goes to help him up but decides to crouch beside him for a bit, rubbing whizzer’s arms and holding back his own tears.
  • marvin is constantly in a state of faux optimism that whizzer can see right through. whizzer also holds a calm, lighthearted expression when he can as he tries to worry his friends and family as little as possible. left alone they watch each other and know that it’s not alright anymore.
  • they drop their brave faces and just hold each other most nights. their tight knit family leaves the room and they lay silently together. if tears are shed, neither of them say anything.
  • on nights where the silence and sobs are too painful they reminisce over things they did together in the past (although they usually avoid mentioning racquetball or chess). they’ll lie on their backs, hands intertwined, recounting all the dumb places they messed around and tease each other.
  • these nights are spent cuddling and talking until whizzer succumbs to fatigue despite doing nothing that day. marvin has to face the inevitability of the situation alone late into the night and early hours. he’s graced with insomnia and anxiety throughout whizzer’s illness.
  • there comes a point where whizzer refuses to look in a mirror and laments his good looks. his cheeks become more sunken and his weight loss is so blatant, it’s unsettling.
  • whizzer: remember when my hair line was my only flaw
    marvin, holding him and whispering into his hair: it still is
    whizzer, lightheartedly: don’t be a sap, marv
  • whizzer is soon suffering the mental effects of his diagnosis. he’s suddenly overtaken by constant anxiety and depressive thoughts. marvin comforts him however he can, understanding how it must feel for him. 
  • along with these, whizzer’s memory is taking a serious toll. he tries to play chess with jason but completely loses his train of thought. 
  • jason: you can’t move that way
    whizzer, half asleep: huh…?
    jason: the knight. you can’t move diagonally; it’s against the rules.
  • marvin notices the distress and confusion on whizzer’s face and quickly comes to his rescue, challenging jason to a game.
  • he’s left confused a lot  he loses grasp of dates – but this could be due to his refusal to count down his days while marvin anxiously keeps track of it, trying to be with whizzer for every single one of his final hours, minutes, seconds.
  • whizzer sometimes finds him overbearing but marvin knows when to back off and allow whizzer the space despite his reluctance to leave him alone.
  • whizzer prefers to be in company most of the time during his treatment. when alone he’s left to his thoughts of death and what he’ll leave behind. no matter how many times he wills himself to believe it’s just his time. 
  • he’s frustrated, enraged that if there is a god, why he would do this to him? he knows he is not an infallible being but he at least deserves an explanation. he doesn’t deserve to be left to suffer this nameless disease that only provides him with pitiful (or disgusted) looks and half-hearted apologies.
  • along with the mental collapse, he suffers from persistent nausea as his immune system struggles to fight back any other infections he catches. he can’t even look at food without imagining it coming back up. if the illness doesn’t kill him then malnutrition is the next contender.
  • when he and marvin lay together, marvin can’t help but notice how he’s being poked by exposed ribs.
  • marvin will hold whizzer and notice how whizzer is somehow extremely hot yet shivering. marvin attempts to nurse him through his more feverish days and whizzer has to remind him that they’re in a hospital and marvin isn’t a doctor. 
  • he won’t admit it but he prefers marvin’s care no matter how useless he is at it. most doctors are cold, dismissive. charlotte isn’t able to hang around 24/7 so a familiar face is welcomed.
  • whizzer outright refuses to allow himself to be babied and makes distasteful jokes at his own expense in hopes of lightening the mood – it doesn’t really work despite his best efforts.
  • marvin does laugh to some of his morbid joking, to mendel and trina’s shock and distaste. whizzer is pleased with himself, not having seen marvin laugh in so long. it’s not as bright as he usually laughs but it’s something and whizzer finds himself laughing too. marvin holds his gaze fondly and if he’s tearing up no one mentions it.
  • they soon have to face the inevitability of the illness and how it’s going to affect marvin. there’s a wordless exchange between marvin and whizzer after they’ve both been informed of marvin’s likely future. they hold each other a little tighter that night.
  • they have a full discussion later on. whizzer won’t stop apologising and marvin won’t stop asking him not to. 
  • marvin is all too aware of his fate. this isn’t whizzer’s fault, he knows that much for sure but he’s infuriated. why was there no public information? he’d become a victim to rumours and sourceless hearsay. he and whizzer and countless others.
  • the days go by quickly, some better than others but whizzer’s clearly getting worse. each night he seems a little colder (physically and emotionally), he holds marvin hand a little less tight, his conversation is a little more sparse.
  • when whizzer’s time finally comes and he’s lost behind that hospital curtain, marvin is empty. he’s never quite understood how someone could feel empty, completely devoid of any emotion, but here he is.
  • marvin and jason have much the same reaction. frozen. stiff and frozen in place. trina just wishes that this time jason wasn’t so much like marvin. she’d always been loud, emotional. couldn’t jason cry for once? then trina could hold him and comfort him and whisper how it’s going to be alright regardless of her own uncertainty.
  • on that final day, after mendel and trina have collected the bar mitzvah things and quickly ushered jason out, marvin feels powerless. 
  • cordelia is leant against the wall covering her face and holding back her own tears. 
  • before he leaves, whizzer offers him one last genuine (yet teary) smile with his hand over marvin’s. his tight squeeze slowly loosens and marvin leaves a final kiss on his cheek as he strokes the back of his hand.
  • marvin is there when the final light leaves whizzer’s eyes. marvin is there when charlotte slowly covers whizzer’s body with a sheet. he forces himself to look away knowing that whizzer isn’t there anymore. not really. he’s there as charlotte comforts cordelia and he can’t help but feel a sudden spark of envy. 
  • he clenches his fists and puts on a brave face. he figures that’s what whizzer would want. he couldn’t be more wrong and subconsciously he knows that.
  • his facade finally collapses when he sees jason place that king chess piece on whizzer’s grave. he inwardly snorts, even in death whizzer wins.
  • jason sees his father’s tears and trina is startled when jason lets out his own pitiful sobs. 
  • the entire tight knit family is left to mourn and to wonder if everything will ever be alright again. mendel, forever a skeptic, offhandedly mentions that whizzer would be watching them where he is right now. the uncharacteristic comment is a welcome comfort as their now-family-of-6 holds each other. 
  • the belief that everything could be alright lingers.

so yeah… hmu to sob over falsettos.

Marichat May Day 21: Akuma Marinette

Oh welp, this sucks, but whatever.


Chat suck in a breath as he watched the scene unfolding before his eyes.The many people caught in the akuma’s trance were quickly engulfed by flames and turned into soldiers kneeling down and swearing loyalty to her. So far he gathered she had mind control powers along with this trick of making a personal army.

Marinette.

He clenched his jaw. Where in the world was Ladybug? He had waited for her for half an hour now and it was driving him insane. She must have had seen n akuma was on the loose and a strong one at that. His tail twitches anxiously as he took another glance down. He couldn’t wait anymore. This was Marinette, he had to do something. He took a deep breath and jumped off the building, landing gracefully in the middle of the street. The many soldiers were ignoring him, not even looking in his direction. But the akuma stopped walking.

“Marinette.” he called, his voice echoing through the dead silent street.

He heard a snort. When she turned around, Chat bit his tongue to keep from gasping. She didn’t even have a mask on like other akumas. The only visible difference was that she was paler than usual. But that aside, one would never guess there was an akuma before them. Just Marinette in a beautiful red and golden dress.

“I have a title, Chat Noir. It is Princesse Phénix. Marinette is no longer here.”

Oh, I doubt that, Chat thought as he began walking towards her, slowly.

“Are you going to fight me?” the akuma asked, the red and black cape of her dress floating in the wind, making it look almost like she had wings. She was breathtaking, but he didn’t have time to write an ode to her beauty right now. She needed his help.

“I’m not here to fight you, Princess.” she raised an eyebrow as Chat got closer and made a curt bow. “I am here to declare my loyalty. After all, I was your first knight.” he got on one knee and bowed his head, hoping this plan will work. He tried to not tense up very much as she walked towards him, stopping only centimeters away.

“Stand up.”

He did as she ordered, not quite sure what to expect. He certainly didn’t expect the loving look. She cupped his face gently and began stroking his cheeks.

“Minou. My loyal kitten.”

There was a tenderness in her voice that surprised him even further. That was Marinette. Not Princesse Phénix. He needed to help her. His eyes scanned her fastly, trying to figure out where the akuma could be. Not the dress for sure. And she had no jewelry on, besides her signature earrings. Could those be? They didn’t look different at all. His eyes locked on the golden phoenix headpiece. More specifically, on a ribbon that had no place being there. He returned his gaze to her eyes, still glancing at him lovingly and he put on his best smile.

“Can this loyal kitty get a kiss, ma princesse?”

He tried to not get distracted when Marinette lips touched his. She tasted like vanilla and strawberries and he wondered for a second if that was the case when she wasn’t an akuma as well. But he didn’t have time for that. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he lifted his left to her hair, untying the ribbon as well as he could. She didn’t seem to notice, as she still kissed him. Bringing the ribbon behind her back, he broke the kiss.

“Chat?” she asked in pure confusion. He could have sworn it was as if the akuma effect wore off.

He snapped the ribbon open and to his surprise, a white butterfly flew out and a swarm of ladybugs engulfed Marinette, making her outfit and complexion return to normal before going along the street and turning everyone else back to normal. What in the world was that? How could this happen?

“Chat?”

He glanced down to see Marinette frowning and looking around confused and even a little bit dizzy. She was back! He grasped her shoulders, making sure she won’t fall over. He gave her what could possibly be the biggest smile ever before pulling her into a tight hug.

“Welcome back, Marinette.”

Heart Race [George Weasley x Reader]

A/N: I’ve literally posted this like six times because I can’t figure out how to italicize on mobile because the mobile version is trash lmao  I’m so mad rn ugggh. I tried that stupid code italicize but it didn’t work but it works when I test it out and ugghhh I hate this app

Word Count: 3,340

Warnings: mild language like twice. Not proof read. Possible ooc characters. 

Summary: (Name) met George in her third year after being pushed down. After another year, what will happen when George has to find a way to keep his feelings for her in check?

Masterlist



To say she was shy would be an understatement.

She had a quiet voice, but a loud mind. That loud mind of hers was full of brilliant facts and opinions, but the quiet voice that she had held everything back.

And to say that it bothered George would be an understatement as well.

No, George was almost offended that she refused to speak your mind. He couldn’t really understand why (Name) felt the need to hide all of her wonderful thoughts, but that didn’t mean he didn’t respect it.

George and his twin met (Name) when she came to Hogwarts at the age of eleven. At the time they were second years who in all honesty didn’t care much for her.

It’s not like they disliked her, they just didn’t know her well enough to care.

However, that all changed when they witnessed her being pushed down in her third year by some fourth year jerks.

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musicalluna  asked:

in the early days, steve doesn't realize the avengers care about him a lot because they are vastly different people with vastly different socialization than the commandos, but then something happens to him in a fight and the avengers collectively flip their lids and that is how he learns he is Very Important to them

Steve had never been a stranger to friendly teasing. Bucky was a little shit, of course, but so were the Commandos. He’d been called every moniker that popped into his friends’ brains: “Captain Tightpants” (long before it was a cultural reference, thank you very much), “Captain Mom,” “Twinkle Toes,” “All-American Showgirl,” “Blushing Betty,” and names far more filthy. But he’d understood why. He was the commanding officer and he was, when it came down to it, a greenie who got damn lucky 95% of the time. Dugan, Dernier, Falsworth, even Bucky, they all would have been infinitely more qualified to be CO, and so he knew where the teasing was coming from. He knew it was his men’s way of telling him they cared for him while keeping his ego in check. (Bucky could’ve told them Steve was a good enough self-critic as it was and they all could just damn well stick to the dancing references.)

The Avengers, though. Steve had no idea what to think of the way they spoke to him.

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3 Billion Dollars - G Dragon Mafia!AU

Originally posted by shadowtina

Summary: When your father owes 3 billion dollars to the mafia, he must repay his debt. Although things don’t exactly go the way he hoped. 

Genre: Fluffy with a hint of angst in this one

{part 1} {part 2} {part 3} {part 4} {part 5} {part 6} {part 7} {part 8} {part 9} {part 10} {part 11} {part 12} {part 13} {part 14} {part 15} {part 16} {part 17} {part 18} {part 19} {part 20}

A/N: This is the first story I’m posting on Tumblr! I hope you like it! I will always take requests if you wanna send me any. Anyways please enjoy! 

PS: This is just part 1 and it maybe kinda slow.

not my gif

~ Admin Brooklyn

“What are we going to do?” Your mother whisper quietly to her husband. Her disappointment in your father was clear, as her face framed her emotions, all of them ranging from anger and frustration to anxiety and worry.

“I don’t know, but I’m so sorry.” Your dad said, remorse filling his voice. “I’m sorry. I’ve should’ve found a better way. I could’ve-”

“Are they coming?” Your mother cut him off, igniting a new problem in their minds.

“I don’t know. They didn’t say they would.” Your father said. As if on cue, the doorbell chimed through the house. Little three-year-old you smiled and ran towards the door.

“Mommy, Mommy someone’s here!” You giggled joyfully. As you stood in front of the door waiting for someone to open it. Your mother picked you up and carried you away from the front door.

“Sweetheart, (Y/N), go play in your room please.” You looked at your mother with wide eyes and nodded your head. She carefully set you down and you headed towards your room. Your mother watched as you climbed the steps and went to your room. The sound of the doorbell broke her trance. She looked at the door with panic and fear as she turned the knob. She plastered a smile on her face as the door swung open.

Her smile dropped as her visitor sprouted a malicious one. Before her stood Mr. Kwon, a high class mafia boss, one of the richest men in the world, and the man your father owes more than 3 billion dollars too.

“Hello. You must be (Y/M/N). I’m sure your know who I am.” He said. His voice was smooth and sharp, like a knife. He was older than what his appearance said, although a few grey hairs had threatened show. He had cunning cat-like eyes and thin lips. He was surrounded by men, all covered in dark clothing, except a little boy whom wore red and clinged to Mr. Kwon’s legs. He had big round cheeks and short jet black hair with dark brown eyes. He couldn’t be older than five. Your father walked up to your mother and gave Mr. Kwon a loose awkward smile.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He said his voice wavering. “Please come in.”

Mr. Kwon gave him a curt nod, a devilish smile plastered on his face. Mr. Kwon held the little boy’s free hand, the boy’s other hand was occupied by a bright red gift bag. Mr. Kwon lead the little boy inside, then followed by all the men around him.

“Thank you for inviting us. Who knows what would happen if you didn’t.” Mr. Kwon said. He took off his shoes then turned towards the little boy to help. His shoes already off and neatly set together on the mat holding other shoes. You mom and dad led the way towards your kitchen. Mr. Kwon sat down and pulled the boy closer to him.”This is my son Ji Yong. He seemed lonely, and I’ve heard that you have a daughter.”

At his words your mom and dad shot up, terrified about Mr. Kwon’s plans. Young Ji Yong clutched the gift bag to his chest. Mr. Kwon smiled at their fear, his eyes scanning over your parents. “Why don’t you call her over?”

His request sent chills up your mother’s spine. She frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but your father stopped her. She glared at him, until he nudged her, hinting at how the men around them were reaching for their guns. Ji Yong started at your mother watching her first instinct to defy his father.

“(Y/N), come down here please.” Your father called stiffly. Ji Yong watched your parents carefully, his gaze then switching to the men that came with them. The men listened to his father out of respect, while your parents listened out of fear. Ji Yong sometimes envied the control that his father had. Ji Yong looked up at his father, who looked down and smiled fondly at him. Little footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs at an uneven, yet steady pace. You walked towards the kitchen, a smile on your face. As you stepped into the kitchen, your smile fell. You looked at mom and a small smile formed on your face as you ran to her. You eyed the men in the room, your innocent eyes staring out of curiosity, as you hid behind your mother’s legs.

“Hi there. You must be (Y/N).” Mr. Kwon said. Your parents grabbed your shoulders and pulled you closer to them. You made eye contact with Mr. Kwon, who looked at you expectantly. You nodded your head then looked at the floor. Mr. Kwon chuckled at your cuteness and guided Ji Yong so he stands in front of him. Ji Yong was staring at you, watching you in curiosity. You didn’t seem afraid, just shy.

“This is my son Ji Yong. He came to play with you (Y/N).” Mr. Kwon said. Your head shot up, eyes wide. You’ve never had someone to play with before. Ji Yong smiled at you and you stepped away from your mother. Her grip on your shoulders tightened as she pulled you back to her. The men in black were quick to react as their hands went to their belts, grabbing their weapons.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, calm down. We’re trying to make friends. Isn’t that right (Y/L/N)?” Mr. Kwon’s taunting smile threatened your mother and father. You watched the men as their hands backed away slowly from their guns. Your father pried your mother’s hands off your shoulders. Ji Yong stepped towards you as you walked away from your mother and towards him.

“Hi there.” Ji Yong said softly. His voice was quiet, but reached your ears softly. You gave him a shy wave and looked at him with wide curious eyes. He smile softly and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/N), can you take Ji Yong to play up in your room? I need to talk to your parents.” Mr. Kwon’s voice asked. His voice very calm and relaxed, while your parents quivred in fear. You nodded your head and walked towards Ji Yong, grabbing his hand in your tiny one.

“Come on.” You said quietly, still feeling slightly shy. You were happy to play with somebody, but that doesn’t mean you knew them. Your parent’s had always said to never trust a stranger, and you still didn’t know anything about Ji Yong, except for his name. You lead him away from the kitchen and towards the stairs leading to the upper level of the house. Ji Yong’s hand was able to wrap around yours easily, almost engulfing your tiny one. The red gift bag made crinkling noises as he walked up stairs with you guiding him up and out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your parents watched Mr. Kwon, his venomous smile ready to unleash his hidden plan that would soon haunt them. Everyone could hear the footsteps as they reached the top of the steps, as well as the rustling the gift bag made as Ji Yong climbed the steps. It wasn’t until the squeaking of your door, followed by the sound of it shutting, did Mr. Kwon finally say something.

“You’re in quite the pickle aren’t you (Y/L/N)?” Mr. Kwon said, getting up from his seat and stalking his way towards the refrigerator. He opened it carelessly and grabbed a drink. “Three billion dollars. That’s a lot of money. Not to mention the men, and the time I lost without that money. You sir, owe me a lot in order to compensate what I lost.”

“It’s okay though, I’ve decided there are a few things we could do to fix your little problem.” Mr. Kwon had them and he knew it. The way your father’s eyes lit up, but at the same time your mother’s skeptical eyes glared, preparing for what he had planned for her family.

“Your daughter is wonderful, by the way. She seems very shy, yet I think she’ll be very independent.” Your mother narrowed her eyes at him. Mr. Kwon just smirked, happy that he was able to get some reaction out of her. He loved seeing how people tried to defy him, like they would have a chance to prove him wrong, especially when he had the power to be right.

“Stay away from my daughter. She has nothing to do with this.” Your mother said. The men around them reached for their guns, but made no effort to aim them.

“Sweetheart you are in no position to be making orders. Your husband here, has wasted a lot of my money, my time, and my men. You must know how valuable money is. Things always seem to be more expensive when you have kids, don’t they.” Mr. Kwon paused, taking a sip of his drink. His pause went on a little longer, not only for dramatic effect,  but he wanted to watch as fear sunk into your mother’s eyes. “I just want to make sure I have what I need to solidify my child’s future.”

“What do you mean?” Your father asked cautiously. Mr. Kwon malicious smile appeared once again. He stayed quiet until he heard what he had been waiting for. The house seemed to echo your screams soon followed by a quieter, more joyful fit of giggles. Your parents faces fell containing their horror and shock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You smiled and clung to Ji Yong as he giggled and smiled. You had been playing together for quite sometime, enjoy each other’s company, well at least you were. After you had gotten to your room he had given you his gift. The shiny red bag with the red and white tissue paper preventing you from seeing to the gift. Ji Yong watched as you unwrapped the gift slowly but surely making your way to the object his father picked out for you. Ji Yong knew what was going on down stairs. He already knew the ultimatum his father would be giving your parents in a minute. He knew what his father had planned for his future, and Ji Yong trusted his father enough to let him take control. So he sat back and watched your eyes light up with joy as you pulled out a fuzzy deep blue blanket that held another item. Along with the blanket was a stuffed dog, a blue ribbon acting as a small collar. You pulled the blanket around you and held onto the dog, creating a small tent just for yourself.

“Do you like it?” Ji Yong asked. You smile and nodded happily.

“Thank you.” You said sweetly. Ji Yong gave you his wide smile and scooted closer to you. “Wanna help me make a fort?”

After a few minutes of setting up, Ji Yong pushing chairs and pillows, and you sitting with blankets directing him where things should go, the fort was done and filled with all your stuffed animals. Ji Yong crawled his way into the fort, making you giggle as he commando crawled. You scooted over to make room for him, only to run into Miss Cupcake, your stuffed unicorn, causing you to sit on her hind legs due to the lack of space. He smiled at you and grabbed a storybook, showing off his skill of reading to you. Although the few words he skipped caused rifts in the story, you enjoyed the effort he made and soon you two started playing games.

Half way through the game of hide and seek in your room (which didn’t last two round thanks to Miss Cupcake being a tattle tale). Ji Yong had found you in your closet and scared you by tickling your sides causing you to scream. You fell over on top of him in a fit of giggles and kept rolling until his torture ended. By then he was smiling and you were a fit of giggles. Ji Yong would just smile at you and you couldn’t stop laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You are not going to take my daughter away from me and give her away like some prize.” Your mother growled at Mr. Kwon. He raised his eyebrow in amusement as the men around them pulled out their guns and aimed them at your mother. Your father pulled her closer to him and held her tightly against his chest. Calming down, her growling of ungodly words had settled to a glare as Mr. Kwon casually sipped his drink. Your giggles still echoing in the house.

“You see, I planned to let her live with you. Let you raise her, teach her what she’ll need to know, until Ji Yong can take my spot. Then she’ll become apart of the mafia world, alongside my son. Or we can continue this, let you struggle and fight to save your only daughter. Which will end up with both of you dead on the floor, and (Y/N) an orphan. I guess we’ll just have to take her in early then. So your choice (Y/L/N), now or later.” Mr. Kwon stood patiently waiting for their answer. Your mother calmed down, but her glare was steady. The men lowered their weapons as your mother nodded her head and Mr. Kwon smiled at his victory.

“Good choice.” Mr. Kwon was cut off by hurried foot steps and the sound of giggling. You ran into the kitchen, the fuzzy blue blanket still wrapped around you. You hid behind your mother’s legs, your giggling dying down. Ji Yong ran to catch up with you and caught you in the kitchen. Your giggles grew back to life again and you ran away from your mother and towards Mr. Kwon. You hid behind his legs, until he picked you up.

“Do you like your gift (Y/N)?” He asked sweetly. You nodded your head shyly and buried yourself in the blanket more.

“She’s still shy around you dad.” Ji Yong said. Mr. Kwon looked down at Ji Yong and smiled. He set you down carefully then smiled at your parents. They watched in horror as you giggle playfully with Ji Yong, him tickling you as you fell onto the floor again.

“This has been wonderful, but we must get going Ji Yong, you have to get to bed soon.” Mr. Kwon said, a knowing smile on his face. A whine sounded from both you and Ji Yong as you two stopped playing. Ji Yong helped you up and then sent a smile your way. You couldn’t help but giggle as you covered his head with the blanket once more. He smiled at you then pulled away and looked up at his father. Mr. Kwon guided Ji Yong towards his shoes and got ready to leave, with you trailing behind them silently. You gave Ji Yong one last smile, which was quickly returned by a wide one of his own.

“Goodbye little (Y/N), hopefully we’ll see you soon.” Mr. Kwon said sweetly at you. You smiled back at him and gave him a small wave.

“I hope you understand our deal (Y/L/N). We don’t want anything to get ruined.” Mr. Kwon said, his malicious smile returning once more. Your father gave him a curt nod, satisfying Mr. Kwon.

“Bye Bye Yongie.” You said to Ji Yong smiling. Mr. Kwon smiled down at his shoes, while your parents stood motionless. Ji Yong turned and smiled at you and waved. His shoes on and ready to go.

“Bye (Y/N). I’ll see you later.” Ji Yong replied. Mr. Kwon held Ji Yong’s hand and walked out the door, leaving you to wonder when they’ll come back.

Casual affair

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex, cursing, casual dirty talking? 

Summary: A casual thing becomes regular, there’s one rule only: No strings attached.

A/N: Inspired in P!ATD’s Casual Affair. A lot of sex comes under the cut. Feedback is love, feedback is life.


Originally posted by nooodle07

Hey, a casual affair
that could go anywhere
and only for tonight

You looked around you and prayed for the door to not creak as it tended to do. You sneaked inside and the sight made you smile wickedly. The God of Mischief was lying on his bed with the light of his side table on and a grin that matched yours.

In a split second, and by means of his magic you thought, he was already overpowering you and keeping you in place between the cold door and his also cold body. His breath brushed your lips, and his emerald-green eyes pierced all the way to your soul.

“I’ve missed you, princess” he growled, keeping his mouth just millimeters away from yours, “so, so much…”

“Why keeping me waiting, then?” You retorted.

He snickered mischievously, and what you thought was going to be rough, was completely gentle. His lips pressed against your own and his hands moving along the curves of your frame were soft and they lingered on your skin as if they didn’t want to let you go. You felt him sighing in joy when he found an uncovered spot of skin.

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20 Common Grammar Mistakes That (Almost) Everyone Makes

Who and Whom

This one opens a big can of worms. “Who” is a subjective — or nominative — pronoun, along with “he,” “she,” “it,” “we,” and “they.” It’s used when the pronoun acts as the subject of a clause. “Whom” is an objective pronoun, along with “him,” “her,” “it”, “us,” and “them.” It’s used when the pronoun acts as the object of a clause. Using “who” or “whom” depends on whether you’re referring to the subject or object of a sentence. When in doubt, substitute “who” with the subjective pronouns “he” or “she,” e.g., Who loves you? cf., He loves me.Similarly, you can also substitute “whom” with the objective pronouns “him” or “her.” e.g., I consulted an attorney whom I met in New York. cf., I consulted him.

Which and That

This is one of the most common mistakes out there, and understandably so. “That” is a restrictive pronoun. It’s vital to the noun to which it’s referring.  e.g., I don’t trust fruits and vegetables that aren’t organic. Here, I’m referring to all non-organic fruits or vegetables. In other words, I only trust fruits and vegetables that are organic. “Which” introduces a relative clause. It allows qualifiers that may not be essential. e.g., I recommend you eat only organic fruits and vegetables, which are available in area grocery stores. In this case, you don’t have to go to a specific grocery store to obtain organic fruits and vegetables. “Which” qualifies, “that” restricts. “Which” is more ambiguous however, and by virtue of its meaning is flexible enough to be used in many restrictive clauses. e.g., The house, which is burning, is mine. e.g., The house that is burning is mine.

Lay and Lie

This is the crown jewel of all grammatical errors. “Lay” is a transitive verb. It requires a direct subject and one or more objects. Its present tense is “lay” (e.g., I lay the pencil on the table) and its past tense is “laid” (e.g.,Yesterday I laid the pencil on the table). “Lie” is an intransitive verb. It needs no object. Its present tense is “lie” (e.g., The Andes mountains lie between Chile and Argentina) and its past tense is “lay” (e.g., The man lay waiting for an ambulance). The most common mistake occurs when the writer uses the past tense of the transitive “lay” (e.g., I laid on the bed) when he/she actually means the intransitive past tense of “lie" (e.g., I lay on the bed).

Moot

Contrary to common misuse, “moot” doesn’t imply something is superfluous. It means a subject is disputable or open to discussion. e.g., The idea that commercial zoning should be allowed in the residential neighborhood was a moot point for the council.

Continual and Continuous

They’re similar, but there’s a difference. “Continual” means something that’s always occurring, with obvious lapses in time. “Continuous” means something continues without any stops or gaps in between. e.g., The continual music next door made it the worst night of studying ever. e.g., Her continuous talking prevented him from concentrating.

Envy and Jealousy

The word “envy” implies a longing for someone else’s good fortunes. “Jealousy” is far more nefarious. It’s a fear of rivalry, often present in sexual situations. “Envy” is when you covet your friend’s good looks. “Jealousy” is what happens when your significant other swoons over your good-looking friend.

Nor

“Nor” expresses a negative condition. It literally means “and not.” You’re obligated to use the “nor” form if your sentence expresses a negative and follows it with another negative condition. “Neither the men nor the women were drunk” is a correct sentence because “nor” expresses that the women held the same negative condition as the men. The old rule is that “nor” typically follows “neither,” and “or” follows “either.” However, if neither “either” nor “neither” is used in a sentence, you should use “nor” to express a second negative, as long as the second negative is a verb. If the second negative is a noun, adjective, or adverb, you would use “or,” because the initial negative transfers to all conditions. e.g., He won’t eat broccoli or asparagus. The negative condition expressing the first noun (broccoli) is also used for the second (asparagus).

May and Might

“May” implies a possibility. “Might” implies far more uncertainty. “You may get drunk if you have two shots in ten minutes” implies a real possibility of drunkenness. “You might get a ticket if you operate a tug boat while drunk” implies a possibility that is far more remote. Someone who says “I may have more wine” could mean he/she doesn’t want more wine right now, or that he/she “might” not want any at all. Given the speaker’s indecision on the matter, “might” would be correct.

Whether and If

Many writers seem to assume that “whether” is interchangeable with “if.“ It isn’t. “Whether” expresses a condition where there are two or more alternatives. “If” expresses a condition where there are no alternatives. e.g., I don’t know whether I’ll get drunk tonight. e.g., I can get drunk tonight if I have money for booze.

Fewer and Less

“Less” is reserved for hypothetical quantities. “Few” and “fewer” are for things you can quantify. e.g., The firm has fewer than ten employees. e.g., The firm is less successful now that we have only ten employees.

Farther and Further

The word “farther” implies a measurable distance. “Further” should be reserved for abstract lengths you can’t always measure. e.g., I threw the ball ten feet farther than Bill. e.g., The financial crisis caused further implications.

Since and Because

“Since” refers to time. “Because” refers to causation. e.g., Since I quit drinking I’ve married and had two children. e.g., Because I quit drinking I no longer wake up in my own vomit.

Disinterested and Uninterested

Contrary to popular usage, these words aren’t synonymous. A “disinterested” person is someone who’s impartial. For example, a hedge fund manager might take interest in a headline regarding the performance of a popular stock, even if he’s never invested in it. He’s “disinterested,” i.e., he doesn’t seek to gain financially from the transaction he’s witnessed. Judges and referees are supposed to be "disinterested.” If the sentence you’re using implies someone who couldn’t care less, chances are you’ll want to use “uninterested.”

Anxious

Unless you’re frightened of them, you shouldn’t say you’re “anxious to see your friends.” You’re actually “eager,” or “excited.” To be “anxious” implies a looming fear, dread or anxiety. It doesn’t mean you’re looking forward to something.

Different Than and Different From

This is a tough one. Words like “rather” and “faster” are comparative adjectives, and are used to show comparison with the preposition “than,” (e.g., greater than, less than, faster than, rather than). The adjective “different” is used to draw distinction. So, when “different” is followed by a  preposition, it should be “from,” similar to “separate from,” “distinct from,” or “away from.” e.g., My living situation in New York was different from home. There are rare cases where “different than” is appropriate, if “than” operates as a conjunction. e.g.,Development is different in New York than in Los Angeles. When in doubt, use “different from.”

Bring and Take

In order to employ proper usage of “bring” or “take,” the writer must know whether the object is being moved toward or away from the subject. If it is toward, use “bring.” If it is away, use “take.” Your spouse may tell you to “take your clothes to the cleaners.” The owner of the dry cleaners would say “bring your clothes to the cleaners.”

Impactful

It isn’t a word. “Impact” can be used as a noun (e.g., The impact of the crash was severe) or a transitive verb (e.g., The crash impacted my ability to walk or hold a job). “Impactful” is a made-up buzzword, colligated by the modern marketing industry in their endless attempts to decode the innumerable nuances of human behavior into a string of mindless metrics. Seriously, stop saying this.

Affect and Effect

Here’s a trick to help you remember: “Affect” is almost always a verb (e.g., Facebook affects people’s attention spans), and “effect” is almost always a noun (e.g., Facebook’s effects can also be positive). “Affect” means to influence or produce an impression — to cause hence, an effect. “Effect” is the thing produced by the affecting agent; it describes the result or outcome. There are some exceptions. “Effect” may be used as a transitive verb, which means to bring about or make happen. e.g., My new computer effected a much-needed transition from magazines to Web porn. There are similarly rare examples where “affect” can be a noun. e.g., His lack of affect made him seem like a shallow person.

Irony and Coincidence

Too many people claim something is the former when they actually mean the latter. For example, it’s not “ironic” that “Barbara moved from California to New York, where she ended up meeting and falling in love with a fellow Californian.” The fact that they’re both from California is a “coincidence.” “Irony” is the incongruity in a series of events between the expected results and the actual results. “Coincidence” is a series of events that appear planned when they’re actually accidental. So, it would be “ironic” if “Barbara moved from California to New York to escape California men, but the first man she ended up meeting and falling in love with was a fellow Californian.”

Nauseous

Undoubtedly the most common mistake I encounter. Contrary to almost ubiquitous misuse, to be “nauseous” doesn’t mean you’ve been sickened: it actually means you possess the ability to produce nausea in others. e.g., That week-old hot dog is nauseous. When you find yourself disgusted or made ill by a nauseating agent, you are actually “nauseated.” e.g., I was nauseated after falling into that dumpster behind the Planned Parenthood. Stop embarrassing yourself.

If you’re looking for a practical, quick guide to proper grammar, I suggest the tried-and-true classic The Elements of Style, by William Strunk, Jr. and E. B. White. A few of these examples are listed in the book, and there are plenty more. Good luck!

Pride and Prejudice, and Consent

Time to cleanse the palate with a bit of positive relationship analysis!

One of the tropes that plagues, and has plagued, romance fiction ever since the invention of the novel is the idea of female consent not being necessary as long as the male is desirable and/or really wants her. Often, the heroine will succumb either to her own desires or his, whether she is entirely willing to do so or not, and that is framed as being analogous with passion—even love.

Well, two hundred years before Fifty Shades of Grey played fast and loose with consent issues, I present to you the antithesis of this trope in Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.

Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine of Pride and Prejudice, receives two proposals of marriage that are eerily similar, despite the outward differences of her two suitors. Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy both spring unexpected and unwelcome proposals of marriage on her, calling to light her family’s lack of financial security and connection, seeing themselves as condescending to offer for her, and being completely perplexed by her refusal to accept them.

Elizabeth to Collins: You could not make me happy, and I am convinced I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.

Elizabeth to Darcy: I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.“

Elizabeth’s words leave no ambiguity for either gentleman: she soundly rejects them both in a similar fashion. From this, readers may infer that since Darcy and Elizabeth end up together, it is Darcy who is persistent in his romantic intentions after Elizabeth has said “no.” But in fact, it is Collins who refuses to take no for an answer, and Darcy who never oversteps his bounds.

The first thing Collins says after he hears her rejection is that she cannot be serious in her refusal. 

 "I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”

So elevated is his own sense of self-worth that she has to explain to him that she did, in fact, mean what she said:

  “Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is rather an extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.”

What is the result? Collins still doesn’t take no for an answer, again:

  “Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins very gravely – “but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say.”

And again:

  "When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject, I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character.”

  “Really, Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth with some warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its being one.”

And again:

   "You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly these: – It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into farther consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so small, that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall chuse to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.“

   ”I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretension whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart.“

And again:   

"You are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry; “and I am persuaded that, when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.”

In fact, Collins only stops pursuing Elizabeth when her father puts his foot down and backs her refusal. Pride and Prejudice is a comedy, and so the tone is light on the surface, but beneath the satire is a very real, earnest desire to communicate how often women’s words—even their consent—are dismissed as fickle or inconsequential. Seeing our heroine not fleeing dramatically from a villain, but pursued by an entitled man who doesn’t take her words seriously, we feel Elizabeth’s sense of outrage and how belittling it is for Collins to act this way.

By contrast, though we might imagine a love interest like Darcy to be overcome with passion and try to make her his own by any means, Darcy is remarkably restrained and respectful without ever losing his ardent love for the woman he wants to marry. The first divergence of his response from Collins’ occurs right after he has been rejected:

   "And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.“

The wording here is important. He doesn’t demand that she explain why she rejected him, but rather why she was so impolite about doing so (since he has no knowledge of her dislike of him). He continues to be honest about his objections to her family’s behavior and place in the world, and to be angry at her for defending the duplicitous Wickham, but he never tries to convince her that she was wrong in rejecting him, even though he still views her as a social inferior.

After their heated conversation, Darcy leaves with an apology that he has occupied her for so long:

   "You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

This is a far cry from Collins following Elizabeth around after the proposal and trying to go over her head to her parents for support.

But wait—doesn’t the love interest write Elizabeth a letter, convincing her to give him another chance?

No. Both Darcy’s letter and its method of delivery are respectful of Elizabeth’s boundaries and her refusal of him.

It should be noted that an unmarried gentlewoman receiving letters from a man she was not engaged to resulted in scandal if it were ever exposed. If Darcy had wanted to compel Elizabeth to marry him, he would only have had to deliver the letter publicly, or through the post. Instead, he delivers the letter in person, when they are alone in a park and there is no chance of discovery. It is still a bit of a risk, though, and so he asks (not demands) that she read it:

“Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?“

Right from the beginning, Darcy reassures Elizabeth that he is not trying to impose on her or get her to accept him after she has made her wishes clear:

 "Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. 

While it is more than apparent that her rejection stung and he is still in love with her, he never brings up the subject of the proposal again—the contents are a defense of the charges she had laid against his character, as well as a warning against Wickham for her own safety. He doesn’t ask for a second chance or demand she reconsider her words, even in light of this new information. Moreover, he trusts her with the knowledge of his sister’s near-elopement with Wickham (which could cause a scandal if discovered), thus risking as much by delivering the letter as Elizabeth does by accepting it. In every way, he trusts her judgment and keeps her wishes in mind.

When they meet again at Pemberley, Darcy is trying to reform his behavior. He is cordial to her tradesman uncle and aunt, and has divested himself of the haughtiness that prevented her from seeing his true worth initially. Darcy does not give himself permission to pursue Elizabeth as a result of this change in character; it is only after they have met and talked cordially that he asks her, not to speak with him alone, but to meet his sister. In fact, he resists making romantic overtures for the duration of the visit, which ends abruptly when Elizabeth discovers her sister’s elopement with Wickham. And even there, when she and Darcy are accidentally alone during her distress, he makes no move to use the occasion as an excuse to “comfort” her with his advances. His reaction is, in fact, quite the opposite:

 "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern.”

Another opportunity arises for Darcy to compel Elizabeth to marry him, this time out of gratitude. Unable to see Elizabeth so wretched, he finds Lydia and Wickham in London and, at great expense, convinces them to marry. He saves not only her sister’s reputation but that of her entire family. Yet rather than use that as an example to Elizabeth of what a good person he is, he forbids her aunt and uncle from mentioning that it was he who saved the Bennets’ good name. Elizabeth doesn’t even know he was involved until Lydia thoughtlessly gives the game away (after she, too, was sworn to secrecy).  

How then, do Lizzy and Darcy get together? It is Elizabeth herself who gives Darcy a reason to believe her opinion of him has improved. During a verbal duel with Darcy’s formidable aunt, she comes out the winner and point-blank refuses to give Lady Catherine a promise not to pursue Mr. Darcy. Lady Catherine petulantly tries to cut the problem off at the source by relating everything to her nephew. It works about as well as you’d expect.

 But, unluckily for her ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.

   "It taught me to hope,“ said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.”

What prompts Darcy to renew his offer of marriage is nothing more or less than evidence that Elizabeth had seen his change of heart and accepted it.

“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once.My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

Above is Darcy’s second proposal. After hearing her first rejection, he takes her at her word, respectfully gives her information that might have led her to mistaken conclusions about him, leaves even before he is asked to, reforms his own behavior, never takes advantage of their being alone to make unwanted advances, assists her and her family without taking any credit, and once he has seen enough signs to think she might accept him, renews his offer once and only once. If she says no again, unlike Collins, he will not continue to pester her or seek her out. He will not try to convince her that her decision was wrong. It is a sad statement on society that this is a remarkable thing, no less in the real world than in fiction, and all too prevalent in heroes of romance even two hundred years later. There is no shortage of love interests who mistake passion for permission, conflict for consent, and adversity for flirtation—but there is also no excuse for this to continue, particularly now. If a novel published in 1813 can understand the letter and spirit of consent, I think we can do better in our own time.


EDIT: Continued here.

When They Realized They Loved You

Bucky: He was at one of his weakest moments, having just woken up from a nightmare with an earth shattering yell. Within moments you were there in his doorway, asking if you could come in. Keep in mind, the two of you had just become acquaintances since he moved into the Avengers Compound. So you were cautious as you approached, Bucky’s chest was still heaving up and down and glittering with sweat. Despite his horrid appearance, you still kneeled down next to his bed and put your face close to his. You put your hands on both of his cheeks, brushing away the tears as well. After having a few moments of just reminding him of where he was, and who he really was, the shaking subsided and he finally looked into your eyes. Bucky knew in that moment that he found his true love.

Steve: Everyone treated him like he was some kind of lab rat that needed to be handled with extreme caution, or else he would shatter like a vase. But then you came along, fresh out of agent training and ready to take on the world. Tony lassoed your raw talent and energy, and brought you along an Avengers mission as soon as he possibly could. Once the team hit the ground in Russia, everyone realized how severely outnumbered you all were. Instead of wasting a second, you assumed second in command and got everyone out of their trances and into the battle. This included giving a pep talk to Steve that made him realize how much he could really get done on these missions. Just having you stand there, and whip him into shape was enough to really see that you knew what he was truly capable of as Steve, and not just “Captain America”. Steve understood then that you were the one for him, forever and always.

Natasha: There was nothing worse than the new cocky agents, and of course Tony managed to always assign them to Natasha. The two of you were quite the dynamic duo when it came to agent training, everyone knew that when Nat was near; you were too. So the idiot agent who tried to talk shit about Natasha’s past while doing exercises in the corner should’ve known you were near, since she was on the other side of the gym. But he continued to talk until you quickly silenced him by flipping him over and pinning him to the ground with your foot on his throat. After a few threats that could’ve gotten you arrested anywhere in the world, Natasha was behind you softly laughing and grabbing your elbow to pull you off the kid. Later that night when you finally told her what really happened, it was like she dropped the facade of being apathetic and kissed you like there was no tomorrow. No one had ever defended her like that, and Natasha felt in her heart that she had finally found her true love.

Sam: Having a good spotify playlist going on the speakers was a must in Sam’s house, and you were there to enjoy it all the time. Good thing you and Sam shared music taste, so you spent most of your time dancing around while doing little domestic things around the house. One particular Tuesday night, Sam had been on a mission so you knew you were good to put on your music while you cooked. No pants, hair down, singing at the top of your lungs was the picture that Sam walked in on. For a moment, he fell silent, in awe at your raw beauty in those few fleeting moments in front of him. As you turned around, you met eyes with Sam. All his mind was on was kissing you, and he put his plan into action. The amount of love he had for you had finally dawned on him and he was ready to accept it in his heart.

Clint: Being an avenger warrants a lot of bodily damage, so he always shows up on your doorstep late at night in hopes of you being awake. Patching him up became a regular thing when you met him from being an agent on one of their missions, but this time he seemed to be at his worst. Clint had not one, not two, but three bullet wounds in his stomach. It was a miracle he didn’t bleed out on the walk over to your apartment. As you were going to work on him, you realized how quiet he had been which made your heart sink. But lo and behold, he was only taking in your figure hovering over him, stabilizing his wounds. There was a faint smile on his face that matched well with his hooded eyelids. Even through the weariness of blood loss, he began to face this realization: he loved you. Clint loved you for everything you did for him, and for the person you are.

Bruce: After dating for over a year, you had grown accustomed to his frequent nightmares. Bruce would indeed freak out during these nightmares, but not enough to Hulk Out. However, one odd Wednesday, his nightmares were more aggressive than usual. He tossed and turned, which obviously caused you to awake to the situation at hand. You knew that he was going to need the usual calm down, but what you weren’t expecting was the agonizing scream that accompanied his restlessness. Any other person would have been terrified to be in the same room as him, let alone the same bed. But you calmly put one hand on his shoulder, and stroked his cheek with the other, effectively calming him down. He glanced over at you and sees the most loving look, no fear in sight. You just looked back at him like he was the only thing in the world that you needed, and realized he was absolutely madly in love with you.

Tony: Being Iron Man was dangerous, it was no secret to you or Tony. But that sure as hell didn’t stop him from flying around in his metal casket of a suit. He never felt that the suit itself was dangerous, until one afternoon when it suddenly malfunctioned in mid air. Tony could feel it shutting down, but he already knew what was going to happen the moment it buckled in the air. He knew exactly how far the drop was from the sky to the ground, and he knew how little time it would take for him to get there. The reality set in that when he hit that ground, he wasn’t getting back up. But the only thing he was worried about was leaving you alone, because he was so utterly in love with you. Luckily, in a spur of understated good fortune, the suit powered back up, before he started picking up speed in his descent. It only later dawned on him about what he had thought of in those terrifying moments, and he decided that night he was going to tell you how he really felt.

Peter: Since you were best friends with one another, you and Peter had made a pact to never keep any secrets from each other. You had both agreed that this pact would stand firm for the rest of your lives. So with the pact came the spider man secret, which was way more than you could bring to the table. Good thing, because you’re not sure how else you would have gotten out of almost being mugged by some punk in an alleyway walking home to your apartment building one fateful evening. Peter always made sure to keep an eye on you while he was out doing whatever a man with spider reflexes does. He swung from a nearby building as soon as he saw you disappear from the sidewalk. Peter was so fast in looping an arm around your waist, whisking you away from your attacker. After dropping you off right in front of your building, his arms wrapped around you in a bear hug. Peter teared up a little bit, being hit with the fact that he could lose you within the blink of an eye. It hit him then, that he loved you with every bone in his body.

Pietro: Nothing stopped Pietro from constantly zooming around to do literally everything. Brushing his teeth took a maximum of ten seconds. He scarfed food down without so much as an inhale of breath, and he even fast forwarded TV programs to watch them. But when you came around and stepped into his life, Pietro never wanted to be in fast forward again. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with you, even though that meant slowing himself down indefinitely. Pietro was one hundred percent willing to slow down so you could keep up in doing everyday things, like brushing your teeth, and eating food, and watching TV. Everything in life he wanted to last as long as possible, and it then he realized he was madly in love with you.

Scott: Being the worry wart he is, he never really went on dates in fear of them finding out about his criminal past. Until you came along. The two of you had met through a mutual friend, and had immediately taken a liking to each other. So you went on a date, which turned into two, then a bunch more, finally becoming a couple. Everything that could have possibly been shared between the two of you was out in the open for one another, including stuff about the past. Scott didn’t really want to bring it into play, because based on past judgements, dates didn’t find felonies appealing. But you were different. You weren’t sure if it was attractive or just didn’t matter, but you didn’t mind them. This shocked him, right into realizing how amazing you were. He took that as a sign that you would forgive him of his shortcomings, flaws, and mistakes and love him anyway. Which was true, and only made him fall deeply in love with you.

Loki: Contrary to popular belief, Loki was very pleasant to be around. Nobody gave him enough of a chance to realize this, though. Except you. You had grown up with him and Thor on Asgard, and nothing had changed about either of them. Thor was still loud and full of joy, and Loki was still reserved and snarky. That wouldn’t ever change. You knew him to be very mild, and was drawn to that about him, which is why you were always around him and not Thor. You had never left his side, and he knew that you never would. It wasn’t commendable, considering everything he had done on Earth. But nevertheless, you were there with him. Loki found a shred of happiness in that, and he held it sacred to his heart. Nothing else in his life made him nearly as happy as you did. He couldn’t tell if it was love, and you would never tell him that it was, so the both of you never brought it up. As time passed, he realized that he was in fact, in love with you. When he finally made the first move, you gladly accepted him with open arms and a loving kiss.