stupid tie

Not Just Another Human

Fandom: Doctor Who

Word count: 1195

Characters: Eleventh Doctor x reader

Warnings: argument

Summary: Requested by anon. The Doctor, who has a crush on the reader, meets her new boyfriend. Unknown to him, she feels the same way. 

 “Doctor! Are you coming or not?” you called up the staircase. As you spoke, you fiddled with the buttons on your shirt.

He bounded into the console room, and you felt your heart leap at the sight of his wild grin and stupid bow-tie. It was like this every time you saw him- even though, you remembered, that had never been an option. You were only human, nothing special. Not to him.

“Of course I am!” he replied. “Gotta make sure he’s good enough for you, don’t I? After all, you’re my best friend. ”

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SUIT & TIE: Stupid Valet Boy // Jin

Pairing: Reader x Jin

Rating: M

Word Count: 6.2k

Request: your BTS fanfics are so amazing! could I request an angst/smut married life scenario with Jin?

Author’s Note: idk how this became so long RIP sorry xD

R E Q U E S T || M A S T E R L I S T

“Babe, are you ready?” His eyes were fixed to the dimly lit screen he held in his hand. Tapping his foot, he glanced at his watch for the third time, standing with his other hand on the door knob.

Twisting over yourself, you bent your arm at an odd angle to tug the zipper of the dress up your back. The pink of your tongue poked out between your freshly colored lips as you struggled with the small metal thing. “Almost,” you called out from the bedroom.

“Please, we’re going to be late,” he reminded you, also for the third time.

“Jin, say it again, I swear-” you muttered under your breath. Date night seemed to always end up like this. You couldn’t even figure out why you did it anymore. Finally having had enough with the zipper, you straightened up and smoothed the dress down, examining yourself in the mirror.

Jin appeared in the doorway. Your stomach fluttered with hope for but a moment. It was naive of you, but still your entire being felt the glimmer of possibility that maybe he came to see how you looked, like he used to. He would look you up and down slowly, so you knew how fucking amazing you looked, and then walk up to you and pull you in for a kiss. His hand would drag down your back, and squeeze your ass, making you moan into the kiss, and may or may not lead to you being late to date night. You turned to face him with a smile, satisfied with your appearance. It was a new dress: pink even, his favorite color. He quickly glanced up and for a moment his eyes froze over your body and washed over with the flicker of something familiar. It was promising. Then, he flashed a tight-lipped smile and a nod before turning his gaze back towards his phone.

“Thanks, babe, you look good too,” you said to yourself with a sigh, the all-too familiar pang of disappointment settling into your chest. It had made its home there comfortably as of late.

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you’re playing with fire again, buddy. 


Beck: Daddy, why do I have to wear this abomination around my neck?

Dylan: It’s your mother’s birthday. We’re all dressing up to show her that we love her.

Beck: Why does putting on fancy clothes tell her we love her? And why is this stupid tie considered “fancy?”

Dylan: I dunno, but my mother forced me to wear a tie for her birthdays so I promised myself I’d force my son to, too.

Beck: Ugh, parents are so annoying!

Running Away With Mickey Milkovich

(( Season 3 AU, the wedding didn’t happen, Mick left with Ian, open to any Mickey ))

He didn’t expect this. He didn’t plan for this. All he’d planned to do had been to pour his heart out to Mickey like some stupid bitch after it had been obvious the fucker was going to stay a closet case and hide away to keep daddy happy. He’d expected to hate Mickey, to shove his fists to get as much payback as he could for the short idiot nearly breaking his nose and a few ribs outside of those old abandoned high rise buildings. 

He didn’t expect Mickey to take off the stupid bow tie and agree.

Yet here they were, in a stolen care with half a grand that Ian had managed to save up and keep away from his family over the years. It was enough for gas, food, and maybe a night at some rat infested motel in which they’d realize they’d have to go back or start turning tricks for money (or one of them becoming said trick). He’d taken over driving and had managed to maneuver a sleeping Mickey down in his lap. Ian combed his long freckled fingers through Mickey’s dark sweaty hair as he kept his hazel eyes on the dim lit road. They were passing through some storm as they approached Indiana. 

All he could think about was the fact he was ready to purge himself of the boy sleeping against his thigh - to give him up to some crock of a lie so that he could move on and not linger over someone that was pointless - useless - who didn’t give a fuck about him. Yet here that person was, so calm and exhausted and for once not stressed or worried or looking older than his young years because of all he had to carry on his shoulders. Ian cracked a small smile and chewed his lower lip as he pulled over towards a diner. He put the car in gear and shook Mickey’s shoulder lightly. “Hey…hey Mick.” He kept his words simple, eyes focused as he watched the other stir. “Wanna go eat?” 

I was asked a question earlier on what is the most unforgivable trait. ‘

I’d have to say it’s a tie between stupidity and lack of self regard. 


So the soccer team from where I live is playing the soccer team from where I used to live for the first time ever and it happens to be when I don’t have any work or hockey game or anything else scheduled, so that means I basically have no choice but to head to the most stupid sports advertising name tie-in since someone thought it was even close to alright to slap BIMBO across some guys’ chests.

So, That’s Why

Sometimes I miss things that are right in front of me.

Now I understand why there are some people who were really angry when I protested that Scott McCall wasn’t ‘dumb.’   It would destroy people’s hard work.

Ninety percent of BAMF!Stiles fan fiction only works if Scott is so stupid he can’t tie his own shoelaces.   I originally thought that they were worried that if I “took away” (whatever that means) Stiles’ position as the ‘smart one’ then I was saying that Scott was ‘better’ than Stiles.   But it is not that – if Scott’s not dumb, they can’t say that Stiles is better.

I had been mystified by the resistance I got, but I was reading a recent fiction, and when they had Talia, Peter, and Derek all says that “we should talk to Stiles, as Scott is stupid and naive” it all clicked into place. 


     he had been LOOKING for her the ENTIRE DAY. had he not threatened and obliviated a random fourth year Gryffindor, he would not have found her in the library – ALL BY HERSELF. not that he MISSED her NO – damn it, he was not the type to get attached to someone, especially to someone he might HATE. it was just – his STUPID tie is missing ; and only if MONTAGUE did not point it out this morning – on how he looked DIFFERENT ( on how he was just wearing his Oxford shirt and grey trousers )  that morning he would not care AT ALL – but the stupid, knowing smile his fellow Slytherin gave him – ). and now as he found himself staring at her back, he remembered what happened THIS MORNING – ‘  Scheiße, ‘ he mutters under his breath, pacing back and forth – he HATES her so much , damn it – but the image of her on the desk and how he had to use his STUPID tie to shut her up – it all happened so fast and it is … infuriating him. ‘ calm down, idiot, ‘ Theo tells himself once more, finally making his way towards where Sansa is. he does not say a word, and instead, he drags the empty chair beside her, and takes a seat ; he clears his throat, moving her chair closer to him, his long arm draped atop the backrest of Sansa’s chair, his leg almost touching hers, ‘ where the fuck is my tie, Stark? ‘ he finally whispers, jaws clenched as he tries to calm himself ; he also  avoids looking at her for some reason.

It’s stupid, pointless, time wasting and energy draining to focus and worry about things i have no control over.

small steps i can take to improve my life :)

1. clean my room. get all the clothes off the floor. organize and get rid of junk and things you don’t need anymore.

2. stop procrastinating your responsibilities. call about the stupid speeding ticket. tie up loose ends.

3. eat the best food you possibly can.

4. go to the gym and to yoga class.

5. listen to & discover new music.

6. if you feel like it’s time to move forward in your career start looking for new jobs & applying until you’re stable enough to launch your own business.

7. be open to attracting new people on your wavelength instead of getting upset about those who do not share your values.

8. meditate and become as relaxed as possible.

9. go for a walk in nature.

10. nurture your passion for photography.

11. try new things and be open to new experiences.

Being Friends With A Dream Dorito

I…I don’t- Just, go for it, man. You want Phantom Falls? It’s already killed me, may as well let my headcannons ruin your life too.

Enjoy, or whatever.

“Hey kid!” an unfortunately familiar voice called behind him excitedly, and Danny let his forehead press against the old spines of the books in the Ghost Writer’s library. He really didn’t want to, but he knew if he didn’t Bill would probably make something loud happen, and then they’d both get yelled at.

Danny swiveled on his heel and looked at Bill with the most annoyed expression he could muster. The dream demon didn’t have a mouth, just that stupid bow-tie and his singular eye that, combined with his triangular shape, made him look an awful lot like bad Illuminati symbolism. Knowing Bill, he’d probably created the entire organization.

“Hey Bill,” Danny said in an annoyed monotone, giving him a look that clearly stated how he felt about the dream demon interrupting his shelving for the library. Bill, of course, ignored him completely and actually floated a little closer. It was ridiculous, because he was a two-dimensional yellow triangle about one fourth of Danny’s height, but still managed to be five times more annoying.

Danny could see, out of the corner of his eye, a few ghosts almost turn the corner into the aisle where Danny had been reshelving books, but quickly backtrack when they saw the occupants. Danny wasn’t that feared anymore. A few years floating around the open green skies of the Ghost Zone and establishing something of a Justice System and basic society that didn’t rely on Walker, his reputation of being ‘dangerously powerful’ was overshadowed by his reputation of being helpful. It was Bill they were avoiding.

The dream demon was inarguably insane, maybe from all the years of immortality, twisted from a normal ghost into a frightening demon that could enter people’s dreams and even make people fall asleep (the obvious similarity to Nocturne wasn’t to be mentioned unless you wanted to get ripped apart by both of them at the same time). For whatever reason, the annoying demon had chosen Danny as his new BFF as soon as he heard that he had died, and often brought screaming candy and other magic trinkets to Danny like a cat delivering dead mice to it’s master.

It hadn’t taken Danny long to realize that Bill wasn’t much different from a cat. Well, obviously he was, he was once a human consciousness and he did terrible things, that he wouldn’t hesitate to tell Danny stories about, probably in hopes of driving Danny just as insane as himself. But Bill was like a cat in many ways too. He acted vain and proud (and nasty) to all except a few chosen, and once you showed him the correct amount of attention he started bringing your things and giving you attention as well, though still sometimes (all the time, really) acting like he was so much better then you.

Whenever Danny had tried to ask Bill why, out of all people, Bill had chosen to be friends with him, the dream demon deigned not to answer, and avoiding him for a while, probably tormenting poor confused humans in their dreams, so Danny figured it was best not to ask. He just kinda went with it, and let Bill bother him as much as possible. In the earlier days, once Danny realized what Bill did in his down time, he actively sought him out, because he figured it was better than Bill twisting the dreams of mortals for his own amusement, and probably scarring those people forever (and, if the stories were to believed, causing more than the occasional suicide or homicide). Now, he knew he couldn’t spend all his time with Bill because it would literally drive him insane.

“Phantom!” Bill squealed in a delighted voice. Well, as close to a delighted voice or a squeal with his sleazy salesman voice and no face. “Hey buddy! How have you been?”

“Fantastic,” Danny repeated, in the same monotone as earlier. He turned back to his shelving. After a moment of pause, Danny sighed internally, because he knew exactly what Bill was waiting for. “You?” he asked in a tired voice, rubbing his temple as he placed an old, leather-bound book by Franco Jrofhoughdnqueasydoe (which made Danny kinda Jrofhoughdnqueasydoe, just reading the name, if you get it. Ha.)

“I’ve got a great story this time!” Bill exclaimed as Danny turned back to the library cart. He inhaled deeply to get himself ready for the tales of insanity about to be unleashed on him, and grabbed another book.

“Oh?” Danny asked, feigning interest as he shoved Franco Jrofhoughdnqueasydoe over for Vanessa Jrniaouckkh’s study about prism’s and ectoplasm.

“You wouldn’t believe it kid!” Bill exclaimed, bobbing gently next to Danny’s head. Danny peeked out of the corner of his eyes at him, and couldn’t help a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Sure, Bill was a psychopath, but there was no stopping him, really, and he was kind of cute sometimes. Though Danny didn’t doubt if he ever said that sentence aloud he’s be stuck overshadowing a Tarantula for the rest of his immortal life (he’d heard Arachnaphobia was a bitch when stuck as a spider yourself).

“Guess!” Bill challenged him playfully. Danny tilted his head slightly at the dream demon and cocked an eyebrow. They stood like that for a while, staring at each other, neither one having to blink or breath, before Danny sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation and reached for another book.

“Okay, let me think,” he muttered sarcastically, making sure not to take out any of his frustration of the books he was shelving, fearing the Ghost Writer’s wrath. “It somehow relates to Dipper Pines.”

“How did you know?” Bill whines pitifully, and Danny rolls his eyes again, before turning to look Bill in the eyes.

“Lately,” Danny began, leaning his hip against the cart of books. “It’s all about 'The Pines Family’, but specifically Dipper.” Danny put up a hand to his chest and acted offended. “I’m beginning to think I’m being replaced.”

“Never!” Bill exclaimed, a little too loudly, and Danny winced for a moment, expected to be shushed, before remembering that this was Bill he was talking about here. Even Ghost Writer was afraid of him, after Bill had shifted reality so he’d been stuck in a tiny room with orange walls for almost a week. (Which would have been disproportionately hilarious except for the fact that GW was apparently paralyzingly claustrophobic. Something to do with how he died, and everybody knows you don’t bring that stuff up.)

“Okay, well, what was the story, then,” Danny asks, tilting his head a little to the side to demonstrate curiosity as he softly sets another book in it’s place.
Bill bobs up and down a bit faster in what Danny assumes is excitement before beginning his story. “So, I did tell you about how Pine Tree, Shooting Star, Question Mark, and Ice Bag wandering into the author’s secret bunker and Pine Tree actually chopped into his 'secret’ crush’s stomach with as ax on a hunch, right?”

“You mean Dipper, Mabel, Soos, and Wendy, right?” Danny asks from above Bill, having floated off the ground to set a book on the highest shelf. “I don’t really get what is up with you and the nicknames.”

“Predestined fate,” Bill replies, sounding the furthest from ecstatic that he’s gotten since he arrived here. Almost bored. “Anyway, the laptop is password set, right? Ha, best irony ever, really, they set it to protect themselves but they ended up ruining everything.”

Danny nodded vaguely. He was kinda out of it when Bill had told him who the mysterious 'Author’ was, so he didn’t really remember who it was. Somebody called Fiddleford? Stanley? Stanford? 2/3 chance it ended in ’-ford’, at least. Though, at the same time, 2/3 change it started with 'Stan-’. Who knew, really?

“Anyway, so Pine Tree immediately starts obsessing over the laptop, right?” Bill continues energetically. Danny mumbles something to let Bill know he’s listening as he stares incredulously at the keysmash of a name “Gdjweblrsifuoyralywlkobdsnewu”, which he couldn’t pronounce in his head if he tried, and he certainly wasn’t trying. He really was listening, though. The Pines Family had drawn him in, and know he was concerned for the safety of all of them (and the personal hygiene of poor Dipper, if he was to believe all of Bill’s stories.)

“Pine Tree’s going crazy trying to figure this thing out, and Shooting Star goes off and finds herself a new crush. Very handsome, name was Gabe, obsessed with puppets, though. Shooting Star is all over this guy, even though she promised Pine Tree that she would help him with the laptop thing. Seems to happen a lot with those two.”

Danny squints at the books he’s holding. “Gud-. Gud-juh-web…”
Bill ignores his efforts and continues with his story. “So, Shooting Star gets so caught up with this guy that she completely forgets about what Pine Tree’s doing, and when he confronts her, she guilt trips him into helping her. Though, admittedly, she doesn’t realize how important all of this is yet, or what would happen if she had helped. Her eccentric attitude would have figured it out of the third try! To think they were so close! Thank goodness for my quick thinking, right Phantom?”

Danny is frowning down at the book now. “Gud-juh-web-lars-if-oyra? Ayra? Oira?”

“Of course,” Bill preens. “I did an awesome job with that boy coming in. Just some dream suggestion, on my part, and I averted a disaster!”

“Gud-juh-web-lars-if-oira-alley…” Danny is squinting at the book in his hand like it’s worse than Skulker, but Bill just pats his back with a tiny hand and keeps on.

“Anyway, Pine Tree spends the week making lots and lots of sock puppet’s with his sister, while squeezing in as many passwords onto the computer as possible. He’s going about it logically, though, common words or phrases, pet names. He wouldn’t guess the right password unless he got a hint, right?”
“Oira-alley-wilk-ob-desen…” Danny mutters under his breath.

“With all these puppet’s around, of course I see my opportunity!” Bill shouted excitedly. “So, I just need to add a little desperation with Pine Tree to really seal the deal, right? SO I waited until he blinked next and, boom, instant sleep.”
“It’s Gud-juh-web-lars-if-oira-alley-wilk-ob-desen-ew-wu!” Danny exclaims happily.

“Congratulations,” Bill cheered sarcastically. Danny frowned at him, but then made a 'continue’ motion with his hands before turning to face away from Bill.

Anyway,” Bill says pointedly. “Pine Tree’s dreaming, and I make it look like the laptop’s had enough, and it’ll destroy it’s hard drive if Pine Tree doesn’t enter the correct password in the next five minutes. So I say I’ll give him a hint, right, in exchange for a puppet. Pine Tree, being the smart cookie he is, is initially suspicious, but, I mean, he’s twelve, so it doesn’t take too much convincing. He thinks I’m talking about one of the Sock Puppets.”

Danny turned around, floating about three centimeters off the ground, and crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you mean?” he asks suspiciously.

“Yeesh kid!” Bill exclaims, rolling his eye and slinging an arm over Danny’s shoulder. “You act like you don’t know what us demons can do.”
“I’m not a demon,” Danny hissed angrily, pushing Bill away from him and snatching another book.

“Touchy subject,” Bill mumbled, floating back neat Danny’s head. “Anyway, what I really meant was an actual puppet!” Danny stares at him blankly, and Bill would be almost fooled, if it wasn’t for the slight narrowing of his eyes.
“So the kid shakes my hand, and the usual stuff happens. Flickering lights, maniacal laughter, turquoise fire. Pine Tree was too naive to realize I meant his body as a puppet!” Danny’s eyes widened, and then narrowed as he glared at Bill. Was it his imagination or did the dream demon flinch a bit? Must have been his imagination, because Bill returns to his cocky-suave self in less than a millisecond.

“It’s been centuries since I last inhabited a body!” Bill drawls. He’s got Danny’s full attention now. “I forgot how it felt to feel. Pain is hilarious.”

“Oh yes,” Danny says sarcastically. “Ha. Ha. I love experiencing pain. So refreshing.”

“I know!” Bill agrees full-heartedly, seemingly missing the sarcasm. “Pine Tree’s body is so weirdly small. It felt hilarious slapping myself. But it wasn’t enough, even though his body kind of felt like lead.” Danny’s eyes narrowed again. “So I threw myself down the stairs!” Bill sang.

“WHAT?!” Danny shouted, before flinching in on himself. “What?!” he whisper-yelled that time. “You threw a twelve-year-old boy’s body down the stairs! Are you crazy?” A pause. “Yeah, I know you are,” Danny mutters ruefully, looking back to the library cart and rifling through the books to find the nearest author to the section of the library where they were.

“So, anyway, the kid is now a spirit. Not a ghost, though he kept calling himself that, so I let him-” Bill was interrupted.

“You know what?” Danny said, turning back to Bill. “No. I don’t want to hear this story. I’m going to assume that you decided to do the right thing, even though that’s very unlikely, and left the poor kid and his family alone. I don’t want to hear the story about how a raging psychopath overtook the body of a preteen and probably got him run over by a semi or something! Try catching me in a better mood later, or at least someplace where I can yell at you without feeling guilty!”

With that, Danny grabbed the stupid library cart and stormed to the next aisle, leaving a very conflicted dream dorito floating in midair.

My jokes are terrible. This fic is terrible. Everything is terrible. I have a raging headache and it stopped raining :(.

Until next time, yada yada.

the real reason I didn’t do a chris edit in my last photoset is because there are very few recent photos of noah fleiss. When you do get a nice quality photo of him, he’s wearing something stupid like a paisley tie over a striped shirt with a FUCKING DRAGON VEST.