the other side is worse

consider: cameos for both Cassian & Jyn in the Han Solo movie, wherein they narrowly miss meeting each other

This fic rec is totally in reaction with this Fic Fest saying they don’t want fics from “tinhats Larries” (**** ***).

So this is a all ships inclusive fic rec because you know, PETTY AF. And you should follow @larriedinvegasficfest , because they’re organizing a fic fest opened to ALL SHIPS.

- Truly, Madly, Crazy, Deeply  : In which Liam and Louis wake up married after Zayn’s bachelor party in Las Vegas.“Louis’s right here,” says Liam, elbowing Louis in the back. Louis sticks a hand out from under the blanket and waves. “We had quite a lot of champagne.” The whole room swims and Liam hopes there’s a toilet where he can be sick.“Not sure there’s enough champagne in the world to get me naked in bed with Louis,” Niall giggles.“We’re allowed!” Louis shouts from under the blankets. “We’re married!"There is a long and very startled silence. (30k, Lilo)

- And You’re My Ever After  :  [Harry and Louis are two strangers visiting Vegas. Harry just wants to have fun and Louis just wants to get over the cheating bastard of his ex fiance. They accidentally get married.] (273k, Larry)

- if a reason is what you’re looking for (i’ll be yours)   : Louis is in Vegas. When he wakes up he isn’t alone in his bed. And apparently not single either. Thank god annulments are an easy thing to get. Well, that is until your management decides you can’t get one but have to pretend that the whole thing wasn’t a drunken mistake but in fact, an act of love. (16k, Tomlinshaw)

- bright light city (gonna set my soul on fire)  : accidentally married in vegas fic. (14k, Lirry)

- what happens in vegas  : Harry and Zayn get drunk, and get married in Vegas AU. (33k, Zarry)

- Just the two of us and a cute little cup of cyanide  : Or an I-accidentally-married-my-best-mate-in-Vegas fic, where Liam’s completely oblivious, Zayn’s completely in love, Harry’s had enough, Louis plays mediator and Niall just wants his best friends to be with each other. (17k, Ziam side Larry)

- for better and for worse  : Niall’s head falls happily onto Louis’ shoulder, and they look at the makeshift rings, hands held up next to each other and wavering on drunk unsteady arms. "Probably it was, like, a joke, right?” Louis says. “What hotel are we even in?”“The Wynn,” Niall mumbles. Trust him to remember the travel plans but not whether they fucked or tied the knot last night. (7k, Nouis)

- That’s What You Get for Waking up in Vegas  : When Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles’ lives go to shit they both have the brilliant idea to escape it all and head to Las Vegas for a much needed break from the real world. It’s not until they wake up the next morning with hazy memories and cheap plastic rings on their fingers that they realize their troubles have only just begun. (60k, Larry)

- it’s a beautiful night (we’re looking for something dumb to do) : In which Nick ends up in Vegas for Harry’s half-birthday and leaves with a famous popstar husband in tow. (12k, Tomlinshaw)

- show me your love  : niall and harry go to las vegas as best friends and go home married. (8k, Narry)

- What Happens in Vegas   : AU. Based on the movie What Happens in Vegas. Harry Styles has just been dumped by his boyfriend of six years.  So his best friend Niall suggests a weekend in Vegas to help him get his mind off things.   Clandestine encounters with Louis Tomlinson plus way too much alcohol, and Harry finds himself waking up in Vegas with a ring on his finger and one half the winner of a $500,000 jackpot  prize. (31k, Larry)


Dear SJWs (obviously not all sjws are like this):
- rape isn’t a gendered issue
- you can be racist to white people, and misandry is real.
- even if cisphobia and heterophobia isn’t real, you’re making it real everytime you say cis/straight people should die, and “how evil they are”.
- if you want to know if you have a mental condition, go talk with a professional.
- saying “you don’t need dysphoria to be trans” is like saying “being trans is a choice.”
- black lives do matter, but the movement is extremely violent.
- stop ignoring the bad things women have done.
- islam is not a feminist religion.
- you aren’t preaching for equality if you are hating on men.
- stop hating on bisexual or trans people for being in a heterosexual relationship.
- gender/sexuality doesn’t make a good character.
- police brutality has no color.
- diversity should not be forced. if you want diversity in a tv show, book series, or webcomic. make your own.
- being gay/bi/trans/ace doesn’t make you interesting, it should be an aspect of you, not who you are (if that’s the right way to say it.)
- fiction will only fuck with your reality if you let it, there is obviously going to be content you hate. but don’t hate on fans for liking something you don’t. just ignore the content.
- don’t punch nazis, it won’t help with shit and eventually they’ll fight back.
- don’t suicide bait people for disagreeing with you.
- “don’t assume identities” when you assume everyone who disagrees with you is a cis white male.
- intersex is not a whole new sex, it’s a condition
- there’s a difference between legal and illegal immigrants
- don’t force your beliefs on other people.
- the main reason why most people hate the down with cis joke is because it’s mostly used as an excuse to hate on cis people.

….and for the anti SJWs (and obviously not all anti sjws are like this)
- getting offended doesn’t mean anti free speech
- don’t be upset when there is a show with diverse characters, makes you no better than SJWs yelling about lack of diversity in a show.
- (not all anti SJWs do this but) hating on someone for disagreeing with your views and then saying “don’t fight hate with hate” is hypocrisy.
- not being against feminism =/= SJW
- dear white people isn’t a big deal. it’s just content, and if it doesn’t entertain you, you have the rights to avoid it.
- blocking people =/= being a pussy.
- not everything you don’t understand is from SJWs
- don’t suicide bait people for disagreeing with you.
- don’t force your beliefs on other people.
- yes it’s true, obesity should not be praised, but there is a line between flaming someone for their appearance and showing concern for their health.
- don’t hatefollow people, there’s no point in doing so tbh.
- honestly don’t tag people to fight your arguments for you.

feel free to add, , ,

There’s something that needs to be addressed in ALL discourse, on ALL and ANY sides.

If you are told someone on your side is problematic, responding “people on the other side are too/are worse/etc” is NOT a good reaction. 

What should happen is you say “How was this person bad? I will not reblog from them or support them from now on.”

Then, tbh, you can say “there are others on your side doing the same, this is them, please do the same.” 

Please stop responding hostilely to people calling out people on your side. Everyone needs to be ale to call out problematic people without fear.

By just saying “what about the people on your side?” and not addressing the actual matter, you are basically saying “i dont care what this person is doing because your side has someone that does it too” and you are supporting them.


Connor didn’t know what was on the other side, he’s lucky that it was water and nothing worse like hard pavement.


It took them a lot of time to adjust to each other’s standpoint, to get used to what the other thought right. It required a lot of disagreement, growing up and internal struggle from them both and also a lot of respect, despite how much torn they were by what they felt was wrong. But long before they promised each other to be there by each other’s side “for better or for worse”, it had already been between Jane and Lisbon, though unspoken and quite often contradictory, with them being unable to function properly without their partner, and life gradually losing taste. Consciously or otherwise, they depend on each other and seek approval and support, and understanding they could never expect from anyone else.

[Right, so. P sure I’m officially obsessed lmao. Anyways here’s the third and probably final part of the tale of The One With Many Names, also known as My Blatant Self Insert. Hope it doesn’t break canon too much, please enjoy, and sorry for spamming! (also i still have No Idea What I Am Doing ahahahaha.)]


Eventually, as everyone knew ce would be, The One With Many Names was Taken.

Spectator, the junior who watched people and noticed patterns, sharp-eyed behind the shadows of their hoodie, collected their bet. They placed a pittance of their winnings on Many-Names coming back.

It was mostly out of pity.


Your memories are doing The Thing again, and you cannot for the life of you remember the sequence of events that led to place you in the Elsewhere. But you know you are without iron, and your backpack is missing, and you should be terrified. Except They took you Elsewhere early in the morning, when you were stumbling your way to your eight am class, and you are far too tired to really care.

(You still have your dog tag necklace. Putting it on is too deeply ingrained into your morning ritual for you to forget it. This is a small comfort.)

You stare up and around at the Elsewhere despite knowing that you shouldn’t. Your eyes settle on something with too-sharp teeth like needles, shades of blue like ice and ocean, vaguely humanoid in shape but with proportions defying normal physics. You close your eyes and take a shuddering breath. Your eyes hurt. It’s too fuckin’ early for this. You consider the questions you could ask, from the informative (‘why have you taken me’) to the Actually Helpful.

You go for the latter.

“If I tell you a story,” you say slowly, carefully, “will that work as payment for my freedom?”

The fae hisses, and you flinch, wishing that you had your notebook with you, or at least another hour of sleep on your side. “You presume?”

“I, I, I have heard your–the, the stories humans tell of you,” you say, stumbling over your words, “the stories the students tell of you. They say you will free us if we bargain.”

“And you come,” the fae says contemptuously, “and bargain a mere bedtime tale? Stories have power, child, but I have heard so many before. You would have to pay something more than a paltry rendition of a well-worn path to return to your realm.”

“If you don’t want my stories,” you say in return, “then why?”

You blink, and the shades-of-blue creature is upon you, cupping your chin with icicle fingers. “You shift,” it says, “You are not fixed. You have a touch of us in you. Thus, you are ours.”

You squeak, and cower, and cover your eyes. You take deep breaths until the frostbite of the creature’s fingers fades. Then–your fear carrying you beyond terror and out the other side, knowing you are dead or worse than anyways, you speak.

“If you have not taken me for my stories,” you say, and pause, and swallow hard, “th-then y-you, you don’t–” You stop. Collect yourself. Attempt to speak with confidence. “You do not know of my skill. I would not tell you a mere bedtime story. It may follow a similar path as others, true, but…”

The fae tilts what passes for its head at an unnatural angle. You breathe in deep and make your bargain. “A story. A tale. If it pleases you–if it pleases an audience, mayhaps–I am to be released. Sent back to my realm. If not…” You swallow hard, knowing your next words would seal your fate. You are not willing to speak them. You hope the fae will speak for you.

It does not, of course. You close your eyes and damn yourself. “If not, I accept the fae–the touch of You I have inside me.” ‘Do with me what you will’ is not said, but you both know They will if you lose.

“Deal,” the fae says delightedly, “Begin telling.”

“If it pleases an audience,” you repeat. Perhaps a variety of opinions would be what damns you, but relying on the tastes of a single fae…if the story you have in mind displeases it, then you are lost. Better to have a security net of varying opinions.

The fae narrows eyes dark as ocean abyss and hisses. You flinch. “An audience,” you repeat anyways, “I said, if it pleases an audience.”

“You said mayhaps.”

“My stories are my talent,” you say, “if this is the last one I tell, I want it to be remembered.”

Amazingly, this works. You get your audience.

You stand in front of the fraction of a Court, wishing you could write or type the words rather than say them. You are afraid.

But you know your talents. You know your stories, you know your characters, and it is not the first time you have told this tale. If all else fails, you have the phrase ‘but there is always more to the story,’ a gimmick you can pull out to expand and continue if the fae do not like it quite as much.

If you are honest with yourself, you will probably pull out that “gimmick” anyways. You love your stories and characters too much to not expand on them. You close your eyes.

You gather your thoughts. You take a deep breath.

“This,” you begin, “is the story of Phoenix Song.”


It is nearly a year before Many-Names stumbles back into the normal world. Ce comes back somewhat confused and half-glowing, as though some internal light has given cer an aura of confidence. For all that, the glow is entirely human and largely metaphorical. Cer changling leaves as ce moves back into cer dorm, all smiles and laughter. The kind of smiles and laughter that covers deep, deep relief.

People ask how. Ce replies with a grin. “They love a good story, didn’t you know?”

Spectator attempts to get a fuller explanation, because for all their perceptiveness this has still totally blindsided them. Many-Names explains about the world ce’d spent five years in the making.

“I picked the one that I thought would appeal the most to Them,” ce explains. “Well, that and I actually had it figured out to the end.” Ce says maybe ce’ll show you cer old notes. “If they still exist, anyways,” ce adds thoughtfully, “I think I might have given the story to the F–Fair Folk. It’s a worthy trade.”

Many-Names leaves out drawings with cer ice cream and milk now. Sketches, colored with pencils, sharpie-lined, printed digital art in full color and shading. All labeled with names. They are always gone in the morning. Spectator thinks, to their great disbelief, that Many-Names has managed to create a fandom.

This is bad for cer. This is very very bad.

“They aren’t going to let you leave, you know,” they tell cer, “Not if you keep giving them content.”

Many-Names pauses in the middle of a sketch. “Well,” ce says eventually, “there’s always the internet.”

“You’re not getting it,” Spectator decides, and tells cer, “You can’t leave, Many-Names. Can’t go home. Can’t see your mom. Can’t go out and get another job. You’ll have to stay. Become a teacher, or whatever. You have to stop talking to Them.”

Many-Names considers this. “I can’t just cut off,” ce tells them, “That would be rude. I mean, they’ll forget soon enough. Or I’ll get tired of drawing stuff. But as long as we’re both interested, well, they get art, and I get these things.”

“These things,” Spectator repeats. Many-Names flicks a hand at cer windowsill. There is a bright red feather that almost glows, an image of a hammer, a glass crafted phoenix that seems to burn internally, a music box, and a crude, human-like figure.

“It’s like fanart,” ce says in a delighted tone, and Spectator gives up. They’re graduating this year, they don’t have time to pull a delusional freshman out of cer dealings with the Gentry. Ce seems happy, anyways.


And life in Elsewhere University carries on.


Devoted (Negan x Nina)

Summary: Nina gets shot during the fight in Alexandria.

Characters: Negan, Nina (OC), Rick, Carl, Sasha

Word Count:  1,861

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, Fluff

Author’s Note: This fic was requested by anon who sent:

‘Can you do a negan smut. Where he left his wives for nina, they love each other. She’s a marital artist and is the one who shot rick in S7 finale. And beats him in front of everyone when she gives him to negan, and gets shot badly at gun fight needs to be resuscitated in the van and ends in smut? Lot of fluff xxxz’

I struggled to incorporate the martial artist element, but I think I got the rest. Thank you for the request! I hope this is to your liking!

Originally posted by jdm-negan-mcnaughty

Keep reading


Request: “An imagine where the reader is Chibs’s daughter who is a trained killer who does kills for other SOA Charters. She meets Happy when the reader is burying a body. They fall in love until she is shot in the head in front of Chibs and Happy.”

Guys, I cried while writing this, omg! Don’t forget to comment, reblog, like and follow! I love hearing from you guys! Xoxo

Mo Ghra is Scottish for ‘my love’


           “Yes dad, I’m fine, just a little knick to my side, “ you told Chibs, “the other guy looks much worse, trust me.”

           “Where are ye?” he asked, to which you immediately gave your location. “I’m sending one of my guys to help ya, no arguments please mo ghra.”

           You rolled your eyes but agreed, hanging up the phone and began digging the hole you were set to put the body in. You weren’t sure how long you’d been digging when the sound of a bike made you look up. A slim, tan guy with no hair came up to you.

           You nodded to the second shovel you had brought with you, “I’m Y/N.”

           He nodded, “Happy.”

           You laughed, “That doesn’t fit you at all dude.”

           He shrugged, “You did a number on this guy. What’d he do to you?”

           “Oh nothing. This is just a job to me. Lee from the Tacoma Charter called and said he needed someone dead, and I’m the girl for that, so here we are,” you explained nonchalantly, continuing to dig, “It didn’t help that the bastard grazed me with his blade. That did make his death a little more painful.”

           Happy laughed, which took you by surprise because, despite his name, he did not seem like a joyful person. “Damn girl, you’re somethin’ else,” he told you as the two of you hoisted the body into the hole and covered him with the dirt.

           “I’ve been called worse,” you told him, winking as he helped you take your tools to your truck.

           “Where ya headed?” he asked, leaning up against the truck, lighting up a cigarette and offering you one.

           Taking the offer, you shrugged “Nowhere in particular. What ya got in mind?”

           Happy shrugged, “You could come back to the clubhouse and see who can outdrink who?”

           “Oh, you’re so on, man,” you told him, laughing as you jumped in your truck to head to the clubhouse.

*Two years later*

“Babe,” you called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Happy said, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

You giggled as he trailed kisses from your jawline to your neck. You moaned, “As much as I would love to stay in bed with you, I have a job. I’ll be back later okay?”

He groaned but nodded, “Alright, I love you girl.”

You kissed him, “I love you, Hap.”


Despite being contracted with SAMCRO, you sometimes took jobs with other people too. You went where the money was. Getting out of your truck, tight grip on your gun, you walked up to the man you had talked to on the phone the week prior.

“Y/N,” he said with a smile on his face, extending his hand.

“Hello Mr. Pope. What can I do for ye?” you asked. You were shocked when more men came out from behind the buildings, which made you immediately raise your gun.

Pope laughed, “Put that away, Y/N. Regardless of who you shoot, you’ll be taken down right after.”

You slowly set your gun down and kicked it to him as you were grabbed from behind and forced to sit on your knees next to Pope’s feet. “What do you want?” you asked through gritted teeth, “I’m not gonna beg for my life, dickhead, so shoot me if that’s what you’re gonna do.”

He laughed, “Oh, Y/N, you may not beg for your life, but I know two people who will. I need you to be as quite as possible or I’m gonna shoot your dad and your old man, do you understand me?” You nodded as you heard the rumble of bikes in the distance, and Pope walked off.

“I want the bald one and the Scott in cuffs hooked to the ground, “You heard Pope order and tears filled your eyes as for the first time in your life, you were terrified of what was about to happen. A long time went by before Pope came back and jerked you off of the ground, pulling you behind him as he walked.

You gasped as you saw Happy and your dad tied up, struggling against the ties once they saw that he had you.

“Let her go you fuckin’ prick,” Chibs yelled, with his own tears welling up in his eyes as Pope tossed you to the ground.

“Get up and kneel girl,” he ordered, watching you do exactly as he said, “I told you all from the beginning that I was not one to fuck with, and you fucked with me. There are consequences for your actions, boys.” As he said this, you felt the cold steel against the back of your head and watched Happy and Chibs both struggling against the cuffs, begging Pope to take them instead.

“I love you,” you mouthed to your two favorite men.

Happy wailed as the gun went off, falling to the ground as your lifeless body fell. “Maybe this will teach SAMCRO not to fuck with Pope Enterprises. All of you have more family, just remember that. Your guys are on their way with a key. Have a nice day, gentlemen,” Pope said before getting in his car and leaving.

“Happy! Chibs!” They heard Jax yell.

“Over here,” Chibs called back.

“Holy shit,” Juice said as he came around the corner and saw Y/N’s body on the ground. He quickly went to unlock the cuffs on Happy and Chibs as the rest of SAMCRO came around and took in the scene. Happy immediately got up and ran to his bike, taking off before anyone could say anything. “Juice, follow him, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Jax ordered.

Chibs went over and picked your lifeless body up as he cried, smoothing your hair out of your face. “Mo ghra, I love you.”

anonymous asked:

I'm so fucking ready to shoot up my school. I've given everyone chances, but it's never worked out. They've given me hell for so long. Could I get a gun? Absolutely. The only thing stopping me is my small friend group who are somewhat kind to me. But everyone else? I'd love to see the life drain out of their eyes. I'd be fucking to hear them begging for my mercy, to unleash my wrath on them, and have them pay.

Holy fuck, you should do it. If they’ve given you hell, give them worse.
I’ll see you on the other side, when you get there, tell Eric and Dylan that I need their help locating weapons.


Request: Could you do an imagine of Jason or Tim having a polynesian s/o and they don’t really understand why they’re hyped for Moana (release, getting oscar nominated, auli'i singing at oscars, etc) bc its just a Disney movie? But then the s/o has them sit down and learn all about their culture and the significance of the representation and by the time of the oscars they’re as hyped as she is? Bc this was me with my non-poly friends, I loved teaching/explaining everything and how they were so open to it

AN:  I  didn’t really know a lot about the culture going into this, but I definitely tried my best.  Hope ya’ll like it.  Also thanks to @readthiswrotethat for helping me out.

Tonight was date night for you and Tim.  And as of right now he was taking to long in the kitchen.  You leaned over the couch and yelled at him.  “Tim can you…”  Your voice trailed off as your eyes caught sight of the screen.  “Oh my god.”  you said to yourself.  

There on the screen was a preview of when Moana would come out on DVD.  “OH MY GOD.”  Your screaming caught Tim’s attention as he rushed into the room with the popcorn in his hands.  “Y/N whats-”  You grabbed the pillow and threw it at him; all while shushing him.  He put the bowl on the table and wrapped himself around you.  

By the end of the preview you were too engrossed to notice Tim running his hands up and down your legs.  And then you turned to him with a giddy look on your face and started to smack his arms.  “Tim did you- Oh my god this is the best-”  

“Woah Y/N, slowww down.”  He laughed and put his arms on your shoulders and braced you.  “Besides what’s the big deal?  It’s just a movie.”  You grabbed his face and brought him closer to you.  “The big deal is that there’s finally representation for the polynesian culture.”  He pulled back from you.  And with a confused face with that.  “But there’s plenty of movies?”

You shook your head at him.  “But its just that… Tim you’ve always had accurate representation.  I jus- never mind.”  He sensed that the mood of the room wasn’t like how it was at the beginning of the night.  So trying to make it better he said, “I mean, it can’t mean that much.”  But that just made it worse.  You huffed and moved to the other side of the couch.  And for the rest of the night things were tense.

By the end of the night you were both in bed.  You felt him come up behind you and wrap his arms around you.  He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.  “I love you.”  His face fell into a frown when you stayed silent.

Days later and there was still an uncomfortable silence between you and Tim.  You acted like everything was ok, but he could tell it wasn’t.  And as of right now, the two of you were working on one of his cases.   You watched from the corner of your eye as Tim sighed and rubbed his forehead.  A habit you knew so well.  A habit that wasn’t from stress, but from guilt.  
He got up to move the files off of the table and onto the chair next to him.  You didn’t move your head when he sat on the spot in front of you.  “Teach me.”  “About what?”  you asked.  Your hands stopped typing and you looked up when he answered.

“Teach me about the culture a-and why this means so much to you.”  He grabbed your hands and started to toy with your fingers.  “Well I mean it varies from island to island.  But for some part of it there’s similarities.”

While you were talking, Tim had led you to the couch.  He sat the two of you down and pulled you into his lap.  “And when I see anything related to the movie, I get so happy because they have everything down from the horticulture, to the tattoos, to the legends and-”  By the time you ended the sentence you noticed your rambling.  You stopped to look at Tim; and you continued when he nodded at you to continue.  

“And with the tattoos, they were down to the detail.  They made sure that those tattoos were authentic, and not just some pretty designs.  And then there were songs that were tokelauan, which…”  Tim watched as you talked.  Halfway through your hands had began to move with every word, everything coming out of your mouth dripping with passion and importance.  

Before you knew it you spent the whole night telling him about being Polynesian and how amazing it was.  How amazing it was that there was finally a movie that didn’t belittle something so important to who you were.  

“And like, both of the mains are actually polynesian.  And Auil’i is even going to perform at the Oscars!”  It was evident how happy you were, with a grin stretched across your face.  Being able to learn about something so important to you made Tim just as happy.  Maybe even more.  

Your eyes wandered over to the clock; where you saw just how late it was.  Worry covered your face.  You turned your head to apologize.  “Oh my god Tim-”

“No.  This was important to you.  I would’ve stayed up forever just to listen to you.”  You stared into his eyes.  And then you squealed when he swooped you into his arms.  Tim walked you to the bed and dropped you.  You layed with your front facing his.  

“Besides,” he said.  “You got me hyped for her performance.”  You laughed and then pulled him in for a kiss.  “I love you Tim.”

Trust Pt. 5

A Jared/Joker x Daughter Crossover Fic

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4


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"When the kissing sound doesn't come out..."
Kaji Yuki, Nishiyama Koutarou, Maeno Tomoaki
"When the kissing sound doesn't come out..."

Kaji’s “unrelatable embarrassing experience”

(from Kiznaiver “KizRaji” public recording, morning part)

In this corner titled “Reach for Your Goal, Kiznaiver of Solitude! ‘Only One’ Championship Match,” each seiyuu needs to share an embarrassing experience that the audience should find hard to relate. After each seiyuu’s story, the audience will indicate that they can relate by applauding, and the seiyuu who gets the least applause wins.

Kaji volunteered to go first, and here’s how it went…

Nishiyama: Now, let’s listen to Kaji-san’s embarrassing story. Please go ahead.

*stereotypical gentle music for storytelling starts playing*

*laughs from the audience*

Kaji: Pfft! It’s not like I’m gonna tell something nice, what’s up with this music? *switches to a storytelling tone* It all happened –

*laughs from the audience*

Kaji: – in the summer of last year. I went to the recording studio as usual. But my job that day was neither anime recording nor movie dubbing, which I get to work with other people; it was a game recording. I was all by myself for half of the day. As for the game, it was the type of female-oriented game that we call otome game. In the last scene of the game, I needed to say a lot of sweet lines, and, you know, insert some *chu~(kissing)* sounds…

*laughs from the audience*

Kaji: But, maybe because I was nervous or not used to saying those lines, I kept stumbling over my words, especially at the important places. I ended up saying “I like yo– *stumbles*” And after that, the “lip sound” I was supposed to make turned out to be something like, like, “bu”…

*laughs from the audience*

Kaji: Sometimes my kissing sound just doesn’t come out properly… And I guess that would be my embarrassing moment. Bye-bye~

*laughs from the audience* *music ends*

Nishiyama: Thank you very much!

Kaji: That music was totally unexpected!

Nishiyama: I know.

Kaji: That was an embarrassing background music.

Nishiyama: And you are the first one to go…

Kaji: But (messing up on kissing sounds) itself is really embarrassing.

Nishiyama: I understand.

Maeno: I know I know.

Kaji: I guess every male seiyuu understands how that feels.

Nishiyama: When the kissing sound doesn’t come out, it really is…

Kaji: It’s weird… Like when (your lips) are dry… You have to make them moist enough…

Maeno: We usually don’t make that kind of sound in the first place.

Kaji: Exactly! *lol* We don’t do that kind of stuff usually!

Maeno: We don’t go “chu~chu~” like that.

Nishiyama: We don’t go “chu~chu~”…

Kaji: Although it’s embarrassing, we still do it. It’s like, “Can I go now? Muah!~”

*everyone laughs*

Nishiyama: *laughing* Yes yes.

Kaji: That sort of thing feels really embarrassing.

Maeno: *lol* Should I say what you just did is a little weird…

Kaji: Plus the fact that the staff is watching you from the other side of the glass… It’s even worse if you use the dummy head mic…

Maeno: I know right!

Kaji: Imagine saying and doing that sort of stuff to such a coarse face… It’s quite a scary scene. It’s just really embarrassing.

Nishiyama: It really is.

PS: Kaji was one of the winners for this contest(?)… The most enthusiastic applause he received was from Maeno lol.

antiquebabe  asked:

Omg can you write one where they're about to adopt Lily and one of them freaks out and I can't rise a child I still forget where my keys are what if I lose her in the park or something and the other calms him down can you do it please? Also I love u!

The call had come in at three in the morning. The house phone, a very out of date thing to have according to Will, had rung through the house with its shrill tone, rousing Will before he woke Nico to answer it.

Half asleep and more agitated than reasonable, Nico shuffled out of the room and for the phone. “Hello?” he snapped.

“Nico? It’s happening. Like, now, right now, we’re on our way to the hospital.”

“Nora?” Nico questioned. “Wait- Mikaela- now?”

“Yes!” she answered. “Hurry!” The dial tone rang into Nico’s ear and the phone fell from his hands.

“Will!” he shouted. He raced back to the room and shook Will until he was awake. “It’s Mikaela. She’s going to the hospital.”

“Is everything okay, what happened?” Will asked, immediately alert. Nico tugged on a pair of jeans and faded shirt.

“She’s going into labor, you dork!”

Will shot out of bed and tugged on a pair of shoes and a jacket. “But she’s not due for a month!” he answered. Nico shrugged and grabbed his wallet and keys. “Nico, let me drive, you see far too anxious to do it yourself.” Nico hesitated, but relinquished the keys.

As they drove to the hospital, Nico couldn’t help but bite his nails. “What if she doesn’t want to give her up? A lot of people back out when they have their kids, Will.”

“I know, amore,” Will said in his soothing doctor voice.

“It happened once already,” Nico recalled. “She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know what she wants. Once she holds her, she’ll want to keep her.”

“Nico, she promised-”

“She’s only seventeen, Will, her word means nothing!” Nico snapped.

“Nico, baby, breathe,” Will said, as they arrived to the hospital. “It’ll be okay. Just breathe.” He parked and nudged Nico to get out of the car. Together they raced through the winter chill into the hospital and the nurse let them through the second he saw Will.

Nico followed and they went into a room where a young girl with voluminous wavy hair was panting as she lay in a hospital bed. A few curling hairs were matted to her forehead with sweat and she looked over at them with dark brown eyes for a second before she shut them and winced in pain. Her mother, a woman with sleek black hair, growing gray at the roots, sat beside her, shushing her soothingly.

“Hey, Mikki,” Will said standing on her other side. “Don’t hold our breath sweetie, it’ll only make it worse.” Mikaela let out a breath and began panting again.

“How much longer?” she cried. “Are you going to be my doctor?”

“I’m not on the clock right now, but I’ll be right here. Nico too.” Nico stepped up beside him and smiled at the teenager. She screwed her eyes shut as a stronger contraction overcame her. Will pressed the button beside her and a doctor came in. “Can you please check her? The contractions seem too close together.”

The doctor nodded and apologized for the delay. “Well, it looks like we’re almost ready, sweet pea,” he drawled. “Just a little bit more, all right?” He stopped a nurse and spoke to her for a moment. “Okay we’re gonna move you to the delivery room and give you the epidural, all right?” Mikaela nodded quickly, wincing. “Dr. Solace, you’re staying with her?” Will nodded. “And your husband?” Nico nodded as well. “Alright. Just don’t crowd the doctors.”

A nurse came in to wheel Mikaela out of the room and into another. The young girl had tears streaming down her face, but didn’t cry out or yell. She just grit her teeth and let the doctors take her.

“Is it safe to have a baby this much in advance?” Nico asked Will. Will glanced at him worriedly and didn’t answer which only made Nico’s worry flare. There had been too many almosts for Nico and Will.

The first time they tried to adopt, the woman suffered a miscarriage. The second time, the woman had decided to keep her son at the last minute. He didn’t want to have gotten this far only for his future child to die before he could hold her. They wanted a child. Why couldn’t they have one?

The next few hours were a blur for Nico. Her mother held one hand, Nico held another and Will stayed with the doctors, consoling the young girl. Nico was aware of her grunts and her soft cries, begging for it to be over. He was aware of the doctors assuring her she was doing great, of her mother telling her she’d be fine.

Will cut the cord. They’d agreed on that a long time ago. But they didn’t let Mikaela hold her newborn.

“What is it?” she asked breathlessly. “What’s going on? What happened to my baby?” The way she said that made Nico tense and he gripped Will’s hand as he explained.

“Listen, Mikki, the baby was born premature, so her liver wasn’t fully developed. They’re going to keep her here for a while to help her get better. She’ll be fine, okay?”

“I-I can’t hold her?” she asked as renewed tears streamed down her face.

“Not right now, Mikki. I’m sorry,” he said.

Nico sat down and put his face in his hands. Will left the room to talk to the doctors and Nora left to get Mikaela something to eat. “Nico?” she whispered tiredly.

Here it comes, he thought. He looked up and tried to look supportive. “Yeah?”

“Would you name her Liliana? Please?” She blinked tiredly. Nico felt a knot form in his throat. “I’ve always liked lilies…. Could you name her that for me?”

“You mean… you’re still giving her to us?” Nico asked in a whisper.

Mikaela’s brown eyes opened and she furrowed her eyebrows. “Yes,” she answered. “I just wanted to hold her once before I did….”

Nico stood and crouched beside her. “You can still be a part of her life. If you’d like?”

Mikaela shook her head. “That wouldn’t be very fair…,” she whispered hoarsely. “I can’t just give her up then pop in every now and then. Trust me, my father tried. It doesn’t work.” She took a deep breath. “I’m still just seventeen. I have to finish junior year and graduate and get into college. I can’t be a good mom.” She looked up at Nico and smiled. “But you will be a great dad. And Will too. You both care so much.”

It suddenly hit Nico then. He was going to be a father. He was actually going to have a kid. Nico, who often forgot to eat breakfast, who always left the television on, who always lost his keys- he was going to be responsible for another sweet, innocent life.

“I-I have to find Will. Sleep a bit,” he told her. She nodded and leaned against the pillow. Nico left the room and sunk to the floor trying to keep himself from falling apart.

“Nico?” It was Will. “Hey, what happened? Listen, the baby will be fine. Modern medi-”

“I can’t be a dad!” Nico blurted. Will blinked in surprise and frowned. “She’s actually giving us this baby and- and- I mean….. Will, I can’t even handle myself, you have to do that for me, how am I going to take care of this little fragile baby? I mean-”

“Nico, whoa, hey,” Will interrupted, pulling him up off the floor. “Look at me, amore.” Nico did. “You will be an amazing dad, okay? You care so much and I know you would do anything to keep her safe.” He kissed Nico’s forehead. “You’re not doing this alone, okay? We’re in this together.”

“But, love, babies are… they’re so small and I can’t bear hurting her what if I fuck up? I don’t know how to do this, Will, I can’t do this.” Will sighed and shook his head.

“You’ve wanted this as much as I have, Nico. You’re ready.”

“I have, I have wanted this. But it never seemed real until she said she was still going through with it, I mean-” Will covered Nico’s mouth with his hand.

“Shut up,” he said with a smile. “Come with me.” He took his hand and led him down the corridor and into another until they came to a room. Will went in and Nico followed. He saw an aluminum lined bed with what looked like a light above it.

As he got closer he saw a small baby inside. Her skin was tinged slightly yellow, her eyes were covered by dark plastic like sunglasses. Her head had wisps of dark hair that glinted against the light shining down on her. Her small hands were curled into tiny fists, her chubby legs bent her feet pointed outward. There was a clip at her belly, holding the umbilical cord. Her stomach moved up and down as she breathed.

“Is this her?” he whispered. Will nodded.

“Now you look at her and tell me if you would do everything in your power to protect her. Tell me if you would do anything to make her smile, to keep her safe, to make her happy.”

“Yes,” Nico breathed. “I would. I’d do anything.”

Will took his hand and kissed his cheek. “Then you’re ready to be a dad, Nico. You are a dad. And that’s our daughter.” Nico felt a smile spread along his face and her brought Will into a hug as laughed and his eyes watered with tears of joy.

“We’re a family,” he murmured against Will’s shoulder.

James McAllister: Last day on Earth

James McAllister is my Mass Effect: Andromeda Oc, who will be a squad member to @slugette ‘s Moon Ryder. 

Thank you so much, @slugette for beta reading and for always encouraging me to keep writting! I’m so happy we’re doing this again! :D

The buzzing sound of an old electric system was muffled and lost beneath the cacophony of unintelligible conversations echoing all the way up to the high ceiling of the dirty concrete wall cafeteria. Beneath a set of blinking lamps that no one cared enough to replace, several men in a similar dress code greeted morning in the exact same way they had done the day before.

There was a certain religiosity in morning coffee and luckily, in the 6 years James McAllister had been serving in the London penitentiary, the inmates had learned to respect that. He sat alone during breakfast, at the table closest to the window, where a small ray of sunlight might decide to pay him a visit. He liked his coffee strong and black with no sugar, but he still enjoyed the routine of swirling the plastic spoon a couple of times before taking it lazily to his lips.

Long gone were the days of lurking the corridors and sneaking into the cafeteria in search of whatever crumbs the kitchen staff would hand out to him. These days his coffee was hot, the kitchen inmate picked the fresher slice of bread for him and his favourite spot was always waiting.

Boredom dictated that every morning he mentally reviewed the last chapter of whatever book he had been reading the night before. This day, however, his mind was elsewhere. Today, as he had learned just yesterday, was to be his last day in prison.

“You are granted place in the Hyperion arc if you so wish,” the grey haired middle aged lawyer James hadn’t seen since his trial had said as soon as he entered the visitor’s room, long after the visiting hours were over. James was to be discharged the following morning at the care of the Andromeda initiative, or serve the remainder of his time in prison. No explanations, news or messages from the outside world, just a proposition with no time to ponder. “I am not authorized to discuss further than your acceptance” was the only answer he was given as to why the Initiative was approaching a convicted murderer with such an offering.

A rough voice behind him called James back from his thoughts. “You’re in my seat, Princess.”

Now this was new. Rather, it was old, but it was definitely something that didn’t happen in recent years. James had enjoyed his hard won, but well deserved, “don’t-fuck-with-me” status, which meant no one would come up to him alone and expect to be left standing. So this tall, large man in his mid thirties had to be a newcomer, trying to pick a fight to leave an impression.

Such impressions in prison determined their survivability chances. If you were regarded as prey, your days were numbered. If the top dogs with underlings saw you as a competition, you wouldn’t last long either. This applied to the prison guards as well. Guards controlled half of everyone’s lives and needs, the inmates the other half. And it was hard telling who’s wrong side was worse to be at. No chance to to guess if you’d end up beaten, forced work, lose whatever little possessions you were allowed, or raped.

So James didn’t take it personally. Acting tough did seem like a good idea for him on his first day too.

He took a last sip of coffee before suddenly pushing his chair back at the same time as he jumped to his feet. In one quick movement, James took a step sideways, grabbed the new comer by the hair and slammed his face hard against the table. Twice.

The loud repeated sound of bones clashing metal hushed the cafeteria just enough for the running footsteps of the guards to echo on the worn out tile floor. Silence couldn’t be interpreted as surprise in this case, however, brawls were everyday’s business, but no one wanted the guards to think they had any part in it.

By the time the two guards stationed at the door reached James, the new inmate was already laying on his back on the floor, leaving only a small red puddle where his nose came in contact with the metal table. Now in this kind of situations, a blunt hit to the head would be customary. James braced for the impact that never came, and found himself treated as gently as to have his arms twisted behind his back.

“Enough, break it up!” said the guard, pushing James roughly to the front, “let’s go, asshole.”

“You’re gentle this morning” James teased, gambling with his luck as he always did, while being taken, handcuffed, through the damp smelly corridor, “someone lubed your pockets?”

“Shut up, fucker,” the guard barked pushing him to move faster.

James stopped on his tracks, turned around and look straight at the guard. Uncaged hatred lit his blue eyes, the sort of anger that was nursed for years, and was now pulsing to become more than a mere lullaby. “And if I don’t?”

The guard didn’t have time to answer, as James headbutted him hard across the face. It only took a second, and the man staggered momentarily, blood running down his nose and lips. James used his weight to trip him, and the guard hit the floor. James then kicked him hard on the stomach. Once, twice, three, and four times. Each time harder and more determined.

The corridor had cameras, of course, and other guards would come running in any minute, but not applying retribution when he had the chance tasted like consent. James kicked him once more, this time in the head. He wouldn’t be sated by killing this one guard, but it would be a start.

But just before delivering another blow, James stopped and tried to regain his composure. Whatever deal was made with the Andromeda Initiative, another death might end his chance of starting a new life. “Remember this moment and how easily I could have killed you,“ James told the guard gasping for breath before walking away.

He slammed the door open on his own and felt slightly underwhelmed that no sunlight blinded his eyes with the promise of freedom. The day was grey and desolate, as any London morning ought to be, with cold wind whistling through tight spaces and fat drops of rain hitting the courtyard.

Still unaware of what happened just on the other side of the door, the two guards stationed outside paid him no heed, focusing their interest on the vehicle parked on the other side of the street. Outside the barred gate, a black limousine and two men in suits stared at the prison and stood up straight as soon as they saw James.

James’ heart pounded fast, but he wasn’t sure if he was just eager or angry. Were is parents inside the vehicle? In the 6 years he served in prison his mother and father haven’t visited him once. Were they ashamed of him? Disgusted? Did they fear him? Were they alright? “To hell with them” had been his determination years ago that he would stick with now, even if he couldn’t deny there was certain longing beneath all his wrath.

James exited into freedom with a steady but rushed pace, unsure of what would happen when the guard inside was discovered. And the first drops of rain touched his skin. A million small freezing needles stung his face one by one, and in the first second, James could almost count them. But it wasn’t the touch of the cold water that startled him, for more often than not the prison showers had nothing but freezing water. The fact was that it was dropping from the sky. So high above him. Freedom was pouring heavily down on his head, cold, overwhelming and unstoppable, crushing him on the spot. Had he been alone he would have fallen to his knees and laughed, instead he closed his eyes, wiped his face and moved on.

As he reached the limousine, the driver opened the backseat door for him. James stopped and looked at the man before entering. He wasn’t sure if he had been able to hide his shock at the words the driver had just spoke. They echoed something so distant and almost unreal, that James couldn’t help but wondered for a second if there was still even a trace of the bright and promising young man who had crossed that gate all those years ago. He knew who he had been when he was brought up there, and he knew who he had become in prison. He wasn’t sure who would be getting out. “Good morning, Mr McAllister,” the man had said respectfully as he opened the door.

Serendipity (Namjoon x Reader)

Meeting you was an accident. However, Namjoon sees it as a positive moment in his life, even though he’d accidentally made a mess of the storage room in the process.

a holiday collaboration with @taesthetes and @zephyoongist

JOIE DE VIVRE | Yoongi + Hoseok | Namjoon | Jungkook | Jimin | Taehyung | Jin

3.2k words, namjoon/reader, fluff, college au.

Certain club meetings wouldn’t be so bad if:

1. There was free food. Like donuts. You’re really craving donuts right now.

2. You didn’t have to freeze your ass off walking from building to building.

3. You actually did things at the meetings and were productive.

You sigh and uncross your legs, drum your fingertips against the table. It’s been twenty minutes and the room is still in full chaos: people chatting, playing games on the computer, screaming. One kid in the corner is somehow managing to do his homework amidst the din. A group of freshmen behind you bickers over who stole whose underwear and whether or not they were justified in doing so. The club captains mill about and crack jokes, make no move to actually get the meeting started and get whatever the hell was supposed to happen, well, happening.

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