the-hunches

Amy and the Egos...

Mark made sure to let the Egos know that Amy was absolutely off limits. She is free to roam their building (Ego Inc. as they’ve begun to refer to it) because even Mark would never try to tell Amy where she could and couldn’t go, but if they so much as touch a single golden hair on her perfect head, Mark would definitely put them in the ground.

Amy actively avoids Dark. His parasitic gray aura and snide remarks turn her stomach. It bothers her how much he looks like Mark—those same brown eyes that are full of deceit and hatred for her. But she prefers that hatred to the times when he tries to seduce her, using Mark’s own voice and mannerisms against her.

She goes to the Googles whenever she’s having trouble with her computer, and Yellow practically falls over himself at any chance to help her. Amy pretends not to notice the way his synthetic skin blushes deeply whenever she enters the room. The others, however, oblige because it’s in their programming and give Yellow sideways glares when they think Amy isn’t looking.

Dr. Iplier, at first, insists on giving Amy check-ups whenever he catches her in the hallway. Amy obliges because the Doctor is one of the easier Egos to talk to, but after a while, he becomes jealous of how much attention she gets from the others.

Wilford is Amy’s favorite, and while he tries to pretend that he doesn’t care for her company, he can’t resist an audience. He’s always making flippant threats, but Amy knows he’d never hurt her. In fact, there have been times when Dark has gotten Amy cornered, and Wilford Warfstache swoops in, candy-coated charisma practically lighting up the room, to drive Dark away, back to his office.

Bim Trimmer is Amy Nelson fan #1. She’s pretty sure he has a t-shirt with her face on it, not that he would admit it. He shows her his collection of tiny plants that he keeps in his changing room (a modified broom closet, but it’s still something). Amy secretly talks to Will about giving him a better space, and when Warfstache shows Bim his new room, he may or may not have dropped a few hints that it was Amy’s idea.

At first, Amy is scared stiff of the Host, but after a while, her curiosity wins out. She’s seen the videos of him as the Author, but the man that she finds hunched over his desk in the dark is not the Author. The Host is impressed that she isn’t fazed by the bandages, and when he finds out that she’s read his books, he becomes Amy Nelson fan #2. Together, they discuss the Host’s podcasts (which Amy listens to while she’s on her adventures) and his story ideas.

On rare occasions, Amy will spot the King of the Squirrels scampering through the halls with peanut butter all over his face, screaming something about his beautiful, fluffy subjects. She once tried to make a PB&J in the building’s kitchen when the King walked in on her. She forgot how high-pitched Mark’s screams could be…

{If you enjoyed this and have an idea for another imagine or a fic, please send me requests!}

maryloubird  asked:

There is a song by The Fast Romantics called "Why we fight" and ever since the first time I heard the song on the radio, I always thought it really fits Jamie and Claire's passionate relationship, and would make a really good AU prompt or fic. Do love all the mod's writing! :)

In our bedrooms we are free
deep in the guts of me
I love you violently
until the dawn’s early light

This is why we fight

Cool, fresh air whipped Claire’s face, the mad curls of her hair pushing free, her whole body thrumming with *life.*

Still she urged her horse to go even faster, galloping across the open field, leaping over streams and shearing the tops off wildflowers. Chasing the horizon.

So alive – and free – and full of joy.

Especially because of the man racing on his horse beside her – his red curls whipping around that fine, strong jaw she ached so deeply to touch, his blue eyes smiling in disbelief at her antics.

For she trusted him with her courage, and her daring, and her thirst for life. And he cherished them for the rare gifts that they were.

They hobbled the horses in their customary spot – a glade within the trees, on the far edge of the estate. Very private.

Three years now they had raced their horses – challenged each other. Always ending up at this same spot, which he had discovered by accident and which she loved as the one place she felt safe.

For here it did not matter that she was Lady Claire MacKenzie, wife of Lord Callum MacKenzie, an intimate of the King’s and one of the largest landowners on the border with Scotland.

It did not matter that he was Sir James MacKenzie Fraser, nephew of the Lord (via an acknowledged bastard line), an outlaw from his native Scotland come into the service of his feeble-bodied uncle. Who protected that which was valued most dear – the Lady Claire, sole heiress of the Beauchamp lands that had been subsumed into the MacKenzie holdings upon their marriage five years previously.

In this glade – cut off from the manor, and Court, and the stables, and everyone who constantly sought to isolate them and mold them into people they did not want to be – he was Jamie, and she was Claire, and they found refuge in each other.

“Tell me again,” she whispered, watching him play with the fingers of her right hand. Settled against a live oak whose trunk was wide enough to cradle the both of them – miles from prying ears – they dreamed.

“We’d sleep in my parents’ room,” he began, “in the bed I was born in. I’d wake ye wi’ the dawn – just when it’s light enough to see yer bonny face – and love ye, quiet, as the sun came up.”

She swallowed, and he dug his nail into the lines of her palm. She gasped.

“And ye’d ken in that moment just how much I love ye, Claire.” His voice rasped hot against her neck. His face turned against her cheek, nuzzling. “I’d freeze that moment in time, if I could – if it meant forever. Forever wi’ ye.”

She squeezed his fingers – watched his knuckles pop white – wanting. Wanting so much more than she could ever offer him.

“And then I’d hold you so close to me,” she swallowed. “Not believing what we have is real.”

Claire inhaled deeply – then released. “And then we’d need to scramble for our clothes because the children would come in.”

She felt his smile. “Aye – all of them, all at once. The eldest holding the youngest by the hand – settling into bed wi’ us.”

“And we’d hold them, and love them – let them know how much they were wanted.”  

“Because they are a blessing from God. And they will have choice over everything in their lives – how to live, where to live. What to do. Who to marry.”

Jamie undid the button at her wrist, snaking one large finger to trace the fine blue veins there. So soft.

“And then breakfast – and then you’d be off to tend to the animals, and check on the fields.”

“Aye – and then ye’d come wi’ me, bringing all the children, and yer wee basket of herbs too. Because ye never ken when ye’ll find something ye can use for yer healing.”

They knew this story – what would, could, would never be their story – by heart. It was woven from so many hours of loneliness – longing for the life they may have had, had dreams been reality.

Claire didn’t realize her eyes were shut – or that she had been crying – until Jamie began kissing her tears away.

She swallowed down a sob – but he knew, he always knew.

“Will we still be dreaming of this life when we are old and grey, Jamie?”

He kissed the tip of her nose.

“Is this – this moment now – all we will ever have?”

He kissed the edge of her mouth.

“Why do I keep dreaming of a life with you, when I know it will never come?”

He untied her bonnet, gently setting it on the grass, caressing her temples, gathering bunches of her curls into his capable hands.

“Ye keep me alive. And I ken I do the same for ye.”

He brought her brow to his, fingers tangled in her hair.

“That’s why. Even if it crushes yer heart, *mo nighean donn*. I canna live in a world wi’out ye in it.”

“But I want you to be my *whole* world.”

Fresh tears spilled. And he kissed them away again.

“Ye are, for me. Nothing matters more to me than yer happiness.”

Bravely he settled his hands on her hips – or where her hips would be, had she not been covered with so damn many layers of skirts and petticoats.

“Callum is no’ much longer for this world – everyone kens he marrit ye so that ye could tend him. You know as well as anyone – he’s no’ getting any better.”

She swallowed. “No.”

“So – when he dies, then that is our chance.”

“And what if he does not die soon?” Now her eyes opened, whisky eyes – the eyes that could get him drunk with just one glance – flashing. “He has already outlived all expectations. And then there’s Dougal – ”

“What about him?”

“You know that he’ll make a claim on me the instant Callum dies. And he’ll force me to accept him.”

“No’ if I have any say in it!” Jamie drew back, suddenly flushed. “Ye are no’ a plaything, Claire! Ye are a person – a whole, beautiful person – and – ”

“With the Beauchamp lands hanging around my neck,” she interrupted. Bitter.

“It’s my job to protect ye.” His voice was careful – measured – anger kept barely in check. “I love ye, Claire. I will fight for ye – Christ, I’d gladly *die* for ye, if ye’d let me. And if I canna protect ye at that moment – when ye’d need it the most – then I canna protect ye at all.”

He turned away, back hunched, head in his hands.

She knew better than to touch him.

“That’s why I’ve never even kissed ye, Claire. When the time comes, I want there to be no doubt. No whispers about yer virtue – no stains on yer character. For I may be many things, but I’d never play another man false. No’ where his wife is concerned.”

She crossed her legs beneath her voluminous gown, hands folded in her lap. Wanting so badly to comfort him – but damn him, he was right.

“And between now and then?”

Slowly he sat up – then crawled over to her – and took her hands in his.

“We race – and we dream – and we plan. We’ve never decided on names for the children.”

That got her to laugh – and his heart leapt at the sound of it.

“I do love you, you know.”

He kissed the back of one hand – and then the back of the other.

“I hope our son has a heart as selfless as yours.”

He smiled at her – and the world stopped.

“I hope our daughter will be as strong and confident as her mother,” he whispered.

The race back to the manor house was long over – and both horses slowed to a trot as they glided through the main gates.

Jamie was just behind her – befitting his station.

The stable lads were waiting to help her off her horse.

She slid to the dirt – and they bowed.

“Thank you, Sir James,” she called up to her knight, sitting quite still atop his mount.

He nodded in deference to her station.

And then she disappeared into the manor.

Jamie balled her handkerchief – which she had used to dry her brow after their race this morning, and then pressed into his hand as he helped her tie on her bonnet before leaving the glade – in his fist.

Through the upstairs window, he watched Claire enter Callum’s study and curtsy before his desk.

He said a quick prayer, then stepped out of the saddle, and led the horse to the stables to be cared for.

"Proper Fancied"

Request: Can i request a remus x reader where its after a full moon and she’s helping him to his dorm with the marauders but her dorm is first so shes about to go in but they all hear the other girls making fun of her (kind of like look at me I’m sandra dee) and they let it slip that she has a crush on remus? Thanks I love your log btw ❤️

Pairing: Young Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Crude language, sort of angst? Manly loving, lots of worrying, not much fluff ngl and a bit of a sadistic reader (you’ll see)

Word Count: 2399

I tried to make it cute but I did do this on separate days so it sort of turned? I honestly had no idea what happened since I tried to make it very light-hearted and Marauder-y! But please do enjoy this whirlpool of a shitstorm~ Don’t be afraid to give me your opinions either xx.


It’s the worst one you’d seen yet.

James had rushed into your dormitory not long back – they always seemed to somehow get past the magical slide - and had promptly dragged you out of the room without any explanation despite your frantic complaints of his sudden actions.

You were just about to clamber into your bed, the rest of the gals were Merlin knows where (they never really invited you with them that much, but you didn’t particularly care, you had four brilliant friends that meant the world to you), meaning you were still in some oversized shirt that probably belonged to Peter or one of the boys and some ridiculous looking pumpkin patterned shorts. Not the greatest of looks you had to admit.

“-James! What-what’s going on?” you hastily questioned as you nearly tripped over a step, his long legs striding further than yours could ever reach. His hair was in an horrendously disheveled state that you’d never seen since he had attempted to comb his curls back in your 3rd year. “Moony, he-” James choked out and your heart leaped as you realized that-

Oh my Merlin, he’s crying? What’s happen to Remus?

With the resolve of the determined Gryffindor you were, you halted, grasping a moving James by his broad-woahwhendidhegetthisbroad- shoulders and gently shook him. “James, calm down love. Breathe, tell me what’s happened before you drag me to my death?” You gave him a comforting smile, still keeping the wit in your voice, the last thing you want is an even more panicked James. He never worked well when he was crying; it always ended up with blurred vision, tripping, walking into walls and intensive hiccupping that resembled the squeak of polishing trophies that Filch made us do every week.

James shoved his glasses up on his head and wiped his face dry, “Its Moony- he,” sniffle “-it’s the worst its ever been, he’s proper banged up, we’ve messed up,” he looked up, his guilty eyes puffy and red, “Y/N, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

You completely forgot, it was the full moon that night. The boys never let you join in their animagi antics and to be frank you didn’t want to see someone you admired so much in unbearable pain. You knew Remus didn’t like you seeing him when his furry problem came about, he didn’t want you to worry nor see him in such a weakened state. Your feelings towards the sandy haired boy didn’t even waver when he first admitted it you, it even grew; you just felt so flattered and grateful that Remus trusted you enough to tell you.

If only I could do the same for him, feelings are ridiculous, I have decided.

You both hastily arrived at the hospital wing in record time and you had promptly burst into a sobbing puddle as you saw your Remus-abravestrongwonderfulboy- just laid there limp and so fragilebrokenscarred. Remus’s head rested on the pillow, a horrendous jagged scar slashed over his nose, barely skimming across his skin, the mark an enflamed red.

You collapsed onto the stools next to Peter, holding onto the shaking boy for dear life, his arms pulling you into the comforting embrace you certainly needed. Bless this boy, he definitely knew how to make you feel better.

And that’s where you stayed the whole night, hunched over a stool, one hand holding Sirius’s and the other tenderly grasping Remus’s. You all had to leave early morning however to escape the wrath of Madame Pomfrey if she ever found out we snuck in to see her most fragile patient. The four of you, minus Remus who still hadn’t woken up, dragged yourselves up to the Gryffindor Common room still half asleep with James mumbling something about hippogriffs taking McGonagall hostage and a giggling comment at your pumpkin shorts.  You had successfully snuck back into your dorm, the boys making sure to walk you there like they always did, then proceeded to shuffle to their own shared room. Slipping into your bed was no problem, your roommates were deep asleep and hopefully too smashed from last night to notice you weren’t in your bed.

You all did the exact same that night too, tiptoeing down to the hospital wing in the middle of the cold September air just to huddle by Remus’s side. You never pressed the boys to what had happened, you were curious but you didn’t want to know what danger they accidently placed themselves in.

Staring down at Remus’s face, the wound no longer looked sore or reddened but it looked much more calmed yet tender. This was definitely going to leave a particularly nasty scar. You were slumped on Remus’s right side, your head nestled in the crook of your arm, the hand mindlessly stroking Remus’s hair whilst the other drawing circles on the sheet. You couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard you tried, instead your absent mind whirled with thought preoccupied with the boy laid unconscious before you. The Madame said he had awoken earlier but his body needed the sleep so he kept drifting off asleep every so often.

The boys were all deep within their dreams, their slight snoring somehow calming you slightly. Your eyes heavily shut, stained from them being open for so long when clearing of a throat snapped you awake. Glancing down, your eyes met the tired, but familiar hazel azure that was Remus’s.

“Hi.” You softly greeted, trying hard not to choke up and cry in front of the boy. Remus gave you a tired smile despite how painful it must be to move his face, Hi Y/N.” His voice held a sore rasp to it but it sounded wonderful saying your name.

“How you feeling Moony?” You whispered, your voice shaking and you were well aware that the hand that was stroking his hair was now trembling ever so slightly. “Just a bit peachy.” Remus let out a little chuckle and you couldn’t help but snort amusement, “You look like you dueled Grindelwald and you’re ‘just peachy’, you absolute numpty.” you shook your head lightly in mock exasperation as Remus shook his light-heartedly.

“Well I you must know, I definitely feel better with you here.” Your hand faltered their strokes in his sandy locks and Remus suddenly cleared his throat, “-you all here, I mean. I appreciate it.” He quickly clarified as he glanced at the other boys slumped around him, his eyes filled with fondness and love that nothing in the world could ever compare.

You didn’t know what words to say to him after that so you left it, leaving the room in a comfortable silence with only the soft breaths and snores of the boys to fill the room. Ever so gently, they lulled your mind to peace and your eyelids shut with you fast asleep.


The next morning consisted of waking up to Peter crying over Remus, Sirius launching into an apologetic speech and James prodding your cheek rather uncomfortably, simply finding childish enjoyment of watching them squish together as drool unattractively dripped out of your mouth. You weren’t very happy to say the least.

When the lads all had their little sob sesh with a very overwhelmed Remus, it was our job to help support him up to the dorm room before the students filtered down for breakfast. All the way in Gryffindor Tower. The opposite side of the castle.

What followed was a lot of cursing; “merlin’sleftballsac-

A lot of fake reassurance; “I got this! I got this, yep I defi-igotthis-!”

A lot of complaints; “Why do you weigh so much! You’ve been snacking on the pork pies again haven’t you Remus.”

“Y/N why are you just standing there and not helping?”

“…I’m the visual motivation that keeps you going..?”

Slowly, but surely, you managed to support him through the portrait hole and up the dormitory stairs. However the boys were determined to see you to your dorm first as James calls it “A tradition for our lovely Y/N to show that we Marauders can too, be gentlemen!”

You all heaved yourselves up the girl’s stairs and made a few confusing twists and turns to your specific dorm room, Peter unlinking his arm from yours and dramatically bowing down to you as you let out a snort of delight. You thanked the boys generously and hastily, and you opened your door but paused when your name was called. Turning around you were met with the boys looking almost insulted. You raised a confused eyebrow, “What?”.

 “Didn’t think you’d actually go without a marauder hug!” James wiggled his eyebrows and a wide smile split open on your face, their hugs always were the cure to your low moods. You dived into his open arms as he rocked from side to side, his curled hair stuffing itself into your face. Peter was already hugging you dearly by the time James let go and you couldn’t help but laugh when Sirius lifted you away from him in his loving arms.

“Merlin Y/N! You’ve been snacking on them pork pies as well haven’t you!” Sirius joked as he put you down and you grumpily hit his arm, ignoring his string of apologies. He knew you loved him really. You turned to the last hug.

Remus stood by himself, no longer supported by the Quidditch fanatics, his arms wide and a knowing smile on his face. His hands motioned you to come close and you gently slid into his hug, careful not to hurt any of his wounds. The hug was warm and secure and you knew that your feeling for Remus were no longer a silly crush that you had dubbed in your mind. You’d never think of Sirius or Peter or James in the same way you viewed Remus, you felt selfish and guilty though, hiding your feeling in the form of being “just best mates”.

Suddenly, you heard a very mocking laugh which broke you and Remus from your hug. You turned to the sound to realize it was only your roommates and it came from the slightly ajar door you left open. You gave the boys an apologetic look, but before you could actually apologies, another voice you recognized as Denise echoed throughout the hallway.

“Y/N’s probably fucking one of them now and I’ll bet you two galleons that it’s Black.” Her claim was followed by a fit of giggling and followed by stunned silence from us. None of us made a sound, too shocked by what just had occurred.

“Nonononono! I saw her rushing out with Potter the other night and she hasn’t even slept here for the past couple days. My money’s on Potter.” The high scratchy pitch that had replied was Tracey, the sound of rustling and rummaging could be heard followed by a triumphant “Aha!”. The girls let out “oooohs” and snickers as you heard Mellissa mockingly clear her throat.

“Ladiiesss and gentlemen! May I present the atrocious wardrobe that is Y/N L/N.” She sang and your throat closed up, you knew you never had the best of clothing choices and you couldn’t believe they were rummaging through your stuff!

“Look at me~ I galivant like I’m a marauder, and I act as if I’m the next best thing since water~” She crooned, giggling as she presumably ridiculed me across the room. Denise let out a loud laugh, wheezing so bad she resembled a dying whale, she interrupted Mellissa’s singing with a wave of her hands.

“That’s Remus’s shirt and all! She’s definitely screwing Lupin, only someone like him would pity her.” She cackled and you felt fury blaze in your blood but before you could storm in there to show her a piece of your mind, Tracey’s words impacted you the most.

“Well she did say she proper fancied Remus.”

Embarrassment, humiliation and most of all, shame shot through your body as tears brimmed your eyes. You could see Peter look uncertainly between the door, Remus and you but you didn’t want to see the sandy haired boy’s reaction. You didn’t want to see his disgusted expression. You strutted forwards, your thoughts whirling with numerous plans of revenge.

“Excuse me gentlemen, I have three cunts to dispose of.” Rage ignited within you and you ignored Sirius’s warning before you stormed into the room, magically locking the door behind you. A string of furious hexes left your mouth and chaos ensued the room a few seconds later.


It was rather satisfying, letting your feelings out.

You sat on your bed rather giddily, surrounded by some of your favorite treats from the numerous times you snuck out to Hogsmeade, a couple fashion magazines and a nice warm mug of Butterbeer you got one of the house elves to fetch you.

You were in the middle of reading why Jobberknoll feathers wouldn’t complement your skin tone when you heard an owl pecking at your window. You gave the bird an exasperated look from across the room but shifted all your stuff to the side before making your way to the window located on the opposite side of the room.

You passed Denise who was intensely looking at you in fear, her usually golden hair half singed off, now a horrid neon yellow and a feather magically tickling her feet, however she was helpless; Frozen by the full body-bind curse you had sent her way, leaving her needing to squirm and laugh, yet unable to do so.

You let out a delighted hum as you stepped over a ‘‘Petrificus Totalus’’ed Tracey who was sporting a rather unattractive green hue with purple boils, and made your way over to the window. Unlatching it you saw that the owl had a note attached to its leg, you gave the cute thing a little treat and you had noticed its eye was looking confusingly behind you. You turned around and snorted, understanding its immense confusion.

“Don’t worry love, you’re not seeing things, she’s human.” You reassured the brown beauty, referring to Mellissa who strung up- upside down and was covered in feathers from head to toe and had antlers sprouting out of her forehead- she too placed in a full body-binding spell. You shut the window and trotted back to your bed, sliding under the warm covers and unfolded the dainty note.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I ‘proper fancied’ you too. xx”

.: how to catch a nerd 2 :.

this series is going to be my favorite thing to write tbh ♡

Since I’ve got so many readers hyped for this story, here’s an early update ♡

previous: http://hey-underoos.tumblr.com/post/161180873356/how-to-catch-a-nerd-1

[how to catch a nerd taglist]: @parker-barnes-af , @preciousnewt , @samanthasmileys , @lostinghemazewithhallows , @1022bridgetp , @literature-loving-girl , @fashionlive15 , @raksh-thedemonlady , @tiny-friggin-human , @clean-and-claire , @imsecretlyromanburki , @devan-d , @legendarydazekitten , @fxcking-meatball

don’t repost/plagiarize this series.

——

Peter couldn’t hide the grin from his face the more he talked to this girl. She clearly had an intelligence that matched her beauty, and that just made him all the more interested in her. [Name] embodied everything he ever wanted in a girl, and he looked forward to getting to know her better.

Unlike the girls at Midtown who only wanted him for his looks and for the chance to climb up the social ladder, he knew that [Name] was different. They never wanted to get to know who was beneath this cool guy exterior, and Peter was tired of pretending all the time.

Which was why he was was so drawn to [Name], maybe with her, there was a chance.

Keep reading

pinetree2003  asked:

30.Septiplier please?

30) “It’s not what it looks like…”

Jack finished up recording his final episode for the day and dropped his headphones on the desk with happy finality. He spun around in his chair a few times to burn off some of the excess energy, then stood up and stepped into the kitchen.

Now that he had his headphones off and he was out of his soundproof room, he could hear what he hadn’t been able to hear before: loud, over-exaggerated grunting and moaning. Jack frowned. Had Mark left the TV on?

A quick stroll through the living room proved that he hadn’t. Turning, he traced the noise back to his bedroom, where more confusion and a bit of fear began to mount.

The door was closed but unlocked, so Jack opened it without introduction and came face-to-face with something that made his blood boil: Mark, shirtless, propped up on his elbows, hunched and enthusiastically pelvic thrusting into a woman whose bright red hair was splayed all over the pillows.

He didn’t even think about it first. Jack grabbed the first thing to his right–a fern, it turned out–and hurled it as hard as he could at Mark’s head.

“OW! I–”

“WHAT THE EVERLOVIN’ FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED?!” Jack roared. Mark whirled to face him as he marched up to him, pulling his fist back to break his stupid nose, and he raised his hands in quick surrender.

“JACK! WAIT! ITS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!”

“Like hell it–” he was in the middle of saying as Mark caught his fist and forced his arm to the ground with infuriating ease.

“No, I’m serious! Look!” Mark grabbed the woman’s head off the pillow and held it up, and for one horrifying second Jack thought he’d beheaded her, but then he realized it was a redheaded mannequin head. Mark then ripped off the covers to reveal a row of pillows underneath to represent her body.

“See? I’m not even really naked.” He jumped out of bed and gestured to his basketball shorts. “I told you I was filming a sketch today. Shit, Jack, you really think I’d cheat on you?”

Jack glanced over and, seeing Mark’s camera propped on a tripod, felt his face turning bright red. “I dunno, I…I forgot you were filmin’ today. What was I supposed to think?”

“That I don’t sound like that when I have sex?” Mark suggested, clearly trying not to laugh. He pulled Jack in and hugged him tightly, and Jack hid his face in shame. “Come on, I’d never do something like that…especially now that I know you’re gonna try to bash my skull in if I ever do.”

Jack snorted, pushing him away. “Yeah, better look out. I’m fierce when I’m pissed.”

“Uh huh, APPARENTLY.” Mark strode over to the camera and shut it off. “That was the last clip I needed, anyway. Are you hungry? I’m craving Thai food.”

“Really? That’s random,” Jack laughed. “We can go if you get dressed.”

“Why? Maybe if I go shirtless, we’ll get free food,” Mark teased, even as began rifling through their dresser for an outfit.

“Yeah, OR you’ll get hit on, and I’m already on edge as it is. I’ll meet you outside.”

“You’re no fun, you know that?” Mark replied, and Jack laughed as he felt a sock being thrown as his head on the way out.

Send me a number and I’ll write you a drabble!: http://tiny-septic-box-sam.tumblr.com/post/161206912929/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you

My useless headcanons:

- Mulder is a bit of an empath. This guy has such an incredible emotional intuition that they call him Spooky. His hunches are always right. He can get into the minds of even the most reprehensible, twisted members of society. He’s great at understanding people, manipulating them, connecting with them - but still chooses to remain solitary. If that doesn’t scream empath, I don’t know what does. 

- They both love it when Scully’s the big spoon. She presses her cold little nose between his collarbones and hooks her knee around his hip and tucks her other foot between his calves and threads her sharp little fingers through his chest hair, and even though she’s so much smaller than him, he feels safe and soothed and cherished in a way he never has before. 

- Scully would kick Mulder’s ASS at Mariokart. Mulder would keep drifting off of the edge of the track. She plays as Donkey Kong.  

- Mulder has a big thing for Scully’s sweet little feet. 

Favorite thing about Ty:

He slammed his headphones down over his ears and was running through the empty lane of the Market. His shoulders were hunched, as if he were warding off blows that came from all sides, but his hands were steady when he reached the stall at the end, the one with caged faeries. He began seizing the cages, yanking them open one by one. The pixies and nixies and hobgoblins inside poured out, yelping with joy at their freedom.

Bucky Drabble

A/N: uh, so I havent uploaded in forever, so here’s just a random drabble I put together real quick. This isn’t going to be on my masterlist for a little while (when i say a little while i mean however long it takes for me to remember abt this)
~~~ (im on mobile so i cant put actual breaks)

You hunched over your bright laptop, furiously typing an overdue mission report. Eventually, you wrapped up your report. Once you sent it off to whatever poor soul has go through these things, you leaned back in your chair. Rubbing your face, you sighed contently at the feeling on your cold fingers gliding against your hot cheeks.

The soothing pitter-patter of rain filled your empty apartment. You dragged yourself over to the couch you had overlooking vast windows that lined the walls of your apartment to watch the storm. Occasional strikes of lightning you light up the skyline. You held your breath in anticipation of the strong rumble of thunder following seconds later. It was a process. Lightning. Wait. Thunder. Repeat. Over and over.

After a long time of watching and listening to the violent storm, three soft knocks to your door interrupted the tranquility of your process. You shot up from the couch you sat on and bore your eyes into the door. After a few seconds of silence two more knocks rang out from your door.

“Friday,” you whispered, “Who’s at the door?”

“Mr. Barnes,” Friday answered.

You practically jumped over the couch as you ran to the door of your apartment. You whipped open the door with high hopes, only to have your heart sink to your toes. It was as though the blank wall was laughing at you for being ditched. You took a deep breath and turned back to the door.

“You’re awake?” Bucky asked. His rough voice filled the hallway. His voice cracked despite the fact that he had been whispering. He had been yelling.

“You had a nightmare.” You turned to Bucky’s voice. He was standing halfway down the hallway from your door. He looked disheveled; hair in a low, knotted bun, sweatpants pulled down on one leg, bunched up on another, and wearing a wrinkled t-shirt.

Bucky shrugged. “Yes and no.” When you raised an eyebrow, he continued, “Storms, they stress me out, remind me of my days with them. Wasn’t a nightmare as much as it was an environmentally invoked panic attack.”

“Environmentally invoked panic attack,” you smiled and laughed tensely, “haven’t heard that one before.” Bucky chuckled a little with you. You looked back at him and stepped away from your door. “Come on in.”

~~~

“Here,” you handed Bucky a blanket that you had taken off of your bed. You walked over to the large window in front of your couch and pulled the blinds out in front of it and took a seat down next to Bucky.

You unravel the blanket in his lap and threw it over the two of you. You slid closer to him with caution. Bucky looked into his lap and took a big, unstable, breath.

Bucky looked at you with wild eyes. They darted around the room, scanning it, as though there was a threat. Then, his eyes landed on you, and almost shamefully, he said, “May I?”

You nodded slightly. Bucky jumped forward and curled up against you, tightly wrapping his arms around your waist, and tucking his head in your chest. His body convulsed with silent, violent sobs. You buried your face into his head, placing soft kisses there. Your hands gently ran up and down his back.

It was silent, the only noise breaking it being Bucky’s heavy breathing or sniffs. The occasional rumble of thunder would break through the silence as well, making Bucky tense, and you to hold him tighter.

On a superficial level, this interdimensional visitor doesn’t really look any different from the Steve that Tony’s spent ten years of his life with. He looks angry, yes, all hard lines and hunched shoulders, but so did Steve the last time he saw him, hovering over Tony’s chest with his shield high in the air, ready to strike a fatal blow.

“So,” Tony says, and tries not to drink in the sight of not-Steve. Still alive Steve. “How’s Earth… 1610? Tell me I’m not out of comission around there.”

Steve frowns. “You mean, you have cancer here too?”

Tony smiles. “That sounds wonderful, but no. I don’t.”

Steve keeps his eyes on him, studying him. He’s probably comparing him to the Tony Stark he knows. “You’re sober.”

Of course that’d be the first difference. Tony snorts, and picks up a bottle of water from his workbench so he can offer some to Steve. He’s still unsettled by how much he looks like his– like Steve (angry, dead and buried Steve) and he swallows past the lump lodged in his throat and closes his eyes just for a moment, so he can compose himself. “Been sober for a while, I’m afraid.”

Something like approval glimmers in Steve’s eyes. Tony tries to pretend his heart doesn’t clench at that.

Something must have been obvious on Tony’s face, because Steve (not-Steve) is frowning at him now. “What’s with you?” He asks, his tone brusque and a little bit snappish.

“Nothing,” Tony croaks. His eyes sting.

“I’m just really glad to see you again.”

10

OMG WHOEVER EDITED THIS IS TALENTED AF 😍😍😍😍

(This is not mine)

Recently found out these were by lettherebedoodles follow this blog right now 😍

Nothing like giving your love a massage~

This is my Secret Valentine for @stellatiate! Much love!

Please do not repost

check please characters as stuff my theatre friend has said/done
  • Bitty: "I have a theory I'm actually short people just tell me I'm tall" -him after me complaining about him being a foot taller than me
  • Jack: accidentally sent me a danny devito meme in the middle of sending me dogs to cheer me up
  • Shitty: told me my name was groovy when I came out as nb to him
  • Lardo: I was intimidated by him for most of the shows until i saw him silently take someone's phone to search teacup pigs and pomerainians to share the cuteness. i've sent him one (1) cute animal every morning since.
  • Ransom: told me the only things he's living for are brownies, his best friend, knowledge, and communism. in that order.
  • Holster: laid on the floor next to his best friend and when i asked what they were doing, reached for his friends belt buckle and made to undo it
  • Nursey: was on a mutual friend's snapchat story in one video reciting the actual cannibal shia laboef video and the next video explaining neo-liberalism
  • Chowder: is referred to by aforementioned friend as "the ray of sunshine in this dark, dark world" because he's a sweetheart
  • Dex: told me the only thing that actually exists is math and that he had to write a paper on it, then proceeded to tell me his deep hatred for math despite being very good at it
  • Tango: has existential crises on a daily basis. sometimes over text with me.
  • Whiskey: "If I had emotions I'd be the same way" -his response to me saying I'm softer than talc
  • Ford: freaked out when i sent him a bootleg of heathers with the original cast
  • BONUS:
  • Johnson: "Ok what if corn are alive and can communicate and we just smash them and combine them with chemicals and eat them" -a direct quote, after autocorrect turned spirits into doritos
6

Birthday part 10 (CollegePapyrus) END

It’s Sans’ b-day and it seems things are looking as gloomy as always…

Prev 

First

  • Harry: i'm telling you, Malfoy, you must have messed it up.
  • Draco: impossible! even Granger couldn't reach my level accuracy with potions!
  • Harry: *shrugs and looks around the classroom* well, everyone else got their love potions to work, and i don't feel any different. you must be off your game.
  • Snape: *overhears*
  • Snape: *sighs and pinches the top of his nose*