they are not his weakness and they never will be

anonymous asked:

Are you implying Riza would've let Roy die and viceversa? I'm sorry, but comparing Eruri to Royai is just so silly. Royai were always truthful with one another, and there to help each other during their times of weakness. Eruri is completely the opposite.

I’m pretty sure Riza held a gun to the back of Roy’s head when she thought he was at risk of losing his humanity. And I’m pretty sure if a situation occurred where letting Roy die was an ultimate act of love, she’d follow through with it. Happily, they never faced that situation.

I’m also pretty sure the whole “help each other during their times of weakness” applies to both. Erwin gave Levi a life and a purpose. Levi returned the favor a dozen times over but most significantly in chapter 80.

But mostly, the person who sent the ask wanted my opinion so I gave it. You are perfectly entitled to having an opinion of your own and if you send me a message off anon and I’d be happy to ask your thoughts on Eruri and Yumikuri. But as it is, these are my two favorite manga relationship because of how they were forged and what they represent. I see differences, but also many commonalities between them.

weak and powerless

Little angel, go away, come again some other day
The devil has my ear today, I’ll never hear a word you say
Promised I would find a little solace and some peace of mind
Whatever, just as long as I don’t feel so—

Dean’s standing at the motel window, watching the summer night outside. Rain’s coming, a breeze picking up as the clouds roll over the flat, boring landscape. He takes a sip from his beer, lets it dangle against his thigh, and then big hands come and settle on his hips, a broad chest coming to rest against his back. He closes his eyes. “Stop it,” he says.

“Why,” Sam says, soft. Not-Sam, that is. This shell, empty of anything that makes his brother his brother.

Dean’s tired. It’s been—a long, long year. The last few months have felt even longer. “Not interested,” he says, and takes another swallow off his bottle. The wind’s picking up, whistling against the eaves of the long low buildings.

Sam hasn’t moved. “See, I know that’s not quite true,” he says, quiet. His voice is so familiar. Thumbs slip up under Dean’s t-shirt, stroke gently over the bare skin of his waist—that’s familiar, too. “You like it, just the same as you always have. Otherwise, you’d move me yourself.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Dean says, and drains the rest of the beer. Sam releases him long enough to take the bottle out of his hand and Dean lets him, opens his eyes and rests his temple against the window frame. The bedside lamp’s on and he can see their blurry reflection in the dark glass—Sam taller, looming over him, though his face is just a shadow.

A wide soft mouth presses a kiss against the skin behind his ear, where he’s always been sensitive, and he shudders. He presses a hand down over Sam’s, on his hip, and it feels—it feels like Sam, like his brother. He knows that it’s not. He knows that. “We shouldn’t,” he says, but it sounds weak even to him.

Sam snorts, though he kisses Dean again, too, lower, against the side of his neck. “That ship sailed, don’t you think? When I was, what, fourteen?”

Another kiss, sucked soft against the back of his neck, and a hand slips forward, cups the lower curve of his belly, long fingers dipping down to the front of his jeans. “You know what I mean,” Dean says, but it’s gravelly, low, because—because yeah, he doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on. Still. “You’re not—you’re not you.”

“Who am I, then?” Sam says, and then Dean’s being turned around, his shoulders pushed up against the cool glass, and there’s his brother. Still the same goofy hair, still way too tall, still big and muscular and still looking at Dean with those dark, wanting eyes, long fingers still tucking into Dean’s jeans at the back.

Dean watches his face. There’s hunger, there. That’s not fake, he’s pretty sure. He can’t tell if there’s anything behind it—only, he knows there isn’t. His body’s waking up regardless, though, and he wonders if it’s something that he’ll ever escape. Like that dog, in the experiment. His blood and his stupid dick and his heart, all awake and pounding because almost fifteen years’ experience have him trained to respond to his brother. He closes his eyes. Even to this shoddy excuse for a brother, apparently.

Sam sighs. “You didn’t mind two weeks ago,” he says, still speaking quiet and low. This must be his seductive voice.

Two weeks ago he thought—he doesn’t know what he thought. That this was his brother, only that he was sick, or something. That the curious impersonal quality to his eyes, his mouth, to the way he rolled over and out of bed as soon as they’d both finished, was something to do with what had happened to him, in the cage. Dean had run out of Lisa’s house as soon as Sam came for him, he’d thrown himself back into hunting, into Sam and the life, and hadn’t wanted to question it. Anything was worth bearing, to have Sam back.

A thumb presses against his lower lip. He tips his head back against the window and it follows him, rubbing back and forth across his mouth. Firm, but not hurting. “Why are you bothering with me, man?” he says, lips moving against Sam’s skin. He opens his eyes to find Sam watching his mouth, and catches his wrist, pulls his hand away. Sam’s eyes flick up to meet his, and they’re—god. It’s so hard to tell. “Why come back in the first place?”

He gets a frown for that, Sam’s expression going thoughtful. “You’re—” Sam pauses, like he doesn’t know which lie to offer, and Dean pushes away from the window, walks over to the bed. He’s tired. He doesn’t know why he asked.

His arm is caught, though, and before he can move away Sam’s dragging him in close and he’s being kissed, firm and precise, Sam’s mouth on his as familiar as breathing, as fighting. He’s pulled in, big palm cupped over his skull, hand at the small of his back, dragging up his spine as Sam presses his mouth open, and he lets it happen. Sam always liked his back. It feels—it’s good. All those months with Lisa, being normal, being someone else, it might have been what his Sam wanted, what the real Sam made him promise to do, but like this, Sam’s hands gathering up his face, Sam’s tongue in his mouth and Sam’s smell, the feel of his skin, the weight of him—it’s something else. Something to cling to.

He’s pushed, the back of his knees hitting the bed so he goes down, but Sam follows him, pushes his t-shirt up and kisses his stomach, teeth scraping the startled-up arch of his ribs, up over his nipple when Sam drags his shirt even higher, and it feels—he slips his hands into Sam’s hair, curls his fingers in tight and drags him up, and Sam goes, his hands denting the mattress either side of Dean’s head as he lets himself be pulled into a kiss. They’re both still almost fully clothed but Sam settles his weight into the cradle of Dean’s hips just the same and Dean’s thighs pull open for him, his knees spreading. So familiar, even if the look in his eyes isn’t, anymore.

Sam pulls away from his mouth, looking down at him heavy-lidded, just the slightest curl of smug. Dean closes his eyes, traces his fingers down Sam’s neck, his broad shoulders, catches him close around the still-narrow dip of his waist. He dreamed about this. Curled into that other bed, in the bright sunlight, he imagined this body wrapped around him. Dreamed of opening his eyes into a world where Sam was alive, and healthy, and his.

“Do you remember that time in—where were we. Baton Rouge, I think. After that vengeful spirit in the hotel.” Sam grinds his hips down and he’s hard, big and obvious even through their jeans. God, it feels good. Dean drags his knees up, rocks into it, blinks to find Sam propped up higher, watching his face. He’s still—wrong. His eyes are calculating, not soft, but he touches Dean’s face gently anyway. “We got that king bed, remember.”

Dean remembers. When everything was going to hell, the Apocalypse coming no matter what they did, and half the time Dean wanted to just lay down, never get up again. Sam had booked that stupid expensive room and Dean hadn’t been in the mood, not really, had been too heart-sore and aching, but Sam had touched him, had put his mouth under Dean’s ear, coaxing him slow and easy, and then—

This Sam isn’t anything like that Sam. Dean knows that, knows it all too well. “You remember,” Sam says, palm firm on the side of Dean’s face, and yeah, Dean does. He’s the only one on earth who knows what happened that night. Who knows what it meant. It wasn’t an—an occupation, like this is. This Sam probably doesn’t know the difference. His chest hurts, remembering, and he’s just—he’s tired of feeling lonely. He wants, and at this point he’ll accept a shoddy substitute.

“You going to keep talking, or are you going to fuck me?” he says, and Sam frowns for a moment, but then he smirks, triumphant, a so-familiar dimple cutting into his cheek. Dean covers it up with one thumb, and then tugs, and Sam comes back down willingly enough, knocking his mouth open and kissing him deep, perfect. With his eyes closed, with Sam’s skin on his, it’s easier to forget for a while. I’m sorry, he thinks, clear as a gunshot, and arches helplessly up into Sam’s grasping, victorious hands, and takes what he can get.

(read on AO3)

Headcanon- Ivar when he's sad

@wanderingsorceress27 suggested Ivar when he’s sad/lonely. I decided to split them up. Thanks for the prompt!
***

As a child, Ivar is sad often. He does not understand why he is not like his brothers or the other children, why his legs are twisted and painful and do not work. He spends a good many nights crying in his mother’s lap, her arms the only comfort he has. His brothers think he is only crying from the pain of his legs; Mother never tells them otherwise.

As he gets older, sadness for Ivar means solitude. He does not like others to see him express any vulnerable emotion like that, even Mother. He thinks it shows weakness. He retreats to his refuge in the forest, sitting amongst the trees and letting his feelings overwhelm him. Sometimes he still cries. Only the birds are there to hear it.

As a young man, he internalizes sadness into anger. There is no more room inside him for silly things like crying and emotion. He channels his sadness into beating his brothers in the training ring, tormenting the slaves and generally being abrasive. It feels so much better for him to bloody his fists then to shed tears. The only exception is the death of his parents.

When Ivar finally finds you, his one and only, his way of dealing with sadness changes once again. Not at first, however. It takes him a long time to understand you will not judge him or laugh at him. There are many times he lashes out at you for trying to comfort him. Eventually, as you grow closer, he realizes you can be his safe place, his refuge. Like his mother, like the forest, like his anger.

When he feels sad now, he finds his comfort in your embrace. He crawls into your arms and presses his face into your neck, letting you cradle him and stroke your hands through his hair. He does not cry much anymore, but he knows in the safety of your bed he is allowed to be vulnerable. Sometimes he shares his feelings, sometimes he doesn’t. But whatever he does, he finds peace and comfort in being with you. After a night wrapped around you, his sadness has usually retreated. If it hasn’t, he sets himself upon you with fervour, desperate to ease the pain with physical pleasure (both his own and yours). There is nothing that makes him feel better than making you scream his name to the skies above. In any case, it is you that pushes away the sadness now. He no longer needs to deal with it alone, and deep down his is very grateful.
***

These are all headcanons I have I just made it a little more like a story than just listing them, can’t get the writer out of me!

Okay, but like, Power Rangers.

I did not expect to like this movie as much as I did. I watched some of the original series sometimes, but I was put off by how fucking cheesy and nonsensical it could be. And even this movie had shades of that.

But holy fuck, holy fuck, did I love the first two-thirds. And even though the last third was kind of weak, it made up for it with the bonds we made with these characters.

Billy Cranston? Now, I’m not autistic. But thank you for not just coding him. I’ve read so many things about how important this character is for so many people. Not only is he autistic, not only does he openly stim and info-dump and not get humour, not only is his autism never “cured”, but it’s used for comedy in a respectful way! Sometimes, autistic traits can be humorous if not mocked for it! And Billy is important! He’s integral to the plot. He’s the heart of the story!

And Trinni? Yes, it was just one scene. But I think it’s more of a set-up for her story in the sequels, rather than a token effort of representation. God, I hope we see more of her. (pleasepairherwithkimberly)

Each of these characters have a story, have depth. Honestly, fuck the power rangers theme, I wanted more of their stories. But for what we got? 

It was a nice, earnest movie. Cheesy as fuck, but real with it’s characters. 

thank you, power rangers.

you have no idea how much this will mean to peeople.

ML AU: Like Father Like Son part 1

Adrien finds out that his father is hawkmoth.


Adrien is in utter shock. His dad was his Arch Nemesis, not exactly what he was expecting.

Gabriel sighs dejectedly, he hoped his son wouldn’t see him like this, see him as a villain.

“Adrien, I can understand that this is a little bit of a shock.”

“A little? You are a super villain who has been terrorizing paris! I would say that a little is pretty weak in this situation!” Adrien chewed out his father, something he had never done before, but he was furious.

“Your response is understandable, but will you let me explain myself?” He asked, his words sounding more like an order then a request.

Of course he would want to know how this happened. But he was so angry that being calm and rational was not in his mental settings.

“What could possibly justify you turning Paris into a war zone on multiple occasion for some jewelry!?”

“Because it is the only way to get her back Adrien!” Gabriel shouted passionately, his voice ringing with the hurt he had been experiencing.

Adrien’s rage vanished instantly, he knew who his father was referring to. What did his father mean by that.

“It is the only way…” Gabriel repeated tears now dropping from the man’s eyes.

Adrien watched as his father fell to his knees and hung his head, something he had only seen once in his entire life. The day Adrien’s mother had vanished.

“Father… Please tell me. How would this get mother back?”

Gabriel looked up to see his son standing before him, his son’s green eyes filled with tears, the man knew it was time to tell him the truth.

“Adrien… your mother isn’t gone, I know where she is.” The blond designer admitted.

Adrien felt a pang in his heart, his father knew? Where was she? He needed to find her.

“Where is she? Why is she not here? What happened with my mother?” Adrien shot question after question in rapid succession.

“She is in Tibet, in a secret location with the best medical care money can buy.”

“Medical care?”

“She is very sick Adrien. She has been sick for some time. The doctors in Paris had no idea what was causing this bizarre sickness. So I sent her to Tibet, in hopes that their medical treatment would help her heal, but it has only slowed down its progress. There is no cure Adrien, she is running on borrowed time.” Gabriel confessed. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to worry. It was a terrible thing to do, but we needed you to be unaware, in case a cure was found. So that we could go back to being a family.”

Adrien was a mix of emotions, hurt and angry were the most prevalent.

“But that doesn’t explain the big question. Why are you a super villain!!”

Gabriel recoiled a bit from the loud shout. The designer quickly recovered, his eyes now steady on his son.

“Because I had found a way to save her. I had been doing research on all sorts of ways to cure her, when I stubbled across an old book that had belonged to my wife. A book that had described mystical artifacts that could grant the users abilities that rivaled gods. Along with it was a note with an address in it.”

Adrien listened as the story his father revealed to him started to make sense.

“Whether it was desperation or simply being out of options, I decided to go to the address on the book. It lead me to an old man, an old man by the name of Fu. I asked the man if he knew about the Miraculous, but he simply dismissed it as a Chinese myth. Dejected I was ready to leave, but something caught my eye, a mysterious black octagonal box. I went to open it and the old man snapped at me to not touch it, fear prevalent in his eyes. I don’t know what possessed me to grab it. But I did, the old man attacked me and there was a struggle. During the struggle the box opened and a bunch of jewelry popped out. I snagged the one closest to me and ran before the old man could realize what happened.”

“You stole it!?”

“I wasn’t thinking straight Adrien! I was desperate, I was frustrated. After I returned home I looked at the brooch, I realized my transgression and planned to return it, until I saw something pop out of it.”

Adrien felt his face turn pale, he knew that his father had found a Kwami.

“It was a purple creature with Butterfly like wings. It was a Kwami, a creature that I read about in the book, it referred to itself as Nooroo. Nooroo explained everything to me about the Miraculous, including how two specific ones could be used in ways no one on earth can dream of.”

“The Cat and Ladybug Miraculous…” Adrien muttered unintentionally.

“Exactly, those two are the yin and Yang of the miraculouses. Together, they are invincible, who ever wields them both will attain god like powers! Able to create and destroy anything. Which means I can obtain it and use it to destroy your mother’s illness, or create something to cure the disease! Adrien, this is the only way I know of that can save her!”

Adrien processed everything his father told him, as crazy as it all sounded, it made sense. If anyone could understand his father, it was him.

Gabriel stood up and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders.

“Adrien, please understand, that everything I have done was to bring this family back to the way it was before. I never wanted to hurt you or anyone, but I need to get those miraculouses. It is the only way to save her Adrien.” The blond designer pleaded with his son. His eyes showing warmth that had long since vanished with his mother’s disappearance. Adrien’s world was spinning trying to come to grips with everything.

He stepped back from his father’s grasp.

“I need to think about this.” Adrien said barely audible, he quickly hurried to his room and locked the door, his father not chasing after him, knowing the boy would need time to process everything.

his head felt heavy, his body now feeling heavier then ever, as if he had ran 100 miles straight. He collapsed on his bed, his mind rushing.

“What am I gonna do?


Thoughts?

anonymous asked:

*backflips into your ask box* You do miraculous ladybug?? Omg omg omg okay I'm here now and I would love some sick adrien who caught some bad illness and his body is all freaked out and weak since he /never/ got sick as a home schooled child and stomach problems and possibly embarrassment in front of ladybug at some point but really up to you!! You ha be no idea how happy I am rn -Rae

Thank you for the request! I’m happy to write it for you!

One of the many drawbacks of being homeschooled is that Adrien was never exposed to illness as a child. He remains blissfully unaware of the dreaded cold and flu season. So when a nasty stomach flu starts going around the school, Adrien fails to take the necessary precautions.

Usually, Adrien is already awake when Natalie comes to wake him for school, too excited about seeing his friends to sleep in. This morning, he’s still sound asleep when she knocks on his door. “Adrien? Time to get up. We’re leaving in half an hour.”

“Huh?” Adrien raises his head groggily. “I’ll be down in a minute,” he mutters, rolling over and hauling his uncooperative body out of bed. A wave of dizziness hits him as he’s getting dressed, but Adrien dismisses it as just low blood sugar and gets dressed as quickly as possible. He still feels like he’s half asleep, and he keeps getting tangled in his clothes. The usual grace he possesses as Chat Noir is completely absent today.

His appetite is nonexistent when he goes down for breakfast, but he forces himself to choke down a few bites anyway and drink some water. Natalie is frowning at him, concerned by his lack of enthusiasm. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he replies instantly. It’s the truth; it has to be. A little upset stomach isn’t enough to keep him from seeing his friends. “Let’s go.”

Adrien had been hoping that he’d feel better after eating a little breakfast, but unfortunately, that’s not the case. He still feels a bit lightheaded and with each turn that the car makes, he feels more and more nauseous. When the car arrives at the school he practically barrel-rolls out, so incredibly grateful to be standing still. Forcing himself to take a few deep breaths, he writes it off as motion sickness and heads to class.

“You look like death,” Nino says in lieu of a greeting when he arrives.

Adrien lifts his head from the desk to look at his friend. “I’m fine, really.”

“You look really pale,” Alya points out. “I hope that you didn’t catch that stomach bug that’s been going around. Even Marinette, standing next to her, looks worried about him, rather than her usual terrified expression.

At the mention of illness, Adrien’s stomach lurches unpleasantly. He swallows hard. “I’m okay, just a little tired.” None of them look like they believe him, but they leave him alone for now.

Class is nothing short of torture. Adrien is unable to focus on anything besides the ever-increasing nausea, and the classroom is absolutely freezing today. Normally he’s an attentive student; today, Nino shakes him awake no less than three times. He’s pretty sure that there’s no way that this day can get any worse.

Nino shakes him awake again, and Adrien suddenly becomes aware of the other students whispering. Something about another akuma. He almost groans out loud.

Adrien never thought that there’d be a time when he didn’t want to transform, but now, trembling with fever chills and his stomach roiling, he has no desire to go help Ladybug. But Chat Noir doesn’t take sick days, so Adrien grits his teeth and calls for Plagg to transform. He’s pretty sure that the small cat tries to protest, but he pays him no mind.

The battle with the akuma is a blur. Chat has no idea how he managed to get to Ladybug’s side or how he’s still fighting when he feels like death. He knows that he’s clumsier than normal, but the beauty of working as a team is that he’s not alone. Eventually (it takes way longer than usual) they defeat and trap the akuma.

Ladybug purifies the butterfly while Chat does his best not to collapse where he’s standing. Each jump and flip had jolted his already uneasy stomach, and it’s taking all of his willpower to not throw up right now.

“Are you okay, Chat?” Ladybug’s voice jerks him out of his miserable stupor. They’re out of sight now, and Adrien realizes that he’s stopped and doubled over with his arms around abdomen.

He opens his mouth to reply, and it’s a mistake. His stomach is forcing its way up his throat. He panics momentarily (I can’t throw up in front of Ladybug!), but it’s too late.

Chat lurches forward with a heave and his stomach contents splatter the pavement. He gags relentlessly, despite his stomach being mostly empty already. When he finally catches his breath and becomes more aware of his surroundings, he notices a small hand rubbing his back. “Are you feeling any better?” Ladybug. She just saw him puke everywhere.

He wants to spontaneously combust, or maybe sink into the depths of the earth and never emerge. “I’m fine,” he insists, shakily wiping his mouth.

“You look pretty sick,” Ladybug disagrees, her blue eyes sharp with concern. “I guess both you and my friend have pretty bad luck.” Before Chat can process what she just said, she keeps talking. “Are you going to be okay to make it home?”

“Yeah, I’ll just take the streets.”

She doesn’t look very convinced, but accepts his answer. “Be safe, okay? I hope that you feel better soon!”

After she’s gone, Chat stares at the ground below and sighs. It’s going to be a long trek home, and his father is not going to be happy.

I hope Rebecca’s the one to tell Aaron. I hope she tells him all of the hurtful and nasty things Robert said about him because, let’s face it, Robert will never be that honest even when he’s telling the truth. She can tell Aaron how Robert called him weak, how he doesn’t care about his loved ones and self-harms when things don’t go his way. I hope she tells him about how Robert said he missed her, that he and Aaron hadn’t been the same since she’s turned up, that she and Robert were good together once and how they can try again and get it right. She can tell him all about how Robert loves lots of people.

It’ll be just like the iconic scene where Aaron confronted Chrissie and Robert at Home Farm! She can even confront them at the mill, their future home, and point to their bed where she and Robert had sex. Imagine the parallels, how iconic it would be for Rebecca to tell her own version of the line “all that you’ve worked for is gone.”

I love many things about Yuuri but one of them must be that while he can be this boy

he never stops being this boy

That while he can be confident and even sexy on the ice, off the ice, he’s still that guy with the dorky glasses who’s quite easily embarrassed and wears that vulnerable and innocent expression that almost makes him look weak.

I love that he’s both of those people and that his insecure side never gets overwritten by his confident side. That he may be erotic in his programs but he is still Yuuri at heart.

I feel like it’s so easy to change a character’s personality and appearance and call it “character development”, and while, of course, that’s not wrong, I think it really takes effort to show a character’s growth without changing who he is as a person.

And Yuuri has certainly grown, whether it’s confidence in his daily life, his position in relationships with other people or his focus and freedom on ice, but he never stops being his ‘cinnamon roll’ self.

What’s also fair to mention is that he suffers from some degree of anxiety and that also never disappears. He doesn’t stop being anxious just because he’s grown and he’s stronger now - it still follows him and he has moments of weakness.

Yuuri may have grown but he never stopped being the person he used to be, he never changed.

But just because he didn’t change entirely doesn’t mean he didn’t improve.

Yuuri grew into a better version of himself, not into a completely different person.

And I think the way he’s written as a character and all of this deserves to be noticed and appreciated.

4

Quick confession: he leaves me breathless and renders me speechless all the time

shout-out to the benevolent muscle men from mob psycho 100

when mob joined the body-building club, it felt like his presence there was gonna be a punchline, but the benevolent muscle men took him in with open (burly) arms. they’ve never made fun of him nor bullied him nor teased him for being so physically weak… they’ve always treated him as an equal and looked out for him and protected him and cheer him on as he grows… they don’t even pick on the nerds in their equipment classroom. thank you, benevolent muscle men. thank you for your kindness, patience, and sportsmanship.

And let’s, while we’re talking about Mycroft, also talk a little bit more directly about his relationship with Sherlock. Because OH MY GOD. The relationship we get to see between Mycroft and Sherlock in this episode is seriously like everything out of my wildest dreams. I’ve written Mycroft trying to get Sherlock to understand that Sherlock is his greatest weakness, and I just think it’s so *true.* We see here Mycroft as the beloved older brother, getting a hug from Sherlock, and the way Mycroft smiles at the home video so fondly. And what we learn—and what Sherlock learns—is that the entire stiff annoying difficulty in Mycroft’s relationship with Sherlock was never really Mycroft’s fault. Mycroft was just trying, so hard, for so many years, to pick up the pieces of the lives of these younger siblings he loved.

And really, he must have been feeling like he was doing a terrible job of it. There was Euros, which was a disaster, and then there was Sherlock, his drug addict little brother who he had to keep saving from overdoses, and who was so resistant to all of Mycroft’s well-intentioned but terribly heavy-handed efforts. And there he is, watching Sherlock try to manage his own emotional attachments, Sherlock who was such an emotional child, and is it any wonder that Mycroft, watching Sherlock literally rewrite memories, decided the best path to take with the adult Sherlock was to try to nudge him away from loving that fiercely ever again?

And then of course Mycroft tries to sacrifice him in favor of John Watson. Mycroft recognizing how much his brother needs John, how Mycroft must be the one to go, and then trying to be *kind* about it. And Sherlock actually *recognizing* that Mycroft was trying to be kind. That was such a wonderful scene. And I loved that John had a similar reaction, recognizing the importance of *Mycroft* to Sherlock. 

It was part of the gift of this episode: getting to see Sherlock and Mycroft actually liking each other. Sherlock can’t kill Mycroft. The whole conversation about Mycroft’s portrayal of Lady Bracknell was just lovely. And Sherlock explicitly stating that Mycroft did his best. And asking after Mycroft when they all end up separated. So good.

Okay, but imagine if Victor and Yuuri never found each other. Imagine if the video of Yuuri skating was never uploaded and Yuuri was forced fight on his own. Maybe he keeps replaying his mistakes in his head, psyching himself out, surrounded by people who only want to pressure him into skating again without any regard for his feelings. Eventually, he’d decide to take the next season off to get his head straight. That season becomes the next season becomes the next and before he knows it, he’s too old and out of shape to start competing again. 

Keep reading

Friendly reminder that Stiles Stilinski isn’t some small, delicate flower. He’s just shy of 5'11″, he’s spent the better part of two years running from and fighting monsters, on top of playing lacrosse and running cross country. 

He’s never looked weak, he’s always been able to hold his own (and sometimes he’s held his own AND an entire other person.) 

Just… Stiles Stilinski isn’t some dainty little thing. He’s HUMAN, but he can take care of himself… remember all the times he ran headlong into danger with a baseball bat? 

Let’s all remember that Stiles isn’t a little wimp that needs protection. If anything, people need protection from him.

anonymous asked:

Fic where Jimin is deaf and he just starts to mumble Yoongi’s name and he REALLY tried and its so cute that Yoongi just wants to hug the boy and cuddle

“…obii…”

Yoongi’s hands froze where they stood, fingers still lightly pressed to the warn out keyboards of his laptop. He didn’t know if he had just imagined what he think he’d just heard or if he did, in fact, actually hear it, so he remained still, waiting, anticipating.

“Yoo…bi…?”

Either his imagination was wilder than he had thought, he was going crazy, or the person behind him, his angel, his sunshine, the only reason he actually got up every morning, the person who would never hear the world around him was actually calling him.

“Yoon-gi…?”

Slowly, as if if he were too quick the magic would disappear, Yoongi turned around with his chair, his eyes immediately finding the fidgeting figure of Jimin. Small, weak, precious Jimin, drowning in one of Yoongi’s big, black sweaters and the blanket from their bedroom, with messy hair and puffy cheeks.

“…gi?”

Yoongi nodded, barely controlling his emotions, quietly motioning for the younger to come closer. To come to him. And when he did, he pulled him down into his lap and waited.

“Yoon… Yoongi…?”

He was used to the loud “Yoah!” every time a bug managed to sneak up behind Jimin and he had to call his knight in shining armor. He was used with unintelligible mumbling that sometimes sneaked from between his lips when he was signing too fast or too excited. To quiet giggles and loud moans and squeaked yelps.

But he had never, in his wildest dreams, imagined he would hear Jimin even just attempt to say his name. Ever.

He honestly felt like crying.

“Yoon-gi… I ‘ove yoou…”

au where credence actually got took in by newt and tina and jacob wasn’t obliviated but still gets to work in his bakery happily

  • credence keeps apologizing for every little mistake he made, as he can’t help it. newt and tina reminds him it’s alright but they won’t force him to stop apologizing.
  • credence vents to tina as he knows she’ll listen and won’t judge him in anyway for it, never.
  • newt giving him a decent pep talk whenever credence is low on self-esteem, credence doesn’t really find it helpful but he appreciates it for newt taking out time of his own to make him feel better.
  • when credence has an episode, tina and newt will gently ask whether or not they can come over to comfort him. the two will fully respect if credence denies.
  • newt and tina letting credence know his abuse was valid, and it wasn’t his fault. 
  • newt and tina letting him know that crying doesn’t make you weak, and it is totally okay, and there is bravery in being soft, even if you don’t feel brave at times.
  • often credence needs alone time to himself, so newt and tina give him that. though they will leave his food by his door if he doesn’t want to leave his room.
  • newt allowing credence to follow him into his suitcase, and even teaching him about the creatures he owns. credence is also allowed inside the suitcase anytime as long as he asks newt, no matter how unholy the hour is, because newt knows if human companionship doesn’t suit at the moment, the beasts will help.
  • newt and tina both decided to teach credence magic themselves. credence doesn’t mind him being home-schooled as he finally gets to learn magic. newt and tina being supportive of him learning at his own pace, it doesn’t matter how slow nor how many mistakes he makes.
  • sometimes jacob and queenie will come over and surprise credence with a ton of delicious pastries and food, making sure he is well-fed and satisfied. (even though newt and tina already bloated him always)
  • tina and queenie giving credence advice on how to deal with problems such as to socialize with strangers, overcome some of his fears, etc.
  • jacob and newt telling stories of their wacky adventures to credence. jacob sometimes exaggerate it and newt would correct him, but credence finds jacob’s version amusing and entertaining.
  • jacob telling him if situations look bad, it’s alright, it happens. just pick yourself up and keep walking on, because soon something great is bound to happen, especially when you least expect it.

credence barebone receiving lots of love and care from parents newt and tina + aunt queenie and uncle jacob

“I’m just asking this one thing of you.” Her voice was calm, but it wasn’t enough to cover the storm that raged inside of her. He already knew what she was going to ask. To be frank, he’d been waiting for it, had thought it’d happen every time they locked eyes. But she’d given him the silent treatment, waiting for him to make the first move and explain. He hadn’t caved in, not to the coldness in her eyes or the stubborn tilt of her jaw. Yet. Apparently she’d run out of patience.
“Why do you keep pushing me away? Be honest with me.” Honest. That word alone drove a hundred needles into his skull. If there was one thing he sucked at, it was honesty, especially if it concerned people he loved. Especially if it led to him admitting to a weakness. Admitting to fear.
“Every time I think I managed to get through to you, it’s like you never heard me at all. It’s like you don’t even try to listen. You’re not making an effort.” How very wrong she was but that too was something she could not know. Something he could not say out loud because words had a funny way of backfiring and making things even worse.
“You’re right. I’m not making an effort. I don’t want to. I don’t care.” Her face fell and his heart sank. What kind of person was he to protect his own skin, to let her put her heart on the line and not give anything in return?
“I think you do,” she said quietly. “I think you see where this is going and you’re scared so you’re trying to make me leave on my own. But I won’t. I won’t leave you no matter how often you push me away.”
“You want me to be honest?” She nodded and straightened, throwing her shoulders back. Every inch of her was attentive.
“I fall in love hard and fast. It takes as much time for me to fall out of love. I open my heart, I get attached, everything is fine until it isn’t. Until someone ends up breaking my heart or I break theirs and it always ends in fights and screams and tears and I’m sick of it.” Without noticing his hands had balled into fists. Heat rose in his cheeks. Never had he meant to lose control like this. His tone softened. “If I don’t risk anything, I don’t lose. That’s it. It’s not your fault.”
She reached for his hand and squeezed, gentle but firm.
“But you don’t know how it ends before you start, do you? You cannot possibly know.” Every part of him wanted to pull away, had to pull away, but he couldn’t. He’d been running for so long, struggling so hard, twisting and winding and always escaping. But he was tired. His very soul was tired.
“Because if you don’t risk anything, you can’t win, either,” she whispered, pulling him closer and closer until the only thing he wanted to be was honest with her. Until he no longer wanted to escape.
—  I’ll risk it for you / n.j.
Stuff I Love About Yurio
  • Primadonna girl all she ever wanted was the world
  • Animal print: The fashion trend that never goes out of style
  • I could write an essay on how weak I get when that baby smiles
  • Accurate 15 year old. Does Russia have Hot Topic.
  • He remembered Yuuri’s birthday
  • And gave him a pork cutlet bowl pirozhki
  • Says hi via dropkicks
  • His fans are lowkey furries
  • “I am the ice tiger of Russia” ok kiddo u keep tellin urself that
  • His hair. It’s Important.
  • His relationship with Mila is so funny to me
  • Hates JJ with a burning passion
  • I feel like I should mention Yakov somewhere on here so… “YAKOV”
  • HE LOVES HIS GRANDPA SO MUCH
  • I want Grandpa Plisetsky to make me some pork cutlet bowl pirozhkis
  • Is Yuuko’s fourth child
  • Is simultaneously Yuuri and Viktor’s first child
  • Him running away absolutely bewildered from Yuuri’s wild hugging spree
  • Has not one, but TWO embarrassing dads.
  • When he skates I feel so Blessed
  • Gender: Fuck
  • Even though he was so sweet in ep 9 he’s still such a salty boy
  • It’s like those weird sweet and salty trail mix bars. Nature Made??
  • What lip gloss does he use??? Mascara???
  • Probably owns a shitton of animal print converse
  • Is fifteen, first time competing in Seniors, and he’s heading off to Grand Prix Finals
  • I’m so proud of him
  • He deserves everything good in the world
  • Salty, bitter, lowkey soft babie Protect This Boy