toring

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Thought this was perfect for Father’s Day. So, here ya go. I vaguely wrote something for it but meh. At least I’m trying. XD

….

“Lieutenant!” Connor’s voice suddenly tore through whatever trance he’d been under. Staring off into space on his porch in the chilly autumn air where he’d been waiting for Sumo to finish his business.

Hank visibly flinched but straightened quickly under the concerned Android’s stare. “Oh. Ugh, yeah, Connor. Back from work already?”

Connor nodded in affirmation, “Yes. I clocked out at precisely at 5:07. Did you enjoy your day off?”

Hank shrugged, glancing over at Sumo who spent his sweet ass time sniffling around the yard and looking for a suitable place to take a piss. Damn picky as fuck dog. “Eh. It was alright, I guess.” Hank finally answered after a long pause, “Fuckin’ boring as usual but at least I’ll be able to catch the game tonight.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way tonight while you enjoy your game.”

“Mm-hmm, damn straight you will,” Hank grumbled, eyes averting from Connor for a moment as he turned, about to yell at Sumo to hurry the fuck up, but before he could, a sudden movement from Connor caught his eye.

The RK800 Android, who weird and quirky per usual, was acting even stranger than normal. Hank was accustomed to the Android always having his hands either rubbing together, playing with that damn coin Hank reluctantly returned months ago, or stoically at his side were now both buried in the pockets of his jeans.

Lifting his brow and giving the Android a pointed look, Hank muttered out, “Ya got something to tell me, Conn?”

“Hmm? Oh. Um, nothing of crucial importance, Lieutenant,” Connor replied but Hank caught the flinch of his mouth and sudden furrow of his brow. Those small idiosyncrasies Hank picked up from the past year of knowing him, and the six months Connor had lived with him, told him the Android was lying – albeit badly.

“Bullshit.” Hank’s curiosity grew as he stared at the puppy-eyed Android who suddenly looked more nervous than Hank ever saw him. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing. Really. Your game, or rather the Pregame, starts in less than three minutes, so I suggest–”

“Fuck your suggestions! Just fackin’ spit it out, Connor!”

“I have nothing in my mouth to spit out, Lieutenant,” Connor said with the barest hints of a smirk that made Hank scowl.

“Connor…” Hank stated in a masked warning – not in the mood to deal with Connor’s off-brand sense of humor tonight.

Pursing his lips, Connor nodded before pulling his wallet out of his right pocket.

It may have been Hank’s tiredness or alcohol withdrawal he’d been going through for the past five damn months already, but he swore Connor’s hands were shaking. Nothing he could have imagined possible for the best equipment Cyberlife ever made but he suspected it was the deviancy responsible for the uncharacteristic tremors in Connor’s typically steadiness.

Hank watched Connor as he hesitated for only a split-second before opening the black trifold wallet and showcasing to him the last thing Hank expected.

It was a Detroit Police Department badge.

Gold, polished, and obviously new and Hank’s heart fucking thudded painfully seeing the name ‘Connor Anderson’ neatly inscribed underneath the larger DPD logo.

“W…What?” Hank uttered out; having to clear his throat to even choke out the word that hung in the air.

“Captain Fowler gave it to me today,” Connor clarified, “ – only an hour after the law was finally passed and finalized.”

Hank’s heart lurched in something he could only describe as overwhelming relief. It was a fucking uphill battle during a torrential hurricane even getting Connor back on the force. The laws were slow to change and for awhile, Hank feared it would never happen.

Yet, there it was right in front of him…

In his stunned silence, Hank hadn’t noticed how nervous Connor had become from his lack of verbal confirmation to this piece of shocking news.

Finally able to lift his increasingly blurring vision to the RK800, he swallowed back the lump that formed. Connor’s russet eyes were large, brows lifted slightly and fuck, was he pouting? The boyish expression and the protective feelings he hesitantly harbored toward Connor within days of meeting him hit Hank all at once like a ton of bricks.

There were simply no words he was able to physically utter to showcase what he was feeling right now – so he did the next best thing.

Without warning, he’d grabbed Connor’s shoulder and pulled the unsuspecting Android into his chest; one hand firmly grasped between his shoulder-blades and the other cradling the back of his head.

“…I’m so fucking proud of you, son…” the words came out breathy and slightly broken; his throat tight and fuck, why were his eyes burning so badly?

The Android flinched much like the first time Hank had embraced him. A machine who was so unused to any sort of gentle affection who awkwardly hugged him back;  Connor’s cool hands hovering before gently resting on his back in a returned embrace.

“Thank you…” Connor replied before a few moments later continued. “…Dad.”

Hank’s world froze for a second as that word left Connor’s tongue, voice synthesizer shit or whatever the hell he called it.

Dad. A title Hank thought he’d lost permanently when Cole died – a title Hank knew he never deserved. But hearing it come from the most unlikely source. An Android Hank had hated and loathed once upon a time and now couldn’t live without. Hearing Connor say it with all the confidence in the world repaired something inside of the gristled Lieutenant; a part of him he thought far beyond reparation.

Hands shaking as he better cradled Connor’s head, Hank let out something akin to a laugh or sob, he didn’t know or didn’t care which at this moment. Sinking his chin into Connor’s strong shoulder, he allowed himself to cry for the first time in years.

anonymous asked:

Don’t fuckin let your kid start opening a toy, ask me to price check it, then decide it’s too expensive!!! Like yo wtf we have to defect that now cuz your kid tore the packaging up!!! If you haven’t bought it yet don’t let them do that!

Matt: *Describes how the bodies of the demons the Mighty Nein killed have rapidly decomposed into sludge*

Matt, to Marisha: The heart of the demon still remains, if only because of the electricity that was within the body of creature when your tore it out, seemed to have cauterized it to some point, and also because it’s cool to let you keep a demon heart.

One Jump Ahead: Dinner

Written for @ladrienjune

Days 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15:

“I think I messed up, Fe,” Marinette sighed. She leaned back against the cool granite headstone and inhaled deeply. “I can’t stop seeing his face after what I said. I definitely called that wrong.”

She picked at a few blades of grass around her and tore them to shreds. “I mean, of course I did. I know I messed it up on purpose. I was reaching for a reason that it couldn’t work. That’s what I do now.”

An ant crawled over the toe of her shoe and she watched its progress. “I push everyone away because I’m terrified of losing someone else. And I know exactly what you’d say so don’t start.” She lowered her voice. “This is a textbook example of an unhealthy coping mechanism, Spots. Sort out your shit.” She exhaled softly and looked up at the darkening sky. “I just really miss you and I’m terrified of losing him now.”

“Would it be unkind to point out the obvious?” Tikki piped up from Marinette’s purse.

“That by pushing Adrien away, I’m losing him anyway?”

The kwami held out her hands in an open gesture and nodded.

“What am I even supposed to say to him? I went psycho out of nowhere.”

“You’ve been keeping things so bottled up since we lost Felix,” Tikki replied gently. “You haven’t been letting yourself feel and then Adrien shows up and refuses to give up on you and I think you got swept up in it and forgot you were trying to not feel anything at all and then it hit you at once that you were vulnerable. You just need to tell him that. Explain it, even though it won’t be easy.”

Keep reading

I made a comment earlier in my 10 randos, about how healing is hard, and it is easier to stay ill. To be clear, this was about me, and no one else.  I don’t ever hide subtext, jabs or feelings about other people in things I say. If I am hinting about you, I’ll have the decency to tell you directly.

When I openly admitted last year that my grandfather had raped me, it started me on a path of the truest healing I have had to date, but it also threw me further off course than I have ever been. It took all the things I have ever been, even things and coping mechanisms that had nothing to do with him (because let’s face it, none of these things exist individually) and it tore them out from underneath me. It changed me, almost on a molecular level. Things I have done for as long as I can remember (oversharing, seeking unwarranted amounts of attention and validation, etc.) stopped working, and I found myself in a place I have never been. Not depressed, I am very familiar with that but similar in that I just stopped feeling altogether. No need to talk. No need to share. No need to express Love, or hate. (Except at 45, he and his admin can still suck a bag of moldy dicks no matter how tuned out I feel) No real desire to do anything but look inside of ME. And it was wonderful, and terrifying at the same time.

It screwed me up, accepting down to my core what happened.  It screwed up my Love life with J, even so far as to cause ED between us. (Oversharing is making a strong comeback apparently, but fuck it, I am who I am) It has been a crazy place, and honestly, it was easier to stay ill. But it was also not what I needed.

Things are getting better. One day at a time I am finding out things about me I never knew. I am finding strength I never knew I had. And I am seeking approval and validation from the most important person… Myself. It is a very weird feeling, and I have no idea where I am going with it. But I am so glad you all are here to share it with me if you find it interesting enough to hang, and Goddess Speed to you with nothing but Love for you, even if you don’t.

I am sharing now because the last few days have been intense, but in a good way mostly. And I want you to know, that if you have been hurt, or scared or damaged by another (and really, who hasn’t in one way or another) there is hope. The healing is hard as fuck… And totally worth it.

anonymous asked:

Humble request: I recently read a fic that was post Battle of Winterfell and Sandor feels the thin raised scars from Ramsay on her backside (the way it was described tore my guts out with feels) and also at another point he jokes “what a way to go” when her legs are squeezed tight around his head 😳. The way they were both written was so honest and I loved it. I have searched high and low but can’t find this wonderful fic!

Not Afraid by NorthCountryGirl

Diana Wynne Jones’ spirited cats are the absolute best

A huge ginger paw loaded with long pink razors at once oozed itself out of the latch hole and tore several strips off Christopher while he fastened the basket.

After a bit of swaying and prodding, he managed to get the brass point at the end of the curtain bar under the latch of the lid and open the basket. The cat sounds stopped. Throgmorten seemed to have decided that this was a trick. Christopher waited, gently bouncing on his bed and clutching the bar and the bundle of curtain, for Throgmorten to attack. But nothing happened. Christopher leaned forward cautiously until he could see into the basket. It contained a round ginger bundle gently moving up and down. Throgmorten, disdaining freedom now he had it, had curled up and gone to sleep.

… they approached the nearest bush, a ginger cat emerged from among the shiny leaves, stretching and glaring irritably. When it saw Flavian and Christopher, it advanced on them at a trot, purpose all over its savage, lop-eared face.
“Look out!” Flavian said urgently.
Christopher did not need telling. He knew what this particular cat could do. But he was so astonished at seeing Throgmorten here at Chrestomanci Castle that he forgot to move. “Who—whose cat is that?” he said.
Throgmorten recognized Christopher too. His tail went up, thinner and more snaky than ever, and he stopped and stared. “Wong?” he said incredulously. And he advanced again, but in a much more stately way, like a Prime Minister greeting a foreign President. “Wong,” he said.
“Careful!” said Flavian, prudently backing behind Christopher. “It’s an Asheth Temple cat. It’s safest not to go near it.”
Christopher of course knew that, but Throgmorten was so evidently meaning to be polite that he risked squatting down and cautiously holding out his hand. “Yes, wong to you too,” he said. Throgmorten put forward his moth-eaten-looking orange nose and dabbed at Christopher’s hand with it.

Starved

Chapter 6 - Help Me, Dean

They left Sioux Falls two hours later. Dean finished working on the truck and got her started. Sam went inside to pack some food, but Dean found him just standing in the kitchen.

“Sam?”

“I can’t eat Dean. I shouldn’t eat. I don’t deserve to.” He sighed heavily. Sam sounded so broken, it tore Dean’s heart to pieces.

“Sammy. You do. I’ll show you that you do. We’ll do this slow, ok? What did dad feed you?”

“Water. Maybe a sandwich. Sometimes I didn’t eat at all. There was one point where he was so mad at me he didn’t let me eat for three days. I just ate whatever he picked up at the gas stations while we were driving around. Old egg salad. Dry turkey. That kinda stuff. Got food poisoning twice.”

“Sam.” Dean put his head in his hands. He was ready to punch his dad if he ever saw him again. How could he do that to his own son? He lifted his head and looked into Sam’s eyes. They were sad. They were scared. He could see there was no light behind them anymore. Sam’s eyes used to sparkle. 

The sparkle, the love, the joy - all of that was gone from his eyes.


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remember that time parker told eliot she put a razor blade in his apple and he tore it apart and was very serious about the whole thing? he’s got. food. issues. y’all. i keEP TELLING YOU.

thetravelerscompanion  asked:

69, 85, 149 pwease!

69: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? 
(you would pick 69, uwu)
I’ve broken my toes a lot of growing up, but the worst injury is when I tore the muscles in my hip. I was in agony for nearly a full year and couldn’t do much except take muscle relaxers while I worked and slept on the floor because sleeping on my bed was excruciating. It finally healed after two years and now I can stretch and move like I used to. 

85: What is my current desktop picture?
It’s a picture of Aaravos from Dragon Prince. 

149: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me.
I’ve had a lot of mean things said to me over the years like any person, but the meanest thing said to me was, “I would never like you because you’re fat.” 
I was a 6-year-old girl who had a crush on a boy that I hung around with for a full year and thought we were friends. It stuck with me forever and ripped my already tiny self-esteem into shreds at a very young age.

But despite it being mean, I still view myself better than I did when I was a child. I like me. I like me a lot and I know a wonderful man who adores me and who thinks I’m the most gorgeous goddess on the planet.

:D So…Shawn, you can kiss my fat ass, you little bitch :D

Ask Meme is still Open

Yondu Week 2019: Day 5: Mythology | Modern

Sorry this is a day late!

Here he was, one of the most feared Ravager Captains of all time, and he was dead and caught in the bowels of hell. He was beaten, bruised and bloody, but still he fought. He had to. The polluted skeletal hands and razor-sharp claws of the demons tore at his body, shredding what was left of his skin. But still he fought. Rivers of fire ran in every direction, and noxious clouds of sulfur belched from the volcanic landscape, but despite this, it was cold. His feet threatened to fuse to the ground, shards of red ice creeping over his toes and up his legs. But still he fought, still he ran, up the mountain. Horrible shapeshifting monsters with gnashing teeth and empty eyes tried to bar his way, but still he fought, calling his arrow like blood-dipped lightning upon his enemies. Where his arrow didn’t fly, he dislocated jaws and bones with his fists, ripped out throats with his teeth, whatever it took. There was a twinkle of light, of life, there at the top of the mountain, and he had to reach it no matter what. He got closer and closer, blood running down his face. He refused to give in, even though the cold dared him to just let go – it would be easier to do so. The farther up the mountain he climbed, the more the ice tried to overtake him, the harder the beasts and demons tried to hold him back. But he was so near! Not far now! Just a few more-

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There’s Goodness In The Heart Of Every Broken Man…

Our questions ricochet
Like broken satellites:
How our bodies, born to heal,
Become so prone to die? 

(…)

There is goodness in the heart
Of every broken man
Who comes right up to the edge
Of losing everything he has.

-”Mars” by Sleeping At Last


Still not over season 6. And I’ve been waiting to draw something for this song for ages now.

🌠 Welcome back, Shiro.

Hello and this is what happens when I experiment with thumbnails and dynamics they “Magically” turn into space dad… yeah ‘magic’