tough room

A Family Friend

A work based on @directium‘s Teenage Dadvid!AU

Read the whole series on AO3

Summary: When Gwen got paired with the weird teenage dad for their history project, she didn’t know what to expect. Who could have guessed he would end up being her best friend?

Word Count: 5983

Gwen had only been at this school for about a month, but she didn’t like it much. It wasn’t necessarily any worse than her old school, but it wasn’t any better, either. At least at her old school, she still had her friends.

Her new friends weren’t bad, though. Well, maybe “friends” was too strong a word; she didn’t really know them that well, and she got the feeling that theirs was only a temporary sort of acquaintanceship. They got along fine during school hours, but she couldn’t really see them hanging out a couple years down the road.

Take Jen, for example. Gwen had met her in the history class they shared. They got along well enough; they both loved fashion, and gossip magazines, and trashy reality TV shows. But beyond that, there wasn’t much. Not enough to form a long lasting friendship. Still, she enjoyed hanging out with her, just chilling at lunch or exchanging snarky comments in class.

This particular class, they were being assigned a project. It was stupidly simple: make a presentation about whatever president you thought was the most influential. The teacher paired them up, to “lighten the load” or whatever. He sat at his desk, reading off the list of names. “Kate and Lisa. Jen and Daniel. Michelle and Gina. Gwen and David…”

Gwen stopped listening after that. David… which one was he again? She twisted around in her seat, scanning the room and trying to find a face to the name. A boy with reddish-brown hair caught her eye, flashing her a big smile. That would be him, her mind supplied. She’d never talked to him before; he seemed nice enough, though. Maybe a bit of a goody-two-shoes, but at least she wasn’t getting stuck with one of the idiotic assholes who drew dicks on the desks in the back of the room.

The teacher spent the last fifteen minutes of class explaining what he expected from them in far more detail than necessary, not that Gwen was listening. She stuffed her books into her bag, ready to leave the moment the bell rang. She had lunch next, and damn was she ready for a break. Luckily, this teacher wasn’t one of those horrendous “the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do” jerks, so she was out of her seat the second she heard the bell.

“So you got paired with David, huh?” Jen said as they left the room. “Tough luck.”

“Why?” Gwen was confused at the sympathy in her tone, but then a spark of excitement struck up inside her. “Is there something wrong with him?” She always loved a good piece of gossip.

“I don’t know about wrong, per se; he’s just weird. He doesn’t really have any friends.”

So he was an outcast. There could be some drama there. “Why’s that?”

Jen shrugged. “Probably because he spends too much time taking care of that kid of his.”

Gwen stopped dead in her tracks. “He has a kid?” She half-twisted around to try to catch a glimpse of him as he left the classroom. He’d always seemed so mild-mannered and polite, definitely not the type to have a baby so young.

Jen nodded, pulling her arm to get her moving again. “It was a whole big thing that happened freshman year. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t hear about it already. Totally normal school year, nothing weird, nothing suspicious; we have a couple days off for Thanksgiving, and David comes back to school on Monday with a baby.”

“Whoa.” That was something she didn’t see coming. “So who’s the mother?”

“No one knows.”


“A bunch of kids have asked him, and I think Daniel even tried to steal his phone once to go through his texts, but he won’t say. And trust me, we’ve tried to figure it out ourselves. No dice. There were, like, one or two upper classmen who were pregnant at the time, but they didn’t have their kids until way later in the year.”

“Someone from a different school, then?”

“Must be.”

Gwen shook her head half in disbelief, trying to get used to the idea. “That is not something I would have expected.”

“It’s not something anyone expected,” Jen said. It was all the school had talked about for months after it had happened. “This is seriously the first you’re hearing of this?”


Jen hummed for a moment as she thought it over. “Well, I guess people don’t talk about it so much anymore.”

“That sucks,” Gwen sighed. “I want to hear about this shit.”

“Why don’t you ask him about it?”


“You’re going to have to spend at least some time with David to get this stupid project done. Have him tell you about it then.”

“Do you think he would?” It seemed pretty personal, not the kind of information you’d hand out to a total stranger. Which, now that she thought about it, might be why he hadn’t really told any of the other kids anything.

“I don’t know. Aren’t parents always looking for excuses to brag about their kids?”

“I mean, I guess.” It was a little different than bragging, though.

Jen gave her a look that was borderline condescending. “You know I’m right. Just ask him. What’s the worst that could happen? He says no? Doesn’t want to talk to you?” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Not exactly a catastrophe. Now hurry up so we can get to the cafeteria already; I’m starving.”


The soonest Gwen managed to catch up with David ended up being just before their next history class. He was already at his desk when she came in, doing what looked like math homework.

“Hey,” Gwen said as she stopped next to him.

“Hi, Gwen,” David greeted brightly, looking up at her with a smile. “What’s up?”

“We need to find a time to work on this project.” It was due on Monday, after all. Not a whole lot of time to work, but then again, it seemed like the sort of project they could bang out in a couple of hours, so she wasn’t concerned. “Are you free after school?”

David shook his head, smile morphing into an apologetic half-frown. “I wish I could, but I have work.”

“How about this weekend?”

He thought for a moment. “Uh, yeah, I think that should be fine,” he said, though he didn’t sound very certain.

“Great. Saturday? My house?”

“Um, are you sure we couldn’t do it at my house? Or at, like, the library or something?”

“I don’t know my way around that well yet,” Gwen said with a small shake of her head. “Just come to mine, it’ll be easier.”

David bit his lip, looking a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. Gwen watched him fiddle with his pencil, and her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What?”

“It’s just that I’d have to find someone to watch Max, and…”

He trailed off, and Gwen decided to take advantage of the moment to do a little digging.“Max is your son, right?”

David nodded. “His daycare isn’t open on weekends, and the last time I tried to get a sitter he was an absolute nightmare.” He sighed before continuing, talking to himself more than Gwen. “I guess I could try leaving him with Mrs. Duka again, but he won’t like that at all. Oh, that’s not a tantrum I want to deal with.”

“Why don’t you just bring him with you?”

“What?” David asked, attention snapping back to her. He looked almost shocked, as if he couldn’t believe she would suggest something like that.

“Bring him with you. I don’t mind.” Truth be told, she was actually pretty curious; to the rest of the school, David’s kid was old news, but this was the first she was hearing of it—old drama could still be good drama. Besides, no one had ever figured out who the kid’s mother was. It was almost guaranteed that Gwen wouldn’t know her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t at least try to find out who it was. Maybe if she charmed him enough he’d spill.

“No, I couldn’t. Max is a handful, and he’s always making messes; I don’t want you to have to put up with that.”

“Bring him anyway; I want to meet him.”

“I—really?” His eyebrows drew together in confusion, and honestly, was it really so inconceivable that someone else was interested in his kid?

“Sure, why not?” Gwen didn’t exactly love kids, but she’d live if David brought his for one afternoon.


“Okay. See you Saturday. Maybe around one?” she said, writing her address down on the top of David’s paper.

“Yeah, see you Saturday,” he echoed bewilderedly as he watched Gwen walk back to her desk.


David stepped off the bus with Max in his arms and started walking towards Gwen’s street. Thankfully Max hadn’t been too difficult so far, but David didn’t expect his good mood to last.

“Remember, Max, we’re going to be on our best behavior today. So that means no screaming, no throwing things, and you’re going to listen to me, okay?”

Max gave a sharp kick to David’s side. “I wanna walk,” he whined.

David sighed. “If I let you walk, will you promise to behave?”

Max nodded, his curls bouncing adorably. David doubted that he actually meant it, but let him down anyway. There was no real reason not to let him walk, and besides, it’d let him get at least some of his energy out.

“No running, now, alright?” David told him, so of course the first thing Max did once his feet hit the ground was take off sprinting. David rolled his eyes and sped up a bit, watching Max carefully to make sure he wasn’t about to go somewhere he shouldn’t.

Max stayed on the sidewalk, but David should have expected that that was where his cooperation would end. Soon enough, Max had reached the curb. He stopped for a moment, like he was trying to figure out where to go next. “Wait for me there,” David called to him. Max, however, had other plans, turning the corner and starting to run again.

“No! Max!” David yelled after him, Max’s mischievous laughter drifting back to him. David upped his pace to a jog so he could catch Max before he got too far away. When he rounded the corner and saw Max toddling wobbily down the street, clearly pleased with himself, he let out an amused sigh before resuming his jog.

David caught up to him with a play-roar. He grabbed Max around the waist and pulled him back against his chest, leaning in to blow a raspberry on his cheek. Max giggled, batting uselessly at David’s face and trying to squirm away. He twisted around to face David with a smile. David smiled back affectionately and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. “Come on, little monster,” he said, standing up. “We need to go this way.”

David took his hand and started to lead them back in the right direction. He had to slow his pace considerably so that Max could keep up, but that was nothing new. “So what do you want to do after Daddy’s done with his work today?”

“Get ice cream!” Max shouted, looking up at David with a wide grin.

David gasped, pretending to be shocked. “Ice cream? In March?” Granted, it was a pretty warm day for March, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun with his kid about it.

Max nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

“No, we couldn’t.”

“But I want it,” he pleaded, putting on the puppy-dog eyes he knew David was weak for.

David tried to find the willpower to resist, but it was no good. “Okay,” he eventually relented, “but only if you’re super good today. Deal?”

Max’s grin was back as he nodded in agreement, and David couldn’t help but smile in return. The kid was just too cute for him to handle, sometimes.

When they reached Gwen’s street, he started scanning the house numbers. He found Gwen’s easily enough, not too far from the street corner. The second he stepped onto the front path, however, Max changed his mind about their outing. He’d been fine with it when they left, but now he lagged as far behind David as he could. David had to practically pull him up the steps; Max dug his heels into the ground, but it did very little good.

Safely on the top step, David released Max’s hand, and he immediately latched on to his pant leg. As he pushed the bell, chimes echoing throughout the house, he felt the kid press his face into the backs of his knees. He gave his head a gentle pat, listening to the quiet thump of footsteps approach the door.

The door swung open, and David flashed Gwen a smile. “Hey,” he said. “Sorry we’re a little late.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Barely. It’s only been, like, six minutes.”

David shrugged. “I like to be on time.”

She was about to wave him inside when she noticed the little boy watching her from behind David’s legs. She put on a friendly smile, leaning down a little so she wouldn’t tower over him quite so much. “You must be Max.”

“Oh, yeah!” David said happily. He stepped to the side and crouched down, placing a hand on the boy’s back to gently push him forward. “Max, this is my friend Gwen,” he introduced her. “She’s the one who invited us over today.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Gwen said with a sweetness that did not come naturally to her, taking a moment to really take in Max’s appearance. She had to admit, he was pretty cute. He didn’t look anything like David, though. The only feature they shared were the green eyes, but even then, the shades were nowhere near similar.

Max stared up at her, looking almost angry.

“Say hello, Max,” David gently instructed. When he didn’t listen, David took on a firmer tone. “Max.”

“Hi,” he eventually mumbled, leaning into David’s side.

David rubbed his back a bit and smiled up at Gwen before standing back up. She took that as the cue to move things along. “Well, come on in,” she offered, moving out of the doorway so that they could pass.

“Thanks,” David said, taking Max’s hand and leading him inside. “Should we take our shoes off?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He considered it for a second, glancing down at Gwen’s socked feet, before kneeling to untie his sneakers. “Take your shoes off, Max.”

Max stomped his foot. “I don’t wanna,” he protested.

“Remember what we talked about? Best behavior.”

Max huffed, crossing his arms and pouting. David pulled his own shoes off and debated what to do with Max. Normally, he’d insist he take his shoes off, which would undoubtedly lead to a tantrum. At home he could deal with that, but he didn’t want Gwen’s first impression of his kid to be a screaming, screeching mess.

After a moment, David decided the best thing to do would be to take Max’s shoes off for him. He reached over and pulled up the velcro straps on the boy’s tiny sneakers. Max didn’t seem particularly happy as David lifted his legs to pull off his shoes, but he didn’t fight it either.

Gwen watched them together; it was a little weird. She couldn’t even picture herself taking care of a younger sibling like that at this age, let alone a kid of her own. She elected not to comment on it. “We can work in the dining room,” she said instead, leading the way.

She and her family were mostly unpacked, but there were still a few boxes hanging around that they hadn’t gotten to yet. The dining room was the cleanest room they had at the moment, not a box to be seen. Gwen sat down on the far side of the table, where she had her notes and textbook waiting to be used, and David sat opposite her. He pulled his own books and a laptop out of his bag, which he left open on the floor.

Max followed David into the room, hovering beside his chair. He looked like he didn’t really want to be there.

“Think you can play quietly for a bit?” David asked him. Max could be a little unpredictable in the ways he played—sometimes he was a tornado of energy, screaming and running and damaging furniture; other days he was content to sit on David’s lap and pretend to work like him.

Max nodded as he dug through David’s bag, pulling out a plastic dinosaur and a toy car. David studied his the toys he choose with the slightest bit of a frown. He’d probably be quiet enough, but if he was playing with his car he’d be all over the place; he’d have a hard time keeping an eye on the kid and getting his work done at the same time.

Luckily, he’d had quite a bit of practice with this sort of thing. It was how he worked at home, glancing up every couple of minutes to make sure Max didn’t leave the room or accidentally tip anything over.

It was no small relief to him that Max never strayed too far. He stayed on his side of the table, crawling underneath the chairs but never going more than a few feet away. From what he could tell, Max was having his car be chased by the dinosaur—why, he had no idea. But Max seemed entertained enough, and the only noise he was making were quiet vroom sounds, so he supposed the particulars of what he was playing didn’t really matter.

David looked up at Gwen with a bright smile, pen tapping on a clean sheet of paper, ready to start writing. The fact that he was so eager to work actually pissed Gwen off a little. Seriously? she thought, raising an eyebrow. David just smiled wider.

“Anyway,” she said, pulling over her textbook and flipping to an appendix in the back. “First things first: who are we going to do this on?” She glanced over the list of presidents, not that she really remembered who had done what.

David followed her lead, turning to the same list in his book. “Well,” he said, “there are a lot of obvious ones: Washington, Lincoln, FDR… Do you care if we end up doing someone a bunch of other groups have done?”

“I literally could not care less.”

He nodded, quickly glancing over at his son before turning his attention back to the book. “In that case, maybe FDR? There should be a lot to work with.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“Do you want to start with a short biography?”

“Do we have to?” she almost whined.

“I think so,” David said as he opened up a new slide show for them to work in.

“Fantastic,” was her flat reply, skimming through the later pages of the book to find the right chapter. David gave her a half-smile and did the same.

They were able to get through a decent portion of their project before Max started acting up, kicking the legs of David’s chair. “Stop that, Max,” he said without looking up from his laptop. Max made a frustrated sound, but didn’t stop. “Max,” he warned, but the kicks continued. He looked down at the kid, face displeased and voice firm. “Max, I said stop.”

Max’s face scrunched up, and David could tell that he was just moments away from a tantrum. He’d been so good today; what happened? Wait… shit. David glanced at his watch and nearly groaned. It was 3:34. How could he have been so stupid?

“Sorry, he’s just a little cranky,” David explained, mentally berating himself. “I usually would have put him down for his nap half an hour ago.”

It was a little weird to hear him talk like that; to watch him switch from (mostly) normal teen to father in the blink of an eye. As far as Gwen was concerned, nap times were things that adults worried about, not people her age. But somehow, it seemed natural for him to be acting like that.

Well, if David could be mature, so could she. Max needed a nap? Why not just let him take a nap? “He can sleep in my room,” she offered.

David shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’d rather have him where I can keep an eye on him, anyway; he gets into trouble a lot.” Leaning down on his chair, he grabbed Max around the waist. “Come here, li'l monster,” he growled playfully, scooping the kid up onto his lap and planting a kiss on the top of his head.

Max squirmed a bit, but didn’t otherwise fight him. His eyelids were drooping as he looked up at David. David smiled, brushing some of the hair out of Max’s face. “It’s nap time for you, mister,” he said, gentle but firm.

Max whined, putting on what David was starting to think of as his signature pout. “Not sleepy,” he objected drowsily.

David chuckled a bit. “Too bad,” he said, pulling Max in to lean against his chest. He ignored the kid’s continued whining, switching his focus almost entirely back to his work. He did start lightly rubbing Max’s back, though; within minutes, he was asleep.

Gwen watched them over the top of her textbook. With Max asleep, it was the perfect time to ask some questions. After all, the main reason she’d wanted David to bring Max over here was so she could figure out who his mom was. But something was holding her back. Against all her expectations, she was starting to like David; he wasn’t that bad of a guy. A little weird, sure, and way too enthusiastic about everything, but he was nice. All of the things she wanted to know were extremely personal, and she was feeling a little bad about asking him to tell her all of that.

Her curiosity won out over her guilt. “So I gotta ask… Max’s mom…?”

David sighed; he’d expected the topic to come up sooner or later—it always did. He’d lost track of how many random kids at school had come up to him and demanded he “tell them everything,” just wanting something else to add to the rumor mill (and yes, he knew all about the rumors, and the gossip, and the wild speculations). He usually deflected, or shot the question down with a simple “that’s not really any of your business.” But Gwen was different; he liked her. He could easily see them becoming friends, which is something he couldn’t say for anyone else. He wanted to be open with her. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“You… don’t know?”

David shook his head. “I don’t know who either of his birth parents are.”

“Birth parents?” The look on Gwen’s face was one of confusion, shock, and maybe a little horror. “I’m sorry, did some crazy agency seriously let you adopt a kid when you were fourteen?”

“No, it wasn’t like that.” David’s heart twinged painfully, the same way it did every time he thought about that night. He wrapped both of his arms around Max, hugging him close. “I was walking home from school one night and I found him. In a dumpster. His parents had thrown him in there and left him to die.” His throat started closing in on itself and he swallowed thickly, pleading with himself not to cry. “I know I should have taken him to the police or something, gotten him placed in foster care, but… My own parents gave up on me when I was ten. I know what it feels like to not be wanted by anybody. It’s kind of hard to explain, but I couldn’t be yet another person to just pass him along before he was even a week old! I couldn’t set him up for that sort of life.”

Gwen was at a loss for words. “Wow,” she whispered. What else was there to say to that?

David sighed again. “I know it probably doesn’t make much sense, adopting some random kid when you’re barely older than a kid yourself. But I just couldn’t do that to him, you know?”

Not really, Gwen thought, but nodded anyway. “He seems like a good kid,” she said after a while, uncomfortable with the silence.

David let out a short laugh. “You’re just lucky you caught him on a good day.”

“Oh?” Gwen said, raising an eyebrow in an open invitation for elaboration.

David gave her a half smile. “There’s a reason I call him ‘monster.‘”

“Do tell.”

“I would, but I’m pretty sure that would take the rest of the afternoon.”

“He’s that bad, huh?”

David shrugged. “I’d like to say it’s just the Terrible Twos, but he’s been fussy for as long as I’ve had him.” David’s eyes went soft, looking down at his son. “Still,” he said quietly, “I can’t say I’ve ever regretted it.”

They were silents for a few moments before a new question popped into Gwen’s head “Sorry, it’s just… why keep it some big secret?”

He looked back up at her, confusion evident. “What do you mean?”

“You could’ve just told everyone that you found him instead of, like, making it seem like you were trying to hide something. You wouldn’t’ve had to deal with everyone asking all the time.”

David took a second to choose his words. “Max is going to feel bad enough knowing that he was abandoned. He doesn’t need other people to make him feel bad for it, too.”

Gwen went quiet; she hadn’t thought of it like that. It was so easy to forget that kids were people, too. What must it feel like to know that your parents had literally thrown you out? She could imagine all of the gossip the story would spark, and poor Max would be the one to suffer most from it. It seemed almost noble for David to be shielding him from all of that.

Max was asleep for about an hour. He was a lot more subdued when he woke up, sitting quietly on David’s lap and watching him work. Every so often he would point at something on David’s screen, demanding to know what it was and what David was doing with it. Gwen smiled as she listened to him try to explain US history at a level a two-year-old could understand.

Eventually the little boy started getting antsy, so David put him down again. He reached into David’s bag and pulled out a pad of paper and a box of crayons, sitting down under his chair to draw. David watched him for a moment to make sure he was settled before turning back to Gwen so they could finish up their work.

They were just putting the final touches on it when Gwen heard the front door opening. “I’m home,” her mom called, coming up the all.

“Hey, Mom,” she called back.

Her mom came closer, turning the corner to peer into the dining room. She had her mouth open, ready to say something, but stopped when she saw David. “Oh, hello. You must be David. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand when she spotted Max sitting under David’s chair. “And who is this?” she cooed, bending over to smile at him. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” Max stared back at her, pouting grumpily.

David grinned. “This is Max,” he told her before leaning over a bit to catch Max’s eye. “You want to come out and say hello?”

Max stayed put under David’s chair, eyeing the woman warily. She looked like one of those women who always came over and pinched his cheeks whenever David took him out somewhere. He hated having his cheeks pinched.

David gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, he doesn’t like meeting new people that much.”

“Oh, you don’t have to apologize. I remember those days well enough from when Gwen was little.” She ignored her daughter’s spluttered “Mom!”, continuing as if nothing had happened. “It’s so sweet of you to be taking care of your little brother for the day.”

Gwen winced, but David was unaffected. Enough people had made the same mistake that he’d gotten over the awkwardness of the situation a long time ago. “Actually, Max is my son.”

“Oh,” she said, taken aback. “I’m so sorry. I-I just assumed…”

David smiled reassuringly. “It’s alright. I know it’s a little weird for someone my age to have a kid.”

She cleared her throat awkwardly, wracking her brain for something to say. “He’s adorable,” she eventually managed.

“Thank you.” David’s smile never faltered. Gwen’s mom gave him a small nod before retreating into the kitchen. He watched her go before turning back to Gwen, still smiling. She opened her mouth to say something, apologize maybe, but David lifted his hand to stop her. It’s fine, he managed to say without speaking.

Gwen nodded absently, turning her gaze down to the table. She felt bad, even though she told herself she shouldn't—David wasn’t upset, she hadn’t been the one to make the mistake, there was no way her mom could have known; it didn’t matter. The silence between them stretched on, and Gwen hated every second of it.

“I’m thinking spaghetti for dinner tonight,” Gwen’s mom called from the kitchen after a few moments.

“Sounds good,” Gwen called back. She glanced up at David, and suddenly it seemed a little rude to be talking about this in front of him just as he was about to leave. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“No, that’s okay; I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition,” Gwen’s mom quickly assured him, trying to make up for her gaffe.

“Believe me, it is. Max is very picky; half the time I can’t even get him to eat anything at home. It’s very nice of you to offer, but it’ll be easier if we just go.”

“Are you sure?” Gwen asked, feeling almost disappointed.

David nodded. “Thanks, though.”

He saved the slide show one last time before closing his laptop, sliding it and his books back into his bag. He leaned over to look at Max, telling him, “It’s time to go, now. Clean up your toys.”

“Do I hafta?” Max whined, pouting up at David.

“Once we’re all cleaned up, we can head to Prof’s for dinner,” he bargained. Prof’s was a diner the two of them liked; it was far from healthy, and usually David tried to avoid feeding Max that sort of junk, but he figured he deserved some sort of treat for being so well behaved all day. Besides, he was running out of foods Max ate at home.

“…okay,” he said quietly, even though he didn’t look particularly taken with the idea. His pout stayed stubbornly in place as he reluctantly began to gather up his things.

David let out a barely-audible sigh of relief, thanking his lucky stars that Max wasn’t fighting him on this. In fact, all things considered, he’d been almost unbelievably good all day. David didn’t know what he’d done for karma to grant him such a cooperative kid today, but it must have been something amazing.

Max shoved his toys into David’s bag, handing him his drawings so they wouldn’t get crumpled. David did a quick once-over of the floor to make sure nothing had been overlooked. Thus assured that Max had gotten everything, he zipped his bag closed and stood up, hefting it onto his shoulder. “C'mon, let’s go put our shoes on.”

David made his way back into the front hall, Max following quietly behind him. When David knelt down to pull on his sneakers, the kid hovered at his back, glancing behind them every couple of seconds. Gwen had followed them into the hall, stopping a few feet away at the edge of the den. She watched them, for lack of a better thing to look at.

When David had finished tying his shoes, he stood up, guiding his son towards proper politeness. “Max, you want to say thanks to Gwen for having us over?”

Max was still for a moment, eyeing the stack of papers David was holding, before he stood up on his toes to reach for them. David dropped his arm down, trying to figure out what Max wanted with the papers. After a moment, it clicked. “You want to give her one of your drawings?” Max nodded, so David spread the pictures out for him to look at. “Which one do you want to give her?”

The kid looked over his options for a moment before selecting one. He studied it briefly, then shyly slid into David’s side. He turned his gaze over to Gwen, who was staring at a photo hung on the wall and pretending like she wasn’t listening.

David gave Max a reassuring smile and nudged him towards Gwen. “Go ahead,” he said softly.

Max shuffled over to Gwen, pulling on her pants leg to get her attention. “Gwen?”

She smiled down at him. “Yes, Max?”

He looked up at her nervously for a moment before holding the drawing up for her.

Gwen gasped, as if she hadn’t been standing right there while he and David were discussing it. “Is this for me?” she asked, feigning surprise.

Max nodded, watching her like he was trying to gauge her reaction.

“It’s beautiful! Oh, I love it! Thanks so much,” she gushed, and Max beamed. Truth be told, she had no idea what it was supposed to be a picture of; it was just a bunch of multicolored scribbles. Not that she was going to let on about that—he was just a kid, after all.

She caught David’s eye as he walked over to them, flashing him a small smile which he eagerly returned. He stopped behind his son, resting a hand on the back of his head. Max twisted around to look up at him, smile brighter than the sun.

“She liked it!” he exclaimed happily, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“That’s awesome, bud!” he said, giving Max’s hair a quick ruffle. The boy giggled, a sound that was music to his ears. “But we have to go now. Why don’t you go put on your shoes?” Max turned his head to look from Gwen to him, still smiling proudly, before walking towards the door and plopping down on the floor, grabbing his shoes to put on.

“You should feel honored,” David told Gwen, watching Max to make sure he didn’t need any help.

“Why’s that?”

David smiled. “You’re the first person he’s ever given a picture to.”

That probably shouldn’t have made her as happy as it did. “I’ll treasure it forever,” she half-joked, holding the drawing over her heart.

He chuckled lightly, turning his attention back to Max. He had his shoes on and was waiting for him by the door. “All set to go, monster?”

Max nodded as David and Gwen walked over to him. Gwen pulled open the door for them; it had cooled off considerably since the afternoon. David pulled Max’s hoodie out of his bag and helped the kid put it on, glad that he had brought it despite the warmth of the afternoon.

“See you on Monday,” David said to Gwen as he took Max’s hand, leading him down the steps.

“Bye Gwen!” Max yelled to her, far too loud.

Gwen smiled and waved back. “See ya!” she called. As she shut the door, she made a mental note to pick up some kid-friendly foods for Max to have when she invited them back next weekend.


a series of unlikely crossovers:

R: They take care of you when you’re having a migraine.

Requested by anonymous:

Hi really love your writing!! I would love to see your take on how the boys would take care of you while your having a migraine. Thanks so much. 💞💕💞❤💞💕💞💕💞💕💞❤💗💕💖💕

A/N: Thank you for your sweet words !! :D 💕 I’m really sorry this is so incredibly late but I still hope you’ll be able to enjoy it ~ Wrote this half-asleep tbh ;A; I’m tired

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No Other Men Like Me

Original imagine:  Imagine possessive!Dean when you’re flirting with the bartender to get info for a hunt written for @aprofoundbondwithdean. This is also #35 public sex/semi-public sex, (specifically semi-public) requested by an anonymous requester for my Follower Appreciation Day Drabbles from the 100 Kinks List.

Author: Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Dean Winchester x female reader

Word Count: 2586

Warnings: Explicit language, nsfw, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex

Author’s Note: This has been sitting in my draft folder for a while. I wanted to write something for Kale, because she does so much for the authors in the fandom. This one is for you and all the things you do for us. xoxoxo

Tagging: @spnfanficpond  @jensennjared @mrswhozeewhatsis @the-mrs-deanwinchester @official-shipper @balthazars-muse @brooklyn-writes-flangst @climbthatmooselikeatree @mamapeterson @rizlow1 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @winchesterenthusiast @salvachester @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @katnharper

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anonymous asked:

So I have never ever done this before cause I'm kind of shy, but I absolutely love your art. And I love MHA so when I saw you would like some MHA asks I decided to give it a try. So maybe Kaminari E3? I hope you have an awesome week! And good luck with your work!

Awww don’t be shy anon, I won’t bite! Here you go!

You asked so nicely, sorry it’s a bit messy ^^;;; I’m settling back into digital drawing after having to keep from doing it…more than a week? Thank you for the sweet words! My week is better now that I’m free from school =v= I hope you have a lovely week as well!

Sleepy ask meme (which is still open for MHA asks I guess)

Trans boy Yurio is just really fucking important to me??

I mean. Fuck. Fuck. buckle up kids cause I’m going on a tangent here cause oh, my god am I gonna cling to this headcanon till you rip it from my cold dead trans fingers. Like. I just. UGH.

I’m 26 fucking years old and I feel like I arrived WAY LATE to the transgender game gdi. Sure sure we hear stories of folks in their forties, fifties, sixties coming out or transitioning, but y’all KNOW the narrative that gets told, the one that gets attention is the “i knew since I was born” story. The older folks transitioning is often framed around this, around knowing ones whole life but never doing anything about it, and sure, you get those nice positive posts on here about not knowing till your older and having no signs till your older, but that’s not the stories that get Huff post articles and trans documentaries. It doesn’t fit the marketable ideal. Also, for trans boys, there’s no running away from the narrative of the tomboy. You had to be into sports, you had to want short hair, never wear girls clothes, hunt, wrestle, be tough. There’s usually no room for femininity in the childhoods of trans boys and that is hurtful both for the community and on a personal level cause God I was never a tomboy. Yeah I chopped my hair off super short when I was 6, but it was 1996 and half the girls in my class had bowl cuts or mushroom cuts or pixie cuts; there was no masculine drive to it. I lived on a farm and loved playing outside, but I wanted to do it in dresses an wearing nail polish. It wasn’t till I was 11 (july 28 2001 to be exact, according to Wikipedias info on when Yue first aired in an American Cardcaptors dub episode) that Anything happened in my brain to look back on years later and go oh, that was A Trans Thing.

I don’t know if it’s because I was so late in the game, so femme, if my first inclines were correct and i’m not binary trans or what it is, but 4 years since i had my first thoughts of “could /I/ be trans?” and I still find it hard to actually call myself that. I still feel fake, I still feel like even if I’m trans i’m not the kind that COUNTS, I’m not what a trans person SHOULD be. Keep in mind I’m going on 2 months on hormones now, I’ve been binding for almost 2 years, I pack, I desire a more masculine body, but I still feel like ‘i don’t count’ and don’t even talk to me about writing/drawing/seeing prexisting characters as trans. All those blogs for headcanon trans characters and trans boys I’ve always been like, how? How can you do that? How could i look at a character and go ‘he’s like me’ without feeling like a selfish asshole stealing my friends favorite characters and forcing them into a mold just so they can be like me? I’m undesirable, i’m not pretty, it seems like such stupid 2005 era self-inset Mary Sues on shit to say a character is trans. Besides, to me, saying a character is like me has always been a number 1 way to feel like SHIT since those characters never end up being characters my friends like.

SO THEN THIS MOTHERFUCKER BALLET-SPIN KICKS HIS WAY INTO MY LIFE. I’d already seen him on my dash and knew YUP, he’s gonna be my fav, but my GOD did I not understand how much. He just. He’s perfect and I adore the hell out of him, and after a couple eps I was like you know…He…kinda reminds me of me. I too am an angry little sonofabitch driven by spite and a need to destroy my competition, I also look at who beat me in a contest (im an artist) and find nothing but their flaws. I was raised by a grandparent in leiu of a mother. I just really clicked with this brat and so there was this tiny part of me that said hey, he doesn’t show his chest…he’s beautiful…everyone refers to him in feminne terms…so I thought ok maybe he’s trans. It could happen.

Then I log onto tumblr, and find a couple others with this idea…but then also a lot of people in the comments of posts being little assholes just trying to find flaws in the logic of people giving trans headcanons. Which is a douche move guys when someone wants to see a character as LGBT your job isn’t to prove them wrong fucking christ all that did was remind me oh yeah, that’s dumb and selfish>

But, then i drug my fiance into this, and my girlfriend, my fiance’s boyfriend, friend of mine in Scotland. So many people, several of whom agreed yeah, this could be a trans kid, and I thought again, ok maybe he could be. And then I got ballsy as fuck and thought, and maybe HE didn’t know from the fucking start. Maybe he was 9 or 10 or 11. Maybe that flashback where he looks 12, TOPS, was right after he started saying no, call me a boy, call me Yuri. Maybe he LIKES keeping his hair long and shaggy even if some of his rink mates or whoever still say ‘she doesn’t look like a boy’ for it. Maybe he has a drawer of cheetah print sports bras selected carefully for flatness factor and least amount of seams shown under his clothes. Maybe he doesn’t wanna be called a prima ballerina, but doesn’t mind the beauty and grace he’s learning through it. 

It’s always been hard for me to accept myself as a boy even though i /want/ to be one more than anything. i look at myself and say boys can’t have boobs and boys can’t have periods but here’s the thing; since I was 15, WAY before I knew what trans was or nonbinary or even intersex, I had OC’s who were third gender, who lived in a world with more than two reproductive sexes, who were feminine boys. THOSE were the characters I lived through, people who had vaginas and a uterus and wore dresses but were 100% seen as male by society, not a damn question asked. I never identified with or through women, but I was never hyper masculine either. THis is just the first time i’ve looked at someone ELSE’S character, a POPULAr character and said yeah, that boy has a vagina and wears bras and maybe i don’t gotta bind every day when it hurts. And it’s been a really great feeling, especially, to see that other folks think the same way. 

Back in the topic of North and York making spongebob references, what if Delta picked up on them? Like York is complaing about something and North is like “you god damn weenie” and York protests but then Delta shows up and is like
*Delta voice* my sensors indicate that you are, indeed, a weenie

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Clarke introduces Lexa to Niylah

Clarke and Lexa had barely made it out of Polis alive. The Ice Nation had attacked at night and burned most of the city to ash. Lexa had come to Clarke’s room with two of her royal guards and a thick, dark cape so they could get out of the city and save the legacy of the Commander. Both guards had died protecting the two leaders as they escaped the city.

Lexa was devastated that she had to leave her people. But her priority now had to be keeping the flame out of the hands of Azgeda. Now that she knew they had a nightblood to become Heda, everything she had planned was thrown into the wind.

Clarke had her arms wrapped tightly around Lexa’s waist as they galloped through the heavy brush of the forest.

“Arkadia’s too far to get to before morning. They’ll track us easily in the light of day. We need to find shelter.” Lexa spoke loudly over the rush of wind that whistled around them.

Clarke thought and immediately knew where they could find help and a place to be safe from Azgeda during the day.

“I know where we can go.” Clarke yelled and pointed into an opening to their left. “Follow that trail for two miles and then make a right. There’s a trading post and I know…I know the family.” Clarke stopped herself from mentioning Niylah to Lexa.

“They’ll keep us safe.” Clarke finished and pulled herself closer to Lexa as she followed her directions.

The last time she had been with Niylah it was crawling out of her bed and sneaking away before the grounder woke. Clarke’s face burned as she thought about her night with Niylah. The same feeling of need built in the pit of her stomach. But this time with Lexa so close Clarke knew that was who she had wanted all along.

They got to the familiar hut and Clarke dismounted first. She wasn’t sure what sort of greeting she would get from Niylah or what she would say in front of Lexa.

The door opened just as Lexa dismounted and Clarke saw Niylah emerge from the house.

“Clarke?” Niylah looked confused and the slightest bit hurt when she saw Clarke standing in front of her. But her expression changed completely when her eyes moved to Lexa.

“Heda!” Niylah immediately dropped to her knee and bowed her head to Lexa. “My family is honored by your presence.”

“Thank you my friend.” Lexa answered kindly and walked over with an outstretched hand. “You honor me with your loyalty to the Commander.”

Niylah looked up and grasped Lexa’s forearm. “My family is loyal to the Commander of the blood. You have lead us well and conquered our greatest enemy.” Niylah’s eyes moved quickly to Clarke before returning to Lexa. “With Wanheda by your side.”

Lexa nodded slowly. “Wanheda and I have actually come seeking shelter. Azgeda has attacked Polis. They killed everyone within the walls who didn’t escape. They left none alive during their raid. Women, children, the elderly, perished.”

Niylah’s eyes grew glassy. “Have they come to take the throne, Heda?” She was clearly concerned about the news.

“They have. Would you grant us sanctuary inside your walls? I know we put your family in great danger.” Lexa spoke with a power but also a kindness. It amazed Clarke just how well she handled her people in even the most stressful of situations.

“We would be honored to have you.” Niylah reached over to take the reigns of the horse they had ridden. “We will hide him in the barn. Please go inside and rest.”

Niylah took the horse around the large building as Clarke and Lexa walked into the trading post.

“Have you known Niylah long?” Lexa tried to ask the question casually as she looked around at the items scattered throughout the room.

“When I lived in the woods I would come here to trade my kills for things I needed. Niylah was always kind.” Clarke answered slightly vague as she too nervously picked up small trinkets to examine.

“It was just…the way she looked at you. I thought maybe.” Lexa cleared her through and didn’t finished.

“It was one time. I just-I needed to feel something.” Clarke put down the sharp flint stones she had been playing with and turned to look at Lexa. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I tried. But you never left my mind.”

Lexa put down the twine she had been threading through her fingers and gave Clarke a sad smile. “I understand. Just know that you never left my heart. I searched for you hoping I’d get the chance to show you how sorry I was…for everything that had happened.” Lexa’s head dropped.

“You have done more than enough. Seeing you in Polis and how you lead your people I understand that tough decisions don’t leave room for what you want. It has to be what your people need.” Clarke moved forward and grasped Lexa’s hands with her own.

“Right now, this is what I want.” Clarke smiled and leaned in to kiss Lexa softly on the lips before pulling away. “Thank you for loving me enough to show me what more than surviving really means.”

『2P's Meeting (Pt. 2)』

Matt almost forgot about the meeting. He was in some CanadianWoods™, chopping logs in half like a true flannel-wearing Lumberjack. Knowing that he won’t make it in time, he had to improvise.

Screams can be heard in the meeting room as a polar bear barged through the door, Matt riding on top.

Al and Xiao are both running down the hallway. Neither wanted to have knives thrown by Luciano for “tardiness”. But if one is more late than the other, then that person would get more knifes.
The race for their safety has begun

Will Xiao’s tiny legs beat Al?
Will Al outrun Xiao, who is the master of running away from responsibilities ?

Both were ran over by a white blur, faintly seeing Matt’s face riding whatever ran them over

They were 3 minutes late, slamming open the door. Both eyes are glaring at a smug Matt. Those eyes widened as a knife flew past in between them.

Lutz finally walked through the door, hair in a mess. Another knife was thrown, this time almost hitting his crotch.

His soul left his body.

Flavio and Andrés took their sweet ass time. Lmao who am I kidding, it was Flavio who’s taking his time.

Flavio is strutting down the hallway, a cup of Starbucks in one hand. Meanwhile Andrés doesn’t even want to attend the meeting.

Legend says you can see marks on the floor as Andrés body was dragged by Flavio, whose other hand was clutching Andrés’s shirt collar.

Flavio opens the door as glitter falls around. No one knows who threw the glitter, not even Flavio.

Roland wanted to have the best entrance, and didn’t care if he was late or not.

The lights in the meeting room were turned off. You can hear Gilen sighing, knowing what’s coming.

Doors opened as heavy music blaRES into the room. Rays of red and yellow light streamed through the door as Ronald waltz through, a shit eating grin on his face.

When the music stopped and lights were turned back on, Luciano’s sarcastic clap echoed through the room.

Tough crowd.

Free Fall

[Summary: The start of something new. When Commander Shrike Shepard was brought back from the dead by Cerberus, she shouldn’t have been woken so soon. Her healing isn’t complete, her body still struggling to knit bits and pieces back. Thrust back into the line of duty, how can she fill a gap of two years and reconcile her own mortality? And how can she even contemplate her own feelings for Garrus Vakarian at the same time? Comments/feedback GREATLY appreciated!


Though her world was one riddled with pain and exhaustion, Commander Shrike Shepard was unquestionably, brilliantly alive. Coming awake with a gasp, she felt every breath, a crackle in her lungs, but it was air and it was more than she had expected to feel again. Stumbling out of bed, she pulled on a tunic and pants and collapsed into her chair in front of her computer, scrolling through her emails with increasingly desperate clicks. So many cries for help, a few people reaching out to say they were glad she was alive, but none holding the message she wanted to see. No update on Garrus Vakarian, stuck in the Medbay. No word whatsoever.

“Commander Shepard, Jacob requests your presence for a meeting.” EDI was another thing for her to get used to. With a start, Shepard stood up and stretched. The pain might go away, Chakwas said, but it might not. They could only wait and see. Cerberus had never intended for Shepard to wake up so early, and definitely hadn’t intended for her to be up and running before some rigorous physical therapy. Everything that could have gone wrong did, but what choice did she have? Her whole life had been running and there wasn’t any time to stop now. Death had just been a roadblock and not a stopping point.

Rubbing an ache that had set deep into her neck and didn’t seem inclined to leave, Shepard stood again with a sigh. “EDI, if I knew coming back from the dead would mean so much paperwork, I never would have bothered.” A beat, a heavy silence, and “that was a joke, EDI.”

Leaving the safety of her cabin behind, she contemplated the meeting ahead of her. Jacob was affable, even likable, but he was Cerberus and she needed to remind herself of that. Something had driven him to join the organization in the first place, and given their often virulently pro-human leanings, she couldn’t trust him with the rest of her crew just yet, not when she had already brought together a couple of aliens and planned on bringing many more on board. Until she figured out what Jacob’s angle was, it was best to keep her distance.

At the same time, she owed Cerberus her life, such as it was. Broken, shattered, and brought back to soon, but it was life. Patting her customary bun to make sure it was still in place, Shepard entered the meeting room, still marveling how much the new Normandy felt like home already. All of this was incredibly dangerous, and she needed to keep on her toes, but it was so damn hard when all she wanted to do was take a long nap and hope to wake up to a world that made sense.

Nodding at her, Jacob launched right into his briefing, mostly concerned with the events on Omega and what they had learned. Most of the intel concerned the gangs that ran rampant, now much diminished and lacking firm leadership. It wasn’t the last of them though- not by a longshot. They would be back sooner or later, this just a temporary stopgap in their battle to continue ruling Omega as much as Aria allowed.

“Commander, we’ve done what we could for Garrus, but he took a bad hit.” It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear, though the sheer depth of how much it hurt to hear it surprised even Shepard. As far as she knew, she and Garrus were just friends- they had been close, before she had died, but this felt like something more, another complication that she didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with. She needed to focus on getting her own body to behave and heal without getting distracted, but something deep inside felt tight.

“The docs corrected with surgical procedures and some cybernetics,” Jacob continued, “Best we can tell, he’ll have some full functionality, but…” His voice trailed off, leaving her to fill in the gaps. Cerberus could work miracles for her, but they could only go so far for a turian.

Her face hurt; whether it was the scars or simply the effort of holding back emotion Shepard didn’t know. Rubbing the spot between her eyes, she was interrupted by a new voice joining their conversation, one flanged and deceptively casual. “Shepard.”

Garrus stood in the doorway, half of the upper part of his armor scorched and destroyed, his face held together with bandages and medigel, lending a sharp, astringent smell to the small room.

“You tough son of a bitch.” Jacob’s words reflected her own thoughts exactly, but she shot him a look. This was between her and Garrus now.

“Nobody would give me a mirror. How bad was it?” Was honesty always the best policy? With Garrus, it probably was, and shit, he looked awful. Probably not any better than she looked, but at least she didn’t have an obvious bits being held together.

Two truths and a lie. “Hell, Garrus. You were always ugly. Slap some face paint on there and no one will notice.”

He laughed, noise cut off with a choke of pain. “Damn it, don’t make me laugh. My face is barely holding together as it is.” A legitimate concern- how much muscle and skin connected a turian mandible to the rest of his face?

Their banter continued back and forth for a few minutes more. The scars wouldn’t be a bad look for him when he healed, but hell if she was going to admit that. Instead, she settled on, “If I’m walking into hell, I want someone I trust by my side.” There were things she found herself wanting to aside, quips and asides, but none of them were appropriate for the situation and for their relationship. Two years apart and she was expecting it to pick back up where it had left off, maybe even take that momentum to keep moving forward.

“So, uh… How was dying, Shepard?” His tone was falsely bright, arms crossed across his chest. A slow ooze of red had started across his bandages just from talking, his jaw moving too much.

“I say this with all due respect, but shut up, Garrus. That’s an order. Your face needs to heal.” She contemplated it for a moment; it was familiar, but now the entire topography had changed so much when he angled it even slightly. “There was nothing there. Just black. I don’t remember any of it. No bright light, no tunnel. Nothing.” It was like she had been asleep and then had come back awake, but… not the same at all. There were no dreams in death.

Garrus gave a lazy salute and nodded. “That’s a relief to hear, strange as it sounds. When I was bleeding out there, I expected more.” Shit, she really had nearly lost him.

“I gave an order, Vakarian.” Shaking his head at her, Garrus turned and left her alone with her thoughts.

Death, it seemed, couldn’t hold either of them back permanently.

jennamatan  asked:

So I don't really know much about any of the marxist thoughts. Trotskysim, Luxembourgism, Maoism. But people I'm aware of (you included) all favor one of the above over the others. Why is there such a divide and what are the differences between them? Whenever I read about them they all seem basically the same to me. But I'm naive about them, so that prolly explains it...

I mean fuck, I’m trying to figure it all out too lol. Like, even within trotskyism, theres like a dozen splits, about stuff like “was the USSR state capitalist? bureaucratic collectivist? Or a degenerated worker’s state?”

A lot of people gravitate to certain tendencies based less on their history or their ideas and moreso on personal associations with them, aka “i went to this one group’s meeting at my campus and it sucked so now I hate all MLs.” I try to reject this thinking, but we are all subjective human beings and all vulnerable to it :p

Basically, if I had to characterize the three you mentioned, which are all basically different replies to ML orthodoxy:

Maoism - likes to think of itself as synthesizing the best of anarchism and leninism, bc balances commitment to serving the people and direct action (people’s war) with support for the establishment of a revolutionary state. Big on tumblr bc 1) anarchism is big here, so anarchic leninism is big too lol and 2) it let’s you talk tough about solidarity with ongoing revolutionary struggles like those of the naxalites, without actually having to do anything yourself because no solid maoist groups exist in the us

Luxemburgism - also popular for being amenable to anarchist ideas, bc its all about “we need a state except like…non hierarchical and stuff.” So it doesn’t have the baggage of being pro-prison (which narkies on here will fucking savage you over), but it gives a lot less room for tough guy posturing, since Luxemburgism and council communism/left communism as a whole have done fuck all historically in terms of successful revolutionary movements. 

Trotskyism is the closest to ML orthodoxy. In fact, it claims to be the actual orthodox approach to Leninism, mainstream ML is just “Stalinism” and thus, bullshit. Trots want a strong workers’ state, hierarchically organized but with at least a bit more openness to dissent and democracy than in traditional ML. Trots like to talk theory too, but tend to be more old school and, from my experience, constantly harp on about being “Bolsheviks.” Also have a rep for being pseudo-socdems. 

And since I talked about them: MLs tend to be like Maoists in that they are desperate to seem tough and will constantly posture about like, “all of my heroes have blood on their hands” like whoa there Rambo, pretty tough talk for someone who only hits books. Thing is Maoists will at least throw out some theoretical discussion, MLs will just extort people to stand by various examples of ‘actually existing socialism,’ so expect a lot of talk about “support revolutionary Cuba! Support the bravery of FARC! Honor the immortal legacy of daddy i mean commandante Castro! Deng Xiaopeng did nothing wrong!“

john and sherlock attempt to declutter the flat

  • sherlock doesn’t want to because this is his space and these are his things but he asks john for help because he can’t find the things he needs anymore and he trusts john not to pressure him to throw stuff away
  • john understanding how much it is costing sherlock to even consider throwing away some things and talking about it with him for a long time before agreeing to help
  • they throw away some old evidence piles and some old newspapers before they find a stack of papers from their bachelor days, and they spend an hour going through them and snogging while cheekily calling each other “husband” at every other turn
  • “sherlock, what is this?” “um” “okay, what did this used to be?” “um…” “did this used to be alive?” “i think we can probably throw that away actually”
  • john finding seven printers around the sitting room. why are there so many printers. what is sherlock printing. sherlock can’t even remember and he gleefully tosses them out the window into mrs. hudson’s bins 
  • “you can’t just drop things out the window, sherlock.” “really?” *thud* “look at that, gravity says i can”
  • sherlock’s fingers lingering over a few old binders. “what are those, hm?” john asks, and sherlock gives him a shy little smile and takes them out. they’re copies of his first violin compositions, written with a scratchy fourteen year old hand, and he plays for john until he’s too embarrassed to keep going, and john puts the binders back on the shelf and kisses him soundly
  • stacking up books to take down to the charity shop and fighting about whether anyone will actually want to read a 1972 treatise on the effect of lsd on mind control powers (results were inconclusive)
  • but then sherlock starts to back up a little and john notices that his hands are shaky and he remembers that he’s supposed to be helping sherlock and taking care of sherlock and he puts the book in the stack and takes sherlock over to the sofa and helps him count out his breathes for a while
  • “they’re just things john. they don’t mean anything. why is this so hard? what’s wrong with me?” “there isn’t anything wrong with you sherlock. they’re not just things, they’re the things that make up your space, and it’s okay if it’s hard to disrupt your space. we got a whole bookshelf sorted so let’s be done for the day, yeah? what do you say we stack up these piles over to the side and go get some pasta, hm?” and sherlock slumping into john a little because of course, of course john understands
  • john rubbing sherlock’s back as they slide the piles to the side. sherlock taking a deep breath when they stand back up and pulling john to him, cradling john’s face in his hands as he kisses john, “thank you. thank you. thank you.” and john has to sniff a little and blink hard when he pulls back because all he wants, all he ever wants, is for sherlock to be happy and whole and comfortable and at peace, and that anyone could have ever made him feel less than those things over something as little and inconsequential as stuff is just too much to even think about
  • they go to angelo’s for dinner because it’s familiar and sherlock holds john’s hand over the table and they both eat too much and by the end of the night they are laughing with each other and bumping into each other on their walk home and stopping just out of the reach of the street lamps to kiss in london’s evening fog, and john thinks even the hard days are going to be beautiful as long as they’re together, and isn’t that something to find in another human being
  • isn’t. that. something.
  • Ranma:  *walks into Akane's room, holding note cards*
  • Akane:  *looks at him with a raised eyebrow*...
  • Ranma:  *clears his throat and starts reading from the cards* you are so fat that when you cut yourself marshmallow fluff comes out
  • Akane:  *shocked expression*
  • Ranma:  no? How bout this one? Your so fat that your high school year book photo will be taken by a helicopter
  • Akane:  *getting angrier*
  • Ranma:  tough room... *looks at card* your so fat that when you get on a scale it says one at a time
  • Akane:  *lounges at Ranma* YOU SON OF A-
  • Ranma:  *cuts her off* wait! Wait! How bout this one, your belly button makes an echo, if you were a truck you'd have a wide load sign, when you back up we can hear a beeping!!
  • *Ranma is then savagely beaten by Akane*
In which Gabriel is king of flirting

For @casandsip because fluff.

Gabriel was the king of flirting. Everyone knew it. He told them so all the time.

He was charming. He was witty. He was reasonably good-looking and knew how to persuade people he was more than that. He could flatter his way into anybody’s good books.

But he still couldn’t get that gorgeous, adorable, floppy-haired art student to notice that he was hitting on him.

Every weekday morning at eight he’d shuffle into the coffee shop where Gabriel worked, rubbing his eyes and mussed-up and yawning hugely behind his hands, rubbing them together in their patched brown woollen gloves to chase away the late-winter cold. Every day he’d order the same boring boring black coffee in a take-away cup just in case he had to run away early (which he never did), and he’d smile the same sleepy distracted adorable diffident smile when he thanked Gabriel for making it. Then he’d curl up at one of their corner tables with his books and pencils (or charcoal, or pastels, or whatever it was that day), and go to work.

Gabriel had considered the question at great length over the last month or so—usually out loud, to Balthazar or Charlie or Anna or Castiel, until Balthazar draped a towel over his head to shut him up—and had come to the conclusion that there was absolutely nothing in the world so attractive as the expression of concentration on the face of a gorgeous genius as he made gorgeous works of genius. Unless it was the way he sometimes nibbled on his thumb when he was thinking. Or lowered his glasses on his nose to squint over the top of them for a different view. Or the way he filled his worn old shirts. Or—

Or the way he completely failed to notice every time Gabriel winked and flattered and tried to draw him into cheerfully suggestive conversation, because apparently his brain travelled straight from sleep to art without bothering to notice mundane details like the cutest of baristas in front of him.

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This Is Why I Have Trust Issues (Pietro x Reader) Part 2

Summary: After not having seen the inhabitants of the tower for a while, Y/N reluctantly agrees to go to a party there on the basis that her ex, Pietro, is going out of town on a mission. Unfortunately, things don’t go exactly as planned.

Chapter List


Part Two

You stood outside his room, just as you had done so many times before. Maybe it would be easier if you were the one to blame; at least you would have something to talk about. You could apologise. But that was one thing that you sure as hell weren’t gonna do. Unless he did it first. Because, let’s face it, it was his fault. Well, no. No. It was both of you. It just… It was easier for you to blame it on him. Made you feel better about yourself. You decided to get it over and done with.

You took a deep breath before knocking tree times on the door. It took him a while to answer, but when he saw you, his face dropped into a scowl once more. You mirrored his facial expression, trying to let him know that you weren’t crawling back to him.

“Why are you here?” he growled, and you crossed your arms.

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Pitch… stop… NOW.

…And we all know what happened in the end. The Antartica scene… dammit Pitch, you were so close, but then you just had to lose your shit.

God I hate this dork. Also, if you claim Pitch did not find Jack the least attractive in the movie, you’re wrong. Naww, just kidding… (The looks Pitch gives Jack throughout the the movie tough, srsly… GET A ROOM.)