ugh you are too pretty

anonymous asked:

heyyyyyyy canni have some headcanons about kaz (figuratively) adopting wylan please????

  • there was this persistent nagging in the back of kaz’s mind to check in, check in, check in even when he knew wylan would be fine on his own
  • and he had jesper, jesper would help him
  • but like any concerned parent friend would worry about their child friend out there in the real world, he lost sleep wondering if wylan was handling the business okay
  • he staged a casual run in with wylan. complete with feigned surprise, i didn’t think i’d see you here, but the second he saw wylan’s gray ringed eyes he dropped the act and asked, “don’t you sleep?”
  • wylan blushed and looked away, muttering something about having too little time for himself these days and how stressful it was. kaz wanted to wring his neck for neglecting his health just as much as he wanted to get him tucked in bed
  • the reddening nose and the slight cough wylan had didn’t make matters any better
  • he ended up dragging wylan back home, and wylan, embarrassed, admitted he had paperwork to take care of but he was waiting for jesper to get home to read it to him
  • the two sat on the couch and kaz read wylan his papers, surprisingly soothing. by the end, wylan’s head drooped onto kaz’s shoulder and kaz went tense. but at least he’s sleeping, he thought. he remained there until he was struck with a bright idea and carefully readjusted wylan, arranging his head on a pillow, absently pushing curls from his eyes
  • kaz pulled blankets over him and forged his signature on the paperwork so he wouldn’t have to stress about writing, and he placed it on the coffee table where he could see it 
  • before leaving he told the servants wylan needed soup and to have an extra place setting at dinner that night because he’d be back
  • kaz returned with an overnight bag and a prepared lie for wylan and jesper’s questions, “the slat is leaking again. my room needs to be patched up.” he didn’t ask to stay, he simply brushed past them both before they could get in a word and he picked one of the guest rooms for himself
  • kaz would return often, stay a few days, help wylan where it was needed, but say things like “you have no idea how easy you’re making it for me to rip you and your new merch partners off.”
  • but wylan knew why kaz really came around as often as he did. he was worried, especially after he witnessed how bad wylan was adjusting to his new life. and wylan needed help, kaz could teach him so much
  • kaz knew wylan knew his true intentions, but neither of them said anything about it. they both appreciated the company of each other

In the extremely unusual occasion that a run in with the FAHC results in an arrest rather than an all out firefight an argument could be made that the members of LSPD are even more displeased than the criminals themselves. It’s not just that many feel the crew members don’t even deserve the luxury of an arrest, think the world would be a better place if they were shot on sight, but also the fact that the interrogations themselves never go to plan. The possibility of being the one who brings about the downfall of the FAHC sours in the face of the intangible feeling that the arrest was intentional, that getting one of the Fakes into an interrogation room is still somehow playing into their plans.

Neither Pattillo nor the elusive Brownman have ever made it to the station, the few occasions which have come close getting cut short before they get any further than the squad car. Pattillo is unerringly polite even while effortlessly knocking out arresting officers, while Brownman is utterly relaxed, putting up no resistance and complaining loudly about losing the chance to sleep away the afternoon in custody when his crewmates drag him free. Dooley, on the other hand, seems to turn up at the station with alarming regularity; the FAHC’s newest member wandering in for anything from paying off minor traffic tickets to reporting petty crime. Its infuriating, the man exuding nothing but appropriate respect and utter sincerity, and without any evidence, without anything but street knowledge of his involvement, they can do nothing but treat him like a regular citizen.

When Ramsey is brought in he is calm, judgemental and obnoxiously sure of himself. He proclaims his innocence, his ignorance, his life as a simple businessman with just enough of a smirk to make it clear he is laughing at them, never once even hinting at anything incriminating. Interrogating the man is always a race against the clock; through bail or legal intervention he’s out of their hands almost as soon as they get him. Once, and only once, a detective tried to go the unethical threatening route, claimed other members of the crew were in unrecorded rooms having one-on-one sessions of their own, that if Ramsey cared about them at all he would just confess and save them all the trouble. It was months before they got all the blood off the walls, and the mysterious failure of every camera in the interview room had the station caught up in internal investigations while Ramsey walked away scott free.

Where interviewing Ramsey is always too short to be satisfying, no detective can be done with Jones fast enough. At first the fact that he doesn’t shut up seems like gift, his rages an easy way to trip him up, trick him into revealing information, but its not. Jones will curse you out, run his mouth about the precinct, the cheif, your mother, his own mother, and the competence levels of his crew but he never says anything of use. Even when they wise up to his methods, realise he is waiting out his time as efficiently as Ramsey in his own way, there is still no directing him; his rants and rages as genuine as they are frustrating.

The observant would note that the vagabond was never once arrested before the force gets a photo of his face, fuzzy and still obscured by face-paint but finally mask-free. When he is brought in, silent and looming but disturbingly amiable, the first thing they take is his mask. Then promptly wish they could put it back on, piercing blue eyes amused and unconcerned as the Vagabond’s smirk only twists his face-paint into more grotesque obscurity. Despite staying utterly silent, being securely chained the the table and making no aggressive moves three separate detectives leave his interrogation room in a near panic, two more refusing to even enter in the first place. Mask or no mask there is no lawyer alive who could argue for the Vagabond’s freedom, but a convenient explosion grants enough distraction for the empty cuffs to be left neatly on the table, a box full of contraband disappearing alongside the familiar black skull.

Interviewing Free feels a lot like signing up to the crew’s personal watch list. He doesn’t have the presence or deniability of Ramsey, doesn’t rage like Jones or ooze threat like the Vagabond. Instead Free is all smiles and winks and cheeky flirtation, derailing the interrogation to ask questions of his own, from opinions on sea monkeys to the statistical likelihood of extra-terrestrial life. For those detectives who play along he will answer questions in turn, talking fondly about the most dangerous criminals in the city, never actually helpful but close enough that it almost feels like a victory. For those who don’t, the detective’s who’s interrogations are aggressive and underpinned by something nastier, Free’s demeanour doesn’t change, but his careless questions do. He asks about their money problems, their monthly AA meetings, the not-always-figurative skeletons in their closets. He’ll ask, still smiling despite the rising tension, about each of their family members by name.

“Stupid Freckles” - Digital Oil Painting

This picture wanted my soul. (See what I did there? Hehe) OMG, freckles and scruff and eyelashes… this was so difficult! But I wanted to do Jensen justice and in the end, I am super happy with how this turned out. He is just stupid pretty, ugh.

This is NOT a Photoshop filter, every stroke is painted by me.

anonymous asked:

Hi there! I was just rereading the Ampersand series and see that you haven't posted the fourth (and final?) chapter yet. Is that still in the works? I know you've been busy with Pure and, of course, we all want you to get back to Come on Baby Light My Fire! But I think I speak for more than myself in saying that a little bow around the Ampersand series would be nice. Pretty please?

Ugh. You speak for me, too on this, Anon. So prepare yourself for some sorry excuses and whining below the gif and the cut.

Originally posted by lemanstreet

Keep reading

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i love you too.

         HAPPY FURUSAWA DAY! [1/18] °˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ °

6

clingy sungjun

you’re not really sure how you even got involved with demon!michael since you’re a fallen angel and the two of you are supposed to be mortal enemies or something. but you don’t feel any hatred when he hovers over you and leaves marks along your collarbone, you don’t feel contempt as he runs his hands over your body, you don’t feel spite as he whispers dirty things in your ear. all you feel is bliss and lust and passion, and you’re wondering how you had gone so long without this; without emotion, without love, without michael. the angels in heaven say you’re rebellious while the demons in hell call michael an abomination, both of them sending people out to separate and imprison the two of you. running away and going from city to city isn’t the best situation to be in, but with michael and his dark eyes and you with your broken wings, it all just feels a bit adventurous

for 5sos-writing-things and quiffedluke‘s supernatural!5sos night