we deserve this pizza

Day Eighty-Six

-A woman knocked over a stack of brochures at the register. She attempted to fix it, but instead simply knocked it over to the other side. Thankfully, it is the thought that counts, so she and I can remain best friends.

-A wide-eyed man with wild hair and a two-pronged beard walked through the store looking like a cartoon depiction of Satan sticking a fork into a power outlet.

-I told a woman to have a good day, to which she angrily said, “Okay!” I nearly followed her to apologize and let her know that I will not force her to do anything against her will.

-An elderly man threw a twenty-dollar bill at my face. The next man handed me his cash as meekly as one could. I appreciate his existence and his natural drive to balance things out.

-I asked a woman how she was. She replied, “Forty dollars,” and pushed a gift card at me. She has been one of my more affable guests today.

-While I was stocking candy, a woman approached my lane. Once I got back to the register, the woman looked me in the eye, and left for the adjacent cashier.

-I was angrily called “Dora” after an elderly woman had a coupon denied. I have no follow-up commentary for this as I still have not entirely processed it myself.

-A woman announced, to nobody in particular, that she deserved a free pizza. I agree with you, ma'am, and I will stand by you until we all get the free pizzas we deserve.

-I was handed a box of tampons. Upon picking them up, I found the box to be unnaturally warm, almost hot to the touch. The only thing burning with more intensity than the box were the questions it left me with.

-A young mother found that she had perfect change. Her children gave her a standing ovation with neither hesitation nor prompting. I am unsettled at the lack of credits rolling after this, as I had been certain that this level of familial support did not exist outside of cheesy sitcoms.

You Can’t Get a Man With a Gun (Prompto x Reader)

SFW

Prompto x Reader

Word count: 1,093

First time writing for Prompto. My god he is so adorable. This story was inspired by the song “You Can’t Get a Man With a Gun,” from Annie Get Your Gun. Originally performed by the wonderful Betty Hutton. 

The story takes place during Prompto’s years in high school. Noctis offered Prom a spot in the Crowns Guard, but he has to learn how to defend himself. Lucky for him he runs into you, a masterful gunner. You’ve got a crush on little sunshine boy, so helping him out might prove a little difficult. 

I hope you all enjoy some cute Prompto. 

Remember if you all have some requests, go ahead and hit up my ask box. :) I can do matchups, head cannons, and story requests. All SFW.  <3 

You never truly got used to the hustle and bustle of city life.  Insomnia was nice, but you missed the rolling acres of Lucis that laid just outside the safe walls of the Crown City. 

You missed the fresh air.
You missed the quiet nights.
You missed hunting most of all.
With a sigh, you reloaded your gun and raised it in front of you. Your index finger laid carefully on the trigger as your eyes concentrated on the target. For that moment the rest of the shooting range disappeared. The sounds of the other’s guns dimmed into a silent muffle under your earmuffs. You exhaled deeply and squeezed the trigger on the pistol.
You lowered your gun to see a hole pierced through the target… only a few inches below the bullseye.
“Dammit,” you muttered, displeased with the results.
“Whoa,” a muffled voice sounded from behind you. You took off your earmuffs and turned around.
A familiar slender blonde stood behind you staring in awe. Prompto.
Your heart dropped to our stomach. You two went to school together. He was Prince Noctis’s best friend. Why would he be at the shooting range?
I came here to not see anyone I know, you thought. Especially him.
He smiled brightly and his blue eyes sparkled with admiration.
“Your mad about that shot?” He marveled. “I mean… I wish I could even hit the target.”
Your heart sped up as you felt your cheeks warm. Quickly, you ran your hand through your hair hoping that you flattened any unruly strands.
“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” He asked enthusiastically.
“I uh… I’m self taught,” you explained.
“Wow. Do you think you can give me some pointers? I just started using this thing like a week ago,” he pulled out his own pistol from his backpack. He carefully placed his bag on the floor and walked closer to you. “I’m Prompto, by the way,” he held out his free hand to you. “I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself to you, Y/N. I can’t believe we have so many classes together and we’ve never had a proper conversation.”
Hesitantly, you gave him your hand and he shook it.
A chill was sent up your spine as your hands met. “Yeah, likewise,” you nodded nervously.

Prompto was one of the first boys you noticed on your first day of school. He always smiled so brightly. He was so confident…. so kind and so funny. His comments in class always made you giggle. Even on your worst days, his optimism never failed to shine some light over you cloud of anxiety.
You always tried to find a way to strike up conversation with the boy, but chickened out last minute.
His best friend is the prince, for the Gods’ sake. He doesn’t want to talk to some…. country hick that’s only talent was to shoot a gun.

“So what do you say? Can you help me?” His voice snapped you back to reality. “If I ever want to join the Crowns Guard, I gotta put some extra effort in. Besides, you’re much nicer than the people training me at the palace.”
“Sure,” you cleared your throat. “Well, for starters, you should probably take these,” you took your earmuffs off your neck and passed them to him.
“Don’t you need them?”
“Nah,” you assured, slowly becoming more and more comfortable in his presence. “You’ll need them more than I do. Besides, I’m used to the sounds by now.”
He slid the earmuffs on. “How do I look?” He giggled.
“Like a trendsetter,” you chuckled. “Now, let me see your stance.”
“Oh!” He snapped back into a serious attitude. He stood up straight and shot his arms out in front of him, his right hand gripping his pistol, his left resting on his right. He shut his left eye and tilted his head a few degrees to the right. “How ’s this?”
“You gotta relax,” you informed. “You’re not gonna be able to shoot anything if you’re tensed up like that. Especially if your gonna be guarding the Prince.”
He dropped his stance and sighed.
“Don’t get discouraged. You’ve only been at shooting for a week right?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “You’re right.” He perked up again. “So what do I do, teach?”
“Show me your stance again. Do exactly as you just did.”
He did as commanded.
“For one, keep both eyes open. Having one eye closed means your only half concentrated on your target.”
“True,” he opened his left eye.
“Stare straight ahead and keep your eyes on the target,” you instructed and he complied.    “Lower your gun a bit.”
“This good?”
“Um… you lowered it a bit too much.”
He raised it up a few inches too many. “How about this?”
You smiled, “Here, lemme help,” you walked behind him and put your arms around his shoulders as your hands gripped his strong arms. You adjusted his arms to the perfect height. You peered over his shoulder to see the target. “Okay, go ahead and pull the trigger.”
POP.
“Aw yeah!!!” Prompto cheered. You saw a hole in the target only inches under yours. “I actually hit something! I can’t wait to tell Noct!”
You smiled at his excitement, but soon nervousness consumed you. You were still holding Prompto’s arms from behind. 
 Your face began to warm again and you unhooked your arms from Prompto.
“Did you see that, Y/N?! I actually hit the target,” he spun around to look at you. He tugged off the earmuffs that ruffled his already unkempt hair.
“Good job,” you praised, praying your face wasn’t as red as a tomato.
“It was all thanks to you,” he pulled you into a quick hug and released you to reach into his pocket for his phone. “Let’s a take a picture to commemorate  this historical moment!” With a swift movement of his thumb, he turned on his phone’s camera and faced it toward you and him. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling him to his side while he held the camera out with the other.
“Smile!” He took the shot and pulled his phone closer to look at the final result. “Awesome,” he concluded. “Do you wanna go get some pizza?”
“Shouldn’t you stay and practice more?”
He sighed, “I probably should. But honestly, I’ve already made more progress than I expected to today. Besides, I think we both deserve some pizza. C’mon,” he persuaded. “My treat.”
“When you put it that way…” you smiled. “Lead the way, Prompto.”

Coffee Chugging

Pairing: Barry Allen x reader
agentaprilwinchester
requested:
Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Barry Allen x Reader one? Where the reader was struck with lighting too, and is a metahuman with the same powers as Barry? Then they have a day of trying to be better than each other(like coffee chugging contest, racing, fighting, ect), and then at the end of the day they go home and just get really cuddly(lots of fluff, if that’s alright)… PS. Love your writing soooo much!
Words: 1751
Warning: None, I think…

For all my Harrison Wells lovers out there, check out @karmadragonia 
She wrote a smutty Harrison Wells fic that y’all should definitely check out! 
(Sorry hon for not reblogging, I hope this is ok for you?) 


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soos on tumblr

accidentally tumblr famous. the tumblr user pizza we need and deserve. He makes a bunch of obscure aesthetic-y photoshop edits and blogs about old-school games. He likes new ones too but the pull of nostalgia is too strong. Food and cool music come up a lot too. He posts a surprising amount of fashion. He’s managed to get a couple good selfies with Stan and his followers ask how Stan’s doing a bunch. There is one very persistent anon who wants to know if he’s “obtained the old man dong yet.” He doesn’t answer these because children follow him.

The anon is Wendy

why we don’t deserve glenn rhee
  • worked as a pizza deliveryman and is now an expert at surviving
  • always sees the best in people
  • believes in second chances
  • when he first killed a living human, he started to cry
  • put’s peoples needs before his
  • tries to save people even tho they could be dangerous for him
  • he would do anything to protect his family
  • he loves maggie more than any thing in this world and would rather die than seeing her get hurt + he is going to be a fantastic father
  • his whole family is dead but he found a new family all by himself
  • almost died at least 10 times and always survived (binch you can’t kill him)
  • he didn’t let this cruel world poisen him 

in conclusion: don’t kill off glenn rhee @ twd writers

#136: He's there when your boyfriend's not.

masterpotato

Liam:“I know he’ll be here.” You insisted, fixing your hair in the mirror to mask the fact that you knew Liam was right. “That’s what you said last week.” He mumbled under his breath. “Okay, c'mon.” He sighed when your lip began to tremble. He opened his arms for you to come closer, and you graciously accepted. “Let’s get you out of this dress and we’ll watch a movie, hmm?” He asked, kissing your head. He didn’t complain as you clutched onto his shirt and cried. He welcomed it, because that meant a new beginning for you. Hopefully him.

Zayn:“He said his Grandma was sick.” You sobbed into Zayn’s chest. He ran careful finger down your spine to try and contain the anger he was feeling for your ass of a boyfriend. “I know.” He mumbled into your hair, leaving a few kisses there. “He was at a party, Zayn! With her!” You exclaimed, pulling away from him to make your point. He immediately missed your warmth. “Come here.” He whispered, grabbing your bicep and pulling you back to him. “You’re way too good for him." 

Louis:"C'mon, love.” He whispered, ushering you into the passenger seat of his car. He didn’t flinch when your (ex)boyfriend came right up next to him and demanded he let you out. “I don’t think so, mate. You’ve fucked her over way too many times and I’m not gonna let it keep happening. You’re scum, and I’m ending this now.” He spat, pointing a warning finger in his face. “Don’t you try to contact her or I will personally beat the shit out of you.” He snapped, walking to the other side and hopping in the car, pulling out of the restaurant car park. “I think we deserve a pizza, what do you think?” He smiled over at you his angry demeanor gone in seconds, and despite your tears, you couldn’t help but smile back.

Niall:He had gotten a heart- wrenching phone call at around half eleven at night from you, and of course he was over to your place in minutes. “You can do so much better than him, you know.” He whispered, his hand in your hair and your face to his chest. “He was an ass anyway, it’s good he’s gone.” He hummed, kissing your head lightly, hoping to ease your sobbing. “You’re right.” You cried, not able to stop your blubbering. “Why can’t I just date you instead?” You sad quietly, not loosening your grip around his middle. And while you didn’t give the question a second thought, his heart began to hammer in his chest, but he had to stay calm, you were in hysterics. But he didn’t think before he whispered “I’d treat you so much better.”

Harry:“Where's Prince Charming?” He said in the most childish tone you had ever heard from him. You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand, not expecting a comment like that. “He’s at a party tonight.” You finally sighed, your laughing completely subsided. “And you’re here eating ice cream with me and not at a party with him because?” He inquired, shovelling a spoonful into his mouth. “Because even Prince Charming needs a break, apparently.” You mumbled, angry with him for ditching you to begin with. “What a prick!” Harry said defensively, looking at you to see if you were being serious. “Fuck him, we don’t need him. We’ll have a party without him.”

Fic: Shock And Awe

anon prompted: Every year when the MET ball comes around I wonder how Klaine would be if they were the ones preparing like outfit planning, getting dressed together and actually going to the ball and I was wondering if you could pleaseee write it? :)

I’m a little belated, but it’s always a good time for a ball, right? PGish, 1200 words, fluff.

Kurt barely noticed the front door of their apartment opening, too focused on the fancy cream-colored invitation in his hands to care about anything else.

“Kurt? Babe, are you home?” Blaine’s voice sounded as if it was coming from a distance, though Kurt could see him come to stand in front of his own place on the couch. “Why didn’t you answer my texts about what to have for dinner?”

“I can’t,” Kurt trailed off, still frantically reading and rereading the text. “I just.”

Blaine knelt down and made eye contact with Kurt, bracing himself by placing his hands on Kurt’s knees. “Sweetheart, you’re scaring me. I need you to use full sentences, please.”

“Here!” Kurt thrust the invitation at Blaine, who scanned it quickly before double-taking and rereading it with more vigor.

“We got invited to the Met Ball?!” he said, looking up at Kurt with wide, excited eyes. “We - this isn’t-”

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