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TMI Appreciation Week:  Day Four | Favorite Platonic Relationship; Clary Fairchild & Simon Lewis and Jace Herondale & Alec Lightwood

“In all the years I’ve known him, there’s always been exactly one place Simon wanted to be, and he’s always fought like hell to make sure he got there and stayed there.”
“Where’s that?”
“Wherever you were.” 

“I did not make a pie, for three reasons. One, because I do not have any pie ingredients. Two, because I don’t actually know how to make a pie.”
“And three?”
“Because I am not your bitch.”

loki-horsediddler  asked:

So, I'm sitting here trying to do some crafts and my dog keeps coming up and distracting me and wanting to play ball or cuddle.. So, imagine here with me (since it keeps playing in my head).. Stiles trying to make something or just busy working and Derek in full wolf shift just trying to get his attention because "Come on Stiles! You've been working all morning! Look how cute I am and you could totally be paying me attention instead of all that stuff." and then Derek just falling on his stuff.

Originally posted by patchismyhusband

This is a wholesome and amusing image and I shall cherish it always. 

I love this even more with the thought Derek is just….so fucking bad at telling Stiles he wants attention….and he knows Stiles can’t resist him when he’s on his back, begging for belly rubs (”if you tell anyone I like this….” “yeah yeah, throat, teeth, I know the drill”) but at the end of the day Derek is just Derek and if sitting on Stiles’ paperwork is how he’s got to play it, he’s going to sit on that paperwork. He’s still every bit of the asshole Stiles fell in love with, after all. It wouldn’t do not to play dirty. 

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But like can we just appreciate the Doctor’s look when Hydroflax says “false wife” I MEAN WHAT A SMUG IDIOT.— @hegaveallhecouldgiveher

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If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but a n n i h i l a t i n g.
Both of you are great light borrowers.
Her O-mouth grieves at the world; yours is unaffected,

(The Rival, by Sylvia Plath)

It’s 2am, Neil’s shuffling into the kitchen to get a glass of water, he flicks on the light and turns around to find himself face to face with a giant tabby cat, who’s been sitting there on the countertop watching him, with it’s eerily sentient eyes. He jumps, and, on his instinct driven backwards step, trips over the water bowl behind him in a cacophony of clattering metal and grunting, before landing on his ass in a painful thud. Andrew, instantly awake and already running out of the room, ready to beat an intruder to death, half blind given he was dead asleep 2 seconds ago, falls over Neil on his way into the room and the both of them end up sprawled on top of each other on the kitchen floor. The cat jumps off the counter and sits on Andrew’s back.

“You fucking idiot,” Andrew says.

“They’re your cats asshole.”