I Don't Know But I Think This Is What You're Looking For

I don't know but i think this is what you're looking for

https://twitter.com/mineo406/status/1227148938215448577?s=20&t=jt8SxiN6A0trLLHbBZaH_A

P/s: sorry but i don't know how to reply to this post except for reblog it

a fanart that never stops being funny to me is that one where young utahime isn't wearing a hakama but actually a long skirt and the wind lifts it, and then gojo, geto and shoko are all crouching to get a look. it just feels so in character for all of them

I think I saw this art toooo but I cant find to link it here hehe… but

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 I probably be the 4th person underneath tho idcccc

Im sorry Utahime, I am looking not respectfully

I am curious too 👉🏻👈🏻

Wine & Writes: Coffee Prompt

Author: Ladelle | Drabblemeister Prompt: Behind every successful person is a substantial amount of coffee. Comments: Finally posting something, would you believe it Summary: Wherein Tim is a walking tragedy who has an embarrassing crush on a certain barista. There was something to be said for the amount of busy Tim was, though anyone wandering the floor of Wayne Tech with two brain cells to spare dutifully kept their thoughts to themselves. After all, laying insult to what was very obviously a genius was an undertaking for persons with a much higher pay grade - and since Bruce Wayne seemed to turn a blind eye to the amount of Starbucks cups that, at this point, looked like planned decor within Tim’s office - it was fair to deduce that there may not actually be a problem.

Tim, begrudgingly, knew he had a problem. Though, contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t caffeine. It wasn’t coffee, either, though he was definitely okay with the convenience of that particular assumption as it was a red herring he was prone to fall back on. After all, it was a lot easier for people to believe he fantasized about midday Americanos and not Jason T., the barista, who served them.

“Ugh,” Tim said, spinning in his desk chair. He’d slept in too late and nearly been tardy for a meeting, and so he hadn’t stopped by the coffee shop at his usual time. It was enough to drive him insane. “What am I? Seventeen?”

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Does anyone have any updates on Mr. Hanyu yet? I can't watch his performance where I'm from😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Idk what I’m supposed to title this.

I just found this and thought it was cool

Thinkin bout a Steter Twilight AU written through my personal dumbass lens.

Like Stiles shows up at school, get partnered with Derek in chemistry and is all “wow you definitely don’t look young enough to be in high school what the fuck.”

Derek just stoically stares at the whiteboard, wondering why he can’t hear this kid’s thoughts.

“You know if this were a summer blockbuster and I were the new hot chick, this is totally when you’d be falling in love with me.”

Derek continues to stoically stare at the whiteboard, no longer curious about why, only grateful that he doesn’t have to put up with whatever idiot thoughts are happening in Stiles’ head.

Lunch time rolls around, and Stiles looks over at the Supernaturally Beautiful Kids Club and gestures dramatically at them, saying, “Come on! Early 20’s AT LEAST. They can’t ALL have been held back four years!!”

Erica and Boyd snigger while Lydia and Allison glance apprehensively at Derek, wondering if the new kid knows something.

“He’s a fucking moron. Just let him run him mouth to distract from how uncomfortable he is to be in a new school. He’ll stop paying attention soon.”

Spoiler alert: He Does Not.

Stiles is always Stiles no matter what universe he’s in, so he goes into the woods near the Hale’s house to “gather evidence.”

“Evidence of what, Stiles?” the sheriff asks, not entirely familiar with Stiles Being Stiles.

“Evidence. They’re not normal, Dad. My current theory is either aliens or escaped genetic experiments done by the government.”

“…………”

“Don’t worry. If I get caught I can just toss my money clip in the opposite direction to throw them off.”

“What.”

“Street smarts.”

And again, in the vein of Stiles Being Stiles, he’s climbing a tree to get a look into the upper windows of their house, thinking maybe that’s where they keep the cryochamber, when he falls and breaks his leg.

He’s just starting to get really inventive with his litany of “fuck” when he notices someone standing over him.

“You seem to be in a bit of a bind. I’m a doctor, would you like some help?”

Peter looks at this boy, the one Derek had grumbled about at dinner earlier this week. He crouches down, placing a hand on his arm to subtly draw away some of the pain. Derek had gone on at length about how irritating it was to finally meet a person whose thoughts he couldn’t read, only to realize that person never shuts up anyway.

Derek had failed to mention how beautiful he was. Too bad Peter was going to have to gaslight him. 

Stiles stares at him, mouth hanging open as the blood momentarily tries to redirect from his new injury to his dick, before suddenly looking furious. 

“You are in your early thirties AT THE MOST,” he says accusingly. “For you to have gone through medical school AND residency, complete the qualifications to become a single foster parent and then ALSO complete the adoption process for FIVE KIDS would be ABSURD.”

“… I can see your tibia.”

And then Stiles passes out. 

Peter may or may not add a touch of rohypnol to Stiles’ IV drip at the hospital. Just enough blur the memories a little, so that he might start to question himself and back off of the family. 

Did u kno that certain ADHD drugs reduce the effectiveness of benzos? Cause Peter’s about to be reminded. 

A week later, Peter opens his front door to see Stiles leaning on his crutches, leg in cast, already talking before the door is even all the way open. 

“-to say thanks again for getting me to the hospital and fixing my leg and thanks for giving me and Derek a place to work on our chemis…” his voice fades away as he watches the sheriff pull away from the house, and then turns to face Peter again. 

“All right fucker, what the hell were you doing to my arm before I passed out, huh? Were you laying your alien egg babies in me??”

Peter’s mind is working so hard to turn that into something that makes sense, that he doesn’t stop Stiles from crutching his way past him into the house. 

By the time Peter catches up with him, he’s in the middle of the living room looking around. Erica, Allison, and Lydia are sitting on the couches, tensed and clearly ready to attack, Derek and Boyd poised at the top of the stairs and ready to jump down at any moment. 

Stiles is looking around, eyes lingering here and there. His gaze passes over the lunar model on the mantle, the potted anise, and the lint brush hanging next to every door. 

“Oh fuck me, werewolves? Really?”

Peter can’t help his delighted smile. It’s not often that someone figures it out so quickly. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” he replies. 

“I was expecting weird genetic clones at least,” Stiles complains before plopping himself down on the couch next to Erica and carefully placing his leg on an ottoman. 

When Peter comes to sit down in the living room, everyone finally starts to relax a little, and it’s not long after that that everyone is showing off their favorite parts of being a werewolf. It’s not something they get to share often, so it doesn’t take much to get them talking. 

Stiles keeps coming over after that, but eventually he gets curious. 

“Why do you keep inviting me over?” Stiles asks. “I’m pretty sure I pose, like, a security risk or something right?”

“It annoys Derek to have you around. He can’t read your thoughts and it pisses him off,” Peter answers immediately. “That’s definitely worth a security risk.”

Stiles eyes him speculatively. 

“What about you?”

Peter smirks. 

“I don’t need to read your thoughts, Stiles,” Peter says, leaning into his space to whisper in his ear. 

“I already know what you’re thinking.”

Twisted soulmates

BIG Thank you to @iphoenixrising who let me babble on chat about this idea, and to @the-sky-is-a-lie who is an awesome sweetheart and read and edited this for me (THANK YOU!)

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Tim has three names on one wrist. His soulmates. Tim has one name on the other wrist. His nemesis.

…or are they?

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