Cap and Tony start off fairly harmonious because they respect each other’s place. Cap runs the team, Tony finances and designs everything and they both have their own stuff going on as well. But their alliance, which is based on the idea that they recognize their differences and their different skill sets, is going to be put to the test seconds in, and it’s going to be Tony who does it. Literally the first word out of Cap’s mouth is admonishing Tony. It’s just who they are and what’s fun about that is, it’s fun to watch those guys go head to head and because they are so different. Watching them become a team again is very exhilarating and their moments at the end are among my favorites because, when Cap finally explains what he’s been going through and who he is and how he understands his life, he does it to Tony, and that’s probably the only person he would (do it to) and that’s an interesting relationship)
—  Joss Whedon explain the working relationship between Captain America and Tony Stark in Avengers Age of ultron ( F Magazine)

Mulder stands behind Scully as they both stand at home plate. While Scully holds the grip of a large bat (the one with which DD had earlier been practicing) with both hands as though readying to swing, Mulder lightly admonishes her about her grip (and something else I was unable to make out). As he does so he simultaneously leans down and over her, proceeds to bring his arms around her—completely enveloping her in his embrace—, and places the palms of either of his large hands at the outside of either of her much smaller ones at the bat’s grip. He begins to swing the bat—and her in his embrace—over and over as balls are pitched to them.

Rarely has the disparity in their heights and sizes been more evident than in the execution of this scene. DD is tall (as I’ve said before, he is definitely taller than 6’ or I have definitely shrunken to shorter than… nevermind) but does not look in the least bulky until he leans over and literally wraps himself around the diminutive GA in this scene. Towering over her, he practically absorbs her—even in her stacked-heel boots— as his arms enfold her to show her how to hold and swing the bat. She was fairly invisible except for her legs when I viewed one of the takes from directly behind them. Another point of fact is that they are as spooned as two individuals of such disparate heights can be and maintain plausible denial that they are congenitally conjoined (!)
Whether for our amusement or his own or, more likely, ensuring choice cuts for the crew’s private blooper tape, I cannot say, but, at *least* once, immediately after the “ROLLING” shout, David took advantage of having Gillian trapped “within” him, as it were, and —sorry, folks, no other way to describe it— busted a positively lewd move on her —wriggling and well…, uh…thrusting “himself” into her. Several of us who spotted it (primarily the two of us with bionic-binocs that zoomed the couple into our eyelashes— and we were all pretty close to begin with) gaped at each other and gasped in astonishment — “… did you see what he did???”— . As for Anderson, the way her giggling carries, there was no inferring that she was in any way offended. She never once insisted that filming stop and it didn’t until “CUT” was shouted by Director Duchovny when he decided it was time to get down to business.
Needless to say that this …uh, maneuver on DD’s part is unlikely to show up on screen.

Again and again, with the cameras rolling, Mulder and Scully, very snugly spooned together, swing at pitch after pitch. They both laugh, Scully quite delightedly, as they complete each swing of the bat as Mulder rights her each time preventing her bounding and plunging to the ground. (Seriously, a few times she appeared very nearly airborne were it not for his embrace.) It is a very playful, affectionate moment between them. [x]

Filming “The Unnatural” (6*19)

harrysrich asked:

I have amnesia and you say you’re my best friend but I keep on forgetting and thinking we’re lovers au; Narry :))

When Harry comes to, it’s to the distant sound of machines buzzing and beeping, and the whisper of someone talking beside him. He blinks a few times, trying to clear his blurry vision and he lets out a noise so someone knows he’s awake.


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Do not look for the faults of your friend. Do not repeat the shortcomings of your neighbors in your talk. You are not the judge of creation. You do not have dominion over the earth. If you love righteousness, admonish your soul and yourself. Be the judge of your own sins, and chastise your own transgressions.
—  St. Ephrem the Syrian, A Year with the Church Fathers
Between Heaven and Hell

Part two of my three part fic set in my angel/demon BH&H ‘verse.

Part One is here, this is a prequel of sorts to the main fic, about Emma’s insistence on not seeing or speaking with Killian during the forty days of Lent, and a little Easter gift for my followers.

Not on yet, I’m going to post it there later.

Part II - Locked out of Heaven

Ash Wednesday

He woke up the next morning in a foul mood.

Why did she have to do this every fucking year?

It was Ash Wednesday, the day when the devout would sport the symbol of their faith on the foreheads. They would be lining up already in churches across the city to receive the mark, the cross traced with the ashes of palms, bestowed upon them with the admonishment, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” or more simply, “Repent, and believe in the Gospel.”

“Don’t try to contact me, Killian. Please.”

He lifted his phone from the nightstand and checked for any message from Emma. Even though he didn’t actually expect one, he still felt a flicker of disappointment when he didn’t see her name. For the next forty days there would be no calls, no texts, no contact of any kind from her. While he loved modern technology and embraced it wholeheartedly, unlike some of his kind, it had turned into a double-edged sword. They could never see each other as often as they wanted to, but they could talk and send messages and he had become used to the instant communication with her. But it only made the silence more deafening, during the six weeks of Lent when his angel was so close yet was as unreachable as if she had gone to the one place where he couldn’t follow.

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Jonnor play fight that ends up in lots of kisses and cuddles!!!1!!!!!!!

“What’s the answer for number five?” Connor asks urgently, chewing his lip and elbowing Jude in the stomach. They’re sitting on the floor, leaning back against Jude’s bed and doing homework.

“Don’t nudge me! You’re elbows are really pointy!” Jude chastises, elbowing him in return.

“You can’t tell me not to do something and then do it!” Connor admonishes back, elbowing him again.

“Just stop it!” Jude yelps, laughing and smacking at Connor’s forearm.

Connor shoves his books off of his lap and drops his pens, but Jude’s already up on his feet ready to sprint away.

Unfortunately for him, there isn’t exactly a lot of space to run and he can’t avoid Connor’s grasp, even as he darts around the room, trying to get away. Jude has barely wrapped his fingers around the door-handle when Connor gently tackles him to the ground.

Jude’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he breathlessly curses Connor’s love of sports, and all the extra pounds of muscle that he has on him. Then he takes that back, because there’s nothing wrong with a little muscle. Especially not when it’s so nice to look at. But it means that he’s hardly ever able to pin Connor to the ground – and even when he is able to, he has a sneaking suspicion that Connor is going easy on him.

Connor adjusts his grip on Jude’s hands, tangling their fingers together as he moves lower and lower, his lips getting closer and closer–

“Hey! No making out in my room,” comes Jesus’ voice from the doorway, startling Connor.

“Our room,” Jude mutters, getting to his feet, and pulling Connor up with him. He isn’t even surprised that Jesus ruined the moment. He does that a lot.

“You guys had better not have been grinding on our floor, either,” Jesus warns.

Jude’s mouth drops open in shock.

“We weren’t doing anything like that!” he protests, horrified. They hadn’t even been kissing! Yet.

But Jesus is no fool.

“I know what I saw,” he insists, raising his eyebrows knowingly (and somewhat judgmentally, if we’re being honest).

“What are you talking about Jesus? You didn’t see anything!” Jude cries indignantly.

Sadly this is not Madagascar, and Jude is not a penguin. Jesus knows how teenage boys think, he’d been one, after all (he still is one, actually. But he doesn’t like to think about that. He could pass for twenty, right? Or maybe… twenty-one? He hopes so, because he likes the perks that come with looking twenty-one).

“I saw what I saw,” Jesus retorts, before throwing himself down on his bed. “Now go. Before I yell about you guys getting frisky on the floor and everyone in the house hears,” he threatens.

Jude closes his eyes, willing himself not to throw something at Jesus’ annoying head. Again. He grabs Connor’s hand and pulls him out of the room, before he can give in to his murderous thoughts.

What does he have to do for a little privacy around here?

They relocate to the sitting room, settling down on the couch, and Jude swings his legs over to rest across Connor’s. Connor leans in to taste Jude’s smile, but after the first brush of their lips, Jude hears someone clearing their throat.

He turns and sees Mariana and Mat, standing hand in hand in the doorway. All he does is raise his eyebrows questioningly. When they don’t get the picture, his eyes narrow and Connor can see the glare beginning to emerge.

“Okay, okay, we’re going, we’re going,” Mariana mutters, raising her hand in surrender, as she tugs Mat away, out past the kitchen. Jude turns back to his boyfriend to continue where they left off.

They were here first.

This is for the downtrodden

Killian Jones and Emma Swan going to prom together? Not in this lifetime!
Punk!Killian  (AO3)

Rated: T (good bit of swearing and use of a gay slur)

Robin keeps bothering him andtelling him he will give him his limited release Clash record if he will just go over to Emma Swan’s table and ask her to prom. Killian’s first thought is “no way in hell,” but then he thinks for a moment and remembers how much he really wants that album and how many times he has thought about giving up his friendship with Robin just so he could steal the record from his house. Of course, because Killian is Killian and the brother of one Liam Jones who has brought him up with good form and to be a man of honor, he always throws that idea out the window and admonishes himself for thinking about giving up one of his two best friends for a record. The other friend being Tink, who, on occasion, pretends to be his girlfriend at the punk concerts the three of them like going to. He has not really been interested in dating anyone since he met Milah, and he really has never known how to talk to girls, so Tink helps out if a girl ever approaches him.

Milah was the one who did most of the conversing in the beginning of their relationship, her being eighteen and him sixteen, until he got comfortable with the fact that she wanted anything to do with him. His drunken, deadbeat dad had just left a few months earlier, left him and Liam with little to nothing but the house and the boat they inherited from their mother that sat in the driveway most of the time anyways. Milah started off as a distraction from his life that was in utter disarray but as the relationship progressed he realized he was completely in love with her. Ya, he knew they weren’t supposed to be together, that it wasn’t really legal, but he didn’t care about the numbers when he knew how much they loved each other. Which, come to find out, she actually didn’t. She didn’t actually love him. Not as much as he loved her. Not in the end. Not when he found her making out with an older guy at her birthday party. He had got so drunk that night, racing to the local grocery store and swiping the first bottle he could find (rum, of course) and drinking himself so drunk he forgot about the tears that were falling down his cheeks.

The next morning Killian woke up in a state between hungover and dead, with one word running through his mind: genetics. Of course that didn’t stop him from continuing drinking or stealing or fighting or participating in some rather stupid rebellious acts just to piss off Liam. Eventually Liam got fed up and brought out the big guns: the Jones family photo album. All it took was for him to see the last pages of the book, the pictures of his mom in the hospital and his dad nowhere to be found, for him to finally get his shit together.

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I wrote this for xxtwistedeverafterxx on her birthday! Happy birthday, dear! You’ve always been such a ‘warm and welcoming’ person and I hope that your birthday is as wonderful as you are.

This is based on that Florist/Tattoo Artist AU floating around the internet. If anyone knows the source of the original prompt, please message me and I will link back to it.


Gilbert leaned against the counter and scowled at the photograph of his grandfather.

“This is your fault, y'know,” he admonished. He could almost hear his grandfather laughing at him. “I don’t even know how to run a business. I know even less about flowers.”

Gilbert snorted and thumbed at his nose with bruised knuckles.

“Jackshit. I know jackshit.”

He pointed to the wooden buckets and woven baskets and the refrigerated case stretched across the flower shop.

“I haven’t a fucking clue.”

His younger brother was supposed to inherit the shop when their grandfather passed but Ludwig was still in college. He was the one with the passion and flare for arrangements. The demeanour.

Gilbert was the directionless, argumentative older brother. He picked fights, not flowers. He was the worst possible candidate for this.

But he wanted his brother to finish his degree. He could at least manage the shop for two years. Probably…

Gilbert sighed and turned to the cardboard boxes scattered around his feet. The shop was a little bare, a week after the funeral, but it was as warm and welcoming as he remembered it. The sunlight poured through imperfect, crooked windows. The hardwood was worn and warped.

It was comforting.

He used to complain about helping around the shop but, truthfully, he had always delighted in the floral wallpaper and polished oak counters.

He would never admit it, though.

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anonymous asked:

Salam, is having too much shyness bad?

Walaikum Assalaam,

Ibn ‘Umar (May Allah be pleased with them) reported:
Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) passed by a man of the Ansar who was admonishing his brother regarding shyness. Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “Leave him alone, for modesty is a part of Iman.”
[Al-Bukhari and Muslim].

 'Imran bin Husain (May Allah be pleased with them) reported:
Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “Shyness does not bring anything except good.”
[Al-Bukhari and Muslim].
In a narration of Muslim: Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “All of shyness is good.”

May Allah guide us to the straight path.