sherlock in a very bad sulk and laying on the couch curled in on himself with his phone clutched in one hand, reading so fast every text that comes in. john sat in his chair and seeing that it’s a worse sulk than usual, texts sherlock from across the room

Bzz Bzz

sherlock grabbing his phone so fast and reading the text, anticipating a case from lestrade. “hold your phone to your ear.” sherlock looking quizzically at his phone as it vibrates in his hand and another text comes in: “just do it.” so he does. john texts him 2 emojis and the phone buzzes in sherlock’s ear, Bzz Bzz, then he looks at the text

"🐝🐝"

and sherlock fights that hardest he has ever done not to give into the smile-into-giggles twitching at the corner of his lips. but the urge wins the fight and john puts a slice of toast with honey and a cup of sugary tea on the coffee table in front of him and ruffles sherlock’s hair, who is still chuckling at the screen of his phone

"Thank you. -SH"

frozenmusings said:

Heidi asking Krsitoff to braid her hair, when it's usually Anna who does it.

WC: 306

"Daaaaaaaaaaaddy!" 

Kristoff turned in his chair just in time to catch his six year old daughter jumping up into his lap. “Hey there.”

Shoving her little brush into his hand and turning so the back of her head was facing him, Heidi grinned. “Braids, please!”

"Heidi, why don’t you ask mommy?" He turned the small brush in his large hands, pressing nervously against the bristles. "She’s much better at it than daddy."

"Nope," the little girl snickered. "Mommy is sleeping. I wan’ you to do it!"

He groaned, reaching into the desk drawer to grab her little hair bands (because Anna had insisted that they keep them everywhere… Just in case), and handed them to his daughter. “Fine, baby. Hold these.”

The little redhead held the bands happily between her fingers and started humming as Kristoff began running the brush through her soft hair. He couldn’t help but smile - some parts of her were so like her mother.

After her hair was perfectly smooth (“Twenty brushes, daddy! Don’t forget!”), Kristoff placed the brush down beside him and began working with his large, clumsy fingers. He split it unevenly down the center, pushing the hair he wasn’t working with over her shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, baby."

After a few minutes, he had managed to form two messy plaits down the back of her head, and blushed furiously at just how awful they had turned out.

With a chuckle, he ran a hand down the back of her head. “Sorry, Heidi. You might want to ask mommy to redo them.”

She stuck her nose in the air with a proud smile. “Nope! Daddy did them, and that makes them perfect!”

Kristoff did his best to hide the goofy grin that was pulling at his cheeks as she skipped out of the room, sloppy braids bouncing on her shoulders.

Tazz Loved to hang out with his sister (Lola) but sometimes it was just too stressful to be around her and us, and he couldn’t get outside to get away.  So instead of running or finding some corner of the house (where he could be chased to) he would simply go lay down under a chair in the middle of our living room.  Unfortunately I don’t have a picture of him doing this, maybe on my parents’ computer, but he didn’t really fit.  He didn’t care if someone was in the chair or not, he would get under it.  Sometimes when he was fully grown the chair was balancing on his back, because he wanted to be under so badly. I always thought it was adorable and humorous that that was his only way away from Lola, and she knew better than to bother him when he was under his chair.  

scrapsandliquor replied to your post:[ u literally asked for this ] “So.” David drops to sit in a chair in front of Attinger’s desk, nearly missing the seat in his clearly drunken, wobbly state. “Harold. Harry. Attibitch.”

"Ehhhh," He squints and slouches in the chair, throwing his feet onto the man’s desk. "Dun’ care." He takes a swig out of bottle he’s carrying, then frowns. "Hey."

"David…" He sighs and debates grabbing the bottle from the other man, but decides it’s not worth the effort. He doesn’t want another shiner, it had just finished healing up too!

“Hey yourself..” He scoots his chair back a little, but he’s near a wall so there isn’t much space to turn and run.
A One Legged Race

HEY GUYS!

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I am finally, finally writing again! i had such bad writers block and ya know… life kinda is busy…

but i’m getting back into the swing of things… so here, have a youtubers hiccstrid drabble

random part one thats all about the twins with hiccstrid stuff at the end:

Our Daily Lives

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Day 50

For previous posts, click here.

I took Finnick’s laptop and he doesn’t know I’m writing this. I came into his room and he was sleeping and his laptop was at the foot of his bed so I opened it and all of his blog posts popped on the screen. I woke up really early today for some reason so I spent the last few hours sitting in the chair by his bed reading his posts and constantly checking on him while he sleeps. It sounds dumb, but he looks beautiful when he sleeps. His hair is curly and the small stream of sunlight coming from the space in the curtains makes his bronze hair shine and look golden. He looks younger too, like someone found the rewind button and turned him twelve again. Before the games. Before the pain. Before everything. He didn’t have the best life then either, but it was better than this. Anything is better than this.

I’m surprised it’s so easy to write. When I got the strange urge to write this morning I thought my words were going to come out all jumbled like my thoughts have been. But now that I’m sitting here, typing on Finnick’s laptop, the keys feel nice and soft on my fingers and the clicking calms me and the words just come easily. 

I’m afraid Finnick is going to wake up soon and I don’t want him to get angry with me. I’m going to figure out how to post this.

Thanks for reading.

Annie

Van Gogh's chair

Van Gogh’s famous yellow chair wasn’t just any chair…

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Van Gogh’s Chair (1888)

It was his favorite chair, the one he always sat on (not very still) during his long and sometimes stormy talks with the painter Gauguin, who had come to Arles for a visit. Van Gogh painted Gauguin’s chair too.

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Gauguin’s Chair by Van Gogh (1888)

The yellow one is Van Gogh happy–euphoric. The other one is Van Gogh very blue. Why?

Van Gogh had high hopes that he and Gauguin would start a community of artists, all painting happily together and discussing their art and the great issues of life. But they quarreled all the time and Gauguin decided that life with Van Gogh was impossible. Van Gogh wrote in a letter to a friend, all full of remorse for his bad behavior and already missing his friend Paul Gauguin:  “A few days before we parted, before illness forced me to enter a home, I tried to paint his empty chair.”

anonymous said:

Hello, this is the Overseer of Vault 3. I am contacting you because my um.... vault scientists has ordered 30 boxes of Psycho and other chems for um... research on such diseases and such. This order was placed not too long ago and i would hope my scientists have their supplies soon to do such beneficail experiments on plants and such. Did i mention my order of 30 boxes of psycho and other chems for research purposes did not come in? Thank you Very much

"The employee gets out of his chair to view recent recordings of of vault 3 to inspect any suspicious activity within the vault. He takes a quick glance and begins to laugh hysterically at the "creatures" asking for chems. the recent thought of chems put him into a sense of craving and he soon found out that he need a fix. He went into his desk and inhaled 8 doses of Jet." 

he replied to the request.

YOuuuuuu WHant> somE CHEEEEMMMSS, we gat a11 the FixeS in the worLD, HERE at vaULT TEC HE G:”OT /WONDERglUE and <-7 PAint and JET< LOTTTs OF VEt. YO wHant Jet??!”:>? WE Ghot JEt’//?? You se##3m Lik a NICE guy bcuase UUU ghat an !& NICCE  nNose, HerE ”l .Ill StriKe u A deal. U gIve Me SOME JEt, and I’ll giveU Guys someJet ANNNND sum Physo beCa8se: tha+%t stuffff S Week. DOnt M8Ke me go Over THre and gHet ><mAd bcuse I donT ?<Wanna bE Mad, Kapish???”>  

The first time John tells Sherlock he loves him, he does so without realizing it. He kisses the detective on his head like he does every time before he goes to work and he whispers the words when he pulls back to retrieve his coat. 

Sherlock freezes. It takes John a second to realize what he just said and it takes him even less time to know that he means the words. Sherlock still sits frozen in his chair, mouth opening and closing, when John smiles widely at him.  The doctor collects Sherlock in his arms and kisses him deeply.

John is spectacularly late that day. 

water-and-healing-master-kya said:

The 24 year old knocked on her Uncle Zuko's door. She would usually talk to Uncle Sokka about this but he was at the South Pole and Zuko was here visiting. "Uncle Zuko? Can I talk to you?"

Zuko heard the knock, and looked up from his work. He recognized Kya’s voice, and he turned his chair to the door.

"Come in!" He called out, leaning back in his chair

anonymous said:

omg early congratulations! this may be personal and I apologize in advance if it is but whats your story with ur feyonce? omg sorry if u dont wanna publish it out there but heh this kind of stuff is toooo cute ^^

Hehe no worries I love telling this story lol.

It all started in 6th grade. I had a class with this adorable little kid and I was so scared to talk to him. Anyways, one day he was leaning back in his chair and I told him he was going to fall out of it if he kept doing it. He said something along the lines of “pfft no I’m not.” So naturally I kicked his chair and he toppled over and got in trouble. Of course I laughed so hard and he looked so upset. Some how ever since that day we became best friends.
That summer he asked me out but being a little kid I had that initial “Ew no.” Response. As we got older I always knew he had a crush on me..Eventually our sophomore year of high school we tried the whole dating thing, but it failed. (Long story)
Senior year we tried again and as you can tell it worked out (:
About three month before he left for Boot camp we were siting outside and he pulled out a ring and told me not to freak out cause it was only a promise ring but as the months rolled past and we were staring right at his ship date, we were looking at my promise ring one afternoon
And we kinda just gave each other this look and we both knew and decided it’s all we both wanted and since we have been inseparable for 9 years we could not go 4 years barely seeing one another and decided it was worth it.

I cut out a lot of details but that’s the kinda long, not really short, but short story xD

yellowxhornet said:

Of course, after a long day, Reiner was eager to get back to his office for his well deserved lunch break. But greeting him at his door, was the pink haired young patrol officer. Her bracelet out, and the metal notch at the end, seeming to have a small magnetic pull towards his direction. "I'm gonna have to ask you to come in and take a seat..." she said with a maniacal smirk.

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"Why thank you for inviting me into my own office, Haruko." Reiner said sarcastically. He was a little leery of the odd girl but he just sat back in his chair, "I’ d like to thank ya’ for keeping relatively quiet on your business in town. I was worried you’d blow half this place up.”

Thankfully, there was enough wings for him to split it with her if she was as hungry as she always seemed to be— although, he had no idea how she handled her spice. Biting off a hunk of meat from one of the drumsticks, he settled himself in his chair with his ankles crossing over one another. ” Nothin’s really changed much, gotten bigger, but that was goin’ ‘ta happen eventually. ‘Ya still modelin’ like ‘ya used ta’? Gotta say, I kinda missed ‘ya bargin’ into my house like this demandin’ food.” 

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Just this one proper dance

This is a little Sherlolly fanfic I wrote during the holidays. It’s based on a prompt by Pocket Pavel. John and Mary’s wedding is in a month and Sherlock realised with a shock that the groom doesn’t know how to dance. In order to become a proper teacher, he asks Molly to show him to dance like a woman. So it’s not really balletlock, but waltzlock (does that even exist?).

“Finished”, he thought satisfied and pressed play. The sound of his violin rang through his living room. It sounded good. Perhaps a few alteration here and there. Quite pleased with himself, he settled down in his arm chair and checked his to do list for John and Mary’s wedding.

Wedding gift: done.

He was about to find the next task, after all he wanted the wedding to be nothing but perfect. His mind wandered to the waltz again. He imagined Mary and John dancing to it. Suddenly he was back on his feet. He had forgotten: John couldn’t dance! How could he have forgotten that? He was Sherlock after all. He had seen that John had no sense for dancing when they had to investigate in a dance club and he hadn’t even managed to imitate the easiest moves. Sherlock had laughed it off at that time and just pretended he didn’t know what to do either. He had never mentioned to John that he used to dance ballet professionally and occasionally traditional dances, but that John was incapable of neither was obvious. In less than a month was the wedding and the groom couldn’t dance. Why hadn’t Mary said anything? Oh, right, John wouldn’t have told her. He probably thought he could learn how to dance via YouTube or something. Something had to be done. Right now.

Sherlock was about to dial John’s number, when he remembered that he didn’t know how to make the women’s steps and if he wanted to teach John he had to pretend to be Mary. He considered this a moment. Which woman could he ask for help? Mary? No, it’s best she didn’t know about it. Never worry the bride. Mrs Hudson? No, she would make too many annoying comments. Molly, then. Actually she had been the first who had come to his mind, unconsciously she lingered in the back of his mind palace, but since he had found out that she was engaged, he had tried to keep his distance. Giving her a chance to forget him. Still he knew that she would help him, every time, always. She wouldn’t ask stupid questions, plus she was a dancer. Although she had decided against becoming a professional dancer, she had never stopped training. Molly went twice a week to dance class. With Tom, Sherlock asked himself and he tried to imagine how Tom would make a fool out of himself trying to keep up with Molly.

He wrote in his mobile:

Hi Molly,

I need your help with something.

Can I come over to your flat?

SH

He read the message and decided to edit it a little bit:

Hi Molly,

I need your help with something (related to John’s wedding)

Can I come over to your flat?

SH

The last time he had needed her, he had asked her to fake his death. It was better to not make her worried.

Her answer came just seconds later:

Hi Sherlock,

of course, I can help you:) Just come over.

Molly

Sherlock smiled and replied:

Is Tom currently at your home?

SH

Her response:

No, he is currently at work.

Molly

Sherlock was pleased and typed:

I’ll be at your place in 20 min.

SH

He kept his word. Twenty minutes later he stood in front of Molly’s door. She opened upon the first ring. She wore a green dress with a floral print and had her hair pulled up into a loose bun. She smiled and her smile reached her brown eyes.

“Hello, come right in”, she said. She had grown quite confident being around him. He liked that. “Hello, Molly. Thanks for your …time”, he said and stepped inside.

“So what’s the problem?” she asked right away because small-talk with Sherlock mostly ended up being awkward. He told her.

“Okay. You are right. That’s a serious problem. But I don’t know why you came to me of all people?”

“Oh,” Sherlock said, realising his mistake, “I deduced about you a long time ago that you are a professional dancer or used to be, but now you still take dance lessons twice a week.”

“Oh, right. That explains it, I guess”, said Molly, but she seemed doubtful about it. He could have asked a professional dancing instructor. Sherlock always had a reason for the things he did, so she didn’t question it. She didn’t even ask how it came that Sherlock knew to dance. He was Sherlock after all, he could do everything he wanted.

“So, with what dance shall we begin?” she asked instead.

“With the wedding waltz, I’d suggest.”

“Right. The guests will watch them dance. Okay, let me just look for the right music. I’ll be right back.” She turned around to her bed room, but Sherlock said: “I’ve already got the music here.”

He had connected his smartphone to her stereo boxes and pressed play. His violin began to play.

“Who composed this?” Molly asked, touched by the beauty of the music.

“I did”, he whispered, not wanting to disturb the magical atmosphere the music created.

Molly smiled and closed her eyes. “It’s so beautiful. Sherlock, you really can do amazing things.”

Sherlock didn’t know what to say. He simply stared at her. In that moment she was even more beautiful that the music that surrounded them. She glowed with joy. Throughout the whole waltz she hadn’t moved an inch. She had just stood there and listened. One small tear had escaped her eye. Sherlock hadn’t moved either, he had just watched her react to the music, his music. It made him quite proud that he could cause such emotional outburst when he was usually known for being unemotional and cold. The last note sounded and the room was filled with a sweet silence. Sherlock took a step forwards and without really thinking about it, he swept away the tear on Molly’s cheek. She smiled up to him. He realised this would have been the ideal moment to kiss her. But he didn’t. She was with Tom. She had moved on. They stood there for some minutes in silence.

It was Molly, who finally broke it: “John will be very moved by your wedding present. And I know your best man’s speech will be great, too.”

“Thanks”, Sherlock said, his voice sounded nothing like his usual voice.

“So, shall we begin?” asked Molly and went to replay the waltz composed by Sherlock.

“Yes”, he agreed.

“Okay, look, when the man makes a right step forwards, the woman makes a left step backwards, then the woman goes right and the man left and so on.”

Molly and Sherlock stood side by side and Sherlock imitated Molly’s movements.

“All right,” he said, “that’s quite easy. How about we dance together but with reversed roles?”

“Okay, that will be funny”, she laughed and stepped before him. For a moment they just stood awkwardly in front of each other, then Molly placed one hand on Sherlock’s back and held the other out for him. He took it and put his other hand on her arm.

“That’s hilarious!” laughed Molly, “I’m afraid you are too tall to be a woman.”

Sherlock laughed, too. “Oh, it’ll work. Mary will be taller than John in her wedding shoes.”

“Okay, right. So let’s begin. And remember Sherlock, I’m the one who’s leading this dance.”

Sherlock nodded and they began to dance. At first it worked quite well, Sherlock simply concentrated on Molly’s steps and fell into the rhythm of the music. But then the first rotation came and Sherlock forgot that he was supposed to be the woman. He held up his arm and Molly did the same. They looked at each other and busted out laughing.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” giggled Sherlock and ducked in order to rotate beneath Molly’s arm. But when they came back into the standard dancing position they somehow had swapped places.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” Molly asked, when she realised the mistake.

“I dance with you, Molly.”

“Yes, but you are in the wrong position. You are trying to do the woman’s steps, remember?”

“No, not now. John can wait. The wedding preparation can wait. One way or another he will manage. But right now, that doesn’t matter. Right now, all that matters is you and me.”

“Sherlock…”Molly started. This had taken quite a confusing turn.

“Just this one proper dance, Molly. Please?”

“Okay”, Molly said and took the proper position for a woman.

The waltz started again and they danced slowly, gracefully and in sync like they had waited for this particular dance for years.

You can find this fanfiction also on my AO3 account here and my other fanfictions here.

my neighbor’s quickly turning into my best friend

like i told him everything that’s been going on with the guy on my floor and he’s just like a really great listener and he told me that, if i thought i was happy, then i should continue what i was doing and if i thought that i was unhappy then i could just fill in the blank there for myself… and like he came in to my room  and he was like “are you still sad today” (and at the time i was) so he told me that the royal tenenbaums was his feel-good movie so he took me to his room and i got to like take a nap in his bed because he has one of those boyfriend pillows and he put on the royal tenenbaums because he has a nice tv and like he just sat in his desk chair and i definitely fell asleep (ngl i don’t like the movie very much)

also there was one time when i came back to the dorms drunk and i passed out on my friend’s bed and he like took off my shoes and socks and folded my socks for me

idk it’s just a really nice, genuine, platonic friendship and i love him so much already…

Title: Put your mouth to better use

Pairing: Megstiel

Rating: Mature

Word count: 992

Notes: I really don’t know why I get inspiration from the weirdest fucking things but this is daniqueeninabox’s fault for starting this shit and msdoomandgloom for encouraging it. It is crack, and it is bad, and the phrase ‘rusty bullet hole’ is used in here.

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3rd-year-idols said:

"Akiiiii, did something happen with Shio-chan? She was acting weird at work today." [Mariko]

In the midst of studying, his older sister enters the room with a rather concerned look on his face, which is soon answered by his question. What did she mean she was acting wierd at work today? Finishing up the last problem he was working on, he swivels around in his chair to face her.

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"What…do you mean? I don’t think…there’s anything wrong…weird how?"

awhile ago i wanted to make a comic with etihw and kcalb but i never really got around to it but

it was kcalb complaining about everyone calling him old because hey he is kindaimmortal and etihw joked that it was because of his hair and he pretty much went “fuck it, im gonna dye it black” and etihw laughed and said “but with all the black you wear, we’d turn off the lights and lose you!”

and he just kind of scoots his floaty chair so he’s facing away from etihw and has to sit like that for awhile

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