and he's lifting her up which means i'm absolutely done here

Around the Fire

A super-late entry for Day 08 of Phanniemay, “Vacation.” 

“Halle Berry or J.Lo?”

Two voices, in unison. “Halle Berry.”

“Kristen Stewart or Emma Watson?”

“Emma Watson.”

“Scarlet Johansson or Gina Torres?”

“Gina Torres.”

“Morena Baccarin or Natalie Portman?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Geez, Tuck, running through the entire Firely cast?”

“Inara.” Danny and Danielle said. 

Tuck held up his hands in a ‘there you see?’ gesture. 

“I’ve got one.” All eyes went to Valerie, still tending their makeshift grill over the campfire. Looking up with a dangerous, knowing half-smile, she worded out slowly, “Paulina or Star?”

“Paulina,” Danielle replied without hesitation.

Stiff-shouldered and tensely still, Danny glanced warily at Sam. 

“It’s fine, Danny,” she assured him, lips quirked. 

Keep reading

Title: Metallic { Epilogue }

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Jumin Han x MC/Reader/You

a/n❗️ have fun reading, everyone!! this is Metallic’s Epilogue ~
Finale. | Epilogue.

Word Count: 3, 702.

Disclaimer❗️ this is told on Jumin’s Point of View.
Flashbacks are mentioned.

update mentions❗️
@the-sloth-woman ;; @yuri-luciel ;; @ell3nj0y ;; @yoruwasu ;; @jetblckcrow ;; @thewibblywobblyfamilybusiness ;; @brightandkawaii​ ;; @directorjumin​ ;; @ihavenotfallenyet​ ;; @a-rattling-skeleton​ ;;

❝Forgive me now cause I
Have been unfaithful
Don't ask me why cause I don't know

So many times I've tried
But was unable
But this heart belongs to you alone

Now I'm in our secret place
Alone in your embrace
Where all my wrongs have been erased
You have forgiven
All the promises and lies
All the times I compromise
All the times you were denied
You have forgiven❞

“Jumin. This is Sarah Choi.”
I heard my father say as a purplish red haired woman appeared right before me, eyes shining a gleam of nothing but trouble. Her lips quirked into an unimaginable smirk as she slowly unfolded her arms and slowly raised her hand to my level.

Has she no manners?
Couldn’t she see I was about to bite my food?

I am a perfectly mannered person. But I do assess who deserves my respect and those who do not. Clearly, this woman was not taught that it’s rude to interrupt someone who’s about to chew his meal. She does not deserve even my slightest gaze.

I continued on despite my father’s burning glare. I do see he does not approve my reaction. Is this Sarah Choi his new girlfriend again? Wasn’t he with someone called Choi as well? Does he fancy women who have that surname?

I heard him clear his throat as the woman’s hand dropped to her side. She didn’t seem pleased with what I did. I honestly don’t care. I continued to slice the steak in front of me and I noticed some red parts to which blood was still evident. I am apparently eating a medium rare cooked steak.
I told them that I do not like my food half done. I asked the waiter specifically to cook the meat in medium well. I should go talk to their chef about this failure.

“Don’t worry about it, Chairman Han. I’m sure Jumin’s only a tough nut to crack.” She giggled shamelessly as my father laughed at her own petty little comparison.
So, apparently, I am being compared to a nut.
Is she nuts?

I didn’t waste any effort to look at her as they both sat down to this four seater arranged dining table inside this 5 star restaurant my father and I loved which seemed to be made exclusive for the night. He called me earlier, wanting me to clear my evening schedule to have dinner with him. I had no qualms since I’m used to doing it with him on any given dates but it seems that we do not have the same idea of the events for the night.

First, this unknown woman.
Second, someone whom I deemed familiar arrived at the scene.
Isn’t she my father’s girlfriend last week?

Keep reading

(A continuation of this

“It’s interesting when you think about it. If there are supposed to be barriers keeping each world from interacting with each other, then how is it Santa is able to deliver presents to Destiny Islands?”

“Ephemer,” Skuld said through gritted teeth. “Perhaps you should continue this train of thought when we’re not about to get devoured by Heartless?”

She landed a flip, striking down three Shadows. She whipped her keyblade up in a block and grunted as a Soldier scraped its claws against the blade. She sidestepped with a cry of “Thundaga!”

Ephemer cast a barrier spell around himself. He watched the Heartless surrounding them disintegrate and walked up to Skuld with an appreciative whistle. “Nice casting, Skuld. I think you got the last of them.”

Skuld slapped Ephemer’s shoulder with her palm. “No thanks to you! Next time you wanna contemplate how the World works, save it for when we’re not in the middle of a fight!”

“I think best under duress!” Ephemer insisted, rubbing his shoulder. “…Also, you might wanna lift some weights. That was pretty weak.”

Skuld raised an eyebrow and whacked Ephemer with her fist.

“Ow!” He winced. His annoyance lasted a second before it turned into amusement. The frown on his face shifted into a grin. “Better.”  

She rolled her eyes. “I think those are the last of them in this area. We should head back.”

The two headed for Santa’s workshop. They traveled in comfortable silence before Ephemer spoke aloud: “Think Santa will give us, like, an early birds type of thing and give us our presents early?”

“I think that wouldn’t be fair, and we are absolutely not asking him.” Skuld said without looking at him.


Against her better judgment, Skuld peeked at Ephemer to see him pouting. A laugh burst from her lips-that quickly turned to a shudder.

Ephemer’s smile slipped off. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing, I-” Skuld’s teeth chattered. “Just got cold all of a sudden.”

“Fighting Heartless does tend to distract you from things like that.” Ephemer said, his arms and hands starting to quiver.

Skuld shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “C-Come on. The workshop isn’t too far.”

She started to walk when Ephemer held out his arm and stopped her. “Wait.”


Ephemer pulled his scarf off his neck. He handed it to her with a half-grimace-half-smile. “H-Here.”

She said, “N-No, t-that’s-that’s okay. I’m f-fine.”

“Just t-take it, would you?” Ephemer said teasingly. “Like you said, Santa’s workshop isn’t t-too f-far.”

“Ephemer, s-seriously-”

“’M not putting it back on,” he said. “O-One of us should get to wear it.”

“S-Stubborn weed,” Skuld wheezed out. She reached for the scarf, the tips of her fingers grazing Ephemer’s icy palm. Her fingers twitched. The back of her neck heated up as she wrapped the scarf around it.

“B-Better?” He asked.

Skuld blinked. “I-I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you without your scarf.”

He grinned. “I f-feel so naked.”

“D-Don’t put that mental image in my head.” She scrunched her nose in distaste, which faltered once she registered the feel of the scarf against her cheeks. “Huh, it’s softer than I thought.”

Ephemer grinned. “I’ve had it since I was little.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“My m-mom. Made it herself.”

“You’ve never talked about your parents before.” Skuld said curiously.

Ephemer ran his hand through his hair. “Not m-much to talk about. They, ah…I lost them when I was little.”

Skuld stopped walking. “They’re…dead?”

He pursed his lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s f-f-fine,” he said, shaking his head. “It d-doesn’t matter, anyway. It w-was a-a long time ago.”

“This scarf must mean a lot to you,” said Skuld.

“…Yeah, it does.” Ephemer smiled wistfully.

And yet he’d entrusted it to her. Warmth bubbled inside Skuld’s stomach, and she was glad for the scarf obscuring half her face. It did an excellent job hiding the blossoming red in her cheeks.


anonymous asked:

Can I request a scenario where all 13 boys discovering that their lover was a singer (of their favourite genre of music) by going to a concert without knowing their longer was going to perform?

[Mun] マリ: Dude, it’s like you read my mind! I’ve been thinking about a prompt like this for so long. I’m (unfortunately) going to have to divide it up though, otherwise the post will become way too long and I take only one family per request (for obvs reasons… look how long this is omg). Feel free to request the other families separately so that I don’t forget. Hope you like it! 💕

Also, please consider listening to the songs/watching the video I imagined for these prompts! They’re super rad. 


Ruki || Frank Sinatra - Fly Me to the Moon
Ruki curiously wandered into a local pub late at night, drawn in by the sound of jazzy music that could be perceived from almost a block away; trumpets, soft drums and bass, accompanied by a clear and almost angelic voice pitched slightly louder than the music. Upon walking in, to his pleasant surprise, Ruki found his lover standing on the stage, eyes closed, swaying gently behind an old-fashioned microphone as she sung Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon with every ounce of feeling and sensuality that she could possibly muster. She wore an elegant babydoll dress, its wide sleeves drifting on the air with her every move. It took her a while to notice Ruki, who leaned against the bar with a glass of red wine in hand and a cocky smile on his face, and her voice wobbled a little when she did, but she quickly regained herself and finished the song without missing a beat. After exiting the stage, she felt a hand gently pressing against the curve of her back, followed by a soft kiss to the cheek as she turned around to meet Ruki’s gaze. “Forgive me for overlooking these talents of yours,” he whispered, overcome with admiration as he held her firmly by her waist and pressed his lips tenderly to hers. “You have an astonishing voice, one that I would like to keep only to myself… I reckon I can make you even sing more beautifully when I take you home with me…”

Yuma || Blues Saraceno - The River
The cafe was extremely crowded; Yuma wat sat at the bar, quietly sipping a pint of Guiness as overheard snippets of conversations of the people around him. Suddenly, he felt a drum beat echoing through his body, followed by acoustic chords and a sweet voice that made everyone fall silent and turn around instantly. O my lord, take this soul, lay me at the bottom of the river… Leaning on the bar with a hand on his chin, Yuma tilted his head to face the stage on the other side of the room, and was greeted by his lover looking him dead in the eye as she sang almost too innocently. He had to blink a few times to make sure it was actually her, and frowned at her when she smirked in return, fully aware of the way she was enticing him with the look in her eyes and the subtle swaying of her hips. The devil has come to carry me home, lay me at the bottom… Yuma watched hungrily, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and biting his lip as he watched his lover throw her head back while the heavy sound of the electric guitars kicked in, tracing her exposed neck with those nimble hands of hers. He promptly stood up, making his way through the  sea of people towards the back of the cafe, where he practically dragged his lover off the stage when she had finished her set, angrily pushing her against the wall in a dark corner of the backstage area. He lifted her up and allowed her to wrap her legs around his waist, pushing his body as close to her as possible. “What the fuck do ya think you’re doing, Sow?” he growled, scowling at the satisfied look on her face. “Ya might be hot as hell when you’re moving about like that, but that doesn’t mean you should do it before all those guys, fuck…” 

Kou || BTS - FIRE (click here for the dance cover I had in mind)
The vampire stood backstage, a towel draped over his shoulders to catch his sweat, talking to his manager about the set he’d just finished with his idol group while the crew prepared the stage for the next act to perform. When they were all done, a group of girls dressed in pink-ish satin sportswear excitedly ran towards the stage with microphones in hand, one of whom deviously kissed his cheek as she passed him. Kou had not really been paying attention, and so he turned around to look at the girl. He was suddenly met with his lover’s eyes glancing back at him, winking as she made her way up the stairs while the music started building up in the background. Before Kou could call out her name in disbelief, he heard one of the girls yell bultaoreune! before the four of them broke out into dynamic, synchronised dancing, moving expertly to the strong beat of hip-hop. The manager nudged Kou’s shoulder. “Is that your…” he asked him tentatively. “Uh-huh…” Kou replied as he watched the girls, and particularly his girl, expertly moving about and singing at the same time. He was left flabbergasted, his mouth slightly agape. How had he never heard or seen her sing and dance around the house before if she did it that well? They performed a couple more well-known Korean pop songs before leaving the stage to a standing ovation from the crowd. Kou’s lover proudly trotted towards him, and he took the opportunity to pull her against his body, blatantly kissing her in front of the crew and the other performers. “My, my, M-Nekochan!” he chuckled. “The fact that you dance so well… you can bet your sweet little ass that you’re going to dance some more for me in private tonight.”

Azusa || AWOLNATION - Like People, Like Plastic
It was late at night and Azusa was on his way home with bags of groceries for the rest of the week. It was about a ten minute walk from the Mukami property to the nearest convenience store, which left Azusa no excuse but to go by foot. He turned a corner and he had nearly reached the town square when he heard a soft, familiar female voice singing. As curious as he was, he walked onto the square and neared the small crowd of people tapping their feet, clapping and bobbing their heads, some even singing along, as they stood around the presumed street artist. I stand alone and curse at the sky, I stand alone beside you… Upon coming closer, Azusa recognised the girl as his lover. Why was she standing there? She wasn’t standing there for people to throw some coins in her hat, was she? He joined the crowd and admired her with the others, not knowing exactly why she was there, but glad that she was; a shiver ran down his spine as she belted out perfectly clear note after note. I’ve never felt so alone in my life, baby, I stand alone beside you… The people clapped loudly and praised her when she wrapped up the song, to which she bowed humbly, and slowly started walking away. Eventually, it was just the two of them left, and she smiled shyly at Azusa before he took her into his arms, her guitar still hanging on her back, and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. “That was… very good…” he whispered. “I like it… keep on singing… but only for me…”

anonymous asked:

Hey! I know this is old but I have this question: what do you think the chapter 436 means? I'm talking about the scene where Ichigo is thinking about his moments of "pride" and then he thinks about Rukia. I know that there's a lot of essays about this, but I really like the way you analize things, so I wanted to know what do you think about this scene.

As far as I’m concerned, this is the definitive analysis of that moment. I really have nothing to add to it, because it covers it all relatively clearly.

I guess I can try, although I’m mostly reiterating and condensing: Rukia embodies Ichigo’s ideal of the Shinigami. She gave him the power to protect in Chapter 1, and she gave him the values to use that power with in Chapter 2 (it’s no coincidence it was called “Starter”). The post points out in exacting detail that she’s been the one to motivate him every time he’s strayed from the course, and he’s always been adamant that he considers himself to be, or is trying to be, a Shinigami.

The conclusion is pretty obvious: he’s always striving to match the example Rukia set for him, because she’s his savior. (Rukia, meanwhile, considers him to be hers, as can be seen when she considers Hitsugaya’s speech about how he changed things and elsewhere.) And this is really their dynamic: they provide one another with an upward spiral that continuously lifts each of them up, which they both believe in with absolute certainty.

To digress, this doesn’t overtly exist anywhere else in the series. We’re given plenty of examples of romantic love (Isshin and Masaki, Ryuuken and Kanae, Kaien and Miyako, and Byakuya and Hisana) but the important thing to note is these were all relationships of comfort. None of them inspired any of the participants to grow significantly stronger. 

Renji gets stronger to surpass Byakuya, out of a desire to make Rukia happy, but that desire had no real origin in Rukia herself. (And, frankly, he fails, even in the end.)

Chad and Orihime both resolve to get stronger to stand beside Ichigo, but those desires have no real origin in Ichigo himself. (And frankly, they repeatedly fail, particularly within the Lost Substitute Shinigami arc, as the article points out.) The strongest moment that Orihime has in this capacity stems from seeing Tatsuki get hurt by Numb Chandelier, and gaining her powers and  finding the resolve to use lethal force—the only time she does so.

Other examples exist, like Gin embarking upon revenge for Rangiku, which she never truly wanted anyway.

Ichigo and Rukia are the only characters who share this mutual-savior dynamic, which as is pointed out, is not really about saving but honoring and reciprocating what’s already been done. (I feel it prudent at this point to yet again point out that Ichigo and Rukia were, if not suicidal, then absolutely fatalistic when they met one another, and Renji, Chad, Orihime, Tatsuki, etc., had no impact upon that whatsoever.)

Ichigo and Rukia lift one another up from the very bottom to the very top, from the equivalent of depressed foot soldiers to the equivalent of among the strongest of the Captains.

No other set of characters achieves anything even remotely similar and the next greatest advance (Renji’s) is achieved through direct exposure to seeing the dynamic in action, i.e., watching Ichigo do what he himself could not.

This completely unique dynamic was, in my opinion, going to be instrumental in changing the status quo.

To digress a little farther, this is why IH and RR do, respectively, nothing and very little for me, personally. Orihime and Renji don’t really develop much in response to Ichigo and Rukia, and Ichigo and Rukia don’t develop at all in response to Orihime and Renji. I can see there being some comfort in RR, but not really in IH, for reasons I won’t go into here, but there is certainly nothing of drawing out the best in one another. It simply isn’t there.

To return to the point, Ichigo has modeled himself upon Rukia, which is why he’s so adrift without her, and why the notion of her—yes, his love for her—activates his Fullbring, which is merely a step on the way back to becoming a Shinigami again to him, so he might continue on her path, which is what he’s been craving during the time skip (and indeed, throughout the series).

Meanwhile, you might say that what Hitsugaya is later articulating to Rukia about how Ichigo changed Soul Society, is proof that he had begun to reform it in her image, with the values she had herself professed to him.

This is in large part why later events were such a travesty. We were supposed to see this vision, this ideal of what Shinigami could be, as embodied in Rukia and then Ichigo as well, become the standard reality. The old guard of the Gotei 13 with all their failings (e.g., Mayuri, Yamamoto, Kenpachi, yes, even Shunsui, Ukitake, etc.) were distortions of this ideal. (Don’t forget, to pick just one example, how quick Nanao was to suggest killing Chad.)

Anyway, I don’t know that I really answered the question that well other than to point at the essay, or that this is well-organized, but those are some of my thoughts on the matter.

Check Up

Summary: Original prompt that me and toomanytickles came up with together :3

Genre: Fluff


Daniel Howell-Lester?“ Called the receptionist.

Dan smiled and stood up, making his way through the door and looking up at the sign upon it.

‘Dr. P. H-Lester, Consultant & Practical Physician.’

Smiling to himself as he read his husbands name, he knocked on the door three  times.

“Come in if you’re my pain in the neck of a husband!” Phil called from inside.

Dan giggled and pushed the door open, entering to see Phil sat in his swivel chair, adorning a white doctors coat and a stethoscope around his neck. His glasses were balanced on the bridge of his nose and he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.

“Good Morning, Mr. Howell-Lester.” Phil said, smirking.

“How’s it going, Doc?” Dan giggled, taking a seat on the bed opposite his husbands desk.

“That’s Dr. Philip Michael Howell-Lester to you, boy…” Phil giggled, opening various data files on his computer and grabbing his clipboard and pen, spinning around on the chair and over to Dan’s bed.

“May I say you look particularly ravishing today, Sir?” Dan said, smirking flirtatiously.

“Why thank you, Daniel, you don’t look so bad yourself!” Phil giggled, bopping him on the nose. “Right then, I’ve got a few questions I need to ask you first…” He clicked his pen down and scrawled his details at the top of the page.

Dan swung his legs up onto the bed and whistled cheerily, making Phil smile as he wrote.

“Okay then, have you experienced any headaches, stomachaches, or cramps in the past month?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got this ache in my heart, but it goes away when my husband kisses me…” Dan smirked.

Phil rolled his eyes and giggled, ticking the ‘no’ box.

“Any blood in your stool or urine?”

“None except for my period.” Dan said as seriously as he could.

“Any trouble sleeping?”

“Only because my husband snores like a pig.” Dan giggled, earning himself a pout and a glare from Phil.

“And aches in your joints, back, or neck?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll try and get him to give me a massage when I get back home…” Dan said.

“Do you smoke, drink excessively, or abuse solvents or any other kind of drugs?”

“Yes, a man with a voice like Winnie the Pooh smokes 40 packs a day and deals all sorts down the alleyway.” Dan said, the sarcasm positively dripping in his voice.

“Any change in your appetite? Actually, no need to answer that one, you clear out the fridge every week as usual…”

“I can’t help that I have midnight cravings for Maltesers and carrot sticks!” Dan protested.

“And finally how active is your sex life?”

“Thriving and glorious.” Dan said, sighing wistfully, making Phil crack up with laughter.

“Can it, you,” he giggled, taking the stethoscope from around his neck and hooking it into his ears. “Pull your shirt down for me.”

Dan smirked and seductively pulled the collar of his t-shirt down, biting his lip and winking. Phil mocked fainting to the ground and rolled his eyes, grinning as he placed the freezing cold plate onto Dan’s chest.

“OH MY GOD,” Dan squealed. “THATS FREEZING- NO DON’T GO THER-AHHHHH!” He squeaked as Phil moved to the side of his ribs, laughing at his husband.

“It has to be cooled so I can get an accurate reading!” Phil giggled, moving to his other side and making him squeal again.

“STOOOOHOHOP!” Dan whined, giggling as Phil pulled away, moaning about how ‘immature’ and ‘sensitive’ he was.

“Right, open wide and say ‘ahh’!” Phil said, cupping Dan’s cheeks as he opened his mouth, looking around. He grabbed a tongue compressor (why such a fancy name for an ice lolly stick?) and peered down to the back of his throat.

“Ah-ah, wha ah uhh oo-in?” Dan mumbled with his jaw still open.

“Sorry, what was that again?” Phil asked.

“Ah k-ad wha ah uhh oo-in!” Dan said, a little louder.

“Hm, I can’t quite hear you!” Phil teased, removing the wooden stick and throwing it in the bin, peeling off the rubber gloves and tossing them as well, pulling on a fresh pair.

“Jesus, you’re not half cheeky!“ Dan exclaimed, giggling.

“Yeah, yeah,” Phil giggled, poking his nose and rolling up his coat sleeves. “I’m gonna need you to lift your shirt up so I can check your stomach for any tenderness.”

Dan’s face flushed and he giggled nervously as he lifted his shirt. It was a well-known fact by both himself and Phil that Dan was incredibly ticklish, his tummy being his worst spot.

Phil smirked as Dan nervously lifted his shirt up, bracing himself as Phil gently placed his hands over his stomach, lightly pressing down.

Dan squealed, his eyes squeezed shut with the effort of trying not to laugh, his nose scrunching up cutely.

“Hmm, nothing here, what about over here?” Phil said, giggling and moving to his lower abdomen, gently pressing and wiggling his fingers lightly.

Dan squealed, curling up and giggling, bringing his knees up to try to protect his tummy, squirming on the bed.

“Nohohoho! You’re doing this on purpohohohose!”

“Daniel! Don’t be such a difficult patient, especially when you get everything for free here because I’m just so nice!” Phil smirked, pushing Dan’s knees back down and lifting his shirt up, placing his hands directly beneath Dan’s bellybutton (an area where he was far too ticklish) and lightly pressed down, grinning.

Gasping, Dan clamped his hands over his mouth, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his dimple popping, trying desperately to contain himself.

“What’s wrong, Daniel, you seem in pain?” Phil asked, giggling and gently squeezing the little spot.

Dan squeaked, clamping his hands even tighter, trying to move away.

“Ah ah ah! I’m afraid you’ll have to sit still for me!” Phil said, pulling him back by the hips and going for it, lightly scratching his fingers under his navel.

Dan shrieked, immediately giggling and squirming, rolling over onto his side and curling into a little ball.

“PHIHIHIL! STAHAHAHAP!” He squealed, trying to pull his wrists away.

“I’m only feeling for any signs of infection!” Phil laughed, continuing and enjoying the grin on his husbands face.

“THIHIHIS IS UN-PROHOHOHOFESSIONAHAHAL!” Dan cried, unable to fight back as he was too busy laughing.

 “I never said I was one to be professional, perhaps we should seek a second opinion,” Phil giggled, pulling away to wheel over to the pager on his desk. “Hello? Doctor Pritchett? I’ve got a rather wriggly patient here who won’t sit still and I may need some assistance.” Phil let go of the button and turned to Dan, smirking and listening for a reply.

I’ll be down in a sec!” Came a crackling voice from the machine.

Dan blushed, groaning. He knew Phil had only done this because he knew Dan would be too embarrassed to giggle and crack in front of another Doctor, and he knew Phil would go out of his way to make sure exactly that would happen!

The soft clip-clopping of high-heels could be heard from outside the door, gradually getting louder until eventually, there was a soft knock.

“Come in!” Phil said, smirking cheekily.

Through the door entered a tall-ish woman with strikingly red hair cut into a sharp bob. Her lips stained red and her eyes stinging with every glance.

Dan gulped.

“Doctor Lester, you called?” She asked, in a surprisingly soft tone of voice, a little grin tugging at her lips.

“I have a patient here, and I’m performing a physical examination, but he refuses to sit still whenever I press into his stomach. I don’t know if he’s in pain, or perhaps the common term ‘ticklish’.” Phil said, smirking.

“Hm, very common with the younger patients is that they cannot sit still long enough, perhaps I should take a look?” She suggested, smiling wickedly.

Dan shook his head wildly at Phil, whom watched him in amusement.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Doctor Pritchett.” Phil said, unable to hold back a mischievous smile.

She smiled deviously, which only served to unsettle Dan even more, as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and stepped forward.

“Lift your shirt for me, Daniel.” She said, grinning sweetly.

“H-how do you know my name?” Dan asked, hesitantly lifting his shirt up.

“I believe Doctor Lester is your husband, hm?” She said with a soft smile. “He’s told me all about you.”

Dan shot a glare at Phil, but his attention was soon averted back to Doctor Pritchett as she started pressing into his tummy.

Biting his lip and scrunching his eyes up, a giggle or two slipping out, Dan resisted the urge to curl up.

“Hm, Daniel? Are you in pain?” She asked, smirking as Phil cracked up with silent laughter in the background.

“N-nohoho!” He squeaked, a little smile on his face.

“You sure?” She asked, moving to the same spot Phil had previously attacked.

Dan squealed loudly, curling in on himself. “Nohohoho! Stahahahp!” He giggled.

Doctor Pritchett giggled and pulled away. “He’s fine, Doctor. Lester, as you said- he’s very ticklish.” She giggled, peeling her gloves off.

“Thank you Doctor!” Phil giggled, rolling back over to Dan as she left the room, looking down at him and smirking softly.

“Jerkface.” Dan pouted, pulling his shirt down as far as it would go.

“Oh, come off it, I know you love it.” Phil giggled, wriggling a finger under his chin and grabbing his clipboard.

Dan squeaked softly and giggled, sitting up and poking Phil’s shoulder.

“I hate you.” He said, not meaning it truthfully.

“Love you too, Daniel, now leave.” Phil giggled, pointing to the door.

Dan rolled his eyes and giggled, shuffling to the door, feeling a little slap on his butt and squeaking, scowling and ruffling Phil’s hair up before walking out.


I can explain, I promise.

I know I’ve been gone for ages, and I’m so incredibly sorry.

This isn’t the fic you asked for, but it’s something I suppose.

I feel like a complete and utter failure, I can’t apologise enough for any of this, I just hope you guys understand.


anonymous asked:

(This is an open prompt, if anyone wants to do it please do, I'll probably send this to a few other people)Hi! Could you write one where Amelia is on her period and has really bad cramps or is really cranky and Owen is being all awkward and adorable, or something like that? I mean do whatever you want with it, that was just my general idea but I'm happy for changes and what not. Thank you! :)

so gl211 wrote a really really good story which follows this prompt and i don’t think anyone could ever top it. This is my (failed) attempt at trying to be second best. 

Amelia was tired and in absolute pain. All she wanted to do was run back home and sit in a fetal position until her uterus stopped trying to kill her. She handled the pain pretty well on the other days but the first one was always the worst.

The first day of her period was marked with a big red ‘X’ on Amelia’s calendar every month and she knew better than trying to do anything productive, or anything at all, when that day came. Just like she did every month, Amelia had warned Webber, who was temporarily Chief, that she would be leaving the hospital earlier, and she had bought some extra-long pads, a tub of her favorite ice-cream, a crap load of junk food and enough hot chocolate to last a year.

So here she was, lying on the couch and groaning in pain every time she felt a stabbing ache on the side of her stomach. Amelia had managed to kick Maggie out of the house, convincing her that staying at her boyfriend’s house was a great idea and Meredith knew better than to be at home when all Amelia felt like doing was running upstairs and grabbing the sledgehammer she had kept hidden in her closet in case she felt like bashing a wall. Amelia snuggled on her couch under the warmest blanket she had managed to dig out, wearing her least favorite underwear (she had a feeling that it had been black back when she bought it but was now an annoyingly inconsistent grey from the number of times she was forced to wash it because of the stains that always managed to pop out of nowhere), no bra and a pair of sweats. She tried to keep her mind occupied by watching The Last Song but the pain in her lower stomach, which demanded to be felt, made Amelia feel sick.

She wanted hot chocolate but that required moving and she was perfectly comfortable in her spot for once, so she quickly dismissed the little bugging craving and sighed, pulling the blanket closer to her neck. It had taken a good three hours to find a perfect position and she wasn’t going to move for a cup of hot chocolate. 

Except that now she had to move because someone was knocking on her door; someone who very soon wasn’t going to have any limbs to bang on her door with. Amelia was ready to walk upstairs and greet this person with her sledgehammer in hand.

Groaning and cursing under her breath, Amelia shrugged off her blanket and got up without bothering to pause the movie. The banging continued, and she literally growled, wrenching the door open with a blood freezing ‘WHAT?’.

In front of her stood a very concerned looking ginger with furrowed eyebrows and a little fear evident in his eyes. Owen truly didn’t know what she was doing before he decided to come, but he did know his timing was horrible.

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mad-madam-m  asked:

I want the sheriff and Melissa but I'm having trouble coming up with a prompt. Something like a Valentine's date going wrong? Or maybe Agent Asshole shows up to try to woo Melissa back and John is just like "ah shit"? Or maybe they're on a date and they keep seeing Scott and Stiles, because their kids are absolutely terrible at being stealthy, and I have a headcanon that Scott and Stiles have been trying to get their parents together for YEARS. Anyway, you choose! :-)

Or how about all of the above? Here it goes.

Really, this night has been years in the making. The Sheriff has been gearing up the nerve to ask Melissa McCall out on a date for some time now, and this year is as good a time as any. 

Valentine’s Day is at the end of the week and he double checked that Melissa had the night off (she does), and that he had the night off, and so he asks her the week before if she’d like to go to dinner with him on that night. She gives him an enthusiastic yes, and they agree on the time the Sheriff will pick her up and part ways.

And the Sheriff is… dare he say it… giddy with excitement. He and Melissa have been flirting for several years now, and especially now that their sons are older and getting into trouble more and dealing with supernatural fiascos, they’ve ended up spending more time together. He’s so excited about his upcoming date that he makes the mistake of telling Stiles where he’s planning on taking her, which he realizes later he shouldn’t have done.

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Appreciating Your Spectacles

A/N: So this, is for a lovely friend’s birthday. Happy belated birthday Leina! Hope you like this! potting-lilies. Also: LOL at that title. Apologies.



She flopped down next to him, and proceeded to stuff her bag between her legs and the seat in front of her. As she bent over doing this, a long lock of dark red hair fell across James’ left thigh. He looked up from his book at the girl and gulped.She seemed like a stunner. Her hair was thick and wavy, falling perfectly over her shoulders. Her shirt had ridden up, exposing her bare back as she bent over. James stared at her creamy skin, transfixed slightly by the hint of red peaking out of her jeans, and the dip of her waist. He resisted the strong urge to run his hand over the expanse of her back.

James was jolted back to reality by a pointed cough. His eyes travelled slowly over the woman’s body to her face, only to find her staring directly at him. She raised her eyebrows questioningly at him, and inclined her head, expecting him to justify his staring.

“ have a very nice back.” James cleared his throat. Her gaze was unwavering, her green eyes piercing him.

“I have a nice back?”

 She arched an eyebrow higher.

“Apparently?” James winced. He chewed his bottom lip and tore his eyes away from her face.

He stared resolutely at his book, his mind not reading the words on the page, instead focusing on the attractive lady next to him, who still had him fixed under her gaze. He glanced up over his glasses to find her still watching him, but a small satisfied smile enhancing her beautiful features. He moved his head up and cocked his head, his cocky confidence rushing back.

“Like what you see?” he pulled out his trademark smirk for her.

She jumped slightly, stunned at being caught in her act of staring.

“I have no idea what you mean.” She said, leaning back in her seat just as the stewardess announced that they were about to take off.

James scoffed. “Sure you don’t.  You were totally checking me out.”

The lady gaped at him. “I was NOT. You are such a hypocrite. As if you weren’t checking me out earlier?”

“Ahh. I  most certainly was. So you admit then, that you were, in fact, checking me out?” He took a chance and prodded at her side with her finger.

She blushed heavily and fastened her seatbelt. “I was merely… appreciating…your spectacles.”

James laughed out loud. “My spectacles happen to be on my face, not on my chest, where you were obviously staring. That was the worst excuse I think I’ve ever heard.” He laughed again, enjoying the verbal sparring with the gorgeous stranger.

She made a face at him. “That’s the worst excuse you’ve heard? PLEASE. How about ‘you have a very nice back’? That pretty much takes the cake for me.” She laughed too, and James decided he liked the tinkle of her happiness.

She reached over and grabbed the book from James’ lap as they soared over the seas.

“Hey! Specky, you can’t just take…”

She pressed a hand to his lips and held up his book. She parted her soft lips to say something but closed them again, a confused look passing over her face.

“Did you just call me Specky?”

“Mmm. Yesh?” James murmured against her fingers. She dropped her hand. “You know, the spectacle admirer and all? Plus I don’t know your name.”

She looked at him, torn between amusement and exasperation. “You could just ask me my name you know?”

James ran a hand through his messy hair. “Nah. I don’t want to, Specky.” He flashed a lopsided grin at her.

“If you call me Specky, I’m going to call you Back-y.”

James lifted his arms in mock surrender. “Oh God no. I’ll stop calling you Specky, Red.”

She sighed and smiled widely at him, making his heart flutter. “Whatever James.”

James jumped. “How’d you know my name?”

She smirked at him. “I’m a genius.”

“I don’t doubt it. C’mon. Tell me how you knew!” He shoved her lightly, looking for any excuse to touch her.

The lady waggled her eyebrows at him before holding up his book.  “Prat. You wrote it on your book. Which happens to be one of my favourite books of all time.”

 “That’s pretty smart. I’m not surprised. It’s one of the best books to date. So, what’s your name then? You know mine, I think it’s only fair that I should know yours.” James said extending a hand to the redhead.

She grinned back and took his hand. “Lily. I’m Lily.”

They held hands a little too long and stared a little too hard and smiled a little too hard for a platonic friendship to blossom.


People swarmed around them as they stood in the airport, luggage at their feet. Many moments passed in silence, just both of them, looking at the other while the crowd of people busied around them.

James reached forward to grasp Lily’s hand. She squeezed back lightly. He smiled down at her. “It was really nice. Meeting you, I  mean. Best flight ever.”

Lily closed the gap between them and looked up at James. “Definitely best flight ever.”

A beat passed and James lowered his head and brought his lips against Lily’s, his hands finding Lily’s waist, lifting her slightly into the kiss. She reached up to grab his shoulders, steadying herself.

His mouth was warm against hers and the warmth seemed to spread throughout both their bodies as they pressed against each other, desperate for more. Everything seemed to blur except the two of them, there was only James scent of strong coffee, and Lily’s taste of soft vanilla. Her feet almost off the ground, Lily threaded her fingers through James’ hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

Minutes later, they broke apart, releasing each other and taking several steps back, flushed and dazed.

James heard someone yell his name, and he turned. His friends came at him from all different directions, jumping on him and grabbing him, yelling themselves hoarse as they tackled James. He grinned at greeted them, trying his best to entangle himself from the mass of their bodies. When he finally weaved out of their embrace, he started to the redhead, then stopped abruptly.

She was gone.


James was sprawled on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. He had dreamt about her. Again. Ever since the flight. Everyday since then, she had been in his thoughts, in his dreams, in his head.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head into the couch, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. It was closing down on two weeks and he had all but given up hope. He’d done everything in his capacity to find Lily. To find the captivating lady with the captivating smile that had somehow, in a matter of hours, managed to captivate him.

He felt like an idiot. He tried so hard to find her. He looked  her up on the net, tried the yellow pages, tried calling the airline, but he couldn’t find her. Hell. He didn’t even know her last name. He fucking didn’t know her last name! James fisted his hands in the couch cushions and berated himself.  How could he not have asked? They talked about everything and he felt like he knew her so well, but he didn’t. He barely knew her. He didn’t know her name, he didn’t know where she was from or where she lived, he didn’t know her. And yet, he longed for her.

He longed to feel her lips against his, firm and soft. He longed to feel her arms around him, strong and confident. He longed for her smile, her laugh, her quick comebacks.The ache in his chest grew with every passing thought, and every breath he took.

He longed for her.

James lay there for a long time, not even bothering when the doorbell rang. He had no time for Sirius right now. He loved the bugger, but all he wanted to do was think of Lily. Lily, and nothing else. The bell rang again.

And again.

Frustrated at Sirius’ persistence, he swung his legs off the couch, and marched to the door, throwing it open with a bang. His mouth open to yell at his best mate, he froze.

A redhead stood there, her beautiful hair framing her even more beautiful face. Her emerald eyes shone with happiness and relief as she looked up at him, the hands she was twisting together nervously dropped to her side. She smiled at him, absolutely radiant.

It was her. She was here. At his door. On his doorstep. 

She. Her. Lily.

He kissed her.


A/N: :/ I really hope you liked it Leina! Thanks for reading everyone! xx


Everyone has probably seen these photos by now, but here have my rambling thoughts on them and the upcoming wedding:

- First off, that dress is gorgeous. I thought they’d go the traditional white wedding dress route, seeing as we only have Ada and Freddie’s wedding to refer back to, but I actually do love this dress. I’m not a huge fan of the heavy purple veil but I understand that the mystery over Tommy’s wife for some reason still needs to be maintained (even though we all know that it is Grace). Still, the dress is absolutely beautiful and Annabelle is wearing the hell out of it, much like she does pretty much anything. I’m way too eager to watch the actual ep and see the moment her veil is lifted and her face is revealed and her and Tommy smile at each other and exchange vows!

- The purple and white bouquet she’s carrying is beautiful too, and I love that Tommy and Arthur’s boutonnière’s match the white flowers in Grace’s bouquet. Best bridal party ever! Also, I love that Arthur is Tommy’s best man #shelbybrothersfeels

-  Fun fact - if you zoom in, you can see some light hairs escaping the veil ;)

-  Also, the mere fact that the bride is being walked down the aisle by, according to both Reddit and the Peaky Blinders tag on here, a member of the Irish Guard is so very telling, and a sneaky way for the BBC to tell us her identity without completely destroying the mystery. At first, I was like oh okay Grace is being walked down the aisle by an Irish Guard because she’s Irish, that makes sense, good one BBC #graceshelby

- Now, I’m kicking myself because although her father (and brother? I don’t really remember the specifics, whoops sorry Grace) is dead, that doesn’t mean every single male relative Grace has are also dead. And not only the man a member of the Irish Guard (which, seeing as Grace’s father was a member of the police further shows us Grace’s police/military family history) and thus Irish just like Grace, he’s also blond. Who does Tommy love that is both Irish and blonde, just like the man (relative) giving her away? Five letters, starts with G.

- Tommy, you couldn’t manage to crack a smile? It’s your freaking wedding day! Just kidding, love you.

- Arthur’s wearing a wedding ring, which means either two years have passed since the s2 finale – which, makes no sense because there’s no way Tommy would not be marrying Grace ASAP, seeing as she’s carrying his child, even if her husband did present a massive problem in terms of getting the divorce. Although I’m certain that there is no way Grace’s husband won’t grant her a divorce as soon as he finds out she’s in love with another man and carrying that other man’s child, a little bit of roughing up thanks to the Peaky Blinders would’ve sorted him out ;) – or, which is probably more likely to occur, he’s gone and gotten married before Tommy can, which saddens me a little because I would have liked to see him and his wife interacting before she magically is introduced as Arthur’s wife. Oh well. At least this bodes well for a happier Arthur.

- Grace isn’t showing yet here, so either Tommy put all his effort into securing a divorce quickly and having this wedding before she does start to show, or the cut of her dress/her veil/her bouquet is obscuring any bump. Or, maybe the BBC simply didn’t get a fake bump at all, seeing as we’ve probably only going to see the wedding and then have a two year jump like usual.

These photos have done nothing but fan my enthusiasm for May 5th to hurry the hell up so I can watch Tommy and Grace become Mr. and Mrs. Shelby at last.

Flare 5

The blistering pace continues! amatterofcomplication says this part is a go, so here you go… and here is the lowdown on this part: less Dickens, but more Amanda. It’s all about the tradeoffs, people. Previouslies: see masterpost, pointing to all kinds of things, including part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4. Edit: Anon noted that I had clearly drawn for background on the NYT article “Baptism by FIre” by N.R. Kleinfeld, and that is indeed one of the sources I consulted for info re firefighters, so: yes, you are correct, and good catch.

Flare 5

You never forget your first fire, they always say.

Myka’s first fire, her first real fire, not just some ten-minute food-on-stove in-and-out, was in an old Victorian house that had been chopped up into apartments. Too much electricity trying to push through too many knobs and tubes, too many fuses that hadn’t been looked at in too many years, and suddenly there were too many flames and too much smoke and not nearly enough ways to get out. Myka was a probie, she was the can man, but a fire extinguisher, in that fire, was an ice pick against a glacier. Most of the residents had run out when they smelled the smoke, but there had still been a few unaccounted for; that was why her ladder team, plus another, were sent in. She’d masked up—terrified that the seal wasn’t airtight—and gone, crawling through the smoke, keeping one hand on the wall as she’d been taught to do, trying to stay oriented when she could see next to nothing, trying to feel for doors, people, furniture. Beds. Cribs.

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