automatic winding

8

Film Meme [ 7 ] Directors
→ [ 5 ] Nicolas Winding Refn “Silence is cinema! We are so used to sounds. We’re always talked at. Silence is very rare for us for a long duration of time. It makes people very uncomfortable. But what it does, it also forces us to perceive on a much deeper level because we can no longer just be told things. Silence is like gold. It forces the audience to engage more, because they’re not being told what to think.”

anonymous asked:

jealous jihoon please! hehe~

(i’m gonna assume you want a one-shot type scenario here so)


Originally posted by winkhoonie

careful.

member: jihoon

rating: G


“Hey.”

“Hm?” You hum, eyes never leaving your phone screen. You can feel Jihoon coming up to stand behind you on the couch, his hands immediately resting on your shoulders.

“Can we talk?” Jihoon asks, thumbs gently kneading right where your shoulder blades are. You couldn’t help the small groan that escapes your lips as Jihoon continues to massage your shoulders.

“Sure,” you answer. “What’s up?” You look up at Jihoon and he looks back at you, all serious. His expression worries you a little, but you know Jihoon’s a sensible guy. You rarely fight because of this.

“I think Guanlin got a little too…handsy with you, don’t you think?” Jihoon says carefully, hands unmoving on your shoulders as he stares down at you. 

“Jihoon,” you start. “All he did was hug me. He hugs me all the time, but you didn’t seem to mind until now.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t have to run his hands up and down your back like that,” Jihoon pouts. For a moment, you find it adorable.

“Come here,” you say, tugging on Jihoon’s hand. Jihoon moves so he’s standing in front of you. You get up, your arms automatically winding around Jihoon’s neck. Jihoon rests his hands on your waist and buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’ll tell Guanlin to be careful next time, okay? But, don’t blame him, either. He probably didn’t mean anything by it,” You reassure Jihoon, playing with the hairs near his nape.

“Alright,” Jihoon mumbles against your skin, placing a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

youtube

Translation of the interview with Andi Wellinger in Willingen

(requested by @skijumping-stuff)


Dirk Thiele: Dear viewers of Avia tv, we say hello from the Sauerland in the spa hotel where team Germany is hosted since years and when Andreas Wellinger stayed in Willingen, he didn’t sleep somewhere else as well, right?

Andreas Wellinger: Yes, I always stay here. For the 5th time, just one time I had to intermit.

DT: So last night you got renamed?

AW: Yeah, more or less. They made little pun, made Willingen to Wellinger.

DT: They made Wellinger to Willinger.

AW: Yeah, whatever. Anyway I’m kind of native now.

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Oho. This was a challenge, so if you have any feedback, I will gladly hear it! It was really fun though. ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ My writing’s kind of dramatic, so just imagine that this was a life or death situation for you.

Dazai Osamu

Discovery and rescue:

  • Do you want to see your lover again? When Dazai reads the taunting letter that your kidnapper sends him, he’ll feel like his breath has been knocked out of him and that someone has dumped a bucket of ice water down his back. He’ll know exactly why the villain’s decided to send him this note; during his dark days, he was well known not only for his scary intellect, but also for his belittling demeanor, be it towards friend or foe. And now, someone’s taunting him using the well-being of the most important person in his life.
  • Of all the times he’s needed his wit, he needs it the most now. After his initial moment of shock, his brain jolts into motion again, with dozens of suspects and possible rescue plans running through his mind like a whirlwind. He tries not to let his fear hinder him, so he pushes any emotions away and forces himself to come up with a plan. (The members of the ADA, of course, drop everything immediately to help.)
  • This is so damn frustrating for him because he’s usually willing to gamble, but not this time, with your life on the line. He’ll have to follow the kidnapper’s rules and walk right into a trap…but even then, he can’t guarantee your safety. The others can see the frustration in the clenching of his fists around the letter and the tightening of his jaw. His expression is dark, and he can’t completely keep the anger from seeping into his voice.
  • The final confrontation will happen where you’re visible to him, again, to taunt him. The villain will be standing beside you or in front of you, making sure that Dazai can’t get to you easily. The ADA has a plan and rescues you, of course, but during your rescue mission, Dazai feels fear and anger like he’s never felt before. He’s never felt so useless in his life; his ability to nullify other abilities makes him a worthy opponent, but for once, he wishes he had something that would allow him to fight.
  • When he finally reaches you, he’ll hold you like his life depends on it. His arms will be wrapped around you, one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head, pressing your face to his shoulder or chest. You’ll both be kneeling on the ground, because the experience has been so harrowing that neither of you have the strength left to stand.
  • He’ll be whispering that you’re okay, he’s here, you’re safe now…but it’s to reassure himself just as much as it is to reassure you.

Aftermath:

  • Dazai will immediately bring you to Yosano, to make sure that you fully recover from any harm that you were subjected to. While you’re asleep in the clinic’s bed, Dazai will be sitting beside you, hand clasped around yours. He rarely leaves the bedside, ready to give you anything you need, and (he knows this is irrational, but…) to make sure that no one else can take you.
  • While you’re asleep, I can see Dazai staring at you, or staring into space, numb and deep in thought. This kidnapping was a wake-up call. The fear and remorse he had shoved into the back of his mind rise. He’s always been super confident, believing that no one can really touch him or cross him. Now, he realizes that he hadn’t thought enough about your safety when you entered his life, and how his past could affect you. If he’s angry now, he’s angry at himself. You’ll wake up because he’s squeezing your hand too hard.
  • He’ll ask you how you’re feeling in a soft whisper, and his stormy eyes will search you for both physical wounds and emotional ones. You can tell how he’s feeling, so you might make a little joke to cheer him up. His chuckle is hoarse and forced, and after a pause, he’ll break the silence in the same soft voice. “I’m sorry, I should have realized sooner, I wasn’t prepared.”
  • Tell him you knew he would come, that you were waiting. Make sure he knows that you have faith in him. He’ll hug you again, just as tightly as he did when he first found you, and vow that he’ll never let you experience something like this again.

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

Discovery and rescue:

  • I think Akutagawa will discover that you’re missing on his own, because he likes to check up on you. When he realizes that you’re not answering his texts or calls, he’ll check your home, and then work. When the people at your workplace tell him that they haven’t heard from you, Akutagawa is running out the door before they can finish their sentences.
  • Akutagawa will not conceal the anger he feels. He’s immediately on the phone with Higuchi, and she can tell from the tone of his voice that anyone who crosses him now is as good as dead. After Akutagawa gives a few brief, yelled orders to get some of his subordinates to help find you, he hangs up.
  • He doesn’t return to the Mafia; unlike Dazai, who usually plans, Akutagawa is more used to going out and doing whatever needs to be done. He definitely cannot just sit around and discuss what might have happened to you, and opts instead to scour the city. He’ll visit places that you frequent to look for clues, moving from location to location without stopping, for as long as he can.
  • If Akutagawa becomes desperate, I can see him actively seeking out enemies who might want to take revenge on him. Everyone he visits will immediately see his overwhelming anger in the fire in his eyes, and I doubt many would resist his questioning. Anyone who even thinks of it may end up dead.
  • When Akutagawa finally learns of your location, he’s there immediately, ignoring Higuchi’s advice to wait for backup or to be careful of traps. He charges in, so quickly and so suddenly that nobody in the kidnapper’s team will have a chance to react before they’re part of the bloodbath Akutagawa leaves behind.
  • When he sees you, he’ll yell out your name, and you’ll hear the desperation in his voice. You’ll only see a flash of the mixture of panic, fear, and relief on his face before he roughly takes you into his arms for a hug. This lasts briefly before he takes you out of wherever you were being kept, because he doesn’t want you to stay there for a second longer. He trusts that his team can clean up the mess.

Aftermath

  • Akutagawa will not want to let you leave his sight for a second. The brave nurse or doctor that convinces him to leave you to them for a checkup will have to look into his eyes and firmly tell him that it’s for your health, and that he’s impeding their efforts to take care of you. When Akutagawa finally realizes this, he’ll let the doctor take you into the room.
  • Akutagawa will be openly frantic, pacing furiously around the hallway, and Rashomon will be alive and ready to snap at anyone who even glances at him the wrong way. There’s just no way to calm him until he can see you again, so everyone leaves him alone.
  • When the doctor finally lets him into your room, he runs to you. I think he would be at a loss for what to do though. He was fine when he was fighting off the opponent, but now you’re here in front of him. You’re so fragile compared to him, even more so after this experience. I feel like he might be afraid that you wouldn’t want to be with him because this mess was his fault in the first place (he thinks), and god forbid, you might have changed your mind about him and even fear him now.
  • You’ll have to tell him that you’re feeling fine first, and thank him for coming to your rescue. Make sure he knows that he’s not the one at fault in any way, and that he saved you.
  • Reach out for him, but slowly, and hold his hand in yours. After you do that, I think he’ll come to his senses and realize that oh god, you’re safe, and you still want him. Pull him to lie down on the bed with you and cuddle into him. His arms will automatically wind around you, holding you close for hours as you doze. Akutagawa will slowly calm down because you’re here, safe in his arms, and not going anywhere. 

anonymous asked:

drunk friend prompts number 4 + warren? i love your blog it is the blood in my veins <3

Warren Worthington iii + this prompt list

A/N: I wrote this at two thirty am and didn’t proofread it whoops. @maximoffsjpeg look it’s your prompt list also @emmcfrxst look it’s your bf

It’s two thirty am, and you’re on hour seven of your Veronica Mars binge watch when there’s the sound of someone fumbling at the door. You tense up, pausing the tv and looking around frantically for some weighty object to bludgeon a potential intruder. You’re just tossing up whether or not you’ll be able to wield the nearby floor lamp with any real effectiveness when the door opens and your flat mate Warren stumbles through before swinging it shut again and sagging back against it, staring at you with the intensely unfocused expression of the incredibly drunk.

“I’m-” he starts after a long pause, then stops again, his gaze dropping to the floor and then up to the tv before settling on you again. “You’re spinning. That’s not a good sign. I’m-is that Veronica Mars? Can I watch it with you?” He asks, and you laugh at his utterly absorbed expression as he takes in the paused frame on the tv.

“Sure you can, Warren. Let’s just get your shit sorted out first, okay?” You say, crossing the room to him and grabbing his hand to tug him towards the nearest chair, pushing him gently down into it before you head to the kitchen, getting a large glass of water and a bread roll for him, bringing it over to where he’s sat. You settle back onto the couch and unpause the tv, keeping an eye on Warren to make sure he doesn’t break the glass and that he finishes the water and the food you brought him. When he’s finished, you take the glass from him and gently pull him up, pushing him towards the bathroom for him to get himself ready to get in bed. As you point him in the right direction, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close, resting his chin briefly on the top of your head. Warren has always been touchy feely with you when he’s drunk, and at this point you take the uncharacteristic displays of physical affection in stride, resolutely ignoring the way your chest tightens a little at the gesture.

He emerges from the bathroom a little while later, his wings fluttering tiredly through the giant holes he tore in the hoodie he’s wearing. As he walks over to you, you expect him to shove your legs off the couch and occupy the space beside you but instead he flops down on top of you, pressing his face against the crook of your neck and letting his wings drape over the back and the side of the couch. Your arm automatically winds around his shoulders, hand carding idly through his hair as you turn your attention back to the current episode and try not to overthink his behaviour and current proximity. Warren lets out a low hum of contentment as your nails scratch gently over his scalp.

“I like it when you stroke my hair. It’s-” he breaks off in a yawn, “-it’s nice,” he finishes, nuzzling into your neck, the corner of a drowsy smile just visible as you glance down at him. Heat floods your cheeks and you can’t stop a small smile of your own from tugging at your lips as you continue to run your fingers through his hair.

His bodyweight over yours is comforting in the cold apartment, and you don’t remember falling asleep, but you wake up with Warren still on top of you, your arm around his shoulders, and seeing him so peaceful, with his warm breath fanning over your skin makes your head spin a little, and you know it’ll be so much harder to ignore the feelings you have for your roommate after this.

2

THAT WATCH:

“Nightingale presented me with a small package neatly wrapped in silver paper. He stood waiting with suspicious casualness but I wasn’t fooled… Unwrapped, it turned out to be an original stainless steel Omega, antique, black and silver, automatic winding and therefore magic-proof and worth about seventy to eighty times what I’d bought him.” - Whispers Underground

Headcanon for THAT WATCH:

  • As there’s no way Nightingale would gift his hand me downs to Peter (give, absolutely, but not for Christmas), it’s very unlikely that the watch was one that he himself had bought and used for himself or been given new as a present.
  • Since the watch is antique and it’s very unlikely that Thomas went out and bought an antique watch with Peter in mind when he could have bought a brand new one for far less money, it must have belonged to someone else before ending up in his possession.
  • This wasn’t just some random watch left in the Folly by someone who never returned, partly for the same reasons as part one- Nightingale’s no Scrooge- and partly because Nightingale would feel ‘presumptuous’ giving such a thing away ‘on his own recognisance,’ to quote his feelings about selling the school (and also because it would be kinda creepy to give Peter some random dead dude’s things).

Therefore: the watch was given Nightingale by a previous owner, either for him to keep it safe for them or as a memento, before they went away somewhere or after their death.  

  • The watch’s previous owner and Nightingale were close. It’s a very intimate thing to give someone your watch. Particularly at the time this exchange presumably happened. Watches were ‘coming of age’ presents- things to be handed down from father to son- something that a man would seldom be seen without. 
  • Peter reminded Thomas enough of the watch’s former owner that he thought it would be a suitable gift for him.

Conclusion: The watch was David Mellenby’s.

Possible watches: Above are images of two possible candidates for ‘THE WATCH’

  1. The first watch is from 1921. With watches often being given as a 21st birthday present and my headcanon for David being that he’s roughly the same age as Nightingale, this is a possibility. The one problem is that this watch is set in silver rather than stainless steel and I couldn’t seem to find any in steel before the 1930s on the site I was looking at (though this doesn’t necessarily mean they didn’t exist, since stainless steel was in common use in the early 1920s).
  2. The second watch is a 1930s model which is waterproof and was used by the military. Looks like a likely suspect.

Scenarios for Nightingale to have come by the watch:

  1. Pre-war, David gave the watch to Thomas in the way a friend might a friendship bracelet- albeit a very expensive and personal one- or a finance might be presented with a ring (presumably without the prospect of impending nuptials in this case, alas). Something for Nightingale to wear and think of David, even when he was off on foreign service work.
  2. Post-war. David left the watch to Nightingale in his Will.
  3. During the war, David gave the watch to Nightingale, either for its safe keeping or his own. Or both…

“David, go…” 

“I can’t just leave you here!” 

“Go, now, Lieutenant. That’s an order… what are you doing?”

“Take this.”

“I can’t take your… Get on the damned glider, David…”

“Take it! I want you to take it. You can return it to me. Safely. Along with yourself.”

Whatever the case, it’s a pretty damned intimate gift for Peter to have been given, and I can imagine Nightingale deliberating for hours about whether or not to give it to him before thinking ‘David would want someone to get use out of it’ and ‘David would like Peter’… ‘David was like Peter.’

And, as always, the thought would terrify him as much as it thrilled him,

But at least Peter would always be on time.

“Mike?” you called from your comfortable position on the couch. Your head was resting on the arm of the sofa, your legs tossed carelessly onto your husband’s lap as his bright eyes trained intensely on the video game he was attempting to master. You watched his fingers move across the controller swiftly, buttons being pressed rapidly.

“Hm?” Michael hummed, his eyebrows lifting and his eyes never leaving the screen. You studied his side profile, biting your lip and hesitating. His hair was a shocking black, his face pale and clean-shaven. Your gaze drifted down to the piercing in his ear, to the prominent jugular that you loved to kiss.

“I-I need to tell you something,” you told him. Michael seemed to sense the nervousness in your voice. Immediately his index finger landed on a small button of the controller and the game he had been playing came to an abrupt halt. He set his controller down onto the couch beside him, angling his body towards you and looking at you with wide, curious eyes.

“What’s up angel?”

You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, retracting your legs from your husband’s lap and crossing them, your knees protruding. Sighing, you shot a glance around your lounge.

Despite Michael’s many protests, you’d turned your living room into something of a festive masterpiece. There were stockings hanging from the fireplace and little multicoloured lights running along the walls. Michael had groaned, stating that you didn’t need decorations to get into the holiday spirit. All you needed was eggnog and a few badly-sung karaoke tunes.

The only component he hadn’t complained about was the mistletoe hanging from every doorway in the house, and you had to be careful so that you didn’t coincidentally end up together under the fern. Michael was all too willing to follow that part of tradition, and often the mindless pecks lead to far more. 

“I–,” you began, “I know what I want for the holidays.”

Michael processed your words, his brows furrowing before he finally broke into a wide grin. “Yeah?” he beamed, reaching out for you. You allowed him to grip your arm and tug you forward into his lap, instinctively parting your legs so that you straddled him.

Reflexively, your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, fingers fiddling with his hair, relishing in the wispy, soft texture. Michael wiggled his eyebrows, “Well go on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

You gazed at him adoringly, wondering how the hell you’d gotten so lucky. Michael’s light green eyes were shining with excitement, a twinkle that–you’d noticed–was only ever present when he looked at you. It was comforting, and this sense of security was what pushed you to utter the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for a while now.

“I want a baby.”

You waited with a held breath, and for a long moment, there was only silence. You looked down at your lap, not being able to meet his gaze–what if he wasn’t ready yet?

“A baby,” Michael breathed, and without bringing your gaze to his, you nodded somewhat sheepishly. Your husband continued in a soft voice, “You want a baby.”

“Yeah,” your voice came out as a hoarse whisper and you immediately cringed, clearing your throat and trying again, “Yeah…I do.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t think I can wrap that,” Michael joked, and despite your nervousness and anticipation, you let a giggle fall from your lips, finally bringing yourself to slant your head up and look at him. There was a small smirk playing on his rosy lips, his shoulders relaxed–he seemed to be at ease with your request.

“You can’t wrap anything,” you teased shyly, and your husband guffawed but nodded, a smile spread across his lips. He cleared his throat, tapping your thigh before standing abruptly, “Alright, let’s go.”

“What?” you sputtered, your eyes widening at the sudden change in altitude. You gripped onto Michael’s shoulders, your legs automatically winding around his waist as his hands crept downward, cupping your bum through your comfy black leggings.

“You want a baby,” he said simply, shrugging, “I want a baby. So let’s make a baby, yeah?”

He paused right underneath the doorway of the lounge, grinning at you deviously and flicking his eyes up. You followed his gaze, perceiving the familiar mistletoe hanging above your heads and chuckling slightly, shaking your head at his antics.

“Yeah,” you breathed as Michael leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours, “Let’s make a baby.”

“Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a boner.”


As Mob and Teruki grow closer as friends (much to Teru’s delight), Mob discovers one day that Teru likes to go running before school. “It wakes me up and relaxes at the same time,” Teru says with a smile. “Maybe you should try it.”

“Yes, please!”, Mob agrees enthusiastically, which surprises Teru, who knows Mob isn’t a person that loves to experiment. But he has told Teru about the body improvement club and his goal to get fit, so Teru guesses Mob wanting to try jogging does make sense.

The next morning they meet in front of Teru’s house at the crack of dawn and head out of the city, into the thick woods. “I come out here because the scenery is much nicer than in the city“, says Teru, who feels the need to explain himself. “Plus you barely meet any people.”

Mob nods, unable to speak as he’s already quite winded. Teru automatically adapts his tempo to Mob’s, who notices but doesn’t say anything. He wouldn’t be sure what to say anyway.

But he is enjoying himself. Both of them are; the happy chirping of the birds, the first dapples of sunlight across the forest floor, and the clean air are simply wonderful, and instill in both of them a sense of peace they haven’t felt for a while.

Mob, who isn’t used to the twilit forest, is completely focused on his surroundings. But Teru chances a glance over every now and then, staring at Mob’s bouncing black hair, his exertion-flushed cheeks or, when the blonde is feeling especially daring, Mob’s slender legs. Teru knows this isn’t a good idea, since he’s bound to trip sooner or later if he doesn’t pay attention to the forest floor, but he can hardly help himself. He’s never seen Mob exercising before, and to him, it’s a precious sight. Mob looks twice as cute as usual when he’s out of breath - plus, the implication that even someone like Mob has limits somehow makes Teru feel closer to Mob than he ever has. It’s just a good thing they’re running, otherwhise Teru feels he might just grab the small esper by the shoulders and kiss him, consequences be damned.

As it turns out, the one who trips from not paying enough attention is actually Mob. He’s watching a passing robin and suddenly, he’s lying on wet leaves and his ankle hurts.

Badly.

Teru immediately skids to a stop and crouches down next to him. “Kageyama-kun, are you okay? Are you hurt? Is -”

“I’m fine,” Mob says quickly, uncomfortable because of the worry in Teru’s face (Mob doesn’t deserve that just from stupidly tripping) and because how said face seems to be too close by half. Not that Teru is ugly or anything, in fact, he’s very handsome - and that is precisely why Mob is feeling even more flustered than usual.

He tries to get up but immediately falls down again, a bright bolt of pain shooting through his ankle. But strong arms catch him, and hold him against a firm chest for just a bit too long. “Shigeo!”, Teru exclaims worriedly, not even noticing that he’s switched to Mob’s first name. “Let me look at that.”

Mob doesn’t try to stop him this time as Teru gently lifts up Mob’s right foot. The ankle is already starting to swell, and Mob lets out a strangled gasp as Teru tries to flex the foot. Teru apologizes profusely before stating, “It’s sprained, at least. Possibly broken… We have to get you back to the city as soon as possible.”

He grabs the waterbottle from his fanny pack, as well as the solitary roll of bandages he packed for emergencies. (Boy, is he glad he brought those.) Then he carefully rolls down Mob’s sock and starts bandaging.

What seems like an eternity later to the both of them, Mob has a wet wrapping around his ankle that is wonderfully cold, if a bit tight. But he doesn’t complain as Teru rolls the sock back up and gives him a worried smile. “Okay, that should help, if only temporarily. I… I guess I should carry you back.”

He reaches out with his powers to pick up Mob, but as soon as his energy touches Mob’s body the small esper’s powers lash out, barely giving Teru time to jump backwards. Mob’s eyes widen. “Hanazawa-kun! I’m really sorry, I don’t know what -” As Teru tries again, Mob’s energy flares up again, almost singeing Teru’s eyebrows this time. “I’m not doing this on purpose, I swear!”, Mob pleads, but Teru waves him off with a goodnatured smile. “It’s okay. I guess your powers are on autopilot because of the pain. It’s happened to me before - it’s some kind of attack and defense trigger. Pain plus foreign energy equals attack…”

He gives Mob an uncertain smiIe.”I guess I’ll just have to carry you the oldfashioned way.” He turns his back to Mob and kneels down. Mob stares at him for a second, then awkwardly clambers onto Teru’s back.

Teru heads back the way they came, now with Mob resting on his back, both of them hoping to reach the city soon.

Both of them growing increasingly flustered.

Teru is whistling a happy tune, but honestly that’s just to distract himself from his crush’s body pressing up tightly against him, Mob’s breath tickling Teru’s neck with every step. Calm breaths, Teru. Don’t try to think about it, don’t try to fantasize or - oH GOD HE JUST SHIFTED AND I CAN FEEL EVERYTHING…!

Mob, on the other hand, has suddenly become aware that underneath the loose sweaters Teru usually wears, the blond esper is actually very well muscled. Very well indeed. It’s giving Mob a very strange feeling in the pit of his stomach and that’s making him nervous.

This is so embarassing, both of them think simultaneously and silently decide that next time they want to work out together, they’re going to the gym.

16. Sleepy Head

members: B.A.P’s Choi Junhong

content: makeup noona and tired maknae

rating: fluffy

“Noona!” He shouted as he left the set, “Noona!” He shouted again, and even louder when he received no reply. He began to get slightly annoyed as he pushed past his managers, band members, stylists and make up artists in an attempt to find her. You were busy entertaining a few of the young kids on the set of B.A.P’s new music video, tussling the boys hair and brushing small amounts of blush on the girl’s faces. Normally you’re sorting out the band members make up whilst correcting any hair that had fallen out of place but as the day had gone on, you have found yourself gravitating to the small group of children.

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Til’ The Day I Die.

Original Inspiration: Okay, so. I didn’t want anything to do with anything The Walking Dead. (I know, shoot me later, I understand now.) But anyway, Jeffery Dean Morgan decided to ruin my life as I know it and accept the role of Negan so now I’m binge watching all six seasons like I have no life and I’ve completely fallen head over heels in love with Daryl Dixon. So this is what happens when you leave an extremely horny writer alone with an extremely good looking character. I do apologize in advance.  

Author: contrygal7

Reader Gender: Female

Word Count: 3,973 (I know, it’s worth it. Trust me.)

Warnings: Good ol’ fashioned Daryl Smut/ Fluff/ and angst. Because I can. Ha.

Your clothes clung hot and heavy to your back, the sweat dripping from your pores. Even though it was hotter than hell, his sexy ass grunge look still sent a fire straight to your groin.

You felt your body begin to betray your feelings, you were mad as hell and so was he; but that just made matters worse.

The day had started like any other, you woke in a sticky mess as your husband spooned you from behind.

Getting up, you slowly started to strip all your clothes off; it was hotter than Satan’s ball sack and your clingy husband wasn’t helping matters any.

“Where you goin’?” You heard his sexy morning voice from behind you as you slowly turned your head to see a sleepy grin cross his face.

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Airless; Out of The Water

Characters: You x Chen
Genre: Romance, Slice of Life, Metaphoric, Angst, Drabble

My father used to go fishing every other weekend.  He’d rise at four in the morning.  Chop, chop, chop, goes the butcher knife against the wooden board.  The kettle squeals in delight as its thermodynamic assignment concludes.  I curl back into the comfort of softness and heavenly clouds disguised as earthly cotton and sheets.  

But three consecutive knocks ramble against the doorway and I’m up on my feet, racing toward the bathroom to accompany my father on his road to recovery.  After a week’s worth of holding back anger, pushing through ridiculous requests from superiors, and sleeping only two hours per night, it was only right to take the day off to recoup.

With a pail in one hand, and an extra net in the other, I waddle my way, trailing behind the middle-aged man.  He had sure aged ten years in the short course of one.  A worm squirms around between his scarred up hands as he fastens the bait onto the hook and lowers it into its demise.

A ripple appears amidst the previously unadulterated surface.  And all there was left to do was play the waiting game.  I tap my sandals against gravel as seagulls swish in aerial chase, seeking for the perfect opportunity to snag its prey without the wasted efforts of sacrificing a pawn piece.

The pole curves as my father leaps onto his feet, his spine arched back, feet in battle stance, reeling in with the purity of his muscles to come out as the final winner.  A five-inch grey tripe sputters out of the water, thrashing from left to right at the utter shock of mere betrayal.  I hold out the bucket to catch the fish but my father unexpectedly tosses it back into the ocean.  Bathed in displeasure of its strayed meal, seagulls gawk furiously as they soar above my head.      

“Papa, why did you release the fish back into the sea?  Was it not good enough?” I innocently ask.

“Oh no.  Just catch and release.  Just for fun.”

Just for fun.

“Catch and release?”

“Yeah, don’t want to kill them.  Just for fun,” he chuckles as he loads another bait and prepares for round two of his thriller game.

“But they are hurt.”

The worm wiggles in his hands.

I innocently continue, “You hurt them by tricking them into your grasps and then throwing them back to die a painful, drawn out death…”

The pole curves but he doesn’t move to get it.

~

Rain splatters along glass, dragging, dragging long streaks of vapor and distilled water before finally settling on the realization that perhaps, sometimes, letting go was better.  Perhaps, today, things were different, bonds broken, and wounds resurface but once upon a time, we were all happy.  Or at least, I was.

Flashes of smiles, laughter, sweet exchanges or little nothings, even the arguments and drama color my mind with rainbow merging into ash taupe.  I lift the steaming mug against my lower lip, allowing my coral lipbalm to moisten the dry porcelain.  A breath of steam vaporize into the artificially heated café.

Like a fish out of the water, I rub my still frozen palms against the circumference of the mug to steal its warmth.  Never one to excel in socializing, I fidget left and right with my heart racing ten times the speed of normality.  Would this end up the same as all the previous almost happy endings?

They’d hold my hand, sprinkle sweet kisses against my cheeks, one even said the prohibited three words, just to eventually toss me back into the ocean.  Was I not good enough?  Was it my fault?  It must have been my fault.  So I spent my time floating on the surface of the water, waiting to be caught, wanting to be caught.  PICK ME!  PICK ME!  Only I am left.  All my friends have found their happily ever after.  So…pick me…Please…

“Hey, I’m Kim Jongdae,” the voice of an angel rings from my left.

My fingertips sting from my excessive grip on the heated porcelain of my coffee mug.  Dumbfounded and still lost in my own thoughts, I stare up, dazed, at the handsome young man.  The corners of his lips curl up into a chummy kitten smile.  What cat doesn’t eat fish?  I nod in acknowledgement and he proceeds to take the seat directly opposite of me.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, there was just so much traffic,” he withers in shame.

A red flag instantly hoists up.  Being late on the first date and making an excuse – best to guard myself.  Automatically, my arms wind around my cold body.

“It’s…it’s okay…” I stutter so as to not completely cut off my only chance at survival.

“Are you cold?” the man gentlemanly asks and begins to rid of his jacket.

“No, no, I’m fine,” I stand guarded.

“Hm…” he nods and rebuttons his coat.  Clearing his throat, he flips open the menu, “You must be hungry.”

“Thirsty, if anything,” I mumble and curse my own desperation but the refined man throws me a sweet smile.  He orders two Italian entrees, some wine, and quietly notes to the waitress to turn up the heat next to my seat.  

As we wait for the dishes to be served, Jongdae initiates the familiar who, what, when, where, why introductory conversations of every first date.  He was a vocal teacher, at a high school, located down four blocks from the café, and lived in a small but cozy condo by the sea.

“Do you fish a lot?” I hear my voice ask.

“Hm?” he stumbles at my random question.

“Fishing…” I murmur as I twirl spaghetti on my fork.

“Ah, fishing,” he observes.  I hold my breath but brave a façade of indifference so that he wouldn’t know of my weakness.  “Nope, I don’t.”

“You don’t?” I instantly reply.

“No.  My neighbors do but I just don’t understand the whole fishing thing.  I guess it’s calming for some but the whole thing of luring them with bait, mortally wounding them, and then tossing them back into the water – just for fun – is strange to me,” Jongdae casually responds as he slurps his pasta.

My brows cave and my shoulders loosen as I gaze admirably at the young man, before me.

Despite my determination to walk home, my attractive date insists on giving me a ride.

“No, it’s okay.  I live just around the corner,” I make up the excuse and proceed to slide his jacket off my shoulders.

“It’s kinda dark outside though,” he hesitates as he motions for me to keep his jacket on.  “Do you mind if I walk with you home…just to make sure you are safe?”

I shift my feet against the doormat.

“…and as a punishment for being late?” he adds and then jokingly remarks to lighten up the mood, “I must have lost a lot of points for that…”  Jongdae scratches his head and sighs.

“No…I was just early…”  Because I am too eager.  The door opens, sending a gust of wind, as strong as sea currents, into the café.  Shivering, I stumble backward and round my arms securely around my small form.  Jongdae tells me to wait.  My eyes follow him as he trails off to the counter.  In less than five minutes, he returns with a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

“Drink this while you go home so you won’t be cold,” he instructs as he takes my hand and wraps it around the cup.  I, inadvertently, shiver from the magical touch of warmth.

“Thanks,” I smile and dig in my pockets for money to pay him back for his kind gesture but he shakes his head.  His eyes scan my guarded state with an ounce of sympathy and forgiveness.  This is when they back off.  Because I am inexperience.  Because I am not popular, unwanted – a leftover.  No one wants leftovers…

But he slips his fingers through mine and squeezes.

“Let’s go,” he encourages and half tugs me out the door due to my baffled state at his unexpected response.  “It’s a little chilly now that autumn’s here,” he observes as he glances up to admire the fully circular moon.  It’s frigid and light drizzles of Heaven’s tears coat my bare skin but Jongdae’s palm is warm and cozy.  To swindle more of his heat under my possession, I shyly close the distance between us to a mere inch.  But he surprises me by bringing my hand to rest on his chest.  As gentle as ever, he wraps both his hands around mine and chafes invisible fire into my bloodsteam.  I flush salmon rouge but hold my breath as to not let my fears ruin the moment.

“Good night.  Sleep well,” the gentleman grins as we stop in front of my gates.

“You too,” I whisper with my head low, unable to command my confidence from beneath the waters.

As natural as ever, Jongdae loops his fingers through the valleys of mine, squeezes my minute hands, and leans in to plant a honeyed kiss on my forehead.  I begin to see glittered stars and swirling cosmic remnants.

That night, for the first time in a long time, I fell asleep with a smile casted along my pink lips and his heavenly voice singing in my ears.

Drifting Drifting Drifting

The hook drops, immediately, I lung forward, surrendering myself to anyone – young, old, bald, rich, anyone.  Just take me.  I don’t want to wander alone anymore.  The line reels in as I elevate upward…out of my comfort zone.  It burns.  Air escapes my grasps, my heart pulsates in paradoxical enrapture at being chosen and poignancy at the realization that it was over.

Mercury streams from by wound but finally being someone’s numbs all pain.  I stare, unblinkingly, at my capturer.  Eyes of lightning sparkle briskly in my direction as he chuckles in joy at his living trophy.  Handsome, with a vocal of Heavenly Angels, he buckles forward to rub his human flesh against my scales.

Touch of love.  A river cascades down my widened eyes.  Finally.

Squeezing my body, he detaches the needle from my flesh.  I mask a wince, not wanting him to prematurely see my flaws.  The young man scans my body.  Am I good enough?  Enough meat? Big enough?

Snap.  A flash of lightning blinds me as my capturer holds me up against him and grins for a picture.  But just like all the other almost relationships, I was never good enough to be shown off in public.  Just in private, as if we had committed a crime.  An underground relationship.

My body throttles in mid air, begging to cling onto the last memory of his magical touch against mine before I am tossed right back into sea.  Salted water infests into my wound like cancer cells.  It stings, it stings everywhere.  Instinctively, my fins flap around for a chance at survival.  But my heart pauses.  Scar after scar.  Am I not tired?  Gradually, the flaps subside and I sink into the very depths of the ocean – motionless.  

I jolt up in bed, forehead lined in beads of sweat, heart pulsing in inhumane beats.  The mellifluous melody of my phone drums against my mattress.  Running my fingers through my damp hair, I reach out to scan the glowing screen.

“Kim Jongdae,” it reads.

Perhaps, it’s safer to lock my heart and hide alone.

“There’s always other fishes in the sea.  Why cry for that one that got away?” a friend used to say.

“Haven’t you learned your lesson.  Don’t fall for the bait anymore,” another advised.  

And yet, with wound still fresh, I venture back to shore, swimming against the current to the blurry surface just for that one chance that someone would settle for me.  Maybe I wasn’t as pretty as all the beauties of the seven seas.  Maybe I can’t fill you up, but if you pick me…if you just…pick…me…I swear I will give you my everything.

I swipe right.

“Hello?” I suppress the tremble in my voice.

“Hey,” Jongdae’s beamed, “I’m outside.”

“Outside?” I murmur as I knock my throbbing head several times and rummage around my vanity table for my glasses.

“Yeah, for breakfast,” he chuckles.

Blurry blotches sharpen into clear images.

Right, Jongdae and I had agreed for a second date…

But the wound…it still throbs…I place my palm against my chest, ridding of the jitters and shivers and bareness of my heart.  

Jongdae calls for my name after a minute of silence.

“Oh, sorry!  I slept through my first alarm.  I’ll be down in five!” I answer as I scamper over to my restroom.

Still chuckling, my date jokes, “Guess we’re even now.  Take your time.”

We stop in front of a typical Asian canteen.  Jongdae orders as I pick a seat outside, decorated by the natural luminance of the morning sun and the soft laced shadows created by the tabletop umbrella.

“Did you sleep well last night?” my handsome date asks as we fill our stomach with yummy sandwiches.

Briefly, I pause.  My eyes flash aquamarine, before, I force on a smile and nod.  Jongdae narrows his eyes but brushes it off to rave cheerfully about one of his students who had auditioned to become a trainee for SM Entertainment.  Instead of listening, I discover my attention zoned in on the glass fish tank, beside the restaurant’s kitchen, which housed an over abundance of captured souls desperate to just be chosen.    

He walks me back home and presses his lips against the back of my hand.

We went on a third date, then a fourth, a fifth…I was sinking too deep, way too fast.  He was perfect.  Sweet, considerate, everything I ever wanted in my other half.  But that dream…that hook against my jaw spread chains and shackles throughout my fearful heart.

Sixth…seven…eight…

His laughter colored my world with rainbows and sunshines; his hugs thawed out my frozen heart.  But in the back of my mind…

Nine…ten…

Each time… I wondered…when…just when would it be our last?  Just like everyone else, he was bound to get tired of me soon…

“Happy Two Month Anniversary, Jagiya!” I open the snapchat of Jongdae grinning cheesily into the screen.    

With a fluttering heart, I automatically snap a picture of myself as a response but my thumb hovers over the send button as I feel the sharp hook sink into my flesh.  Biting my lower lip, I deleted the picture and instead, simply reply with “Good Morning (: Happy two months!”

He shows up at my door with a neatly wrapped bouquet of my favorite daisies.  His eyes glint in twinkling gold as they scan my lips for a kiss.  Shyly, I plant a kiss on Jongdae’s cheeks as mine paint in rosy red.

-  

“Are you free today?  We haven’t had a date for over two weeks, Jagiya.  I miss you,” a text read, a few weeks later.  I could almost hear Jongdae pouting.

I miss you too.

“Um…    

My heart skips a beat but my toes flounder two steps back, away from the blurry and deceiving surface of the vast seas.  

“Someone must have hurt you deeply in the past,” my date concludes.

And I feel naked and torn that I was so readable to the naked eye.  On reflex, I pull my hand away but he holds on.

“For a beautiful and intelligent girl, like you, to be so guarded…” his voice lines with a scintilla of sorrow.  “I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

That’s what they all say.

“I can walk home by myself,” I almost wheeze as I back away further, choosing to be alone and safe than to jeopardize myself with the temptations of hope.  Internally, I began to reprimand myself over and over again for the stupidity of agreeing to this blind date – this last step – before I sink into the depths of the Earth’s core.      

No one wants to feel like they’re constantly at the edge of the cliff, with bare feet trembling on eggshells.  I am ruined; I have trust issues.  He deserves better.

“Hey.  Hey,” he latches onto me and coaxes, “That was my fault.  I shouldn’t have said that.  I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s mine.  It’s my fault.  I’m…I’m…” I babble as I feel my breathing hitch within my chest, a forewarning before an inevitable anxiety attack would ensue.  Quickly, I bow and scurry off but the kindhearted caregiver chases me down.  His fingers, meant to play various instruments, from strings, to brass, to flawless woodwinds, curl around my arm as if playing musical keys along my scaly skin.  I shiver and swing him away in panic, like a fish betrayed and freshly thrown against pavement.

“Hey, hey!” his tranquil voice calls out as I continue to fight from his grasps.  He tosses both arms around my trembling, heap of a mess form.  I began to thrash around as a final means to breakaway.  Even as his hook cuts along my throat, I’d rather die a free fish, than a caught prey.  “Shh…shhh” he hushes and I finally realize the tears drenching my paled cheeks.  “Shh…I got you…shh…tell me what is wrong…”

Nothing.  Nothing is wrong!  Just let me –

“I’ll protect you,” Jongdae promises, “Don’t worry.”  He eases my cheek against his chest via his gentle taps against my slim jawline.  I tremor as his fingertips graze against the weakest point along my throat, where scars healed upon scars.  And I almost buckle under the suspense but the rhythmic beats of his chest coats my ears with much needed honesty and solace.  Fearful yet hopeful, I peep my head slightly out of his caress.  He surprises me by capturing my lips with his that tastes of shea butter and fresh spearmint. The hook.  I held my breath as he moistens every crease of my flesh with an abundance of water and oxygen necessary for a fish out of water.  Closing my eyes, I wait for the sharp pain of my inevitable fate under a traitorous love, but he surprises me with his gradual and delicate release that left my old wounds undisturbed and shielded.  I blink as I gaze up with golden eyes of faith and wonder.  His thumb strokes my doughy cheeks as he leans in for another quick peck, which causes my heart to slowly surrender; my body melts against his embrace.

“Whatever happened in the past, I will protect you from it.  I won’t take you or your trust in me for granted,” he soothed my scars with his genuine words.

“You promise?” I quietly ask as the chains and locks slowly loosened against the metal gates of my heart.

His chin bobbles against the top of my head as he presses me tighter under his armored wings.  “Promise.”

I lean closer against him as the ice melts from my stone heart to burble in fluttering beats.

“So will you give me a chance to love you?” Jongdae requests as he places his lips against my right temple, moistening my soul with endless delight and trust.

Airless, like fresh out of the waters, I nod.  Just as it takes one betrayal to wound a heart, it only takes one pure love to heal a scar.  For, in his promise, a fish didn’t need to toss herself into realms unmatched for her species, just to be chosen and loved.  In his unconditional protection, he granted me endless oceans, freedom, and adventures but also a safe haven where I could call my “home”.        

A/N: Hola my BunBuns, hope you liked that scenario!  I wrote this back in September for @swaggypenguinz ‘s bday but didn’t finish it until like December.  For some reason, every time I write Chen scenarios, I end up getting intense Kim Jongdae feels for like a week thereafter.  

Like, comment, follow for more!!

Story Master Archive for more of my scenarios (and i mean, holy crappies, I have written so many O_O)

Reconnect

This is a sequel to Reunion, set in the Drift Au.


Alcor was finishing the remains of a lesser demon that had unwisely tried to catch him by surprise when he felt the tug of a summon. He frowned, looking at the blood spattered all over his suit, and sighed. Well, he couldn’t show up at a summon looking like this. It wasn’t professional. He phased into the Mindscape and snapped his fingers. His blood-stained suit was replaced by a clean but otherwise identical copy, and then he turned his attention to the summoning. It was surprisingly strong, considering he detected only a hint of blood sacrifice–not enough to be a live sacrifice of even a cat. The summoner had been stingy, probably just pricking their finger for a bit of blood. Normally he could ignore a summon that weak, but something about this tugged at his mind–he froze, and muttered a curse when he realized who it was.

Mabel was summoning him.

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yOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I CRIED OVER THIS HEADCANON THIS IS ABSOLUTELY PERFECT AND ICONIC i just had to write some of it~~

thank you for this, precious anon. ur my favorite.

His fingers hazily trip over the dust in the floorboards. She’s watching him intently, tears still fresh in her eyes. A few barely wet marks are on the floor below her, where her tears decided to fall. The stains are prominent, the thick layer of dust on the attic floor left traces of things long forgotten.

It gives him an idea.

He moves his finger upward, a dark line of clean floorboard underneath the dust settles behind it.

He moves it downward, and the same thing happens.

Juvia stops sniffling for a moment.

“Wh…what are you doing?” she asks. Her voice is quiet, probably from the stuffiness of the attic itself. The dust is even taking its toll on him, he wants to cough, but he is too focused on the floor to even dare think about it.

He blows lightly at the dust, so the layer is more thin. More pliable.

She gives up on interrogating him and watches him stare at the floor, with keen interest of her own.

Maybe he’s distracted her enough that she forgot.

He draws one big, long line from far away and back to his knees, which he is kneeling on. She sucks in a breath quietly.

He leans over in the slightest, drawing an identical line, but adding a smaller leg to the bottom right corner.

He leans even farther yet, so his elbow is propped next to her bent knees. He traces a long, oval shape, then retreats back to his spot. She scoots back an inch – curious to see where this was going.

He starts to add another line, diagonal this time, and then he connects another diagonal line to the opposite side. She is far past intrigued now, it hasn’t even been a minute since he’s broken her heart and still she is reeled back in, a foolish fish if there ever was one.

He makes another line still, lightly dragging his forefinger down and adding three sharp tic marks horizontally.

She’s crying again – but this time, for a totally different reason.

“Gray-sama,” she bawls, holding a hand over her lips as if to trap the rest of her words.

He says nothing, only draws two lines inverted down, and then connecting them with a different line. He makes another awkwardly egg-shaped oval.

He pauses, like the next thing he carves into the dust will be the death of them both.

But, courage catches him off guard.

For the finishing touch, he swoops his finger to make an upside-down arch.

His masterpiece is finished. He is holding his breath, and his eyes are shut so tightly he fears they may never open again. He’s just waiting for a response, for something to happen to her, like it did to Ur…to Lyon…

Juvia shakily stands up, and he offers her his shoulder for support. Every part of her body aches from crying but she still stands, because her mind, heart and soul are all twitching with anticipation.

“Gray-“

She is so taken aback, she forgets to add the honorific.

There, scrawled into the dust in the floorboards were three simple words she thought she’d never get from him.

I love you.

Se blinks the tears away unsuccessfully, choking on the nonexistent words lodged in her throat.

She drops back down to her knees, and lightly presses her tear-soaked hands to his cheeks.

He cracks his eyes open, just barely.

And she is there, thank god, she is there with him.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

She lets out a bittersweet giggle and throws herself at him, he barely registers the feel of her soft body against his. His hands automatically wind around her waist, fastening her to him.

He’s not going to let go – not now, not ever.

kind of short but??? im so in love with this idea holy shit

I told you so.

Smuffy one-shot inspired by the 4X12 promo pics of CS being super happy and my hopes for long overdue sexy times. Thought I would get one more story in before the hiatus came to an end. One more week! (Mild M rating on this one)

“It’s nice seeing you so happy, Emma.” Mary Margaret caught Emma’s blush before turning back to the rest of the party, leaving her daughter in the safe arms of Killian in their corner booth. Emma felt Killian’s arm apply a bit more pressure to her waist, almost imperceptibly, but enough for her to notice. She lifted her head from the crook of his neck to look at his face, expecting to see a smug smile on his lips. Instead, he met her gaze with a happy smile, no hint of mirth behind it.

“It’s okay, you can say it.”

Killian looked at her quizzically, cocking his head a bit to the side. “Say what, Swan?”

“I told you so.”

She watched as his eyebrow lifted, and his hand came up to scratch behind his ear. “Love, I confess to not quite knowing what you mean by that?”

“Oh, it’s an expression. It means…well…when someone says something to you that you deny, but later comes true, that person can say ‘I told you so’ when they’re proven right.”

The confusion left his features and a look of quiet contemplation took its place. He shifted slightly so he could look her directly in her eyes, searching for what she might be referring to behind her jade irises.

“So, love, what declaration of mine are you claiming has come to pass?”

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Mershon and Hollingsworth revolving cylinder automatic rifle. Patented in 1855. A spring mechanisim automatically fired and rotated the cylinder. The trigger could be locked in back position for full automatic fire. To wind up the spring, a ratchet lever is located just behind the receiver. Six shot percussion .40 caliber.

1855

Yes, a full auto capable rifle from before the US civil war.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Beth is alive and on the bus when they pass the ultrasound picture around and Daryl sees how Beth looks at it and when they get back home he tells her "you know, I could give ya one if ya want it" -and she totally does.

Daryl’s never thought about being a father before.

Can you really blame him, with the prick of a dad he had? Any memory of parental actions or love were limited, if not completely non-existent, and after all that, Daryl finds he’s been turned off of the idea of being in that position himself. Because what if he turned out the same? What if after all those years of fearing, loathing, and hating the man who gripped the title of dad… he became the very same abomination?

But when he looks at Beth from across his seated position in the RV, her eyes glued to Maggie’s ultrasound scan and her fingers tenderly brushing the paper, he finds it’s suddenly the only thing he can think about. The corners of her mouth twitch when she gazes at the scan, almost as if she’s going to smile, and there’s a light in her eyes in that moment. A tiny glimmer — a vivid wonder. And Daryl sees that sparkle from where he’s sat and remembers her words from when they were together.

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The Best Dive Watches Under $200

Whether you’re just diving into a huge workload at your desk, or actually spending some time deep underwater, one thing is clear — a dive watch would be great to have on your wrist. You don’t need to be a diver to appreciate these high-performing, beautifully designed, and undoubtedly utilitarian timepieces for everyday use (especially now that summer’s in full swing). In this Carry Smarter guide, you’ll get familiar with the basics of dive watches, what features to look for when buying a diver, and our picks for the best and most affordable options to help you take the plunge into the world of dive watches.

A Crash Course on Dive Watches

The purpose of a dive watch is to monitor how long you’ve been underwater, and more importantly - how much air you have left in your tank. They’ve been around since the turn of the 20th century and continue to be both fashionable and useful today. The quintessential dive watch has an immediately recognizable look. They’re larger in size (around 42mm), feature a rotating bezel, and rest on a metal bracelet or rubber strap. Dive watches are ideal for EDC use because they’re built like tanks, they’re easy to read, and they look just plain cool.

4 Hallmarks of Dive Watches

Water Resistance: If you’re buying a dive watch, it should have proper water resistance. While most watches claim 50m of water resistance, that really means that it will survive hand washes and maybe a shower. When looking at dive watches, 200m (660 feet!) of water resistance is common ground. If you plan on having a watch that will stand up to swimming, showering, and of course, diving - be sure to choose something with a high level of water resistance.

Build Quality: Divers entrust their watches with their lives to be able to know precisely how much time they have underwater. For dive watches, reliable durability and construction are critical. Look for a dive watch with a well-built case, a strong crystal (mineral and sapphire are best), and a good strap or bracelet. A solid dive watch will last for decades if maintained, and you can easily buy an heirloom piece in the $200 range.

Movement: The slight bump in price from our Military Watch Guide opens up more options for the type of movement that powers the watch. Automatic movements are popular in the diver market as they don’t require a battery. Automatic watches “wind” from the motion of your arm, so they’ll keep ticking as long as you keep them on your wrist. Also seen in this class of watches are day/date features, adding to the utility of the timepiece.

Legibility: When underwater, it’s crucial to know exactly how long you’ve been diving. The bezel, a key component of the dive watch, tells you exactly that. The bezel’s “12 o’clock” dot can be rotated to match up with the minute hand to keep track of time. As the minute hand moves, you can see how many minutes have elapsed by reading the bezel number as opposed to the watch face. Dive watches feature large, illuminated indices (the hour and minute markings on the face) that are easy to read. This illumination (or “lume” in the watch world) not only looks awesome, but it helps you quickly tell time when the lights are out.

With the features to look for in a dive watch in mind, here are some of our favorite examples — all coming in at under $200:

The 8 Best Affordable Dive Watches for EDC

Casio MDV106-1A

The Casio MDV106-1A is the most inexpensive watch on this list at well under $200, but Casio didn’t get to where they are today producing cheap, low-quality watches. This watch is a great entry point into the dive watch look without having to commit to the full mechanical experience (and price). Its 45mm case diameter is as big as they come, and its 200m water resistance, screw-down crown, and screw-lock back preserve its Japanese quartz movement from the water. Excellent features for a dive watch at a very affordable price point.

BUY ($40)

Seiko SKX007

The SKX007 is an excellent example of a classic dive watch. This model from Seiko has been around in one form or another for decades. Featuring a mechanical movement and tank-like construction, this capable diver will serve you well for years to come. The large, circular indices are easy to read and the bezel clicks securely in place. The day/date wheel, sweeping seconds hand, and bright lume add up to a stylish watch ideal for everyday wear.

BUY ($174)

Orient CEM65001B “Black Mako”

Orient’s Submariner homage gets everything right. It pays its respects to the quintessential dive watch design, but makes some very attractive tweaks to make it their own. The Arabic numerals, date window, sword hands, and striking red accent on the second hand are all welcome aesthetic choices, enhancing its look without overdoing it. The rest of the watch is solid: stainless steel bracelet, in-house automatic movement, 200m water resistance and mineral crystal window all give great value to the watch as well as the wearer, given how inexpensive it is. The Orient Black Mako is a great starting point to jump into the deep end of dive watches.

BUY ($133)

Timex Expedition T49799

The Timex Expedition series of watches go the extra mile in providing quality timepieces packed with features but not weighed down by price. The T49799 takes the brand under the waves, giving you everything you need for your next dive. The watch itself is beefy, with 44 millimeters of shock-resistant stainless steel sealed, chunky rivets and a mineral crystal window rated for 200m. The signature Timex Indiglo provides ample illumination for dark and murky environments, and its chronograph dials handle all your timing needs. An outer bezel Tachymeter and date window round out the watch’s data features.

BUY ($119)

Seiko SNZH53

This diver is from Seiko’s popular “5 Series” of watches. Each watch in the 5 Series features automatic winding, a day/date display, water resistance, a recessed crown, and a durable case and bracelet. This particular watch features a more vintage look thanks to the wide bezel and thin indices on the face. The dark blue face nicely accents the stainless steel and the transparent casebook allows you to see the mechanical movement in motion. The SNZH53 also comes on a stainless steel bracelet, which adds to the value of this affordable diver.

BUY ($169)

Parnis GMT-Master

Understated excellence is the name of the game for Parnis pieces, and the GMT-Master is winning at it. Only simple and effective components grace the watch, from its scratch-resistant sapphire window to its automatic, hacking movement. Its design pays tribute to the classic dive design, and its stainless steel construction capped with a ceramic bezel ensures that design is preserved against wear and tear. If you want the dive watch quality but prefer not to make waves with aesthetics, this Parnis could be for you.

BUY ($120)

Luminox 3051 EVO Colormark

Developed together with the U.S. Navy Seals, the Luminox 3051 is as rugged as it is striking in appearance. Perfect for low-light environments, its tritium tubes stay visible long after other the strongest paint-on lumes have lost their brightness. Its thick, 44mm polyurethane case protects its Swiss-quartz movement, and its 200m water resistance ensures the 3051 doesn’t spring a leak while in service. Even its face styling is designed to make visibility the priority, with block Arabic numerals painted in bright white contrast to the black case. Eye-catching and tough, Luminox’s flagship 3051 leads the way in underwater timekeeping.

BUY ($197)

Seiko SRP307 “Black Monster”

You can’t have a list about dive watches (regardless of the price) and not mention the Seiko Monster. This timepiece sets the bar for the value you get from an automatic watch, regardless of price or brand. From its mammoth 45mm case design to its reliable 4r36 movement to the most aggressive lume applied on a production watch, the list of its features just goes on and on. This second-generation SRP307 takes all the respectable features of its predecessor and improves on all its former weaknesses. Its second hand can now be stopped (hacked) during adjustment, its crown is easier to grip, it has a more thematic and less complicated face, and they’ve somehow made its lume even brighter. Make no mistake, its nickname is “Monster” for a reason. (Editor’s Note: At the time of writing, the Monster was $200 on the nose. Its price has since fluctuated higher, but it’s still a worthwhile mention for this list.)

BUY ($200)

Words by Ed Jelley, Mikey Bautista, and Bernard Capulong. Photos by Ed Jelley.

anonymous asked:

could you do Adrinette 12 for the writing prompts thingy ?

12: “I don’t see why you’re worried, my family likes you more than me.  I’m not kidding, they told me that.”

(Adrienette is cool so we’ve got another longish one here.  Thanks for the prompt.)

He’d been dating Ladybug for seven months twelve days and roughly sixteen hours.

He’d been (knowingly) dating Marinette for a little over seven hours.

He knew there’d be changes in their relationship after they revealed their identities, he just hadn’t figured that being incapable of basic functions at the mere sight of her to be one of those changes.

He hadn’t counted on her wearing that dress, one that flowed around her hips and hung from braided straps across her shoulders, her hair swept up and out of the way in a bun, laughing at something Alya said as they made their way up to the school.

He heard Nino laugh beside him, felt the elbow to his gut.  “Dude, quit staring at Mari.  Someone’ll think you like her.”

“I do,” he sighed dreamily, a ridiculous smile blossoming on his face.

“What’d you do, Nino?” Alya accused as the girls got close.  Marinette blushed under his stare, but the pink matched her dress and only made her look cuter.  “I think you broke Adrien.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Nino defended, his hands raised as if to ward his girlfriend off.

“Yeah, Al,” Marinette agreed, a devilish smirk stretching out her face.  “I think I’m the one who broke him.”

She punctuated her words by closing the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissing him.

Kissing, thankfully, brought him out of whatever weird state he’d been in, his arms automatically winding around her waist and pulling her closer.

Marinette was ripped away from him, and he stumbled backwards in surprise.  His girlfriend was being held captive by Alya.

“What the hell, Marinette?” she hissed.  “You can’t just cheat on your secret boyfriend like that.”  Marinette shot her a pointed look, and Alya stifled a scream behind her hands.  “Holy shit!  Adrien is your secret boyfriend?”

Nino shoved Adrien in the shoulder.  “Why didn’t you say you were dating Marinette?” he asked, the grin on his face betraying his faux anger.  “And why are you so smiley today?  You didn’t act like this for any of however long you’ve been dating.”

Adrien froze again.  Why was he acting like this today?  Maybe because he’d only found out that Marinette was his girlfriend last night?  Maybe because she was gorgeous and stunning and he’d been too much of an idiot before now?  None of those excuses would work for Nino, and he was at a loss for what to say.

Forutunately, Marinette seemed to be taking this whole thing a lot more smoothly.

“It’s because he’s a dork,” she helpfully supplied, twining her arms back around his neck and rubbing their noses together.

Adrien grinned, pulling her close again.  “Yeah, but I’m your dork.”

Alya gagged, yanking them apart before they could kiss again.  “As much as I’d love to find out why, exactly, you would even think to keep the fact that you’re dating Adrien freaking Agreste a secret from me,” she said, pulling Marinette into the school, “the bell’s about to ring and I do not want to lose time on that chemistry test.”


“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marinette was sending him another worried look and his nod didn’t seem to do anything to convince her.

It was lunchtime now, and, despite having completely forgotten about the chemistry test in favour of preparing for their date the night before and doing some mild (read: major) freaking out because holy shit Ladybug finally wants to reveal her identity, Adrien was pretty confident that he’d aced it.  Now they were all heading back to Marinette’s for lunch–and, knowing Alya and Nino, a solid interrogation–and his girlfriend was definitely not noticing him start to not freak out.

She narrowed his eyes, pulling him to a stop by their conjoined hands just outside the bakery’s door and waving Alya and Nino on.

“We’ll catch up with you in a minute,” she promised, and they watched their friends disappear before she turned back to him.  “Now will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Adrien ran a hand through his hair, letting out a hard breath and turning away.  “It’s stupid,” he said after a long pause.  “Let’s just go inside.”

“Hey.”  Marinette’s hands caught his, rubbing soothing circles into their backs as she stared into his eyes.  “If something’s bugging you, it’s not stupid, okay?  What’s happening, Chaton?”

He sighed, feeling his face heat up.  “It’s just.”  He paused, gesturing to the building with their hands.  “We’re heading in there, and your parents are going to be there.”

Marinette blinked at him, her face scrunching up in confusion.  “So?  You’ve met them before, Adrien,” she pointed out.  “I’m not seeing what the big deal is.”

“But not when I’ve been your boyfriend.  I mean, not when I’ve known I’m your boyfriend.”  He closed his eyes, pulling away to run his hands through his hair.  “I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Marinette insisted, capturing his hands again.  “It makes sense.”  He peeked open his eyes to see her grinning at him.  “But I don’t see why you’re worried.  My family likes you more than me.  I’m not kidding, they told me that.”

Adrien scoffed.  “Like anyone could ever love anyone more than you, Princess.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, ignoring the faint blush that covered her cheeks.  “Please.  You actually like Papa’s puns.  Obviously he’s going to like you more.”

“Your father’s puns are bread-endary,” Adrien insisted, grinning at the look of horror on Marinette’s face.  “Get it?  Like legendary but with bread cause he’s a baker.”

Marinette groaned, pulling him towards the door.  “That was appalling,” she told him.  “Why do I put up with you?”

The door jingled as they made their way inside, and Adrien leaned down to nuzzle against his girlfriend’s cheek.  “Because you love me.”

She sighed.  “That I do.”

“Adrien, my boy!”

He jumped away at the sound of the booming voice, holding his hands up in surrender.

But Tom just grinned down at him, clapping a hand against his shoulder.  “Alya says you’ve finally decided to join the family!”

Sabine smiled from the counter.  “It sure took you two long enough.”

Adrien looked back at Marinette with wide eyes, but his girlfriend just giggled, leaning in to whisper against his ear.

“Told you so.”

Send Me Writing Prompts

The Couch

Also on ff.net | AO3

Summary: Post 4x01, Pre Emma getting trapped in ice with Elsa. Killian and Emma make the most out of another quiet moment.

~oOo~

She’s exhausted

It turns out, tracking down a snow monster creator is very difficult despite the random snow wall that has engulfed the town and the conspicuous trails of ice – all leading to dead ends. Apparently, who or even what they’re dealing with doesn’t want to be found as always

(Seriously, she should be used to this) 

(But she’s not

David is out in the cruiser doing patrols (though they haven’t been practicing this for quite some time, they both agreed it was a necessity in light of a new… foe in Storybrooke) while Mary Margaret is busy with… Neal (Jesus she’s still going to take some time getting used to that) – and struggling, if the agitated baby and feminine sounds coming from the baby monitor perched on the kitchen island are any indications. 

And so she is stuck with dish duty.

Hoo-fucking-ray. 

Though, if she thinks about it, she is saddled with the simplest task of the three. 

But she doesn’t think about it. Instead, she thinks that if it were any other day, Emma would have happily jumped at the chance to do rounds in order to get out of the (too) crowded apartment and have some time to herself, except her bones are still weary from the time travelling she’s done and Granny’s bed felt just a little too big last night and her room just a little too empty now that she has to share Henry again and it’s only been a little over ten hours since the last crisis and she is just so tired she could pass out in the sud-filled sink and…

Drown. 

Yeah, maybe not the sink, she contemplates as she continues scrubbing the last of the dishes. The couch though… 

She loads a bowl into the dryer. 

How can my parents have a dish dryer but not a dishwasher? She continues to wonder. That makes no sense. She scrubs vigorously at a spot of pasta sauce on a plate and grumbles when her muscles ache in protest. Definitely getting them a dishwasher for Christmas. 

She continues in this manner until the clearing of a throat interrupts her from her thoughts and she is whirling around, clutching at anything from within the sink and poised to attack. 

“Oh dear,” he says, “it seems you’ve found my weakness.” 

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