d shot

That’s disgusting

Warning: RPF

You did the take for the fifteenth time that day. At this point you wanted to smack Jensen and Jared for messing up the shots on purpose. You knew they were pranking Misha, knowing that every time they had to redo the shot he’d have to take another bite of a burger since they were focusing on him for this shot. Normally you would be laughing right along with them, but you were standing next to Misha in the shot, so whenever they had to start over you had to say your lines again.

Misha had just taken another bite of the burger when Jared blatantly threw a burger wrapper at Misha, the wrapper bouncing off of his head and effectively ruining the shot. The director called cut and you heard him ask Jensen and Jared to come over to him. You couldn’t help but snicker, knowing that they were in trouble for screwing up the shot too many times.

You looked over at Misha to laugh at the boys misfortune but he had a face you couldn’t quite read. He looked like he was about to get sick but was fighting it.

“You okay there Mish?” You asked, lightly placing your hand on his shoulder.

“I might throw up.” He stated.

“How many burgers have you eaten?” You questioned him.

“He’s eaten,” Tracy, one of the crew members started, “Well, he’s bitten into at least seventeen burgers.”

“That’s disgusting.” You said.

“I hate them.” Misha joked, giving you a sad puppy face.

“I know Mish-Mish, I know.”

Hermione & Wanda, Magic

for @probablyunnecessary

Hermione peered over at Wanda, watching as the red tendrils she’d shot out from her fingers picked up the tea pot and brought it smoothly over to the table where they were.  It clattered a little when it hit the table, but it was otherwise unharmed.  

“Remarkable…” she whispered. “You’re using man-made magic…fascinating…”  

Wanda shrugged.  “It’s not as smooth as yours.”  

“No, I wouldn’t imagine so. It’s a bit like…using one of those claw machines to pick up a toy as opposed to just using your hand…still, though…very, very impressive.”  

anonymous asked:

Honestly I'm terrified and confused right now, but I thought I'd give this a shot. Does anyone remember a masculine fledgling angel with green eyes and brown hair? I don't know who I am or what I am, but I keep seeing visions of someone named Gabriel so that must mean something. Thank you so much

^^ (maybe you were close with gabriel!! he’s one of the archangels!!)

-mod hae

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If Ben & Sophie were in a 1970s movie together

Thicker Than Water

Alternatively title “That One Weird Uncle.”
Admin Ammy here, presenting a nifty little one-shot for my pirate AU. :D Would also like to note that this was also me practicing with characters I haven’t written much so I’d appreciate constructive criticism plz and thanks.
Trigger Warnings
: Um… none that I’m aware of?
Characters: Allen Walker, Neah D. Campbell (© Katsura Hoshino)
Summary: Allen was sure of only one thing now: the pirate Neah D. Campbell was strange.

There were certain benefits to being part of the Black Order.

Officers from the Black Order were afforded certain privileges, such as the right to board any ship without prior approval (as long as they were dressed in proper uniform while boarding) or easy access to certain information that other naval officers were not privy to.

But tonight, Allen Walker was mostly happy about the private quarters he got when he was sent on assignment aboard a regular naval ship.

Somehow—and he suspected his tan-coated handlers for this slip—word had spread to the crew that he was under investigation by the Order.

They hadn’t said anything to him directly, but he wasn’t oblivious, nor were they subtle. They had whispered as he passed, uttering ‘pirate’ or ‘bastard’ or any other insult they could come up (and what sailor didn’t have a vocabulary overflowing with foul names?).

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Originally posted by agustd

[Sharing in a selfish night with Suga]
Rated: Mature/Angst

Why was he always here?

There was this cafe in Hongdae. A pretty popular little place that had these work rooms that were perfect for writing, and reading.

He hated crowds.

He hated cafes.

And worst off he hated you.

He hated how you always looked at him. Constantly checking in on him, as if he was some kind of charity case. You made him feel pitiful. Especially when you’d ask him if he was ok. There was just something about your tone. It was almost too calm, too tender, and too gentle. 

It was how his therapist talked to him.

And he didn’t need that kind of pity. Not from you.

He stared at his americano before emptying his flask into it and mixing it with the straw. Almost on queue you poked your head inside. “Yoongi-ah…” you smiled softly. “Do you need anything?”

He scoffed and took a swig. “I’m fine.”

You nodded and cast down your gaze. “Well if you need anything…”

“I don’t.” he snapped.

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