except for there are tears

anonymous asked:

I don't even drink I'm not old enough why do I keep having thoughts about alcohol EXCEPT-! Plz imagine situations reversed where Sides get drunk and everybody would expect him to be a Happy Drunk except PSYCHE he starts wailing about how much the war sucks and everything's so hard and awful and he hates it, "you could have been an ARTIST, Sunny! You LIKED DRAWING-" "Alright someone help me move him before Sunstreaker comes in and thinks we drugged him." "YOU DID WHAT TO MY BROTHER."

Everyone is ready for extreme happy party fun Sideswipe doubled, except nope it’s ‘oh god he’s crying. Are those tears? OH HES SOBBING NOW’

Sideswipe is just babbling on about how much he hates the war. How it took everything away from Sunstreaker. And how he just wants everything to go back to normal.

Everyone is freaking out trying to calm him down, because god knows they’d all be dead if Sunstreaker found them.

“WE DIDN’T DRUG HIM.”

“WHY IS HE CRYING”

*HIGH PITCHED WAILING^

sorry but ratatouille’s ending is such a perfect ending. i gotta be honest: even with movies i adore, the ending doesn’t tend to be my favorite part, even when they are good. i’m usually all for the middle, the journey, the action. 

but this fucking ending is an exception. just put it on and i’ll tear up over that brilliant representation of how just one little thing (such as a simple bite of simple food) can bring back the most nostalgic childhood memories full force, in an instant. that great speech by ego, where he finally understands what gusteau really meant when he said that anyone can cook. that cozy little restaurant they end up opening. that beautiful, soothing song in french. ego, no longer a respected critic but clearly much happier, walking into the restaurant knowing the truth and asking remy, ‘surprise me!’, just. it’s so good. i love it.

female writers + beautiful quotes (based on their actual sign)

*IN HONOR OF INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY*

ARIES: Maya Angelou (Pisces Mercury in the 8th House)

“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I’ll rise!”

TAURUS: Charlotte Brontë (Aries Mercury in the 8th House)

“I do not think, sir, you have any right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.”

GEMINI: Gwendolyn Brooks (Taurus Mercury in the 9th House)

“It is lonesome, yes. For we are the last of the loud. Nevertheless, live. Conduct your blooming in the noise and whip of the whirlwind.”

CANCER: Anna Akhmatova (Gemini Mercury)

“The whole time I was hoping my silence would fit yours and exclamation marks would gently float across time and space so that boundaries would be crossed; the whole time I was praying you would read my eyes and understand what I was never able to understand. See, we were never about butterflies. We’ve always been about burning stars. All about us is unearthly and radiant.”

LEO: J.K. Rowling (Virgo Mercury in the 7th House)

“The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing.”

VIRGO: Dorothy Parker (Leo Mercury in the 4th House)

“If I didn’t care for fun and such, I’d probably amount to much. But I shall stay the way I am, because I do not give a damn.”

LIBRA: Marina Tsvetaeva (Libra Mercury)

“I want to sleep with you, fall asleep and sleep. That magnificent folk word, how deep, how true, how unequivocal, how exactly what it says. Just – sleep. And nothing more. No, another thing: and know right into the deepest sleep that it is you. And more: how your heart sounds. And – kiss your heart.”

SCORPIO: Anne Sexton (Libra Mercury)

“Give me your skin as sheer as a cobweb. Let me open it up and listen in and scoop out the dark.”

SAGITTARIUS: Jane Austen (Sagittarius Mercury in the 3rd House)

“I hate to hear you talk about all women as if they were fine ladies instead of rational creatures. None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives.”

CAPRICORN: Simone de Beauvoir (Capricorn Mercury in the 2nd House)

“I am awfully greedy; I want everything from life. I want to be a woman and to be a man, to have many friends and to have loneliness, to work much and write good books, to travel and enjoy myself, to be selfish and to be unselfish… You see, it is difficult to get all which I want. And then when I do not succeed I get mad with anger.”

AQUARIUS: Virginia Woolf (Aquarius Mercury in the 10th House)

“Better was it to go unknown and leave behind you an arch, then to burn like a meteor and leave no dust.” 

PISCES: Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Pisces Mercury in the 6th House)

“What we call Life is a condition of the soul. And the soul must improve in happiness and wisdom, except by its own fault. These tears in our eyes, these faintings of the flesh, will not hinder such improvement.”

siliconereptilian  asked:

What the heck even is this cartoon? Is it some sort of off-brand thing that barely skirted around copyright, like Dingo Pictures, or is it an actual legit Beatles thing that had official approval/endorsement from the Beatles?

horrifyingly enough, it was a legitimate beatles production. They all hated it except george

as you can see here, ringo is trying not to burst into tears while he avoids looking at the offensive and crude depiction of himself looming behind him

process tutorial y/n?

I realise I’m making this post at a wonky hour of the night but

I’ve been scrolling through my ask box and seen a recurring question about what my approach to starting and completing a piece of artwork is and wondered

if I cut together a step-by-step tutorial of sorts, would you guys wanna see that? I’d piece it together as a photoset with annotations explaining my process (a lot of it is me giving myself neck strain cus I forget Rotate is a tool option) and take u through the key points :D

Leave a comment on this post or something if it’s something you think’d be helpful!!
I’ll be focusing primarily on: Rough > Sketch > Lineart > Block Colour >Shade/Light (but briefly on this because my shading/lighting detail depends a LOT on how tired I am lolol)

Imagine

Here’s my meta about the last clip of episode 5.

  • Our intro shot of the karaoke bar introduces our players. I’m especially interested in how we see Mari and Sara twice each (and sharing one shot).
  • May I just say: I am glad my son Eskild is alive and Extra.
  • We have Chris talking to Sara (we don’t see Sara’s face but it’s her jumper) 👀
  • In general we have a big focus on couples (including Evak) and russebussen people. Showing, again, this season’s themes (love and identities/belongings).
  • We have some Chris and Eva talking about wiring money, which seems like foreshadowing to the russebuss contract and payment.
  • Even is about to sing and no one ships Evak more than Magnus.
  • @newlevelofdesperate​ wrote a great meta about Even singing “Imagine” by John Lennon. I agree with most of it.
    I’ll just add that the song is ironic, just like “I’m Not In Love” in s3e5. “Imagine all the people living life in peace.” Sana is feeling the song at the moment. She feels that everything came together, finally. But it’s not true. She wished she could create world peace (if you gave her the power to do so she would, she really would). But she can’t. Some things are beyond her reach and she still hasn’t managed to reconcile her two identities (Norwegian & Muslim).
    Also, I think the song is as much an Even song as a Sana one. Once again.
  • We barely see Mikael walk in, and Elias and the gang look around. Yousef seems to be looking in the crowd for Sana. 
  • No shot of the squad until we get a shot of Even seeing them. Then Magnus and Jonas turn to see where Even is looking (not Isak or Mahdi) and we get another shot of balloon squad: no Mikael. Adam and Mutta seem unconcerned. Elias though sees Even and is not smiling (but he’s not looking mad either).
    He grabs Yousef who was smiling towards Sana and…the smile falters.

[this is getting long so I’m adding a “read more”]

Keep reading

“Oliver said there’s an ARGUS plane on the other side of the island.” Felicity.

“It’ll take us all day to get there.” Diggle. “Anything could happen to Chase to set off the explosives.”

“Oliver said he wouldn’t kill him,” Felicity said, hanging on stubbornly to her optimism.

“Yeah, but that still doesn’t guarantee the explosives won’t go off,” Dinah chipped in.

“I still think we should wait for Oliver,” Quentin said. “If anything, we should look for his son.”

Samantha perked up. “I’m on board with that plan.”

Slade listened to all the chatter with half an ear as they each tried to come up with a plan. He remained silent, not because he had no opinion, but because he felt something. In his gut. Something wrong.

The short hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, his heart hammered in his chest. There was definitely something wrong, and that something wrong was coming fast.

“We have to go underground,” he shouted, silencing everyone.

They all turned as one to stare at him.

“Why?” Rene asked.

Without answering, Slade ran toward the only place he knew would be safe, not waiting for the others to follow. After a beat, he heard rapid footsteps behind him, but he kept his concentration on looking for one thing.

The entrance to an ARGUS prison block.

Slade had spent the last three years in a cell on the other side of the island, but if he knew ARGUS, he knew that they would be thorough. There was bound to be another block on this side.

“Where are you taking us?” Thea called out from behind him.

Slade didn’t answer.

“Slade!” Diggle shouted.

At last, Slade saw something metal rising out of the ground in the distance, maybe 400 metres away. His pace sped up as gooseflesh crawled up his neck.

“Run!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Run like the devil is on your heels!”

Sweat popped out on his brow as they finally reached the entrance. He wasted no time in wrenching the door open. “Get in!”

No one moved, to his everlasting frustration.

“We need to look for William!” Samantha cried.

“And the plane,” Rene added.

Slade grit his teeth and growled, “Get. In. Now.”

A grave look appeared on Diggle’s face, finally catching Slade’s bad feeling, and ushered Felicity before him. “Get in,” he repeated, and finally, they all began to move.

No sooner had Slade shut and locked the lid that the ground beneath them shook violently, throwing him off the ladder. Explosions sounded overhead, through the thick concrete. The floor shook as the shockwave reached them, but the walls held firm.

“Go deeper,” he commanded, getting up from the floor. “Through that door and down the hall, there’s a stairwell at the end. That will take us lower.”

They all turned to go, except for Felicity, who stood with her hand over her mouth and tears swimming in her eyes.

“Oliver…” she whispered.

Slade approached her slowly, getting in her field of view. “He’s gonna be all right,” he said, attempting to reassure her. “Kid’s got more than nine lives. He’s more worried about us, I’d wager.”

She blinked up at him, as if just realizing he was in front of her. After a tense moment, she nodded, and turned to follow the others.

Slade took one look back at the door above his head. “You better not make a liar out of me, kid,” he said, before following the others into the bunker.

Love Covers.

Part of my hospital chaplaincy duties is to write a reflection on how it’s going. Identities may be altered for privacy. All the writings are here.


I’ve seen love. I mean, pure love. The kind that builds you, that bursts wide open and free, the kind they tell you about, but you were afraid to believe.

A nine-year-old boy comes into the trauma bay with deep, jagged lacerations all over his back. Car accident, roll-over; dad and children nearly ejected, going fifty. His shirt is shredded. His back is really torn up, almost ribbons in several places, blood filling his shorts. He’s fidgeting, squirming, but not from his wounds. He’s trying to sit up, eyes darting, looking for someone. He’s trying to tell something to the paramedics, to the nurses and doctors, to me. 

Medicine, he says in a choked whisper, medicine for my sister. She has a new kidney. Medicine.

A second later, his four year old sister is wheeled in—they had been in the same car accident. She’s in shock. Her brother keeps saying, Medicine, for my sister. She needs her kidney medicine.

A nurse replies, “On it. I’m on it, little man.”

I go to the nine year old, pull up a seat, and tell him, “You’re a good brother.”

“Thanks,” he says, finally resting his head. The nurses move around us, not missing a beat, and there’s just me and the kid, eyes locked, his eyes on fire.

“What happened?” I ask him.

“I heard the car inside make a boom, like a firecracker,” he says. “I knew something was wrong. I knew it! I grabbed my sister … and I put myself around her, because … because I didn’t want glass to get in her face.”

I remember his back. The lacerations. 

Suddenly, I’m crying. I lose all professionalism. I’m just crying.

“You’re a hero,” I tell him. “You saved your sister’s life.”

“But her medicine?” he asks. “You’ll make sure she gets it? She takes it everyday for her kidney. It was the one that I gave her.”

“Yes,” I tell him, trying to smile through flooded eyes. “Yes. You’re a good brother,” I say again. “What’s your name?”

He says, “Angel.”

Of course it is.

I sit with him, quietly, as the medical team begins to work on his back. He makes no noise, except to ask how his sister is doing. 

I hold back tears. I feel angry, that something like this had to happen to Angel and his sister, that we live in such a world where no child is safe from destiny, from fate, from the universe, from God, where kidneys don’t work and cars roll over—but I think about Angel covering his sister, and that on our tiny fractured little spinning rock in the random cold chaos of meaningless collision, where the world can explode in glass, one child didn’t hesitate to die for love. I think it is awful that they have to be here in this hospital, but my heart stretches to this other place, where love is powerful and real, and that within lawless disorder, very beautiful things can still happen, and that perhaps pure love must be born through pain, through the life of another. 

— J.S.

All Over Again

The first time he falls in love with Otabek Altin, he was sixteen years old.

Of all places, it was in Hasetsu. His fingers fumbled with the chopsticks in his hand, and the Kazakh took notice of it. His smile and his words were gentle, humouring, as he placed his hand on top of the Russian’s. Step by step, careful movements, a mother’s tutorial.

“Perfect, Yura.”

There had been something wrong with his heart right then; because just like his jumps on the ice, it flipped inside of his chest - it was a sensation all too powerful and consuming, unfamiliar and terrifying to the boy during the height in the Era of ‘What-the-fuckery’ of teenage years. He had to double check. Triple. Quad. At five his heart would wrench so tightly in his chest he had to excuse himself to leave. 

He didn’t remember where he went. 

It was somewhere on the ice when he found himself breathing steadily, his thoughts somewhere else. Somewhere where it was raining. It was always raining somewhere else. 

Keep reading

BTS’s reaction to you playing their song on the piano:

A/N: Here you are, sweetie ❤️ I really hope you enjoy it! Hopefully it’s as filled full of feels as you wanted~


Jin: Jin pricks his ears, and listens to the melodious chords fluttering to his ears. You haven’t played the piano in a while. It’s good to finally hear the dusty old instrument in use. He heads towards the sound, before a bout of realisation has him stopping at the door, where just inside he can see your curved figure leaning over the keys, sweeping the music along with your fingers. He knows this tune. It’s his tune - ‘Awake’.

And without any warning - no cracking or breaking, just out of the blue, like thunder in June - tears well up in his eyes, and shimmer to the brink of spilling over. Of all the songs you could have picked, you picked the one he needs to hear. He can still remember the emotions that tumbled through him when he first sang this song: the desperation he felt to keep up with his six brothers, the terror he recoiled from, a fear of falling behind. Yet, here he is, years later, still trembling and afraid, but trying hard to mask it – reduced to tears behind the living room door. Except… no. Things have changed. Back then, he didn’t have you – you, who keep his chin up, and his eyes fixed firmly on the clouds. You, who believe without an inkling of a doubt that he can go further, stretch farther, and climb higher than he ever realised. You, who everyday whisper to him, ‘Kim Seokjin, how luck am I to have you?’ Really, he should be the one asking you. After all, if it weren’t for you, he’d still be on the ground, tear-dampened gaze filtering to fickle mist-clouds he could never reach. Now, here he is, flying – soaring – because of you. Up past blue and into the star sprinkled black of space.

The tears are falling now, but they feel good – warm and wet like a spring shower. It’s been a while since he cried - properly, like this. He opens the door, and you turn in your seat to face him, and when he holds out his arms, you run to him, and burrow into his heat. While you rest your head in the crook between his shoulder and his neck, he sings the rest of the tune in low tones. “Maybe I can’t touch the sky, but I’ll stretch my arm.”

Originally posted by snowyjin


Yoongi: It has been a tough day for Min Yoongi. He’s been sat in the studio all afternoon, all evening, and well into the night, fiddling on his laptop, trying to get the latest track just right. When he closes his eyes, he can still see the square of light from his screen, burned in blue onto his retina. He arrives back at his house, completely drained of energy, only to be greeted by a gentle wave of music when he opens the door. And despite all the muscles in his face being past their stretching point, they still manage to push up into a smile when he hears you tinkling away on the piano, playing a song he produced (of course, nothing else would do for you), playing something he hasn’t heard in a while - ‘Tomorrow’.

You stop playing when you hear him enter the room, peeking over your shoulder at his tired face.

“Please continue,” he rasps.

Your brows tip up in concern, sensing how tired he is, but you return to your music without pressing him with a ‘how was your day?’. In a few steps he’s sitting down on your right-hand side, and his fingers fitting into the groves of the worn ivory keys, he unfolds a gentle harmony in the treble cleft.

You continue on, the both of you enraptured in the music, until Yoongi’s playing fades away, and as you turn to him, wondering why he’s stopped, his head lolls onto your shoulder. Smiling, you brush a few stray wisps of hair away from his face. “Tired?”

He nods into your shoulder, eyes closing as you pick up the tune again, slower and more lullaby-like.

“Rest all you want,” you tell him, “I’m not letting you go back to work, until I know you’ve fully recovered.” Then, as he slowly slips into sleep, you whisper the lyrics from ‘Tomorrow’ he needs to hear most: “Wherever you are right now, you’re just taking a break. Don’t give up… Don’t get too far away, tomorrow.”

Originally posted by sugagifs


Hoseok: Outside, the wind whisks up a torrent of leaves, clattering in shades of frozen amber against your window, but inside, cut off from the cold autumn storm, it glows with warmth, drenched in the heat of love and affection – mainly Hoseok’s love and affection, directed at you. As you sit at the piano, running through a soft re-imagining of ‘Autumn Leaves’, he watches in appreciation, head resting in his hands, breath snatched away at the way your fingers ghost across the keys, eyes half-closed, drowned in the melody.

As the final chords hang in the air, Hoseok rouses himself from the trance you have placed him in and begins clapping in appreciation – the sole audience member in this private concert. “Wow! Y/N, just… wow! That was… wow….” He tries to search for a word to aptly describe the feelings you have stirred in him, but nothing surfaces, so instead, he crosses the distance between you, and expresses himself with a gentle hand on your cheek and a breathy kiss that presses warmth into your lips.

When he pulls away, your fingers reach out, wanting him back – and, smiling, he obliges, balancing on the edge of the piano stool so he can be that extra bit closer to you.

With the first pitter-patters of rain starting up outside, Hoseok starts up another kind of storm with you – flurries of kisses dropping down onto your skin. As the leaves fall, you fall in love.

Originally posted by joeguk


Namjoon: Sometimes, Namjoon really doesn’t like himself. When it’s late in the evening, and the light’s fading, he really doesn’t like himself. When he’s wasted away the day, erasing work, rather than progressing, he really doesn’t like himself. When he can’t force a smile without cracking, he really doesn’t like himself.

But, at least he’s coming home to you. And he knows that, despite all the negativity that’s oozing through him like sewage water, you love him. Even in moments of doubt, like right now, when he arrives home, faded, and ghostly, and wondering if he’s likeable, he hears you wandering through chords on the piano, and he knows that you know. Because he recognises the song – ‘Reflection’. It’s your reminder that it’s okay – all of it.

He leans back against the door as the familiar notes hit him – spine pressing to the wood and head tilting back till he’s gazing up at the grey ceiling. There may be no words, but each jump of your fingers across the black and ivory keys speaks to him. He hears. He understands.

After a few moments, after a few deep breaths, he feels himself – his real self – float back into his body, and he’s ready to greet you. He steps forward, into the light of the music room, where you shift to glance at him out of the corner of your eyes. The music keeps on spinning out. He smiles at you, and you smile back, and that’s all it takes for Namjoon to like himself like you love him.

Originally posted by myloveseokjin


Jimin: “Forever we are young, amidst the scattering rain of flower petals I run, wandering through this maze.” Jimin can’t help but sing the last few lines of the familiar song while you rest upon the final chords on the piano.

Turning to him, eyes shining bright, you say, “Your singing still sounds as beautiful as it did when you first sang this song.”

Jimin heaves out a sigh. “That was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” His mind flickers back to those days, an eternity ago (try a few years, but they feel infinite), when you didn’t exist in his life. So many things have changed since then. He’s changed since then.

Sensing a shift in his mood, you reach out your hands to him, hoping for a hold on his uncertain frame, quivering on the edge of being lost to remembering. In answer to your silent plea, he steps closer and winds his arms around your shoulders. You ground him back in reality with your head resting on his chest.

“It wasn’t so long ago…” you murmur.

“Sure feels like it though.” Stifling thoughts begin clinging onto Jimin, realisations of how far on his life has progressed, how much closer he is to stepping off the cusp of youth… realisations that the lyrics of the song you played can’t be true. He won’t be young forever, and neither will you. It terrifies him.

You stretch your neck to gaze up at him. “We’re still young,” you assure him, “And even when we grow old, and get grey-haired and wrinkly, we’ll stay young – on the inside at least. All I need is you by my side, and I feel like I could stay vibrant and strong for the rest of my life.”

How is it that you always know what to say? Jimin swallows down his foul-tasting fears and kisses the top of your head. “Young forever, you and me.”

Originally posted by lonastic


Taehyung: As you drift through the dream-enhancing chords, sat over the piano, Taehyung stands on the other side of the door, enraptured and enwrapped by your playing. When the final notes peel away into a calm quiet, he opens the door to be greeted by your smile.

“Just One Day?” Taehyung asks, although he doesn’t need an answer from you – he recognises the melody like he recognises the freckles on your face.

“Did you like my arrangement of it?”

“Like it?” Taehyung flops down onto the nearby sofa, and motions for you to join him, “Like it? I adored it.”

“I adore you,” you counter, abandoning the piano stool to find a comfier spot with Taehyung, perched above him, legs straddling his waist. Your hair falls down around your shoulders and, as you lean towards Taehyung, it cuts off the rest of the world, encasing the two of you in your own existence.

Taehyung’s hands reach up to cup your face, and when you close your eyes to his touch, he stretches up to kiss your eyelids. In parting his lips from your skin, he murmurs, “I never really understood the lyrics of that song until I met you.”

“What? ‘Just One Day’?”

He nods, bumping his nose against yours in the process. “I never understood the desperate need to be with someone, even if it was only for one day. But then I saw you, and suddenly it made sense. I got the feeling that even if I could only be with you for one day, one hour, even one second, that would be enough for me. It’s like my purpose is to be with you.”

You felt the sting of tears as they jumped up behind your lids, but you refused to let them fall. “I suppose it’s a good thing we have more than one day then.”

Originally posted by mayfifolle


Jungkook: Poised on your doorstep, Jungkook takes a deep breath and steps forward to knock.

And pauses.

The last time he saw you, you had been in floods of tears, both of you shouting things you didn’t mean. Now he’s outside, wanting to apologise, to go back to how it used to be. But he’s scared. He’s terrified. And he can’t bring himself to make a move.

That is until he hears the strains of a piano playing, wafting through an open window. Those chords are familiar – ‘Love is not over’. On recognising the song, he slowly breaks down – like a lump of sugar dissolving in coffee, one second he’s solid and the next he’s disappearing, forgetting himself and slipping over into tears. He can’t bear to be apart from you any longer, and judging by your playing, neither can you. Not caring how much of a mess his face is, puffy and red, striped with tear-tracks, he knocks. And after a few seconds you answer. Your face is a mirror of his, just as cracked, just as damp.

“I’m sorry…” is all you can say before he pulls you into a tight hug that squeezes all the air out of you, and he’s murmuring in your ear, “Me too. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Just like that it’s okay again. With the two of you, things can never truly be finished – you can never truly be done with each other. Love will never be over, and so long as you’re breathing, you’ll be together.

Originally posted by jungkookfortunekookies


! I did not make the gifs !

thnksfrthmemrs  asked:

no idea if you've seen fma or not but like. shiro getting his nerves reconnected to his arm. vomiting, screaming, the works

okay, so I kinda went the opposite direction with the arm thing… *shrugs* 

Keith wants to run.

He’s never wanted to run from anything more in his entire life. But he doesn’t. He can’t. 

So he grits his teeth and keeps a firm grip on his friend’s flesh arm. His eyes flicker over to Lance. The other boy is gray and more somber than Keith can ever remember seeing him. He winces, breathing hard through his nose as the body they’re holding down between them bucks violently.

Pidge was helping Hunk at first but the situation has overwhelmed her. The screaming is getting to everyone and she was the first to succumb. She scooted back against a corner a while ago, staring with wet, shell-shocked eyes; she’s barely moved at all, except for the rocking. Tears stream silently down her cheeks and Keith wants so badly to comfort her, to tell her it’s going to be all right. Except that he doesn’t know if it is.

“Guys, you’ve got to hold him steady,” Hunk instructs from his crouched position beside the make-shift stretcher. His voice is calm, despite how much he’s sweating; despite the pressure on his shoulders to fix their friend and make the screaming stop.

Shiro opens his mouth again and Keith braces himself. But the older boy just arches his neck, glassy eyes searching frantically until Keith slides into his line of vision.

He’s trying to say something, but his voice is so broken and raw from the pain, the sounds are incoherent wheezes of clogged air. Shiro hasn’t been with them for a long time.

“Hey,” Keith presses one hand against the curve of Shiro’s jaw. “It’s almost over. It is. Hunk’s fixing you up, okay? Just hold on.”

Keep reading

never let me go pt. 1

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook

Genre: angst, implied smut (with eventual smut)

Word Count: 10,064

A/N: This is a reworked version of the piece I had originally posted. Based on the novel of the same name.

Originally posted by jengkook

You stood at the river’s edge and stared out across the black water. Your eyes caught in a daze wondering what your life was like if you had just been born like everyone else. What your life would be like if you had come from a womb instead of test tube. You had always dreamed of crossing the other side, to see what life was like outside of the city you were placed in. But as you thumbed the folded piece of paper in your pocket you knew that you would never get the chance.

You slipped the paper from the confines of your pocket and re-read it for the 55th time. Your first donation was scheduled a week from tomorrow. You had to report to the hospital in 5 days for preparations and blood work to make sure that your perfectly created body was still perfect.

Jungkook’s smile flashed before your eyes and a lump caught in your throat making it hard to hold back the sobs that were trying to escape your lips. He was waiting for you back at the hospital. It was after all, the eve of his second donation. Even though you had been through this process almost a hundred times before, it still made your whole body shake with nerves.

And now it was your turn.

You looked at the paper in your hand and over to the black water lapping at your feet. You adjusted your feet against the chain link fence, the only barrier between you and the unknown, and leaned forward. You watched as the paper floated on the surface of the water but didn’t sink. You gripped one hand on the railing and the other reached forward.

The silver bracelet on your wrist suddenly came alive as your hand hit the floating paper. The cold water stung your fingertips as the alarm from your wrist echoed through the night. You pulled back and planted your feet back on the earth beneath you. But the beeping didn’t stop.

It wasn’t long before the sound of tires pulled up behind you. You didn’t turn around as their footsteps approached, you being the target. One of them cleared their throat and you finally turned around to the face the men that had come to collect you. “It’s time to go, Y/N. Jungkook is going to be worried about you” the man told you.

You cocked your head to the side and scoffed, “So the rumors are true, watchers do exist”

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Bring your daughter to work day.

Being a single dad and having a job as demanding as Spencer’s was not easy, but when he saw the little smile on his daughter’s face or felt the way her fist would wrap around his finger, it was all worth it. 

In which Spencer gets called into work on what is supposed to be his day off, and it’s so last minute that he has to bring his four month old daughter, Harper, with him.

a/n: based off of this request, i’m making this a series of one shots about spencer and harper so this is the first installment. gif credit to toyboxboy.

Spencer’s hand came down to rest upon his baby girl’s head, he cradled Harper in his arms and as always was overwhelmed with joy and love. She had finally fallen asleep after hours of crying and she now looked peaceful– seemed as though a bottle had done the trick.

Spencer felt as though he was way in over his head since he was a single dad but he was already great at it and had at least some faith in himself. He was off for a few days and could handle it at the moment to get himself together.

Spencer’s phone rang, the shrill sound taking Harper from her peaceful sleep and immediately causing her to burst into tears. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he silently cursed whoever was calling for waking up his baby girl, he was just as tired as she was after a night of not much sleep. 

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I’m trying to lighten up my blog a bit so here’s the old playground!au:

  • first, picture everyone as tiny children
    • Riko is that one kid who takes being “king of the castle” too seriously and he’s always hogging the slides and being a general butt
    • Kevin and Jean go to day care with him, so they’re kinda just going along with it
    • all of the Foxes are pretty fed up with Riko but what can they do?? they get caught trying to beat his swarmy ass into the the sand and they’re grounded
    • of course Riko ends up throwing a tantrum anyways and pushes Kevin and Jean off the play structure
    • the good news is that kids bounce
    • the bad news is that Jean ended up bumping his head and Kevin twisted his wrist and now everyone has to go home and get yelled at for playing too rough
    • the next day Kevin joins the Foxes
    • Jean, perhaps for the best, wanders away and gets invited into the sand pit with the Trojans, who are 500% more civilized and are currently in the process of burying Alvarez
    • meanwhile, the Foxes are determined to take down Riko
    • Dan draws all of them into a huddle and gives probably the most dramatic speech to ever grace the playground:
    • “win because you don’t know how to lose. this king’s ruled long enough - it’s time to tear his castle down.”
    • except, y’know, it’s this tiny kindergartner saying it, surrounded by other tiny kindergartners, and basically they just all climb onto the playground structure and ignore Riko’s yelling
    • the final standoff is between Kevin and Riko as Kevin dramatically shoves Riko down the slide and refuses to let him back up
    • and honestly, the Foxes aren’t impressed with Kevin’s pushiness either (Andrew least of all), but whatever, they’re going home in an hour, it doesn’t really matter

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