fly me from the moon

Father’s Day

A Father’s Day picnic.

That’s what your baby girl wanted to do for Niall. Last month at her preschool her teacher had organized a family picnic one weekend, and it’s all that she could talk about for a full week—it was a nice break from all the Doc McStuffins and Sofia The First talk, but you were going to have to organize a picnic real soon before she started a revolt.

That morning you and Niall were woken up bright and early by your little one. She was a complete daddy’s girl, and Father’s Day was quite possibly the closest thing to Christmas without it actually being Christmas—the first few years she didn’t quite understand it, but now that she was four (therefore all grown up) she knew what it meant and was determined to do it perfectly.

Your eyes fluttered open that morning to the squeals and kisses being exchanged between Niall and your daughter, and your heart could have burst with love right there and then. Half an hour later the three of you were in the kitchen making breakfast together—you tried to insist on Niall staying in bed as long as he wanted, but he refused.

“Wanna spend some time with my girls,” he had said, pressing a kiss to your daughter’s head. “Why would I wanna be stuck in bed all morning and miss out on all the loving?”

Keep reading

Everything is alright (tweethearts. Lin x reader)

{A/N: you thought you were safe….that these would be cute and fluff…no sir! I want your tears! The feed me… i wrote this while listening to ‘everythings alright’ from the fly me to the moon soundtrack listen to it if you wanna cry while reading this…tagging those who’s tears i need to fuel me…
@secretschuylersister @maybe-mikala @imagineham @writingiseasier @icanneverbesatisfied feed me your tears they are delicious!*

Doctor visits….💉💊😕
*photo of you sitting on a hospital bed, IV in arm, smiling at lin*

Bad news…..chemo starts next week…

*next week*
Shes stronger then anyone i know….
*photo of you smiling while you have treatment, holding a thumbs up*

My mom is amazing, she is our anchor through this
*photo of you with lins mom, her hand rubbing your back, head on yours*

Damn she looks beautiful…hair or not! 🔥🔥🔥🔥💃💃😘😘😘
*photo of you in the bathroom door frame, no hair smiling*

Sleepy…sleepy sleep
*photo of you asleep on lins lap at the hospital*

So…emergency trip to the hospital…twitter is keeping me from pacing a hole in the floor…

She woke up…bloody nose….like a lot of blood…puking….it was bad…

My life…shes all i need….
*photo of lin holding your hand, IV sticking out,*

*one month later*
So…i’ve been away from you guys…loss needs time to heal…

She was my life…my world….and shes gone…
*photo of your grave stone,*

Through tears…she made this for me…god….i love her
*video of you singing 'everything’s alright’ on your hospital bed*

Until we meet again….wait for me….on the moon….
*photo of you and lin, in front of a background of stars and woods*

Moonie Ch. 3

Hello, lovelies! I’ve posted this on my blog, but I thought I’d put it here in case my post got lost in the ether. This community is so fun and inviting. I hope you all enjoy!

Click here for Chapter One!

Click here for Chapter Two!

It isn’t hard to get lost in the Elsewhere University Library.

One minute, you’re looking for a window seat on the second floor. The next, you discovered a staircase you hadn’t noticed before, and find yourself in a maze of unfamiliar offices and bookshelves that aren’t organized in any particular way. It’s just something about the library. The layout makes no practical sense. If you don’t stick to the well-tread paths, you wind up finding a table with a wobbly leg squeezed inside a tight maze of bookshelves.

That’s where the Librarian had sent me.

The shelves of the northwest corner on the third floor were packed so close together, I had to take my backpack off so that I could slip between them. Books filled every inch of space, forming solid walls of written knowledge. It was as if I were entering some fortress of learning, or the Temple of Doom. I began to wonder why the Librarian had recommended a spot so secluded. Were my scattered thoughts so apparent?

As I slid through the narrow opening between the shelves, my nose passed inches away from a row of books. I squinted at the unusual titles. The Thirteen Principles of Wish-making, Faire Folke and Luminous Beings, Metallurgy for Auracular Protections, Wylde Gentrye… Some of the titles weren’t even in English. Some weren’t even in any recognizable form of language. Strange symbols whirled across their antique covers. I blinked and pushed my glasses back up to the bridge of my nose. The whirling stopped.

When I set my bag down on the nondescript-green painted table, it rocked to the side, threatening to topple over. I scowled in frustration. Stupid table. Stupid library that makes no sense. Stupid librarian telling me to sit at the shitty table. I hefted my books from my bag and spread them out across the surface.

About fifteen minutes into my Calculus homework, thick raindrops pattered against the window behind me. Absently, I checked the weather app on my phone. Sunshine all week, yeah, right.

Another hour later, I was bathed in golden light as the sunset poured through the window. At least, I thought it was an hour. It couldn’t have been much more than that as I was still slaving away over my Calculus questions. They day was flying away from me. As the moon peeked out over the tops of the buildings to visit my hidden corner, my head began to feel heavy. I blinked the sleep from my eyes. Blurry numbers smeared across the pages of my notebook. I gave myself a light slap.

Leaning back, I stared at the walls of books around me. Had the Librarian sent me to the Children’s Books section? Thin, brightly colored tomes lined the shelves. I pulled myself out of my seat and strode around the table. I reached out my hand and slid a book from the stacks at random. The Good Neighbours. I fanned the thick parchment-like pages through my fingers, stopping just to examine the pictures. A tall man with horns and hooved feet carried a girl away into the woods. Men and women wore heavy rings on their fingers and on chains around their necks. Milk and bread left on plates outside of doorways. A man ran screaming from white creatures on black horses, their hounds snapped at his heels with jaws like bear-traps. It was all so horrifically familiar. My hands quivered, but I could not stop turning the pages.

It all began to make sense, in a fantasy sort of way. Fairies. Goddamn fairies were stalking the edges of the university. Whoever had taken Jenny from Lot C was not a Someone, but a Something. Frigid sweat beaded on the back of my neck at the thought of the boy with the jagged, broken smile. I wasn’t paranoid. I had been right all along.

I spent the night skimming through pamphlets and old books. I took pages of notes. There were spaces between things, where time and dimension could Fold over on itself. Things that came through these Folds were glamouredto the human eye. There were ways you could see them. You didn’t want to see them. Protection, protection, protection.

It was dangerous to make deals with the Fair Folk. They could take things you didn’t know you could give, important things. Their gifts were impossible, beautiful, and terrifying. Those who managed to make a deal were forever changed.

When I squeezed through the gap in the bookshelves and returned to my dorm room, I had somehow missed the entire weekend and was running late for Chemistry 101. My greasy hair stuck up in all directions. Dark circles sagged under my eyes.

The Librarian smiled and waved at me as I jogged out into the morning mist. “Hope you found what you were looking for!” Her thin voice rang in my ears.

For the next four days, I was possessed by an unholy desire to Know. I searched for a Fold with single-minded clarity. If I could speak to one, I could find Jenny.

The nightmares got worse. The blaring of horns and yowling dogs got louder.

Last night I woke in the small hours of morning, drenched in salty sweat, and Something was sitting on my chest. It was the size of cat, but much heavier. The space it occupied was an inconceivable black mass in the darkness. The blurry, pale glow of my laptop screen was lost in its depths. A tiny black hole rested on my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut and reached for my glasses. My fingers pawed blindly at the table until they rested on the round plastic shape of my glasses. I stuffed them onto my face.

The Thing had gone. The weight, heavy and warm, remained. I gasped for air. Panic clutched at my lungs and stomach. I grasped my chest and felt something in my hands. It was a rock the size of a baseball. A dark brown coating of rust clung to its surface. No, it wasn’t rust. As I flaked a piece off with my fingernail I stifled a scream. 

The rock was coated with dried blood.


your daughter calls me daddy part 2

“Ditto. I love the absolute fuck out of ya. Come here.” He snuggles you closer. He hums Sinatra into your hair to help you fall asleep.

You woke up to calm silence, something that didn’t happen often on Christmas. You see Brendon asleep next to you, and you were quite possibly the only one awake. You climb out of bed, waking Brendon.

Groggily, he says, “Hey, babe.” You smile.

“Merry Christmas, Brendon.” He shoots up.

“It’s Christmas?” He asks.

“Mmhm, babe. Come on, get up.”

This was your fourth Christmas together, and it did sound weird when you thought about it, four years and he still hadn’t met your parents? Your parents loved Brendon from what you saw, you thought that they had made a good relationship in the last twenty-four hours. He got up, following you, as you walked out and he sat on your old couch. This couch had been through it all, every sick day, every laugh attack, everything. You sat down on him, cuddling into his chest. You pulled the soft blue blanket over the two of you and you didn’t say much, just cuddled for a while. Your mom walked out of her room, seeing the two of you, and grabbed your dad. The both of them said their respective good mornings and sat down on the couch. You started to hand out presents, and you kept all of yours in the tan chair, just like you always did as a kid.  There’s this small tiny one, smaller than, let’s say a rubik’s cube, and it’s very compelling.

“Go ahead, open everything up, Y/N, we will after you.” Your mother says.

You politely turn the offer around, “No, you can go first, I’m alright with going after.”

She accepts and opens her presents. A necklace, a record player from the 60’s and a few records, Frank Sinatra, Buddy Holly, all her favorites. You and Brendon gave the record player and the records, she always loved the sound much better than anything else, even better than a live show. Once she was done, you opened your presents, a Squier from Dad, he knew how much you loved them, a bracelet from Mom, that has “Fly me to the moon, then I’ll be able to show you how much I love you.” hand stamped in metal, and you had two presents from Brendon, the smaller-than-a-rubik’s-cube one, and the thin one.

“Brendon… you didn’t” You couldn’t stop smiling as you opened the thin one. It was a print out of a house. There was no way.

“I did.” He says, and he can’t stop smiling.

“Oh, but I didn’t get you a house!” You punch him in the arm softly. Your eyes are watering.

“That’s perfectly fine with me. What you got me is completely enough.” You had gotten him a new drum set and a set of guitars, a bass, an acoustic, and an electric.

“It sure doesn’t feel like it.” You laugh, and he does too.

“Open that one.” He points to the rubik’s cube sized one. You do exactly that, seeing it’s a fuzzy box. You open it. It’s a ring.

“Do you wanna marry me?” Brendon asks you, obviously nervous.

You’re crying and you can’t even tell.

“Of course, Brendon, of course!”

He sighed. “Thank god, I thought you might have said no.”

“How could I?” You smile, not even noticing your parents filming.

“Brendon… a house and this? How did you?”

“I just did. I love you, Y/N.”

At breakfast, you had cinnamon pull apart bread, and then you had today only to go around your hometown, basking in all of it’s gloried strip malls and the city, with all its skyscrapers and art. You had stopped at Homer’s for some ice cream and a burger for lunch, then went ice skating at the ice rink. You were driving downtown to get to the world’s best view, Navy Pier. You truly loved Brendon. You were wearing a dress, and it was Brendon’s favorite. Red, with a black lace top half. You were driving, you knew this town, so much better. He placed his hand on your upper thigh, needing you. You look at him, at the stoplight.



“Would you rather get a hotel room instead of going to Navy Pier?”


You take the next left and do a legal u-turn, or what you call a Michigan Left, which is so much smarter than everybody says, and you get to the Hyatt. You park your car, the tiny ass clown car you have a love hate relationship with, and run into the hotel.

“Excuse me, do you have any open rooms we could take for the night?”

Brendon’s starting already, kissing your neck.

You palm him, through his nice jeans, to get him to stop. He does, wanting more.

“I like being engaged to you.” You look at him, and kiss him.

“We’ve got room 404 open, rate’s gonna be 90 bucks, or we have a penthouse open for 245 a night.”

You opened your mouth to take room 404, but Brendon interjects, squeezing your ass.

“We’ll take the penthouse, thank you.” He hands the man his credit card.


“No, babe. My treat.”  He kisses you on your forehead.

You smile. The man behind the counter gives Brendon his card back, and explains how to use the key to get into the room. He explained the food service, and everything else. He was holding onto you like he would die if he wasn’t.

Once the guy finished talking, Brendon took you by the hand and led you down the hall, going up to the elevator. Once the bell dinged, you walked into an empty elevator. 35 floors, it had said.

“Brendon, you didn’t have to get the penthouse.”

“I wanted to get it for you, doll.”

“Or the house. Really, I’m very grateful, but you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to get you everything, Y/N. You deserve it. You need somewhere to go after living on a bus for six months, that is not my apartment or yours in Chicago. I couldn’t bear not seeing you everyday.” He whispered that last part into your hair.

“Oh god, I love you, I love you.” You half whispered half spoke.

“I love you so much, Y/N. You’re the only one I love, the only one I’ll ever love.”

“I love you, Daddy.” Into princess mode you go. You giggle.

He pounds his lips into yours.

“God, princess. I love this dress. But, it must come off.”

He spins you around, unzipping the dress, and letting fall to the ground, pushing you against the door. He rubs you through your underwear, it being soaked.

“Who made you this wet, doll?”

“You did, Daddy.”

“Oh, princess.”

He takes his other hand and unclasps your bra. You always were impressed that he could do it with one hand, you couldn’t even do that.

He takes one of your breasts into his mouth and bites lightly on your nipple.

You moan.


“Kitten, that’s not what you’re supposed to call me. Do you need a punishment?”

“Y-yes.” You continue kissing him, loving every bit of him.

“You’re going to have marks all over you proving that you’re mine, y/n.”

He unties his tie sets it aside, like he was going to need it later. He sits on the bed, patting his lap, waiting for you to come over.
“You’ve been a bad little kitten, you need to be punished. Ass up.” He says, and you obey, laying on his lap, stomach down, and your ass is indeed up. He smacks it hard. “Count.”

He smacks a second time, lighter.

“Two.” You say, voice hoarse.



The next was hard.




You could feel his hard-on through his pants, and it needed attention.

He lifts you off of him, unbuttoning his pants, and pulling them down with his boxers. He grabs your hair, pulling you to him. You flip your Y/H/C hair to one side, and you suck him off, going completely down. He throws his head back, and he’s moaning your name.

“I-I’m gonna cum.” he says from above you.

You keep going, feeling him twitch in your mouth, and a sharp stop of his breath. “Y/N!” He yells, spilling inside of your mouth. You swallow, and he picks you up, putting you onto the bed. He rips your panties off and his head disappears between your legs.  He’s licking your clit perfectly in rhythm. Fucking drummers, dude. You’re moaning his name louder than ever. He slips a few fingers in you, trying to get you to come. You moan your way through your orgasm, He marks your body everywhere, loving the shit out of you. He pulls you closer to him, and he puts his hands on your hips to keep you from moving.

“You alright, Doll?” He asks.

“Mmhm.” You nod, clutching the sheets, waiting for Brendon to just fuck you already.

He keeps kissing you everywhere, making marks anywhere he desires.

“Brendon can you just fuck me?”

He stops kissing and looks up at you, confused. You were never that pushy.

“Huh? Yeah, babe.” It took him a sec to calm down.

He thrusts into you and waits for you to adjust. You do, and he continues, whispering sweet nothings into the atmosphere you two are lucky enough to share. His thrusts get sloppier as you moan louder. “Oh my god, y/n!” He yells in complete ecstasy, finishing, his hands gripping your hips so hard. He stops, slowly and pulls out, You try to stand up. You do not stand up.

“Brendon I love the shit out of you,” you laugh, “You fucked me so hard I can’t stand up.” He comes over to you, helping you get under the covers. You smile, waiting for him to get in bed too, so you can snuggle into him and sleep.

“Merry Christmas, Brendon. Love you so so much.”

“Ditto. I love the absolute fuck out of ya. Come here.” He snuggles you closer. He hums Sinatra into your hair to help you fall asleep.


Fly Me To The Moon.  

Performed by Jamie & Wes.

Songs from the Missing Cake Sessions were originally performed at our close friend’s wedding, and the sessions serve to remember our fallen comrade, an entire layer of wedding cake that disappeared the night before.  Thievery?!

Fake Spideypool Movie Poster.

P.S. please reblog my artwork with my tumblr watermark. My artwork was screencaptured without my weblink and reupload to facebook. The quality of the reuploded picture was bad. Please show respect to every fanart makers.

I own nothing from them.  

Original photo credit: Just Jared
Song lyrics from Fly me to the moon


Other PS for their movie (some of them were made long time ago and my skill is still suck)

Concept / Advertisement / Stills / Toys  1  2  3  4  5  6

On set

Movie poster 1  2 3 4 (this PS)

Movie timeline concept:

- Their first meet

- Wade got cancer

- Wade loss memory and meet again

- Fell in love again

- Fighting scene 1

- Under the moon

- Fighting scene 2

- Last scene

Special collection on Blu-ray

Maybe more PS will be added into list!

Thanks for 1220+ Followers ( X )

       IF THE SMELL of sizzling bacon hadn’t awoken max’s company from last night, then his rendition of fly me to the moon certainly would’ve done the trick. kitchen tongs waved dangerously about while he hummed the sinatra tune until he noticed slight movement at the front of the hallway, and instantly a crooked smile curled onto his features. “you’re heading out already? i didn’t peg you as the type of person to leave before breakfast—not after the time we had last night, at least.” 


♥ Happy 35th birthday, Chris Pine! ♥

So I sort of made a music album contains all the songs that Chris has sung in movies/TV shows/interviews over the years. There are 10 songs in total.

♫ listen here ♫ 


01  Three Little Maids (ft. Diane Keaton & Lauren German) - From Surrender, Dorothy (2006)
02  The Wandering Minstrel - From Surrender, Dorothy (2006)
03  Someday Came Today - From Small Town Saturday Night (2010)
04  Agony (ft. Billy Magnussen) - From Into the Woods (2014)
05  Any Moment (ft. Emily Blunt) - From Into the Woods (2014)
06  Higher And Higher - From Wet Hot American Summer (2015)
07  Fly Me To The Moon - From Jimmy Kimmel Live (2014)
08  I’m So Sorry - From Capital FM interview (2014)
09  All I Need To Know - From Funny or Die: Pagent (2014)
10  Summer Wind From The Ellen Degeneres Show (2014)

dr-vauclair  asked:

weir/central + Tarantism

Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.

   Weir sometimes wished he drank. Those thoughts tended to have memories of Carter hot on their heels. Put a stop to that right quick.

   He covered his eyes. Because he felt exhausted or because he didn’t want to take another look at the Resistance’s death toll from the month prior, he couldn’t say.

   The Chosen had gone on a spree. All because he remained free.

   Deaths caused by his own doing carried more weight. Each one an unnecessary sacrifice. The number of which would burn itself in his head.

   Fly Me to the Moon came on. He heard Central walk away from the computer.

   “Dance with me?” John asked behind him.

   Weir sat up straight.

   “You know I can’t dance.” He powered off his tablet.

   “Since when has that stopped us?”

   Weir smiled.

   John held out his hand, and he didn’t hesitate to take it.