got it memorized

✩ Interview with a Mun ✩

➊ How many ships do you have on this blog?

➋ Have you ever roleplayed with someone that just left an unforgettable impression on you?

➌ Which of your ships on this blog is the fluffiest?

➍ Would you say you’re a decent roleplayer or do you have any self doubts?

➎ Have you made lots of friends on this blog?

➏ What’s the one thing you especially love about roleplaying your muse?

➐ Are there any people you’ve been to afraid of approaching?

➑ Give us a rough estimate: How much time have you spent on your graphics? (icons, theme, banners, promos, etc)

➒ Got any memorable threads on here? Care to mention a few?

➓ What were some of the most frustrating moments you had with your muse’s interaction with another muse?

❂ Wild card! (Ask a question of your own!)

A thing you probably don’t know about me is that sometimes I get in this mood where I don’t want to do anything but spend every spare moment binge-watching House, M.D. for several days at a time. I was on ep 2.15, “Clueless,” AKA that one where Wilson crashes at House’s place for a while, when inspiration struck and this Sterek drabble happened. Or… It’s almost 2k words, so maybe it’s a bit more than a drabble, BUT it’s still a drabble in spirit. (Rated T.)

It’s almost midnight when Derek finally shoulders on his coat, locks his office door, and steps out, only to spot Stiles crouched in front of the vending machine at the end of the hall, whacking the glass with the heel of his palm and muttering darkly.

Derek can’t just ignore him; he never can. (It’s a bit of a problem, and everyone in the hospital seems to know it, except for Stiles.) Before he knows it, he’s changed tracks and walked right over. “What are you still doing here?”

Stiles sits back on his heels to look up at him. “Bob ate my dollar and I’m feeling petty so I’m trying to get it back.”

“Bob?” Derek asks, a split second before he remembers that Stiles named the vending machine. It’s just this kind of thing that makes Derek feel guilty for sometimes looking at Stiles’ mouth a little too long, or pausing to let his eyes follow Stiles’ progress down the hall. Stiles isn’t a kid or anything, but he’s still only 26 to Derek’s 32, and he’s still got a year of residency to go. A lot of times, like when he’s jamming out to his iPod while he looks over lab work or doing stupid stuff like naming the vending machines, he seems to Derek more like a college kid than a grown man with a medical license and a house and a girlfriend.

Stiles goes back to hitting the vending machine, and Derek remembers why he originally came over here. “Didn’t your shift end at 7?”

Stiles smirks up at him, and Derek tries very, very hard not to imagine him making that same face in certain… other contexts. “What, you got my schedule memorized now, Dr. Hale? I’m flattered.”

It would make Derek’s life a lot easier if so much of what Stiles said didn’t come out sounding so flirtatious. Derek crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re deflecting.”

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S.COUPS interview in Seventeen Magazine!

“Reliable eldest & leader who brings them together”

1. How are you going to express your personality?

I try to present myself strongly, but in reality, I’m someone who’s easily moved to tears. Whenever the members cry, it makes me cry as well.

2. What is your role in the group?

Even if I have things that are troubling me,  I don’t sound things out and just work quietly.  I want to be like a father (to the members).

3. What is the time that makes you the happiest?

The time I’m up on stage. When we had concerts in Japan this February, Hoshi asked the crowd, “Please let us hear your voices!” and the cheers we got back were very memorable.

4. How do you spend your days off?

The other members go out (and do stuff), but I’m a person who has to sleep when I get the chance. (lol)

5. What’s your favorite daily clothing style?

I like wearing refreshing and cool accessories to give me an edge. I also go shopping with Mingyu to his recommended stores.

6. Charm point

If anything, I’m reliable. There are many times younger fans ask, “Can I call you Oppa?” and older fans think I look like a reliable person, which makes me happy. The people who rely on me are Jeonghan and Seungkwan. When they speak to me about their troubles, I give them honest answers.

7. What kind of kid were you in school?

I’m a mischievious person- I splash water on my friends who are sleeping with their heads on the table and run away quickly. I’m also close with my teachers, and I keep in contact with them even now.

8. A few words to ‘SEVENTEEN’ readers?

There are many things you can only experience while you’re a student, so I’d like (you all) to make lots of memories, and I’d be happy if Seventeen was one of them.

trans: もち 

pic cr: mi_1004J

deathbycoldopen  asked:

For the prompt meme, could you do #33 for kic viktuuri? (◠‿◠✿)

The way you said “I love you.“ | On a post-it note

i changed it, kinda. special thanks to @katsukiyuuristrophyhusband​ for their help describing the outfit :) 

It’s got to be a mistake.

“Yuuri, oh my god,” Phichit squeals through a mouth of chow fun. His eyes are wide as saucers.

It’samistakeit’samistakeit’samistake.

“Shut up, I can hear you thinking. You nerd.” Phichit rolls his eyes. He makes a beckoning gesture with the chopsticks in his hand. “Lemme see it again.”

Yuuri grudgingly hands over the binder mockup of HMC’s next issue. It’s thick; seventy-something pages long and covered in various notes after a full day of being passed around between each department. Yuuri’s meant to proofread them and deliver a report to Victor in the morning.

“Don’t get oil on it,” he mumbles. He helps himself to chunks of braised tofu as Phichit flips through the pages, thumbing at the pink post-it notes.

Pink post-it notes. Victor’s notes.

“One, two… three… four… five, six—six! Six love letters so far and I’m still only on page five,” Phichit exclaims. He slaps his thigh excitedly with his chopsticks hand, flinging drops of vegetable oil onto the hardwood floor of their living room.

“They’re not love letters,” Yuuri insists, blushing furiously. He squirms where he’s sat cross-legged on the floor at the coffee table and gives his friend a warning look. “They’re just…” He trails off, not really knowing how to describe the several post-its containing variations of

Show Y♡
Check with Y♡
♡Thoughts, Y?

And a very ominous ♡♡YK♡♡ over a Dolce & Gabbana advertisement of a model wearing suede hot pants and a matching cropped bralette.

“They’re just love letters, yeah,” Phichit finishes for him, snorting. He gazes dreamily back at the binder. “So what did he do, just hand you the binder and say, ‘Please give me a comprehensive report and your un-manicured hand in marriage by the morning?’

Yuuri grinds through the tofu in his mouth and swallows quickly. Glares at him all the while. “No. He said, ‘Please have the comprehensive report by the morning, I know it’s heavy so you can take your leave early. Don’t skimp on the details.’” 

He doesn’t say why he’s got this memorized. He doesn’t say that he’s almost no longer needed to take down notes on anything Victor tells him anymore because he remembers every word that leaves his mouth. 

Don’t skimp on the details,” Phichit echoes. He gives Yuuri a funny look. “He’s so weird. Why doesn’t he ask you out like a normal person?”

“He doesn’t want to ask me out. He’s just…” Yuuri makes an exasperated noise and runs a hand through his hair. “Confusing.”

So, so confusing.

When Yuuri hands Victor the binder and the report in the morning, the editor-in-chief holds up one hand to signal for him to wait. Yuuri waits patiently as he scans the report, watches Victor’s eyebrows knit together and his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

Victor nods when he finishes. “Very good. Yeah.” He coughs and looks up at Yuuri. “Was that all?”

Yuuri feels his face heat up. Was he meant to acknowledge the hearts after all? He did end up leaving a—

“Chris said he’d bring by more sketches later, didn’t he?” Victor asks, then.

Yuuri flushes, shoulder sagging. Of course. Of course. He doesn’t know why he keeps letting Phichit’s words get to his head; he always ends up wrong. “He said he’d have them in by noon.”

“Sounds great.” Victor gives a close-lipped smile and nods again, turning back to binder. Yuuri takes that as his dismissal and steps out, cursing himself all the while. He sincerely hopes Victor had missed the —YK♡ he’d left at the bottom of the report.

8

NCT 127 on MAMA 2016 - Moments to remember forever

FRAT/”BAD” BOY HARRY/SASSY LOUIS FIC REC

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

a college AU set in San Francisco where two lost boys who seemingly have nothing in common find inspiration, each other, and themselves in the process.

Louis Tomlinson hates Harry Styles and wants absolutely nothing to do with him. Too bad fate has other plans.

[AU where Louis does ballet and Harry is the epitome of everything Louis’ friends want him to stay away from]

Few can handle Louis Tomlinson on the dance floor, much less match him in skill and fervor. Louis has obviously met his soul mate; he just never expected him to be wearing a red snapback and to chew gum like an entitled Mercedes owner.

Harry’s a frat boy who is head over heels for Louis and Louis wants nothing to do with him.

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5

do u ever want to like…. strangle a customer…. 

Do you think when someone wants to join the Southside Serpents they take a test to like see how many badass/cool snake metaphors they can use? Like:
“Here’s the thing about snakes; you don’t step on ‘em they got no reason to bite.”
-an actual thing FP said
Like no he did not come up with that on the spot don’t lie to me he’s got tons of those memorized doesn’t he.

Love and First Sight: Chapter One

Vice Principal Larry Johnston extends his hand.

To clarify: I don’t see this. I hear the swish of his shirtsleeve.

“Nice to meet you, William.”

The fabric sound plays again&emdash;the hand retracting.

“I’m sorry, I guess you can’t do that now, can you? You probably want to feel my face?”

He grabs my arm and smacks my palm against his cheek, knocking me off balance so I have to step into the musk of his aftershave.

“Where do you normally start? Eyes? Nose? Mouth?”

He shifts my fingers across the front of his face with each suggestion. His skin is rough and pockmarked, like the outside of an orange.

“No, actually, I don’t do that,” I say, pulling my hand away. “I identify people based on their voices.”

“And…also…” I add. I can’t resist. “Yes?” he asks, all eager to please.

“Well, I don’t usually touch faces, but I am gifted with a heightened sense of smell that allows me to recognize a person’s pheromones, which are concentrated just below the ear, so if you wouldn’t mind … ?”

I touch my pointer finger to my nose.

His excitement drops. “Oh…you want to…smell… my ear?”

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