he is the one in the green shirt

Dean never really wonders where all his old clothes go. If there’s a shirt he can’t find, he just assumes it was torn or bloody or somehow ruined by evil, and that he tossed it at the last motel. He just buys more and goes on with his day.

Cas watches as he gets rid of shirt after shirt, leaving bits of himself behind in every town. The town has no idea how lucky it is, Cas thinks. It gets to hold a part of Dean forever.

That thought is what gives Cas the idea.

Soon, the inside of Cas’ trenchcoat is lined with scraps of plaid and old t-shirts, torn from Dean’s destroyed clothing and haphazardly sewn into the lining.

Dean sees it one day, and after a moment of confusion, decides to grin and slap Cas on the shoulder. “Well, you are a Winchester. You should dress like one.” He stares a few more seconds, green eyes going soft as he smiles wider.

It’s not quite everything Cas wants, but he’ll take it. He likes the thought of being a Winchester, likes the possessiveness in Dean’s eyes even more.

He wraps the coat tighter around himself, imagining that his skin can feel the soft fabric through his suit.

my headcanon wedding outfits

carlos: formal labcoat, tuxedo-print t-shirt underneath, and a cross between something that looks like a pink kilt or skirt but no one’s sure which. no shoes. his toes are painted neon green. 

cecil: a black crop top with the words “LIFE IS FLEETING BUT THE VOID LOVES YOU” written on it in red ink, orange and green polk-dot yak hair booty shorts, and tights with cat faces on them. one shoe is a red high heel, and the other is a yellow rain boot. he was wearing a tie-dye bandanna on his head, but removed it for the ceremony.  

Some little things about Billie Joe Armstrong

-(inspired by this post)

-he’s very soft spoken, articulate and thoughtful when he is speaking one-on-one with someone

-if you give him your art he will tell you how much he loves it and be sincere and overly compliment you, and he will probably hold on to it for while

-his favorite Green Day song is Holiday because he loves playing it live

-his everyday clothing is usually a flannel or old t-shirt, with black skinny jeans and converse as you’d expect.  When he’s not on tour he lets his stubble grow out more.  Sometimes he even wears shorts.

-he is a completely different person onstage verses offstage

-ever since becoming sober, he drinks a lot of coffee and soda instead

-if you meet him you can see he is aging with the wrinkles around his eyes and smile lines around his face and bits of grey hair, but it doesn’t matter because time passes by and no one is immune to age, he is still the inspirational man he always has been who will never stop writing powerful music and performing like every show is his last

-he tries to personalize every signature he writes, whether it is adding explanation marks, writing a phrase from your conversation, the year, or asking your name and writing that down

-he also likes to draw on things some people have him sign

-he tries his best to befriend his fans but can get very nervous and shy if there are a lot of them around at once and he has to talk to a lot of people

-he seems to be a classic introvert, if you talk to him from outside of his social group and “rock star” life

-he is a lot smaller than you’d expect- not only short but just tiny, man

ive seen some art of dave celebrating christmas which is understandable considering the fact that his and roses jewishness is not very visible to goyim but consider THIS:

  • dave, karkat, rose and kanaya celebrating hanukkah together
  • dave introduces karkat to matzah and he thinks its boring and dry but keeps eating it anyway
  • they all get their own blank dreidels and paint them, kanaya makes hers pastel green and purple, rose makes hers black, karkat makes his pink, and dave covers his in dicks
  • they all wear ugly jewish sweaters like these

Have some random jasiper hp au where Jason embarrasses the hell out of himself. 


“Expecto Patronum!” For a second the room is filled with a milky silver-white light, leaving only the corners of the classroom hidden in shadow. The light grows, spreads, then flickers. The edges start to fade until the light vanishes.

“Shit!” Piper shouts. “Shit, shit, shit!”

Jason stands off to the side, mouth pressed into a thin line. He gives Piper a minute to let out her anger and frustration.

“That was good. Let’s try again,” he says the words calmly and softly.

“Good?” Piper spins on him, wand clutched tightly by her side. “How was that good?” Her hair falls in her face, the green and black tie nearly tugged free of its knott, the top buttons of her shirt undone and her robes tossed onto one of the desks.

Jason stays quiet, waiting incase there is anything else Piper needs to get out.

“I can make fruit sing whatever song you hate the most, make your shoelaces tie themselves together or come untied every minute. I can make your tie offer to answer any question, and make it sound like you actually said it. I can jinx, hex, and charm but I can’t get this stupid spell to work. Bloody stupid Patronus.”

By the time she’s done ranting she’s out of breath, but her shoulders have dropped and she no longer clings to her wand with a desperate ferocity. Jason figures his chances of approaching her without getting a jinx, or a broken nose, are good enough.

“You’re forcing this. Expecting that this will come as easily as some boogie jinx. Piper this isn’t an easy spell, grown wizards haven’t mastered it, so it’s okay-”

“No. It’s not.” Piper looks up at him with the determination that can only come from pain, pain of losing someone because you couldn’t help them.

Keep reading

Day Thirty-Four

-A fourteen-year old boy went through the lanes dressed as Jared Leto’s Joker. It is far too far from Halloween for this to be acceptable. He had acid-green hair, off-putting makeup, a t-shirt designed to look like the Joker’s bare body, and a very disappointed father.

-I once again utilized my power to stop a shrieking child and make her laugh instead. Her mother did not know why the screaming ceased, but she was visibly relieved as it did. As she walked away and blocked me from the child’s sight, the little one began to wail again. I feel obligated to accompany them and become a live-in nanny, whether they ask for it or not.

-An old man, supposedly by accident, referred to me as “honey.” He looked at me, mortified, then grabbed his bag and ran out of the store. I can understand this man and his actions all too well.

-A grown man had to say the word “panties,” and the amount that the word made him squirm makes me question what business he has purchasing any.

-A pair of elderly women came through together on a shopping date. They were thrilled to find a magazine about the upcoming Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them movie, and twice as thrilled to find my free stickers. I hope my priorities are as in order as theirs at that point in my life.

-I found out that I have inspired at least one other cashier to become more liberal with their stickers. If nothing else, I am glad to leave this legacy behind.

-A young girl walked through the store in a Pikachu costume. The joy in her face makes me hope she never has to take it off for as long as she lives.

-I looked to the end of my lane to find a man administering a sobriety test for his eleven year-old son. 

-A young girl in her cart spent her time proudly proclaiming to anyone who walked by that she could spell the word “sad.” I am glad to hear this, as depending on the success of a certain xenophobic jackolantern on November 8th, this skill may come in more and more handy.

-A young woman commented on how busy the store was and how stressed I seemed as a result of our dearth of cashiers at the time. She then told me she appreciated what I did. I get direct deposits every other Friday, yet this is still the most gratifying compensation this job has given me.

-I handed a boy a strip of stickers. He began to look down at them and giggle maniacally. He has plans. I do not know what they are, but I am both terrified and excited to find out.

-A man in his twenties took a sticker, then forced his friend to take one as well, as he could not choose which sticker he wanted but wished to adhere to the “Take One” rule.

-As her parents prompted her to thank me for her stickers, a small girl looked me in the eye, raised the stickers to my face, declared, “I’m taking these now,” and walked away with neither her parents nor a single care in the world.

-A mother told her son that if he touched anything, he would go to jail. I am not sure how she was able to back this threat up in the past, but clearly there was precedent enough that he stopped in his tracks.

-My final guest and I discussed strange things my guests have mentioned. She then asked me if I had seen a viral post about a Target employee’s first week on the job. As she described it, I reluctantly told her that I did in fact see it, as I had also written it. I am not fully sure if she left my register believing me or not, but either way, her reaction was phenomenal and I clocked out high on the buzz of pseudocelebrity status.

-My shift was bookended by visits from my lovely girlfriend. My night opened up with her bringing me Starbucks and closed out with her driving me home. She is the one to thank for Target Retales. She keeps me sane and keeps me going, and I don’t even have to give her that many stickers.

I just imagine Dean, 20 something, in one of his years in college. I just imagine him, tired green eyes, messy brown hair, running through the courtyard to his first class of the day, which he’s almost missed completely because of his cheap alarm clock going off at the wrong time. I just imagine Castiel, also 20 something, but older, leaving his fiction-writing class, juggling a cup of coffee in one hand as he shoved his laptop in his bag with the other. I just imagine Castiel, blue eyes widened as Dean runs into him, splattering coffee all over his white shirt, but even worse: knocking his expensive laptop to the floor.
And Dean, he’s so embarrassed, he can’t believe what he’s done. He’s seen Castiel around before, he knows he’s older. He’s going to think Dean’s stupid, immature.
Castiel is angry at first, kind of annoyed, but he understands completely and he’s kind once he’s calmed down.
I just imagine Dean feeling so bad about Castiel’s shattered laptop that he knocks on his dorm door the next day with a wad of cash in his hands. 
And when Castiel opens the door, I imagine him happily surprised, and when he lets Dean in, he tells him he can’t accept the money. 
“It was an accident,” he says. “And I have a warranty, they’ll fix it for free.”
But Dean, he doesn’t care. He wants to give Castiel something. 
So Castiel comes up with an idea: he’ll help him with his writing. 
Castiel was working on something to turn into class, but his broken laptop was making that harder since now he had to go to the library to type. So Dean, he could come with him, read his writing. Give the writer some tips. 
I imagine Castiel in the library with Dean, focused on his work, Dean looking up every once in a while from his homework to read over Castiel’s shoulder. 
Dean isn’t a great writer, he isn’t great at anything involving words, really, but I imagine that he’ll try to be for Castiel. 
And Castiel’s words, they flow like an endless silk string likely to never get tangled, but when it does, Dean is happy to untie the knots. 
In some ways Dean thinks this is all a bribe to get a friend, but he doesn’t care. He can’t believe he doesn’t have that many friends; Castiel is brilliant and beautiful, and so is his writing.
His writing reminds Dean of Castiel a lot, actually. 
I imagine that Dean really likes Castiel, but he didn’t fall in love with him that easy. 
I imagine that first Dean falls in love with his words. His amazing writing. 
Dean subscribed to his blog. 
His writing was the kind that kept you up at night. The kind that could make you cry. 
Dean didn’t even like to read, but he loved to read Castiel’s work, and after a while, reading his work became more and more about reading Castiel.
And Castiel was Dean’s favorite book.
I just imagine that their feelings sprouted like words on paper-and yeah, sure. Sometimes the flow wasn’t smooth, but it didn’t end without some sort of resolution.
Castiel got a new laptop. Dean got a new alarm clock.
And I just imagine that something so simple as a run in on a crazy morning turn into something so beautiful, and I imagine that it happen between Dean and Castiel.

anonymous asked:

fav martin outfit?

Aw jeez, I couldn’t possibly pick just one!

I love this one from the Empire Awards as he somehow makes the dark green suit and bright red John Smedley work

And then this laid back affair from the Fargo screening

Then there was this from The Jam exhibit, John Smedley again

And yet more John Smedley from the Soho Mag shoot (and I just want all his glasses really)

And lets not forget the black polo shirt of sex, yet more John Smedley :)

This Clarks and sock combo

*cough* this one…

Also, basically anything DNA Groove.

And then there’s all these clothes of his that I want, like this stripey henley

And this Oliver Spencer waistcoat

But overall this

And his love of a nice Baracuta G9

Aaah, sorry for the long post!

Need To Breath

Sister!Reader

Angst n plot twists, prepare for a Part two at some point 

They weren’t fully turned yet, it was half-way through the transition. They had pretty normal clothes on..well for a supernatural being. A dark blue hoodie over a green shirt and somewhat baggy jeans. He had pale white skin and a lanky build. However in full form this wouldn’t mean anything.

You hold up your gun, aiming it directly at the back of their head. Fully loaded with silver bullets, you looked down the barrel and prepared to squeeze the trigger. Your brothers, Sam and Dean, were slowly backing away. Sam glanced at you for a split second as if to say- ‘shoot’.

You swallowed and-

“Y/N…” 

-and stopped. The werewolf didn’t turn around, he stayed facing Sam and Dean. Perhaps he considered them more of a threat. He was wrong.
But you didn’t shoot, you couldn’t. You stayed still, your finger a nervous twitch away from his death sentence. He was hanging by a thread and yet somehow it was as if he was the one controlling that very same thread.

“Y/N please…” His voice was trembling, his body visibly shaking. “…please.”

Maybe one of your brothers had mentioned your name in passing…only the way he said it made it sound so much more personal.
“Y/N shoot that thing!” Dean shouted…no he ordered. Occasionally he let his protective nature of both you and Sam fully take over. When he spoke this way you knew you should listen…and yet you only listened. You didn’t act…not yet.

The man turned round slowly, his torso was shivering and you realised he wasn’t transforming, but resisting. His face stared at yours -most of it shadowed by his hood- but not in the way you’d seen any werewolf do so before. He had kinder features and more empathy…more understanding. You looked back, watching as he took his hood down.

You took in a short breath, it hitched in your throat and you nearly sobbed trying to find more air. 
Bright blue eyes occasionally  taunting a shimmer of golden orange teared up. His veins were becoming more and more stretched along his features, three black and thick veins had branched out to his neck. 
Y/N…” He rasped, trying to hold on to his human. “Shoot me….please..”
He collapsed and hesitated leaving you not knowing whether to rush to his side or to remain. A tear trickled down your cheek and you slowly lowered your gun.

Please!” He screamed, tears streaming down his face, bringing up his head to look up at you. His jaw was stiff- no doubt holding in the sharper teeth forcing their way through. 

Your brothers stood in shock, perplexed as to what to do or to say. Dean was agitated whereas Sam was watching with curious eyes. Both were ready to act, but neither dared.

There was one thing you knew for sure, however. You weren’t doing to do it.

You weren’t going to shoot your own brother.


I do not own these gifs

(Tags after cut)

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today in honours German we were constructing sentences and that stuff, and we had to say what we wrote out loud. so this one kid we call the Christmas tree (because of his poorly dyed red hair and a green and shiny gold legend of zelda shirt he wears almost EVERY day, giving him the appearance of a chrismas tree) says “ich esse allein Tomaten” (i eat tomatoes alone) while wiggling his eyebrows, kicks the teacher and leaves the classroom playing Russia’s anthem on his phone

dtwizzie  asked:

*Credence finds and looks into The Mirror of Erised*

Credence doesn’t know why the mirror is showing him this. 

This isn’t him as he is now. This is him standing straight, standing tall, standing on his own in the grass of some far away place he’s never seen before.  This is him holding a book in one hand and a wand in the other, a nice green shirt, suspenders, a dark grey robe open at the front. This is him getting ready for a day of magic lessons, his cheeks sun-flushed, his hair tousled and allowed to curl in the way mother never liked.

This is him happy.

There’s a man waiting for him in the background, his hands in his pockets, temples shot through with grey.

This is everything Credence wants, and he doesn’t know how to reach it.

I like to imagine what would happen if some of the overwatch moved into a like tower together.

D.va not stealing Lucio green shirt and wearing it on one of hers gaming streams. Only too have Lucio knock on her door asking if she seen his shirt. An she sinks into her seat trying to hide.

As she answers “no, I have no idea where your green shirt is.”

And on her stream chat its like OOOOh! Why you got his shirt d.va! Sell his shirt I’ll pay you! Busted!

An she eyes, her chat as she quickly types"None of you better snitch i swear to god-“

It is like 2 minutes flat before Lucio come back and he leans up against her door; phone in hand, shirtless. An hana all sweaty because theirs a shirtless Lucio in her room. She can it basically see him in her computer screen. An Lucio just scrolling through his phone as he talks.

“Ya know that funny cause, i’m getting a lot of tweets about people knowing where my shirt is. An how a famous streamer is wearing it. Would you know anything about that?”

An d.va pulls her keyboard into her lap, “nope! Not a clue haha.” Clearly not playing it cool at all. An she types out to her chat. Snitches all of you!

And Lucio raises and eyebrow, like really tho? An he walks up beside her chair and the chat is going crazy. D.va has missed like 20 donations at this point. An everyone can see Lucio clearly now arms folded. D.va is nearly dead in her chair. And he just smiles and says hello to the chat. Then turns to d.va-

“You know you could have just asked, it looks better on you anyway.” There a wink and Lucio leaves the room.

A D.va just disappears from her chair onto the floor her face redder than the sun. The game forgotten the chat and donations have gotten out of hand.

This is why it usually planed for when Lucio comes onto her streams.

anonymous asked:

I heard you take prompts? How about one where Red and Green start their journeys in Pallet and New Bark (who lives where is up to you) and they meet up together at the Indigo League steps? So both of them wonder what now, and then decide to just take them on together since there's no rules against it?

Green huffed through his nose as he popped his back. The Victory road? More like the zubat road because he swore he could still feel waste dripping down his shirt. 

The thought brought a shudder to Green and he shook his head. It would all be worth it, however. 

Green looked up at the imposing building that had finally peeked out from him, glaring at him with nothing but a challenge. 

“You ready to do this, Eevee?” Green asked, clutching that first pokeball Elm had gifted him tight in his hand. Squaring his shoulders, Green moved to take a single step forwards. 

Before he could, however, someone collided with his back. 

Green stumbled, but caught himself easily. His nose scrunched up.

Yep. There was still zubat waste dripping down his back. Lovely. 

Green whipped around on his toes, gritting his teeth and sending a poisonous glare of his own at the kid who had decidedly crashed into him at the start of the greatest moment of his entire life. 

“Hey!” he called out. “What the hell was that for?”

The kid who had just ran from the Victory Road stared up at him with intelligent, almost haunting red eyes. A shiver wracked Green, for what reason he didn’t know, and he found himself almost unable to tear his eyes away from the shorter kids’. 

The kid continued to stare up at him. Slowly he rose his hand and signed… something. 

Green blinked, but recognized what he was doing right away. “Um, I don’t know sign language.” 

The kid dropped his hands and a frown marred his face. He shrugged with one shoulder and continued to stare up at Green with huge eyes. 

Green stared back, making sure not to squirm in the awkward silence. “Hey, just watch out where you’re going next time, yeah?”

The kid grinned and nodded before holding out his hand. 

That gesture Green did recognize as he gripped the hand and shook. “My name’s Green!” he said. “I would ask for your name, but-” 

The kid pointed at the red part of his hat before Green could finish. 

Green blinked. “Um. Red? Is that your name? Red?”

Red nodded, another smile stretching his lips. 

“Heh. That’s not too bad. So I guess you’re here like me to challenge the League, aren’t ya?” 

Red nodded once and turned to showcase the six pokeballs strapped to his belt. 

Green nodded. “Nice nice.” Green let his voice die as he turned to look back up the steps of the League. Despite the company, the building was as imposing as ever; Green felt as if he were being crushed under the mere presence.

A nervous energy tittered inside him, causing him to shake, yet at the same time, his stomach brewed with a churning storm.

Green turned and glanced at Red, who was also staring up those grand steps. 

Green bit his bottom lip. He had never quite felt like this before; so nervous and yet ready. Unsure, but also certain of what he was about to accomplish.

Because he knew he would accomplish what he came to do. 

Still, no matter the calming words Green repeated in his head, he couldn’t quite stop his hands from shaking. Nor could he stop glancing at Red- with his messy hair and pale skin and wide, almost innocent eyes. 

“Hey, you wanna take em on together?” Green asked suddenly turning to Red. 

Red jumped and stared at him in shock, tilting his head to the side. He rose his hand to sign, but paused, and instead pointed at Green then to himself. He shot Green another questioning look. 

Green looked away. “It was just an idea! But yeah. Together. I mean. They got lots of rules but I never heard of rules of us not being able to take em on at the same time. You know? So… what’d ya say? Wanna?”

Green held out his hand towards Red, his stomach somehow churning even more. A drop of sweat traced down his cheek.

Red stared at his hand, but a new smile returned to his face. Nodding once, Red clasped Green’s hand in his own. 

Green grinned brightly and his hands stopped shaking. 

“Great!” 

SBJ More Than Human Headcanon

Buttercup and Butch would wear similar clothing all the time and it would be completely by accident. They’d see each other at school and just think “not again” because they’re both wearing black bomber jackets and green shirts and black jeans AND “NO WE DIDNT PLAN THIS !!!” and one day they’re both wearing green hoodies and the second Buttercup sees Butch she’s ripping off her sweater and he’s just dying because “it’s not even that bad c’mon so what we’re matching”. 

BTS Reaction: Toddler Tales~

Reaction: A peak into the life of you, your BTS husband, and your toddler~

A/N: @jimeme-ho We talked about this a couple weeks ago! Hope you all like it!


Jin 

“See? Now you mix the ingredients around in the bowl like this,” Jin says as he helps his son hold the whisk, slowly drawing it around the bowl to mix the sugar, baking soda, and other dry ingredients. There’s flour in Seokmin’s hair, and a smear of icing on his cheek since they’d made that first and then proceeded to eat a quarter of it.

“Now, Appa’s going to crack the eggs, because that’s too tricky for small hands,” Jin informs him, holding one hand on Seokmin’s back to keep him steady on his sous-chef stool while he cracks two eggs with one hand. His son watches him with wide eyes, his hand slipping off the whisk. He’s wearing the green shirt with two puppies playing on the front that your mom gave him, and he’s hoping the chocolate frosting won’t actually stain it forever.

The front door opens, and you shout, “I’m home!” Seokmin turns around excitedly at his mother’s voice, so Jin lifts him up in his left arm in case he loses his footing on the stool. He hastily steps over to the sink to wash the egg off of his hand and snatches a towel to attempt to dry it. 

“Eomma!” Seokmin mumbles, his eyes peeking over Jin’s shoulder.

“I hear Seokmin and yet not Seokjin, which means someone must be in trouble,” you say as you step into the doorway of the kitchen. Your mouth drops open.

“Jin! This kitchen is a mess! What have you been doing in here?” The counter is covered in flour, bulky tools like the mixer and the baking pans are cluttering up the table, and there are several new piles of dirty dishes that had definitely not been there when you’d left to go shopping two hours ago.

“Seokmin wanted cupcakes,” Jin offered innocently, turning around and looking at your son for confirmation. “And so, I thought I would teach him how to make them this afternoon.”

“Really? Our two year-old son wanted cupcakes that he’s never had before?” You give him an incredulous look, but you’re smiling, so the sarcasm wasn’t as effective. “Uh-huh. Because I think my five-yearold-trapped-in-an-adult’s-body husband wanted some and waited until I was gone to make them.”

You take a closer look at them, before asking, “Hey, is that the shirt my mother gave to him?”

Originally posted by suga-com

Suga 

“Yoongi? Why is Yoona dressed in her going-out clothes?” You call through the apartment, watching your two year old daughter toddling around on the living room floor, clad in a ridiculously expensive (for a toddler) tiny jean jacket and black jeans, a thick knitted scarf wrapped around her head, and the pair of red converses her uncle Joonie had given her for Christmas. Meanwhile you’re still in your pajama pants and one of your husband’s old shirts, hilariously underdressed next to your fashionable two year-old. 

“She said she wanted to go to work with me,” he says, striding down the hallway while toweling his hair dry. He’s wearing a simple white shirt and black jeans–studio days are “no fucks” days, although he loves to dress up Yoona for even the smallest occasion. 

“Appa!” Yoona shouts, falling on her butt as she looks up at her Dad. “Work, work!” 

“I know, it is about time to go to work, isn’t it.” Yoongi bends over and fixes the scar around her neck and shoulders. 

“Not that this isn’t absolutely adorable,” you say fondly, pressing against him as he straightens up. “Because it is. But will you actually be able to work if she’s there? I can bring her by for lunch instead.” You whisper in his ear so Yoona couldn’t hear, “she also has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. And before you say it, yes, she has to go.”

Yoongi grimaces: Yoona hates the doctor’s office, and subsequently her father tries to boycott visits as well.

“Kook and Tae will be there this morning, so they can look after the munchkin every hour or so while I work,” he says as he wraps his jacket around his shoulders and grabs his laptop bag and Yoona’s baby bag. “It’s time, Yoona.”

He picks her up into the cradle of his arm and turns to you. “Give your Eomma kisses.” 

He leans her closer as your daughter kisses your cheek and says, “Bye, Eomma.”

You kiss her nose. “I’ll see you at lunch time, Yoonie.” You turn to Yoongi and kiss him quickly. “Be good, babe. Love you.”

He scoffs as usual, before he gives you that sweet smile that makes your heart melt every time. “Love you, Y/N.”

Originally posted by hellosweet96

Rap Monster 

“So, let’s introduce todays guests on Famous Families! Kim Namjoon, a.k.a. Rap Monster of BTS, bestselling author Y/N, and their son Taejoon!” The hosts gesture to the side as you step onto the set, Namjoon following up the steps with your son Taejoon held in his arms. 

The crowd begins cheering and clapping loudly as you three appear, a large portion of the audience cooing once your son is carried in sight. Taejoon, in typical Namjoon fashion, is wearing a dark green jacket over a striped black and white shirt, jean capris, a beanie, and red converse, and he looks precious and tiny in his dad’s arms. He’s looking around with wide eyes at the lights, the set, and the crowd, his hand held tightly onto his dad’s shirt.

You take a seat on the plushy white sofa for guests, while the hosts sit adjacent, and the noise begins to die down. Taejoon leans back and looks at you from his seat on Namjoon’s thigh, checking to make sure you were there before pressing his face into his dad’s shirt. You stroke his back, sharing a smile with Namjoon, when the hosts begin speaking.

“Welcome to the show! We’re so happy that you could take time out of your busy schedules to come on today! We know that Rap Monster here is about to head off on another international tour, and your next novel is being published very soon, right, Y/N?”

“Yes! Thank you for having us! We’re really happy to be on the show,” you answer with a smile, Namjoon nodding in agreement.

“It’s great to be here,” he adds, his hands casually adjusting Taejoon’s beanie on his head.

“And we’ve heard that this is Taejoon’s first official appearance on TV,” the host says excitedly, leaning forward in her seat to try to catch a glimpse of your son’s face. “What an honor for the show! Can you turn around and give a little wave to the audience, Taejoon?”

Namjoon leans down and whispers into his son’s ear, gesturing with a finger out to the crowd. Taejoon begins to turn around, but the crowd suddenly erupts into cooing. He gets shy and pushes back into Namjoon’s shirt before catching sight of you over his arm. He crawls out of his dad’s lap and into yours, wrapping his little arms around your neck and hiding his face.

“It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay,” you soothe him, rubbing your hand on his back and smiling apologetically to the host and audience. “He’s a bit shy in front of groups of people, but he’s being very brave to come on the show with Eomma and Appa today.” 

Namjoon shares a smile with you, taking charge of the interview for a few minutes while Taejoon calms down and gets used to the atmosphere

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

J-Hope 

You’re standing in the waiting room just around the corner from the main stage, watching Hoseok perform with the guys through a monitor, holding Hyorin’s hands as she dances along on wobbly legs. You sing along to their recent comeback album, grinning down at your daughter, who’s wearing a miniature BTS sweater, soft linen pants, and little shoes, her hair drawn up in two pigtails.

She gestures toward the screen and looks up at you, pointing with a small, pudgy finger. “Appa! Appa?”

“Yes,” you say, grinning. “Appa, fighting!”

The familiar sound of your father’s ring tone chimes from your purse, so you leave her in front of the TV for a second to check the message. Your mother had recently been sick, so you were expecting an update that night. You sigh with relief when you see the message from your father stating that she is back home again, feeling much better than before. “Hyorin, your halmoni is feeling better now?” You turn around expecting to hear her bubbly giggle, when your heart stops.

Hyorin’s not in front of the TV anymore.

“Hyorin!” You call her name as you look around the room before quickly striding to the opening flap of the waiting room. “Has anyone seen a little girl come through–” But you see her before you even finish speaking. She somehow managed to toddle up the stage ramp and through the staff members without anyone noticing and is making her way onto the stage. “Hyorin, wait! That’s a no-no area!”

But it’s too late. She’s already made her way on to the stage, where BTS was performing. Luckily they were on a relatively slow song, so the second that Taehyung performed a spin near the left side of the stage, he caught sight of your daughter. “Hyorinnie!” 

He immediately breaks from the choreography and scoops up your daughter, who gives him a disgruntled look at being stopped from finding her dad. He’s grinning down at her little face and speaking to her, but the music and the crowd are too loud for anything to be heard. Tae looks up and sees you at the edge of the stage, and you hastily bow in apology for disturbing the concert.

The rest of the group has come to a stop now at the commotion, though the music continues to play for another few beats. Hoseok whirls around to see what’s happened, only to see his daughter is on stage and is giggling at the goofy faces the maknae line are making. 

“Hyorinnie! What are you doing out here?” He jogs over, beaming when she stretches out her arms to him. Hoseok meets your apologetic gaze before smiling in reassurance. “Wanted to come see your Appa dance, right?” 

He hands Jungkook his microphone to take Hyorin from Taehyung, holding her against his hip as he takes the microphone back. After pressing a kiss to her forehead, he says to the crowd, “Want to say hello to A.R.M.Y.? Can you wave to them, say hello?”

Hyorin looks out at the crowd with wide eyes before lifting one hand and waving energetically. “Hi,” she says into the microphone, and the crowd melts.

Originally posted by jeonsshi

Taehyung 

“I don’t know about this, Y/N,” Taehyung says quietly, watching anxiously as you cut the peanut sandwich into two little triangles and put them into a sandwich box next to a container holding grapes apple slices you’d cut to look like bunnies. “Are you sure we can’t just take her to work with us for a couple years? Hire a babysitter to follow us around and look after her when we have to work?”

“Tae, you know that’s not going to work. It’s important for her to make friends, socialize. Daycare school will be good for her,” you reassure him, packing a couple pieces of carrots and celery into another container before fitting them all into your daughter’s cat-shaped lunchbox. You then wrap your arms around your husband’s waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I know it’s hard. Believe me, if this wasn’t the best thing for her, I would pack her up in a Tae-and-Y/N-shaped bubble and she would just never leave…but it is.”

He makes a noise of complaint. “The guys will have families and kids eventually! They can be her friends, and then we don’t have to lose Taehee and Appa time every Thursday morning before he has to run off to work.”

“We just have to reschedule that. Maybe Appa can go to work in the morning instead, so he can see his daughter that afternoon,” you reminded him, grinning at the resulting grimace on his face. He always like to sleep a bit longer on those days and make breakfast as a family. 

You sigh. “I know, babe. We’ll figure out something, okay? For now, it’s just for weekday mornings while I’m at the office. Now go check on her, okay?”

He walks out of the kitchen and down the hallway, to the first open door on the right. Taehee’s playing on the floor with her toys, wearing her ladybug dress and bumble bee clips in her hair. “Hey, sweetie, it’s time to go,” he says, but then completely contradicts this statement by sitting down next to her and picking up a doll to join her.

Knowing your husband quite well, you appeared in the doorway moments later, hand rested on your hip.

“Right,” Taehyung says as he stands up, picking Taehee up as he does. “Do you want to take any of these with you to daycare?”

She looks down at the floor, a frown forming on her forehead, before she points at her bed instead. His old hiphop monster.

Taehyung turns the most pitiful, pleading look to you, which you steadfastly ignore because you know you’ll break if you see it.

Originally posted by jimins-bootae

Jimin 

“Do you want a piece of banana?” Jimin asks your daughter, holding up a small slice of banana in one hand and a slice of strawberry in the other. “Or strawberry?”

“Tawbry,” Minji answers with a smile and a clap of her hands.

“Good choice.” He smiles as he hands her the fruit, watching as she just holds it against her mouth and nibbles on it. He looks up at you and bites his lip at your daughter’s absolute cuteness. “Appa loves strawberries too. Do I get to have one?”

Minji mulls that question over before shaking her head, small pigtails flapping against her chubby cheeks. Jimin gasps and whines, “Why not?” and you shake your head at their antics from the adjacent couch. 

You’re in the waiting room at Inkigayo, where the boys will be performing their recent comeback songs in four hours time, sitting on the couches and having an afternoon snack with your daughter Minji. The other boys are scattered around the room, Jin and Yoongi having their make-up done, Namjoon laying down and listening to their songs. Hoseok is doing a V app session in the corner, which you know will be heading this way any minute. Kookie is sitting on the sofa next to Jimin, who’s holding Minji in his lap, while Tae sits next on the couch opposite you, watching Minji with the biggest grin on his face. You can already tell he’s going to head home to his wife that night and beg her to start a family.

What can you say? Minji’s just that freaking cute.

“And over here, we have the real star of the show,” Hoseok is saying as he makes his way into the seating area. “Ah, really, though, she’s just the cutest little A.R.M.Y. And her Eomma’s not bad either.”

“Hey.” You throw one of the decorative couch pillows at him, but he jumps out of the way laughing. “Watch yourself, J-Hope.”

“J-Hope-ahjussi still hasn’t learned to mind his manners around your eomma, despite the time she absolutely roasted him in a rap battle. And that’s why he will forever by called–”

“Yah, this brat,” Hoseok shouts over Jimin, taking offense to the ‘ahjussi.’ “Say hello to A.R.M.Y., Minji!” 

She looks up from her strawberry and waves her other hand, her eyes blinking slowly into the camera.

“Ah! The number of hearts just spiked by like fifty thousand!” 

Jimin laughs, his arm tightening gently around your daughter.

Originally posted by cloudjimin

Jungkook 

You’re hopping down from the scene set, thanking the staging assistant who hands you a bottle of water. The lead actress of a period TV series, you’re wearing heavy traditional robes and a long wig, and it’s so hot that the studio has turned the air conditioner to a temperature resembling deep winter. Your costar has collapsed into a nearby chair, fanning himself with two plates. You head over to your bag to check your phone for any messages from your husband, when a shout echoes through the set.

“Eomma!”

You’d know that little shout anywhere. 

You follow the sound of the voice, calling your two year-old son’s name, when something collided with your legs. You look down to see Jiyong, dressed in a tiny baseball cap, a red jacket and white t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. You gasp excitedly, reaching down to pick him up, carefully keeping his shoes away from your dress. “Hi, little man! What are you doing here?”

He giggles happily, flashing that sweet smile he inherited from his dad. “Appa brought me.”

“He did?” You turn around and see Jungkook standing by your set chair, resting Jiyong’s travel bag on the seat. “Well, that was super nice of him, wasn’t it. He must have known how much I was missing you.” Jiyong presses his face into your neck, his hand tightening against one of the folds of your robes. He’s usually pretty shy around large crowds and strangers. 

“You’re sweet,” you say to Jungkook, sidling closer and giving him a quick kiss. “I’m surprised Yoongi let you leave so close to your next comeback.”

“He might not know that I’m taking an extra long lunch,” he replies with a mischievous grin, leaning forward to pick up your son’s tiny hand and wave it around.

“You’re gonna be in big trouble,” you laugh, bouncing Jiyong higher on your hip. “I’ll let the director know I’m taking lunch now.”

Jungkook nudges a small cooler on the ground. “Hyung made your favorite, and for the record, I helped.”

You roll your eyes.

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

A/N: So cute <3

OKAY LETS GUESS WHAT MOVIE I WAS WATCHIN

you guessed it

Big Hero 6 and I noticed something about Tadashi’s shirt while watching the part when Hiro meets Fred and dude,

You can see the creases and wrinkles on his T-shirt.

Some from wear and tear, because it seems like this San Fransokyo T-shirt is one of his favorites, and some probably from hanging up in his closet and rubbing against his other clothing because Tadashi doesn’t have the time to use the wrinkle release on the dyer when he washes his clothes.

You’ve got a similar pattern on his cardigan, more specifically, on the back of his cardigan, on the shoulders. though I imagine this one is because the fabric of his cardigan gets wrinkled under the fabric of his Green Jacket.

It’s sort of interesting that Disney would put so much into a character who only lasted for 15 minutes(Sob), so much so, that we can see bits of his personality and his antics in simple things like his clothing/wrinkles/and how he wears them.

Like, Disney didn’t have to put this into the movie, people probably wouldn’t notice either way because you really gotta be focused to see small, details like this on a supporting character, but they did.

And it’s freakin’ amazing.

anonymous asked:

on the rare times whizzer has to get up earlier than marvin for work he leaves little sticky notes all over the house for marv!! like one on his pillow that says "good morning i love you hope you have a good day xoxo" & then one on the fridge that says "dont u DARE even think about eating those fruity pebbles. those are jason's. eat your grapefruit and be a good boy." and he leaves a note on the closet door that says "i ironed your light green shirt this morning please wear it with the grey tie"

to me (bodhi/cassian)

They’re laying in a patch of overgrown grass, a few miles away from the airfield, when Cassian tells Bodhi he loves him.

It’s itchy, the grass. Green blades tickle at his bare neck and he just knows that when they head back to the base, he’ll be covered in red scratches. It’ll clash horribly with his orange jumpsuit and Cassian will no doubt laugh at him, but Bodhi will just grin and shove a handful of the grass down the back of his shirt.

But before that, before he even dares to think about needing to get back, Cassian tells Bodhi he loves him.

Keep reading

Off the field, it's no game.

This was requested, hope you guys like it. AU where he’s a jock.

***

Sneaking past gates and walking to the boys’ locker-room periodically isn’t your specialty, but when your boyfriend calls you an hour before a game anguished because he left his game undershirt at home, you had to be the decent girlfriend and go get his undershirt.
The locker room doors open and your 6 foot tall, green eyed, football player walks out, appearing to be half a mess. You stifle a laugh, observing how he has one cleat taped with athletic tape, the other foot wearing just a sock, meanwhile both wrists are taped as well. His game pants are on and all that is covering his relatively tanned body is a workout shirt that reveals his terrible tan lines from his jersey -due to practicing all summer and fall. “Game shirt, please tell me you have your jersey.” You hand him the undergarment with his number printed on the sleeve. “Ha-ha, hilarious.” He rolls his eyes, evidently not in the best of spirit. Pregame football players can be a bit restless and standoffish, it comes with getting their heads in the game and marking their territory. “Are we meeting after the game?” You mildly request, other players walking out of the locker-room, and walking straight into the training room. “I don’t know, you gotta go before everyone sees.” He clears his throat, you breathe a sigh and roll your eyes. “Good-luck.” You reply, walking away as a few of his mates shove him back into the locker room. Dating the prized football player has its perks, but also has its disadvantages, especially when he’s a starter and isn’t meant to have time to have a girlfriend. Football jocks are intended to spend their time focusing on studies and the next rival game, remembering game plays, making sure to bench press and hit their maxes; athletes are not suggested to have time for girlfriends and participating in romance. Ask any coach who’s trying to get their players signed to division one teams, they’ll tell you there’s no time for sweethearts.

The sweet smell of fresh grass on a colder September night fills your senses as does the sound of everyone cheering in the stands as yet another touch down is put on the scoreboard. “Is this over yet, this is the longest game?” Your friend laments as she sits back down on the bleachers, “it’s fourth quarter, there’s three minutes left.” You answer back, your eyes drawing back to the playing field,
“I’m so damn bored.” She discloses, dragging your attention away from the game, “watch the game.” You moan, beckoning towards the field,
“My boyfriend was taken our third quarter.” She says with a sigh and you ignore her, flicking your eyes back to the game, abruptly applauding a little extra as your boyfriend gets the interception. “Has he managed to keep you under the radar still?” Your friend questions, distinctly having no interest in permitting you to watch the rest of the game. “Yes, he’s a popular football player, he doesn’t need the school knowing we’re dating.” You respond, listening to the buzzer and the crowd of students and parents cheering, the band playing vociferously as the players begin to form their line on the field to ceremoniously shake their competitors hand and gracefully claim the victory.

You make your way down the bleachers and walk along the fence of the field, trying to weave in and out of the disorderly crowd of parents and zestful girlfriends. “Are you not waiting outside the locker room for him?” Your friend gently tugs your arm gesturing for you to go with the parents and other girlfriends to the Locker room. You shake your head and walk the opposite direction to the concession stand where you purchase a hydrating drink. You avert your eyes at your phone and see a text,

“Meet behind the gates in five.” -Harry.

You do as you’re instructed and await tolerantly behind the gates, observing as the last person leaves the field. After a few moments the stadium lights turn off and you see a shadow walking towards you, “hi.” Harry greets as he gets closer to you, “hey, how are you?” You interrogate, taking note of his slight hobble,
“Sore, very sore.” He dryly responds and you offer him the drink you previously brought, “you look like you need it.” You crack a smile, watching as he lets out a stiff chuckle, “you look like you need a jacket.” He announces, dropping his bag to the ground, granting you his jacket. You graciously take it, sliding it up your arms while he chugs your drink. “So, why we here? we might get seen.” You quaintly examine, a little smile forming on his lips, “why do you think I had the lights turned off?” He retorts with a sneaky grin,
“You have the power to do that?” You cross your arms, wondering as to whether he is shit stirring you or not.
“Yup, my friend works the tech stuff in the press box,” he merely responds, his hands resting on your hips, delicately pulling you closer to his body. He’s still hot and sweat-soaked despite changing clothes, good thing is he smells divine. “You played well tonight.” You nervously grin, feeling a little anxious as you look into his radiant green eyes; there’s something about the way he appears after a football game that has you utterly drooling and begging for mercy. “Eh, I did okay.” He shrugs in all modesty, leaning down and lavishing your lips with his kiss, not allowing you to drown him in praises. Your wrap your arms around his neck warily, not knowing what parts of his body hurts and which parts are still numb from the game. He deepens the kiss and captivates you, intriguing you further and further into his relentless kiss. His hands move down and he graciously lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waists, your body’s closer together. For someone that played a hell of a game and is aching, he’s one hell of a good kisser.
Who said after-game celebrations had to be at a party getting drunk?
You hear the sound of the other gates closing and you gently unhook your legs and he pulls away leisurely, “damnit.” He mumbles and you can’t help but place another small kiss on his lips. “I have to go,” he sighs already picking up his bag,
“You know, we wouldn’t have to hide if you’d just give in.” You breathe a sigh, observing as he lowers his eyes before looking back at you, he places a hand to your cheek, kissing you lightly. “I can’t, not until the season is over.” He says in a low voice, your eyes leaving his as you step away from him, unsettled that you’re a secret because of his reputation he has to uphold, not to mention his somewhat popular/arrogant demeanour. “C'mon y/n, don’t give me that look.” He groans and you begin to take his jacket off,
“You have to go, your team is waiting for you to celebrate with them and get blind drunk.” You answer, dangling his jacket in front of him, beckoning for him to take it back. With a heavy sigh he grabs it, displeased with your antics. “Meet me before workouts on Monday?” He questions and you roll your eyes,
“No,” you respond, beginning to walk away but his hand grasps your wrist,
“C'mon, you know I’m busy this weekend scouting to play college football,” he enlightens you, his bright green eyes becoming dark, his voice becoming deeper as he begins to get irritated. “Get back to me when I’m not your hidden secret.” You sternly show reaction, “you played well on the field Harry, but off the field you’re playing me like a game, and it’s not okay.” You announce, watching as he bites his lip,
“Fine,” he let’s go of your wrist allowing you to walk away. “The gate’s locked.” Harry chuckles as you get closer to the general admissions gate. You turn to face him, taking note as he has a bright grin on his face. “C'mon, come with me.” He offers his hand, but you don’t take it, you’re doubtful. “Oh, wow, can’t hold a man’s hand after he plays a tough game?” He engages in playful teasing, breaking a smile from your face; you take harrys hand. He leads the way to the second gate the players use to get to the locker room after games, “but everyone will see.” You whisper only for him to shrug,
“They’ll get over it. You’re my girlfriend, I shouldn’t hide you.” He responds, taking you by astonishment while he walks you past the locker rooms, out the gates, and towards the parking lot full of other football players.