he keeps smirking its not funny

EXO (OT9) reaction - You bring out the ultimate sass in a fight

okay, this was a hella funny request. This person requested EXO’s reaction when you fought like this Instagram video https://www.instagram.com/p/BSmaMaeDUc0/

Enjoy and Request!


He would be giving you a deadpan face look throughout your whole rant and be chuckling on the inside whilst listening. When you had finally finished, he would look at you for a moment before raising an eyebrow. He would then slowly stand up , and whilst not breaking any eye contact with you, he would walk over to you, the height difference being in his favour and smirk down at you before starting his side of the argument.

“Girl,i know you did not just try to outsass me”

Originally posted by sinoosijak


He would be staring at you in shock whilst listening but not fully listening. ‘Wow…i did not know that Y/N had this side to her, not gonna lie, she is actually quite hot when she is sassy’ he would be thinking. You on the other hand, would have finished and would be screaming out ‘BAEKHYUN ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?’ He would shake out of his thoughts before quickly pulling you towards you.

“Alright Jagi, im sorry, lets kiss and make up”

Originally posted by baekvanilla


Chanyeol would act as if he was listening intensely to what you were saying but humming sounds of agreement and nodding his head from time to time, but really he would be dying on the inside. Once you were finished they would be a moment of silent. You were thinking that you might have gone to far but that was quickly diminished by chanyeol’s loud laughter. You glared at him while laughing.

“Oh god Y/N, i didnt know you had it in you”

Originally posted by chanhyun


Now , Jongin, Jongin would be in absolute shock. He is used to seeing his kind, always agreeing, never any problems girlfriend. So when you finally snapped at the dinner table whilst he made a not so nice remark about your new style, he was in shock. All he could do was sit there in shock whilst you went on and on. Once you were finally done, you put your hands on your hips as you stared down at him with an eyebrow raised.

“I-I-Im sorry Y/N”

Originally posted by cyberspaz


Oh god. Poor Yixing. He would not even be sure on why he deserved that little sassy outburst he had just received from you. And lets be completely honest, Lay is just a precious angel. You had probably just had an awful day at work, encountering with rude-ass people all day long and Yixing just happens to be the first person daring enough to walk up to you and ask how was your day. He would slowly take a few steps back away from you and hold his hands out in defence.

“ummmm I’m sorry?”

Originally posted by yixinzhg


Brah. Jonmyeon would have none of it. If anything, he would just be entertained by the little show you had just put on. When you were finished, he would not say anything. This got you even more irritated and ended up with you saying ‘Say something , you idiot!’. He would not say anything. He just slowly got up and walked over to you and lifted you chin to face him and stare at his now darkened eyes whilst he smirked at you mischievously.

“well, then. Looks like someone needs to be taught a little respect, won’t you agree Y/N”

Originally posted by irpsychotic


Girl, i pray for you. I actually pray for you. You have actually guts. To stand in front of kyungsoo whilst he was sitting on the couch and full out sass him. You would not even be halfway through your speech before he gave you the satansoo look. That was when you knew you messed up. You chocked in the middle of your speech as you saw his dark eyes and slowly started back out of the room. Not before he caught your wrist and gave you a devilish smirk.

“No No, finish your speech Jagi”

Originally posted by exoticnctlife


Minseok would probably have the same reaction as Chanyeol. The Only difference is that he would be laughing throughout your rant, not even trying to keep it to himself. By the time you were finished, or stopped because you were getting annoyed with his laughing, he would be on the floor clenching his stomach from the pain of laughing to much. ‘Its not funny! i’m being serious Minseok!’. He would nod before standing up to hug you tightly.

“Oh god Y/N, you have no idea how cute you were just now”

Originally posted by blasianpotato


Jongdae would first be in shock. He would be thinking  ‘Wow, is this really the same girl that i have been dating for this whole time?’ as this would be the first time you have sassed him out. However, once he had gotten over the initial shock, he would be suppressing little giggles here and now until you had finally finished your rant. He would then stand up, applauding sarcastically as he made his way over to you whilst smirking.

“Well done Y/N, but now its my turn”

Originally posted by overnightprincess

#1 Clayton Keller

can u do a clayton keller one where you two are best friends and very snarky and sarcastic with each other but it TURNS OUT that he actually has a huge crush on you and this is just how he flirts and you overhear him talking about it with a teammate and you’re just like ‘ooooohh so that’s what this has been’


song suggestion: Milk by the 1975

Originally posted by werenskiz

“Go get your daily coffee fix or I am not driving you home.”

“Because what else would I do in a coffee shop?” you rolled your eyes. It was way too early for this shit. For his shit. Sure, you could be a little grumpy in the mornings but that was not the lack of caffeine. That was you being woken up way too early because Clayton wanted you to meet him and chych after practice before you both road tripped it back up to Missouri. 

At least you went back to your normal self after a couple of hours, or, as clayton suggested, a cup of coffee. Meanwhile, Clayton had been stuck perpetually in sarcastic morning mode since that one time you’d dragged him out of bed for a spontaneous off-season road trip last year. You could deal, he was still your bestest friend in the world but he tended to get on your nerves so much more than usual. 

Keep reading

Fan fiction: Proper Ventilation

Proper Ventilation

By: Shantelle, SheWhoFacesTheSun

The Get Down Fanfiction

Pairing: Dizzee x Thor

Word Count: 6,138


Part 1

Summary: Dizzee explores his inner world on his way to meet Thor.

Blistering sunshine and city noise poured though the window as Dizzee Kipling rolled over in bed, the sheets sticking to his skin. Opening his eyes slowly and gently, he faced a new day. The sun heated his chest, seeming to light him a flame with an itching burning, energy. Down the street the sound of drums and tambourines echo loudly between the tall buildings and dirty stairwells.

Man, drum beats in the air this early and it throbs my heart in time to it, thinks Dizzee to himself as he squints, trying hard to study his unchipped nails, the polish glinting in the new angles.

 “Dizzee? Dizzee, are you awake man?” comes Ra Ra’s voice from the narrow hall, “Mom made breakfast. You better hurry up if you want some.”  

Dizzee lazily pulled himself from the damp sheets, reaching up to tug at clumps of his kinky afro. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and smiles. His lips still managing to appear pouting despite his grin and rosy cheeks. Shaking his head, he dresses quickly, trading his sweaty night clothes for his striped bell bottoms and a wine colored fitted muscle shirt. Standing at full height, he slips on several beaded and corded bracelets, a ring and his two favorite necklaces.

 After a quick stop to the bathroom, and feeling mildly refreshed, Dizzee sits down at the already full table. He trades smiles with his little brother Boo Boo, who has a face full of eggs. “What’s up brother?”, he asks with a glint in his eyes, “Get enough sleep?”

Ra-Ra looks up, and nudges his shoulder, “Stop Boo, leave him alone. It’s too early.”

“Nah, he had a late night too. I wanna hear more about this Thor guy,” Boo said, his eyebrows bouncing obnoxiously, clearly betraying serious his interest, even though his voice is still light.  “Is he nice?”

“I said leave it,” answers Ra, looking Dizzee in his eyes and noticing his big brother let out a sigh of relief. Even Yolanda glanced over at his sharp tone. Picking up his fork, Dizzee looks around the bustling room, enjoying feeling of fondness and affection that blossomed in his stomach. Yolanda shimmied in her seat as their dad crooned an old song to her from his place at the head of the table.

“You girls are coming up so quick. I can’t believe it. This Jackie man, he’s good? That good?” Dad questions, his deep voice sounding jazzy, although his words were straight forward.

“Yes Dad! Of course he is. I told you we gonna be big disco stars! We’ve been practicing so hard. Its like it’s meant to be. Mylene was right,” Yolanda responds. Her hair seeming to vibrate with excitement.

“Cool it girl, I believe ya. My babies all have talent. Look at me,” He gestures grandly to himself, then tapped a beat out on the table top, “I’m simply magnificent myself, why wouldn’t you be, Sunshine? Look around, we’re all stars! Even Boo Boo.”

“Hey! I’m the funny one. With the quickest hands on the block,” Boo jeers, pretending to hit a punching bag above his messy plate. “You need to be ready to keep hittin’ them books when school starts back up,” Dad yells with a cool smirk painting its way across his face.

Mom smiles to herself too, as he turns back and continued sing-talking to Yolanda. Ra Ra rolls up his current comic and finally digs into his pancakes. Dizzee can’t help but think of his family as mosaic of color and sound. Zeke was right to compare the Get Down Brothers to different instruments. Everyone has beautiful unique sound. And what is sound without color, in a section of the world this clouded with darkness, fear and temptation?

“What do you boys have planned for today?” Mom asks, slipping into her own seat.

“Well Ma, since you asked so kindly,” starts Ra Ra, as he tapped his rolled up comic book on his skinny thigh, “I’m going to chill with Shaolin and see if we can come up with some kind of business plan for the Get Down Brothers now that he’s been given the clear to deejay again.” Ra liked Shao but wasn’t too sure Shao liked him or his brothers. He was determined to find out and make some money in the progress. Ra Ra understood great teams didn’t just form strong bonds instantly, not even in comics, but he wanted to see how far they could grow in this city of broken dreams and concrete hearts.

“I’mma go down to the arcades, win myself enough tickets for some candy and meet myself a fly girl,” he chuckles loudly to himself, rubbing his hands together. “Whatever Boo, no girl want you. Take some time this summer to focus on growing,” Yolanda wise cracked before sipping her orange juice. Ra Ra stifled a chuckle while passing Dizzee the tray of cooling bacon.

“Its cool Boo,” starts Dizzee in a mellow tone, “You might be small. But you’re not small. Hear this man, you are the universe in delirious undulation. You flow.” 

 Boo Boo stares, then blinks and shakes his head laughing. “You weird. If you mean I’m flier than Michael Jackson, I can dig it.” Ra Ra smiles, turning the page of his book adding in, “Good weird my man, the best kind of weird. Its like your super power Dizz.”

Dizzee glanced at his brothers, spacing out a bit. Everyone is always calling me weird. They are always laughing at me, he thinks to himself, but I’m just trying to think deeply for all of us. We are all but fireworks in this great universe. I am reaching for new treasure in daily life, using words to spread love and become art. Life is art. Right? Maybe my mind is just flying freely, fearlessly. He takes a long sip of his warming orange juice.

“Dizzee? Dizzee?” enters his mother’s voice through the hazy fog of his thoughts. “Yeah?”

“I asked what you were going to doing today? I don’t want you getting into any more trouble. I want my babies safe. This summer has already had its fair share of madness.”

 His mother face was soft with worry and gentleness. Dizzee loved his mother. They both carried tender spaces within them and saw opportunities for creativity when others saw only ruins. Like the moon, they both went through phases. And in the darkness of night and the overwhelming brokenness of this metropolis, people just mistook it for weakness.

 “Uh, I’m just gonna chill at The Writer’s Bench and walk around a little.”

“Just walk around he says,” injects Dad, “Don’t believe that for a hot minute. Don’t be spraying all over the city. Keep them hands clean boy.”

Dizzee looks down briefly before saying, “I won’t. I told you I’m into pop art now.”

Everyone began to clear the table and walk their dishes over to the sink. “Yo, Dizz, you really going to The Bench?” whispers Ra as they start rinsing their plates off shoulder to shoulder.

 “Yeah, Thor wants to meet back up so we can plan a piece together.” Ra looks out of the corner of his eye, skeptical. “Really? I don’t want to be in all in your business man but,” he pauses, “forget it. I just want you to be yourself.” Ra may always have his nose in a book but he’s rarely out of the loop, and is always looking for hints in the world around him. For him life is a comic book and we’re all discovering our powers, second by second. He refuses to miss any of character development.

 “Honestly man, fuck. Reason is powerless in the face of…,” Dizzee trails off, staring out the window into the bright blue sky. Ra Ra examines his face intensely, then looks away. “Do yo thing. Good luck on your next piece. I’ll see you later.” Ra steps back and dries his hands on the towel near the windowsill, slapping Dizzee’s shoulders before walking back to his room. Dizzee stands alone in the empty kitchen, soaking in the residual energy of every member of his family. He feels full but he also feels empty. It’s like there was a hollow space inside of him. He feels emotion pass though it, briefly sustaining him, but never satisfying him as deeply as he instinctually knows it should. Picking up the same old towel, Dizzee dries his hands, noticing his polish chipping off in smooth pieces. He immediately experiences the loss.

 Stopping in the small living room to grab his messenger bag, checking for his sketch books, LSD tabs, drawing markers and graphite pencils. I’ve got all that I need right here, he thinks as he slips quietly out the door, making sure it’s locked tight.

The hallway is much dimmer than his home was, and it feels chilled in the darkness. Walking gracefully, Dizzee shoves his hands into his pockets and starts down the stairs. Seen and unseen. Moving and unmoving. I am that, he thinks as his feet pound out a fast cadence. “Should I take this trip now?” questions his voice within him. He stops in the doorway to the street, and pulls out a tab of LSD and slips it into his mouth. He wonders only for a moment if he looks like a young brown god savoring the moment before taking an offered delicacy, and tastes his own finger tips as it starts to dissolve.

Dizzee sighs, feeling his conscious self relax and release with his measured exhale. Time to run from all which is comfortable. Forget safety. From this point on I’ll be a little mad, whispers his mind again.

The sunshine again lights Dizzee’s skin with fever, as he breezed from darkened hallway of his building. Gingerly swinging his arms in time to his heart beat and foot falls, Dizzee took off down the side walk, noticing the slow shift of color saturations as he traveled. Grays melted into whites. The varying shades of Bronx browns and blacks shimmer and glitter. The noisy voices of people and machinery ebbed and flowed with his focus. It’s like he could flip in between many invisible lens as his head turned back and forth.

Several minutes into his journey Dizzee’s mind takes notice of the moisture gathering in his top lip. Stopping at the cross walk, he slips his tongue out sensuously, and samples himself. Behind his eyes he imagines Thor, his own vigilant suitor, dancing in the afterglow of their kiss. The very ozone around them was so tight and high with their nervousness and delight. They were drunk on each other. A harsh push from behind almost sent him to the dirty ground.

“Hey faggot, some of us got places to be!” The shout comes a man, built of narrow bones and thin, rigid muscles. He was completely decked out in red checked pants and a tight brown printed button up. His eyes were completely blocked by large, dark sunglasses. For a second, Dizzee stops breathing. His head snaps around and his eyes darken with grief before he puts on a cordial smile.

“Hey man. It’s all cool. It’s all cool,” he countered. The older man wipes his hands on his pants and swerves around him smoothly.

Dizzee’s feet move lethargically, as the sheen of tears forced him to blink. If only this hot place could speak with the language of love. But it’s too much of a slaughterhouse to hearts like mine, he thinks to himself as he carries forward to the subway. How can I fly if I’m always picking myself up and need patch my own wings?

Again, Dizzee enter the darkness, leaving the sunshine hanging between the horizon and the Bronx’s smog painted skyline.

Like an unnatural cave, the subway station smells of urine, trash and the pungent funk of sweaty, sour bodies. He could feel the odor crawling over his still warm flesh, cementing itself to his clothes like expired perfume. His lungs struggled to expand as the sounds fluctuated in intensity around him. The clicking of a woman’s heels stood out first, like shrill punctuation. He could see the sound. It was red and bloody and mature. He could hear the swoosh of the doors opening, suddenly reminding him that he had some were to be. The counterfeit lightning flickered above, making Dizzee picture the ceiling being filled with fireflies and dimming flashbulbs.

For an instant he could feel his jaw slacken and his body calm before he came back to into himself. His bag bounced against his hip as he slipped deeper into the crowds. As Dizzee weaved with confidence through the tightly paced space, the dark stains on the ground swirled into lively pastel colors between the feet of his fellow patrons. In the empty space across the tracks Dizzee could see what looked like steam curling up from the railways. The graffiti on the pillars wiggled, jerked and twitched whenever Dizzee glanced their way. He felt less like himself but he could appreciate his world without judgment. He easily pictured himself as an alien among a new species, like shades of himself, walking across the surface of his consciousness. Dizzee pulled a thick marker out his bag, and rolled it in between his palms. It helped him think.

“To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man,” yells a homeless man, wearing grungy khaki pants and a large cross pendent, laid out beside a pillar. Dizzee examines his face, noticing how his wrinkles appear to thaw like ice cream and slip into a younger mask, one lacking pain and weariness. Looking to his left, he spots a couple trying to discover each other with hands, eyes and finger tips. The two were are molded to each other like wet clay. With every second, they appeared to grow big and bigger until he finally walked toward them, passing silently, only for them to expand in details before they started to shrink back down to nothing but star dust and ash.

Every thing around him seemed to slow down, and pulse, as his train came into the station. His breath stops. When the doors slid open, and he immediately sees himself reflected in the scratched up windows. He looked sad. His faced shifting and appeared to liquefy then suddenly snap back into shape. Shaking his head, he stepped on. Looking around he found an empty seat and leaned back, happy to feel the cool metal and plastic against his skin.

The train wasn’t too crowed and the chatter of the passengers wasn’t too loud. The inside of the car was coated with thick lines of graffiti. Bubble letters and sharp words were stacked on top of each other, overlapping and dancing on the walls. Dizzee watched them. There was a pale girl sitting across from him. Her thick unruly hair was pulled into a side pony tail, and sprinkled with steel gray bobby pins. Dizzee noticed that the cover of her book was in Spanish.

He secretly admired the shapeliness of her thighs in her bellbottoms, and wondered if they were soft and doughy in the tight denim. Farther down, a group of kids laughed and joked, poking each other and sliding in the seats. Laughter is so pure, he thinks, giggling to himself. One kid split off from the group, walking over to Dizzee.

“Hey, wanna piece of candy? We got extra,” he says. The boy looked older than his friends, about 10 or 11 years old. He wore a pair of bright white knee socks and a too-small tee shirt.

“Yeah, little man. I’ll take a piece. Thanks,” answers Dizzee, as a Sugar Daddy sucker fell into his palm. The boy reaches out and pats Dizzee’s large afro.

The boy nods his head, like he’s agreeing with himself about something and grins, bopping back to his friends. Dizzee looked down at the candy, studying the waxy paper like it held the answers to the universe. Opening it slowly, he relished the sugary smell of the caramel. He leisurely put it in his mouth. It tasted like the sweetest thing in the entire world and it was like time slowed down, allowing him to apprise the different textures of the treat. He could feel his tongue and cheeks maneuvering over the thin layer sticking to his molars, and with great effort, he felt it release and get pushed to the back of his mouth.

The train continued to move for what felt like hours. Reaching into his bag, Dizzee pulled out his sketch book. Unlike the one for his signatures, it was worn around the edges and the cover was held on with thick strips of duct tape. He flipped past Rumi quotes, original poems, and realistic portraits. His brothers have only see his train burners. He would never expose them to his realer stuff, fearing critique and laughter. People prefer you exist as they have always expected you too, never stepping out of those lines, he thinks.

He pauses on the parts were pages have been ripped out. Those are the one he tries to hide even from himself, tucking them away in the attic with his cans of Krylon, waiting until the day he felt brave enough to see those thoughts in the light of day.

Dizzee pulls out a box of pencils a starts to sketch, his lines fine and delicate. Inside of him lies a door that he keeps locked. He starts to draw the alien in the top hat, feeling the shallow grooves in the paper were the pulp dried loosely. What is it you fear the most, he asks himself quietly? Rejection? Reality? Don’t they say the truth will set you free? What is my truth? I don’t have the answer to that yet for I am but a pilgrim still, he finishes.

The intercom crackles with static. A grainy voice announces Dizzee’s stop as next. Quickly placing his things back in his bag, Dizzee stands ready to pass the threshold. Looking around the car one more time, he casts his gaze toward the girl and the kids and the wiggling graffiti. His face appears vacant. The doors slide open and he moves forward. Swoosh.

The platform was bustling with people but Dizzee ignored them and headed for the stairs. Exiting the tunnel, he could smell rain and steam. The sky was still bright blue, but the ground was littered with wet trash and oily puddles. Each puddle is made of a thousand rain drops, each one holds a story of its journey, he thought, staring down as he walked. The sounds of passing cars pulled him out of his thoughts once again. On a small stoop he spots a beautiful couple kissing. They were both so beautiful, and intriguing. The woman had long, thick dreadlocks, and wore a loose lavender sundress. The man had dark cocoa brown skin that appeared to glowed in the light. He was all hard lines and tough muscles. She was soft, supple and yearning. Her feet were bare, and her toes were painted a cool shade of turquoise.

Could I hold her like that? Would she lay, soft sides exposed in my arms? What does she smell like, paprika and chocolate or sugar cane and lemonade? I would love to feel her nimble fingers rooming through my kinky curls, he thinks. Suddenly his focus shifts.

What if I was her, he thinks, his chest tight with apprehension. Would he feel just as solid as he looks? My hands would pass gently over his swollen arms and come to rest on the nape of his neck. Would his mustache tickle? Would I enjoy the texture of his chest hair against my own body?

Dizzee looks away suddenly feeling ashamed of himself. These are the thoughts he tries to purge onto paper and put under lock and key. But maybe they aren’t bad thoughts. Maybe they are just a different side of himself, a side that has always been there. Like the shadow behind his smiles, it’s just a part of him that he doesn’t quite know yet.

Dizzee keeps walking, priding himself on only looking back at the beautiful couple once. The giver or the receiver. He could be both with ease. He would fit either role. He could trade places with many characters of love. Again, he thinks of Thor and breaths deeply.

Dizzee continues walking, and decides to cut through a small park on a whim. Any park in this city is a splendid oasis. It’s a break from the stone and steel. This particular park had several wide flower beds, smelling of pollen and infatuation. He saw pansies, daisies, rose bushes and many brightly colored tulips. Their petals were perky and healthy despite the intense heat of the summer. He walked unhurriedly through the greenery. Here he felt at peace. Unbound by his name, free from his sadness, and time.

A bee drifts into his line of sight and steals his attention. Dizzee’s mind split then, into a thousand multicolored fragments. Linking and unlinking, as the bee drifted to a daffodil. The flower had a masculine face, and the bee kissed its way down the style in the middle. Dizzee kneeled down on the path, waiting for it to emerge. When it did, it was covered in dusty, yellow powder. The bee danced and shook happily, bouncing back into the humid air. Dizzee followed its journey closely, still kneeling. The bee took off toward a daisy. This time its face was lady-like, and landed gently on its cheeks. The bee kissed this one too. The yellow dust sticking to it again, thick and bright.

Here in this garden, Dizzee accepted himself. He was like a bee. I have seen your descent, dear garden bee, he spoke to himself, now I will watch you rising, for love is like a water. Who decided if the pond or the river is more fit to taste? Men. Women. Men. Women. Men. Both. Feelings.

Dizzee grinned and continued walking through the twisting path. Eventually the foliage gave way to the hard concrete of the city. Back on the sidewalk, Dizzee continued toward The Writer’s Bench. He past several store fronts. Some of the signs painted in windows, and others were brightly printed on cloth. Trash stuck in wet, ugly clumps in the gutter. He was passing a window that had posters advertising hair products when he noticed a panel of vivid colors. Nail polish.

Glancing down at his hands and saw that almost all of his was gone. Dizzee’s own blank nails were pale, even ovals. Why not start over, he thought to himself, opening the door.

The space wasn’t very big, but it was packed full of inventory. Dizzee’s eyes skimmed over the many shelves and counters. He was impressed. It was like any art store, but instead of walls and canvas, they focused on bodies and hairstyle. Walking down the narrow isles he swept his finger tips over the stiff bottles and small jars.

“Hey honey, you lookin’ to buy? Or to browse?” came a rich voice from the back. Dizzee nearly jumped out of his skin. In the back isle, on a small wooden step ladder, stood a gorgeous man. Not beautiful in the way Dizzee had been uncovering, but in the conventional way women were. The man was tall and slender, like a dancer. His skin was a reddish brown and enhanced by tastefully applied cosmetics. Dizzee loved that his hair was stretched into lovely corkscrew coils down past his shoulders.

“Uh, I’m just looking around man,” Dizzee answered, try hard to make his voice sound relaxed.

The stunning man stepped down, spreading his arms flamboyantly.

“Welcome to the Beauty Emporium, a place that nurtures beauty, style and grace in every member of the human race,” he rhymed. This dynamic, showy man was amazing.  He sauntered toward Dizzee. The store was currently empty, so Dizzee was his only audience.

“Well, Honey, what are you looking for today?” he questioned. Dizzee stood awkwardly, feeling a mixture of fear and fascination, much like he did in the art gallery party nights ago. He held his bare nails up, shifting his messenger bag to his left shoulder.

“My hands are my tools, and I come here seeking an expression of new beginnings,” he answered, his voice cracking a bit.

The man walked until he stood in front of Dizzee, gently grabbing his hands. He turned them this way, and that several times.

“Honey, you are indeed a little work of art. You must be searching for some color in a world that’s not always so bright,” he finally said, taking in Dizzee’s androgynous features and clear complexion.

Dizzee rarely met people that understood exactly what he meant, and in such a short interaction.

“My name is Eugene,” said, letting go of Dizzee’s hands. He turned and walked behind another small counter. Eugene bent down and pulled out several glass bottles of polish and a smaller version of the chart in the window.

“I’m Dizzee.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Dizzee,” responded Eugene. “Take a look at this chart and see what catches your eye. Have you worn nail polish before?” the question standing out over the closing and opening of several drawers.

Dizzee stepped up to the glass counter and looked over the chart closely. “Um, only once? Is that okay? I mean I’m…,” Eugene had been watching him closely from the corner of his eyes and cut him off with a practiced eases.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to clarify,” Eugene said, shaking several of the little bottles jammed between his long fingers, much like Dizzee would rattle up his spray paints.

“We are all free to try out new things, or keep a single routine.” Eugene gestured to himself.

“You know, give the people something to look up to. I personally like to switch it up and keep it fresh. I like not being what people expect,” he proclaimed tugging on his dangling earrings with a smile. Eugene seats himself on a stool behind the counter, and does a little spin, chuckling.

Dizzee stared in awe. This soul is here for its own joy, he thought, and finally allows himself to unwind. “Yeah, that’s exactly how I try to be in my art. I spray all city, praying to uplift the people looking for the beauty in the insanity.”

“Graffiti? How fascinating. What are your favorite colors?” Dizzee considered his options, looking up from the chart, pointing to red, blue, and green.

“I wear these colors the most,” he answered. Eugene meet his eyes. “I thought this was about new beginnings. Why keep repeating the same old thing?”

Dizzee thought about Thor, the art party, and the bee. He thought about the alien in the top hat, his buttons and patches. He thought about boundaries, boxes and freedom. Finally, after what felt like years, he looked at Eugene. Brown eyes meeting, finely lined browner eyes.

“I think I’d like to wear yellow or purple,” he answers.

Eugene flips his curly hair, and undoes the top two buttons of gray and white flannel. “As an entertainer myself, I must ask that we go a little fancier. Your hands shall put on a show, a personal spectacle. I have Glittering Gold and Spirited Plum. Give me your hands love.” The names were a little showier than the actual merchandise but the names did make Dizzee smile.

Dizzee rested his hands out flat on the counter, and Eugene started painting. The store was still quiet but the sounds of the street crept in, muffled and subdued. The shop smelled like his mother, warm and comforting. The hum of the countertop fan was relaxing as well. Eugene seemed to understand that Dizzee was lost in thought and embraced the silence as well. Dizzee thought the polish smelled stronger than his aerosols. On trains Dizzee was free to spread his thoughts across the city without opening his mouth. There he was a living myth. When his trains pass, he feels accomplished and could breathe easy. His nails made him brave, and these colors made him feel beautiful too. Men. Women. Those tried of being what people expected them to always be. They should brave, beautiful and free.

“Now, sit with me for a few minutes and let these little beauties dry. I don’t want you rushing back into the streets and messing up all my good work,” Eugene said, capping the polishes.

“If I may be so forward,” Eugene asks with a smirk and twirl in his seat, “What else are you exploring today, besides new colors?”

Dizzee had hopped up on the counter, letting the artificial breeze from the fan cool his sweating face and was surprised to hear another question come his way. Thinking, he flexed his hands, observing how his thin tendons rolled beneath his tawny skin.

“I think I’m on a journey. I haven’t left the city limits, not physically any way, but my spirit is soaring to new heights. I met somebody. This somebody,” Dizzee pauses to sigh, “they make me want to be more than I thought I could ever be. And it’s new and scary and infinitely magnificent all at once.” Dizzee’s eyes began to water and he felt several tears dribble down his cheeks. Eugene leaned beside him, and reached one hand up, cupping Dizzee’s cheek. Using his manicured fingers, Eugene lightly he wiped away the tears.

Eugene shook his head. “Oh Dizzee. You poor, innocent thing. You’re just finding your wings. I know you are afraid. But when we come into this world, we are meant to learn. We don’t come out the womb complete and all knowing; otherwise, what’s the point? I’m going to try and meet you where you are.”

Dizzee wiped his nose on his wrist and sniffled, carful not to pull on his bracelets too much.

Eugene pulled Dizzee into a hug, then started pacing in the small space behind the counter.

“You can be driven by fear or by love. I want you to continue to embrace life, be art and love yourself. You are already beautiful. You are already at your destination because you’re where you are supposed to be. Don’t put any ideas on a pedestal or crawl through the world on your knees, hiding the parts of you that are Glittering Gold in the shadows. You should bloom, Dizzee. You do not need to earn freedom. Just breath and shed tears of healing, not fear.”

Dizzee looked a Eugene like he was preaching the gospel. This man was a beautiful angel. Dizzee understood that Eugene was different, different like birds of the art show party, that kind of different. Dizzee saw a light in this man, that also glowed in himself. And that was great thing.

He who cannot discover himself, cannot discover the world, Dizzee thought to himself. The two of them shared this moment, acknowledging the depth of their conversation with smiles. They shared a synchronized inhale and exhale, allowing their emotions to settle without force.

Dizzee looked again at his nails. Glittering Gold and Spirited Plum. New beginnings. New wings. Freedom to breath and just be. Dizzee could do that. He could see himself as the light, not just in it.


“Hey man, that was really deep. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest,” Dizzee says, watching Eugene as he straightened up one of the messier shelves. Dizzee rarely tells people how he feels, preferring to keep things to himself.

“That’s good to hear honey. I know we just met but I’m glad I could but you at ease,” Eugene answered. Eugene, too felt much lighter knowing his words helped somebody.

“Now come here. Let’s see if them nails are dry. It usually takes longer because of the humidity, but we’ll find out together.” Dizzee hops down, careful to hold his hands way from his body. Eugene, again, takes Dizzee’s hands in his, turning them over and holding them toward the light.

“Well, honey, their all dry. I won’t keep you much longer but I do want to give you some free samples,” Eugen says as he steps back behind the counter, this time walking closer to the register.

“Oh no that’s okay. I have money to pay,” Dizzee starts, reaching into his pockets for the few dollars he kept on him. He was happy the the colors they’d chosen, and looked forward to coming back for more.

“It’s fine honey. Think of it as my treat, from one artist to another,” Eugen replies with another secret smile, “And hopefully, I’ve also made you into a new regular Mr. Dizzee.”

“Definitely,” Dizzee answered. Eugene pulled out a small red bag and put in five small bottles of nail polish. They clinked and clacked together as they were passed over to Dizzee, who accepted them with an easy grin. My spirit is opening a new door, he thought, and what if the wall is an illusion?

Eugene pulled Dizzee into a quick hug and walked him over to the door. “Don’t be afraid to come back Dizzee.”

“I look forward to it,” replied Dizzee, stepping out the door. The hanging bell rang behind him.

The street was just as busy as it was when he entered the Beauty Emporium, but Dizzee barely noticed as he continued his walk toward The Writer’s Bench. The tab of LSD was losing its effect but Dizzee continued to notice the roses among the figurative thorns of the Bronx. Women gather in small groups, gossiping and laughing. They had wide smiles and sparkling eyes. Kids splashed joyfully in the cold spray of an open hydrant. They were all soaking wet, slipping and dipping, and their curls were kinking almost instantly. Dizzee smiled and ran though the spray, playful waving his hands in the air. He truly felt his sadness being washed away.

After a few more minutes, Dizzee started to descended the stairs into subway. He traded hellos and hand shakes with a few guys chilling on the dirty steps. They were the keepers of the gates. They were an eccentric group archangels with nothing better to do, especially now that school was out. They watched for any police coming to harass suspected writers. The best look outs.

The subway here was still dirty, the most common colors being brown and gray in the dim light but the artist managed to be pinpoints of color. They each had spirited personalities. They all had something to share or to prove in this area that feed on the dreams of it youth. As Dizzee approached the bench he held his breath. These were his compatriots in the ongoing creative struggle. Yet, with them I still feel alone, Dizzee thinks.

The Writer’s Bench was buzzing with conversation. Kids were discussing the importance of color and how certain textures effect its shine. The older artists were talking about the legal crack down on those that carry the Krylon cans. Each voice was full of emotion. Dizzee learned so much here. It’s here that we create our own purpose, he thinks.

“Aye, Rumi. What’s up man? I thought you had gone ghost,” said Crash, standing to exchange a hand shake with Dizzee. Crash was a cool white guy with a great style. And were there was Crash, his friend Daze wasn’t far way. To many artists they were known as the Chill 2. Unlike Dizzee, they didn’t spray all city, instead choose to focus on claiming the Bronx and Manhattan as main their street galleries. Dizzee loved that they were a harmonizing team of bright paints, bubble letters and wild style.

“Nah man, just working on some new ideas,” answered Dizzee, swinging his bag over his shoulder and sitting down. The wood of The Writer’s Bench was engraved with the names of its most regular visitors, curse words and boughs. Dizzee ran his fingers over the chiseled grooves, imagining the tools that made them. Pens. Knifes. Razor Blades. Pencils. Your weapon of choice reflects a bit of who you were, Dizzee thought.

“Mind sharing what you’re planning? We saw that last burner you put out. Pure greatness,” Daze said. Daze pushed his glasses up his nose. His brown skin appeared dewy in the heat of the subway station.

Dizzee took in their excited expressions, trying to decide if he should tell them the truth or a beautiful lie.  

anonymous asked:

What would the RFA do if MC suddenly started describing EVERYTHING they did the last time they had sex? For example MC would suddenly describe the sex she had last night

this seems rly funny to me for some reason like imagine all of them just quickly covering your mouth and being like haha what??

-he kinda likes it if you two are alone
-but if you’re in public he freaks out bc no one knows and now everyone knows!!!

-kinky ass motherfucker he just sits back and smirks
-but if its w someone he doesn’t now then mc u need to keep ur mouth s h u t

-i feel like he gets into a different kind of mood and mindset when doin it
-when u remind him what he did he’ll get all fucking embarrased and cover his face and its super cute

-wife is v v embarrassed bc its unprofessional
-secretly loves that u remember so much

-he’s so full of himself and probably be like
-“wait u left this part out” and would start describing it as well

BLUSH - Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader ( x Uncle Tony Stark) This is a series !! Part 2 will follow shortly :) Feedback appreciated !

Y/N Stark, was Tony Stark’s niece. Her parents’ sudden death had led to Tony taking her under his wing, and looking after her ever since.

Y/N grew up to be as brilliant as her uncle, exceling in academics, and getting into research after college.

Tony visited Y/N every week, and took her out to dinner. He never broke this tradition, and that particular day, he was waiting for her in at the restaurant where she had promised to meet him.

About fifteen minutes late, Tony saw her rushing into the restaurant, looking almost too shabby for his liking. She sat opposite to him breathlessly.

“Im so sorry, Tony !” She said, gulping down some water. “Got caught up with work”

Tony nodded, still having a look of disapproval on his face.

“What ?” Y/N asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Look at yourself, Y/N ! You are a Stark ! You cant run around looking so shabby !” Tony said, shaking his head.

“I came straight from the lab, Tony” Y/N said with a smile. “Besides, you know how much I hate dressing up”

“Ok, dont then. But still you need to look presentable” Tony argued. “ What are they making you do there ?”

Y/N shrugged.

“I havent slept in days. Working on this -”

She was cut off by Tony, who gave a bright smile.

“Well, Im here with a solution to that” He said.

“What solution ?” Y/N asked.

The solution landed her at the Avengers tower, working for Dr. Bruce Banner. It was something huge for her to work with him, and Tony was glad to have her close to him.

The rest of the Avengers were excited to meet another Stark, and not to mention a girl.

Natasha and Wanda helped Y/N settle in, whereas the men were always there to help.

* * *

“Its so UNFAIR that he gave her a room right in front of his” Sam complained, making Bucky smirk. They were on their early morning workout with Steve.

Tony had given her the right opposite Bucky’s, because that room happened to be bigger than any of the other spare ones.

“Sorry dude, I had no part in it” Bucky said, shrugging.

“Lets better keep it that way” Sam said, dropping to the floor if the gym, panting.

“Lets not try anything funny with her guys. Tony wont take it lightly” Stevd said, making his way out of the gym, followed by the other two.

* * *

Y/N woke up to hearing voices outside her room. She looked at her alarm clock, and saw that it was only 6am.

Grumbling to herself, she dragged herself out of her bed. She opened her door, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Guys ! Keep it down !” She said, yawning. “Tryin’ to sleep here”

Bucky, Steve and Sam turned around to look at Y/N, who leaned against the door, and gave them a sleepy look.

“Can you guys talk somewhere else please?” She said, almost in a whine.

Bucky couldnt help but smile. She looked so beautiful and delicate in her pyjamas and messy hair. It was as if something clicked. He felt some strange new energy sparking up inside him.

And he also noticed his friends who were ogling at her, just like him.

“Hey, come on, lets go” He said, grabbing Steve and Sam by their arms and pulling them towards the elevator.

He turned around to catch one last glance of her.

“Thanks, Bucky ” She mumbled, before closing the door, and returning to sleep.

* * *

By 8:00am, Y/N was in the kitchen, looking for breakfast. Steve, Bucky and Sam looked up from their food as she came in.

“Good morning, Y/N !” Sam said.

“Good morning, Sam” Y/N said, with a smile.

“Sorry about this morning” He added.

Y/N laughed and her eyes met Bucky’s. She blushed, as he gave her a smile. His eyes lingered on her face a minute too long, that Steve cleared his throat.

Bucky snapped out of his thought, and offered Y/N one of his sandwiches.

“Thanks, Bucky” Y/N said. “ Lot of work today !”

“Is Bruce overworking you ?” Sam asked.

“Yes, he is such a workaholic !” Y/N said. She glanced at the clock.

“Shit !” she said, “Im late ! ”

Y/N stuffed the sandwich into her mouth and ran off towards the elevator.

“I like her” Sam said. “Sweet thing”
Bucky gave him an icy glare, and Steve burst out laughing.

                             * * *

Natasha has created a chatroom.
Natasha has invited Wanda, Steve, Bucky, Clint, Nikki, Tony and Sam.

Sam: Party !!
Y/N: Im still working.
Nat: Boohoo
Steve: Whats the plan?
Nat: How about that new nightclub we saw the other day ?
Y/N: Cool! Never been to one before!
Sam: Aww, we’ll take you, Y/N
Y/N: Thanks Sam :)
Bucky: Well.
Steve: Well well.

Bruce has joined chat.
Bruce: Y/N, dont you have work to do?
Y/N: Yes, Mr Banner :(
Bruce: Why the sad face ?
Nat: Leave the girl alone Bruce !
Bruce: Natasha !!

Tony has joined chat.
Tony: No nightclub for you Y/N
Bucky: o_o
Tony: Go away Barnes !!
Bucky: Nope.
Wanda: You go away, Tony !
Y/N: Unfair !
Tony: Not at all
Bruce: Tony, she has work !
Tony: She can stay back and work.
Y/N: I want to resign.
Wanda: Stop banning Y/N from doing things ! Shes old enough to make decisions for herself !
Y/N: Yes !
Bucky: Yes !
Tony: No.
Clint: Somebody please throw Tinman out !
Tony: I just might throw you out, Birdie!
Bruce: She is sulking now, Tony. Stop it. Y/N,if you put your phone down and finish your work, you can go.
Y/N: Thank you, Mr. Banner !
Tony: Not so fast ! Who gave you the permission to give her permission, Banner?

Bruce left the chat.

Tony: Great.
Nat: Bad Tony !
Tony: Oh come on ! FINE ! Y/N can go !
Y/N: Yay ! Thanks Tonyyy !! You’re the best!
Steve: Seriously.
Bucky: : D :D
Tony: No drinking, though.
Y/N: Bye Tonyyy !!!
Nat: Come to my room after work,Y/N!
Y/N: Ok, Nat.
Y/N: Bye guys !

                            * * *

Bucky was on his way to his his room, when he saw Y/N coming out of hers. Her long hair was wet and was dripping slightly. Bucky stood staring at her.

“Hi Bucky ” She said, smiling.

“Hi” He said, scratching the back of his neck. “Umm…nice hair”

Y/N smiled, tilting her head slightly.

“Thank you” she said, a small blush spreading on her cheeks.

Bucky blushed at the way she looked at him.

“I gotta go meet Natasha” Y/N said.

“Ok” Bucky said, nodding. “See you at the club”

“Yeah” Y/N said, her heart beating fast.

Bucky watched her walk away, and turned to walk straight into Steve.

Steve had a grin plastered to his face.

“What ?” Bucky asked.

“What what ?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows. “I know it”

“Steve” Bucky said shaking his head.

“Shes a good girl, Buck” Steve said. “Shes perfect for you”

The two friends grinned at eachother.

Originally posted by gliceria

TAGS ! @mags-moore , @kaiyaisbae , @sgt-jbb-107
Damage Control

A/N: Hi, so I’ve decided since I won’t be continuing the story I’m allowing and encouraging everyone else to do it. So this will be one 1/3 of the writing prompts I’ve written in long word counts, feel free to write your own interpretation and please do tag me so I can check them out! :-) x

Pairing: Y/N/Gang!5SOS

Rating: NC-17 (Trigger: Strong language, violence, read on risk) 

Request: No

Words: 2.600+

Summary:  ‘I don’t have any damage control, especially not when it comes to girls like you!' 

Keep reading

The Fox Part II: The Last Dawn

Written by Praemonitus_Praemunitus

Back To Chapter 6

Chapter 7

He spurs his horse along at a controlled, hurried gallop, keeping a firm hold on the wobbly dark-clad figure sitting in the saddle in front of him.  The masked avenger himself.  Zorro.  Steve.  

The man who saved his life during their very first encounter and proceeded to commandeer virtually every aspect of it.  

The man who became his closest friend, his anchor, his savior in more ways than one.  

The man he came so dangerously close to losing twice in a matter of days.  

The man he’s currently taking to his ultimate death.

He grits his teeth in powerless fury, fighting the urge to yank on the reins, to turn the horse around and gallop at full speed in the opposite direction as far away from the cuartel as possible.  Because it wouldn’t do either of them any good.  Six of the lancers he brought with him to help rescue Steve were now riding in a tight formation around them – an unequivocal action meant to ensure they didn’t stray from their path.   And Danny has no illusions about the lengths these lancers might go to should he attempt to escape – two thousand pesos is a hell of a lot of incentive, after all.  

But even if Danny could risk breaking away from his determinedly grim-faced escort, he can’t afford to do it.  Steve can’t afford for him to do it.  Because Steve needs a doctor.  Urgently.  And the only one Danny trusts to be anywhere near Steve now is Max.  Who is at the cuartel at the moment. Waiting there with Grace, just as Danny had asked him to.  And Danny wants to howl at the twisted irony of it all.

Keep reading

comebackwhen  asked:

For the short fic thing, how about Strifesodos for 1. soulmate AU? <3

Sorry this took so long ;^^

Genesis was not one who often craved a hard drink. Sometimes he treated himself to a little glass of red wine every now and then, but never the whole bottle. 

Today he could drink a big bottle of Mideelan whiskey and it probably wouldn’t help. His hands still shook a little bit and he felt positively miserable. 

How could he just walk away like that? It wasn’t at all like what he heard it was supposed to be like. 

He heard the knock and rubbed at his temple. 

“I’m not in the mood Angeal,” Genesis said. 

“Wrong person,” Sephiroth’s deep baritone replied. Genesis didn’t turn towards him, but didn’t stop him from entering his office. 

“I came to see how the Icicle mission went,” Sephiroth said. Genesis would have laughed if he wasn’t so miserable. Having a soul mate was having an affect on Sephiroth after all. 

“It was fine,” Genesis said, “despite being freezing.” 

“Then…something else is the problem,” Sephiroth said. Genesis fought not to be sarcastic. Sephiroth was making an effort to be kind. He didn’t know what to say for a long time. 

“He…he walked away,” Genesis said at last. It was all he could think about right now. All he could think to say. 

“I don’t understand,” Sephiroth replied. 

He…walked away,” Genesis said. 

“He…oh…ohhh” Genesis realized Sephiroth understood and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he felt confused when he heard tapping on a PHS. 

“What are you-”

“I am texting Zack,” Sephiroth said. 

“What? No!” Genesis said. 

“He’s…better at this than I am.” Genesis just sighed and decided to wait. 

“Seph!” Zack gasped as he skidded to a halt, “what’s up.” Sephiroth spoke softly and succinctly, explaining the situation. Genesis didn’t really feel up to talking without snarling at this point. 

How could he just walk away? How dare he!

“Oh,” Zack said, “ooooh.” Genesis rolled his eyes. Yes, let’s pity poor Genesis because his soul mate literally bumped into him and walked away

“So…” Zack started, “Who’s the lucky guy?” Genesis huffed, but couldn’t really stay mad forever. 

“He’s a trooper,” Genesis sighed, “I…I didn’t see much. He was getting off the elevator and bumped into me. He…he almost lost his helmet.” 

“Genesis,” Zack started. 

“He has blue eyes, blonde hair, caucasian-”

“Genesis!” Zack nearly yelled. Genesis blinked irritably. 

“I know you’ve been out of town…but the troopers have been working overtime to cleanup a building collapse,” Zack explained, “Most of them are asleep on their feet. You could have thrown a brick at him and he might not have noticed.” Genesis blinked. He had a lot of emotions running through him at once. He finally registered one and hung onto it. 

Precious dear is exhausted. 

“I need to find the trooper profiles,” Genesis said storming out without a thank you. Besides…he didn’t really want to see Sephiroth and Zack smooching again. 


Cloud jerked up and hit his head on the top bunk. He groaned and rubbed it gently and he got to his feet. It was more dangerous not to obey a commanding officer. 

In his blurry vision he saw someone in a red coat standing next to CO Oeuver. He stood at attention and waited for what they wanted. 

“Only blonde on the floor Commander Rhapsodos,” Oeuver said. Cloud was really too tired to care about the conversation. 

“Cloud Strife?” a silkier voice said, “I do believe you’re the one I’ve been looking for.” Cloud registered that this particular man smelled very nice…and had an irrisitable warmth around him. 

He leaned forward and strong arms caught him before he fell. He could almost hear his CO admonishing him, but that silky voice shushed him. Good. 

“He’s just fine,” it said, “I suggest taking him off the duty roster for the rest of the week. He will be coming with me.” Yes! Cloud squeezed the chest he had his arms wrapped around in approval. He liked the laugh he got in return. 

Cloud was tired, but he knew this was good. 

Sephiroth checked back with Genesis when he got word he was back in his office. 

Genesis was lounging on his office sofa, reading out loud ever so quietly. A blonde head of hair was poking out of a blanket tossed over both of them. It took Sephiroth a moment to realize Genesis was letting someone lie down on top of him. 

“My report will be late,” Genesis said, glancing over at Sephiroth. 

“I expected so,” Sephiroth said. He smirked as a hand slid out of the blanket and pinched Genesis’s cheek. 

“Keep reading,” the blonde grumbled.

“Of course precious,” Genesis said and continued to read as that hand petted Genesis’s face in apology. 

“Get used to that,” Sephiroth said as he walked away. Genesis smiled. 

  • *the garden, Mummy & Daddy's*
  • Molly: *examining the buffet table*
  • Sherrinford: *slides up beside her; puts on a mocking voice* What are you thinking, the pork or the pasta?
  • Molly: *looks up; smiles* Oh, hey. Your mum keeps asking me when we're getting married!
  • Sherrinford: Mmm, she was a mathematician. Knows what adds up.
  • Molly: *chuckles* Very funny. Anyway, I told her it's not like that. Now she's trying to fix me up with Sherrinford.
  • Sherrinford: *smirks*
  • Molly: *eyes wide* You...are Sherrinford, aren't you?
  • Sherrinford: *extends his hand* Guilty as charged, Molly Hooper.
  • Molly: *blushing* Oh God. Sorry, hi. You look like- I mean, Sherlock never mentioned he had a twin brother
  • Sherrinford: Hmm, it doesn't really come under his favourite subject *pauses* himself.
  • Molly: *giggles*
  • Sherrinford: *grins* Or you.
  • Molly: *confused* Huh?
  • Sherlock: *hurries over to them, almost spilling his drinks; almost nervous* What are you talking about?
  • Sherrinford: *winks at Molly* Ears burning...
  • Molly: *giggles*
  • Sherlock: *annoyed* Sherrinford!
  • Sherrinford: *rolls his eyes* If you must know, I was about to tell Molly Hooper - pathologist, brainy, single, cat lady, sexy as hell *turns to Molly* sorry, I'm paraphrasing but that's the jist *back to Sherlock; slowly* that you fancy her *smug*
  • Sherlock: ...
  • Molly: ...
  • Sherrinford: For me? *nicks one of Sherlock's drinks* bonsoir, brother dear *leaves*
  • Sherlock: ...
  • Sherlock: *clears his throat* I-I don't fancy you. It's a...deep affetion *stares into his remaining glass* I love you.
  • Molly: *holds his free hand, smiling* I love you too.
  • Sherlock: *smiles*
BTS reaction - to you (their crush) suddenly jumping into them while watching a horror movie

Jin: He would simply be surprised. If you squealed in horror when the ghost on the screen popped up, he would let his natural caring instincts come out and help you look away from the screen when another jump scare were to pop up. If you were starting to get extremely scared to the point where you were almost on the brink of crying, he would suggest watching a different movie

Namjoon: Would be smug af. If you jumped into his arms, he would feel like he is the “big shots” and would enjoy the feeling of being able to protect you. He would pull you closer to him and gently pat your head while saying something like “its ok.. Oppa is here to protect you *smug ass smirk*” and would keep you there for the duration of the rest of the movie

Yoongi: He would laugh at you, like how he laughs at Hoseok when he’s scared. The reason of his laughing wouldn’t be because he thought that you being scared was funny, it was solemnly because he thought that how scared you were, and how you hung onto him like a little girl, was extremely cute. He ,however, wouldn’t exactly know what to do, so he would end up chuckling a little without saying anything, but unconsciously bringing you closer and closer to his chest while the movie progressed

Originally posted by jungkooksarms

Hoseok: Honestly,he would be doing the same thing lol. We all know how scared Hobi is of anything “horror” related ‘or anything in general really lol’, so you two would be scared together. I can honestly see him being a really good friend to watch scary movies with, if you yourself were scared of horror. Sometimes having someone that experiences the same feelings as you, is even more assuring that having someone that can stand up to the horror. Every time a jump scare you come up, you guys would be screaming together. If you were to jump into his arms, he would jump in as well, causing you two to hang on to each other the whole duration of the movie

Jimin: Another one to be extremely smug about your actions. Jimin would like the sense of being an “Oppa”, and would love that he was in the position to protect you. If you started burying your face into his chest out of the overwhelming sense of horror that you couldn’t take anymore, he would carefully wrap his arms around you and place his chin on the top of your head and softly whisper “sh…shh… the monster will never be able to get to you,,, at least while I’m here protecting you…*get’s shy from his own words* *Jungkook cringing in the background*

Originally posted by btsfunboyz

Taehyung: He would be the type to try and make you forget about how scared you are. After he would see how terrified you are, he would joke about it and in his mind, he is secretly thinking about all the things he could do to make you feel better. He would do things like going up to the tv and making a fake sword and pretend to fight the ghost, or just something simple like tickling you until you burst into laughter. After he would get you feeling better, he would look at you lovingly, relieved that you’re finally not too scared

Jungkook: This really depends on how comfortable you are around each other. In the context that you’re extremely comfortable… He would gently giggle while looking down at you, completely hanging onto him like he was the last thread of hope you had to live. He would find this extremely adorable, but would still want to hide his feelings toward you, so would end up covering up his feeling by teasing you and saying something like "It’s just a movie y/n..*awkward scoff*”. What he wouldn’t be able to ignore was the irresistible urge to keep you tight in his arms while he protected you, and kept you safe from the rest of the universe (and this movie). He would try to fight it back, but would ,unknowingly to him, tighten his grip around you while you were literally squishing your head into his shoulder out of horror. He would only notice that he would be doing this if you said something like “Jungkook.. you’re hurting me”, and would finally notice exactly how tight his grip was on you, and  would awkwardly take his arms off you with a blushing face

Originally posted by comfyjimin

// OmG This is literally cuteness overload <3<3 GIF ARE NOT MINE ALL CREDITS GO TO THE OWNER. just needed to say that lol… hoped you liked it ^^ //

Vows: A Short Story of the Legend of Korra

Maturity Level: PG

Time:  Approximately 3 years after “The Last Stand”

Note from the writer: Sorry about any errors my proofreading skills aren’t terrific.

Asami’s eyes were locked on the mirror.  To be more precise they were locked on the women in the white dress in the mirror.  A part of her brain still wasn’t able to comprehend the fact that it was her standing there.  She began to idly smooth out wrinkles in her dress that weren’t actually there.

Keep reading

gaelicfolktales-deactivated2014  asked:

The young girl pokes her head through the man's office, " Hans? " { lets keep their friendship uwu its so funny in modern au }

Hans looked up, his pipe was between his lips, a light cloud of smoke above him. A smirk broke out across his face as he stood and removed his pipe from his lips.

“Hm well Mollie,” He remarked lightly. “It’s good to see you.”

So i finally got around to watching it! I really liked it actually so thanks for the suggestion!

All the hosts would squish together on a sofa with the laptop infront of them to watch what tamaki had recently found, raving about how great he thought it was.

Tamaki: Would keep talking through the whole thing about how this “was his favourite bit” and “oh he loves this bit its really funny” and “oh mori that character is definitely you!”

Kyoya: He’d think tamaki found some useless nonsense again, but would actually find some parts humorous, especially the more cynical parts.

Hikaru & Kaoru: Would be cuddled up together, laughing constantly at the silly little film and shouting at random parts as to which host it seemed like.

Mori: Would sit silently, intrigued by the short film, smirking at parts - afterwards he would talk about it more with honey, and they would both end up showing it to the entire dojo.

Honey: Would be sat giggling at all the weird parts, and talking about how you shouldn’t try to kill someone but if you wanted to kill him just don’t let him have any sweets! (but please don’t do that because that would be awful)