he was halfway there anyway


“Your tiddies are MY tiddies!”

@the-memoirs-of-a asked for my Eruris at the Mardi Gras…I have literally NO idea about the Mardi Gras because around here we have Fasching/Fasenacht/Karneval which has very different traditions but we talked about this so I think this might be about right ;)

Anyway, Levi is a bit possessive about his princess and even though Dorkwin didnt see too much of the parade he had a very pleasant holiday. HUEHUEHUE.

Black and White - Chapter 2

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Bad Boy AU // University AU // Fluff

Word Count: 3227 words

Plot: Baekhyun is the typical heartthrob that always gets what he wants.. until you came along.

Black and White: Mini Masterlist

“Okay, i’ll just say this here. You’re really cute. How about we take this upstairs?” Baekhyun queried.

You felt your heart drop slightly.

This. This was exactly what you wanted to avoid. What you didn’t want to happen.

You were flattered by his words, of course. But you knew they were merely nothing but empty words. Ones that held no meaning whatsoever.

Keep reading


Great Summer with the people from Circus of Karneval 

Someday Your Child May Cry

Previous: Question | Preparations | Irrational | Confession | Collateral | Thoughtless | Interrupted | Recovering | Irresponsible | Possibility | Devastation | Confrontation | Generous | Confirmation | Understanding | Sight | Insatiable | Agreement | Family | Threatened | Terrified | Helpless | Mourning | Evasion

25. Gratitude

“This was a mistake.”

Scully sighs and just barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes yet again. Next to her, in the passenger seat of her car, Mulder fidgets nervously as she pulls into her mother’s driveway.

“Which part?” she asks him. “The part involving my brother or the part involving your mother?”

“The part where we agreed to come at all,” says Mulder.

“It’s going to be fine, Mulder,” she tells him, for what seems like the sixth or seventh time. “Bill already knows everything and he’s fine with it. He’ll either behave himself or my mother and Tara will make him behave.”

“And my mother?”

“What are you so worried about, Mulder?” Scully demands. “You told me she was all right with the baby. You told me she was happy.”

“That’s what she said,” Mulder replies. “But she’s had time to think about it in the past five months.”

“I’m sure she hasn’t changed her mind,” Scully reassures him as she puts the car in park and turns off the engine. Several seconds tick by, but Mulder makes no move to get out. “Mulder,” she says, quietly, “It’s going to be okay. And even if it’s not, we can always leave early.” She reaches over and takes his hand. “And no matter what happens tonight, no matter what gets said or who says it, nothing changes this.” She pulls Mulder’s hand across the console and settles it on the now-unmistakable bulge of her belly. Mulder takes a deep breath, as though steeling himself.

“Okay,” he says, finally. “Let’s go.”

Maggie must have seen them pull up, because she opens the front door before they reach it, her smile as warm as the cozy living room behind her. 

“We were beginning to wonder,” she says as they approach. She hugs Scully first, beaming broadly, and then hugs Mulder, kissing his cheek and making him blush. “Fox, I’m so glad you’re here,” she says. “Your mother and I were just talking about how exciting it is, with Dana getting so close.” Across the living room, Teena Mulder is sitting stiffly on the sofa, and she stands and crosses to her son.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Fox,” she says, kissing him perfunctorily on the cheek before turning to Scully. “Miss Scully-”

“Dana, please,” says Scully, as Teena kisses her cheek, as well, then looks her up and down, a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, and much to Scully’s shock, there’s an air of genuine concern in her voice. 

“Just about ready for this part to be over,” she says, and it’s absolutely true. Since getting pregnant, she’s been through their fights about Diana right after El Rico, the stress of the cases they’d taken immediately after, and the terror of Mulder’s predicament less than two months ago, not to mention his subsequent recovery. Scully feels as though by the time things had calmed down, she’d entered the most uncomfortable portion of her pregnancy without having had any time to really enjoy (or even focus on) being pregnant. Teena smiles sympathetically.

“I remember how it was with both of mine,” she commiserates. “By the eighth month I was so exhausted that all I wanted was to sleep through the rest of it.”

“Not a bad idea, when you consider what’s coming next,” Maggie chimes in. Before she can continue, though, there’s a squeal from the kitchen doorway, and the next thing Scully knows, she’s engulfed by her sister in law’s extremely enthusiastic embrace. Tara’s hands go immediately to Scully’s belly (as she’d guessed they would; Tara never seemed the type who would understand that not all pregnant women like being touched), and she squeals again as the baby kicks.

“Dana, you look amazing!” Tara says, and without giving Scully a chance to speak, she hugs her yet again. “I couldn’t believe it when your mom told us. Bill and I are so happy for you guys!” She looks over her shoulder, back to the kitchen doorway, where Bill Scully, holding Matthew in his arms, is awkwardly waiting for his sister to notice him.

“Hey, little sister,” he says. His wife shoots him a pointed look, and he smiles sheepishly. “Congratulations.”


Dinner, to Mulder’s intense relief, is not the exercise in torture, guilt, and humiliation that he had been dreading. Whether Tara and Maggie have had some stern words with Bill ahead of time, or Teena’s presence is making him wary of displaying any overt hostility or he’s genuinely happy for his sister, Bill is calmer, kinder, and more accepting than Mulder has ever seen him. He’s not exactly friendly to Mulder, but he’s perfectly civil. 

“So Mom wouldn’t tell us if you’re having a boy or a girl, Dana,” he says, as they’re digging into their dessert. “Are we allowed to know, or is it a secret?”

“I guess it’s more or less a secret,” says Scully with a shrug. “Since we don’t know, either.” Bill raises his eyebrows.

“Didn’t you have a twenty-week ultrasound?” he asks, and glances at Mulder. “You’re not one of those new-agers who thinks they’re harmful, are you?” Scully sighs.

“No, Bill, we’re not. We’ve had the ultrasound, and everything was perfectly normal… we just decided, at the last second, that we’d rather be surprised.”

“Though I still have my money on it being a girl,” Mulder interjects.

“I still maintain that shopping for gifts would be an awful lot easier if we knew what color we should be shopping for,” says Maggie.

“I agree,” says Teena, and they share an understanding nod.

“So you shop after the baby’s born, or keep the receipts,” says Mulder, helping himself to a second slice of pie.

“And there are plenty of things that you need for a new baby that are gender neutral,” says Tara supportively, and Scully gives her a grateful smile.

When dessert is finished, Tara chases Maggie away from the table. “No, Mom, you did the cooking,” she insists. “And Mrs. Mulder, you’re a guest… and you, Dana, don’t even think about it. Go sit down and relax, all of you. We’ll clear the table and do the dishes.”

“Yeah, Scully, go take a load off,” says Mulder, giving her a good-natured shrug towards the living room. “We’ve got this.” From his high chair at the end of the table, Matthew rubs chubby fists into his eyes, smearing the remnants of his dinner across his face, and lets out a lethargic cry.

“Actually, do you think the two of you can handle the clean-up?” Tara asks Mulder and Bill, as she unbuckles Matthew from his high chair. “This little guy’s exhausted. I think I should get him cleaned up and ready for bed.” Bill glances at Mulder.

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “Go ahead, we’ll manage.”

Bill and Mulder have the dishes cleared and scraped in short order, and in the kitchen, Mulder begins to wash them, and Bill takes up a position as his left, drying them and putting them away, since he knows where everything goes. They’re silent for the first few minutes, but it’s not all together uncomfortable.

“So you really didn’t want to know what you’re having?” Bill asks, when they’re nearly halfway done. 

“I like surprises,” he says. “Good ones, anyway. And Scully didn’t want to know, and I was pretty sure I’d end up accidentally spilling the beans if I knew and she didn’t.”

“Or she’d beat it out of you,” says Bill, and Mulder chuckles, nodding.

“Or that,” he agrees. He hands Bill the serving platter that had held the turkey, and Bill carefully dries it. “You know,” Mulder ventures, against his better judgement, “you’re not taking this… that is, I thought that you’d-”

“You expected me to tear you limb from limb the moment you walked in the door,” says Bill gruffly.

“Something close to that, yeah,” says Mulder.

“I gotta admit, if this had happened a year ago, I might have,” Bill admits. “But after last year… after Christmas, after everything that happened with that little girl… Dana’s daughter….”

“Emily,” says Mulder heavily. Bill nods.

“After seeing my sister like that, and thinking it was the only chance she’d ever have to be a mother….” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t begrudge her this. It’s not how I would have chosen for her to have a child, but….” He takes the washed gravy boat from Mulder and dries it, then stretches to an upper cabinet to put it away. “It’s her choice. She asked you, you said yes, and I’m happy that it’s working out.”

With the dishes finished, Bill goes upstairs to check on Tara’s progress with Matthew, and Mulder decides to join the others in the living room. He stops in the doorway, his leftover wine from dinner in his hand, and watches the three of them for a moment, smiling softly.

He’d never have imagined this scene, not in this lifetime: Scully, heavily pregnant with his child, sitting with both her mother and his, listening to them sharing advice and stories of their experiences with their own children. Three resilient women, three mothers who have lost daughters, sharing wisdom and comfort as new and old parents have for generations.

Scully looks up after a moment. Seeing him, she smiles and pats the sofa next to her. Smiling back at her, and feeling more content than he can ever remember being, Mulder goes to take his place by her side.

so the oscars happened and now I have a Derek Nurse headcanon

Nursey is a film lover, he loves everything about films and therefore watches the oscars even when mostly all of the winners are white people. After last year’s whitewashed oscars he was hesitant and not actually looking forward to this year’s ceremony. But then he saw that many POC were nominated this year, that powerful movies actually had a chance. So he binge watches all of them and falls in love with Fences and Hidden Figures and Moonlight and Lion and Silent Night.

He watches the ceremony cuddling with his boyfriend even though he falls asleep halfway through after complaining about the show being too long. Anyways Nursey uses Dex as his own pillow and gets comfortable for the rest of the night. When Moonlight ends up wining best picture he screams loud enough to wake Dex up before covering his mouth with his hands. He has tears in his eyes and the biggest smile on his face when he kisses his boyfriend and reassures him he’s okay and tells him that history had been made, that beautiful stories are finally getting recognition and that he’s so so happy he could burst.

Dex asks him to tell him everything in the morning over coffee and Nursey agrees with a smile before cuddling once more and falling asleep knowing that it may have been a small pebble that had been set but I was going to be the start of something even bigger.




hi hey hello sorry im Never Here

I accidentally turned my boyfriend into a fashion critic

So, my boyfriend and I are pretty avid Netflix bingers, constantly finding new series to watch etc. I’m home more often than him, since I’m a student, and naturally I’m not allowed to watch more episodes of shows without him. That would be Netflix Cheating. Many bad. Awful girlfriend I would be. 

So I was in search of something on Netflix that he wouldn’t be interested in that I could watch and binge at my own leisure during the day when he isn’t home. So one afternoon, when I had a two hour break between classes and came home to have lunch, I discovered that a couple seasons of Project Runway had been added to Netflix. I’d never actually seen it, and frankly it’s right up my ally. The other plus being that my boyfriend hates reality tv of any kind with a passion. I knew even just the sound of a reality fashion show would put him right off, so great choice. I can binge all I want, no guilt of him wanting to watch any. 

A day or two later I mention to him that I’d been watching it. He judged me, as I expected. But said he could tolerate it in the background while he read etc. Anyway, here I am, about halfway through a season and every now and then he’s expressing his opinions on the show. “Oh that’s a nice dress” he says, or “eh, I don’t think I like that”. The next thing I know, “Oh this is not that bad at all for a reality show, it’s really all about the clothes, no bullshit!” and he’s sitting on the couch watching it with me. The next day he even got offended that I’d watched a couple episodes without him. 

Then he got really into who was going to go to fashion week, he’s telling his mate what a good show it is, not letting me start the next season without him and even says to me one night, when we only one episode to go and I kept falling asleep, that I should go to bed and he’ll keep watching and I can just catch up tomorrow when he’s at work. Um, what? 

We finished both seasons that were on Netflix in like two weeks. He was, naturally outraged when Mondo didn’t win season 8 (I was too). He then spent the next couple of days reading trivia and info about the show and watching interviews with the cast. He decided Tim Gunn was the greatest human being ever (which is true), looked up the winning designers to see if they actually had any success, knew the ages of all the judges (why?), and discovered why Michael Kors left the show. He even said to me while doing the dishes last night: “I looked up Seth Aaron’s line from when he won the all-stars series. Not as good as I expected…And I mean, his clothes are great, but what has he really done since?” 

All I wanted was a show to watch by myself and instead I managed to turn my reality-tv hating boyfriend into a Project Runway trivia buff and low-key fashion critic.  

anonymous asked:

28. MSR. I'm feeling fluff but not opposed to smut. Maybe a birthday/Christmas/one of them is sick?

This prompt is really, really old. The prompt was  “You did this for me?”. I picked birthday and one of them is sick. 

Tagging @fictober and @today-in-fic

It’s 9.16 am and Mulder is not yet at the office. Despite the fact that Mulder has a habit of ditching her, or following any lead right away without another though, he tends to be at work on time. If not early. How often has she strolled in and Mulder was already in the midst of something important? 

Today, Scully made sure she’d be there before him. To prepare her surprise for his birthday. She examines her work now from all angles. Small, colorful candles flicker their light at her and in between them sits a slice of carrot cake. With extra frosting and, instead of a candy carrot on top, a small alien head. In gray, of course. A few weeks ago on a stakeout, Mulder told her that he didn’t like celebrating his birthday. Too much fuss, he explained spewing out sunflower seeds like an alien-hunting James Dean character. The only thing he liked, still indulged in even now, he admitted to her, was a slice of carrot cake. That’s when Scully knew what she’d do for his birthday. 

And now he’s late. She picks up the phone and dials his cell phone number. Three dial tones later and Mulder himself steps into the office.


"There you are,” she hangs up the phone and gets up to greet him; he stands there like a question mark, his eyes searching hers in the dim, intimate light, “happy birthday!” Scully exclaims and engulfs him in her arms. If she didn’t know better she’d think he’d forgotten his own birthday. He groans into her hair when she squeezes his sides but hugs her back.

“You did this for me?" His voice tangles in her hair and Scully smiles against his chest. 

"I did. I know you said you don’t like your birthday, but everyone deserves to feel a little special every once in a while.”

“Thank you, Scully. Thank you.” His arms tighten around her and Scully wishes they could stay like this for the rest of the day. She gently pushes at him. There are tears swimming in his eyes but he smiles at her. 

“Come on, blow out your candles.” He makes his way over to his desk, his steps deliberate and slow. Something is wrong, Scully thinks, but is distracted when Mulder stares at the plate in front of him. He chuckles, shakes his head in disbelief. Her Mulder, for once unable to belief in something. His head comes up so he can look at her. He doesn’t say a word, purses his lips and starts blowing out the candles. Scully only got him a dozen; who wants to be reminded of their age anyway? Mulder is halfway through when he sits down in his chair. 

“Mulder, are you all right?" Scully turns on the desk lamp, the bright light breaking the atmosphere. 

"I’m just old.” Mulder jokes. Now in the light, Scully sees Mulder’s pale complexion. Strands of hair are plastered to his forehead.

“Mulder, look at me.” Scully orders and he does. Dilated pupils, she notes. She leans over and touches his cheek. They feel warm, feverish. 

“I haven’t been feeling well. My stomach feels funny.” He touches his side and Scully swallows hard. She puts two and two together, takes his hand and helps him up.

“We’re going to the hospital right now. I think you have appendicitis." 

"Happy birthday to me.” He mumbles as he lets himself be led away.

They confirm Scully’s diagnosis in the ER. Mulder is admitted and prepped for surgery right away, the inflammation too far gone to wait any longer. The fact that he doesn’t complain once tells Scully that he’s in more pain than he’s letting on.

“Are you going to operate?” He asks her, his voice slightly slurred. 

“No, I’m not. These people here know what they’re doing.” That’s her hope anyway. Scully knows this is a routine operation. Mulder will be fine. They’ll release him in a few days, he’ll take it easy - she’ll make sure of that - and soon, he’ll have forgotten it ever happened.

“Then why are you crushing my hand?” As if it were on fire, Scully lets go of his hand. It falls away him like a wet rag.

“I’m sorry, Mulder. I’m just… you scared me, you know? You should have told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“I forgot when I saw you,” her eyebrows shoot up, “and what you did for my birthday. I only wish I could have tried the carrot cake. See what that alien tastes like.” They both chuckle. 

“I promise I’ll get you a new one once they’ll let you eat solid food again.” Mulder groans just as three nurses walk in. Time to go.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Mulder.” Scully squeezes his hand and finds herself unwilling to let go. Mulder’s panic face makes an appearance and she puts her other hand on his cheek. “It’ll be fine. It’s a routine operation. And you know you have something to look forward to: your carrot cake.” He squeezes her hand as his eyelids droop. Another moment and he’ll be gone. Scully listens to the familiar click and clack of the hospital bed as they start wheeling Mulder out. She’s still holding his hand knowing she’ll have to let go any second now.

“Scully… I… love you.” Her hand lets go, they take him away, and she stands there. Did he just say what she thinks he just said?

Two hours later, Scully is informed that there were no complications. Mulder is in his room, still out of it, and she is allowed to be with him. A nurse brings her a blanket, apologizes that the plastic chairs are so uncomfortable. Scully keeps drifting off, her hand holding Mulder’s like a lifeline. When it twitches, finally, she sits up straight, waits for his eyes to open.

“Hey, Mulder." 

"Hi. Am I dead?”

“No, you’re not. How are you feeling?”

“Hmmm, tired.”

“It’s the anesthetic. It’ll take a while before it wears off. Any pain?”

“No. Feel… pretty good. Best birthday ever.” His eyes are closed, he’ll be asleep again in no time, but at least he’s smiling. As she stares at his peaceful face, she wants to ask him. Ask him if he really said I love you earlier. Scully knows it’s no use and yet she leans forward to whisper to him. 

“Do you remember anything from before, Mulder? Before the operation?" 

"Hmm. You… carrot cake… I love… love… love carrot cake.” Scully, amused, shakes her head. Of course. Carrot cake. He loves carrot cake. That’s all. Scully takes his hand back in hers and leans back in her chair. Maybe she’ll ask him again later. Maybe.


introduction | rocky | eunwoo | moon bin | mj | jinjin

TW: a lot of mentions of blood & also kidnapping

  • Blood ritualist
    • Nobody knows for sure what happens in MJ’s ritual room because he’s claimed the top floor of their three-floor coven house
    • They just know not to go in the room to the right of the stairs if there’s a red ribbon on the door handle until MJ tumbles out of the room, exhausted and usually coated in a light layer of blood 
    • If you press your ear to the door handle you can hear vague chanting and sometimes a little humming if MJ’s taking a break
      • One time Sanha tried snooping and sat outside the door watching the crack at the bottom of the door for movement
      • he heard MJ’s chanting fade into silence and there was a flash of bright light
      • and then there was a knock on the wall somewhere behind him
      • Sanha doesn’t even dare go up MJ’s stairs now poor baby
    • Gets results like 777% of the time because he’s really good at what he does, bless his heart

Keep reading

Seek, and You Shall Find: Chapter 7

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3  Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6

Her skin was smooth, the finest of foreign silk. A scent–her scent– attacked his nostrils, fine and musky. Earthy, but undoubtedly feminine. Her thin fingers caressed his back, steadily tracing the scars that marred the skin. Long legs were hooked loosely around his own, small feet rubbing gently against his calves.

She assaulted his senses. She was the air around him, surrounding him with her touch, her taste. He couldn’t escape, didn’t want to.

“Claire…” He moaned into her ear, lips brushing the soft shell.

She rolled her hips against his in response– an entirely new sensation for Jamie. A quiet giggle whispered from her lips, much like the one from earlier that evening. “Yes, love?”

Love? Surely, he must be dreaming. Only in dreams did wishes come true so thoroughly.

“I… I want ye, Claire.”

Her legs rose, and hooked around his thighs. She pushed her hips again until their centers were flush. They groaned in unison. “I’m here, Jamie. Have me.”

“I… I don't… I think…”

“Don’t think. Just do. Please?” Her heels dug into his arse, urging…

So he did, pressing into her slowly… slowly… until all he could feel was warm slickness. He crushed himself to her, the hardness of her nipples poking into his chest.

He began to move without thought, a motion as old as time itself.

“Jamie… Jamie, please…” Her voice rasped, the shallow breaths interrupting her words. “Oh, God…”

She seemed to glow, as if lit from within by a candle. The world around them darkened; she was the only light.

“Oh… Oh…”

“Claire, I canna…”


Jamie woke, surrounded by hay and shit, cock in hand. Of course it was just a dream…


Jamie kept watch of Claire from afar. Perhaps it was the embarrassment after his dream that caused him to keep his distance. For weeks, he could not speak to her, could not look her in the eye without flashes of pale legs and full breasts filling his vision.

She didn’t seem to notice, though. She kept herself busy, surrounding her in the greenery that was the Leoch gardens. He saw her mind work as she contemplated each plant, each herb. Her lips moved quickly, whispering secrets to herself.

Sometimes she was joined by Geillis Duncan, wife of the local fiscal. Most times, though, she was alone. In those times, he felt compelled to join her, reach out to her. But her never did. His excuses came readily: he did not want to interrupt her, he was embarrassed by his dream.

Deep within his mind, a subconscious part, though, he knew the truth. He felt strongly about this woman, an emotion pulsed through him that he had never felt before.

He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t know it fully himself. But it frightened him.


The stream bubbled softly, lulling Jamie into a gentle daze. Thoughts escaped him– dreaming without falling asleep.

This was his place, a place he came to be alone. It was far enough from the castle grounds that others didn’t stumble upon it. It was truly nothing special, just a clearing beside a brook. But Jamie held it in high regard; he told his secrets to this earth.

“Jamie.” He started at his name. He knew that voice, but he turned anyway. Claire stood amongst the trees, halfway hidden between two trunks. A faerie, she seemed to be, comfortable and glowing in the nature surrounding her.

“Mistress Beauchamp, hello. How did ye find me out here?”

She walked over to him as she spoke. “Well, I saw you, and I called your name. But I suppose you didn’t hear me. So, I followed the red hair.” She motioned to the mop in question.

“Oh, aye? Did ye need anything, then? Please, sit.” Jamie moved over, giving her enough room to perch on the rock beside him.

“Actually, yes. I wanted to speak with you.”

“What is it, Mistress?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of fact.

“Avoiding ye? No, no, that’s no…”

She continues as if he hadn’t spoke. “I was just curious as to why. I mean… I hope I haven’t offended you in any way.”

“No, Sassenach, ye haven’t.”

“Is it your… umm… your lady? Did you not want her to get the wrong… idea about us? I would hate to get in the way of two people in love.”

He had no idea what she was speaking of. Love? “Wait. I’m sorry, Claire. My lady?”

“Oh… umm… yes. The pretty girl with the yellow hair?”

“You mean Laoghaire?”

“I suppose. I saw the two of you in the alcove by the kitchens.”

Jamie would have been grateful to disappear. He could feel his cheeks burn red. She saw that? “Oh… ummmm… no, no. That's… that isn’t my lady. That didn't… that wasn't… anything.”

He couldn’t look Claire in the eye. “So, you just kiss girls without meaning it?”

“N-no! It’s just… she kissed me! And then… I just… I didn't…”

“You didn’t stop her?”

God, what did she think of him now? A man with no morals? A man that takes advantage of women? He chanced a peek at her. A glint sparkled in her eyes, one side of her mouth turned up.

She was teasing him. Oh, Jesus.

“Yer mocking me.”

She didn’t deny it. “A bit,” she said through a chuckle.

“Verra funny.”

He felt a sharp elbow in his ribs. “Oh, come on. Just a bit of teasing. I was serious about you avoiding me, though.”

He couldn’t tell her the truth. “It’s just been… a hectic couple of weeks, is all. I’m sorry.”

“No, no! You’re fine! I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t upset you in anyway.”

“No,” he reassured with a smile. “Ye hadn’t.”

She grinned back before turning back to the stream. They both watched the water in silence. What was she thinking?

He watched her from the corner of his eyes. She sat as a statue, except for her hands. He watched her fingers twirl the gold band on her left hand, a hypnotizing steady rhythm.

“Ye miss him, don’t ye?”

“Hmm?” She followed his line of sight. “Oh, yes. Very much.”

“I’ll listen, if ye want to talk of him. I ken it helps sometimes.”

She turned, staring straight at him. A deep sadness clouded her face, her eyes a sunset disappearing into a starless night.

“His name was Frank…”

anonymous asked:

Dan vs the inflatable thing that cant stop hugging phil

This is so great lmao

ty ty ty x

Keep reading

I think Yuuri knows how to play the piano!

“Hm? Is that a piano?”

Yuuri looks up from where he’s sorting out his laundry, a sock in one hand and a shirt in another. He puts the sock to one side and begins folding the shirt, Victor’s shirt that he keeps forgetting to give back. “Oh, that? I got that keyboard a long time ago—before I went to Detroit, even.”

Victor tilts his head from where he sits on the bed, feet stretched out before him. Blinks and looks at Yuuri. “Do you still play?”


“Play for me?”

Smiling, Yuuri sets aside one of Victor’s scarves and stands. “Any requests?”

“Your song,” the Russian says decisively after a heartbeat of thinking. “Yuri on Ice.”

“Hmm. I never learned it,” Japan’s top figure skater admits. He shakes his head and pulls out the keyboard from where it sits propped against his closet. “But I can try.”

“You can do that?” Victor asks. The words, You’re that good at playing? go unsaid.

Yuuri shrugs, plugs the keyboard into the wall and turns the machine on. “Sure,” he answers, fingers running over scales like water pouring from a fountain. The sound is crisp and clear, and Victor finds himself pleasantly surprised. He wonders why.

“I’ve skated to this song so many times it’s practically engraved in my head,” the brunet continues, moving into arpeggios and rhythmic exercises. The keyboard moves slightly as Yuuri presses into the keys, the device pushing into the yielding mattress. “Just give me a second to warm up.”

As Yuuri’s fingers drift over the keys, Victor swings his feet back and forth. “How did you start playing?”

Yuuri’s fingers don’t stop, unheeding of or perhaps disregarding the conversation. Yuuri turns to look at the older man and hums. “I saw a video of someone playing the piano and decided to learn.”

“Did you take lessons?”

“For a time, yes.”

“How old were you when you started?”

Yuuri huffs a laugh from his nose and tests out various chords. “Is this an interrogation now?”

“Well, I never knew you could play. Is it so wrong to want to learn more about your boyfriend?”

“Mm.” Yuuri pauses, looking down at his hands. “I started when I was relatively young. Six, I think?”

“That is young.”

“Well, I stopped being so serious about it when I began taking ballet lessons. And then skating took up most of my time after that.”

“But you still play?”

“I still play.”

Yuuri begins then, starting with the sixteenth note triplets, and Victor closes his mouth and just listens. It’s lovely—reminds him of when he first listened to it, half asleep and with Yuuri excitedly leaning over his lap. Reminds him of his former student, of his lover before they became lovers.

“You’re very good at this.”

Closing his eyes and letting himself visualize the music inside his head, Yuuri leans back and feels his lips quirk into a half-smile. “I’m not the type to let a skill atrophy without practice.”

“That’s not you, no,” Victor agrees.

And they both listen, then, to the music pouring out of the cheap keyboard roused from its sleep. He times his breathing to the swelling of the melody, to the rise and fall of the notes, to the cadence of the moment. Victor leans against Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri leans back, the two of them content to relive their memories through the passage of sound.

It’s a peaceful moment filled with peaceful feelings. Victor tells himself to ask Yuuri to play more music for him from now on.

BTS Reaction To: Their S/O Is Afraid of Lightning and/or Thunder

seokjin: Seokjin looked like a five-year-old child with a candy bar as he skipped into the bedroom, carrying a pizza box. You sighed. It was literally three in the morning.

When you hesitantly nudged Seokjin out of his self-proclaimed beauty sleep to ask for protection from the storm outside, he wordlessly pulled out his phone and dialed his emergency contact number. It was a pizza place.

“When you’re sad, eat,” Seokjin declared, bringing the slice to his mouth for another bite. He spoke with food in his mouth, despite knowing well that this was one of your pet peeves. “When you’re mad, eat. When you’re happy, eat. When you’re scared, eat. When you’re—”

“Okay, I get it,” you interrupted him, bringing your hand to his mouth to cover his obnoxious chewing. You swear, he only did this to annoy you. “But aren’t you supposed to be protecting me or something, like any normal boyfriend would do?”

Seokjin looked at you as if you had just insulted his entire family.

“When have you ever complained about me buying food for you, especially in the middle of the night?”

You tilt your head at his words, nodding while bringing the pizza slice to your mouth.

“You right,” you admit, your mouth filled with food.

Originally posted by seokjinsdiary

Why do all my reactions with him relate to food oml

yoongi: The chances of humans being struck by lightning? Sources say one in a million.

The chances of your beloved dog being struck by lightning? Probably much, much rarer.

Unfortunately, your childhood pet was one these documented cases. Being far too young to have proper judgement, you left your dog outside on a stormy day. You rushed outside after hearing a particularly loud and suspiciously close clap of lightning to find your dog lying on the grass, his heartbeat slowing to a standstill.

So, whenever it thunder and lightning came down particularly hard, especially in the middle of the night, you would at times find yourself sobbing, wondering what might’ve happened if you had taken those few extra seconds to let your dog into the house all those years ago.

The powerful thunder, bright ass lightning, and your worsening sobs was enough to wake Yoongi from his much-needed sleep with a quick jerk, but his tense posture immediately softened once he saw you drowning in tears.

“Y/N?” His voice croaked with fatigue, but his eyes were alert. “Did something happen?”

You shook your head furiously, trying to explain yourself.

“No,” your speech was divided with hiccups, “I promise I’m okay—”

“No, come here.” And with that he’s pulling you down back into the pillows, enclosing the space around you with his body.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, okay?” Yoongi whispered, stroking your hair. “The least I can do is hold you until you fall asleep.”

Originally posted by bangtanbtsmut

hoseok: The last time the clock was on, it read 2:12 am. It had to have been at least an hour past now.

Thankfully, you finally found yourself blinking yourself asleep, but a boom of thunder ruined your plans. This thunderclap wasn’t even louder or intense than the others; the frustration of your current state was what had you yelling and bursting into tears.

Huh?” Hoseok woke up from his deep sleep to find you drowning in tears. “Y/N? Y/N! What happened? Bad dream?

No, it’s just that,” you sniffled between words, which came at a million miles per second, “Bad weather always gives me a-anxiety. I have too many bad memories—”

You choked on your words.

Oh, no. Were you having an anxiety attack?

Y/N, Y/N, just breathe, okay?” Hoseok inhaled and exhaled, urging you to do the same until your shallow heaves turned into deep sighs. He then pulled you down with him under the protection of the bed sheets, snaking his arms around you tightly.

Just close your eyes and rest,” he whispered. “It’s okay if you don’t fall asleep; I just want you to be calm.”

O-Okay,” you agreed, finding your inner state of peace until a flash of lightning had you dropping and losing it again.

Oh, God, w-what was that?” Hoseok unlatches his arms from around you to spring up and look about the room, as if an intruder, and not the thunderstorm, was wreaking havoc on your small apartment. You couldn’t help but laugh at the man beside you, no matter how afraid you were in the current situation.

Maybe Jung Hoseok wasn’t the best person to protect you from the dangers of a thunderstorm.

Originally posted by junghosyub

namjoon: “Thank God my laptop was fully charged before the power went out,” Namjoon sighed, typing in the login information to your shared Netflix account. “Okay, baby, so since the point of this is to get your mind off the weather, what genre do you wanna watch tonight?”

So many options filled up the laptop screen. Most of them, however, were series you had binge-watched during his time away.

“I don’t know if it’d matter,” you answer, nuzzling into his chest. “I might fall asleep halfway in, anyway.”

“That’s okay,” he assured you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “The choice is yours.”

“Chick flick movies.” You said it without missing a beat. Were you sure it didn’t matter if he chose instead?

“God, you’re so predictable,” he mumbled, running his hand through his messy hair.

A pillow to the face was his only reply.

Originally posted by rapnamu

jimin: “Awwwwww!”

The squeal rolled off Jimin’s plump lips; much to your annoyance, Jimin, instead of taking your fear of lightning seriously, thought your phobia was adorable. He pulled you even closer to him, kissing your cheeks.

“Is my jagiya scared of lightning?”

“Yes, but Jimin, please stop—” You weren’t in the mood for his nonsense.

“Don’t you want me to take your mind off your fears?” 

“Well, yes, but—”

His lips moved to yours, cutting your complaints short. The kiss was short and lazy, but it still had the same effect on you, making you forget your worries, well, at least for a few moments.

“Say no more.” Jimin peppered kisses to your jaw, causing you to let out an aggravated groan.


Get your knee out my butt—”

How do you know that’s my knee and not something else?” He whispered in that raspy but undeniable voice of his, moving his hand at your waist underneath your shirt to grab one of your bare breasts. Your breath hitched at the feeling.

You’re disgusting, Jimin—”

Let’s just say that your mind was permanently occupied on things other than the frightening weather within five minutes.

Originally posted by nnochu

taehyung: “Here, put this in,” Taehyung handed you an earbud, as he placed the other one in his ear. “Hopefully, we can hear this over the thunder. You haven’t heard my Spotify playlist yet, have you?”

You shook your head slowly. “I don’t think so…”

“Good, because this shit is fire,” he flashed his square smile, something that you can see even in pure darkness. You laughed at the sight. “Let’s put it on shuffle, then…”

After a few taps of his thumb, the first song began. The music didn’t knock out the rain completely, but Taehyung’s willingness to help you through your fear made you forget about everything troubling you at that moment.

“Whenever this song comes on, I think of you,” he hummed, reaching out to hold your hand.

Looking down at his phone, you saw that Dean’s “Love” (ft. Syd, of course) filled your ears.

You beamed at him.

“Baby, you’re so—”

“I’ll fuck you if you let me, baby…” Dean’s addictive voice interrupted your compliment, making you instead turn and glower at your boyfriend.

“You’re so nasty.”

Originally posted by kpopfordays

jungkook: “J-Jungkook…”

Your trembling hand tugged at his t-shirt, pulling at it until he woke up slowly. Jungkook looked around the room, disoriented, until jumping at the sight of you crying.

“Y/N?” Jungkook reached out tentatively to touch your face with his hand. “Are you in pain?”

“No, no, I’m okay,” you sobbed, grabbing his hand with yours. “The thunder just got to me, I guess? I didn’t wanna wake you up, but I just couldn’t take it anymore…”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Jungkook rose up to sit beside you, crossing his legs. You couldn’t help but instinctively rest your head on his shoulder; he took little to no note of it. “Do you just want to talk it out? I don’t care if we talk until the sun comes up. As long as that makes you feel better about things.”

You smiled weakly at his words. Jungkook was usually unconfident in his abilities to help others out, but he always went the extra mile in his efforts.

“Yeah,” you reached out to grab one of his hands, which he immediately squeezed in return. “That sounds perfect.”

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

Inktober day one!! Prompt: fast.

I feel like watching Ponyo ^^