he's almost gone


RIP Agent Antoine Triplett (April 20, 1982 - December 9, 2014)

i. when you fall in love with an angel, you must understand that there are things you will not understand. 

ii. when you first go to run your hands through his hair, his halo will slice your palm. and it will hurt. he will mend it with the touch of one golden finger, and will leave so abruptly that he is gone almost before you blink. the last thing you see will be him standing in the doorway, a terrified expression on his face and blood in his hair.
(later, he tells you that he didn’t realize how breakable humans could be. when he explains what it takes to make an angel bleed, you start to understand.) 

iii. ask him about the sky, about stars and suns and galaxies light years away, about how the universe looks like a blooming garden. 
do not ask about lucifer, because your angel will become a soldier before your eyes. 
do not, do not, do not ask about god.
do not ask about rebellious older brothers and absentee fathers, do not infer about a war you know nothing of. 

iv. in a science class you are taking simply to get the credit, your teacher will be talking about quantum physics. she will call planets “celestial bodies” and suddenly you will only be able to think of the way his mouth curls in at the sides, of all the puckered scars that criss-cross his torso, of the graceful arch on the bottom of his foot. when the teacher calls on you and asks you if you are alright, you will flush an even deeper red. 

(at times it is lovely to be in love with an angel. but other times, it is not.) 

v. when you fight, it is like the world is ending. his anger conjures a thunderstorm, and soon the entire state is three inches deep in water. you shatter a picture frame. a bolt of lightening catches the house across the street on fire. you are screaming at the top of your lungs—something about duty, something about god—and there is a crash of thunder that shakes the house. the weathermen talk about the storm for days, and you change the channel. 

vi. then there are the times when he doesn’t visit for months on end, and when he finally comes back to you, he is not himself. there are new scars across his chest, and he does not speak. he sits with you in his arms for hours, his nose buried in your hair and his arms squeezed tight, so tight.
he does not cry. you do not cry. 

you do not cry. 

vii. when you fall in love with an angel—oh, sweetheart. it’s too late to take it back now.

—  on falling in love with an angel || m.m.c
i guess i’ll have to learn to be delicate (with your heart)

Fluff Friday: November 18 “Big & Little”

Not particularly shippy. Featuring: Sakura and Kakashi, with guest appearances by Naruto, Sai, Yamato, Tsunade and Shizune. Would nod vaguely at canon if they were to pass in the street.

This is de-aged fic. Neither Sakura nor chibi!Kakashi are particularly thrilled, but Naruto thinks it’s hilarious.

Sakura’s just coming up on the end of a long, long hospital shift when she hears the commotion in the lobby. She pauses, letting her attention stray from the medical chart she’s updating to trying to decipher the noise two floors down, but the distance muffles everything to only the dull rise and flow of voices. She cocks her head, listening to no avail.

“Haruno-sensei?” the chūnin perched on the bed dares prompt.

She frowns and shakes her head, turning back to her patient. If she’s needed, Shizune will send one of the nurses to fetch her. Until then, she has work to finish.

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I swear to the gods, Grover, I would tear the entire world apart if it would bring her back to me.”
“I know Percy. I know
—  If Annabeth had been the one to disappear

Did anyone else notice this?


Dear old dad, remember this too, in this whole wide world there’s no one like you   

Call Me

Group: GOT7

Member: Mark

Word Count: 556

Genre: Fluff

You’re sick, but not wanting to add to Mark’s stress levels, you hide it from him when you’re on the phone. He gets suspicious and comes home early anyway.

You stifled a cough and cleared your throat before replying into the phone, “Oh, not much, just missing you as usual.” You and Mark had been dating for nearly 2 years now, but with his busy schedule, he was gone almost all day, every day, either on tour or at practice. Thankfully, he was on a short break, but he and the rest of his members decided they should still practice the newest choreos. 

“Are you okay? You sound kinda sick… Want me to come home early from practice?” he said suddenly, sounding worried. 

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Boiling Over: He Tian x Redhead


The street was busy with commuters making their way back from work. Redhead walked at a brisk pace a little ahead of He Tian, his arms heavy with grocery bags. He knew the way to the dark-haired boy’s apartment by heart; 

he’d gone there almost every week to cook.
He didn’t know why he kept coming to this guy’s house. At first, He Tian used threats of violence to drag him to the apartment, but by now he made it clear that it was his choice. Why he had chosen to come of his own volition was beyond him.

Redhead was jerked from thought when an arm snaked around his waist and pulled him back, pressing him into the body of the dark-haired boy. He had only a moment to process what happened before a car flew by, just inches from his face.

“Watch where you’re going,” said He Tian, his arm still wrapped around his waist.  They stood there for a moment, bodies locked, before the light turned green and people poured past them down the crosswalk.

Redhead pushed his arm away. “I’m fine.” Truth be told, he didn’t feel fine. His heart was racing. But he wasn’t going to let He Tian know that.

He Tian studied him for a second and then let go. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

They walked up the stairwell to his apartment and He Tian pulled out a set of silver keys. With a twist of the wrist the deadbolt opened and the boys walked inside the apartment, welcoming the cool air-conditioning. Redhead put the bags on the counter, while He Tian threw his keys in a bowl and headed for the shower.

When he heard the sound of running water, Redhead put a big pot on the stove and turned it to medium heat. He got out the steaks; prime cuts of meat he would never be able to afford on his own, and cubed them. After salting and spicing them, he slid the cubes into the water.

He started to chop the tomatoes when an uneasy feeling prompted him to look up. He Tian was sitting on the counter, watching him. He was shirtless, his still wet hair clinging to his skin. Water dripped from his head and snaked its way down his body before disappearing down his jeans. A smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. Redhead wondered how long he’d been sitting here.

“Can I help?” 

Redhead thought he was joking. He Tian had never offered to help him before. He looked over, expecting a sneer of some sort but He Tian looked dead serious.

“Sure,” said Redhead, passing him the cutting board. He watched as He Tian demolished a tomato, turning it to pulp. Jugging by the frown on his face, that was not what he intended to do.

“You have to cut down and across at an angle, not just hack at it.”

He Tian tried again but the result was the same. Pulp everywhere. They were running out of tomatoes.

“Here, just give me it,” said Redhead, pulling the cutting board towards him.

“No,” He Tian grabbed it. Redhead braced himself for a display of sarcasm, maybe some shitty remark, but instead He Tian said “Teach me,” and moved around to his side of the counter.

Teach him? How the hell was he supposed to do that?
“First of all, your grip on the knife is all wrong.”

“Like this?” Asked He Tian.

“No, we’re cutting tomatoes not slashing throats. Loosen your wrist.”

He Tian moved his hand around, but he was sill gripping it like he was getting ready for a street brawl instead of making soup. Redhead was getting frustrated.

“No, like this,” he said, putting his hand on He Tian’s. The unexpected touch surprised both of them, but Redhead ignored the shiver that was going up his spine and got behind He Tian.

“Now, with your other hand,” he said, griping He Tian’s wrist, “You hold the tomato. Lightly, so you don’t bruise it.”

He Tian nodded in agreement, letting Redhead adjust his hands. It was hard to see around him and Rehead found himself pressing closer to his bare back to see over his shoulder. He Tian didn’t seem to mind.

After He Tian managed to cut a few slices on his own, Redhead loosened his grip. Only when he finally let go did he notice he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

After everything was in the pot, Redhead put the heat on shimmer and closed it with a lid. He wiped his brow and looked at He Tian, who pulled a couple beers out of the fridge and walked across the living room to plop down on the couch. Redhead milled around the kitchen, unsure what to do, until He Tian offered him a beer and an invitation to sit down.

Redhead hesitated. Normally he stayed in the kitchen to watch the food. This is the first time He Tian had asked him if he wanted to sit with him.

Fuck it. Redhead set the timer on his phone on the counter and walked over. He graciously accepted the cold bottle and flopped down next to He Tian. His nerves were on edge from sitting next to the guy, but a couple of gulps of the burning liquid calmed them.

“What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t really care. Whatever’s on.”

He Tian flipped through the channels until he stopped at some generic action movie. Redhead had already seen it but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he twisted open another beer and sunk into the couch.

It was hard to pay attention to the movie when the dark-haired boy was sitting just inches away from him. Shirtless. He could feel the heat rolling off him. As he studied his broad muscular shoulders Redhead realized why he’d lost every fight so far: the dude was ripped.

Despite his muscular physique, when Redhead held He Tian’s wrists they were small and delicate, almost like a woman’s. Thinking of holding those wrists made other unwarranted thoughts jump into his mind.

He stood up sharply and started to walk to the kitchen, but He Tian snatched his wrist.

“Where are you going?” He demanded.

Redhead looked at him. “To check on the stew.”

“Oh,” said He Tian, his expression faltering. Redhead wondered how much he’d had to drink.

He didn’t let go.

They stared at each other for a moment, and once again shivers raced down Redheads spine. He Tian flicked Redhead’s wrist up and brought it to his face, kissing the center of his palm. Redhead felt his breath speed up, and bit his lip to stop a moan that was trying to escape. 

They froze. The television droned on in the background but Redhead tuned it out. He was entirely focused on He Tian. 

He outstretched his arm and braced it on the back of the couch. Tentatively he leaned forward and brushed his lips against He Tian’s. Nothing happened.
Was this a joke? Had he misread the situation? A thousand and one thoughts ran through Redhead’s mind. 

A thousand and one thoughts that were replaced by pure bliss as He Tian’s lips collided with his, sending jolts of electricity through his body. The dark-haired boy pulled him back onto the couch and let go of his wrist, cradling his face in both hands. He pushed his tongue down his throat, and Redhead grabbed a fistful of hair. His body was on fire.

He Tian grabbed Redhead’s free hand and pressed it to his chest. He could feel the dark-haired boy’s heart beating a million miles an hour, his body arching toward him. The kissed got harder, more urgent, and He Tian nibbled on Redhead’s lip.

When He Tian finally pulled back Redhead thought he was going to die. Why was he stopping? It felt so good.

They were facing each other. He Tian’s breath came out in raggedy gasps. He studied Redhead’s eyes, his body slick with moisture. Redhead looked back with confusion.

“Is this okay?” Asked He Tian, his eyes searching. 

Is this okay? What the hell was wrong with that guy! He hadn’t asked if anything was “okay” these past couple months, dragging Redhead on stupid missions and making him cook. Why the fuck was he doing it now?

“It’s amazing,” Redhead gasped. Okay, not what he intended to blurt out, but it did the job. He Tian’s mouth curled into a pleased smile and he resumed kissing. His hands found their way to the buttons of Redhead’s shirt and he undid them, one by one. 

He kissed the corner of Redhead’s mouth and made his way down his neck. Redhead threw his head back and let out a low moan. Another hand snaked its way down his chest and to his abdomen. Redhead felt warmth flood his body.
Placing his hand on the small of his back, He Tian maneuvered Redhead under him. He braced himself with one arm on the couch and let the other wander down Redhead’s arched back, lower until he was gripping his ass.

Their hips grinded against each other and Redhead stifled another moan. Fuck. He was hard.

He still had one hand on He Tian’s chest, but the other went to explore his stomach. He moved it farther down until it slid into He Tian’s jeans. He Tian let out a whimper and slid his tongue across Redhead’s chest, breathing hard.

Suddenly the timer on Redhead’s phone went off. They tried to ignore it but it was set on max volume, the annoying blaring sound echoing throughout the apartment. Redhead glanced over at the stew bubbling of the pan.

“Fuck,” he said, pushing himself up on his elbows. They looked at each other. Whatever had been happening seconds ago was ruined. Redhead couldn’t mask the disappointment on his face.

Redhead gave He Tian an apologetic look. He slid out from under him and walked across the living room to the kitchen. When the alarm stopped blaring He Tian lit a cigarette and went over to the window. It was already dark outside.

He took another drag and let out a raggedy breath. What had just happened? He didn’t want for it stop but that idiot virgin decided to set that stupid alarm. He wondered how far he would have gone if that hadn’t happened.

After one last drag he snuffed it out and walked to the table Redhead had set. Next time, he would find out.

(part 1)

Returning Home - Closed RP

It was mid-morning. A quiet day - sleepy and undisturbed. The Hooded Figures went about their business, and black, unmarked vans rolled slowly down the street.

A lone figure walked down the sidewalk, steps slow and almost cautious. He had been gone almost decade, and to be back in Night Vale felt… surreal.

Toby continued to walk, taking in the once familiar sights. Despite the years that had past, he still remembered where to go, and soon he found himself stepping up to the Vansten manor.

Instinctively reaching out,  young man hesitated just shy of the door, apprehension filling him to the core. What if they didn’t remember? What if they didn’t love him anymore? He couldn’t take that… not now…

But… he couldn’t turn away.

Toby took a deep breath, steadied himself, and knocked.



Request: “we have the same coffee order and you keep stealing mine even tho I ordered first can yOU NOT Pietro x Reader ”

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Words: 628

Warning: None, honestly this time.

A/N: Sorry it took me a long time to write this out. I have been so busy, especially with the holidays.

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For markisepticmoo  I hope this is what you wanted!! 

Rain pelted his face and the wind whipped against his skin as he pushed through the storm to get back home to Mark.  He had gone out almost an hour ago to buy food for the two of them, but as he was about to leave the shop, a storm rolled in, and Jack wanted to wait until the temperament calmed a bit before leaving.  

Obviously, that never happened.  

So Jack was stuck running through the streets of LA in the pouring rain and trying to protect the food he had just bought with his jacket.

He was running low on breath and his lungs were aching when he finally spun around a corner and sprinted to his and Mark’s door.

He fumbled for a moment to get his keys out but eventually got the damn door open and slammed it shut behind him.  As he propped himself back against the door, he could hear the storm kick up even harsher outside and he shuddered in horror.

The house was quiet save for the white noise the TV created and Jack had to assume the loud ball of energy that was his boyfriend was either asleep or reading.

He was wet, tired, cold, and in desperate need of a bath, but that could all wait until he found Mark.  

Jack flinched as the sound of the distant thunder rolled through their home.  It was going to be a bitch of a storm, and Jack wanted nothing more than to crawl into the safety of Mark’s lap and watch a movie to distract himself.

He dropped the bag on the counter and, following the only noise in the house, Jack plodded toward the living room in search of his boyfriend.  Mark was unceremoniously sprawled across the couch with a book lying open across his chest and some weird cartoon playing on the TV in front of him. Jack could hear gentle snores emanating from the man, and it was so adorable that he didn’t have the heart to wake him up.  

Jack could handle a few minutes on his own in the middle of a storm, he was a big boy now.  

He would just take a bath and try to relax his aching muscles, he was really out of shape and he needed to go back to the gym because that last few minutes of sprinting home was giving his lungs hell.

Looking forward to the comfort of the water, Jack headed upstairs to the bathroom.

Mark woke to the sound of running water upstairs and the harsh splashing of rain against the walls of his home.

Assuming Jack to be in the process of taking a shower,  Mark sat up to rub at his still tired eyes, letting the book he was clutching thump to the floor.  Mark was going to be pissed with himself later when he had to look for the page.

He stood from the couch and stretched his arms above his head.  He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he was just so comfortable and what had been the soft patter of rain at the time lulled him to sleep.

After his spine was rightly aligned again, he padded into the kitchen to see what food Jack had picked for them that night.  Mark wasn’t exactly the best chef, but Jack was pretty decent and made meals for the two of them almost every night.  It was incredibly domestic and lovable and one of Mark’s favorite parts of his day.

Just as he reached for the bag on the counter, there was a clicking noise and every light in the neighborhood flickered out.

Mark heard a loud curse from upstairs and called out to Jack, “Stay still, love!  I’ll bring you a few candles!”

Mark didn’t really own that many candles (a grand total in three) but he lit them all and dutifully brought them upstairs to Jack.  

He pushed the door open with his foot and placed one candle on the bathroom sink, one on top of the toilet seat, and one on the edge of the bathtub.    They bathed the whole room in soft, flickering light and though they could hear the destruction of the storm outside, the atmosphere around them was pretty peaceful.

As Mark got a good look at Jack, his heart melted all over his chest and a small smile graced his face.

His knees were drawn up and he had bubbles forming up to his collarbones and Mark felt a spark of arousal at the sight of an adorable, completely naked, and wet Irishman in his bath.

Jack smiled and winked at Mark, probably knowing the places his mind was going, but instead of making a smartass comment about it, he sat up and held out a hand.

“Would you like to join me?  Water’s warm.”

Mark swallowed hard and stripped out of his clothes embarrassingly fast, nearly knocking one of the candles over and burning the house to the ground.  Jack simply giggled adorably and murmured a soft “careful” to him.

Mark hummed happily, finally sliding into the bath behind Jack and Jack relaxed back into Mark’s chest, enjoying the moment.

It’s a simple moment, but a memory that they would keep with them for a lifetime.  The light dancing on the walls, the smell of vanilla wafting through the air, and the rain pounding outside all contributed to a moment of quiet peace.

Mark picked up the soap that sat innocently on the rim of the tub and began to run his fingers behind Jack’s ears and across his neck.  He then flattened his palm against his partner’s skin and began to rub soothing circles into his chest and shoulders.

Jack’s head lolled back onto Mark’s shoulder and he shuddered at bit at the warm touch.

As Mark’s hands were traveling into dangerous territory, a boom of thunder rattled the still and silent house and Jack’s body jerked back into Mark’s.  Not that Mark was really complaining or anything, but the movement was too rough and sporadic for it to have anything o do with what his hands were doing and he would not accept this distraction.

“Jack?”  Mark’s voice was deep and rumbling and he used it to mumble sensually into his boyfriend’s ear, “are you afraid of storms?”

Jack let out a shrill squeak and snapped out a  loud “NO!”

Another crashing boom interrupted him and he wiggled closer into Mark.


Mark chuckled against the skin of Jack’s neck and wrapped his arms around his chest, pulling him back to relax against Mark again while Mark rested his back against the tub.  "I’ll protect you, you nerd.“


Originally posted by street-crush

Rated: Mature

You cuddled up in bed with your favorite book and a glass of wine. Early that night you finished watching the live broadcast of the Show Me The Money finale and you were so proud of all of them. Not only because Basick took home the win, but because that meant Jin tae should be coming home tomorrow. He was gone for almost two whole months because of filming. Tonight was just one of many where you found yourself reading one of your dirty little novels, while drinking his favorite wine, and wearing one of his sweaters.

Hearing the bedroom door open your eyes shot up, only to be met with the all too familiar gaze of Jin tae. He smiled at you, dropping his bags by the door, and slipping his jacket off. How was it possible for you to be anymore beautiful than he was when he left? You blushed heavily sitting up, your shirt falling off your shoulder just slightly.

“Oppa you’re hom-” his lips were on yours in an instant. Teeth clashing in his desperate kiss attempt to keep you as close as possible. Your fingers slipped into his hair as he laid you back down onto the mattress.

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You always said that the only ‘ism’ was “Barcelonism”. You always presumed you were a “normal” guy, but in the end, you were not - for a “normal” man does not hold such an everlasting memory, or touch as many people as you did.“ - Jordi Roura

“This town’s more gloomy than the last time I was home. Did I miss something?”

I have one student who comes from a pretty crappy background (like family-wise), and when I first met him, he only colored artwork using red. But over the course of the last month, he’s opened up so much, and ever since I showed him how you can make different colors by mixing primary colors, he’s started using different colors in his work. And my job sucks sometimes, and the pay is horrible. But I would continue working there for a million years if it meant this one kid has a good life because he deserves it so much, and he’s worked so hard for it.