i like it a bit extraordinary

Makkachin the Extra-Ordinary (and his extra-extraordinary owner)

The Signs as I Know Them

(I could write a book about Aries and Taurus)

Aries: So intelligent, like seriously, and talented. Doesn’t realise how extraordinary they are. Can be grumpy though. Quick leaner, always busy and maybe takes on too much. Wants to chat but doesn’t know what to say. Super gorgeous and surprisingly sexy. (I’m dating an Aries, can you tell? ;) )

Taurus: Gay as fuck. Easily influenced by others, so is more negative around negative people, needs a positive influence. Loves cats. Can be the bestest friend you could ever need if you stick around for them.

Gemini:  A little bit gay. Makes innuendos “accidentally”. Hates drama but is always involved somehow. Music lover! Always sure they’re not in the wrong. Widely liked but breaks bonds easily.

Cancer: Always in a relationship. Totally adorable but neurotic. Completely insecure but shouldn’t be. Cries a lot. Too precious, needs to be protected from this cruel world. 

Leo: Sssssnakes. Not very sociable. Either hates clingy people or is very clingy. Always falling for the wrong people. Level headed unless they’re even the tiniest bit drunk. Real internet people, meme queens.

Virgo: Not very open minded. Makes bad decisions then wonders why they’re sad. Family orientated and kind hearted. “Diet starts next week”. Works hard. Deserves so much better, honestly.

Libra: 50% sweetheart, 50% bitch. A bit psycho to be honest. Better hope they don’t fall for you cos there’s no escaping. Their smile lights up a room. Really good hair.

Scorpio: So talented! Sexually ambiguous. Heart of gold. Not the happiest but some of the strongest people I know. Quite quiet but has the best laugh you’ll ever hear in your life!

Sagittarius: Weird ass hot and cold people, nice one minute and savage the next. Competitive and stubborn. Often seeking security. Dedicated in love.All so attractive, how?!

Capricorn: Annoyingly opinionated. Will go above and beyond to prove you wrong. Has difficulty maintaining relationships (not necessarily romantic relationships). Great music taste. Thinks they cool. 90% of the time they really not cool.

Aquarius: Says “I hate you” to those they love the most. Worships their romantic partner. Total alcoholics. Willing to give anything a try. Hates embarrassment or looking silly. Weirdos but you’re so drawn to them? So confident on the outside, often terrified on the inside.

Pisces: Fast committers in relationships. Secret beauty queens, every single one of them. Pretty chill but don’t piss them off. If they angry they be cold as freaking ice. If they angry, run bitch run.


“James (Mangold) showed me a clip of her audition on camera, and he said, ‘I’d just like to know what you think of this’. And she was playing a scene and it was very, very good, and then, on the clip, she asked the director, could she improvise the scene, and she went into her own version of the scene in a mixture of Spanish and English. And it was one of the most extraordinary bits of audition tape I’d ever seen in my life.”

-Patrick Stewart on Dafne Keen’s audition for “Logan”

“And she came in for the audition, there’s a scene where she punches me in the arm, and I went home and I had bruises all over my arm. No offense to all those guys I’ve fought, but I’ve never gone home with bruises until that day.”

-Hugh Jackman on Dafne Keen’s audition for “Logan”


PT.1 | PT.2 | PT.3| PT.5| PT.6| PT.7| PT.8| PT.9| PT.10| PT.11| PT.12| PT.13

They ate in pleasant silence. The only noise in the flat was the movie, and occasionally Rosie’s whines for some of Sherlock’s food. She found her place back in his lap and decided to join them in their movie-watching. The men laughed at her lip covered in drool from the sight of their food, eventually, Sherlock gave in and let her have some of the rice which he softened for her. Every other bite, John would put his fork down and watch Sherlock. He looked on fondly as the man would sigh and give Rosie more rice, when a particularly exciting scene happened in the movie and Sherlock stopped moving to watch it, he was happy to see Sherlock happy and content. He was excited at the fact that Sherlock was happy and content with him. The lights were off and John couldn’t help but bask in Sherlock’s silhouette from the TV light. How could a man be so beautiful and find someone like him worthy of their time?

“The dragon is starting to grow on me, John…John?” Sherlock turned to face him and John’s cheeks reddened at being caught staring.

“Oh um…yeah, Smaug. He actually reminds me of you.”

Sherlock smirked at John’s reaction and replied, “Oh yes, because I too have a penchant for breathing fire, and, as others so helpfully point out, my voice is quite deep.”

“Well, yeah, that stuff too but I think, for me at least, it’s because you protect things so vehemently. You go through all these lengths to protect things that are important to you, whether it’s a person or thing.”

“If we’re drawing parallels then, just like Smaug, I’m protecting just one thing with my life.”

John’s eyes met Sherlock’s and they both stared at each other smiling, Rosie the only one firmly attentive with the movie. John turned to the television and shoved another forkful of food in his mouth. “Or, you know maybe it’s because you’re just a hotheaded hoarder.”

Sherlock snorted and took another helping of his food. “Maybe, John.”

It was then that John realized that he missed Sherlock so much. The house felt different without him, even when Mary was still alive. There just wasn’t that banter that he was so accustomed to with Sherlock. The thought left him smiling into his food for the rest of the film. John took care of the food as Sherlock put Rosie to bed. She had fallen asleep halfway into the marathon, but the two were so comfortable laying on each other that they didn’t move until after the third movie. John stood in the doorway of his daughter’s room and watched as Sherlock gently set her down in her crib and rubbed her back when she stirred. Thankfully, she stayed asleep and John could let the breath out that he was holding.

“Ready for bed, Mr. Holmes?”

“Just let me change and I’ll join you.”

John perked up at the very real and very exciting prospect of sleeping with Sherlock Holmes. He nodded and walked into the room to prepare the bed. It had been so long since he’s slept with another person in the bed, and the fact that it was Sherlock, his best friend, best man, the…the man he loved, it made the man simply giddy. Was Sherlock just as excited as he was? He hoped so. As soon as John was dressed and ready for bed, Sherlock came in wearing his classic grey t-shirt and striped pants.

“So, this is where I’ll be until further notice?” Sherlock was joking as he walked to his side of the bed and lifted the covers.

“There’s always the sofa, if you want to be picky.” John was just as playful with his response.

They settled in under the covers, and John closed his eyes letting the warmth from his bedmate lull him to sleep. It would have been the fastest he’s ever fallen asleep until he heard Sherlock’s small voice whisper, “John?”

“Yes?” Their voices were made gentle and soft by fatigue.

He could see Sherlock’s form sit and he too propped himself up on his elbows to listen to what the man had to say.

After a long bout of silence, he heard Sherlock say, “You called me great today.”

“I did.” John then thought back to the context in which he said it and then immediately he felt like an ass, maybe they weren’t back to that level of joking yet, he overstepped his boundaries, he fucked up, he fucked up bad… “I’m not great, John.”

“Sherlock I’m sorry…”

“Let me finish.” Sherlock’s voice sounded so painfully raw and John’s instinct was to sit up fully and place a hand on his back. He would listen to whatever it was that Sherlock had to say, they would stay up all night if that made him feel better.

“Yeah, of course, whatever you want.”

“…You called me great today, and I’m not, John. I’ve never been great. No one’s ever referred to me as such, therefore I must not be. But I’ve never truly felt ‘great’ until I met you.”

John’s breath hitched in his throat at that.

“From the day we met you never once failed to call me every variation of the word ‘brilliant’ or ‘extraordinary’. You’ve always made me feel like I belonged, like it was okay to be me, that I am doing good…even when I have trouble believing it some days.”

John bit his cheek to prevent any noise from escaping his body. Sherlock wasn’t finished.

“When I’m with you John, I think I really am ‘The Great Sherlock Holmes’, and it makes me happy. But then I realized…I wouldn’t be great if you weren’t amazing.”

John cupped a hand over his mouth to let Sherlock finish. Even in the darkness of the night he could see Sherlock’s smile, so warm, so bright, so wonderful. God, he was so pretty.

“So, let me say this now. John Watson, I think you’re the most amazing, and bravest man that one could ever hope to meet and how lucky I am to have met you.”

John didn’t respond. How could he? What did he, a worn-down war vet, ever do to make a man like Sherlock Holmes, find him worth his time? As if Sherlock knew what he was thinking, he simply wrapped his arms around John’s small body and pressed a kiss to his forehead when he heard John’s tiny whimper into his shirt.

“You don’t have to say anything right now, I just wanted to tell you that before I scared myself into never telling you, like so many other things I’ve been meaning to say but never have…”

They fell asleep like that, embraced and inhaling the scent of the other. The last thing that John remembered thinking was that he didn’t want Sherlock to leave.


Oh boy, this was 1k words guys! Hopefully you guys were satisfied with this chapter, it was a pleasure to write, and hopefully the next parts will be just as good! 

@sappylock @vitruvianwatson @fortheloveofjawn @watsonsanatomy @the-three-garridebs @justsherlythings7 @bronzedviolets @aconsultinghobbitinthetardis @ink-in-murder @the-john-to-your-sherlock @froggie95 @angel-loving-star @sirarthurcanondoyle @sspectacularlyignorant @jazziejexbird @purplejayee @chulia25 @teeeffdee @deathishauntedbyhumans @im-batt-mellamy @thegameisgay @usuallynotusual @sairyn-noc @gimmeastartoreachfor @toooldforthissh–stuff @willasherlyscottholmes @beekeepers-in-love @jubalya @akablue24 @worthless-dude @random-nexus @imworkingonit86 @buckynotbuchanan @mycroftpotter @funkychickzz @superspringles @theelephantin221b @now–what @maikanna @johnandsherlocks @deathfrisbee-221b @orphengesic-tab @wholockian16 @certaincollectiontravelerlove @enchanted-captainswan @justinmymindpalace @masterofhounds @fallingoffbarts @sherlock-totally-loves-john @missmuffin221 @shayspieterse @loveismyrevolution @loveteaelephants @tealfox-10-24 @vaticancameos-andtea @cow-mow @reallyimpossibleartisan @lets-play-muuurder

Please tell me if I forgot anybody and let me know if you would like to be tagged! Thanks! 

When galaxies collide

AN: I wrote this some time ago and felt like sharing it because it’s not too bad. While reading, please keep in mind that English isn’t my first language, so  excuse any possible mistakes.


The way he looks at me is irritating.

His eyes never seem to leave me. They’re following me through the room, a solid blue wall. Blue as crayons. They’re extraordinarily ordinary.

I try not to let him notice how he unnerves me. I try to ignore him and his stupidly blue eyes. His tawny skin and his unruly curls. Everything about him is golden and so bright that it looks like he belongs in space. Somewhere far away. Definitely not here.


This boy looks like he belongs to another planet. His skin is an indescribable mixture of reds and browns and it shimmers like pixie dust. His hair is dark and way longer than mine and it falls over his shoulders, framing his face, making it look at least a bit softer. Because his cheekbones are sharp and his eyes are hard and he scowls all the time.

He should make me feel uncomfortable. I should be scared by him.

But I’m not.

He seems to be drawing me in. I can’t stop watching him, how he moves around. He talks to no one and no one talks to him. Does he feel alone? It seems like there are galaxies between me and him.


I finally know where he belongs. He’s the sun that is missing in the galaxy I call my life. He completes my very own sun-system. He still hasn’t stopped looking at me.

And when I hear people slowly leaving the room, I decide that I should be brave once in my life.

I turn and look at him. Right into his ridiculously blue eyes.

My breath catches and for a moment, he is all that I can see. He’s the centre of my everything. He’s every nice thing I can think of.

But then he looks away and the moment is broken.


His grey eyes seem to have unsettled something deep inside of me. Something I was afraid do wake, something I never wanted to think about. He’s still holding my gaze and it hurts, looking at his face hurts. It makes me think of how much I want to talk to him, screw his intimidating looks.

So I break the eye-contact.

Then I stand up.

And start to make my way towards him.


Within seconds he’s in front of me, making my stomach turn. I can’t name the look on his face. Is he angry because I stared at him? Shouldn’t I be the one who’s angry?

But then he interrupts my thoughts by saying: “You don’t talk to anyone.”

It surprises me. It’s not even a question, it’s a simple statement. What am I supposed to answer to this? I don’t want to scare him away, he’s even more beautiful up close.

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

Oh great.


He spits out a rude answer, but I can’t really blame him, since my question was probably the least eloquent thing I could have said.

“Well,” I stutter, trying to regain my composure. “I just wanted to ask if I could sit with you.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes and I hope that he’ll say yes.


This boy is going to be the death of me. Now that he’s standing right in front of me, I can see that his face is sprinkled with tiny freckles. There’s an edge of one of his teeth missing, which makes him look way younger. He’s making me feel sick. But the good kind.

He asked if he could sit with me and if I weren’t so absolutely incompatible with human beings, I would have said yes by now. But I still haven’t answered his question and he’s still looking up at me with his blue eyes, chewing on his plump bottom lip.

Before I can think to much about this, I feel my mouth opening.


“If you insist,” he mumbles and for a moment, I’m worried that he’s irritated by me and is just surrendering because he wants me to stop talking. But then he shoots me a half-smile and it feels like gravity has lost its hold on me.

I smile back at him, already planning to tell Penny all of this as soon as I enter our flat. Although he seemed so far away at first, almost like he lived on another planet, I can’t feel the galaxies dividing us any more. Now we’re circling around each other. As if he’s as focused on me as I am on him.

But then he frowns.


He beams at me and I can’t help but try to memorize all of his expression, in case I’m not seeing it again. Or at least, not directed at me.

We’re both silent for a moment, standing in the middle of the empty room and staring at each other. Then I remember that I don’t even know his name.

His face falls when I stop smiling and I immediately want to comfort him, tell him that I didn’t change my mind, that I’m just thinking, but I’m not exactly known to be empathic in public.

“What’s your name?”, I ask, cringing internally at how emotionless my voice sounds.

He relaxes, ruffling his curls as his smile returns.

“Simon. Simon Snow.”

Oh well, at least we both have ridiculous names.


He grins when he hears my name, and I immediately feel self-conscious. My name is one of the things I will never not be embarrassed about.

I have already opened my mouth to say something when he cuts me off.

“Don’t worry, I’m not making fun of you. Would be a bit hypocritical if you consider that my name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. You can call me Baz though.”

I snort, feeling relieved. His name is as extraordinary as he is and even though there’s no way I’m going to remember all of it, I still like it. It sort of fits him.


My stomach does a somersault when Simon says, “We match, I guess.”.

We do not match, we absolutely don’t. But that doesn’t stop me from trying.

*Blizzard* Newt x reader

◘ mare-doe asked: 

The reader and Newt are acquaintances from the Hufflepuff house and Newt starts taking interest in the reader when he sees (him/her) laughing with (his/her) friends at hogsmeade. They meet years later then get stuck in a speakeasy when a blizzard leaves them stranded. ;)

❋ Don’t question why they don’t just apparate out. Just let this happen…. 

Newt wasn’t one to talk much to the other students attending Hogwarts. In fact, he rather preferred to be alone with his nose in a book reading about various magical creatures. His mother being a hippogriff breeder, he found at a very young age his love and admiration for these magical beasts and hoped to someday travel the world in search of them and study them up close.

Of course, because of his rather quiet and lonesome demeanor, other students did pick on him every so often and occasionally compared him to his older brother, Theseus, who was much different than Newt; the complete opposite in fact. He was popular, outgoing and always seemed to have a pretty girl hanging off his arm.

Today was the trip to Hogsmeade and as usual, Newt sat on a bench outside the shops reading a new book he bought and minding his own business. It wasn’t until he glanced up momentarily at the sound of laughter that he laid eyes upon the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

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Kiss me. I say.
And he does. And we’re kissing like crazy. Like our lives depend on it.
His tongue splits into my mouth, gentle but demanding, and it’s nothing like I’ve ever experienced.
I now understand why people describe kissing as melting because every square inch of my body dissolves into his.
My fingers grip his hair, pulling him closer. My veins throb and my heart explodes.
I have never wanted anyone like this before.
He pushes me backward and we’re lying down on the bed making out.
Honestly I wouldn’t care if we were in front children playing on the swings or the old men having their daily meet up on a park bench and I don’t care, I don’t care about any of that.
All I want is Him. The weight of his body on top of mine is extraordinary.
I feel him—all of him—pressed against me, and I inhale his aftershave and that scent that’s just … him.
The scent that just feels like home. The most delicious smell I could ever imagine.
I want to breathe him, lick him, eat him, drink him. His lips taste like honey.
His face has the slightest bit of stubble and it rubs my skin but I don’t care, I don’t care at all.
He feels wonderful. His hands are everywhere, and it doesn’t matter that his mouth is already on top of mine, I want him closer.
—  w.s.
Stay With Me (Part 4)

Summary: Directly after the events of CA:TWS, Bucky meets a girl with extraordinary abilities and together they may have a chance to recover from their troubled pasts.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 2369
Warnings: Mild language (like, really mild, barely worth mentioning type mild)
A/N: Okay so this part is a bit longer than I intended but I couldn’t help myself because I’ve kinda missed this series, I hope you guys like it! Reader’s thoughts are italicized.

one | two | three | four

Originally posted by dallexs


In truth, this was the first time you met Bucky, the man behind the Soldier, but this wasn’t the first time staring into the most intense pair of steel-blue eyes you had ever seen.

Your voice cracked as you let the tears fall to your cheeks, “You still can’t remember me, Bucky?”

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I find it silly that some of you seek consistency in the art style of Steven Universe and correct proportions when they switch animators for specific reasons. Naruto was drawn by like 10s of 20 people. It takes a quite a bit of hands to do some episodes because, timing, scheduling including availability, director’s choice, fairness, experiece building, etc. Many factors indicate the reasoning by the difference character models. However, it still looks aesthetically pleasing and plot matters, we’re just older and it can make us mad. Trust me, I know, I am an artist but I can only get so antsy about people working fucking hard to make something ~extraordinary~ happen.

EDIT: Many of you are artists and have varying opinions on this.

anonymous asked:

I have a Malec prompt for you: Alec returns to the Institute after spending the night at Magnus's. His neck (and deflect rune) is covered in hickies and he can't be bothered to heal them with a rune/is feeling defiant and doesn't want to.

i live for alec not giving any fucks

Alec pretty much figures out what’s wrong the second he steps into the Institute’s front hall. Raj looks over at him from his desk and arches a slow eyebrow, to which Alec scowls as furiously as he knows how. He can feel the heat suffusing through his cheeks as peoples’ eyes track his movements, their gaze falling to his neck where he is pretty sure Magnus has staked his claim. 

“Bro.” Jace says as Alec approaches him and Izzy, regarding him with bemusement. “Are you serious?” 

“No, I’m Alec.” He responds dryly. Izzy snorts and covers her mouth as she looks down at the table, flipping through something on her tablet. 

“You’re not going to maybe…I dunno, cover up your goddamn hickeys?” Jace exclaims. 

“Mm.” Alec hums noncommittally, peering over at Izzy’s tablet and assessing the incoming reports. He’s trying desperately to focus on that, instead of dwelling on how exactly he got those hickeys - 

How he’d been straddling Magnus on the couch, pressing heated kisses along the underside of Magnus’ jaw, open-mouthed and slick, and so very, very filthy in a way he’s only recently figured out how to do; how Magnus had been groaning under him, his hips rolling relentlessly in graceful little circles, teasing Alec with just the right amount of friction, so endlessly good; how Alec had pulled back for just a second to drag his thumb over Magnus’ lower lip, ducking his head and smiling, and Magnus had flipped their positions, his biceps flexing under Alec’s grip as he’d pushed Alec back and bracketed him in with those long legs; how he’d scraped his teeth slowly, torturously down the line of Alec’s throat, and then closed his mouth in an imperfect seal over the angry red marks and sucked, his lips like a brand against Alec’s skin - 

Alec shudders. Yeah, he can’t bring himself to even skim his fingertips over the marks without immediately melting and calling Magnus to just take him home and ravish him; there’s no way he’s pressing over them to draw a healing rune or something. Not happening. 

And it’s - entirely possible - just a little bit - that Alec likes the reminder that Magnus loves him and doesn’t care who knows and that’s - there’s something so infinitely precious about that. He’s helpless in the face of anything Magnus does, reminded all over again that he’s found a love more extraordinary than he thought possible. 

“I used to think it was cute that you’re so gone on him, but now it’s just tacky.” Jace complains, breaking Alec out of his reverie. Alec and Izzy glance at their brother to see him pouting impressively in a way he developed at age ten and never quite let go of. “I don’t walk in with hickies from my boyfriend, and I’ve arguably got more of an incentive to do so.” 

“What?” Izzy asks, amused. “What incentive could you possibly have?” 

“Simon’s a vampire.” Jace announces loudly as Simon and Clary walk out of the hallway and approach the table where the three of them are gathered, engrossed in some conversation. Alec arches an eyebrow as Jace continues, unaware of his boyfriend and Izzy’s girlfriend coming up from behind him, “He has a neck kink.” 

Simon stops and flushes red, his mouth falling open as the surrounding Shadowhunters all look away, blushing, or - in the case of Raj - leer impressively for all of a second before he falls off his chair laughing. 

Lightwoods.” Raj wheezes as Alec rolls his eyes. 

Jace.” Simon hisses, and Jace looks back at Simon cheerfully. 

“Hi babe.” He says, reaching out and snagging a hand in Simon’s shirt, pulling him closer. “Look, Alec’s got hickeys from Magnus. You refuse to let me leave without putting an iratze on my neck.” 

“That is so much more about your sex life than I wanted to know, but good on you, Simon.” Izzy snickers. “Apparently you’re a lot more adventurous in bed than I realized.” Alec shudders. 

“I’m so glad Magnus has his own apartment.” He mutters to himself. Clary laughs at that, and they exchange an exasperated glance over Jace and Izzy. 

“Magnus is the High Warlock of Brooklyn.” Simon says, scowling up at Jace. “He could probably appear right now and whisk Alec away and no one could say anything. You’re just dating a simple vampire.” 

“So what, Alec is allowed to have his hickeys?” Jace whines. Alec groans and tips his head back. 

“When did we turn into a gossip circle?” He sighs. “I’m allowed to have whatever the hell I want on my body because I am an actual adult. Leave off and take your weird jealousy somewhere else private.”  

“Good idea.” Jace says, smiling winningly at Simon, who throws his hands up and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘insatiable’ before he stalks off with Jace in tow. 

“I guess we’ll go on patrol in a few hours?” Izzy asks, laughing as she draws Clary closer. “And you, big brother, can go back to Magnus and ask him to finish what he started on your neck.” 

“I hate all of you.” Alec says, even as he takes his phone out to text Magnus to come and do exactly that. 

(When they go on patrol, Alec has a matching line of hickeys extending from just below his collar to just above the waistband of his jeans. This time, his meddling siblings do not see them.)

Rain and Warmth - Credence x Reader

This is my very first Credence imagine, so I apologize if it is terrible or if Credence is OOC. If you have any comments just let me know!! Thank you so much for reading. Enjoy! 
This is also my original work please do not steal or use without credit to me. 

Summary: Credence has been kicked out of the house by ML and needs a place to stay away from the rain. The only place he knows to go to is reader’s home. When he comes to you for help your curiosity and worry get the best of you and you learn a lot more about Credence than you thought you would. 

Originally posted by matthew-daddario

Shock was all that was coursing through my veins as I stood in my doorway. The face in front of me was pale. So pale in fact that I thought he was dead, but he wasn’t. He was very much alive and soaked to the bone from the rain pouring outside. 

“Credence? W-What are you doing here?” I asked him as I watched him fidget outside of my doorway. He looked down towards the floor and wrung his hands. Something, I noticed, he did often. He glanced up through his bangs and frowned a bit.
“Ma kicked me out of the house tonight. I was wondering… I was…” He trailed off and looked down again as if what he was going to say was shameful. I gave a soft smile in return.
“Credence if you want a place to stay for the night you are more than welcome here you know.” Credence glanced back up at me again before nodding.
“If you wouldn’t mind..” I gave a soft chuckle and moved to the side of the door. Credence looked up at me finally, and I noticed the faint trace of fear in his eyes. Something was definitely wrong, but I couldn’t seem to place what it was.

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“And when I looked in his eyes, I swore I saw the stars...”

Viktor Nikiforov swore that there were moments where he’d become so lost in Yuuri’s gaze, that he wouldn’t even notice the passing of time. There were days where all he wanted to do was just stare at the beautiful man beside him. Whenever he’d become lost in Yuuri’s eyes, Viktor found it impossible to look away. And he never wanted to

He took notice to the way Yuuri’s eyes always reflected how he was feeling; even if the other didn’t openly vocalize it. For example, the way Yuuri’s eyes always sparkled whenever he was lost in deep thought. The way they became like distant and deep pools whenever Yuuri felt anxious or sad. Or, god, the way they lit up like stars whenever Yuuri smiled, or laughed. Especially when discussing a topic Yuuri loved… they would always become smaller, brighter, so full of expression and emotion, with cute wrinkles at the corners whenever Yuuri would laugh particularly hard. Viktor always knew, without Yuuri having to speak, what he was feeling. To Viktor, Yuuri had the most beautiful eyes in the world. And that’s why, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand how they’d reached this point of their conversation. 

“I wish my eyes were as beautiful as yours, Vitya…” 

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Hiccup I, II and III. I’m sorry that it is a bit messed up. I know the black eye, crown and bracelet on Hiccup III make no sense together, that Hiccup II has a chess board for no reason at all and that the Wodensfang looks like movie Toothless. Not because of laziness, it is just that I loved this little passage: 

“… and untangled me. You have to realize, that was an extraordinary act of bravery, for in those days, dragons and humans were mortal enemies. I had never SEEN a human up close before. Just killed them from a distance. I could have incinerated the child with one single breath of flame, taken him out with one slash of my dying talons. But the boy freed me, and then he nursed me back to health with his clever human fingers.

Hiccup was the first human to ride upon a dragon back. My back.”   -Wodensfang (How to steal a dragon’s sword)

Simplicity - Finn Bálor

A/N: Something short, simple, and to the point.

Originally posted by finnamonroll

“Have you ever envisioned a future?” You mumbled softly, feeling the fabric of the cotton t-shirt that stuck to his body. With one arm behind his head to support himself, his other was wrapped tightly around you, hugging you into his side. Your fingers danced along his stomach and torso while you had your head nestled against his chest; the only sound emerging to comfort you being the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “As in how, love?” His thick, Irish accent gave out, the warmth of his breath tickling your ear. You giggled quietly, casually breathing out a sigh.

“Y’know,” You mumbled. “One featuring us?” Finn knew what you meant; he just wanted to hear you say it out loud. Never had he once admitted it, but he envisioned a future with you all of the time. While he was at work, when he was off, anytime of the day, week, month, or year, he envisioned the both of you together. Forever

You wanted for his response, eager to hear what he had to say. “Oh, if only you knew.” Finn began with a laugh. If he laughed, his answer was sure to be a good one. “Every breath I take, every day that I see, and every moment that I spent with myself or with you, I’m always taking into consideration what a future would be like. And if I have to be honest with myself, there is no future if I don’t have you.” Finn smiled, twirling his index finger around a strand of your hair that laid across his chest.

You could feel your cheeks begin to radiate with that all too familiar color. Finn had that advantage over you. He could make you blush by just smiling a certain way. “I feel the same way.” You announced. “What’s the point in forever if you’re not in it?” You looked up at him. Finn rested his eyes on you, fully focused. “Exactly, love.” His oceanic blue eyes were gazing deeply into yours when you brought yourself over his body and rested yourself on top of him.

Yours and his lips connected for a brief moment, the lingering kiss leaving you both warm. As you pulled away to gaze down at the man beneath you, you couldn’t help but feel that this was simplicity. Loving Finn was simple, yet it was so extravagant that nobody could ever realize it. He was such a simple person, but extraordinary in so many ways. Yours and his relationship was simple, yet it held so much desire and passion that even the best love stories couldn’t get it straight.

“Would you agree if I said we’re simple? There’s simplicity in our relationship?” You couldn’t help but voice your thoughts. You could tell him everything. Finn bit down on his bottom lip slightly. “I agree with that, yes. Even though we may come off as a simple couple, there’s a lot of details nobody knows about.” He chuckled. “Like how I’m able to turn the tables and have you beneath me instead.”

Before you could react, Finn rolled the two of you over so he was on top. You busted out into a fit of giggles as he began peppering your face with random kisses. “You are so crazy!” You giggled uncontrollably underneath him.

Voodoo, Vodka and Vampires ~Elijah Mikaelsson~

Request: Would you mind writing a Elijah x reader where Elijah saves reader from somewhere and takes care of her? If it’s not too much trouble 😇 your writing is absolutely amazing 💕⚜️

Warnings: A slight confrontation between reader and a man (fist fight)

Pairings: Elijah x Reader

Author’s Note: 

Thank you so much https://ladytevans07.tumblr.com! I really hope you like it and sorry it took so long. First week of Year 12 was a little bit of a rush. I really enjoyed writing this and feel free to give me honest feedback :) 

To all my other followers it would mean the world to me if you give the wonderful person above a follow :) and Like always- If ya’ll have anything in mind that needs writing just shoot me a message. 

Currently working on a the Flash with Barry Allen and Daryl Dixon one. 


New Orleans. “The Big Easy” renowned for the birthplace of Jazz was actually and will always be a tumble dryer full of voodoo, vodka and vampires. You didn’t want to be demeaning to the place at all because it was exotic. From the french quarter, to the bayou, from bourbon street to dining at the Commander’s Palace and maybe getting your voodoo souvenir at Reverend Zombie’s House Of Voodoo. 

New Orleans truly had it all

But you learned that the hard way. 

You were seriously reconsidering the trip to the ‘big easy’ as your friends finished yet another bottle of vodka and you hadn’t even left the accomodation. 

“Y/N!” your best friend’s voice lolled from within the bathroom as the other one was sprawled out on the bed laughing hysterically at a magazine article. 

“Yeah!?” you called back pulling yourself up from the bench on the porch your room gave you access to. You were watching the little shops prepare for the festival that was about to make it’s way down the street towards the French Quarter. 

“Help me with this darn dress pleaaaaaaasssseeee.” she lolled again and you shivered at the amount of alcohol you could hear in her voice. 

You didn’t drink much. You tried to stay as sober as possible with your friends being the ones that usually drink till they can’t remember a thing. You were just cautious. The mother-hen of the friend group. And you were damn proud of it. 

You stepped into the bathroom clearly seeing your tipsy best friend struggling with her skin tight sparkling dress’ zipper. She turned and pouted- her dress falling so that her bright pink bra was visible as her shoulders slouched. 

“Oh c’mon” you said motioning for her to turn around and with that her giggle and babbling returned. 

“I love you so much Y/N” she smiled as she landed her frail hands on your shoulders after you quickly and easily fixed her dress. I nodded and she laughed hysterically. The plain swing dress you were wearing nothing in comparison to her and the other two girls’ clothes. 

 “WE ARE READY!” she screamed leaping out of the bathroom- both of their squeals echoed down the hallway. You sighed bolting out of the bathroom trying to grab everything that you needed for tonight’s festival. 

“fuck.” you hissed as you knocked over an empty bottle of vodka and it clattering to the ground. You ignored it and slipped on your flats. 

“Phone, keys, purse, money, camera.” you listed and with that you were out the door struggling to keep up with the squealing friends. You quickly glanced at your watch. It was already 9:00pm. You most certainly missed the family friendly part of the festival. 

Tonight was going to be fun

In all honesty. 

You’d much rather be doing some historical tour of New Orleans than being stuck counting the heads of your drunken friends as they hung around locals at a alcohol stand on the busy streets of the French Quarter. 

‘one, two.’ 

You glanced around you feeling utterly out of your comfort zone. You had walked about three or four blocks from your accomodation towards this area with a massive struggle as the two girls were just picking up drink after drink. 

You feared what was going to happen later tonight. You were awkwardly seated at one of the bars and upon arriving you quickly claimed the table that gave you just enough view of the street to keep an eye on your friends. Other than that you were deeply lost in a novel you had strung along in your handbag. 

But as your eyes grazed across the crowd in habit something odd caught your gaze. When you looked again your eyes were glued to one spot. Someone was staring at you. The tall man with the sleek suit was leaning against a pole blatantly starring at you. His skin like porcelain. A small smile playing around his lips. 

You stiffened and he immediately noticed. And offered you an even softer smile which you returned slightly. 

He was suddenly pulled out of his gaze by a woman with bright blonde hair hitting him on the shoulder and your heart and stomach sunk. Slowly you turned back to counting the heads of your three friends and trying your best to focus on the words on the page. But you couldn’t and looked up. 

The man was gone and you groaned slightly. Then you counted again. 

‘one, tw-’ you counted but the last brunette was nowhere to be seen. 

Your eyes flared up in horror and your chest flamed at the thought of loosing one of them in New Orleans. Drunk! 

Your eyes started scanning. But in the ocean of heads your eyes strained. 

“Mel!” you called your best friend’s name prepping to grab your bag and start running into a crowd much like a chicken who had just got his head chopped off, but when no one’s head’s turned- you realised the seriousness of the situation. Your toes and fingers went numb.

 “Me-” but before you could finish your sentence a icy cool hand shed over your bare shoulder. 

“She’s over there.” a deep voice spoke in your ear almost. You turned around, startled slumping back down in the chair. The same man that was staring at you was standing before you his hand slightly rested on your bare shoulder. 

You glanced at the direction his slim finger held and relieved you sighed out loud seeing the brunette. 

“Thank you for that.” you blurted noticing how gorgeously perfect the man that hovered over you was. 

“It’s my pleasure. May I?” he questioned motioning towards the open chair you smiling cautiously. 

“Yes of course.” you smiled as he took the seat in front of you. You flipped your book closed and looked up at then mysterious man- who first stared at you and now wanted to sit with you. 

“My name is Elijah Mikaelsson.” he introduced himself, asking for your hand. You slowly gave it to him as he planted a kiss on the back of it and you flustered slightly. 

“Y/N…Y/L/N.” you smiled as he let go of your hand you slowly retracted it. 

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you Y/N.” he softly smiled. Your tummy lit up in butterflies. Like a match being ignited. 

You then suddenly noticed with a shock what you were wearing. In comparison to the rest of New Orleans and especially in comparison to Elijah. 

Your eyes shifted uncomfortably, looking nervously as people passed, to your friends, to him and he immediately noticed. 

“You look extraordinary Y/N.” he spoke as if reading your thoughts. 

“Thank you, I’m not really one for events like this” you painfully stated. 

“Well-” he stated, “You do look the part.” 

“You don’t look too bad yourself Elijah.” you smiled. 

He chuckled heavily making you laugh with him. 

“If I may- those friends of yours. The ones that are a little bit over intoxicated. Are you looking after them?” he innocently questioned. 

You chuckled, “Spot on Elijah Mikaelsson.” 

He chuckled and you smiled towards him. 

“Speaking of them- I should go check up on them.” you smiled, “I’ll see you around.” 

He smiled- “it’d be a pleasure” 

1:58 am. Your watch flickered and you with that you flipped your book close. 

That’s enough for one night. And with that you grabbed your belongings. 

After struggling to get a hold of both your friends and pry foreign hands off them- it was safe to say that you were on your way back to the accomodation. 

The night’s events embedded deeply in your memory. Elijah’s name and gorgeous smile making you grin like an absolute idiot. You knew it was only a short conversation but oh how you wished for it to be much longer. You disappeared into your own thoughts but your dreamworld was rudely interrupted. 

Your best friend’s shrill scream echoed in the empty alley you had wondered in within your daze of thoughts. Within seconds you pushed the other one behind you to see what was going on. The panic flaring up in your chest for the second time in two days. Someone was pinning her against the wall.

“Hey! Get your bloody hands off her!” you yelled without thinking. You stepped forward and tugged at the person who held your whimpering best friend. But he didn’t budge. Only turned his head to snarl at you and once he opened his mouth you had to stifle a scream. 

Fangs. Protruding from his mouth like that of a dog’s. And cracks appearing under his demon eyes. You then in the darkness of the alley saw the liquid coating not only his fangs but his whole mouth and the liquid that stained your best friend’s sequenced dress. 

“No!” you screamed and flung your fist at his cheek. But as soon as it connected with his face your hand flared up in agonising pain. You had- although- startled him so much that he had moved away from Mel and hollered a foreign word. 

You grabbed a hold of your friend and tugged her towards the other trembling girl behind you- but before you could register- the man recoiled and hit you hard across your face. 

You hit the ground with immense force and your friends let out a shrill cry for help. 

“You bastard!” You yelled as you leapt to your feet. You readied your fists once again and the man laughed planting another fist to the same cheek. 

You wanted to vomit from the pain but stood your ground. You then hit- he dodged- you hit again- and then kicked- catching him off guard only slightly. Then he hit you again and your knees buckled. 

“What were you doing with the Original?” he questioned as you tried to pull yourself upright. Two or three other men had decided to show up and was harshly both your friends in their un-Godly strong arms. 

“I-” you spat out blood, “Don’t know what you are talking about.” 

Then a kick came to your ribcage and you recoiled. The screams from your two friends not seizing. Another kick. And another. Your sprawled on the ground as the man with the dirty blonde hair- hair that looked black in the alleyway lifted you by the collar. 

You had never regretted wearing a dress this much before. But another blow came to your face and you could feel your face swelling. 

“Let them go!” you yelled out. “Please!” you screamed. 

“They are mine- you and that Original- I saw the way he looked at you. I’m going to make him suffer” he angrily shouted and you almost vomited. How was he going to make someone else suffer by beating you? 

“Kill them-” he uttered. 

“NO!” you screamed. “No, no!” 

He let out a shrill laugh as he kicked you again but suddenly someone was towering over you- much taller than the man who was beating you. 

You regained some energy and crawled away. But as you turned your eyes connected with a horrifying scene. 

“Elijah-” your voice stammered. He had quickly extended his hand and snapped the man’s neck letting him fall limply to the ground. Elijah’s fangs blood red. The same cracks visible under his eyes. You felt your head spin as another figure advanced towards the men holding your friends- two actually. 

Then Elijah advanced toward you, trying to pull you up. “Elijah what are you?” you called. 

“Y/N don’t be afraid” he reassured and you felt the darkness drag your eyes closed. 

“Y/N” he sternly stated and within a flash he was by your side- catching you before you hit the ground. 

You woke with distant voices tugging you from your slumber. In a matter of seconds the events of the night before hit your mind like a bullet and your body convulsed against a sheet. 

“Elijah!” you gasped springing up from the incredibly soft mattress you were laying on and the immediate headache that came with a pang. 

The room you were in was absolutely elegant. A gold trim decorating the accents of the cream coloured walls. You didn’t take much notice further because your eyes landed on Elijah and you had to stiffen a scream. 

His eyes lit up and he strolled over to you. 

“No you stay away from me!” you stammered as Elijah stopped in his tracks. 

“I am not going to hurt you Y/N.” he said sternly. “I am not going to hurt you- I promise. Your safe. Your friends are safe. Those men are gone-” 

You interrupted him quickly, “You call them ‘men’ they were monsters!” you exclaimed. His eyebrows furrowed in regret and exhaustion. He then continued to walk towards you. 

“You…you looked like them.” you whispered and he nodded. 

“I need to tend to your wounds.” he said. You nodded. He seated himself on the bed as he pulled a cloth out of a bowl of murky looking water. You dodged it by leaning back, your eyes flicking over to the bowl and then back to him. 

“It’s an antiseptic Y/N.” he sighed and you sat upright once more. You winced as he pressed the dap cloth onto an open crack above your eyebrow. 

“Elijah.” you whispered, “What are you? What was that man looking for? He said I talked to an Original and that he was going to make him suffer by beating me. I don’t understand.” Your lower lip trembled. 

Elijah put the cloth back in the bowl and played with his own fingers. 

“He was looking for me Y/N” he spoke deeply lost in thought, “I’m an Original.” 

“What does that mean?” you questioned angrily, hands shaking. His hands landed on yours. The one purple and pink. The one you punched the man with. 

“I’m an Original Vampire.” he said and you nearly punched him square in the nose but your jaw just tightened. 

“That man- he- he- was one?” you questioned and he nodded his head. 

“I was planning on catching up with you later the evening and one of them must’ve overheard my conversation with my sister.” he rambled. 

“I punched a vampire.” you whispered and he chuckled slightly. 

“You put up one hell of a fight Y/N.” he whispered and you smiled. 

“I wasn’t prepared to die for a guy who hasn’t even taken me out on one date.” you smiled and he returned it but it quickly faded. 

“What happened to my friends?” you questioned as the panic started to set in. 

“My brother- Niklaus- took them to their accomodation. He- compelled them.” he stated, “He made them forget.” 

You looked up at him. “Can you compel people to?”. He nodded, 

“If you want I can do the same for-” he stated painfully but you quickly interrupted him. 

“No!” you blurted. 

“Your not frightened of me are you?” he questioned slightly locking eyes with you once more. 

“You saved me Elijah, and you looked after me.” you explained, “I don’t think I’ll ever be afraid of you.” 

“I’m a monster Y/N.” he sighed irritably. 

“You saved me- a person you barely knew.” you defended. “Your taking care of me Elijah- you are not a monster.” you forced. 

He nodded, “Maybe we’ll argue this later?” 

You shook your head the dull ache returning, Elijah taking the towel again. Slowly dabbing it onto the open wound on your forehead. 

“We may continue arguing the case over dinner perhaps?” he stated, a sly smile curling from his lips. 

“I can’t help but accept Elijah.” you smiled, only slight mimicking his own words and tone. You smiled up at him. How beautiful he was and yet he still believed that after saving you- he’d still be a monster. You were determined to change that. He wasn’t a monster. 

He might be a vampire- but not a monster. You were sure of it. 

Fic: Creeper (Part 2)

Summary: The promised continuation of “Creeper,” but can totally be read on its own as a separate one-shot. Dan and Phil’s first night together doesn’t go quite as either had imagined.
Word Count: about 3K
Rating: Teen
Tags: Fluff, 2009 Phan
Author’s Note: “Creeper” just didn’t seem complete on its own, so I decided to continue it. I think there’s going to be just one more part/chapter after this.

[Chronological list of all fic posts in the Creeper series]

Creeper (Part 1)

Creeper (Part 2)

They sit side by side on the floor in Phil’s bedroom. The only light is from the street lamp down the road, shining distantly in through the window. Dan said he was afraid of the dark, but that he wasn’t afraid as long as Phil was with him, and Phil’s dimly lit bedroom feels cozy and intimate. The bed would be too intimate right now, but sitting on the floor together, talking in hushed tones despite the emptiness of the house, is perfect.

Like the day, which had been perfect as well.

To be honest, the Sky Bar was a little out of Phil’s extremely limited price range, but he knew Dan would love it, and he did, so it was worth it. It was the grand finale for their first day together, and it had definitely been grand. Phil had never been there before, himself, and he’d been impressed and a little intimidated by the poshness, but Dan had been transfixed. He’d stared round at the incredible city view like a little kid, but only about half the time. The other half of the time, he stared at Phil instead, looking just as fascinated. And Phil couldn’t look away.

Keep reading


It’s a chilly Monday night in January when John knows.

Not knows, but knows.

Clear as crystal.

They’ve just returned to the flat after a dinner out at Angelo’s (two green salads; a bread basket with dipping oil; Sherlock: pesto gnocchi; John: prawn linguine; a bottle of the second-best dry red Angelo could scrounge up; five bites each of tiramisu plus one extra Sherlock sneaks whilst John is in the gents; and one peppermint that John tucks into the pocket of his cheek as they wait for a cab.)

Back in the sitting room of 221b, Sherlock wings out of his great coat and heaps it over the shambles of what looks like the frayed end of a laptop charger and a laptop curiously missing its screen. John pretends not to notice the cover-up as he digs through the cupboards for the now mostly-empty bottle of Ardbeg Uigeadail that Sherlock had lowered nonchalantly into their mostly-full trolley during a recent spending spree at Waitrose. (Thanks to a client’s generous tip, John had also splurged on not one but two rather posh candles for bathtime. Sherlock, bless his heart, had said nothing and tossed in a packet of Twirl Bites for good measure).

“Want a little?” John gestures with an empty glass.

“A finger.” Sherlock hums, prodding the early burst of flames beneath his hands. A comforting pop shoots sparks up into the dark cool air of the chimney. “Actually give me two fingers.”

John refuses to acknowledge the way the tips of his ears heat.

He pours their shares, spins the cap tightly back on the bottle, and leaves it be on the worktop. Coming over and holding a glass out to Sherlock, he plops down in his chair. “Been thinking more about that cold case.” He lets out a low groan as he readjusts the Union Jack pillow at the small of his back. “It could be argyria.”

“Argyria.” Sherlock’s fingers curl around his glass. He cocks an eyebrow in the way only Sherlock can cock an eyebrow.

“Why not?” John leans forward slightly. “A condition where skin turns an abnormal shade of grey-blue due to prolonged contact with silver salts. Victim worked in manufacturing, something with solar energy stuff.”

“Silver’s used in the photovoltaic conductive ink–”

“–which he produced, didn’t he?”

They stare at each other for a moment. A curve of a smile teases the corner of Sherlock’s mouth. “Well done, John.”

“I’m certain that’s what it is.” John moves to set his glass down on the small table next to his chair. The fire crackles pleasantly at his feet. Sherlock’s eyes crinkle as he lets the smile blossom fully into his features, a slight flush from the warmth of the room colouring high on his cheekbones.

God, you’re beautiful, John thinks.

“I’ll phone Lestrade tomorrow,” Sherlock nods. Crosses then uncrosses his ankles.

“Not now?”

“No, I’m…rather certain.” Sherlock means to glance at the fireplace, John thinks, but he doesn’t, he doesn’t look anywhere but at John’s face. Then his gaze instead flickers to John’s mouth before circling back up.

“I’m quite certain too.” John says a hint too loudly as his grin drops fondness into the well-worn lines round his eyes.

He feels alive. Purely, unabashedly happy and alive.

“You’ve mentioned.” Sherlock lets his knees bounce apart as he eases his bum down further in his chair. A floppy curl breaks free from its twin to grace his forehead as he ducks his chin down to his chest, the whisky rolling amber and loose in the glass still in his hand.

“Have I done?” John nearly whispers. He feels magnetised, unable to look away.

God, you’re incredibly beautiful, he thinks again.

“Yes.” Sherlock’s voice is a low rumble. He winks.

We’re…flirting. And I think he knows.

I know too.

John doesn’t feel afraid.

“There’s a few other things I’m certain of.” The fire snaps a punctuation of sparks in-between his words. “For example,” he feels his tongue dip out between his lips, wetting them, which catches Sherlock’s gaze again, “I’m certain that Angelo brought out that bottle because you asked him to.”

Sherlock nods again, conceding silently, as his eyes flick back up to John’s.

“I’m certain that you already researched the argyria diagnosis and told Lestrade about it.”

Sherlock starts to shake his head, but stops when John raises both eyebrows. Gracefully he shifts into a gentle nod and lets his legs drift even further apart.

John swallows.

“I’m certain that tonight at dinner… It was nice. I liked it, being there with you.” John says. “In a way I didn’t want it to end.”

“I did.” Sherlock never fails to surprise in the least surprising ways.

The thing is, John knows better now. “You did?”

“Oh I’m certain.” A soft smile. “I like this quite a bit more than eating pesto gnocchi in public.”

“Hmm.” John expects for his heart to burst out through his ribs, or for his palms to be sweating, or for his breath to be high and tight and shaky but he feels none of those things, none at all. “Come to think of it, I guess I did too.”

Sherlock asks him the question he’s been waiting for. “Why?”

The moment is perfectly ordinary in the most extraordinary way. Sat in their chairs, fire burning, together, at home.

“Because I was certain of another thing.” John feels a long awaited dawning deep in his core. “I was certain that I wanted to come back here and ask if I could kiss you.”

He waits, searching Sherlock’s face.

It’s the best first kiss John’s ever had.


The two glasses of whisky sit, all but forgotten, until John tips them down the sink four days later with a pair of cupid bow lips pressed against the back of his neck, soft and warm just along the edge of his hairline.



It was impossible not to be so entranced by such a beautiful boy. A beautiful man. A wonderful human being. A decent human being, who taught the world how to be kind, even if they didn’t realize they were learning. He loves people like they deserve to be loved, making sure to let them know it was okay. It was okay to be loved and to fall in love, that’s what we live for after all. But this boy lives for so much more. This man lives to make others happy, because that’s where he finds his own.

He’s a breath of relief, to see such maturity in a young person, it leaves others in true awe. The way he presents himself, with such confidence that could make you shrink into yourself, feel small. But he has the ability to pull you right out of that state of mind. He’ll make you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. He’s kind and sensitive and all that a man should be.

It was impossible not to notice him. It was impossible not to get caught up.

And it was impossible not to fall in love.


He was by no means perfect though. He had a temper. He had a tendency to disregard certain things, even though he didn’t mean to. He could be the life of the party one minute, and a great introvert the next, keeping to himself in an intriguing way. He was intimidating, but he had that aura. He would make you feel like you needed to be his friend, like you needed to know him and be a part of his extraordinary life.

He had spots and blemishes on his face, but make up covered that up well. When he was particularly tired, the circles under his eyes added to that imperfection. He had a bit of a lazy eye, but you couldn’t really tell unless you were dead on staring, and even then you would most likely get lost in the icy green of them, specs of gold.


But you never saw him like I did. You never laid next to him like I did. You never felt the warmth of his skin like I did.

And I can still recall, memories far from vague. How his hair was lighter in the sun. A golden brown, or maybe blonde, that had me running my fingers through the strands with little to no notice that I was doing it. His eyes, bright and excited, crinkles on the corners. The dip on his cheek prominently deepened with every laugh shared, every joke told, every happy moment lived. His lips, just like in the photos, and how the world sees them. Pink, and enticing. The way that he spoke, the way that his lips moved and pursed around every word, it was hard not to notice.

And you never felt those lips like I did. They touched my hands, my fingers, my neck. My ears, my hair, my forehead. My temples, my eyes, my cheeks, my nose. My lips. They were gentle, and they were rough. And sometimes, on cold days or nights, they were chapped. They were cold, they were warm. They were mine. Behind closed doors…always.

He was mesmerising.


And you never saw him fall like I did.

Takes a grand deal to make a great man fall, but it takes even more to lift him back up.


He was superman. He was untouchable, indestructible. But only to the public.

Behind closed doors. Where everything happens.

My touch couldn’t help him. My begging and pleading and attempts at negotiating couldn’t save him.

My love could not save us.


What did I do?

What did I not do?

Little did I know, it’s what he had done.

aurora under the ice, pt. 1

Voeld lives up to its harsh reputation, and Saskia and Jaal are stuck in a cave alone to wait out a storm. Jaalmance, pre-relationship (ao3 link)
previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

“I think my mandible is frozen,” Vetra grumbled, hunched down and sounding thoroughly disgruntled through their coms. “Remind me to bring a scarf next time we start marching through a snowstorm.”

“Turian scarves,” Liam said through chattering teeth. “That’s a laugh.”

“Because only humans can keep their necks warm?”

“All right, maybe the idea of you knitting yourself a scarf is hilarious.”

“Why is making one’s clothing cause for hilarity?” Jaal asked. Of Saskia’s three companions, he was the only to sound unaffected by the cold. “Or am I misunderstanding?”

Saskia’s mouth twitched as she keyed in the final code to set up their forward station, turning to watch her little recon group huddling together for warmth around the still smoking pod.

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Where are my 6ft+ black women

I love tall women 😍

Do you know the beautiful sensation you get when she wear heels and is slightly taller than you 😍

Do you know the amazing feeling you get when you’re playing ball and she’s giving that extraordinary defence with the craziest trash talk and it turns you on a lil bit 😍

Do you know the euphoric sentiment you experience when you are talking the nastiest shit to her while kissing and bitting all over her body and your tongue is doing track and field from her ankles to her pussy 😍

I want something real like I’m asking to see God… and she came down herself