i write on bills

So that was bit better than last week.
Well, at least there were some unexpected developments and some tension. But, I don`t know, the monsters are just not scary at all. And the doctor having his special glasses and not sending a video of the lock to Bill? Seriously? Also I thought it was an interesting choice to make him blind and if he really has his eyesight back just like that I think that`s rather weak writing. Also I missed cheeky, smart Bill in this episode.
Guess I just don`t like it when Moffat writes.
I´m looking forward to the next episode though. At least we get Missy. I just hope it`s not a dream in a dream sort of thing.

Since Bill has been announced as the first openly gay Doctor Who companion…. 

- Bill who flirts with all sorts of 19th century women until the doctor has to pull her away because planet to save Bill, come on!

- Bill who almost accidentally destroyed the hierarchy of an alien monarchy by giving the cute princess a flower (a violent declaration of war on their planet)

- Bill who makes amazing food for anyone and everyone

- Bill who sits people down and gives the best, and bluntest, advice when they’re having girl trouble

- Bill who heard that all of these women fell in love with the doctor and just started fucking laughing

- She was in hysterics for the next ten minutes 

- She still finds it hilarious, even now 

- Because all these pretty women

- And him?

Me, writing a philosophical literature essay at 3am: 

A long time ago, actually never, and also (now). Nothing is nowhere. When? Never. Makes sense, right? Like I said, it didn’t happen. Nothing was never anywhere. That’s why it’s been everywhere. It’s been so everywhere you don’t even need a where. You don’t even need a when. That’s how every it gets. Forget this. I wanna be something. Go somewhere. Do something. I want things to change. I want to invent time and space. And I know it’s possible because everything is here and it probably already happened. I just don’t know when to start. 

it’s kinda sad now that new gravity falls fans won’t get to experience the ultimate, incredibly satisfactory reveal that was finding out that ford and the stan twin theory were real

etherealalchemist  asked:

Consider this: It's evening. Victor and Yuuri are in their apartment, laying together on the sofa with Makkachin plastered on their legs. Yuuri's halfway on Victor's chest, halfway between Victor's body and the sofa, and their legs are twined together. It's raining outside and their dark apartment is lit with candles around the room and on the coffee table beside them. Victor plays with Yuuri's hair and, with a smile, softly sings "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You" to his life and love.

jenn… heck me up jenn…

consider that this always happens after a hard day of practice, after round after round of jumping then falling then trying only to fall again. yuuri doesn’t get increasingly frustrated, not really, because he’s used to it—climbing mountains just for the chance to stand on the same ground. 

no, yuuri doesn’t get frustrated, but it wears on him, being surrounded by people like victor and yuri, being reminded that he can ache and sweat and cry and bleed all he wants but it will only achieve just so. he can’t help this feeling either, no matter how hard he tries, because he’s still happy for them, so happy and so proud, heart swelling at their every success; so comparing himself to them makes the guilt weigh more heavily. he imagines it simmering beneath the ice that he skates on, pulling him down, down, down when he attempts another jump.

“we should take a break.” victor frowns as he holds out a hand to help him up.

yuuri chokes on a breath. “just—one more—”

“you said that earlier, and you’re hurting—”

“one more.” 

yuuri’s voice echoes around the rink, startles yuri out of his sit spin a few meters away. prompts mila and georgi to look over from where they’re doing their cooling down stretches. victor sends them a tight smile, the corner of his eye catching yakov’s figure standing at the mouth of the rink, arms crossed and face guarded. he’s silent, watching. 

victor tears his eyes away and pulls yuuri into a hug. 

he sniffs. “vitya—”

“show me one more, solnyshko, and then we’ll head home for the day,” victor says softly, fingers carding through the other man’s hair. “okay?”

yuuri nods against his shoulder. 

and that night, when yuuri’s in his arms, drifting off to the sound of victor singing into his ear, victor wipes at the leftover tears drying on his cheek. we both can’t help falling, so let’s fall together. 

anonymous asked:

Pls help I am in desperate need of a restaurant au with waiter bitty + ZIMMBITS

When Eric moved to Providence for college he really hadn’t envisaged being a waiter. Sure, he knew he’d need a job - don’t even get him started on the debt he was going to end up with by going to this school - but for whatever reason he’d never imagined that he’d end up in a little French restaurant, serving dishes with names that he can’t even translate. 

Honestly, he thinks he’s damn lucky he was even hired what with his lack of experience - the owner seems to have a soft spot for him though so Eric’s not going to complain. He’s been working there for just over a week now, finally settling into the habit of balancing plates on his arms and not causing a ruckus every time a customer requests something even slightly off the menu. He’s just dropped off a dessert bowl for a couple when he spots a new customer sitting alone at a table. 

“Hello, I’m Eric, and I’ll be your waiter for today. Can I get you something to drink?” He tries not to make it sound rehearsed, but truthfully he’s a little tired because he’d spent last night writing an essay into the early hours in the morning. When he properly looks at the guy he’s serving, he realises with a funny little flutter in his stomach that he’s - well. He’s hot.

“Uh…” says the customer, “Just some still water, thanks.” He’s got a heavy Québécois accent which is actually not that common for Providence even though they aren’t far from Canada. 

Eric thinks it’s fucking adorable. 

“Sure,” says Eric, “Do you need more time to decide on your food?”

He watches, fascinated as the man pulls his lower lip between his teeth and bites for a second, before answering. “What would you recommend?”

It takes Eric a moment to process his words, which is kind of embarrassing and he really hopes he’s not blushing. “Err - the croque monsieur is really good.” He knows he stumbles over the French and he really wishes he was fluent because his customer is smirking just a little bit at him now.

“Okay. I’ll have one of those, please?” He passes Eric the menu with a smile that makes Eric’s insides go all warm and squishy. He feels like facepalming or pulling out his phone to tweet about his new cute customer but resists the urge.

“Merci,” The guy says, and his eyes flicker down to Eric’s shirt for a second and he smiles, and in that same accent, “Eric.” 

Eric definitely blushes. (He also swears loudly once he’s back in the kitchen, but that’s not so important.)

Eric’s waiting aimlessly by the kitchen door when it happens. The cooks are talking to the waitress and he catches a bit of the conversation when the door opens.

“Jack Zimmermann, yeah!”

There’s a pause and then Eric hears, “Fucking hell, bro, that’s awesome!”

He frowns but thinks nothing of it, instead goes out to the restaurant and picks up a few empty plates before he goes to check on the cute guy by the window (again). 

“Everything okay?” he says, trying not to sound to eager. 

The customer smiles. “Yeah, it was really good, thanks.”

Eric hovers for a second while he takes Jack’s plate. “Do you wanna order anything else or…?”

“Wha - oh, no, sorry. I - um -”


It looks like the guy is having some sort of internal struggle before his shoulders sag. “Just the check, please.”

Eric smiles and fetches it for him. When he comes back, the guy is twiddling a pen between his fingers and there’s another guy who he’s waving at that’s walking away from his table with a huge grin on his face.

Eric looks between the two and raises an eyebrow. “Company?”

“I - uh -”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, “None of my business.”

“No, it’s okay,” the guy says, looking embarrassed. “Just an autograph.”

Eric is taken aback by that - is this guy some famous celebrity that he’s never heard of? (Maybe he needs to catch up on his tv.) Still, he’s got a job to do so he shrugs it off and thanks the guy when he hands him back the receipt with money and a very generous tip.

It’s only when he gets to the kitchen that he realises there’s a note scrawled onto the bottom of the receipt:

You can totally ignore this but my friends say I need to get out more. Also, I think you’re really cute. - Jack (401-555-0147)

Eric would like to say that he’s an independent man who don’t need no boy but he can’t help letting out a little squeal anyway.

this au <3 thanks! send me writing prompts :)

anonymous asked:

In that one fic where Stan and Bill go to Vegas, it was said that when Bill wasn't around Dipper it showed "worse"? When he's not around Dipper is he more open about liking him, or...? Sorry- just kind of curious. Love all your writing, thanks for it!

Here are some things Stan noticed during that trip to Vegas, in no particular order.

1: Bill can be alright. Sometimes. When all his dickishness is pointed at someone else, he’s not the worst guy Stan’s teamed up with. And it earns one hell of a profit.
2: Bill never shuts up
3: Ever
4: Especially about Dipper
5: It’s not Stan’s freakin’ fault Dipper’s visiting his parents, or that Dipper didn’t want to bring Bill along, and frankly, Bill should be at least three fewer margaritas into the evening
6: Dipper’s an alright looking guy, but Bill after a few can’t stop complaining about how much more fun this would be if his ‘Adorable mortal’ were around
7: No, Stan’s not helping Bill decide what kind of souvenir would annoy Dipper the most, shopping’s interrupting a good flow of scamming
8: Stan would break Bill’s nose for the near-deadly bullshit he almost pulled on that one guy - but they’ve got a racket going and that’d interrupt it harder
9: Bill plays along with the Fake Heart Attack thing like a pro! They mighta gotten kicked out (again) if there weren’t a ‘doctor’ insisting Stan needed ‘immediate whiskey and a free hotel room’ and a few thousand in chips for ‘liability purposes’.
10: Bill gets a lotta lady attention, along with others. Charms all kindsa people - up until he pulls the carpet out from underneath them once he got their cash. Also, where did he get all those pictures of Dipper in his wallet. Or a wallet. And jeez, would he stop going on about how adorable his ‘husband’ is, it’s getting weird
11: It’s kinda alright to have another guy around who appreciates a good cigar.
12: When they don’t have the same goal, Stan can trust Bill about as far as he can throw him - but Dipper seems like a good way to keep him in line.

fic: small things

pairing: bill potts / rose tyler
words: 500-ish
summary: bill serves chips. rose likes to eat them.
read on ao3

“I’ll get some chips and a soda,” Rose says, checking her wallet for change. There isn’t very much of it: two pounds, and fare for the bus home from work. She frowns. “Just the soda, actually.”

“Are you sure?” asks the girl at the counter, finger hovering over a button on the till.

“Just the soda,” Rose confirms.

The girl looks like she’s gonna say something, but bites her lip and turns to get a large cup from the counter behind her.

“What?” Rose asks.

“What what?”

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a Bill x Martha AU fic where Twelve is just an ordinary eccentric professor who gives brilliant lectures, one of which is where Bill and Martha meet for the first time

for @angelandfaith

A girl plopped down into the seat next to Bill’s, messenger bag hitting the floor with a thud that suggested more textbooks than just the one she was carrying.

“Thought I was going to miss the start today. You know how he is about latecomers and I wasn’t about to be his latest example,” she said, directing a bright smile at Bill before leaning down to dig a notebook and pen out of her bag.

“Yeah, he’s pretty harsh about the time,” Bill agreed. She was honestly amazed she’d managed to form a sentence, even if it was an inane one. Her new neighbor was gorgeous, all skin like copper and twinkling eyes and brilliant smile.

Yeah, no way were her notes going to be great today with something other than the Doctor’s lecture to hold her attention.

“I’m Martha, by the way,” the new arrival said, turning that smile back on Bill.

“Bill.” She hoped that her smile was enough to convey her very deep interest in continuing this conversation later because before she could say anything else, the Doctor stepped onto the platform and began his lecture with his normal dramatic flair.

By the time the lecture was over and the eccentric professor had disappeared, Bill’s nerves had had enough time to build to a buzzing overload in regards to the conversation she was hoping to have and then dissipate again.

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