i'm having a moment carry on

Summary: During Digestivo. Hannibal prepares himself & an unconscious Will for their final conversation. 

Hannibal carried him inside. Chiyoh offered to help. He was tired, after all. Frozen and bloodied, hair mopped to the side of his face, shoulders tense and stiff from having been tied back. But he refused, a silent shake of his head and Chiyoh backed away. Walked to the field, rifle in hand. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate her. How, wordlessly, she knew. This was something he must do alone.

Will lay slumped in the backseat, arms limp on the floor. Dead weight. Hannibal felt the same strain he had the night before when he carried him, though he no longer had adrenaline fueling his body. He brought Will, slow, up the steps, across the porch, over the threshold, reveling in every second of pain the twinge in his back sent lighting up his spine.

Hannibal laid Will down delicate onto his bed. Careful not to wake him with too much movement. Fearing he might break.

He’d need some time to think. Prepare. More time than Will’s body was unconsciously willing to give, so he gave two gentle flicks to the syringe, a steady gentle pressure on the plunger, and Will’s sleep took on a far more tranquil rhythm. He drifted deeper. Hannibal, finally, exhaled.

He took a step back, took a moment. Contemplated the door. It stood open behind him, winter chill seeping in through the gap. And then there was the car. Chiyoh. The ease with which he could disappear. It was, he knew, the most practical option. He could make his way to the coast and set sail, heading someplace quiet and obscure, somewhere Will would surely never find him. He’d have to leave quickly in order to get far enough. He’d have to leave now. Hannibal’s eyes, resting on the doorknob, flicked back to the bed. To Will’s pillow flattened curls, the iron streaks of dried blood along his jawline.

He shut the door quietly, though he knew Will was sedated. Nodded to Chiyoh through the window and set to work. 

He took care of himself first, Will’s shower rattling to life, blood peeling off him here and there, ripping off soaking bandages. Ignoring, as best he could, the cold and awful weight inside his chest. The feeling of his lungs filling with water. Water stinging sharp against the brand on his back, the burn raw, white hot pain in every corner of his body.

Deep, drying breaths. Hannibal redressed himself, his wounds. Turned his attention to Will. He undressed him as slowly as time would allow, fingers gliding over skin with each gentle tug of fabric. Placed a cloth over what Will would not want him to see, wrestling down the urge to look. He’d never looked before and he wouldn’t now, Will was worth more than that. Although.

Hannibal sat up straight and felt, all around him, a tension. An uncomfortable air of finality. A penultimate afternoon. He looked back down at Will.

This could very well be his last chance to look. Admire.

Still, he didn’t. He did allow himself one thing, though, face in the crook of Will’s neck. A deep, slow inhale. Committing the scent to memory, locking it in its own room near the center of his mind, before he began with the water.

There were parts of Will still caked in blood from days prior, places Mason’s men hadn’t taken care of. Patches of rough blood stuck to the skin on his chest, stomach, spilt from where Hannibal had opened his head. He couldn’t deny the bizarre amusement he felt cleaning up the fallout from something he had inflicted, though of course, with Will, it wasn’t the first time. His eyes narrowed as his musings led him to the terrible realization that this would, in fact, be the last time. 

Dabbing gently with warm water, watching close as beads of it rolled across Will’s hips, dripping off his waist. Hannibal changed the bandages on Will’s shoulder. Cleaned the wound across his forehead. Slow and somehow far too quick. He took his deliberate time pressing Will dry with a towel, dressed him up again in warm and comfortable clothes. Smoothing the hair across his forehead, resting his fingers against Will’s face.

He knew this would be the last time. Of course he knew. The last time his hands would grip his face. The last time he’d lay him down onto a bed. Hannibal closed his eyes and lived, for only a fraction of a second, in a world where the opposite was true. Where these actions were the first of many times.

…It was still possible. A tiny sliver of possibility rested inside Will, the chance that his journey sparked a deeper understanding of the truth of him, the truth of Hannibal. How those truths fit together.

But then there was the truth of the bullet wound in Will’s shoulder. The ugly scar across his head. The reality of their situation sat thick at the back of Hannibal’s throat, cold in his stomach.

This was the last time.

So, he cleaned up. Discarded old bandages, positioned Will comfortably, carried a chair to his bedside. Hannibal flipped to a new page in his journal, pausing to open the levy, let icy dread flood through his veins and into his pen. Worked, diligent, at solving the problem that teacups and time had laid out before him.

Y’know how at the beginning of Seize the Day, Racetrack pulls out a harmonica and starts to play? Like? He didn’t have time to retrieve it from the lodging house. Obviously he was just carrying it around. Watching. Waiting. Ready to whip it out at a moment’s notice. As David begins to sing, the heavens open up. The angels sing. It is Time. His moment has come.

Watch on xenadd.tumblr.com

Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds on the Oprah Winfrey Show, 2011

I watched this interview this morning, and it’s full of wonderful moments. Honest moments. Hilarious moments. Memories and history and so many trials. Sadness and joy and two wonderful women who have lived such full lives in the public eye. 

A wonderful moment, after discussing growing up with starlet parents, where Debbie says that it works out because ‘now I’m the mother of Princess Leia.’ There’s just a lovely, quiet pride there.

And they duet! For, I think, the first time on camera.

Day 17: Roast the Mage

Meanwhile at the first annual Roast the Mage open mic night:

Baz steps up the mic. The crowd hushes immediately. They look upward at him with bated breath, having no clue what will come next. He’s the first one performing on this momentous occasion. 

Baz takes a deep breath, and to everyone’s utter amazement he starts rapping as Simon begins to beatbox.


I’m not gonna be nice

You know what you did

it’s no sugar and spice


And I’m not putting it lightly

those tights are made for someone

much more sprightly

Old man

sit the hell down

the mustache makes you look like 

one hell of a clown

What’re doing?

Trying to impress?

We’re thinking

that’s how 

Robin Hood would dress.

You know it

You’re a terrible father

look over the edge

look in the water

it’s the merwolves 

ready to feast

too bad it’s you

and not some roast beef. 

He drops the mic. Sparks fly. Simon takes a bow and Baz flips his hair effortlessly. 

It doesn’t matter if kylo ren wanted to kill rey.  

I really don’t give a shit.

I don’t care if, in his heart of hearts, he deeply wanted to save her from the horrors of the war that was raging and carry her off to be his bride on a far-off planet where they would drink smoothies for the rest of the sequel trilogy. I. Do. Not. Care.

My parents have repeatedly said they love me and are doing (whatever nonsense they’re pulling at the moment) for my own good. They’ve said that as they invade my privacy and isolate me from my friends. They’ve said that as they send me to environments that are deeply dangerous for me. 

My father told me he loved me, and tells me he loves me now, even though he once had to be held back by my mother as he shouted that he was going to kill me.

Abusers can say they love their victims. Abusers can ‘love’ their victims– if it’s possible to love someone while hurting them like that– but it doesn’t matter.

Acting as though the abuser’s feelings matter in this situation is absolutely disgusting. I don’t care whether your motives are to claim that Kylo Ren didn’t hurt Rey all that much (”hey, he didn’t kill her, did he?!”) or that he secretly loves her (”knocking someone out and throwing them into a tree– what a great precursor to romance!”).

I do not care.

Kylo Ren abused Rey, and it does not fucking matter what he wanted to do or what he tried to do, because at the end of the day, he violently hurt her over and over and over again even without the scene that is a canonical rape parallel.

It does not matter what Kylo Ren wanted, or what he said he wanted.

What matters is what he did.

Nothing will erase the torture and abuse in canon, and it’s honestly shocking that anyone would try to do that.

Break Even

Part 1 Part 2


I don’t have a clue how it happened.  Maybe I was delirious from this new thing that Simon was doing.  Namely, kissing me.  Admittedly, I had dreamed about it long enough that when it actually happened I sort of fell into a dream-like state.

           But in a moment of complete post-kiss stupidity, I invited him home for Christmas.  With me.  With my family.

           What could I have possibly been thinking?

           Oh right. I wasn’t.  Thinking, that is.

           But the bigger question remains.  

           Why in the world did he say yes?

Christmas takes forever to arrive.  It sounds childish to wait for Christmas, but honestly, I might have been waiting for it to be over.

           Because having Simon Snow in my house has been a nightmare.

           I should have seen it coming.  Of course my family would be horrible, pasting fake smiles on their faces in front of him and watching our every move when they thought he couldn’t see.  Of course they would judge me for inviting my – our – sworn enemy into the house out of the “goodness of my heart”.  They’ve been acting like he’s the vampire, and now that I’ve let him in he’ll drain us all in our sleep.  

           Mordelia asked me why he was here.  She said it like it was an accusation.  I told her that we weren’t fighting right now and that he needed a place to stay for Christmas and be nice.  She gave me that look with the narrow eyes like she knew it was more than that, which she didn’t.  She never does when she gives that look.  She just does it to make you think that she’s on to you, so that you’ll reveal the rest yourself.  I simply fixed her with a glare and sent her on her way.  There’s not much more I can do with her.

           Aunt Fiona isn’t talking to me.  I can’t blame her.

           But easily the worst part of the situation is Simon himself.

           Because he hasn’t kissed me since that afternoon in our dorm.  He hasn’t made any moves, he hasn’t mentioned it, he isn’t showing any signs that it happened in the first place.

           Which almost makes me wonder if it even did happen.  I couldn’t have dreamed that up, could I?


I have no bloody idea what to do.

           I kissed Baz.

           His house is big, much bigger than I expected, which is saying something.  Apart from that, his family is pretty much exactly what I thought they would be like. His dad is quiet and stern-looking. His stepmom is awkwardly friendly for my sake, but I’ll give her credit for even bothering.  His aunt is cranky, and his sister is… creepy.  That’s really the only way I can describe her.  She doesn’t talk to me, even if I try to talk to her.  She just stares at me with this weird mix of curiosity and horror, like I’m the creepy one.

           Baz is the only one I can stand to be around for extended periods of time, which is honestly really pathetic, considering our history.

           But then again, what does our history even mean now?

           After all, he invited me to his home for Christmas. After I kissed him.

           And I kind of want to do it again.

           Instead I do the opposite.  I act like it never happened.

           Because I’m afraid.  I’m afraid of what this means.

           Because he’s the enemy, whether either of us wants it or not.

           Is he really?

           I can’t kill him if I want to kiss him.


I don’t know how I’ve gotten any sleep this whole holiday with him in my room.  It’s stupid, I know, since we’ve been sharing a room for years, but this feels way more intimate than that.  It makes me feel so much more exposed.


His room is cold, like him, but at least it doesn’t have any monsters under the bed, or anywhere else.  Apart from him, anyway.  Assuming I’m right and he is a vampire.

           That should bother me.  It always has.

           I didn’t feel any fangs when I…

           He’s given me every spare blanket he can find, and I’ve piled them up on top of me to peel off one by one when I start to overheat, which happens nearly every night.  I wonder if he’s ever too cold in here, or if he finds this comfortable.

           I wonder if he would overheat if I were to hold him while he slept.  Assuming he ever lets me get that close again.

           I wonder why I want him to let me, and if I’ll ever be able to stop wanting things.

           I can’t kill him if I want to kiss him.

           So maybe I’ll have to make a choice.

           And maybe I already know there’s no way I could kill him now.  


I wake up on Christmas morning to find Simon already gone from his little nest on the sofa at the foot of the bed.  I let my head fall back to the pillow, not ready to get up yet.  The sun has only just peeked over the horizon and through the window.  

           Come to think of it, Simon is up really early.

           He could just be in the bathroom.

           Or he could have left.

           And just like that, I can’t get the thought out of my head, even though I know it’s dumb.  After all, where could he possibly go?

           But it’s too late.  The thought has taken purchase and it won’t let go.

           I throw back the covers and shove my feet into my slippers, grabbing my robe before leaving the room.  The house is quiet, apart from the gentle sighs of the ghouls in the curtains.  I don’t hear Simon’s usual too-loud bumbling footsteps, or Mordelia’s Christmas morning tiptoe, or anyone else moving through the house.

           I almost don’t see him when I pass the Christmas tree in the fireside room, but a shock of blonde hair catches my eye and I double back.

           There he is, lying under the tree, sound asleep and snoring gently.

           Maybe that’s why I woke up.  The absence of snoring.

           I approach him quietly and find myself smiling sadly, wondering if he’s ever gotten to sit under a real tree on Christmas Day, surrounded by packages and ribbons and sweets.  It looks like he’s actually tried to wedge himself underneath the branches like he’s trying to blend in with the presents, but his legs stick out and his one arm is long above him, and a bauble is dangling directly over his head, brushing his curls as it sways.

           I should wake him and get him back to bed where he can sleep properly until the sun has come up, but as cliché as it sounds, he looks too peaceful.  He always has this weight on his brow, like the entire World of Mages is standing there on his eyebrows and furrowing them together.  In a way, I suppose that’s exactly the case.

           “Snow,” I whisper softly, close to his ear.

           He stirs, and then wakes up suddenly, jerking up and knocking the bauble off of its bough, the whole tree shaking with his movement.  When his eyes meet mine they’re anxious for a second before they fill with recognition.

           “Thank Merlin it’s you,” he sighs in relief.  “It would have been mortifying if any of your family had found me first.”

           “Lucky you,” I mutter.  “What are you doing down here, did you sleepwalk?”

           “I was waiting, but you took so long that I fell asleep.”  Simon yawns, brushing a ribbon from his arm and climbing out the rest of the way from under the tree.

           “You were waiting for Christmas by sleeping underneath the Christmas tree.”

           He blushes and looks down.  “Yeah, well, I had a stupid idea.”

           I raise an eyebrow.  “Do tell.”

           “You know how you got me that dagger for Christmas?”

           “Of course.”

           “And you know how I wanted to pay it back?”

           I feel myself starting to blush at the memory. “Yes.”

           His cheeks are blazing red.  “Well, I still don’t have a present for you.”

           “Snow, you let me give you a place to stay for Christmas, that’s enough.”

           “And that’s another thing.  I can’t offer the same to you, so I didn’t know how we could break even on this one.”

           I shake my head.  “Why are you so obsessed with breaking even?  I don’t want anything, Snow.”

           He meets my eye.  “Nothing?  Really?”

           I blush fully.

           “So I had this stupid idea,” he pushes on, looking away again, “that maybe when I… paid you back the first time that you wanted it, and that we could maybe do that more often.”

           I can only blink in shock at what I’m hearing.

           “So I thought,” he continues, “that even though I can’t give you anything wrapped in paper, I could give you… me.”

           I almost burst out laughing at how crazy this is. “You?”

           He shrugs.  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I really liked kissing you.”  He says kissing quickly like he wants to get it over with.  “And I really like not fighting with you.”

           I can barely breathe.  “I like not fighting, too.”

           He peeks up at me.  “Yeah?”


           “Do you think we could… not fight more often?”

           “I think we could manage it.”

           “And do you think,” he gulps, “that maybe we could…”


           He looks at me with a kind of fear I’ve never seen on him before.  He’s afraid I’ll turn him down.  It’s the kind of fear that’s been keeping me from telling him everything for years.

           And now that I’ve seen that fear in his eyes, I feel mine start to dissipate.

           I lean in.  His blush deepens and his eyes dart to my mouth and back.

           “Definitely,” I murmur, and we’re so close I can feel his hot breath grazing my lips.

           It’s Christmas morning and I’m kissing Simon Snow under the Christmas tree, and he’s sighing into my mouth and his fingers are in my hair and I can barely tell up from down.

           And Crowley, am I glad I woke him up.

Them being the Harley Quinn to your Joker: BTS



As it is widely known, Jin is an actual softie so going by this theory, I’ll take it that he’d be tailing you wherever you’d go and be the one to take care of you after any fights you had carried out. Don’t get me wrong, though- Jin definitely has his moments of pure evil. He’d kill a bitch if you didn’t like her.


This man was known to have terrible mood swings and so when the news of you two being together got out- nobody was actually that surprised since you were similar in that way; two madmen. What actually terrified them more was the fact that you had complete command over his actions.


J-Hope was known for being a completely psychotic man that was never caught- which made the audience even more terrified. How you two came to be together? The smile he had when you were beating some kid up in an abandoned street. He was fascinated by your brutality while you by his unnerving smile.

Rap Monster:

I feel like Joonie would low-key try to kill you so that he could become the villain, but at other times he would come to you for advice and you would be his pillar of support. In a sense, you two would have a love-hate relationship that nobody but you would understand.


I feel like JiMin would be daddy in the streets but baby in the sheets. Everyone would  see him as the notorious sidekick of a bloody murderer, a.k.a you. Full of charisma and having some real problems in his head. However, only you’d know that he’s actually just a submissive puppy for you.


You noticed it at a first glance at TaeHyung- he was practically invisible to the eyes of the others and so through some blackmail and threats you had managed to bring the manchild under your wing; teaching him the rules of the underworld and the secrets of your main enemies; training him to become your main source of info without realizing his growing attachment towards you.


He was just a lost child in a state of distress after witnessing the death of his parents; a tragic event. His mentality was stable no more and through a series of events this child has encountered you; a girl who had a sense of responsibility and by whom he got so fascinated that he could never leave her side anymore. She became the one to tie him down with her forever.

That was… Actually a very fucken interesting request. I enjoyed it very much but I think I did shit with it. I don’t really like it but I have no idea how to redo it. #Struggles


1x02 “Wendigo”

It’s only when you go back to the early seasons of Supernatural after watching the newer ones and you happen upon a moment like this one that it really hits you just how much you miss Dean smiling like this. A smile that’s reaching his eyes. A smile that’s playful and sincere. A smile that is most of all pre Hell, pre virtually everything except their mother’s death. Dean’s never had an easy life, has always carried the world on his shoulders, but despite having suffered and lost so much, back then there was this sort of music to his step, a sort of lightness that latest after he returned from Hell completely disappeared and that got buried even further down after he took on the Mark of Cain. If I have one wish for S12, it’s to see Dean smile like this again. Even if just for a flicker of a moment. Because man, as much as I loved Dean’s MoC arc, I miss this side of him. Though of course I know after everything he’s been through things will never be how they were. But I’m okay with that as long as we’ll see Dean smile like this just once. A smile reaching his eyes and making him forget the self-loathing for a moment, but allow himself to be cheerful - and with a little bit of luck maybe even: happy.

PLL Endgame

My dream theory is that Wren is Uber A and is Bethany’s older brother. I want Bethany to be the main motive of Uber A! I want the girls to actually have done something that led to her death. I want the N.A.T. club to be another huge piece to this endgame puzzle! I want a good storyline that makes us all flip out! I’d love to see more flashbacks from season 1. I’d love to see Jenna, Noel, Lucas, Jason, and Melissa confessing to some shit that all ties together in the end and makes the girls go “omfg it’s Wren” and I want it to be a dark type feeling to it! I want the girls to end up in radley or some crazy shit in the end and then see Wren like walking off from teasing the girls in radley and lay a flower on Bethany’s grave and say “Game over Bitches.” Like I need something that makes sense and ties everything together, but still is juicy af!

Originally posted by iansocrazy

I’m far to dependent on the internet. Even when I’m not using it and working on something that doesn’t need it I feel like I need to have access. So on days when my internet is acting up I always feel duller and less good

Cait: Sole originally pecked her on the lips, but Cait took it to a whole new level. She moved her hands up and down Sole’s body and then they picked her up and carried her to the bedroom so they could have a little more privacy ;)

Curie: Curie thought she was alone in her lab, but was quickly proven wrong when she turned around into a kiss. Sole pushed her hips against the table and moved up and down her neck. Curie giggled throughout the moment and then pushed Sole away insisting that she had work to do and that this would continue later.

Danse: He was strolling around the Prydwen when someone pushed him against the wall and kissed him passionately. Danse’s lover bit his lip and left him panting in the hall.

Deacon: He’s actually a little surprised, but turns it into a steamy make out session with ass grabbin’ and such.

Hancock: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) We all know where this went.

MacCready: Mac was laying on the ground ready to take out some raiders ftom afar. He was then interrupted by Sole flipping him over and pressing hard against his lips. Their little lovefest was then cut in half by bullets whizzing past their heads. Apparently they weren’t as quiet as they thought they were.

Magnolia: Sole thought she had delivered an amazing performance that night and decided to reward her with a kiss. They pinned her to the wall and pulled her close to them, leaving Maggie breathless.

Maxson: Sole wrapped their arms around his waist and snuggled into Maxson’s coat. When they released him, he actually giggled. 20 year old Arthur Maxson giggled.

Nick Valentine: After Sole pulls away from the kiss and turns their back on him, he tugs on his suspenders and tips his hat, “Still got it…”

Piper: Piper bites her lip and blushes, grabbing Sole’s coat and dragging them to her.

Preston: Preston smiles when Sole releases him and dips them down into another kiss while holding onto his hat.

X6-88: He just stands there. He was not prepared for that. He leaves his mouth open and just stares blankly ahead.

If you don’t think Nick wear suspenders you’re not believing hard enough

It just makes me so ridiculously happy that Bryan hasn’t let Hannibal go? Not even one bit??? Like he’s so busy with his other projects now, and I think he would be totally justified in feeling like he’s allowed to let go of his cancelled show and move on to, perhaps, bigger and more successful things. His career is doing beyond well. He doesn’t need another show on his plate with how in demand he is…

But there he is, carrying his little Hannibal with him to SDCC, because despite Hannibal not having a panel this year, Hannibal still is in his heart and on his mind. And he wants us to know he hasn’t let go, every step of the way. That he won’t let go until it’s finished. And that makes me very, very happy. :’)


to my little girl. your dad just asked if this was a love letter. i guess it kind of is. i never got to know my mother. i have no idea what she must have thought when she carried me. so, i thought i’d write to you, so you can know how happy i am at this very moment. how much your father and i can’t wait to meet you… and, i want to make you a promise, of three things that you will have that i never did: a safe home, someone to tell you that they love you every single day, and someone to fight for you, no matter what. in other words, a family. so, there you go, baby girl. the rest, we’re going to have to figure out together. i love you. your mom.


12x01 “Keep Calm & Carry On”
“Sorry. I just… I spent my life running from this. From hunting. And I got out. I never wanted this for you and Sam.”

I still have a lot of conflicting emotions about this moment between Dean and Mary. Of course one has to keep in mind everything that has happened in the past 24 hours of Mary’s return, the experiences both Mary and Dean had, the car accident, Mary killing Ms. Watts and feeling horrible about it - no one can expect any kind of arrival after all this, as it all is still so new.

I love that we get to see this moment and also see both of them sincere and opening up and struggling, but not trying to say something just to make it less hard or awkard, something like “I’m fine”. Because of course it isn’t and I’m glad that Mary is this honest with Dean here. It shows a great deal of trust though of course in the end her own son is still kind of stranger to her. But she confines in him. And though both show a great deal of understanding, it also seems clear that hunting will remain a tough topic, something to possibly even “stand between them” or at the very least disagree on for a while. Because Dean and Sam live the life that is a nightmare for Mary. And that is probably what makes this moment so difficult for both Dean and Mary here.

Plus, what kind of gets to me is how the dynamic is so reversed here. The way Dean squats down to be on eye level with his mom trying to comfort her and the way she seems to cave in a little has something very vulnerable and kind of captures in a way that Dean as Mary’s son actually is older than her now (and that’s leaving the 40 years of Hell completely out of the equation) and in a way I feel very conflicted about this moment as Dean feels like the “parent” in this dynamic and moment (though of course understandably as Mary must be even more shocked than Dean). But yeah… It’s difficult for me.

Keep reading

You know that moment after you finish a series or a movie or a TV show and theres this empty hole inside you, like in your chest but also in your stomach? And so you kind of lay around and relive everything you just read or watched and you have to come to terms with the fact that there is no more for you to watch pr read. So then you search the entire internet and reblog every fic, edit and art that is even slightly related to this thing trying to fill up this hole that is in your chest but also kind of in your stomach. But like it doesn’t help and so you just have to kind of wait for it to go away (which it never actually does). Has anyone else ever felt like that?

serrpentine  asked:

Once the car is parked, Axl comes to get Erin on the passenger side since he's had a bandana tied around her head and covering her eyes most of the way here so she would have no idea where he's taking her. "Okay, watch your step. And grab on to me since I'm gonna have to carry you a few feet." Guiding her arm where his neck his, smiling excitedly because the moment he's been waiting for is almost here. To see her reaction to his surprise. || decided we'll just do the vday thing here !!

Erin definitely hasn’t been trying to peek under her makeshift blindfold the whole time. Or maybe she has but Axl knows her well enough to know he has to get it pretty tight. Anxiously and excitedly waiting the entire drive, she’s asked if they’re there yet at least every three minutes. “This very much feels like I’m being driven to my death.” She comments, only joking of course because she wants answers. Her body peeking up the second she hears the car coming to a stop, eyes dart around in the dark as she tries figuring out where they are. Smiling at what she thinks is her boyfriend, she takes his advice and watches her step, wrapping an arm around his neck so that he can pick her up. “Where are we?! Can I take this thing off yet?” Pointing to her bandana and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Simon: “The Crucible must have made a mistake. My roommate’s a complete wanker.”

Baz: “…he wouldn’t give me a single moment of solance to sort through my feelings-or try to wank them away. (Which I eventually tried that summer. To no avail.)”

In Simon’s defence he wasn’t entirely wrong.

happy 21st birthday vikk!

I am so proud of you, you’ve come so far! you have done so many amazing things and I cannot wait to watch you carry on doing what you love. you work so hard and you really deserve the best.

the first time I watched you, I had no clue who the rest of the sidemen were! I just watched your minecraft videos and the rest of the pack. then I remember that day, the day I found out who the other guys were. and I found out you swear! that was an interesting moment for me… but I am so happy that I found out about you, because you make me happy and don’t even know it!

I just want to say thank you for always making me smile when I needed it the most. I always go to one of your channels if I’m feeling down and I’m instantly cheered up! you may not realise how much you’ve changed my life but you have so much. I would like to thank you for that and I hope one day I can meet you in person and finally let you know how much you mean to me.

thank you vikk, I love you. have an amazing birthday and I wish you the best❤️