is not even the same coat but

The signs as WTNV proverbs

Aries: “There’s a difference between your, you’re, and yarn. Yarn isn’t even pronounced the same way. It’s a completely different word.”

Taurus: “Knock, knock. Who’s there? Orange. Orange who? Orange you glad I didn’t say your mother’s in the hospital? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Listen, I’ll drive you over there. We’ll leave right now. Grab a coat, it’s a little cold out. I’m so sorry.”

Cancer: “You won’t sleep when you’re dead, either.”

Leo: “At your smallest components, you are indistinguishable from a forest fire.”

Virgo: “You can’t get blood from a turnip. Listen you need some blood? I can totally get you some blood. Set that turnip down and follow me to the blood. There’s a lot of blood.”

Sagittarius: “Ignore all the haters telling you that everything isn’t a sandwich. Everything is a sandwich.”

Aquarius: “Feeling lost? Like you have no goal in life? Like you’re covered in dirt and wet leaves? Like you’re an earthworm? Are you an earthworm? Kinda sounds like you’re an earthworm, actually.“

Capricorn: “Soccer is also commonly known as football, Canadian baseball, American football, violent jogging, and World War II.”

Gemini: “Everything that happens, happens for a reason. Except ostriches. What the hell, man?

Libra:  “Please keep all arms and legs inside the car at all times. Also, you are under arrest. Why is your car full of limbs? Whose are these?”

Pisces:  “Listen, I’m not a hero. The real heroes are the people that point out to us when protesters have smart phones, thus invalidating all concerns.”

Scorpio: “Thank you for your interest in a life free of pain. We are not accepting applications at this time. Please try again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again…”

2

Gather round, children. Auntie Jules has a degree in psychology with a specialization in social psychology, and she doesn’t get to use it much these days, so she’s going to spread some knowledge.

We love saying representation matters. And we love pointing to people who belong to social minorities being encouraged by positive representation as the reason why it matters. And I’m here to tell you that they are only a part of why it matters.

The bigger part is schema.

Now a schema is just a fancy term for your brain’s autocomplete function. Basically, you’ve seen a certain pattern enough times that your brain completes the equation even when you have incomplete information.

One of the ways we learned about this was professional chess players vs. people who had no experience with chess.

If you take a chess board and you set it up according to a pattern that is common in chess playing (I’m one of those people who knows jack shit about chess), and you show it to both groups of people, and then you knock all the pieces off the board, the pro chess players will be able to return it to its prior state almost perfectly with no trouble, because they looked at it and they said, “Oh, this is the fifth move of XYZ Strategy, so these pieces would be here.”

The people who don’t know about chess are like, “Uh, I think one of the horses was over here, and maybe there was a castle over there?”

BUT, if you just put the pieces randomly on the board before you showed it to them, then the amateurs were more likely to have a higher rate of accuracy in returning the pieces to the board, because the pros are SO entrenched in their knowledge of strategy patterns that it impairs their ability to see what is actually there if it doesn’t match a pattern they already know.

Now some of y’all are smart enough to see where this is going already but hang on because I’m never gonna get to be a college professor so let me get my lecture on for a second.

Let’s say for a second that every movie and TV show on television ever shows black men who dress in loose white T-shirts and baggy pants as carrying guns 90% of the time, and when they get mad, they pull that gun out and wave it in some poor white woman’s face. I mean, sounds fake, right? But go with it.

Now let’s say that you’re out walking around in real life, and you see a black man wearing a white T-shirt and loose-fitting jeans. 

And let’s say he reaches for something in his pocket.

And let’s say you can’t see what he’s reaching for. Maybe it’s his wallet. Maybe it’s his cell phone or car keys. Maybe it’s a bag of Skittles.

But on TV and movies, every single time a black man in comfortable, casual clothes reaches for something you can’t see, it turns out to be a gun.

So you see this.

And your brain screams “GUN!!!” before he even comes up with anything. And chances are even if you SEE the cell phone, your brain will still think “GUN!!!” until he does something like put it up to his ear. (Unless you see the pattern of non-threatening black men more often than you see the narrative of them as a threat, in which case, the pattern you see more often will more likely take precedence in this situation.)

Do you see what I’m saying?

I’m saying that your brain is Google’s autocomplete for forms, and that if you type something into it enough, that is going to be what the function suggests to you as soon as you even click anywhere near a box in a form.

And our brains functioning this way has been a GREAT advantage for us as a species, because it means we learn. It means that we don’t have to think about things all the way through all the time. It saves us time in deciding how to react to something because the cues are already coded into our subconscious and we don’t have to process them consciously before we decide how to act.

But it also gets us into trouble. Did you know that people are more likely to take someone seriously if they’re wearing a white coat, like the kind medical doctors wear, or if they’re carrying a clipboard? Seriously, just those two visual cues, and someone is already on their way to believing what you tell them unless you break the script entirely and tell them something that goes against an even more deeply ingrained schema.

So what I’m saying is, representation is important, visibility is important, because it will eventually change the dominant schemas. It takes consistency, and it takes time, but eventually, the dominant narrative will change the dominant schema in people’s minds.

It’s why when everyone was complaining that same-sex marriage being legal wouldn’t really change anything for LGB people who weren’t in relationships, some people kept yelling that it was going to make a huge difference, over time, because it would contribute to the visibility of a narrative in which our relationships were normalized, not stigmatized. It would contribute to changing people’s schemas, and that would go a long way toward changing what they see as acceptable, as normal, and as a foregone conclusion.

So in conclusion: Representation is hugely important, because it’s probably one of the single biggest ways to change people’s behavior, by changing their subconscious perception.

(It is also why a 24-hour news cycle with emphasis on deconstructing every. single. moment. of violent crimes is SUCH A TERRIBLE SOCIETAL INFLUENCE, but that is a rant for another post.)

Okay Kaiba, if you’re such an expert on fashion, let’s break down some of your outfits.

Outfit #1

A purple trench coat over a green dress shirt and green pants. Stylin color combination.

Outfit #2

A sleeveless white trench coat (is that even a thing? do they make sleeveless trench coats?) with red lining, a high collar, studs, and pointy shoulder pads. Worn over a black shirt, black pants made of what looks like–what, leather, rubber?

–with a pair of belts tied around each leg, matching belts around each arm, some kind of funky metal bracelets…

…and heels. Guess that explains why his height varies wildly from shot to shot.

Outfit #3

The Best-of-Both-Worlds Trench Coat: even purpler than Trench Coat 1, and with even pointier shoulder pads than Trench Coat 2. Worn over a black turtleneck, with the same bracelet/arm cuff/whatever thingies from outfit #2. 

This ensemble shows up a lot in scenes where he’s in his office doing day-to-day Kaiba Corp business.

Maybe he thinks the loafers make it business casual.

In conclusion: nice outifts, dork.

Choosing an Earth Religion That’s Right for You!

By Da’hou Ungherstahnk

If you are planning on visiting or moving to Earth, you may want to align yourself with a religion* to form a deeper bond with humans. While there are hundreds to choose from, here are some fast facts about the five most dominant religions on Earth.

There are many wacky quirks on Earth, but none are wackier than the concept of “religion.” Instead of distilling a code of ethics through Standard Galactic Protocol or the SovereignQUBE, humans take a more whimsical approach. They instead choose to worship vague ideas or deities as a way of framing the world around them.

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MBTI types as Night Vale proverbs

istj: “There’s a difference between your, you’re, and yarn. Yarn isn’t even pronounced the same way. It’s a completely different word.”

isfj: “Knock, knock. Who’s there? Orange. Orange who? Orange you glad I didn’t say your mother’s in the hospital? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Listen, I’ll drive you over there. We’ll leave right now. Grab a coat, it’s a little cold out. I’m so sorry.”

infj: “You won’t sleep when you’re dead, either.”

intj: “At your smallest components, you are indistinguishable from a forest fire.”

istp: “You can’t get blood from a turnip. Listen you need some blood? I can totally get you some blood. Set that turnip down and follow me to the blood. There’s a lot of blood.”

isfp: “Ignore all the haters telling you that everything isn’t a sandwich. Everything is a sandwich.”

infp: "Feeling lost? Like you have no goal in life? Like you’re covered in dirt and wet leaves? Like you’re an earthworm? Are you an earthworm? Kinda sounds like you’re an earthworm, actually.“

intp: "Soccer is also commonly known as football, Canadian baseball, American football, violent jogging, and World War II.”

estp: “You can lead a horse to water, and you can lead a horse into water, and you can swim around with the horse and have fun.”

esfp: “On this day in history: mundanity, and terror, and food, and love, and trees.”

enfp: “If you love something, set it free. If it starts flying around and chirping, it was probably a bird.”

entp: “Everything that happens, happens for a reason. Except ostriches. What the hell, man?”

estj:  “Please keep all arms and legs inside the car at all times. Also, you are under arrest. Why is your car full of limbs? Whose are these?”

esfj:  “Listen, I’m not a hero. The real heroes are the people that point out to us when protesters have smart phones, thus invalidating all concerns.”

enfj: “Thank you for your interest in a life free of pain. We are not accepting applications at this time. Please try again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again…”

entj: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single command from a satellite-activated mind control chip.”

Halftime Show*

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Chris and Reader have some naughty time together during the Super Bowl halftime show.
Words Count: 1.8k
Genre: NSFW/SMUT
Warnings: Swearing and unprotected sex. [Wrap your wang before you bang.]
Author’s Note: Might not be my greatest work since I wrote it in a hurry, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Congrats to the Pats, by the way.

Originally posted by chrisxchrisxchris

“C'mon, you can do better… don’t fuck this one up guys!” Chris yelled, clapping his hands as if he was the coach. “Don’t you dare doing this to us!”

Proud yelling, muttered cursing and stressed screaming everywhere around you in the VIP area of the stadium. The fans sitting, standing or jumping roared their stress out as your team was in a difficult time. The halftime was fast approaching and the Patriots struggled, facing the seemingly glorious Falcons.

“Don’t freak out. Relax, big boy,” you soothed, rubbing your boyfriend’s tensed back as he tapped his foot on the floor.

“How can we relax, Y/N?!” Scott, his brother told you and you rolled eyes, mentally noticing him he wasn’t helping at all.

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vernon; the boy next door (m)

genre/warnings: fluff/romance/smut, flangst, adorkableness, use of non-penetrative sex toys, (not so) dry humping

word count:  14737

feat: Hansol Vernon Chwe/Original Female, Joshua, Jeonghan + various 

prompts: roommate!Vernon, silliness, cuddles, mac n’cheese = love 

(a/n) my birthday project for my muse. thank you for everything vern:) and kisses for @vernkn​ who gifed my soft sweater vernon aesthetic. enjoy!

She loved Joshua Hong.

When she was so graciously offered to live in her aunt’s vacation penthouse close to her university of choice, the only catch was that she had to pay some of the bills. Completely fair, because it was a kind enough gesture to give away a freshly furnished space to a niece you barely talked to. Luckily, there was enough room for another guest, enough to split the rent.

So in comes the savior of her life, brother from another mother, Joshua Hong, decked out in sandy beige Sperry’s and ironed white jeans. Fresh from South California, he wore their sunshine on his smile, and their attitude in his Cheshire eyes. He was attending the same university as well, and was conveniently looking for a means to stay. Needless to say, she pounced on him at orientation before he could ask anyone else.

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Mr. Min - Chapter 05

Description:  Your CEO caught your attention the first day you started your new job and it seems the attraction is mutual.  Too bad he’s only interested in a relationship that benefits him.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: Angst and Smut

Word Count: 23,243

A/N: Eternal thanks to my number one cheerleader and motivator, @avveh, for constantly rooting for me even when I felt like banging my head on the keyboard.  Not to mention for beta reading this monster.  For anyone who can’t read this on the tumblr app I suggest checking out the AO3 link or opening it on a browser/computer.

PrologueCh 01 - Ch 02 - Ch 03 - Ch 04 - Ch 06

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361-FROZBUN [Frozen-Bunny]
-Ice
-The Cold pokemon
-Ability: Snow Cloak - Fur Coat(HA)
-Dex: “To protect themselves from the cold weather, their fur has grown extremely thick, making them round and fluffy. This pokemon will use its long ears to interact with others, often with hugs and nose-kisses.”
-Moveset:
    -Powder Snow
    -Haze
    -Cotton Guard
    -Ice Ball

–>Evolves with max. friendship<–

362-ALASKALOPE [Alaska-Jackalope]
-Ice
-The Invernal Pokemon
-Ability:  Snow Cloak - Fur Coat(HA)
-Dex: “To keep their body temperature stable, even during the coldest nights, this pokemon meditates completely still for hours . Sometimes many will gather in the same place and form a circle, often holding each other with their ears as they meditate together and share their warmth.”
-Moveset:
    -Ice Beam
    -Freeze-Dry
    -Mist
    -Hail

–>Evolves with an icestone<–

478-SPECTUNDRA [Spectre-Tundra]
-Ice/Ghost
-The Mystical Pokemon
-Ability: Slush Rush - Stormwalker*(HA)
-Dex: “This lonely pokemon, through intense meditation, has been able to reach a near-death state, making it able to endure even the most cruel blizzards. This pokemon ears are a symbol of its long-seeked wisdom, and they will continue to grow longer for as long as this pokemon lives.”
-Moveset:
-Sig. Move: Bone-Chiller “A chilling wind is blown through the opponent, this may leave the foe frozen. If this move is used during a hailstorm, the chances of freezing the opponent rise from 30% to 50%”
   Type: Ice
   PP: 10 (max 16)
   Power: 85
   Accuracy: 90%
    -Blizzard
    -Ominous Wind
    -Aurora Veil

*This pokemon sp. attack receives a boost during a hailstorm.

Destruction Of A Muse (M) [Final]

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

[Part 1] - [Part 2] - [Part 3] - [Part 4]

Words: 8.418

The harsh slap of your phone dropping to your thigh was what pulled you back into the present, your stomach churning and clenching, your ribs feeling as though they were closing in on your lungs, caging them and preventing any air from getting in. You could hear the barely-there muffle of Tae’s voice, screaming at you to answer him, and it took all the willpower you had to pick up the phone once more and bring it to your ear, hand trembling.

“Y/N, please fucking answer me, I’m losing my fucking mind!” He wailed, his deep voice pitched and terrified.

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12.19 coda

holy fuck that hurt

It’s amazing, really. Castiel has blown him off, lied to him, stolen from him, and broken his god damn heart too many times to count today. But when Dagon raises her hand at him for what Dean thinks must be the last time, it’s still the worst he’s felt all week.

“No!” he screams, before all the breath is punched out of him at once. A golden glow takes over Castiel’s eyes, one that he hasn’t seen before.

He forgets to flinch when Castiel offers to fix his arm. He exposes the most vulnerable parts of himself, again, he never learns, and allows Castiel’s hand on him. His fingers hesitate over the folds of his sleeve, pressing more insistently when Dean doesn’t move away. He hates that he’s being cautious. No, he’s grateful for it. No, he - 

The familiar cold pulse of grace taking root steals his breath away.

“Are you ok?” he asks. Fragile and weak, like it always is with them.

The golden glow has left, but Castiel is still different somehow. He doesn’t slouch; he holds himself with all the confidence of someone that thinks themselves blameless. He’s seen that look at least once before, back when Castiel still liked to lie and go behind their backs for ultimately selfless reasons.

And he still asks Dean to trust him.

He would. He’s spent his day tracking phones and fixing trucks. It might hurt like a bitch, but this is all he has.

“Don’t,” he begs. A plea, a prayer.

Castiel drops his fingers to Dean’s head, and he doesn’t hesitate at all.

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Bus Stop

[V/Jihyun Kim X Reader]


Every day he saw her waiting there at the bench. Sometimes she would be standing. Her sun dress flowing in the wind, as if the lace or fabric had been lighter than air, catching even the smallest breeze. Her hair dancing about her face. His eye sight was poor, but he could see her tangled hair dancing. He could smell the perfume of her shampoo carried in the wind as he approached her. Other times she would be huddled together on the bench as she sat. Her knees clenched closely as she held her heavy coat to her frame in the cold wind.

It was the same as when he first met her. The droplets of rain fell hard, each splash on the pavement demanded your hearing. V could hardly believe someone had been caught so off guard by the storm. Her hands went from wiping her ever-dampening hair to her arms, to her soaked cloth clinging to her frame. He remembered thinking how beautiful and natural she looked. How helpless. How, in that moment, he saw someone in need of his help, even if his sight was less than superb. Her bangs and hair clung to her face and she smiled to him. The smile that he had grown to look forward to for weeks to come.

“Please, share my umbrella?” he asked of her as he held it above her shivering frame.

It was the first thing he ever said to her. The first words ever spoken between them as they stood there at the bus stop. Her careful nod and slight smile pierced through him in that instant. Her gratitude. Had he ever been so thankful for his eyesight before?

In his mind he could remember every detail of her. Her face. Her makeup and the way the strands of hair clung messily to her face from the rain like thin vines on a beautiful sculpture. The sound of the droplets on the umbrella and the feel of wetness as the bottoms of his jeans began to soak water and creep up his shins. It didn’t matter, as long as she was dry and comfortable.

“Thank you,” she spoke in soft syllables through the heavy rain.

Her voice had been like a symphony to the backdrop of the rain pattering. Her smile the beams of sunlight in the clouds of rain. It was a gift to see her before him.

When the bus approached and she nodded in gratitude before entering, he felt a heaviness in his chest. Such grace and beauty lost to him now because he hadn’t the courage, nor the strength, to ask her for any more than she had already bestowed upon him. Only a  warm smile and a slight giggle from her as he sheltered her from the rain.

The next day it was drizzling lightly as he approached the bench. His sight limited to the bus. And…as if a sign from above, he saw her looking back to him with that same sweet smile. It would insight the tightness in his chest once more. She recognized him? Even with his blurry vision he could never mistake her for another.

“Hello, V!” she would smile and exclaim every time.

Always the same cheerful greeting. It always elicited his heart to work overtime in his chest. He wanted to know more about her. Wanted her to know more about him.

“Call me Jihyun, remember,” he laughed and smiled.

“Oh! Of course, I’m so sorry,” she would laugh and cover her face in embarrassment.

He loved that about her. And without another thought his umbrella would be covering her and sheltering her from the spring rain.

“You don’t take the same route as I do, yet you’re always here at the same time,” she says casually, “why do you take the bus? Your clothes….ah! I’m sorry, is that rude?”

The way she gets flustered turns his cheeks red. He didn’t think he was dressed so richly? Maybe only compared to Jumin…

“It’s not rude,” he chuckled, “my eye sight…” he let his voice trail off.

“I know,” she replied.

Delicate fingertips pressed against his cheeks and shocked him more than he had anticipated. The feeling of her warm fingertips on his skin made his heart leap and his body feel warmth in the growing cold.

“Is that why you…ride public transport?” she had asked.

“Mostly, yes,” he found himself admitting.

It is true. He can still see alright, enough to get around daily life. But he can not drive. Public transport is his means of traveling. He doesn’t wish to be like his friend Jumin, spending money on personal drivers and cars. Figures from afar appear as blurs, but not her.

Perhaps it was the way she smelled. Or sounded.

He could hear her rustling and know it was her. Her delicate hands moving through her bag to find her chapstick. Or her sunglasses. Or phone. He could tell her apart from anyone else in the world. it would start off as if she had forgotten the thing completely. Frantic and manic were her hands in the pockets and crevices of her bag. Eventually, the all-too-familiar sigh would escape her when she found what she was looking for. Maybe others could not pick it up, but he could. He heard and watched her pop the cap from her chapstick in the summer and rub it against her full lips. She wasn’t aware of how bad his sight had been. But she was more aware than most.

Most good days, when he met her at the bench, they would talk about themselves. If she was carrying bags, she would explain what she purchased for him. Even if it was trivial, he found himself enthralled in her explanations.

“Shoes for the beach. You know my old ones always gave me trouble,” she laughed and he agreed since he had known as well, “and this new dress. I don’t know how well it will look. Maybe for a lunch with friends…”

She held the dress up to herself and he felt almost bad for imagining her in it. Perhaps on a moonlit night. She would be waiting as he approached from a street corner. She would be smiling, only for him, in that dress. He’d buy her dinner and wine. They would share her favorite dessert and she would tell him all about her day. He would listen intently. He cared. For a moment he had to remind himself of where he was.

“It’s a beautiful dress for you,” he remarked.

“Why, thank you,” she replied and stuffed the items back in her bag with red cheeks.

One day she was showing him what she had purchased, when she noticed how aloof he seemed, though he was trying his hardest not to show it.

“Your eyesight,” she spoke softly, “it’s getting worse…isn’t it…”

Why was he choking back his words? Was it the slight drizzling rain clouding his eyes, or his own tears as he held his umbrella over what he hoped was her frame. If he could do anything in this world, it was to keep her from being cold…and wet. Somehow, she knew. Just by the way he had acted, for he hadn’t said a word about how he was doing.

He felt a soft hand on his own free one. It was hers. Without thinking twice he smiled and let her lead him. He could even hear her smile in her voice.

“Sunglasses…not that I’ll be needing them anytime soon, don’t you agree? I feel like a fool for believing the weatherman,” she laughed and held her forehead against his own as she did so, while still guiding his hand around her bag.

Was she not put off by his ailment? It was one of the first times he could say he hadn’t felt like an outsider. Someone who needed to be asked to be accepted. She had grabbed his hand…

She had grabbed his hand…and from then on, she continued to do so.

Some days, he didn’t need it. Some days, the sun shone bright and still would be out-shined by her radiance. Her smile and aura as he approached the bench would radiate his core. Whether she was heading to work, meeting friends or shopping, she looked beautiful and full of hope to him. She filled him with her warmth even on the coldest of days.

It wasn’t since Rika that he had felt this way about another human being. And even thinking about her inner beauty, could he say he even felt this way about Rika? No. This person who had accepted him as who he was, even with his sight as it happened to be. This person who asked nothing from him other than conversation as they waited for the bus to take them to their destinations.

When he had fallen in love with her, who could say? But he was sure she felt the same way. Her subtle touches to his hands and arm when they met. The way she leaned in close to explain things to him.

“It is cold…but I do appreciate the rain,” she said one day to him after he had placed his jacket over her. “It gives life to the flowers around us, the plants…Life would cease to exist without the rain. I think we should appreciate it. Don’t you agree?” she asked him.

Of course he did. His hands held her shoulders tightly as he explained so. How badly he wanted to ask her to dinner in that moment. Maybe just to a cup of coffee. To ask her everything about herself. Did she garden? What was her favorite film? Did she enjoy music?

He could sense a lot about her just in the time they spent together. She was selfless. She only went shopping when it meant it was needed. If it was for meeting friends, or perhaps something she didn’t have before. He liked that about her. She was observant.

“The bus has been a little late…fourth time this week…I hope the driver isn’t feeling ill,” she had mentioned one day.

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she smiled and put her hand on his forearm playfully, “ I really am worried!”

“Only you would be worried about the driver when your ride is late…I just…find it charming,” he admitted to her.

When he was late, or struggling to make it to the bench, he found her at his side, helping carry his things and hold him steady.

One particularly rainy day, her bus arrived on schedule. It was the familiar slosh of the flowing gutters as it pulled close to the curb for her. The all-too-familar squeak of the door hinges as it swung opened for her. But she did not move. She did not enter. Her hand lay wrapped on his forearm, which held his umbrella sturdy to protect her the best he could from the elements.

“I’m not going in today,” she spoke coyly as the door shut and the sound of the bus driving down the road faded once again in the distance.

He couldn’t hold back his smile much longer. Her touch soothed him. Her delicate hands he had grown to fall in love with. And the sweetness in her voice like warm honey coating his soul.

“We can’t waste the day,” he found himself replying, “how about I take you to lunch…and then maybe dinner?”

“Nothing could make me happier, Jihyun,” she pulled her body in close to his as she spoke.

He could feel her steps in sync with his own. This wasn’t the first time he had taken her out. Not even the twentieth time…her feet and hands, her voice, her steps and the pitter patter they made next to his own feet…the way she walked was all too familiar.

Yes…this day was like many others he had come to share with her. And yet…he felt in his pocket, that hardness in the shape of a box. The velvet case with a ring inside.

It may have come to be a familiar day for them. But today, he would ask her to be his wife.

anonymous asked:

pleaseee could you write drabble, Emma saying to Killian "I didn't know you could sing"

unrelated to the upcoming musical ep, but here ya go. sorry it’s rather messy. drabble became ficlet.

~1.3k

Emma has never really lived with a guy before. Well, she supposes that she and Neal did kind of live together in the Bug all those years ago, but this is different.

This is sharing a home.

And with that comes a few adjustments. Neither of them have ever owned very many possessions aside from their full wardrobes, but now they have this big house and it’s being slowly but surely filled with… things. Stuff. Books and trinkets on their shelves, an array of colorful toiletries and pretty things in their bathrooms, an admittedly overly stocked cabinet of alcohol, blankets and pillows meant not just for function but also for decoration.

She’s a bit disorganized and messy. Killian is kind of a neat freak after having run his own ship for so long.

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Dean’s Flannel

Originally posted by demondetoxmanual

Summary: Flannel is a standard in the hunting world but it slowly becomes something more for Dean and the reader…

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,300ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: Written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing ‘s Favorite Things Challenge. My prompt was “Flannel”…


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Do Kyungsoo//Denouement

Originally posted by smileysoo

Summary: The world is black and white to everyone. At least, until they reach 18, and realise who their soulmate is or meet them for the first time - and then colour will burst into their life, one shade at a time. You’ve been desperate to graduate high school and move away, but you can’t run from fate. - ft. big brother Yixing 
Scenario: Soulmate!au 
Word Count: 5,977

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Beautiful

Summary: Sam shows Dean how beautiful he is.

Warning: This one got away from me. Smut, dirty talk, use of the Samulet as a cock ring, a little bit of come play (I guess)?

Word Count: 2700

A/N: Um. I got kinky. I’m not sorry. XOXO


Dean’s wearing only a towel around his waist when he gets out of the bathroom.

Sam watches the steam billow out from behind him when he opens the door, water droplets trickling down his arms and chest, making him look like some wondrous, mythical sex god.

Of course, Sam’s always thought that about Dean.

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Fragility {Part 2/3}

Originally posted by fairybcby

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader, Slight Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Photographer Yoongi AU, angst, smut

Warnings: Minor character death

“You didn’t need to completely rip yourself apart just so that Yoongi could be whole. That’s not how friendship works…That’s not how love works.”

Part 1 | Part 3


Time had passed both slowly and quickly. Nothing had changed and yet everything had changed.

In reality, things were how they always had been. Your friendship with Yoongi continued like normal and he still had no clue that Hoseok had confided in you about Yoongi’s past that night.

You would meet up and go for drinks or spend days out together just walking around town and every time you would discover new parts that you hadn’t previously known existed. He had this strange ability of being able to whisk you away from your everyday life and he helped you to see the beauty in even the most mundane of things. There really wasn’t anyone like him.

He would always bring his camera and your eyes had quickly grown adjusted to the intense white flash that would often pour out from it.

On the surface, everything seemed perfect.

However, in your mid a perpetual hurricane raged on. You tried to calm it, you tried to gather your emotions and keep yourself stable but it was to no avail. You had hoped whatever it was you thought you felt towards Yoongi would quickly fade away. You’d longed for it to be nothing more than a short lived infatuation.  Yet, if anything, your feelings had only amplified. Every time you saw him smile it was as if another piece of you fell in love with him.

Everyday you would remind tell yourself that just being able to stand by his side was enough.You were well aware of how lucky you were. So on a rainy Tuesday as you walked through town after a night of helplessly watching various girls try to hit on Yoongi, you tried to convince yourself that everything was fine. He had turned them all down of course, he was as highly selective as ever. That didn’t stop the terrible feeling of jealously that consumed you every time he paid even a little bit of attention to one of them, the toxic emotion would thick and heavy through your veins, weighing your body down.

Small droplets of rain landed on your face and slowly slid down your skin. You could feel your hair and clothing becoming damp and uncomfortable, the cotton fabric was clinging to your body unpleasantly making you feel constricted. If Yoongi was here he would have scolded you for being so careless as to go outside with no umbrella despite knowing how bad the weather forecast was.

You veered off down one of the smaller side streets, the canopy of branches and leaves above now somewhat sheltering you from the weather that continued to rage of violently. Pulling your coat a little tighter around your body you broke out into a slow run. You didn’t even need to look where you were going, your legs would take you there automatically, as if it was an instinct hardwired into your DNA. By this point perhaps it was.

Yoongi’s house always looked the same, narrow, two storeys built in orange brick, with ugly black guttering running down the sides and across the top that stuck out like a sore thumb. The windows seemed to be perpetually dirty even though he insisted that he did clean them once a month.

The place was cheap and unrefined, but it was more like home to you than even your parent’s house was.

The door was unlocked so without knocking you swung it open and immediately stepped into the comforting warmth of his hallway. Some camera equipment and lighting lay in black bags on the grubby linoleum floor along with a large pile of shoes, all belonging to Yoongi of course.

“Yoongi, you here?” you called out after a few moments of silence, if he was in you couldn’t hear any signs of him lurking around somewhere.

You pulled your shoes off and dumped them in one of the corners of the room before hugging your arms to your chest, your body was still shaking from the bitter coldness of outside.

“I’m up here,” he finally replied, voice echoing down the stairs.

He sounded tired. There was a certain way he talked when he’d had a sleepless night, his words would be slower and voice rougher and it was irritatingly sexy.

You ascended up the stairs and barged your way into the bedroom.

The curtains were drawn so that any natural light was completely blocked out, but you knew better than to insist on opening them, he’d always hiss and complain when you tried. He sat hunched over his laptop furiously typing, fingers practically moving at the speed of light and he was so absorbed in what he was doing you don’t think he’d even heard you enter.

His hair hung down over his eyes and you could tell that he hadn’t brushed it in awhile, purple circles hung underneath his eyes and his lips looked chewed up and cracked. Yet you were so far gone that even in this state, you thought he looked absolutely beautiful.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch me like a creep all day?” he asked with a smirk, finally looking up from his laptop screen, “Also don’t expect me to sympathise with you because you’re cold and wet, you’re the one that was too stupid to remember to take an umbrella with you today.”

“Shut up.”

He moved over a little to make room as you sat down on the bed, you curiously peered at his laptop screen to see that he appeared to be writing some sort of essay. The word count was on 4,035.

“Did the genius Min Yoongi really leave an essay ‘til the last minute?” you asked playfully and without even looking away from the laptop he moved his hand and lightly hit you on your upper arm. You giggled before slumping down a little to get more comfortable. The pattering of his fingertips against the keys was oddly relaxing, he typed so fluidly, with no hesitation, as if he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

You remained quiet, just enjoying the feeling of him being next to you. That was something you treasured about the relationship you’d built with him, you were so comfortable around each other that you didn’t feel the need to talk all the time. 

When the sound of the typing finally ceased he snapped shut his laptop and turned to finally look at you properly. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said pointedly. You looked up from your phone and saw that the expression plastered across his face was one of seriousness, so immediately, you put it away in your pocket and sat up.

“What’s up?”

From the way he fidgeted and gripped the sheets in his large fists, you could tell he was a little anxious. This in turn roused feelings of nervousness within you, if Yoongi wanted to say something he would usually say it with no hesitation, with hardly any hints of emotion.

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foxpaws10  asked:

Hey, for an andreil prompt, how about the boys making each other blush ?? :) xx

thanks!! this is from a high school au i’ve been thinking about recently, since i kept changing my mind about what i wanted to write. enjoy! xx


Neil tossed his textbook onto the coffee table with a heavy thud. “Fuck this. I’ll take the F as long as I don’t have to think about thermodynamics ever again.”

“That will not work out so well for you when you are forced to repeat Grade 12 Physics,” Andrew said, not looking up from the cocoon from which he was currently typing out an English essay. Neil knew it wasn’t due for another week, but Andrew seemed unusually intent on it: he had agreed immediately when Neil had suggested a study sleepover and he hadn’t looked away from his laptop once in the past hour.

Neil would have to try harder.

“I’m going to get ice cream, do you want any?” he asked, getting up and dusting off his jeans.

Andrew’s eyes flickered up to Neil’s, cold with disdain.

“Right, stupid question,” Neil said. “Rocky Road?”

Andrew narrowed his eyes, nodded once, and then went back to his essay as if Neil wasn’t even there.

Neil figured that was as good as he was going to get, and went to pick up his coat from the pile of outerwear near the door.

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anonymous asked:

Is the following the hottest thing Jamie's ever said during sex and if not, what is? "'Look.' His breath came hot in my ear. 'Look down. Watch while I take ye. Watch, damn you!' His hand pressed my neck, bending my head forward to look down in the dimness, past the folds of sheltering fabric to the naked fact of my possession. I arched my back and then collapsed, biting the shoulder of his coat to make no noise. His mouth was on my neck, and fastened tight as he shuddered against me."

Let me share my personal favorite, from the very end of Book 1:

 "Even better,“ his voice was a hot murmur in my ear, “when I come to ye fierce and wanting, and ye whimper under me, and struggle as though you wanted to get away, and I know it’s only that you’re struggling to come closer, and I’m fighting the same fight.”  

      His hands were exploring, gently, slowly as tickling a trout, sliding deep into the rift of my buttocks, gliding lower, groping, caressing the stretched and yearning point of our joining. I quivered and the breath went from me in an unwilled gasp.  

      “Or when I come to you needing, and ye take me into you with a sigh and that quiet hum like a hive of bees in the sun, and ye carry me wi’ you into peace with a little moaning sound.”  

      “Jamie,” I said hoarsely, my voice echoing off the water. “Jamie, please.”  

      “Not yet, mo duinne.” His hands came hard around my waist, settling and slowing me, pressing me down until I did groan.  

      “Not yet. We’ve time. And I mean to hear ye groan like that again. And to moan and sob, even though you dinna wish to, for ye canna help it. I mean to make you sigh as though your heart would break, and scream with the wanting, and at last to cry out in my arms, and I shall know that I’ve served ye well.”