it is the sappiest shit ever

anonymous asked:

Any valentines headcanons for Victor and Yuuri? Like how they spend it together or if some fan sent anything crazy in the past (Yuuri sending Victor things every year but being too embarrassed to write his name as the sender??)

“Wait, someone actually sent you their used panties?” Yuuri has no idea what kind of a face he’s making, but he hopes it does the sheer disgust he’s feeling justice, because what is wrong with people?

Victor laughs. “On more than one occasion. Most of the time Yakov just sent them to the incinerator.” 

“’Most of the time’?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered,” Victor says, horrifyingly, then brightens. “I didn’t get to keep any of the chocolates people gave me—for safety reasons, you know—but the plushies were mine to do whatever with. I usually gave them away to sick kids.”

He remembers. It was SKATING’s December 2003 issue cover story. Victor had been in a white doctor’s jacket smiling wide while the two children he had tucked under each arm flashed peace signs. Stuffed animals were strewn across the floor around them like fallen soldiers. He’d taped it into his cubby at Ice Palace until Takeshi joked that they should beat Yuuri up so Victor would come visit him in the hospital. Yuuri seriously considered it. 

“I can’t believe you kept some of this stuff,” Yuuri marvels, holding up an actual wedding invitation. You are cordially invited to the marriage of Victor Nikiforov and Joanne Spiers…

Yuuri gently places it back into the box. Well, chucks it back in, more like.

“Oh! Let me show you my favorite one!” Victor nudges him out of the way to rummage around, eventually coming up with a little blue envelope with a sticker that’s faded with time and oddly shaped. Yuuri squints at it, trying to place it, when it hits him. He goes very, very still.

“I think I was… maybe 16 when I got this one? It was the sweetest letter I’d ever received.” Victor sighs wistfully and cradles the envelope to his chest as though it were precious, spun glass and lace, before handing it over.

If Yuuri’s hands shake a little as he undoes the katsudon sticker on the backflap and slides the piece of notebook paper out, Victor doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he notches his chin onto Yuuri’s shoulder to read it along with him.

It’s a little yellow, but the faded images of sakura still comes through behind shaky, painstaking Cyrillic penned to fill the page.  

Dear Victor,

You are the greatest skater in the whole wide world. I am a skater too but I am only 12 years old and I am still learning. I did a triple axel for the first time yesterday! I hope you are proud. Someday I would like to hold your hand and skate with you. We could do a triple axel together. Please wait for me. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

“I wanted to write back, but they didn’t leave a name or a return address,” Victor says softly, reaching around Yuuri to brush reverent fingers over the page. “Even with the terrible translation, it was the most genuine expression of love I’d ever seen at that time. I brought that letter with me everywhere I went, hoping I might catch a glimpse of that kid in the crowd, or even on the ice. Whoever it was, I hope they continued to skate. I really would’ve liked to have skated with them.”

The boxy letters swim and blur, spreading out until they’re vague blobs, and when Yuuri blinks to clear it, the page is wet. “It wasn’t terrible.”


Turning in Victor’s arms, Yuuri beams up at him through his tears. “The translation. It wasn’t terrible. Vasiliev-sensei at Ice Palace wrote it out for me and I spent hours practice-copying it to make sure it was perfect.”

He can see the moment realization dawns, because Victor’s furrowed brow ripples and smoothes out, jaw dropping almost into Yuuri’s lap. “You—”

The world tilts dangerously and skews when he’s tackled onto his back, and Yuuri laughs up at the ceiling as Victor presses frantic kisses to his mouth, his neck, the swells of his cheeks and the sides of his nose. He shakes with a giddy sort of joy, drowning under a wave of relief nearly fifteen years in the making, and reaches up to palm Victor’s face—a little older, a little more mature, but still the greatest skater in the whole wide world who was everything to a little boy once. Even more now as a man. 

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Yuuri murmurs, then leans up and meets Victor halfway.

Super Sappy Lines Prompt List

Because sometimes you just want to write the sappiest shit you can handle.

  1. “I’m in love with you.”
  2. “Please don’t leave me.”
  3. “It’s always been you.”
  4. “Shut up and kiss me.”
  5. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
  6. “I can’t wait any longer.”
  7. “Can I kiss you?”
  8. “Can I touch you?”
  9.  “I missed you so much.”
  10. “Stay with me forever.”
  11. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
  12. “I want you. Only you.”
  13. “The way I feel when I’m with you…”
  14. “I’ll always love you.”
  15. “Please marry me.”
  16. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
  17. “Because I love you!”
  18. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
  19. “I can’t stay away from you.”
  20. “I’ve been waiting all my life for you.”
  21. “I’m better when I’m with you.”
  22. “You make me so happy.”

PS if you write anything from this list, will you tag with #sappyprompts so I can see it? <3

i just wanna be the sappiest shit on earth and say that just,, this fandom is absolute hell 90% of the time but these kinds of moments, the one in which we get new info or consume the new content for the first time ever, it just a unified moment of pure excitement and blissful chaos and just. it really reminds me of the first month i spent on this blog and just why i felt so in love with this show in the first place.

iwa-chan-hajime  asked:

headcanon that sometimes, out of the blue, otabek says the sappiest, most romantic things ever, shit like "I fall in love with you more every day," and yuri.exe stops working and doesn't know how to deal

GOD,,, YES,,,, he and yuri would just be lounging around yuri’s hotel room without talking and he suddenly just “i don’t know how i’d live without you, yura” and yuri just chokes on air like wtf beka he wasnt prepared for this cheesy shit

cute domestic shidge things
  • pidge lying in bed and she hasn’t really bothered with hygiene and her hair’s a floofy mess and she’s wearing one of shiro’s boxers with a ratty alien t-shirt that used to be matt’s and she’s eating hot pockets or nachos or smth that leaves crumbs everywhere and when shiro lies down beside her the only thing he can say is ‘you’re beautiful’ 
  • shiro’s the little spoon. don’t fight me on this. 
  • shiro’s the one in charge in the kitchen (coz pidge burnt water once how) and he even has a variety of those statement aprons that say things from ‘kiss the cook’ to ‘i think you’re grate’ his favorite is the one that says ‘#1 space dad’ that he got from everyone on Christmas
  • after the shitstorm with the galra is finally over and they’re back on earth and katie moves in shiro’s apartment before they decide to get a little house not too far from the garrison (i hc them getting together during the defending the universe gig) 
  • pidge is the one who insists on fixing anything that malfunctions in the house. lightbulb needs changing? got that covered. leaky faucet? got you babe. tree broke through the roof during a nasty storm? welp time to for me to make a trip to home depot. 
  • they haven’t really dropped the nicknames they had with the team (pidge and shiro) but eventually they warm up to katie and takashi on a more regular basis (shiro has always called her katie but her calling him takashi took a little more time getting used to) and the occasional babe, honey and even sweetie/sweetheart coz they’re the sappiest little shits ever awww 
  • there’s a room in their house reserved exclusively for katie and her many many projects and shiro was in charge of vacuuming 
  • feel free to add more! 

doesn’t even have to be domestic just add more headcanons we need more love in this little corner of the fandom. 

happy holidays everyone!  

anonymous asked:

He would not let go of her hand.

Her fingers laced through his, his other hand wrapped around the holster at his waist: he can admit to being a little scared.

The darkness is oppressive and at times all too giving – a moving shadow, a dot of murky light revealing a mysterious puddle on the floor. The walls undulate and come at them and retreat again, or so it appears that way. He can’t say for certain there are any walls. Like being trapped in your girlfriend’s closet or in your own coffin, he fills his lungs with air and refuses to let any out in fear of crowding the room. Another step and everything seems endless, as if they’d be crossing this floor forever, and his chest expands, his unblinking stare goes hard. He’d been to the end of the world, and it was nothing like this.

And when the laughter starts, he wants to laugh too. It brays out from nothingness like paint pouring on to a blank canvass. It is like the wind, it’s steely, motorlike, rust on rust and then it’s nails on a chalkboard, the laughter of a newborn child, of your mother when you confide in her your dreams. He shudders and pulls her closer, because she is the only thing that is solid and warm and real. But when they take another step it feels like she’s too far away again. He tugs her back. They take another step. He tugs her back.

When it happens he thinks for a moment his heart may fail, or at least crawl out of his mouth and plop on the floor. All the cells in his body die and come back to life. He goes to shield her, but where is she…

“Boo!” Scully chuckles again, wiggling the beam of her flashlight in her face. Behind her he spies a door and above her is the ceiling.

“Scully,” he says incredulously, willing his organs to retreat back to their cavities. “I am armed! What were you thinking?”

“We’re in a fake haunted house,” Scully says, rolling her eyes. She reaches behind her to open the door and warm light spills into the room as they spill back on the street. The owners wave at them merrily, covered in fake blood and bits of hay. One of them gives Scully a questioning thumbs up and she returns it with a little smile.

“I was a little on edge,” he admits, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning away from her. He doesn’t respond to her when she asks something, but he doesn’t pull away when she forces her arm under the one locked tight to his body.

“Oh come on Mulder, you try to scare me all the time!” She raises her voice, trying to pull his arm out so they can walk more comfortably. After a few gentle tugs he relents, and they walk down the bustling cobblestone path linked arm in arm.

“And may I remind you,” she adds around barely stifled laughter. “You do it when our lives are actually in danger.”

“You have a cute scream,” is all he says. Dead and dying leaves crunch under their shoes, and the chilly air whips their faces red and chubby. She burrows a little closer to him.

“So do you,” she replies. He stops to brush a leaf out of her hair and beg with his eyes to go find food. “It’s not girly at all.”


I lied. This is the sappiest shit I’ve ever written. Based off a few haunted houses I’ve been to in St. Augustine

happiest of happy birthdays to my most favorite person!!! even after all my years of hopping around fandoms and connecting to a variety faves at various points in my life, there is no other person on earth i have loved as much. im so proud of everything jo has accomplished in his career, of the adversity he has overcome, and of the insanely well developed player he has proven himself to be. hockey and jo have in reality not been in my life for a long time, but i cannot being to explain the lasting positive effects both have brought. i am so stupidly proud of him and every day i wish i could thank him for being a safe, happy place that i can always come back to. he inspires me to be a better version of myself, to work harder and be confident in the skills and abilities i have and i love him immensely. he means more to me than i can even put into words and every day i am grateful that i found him. i feel so lucky to have experienced his kindness and sweetness in person and i hope he knows how much his small gestures mean to me.

from the bottom of my silly, lovesick heart, happy birthday jo.  i will always always, no matter the team or the year or anything at all, be on his side, cheering him on.

let’s talk about eva and isak becoming friends again in s4 because i’m just going to assume that this is going to happen.

  • it takes a little bit of nudging, but their friend groups are becoming so integrated anyway that they find themselves at the same parties, teasing each other, making eye contact over beers whenever vilde and magnus are particularly gross. from there, it’s easy to remember why they were friends in the first place.
  • they begin talking over video chat again. isak has forgotten how easy it was to talk to eva. sometimes it baffles isak why she’s still his friend. but as he sends her memes at one in the morning, it doesn’t seem to matter.
  • if he’s trying to be a Good Boyfriend, he’ll go to eva first because the bros can’t keep their mouths shut around even - all even has to do is smile and they’ll spill (especially magnus). isak totally goes to eva to ask what an acceptable valentine’s day gift is. after eva finishes laughing at them for being that couple (isak points out that she and jonas were equally gross, and making fun of him is just unfair), she gives him the idea to make a short movie about them, which is the sappiest shit ever, but what even does to isak when he sees it is enough to make up for it ;)
  • no ken dolls were hurt in the making of that movie, though isak’s wallet definitely took a hit because vilde insisted on buying every possible outfit combination for the barbie doll that’s supposed to be her, even though it has like….two lines about kosegruppa.
  • isak hates having friends.
  • eva still has issues with her mom, and isak’s still learning how to talk to his without expecting her to hate him, without waiting for the other shoe to drop. isak encourages eva to reach out to her mom, even if it feels like unnecessary drama. “just don’t expect anything,” he tells her, and maybe that’s fatalistic, but her mom won’t sacrifice work for her. eva starts texting her mom more, just telling her about her day, and it’s a start.
  • eva has so much trouble focusing when she’s doing her homework. it’s totally pointless - how do teachers expect for them to experience life while learning spanish conjugations? she ends up binge-watching netflix and watching youtube videos more often than not. isak, for all his typical teenage grumpiness, is actually amazing at concentrating when he needs to because he has so much going on in his life, and 30% of the time, he can even say no when even wants to come over. isak ends up recommending her all these apps to close down websites that distract her, giving her tips for cramming for exams, and generally being the responsible friend he’s pretty ashamed to be.
  • yep i’m gonna bring bi eva into this, because it’s canon if i say it is lmao. anyway eva and p-chris aren’t super serious - he’s more of a friend than anything. eventually, they start hooking up with other people at parties again, and eva keeps on hooking up with girls?? it used to be a fun thing to do when boys egged her on, but she finds herself just wanting to kiss girls, for herself.
  • she goes to isak first, asking, “i like to make out with girls at parties does that mean anything??” and isak is like “i made out with girls at parties, and now i’m gay, so….”
  • anyway, he’s just a great person to talk to about this stuff and encourages her to figure it out at her own pace. he did, and it worked out pretty okay.
  • even if isak and eva don’t show up too much in s4, can we please have signs of their friendship in the background?? @ skam i’m begging you
Glannithro shit

Glannithro but instead of them being the angry couple, they’re the sappiest couple ever.
Glanni only does it for show while ithro does it genuinely. He loves Glanni more than anything and would die for him. While Glanni is the same way, he’s more sublte with showing it
At home the two are quiet, but just enjoy being in silence around each other. Their lives are already hectic.
A LOT of people think they’re faking it when they first meet the two, as they’re absolute polar opposites. But once they realize that the two have more in common than one would think, they quickly realize how wrong they are.

me: ugh, i hate sappy shit

jaal: *says the sappiest shit anyone has ever spewed out of their fucking mouth ever*

me: oh my god.., please, never stop that ever

james sirius potter

right here, right now, i’d like to propose a new james. i like the james who’s a copy of his grandfather, who’s hilarious and doesn’t give a shit as much as anybody, but i’ve been doing some thinking and came up with this: 

- a james who pauses from teasing albus just long enough to say “cool it, al, you’ll be a gryffindor, you’re a potter after all” which makes albus feel infinitely better than he did before 
- and when albus is pronounced a slytherin, james gapes for a couple seconds, and then cheers his heart out for his younger brother
- when he sees albus waiting to try out for the quidditch team, he laughs and says “don’t even bother, gryffindor will kick your ass”
- (but he shows up to all of albus’s games anyway)
- ((when albus plays hufflepuff or ravenclaw he’ll draw green and silver stripes under his eyes))
- lily’s eager to start hogwarts but she’s nervous as well
- (especially about the whole train part)
- albus is busy who knows where so james grumbles and grumbles about being seen with his ‘annoying baby sister’ and he’s fifteen, he ‘doesn’t have any more time for this’
- but he sits her down regardless and doesn’t let her leave his sight
- (“but you didn’t want me to sit with you before!” “whatever you might get lost”)
- she’s a bit nervous about the houses though, so before they separate, james tells her, “look lils, even if you’re a slytherin, there’s no way you can be as much of a disappointment as albus is,” and albus hits him, but lily giggles and is put to rest
- ((his throat is sore the next morning from all the screaming he did when she got sorted))
- when albus hesitantly tells james about him and scorpius dating, james takes it surprisingly well
- especially when he meets scorpius. he’s not terribly mean, he reassures them a bit, and just when they’re feeling comfortable
- he asks “so which one of you two tops?”
- james never treats any girl disrespectfully and he treats alice like the sun rises and sets on her shoulders
- (((but he still squirts whipped cream on her face when they bake together)))
- ((((he makes sure to kiss it off too))))
- and when he catches hugo and lysander holding hands under the table he only winks at them
- later, he goes to hugo’s room and ruffles his hair, and tells him that “with the amount of queer kids in this family, no one will blink different at you, kid”
- he’s best friends with fred and domi too, don’t forget that that’s important guys
- making trouble is like their favorite thing
- but sometimes (like that time fred was one detention away from expulsion) ((please)) james takes the fall for him
- and when dom’s boyfriend cheats on her (what a piece of crap who would ever cheat on domi she’s the most amazing girl in the universe) james is right there with fred and louis and teddy ready to hex is balls off
- but he’s also in her room at 1 in the morning with a bowl of Florean’s ice cream and a shoulder for her to cry on
- he’s teddy’s and fred’s best man too and he roasts the shit out of them
- ((and also gives the sappiest speech that leaves everyone in tears))
- like please
- just imagine a james who can be as oblivious, goofy and devil-may-care as can be
- but who can look up every once in awhile and just be there for his family who’s crying i’m not

anonymous asked:

The trashiest part of me wants Elise's birthday message about Natasha to be the sappiest fucking shit ever. Or at least a cute selfie of them we've never seen before that breaks the Internet the way Natasha's "Happy birthday monkey 🌚🌝" did last year. We'll probably get neither, lol

We’ll see d:

That’s the thing though, you never get over a band like this. It’s a tired comparison to The Beatles, but it works. My mom still gets hyped when one of the remaining Beatles does something, she still has all of their records, all those pictures and articles she cut out of magazines are still with her neatly packed away in a folder and stored with other important documents. It’s been almost 50 years. Something this great doesn’t end, it simply changes form. It’s passed on and shared growing greater over time. It becomes a part of history. It’s already history. It’s a journey that began with 5 boys on the stairs becoming 4 men conquering the world. It’s not over and it will never be over.

Out of absolutely fuckin’ nowhere, I got this entire idea for a multi-chapter fic and it’s the sappiest, most sugar-shock inducing thing anyone has ever read and literally nobody wants to read this bullshit and why does my brain do this but my brain is already putting together a playlist for it and I’m going to be done working at least for a while in a few weeks and just. WHY BRAIN WHY.

quedalle  asked:

POV - Jeans perspective of their date night in EOF!! You know what scene I'm talking about 😏

Ohh thank you so much! =DD (I tried to write the scene I think you’re talking about, but it wouldn’t come out =OO I ended up writing the sappiest shit ever lmfao)

Jean had been preparing since he first asked Marco out. He’d tried to clean, but in Eren and Delmar’s speedy exit, they’d made even more of a mess than before. And he’d followed the recipe for the food step for step but still wasn’t sure if it actually tasted any good (despite practicing and practicing, he was admittedly kind of sick of ramen). The wine, the movies he’d planned on showing, the attempt at atmospheric lighting before Eren whined about the smell.

But still, when Marco looked at his tattoo, the thick black lines fanning out across his tanned skin, the way he smiled as if looking at the photograph of a loved one…

Jean hadn’t been prepared for this.

“It’s a rune,” he whispered, looking up, his eyes meeting Jean’s. “A viking rune, part of their language. It means protection.”

Jean felt his mouth go dry as he looked into Marco’s eyes. He’d never paid attention before–or so he’d thought–but looking this close, he could see they weren’t black but a deep, deep brown. The freckles that scattered across his cheeks were dark and small like pinpricks, only a few making big splotches on the apples of his cheeks. Jean felt himself swallow.

Marco moved his hand towards him, and Jean almost choked on his own breath. He hoped it didn’t show as he gently took Marco’s hand into his lap. He’d seen the tattoo in passing every morning, as Marco handed him his morning coffee and sandwich. He’d always wanted somewhere in the back of his head to feel it, see if it was as thick on his skin as it seemed.

He found that Marco’s skin was soft here, that his skin felt warm. Jean couldn’t think of what to say other than that it was cool. He could hear Marco’s breathe a sigh of relief as he smiled and said, “I have more.”

“Show me.”

Marco’s hands were soft. Jean couldn’t see his tattoos, but though he knew better, he swore–swore–he could feel them. Felt them warm against the tips of his fingers, felt them bristle under his touch. “Strength,” the back of Marco’s neck, warmest and soft with the hair growing there, almost curly but not quiet long enough. “Joy,” the corner of his collarbone, where he could feel his heartbeat and the heat of his blush traveling up his neck and to his cheeks. “Wisdom,” where his back sloped, and the hardness of the spine was nonexistent, only soft and warm, warm, warm.

Jean tried to believe it was the wine making him feel heady. But he wanted to drown in this feeling. He looked up at Marco’s shy smile and felt the urge to kiss him. And kiss him, and kiss him, until he was smiling like that against his lips, and that rune, that joy on his collarbone was practically glowing with happiness, like some kind of magic.

“I can draw you one,” he whispered, biting his lip, and Jean couldn’t pull his gaze away from how his lips looked soft between his teeth.

When he said he had a sharpie, when Marco said go get it, Jean took the moment searching desperately on his cluttered desk to breathe deeply.

He shouldn’t feel this enamored. It was a first date. He braced himself on the desk, unable to stop himself from grinning. He remembered that morning he first took notice of Marco over the register, remembered looking up after their fingers brushed handing him cash. The way Marco looked tired, but still ever smiling. The way his lashes were so long and pretty, his cheeks so round, and those dimples when he looked up and said cheerfully, “All right, that’ll be right out. Have a good day, Jean.”

He’s just attractive, he’d told himself for days afterward. He’s just nice to you, he’d assured himself weeks afterward. He’s just an angel, he’d promised himself for months afterward.

He couldn’t stop begging himself to give it up when he woke up longing to talk to him a week before. He’d never dreamed Marco would say yes.

As he walked back out, sharpie in hand and heart in his throat, he prayed Marco would say yes if he asked for a second date.

anonymous asked:

Do something about Louis seeing Harry's another man photos for the first time

Alright, in honour of that launch party tonight, let’s see where this goes.

Louis is present at most photoshoots Harry does. He can’t help himself - he always has to be there, has to see how Harry is doing, has to be there to be proud of the man that he has been allowed to call his for almost six years now. It’s one of the privileges of dating one of the most wanted men in the world: 100 percent of the time, Louis is allowed to see him dart around in various stages of undress professionally as well as at home.

With the Another Man shoot, however, Harry was adamant on it being a surprise, on doing this one thing on his own, save for the article that he made Gemma write. 

It’s another one of those moments that Louis wishes they were actually out and free to do what they wanted, that he could be the one to write about who Harry really is. Not that he’s nearly as eloquent as Gemma is in her writing. Or that he’s known Harry all his life (even though it does feel like that sometimes). 

He has Harry for the rest of his life, though. And at least they’re getting there. Slowly, sure, but the finish line is getting closer and closer each day.

Not that it matters. Nothing does, not when Harry is standing in front of him, swinging back and forth on the tip of his toes with a mischievous look twinkling in his eyes.

“H,” Louis says impatiently, reaching out for the magazine he’s holding in his hands. Harry steps aside calmly, causing Louis to grab for nothing but a handful of air. “Love, c’mon. Show me already, won’t you?”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Harry says, raising an eyebrow smugly. 

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