mic holder

(( I caved and did that “Draw the squad” meme thing, except this time with the eight children who fell. ))

(( To be honest, Rufus would’ve been a better candidate for Henry’s spot since Henry’s too nice to rub victory in anyone’s face, but I made him the mic holder instead because there’s nothing in the world that Rufus loves more than to tease Bobby-John. ))

I’m way up, I feel blessed

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the wonderful amellthirst!! make sure you all stop by and send her some love because she’s awesome and deserves it. as a gift I wrote this one shot that’s got lots of Tommy feels as well as Merwest/daddy!tommy with a smidge of Olicity/Queen family. it’s not actually related to mfwlmlyd but it could possibly be considered as a future fic for that universe. jo, I love you and I hope you like it <3

also, here are some gifs that inspired this whole thing, as well as the little girl who we’ve dubbed as the Merwest baby


The champagne shower was everything that Tommy Merlyn had imagined and more. Even if he was drenched and the liquid was burning his eyes and his jersey was now yanked open and hanging loosely from his shoulders; he wouldn’t have had it any other way. After grueling months of game after game, overcoming injuries and defying the odds, Tommy was now a World Series Champion, along with the rest of the Starling City Rockets.

“Merlyn! Merlyn! Hey, Tommy!”

Tommy looked up through the crowd of players and staff filling the locker room, eyes searching for the voice calling out to him until he saw his agent pushing through the group of pitchers who were dousing each other with champagne.

“Come on, the reporters are waiting for you in the press room.”

Keep reading

25 Days of Outlander: Day 11, Favourite Sex Scene

So Jamie and Claire, like, do it right. The nettles, the stable, the cow barn, the heather, the hayloft (I’m sensing a rural theme … ), the river, every single inn in which they’ve ever shared a bed, the almost-staircase, the private garden, the croft, the captain’s desk, the hot springs … there are just so many options.

I’m going to pick one show sexy times, and one book sexy times … mainly because choosing one from the show means I get to use this gif:

Because sweet cracker sandwich. That is HAWT.

I LOVE the buildup to the first time Claire and Jamie, er, carnalize one another. It is, by far, the sexiest moment of the tv series for me – the award-worthy heavy breathing, the dazed, unfocused eyes, the lusty imbalance, that belt buckle – I mean, we even hear the moment Jamie touches Claire’s bare skin for the first time. WE HEAR IT.

Bravo writers, cast, director, crew, camera operators, boom mic holders, set designers, sound editors, any and all delicate fabrics manufacturers involved in this production, the guy who gets the coffee, whoever kept refilling the flask of whisky in that top dresser drawer, the lightbulbs

BRA–freaking-VO. I mean it. And thank you.

*obligatory moment of silence for this glorious example of audio-visual perfection*


My favourite booksecks has to be on Fraser’s Ridge, wherein we learn that Jamie has no problem walking around nekkid in the middle of the night, he has very impressive upper body strength (as well as a great sense of smell), Claire has excellence balance, and that neither of them seem to mind the risk of a little exhibitionism.

From The Fiery Cross, Chapter 107

He lifted my arm a bit, touched the damp silky hair there, and ran his fingers under his nose. “Eau de femme,” he murmured, and I heard the laughter in his voice. “Ma petite fleur.”

“And I bathed, too,” I said ruefully.

“Aye, with the sunflower soap,” he said, a slight tone of surprise in his voice as he sniffed at the hollow of my collarbone. I gave a small, high-pitched yelp, and he reached up to lay a large, warm hand across my mouth. He smelt of gunpowder, hay, and manure, but I couldn’t say so, what with him muffling me.

He straightened a little, and leaned close, so the roughness of his whiskers brushed my cheek. His hand fell away, and I felt the softness of his lips against my temple, the butterfly touch of his tongue on my skin.

“And salt,” he said, very softly, his breath warm on my face. “There is salt on your face, and your lashes are wet. D’ye weep, Sassenach?”

“No,” I said, though I had a sudden, irrational urge to do just that. “No, I sweat. I was … hot.”

I wasn’t any longer; my skin was cool; cold where the night-draft from the window chilled my backside.

“Ah, but here … mm.” He was on his knees now, one arm about my waist to hold me still, his nose buried in the hollow between my br**sts. “Oh,” he said, and his voice had changed again.

I didn’t normally wear perfume, but I had a special oil, sent from the Indies, made with orange flowers, jasmine, vanilla beans, and cinnamon. I had only a tiny vial, and wore a small dab infrequently—for occasions that I thought might perhaps be special.

“Ye wanted me,” he said ruefully. “And I fell asleep without even touching you. I’m sorry, Sassenach. Ye should have said.”

“You were tired.” His hand had left my mouth; I stroked his hair, smoothing the long dark strands behind his ear. He laughed, and I felt the warmth of his breath on my bare stomach.

“Ye could raise me from the dead for that, Sassenach, and I wouldna mind it.”

He stood up then, facing me, and even in the dim light I could see that no such desperate measures on my part would be required.

“It’s hot,” I said. “I’m sweating.”

“Ye think I’m not?”

His hands closed on my waist and he lifted me suddenly, setting me down on the broad windowsill. I gasped at contact with the cool wood, reflexively grasping the window frame on either side.

“What on earth are you doing?”

He didn’t bother answering; it was an entirely rhetorical question, in any case.

“Eau de femme,” he murmured, his soft hair brushing across my thighs as he knelt. The floorboards creaked under his weight. “Parfum d’amor, mm?”

The cool breeze lifted my hair, drew it tickling across my back like the lightest of lover’s touches. Jamie’s hands were firm on the curve of my hips; I was in no danger of falling, and yet I felt the dizzy drop behind me, the clear and endless night, with its star-strewn empty sky into which I might fall and go on falling, a tiny speck, blazing hotter and hotter with the friction of my passage, bursting finally into the incandescence of a shooting … star.

“Ssh,” Jamie murmured, far off. He was standing now, his hands on my waist, and the moaning noise might have been the wind, or me. His fingers brushed my lips. They might have been matches, striking flames against my skin. Heat danced over me, belly and breast, neck and face, burning in front, cool behind, like St. Lawrence on his gridiron.

I wrapped my legs around him, one heel settled in the cleft of his buttocks, the solid strength of his hips between my legs my only anchor.

“Let go,” he said in my ear. “I’ll hold you.” I did let go, and leaned back on the air, safe in his hands

Mark McEwen Talks About Aaliyah

Q: What was your initial impression meeting Aaliyah?

MM: Well, I must say I was at first I was captivated by how beautiful she was. My son and daughter always listed to her and I saw her on a couple of videos and thought she was a very talented.  When I got to interview her I saw that she wasn’t just a pretty face, but she had a beautiful spirit also.

Q: People always say that she had a beautiful soul, I guess you are confirming that?

MM: Yes. In fact when my team arrived at the recording location, she was in the middle of getting her hair and makeup done. She stopped what she was doing and took the time out to say hello and introduce herself to my all of my team [even greeted the boom mic holder]. Class act!

Q: What most impressed you about Aaliyah?

MM: I was impressed by how poised she was at such a young age. Even though she was 21, she had the composure of a veteran that had been in this business for decades. She was a very well put together young lady. Her parents did a great job!

Q: What was one thing you took away after the interview?

MM: After the interview we must have talked for 30 minutes. Aaliyah had the ability made you feel as if you had know her your whole life. She was a very open person.  

Q: What is last memory of Aaliyah that you have?

MM: I think she personified the motto, “if you work hard you can achieve what you want.” She was so young with so many accomplishments. That was a young lady many women could learn from. I guess that’s why her legacy lives on.