more coming this weekend

anonymous asked:

Can I request a Jooheon and I.M. reaction to their gf listening to rock / metal bands? Love your blog!!

 Firstly, I want to apologize for the slow updates– I’m taking care of my schoolwork and my spring break is coming up this weekend and so I’ll be more active then. Now, let’s get on with the show!

Originally posted by changkkung

Jooheon - “Jooheon, I’ll be back in a bit.” You said as you left your earphones and phone near his computer. The two of you were hanging around in the dorm with the other members and you left to go to the bathroom. “What is she listening to?” Jooheon murmured as he picked up your earphones since he could hear them from a few inches away. As he began listening to the music, you walked outside, straightening up your shirt and seeing him bob to the beat of the song. “Do you like it?” You asked. “I like the rhythm of it! It’s dynamic which I like. Is there more?” Jooheon started looking through your playlist with a cheeky smile.

Originally posted by monxbebe

I.M - “How come you never let me listen to your music?” “I thought you wouldn’t like it.” You playfully crossed your arms as he took one of your earbuds and placed it in his ear. You watched him in amusement as he began playing air guitar with his hands and shaking his head back and forth with the beat. “It’s Breaking Benjamin.” You told him. He looked up and smiled, giving a small dance. “The lyrics are meaningful, like you, Jagiya.” “Don’t be so cheesy, Changkyun-oppa.” “Arasseo.” I.M chuckled and started playing the air guitar once again… Sigh… “I want to listen to more!!” I.M shouted.

Admin Mochi


Yall asked.

I provided.

I mean come on, we hunt monsters. What the hell? I mean, normal people, they see a monster and they run, but not us. No, no, no we-we search out things that want to kill us, yeah, huh, or eat us. You know who does that? Crazy people.


Really quick Batman comic I call “Days after Release of Pokemon Go:Gotham City crime rate at all time low”


EB: umm…yes?

TG: you werent

EB:  i was! …kind of!

EB: you were saying how that guy was not going to make it to the end of the movie..or something.

TG: …

TG: close

TG: i also said that he could probably pull off a mullet

EB: psshh, i doubt it.

TG: i mean

TG: nic cage did it

TG: to your standards at least

if the fates allow

on the longest night of the year, some cozy holiday fic

(p.s. ONE MORE DAY OF SCHOOL, I am for sure more excited than the students)

through the years we all will be together
if the fates allow
until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow

December 23rd, 1993

“Got any big plans for Christmas?” he asks as Scully starts to pack up. It’s just about closing time. Mulder doesn’t like being between cases - there’s nothing good about going home at five o’clock.

Scully continues loading files into her briefcase. She can’t seriously be planning to tackle all of that shit over the holiday - she’s only taken off Friday and Monday.

Of course, that’s two more days than he’s taking off. Possibly four more, if he comes in over the weekend. Mulder spent last Christmas in his basement office. He’d snapped a branch off an evergreen tree in front of the Bureau and given the finger to the security camera. His office smelled good for days.

“My parents are coming over,” she says, and there’s this little twinge of anxiety in her voice that reassures him, somehow. He’s always imagined the Scullys as a perfect television family: the captain and his wife and their four red-headed children running around the lawn. It’s nice to think that even her family is nerve-wracking. “And my brother and his wife are flying in. Usually my parents host it, but they weren’t up to it this year, so…”


She glances at him and sighs. “It’ll be nice,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself. “I just have to do a lot of cleaning before they get here.”

While he hasn’t spent all that much time at Scully’s apartment, this assertion seems wildly unlikely. Her books are alphabetized. He’s sure her underwear drawer is color-coded. Do not think about her underwear drawer, he reminds himself. That’s definitely one of the Ten Commandments of Platonic Partnerships.

She asks, “How about you?”

He aims for nonchalance, but doesn’t quite get there. “Drinking expired eggnog. Watching ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind.’ The usual.”

“By yourself?”

The surprise in her voice touches him. He’d assumed it was obvious.

“Yeah, the Mulders don’t really go in for big family gatherings.”

“Well, you could come over to my place.” She’s not looking at him when she says it, so he’s not sure how seriously to take the invitation.

“Nah. The fish would miss me. Thanks, though.”

Finally she stops moving paper around and looks at him. “Seriously, Mulder. You shouldn’t have to be alone on Christmas. My family is…well, I’m sure they’d be glad to meet you.”

This, too, strikes him as highly unlikely, but he keeps his mouth shut. “I appreciate the offer. Enjoy your holiday.” He pats her on the shoulder as he leaves, but her gaze follows him out.

Keep reading

Every city has such pockets of beauty, stunning little gems that make you pause and stare for a moment. It doesn’t matter what you believe in, seeing hundreds of floating candles on still waters reflecting the sky, is worth a pause and a sliver of awe.
First round of #NorthPoleNinjas readings and signings done, more to come this weekend. If you have not yet ordered, check out or We need more kindness and this is a fun place to start.

honestly? more Whizzer and Marvin daily life, post-baseball game, pre-more racquetball. more Whizzer and Marvin when Jason comes over on the weekends, where they can pretend that everything is normal.

  • Whizzer sidles up beside Jason at the dining room table. Jason is doing homework – it’s math, which Whizzer never understood, he was always a child of the arts. 
    • still, Whizzer asks – do you want any help? even though he knows he wouldn’t be able to give it. Jason says he doesn’t need any. 
    • he really is his father’s son, Whizzer thinks at 6 pm on a Sunday, the hazy orange glow coating the kitchen and creating a backlight that streams through Jason’s hair. Marvin would be able to help him with the math if he needed it. Jason would never ask, though. a stalemate.
  • Whizzer makes the dinner. he cooks with Jason hunched over a school book and Marvin sitting beside him. 
    • Marvin is drinking wine, the kind of cheap red wine that tinges his lips and makes him sloppy in the best way, so he smiles more than he’s used to. 
    • Whizzer takes sips, occasionally, from Marvin’s glass. this is normalcy for them.
    • Marvin dances around the kitchen, getting into Whizzer’s space, trying to make Jason smile. sometimes he does, and Marvin will drink to his victory.
  • Marvin takes Jason to baseball practices, and Jason always comes back with dust on his pants and a tired expression on his face. his baseball cap is askew, and Marvin looks as tired as he does.
    • but every time Whizzer asks him how practice was, Jason's face lights up as though something has clicked. he says – today we did batting. he says – today we scrimmaged, and I was center field. he says – today we did slides, and gestures to his dirty pants.
    • Whizzer knows Jason’s awful at baseball, and so does Jason. they both don’t have the heart to tell each other.
    • sometimes, Whizzer thinks how incredible it was that a game brought them together. he ruffles Jason’s hair, tells him that that’s great, kid, and doesn’t choose to think about hypotheticals, ifs, and whens. 
  • Marvin detests Trina for making him be the one who drags Jason into Hebrew school. every time Jason looks like he’s preparing himself for the worst. he feels like he is.
    • (Whizzer always has to tell him to have fun, even if they both know he won’t. Whizzer blames this situation on Trina, too, even if he’s too sweet to admit it.)
  • Trina and Mendel – together, of course – will pick up Jason at the end of the weekend. there’s always a fight to be had, Whizzer supposes, and he joins Jason on the couch as Mendel attempts to placate his wife and Whizzer’s… something.
    • (partner? lover? the words seem foreign in his mouth. he knows he wasn’t meant for the domesticity of this.)
    • Jason doesn’t like the yelling. eventually, he’ll tell them to shut up, and he’ll grab Trina by the arm and drag her out. things are bad but they always smooth out by the next week, because that’s how it always is.
  • later, on Sunday night, after Jason’s back at Trina’s, Marvin will fall asleep while reading a book. Whizzer reaches over him and turns out the light.
  • this is the best that they’ll get, here. it might not be what Whizzer dreamed of, because it’s outside of the bounds of his imagination – perhaps it’s better than that.
drabble: splinters

“The young master is very particular about his things,” Mitsuya-san tells her on her first day. “He doesn’t appreciate it when they are handled unnecessarily, and he knows when they are out of place. If you have done your job correctly, he will never know you were here.”

Reika hangs on every word. The opportunity to work for the Kuzuryuu family directly is, like she told Mitsuya-san in her interview, an honor and a privilege; she was only transferred up from the kitchens to replace the last maid, who was let go after she was found taking jewelry from Miss Natsumi’s bedroom

(That’s the term the other girls use— “let go”— but all Reika really knows is that one day Fujita-san was there in the house with them, like normal, and the next day she was gone.)

She’s assigned to the young master’s room first. Mitsuya-san tells her it’s because the young master is neater than his sister, and so his room is less of a challenge for someone unused to serving the direct needs of the family. But the other girls crowd her futon that night with conspiratorial whispers. “It’s a test,” Inoue-san tells her, while the others nod along, “to see if you can survive him.”

Reika doesn’t want to tempt their theories. She doesn’t know the young master, but she knows the reach (and the consequences) of his temper.

On her fourth day, Reika tips the young master’s bookcase too far forward to get at a spot of dust behind it. The entire top shelf dumps out onto the floor: books and packets of candy and, most importantly, the young master’s delicate wooden model of a Sengoku-era warship.

She can only be grateful that the entire figure doesn’t shatter; instead, only the thin oars and masts snap off from the impact. She’s on her knees trying to find all the pieces when the shōji slides open, and suddenly the young master’s tool is looming over her, eyes piercing and expression cold.

Reika has only ever seen her from far away, the young master’s calm and deadly shadow. Seeing her this close, backlit from the sun outside, makes fear rattle up from her gut into her chest.

She can’t help the sudden rush of tears. Pekoyama-san could slit her throat right here and now and not one single person in the entire compound would bat an eye. She would be like Fujita-san, a derided afterthought, or worse, Pekoyama-san could wipe her out with a single press of her thumb, and it would be like she never even existed.

Pekoyama-san doesn’t do any of those things.

She kneels next to her instead, and gently takes the pieces from her hands. She sets the broken ship aside and starts on the books, carefully sorting and replacing them on the shelf. Reika didn’t think the young master had any organization to his books. Apparently he does, and apparently Pekoyama-san knows it by heart.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Reika asks her eventually, through her own snot and tears.

“Of what?” Pekoyama-san asks in return. A third of the way down the shelf, she tilts the tops of two books together and slips a packet of karinto into the gap between them.

“The young master,” Reika whispers. “What he’ll say when he sees. What he’ll do.”

She’s never seen Pekoyama-san smile before. She’s never met anyone who has. But Pekoyama-san smiles now, her mouth turned softly up at the edges. “No.” She reaches out to clasp Reika’s shoulder, and her grip is gentle. “You should go. Mitsuya-san will be wondering where you are.”

The little model is still broken when Reika comes back for her fifth day. It’s still broken on her sixth, and her tenth, and her twentieth.

She never hears a word about it.

anonymous asked:

Could you write a McKirk “We live in adjacent apartments and one day I accidentally knocked a hole in the wall and into your living room I’m really sorry oh my god you’re naked” AU from captanjamestkirk's AU post pretty please? Bonus points if the naked person was engaged in a rather <i>personal</i> activity if you know what I mean (wink)(wink) Honestly I just want to read McKirk in a slightly awkward, cracky situation which may escalate to some hotness. Thank you and love your work!

  • Jim loves his neighbor. Handsome, grumpy doctor McCoy. Who has an adorable daughter who comes over every other weekend. Jim speaks to her more than he does to Leonard, though. Not for a lack of trying, but whenever Jim tries to start a conversation, Leonard’s usually busy. Probably real busy, not always a lame excuse to get away. They’ve had an occasional beer together, but they’re not much more than neighbors and acquaintances who tell each other hello when they see each other out on the streets or in grocery stores.
  • Jim gets really drunk with Scotty on Saturday, and he stumbles home. The game is on TV quietly, but instead of watching Jim is mostly texting Scotty and Uhura. For some stupid fucking reason, way past midnight, he decides his house is due renovation. An open kitchen, because the wall dividing the kitchen from his living room has been bothering him for some time. He bought the place a few years back, though never really did much construction on it. A few walls can really use some reconstruction. 
  • He stumbles down in the basement of his apartment, and there he finds a sledgehammer. Perfect. He can just knock out the wall, and eventually start on constructing his kitchen. Tomorrow, post hangover. First, that wall’s gotta go.  The wall in his apartment is actually weak enough that he smashes a big hole into it in just one go. And then when he leans against that broken wall, he falls straight through. 
  • Turns out, it’s not the wall to his kitchen he’s broken down, but the wall straight into the adjacent apartment. He sits up straight, a little confused and disoriented. “What. The. Fuck?!” Leonard calls out. When Jim looks up, he’s in Leonard’s bedroom. And Leonard’s not alone. “Leonard-” “JIM,” Leonard shouts at him. Jim watches in interest when Leonard’s partner - a guy - gets up and rushes to grab his clothes. He’s out in no time. “Look what you did,” Leonard says, reaching out for the covers to cover himself up. Jim scrambles to his feet. “Look, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to break open my kitchen,” Jim says. “Well, you fucking missed!” "I’ll pay for the repair costs,“ Jim says. “You better,” Leonard replies. Jim watches with interest as the other one keeps the sheets pulled up high. “Sorry ‘bout your date.” “Wasn’t exactly a date. Now shut up, leave, and cover up that hole in the wall!“ 
  • Jim falls asleep on his couch instead of his bed. The couch faces the wall, and waking up is a bitter reminder of his own stupidity. Though, maybe it’s not all bad; he pries his eyes open just in time to watch a very nude Leonard pass by that hole in the wall. Holy shit. When the other passes by again, he’s dressed (which, real shame), and he catches his glance. “Hey,” Jim says, “I’m really sorry about last night.” “Just fix the damn hole in the wall,” Leonard says. Then, after a few seconds of silence, the doctor adds: “D'you want breakfast? I made scrambled egg.” Jim gets up immediately, and steps through that wall.
  • So rather than getting that hole fixed, Jim uses it to visit Bones all the time. Sure, he gets a construction worker to look at the costs, make it look all official, but really, he hasn’t exactly signed that contract when Leonard still invites him over for drinks, dinner, and even occasionally comes over to watch TV with Jim. “How am I ever gonna bring people home again when there’s a giant man-sized hole in my bedroom, connecting me to my stupid neighbor?” Leonard complains, openly to Jim, too, and Jim huffs. “Excuse me,” Jim says, looking insulted, “I’m a great neighbor.” “You ruined my chance to have sex,” Leonard says, and Jim chuckles. “You haven’t asked me,” he replies. Leonard hesitates, frowning at Jim like he’s trying to figure that out. “… What?” “I mean, I would sleep with you,” Jim says casually, shrugging a little. He looks at Jim, reaching out to grab the other man’s shirt; pulling him in closer. “Okay,” Leonard says. “Okay?” Jim asks. “Yeah,” Leonard says, “let’s do it.”  
  • They agree on casual, but Jim knows from the get go that this is gonna be more than casual. Just the way that Jim stays the night from day one they decide to sleep together means it’s more than just casual. Leonard makes him breakfast, too, and it’s something Jim grows so used to that even on nights when they’re not together, he just climbs through that hole in the wall and either joins Leonard in bed until the other gets up, or just walks to his kitchen to find food there.
  • Leonard is stupidly romantic, too. Jim comes home from work and throws his stuff on the couch, but he’s surprised by a pleasant scent. And when he investigates, Leonard’s reading a book on his bed, just quietly reading a book while there’s candles. On his nightstand. “What’s this?” Jim asks, raising an eyebrow. “It smells nice,” Leonard replies, “clean sheets, scented candles, you should try it sometimes.” “You’re the type who lights candles when taking a bath, too?” Jim mocks him with a grin, but Leonard just looks up with a smile. “Absolutely,” he says. Jim sits down next to him, pushing his book away and instead demanding that attention from him. “C’m here,” he says, cupping Leonard’s cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss, “you old romantic.” Leonard kisses him back, fingers tugging at his shirt eagerly. “You’re never going to fix that hole, are you?” Leonard asks, and Jim chuckles softly. “Right now, I’m gonna be focusing on a whole different ho-” Leonard interrupts him with a laugh, pulling the other in a little closer. “You’re terrible.”

Just wanted to say hi, I miss you all, and I certainly haven’t forgotten about you. These next three weeks are going to kick my ass but after I should be back on here on a more regulated schedule. I’m going to try and come on this weekend if I’m not too tired/busy.

Thanks for sticking with me