more on the wayyyy

anonymous asked:

tbh that lavender thing sounded wayyyy more poetic than i planned lmao

It was so beautiful oh goodness, thank you so much. Stuff like that brings me so much joy, you don’t even know. Also, top notch writing, I flippin loved it I had to reread it a few times and I was grinning to much

You might struggle with auditory processing if…

- Your catchphrase is “what?”

- You ask someone to repeat their question then finish processing and respond halfway through they’re finished repeating it.

- You somewhat processed what someone said but your brain won’t take it.

- You mishear what people say wildly wrong. Like, wildly wrong. Then you process it and it makes wayyyy more sense than whatever you thought someone originally said.

- “Wait, what?”

- Default face is a perplexed, confused look.

- You have to deal with rude people who refuse to repeat themselves and act exasperated at the suggestion, than proceed to get angry when you won’t respond to them and/or remember what they just said.

- You can hear a car door open down the street but you can’t hear someone talking to you in the same room.

- Talking is weird.

- You’re constantly seen as a bad listener (which, maybe isn’t that far from the truth- but they assume you’re not trying), unfocused (which I tend to be, but it’s unrelated), and so on. Nobody stops to consider that maybe you have processing issues.

- You were tested for hearing issues as a kid because you didn’t respond to people or talk much, but every test came back negative and your parents were told you have perfect hearing.

- The idea of talking to two people at once is terrifying beyond imagining.

- Responding to something someone said ages ago, even with a different conversation still going, the topic has moved on, and everyone forgot about it.

- “Huh?!”

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Seven)


Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

Many a red-headed man I’d passed on the long road from Lallybroch. Every single time, my stupid, desperate heart had leapt with joy; and every time, I cursed myself for the fool that I was. For Christ’s SAKE, why the bloody hell should he be on the road from Inverness, Beauchamp? Jamie Fraser is south, in Edinburgh, with his wife. With his daughters. Happy. So, pull yourself together. 

So deep had been my longing, though, that my traitorous eyes had tried over and over to convince me that it might be, it MIGHT be this time! (even when the actual travelers hadn’t looked remotely like Jamie). Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, one had been a very tall boy no more than twelve, and I still had had to see his face from ten feet before I would allow my heart to quiet. Not him. Not him. 

Blind hope, indeed. 

But this time, as I whirled and fell on the hillside, heart exploding, in a single moment, I was certain. Even from a great distance, even two decades later, even not yet able to see his face through the snow-flecked gloom, even had he not been screaming my name, yes, I’d know the shape of that man anywhere. It was Jamie, tearing toward me on horseback, riding like the hounds of hell were at his heels. And the SIGHT of him? A relief and a love smashed through me, so deep and so visceral that I staggered downward; not running, not even making my way down the hill;  just slipping, pulled toward his orbit. 

Alive. I had known for months, believed, had confirmation from Jenny herself, and yet the proof was now there before my eyes. Not under a stone on Culloden Moor; that nightmare was now banished forever. Jamie Fraser was ALIVE.

I saw him kick hard, spurring the horse to an even more astonishing pace—how loudly must he have been screaming that I had been able to hear him from so far away?—and found myself bursting out with joyous laughter at the way his shirt flapped like a sail in the wind. Nothing changed, then, if the ridiculous man had ridden without a coat or a cloak against the wind and the sn—


Wife. 

No.

Daughters.

Please….please, no.

This changes absolutely nothing, Beauchamp. This ends with you going through those stones, sooner or later. Make it sooner. 

But he came for me—Jamie came! He’s HERE.

He’s happy. He may have come, but he’s happy.  Don’t make him suffer by forcing this impossible choice. 

Just let me say goodbye.

Please. 

Let me hold him, just for —

Beauchamp: 

Can you honestly do what needs to be done if you have to look him in the eye and pull yourself out of his arms?


“CLAIRE!—What are ye—? S T O P !”

I was running up the hill, stumbling and tripping, going as fast as I could. I couldn’t stop. If I looked at him—If I touched him…

Everything seemed to slow to single frames, impressions:


The slow shrill cry of my breaths,

the grass suddenly inches from my nose as I staggered low over a boulder.

Hoofbeats, closer, louder.


I’m running for my life through quicksand,

every footfall sinking me deeper, and slower, as the monster gets closer and closer and—


A fierce whinny, a curse.

A voice— my voice—screaming. “STAY AWAY!”

Boots hitting the ground,

“CLAIRE, STOP!


Running, both of us running,  

and I couldn’t stop.

I must not st—


Time smashed into its normal pace again as I fell, mere yards from the crest of the hill, and cried out in pain.

“CLAIRE!” God, he was so close, pounding up the hill behind me, no more than thirty—

Don’t!” I shouted as I scrambled to my feet. 

“CLAI—”

“DO—NOT—TOUCH—ME!”  I screamed it over my shoulder with all the violence I possessed, a feral beast, cornered and ready to go for the throat as it went down.

Silence fell on the faerie hill. Stillness, and absolute silence.

When human thought returned, I was on my feet at the very top of the hill, the stones screaming their evil song behind me. My body was slung sideways, both arms raised in defense; my head hung at an improbable angle so as to look nowhere, see nothing: not the stones, not him. It was elemental in my body, in that moment: the absolute imperative not to look at him. If I could keep from looking, keep from getting trapped in those eyes, everything would be alright.

It was a ridiculous logic, I knew; somewhere in the recesses of my consciousness, that was obvious. Jamie Fraser was HERE. He wouldn’t simply let me walk away unacknowledged; but such was the depth of my panic and hysteria that I couldn’t move. I was bare millimeters from completely falling apart, abandoning all my noble resolve, and flinging myself into his arms, begging him to choose me  take me and damn the fucking consequences.

But it still wouldn’t change a bloody thing, the rational half of my mind whimpered. He would still be married. He would still have his children. We still could not be together, or at least not under any circumstances that honor would permit. I still could not force him to make that choice. 

Hold yourself together, Beauchamp. No tears, remember? You said you could do the same for him; could be calm and sure for him. Now, do it. Stand strong.

“….Mo nighean donn?”

That flower-stem snap.

That voice—Jamie’s sweet, clear voice; my very heart speaking aloud, quietly, but with every ounce of pain and longing that I felt in my own breast. 

Look at me, mo nighean donn.”

Stand. strong.

My mouth was dry and my entire body was shaking, each word an effort. “— Can't—”

A sudden, vicious snarl. “LOOK at me!”

I half-growled, half screamed, “I—CANT!” 

Desperate. So desperate, that ‘can’t’. I was shaking. Going into shock, in fact. Could feel the darkness and the manic energy and the absolute inability to retrieve words or actions closing—

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.” 

He said it like he always said his own name: low and distinct, with honor in every syllable.  

BE STRONG.

“I have ridden,” he said, in a voice so quiet and deep and measured, “night and day for nigh on a week, terrified that—terrified th—*Please,*” His calm vanished and the words were tumbling out of him in a frantic rush. “Please, for the love ye bear me, for the love that brought ye to find meTURN.”

STAND.

God, but I can’t stand.

“By everything that is holy…” A whispered moan. “Let me see your face, mo ghraidh.

….and damn my weak, foolish heart, I turned. I looked.


Day and night for a week, he’d said, and I believed it. Even at a distance of twenty feet down the hill, I could see just how bloodshot his eyes were, wide and wild. He was pale, underneath the red of wind and exertion, paler than I remembered. That glorious hair was now worn long. If it had been tied back, the ride and the wind had undone it. It was wild and tangled, whipping about his face, his chin covered in stubble that nearly amounted to a beard. His clothes—nothing but shirt, breeks and boots— were filthy and torn and splattered with mud. He looked, quite simply, dead on his feet.

He was the most beautiful sight I’d ever beheld.

God, you’re so like her, I wanted to moan. I’d known it, had had my heart broken every day to see the proof of him in our daughter, and yet seeing him now before me, I was absolutely run through to find her broad, good-humored face there, the same dark blue eyes aslant the high, flat cheekbones and wide mouth. 

He’d aged, of course, as had I. The lines around eyes and mouth were deeper, the skin more weathered and coarse, but it was still him. His nose had been broken, at some point. It made him look fiercer, though perhaps that was simply fatigue and the vast waves of emotion obviously rushing through him, through us both. 

Jamie had staggered back a pace or two back as he stared up at me, nearly toppling down the steep incline. “Jesus….Christ…” he whispered. The back of his hand was pressed to his mouth as though to stifle a cry, “You’re….You….” The hand became a fist and he shook his head as a gasping smile broke from him. “Claire—God, Claire, mo chridhe!” He moved, about to sprint up the hill. 

I jumped backward. Raised my arms against him. No.

Hurt. Betrayal. Pain. It was as though I had shot him at point-blank range…And something deeper shone beneath it all: some blazing intensity I couldn’t quite identify. He looked as though he would bleed out there on the spot, from this newest wound. 

So will I, my love. 

But he heeded me, standing completely still. His hands shook, half-raised before him. He simply didn’t know what to do with them—I knew because I didn’t know what to do with mine. His mouth worked as he tried to speak, to ask, to say something, but failing. Those eyes held everything, though. Pleading.

Silence on the hill. Silence and screaming. 

“You—survived,” I managed at last, weakly, with something like a laugh.

“Aye—” He exhaled in a huge rush, clearly grateful that I’d broken the stalemate. “It was a verra close thing.” He spoke fast and frantically, babbling, even, as though terrified to let silence fall again. “I should have died in the battle, or from the firing squads after, or of my wounds festering, but— Aye, I—I was—spared.”

“Thank God,” I whispered, and his eyes lit with such hope and relief that I could have cut my bloody tongue out at the root.

STOP this instant, Beauchamp. Nothing has changed.

Jamie was the one to break the silence, this time. “Your letter,” he gasped out.

“You read it, then?” A stupid thing to say. He’d obviously read it, but I clung to conversation just as he had. The stupid words were something, something to keep from falling off the edge of this insanity. “When?”

“By providence, I arrived at Lallybroch the same day you’d left, and….Oh, God, CLAIRE….”

Oh, God, Jamie. 

Each time my name left him, it seemed to tear a piece out of both of us. I could only look down at him, waiting.

“When I saw your hand on that letter,” he said, voice shaking uncontrollably, “the print of your ring in the wax, I …”

He shook his head, at a loss, mouthing it over and over. I…I….

Through the snow, though darkness was creeping steadily around us, I could see the first tear sliding down his cheek. “….I felt as though I were dying.”

So did I. So do I.

“To know you’d survived—that you’d come back, and—and,” his eyes lit up. “Brianna.”

From his lips, our daughter’s name sounded like strange music from another world, and I wanted to listen to it forever.

“It would have been enough—more than enough—only to ken our bairn had lived, that the both of ye had lived and been cared for, but to….Claire, I simply couldna believe my eyes.” He shook his head, violently. “To see…to SEE the lass…our daughter.” Jamie released his sobbing breath and closed his eyes, holding out his hands before him, tears streamed down his cheeks. “Her entire life, there before me… and she so happy and so braw and bonny and—God, it tore out my beating heart.” He heaved a breath and smiled up at me, beaming with love and joy, though it was difficult for him to get out the words. “She’s—more wonderful than I ever could have imagined, mo ghraidh….Our Brianna.”

I forced a smile and choked down a sob. “I’m so honored,” I whispered, so haltingly, so carefully, so, so carefully, “to have been able—to bring her to you, in some way.”

My love.

My own love.


Nothing has changed.

I know. 


I took a step, two steps, backward toward the stones. This was the part where I was to be strong. 

Jamie’s eyes snapped into laser-focus, a predator’s, and that unknown intensity I’d seen earlier flamed now into life. It was anger

“Why would ye just GO?” His voice was still wretched with pain but he was snarling, stammering, growling in mounting fury. “Ye—ye came for me and—Ye came all the way from your time through the stones and then meant to go back and leave forever wi’out even—Damn ye, woman, ye didna even—If I hadna come just in time—Foolish—wretched, FOOLISH—” He hurled the demand toward me with his entire body. “WHY?”

“You *know* why.” It was all but a moan. 

He growled again. “Ye dinna ken —” 

“I know that you’re married,” I got out, moving sideways around the rim of the hill, countering his advance. “I know you have children. Jenny told me everything—how hap—”

“No, Claire, ye dinna understand!” Something had shifted in his eyes — relief? — and he was once again still, though scarcely fifteen feet in front of me down the hill. “Jenny lied. She lied, Claire,” he insisted, the words falling out of him. “She lied and made ye think I was—”

You’re not  ??”

Jenny lied! Thank the bloody stars above, the horrible bitch LIED!!! Jesus H— 

My smile broke through like the dawn, a blaze of glorious, raging happiness as I gasped out, “Then, you’re not married?”

And I watched as that hope shriveled and vanished to dust. His eyes dropped to the ground. “I am marrit.”

I swayed, eyes closed. I couldn’t bear this any longer, couldn’t take this agony raging in my heart, both the emotional and the physical heart. I felt light-headed, felt pain in my limbs. I couldn’t be strong. I couldn’t.

Just a little while longer. Say your farewell, and be gone. It will be alright, Beauchamp. 

“Then she didn’t lie,” I said, simply, my throat burning with the effort not to wail. “You have a wife and two beautiful daughters.” I caught my breath and opened my eyes, managing to smile, though I was so very near the brink. “I meant what I wrote in the letter. Every single word. I want you to be happy—and I’m glad that you are. I’m glad that you have a family and that they have made you happy.”

His brows were drawn up, making him look absolutely crazed. He mouthed the word like he’d never heard it before. Happy?

“But I—” Somehow, I kept up the smile as I whispered through wooden lips and burning throat and the tears. “—but it means—that I have—to go, now— before—”

“NO,” he snarled, springing with sudden force. I staggered still further away around the hill as he bellowed, “You’ll NOT—”

“BE STILL!” I bellowed back.

And once again, he heeded me. 

“For God’s fucking SAKE, you bloody — Scot!” I shouted down at him, suddenly just as furious as he. “Have you NO notion of what — Don’t you understand? I’m giving you up! I’m letting you go!” I gestured wildly behind me to the stones, choking on my tears. “I’m leaving so you don’t have to choose! Do you think I’m so arrogant as to believe I’m worth upending your happy—”

“DAMN YOU, woman, I havena been HAPPY in TWENTY YEARS!”


Silence on the faerie hill. Silence and screaming. 


When he spoke again, it was once more in that quiet, aching whisper.

“Jenny led ye to believe otherwise and may she be damned for it.” He took a step forward, pointing.  “But in that letter, ye renewed a promise to me; and I’ll give ye the same, now.” Another step. 

I stepped back. 

He surrendered, went to his knees, hands clenched in the posture of oath-taking. “No lies, Claire.” His eyes blazed into mine. “Nor secrets. Not ever. Not now. I swear it on Brianna’s life.”

God, my heart…

“Will ye hear what I have to tell?” 

…it simply couldn’t take this.

But I nodded. 


“I left Laoghaire more than a year past.”

LAOGHAIRE?!?”

The outburst was so violent, so loud and so shrill in the wake of my long silence, that it startled us both. Jamie had to put a hand out to steady himself as he jumped, and the acute panic of a fresh hell showed across his face.  “She—Jenny didna—?”

“No, she BLOODY well DIDN’T!”

“Aye, well—ah …ehm…Claire?” 

He was peering leerily up at me, and little wonder, for I was laughing—actually, CACKLING with laughter, hands clutched to my belly as I doubled over with it. 

“No, Jenny didn’t tell me who,” I sighed, when I had calmed down (marginally). “The only detail your darling sister deigned to divulge about your wife—” 

Of all people. Of ALL the marriageable women in all the bleeding Highlands. He had married —had had children with—loved—

All levity, all scorn dropped out of me, and my voice cracked, a whispering shell. “—was that you were happier with her than she’d ever seen you….And that you had two little girls that call you Da.”

“But they’re not mine, Claire. They’re not mine,” Jamie said again more urgently as I stared. He gritted his teeth. “And I shall wring my sister’s neck for a wicked liar when next I see her, for she kens fine that I’ve not had ninety-nine happy minutes in that marriage since it began.”

I was so cold. Frozen, in every cell. 

“Two years ago, we wed,” he began carefully. “She was marrit before, twice, and found herself a widow wi’ two bairns to feed just as I was newly come back from England.” 

His words were running together, a bit. There was so much warring within him, so much he clearly wished to say, but cold and fatigue and emotion were taking their devastating toll.  

“I’m fond of her lassies—Marsali and Joan. They’re aged fifteen and twelve and have had a cruel, rough way of it, in lives so short. Wi’ all that they’ve endured, I was glad—honored, even— for them to take me into their hearts as a father, but hear me, Claire.” He held my eye. “I’ve shared scarce more wi’ them than what loving gentleness I could offer, and a scant few months of meals shared ‘round the same table. No more.” He shook his head with a sound of shame and regret. “Christ, I sound an unfeeling wretch. I do care for them, I do.

But they weren’t born of his love; nor had he had a hand in raising them.

“Their mother…She…”

She. 

“I did have hope, at the beginning; hope that perhaps there could be some — tenderness between us. Nothing like—” He make a vain gesture up at me and closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t bear it. “—like what I kent it could be between a husband and wife, but something good to keep me sane; keep me alive….Can ye see?…Have ye kent that same hope, Claire?…. Only she couldna; or I couldna. I’ll accept the blame in full, but in the end, the ‘why’ and ‘who’ dinna matter. It was a broken thing within months, and I knew that if I’d stayed….” 

He hung his head, and for the first time, I could truly see the twenty years that had gone from his life. 

“I left for Edinburgh; have been there ever since. I provide for them, but I havena called Balriggan home for over a year…nor shared her bed since long before that.”  

The wind whistled between us. What he was saying…

I was numb. I was…It was like I was underwater, with news being shouted to me from dry land as I slowly drowned. 

“I’ve lain wi’ three women, since you’ve been gone,” he blurted suddenly, urgently against my silence, his voice so miserable, his eyes imploring. “Laoghaire, and two single-night encounters, and from one of those—From one of those nights…”

Oh, Jesus…

“William,” he whispered, nodding in confirmation, his eyes absolutely wretched but shining with the need to confess. “He’s a — a bastard, in England, and I shall never see him again. I’ve never told anyone of him, not even Jenny or Ian. His mother, his putative father—they’re both dead. He’s highborn, in the care of a man I trust. John will give him a good life; better than ever a convicted traitor could.” 

He closed his eyes and I could see his mouth working furiously as he tried both to form words and to hold back his weeping. “But he’s my son,” he whispered. “My only son, alive in the world because of me, and he’s bonny and canty and strong, just like Brianna, and there are days when I canna seem to live wi’out seeing him, holding him, or —” And he went silent, hiding his face in his hands until he could manage to speak. “Nor can I regret that he lives, for those years I had near Willie were the closest thing I’ve had to—to — And that only a shell of what….”

He raised a hand up as though he would cup my cheek across the chasm between us; then dropped it. Both hands lay on his thighs, aimless. 

“No. Happiness has not been granted me, Claire.” He stared at his palms, speaking in the barest, broken murmur. “My heart left wi’ you and the bairn; and while it is my duty to go on, to care for those under my protection, as I shall do, I’ve had little joy save the knowledge that at the end, I’d die and be able to find ye, just as I promised. Two hundred years, I said I’d wait. I’ve been counting.”

The snowflakes danced around us in the near-night, oblivious to desperation or to miraculous sparks catching in dark, deep places. 

“And to then learn in a moment that you’d come back…”

I tried to speak; but I was shaking so hard that I couldn’t open my mouth. I clenched it tight, feeling the tears slipping over my lips. 

“Claire?” he moaned, reaching out a hand. “…Lass?…Love?…I feel as if I shall die if I canna touch ye….Please.”

My knees had locked — everything within me had locked, between Jamie and the cold— and as I tried to adjust my footing, I accidentally stumbled backward a pace.

Despair escaped out of him and he jumped up as though to run to me, but he thought better of it, and came back down to his knees.

“Twice, I brought ye here to send ye away, mo nighean donn, because I knew a better life awaited ye on the other side of those accursed stones. Perhaps it does, this day, as well, but this time, I shall beg. Don’t go.” 

He raised both clawed hands to me. The tears were flowing so violently and his face was so deeply contorted so as to be barely recognizable. 

“Don’t go. Stay wi’ me. Stay. I canna…I canna do it…Please.*please*….”  

I was paralyzed, completely immobilized by — by —

“Is it too much to forgive, Claire?” came the cracked moan of my heart through the darkness that had suddenly hidden him from me entirely. “Laoghaire and—and William? Do… do ye not want me?”

God, Jamie…” I whispered, so softly that surely only the grass and the snow could hear. 

It was the first time I had said his name aloud to him.

“….you’re all I want.”


“Then  what   else   matters?”


“….Nothing.”


Nothing else mattered.

And I was flying down to him, and he was flying off his knees to catch me, and the feeling of his arms around me, of Jamie’s arms around me at last was —

Like lightning, striking upon the sand. A flash of light, of power, instantly transforming the hundreds of tiny fragments— the millions of shards weathered to all but nothing by time—into a single, molten one. A whole. 


END OF PART I

pixelsilk  asked:

are you a little spoon or a big spoon? does it depend on how tall the other person is?

I’m usually the big spoon, even if the person is bigger, because I’m usually wayyyy more into cuddling than the other person is, even when it’s sleep time hahah

the story of the underwear cockles op

y’all wanna hear the story of how @amazinmango and i got this photo op at phxcon this weekend?

PART ONE: BEFORE THE OP

so here’s the thing: n o n e of this was planned. it was amazing, hilarious, ridiculous kismet. 

mango’s had his birthday recently, and so i brought his birthday present with me to phxcon. part of the present was a pair of jensen’s underbears (i think the text i sent mango right after jib was, “we’re close enough that it’s not weird if i buy u underwear right????”) bc i thought that was hilarious from jib and mango is a huge jensen fan and dean!boy. so the original joke was just that mango could have the bear underwear. i also got him a second pair in orange, bc orange is his fav colour. this was as far as i thought this would go. 

so i get into phoenix thursday night and give mango his present. we didn’t know there were cockles photo ops until friday afternoon when we saw hard tickets for sale. i distinctly remember being bummed that my hometown con had cockles photo ops for sale online but phxcon, the one i was actually going to, did not. but obviously once i saw they were available, like. THERE WAS ONLY ONE CHOICE. so after deciding it was completely financially irresponsible when we have no money, i bought the op. 

i can’t remember when it occurred to us that we had both the underbears and a pair of lucky orange underwear for misha in our hotel room. we wanted to do something fun and funny for the op, and cracked ourselves up at the idea. but we were also aware that it could be, you know, kind of sort of maybe intensely uncomfortable to be like (a) i know what underwear u were wearing and (b) here i brought pairs of them for you to further laugh over. i have a T E R R I B L E akdslkjkas embarrassment squick, so we didn’t want to do anything that made us uncomfortable, and we definitely didn’t want to do anything that would make misha or jensen uncomfortable. we wanted them to have fun with us and play around with us. 

we ran our idea passed our roomie, who has some good con experience, to see if she thought it would fly or not. we agreed on judging our plan based on their mood on the day and asking them if they felt comfortable enough to do it was the best course of action, with a back-up plan ready to go immediately just in case, so j+m knew we were serious that they could totally pass on it if it was weird. CONSENT AND SAFE SPACE. we were hella concerned about this. 

Keep reading

spaceless-sea  asked:

How are you? I hope well! Can you do a rfa+v and Saeran having to do seven minutes in heaven? Like honestly not even as drunk just sober. (Requests aren't open;-; but maybe later? Also I rlly love your blog like I'm most done with the masterlist^°^)

Author’s note: I hope you guys like this!!!! i’m still rusty ok it’s been awhile edit: I FORGOT V AGAIN someone please send in a request that says “add v” so I remember to edit him in here

Yoosung

  • “You wanna play cards? I brought them with me so we wouldn’t be bored!!”
  • Does he… Does he really not know what we’re supposed to be doing?
  • You looked down at Yoosung, who was already on sitting on the floor shuffling the deck
  • “Lemme guess… you’ve never played Seven minutes in Heaven.”
  • Yoosung paused for a second before shaking his head
  • You sat down next to him and smiled
  • He’s so cute…
  • “So what game do you wanna play, MC?”
  • But then again, this IS Seven minutes in heaven
  • “Strip Poker.”
  • Yoosung’s face turned bright red
  • “H-Huh? Strip?”
  • You smirked
  • “I’ll start.”
  • In one quick moment, your shirt was thrown across the room
  • “Okay, now you’re turn.”
  • Yoosung who had now achieved a new shade of red blatantly stared at your chest
  • “I-I… uhh, w-well-“
  • “SAY SOMETHING, YOU IDIOT!!!”
  • What the hell?
  • Yoosung looked behind you
  • “I think it came from the other side of the door.”
  • You stood up and opened the closet door, and in tumbled Zen and Jumin.
  • “So,” you crossed your arm and looked down at the two very guilty looking boys, “You wanna explain yourselves?”
  • The two of them began stuttering out excuses
  • “W-Well Yoosung’s never played before-“
  • “-I heard you were taking off your shirt-“
  • “-And I thought he might need guidance-“
  • “-So I wanted to hear the rest.”
  • You glared at them
  • “First, Jumin don’t be a perv, and second-“
  • “We were in the middle of something.”
  • You looked back at Yoosung, who had taken off his shirt
  • “And now that MC and I are even, I’d like to get back to the game.”
  • Despite the confidence behind Yoosung’s words, his face was as red as ever
  • You turned back around and smirked
  • “You heard the man!”
  • Jumin and Zen slowly got up, both mumbling curses under their breath.
  • You closed the door behind them
  • “Now, where were we?”
  • In the end the two of you ended up stripping to your underwear and then just playing go fish for the rest of the time

Zen

  • “W-What? I can’t be in a closet alone with MC!! How will I control myself?”
  • You walked over to the closet and gave Zen a smirk
  • “Who says you need to?”
  • 0.1 seconds later Zen was standing in the closet how the hell did he even get there so fast???
  • You closed the door and turned around
  • “So,” you clapped your hands together, “Show me what you got.”
  • Zen smirked
  • “You sure you can handle it?”
  • You raised an eyebrow, “I think you already know the answer to that.”
  • Zen smiled
  • “This is gonna be-“
  • Was all Zen could get out before hitting his head on the light
  • “Ohhh s-shittt…”
  • You rushed over to Zen, who was now bent over in pain
  • “Are you okay? Do you need ice? How bad does it hurt?”
  • Zen looked up at you with hazy eyes
  • “Slooowww down, youuu’reee talking wayyyy toooo fast!!!”
  • I’m not sure what’s more concerning… Zen’s slurred speech or the giant lump forming on his forehead.
  • “We need to get you out of here right-“
  • “NO! I want to give you… seven minutes…in…….”
  • THUD
  • “UHHHHHHH, GUYSOPENTHEDOORZENJUSTPASSEDOUT.”
  • “He did WHAT?”
  • Jaehee swung to door open, her eyes immediately traveling down to unconscious Zen
  • “What happened to his face? And why is the closet light busted??”
  • The rest of the RFA stood behind her, patiently awaiting your answer
  • “Well,” you looked down at Zen and smirked, “I guess he unleashed the beast a little too early.”

Jaehee

  • As soon as Jaehee closed the door she sunk down to the floor and sighed
  • “Finally… peace and quiet.”
  • You nodded, sitting down next to her
  • “Who the hell let Seven DJ anyways?”
  • Jaehee laughed, “I don’t know, but it was a horrible decision.”
  • It would’ve been fine if he just turned the damn the volume down…
  • You looked over at Jaehee, who was responding to an email on her phone
  • “Work’s got you pretty busy, huh?”
  • She gave you a sarcastic glare
  • “Doesn’t it always?”
  • The two of you began ranting about Jumin and the rest of the RFA
  • “I mean, does he think I’m just made out of cat toys? He can’t keep-“
  • “Wait… Jaehee?”
  • “Yeah?”
  • “I think our seven minutes are up… Did they forget about us?”
  • Jaehee checked her phone
  • “It’s been 12 minutes,” she looked back over at you and smiled, “so I think it’s safe to say they have.”
  • The two of you exchanged glances
  • It’s so nice in here…
  • “You wanna stay?”
  • Jaehee’s eyes lit up
  • “I thought you’d never ask!”
  • She set her phone down and yawned
  • “I think… I’ll take a nap.”
  • You reached up and turned the lights off
  • “Sounds good to me.”
  • You stared at the ceiling, waiting for the drowsiness to hit you
  • That was when you felt something warm slump on your shoulder
  • You looked over at Jaehee and she gave you a sleepy smile
  • “Do you mind if I use you as a pillow?”
  • Be still my heart.
  • “Y-Yeah!”
  • Jaehee closed her eyes, and within the next five minutes, she was asleep
  • The next morning Seven found both of you sleeping in his closet
  • And yes he was naked 
  • And yes he screamed
  • And yes you and Jaehee both screamed back
  • But it was still the best seven minutes in heaven you’ve ever played even if it wasn’t just seven minutes

Jumin

  • As SOON as the door closed he had you pinned up against the wall
  • “W-Woah, slow down there bud.”
  • Jumin closed his eyes and sighed, letting go of the grip he had on your hips
  • “Sorry,” he backed up and ran his hands through his hair
  • You practically feel him holding himself back
  • “Why are you so worked up??”
  • Jumin leaned back on the wall opposite of you
  • “It’s just, while we were out there, Zen kept… flirting with you.”
  • His nose crinkled when he said the word flirting, as if it were a disgusting word
  • “I know secretly dating is hard, but I really think its best.”
  • You looked up at him, “Especially with everything happening with your company…”
  • Jumin nodded, taking a step toward you
  • “I suppose I can’t blame Zen. You do look ravishing tonight,” Jumin smirked
  • You smiled back at him, giving him a small twirl
  • “Thank you, my boyfriend helped me pick this out.”
  • “I must say, your boyfriend has great taste. I bet he’s handsome, too.”
  • “Oh yes, extremely.”
  • “FIVE MINUTES LEFT YOU TWO LOVEBIRDS!!”
  • Seven’s yelling interrupted your conversation
  • “Hmm,” Jumin looked at you, “Do you think five minutes in enough?”
  • You pushed yourself off of the wall and grabbed Jumin by the tie
  • “Won’t know unless we try.”
  • And as it turns out, five minutes was more than enough time to… scroll through Jumin’s pictures of Elly

Saeran

  • “So.”
  • “Yup.”
  • “This is fun.”
  • “Really fun.”
  • For the first two minutes, those were the only words exchanged between you and Saeran
  • I have to do something to break this silence.
  • You cleared your throat
  • “Uhh… so how are you?”
  • SERIOUSLY??? Is that the best I could come up with?
  • “I’m fine.”
  • “…Cool.”
  • You looked down at your feet
  • I’m good too, thanks for asking.
  • this poor child doesn’t know how to socialize have mercy on him
  • When you looked back up at him, his eyes quickly darted away
  • Was he staring at me?
  • A light blush crossed his face
  • That’s… kinda cute.
  • You bit your lip
  • Well, this is seven minutes in heaven
  • Before your brain could tell you otherwise, you leaned forward and lightly pressed your lips against his
  • After getting over the initial shock that someone was actually kissing him Saeran grabbed your chin and deepened the kiss
  • When you pulled away, both of you were out of breath
  • You leaned back against the wall
  • “…So.”
  • “Yup.”
  • “That was fun.”
  • Really fun.”
  • Seven swung the door open
  • “TIME’S UP!!!”
  • You looked at Saeran and smirked
  • “Let’s do this again sometime.”
  • Saeran followed you out the door and grabbed your wrist
  • He pulled you back and lowered his voice so the other’s couldn’t here
  • “Name the place and I’ll be there.”
  • Oh, this was going to be f u n.

Seven

  • “♪♫YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, MC AND SEVEN IN HEAVEN FOR SEVEN♪♫”
  • You looked back the rest of the group
  • “Please help me.”
  • Jaehee gave you a pitying look and Zen saluted you “in honor of his fallen comrade”
  • Before you could anyone else’s reaction, Seven grabbed your hand and pulled you into the closet
  • “Your closet is a lot smaller than I thought it would be.”
  • Seven let go of your hand and laughed
  • “You do know I wear almost the same thing every day, right?”
  • You reached out to feel one of his shirts
  • “This one is my favorite.”
  • You pointed to the shirt Yoosung had gotten Seven for his birthday
  • It had a picture of the RFA on the front and the word “family” in Arabic on the back
  • “Mine too.”
  • Seven stepped closer to you
  • “You wanna see why I was so excited to get you in here?”
  • You felt your face heat up
  • “W-Well, I mean-“
  • “SAERAN TURN OFF THE LIGHTS!”
  • “What?”
  • As soon as the lights went off, Seven turned you around so you were facing the door
  • He wrapped his arms around you, giving you a tight hug from behind
  • “Look up.”
  • You tilted your head to look up at the ceiling
  • “Oh my…”
  • Glow-in-the-dark stars were scattered all over the top of the closest, turning the dull ceiling into a tiny galaxy
  • “It’s beautiful.”
  • Seven buried his face in the crook of your neck
  • “So are you.”
  • And that’s when it hit you
  • You were literally in heaven in with Seven
  • “Thank you.”

warm, calm afternoon

anonymous asked:

Two Part anon here, I can't recall what I wrote in P1/. So sorry it didn't go thru. Was mainly about looking forward to hearing the nuances of H's voice live on SNL (which I think will coincide with releasing the album on the following Tues 4/18.) My first SOTT listen was me being taken aback about how different the song was & that the choir at the end was a bit too much, & the guitars and space noises were such callbacks. After the 2nd listen it was all voice & lyrics. After 50+, I'm in love!!!

P2/ it is a overwhelmingly sad song, and that alone makes it different to 1D songs. I didn’t get the hopefulness that some are hearing. Reminded me a bit of thematic differences in Zayn’s solo album and the pervasive sadness in “It’s You.” Another thing - the falsetto where did that come from, are there any 1D songs where H hits notes like that? Zayn and Liam were known for that skill. Wonder if H was saving it like a secret weapon for his solos. Lastly, his voice. It’s really really good.


Yay! thanks for coming back!  

Yeah I’m SO CURIOUS to see what he’s going to sound like on SNL.  Is he going to hold onto this new good technique?  Or will nerves get to him and he slips back into his old bad habits?  This is NOT an easy song to sing.  First you’ve got the falsetto, but more than that a lot of the chorus/verse is right on his break which is a very easy place to strain if it’s not fully supported.  Listening to it, it sounds like it’s so easy for him but it’s definitely not. I’m still really obsessed with how good he sounds on it.  As for his falsetto- he totally had it in Home!!  I remember the first time hearing that song and i was like “i’m sorry, what?? Where did THIS come from, sir?  Why have you been hiding this from us?”  so i’m super pleased he’s using it more because it’s SO GOOD.  

That’s interesting that you thought it was so different!  One of my first thoughts was how it seemed like such a natural progression of all the songs he’s written with one direction, particularly stuff on Four and even more particularly, IICF (obviously the chords in the beginning are the same there).  I was also expecting it to be even more dramatic than this turned out to be so I loved the choir and guitars from the get to haha 

I both agree and disagree about the tone.  I’ll agree that I don’t see it as hopeful as a lot of people do, at least not in an uplifting sort of way,  but I do see that there IS hope at the end and don’t find it that overwhelmingly sad either.  To me it’s more of a jadedness than straight up sadness.  very much things really fucking suck, that’s just the way it is, but not everything is awful and there IS light at the end of the tunnel. 

Here’s how i see the song.  So you’ve got the beginning- the piano is kind of plodding, the rhythm slow and steady…and his voice comes in and he sounds tired, beaten down almost.  And then you’ve got the first verse which doesn’t resolve itself like the chorus and the second verse “you look really good down here, but you ain’t really good” …why didn’t he finish that? You’d expect it to be almost “you ain’t really good my dear” but no, he leaves it unresolved.  Then you’ve got the first time he sings falsetto and you can hear his voice crack just the tiniest bit on “Why are we always stuck and running from” around 1:09 and it’s heartbreaking.  

but then things start building and growing.  the phrases are resolved in the chorus and the next verse.  His voice is stronger.  More sure.  and it KEEPS growing and KEEPS building and by the end it’s big and soaring and the choir comes on in and it ends in a major key instead of something minor and depressing.  BUT!  what gets me is that it doesn’t end on the big swell.  It ends on the quiet, tinkling piano and even that doesn’t fade away but has a very distinct end (and it’s been many many years since i’ve taken any sort of music theory and don’t know the correct technical term for that particular type of chord at the end so if anyone wants to jump in with that that’d be awesome).  To me, the way it ends signifies that they maybe haven’t gotten away just yet as he’s so desperately belting his face off about…but they WILL.   

More MBTI Questions I Need Answers to

DISCLAIMER: I legit need answers actually hahaha, if you can comment that’d be great because MY CURIOSITY NEEDS TO BE QUENCHEDDD  ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

ISFJ
- how do I adjust your preprogrammed cookie instructions so that I don’t die from coronary heart disease after eating all your cookies? That stick of butter y'all put into them got my arteries going like @.@
- can I have some more cookies pls? I ate all 12 of them in one sitting
- how often would you like to set your ‘it’s normal to feel insecure’ reminder?

INFJ
- will you come with me to this party 3 weeks from now? I promise to never leave your side and I heard there will be pets there (my attempt at bribery)
- how do you have the best hugs? what is your secret?!?!?!? I MUST KNOWWW
- how are all of you so uniquely artistic? Every INFJ I know does some kind of knitting, oil painting, guitar playing on the side and THEY’RE EXTREMELY GOOD AT WHAT THEY DOO

ISFP
- How do animals know to approach you for your mystical blessing (i.e. legendary head rub that makes all the animals kneel before you in praise)?
- y'all have such colourful outfits! Can you share your wardrobe with me?
- is there a cap on the number of art forms you dabble in or is it more like all ISFPs gets at least one?

ESFJ
- can I come with you to Thursday’s yoga class? I don’t have a matching yoga mat, but I’ll bring you that soy drink that you’ve been wanting to try
- how is your social media game so on point? TEACH MEH YOUR WAYSSS
- do you ever randomly forget someone’s name while talking to them? Because that happens to me wayyyy more than it should

INFP
- is there a daily tears limit or is it more like a you must meet a certain quota by the end of the month?
- how many years are you granted Special Snowflake status? Or do you renew it every 5 years or something?
- do y'all come out of the womb knowing how to make flower crowns or what? THEY’RE TOO PRETTY TO EXIST HOWWW??!?!?!

INTJ
- on a scale from 1 (“I never do this”)  to 10 (“what does it feel like to not do this?”), how often do you think about world domination?
- is it possible to like puzzles but also suck really badly at them? Because that’s me T__T
- how often do you wonder about whether or not you messed up a social interaction? how often is too often? oh crap, my INTJ just lagged a little bit, DON’T BLUE SCREEEN NOOOOOOOOOO

ISTJ
- Are y'all anti-change or just pro-routine? because there’s a difference apparently *eyes ENTJ*
- HELPPPP my ISTJ is stuck in a loop/routine!! Is this normal?
- From all the mbti types, pick one to clean your house according to your instructions, one to walk your dog, and one who’s house might collapse into itself from the hoarding unless you intervene

ISTP
- where are y'all at? I don’t know enough ISTPs
- did you have fun last Friday night? 😉
- how do all of you have this sexy smouldering thing going on?!?! I CAN’T NOT FALL IN LOVE WITH ALL OF YOUUUU

INTP
- how many hours did you sleep last night? Aim for 8 next time 🙂
- list me your 5 most recent wiki page visits .. I need stuff to do … and researching about a random obscure science thing sounds like a fun Tuesday
- are the science functions pre-installed or is it only calculus that’s pre-installed? How do I upgrade these functions?

ESTJ:
- Of all the mbti types, pick one to be your employee, your significant other, and your child
- HOW MANY SUITS DO YOU OWN?!?! Can you lend me one?
- describe your ideal workplace environment (are you turned on by this question?)

ENTJ:
- do you get an adrenaline rush when you bulldoze during an argument? because I totally feel that
- what does an ENTJ mating ritual look like? (i.e. how do you act around your crush? or no diff because can’t run StrongFeelings.exe?)
- I think my ENTJ is broken, it keeps running IsolationMode.exe! How do I fix it?!?! T____T

ESTP
- HEY ESTP! WHERE IS THE PARTY AT!?! Please take me with you, I’ll dance on the porch outside your house if I have to
- how do you feel about manuals? or do you just set them on fire? can we do a group manual burning? *ISTJs are probably having a heart attack*
- Pick one mbti type to kiss, one to marry, and one to have casual sex with

ENTP
- name me ONE project you’ve ever finished that wasn’t for school/work (y'all get so excited when you start a new project but the old projects feel neglected AF y'know)
- Since you’re the Meme Lord(ess), if you marry a commoner, are they Duchess of Memes or Lady Meme? or Lord Meme? (just throwing that in real quick before the I see pitchforks outside mah house)
- how do y'all have so much air to debate for as long as you do? do ENTPs have unique genetic mutations that allow for larger lung capacity? do y'all double as Olympic swimmers too?

ENFJ
- where do all of our secrets go after we tell them to you? do you have a personalized file on each of us that you flip through from time to time as a bedtime story or what?
- why do all of you want me to reveal my emotional wounds? Is that the equivalent of foreplay or something?
- how do I install PersonalSpace.exe onto my ENFJ?

ENFP
- how do you have sooooooo many tabs open?!?!?
- do pets come to you or do you come to pets?
- will you take me with you on your next spontaneous surprise trip to Tokyo? All my bags are already packed, just tell me what day we’re going

ESFP
- why do y'all always smell nice? can I bottle your scent or something?
- do you take dance lessons or is dancing well just a feature of all ESFPs?
- have you seen my butt? Because you’re sexy AF and I’d like to give you permission to dance within 2 ft of it

The whole James Roberts/Megatron controversy is wayyy overblown and people are treating James Roberts like he’s writing Megatron as if he never did anything wrong but let’s not forget the following points:

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obnoxiously-phan  asked:

headcanon! i think the spider bit him right after he started taking t, so because it acted by hormones every enhancement it made was for a masculine body (six pack, pecs etc) which eased his disphoria so much

peter waking up the morning after the spider bite/two days after starting T, and his body is suddenly wayyyy more masculine and he’s like “zoo wee mama the testosterone sure is Doing The Most!!”

okay. one of those weird Microkitty Story time things!

 so growing up, my family listened to Meatloaf A LOT.
LIKE wayyyy more than any family. we still play his songs at Xmas while we’re all wasted and LOUDLY sing along. 

when I saw this photo of Elegant Valkyrie and I, I thought of the intro to “You took the words right out of my mouth” so, idk, if you like 80s music, give it a listen 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2t11CwlG444