my bh


baeksoo forehead kiss (>/////<)

What They Were Thinking

Yuuri: Viktor’s staring at me; his eyes are as cold as the ice we both skate on. I’m sure he is tearing me apart inside his head to find my weaknesses. To Viktor I am no more than a pathetic, arrogant, talentless skating reaching beyond my abilities who needs to be knocked back down into my place.

Viktor: OMG he’s so cute. His nose scrunches up when he laughs. How adorable <3 I hope he watches the routine I made about him. He’s so talented and beautiful and sweet~

someone: so what are your thoughts for next season?


viktor, a dweeb: i’m buying him a ring the wedding will be next june 💍💍😍


I’m gonna do this but better maybe like in a few days because I have no patience for anything and I drew most of this at 4 am yesterday, but for now thank u @kazliin for the warm up suffering 

lol I remember when everyone was like oh wow I wonder when Viktor fell in love w Yuuri n p much no one was like - fuck ages ago this lad has been in pain for yearrrrrsssss - turns out he was whoops lol (why u gotta do this to my soft skating son with 0% tact and 100% enthusiasm???).  

Summary:  A Hook/Emma angel/demon AU. They hide in plain sight, the servants of heaven and hell. The angels and the demons, who can save your soul or damn it. They stand on opposite sides, they are the bringers of light and the agents of darkness, they are enemies in an eternal war, but what happens when an angel and a demon are inexplicably drawn to each other?

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                                             Part Eighteen

Going to court was nothing like the way it was portrayed in the movies and on TV. Glossy dramas set in hushed courtrooms full of dark wood panelling where telegenic lawyers in designer suits and perfectly styled hair gave stirring arguments to an attentive jury, spontaneous confessions on the witness stand or the sudden discovery of last-minute evidence that exonerated the tearful defendant while the room erupted into chaos and the judge banged the gavel and called fruitlessly for order, press conferences held on the courtroom steps under blindfolded statues of Justice with her scales held aloft while the guilty were punished and the innocent walked free as the music swelled and the credits rolled.

The reality was a rather ordinary office building with no tall columns or grand porticos, where bored cops chatted and drank coffee in the fluorescent-lit halls while they waited to be called into traffic court, husbands and wives hashed out divorce settlements and argued over child custody agreements in the mediation rooms and overworked, underpaid lawyers who hadn’t landed the plum jobs at white-shoe firms hustled to file endless reams of paperwork for DUIs and landlord-tenant disputes, the six-figure student loan balances they had little hope of ever paying off hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles instead of Justice’s impartial scales.

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