one of those weird moments

Writing Is Hard

Summary: Dean finds the blog you use to read smutty fan fiction. And of course, he decides he can write a better story about himself. You help.

Warning: Smut, some dirty talk, mutual masturbation, all kinds of fan fiction clichés

Word Count: 4350

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. And thanks to @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ for being a great beta and being generally flawless. Hope you enjoy! XOXO


No. This isn’t happening.

This is one of those moments you’d had weird nightmares about, dreams that left you embarrassed and feeling all icky the next day until you finally convinced yourself that it wasn’t real. And just like those moments, this one will end any second now. You’ll wake up in some motel bed, Dean will be in the next room with Sam, asleep or showering or eating or anything but standing over your laptop with that look on his face.

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Have You Seen This Painting of A Hallway?

I got this package in the mail from my dad: brown paper wrapping, large but flat, with the word “FRAGILE” written on it in black ink. When I unwrapped it, it was this big, acrylic painting, framed in some sort of bronze-gilded plaster.

The painting itself was of this long hallway full of doors, kind of like you’d see in a fancy hotel. The walls had edging about halfway up, the upper part was painted sort of an off white while the lower half was a crimson red that blended into the carpeting. Between each door was an up-turned light, as well as on the far wall at the end, where the corridor seemed to connect to another hallway running perpendicular to it, disappearing around a corner.

It was really amazing detail, though I wouldn’t call it life-like by any means. Just the sheer amount of intricate pieces to each aspect of the scene showed that the artist really paid attention to every little thing, like somewhere in the world was this hallway, and you could stand in it and hold the painting up in front of you and if it weren’t for the border and the clearly stylized art, you wouldn’t be able to tell where the canvas ended and the real world began.

I called him up and thanked him immediately.

“But where’d you find this?”

“I got it at an auction.”

I kinda figured as much.

So I hung up the painting in my office, just behind my desk, which I realized later wasn’t the best place for it because in order to actually look at it, I had to swivel completely around, but there wasn’t anywhere better really, and once I’d gotten it hung up, I felt less willing to take it back down, so I just left it there. It kind of hung out over my shoulder and watched me work, and every now and then I’d turn around and stare at it and get entranced by it, feeling like I could get up and put my hands in the frame and climb into the painting as if the frame were a window.

Of course, I wouldn’t be writing this if something weird didn’t happen as a result of the painting.

We had a couple friends over, Marc and Sabina, and Marc and I went into my office when the women-folk started talking about knitting, which has become my wife’s new favorite hobby. I went and sat down at my laptop to find a video I had been telling Marc about, and Marc wandered over and started admiring the painting.

“Where’d you get that?”

“My dad bought it at an auction and gave it to me.”

“It’s creepy.”

“It’s not that creepy. It’s kind of… I don’t know.”

“Hypnotic?”

“Yeah.”

I turned around to look at it with him while the video loaded. He got up close and was running his finger over the canvas, feeling the raised acrylic, and I just let my gaze wander over all the details again.

“Huh, I didn’t notice that before.”

“What?”

“At the end of the hall, there’s some sort of light coming from around the corner, and it’s casting a shadow on the floor.”

I got up and looked closer, because I really hadn’t spent a lot of time studying the far end of the hallway. There was definitely some yellow and some darker colors making what looked like the shadow of a person coming from around the corner. I even reached out and touched it to make sure it wasn’t some trick of the light in the study making it just look like there was this shadow in the painting, but I felt the paint and sure enough it was actually there in the painting.

“See what I mean?” Marc said, “Creepy.”

I genuinely felt weirded out by it. It was one of those moments where you start thinking, Why didn’t I notice this earlier? Was it there to notice?

A couple days later, I was working on a project in my study, and it was like 9:30 at night, and I just couldn’t focus, so I spun around in my chair to look at the painting and I felt this sudden vertigo effect, like the ground wasn’t there and I had to grab my chair to keep from tumbling into emptiness.

You wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t looked at the painting a hundred times like I had. The hallway was long, with exactly six doors. I remember, because I counted them the first day. three on the left, three on the right, each with a little shiny, metal doorknob.

Only now there were seven doors. Three on the left, four on the right. It didn’t make sense. Everything looked proportionally exactly the same, and the far end of the corridor was just as far away, and yet there was a fourth door in the right side of the hallway, with its little metal doorknob. I don’t even know which door was the fourth door, that’s how well it blended in, I just know that there were four doors where once there were three.

“What the hell is going on?”

I turned away in my chair and back to check several times and make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, but the number of doors remained constant.

I called my dad again and I asked him, “Is this a trick painting you sent me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it keeps changing. I can see it changing.”

“Not as far I know. It was just one in a bunch I picked up all at the same auction.”

After I got off the phone I took the painting down and checked the back for some some of mechanical or digital hocus pocus, but it was all soft canvas so I left it on the floor behind my office chair with the painting facing the wall because the thought of it was freaking me out.

The next day I pulled my wife into my office and held the painting up so she could see it because she hadn’t had a chance to before.

“How many doors are there?” I asked.

She looked it over for a moment. “Seven.”

“When I first got this, there were six.”

She just looked at me like I was being a goofball. “Okay, so which one wasn’t there before?”

“I have no idea.”

“You don’t know which door magically appeared?” and she laughed and gave me a kiss and went back into the other room.

It gets worse.

The next time I chatted with Marc, I told him about the extra door in the painting.

“Are you sure there weren’t seven doors to begin with?”

“Well, I would swear I counted six.”

“Well, if another one shows up, at least Melissa counted seven, and can confirm it then. You know what you should do? You should take a photo of the painting so you can prove it if anything else changes.”

What a great idea, so I got my phone and took a photo of the painting.

Two days went by. Nothing.

On the third day, I walked into my office and there was a man staring at me. Well, I mean… it wasn’t… I can’t say that it was a man or a woman. Hell, I can’t say that it was human. There was a shape at the end of the hallway in my painting. It was oddly lacking in the detail that the rest of the painting had, like someone had hurriedly painted it on. I even ran my hand over it to make sure it wasn’t fresh, that someone hadn’t actually come in and painted over my painting to drive me crazy.

It was really there.

And the look of it scared me more than anything else, changing painting included. I wish I could do it justice with words, but the best I can describe it is that it was human-ish, with legs and arms, but it seemed squat, or hunched, and lopsided, like someone had slapped a blurry Quasimodo onto an otherwise beautiful painting. You couldn’t see the details of its face, but you could see shading on it, defining really warped features. I was almost glad that there wasn’t more detail to it, except that it left just enough to the imagination to give one nightmares.

But I had proof! Here was proof that the painting was changing. So I brought up the file on my laptop to show my wife for comparison, only when I did, the figure was in the photo I took too!

At no point did I start questioning my sanity about all this. Something unnatural and terrifying was going on, so I took the painting out of the house and set it on the curb where we put our trash for pickup. I was so done with that painting.

Or so I thought.

The next evening, when I got home from work, it was gone from the curb. I figured someone had seen it and taken it home, and I waved my hands and said, “Good, now it’s someone else’s problem.” I went in, played with daughter, had dinner, put them to bed, and after watching a show with my wife, went into my office to check my email.

No, the painting wasn’t back on the wall. I made sure of that the moment I walked in the door.

But I got a message from Marc, asking if the painting had changed anymore, and I told him about the creepy new addition and also how I had gotten rid of the painting.

“Oh man, that sounds cool. I wish I’d gotten a chance to see it.”

“Well, I can send you the photo I took of it.”

“Cool.”

So I opened the image file.

The thing in the painting had raised its arms.

Before, you could only barely make out the arms hanging at its sides, but now both arms were raised up over its head, and its fingers were spread apart like it was waving hello at me. I think it was waving hello at me.

I zoomed in, as best as I could without pixelating the image, and the shaded contours of the face seemed stretched into a grin.

Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

I sent Marc the file, but the connection kept fucking up, so I put it in a folder on my dropbox account and gave him access to it.

“The file’s corrupted.” He texted me.

I tried to open it as well, but he was right. Every time I copied the image file, somehow it got corrupted.

“It must be the spooky magic.” Marc joked.

“This is no joke. I’m freaking out here.”

“Delete the file if it’s scaring you so bad.”

So I deleted the file.

But it gnawed at me, you know? The painting was still changing, in horrible, terrifying ways, seemingly acknowledging my observation of it, and now it was gone. But if it was gone, why should it matter? If something unholy happens, it’s the problem of whoever has the painting now, right? And they’ll see it changing too, won’t they?

“Oh shit.”

It was two days later, and I was organizing a folder of documents and had accidentally deleted a couple I hadn’t meant to. I went into the Windows recycling bin and –you guessed it– there was the image file along with the documents.

I had to look. I was trembling with dread at the thought of it, but when something so surreal happens to you, you have to witness it and see it through to the end.

I recovered the file and opened it.

The walls of the hallway seemed to be melting. The partition separating the red from the off-white was lower than it had been before, and drooped in places. The ridge on the lights looked like they were peeling off. The carpet seemed less crimson and more reddish brown.

And the figure had taken several steps down the corridor toward the viewer’s perspective. More details had become defined: hair hanging off its head, long and black like it had been painted with a fine-tipped brush, the eyes were little more than dull black points under the shading of the brow. The grin came with teeth, uneven and fat, like those of a child more than an adult. Its arms were extended out on either side of it, touching both walls. One foot was ahead of the other, as if I had caught it mid-step in a game of red light/green light.

I realized I was panting and shaking as I looked at it. It was really hard to breathe, an anxiety attack. The painting was going to make me pass out, just from looking at a digital photo of it.

Quickly, I closed the image to calm myself down, but that suddenly brought forth the thought, What if it progresses every time I look away? The only way to stop it is to keep looking! and I opened the file again.

No change. Oh– no, wait, that wasn’t a new change, I had noticed it before, but it hadn’t dawned on me. One of the doors was open. There was a dim blue light coming from the room inside, moonlight I thought. And just outside the threshold of the door, there was an object lying on the floor.

I zoomed in for better detail.

It was a little, yellow, stuffed lion with a scraggly, orange mane. A child’s toy. Of all the details, the melting hallway, the grinning fiend with arms wide open, the blue light from the open doorway, it was the innocent nature of that little toy lion that filled me with the most dread.

My wife came into the office.

“Come kiss Gabby goodnight.”

I went into her darkened room, where she was wrapped up in blankets in her bed, hugging a half dozen stuffed animals and looking cute as could be. My little darling. I love her so much.

I kissed my daughter goodnight. She kissed me back and hugged her little pillowpet with the built in night light. It glowed through a variety of colors.

“I love you, baby.” I told her.

“Can you get my Simba?”

I looked around. “Where’d you leave it?”

“Over there.” She pointed to the closet. The door was open, and her toy lay on the floor just inside.

Simba, her little, yellow, stuffed lion with the scraggly, orange mane.

Seeing it lying there, just past the threshold of the closet door, while the dim glow of my daughter’s night light faded from red to purple to blue, I felt my heart rise up in my chest. The closet was just a closet. I could see it was just a closet. There were clothes on hangers and bags with toys and blocks in them. They were right there. And yet, as I looked at the stuffed lion lying on the floor, waiting for me, I felt as if I could see carpeting on the floor inside the closet, even though there was none. Carpeting, not in my vision, but in my imagination. And maybe if I went in and shut the door, I’d find that the walls beyond those clothes had a wooden partition, red below, off-white above.

And maybe there was something hunched and terrible shambling its way toward us even as I stood there staring at that toy.

I walked, briskly, trying not to look half as frightened as I was, snatched up Simba and shut the closet door. My breathing was heavy, like I’d just run a mile, and I struggled to avoid gasping for breath as I tried to calm myself down.

“Hey, did that poster fall down?” I asked nobody in particular, then pretended I was trying to adjust a cat poster that had been on the floor by her dresser for months, and shoved the heavy dresser over so that it partially blocked the closet door.

“Here’s Simba, sweety.” I handed the lion to Gabby, gave her a quick hug and kiss, and wished her goodnight before rushing back to my office.

The painting had changed, as I knew it would. The open door was closed, the toy gone from the floor, the hallway was dimly lit with yellow light from the melting lights again. But the thing, that not-quite-human fiend, was standing right outside the now shut door, its body turned to face it with both hands pressed up against the door itself like it was running its hands down it, caressing it, and its head turned toward me, still grinning that awful, frightening grin full of gnashed, crooked teeth.

Oh God how close had it been? No, it’s just a closet! The hallway is not there. It’s not real. None of this is real.

I’ve put up signs around the neighborhood, knocked on doors, asked everyone I know and many I don’t if they know who took the painting. I need to find it and get it back. I want to tear it, shred it in my hands, throw it in a fire and watch it burn to ashes. Jesus God in Heaven, I hope it didn’t end up in some landfill.

I’ve learned the awful truth… All Doors Lead To The Hallway

Best Pun Ever

Mallory and Mark Kensington were two star struck lovers who had been married for 12 years. Mallory was a commercial airline pilot and Mark was the captain of a nuclear submarine. They were both very responsible with their money, lived simply, had no children, and no vices. The only exception to their frugality was their dog Max whom they doted on at every possible occasion. Unfortunately for Max, fate had terrible plans in store for him. One dark August day, Mallory and Mark were both at their respective jobs and in a cruel twist of fate suffered major mechanical failures at the same time. In a million to one oddity, they both perished in the astonishing first-of-its-kind airplane/submarine accident.

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Have You Seen This Painting of a Hallway?

story by reddit user wdalphin

I got this package in the mail from my dad: brown paper wrapping, large but flat, with the word “FRAGILE” written on it in black ink. When I unwrapped it, it was this big, acrylic painting, framed in some sort of bronze-gilded plaster.

The painting itself was of this long hallway full of doors. It was really amazing detail, though I wouldn’t call it life-like by any means. Just the sheer amount of intricate pieces to each aspect of the scene showed that the artist really paid attention to every little thing, like somewhere in the world was this hallway, and you could stand in it and hold the painting up in front of you and if it weren’t for the border and the clearly stylized art, you wouldn’t be able to tell where the canvas ended and the real world began.

I called him up and thanked him immediately.

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god………………… remember orth growing into the person ibex lied about him being able to become……………………………

Seventeen Reaction to You Laughing Uncontrollably

make a request or check out the master list! [ gifs do NOT belong to me / FULL CREDITS TO ORIGINAL OWNERS ]

-Admin N


S.Coups/Seungcheol He would be laughing along with you at what a member did; the laughter would eventually die down but he’d still hear muffled laughter coming from you. You couldn’t hold it in, and you just couldn’t stop either. He’d find this funnier than what you guys were laughing at earlier.

Jeonghan You were scrolling through your phone and came across a really funny post. You often made things seem funnier than they actually were when you were tired. Your laughter made Jeonghan curious so naturally he looked over to see what it was. Realizing you were just having one of your laughing fits, he tries to calm you down and will put his hand over your mouth at times.

Joshua/Jisoo He still wasn’t used to see you act like this since you didn’t do this very often, only when you were really tired. He had the same reaction whenever you were laughing uncontrollably; he couldn’t help but just look at you in confusion, he’d be unsure if he should let you be or try to calm you down.

Jun/Junhui You would suddenly burst into laughter, he knew you were just having one of those weird, but cute, moments so this didn’t really faze him. He will often break into a smile whenever he saw you like this. He’d just let you be but if it got too much he will try to calm you down

Hoshi/Soonyoung He would find it incredibly hilarious to see you laugh uncontrollably out of nowhere. He wouldn’t make an attempt to calm you down because it was too entertaining for him to watch. He’d really like knowing that you had this silly side as part of you.

Wonwoo Like Joshua, he hasn’t usually seen you act this way. He will most likely stay quiet and let you be. He’d also find this another cute little thing that you do, adding to the long list of reasons to why he loves you.

Woozi/Jihoon Every time this happened, he’d try to hold in his laughter when he sees you have a laugh attack. He’d want to put his attention somewhere else but it’d be too hard to hear your cute laughter in the background.

DK/Seokmin Whenever something funny happened, it was no surprised that you two would be the last ones to remain laughing. However this time, your uncontrollable laughter shocks him. It causes him to burst into laughter again to see you act this weird.

Mingyu He didn’t find it weird at first that you were laughing this much but when you drop to the floor still laughing, he’d ask jokingly, “What’s wrong with you?”

The8/Minghao There would be silence, but you make him jump a little with you sudden burst of laughter. He’d try to ask you what happened but you wouldn’t be able to get words come out of your mouth. He’d think you were laughing at him until you explained.

Seungkwan He’d definitely enjoy teasing you; when you stopped laughing hysterically, he’d show you how you were acting just to make you feel embarrassed. 

Vernon/Hansol He’d be genuinely confused; he’d want to figure out what caused your sudden laugh attack. It didn’t take him long to give up though, he eventually chose to leave you be.

Dino/Chan He wouldn’t even care that you were laughing for no particular reason; your laugh attack brings a smile to his face, it even causes him to laugh along with you.

anonymous asked:

Hey guys? This is gonna seem like a weird question but have you ever had one of those moments where outside you look and appear to be beautiful and amazing but on the inside you feel ugly and out of place? Sorry, I just feel awful and I'm so exhausted from work...I need to sleep but I feel so worked up from so much caffeine in my system...

Magnus - Take some time for yourself, dear, it sounds like you could use some rest, then maybe you’ll start to feel a little better.

The White Box.

GROUP: GOT7

GENRE: Angst/Tiny bit of fluff

PAIRING: Reader/Jaebum

WORD COUNT: 6,396

PLOT: After being lured into an abandoned warehouse by an imitated text message, you find yourself playing a dangerous game with the last person you wanted to see. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Argh this took so so so long to write. Please, if you enjoyed this do me a favour and let me know. I literally put a lot of sweat, blood and tears into these 6000 words and I’d appreciate the feedback! c: I’ve never tried writing this genre before so I really struggled with this. I hope you guys like it though! <3

Originally posted by defsouljb

“Hello?” you called into the dark warehouse your friend had texted you to go to. I knew this was a bad idea, you chided to yourself as you continued to wander through the abandoned building. “Yugyeom I swear if this is one of your stupid pranks again I will literally beat the crap out of you!” you tried again, hoping—though in vain—that maybe he would come out from where ever he was hiding and just call off this whole hoax.

You weren’t stupid, you knew you should be a little creeped out by the lack of response. You were, after all, quite possibly completely alone in an abandoned warehouse. Actually you possibly weren’t alone… and that scared you even more. “Yug come on this really isn’t funny.” you yelled one last time before a subtle scuttling to your left had you jumping. You know those moments in a horror movie where you’re literally screaming at the main character NOT to go check out those weird noises off screen? Yeah this is one of those moments (Y/N). you thought quietly before cautiously stepping around some barrels to head in the general direction you thought you heard the noise come from.

You walked straight towards a half opened door flooding bright white light into the small corridor you had found yourself in. “Hello?” you whispered shakily, your hand moving to push the door open further before you could stop it. Suddenly you were shoved forward and onto your knees, the door slamming shut behind you leaving a loud ringing in your ear. “HEY LET ME OUT!” you screamed frantically, pounding your sooty hands on the pristine white padding that seemed to line the entirety of the small room. “P-PLEASE LET ME OUT!”

You frantically searched your pockets for your phone, pulling it out with hope before a strangled choke left your throat at the words blinking at the top of your screen; “No Service”. You were so close to tears. Banging on the door one more you continued to beg and scream in vain.

“They won’t listen.” a tired voice muttered from behind you causing a shout to slip through your lips at the sudden discovery that you weren’t alone. “Sorry.” you didn’t need to turn around to recognise the voice coming from the figure slumped over in the corner of the room, but you needed to confirm your misfortune.

“J-Jaebum?” you stuttered, the shock of the entire situation still tittering through your veins. He merely grunted in response as you eyed him warily. “You look like crap.”

At this he glanced up, scowling at your relatively fresh pair of jeans and plain t-shirt compared to his dirtied sweats and soiled white t-shirt. “Yeah well instead of literally walking into this trap, they had to drag my unconscious ass after after they chloroformed.”

“I didn’t walk into it.” you mumbled embarrassedly, sliding down one of the walls on the opposite corner.

“Right.” he chuckled sarcastically before finally lifting his head up, resting it against the wall behind him.

It was awkwardly silent for a while, neither of you really knowing what to say, before you quickly remembered something he’d said. “You said they.. Who is they?” you asked and he shrugged stiffly, his face as expressionless as stone.


“I don’t know. I obviously didn’t see. I swear if this is one your friends’ pathetic pranks again I’m going to be seriously pissed.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your temper rising at the implication behind his tone. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do you honestly think I’m somehow involved in all this?” you scoffed, crossing your arms in defense.

“Oh come on (Y/N). Do you really expect me to believe that? Look at the state of you compared to me. You clearly didn’t put up much of a fight. You did, after all, literally stumble into the room—a seriously haphazard attempt to look innocent by the way.” you simply gaped at him as he continued to spew inaccurate accusations your way, “Is this some attempt to get us back together? We were over long before we broke up (Y/N)-ah come on-

“Can you stop that?” you snapped, rolling your eyes so hard you could have sworn they were going to snap off their muscles.

He seemed slightly taken aback by your outburst but quickly composed himself, a grimace contorting those undeniably attractive features of his. “Stop what?”

“Being so freaking conceited! Holy shit. Everything just has to be about you right? The all popular and gifted in all ways—Im Jaebum! Get over yourself. Trust me when I say I have and will always want nothing to do with you anymore. I realised a long long time ago that you really are not worth my time.” you chuckled bitterly, watching his hard expression falter slightly. “Everyone treats you like some sort of god. All my friends literally worship the ground you walk on every time you walk pass and all my favourite teachers kiss your ass every time you hand in an assignment as though you’ve handed it in 2 weeks in advance instead of 2 weeks late. Maybe it’s because I actually knew you before all this attention got into that thick head of yours, but I’m not fooled by this ridiculous facade that you carry around at school. You’re not this confident, rude, or even conceited as everyone thinks you are. Or at least that’s what I think. Who knows right? I’ve been out of your life for so long.. Maybe the Im Jaebum I actually knew just doesn’t exist anymore.”

A thick silence followed as you stared at one another, challenging him to say something in return—prove you wrong or at least deny whatever you were saying—but he just stared blankly at you, his expression falling by the second. Then you saw the quirk of his lip and you nearly cried in frustration when he slipped on that infuriating smirk at an attempt to throw you off his crumbling front.

“You really hate me for breaking your heart huh?” he chuckled; and if you both weren’t cramped up in the small confines of these 4 walls, you would have missed the shakiness in his words.

You sighed exasperatedly, your eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion. “I don’t hate you,” you mumbled quietly, “I just don’t know you. I know Im Jaebum… the guy who used to sing teletubbies in the car just so I’d kiss him to shut him up instead of the one who would scream out random song lyrics in the middle of literature for a couple laughs; the guy who used to make fun of the football players with me because he thought they looked like imps, parading their way through school like kings instead of the one who took their place; the guy who swore never to let go of my hand in the lunch line because he said he would lose me amongst the sea of students instead of the one who would leave me to buy lunch on my own because he had ‘friends to attend to’; the one who was content with just having the two of us on saturday movie night instead of the one inviting our entire grade; and the one who would tell me he loved me more when I told him I loved him… not the one who brushed my words off his shoulder like flecks of dust. So no, I don’t hate you. I don’t know you. Maybe I never did.”

You let the silence settle in, your eyes remaining closed as you let your last few words slip out tiredly. “I know you want to fit in. I just wish you realised you fit better with me than you do with all these temporary people.”

Prying your eyes open silently, you took in the dishevelled appearance of the love of your life—or at least the shell of who he used to be—and felt a pang of guilt strike you in the heart as you observed the trail of hot tears slipping down his cheeks. When he noticed you looking, he quickly rubbed at his face, feigning fatigue.

“Yeah well whatever. I guess you’re right. You never did know me.” if you thought him breaking up with you was painful, hearing those words hurt a tenfold worse. You stayed quiet and instead lay onto your back, tracing the built in lights that surrounded the edges of the ceiling.

You did your best to brush the whole conversation off, resorting to changing the topic. “How did they lure you here? We’re literally in the middle of nowhere.”

“I could ask you the same.” he retorted. Oh come on work with me here asshole.

“I got a text from what I thought was Yugyeom’s number. I guess whoever has us kept here cloned his cell number.”

You figured he wasn’t going to give you an answer back so you swiftly shut your eyes again. If he didn’t want to speak to you then at least it made it easier to pretend he wasn’t there.

“I hang out at this warehouse often with Jinyoung and Mark. I got a text from Jinyoung about meeting him here and sat around waiting for him until someone came from behind and knocked me out.”

You frowned, “is your head okay?”

He must have been caught off guard from his lack of reply but he quickly coughed, “Y-yeah. It’s fine.”

“Must have been a pretty hard hit if it managed to knock you out.” you muttered thoughtfully, though at this point you were talking more to yourself than him.

“And why is that?”

You stifled a laugh before answering, “Because it would take a lot to get through that hard head of yours.” you glanced briefly at him in time to catch the ghost of a smile flicker across his lips—but it was gone before you had the chance to know for sure.

“Yeah whatever.”

“I’m guessing you’ve already tried looking for a way out?” he stared at you with a what-do-you-think,-stupid? look before looking up at the ceiling.

“There’s nothing. We’re completely sealed in and there’s no handles—no nothing. Only that door and an air vent up there. There’s only one way out and it can only be opened from the outside.” he shrugged defeatedly, his eyes flickering around the room from pad to pad.

“At least the ground is comfy.” you chuckled half heartedly before closing your eyes again. “I’m so tired…”

“Sleep. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.” and that was all it took for you to drift off into a less than comfortable sleep.


You were shocked into consciousness by a loud alarm only to have another heart attack at the proximity you had found your face and a frantic-looking Jaebum.

‘What the fuck?” you grumbled tiredly before you noticed Jaebum’s… situation.

“it won’t stop!” he cried, eyes screwed shut with his palms pressed against his ears. He was crouched against the corner next to you, his body curled into itself as though to protect himself from the noises. He was whimpering and repeating pleas under his breath as he rocked slightly on his heels and toes.

“Jaebum?!” you scrambled to his side and cautiously pulled at his arms, wrapping them around your waist before cupping your own hands over his ears, pulling his head into the crook of your neck as you let him cling onto you for dear life.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him like this. The first was when the two of you got stuck in an elevator, 20 floors from the bottom floor. He had severe anxiety and had been suffering from it for years since the day his parents started fighting. Loud noises and unfavourable situations was enough to flick the switch and turn him into this shaking, feverish mess.

You whispered soothingly into his ear as you had done numerous times before, keeping your body close to his to remind him he wasn’t alone and that he was only imagining himself in his old closet, shaking and crying his eyes out as his parents threw words and objects at each other.

It must have been at least an hour before he caught his breath but the sirens hadn’t stopped so you kept your hands on his ears and he stayed pressed against you with his eyes shut. He should have been embarrassed having you see him in such a vulnerable state… but this was you—the girl who had seen him like this, if not worse, at least a couple dozen times and still stuck around.

Suddenly everything came to an abrupt stop and a voice boomed throughout the room from what you could only assume to be a speaker hidden somewhere.

“Goooooood morning ladies and gentlemen.” the voice taunted, a deep chuckle crackling through the receiver. He must have been using vocal distortion—you know the kind in those stereotypical horror movies?—because his tone came out monotonous and familiar, but only because of your wide collection of horror films packed onto a shelf above your desk. “Oh sorry, did I speak in plural? My apologies. I meant lady and gentleman. You’re probably wondering what the hell you’re doing in my little white box. Well I’ll tell you. We’re going to play a little game…”

“Seriously? What are we in—Saw part 4?” you whined, though this didn’t seem to phase whoever was on the other end of the receiver.

“We’re going to play a simple game of truth or dare. Though, if you lie or fail to fulfill your dare… you die.” all whilst the rest of the rules were being listed for you, Jaebum gently untangled himself from you and sat a little away from you, his eyes trained to the ground and his features set in stone.

“Let’s start shall we? Hmmmm, Jaebum! Truth or dare?”

He didn’t look up, didn’t move an inch, just muttered one word under his breath and snapped his mouth back shut. “Truth.”

“Let’s start easy hm? Ease into it. How did you meet your box-mate? Details please~” you eyed Jaebum warily—half expecting him not to have an answer yet half hoping he did.

“1st grade. She was the annoying cute girl who always put her hand up before anyone else. She always had her hair tied half up half down with this satin light blue ribbon that made her hair look like it was almost glowing. We were on the playground one day and I had fallen over. Balling my eyes out, I didn’t notice her shuffling towards me with a shy smile, bandage in one hand and ointment in the other. After that it became a silent agreement that I had her back as long as she had mine and we spent the next 10 years by each other’s side.” he spoke so softly you had to strain your ears just to hear. It was a wonder how your captor could catch every word; but he did, and he was pleased.

“Wonderful. I’m glad you’ve decided to play along—it is in your best interest after all.” the voice chuckled darkly. You stayed frozen as you stared at Jaebum’s slumped figure in shock. You couldn’t believe he remembered all that. You figured he would have tossed it to the back of his mind the moment he realised he didn’t need you around anymore… You refused to overthink it any longer in fear of reading too far into things and instead snapped your head to the ceiling upon hearing your name.

“Truth or dare honey.” if you had turned your head to the left you would have caught the tightening of Jaebum’s fist as he glowered silently at your pet name.

“Truth.”

“Hm you guys are no fun. Very well… Who was your first kiss?” you blushed harshly as you hesitated, not really wanting to answer the question.

“J-Jaebum.” you answered quietly, praying to god you sounded convincing enough.

A loud buzzing sound reverberated around the room followed by a raucous laugh. “Now now (Y/N), you know what happens if you lie. I’ll give you one last chance to be honest.” Jaebum stared over at you in shock, a mix of betrayal, anger and hurt flashed across his eyes before they settled on anger. His eyes narrowed in disdain as he watched your bottom lip tremble—a tell he knew by heart when it came to you lying.

“B-but I’m not!” you tried pathetically, the fear of Jaebum finding out the truth bubbled up your your throat making it hard for you to breathe.

“STOP LYING. DO I NEED TO PROVE TO YOU THAT MY THREATS AREN’T EMPTY?” the voice screamed viciously causing both you and Jaebum to jump in shock.

“OKAY! O-okay.” you sighed defeatedly, your hands shaking as you drew in a nervous breath. “I-it was Dae-Jung-ssi.” you whispered.

“You told me I was your first kiss.” Jaebum spat bitterly as he glared at the wall ahead of him.

You whimpered pitifully, your eyes digging into the side of his head, begging silently that he would look at you as you said your next words. “You were my first real kiss! Dae Hyun didn’t mean anything to me!”

“Yeah but you promised! You promised that we would be each other’s first kiss because we knew! We knew we were in love with each other. So why would you kiss him first?!” you got what you wanted; he was looking at you now, his eyes red with anger as he fisted his hands so tight his knuckles were glowing white. Jaebum had always been one with a temper but you had never seen him this angry… This upset.

“I’m sorry! I-”

“Save it. I don’t care.” he hissed, turning his head away from you as though he’d just seen the most disgusting of sights. You sniffled silently to yourself, praying he wouldn’t see the streams of hot tears slipping down your cheeks. It may seem pointless, getting upset over something that happened so many years ago, but promises between the two of you used to be sacred. It was what really held the two of you together all those years and if it hadn’t been for the promises you had made, the two of you would have fallen out long before last year.

“There. Was that so hard, love?” the voice giggled happily, a tittering clap ensuing in the background. “Ooh this is getting fun! Jaebum-ssi~ Your turn again!”

“I’m tired of this game already.” he bit out, his figure heaving with every heavy breath he took.

“Excuse me?” the voice shrieked, its volume sending daggers through your ears.

“I SAID I DON’T WANT TO PLAY ANYMORE.” Jaebum growled, glaring at the ceiling.

“Nu-uh-uuuh.” the voice cackled wickedly. Suddenly Jaebum was screaming in agony, his hands clamped down on his ankle where a black metal band was clasped tightly around it. “Electric current. Each time you upset me, I’ll turn the voltage up.” he continued sweetly before turning off the current. Jaebum flopped lifelessly back onto the padded floor, his breathing erratic and strained as he moaned softly in pain. You crawled quickly to his side, pulling him up against you so you could properly see his face.

He stayed limp for a while before pushing himself off of you, using whatever little energy he had left to drag himself away from you. You felt a pang in your chest as you watched him desperately distance himself from you.

“Now, are you going to be good pawns and play my game, or should I just get rid of you both now?”

“NO! WE’RE SORRY. LOOK, PLEASE JUST DON’T HURT HIM ANYMORE. WE’LL PLAY YOUR STUPID GAME!” you wiped at your cheeks distraughtly before clenching your fists by your side; so tight you were visibly shaking.

“Good. Now let’s try this again… Truth or dare Jaebum?”

This time Jaebum offered a meek “Dare.”

“Very well… Hm I dare you to take the marker hidden behind one of those white panels within the next half minute and write the name of the person you’re in love with on it.” he ordered happily, before you heard a click. Instantaneously, a large red ‘30’ began to glow against the ceiling. “Well get on it.”

With that the timer started counting down and you quickly grabbed Jaebum under the arms, throwing him onto his feet before scrambling off to the other side of the room to tug at every tile.

“20 seconds left.” the voice taunted in the background as you continued clawing against the wall.

“Jaebum!” you cried in panic as you moved to the adjacent wall.

“I’m trying!” he snapped, moving to the last wall.

“5,” nothing.

“4,” still nothing. Fuck I’m running out of panels.

“3,”

“(Y/N)?!”

“I can’t find it!” oh god no.

“2,”

“Wait this one won’t budge! (Y/N) come help me god damn it!” oh okay fuck fuck fuck.

“1…”

THUMP

“Okay you can stop counting down!” you screamed and the ceiling went blank once more.

Jaebum gingerly picked up the black permanent marker, uncapping it before reaching out for the panel you had both pried off the wall moments ago. You watched him carefully, your heart thumping a mile a minute as you thought of all the possible names he could be scribbling down. If roles were reversed you wouldn’t have to think twice about drawing out the characters ‘임재붐’. (Im Jaebum)

Finally after stalling for what seemed like hours, he pressed the marker against the soft surface, the back of the panel facing you so you couldn’t see whose name was imprinted on the white.

“How interesting.” the voice announced, his voice dripping in ridicule before he commanded Jaebum to return the panel to the wall invertedly so you couldn’t see who it was. You frowned slightly but before you could comment-

“Now (Y/N) dear, truth or dare?” he singsonged.

“Truth.”

You could practically hear the pout in his voice as he muttered his next words. “Sigh.” did he just say sigh? “Fine. Do you have a tattoo Ms. (Y/F/N)?”

You blushed profusely, your hand lifting up your shirt in response to reveal the cursive embedded into the flesh above your left hip. Jaebum found himself unable to keep his eyes off the exposed flesh. Instantly he was brought back to the moments he had found himself trailing his fingertips along your body, the smoothness and warmth under them as you giggled into his shoulder. He’d never seen that tattoo before.

Love is enough

“What do you want for you birthday?” you asked happily, your arms wrapped tightly around Jaebum’s waist. He shook lightly with a chuckle, his hands coming up to slide across yours before turning his attention back to the eggs currently frying in the pan.

“What do I need that I haven’t already got?” he told you with a grin, turning his head to give you a small peck.

“This is enough?” you giggled, laying your head onto his right shoulder.

“Love is enough.”

Jaebum quickly shook himself out of his short reverie, his eyes flickering back to the dark blue lettering before you let your shirt fall back down. He quickly shifted his eyes back to the ground, his heart palpitating wildly.

“Very cute. What does it mean?”

“One question to one truth right?” you shot quickly, not wanting to explain so you could save yourself the embarrassment and disgusted look you were sure to appear on Jaebum’s sharp features.

You heard the person on the other end of the receiver click his tongue. “That is true. Very well. Let’s get a little serious hm? Enough child’s play. Jaebum-ssi!” you sighed silently in relief, slumping onto the ground opposite the dark haired boy whose eyes were still fixated on his shoes.

“Truth.”

“Who else were you friends with in 7th grade?” you frowned in confusion, your eyes locking with Jaebum’s.

“7th grade?”

“Yes Jaebum. Who else were you friends with?” he repeated. There was a tone in his voice, a sort of hitch, but you couldn’t put a finger on it.

“I had just met Jinyoung I think… and Dae-Jung. Dae-Jung was new that year. Why?” Jaebum’s voice turned somber as he recalled the first time he had met Dae-Jung.

“L-look, I don’t have any money on m-me! P-please jus-st let me go.” Dae-Jung had stuttered, the school’s notorious badboy’s hand wrapped tightly around his throat. “P-please! You’re h-hurting me!” he choked as the bully tightened his grip.

“Seo-Jun let him go!” Jaebum had yelled from the end of the hallway, his little 11 year old feet carrying him towards the crowd gathered in front of the boy’s locker room.

“Ah if it isn’t Im Jaebum… Here to save the day I presume?” Seo-Jun mocked, dropping Dae-Jung back onto his feet.

“Leave the guy alone hyung.” Jaebum growled, his chest rising and falling with every angry breath he took.

“Mind your own business Im.” Seo-Jun warned, stepping forward so he was chest to chest with the younger. Despite Seo-Jun’s towering height, the spite seeping through Jaebum’s demeanor was enough to have him looking like the larger of the two.

“He is my business. Dae-Jung-ah, we’re friends aren’t we?” he called over Seo-Jun’s shoulder to which he received a fearful series of nods in return. “See? Now leave my dear friend alone Seo-Jun or we’ll have a repeat of last time.”

Seo-Jun seemed to hesitate as he recalled the last time he found himself in a fight with Jaebum before his scowl deepened and he took a small step back. He turned his chin slightly, his eyes wandering over Dae-Jung’s crumpled figure in distaste before brushing past Jaebum.

“You’re lucky prince charming is here to save you this time Dae-Jung-ah,” Seo-Jun called over his shoulder as his patsies scrambled to his sides, “but you won’t be so lucky next time.”

Once he rounded the corner, Jaebum quickly aided Dae-Jung to his feet, brushing the imaginary dust off the guy’s shoulder before smiling warmly at him. “You okay?” he asked sympathetically, bending down a little so he could get a glimpse of Dae-Jung’s down-turned face.

“Yeah.” he mumbled timidly, his hands playing nervously with the hem of his shirt.

“Hey,” Jaebum chuckled, pulling Dae-Jung’s chin up so that they were eye level, “I’m not like Seo-Jun I promise. You don’t owe me anything okay? Seo-Jun’s been terrorising the new students since we were kids but I won’t let him do it to you. We’re friends now, right?”

Dae-Hyun seemed slightly taken aback by the question but quickly recovered, a bright, grateful, smile adorning his peculiarly pretty features. “Yeah. We’re friends.”

“No reason.” the voice quickly quipped before calling your name once again.

“Truth.”

“Yah~ At this point we might as well call the game truth or truth.” he whined but continued with his question nonetheless. “When was the first time you met Dae-Jung (Y/N)-ah?”

“M-me?” you paused, taking a moment to really remember, “It was the same day as Jaebum… He brought him to the canteen to meet me.”

“And what was your first impression of him?” the voice urged and you continued, too far lost in your memories.

“He was cute. I instantly felt the need to protect him with my life. He was like the younger brother I never had and we instantly clicked. But then- then he kissed me during that study session at his house and I immediately knew I had given him the wrong impression… I ran out with the excuse that I’d promised to make my mom dinner tonight and the next morning…” you sucked in a sharp breath, “he was announced missing. I never knew what happened after I left him that night but I regret running out on him like that.”

A wave of… relief rushed over Jaebum as he realised it was never in your intentions to break the promise you had made with him. He suddenly regretted the way he had reacted when he found out; he should have let you explain yourself but instead he cut you off and shut you out.

“I can’t imagine what Dae-Jung must have felt after I left him that night… We all assumed he would make his reappearance after a couple of days… But when he didn’t, I felt even more guilty.” You wiped desperately at your cheeks, trying to hide how weak you suddenly felt.

“You should.” the voice stated boredly, shocking you, “He went out looking for you after you left, afraid something had happened to you. He wanted to apologise. But he couldn’t find you and instead found himself thrown into the back of a white van and whisked off to god knows where to serve as some sick bastard’s little bitch. Can you imagine what that was like for him?”

There was a crackling before a familiar voice came through the speakers. This time it wasn’t the distorted-horror-movie-voice kind of familiar—this was the I’ve-spoken-to-this-person-more-times-than-I-can-count kind of familiar.

“I can.”

“Dae-Jung?!” you jolted to your feet, your eyes frantically flickering around the room. Soon Jaebum was at your side, his hand curling protectively around yours as you stood side-by-side. You nearly tore your hand away at the sudden contact but forced it in place, the familiar sensation comforting you.

Instantly all the questions made sense. The first question for Jaebum really was a ‘warm up question’… but the next few? Your first kiss… It was him. Ah you should have known! No one else knew about it—only Dae-Jung and yourself were in the house that night. Your tattoo… You had promised Dae-Jung you would both get your first together and you had gotten it on the anniversary of his disappearance in honour of the promise you had made with him. Then asking Jaebum who else he was friends with in 7th grade… He probably wanted to see if he remembered him. And the last question… Well; that was the show closer.

“Hello dear (Y/N), Jaebum. Miss me?” you were shaking and Jaebum must have felt it because his fingers wove themselves between yours to give your hand a firm squeeze.

“What- what happened to you?” Jaebum asked carefully, his eyes large and alarmed.

“I was left for dead; that’s what happened.” he deadpanned—you could practically feel him roll his eyes.

“But we couldn’t do anything!” you insisted, your voice wavering.

“Sure you could have. You could have done a lot of things to prevent all of this (Y/N)-ah. You could have kissed me back; you could have at least liked me back; you could have stopped yourself from falling for Im Jaebum; OR you could have simply stopped yourself from running the minute you found out how I felt about you!” he growled viciously making you cower slightly, salty tears making an appearance on your cheeks.

“We were eleven Dae-Jung! I-” you were forced to pause as a sob wretched its way through your throat, “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t- I didn’t know you were going to run after me!”

“I was in love with you. What were you expecting?”

“Please Dae-Jung-ah,” you pleaded, “please understand I had no control over what happened to you after I ran out your door!”

“Dae-Jung-ah please let us go.” Jaebum begged, trying desperately to steer the conversation a different direction. You were literally sobbing and he wanted desperately to stop it.

“Now why would I do that when I haven’t even gotten the chance to say hi?” a loud click had you both whipping around to the door before it inched open revealing a lanky figure, his hair in a dishevelled mess and the glasses on the bridge of his nose practically consuming his face, but you’d recognise those light hazel eyes anywhere.

You placed yourself slightly behind Jaebum as Dae-Jung made himself fully visible beneath the blinding white light. You gasped at how skinny he looked. The skin around his cheeks—which used to be full and red—was now tight against his cheekbones, accentuating the sharpness of them; the muscles around his forearms—which were fairly developed due to the hours he spent playing DOTA—were now near non-existent; and the shirt he wore—which years ago he probably would have filled quite well—hung loosely around his shoulders, barely touching his upper body in any places.

You felt your body shake as another loud sob wracked through you. “I’m so sorry.” you whispered, taking a step forward to reach out to him, only to have Jaebum gently push you back behind him.

Dae-Jung shrugged, not really affected by your apology before stepping further into the room. “Sorry isn’t going to do much now is it.” he chuckled bitterly before smirking over at you. “Go grab the panel Jaebum wrote on honey.”

You furrowed your eyebrows but didn’t question him, turning around to pull at the panel you’d been dying to see the other side of.

“Go on then, read off it. I know you want to.” he was smirking now, as though he knew something you didn’t—which was probably true, all things considered.

“(Y/F/N).” you read quietly, void of emotion from exhaustion.

“Exactly!” he clapped delightedly, “Which means~ the two of you are still in love with each other!”

“Which also means,” he muttered darkly, the shift in his tone bringing the hairs on the back of your necks to attention, “you’ll both die with the one you love. As will I.” with that, he kick the door shut just as a loud hissing noise resonated within the room.

“Chlorine!” Jaebum coughed as you noticed the yellow-green gas seep into the room through the air vent. In a flash he was grabbing the white panel from your hands and whacking it harshly against Dae-Jung’s temple, rendering him unconscious. You could feel the effects of the chlorine begin to set in as you struggled to breathe, only managing shallow, forced breaths.

“Come on!” Jaebum croaked, grabbing onto your hand as he stuffed the panel into the space between the door and the wall, pushing urgently through his scratchy coughing. Eventually you pushed through the stinging in your eyes and went to help him, using whatever amounts of energy left to pry the door open.

Just as you were about to lose hope, Jaebum rammed his shoulder into it, snapping the door open with a thwack! before grabbing onto your waist and stumbling out the door with you in his arms. You both gasped for air as the chlorine slowly diffused through the warehouse. It took you both a while to regain what breath you could, but once you did, you were up onto your feet, running as far away from the room as possible in the direction of the exit.

“My car!” you yelled frantically before pulling Jaebum towards your parked pickup.

Just as you were about to get into the driver’s seat, you were shoved out of the way, a distressed Jaebum ordering you to get into the passenger seat.

“I know this place better than you. I’ll get us out of here faster than you could.” with that he grabbed the keys from your outstretched palm and before you knew it you were speeding out of the compound and away from the beaten down building.

Neither of you spoke for a few moments, trying to catch your breaths past the burning in your chest before you reached over and grabbed Jaebum’s hand in yours and pulling it straight to your chest. A soft gulp sounded from the boy beside you but he didn’t protest as you curled yourself around his hand, hugging it tightly as though you were afraid he would disappear.

“It’s okay,” he whispered soothingly, his thumb rubbing circles into the hand holding it captive, “it’s okay. We’re okay.”

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice quite yet.

“Can you call the police? Tell them what happened and tell them to check the warehouse for Dae-Jung’s body.” you immediately whimpered at the mention of the hazel eyed boy but did as he said, not once letting go of his hand.

By the time you got to the station, you found out that your parents and friends had both filed a missing person’s report for the both of you and that they had sent out a team to check out the warehouse.

Not even when they were questioning you about what happened did you let go of Jaebum’s large hands and not once did he try to pull away. Once they’d gotten what they needed and called your respective parents, you were directed into an interrogation room to wait for them.

There, Jaebum immediately pulled you into his chest, hugging you so tight you could barely breath. But you didn’t care. You hugged him back just as tightly, sobbing into his chest in relief as he cried into your shoulder—neither of you caring about how unguarded you were being, and instead embracing the comfortableness the both of you had been missing the past few months apart.

“I’m so sorry.” he sniffled into your shoulder, “You were right, I have changed, and I’m so sorry I ever thought you weren’t enough for me—because you are—and I never ever want to let you go again. I’m so sorry.”

You chuckled through your tears, pushing him away so you could look at his face. Red, blotching, and stained in tears, yet you couldn’t help but still find him absolutely stunning. You softly brushed the tears away from his eyes before pressing your lips firmly against his, sighing in solace at the warmth bubbling within your chest.

“I love you.” you murmured, stroking his cheek.

“I love you too.” he sighed, leaning his temple against yours.

You were forced apart when you heard the door burst open, a stampede of your parents and closest friends falling through the small entryway to smother the both of you in hugs and cries of relief.

It wasn’t until the detective you had both spoken to came rushing into the room, a troubled expression painted across his rugged features. “We found everything you told us we would.” he told you monotonously, though his intonation told you there was more.

“But?”

“But we didn’t find Dae-Jung.”

I Just Want to Tell the Whole World

[ This is because of this post: Screaming Foxes and @sterektrashbag



The one thing Derek Hale hates almost as much as, fire, bad memories associated with fire, certain Argent family members, Peeps, and Peter are surprises.



Surprises are people’s way of making up for the fact that they have no idea what you actually want for ‘enter holiday here’, and obviously don’t know enough about you to be called a friend, anyway. There are no exceptions to this rule. Surprise parties, surprise babies, surprise dates, surprise, you’re dating a murderer.

No, Derek made no exceptions. Surprises are not welcome in his life.


Then, Stiles shows up in his loft on Christmas eve, smiling brightly and already babbling about seeing his breath outside, and Santa hats are a must, and he’s baked something, Derek can smell it, and there’s this box in his arms, and he smells amazing—not just like cookies, but something better, something special and—

and Derek just screams.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Bansuri must've been unusually horny when she SOMEHOW forced that baby into Forte who's afraid of bearing one. I mean, you know cause since Bansuri takes the mother's role. But Forte is a big guy. Bigger than Piccolo. He has no excuse to be afraid

I think it was Forte who was being the more horny one (he’s also a little weird in human standards). During those moments he could’ve forgotten about the consequences so, yeah.
Also, some of his cowardice from his childhood stayed with him as he grew up (especially the memory of his dad spitting up his brother’s egg, that really freaked him out), so he has a little bit of reason to be scared.

anonymous asked:

DR3 IF prompt: Ryota's kind of having trouble reconciling Junko's heartless soldier with Makoto's clearly smitten girlfriend.

A/N I sometimes forget to post these. But not to worry, his is still my OTP.

Tamed Soldier - Naekusaba where Ryota’s trying to reconcile just how much Mukuro has changed

When Ryota saw that the class of 78 had escaped, he expected that the Future Foundation would rescue them. He expected that the SHSL Soldier would still be with them as well whom he had already been acquainted with before. And so he also expected that he’d cross paths with her again sooner or later.

What he didn’t expect though was just how different she would be.

He’s not sure if it’s because he’s repressed most of his memories associated with Junko or if he just never had much interaction with Mukuro before, maybe it’s a mix of both. He remembered just a few moments regarding her and from what he knew, the only time she showed any emotion was that time she watched his anime. Other than that, she’d kept a stoic face in the background unless addressed by her twin. That’s why Ryota had expected her to be no different now. Even if she had turned down despair, that didn’t mean her personality would change that much, right?

Oh, how wrong he was.

“Ahhh!” As if on cue, Makoto had slipped and was about to fall for the flight of stairs.

But Mukuro had caught him before any accident could occur. “Be careful.”

He let out a sigh of relief and then smiled brightly at her. “Thanks, Mukuro!”

And this was one of those weird moments where she’d get all flustered and stammered, “Y-You’re welcome.”

Ryota expected a coldhearted killing machine but instead he just kept seeing like… this. He knew of Fenrir and of how they were wolves but as she was right now, all he could think of was the image of a puppy who was overly attached to its owner. While she still wore a stoic face most of the time, her mask would always break around Makoto. And how often was that? More often than not considering that she was only allowed to roam freely so long as he was with her. Although judging by how attached she was to him, he thought that she’d probably still stay by his side even without the probation.

“Hello there, Ryota.” Makoto naturally greeted him when their eyes met. “You’ve been staring for a while without saying anything. Is something the matter?”

Ryota’s eyes briefly glanced at Mukuro who had already placed her blank face on. He noted how her hand was still on Makoto’s shoulder and how he didn’t even flinch under her touch. That just showed how much he trusted her and of course, it also showed just how much protective of him she was. 

“No, it’s nothing.” He shook his head and answered weakly, “Just got lost in thought for a bit.”

“I know what you mean. It happens to me too.” Makoto chuckled lightly. “Well then we’ll be heading off now.” He bid him farewell.

Mukuro didn’t utter a word but she did nod a bit before walking off with her partner. Ryota couldn’t help but notice that they were an inch closer than necessary. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to watch their retreating figures but as he did so, something happened. He saw Makoto say something he couldn’t quite here but saw the telltale blush on the face of Mukuro.

And Ryota couldn’t help but wonder just what happened to the emotionless  soldier that he knew.

Have You Seen This Painting of A Hallway?

(By Wdalphin / NoSleep)

I got this package in the mail from my dad: brown paper wrapping, large but flat, with the word “FRAGILE” written on it in black ink. When I unwrapped it, it was this big, acrylic painting, framed in some sort of bronze-gilded plaster.

The painting itself was of this long hallway full of doors, kind of like you’d see in a fancy hotel. The walls had edging about halfway up, the upper part was painted sort of an off white while the lower half was a crimson red that blended into the carpeting. Between each door was an up-turned light, as well as on the far wall at the end, where the corridor seemed to connect to another hallway running perpendicular to it, disappearing around a corner.

It was really amazing detail, though I wouldn’t call it life-like by any means. Just the sheer amount of intricate pieces to each aspect of the scene showed that the artist really paid attention to every little thing, like somewhere in the world was this hallway, and you could stand in it and hold the painting up in front of you and if it weren’t for the border and the clearly stylized art, you wouldn’t be able to tell where the canvas ended and the real world began.

I called him up and thanked him immediately.

“But where’d you find this?”

“I got it at an auction.”

I kinda figured as much.

So I hung up the painting in my office, just behind my desk, which I realized later wasn’t the best place for it because in order to actually look at it, I had to swivel completely around, but there wasn’t anywhere better really, and once I’d gotten it hung up, I felt less willing to take it back down, so I just left it there. It kind of hung out over my shoulder and watched me work, and every now and then I’d turn around and stare at it and get entranced by it, feeling like I could get up and put my hands in the frame and climb into the painting as if the frame were a window.

Of course, I wouldn’t be writing this if something weird didn’t happen as a result of the painting.

We had a couple friends over, Marc and Sabina, and Marc and I went into my office when the women-folk started talking about knitting, which has become my wife’s new favorite hobby. I went and sat down at my laptop to find a video I had been telling Marc about, and Marc wandered over and started admiring the painting.

“Where’d you get that?”

“My dad bought it at an auction and gave it to me.”

“It’s creepy.”

“It’s not that creepy. It’s kind of… I don’t know.”

“Hypnotic?”

“Yeah.”

I turned around to look at it with him while the video loaded. He got up close and was running his finger over the canvas, feeling the raised acrylic, and I just let my gaze wander over all the details again.

“Huh, I didn’t notice that before.”

“What?”

“At the end of the hall, there’s some sort of light coming from around the corner, and it’s casting a shadow on the floor.”

I got up and looked closer, because I really hadn’t spent a lot of time studying the far end of the hallway. There was definitely some yellow and some darker colors making what looked like the shadow of a person coming from around the corner. I even reached out and touched it to make sure it wasn’t some trick of the light in the study making it just look like there was this shadow in the painting, but I felt the paint and sure enough it was actually there in the painting.

“See what I mean?” Marc said, “Creepy.”

I genuinely felt weirded out by it. It was one of those moments where you start thinking, Why didn’t I notice this earlier? Was it there to notice?

A couple days later, I was working on a project in my study, and it was like 9:30 at night, and I just couldn’t focus, so I spun around in my chair to look at the painting and I felt this sudden vertigo effect, like the ground wasn’t there and I had to grab my chair to keep from tumbling into emptiness.

You wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t looked at the painting a hundred times like I had. The hallway was long, with exactly six doors. I remember, because I counted them the first day. three on the left, three on the right, each with a little shiny, metal doorknob.

Only now there were seven doors. Three on the left, four on the right. It didn’t make sense. Everything looked proportionally exactly the same, and the far end of the corridor was just as far away, and yet there was a fourth door in the right side of the hallway, with its little metal doorknob. I don’t even know which door was the fourth door, that’s how well it blended in, I just know that there were four doors where once there were three.

“What the hell is going on?”

I turned away in my chair and back to check several times and make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, but the number of doors remained constant.

I called my dad again and I asked him, “Is this a trick painting you sent me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it keeps changing. I can see it changing.”

“Not as far I know. It was just one in a bunch I picked up all at the same auction.”

After I got off the phone I took the painting down and checked the back for some some of mechanical or digital hocus pocus, but it was all soft canvas so I left it on the floor behind my office chair with the painting facing the wall because the thought of it was freaking me out.

The next day I pulled my wife into my office and held the painting up so she could see it because she hadn’t had a chance to before.

“How many doors are there?” I asked.

She looked it over for a moment. “Seven.”

“When I first got this, there were six.”

She just looked at me like I was being a goofball. “Okay, so which one wasn’t there before?”

“I have no idea.”

“You don’t know which door magically appeared?” and she laughed and gave me a kiss and went back into the other room.

It gets worse.

The next time I chatted with Marc, I told him about the extra door in the painting.

“Are you sure there weren’t seven doors to begin with?”

“Well, I would swear I counted six.”

“Well, if another one shows up, at least Melissa counted seven, and can confirm it then. You know what you should do? You should take a photo of the painting so you can prove it if anything else changes.”

What a great idea, so I got my phone and took a photo of the painting.

Two days went by. Nothing.

On the third day, I walked into my office and there was a man staring at me. Well, I mean… it wasn’t… I can’t say that it was a man or a woman. Hell, I can’t say that it was human. There was a shape at the end of the hallway in my painting. It was oddly lacking in the detail that the rest of the painting had, like someone had hurriedly painted it on. I even ran my hand over it to make sure it wasn’t fresh, that someone hadn’t actually come in and painted over my painting to drive me crazy.

It was really there.

And the look of it scared me more than anything else, changing painting included. I wish I could do it justice with words, but the best I can describe it is that it was human-ish, with legs and arms, but it seemed squat, or hunched, and lopsided, like someone had slapped a blurry Quasimodo onto an otherwise beautiful painting. You couldn’t see the details of its face, but you could see shading on it, defining really warped features. I was almost glad that there wasn’t more detail to it, except that it left just enough to the imagination to give one nightmares.

But I had proof! Here was proof that the painting was changing. So I brought up the file on my laptop to show my wife for comparison, only when I did, the figure was in the photo I took too!

At no point did I start questioning my sanity about all this. Something unnatural and terrifying was going on, so I took the painting out of the house and set it on the curb where we put our trash for pickup. I was so done with that painting.

Or so I thought.

The next evening, when I got home from work, it was gone from the curb. I figured someone had seen it and taken it home, and I waved my hands and said, “Good, now it’s someone else’s problem.” I went in, played with daughters, had dinner, put them to bed, and after watching a show with my wife, went into my office to check my email.

No, the painting wasn’t back on the wall. I made sure of that the moment I walked in the door.

But I got a message from Marc, asking if the painting had changed anymore, and I told him about the creepy new addition and also how I had gotten rid of the painting.

“Oh man, that sounds cool. I wish I’d gotten a chance to see it.”

“Well, I can send you the photo I took of it.”

“Cool.”

So I opened the image file.

The thing in the painting had raised its arms.

Before, you could only barely make out the arms hanging at its sides, but now both arms were raised up over its head, and its fingers were spread apart like it was waving hello at me. I think it was waving hello at me.

I zoomed in, as best as I could without pixelating the image, and the shaded contours of the face seemed stretched into a grin.

Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

I sent Marc the file, but the connection kept fucking up, so I put it in a folder on my dropbox account and gave him access to it.

“The file’s corrupted.” He texted me.

I tried to open it as well, but he was right. Every time I copied the image file, somehow it got corrupted.

“It must be the spooky magic.” Marc joked.

“This is no joke. I’m freaking out here.”

“Delete the file if it’s scaring you so bad.”

So I deleted the file.

But it gnawed at me, you know? The painting was still changing, in horrible, terrifying ways, seemingly acknowledging my observation of it, and now it was gone. But if it was gone, why should it matter? If something unholy happens, it’s the problem of whoever has the painting now, right? And they’ll see it changing too, won’t they?

“Oh shit.”

It was two days later, and I was organizing a folder of documents and had accidentally deleted a couple I hadn’t meant to. I went into the Windows recycling bin and –you guessed it– there was the image file along with the documents.

I had to look. I was trembling with dread at the thought of it, but when something so surreal happens to you, you have to witness it and see it through to the end.

I recovered the file and opened it.

The walls of the hallway seemed to be melting. The partition separating the red from the off-white was lower than it had been before, and drooped in places. The ridge on the lights looked like they were peeling off. The carpet seemed less crimson and more reddish brown.

And the figure had taken several steps down the corridor toward the viewer’s perspective. More details had become defined: hair hanging off its head, long and black like it had been painted with a fine-tipped brush, the eyes were little more than dull black points under the shading of the brow. The grin came with teeth, uneven and fat, like those of a child more than an adult. Its arms were extended out on either side of it, touching both walls. One foot was ahead of the other, as if I had caught it mid-step in a game of red light/green light.

I realized I was panting and shaking as I looked at it. It was really hard to breathe, an anxiety attack. The painting was going to make me pass out, just from looking at a digital photo of it.

Quickly, I closed the image to calm myself down, but that suddenly brought forth the thought, What if it progresses every time I look away? The only way to stop it is to keep looking! and I opened the file again.

No change. Oh– no, wait, that wasn’t a new change, I had noticed it before, but it hadn’t dawned on me. One of the doors was open. There was a dim blue light coming from the room inside, moonlight I thought. And just outside the threshold of the door, there was an object lying on the floor.

I zoomed in for better detail.

It was a little, yellow, stuffed lion with a scraggly, orange mane. A child’s toy. Of all the details, the melting hallway, the grinning fiend with arms wide open, the blue light from the open doorway, it was the innocent nature of that little toy lion that filled me with the most dread.

My wife came into the office.

“Come kiss the girls goodnight.”

I went into their darkened room, where they were both wrapped up in blankets in their bunks, each hugging a half dozen stuffed animals and looking cute as could be. My little darlings. I love them both so much.

I kissed my oldest goodnight. She kissed me back and hugged her little pillowpet with the built in night light. It glowed through a variety of colors.

The little one in the lower bunk gave me one of her super strong hugs where she presses her cheek against mine and squeezes for all she’s worth.

“I love you, baby.” I told her.

“Can you get my Simba?”

I looked around. “Where’d you leave it?”

“Over there.” She pointed to the closet. The door was open, and her toy lay on the floor just inside.

Simba, her little, yellow, stuffed lion with the scraggly, orange mane.

Seeing it lying there, just past the threshold of the closet door, while the dim glow of my oldest daughter’s night light faded from red to purple to blue, I felt my heart rise up in my chest. The closet was just a closet. I could see it was just a closet. There were clothes on hangers and bags with toys and blocks in them. They were right there. And yet, as I looked at the stuffed lion lying on the floor, waiting for me, I felt as if I could see carpeting on the floor inside the closet, even though there was none. Carpeting, not in my vision, but in my imagination. And maybe if I went in and shut the door, I’d find that the walls beyond those clothes had a wooden partition, red below, off-white above.

And maybe there was something hunched and terrible shambling its way toward us even as I stood there staring at that toy.

I walked, briskly, trying not to look half as frightened as I was, snatched up Simba and shut the closet door. My breathing was heavy, like I’d just run a mile, and I struggled to avoid gasping for breath as I tried to calm myself down.

“Hey, did that poster fall down?” I asked nobody in particular, then pretended I was trying to adjust a cat poster that had been on the floor by their dresser for months, and shoved the heavy dresser over so that it partially blocked the closet door.

“Here’s Simba, sweety.” I handed the lion to my littlest, gave her a quick hug and kiss, and wished them both goodnight before rushing back to my office.

The painting had changed, as I knew it would. The open door was closed, the toy gone from the floor, the hallway was dimly lit with yellow light from the melting lights again. But the thing, that not-quite-human fiend, was standing right outside the now shut door, its body turned to face it with both hands pressed up against the door itself like it was running its hands down it, caressing it, and its head turned toward me, still grinning that awful, frightening grin full of gnashed, crooked teeth.

Oh God how close had it been? No, it’s just a closet! The hallway is not there. It’s not real. None of this is real.

I’ve put up signs around the neighborhood, knocked on doors, asked everyone I know and many I don’t if they know who took the painting. I need to find it and get it back. I want to tear it, shred it in my hands, throw it in a fire and watch it burn to ashes. Jesus God in Heaven, I hope it didn’t end up in some landfill.

2

Peter Jackson Wins Best Director for ROTK (2004)

Peter Jackson: There is a weird feeling just as they open the envelope that you hope your name isn’t going to be read out. Then when it is, it’s like one of those weird sound-effects moments when all of a sudden all of the sound seems to be a million miles away. You can’t think of anything but hoping you are not going to trip over.
Elijah Wood: It was particularly wonderful to see Peter Jackson up there for Best Director. That was the one we felt was the most profound and we wanted most to win. It’s him, it’s his vision, it took thousands of artists and passion and love to make it come together, but it was his vision we were all following.

Someone I can relate to

So, I played Arkham Origins. I loved that Batmonster, and that whole speech Joker made was very haunting and disturbing. This took longer than I intended, but whatever. It was supposed to be one of those “Holy shi-” moments, but it turned into some weird “C'mon Batsy, give me a hug!” moment. Sorry
 

siriuslyremusexual  asked:

i'm sorry you are unhappy right now, and i just want you to remember that you are a wonderful, incredibly talented person, and deserve all the joy and smiles and all of the amazing things in life. if you ever feel like talking it all out, i'm here for you. but maybe writing some fluff will indeed help, so: "I crashed a wedding and need to pretend to be your date" AU with scorbus maybe?

Thank you, sweetie for the fluff prompt and the nice words. You’re amazing <3! ———–

Scorpius watched as this devastatingly gorgeous guy slid into the seat next to him. Scorpius had never been so happy to be sitting at the single’s table. “Hi, I need to pretend to be your date,” the man said, causing Scorpius to blink at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“I might have crashed this wedding a little,” the man explained, leaning in a whispering to Scorpius. 

Scorpius eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not an ex of the bride’s, are you?” 

Albus laughed and shook his head. “If anything I’d be an ex of the groom, but no, I’m not. Don’t even know them actually.”

Scorpius put his elbow on the table and rested his cheek in his hand. “Care to explain?”

“Do you promise not to laugh?” the man asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Nope,” Scorpius replied, letting the “p” pop cheerfully. He was enjoying himself, which was more than he had thought.

The man made a face at him but continued anyway. “Okay, so there’s this cake…”

Scorpius immediately burst out laughing. “Seriously?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Are you going to listen or not?”

“Sorry, sorry, carry on,” Scorpius said, waving him on with his unoccupied hand. “So there’s a cake.”

“Best cake I’ve ever had in my life,” the man told him, getting a dreamy look on his face. “It was at my brother James’ wedding and it was to fucking die for. Like so good you wanted to throw up just so you could taste it again.”

Scorpius wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

The man pressed his lips together at the interruption. “Anyways, I’ve had dreams about this fucking cake. I’ve been unable to get it out of my head. So today I was coming home from work and I caught a glimpse of their van - Constellation Creations - which is a fucking mouthful. I’ve looked into it before and the place only does wedding cakes, they don’t have like a bakery or anything. You can only get their stuff at weddings. So I followed the van here, went and rented a suit from a place down the street, and decided to crash. So mind if I pretend to be your date so people aren’t wondering why no one knows me? Just long enough for me to have a piece of cake.”

Scorpius stared at him for a moment. “You did all this just to get a piece of cake?”

The man shrugged. “It’s really good cake.”

Scorpius snorted. “Scorpius Malfoy,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand. “I figure you should know your date’s name.”

The man beamed at him excitedly as he shook his hand. “Albus Potter.” 

“You’re a strange one, Albus Potter.”

“And you’re a lifesaver, Scorpius Malfoy.”

“Oh, by the way,” Scorpius said, standing up. “This deal requires you dance with me.”

Albus laughed and stood up. “I think I can manage that.”

—————

Scorpius was so entirely screwed. He had never enjoyed himself so much as he did that evening with Albus. They’d danced, eaten, drank some extremely expensive champagne, and joked around with each other. He hadn’t expected himself to like Albus so much and yet he couldn’t stop looking at him.

Scorpius was pressed flush against him as they swayed to “Endless Love.” It was nice, better than nice, with his cheek pressed against Albus’. He could have stayed there forever. “I think they’re going to cut the cake soon,” Albus whispered excitedly, ruining Scorpius stupid fantasy that they were together and everything was normal. Well, it had to come to an end at some point. 

Scorpius pulled away and plastered a smile onto his face. “Only have to put up with me for a few more moments,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Albus smiled in return. “It’s been an absolute privilege putting up with you,” he responded, making Scorpius blush. 

Scorpius bit his bottom lip and considered telling Albus the truth. Instead, he leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Should I tell you a secret?”

“Yes please.”

“The people who do the cakes do have a bakery,” he murmured softly. “It’s called Constellation Cupcakes.”

“What?” Albus said, pulling away with his jaw dropped. “Why didn’t that come up when I googled them?”

Scorpius shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Oh my god, you’re the best!” Albus said, pulling Scorpius into a hug. 

Scorpius melted against him and closed his eyes. He really needed to get a hold of himself. “I have to go,” he said quietly, stepping back. “Enjoy your cake.”

“Wait, no, you can’t go!” Albus said quickly, grabbing Scorpius by the wrist. “Scor, come on.”

“The evening is winding down anyway,” Scorpius said, wishing in that moment that he was someone a little more bolder. He hoped that Albus would take the initiative and kiss him, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Scorpius slid away so their hands clasped for a moment, giving Al’s hand a small squeeze. “Have a good night.”

Albus held onto his hand. “Wait, at least stay for some cake. It’ll change your life, I promise.”

Scorpius had to keep from laughing hysterically. “Thanks but I’ll be fine. Good night, Albus. It was really something meeting you.”

“Thanks for helping me out,” Albus said, looking down at their joined hands as if reluctant to let go. “You’re incredible.”

Scorpius blushed and pulled away. “Better go grab a slice of cake before it’s all gone.”

That was all it took for Albus to spin around and head over to the cake table without a second thought. Scorpius stared after him for a moment, hating himself for being such a coward. He took the opportunity to slip away quietly. 

——————-

Scorpius tried to forget Albus in the week that followed. He tried to play it off like just one of those weird things, just a small, perfect moment in his life that couldn’t be duplicated. Albus hadn’t shown up at the bakery and meant he was probably over the cake. Maybe it hadn’t lived up to the memory of the first one. 

He should have just told Albus that he had baked the cake. He shouldn’t have left a trail of breadcrumbs for Albus to follow, hoping to be found like a maiden in a tower. If Albus had felt something that night, he would have spoken up about it.

 You didn’t, an unhelpful voice in the back of his head reminded him. Scorpius ignored it and continued working on his Italian buttercream frosting. 

The little bell on the door dinged as someone entered. “Just a minute,” Scorpius called out, wiping the flour from his cheek, trying to look a little more presentable for the customers. 

“Oh you bastard,” a familiar voice spoke up. 

Scorpius eyes flickered up to find Albus standing in the doorway. Albus looked completely different in real life. So effortlessly cool in his black and white stripped jumper and skinny jeans. Scorpius swallowed thickly and glanced away. “You found me,” he said, feeling his heartbeat race. 

“Been looking for you for a week,” Albus informed him, walking over to the counter. “You have no online presence at all. No twitter, no instagram, not even a facebook!” 

Scorpius shuffled awkwardly. “I have a facebook page for the bakery,” he said defensively. “I just don’t have a personal one.”

Albus huffed indignantly. “I thought someone with a name like Scorpius Malfoy would be easier to find.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Scorpius asked, his stomach dropping. He was so nervous his hands were shaking and he was about to ruin the frosting he’d been working most the day on. 

“I was going to make myself feel better about not being able to find you,” Albus informed him. “Thought a cupcake might cheer me up.”

“And why were you looking for me?” Scorpius asked, biting his bottom lip, risking another glance up at Albus. 

“Because I’m an idiot,” Albus said, leaning across the counter. “Who should have asked for your phone number and a date and a million other things that I wanted to ask. But the evening went so fast and I was having such a good time that I forgot all of it. Then you were leaving and I thought maybe you had just been playing the part.”

“I wasn’t,” Scorpius interjected quickly, just in case there were any lingering doubts.

“I know that,” Albus said, smiling at him and making Scorpius’s stomach fill with butterflies. “So, can I have your number?”

“No,” Scorpius said, shaking his head. Albus face fell and he straightened up, looking embarrassed. Scorpius finally found the courage he’d been looking for the other night. “Not until I do this.” 

Scorpius reached over the counter and pulled Albus forward into a kiss. Their teeth clacked against each other for a moment as Albus fell forward in surprise. Scorpius smoothed the kiss into something a bit gentler. “You had me going there for a moment,” Albus murmured against Scorpius’ lips.

 Scorpius smiled and then kissed him again. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“I’ll forgive you,” Albus told him, sliding his fingers into Scorpius’ hair and slotting their mouthes together again. Scorpius shivered and clung to Albus’ shoulders. “Fuck, you taste like frosting.”

Scorpius laughed. “That tends to happen, yeah.”

“I’m going to get diabetes just from kissing you,” Albus said, vaulting himself over the counter and coming to stand next to Scorpius.

 “Planning on doing that a lot, then?” Scorpius asked, looking up at Albus hopefully.

Albus wrapped his arms around Scorpius and tugged him forward. “Only every chance I get,” he responded, capturing Scorpius’ lips again. 

Eddie: Feliss had been a superhero the whole way through. On a normal film, it’s completely collaborative, but in this film, she had to constantly navigate around how my physical limitations affected the filming. So we got to this scene where we’re meant to be sitting in bed, and there was no dialogue on the page, and so we improvised the whole thing. There was a moment Feliss was looking at me and I said, “Thank you.” And she said, “Did you just say something?” And I go, “Thank you.” It was one of those weird moments when life and art meet.

Felicity: We had just had a McDonald’s beforehand, a cold McDonald’s, and there was a pervading smell of filet of fish.

Eddie: It did kind of kill the romance of the moment.

acebeatriz  asked:

Imagine Vader going viral after a video of him talking gets uploaded and people realize how fucking weird he is.

it had better be one of those really weird moments, when vader’s been doped up on twice the oxy he normally is, after they rolled him in for a check-up and discovered that his shoulder was infected and it had to be irrigated. like, go big or go home, expose your local sith lord.

there’s definitely mixed feelings on the subject, i think. it would raise more questions about where vader came from (did the emperor literally grow this guy in a hole or what?) and maybe some questions about mental stability (guys??? he keeps mentioning death??? uh?) and maybe a bit of an outcry to get vader discharged. maybe some leave. they heard he works 24/7, and maybe that’s not such a good thing.

vader, meanwhile, don’t give a fuck