or is that just his face and he can't help it

Basically, This is Basically What Every Dr. Phil Episode is Basically Like Basically
  • Dr. Phil: Hello, I am Doctor Philip, and today we'll be tackling an issue that is very widespread, but rarely spoken about. Gaming addiction. Now, I know many of you know at least one person in your life who plays video games, whether that be a child or, in some cases, a spouse.
  • Audience: *laughs*
  • Dr. Phil: But, when unregulated, gaming can lead to serious addiction. Today I have with me a mother who's home life has been torn apart as her very own son descended into gaming addiction.
  • Mother: *sniffing and wiping tears away* Hello, doctor. Will you cure my son?
  • Dr. Phil: Well, dear, that's... uhh. Let's just bring the boy out already.
  • *dramatic music plays*
  • Gamer: My name is Gregg, I'm 19 years old, I'm a gaming addict, and I don't give a f*ck.
  • Audience: *gasps*
  • Gamer: Yeah, I game for 19 to 20 hours a day and the other four hours I use for looking up sick gaming strats or beating it to anime porn. I once sucked off a dude because he offered me minecraft diamonds. I don't give a sh*t, I would've sucked him off even if he didn't have the diamonds.
  • Audience: *gasps louder*
  • Gamer: Do I hate women? Yes, I hate women. I've emailed Anita Sarkeesian my address. She knows where I am if she wants to fight me. Feminists, square the fuck up. People always ask why I don't do anything other than gaming. I ask them why don't they mind their own f*cking business. I don't think I have a problem. Dr. Phil can honestly eat my whole an*s.
  • Gamer: *walks out onto the stage*
  • Audience: *boos*
  • Gamer: F*ck all y'all! I don't give a f*ck! *flips off the audience*
  • Dr. Phil: Please take a seat, son.
  • Gamer: *sits very disrespectfully*
  • Mother: *starts bawling*
  • Dr. Phil: Son, do you think that was acceptable behavior?
  • Gamer: The only behavior I care about is the behavioral patterns for enemies in the S.T.A.L.K.E.R. series. I love video games: Master chief, Mario, uhm, Blinx the Cat... Blasto. Love those guys!
  • Audience: *boos*
  • Gamer: I don't care! You think I care! F*ck all y'all!
  • Dr. Phil: All these people are booing you, doesn't that make you feel bad?
  • Gamer: Are you deaf? Have I not articulated the fact that I absolutely 100% do not care about anything except for video games? I. DON'T. GIVE. A. F*CK.
  • Mother: He's always like this, there's no changing him. It didn't used to be this way... just *starts bawling harder*
  • Dr. Phil: I think there is a way to change him, and we'll find out more about that after these messages.
  • *Dr. Phil theme plays*
  • *The lights dim and every goes empty eyed and slack-jawed*
  • Gamer: Heh, this is weird. *nudges mom and whispers to her* Hey, we're getting paid for this, right. Hey, mom? ...Mom?
  • Mother: *completely unresponsive*
  • Dr. Phil: *completely unresponsive*
  • Audience: *completely unresponsive*
  • Gamer: Heh... this is REALLY weird. *looks around nervously*
  • Audience member: Hey!
  • Gamer: Huh?
  • Audience Member: I'm in the audience! Over here! My arms are strapped to the chair! You have to help me!
  • Gamer: *runs to the audience member*
  • Audience Member: Thank god, I thought I was the only one here left with any brains.
  • Gamer: *hastily undoing the straps* What the fuck is going on?
  • Audience Member: I don't know, but this definitely isn't Dr. Phil's show.
  • Gamer: Then what is it?
  • Audience Member: No clue, but we have to get out of here before the commercial breaks ends.
  • Gamer: *successfully undoes the straps*
  • Audience Member: C'mon! Let's go. *grabs the gamer by the arm*
  • Gamer: *resists* Wait a fucking minute. Why am I supposed to trust you?
  • Audience Member: Because I'm normal and everyone else is braindead if you haven't noticed.
  • Gamer: Yeah, but I'm not going anywhere until I know what's going on. Being on Dr. Phil is a huge opportunity for me to, y'know, advertise my brand. I'm a gamer if you haven't noticed.
  • Audience Member: Are you insane? Have you had a look around you? Does this anything happening right now seem normal to you? Who cares about your "brand". Do you even remember how you got here?
  • Gamer: Well... now that you mention, I can't really remember exactly.
  • Audience Member: Yeah, now let's get the fuck out of here.
  • *the gamer and audience member run through the back exit into the hallways*
  • *the Dr. Phil theme blares as the show returns from commercial break*
  • Gamer: My ears!
  • Audience Member: Move it! *jerks gamer's arm*
  • Gamer: Okay, calm down.
  • *the entire audience screams in unison*
  • Gamer: What the fuck is that!?
  • Audience Member: It's the reason we're running! Quick, in here!
  • *the duo duck into a cramped broom closest*
  • Gamer: Listen, you have to tell me what the fuck is going on right now!
  • Audience Member: Shh.
  • Gamer: Don't shush me!
  • Audience Member: *covers the gamer's mouth*
  • *agonized screaming and violently rumbling passes by the broom closest*
  • Gamer: Holy shit!
  • Audience Member: Stop yelling.
  • Gamer: How can I not yell when it sounds the gates of hell just passed by us!
  • Audience Member: You want it to turn back around and find us?
  • Gamer: Alright. I'll calm down... I'll. *start sobbing*
  • Audience Member: Please, please stop crying. You're too loud.
  • Gamer: I can't! I'm under a lot of stress!
  • Audience Member: You'll be dead if you don't shut the fuck.
  • Gamer: I never wanted any of this, I just wanted to go on Dr. Phil so people would recognize me on YouTube and I could become a popular Let's Player!
  • Audience Member: If you don't shut up right now, I'll-
  • *a snake bites the audience member's neck*
  • Audience Member: *eyes roll up*
  • Gamer: *screams like a baby*
  • *snakes slither under the closet door*
  • Gamer: *stumbles out of the closet and falls into hallway covered with snakes* Fuck me! Fuck me!
  • Gamer: *attempts to run away but falls beneath the snakes and into and empty void*
  • *agonized screaming echoes from all around*
  • Gamer: Am I in hell? I have to be in hell. You don't fall through a pool of snakes and wind up anywhere else but hell.
  • Dr. Phil: THERE IS NO HELL.
  • Gamer: Doc, is that you? If this isn't hell then where am I?
  • Dr. Phil: YOU'RE IN MY REALM SON. *Dr. Phil's face appears glowing in the distance, his eyes are empty sockets and his mouth hangs open*
  • Gamer: What the fuck are you?
  • Dr. Phil: I'M DOCTOR PHILIP.
  • Gamer: You're not Dr. Phil!
  • Dr. Phil: I NEVER SAID I WAS, SON. *a wall of gray human bodies lights up surrounding Dr. Phil's massive head, dr. phil's giant snake body slithers towards the gamer and opens its third eye* I'M DOCTOR PHILIP.
  • *the wall of bodies screams in unison as Dr. Phil devours the gamer*
  • *Dr. Phil theme plays loudly*
  • Dr. Phil: THE NEXT EPISODE IS STARTING. I'M LATE. *slithers into the wall of bodies and his snake body slowly transforms into a normal Dr. Phil's body*
  • Dr. Phil: *crawls onto the stage*
  • Dr. Phil: *dusts himself off* Woo, I went on quite an adventure.
  • Audience: *laughs*
  • Dr. Phil: I'm glad we can all find some time in our lives to laugh, but today's episode is covering something that is most certainly not a laughing matter. It's one of the most serious addictions striking America today and it's rarely talked about. I'm talking about people who love to pee on their mattresses and then pay people exorbitant amounts of money to suck their disgusting mattresses clean.
  • Audience: ... *someone clears their throat*
  • Dr. Phil: What's the matter?
  • Cameraguy: Spsss, Doc. That's not what the episode is about. It's about people with terrible gambling issues.
  • Dr. Phil: Oh, ah, fuck! Cut to commercial!
Altean broom closet

((CLAUSTRAPHOBIC LANCE fic under the cut with some Klangst and some cuddling))

He doesn’t remember what the fight is about, but he knows it’s petty. Something stupid that they both blew out of proportion.

“Do you ever just shut up!?” Keith yells, bringing a hand up to the bridge of his nose.

Lance folded his arms, “Do you ever stop saying stupid shit!?” he mocked, getting into Keith’s face with an angry step forward.

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off limits | 01 (m)

pairing: kim seokjin x reader
genre/warnings: smut, dirty talk, dom! Jin, just dirty, dirty sex that my heart can’t take
words: 11,158
summary: you’ve been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can’t ignore the sexual tension that’s simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…
note. the first of my requests!

» playlist | 01 | 02 |

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anonymous asked:

Hi, I don't know if you're taking prompts but I just read your scene about Andrew being there in Baltimore and it was amazing so I wanted to ask you to write something about Andreil + neck kisses, because I feel like this is a Very Important plot point that was not fully explored. Like maybe Andrew coming to terms with the fact that it's actually his favorite thing, and not knowing how to ask for it? Ugh I just finished rereading the series and I can't get enough of these stupid boys 🦊

(Thank you so muuuuch, and also I totally agree tbh)

He hates the way Neil always pauses to kiss at the hinge of his jaw on the way to his neck. It’s like a check point, the sweet press of a power button, and Neil doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it. He kisses with his whole face too, dragging down over Andrew’s bottom lip and chin and throat with his eyes closed, like he’s too in love with the experience to even look.

It’s killing Andrew. It’s stoppering the air in his lungs and giving him stomach ache with how bad he wants it. You like it. I like that you like it.

Andrew hates that he likes it, the vulnerability of that bared neck. It feels like a mistake every time he does it, but it also kind of feels like he’s taken the first shots of the night and he can’t stop, like the more he drinks the thirstier he gets. Neil is such a mistake, but he’s so so easy to make.

Kissing — like this, with the covers pushed down and Andrew on his side with his hand up Neil’s shirt — feels inevitable. He can’t stop pushing up Neil’s springy cowlicks and Neil can’t stop fumbling down to Andrew’s neck and sucking. It’s so humid and nervy-tense between them, like it’s never been, like Neil is singlehandedly dangling Andrew off of a rooftop.

Neil passes his tongue over that root of Andrew’s jaw and Andrew makes a noise so low that it sounds wounded. He just barely keeps his hands from forcing Neil closer, chasing that moment where Neil can’t help himself, circulating between mouth and face and neck before Andrew directs his attention elsewhere. He just wants to stay in that circuit with his hands open and his head tilted back.

Andrew’s fist must go too tight in Neil’s hair because he pulls back frowning, lips red.

“Sorry,” Neil says. “Carried away.” He looks troubled by this, like he’s not used to being carried away by things that aren’t arguments.

“No,” Andrew starts, and then stalls out. His hand is still in Neil’s hair. He doesn’t know how to ask for this; doesn’t even know if he wants to.

“No?” Neil repeats. “Okay.” He leans back and off of Andrew, passing one hand through his own hair and undoing Andrew’s work messing it up.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Andrew says, and the way he’s exposed is too much — shirt pushed up in the tousle to pull Neil on top, hard and marked up.

“In my experience, no means stop,” Neil says evenly.

It’s exactly what he wants to hear, he realizes suddenly. Neil finds this humiliating way of giving Andrew what he wants without looking like he’s considered it at all.

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dan and phil have been sharing so many sweet singapore photos with us, but can you imagine how many they haven’t shared? the ones that are just for them? dan probably has so, so many of phil that he browses late at night when he thinks phil is asleep beside him. and then he catches hold of a fleeting realization that slaps him across the face in full force–out of seven billion people, phil chose him, and chose to remain by his side for all these years. phil, too, enjoys flicking through his photos of dan, still continually surprised by this man with a love for aesthetics and memes, who sometimes closes himself off to the world but will always come right back to phil when he’s ready. phil’s watched him grow into the wonderful person he is today, and couldn’t be prouder that he’s finally sharing his true self with the world. their love really is one for the ages, and they wouldn’t change a single thing. and i think that’s absolutely beautiful.

anonymous asked:

What would the guys do if they hear their crush say "me? who would like someone like me?" because they can't believe anyone would like them

Aw nonnie this is a sad/cute one. I hope this is alright! 

Noctis:

 - Noctis would be able to tell you were feeling a little glum, and when you had a few precious moments alone, he’d ask you what was wrong.
- You would try and brush it off at first, it’s not like you want to burden him with something like that…
- But this would just make the prince feel a bit useless, he’d really want you to confide in him. 
- You’d take a big sigh, and finally tell him. You feel lonely. You feel like a bit of a spare part. Everyone was settling down, even Noctis had his marriage to Luna. But you were just left on your own, as always.
- “Hey, don’t be so stupid.” 
- Stupid? This would anger you, you just confided in him like he asked and he calls you stupid?
- Noct would see how irate you were getting, and instantly feel bad.
- “Wait, that’s not what I meant!” And it honestly wasn’t. When will this boy learn to deal with his feelings and say the right thing?
- “Sorry that I’m bothering you with my stupidity Noctis.”
- “Look, that isn’t what I meant by it!”
- He panics that he’s really screwed this up.
- “Sure! I’m just whittling away for nothing!”
- “Well, yeah because-”
- “I should just get used to it.”
- “What?”
- “I mean, who would ever like me?”
- “I would!”
- There would be silence as you digest what Noctis had just said. 
- “You…? But what about Luna?”
- Okay, now his heart is racing.
- “We are friends, good friends, but this arranged marriage… It isn’t for me. Look, I’ve been trying to tell you… I, well, like you.” 
- His eyes sink to the floor and he plays with his arm band nervously. Now it’s calmed down he is self-conscious and can’t believe he just blurted that out…
- You’re stunned. Noctis… liked you? 
- He finally looks at you, unnerved by your silence
- Damn, have I really over stepped the mark this time?
- “Noct… you like me?”
- You can see little splashes of red colour his cheeks as he answers.
- “Y-yeah I do… is that okay?”

 Prompto:

- Prompto would be heading towards the tent one night, after you had disappeared for a while. He was starting to get worried as to where you were!
- As he gets closer to the tent, he can hear your voice… He doesn’t want to intrude if you were on the phone. Though, it didn’t seem like you were…
- He listens for a bit. He knows he shouldn’t, but he just can’t help it. There was just something in the tone of your voice that made him stay, a little twinge of something like… sadness?
- “I’m not like Cindy, or Aranea, I’m just…not.”
- They are definitely talking to themselves. He realised.
- And then you said it. 
- “But really… me? Who could ever like someone like me?”
- It’s almost like you could hear Prompto’s heart crack.
- No. No no no no.
- He recognises the pain in your voice, he understands the self-doubt, he knows it all too well.
- Before he could stop himself or even think about what he was doing, he’d push open the tent flap and take you in his arms.
- There are tears pooling in his own eyes.
- “You should never, never have to feel that way. Not you. Not someone like you.”
- It’s hard to hear him as his voice is muffled, his face buried in your neck. His grip is tight, and he can’t even think about how forward this might be because he just has to make sure you know you’re loved.
- “I like you, I like you, I like you.” He can’t say it enough.
- His words warm your heart.
- You both sit like that for a while, just holding each other until the tears stop. 
- He pulls away, and gently whispers; “It’s you. It has been for a while now. I really like you.”
- You can hardly believe your ears. 
- Still holding you, he looks you in your eyes still wet with tears, now smiling a little sheepishly.
- “So… what do you say?”

Gladiolus:

- Prompto would be chatting away about Cindy, as usual, and you would roll your eyes.
- “Tch, she’s pretty lucky.” 
- Gladio would hear your mumbling, and fall behind the other three to walk with you instead. 
- “Hey, what’s that?” He’d ask, friendly as always.
- “Well, it’s lucky Cindy has someone to feel that way about her.”
- Gladio would raise his eyebrows in surprise and a little in doubt as well.
- “I’m not so sure she sees it that way.”
- “I guess, but at least she knows she’s wanted.”
- By now the other three guys are just a blip in the distance, walking back to the regalia.
- “What do you mean by that?”
- “Well, just that I’d love to be in her shoes. It’s not like anyone will ever feel that way about me.”
- Did they really just say that?
- Suddenly his strong arm juts out in front of you, preventing you from walking any further.
- You look at Gladio in shock, to see that his jaw looks clenched and he looks kind of… angry.
- “Gladio…?”
- “Is that what you truly think?”
- You nod, unable to do more and he finally looks at you.
- “Then, you don’t realise how crazy I am about you.”
- Your heart skips a beat at his words.
- “H-huh?”
- He retracts his arm now, standing up to face you.
- “Why else do you think I always let you fall asleep on me in the car? Because I love the way you feel in my arms. Or when I always ask you for help setting up camp, it’s because I really enjoy your company.”
- He would stand in front of you now, the familiar smile you know and love back.
- “Honestly, these past few weeks you’ve been driving me crazy, and then you say no one would feel like that about you?”
- He shook his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes.
- “Well, I’m telling you now, I do. You don’t have to like it, I’ll understand if you don’t and I’ll speak no more of it. I promise.”
- He tilts his head, fully smiling now at your astounded expression.
- “Well… are you alright with that?”

 Ignis:

- Ignis had noticed you’ve been seeming down lately, choosing to sit in the tent early or sitting in the back of the car in your own world.
- It really starts to concern him, he can’t fathom why you’re feeling this way.
- One night he brings you your food to the tent, seeing if you’re okay.
- You thank him a little despondently, so he sits down next to you and asks if you want to share what has been bothering you.
- Looking into those kind green eyes it’s hard not to start talking about what’s wrong. You knew Iggy was a great listener. 
- So you opened up a little to him.
- “I’ve been watching the others get closer to people lately, Prompto with Cindy, Noctis with Luna for example…”
- “What about it is bothering you?”
- “I don’t know. I guess it just sucks being on your own.”
- “Come now, you’ll meet someone who is just right for yourself.”
- He knows it’s true, even if it’s not with him. Though that thought hurts him more than he’d care to admit.
- You throw Iggy an incredulous look.
- “What? It’s true. You’ll find someone you really like.”
- Oh if only he knew.
- “That’s not the problem. The problem is them liking me. I mean, who the hell would fall for someone like me?”
- Suddenly Iggy’s eyes tighten, and he re-adjusts his glasses.
- He seems… annoyed?
- “Please, do not put yourself down like that. You’re a wonderful person.”
- Huuuuge eyeroll from you.
- “Uh huh, sure.”
- Here comes the generic ‘you’ll get there eventually’ chat.
- “I mean it.”
- “Really?”
- He’s persistent.
- “Yes, you’re funny, gorgeous, intelligent… anyone would be lucky to call you their partner.”
- Well… that you weren’t expecting.
- The fidgeting with his glasses is progressively getting worse, which is unlike Iggy.
- “Why are you saying all of this…?”
- “Because I…” He has to take a deep breath here!
- “I see you that way. And would definitely feel lucky to call you mine.”
- Your heart stops, you can’t believe what you just heard. And he’s looking up at you through those lovely long lashes, and you know he’s being serious.
- Oh my.
- “Iggy…?”
- “I’m sorry if this seems sudden, but please… I have to know how you feel about me.” His green eyes are gazing at yours.
- Oh my.

anonymous asked:

Omg, Sky, what if pastel!Dan was being bullied for wearing skirts and dresses and so one day he breaks down in the bathroom and punk!Phil comes in there and tries to talk him out the stall but can't at first. Eventually Dan does come out of the bathroom (fluff or smut, your choice)

warning ; transphobic slurs, bullying, physical and verbal abuse, pro self harm

Stay strong, Dan. C’mon, stay fucking strong. 

You’re strong, right? You’re not a wimp like they say you are. 

Dan felt his lip tremble, and he clenched his fists at his sides, bunching his soft blue skirt in his hands. Damn it. 

But really if Dan was being honest, he couldn’t take it anymore. The teasing, the shoving, the random insults in the hallway. He didn’t know what he had done to any of them. 

Dan flinched as another of the boys shoved him against the lockers, right after he had gotten up. The guy sneered at him; Dan avoided his eyes, calmly trying to move past him. Someone laughed. 

“Fuckin’ tranny. No boy who’s right in the head would wear a skirt to school,” one of the by-standing girls whispered, not trying very hard to keep it quiet. 

Dan bit his lip; he could feel the tears welling in his eyes but he refused to let them spill. It wasn’t fair. He tugged at the sleeves of his sweater, wiping at his eyes. 

School was an arena. It was a bloody showcase, and he was under the lights. He felt like everyone gathered around just to watch him be hurt, day after day. And none of them ever spoke up! 

“Aw, look! It’s gonna cry. Poor thing,” one of the boy’s said loudly, mocking him, snickering, and everyone laughed. Dan moved faster, and the boy who had said it followed.  

Dan sniffed, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood, and held a hand to his face. It was hot. 

Suddenly something hit his back, something that burned, and he could feel it explode. He stopped in his tracks, letting out a cry, feeling the boiling liquid drip down his thighs and onto his socks. 

Someone had thrown their coffee at him. 

Dan let out a soft whimper, trying to comprehend how much that actually hurt. The laughter rang in his ears like an alarm he couldn’t find the off switch to.

He caught the gaze of a boy, standing by his locker, watching all this with wide eyes. 

Dan knew him, he was in several of his classes, but they never really spoke. He didn’t think he even knew Dan’s name. He was tough, cold and dark, the opposite of Dan. Dan would be scared of him, but he had never really done anything to him. 

 Dan held his gaze for a moment, before looking away and bursting into tears. Choked sobs fell from his lips as he spun around, running straight to the nearest boy’s bathroom, the still hot as hell coffee dripping down his back. 

He had no doubt his sweater and skirt were both ruined, but he didn’t check. He rushed to the back of the room, pushing open one of the stall doors and locking it behind him. 

He crumpled to the ground, burying his face in his arms, shaking with sobs. It wasn’t fair; he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. His back hurt, everywhere the coffee touched, actually. He had no doubt he had burns. Wasn’t that assault? Why did no one stop them?

Because no one cares, Dan. You’re a toy to all of them, a spectacle. 

Dan whimpered, trying to keep himself quiet. He didn’t want them to hear him like this. 

Even his family couldn’t help him. When he had told his mum about the bullying, she had said, ‘Well, i’m not surprised. With how you dress, there’s sure to be hate. Maybe try dressing a little less flamboyant, honey.” He hadn’t tried telling his dad after that. 

Dan thought about the forums he had been on the night before. He had been searching for something, anything, to help him keep sane. He came across all these pro-sites… pro ana, pro self harm… and he had fallen too deep. He had spent hours reading all the awful posts. 

Dan, don’t cry. Crying is for wimps, weak people. You’re not weak, are you? You’re a big boy, keep it in..

Dan shook his head, tugging at his hair. Even he was abusing himself now. 

“Dan…?”

Dan jumped at the voice from the other side of the bathroom, the door creaking open. He didn’t recognize it. It was low, and husky; laced with worry. 

Dan kept quiet, trying to camouflage into the white tile wall. 

“Dan, I know you’re in here,” they said again, a small sigh echoing against the walls. 

“N-No,” Dan stuttered, hiccuping. “’M not.”

A quiet chuckle, and they knocked on the door gently. 

“Please let me in,” he said quietly. Dan bit his lip. 

“No. You’ll hurt me.”

Another sigh. 

“I won’t, angel,” they boy said, and he sounded sincere. “I would never.”

There was a moment of silence as Dan thought, chewing on his lip. 

“Why not?”

“Because no one should hurt someone as sweet as you, doll,” he replied immediately, leaning against the stall door. “I promise, I’m not here to hurt you, honey.” 

Dan felt his lip tremble again, the tears threatening to spill again. 

“I’m not coming out,” Dan whispered. “it’s not safe, they’re gonna hurt me.”

There was silence, and then - “I won’t let them hurt you, angel. I promise.”

Dan took a shaky breath, rolling the boy’s words around in his head. He sounded sincere… 

Dan decided he would take a chance, just this one time. 

He unlocked the door, pushing it open. 

It was him. It was the boy from the hallway, and up close, Dan could see how blue his eyes really were. He grinned, tugging at his leather jacket to straighten it. His happy expression soon turned to worry as his eyes flickered over Dan’s red eyes, messy hair, and stained clothes. 

“Shit, are you alright, angel?” He asked, his eyes widening, and he held out his arms as if to hug him. 

Dan took the offer, sinking into his arms without a second thought, sobbing into his shirt and clinging to him like a baby. Phil immediately embraced him, running his fingers through Dan’s hair like he had been waiting years. 

Dan sniffed. “You’re surprisingly cuddly. What’s your name?”

Phil chuckled, dipping two fingers under Dan’s chin to bring his face up. “Phil. Are you alright, angel?”

Dan rubbed his eyes. 

“I dunno.”

Phil wordlessly spun him around, tutting at the stain on his sweater and lifting it up to reveal his back. Dan heard a gasp. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, turning and trying to see what Phil was seeing. Phil let out a low, growl-like noise. 

“They burned you, babe,” was all he said. 

He grabbed Dan’s wrist, tugging him over to the sink. He started to take Dan’s sweater off, raising his eyebrows to ask for permission. Dan nodded slowly. 

Phil folded it up, although it was already ruined, and set it on the counter. He got a paper towel wet, pressing it to Dan’s lower back. 

Dan jumped, flinching away from the sting, and Phil put a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s alright, love,” he said softly, running his thumb over the skin. Dan shivered.

After Phil was done soothing his burns, he turned him back around, smiling at him. 

“I have a solution, no need to fear,” he said, grinning and shouldering off his jacket. He tugged his shirt over his head, exposing his pale chest. Dan frowned. 

Phil turned his own black shirt back right side out, gently pulling it on Dan, and picked up Dan’s sweater, putting it on, stain and all. Dan blinked at him. 

Phil looked down at himself, grinning. “Damn, I look good in pink.”

Dan giggled. “I think so too.”

“Well,” Phil held out a hand, tilting his head and licking his lips. “Shall we go? What’s your next class?”

Dan bit his lip, nodding and taking his hand, a shock running through him when their fingers intertwined. 

“English.”

Phil smiled crookedly. “Hey, me too. I’ll be your bodyguard.”

So… maybe someone did care. 

so I got my bf into Trollhunters and he turns to me and says “Jim and Strickler look a lot alike”, and I kinda picked up on the resemblances before (esp in some fan arts I’ve seen) but it never hit me just how much they look alike and can we just talk about that for a sec

Character designs are always very conscious and deliberate choices, and Jim and Strickler share a lot of likenesses. They both have long faces, long hooked noses, darker hair, thin lips, noticeable eye bags. Their body types are the same too: long and lean. Jim, in all honesty, looks more like Strickler than his own mother. Barbara has a rounder face, a smaller upturned nose, paler skin, red hair, and electric blue eyes. Very pretty, but not much like her son. We can assume Jim probably takes after his dad in this case, but I think its interesting that Strickler is the only character we’ve physically seen so far who Jim seems to resemble a decent amount. In the words of my bf “imagine what Strickler looked like when he was Jim’s age and tell me they don’t look alike.”

To which you’re probably thinking: ‘so whats the point?’ I don’t know, but characters designed similarly usually indicate similarities between those characters, like in personality or familial relations or maybe to show Jim has some changeling blood in him too. Regardless, I do find the parallels between Jim and Strickler interesting. Such as how they both love knives and are skilled knife twirlers

Or how they prefer passive aggression and snark

Or “Get [Barbara] out of here!” and “I’m only helping you for [Barbara]” aka Barbara Lake is both of their biggest concern always

Or how they trick each other, which I think Jim managing to do is pretty impressive considering Strickler’s a crafty little shit

Or how they come to the same conclusion and concoct the same clever plan to defeat Angor Rot together, following which Strickler claims how he’s surprised how well he and Jim work together. Basically: they make a good team

Or how they love being petty and annoyed with each other, but secretly care about the other

Or how they lie to others (esp Barbara) continuously

Or how they literally yell the same thing in unison at one point

Etc. Jim and Strickler are definitely not the same, like at all. But parallels like these are some of the things that make their interactions so fun and interesting. They have a great dynamic, definitely one of my favorites, and I think their physical similarities kinda emphasize that.

Okay so someone (moi) went skating today and I just…. couldn’t stop thinking of Snowbaz??? So here’s some headcanons that /might/ get turned into an actual fic idk anymore XDD

  • So /technically/ they don’t really know each other bc school is a big place and ye
  • So Simon has a job at the local skate rink as one of those ppl that u know kinda just skate around the rink and help the ppl who fell get up
  • So ye here u are with Simon Snow with his golden curls and beat up pair of roller skates and ye
  • And one day Baz’s step mum forces him to take his sisters skating
  • Oh boy oh boy oh boy
  • So those little butts they force Baz to rent a pair of skates with them (cuz they “can't” skate)
  • So y’know Baz laces up the kids skates and then his skates and stands up
  • At first it seems like he’ll be fine
  • And the chiddlers go and skate no problem
  • Baz doesn’t get two feet without falling
  • Frick
  • But freaking Mordelia is like “C’monnnnn Bazzzzz.”
  • So shakily Baz gets onto the skate rink and he’s like uber embarrassed bc what the frick Mordelia you can skate perfectly fine by urself why couldn’t I just stand on the side and laugh at the ppl falling instead of being the person falling?
  • So I mean he almost falls a lot but it’s okay cuz he’s hugging the wall and it’s keeping him on his feet (but he is forced to skate in shame as kids that are like 5 years old zoom past him)
  • And then he gets to that part all skate rinks have that have no bars u know those places
  • Oh frick
  • For a second he thinks he has it and gets rlly excited for a sec (that dork)
  • And then he falls on his face
  • (As he puts it, his life flashed before his eyes)
  • Then Simon frickin Snow that graceful dorkface comes in swiftly and reaches a hand down to Baz
  • “Are you okay, Sir?”
  • Baz tries to get up but when he looks up at Simon he practically falls again cuz what the frick nobody has the right to be that hot
  • (Simon is literally thinking the exact same thing and it’s a miracle he isn’t looking like a tomato rn)
  • “Fine,” Baz grumbles as he gets to his feet
  • And to his embarrassment, he slips again, right into Simon Snow’s arms
  • Oops
  • So Baz is like super embarrassed and flustered and it’s a mess
  • And Simon is like squealing on the inside bc WHAT THE FRICK OH MY GODDDDDD but he keeps his cool bc he’s Simon idk
  • Anyway Baz skates away basically dying
  • And ye
  • But like the whole night Baz keeps falling and Simon keeps skating to him laughing and saying “Are you sure you don’t want my help?”
  • Baz denies every time
  • Soon the night comes to an end
  • And both Baz and Simon are a little sadder than they’d like to admit
  • (Those dorks. They crushin)
  • And then
  • The next week
  • Oh my gods Baz takes his sisters again
  • OFBSKSHEJDIWBWNEM
  • He doesn’t admit it but he wants to see Simon again
  • (DORK)
  • So the same thing happens as before
  • But at the end of the night Simon asks, “What’s ur name?”
  • “Baz.”
  • “Simon.”
  • THEN MY GODS OKAY WOW
  • So it kinda happens every week
  • They look forward to it
  • (A lot)
  • So anyway
  • Simon ends up telling Penny about him
  • “Oh my god Penny he’s so pretty.”
  • “Did you see his eyes? Aren’t they amazing?”
  • “Pennnyyyyyyyyyy I’m not done with my storyyyyyy.”
  • Then one day he calls her at like 1 in the morning
  • “Penny….”
  • “What is it now Simon? It’s 1am can’t I sleep?”
  • “Penny I….” Simon bites his lip
  • “What is it Simon?”
  • “How did you know you loved Micah?”
  • “Wha–is this about Agatha again?”
  • “I–what? No I’m just… curious.”
  • Penny takes a deep breath
  • “It’s when all you can think about it is them. It’s when you look forward to see them everyday and you miss them with every part of your soul.”
  • Silence
  • “Penny?”
  • “Yes Simon?”
  • “I think I like Baz.”
  • 0.0
  • Okay so cut to the next week
  • Simon sees Baz with his sisters and skates over to him
  • He’s like rlly nervous
  • But he goes up to Baz
  • “Hey um Baz?” Simon says. Baz turns around and to his surprise sees Simon
  • “Hey Simon.”
  • “Um… do you want to skate with me?”
  • Baz shrugs
  • They skate together
  • And it’s sorta killing Simon cuz BAZ IS SO SLOW
  • But his heart is racing like oh my god oh my god ohmygod
  • He’s rlly pink and Baz is wondering what the frick is going on
  • Like what the hell Simon?
  • Baz is too lost in thought that he doesn’t see some kid skate in front of him until he almost crashes into them and he doesn’t but he falls
  • “Baz are you alright?”
  • Simon holds out a hand
  • For the first time, Baz takes it
  • Electricity shocks through both of their arms
  • Baz stands up
  • Both of their hands are still linked
  • And then Penny that little devil who is in charge of the music changes the song in the middle of another song and plays “Can You Feel The Love Tonight”
  • Simon is so red and like god damnit Penny you had one job
  • But Baz is looking at him in a way that… he rlly likes
  • And suddenly they find themselves drifting closer together
  • (Or Baz is sliding that’s also a possibility)
  • And then my gods Simon is pretty much like “whatever” and kisses Baz
  • Baz’s head: FJDJBWKSHBWKHSHW
  • Simon’s head: KEHAKSGWHWNKFKENWHWN
  • basically both of them are dying but they like love it a lot omgs
  • And then the moment is ruined as Baz slips and both of them crash to the floor
  • Simon just laughs
  • “I-I like you,” he stutters
  • “I-I like you, too.”
2

Before, she would have jumped at the sudden and unexpected pressure of someone’s hand on her waist, but nearly half a year in an 18th-century French court has taught Rose to adapt, if nothing else. (Her French is as abysmal as it ever was without the help of the TARDIS, but the court is graciously willing to overlook such things on behalf of the savior of their uncrowned queen.)

Still, Rose smiles as she dances, even if her partner can’t see it. “Someone’s awfully familiar today,” she teases (in mutilated French); probably it’s Henri, a little tipsy from the king’s finest wine, but he’s not half-bad to look at. “Feeling a bit grabby, are we?”

“Oh, you know me,” replies a soft voice behind her, in English, and it’s all Rose can do to stop herself tripping over her own feet. “I’m a hands-on learner.”

Rose’s heart leaps in her chest, hammering madly against her ribcage in time to the music and the steps of her feet below. Over a hundred days since she last heard that voice anywhere but her dreams; of course, she recognizes it instantly. Her grin is so wide now her face could almost split with the size of it. She squeezes her eyes shut, giving silent thanks to any gods that might be listening. <

(The impulse to stop in her tracks pulls at her, demanding her to spin and throw her arms around his neck and maybe never let go, but some part of her is afraid to—maybe she’s wrong, maybe it isn’t him, or it’s a dream, or if she looks at him, she’ll break the spell. So she keeps dancing.)

“And?” Rose prompts, insinuating her hand over his where it rests against her waist. “What have you learned?”

“That your French is atrocious.”

“Rude,” says Rose, but she laughs. She squeezes his other hand, the one leading them around the ballroom along with the rest of the courtiers. “It’s been five and a half months, and that’s all you’ve got to say to me?”

His grip on her waist tightens. “No, actually, it isn’t.”

“Aww, did you miss me?”

“Do you know the kind of trouble you could have gotten into?” he asks, his voice suddenly curt. “The damage you could have caused? Probably caused?”

His sharpness startles her, but Rose shrugs it off. “Don’t worry, I didn’t—”

“You have no idea what you did or didn’t do,” he hisses. “Weakening the integrity of this timeline, exposing everyone to the possibility of Reapers, compromising the safety of everyone here—”

“You mean Reinette,” Rose replies coolly.

“She’s part of everyone here, isn’t she? Or are you so thick that I have to spell that out for you, too?”

Rose laughs again, but the sound is shaky and thin this time, a scoff. “Why, hello, Doctor, it’s nice to see you too! Don’t ask about me, thanks, I’ve been doing just fine in the land of scratchy underwear and no plumbing.”

“I told you what would happen if that time window was smashed, Rose,” he continues as if he didn’t hear her; he’s so quiet Rose can barely hear him over the flutes and harpsichord and drums, but she can still make out the strain in his voice, the bite to it. “I was very explicit. I couldn’t have been clearer. So I’m struggling to understand—and that’s quite a feat, struggling to understand something with a brain as impressive as mine—why the hell you thought jumping through that window was a good idea.”

Twisting in his grasp, Rose cranes her neck to look at him, finally, and there he is, all furrowed brow and tight mouth and eyes glittering with anger, and god, if she wasn’t so irritated with him right now, she just might kiss him.

“That’s what you were going to do, isn’t it?” she asks instead.

***

anonymous asked:

#42 isak and even ??

42) things you said when you asked me to marry you (this was requested by three people so i figured y’all really want this. it’s okay - i wanted it too.)

Isak’s still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he enters the kitchen to Even making breakfast. He’s gotten years to drink in this sight on both the good days and the bad days, but the revelation that Even’s here, for him, is still enough to knock the wind out of Isak. It’s been so long, but Isak will always be that insecure boy in the kitchen of his old apartment, wondering if he’d dreamt up a world where someone as beautiful as Even would stay with him when the morning came.

“What are you doing over there?” Even says. He glances up from the eggs to beam at Isak. “I woke up extra early on our anniversary to make you breakfast, and I don’t even get a cuddle for it?”

“We could’ve cuddled in bed,” Isak grumbles, but he dutifully makes his way over to Even, wraps his arms around his waist and presses his nose against Even’s back. He breathes in, and Even’s familiar scent calms down the flutters in his stomach. “Seven years, baby,” he whispers.

“Feels like longer,” Even says.

“Yeah,” Isak says, but he’s been saying this as soon as he met Even, hadn’t he? Falling in love with Even had been like discovering something new and familiar all at once, and even though they’ve only officially been living together for three years, Isak can’t remember a time when he didn’t come home to Even. They’ve weathered storms, fought and broke and healed, but in the end, this is where he belongs, holding Even safe in his arms.

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anonymous asked:

Fem!S/o having a crush on Prompto and is really nervous to tell him because they are really good friends and she doesn't want to ruin the good relationship they have but can't help falling for him everyday.

Confiteor

The expression on his face said it all.

You shouldn’t have said anything. You panicked––after finding him like that, bound at his hands and feet to that device, you almost broke down then and there. When the others got him free and he dropped to the ground, you collapsed at his side and pulled him into your arms.

He gripped you so tightly that you weren’t sure if he knew you were real or not. You whispered into his ear that everything was going to be okay, that he was safe, that nothing bad was going to happen to him again.

Prompto had just admitted his deepest, darkest secret––the truth about his past, had exposed the one thing that he’d always been fearful of. And maybe that had made you bold, maybe you thought he would understand. But you looked at his stunned face now, and immediately regretted the words as they passed your lips.

“I’m in love with you.”

You shook your head, turning from him to walk away. 

“Never mind,” you whispered, barely audible. “Forget I said anything.”

A hand on your wrist stopped you. “Wait.”

Your blood ran cold, your pulse pounding in your ears. You tried to tug your arm out of his grip.

“It’s fine, Prompto,” you said quietly, trying to keep the tears welling in your eyes at bay. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t want to ruin our friendship with a stupid crush, so just drop it, alright? Let’s just go, we have to find Ardyn and––”

Prompto pulled you back, and spun you to face him before claiming your lips in a gentle kiss. You squeaked in surprise as one of his hands came to cup your cheek, the other holding you steady at your waist. It took you a second to respond to his kiss, melting against his touch.

He pulled away, his fingers trembling, his breath shaky.

“After knowing what I am,” he mumbled, his thumb running across your lower lip. “After finding out this secret that I can’t take back, this past I can’t escape…I need to know if you really mean it.”

You searched his eyes. You were met with the clear blue you’d grown to know, the icy pools that you sank into to feel safe and protected. They were marred with worry and fear, and your heart tensed knowing that he had been hurt so badly.

“I love you, Prompto,” you promised, your hand reaching up touch the one that he held against your face. “Your past doesn’t change that. I love you.”

A tear slipped out of his eye and he surged forward to kiss you again. Your arms looped around his shoulders, pulling him tight against you. He shook ever so slightly in your grasp, as if he’d just woken up from an age-long nightmare and could finally breathe. You couldn’t help but let your tears fall as well, the bite of salt slipping past your lips and onto his tongue.

You pulled back and he kissed your tears away, you doing the same for him. You leaned for forehead against his as you both exhaled, trying to calm your racing hearts.

“I love you too,” he said, breaking the quiet. “I always have. Please believe me.”

You gave a nod, lifting his tattooed wrist up to your mouth. You kissed it gently before lacing his fingers with yours. “I believe you.”

Sam is eight when he throws his arms around Dean’s neck and pecks him right on the mouth, beaming up against his larger than life sunshine bright big brother.

John grasps Sam by the T-shirt, pulls him away from Dean, and barks: “That’s not something you do to your brother, Sam.”

Sam looks at John, eyes wide, bottom lip trembling. “But I love him, daddy,” little Sammy says quietly, trying to crawl back onto Dean’s lap.

John separates them again, rougher this time. “Not like that, you don’t,” John snarls, before he snatches a bottle of Jack from the table and storms off.

*

Sam is eighteen when John, after ten long years of Jack, denial and sorrowful rage, drags Sam out to the parking lot. John shoves Sam’s acceptance letter against his chest as he speaks, slowly and menacingly. “You’re going to California, Sam. Go to California, or so help me I will find another way to keep you from him. You understand me, son?”

Sam’s eyes glitter beneath fluorescent light with unshed, furious tears. He swallows, then he says, “I love him,” and his voice breaks under John’s sickened glare. “Dad,” Sam begs as his head drops. “Dad, please don’t make me leave him.”

John’s face turns ashen, bile rising in his throat. “The way you love him ain’t right, Sammy. Never was.”

anonymous asked:

"Forgive me...Please...I can't live without y-you..." For Yura and Beka?? Pls??!!! I am angst trash! XD -Red

Yuri believed that he had gone through hell, that he had experienced pain in his eighteen years of life.

But nothing had ever felt as bad as this.

He sat on Victor’s couch, crying into Makkachin’s fur. It had been nearly midnight when he had arrived, rain-soaked and sobbing, to Victor and Yuuri’s shock. He had given no explanation for his arrival or why he was upset, he had simply launched himself into Victor’s arms, crying on his shoulder.

Shocked and worried, they guided him to the couch, bringing him hot tea and a towel to help dry him off. They had begged him to explain what was the matter, but Yuri only kept crying, burying his head in his hands. Eventually, Makkachin padded up to Yuri, snuggling against him, causing Yuri to drop down and sob into her fur.

Yuri’s phone had fallen out of his pocket when he sat down and it was constantly buzzing, someone desperately trying to get a hold of him.

“Yurio, your phone is ringing,” Yuuri said gently, “Do you want us to answer?”

Yuri shook his head, sobs quieting a little. He had no desire to answer who was on the other line, he wasn’t in any condition to talk.

“Are you sure?” Victor asked, looking down at Yuri’s cell, which was buzzing again, “It’s Otabek-”

Yuri’s sobs increased at the sound of his boyfriend’s name, burying his face in his hands again. He knew he must look absolutely horrendous, face red and blotchy, clothes damp and cold.

Yuuri sat down next to him, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Yurio,” he began softly, “Did you and Otabek have a fight?”

Yuri’s head shot up, red-rimmed eyes blazing, still full of tears.

A fight? If only you knew, Katsudon, Yuri thought savagely, trying to get himself to calm down enough to talk.

“Yuri, tell us what’s going on,” Victor said, sitting on the coffee table in front of them, “You’re scaring us.”

Yuri took a deep breath, trying not to start crying again. “Beka…” he choked out slowly, “I…fuck.”

Victor raised an eyebrow slowly. “So, this is about him?”

Yuri nodded, running an unsteady hand through his hair. “I told him I…god, Victor, he didn’t say it back.”

“Didn’t say what back?” Victor asked gently, while Yuuri squeezed Yuri’s shoulder reassuringly.

“That he loved me,” Yuri confessed in a whisper, clutching his chest, “Fuck, I’ve never…I’ve never said that to anyone before and he…”

His eyes shot up, filled with pain and insecurity, “He didn’t say it back! He just fucking sat there. And I…I couldn’t take it, it was too much…”

“So you ran,” Victor finished softly, sharing a knowing glance with his husband. The three sat in silence for a moment, interrupted only by the buzz of Yuri’s phone. Sighing, Victor leaned down and without bothering to ask, he slide it open to answer.

“This is Victor,” he said quickly. There was a pause on the other line before a calm voice came through.

“Is he there?” Otabek asked, a waver in his voice betraying fear, “Is he safe?”

“Yuri’s here, with us,” Victor answered while Yuri buried his face in his knees, “He’s very upset.”

“Can I talk to him?” Otabek asked softly. Victor looked over at Yuri, who held out his hand wordlessly, taking the phone from Victor.

“It’s me,” Yuri said, wincing at how wrecked his voice sounded.

“Oh, Yura,” Otabek said sadly, “I’m so sorry! You surprised me and then you left so fast…I was so worried about you!”

Yuri swallowed, closing his eyes in attempt to stop the tears from starting again.

“Yura,” Otabek said nervously, words beginning to come more quickly, “Forgive me, please! I can’t live without you, you know that. Of course I love you. I’ve been dying to say it to you, but when you said it to me I just…I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that you wanted me.”

Yuri sniffed, rubbing at his eyes, still not saying a word.

“I love you,” Otabek continued frantically, “And I’ll say it over and over until the day I die, if you want me.”

“That day better not be any time soon,” Yuri whispered after a moment, feeling himself beginning to relax, “Because I love you, too, and you have a lot to make up to me, Beka.”

“Then come home. Come home Yura, and let me.”

Home to you.

Did someone say angsty one way communication. Okay, it’s not texting but I’m SO your girl for angsty one way communication! This one is classic rip your heart out and duct tape it back together with glitter glue. Enjoy :)


“I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m trying to get back home to you, and I won’t ever stop until I do.”

His hand dropped, grip still tight around the shell as he turned back to Ariel.

“Ariel, is there any chance-”

“I’m sorry, Captain. Unless you can hold your breath for… I mean I’m a fast swimmer but not that fast.”

“But you could reach Storybrooke? Would you ensure that my message was received?” She nodded and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “Thank you Ariel. This, this means more to me than I could ever hope to describe.”

When they reached the water’s edge she reached around her neck and unclasped her necklace, her tail reappeared as she dove into the cloudy water. No sooner had her tail passed beyond his view there was a bright light and a wave came crashing back towards the shore, Ariel caught in its tow.

“Ariel!” Hook dove forward, catching her arm before she was pulled back under. She was fumbling with something around her neck and soon she’d two legs under her again.

“You were out of my sight for no more than a moment, you couldn’t possibly have-”

I’m sorry, Captain. I’ve made the trip to Storybrooke countless times now but this time… I couldn’t break through. It was like the fury of a storm pushing back against me.

“So the ways are shut to you? Have you ever experienced such a thing before? Has something happened to the town?”

“No, It was more… more like reaching a locked door than an empty room.”

“Thank you for trying, Ariel. Perhaps another way…” He reluctantly handed her the seashell but she shook her head.

“Keep it. Talk to her sometimes. Maybe she missed your first message, so tell her again.”

He nodded and within moments she was no more than a ripple on the surface of the water.


“Emma? Ariel tried to reach Storybrooke, to ensure that you knew the truth but she was unable to pass. I hope you’re safe. I never meant to leave you. I’m trying to come home. I love you.”

She had clasped the shell around her neck hours ago, in the hopes of catching his voice again, and now she’d heard the message a dozen times. Each time a flare of anger rose up in her and she finally glared up at Gideon. “You’re telling me that instead of asking for my help in defeating the apparent source of all Evil, you thought it made the most sense to kidnap my true love and hold him for ransom? Did it occur to you for even a moment that I might have been more willing to help you before you tried to kill me and ripped my true love away?”

“Tell you my plan when you could have chosen to stop me? I’ve worked too hard for this to let it rest on the whim of another.”

“Let me talk to him,” she insisted, putting down what she had been working on suddenly.

“Not until you help me to-”

“No,” Emma interrupted. “Keep him trapped in another realm, fine. It will hurt me like hell but it won’t get you a single step closer to your goal. You need me. But until I’m sure that it is really him, that you haven’t killed him and recorded this message somehow, I’ll not so much as help you resolve a parking violation.”

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anonymous asked:

Gency prompt! "I can't stand the thought of losing you." 🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄

Sorry for the late response! I’ve been rather busy lately but I managed to find some time at 2am to squeeze this in! I hope you enjoy!

A response to a prompt for me 2K Followers Event (which is technically still active though with delayed replies I suppose ^^”). Thank you for the wonderful prompt!

Artwork by the wonderful h@ge. It just fitted so well that I couldn’t help but use it <3


The air was quiet without even a breath of the wind, as though the tension had halted the breezes in their tracks. The air felt dry, as if Angela bit her lips as she felt her eyes tear up, her wall breaking down as Mercy slipped away. The confident, professional doctor was gone now, replaced by a teary-eyed angel by the name of Angela.

“Why would you do that? Do you know how much you scared me? I thought you were going to … I didn’t know … Genji!”

With that, she pulled Genji into her, hugging him tightly with his head on her shoulder. She did not want to bury her face in his chest, though it was quite tempting. Though it was definitely an appealing option in most cases, the nearly lethal chest would he just received was definitely not something she wanted to look at right then. Even if she had patched him up to fully healthy condition with only a minor amount of blood loss, she was afraid that if she looked at the crack in his armor, he would suddenly collapse lifelessly in front of her.

As such, she was more than happy to simply hold him closely against her, simply crying gently though calming down with each sniffle she took. She knew it was far from professional and what he needed at that moment, but she couldn’t help it. He nearly died in her arms. Just for this once, she just wanted to be selfish. Even if she was unprofessional, to hell with it. What mattered to her right then was that she could hold him close and feel his warmth against her. A warmth that said he was still alive.

“Angela dear. I can’t breathe.”

Angela paused and sniffled once before pulling back a bit, letting go of him and looking away bashfully. That elicited a chuckle from Genji, which was met with a small pout from the lady facing him, one that did not hide her own smile for too long.

After a moment, Genji let out a soft sigh and glanced away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have worried you and done something so reckless. But …”

Angela looked at him, coughing once to push away the last of her unrestrained emotions and putting on a false interrogative frown toward him. “But what, my dear sparrow? You better have a good reason for worrying me so much.”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”

That made her stop, looking at him in disbelief. She coughed once, meeting his eyes steadily but finding her cheeks turning warmer. After a short moment of silence, she let out in a soft voice. “Could you say that again?”

That made Genji frown and tapped her on the forehead with his fingers as he said, “Oh now you’re just being greedy. Was it really that special to you?”

Angela bit her index finger between her soft lips, nodding once shyly which only made Genji make an exasperated expression and sighed.

“Seriously. I’ve been in love with you for all this time, hinting and confessing to you in a huge variety of different ways I spent sleepless nights rehearsing. And this is the one you’ll treat at my confession?”

Angela opened her mouth to defend herself, though she was confused herself. Had she really been that oblivious to his approach? While she knew that he was long discharged from her care and hence no longer in her professional relationship, she had not expected him to feel the same way about her too.

However, Genji saved her from having to speak as he continued. “Very well. I’ll say it one more time. I suppose we’re even, now that you have saved me and I have saved you. That being said, I would still like to be able to take you out on a date.”

He gave her a gentle smile, his visor somewhere on the dirt ground in the distance. Not that it mattered though, not when it meant he could gaze directly into her beautiful blue eyes as feel her gentle touch on his arms. With every word he spoke, he made sure to mean every last bit of it.

“Angela, you’re a wonderful part of my life. And I can’t ever bear the thought of losing you.”

The sun peeked from over the cover of the clouds, its rays shining on the wreckage of vehicles and abandoned buildings around the pair. Despite being in such a ruinous place, he supposed that this would be a memory he would treasure more than any other one in his life. Or at least, any that he had ever had before this moment and that she will undoubtedly bring to him. She was a miracle worker after all. A worker, a doctor, and an angel.

“So please, promise me that you’ll always be by my side. Today and forever.”

anonymous asked:

random but always relevant: you know how a lot of people go on about how viktor speaking russian in bed with yuuri would make him blush and be such a kink (which yes, same, and very important lol), but what about yuuri speaking japanese, either if it just slips out or if viktor asks him to, i just can't at yuuri whining 'kimochii' ('that feels good') or 'hayaku!' ('faster!') etc, as viktor tries not to come just from hearing yuuri's whimpering voice *eyes emoji*

On that first plane ride to Hasetsu, Victor split his time between telling the lovely old woman sitting across the aisle from him about how he was on his way to find the love of his life and tripping over his own tongue while he sounded out the words in the Russian-to-Japanese dictionary he’d picked up at the airport. The pages were crammed with chaos: alphabets broken and bent into new shapes, words that had fifty different characters with one meaning, L’s rolling into unfamiliar R’s that barely found purchase in his mouth. When he finally saw Yuuri, the declaration the kind woman on his flight had helped him prepare—Iしてるの君—had turned tail and fled, leaving him to take the coward’s way out by switching to English and rattling off something about being Yuuri’s coach. That night, ensconced in his little room, he read his dictionary from cover to cover by the light of his phone, whispering every word aloud until the first rays of Japanese morning crept in to goad him into getting off his ass and trying again.

His trusty dictionary has seen some things; its pages are crinkled and ripped, dogeared into deformity, and the cover threatens to just up and disintegrate if he so much as looks at it wrong. It’s been his only line of defense the past year, a wrecking ball wielded in the face of countless cultural barriers, and he knows it so well that he could probably recite every single word by page number and line. Except one.

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To the couples of Beacon, (White Rose, Bumblebee, Arkos, Renora, Crosshares), what's your favorite thing to do with each other? (Asked by shadowalex2000)
  • Ruby, with a bright smile: Weiss loves to go out and shop, it isn't really surprising is it?
  • Weiss, grumpily: Hey!!
  • Ruby, with the same bright smile: But I just like spending time with her. So I don't mind.
  • Weiss, covering her blushing face: RUBY JUST STOP TALKING.
  • ~~~
  • Yang: I like to take Blake out, a bar or nice restaurant depending on how much lien I've saved up from our missions. Althought recently I've been taking her to this bookstore that has this huge fishtank. I've never seen her that happy.
  • Yang, with daydreamy smile: It's great...
  • Blake, shrugs a little, using her book to cover her cheeks: I guess I just like doing anything with Yang really.
  • Blake, bringing her book down, her face serious now, with a furrowed brow: EXCEPT THAT COMEDY CLUB. THAT WAS STUPID!
  • Yang, awkwardly rubbing the back of her head: Aha....yeah...
  • ~~~
  • Jaune, smiling with his hands on his hips: Honestly training with Pyrrha is the best, it's spending time with her, and bettering myself as a huntsman. What more could I want?
  • Pyrrha, giggling a little: I personally like best what we do after training.
  • Jaune, his eyes widening with a blushed face: Ah, y-yeah me too.
  • ~~~
  • Ren, lifting his hands in a full shrug: Believe it or not. I truly do enjoy cooking for Nora. Especially when she helps. Though she may make a mess, we make that mess together. And that's what I love most.
  • Nora, pondering: Hmmm, what do I like to do with Ren the most? Hmmmmmm....
  • Nora, jumping up: I like poking fun at him!
  • Nora, whispering loudly: Especially when he sneaks peaks. Sometimes I let him though.
  • Ren, his face boiling in embarrassment: N-Nora!!!
  • ~~~
  • Coco, sitting cross legged at a cafe, drinking a cup of coffee: Oh me? Well, I spoil Velvet, and that's something I love. Getting her whatever she wants, whther she knows she wants it or not.
  • Velvet, sitting across from Coco: Lately I've gone as far as stop saying things like, "Oh that jacket looks nice", to make sure Coco won't spend all the proceeds of our missions on me.
  • Coco, scoffing: I'm not THAT bad!!
  • Velvet, shamefully: I know...and to make it worse...I enjoy being spoiled....
  • Coco, pointing victoriously: I knew it!!!
  • Velvet, laughs a little and smiles: But me? I really like just being by Coco's side. We've been through a lot together, and I can't wait to go through more.
Fanfiction - The Teacher

Request for a fic. Everyone is joking about professor Sam in Barbour. Could you write a professor Jamie story. Claire is a student but Older and more intriguing than all the young giggling co-eds

…In the meantime, I had this anon ask sitting on my inbox for some months now – and I’d hate to let this fantasy go unattended!

The Teacher

Those girls were ridiculous, Claire thought. Madly fluttering their eyelashes as if a constant influx of dust was getting into their eyes and always bending over, using the pretence of catching a fallen pen or pencil, only to expose their cleavage. Claire felt she was inside a documentary on the mating rituals of college girls and, even if slightly amusing, it also disturbed her in an irrational way.

Health Management was an extra class for her – a way to get a couple more credits that would speed up her academic course. She was already almost ten years the senior when compared to the other students attending Medical School – her years as a nurse had given her a lot of useful resources, but also made her feel she was constantly battling time. It was an interesting class, that mixed concepts of health and economics, to ensure the future doctors based their decisions in cost-effectiveness. In spite of being well taught and useful, whispering was a constant background noise – clearly the result of female hormones going rampant. The problem was not the subject, Claire knew – was the man leading the class.

Professor Fraser was young and remarkably handsome – his Scottish accent and deep voice, combined with astonishing blue eyes, which he hid behind black rimmed glasses, inspired great admiration amongst the women in the classroom. The fact that the class functioned at all was a testament to Fraser’s capacity of using leadership skills and imposing respect.

A couple of girls next to her giggled and Claire distinctively heard one of them, a blonde bombshell that undoubtedly belonged in a house named after a Greek alphabet letter, saying “I would slide my hand bellow his kilt anytime…”

Pursing her lips and rolling her eyes, Claire continued to sketch with her sharp pencil in the back of her notebook, struggling to focus again on the contents of the class. The shade in the external corner wasn’t quite right, she noticed, furrowing her brows in annoyance.

“Am I boring ye, Miss Beauchamp?” She heard a voice demanding her attention. Claire looked up and noticed all faces turned to her, clearly awaiting her reaction to being caught distracted. James Fraser stood next to the board with his arms crossed, his lips forming a half smile, expecting her answer.

Yes. “No, Professor Fraser.” She replied in a casual tone. “I was just taking notes and got distracted. May you repeat the question, please?”

“I see.” He said in a serious – disappointed? – tone. “Anyone knows the answer? Miss MacKenzie?”

“Replacing the blood gas machine would be the best measure.” Laoghaire MacKenzie glowed like a lit candle - marvelled that for once she had managed to upstage Claire and gain Professor Fraser’s attentions - offering a victorious look through the corner of her eye, which Claire blatantly ignored.

“That is correct.” He nodded, raising a brow in Claire’s direction. “I’d recommend that ye pay more attention to the class, Miss Beauchamp.”

“I bloody would if it wasn’t for your fan club.” Claire complained in a low voice, after he had resumed the class.

As the class ended – students rushing to the door to get to the refectory in time for lunch, talking about a hot party later that week -, Claire assembled her notebooks and pencil, storing them inside her green rucksack – made of what looked like army green fabric with a painted red cross, akin to something a doctor would wear during the Second World War.

“May I talk to you, Miss Beauchamp?” Professor Fraser asked politely, as she walked down the stairs in direction of the door. The room was almost deserted, only a couple of latecomers remained inside, struggling with coats and piles of books.

“Of course, Professor.” Claire stared at him, expectantly.

“Ye were distracted today.” He pointed, closing the book he had used to prepare the current subject. “Is something bothering ye, Claire?”

“No.” She firmly replied, her eyes downcast. “I’m sure I can’t be the first student you caught daydreaming. Why are you making such a big deal about it?”

Jamie gave her a concerned look, his blue eyes wrinkling in the corners. He was sporting a small stubble, that combined with his impeccable plaid shirt, gave him a look of casual handsomeness.

“Ye are one of the best students in the class.” He said slowly, neatly placing his books inside his own bag. “I wouldna like ye to squander yer potential. If something is disturbing ye, I’d like to help ye if I can, that’s all.”

“It’s fine.” She insisted in a harsher voice, her hands slightly trembling. “I don’t really need another man to tell me I’m not good enough and can’t handle things. Because I am quite capable!”

“I’m not saying ye aren’t, Miss Beauchamp.” He pointed patiently, glaring at her increasingly red face. “In fact, I think I just said quite the opposite.”

“I can’t focus because all the girls around me are acting like crazy hens, cackling over you!” She accused in a mordant voice, going completely berserk despite her best rational alarms going off in the outskirts of her brain. “I’m here to study – I have so much to learn still and my age will hurt me in spite of how good I keep proving myself again and again – and all they can think is to shag the teacher!”

“Ye’re crossing the line, Claire.” Jamie warned, his voice now low and dangerous. “I might be younger than ye – just a few years, really - but ye’re not exactly old enough to convince me ye’re getting senile by acting out and being disrespectful. I am the teacher here.”

“Then you should bloody act like it!” Claire growled, the hammer of anger – and jealousy? – pounding against her ribs. “Stop being so nice and attentive, because you’re clearly giving the wrong message!”

“What?!” His mouth was ajar, the pulse on his temple throbbing in anger. He practically tore his glasses away from his face, discarding them on the table with a dry sound. “I never made any advances on one of my students. The mere suggestion my behaviour is borderline unethical is a verra serious one, Miss Beauchamp. It can get me suspended if anyone in the faculty board hears it.”

“I’m sorry.” She hissed, fidgeting with the closing mechanism of her rucksack. “But you have to recognize that you are young and…handsome.” Claire swallowed her, her voice strangled. “You can pass the wrong impression just from breathing.”

“Maybe ye should drop this class.” Jamie suggested, slightly turning away from her in order to shield his face from her sight. “I can ask Professor Raymond’s permission for you to assist his Alternative Medicine class. It will give ye the same credits as mine.”

“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Maybe I should.” They stood there, facing each other, their eyes battling when words had failed them.

“Claire.” He asked, his voice ragged but softer, warmer. “Who told you ye werena enough?”

“My husband.” She avoided his eyes, twisting her lips in a grimace. “Ex-husband. He was a teacher too. Thought I couldn’t handle becoming a doctor – I should settle to what I already was. He was very vocal about it. That’s why we divorced.”

“He was wrong.” Jamie said softly, but firmly. His eyes were all shades of blue – stormless skies, bottomless oceans, rare wild flowers, starry nights, infinite horizons. “I hope ye ken that. Because I certainly do.”

“Oh.” Claire babbled, feeling utterly ridiculous after her outburst. He had his long-fingered hands placed on the desk between them – in her eyes they seemed made to lovingly caress a female body, to demand responses with brutal kindness, to hold a smaller hand that could fit perfectly. “Thank you.”

“It has been a pleasure teaching you, Claire.” He said quietly. “You have a lively mind and a sharp wit. They’ll serve ye well. Yer age won’t hinder ye, lass – it only makes ye that more intriguing and capable.”

“I’m sorry.” She gave him a weak blushing smile, reinforced by the way he responded with a small grin. “I can be quite…rebellious, when my heels are being stepped on.”

“I have witnessed it first-hand.” He laughed, brushing his copper hair in a display of nervousness. “Ye seem to have forgotten one of yer wee notebooks.” And, without waiting for her answer, strode to the place where she had been sitting, collecting her pad.

She knew he would see it – she had been working on it for most of the class and had left it open as she hurried to leave. It was a rough drawing of a blue eye, with a familiar catlike shape – framing it was a verse from her favourite poem in her stylized hand, “Da mi basia mille”.

Deinde centum.” He completed, caressing the sheet with his fingertips. “If ye’re not my student anymore,” He said in a hoarse voice, turning to look at her with a burst of hope in his eyes. “I’m finally free to ask ye out on a date, as I’ve wanted since the day I first saw ye sitting on my class.”

anonymous asked:

saeran, v, and rfa reactions to finding out MC is a really famous artist that uses a pseudonym and they find out because of finding their art in their studio and MC can't lie so they fess up

Yoosung

  • shooketh
  • no seriously why hide this from him???
  • he’s just ready to fall to MC’s feet
  • what is the secret to be motivated enough to make art like this
  • p l e a s e
  • in all seriousness, he’s amazed MC managed to keep it a secret for so long
  • he’s just, amazed? he can’t stop singing praise to MC
  • seriously, he can’t just, comprehend how he’d been dating someone so talented all the time and hadn’t noticed

Jaehee

  • she’s left in shock for a good ten minutes
  • MC is almost scared she’s mad they hid it form her?
  • but when they ask, she just. hugs them
  • she can’t express how amazed she is
  • Jaehee is someone who can appreciate art and, just, she’s always thought so highly of MC’s art
  • without knowing it was MC who made the art??
  • her heart can’t take this, her life is just going amazingly, is this truly real life??

Jumin

  • he has that surprised look on his face that MC finds oh-so-adorable
  • he’s, of course, full of questions
  • he isn’t a fan of thinking MC hadn’t told him before, but it’s such an amazing revelation he doesn’t particularly mind
  • he’s curious about it all. how does MC make time for art? what is their preferred method? what materials do they use?
  • MC suddenly finds themselves showered in art supplies Jumin casually buys in large amounts

707

  • honestly, he’d suspected that before- but he thought it was too wild to be true
  • he’d make jokes from time to time, when a piece of art by that artist came across daily life, he’d point at it and say
    • “Hey, MC, look, your secret work! Hahahaha!”
  • MC awkwardly laughed along and dismissed the joke
  • but when he walks into MC’s studio and just, sees the art
  • oh
  • OH
  • he can’t help but find it hilarious he’d had that inkling of suspicion back then but shrugged it off thinking it was too unlikely, and it turned out to be absolutely true

Unknown

  • he sits quietly and stares at MC 
  • it’s like a cat who sits and stares, just waiting for an explanation without asking
  • MC fesses up, admitting they’ve been working in art for a while now, and use a different name to avoid recognition in their personal life
  • saeran listens carefully, and then decides to ask about the art itself
  • he wants to know about each piece and what it means to MC, and concentrate in that instead of worrying over MC using a pseudonym

V

  • MC is surprised he can recognize the art with his vision, which they know has been in decline for a while now
  • but, even so, he’s surprised when he asks MC if they’re the artist he only knows by pseudonym
  • MC isn’t that hesitant to just admit it, but embarrassed when V says he’s admired their art for a long time now, enough to recognize their style even with his rather poor eyesight
  • he doesn’t care much for the fact MC hadn’t told him
  • he knows that keeping an alias or using a pseudonym isn’t that uncommon in the art world, especially when someone likes to keep a line between work and life