porous is he

Russell T Davies on Steven Moffat

We do not know how lucky we are.

When asked to consider Steven’s finest moments, I was overwhelmed by images. Heores and villains. Battles and beauty. Monsters and children. Then I realised that I’d only got as far as 20 minutes into The Empty Child -round about the joke about Marxism and West End musicals - and had to sit down for a cup of tea.

I think, as fans, we can focus on the detail - Mondasian Cybermen! - at the risk of missing the bigger picture. That picture being, in Steven’s case, that we’ve just seen one of the greatest sci-fi body-horror thriller action-adventure romances (plus comedy) of our entire lives, beamed on to our TVs for less than 10p, written by a world-class master of his craft who’s now so in command of his talent, he’s riffing on ephemera from 1966 and turning it into gold, whisky, sex, whatever turns you on best. We truly do not know how lucky we are to have a man of this calibre writing our favourite show.

Since leaving Doctor Who, I’m approached, now and then, by strangers who remember my withered husk from Doctor Who Confidential. There’s a glint in their eye as they say, “What d’you think of it now?” An awful lot of those people are dying for me to trash it. I think, genuinely, they’re trying to achieve an intimacy. I think, nastily, they want me to say something bad so they can take it online and have some strange sort of fun. And when I say, “I love it!” they often think I’m lying.

I love it. I love every episode the man’s written. I love the other episodes he’s rewritten and I think few people know how many that is. I love the detail, I love the scale, I love the people, I love the jokes. I love the fact that Steven himself is quite down on The Beast Below. The whole of the UK on a spaceship? The whole of the UK is a spaceship? I’d retire there and then, complete. Nope, for him, it just wasn’t good enough.

I love the man, in truth, I love his mind, I love his standards, I love his rigour, his darkness, his kindness, his ambition, his love of TV. I love the man who wrote the very last line of Coupling, which shows what a lovely human being he is.

I love his women. Consider, in bad fiction, which is most fiction, how women’s roles, which have suffered so many years of neglect that they can be summarised as ‘women’s roles’, fall into the same old categories. They are reduced to the Mother, the Wife, the Daughter, the Bride. Agents of sex and childbirth, nothing more.

But then look at what Steven does with those categories. The Bride stands tall at her reception - literally in her wedding dress - and summons the Doctor back itno existence with an Old Maid’s rhyme. When the Bride has a Daughter, it’s a vital part of a galaxy-spanning revenge. The Daughter then becomes the Wife, a woman of such swagger and joy and tenderness, the Time Lord finally falls in love. We’re not done yet. A lesser category pops up, the Dominatrix, complete with eye-patch, but don’t worry, the Bride who’s the Mother of the Daughter who’s the Wife kills her stone dead! Then a lesbian travels the universe and everyone adores her. And nestling at the heart of the show is Doctor Who’s very own problem category, the Companion, a title inherently subordinate to the Man. Until Clara comes along! Companion to every single moment in the Doctor’s life. A woman so strong that in her first appearance, and her last, Death itself cannot stop her. A decade before Wonder Woman, Steven started weaving his own vast female mythology across the stars, in a funny old children’s show on Saturday teatimes.

I could mansplain all day, but the other thing I love in Steven’s writing is the complexity. I’ve heard some tiny, distant rumours that some people might have a problem with that. But I think it’s the very thing that will ensure Doctor Who’s logevity. You see, in the old days, us older fans fell in love with this show because it was porous. It had gaps. It was cheap, it was rushed, it was lovely and brave and unapologetic, using three walls in Lime Grove to create an entire Dalek invasion of Earth. All those gaps allowed us in. We imagined the offstage armies. We embraced the wobbles and bumps. If Sutekh had a secret hand on his cushion, we hooted, or invented a reason why (Clara!). But we either imagined it better, or saw how good it was underneath. Which is exactly like falling in love.

Now, the modern show has a lot more money. You can see those armies centre-stage. Gallifrey is so gorgeous, it has a spare city. Cyber-fleets can explode behind Rory’s head as a throwaway joke. And sometimes, a lossy show allows the mind the slide off. But Steven has created a brand-new porous surface. He invites us into the plots. He gives us stories which vault and somersault and double-back and trick and trap and treat. It’s not so much porous, it’s more like a great big spinning double helix and we’re clinging on, spinning for our lives, and yelling with joy. Yes, it’s complicated, but that’s wonderful. It will keep people thinking about the show forever.

Okay, my favourite moment? It’s my favourite joke. A Good Man Goes to War. Rory approaches River Song in the Storm Cage, and she says she’s been on a date with the Doctor, to the frost fair in 1814. “He got Stevie Wonder to sing for me underneath London Bridge.” And for a second, there’s that lovely shiver as you anticipae the punchline. “Don’t tell him.”

That’s a small momnt from a man who’s created empires. But a favourite joke is a beautiful thing. I just looked up the line and it turns out, I’ve long since paraphrased it, but that’s even better - like I said, Steven makes us part of the text, and now I own it! The point is, I think of that line every few days. Literally, a couple of times a week, every week. Every now and then, when I’m washing up or watching TV, or walking into town, or whatever, it pops into my head. “Don’t tell him.” And I laugh. I laugh, every single time. It’s been making me laugh for six years and it will make me laugh for the rest of my life. Very few people can write a line capable of that.

We have been so lucky.

Spatial Pursuit

Crack fic for this humans-are-space-orcs bandwagon:

“R’Xniir…are you aware that you have been purple for the past three sol rotations? It is unseemly for a Glortarn of your age.”

“I cannot control that aspect of my physiology, as you well know, Lix’tt. There have been, unexpected, stimuli in the environment of late.”

“No. I do not accept this, R’Xniir! You swore upon our brood-bearer’s stripes that you would cease entertaining these unnatural urges of yours.”

“I have tried, but our genitalia are compatible, Lix’tt!”

“Hey! How’ve you been, buddy? It’s been ages since we’ve caught up.”

R’Xniir turned a soft, luminescent fuschia beneath his personal markings as Tormund-of-Georgia embraced him, grasping his mating nerve clusters firmly in his own dextrous phalanges. Tormund was outgoing, bipedal as R’Xniir was, and fascinatingly monochromatic. Where R’Xniir’s outermost organ was hard and soft by turns, Tormund had firm muscle covered entirely with a completely soft membrane; tender, easily punctured and burned and torn, porous, yet wonderfully flexible.

He was drawn from his thoughts by Tormund’s relatively uniform extremities moving rapidly before his four, mirrored eyes.

“I lost you for a minute there. Everything alright, Rex?”

“I am well, Tormund. It is only that this past cycle has been particularly stressful.”

“That’s rough. You want to grab a beer-or whatever the equivalent is here on SxF.432-after my shift? We can get a little buzzed, bitch about work, maybe catch up a bit? I’ve missed our chats at work, ever since you were transferred to engine 4.”

“Am I to understand that you wish to become recreationally inebriated with myself to discuss work, after we have purposely vacated our place of employ?”

“That’s about the way of it.”

“I have no other engagements this sol. How many par-sol must elapse before you may leave?”

“One? Depends on how much the intern ‘fixed’ today.”

“Lix’tt, dearest of my clutch-mates…”

“If you are here to discuss your abnormal attraction to our human crewmate, I will personally ensure that your entire cache of courting tokens find new homes in the hands of the triad from PX.4.”

“And if I was to inquire on Tormund’s possible attraction to myself?”

“You are an unsavory abomination to our kind. Come in, seat yourself. When did you last interact with our Glortarn corrupting crew-mate?”

“R’Xniir, while I am reluctantly impressed that your pursuit is progressing as planned, I must inform you that this is the only boon I will grant you. It is your duty to introduce him to our other clutch-mates and sires.”

“Lix’tt. Often I contemplate where it is that your cruelty stems, and then it occurs to me that you have not experienced intercourse for two and twenty cycles.”

“Do you not have a job to see to, on the other side of this thrice-damned ship, you ungrateful reprobate?”

Many a cycle had elapsed since R’Xniir’s illuminating discussion with Lix’tt. He had carefully planned every interaction with Tormund, who had reacted favorably to R’Xniir’s demands upon his time. Tormund had taken to initiating personal contact frequently, often appearing to do so without prior thought. The sol had come. R’Xniir would make known his suit for rights to Tormund, exclusively.

“Thanks, Rex! I’ve been eyeing this for a while! How’d you get the size right?”

There was no torment in all of the nine realms of his native world that would force R’Xniir to admit to the cycles he had spent memorizing and analyzing and cataloguing every square inch of Tormund’s smooth, supple outer casing. Even if the information gathered was instrumental in acquiring the measurements for his potential mate’s new exo-suit, painted in a fashion after his own pattern of luminescent markings. No, Tormund did not need that information.

“Seriously, though, I know how much a custom suit runs these sol. Thanks, Rex. Anything you need, want, name it.”

“I do not understand. I was under the impression that companions did not require payment for gifts. I find myself to be offended. Am I not a close companion of yours, Tormund-of-Georgia?!”

“Of course you are, R’Xniir! It’s just that, usually, gifts of this calibre  are exchanged between partners, of a romantic sort.”

At this particular statement, Tormund flushed a lovely shade of red. It was no purple, but R’Xniir was not stupid. He had a chance, Tormund had accepted, he was pleased. R’Xniir’s matching flesh flared brightly in response, smug when Tormund’s attention was drawn. Was held by the vibrant display.

“I desire to be partnered with you, Tormund. I desire to please you and gift you with all that you yearn for. I desire to support you in all of your endeavors.I desire to delight in your triumphs, openly and intimately. Will you accept?”

“Well fuck me sideways.”

“Was that a yes, Tormund?”

“Definitely. But, can I play with my shiny new suit before  we get to the fun part?”

“I am disinclined to discourage you from donning my colors, Tormund-mine.”

“You smooth son-of-a-bitch.”

{Jihyo going shopping with her little sister}

Jihyo’s sister, singing Spongebob theme tune: WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER THE SEA?!

Jeongyeon, in the next aisle, unaware that Jihyo is also there: SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!



Jihyo: [Sees Jeongyeon]

Jihyo: ….

Jihyo’s sister: ……


Jihyo: [Facepalm]

Jihyo sister: [Facepalm]

The rest of TWICE who are also there for no reason: [Facepalm]

Entire world: [Facepalm]


For @cullenappreciationweek Day 5 - Friends

Rating: T/Teen (language)

“Eat it.”

“What did you put in this?”

“Things. And other things. Eat it.”

“Why did you bring this to me?”

“Maker’s hairy danglebag, just eat it, Commander Fuzzy Shoulders! It’s good, yeah? So put it in your face.”

Sera pushed the plate containing the bread-like slab purported to be cake forward. The so-called cake was a very odd shade of brown, and it had been slathered with a white substance masquerading as frosting. Sera had burst into his office claiming to have baked the thing herself, said she brought it because he looked hungry. She stood on the opposite side of his desk now, arms crossed and small foot tapping the stone floor.

Cullen leaned down and got eye level with the cube. Upon closer inspection, there were tan and dark brown chunks dispersed throughout the somewhat porous block. If he were to assume that this was truly a cake, the chunks might have been nuts of some kind. He craned his neck to get even closer. Raisins?

“Explain to me again why you brought this here,” he said, still too close to the brick that may have been food.

Sera rolled her eyes and sighed in a dramatic little display of exasperation. Her first words ran together when she answered. “Like-I-said, I saw you. You looked hungry. So I made you cake. I made it for you, and I brought it to you so you’d eat it. Then you wouldn’t be hungry, yeah?”

Cullen sat back in his chair. He crossed his arms to mirror her. His brow arched up. “Alright. What did you put in it?”

“Food. Used food to make other food. That’s what people do, innit?”

“What food did you put in this food? Feel free to be specific.” It was turning into a game. He could feel her playful energy firing off of her in waves. She was enjoying this. Had he not been so consumed with the question of whether she was attempting to drug or poison him in some way, he might also have been enjoying this. The small smirk that stretched his scar indicated that he might have been, despite his fears of vomiting or insatiable lust or the irresistible urge to quack like a duck.

“Could tell you, but some ingredients are secret. ‘S no good otherwise. You’d know how to make it, too. Can’t have that. Need you coming to me for more.”

Smug. She was being smug about this. Smug and evasive. Two could play that game.

“If it’s so delicious that I’m meant to become addicted, you must be interested in eating a bite or two yourself.” He leaned back further from the food brick.

Sera shook her head, sending her choppy blonde hair away from her face at a sharp angle. “See there? See how you see the middle? Means it’s a slice of something bigger. Means I already ate some. I’m full up.”

“Then bring me the rest of the cake. Show me where you cut another slice.”

“Pfft. Fat chance! Too heavy! Not carrying a whole cake up here to prove it’s not poisoned. Just eat it.”

Cullen eyed her, then eyed the thing she kept calling a cake. It seemed so innocuous, sitting there, not leaping off of the plate to kill him with its bare and crumbly hands. He was unaccustomed to poison. It was not a weapon he had been trained to detect or treat, beyond the varieties most commonly used by the average assassin. Sera was no average assassin. The Inquisition had been receiving a number of unusual requisitions since her arrival. For all he could tell, the stuff was laced with drake urine or hyena saliva. Maker knew what those things could do to him, beyond being revolting.

Just as he parted his lips to ask what flavor the mass was meant to be, the door behind Sera opened. Inquisitor Maxim Trevelyan strolled through, parchment in hand. His eyes were fixed on the document. “Cullen, how many troops can we spare to help—Oh! Cake!” He scurried over to Cullen’s desk with a childlike light in his eyes and hunched over the lump. “Did you make this?”

Sera squinted at Cullen before looking at Max. “Yeah. Took hours. And Fuzzy Shoulders, here, won’t eat it. Scared something’s in it.”

Max gasped. “If you won’t, do you mind if I do? I’m famished.” He had the tone of a man starved.

Cullen reached out to stop him. “I’m not certain you want to—”

“Oh, thank you,” said Max as he snatched up the plate. He dug into the slab before another sound could be uttered. Cullen’s hand hung in the air, as did the silence while Max chewed on the potentially toxic frosted wad of flaky bread.

Fear slinked up Cullen’s spine like ice. What would the Inquisition do without the Inquisitor? Who would lead them? What would happen to Sera? Would she be executed for murdering the Inquisitor? That would be a shame, Cullen thought. She had a tendency to grow on people, like a creeping ivy. Lovely to be around, but burrowed down into one’s bones so deep she could not be severed.

Max’s hum of approval shattered the silence. “This is delicious.” He did not choke or sputter. He did not seize or collapse. He took another bite, and he hummed again. “Mm. Thank you.” He turned to leave, his face buried in his plate.

“Max, did you need something from me?”

Max waved dismissively behind him. “Mm. Later.”

Sera put her hands on Cullen’s desk and hunched toward him. “Should trust me more, yeah? Maybe you don’t get any cake next time. Maybe I stuff your face with it myself.” She shrugged, and followed Max out of the room, holding up two fingers over her shoulder in a rude gesture.

Cullen cast a wry grin her way. “Perhaps I should trust you less.”

He knew full well he did not mean a word of it.


Swinging kisses (Jacob Frye X Reader)

how would jacob react to his girlfriend dipping him down and kissing him?

His steps were light and airy. Not at all what one would expect from the muscular man below you. “Come on out my little Rookie!” Jacob silently walked around the abandoned warehouse.

This morning, you two decided a day of fun was in order, and who could complain about a little game of hiding and seek? At least you could tell Evie you spent the day training. The place was dark and cold. Long evicted of people after Jacob liberated it. The machines had long since been shut off and now it was riddled with rats, bugs, and soggy wood. The air smelled like the rest of London, musky and thick with coal.

You giggled as you walked along the porous wooden rafters. He somehow didn’t know you were there until it creaked slightly from your weight. The noise, although slim, would surely catch Jacob’s attention. You needed to think of something. Fast. That is if you wanted to win this two-hour long game. Until you felt around your pockets to find a lonesome stone in it. Both of your smoke bombs were gone and you didn’t bother to stock up before the two of you left the train late in the morning.

Jacob noticed this and started walking slowly to where he could climb. His gentle laugh filling the vast and empty space, reverberating off of the walls in a golden hue. “I know where you are, Love. Might as well show yourself.” It was almost as if he was teasing you. His voice was as smug as his walk. But you still had a trick up your sleeve.

You tossed the pebble from your pocket in and underhand motion. The little noise it made was just enough to make his head and body turn as he tried to see what it was that made a thunk somewhere off in the distance. Your smirk was stretched across your face, feeling far too clever for your own good.

“Where is…” Jacob trailed off, his eye narrowing with focus. Not caring about the little noise you made from hanging by your hands. Right behind him. Your nose was just inches from the back of his head. His scent filled your nostrils. Jacob always smelled like coal and steel. Something that reminded you of the colour grey. Speaking of which, now that you looked closer, he was also getting some grey hairs among his brown head.

Jacob turned around abruptly, surprised until your lips found their way onto his. He kissed back and tried to dominate you. Jacob made you sway a little bit backwards as you still were only hanging down by your arms. In order to steady you, he gently grabbed your face. Making the kiss only deeper and more passionate. But, alas, you two finally had to catch your breath.

“Found you,” He whispered. The egotistical smirk he wore did things to you. It was infectious as one spread across your features.

“Sure you did,” You playfully added. Going in for another kiss. This time, however, he held you as you dropped into his arms. His leather jacket caressing you as he lovingly kissed you.

This will probably not actually be my final word on the subject, knowing me, but here goes -

the deal with Homestuck has always been that the barrier between fanwork and canon is porous.  He borrowed a lot from us over the years, and we, god knows, took a lot from him, but it goes beyond that - the Homestuck universe is set up in such a way that every comic, every sketch, every piece of writing anyone has ever done about the kids is something that might have happened, somewhere in paradox space.  (Ideally not actually in Paradox Space, but you get the idea.)

The upshot of this is that if you’re bummed that your favorite character didn’t get a satisfying ending, if they were left with loose plot points and motivations flapping in the breeze, or were literally dumped in a fridge, or whatever, there is probably something out there that fixes that problem.  Some fic, some AU, something.  And if there isn’t, you can make it yourself.

HS was a collaborative work from the beginning.  If we look at the text itself, it’s hard to see anything but a massive fuckup, but if we zoom out and take in everything that was created around it - well, it’s still a massive fuckup, but it is a fuckup of such fractal, unearthly beauty, of such inhuman size and unspeakable complexity, that a kind of dignity begins to emerge.  Let that fuckup be your guide.   And if you need something and are willing to dig long and deep enough in that malodorous pile, I guarantee you: there’s a pony in there somewhere.  A pony just for you.

anonymous asked:

Are you ready kids? "Aye Aye Captain" I can't hear you! "AYE AYE CAPTAIN" Oohh...Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? "Spongebob Squarepants" Absorbent and yellow and porous is he! "Spongebob Squarepants" If nautical nonsense be something you wish "Spongebob Squarepants" Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish! "Spongebob Squarepants" READY? Spongebob Squarepants Spongebob Squarepants Spongebob Squarepants SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS! AH AHH AHH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHH..


  • What she says: I'm fine
  • What she means: Are you ready, kids?
  • I said, are you ready?
  • Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
  • Spongebob Squarepants
  • Absorbent and yellow and porous is he
  • Spongebob Squarepants
  • If nautical nonsense be something you wish
  • Spongebob Squarepants
  • Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish
  • Spongebob Squarepants
  • Spongebob Squarepants
  • Spongebob Squarepants
  • Spongebob Squarepants
  • Spongebob Squarepants

starter for @chainsxwsmile !

The Cove Beast was, in Robert’s opinion, one of the less interesting cryptids of the area. For starters, it wasn’t even alliterative, and “Bay Beast” or “Cove Creature” were right there. That was just poor showmanship. The Dover Ghost and the Wailing Wharfman had far more pizzazz and also more involved backstories.

But Robert had actually seen the Cove Beast.

People sometimes sent in photos to local news of the cresting backs of sharks or particularly fat dolphins that, if you squinted and turned your head just right, might be construed as something more otherworldly. But the witnesses with real chops were the ones who saw a hulking scaly creature on land.

This sucker could walk.

And Robert was one of those witnesses. It had only been a glimpse. He was driving at an overpass that skirted the beach, and out of the window he saw a big blue mass lumbering into a grotto of wet porous sea rock. He pulled over and everything, but by the time he was out of his car with phone prepared, the thing was gone.

He wanted to see it again. In fact, that was just about the only thing that could drag Robert out of bed this early in the morning. He wanted to comb the beach in the same area right before dawn, when the tide was low and presumably giant sea monsters might want to go for a stroll. He had his sunglasses clipped to his shirt, his usual leather jacket protecting against the chill of the salty morning breeze off the sea. He was also carrying some uglier knives than usual, just in case.

He hadn’t brought Betsy, though. If push came to shove, he didn’t want to find out whether the Cove Beast had a taste for boston terriers.

For spans of sand and tide pool-infested boulders, he was alone. His boots slipped on the wet rocks so he picked his steps carefully, hands in his pockets, trying not to crush any squidgy sponges underfoot and even more not to crunch on a hidden sea urchin out in the open.

There was a stillness to the air that made him excited, like something was definitely waiting to happen, as he made his way toward that familiar grotto at the end of the beach.

Loreli( lorcan and elide) kiss scene from Lorcans POV

Since it seemed like no one else would do it I did it. I’m pretty sure my lorcan has more monologue that the original one but it kind of happened if i do another fanfic I’ll try to make it better. Critique is well received.

Lorcan was lying next to Elide using his own body as a wall, any threat that might come to their provisory camp would have to face him before getting to her, any threat would die at his hands before it could even touch a hair on her head. Lorcan was staring at the night sky as was Elide when a feral roar sounded in the distance. He could feel Elide go stiff next to him and he could smell her fear. When life slowly restated he murmured “Sleep, Elide”. She was still scared he knew that and he couldn’t exactly blame her, this night he wouldn’t sleep either. He was eager to get out of this place as soon as possible. “ What was that?” she asked after swallowing hard.“One of the beasts—either a mating call or territorial warning.” that the territorial warning could be meant for them he didn’t mentioned,she needed sleep and this wouldn’t improve his chances of convincing her to do so. “Tell me about her,” Elide whispered. “Your queen.”“I doubt it’ll help you sleep any better.” Meaves tale wasn’t exactly a goodnight story. He felt her eyes on him as she turned to look and him and asked “Will she truly kill you for what you’ve done?” he nodded. It was true Meave would kill him he had no doubt in this, his Queen wasn’t a forgiving person not like the girl lying next to him, they were nothing alike “Yet you risk it—for her sake.” a pause then “Do you love her?” Yes he loved her as far as a person like him could love someone, she saved him gave him a porous, and he felt attracted to her from the first moment. He looked at her trying to understand the reason for these questions “I have been in love with Maeve since I first laid eyes on her.” an honest answer even though he still wasn’t sure why.
“Are you—are you her lover?” “No. I offered once. She laughed at me for the insolence.” She laughed and then told him that she would never even consider taking a half-breed bastard to her bed.“So I have made myself invaluable in other ways.”
A roar sounded in the distance again, but Lorcan was to hypnotisied by her beautiful red lips parting like she wanted to ask him something. Turning her attention back to him she said “Perhaps she uses your love to her own advantage. Perhaps it’s in her best interest to drag you along. Maybe she’ll change her mind when you seem the most likely to … leave.” “I am blood-sworn to her. I will never leave.”
She looked hurt as she sharply said “Then she can rest assured knowing you’ll pine after her for eternity.” he didn’t understood where this interest in his love life came from but as she made to turn back to look at the sky again he stopped her on instinct holding her chin. Peering into her eyes trying to see across that carefully chosen expression he clarified “Do not make the mistake of believing me to be a romantic fool ( sounds like a lie to me but ok). I do not hold any shred of hope for her.” “Then that does not seem like love at all.”
“And what do you know of love?” he leaned in closer wanting to appreciate the sharp answer she would give him at it fullest. But instead her voice was calm, lovingly when she said “I think love should make you happy,” her expression turned distant,as if thinking about something of so long ago but still marvelously beautiful “It should make you into the best possible version of yourself.” But Lorcan wasn’t going to give up he wanted his sharp answer so he said fully intending to provoke her “Are you implying I am neither of those things?”
“I don’t think you even know what happiness is.”
He thought about it, he thought that fighting Maeves wars, bedding strangers and going on missions was being happy, but what did it mean that he had had more fun and felt more at ease with himself traveling with this Lady that he did with his sentinels or anyone else. “I do not mind … being around you.” an honest answer again, it was becoming an habit to give her what she asks for and what she doesn’t ask for.
“Is that a compliment?”
He smiled indeed it was a compliment and more. Suddenly she was reaching between them with trembling hand. She touched his lips an Lorcans world stopped. His heart stopped, his lungs went on strike and his mind followed their example. He didn’t knew what to think what to do, how to breath and all this caused by this woman in front of him. She traced the contours of his mouth, slowly. When her fingers reached the corner of his lips he turned his face, resting his cheek against her palm. She started to slowly brush her thumb over the plane of his cheekbone. Like this , like this he could sleep as if they were not surrounded by beast with her hands on him. Her hands on him, suddenly his thoughts went to how it would feel to have her hands all over him if on palm on his cheek could calm him and drive him insane and the same time. He forbid him self to explore those thoughts she was a lady and he was a walking dead male, they were not meant to be. “I would hide you. In Perranth. If you … if you do what you need to do, and need somewhere to go … You would have a place there. With me.” Her words ripped him out of his current state of mind, this girl was offering him a home and he wanted so badly to accept but… “I would be a dishonored male—it’d reflect poorly upon you.”
“If anyone thinks that, they would have no place in Perranth.”
He swallowed “Elide, you need to—” but before he could finish his statement she leaned forward and touched his lips with hers. If her hand on his lips had caused his world to stop, then her lips made it burn. He was trembling, trembling from restrain and mild anger. Why the heck hadn’t he ever felt like this in his 500 years of existence. Why had this girl so much power over him.“You don’t need to answer me now. Or ever. You could show up on my doorstep in ten years, and the offer would still stand. But there is a place for you, in Perranth—if you should ever need or wish for it.” she offered again. She was offering him something no one else ever did a home without condition without having to prove himself. He let his instincts take over and slowly leaned closer connecting his mouth with hers, he was expecting her to slap him,to say that she was a lady and he clearly beneath her status. she did nothing like it, so kissed one corner of her mouth then the other. He stroke her hair back and his hands patiently traveled along her body, over her hips her lips slightly touching her breast. It felt like a dream when she lifted her own hands to his face and dragged her fingers into his hair as she arched up into him his body went wild. She was beautiful, this was beautiful having her arch to him instead of screaming and looking down at him was something he never considered possible. Lorcan’s tongue brushed against the seam of her mouth, and Elide opened up for him. A deep groan sounded in his throat as his tongue came in contact with hers. Her softness against his hardness so perfect so delicious.His hips grinded against hers demanding more hoping for more, her own body undulate against his in answering his question with her own demand. He kissed her deeper at that request, a hand sliding down to grip her thigh, spreading her legs a bit wider so he could settle fully between her thin. And as his body lined up against her perfectly she was panting, she grounded herself against him, and lorcan grabbed her backside to help her reach her goal. Happy with that position Lorcan tore his mouth from hers and kissed her jaw, her neck, her ear. She was trembling—not with fear, but with want her realized. His lips started moving on breathing her name over and over onto her skin. He was begging, praying elide would not regret it he wanted her to like it and maybe even want more.She took his face in her hands, finding his eyes blazing, his breathing as ragged as her own. She ran a finger from his cheek to his torso, her finger like ice against his heated skin. Lorcan heart was racing in a wild pace that he never experienced before like it would just bust out of his chest, his hips drove into her, begging for something that he knew she would never give him. She lifted her head to kiss him, and as her mouth again met his, she whispered her answer—
His attention was dragged away from her body still trembling with want from something dragging on him begging for his attention.

my life is literally that scene in spongebob where he realizes he’s porous and so every time he plugs one pore up he bursts at the seams out another

truth tea peace out

  • radio host: alright iggy let us hear a free style
  • iggy: *sweats nervously*
  • iggy: Are you ready kids "Aye Aye Captain"
  • I Can't hear you "AYE AYE CAPTAIN"
  • Ohh...
  • Who lives in a pineapple under the sea
  • "Spongebob squarepants"
  • Absorbant and yellow and porous is he
  • "Spongebob Squarepants"
  • If nautical nonsense be something you wish
  • "Spongebob Squarepants"
  • Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish
  • "Spongebob Squarepants"
  • Spongebob squarepants
  • Spongebob squarepants
  • Spongebob squarepants

anonymous asked:

Are you ready kids?
"Aye Aye Captain!!"
I can't hear you?!
Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
"SpongeBob SquarePants!"
Absorbent and yellow and porous is he
"SpongeBob SquarePants!"
If nautical nonsense be something you wish!
"Spongebob Squarepants!"
Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish!
"Spongebob Squarepants!"
SpongeBob SquarePants!
SpongeBob SquarePants!
SpongeBob SquarePants!


5sos pref: Singing in the shower

Ashton: “My old aches become new again, my old friends become exes again!” Ashton belts out, singing at the top of his lungs, with the sound of the shower in the background. While Ashton normally doesn’t sing that much onstage, when he’s in the shower he lets loose. You’re sitting outside of the bathroom door with Instagram video recording, trying your hardest not to laugh and let Ashton know you’re there, if he could even hear over his singing and the shower. The shower stops and you quickly upload the video, leaving no caption but tagging Ashton while running back to your spot on the couch. Ashton comes out a few minutes later and checks his phone, which is now blowing up with twitter mentions and Instagram comments. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what you’ve done and he looks up at you with narrowed eyes. “You bitch,” he says, pouncing on you and starting to tickle you.

Calum: “And your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck, I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.” The boys had gone out to the studio to record and you had decided to take a nice long shower, and make an impromptu performance. You were using your shampoo bottle as a microphone and singing at the top of your lungs. You sung around the boys all the time, but normally tried to make your voice sound good, whereas now you were just trying to be the loudest you could be. After finishing the song, you turn off the shower only to hear clapping and whooping coming from the other side of the door. You wrap the towel around you and peek through the crack in the door to see all the boys standing outside the bathroom and trying their hardest not to laugh.

Michael (his pov): The boys and I had gone out to a party leaving (Y/N) behind because she didn’t feel so well, but it was full of stuck up people that we didn’t know so we left early. We were just stepping into the house, trying to be quiet because (Y/N) had a headache earlier, when Luke suddenly stopped. “Keep going, what’s wrong?” I hissed, shoving him forward. He only held up a finger and we all stopped and listened. At first I couldn’t hear anything but then I heard faint singing coming from upstairs. “Ring out the bells again, like we did when spring began, wake me up when september ends.” The lyrics to one of my favorite songs come floating down the stairs. “Is that (Y/N)?” Ashton asks with big eyes. We all run up the stairs as quietly as we can to see (Y/N) sitting on our bed with her back to us, headphones in, singing. Her voice is the prettiest I’ve ever heard, and I wonder why she doesn’t sing more. She suddenly turns around, her eyes big and surprised, and embarrassed. Cal slowly starts clapping, awe written all over his face and the rest of us join in, (Y/N) blushing furiously.

Luke: The boys were coming over to your flat for a sleepover and you had gone to pick them up, returning to find that Luke was in the shower. You walked into the house, only to start laughing when you recognized the lyrics to the song that he was singing. “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Spongebob squarepants! Absorbans and yellow and porous is he, Spongebob squarepants!” Luke sings loudly, the bathroom echoing his singing. You and the rest of the boys are having laughing fits and rolling around on the floor outside the bathroom when he steps out, a towel wrapped around his waist. When he realizes that you guys have heard him singing, his face flushes bright red and he ducks his head and runs to your shared room with you and the boys’ laughter ringing behind him.

A/N: I was laughing so hard while writing luke’s! enjoy!

anonymous asked:

Are you ready kids? "Aye Aye Captain" I can't hear you! "AYE AYE CAPTAIN" Oohh... Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? "Spongebob Squarepants" Absorbant and yellow and porous is he! "Spongebob Squarepants" If nautical nonsense be something you wish "Spongebob Squarepants" Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish! "Spongebob Squarepants" READY? Spongebob Squarepants Spongebob Squarepants Spongebob Squarepants SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS! AH AHH AHH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHH...