she's just like the weather

2

The Tullys drew their strength from the river, and it was to the river they returned when their lives had run their course.


She almost bit her lip again, but this time she caught herself and stopped. My face is a dark pool, hiding everything, showing nothing. 

`、ヽ  `ヽ`⚡ ヽ`、  ヽ``、  
a thunder shower makes for a cozy hour 

The companion piece to Himawari’s room. And another collab between ammeja (who did the incredible drawing) + me (who did the animation)! Everyone could use a good thunderstorm and blanket fort every now and then ⚡ 

Marinette’s habits/mannerisms reference

I wanted to make a list of all of Marinette’s habits because i’ve for some reason always wanted to see all the little things she does set out on like a list out of curiosity cause she has a bunch of them. I thought some people might find this interesting or might find it useful for comics, fanart, fanfictions, etc. So I did a little research and yeah, here we go.

Keep reading

2

a goblin with an actual angel. 😭😇🌟

everyone should go see courtney act’s ‘the girl from oz’ at edinburgh fringe if they get the chance! she is unbelievably talented, charming & hilarious 💛

Parking Lots and Velvet Skies

A/N: Based on the song Carry Me, by Kygo and Julia Michaels

Like a flag after a war, when you’re gone or when you’re first born, could you carry me?

There was something about the way he held onto her hand so tightly, that made her stomach twist, but in a good way. His fingers fit perfectly with hers, and his touch was as smooth as his cheesy pick up lines, that funnily enough always worked well on her. She wished to be carried by him like a child at all times, she wished to be in his arms as much as possible. A favorite thing of hers to do was lay in his hotel bed on late nights after spontaneous dates, and pretend to be asleep just so she could feel him move her in his arms and gently place himself down next to her. He probably would’ve done that anyway, even if he knew she was awake, but for some reason it felt more romantic when she let the stress in her bones leave her, and let him carry the weight of her heart in his hands. She had never been so beautifully in love with someone, until him. He was the singing in her soul, the smile on her lips. He made the starts shine brighter, and he knew exactly how to make her laugh when she needed it.

“I wish we could always be together.” She vividly remembers whispering these words against his lips, with a few tears rolling down her cheeks as he prepared to get onto another plane to leave her yet again. Missing someone before they even left, was the worst feeling in the entire world. Will he forget about me? Will he come back and not love me anymore? These were frequently asked questions in her own mind, and she worried constantly. But their connection was strong enough to hold everything together, and he calmed her worried feelings.

“We are always together. Always always always.” He would say and she instantly felt better. Even if they weren’t together physically, they were still always together in spirit, and they were still desperately in love with each other. Or at least she was, and she always would be, even when times were tough.

I don’t know how we, how we got so far you and me. Almost like there’s oceans between us.

Months went by, and feelings changed just like the weather. Every nightmare she had came true and the whole world came crashing down. He was meeting new girls, and finding new sentiments. She was becoming nothing but the dust in the air that got caught on his coat every once in a while, but only for him to brush off. The goodnight texts stopped, the constant FaceTiming was no longer essential to their busy lives. Phone calls and long sappy texts became surprises, and she jumped in excitement whenever she heard her phone go off. But something was different. Different in his tone, different in the way he worded his messages. He was becoming so heartbreakingly distant, and the small oceans that always seemed to be between them became big. These large beautiful oceans in the middle of their love were not beautiful anymore. They were polluted and dirty, and the bright sun that reflected off the water, was now dim. Her heart shattered at the thought of him falling out of love with her. She didn’t want to believe it and she refused to let him slip away so easily.

“I want to go back to way things were before you left. Come back to me, please.” She pleaded over the phone one night, her voice cracking.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” His response tore down the towers that their love had built. He was giving up, and now so was she.

Remember when we would dance all night, and make love till the morning light?

Every day was a tragic and painful battle. She finally accepted the fact that he just wasn’t in love with her anymore, and as miserable as she was, in this time she learned how to love herself. She became more brave than ever, and stronger than the girl she was before. It was quite a marvelous feeling for her to be at peace with her loneliness, but of course there were still bad nights. She would come across old photos of past summer sunsets in her camera roll, and that one evening they drove around aimlessly in random parking lots just to chase the velvet skies.

“Beautiful.” He would mumble gently against her neck, as he kissed each freckle he came across as he skimmed her skin with his lips. Watching sunsets while sitting in the car was their favorite thing to do together, and she remembers very clearly how happy it always made her. They’d wait for the stars to come out before they took off to the nearest hotel, stumbling into a room high off of each other. She would place her toes on his, and he would take the lead, dancing slowly across the carpeted floor. He would throw his head back in laughter each time she’d accidentally trip over his feet, and she would just silence the laughter by kissing him. Kissing him hard enough to fall back onto the bed behind them, and they’d tangle themselves in the sheets, magically getting to know each part of each other’s bodies until the sun came back up in the morning. As she reminisced of past memories, she’d use all her new strength and bravery to keep her tears in, as she wondered if he ever thought about her in this way too. All she wanted to know was if he missed her the way she missed him.

I was there for you and you were there for me.

His busy life was something he thought would get in the way of his brain bringing up when he was with her. But he was wrong. Nothing in the entire world was ever able to stop him from remembering the way she smiled at the light coming through the curtains in the morning. He was as broken as his phone that he threw across the room the night he stupidly decided to break it off. All of his friends constantly nagged him for it, and asked him if he was okay.

“You’re doing this to yourself man.”

“I know it’s hard, but we need you to focus.”

Such things being said to him all the time were only making it worse. They were right though. He had put this upon himself, and he hated that. Keeping up with her on social media through mutual friends was done often. Seeing how much a different person she was since he left made him wonder if he should ever go back to her. And that’s when he made that decision. Maybe now that she was stronger and happier, he could find the power to go back, maybe even ask her what she did to become so happy. He finally decided he didn’t want to live without her, and so he left his unfinished tasks, and drove to her apartment building hoping that she still even lived there. It had only been a few months, but they were awful. Each day he forced himself not to bother her with his pathetic excuses of why she should take him back. He had really thought that he fell out of love with her, but after living months without her he realized he never stopped loving her. Screaming crowds and flashing lights were all things that kept his blood pumping, they were all things that made him feel alive. And he was happy, but not as happy as he was before. He was missing something. He was missing her. She made him feel awake. Awake in a world that’s asleep.

After he left, he continued to go down in a spiral of fear. He missed when she was there to calm him in these times. She’d run her hands through the mess of waves that sat on his head, and she would whisper loving words into his ear. Her breath against his cheek was something he missed dearly, and he realized how often she was there for him. He hated himself for not being there for her as much as she was for him. And that’s why he took off, wanting to change that.

Could you carry me, back into your distant hands?

The cold water ran over her hands and then down the drain, into the ground. Washing dishes in her own apartment made her feel like such a grown up, or a mother. She had been washing for so long that all the hot water ran out, and now her fingers were frozen and wrinkly. She finally turned off the water to dry her hands when she heard the sound of someone knocking on the door. Oh no, she thought. Another one of her annoying neighbors coming to complain about how her music was too loud, although right now it wasn’t that loud. She dreadfully walked over to the door to open it, seeing a face she did not expect to see.

It was him. The boy whom she loved with every inch of her soul, the boy who left her to wonder what she did wrong. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his eyes drained of any energy and his hair a tangled mess. He looked genuinely sad, as if his life were in shambles, yet he was still the face she used to kiss every night before closing her eyes to sleep. He was still beautiful in a sense that made her heart pound, and she just stared at him in confusion not knowing what words she should let escape her lips first. She couldn’t decide, so she just went for the first thing she thought when she opened the door.

“What are you doing here?” Her heart was hardened ever since he left it to break into pieces. She couldn’t put her finger on why he thought it was okay to just show up uninvited.

“I wanted to come home.” He said, his eyes watering. They stared at each other both in awe at how different they looked. She was stunning as always to him, but now even more so. She radiated power and independence. He on the other hand, was a jumble of missing puzzle pieces. She was confused as to why he seemed so upset without her, but at the same time she was almost happy. She loved him, and she wanted the best for him, but knowing that he missed her for all these past months, softened her hard heart.

“Please let me in. I need you, I’ve always needed you. I’m sorry I ever left.” He ran his fingers through the nest on his head, and his eyes let a few tears fall. And so she let him in, closing the door behind him without saying a word just to see if he would say anything else. After all, he did have some explaining to do.

“I was so stupid Y/N. After being without you for so long I realized that I never stopped loving you. And I know you’re happy now, and you probably won’t take me back, but I just had to come and apologize for leaving you the way I did.” He turned his body so he could face her, and tears rolled down his face as he spoke, his eyelashes fluttering. He used the back of his hand to wipe them away, and he looked down at the carpet every now and then to seem tough or something. He was still the same guy who she had fallen in love with so long ago, and she still got butterflies just from looking at him. His short but sweet apology was all she needed to grab his flushed face into her hands. She used her fingers to wipe away the rest of the his tears and she looked right at him.

“Just tell me you missed me as much as I missed you.” She let out weakly, on the verge of breaking down.

“I missed you way more Y/N.” His hands found her waist and their foreheads were touching now. His words were enough for her delicate heart. She wanted to be more indestructible than before, and she wanted to yell at him and tell him to leave, tell him that there was no way she would take him back after the way he just left her. But she never stopped loving him, and knowing that just maybe he never stopped loving her, is what did it. And so her lips met his and there was a tender energy between them. She hadn’t tasted him for so long, and this was new. He was new. Still strong, sweet, and gentle. But more genuine, and more loving. He couldn’t even continue the kiss without breaking down right there and saying, “I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you.” So she held onto him tightly, and rubbed his head the way she used to. He relaxed at her touch and she was now kissing his head and whispering kind words into his ears just like she always did whenever he couldn’t handle himself.

“I can’t go any longer.” He said quietly into her neck as they now sat on the living room floor. She didn’t exactly know what he meant, but she knew that he was upset, and that broke her heart. Her arms were wrapped tightly around him, and she held him like a child, treating him with all the love she had for this boy. He could have his hands around her neck, threatening to take her life and she’d still do anything for him.

“Then let me carry you until you can.” She said before placing a soft kiss on his head, hoping that her words would comfort him. He may not have been there for her when he left, but there was always going to be a soft spot in her heart for him, and she promised him a while ago that she’d always be there to carry him when he needed it.

a/n: so, I’ve been slow with catching up with the 100 lately (exams do that to you), but today I finally got the chance to watch the latest episode. and let me tell you, I wanted to throw something at my screen. clarke’s conflicting emotions over her decision and how it affects bellamy (and her mother) vs. bellamy’s drive to save his sister and the need to prove clarke’s skepticism wrong, all brought to a sudden end when the scene cuts off with clarke bringing her hand down and letting bellamy go. i’m sorry, where’s my resolve? emotional backlash? hurt feelings? where’s my bellamy and clarke get to talk like in season 3 where he confronts her about her leaving him? where’s my bellamy telling her off her high horse? where’s my clarke says she’s sorry scene? where’s my- well, you get it. 

and since i got nothing of that, i decided to spin my take on it. so have a 4x11 missing scene that will hopefully let you breathe a little easier (worked for me)


together or not at all (ao3)

He looked at her one last time, at the gun hanging from her hand, at her face - and God, Clarke felt that look spreading like poison through her lungs, making every breath a struggle - and then kept on climbing the stairs, heavy steps fading into nothing as he neared the hatch.

Her fingers were numb from clutching the gun, her wrist hurting from the pressure of having it pointed at him and not wanting to shoot him at the same time. Her eyes stung from her tears and the air rattled inside her ribcage. Then, like a puppet having had its strings cut, she stumbled back few steps, feeling dizzy, weak, and leaned on the wall behind her, sliding down on the floor, the gun slipping from her hand.

The tears keep on sliding down her cheeks and she doesn’t try to fight them. She figured that was how the monuments of the Old World felt when the nuclear bombs hit them - empty, cold, crumbling to dust, big hunks of stone and metal reduced to shadows of themselves, having lost all that made them stand proud and represent an idea.

Her left hand, the one that had pulled the trigger on him, was shaking. Clarke brought it to her face and laughed, let out a sob, was this what she had become?

One sob turned into a second one, into a third one, until she was heaving with the force of her crying, arms around her legs and pulled tight against her body, rocking back and forth in a desperate attempt to keep the panic away.

She had let Bellamy open the bunker. She had doomed her people to a possible death. She had risked the fate of the human race. She had lied and gone behind the backs of people she had claimed to care about only for it to be just another hollow promise, another hollow explanation,  another deceit born out of desperation and having the world rest on her shoulders.

She took a shot but couldn’t pull the trigger, not on him. And there laid the problem.

Her ears still rang with the sound of Bellamy’s voice, with the noise from the bullet. When did she become this girl, this woman? When did she lose herself in the desperate attempt to always have all the answers, to always be right?

Keep reading

fic; the rain peasants

standalone; pg-13; fluff; msr ust; missing scene/one bed for the rain king; Mulder and Scully discuss what it’d be like to control the weather.

A/N: My one bed fic! I Can’t Believe It’s Not PWP

***

“Do you mind the T.V.? I can turn it off.”

“No, I don’t mind. Just keep the volume low, please.”

“You got it.”

Whatever is playing, it’s benign, popular and impersonal – funny, aluminum isn’t his style. Maybe it’s for her benefit? Can’t really share a bed with your coworker and take the edge off with pornography, can you. But maybe Mulder likes sit-coms. Maybe he needs to be told when to laugh. His sense of humor is… growing on her. After six years. But who doesn’t need a little help now and then? Oh, christ. That’s pathetic. He huffs out a laugh beside her, perfectly in time with the tin-can-track, and she knows that at least she isn’t alone. 

“Mulder?” she asks quietly. He goes completely still, and it’s obvious why – there you go again, Scully, getting me alone in cramped quarters and asking me obscenely difficult questions. She does like catching him off guard. There’s something in the way he looks at her when she goes a little nuts – like an x-file, like a mind-melting, course-of-history-changing x-file, and there is something in being that adored. And feared. She enjoys the fear just as much.

However, this is different. This case bothers her, and it ain’t got nothing to do with hicks or being confused for Mulder’s little wife.

“What’s up, Mrs. Mulder?” Tight and nervous. Scully smiles into her pillow. He’s so rarely nervous.

“I’ve been thinking about the case.” 

“It’s about time you took your work seriously.”

“Shut up, Mulder.” She gives him a moment to stop the next asinine comment before it arrives and he manages, just barely. “Let’s say, for the sake of conversation, it is possible for one man to dictate the state of the atmosphere in his little corner of the world.” 

“Okay, Scully. I’ll say that.”

“What if it were you?” she asks. There’s no missing the sincerity in her voice. Mulder may deflect – maybe he’ll make a joke, make some kind of pass, make some kind of obscure reference to a man who really did control the weather, hundreds of years ago, a man who swapped rain for mead and sleet for wool – but it won’t be without guilt. She’s okay with letting him make that choice. “What would the weather be like if your emotions were controlling it?”

A beat passes: he’s considering. The bed sharing makes it more dangerous, but regardless of his response they will wake up spooning in the morning. That’s the way it always happens, and he always freaks out more than her. Had he offered to take the floor this time, though? No. Every other time, yes. But not tonight. 

“Right now?” he asks lowly. “Right now, or in general?”

He’s taking her seriously. It smarts that she’s so pleased. 

“Right now, first,” she decides. She needs to know how much he’s willing to share before she goes all in. 

“Right now… it’d be raining pizza,” he snickers to himself, and Scully loses a sliver of confidence in the both of them. 

“Well,” she replies easily, masking the hurt with her own brand of indifference. “I told you to eat before we got back to the court.” 

“We’ve evolved to stay up past eight p.m., Scully. Nocturnal, diurnal, it all means nothing in our little corner of the world. You forget people live like this.” Silence. “Scully?” She doesn’t reply. 

She’s putting all of her effort into finding some semblance of sleep – you purposefully withheld information from me about this case and now I’m going to have to defend it’s necessity to Kersh without mentioning you actually fucking believe people can make it rain with their mind – when his hand covers her shoulder, a cautious, piddling touch. They really are different in bed. He snatches it back like he’s been burned, but then he replaces it with purpose. 

“I’ll tell you both, Scully.” He tugs on her shoulder when she doesn’t respond. “Roll over. C’mon, Scully.” 

She’s pissed that he’s now somehow made this all seem like his idea, like he’s the one taking the leaps. She rolls over just to glare at him and his face melts into a soft smile at her withering look. 

“I sure am glad you’re not in control of the weather right now.” He pets her nose and lets his body relax in a position mirroring hers, while she fights the urge to bite him. They’re both slightly uncomfortable with the situation, noticeably so, and their hunched backs make them look like parentheses. 

“I’m not sure the cattle industry could take such a devastating financial hit,” she says caustically. His smile widens. It’s sleepy in the light of the television, and easy. Another rare version of Mulder. Sleepy and easy are never words she’d typically use to describe him. 

“Go on, then.” 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly lying about the pizza. I’m starving. I have tears in my eyes.”

“I have some granola bars,” she offers kindly. A shadow falls over his face. 

“The ones with the flax seeds? God, no.” Relaxing again, his voice turns contemplative, both dreamy and a little dismal.  “But in general? I can’t really tell you, Scully. I’d assume it’d be very much like the rest of me.”

“Capricious.”

“You could say that,” he says dryly, looking away from her. A moment of silence, then: “Sometimes I could probably upend whole towns.”

I don’t think you have it in you, Scully thinks. Her face remains impassive when he grows theatrical, too loud and too convinced of his own hilarity in the middle of the night. 

“I could lift roads from the ground, Scully. Municipal buildings would crumble – I’d have to work up to the state legislature. There would be ice, there would be rain …” he pauses. “Maybe not fire.”

Gently, “Because of your fear?”

“No, not that.” He shakes his head. “I’m just not very good at rebuilding from scratch.” Perhaps that was too personal, because he flippantly amends: “But who among us is? I don’t think we’re made for it.”

People create life every day – they have babies, build houses, tear down governments, hoist them back up. It’s a never-ending cycle of starting anew; controlled burns are a way of life. But Scully recognizes that might be too literal an answer to what he’s suggesting.

He shoots a look at her, but she’s shifted on her back to stare at the television. The middle-aged white male lead is drinking a beer.

“But who knows how long that would last? Years, maybe minutes.” He turns and watches with her. A woman yells at her husband. Ha!Ha!Ha!

He continues while watching. “I guess that’s the frightening part. Most of us can just feel without inserting too much meaning into it all. But Holman Hardt spends each day in a hellish atmospheric vacuum of his own creation, cowering under the force of his own fragile emotional state.” 

“While other people are suffering,” Scully adds. “And he can’t do a thing to stop it.” 

Mulder lets out an amused rush of air. “We should become motivational life coaches. I’m feeling the power.” 

“You aren’t like that all the time,” Scully says, a little fiercely. He’s okay sometimes. He doesn’t hurt all the time. “You’re not always so… tumultuous. You’re fine right now.” 

They both turn to look at each other. “No,” he says. “I’m not like that all the time.” 

She’s quiet. He prods, “Okay, Scully, spill. What about you?”

“Right now, or in general?”

He repeats her words back to her. “Right now, first.” 

“I’m not sure my answers would be all that different,” she admits. This is what scares her. It’s not possible for one man to control the weather – and how very lucky they are that this is so – but if it were her… “Right now, or in general.” 

What little impact she’d have on the world. The realization depresses the hell out of her. What Mulder described: heart shaped ice cubes? Rose petals? Cows catapulting through court windows? Men cannot control the weather – human bodies cannot even withstand certain atmospheric pressures, let alone bend them to their will – but… where’s her creativity? When did she start feeling this way: not at all?

“That… does not seem right,” Mulder says. He’s itching to prove her wrong already.

“There have been some–” Scully pauses to choose her words carefully. “Difficult. There have been some difficult moments in the last few years of my life.” Mulder snorts derisively, more at himself than at her. “In all of the years of my life, Mulder, just like anyone else.” 

She wonders what he imagines her like, dictating the weather with her moods. There are probably more cows. What kind of storm encapsulates the strength of her eye rolling? Damn, is it easy to make herself annoyed with Mulder when she tries. How could you think of me like that?

“What would it be like?” he asks softly, eyeing her with genuine interest. She’s almost embarrassed to tell him. In the face of Fox Mulder’s lifelong battle against emotional terrorism, she feels positively virginal. She stares at his nose pressed into his inner elbow. 

“It would be pleasant,” she says to it. She doesn’t feel the need for elaboration, but his lips twitch. 

“You always this good at small talk? How about this weather we’re having.” His joke is teasingly sweet. It’s different from before, somehow. 

“It’d be pleasant because I don’t think I could let it be anything else.” 

They’re quiet for a bit. Neither of them know what the weather’s like outside. It’s chilly in their room, in the way all motel rooms are chilly. 

“If anyone had the ability to control the weather, Scully,” he says to the television, “and I mean really, really control it, so that humanity would be better off for having it… it’d be you.”

In the bed in the dark in the light of the T.V. in the hick town where everyone sleeps at eight p.m. where it hasn’t rained in forever where no one has luck in love, Mulder moves a little closer to her. So that their shoulders touch, so that their backs are ramrod straight, so that Scully’s assertion at not being nervous about this becomes a bold-faced lie. 

Twice Reaction To Their Gf Being Shorter


Mina: She would find you the cutest thing alive and would constantly tell you that. She would find really cute the way you have to get on you tip toe to get things and how sometimes you have to ask her for help.

Originally posted by kyuteu-k


Momo: She would live for you asking her to get you things you can’t reach. Sometimes she would just watch you trying to get it without her help just so then she can come out of nowhere and help you with it.

“Fear not jagi, I’m here to save the day.”

Originally posted by baektalk


Dahyun: She would find your shortness so cute. She would want you to wear cute clothes and she would give you everything and do everything for you. She would try her best to be helpful.

Originally posted by dahyunniie


Jungyeon: She would find you so cute but she would mock you so much. She would watch while you fail to reach things and hold herself from laughing at you.

Originally posted by jeongyeon


Tzuyu: She would make a lot of fun of your height, and would find it so cute. She would make jokes like “how’s the weather down there” just to annoy you. Would purposely put some things on really high places just so you’d ask her for help and would die every time you did it.

Originally posted by yeowangs


Chaeyoung: She would find you super adorable. She would always come up with a bunch of cute names for you. She would make fun of you sometimes but in a cute way. Like always having her arm wrapped around you neck so she won’t “lose your little body in the middle of the crowd”

Originally posted by overratedblogname


Sana: Your shortness would be her excuse to be always hugging you. She would protect you like you were the most fragile and precious thing and would be mad at everyone that made fun of your height.

Originally posted by dayoung


Jihyo: She would die of your cuteness. She would love how short you were and it would make her wanting to protect you. Sometimes she would wrap you in a big blanket and hug you.

Originally posted by abitofeverythingstrange


Nayeon: She would make fun of you sometimes, but would protect you and would scold everyone that made fun of you. She would be more than happy to help you reach things, always telling you how cute you were.

Originally posted by jbaetwice

If You Don't Know Part 2 - Calum Hood Smut

Pairing: Calum and Y/N

Word Count: 5.0k+

Rating: Smut

Requested: Yeppers

Part One Here

Keep reading

Something, which is not spoken aloud

Ok, It’s been a long time, but I’m finally posting my second Sprousehart fanfiction. Huge thanks to all Sprousehart fandom and especially @lilmooncat for helping me with editing.

I apologize in advance, because English isn’t my first language, so there is a huge possibility for mistakes. Thank you so much for reading this. Let me know what you think. Love you.


In the world of the most meaningless things there are the ones that create someone’s love. That love, which is not spoken aloud, which doesn’t inspire to write poems or novels. This feeling is so special, that you can feel nothing, but it. Until the last you’re trying to believe that you’re not in love, but there comes a moment when all the colors of the previously unknown feelings suddenly become clear and you begin to look at it unwittingly, trying to see all of its beauty, trying to touch, but never knowing that you already consist of these colors.

If you asked Cole if he believes in love, he would say:“I didn’t understand the question.” For him it was only the feeling that you don’t recognize. Not that he has ever answered this question, but this option seemed to be the most appropriate for him.

Looking at the green pearl liquid in his glass, he was thinking that it was high time to leave. This party was becoming too far-fetched and meaningless.

The room was full of dancing people. Their silhouettes were shrouded in smoke and light of neon lights that were moving like in black-and-white film. A variety of glass colored bottles was standing on the table. The soft neon light was penetrating through the glass. Cole noticed an ashtray filled with smoldering cigarettes and snorted contemptuously. They were disgusting and cheap. Pearl green liquid in his glass vaguely resembled absinthe, but Cole knew that it wasn’t true. Whatever it was, it was as cheap and nasty as all of the things here.

He was looking at the silhouettes of people who were dancing to the loud and monotonous music, but did not see their faces. Maybe it was too dark or maybe he didn’t want to see them. He was holding the glass in his hand and it felt like a habit.

Cole knew that coming here was a mistake. The foolish mistake which is usually made by someone, who is already hopeless. Everything here was disgusting for him: cheap cigarettes and countless cocktails, neon lights and empty unfamiliar faces. It was about 11 pm and it made him inexplicably tired. The evening didn’t bring the desired relief and there was a long painful night ahead.

Everything supposed to be completely different this evening. Cole knew it was his fault. He was fond of the feeling, which is not spoken aloud, and today this senseless party and the pearlescent liquid in the glass were his merciless lessons.

He has never told Lili that he feels for her that exact inexplicable something. He knew that it was impossible to say, but today she was with someone else and all these rules weren’t important anymore.

It was becoming stifling because of intrusive thoughts. The smoke was fooling his mind more and more. Cole put the glass on the table untouched. Along with smoldering cigarettes and colored bottles it will be the proof of how drunk was everyone here. Everyone, but him. Today, an alcohol wasn’t his silent friend, today everything felt wrong.

He went out at night live city street and exhaled. He exhaled in confusion, feeling an irresistible desire to act. The desire to make the night less exhausting and painful. Cole knew that nothing will help, because apart from Lili there was no such a healing medication. Maybe he should call her, but she was with someone else and he knew it. Phone conversations never solve anything. No, he needed to see her. To say something, or just sit in silence or make a play. Plays are nasty, but it’s the only way to show her the feeling, which is not spoken aloud.

Cole caught a taxi and told her address. It was like an old habit. The habit which is impossible to get rid of.

He was confident in what he wanted to do until he stopped in front of her door. Yes, today he was pretending that he was drunk. Today the arrogant smirk was his main weapon.

He rang the doorbell, simultaneously putting on a smirk, listening to the Lili’s slow steps. The door opened, accompanied by a symphony of surprise.

“Cole?” asked Lili, raising an eyebrow. Her glance was hidden from his eyes in the dark, but Cole noticed her trembling.

“Don’t pretend that you weren’t expecting me. It’s a usual time for a guest like me,” he drawled smugly, leaning against the doorway.

“Actually, no,” she said quietly, but deceptively. He could almost physically feel how she was getting angry. It was their little game when he did all those absolutely arrogant and annoying things, and she was angry. But today this game wasn’t enough; they definitely needed a whole play.

“What a blatant lie!” he almost sang it, unceremoniously walking into.

“I’m not alone, so you are slightly not in time,” said Lili irritably after him and he flinched, but just for a moment.

“Oh, really?” Cole smiled theatrically, turning around. “So, I will finally meet your boyfriend or whatever he is for you. Cami has been talking about him a lot, so why would I not assess his countless advantages? “he asked sarcastically with a challenge, looking at nervousness on her face.

"Lili, who’s there?” a voice was heard from the living room, shattering the silent tension in the air. After a moment in the hallway a young man appeared whose face Cole didn’t even try to remember. Lili was about to answer, but Cole was faster, stretching out a hand for shaking.

“I’m Cole,” he smiled, shaking the man’s hand, and furtively glancing at Lili. In a moment she would understand that this was a play, but right now he was continuing with his too well-rehearsed role. “Just came here to visit you. I apologize for the late hour, but this is Lili’s favorite time to make visits. I’m not the one to break traditions,” he smirked, noticing Lili’s annoyance and confusion of a faceless young man.

“I’m…” the man began.

“Yes, I know who you are. I think we’d better drink for acquaintance,” interrupted Cole, continuing his way through the Lili’s house and finally stopping in the living room. Two glasses of red wine were standing on the small table next to the couch. Cole grinned. He knew that she liked only white. He collapsed on the couch without permission, getting Lili’s frown and surprised glance from her “boyfriend” as a reward.

“Cole, you need to go” she sighed, looking in his giggling eyes.

“But I just got here,” replied Cole, looking like a hurt child. “Let me raise a glass for you and your big unbelievable love” he smiled at these words, lifting a glass and refusing to take his eyes from Lili even for a moment. His play took place in the glory, like a premiere of a long-awaited musical.

“Let’s stop kidding around.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” a smirk painted his face with mocking bright colors. “I just wanted to say a few words. For example, I can give your boyfriend some advices. You don’t mind, right?” asked Cole, but he needed no response.

“Well…Yes… ” the faceless man replied, looking at Lili questioningly.

“That’s great!” exclaimed Sprouse, getting up from the couch, showing all his action in all its glory. It is a pity that nobody else saw him. People would applaud. But no, this performance was just for the two of them. “First of all, don’t wear this sweater. It’s horrible, seriously. Lili, you should have told the truth to your boyfriend.”

“Enough,” she couldn’t resist. “Go home. Enough for today.”

“Why are you so rude?” brazenly grinned Cole. “I’m just talking with your boyfriend. By the way, do you know that Lili loves chamomiles?” he was talking to her boyfriend, looking at her. It’s simple: it seemed like in this room there were just two of them. “Do you know that she likes cloudy weather and black coffee with two tea spoons of sugar? She likes to listen to the music from 60s in the evenings. She puts the alarm clock only 7:01 am, but never at 7:00.  She never tells why, but I’m sure that it’s because she doesn’t like round numbers. She is afraid of the dark, but would never admit. These are things you probably already know about her, but there is one important thing that you don’t know. You don’t know that she’s not in love with you,” he held his breath, trying to catch all her movements.

It seemed that in this moment of silence she finally realized that this play was only for her. His arrogant grin was just for her and a lively twinkle in his eyes was just for her. She was wrong. It wasn’t because of his vanity.

“Lili, I’d better go,” they heard the voice of a third person, who existed here like the scenery.

“No, wait,” she asked hesitantly. “Cole, what do you want? What is it all for? ”

“I wanted your boyfriend to know the truth,” replied Cole calmly, tasting the wine and leaving the glass on the table, just like the pearly liquid at the party.  "It is always important to know the truth,“ he approached to her almost impossibly close, forgetting about the casual viewer. He could feel her hot and inconsistent breath on the skin of his neck.

"Then tell me the truth,” she said firmly. During all this time in the living room, they haven’t looked away from each other even for a second. The door slammed, but they didn’t notice. They remained in this house alone.

“I’d tell you a million things about what I feel for you, but, unfortunately, this is not the thing, which is spoken aloud,” he whispered in her ear, feeling how she shivered because of his rapid breathing.

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here because you already know the truth,” he answered, touching her cheek with his cold trembling fingers. “Oh, and also because your boyfriend had a really strange sweater. You’d better check if he is not a serial killer and call the police,” he grinned, and Lili laughed at his inappropriate joke. Hell, this was all of him, and there was nothing she could do with herself.

“Promise me that you’ll never wear a sweater like that,” said Lili with a smile, knowing that he will do exactly the opposite, wanting to see how she gets angry. Why not? Maybe their love consisted of these pointless things. The things, which only two of them could understand.

“It’s too late. My wardrobe is already filled with them to the top,” he grinned as always, touching her lips.

It’s not necessary to talk about the feeling that you don’t recognize. Yes, it doesn’t inspire to write poems or novels, it’s not spoken aloud, but there is something about it that doesn’t require words. Something utterly wrong, what makes you do the silliest things, but not to speak.

In the end, the night ceases to be painful and a welcome relief comes. The music turns off, the smoke dissipates, two glasses with red wine remain on the table untouched and the light in the window is no longer lit. There is only one pointless question left: what was that green pearl liquid in the glass?


P. S. Here  you can find my first Sprousehart fanfiction

innerjoker  asked:

So how about HCs about Tsuyu during winter?

Asui Tsuyu:

  • From what we know about Tsuyu’s frog quirk, she is affected by cold weather just like reptiles and amphibians are. Curious enough, snowy days are her favourite right after the rainy ones.
  • Since her younger siblings always loved going out to play in the snow during the winter, with her coming along, Asui started loving the cheer that came with thick layers of snow.
  • She always dresses with a lot of layers to cancel out the cold. She has cute matching gloves and scarf, with a sweet frog shaped winter cap. She always wears the purest of smiles when she goes out to watch the snow fall.
  • Tsuyu still gets sleepy faster than usually when she’s playing in the snow, but she enjoys herself nonetheless. Be it her younger siblings or her friends, she won’t go easy on them, throwing snowball after snowball.
  • Once back inside, she makes herself and others hot chocolate and sits comfortably next to the closest radiator.
ew.com
EW.com | 'The Making of Outlander': Series EP Talks 5 Exclusive Photos From Behind-the-Scenes Book

Outlander, the Starz adaptation of Diana Gabaldon’s bestselling novels, is about to come alive in the pages of its own adaptation of sorts. In The Making of Outlander, a deep dive out Oct. 18 into the series’ first two seasons, author Tara Bennett — with an assist from Gabaldon herself, who writes the introduction — takes readers through the writing and filming of every episode, offers never-before-seen images, and delivers exclusive interviews with the cast and crew.

Below, EW has five exclusive behind-the-scenes shots from the book, as well as insight from executive producer Maril Davis, who says the book is “a love letter to the cast and crew” that gives fans an intimate look into the production of the epic, sweeping love story between Jamie (Sam Heughan) and Claire (Caitriona Balfe). “Most fans do want to know how the sausage is made, they’re interested in the filmmaking process,” Davis says. “People don’t really understand the steps we take.” She walks EW through some of the steps for the five shots below.

This sunny shot comes from the pilot, which saw Claire go through the stones and journey into the past. Though the giant stones of Craigh na Dun were constructed out of foam with hard coating to help preserve the ground, the rest of the scene didn’t require special effects — which Davis says everyone took as a positive sign. “I have such a fabulous memory of this specific scene,” Davis says. “It was so ethereal up there. We didn’t use the wind machine, because every time she went to go do [the scene], the wind picked up. It was so weird for everyone there that day.”

“It was just like a meant-to-be moment,” she adds. “We had really beautiful weather, which is unusual for Scotland, so I think we were all tricked into thinking that [the rest of filming would be easy]… There’s just a look of pure joy on Caitriona’s face there. It was a magical setup for what would become a really magical shoot.” Then again, noteverything was picture perfect. “We had a really difficult time finding the blue flowers that Diana had described in the books,” she recalls.

Season 2 brought the Frasers to France. For a visit to Versailles, Claire donned a memorable, cleavage-baring red dress — and shared an intimate moment with Jamie before heading out. The shot shows just a bit of the crew surrounding them in the bottom left corner, which Davis says is a common sight for the Balfe and Heughan, especially in their closest scenes. “It’s like Jamie, Claire, and 20 other people,” she laughs. “From the start, [Caitriona and Sam] had this amazing relationship. They get along so well. If they didn’t, we’d be in trouble.”

Aside from getting the costumes right for the world-traveling second season, Davis remembers the production focusing on two key sets: Master Raymond’s (Dominique Pinon) apothecary and the king’s Star Chamber, which was only featured in one, grisly sequence. “It’s one thing to see the pictures, but when you walk on set it’s like being there,” she says. “It helps the actors. They walk on and part of their job is done. They have to act, but they’re not distracted.”

Blue ponchos are ubiquitous on the Outlander set. “The Scottish weather and landscape is rough. It rains all the time, we have to work in the mud and the dirt,” she says. “The mountain of umbrellas and ponchos we have is just kind of a constant… It’s become second nature [to see extras like this].”

Davis remembers a first-season scene that had been so muddy, “people were slipping down the hill.” “It’s always a logistical nightmare,” she says of outdoor shoots far from civilization. “It’s difficult to bring our big production footprint and lay things out. I’m sure that’s why everyone has great memories of the bathroom situation at all these locations.”

This shot comes during the episode in which Claire flashes back to her time in World War II, experiencing PTSD on top of her grief over losing Faith and abandoning her life in Paris. “When we were breaking this episode, [writer] Matthew B. Roberts realized that Claire didn’t have a lot to do during those chapters,” Davis explains. “Matt came up with the idea of the PTSD moment, because we felt like she never talks about her experience in war that much, and it seemed likely that at that point, she would be dealing with the effect of being in war.” Focusing on Claire’s difficult headspace, though, did ironically give them some levity. “It gave us a fun little moment where we could show the origin for the line, ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,’ which she says a lot,” Davis says. “That was a fun Easter egg moment for fans.”

Davis also shared another piece of humorous trivia from the episode: The scene in which Dougal MacKenzie (Graham McTavish) leads a mock Highland charge — a surprise tactic used on the battlefield — in order to pull the rug out from under Jamie, was originally imagined not as shirtless, but as pants-less. Because of a costume issue, they had to ditch the idea, and even toyed with having the men go completely clothing-free. “I think we were like, ‘should we do it naked?’” she recalls. “All the guys were up to it, but it was true to the time that the Highland charge was just guys coming in with long shirts on because the plaid wrappings would sometimes get in the way of fighting.”

Shooting battles is never easy, and for the Battle of Prestonpans, production had to also deal with — yes, again — uncooperative Scottish weather. “The true battle happened in quite a bit of fog, and we wanted to recapture that, but we discovered very quickly that with the wind, we couldn’t capture the fog with a smoke machine,” Davis says. Instead, the team constructed a marquee tent, filled it with smoke, and then filmed the entire battle inside. “It was a pretty ingenious idea that saved us in the end, but I mean, it got pretty disgusting with the blood and horses and mud and everything.”

Luckily, no one got injured in the process — Davis says only Romann Berrux, who played Fergus, got harmlessly knocked over accidentally in a shot they wound up keeping — and doing the episode only prepped the crew for their next big challenge:  the Battle of Culloden, in season 3. “The Battle of Culloden was by far the biggest set piece we’ve ever done, but we’re so thrilled with how it’s turning out,” Davis says. “This season is very challenging. We’re showing parallel storylines with Jamie and Claire, and you’re looking at multiple time jumps within those parallel lines.”

The Making of Outlander hits shelves October 18.

It’s a bet then? Pt.2

Genre: Angst/Romance

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

A/N: I don’t really know how many parts this is gonna have, but thanks to the anon who had requested for it. Anyways, enjoy the read!

Warning: Cursing

Part 1

Keep reading

Blorkes reasonament.

Since Blorkes reasonament is limited (for some of them, not all), I’m going to make this post an educative one (pointless, I know, but I like to call out the bullshit).

1. Is Becho “toxic”? If so, why?
- No. Becho is a ship created from the attraction of two characters that, at some point helped and trusted each other. Echo is a warrior that would do all that’s in her power to protect her clan, Bellamy is just the same. Now, that the two of them chose their clans above their feelings doesn’t mean is toxic.

Now the blorkes be like “ohHhh bUt ecHo trIed tO kiLl oCtAviAaaA”.

And I’m like: TRUE! Just like Clarke blew up Mount Weather even tho she knew Octavia was there AND, Clarke left to be safe (I know Blorkes, that’s ok because Clarke was protecting her people, but so was Echo so shhh, don’t bite). Or when Clarke took the bunker and left Octavia to die melting? Oh, that’s ok, is Clarke!! Don’t blame her!! That doesn’t affect her relationship with Bell because Bell just cares about Octavia when others hurt her!! He forgives Clarke!! If Clarke does it then Octavia ain’t important!! (I’m amazed by Blorkes bs).

Now “bUt eChoO beTrYaed BeEll”.

You mean like, when Clarke left him for the woman who almost killed his sister, attacked Skaikru and betrayed them at Mount Weather? But then expected him to help her because, well, idk why.

“buT tHey AlmOosT kiLl eAcHoTher”.

Hmm.. Because, since forever of course, drugging someone and kidnapping them, then pointing a gun to their heads, is an act of love, huh? Because all of those victims of rape that were drugged, of people who got kidnapped, im fucking sure they felt fucking loved, didn’t them? But a fight between someone trying to protect the person he loves the most on this world means that IS TOXIC, but drugging, kidnapping and pointing a gun IS TRUE LOVE.

2. Becho sounds like my shit.

HONEY, WHAT SOUNDS LIKE SHIT IS YOUR ARGUMENT.

PS; dedicated to all limited blorkes, with all hate intended.

This Isn’t About Me

Request: Hi! I love love love your blog. I was wondering, it’s my birthday tomorrow, could you please do a one shot with Damon and b-day sex? Thank you ❤️ – Anon

Pairings: Damon x Reader

Warnings: swearing, smut

Word Count: 2250

Happy Birthday, sweetie!

(gifs not mine, credits to owners)

Damon’s POV

It had been a rough day, especially for (y/n). My princess hasn’t been eating nor sleeping due to finals and I would, if I could, compel her to rest. Finally, after convincing her, I got her to bed. It was around 8 pm, pretty early for anyone to sleep but there she was, laying in her side of the bed, sound asleep, snuggling into another pillow. I was sitting against the headboard, running my hands through her hair. I suddenly remembered something. Holy shit, it’s her birthday tomorrow!

Keep reading

2

You want to know what this is? This is the one moment we’ve all been waiting for. This is the moment where Clarke reaches that turning point with Lexa. Not only is this yet another completely vulnerable Lexa scene, but Clarke opens herself up too. She gives Lexa the tiniest glimpse before shutting herself away and locking it up tight again.

Clarke and Lexa are talking about Ontari and the ambassadors, but the subtext is so blatant. Clarke tells Lexa that the only reason she was on her side was because she was doing what was right for her people. (How often as she used that overly rehearsed line by now? Honestly, Clarke.) Clarke then asks Lexa how she plans to move on after her ambassadors betrayed her, but we know the words are much more personal than they seem, since we know Lexa betrayed Clarke. Clarke’s prodding. She’s searching for answers. Lexa says they were doing what they thought was best for their people. Just like Lexa was at Mount Weather, just like Clarke was when she joined the Coalition. Then we see it click in Clarke’s mind, she finally gets it. Lexa betrayed her at Mount Weather for her people, and Clarke was just an unfortunate casualty. Clarke then cuts the conversation, because what is she supposed to say? She shuts herself off completely, she doesn’t let the conversation get any deeper. Why? Probably because she doesn’t trust herself and her feelings. She probably doesn’t want to trust Lexa, doesn’t want to have those feelings again, yet look at the way she looks at her. Clarke, please. Chill. (Another reason could be that she’s gotten all that she needs from the conversation. She’s gotten what she was searching for with Lexa, and she can finally start moving on.)

This scene is 3x04′s bow scene. It’s all Lexa and no Commander, with absolutely no bullshit. Lexa thanks her, twice, because Clarke is the reason she’s still alive. Technically Clarke didn’t have to, of course, but she’s put her faith in Lexa that she’ll do right by her people. This one moment seals everything. Once again, Lexa has caught Clarke off guard with her sincerity. Not to mention, Lexa has never looked at Clarke with more adoration, and you can most certainly see it in Clarke’s eyes too. Beautifully portrayed, as always. This entire idea is also emphasized by the fact that it seems to be the last quiet moment before shit hits the fan in 3x05, much like the kiss was the last quiet moment before the war in 2x14. (requested by anonymous)

12 Days of Sanvers Christmas, Day 6

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5

Superfriends snowball fight, ft. heat vision, snow forts, sledding, and snow kisses.


“Winn.”

He jumped nearly a mile high, and Alex bit down a smirk. “Alright there?”

“Whatever it is, it wasn’t me, I swear. Unless it’s a good thing, then sure, maybe I had something to do with it.”

This time, Alex did allow herself to smirk.

“Maggie’s sad,” she told him without preamble as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned her hips against his desk.

Winn tilted his head to look up at her. “She certainly seems happy enough whenever I see you two together,” he prompted, and was rewarded by that doe-eyed smile Alex wearing more and more often these days.

“Yeah, but I think… I think she misses home, you know? Like, whenever I say it’s cold, she kind of laughs and says this cold is nothing. I mean, it’s nice because she gives me her jacket – ”

“Awwwww.” He earned a smack in the head, but lighter than normal, and he waited for Alex to continue.

“But you know, I can tell she just… the weather, you know, it doesn’t feel like Christmas to her. Here. I think she wishes it were colder. She used to go ice skating with her dad every weekend, you know, and I think… I think she’d like it if it snowed.”

Winn scoffed. “Snow. In National City. Too warm even for typical fake snow. You’d need a full on atmospheric shell and an ice converter to – to – ”

Alex was grinning down at him, now, and he looked around them nervously. “Alex.

“Winn.”

“You want me to steal equipment from the DEO just so your girlfriend can get her snowball fight on?”

Alex squinted at nothing in particular in the distance and leaned down closer to Winn. “I was thinking more like… borrow.”

She fixed him with the most innocent, isn’t-it-sweet-how-much-I-love-my-girlfriend face she could muster, and sure enough, within seconds he started stammering.

“I – it – I could – alright, alright. But you’re helping.”

“Of course I’m helping. Can’t let you have all the credit.”

Keep reading