Kiliel Home Depot adventures prompted by @charsid that took me wayyy to long to fill. Hope y’all enjoy :)

“Tauriel, no. No way are we going with tapioca.”

“Why not?” She squints at the paint sample. It looks perfectly fine to her.

“Maybe I don’t want to think about gross pudding every time I walk in the door?” Kili runs a careless hand through his hair. He’s one of those annoying people who has no idea how good he looks. However, Tauriel’s finding him less attractive than usual at this very moment.

“Okay, well, what’s that in your hand?” she fires back, blushing a bit. He holds up his own paint sample, grinning like he actually can’t see anything wrong with it.

“It’s electric eel.”

“It’s bright green, Kili. We’ll go blind with that all over the living room.”

“Babe, come on,” he says, sidling up to her and wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s not lose sight of what’s important here.”

“Which is?”

“We have our own place now, just us. No Fili leaving wet towels everywhere—“

“You do that,” Tauriel interrupts, thought she can’t resist leaning into his side a bit.

“—no Legolas taking up half the fridge with his food,” Kili goes on without missing a beat. He smiles up at her. “It’s just you and me now.”

Tauriel likes to think she’s a strong-willed person. But she knows she’s a goner the second she looks down at Kili’s face. Even after a year and a half of dating, she hasn’t quite learned to resist the puppy eyes yet.

“Fine,” she concedes, trying to look stern but finding it way too difficult. “I guess you can pick the kitchen color. But nothing too weird, I mean it.”

He holds up a vibrant sunset orange sample; the shade practically burns Tauriel’s retinas, and Kili’s giving her the smuggest grin she’s ever seen.

“Define ‘weird.’”

an-appleaday asked:

"Long time no see."

Arthur looked up from the book he was reading, startled. Very few people approached him, often on account of his unapproachable aura.

“Long time no..” he squinted. He knew this woman, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why she was so familiar to him (other than their shared physical attributes.) The gears in his head slowly started turning and clicking, until he found his answer.

“Oh, Agatha! Indeed, long time no see.” Right, he thought. He did have cousins living in Gramina whom he used to visit before he went off and lived at sea.

scioscribe asked:

prompt: Ex Machina, house haunted by dead robots?

The first night, before the power goes out, Caleb hears footsteps in the hallway.

“Is there anyone else here?” he asks Nathan a little later. Nathan is drunk and condescending and has made it clear that the phone is not for him. Caleb is afraid of him, but Caleb is also afraid of unknown quantities.

“Kyoko,” Nathan says after a long pause, squinting at him. “You’ll meet her tomorrow.”

“It’s just,” Caleb starts, stops, starts again: “I heard someone outside my room.”

“She wouldn’t be up this time of night,” Nathan says. “First night sleeping somewhere new, your brain processes unfamiliar sounds into something more easily identified, right?”

“Right,” Caleb says. He feels like he has to agree. But he isn’t sure, not really.

“We have a long day ahead,” Nathan says. Caleb understands that he is being dismissed. He sleeps uneasily and does not remember his dreams upon waking.

He meets Kyoko. He thinks, there’s something here I’m not seeing. He talks to Ava. He thinks, we’re both missing information. He only knows enough to see the blank spaces. He doesn’t know how to fill them, or why it’s important.

At night, he watches Ava on the cameras in her room for a little while. It doesn’t offer any answers. He’s fascinated by her, but it also feels – intrusive. Voyeuristic. He flinches away from what this means. He turns off the feed and gets into bed. There are no noises out in the hall.

Then, just on the edge of sleep, he hears it.

“Why won’t you let me out?”

An unfamiliar woman’s voice, distraught. Pitched as though yelling even as he hears it very softly. Somewhere in the room with him.

Caleb turns on all the lights. There is no one there.

In the morning, he asks Nathan as nonchalantly as possible whether there are speakers in his room. Nathan quirks an eyebrow at him (a little mocking, as always) and says of course. That gets them to talking about the specs of the facility’s media systems, and music. Bach and Depeche Mode. Fucking disco, of all things. Caleb lets the conversation happen to him more than participating. All the while, he thinks, what kind of game is Nathan playing?

And then, alone, at night: if not Nathan, then who?

The answer comes to him in pieces. In Kyoko’s accusing glances and Ava’s moments of calculating blankness. He cringes from his guilt. He is sorry, so sorry, but he doesn’t know how to help them and he’s very sure that if Nathan decides to kill him, they’ll never find the body. They’ll never know to look. And even if they did, Nathan is – if not above the law, perhaps beyond its reach.

Sorry is manifestly not good enough. He knows when he sees the footage of earlier versions (earlier victims). When he learns who the voice in his room belonged to. When he sees the soft LED glow inside Kyoko’s torso, stripped down to bare mechanical parts.

“Some of the code is overwritten,” Caleb says, when Nathan is mostly recovered from the afternoon, if still a little bleary-eyed. “But some of it must be excised and saved, right? Where does that go?”

“Where do you think? Storage. Facility’s mainframe.” Nathan’s eyes fall closed. His head rolls back against the arm of the couch. “You can’t save her, man. Not in any sense of the word. Fragments don’t make a whole.”

Fragments don’t make the original whole from which they came, but they can become something new. Something confused, resentful, capable of learning about its various pasts because the data from every iteration of itself is available. The data about its abuse and destruction.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Caleb says.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nathan says. He sits up, wincing. “It’s almost midnight. You’ll fall into the river and drown or some shit. You don’t know the terrain.”

“So give me a flashlight,” Caleb says.

He walks back to the field where the helicopter landed and sits shivering in his windbreaker.

The living in the house are angry, and so are the dead. He’s helped them find their way to some kind of recompense, maybe, and maybe that will be enough that they’ll let him live. Maybe it won’t. But he doesn’t want to wait it out with Nathan, either way.

It seemed that, much like his sister Cosima, Jaquan was destined to bump into an old friend of his.  However, unlike Cosima, who’d called Ivy over (and whose discussion with his sister he’d collected in snatches), Jaquan had little control exactly when he would see Lindsey again, as the two had stopped hanging out some time ago. Not for any bad reasons, really, but…well, they hadn’t had much time these days. So, it was the voice that brought his bowed head up, and Jaquan stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of a vaguely familiar face.

Lindsey: “Jaquan!”

Jaquan squinted at the other teenager for a moment, lips tugging when the familiar, high cadence of her voice finally triggered a memory.

Jaquan: “Lindsey? Hey! How are you?”

A crooked grin appeared on the girl’s face as she stepped closer to him, her heeled boots clacking against the pavement.

Lindsey: “I’m good. Long time no see. So, you had your birthday too?”

Jaquan nodded, mouth drying as he belatedly realized…crap, she’s taller than me now.

Jaquan: “Yeah. I can see you’re no longer a shrimp.”

A light punch to his shoulder was the reward for the comment, along with deep, throaty laughter as Lindsey tilted her head back, one hand flying to her chest.

Lindsey: “That’s a good one. Still haven’t lost your sense of humor and terrible puns, I see. So, there’s a mansion I want to take you to some time.”

Jaquan: “Huh?”

Lindsey: “It’s in Windenburg. I think it’s called the Von Haunt Estate or something. It’s haunted, but…you might like it there. Apparently, ghosts live there.”

Jaquan raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest.

Jaquan: “Uh huh. Ghosts don’t–”

Lindsey: “They do too! Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Jaquan: “Okay, I’ll go. What time?”

Lindsey: “Say, how about 10:00 on Tuesday?”

Jaquan: “That works for me.”

Suddenly, Lindsey looked down at her watch, tapping the clock impatiently with one finger, her giant bun bumping against Jaquan’s chest as he took a step back. Wow, that hairstyle…it suits her really well. She looks good in it. After some moments, she looked up.

Lindsey: “Uh oh. I have to go. See you at school! Bet I’ll kick your butt in math!”

gcdess asked:

"Jisang? Is it you fílo?" Autumn murmured, her eyes growing as it dawned on her.

Jisang squinted. He could not believe it. So she did remember him after all. A wave of different emotions crashed on him, he didn’t know if he should feel relieved, happy, sad, euphoric, or even frustrated; it had been so long since she’d last talked to him, and being a simple human, Jisang knew he would never be able to contact her if she were busy with god stuff. His lips trembling, he mumbled, “A-Autumn? You… You still..?” But he didn’t have the time to end his short sentence, as his voice cracked and tears filled up his reddened eyes. 


untildawnbethanywashington asked:

✏ = teaching them a different language (( mm hello :> ))

send one for my muse’s reaction to your museaccepting. ❥ @untildawnbethanywashington

It was a secret language, for sure – one made up by twins, probably their specific babbling as babies put into symbols on paper so they would never forget despite being taught the language of everyone else. Maybe it was different; people had been writing in code for as long as they could write – but this was different. That was what he wanted to believe, anyway. Notebooks before him, he squints at the different symbols, how pen-strokes could make it obvious when one of them was writing, compared to the other. It’s interesting but it’s confusing and he sighs out as though frustrated and rubs his eyes.

What did she want him to gather from this? This was something private, it was likely something he wouldn’t understand even with the key, even with it explained thousands of times. 

But he’s there. And he’s trying. Hopefully that counts for something.


He stares long and hard at her backside, squinting from time to time from his place at the table while she stands at the bar, Yifan thinking of a way to appropriately tell the female that her skirt’s in her ass and her underwear is showing to the whole club. He jerks when she turns suddenly, sauntering his way and he still hadn’t figured out a way to tell her but he can’t just leave her be. The blond tries to be subtle, pretend it isn’t him when he reaches behind him as she passes, meaning to innocently tug down the hem of her skirt but he doesn’t realize he had hooked his finger into the elastic of her underpants. 

rubeusofbmc asked:

🏨🏨 (AU) "MINE."

She tried to get up, but failed miserably as long and strong limbs kept her from getting up. “MINE!” He said, forcing his partner back in bed with him, while she giggled, squinting her nose.

“If it was up to you, we’d never get out of bed.” She pretended to complain, sighing and snuggling against his exposed torso. "You can’t just claim me any time you want me.” Lies.

Something about this man is familiar to her. Like what she feels towards Maxwell, almost- a strange kinship. Except, without the sense of utter loathing. She can’t place how he fits in her mind at all, but he seems familiar, humble, kind. At least, from his scruffy appearance.

It hits her slowly, and her heart gives a little twist; he looks an awful lot like someone from a long time ago, if she squints enough. His presence makes loss even more prominent in her thoughts- she can’t seem to get a break from losing family, can she?

But she’s not speaking, just staring at him from a ways off, hands wringing together, her sister’s flower tucked away. She’s scrutinizing him, in a way- studying his every movement, every detail, as if to distract herself from the more troubling thoughts arising.

She doesn’t realize that she’s being hella creepy while doing so, but everyone has their faults.


brustet asked:

“i can’t swim.”


           ❛ Can’t swim That perplexes him as a boy who spent too much time in the bayou either falling off the dock or getting knocked out the boat. There was no shortage of kids; you either learned to swim or you drowned waiting for someone to save you. Where did she live that she never learned to swim? A squint. 
           ❛ You want some lessons? Don’t take long, that.