the living room stage

Dear Evan Hansen Positivity

I think sometimes we all get a little bit wrapped up in absurd fandom stuff, so I’m here to remind you all of some facts!

  • Dear Evan Hansen is one of the only shows on Broadway that isn’t based on any source material! It’s completely and utterly original. 
  • It was nominated for nine Tony awards!! And won six! That’s incredible!
  • Ben Platt won a Distinguished Performance Award at the 83rd annual Drama League Awards (which you can literally only win once in your entire life!!!) for his portrayal of Evan Hansen.
  • It has been called “a touchstone for discussion about mature storytelling and themes explored in musical theatre”.
  • It’s selling really really well! It was recently recognized as the highest grossing new musical, despite having less seats than a majority of theatres, and is completely selling-out for months in advance.
  • The Dear Evan Hansen original Broadway cast album debuted at No. 1 on iTunes! Multiple times! And it debuted at number 8 on the Billboard 200, which was higher than Hamilton’s debut! Musical theatre cast albums are almost never in the top 10, and that’s amazing! It was the highest chart debut for a musical since 1961!
  • There’s gonna be a national tour of the show, starting in October 2018! And there will probably be another tour after that, because the interest and hype is already so high!
  • The entire ensemble has received endless praise, as well as the set, lighting, and projection design. In fact, the set design has been described as one “that transforms a small stage into a platform for the most intimate living room where a mother and son share a heart-to-heart to the physical abyss of internet cyberspace”.
  • The music has been a massive hit inside and outside the musical theatre world, and has been described as having “heartfelt lyrics with universal appeal joined by the perfect, oftentimes acoustic accompaniment that can change the mood from somber to celebratory to sinister in a single bar of music”. Pasek and Paul became Tony-winners for their amazing work at the mere ages of 31 and 32!
  • It’s been described as “one of the most vital and important portrayals of mental illness of all time, in any form of media.”
  • It’s one of the most critically acclaimed shows on Broadway! 

It’s an amazing show, recognized by fans, the Broadway world, and even the world outside of Broadway! It’s truly stunning, and I’m so proud and happy for the whole cast and crew. 

All Night (Live) - Brad Simpson & Matoma

Never Ever

Summary: 

“What’s your ideal type?” Eric, one of the hosts of After School Club, asked Mark. 

“Y/N,” he admitted. The other GOT7 members exchanged looks, and Eric laughed – but then his smile faltered when he realized Mark was serious. 

“Wait, really? Y/N? You know the stories about her, right? What, are you looking for trouble or something?”

Now it was Mark’s turn to smile. “Definitely.” 

Pairing: Mark x You (Idol!Reader) 

Genre: Humor and Angst 

[Mini Masterlist

HUGE thanks to @the-porcelain-doll-xo for beta reading this for me! And go check out her writing okay she’s such an inspiration, and if you love GOT7, she’s got you covered!!

SPECIAL FEATURE ALERT: This is a reader-interactive fic, so in the box below, if you enter a name (yours or a character’s, for example), and click “submit”, it will swap out “Y/N” for that name. Y/L/N stands for “your last name.” None of the information entered is stored. This feature does not work on dashboard/feed/mobile app unfortunately.

Your name: submit What is this?

Your last name: submit What is this?

Y/N’s POV

“Hey.

The voice was unfamiliar so you ignored it, still mostly passed out anyway from all the alcohol. But apparently, the person wasn’t going to take the hint because a moment later you felt a hand gently touching your shoulder. “Hey, wake up. You can’t sleep here, honey.”

“Wanna bet?” you murmured and turned over.

“Oh, let me handle this,” another voice, this one’s clipped tone all too familiar, snapped, and then someone was slapping your face and saying into your ear, “Get the hell up, kid, before I tell Jason to drag your ass out of here.” Jason, your bodyguard, who had actually forcibly carried you out of places many times before. This wasn’t an empty threat. You groaned and pried your eyes open, and your bleary gaze landed on the bottle of Jack beside you. Despite the awful taste in your mouth and the headache you were starting to feel, you snatched it up and took a swig as you sat up, tossing a slow grin at the two men standing before you with heavy disapproval. One was your manager, Kevin, and the other was…a preacher?

That’s when you noticed the morning light falling in colors through the stained-glass windows, the rows of wooden pews, the crucifix hanging above you…because you were sprawled out on the altar of a church sanctuary.

Wow. Wild night.

“What time is it?” you yawned, about to bring the bottle to your lips again but Kevin seized it from your hands, shooting you a look.

“Seven AM,” the preacher said. “I have to start getting ready for service, so if you could kindly—”

“Sure,” you nodded. “I’ll give a sermon. That’s basically just a rant about how we’re all going to hell, right? I love reminding people that they’re all damned.”

The preacher gaped at you and your grin widened, but then your manager caught you by the arm and yanked you roughly to your feet.

“Excuse us, Preacher,” he apologized and you winked as Kevin towed you down the aisle and out of the sanctuary. Your legs were a little wobbly – but after so many years of drinking, you’d built up a pretty strong tolerance for liquor, and considering how many shots you’d thrown back last night, you were impressed at your stability. Although your headache was starting to intensify now.

“So,” you swallowed against the pain as the two of you made your way out of the church, “what’s the plan for today? I vote for a day off – oh, I know this little breakfast place that has the best pancakes you’ve ever eaten—”

“You really think you deserve a break after your little stunt last week?” Kevin snapped.

Your face hardened at the memory. “Look, that photographer was a sleazy dick. He kept brushing his hands over Lucy when he thought no one was looking! That’s disgusting as it is, but she’s only sixteen! I would punch him again, given the chance.”

“No, you absolutely will not.” You reached the parking lot, and Kevin waited for you to get into the back of the car before sliding in behind you himself, as if making sure you didn’t run away. Jason nodded at you from behind the wheel. “Anyway,” Kevin said briskly as he gestured for Jason to start driving. “There’s been a change in your schedule.”  

“I’m not doing another fan meet, if that’s what it is, unless you want my head to explode. Migraine,” you clarified at Kevin’s confusion. You had never minded those events.

He shook his head and handed you his phone as Jason pulled out of the lot. You glanced down at the screen and found a video waiting for you, an After School Club episode from a few days ago.

“What is this?” you asked and when you looked up, Kevin was grinning at you.

“Just hit play.” So you did.


Mark’s POV – A few hours later

Mark wrinkled his nose, trying not to sneeze as his makeup artist patted the concealer on his face into place, adding the finishing touches. Beside him, Jackson and Bambam were also trying and failing to remain still as their hair was carefully patted into place and their clothes smoothed. It was dark in the wings of the stage, but only a few feet away, bright light bore down on the talk show set. He could hear the chattering of the live audience and the cacophony of the tech crew getting things ready. They were going live in just a couple of minutes.

“You ready?” Jackson asked as he came over, picking a piece of lint off Mark’s shirt.

Mark rolled his shoulders and flashed Jackson his best aegyo smile. “Oh, yeah.” In reality, he was exhausted. They’d been on their feet for the last sixteen hours, running through airports, in the studio, doing last minute promos for their upcoming album. They were lucky they’d even managed to shove some food into themselves in between the chaos. Once this show was done, they could finally get some rest. Mark was already half-asleep behind his camera-ready smile.

People were getting into place now. The host, a loud and amicable man by the stage name of Alex, was settling into his armchair, and Mark took a final sip of water from the bottle he was holding, feeling the reflexive nerves tighten his stomach. At least this was only a short interview, and a laid back one at that. Alex was known to be pretty chill. It wasn’t like a variety show where they would have to do a lot. Just talk, and with Jackson and Bambam here with him, Mark wasn’t too worried about getting tongue-tied.

“Everyone ready?” the head cameraman called, but it was more of an order than a question. “We’re live in five, four, three, two…” He gave a thumbs up, and Alex’s face lit up as the cameras rolled. Here we go, Mark thought.

“Hi guys, welcome back to another episode of Afternoon With Alex,” Alex beamed into the camera. The crowd applauded, and Mark handed his water bottle to a passing PA, clapping Bambam on the shoulder as he came to stand with him and Jackson. “Today we have three members of a certain group you all know and love…you could say they usually ‘got 7’ members…” The three of them groaned but then immediately smiled as they were ushered onto the set, “Here they are – GOT7’s Jackson, Mark, and Bambam!”  

They walked across the stage and waved to the crowd, bowing to Alex before taking a seat on the plush sofa resting opposite his armchair, Jackson sitting between Bambam and Mark. The set was nice – small and spacious, giving it more of a living room feel than a stage.

“Hi boys, how are you?” Alex turned his thousand-watt smile on them. At their chorus of ‘Good’ he continued, “So, you have a new album in the works, correct?”

More promotions, Mark swallowed a sigh and sat back, letting his friends do all the talking.

He’d contented himself to dreaming about his bed, and it was only when Jackson nudged his shoulder that he snapped back to attention.

“Mark hyung is the only one,” Bambam said in response to some question Alex had asked.

“I’m the only…what?” he laughed to cover up his embarrassment for zoning out.

“The only one who might have plans for Valentine’s day,” Bambam finished with a naughty smile. Valentine’s Day? Why—

Oh wow. That was today. That’s what the vase of roses on the coffee table next to them was for. And the pink balloons hovering behind them. And their red outfits. In the midst of everything, Mark had forgotten all about the holiday.

“They’re just kidding,” he shook his head with a laugh. “There’s no one in my life right now.”

Alex raised a brow mischievously. “That’s not what I heard.”

Oh boy.  

“You mentioned in an After School Club episode that your ideal type is Y/N,” Alex prompted.

Ah, there it was. It was Valentine’s Day, after all, and what decent host wasn’t going to bring up a hot topic like celebrity romance? “I did,” he smiled bashfully, picturing her. Y/N. An idol among idols. Her face was on thousands of websites and billboards, on posters and in magazines, and yet the image of her that came to mind and made him warm was completely different.

“That was a good episode,” a voice said from behind, and Mark felt the blood drain from his face as he and the members jerked their heads around to see—

Y/N. In the flesh. Standing half-hidden in the wings of the stage. At the sudden attention on her, she grinned and walked onto the set as the audience went wild. Bambam clapped a hand over his mouth, Jackson was in hysterics, and Mark…

Mark couldn’t seem to get his heart to restart.

The three of them watched as she bowed to Alex before coming over to the sofa, and Jackson half-knocked Bambam onto the floor in his hurry to make room for her. Laughing, Y/N settled in between Jackson and Mark. There wasn’t much space, so her bare thigh was pressed flush against his – and that was another thing. As part of her image, she was almost always dressed in all black, usually jeans and leather, but today she was in a red dress and tight denim jacket. And Mark was not unmoved.

“So, unless you’ve been living under a rock,” Alex addressed the audience, “you’ll know that this lovely young lady is none other than Y/L/N Y/N, the main rapper and vocalist of the popular girl group, 7/11.” Another cheer from the crowd, and Alex turned back to her. “Thank you for joining us today, Y/N.”

“How could I not?” she said with a sly look at Mark. He could feel his face burning as he ducked his head. Well…he was wide awake now. He’d figured there was a chance she would see the ASC video, but he’d never imagined this would be the result.  

“Yeah, tell us about your reaction to finding out that you’re Mark’s type.”

Y/N nodded. “I called Jia, one of our other members, and I was like, ‘Jia-yah, there’s this cute boy who likes me!’”

Cute. Mark could feel Jackson looking at him smugly but all he could focus on was her. She’d called him cute.

“And what did Jia say?” Bambam asked eagerly.

“She told me to stop drunk-dialing her.” They all laughed at this, and Mark couldn’t help but marvel at her. This was the same girl who was as famous for her temper as her charm. Not a month went by where she wasn’t the front page of some tabloid, busted for a new bar brawl or gambling or getting wasted in public. The media called her a catastrophe, but man, did she clean up nice.

Alex was having a great time either way, apparently. “What’s your ideal type then?” he asked her. “We already know Mark’s. Jackson likes healthy girls, and Bambam likes a girl with a pretty smile. What do you look for, Y/N?”

“Oh, a heartbeat, usually.” She shrugged, pleased at their second round of laughter. “I don’t know, really. I don’t think I’m girlfriend material, so I don’t give it a lot of thought. And c’mon, which parents are going to approve of me for their son?”

“Aw, you’re not a bad person,” Jackson said, and she shot him an amused look.

“I didn’t say I was bad. I’m just not good. There’s a difference.” Mark watched her carefully cool expression with intrigue.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Alex said quickly, clearly hoping to regain control of the conversation before they crossed into controversial territory. Teenagers loved Y/N’s rebellious, screw-the-rules attitude, but their parents were less than happy to patronize her and her group’s music. “Anyway, I was hoping we could end our show with a little Valentine’s day game.”

Dammit. Mark plastered a smile on his face to hide his apprehension. A game? Not only was he going to have to do something most likely embarrassing, but he would have to do it in front of Y/N. “You all remember the Kiss The Radio event GOT7 did in 2016, yes? The one where the members put on lipstick and kissed Bambam?”

Mark felt his stomach drop. Where was Alex going with this? They nodded, and he continued. “Right. I was thinking we could do something similar – the GOT7 members will put on some lipstick again but instead of Bambam, they’ll give Y/N a kiss and one of these roses,” he gestures to the vase. “And then she’ll consider of all of you and choose one member to be her valentine.”

Before Mark could die of horror and excitement, Y/N raised her hand. “I have a suggestion,” she said, and Alex nodded in encouragement. “Since the boys have already done this, why don’t we switch it up a bit? I’ll give them a kiss and a flower, and they can decide amongst themselves who will be my valentine. Maybe rock, paper, scissors or something,” she chuckled.

“Oh, I like it!” he clapped, and Mark felt a fluttering in his stomach. To be kissed by Y/N…

The four of them stood up as she began to prepare. She was handed a tube of liptstick from a PA, and as she walked over to the camera to use its reflection as a mirror, Jackson elbowed Mark playfully. “I should take a leaf out of your book and tell girls I like them during interviews,” he smirked. 

When Y/N was done, smacking her lips at the excited audience, she came back and plucked three roses from the vase, one pink, one red, and one white. That’s when I Like You stared playing in the background, and after pausing to sniff the flowers, she turned to the boys with a gleam in her eyes.

It was time to begin.

The GOT7 members lined up at the center of the stage, and Y/N made her way casually to Bambam first.

“Hi Bambam,” she dimpled, holding the roses behind her back. She looked like a shy schoolgirl.  

“Hey,” he tried to say coolly, but he just sounded flustered. With an affectionate smile, she offered him the white rose and he accepted it, grinning nervously. But there was an uncharacteristic softness in Y/N’s eyes as she touched his face, and it seemed to put him at ease as she pulled him down to place a kiss on his forehead. Bambam looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry after she let him go, and she chuckled.  

When Y/N stepped towards Jackson, however, her entire demeanor shifted. Mark watched with fascination – and something else – as she tilted her head back and stared up at him from beneath hooded eyes, a lazy smile on her face as she playfully dangled the pink rose in front of him. Jackson took the rose with a squeal – which was abruptly cut off when Y/N tore her jacket off, threw it on the ground, and yanked Jackson into her arms before pecking him on the cheek. When she released him, he collapsed dramatically on the ground in a heap, earning a laugh from the audience.

 And then it was Mark’s turn. His heart pounded behind his ribcage as she moved into his bubble of space. Somehow, up close, she was even lovelier, and Mark fought the urge to brush her hair back and hold her close until whatever rage was driving her reckless behavior faded. Instead, he just beamed down at her as she shyly held out the red rose. His eyes never left hers as he took it, and then her hands, surprisingly cool for the hot weather, were on his face. Gentle, she was so gentle, as if she was afraid she would break him. Y/N stretched up on her tiptoes, and for the briefest second that also felt like an eternity, her lips hovered over his.

And then she moved higher to kiss his nose.

The audience might have been cheering, but Mark couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears as she drew away. Unlike him, Y/N didn’t look flustered or excited or affected at all. She just looked…exhausted. But the smile never left her face.

Before Jackson, Bambam, or Alex could say anything, Mark hesitantly reached for her hand, and she gave it with surprise.

“Y/N…” he tried not to sound like a nervous twelve-year-old, “will you be my valentine?”

She looked at him, really looked at him, and then with the most heartbreaking smile, she said, “Yes.” But it wasn’t her smile or her answer that broke his heart – it was her eyes.

Because her eyes were saying no.


A/N: So this was supposed to be a completely different oneshot, but my brain kept screaming, Make it longer, you heathen!! BUT I’m not sure if this was a good idea, so if you guys don’t like it or it doesn’t get any notes, I’ll delete it and just write the oneshot :)

UPDATE: Part 2 posted [here]! 

Tagging my frens who probably don’t want to be tagged but idc because this is part of being my friend: @hoegiwa, @nunchiwrites, @kpopfanfictrash, @tousdae, and @lizardsoo - thanks for constantly inspiring and motivating meeee

RFA: MC That’s A Tease

Hello, hello! Can you do MC that’s a tease? They like seducing the RFA members and then acting like nothing happened. Thank you so much! @animefreaksince2001

Admin Phae @p0tat0sacks

Yoosung:
- Okay but
- He has a thing for kisses
- Hear me out okay
- He just thinks it’s cute and intimate and they’re perfect in a relationship
- Any kind, too
- Honestly, this boy will blush whenever you do it!!
- It’s adorable and he enjoys it!!
- Fun for both parties
- But the thing is he can’t actually initiate them himself
- He always finds it important to ask in case you don’t want to
- But when he wants to ask he chickens out
- Not always
- But a lot
- So when you come in and you ask easily
- Praise the lord
- And regardless of how frequently you ask, he has yet to say no to one
- So when you ask him for a kiss one day he happily obliges
- He isn’t ready for you to start making out with him?!?!
- Given he doesn’t have much experience so it’s a little sloppy
- But you taking the lead helps
- After he stops worrying about getting it wrong, his mind gets gradually more fuzzy as you continue
- When suddenly you stop and leave to the kitchen
- What??
- He’s confused™
- But then you come back with some warmed up food (idk what you people can and can’t consume)
- ‘Umm MC what’
I was waiting for my food to heat up
- He can’t look you in the eye without blushing for at least the next week
- Try something like that before the two of you go out in public together it’s pretty amusing

Keep reading

FOUR  STAGES  &  FOUR  CASES

________________________________________________________________

SOME STRANGE CONNECTIONS BETWEEN TFP, TLD, TST, TAB & THE GREAT GAME

.

It happened quite accidentially that I discovered the following similarities. A little scene almost at the end of ‘The Final Problem’ started the ball rolling. Sherlock pushes open his prison room and suddenly stands in front of Musgrave Hall - the old home of the Holmes family.

Keep reading

shapes (m)

18+ 

Jimin/Reader


Originally posted by pjmjjk

He moved like art.

On stage and in the lamplight of your living room.

“I’ve always wanted you, _____,” Jimin murmured, the sweltering heat of his lips finding yours as he leaned in, closing the gap.

Your eyes slammed shut and your thoughts melted away, turning to liquid the second he slid his tongue in your mouth. He tasted sweet, like a perfectly ripe slice of fruit in the summertime, and the deeper he kissed you, the harder you craved the taste of him. 

Every touch, every breath, and every inch.

One moment he was kissing you, lowering you onto the couch and suspending himself above your body, and the next moment his soft, steady hands were smoothing down your waist, unzipping and unbuttoning and tugging at every layer of clothing which stood in the way. Sooner than you could have imagined, there was nothing left between you but rapid breaths and body heat.

All at once you were his.

And all at once you were making art together.

You paint?

A/N: Hi! This is my first imagine. It’s a Danisnotonfire imagine where the reader is actually really good at painting and neither Dan or Phil knew, till one day Dan finds you painting and thinks it’s amazing. It’s really long I’m sorry!

Pairing- Dan and reader

Female pronouns

Warnings- None (well, I suck at proofreading :))

Enjoy…

The boys had known you about as long as they knew eachother, and you were a good balance to their spontaneous-ness. So when Dan and Phil move to London they take you with them without hesitation. You were long use to Dan yelling in triumph when he beats Phil at Mario Cart or whatever new video game. And you’d learned to buy extra cereal to hide in your room for when Phil is on the prowl. You were comfortable with their antics and appreciated the talents that contributed to the atmosphere in your life. 

Dan’s talent being piano playing with the melodies drifting throughout the entire house, and Phil sometimes singing at the top of his lungs in the shower. You had been gifted with your own abilities as well, but your favorite was painting. The way the paint brushed the canvases, the way various colors blended together so vibrantly and how anything could come from nothing were lessons that got you through important moments in your life and taught you anything was possible.

Sadly, as you finished college with the major your parents told you you would be the best off with and got your steady job, your passion for painting faded like an old work. You still did art, but it was drawing and sketches on printer paper and nothing like the wonders you could create with a brush and some paint. You badly missed painting but your supplies were somewhere in your parents houses, and it was such a long drive for something that may have been thrown away years ago.

It was thanks to your mother you were reunited with your precious talent. She’d come across your painting set up from high school and decided to send you a little care package of your table easel, oil paints, your best brushes and everything you would need to kick start the inspiration again. Painting was your true passion, and she knew nothing made you happier.

The package came while Dan and Phil were at a Youtube convention. So they weren’t there to hear your squeals of excitement that rang through the apartment when you were reunited with your supplies. You threw on you old white button up shirt and pulled on your paint splattered blue jeans that were both in the bottom of your dresser and painted up three painting before the day was over. It felt so good to have the brush back in your hands.

Dan’s PoV

(Y/N) had been in a permanent state of euphoria ever since Phil and I had gotten back from the convention. There was an extra bounce in her step and she would always smile at random times. She seemed the same other than that, except for the occasional moment when she comes to breakfast in the morning looking sleepy because she apparently couldn’t sleep. I occasionally indulged myself in trying to figure out what made her so happy. But no matter how often I caught her with a sudden smile at something in her head or found myself staring at a point in the distance for so long Phil or (Y/N) thought I was having an existential crisis, I couldn’t figure out the extra look of excitement she got in her eyes when something of beauty crossed her eyes. Or why she would sometimes stay in her rooms for hours at a time in silence. As always, (Y/N) was the enigma that made life interesting.

The first big clue must’ve come a year before we’d even moved into the London apartment, when the three of us had volunteered for a park beautification project. (Y/N)’s eyes had lit up when she’d gotten the email that she’d been asked to help paint the new mural that the city was putting on the cinder block tunnel at the edge of the park. I thought it was just because she’d gotten out of redoing the flower garden unlike Phil and I. And I’d shrugged it off when she had shown up in a paint splattered white button shirt and blue jeans of matching style, I guess I figured she’d painted a house or something before. And I was so flustered when at lunch her supervisor came up to me at the barbeque and told me: “Your girlfriend was such a help with the mural, she’s very talented.” I was too busy trying to quickly explain she wasn’t my girlfriend to comprehend the part of her being more than good at smearing paint on stone and having a real gift at bringing out potential in more than just people.

The second one came a week after the convention, when (Y/N) had been 20 minutes late to grab a slice of her favorite pizza and when she finally came out, her hands were far from the normal (Y/S) color. They were instead splattered with various colors of the rainbow. “Oh my god, (Y/N)! What did you do to your hands?” Phil asked.

“Huh?” She asked confused. She looked down at her hands and her cheeks turn a rosy color. “Oh shoot!” She quickly rush to the kitchen to scrub her hands, coming back five minutes later with a red glow on her face that somehow made her look even more pretty than ever. Phil and I look at each other but don’t say anything. I continue eating my pizza and study the blue streak in (Y/N)’s (y/h/c) hair, not connecting the dots until another week later.

Your POV

You ran out of canvases yesterday when you finished your latest peice. It was a painting of the sunset over the mountains, one of your favorites so far. You’d been painting up a storm whenever you had free time or couldn’t sleep, and as a result your room was filled with various masterpieces ranging from the night sky to the galaxy. What on earth am I going to do with all of these? You think pulling on a raincoat to brace London’s glaring rain. Normally you could just hang them on your wall, but the space was already occupied by various posters and photos. I could give them to relatives, but I don’t think I have enough family members in my entire family tree. You chuckle and quickly run a brush through your hair as you continue to get ready. When you were ready you walked out of your room and straight into Dan. “Woah,” Dan exclaimed as you two collided. The camcorder tumbled out of his hand and you quickly caught it.

“Centuries old. Don’t want to break that,” You hand the camera back to him while quoting the Sherlock episode the three of you watched last night. Dan smiles in relief of his camera being saved and you take in the chocolate brown of his eyes. How lucky you were to see the most beautiful wonder of the world everyday. To be surrounded by masterpieces and have the privilege to make one smile each day.

“Thanks, (Y/N). Phil would kick my butt if I broke another camera,” Dan joked. 

“No problem,” you reply. “You recording a video today?”

He shrugs. “Just finished actually,” he shifts the camera to his other hand and notes you rain coat and his eyes widen slightly. “You’re going out? It’s like, storming outside.”

“I need to get some things,” You reply vaguely. “I’ll be alright.”

Dan didn’t seem reassured, “do you want me to go with you?”

You smile at his concern, “I’m a big girl Dan. You’re welcome to come if you’d like though.” 

Before Dan can reply though, Phil’s voice rings through the apartment, “Daaaaannnnnnnn.”

Dan rolls his eyes and yells over his shoulder, “what Phil.”

“We need to record an episode of the Sims.” Dan looks back at me and I laugh. 

“Go record. I’ll be fine, Dan, I’ll pick up a pizza for dinner.”

“Get sausage!” Phil shouts excitedly, from the other side of the apartment.

“Phil I can hear you just fine there’s no need to yell!” You yell back with a giggle.

Dan smiles and shakes his head. “Okay, okay. Just be careful alright?”

“You mean more careful than you are with your video equipment?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

Dan laughs, and his smile makes me melt. “Alrighty then. See you later.” He hesitates for a second, but then shakes his head and walks down the hall to record.

(Time skip brought to my by waffles and my lazy A ;D)

I unlock the apartment door and start bringing everything in. Three bags of groceries, three five packs of canvases, and another bag of brushes from the art store. Needless to say, after buying both groceries and paint supplies, it didn’t seem smart to try and bring a pizza on the underground. So instead you just ordered one for delivery and hoped the boys saved you a slice. 

“(Y/N)? You home?” You hear Dan yell from upstairs. 

“Yeah!” You shout and lock the door behind you. Seconds later Dan clomps down the stairs and sees you soaking wet with shopping bags surrounding you.

“Jeez (Y/N), did you walk through a tornado?” Dan asks in regard to your disheveled hair. 

“Haha,” you say sarcastically, wringing out your hair. “Help me with the groceries, Howell.” You pick up your canvases and a grocery bag. Dan gets the other three bags.

“Was the weather bad?” Dan asks as you walk up the stairs behind him.

“No, Dan it was sunny and rainbows filled the sky,” you reply with all the sarcasm you could muster.

“Ugh sound horrible,” Dan retorts.

“So how was recording? Did Dil set anything on fire?”

Dan laughs, “yeah actually. And it was all Phil’s fault.” He finishes with a yell.

“No it wasn’t!” Phil calls back, his voice squeaking. Dan and I laugh.

“Lemme throw my bag and stuff in my room real fast.” You say reaching the hall. “And you better have saved me some pizza Phil.” You yell towards the living room.

“Dan, help,” Phil stage whispers. “We only saved her one slice.” 

“Oh that better be a lie,” You say with a giggle and set your things on your bed. You quickly place the canvases you bought against your wardrobe, next to some of your finished paintings, then go to join the boys in putting groceries away. 

“Okay we saved you two slices, but we’ll watch whatever movie you want,” Dan compromised, handing you the box of cereal to put in the cupboard. 

“It’s cool. You guys up for (Favorite Movie)?” You grab the next item and place it in the fridge. The boys agree.

“I’ll see if it’s on netflix,” Phil says, relishing the excuse to get out of putting away groceries. On the way out, He gives Dan a look like do something you fool. To which Dan rolls his eyes. You and Dan continue to finish putting the shopping away when he comes across your paint bushes.

“Where do these go?” He asked, studying them. 

“Oh I got those, here.” You took the paint brushes from him and placed them on top of your desk. Your eyes catch a particular painting you were quite proud of. A quiet nighttime lake with pond lilies surrounded by a lust green forest with fireflies lighting up the water and sky. You could almost hear the crickets and frogs croaking.

“Woah.” You turn and see Dan standing in the door. His mouth agape and his chocolate eyes darting to your different artworks. He sees you looking  and rubs his neck. “I- Sorry, the door was open and I- Phil got the movie set up and-” His eyes catch the painting you were just admiring. “Did you do these?” He asks, referring to the paintings around him.

“Yeah,” You say sheepishly. You didn’t know why you were so shy about this. Plenty of people had seen your work and said you were good, but Dan seeing them somehow felt, different. You’d never actively asked for someone’s opinions on your work, but you wanted Dan’s approval, you wanted him to think they were good. It embarrassed you a little thinking about it.

“These are- (Y/N) these are incredible,” Dan says. His eyes are trained on your face and you feel a burst of pride. “You should sell some of these.”

You smile and tuck a peice of hair behind your ear, “thanks.” You and Dan stand there for a second, his eyes catching yours and then both of you quickly looking away. “Should we go watch the movie?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s just,” he hesitates, his eyes going from your features to the paintings again, then continues, “those are amazing.” You beam at him once more, then follow him into the living room. Inside your chest your heart felt warm with a sense of achievement and comfort. If the world turned on its head tomorrow and everyone said that your painting were horrid, Dan Howell said your paintings were amazing.

And somehow that felt like the highest praise in the world.

Hi! Thanks for reading.

Strawberry Nasturtium

Also on AO3.
This is the @miraculousfluffmonth  Aug 16 prompt, flowers.


Marinette pulled the chilled strawberry cakes out of the freezer, setting them out on the large counter in the bakery.  She didn’t have a lot of time to get this finished, so everything needed to be done right on the first go.

“Mari?” Adrien’s voice called from the back entrance.

“In the kitchen,” she replied brushing the drambuie sugar water over the four layers she’d sliced from two rounds.  "Just doing the crumb coat before I make the frosting.“  With the edge of a towel, she dabbed the droplets of extra sugar water off the tray so the cakes wouldn’t stick.

Adrien came in, two distinctive cone shaped packages in his arms.  "Has Alya checked in yet?”

Marinette nodded and turned to slide the trays back into the large upright freezer.  "They’ve been seated, but haven’t ordered yet.  And Nino’s upstairs fiddling with the sound system.“  She flashed him a grin.  "It’s sub-standard, but he’ll make it work.”

“Typical,” Adrien replied with a chuckle.  "What can I do to help?“

She reached for the parcels he held.  "Let me see what you got.”  She peered in the tops of the paper and cellophane cones.  One held a gorgeous bouquet of red and pink roses.  She glanced up at him, puzzled.  "What’s this?“

He shrugged sheepishly.  "They deserve roses on their anniversary.  Some that they aren’t going to eat.”

Giggling, she handed that arrangement back to him.  "Take that upstairs.  You’ll find vases - “  The mischievous look in his eyes stopped her cold.

"I know where the vases live, Princess,” he murmured.  "I’ve brought you flowers often enough.“  He winked and dashed out of the kitchen with a laugh before she could swat at him for his sass.

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Distance

A/N: loosely inspired by one of my fav otp’s Jim & Pam. 


Arizona’s shoes were nearly floating over the ground beneath her as she ran to her designated OR. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t able to fly out this weekend, sweetie.” her voice was rushed and she struggled to catch the phone that slipped from her hands after running into the the swinging door to the washroom. After her moment of clumsiness, she handed her phone off with a smile to the nearest nurse and proceeded to wash her hands.

“It’s okay, mommy.” Sofia said.

Scrubbing at her arms fiercely, Arizona turned her head in the direction of the nurse holding the only connection to her whole world when what sounded like candy wrappers rubbing together boomed from the speakers. “Callie?”

“Sorry, Sofia dropped the phone. She’s quite excited.”

Arizona couldn’t help the smile that came upon her face at hearing Callie’s voice, blue eyes returning to her task at hand. “Did you make sure she remembered the move I taught her? The cute spin-“

Callie sighed. “The cute spin with the wink, yes. We went over it a hundred times.”

Turning the water off and drying her hands, the blonde grimaced at Callie’s irritated tone. “I just…I want everything to be perfect.”

At the sound of children laughing and squealing, Arizona’s heart began to race. She felt guilty for missing this moment, for physically missing the moment of her daughter showcasing her talents in an incredibly cute second grade talent show. She had skipped Sofia the previous day, watching her super adorable, tiny human prance around in her costume and couldn’t help but praise her. She was perfect; the most precious human. She had seen thousands of kids in her life, though, she knew that Sofia—even if she was quite biased—was the most beautiful, talented, brilliant child she knows.

“I know you and technology aren’t best friends but, please tell me you figured out how to work your phone’s camera?”

“Arizona,” Callie tsked. “I’m an orthopedic surgeon, the best in my field. I have built legs like god, created cartilage out of thin air-“

The blonde laughed, slipping into the OR with a smile on her face. “Yet, before you left, it took me about an hour to get you to figure out how FaceTime works.” she went on to mumble. “Which I had no idea was possible.”

“Did you say something?” their bantering caused a few of the scrub nurses to laugh lowly, not wanting to be caught listening to Arizona’s conversation.

Pink lips twisted into a grin. “Nope.” knowing that she had to hang up to talk to her patient, Arizona sighed. “I have to go, Callie, but tell Sofia I love her. And thank you.” she added, knowing that a small task such as recording the event meant everything to Arizona.

“Bye, Arizona.”

“Bye, Callie.”


The heels of her boots slapped against the wet concrete. Arizona searched for her phone in her purse, the pre dawn air taking her hair by the ends and guiding it through the wind. After finding the device, she unlocked it and dialed a familiar number.

“Hello?” the voice was coated with sleep, Arizona just realizing that it was Saturday morning. She knew that Callie was most likely hudled under several layers of blankets, hair probably in a massive disarm while tan hands ran through the thick locks to clear her vision.

“Crap, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what time it was…”

“No, no, I was already up.” the lie was smooth on her tongue. “What’s up?”

Arizona hopped into her car and let her body fall back into the plush, leather seat. Her feat were aching and a dull throb was beginning to spread across her head. “How did the recital go? Did you get the video?”

She turned the key into the ignition, the lights above her head turning on briefly to highlight the exhaustion under tired blue eyes. She needed some good news, the little boy she had just spent hours operating on dying on her table. She was used to this, used to the pain that accompanied such a loss, but it still hurt and made her stomach churn.

She could hear Callie shuffling in the background followed by a door shutting, her voice dropping to a whisper. “About that…I sort of didn’t get the video.”

“Are you serious?” she tried to keep calm, her teeth grinding together harshly and the ache in her head increasing. “Callie, I thought you said-“

“It was an accident! I got a phone call right before they started and I guess I thought the video would still record after the phone call. But…”

Arizona’s grip on her phone tightened, stands of blonde hair covering her vision until it was all she could see. “You said you would do this for me.”

“Arizona, I’m sorry, I tried.”

“Maybe you didn’t try enough. Maybe all of this was a mistake.”

A dry laugh. “Oh, yeah? What does that mean?”

“You know what, I don’t want to talk about this.” Just as she was about to pull out of the parking lot, Callie continued.

“No, tell me. Just say it.”

Arizona slammed on the brake, a dry, soundless sob hitting her full force. “I’m missing everything. It feels like I’m missing every moment with her! And for what? So you can be happy with her in New York? I’m missing her life, Callie!”

Silence for the slightest moment. “You said you were okay with this! That you wanted both of us to be happy…” she was at a loss, the sudden anger Arizona directed at her unexpected. She thought that they were past this, that they understood what the other wanted and needed at this time of their lives.

“Well, I’m not. I…I just wanted that goddamn video, and you took that away from me! You took her away from me, Callie!” her words were a blubbered mess, tears rolling down her face, sinking into her cheeks, her neck, falling onto her tongue until her rant died at her lips.

“You’re picking a fight. You’re stressed and you’re upset, and you’re picking a fight.” Callie hated hearing Arizona sound so vulnerable, sound so hopeless. “You miss her, I get that, but-“

“No, you don’t. You see her every day. You’re with her every day. You get to see her smile and hear her voice and listen to her when she talks about her day. I get moments. I get snippets. I’m missing everything.”

Callie sank to the floor, not knowing what to say. She looked around her surroundings unsure of what to say. “Why don’t we talk after you’ve gotten some rest? Okay? We can talk about her schedule again. We can work this out, just, please.  I don’t want to argue anymore, Arizona. I’m sorry about the video. You have to know that I didn’t intentionally do this.”

Arizona needed a moment. She needed something, but she wasn’t sure what. “I’ll talk to you later, Callie.” Arizona hung up without a goodbye and fell back against the passenger seat feeling defeated.


“You did such a great job last night, Sofia.” Callie praised hugging her daughter. Her and Sofia were eating dinner the same day, chicken picatta being eaten quickly.

“I know.” the little girl beamed.

Callie swallowed a particularly hot piece of her meal and winced. “Just like your mother.”

“What?”

With a wave of her hand, Callie dismissed the conversation and mother and daughter continued to eat. “What do you say you give one more performance tonight?”

Sofia dried a dish carefully and slowly before looking up at her mother. “Are we going back to school?”

“No, we’re staying home.” They cleaned and dried the last dish. “You know your mom really wanted to be there for you last night, right?”

Sofia nodded. “Yeah. She had to save a baby, a baby that needed her cause she’s the only one who can fix them.”

“That’s right.” she chewed on her next words. “She really wanted to be here, and she’s really sad that she missed it. What do you say we surprise mommy? You think you can remember your dance?” she tickled her daughter, the giggles that filled the room music to Callie’s ears.

“I remember all the steps.” She said proudly.

Callie sent Sofia to her room to put on her costume, her stomach filling with butterflies. She hoped that this gesture, this attempt at including Arizona would make up for yesterday. Barely 20 minutes later, the living room was set to look like a diy stage; blankets were strewn on top of chairs and carefully balanced broomsticks, Sofia doing twirls and mumbling counts to make sure each move was perfect.

“Are you ready?” Callie asked pulling out her phone. Without a second thought, Callie whipped her cell phone out and called Arizona. After a mere two rings, Arizona’s face came into a view, a tired look on her face.

“Callie? Is everything okay?”

As quick as she could, Callie switched the camera to direct it towards Sofia, her cheeks burning from the smile that was permanently on her face. “Introducing, the spectacular, amazing, super awesome 2nd graderrrrr!” her voice boomed, Sofia jumping into the phone’s view with her hands on her hips. “Sofiaaa Robbinnn Sloan Torressss!” smashing the play button on the cd player next to her, Sofia’s dance music played.

What was once confusion on Arizona’s face was now pure joy; blue eyes bright and shining as she watched her daughter effortlessly spin and jump. There were no mistakes, dimples popping out proudly as Arizona watched her daughter give her her own front row seat to the best show on earth. Once the younger Torres completed her dance, the cutest of bows was made and Sofia ran up to the camera.

“How did I do? Did mommy like it?”

Fighting her tears, Arizona cleared her throat. “It was perfect, baby girl. You are such a good dancer! I’m so proud of you!” Callie turned the camera so that Sofia could see her mom, but she forgot to switch the camera.

“Callie, flip the camera.” Arizona laughed.

She physically flipped the phone back around.

“No, Callie, flip the phone camera so that Sofia can see me.”

“I just flipped it.”

Arizona rolled her eyes. “Not the phone, the camera button on the screen.”

Being ever so clever, the 8 year old took the phone from her Callie’s hands and talked to Arizona herself. “Hi, mommy!”

“Hi, baby!”

Callie went to clean up some of the room while mother and daughter chatted excitedly. The guilt she was feeling for a better part of the day had crumbled and broke away, Sofia jumping around the room and dancing once more for her mother.

The night went on and Callie knew that Sofia needed to start getting ready for bed. “Sofia, say bye to mommy, it’s time for bed.”

Sofia instantly whined. “But mama-“

“Sofia Sloan,” Callie started with a stern look.

“Fine. Bye mommy. I love you.” She waved at the distant blonde and handed the phone back to her mother.

“Brush your teeth, wash your face and I’ll be in soon to tuck you in.”

Sofia bounced out of the room to accomplish her nightly routine, Callie waiting until she was out of sight to look back at the camera.

“So?”

Arizona smiled. “Thank you, Callie, and…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

“I understand. We all have our days.” Settling onto the couch in the living room, Callie continued. “If you still want to talk about who has her when, I’m open to it.”

“No, we had a deal. We already talked about it. I just miss her.”

Arizona chewed on her lip, I miss you, too, close to slipping out as well. A silence fell between them, neither of them knowing what to say. “I’ll let you get back to Sofia.”

Callie wanted to say something, but her voice was suddenly nonexistent, lodged into a secret crevice she couldn’t grasp. She settled with a shake of her head and hung up the phone. The mess around her was worse than she thought, but she was too lazy to clean up. Deciding to leave this problem for tomorrow, Callie got up to tuck her daughter into bed.

Love to Hate You (part 7)

Words: 2.8k

Summary: You do your best to come to terms with your life with Lucifer.

Warnings: Lucifer is an asshole (yes that’s a warning), implications and mentions of very brief smut, hallucinations (it’ll make sense), emotional manipulation, angst, and feels.

A/N: This was originally going to be the last part, but I got too wordy– so part 8 will be the finale. If you’d like to be added to my master tag list, shoot me an ask or DM (Tumblr doesn’t always give me notifications on comments and reblogs.)

—————

“What the fuck?!” you screamed shrilly as tears threatened to spill on to your cheeks. “I had 2 hours left, god dammit!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Oh hush. What’s 2 hours? You’re lucky I gave you the extra time that I did.”

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variety.com
Samantha Bee’s ‘Not the WHCD’ Should Be An Annual Tradition If Trump Continues to Boycott the Real One
Hours before “nerd prom” kicked off at the White House Correspondents Dinner in D.C. — minus the president — Samantha Bee and her “Full Frontal” cohorts took the…
By Andrea Reiher

Andrea Reiher at Variety:

Hours before “nerd prom” kicked off at the White House Correspondents Dinner in D.C. — minus the president — Samantha Bee and her “Full Frontal” cohorts took the stage at DAR Constitution Hall for TBS’ “Not the White House Correspondents’ Dinner.” The alt-TV special was more than twice the length of a regular “Full Frontal” episode, letting Bee’s typical ruthless comedy and satire loose with both barrels.

If viewers tuned in hoping for an hour of bashing President Trump, they were in for some disappointment. Not that there weren’t some excellent barbs made at POTUS’ expense, but the night was more about celebrating the often-maligned journalists who continue to try to do their jobs in the face of adversity.

“You (journalists) basically get paid to stand in a cage while a geriatric orangutan and his pet mob scream at you. It’s like a reverse zoo. But you carry on. You dig up misdeeds and frauds by the powerful, you expose injustice against the weak and you continue to fact-check the president as if he might someday get embarrassed,” said Bee, to big laughs.

And that was the right approach for this special, taped Saturday afternoon in D.C. and broadcast hours later (10 p.m. ET/PT) on TBS. A full-on roast of Trump would have been enjoyable for a while, but it would have gotten tired. The “Full Frontal” gang is not a one-trick pony, and they put that on a brilliant display, from video segments of Bee performing at imagined past Correspondents’ Dinners (and also an imagined 2018 WHCD for President Pence), to a cold open featuring “West Wing” alum Allison Janney giving a press conference in her snappy CJ Cregg way, to Will Ferrell popping by to reprise his George W. Bush impression from “Saturday Night Live.”

It made for a lively mix of comedy that never felt bogged down or like it was beating a dead horse by repeating itself.

It was also nice to see Bee not pull any punches in regards to the press (not that viewers expected any less). Not only did the special land some pointed commentary at outlets like Breitbart and the way Fox News dealt with its sexual harassment issues, it also did a segment about how much CNN is wasting its cadre of talented journalists in favor of whatever it is CNN puts on the air most of the time. Bee put the blame squarely on CNN president Jeff Zucker’s shoulders.

“Zucker’s greatest success since ‘The Apprentice’ — which, by the way, thanks for that — is filling the airtime between car crashes with a reality show loosely based on the news where loyal partisan hacks make us measurably dumber by spewing mendacious nonsense while a hologram of Anderson Cooper stands by counting the seconds to the commercials for all the pharmaceuticals he probably wishes he could gulp down before to sedate himself before Kayleigh opens her f—ing mouth again,” said Bee, to the appreciative crowd that did include some CNN representatives.

My only quibble with the special is that there were so many pre-recorded video segments it didn’t leave much room for Bee live on stage firing off astute observations and sharp one-liners. She’s an incredibly talented comedian, often delivering three more zingers as the audience gets around to laughing at the first one, so it would have been fun to see Bee more in what is undoubtedly her element. But I understand the desire to want the special to keep changing gears — plus, Bee’s “Man in the High Castle” parody that closed the show was nothing short of genius.

Featuring the man, the myth, the legend George Takei handing the host a film called “The Bee Lies Heavy,” the segment imagined a world where Hillary Clinton won the election, “the Patriots lost the Super Bowl, “Lemonade” won Album of the Year and every print of “La La Land” spontaneously combusted,” and featured Bee’s imagined opening monologue for Clinton’s first WHCD.

There were plenty of zingers leveled at President Clinton (and first gentleman Bill), but Bee ended the jokes with a message that she reportedly couldn’t deliver at dress rehearsal without getting a little choked up. While she held it together here for the actual show, it was still a very heartfelt (and a little sad) way to close out the show.

“In conclusion, Madam President, I want to say thank you,” said Bee. “You may have your faults, but because of you, I can tell my daughters that they can do anything and that sexism won’t hold them back. The world will not magnify their faults and ignore their virtues because of their gender. That time has truly passed. No hard feelings, men. If there’s one message that echoes through this dinner, let it be that men’s rights are human rights and human rights are men’s rights.”

If the trend continues of Trump boycotting the White House Correspondents’ Dinner for however long he’s in the White House, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if Bee made this alternative event an annual tradition.

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Essays in Existentialism: Bands

if you’re still taking prompts I think melancholy!musician Lexa and looking-for-inspiration!artist Clarke could be a cool idea. melancholy was too hard. how about cocky?

The last hour of work was time’s cruel joke. That bothered Clarke, the ability time seemed to have to toy with the emotions and days of individuals, how absolutely astounding it was to not be a constant, steady thing she always believed it to be. Those were thoughts that kept her distracted for agonizing seconds at the end of the day, especially fridays, when she watched the clock refuse to tick. It wasn’t because she was especially busy and had outrageous plans, but it was more that action of clocking out and shedding the corporate feeling of what art could be, and renouncing her sell-out-ishness for a few hours, until the week started again, that kept her attention.

Clarke had exactly one thing on her mind for her time off, and it was standing in front of her canvas with her brush and being unable to start. It’d been a routine she’d perfected over the past few weeks of ridiculous drought of desire to do anything at all. The rush and high of her show last month dried her up, left her hollow and emptied. And now she suffered.

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BTS REACTION TO YOU BEING A GOOD DANCER

KIM SEOKJIN/JIN

Seokjin would invite you to their dance practice, excited to show you how much he has improved in dancing, and to showcase his group’s talents in the upcoming comeback. He’d get all excited when you walked in, and start getting the boys ready to dance for you. They’d perform their choreography, and Seokjin’s ego could only be boosted when you complimented him. Hoseok would ask you, if you wanted to learn it - an exclusive experience he would call it - and to the boys’ surprise, you were absolutely gorgeous at dancing. Seokjin would get even more excited; there are so many talents in you! He wouldn’t feel too bad about him being a worse dancer, he’d only be supportive and use you as a private teacher.

Originally posted by softlytaejin

MIN YOONGI/SUGA

Yoongi would come home, after a long day of practicing for the comeback. He would be all sweaty, and ready to just get a shower and go to sleep with you. He’d hear music coming from your bedroom, and get curious, ready to find out the reason for it. He’d step in, only to see you dancing. He would stay quiet and just admire you and your body’s movements. Yoongi would most likely just compliment you, and tell you how amazing you looked while dancing, but not pay too much attention to it. He’d be proud of you, nevertheless.

Originally posted by yoongichii

JUNG HOSEOK/J-HOPE

Oh the dancing king Hoseok. When he saw you dancing to one of his tracks, his eyes wouldn’t leave your body. He’d be absolutely amazed - his beautiful partner was passionate about similar things as him, and actually good at it, too? Life couldn’t get any better. He’d immediately step in, embrace you with an hug and let the compliments spill out. He’d go overboard with the dancing, always dragging you to the studio to dance your hearts out, sometimes with just the two of you, and sometimes with the other members of the dance line. And why not the other members, as well.

Originally posted by jhope-shi

KIM NAMJOON/RAP MONSTER

Namjoon would call you over to come to the dance studio. He’d want company while trying to learn the new choreography, which was already really hard for him. Of course you’d come over, and he’d start showing you how much progress he’d made. The thing that would surprise him, was that you stepped in to teach him. He’d be all gobsmacked, and when you asked him to repeat what you had just shown him, it would take him a while to understand again. He’d feel a bit bad that even his girlfriend was a better dancer than him, but not let it stop on the way of him learning and developing as a dancer.

Originally posted by rapnamu

PARK JIMIN

Jimin would eventually notice by himself, how much of a dancer you were, by the little swift movements you made when listening to a song. He’d never confront you about it, until he saw you actually moving your body when standing on two feet. Only then would he come over to you and ask you if you wanted to spend more time with him at the dance studio. He’d be absolutely amazed and mesmerized by the fact that you were actually a really good dancer. Finally something that him and you could share.

Originally posted by sugutie

KIM TAEHYUNG/V

Taehyung would be at your place again, practicing the dance moves for a special stage. You’d see him in the living room, dancing his heart out, and you couldn’t help but smile. Taehyung isn’t a bad dancer at all. You’d step in and ask him to show you the moves, and if you could dance with him as well. He’d be more than willing to show you all the moves he has. When you followed him, and looked even better than what he did, he would be shocked. That wouldn’t stop him from dancing with you; if anything, it would only boost up his confidence.

Originally posted by beui

JEON JEONGGUK

You had come over to Hoseok’s and Jeongguk’s dance practice, to keep them both company because of Jeongguk’s request. They’re hard working men, so when you stepped in, they didn’t almost see you. Jeongguk would stop the music when he saw you walking in, and then ask you if you wanted to learn the new choreography they were working on. Without a doubt, you’d say yes. Hoseok would start showing you the moves, and you’d learn quickly, amazing the two men. Jeongguk would only take this as competitive thing; who is better at dancing and who is not. He would keep it cool, though.

Originally posted by nnochu

Birthday Laziness (Jae x Reader)

Word Count: 2.6k

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-13

Prompt: @snow-morning asked: hi hello its my bday today so i was wondering if u could write a day6 jae fluff scenario where they spent the day together and idk really cute and soft

A/N: happy (blated, oops) birthday dude! I hope this is what you were looking for, i hope it wasnt too much r anything lmao. also big shout out to my computer for crashing, deleting my entire final draft :-)

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bellmurph-deactivated20170604  asked:

hi Ari! i adore your blog! for the touch prompt thing 14 & Jimon 😊 thanks! -k

14 - sitting on someone’s lap

sorry this took so long for me to get to (and sorry it’s so short). I hope you like it!

The hardwood floors were cold against Simon’s bare feet as he walked into the cluttered living room. Boxes were scattered around the room – all in various stages of being unpacked. It was their first night in their new apartment, and while Simon was busy trying to put everything away, Jace was sitting on their tiny loveseat with his nose buried in a book. He looked up when Simon walked through the doorway.

“Seriously?” Simon asked as Jace put his book down on one of the boxes. “We still have lots of unpacking to do. It would go faster if you actually helped instead of just sitting there.” He playfully kicked Jace’s foot as he walked past.

Jace grabbed Simon’s wrist before he walked away. “Come on,” he said in a low voice. “Why don’t we take a little time for us?” He pulled Simon against him, manoeuvring him so his was straddling his lap. He ran his palms up Simon’s thighs.

“And just what did you have in mind?” Simon asked, his tone suggesting that he knew exactly what Jace wanted. He rested his arms on Jace’s shoulder, his hands playing with the fine hair at the nape of Jace’s neck. He leaned in so their lips were barely brushing.

In response, Jace leaned forward and closed the distance between them. “I thought that we could really break in the new apartment,” he said between kisses, “you know?” He let his lips trail down Simon’s neck, nipping and kissing at the sensitive skin there, eliciting the most delightful sounds.

“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea,” Simon replied, trailing his hands down Jace’s sides and grinding provocatively against him. It was Jace’s turn to groan. “But maybe we should, uh, go to the bedroom,” he suggested.

“Why?” Jace asked, his hands resting gently on Simon’s hips. “We’re going to do it in every room, eventually, right?” His lips curled into a cocky smirk and Simon couldn’t help but laugh.

“I guess,” Simon murmured, kissing Jace’s jaw lightly. “But this couch is a little small.”

“Well, then,” Jace grinned, “we’re just going to have to get creative.” He tugged Simon’s shirt off before quickly removing his own. He kissed down Simon’s chest, his hands dipping below the waistband of Simon’s jeans and Simon quickly forgot about moving to the bedroom.