i remember one time in 3rd grade a girl used to always steal jokes from That’s So Raven and everyone thought she was funny. and i thought she was such a fraud. so I exposed her and read her for filth in front of the whole class when I said “You got that from Raven Synome. You’re not Raven, and you’re not funny.”

The way Francis utters “Ms. McClane” from his van, garbling it yet determined to verbally push it out so as to reach out, when he offers her a ride home, is the most moving gesture in the entire series.

Slant Magazine on Richard Armitage’s performance in Hannibal episode 309. (x)

Considering the context of who Francis actually is, the scene is flabbergasting for its empathy and awareness of vulnerability, bringing to mind some of the vocal effects that Charles Laughton landed in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

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Eren huffed lightly as his cloak was in the hand of someone much taller than him. Not having his cloak on made the boy feel…uneasy about the fact he can’t hide his large bone wings and his tail. “Come on give it back” he whined softly, jumping in an attempt to take his cloak out of the others hand.

anonymous asked:

i'm i the only one that misses laura's straight hair :( idk she looks great either way but something about her straight hair it was just right

No you’re definitely not the only one who misses her straight hair.

In the Shallows

Pairing: Jongkey
Rating: R, mostly, with one NC-17 segment
Word count: 29,000
Warnings: Violence, language, child abuse
Other notes: This was my entry for Shinee Big Bang this year! It was a privilege to go up against so many good writers! You can check out the winning entries here! Special shout-out to minearebigger for winning first place! It was such a treat to be their beta reader. ^^

Under the water, the silence filled his ears until only the throbbing of his heart remained. Under the water, his clear eyes gazed up at the reflected ribbons of light that undulated across the ceiling like a school of fish. Under the water, his arms lost their heaviness and floated by his side. Under the water, he was at peace.

For as long as he could hold his breath.

Jonghyun sat up, gasping, in the bath, the water coursing off his hair and over the curved slope of his back, and meeting the water below with a ringing slap. They were fighting still, downstairs, and he could hear the heavy sound of his father’s feet on the linoleum, as he paced, as he always did, in front of the kitchen table. His mother was talking now, very rapidly, in sharp, querulous bursts, interrupted every few moments by the deeper rumble of his father’s voice. And standing out against it all, the shrill beeping of the oven timer, which invaded and dominated his brain until that was all he could hear, and he felt he might go mad if he had to listen to the insistent noise for one more moment.

He hurriedly washed himself and stood up in the tepid bathwater, shivering as he waited for most of the water to scurry down his back and legs. There was a bathmat, but he was not supposed to stand on it while soaking wet, or he would be scolded for leaving it sodden on the floor. At last he lifted one foot and shook it clear of the water before placing it neatly on the bathmat, followed by the other. Only then did he reach for the thin towel on the counter in front of him, and palm his shaggy hair roughly with it, before wrapping it neatly around his hips. 

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