this is totally outside my comfort zone ill have you know

anonymous asked:

Idea for a jikook fic: (really typical but cute) • Jimin is the new nerd/shy boy at school • Everyone thinks he's stunning cause he is..Ofc(Purple/silver hair era, because he kind of looks like a prince) • Jungkookie is a bad boy at the same age as Jimin. (You never walk alone hair era because it's messy) • Jungkook finds Jimin annoying because he is stunning and smart BUT poor • Jungkook on the other hand is a rich kid with a lot of problems at home • Jimin finds out Jungkook's secrets • LOVE

Okay so this has been sitting in my inbox for months now and I’ve just had 0 motivation to write a fanfic. not just off this prompt, because i love it. but a prompt in general. so instead i’m going to do headcanons. I hope that’s okay! 

(note: this is amercan school bc i’m too lazy to look up details on korean school oops)

~ Jimin just moved from Busan to Seoul. He was pretty out of his comfort zone at his new school. He had dyed his hair silver because he liked it, not so that he stood out. but that’s all that happened - was him standing out. 

~The first person that he met was Taehyung, who ended up being his best friend and self-proclaimed soulmate. They had met when Jimin had been trying to find his first period and had accidentally tripped over Tae’s leg. 

~Jimin got dubbed as the shy new boy by almost the entire student population. It wasn’t even a small school, yet they all knew him. 

~Some called him a nerd because he tried to join the debate club, but he only joined because tae was too scared to be in the club by himself after he had accidentally pissed off the club leader. 

~He first saw jungkook after school, jungkook was leaning against the school wall with a group of his friends (basically 97 line) and he was laughing and jimin lowkey fell in love with his smile. 

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anonymous asked:

Can I get a mactchup, pretty please? (Only UT, please... I'm not very fond of AUs...) I'm a female, the shortest of my family despite being the big sister. I usually do something just if it interests me (you have to paint a room, count with me! Ah? moving furniture first? Nu-uh). I usually spend way too much time thinking over small things and that ends causing me anxiety and sending me to bed because it literally makes me ill. I'm calm and patient but I can't stand any injustice (1/2)

Your match is Undyne!! You’re a total babe, she can respect that. Count on her to drag you outside of your comfort zone if she has to, but even she knows her limits & will give you a break if you really need it. She’s also really good with pep talks, & can calm even the most frazzled of nerves (sometimes while sparking a few of her own in the process). She supports all of your hobbies, from watching anime to taking pictures–& she’s more than happy to pose for you on occasion–like when she’s LIFTING GIANT BOULDERS!!!

I Hate This

Prompt:Dan and Phil have a panel on playlist live or vidcon (or something similar) and Dan collapses in front of everyone on stage and Phil catches him. It can be fluffy and all that :3 I’m not sure if that’s a decent prompt or not… but there you go anyways! I love your phanfictions by the way <3”

A/N: Wrote as a part of the narcolepsy series.
 Fluff, chronic illness, slight angst.


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vullo  asked:

TELL ME ABOUT ARTHUR whhat is hi s deal what happen

okay let me preface this by saying i have watched this video about 20 times now at least„ so hopefully i can pull enough stuff to clear things up for people

first things first, the song (ghost) initially seems like its more about lewis, because, you know, hes kind of literally a ghost? and some of the lines definitely are more focused on him but a lot of the song focuses on arthur as well, so ill try to grab both screencaps and lyrics to help clarify

im gonna start at the flashback for the sake of chronological order and getting the motives and whatnot out of the way

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Floofley and Chell kisses under the cut

I’ve never written smut before

I cut it while it was still clean enough that i felt comfortable posting it because amg i’ve never done anything like this before and i don’t want to completely overwhelm/humiliate myself the first time…. I didn’t make it any farther than kissing, really. but it’s a start. You have to start somewhere.

and yes MV, i am a sissy. i’ll go farther some other time maybe perhaps ormaybenotbecauseomgi’mblushingsohardrightnow

and uh, it makes for a better reading experience if you set the blog player to something cheery.

Wheatley set Chell down inside the doors of their home, both their faces flushed with the excitement of so many well-wishers, who had turned up for their wedding, and then seen them all the way to the door. She glanced over her shoulder at the face of her new husband, as he waved to throng of townspeople with the hand holding the suit jacket he had just removed. He was so different than when she had found him, weak, scared, naked and alone. He hadn’t even known how to walk, and when he had first tried, his unused legs had crumpled weakly beneath him. That first day, when they had finally staggered out of aperture together, him leaning heavily on her shoulders, had been the first time he’d seen the sun. In the three years since they had left aperture together he had had to learn so much, but she had grown with him in many ways. Not remembering her own childhood, his constant naiveté about the world had opened her eyes to the way he saw the world, big and bright and full of beautiful things. And then, she had realized slowly, ever so slowly, that out of all of those beautiful things, he considered her the most beautiful. Wheatley hadn’t said anything, not at first, anyhow, but sometimes she would catch him looking, after he had dragged her out of the house to look at a sunset, she would catch him looking at her instead with the same rapt expression, the same baited breath and bewilderingly appreciative grin. And after a while, despite everything that had happened between them, Chell just couldn’t find it in her heart to treat him with the cold, dispassionate silence that had been her only defense for so long.

“Well, Mrs. Michelle Johnson,” His Bristol accent was so, so familiar, after all, he rarely stopped talking for anything. “What do you think of that name then?”

She turned around, pulling him down to her height by his bow tie, untying it in the process. Their lips met for the umpteenth time that day, but unlike the kisses they had exchanged earlier in the presence of onlookers, this one was slow and wet and lingering. Chell bit at his lower lip, her tongue tracing over his slightly-chapped lips. She slid her hands back from the side of his face to his neck, playing with the curls at the base of his head, slipping under the collar of his shirt to trace the outline of the steel port on the back of his neck. Blue shone through her eyelids, the light shining through Wheatley’s own closed eyes, intensifying with the rise in his pulse. He held her to him in his strong arms, almost holding her off the ground.

Their mouths broke apart and she looked down as the blue light shining from under his shirt faded, and he pressed his lips against her forehead. She slid her hands from the back of his collar to the front, undoing each of the buttons of his white collar shirt. She unfastened the last of the buttons, working the tucked-in shirt out from under his belt with her fingers. Wheatley pushed his forehead against hers, nuzzling her, begging for her lips again. She didn’t hold back. He broke away from her lips, nibbling his way along her jawline before burying his face in the crook of her neck. She flinched slightly as his thick sideburns tickled the underside of her chin. He made his way back up slowly, stopping to bite gently at her earlobe before making his way back to her mouth. She pressed against her husband, backing him up a few steps until the backs of his knees collided with the edge of the sofa and he lost his balance.

Wheatley and Chell fell together onto the couch. She felt him run his hands up the sides of her dress, around the back, and then heard the zipper as he unfastened the white lace gown. He grinned at her when he reached the bottom, as she fixed his glasses for him. “Thanks, luv,” his voice was catching, and the ‘luv’ trailed out in a small, giddy hiccup. “I wouldn’t want to miss this view.” He tucked piece of her hair that had loosened itself from the bun behind her ear, following the curve of her head back with his fingertips and pulling out the jawed clip that held her thick dark hair in place. No longer held together by the zipper, the dress fell around her body, sitting around her waist like the petals of a white rose, as her dark hair tumbled down around her face and shoulders in thick locks. Wheatley pulled her in to another kiss, this time letting his hands play down her back, pausing to unhook her bra, and down and around to her hips, then he pulled them back around, up her stomach, gently running his fingers across her bare skin. She took her turn leaving his lips, burying her face in the warm blue light that emanated from his chest.

The fingers of her right hand traced their way gently down the scars across his chest, the product of about thirty-odd surgeries he had had as a child. She had been there, he said. Wheatley had only been 12 when they put him in the core. In a lot of ways he was still such a child inside, despite the fact that he was physically in his mid-thirties, and had spent god-only-knew how long conscious through a remotely run robotic personality sphere. She pulled back from him, staring at his face, questioningly, hesitant. But the smile that broke across his face as he looked up at her was not only reassuring- it was contagious. The pause lasted a little longer, and then he reached out and ruffled her hair. She batted him away playfully, standing up to gather up the dress. Wheatley got up and followed her and she caught him lightly with a fistful of white taffeta. “Oh now you’re asking for it, luv,” he chuckled, as she scampered giggling into their room. Chell had just enough time to toss the dress on the cabinet before he caught her, his momentum sending them both tumbling, laughing, onto the bed.

Dear Old Dad

Igneel Dragneel was the name broadcast on TV’s everywhere back in the day- the name that had parents muting the sound and holding their child just a little bit closer, double checking they locked the doors (as if that would really stop him). He left cold the blood of even the toughest, bravest sonofabitch there was. 

But just when the police were beginning to catch up, he disappeared; fell of the map completely. Leaving behind a legacy…

and an orphaned son. 

umm, idk what to really say about this other than the fact this is the end result of a Criminal Minds marathon when you have NaLu on the brain… sorry? 

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