time moves still

Have a gif of a sexy combat rolling Hanzo

Now who does that remind you of? They met at Overwatch right? Right???

twenty one pilots performs Holding On To You in front of 12 fans (on their first show outside of their home state of Ohio)
Basement show, Chicago, June 2011 (x)

wade stuck around for manicure night with nat. it shouldnt surprise anyone that the merc with a mouth is excellent for commentary on b-level horror movies, which nat loves. im not always big on talking so its kinda nice to have someone else fill the silence. and red is also his color. he might actually get a return invite. 

though not if he keeps being this handsy. 

4

aight friends, i’m sure y’all remember @greymichaela​’s post, right? time to have a go at it, then

Realizing that I don’t want or need you anymore is a beautiful thing. I don’t survive through your compliments or compulsively check to see if you’ve texted me. Your opinion of me no longer makes or breaks my day. I don’t need you anymore. I don’t want you, at least not as a lover, either. It’s beautiful.

There’s only ever been one person I’ve looked at and thought … “I could quite easily spend the entire rest of my life with that man”.


And sooner or later I need to accept that he’s spending it with somebody else.

—  Ranata Suzuki

Please imagine long after the war, Shepard and Garrus pick up dancing as a hobby. Since their little tango on the citadel, they’ve longed to experience it again - the way their bodies moved together, how it expressed emotions better than words could, how it felt like it was just them.

For someone who could never really dance by herself, Shepard’s a quick learner when it comes to dancing with the one she loves and trusts above any other.

They enjoy it so much they decide to enter a dancing competition. Something different, but rewarding. And at every show, no matter what style the dance is or even if they stuff up, they captivate the audience. There’s just something about the two of them dancing together, something so intimate, so real, so… right.

They don’t care if they win. They try, sure, but at the end of the day, they just enjoy the experience as a couple. They couldn’t ask for more.

I would like to point out Flynn’s very own constructed staircase. Made with wood and bicycle tires. That’s very nice, Flynn. I bet you got an A+ in Croatian shop class.

Sherlock fucking Holmes was ticklish.

John at first realised this at a crime scene – naturally, given their unique lives.

Sherlock was standing over a dead body (but then again, there were few times when he wasn’t). It was the fourth murder, all of them done in the same way – their throats were ripped out, and an ‘x’ was written in blood on the wall,

It started to rain down suddenly – no mention of rain in the weather, or else John would have brought his umbrella – and John put his arms around himself to keep warm.

“Sherlock,” John said, trying to communicate with his friend so that they could leave. He was ignored, obviously… not that he was expecting anything else. A few of the police officers around him were growing impatient as well, muttering and staring at their watches.

“Sherlock. It is raining and I am freezing, and you probably are too. You can come back tomorrow.” Once again, he was ignored.

It was pouring down now. John’s hair was sticking down to his face, and from where he was standing he could see that Sherlock’s curls were flat and hanging down in his eyes. Something in him couldn’t help but call it adorable.

“Sherlock!” he called, still trying to get the consulting detective’s attention.

Nothing worked.

He moved closer, and saw that his friend had his eyes closed.

“Great,” he muttered bitterly under his breath, “mind palace time. We’ll be here all day.”

Sherlock’s hands were clasped together, and if John didn’t know him better he might have thought that he was praying – given that he did know Sherlock though, he knew that it wasn’t even a possibility. It was the gesture he always made while he was thinking especially hard about something in his mind palace.

His middle finger was almost touching his chin, which, if he was tired and thought about it enough, was funny to him for reasons he’d explained to Sherlock before.

All of these were things John had noticed in Sherlock hundreds of times.

Meanwhile, Sherlock looked like he was in no mood and had no intentions of leaving, so John walked closer to him.

He was soaking wet, the coat hanging limply around him and the shirt that had somehow seen the light of day almost see through, and John would be lying if he said that he didn’t look for a second longer than he probably should have. John couldn’t understand why all of this wasn’t bothering him. Then again, there were a lot of things he didn’t understand about Sherlock, and he was growing used to it.

John sighed and kneeled next to him, making sure not to accidently destroy any evidence on the body, and waved his hands in front of Sherlock’s face.

No reaction.

He then poked his cheeks, three times. Sherlock still didn’t move a centimetre, to John’s dismay.

He sighed, and then poked Sherlock in the side.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

Sherlock, at that point, seemed unable to hold it in, and out came a burst of laughter. John looked at him in amazement, and Sherlock seemed to realise what it was that he’d done, and blushed.

Some officers looked at him strangely, and then started muttering amongst themselves.

“So…” Sherlock cleared his throat, “was there something you wanted?” He was still blushing, his cheeks dusted with red that John for some reason just wanted to poke even more.

“Um… yeah, it’s raining, I thought we could leave and come back tomorrow?” Sherlock looked around, as if just noticing that it was raining. John though that he probably was; chances were he hadn’t even felt it so deep into his mind palace.

Sherlock cleared his throat again. “Right, yeah. I’ll get us a cab.” And then he walked off. John raced after him, and watched as a cab pulled in to where they were standing; how Sherlock always managed to find one so quickly, John had no idea.

They both climbed in, and Sherlock looked out the window as John stared right at him.

“So, you’re ticklish?” John exclaimed. Sherlock stared at him and replied quietly, “No.” and John just looked at him once again in amazement. And then he reached out again and poked him sharply in the sides, which prompted another burst of laughter that left a smile on John’s face.

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with this,” John exclaimed, leaving Sherlock in horror as he jumped up out of the cab.

It was a few weeks later that he managed to actually have fun with it; Sherlock had once again, left some thumbs (or were those toes… John didn’t get close enough to tell) in the fridge, and was now attempting to solve a case.

John walked up to the detective and put his hands on his hips, looking straight at him. His eyes were still closed, so John didn’t bother warning him, and instead reached his hands out around Sherlock’s stomach and sides, and started tickling him.

At first there was nothing, but soon enough Sherlock was laughing quietly, which evolved into straight up laughing hysterically. His eyes were very open now, and John watched as his tall friend managed to curl himself into a ball, which was absolutely the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life –

Sherlock was still laughing, but with the position he had manoeuvred himself into, John was finding it harder to actually get a reaction out of him.

He adjusted where he was sitting so that he was basically on top of his best friend and continued to tickle him as he thrashed around, until their limbs were entangled and John’s face was basically on top of Sherlock’s.

He could feel his erratic breathing on his face, and blushed as he realised the position the two were in. He went to move away but instead fell further into the embrace, landing himself less than an inch from Sherlock’s face.

Something inside of John must have just said “screw it” because next thing he knew he was leaning down and oh my god he was kissing Sherlock Holmes and it was amazing and everything he had ever hoped for

Sherlock kissed back slowly, and John couldn’t help but start smiling, and next thing he knew it so was Sherlock, and then both of them were laughing and neither of them could explain why, and then they were back to kissing, and John’s hands were running through Sherlock’s hair…

Sherlock broke the kiss and smiled up at him. His grin was contagious, and soon both of them were just smiling and holding hands and John couldn’t even think straight, and he was just so amazingly happy.

They stayed that way for a while, until Mrs Hudson walked in and saw the two of them now cuddling on the couch. She smiled at both of them.

“It’s about time, boys. Any longer and I would have owed Mycroft £20.”

While he walked by, we looked at eachother. He saw the tears well up in my eyes and I saw the same kind of sadness in his. But he kept walking, and I looked away. Because even though we love eachother, we aren’t meant to be.
—  How tragic it is, to pick between love and what’s better for me // @ex-qui-site

anonymous asked:

I think Harry's team used it to engage the larrie fandom . It was on purpose

This is possible. The timing is quite suspect. I don’t know. We’ll see if anything else comes of it. I am interested to know if it resulted in any sort of spike in sales/streams and what they do next (if anything).