to days to come

6

“And I want people to feel that even as the show ends, we see Booth and Brennan walking off, and they’re changed people, but you want to have that feeling that yes, they’re still going to be out there, and they’re still going to be solving cases and making the world a better place, even if you’re not going to see them anymore. They’re still joking and laughing in the car, having their differences and having those playful fights they have. You really hope that’s still going on when you don’t see it. It’s certainly bittersweet not to be able to see them again, but just to feel that they’re all in a good place and they’re going to be okay. And you as a viewer are going to be okay, too.” - Michael Peterson

Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

March 29

Simon

Technically, I might have cheated a bit.  Then again, we never clearly laid out any rules.  We never actually decided that each player had to wait until the next day to lay their trap, it was just sort of understood.  So if I made preparations the night before, I would say that it’s completely fair.  After all, how can you break a rule if none were ever written?

           When Baz gets up before me to use the shower, I hide my grin under my blankets.

           I dress as the water runs.  

           I take the planned precautions and double-check that I’ve remembered to wear my necklace.

           When the water shuts off, I take my position, sitting on my bed with my back against my pillow, waiting.  The picture of calm, even though I’m buzzing with anticipation.

           I count down in my head as I hear the curtain slide back.

           Three, two, one…

           “SNOW!”

           Zero.

           “Problem, Baz?”

           “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?”

           “I should think it would be obvious.”

           “YOU’D BETTER START RUNNING, SNOW!”

           I don’t move.  I stay exactly where I am and straighten out a crease in my shirt. Crowley, I’m starting to act like him.

           There’s a steady stream of cursing from the other side of the door.  Normal cursing, not magical cursing, though he sounds angry enough to curse me right off the school grounds.

           When he cracks the door open, he doesn’t lean around to look at me.  

           “Oh, come on,” I tell him, “get it over with.”

           He takes a step forward and emerges, wearing only a towel around his waist, half of his body hidden behind the door.  Part of my brain registers the fact that I’ve never seen him with this little clothing on, but I’m very much distracted by his hair.  It’s slicked back with shower water, a few strands hanging in front of his eyes, and it’s blond.  Yellow-blond.

           A smirk takes control of my face.  “Well, that clearly worked, then.”

           “Do you have any idea how bloody dead you are.”

           “Could you hurry up in there?  I’d like to use the bathroom.  Oh, and it’s your move.”

           He slams the door in my face and I bury my laughter in my pillow.

           He takes an exaggeratedly long time to get ready, probably to spite me, or maybe he’s busy trying to magic the bleach out of his hair.  Trixie told me it was extra-long lasting, but it is only Normal bleach with no magical properties.  Maybe I did charm it to be a bit stronger, but he could probably magic his hair back to normal if he tried long enough.  I just wait on my bed, studying my nails casually like I assume he does when he’s tormenting me.

           When Baz finally reappears in the doorway, he’s fully clothed and his hair is still blond, but it’s different now.  It’s dry, and instead of yellow his hair is a soft white. He hasn’t slicked it back like he usually does, just lets it fall around his face like snowflakes.

           His skin is so pale that white-blond hair shouldn’t look good on him.

           But it does.

           It’s light and soft and it makes his heavy gray eyes look gentle, even though he’s currently using them to shoot daggers at me. It’s striking against the green of his uniform, and it’s like he’s turned from a vampire into a wood elf, tall and elegant and smooth.

           His hair looks so soft, freshly washed like this, that my hands actually twitch.  I want to take a lock and rub it between my fingertips.      

           Crowley, it looks good.

           There’s a lurch in my stomach, unfamiliar and cold, and I don’t know what it means.  Not that it matters, I’m definitely not thinking about my stomach right now.

           “I thought I told you to run,” Baz growls through his teeth, his cheeks pink.  Maybe from shower steam, maybe from embarrassment.  I wonder what my cheeks look like right now, with how I feel them heating up.

           “I’m not stupid, Baz,” I reply calmly, even though there’s a weird shiver working its way down my back.  “If I leave the room, you’ll just throw me down the stairs or something.  This is the safest place for me right now.”

           “Maybe I’ll throw you out the window and let the merwolves have you.”

           “Try opening the window, Baz, see how far you get.”

           “What did you do to it?”

           “Nothing serious, just a simple precaution, but you won’t be getting it open.”

           “What if I carried you out the door?”

           “You’d have to fight me to get me there, and I don’t think the Anathema would like that very much.”

           He seethes at me for another few seconds before storming out the door.  I can hear his angry steps all the way down the tower.

           I stay where I am for I don’t know how long. It’s like I can’t move, and my stomach is still feeling hollow.  Not in a hungry way, more like someone took one of my organs out and left a giant empty spot, and now the rest of my organs are frantically shifting around to try and fill the space.  I’m cold and hot at the same time.

           “Crowley,” I say aloud to the empty room.

           It looked good.

 ***

           Penny and I are out on the hill when she sees what I’ve done.

           “Mor-gana, Simon,” she breathes, her eyes wide.  “How are you even still alive?”

           I shake my head, watching Baz as he disappears into the castle.  His hair is even more ethereal in the light of day.  I can only imagine what he would look like if the sun were shining.  He’d have a fucking halo.

           “The better question is, why has he left it like that?” Penny muses, squinting at the doors even after Baz has passed through them.  “Couldn’t he magic it back to normal?”

           “Maybe the dye is too strong.”

           “How exactly did you pull this off, anyway?”

           “I poured hair bleach in his shampoo last night.”

           She shakes her head with a disbelieving laugh. “Crowley, Simon,” she says, “when is this game going to end?”

           I shrug.  I hadn’t thought about it.  “When there’s a winner?”

           “And how do you determine a winner?”

           “Maybe just until one of us concedes.”

           “I know you two,” she scoffs, “that’s not going to happen.”

           Something about her saying you two makes my heart beat a little louder in my ears for just a second.

           “So let me get this straight,” she continues. “First you changed his sugar into salt, so he turned your scones to rock.  Then came the necklace thing, and the glue on the doorknob.  I know he kept turning your music up yesterday, but there’s something missing in between.  Did you forfeit that day?”

           “No.”

           “What did you do?”

           The memory is sour and I grimace.  “I don’t want to talk about it?”

           “Why?  Did it not work?”      

           “I cursed him.”

           “So what?  He’s cursed you loads of times.”

           “I gave him nightmares.”

           Penny doesn’t answer for a second.  “You did what?”

           “They were only supposed to be minor ones, but something went wrong, they were never supposed to hurt him.”

           “How bad were they?”

           I want to scrub the memory from my eyelids. “I had to wake him up because he kept shouting.”

           “Simon, that’s… terrible, actually.”

           “I told you, they weren’t supposed to be scary.”

           “Still, you attacked the mind.  Worse, you attacked the subconscious.”  She looks at me like I’ve taken her food without asking. “Does he know it was you?”

           “I don’t think so.”

           “Is that why you didn’t get mad yesterday when he pranked you?”

           “Why would I get mad?” I shrug.  “I deserved it.”

           “Huh.”

           “What?”

           “I never thought I’d see the day that you felt bad for hurting Baz.”

           I shake my head.  “He might be a twat, but you didn’t hear him.  No one deserves whatever he was dreaming.”

           Penny watches me thoughtfully.  “Hmm,” she muses.

           “What?”

           “Nothing, just… maybe you guys don’t hate each other as much as you think you do.”

*** 

           Baz’s hair is still white-blond later at night when we turn in.  I still have to consciously remind myself to stop staring at it.

           He hasn’t said anything to me since this morning, but I don’t think it’s because he’s mad.  More just the normal silence that exists between us when we’re not actively fighting or shouting abuse at each other.

           I wonder as he turns out the lights if his hair has always looked so soft, or if I’ve just noticed it now.  When he turns it black again, will I still have the urge to touch it?  Is it something I’ve always wanted to do but only just realized?

           A thought occurs to me as his breathing starts to deepen across the room.  “Hey, Baz.”

           “What, Snow?”

           “We match.”

           It’s ridiculous and not even close to true. My hair is the blonde of honey, while his is currently the blonde of fucking snow, but that makes it even more ironic and, naturally, even more funny to me.

           Baz doesn’t say anything, just sits up and punts one of his pillows at me, and I can’t hold in a giggle when it hits me.

anonymous asked:

do you ship tamaki and kirishima

hi i would assume this is referring to amajiki tamaki and kirishima eijirou, in which case it is,, yes

and to prove, here’s a lil something i sonic-draw 

today I had in my hands the document stating the inventory of the furnitures and wardrobe of Louise of Savoy.  

itoucheditwithmybarehands!!!! it felt a m a z i n g. 

the ink of the first page was fading but when you turned some pages it is as if they had just written it down. The ink was gleaming I sweeeeaar. 

a beautiful moment.

yes I felt overwhelmed over a list of spoons, basins, vials & black velvet gowns but I was so neeeaar and I touched it and it is from 1531. I find writing documents so fascinating and moving. like you could hear an echo of the time it was written. like you could almost reach them ( wow im not being clear but it makes totally sense in my mind).

One of those reblog if I can queue things????

Okokok so exams are coming up and im gonna be active less so I’ve been queuing like mad to keep my blog going and I’m running out of content so PLEASE REBLOG IF UR A STUDY/ART/AESTHETIC BLOG then I can stalk u and queue a load of ur posts please and ty ❤❤

Daylight Comes And Goes

It’s one of those grey, rainy days where you just want to pull up the blanket, and cower undercover. It’s one of those worlds, really. 

If I could sit here, and write anything, what would I write? Would it be this, this statement, this question? Would I just put a mirror in front of a mirror and see what’s reflected when there’s nothing to see but the introspection of inanimate objects?

I could be a werewolf, traveling the world in a hustling automobile, making new friends and devouring them. Or maybe I could be some sort of a dirigible, a big floating blimp, climbing lazily through the sky, a sort of manmade cloud maybe full of poisonous gasses and threatening to combust just for the sake of adding a little red and yellow and orange to all that blue, or in this case, grey.

Come on, what do you want to do, do you want to get lost? Do you want to ve found? Do you want to be discovered? Shall we stay an occult message in a world that lacks mystery and imagination? Or do you want to transform, and take on a whole new form? 

Raindrops are prisoners of gravity but they dream of being free.

As do we all.

@riverofwhispers you can’t compare bi people in het relationships and cishet aces and bi people aren’t a “gotcha!” for the ace community to use. I wasn’t attacking anyone for being aro/ace, I wasn’t even saying anything particularly controversial. Calling a bi person straight for being in a het relationship is ACTUALLY invalidating because a bi person is a bi person no matter what but calling a het ace/aro person straight isn’t invalidating because they’re? Straight? If you can have bi and pan ace/aro people then you can have heteroromantic/heterosexual aro/ace people and calling those people straight isn’t erasure?? It’s not erasing their ace/aro identity? They’re still straight? If I called an aroace person straight I’d get the issue but like? 

anonymous asked:

You may be an idiot, but you’re my idiot Robron Prompt for Aaron's prison release calendar

Day 9 of my Aaron comes home drabble prompts:

Robert was going to be late if he didn’t leave right now and yet the image of his husband cooking toast barefoot and shirtless was still distracting enough even after six years of marriage. “Hey,” he said leaning in to kiss the Aaron on the neck. “Where are the kids?”

“Liv’s gone already, Colin’s still asleep and Thea is watching cartoons I think,” Aaron said tilting his head so that Robert could have better access to his throat. “You know she’s getting weirder and weirder Robert.”

“Weird how?” Robert asked wrapping his arms around Aaron and pulling until their bodies we flush from chest to knees. It was heaven.

“She asked me to put her hair in a bun. I tried to talk her out of it. Tried to get her to let me put it in a braid like you showed me but she insisted. And when I finished she just laughed and ran into the other room to watch television,” Aaron actually sounded offended that Thea had rejected his braiding efforts.

“Buns are okay, easier really,” Robert argued forcing himself to relinquish the hold he had on his husband.

Aaron was looking at Robert like he had two heads. “Well, at least now I know where she gets these weird ideas from but she really can’t go to school like that Robert. Maybe, you should have a little word with her.”

Robert didn’t really have time for this but he’d made a deal with himself when the courts had granted them full custody of Thea that he would always make time for his family. Leaving Aaron to his toast Robert went looking for their daughter. Truly his husband was a drama queen honestly what was so outrageous about Thea wanting her hair in a bun.

Robert found her sitting facing him in front of the TV eating cereal out of a plastic mug. Her hair was a mess, to be honest, it looked like it was all coming undone. “Show me what Daddy did to your hair Sweetheart,” he instructed her and when she turned so her back was to him Robert started laughing. Not laughing like wow that was funny laughing but rather his sides were hurting from laughing so hard laughing.

This was a joke, right? There was a hidden camera or something? Vic and Liv were going to pop out from behind the couch any second and scare the crap out of him. Right?

Robert couldn’t resist he pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture. Other people needed to see this. “Silly Daddy,” he said to Thea when she started to giggle. “Bert will be back in a minute to fix it okay?” He waited until she nodded and turned back to the television before heading back into the kitchen.

“You know, you may be an idiot, but you’re my idiot,” Robert said kissing Aaron on the mouth when he was close enough. “I love you, now grab your toast and come and watch me put Thea’s hair in a bun.”

the content literally no one asked for

10

Yuuri tells Victor his thoughts during their first dance.

I want to thank @thehobbem so, so much for co-writing the dialogue! She spent hours going through metas and crafting this line-by-line with me. Yuuri was much harder to write for than Victor and I couldn’t have done it without her tireless work. ;u; I also want to thank @teasidesketches for doing final revisions despite not being in the fandom. You two are the best. <3

I also want to dedicate this to @solfegefaerie for being the first one to give me the idea of writing Yuuri’s vows. They’re not vows this time, but I thought this was suiting. :) 

If you can, you should read this while listening to “Yuri on Ice.” I matched the flow of the comic to that of the song, hence the tribute to the representation of Yuuri as the lone piano until Victor comes into his life as the violin (in case you were wondering about the sudden Music AU thrown in the middle there). 

Pair comic to Victor’s Vows.