up hi

staring at the ceiling and listening to sad pop punk songs is slowly becoming my thing

Maul: “… he will avenge us.” *rolls back eyes*

Obi-Wan: “…. What are you doing?”

Maul: “I’m dying.”

Obi-Wan: “What? All I did was burn your shirt.”

Maul: “Shut up, Kenobi. Can’t you let a man die in peace?”

Obi-Wan: “You can’t just will yourself to die!”

Maul: “I can and will.” *closes eyes and concentrates really hard*

anonymous asked:

HC where the Russian team plans a surprise birthday party for Yakov and Yuuri has to distract him for the afternoon


Q: Member you wanna stay forever with….

Taeyong: Yuta. :)

Yuta: Psst, I thought you forgot about me and choose Jaehyun. /looks at Winwin lovingly. Mine will be Win-

Winwin: Jaehyun.



Please, Stop / Mitsuhide x MC

Kisses with Meaning Prompts

@belxsar: Hello, for your ‘Kisses With Meaning’ prompt drabbles, I’d like to request Mitsuhide with either eyelid, nape, or wrist (you pick because I can’t!) please. Thanks so much! :) Love your writing and your blog! <3

  • Mitsuhide + Eyelid (adoration) + Nape (deep attachment) + Wrist (desire/lust)

It’s a game she comes up with on the spot to test a few things, meant to last only a heartbeat. But looking at him now, and every moment before and after, she knows she will never be able to help herself, not when he sits there so fraught and tidy, refusing to play. There will be a wrinkle in his sleeve and a wrinkle in his brow, as well as a wrinkle in his words and a wrinkle in his calm, and she will want nothing more than to reach out on every plane and see how much more wrinkled it would get under her touch.

She does enjoy it. She can admit that. But it won’t even be the best part.



She thinks him untouchable, invulnerable, as stalwart as a battle ship heaving out to sea, and it infuriates her, because she can see the wear and tear. From the pier she wonders why he doesn’t.

“May I kiss you?”

So she plays with him, poking and prodding with gentle paws, until it’s a glorious mess: the stillness. The fake tranquility that goes washing over him and seeping out through his pores. His brush stills. His breath stills. His eyes still. And every inch of his control frays under an invisible, indomitable, weight.

Like the cat that got the canary, she bares her teeth at him in—

“Leave me,” he says.


“I beg your pardon?”

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What we have been waiting for!

Sort of. 

This episode wasn’t written by Duff, but Kendall, who LOVES Sharon. 

That’s why this episode is what we want. Not quantity, but QUALITY. We learned Andy’s ex’s name, we got Andy’s past and what went wrong in his marriage, we got Sharon & Ricky talking about her marriage and ex and faith, and we got back story on Sharon and the victim! Nothing physical, yet SO MUCH KNOWLEDGE shown to us. But it only happens when Kendall writes. 

So do not stop fighting for what you believe we deserve to see. The goal is to get DUFF writing these types of scripts, not just the writers who come in for one or two episodes a season :)

Side note - Mary was GORGEOUS in this episode. Hair, make-up, clothing was ON POINT. She was glowing again. I love that when it happens ♥


@pocpotterweekmarch 23rd: favorite ship

“Then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before…and it was blissful oblivion, better than firewhisky; she was the only real thing in the world.”

Imagine listening to Vernon talk about his aspirations as an artist and being in awe of him because his passion, despite his young age, is really strong.


There’s a great mammal in the ocean known as the 52-hertz whale. All year, he practices his love song for the female. Travels thousands of miles to find her. But when he finally gets the chance to serenade her, she doesn’t give him a call back. Why? His love ballad is sung at 52 hertz, a sonic signature one note higher than the lowest sound of a tuba. The average female hears at 10 to 15 hertz. So she never hears his song.

Recreational Scolding

Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Just something I found on my laptop, enjoy!


She appears to be part hobbit.

It’s Mycroft Holmes’ first thought when he reaches out to take the hand of the, frankly ridiculously tiny, local sheriff he’s here to meet. She’s… perky, he believes that’s the word the Yanks would use to describe her. Blond (of course), cheerful (good grief, is she cheerful) and watching him with the sort of offhandedly doe-eyed gaze that bespeaks either idiocy or great intelligence.

Mycroft looks at the young woman, takes in her studiedly casual business suit and small, puckish grin. Her subtly dissecting gaze. She smiles at him, blindingly bright and charming, and Mycroft decides that it’s probably intelligence which lights her countenance.

For a moment, just a moment, he is reminded of Sherlock when he was a boy, and he forces the thought rather sharply away.

“Veronica Mars,” she says when the silence has stretched out to a slightly uncomfortable degree. Mycroft does so enjoy making people uncomfortable. “That’s my name,” she’s saying. “And this is the part where you tell me yours.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Or are you going for strong and silent, hmm?”

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