wow sorry i tried

I want an AU where Ashi is an assassin masquerading as a geisha to get close to Jack. And if you want more fun, imagine this is is a post-ashifadedies (like in Memories by @sallychanscraps), making her job easy/difficult/confusing/?? ?” 

3

If there’s such a thing as peace, I will find it!

The Hero of Jiraiya’s Novel, Naruto 

7

“Don’t trap me inside walls
Where I can’t see, no
If you won’t have me, then let me go”

170127 Turbulence in Houston | markurheart852

MC: Let’s start with Jackson

Jackson: Okay, let’s start. Wahoo, M-A-R-K! 

Jackson (pretending he is reading off the fan question card): Why are you so hot?

Jackson: That’s not the question

Jackson (pretending he is reading off the card again): Why are you so daddy?

Jackson: That wasn’t the question.

Jackson (reads the actual question now): What was your first impression of the members?

Mark: The worst was probably Jackson.

Bambam: Ohhh!

Jackson (pretending to leave and waving goodbye): It was not seeing you guys

Bambam: The first time I saw Jackson, I just think.. (Jackson interrupts)

Jackson: I talk too much?

Mark: A little bit too much

Bambam: A little bit too much (Mark and Bambam laugh)

MC: That’s why we all love Jackson, right?

Bambam: Yah!

MC: I got you bro!

Bambam: And the best? (referring to best first impression)

Bambam: Actually me I know.

Jackson: It’s actually Yugyeom, right?

Mark: Actually, I think it’s Bambam because

Bambam: Because I’m so young?

excuse the banner i have no talent with editing

It’s been one year since I’ve created this blog and I seriously cannot believe what a great experience I’ve had so far. I don’t do follow forevers, despite reaching follower goals here & there because I am uncreative and lazy, but I really wanted to make one to mark this occasion and to let my followers know what blogs/people have kept my dash ((and my blog)) looking exceptionally beautiful. Special shoutout to the followers who aren’t full or at all BTS blogs but follow me despite not being multifandom most of the time! ily.

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wow so i made a CAS video of how i make my sims nd like. this took 10 years off my life nd it’s not even GOOD i’m sorry 4 the sh*tty quality nd audio!!!!!!! this is so bad omg i barely say any information!!!! wow i’m sorry this is such a Mess but i hope u enjoy anyways!!!!!! i’ll put this sim up for download later!!

the song i used was secret crates - springtime stroll!!

Notes

//hey guys! so i’m really excited to be posting on this blog now, and I hope you like my stuff!!//

Notes. You were working at your current day job as a travel agent, and saw that across the street, a new sign for a store had just gone up. A U-Haul was parked outside, and a group of teenage workers were unloading the truck that was filled with boxes of papers, It seemed.

You started to wonder why a store focused solely on papers could be so important when the phone ringing snapped you out of your daze. You picked it up lightning fast, and droned the greeting that had been drilled into your ear.

“Oceans Away travel agency, Y/N speaking, may I help you?”

“Oh, it’s my little girl, at her first job away from home! I’m so proud of you!”

You sighed. Why did your mother have to call you at this hell you called a job? You didn’t want to be here. You hated travel. As a matter of fact, you were a homebody, so it was strange that you were living so far away from home, in New York City, all by yourself. You had moved here to get a job playing piano in an orchestra, hopefully on a Broadway show. You had most certainly not moved here to be working at a fucking travel agency.

“Mom, do you have to call me at work? If you wanna talk, call my cell after I get off of work. You’re holding up the line. People will complain about not getting through.” You sighed.

That was a lie. No one called Oceans Away travel agency. No one came in the store. You sat along with your colleagues mind-numbingly bored all day with nothing to do.

“No, no.” Your mother protested. “I’m… booking a vacation! Yes, that’s right! Now, what are your deals at the moment?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Mom, I’ll call you later. I gotta go.”

She huffed. “Okay, honey. Have fun! Keep me updated on that soulmate!”

You hung up the phone.

You were almost certain that that soulmate didn’t exist. Every time that your mom or dad would call you, they would ask if you had found that special someone yet. The answer was always no. Or that you were too busy. Or some other excuse. But, you were lonely. You wanted someone to express your feelings too. To spend your time with. To talk, laugh, love with. You were pretty sure that no one like that could exist for you.

The only argument against yourself was your tattoo. The mark that had been etched into your skin since you had turned thirteen. Your friends had all found their soulmates so quickly, perfectly. You were always the odd one out. Even your tatto was strange. There were the common ones, like the puzzle pieces, one half of a yin yang, words that matched. The more you thought about it, the more isolated you felt, so you pushed all thoughts of soulmates to the back of your mind.

You sat in the cramped desk for a few more gruelling hours before your shift was over and you were permitted to go home. You walked into the evening light in the direction of your apartment.

As you walked down the well-lit street, you looked into shop windows, quickly glancing at clothes, electronics, the insides of restaurants, and strangely, black curtains in one. It was quite uncommon to see stores closed this early, it was only six o'clock. Barely evening. You stepped back to see exactly which shop it was. As you glanced upwards, you saw that it was the new shop, the one with the boxes and boxes of papers. Notes.

It was a shame that it was closed, as you had really wanted to see the interior. You shrugged and continued your walk home.

Once opinion your apartment, you set your keys down, and walked to your spare bedroom. In the corner, where a bed should’ve sat, was your beautiful grand piano that you had received for your eighteenth birthday. You browsed through your very limited collection of sheet music in your filing cabinet before picking out a random piece, Clair de Lune.

You sat down at the bench, set your music up in front of you, and immersed yourself in the music for a few minutes. Playing made you forget about all of the shit in your life. While you played there was no travel agency. No pestering parents. No soulmates.

That was your daily routine. Wake up. Get ready. Go to work. Do nothing. Come home. Play the piano. Go to sleep. Repeat.

You weren’t going to lie. Your life was fucking boring. So on your day off, you finally decided to do something with your time. You walked the familiar way to your work, but turned to the opposite side of the street.

You had longed to go into the shop across the street since the day that it had opened. It was like a magnetic field was drawing you in, closer and closer every second that passed. Something had always come up so you couldn’t go inside though, distractions and inconveniences that got under your skin.

As your boots hit the snowy sidewalk leading up to the store, your hand absentmindedly went to trace the five even, horizontal lines on your wrist. Everyday you would try to imagine the possible tattoo that could accompany the strange five lines on your wrist. The tattoo of your soulmate.

You turned and hurried up the few front steps that separated the small building from the road. You pulled open the creaky wooden door and stepped through, feeling comfortable as a warm yellow light fell upon you. You closed the door and as you entered the small shop, a familiar, musty aroma hit you, and you were greeted by piles upon piles of sheet music. Tables in every direction holding all different genres, eras, styles of piano music. Your jaw dropped open with a quiet popping sound. This was paradise for the musician.

Your hands immediately started skimming through all of the piles, very much aware that you were leaving a large mess behind you as you went. Your eyes read hungrily through all of the different compositions, and saw as many composers names as you could imagine. There didn’t seem to be any sections for any specific genre of music, it was all over the place, as if it was thrown together at random.

You worked your way through all of the different aisles and all in all must have grabbed at least ten different pieces. You were very excited to expand your collection, and you really should have watched were you were going. Because as you very sharply turned a corner you were looking at a specific sonata and crashed into someone head on. You and the stranger fell to the ground, loose sheet music cascading around the two of you.

You were mortified.

“Fuck- Oh my God, I am so sorry, I really should’ve watched were I was going, just wow, I am so, so sorry.” You rambled as you tried to gather up all of your fallen music surrounding you.

“No, I’m sorry.” The stranger replied. “I wasn’t looking either. God, this place is like a labyrinth.” He chuckled.

You laughed as well and finally looked up at him.

Woah.

Your heart automatically started beating at breakneck speed, and a furious blush spread over your cheeks. You extended your hand to him.

“I’m, uh, Y/N.” You stuttered, hand shaking.

He extended his with a warm smile, and butterflies erupted into your stomach.

“Lin. Nice to meet you.” His eyes drifted down towards your hand that had managed to keep hold of one composition.

“Moonlight Sonata? That’s my favourite.” He breathed.

Your brought the piece closer to your eyes to examine it. You had heard many times, but never really gave it much attention.

“Really? I’ve never really played this one. Just wanted to try it out.”

He looked shocked.

“You’ve never played Moonlight Sonata?” He countered. “How long have you been playing the piano?”

“As long as I can remember.” You laughed.

“Oh, come on! That’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t think so.” You smiled.

“Really? Then what’s your favourite piece? Also, please don’t say Fur Elise. Everyone says Fur Elise.

"It’s not Fur Elise. I’m not that mainstream. It’s Rondo Alla Turca.”

“Huh, okay.” He guffawed.

You laughed.

“Well, now that you know I’m here to purchase your favourite piece, why are you here?” You asked.

“Looking for inspiration.” He replied simply.

“Inspiration… for what?” You questioned.

“Well… don’t laugh, okay? I’m writing a hip hop musical about Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton, and I need ideas.”

You blinked. Then blinked again. Then spoke.

“Okay, you’re writing a hip hop musical about a founding father… and you need inspiration from a classical music store? Here, I’m sure that this will really help you.”

You handed him Pachelbel’s Canon.

He broke into a wide grin.

“Hey! I told you not to laugh!”

“No, no. I’m helping you, see?”

You were actually laughing uncontrollably.

You both got up and cleaned up the mess that you had made. You paid for your music, and you walked down the street to grab a coffee. You made playful conversation, with you asking him about his musical, him asking you about your playing, and you telling him that your life was extremely boring. He asked you about your family, your interests, goals for the future. He seemed genuinely interested about your life.

And no one had ever portrayed that to you.

And that made you like him even more than you already did.

“Wait, so you’re about to open off-Broadway? I thought that you were still looking for inspiration?”

“Well I am.” He responded. “I make changes everyday. I can’t stop writing. Or playing around with chord progressions and stuff like that.”

“That’s so amazing though. It’s always been a dream of mine to play on Broadway.” You stated.

“How long have you lived in the city?”

“Six months.” You responded. “When I first came, my goal was to be in an orchestra. A pianist. But now I’m stuck in a dead-end job as a travel agent. I hate it, but it’s the only thing paying the bills right now.”

Your wonderful day was cut short when you received a text saying that you needed to cover someone’s shift at the travel agency or you would be fired.

“Shit! I have to cover for my stupid colleague.”

Lin’s eyebrows raised.

“Wait, you have to go right now?”

“Yeah I’m really sorry, but I need this job. It was awesome talking to you! See you around!”

You turned in your heel, and speed walked away, not wanting to be late for the shift you had to cover.

Little did you know, that as soon as you had walked up the street and turned the corner, Lin glanced down at his wrist, and everything froze.

“Y/N!”

This was always your least favourite shift to work, as it was so late once you finished. It was only seven thirty, and you had three and a half hours left. You were tired beyond belief, and incredibly angry that you didn’t get to spend the rest of your day with Lin.

Hours later, you were filling out paperwork for an old couple going to the Bahamas. Out of habit, your fingers traced over the ink, and you glanced down. What was there made your heart skip a beat.

Five lines. With a treble clef. And the three notes of a C-chord.

Your tattoo was complete. It made sense now. You had met your soulmate.

It had to be Lin. It just had to be. It made sense. You felt a connection with him, and he seemed to have felt one with you. You grabbed your purse and ran out the door, closing shift be damned.

You stepped out into the freezing night air, and looked around.

“Damn it!” You yelled, realizing that you had forgotten to get his number.

Now you might never see him again. You did the only thing logical to yourself at the moment. You ran down the street to the music store. You raced up the front steps and tugged at the door, but remembered that the stupid place closed at six o'clock.

Defeated, you walked down the steps and sat against the wall, head in your hands, and cried. You heard heavy footsteps approach you, and your head shot up, fight or flight reflex kicking in. But before you did anything, the person showed you their wrist.

Five lines. With a treble clef. And the three notes of a C-chord.

You stood up, briskly walked over, and crashed your lips into Lin’s. Your hands wove into his hair, his hands down to your waist and the small of your back. Your lips were tingling. Butterflies were flying around in your stomach. And you were happy. It was innocent and sweet, but at the same time, loving and passionate.

As you pulled away for air, you rested your forehead against his.

“The notes are finally there.” You whispered.

He laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

sissysage3000  asked:

Hi! Thanks for the lottery! I was wondering what you guys think Kakashi would be like around Asuma's baby, or how he would behave around any infants. Thanks!

Wow, this took forever to get to you. I’m so sorry! I tried for a lighter tone on this instead of focusing on Asuma’s death, so I hope that’s alright! ~Admin Axel

[Reluctant][Rated G] Kakashi’s First Meeting With A Baby

Originally posted by prism17

Kakashi was squatting behind a bush. 

Normally, he would have found a more dignified hiding place, but tough times call for tough measures and this particular bush was one of the only ones in this part of Konoha that had stubbornly hung onto its leaves after the first cold snap of the approaching winter. Pulling his ever-present orange book from inside of his flak jacket, Kakashi resigned himself to crouching here on the ground until his pursuer either moved on to a new location to search for him or gave up. Whichever came first, he wasn’t picky really.

Eyes darting over dog-eared page of  Icha Icha Tactics, Kakashi read a particularly racy scene that he could recite by heart. Aika, the busty heroine, had just snuck out of her village to have a late night rendezvous with the lover her family had forbidden her from seeing.

Kakashi allowed himself to get absorbed in the story to wile away the time and distract him from his chilled fingers, and maybe he did it a little too well, because suddenly he found himself blinking in the harsh sunlight like a startled raccoon as the limbs of the bush were yanked apart by a familiar pair of hands.

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