yeah i was inspired by the first quote

you can hear it in the silence

Word count: 2.3k
Rating: Mature 
Genre: Fluff/Smut/tiny bit of angst i guess
Warnings: Mentions of sexual content, mention of slight anxiety 
Summary: Dan and Phil meet in a nightclub; eight years later, Dan turns 26.

A/N: A timeline of Dan and Phil’s relationship after they meet for the first time in a nightclub. This is a fic inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “You Are In Love” (lol) and also by snsknene’s fic “@AmazingPhil: Landed in Vegas!" 

(read on ao3) 


It’s dark in the crowded room, and the music is way too loud for Phil’s liking. His jacket clings to him because of the thin layer of sweat forming on his arms, and the lights are making him dizzy. And yet, the beat that pulsates up his feet and through his spine and up his head is numbing and relieving, like laughing at a dumb joke.

He walks across the room, happy and annoyed all at once, thinks about getting a drink just to have something to do with his hands. The music only seems to get louder, and the people start chanting a chorus he doesn’t know the words to, but thinks it sounds familiar, thinks he must’ve heard it somewhere, thinks this kind of music is always around somehow even if you don’t actively search for it.

Bartenders at clubs must know how to lip read, he thinks, ordering his drink with a loud shout that he’s sure got lost in the loud thumps of the music that seem to glister through the air itself. It’s dark and the music is slower now and the lights are dancing green and pink; the waiter hands him a drink that reflects the neon blue and he recognizes a stranger from across the room.

He drinks a big gulp of his cheap tequila mojito, ignores the fact that it’s not a real mojito because there are no mint leaves in it, and looks across the room to make sure it was real, make sure he was real. His eyes reflect the dark sort of light that shines in here, and Phil walks towards him with steady steps, and manages to make it across the room without spilling any of the drink.

When he finally gets there, he can’t even make out the difference between his heart and the deafening beat, thinks about how clubs aren’t even his kind of place; thanks about every god that could exist for putting him in this club at this exact moment.

It’s almost like a silence, the lights starts turning on a off really fast and everything is like a stopmotion movie, the kind that he’d like to make someday, and then the lights are out and a song is surely playing but Phil can’t hear it.

The stranger turns to him, smiles and then turns serious again, staring at him so intensely that Phil doesn’t know how to act. He reaches out a hand and Phil takes it, lets the stranger come closer, their hands clasped together above their heads as the music shakes the floor and their shoulders brush.

The stranger whispers into Phil’s ear, and he feels like it’s impossible that he actually heard it, but he does, hears him so clearly when he says,

"I’m Dan.”



The road is dark and quiet and long ahead of them, and the heating makes a quiet and rumbling noise and there’s nothing besides that and Phil’s breathing keeping Dan from falling asleep. The clock on the dashboard reads 2:30AM, but it feels like another dimension where time doesn’t exist, where nothing exists beside what’s right there beside him.

The radio still plays Phil’s playlist, the one with all the slow, melodic, instrumental songs, and although Dan was fearing falling asleep the playlist was comforting like few things were. In between songs he listens to the sound of the wheels on the concrete, tries to see the road behind the headlights and gets a little terrified when he realizes it’s way too dark for him to be able to make out anything. He imagines the headlights giving out, the complete darkness that surrounds them, thinks about whether the knows the number to emergency –

Phil stirs beside him, leaning his head towards the middle rather than the window, and mumbles something Dan can’t make out. He stirs again when they reach a curve, and the phone on his lap falls to the floor.

His eyes open, and Dan has to try very hard to focus on the road when he sees the way Phil’s eyes shimmer in the very dim light inside the car. “You’re up” he says, his voice quiet and strained from the things he didn’t say. There are very few things he hasn’t told Phil yet, but even those are weighing on his chest like his ribs are made of marble.

They stop a few miles ahead for gas and coffee, and Dan’s really mad at Phil for still having perfect hair after a 3 hour car journey where he fell asleep. He buys them both coffee while Phil uses the loo, puts the cups on top of the car and breathes in the cold air on the outside, hands in his pockets while he listens to the silence.

Not thirty seconds later Phil is walking towards him, the white light of the convenience store lighting up half of his face and making him look like a creature out of another world or dimension. Dan catches his breath and almost turns to look the other way, feeling embarrassed at the feeling rising at the base of his stomach.

Phil reaches the car and stops in front of Dan, pulls him in by the collar of his jacket and kisses him so deep that Dan feels the breath being pulled out of his lungs, and says,

“Thanks for driving. You should’ve woken me up.” He says, with a yawn that contradicts what he’d just said. His eyes crinkle and the convenience store lights flickers, Dan’s thinks how stupid it is to say he’s going home when he feels at home right there.

“I love you” he says, still a little bit mumbly and breathless from the late hour and the kiss, and Phil reaches into his pocket for the car keys.

“I love you too.”



The lights are off and Phil’s hands are fumbling around searching for the lube he out of the drawer just a second ago. It’s silence and breathing, and Dan’s lips are firm and insisting against his; his breath is so warm, Dan’s so warm.

He finds the little bottle, pours some on his fingers and loves the sound of Dan whimpering beneath him, loves that Dan’s comforter is on his bed, loves the fact that he didn’t draw the blinds and that he could see the twinkling lights of Manchester out of the corner of his eyes.

“I’m ready Phil,” Dan breathes out, whispers, nearly doesn’t make sound. Phil positions himself and slides into Dan, kisses him as deeply as he can, wants Dan to know that he’s everything, everything. It’s silly and Phil’s heart is bursting, he feels like he’s going to die with the amount of feeling.

The room is dark and Dan’s breaths fill the air, Phil shifts position and Dan moans, pulls Phil closer, so close, his fingernails digging into his back. They are sweaty and it’s nearing 4AM on a Tuesday morning, and in the darkness of the room everything clear and glistening with how true it is, how real.

Phil feels like he loses all his senses for a moment, can only make out Dan’s chest against his, his whimpers in his left ear, and the rest is all gone. And even when there’s silence after they stay like that, refusing to let go even amongst the stickiness and the damp bedsheets. There’s no proof of feeling, Phil thinks, there’s no way to get into a different person’s brain. But his heart is beating so hard against his ribcage he’s sure Dan must be feeling it, wants to make sure that he is.

He brushes Dan’s hair out of his face, takes his sweaty hand and brushes the fingers against his lips, holds it against his upper rib cage, tries to contain his breathing. Dan lays his head on Phil’s shoulder and breaths out a shaky breath, feels like close isn’t close enough; nothing could ever be close enough.



The toast is burnt and the coffee is watery, the weather is shit and Dan’s having a horrible day.

He goes out to get a haircut, proceeds to hate the haircut and hate even more the fact that he fakes a smile at the lady who cut it. He can’t stop messing with it for the rest of the day, and Phil notices when they meet up at Starbucks for lunch.

“I think it looks good” He says, biting into his bagel and sipping on his macchiato, playing on his phone and brushing his stupid straight perfect hair out of his eyes.

“Hmpf” is all Dan manages in response, annoyed at himself for being annoyed, annoyed that he was unable to have a real conversation with Phil, making the terrible mistake he always made of expecting this to be the start of something worse, something bigger, something ending.

They go to Ikea and shop for dumb kitchen utensils and Dan feels weird, hates that he’s in such a terrible mood, is so annoyed at everything Phil says.

“Dan, we can come back another day, or you can go home and I’ll do it myself if you’re not up for it” Phil says, and it’s in a sweet and caring tone, but Dan knows him well enough to know that this is his annoyed voice, the voice that would rather he left.

“Well, fine” he says, overreacting, regretting it as soon as he says it. He turns away, waves a lame goodbye and tries to make himself cry listening to sad music on the bus ride home. When he gets there, he walks up the stairs pitying himself and hating himself, throws himself onto the bed and wishes Phil would come home soon more than anything else.

When he finally does, Dan’s in pyjamas in the lounge, dozing off while watching the great british bake off, doesn’t know exactly when he started being tired as soon as 10 PM. He looks at Phil and sighs, not wanting to be the one who apologizes, feeling like an idiot for having so much pride.

Phil takes his time placing everything into the kitchen – Dan hears him drop things about seven different times, – and when he finally walks back into the lounge, also wearing pyjamas, Dan’s dozing off again.

“C'mon, we’re going to bed now” Phil says, stretching out a hand at Dan, whose eyes are burning from sleepiness as well as the almost-tears that sting his eyes at the fact that Phil is still there, still willing.

He gets up, follows Phil into the room, gets under the covers even though he hadn’t brushed his teeth, and drifts off, only properly falling asleep when Phil turns off his bedside light and pulls Dan closer to him with warm hands around his waist.

It’s very late – or very early – when Dan wakes up again, kind of panic-y, kind of sweaty and feeling constrained in the sheets, instantly searching for Phil and accidentally kind of punching him in the process.

Phil wakes up with a muffled ouch and sits up to put one hand on Dan’s shoulder, doesn’t even say anything before Dan’s leaning into the touch, turning around to grab Phil’s shirt and dig his head into Phil’s chest.

“You’re my best friend Phil. I’m sorry” is what he says in the hazy state of semi-consciousness, and they both lay back down, Phil placing a kiss on Dan’s hair, interlocking their legs.

“I know.”



They’re sitting in one of those weird private rooms at the sushi restaurant, and Phil’s forgotten how to use chopsticks again. Outside the voices are loud, but this little room is quiet and excluded and poorly lit, and Dan loves sitting on the tatami floor with his knee brushing up against Phil every so often. He loves trying to teach Phil how to hold the chopsticks, loves that he can use it as an excuse to touch his long pale fingers.

Phil eventually gives up, picks up one of the maki rolls between his fingers, dips it in the soy and only spills a few drops when trying to feed it to Dan. He laughs and laughs at himself, and Dan cannot stop smiling even though his mouth is full.

It’s just the two of them this year, no friends, no tour crew, no family. Just them, just the way Dan likes it.

Dan almost forgets the occasion until the waiter drops in and clears their table, putting a bowl with three mochi and one slice of not-japanese-looking chocolate cake in front of them. When he leaves, Phil says,

“The cake is not from here, I got it at that weird bakery you liked that we went to once.”

Dan’s eyes go watery and he tries to blame his feeling on all the sake he’s had, but the truth is he’s so happy. So happy he giggles, smiles a watery kind of smile when Phil starts singing happy birthday in a low voice.

“I love you” Dan says, doesn’t want to blow out the candles but does it anyway because Phil’s taking pictures of him doing it. It’s silly but Dan feels like he’ll remember this moment forever; sitting in the dim reddish light, watching Phil’s eyes light up behind his phone.

“You haven’t blown it out properly!” Phil exclaims, his voice going up a whole octave and Dan goes against his beliefs, makes a wish, wishes for cheesy and dumb things like eternal happiness, Phil by his side forever.

“It won’t come true if I tell you” he says later, when they’re changed into their pj’s, ready for bed and Phil hovers above him, crawls over him on the bed to kiss him.

“Hmm” is what he answers, licking into Dan’s mouth as he reaches to turn off the light.

anonymous asked:

Okay, different person here, just gotta say I feel like there's a very fundamental difference between injustice!supes and hydra!cap besides the AU stuff. Because even in injustice, superman still means well. Yeah he's all wrong, but he still just wants to protect everyone. Hydra cap is just... a straight up nazi. (1)

Like, injustice is basically asking ‘what if superman wasn’t as strong as he is mentally’ which still rings wrong because supes is a hero who’s supposed to be infinitely strong to inspire us, while hydra cap just asks ‘what if cap never had any morals in the first place’ which… is even worse of a disservice to his character. (2/2)

i have replied an anon regarding Injustice “is just an Elseworld" here. i won’t belabour my point because I’m tired of typing the exact same thing over and over again.

'what if superman wasn’t as strong as he is mentally’

that isn’t an what if, the fact that Superman suffers depression, suicidal thoughts, survivor guilt and has to meet a psychiatrist is something that has been established in the comic. he isn’t always strong, he has made mistake, he has killed, he carries the burden differently than the rest. but it has never brought him over the edge thanks to all the people around him. to push him to cross that line, it will take more than Lois dying because her death will actually keep him even farer away from the edge.




just think long and hard for a while about one question: why is it that Ending Battle - a story arc with all the big names in comic book world, isn’t as well-known as an “Elseworld" game called Injustice?

Mass Reply

Sorry, turns out to just be easier to do it in bulk. I’m still fuming over the way tumblr screwed up the activity page.

@nightmareon3rdst and @ofmanynames

She’s really proud of how well they turned out. They’re a white base coat with a neon orange coat, some red squiggles on top of that to add some depth of color. Or so I was told. That’s topped with a black crackle paint. Then I just topped it with my godsend of a topcoat.

@inuy21 – Yeah, it’s one I really like. I was going through a stack of random scrawled on whatever was handy writing notes I found when I was emptying a box in my room yesterday. That’s where I found this character inspiration sheet with those three quotes that kind of reminded me of Tala. I don’t know where I found them; could well have been on tumblr in the first place. But I wanted to make sure that I had them somewhere – so I just posted them here for reference if I needed to look them up again later.

But that one really captures her current state. She’s lost her memory. And she just took off on a potentially confusing and frustrating journey of finding herself through an internet search in an alternate timeline of history. So there is the chance that things won’t be quite what she is or what she wants. But right now she kind of feels a little lost in her own head. Like maybe finding out who she was might give her more control over the uncontrollable situation she’s in right now.

@inuy21 That’s my goal too. My trainer would like me to get to 15-30 minutes of high impact cardio after training sessions. I’m still falling just short of ten. I’m hoping in a month I’ll be able to push that farther. No rush though. I’m doing what I can, and that’s the important part.

@painterofhorizons It was a shockingly productive day. And that link you sent me really did help. I have some little things here and there I need to finish in the unpacking of my room, and some big things, but I’m hoping that since I actually remembered to plug in my bluetooth headset today I should be able to busy about in my room off and on during class. 

Speaking of, I should probably make my bed. 

“ Goku shows up to the fight because he can.  Yamcha shows up even though he can’t.  He sees others succeed where he fails, and he accepts it graciously.  He doesn’t need to be the center of attention because he has self-respect.”

- @duhragonball

This pic was inspired by their post here but specifically that quote =3

Fist post WOOT~

Yamcha’s been my fav for forever, so as the blog title implies, yeah I was gonna draw him first XD


i was asked for random Dan and Phil quotes so took the opportunity and made my first bff matching (or not if u don’t want 😂) wallpapers || inspired by the krave challenge vid as u probably already realised tbh haha

anyway hope its okay @skylerthebluewolf don’t repost but like and reblog please💞💍

and yeah they don’t exactly match up ik oops sorry 😶x

The Quiet Sense of Something Found

He had enjoyed ten years of being totally irresponsible for Veronica Mars’s stomach, and yet somehow here he was, back to the care and feeding of his local black hole.

“How is it that you can manage everything while I’m gone, but as soon as I’m back you lose your ability to boil water?” he asks, a sleepy smile pricking up his lips even as he keeps his eyes closed and presses his face into the pillow.

“Your mistake is in confusing can’t and don’t want to. Besides, after two weeks, don’t you think I deserve a return to breakfast in bed?” She accompanies the last word with a prod to his back, and he makes the mistake of rolling over to glare at her. She is looking at him not in lust, not with that flirtatious glow in her eye that makes his chest feel perfectly fragile, just with a crinkled morning smile.

He throws off the covers and goes to get a pair of boxers.

His squad thinks it’s weird, but Logan has a bizarrely well-equipped kitchen. Most of the wives, especially the ones who have blogs, love him for its good lighting and shiny, photogenic appliances and the way he lets them use it for whatever experiments they want when he’s on cruise.

But today isn’t a morning for fancy, just for reusing the loaf of bread that has been growing stale on the table all night, abandoned after an aborted dinner. Honestly, they were lucky that the sauce-covered plates ended up soaking in the sink. Last night hadn’t been a six month reunion, but fifteen days of maneuvers at sea had apparently been enough.

He doesn’t hear Veronica come in as he is taking the first piece of French toast out of the pan, but he feels her in the angles of his shoulders, a pleasant tingling replaced by warmth as she presses against his back.
“What happened to breakfast in bed?” His voice is lower than he had intended, gravelly.

She says, “You know me. I’m a rebel.” She presses her lips against his spine, not kissing, just leaving them there as she takes a breath. He holds his, butterfly-gentle. He thinks he can feel the flutter of her eyelashes against his skin. The French toast remaining in the pan starts to smoke a little. Veronica goes to sit in the breakfast nook, crooking one leg up in the bench and resting her chin on it. The light falls behind her, glinting on blonde wood and light hair, and suddenly every promise that this house had made when he bought it is fulfilled.

It’s not that he and Carrie didn’t have good times here. Most of their time together that first year was spent in his house, before she finished her tour and bought her place and went back to her Neptune ghosts. And it’s not that he and Veronica don’t fight here, the tiles echoing with their shouts and their stubbornness.

But the fights they have now aren’t fights of fear, and when they make up it isn’t with desperate, clinging fingers. There’s something settled about them now, permanent, a sense of long journeys and coming home to roost.

He puts the food on the table. Veronica gets up, pulling out cutlery, absently checking that he has turned off the stove.

“Syrup?” he asks from beside the fridge. “Or are you too much of a rebel for that?”

“Even rebels appreciate the classics,” she says, on tiptoe by the cabinets to reach down plates. There is an ache in his chest, contentment with a border of lust, as he watches the way his t-shirt, an old one from just after Officer Training, falls around her.

She digs in quickly, syrup over everything and a piece already eaten before she looks up to tell him, “It’s good.” She sticks out her tongue to kitten-lick a drop of syrup from the side of her finger.

He has a sense of intense presentness in that moment, a recognition of the warmth of the sun coming in the window, the cinnamon of the French toast and the richness of coffee around him, the neighbor’s children splashing distantly in their pool next door. Veronica’s toes tucked absently against his calf. “Yeah, it’s good,” he says, and it is.

Title the opposite of a quote by Alfred Lord Tennyson. Images inspired by a conversation between (I think?) elschaaf and edmyguidinglight. Written for the September fic prompts from vmficrecs. (See, Suzanne? I listened to your advice!)

Cara and Nat Wolff for BuzzFeed

1. Most Likely to Be Found at Craft Services

Nat: John Green.
Cara: Me! Why John?
Nat: Because John was at craft services for the entire movie.

Cara: I was eating it out of the bowl. Don’t you remember?

2. Most Likely to Pull a Prank on Set

Nat: Cara.
Cara: Me.

3. Most Likely to Forget Their Lines

Cara: Nat! I’m kidding.

Nat: Wow, thanks Cara! Suuuure, I’ll take that one.

Cara: Only because he had the most lines because he was in every scene, so probably that was why. 

Nat: Why do you get all the nice ones and I get this?

Cara: Because I’m so great.

4. Most Likely to Nail a Scene in the First Take

Cara: Nat!
Nat: Yeah right! Cara.

5. Most Likely to Be Caught Napping In-between Scenes

Cara: Me!
Nat: Cara!
Cara: Yeah…

6. Most Likely to Be Texting on Their Phone

Nat: Cara.

Cara: Me.

7. Most Likely to Start Randomly Singing on Set

Cara: Us!

Nat: Yeah, the two of us.

8. Most Likely to Get Caught Taking a Selfie

Nat: Austin Abrams.

Cara: John! John!

Nat: Definitely Austin.

Cara: OK fine! Austin.

9. Most Likely to Post Inspirational Quotes on Instagram

Nat: Austin Abrams, I would say. 

Cara: Surely. 

10. Most Likely to Break Character During a Scene

Cara: Me.

Nat: Not really.

Cara: No, it was Halston. “Keep going, Halston!”

11. Most Likely to Win a Scavenger Hunt

Cara: Halston!

Nat: Halston, yes!

12. Most Likely to Get Back at Their Ex

Nat: Halston.

Cara: Yeah!

13. Most Like Their Character in Real Life

Cara: Halston.

Nat: Halston!

14. Who Would Be THAT Person to Get Lost on a Road Trip

Nat: Me! Cara and me, because we both can’t drive or do directions or anything. 

Cara: But no one gets lost, I run away. I don’t get lost!

Nat: But the ads for the movie say, “Get lost. Get found.”

Cara: Ohhhh.


Dolphin Agency (Part 2)

Part One

Emma: I know about the dolphin cookies! Make them now please!

Fukumoto: Dolphin…cookies? I don’t think I even know how to make them dolphin shaped. Although cooking dolphins, that’s quite odd yet interesting.

Emma: Cooking d-d-dolphins… NO!

Amari: Emma!— You made her cry and run away. How am I supposed to come up with something for what you told her!

Fukumoto: What’s going on? What did I do?

Emma: *laughs* Really, Tazaki-kun?

Tazaki: Yes, and you know Fukumoto always says that about my pigeons too.

Emma: That’s not good. We should do something about it.

Tazaki: We should do something to him and Sakuma-san for ruining the surprise, right?

Jitsui: Emma, leave them to me. I know the best way to hurt them for doing this.

Tazaki: See Emma, now everything’s fine. Right, Amari?

Emma (to Amari): Jitsui-kun will take care of them!

Amari: Yeah…It’s amazing how she forgets things easily.

Sakuma: So you’ve all turned into her dads.


Sakuma: Jitsui, stop staring at me! I didn’t do anything, don’t get me involved!

‘Do you believe in soulmates?’ He asked, his head resting in the soft grass as he stared at the lazy parade of clouds above him.
'Definitely.’ She answered, plucking apart what must have been her twentieth dandelion
'What makes you so sure?’ He asked as she sat up and criss crossed her legs so she was sitting parallel to his laid out body.
'You know that inexplicable strain that lives somewhere between your heart and your gut?’ He propped himself up on his elbows and met her eyes, wide with a passion he hoped he never got used to.
'Yeah, I know what you mean’ He finally answered.
'Well, eventually you lock eyes with someone for the very first time and it’s as if you already know what it feels like to hold their hand’ She reached out her hands and slowly shook her head, cascades of golden hair gently moving themselves along her shoulders, 'and all of the sudden your palms start itching, as if they know they belong intertwined in the ones in front of yours.’ Her hands moved towards each other, criss-crossing into one another, as if she was getting ready to pray. 'Oh and the strain, it just keeps growing. That endless powerful pull has maneuvered it’s way down your arm and into your itching fingertips, reaching for a hand of someone you’ve barely said hello to.’
'Sounds like a fairytale ’ He said, sitting himself up completely.
'Yeah’ she sighed with a slight smile, unwinding her hands and reaching for her twenty-first dandelion 'I guess it does. But that moment only happens once, so no matter how or when, whether it be Disneyland or checking out at a gas station, a moment like that will never be anything less than magical.’
—  Angelica Rose || Wishful Thinking

chefcrowebar-deactivated2017022  asked:

What are some bands in the Deafheaven-esce style of music? I'm new to that genre and want to expand my listening. New or old

I asked Kerry from Deafheaven to answer this for us, this is what he had to say,

“The main bands I was really into were early Alcest, bergtatt era ulver, burzum, lantlos, coldworld (Germany), petrychor, Skagos, panopticon, vit, weakling (obv), valfunde, amesouers three song ep, nyktalgia, Westering, make a change kill yourself, leviathan, lake of blood, wigrid, bosse-de-nage, etc. Some of those bands sound more in the same vein as us than others, but I enjoy all of them and all at one point had some sort of influence on this band.”

On the non metal side of things, Slowdive, My Bloody Valentine? Since I am quoting you, don’t want to misrepresent your shit

“Yeah, those bands definitely, but not just the big three of shoegaze. Again, these bands don’t always sound like us, but they’ve influenced is heavily, and that includes foo fighters, cranberries, the smiths, the cure, weekend, oasis, blur, mazzie star, jesu, first three U2 records, rites of spring, fugazi, morrissey, sisters of mercy, new order…it all comes down to interesting rock bands who’s use of chord structures and dynamics I find to be interesting and inspiring.”