yet another edit of his face

anonymous asked:

Imagine Yurio waltzing into Victor's apartment in St. Petersburg because he can and saying "WHAT'S UP FU-" and Victor goes SHHHHH and points to the couch where Yuuri is sleeping, curled up with Maccachin.

“WHAT’S UP FU–”

There’s a hand clamped over his mouth.

His eyes go wide and he glares at Victor, who has a finger pressed firmly to his own lips, his expression grave. Then, slowly, he lowers his hand from Yurio’s mouth, points towards the couch, where Yuuri is sleeping with Makkachin snug against his side. His hair is messy, lips parted, and he shifts slightly in his sleep, burying his nose in the dog’s fur.

Yurio blinks at Victor, asking him if he’s seriously going to ask him to stay silent so that Yuuri can sleep at two in the afternoon, but then he sees Victor take his phone out of his pocket and snap a photo. “You’re really taking photos of him? Doesn’t this happen, like, every day?”

Instantly, the hand is back on his mouth. “Shhh,” he urges, his voice barely a whisper. “You’ll wake him.”

“if I haven’t woken him yet, he’s not going to wake up,” Yurio points out, his voice muffled by Victor’s palm. He nips at it and Victor pulls his hand back, yelping.

“He’s so peaceful,” he says dreamily, then, as though it’s an afterthought, takes another photo of him.

Yurio rolls his shoulders back. “Let’s draw a mustache on his face.”

Victor thinks for a second. “No, we’ll draw hearts on his face. I don’t want him to have a mustache.”

“Hearts? No, ew. We’ll draw glasses on him.”

“Deal.”

Skin to Skin

Author’s Note: I’m really slow at cranking out stories. Honestly, I’ve been writing a lot but then I edit each one like 20 times. Another Ignis fic (surprise, surprise). Blind!Ignis X fem!reader. Fluffy, but slightly NSFW. 1830 words. 

You woke one morning back to back with your boyfriend, Ignis Scientia. He was on his side, arms around his pillow whereas you were curled into a ball. Blinking back sleep, you stretched out and rolled over to face him. He hadn’t stirred yet. He normally rose before you did, but he sometimes allowed himself to sleep in a bit on his days off. You slid one arm around him, holding onto his middle, and cuddled up close, pressing your nose into the center of his back. To call yourself the big spoon seemed silly, seeing as how he was so long and you definitely weren’t; you felt more like his little backpack.

Before Ignis lost his sight, he almost always wanted to be the one to hold you. Soon after finding himself in his vulnerable state, however, he found comfort in your arms more often than not. These days, the two of you were pretty equal when it came to being the big spoon. It didn’t make any difference to you; all that mattered was being close to him. Your favorite way to cuddle was skin to skin. There was something about that electric current you swore you felt when the two of you touched that you were addicted to. The two of you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces, but sometimes even that didn’t seem like enough. You wanted to melt into him and never let go.

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Cut & Run Meme ▬ Favourite Moments [02/05].

“Hey, give me my gun, would you?” Zane asked as he shifted, only to wince as the skin pulled.

“Why, you planning on shooting me in the ass when I turn around?”

Ty asked sarcastically as he reached for the holster.

“Tempting, but you’d probably get off on it,” Zane said, holding out his hand.

“Maybe so,” Ty drawled again, grinning widely as he placed the gun in Zane’s hand.

Zane’s palm covered the gun, and his fingers curled firmly around Ty’s hand. His eyes had gone serious when he looked up at the other agent.

“Why did you help me?”

Ty looked down at their hands and then up at Zane with open confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked.

That certainly wasn’t the answer Zane expected. He figured he’d get yet another smartass remark. His face softened slightly, and he nodded slowly, letting go of Ty’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” Ty responded with a smirk. “Just don’t get your prissy ass hurt again.”

“Better watch it, Grady, I might get to thinking you’re taking a liking to my prissy ass,” Zane said, sliding the gun under the pillow.

“I’m sure I’d like parts of it,” Ty shot back as he headed for the door.

“Be right back.”

13. the faces of you

Genre: Spy!AU

Content: Kim Taehyung. For someone who lived alone, your toilet seat was strangely warm.

Word Count: 5, 143

(warning: sexual content)


On a regular day, he was tall, irritatingly calculated, with darkly handsome (borderline sinister) features: a constantly cocked brow, onyx roots fading into a stiff, gingerbread gold pompadour, and lips so plump they could lure you in with one deadly smirk.

But today was not a regular day, and Kim Taehyung did not know what to do.

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Give Up For The Night

“Right. Yup. Thanks.” Joe huffs into the phone, ending the phone call a moment later.

I glance up from my computer as he lets out a frustrated groan.

“Bad phone call?”

“Yes.” He runs a tired hand across his face before walking over to the couch where he falls onto it on his back. “I thought Sugg Life was supposed to be fun, and exciting.”

“It is.”

“Not really.”

“No luck with the stock problem then?” I ask, looking back down at my computer as I continue to edit.

“Not at all. I hate this. I feel like we’re letting everyone down because there was a glitch!”

“It’ll work out, Joe. Don’t worry.” I reassure him. “Give it some time. The team is working on it.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs, and the room falls into a comfortable silence, only broken by the occasional clicking from me dragging clips over.

I had been working on this video for the better part of an hour, and was getting worried because it was meant to be uploaded pretty quick, and time was running out.

My plan was to have it edited last night, but then other work had popped up and it was nearing one in the morning by time that was all done. I knew it would be too much to edit it last night, so I had put it off for today. Except then Joe and I had gone into the office to deal with both Sugg Life merchandise and for an impromptu meeting for myself.

Since we got home, Joe had been on and off the phone, while I had been doing my best to finish editing.

I was getting close, I just had to finish another section. And that was when the program I was using froze.


I wait a minute, hoping the spinning wheel of death will disappear and I’ll be able to continue, glancing up at the time quickly as I waited.

Then I blink, and everything is gone.

“No.” I breathe, my eyes growing wide.

“Hm?” Joe tilts his head back, looking at me.

“No. No. No.” I mutter, ignoring him as I click on a few keys. The program is running, but my video, the one that I was almost done editing for my channel is gone.

“Y/N?” Joe ask again, and I finally glanced over at him.

“It’s gone.”

“What’s gone?”

“My video. It’s just…gone.” My gaze lands back on the computer screen, and I can feel the tears fill my eyes.

“Shit.” I can hear him push himself up into a sitting position, taking the computer from me gently. “Let me see if I can get it.”

“I can’t believe it. I was so close. And now I’m going to be late uploading, that’s if my clips aren’t corrupted. Or gone. And I have to redo everything. Oh gods. I don’t have time to do that. I was supposed to be answering emails, and calling back that lady to make a meeting. And I have yet to plan another video.”


“Hey, hey.” Suddenly Joe’s arms are around me, and I lean into his embrace, my body still tense. “Relax, love. It’ll work out. Right?”

“What am I going to do?” I mumble, burying my face into his shoulder as he pulls my legs over his lap, his fingers running up and down my arm.

“I think,” Joe replies, settling back against the couch. “That we just give up for the night. No more Sugg Life stuff. No more editing. No phone calls. Emails. Nothing. Just the two of us. And some good.”

“And wine?”

“And wine.” He laughs softly.

“But my video…” I glance over at my computer, which is sitting on the couch beside us.

“I’m sure I can retrieve it, Y/N. But just let your viewers know you won’t be getting it up tonight. We both need to just take a step back and breathe.”

“Yeah. I think you’re right.” I sigh, relaxing into him.

“I do have those moments one in a while.” He jokes, and I can’t help but giggle.

Within minutes, we are both breathless from laughter, all the tension and stress leaving us until we slumped into the couch and each other.

“There,” Joe says, kissing the top of my head. “Much better.”

“Much better.” I echo in agreement.

DeanCas Coda to 11x06: Our Little World.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Castiel looks back at the screen, re-settling on his chair. His fingers itch and he’s beginning to sweat, but he keeps his eyes front, praying to get lost in the frivolity he’s currently indulging in. He can’t see those things if he’s numbly invested and immersed in—

“Aw man, not this again.” Like he owns the space, Dean swaggers into the room and frowns at the screen, shaking his head. “Cas, c’mon, man, we’ve talked about this: Game of Thrones! Breaking Bad! What happened to The Wire?”

Cas shrugs, refusing to meet green eyes. “I decided to take a break.”

“A break?” Dean asks, incredulous. “So you could binge this crap?”

“If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

A frown. “No,” Dean replies stubbornly. He throws himself onto Castiel’s bed, making himself at home and squinting at the TV. It’s silent for a blessed few moments before the hunter is speaking again: “So, uh, what’s with the cold shoulder?”

At this, Cas does turn, but Dean is staring resolutely at the television. Fine. “How long have we known each other, Dean?” He knows he sounds testy, but Castiel honestly can’t help it—Dean Winchester can be so incredibly frustrating.

Green eyes meet blue, the former’s brows raising in confusion. “Uh… ‘bout eight years. Why?”

“Eight years,” Cas repeats. His fingers dig into the wooden arms of his chair. “In all that time, do you not think I’ve learned to tell if you’re lying?”

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Heartbreak Made Me A Killer

Pairing: Y/N/Vampire!Michael

Rating: PG-All (Ish?? Blood appears and typical vamp shit)

Request: No

Words: 6.200+

Summary: Your best friend Luke drags you along to yet another frat party in the deepest hope of trying to put a smile on your face. But it’s difficult to enjoy when your ex boyfriend of a vampire tries to make your life miserable after breaking his black heart into pieces. 

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Ship: Delitoonz (H20 Delirious/Cartoonz)

Prompt: Imagine your OTP is driving home from a dinner date. Person A is driving, while Person B is jamming out to the radio. A laughs to themselves, B notices and stops because they feel embarrassed. They turn off the radio and act normal. A says they just found it cute and adorable. Once A parks the car in the garage, B quickly moves over to straddle A before A can get out of the car. B says, “I’m not cute.”

(also lowkey based off this video)

word count: 2,566

Jonathan can’t remember how many dates it’s been now. He’d like to say that it’s over a hundred, maybe even more than that. But a part of him feels bad that he hasn’t been keeping track. But on the other hand, the fact that he can’t remember how many its been is saying that they’ve been on so many together. And each one of them just as successful as the last, and means that he’s been in a healthy relationship, right? He likes to think so. And that was just good enough for him.

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when time escapes - Ray x Reader

As much as i love Joel x reader fics, i really did enjoy writing something a little different! Thank you to the lovely Anon who just wanted something Ray x reader related, you’re the best. 

SUMMARY: You can’t help it, Ray just seems to catch your eye and plague your mind; whether you like it or not. His smile infectious, laughter booming. There was just something about him that made the blush in your cheeks rise and that eradicated any worries that you held. 

WC: 1087

You tell yourself that you have the willpower to divert your eyes from him, the strength to keep your mind from wandering into that damn office filled with warmth and laughter and him, but in all honestly, you simply aren’t able to control yourself.

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Remembering & Celebrating Daniel Kyre

Ever since the tragedy that was Daniel Lee Kyre’s death and the disbanding of the beloved YouTube channel Cyndago, many people were shocked, saddened, heartbroken.

And yet, many people came together and supported each other. There were kind words, small events, beautiful edits, gifs, and fan art. Many were quick to respect the privacy and mourning of Mark Fischbach, Ryan Magee, Matt Watson, and Daniel’s friends and family, and a large community of people placed sweet candles, flowers, and words into an online obituary.

This September will mark one year since this brilliant, talented man’s passing.

I want us to come together and remember Daniel Kyre. Remember the life he lived, and what he had done through Cyndago.

This will start on Friday, September 16th, the day Daniel had been found, and conclude on Saturday, September 24th.

Throughout the week, I would like as many people as possible to come share their love and support, under the Markiplier, Cyndago, and Daniel Kyre tags. I would like people to create and present their fan art, maybe bring back old ones (PLEASE give credit if they’re not yours, or better yet reblog old posts). I want us to make edits, videos, gifs, even songs, as music was one of Daniel’s passions. I want to see tribute videos brought back.

Aside from that, I want our communities to come together and celebrate his life and legacy. Spread kind words, support those who may be facing the struggles of depression and suicidal thoughts, share good places that help with these, and give our thoughts about Daniel and Cyndago. Another thing I would like to bring back is the ‘Colors For Daniel’, which will go on for five days (most likely Monday Sep. 19th through Friday Sep. 23rd). Something as simple as wearing colors would mean so much.

Whatever it is, I want us all to be there for each other, remembering this man, the impact and influence he had, and spreading awareness of depression and suicide. Anyone taking their own lives creates such a perfect, yet devastating storm.

Please, I would like to ask of you all to spread the word. A simple like and/or reblog will do so much. Let me know what you would like to do, so I can notify others when the date nears.

So, starting on September 16th (no specific time zone), let’s come together, and celebrate the life and legacy of Daniel Lee Kyre and Cyndago.

Thank you.

In one of the deleted scenes planned for early in the movie, John Boyega’s FN-2187 hasn’t yet fled from the First Order, but he’s already a lost person. This shot is from before the troopers round up the villagers but after his mask is marked with the blood of a fallen fellow soldier. The conscience-stricken Finn comes face-to-face with a woman in the shadows of a small building. He raises his weapon … and makes a fateful decision.

Another deleted scene will take place after John Boyega’s Finn is injured in this lightsaber duel against Kylo Ren. It features Daisy Ridley’s Rey back at the Resistance base, watching over her critically wounded friend as she gets an update on his condition from Dr. Kalonia.

- Finn in the deleted scenes of Star Wars: The Force Awakens

The Yellow Rose

A Mavin Valentine’s Day blurb I wrote in a span of appx. 3 hours.

Words: 1,462

Rating: M for language

Viewpoint: 3rd person

(A/N: Sorry if it isn’t great. Credit)

~~~~~

It was hot in the office.

Being that it was in the negatives outside, they couldn’t open the windows all the way for they’d be risking hypothermia. But if they kept them closed any longer, Michael thought he might have a stroke. 

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You’re My Best Friend

Prompt: ((thank you for sending yours in!))

Genre: angst, fluff, smut ((wow the whole package go kyra))

Warnings: grinding, swearing, self hate, homophobic slurs, bullying

Word count: 1818 ((god damn it kyra this is a simple prompt why))

A/N: okay this was supposed to be really fluffy and smutty but then i haven’t written angst and i threw this thing up. also the italics are time flashbacks with the exception of the end. hope you like :)

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Soap Suds

Dean fluff requested by soulofawinchester! “Could you possibly do an imagine where the reader and Dean work on the Impala together, washing her, and end up getting in a huge water/soap fight that ends with them finally kissing? They’ve been crushing on each other for months, and always snap at each other and make jokes at the other’s expense out of embarrassment or nervousness. The reader has trouble expressing her feelings a lot, but their water fight helps that along. Hope that’s specific! :) Thank you, your writing is wonderous!” Look they’re so nice. This imagine has been edited for reposting to add details. Hope you like it!

Your attention was torn from a newspaper article celebrating the life of yet another nameless, faceless woman from the suburbs by the sharped sound of Dean’s knuckles rapping on your open bedroom door, your eyes lifting from the forced smile of an exposure-dappled yearbook picture to the tentative face of the eldest Winchester, his body straightening from his hunched, cautious stance as he strolled over your threshold to greet you. His hands dove into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders raised in minor discomfort, this emotion most likely derived from having disturbed your work, his usual weightless confidence deserting him as he meandered in front of your bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows, your mind racing against every urge to blush a violent crimson (as you were so prone to doing in his presence) or sweat or stare too long into those emerald eyes, ignoring the quickening pulse as it beat tribal drums into your ears. And Lord, was that chieftain goin’ for it. Dean exhaled, smiling down at you from his staggering height, and you had the delight of watching those gemstone eyes focus on your research, brow furrowing in concentration as he read over your notes decorating the margin, intellectual chicken scratch seeming to impress him, his forehead smoothing as he grinned.

“Hey, I was thinking I might rescue you,” he mumbled. Out of instinct, you replied with a cutting comment, stating that you were no damsel, that he’d seenyou decapitate a nest of vamps, and that you were the last woman in need of rescue, all while he rolled his eyes. A delectable sight, you had to admit. ”Cool it, Little Miss Cutthroat. We can head out and wash Baby. You know, unless you’d rather stay in here and, uh…” he removed a hand from his pocket, sliding his palm over his neck and into his hair, fingers scratching through the strands as he fought for his wording, your heartbeat running rampant. “read about… dead… chicks.” He winced, clearly unimpressed with himself, driving his hand back into a denim cave, his eyes locking with yours. You grinned, pushing yourself into a sitting position, your hands melting into the duvet as you forced yourself away from the comfort of your mattress and the boredom of pointless research over women you’d never find alive anyway, shuffling towards the door, your cheeks blazing against your will as Dean motioned for you to exit first. He followed you outside of the strangely spacious off-the-highway condominiums, his feet padding into the drying autumn grass behind you, the sound of crumbling blades crunching in your wake as you strolled towards the glimmering classic car. You squinted at the obsidian exterior, feeling the skin on your forehead crumple in confusion as you absorbed the grime-less state of the vehicle, Dean passing beside you, his arm catching your shoulder in his stride, a playful bump on his way towards the side of the maintenance building, his form squatting as he twisted a latch and unraveled an impressive length of hose from its mount on the steel siding. He trailed the cord through the yellowing grass, nodding his head in the direction of the trunk. “I’ve got some soap and old sponges in the back there, beneath the crucifix. There should be some rags wrapped around the handles of the… the machetes,” he instructed, his finger digging about through the air as he searched though the storage in his brain before speaking the locations of the items in question. He reached into his back pocket, lobbing you his keyring, metal shards tinkling as they fell through the open air, landing in your palm with an audible thud, your legs carrying you to the back of his Baby. Opening the trunk, you found every article as he described them, hauling a bottle of soap in one hand, the frayed rags and withered sponges in your other. The keyring was safely nestled in your own back pocket, Dean holding his hand high for the bottle of soap as soon as the trunk slammed shut.

He had half the contents of the bottle emptied all over the roof of his car, the other half residing in a rusted pail he scavenged from the condo staff’s janitor closet, the soap dribbling from the sides of the automobile, amber droplets harvesting sunlight, recycling the rays to produce the citrus-scented sparkle you’d known to love in almost all generic cleaning products. You handed him a shriveled sponge, his fingers ghosting over yours as you exchanged products, his eyes flickering to yours briefly before plunging the material into the suds and water, the hose creating a puddle of lukewarm liquid about your feet, Dean stepping out of the way as you followed suit, your hold on the sponge expanding as it absorbed the water, the wet sound of Dean slapping his own cleaning device onto the windshield accompanied by a spray of fluffy soap onto the back of your thighs. As you turned, Dean shook his sponge, attempting to rid it of excess soap, a glob of foamy froth adhering itself to your shin. Dean turned at your gasp, his eyes dropping to the damage he had unintentionally done. Your jaw, unhinged, slammed shut, your face resuming the lobster hue Dean was far too comfortable with as you reached to swipe the suds from your legs. As soon as your hand made contact with your skin, his sponge painted a strip of foam down your arm, ending at your wrist.

“You’ve got a bit…” he chuckled, biting him lower lip to keep from chuckling, his shoulder shaking with his silent laughter. You pursed your lips, clenching your fist around your sponge as your arm swung through the air, sending a stream of bubbles onto Dean’s chest, the hunter scoffing in surprise, his hands diving for your wrists, face scrunched up in giddy aggression, your left hand ducking out of his hold as he squeezed his sponge over your head, your hand scrambling for the hose. The soap suds leaked over your brow as you aimed the hose at Dean’s face, the hunter spluttering while you laughed, the acidic taste of chemical cleaner dancing over your tastebuds while the two of you grappled for power, Dean’s hold slipping on you, dragging the both of you to the ground as he toppled, his hand snagging the bucket on his way down. You found yourself in a puddle of suds and mud, the carnage of your battle coating your legs and splattering your arms up to your elbows, your abdomen knotted as your body coiled around another bout of giggles, Dean wiping at his eye with the purest portion of his soapy finger. Your arm was pinned between the bend of his elbow and his torso, his face dangerously close to yours. You settled your laughter, your breathing hiking as his own chortles dimmed to silence. He inched closer to you, the hand unoccupied with holding his body off of the ground (as well as locking your own supporting arm in place) reached for your cheek, smoothing a stripe of fizzing foam along your cheekbone, the wind battling to cool your skin where the water had touched it, fighting against the heat now rising in your cheeks. Dean’s hand slid behind your neck, pulling your face to his, his eyelashes fluttering once before sealing his eyelids shut, his lips ducking to yours the last sight you captured before your own eyes flickered shut, lips awaiting the touch of his. You forgot every sensation outside of his lips; the suds vanished along your legs, the chill in the air no longer bit at the trails of water… your world was engulfed by Dean’s electric embrace. His mouth moved gently against yours, his lips tugging on yours, securing you to his body, his hand tangling into your hair. The tribal drums had transformed into the deafening tolls of wartime gongs, your pulse sporadic and excitable as Dean’s lips moved against yours, his head tilting into the crook of your neck, his lips ducking to the sliver of skin beneath your jaw, your hands moving to his chest. He moved away from your skin, his eyes glimmering like faceted jewels, his lips reddening from the contact, pulling into a smile regardless. “Glad to see you’re game,” he chuckled, your eyes rolling in their sockets at his cheapening remark, your cheeks dragging the corners of your mouth upwards on their own accord as you stood from your position on the ground, your head reeling. Dean joined you, his hands wrapping around your waist before your could outrun his reach, spinning you into his chest before backing you into the hood of the Impala, his cheeks rosy, a chilling dampness seeping through the back of your shirt.

“You never asked if I was game,” you countered, “Don’t act so surprised. I’ve been nothing but sheep eyes at you for months.” He nodded his head to the side, making a sound of agreement, your hand slapping against his chest. He laughed, leaning over you, your spine flush against the hood of his precious Baby, Dean’s lips covering yours with the same tenderness, though this time his kiss was spiked with passion, his tongue meeting yours. With each separation, he spoke.

“So,” he breathed, latching onto the hollow between your collarbones, “I guess,” he whispered, moving skyward along the center of your neck, “this means,” his lips found the corner of yours, your hands tangling in his hair, wrenching his mouth to meet yours,  "we’re a thing.“ he concluded, mumbling against your lips before deepening his intensity, your mind fogging as you laughed against him, suds dripping down your legs to free-fall to the dampened earth below.

About Stiles' Bisexuality

Recently there was a discussion revolving around the video with the scene where Stiles is revealed to be bisexual which claims to be a dircetor’s cut. Now people were wondering if this video was legit or not. I personally have no faith in the writer to give me straight answers, especially on such a topic, so I decided to analyze the video and confront it with the original scene (which will be OS from now on).

Before reading this keep in mind that usually there are several scenes being fimed and then with editing some make it in the episode, some don’t, some are cut up and some are recycled (i.e. the scene in which Scott jumps over the cliff after coyote!Malia is basically a copy/paste of the scene in which he jumps over the cliff in 2x01 when he goes to Allison. Yeah, good job there, guys).

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Congratulations for 10M+ subs, Jack!
I’m late with yet another drawing, I’m sorry. I’ve been working on so many drawings lately like those two dumb drawn gifs of Jack I posted earlier and I didn’t have time to finish this one. The most difficult parts of this drawing were his face, all the 62 (?) layers I had to edit more than once, and adding text to this… it was tiresome, but I kinda like how it turned out (I really hope anyone who sees this does too) and I learned some new things as well, which is great. Since @therealjacksepticeye likes space too, I thought something like this would be nice. It’s quite simple but I really hope it’s good enough… Thank you so much for all the smiles and happiness, Jack!!!