#soft hint of

[aph-america]

Important Powerpoint PLEASE READ!!!

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you understand and now will join the army of spreading the bbygurl Ivan Braginsky agenda

[novaneondream]

Anyways what kind of music do you think Eri listens to

[artificial-angels]

I thought the angel devil on each of his shoulders was a silly concept

[sassypossum]

These Days

Logan Howlett x Reader ~ Fluff

It's the slow days that have come to mean the most to Logan.

The lazy Sunday afternoons of slow dancing around the kitchen, of bickering over the dishes. Of chuckling deeply as you squeal in protest as he tickles your sides with soapy hands.

The days where there's nothing more to do than wake to the sound of a heavy downpour outside, feel your warmth next to him as your brows scrunch and you snuggle further into him grumpily.

The easy days where Laura is out in the yard playing on her swing set while you and Logan bicker playfully over the hanging of a picture.

‘Just pound the nail into the wall, Logan.’ You'd huffed in exasperation as he wavered in honor of painstaking accuracy.

‘I'll pound you into a wall.’ He'd grumbled, eyes flicking to your flustered expression before he'd smirked and easily lodged the nail into the wall.

The days when he comes home after a ‘rough’ day of dealing with your brother to the sounds of you and Laura giggling in the kitchen. Of being pulled hurriedly to the table before he can even take off his shoes by an insistent Laura, only to be presented with her latest ‘creation’.

Of course he'd eat whatever it was with a tight smile, awkwardly praising her attempts, but this time his eyes light up.

Donuts.

His eyes raise to meet yours over his glasses and you give him a warm smile. Ever since you'd gotten together, he'd grown spoiled [and to his chagrin,heavier] off of your homemade donuts. Now, it seemed, you were passing the torch on to Laura.

There was no socially awkward attempt at praise this day. The day he bites into the warm offering, eyes closing as the buttery, flakey taste hits his tongue, as an involuntary groan eases its way from his throat.

The day your barn cat, Barnaby, made himself at home in your kitchen. Earning cuddles from you and Laura, and glares from Logan.

Days of falling leaves, fighting for the covers, walks in the woods. Hefting Laura onto his shoulders with a grunt, letting you ease the aches and pains late into the night.

This day, these days, are what Logan is living for.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🩵

[erwinsvow]

“yeah, you want that one?” rafe asks you, while you browse through the dresses on the rack. the one you’ve picked out to show him is yellow gingham, with skinny straps and a bow on the neckline. you hold the dress to your chest, looking down to see where it’ll end on you. “i’ll get it for you.”

“hm…” you consider the idea for a moment, holding the dress out again to get a better look. “i don’t know. it’s pretty short.”

“since when is that a bad thing?” rafe moves his arm against the rack, manhandling the hanger from your hand and holding it against you himself. “think it’s perfect.” you laugh at your boyfriend’s antics.

“there has to be a reason to wear it, rafe. i don’t have any right now.”

“we’ll go to dinner. there’s your reason.”

“i have other dresses,” you decide finally, putting it back between the others.

“c’mon, just let me get it for you.” he follows you while you walk away and wander towards the jewelry section of the store. you look down at sparkling silver and shimmery gold, while rafe joins you and leans against the glass counter. “you want jewelry instead? that’s fine.”

“no, i’m just looking,” you insist again. “it’s called window shopping. ever heard of it? 

there’s pretty things in the case, a silver bracelet with little blue stones that particularly catches your eye since blue is your new favorite color, but you don’t really want anything, and you really don’t want rafe to buy it for you.

“no. just pick somethin’ out. my treat.” you glance up at rafe.

“for what? i haven’t done anything.” he laughs to himself, not necessarily at you, more because of you.

“i don’t need a reason.” he makes you flush, so you walk away again, this time to the shoes. you hold a pair of brown sandals in your hand, flipping them over to see the size.

“you already treated me, remember? you paid for lunch.” rafe grabs the shoes out of your hands too.

“that’s a meal, not a treat. want these?” he looks down at you, not even sparing a glance to the price tag. “c’mon.” you grab his wrist as fast as you can.

“no! no. i have some just like these. it’ll be a waste, i’ll never wear them.”

“are you bein’ serious or are you just sayin’ that?” damn it. you are just saying it, since you don’t want rafe spending his money on you. you lie to cover your tracks.

“serious. i’d never lie to you.”

you wrestle the shoes out of his hand, settling them back on the shelf. 

“fine. c’mon, we can go somewhere else.” you finally let him buy you an ice cream cone just so he’ll stop offering.

you try to explain to rafe that the reason you want to walk around is to look around and spend time with him, not to really buy things, but he’s hard to convince. 

rafe thinks you need to stop being so worried about what everyone will think. you’re still bad at it, trying to ignore that part of you that murmurs in your ear that people will judge you for all these nice, new things rafe wants to buy you. you think people will say you’re dating him for the money, but worse than that, you think people will say bad things about rafe, about his choice in dating you, if you ever make him buy you more than dinner or ice cream.

your hesitancy gets the best of you, and even though you’ve always had some nice things, being pampered by rafe feels inherently wrong, like you should at least make sure he knows he doesn’t need to buy you anything. lost in your own thoughts, you’ve rejected his offers countless times, and the only new, expensive thing he’s gotten you since you started dating is the R necklace you wear everyday. 

you think you’re good at hiding it, but you’re not. rafe sees right through you, and he knows what he’s going to do about it. 

later that week, rafe drops you off at home in the morning after you slept over. you still think he hates driving in the cut—as much as he denies it—but he refuses to let you bike back and forth to tannyhill. 

“i’ll pick you up for dinner.” he says, leaning across you to open the passenger side door. you flush like you always do, partly because he’s not asking, he’s telling.

you nod, and then wave bye from the window. he waits until you get inside to drive away, which makes you want to go scream into your pillow. you head into your room to do just that, but you’re greeted instead by bags and boxes littered across your bed.

you know what they are, even before you walk over on your wobbly knees and set aside the tissue paper, looking down with watery eyes all the things you had been admiring in the store the other day with rafe. you sit down next to them—the yellow dress, the pretty sandals, the glittery bracelet—and dial rafe’s number on your phone. you exhale shaky breaths while the line rings, but can’t hold back tears any longer when he answers.

“you didn’t have to do this,” you say quietly into the phone, biting your cheek. you try to blink away the new tears.

“do what?” you laugh, so rafe laughs too. 

“i…i feel bad when you buy me things.”

“i know. y’should stop that.”

“or you can stop first.”

“i’m never gonna stop.” you suck in a breath, heart thudding and feeling deliriously in love. “gonna come get you later. wear the new stuff, okay?”

“okay. i will.”

“that’s my girl.” you fall back and let your head hit the pillow.

[doctorho]

viktor doesn't... pay that much attention to appearances, his or anyone else's. not when it doesn't matter. sure, there's the 'wearing what they see as respectable clothes so they take you seriously' and the 'not going to the dinner table covered in oil stains', but beyond that? he doesn't really care, to be honest.

yes, he's aware that some people put a lot more thought into the way they look, and into what other people think about the way they look. he knows that's a thing. it just happens to be a thing he chooses not to personally get invonved in.

well, it had been.

he honestly hadn't even thought about it much, before. it had just been one of those things that other people did, one of those things he had never really understood. you know, one of those things that made him feel like maybe the rest of the world had had some secret meeting without him where they decided that yes, these are the rules, and no, we won't explain them, you just have to know.

one of those things.

and he had been fine not thinking about it! truly, he had been blissfully unaware of what the current beauty standards were and which traits were seen as good or bad on which year -

and then he'd met you, by some miracle. you know, viktor doesn't meet that many new people, these days, so it does genuinely feel like a miracle when you just... stumble into his life one day. and without even thinking about it, automatically, viktor's brain files you away as beautiful, and he treats that as a passing fact, the same way he treats the color of your eyes. it's just a categorizing trait; this person just is beautiful.

and then, later, when he learns that apparently not everyone thinks that, his brain disagrees, severly. like - are they blind? is this a joke? it's a bad joke, if so, and then he's mad for you.

because he remembers that, ah, right. some people are weird about appearances. they have their menial rules about it that change by the decade.

he's still mad for you, but mentally he's ended that argument with well they're all idiots. because clearly you are an awesome, incredible, beautiful human being and this shouldn't be an argument in the first place.

he tells you this, and then his heart breaks a little when you seem so used to hearing the opposite. when you seem to have accepted what those idiots were saying because you'd just...heard it so often.

when you seem to not-quite-believe that he could really see you as beautiful. that he could really, actually want you. like that.

and it's - it drives him up the wall that this is even a thing. that the negative things you've heard outweigh the positive ones, and apparently by a landslide. that he can't make you see yourself the way he sees you.

because, truly, he thinks you're so beautiful. like, are you kidding? viktor's been skin and bone his whole life, and you're so...soft. he knows it way before he ever touches you; he can see it, and he has a well enough functioning imagination. and he's been thinking about it a lot, lately. what you'd feel like under his fingers. against his body. he has theories about this.

he can tell you're soft, and warm, and sometimes when the sunlight hits you he genuinely thinks you look like you could be straight out of one of those expensive oil paintings people paid a lot of money to see just a glimpse of.

and - yes, okay, maybe some of this was just his hormones talking, but come on. he couldn't not want to touch you. that was just one of those facts of life - the sun rose every morning, and whenever viktor saw you, he had the urge to touch you. to be close to you. to prove to you how much he adored you.

and then when you let him? that - that felt like a miracle. truly and honestly. because - viktor had never considered himself to be especially lucky, just, like, in life in general, but this?

he had to have won some sort of cosmic lottery. to first be lucky enough to meet you and then to be able to do this. to get so close. to touch you like this, to see you like this. it is nothing short of a privilege and he takes it, happily and greedily. and he makes it his personal mission to let you know exactly what he thought about you, and exactly how little you should care about anyone else's opinion. except your own, of course, but only on those days your mind was being kind to you.

so he makes sure you know that he absolutely worships you. okay? you are his personal deity, and he is devoted. he lets you know, any way he knows how, and any opportunity he gets. given half a chance, he will be praising you, telling how gorgeous you are and how lucky he is to have you. telling you how good you look, how good you feel, how good you make him feel. he isn't shy - he tells you, in enough detail to make your cheeks heat up.

and when you're alone, and you have all the time in the world? he shows you, and he doesn't hold back. and then he reminds you, again and again and again.

and you know viktor isn't a liar. he doesn't care about things like this enough to lie about them. so when he tells you that he loves the way you look, the way you feel, the way you are, you believe him.

[justaz]

married merthur lounging in bed, gently caressing the other as sunlight streams through the windows and across the bed, warming them even more. though its a slow morning, the weight of their duties is slowly growing heavier and heavier as the time for them to get up approaches. merlin remembering arthur’s dream of sometimes wanting to run away and live on a farm where no one knew who he was. as grateful as he is for the happy ending he’s been blessed with, he can’t help but also wish to get away with arthur and escape their responsibilities.

his magic thrums under his skin and his hands still. it takes arthur a moment to call him out on it. merlin asks if he still wants to run away together. arthur shifts to look him in the eye and is like “sometimes, i suppose. why?”

merlin drags his finger down arthur’s side and lets his magic dip beneath his king’s skin, “why don’t we go?”

arthur shivers as he feels the warm, buzzing magic settle over his ribs and is like “we have a kingdom to run. can’t exactly just leave it all behind.” and merlin grins and brings his hand to hold arthur’s, lacing their fingers together.

“who says we leave it all behind? why not a…a vacation?” arthur raises an eyebrow and echoes his suggestion. merlin nods.

“and what if something happens while we’re gone? an attack or a sickness or…”

“i have magic, arthur. if i can use it to get us away then i can use it to bring us back,” he reminds his husband, “morgana and gaius can reach us with communication spells if there’s truly something wrong. we can leave gwen and morgana in charge. we can get away for a bit. like a honeymoon.”

“we’ve been married for a couple years now. can we even still have a honeymoon?”

“i didn’t get a honeymoon before, i should get one now.” arthur concedes to his point and considers his idea. merlin pushes further, “with my magic, we could go anywhere in the world. wherever you want. greece, egypt, china…” merlin smiles and presses a kiss to arthur’s pouting lips, “anywhere, everywhere.”

arthur sighs out of his nose as a smile grows on his face, captivated by the idea, “somewhere warm with a beach.”

merlin laughs giddily and rolls over on top of arthur, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips, cheeks, and jaw, “anywhere else?”

arthur drags him back down into a tender kiss and rolls them back over, arthur pressing merlin down into the mattress, “anywhere as long as i’m with you.”

[ceaselesslyinlove]

“you look distinguished. but then again you always have” pen can’t help but compliment him even after everything in that first episode it’s so sweet 🥹😭

[acearohippo]

I love fandoms, especially witnessing what fans take away from source material and how fans interpret it based on their experiences. Not to mention the stark difference of interaction between new fans, casual fans, experienced fans, and long-term fans.

I say this because the SVSSS fandom has continuously fascinated me in insisting in discussions that there are parallels between Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe (tell don't show), but in their fanworks, I just see parallels between Luo Binghe and Yue Qingyuan (show don't tell).

And it's not even (fully) a case where they're blending character personalities because they want what the other dynamic has, it's just how the characters are based on canon in two different timelines.

All of this to say, perhaps original draft PIDW (NOT original!PIDW nor pre!SY PIDW which are completely different) was supposed to revolve around the dynamic between SJ and YQY vs SJ and LBH. Perhaps YQY was to be the last hour mastermind, the true foil to LBH.

And fandom is just circling this idea without realising it because, once again, the unreliable narrator that is SY has already convinced this fandom that any version of SJ has to be a/the villain, regardless if it's through his own actions or baseless rumours.

Warning, run-on sentence ahead.

I don't know, mans, but it's gotta mean something that LBH and YQY have such similar life beats of being orphaned and having a tough life but remaining kind/compassionate because they had someone to live for until they didn't which left them empty until they found (or refound in YQY's case) one (1) man to obsess over in an uncomfortably intrusive way with no regards for his feelings and rejections, eventually reaching a position as the most powerful being in existence with a huge caveat that their sword is 83% of that power and is slowly killing them which did nothing to soften said man of their obsession's into showing them kindness leading to the ultimate confrontation between the two in which only one could survive and keep their obsession, not that it mattered because neither of them got to experience his feelings reciprocated, except in another timeline where the same things are happening until their obsession suddenly stops rejecting their (still intrusive) advances even if he is acting a bit silly, but hey take advantage while you can and take advantage they did because now they have that reciprocated feeling (except one still "won" as he gets to keep him for himself) and be thankful that all it took was, in their perspective, a near death fever that drastically changed his personality and most likely left him crippled in some other way, preventing their obsession from not NOT needing them anymore, all-in-all fulfilling their desire to be relied upon again, hooray! 😋😁✌🏽

In all seriousness, at the end of the day people are going to draw connections between characters that fit whatever narrative they understood from the story. SVSSS fandom just seems to be trying to convince others of one narrative while believing on a deeper level of another narrative. It's amusing and makes following the fandom fun.

[fighting-naturalist]

idk i just thought he looked real pretty lit like this 🤷‍♀️

[lenle-g]

Inspired by these Scott and John words by the amazing @scribbles97 who knows I adore the idea of John's Oxford stint and couldn't resist this gem <3

The letter’s weight hadn’t changed in his hands, even if it’s appearance had. Once crisp sharp edges were now crumpled and the two folds were starting to rip where he had folded and unfolded it so many times.  Practically, he knew the letter was exactly the same weight as it had been when his course supervisor had handed it to him. Except, as days had become a week, the weight had felt heavier in John’s chest. He only had another week to think about it, his supervisor had warned it would take all summer to make the appropriate arrangements. His professors had all seemed convinced that he would go, it wasn’t every day you got invited to study at Oxford University after all. 

It would only be for a year, Ffion had insisted at study group, an interim that would still count towards his degree. He had only part jokingly asked if she wanted to go in his place. She would be much better suited to making friends in a new place. 

There was no denying it though, Oxford was tempting. The British University had always been in close competition with Harvard, each trying to outdo one another year on year with improved facilities and support. The only reason John hadn’t considered the other University had been the same reason he was still hesitating with the offer. 

Oxford was a long way away. 

To get home from Harvard, at best, was a four hour flight, at worst a two day drive. 

Oxford was transatlantic, at least double the flight time. 

He wouldn’t see his family for a whole year. 

Looking up he watched the gentle sway of the apple tree in the breeze, listened to the gentle creak of the barn doors. He wouldn’t see home for a whole year. 

“Whatcha doing out here, Johnny?” 

His eyes widened as he looked over his shoulder to the door back into the kitchen. Scott was leaning against the frame, the knowing cocky smile familiar as always. 

“You’re an hour early.”

Scott was meant to have flown in from Virginia, his flight was meant to have just landed. They all knew how long it took from landing to get home, they’d all done it enough times. 

Big brother sighed as he stepped out onto the verandah, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he leant on the railing next to the step where John was sitting. 

“Dad left a jet in DC and took the new rail line up to New York, said I could fly myself home. You do the math.”

He already had. 

“So, your turn to answer my question.” Scott continued, nodding at the letter, “What you got there?”

He was grateful really, Scott had been the one he had wanted to talk to about the whole thing. Scott would know what to say, his biggest brother somehow just always did. There wasn’t the same pressure from Scott as there was from Dad, he just understood differently. 

“Oxford University have invited me to complete my research year over there.” He admitted, reading over the words he already had memorised, “I could spend the next academic year in England.”

“Nice one.” Scott grinned, “I’ll tell Dad to pick up a bottle of something on his way in so we can ce--”

“I don’t know if I’m going to accept it.” He cut him off forcefully. Just like Dad, Scott had a habit of getting ahead of himself. 

The message seemed to get through though as his big brother plopped down next to him on the step. His frown was obvious confusion. 

“John, that’s one hell of an offer, Oxford is… it’s Oxford.”

“At present they have the better facilities over Harvard.” He filled in, not taking his eyes off of the paper, “They’ve just spent six million upgrading their Offshore Observatory. That’s as well as the Royal Observatory which is as good as what we’ve got at Harvard.”

On paper, comparing the facilities left it as a no brainer. 

“So what’s the hang up?” Scott asked, reaching for the letter to read for himself. 

Still John’s eyes didn’t leave the paper, still firmly fixed in place as his big brother read over the words for him. 

“Oxford is in England.”

Scott looked up, eyebrow raised, “So?”

“I don’t know anybody in England.” He sighed, “You guys all worry that I spend too much time on my own now if I go over there I’ll spend even less time with people.”

Scott shrugged at he leant against the railing of the steps, “You like being on your own though. I thought you would have jumped at the chance.” 

A glance back towards the kitchen apparently gave Scott all the answers he needed as John pursed his lips. 

“Oh.” 

“I know I’m not as close as the rest of you,” He admitted softly, “But you’re still my family.”

Scott shuffled over until their shoulders were pressed together. John expected him to sling an arm across his back, but was grateful when he didn’t. Instead big brother handed back the letter, nodding as he did so.

“And you’re still our brother, moving across an ocean isn’t going to change that. I’d come and visit when I’m on leave. Hell, I could bring Alan with me and you could show off the observatories.”

He had to smile at the thought. Watching the stars with Alan was one of his favourite pastimes, to be able to show his brother the best in star watching technology would perhaps be the biggest bonus of the trip. 

“Don’t let a fear of the unknown stop you from jumping in.” Scott grinned, his shoulder bumping John’s lightly, “You might love it.” 

“You sound like Dad.” 

Scott laughed as he stood, “Yeah, a few people have told me that recently.” 

Pausing on the top step as he frowned again, “And I wouldn’t worry about being on your own, doesn’t Dad have a friend over in London? That Lord guy?” 

“Yeah,” John nodded, suddenly remembering himself, “Yeah he does.” 

“So, you gonna go?” 

Taking a breath, he straightened his shoulders. His chest still felt heavy with the fear of not knowing what would come next. Scott seemed to have every faith though, and John knew he needed to have the same sort of faith in himself. 

“Yeah.” He swallowed, finally smiling as he looked up to his big brother, “I’m going to Oxford.”

[dreamtuna]

You’re lying next to Levi in bed, the covers pushed back so they’re pooled around your ankles. The cool night air tickles your skin now that it was getting colder. You had tried to pull them up over you but like usual he had demanded this. He’s propped up on his elbow, his other hand wandering up and down your chest. Gentle, teasing. His nails barely graze your skin. He lightly squeezes your breast but his gaze never leaves yours. He loves the way your cheeks flush with warmth, the way your lips part slightly for him, the way the softest gasp leaves you. But he loves your eyes most of all. His thumb plays with your nipple, flicking lightly over it in slow, deliberate motions. You can’t help but push your breasts towards him. Your subconscious demands more.

But just as you’re really getting into it his hand starts to trail away. Fingers ghost down your stomach. It tickles ever so slightly, your body jerking away, punctuated with more soft gasps.

He chuckles.

Oh… You can’t help but freeze at such a beautiful, rare sound. Your breath catches in your throat and you realise you’d do anything to hear it again. He’s always like music to you, but the beautiful melody of his laugh just makes you melt. You must really be blessed because you had been hearing it a lot more recently. Just for you.

Your eyes are locked with his. His scars are barely visible in the shadows his face is hidden in, but his eye twinkles at you. Your core feels like it’s going to erupt. You’ve been shifting your hips towards him without even realising it, only noticing when his firm grasp falls on you and halts your motions. You want him so badly, but he is always so insistent on taking it slow. He’s not used to the world now, the idea of peace strange and unfamiliar to him, but with you he can savour every moment. Only with you.

Your hands reach out to his chin, tilting his head slightly so the light better catches his features. His brows begin to furrow but before he can complain you close the distance and kiss him gently.

You would wait an eternity for his touch as long as you could spend it right beside him like this.

[skyward-floored]

Hi this picture of Twilight is one of my favorites

Okay thank you

[the-force-awakens]

#he is so lovely (▰˘◡˘▰) 

[dlanadhz]

People in the We Are tag are acting like it's a huge revelation that Fang will punch a bitch for you, but need I remind you that in episode 1, Phum was like "I need to get revenge on this asshole. who can help me? Ah. Fang." and Fang offered to get this guy back with barely a pause. And it did not come across like a "we have money, let's ruin his life" kind of help. And somewhere else, there was another hint that Fang would fight someone if asked. Phum is also known for fighting a bit. And then Fang heard about Q hurting Toey was like "want me to punch him?"

The revelation that Fang met Tan and his first instinct was to punch his chaos gremlin face is not surprising to me. The idea that they used to fight on the regular, and that he got into fights with others regularly, is not a surprise. In fact, I'm surprised we don't hear about this soft sweater boy fucking people up in high school more often.