"Okay"- An Everlark one-shot.

An anon sent me a link to this picture, and asked if I could write a little au drabble or one-shot about it. So, here you go.

She can feel him trembling beside her, the steadiness of his heartbeat no longer in sink with her own.

"Peeta," Katniss whispers gently, turning him over to face her. She reaches out and softly strokes away the sweaty curls matted to his forehead. "Peeta, talk to me…"

His silence is his response, the room falling so silent she could feel her own pulse thrumming in her ears.

He finally opens his eyes, red and watery, glazed over as if he’s seen a ghost.

“I’m sorry,” He finally opens his eyes, red and watery, glazed over as if he’s just seen a ghost. Her heart clenches at the way that he looks at her, sad, devastated, alone. “What can I do, Peeta? What can I do for you?” Her voice rises in desperation as he squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“Please…please talk to me…” Katniss draws her lips to him forehead, lacing tiny kisses along his face. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” His eyes flutter open, and he stares into her eyes.

“I love you so much, okay?” she starts, holding his face in her hands. “You’re going to get through this. I know you will. I’ll be here the whole time.”

The death of Peeta’s brother, Rye, was all but a surprise. They all knew it was coming; it was inevitable. Diagnosed with leukemia at the young age of seven, Rye battled until the very last second, passing away at only nineteen years old.

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consultingbeekeepers asked:

After Sherlock defeated Moriarty for good, everything seemed to be fine, but he and John had only been happy for a very short while. Sherlock got up early on that day. He couldn't believe it had come so fast. He stood in the living room, listening to the song he had recorded a long time ago. It had been John's favourite. He had a feeling of déjà vu, it was almost like John's wedding day. Mrs Hudson came upstairs with a sad look on her face, setting down the tray with tea and biscuits since (1/3)

John couldn’t make tea anymore. “It’s the big day then,” she sniffled. Sherlock just nodded. She went back downstairs without another comment. The detective was alone, the music played in the distance. He looked at John’s chair with watery eyes. He’d never sit in that chair again. He’d never hear him laugh, see his smile or smell his scent again. It was over and he would never stop blaming himself for not being able to save John from the bullet that went right through his heart. (2/3)

The sad look on his face as he lay in Sherlock’s arms, struggling to breathe, would always haunt him. They both knew the ambulance wouldn’t arrive in time, so this was it. John wouldn’t come back to him this time and Sherlock had to live with it. He blinked once and then went into their bedroom. “Right then. Into battle …” He murmured as he stood in front of his wardrobe, getting ready for John’s funeral to pay his last respect to his best friend, partner and lover. (3/3)

no…no NO I won’t allow it. Nope, no. Shut up and don’t even touch me right now. NOBODY TOUCH ME!

anonymous asked:

You've just gotten out of the shower. You wrapped your towel around you, covering your breasts and your private area. You let out a surprised gasp as someone comes behind you and pulls you close. The man grinds his erection against your backside, causing you to let out loud moan. Your now watery eyes looked back at who it is, well, if it isn't Hanamiya. He huskily chuckles, "I'm in the mood," After he says that he whispers your name seductively. This night is going to be wild..

Sweet damn

Old Tui knows the way home

Dawn peach

And baby blueberry hues.

All speak to you through the curtains 

of your own imagination.

I wish to have the salty ocean envelope my naked body.

To walk down to the boat house,

to meander in a present daze down the ramp.

Over the barnacles and decaying wood.

Clearing two planks with each step.

Avoiding the cracks with the tiptoeing efficiency

of a nutcracker ballerina.

Pirouetting into Tangaroa’s watery depths.

Old Tui know’s the way home.

He just chooses not to go.

We need him here.

He can lead us there you know.

- Samantha-Jeanne

Mercenary Stories: The Ionian Slave

"So, since I’ve been getting interest drawn to how I fight, /and/ why I got these studded bracers on my forearms and legs (pleasantly concealed by clothing, mind you), I thought I might as well…tell ya how I learned about it."

"Alright so, slave pits. Yeah I talk about that a bit, got thrown in there at 13.The A’kiran Colossum they dubbed it. Fucking bullshit I’ll say right now; nothing but a watery and muddy hole in the ground with caged up viewing areas where these slob fucks would yell from and bet money. Tossed two to four malnourished skeletons into the ring, sometimes a crude knife or bat, and whoever was able to drag themselves out of it, won. What did we win? Another fucking torturous day of living."

"Anyway, as you would expect; I couldn’t fight for shit in the beginning. Got the scar on my face from my very first fight there, by a kid about two maybe three years older than me, with a rock. The only way I actually managed to win was he slipped up, and I sat on his back and held his face in the muddy water until he stopped moving. I was a fucking wreck back then. About two or three weeks of my half-ass lucky matches go on before this new slave gets brought in; mid twenties guy. Think he said his name was Yoh."

"Now, usually slaves don’t really get too acquainted in the pit, given how you could end up having to kill your new friend, but this guy made the effort. Guess cause I was the youngest or something. It was…alright yeah, to have someone to at least talk to. He watched one of my fights, like all the slaves are forced to watch, and after coming out of it he says to me; ‘Johnny, you’re not going to last on that strategy for more than a month’. So, he starts teaching me. Teaching me to fight proper."

"He taught me these stances, different foot and arm position meant to portray different animals or something, like cranes and tigers and monkeys. At first I didn’t get any of it, until I saw him fight. He was a fucking /monster/. He could block a guy’s swing and bash him upside the head in the same motion with the same arm. He never got even close to getting knocked off his feet either, even with all that mud and water. It was fucking insane."

"Over the next few years me and him stuck around together, he taught me more everyday and we practiced. Things just started to click, bam bam bam one after the other. My new fights were drawing more attention and more betters, I heard from one of the slavemasters."

"I really should’ve fucking seen it coming."

"They put me against Yoh, some super high stakes bet that drew a fuck ton of people, way more than usual."

"Looking at that guy, the fucking years that he helped me through, and now either I was going to kill him, or he was gonna kill me."



"Shut the fuck up, you know who won already."


Alright, I’ll put an ad in the papers, “Wanted: kind home for enormous savage rodent! Answers to the name of Sybil.”

This awesome LEGO model of the Fawlty Towers hotel foyer was created by 21-year-old Cornell University student and LEGO builder Nathan Feist. It’s full of delightful details from the hysterical 1970s British sitcom about a dysfunctional little hotel in the seaside town of Torquay (on the ‘English Riviera’), written by and starring the inimitable John Cleese and his then-wife Connie Booth. Note the fire extinguisher, fire alarm, and the infamous moose head that hangs above the lobby desk (for now), complete with its broken antler.

Feist showed off his creation at BrickFair Virginia, but he says the model is actually still a work in progress:

'I plan to modify this and post another set of photos once I get some parts I don't yet own and will maybe even build the upstairs or exterior.'

Whatever you do, don’t go in there asking for a Waldorf salad.

[via Neatorama, Nerdist and The Daily Mail]



As they entered the room they walk in sync and really close heck and during the session they kept doing silly dorky things with each other and pushing each other around and other gay stuff probably mentioned in people’s posts about their photos. I’m 90000% done with them. As soon as I entered the room and saw them I got a little watery eyed because they were right THERE and it was really happening so I had to look up at the roof and fight back getting teary omg.

So I went up and Chris’ music was blasting and they were singing lines of “Your Love” by The Outfields and in the first part of the song, before photos really started, they sort of jumped towards each other and sang “I dont wanna lose your love, toniiight” with big expressions and Jensen air guitaring and dancing on the spot. (which is on my 8tracks cockles mix, and has been for months) I COULDNT BELIEVE IT. THAT SONG WAS PLAYING. 

Chris introduced me saying “”this is my buddy Kate, she’s from Australia and its her first time in America!” and I was trying so hard not to blush and I was in between them and they both went “Hey Kate! Welcome” and Jensen went “DO-YOU-UN-DER-STA-ND-US” all dumbed down and Misha laUGHED AND I ROLLED MY EYES JENSEN LAUGHED IT WAS SO GROSS AND DUMB IT WASNT EVEN FUNNY.

then MISHA asked “What do you think of the customs here?” and I KID YOU NOT JENSEN DID THAT HEAD TILT BACK LAUGH LIKE MISHA HAS SAID THE FUNNIEST THING IN THE WORLD BUT MISHA OBVIOUSLY DIDNT and I wanted to reply SOMETHING at least but I was kinda sorta starstruck and said “oh um i dont know, the driving is super weird here” I CANT BELIEVE MYSELF

"So Kate what are we doing?" Jensen said and I guess I must have gone really quiet (which hardly ever happens, I’m a loud person), plus the loud music, AND THEY BOTH LEANED IN REALLY CLOSE FROM EITHER SIDE OF ME JFC "can we hold hands in the first photo, then go for a big hug in the second?" and they both went "absolutely, lets do it!"

So we took the hand-holding picture, and they both held my hand REALLY TIGHT. SHIT. Then when taking the second photo, we hugged tight but Chris came back over before he took it to fix my hair where a strand had fallen on my face somewhere. I mouthed thank you as he went back to take the photo.

Afterwards I thanked them both and said goodbye, but went over to Misha and said “No one said it at the panel, sadly, but congratulations for your PCA, you really deserved it and I’m, we’re all so proud. And he rubbed my arm and was really grateful and humbled as usual and kept saying thank you. bless him.

I cried afterwards and was shaking so violently I couldnt hold the glass of water Molly had waiting for me and my twitter broke from all my friends being happy for me oh m y god. I MADE IT. I SURVIVED.

please dont repost this, if you want to edit, make a manip or use it for whatever, i’m pretty flexible, as long as you credit back to this original post, it would be great! thank you!


Y O U  are glasses.