absolute instant

Stay // Day 5

For: Rucas Fic Week 2017
Day Five: future //jump past the canon world we know and take a shot at where these losers will be down the road”
Word Count: 1,199

❀  ❀  ❀ ❀  ❀  ❀

The pouring rain creates a shield around Lucas as he slowly opens the massive blue umbrella he brought with him to work this morning. He was suddenly very grateful he decided to listen to his girlfriend, Riley, when she told him to bring it before he left. He had watched the news that morning when he got up and the weatherman said there would be nothing but clear blue skies all afternoon which clearly was a lie. Thankfully she was there, otherwise his walk home today would’ve been a lot less enjoyable.

As he rounded the corner to his apartment building he found himself hoping she was still there. She had the day off which she usually spent visiting her family or doing literally anything else that didn’t involve going back to her apartment.

Much to his dismay, Riley shared a place with her best friend Maya. He naturally assumed that when they finished college Riley would move in with him but his lack of mentioning resulted in her living with someone else. Something that he’s still kicking himself over, two years later.  

He didn’t know what he was waiting for. The amount of times Riley’s showed up at his apartment needing some place quiet to get her work done or looking for an escape from the passions of her uncle and best friend were too many to count.  

Somewhere along the line he, again, just naturally assumed she’d get the hint and just move her stuff in but just like before, his lack of communication didn’t do him any favors. He knew the easiest solution to his problems was to just be straight with her and ask her to move in but he couldn’t help but feed into the insecurities in his head telling him that if she wanted to move in with him she would’ve brought it up by now.

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Day 412 without Lexa

The only Clexa fic that has ever made me cry like a baby is “If” by @coeurdastronaute.

This line pretty much breaks my heart every time I read it.

“For a moment. For the briefest of instants. For absolutely a significantly insignificant measure of time. For the lapse in consciousness between being fully asleep and being fully awake, in that delicious, dream-saturated slice of the day, Lexa managed to forget and remember, simultaneously.”

youtube.com
Sage Laruto's Theme (Harp)
Harpsona

Harpsona is one of my favorite harpists on youtube and does a ton of fantastic Zelda music. My absolute favorite is her cover of Sage Laruto’s theme (which is my personal favorite from the WW OST), so I thought I’d submit it!

Thanks for all your work on this tumblr! I’m a life-long zelda fan and I’ve found so many awesome artists through your blog! :D

That is absolutely gorgeous! Instant subscribe :D I love the harp! Thanks for the submission :)

anonymous asked:

I FINALLY got to the alpha kids and i'm instantly head over heels for dirk. He loves his friends and wants to protect them so badly even if he doesn't actually know what he's fucking doing. god way to go hussie for INSTANTLY hitting all my fave buttons with one character.

Dirk was an absolute instant “oh no oh noooo” level of love for me too. Like, Dirk Strider is the fucking dream. And by dream, I mean the nightmare.

This was a a fool’s gambit, she thinks; and then she shakes her head to clear the demons. Places one hand above the other, pulls herself up over rock and ice, scarlet stains spreading from palms where gauntlets have torn. Every ten feet she looks below her and thinks about letting go, wonders if the wind would carry her away. To a different mountain. To a different life.

And then she places one hand above the other and pulls herself higher. The wind rises and her cloak snaps. Extinct, the Warlock said, but she is no fool.

It is waiting for her, somewhere high above her still. She knows it, can feel the certainty deep within the pit of her stomach, hot and wild and insistent. She felt it when the Warlock taunted her, she saw the pride and disdain upon his face and grinned to hear his dare, spoken with words that she would swear were not his own. But that is not why she came - oh, no. She came because she needed a way.

Hours pass. She has not spoken to her Ghost since she began the climb, as though it feels the same awe and certainty that she does and neither of them are willing to break their reverie.

One hand above the other, and her body rising higher. For a reckless moment, she closes her eyes and hangs from a jagged spar of rock or ice and before her eyes the memory replays; dust and ash and screams that she cannot forget despite all that she has seen, despite all that she has killed, despite the petty vengeance she has claimed.

Below her, infinity calls.

Not yet.

She could have changed it all, but she was not strong enough and now she is alone. She came for a way: she does not know what shape it will take; does not know if what she seeks is power, is solace, is forgiveness.

Not yet.

Hours bleed into days, for in this place time streams by in frozen, ivory whorls, and light seems to come from everywhere; clouds and mist reflect the silver-gold brilliance that birthed her and she has grown so tired she has forgotten how to think. Still she climbs, climbs until at last she realizes she can climb no further, and she collapses atop the unassuming summit of her torment, blinking into the radiance.

She stands, leaves bloody palm-prints in the snow. Her legs shake. She stares out over the drop; hears its whispers worming their way through tech and fabric, and resists the urge to run to it.

Behind her, snow crunches and something scrapes on rock.

Her turn is slow, halting. She will never admit it, but in this moment she feels a fear more pure than any she has felt before; not the gut-punch of dread or the nausea that comes before combat, but a high keening in her bones and a roaring in her ears that outmatches even the wind that still howls up the lonely frozen peak.

From one corner of her eye she sees it move. A single talon drags across the ice, and she knows that its vastness will fill her dreams. She closes her eyes and faces it, breathes a single, frozen breath, and opens them again.

She cannot judge the size of the thing that stands before her, that ripples in the luminescence. It is as endless as the sea and as minuscule as a pearl; as horrible and real as the hands that carried her here, to this place of solitude and beauty and perfect terror.

You are brave, huntress, it says; and its voice is the howl of wind and groan of rock and laughter of birds and the beating heart of all things. Brave, and strong.

I never was, she says, because she cannot keep herself from answering despite her fear. I am weak and always will be, and I will die and be forgotten the same as those I failed to save.

What do the dead matter? We stand upon the tip of the blade that you have forged from your own unending deaths, upon the Now that is you and is all that you have done. You alone can lift the knife. You alone can cut the shape of things to come.

She turns her head and glances down, to where the restless mist and cloud curls and uncurls again.

Not yet.

The grin widens. Rows of teeth gleam back at her, each one a promise, each one shining with razor-sharp potential. They came with the Traveler - she knows in a single instant of absolute clarity that they are not of the Traveler. She flinches at its wrongness, at the un-being of this creature; shivers as tendrils of ice slither down her neck. She does not know whether to run or fight.

Give me your dreams, oh huntress mine, and I will teach you how to eat the world.

The drop looms behind her, presses against the base of her spine, whispers its silken taunts. But before her there is only the grin.

Her Ghost screams at her, the first noise it has made since she began her ascent; a warning she can neither hear nor understand, because before her is only battle, is only wretched survival, is only horrifying necessity. It will kill her if she does not end it. Some things were never meant to be, and this - this thing, this creature of light and bone and sorrow - it must be erased. Unwritten. Made extinct.

The only way ahead is through. The only path to survival is victory.

And it grins, it grins, and in its grin she sees her own face; her fangs dripping blood, her talons clutching the maggot-white of fat and bone, and then her knives are in it and she cannot stop herself, and around her all she hears is laughter, laughter, laughter; and she does not know if it is hers.

She cannot stop until there is nothing left to kill, until her knife and patch-worked cloak are spattered in things she cannot name, until she realizes that she is crying.

The wind grants her silence. Beneath her, the snow shivers. Her eyes are closed. Frozen streaks crisscross her face. She raises her prize and blood coats lips once blue with cold, and as her teeth close in hot flesh something brilliant and sharp wails through her.

The work is messy, bloody - if blood is what it is. The bones she casts away, hides them where no one else will ever find them; convinces herself it is proof that the thing was never here. Unless - unless someday she should choose to find them again. To comfort herself. To show that she had the strength. It is good that she was the one to find it - others may not have had the force of will. She saves a single scale as proof, as totem, as trophy, wipes rimy tears from her face with a crimson hand.

The climb down takes her half as long or less, and she wonders why she struggled so much to ascend the mountain. It is not so large after all. By the time she reaches the ground she feels herself again; feels all her welcome, nail-cleaning confidence come back in a warm embrace, as though it had never left. As though she has stepped back into her own body. She is content.

Except for a vague feeling of unease. Except for the nagging sense that her victory was not hers alone. Except for the tickle in the back of her head, gentle as a lover’s caress, sharp as the knives strapped across her belt, that whispers:

There is always more to kill.

@spelltender @ofmartinlydia @ariaxmcrchant

the entire town looked absolutely deserted. in instant, everything had turned eerie and dark. it looked like a ghost town — where was everybody? he could feel presences but could not see a single soul. “hello?” he called, “is anybody there?” his voice echoed and a chill ran down his spine. what was happening? he caught sight of liv, an all too familiar face and rushes over to her. “this is insane. what’s going on?” he asked confused and a bit shaken up.

@probably-a-baguette i had a really great fic idea for this soooooooooo instead of headcanons have this nice little thing

“Dance With Me”
Words: 1,066
Rating: the high end of K+

It had been a long day to say the least. Hana was exhausted from class, but she wasn’t tired enough to want to go to sleep yet. She was in that weird state of wanting to do something to relax, but not anything that required any use of her brain, so video games were out of the question. Mai was out doing who knows what, so all Hana had was Mr. Bunny and an empty dorm. She groaned and flopped on her bed.

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anonymous asked:

Companions react to accidentally listening to the holotape SS's spouse made them before he/she passed.

Codsworth: There’s something hollow settling in him when he hears it, voices clear as day, able to recall 200 years past. He turns it off halfway through, partly from guilt of hearing something so private, and partly because it just hurts too much.

Preston (romanced): He and the Sole have been completely open about their past, and he feels like knows their old spouse. Any jealousy he might have been holding was incinerated at the voice of their old family, of the baby, and his hands shake as he places it back where he found it.

Preston (normal): When he finishes the tape, he brushes his fingers over it, and makes internal promise, a prayer maybe, for them after it’s put away.

Piper (romanced): Oh. Oh, Blue. She doesn’t cry, not quite. There’s one tear, and she wants the Sole to be right next to her so she can hug the hell out of them. Instead, she bites on her knuckle until it’s white, and then stands on shaky legs. If they can keep going, anything’s possible.

Piper (normal): She tells the Sole that she heard it, and asks for forgiveness, and they stare at her. They’re shocked at the horror on her face, and she feels positively cruel when they pull her into a comforting hug, like it happened to her and not them.

Strong: Soon after he’s heard it, he pats them on the back. It sends them stumbling, and it’s even more confusing with the accompanied, you are very tough. Brave.

Nick (normal): He didn’t mean to listen to it, but when he does, it reminds him of his disjointed memories of Jenny, and wonders if it feels the same for them. The sense of faded feelings from another world, but also their own. Good job, kid.

Nick (romanced): It leaves him with a feeling of grief, even if it is secondhand. That night, he pulls them onto his couch, wrapping his arms around them. Tell me everything about them, he says. And the Sole does, and they spend the night between tears and joy.

Hancock (romanced): He feels the instant, absolute need to get high. But he doesn’t, because there’s the sense this is something he needs to face with the SS. When they next see him, he picks them up and swings them around (or tries) and kisses them sweetly. Maybe not facing it directly on, but he can help in little ways. Love conquers all, right?

Hancock (normal): Does get high. Insanely so, with the SS if they’re open to it. If they are, they spend their time creating elaborate tales and laughing. If they don’t take the chems with him, he makes a big blanket fort with them and tells them stories of what he got up to when he was younger. Leaving out the sad bits.

Deacon (romanced): He tells them the truth this time, is open about listening to it. If they’re okay with it, he kisses them, and promises he’ll help any way he can. If they’re angry, he accepts that, and spends his time wallowing in regret and saying terrible puns.

Deacon (normal): He takes them to a playground. It’s old and messed up, but a lot of the rides work. Distractions, he thinks, are the best way to get over things. At least until you’re ready to confront them.

Curie (either romanced or not): One big long hug. No context, but it makes the SS feel better, like they needed that and didn’t realize. You are amazing, is whispered to them. Depending on the SS, they might break down crying, something understanding what she means.

Cait (romanced): There’s guilt heavy in her stomach at the jealousy she felt when she heard their spouse’s voice. She figures that they sounded nice enough, and they’d forgive her as long as she took care of the Sole. And she’d be damned if she let anything happen to them.

Cait (normal): There’s a single hand settled on the Sole’s shoulder, and a warm smile. A small weight lifts from them.

X6-88: I… That was extremely brave of you, is muttered out of the blue, and the SS is unsure what he’s talking about, but they smile anyway.

Dogmeat: He’s beside the Sole when he listens to it, and is confused when they start crying, sobbing so hard they shake. He whines and cuddles up next to them. He’s very good at comfort.

Danse (romanced): I love you. They did too. We’ll help them, he says, after admitting he listened to it. He kisses them quickly, and gives them the dignity of crying without him watching, walking ahead.

Danse (normal): He makes sure to praise them more, to make them feel happy, an obligation to them growing stronger than it had ever been.

Maccready (romanced): Once it’s finished, he clutches the tape in one hand, and tears start to run down his face. Faster, and faster, and he feels so incredibly useless, because the Sole helped him but he can’t help them.

Maccready (normal): Whatever they were doing, if it didn’t have a time limit, would be put on hold. The Sole would be touched and confused when he put finding their son above everything else, encouraging them to keep up hope.

here’s the thing, though. i’m really not a pro-accords, pro-SRA person.

let’s stick to mcu for this particular rant. yes, i absolutely refuse to ignore the fact that t’chaka and rhodey are arguably the soundest and most objective moral centers of the film, i categorically reject anti-accords discourse that indiscriminately demonizes all parties involved in the accords based on the premise that the pro-accountability stance is somehow morally deplorable, i myself agree with the pro-accountability stance, and i think that if 117 countries are talking, you need to listen.

however. it does come down to the old “flawed execution” argument for me, which i personally don’t take lightly in this case. speaking as a non-american citizen and a latina with… relevant personal/familial baggage that i’m certainly not about to publicly discuss on this shitty blogging platform: you show me a scenario where people can be imprisoned while their right to a lawyer and fair trial is reduced to snickering by martin freeman in a suit? nope. absolute, instant, glaring NO in my book. like, no matter how good the concept is, this sort of thing is the negative number multiplied into a however endless string of positives, the final result will be a negative anyway. there’s no getting around that for me, no amount of tony stark desperately promising that “documents can be amended” that can make something like this feel even remotely comfortable.

so yes, i do understand and i can relate to all that stuff about the accords being bad. what i don’t understand is whatever logic that leads people to categorize tony stark as a malicious or naïve/privileged perpetrator of this Bad System, when he’s deliberately, and at great personal expense, putting himself out there as a political buffer between the avengers and said system

my god, speaking as someone who’s very familiar with Deportation ~Paranoia, yes, yes, there is something immensely satisfying in the escapist fantasy that the superhero genre provides, the whole “standing up for what you think is right, no matter what,” very steve rogers concept. you disagree with something in a visceral level? middle finger it. fight it. i do appreciate watching that in characters who are acting out of a fundamentally good drive. even if and when i don’t agree with what they’re doing. if my little brother fucking came home to me with some story about how he mouthed off to an authority figure who was being unfair to him, i would be fucking furious at him first thing, because rule number fucking one is DO NOT ARGUE IN A WAY THAT’S GONNA GIVE THEM RELEVANT REASON TO GET YOU IN LEGAL TROUBLE, because how fucking stupid can you be, but like. like. i would certainly god damn watch the entire episode

(by the way, that’s why the steve/tony dialog that goes “when i see a situation pointed south, i can’t ignore that. sometimes i wish i could” “no, you don’t” “no, i don’t” “sometimes i want to punch you in your perfect teeth” rings so true and compelling to me, and i particularly relate to it on tony’s end, because what i read into it is really not something i can quite verbalize, it’s just. honestly. that feeling when your little brother insists on doing something stupidly misguided out of a stupidly reckless drive that is nonetheless heroic, and you just eye-twitch into infinity because you wish he would chill but at the same time you’re glad it’s still him, that’s the feeling.)

anyway, yes. the whole “no, you move” thing speaks to my fantasies. but what spoke to me, personally, in this whole civil war construct? this thing where tony cannot move. tony having to act while politically and legally restrained – not in the “this is how cops and people with guns should be supervised” sense, but in the sense where he’s dealing with threats of unjust incarceration for his friends, and even threats against their lives

that’s what lives at the heart of my unhealthy fascination with the berlin sequence, i guess? everybody and their mothers know that i’m obsessed with tony being stressed out as fuck while still having to hold his own, self-restrained and beyond possible reproach, in atmospheres that are hostile and biased against him. hell, surprise, i relate. i still insist that at that point in the movie, the hold that the accords had on tony had more to do with his fear than his principles. their initial discussion is the only time we see tony actively argue using principles of accountability as a basis, after that, when trying to persuade steve, he keeps harping on the same point about consequences that he had already touched on during the first discussion. from berlin onward, he tells steve he’s doing what’s necessary to stop something worse, he says he’s trying to protect wanda because she’s politically vulnerable, he tries to convince steve and the rest of team cap to come with him “because it’s us” and not a damn killing squad. and then in the end, we do see the manifestation of “something worse,” what tony was trying to avoid, when we see the avengers locked up in the raft.

i said it once, i’ll say it again: when push comes to shove, tony’s not going after steve because he thinks steve’s position is morally reproachable and because the accords are Justice, he’s going after steve because steve running off after not signing the accords is actively making their situation worse

and i suppose that this kind of thing just invites the sort of reductive argument fandom has been indulging in, the whole like. who’s Right, who’s Wrong, tony’s taking the ~path of least resistance of the accords out of cowardice/malicious intent/naivety, or because that’s the path that saves his ass, etc etc etc. well, speaking again from my personal life perspective: when somebody subjects themself to a system out of fear of consequences for noncompliance that their family, friends, and self might be exposed to, and someone else jumps in and says that person must be a coward or lazy or bigoted or whatever because they didn’t explicitly middle-finger @ The System, it’s hard for me not to assume that the second person isn’t pretty much like one of those white american fratboys smoking weed in public because “fuck the system” am i right? like. clearly this sort of person doesn’t know what it’s like to sit your little brother the fuck down and tell him to fucking chill and endure a measure of injustice because you’re scared of what will happen if he doesn’t          

and like. give me a break, every day of my life i need to make a conscious effort not to call myself a coward for not Taking A Stand. even in a tony level, i have indeed tortured myself by briefly considering the possibility that tony may not have been heroic in cap 3 up until he rebelled, told ross to fuck off in not so many words, and went after steve, but hey you know what? nah. that’s not true. tony’s drive was heroic from the very get-go, and it gets especially so when steve steps into the room and tony’s already on the phone with ross, trying to alleviate the situation and basically offering up himself and his name as collateral. he’s heroic even as he tells ross “thank you, sir” after ross gives him 36 hours, instead of the requested 72, to apprehend bucky/team cap without resorting to lethal force – why? because he’s subjected to inhumane levels of pressure and fear and he still won’t “fuck off” out of the situation because he’s scared of what rocking this particular boat will mean to the avengers. 

it baffles me that people don’t seem to understand how huge this is, but then again, i don’t know, maybe it’s just a perspective thing. in the narrative itself, i don’t think steve & co really acknowledge, appreciate, or maybe even comprehend the level at which tony is acting in his attempts to protect them, so like?? this is probably a lost battle

(because people asked: yes this is ok to reblog)

anonymous asked:

cass and steph get married and gain custody of batcow

“So now that you and my sister are– unfortunately– getting married… What do you want as a gift.”

“What can we have?” Steph asks, grinning a bit and not really phased by the whole ‘unfortunately’ thing.

“Anything you want, obviously.”

“Anything?” she asks, her voice that special fake innocent that has her fiance instantly looking over at her.

“-Tt- are you deaf as well as stupid, Brown?” he asks, crossing his arms and glaring at her, “Yes, anything. Now what do you want.”

Stephanie’s ‘innocent’ smile turns devious in an instant, “Batcow.”

“Absolutely not,” he snaps, glaring at her

“You said anything,” she points out, grinning

“I didn’t mean my cow!” he shouts, hands balled up into fists like he’s going to punch her. Knowing Damian it’s a distinct possibility.

“Don’t worry Damian,” Stephanie smiles, “We’ll let you visit on the weekends.”

“Cain!” Damian turns his fury on his sister, “Make her stop this at once!”

“You said anything,” Cass shrugs, “And I like the cow.”

“You don’t even need a cow! You have Brown!” He shouts, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Well that was rude,” Stephanie crosses her arms, pouting a little, “And I was about to change my mind, too.”

“Brown!”

“Alright, alright,” Stephanie finally gives in, laughing, “We’re kidding. You can keep the cow… But only if

I

get to pick your suit, agreed?”“Fine.”And that my friends is the story of how Damian Wayne showed up to his sisters wedding in a suit of the most magnificent eggplant purple. But hey, he got to keep the cow.

300 followers crackfic spectacular

Iwaizumi headcanons because why not:
  • He only drinks coffee from Starbucks and Oikawa always laughs at him every time he walks into class with a caramel frapp.
  • Iwa shops at Zumies a lot and it turns into a pun.
  • Kyoutani likes to copy everything Iwaizumi does, like fold his arms a lot, and Iwa thinks it’s really cute. 
  • He ships Kyouhaba.
  • He is the most pumped for Pokemon Sun and Moon.
  • He got to know Kenma for the same reasons and they trade Pokemon a lot.
  • You know what, Iwaizumi is just obsessed with Pokemon, end of story. 
  • If Oikawa bothers him too much at school Iwa will undo his bowtie.
  • He’s really good at hair stuff because Oikawa broke his arm once and Iwa had to come over every morning to do his hair.
  • He’s also super good at computers and programming so he wants to do that in college if volleyball doesn’t work out. 
  • Young man, you get back here and practice your receives right this instant!” 
  • He absolutely loves Nicki Minaj.
  • One thing he hates a lot is when people just stare unabasheldy at Oikawa’s knee supporter. 
  • He once wore inserts in his shoes to make him taller and Oikawa threw them away becuase ‘you’re at a perfect height, Iwa-chan!!’
  • Iwaizumi dropped water on his head as revenge for throwing away his expensive inserts and also because ‘your hair is fine the way it is naturally, Assikawa!’ 
7

Sometimes I have hard time remembering that Coldharbour is supposed to be a horrible and miserable place because the whole realm is so aesthetically pleasing to be. Like I’m there with my companion, trying to save some NPC from terrible torture or whatnot and I’m constantly distracted by pretty shiny sceneries…

“Quick, hero, we must save him!”

“Yes, absolutely, we shall go instant- Ooh, but would you look at that view! So lovely!” *stops to take twelve screenshots*