almost miniature

the best part about this entire thing is that it took me seeing this and only this and it inspired 6k+ worth of smut, fluff, and drunk!harry being cute. so it’s really cute, then filthy, and then cute again, and then filthy one last time so it has BALANCE. also based on this blurb i posted yesterday! enjoy <3

“Think it’ll be the best night f’my life f’you go an’ catch that bouquet,” he says in answer to your earlier question, and your eyes go wide and you shake your head almost instantly. “Absolutely not – have you ever been part of a bouquet toss? Those women will claw me t’the death tryin’ t’get it,” you reason, and he pouts.

“Please, baby – promise I’ll kiss it better,” he says, and you almost give in because he’s properly pouting like a child right now, but you look over to where all the bachelorettes have gathered, and you scrunch your nose. “Y’can buy me a bouquet f’roses and throw ‘em at me, ‘f that’s really what you want t’see happenin’,” you offer, and Harry literally whines. “Baby–” he starts, and you cut him off, “No.”





It goes on like that until the final call for the girls to gather and Harry shrugs. “Fine then. I guess I’ll go,” he says, and you give him a look of confusion, your eyebrows knitted together, until you realize he means he’s joining the bouquet toss.


Harry and Y/N go to a wedding in Hawaii and he joins in on the bouquet toss when you refuse

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Random Pezberry Thought of the Day #86

Everyone knows by now not to play mini golf with Santana and Rachel. They are extremely competitive, and along with Quinn and Brittany (their putt-putt partners), they have been thrown out of and banned from all the miniature golf courses within a 50 mile radius of Lima, Ohio.

favorite meme of late: “inconvenient thing ‘x’ is ‘y’-phobic/anti-’y’” posted by a person who is ‘y’. I don’t have too many of those I can comfortably use, myself, being a mostly straight, cis, white-passing dude. But I have some!

“Being required to remember to take your meds is fatphobia.”

“Lower back pain discriminates against me because I’m bipolar.”

“…Allergies are Class Warfare.”

||❥ the conveniently inconvenient neighbour

j o s h u a ! s c e n a r i o

p u n k ! a u

word count: 3, 644

includes: a slight christmas theme (i know, it’s kinda late lmao) + joshua likes playing his electric guitar at the most inconvenient times + some heated stuff but not smut, so just be warned!

✎ okay but srsly imagine punk!jisoo who plays in a band and plays electric bass guitar nd he’s got some piercings and the tousled hair with dark eyeliner, i’m sweatin. have an amazing holiday guys!! stay warm if yall got some of that cold ass weather. also he’s such a fluff it’s so hard 2 find badass gifs of him,,

That was the fourth time Joshua had strummed his electric guitar today, since the blanket of frost sticking persistently to your window had grown more opaque, shimmering under sunlight sprinkled from meringue peaks in the sky.

You knew because you were counting, every chord that thundered through paper thin walls warding your attentiveness from different tasks. The cacophony of harsh noises first erupted during early morning, when you rose from the soft linen pools swirling beneath you to greet the familiar frost, crisp against your window. It was a startling bark that shot a tremor up your spine, almost quivering the miniature hour glass on your bedside table. Your mind had been too cloudy to warble, your limbs too lethargic to set you outside his door and spew indignant nonsense.

So you made breakfast. Or at least, you tried to.

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the karma of kismet / the first knot

The bond which binds us together.

pairing: chae hyungwon/reader

genre: romance and fluff

word count: 2.805

author’s note: this is a soulmate au!

According to an East Asian folklore, there is a red string of fate which connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. They say this thread may stretch or tangle, but the bond will never break. The invisible twine is their winsome way of finding one another.

On the opposite end of the cord stands your soul mate, who has been tied together with you at the pinky since birth. Every time you meet each other, the link tugs at your little finger to act as a gentle reminder of whom you are bound with.The surrounding world as you know it will turn black and white, and it is then when the thread lovingly glows a garnet hue upon gazing at the strand, highlighting the importance of this fateful encounter. The vermilion color is traditionally symbolic for good luck and happiness; emotions which create an indelible bond of the immaterial string that secures the tie between you and your soul mate.

It was by far the most auspicious fairy tale you’ve ever heard of. This myth had been around for many millennia, since the dawn of time, yet you still couldn’t quite believe in its promising truth. The red string of fate would be the realest thing you’d ever experience other than death, your ancestors would whisper in the wind, the words warmly wrapping around your adolescent heart. It satisfies the soul upon gazing at its subtle lithe, filling the spirit with a sense of belonging and exuberance from a heaven-sent love.

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temsik  asked:

So, because I actually have something of an interest in playing BATIM, I'm curious. Does BATIM have jumpscares? Because it looks like a cool game with a great concept and atmosphere, but I just DON'T do jumpscares. Anxiety and all that fun stuff.

It does!  In fact, the first chapter relies almost entirely on miniature jumpscares to actually SCARE you.  The atmosphere does some pretty decent work, though.

There are three jumpscares in the first chapter that I can think of, but while they’re jumpscares… they’re… really not that bad?  This is coming from a total pansy, mind you; I’m terrible with horror myself.  But it’s NOWHERE NEAR FNAF level jumpscares; the worst they do is surprise you.  After they happen, all of the jumpscares actually wind up being kinda (unintentionally) cute, once you think about ‘em.

I could describe them to illustrate what I mean, but that would be spoilers…  I do recommend watching somebody play the first chapter on YouTube to get a feel for what the game’s like!

anonymous asked:

More Smol Sole please? (Teenage Sole) Perhaps the companions getting overprotective of them?

((Here’s the original post, for those of you who haven’t already read it.))

Thirteen-year-old Sole has a habit of getting cocky. They’ve made it this far on their own. Clearly they are invincible! Young teenagers were bad enough Pre-War, but armed with a gun and a sense of immortality, this kiddo is a handful. In combat, or otherwise, Sole sometimes needs a little looking-after.

Cait: The Irish brawler isn’t in the habit of being protective. Sole can handle themselves, a fact they’ve proven time and time again. Though they can be an irritating turd at times. “Look, neither of us’re gonna get anywhere if you end up dead. And that’s too big for you.” Pursing her lips, Cait shoots the kid a scowl, smacking the over-sized shotgun from their grubby little hands and taking it for herself.

“Hey!” Sole bats at her grip, trying to tug the weapon back towards them.

“It’s bigger than you are, damn it,” Cait growls. “Look. You let me ‘ave this’un, and I’ll show you how to throw someone.”

Sole pauses, arches an eyebrow. “’Throw someone’?”

Cait grins. “Yeah. Y’hook ‘em up over your back, and slam ‘em right back down against the ground. Broken a few necks that way.”

Sole decides giving up the shotgun is worth the potential lesson.

Codsworth: “Oh, goodness, Sole, er, please-” The Mr. Handy sighs as Sole devours a plateful of meat and fruits. He’s managed to get them to eat off of plates, at least, but the silverware he’s so carefully laid out remains untouched.

Honestly. The baddies roaming the wasteland are one thing, but convincing a stubborn teenager to eat with a knife and fork? That’s the real battle of the ages. “Could you at least use a napkin, Mx. Sole?” 

Sole narrows their eyes, giving him a sour look, lips smeared with a mix of mutfruit juice and meat grease. “Why? I have a sleeve.” Licking their lips, they wipe their mouth off on a matted sleeve, prompting a helpless groan to rattle from the Mr. Handy’s voicebox.

“Mx. Sole, you’ll be the death of me. I appreciate that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, physically, but if you were ever to go out in anything resembling polite society-”

“Oh, not this again, Codsworth. For fuck’s sakes!”

Curie: She wipes a tissue over Sole’s dripping nose, making them flinch back and try and push her away. “Sole, my dear, you are not well! If you would let me-”

“Christ, Curie, it’s just a little snot. I won’t die.” Getting away from her insistent, motherly coos, Sole wipes off their face with the inside of their shirt, ignoring the stuffiness in their nose and their slight headache. Pssh. Like they’d get sick. What kind of loser gets a cold?

“But you may have a weakened immune system, or dulled senses! It is not good to go out when you are not yourself. It is dangerous!” Curie insists, pulling on their arm. “Let me give you a hot bath. A salt scrub may be just what you need!”

“A bath?” Sole recoils in horror. “No, no, Curie, don’t, you don’t need to- Someone help me!” They flail, shouting out into the crowded center of the marketplace. “This crazy lady is kidnapping me!”

Later, in the bathtub, Sole crossed their arms and glared at the wall as Curie washed them clean before swaddling them in a towel, placing them in bed and providing a warm bowl of soup.

Danse: Pinned down behind some meager cover, Danse stifled a growl as Sole refused to fall back. “I’ve got it,” they insisted, fumbling with their gun and hissing curses as a few precious bullets tumbled from their fingers and vanished into the grass. As Sole reached down to pick them up, a cry tore from their throat instead as Danse curled a hand into the back of their shirt and yanked them up off the ground. 

Wrapping his arms around them, Danse used his own power-armored body as protection, dwarfing their smaller body with his torso and running from their attackers, grunting as laser fire welted his back and make the metal hiss and bubble. Rounding a corner, he dropped Sole to the ground, leaning back to catch his breath.

Surprised and unsteady, Sole brushed themselves off indignantly. “What the fuck was that?” they snapped. “I said I got it.”

Danse lifted his head, matching Sole’s eyes. His glare could be felt even through his helmet. “All due respect, Sole, you did not. And I did not plan on waiting to see you die.”

Refusing to see the truth in his words, Sole let out a stubborn huff of air, grabbing their gun and peering around the corner to resume the fight. Wry smirk curving his lips, Danse couldn’t resist patting their shoulder, if only to hear them complain and bitch about being treated like a child.

Deacon: “You gonna buy me a drink?” Sole questioned, slipping into the barstool beside him as Deacon ordered his first beer of the night.

Deacon laughed. “Uh, last time I checked, you weren’t old enough to drink.”

Sole rolled their eyes. “Last time I checked, they don’t card you if you have the caps. Come on. One beer.”

“Nope.” Waiting for the drink to be poured, Deacon pulled a carton of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, pulling one out and lighting it. He noticed Sole do the same in the corner of his eye, and quickly snatched the carton away, flicking the cigarette from Sole’s lips.

“Dude!” Sole exclaimed, looking offended. “The hell? We’re all adults here.”

“Smoking’ll kill you, you know.” Call him old-fashioned, but he does try to keep Sole on the straight and narrow. Kids shouldn’t be smoking and drinking, even if bartenders allow it. It’s not good for them, and Deacon does have a soft spot for the kid.

“Yeah, but we’re all going to die sometime.” Again, Sole rolled their eyes. “So. You won’t let me smoke or drink. I literally shot a guy in the face today. Why do I get to do that but not this?”

“Because I said so.” A grin split Deacon’s face, even as Sole let out a dramatic groan and laid their head on the bar counter. Deacon’s pint arrived, and he sipped it with a smug sigh.

Dogmeat: Trapped inside a hotel room, a cluster of strung-out raiders on the verge of kicking down the door, Sole set their jaw and pushed together some furniture to make a last-stand blockade, crouching behind it and wrapping their shaking hands around their weapon. 

As the raiders broke down the door, Dogmeat lunged forward, sinking his teeth into the first attacker and growling, holding them still as Sole closed one eye and fired. Between the narrow channel of the doorway and Dogmeat distracting them, Sole picked them off one by one. But one broke through, brandishing a rusty machete and jumping at Sole, prompting a terrified scream.

Dogmeat changed tactics, barking and snarling, snapping his jaws and attacking the raider, wrestling him to the ground and tearing him to bits. When all went quiet, the canine walked to Sole, whimpering softly. Muzzle stained with blood, he snuffled for Sole’s hand, offering a paw and soft bark as near-human reassurance. Sole hugged the dog very tightly, each of them taking deep breaths.

“Thanks, Dogmeat,” Sole breathes, thin shoulders shaking. 

Hancock: “Why don’t you ever let me look at the strippers?”

The ghoul nearly spits out his morning vodka. “Excuse me?”

“When you bring people to the Statehouse,” Sole replies, lazily stretched out over one of the couches in Hancock’s office. “You always kick me out before they come over. It’s not like I don’t know what people look like naked, man. Besides. I’m basically an adult. Why can’t I have a little fun too?”

“Uh, I don’t think-” Hancock downs the vodka, suddenly feeling he’s going to need it. “I don’t think thirteen counts as adult.”

Sole glowers, sitting up to look at the ghoul. “It pretty much does. Adult enough, anyway. Come on. Pleeeeeease? I won’t get in your way.”

Hancock laughs, and pops two pills between his lips, swallowing them with another gulp of vodka. “Having a kid at an orgy kind of dampers the mood, Sole. Get back to me when you’re sixteen and full-grown. I don’t want to have to kick any kid-touchers out of my parties.”

He’s joking, but the thought does bother him sometimes. Goodneighbor’s not the most family-friendly place, and Sole has a habit of getting in over their head. In future, he spreads word to make sure Sole doesn’t get into any clubs after dark, though this means he has to endure more than one temper tantrum from the young adult in question.

Nick Valentine: “I know you’re a good shot, kiddo, but try not to be offended when I say you could use a little practice.”

Taking the heavy pistol the synth offers, Sole scowls. “If I can shoot straight, what’s the point?”

“If you have to use all your strength to hold it up, and stop moving in order to shoot straight, you’ll get yourself killed pretty easy.” He gestures to the way Sole has to cradle the weapon in their hands, smaller fingers barely wrapped around the grip. “Just try not to shoot me. I might be made of nuts and bolts, but bullets still sting.”

Nick and Sole head out to the back of Diamond City, to some old piled up stones, where Nick sets out beer bottles and teaches Sole how to jump from cover to cover without being pinned down. Nick’s pistol in their hands, Sole almost looks like the miniature version of the detective. Even more so at sundown when the two head back to the office, and Nick takes off his fedora, placing it on Sole’s head with a faint smile.

MacCready: “I… don’t think that’s such a good idea, boss.”

“Why not?” Sole stops at the mouth of the cave, ominous blackness behind them with faint drips and whispers of wind coming from the dark. “Come on. I’ll turn on this Pipboy, we’ll go on in, it’ll be fine. That guy in the Third Rail told us there was a bunch of stuff stashed here. We’ll be rich!”

“Yeaaah…” MacCready’s brow furrows. “Somehow I don’t trust a card shark, though. Are you sure we can’t just go somewhere else?” A strange groan rumbles from the cave mouth, Sole jumping and taking a few unsteady steps from the cave entrance. “Yeah, no. We’re not going in there.”

“Mac, come on!” Sole whines, extending their hands. “Don’t do this to me! W-We can do this!”

MacCready crosses his arms. “Sole.”


“Don’t copy me.”

Don’t copy me.”

“Oh my god, you just did it.”

Oh my god, you ju-”


Sole! … Wait, what are you- No! Let go of me!” Sole flailed and squirmed as MacCready stomped over, picking up the teen by the scruff of their neck and carting them up and away from the hill. “MacCready!”

Piper: Having grown up with a little sister, the older Wright girl didn’t get too upset over Sole’s antics, already knowing how to handle strong-willed teenagers. Sole wasn’t used to being ‘handled’, however, and chose to seek vengeance when they could.

Sole! Give me that back!”

Sole proceeded to stuff the entire candy bar into their mouth, chocolate melting and staining around their lips. “Oo mean ‘is?”

Piper let out a despairing cry. “Sole, that was my last one! Not the gumdrops! Not the-!” She lunges forward, wrestling with Sole’s hands for control of the battered box of candy. Struggling to keep Sole from upturning the box and emptying it into their mouth, she lets out a desperate shout as the box tumbles from their hands, hitting the floor with the hard candies skidding across the ground. “What have you done!” she wails, falling to her knees.

Her dramatic gasps and sighs made Sole feel guilty enough to give up the box of Snack Cakes they’d also stolen.

Preston: It didn’t take much to make Preston protective. “No, Sole, don’t- Don’t touch that.” 

“Touch this?”  And it didn’t take much to make Sole want to mess with him.

“Ah… Yes, that. Please don’t- Sole. Sole, please, I’d really appreciate if you-”

“Yeah. I just really want to touch this right now. Thanks, Preston.”

“No, please, Sole-” Preston forcefully pulled Sole’s hands away from the rack of rifles. “Okay. Just, stand still. I need to put this up.” Preston turned around to put a box on a nearby shelf, and turned around to find Sole disappeared. “Sole?” he asked, almost helplessly.

Someone screamed out in the castle yard. Preston sprinted out to find Sole, somehow in a set of Power Armor, holding up a chunk of wires accidentally torn out of the castle radio tower. Sole’s voice, robotic from the Power Armor helmet, wafted over to Preston’s ears across the yard. “Oops?”

Preston had never taken drugs in his life, but during the course of his relationship with Sole, he seriously considered it multiple times.

Strong: We’ve discussed this. No teen survivor is gonna be carting around a giant fuckin’ mutie. Just no. Besides the fact that Sole would definitely not fight their way through a skyscraper full of mutants fives times their size, there’s no way they’re traveling with something that could eat them without stopping to chew. Nope. Fuck that.

… ‘Course, if the two ever did end up together, it might be interesting if Sole rode on Strong’s shoulders. Real intimidating vision, there.

X6-88: It’s unlikely they’d ever work together. Sole would be more of a liability than a benefit to X6, and X6 is a little too intense and intimidating for a young, hot-headed teen to work with. But if X6 got assigned to be Sole’s protection, for whatever reason, it’d be more frustrating than helpful.

“Can you untie me now? Fucker.”

“You have proven you can’t be trusted to walk around alone. Until we reach the next place of rest, you will have to remain constrained.”

Sole let out a long, tortured groan, drawing it out as long as possible, in the hopes of irritating the Courser in front of them. “I have to pee.”

“No, you do not.”

“You don’t know that! How do you know? Maybe I’m on the verge of pissing myself!”

“It is a classic escape tactic to ask for a bathroom break. As your protector, I’m obligated to keep you safe.”

“By making sure I don’t escape.”

X6 didn’t reply.


I had every intention of spending my day cheerfully lounging around in a pumpkin patch and petting miniature horses. I was in fact so excited for the day ahead that I even made one of these outfit layout thingies. I made myself breakfast, took this picture by standing on my tiptoes on an upturned suitcase at the foot of my bed, and then promptly got called in to work. It was a sad, pumpkin-less day indeed. 


summary: The one and only time Dan had ever looked up what was wrong with him, when he read the words ’anorexia nervosa’ he’d closed out of his browser window in less than a second, wiped his search history and left his computer off for two days. He didn’t have an eating disorder. He’s always been told that eating disorders are for skeletal runway models that puke up their lunches, and there’s no way that chubby, lazy Dan Howell could ever have an eating disorder.

Dan starts running earlier in the mornings and there’s a different barista at his favorite coffee shop who turns out to be exactly what he needs.

genre: angsty, hurt/comfort

words: 3,750 (that is so nice and even frick  yea)

warnings: eating disorder (includes disordered thoughts/behaviors/ect, mentions calories and restricting/starving/bingeing), general self hating, self harm (scratching) mentioned a few times but not depicted in much detail, swearing??

Read on AO3

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anonymous asked:

oh my!!! i love your writing so much!! i have your notifications on so i never miss out :) could you write a wolfstar where they're at a bookstore/library and one of them is just reading and the other stumbles into him :) i'm not sure if you've written anything like this please please

Remus liked to read books before he bought them. Not the whole book, just the first few chapters. A lot of books had amazing first chapters and then completely derailed around chapter three. Remus loved buying books but he hated buying books that he lost interest in because the characters became terrible.

He had to keep walking around because the clerk in the shop, Snape, liked to bother Remus, telling him he had to buy the book before he read it. It was a shame that this unruly man happened to work at Remus’ favorite books shop (favorite because of the selection and the atmosphere, not because of the staff. Although the man who owned the shop, Dumbledore, was perfectly pleasant.) 

Remus was engrossed in the book and wasn’t watching where he was going. He tripped over something large in the middle of the aisle and went arse over teakettle, sprawling onto the floor and dropping his book.

“Holy shit, mate, are you okay?” 

Remus rolled over onto his back and managed to sit up. “I think I’m fine,” he said, brushing himself off. “My apologies, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Oh, don’t worry about,” the man said, waving him off. “I probably shouldn’t be sitting here like this.” 

Remus cocked his head to the side and studied the stranger. He was a short man with long dark hair and a leather jacket. Good-looking in that effortless kind of way certain people had - like he just woke up in the morning looking gorgeous. Remus had no idea how he could have missed him in the first place. He was surrounded by books and wrapping paper. “What on Earth are you doing?”

The man chuckled. “Wrapping gifts, obviously.”

“Yes, obviously,” Remus said, blinking incredulously. “Any reason you’re doing it on the floor of a book shop?”

The man huffed. “It’s my Godson’s birthday and I forgot to get him something. Okay, not so much that I forgot that the thing I wanted to get him I was told wasn’t practical. So I was rebelling until today, when I realized I was going to show up to a five-year-olds birthday empty handed.”

Remus’ lips curled up into a smile. “What were you originally going to get him?”

The stranger ducked his head down. “An electric guitar.”

Remus burst out laughing. “Yes, I can see how that wouldn’t be the most sensible gift for a child.”

“You’ve got to learn young!” the stranger insisted. “Mozart was playing the piano when he was just four!” 

Remus stood up and went to retrieve his book. “So instead you’re getting him some books?”

The man shrugged. “Everyone likes books, right? Books are great when you’re a kid.”

“I think so, yes,” Remus said, giving him a reassuring smile. “They certainly were important to me growing up.”

“Good,” the man said, using the scissors to get the extra ribbon to curl with a flourish. 

“Well, good luck,” Remus said, finding his page in his book. 

“Hey wait,” the stranger said, standing up. “I just realized I have way more parcels than I could ever carry on my own. Any way I could bribe you to come along with me and carry some of these? I’ll buy your book for you and when we get there I’ll give you a piece of the birthday cake. So what do you say?”

Remus took in a deep breath as he composed himself. “Are you serious?”

The stranger grinned. “Absolutely.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on a little kid’s birthday party…” Remus said nervously. “After all, you don’t even know me.”

“You have an honest face,” the man said, picking up his gifts from the floor and handing a few of them over to Remus. 

“Hold on a second, did you pay for the books before you wrapped them?” Remus asked, studying the gifts in his hands. 

“Nope,” the man said, laughing, heading through the bookshelves towards the front door. “I hate the fucking clerk that works here. That guy is a twat.” 

“That doesn’t mean you should steal from his workplace,” Remus hissed, following after him quickly.

“And now you’re an accomplice,” the stranger said, turning around the wink at Remus. “Run!” 

The man took off towards the front door and Remus had no choice but to run after him. He didn’t feel right about the stealing but he also didn’t want to get caught. His heart was pounding as they crashed out the front door and sprinted down the sidewalk.

“You’re insane,” Remus said breathlessly, pressing his back against the wall of the alley they were hiding in, making sure Snape hadn’t followed them. 

“Damn right I am,” the stranger said, walking over with his arms full of gifts and capturing Remus’ lips. 

Remus was so startled that he nearly dropped the presents in his own hands. He could feel the surge of adrenaline rushing through his body as he kissed the stranger back. He wondered for a moment just what he was doing kissing a stranger in an alleyway after having just stolen some books.This was not Remus Lupin’s life.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” the stranger said, pulling back and smiling up at Remus. “And don’t worry, I know Dumbledore personally. I’ll send him some money in the mail. I just hate having to deal with Snape.”

Remus swallowed around the lump in his throat. “So was this some kind of test?”

“Nah,” the man said with a smirk. “It was pretty fun though.”

“Remus Lupin,” he said, shuffling the presents around so that he could stick his hand out. 

“Sirius Black,” he responded, shaking Remus’ hand. 

“I’m not sure if it’s nice to meet you,” Remus admitted.

Sirius chuckled. “I get that a lot,” he confessed, peeking out of the alley and deciding the coast was clear. They walked together for about five blocks and then turned into a residential neighborhood. “It’s just that one, there,” Sirius said, gesturing with his head towards a large white cottage with a stone wall around it. It looks homey and sweet with a front garden and little children running in and out, a lot of them red-haired and wild.

Remus walked behind Sirius, unsure of his place there. It seemed a bit off to be a twenty-five year old at the birthday party of a chid he didn’t know. Yet Sirius walked in so confidently that Remus couldn’t help keeping in step with him.

“Jamie!” Sirius called out, dumping his presents on the table with the others and hugging an attractive Desi man with wild hair and glasses. “This is Remus.”

Remus shuffled awkwardly under their twin gazes. Jamie was clearly looking Remus over, assessing him on behalf of his friend. Sirius was merely looking at him with a fond expression on his face. Remus remembered their kiss in the alleyway and felt himself blush.

“James Potter,” he said finally, holding out his hand. “Welcome to my son’s birthday party.”

“I’m so sorry to just show up like this,” Remus burst out before James had even finished speaking. “It’s just Sirius needed help carrying all the presents and he roped me into it and well he’s very difficult to say no to. He said he would give me a piece of cake but now that seems a bit inappropriate and I can get cake anywhere. I can leave if you want me to.”

James glanced over at Sirius. “I can see why you like him.”

“Oh, he fell for me right away,” Sirius joked, putting his arm around James’ shoulders. “Quite literally.”

James chuckled and shook his head. “Only you, Sirius,” he said in exasperation. “Come on then, Remus. If cake you were promised then cake you shall have.”

“Let them eat cake!” Sirius exclaimed, walking into the other room with James while Remus trailed behind them. 

In the living room a small boy was seated on the sofa that looked almost exactly like a miniature version of James except his eyes were green instead of hazel and the frames of his glasses round instead of square. He was surrounded by other children his age of a bit older. They seemed to be playing telephone with each child whispering to the one beside them. 

A red-haired woman came in with a tray of cheese and crackers, setting it on the coffee table in the center of the circle of children. Afterwards she walked out of the circle and came to stand beside James, Sirius and Remus. 

“Oh, hello, who is this?” she asked, glancing over at Remus as if she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to recognize him or not.

“Remus. He’s my date,” Sirius said proudly.

“Your date,” she echoed slowly. “You brought a date to my son’s fifth birthday?”

Sirius shrugged. “Not intentionally.”

“This is my wife, Lily,” James spoke up quickly. “The love of my life who has promised not to kill my best friend.”

“It’s a real struggle sometimes,” Lily said, giving Sirius a hard stare of disapproval. “Anyways, you’re welcome here, Remus.”

“Thank you,” Remus said politely. He wondered if he should make an excuse to leave. He was intruding on a family moment with people he didn’t know. He didn’t even know Sirius, the person he had come in with. One kiss did not exactly make them acquainted. 

Sirius slid over to Remus and laced their fingers together, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “See, you’re a hit already,” he said, beaming up at Remus. 

“I don’t think resignation to your antics counts as acceptance,” Remus informed him softly. “I should probably go.”

“No, don’t go,” Sirius begged, holding onto his hand tightly. “I want you here.”

“Why?” Remus asked. “We just met.”

Sirius sighed and placed his head on Remus’ shoulder. “Do you really want to know?”

“Of course.”

Sirius looked around and then led Remus outside to the backyard. There were two lawn chairs and they sat down side by side in them, their hands still connecting them. 

“So, Lily, James and I all went to school together,” Sirius began, tilting his head up and looking at the sky wistfully. “They fell in love and got married pretty soon after school. I love them both and they’ve done everything they could to include me - made me best man at their wedding and Harry’s godfather. And I love it. I love everything they let me be a part of but it’s still not the same, you know? They’ve got their own family, they’re this little unit together. They’ve been married for six years now and I’m still on my own. Sometimes it’s hard coming here and watching them be a family when I’ve got no one of my own.” 

Sirius tilted his head to the side to look at Remus. “Then today at the bookshop you crashed into me and it felt like sometime important was happening. I couldn’t just let you go on your way without seeing what this was - what it could be.”

Remus smiled. “You know you could have just asked for my number,” he teased, rubbing the inside of Sirius’ hand with his thumb. 

“I know,” Sirius said quietly. “I just didn’t want to face another one of Harry’s birthdays alone. I honestly never thought I’d get you here.”

“You had me intrigued,” Remus admitted. “And chocolate cake is my weakness.”

Sirius chuckled. “Good to know.” He got up from his chair and walked over, sliding onto Remus’ lap. “Is there any chance you’re feeling even a fraction of what I am?”

Remus studied him for a moment. staring into those grey eyes as if transfixed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he said, his voice gone hoarse. He pulled his hand away from Sirius’ in favor of tangling it in Sirius’ hair and kissing him fiercely. Sirius smiled against his lips and then began to kiss him back.

“Oi, you two!” James called from the back door. “We’re about to sing happy birthday. Get off your arses and get in here!” 

They broke the kiss and Remus found he couldn’t stop smiling as Sirius slid off his lap and held out his hand. “I promised you cake, didn’t I?” he asked with a smile of his own.

“That you did,” Remus said, taking his hand. 

pinkdiamondsu  asked:

The pink matriarch stared in silence and awe at the smaller, white, human - she has such pretty hair. Ragyo almost looked a miniature human version of White Diamond..Was this lady really human? In thoughts so deep she likely hadn't realized she'd been staring curiously at the other for a good solid five minutes as she looked down toward the other.

Ragyo just smiled while motioning away her servants with her eyes now glancing back at the much larger and pink being behind her. Her smirk now emerging. An another space rock she has to deal with she would think to herself, noticing its not an another yellow this time.

Slowly did the woman begin to hover and fly off to her, her arms now crossed as she addresses herself towards Pink Diamond.

“Pink Diamond I assume?” 

The woman asked, her rainbow aura glowing like a goddess…

‘Til Death Do Us Part

*sees talk about MSA and marriage*

*aggressively headcanons something similar, but not the same*

In other words, I’ve seen some speculation on whether or not Lewis and Vivi might’ve been married before Lewis died. I’ve decided that my preferred answer to this question is “almost, but not quite”. Grab some tissues, because it’s gonna be a long, feelsy ride.

Keep reading

*Cropped the picture to only show the necessary portion. ^^

*Sorry Eva, I tried my best to make this sad. I don’t think it happened… >.<?

*This was supposed to be my additional entry for EreMika Week (Prompt: Birthday)… but my muse left me so this is almost three weeks too late. Sorry ;_;


He should be happy – jumping with joy, pure bliss in his heart, nothing but smiles on his face.

He should.


Eren picks up the small bundle of innocence in his arms and for a moment, as his finger tries to caress the baby’s cheek, his chest aches on why (goddammit why me?!) he had to go through such a painful experience-


His wife should be here – changing the diapers, nursing the baby, putting the child to sleep. She should be here to support him, to teach him on how to properly carry their babe, to berate him for his unneeded panics whenever a loud cry escapes the nursery as she says with a spatula in one hand, ‘Eren! Stop that. She’s only hungry you know?’ or ‘Daddy’s such a worrywart’.

She should be here so that he could show her how much he loves her, how much he cherishes her, how much he thanks her for giving him the most beautiful daughter in the world.

She should.

Mikasa should.

“Ne, little Eva, does mommy ever play with you while I’m sleeping?” he asks his child who replies with a melodious laugh.

“She does, right? Because she’s an angel… I wonder what she tells you. I bet it’s about how you should kick daddy’s ass if ever he screws up – big time.”

Eren lifts his baby and the child beams (with her excited emerald eyes) at her father. Little Eva is almost like a miniature Mikasa – minus the eyes and sunshine personality, that Eren couldn’t help but wonder if their daughter would take after his potty mouth once she grows up.

“There,” he says, placing his daughter on the crib. “I can’t believe you’re turning one in a few hours.”

The child stares at him as if trying to tell her father, ‘It’s all right Daddy, I’m sure Mommy’s happy as well.’

“I think your mother timed your birthday with hers so I can never forget the date.”

Little Eva reaches out her hands and Eren gently holds it.

“Like… how she timed her goodbye with her hello…”

His daughter laughs at him with her legs swinging in the air.

“Hm… How about I sing you a song?”

A hum immediately comes out of him, soft and solemn, like a mirror reflecting his heart.

Mikasa, I terribly miss you.

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Miniature Tigers
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Day 6: I’m going to try to keep up, really. Since I’m about a week away from going back home, here’s this song that kerimeaway, the bestest friend on Earth, showed me c: Can’t wait to go out and do things with you when I get home. Ah, and I must mention brittnaynayy because Brittany and Keri saw them in concert!


Here’s an illustration I did of composer Benjamin Britten for the current issue of The New Republic magazine. The article talks about how Britten’s work created a sense of intimacy and preciousness, so the idea was to have Britten interacting with miniature, almost doll-like versions of characters from the Metropolitan Opera’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which is based on Britten’s operatic interpretation of Shakespeare’s play. The final illustration has Britten’s jacket opening up like curtains to reveal the Met’s unique set for this production while various characters hang out around Britten. Thanks to Annie Jen for AD-ing!

PS: I think in the iPad version of the magazine, the stars are animated, though I can’t confirm it myself. If anybody happens to have a mobile subscription, let me know if they ended up getting animated!