because the other one was set days ago

anonymous asked:

Your tim angst is killing me, could you write maybe some comfort for him?? and like red robin!tim not robin tim if you are up for it

Um. I tried? This was supposed to be a short and sweet moment with Bruce checking up on Tim but some angst managed to creep in anyway. (In hindsight, Bruce probably wasn’t the best choice for purely fluffy comfort…)

On a side note, awkward dad Bruce is my favourite kind of Bruce.

Bruce shifts his grip on the plastic bags in his hand and knocks on the door. He tries not to fidget while he waits, smoothing down the material of his suit jacket and telling himself it’s because it’s creased from hours sitting behind a desk, but by the time the door finally cracks open it’s taking conscious willpower not to straighten his tie or readjust his cuffs. 

“Hi,” he says.

Tim blinks at him. His hair is mussed, eyes half-lidded, jacket and tie gone, top buttons undone, but still in his suit from WE. Probably woken from a nap by the knocking. Bruce feels a thin shiver of guilt about that (to add to the many, many other things he feels guilty about). “Hi,” the teen replies, almost wary in the way his eyes flicker over Bruce’s face and down to the bag in his hand. “Did I forget something?”

As though Bruce can’t show up at his son’s apartment just to visit without an ulterior motive. "No. I just thought I’d drop by, see how you’re dong.“ He hefts the plastic bags a little higher. “I brought dinner.”

“Oh.” Tim’s nose scrunches slightly, lips moving to form some silent question that Bruce would put money on being “why?” But he just takes a step back and pulls the door further open, a belated invitation accompanying the gesture. “Sorry it’s kind of messy, I’ve been a bit busy lately…”

Empty words to fill an awkward gap, because the apartment isn’t messy at all. Bruce moves through the living area to set the bags of takeout on the breakfast bar of the open-plan kitchen and notes nothing more than an empty coffee mug, Tim’s laptop and a precarious stack of paperwork on the coffee table to indicate that a young adult teenager even lives there. “It’s fine,” he says anyway. “Taking in Jason desensitised me to mess.”

Tim smiles at the joke, but it’s forced, and the way his head dips and shoulders tense looks like he’s trying to sink into himself. Bruce winces; Tim’s always been a little funny about Jason, quick to defend him but even quicker to shy away from anything resembling banter.

“Where do you keep your plates?” he hurries to ask. His turn to cover the ensuing awkward pause with inane chatter Tim slips past him, the whisper of his clothing barely brushing Bruce’s back, and pulls out two plates and two sets of cutlery. They work in silence to serve out the Indian dishes and it’s only once they’re sitting on the couch with the TV chattering away with a news report that Bruce finally clears his throat to break it.

“So how’s work?”

Tim snorts. He swallows his mouthful then spears another forkful of butter chicken and rice before asking, “You really want to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Bruce.” Tim sighs. He sets his fork down with a clatter then turns to give Bruce his full, incredulous attention. “We work in the same place. We saw each other four hours ago. In fact, we see each other almost every day. Do I need to continue? Because I can make a list, starting with the fact that you never make small talk. And you never invite yourself around with takeout. And you never-”

“Tim.” All it takes is that one, firmly spoken word for his second youngest’s jaw to snap shut, for him to turn away to glare out the window as though it will alleviate his frustration and confusion. Bruce sets his own fork down so he can run a hand through his hair. “I know I’m not the best at… all of this-” He can’t quite see his face, but he’s pretty sure Tim rolls his eyes at that. “-but I’ve been back for several months now and I feel like I haven’t seen you at all outside of WE, and that’s hardly the place to properly ask how you’ve been.”

What with walls with eyes and employees with ears, eager for any tidbit of gossip about anyone with the last name Wayne. Any casual allusion to their nighttime activities is treated with the utmost caution; even if Tim had cracked ribs or a bullet wound, he wouldn’t dare to say it. And it’s not like Bruce can just check for himself since Brucie is just a bumbling, oblivious billionaire not a world class, analytical detective.

“I’ve been fine,” Tim says eventually. His eyes dart toward Bruce before dropping down to stare at his plate. “Sorry,” he adds a second later. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” Bruce interrupts. “It’s just…” I miss you. "Even though you’re not technically under my care anymore, I still worry.“

Tim is biting his lip, still staring at his plate. Silence stretches between them for the third time and Bruce is beginning to think he’s made some kind of mistake when he hears a soft, “Thank you.” And when Tim lifts his chin to meet his gaze, his smile is real. “For dinner and…”

Bruce squeezes his shoulder. “Anytime.” On the TV, the intro for some new reality TV show is playing, an upbeat melody to offset the more serious mood in the apartment. Bruce clears his throat, “Now, how about a movie?”

Tim’s posture relaxes, eyes lighting up as he suggests, “The Princess Bride?”

“Sounds good.”

And when Nightwing taps on the window a few hours later to see if either of them are going to be patrolling that night, Bruce waves him away. He smiles down at the teen sleeping against his shoulder, brushing back his unruly hair and dropping a kiss on the top of his head. The slight movement dislodges Tim enough that he slips forward, head coming to rest against his adoptive father’s neck. Bruce tightens his hold around his shoulders and Tim sighs softly, curling against his chest. He’s surely going to have a crick in his neck in the morning if he sleeps sitting upright but Bruce finds he doesn’t care, more than willing to suffer a little pain if it means providing comfort to his son.


On Memorial Day 2017, I would like to celebrate by looking back at our very first fallen veterans. In the 1860s, Revolutionary War veterans were beginning to disappear for good. Wanting to capture their photographs one last time for history to remember, one photographer set out to photograph the very last survivors he could find alive. This tiny set of 7-8 pictures is all that we have left of this remarkable generation. Some of these men were there at the battles of Lexington and Concord, one was a drummer boy for General Washington himself, and others fought and suffered injuries for their service; all of this nearly 240 years ago! Please reblog to share these little seen photographs because I honestly think Americans need and deserve to see their history with their own eyes in order to even begin to comprehend how real it was.

“The Final Problem” didn’t confirm that James Moriarty is Dead but it might have just confirmed that he’s Alive

I know. We’re all upset. We’re bothered. We’re hurt. “The Final Problem” didn’t go the way we wanted it to. I despised the episode the first time I watched it. I loathed it the second time I watched it. But the third time, well, the third time was different. 

James Moriarty is alive. “The Final Problem” isn’t the end of his plan. It’s the beginning. 

What I’ve complied will hopefully make this episode make sense. 

Here are the topics I’m going to discuss, in detail:

  • What is Eurus’ grand plan? And why and how would Moriarty help her with that? 
  • What’s the significance of Eurus telling Moriarty “Redbeard”?
  • What is Moriarty’s “Final Problem”?
  • The Flashback scene gives the writers credibility when they bring Moriarty back in Series 5
  • Why would Moriarty say “This is a recorded message” and why would Eurus mention that Jim is dead?
  • Who was Eurus’ and Culverton Smith’s mutual friend? 
  • What is the meaning of the number 13 on Mycroft’s fridge?
  • Who hacked all of the tv screens in London?
  • This episode gave us no new evidence that Moriarty is dead; some recorded videos and a character saying it. We’ve all seen this before. 
  • If “The Final Problem” is over, why record Andrew Scott as Moriarty, implying that we haven’t seen the last of him?

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That’s My Girl (Grayson)

Summary: You’re a famous author struggling to meet the deadline for your latest book, until your husband helps you recall a memory the two of you share, inspiring you to finish. 

Word Count: 2,675

Warnings: None; an occasional curse word.

Author’s Note: Anything written in italics involves a flashback the reader (Y/N) is having. Also, for the full effect of this one shot, listen to “Gracie’s Theme” by Paul Cardall while reading. It’s a beautiful song that I listened to on repeat while writing this. Please enjoy! Requests are open!

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

Your fingers fly furiously across the keyboard of your laptop, working at lightning speed to finish the manuscript that’s due to your publisher by tomorrow afternoon. As an author with six novels to your name, deadlines weren’t unfamiliar to you, but you have never found yourself struggling to string together a book the way you have been with this one. Thrillers, mysteries, those were your forte, and those were the genres that got you nominated for a Pulitzer Prize last winter. However, when your publisher approached you with the idea of taking a break from fiction to produce a memoir for your readers, you were more than hesitant. Sure, you were placed in extraordinary circumstances after graduating college with a literature degree, but you didn’t find yourself to be extraordinary. Eventually, you caved, but you found that writing about yourself was a lot harder than it sounded. Why was it so much easier to make up stories about other people than it was to tell the truth about yourself?

A knock on the door of the master bedroom pulls you from your trance-like state, and you direct your attention to the sound, finding your husband peeking his head in the door frame and looking at you with curious eyes.

“Am I interrupting the artist’s work on her latest masterpiece?”

You giggle and motion for him to join you on the California king bed where you’re propped up against the headboard, a couple of fluffy pillows acting as a barrier between your backside and the cold wood. The mattress underneath you shifts as he throws one leg over onto the bed, and then the other, crawling on all fours until the right side of his body is butted up against your left. You sign heavily and lower the screen, throwing it off to the side before placing your cheek on his shoulder and softly stroking his forearm with your thumb.

“Some artist I am tonight, Gray. I’ve never cut a deadline this close before, and the crunch time is not motivating me whatsoever. Everything I type sounds like absolute shit when I read it back… It’s dry, it’s uneventful, and I’ve hit a lull after talking about the experience of getting my first novel published. I don’t want to submit this low-quality work tomorrow. I’m half-temped to call and ask for another extension.” The words make you cringe the moment they leave your lips; if you did such a thing, it would be the third extension you asked for on the manuscript.

A low chuckle escapes Grayson’s body, causing your head to move up and down with the jarring of his shoulders. “Well, there goes our mortgage payment for next month.”

You look up at him with narrow eyes, only to have his lips graze your forehead tenderly. “Sweetheart, relax. I’m the last person putting pressure on you. You know that.”

You did know that. The past couple of weeks, Grayson has kept his distance, letting you lose yourself in your work with minimal interruptions aside from the occasional reminder to eat (Your readers are probably not fond of how Y/N’s writing sounds when she’s hangry), sleep (The writer’s block will clear in the morning, love), and take a breath of fresh air (A walk will do you some good, come take one with me). Ever since the beginning of your relationship, his ability to gauge when you need him close and when you need him to disappear into the background has been impeccable, and you haven’t taken it for granted in the almost-five years you’ve been married.

Grayson’s fingertips touch the silver wedding band on your ring finger, and you hold your hand up in response, letting the low spotlighting in the bedroom refract off the small stones. Because you rarely wear jewelry (aside from the nose piercing you gifted yourself on your eighteenth birthday so many years ago), Grayson knew to pick a simple engagement ring, one with a single oval diamond in the center of the set. The band he chose to put on your finger the day of your ceremony, however, was more his taste: slightly more extravagant and covered in bling. The engagement ring and the band complimented each other well, though, and when the two of you went to get them welded together, you couldn’t help but notice how the rings mirrored your relationship; you were both opposites who seemed destined to always belong with each other.

Your voice drops just above a whisper. “It’s still beautiful after all this time, isn’t it?”

“God, it is… Every time I look at that thing, it brings me right back to the day I proposed. I was so nervous, I could barely walk in a straight line. The box was burning a hole in my coat pocket for hours.”

You lean forward and grab the pillows behind your back, laying them flat against the mattress to rest your head on. Grayson shimmies down next you, reaching to take a fistful of comforter bunched up at the foot of the bed and drapes it gently over the both of you as you shift to face each other. His forehead meets yours and he takes both of your hands in his, holding them close to his chest. This was the position you both took each time you reminisced about your relationship, and you urged him to tell the story again. A huge smile breaks out onto his face and he complies, because this is a story he never grows tired of telling.

“I took you back to where it all began, remember? It was in the vast, breathtaking, dense woods where I fell in love with you. It was when were there the first time that I knew one day, I was going to ask you to be mine forever.”

You close your eyes, recalling that place with ease:

Grayson took you camping on your first date together, but instead of opting to rent out a plot of land on a campsite for the weekend, he wanted to take you far away from the bright lights and the constant buzzing that was always surrounding your lives. The both of you were younger, more naïve, and your first novel had just sold over one million copies. Before the date, you were instructed to layer up, lace on some hiking books, bring a warm sleeping bag, and leave the rest up to him. He showed up at your apartment in a pick-up truck on a Friday afternoon, the bed already packed full of supplies and gear you would need for the weekend and told you to relax as he drove for hours, each mile taking you farther and farther way from civilization.

 You looked over at Grayson, taking in his profile for a moment before crossing your legs underneath yourself. “Do you mind telling me where we’re going?”

Grayson smirked and turned his head to meet your eyes. “Don’t worry, our destination still has cell service, so you can call someone to come and pick you up if you get tired of me.”

“I’m not concerned about getting tired of you. I’m concerned about coming home from this date in a body bag, or bags, depending on if you like your victims in tact or not.”

Your response elicited a loud cackle from him; he glanced over his shoulder before clicking on his turn signal and changing highway lanes while the sound radiated from his body. You closed your eyes. That beautiful sound would never be something you’d get used to.

“Are writers always this imaginative? The thought of something that horrific never even crossed my mind.”

“Comes with the territory,” you shrugged. “But to be sure, you have actually read my book, right?”

“Why do you think I kept bugging you on social media until you’d talk to me?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know I’ve started working on my second one.”

Grayson let out a small squeal. “Wow, I am glad. Let me know when you’re done with your first copy. I want to be the first one to read it before it’s even submitted for editing.”

“I wanted everyone to witness it. My family, your family, everyone.” Grayson’s voice brings you back to the present, forcing you to open your eyes. “They were there for hours before us, adjusting cameras, building the fire, even meticulously laying down the path of white orchids.”

“My favorite flowers,” you mutter.

“I know. Now they’re my favorite, too.”

“I can’t believe it went off without a hitch.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

The scene for the proposal looked like something only from your wildest dreams. It took Grayson weeks to plan it all, you would find out later, and he was able to finesse your two younger sisters and parents to help set it all up in tandem with his brother, sister, and parents. You hadn’t been to the camping spot since your first date, and it was his suggestion to make another weekend trip to the woods in celebration of three years of dating. Night just began to fall, but it wasn’t the sunset that made you gasp as Grayson turned the car off the highway and onto the dirt path that led to your spot. Rather, it was the paper lanterns strung far along the branches of tall pine trees and the white orchids laid out, concealing the brown dust on the ground.

“What is all of this?” You inquire, climbing out of the car, Grayson following close behind.

Soft, melodic music began to play out from speakers tucked somewhere among the thick brush. A crisp breeze danced around your body, rustled the trees, and caused you to shiver; you pulled your wool trench coat closer to your body and buttoned it up to your collar to prevent anymore wind from climbing down the front of your body. Grayson, clad in jeans, Doc Martens, a thick black scarf, and a trench coat of his own, reached for your hand and slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. You reached across the front of your body to grab his bicep with your other hand and the two of you set forward on the path, lightly marching to the tempo of the music, careful to not destroy any of the flowers underneath your feet.

“This is all for you, my love. I wanted to find an unforgettable way of celebrating the last three years of our lives together.”

“So naturally, you brought us back to the place we fell in love…”

“…But I spruced it up a bit,” he finished your thought for you. “You’ll see what I mean.”

“I already do see what you mean,” you scoffed in amazement, motioning to the lanterns before placing your hand back on Grayson’s arm. “This is breathtaking.”

“I just wanted it to resemble you.”

You rolled your eyes before breaking out in a toothy grin. Cheesy compliments always made you cringe, but with the amount of work Grayson put into the presentation of this date, you let it side. He was always doing that, finding a way to work reminders of how beautiful he thought you were into every conversation you had with him, and even though you shrugged them off as they came in an attempt to remain modest, they truly touched you every time you heard one.

The two of you continued to walk along the path, hand in hand, your eyes constantly scanning your surroundings in awe, Grayson’s eyes on you, elated his plan was working. After a few minutes, he reached over with his free hand to brush away stray hairs that fell into your eyes as you began to hum the melody of the new song that began playing from the speakers. “This is one of my absolute favorites. I listen to this song on repeat when–“

“When you get a new idea for a book, I know,” he cut you off. “Actually, this is perfect timing, because I only want your favorite songs to be connected to your favorite memories, and here’s to hoping this is the best memory yet… Because we’re finally here…”

Grayson steps behind you to give you a complete view of the made over camping spot that was nestled behind a small bending of the thick trees, and a loud exhale escaped from your lungs. An enormous bonfire the size of a teepee burned in the center of the space, casting a red glow on your surroundings. Smaller candles were lit and placed around the perimeter, boulders rolled behind them to ensure the flame wouldn’t fall and catch the foliage on fire. More white orchids were placed on the ground, and the trees above twinkled with blinking lights, smaller and more vibrant than the paper lanterns on the trail behind you. Your favorite part of the view, however, was the cliff edge that sat over the river, giving way to the hues of pink, orange, and purple that swirled in the sky.

“Gray,” you muttered, releasing your hand from his and taking a step forward to pace around the fire. “You did all of this? When? How?”

The music from the speakers picked up and sounds of violins cascaded through the air, forcing you to choke back sobs. The atmosphere, the décor, the sunset, everything was picturesque, almost from out of a movie. You couldn’t believe someone cared about you enough to do this for you.

“Well, I don’t want to take all the credit. I enlisted the help of a few workers.” Your back was turned away from him at this point, hands in your coat pockets, staring out into the open abyss. “There’s no way I could have pulled something like this off all on my own.”

“Workers? What kind of workers?” The smell of the fire filled your nostrils and you took a deep breath, wanting to remember everything about this moment forever.

“Ones who love you almost as much as I do.” You could hear his voice getting closer with every word, but by the end of his phrase the sound suddenly fell to the ground, as if he had dropped it on accident. Befuddled, you turned around, lowering your eyes to the dirt before involuntarily throwing your palms over your mouth with a loud yelp.

“Y/N, every day I spend with you feels like something from a dream. I cannot believe that I was able to steal the heart of someone as magnificent and exquisite as you. Your intellect, creativity, and tenderness constantly amaze me. I don’t deserve you, I really don’t, but I’d love to spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you that I do… God, you’re so much better with words than I am, but I’ve been holding onto these four little ones since our first night out here: Will you marry me?”

“And just like that,” you breathe, “you were kneeling on the ground, holding the ring, waiting for me to stop sobbing long enough to give you a response.”

Grayson let go of your hands and placed his palm on your cheek, rubbing the high planes with his thumb. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

“I don’t even think I said ‘yes.’ I think I just looked at you and told you that I actually saw what you meant before grabbing the ring and putting on myself. And then our families startled me half to death, running out from behind the trees with cameras, hooting and hollering before swinging us around in glee.”

“Well, who could blame them? Marrying you was all they heard me talk about since the moment I met you.”

You smile, suddenly realizing that the best moments of your life actually took place after your first novel was published. Sitting up, you grab the laptop, opening up your latest word document before glancing back over at Grayson, who lay watching you.

“Hey, Gray, thanks. I might actually finish this thing tonight because of you.”

Grayson winks before reaching to scroll through his phone. “That’s my girl.”

Last Minute Romance

Simon Lewis/Jace Wayland
Rating: G, Word Count: 1561
Fluff, Valentine’s Day, Established Relationship, POV Jace

Read on AO3

For Jimon Week Day 2: Valentine’s Day

Jace loves going a round with the punching bag. He gets to do all the hitting, and he doesn’t need to think. He just lets his muscle memory do its thing, while his mind clears itself of any pent-up aggression and frustration.

‘I should watch you train more often. This is a good look on you.’

Jace smiles and huffs out a laugh. ‘Red and smelling?’ he asks, turning to his boyfriend.

‘I mean half-naked and sweaty,’ Simon grins. He pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against and is instantly by Jace’s side. ‘Hey,’ he whispers.


Jace leans in for a kiss, closing his eyes when Simon’s hands slide into his hair.

‘Ah, gross!’ Simon whines. He pulls his hand out of Jace’s hair. ‘I changed my mind. Being sweaty is disgusting, please take a shower.’

Jace opens his eyes to Simon grabbing the sweatshirt that’s lying next to Jace’s water bottle, and wiping his hands on it.

‘I did tell you.’

‘Yeah. Here,’ Simon throws him the shirt. ‘To wipe that smug look off your face.’

Jace pulls on the shirt, and Simon tosses him the water bottle next, just a little faster than necessary. Jace winks when he catches it without fumbling.

‘Any plans for tonight?’ Simon asks.

‘It’s pretty quiet out. Just standard patrols, and I’m not assigned to any of them, so no. You wanna go do something?’

‘That’s why I came by,’ Simon says. There’s a smile on his lips, but Jace can’t help but think it’s just a little bit too bright.

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Reach Up, Grab the Chain

Written for @chargetransfer, who asked for Foggy watching Matt at the gym.

Donate to the ACLU and get fic!

There was a smell at Fogwell’s that rubbed damply against the inside of the windows and lolled out of open doors like a tongue. Inside, the air had a sort of texture, like all the exhales made by all the fighters like Matt–grunts of exertion, cries of victory, sighs of defeat–never quite dissipated, but hung thickly around in the rafters.  

Foggy had a lever-arch binder open on his lap, a pen in one hand, and an empty paper coffee cup balanced on the face-down pages. He was before a judge in a measly three days, and his trial strategy amounted to little more than pointing at the rich douchebag suing their client, his former housecleaner, and saying, “asshole say what?” So while Matt hit the heavy-bag, Foggy did some legal heavy-lifting.

Foggy had a weird relationship with Matt’s gym time. On the one hand, it took him away from the office and made their respective workloads ever more imbalanced. There were days Foggy didn’t even go to the bathroom because the hits kept coming, and Matt somehow made time to exercise. On the other hand, it helped keep Matt alive when he was out on the streets. It was work–just not billable work.

On yet another (possibly mutant) hand, while it was good for Matt’s continued health and well-being, it was terrible for Foggy’s because it was 3D, surround sound, high-definition, hardcore porn.

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Name of Love

Request: I miss your robbie kay imagines 😥 if you want to, please 🙂 can you do one where Robbie is blind and the reader (his gf) is a singer. Robbie is really insecure (about his blindness + relationship with the reader) so the reader conforted him by singing “Name of Love” by Martin Garrix ? I love your fluffy imagines 😍

Warnings: OOC Robbie, blindness

Name of Love - Martin Garrix

Something was wrong with Robbie. He was struggling a lot. You and him both knew that this relationship would be different and difficult from the very start. Robbie was blind. He had an accident one day when on set that made him lose his vision. He could barely see out of one eye, but other than that he couldn’t see anymore. 

When you and him got together a few months ago, he was so insecure. You were a famous singer, and he used to be a famous actor. But now he was basically nobody, or so he thought. He still had fans, still had love. But he was so insecure now because of his sudden disability. It threw him completely off.

“Robbie, talk to me,” you begged. He had been acting different, but wasn’t talking about it.

“No. There’s nothing to talk about.”

You searched for something to say. It killed you to see him this way. “Okay… then how’s your day been?”

“How’s my day been? I don’t know! I’ve done nothing, I can’t see a bloody thing!” He snapped.

You flashed a look of hurt at him. With his small amount of vision left, he could faintly see the expression. He frowned even more. 

“I’m sorry, love… I’m just… I don’t know. I’m not happy with myself.” He sighed, looking at you. “I’m so scared that you’re going to leave me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I know it’s been a few months, but they’ve been the best ever… I’m afraid.”

“Rob, there’s no need to be afraid or scared. I love you for you. I love you because you’re so sweet and kind. You’re amazing, Robbie.”

“I love you, too,” he simply replied. He then got up, setting up his walking stick. He claimed he was going to bed despite it being rather early still.

You sighed. He was still upset, still nervous. You knew you had to do something. But what? Of course, music popped right into your mind. You had to write a song for him. To prove that you truly loved him and you weren’t going anywhere. You instantly got to writing.

About a week passed, and you felt like the song was ready. It was the quickest you had ever written a song. Everything came to you with ease, however. It was all on the tip of your tongue, and you jotted the words down so smoothly. Writing the music was a little harder, as you wanted the melody to flow with the words. You wanted it to be perfect.

“Y/N, what have you been doing this past week? You’ve seemed… busier.” Robbie hesitated, nervous that you were distancing yourself.

“You’ll see, Rob,” you giggled. Tonight was the night you were going to perform it for him.

Robbie didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He was so anxious and insecure. It was destroying him. You prayed this song would help him feel better.

Later that day, after you were done working, you sat Robbie on the couch. You two had just finished dinner. You thought it was the perfect time.

“What are you doing?” 

“Uh, I wrote this new song. And I want you to be the first to hear it.”

Robbie’s eyes widened a little. Him being the first to hear your newest song meant so much to him. You got to strumming your guitar, singing.

If I told you this was only gonna hurt; if I warned you that the fire’s gonna burn, would you walk in? Would you let me do it first? Do it all in the name of love…

You sang it so beautifully. This acoustic version made it so sound lovely to Robbie’s ears. He even teared up at some of the lyrics. You could only smile though as you sang. He was loving it. Maybe he even got the hint it was meant for him. 

“Y/N.. that was so beautiful. Your best song yet.” Robbie grinned, looking down.

“You think so?” You smirked. “Because I made it for you.”

His head perked up, tears once again visible in his eyes. “Really?” 

“Of course. I thought it was time to make a song about you. You mean a lot to me. It my first song about a significant other.”

Robbie was speechless, not knowing what to say. His tears spilled over as he cried. His face crumbled, he was so happy. The song made him feel so alive. He hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. 

“Where are you?” He asked, voice becoming hoarse.

“I’m right here.” You set your guitar down, sitting next to him on the couch. 

You both embraced, hugging one another tightly. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, knowing he really liked it when you did that. His head rested on your chest. 

“I love you so much.” He sobbed.

“I love you, too,” you grinned. You were trying not to cry, but failed. “So much.”

Robbie lifted his head off you, wiping some of his tears. He looked directly at you, leaning in for a kiss. You kissed him back, so much love being in the kiss. The song had worked, and Robbie felt so much better. It made you so happy, knowing he was feeling okay.

A thing I wrote almost a year ago but never uploaded because bleh, it was too short, rushed, unfinished and english is just my second language so I have no clue what I’m doing. If someone wants to pick up the rough idea and write it out, please go ahead~

3000 Years and 2 Dimensions

Set wasn’t one to be easily impressed, but Atem managed to gain more than just his loyalty. They challenged, but also respected each other, forming a deep bond over the years.  
“Promise me to take care, my pharaoh“, he said on that fateful day. But the odds were against them.
Set held him, while Atem’s eyes slowly fell close. Their hands connected, holding the millennium puzzle weakly between them. Atem had sealed the evil inside the puzzle, and with it, his own soul.
A sorrowful growl escaped him while clinging to the lifeless body of his dear friend. He would see him again. If not in this lifetime, he’d wait for as long as it takes.

~ ~ ~

Set’s soul wandered on earth for many years on. The circle of life had him reincarnate into countless bodies in various lands during different times.

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anonymous asked:

Do you have any tips on how to hang out with friends after college?

Oh man, that is a great question! And one I don’t know if I have a good answer for, honestly. Adult friendships are weird, but they’re also better I think. I’m still dealing with how to make friends period after college. I’m almost a full year into being an “adult”, so take everything I say with a grain of salt, but here’s what I’ve learned so far:

1. a lot of people say that having friends as an adult is impossible. Those people are only halfway right. It’s definitely doable, but it does become difficult. Mainly because of people’s schedules. For example, most of my friends still work at Gamestop, so they work either mornings or evenings, until 9:30 or later. I work 7-4, generally, so doing stuff after 10pm is not something I enjoy doing all the time. Not that I ever sleep, but I still like to be in bed by midnight. You have to learn to work around people’s schedules, and recognize that hanging out every night just isn’t gonna happen that often anymore. And that’s unfortunate.

2. “Events” don’t happen as often anymore. This is both good and bad! The bad part is that you start to do things less frequently. The good part is that you start to appreciate when they do happen. For example, most of my friends got together tonight to go to Dave and Busters for one of their birthdays. We had organized this a few weeks ago to make sure that we all set aside the time, and it was SO MUCH FUN. It was hella expensive, but I’m glad that we all got to go. We also get together every other Friday for drinks and an evening just to hang out as a group. Planning ahead becomes more of a thing, and that’s something I’m still not really all that used to haha.

3. You have to accept the fact that just because you don’t talk every day doesn’t mean you aren’t friends. You’re going to be an adult - adults are busy. That doesn’t mean you don’t make time for those you care about, but it does mean your schedule gets more packed. I have group chats going with my friends, but sometimes I go days without talking to or seeing some of them. That’s okay! It happens. I have a couple friends that don’t live close to me that I go months without talking to, but would still consider them best friends of mine because when we do see each other, it’s like they never left. My best friend is in the Air Force and I haven’t talked to him since October. That stinks, but I know it’s all good because when he comes into town it’s not awkward. We just have been friends that long.

4. This is the one that sucks: some people are going to exit your life, and there’s just no way around that. Some people weren’t that close to you to begin with. Some people feel like not seeing you every day means that you aren’t besties. Some people break your heart. It happens. Being an adult sucks sometimes. But at the end of the day, the people that stick around mean more than anyone else because they put up with everything, despite it all.

5. This may or may not be for you, but I’m a gamer. I stay in touch with friends by playing things with them. Overwatch, League of Legends, COD4, Halo Wars 2, Mass Effect Andromeda, these are all things I play with friends. One of my best friends is moving to another state at the end of the week, and all I’m going to have left is online multiplayer. That’s life. It sucks, but you take what you can get

I’m not sure if I even remotely answered your question! Or if this is what you meant by it. But basically - maintaining friendships after college and as an adult becomes exactly that: something you have to maintain. It’s not as easy as it was when you’re around each other and have all the free time in the world (relatively speaking), but that’s what makes adult friendships better than college friendships: you start to appreciate those who take time out of their lives to spend time with you. They could be doing what a lot of adults do - toiling away at their job and doing nothing but going between work and home.

anonymous asked:

oh buddy you might not be mad but I sure as hell am! there is no way in all hell that Sana can go from what happened 2 days ago to this. friends don't let other friends get to their lowest points because they refuse to respond/reachout and if they do then they don't get over it like that. i hate the way this whole complication has been set up - as if Sana is the only one to blame and the problematic/unkind/unthoughtful things the girls did before has been washed away. anyways, love you bloo x

Originally posted by usedpimpa

Yes, agreed! It all needs addressed and the sooner the better. You know, along with everything else that doesn’t make sense. Like Yousef not going outside when all his best friends were in a fight and instead kissing Noora when he’s absolutely in love with Sana, Isak suddenly being so jealous he’d hit Mikael, the fact Sana assumed her brother and his friends were homophobic and took so long to find out that wasn’t the case… etc etc. Oh what a mess. Also, love you too anon! <3

The Djinn Bottle

by Cymoril_Melnibone

I was born two years before the first great war.
My father was, of course, conscripted to fight across the sea against Germany – where he lost his life in some bloody conflict on foreign soil. This left my mother to raise myself and my two sisters on her own, something which was very difficult in those times.
By the time I was twelve, I had two part-time jobs and no time for school; I considered myself a young man – my father’s replacement, if you like – and books, letters and numbers only concerned me if they facilitated more money in my threadbare pockets.
Our family struggled. My mother sought to remarry, but men were in short supply after the war; nor did any man care to burden himself with three children when he could find a woman with none.
Yet somehow we survived. I learned to exist on as little sleep as possible, often less than four hours a night, which meant I could work longer hours and more jobs.
By the time I saw my sixteenth year on this earth, I had secured a good job in the mines, where I could use my considerable strength to great advantage.
But then the Great Depression hit us.

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anonymous asked:

i don't think you guys should recruit any new members.... (unless all the current 5 are in agreement) this blog seems to be doing just fine the way it is! i feel any new members you take in now would just take advantage of the popularity of this blog to promote their own posts

That is very much possible. 

Though the other four members other than myself have been on hiatus for 6 months to a couple of years, I believe-with one just barely returning just a few days ago. (Despite my wording here possibly sounding somewhat harsh like a scathing remark, it’s not suppose to be!) The blog just went through more than a month of inactivity because I myself was particularly busy, so some additional help might prove be good. 

That being said, it is also very possible that we recruit no one, and I will definitely be taking into mind if applicants seem self-interested or set on changing the status quo we’ve got going on here too much (sorry if this dissuades people into “applying,” but that’s just how the situation is, I suppose).


Thank God she didn’t remain silent today! I mean, how would her followers have ever gotten by without the knowledge that their Queen eats breakfast burritos at 1:30 in the the afternoon and stays hydrated with coffee while breastfeeding? I’m sure we can all rest easy tonight knowing she’s doing so well while others are still mourning the loss of their loved one(s) due to a massacre that happened just one year ago TODAY.

Really though, good for you, Cortese! You posted another candid shot that I’m sure just happened to be set up like so. We can’t forget that this isn’t an old picture, no this was definitely taken in real time just like you’re insinuating. I remember the days when she was SO busy with just TWO kids, thank God she’s got THREE now because the “me time” just comes so easy now. You’re a true gift to humanity and we’re lucky you’re gracing us with your presence on social media.

Fuck you, Cortese and every single one of your little minions. You’re for equality just as much as your best duck friends are. Fake ass bitch.

Little Things

Originally posted by blobyblome

Little Things

It had been the longest shoot of your career. Your group was getting ready to make their comeback and you had to film your new MV. Which took twelve hours and then do a promotional photo shoot right after. The hardest part of it all was having to keep a sincere smile on your face. All you wanted to do was go back home, eat, cuddle up with Kiseok and sleep.  The only other upside to long shoots was that you got the next two days off.

The only thing that kept you going was texting your boyfriend throughout the shoot. That was until he stopped answering a few hours ago. “Oppa probably fell asleep…lucky bastard…” you mumbled to yourself. You were happy that someone was sleeping it was almost four in the morning.

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Could’ve Been

Theme #37: What If | Danny Phantom | Family/Hurt/Comfort?? | Danny F., Valerie G., Maddie F.

Summary: History is made of moments, of split-second decisions and knock-on effects. So, if the dice fell another way…? (Named after the 2SFH song.)

[Read on]

I said I wouldn’t do Phanniemay this year. Then I saw today’s prompt (Alternate Universe), and remembered I’d written this... I intended to do ten of these drabbly things, and I more or less know what AUs I want to cover in the other five but I’ve hit something of a block atm. One day. One day I will write the rest.

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matau // lh + ch

pairing; none
word count; 1.4k
warnings; some swearing
summary; luke and calum are competing for australia in beach volleyball at the rio olympics
a/n; this is for @anarchyaustralia and @gladsyoucame‘s olympic!5sos blurb night. i know it’s not a blurb but i got a bit carried away whoops. also i wrote this at 4am so i’m sorry if it’s riddled with mistakes i didn’t catch. let me know what you think?

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Elijah had never expected to be King. Not when his elder brother Finn was all set to be the heir. He was just considered one of the many spares along with his other brothers. That was why he had signed up to fight in his countries army the moment he was old enough. His father never had a problem with it because he wasn’t the heir. But a couple weeks ago he received a letter that said he was needed home immediately. He knew what had happened because a whole platoon of guards came along with the letter. His brother Finn had died and now he was the crowned prince, the next King. 

The day he got home there was a grand feast. Then into the night time he was told by his father that they were throwing a welcome home party for him. It was also so he could potentially meet suitors. After all he needed a wife to have heirs. But he had no intention of marrying any of them. At least not yet. He wanted to marry for love like his parents had. He just hoped his marriage was better than theirs in the end.

He was sitting in the chair next to his father when he went to the dance floor. He noticed a lady who was unpaired. He immediately went over to her and asked her to dance. He took her hand and nodded at them to start the music. The dance was easy enough. But he was mostly captivated by the beauty behind the mask.

6th G of Replace V or An Actual Translation This Time

Alternative title: In which Imayoshi is terrifying and Aomine sure is lucky he’s so good at basketball or just think what could have happened to him.

Apparently there aren’t any plans to translate the Imayoshi and Hanamiya chapter; which is a real pity because this chapter really deserves one. So I decided to do it. Mind you, I don’t know much about the translating side of fandom, so if someone was going to translate it/has translated it, please accept my sincere apologies orz

First things first, please imagine that Imayoshi is speaking in his kansai dialect during all of his dialogue. Thank you.

Edit: There’s now a Spanish translation based on this one here by reckonerbeats, for anyone who’s interested.

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within confines and comfort zones. || part 1

genre: fantasy!AU / fluff+comedy (kinda cracky) / 0.01% angst
characters/pairings: Jeon Jungkook ft. yoonmin, namjin, Im Changkyun
word count: 10,143
a/n: this is a goddamn piece of writing I have worked on for a month and this is only 1/3 of it, so I hope you’ll all have fun reading and please be prepared for a very long ride of F.L.U.F.F and minimal amounts of confusion and sexual tension for special effect :’) also this part only contains some backstory and the story moves on to Y/N in the next part!! anyways it’s a mess and I’m dead
warnings: a very cute and very bad-with-girls Jungkook, a couple of made-up superpowers and their variations + how they work, and a lot of swearing 

below is a list of superpowers that’ll keep you from going ‘huh?’ when reading:

y/n: the ability to Teleport. a Teleporter.
jungkook: the ability to Read emotions. a Reader
jimin: the ability of having superhuman reflexes. a Manipulator (of sorts)
taehyung: the ability to Shapeshift into animals. a Shifter
yoongi: the ability to Read minds and control time. a DA, Reader, and Controller
namjoon: super intelligence. a Receiver
seokjin: the ability of regeneration and telekinesis. a DA, Generator, and Controller
hoseok: the ability to become invisible. a Shifter
changkyun: the ability of superhuman thievery. a Manipulator

Originally posted by jinkooks

The world Jungkook lives in is not what it seems. Every single person that walks the grounds of the magnificent city of Metropolis is fairly normal, regarding what they eat, what they wear, methods of commute, and living styles; all but normal, typical, and utterly mundane – except for the fact that everyone has their very own superpower.

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He is the bad boy in school and he falls for you- Harry Part 1

Being the only daughter of the dean of the school meant people expected allot from you. Always keep your grades up, come to class on time every single day, be the perfect student and set an example to the others. It just got to you to be able to maintain for perfect image. Your parents were loving and great parents but they just expect to much from you. You were just glad that no one in the school knew that the dean was your dad.  You only transferred to this school about 2 weeks ago because your dad had insisted hat it was much better than the public school you were going to before. When you first came to school it was hard to make friends and you still barely knew anybody you only had Jessie to talk to and she only had one class with you. And I guess you could count Harry as well. He didn’t talk to you at first when you went up to him to ask him where Mrs. Smiths math class was. He just looked you up and down and pointed down the hall without saying anything as you gave him a quite thank you and he watched you walking down hall to the class. But he did start to great you with a good morning every now and then giving you a small smile. Jessie had told you to stay away from Harry since he was “bad news” as she put it and so had everyone else in the school but he had been nothing but nice to you. Apparently he smoked, skipped class got detention and was a player but so far you hadn’t seen any of that. He was gorgeous that was for sure and you were sure every girl in school had a crush on him. You walked into your first class of the day and you were surprised to see Harry sitting in the seat beside yours. He rarely every came to class but for the past week he has been showing up to every class he had with you. “Good morning” he mumbled looking down at his phone. “Morning” you said as you sat down at your desk. You were wondering why he wasn't in his usual seat and was sitting at the front of the class beside your seat but you weren't complaining. He had managed to put a spell around you like he had done to every other girl in school and you had been crushing on him since day one. But you knew you and him could never happened, he was way out of your league, plus with all the gorgeous girls in your school he would barely notice you, you thought to yourself. You didn’t notice Harry watching you as you placed your bag down grabbing your book and notebook as you you tucked in a lose strand of hair behind your ear as Harry watched you carefully as his gaze went down your long dark hair and he admired how effortless and well-put you looked each day with your uniform. He was kicking himself mentally for watching you like this everyday and wanting to engage you in a deeper conversation with you but he was nervous of what your father would say. Yes he knew you were the daughter of the dean since he was constantly at the older men’s office for getting in trouble and he bumped into a picture of you and your parents in your dads office as he was waiting for your dad and he got bored and decided to snoop around. But it made sense in his mind, you were the perfect daughter, always participating in class, respectful to your teachers and had the perfect grades. Your innocence and perfection is what would draw him closer to you. It was a stupid cliche in his mind the bad boy falling for the good girl but he couldn't help it. He had dated many girls before but none of them intrigued him the way you do. This was different, every time he would look at another girl it was because of lust and he wanted relief, but with you it was much different he genuinely wanted to get to know you, talk to you for hours about anything and everything. And you were the reason why he was coming to class more often now, because he wanted to see you. He was always making up excises to talk to you in class. He would ask you for a pen one day and  to share your book with him the next day saying that he had forgotten his just so he could be a little closer to you, but the truth was his book was tucked safely in his locker. You never seem to notice the effort he made to talk to you. He didn’t even realize that class had already started and the teacher was now in class choosing partners for the upcoming project. His thoughts were interrupted as you called his name, he turned towards you as you looked at him blinking a couple of  times and his confused face. “What did you say [Y/N]?” he said. You felt your heart flutter at the way he said your name with that gorgeous British accent. “Umm..the teacher said we were partners” you said mentally slapping yourself for stuttering. “sounds good” he said giving you one sided smile as you nodded turning back around to pay attention to what the teacher was saying. Harry looked at you and back to the front of the class.  He was surprised at himself how eager he was to get started on this project because he was looking forward to working with you and this was the perfect opportunity for him to charm his way into your heart and he didn't care what would happened at the end as long as you felt the same way about him as he did with you…

You guys want part 2 or nah?