but anyway they both use their full names

Flesh/Brett Talbot Smut

Originally posted by holyhalehottness

Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)

Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! *I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS*

Request:  Could you do a Brett Talbot smut with the song Flesh by Simon Curtis? Please ❤

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About Spanish surnames

I haven’t been on this fandom for a long time but I noticed something that as a Spanish Hetalian really bothers me: the fact that people remove Spain’s first surname when using his human name.

In Spain (I would say in every Spanish speaking country, but I’m not sure if this happens in all of them) we have two surnames. The first one is your father’s surname and the second is your mother’s. This is really cool in my opinion because that way you keep both of your parents surnames. Also, women don’t have to change their surname when they get married.

For example: let’s suppose there’s a couple in which the husband is called Mateo Sánchez Romero and the bride is Marta Pérez López. They have a daughter called Isabel. Her full name would be Isabel Sánchez Pérez. When she’s older she marries a guy called Alberto Ramírez González. Her surnames would still be Sánchez Pérez and if they have kids their surnames would be Ramírez Sánchez.

So, every time you wanna use Spain’s human name you have to use either just the first surname or both of them. You should say “Antonio Fernández” or “Antonio Fernández Carriedo” NOT “Antonio Carriedo”. You should also say “Mister Fernández” or “Mister Fernández Carriedo” but NOT “Mister Carriedo” (it’s better if you use both surnames anyways).

I hope this has helped people to know a bit more about Spanish culture. You may continue on scrolling through your dashboard and do safe fangirling.

anonymous asked:

Dating miles would include?

Originally posted by miles-lunas

  • I mean, do I even need to say Olive Garden dates? Every date ends with someone shoving all the remaining breadsticks into their bag before leaving the restaurant. (spoiler alert: it’s usually Miles)
  • Running lines with him, especially when he’s trying to figure out exactly how he’ll want to deliver specific lines for an upcoming recording session. You, of course, put your best effort into reading every other part, which he really appreciates; he also definitely ends up occasionally breaking character, inevitably laughing at some of the voices you put on.
  • When he hasn’t seen you in awhile, the first thing he’ll do when he sees you again is pepper your face with small kisses before kissing you deeply, and then he’ll pull you in for the tightest hug. (“awhile” is really a subjective term, sometimes just meaning your average workday)
  • “Babygirl” and “babe” are the pet names he uses most often, the former able to absolutely melt you when he murmurs it lowly against your skin.
  • 2 AM chats about anything and everything, dumb jokes, philosophical discussions, really emotional, in depth conversations; even though you’re both very open anyways, every inhibition seems to fade when you’re cuddled together, rambling on about whatever.
  • He loves when you call him “sir” and it causes almost an instant switch in his behavior. His eyes darken, every movement and touch deliberate as takes full control of the situation; it drives him wild, especially if you’ve already been naughty.
  • He’s almost always holding hands with you in public, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand as you wait in line at the coffee shop. He also loves to throw his his arm around you when he can, and his hand will almost unconsciously find its way to resting on your leg when you’re sitting next to him.
  • Getting drunk together and the conversation just devolving into giggles and terrible jokes.
  • He loves playing with your hair, and oftentimes, when the two of you are sitting on the couch, you’ll wind up lying with you head in his lap, his fingers combing through your hair as you rewatch Cowboy Bebop for the 5th time.

anonymous asked:

30 for the cuddle prompt please

So this is probably total shit but I needed to write something for @fictober 10th and this has been driving me crazy! Thank you for the prompt!!
From cuddle prompts 
30. Out of necessity (trapped in a small space, etc.)


“Dammit Mulder this is all your fault!” Scully muttered against his chest.“Well it’s not like I planned it Scully! And be quiet or we’ll get caught!”Scully could feel his breath in her hair and an involuntary shiver ran through her.“You cold?” He asked.
“Of course! It’s 2 fucking degrees in this place!” 
The place was a supposedly abandoned mansion in upstate New York where bodies had been turning up mysteriously after every full moon. Every attempt at a police stakeout had failed and a body would show up anyway somewhere on the premise. 
Just as Scully predicted it was the work of a gang using old superstitions to cover up the murders. Naturally a large group of men from the Irish mob arrived at the spot right after Mulder and Scully, body in tow. 
There were too many men to fight causing them to run to a closet to wait till they cleared the area. Both silently took note of any names said outside the door so they could find them later but Scully had gotten a good enough look at the leader to know it was the same hit man they had suspected all along but had no evidence on.  
At least we cracked the case, Scully thought bitterly, if we ever live to tell anyone.
The space was too small to move and every time one of them tried to grab for their phones they’d bump into something so they decided to just wait it out. 
“How long will this take?” Scully asked. 
They were pushed up against each other and such close proximity was making Scully irritable. His lean muscular body felt way too good against hers. 
“Well they’ve still got to set up all the other ceremonial shit so like an hour?” Mulder guessed. 
A few minutes later when Scully began to shiver again, this time from the cold. 
“Here.” Mulder whispered and opened his coat up. 
She glared up at him but another shiver drove her forward into his arms. Surrounded by his coat and his arms she felt much warmer but the proximity to Mulder was driving her crazy. Scully couldn’t remember the last time she had sex and he smelled so damn good. 
It didn’t help that she could feel a bulge beginning to form in his jeans. Mulder shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to move his hips back and hit something in the closet knocking it over. 
They heard all activity outside the closet stop and they froze. 
“Keep going we don’t have time for this!” A voice yelled. 
They stayed wrapped around each other and Scully tried to pretend she was somewhere else. It became harder to pretend, as Mulder grew harder against her leg. 
“Sorry.” He sighed into her hair. 
“It’s a natural bodily response Mulder.” Scully said to herself as much as to him. 
He was quiet for a few minutes. 
“It’s a response to you Scully.” Mulder said and Scully was thankful for the darkness that his how red her face turned. 
Not knowing how to respond to that Scully wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head fully on his chest. 
His hand moved up to her hair and she felt him lay a gentle kiss on the top of her head. 
They stood together in silence for a while after the noise stopped just to be sure. 
When their legs began to wobble Mulder slowly opened the door and peaked out. 
“It’s clear.” He said and moved away from her. 
Scully felt the loss of his heat keenly but followed. 
“I say we get this tied up with the police and then go draw ourselves a nice warm bath.” Mulder said as he held his cellphone to his ear. 
“You mean baths?” Scully corrected. 
“No I meant what I said.” Mulder replied with a shit-eating grin leaving Scully silent while he updated the local police.
Suddenly she didn’t feel as cold anymore. 

3D Printing

I work for a large industrial and technology conglomerate. The largest, actually. I’m the lead engineer and project manager of a department called “Advanced Additive Manufacturing,” which is just a fancy way of saying “new 3D printing technologies.” The brass at Corporate are positioning our company to be at the apex of the additive manufacturing industry within the decade, so my department is lucky enough to enjoy a budget that’s nearly unlimited; far more than we actually need.

I work under the company’s chief technology officer and report my team’s research progress directly to him. So far our progress has impressed Corporate. This has resulted in a relatively laissez-faire managing of me by the CTO. What I’m doing works for him, and, in turn, works for his bosses.

My small team is pushed hard, but they get rewarded. They know they’re on the bleeding edge of technology that will be a primary causal factor in the next industrial revolution. Of course, the satisfaction that comes with that knowledge is augmented by salaries far beyond what they’d be making at other companies or research firms. Despite pushing them hard, I refuse to let them work more than 10 hours each day. I figure they need to have lives outside of work; their productivity will surely decline the moment they feel their job is oppressive. The only issue with that is it forces me to put in very long hours every so often. Nevertheless, I don’t feel overwhelmed or burned out. My family is on the other side of the country so I don’t see them much anyway and all my friends work with me in other parts of the company. I love my job and I am completely happy doing it.

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I Don’t Believe You... Really? #2

Originally posted by hey-kids-want-some-avengers

A series in which Tony Stark has proved Steve Rogers to be gullible and believed his ridiculous; stories, theories and conspiracies.

Part One


“The Irish are definitely going to win this game, I can tell,” Tony says obnoxiously loudly to Clint, who frowned and looked at the genius, Tony only glanced at Steve who was stood stirring a cup of coffee and briefly looked at Tony with mild curiosity.

Clint shrugged, “I don’t know, the Irish suck at pretty much every sport.”

“Yeah but Quidditch is their game,” Tony says in a deadly serious voice and Clint stares blankly at Stark and he knows. He instantly knows what the billionaire is doing, it takes a great amount of control for him to just nod in agreement. “

Steve steps away from the counter with his coffee, frowning and showing interest in the conversation, Clint nods. “Yeah, but the Bulgarians have Krum, greatest seeker!” Tony nods with a little sigh.

“Isn’t Quidditch from those famous movies?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow, already looking at Tony, probably thinking he has the upper hand for knowing about the Harry Potter movies.

Tony sighs with an eye roll, “Yes, it is. But the movies are based on books, the books are British, and Quidditch is a British made sport.” Steve furrowed his brow, “It was founded in Manchester, a place called Queerditch, hence where it got the name Quidditch.” Clint raised his eyebrows at Stark who remained passive.

“Isn’t usually played on brooms? Ya’know, the thing witches fly on.” Steve placed his mug down, sitting down in a seat opposite Tony. Both Steve and Clint ready to hear Tony explain this.

Stark crosses his arms. “Well, of course, it’s only recently a sport.” Steve cocked an eyebrow, “the whole sport was made based around broomsticks, aesthetic again. Some woman named Gertie Keddle made these flyable broomsticks back in the late seventies, since then it’s been evolving, actually, the Quidditch committee got in contact with me.” Tony shrugged.

Steve continued to frown at both Tony and Stark, “I don’t believe either of you,” he admits as he sips his coffee. Clint glances at Tony who is smirking, also counting down on his hands from five, lowering each digit till he placed his hand down. “Really?” Is all that Clint hears next from Steve.

“Yes, I got us tickets to the next game.” Tony sighs gently with an eye roll to Clint, who has unfortunately cracked under pressure and is chuckling to himself.

Steve sighs angrily, “I told you to stop doing this.”

“You actually believed Quidditch was a real, legitimate sport.” Both Iron Man and Hawkeye reduced to fits of laughter as Captain America leaves.  

(I haven’t posted anything for a while because I am busy editing series and stuff. Anyway, have this small little drabble, my humour. This series isn’t something I update often, only when I find stuff that Tony would use against Steve. - Rosalee)


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Amnesia chapter three.

“Yuri, what is the last thing you remember?” Yuuri asked.
“Huh? Why to you want to know? What the hell are you two oldies blabbing on about?”
There was silence in the room; Yuuri looked at Victor and signaled to leave the room. Victor caught on quickly and exited, closely followed by Yuuri.
“What are we supposed to say?” Yuuri stressed.
“That he got engaged and all of a sudden he was hit by a damn car?!”
Victor attempted to calm Yuuri down.
“Look, if he doesn’t remember anything, his mind is in a earlier state.”
“I know what amnesia is Victor!”
Yuuri snapped.
Victor could tell Yuuri was in a lot of distress.
“Well… I don’t know what to do with him but whatever happens let’s just keep a close eye on him. We can’t exactly tell him straight up, maybe we could try and get him to remember by bringing things from his house?”
Yuuri stood for a few moments.
“I.. I have an idea.”
Victor raised an eyebrow.
“Hmm?”
“Well, he’s known Otabek for a long time, since the GPF, maybe he could help?”
Victor sighed.
“Otabek has a broken ankle, he won’t be able to do much yet.”
“Visiting hours are over Sirs”
A feminine voice said unexpectedly.
Victor and Yuuri turn to see a short and attractive young nurse. A smirk went across Victor’s face.
“Victor, no.”
Yuuri whispered; Victor looked back at Yuuri.
“Victor yes.”
He winked; Yuuri rolled his eyes. Victor charmed his way into getting extended visiting hours for Yuuri and him. Yuri was having none of it.
“Hey, I don’t want you two oldies hanging round’ get lost!”
Yuri whined.
“Nope, were here until you get better.”
“I’m not sitting here only to listen to you two talking like I’m fucking five; fuck off, both of you.”
Yuuri was slightly offend by Yuri’s harsh words but was used to it as he had to sit through a few years of Yuri’s name calling.
“Yuri-”
“Ugh, what now?!’
"Hey, not so loud; anyway, do you know someone by the name of Otabek?”
“Huh?”
Yuri sat for a few moments and had a confused expression on his face.
“The name sounds familiar.”
Yuuri unnoticeably smiled.
“Well, Victor and I best be going.”
“W.. What? Yuuri?”
Yuuri yanked Victor away from Yuri’s bed and towards the door. Knowing full well Yuuri wouldn’t do that without reason Victor just followed. Yuuri turned around and said.
“We’ll be back tomorrow!”
Yuri scowled at them as they exited; the doors closed and Victor had some questions.
“Yuuri.”
Victor folded his arms and waited for an answer.
“Victor, he remembers! He may not remember it entirely but he remembers a little bit!”
“Yuuri, what are you talking about?”
“Yuri and Otabek met when they were kids did they not?”
“Well yes but-”
“Yes buuuut they only saw each other they didn’t get to know or become friends with each other.”
Yuuri paused to see if Victor had caught onto what he was saying.
“Aaannnd..?”
“They only became friends after they met at the GPF”
Victor still looked confused; all of a sudden his face lit up, he had just realised what Yuuri was trying to say.
“So he has kept some memories!”
Victor seemed happy until he got a tap on the shoulder, his face went neutral as he turned to face the same nurse as before.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience but you really have to leave now.”
Victor turned and Yuuri did the same, they eventually reached ground level of the hospital and entered the empty carpark. It was cold enough to see your breathe so Yuuri cupped his hands and breathed into them to warm them up. Victor noticed Yuuri do it out of the corner of his eye and had an idea; he slowed down so Yuuri would walk ahead of him a little bit. He crept up behind him and wrapped his big, long coat around him.
“ Victor, what are you doing?”
Yuuri giggled.
“You looked cold.” Victor said sweetly.
“I… Uh.. Thanks Victor.” Yuuri smiled.
They proceeded until finally reaching their car; they made their way home safely and they had a hard time sleeping. The next day they didn’t want to bother Yuri so instead they went to see how Otabek was coping. They make their way through the areas that have a lot of people into the smaller area of the hospital where Otabek was recovering.
“Otabeeeeek!” Victor squealed.
Otabek was startled to the sudden break of silence that Otabek had been waiting in. He looked at the door way to see victor and Yuuri enter the room. Otabek had a worried look on his face; Victor and Yuuri stood by Otabek’s bedside.
“Where’s Yura? Is he okay? What happened?” Otabek questioned.
“Oh shit, he doesn’t know about Yuri..” Victor thought, Victor and Yuuri exchanged looks like
‘are you going to tell him or am I?’ Yuuri sighed.
“O.. Otabek… I’m so, so sorry…”
Otabek’s face turned white.
“He’s not dead is he?!” He asked in a shaky voice.
“No just… He dealt a huge blow to the head and… He has amnesia and can’t remember anything since the GPF, before you met..”
Tears prickled in Otabek’s eyes, he looked down at his hands and buried his face in his hands.
“It’s all my fault, if I had just gone straight home none of this would have happened!” Tears rushed down Otabek cheeks pooling into the palms of his hands.
“Otabek, it’s not your fault.” Yuuri attempted to comfort him.
“Yes it is! I could’ve said that I wanted to get a ride with you or not gone to watch the stars, I’m so stupid!”
Victor grabbed Otabek by the shoulders and shook him slightly.
“Otabek, he’s alive and well, mostly and that’s because you got him out of the way before more damage could be done. You saved his life, he’ll get his memory back, I promise.”

Author note: I’M SORRY I DIDN’T POST THIS EARLIER! ;-;

Been playing a lot of Mystic Messenger and named my MC Todoroki.

So have this sketch~☆

And Sometimes Things Fall to Shit...

…but hopefully this won’t.


Simon Snow was sitting in a police station.

An officer was across from him, typing into a computer and looking rather bored. Simon shared his sentiment.

“Why did you punch the man, Mr. Snow?”

Mr. Snow. What a joke, Simon thought humorlessly to himself. That’s what people used to call my father.

“Mr. Snow?” The police prompted.

“Because he had called a man and his boyfriend homosexual slurs. So I punched him.”

Because those slurs sounded like things his father used to yell when he would rain his punches across Simon’s body. Because Simon was a little drunk and a little angry at losing his job. Because the homophobe had just insulted the most beautiful man Simon had ever seen.

“Do you understand that the man is wishing to push for assault charges, Mr. Snow?” Although that surprised Simon momentarily, it didn’t pull him out of the stupor he had been in since he had seen Mr. Beautiful Posh Man.

A villainous widow’s peak that Simon was dying to kiss. A posh suit in a shitty bar. Gray eyes. The man had caused Simon to feel a building in his stomach, to feel alive for the first time in days, months, years.

Beautiful.

He probably had some wonderfully snobby name to go along with his appearance and obvious wealth. Something like “Issac Godfrey” or “King George the Third.” Simon was dying to say his posh name out loud (whatever that may be).

Shame, Beautiful Posh Man already had a boyfriend.

“Mr. Snow?” Fuck he had dozed off again.

“How could he press charges when I threw only one punch? And he was the one being the arsehole,” Simon countered.

The man was being terrible, yelling things that Simon would rather not repeat in his head. He was loud. And the Beautiful Posh Man had looked a so out of place in that shitty bar, with his suit and jacket and silken scarf, that Simon decided he would do his dirty work for him. So he punched the prejudice man. Unfortunately for him, an officer was nearby, and escorted Simon to the local police office.

“Well, the insults were not–” But Simon would never know what the insults were not because suddenly another officer came into the room and mumbled something into the first officer’s ear. He then nodded and turned back to Simon. “Actually, your charge has been cleared. You’re free to go.”

Simon stared. “What?”

“You’re allowed to leave, Mr. Snow.”

“But what if I’m potentially dangerous or something?”

“Are you potentially dangerous?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then please leave, Mr. Snow.”

Simon rose slowly, still a little dazed by the turn of events, and followed the escort out of the small station.

Outside the Beautiful Posh Man was waiting for him.

Simon recoiled for a second, surprised by the sudden appearance of the man he had been thinking about all night but then he realized he probably shouldn’t have been so surprised (because honestly, with Penny in America, who else could’ve gotten him out of there?). He then slowly walked down the stairs, just as the man began walking up. They met halfway, Simon one step above the Beautiful Posh Man.

He didn’t know what to say, so he started, “Hello, Beautiful Posh Man,” and then winced at his choice of words. The man rose an eyebrow.

Simon was suddenly very turned on.

“‘Beautiful Posh Man?’”

“I don’t know your name. So that’s what I’ve been referring to you as in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, my Savior of All Things Gay?”(later they took to occasionally calling each other these names. As a joke)

Simon tingled at the word ‘my.’ “I don’t know. I felt like I was hitting on you when I don’t even know your name. And you have a boyfriend.”

“My name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch the Third.” Simon grinned. He had been half right when he had guessed the guy’s name was King George the Third. “And I have no boyfriend. Why did you punch that guy?”

Simon hesitated. “I guess I just wanted people to stop trying to hurt each other. With their words. That’s the worse type of hurt.” (Baz later told Simon that he started to fall in love with him at that moment). “Then who was that guy if he wasn’t your boyfriend?”

“Some guy I go to when I feel bored, I suppose.”

“Can I be that guy?”

“No.” The hurt must’ve shown on Simon’s face because Baz elaborated. “I want you to be the guy who I go to when I’m sad or upset or already happy or feeling a little horny or wanting to spoil someone. Do you get what I mean?”

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“Essentially. Does this sound a little crazy? I know we’ve just met and I only know your name because the officer told me once I paid off your charge, but I really, really would like to get to know you, Simon Snow. And you’re insanely hot, so even if this does fall to shit, I at least have some nice eye-candy to stare at while it happens.”

Simon recognized the insecurity laced in Tyrannus’ (what a stuffy name) joke and smiled to try to boost his confidence. It worked. “Tyrannus–”

“Baz.”

“What?”

“I don’t go by my first name. I go by Basilton, or Baz for short. My mother must’ve been mad when she named me.” He said it with an affectionate grin, and Simon realized he must love his mother a lot (some time later, while they snuggled under the covers in Simon’s apartment, Baz tells Simon how his mother died in a broken voice. After, Simon asked Basilton to move in with him).

“Anyways, Basilton–” Simon could get used to saying that. A lot (he never really did. Each time he called Baz by his full name little shivers would run down both of their spines). “–I would love to go some coffee with you. Right now. At eleven o’clock at night on a Thursday. And perhaps later we can become boyfriends and hopefully we can make sure this doesn’t fall to shit. So I guess I’m a little crazy too.” (Basilton quickly learned that Simon is very crazy. And he loved it because that meant that they matched).

Baz ran his hand through his hair and grinned. Simon had an overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss the tip of Baz’s widow’s peak (he did, later. He did it many times). “I would love to go get coffee.”

He offered his hand to Simon, and Simon took it.

(And it never fell to shit… It fell to wonderful things, like beauty and burned waffles in the morning and Polaroid pictures of boys kissing boys. It fell to happiness and tears and trying too hard and trying not enough and instead finding a happy medium. It fell to love.)


Okay so there’s that. Yay Snowbaz fluff. 

Extreme special thanks goes to @carryonsimonsnowflake who is a beautiful little goddess and helped me a lot (partial credit to the ending goes to her because she’s amazing like that. Oh and the line of Simon being “Savior of All Things Gay”). Basically she’s amazing and you should all go check out her tumblr. 

Also thanks to @simon-and-basilton who supported me and also updated her fic today that lowkey inspired me (EVERYONE GO READ THE FIC IT’S SO GOOD)

Thanks for reading!

30 Day Relationship Challenge

Day 1: Introduce Yourselves with a Picture

I don’t actually have any good photos of the two of us. Both our phones are just filled with pictures of our son. This is the day he got his first pair of glasses and wanted to send a photo to his friend who wanted to see.


Anyway, I call him J on here because I didn’t want to put his name all over the internet without his permission (he gave me permission for the photo). He is basically the full package (sexy, intelligent, funny, compassionate, good dad, etc). I really like him a lot.


We met in first grade, became bffs in middle school, started dating our junior year, got married on May 7, 2016. I was in the friend zone for ELEVEN YEARS and then he finally realized I liked him and asked me out during church.


Idk. This is us. Hello.

‘Siren’

requested by anonymous on 5sos-prompts but I got carried away

summary: other sirens are quite content in killing sailors for sport, this one way different - something about him intrigued me. And it all kicked off from there.

kind of Pirates of the Caribbean meets Sinbad meets Peter Pan - really fun, really cute, first time I’ve written 2000 words straight in a very long time (also I made up a bunch of things about Sirens)

sorry it’s taken so long xx

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Mash-Up customs! Maleficent and Aurora

Naming these mash-ups isn’t quite as easy as naming an Iron Man/Batman mash-up. Princess Malora? Princess Auroficent? Maybe I should just call them AU customs. XD Anyway, here are two mash-ups I finished last night - Maleficent and Aurora from Sleeping Beauty. I love the way they look together! Although… I’m thinking Maleficent Aurora THE ONE ON THE RIGHT might need her hair lightened up; I promise it doesn’t blend into her skin like that in person! LOL!

I used Aurora and mini Maleficent for the bases. I did full repaints on both of them, but I also decided to switch their ~props around so they fit the new paint jobs better. ;)

I gotta admit, now I want to do this with all of the princess/villain Pop duos. ;P

NS fail predictions (surprised anyone?); NaruHina and full moons

I don’t know about you guys,  but I was in tears of laughter at Naruto’s and Sakura’s incredibly unromantic talk after Naruto woke. Truly the most beautiful love story of our time. Other posters speculate that maybe Naruto thanked Sakura and Obito off-panel. “He’s not an asshole!”. I agree, but the situation was urgent, so I wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t. But the main point of this is that once again and to no one’s, but NS fans surprise  nothing happened and once more NS’s predictions failed and one more big  opportunity for NS to develop beyond friendship went by, wasted. So what now, NS? If after the “kiss of life” NS is nowhere near canon, what could possibly make it canon now? To me this is the last nail in the coffin. This is was it, the supposed culmination of all Kishi was, according to NS, building up to: Naruto is dying/dead, Sakura realizes her feelings for him, saves his life (choosing him over Sasuke who just dies alone and unloved) and they live happily ever after.

Well, but look at the bright side NS, I’m sure NS will canon next chapter… or the chapter after that… and so on.

Now, onto the mind-boggling “Naruto has a full moon on his palm” hypothesis. Mostly it seems based on this page:

“It’s night, obviously has to be the moon!” Right, sun can’t rise at night, but two moons at the same time is ok? And in different phases? Clearly it’s just symbolic.
 Take this panel for instance:

So what happened here? “Crescent” sun and full sun? No? Thought so. Anyway, they’re just symbols, namely the Sun and the crescent moon as they’re usually depicted. There are countless others references of the Sun being associated to Naruto, most notably, I think, the Uzumaki symbol itself  and Naruto referring to his parents as his “two suns” (not his two full moons, mind you). Nothing more should need be said, but here’s the ch. 671 cover:

Once again Kishi beats us over the head with Naruto and Sasuke being opposites, but complementing each other. Both of them having the same symbol would be completely antithetical to said theme. Not to mention the color of the statues is the final giveaway (for the reading comprehension impaired).

Now, how does NH come into this. Though symbolism is not exactly high in my list of best evidence, but when the Naruto is walking with the sun (yes, the sun) painted on his hand, I think it’s time to maybe pay more attention to it. So let’s get down to it:

1-Her name: The most obvious one, I’d say. “Towards the sun”/“sunny place”.

2-Dat concept art:

Naruto, Hinata and the sun. Need I say more?

3-Chapter 297’s cover:

Indeed, with her goal of being with Naruto forever, the caption couldn’t be any more true and she won’t stop any  time soon. Though, I suppose for those who believe Naruto’s symbol is a full moon read the caption as “she sets out for the full moon, it’s silver light her beacon”.

Lastly, I’ll finish this post by making a prediction of my own (for fairness sake, NS fans can mock me if it doesn’t happen): when Hinata wakes up, there’ll be a NH moment, a big one; marriage proposal and all… nah, but seriously though, I’ll risk it and say they’ll hold hands again; maybe not as long as the one in 615, but  they will and Naruto will say “look at me win” or something along those lines.

The World Series: Game Three

A series of ficlets [one for each game played] that revolve around Kate Beckett’s love of the Mets, their 2015 World Series against the Royals, and the ongoing separation of Beckett from Castle. Set between 8x05 ‘The Nose’ and 8x06 ‘Cool Boys’. Spoilers for all aired episodes. Read the others in the series here.

No matter what Esposito had told her when she left the bar, she isn’t drunk. 

Kate determines that she’s pleasantly buzzed; the kind that makes her a little giggly and a bit uncoordinated, turns her speech into something slower than her precise consonants and vowels generated by an upbringing in Manhattan. 

Castle would say that she becomes uninhibited, just enough alcohol in her system that the more reserved part of her personality brought on by tragedy, chosen career, and general adulthood falls away to reveal the person that really just wants to live a life that she enjoys. 

Tonight she’s mostly just happy, basking in the glowing of few too many drinks and the Mets absolute domination of Kansas City for their first World Series win. A 9-3 smashing of the Royals has left her feeling like she could run from her spot on 96th Street all the way to SoHo and the loft that still calls to her, ever insistent that she simply pack up the meager piles of belongings she’s taken away and go home. 

Home is a place where she’d like to go because, right now, even in her easy joy there is a certain hollowness. Much like everything else in her life, Kate accepts while standing outside the bar that her life is incomplete. No matter how good things are, it feels wrong without Castle at her side. He is the piece of the puzzle that is missing to complete the picture; the one that would take her simple delight and have it overflow until she was breathless with laughter and her cheeks hurt from smiling. That kind of bliss is something that she hasn’t had since she answered a phone call from Vikram Singh that helped turn her life upside down. 

Even with her buzz, one that reminds her of her choices and the pain they’ve caused with the same buoyancy of her World Series elation, she can’t forget that particular point. Vikram assisted in the choice by bringing it to her attention but she, Katherine Beckett, is the one who disrupted her life and hurt someone that she loves.

Her arm is growing tired of being extended in the air to hail a cab by the time one finally slows and quickly shifts lanes to pull smoothly to the curve. It takes her a minute to pour herself into the backseat and to close the door, to double check that she hasn’t left her keys, her bag or her phone resting on the table that she, Espo, Ryan and a few others from the Twelfth had used to eat a late dinner, drink a little too much and watch the game.  

“Where ya goin’?” The accent from her driver is pleasantly New Jersey, a surprising change from the myriad of foreign tongues that she encounters on most of her trips via yellow colored cars. 

“595 Broome Street,” falls out of her mouth effortlessly, a spike of shock at the request followed quickly by a purr of pleasure. Even though Kate could change her mind, apologize for giving an incorrect destination and deliver the accurate one to her by-the-month studio sublet, she stays quiet as the cab pulls away from the curb and into traffic.

She’s going home, at least for the moment. She’s going home to see her husband. 

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They decided they didn’t need anything fancy. That’s why Sam was wearing his black ring on the opposite hand, and why Cas’s matched.

They were laying together in what used to be a lush field, but this summer was brutal, so now it was nothing but crunch brown weeds and dirt without any give. Still, Sam and Cas always came out here because it was far away from town. There was little light pollution and even less noise. It was cloudy, but they could still see the silhouette of the almost-full moon shining through, and they could both probably name the stars from memory anyway.

But they weren’t here for the moon and the stars. They were here for a rare stolen moment together, nothing to worry about besides the impending rain and staying comfortable on the hard ground.

Curled up together as they were, it was a little bit of effort for Cas to take Sam’s left hand in his own and manoeuvre it between them, but he managed just fine. Sam opened his eyes slowly, sleepily, and watched Cas kiss each of his knuckles one by one with a small smile on his face, eyes full of reverence. Cas lingered a moment longer on his ring finger, and Sam took the initiative to pull him in gently. Cas tilted his head ever so slightly, and their lips slotted together perfectly.

Truthfully, Sam never wanted to leave. And even when they felt the first drops of rain, they lingered a while longer. There were people who spoke against them, who said a relationship like theirs would never last. Maybe it was petty to take pleasure in proving them wrong, but the tender smile they shared said no one had to know.

imagine #1: YOUR BROTHER IS IN 1D AND HE CATCHES YOU WITH A 5SOS MEMBER

Ashton: You had been dating Ashton for 6 months. Everything was going perfect, except you both didn’t know how to tell your older brother Harry. Yes, the Harry Styles from One Direction.

“Babe, how are we gonna tell him?” Ashton asked. “Does he even need to know? What if he doesn’t like the idea of me dating his friend without telling him?” you asked, worried. Ashton sighed, “He’s not gonna be mad. And besides, I’d never leave you anyways” He stuck his tongue out at you laughing. “Ashton Fletcher Irwin, you are the biggest dork I’ve ever met.” He looked at you playfully pretending to be hurt, “What did I say about using my full name? Now (y/n), you know the consequences.” “NO DON’T!” you yelled. He jumped on top of you and started tickling your sides. You laughed and screamed, begging him to stop but the only thing it made him do was laugh harder. He finally gave in and stopped, then collapsed on top of you. “Did you learn your lesson, (y/n)?” he asked. “Yes, I did” you replied, completely out of breath. “Good, now come over here and kiss me” he said, his dimples fully visible now.

He kissed you slowly and passionately, his hands softly resting at the side of your face. Things were slowly getting heated as he glided his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you happily accepted. “I love you so much, (y/n).” he whispered in between kisses. 

“Hey (y/n), have you by any chance seen my- oH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING???” Harry screamed as he walked in the room. You both jumped off the couch “Well, I think now is a better time to tell him than anything. Don’t you?” Ashton said. “What are you two talking about? And why was my sister and my best friend making out on the couch?” he asked panicking. “Because we’re dating.” you told Harry calmly. “What? How long has this been going on for?” he asked. “It’ll be 6 months on Saturday.” Ashton said proudly. You looked up at him shocked “You remembered?” he looked at you lovingly “Of course, why wouldn’t I remember the greatest day of my life?” you just cuddled into his arms and stared into his greenish/hazel eyes as another way of saying ‘I love you’ to him.

“Do you promise to never hurt her? Ever?” Harry asked suddenly and quietly, shocking both of you. “I promise, I would never think about hurting her” Harry looked at him for a minute before saying “Okay, well you have my blessing then, Ash.” “Really?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah. But if you hurt my little sister-” “I won’t, I promise” and with that Harry nodded his head and left. Ashton turned towards you and said “Well, now that that’s taken care of” he leaned in to kiss you. “In your damn dreams, Irwin!” Harry yelled from the other room causing you both to jump away from each other. “Oh trust me, they are” Ashton whispered in your ear and winked. You playfully hit his arm playfully as you both erupted into a fit of laughter.