but look at his hand

Vimes led the troll and Sybil up the stairs and into the office, where he stopped in front of a wall.
“This one?” he said.
“Yes,” said his wife. “It’s hard to notice until you measure the rooms, but that wall really is rather thick–”
Vimes ran his hands along the paneling, looking for anything that might go click. Then he stood back.
“Give me your crossbow, Sergeant.”
“Here we are, sir.”
Vimes staggered under its weight, but managed to get it pointed at the wall.
“Is this wise, Sam?” said Sybil.
Vimes stood back to take aim, and the floorboard moved under his heel. A panel in the wall swung gently.
“You scared der hell out of it, sir,” said Detritus loyally.

– Vimes menaces the wall | Terry Pratchett, The Fifth Elephant

puddlechild  asked:

"One of these days, you need to let me dye your hair when I'm doing mine."

He though Ana ruffling his hair years back, and getting on his case as it receded. 

With a doubtful look at Annillia, the soldier ran a hand over the top of his head. His hair was its usual organized mess.

“Dye it … blond?” There was a note of hope in his voice that he hated.

@quiveringshaft

     A wince of pain as his vision blurs for unknown reasons. Thrust from his position within Chrom’s troops he finds obscured figures and objects within his gaze, nothing seemingly looking familiar at all. Hand lifts to his head as a slight shake tries to remedy his visual issue. Blinking a few times the haze slowly recedes as the figure is made clear to him, and it was no one he had ever see before. Actually there seemed to be quite a few people in the immediate area and after conversing a bit with someone who wore a similar attire to his own but in white the gist of the situation was made clear to him. Lost again in an unknown land, and head still foggy, it was time to start from scratch all over again…well better make the most of it.

     Seeing someone who seemed to be here for a while, or at least before him that is, and clearly a tuned warrior Robin lifts a hand with a smile, “My name’s Robin and I’m somewhat of a strategist. I’ll do my best to get everyone through without casualties!”

(a random poem story)

i’m just as scared as you are,
he said to me,
with an uncertain look
in his big beautiful eyes.
but he was ready, i could tell.
he wouldn’t take no for an answer;
he was hungry and
life thus far had not assuaged him.
let’s do it, i told him,
ready to get started.
he took my hand,
his palms were sweaty,
looked me right in my face
and i knew it was time.

we jumped.

cliickboom  asked:

franburr + 89

otp drabbles | accepting | @cliickboom

aaron, love, ‘m back! sorry ‘m so late, i got a li’l… distracted. 

Keep reading

Rescue Me (Part 2) [a Barry Allen/Sebastian Smythe imagine]

Request(s): ‘I’d like to read the conversation between seb, Barry, and reader after Barr reveals the truth. Make it angsty but also happy ending?’ and ‘my dark heart needs more poly angst I just don’t even know why 🤔’

a/n: wooo angst……

Part 1


WARNING: Hella angsty


“No, we haven’t. I wasn’t even with you until I woke up with Y/N and you one day.” Barry admits, frowning at the both of you. Sebastian squints, sitting up straighter, blankets pooling around his tiny waist, hand touching yours. “After my dad died, I went back in time and saved my parents, creating an alternate universe called Flahpoint.” he gulps, looking down at his hands, chest heaving. “In Flashpoint, Y/N and I were together…” he smiles shyly, “We had a baby, too…”

A little gasp escapes from Sebastian’s mouth and he grips your hand, eyes fogged up. You frown, crossing your legs underneath the blankets. “But, I was losing my powers.” Barry continues, covering his dick with one hand, shifting his ass on his heels. “So, I ran back in time and stopped myself from saving my mom, thinking everything would go back to the way it was…” he gulps, “When I came to the present timeline, I woke up between the two of you…” he finishes, peering through his thick eyelashes.

Covering your mouth, you shut your eyes, holding the gray sheet to your bare chest. What he just said…you can’t believe this! “So you’ve been pretending the whole time?!” Sebastian fumes, sitting on his knees. You watch the speedster nod. “You’ve been pretending the whole time?!” he repeats, shoving Barry backwards.

Barry tumbles off the bed, landing on his ass before standing up. His lime green eyes widen an inch at you. Tears drip off Sebastian’s cheeks as he climbs off the bed, abandoning your hand. “I can’t believe you…” you whisper when Sebastian slams the door to the bathroom. “Why didn’t you tell us?” you ask, frowning at him.

“I…you were so happy…” Barry says in a small voice.  A silver necklace slides from under the door, making your heart drop. “What’s that?” the speedster asks.

“The necklace we got him for his birthday…with our initials…” you sniffle. “You should have at least told us; told Sebastian.” you glare, sliding off the bed, padding towards the bathroom. Hesitantly, you knock on the door. “Sebby…it’s me.” you whisper, hearing the lock unlatch. Carefully, you slip in, crossing your arms over your exposed chest.

Sebastian wipes his eyes, lips set in a tight frown. “I wasn’t with you guys… He was just pretending!” he shouts, waving his hand before cradling his head with his pointer finger and thumb. “The whole time!” he adds, “That’s why he wouldn’t touch me! He didn’t know me!” he screams, loud enough for Barry to hear, pale chest moving rapidly. Sebastian runs his hands through the hair, tucking it behind his ears, palms pressed to his neck. “What- how is that supposed to make me feel? I’m not… I’m not even sure if we’re boyfriends anymore!”

Cupping his sun kissed cheeks, you press your lips to his, trying to calm the Warbler down. “Of course you’re still my boyfriend, Bas.” Barry cries, resting his forehead against the wood door. “You and Y/N are my boyfriend and girlfriend! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you; I was afraid that-that both of you would leave! I love you, Bas. I love you just like I love Y/N-”

The Warbler flings the door open, sucking in a breath, making the indents of his collarbone more prominent. He takes a step towards Barry, jaw set. “You’re an idiot!” Sebastian spits, pulling the speedster’s chest before grabbing his face and kissing him harshly. “I’m still pissed.” he clarifies, grabbing your arm to get you in the middle. “But I love you both…”

durotxn  asked:

"Why do you keep stumbling over your words? Just how tired are you?" Durotan scrutinized his brother's face carefully, moving forward to examine the bags beneath Orgrim's eyes. His face softened in worry. "You haven't slept in days, have you?"

As much as he tried, he could not hide the utter exhaustion that wracked his mind and body, and as feeble as his attempts were, he still persisted..

Dull and tired bloodshot golden orbs slowly found that of his brothers gentle blue ones, his mind racing at 5 kmh in order to come up with some sort of reply. His blank expression sullied by obvious tiredness, he sighed softly before looking down to at the floor.  In his hand was his work satchel, which was noticeably thicker than usual. His appearance was disheveled, and Durotan could notice that not only had Orgrim not brushed his beard to perfection, but he was also wearing his suite jacket inside out.

He had not slept in days, and noticeable bags had formed under his eyes. This might have been one of the first tings Durotan noticed when he had gotten a good look at him from being so close. He didn’t erect and straight like he normally did; his shoulders droop in a depressed sag and his back was arched due to lack of physical strength and waning will. If not for his brother standing so close as he inspected him, he might have just fallen over, face first, into the ground.

He couldn’t answer, he was to weak. He could only stare. The sight of him with a few papers leaking from his work satchel, and the pen in his hand, was evidence enough.

He had been working nonstop.

anonymous asked:

continuation of apostasia marrying fem!mm please? >o<

The gemstone topped ring gleamed on her hand as Add cut herself a large slice of cake. While she had made a cake large enough for a wedding bigger than this one, as the after party died down a large portion of the cake was gone. Add was here for her third slice. Ain stared at her judgingly.

“What?“ she caught him staring, with a fork full of cake in her hands. She stuck it in her mouth despite him. Ain sighed deeply.

“You always loved sweets,” he answered and moved over to her, uninterested in the cake. He took the plate out of her hands and gently put it on the table, to replace with his own– and Add spotted a similar gold ring on his hand.

Holding each other they looked over to the darkening pavilion as the sun set and the tired Elgang conversing with themselves. “The party’s almost over. What do you plan to do?“

Add turned over to him, not letting it show that she was surprised to see Ain taking initiative for once. She squeezed both of his hands and gave him a light smile. "We could go home… or we can dance?“

@sithrightsactivist asked for something, anything, with Jaal and Liam…and since the Nomad is my favorite, here you go.


The seats go down


“Do they now?”  The ridge above Jaal’s left eye raises a fraction.

“She’ll be an hour out there, at least.  Just saying.” Liam drums his fingers on his knee. “Might be more comfortable.”

“Yes, she does seem to forget that the Initiative has equipped her with mining drones,” Jaal mumbles.  He sighs and tugs off his gloves.  “Perhaps gathering rocks by hand… relaxes her.”

The look on his face is, Liam’s learning, calculated openness.  Body language, he’s learning too, is a little harder to get entirely right.  Jaal’s mouth twitches up at the corner when he’s joking, but also when he’s annoyed, crossed arms mean the same to angara as to humans, but crossed ankles mean something else.  

Jaal shifts a little lower in his seat, knees splayed, hands resting high on his thighs.

Liam surreptitiously tracks the shape of him, large and languid in the Nomad, the fused digits, hands loosely framing his groin.  Then, he squints at the jungle outside where Ryder’s already long gone in the overgrowth.  “I don’t think she knows how to relax, mate.”

Ryder knows.  Jaal’s got to see that, right?  She knows he’s been trying to get this for a while.  Jaal, alone.  Has to be the reason she took them off-road in paradise, after warning Liam not to manage his feelings like a crisis.    

-Just lend me Sam’s data on him, heart rate, blood flow, that kind of thing. So I can be sure.

-Heyo, no way.  That’s one path you’re finding on your own.


Then she’d flashed him finger guns and told him to trust her, that Jaal was, in her opinion, “like a cat with a cardboard box.”  Into him.  So, she made with the manufactured alone time.

But on Havarl they’re never fully alone, everything from the thickly tangled vines to the pink moon seems to have eyes on them.  Liam doesn’t mind.  Feels about right.  He can respond here, pretend they’re on holiday instead of ducking busybodies on the Tempest.  High above the vehicle some kind of animal coos, long and mournful-like.

After a bit, Jaal’s voice cuts the tense silence.  Or makes it worse.

“So.  You want to get…comfortable…with me?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Your writing is amazing! Could I request for separate scenarios where Oikawa, Sugawara and Tsukishima's s/o is leaving the country and the guys are trying to stop them from leaving at the airport?

Holy shit, Anon, you know how to mess with my heart! So many emotions!

I have various endings, so unfortunately, not all have a happy ending… sorry. 


Just get there. He just needed to get there.

Oikawa’s breath came too hard, too fast as he ran through the airport, desperate to see the gate he was looking for, ticket he didn’t plan to use gripped tightly in his hand. His heart was beating too furiously against his ribs, chocolate eyes wild in his search. How could he be so stupid as to have let them leave? How could he have thought that everything would be okay it they did?

The gate number was the first thing his eyes honed in on first, their name choking out of his throat as he approached. Just as long as he wasn’t too late, just don’t be late. Tears touched at his eyes when he saw them standing in line to board, their head whipping around at the sound of their name. His heart jumped when he saw them step out of line, their eyes on him in… what was it? Concern? Relief? Regret?

“Tooru?” They sounds breathless, just how he felt as he wrapped them up his arms right then. He vowed to never let them go again. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer - couldn’t answer - as he reached to pull them tightly into his arms, face burying in their neck, his arms trembling. Their smell, their body against his, their breath tickling the hair at his ear, it drove him over the edge, allowing the salty water to escape from his eyes at last. “You can’t go,” he croaked, voice lost in the emotion sweeping over him, “not now. Not like this.”

When their arms returned his hold, he thought he would collapse right then and there, conscious of the wetness touching at his own shoulder. “Oh, Tooru, I can’t just let this opportunity go.” There was regret in their voice, a desperation for everything to work out. Everything that he wanted.

“I know, I know,” he answered, pulling back enough for their eyes to meet, but to more, he refused to let them go, “just… wait. Just for a day even, please, you can’t leave like this.” He wasn’t above begging, despite how proud he displayed himself, how his pride had driven them to this point, and he wasn’t about to let it get in the way again.

They remained quiet, the moment dragging on longer than comfortable. Oikawa was certain he couldn’t breath, maybe he didn’t want to, not if they left, after all.

“Okay,” they finally answered, a tingling relief trailing up his spine, “okay.”

He knew it wouldn’t last. She couldn’t pass up this chance. But at least they could work it out, maybe experience this opportunity together.


It had been a long journey to the airport. They sat silently, eyes focused on the road, neither wanting to acknowledge their destination. They stopped once, pulled over on the side of the road to hurry their bodies into the backseat. Hands grasping too desperately, skin pressed to tightly to skin, and tears were whipped away in an attempt to pretend their ending wasn’t coming.

Sugawara’s hand held theirs tightly as they walked through the airport. His brown eyes looked everywhere but at the gate numbers, maybe if he didn’t see it then it didn’t exist. They’d remain with him; they wouldn’t leave.

“It’s just one year, Koushi,” they had said when it was time for them to board, smiling sadly at him, their hands squeezing at the arms that held them so tightly.

They made it sound so easy. “Yes,” he finally spoke, voice strained, “but it’s a whole year.”

Making this harder on them wasn’t something he initially intended to do. He was so proud when they had gotten the scholarship to study out of the country, but not that the day was finally there, he felt that he couldn’t have the same enthusiasm as before. He wanted so much for them and they deserved this; they had worked so hard for it. But the urge to be selfish, to beg them to stay with him, was harder to resist as he received his final kiss from them. The words lodged in the throat when he watched them turn one last time to wave their goodbye.

His hand rose numbly, returning the gesture as wholly as he could. He knew this was temporary, but the permanence in it felt so real. Swallowing back the rest of his emotion when he finally saw the aircraft launch into the sky carrying his love with it, he vowed to be strong for them. Because they would be together when this all ended.


No. They were saying no.

Tsukishima felt his blood run cold, his hands trembling in their hold on their own. Their eyes were so stern on him, decided. They were leaving him behind, going away to some foreign land. He hadn’t meant for it to turn out like this. There was no discussion, no final decision told to him. Just a note on the kitchen counter that morning explaining they were leaving and they didn’t know they were coming back.

“Do what you want,” his voice carried barely the edge of interest when they had approached him about the offer they had received from work, “not like it matters to me.” Initially, he had intended to give the message that it wasn’t his choice, it was theirs.  At the time he didn’t think that his words would land him here; begging for them to stay, any promise they needed ready at his lips.

“I’m going, Kei,” their voice was too level, too composed. It made Tsukishima want to scream, want to sob.

“Let’s talk about this. We–”

“I’m done talking.”

“But we didn’t–”

“Stop.” And he did. He stopped and he stared, throat straining around the lump that was growing larger and larger inside of it. “I’ve made my decision, end of discussion.”

He wanted to complain, yell that this wasn’t the end of the discussion, that it had barely begun. He wanted to apologize for so many things, too many things. He wanted them to say they would come back, that they would stay, that they would work things out. But no more words were spoken from them, they merely waited. His eyes dropped, his grip loosening yet still trying to hang on to anything he could. “Find me when you come back?” his voice was so small, he didn’t even know he could speak like that.

“We’ll see.”

And they left, without turning back. And Tsukishima let them go, watching the whole way. He’d wait, even if it was pointless, he’d wait for them forever.

#flashback | When we lived in Minnesota…

Nathan and I were enjoying a quiet and peaceful evening at home last night. We heard a ruckus outside and before you know it our faces were pressed up against the window glass in fascination as we watched a guy in his mid-fifties chase Jaxxon around the yard. We couldn’t exactly depict what Jaxxon had in his mouth, but whatever it was the guy wanted it back. Seeing as how the entire yard was a stinking, muddy mess we were positive this pursuit wouldn’t end well…for the guy. Denali was jumping around on the sidelines barking and growling; I believe she was cheering Jaxxon on - like normal when he’s up to his shenanigans. Nathan rushed to the front door, almost ripped it off the hinges and hollered, “What the hell is going on?” All three of them stopped dead in their tracks and peered up at Nathan. The guy comes up to the steps with his hand out looking for a handshake to start this meeting off on the right foot and starts rambling on about how we need more insurance. Oh GREAT; a door-to-door insurance salesman.

“Buddy it looks like YOU’RE the one that needs more insurance seeing as how it’s my 125lb dog you’re chasing around the yard.” By this time Jaxxon had dropped what was in his mouth and the guy picked it up out of the mud puddle trying - IN VAIN - to repair the damage to his little trinket which happened to be a clipboard with a map of the area on it.

“I climbed out of my van and before I knew it your dog was right beside me and tugging on my clipboard. Pretty soon he had it in his mouth and took off across the snow bank. I tried to go after him but wiped out in the mud. Your driveway is a mess.”

“One would think the dogs alone would deter strangers from coming into the yard let alone getting out of their vehicles. What can I do for you?”

Door-to-door insurance salesman starts telling us how everything we eat and drink is going to give us cancer, is bad for our heart and that we shouldn’t be leaving our family members to pay the price. Jaxxon and Denali were both standing, looking relaxed about 6 inches from this guy’s legs clearly bored out of their minds.

“Thank you for stopping by today and sorry for all of your troubles. I’m not interested at this time.” Believe it or not Nathan can be very cordial when he wants to be.

“Seriously after all that you don’t want to hear any more?” The guy shook his head – clearly annoyed, turned around and started down the steps but not before he stuffed the clipboard into his jacket. Jaxxon saw this and immediately assumed it was a game of hide and seek. Jaxxon started bouncing up and down in front of the salesman. Nathan hauled ass out the door, grabbed Jaxxon by his collar and hollered at the salesman to get moving. The guy took flight only to land - ONCE AGAIN - in another mud puddle just short of his van door. He managed to pick himself off the ground and make his way into his van.

When Nathan finally made his way back into the house I asked, “What was that all about?”

“Just some guy wanting to sell Jaxxon insurance. Jaxxon wasn’t interested, stole his clipboard and ran off.”

“What are you doing?”

Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, staring down at your boyfriend who was crouched on the floor trying to pick up a gooey substance off the floor.  Michael quickly looked up, raising his hands which were also covered in the brown substance, with a deer in the headlights look.  

“I, uh, kinda dropped my pudding..” He mumbled, looking back down on the floor where his brown desert had falling and stained the off white tiles of your kitchen.  

“Please don’t tell me you were going to do with I think you were going to do,” He looked back at the floor with a strained expression, as if it killed him to see the mess.”Michael, we talked about this, the three second rule doesn’t apply to sticky food,” you softly brushed his hair from his forehead, feet dodging the pudding on the floor. “just grab another one for the cupboards, yeah?” 

Your boyfriend hummed, pressing his head into your thigh. Gently tugging his hair to pull his head back, you placed a soft kiss against his lips. “Michael,” you whispered against his lips, “I love you,” Another kiss. “but I’m not cleaning up your mess.” 

As you walked away you could hear his groan from the other side of the house.  

Imagine how terrified Alexander Hamilton must have been when John Laurens decided to duel Charles Lee. I mean he could have died, right then, right there. Alexander was his second so he’d be attending the duel too. It must have crossed his mind more than once that he might be the one burying a body by the end of the day. Imagine him having laid his hand upon John’s shoulder right before, looked right in his eyes. Their eyes locked, a tear coming up while he realised how fond he’d grown to become of this man. How he could not lose him

So now that you have done that, it’s time to remember that that did not happen. John didn’t get hurt, he won. Imagine the relief when Alexander and Evan Edwards (Lee’s second) then put an end to the affair. The look in John’s eyes, knowing that he had won. The look in Alexander’s eyes when he realised it was over. That John was still alive. How their expressions softened when they looked each other in the eyes again, both feeling like it’d been a thousand years since the last look they’d shared. And then walking towards each other. Their pace fastening with every step, until they could finally put their arms around each other again. Burying their head in the neck of one another, breathing in, breathing out. Holding each other tighter, grateful to be alive.

formaldxhyde  asked:

There was a sharp thud, followed by a pained wail outside. A few seconds later, Cole ran inside, crying and searching for his mother. Evidently, he'd been trying to climb after Bunny in a tree and slipped, scraping his hands against the bark and falling on his knees. "Mommy!"

At hearing her son crying out Ebony jumped to her feet startling the sleeping dog in her lap as she quickly sprinted to find her son. 

“Cole what’s wrong are you hurt?” 

panic rushed through her voice as she knelt down looking him over, seeing the scrapes on his hands and checking for any serious injury.  

Oliver looked at his now bloody hand as slowly began to realize what he had done, breaking the bottle that used to haunt his nightmares. “I-I haven’t been drinking,” He immediately spoke as he turn to the face the person. “I swear.”

You guessed? You must have been pretty sure, considering you could have killed me.“
"I was ninety percent sure.”
“I see,” Clary said. There must have been something in her voice, because he turned to look at her. Her hand cracked across his face, a slap that rocked him back on his heels. He put his hands on his cheek, more in surprise than pain.
“What the hell was that for?”
“The other ten percent.” 
― Cassandra Clare, City of Bones