coloured-plaster

I’m feeling a bit nostalgic all of sudden, so what do I do? Right! Headcanon coming right up!

Imagine that somewhere in the future, years and years from now, Izuku is no longer the teenager he is now. He’s a grown man, a top hero, and has taken up the work his mentor has passed onto him – he is not a lone pillar like All Might once was, because there are other young heroes (mostly Class 1-A) right beside him, working together with him, but unofficially, the citizens talk about the hero “Deku” being the new Number One. It is as if All Might has come back, even stronger than before, some say.

One day, Toshinori is walking down the street, sunglasses perched on his nose, a hat drawn in deep to hide his features. People nowadays don’t make a fuss over him when they happen to recognize him, not anymore, but there are still a lot of All Might supporters out there. Whenever he doesn’t feel like getting too much attention, he disguises himself just enough to pass as a normal citizen.

Which he is, now. No hero, just a normal person coming back from buying groceries for lunch. 

It doesn’t bother him anymore. There are others who do his old job now, and he can safely say that they are doing a fabulous job at it.

 

But still… as he tilts his head back in order to stretch his aching neck a bit, his gaze lands on a poster. It’s colourful, slogan plastered over it, and a familiar mop of green hair is to be seen on it.

“Hero Deku – The movie! Coming soon!” it reads in big, bold letters.

Toshinori stops in his walk and reads it again. He has seen such posters often already. Deku’s face greets him everywhere he goes – pictures in newspapers, in commercials, action figures lining racks at the supermarket. It grins at him from T-Shirt that young Deku-fanboy’s and fangirls wear, proudly presenting their hero to the world.

Their hero.

Suddenly, the realization crushes down on Toshinori. Izuku… Izuku is a hero now. No, he is the hero, even more famous and stronger than All Might once was.

Izuku has reached his goal, fulfilled his dream.

A memory flashes before Toshinori’s inner eye – a shy, tense boy, nearing tears, asking him loudly and with a waver in his voice

“Can someone without a quirk become a hero like you?!”

A wide smile blooms on Toshinori’s face, warm affection and pride flooding him, letting tears well up in his eyes. Chuckling to himself, he pushes his sunglasses onto his forehead, rubbing at his eyes with the ball of his free hand. “Yeesh. I’m getting sentimental in my old age.”

There is a quick breathe next to him, before a high, breathless voice chirps from around his knees. “Are you All Might?”

Toshinori blinks the last tears back and looks down. There is a little boy standing next to him, big round eyes staring up at him reverently, little chubby fists clutching a familiar action figure painted mostly in green.

“Why, you’re right my boy,” Toshinori shifts and gets down on one knee in order to be on eye-level with the little one. A smile tugs at his lips. “I really used to be All Might.”

The boy’s eyes go even bigger, a feat that should have been impossible, and a wide, toothy grin spreads on the round face. “That’s so cool! You’re the real All Might!”

Toshinori laughs at that, hoarse but honest. The excitement reminds him of another fanboy…

“Did you really train Deku?”

The laugh trails off, turning into chuckles before Toshinori quieted completely, smiling nostalgically.

Once, he had been recognized for his deeds as All Might. Now, he was recognized as Deku’s teacher.

It made him feel ready to burst with pride, warmth swelling in his chest.

“Yes, I did,” he pats the boy’s head gently, chuckling at the happy squeak that gets him. “You’re well informed, young man.”

The grin widens even more, and the boy hops up and down in excitement, the Deku-figurine pressed to his chest. “I know everything about Deku! He’s my hero!”

“Is he now?”

“Yes! I want to be just like him when I grow up!”

Toshinori hums, half-listening as the boy rambles on, listing up feats that Deku has done, and why he thinks that Deku is the coolest hero out of all of them. All the while, Toshinori slips one hand into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out his phone, trying to catch a glimpse of the time.

Already five minutes late.

He will probably be worried by now, he muses, amusement and the beginning of an idea flickering through him.

“My boy.”

The little one stops, excited expression shifting into a mixture of embarrassment and worry. “O-Oh! Sorry, um, I know I always talk too much…”

“Not at all,” Toshinori calms him, smiling slightly. “But I wanted to know: What would you say if you accompany me for a bit? There is someone I would like you to meet.”

“Someone…?” for a second, the boy frowns, contemplating, before he beams again. After all, it is All Might he is talking with. “Okay!”

Toshinori gets up again, silently cursing his cracking knees – he really was getting old – gathering his grocery bags and resuming his walk. The boy kept up with his slow steps easily, hopping all the while, talking and talking and talking.

It brought a grin to Toshinori’s face. Fanboys were always the same, it seemed.

They turned the last corner, Toshinori’s home in sight right before them, as someone called out, “There you are! Yeesh, I was already getting worried here!”

The boy stopped hopping, basically freezing in spot, as a tall, green-haired man appeared right in front of them. He was huge, at least for the boy, only an inch or so smaller than All Might himself, broad shoulders hidden underneath a wide shirt reading “All M”

Toshinori just hummed, fumbling for his keys. “Hello to you too, my boy.”

The other snorted, shaking his head. “That’s all? Please call me next time when you’re late. The last time you didn’t show up in time, it was because you had run into another villain incident.”

“Bad luck. And you bailed me out from it easily,” Toshinori rumbled, shoving the younger aside gently in order to reach the door. “Stop pampering an old man like me, will you?”

“Never. And don’t call yourself old” in a gesture not very fitting for a grown man, the younger stuck his tongue out at the blond, getting punched lightly in the shoulder for it.

Only then did the man notice that his former teacher had company. Green eyes blinked as they locked onto the frozen little boy who was staring up at him in wonder. “Oh? Who is…?”

“You’re Deku!” the little boy breathed reverently, even more fascinated by the fact that his hero was standing in front of him than he had been by the sight of All Might himself.

“Um. Yes?” A sheepish smile appeared on Izuku’s face as he scratched the back of his head. “Hello there!”

“You’re really, really Deku!”

“Ummmm…” Izuku’s gaze shifted from the excited little fanboy towards his mentor, helpless, silently saying Help, I’m overwhelmed.

Toshinori barely managed to bite back a snort, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Izuku, meet your number one fanboy.”

“I’m Taiki!” The boy was beaming now, eyes ablaze with happiness at the sight of his idol. “And you’re the coolest hero ever!”

“Eh?” Izuku’s smile was more relaxed now. He was familiar with the excitement one felt when meeting his idol, after all. “That’s a very nice thing of you to say, Taiki, thank you.”

“Oh, oh! Can I have your autograph? Please? That would be so great!”

“Of course you can. Wait, I do have a pen somewhere…”

 

Toshinori stopped in the open door, leaning against the doorframe as he watched his student and Taiki. Izuku had crouched down in front of the boy, signing the offered notebook (“I read on the internet that you used to take notes of everything, Deku!” – “I still do that, actually.”)

Another warm, overwhelming feel of pride wells up inside the blond, and he can feel himself smiling softly.

Izuku catches that, lifting an eyebrow. “What?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re smiling at me.”

“Can’t I be proud of my boy?” Toshinori gives back easily.

Izuku’s expression changes into something bright, happy, warm, and he smiles widely.

Toshinori clears his throat, pushing himself off from the doorframe. “Well, I should get started on lunch, I guess.”

Taiki’s smile falls, and he looks up from the autograph he had just admired. “Oh. Should I…?”

“You,” Izuku interrupted him softly, “Should try and call your parents to ask if you can stay for lunch.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but then, Taiki’s whole face lights up. “Really?!”

“M-hm,” Izuku’s gaze flickers over to his mentor quickly, before he mock-whispers “Toshi- All Might always cooks too much, you know. He thinks I would starve otherwise.”

“I do not,” Toshinori admonishes from where he is kicking of his shoes already. “I know your mother. She would never let you starve.”

“Still not sure about that!” Izuku quips back, laughing, before he turns to his young fanboy again. “What do you think, Taiki?”

The boy’s face is almost splitting under his big grin. “I will call them!”

Toshinori watches, smiling, as the young fanboy scrambles to call his parents, while Izuku waits at the doorstep patiently.

Yes. Izuku really has come a long way.

Izuku looks over his shoulder, catching Toshinori smiling absentmindedly again, and he laughs at his mentor happily. “I still can’t believe that I have fanboys now! That’s so awesome!”

 

Toshinori blinks, shaking his head, grinning back.

But some things would never change.

 

“You’re too modest, Izuku.”

OKAY SO i know no one even ASKED for this but this came up on my dash 

and it was like the idea just formed fully all at once in my head like the whole damn thing just all of it and i couldn’t help myself so here it is this is my first time writing a fic and its ALL FLUFF don’t sue me i just couldn’t stop myself

@selflessbellamy i don’t know if this will even mildly satisfy you or if you’ll even enjoy it but i also wish bell and clarke could live in a world where dancing is a thing so here goes


set up: the unity day masquerade dance (the same one octavia gets arrested at)

Clarke’s at the Unity Day masquerade dance, alone, all because Wells had cadet training. When Clarke complained to him, he just said to go make new friends. “Life doesn’t happen just in Alpha station, Clarke.” Well, of course she knew that, she worked in med bay after all. But after her dad started berating her on wasting the best, most carefree years of her life by sitting on the couch watching old soccer games, she grabbed her mom’s old masquerade mask and huffed out the door, grumbling the entire way to the mess. 

After dancing solo to a few upbeat songs, she knew coming was a mistake when they started playing a slow song. A waltz, if she remembered correctly. Internally groaning, she was jostled and shoved until she found herself on the sidelines of the dance, watching as everyone grabbed a partner and began dancing. This was the nice thing about the Unity Day dance. For one night, when the masks were on, no one cared if you came from Farm station or Mecha, Factory, or Alpha. Everyone just… was. Was having a good time, that is, except for Clarke. Standing alone like a total loser. Of course this had to be the year there was an odd number of kids at the dance. 

All of a sudden, someone grabbed her hand and was whisking her into the crowd. Between the lights, music, quick spinning movements, and probability that someone had spiked the punch (she would bet two weeks of rations that it was that engineering kid Monty, from Farm Station), she couldn’t see where or who she had ended up with. Steadying herself by placing her hands out around her, she clutched the zipper of a jacket. A guard jacket, she realized as she took in the black colour, plastered with Ark regalia. Looking up, she began to demand, “Who-”, but when her eyes landed on the guardsman’s face, the words died out in her throat. The guy was seriously gorgeous. Tan, caramel-coloured skin, with a smattering of freckles and dark, warm, brown eyes, framed by a mess of black hair she knew was just barely restrained by the hair gel, all topped off with a self-righteous smirk. All she could manage to say was, “Oh…”, her voice trailing off as her demanding questions vanished from recent memory.

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Runaway Pt.2 | Taehyung (M)

Originally posted by pannaluca99

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Drabbles

Summary: Bad boy Tae takes an interest in innocent you and, even though you know he’s toxic, you can’t help but love him.

Word Count: 7,391

Genre: Angst and smut so pls beware

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read part 1 and sent me lovely messages! It makes me happy knowing so many of you liked it :’) (and don’t worry, there will be a part 3!)

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After four hours since the battle had end, they finally found him. They found his body among their dead comrades, their corpses scattered around his.

His skin was grey coloured. His dark hair plastered with blood. His lifeless eyes half lid. His black clothes hid the blood, there was a tear on his clothing, in a lower abdomen, there a gapping hole.

His bow laid beside him, broken in half.

There was a sound, loud and high-pitched. It took a moment for Magnus to realize it was Isabelle screaming. It was heartbreaking to hear her heart-wrenching scream.

Magnus had froze once he set his eyes on Alec. His heart seized up. A deadly tremors throughout his wearing body. His mind was yelling at him, telling him that Alec was safe, that whoever laid there was someone’s brother, son, lover. But his heart, and Isabelle’s soul-wrenching cries was telling him otherwise.

His eyes were already burned from the stench of burnt and decaying bodies, had caused tears glossed around his eyes. Now it was running down on his cheeks.

It was getting hard to breath, painful even. His lungs burned as if he was drowning.

Magnus couldn’t hear and see at anything or anyone else, and breathe any longer.

It was painful, too painful to look away. His eyes stayed on Alec solely. Everything around him doesn’t matter anymore.

They won the dark war, but it was meaningless now.

Stare Game

Title: Stare Game

Genre: fluff

Words: 2.8K

Warnings: none unless you get triggered by extreme sexual tension, in which case avoid this fic.

Beta: arcticphan

Summary: Dan and Phil play the ‘look into each other’s eyes and see who laughs first’ game but it ends up going in a quite different direction… (friends to lovers fic)

A/N: I can feel myself not going to post much in the next few weeks as school is taking overhand…

Phil let his hand go through his sweaty fringe, yawning loudly to himself. His eyes drifted from his laptop screen to the clock every few seconds; 2 am. He’d been editing his new video all day. He yawned again. He had told himself, sternly, to finish editing early, but somehow the complicated techniques of editing had been swapped for the addicting quirkiness of tumblr, and he had shamefully missed his deadline.

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Kiss it better

For oxfordlunch and jamlockk (I started writing this Sunday but couldn’t get it to flow, but finished it today with the lovely Jam in mind)


Graham Michael Watson-Holmes has all the curiosity of his Papa and all the bravery of his Dad. This volatile combination means the fearless boy is constantly getting into scrapes.

John has always had medical supplies to hand for Sherlock, but now his kit includes an assortment of colourful and themed plasters especially for Graham. The most recent batch is pirate themed, because the 6 year old takes after his Papa that way.

Even wounds that don’t actually need a plaster are made better by the application of a pirate flag and a kiss from Dad.

One unexpectedly exothermic reaction and shattered Erlenmeyer flask later, John is examining Sherlock in their loo, checking for any injuries.

Silky curls have been combed free of any lingering shards, and John runs an antiseptic swab over a small slice on one of those heart-breaking cheekbones.

“Pretty much unscathed,” is John’s final diagnosis. “Unlike the worktop,” he adds with a wry grin at Sherlock, packing up his med kit once more.

Pale, violin callused fingers catch John’s wrist before he closes the bag. “No plaster?”

John shakes his head, but he’s grinning. He digs into the bag once more and swiftly covers the small scrape. The skull-and-crossbones are now emblazoned across Sherlock’s right cheek. “There.”

Once John might have thought that Sherlock would protest the frankly childish plaster, but instead he receives that grin… the genuine one that is just for John, not the quick smirk seen by others, but a beaming smile that slowly takes over his whole face.

John snaps the bag shut and heads to put it away in their bedroom closet, when he’s finds himself captured and pressed against the loo door by his taller husband.

“What about my kiss? You always kiss it better when Graham gets hurt,” Sherlock rumbles, somehow managing to sound both sultry and petulant. John leans up and brushes a chaste kiss over the plaster on his cheekbone.

“There. And after you go sweep up the kitchen and make sure there aren’t any shards that Graham or I might step on…come to bed and I’ll make sure all of you is better, hmm?” His brow arches as he gives Sherlock a significant look.

A token sigh of protest, but Sherlock releases him and they head out of bathroom.

As Sherlock heads back towards the kitchen to clean up his mess, the Jolly Roger a dark slash across his pale cheek, John can’t help but grin.

Tutor [JiKook]

Originally posted by lethargicmin

Summary: In which Jimin is Jungkook’s American History tutor, and Jungkook can’t help but fall for his tutor.

Word count: 2 056

Type: Angst / Fluff

Pairing: Jikook

A/N: This scenario is the first scenario posted according to our OTP Month. yay! I sincerely hope yiu baby stars do enjoy this scenario, and many others that will be coming up soon! Just a warning, I was reading The Perks Of Being A Wallflower while I was in the middle of writing this, so this scenario will be kind of triggering? depressing? I’m sorry if it is! There will be happy and fluffy scenarios posted soon, I promise! x

Happy reading! x


-


“Jungkook?”


“Yes?”


“Are you even listening to me?”


Jungkook was pulled out of his deep stare which was purely concentrated on the magical crafting of Jimin’s hands that delicately pushed away the sight of his phone that displayed a text from someone Jungkook saw didn’t have a name in Jimin’s phone but a red heart emoji. Jungkook frowned when he saw that. Of course, Jimin just had to be taken, he was too beautiful not to be.


“Honestly, no.” Jungkook answered Jimin - his American History tutor - with a simple and closed mouth smile.


Jimin chuckled lightly at the younger boy’s honesty, glancing over at his phone that lit up once again, this time showing that Jimin was getting a call from this ‘heart emoji’ person. Jungkook rolled his eyes at the sight. Jimin sheepishly apologized, taking his phone as he stood up from his chair and walked away to talk to the “heart emoji person” in private. But Jungkook was the nosy type, especially when it came to Jimin, and hid behind a white painted wall and quietly listened to Jimin’s conversation.


“I’m at Jungkook’s house.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just tutoring the boy.”

“I’m really tutoring him!”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Jimin was quiet for a while and Jungkook debated whether the heart emoji person had hung up on him or just had a lot to say. Just then, he heard Jimin sniff and right at that moment, he knew Jimin had started crying.


“…Okay.”

“I love you.”


The sad thing is, the heart emoji person never said he loved Jimin back and just hung up the phone, leaving him standing there all alone in that chilly hallway with a heart that had a hole which grew bigger and bigger the longer he stayed in his current relationship. Jungkook nibbled on his bottom lip, shaking his head in disapproval as he thought of why would Jimin get into a relationship with someone who always made him cry, or always made him feel bad about himself. He really couldn’t understand why.


Jungkook quietly walked back to the room that they were both studying in, heating Jimin walk in moments afterwards, his eyes puffy and a pale red colour. Jimin plastered a smile to his face, the fake smile pulling Jungkook’s heart into two opposite directions as he heard Jimin say, “Umm, that’s all for today. I’ve got really important stuff to do right now. I’m sorry, and I hope you understand.”


Jungkook didn’t understand, but as always, whenever Jimin said this, he let him go and stayed up late that night, staring up at the dark ceiling and just thinking of why did he let Jimin go.



The next day at school, he saw Jimin with bruises that littered his precious face - a pale purple bruise around his right eye, a cut lip and bruised nose. Jungkook heavily sighed when he saw this, regretting that he let Jimin go but even if he tried to convince Jimin to stay, Jimin was loyal to his heart emoji significant other and would leave Jungkook, who actually loved him.


Jungkook stood by his rusting locker, placing his books into his locker without a thought as he stared at Jimin, who wasn’t that far away from where he stood. Jimin was frantically searching through his locker, almost looking petrified as he looked for something he had presumably lost.


Suddenly, a boy, not even remotely attractive in Jungkook’s opinion creeped up on Jimin. Jimin froze when he realized someone was behind him, his chest not moving for a long moment before he slowly turned around and smiled nervously at the boy.


Jungkook arched his eyebrow, questioning what was going on before he witnessed Jimin lean in and just about to kiss the boy on the lips, but the boy brought his book to his face which resulted in Jimin kissing the surface of the book.


Jungkook watched on in surprise as Jimin flushed a pastel pink that showed how embarrassed he sincerely was, his boyfriend talking to Jimin, the boy nodding so quickly that Jungkook thought his head might fall off before Jimm shut his locker, running after his boyfriend, bumping into Jungkook in the process.


“Sorry.” Jimin instantly apologized as he collided with Jungkook, in too much of a rush to see that it was Jungkook he bumped into and quickly ran after his abusive boyfriend, Jungkook watching the whole scene with a deep frown spread across his face.


  ➖


“What was the period in American History where the Stock Market crashed and banks ran out of money, resulting in many people losing their jobs and having little money?” Jimin questioned Jungkook, who sat with his hands in lap while Jimin walked behind him, not wanting him to see the bruises on his face (even though Jungkook did see them).


“The Great Depression?” Jungkook spoke unsurely, the uncertainty in his voice bringing a smile to Jimin’s face that always made an appearance whenever he was around Jungkook.


  “Correct. You’re improving, Jungkook,” Jimin praised young Jungkook, reaching his hand out and lovingly ruffling Jungkook’s hair, the younger boy smiling a lovesick smile while he could physically feel his heart grow more and more fond of his tutor. “Okay, onto the next question. What was the 1920’s time period called? And what did people in the city do for entertainment?”


“The Roaring 20’s,” Jungkook answered diligently, nodding his head as if he was confirming to himself that he was indeed right, “And the people in the cities went to the movies for entertainment.”


“What kind of movies did they watch and why were they so popular?” Jimin further questioned, clutching the American History text book to his chest as he stared directly Jungkook, his eyes never growing tired of taking in the younger boy’s features - from his dark brown hair that gradually grew curly as time passed by to the pinkness of his small lips. Jungkook was a perfect painting of perfection, and was nice enough to Jimin that it made his heart swell with delight, knowing that there was actually someone out there who cared about him.


“They watched silent movies,” Jungkook answered, “But…I’m not sure about the other question.”


“You can try. I believe in you.” Jimin encouraged the boy, the boy turning his head and looking up at Jimin, the lighting in the room making him appear as some heavenly angel as his eyes sparkled and his white clothing just whispered heavenly over and over again. “Because there was a lot of immigrants that went to America that didn’t speak English, but could still enjoy the movie.” Jungkook answered proudly, showcasing his precious bunny smile that caused Jimin to smile as well, his eyes beginning to smile themselves.


“Correct!” Jimin cheered, the boys giving one another a high-five before Jimin said, “I told you you could do it.”


The boys just stared at each other for a long moment, taking in each other’s features and thinking how God damn beautiful and angelic the other one was and desperately wishing that somehow, someway they could be together. Even if it was for just one day. Just one day.



“Jimin? Where the fuck are you?!”


Jimin’s eyes widened, fear quickly pumping through his veins as he remained paralyzed for a split second before his hands began to shake. Jungkook raised his eyebrow, wondering who could of walked straight into his house without his permission, but didn’t have to wonder long as Jimin’s boyfriend walked into the room.


“Jimin? What the fuck? We were suppose to meet up thirty minutes ago!” Jimin’s boyfriend raised his voice, Jimin shaking at the sound of his loud voice as he looked down at the ground.


Jimin slowly turned around, holding the textbook close to his chest and hoping to God or whatever higher power that this wouldn’t always end up like it always did. He didn’t want anyone to know, especially Jungkook. He was too pure to know of such ugly things that happen to some people.


“I’m sorry,” Jimin apologized sincerely, hating that he found himself saying exactly this phrase repeatedly around his boyfriend. “I lost track of time.”


“You always lose track of time,” Jimin’s boyfriend complained with an angered expression growing on his face, “Once in a while, put me first, kay?”


“I’m so-” Jimin was just about to apologize yet again, but Jungkook interrupted him. “You’re such a dick.”


Jimin’s eyes suddenly enlarged, looking over at Jungkook and giving him a warning look that screamed don’t get involved but after seeing how mistreated Jimin was by the one person that was suppose to treat him best and how many scars and bruises his boyfriend caused, Jungkook couldn’t help but ignore Jimin’s warning gaze and finally do what he should of done a long time ago.


“What did you say?” Jimin’s boyfriend quizzed, pretending as if he didn’t hear Jungkook to make the younger boy rethink his words.


Jungkoook stood up, Jimin not taking this as a sign that something bad was to come and just watched as Jungkook stood before his boyfriend and said, “Did I stutter?”


Jimin’s boyfriend let out a snicker of amusement, looking past Jungkook, who stood before him with an intimidating look and said to Jimin, “You’ve got to be kidding me. This must be some kind of lame joke.”


“I’m afraid there’s no joke here, except you, of course.” Jungkook retorted with a teasing raised eyebrow, standing tall before a guy who was a few years older than him.


Out of nowhere, Jimin’s boyfriend had grabbed the front of Jungkook’s shirt with a tight grip, Jungkook not even shocked or surprised by the action while Jimin cried out, “Don’t hurt him! Please!”


“You’re a little punk, aren’t you?” Jimin’s boyfriend whispered, his words oozing with poison venom. “Stay out of this. It’s none of your fucking business.”


“It is my business when the person I love is being abused by someone who isn’t even remotely attractive.” Jungkook answered truthfully, Jimin looking up from his gaze on the ground and batting his eyelashes, stunned that Jungkook would make such a revelation, especially at this moment in time.


That’s it.” Jimin’s boyfriend stated, all before all hell broke lose, the sound of pained groans and bodies hitting the ground echoing throughout the cold house.


Jimin rushed over as soon as he saw Jungkook dodge a punch from his boyfriend, but receive one from Jungkook. He tried to pull them away from one another, risking getting injured but he didn’t care - he just wanted everything to just stop. Eventually, the fight did come to an end, Jimin’s boyfriend standing up from the wooden floor, spitting out a mouthful of blood before he loudly said, “We’re done, Jimin.” and then left.


Jimin stared out the open door for a long moment, realizing that he was now a free man and didn’t have to attend to his needs anymore because they were no longer dating. He hadn’t felt this alive and this happy in a long time. He turned to Jungkook, a soft smile of happiness spread across his face as he held out his hand, Jungkook giving the boy that bunny smile that Jimin loved endlessly before Jimin helped him up.


“Thanks,” Jungkook thanked the boy with a bashful smile and blush tinted cheeks, “I’m just gonna go and take care of these bruises.”


Jimin only nodded, Jungkook letting out a small sigh before he turned to walk towards the bathroom, his footsteps coming to a halt when he heard Jimin ask, “Did you really mean what you said back there?”


Jungkook stared down at the ground, a fond smile gradually developing on his face as he reminisced about all the times he had spent with Jimin and realized that, oh god he was in love with him. “Yes, I did.”


Jungkook heard the sounds of Jimin’s bare feet softly scrape against the smooth wooden floor, the footsteps drawing even closer and closer before Jimin’s vanilla scent filled his nostrils as he felt Jimin wrap his arms around him from the back. They remained in this position for had seemed like eternity, but was really only a long minute. Jimin smiled, breathing in Jungkook’s scent of cheap cologne and sunshine and responded with, “I love you, too.”


-


Our ask box is currently open, so feel free to request any scenarios, recations, drabbles, imagines, snaps & texts, convo imagines, selca ships, mtl’s and written ships! x

I love you precious and beautiful baby stars! x

XOXO Admin Tina :)xx

~ Masterlist

PruCan Week

Day Two:

I am stringing these chapters together into a single love story that takes place over twenty years.  I chose ‘Treasured Memory’ for the second day of the challenge although ‘Childhood’ still applies.  The characters are eight and nine years old.

Treasured Memory

“Holy crap!  Your room is so clean!”

Gilbert dropped his backpack in the centre of the bedroom and twirled around in a circle.  Matthew had tucked his clothes into a basket in the corner, stacked his toys in a wooden crate, and turned down his blankets for the evening.  His pajamas were folded and laid out on the pillow.  His stuffed bear was on the windowsill. 

It was the first time that Gilbert had ever been allowed to sleepover at his house.

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Settle Down With Me.

After chapter and chapter of TTDP, (don’t worry it’s still on going), I decided to take a break and do a little one shot. This is inspired from an prompt given by the lovely destiny919 and the song “Kiss Me” by Ed Sheeran aka my other boyfriend. This was written and listed via my phone so sorry for any errors etc. Hope you enjoy!

“Almost there Lydia, I promise. Hold on”.
The bedroom door burst open to reveal a soaking wet Stiles who was carrying a equally rain drenched Lydia. Her face was hidden against his neck and although her hands were clinging to him tightly, she was weak in his arms.
“We’re home now Lydia, you’re okay. We’re going to get you warm and dry.” The boy carefully placed her onto his bed before diving into his bathroom to retrieve a bundle of towels.
He kneeled beside his unmade bed, Lydia looking tiny in the mess of blankets. She was shivering, her usual vibrant curls now a dark auburn colour and plastered across her pale cheeks.
Her lips were blue.

Panic rose in Stiles’ chest and it came bubbling out of him in a rush of words as he watched the girl slowly close her eyes.
“Lydia! Hey Lydia, wake up. Come on, keep those eyes open for me.”
Lydia’s eyes fluttered and her faze was unfocused as it rested upon the boys face.
Recollection came back to her as she realised she was in Stiles bedroom.
She had had a banshee episode, a horrifically strong and powerful one. She was led into the woods by unseen force and she screamed until her throat was raw and her tears couldn’t be controlled. She screamed for what seemed hours in the relentless rain that slammed into her from the purple skies.
When Scott, Stiles and the sheriff arrived, she had taken one look at then, broken her scream and fell to the ground.

Stiles had taken her home. He had carried her to and from his keep, his own body holding little warmth as he cradled her small frame. Her eyes flickered again, the dim light from the lamp beside her illuminating the features of the concerned boy.
He sighed in relief as she came to once more.
“Hey pretty girl, welcome back.”
If Lydia had the energy, she would have blushed.
Her voice hoarse and broken, her lips numb and painful, she managed to whisper: “I’m so cold Stiles”.

The boy leapt into action and within minutes her soaked jacket was eased from her shoulder, her shoes placed on the warming radiator. A towel was wrapped around her limp curls and the boy hesitated at the zip of her dress.
Lydia gave a small, sleepy smile, “It’s okay. I don’t have the energy Stiles, my arms won’t reach. I’m too cold”. She gave another violent shudder that made Stiles’ mind up.
Delicately, he unzipped her floral dress and flung it to the corner of the room were it was already forming a puddle of water.
He would deal with it later.

Stiles did is his best to keep his eyes downcast, but having Lydia Martin in his bed in only her emerald green underwear, was proving difficult.
She shivered again. Her usually creamy skin looked deathly pale and her lips were now tinged a frightening shade of purple.
Stiles ran his hands up and down her bare arms and legs soothingly, hoping and praying that she would warm quickly.
Another tremor ran through Lydia’s body and Stiles’ voice held fear when he groaned, “I don’t know what to do. Will I run a bath? Help me help you, Lydia, please-“
He was cut off by a murmur of words that barely left her lips, however, he heard her - loud and clear.
“Take your clothes of Stiles and get into bed with me.”

Settle down with me.
Cover me up, cuddle me in.

The boy swallowed noisily and gaped at her through hooded, chocolate eyes. His rain soaked hair was a mess that fell across his forehead.
With shaking hands, he pushed his fringe back and his eyes met hers.
“What?”
Even through her pain and shaking, Lydia managed to roll her eyes.
“Body heat,” she ground out through shivers, “Skin to skin contact. It’ll help us both warm up faster”.
Never one to argue with Lydia, Stiles simply nodded and lowered his hands to the hem of his shirt.
“Lydia, are you sure-“.
The girl let out a whimper as another tremor rocked through her. Her voice was hoarse and weak as she moaned, “Goddammit Stiles, please!”

Lie down with me, and hold me in your arms.

He didn’t question her again and he peeled his wet top off of his body; it fell to the floor with a heavy smack. His hands stalled at his belt buckle and he shivered from both the cold and nerves.
He gazed down at Lydia who had cocooned herself in his duvet. Her eyes were dull and hazy, her teeth chattering angrily against each other. With a sigh of resolution, he quickly undid his belt and jeans button, the dark denim falling quickly to the floor with the weight of the water.

He carefully slid into bed beside Lydia in only his boxers as she held the covers open for him with weak and shaking arms.
In an instant, she was by his side, her ice cold skin making him gasp and flinch.
“I’m sorry!” She mumbled.
“It’s okay, don’t worry”, Stiles soothed, “Come here”. He held his arms open for her and within seconds she was in them.

And your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed in my neck.
I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.
And with a feeling I’ll forget, I’m in love now.

Lydia moved without hesitation, practically climbing onto the boys lap and into his warm, open arms.
She intertwined their bare legs without a second though, skin on skin and achingly warm. She trembled still and Stiles held her tighter. With careful consideration, he placed one arm on her lower back, avoiding the band of her bra and he rubbed soothing circles into her skin. The other hand fell naturally on her hip, where he held tight, pulling her tiny, freezing body into his own - willing his warmth to transfer to her quickly.
They sat surround by pillow, blankets and each other in complete silence. The rain was the only sound as it continuously battered against the window.
“So, this is scientifically proven huh?” Stiles voice spoke softly into her hair.
Still too cold to exert too much energy, Lydia simply nodded against his chest.
“I should start paying more attention in class”.
Despite the situation, Lydia let out a breath of laughter and Stiles smiled. The girl shifted until her head face was pressed into his neck and he felt her lips pressed there - the coldness radiating off of them in waves. Her eyelashes tickled his skin and he could feel her heart match the beat of his own inside his chest.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes and both wondered over the fact that they felt minimal embarrassment despite their current predicament.
Their friendship didn’t call for them to see each other partially dressed - never mind wrapped up in each other in bed. Nevertheless, Stiles held Lydia with ease and she had no problem sighing contentedly into his chest. Stiles marvelled at Lydia’s skin - it’s was still so cold but it was amazingly soft and smooth. His hands went on a journey of their own over her waist and down her hips, round and across her arms and back. Eventually his fingers trailed lazily up and down her sides; to which Lydia only moved closer to. Her shivers had subsided and Stiles asked how she was feeling.
The girl shifted and looked up at him from her spot on his chest. She smiled tiredly and spoke with a hushed voice.
“I’m okay. I’m not as cold, you’re nice and warm”. To prove her point, she draped herself back across his body and wrapped her arms around him.

Kiss me like you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved.
This feels like falling in love, falling in love. We’re falling in love.

He pressed an innocent kiss to her now drying curls, before softly untangling the ends that lay splayed across her shoulders. Lydia smiled and in return, pressed a soft, cold kiss to his collarbone. She watched from under her eyelashes in fascination as his skin erupted in goosebumps.
Curious and probably still a little out of it, she placed another to his skin. And another, this time higher and on his shoulder. Next, she bravely placed her open lips onto his neck.
Stiles had stilled, dropping a lock of hair and was watching Lydia with surprised eyes.
She lifted her head and met his amazed expression with a small, shy smile.
“What you doing there, pretty girl?”

Settle down with me, and I’ll be your safety.
You’ll be my lady.

Lydia didn’t really have an answer for her actions, instead she continued to smile and simply shrugged - letting herself tumble back into the warmth he now radiated. She smiled warmly at his words and what he had called her - so used to normally hearing “hot” and the gentlemanly “nice ass babe”. His arms went back around her and minutes passed before his hands mapped out her skin once more.
This time, they travelled across the top of her thighs, warming each cold spot that had previously been neglected. Within seconds, Lydia was burning and she lay still - hardly breathing - as she let Stiles explore.
He never wandered too far, his rough plans remaining fairly chaste. As they slid along her hips and across the dip in her waist, Lydia became dangerously warm and eventually lifted her head to meet his gaze once more.

I was made to keep your body warm,
but I’m cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms.

The room was bathed in silence, even the rain had stopped it’s unrelenting roar. Moonlight flooded through the slightly open curtains and Lydia inhaled sharply at the molten chocolate eyes that started back at her. Her mouth parted involuntarily as Stiles ran his thumb ever so gently across her bottom lip. His touch left a trail of fire.
His voice was deep and hoarse as he said, “Your lips are better. They’re not blue anymore”. His eyes slowly surveyed her face, always watching for a sign that he had stepped too far, too much out of their friendship boundaries. He never did.
Lydia could only nod dumbly; she was now aware more than ever of her scantily clad body, Stiles’ own bare chest and the growing heat between her legs.
With careful movements, Stiles placed his large hands on each side of Lydia’s waist and he pulled her into him. With her now sitting between his legs, she was closer than ever and he could see the tiny freckles that were dusted across her cheeks.
Her wide eyes blinked at him curiously as he delicately tucked a stray curl behind her ear. He licked his lips and nerves were evident on his face.

Oh no.
My heart’s against your chest, your lips pressed in my neck.
I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.
And with this feeling I’ll forget, I’m in love now.

“Lydia, can I kiss you?” His voice was broken and hushed, in fact, Lydia barely heard him.
At his words, the girls heart trembled and soared against her ribcage. No one had ever asked her that. No one ever asked, they expected. Her throat clenched at the silly tears that threatened to escape and she smiled a watery smile as she nodded.
Joy erupted on the boys face and Stiles took her face in his hands.
Moving closer, the tip of his nose brushed hers and her heart leapt once more. Stiles could feel her long lashes fan out across his cheeks and they shared a breath.

Kiss me like you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved.
This feels like falling in love, falling in love. We’re falling in love.

Their lips met softly and without any rush nor hesitation. Like their bodies, they fit together perfectly. Their kiss was gentle and delicate and achingly tender.
Stiles held Lydia like she was the most precious thing in the world and the girl was ready to burst at the sweetness of it all.
Instead, she moved as close as she could and wound her arms around his neck - sinking her fingers into his thick hair. He groaned at the contact and their kiss deepened, tongues meeting tongues and teeth nibbling at lips.
With heavy breaths and overheated bodies and minds - they eventually separated - staring at once another with hooded eyes and parted lips.
Catching his breath, Stiles ran a finger along her collarbone: “Feeling warmer?”
Struggling to speak, Lydia simply nodded and let herself fall into his arms again, delirious with emotions.
They lay together, wrapped up in one another all night. They shared body heat and more slow, burning kisses.
Eventually they fell asleep the way they had started their night, intertwined with each other.

I’m in love now.

anonymous asked:

I WAS THE ANON WHO REQUESTED THE AKASKI S/O BROKE HER WRIST AND I KNOW THE ASK BOX IS CLOSED (????? Is it????) BUT I NEED A FLUFFY PART TWO WITH LOTS OF KISSES PLEASE

-TRIES TO GET OVER WRITER’S BLOCK- IM SO SORRY THE FIRST PART WAS ANGSTY T - T HOPE THIS MAKES YOU FEEL ALL SDKLGJSDKLJDGAS PANICKY AKASHI IS A NICE O/C AKASHI [I remember my physic teacher’s son broke both of his arms and he got christmas coloured plaster sOOO im pretty sure you can get any colour plaster o u o]
[D/H] = dominant hand aka the one you use to write with.

l PART 1 l

-ADMIN NANACCHI

You were sitting in a wheel chair, swinging your feet contently despite the situation you were in. Sure you had broken your wrist and got a few bruises, but it was okay. Looking down at your hand you eyed the [F/C] plaster. It was tightly bounded around your wrist and you felt your shoulders tense up as you realized how many weeks you would have to have it on.

Stairs and you had never been friends; despite constant warnings from friends, family and even Akashi telling you to walk slower and take your time on them, you kept running up and down staircases without a care. That was mistake one. Mistake number two was how not looking at your feet while you walked down with your backpack that was filled with textbooks. Mistake three? Falling on your [D/H].You weren’t sure who helped you to the hospital since you lost consciousness a few minutes after, but all you knew now was that you had to stay overnight just to make sure nothing internally had been damaged. 

When you got a call from Akashi’s chauffeur saying they would be coming, you had taken it upon yourself to wheel out of your room and towards the elevator. Unfortunately moving yourself with one hand was not the easiest thing to do and soon you were out of breath, beads of sweat falling from your forehead. “Need help?” You smiled shyly when a nurse walking into the hall noticed you. Just as you nodded, she hand her hands gripped on the handles, ready to push you to wherever you were going. 

Just as you were about to board the elevator, the doors opened to reveal a panicked looking Akashi. As his eyes met yours, the tenseness in his face seemed to disappear-he moved towards you, bowing slightly to the nurse. “Thank you for taking care of my girlfriend.” 

“O-Oh,” The nurse looked a bit taken aback, “it’s not problem. Part of the job you know.” 

“I can take it from here.” Without another word Akashi took the handles of your wheelchair and pushed you back to your room. “What happened?” He asked.

“W-Well, I had a lot of homework so I stuffed my bag with all my textbooks and went down the stairs with [Best Friend] when I slipped and…” You raised your plastered hand to his eyes. “…this happened.”  You suddenly recalled the sickening cracking sound you heard when you fell.It was a loud crunch that immediately sent waves of pain throbbing in your wrist. You felt nauseous almost. 

At your room he stopped and pulled a chair towards you so he can face you. You gulped at how close he was; the way his eyes seemed to roam everywhere. “A-Akashi you’re making me nervous.” 

Ignoring your comment Akashi leaned closer, taking a better look at any exposed skin.  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He placed his hand on your forehead, frowning slightly. “You’re pale, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I-I-I’m fine. I j-just have some bruises.” You bit your lip. 

He sighed as he moved his hand away. Instead he cupped your cheeks and placed his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, his thumbs moved in small, gentle circles. “I thought it was more serious.”

You pouted. “Why would you think that?” 

“Because,” You froze as he opened his eyes; his stare more intense, “you are my everything.” 

“Wh-” You took a sharp breath as he tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips on yours as he leaned in. Akashi teased you as he ran his fingers on them. He let them linger slightly before moving in to bite your bottom lip. When he saw you tense up, he shook with silent laughter. Noticing your eyes droop to a close, he brought his lips to yours. 

It became a sweet kiss; gentle; soft; reassuring. You ran a hand through his soft locks, nudging him closer as you yearned for the usual kisses he gave you-the rough ones. You felt Akashi smirk as you did so, but instead of taking the hint, all he did was pull back much to your dismay. 

Moving from his seat, he kissed the top of your head and pulled you into his chest. You nuzzled closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. “You make me crazy.” Akashi mumbled as he inhaled the familiar scent he loved. “Don’t do that again.” 

Smiling, Akashi watched as you cuddled up to him. He knew he overreacted earlier, but really it was worth it-the anxiety he felt became the calm and serene feeling he had now; it made him feel peaceful. The comfort of knowing his girlfriend was okay made everything in his life seem alright again; it made Akashi for the first time realize that perhaps winning your heart was the best victory he may ever have the pleasure of calling his best achievement in life. 

anonymous asked:

Headcanon: Bones would totally call Spock and Jim's daughter "little goblin."

bones would just turn to mush in t’androma’s presence like he adores babies in general but a teeny weeny one with huge blue eyes and pointy little ears and jim kirk’s smile just destroys him he’s drawn to her like a freakin magnet every time she’s in the room

and then when she’s older whenever she knows she’s in trouble with her fathers she just goes running straight to him and tearfully explains the situation because no matter how much he frowns and sighs and pretends to be growly and gruff she knows he’ll never ever get mad at her and will stand behind her and squeeze her shoulders when she works up the courage to go and apologise

and he keeps a stash of cute colourful plasters in his draw just for when she gets cuts and grazes and he keeps a special fuzzy blanket under his desk that he wraps around her and lets her cry into whenever either of her dads is missing or sick or lying unconscious swaddled in bandages in the medbay and when he’s in a good mood he’ll even let her look through his best microscope and he has a whole plethora of pet names for her ranging from darlin to peach pie to little goblin to sweetheart (though sweetpea is reserved just for carol)

and when she’s much older, jim tells her quietly that the enthusiastic affection probably has a lot to do with how much bones misses his own baby girl and about him making up for the time he missed with joanna by being there for her instead

but that doesn’t change anything and certainly doesn’t stop t’androma, even when she’s all grown up, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek and calling him uncle bones and beaming at him until his eyes soften and the years melt off him and he smiles back

Gone (part 2)

Part 1

Requested by a lovely anon and a very small lady who shall remain nameless

Summary: The reader is trying to get over her break up with Bucky, but it’s not that easy when Bucky won’t let her.

A/N: Surprisingly enough, it was fairly easy to write. I really enjoyed writing that second part so I hope you will like it. I love you all for reading this, and requesting a part 2, I wasn’t expecting it !
I forgot to put the text on the post, 2 times… Sorry

Warnings: Angst ? Is it angsty ? Idk, but it’s definitely as sad as part 1.

Words: 1317

Originally posted by jlstreck

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jackie-sugarskull  asked:

Oh god, I just had a cute/mildly depressing thought when it comes to your Crystal Twins AU: Imagine Dipper and Mabel's reactions the first time one of the Grunkles (most likely Stan) gets "poofed". I can see Dipper definitely freaking out, and poor Mabel would probably be in hysterics, and it would take Ford explaining gem regeneration to finally calm them both down. Then it would be downright precious when Stan finally regenerates, and the twins would tacklehug him on the spot!

I can finally post this! I’m sorry friend! (tagging @cirilee as ever cause this is her bab too ♥)
You were asking me about reactions to being ‘poofed’ as I was writing/thinking up Stan and Ford’s first ever reaction to this as well!
I guess it depends if the first time happens before or after Ford comes to Earth.

Oh god I made it more depressing 8D imagine. Stan’s never felt the need to tell any of them that he can get mortally wounded and as long as his gems fine, he’ll be fine. Imagine some freak accident, Stan gets hurt. He poofs.

He never told Soos or Wendy or the twins that that happened and that he’d come back. They’re all devastated, they don’t know how gems work. They think they’ve lost him.

Stan comes back quicker than he should, realising that he’s panicked them and even though it hurts and his body isn’t ready, he forces himself back and explains and there’s lots of tears and hugs and gingerly looking after him cause ‘ow that hurts, you’re really squeezing me Soos’ (I’m thinking like the Amethyst episode here where she keeps coming back almost instantly)

And Stan gets to have all this treatment like he’s fragile and wounded that he’s not used to cause usually it’s someone protecting his gem and just making sure it doesn’t get damaged, not wrapping him up in bandages and colourful plasters (bandaids). He’s all gruff about it but he secretly loves it.

Anyway! Away from that sad little story and back to it being while Ford is around instead. Ford would try to tell them it was OK but it would take a lot of coaxing, a lot of wincing as the twins shouted at him. He’d probably be feeling it himself though because he looks after Stan in these instances but he wasn’t fast enough and Soos has already scooped up the gem and is holding it close to him and is just looking so helpless that he doesn’t want to take that comfort away from him even if he desperately needs it too. He needs to check Stan’s gem isn’t cracked and just keep it safe like he’s always done.

Once he’s explained and everyone has calmed down a bit, Mabel makes this cute little cushion for Stan’s gem, they ask a million questions on the best way to look after the gem while he’s like this even as (again to Ford’s surprise) Soos is already running over with his gem cleaning gear because he knows already that polishing is a comfort.

And yeah when Stan comes back its to a moment of confusion because -is that ribbon tied round my hand, what on earth is that doing there? Why is there glitter everywhere. And he’s wrapped up in every blanket the twins could find because that’s what they always do when they’re sick and they piled so many cushions etc round him that it actually takes them all until Stan speaks up to notice he’s back.

Then he gets covered in hugs instead of blankets.

Aww on a cute note! Let’s mix the two. Ford panicking because as he’s trying to explain to the kids whats going on, Stan rematerialises because he can’t bear to scare the kids even if he’s not well enough to come back. Once the kids have calmed down and Ford’s stopped shouting at him or he’s stopped ignoring Ford shouting at him, he gets this really sleepy glazed look about him and the kids tell him it’s ok. They’d rather he rested like he should and got better and he ‘poofs’ away again and they take care of him, safe in the knowledge that he’ll be back soon.

Brushes

Wow, two prompts posted in one day?? Unheard of. Until now.

This one is for the lovely @sncwbaz!

Prompt: Determined

(This is a lot fluffier than I originally thought I was going to make it, hope you don’t mind!)

“Holy shit.”

That was the first phrase that Baz could even begin to say. What could he say; vulgarity was about half of what came out of his mouth. Despite that sentence’s impact on most, it scarcely described the iceberg of shock that Baz was experiencing. As overused as the coming phrase is, it thoroughly described the scene: it was only the tip of the iceberg.

Baz could feel the annoyance rising in him. Part of him knew that it wasn’t his flat and that it wouldn’t be him who would have to deal with the predicament, but the other half had the sneaking suspicion that Penelope would find a way to pin the aftermath on him, since it was his boyfriend that was causing the dilemma. As to which he would tell her that Simon was her best friend, resulting in them getting in a huge argument over who was to help. Whoever gave in first lost, and he was sure that Penelope was counting.

Simon turned around when he seemed to have finished a part of his work. He was wearing what was presumably an old shirt, as it was obviously cut off with scissors right above his belly button. It was a dingy white, three-quarter sleeve -rolled up to the elbow-, that now had wet colours plastered on the front. He had the goofiest smile on his face that almost made Baz want to dismiss the absolute mess in Simon’s vicinity. Almost.

Sighing softly, Baz slid off his shoes and shrugged his sweater down on to the dining table, taking a seat beside Simon on the floor. Baz was prepared to scold him when his breath caught in his throat.

He could not see what Simon was doing perfectly. There was a large canvas lying in front of him, a paint brush held in his hand. The canvas was plastered in many different shades of blue and black, creating the illusion of soft waves. There was small pinpricks of white littered in arbitrary places across the painting, varying in size. There was ebony lines that took up part of the scene, crooked and differed lengths. They all lead back to a much thicker black line that resembled much of a tree trunk.

It was by no means perfect, but perfect isn’t attainable. It was as close as one could get to it. The streaks created crinkles that only enhanced the look of the dark sky. The branches were flawed and that was how they were supposed to look. Baz watched in awe as Simon dabbed a thin brush into white paint, stroking the canvas and creating a circle that created slight illumination for the rest of the painting. Baz was mesmerized.

When Simon put the brush down, he leaned back into Baz. “Hey,” he said softly. Baz could feel the smile against his neck. And apparently it was contagious, because Baz could soon feel his lips tugging up against his own accord. “Hey,” he answered, clearing his throat in embarrassment when his voice sounded unlike his own.

It took a few minutes of silence, but Baz finally remembered what he came into the room to do -sadly, it was not to watch his boyfriend paint-. “Simon… Why are you painting?” It was the most vague he could get his question to sound. Baz hoped that he didn’t make it sound like he didn’t like it, because he did.

“Well,” Simon began, “Penny told me that I never do anything other than eat and walk around. She told me to get a hobby and she suggested painting. So I did. My first painting looked bad, so now I’m determined to do a good one.”

There was a moments silence before, “did you ever consider putting down trash bags so that you wouldn’t stain the floor?”

Simon blinked. He slowly looked at his surroundings, biting his lip when he saw how many colours were splattered on the floor around him. “No,” he said offhandedly. “No, I didn’t.”

This made Baz chuckle. He decided to keep Simon going and ask more questions. Moving foreward to rest his chin on Simon’s shoulder, he wondered aloud, “Do you think Bunce will be happy with this? You know, when things stain, it’s even harder to get out, even with magic.”

Simon went rigid at this information. He quite obviously didn’t know. Baz had to stifle a laugh. Teasing Simon was one of his finest joys in life. “C'mon.” Baz kissed the top of his head. “Let’s get cleaning.” As soon as Simon got up and opened his mouth, Baz cut him off. “And don’t tell Bunce I helped you. I can’t sacrifice any more of my pride to her.”

4

Plant of the Day

Wednesday 15 June 2016

The front of Pashley Manor, Sussex, is covered in the climbing Rosa ‘Gloire de Dijon’ (old glory rose). This climbing tea rose will grow up to 5m, with glossy, dark foliage and very fragrant, fully double, quartered, creamy-buff flowers. This cultivar will flower in the summer with another display of blooms in the autumn. I really like the subtle way the plaster colour of the building and the rose flowers are so well matched.

Jill Raggett

So, it’s no joke that @alainaprana has inspired me to start sewing again since getting her commissions and since then I have made the collection of colourful plasters that I submitted already.

This is probably the biggest thing I have made from scratch and I am very happy with it. I mostly made this because I really liked the small painted bead that @dc-the-traveler made and thought “I could plushify that.”

Its 7inches tall from the bottom to the tip of the soul and is like a lil cushion. (based off this here image)

Thank you @furgemancs for inspiring my piece of felt craft I did here! it was fun to make.

(EDIT) tumblr squashed the pic, click it to see it properly.