How long have you been planning for Coulson to be the Ghost Rider – and what was Clark Gregg’s reaction to finding out that news?
Jeffrey Bell: To say he was happy, it would be an understatement. Jed Whedon: I think what he said when we told him was, “I didn’t think I could geek out more,” but he was like, “It seems I can.” Jeffrey Bell: Yeah, that was what he said. [x]
“Now nobody will play with m-m-me,” Steve whispers. “I get s-s-sick,” Steve wails and his breathing starts to hitch. “I’ll still play with you,” Clint says fiercely. “Nobody wants to play with me either. My ear is broke so they won’t. We can play. If you want.”
Summary: Anthony is an art student who needs someone to model nude. He chooses the reader, who happens to have an unadvisable, annoying crush on the sunshine-y boy.
Word Count: 2,966
A/N: It is officially the first day of the Write-A-Thon! I may have stayed up until 12 just for this, oops. But I’m super excited because I love Anthony Ramos and I love this AU and there is just a LOT of love to give, okay??
Hello, Mod! I hope you're well. I'm from Caguas, Puerto Rico and I'd just like to let you know that, regarding Hurricane Irma, we're all okay. No major damage, thankfully. Only problem here is that some of us (including myself), have been without power or water for a couple days. Have a good day, and stay safe! Sending prayers to all the others in Irma's path.
Oh man that’s great to know, I’m so glad you’re alright I was so worried- I have a few good pals from Puerto Rico but even if I didn’t that Irma is a Big Mean Scary Thing and ain’t nobody deserve to have that landing on them. Huge love to you all and yeah I hope things pull through for everyone still facing this.
of one of the scenes on the side of the little golden shrine, found in
the Tomb of Tutankhamun. The scene is described as follows in the book
“The Small Golden Shrine from the Tomb of Tutankhamun” by
Ankhesenamun anoints Tutankhamun
Tutankhamun sits on a high-backed, armless chair with lion legs. A patterned cushion covers not only the seat, but the back of the chair as well. The design of the chair includes the “union of the Two Lands” motif in open-work between the legs above the strut. The king’s attitude, with his elbow resting on the chair back, is a mirror image of CR4. His feet, which are unshod, rest on a low footstool.
The king wears the same kilt, with the addition of a crimped sash and sporran, as in all the other panels on the shrine. His costume includes wristlets, armlets, a broad collar, and a shebyu-necklace. An unusual feature is the depiction of the rectangular clap at the nape of the neck, a detail sometimes included when the necklace is displayed but not usually shown when it is depicted worn. The blue crown with uraeus and streamers completes the king’s regalia. A vulture hovers protectively above and behind the king’s head. The shen-sign held in its talons is augmented by the addition of an ankh. In front of the king’s face is written:
“the Perfect God, Nebkheperure, Son of Re, Tutankhamun, Ruler of Upper Egyptian Heliopolis, give life like Re.”
Behind the throne one reads:
“all protection of life is around him like Re”
The queen stands before her husband and inclines towards him. With her far hand, she touches his far upper arm. In the other hand, she elevates above her shoulder a footed dish containing a garlanded ointment cone. Draped over the cone are two lotus blossoms: two more blossoms and three buds hand behind her hand, presumably to be understood as also held in it.
Ankhesenamun, like her husband, is barefoot. Her jewelry includes wristlets, a broad collar, and a stirrup earring with dangling pendants. She wears the Nubian wig with an elaborate uraeus diadem, as in CR 4, and with streamers. Her modius is adorned with a frieze of uraei with sun disks; a garlanded ointment cone sits at its centre, flanked by four feathers. Two vertical columns of hieroglyphs behind the queen identify her as:
“hereditary princess, great in favours, Mistress of Upper and Lower Egypt, possessor of charm, sweet of love, the great wife of the king, beloved of him, Lady of the Two Lands, Ankhesenamun, may she live forever and ever.”
For the anon whom I promised Niall fluff to the other day: this is my gift to you. ❤️
“But Niall, look at her!”
You were cradling your newborn baby girl in your arms as you looked at your husband, distress coloring your features. Your baby was fast asleep in your arms—she had your lips and Niall’s nose, and a mixture of both your stubbornness.
She was a tough baby, in the sense that it had been incredibly difficult to get her used to any kind of sleep schedule. She cried at all hours of the night and had a very difficult temperament at that time, so you took the whole “when baby’s sleeping mom should be sleeping” thing very seriously.
You had to admit, caring for a baby was difficult. You and Niall had never felt exhaustion like it before—you had been sleeping in no more than three hour increments for the past two months, and it was all catching up to you. You had bags under your eyes like never before, and sometimes it took everything you had inside of you to keep up a simple conversation. Sometimes you would walk into the kitchen, baby in your arms, and catch your husband half-asleep as he brewed the coffee.
It took it’s toll on the both of you, but it was completely worth it.
“C’mon babe, give’er to me,” Niall reached for the baby in your arms, causing you to huff stubbornly.
“Don’t wanna,” you complained, cradling her closer to your chest and nuzzling your nose against the top of her sleeping baby head.
You had been cooped up in the house ever since your daughter had been born. It had been two months since you stepped foot out of your home—you gave your one hundred percent into motherhood, and you were getting the hang of taking care of your baby for sure. But there were times when Niall would have to kindly remind you to shower, or make you eat something before going to sleep because you hadn’t eaten anything all day.
You were drained, and it had been so long since you’d done something for yourself. Which is why Niall had scheduled this brunch with one of your best friends.
When Cath’s eyes closed, her eyelids stuck. She wanted to open them. She wanted to get a better look at Levi’s too-dark eyebrows, she wanted to admire his crazy, vampire hairline—she had a feeling this was never going to happen again and that it might even ruin what was left of her life, so she wanted to open her eyes and bear some witness.
um. UM. how about everyone's favourite purveyor of magical items, a mister Shaun Gilmore? (mayyybe with Vax?? maybe???)
(I am completely blanking on tropes besides “snowed in” btw I would just like to see you write something)
Thank you for an excellent prompt, friend! There always needs to be more Gilmore! (and also Vax. Both, both is good) And I can work with that trope! ;) Here’s some canon divergence where Vax’s emotional confessions jumped the other way and everything is just very warm, set during the Chroma Conclave arc.
The streets of Whitestone are heavily weighed down with snow.
Gilmore lets his curtain fall back into place, the hushed white of the snow and soft glow of lanterns lingering past his glimpse.
“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re going much of anywhere tonight,” Gilmore drawls, glancing over his shoulder at Vax. “I think it might be a bit of rough terrain even for you.”
Vax laughs, crosslegged and cradling a fine porcelain cup in his fine, slender hands. It’s strange still to see him mostly out of armor, feathered cuirass and vambraces and greaves strapped over tall leather boots, snake-belt and daggers ever-present in these days.
“Does that mean you’ll let me stay?” Vax asks with a tilted smile, but there’s something a little hesitant, a little vulnerable hovering in his features alongside the teasing.
“But of course!” Gilmore says, waving a hand as he resumes his seat at the low table, reaching for his own cup of tea. It’s warm, fragrant and full-bodied, a delicately floral blend brewed strong. “You’re always welcome here, you know.”
Even, Gilmore means, when the days are long and they’re both exhausted and worn. And Gilmore is constantly exhausted and worn these days, the stress of maintaining the shielding spell draining so much of his energy. Abjuration was never his specialty, but Allura’s skills and influences are versatile enough that she needs to be freer, and if this is what Gilmore can do to protect this new, fragile home, then maintain a barrier he shall.
If it means that there’s a weight off Vox Machina’s mind and a place for them to return to, then Gilmore feels it even more necessary.
(It puts him in uncomfortable sympathy with J’mon sa Ord, whose grandeur even in worn memory makes Gilmore’s elegance feel like thin gilt, to even attempt to imagine protecting an entire metropolis for an age on the weight of only one being’s power.)
A/N: While you are reading this, I am watching
Thor: Ragnarok—in this very moment! Guys, I am hyped, so this Imagine is a real
special one. I’ve been looking forward to writing it so much. If you know me,
you know that I love vampires and… that I love Loki even more. So… on a scale
from one to Loki, how hot would it be to combine these two things?
A Winchester’s Legacy - Dean Winchester x Reader - Part 2
Title: A Winchester’s Legacy
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 5,025
Warnings: Character death (not main ones)
Summary: You’ve known the Winchesters all your life, yet when the father of your child dies you never thought they would take you in the bunker with them. Nor would you ever think the love you’d feel again for the older Winchester as he becomes a father for your baby. Who would ever think he has just the same wish: A family with you.
“That’s my boy.” he grinned full of pride as he looked at the two of you, his eyes locking with yours as he cupped your face and leaned down to kiss your forehead. His lips lingered over your skin a lot more than they should.
He cleared his throat, blinking as he looked back down at the baby in your arms “I really am putting all of my faith in you, buddy.” he said with a half smile and a grin spread on your lips “I know you’re gonna be a true Winchester, though, and not tire her much.”
“Since when has ever a Winchester not tired me?” you scoffed with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged.
“Not… yet, at least, but we’re all making progress.” he gave you an innocent look “And when J grows up he’ll prove to you how awesome the Winchesters are.”
You giggled, and it wasn’t just because of how adorably he was talking with so much pride and happiness to help you raise your son, but also the fact that he already considered him a Winchester. He had your last name so far but truth was you’d give everything… for him to actually be Dean’s son. Not that you didn’t love his father, you still would think about him sometimes, but then all it took was one glance at the older Winchester and your heart was on overdrive, skipping beats all the freaking time.