drawn to the edge

anonymous asked:

Thank you so much for your recommendation of Wilder: Ran's story. I played it last night and I'm absolutely in love. It's so good and I don't know how I'll be able to wait for the other routes! I'm especially excited about Bahadur's route.

Oh man, it’s so good, right? :D

Bahadur is the one I was most drawn to when Wilder was announced, so I am seriously on the edge of my seat waiting for any news! But I know how long and difficult it can be to release a game, so I’m waiting very patiently, lol.

Thank you for the message, glad the recommendation worked out! :)

i found this post in my drafts and have ZERO memory of writing it (thank u alcohol) so im gonna put it in my queue lol
  • ok but imagine 
  • Bitty comes out to his parents but he doesn’t tell them about Jack, thinks it’s for the best, maybe to ease his parents into things or maybe to keep the pool of People Who Know as small as possible 
  • and like yeah Ransom and Holster are super oblivious but Suzanne Bittle is not, not when it comes to her son, because she is a certified Nosy Southern Mother and she can see he’s been acting differently, happier but quieter, always on his phone and blushing when she asks about boys
  • and he talks about the team a LOT 
  • Jack’s one of his best friends and he’s just started his NHL career, so of course Bitty’s never gonna shut up about Jack
  • (Same goes for Shitty and law school. And eventually Ransom and med school. Dicky is proud of his friends and wants everyone to know. He gets that trait from Suzanne, she understands)
  • but he keeps talking about this one Boy, how sweet he is and how his smile is like a sack of puppies and how bitty’s always making this boy do things with him like baking and getting froyo and going shopping and Suzanne is like. Yes. This must be Dicky’s secret boyfriend. 
  •  the next family weekend or whatever, Suzanne demands to meet this Chowder boy who’s stolen Bitty’s heart
  • Bitty is both confused and mortified

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Neptune in the First- I adopt the traits, the expressions, the voice of others, often unaware that I am doing so.

Neptune in the Second- I find comfort in the jewels of the material world, they appear to me as deceptive cures.

Neptune in the Third- I cannot see that one plus one equals two logic. But I can see the nuance in the paintings and the poetry in the books. I doodle my dreams on my homework.

Neptune in the Fourth- I long for my happily ever after as far as my sense of home goes, maybe there is still time yet.

Neptune in the Fifth- Recreation takes me to other worlds, though true pleasure can feel hard to come by.

Neptune in the Sixth- How do I protect myself while serving others? How do I have boundaries while accepting connection?

Neptune in the Seventh- I lost myself in someone else, but somehow I don’t seem to mind.

Neptune in the Eighth- I’m drawn to the edge of the ledge now and then, to peek over and feel the rush.

Neptune in the Ninth- My belief can move mountains.

Neptune in the Tenth- I’m drawn to those that speak with charisma, with power and magnetism, so much so, that the actual words they speak seem to fall to the side.

Neptune in the Eleventh- I take the strikes against the marginalized personally, their wounds are mine.

Neptune in the Twelfth- The unconscious world captures me, my silent fantasies, leaving an alien feeling should reality seep in.

It’s okay, for your life is only a rough sketch. It does not need to have every little edge drawn in precisely. It does not need to look a certain way. It does not need to be perfect. Your life is a drawing and you are the artist, but this drawing takes time, so don’t rush it.
—  Nicole Addison @thepowerwithin
The King (5) (NSFW)

Originally posted by castlewyvern

CHAPTER 1

T’Challa x Reader

Summary: Sugar Daddy Art Collector T’Challa

Warnings: Smut

A/N: A day early! Hopefully I’ll have that Nat Pride fic out for you guys tomorrow! Also, look at those thighs. LOOK AT THEM!


He stepped behind you, the cold gold chain caressing your throat as he did so. He clasped the necklace closed and leaned down to kiss your neck as his strong hands drifted over your shoulders giving them a small squeeze.

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if you would stay | m

◇ “Come back home.” Always.

◇ Namjoon x reader

◇ mafia!au

◇ length: 8.5k

◇ um???? Guess who has no idea where tf this came from??? Anyway enjoy lol

•••

Namjoon catches you staring again.

Your eyes hooded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, your chin resting gently on your open palm. You were a sight for sore eyes; a sight that Namjoon could not indulge for the time being, but a sight nonetheless.

“Boss.”

Namjoon prides himself on his emotionless composure but he’s sure that even Jimin could tell that he was distracted; though, said man was well aware that he shouldn’t question the whereabouts of his boss’s thoughts. He didn’t need to know that Namjoon was thinking about pressing you against his desk and taking you from behind, after all.

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“I don’t wanna get married” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

This is just a little something that wasn’t planned. Just got the idea inspired by my own unwillingness to EVER get married (like I had a dream last night about it, as the fateful moment of saying “I do” came, I moonwalked myself out of the wedding venue…and I have recurring dreams like that often haha, so thought I’d write a story inspired by it). So here’s a little bonus story I wrote in twenty minutes, and kinda turned out weird. And don’t worry, the “smut” is coming later tonight ;-). Hope you’ll like it : 

Warning for mentions of past abused and such things that can trigger some of you. It started in my head as a funny/fluffy story and…Well as I was writing it, kinda turned a bit angsty and heavy. Sorry ‘bout that. 

My masterlist blog : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com

_________________________________________________

-I just don’t understand sir. 

Bruce was too focused on what he was doing to even notice Alfred’s presence, fully concentrated on his case of the moment. It’s only when the butler throws a tray full of biscuits and tea in front of him that his attention shifts from the screen of his bat computer to his surrogate father. 

-Uh ? 

-”Uh ?” he says, not an ounce of intelligence in his eyes. 

-…Outch. What’s all that about Alfred ?

-Miss (Y/N). 

-What ? What about her ? Is she ok ?!

The sudden distress in Bruce’s eyes soften Alfred’s feature a bit. It was impossible not to softly smile, at the worries that filled his beloved “master” at the mere mention of your name in a conversation hinting at a “problem”.

-She’s perfectly fine yes. I believe her and the children are having a water gun war in the garden. You know. Having fun. Maybe you should join them ? 

Bruce winces at the mention of his family having fun without him. Ever since it got serious with you, right after Dick joined your family, Bruce made a promise to himself to always try to make some time for you and the boy. And when Jason, Tim and Damian joined, he tried to hold on to that promise even more but…Sometimes, he didn’t have a choice. 

He was the Batman. 

Sometimes, he couldn’t just “have fun”, and had to sacrifice his own life and happiness for the sake of Gotham City and its inhabitants.

It made his heart bleed, but he had to do it…and the fact that you were fully accepting of this, understanding it was definitely a big support. Thanks to you, and his incredibly strong will, he was able to handle everything.  And though he wished he could come up and play with you guys, have a silly moment with the love of his life and his sons, he knew he had a duty to fulfill before. 

Besides, if he wasn’t the one down there working, then it meant that it would be one of his boys or you, and he’d rather be the one sacrificing himself than any of you so…Here he was. 

With a sad look that breaks Alfred’s heart a bit, he asks :

-Alright then, what is happening ? What about her ? 

-Well, I have just one question sir. 

-Go ahead Al’. 

-Do you love her ? 

-Yes. More than life itself. More than anything else but you damn well know that. 

-Just making sure. And I lied. I actually don’t just have one question, but two. 

Bruce sighs, something is telling him that his butler is mad at him, and he doesn’t even know why. Or what it got to do with you. 

-Alright. Go ahead Alfred. Ask away. 

The man who raised the Batman was suddenly very serious. His face was stoic and a bit harsh, and it was clear he meant business. With a strong and resolved voice, he looks at the one he came to call “son” and says : 

-Why the Hell haven’t you propose to Miss (Y/N) yet ? 

-Uh ? 

-Here again with the stupid “uh ?”. You understood me Master Bruce. Why didn’t you put a ring on Miss (Y/N)’s finger ? 

Oh. So that’s what it was all about. With a chuckle, Bruce answers : 

-Oh I have. Or at least, I tried. Ten times in fact. 

Wh…what ? Alfred Pennyworth never felt so stunned in his entire life. What the hell did that even mean ? 

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anonymous asked:

McHanzo #45? :3

“Tell me a secret.”

Hanzo stretches his arms above his head, gives a contented sigh as the motion pulls out the tightness in his shoulders and spine, and resettles with his arms crossed under the pillow. Beside him, he catches McCree watching him, his gaze flickering down Hanzo’s nude body until it hits the blanket over his lower back, then up again, admiring. Hanzo resists the urge to preen under the attention.

“How’d I ever get so lucky,” McCree murmurs. He rolls onto his side to face Hanzo, leaving a scant few inches between them that, compared to the utter lack of space a few minutes prior, feels like a vast expanse. He reaches over to tenderly brush a piece of hair from Hanzo’s face. Hanzo lets his eyes close, enjoying the simple touch for what it is.

The room around them is dark, the blinds drawn shut with only a sliver of moonlight slipping through at the edge. The rest of the base is utterly quiet, everyone else having gone to sleep. They are the only two awake, and here int his room, they have an intimate bubble all to themselves separate the vast grounds of the Watchpoint.

McCree’s fingers stroke down the side of Hanzo’s face reverently. “Hey,” he says. When Hanzo opens his eyes, McCree continues, “Tell me a secret.”

“A secret?” Hanzo repeats.

“Somethin’ you haven’t told anyone else. I wanna know something about you that no one else does.”

Hanzo thinks for a moment. Eventually, he offers, “I used to think Genji’s green hair made him look like a carrot.”

McCree coughs out a surprised laugh. “What?”

“He used to wear this orange scarf when we were younger, which was fine by itself, but once he dyed his hair … I never told him. He seemed so pleased that I did not want to ruin it for him.”

McCree chuckles, shaking his head awkwardly against the pillow. “As amazin’ as that is,” he says, “I wanted to hear something about you.”

Then perhaps you should give me an example for me to go by.”

McCree hums. His thumb stops its repetitive strokes against Hanzo’s cheek. “I guess that’s fair,” he says. “In that case … I used to have a Deadlock tattoo, right here on my left arm.” He slightly wiggles the arm tucked under his pillow. “Before it got blew off. I could’ve gotten rid of the tat easy, but I kept it. I told everyone I just didn’t wanna deal with the hassle, but truth is, I kept it to remind myself where I came from. I didn’t wanna forget what I did when I was younger. It was horrible, but I wanted to remember so I wouldn’t ever go back to that again.”

He looks just a bit ashamed as he finishes his story, his gaze somewhere over Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo takes the hand resting against his face and presses a kiss to the knuckles.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says.

McCree laughs once. “Yeah,” he replies. Then he meets Hanzo’s eye again. “So. What about you?”

Hanzo thinks for a long moment, trying to find some detail of his life to match the intimacy of what McCree just shared with him. He has told every detail of his part in Genji’s death, now, and most of what the Shimada clan was like. Everything else seems either too shameful or too tame. Finally, though, he settles on something. 

“I have … I have never had something like this before,” he says softly. 

“Like what?”

“This relationship. Us.” McCree says nothing, waiting for him to continue, so he does. “I had no interest in others, growing up, and the clan always came first. I could have pursued someone, if I chose, but I did not. There were a few brief flings with others, one-night stands, but never someone I … really cared for. And after Genji, I simply did not think of it again. I was lonely, perhaps, but it did not matter, because I did not deserve it.”

“Oh, darlin’,” McCree starts to say, but Hanzo shakes head against his pillow. 

“I know you will say that is not the case, but that is not the point I am trying to make,” he says. “But that is my secret. Everything with us is new to me.”

McCree’s gaze holds steady with his. “And now?” he asks. “Is this all alright?”

Hanzo smiles. He scoots forward on the pillow until he can press his brow against McCree’s, brushing the tips of their noses together. 

“It is more than alright,” he says. “It is more than I could have ever hoped to have.”

Moon of Fire Part i (Sastiel Sequel)

Sastiel is a fic inspired from Rowaelin’s child and Feysand’s child being mates. Thank you to @dorianthekinkymf for reading this first part early, and giving me her amazing support, and for @dr-woodsprite for the title inspiration! And also to the girls who have done beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful Sastiel edits, @cassianandfenrysaremyboyos @readinglikewildfire @thebookdiviner @poseiodn @dorianthekinkymf I love you guys so much a thousand thank yous!

If you haven’t read A Court of Fire and Dreams:
Check out Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV and Part V.

Moon of Fire:
Part i, Part ii, Part iii, Part iv, Part v

*****

Darkness covered Seraphine.
She was delirious, sprawled on a wooden floor, a wild raging pain deep in her head. Though her hands—bloody, shackled.
Despite this, a bigger problem was at hand.
Below her, a circle similar to the one drawn by Amren and Feyre at the House of Wind was slightly visible in the dark.
I came alive when I met you she had said to him, before she was to go back home to her family. To Terrasen.
Now, bars surrounded her from all sides. Wooden walls caved her in. She was trapped, her powers, her fire non-existent.
Not again, not again, not again. Seraphine forced her mind to calm, but she didn’t feel in control of herself anymore.
A corner of the cloth covering the wagon was pulled back. She stared at a wild eyed man, his eyes the colour of blood, wearing strange clothing she had never seen before.
“Got somewhere else to be, princess?”
He laughed as she said nothing.
“Didn’t think so.”
The man tried to grab her through the bars, laughing maniacally, and she felt now, that the tunic once owned by Kastiel was too short to be worn here.
“Don’t try anything funny,” he spat at her.
Seraphine had been so sure that her family needed her here, that they were in danger. Now she didn’t know what to think.
She swallowed her fear, listening intently at the sounds outside. The rustling of never ending trees. The breeze of fresh grass. Horses, being tended to. Though her powers were gone, her fae hearing weren’t. They must have been at an outpost, her capturers taking a break and resting the horses.
Near silent footsteps approached the horses at the front of the carriage, murmuring gentle words to the animals.
Seraphine was drawn to their tender voice. She crawled towards the edge of the wagon, tearing out a small piece of cloth from the bottom of her dress.
She takes a deep breath and pushes her hands through the bars and the cloth, towards the horse tender.
“For anyone in Terassen,” she whispers to him, dropping the piece. Seraphine didn’t know if he caught it, or if it simply landed on the ground.
The horse tender was about to make a sound, about to speak to her, before he was yanked heavily back. He yells in fright, a commotion breaking off as Seraphine hears the sound of skin pounding on skin.
The doors to her wagon opened, blinding her with bright daylight.
“What did you give him,” the red eyed guard yells.
Seraphine crawled to the back of the wagon, making herself into a ball. She was weak, she had no powers, she was not strong enough to escape into the heart of what could only be Oakwald Forest.
“I said,” the man yells, grabbing Seraphine by the shoulders and shaking her. “What did you give him?”
Seraphine said nothing.
Red eyes were the last thing she saw before the pummel of a sword knocked her out.

*****

The journey through Oakwald forest left Seraphine’s mind in tatters. Her cheek lay on the cool wood, trying to clear her mind. She couldn’t tell how many days had passed, how many hours she had spent in the darkness of her wagon. The men forced her a drink, which suppressed her strength and powers. If they were travelling to Oakwald Forest, then there was a high chance that they were headed to Terrasen—her home. She snickered at the thought of these men bargaining her for whatever it is they desired from her court. Did they think they would make it out alive? The thought made Seraphine warm with joy. Going home didn’t seem so bad now.
Her heavy lids threatened to close again, just before she sees in the corner of her wagon, a flower, the moon illuminating it through the covers. She crawled towards it, her sodden tunic dragging through the markings on the wooden planks. She picks up the delicate blue, almost silver thing, pressing it to her face, inhaling the familiar scent—moonflower.
She swore she could hear giggling in the far distance.

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Drabble 2- Chris Beck

Drabble 1 

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader
Part: 2/?
Warnings: Smut
Summary: You and Chris are interrupted celebrating your anniversary. 
A/N: This is the second part in a series where each part will be a different character. This is based off these two prompts, here and here. Please come let me know what you think!
Word count : 707

“Right there, Chris” you moan, gripping the sheets under you. Your 1st wedding anniversary had started with a beautiful candlelit dinner, followed by dancing in the stars and now Chris held your hips tightly as he slid into you hard and heavy.

“God, sweetheart” he runs a hand up the length of your back, resting it at the nape of your neck. His cock slides further into you as his other hand squeezes your hip. When he pulls back and thrust back in torturously slow, you both groan simultaneously. You bury your face against the cool sheets, trying to find purchase on the material as Chris’ rhythm speeds up pushing you forward towards the end of the bed. 

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Circle packing theorem

Recently I heard about this surprising theorem. I already knew about Fáry’s theorem: if a simple graph can be drawn on the plane without crossing edges (i.e. if the graph is planar), then it can always be drawn in such a way that all edges are non-crossing straight lines. Hence, restricting to straight-line edges doesn’t give a strictly smaller class of planar graphs. I found this to be quite surprising already.

However, much more is true: you can always draw a simple planar graph in the plane in such a way that you can place non-overlapping circles on the vertices, such that two circles touch if and only if the corresponding vertices are joined by an edge. In particular, the drawing clearly satisfies the result of Fáry’s theorem. This result is called the circle packing theorem.

Don’t Look Back (ACOTAR AU) - Part 10

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18Part 19


Somehow, Feyre had managed to avoid any confrontation with Tamlin until Friday that week. Indeed, they saw each other, but Feyre was quick to look away, Mor was quick to steer her away or Cassian was quick at shielding Tamlin from her line of sight.

On Friday, however, Feyre did not look away as she saw Tamlin walk with his arm around Lucien’s shoulder, laughing like old friends. Lucien had yet to talk to her since he walked away. She texted him about meeting up but he made up excuses that he had to study or he had another fight with his family. This was probably what he was doing all week – restoring his friendship with Tamlin in spite of everything that Tamlin had done to the both of them. That hurt. And she wanted to know why.

Alone, she approached them, her eyes dead set on her best friend in attempt to give her some confidence if she would just ignore Tamlin’s existence. Her heart began to pound in familiar panic.

She noticed them both stop before her, and she met Lucien’s eyes. He looked…apologetic, uncomfortable yet determined. She kept her eyes to Lucien’s as she said, “You didn’t answer my text.”

He opened his mouth, “I-I was busy. Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “I couldn’t meet up last night, I had a chemistry exam this morning.”

Feyre nodded. She didn’t understand. It was as if there was a switch that Feyre had pressed during their fight on Tuesday that had created this atmosphere of awkwardness between them. 

Lucien shifted.

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blackabyssposts  asked:

Since Magnus is allergic to cats could you write something about him summoning a tiger or a panther to cuddle with sometimes and Alec being shocked.

not to harp on this relentlessly but how about a hellhound instead

in the dim light of the study, everything dark save for a few flickering candles, magnus stood up against the wall, his breathing even, shoulders rising as magic curled up his bare forearms. the circle was drawn, the space prepared and already the purple glow was blooming around the edges of the chalk, shimmering and then the rising glow started to glitch.

amidst that purple glow, black started to spill up in thick stripes, the center of the drawn circle bubbling up like thick spilt ink. and then the very middle began to shift. a black form pulled itself out of that viscous center, forming itself out of all of that darkness. it morphed and moved, then a low growl echoed through the loft. at first like a rumble, almost otherworldly, the air glitching around the summoning circle.

magnus was lit by all of that purple, the light spilling up over his black shirt, catching on all of the folds, but more than that catching on the edge of his smirk. it was glowing against the yellow gold of his eyes as tendrils of magic licked off of his shoulders and he waited, waited for the hellhound to blink it’s eyes open for the first time.

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The Shooting Star

A/N: Oh boy, here we go. This is my first entry one-shot for @doodledrawsthings human bill AU (which they helped edit and illustrate). For those not familiar, it’s an AU based on the Flat Dreams lore by @pengychan, basically a “what-if” scenario of Bill coming back during the Pines Twins second summer in Gravity Falls. If you’re unfamiliar with it, CHECK OUT THEIR PAGE. WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE. Hope you enjoy this one.

part 2

part 3

“And this is the time DipDop and I were voted Best Dynamic Duo! Man, I can’t imagine not having my bro to count on!”

“Can we do something else.”

“Nope!”

The occupant of the kitchen chair groaned loudly, burying his face in his arms. “Tell me, Shooting Star, is TORTURING ME with POINTLESS HUMAN SENTIMENTS glued onto pieces of colorful paper some kinda elaborate revenge scheme you’re executing?”

“First, they’re not pointless. I’ll have you know I worked very hard on each of them! And second-” Mabel jumped up from her chair and smacked Bill lightly across the face. The demon recoiled with an half-annoyed half-startled snarl. “You’re being a jerk! So you get a frowny-face sticker.”

Bill slowly pried said sticker off his cheek, slowly ripped it in half with a disturbing satisfaction, and tossed the remaining pieces on the floor, his eyes never leaving Mabel’s. The demon silently got up, fixing the girl with a sneer before turning to leave. Well, that could have gone better.

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