earnest in love



Super self indulgent but man this made me happy to draw, I hope it makes some of you happy today too ^ ^

Thank you everyone who played my Valentine’s Day Game! The event is now closed, thanks for participating!! <3


Explanations/headcanons beneath cut!


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Leo is usually the one to make Takumi flustered, but sometimes Takumi catches him off guard (▰˘v˘▰) 

Just wanted to draw Leo being the big tomato he really is. Also RIP TAKUMI.

(Base on one of Takumi’s english My Castle lines. Reposted from my FE twitter!)

Obi-Wan: [text] I know I am going to regret this, but what’s wrong, Anakin?
Anakin: what do u mean 
Anakin: nothings wrong
Anakin: y would u think that?
Obi-Wan: I saw your post. Clearly you want to talk about something. 
Anakin: no y do u think that
Obi-Wan: Allow me to copy > paste: “hungry and tired and cold but probably shouldnt expect much else today #soalone #asusual #iseehowitisudontthinkimasimportantasthecouncil #justsayin” ?
Obi-Wan: A little hard for me to not feel like that post was directed at me. 
Anakin: well it wasnt 
Anakin: anyways im too cold to text rn ttyl 
Obi-Wan: Anakin, honestly. I will be home from this mission in a couple of days, can we talk about this then?
Anakin: i dont even know if ill be home tbh im looking at apartment rentals
Obi-Wan: Anakin they don’t let Jedi live off-campus. Also you don’t have enough money for an apartment on Coruscant. 
Anakin: i have enough for a motel on the lower levels what do u care where i live 
Obi-Wan: What did I do?
Anakin: nothing obvs its my fault for remembering a special day that clearly doesnt matter to u
Obi-Wan: It’s not your birthday. Or Valentine’s Day. 
Anakin: pffft yeah bc if it was valentines day id have a brand new pair of socks from u to cherish 🙄
Obi-Wan: Force, can you please just let that go already? Besides, I thought you liked the socks. 
Anakin: dont tell me how to feel im not the one who forgot something this important!!!!

Obi-Wan: [text] You’ve seen Anakin’s posts, I presume?
Ahsoka: lol yup 😁  
Obi-Wan: On a scale of 1 to 10, how likely am I to ever figure out on my own which obscure holiday or anniversary he’s upset about me forgetting?
Ahsoka: 0. he’s REALLY reaching this time.
Obi-Wan: Damn it. 
Ahsoka: I COULD help u master kenobi but also it IS pretty entertaining, soooo…😈
Obi-Wan: I understand. Let the negotiations begin. 

(Ahsoka absolutely loves using this stuff to her advantage. And you KNOW Anakin is the undefeated champion of dramatic vagueposting when he wants attention.) 

(This edition of Anakin Skywalker’s Ridiculous Neediness for @darthluminescent, who is pretty much always here for Anakin’s spoiled antics.) 

When Arashi spins laughter... and actual spins (Arashi ni Shiyagare 04.03.2017)

└ The guests are ice-skaters and have Arashi take on the challenge of giving a ‘winning’ ending pose after taking spins in a chair.

First up…

Exuding stoicness as expected of our youngest.

And he pulls off a cool pose… albeit a little totteringly.

You didn’t only make US see stars then Jun-kun. (^_^)

Our next contestant tries to build up his inner reserves…

And his expression just speaks a thousand million words… (^_^)

Before he absolutely kills me with his ending pose!

And shipper in me tried to be more focused on Sho-kun… I tried really.

And although Masaki’s a literal blur, his hairstyle makes him look so kakkoi~~

And that ending Chinese gongfu-like pose! (^_^)

Then comes our cheater Neener.

… who while looking “nervous”, attempts to bribe / bully / kick the staff into spinning him at less than half the speed of the others. (HAHAHAHAHA~)

Though it hardly yields the desired outcome.

… as he totally feels the dizziness and nausea.

Last but DEFINITELY not the least… our sassy Riida with a helluva lot of SASS with a capital ‘S’!

You just KNOW he’s got something up his sleeve with THAT smirk on his lips…

Sasuga Onee Ohno-san~~

Did you ever really doubt the outcome?

And just a final shot of them all in their spin outfits.

Cr: Arashi ni Shiyagare 04.03.2017

soften the blow. 12x13 coda. deancas. (ao3)

Cas picks up the phone halfway through the second ring. “Dean?” he says. “Is everything all right?”

“I love you,” Dean says. Cas inhales sharply on the other end of the line. “And I don’t have any bad news to follow that up with.”

“I–” Cas says. “What?”

“Getting real tired of people telling me that just to soften the blow,” Dean says. He hangs up, heart racing.

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Title: we’ll be alright this time
Summary: This is how Sasuke Uchiha falls in love.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto.
Prompt: First Love
Rating: K
A/N: It’s ssmonth guys sobs. I’m a lil late but it’s ok.

It starts in the hospital, the first week into his return. Sasuke is bedridden, confined to a too-white room, still bruised in blacks and blues—but the worst of his wounds have healed for the most part, courtesy of Sakura’s gentle healing hands.


She’s here a lot, he realizes, as each day passes by; not just with him, but in the halls of the hospital and the adjacent rooms, too, treating tired shinobi wounded in war and still-frightened civilians trying to recover from it all. The smile to her lips never ceasing, she doesn’t seem to miss out on any pressing matter, doesn’t actually seem to leave these walls at all—and if Sasuke didn’t so often catch her dozing in the armchair at his bedside, he might even think she never sleeps, either.

And yet, despite her busy schedule, Sakura always finds the time to offer him a visit every day.

Something in him softens at the thought.

“You’re healing very well, Sasuke-kun,” she says to him, one day, as time dictates it necessary to have his bandages changed yet again. “I’m actually pretty surprised. Are you sure you don’t have a hidden tailed beast somewhere inside you helping to patch you up?”

The query is a teasing one—something that Sasuke has yet to grow used to, when it comes to Sakura. She’d always been so shy when it came to him, Sasuke remembers from their years before, so sweet and pure, and eager to impress him; whatever brashness she held inside had only ever been expressed with anger towards their blond best friend whenever he did something she didn’t like—which was often. But the woman that stands here before him now is different, despite in some ways still being the same; kind, and bright, she smiles and jibes playful remarks, seemingly unafraid to make a fool of herself… or, perhaps, driven with a confidence that she can make him smile, too.

Sasuke honestly doesn’t know what to say about that.

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sinningwiththesamurai  asked:

#36 with Toshiie? (Also hi)

“I think we should burn it down.”

The sip of sake you had been trying to swallow came abruptly back up your nose as the meaning finally filtered through the buzzed haze to take root. Inuchiyo’s eyebrows knitted together even as you stumbled, catching your arm with a single, large hand and pounding on your back with enough force to knock you forward another step, as nonchalant as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you burn down the Magistrate’s house. You wheezed around the inhaled sake, trying frantically to get enough air to explain why that was a terrible idea, but your childhood friend continued on regardless. “Wouldn’t be too hard. Come on, let’s go, let’s go find some matches.

“No!” You swerved, and reached for him, “Noooo, no no no.” His hand was still on your arm, but you turned into it to seize the front of his robes, “No matches, bad—.” You lost your balance again, and his other hand found your shoulder, holding you steady against the influence to sway. For a brief moment, you blinked at him, having sort of…vaguely forgotten what you had been talking about, and trying to understand why his expression was so troubled.

“Listen…that, that rat bastard, he tried—” Inuchiyo began, smile gone. You didn’t like that expression. He looked like a forlorn puppy—that made you giggle, albeit guiltily—but it also made your heart hurt, so you rose to your toes, hand lifting to pat his head, which he jerked back in surprise, “—Hey!” though you just leaned forward. “Cut that out!”

His hair was surprisingly soft, and so you ran your fingers through it, letting the dark, silken strands flow over and around your fingers, and repeating the motion. So soft! “Your hair’s a…a birdnest,” You mumbled, and your other hand joined the first to try and smooth it, but getting equally distracted playing with it instead. A mirthful giggle squeaked past your lips. Toshiie spluttered, cheeks brilliantly red—had they been like that before? “You gotta…work on your sa..sake tolerance, ‘nuchiyo.”—and the hands on your shoulders spasmed slightly.

What? Hey! I don’t wanna hear that from you, Miss Stumbling Sandals, geez.” He turned his head to the side and your hand slipped free—you missed the sensation, and tried to reach again, but already on your toes and leaning forward, lost your balance completely. He caught you as easily as an afterthought, and equally carelessly bent over, arm shifting around the curve of your hip to your thighs, and tossed you up to his shoulder.

It was your turn to shriek in surprise, arms scrambling for a grip and settling around his head, earning a muffled protest you didn’t hear. Inuchiyo spluttered, then sighed. “Inuchiyo, pumme down!”

“No, you’re drunk.”

“So’re you.”

“I’m better at it.”

“Only ‘cause you…you’ve got more practice.”

You thought you heard a murmur of let’s keep it that way and leaned over to be sure. Your hands pressed onto their grip and suddenly you were distracted and pleased to have access to his hair again, which you gleefully returned to playing with—“Quit that!”

You ran your fingers through it one last time, peering down, and you sulked for a moment before blinking around at your new vantage. “Hey…woah, Inuchiyo, you’re really…” Your head tilted curiously, “You’re reaaaaally tall.”

This earned a smile. “What, you just noticed?”

“I can see the Magistrate’s house!” You were looking at it, so didn’t see the sudden scowl below. Something flickered through your mind, a memory, or a thought, and you seized it, lowering your hands to his shoulders, “Inuchiyo! Inuchiyo let’s…let’s burn it down!”

A ferocious smile, and he shifted his grip, lowering you so when your head turned his forehead met yours. You smiled and leaned into him, arms going lax into a sleepy grip around his shoulders, and the ferocity faded into something helpless. You forgot, by the time he answered softly, what he was agreeing to. “Yeah, okay.”

You cheered anyway, “Woohoo!” His hands opened, then closed, restless but occupied with keeping you off the ground, but as though they wanted to do something else, and his eyes left your face to look in troubled exasperation at your hair. You, following the line of his eyes, let your head drop, and tucked against his chest, snuggling to the warmth of him and calmed by the strong, steady beat you found there. “I’m sleepy.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. We’re going home.” You dreamed of fields of soft grass and smiles, and the low, guilty-but-not murmur of your ma is gonna kill me…

More of Lee’s Rambles (or see /tagged/masterlist or just /masterlist)

anonymous asked:

Could you write a little blurb about how Y/N is shy about Harry going down there? Thank you Susie...

Running into the house after a hard day’s work had become much more enjoyable now that I had something to come home to.  I quickly deposited my coat and shoes on the front mat before bounding up the stairs to our newly minted bedroom.  I couldn’t wait to finish off our first full day living together as a real life couple.

He looked up from his spot on the edge of the bed where he had already changed into some sweats and a t-shirt before sitting down to tap away on his phone.  The moment he heard my footsteps though he looked up with a huge, welcoming, happy smile on his face.  He promptly set his phone down,

“Was wondering when you were going to make it home.”

I didn’t hesitate a bit as I walked towards him.  I slotted myself between his legs and set my hands on his shoulders,

“Traffic was a bitch.”

He gripped my sides, his head tipped up to look at me,

“LA traffic is always a bitch.”

I stared down into the face of my love for a bit before lifting my hand into his hair.  A content smile formed on my lips without my direction,

“I missed you.”

He nodded,

“And I missed you.”  He twisted me back and forth in his hands, “Want to me to make you some dinner?  Or we could get something delivered?  I could get take ou-”

“I have all I need…right here.”  I whispered softly.

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A/N: A little one-shot inspired by the finale and something @dreamilytenaciousgarden said to me while we were chatting.

Her mouth was dry and the taste of blood was still present. Her eyelids were heavy and it felt as if she would not be able to tear them open. The swelling around the left one was much more prominent than it had been when her wounds were still very much fresh; it remained closed despite her efforts at opening it.

Michonne found the room to be well-lit; she had no idea what time of the day it was, or, in fact, what day it was. She stirred and felt a hand grasping her right one as rough fingers softly traced over her arm. Shifting her gaze and turning her head ever so slightly, she saw Rick at her side. He offered her a smile and the warmth and happiness in his eyes made her feel safe.

She went to speak, but her parched lips and throat made the greeting come out gravelly.

“Hey,” she managed, before Rick reached down to the floor and grabbed a bottle of water for her.

“Hey,” he replied, undoing the lid. Michonne struggled to sit up. “Hold on.”

He placed the bottle into her awaiting hand and proceeded to put another pillow under her head in an effort to prop her forward.

“I can sit,” she said hoarsely, not wanting Rick to fuss over her.

“I know,” he relied, somewhat amused by her persistent stubbornness. “But let me take care of you.”

Michonne conceded and gave him a thankful grin. Her body ached all over, and her head was pounding. Her face felt sore and heavy from the swelling; her bones felt tired. She was weary, but happy that she was still alive.

Rick took the water from Michonne, retrieved the plastic straw from the neck of the water bottle, and brought it to her lips. She took a sip and felt the cool liquid slide down her dry throat.

“Have a little more,” Rick urged, holding the bottle to her mouth again; she obliged.

“Carl?” she asked, her memory still unclear from her head trauma. “Where is he?”

“He’s fine,” Rick replied while he took hold of her hand again; his thumb trailing lightly over hers. “Helpin’ with the clean-up right now.”

“What happened? Did we get a win?” she asked; the concern for their community was etched across her bruised and beaten face.

“Yeah,” said Rick, his eyes glazing over as he thought about the loved-ones they had lost. “We drove ‘em off, and we’ve got a long way to go, an even bigger fight ahead of us, but you don’t have to worry about that now.”

He shifted closer, leaned down and pressed a languid kiss to her forehead, carefully avoiding any injuries.

“You focus on feeling better, okay?” said Rick while stroking her hair.

“Okay,” she said, with a small smile that caused her face to twinge; she lifted her free hand from her tummy and tentatively pressed her fingertips to her face. She winced when she applied some pressure to her cheek. “Shit.”

“You’ll be fine when the swelling goes away,” he said, squeezing her hand; he hated seeing her in pain.

“Does it look as bad as it feels?” she asked somewhat jokingly, trying to lighten the mood when she noticed the rueful expression he wore.

“You’re beautiful,” Rick whispered, not missing a beat, as he pressed a loving kiss to the back of her hand. She felt a warmth wash over her.

“Stop making me smile,” she joked. “It hurts.”

“Sorry,” he offered, brushing her hair back once more.

“How long have you been sitting here?” she asked, still feeling slightly disoriented.

“Since we brought you here and got you cleaned up,” he admitted.

“How are we looking?” she asked, needing to know their current situation after their initial skirmish; Rick pressed his hand to his brow.

“We…we took a big hit,” he explained. “But I don’t want you worrying about that right now. Maggie, Ezekiel, they’re handlin’ this. They’re helpin’ our people see what needs to be done…”

“Rick,” said Michonne. “You should be out there with Maggie and Ezekiel. Everyone needs you.”

You need me, too,” he said, as if being anywhere but by her side made no sense.

Rick,” she said softly. “I’ll be fine.”

He remained silent and stared at his beloved.

“You’re our leader,” she continued, with pride encompassing her expression. “You’ll take us forward.”

“Hey,” he said softly, gesturing between himself and Michonne. “We are the leaders. Me and you, together, and we will be the ones to show our people the way ahead.”

“I know,” she replied, feeling her heart swell with adoration. “But they need you right now. Remind them that they made the right choice to fight today. Mourn with them, and show them that we can win. All of us, together.”

Rick nodded his head.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it; I’ll go now.”

“Good,” she said, resting back into her pillows.

“Then I’ll be back to check on you later,” he said; she smiled at his obstinacy.

“Okay,” she offered, eyeing his expression as he stood; he moved with difficulty and she then noticed he had changed his shirt.

“Rick,” she said. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

“Ah, it’s nothin’,” he replied. “You get some more rest. I’ll be back soon.”

Rick leaned in close, held Michonne’s hand over his heart, and kissed her forehead once more; they held each other’s gaze a moment longer before he whispered an earnest, “I love you.”

You Could Have

As promised – not Kansas City OTRA, but very much inspired by it. I’ve had this as a WIP since April or so, so it’s nice to have it out. That said: I’M NERVOUS AS ALL GET OUT cause they kind of… are… there’s a crude topic in this. They’re just having a go at each other, though. ACK *flips tables* Enjoy, everybody, I’m gonna hide now. x

It’s the last song when security finds you and escorts you from your seat and through the crowd. You’re a little disappointed that you don’t get to see the show finish, but knots of excitement are twisting in your belly as you are herded past barricades where no one else is allowed to go. Music and fireworks, almost obnoxiously loud, are muffled backstage, and you hear voices, familiar by this point and one more so than the rest, saying earnest goodnights and wishes of love and safe returns home to the crowd that so worships them. Preparation to tear down and packup equipment has already started around you, and you pause in the wings, shaking your head when security tries to usher you to move.

He’ll be there. He’ll find you.

Sure enough, he’s all legs and hair when he appears at last, leaping over a thick wire before it can catch his boot and twist his ankle. He’s got a towel in his hand, but it’s useless on his long, wet, curly hair. He’s all but drenched from head to toe, with most of his grey t-shirt stained with sweat and clinging to his body, and while the heat is mainly to blame for that, the water he’d been spitting and throwing hadn’t helped (although, it had probably cooled him off).

He’s tanner than you remember him being last, but that’s what months of outdoor shows and sightseeing on off days will do to him. The muscles on his slick arms look just a little bigger and more defined, too, and even the most casual twist or bend of his heavily tattooed left arm makes ink practically jump every time.

His eyes, though, are most striking, and they’re only for you as he continues his beeline in your direction.

“You’re soaked, love,” he teases you through a cheeky grin and popping dimples with a voice like honey and sandpaper.

You won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his double-entendre.

“Some twat kept spitting water at me the whole night,” you inform him, opening your arms for him.

Harry grins wider – a cocky, satisfied grin. “Yeah?” His hand slides possessively around your waist for the first time in ages and you fold your hands behing his neck. “Tell me his name an’ I’ll get him.”

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nessrs  asked:

how can i get vagued by plebcomix asking for a friend

1. message her telling her you’re really sorry about all the hate she’s getting over tumblr user genderists and tell her she doesn’t deserve it
2. have an earnest and loving conversation with her in which she pours out her fears & insecurities
3. start talking to her on a regular basis
4. admit one day, after many months, that you think you have feelings for her.
5. arrange to meet her irl. tell her you feel a connection with her that you’ve never felt with anyone else. kiss her on a ferris wheel and buy her ice cream.
6. after a year or so, move in with her.
7. one day, take her on a date to the beach. as you walk by the surf hand-in-hand, the fading sunlight bleeding pink and red where the water meets the sky, lower down onto one knee in the sand. tell her she’s always been the one for you, that there’s no one else like her, that she makes you laugh and cry and think. take out the ring box you had been keeping in your pocket and open it. the ring is silver with a sapphire stone– tell her the blue matches her eyes, and that you know she hates the diamond industry. plebcomics, you say, will you marry me? as she weeps and says yes over and over again, slip the ring onto her finger and kiss her hand tenderly.
8. buy a house and adopt a dog together. live in marital bliss. make her eggs benedict on sunday mornings because it’s her favorite. go on hikes with her; make a pact to visit every national park together before you die. laugh together when she teaches the dog to play dead whenever she says “bang” and points her finger like a gun. braid her hair for her every evening while you talk about your days. tend your garden together and bring in fresh, sweet tomatoes to make salads and tomato soup with.
9. tell her you want a divorce. that you’ve never loved her, you never have. turn your back on her while she cries.
10. chuckle quietly to yourself when a twelve-page comic is published on her blog a week later about the fucking sjws always breaking her heart and making her think she was worthy of another person’s love and care and tenderness and lying through their teeth for so many years and oh god vanessa why did you have to do make her think you loved her? she sits alone on the sofa, a shell of the woman she once was.