Tea Asks
  • earl grey:how do you take your tea?
  • lady grey:favourite outfit?
  • black tea: where are you from?
  • irish breakfast:what country do you want to visit?
  • turkish tea: where have you travelled?
  • white tea:occupation/career aspirations
  • rooiboos: 3 facts about my family
  • matcha: favourite book?
  • blooming tea: favourite flower?
  • chamomile:comfort movie?
  • peppermint:what’s your favourite holiday and why?
  • milk:do you have any allergies?
  • sugar:tell me about your first crush
  • honey:type out the last text you sent
  • ginger: favourite colour(s)?
  • green tea:where do you feel most at peace?
  • bubble tea:what ride would you pick at an amusement park?
  • mug:when/where do you normally drink tea?
  • teacup: last tea party?
  • teapot: music preference?
  • chai:what do you order at starbucks?
  • oolong: ideal romantic partner?
  • darjeeling: a hobby?
  • pu-erh: 3 random facts about myself
  • herbal:post a selfie
  • coffee:surprise coffee ask! how do you take your coffee?
Hetalia Dodgeball
  • Italy: hides behind Germany, manages to stay in the game a while by just running away
  • Germany: one of the last men standing, takes it way too seriously and kind of scares everyone else because he throws really hard
  • Japan: stays in the game for a long time because he's good at catching balls, but he's not as good at throwing them so he doesn't help his team much
  • America: accidentally knocks someone out because he doesn't know his own strength, leaves to go help the person who got k.o'd
  • England: brags about how well he's going to do then gets hit in the face almost immediately and trudges off, cursing and muttering about how he wasn't ready and this game is stupid
  • France: decent at dodging but can't catch or throw much, stays in the game on a similar strategy to Italy but without a Germany to hide behind
  • Russia: made the case that if he hit the ball with his face hard enough that it bounced back to the other side and hit someone else, it should count as catching it--got out because the rest of the world didn't see it that way
  • China: gets out after catching a few and making a couple of good throws because he's slow to get out of the way of balls he can't catch
  • Canada: is the person America knocked out
  • Prussia: as overly invested as his brother, but louder about it, gets out when he takes a little too much time to brag about that awesome throw he just made
  • Austria: pretends to be hurt so he doesn't have to play
  • Spain: having a really good time, not the first or the last to get out and makes one really good throw, cheers on his team loudly once he's out
  • Romano: didn't want to play in the first place, got dragged there and actually really enjoyed himself for about 1 minute before getting out, at which point he goes back to grumbling and cussing about how stupid this game is and how he didn't want to be here
  • Hungary: as good at this game as Germany, better at still having fun and remembering that it's a game not a damn war

anonymous asked:

Hi! I absolutely love your headcanons and I was wondering if you could do a reaction for Genji, Sombra, Widow and Mercy canon for when they find their kid creeping back into the house after a sneak-out. (You don't have to do all four!!)

~My max is five so doing all four is fine! This one was really fun. 


  • Genji didn’t notice them sneaking out. His kid knows his father is a ninja so to beat a ninja, you must become a ninja. They put so much time and effort into sneaking out of the house that it’s almost admirable. Almost. 
  • Shortly after they leave, Genji wakes up because he can sense something is wrong. 
  • It becomes That Awkward Moment when he catches the kid trying to sneak back in through the window. 
  • They’re both completely silent for the longest second before he starts yelling in Japanese. 
  • “You’re grounded…for…‘till college.”


  • Sombra sleeps like the dead so sneaking out isn’t hard. Getting back in is the hard part. 
  • Her sleeping schedule is sporadic so the kid doesn’t know what time she’ll be up. They just have to leave and be back as soon as possible. 
  • Sombra wakes up in the middle of the night and starts working before she notices that it’s too quiet in the house. 
  • Once she realizes your gone, she double locks all the doors and windows except the back door and sits in the kitchen waiting for you to come in. Expect the dramatic ‘single light turning on’ moment.
  • She’s taking all of the electronics. You’re living an amish life until she ungrounds you. 


  • The minute the kid left the house, her eyes snapped open. Her ‘my child is being a little shit’ senses were tingling. 
  • She’s up waiting until they get back. 
  • When she hears the car rolling up, she goes outside and is waiting on the front porch for them. The kid’s friends wonders if they should just drive away. The kid knows their mother. She’ll find them. They should just face the music. 
  • Everyone is in trouble. The kid’s in trouble. Their friend is in trouble. 
  • She’s more upset with herself for not noticing sooner. Her scolding is mostly her telling them that if they’re going to sneak out they need to get better at it. She also mentions that they could have just asked. She probably would have said yes. Now they must suffer the consequences. 
  • They’re so grounded, coffee would look at them and go ‘Damn!’


  • More of the ‘I’m very disappointed in you.” type of parent.
  • She woke up in the middle of the night and they were just gone. “Beds Empty, No Note, Car gone. You could have died!”
  • She’s probably the most angry when they get back because she was so worried. In the span of 2 minutes, she thought through 101 ways they could have been dead in a ditch somewhere. 
  • Honestly, it’ll probably be their first and last time sneaking out because Mercy looked so devastated that they didn’t trust her enough to tell her.  
  • They’re grounded and honestly, her anger and disappointment probably hurts more than anything. 

anonymous asked:

can u do a pharmercy prompt where angela smokes

It’s amazing that you requested this because after I saw this post I literally thought to myself “I really want to know what a smoking Mercy is like.” And I never wrote it because I thought it might actually be too out of character.

But now you’ve given me an excuse to do it anyway, so THANK YOU. <3

It isn’t a habit, entirely. She does not skip out in the day to come out here. She knows the medical ramifications, has studied them intently in school, and later, on her own; a morbid curiosity into her own self-destructive tendency.

Everyone has them, Angela reasons, why shouldn’t she? She is not an angel, for all she pretends. For all she hopes and aspires to. In her mind there is an ideal woman there: proud and strong and unbelievably kind. Angela endeavors, and she fights - as she always has. One day, she thinks, she may become the thing the world repeatedly tells her she is.

It is midnight, everyone is asleep, and she is sitting on the flat metal roof of the base in Gibraltar, mapping the constellations her father had once pointed out to her.

It’s the anniversary of his death - their death. The neural implant in her spine is dislodged by a fraction of a hair from a previous mission and it hurts.

Angela lights a cigarette, her knees pulled up and tucked under her chin and she accepts the pain of both these things as wisps of smoke float away, illuminated by the moonlight; there’s Orion.

The other night Angela had sat beside Fareeha and pointed out the stars, their significance - had talked about Greek mythology, a favorite subject of hers, and had listened to Fareeha recount what she remembered of Egyptian mythology from her time in school. Angela, studious to a detrimental degree and endlessly fascinated with the things Fareeha has to share, looked up more, learned more.

Angela breathes in; breathes in smoke, lets it burn her esophagus a little bit, thinks of how it is killing her a little more with each drag and admits to herself that she may truly love another person again.

It is terrifying.

It is terrifying because Angela cares deeply for life, in general, her friends in particular, but she knows that each string she ties to them, binds them to her, is a liability - the best medical professionals in the world are the ones who look first for results; last, out for the people around them. Statistically, their accomplishments are often more significant. Angela has always kept a professional distance - it is the best way she knows how to save lives.

Fareeha is a wild card. She is so brave and so loyal and so unbelievably beautiful, good, much more than Angela deserves. And yet she lingers; to eat lunch with her and invite her out to walk around town; to spend thirty minutes at a claw machine in a super market trying (unsuccessfully) to win trivial items. (Angela has the dinosaur shaped trinket on her bedside table even now).

Angela sighs, the cigarette is to the filter so she unfurls, presses it against the heel of her boot to extinguish what’s left and puts the butt back in the box, to be thrown away later.

Orion hasn’t moved, her parents are still gone, the pain at the base of her neck is nearly unbearable.

Perhaps nothing has changed.

Angela brushes off her pants, shivers against the chilly evening air and considers going back to her room. Walks there, in fact, but detours to walk further down the hall, to stop at a familiar door.

Should she go in? She has before.

Fareeha is undoubtedly asleep; Angela would be displeased if she wasn’t.

The door opens for her when she slides it. Fareeha, afraid of confined spaces, small rooms, does not lock doors. She has confessed this to Angela; not even bathroom stalls, she is especially adverse to elevators.

Angela removes her shoes, placed them by the entrance. Removes her pants and her sweater and folds them, placing them on Fareeha’s desk, so that she is standing in her shirt and underwear.

She moves to the bed, sees Fareeha there, sprawled out as she often is - the woman does not sleep as she had once assumed she might - curled into herself. She’s breathing through her mouth, her shirt loose, her hair splayed against her pillow.

Angela pushes her lightly and she stirs, she is a notoriously light sleeper.

“Hmm?” She hums, and moves slightly towards Angela. Angela crawls over her, lays in the space between Fareeha and the wall.

“Can I stay?” She asks, quietly.

“Of course,” replies Fareeha, wraps an arm around her middle to pull Angela into her. Angela is not always in this position, sometimes Fareeha hurts too, so they trade. But tonight Angela wants to be held and she is glad for it.

Fareeha buries her face in the nape of Angela’s neck and even that seems to alleviate the pain there (tomorrow she will have to fix it; tonight she cannot be bothered).

“I did not know you smoked,” Fareeha says eventually; it occurs to Angela she must smell the lingering traces there in her hair, or perhaps from her mouth as she breaths out.

“I don’t,” Angela says.

Fareeha squeezes tighter, seems to engulf her. She says nothing else and soon her exhales even out and Angela is left awake, feeling warm - so warm. Feeling okay.

tim shepard headcanons
  • the shepards are latinx!
  • tim & curly both get their curly hair from their dad
  • curly is tim’s mini-me
  • takes such pride in his scars & will absolutely tell each one’s story to anyone who asks
  • not necessarily a neat freak but everything must be left in the spot where he put it
  • his pancakes are the BEST, angel & curly always wake him up before school to make them
  • “get the fuck outta my room” 
  • “but tuesday is pancake day, timmy!!” 
  • always mumbling stuff under his breath
  • If Looks Could Kill™
  • when he’s mad his voice gets so low and it is terrifying
  • so so smart, no one gives him enough credit
  • always has a cigarette between his lips

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by your side

Originally posted by ohitsjustcorina

a/n: this song is beautiful.

pairing: yuto x reader (gender neutral)

rating: angst & fluff

word count: 1,460

  Everyone had their share of bad days. Yuto knew that but he wished that somehow, no one would have to go through that, himself included. That past couple of weeks made Yuto think he was treading a raging sea.

  He felt heavy. He felt as if he was being weighed down by some imaginary weight. His muscles also ached but that was no surprise since tension resided within him. What frustrated Yuto the most was that he couldn’t figure out the reason for his gloomy state.

 Yuto racked his brain for a reason but nothing came up. Maybe it was stress. There was a lot going on at that time and he often caught himself falling behind.

  Yeah, that was it. Except, it wasn’t.

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anonymous asked:

A scenario where Zelda has a competition with the champions? First one to make Link break his composure and turns as many shades of red as possible? Should be a piece of cake for Zelda for as much time as she spent with him...

“This is stupid.”

Link sits eagerly, hands in his lap and smile hard to wipe off. The idea that he had a reputation of being stoic made him proud. He worked hard to display neutrality and he wanted to be a good role model for children, showing that a strong and reputable knight could endure all that come. But as he sit there in the middle seat of the large dining table, presented before each Champion as well as his princess, he couldn’t contain the excitement of being the center of attention.

“Okay,” Zelda begins. “The first person to fluster Link or make him blush gets a unique, one of a kind medal that I had made just for this moment! Everything goes, so as you keep privacy in-tact.”

“This is so stupid,” Revali huffs, crossing his arms. “We should be practicing, Princess. Calamity Ganon could appear at any moment-”

“I thought of this game so you all could have a break. I know we’ve been working hard– all of us– and as your princess, I hate seeing everyone so tense  and stressed out. So please, indulge in this for me.” The room fell silent. Urbosa was the first to speak up.

“I’ll go first.” Link lets out one last chuckle, before he drops his expression flat. ‘I’ve got this,’ he thought to himself. Urbosa begins with what others could consider cheating: seduction. She struts over with a sexy saunter, one hand on her hip and the other taking down her hair. Once in front of him, she runs a hand down his cheek and sends him a wink. Urbosa was skillful in the art of seduction. It was one of her tricks for interrogations. But Link was not going to crack. He raised and eyebrow quizzically, receiving a fit of laughter from the onlooking Champions in response. Urbosa, frustrated, scoffed and turned back around in defeat.

“Step aside, Urbosa,” Daruk bellowed. “I know my buddy, Link!” With each step he made, he stomped harder and harder. With a big smile and sparkling eyes, Daruk aimed to make Link laugh. As he reached the hardest he could stomp, Link’s lips were beginning to tremble as he stifled his own laughter. Daruk saw this and grew desperate. He began to dance! Link couldn’t contain it and let out a hearty laugh, holding his stomach and wiping his tears. “I did it!” Daruk cheers.

“No, no, no! You’re supposed to make him blush!” Mipha corrects. Zelda agrees, and urges Mipha to try next. She approaches him shyly while he’s still attempting to recover from Daruk’s silly display. While he’s still giggling, Mipha takes his hands in hers and she can’t help but begin to giggle herself. “Link,” she starts, quietly. “This…actually might not be the best time to admit, but for the sake of competition, I will try.” Finally calming down, he looks at her still with a smile and eager eyes. The latter Champions look amongst themselves knowing what she’s about to do. “Link…I lo–” Link erupts in laughter once more, seeing Daruk dance again. Mipha was now the one blushing, looking back at Daruk. “That’s cheating! You ruined the moment!” Upset and agitated, she returns to the other Champions.

“Okay, Daruk no more dancing,” Zelda commands. She purses her lips as she walks over to Link confidently. Link finally manages to settle down as she approaches. Nervous, he fidgets in his seat and stuffs his hands snug between his thighs in anticipation. ‘I’ve known Link the longest,’ Zelda reassures herself. ‘I’m definitely going to win!’

“Link do you remember when we were younger and we would play house?” Link stiffens in his seat at the memory. “We were husband and wife, do you remember?” Link nods, eyes shaking as he gazes upon her. “And do you remember when we would take baths together?” Link shifts his gaze to the floor as she continues to drill these questions. “Do you still think about things like that?” She hums, now speaking softly for only his ears. “Do you ever think about us doing them…now?” Zelda looks at him from her peripheral, checking for a reddening of his face. He slowly turns to look her in the face, eyebrows twitching at the corners. Biting his lip, he gradually starts to shake his head no and smiles at her innocently and sticks his tongue out mockingly. “Oh come on!” Zelda yells in annoyance. 

“This is stupid,” Revali grumbles to himself. “Hey Link.” As his name was called, Link looks over, still beaming. He was winning! “I hate to confess, but you are my main motivator. I practice daily with the goal to surpass you. But alas, we cannot defeat Calamity Ganon without you and it…is a pleasure to support you in your destiny.” All eyes on him, Revali turned to face away from Link in embarrassment. 

“Wow,” Mipha mutters, mouth agape.

“I’ll take that medal now,” Revali states cooly. The rest look to Link to see him hunched over in his seat, hands attempting to hide the red tint that creeped up from his neck, while his form trembled in bashfulness.

-mod makar

Movie Asks
  • 1: Favourite movie(s)
  • 2: Favourite actor(s)
  • 3: Favourite genre(s)
  • 4: Favourite director(s)
  • 5: How often do you go see movies in theatres?
  • 6: Opinion on remakes
  • 7: Favourite era(s) of film
  • 8: Spell your first, middle, and last name out in movie titles
  • 9: Favourite film series
  • 10: Favourite remake(s)
  • 11: Favourite film character(s)
  • 12: Favourite movie(s) per genre
  • 13: Movie(s) you remember as part of your childhood
  • 14: Movie character(s) you identify with
  • 15: Prizes of your movie collection
  • 16: Blu-Ray, DVD, or VHS?
  • 17: Movie(s) you hate
  • 18: Actor(s) you hate
  • 19: Director(s) you hate
  • 20: Your pet peeve(s) in movies
  • 21: Movie character(s) you have a crush on
  • 22: Last movie you saw
  • 23: Favourite film adaptation of something from another medium
  • 24: Movies you think you probably should've seen but haven't for whatever reason.
  • 25: Worst experience you've ever had in a movie theatre
  • 26: People whose opinions on movies you value
  • 27: If you could make a movie, what would it be and why?
  • 28: If you could adapt something from another medium into film, what would it be and why?
  • 29: If you could remake any movie to improve what you felt was wrong about it the first time around, what would it be and why?
  • 30: Movie character(s) you find attractive

title: without the games
Jace/Simon, background Clary/Izzy,
rating: t
warnings: none
summary: The pounding in Simon’s chest got louder and louder, his heart flip-flopped when Jace rested his hand gently on the back of his neck and pressed their lips together. The kiss was warm and gentle and not at all like Simon had anticipated. It was softer and sweeter than he thought Jace was capable of. OR  the three times Simon convinced himself that kissing Jace meant nothing and the time he realized that he was wrong.
a/n: first off, I’m gifting this work to the amazingly patient @intangibel​ as a substitute for the fic I was supposed to write her for @shadowhuntersbetas​ Winter Fic Exchange (this one is much better, trust me). A huge thank you goes out to @tothebitterbetterend​ and @bookwhipped​ for doing such an amazing job of beta-ing this fic! It wouldn’t be what it is without both of you, so thanks!!


Pop music blared from the radio as all of the partygoers arranged themselves into a circle on the floor in the Lightwoods’ basement. Simon grabbed a can of soda from the table in the corner, which held a half-eaten birthday cake and a variety of drinks and candy that had previously been arranged into neat piles, before wedging himself into the space between Clary and Alec. He didn’t say anything because it was Isabelle’s birthday party but, in his opinion, sixteen was too old to play spin the bottle. Part of the reason was because he’d never actually kissed anyone before, but there was no way he was going to admit that. He’d practiced with his pillow before, another thing that he wasn’t going to admit – boy, had that been embarrassing when Rebecca walked in on him – and he’d fantasized about kissing someone, of course. It had just never happened.

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lisas999  asked:

For the Cherik prompts, perhaps a continuation of that lovely ficlet you wrote, it was an arranged marriage with influences of the swan princess :D

[Aaaaah dude I am so sorry this took 1,000 years to write - I have a whole universe in my head with these boys and its hard to pick which part to write - but it’s finally done! A continuation of this fic, but I feel like it can also be read as a standalone.]

Salty sea air whips at Charles’ face and hair, cloak fluttering in the wind as he stands next to his father, staring out across the waves at the approaching ship. It’s been ages since he accompanied his father to the docks. He goes on his own frequently enough, or with Logan and Moira to guard him anyway, but that’s always just to enjoy the market and to talk with his people as if he were one of them. Official business rarely happens by the sea: it freezes over for a good chunk of the year, and the roads through the plains are more passable even when frost sets in. It’s easier to just do business in the shelter of the palace. In fact, the last time Charles was here with his father must have been when they arrived home from their annual trip to Genosha. Charles’ stomach flips at the thought – it usually does whenever he thinks of Erik – and he shifts minutely, making sure to keep his expression serene even as his insides dance energetically.

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