gentle flame

Always Designate a Driver

@taylor-tut @whump-dump

Based off this “prompt”

Lance McClain prided himself on being a party person. He was always the first up on any birthday, making a special breakfast or bringing a special coffee (on the house, courtesy of Lance’s Starbucks employee discount). He enjoyed going out to clubs and dancing with his friends, even though he wasn’t a very big drinker. Hell, if Pidge invited him to 4AM mini golf in the dark he would go in a heartbeat.

Just not today.

Not when every inch of him ached. His limbs were heavy, gravity pulling each inch of him down to hell, slowly, slowly. Each individual ache added to the misery of the dull throbbing in his head, pain behind his eyes more than anything else. There was something sad about staying home to sleep, and not being quite able to get there.

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the lavish lovers

venus in taurus- the goddess. fixed, feminine earth manifests as the heart of a jewelry box; it is overflowing and crystalline, precious and of the highest standard. this heart always wants more, and wants a love that will satiate their boundless fantasy. this love is a sensuous love, the room service as well as the romantic weekend in a hotel and spa.

venus in leo- the queen. fixed, masculine fire billows outward in delicious, stabilized yellow flames. a gentle, consistent fire, it warms and radiates outward to touch everyone they meet. this heart wants grandiosity. just as a bonfire needs patient care, this heart needs a generous show of affection to be able to grant back the same love.

both are lovers that want to receive gifts, and equally adore giving them. their love is best shown in making their person feel adored and beautiful, and they wish to see the beauty that life has to offer.

“nobody will love you until you love yourself.”

that seemed true to me for a very long time; i hated myself, and so did everyone else, i believed. i was in a black pit. even the people who called me a friend were secretly hiding hatred, i knew it. after all, inside of me was a deepening maw, a chasm no love could cross.

i ruined everything i touched. the first person who loved me was terrified of the black hiding behind my eyes. she said once it was like two spirits lived in my body: the bright she loved and a terrible powerful darkness she didn’t know the name of.

she didn’t love me, right? she was only in love with the light. i was a good trickster, a talented liar; conned people into being my friend even when i danced the edge of death.

nobody will love you.

here is a story told to me: one sad boy finds a dog on the side of the road, takes him to the vet. doesn’t have the money for it, but he helps the dog and the dog’s three legs. this kid goes into debt for a dog. because the dog needed help and there was nobody else around to offer it.

here is a story told to me: a girl in the library finds that little kids love hearing her voice tell stories. she wears long sleeves to her thursday fairytale meetings, and they call her a princess. at school she hunches her shoulders and keeps her head down. here, she sits tall and makes faces and brings the house down.

here is a story told to me: a teen is sleeping on the couch of their best friend ever since the word “trans” came up in an argument. they don’t know how to pay back the kindness so every morning they make coffee and when they finally get together five dollars in change they spend it to make a cake for the family.

nobody will love you; you’re useless like this; you’re a big aching mess. nobody ever loves a burden, nobody could love this.

here is the end of the story: they are a rage of bitter nights and ready to step over a ledge even though they fear the flying. this is when a friend comes in with nothing but a blanket, a box, and a half-eaten bag of cheetos. inside the box lies a supply of hormones. when a very small friend who just wants to make a difference shows it’s possible to have your cake and eat it too. 

here is the end of the story: the girl is devoured by thin. she lies in a hospital bed and pictures only blankness. this is when a card shows up, hand drawn with sixteen crayon signatures all saying “i love you” in terrible spelling. when a group of very small children who owe her magic give her it back.

here is the end of the story: the boy is sitting in bed weeping, hand on a razor, thinking about the ending, when a dog nuzzles open his door and starts whining. when a very small wounded dog with three legs and everything to owe and only love comes into the picture.

we find our way to love only by the paths that others have woven for us. we light a candle with another person’s gentle flame. we guide ourselves out of the holes through the ropes of other people. we learn to love ourselves because other people do.

here is the better part: the stories are of survival, and they are all true.

here is the best part: one day these stories will be about you.

Making The Grade - St. Paddy’s Day

A/N: This is canon, and occurs shortly after MtG ends.  Enjoy!

Niall had been insistent that Poppy come out for St. Patrick’s Day with him, despite her lamenting that he should go out and enjoy time with his friends. He whined and nibbled at her earlobe, pulling her off his desk and onto his lap in his tiny office. “C’mon puppy, ya gotta come out. All my friends wanna meet you.”  Poppy groaned at the nip of his teeth against her skin and at the ridiculous pet name he’d started using more frequently.

“I didn’t think it was possible to make my name any more obnoxious, but you’ve done it Horan.”

Niall giggled softly into her skin and trailed his fingers across the perpetually tattered cuffs of her cozy sweatshirt. “You love it.  Please come out with us. All my mates are flying in - even my idiot cousins that I haven’t seen since last Christmas.”

At the mention of Christmas, Poppy’s resolve crumbled. Three months earlier, Niall had cancelled his plans to fly home to Ireland for Christmas when he found out Poppy was spending it alone, holed up in her apartment. She had argued with him that he hadn’t been home in a year, but his insistence that no one should be alone on Christmas  was steadfast.  It had ended up being one of the best holidays she’d ever had.  Poppy sighed and twisted her slender fingers with his thick ones. “Ok. I’ll come. I’ll meet you guys out though, I’ve got to finish some articles. How will I be able to find you?”

Niall grinned mischievously and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You won’t be able to miss us. Trust me.”

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The Desert is a Thirsty Motherfucker

for @taylor-tut - sorry it’s so small!

Three days. They had been stuck for three days. Keith was pissed, sure, but Shiro was growing more and more livid each day. After day one he stopped defending the castle’s inability and started focusing more, through the growing anger, on his fellow paladins.

Lance thought it was only fair to do his part, and share his water. Or, y'know, give it away completely.

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~ TBT’s Candle Visualization and Grounding Exercise ~

What You’ll Need:

- A single candle; unscented (try a small birthday, votive, or mini taper candle)

- A quiet and dark place to sit and light the candle

What To Do: 

1. Sit comfortably in your space. When you’re settled, light your candle and watch it closely.

2. Examine the flame first. Is it large and bright? Small and glowing? See as it waves back and forth wildly, or slow and steadily. Watch the colours as they flicker within the fire: Orange, red, yellow, white, and blue. Allow your eyes to wander the the wax pooling beneath the blackened wick, and fix onto the waxy liquid formations that decorate the top of your candle. The melting wax is beading down the body of your candle and creating veins along it.

3. Now, picture a gentle aura around the flame. See it grow, expanding towards you. It envelops you with its light and warmth, cleansing you of all negative energy, blockages, and tension. The candle remains still, slowly burning away to nothing, just as your worries are. Nothing can touch you; you’re protected. All becomes manageable in that moment.

4. Close your eyes and breathe again. Take three deep breaths, in through your nose and then out through your mouth. Open your eyes and blow out the candle, then either dispose of or recycle the remains.


When working with candles and open flames, always be sure to have water handy, and take every precaution necessary for the prevention of fires. Never leave a flame unattended.


- Rose @ TerraBellaTarot

Follow for more aesthetics, witchcraft, and tarot!

Where Bad Ideas Meet Good Intentions

A.N - For the Fandom Bingo card spot 5-4; Reborn.


“Seduction is an art form,” Reborn says, “And its one you need to learn.”

“Why?” Tsuna asks, looking honestly baffled. At seventeen he’s sprung up like a weed, and is now up to Reborn’s shoulders. “I mean, I know I’m an important figure, but… wouldn’t it make more sense to keep my distance and not know how to seduce people? Or, know what to look for, but not do the seducing myself?”

They’re good points. “No, and no. Knowing is one thing, but you need to know how to turn the tide in your favor. If the enemy is using seduction to knock you off-balance, knowing what to look for won’t stop you falling for it. However, if you seduce as well as become seduced, then you can contest it better. Make sense?”

“I… think so?”

Reborn snorts. “You’ll understand once you start doing it. You’re starting at the top and working your way down, so you’ll keep going until you get it. Feel honored you’re starting with me, Tsuna.”

“Wait, what?” Tsuna stares at him. “That’s… you?”

“Did I stutter?” He smirks when Tsuna grimaces. “Now, show me what you can do.”

“Right now?”

“You’ve got two weeks before my next mission.” He spreads his hands. “I look forward to what you have to offer me, Decimo.” He purrs out the title and takes note of the little jump in Tsuna’s Flames, a tell. 

And then, just to be cruel, he walks out of the room, leaving his flustered student behind. Ah, this is going to be fun.

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Golden Ember // E2!Barry x Reader

Request: Can you do an E2 barry imagine where the reader is central city’s hero maybe she has fire powers and during a hostage situation at the ccpd she gets wounded trying to “save the day” and e2 barry grows a pear and decides to help her after seeing her trying to play it off and she later “thanks” him

Warnings: more smol sweet BBY E2 Barry
Author’s Note: I’m (probably??) going to make more parts to this because I’m loving this character tbh.

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Arms gripped her waist like durasteel girders. She was jerked back as she tried to lurch forward, her bruised elbows colliding with his chest. He didn’t relent when she snarled, when she kicked and scratched with broken, bloodied nails.

“You’re going to make it worse.” His voice was gentle. The flames danced like serpents on his eyes as he stared ahead, helpless.

“We have to stop him. Please, let me go. I have to try.”

“You’ll get yourself killed.”

The second she let her guard down, he pulled her backwards into the shelter of the cliffs. Deep in the shadows they were hidden from the inferno on the horizon. Luke was alone against the approaching force of black and malice. Troopers in white were scattered against the dying sky. 

Defeated, Rey sighed. “Why don’t you go help them?”

“I don’t owe them my loyalty. My priority is your safety.”

“After you battered me to Chaos and back.”

“You insisted we fight. Now I’m insisting we wait.” When she refused to calm down, he snaked his arms tighter around her. “He can take care of this. We’re no use to him burned and injured.”

She grumbled and settled against his chest. His breath tickled the back of her neck, her ears, her scalp, soft and slow. “You’re right,” she admitted, resting her head against his collarbone.

anonymous asked:

38 pls? :P “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

i really wanted to do this and im sorry these asks were sent 305823 years ago


#38-”You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” 

- [tw: slight panic attack? idk im not great at writing them so it probably wont affect ya]

Jack didn’t know why he tortured himself like this. 

You’d think he’d learn from past experiences. 

But no. Time and time again he would tell himself it’d be fine! He would enjoy it when he got to the top! Everyone else seems to! It’ll be so pretty!

And yet here he was, at the top of a skyscraper, quietly panicking as he gripped the bar in front of him. 

The glass in front of him provided no comfort, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horrifying scene in front of him. He couldn’t stop looking down. Everything was so small below him.

Jack’s head felt light, his breathing was quickly becoming shallow. He couldn’t see anything else but what was below him. 

His heart was pounding in his ears. 

Why did he do this again?

He couldn’t feel his feet. Were they still on the ground? Was he falling? He felt like he was falling. 

Deep breaths. In…

There’s so many people down there.


What if the floor gives way?


What if the glass breaks?


Jack forced his eyes closed, his hands still holding onto the “safety” bar that separated him from the window. His breathing was still fast and uneven, and he felt like he was going to pass out. 

He couldn’t do that. Not here anyway. So with the little strength he had, he pushed himself away from the bar and-

Woke up in someone’s arms.

What? No, just a few seconds ago he had been walking away from the window. He was on his way to the exit, right? 

“ okay?” Someone was talking to him. It was close, but at the same time it was a million miles away. Jack blindly reached up to fix his glasses, eyes desperately trying to focus on the source of the voice. 

A hand waved in front of his face, and Jack flinched. “Oh good, you’re awake.” the voice was clearer now. It belonged to a man. Jack’s eyes slowly adjusted and he peered up at the face above him. 

He was becoming aware of the fact that he was draped across this person’s lap, and there was an arm supporting his head and another on the small of his back. Jack was also aware of the fact that he had no idea who this person was.

Those blue eyes..the blonde hair, that perfect smile. Damn this guy was hot. 

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He couldn’t form proper words and he really didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of this guy. He thought for a second, then cleared his throat and said the first thing that came to mind.

“So why are you holding me?” his voice cracked, much to his embarrassment, and he felt his cheeks flame. Shit.

A gentle laugh came from the man above Jack, sending chills through him. “I can let go of you if you want-”

“N-no,” Jack said a little too quickly, “I..don’t think I’ll be getting up anytime soon. My head hurts.” Jack mumbled, suddenly pinching the bridge of his nose. “What actually happened?” 

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Jack was blushing again. 

“To be fair,” Jack rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the hazy feeling, “I didn’t know where I was fainting.” he cracked a smile, which was traded for another soft laugh.

The hand that was on his back slipped away and ran through Jack’s hair, sweeping it away from his face and quickly calming him. 

“You were out cold for a while. Started to scare me.” Jack tried to sit up, but he was pushed back down and shushed by his new caretaker. 

“I hate heights so much.” Jack muttered, eyes fluttering closed as he gave in to the grip holding him down. 

“Then why on earth were you up here?”

“I asked myself the same question.” There was another laugh, followed by a quiet sigh. Jack opened his eyes, gaze locking with the pair above him. “You’re kinda pretty.” he heard himself say. Why the fuck-

“I promise I’m prettier at different angles than this one.” he grinned. Then, before Jack could retort: “As much as I enjoy having you lie here,” Jack was suddenly being picked up, head still supported by a strong arm, “why don’t you and I go find somewhere that isn’t twelve hundred feet high while you recover. Sound good?” 

“I’d like that.” Jack blushed again as his eyes met with his counterpart’s.

“Felix, by the way.” 

“The name’s Seán, but everyone calls me Jack.” 

“Nice to meet you, Seán.” Felix’s voice was smooth and low next to Jack’s ear as he walked towards the exit. “Thanks for dropping in.” 

Hotland!Grillby AU

The King advised all his subjects to be kind and respectful to the Monster that resides in Hotland…

… The Embodiment of Hotland…

Hotland itself…

He was a quiet gentle flame who knows full well how destructive and dangerous he can be. He would not dare or dream to hurt anyone. The last thing he want was to lose the people who now keeps him company underground.

He’s been so lonely down here for years…

Can also work as an Origin story for Grillby. Probably. I like the thought of him fighting in the War beside Gaster as well, but I also want him to be ‘Hotland’… so this is the Hotland!Grillby AU omg not another AU

Random Note. The ‘Fire Exit’ at Grillby’s is a door directly connected to Hotland.xD

Seek Me, Find Me

Written with full go-ahead from @kerrwynn

Fret not Sweet Miss Ver’Sarn. I do have my reservations about everyone, yourself included. Don’t make the mistake of thinking my attempt to warn you was purely out of chivalry. there was a generous amount of self-interest involved in keeping you around.

If I didn’t know any better I would think that your description of this pet also was an attempt to describe yourself.


Beautiful, delicate, seemingly harmless, but lethal in ways that would make you regret ever touching them.

That was how Aranya described the sewer-pipe jellies that inhabited Dalaran’s Underbelly, which she sometimes collected in passing and gave as exotic gifts to those she held in respect and esteem.

Kerrwynn had become one such person, and she was not one to desire her troubles on his head. Yet, trouble seemed to find him on its own anyway, as it seemed to do with all the Scions whenever her back was turned.

The phoenix-mage stared long at the letter in her hands. Ever since Kerrwynn had sent it, she had wondered, what self-interest of his was invested in her? And then when she caught herself wondering, she would deliberately put it out of her mind and determine to forget about it, tell herself it didn’t matter.

But he mattered. His life mattered.

And now he was in trouble. There had been a crash, he had been aboard the airship when it happened, but how his pet, Synari, had survived and whether or not Kerrwynn survived was unknown.

Aranya crushed the letter in her hand. She stalked from her house on the hill of lilies in Sunspire Port and went beyond the town, into the forest. To the Scorched Grove.

There, amidst the husks of once-proud trees, stood the one monolithic runestone that failed to turn back the plague of the Scourge. Its power was not completely absent, however, only diminished, from what it should be.

But it was more than enough to charge the grove with the power that Aranya sought use.

Words in an archaic Thalassian dialect flowed from her lips, magic twisted and danced in the strands of reality, humming, igniting, until a rune of fire was bound at the arcanist’s feet.

Aranya stood in the center of the glowing red lines on the ground, Kerrwynn’s crumpled letter in her hand. She knelt.

“I seek you.”

The inked parchment caught flame seemingly from nothing, igniting within her grasp at her words.

“See him…” spoke the sorceress to the fire in her hands. “Find him,” she commanded.

The rune flared, and the flames within Aranya’s palms traveled up her arms, enveloped her chest, shoulders, torso, and further, until they engulfed her completely. 

“Where are you?”

The phoenix-mage felt the warmth of the fire, the magic threading through her. Her eyes clouded, briefly, and she blinked as they stung for a split second. She opened them to feel the dying echoes from the last embers of the airship wreck.

They had seen him, they knew him.

“Show me.”

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On the Street, There Is a Corner

He played every day at 4 o’clock.

Laundry dried, paving stones listened, coffee in small cups chilled on windowsills, on cafe counters, on streetside tables. Cigarette smoke wafted, blown by breath or breeze, dogs were held and hushed and narrow streets cradled his music. School children quieted their shrieking, ran around him like a stone in their river, his eyes closed and his shoulders hunched around a battered violin. On the body was a scratch, on the neck a name half-carved, an A, two N’s and another A. Play to the streets, old man. Play to the stones. Play to the children and the laundry drying overhead. Play to the ladies leaning on their windows and the other old men with black coffee cooling in small cups by their elbows. Play to the empty air and the casual wind. Play to the corner just behind you, the one you haven’t looked at in years.

At 3:30 every afternoon, the old man walks backwards from his home just a few doors away, sets down his case and takes out his violin. Tunes and plays and keeps his eyes closed to never catch an accidental view, not in puddle or carried mirror, not in sunglasses or the glossy surface of a green or brown eye passing him on that narrow street. A deep breath and shaken fingers, he sets the air on music and plays his gentle flames up and down the buildings. A corner never looked at, a turn taken only once. On it there is no storefront, no window. There is a crack in one of the stones, on another there is carved a heart, and at the base there is a rusty gutter wrought of iron and damp with light morning rain. He never looks but sees still the footprints on that street made by small shoes that stepped in a puddle, wetting small socks, small ankles. They are always damp, those prints, always just seconds from fading in the sun that comes out at 4 o’clock.

Ear cocked, head tilted, fingers nimble upon the strings, he listens for small footsteps, excited clicks upon the stone, a sing-song voice calling out his name. He barely hears the music that he plays to the corner he never looks at, to a street full of people that, like him, have not forgotten the reason that he plays.

Not yet.

Photo Credit: The violinist, by Tony Vaccaro. Venice, Italy, 1947.

When you Look at Her

pretty as a picture
as warm as a flame
as gentle as a flower
she’s one in the same

quiet as a mouse
calm as a stream
creative as a writer
in their very own dream

but pictures have secrets
tales untold
objects removed from focus
to die with the old

hidden ideas visible
but nothing uttered
blurring the edges
in a little broken frame

Let the Fire Build Into a Blaze

A.N - For the Fandom Bingo card spot 1-2; ‘Giotto x Tsuna’. (Also more time travel AU because it won’t leave me alone oh god get it out of my head.)

“Come here,” Giotto orders, low and intimate, slowly extending his hand out. Tsuna jerks like a startled horse, eyes blazing as he stares at Giotto, nostrils flared. His muscles have tensed up, and the blond can practically see the back-and-forth fight between instinct and obedience in his head. Instinct says uncertain, unknown, while obedience is telling him go, listen to your blood. But he’s fighting both, Giotto is pleased to see, his Sky Flames flickering out, tasting the air, waiting for the trap to spring itself while his eyes sweep the forest, looking for quick exits.

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  • Aries: Their wings don’t really start or end. They’re just flames in the shape of wings that can shift temperature. When they’re happy, their wings are a soft, gentle flame, and when they’re angry, their wings glow a bluish-white, and can double as a weapon.
  • Taurus: Your wings are fuzzy and warm. They’re waterproof like an otter’s, and a blackish blue like a raven’s feathers. Despite their thick and fluffy appearance, you can fly incredibly fast and high. You can use them to nurture baby animals.
  • Gemini: The literal definition of Tinkerbell. Your wings are a translucent green, and paper thin. Trails of forest green glitter outline them and the center. Even though they’re thin, they’re as sharp as glass shards.
  • Cancer: You have huge, fluttering butterfly wings. They’re a dark, maternal blue and shift into high-powered fins in the water. They have a hidden set of gills where they are attached to your back.
  • Leo: Their wings are the wings of golden dragon wings. They can be used to lure humans and animals alike, and excrete poison from one end, and aphrodisiac on the other. They have the appearance of solid gold bars.
  • Virgo: White, angel wings at their purest. They fall down by their sides, and their feathers are never out of place. Often found admiring their wings in mirrors and such.
  • Libra: While they were born with a set of white outline of regular wings, they have the unique ability to change their wings at their whim. They can adjust size, thickness, texture, color, and temperature.
  • Scorpio: You have sharp, and precise wings. They are a cold, unforgiving silver. They have a hidden set of jaws as a self defense mechanism.
  • Sagittarius: They have regular sized, shredded looking wings with tattoos clearly worn out from all of their adventuring and ridiculous pranks. Once a month, they molt their wings and they return to their original orange-y canvas.
  • Capricorn: Soft, purple wings. They look and smell like lavender fields. The smell of their wings is a powerful tranquilizer, and they leave a trail of pollen where they go.
  • Aquarius: Mirror-like wings, reflective and sharp. Can ensnare people on the wrong side of their mirror wings. Their wings are full of wing modifications and piercings.
  • Pisces: Long flowy wings that look heavy but they levitate on their own. They’re baby blue and secrete glitter. Their wings are like unicorn’s blood - you can use it to save your life, but once ingested, you have but half a life.