champagne or rosé? outer space or the deep sea? glitter or iridescent? book stores or movie rental stores? paperback or hardcover? nude colours or bright colours? caves or forest clearings? hot beach sand or cool ocean waters?
Thor enjoyed the pleasant fragrances of Midgardian soaps. The one in the common-floor bathroom was labelled “Lavender Daydream” and was tinted a mild purple. It had a gentle floral scent with a slightly acrid undertone, and Thor wondered absently if Midgard had an actual plant named lavender, or if it was like blue-flavored drinks, with no non-artificial analogue. With Midgard, there was no way to tell. Regardless, it was a pleasing scent, and Thor would enjoy the soothing scent and gentle moisturizing properties of the liquid.
Midgard was such a fascinating world.
Thor toweled his hands dry and stepped out of the bathroom, intending to head towards the kitchen. Bruce had left some curry in the fridge, and Thor wanted to test his mettle against his perennial foe, the spicy pepper.
He took one imperious stride into the common room and tripped. He caught himself on lavender-scented palms, just shy of sprawling flat on his face on the carpet.
Sitting innocently in the middle of the hallway was Mjolnir.
Strange. He was sure he’d left his hammer on the sofa.
common room rules state that anything unlabeled is fair for anyone to use. shoulda put a sticky note on your mythological weapon of unimaginable power before you left it on my seat buddy
ripped jeans with fishnet stocking, giggling behind your hand, messy buns, loud parties, running barefoot through grass, comical laughter, beach sunsets, the view from building tops, red and silver glitter, the smell of books, rough hands and soft hearts, beanies, vintage vans, skinny dipping, varsity jackets, letting your hair down, bold lipstick, and brightly colored cocktails Ravenclaw:
Starry nights, city lights, boxer braids, old novels, the smell of pine needles, indie bands, cassettes, volks wagons, incense, dream catchers, grunge tumblr posts, scrunched eyebrows, color-coded everything, bags under your eyes, waking up on a rainy day, chokers, doodling on your hand, jumping in puddles, charm bracelets, painting your toenails different colors, dark eyelashes, and mirrors Hufflepuff:
Warm fuzzy sweaters, bonfires, birds sitting on telephone wires, autumn evenings and hot chocolate, bikes with flower baskets, denim overalls, stuffed bears, carnivals, skirts that flow behind you, vinyl records, country breezes,laughing so hard you can’t catch your breath, washi tape, pretty stationary, forts made out of sheets, bohemian tapestries, dancing around your room with friends, fogged up glass, shirts rolled up to the elbows, and tea Slytherin:
Motorcycle jackets, raising one eyebrow, alternative singers, blck, fog on city streets, dark polaroid pictures, keeping a diary, quotes about anything, vanilla scented candles, edgy nailpolish, waterfalls, silver rings, stone walls, wine corks, standing around the city at night, sly smirks, footprints in fresh snow, french purfume, and photo albums
A Olicity Historical AU: Touch can be so much more than just, physical.
A/N: T-rated and Isn’t the edit above just amazing? It reminds me of classic Regency book covers. My beautiful friend @quiveringbunny made it for the story and I’m so grateful. Thank you again so much, Lisa. xoxo
Felicity glanced down at her dance card and the empty, untouched, pristine parchment did not upset her. She did, however, release an impatient sigh as the closest ballroom door beckoned her to walk under its garishly embellished frame and away from the crush of the crowd.
“I wander’d lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.” - William Wordsworth
This stunning novel from Robin Talley drops at the end of
January, and follows fifteen-year-old Aki as she explores her sexuality. She’s
always known she was bisexual, but so far has only dated guys. When she goes on
a four-week youth mission trip to Mexico with her BFF, her mind isn’t on
dating, but then she meets Christa and everything changes. This book will wrap
itself around your heart and squeeze until you are left with nothing but gooey
When Griffin’s first love and ex-boyfriend Theo dies in a
tragic drowning accident, his world is flipped upside down. Even though Theo
had moved on—heading to college in California and seeing someone new, a guy
named Jackson—Griffin had always imagined they’d find their way back to each
other. This book explores grief and its effect on Griffin’s OCD…and what
happens when the only person who could possibly understand you is the person
who stole away your ex.
What really makes a mean girl tick? Quinn Littleton was a
skinny blonde social terrorist in stilettos, and now she’s dead. Proud geek
girl Emma had been enjoying a quiet life playing video games and staying off
the radar until her mom announced she was happily moving in with Quinn’s mom…and
Emma’s new nightmare of a stepsister. Now that Quinn is dead, Emma is finding
out there was more to Quinn than was obvious at first bite. Eva Darrows busts
stereotypes in this novel, including what the traditional family looks like.
Look for it on bookshelves March 28.
Director Sanvers prompt: one of them is recovering from knee surgery and is also v unlikely to sit still etc so the others try and take their mind off it in ways including but not limited to googly eyes on the knee and blanket forts
Well this doesn’t seem targeted straight for @onefootone at all, does it?
As many times as Agent Danvers had taken a hit and kept on trucking, Dr. Hamilton had warned her that the damage was only compounding, that things would only get worse as she got older, that things were no longer healing like they had fresh out of grad school and eventually something would break that could not be fixed. Dr. Hamilton was hopeful that the surgery went well, that Alex would be back on her feet soon enough, but she was still confined to at least a weekend of bed rest, several weeks of leave, and, at bare minimum, eight weeks of physical therapy before she could even be considered for fitness trials to get back in the field.
The worst part though, was that her knee hadn’t torn during some daring rescue of her idiot Kryptonian sister or the adopted little brother with horrible taste in women, or even a motorcycle accident, no, Alex Danvers, professional badass, tore her ACL at the NCSPCA Puppy Run when she was tackled by an excitable Newfoundland.
Dangerous hadn’t looked so cute since the Sawyer took a pipe to an Infernian.
She hadn’t even been home for three hours before the boredom set in, not that anyone was surprised. Anyone being the unfortunate Lucy Lane and Maggie Sawyer, purveyors of distractions and babysitters of injured girlfriends.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
Lucy snorted. “You literally just tried to walk to the kitchen without your crutches.”
“It’s like five feet from the couch.”
“Hamilton said bedrest, Danvers, you’re lucky we haven’t handcuffed you to the headboard.”
“I’d be luckier if you did.”
“Ha! You’d be whining even more, Danvers, be real.” Maggie laughed. “You’d be all pretty and tied down and you aren’t cleared for anything fun.”
Alex threw her head back against the couch, letting her neck curve over the back so Maggie, in the kitchen, could sort of be in her range of vision again. “Please, Sawyer, you two have proven time and again we can have plenty of fun when I can’t move.”
Maggie walked back over and dropped a plate of food gently in Alex’s lap, giving her a kiss to the forehead before settling in next to Lucy. “Be that as it may, the answer is no. Not until the stitches aren’t at risk of tearing.”
“Even then, you’re definitely getting tied down,” Lucy promised. “I wouldn’t want you undoing all of Hamilton’s hard work.”
“You’re no fun.”
Lucy reached up to twirl a lock of Maggie’s hair, smiling devilishly at her injured girlfriend, almost purring as she said, “Oh you know that’s not true.”
“But I’m bored.”
“Eat your food.”
“Eating is boring.”
“That’s not what you before.”
“Eating food is boring.”
“Read your weird science journals.”
“The new one hasn’t come yet.”
“Turn on Netflix.”
“TV is boring.”
Maggie watched the two smartest women she knew argue like kindergartners, They were both ridiculous. And they would continue to be ridiculous, she knew, until they found something appropriately distracting. She got up from the couch, first stopping by the bed to grab pillows and blankets, dumping them by the still arguing children, before hitting up the linen closet for all of the spare pillows and blankets Alex kept in what was quickly becoming their apartment. From the utility closet she grabbed the ladder that James had gotten her as a joke (so you can reach the top shelf in the kitchen, Sawyer) because he was an asshole just like the rest of her friends, and that was set up near Alex’s side of the couch. She pulled the lamp off the end table and stacked a dining chair on top, shoving a throw pillow in between its legs for stability.
Her girlfriends had stopped arguing, instead watching Maggie move Alex’s furniture around like Legos, content to watch her work. When Maggie was sure the chair wasn’t going to fall, she took another two chairs to stack behind the couch, one inverted over the other. Only then did she move for the comforter, thankful for yet another reason that Alex had such a ridiculously large bed, because it never worked quite right when the blankets weren’t long enough. Very carefully, she draped one end over the edge of the ladder, tying a corner around it and securing the knot with a hair tie. Then, she paced carefully around the back of the couch, dragging the blanket over the stacked chairs, to the far end of the couch. Over the top of that chair, there was just enough to secure that end to the leg of the end table.
Her girlfriends’ heads barely had clearance, but Maggie was satisfied the construction of her little love tent. Next came the mountains of pillows, some shoved from the ground to just under Alex’s massive knee brace, her leg suspended on the coffee table. Others, she tucked around her girlfriends, saving a few for herself.
“Maggie, what are you doing?” asked Alex.
“Well it’s entertaining to watch at any rate, but what is the plan here?” continued Lucy.
Maggie rolled her eyes, still roaming around the apartment. In the coat closet she found the box of kids’ art supplies that she regularly used to entertain the younger Danvers on bad days, complete with coloring books, glitter, and googly eyes. That too, joined the couch party, as did the remote. Maggie turned on Netflix and set phasers to gay (this week that meant Wynonna Earp).
Finally content with her work, she once again settled in between her favorite girls, box of art supplies in her lap. “While Danvers finishes her food and takes her pills, we’re going to watch some un-apologetically queer Supernatural. And then we’re going to color, because if you two are going to act like you’re five we might as well relive the fun parts.”
Alex grinned. “Pillow forts and coloring?”
Maggie nodded decisively, “Yes. And if you’re good maybe we’ll try fingerpainting in a few days.”
Lucy snickered, “Hamilton has to clear her first.”
Maggie smacked a coloring book into Lucy’s hands, “Shut up and color, Lane.”
It wouldn’t last forever, but it would last until the painkillers kicked in. And maybe Lucy and Alex would fall asleep to the dulcet tones of hell reclaiming its own, and maybe they may have found themselves with googly eyes stuck to their closed eyelids. There was a chance that photographic proof may have been sent to the Space Fam, and possibly posted to Maggie’s Instagram.
But for now, Alex was happily asleep with a coloring book held loose in her hands, Lucy’s head was pillowed in Maggie’s lap, and she could finally watch a healthy queer relationship where nobody dies and her girlfriends can’t talk through all the good parts.
🌸To steal a shirt/hoodie from their caregiver (it smells like you so it makes us feel safe)
🌸To make their caregiver proud
🌸All. Of. The. Attention.