gold star for trying

Just a quick health catchup- I’m doing much better now, but do keep having dizzy spells and generally odd brain hijinks. Still waiting on the date for seeing a specialist but the friendly folks of the NHS are on the case and I am doing what I can to keep TPatJ and TPoH moving. I might have trouble updating next week as I’m visiting my sister but hopefully I will make some actual drawings for you guys eventually rather than just reblogging 24/7 :’D

PSA

friendly reminder that bones exists and is actually the glue that holds the crew together  (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

anonymous asked:

hi, i don't know if someone else suggested this one already, but what do you think of janeway/tom paris?

THANK YOU for asking <3 Janeway/Paris was my introduction to Voyager fandom!! They were my OTP and I frequented ‘Jupiter’s Station’ the web archive dedicated to J/P. I wrote incredibly earnest terrible fic:

And made hilariously bad photoedits such as: 

GET IT???? (In my defense, this was 20 years ago and I was a small.) 

But the reasons I shipped them then remain true today, and no one will ever be able to convince me that they don’t have a special and specific connection. 

First of all, they have a past. Maybe they didn’t know each other prior to Voyager (though I’ve written more than one scene where they met and forgot, as well as AUs where they did), but they led parallel lives. Both have reasons to be envious of the other because of their relationships to Owen. And both have reasons to care about each other because of it. 

Second, they have complimentary personalities. They both push boundaries, and flirt wildly, and care way too much about appearances, and want to live up to the idea of who they should be, and think they can’t. They read each other easily. Almost like siblings, definitely like family. Because of their shared background they have their own vocabulary, both verbal and nonverbal. And there is a clear and present mutual attraction. 

Finally, she saved him and he is going to spend his whole life trying to save her back. “I guess I’m yours,” he says, in that first scene, in that first episode, and it’s true from then on. And she gets it. She accepts him. 

Send me a ship and I’ll give you my (brutally) honest opinion on it

Star Child

Characters: Shinsou Hitoshi, female reader

Word Count: 1585

Summary: Nothing is the same after his quirk manifests and others began to realize what he’s able to do. With no guarantee that they won’t be next, the people he once called friends turn a blind eye to his calls as he’s left in the dark only to watch as others laugh and play. After receiving a gold star sticker for his perfect score on a spelling test, another student takes note to the shine in his eyes and decides to do something about it. An odd friendship is born from their unusual first encounter as the now aged Shinsou recalls a specially fond memory.

A/N: This piece is heavily inspired by @calmeremerald and @keiid art! It was far too good for me to resist writing a little something. I can’t wait for when this tired child becomes a hero ;A; And I’m still waiting for Aizawa to train him gdi

Keep reading

Power of Mabel Week Day 1: I Trust You

(or, in this case, I Didn’t Trust You)

okay so I’m kinda gonna ramble here so let’s just dive right in- for the first day of the Power of Mabel week the theme is trust, and I decided to go with Mabel’s lack of trust she put in her brother during NWHS. but instead of making it an angst fest, I decided that Dipper would be okay with the fact that Mabel chose to trust Stan’s word over his, because her choice led to the Pines family being reunited with Ford!! what really needed to happen tho was a heart-to-heart sibling talk about this, because I feel that Dipper would be a little upset that Mabel chose to trust Stan over her brother, but in the end since everything worked out for the better Dipper would be happy that Mabel didn’t listen to him!

Lust at First Sight

Slight AU in which everything is the same except when Alex and Maggie meet, Alex is a Seasoned Gay and Maggie is single.


They argue about jurisdiction, but the tarmac isn’t where the debate ends.

Because she’s dealt with local cops before. All part of the job.

But this woman?

This… Maggie Sawyer, NCPD Science Division. With her showed you mine bullshit and her irritating head tilt and the way she saw things Alex didn’t, knew things Alex didn’t think she should know…

This woman got under her skin.

And she wanted so much more.

And when she shows up at that warehouse in the arts district? Alone, no backup? Not even a flashlight?

Just a slow rise from that crouch – that crouch that Alex has seen twice now, and wants to… well… she can think of other ways to get this woman to bend down – confident and calm, collected and cool, like an entire DEO strike team isn’t stamping down the stairwell with guns that would melt her inner organs?

Just a smirk and a witty retort about feds and firepower and god she remembers her name – of course she remembers her name, because, as she’s also reminding her, she’s a detective.

And she detects.

And when Alex radios Winn that they missed him, that he could be anywhere, she starts to walk away.

She starts to walk away because she wants this woman – badly – but right now, the president’s life is on the line. 

Right now, she has a job to do.

But right now, this woman, this detective, this… this force… is following her, with that low voice and that confident gait, and she’s updating her on what she’s found, and Alex is pretending not to hang on her every word, but damn this woman is smart and damn this woman is brave.

Smart, because she might dismiss it as just detecting, just doing her job, but Alex needed Winn’s genius to find this place. And she was still slower in getting there than this Maggie Sawyer woman.

And Alex had stormed in with an entire strike team, with armor and a rocket launcher on her shoulder.

This woman had strolled in with a glock in her waistband and bravado in her step, and that’s… that’s it.

So Alex isn’t surprised when Maggie doesn’t back down when Alex stops abruptly, when she turns and she stares down at Maggie and she backs her slightly into a wall.

“What do you want, Sawyer? For me to admit you got the drop on me, that you found this place before me? What, do you want a medal?”

“We don’t all do our jobs for gold stars, Danvers. Maybe I’m just trying to keep people safe, same as you. Maybe it’s nice to get the chance to work with someone whose eyes don’t glaze over when I mention heat vision and Infernians for a change. You trying to tell me that’s a crime? That the warehouse is out of my jurisdiction, too?”

Maggie’s eyes drop to Alex’s lips, and when they travel back up her face to lock into hers, Alex knows.

Knows that she’s not the only one who feels it. 

This… thing. Between them.

“This whole city is my jurisdiction, Sawyer,” she says, her voice meant for the bedroom, her voice dripping with the things she wants to do to this arrogant, brilliant, beautiful, bold cop.

“We might have to disagree about that, Danvers,” Maggie arches an eyebrow, her eyes now entirely on Alex’s lips, on the shrinking space between them.

“We might,” Alex whispers, and they move their moves to crash into each other at the same time, and god, god, god, is it like breathing for the first time.

She tastes like black coffee and she tastes like motorcycle exhaust, and she tastes absolutely perfect.

“This how you fight all your jurisdiction battles, Danvers?” Maggie breathes as Alex’s lips case out her neck.

“Only the ones with gorgeous women,” Alex chuckles from the back of her throat, and when Maggie takes her lips with hers again, it’s with tongue and it’s with teeth and it’s with everything perfect and everything needed and everything released.

Alex grabs her wrists as Maggie tries to run her fingers up her shirt. 

“Sorry – “ Maggie starts, but Alex shakes her head sharply.

“Good?” she asks, gaze flitting between Maggie’s and the way Alex’s hands have caught her wrists. Maggie’s eyes fly wide for a moment when she catches her meaning, catches her question. She covers her surprise, her hope, her excitement, with a cocky smirk.

“Still my jurisdiction, Danvers,” she taunts, and Alex hisses as she pins Maggie’s hands above her head, relishing the way her head tilts back, the way her hips roll forward, the way her entire body reacts when Alex slips her thigh between Maggie’s legs.

“Yeah? Your jurisdiction?” Alex taunts right back, and Maggie’s nostrils flare, but her eyes beg Alex not to stop. And she doesn’t.

She pushes Maggie’s hands against the wall gently but with purpose, gingerly but with a clear command – stay – and she traces her hands down Maggie’s body to her breasts, shoving aside her jacket and filling her palms, moaning softly when she feels Maggie’s nipples responding to her touch.

“Like that, Sawyer?” she asks, already knowing the answering, already reading the answer pouring off Maggie’s body in waves.

She teases her nipples between her thumbs and her index fingers, all through her shirt and desperate to find out what kind of bra she’s wearing, what her breasts feel like with no barrier between them at all – and she braces her body up with the steadiness of her thigh between her legs, letting Maggie grind down on her as hard as she wants.

And god, does she seem to want it hard.

Alex crashes her lips back down onto Maggie’s before licking down her jawline, to her neck.

“Danvers,” Maggie brings her hands down from above her head to try to touch Alex.

But it’s Alex’s jurisdiction, dammit.

So she grabs her wrists again, stopping her again. Maggie gives a quick nod – so subtle, so quick, Alex would have missed it if she didn’t care to look for it – and Alex correctly reads it as her permission to continue.

She spins Maggie around, so she’s facing away from her. Facing the cool, solid wall. Maggie writhes and just barely restrains herself from whining in pleasure, in desperation.

“So you like it rough, Detective?” Alex growls just behind Maggie’s ear as she presses her up against the wall of the now-abandoned warehouse, Alex pinning one of Maggie’s arms behind her back.

Maggie struggles and Alex loosens her grip immediately, but Maggie turns her face enough to catch her eyes. Enough to tell her that she’d better not stop.

“I like it when you don’t talk, Danvers,” she rasps, and Alex chuckles.

The sound shoots straight through Maggie’s body, infects her blood and makes her wonder, only briefly, what a genuine laugh would sound like coming from this woman’s lips.

“Mm, see, I think you’re lying,” Alex tells her, grinding her hips into Maggie’s ass, snaking one hand down her jeans, one hand around her body and up her shirt to tease at her nipple again, pausing only long enough for Maggie to nod once, to nod desperate, to nod sharp.

“Do you? You have some fancy polygraph you’re taking readings from?” Maggie retorts from the back of her throat, and Alex nudges Maggie’s hair away from the side of her neck with her nose and bites down softly with her teeth.

Maggie hisses and arches back into her, and Alex hums a question. Maggie nods again, once, sharp, and Alex sinks her teeth deeper, harder. Rougher.

“Don’t need a polygraph to tell you like it when I order you to cum all over my hand, Sawyer.”

A moan escapes Maggie’s lips, then, and she lets her head roll back onto Alex’s shoulder. 

But only for a moment does she allow that intimacy.

“I don’t take orders from feds, Danvers.”

Alex works her hand harder over Maggie’s clit, licks at her earlobe, and revels in the way her body is putty in her grasp.

“Good thing I’m not a fed, then. Cum all over me, Detective. I want to feel you unravel for me. Now. That’s an order.”

Maggie’s bites her lip, but it doesn’t help.

A hiss of air, a throaty moan, a string of curses spills out of her lips as her body racks, as her body tenses, as her body convulses, as her body stills. As her body unravels for Alex Danvers. Right on command.

Alex bites her own lips.

To keep from calling her beautiful.

To keep from telling her she’s got her.

To keep from turning her face gently, kissing her tenderly, guiding her down from ecstasy and into her heaven.

She bites her lips, and instead, her arms do all the talking for her.

Holding Maggie steady and holding her safe.

“Fuck…” Maggie pants as she comes down from her orgasm, and Alex pulls away slightly, bringing her hands back to herself and licking her fingers clean, a smug smirk on her face. 

Maggie turns to watch her, and Alex thinks she sees a hint of something more than sex in the way her pupils dilate. But only for a moment. Because then it’s gone. Then the shutters are back up, as she watches Alex teasingly relish the taste of Maggie’s orgasm on her own hand.

“Fuck you,” Maggie breathes, and Alex’s grin just broadens.

“That’ll be next time, Detective, won’t it?” she winks, and she strides off without further explanation, without further hope.

Or at least, that’s what she tries to portray.

Nothing to hope for but lust, but kisses stolen, but touches taken, but orgasms given.

Because she can’t have time in her life for anything more than that.

Can’t have space in her heart for anything more than that.

And yet.

And yet.

And yet when Maggie calls her to ask if she wants to see how local cops get their information – and Alex is infuriated, frankly, that this woman somehow found her number, and she doesn’t want to think about how that only makes her more curious, how curiosity only makes her more… interested – Alex makes sure to take her Ducati.

Because she looks damn good on her bike, and she looks damn good in this jacket, and she will focus everything on how she looks and nothing on how she feels, because this woman is amazing to kiss and this woman is amazing to fuck.

And hell, this woman may even be amazing to work with, but she… no. No, no, no, no.

She can’t be touching Alex’s wrist, hand, gently with her own when Alex reaches into her waistband for her gun.

She can’t be looking at her with soft eyes, she can’t be telling her about growing up a brown queer kid in small town Nebraska.

She can’t be talking about relating to aliens, to outsiders, because then the thing that’s started to burn inside Alex might be real.

It might be… feelings.

Feelings, beyond sex.

Feelings, beyond warehouse trysts and alleyway fantasies.

She’s grateful when she gets even the slightest bit of intel.

Because she needs to get away from this woman. Away from this bar that feels like it could be the place where her life changes.

Fast.

But then the president is speaking, and then the Infernian is attacking, and then… 

And then Maggie is gone.

And Alex… Alex cares more than she should.

She cares more than she would if Maggie just felt like some fling, like some hot case to crack, like some jurisdictional kink to resolve.

She cares to the point where her heart wavers, and she cares to the point where she literally walks into fire for her.

Because it’s her job, she tells herself.

Rescuing people.

It’s her job.

Maybe.

But it’s not her job – doctor or not – to chase all the other DEO medics away from Maggie’s beaten body. It’s not her job to check her over with quite that much tenderness, and it’s not her job to want to press her lips to the gauze she puts over her burn.

It’s not her job to want to squeal with giddy joy when Maggie tells her she usually doesn’t do well with partners, but they make a really great team.

It’s not her job, and it’s not her sex drive, either.

So when she tells her she should get some rest, that she can stay at the DEO if she wants, Maggie pauses, and her heart leaps, but then it sinks right back down again.

“No, I can’t.”

“What, you got a hot date or something?” Alex asks, like they didn’t fuck each other hours before.

Maggie’s breath hitches. 

“No. No, of course I – no, I just… don’t wanna impinge on your jurisdiction, Danvers.”

She tugs her jacket on and Alex barely resists the impulse to help ease it over her shoulders.

“We could share,” she offers, and Maggie tilts her head and squints, a lopsided grin starting to form. 

“Jurisdiction, I mean. I mean… what I really mean is… Stay. Maggie. We… we’ve done this whole thing backwards. Our first fight and then our first…” She glances around. “You know.”

“Oh, is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”

“Sawyer. Stay. Let me take care of you.”

“So you can get laid later?”

“No! I mean… no. Like I said. Backwards. Stay. We can backtrack. Get to know each other. Keep each other company.” She gestures at her shoulder. “I can help you heal. I’m not just an alien hunting fed, you know, I’m also a doctor.”

Maggie chuckles and leans back down onto the medical bed. “Yeah, I noticed. Anything you can’t do, Danvers?”

“I’m not good at relationships. But I can try. If you wanted.”

Maggie blinks and purses her lips and stares, hard. Like she’s calculating.

Alex waits, because god, she knows what those calculations are like.

“You’re on, Danvers. So you gonna show me around your spy lab, or what?”

“Happy to.”

anonymous asked:

I've been able to see aura my entire life, and I sometimes see flashes of tails/ears/wings or sometimes bodies that just don't line up on people. I just found out about otherkin. Is that what I've been seeing?

It almost certainly is! I have a friend who can see auras and she can see people’s astral/phantom limbs, too :)

Really sorry for my lack of activity! My head started hurting six weeks ago and hasn’t entirely stopped since so I haven’t been on computers much…

anonymous asked:

Would you ever date a guy?

honestly who knows. i’m at the point in my life where labeling myself is exhausting. trying to keep up with being a “gold star” lesbian and fitting into the box that gay culture puts lesbians into is exhausting. the judgement is exhausting. i love girls don’t get me wrong. and when i see myself getting married it’s to a woman. but i’m done labeling myself.