hanging cups

Finding Shiro in S3 be like
  • Keith: [searching through a crowd] We're never going to find him.
  • Lance: Hang on. [cups hands around mouth, shouts] KEITH ISN'T FIT TO LEAD VOLTRON!
  • Shiro: [barrels through the crowd] WhAT tHE FUCK dID yOu jUsT SAy, YOU LITTLE SHIT
  • Lance: Found him.

I vow to love you at 2 in the morning, when your cheek is pressed against the bathroom floor after numerous shots of vodka.

I vow to love you at 10 in the morning, when you’re sitting on the couch with a duvet wrapped around you, nursing ‘the worst hang over ever’ and you’re grateful for the cup of coffee I hand you.

I vow to love you at 4 in the afternoon, when you try to kiss me with your frosting covered mouth because there isn’t a day that passes where you don’t eat cake at 4 in the afternoon.

I vow to love you at 9 in the evening, when we’re a tangle of limbs on the pull out couch and you’re trying to keep your eyes open because they hadn’t quite gotten to your favourite part of the movie yet.

I vow to love you at 3 in the morning, when you’re covered in sweat and your hair is plastered to your neck and forehead because you’d been having nightmares again. I vow to love you especially then.

I vow to love you at 6 in the morning, when you’d just fallen asleep and the morning sun will turn your hair into a light shade of brown and your face will look so peaceful, untwisted with emotion.

But most especially, I vow to love you at all hours of the day and night. I vow to love you even with greying hair and wrinkles. I vow to love you even when you make horrible, dirty jokes all the time. I vow to love you, for as long as I still walk the earth. Even if I’m bedridden, or if i’m rocking a wheelchair. I vow to love you even when your demons become too strong. I vow to love you then. Especially then.

—  Z / An Excerpt from A Book I’ll Never Write #13 Vows

Taking a break-ish for as long as I feel it’s needed.

I feel like I cannot participate as much as I would like to around here, I am simply scared of joining in.
I am always terrified I will say something wrong and offend someone.
There’s so many overreactions in this community, well, everywhere online, and real life too if we have to really get into a longer conversation, sigh, but it would make getting to the point be an endless journey.
And I’m afraid I would simply stop believing, and forget to hold on to that feeling.
I’m a person who’s always careful over careful before I write a comment to anyone’s post, even my own shit I post, on MY blog, I delete 20 times before posting, cause I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, misspell someones name, or forget the color of a sims hair.
I weigh every word a thousand times, rephrase my sentences and calculate what could go wrong, to the point of me re-writing most sentences at least twice before posting.
And still it will get me in trouble.
I do everything by the book, make sure I leave absolutely no trace of anything that could remotely offend anyone, yet I end up having stepped on someones toes?
Which brings me to the point, that it seems to me, that I can no longer be the bad guy then?
Or perhaps I offend simply by breathing?

The internet is like this: If you want to get offended, you will.
You will be able to find something wrong in every single word another person posts. You will feel attacked. Humiliated and hurt.
Based on absolutely nothing.

I have this theory, that I shouldn’t apologize, unless I did something wrong.
Now, I know there’s nothing offensive in anything I write, cause I’m scared shitless to write anything that could get misunderstood.
I always over analyze everything I say or do, to the point of things just not even mattering any longer, before I get to say or write what I wanted.
I am not a person who’s afraid to apologize when I know I did something wrong.
I am in fact a person who apologizes way more than I should.
But I have gotten to a point where I am beyond done, when it comes to apologizing for things I know I never did.
There’s no longer any fun for me, when it comes to leaving comments on anyone’s posts any longer.
Since I always write too little, too much, or point fingers at people I never pointed fingers at.

I know I haven’t done anything wrong, yet I am the person, who today has a hard time getting out of bed, constantly replaying in my head, if what I wrote yesterday, how I expressed my opinion in a calm and polite manner, if that was in fact a wrong doing on my behalf?
Or if the fact simply is, that a few people seemed to feel  they got stepped on, when I didn’t even stretch to move my feet half enough to even be near enough to their feet, to step on them.
It’s funny how a term like ‘some people’, or ‘few people’ can turn into EVERYONE?
I mean, the spelling isn’t even similar?
I’m not a person who says something, and then leaves a lot of hidden codes behind my words for everyone to decipher.
I say what I mean.
I’m a quite honest person.
So when I use terms as ‘some’ or ‘few’, I quite literally mean some or few… it’s not a code for EVERYONE.
Furthermore, when I express that what I write is my point of view, it means, that this is how I personally see thing. It does not mean that this is the reality, and I am calling the author or any of the other people commenting out.
It simply means, my point of view, the way I see it.
From my perspective.

Bottom line is, I am tired.
I am tired of re-writing myself, I’m tired of not daring to leave a comment on something when I feel like I have something to say.
Whether it’s something of value, or simply to show my engagement.
And above that, I’m tired of getting so nervous of doing something wrong, that I don’t even dare to be myself on my own blog.
Cause what if I said or did something someone would misunderstand.
It would quite sure be the end of the world, right? Not my world, but the one I offended.

It’s easier to just stop commenting, I think.
It spares me trying to wrap my head around all the billion people in the world, trying to figure how not to offend a single one of them.

I have social anxiety, no, not the charming kind that are so popular on social media these days.
The real, terrifying one, the one that makes me be locked away in my home for months, because humans are too scary to be around.
No not cute scary.
Hyperventilating till I turn blue in my face, scary.
Trying to make any form of comment on anyone’s post is a HUGE thing for me.
Getting told I should probably be more careful with my words in the future, when I am already so over careful that I can no longer breath, is like, telling a broken plate to stop being broken.
It’s pointless.
Or telling a scared kitten to just stop hissing.
It’s always the kitten who has to stop, not the person who drove the kitten into a corner.
(And I throw in another edit here: the person who told me to be more careful didn’t say it in a harmful way, we had a long quite fulfilling conversation about it, where she agreed I did nothing wrong, but that does not mean the whole matter disappears from my mind)

However, I will take the advice and be more careful, in the sense that I will be more careful sharing any of my thoughts.
In the sense that I will take not one but ten steps back, and once again evaluate, if this community has a place for me or not.
I must say, on days like this, I feel as if I have stepped into a kindergarten.

If everybody was half as careful as me before they say or post anything, the internet would be a very quiet place.
What a bliss.

Friendly Advice

This is for my Drabble Game and is written for a lovely anon.

Prompts: “Trust me, I’m dying inside. You just can’t tell.” and “Tell me a secret. Your deepest darkest secret.”


Imagine Bilbo trying to get you to admit your feelings for Fili.

The writing in your journal seemed to blur together as you wrote and you lifted your head. The sky was dimming, the horizon a faded pink and the sun a melting orange against the pale sky. You did not know why you still wrote. Perhaps the habit of it kept your thoughts from dwelling on what you could not change.

“[Y/N],” A soft voice broke your trance and you looked over to Bilbo as he stood to your side, “Are you alright?”

“Perfect,” You lied as you snapped your journal shut, “Just writing.”

Keep reading

Kid sister is now trying to figure out the basics of what she needs for her first apartment other than furniture… Having done apartment life for a long time before I got the house she came to me for help. Here’s what I came up with. See if you fine folks can think of anything I’ve forgotten.

  • An all-purpose cleaner like 409.
  • dish soap
  • A SHOWER CURTAIN (I’ve forgotten that one before!) with a liner and rings to hang it.
  • dishes, silverware, cups
  • a silverware drawer organizer
  • measuring cups and spoons
  • a spatula
  • a can opener
  • a tupperware type product
  • curtains (not sure if there are blinds)
  • sheets and other bedding
  • at least one good skillet and two sauce pans
  • a casserole dish/cake pan
  • a cookie sheet
  • a toilet brush 
  • a plunger (better have that one on hand before you NEED it!)
  • extra pillows and blankets for couch-bound guests
  • some kind of air freshener or scented candles and a lighter
  • lamps
  • light bulbs
  • broom
  • mop
  • vacuum
  • any kind of washable rags or kitchen towels
  • scrubby sponges
  • a closet organizer or shoe rack to make the most use of closet space
  • magic erasers
  • an old toothbrush to clean nooks and crannies
  • a SERIOUS first aid kit
  • bottle opener and corkscrew
  • kitchen trash can and bags to fit it.
  • a sewing kit
  • at least one passable table cloth
  • any and every kind of tape you can think of
  • Batteries…. And then MORE batteries.
  • a flashlight
  • a doormat to minimize what you track in
  • a bath mat
  • super glue
  • more ponytail holders than you think you will EVER need
  • a SOLID bookshelf
  • an extension cord or two
  • a power strip or two
  • a post office packet to ensure the mail is forwarded to you
  • Scissors… MORE THAN ONE PAIR
  • laundry hamper/basket and detergent
  • a hammer, small nails, and screwdrivers in both flat and phillips… (because you WILL have to assemble shit)
  • Bug spray (better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it on hand!)
  • ALL SIZES of ziploc bags
  • a waterproof file box of some kind for important papers
  • a cutting board
  • at least one good sharp kitchen knife
  • an iron and ironing board
  • a bucket
  • tissues
  • a dustpan
  • at least one wall clock
  • bath towels

I left off things like a TV and microwave intentionally because I know she does have those, and shower/soap/hygiene products because she’s got that covered as well. That’s where I left off… Anything you folks want to add?

anonymous asked:

mckirk academy era w/ both of them somehow burying themselves in work and spend less time together cos of that and one of them realising and trying to change that maybe?

  • Bones finds Jim at his desk in his dorm room. Party animal as he may be, at the same time, Jim’s a walking book with legs. Always studying. Very little sleep. No surprise then, that he’s buried himself in books for his exams. Papers are everywhere, scattered over his desk, too. “You study too hard,” Bones says, and Jim huffs. “You’re one to talk, I didn’t see you for weeks when your medical exams were due.” “But as your doctor, you should know, you need to sleep,” Bones counters, ignoring Jim’s earlier counterargument, because Jim’s right. When it comes to exams, Bones is hellbent on passing everything the first time, too. He’s already an established doctor, damn it, there’s a certain pressure on him to perform better than the other students in his class. “As my friend, you need to help me with Xenobiology 101,” Jim comments. “Why are you even taking that class?” “I need to know the basics of alien anatomy, dude,” Jim says, smiling lightly as Bones walks over, “what if I ever need to rescue some? Gotta know how they live.” Though, his interest quickly shifts when Bones’ hands rest on his shoulders. “I can tell you what I know,” Bones says, and Jim groans when those steady hands gently massage his shoulders, “but you gotta relax a little. Way too tense.” “Fine,” Jim says, leaning back a little and relaxing under Bones’ hands while he listens to the other talk. Just briefly, of course, because as soon as his shoulders and neck relax, he passes out into a good night’s sleep.
  • Jim visits Bones to tell him he passed his classes, but Bones is fast asleep when Jim arrives. On bed, books and papers around him, and Jim smiles fondly. He’s not the only one with exams, and Bones is evidently just as exhausted. So instead he just leaves the other be, and goes to celebrate in a club.
  • They try to meet up more, really. Bones contacts Jim, but then Jim is going away on a 3 week Piloting course to neighbouring planets. And when he returns, Bones is on an expedition himself. They see each other briefly when the new semester starts; they hang out with a cup of coffee, and discuss their books and school work more than they actually discuss anything else. Bones sleeps over one night because he’s too tired to walk back to his dorm, and Jim gets another massage out of that, but that’s really most of their interaction. Jim knew that the academy would be busy, but he never knew it would be this busy. They study together in the library a few times, but then they don’t actually talk much. Still, Jim finds out how comforting it is just to be in Bones’ presence, even if they don’t say much.
  • “What are you doing here?” Bones asks Jim when he shows up in the medical wing. “I signed up to be your experiment,” Jim replies. “Experiment?” Bones asks, “oh you mean for my upcoming medical project?” “Yes.” “But you’re not sick,” Bones counters, and to that, Jim looks a little lost. “I just want to hang out with you, man,” Jim says. “Me too,” Bones admits, leaning against the bio bed, “it’s been a while.” “Too long,” Jim says, and Bones nods in agreement. “How about after these upcoming midterms?” Bones suggests, and Jim nods. “Fine.”
  • But they don’t. Because life gets in the way. Jim visits his mother in Iowa for two weeks while she’s back on earth, and when he’s back, Joanna is at the Academy to spend time with her father. It’s understandable, and because of that, Jim keeps a distance from him, despite really wanting to be with him. They text almost constantly during that time off they have. To the point where Jim stares actively at his phone until the screen lights up and he reads those new messages. Imagine the disappointment when finding out one of those messages is actually Uhura reminding him their group essay on ancient alien cultures is due.
  • Jim’s roommate moves out. Graduated, off to a flying start (literally) to some uncharted part of space for the next 2 years or so. Jim’s not gonna lie; he’s a little jealous. The thought of becoming a captain is still heavy on his mind, and he’s set on getting there quicker than most students have. But that means his room is just more quiet than usual. The first night it’s great because he thinks he can just bring home a lover for the night and it doesn’t matter because his roommate is not going to be bothered by it. But once he’s out in the pub to hit on someone, he finds himself very uninterested in actually getting anyone. Fuck this whole college thing, seriously. It’s turning him into a sleep deprived, sex deprived, generally deprived person.
  • “Hey, stranger,” Bones says, and at least that catches Jim off guard. “Bones,” he says, “what are you doing here?” “Same thing as you,” Bones says, raising his beer, “unwind a little. Been too long since we had a good night out.” “We? I didn’t even know you were here,” Jim counters, “but since you are here; let’s do shots.” “Oh, no,” Bones laughs, “I’m way too old for that.”  
  • Four shots and at least a couple pints later, Bones and Jim stumble into Jim’s room together, and Jim’s pretty sure their lips haven’t lost contact all the way since the bar. How they made it home in one piece is beyond him. Bones’ hands sneak under his t-shirt, and Jim helps him get rid of that. “Move in with me,” Jim says, and Bones stops his actions. “What?” “My roommate just left, I have some space available. Just move in to the bed next to me.” “Is this really the time to discuss that?” Bones asks, and he may have a point there. Jim feels almost instantly just slightly embarrassed, but Bones throws him a smile and sits down on Jim’s bed. “Is that what you want?” Bones asks. “Seriously? Yes, of course. I want to spend more time with you. I’m hardly seeing you these days,” Jim says. Bones just leans in, pushing Jim backwards until his back hits the mattress, and he leans over him for more kisses.
  • Jim feels almost completely relaxed. Almost. Bones lies next to him, and somehow that feels just so right. And so Jim turns to face him, that little bit of pressure still on his shoulders needing release, too. “So,” he says, “was that a yes?” “Huh?” “Moving in with me,” Jim says. “Of course,” Bones replies, casually running a hand over Jim’s back, “you’re right. We don’t spend enough time together.” Jim agrees with a soft hum, reaching out to run his hand through Bones’ hair. “And the sex?” “The sex is a nice bonus,” Bones replies with a grin. That’s something Jim can agree to, and though they decide there and then to be casual about it, both of them know there’s gonna be nothing casual about the two of them sharing rooms.
  • likes to cuddle a lot
    • no this is not funny or cute or considerate he will drape himself over u like ur an actual body pillow and he will not move for hours. you’d better have your phone charged. bitty learned the hard way
    • altho it’s a fun time for the other stoners like one day you’ll come into the haus and jack, shitty, lardo and maybe nursey’s in a cuddle pile on the disgusting couch
  • laughs at EVERYTHING (like any other stoned person but it’s just weird seeing jack not being a hockey robot)
    • he once started laughing at the concept of a hockey puck. why is a puck like that (“like what, jack?”) like…. that
  • asks concerning questions “what if the ice in faber broke” “what” “like, what if you got checked so hard u broke through the ice and there’s water underneath and u go for a nice lil swim” “Jack the ice is stable enough to hold a bunch of huge jocks–” “I’m gonna break it tomorrow and see what happens. bitty do you think there’s fish in there” “JACK NO" 
    • "BITTLE why do u make so many pies” “…because I’m a baker? I love baking???” “but that’s… there’s so many pies. how do you do it” “i bake them. with ingredients. Jack are you okay” “THERES SO MANY PIES BITTLE” “jack please get off of me my phones dead and i need to charge it i beg u" “ARE YOU A PIE WIZARD”
  •  he gets intensely focused on the smallest of things. again, bitty learned this the hard way when, not only is he pinned down and bring spooned by a giant hockey man, the giant hockey man decides to count every single freckle on his face. or almost pokes your eyes out trying to measure your super long eyelashes with a ruler. what the fuck, jack
  • gives and requests affection. he once called his dad asking if he loves Jack. "of course I do, Jack. why do you ask” “aw that’s good I love you too papa i give u a lot of shit but ur the best dad ever sorry for pooping in the stanley cup” “what–” “*hangs up*”

For @dadrunkwriting​. Pairing: Solavellan (semi-NSFW)

The first time she danced for him, they were alone. And he was unprepared, and drunk on wine and regrets, and he leaned back - sprawled, really - in the chair in front of the fire in her quarters. Yarn mountained around in baskets of all sizes. The brown fur of the rug was warm under his toes. Something - a knitting needle, he ventured to guess - dug into his hip, but he didn’t dare move.

He couldn’t move because he did not want to distract her. Because he knew, instinctively, that moving would pull her to him, like a hunter circling close to shifting prey.

And he couldn’t have her drawn to him. He couldn’t watch her slink up to him on her hands and knees, have her climb up his lap, feel her pressing her hands up his thighs. He couldn’t watch her toss her head; if she looked up at him, if her eyes met his… if she did that, he would lunge… 

He fought just such an urge now as she pressed her ass, sultry, snake-like, up and back until she was upright, her knees spread far apart, her feet touching in a point, her toes curling and overlapping one another. She pressed her hips forward, then she dropped them to one side, and pulled them back: swivel, circle, thrust, while her hands played over her thighs. They bunched in her shirt to tease glimpses of her stomach. They pushed meaningfully over the rise of her breasts; she explored her curves, undulating, her body always in motion: becoming motion. He closed his mouth. She moved however she wished, taking only occasional queues from the music drifting up from the training yard. Solas heard his heart drumming with the intoxicating rhythm of her body: circling, dizzying, slow - sensual.

It was not the first time he had seen Pangara dance. So he had known she had musicality, power; she’d spoken of the traditions of dance in her clan. Shown him some of what had survived. 

But this… this confidence. Intimacy. It was the first time he had seen her dance like this.

Her eyes were closed. She hadn’t looked at him since she had first uncurled on the pelt, dragging her slow touch. She didn’t seem to care whether he stayed or went. He clenched the rim of his cup, hanging empty from the tips of his fingers. His throat felt dry. He cast his mind back furiously, his brow hot, his other fist clenched on his knee, trying to think. But nothing that he could bring to mind had taken place to prompt this. To prompt this.

Just the music, swaying melancholy in the night - a few faint notes curling up with the draft.

She gathered her short hair in her hands and twisted her fingers. Thrusting up, she tugged her head back to expose her neck. Her shirt pulled up as she raised her arms, teasing the pale line of her belly in the firelight again.

When he remembered to breath again it was a loud, desperate gulp for air, embarrassing only because she noticed. Her lip twitched in just the barest acknowledgement. He swallowed. Then he lost sight of her face as she extended her arm overhead and dipped back, back… back - her hips thrust forward, her soft stomach fully exposed. He hungrily, guiltily traced the length of her arched body with his eyes, poetry comparing her to the arc of the moon, to the hanging willow bough, dying on his tongue as he lost all ability to speak. The cup trembled in his grasp.

Arms reaching, she slid onto the back of her head, feet arching to lift her from the ground and then somehow she was backflipping over one shoulder, fluid. She hunched over her knees. She extended her legs up, out, over, like a fan, or the beat of a butterfly’s wings. Her eyes were still closed, her face peaceful, and he felt his own mounting arousal pressing in his breeches. But he would not interrupt her for the world, for any world.

He could hear it when she breathed in. Her breathes punctuated her form - when twisting, her exhale was loud, when stretching, she breathed in. It felt like she took all the air in the room into her body. He felt himself bulging, felt the restraint of the fabric of his breeches. He tried to steady his breath, tried to close his eyes - but he couldn’t look away from her. His breath came quick, shallow. He realized he almost felt like crying, but the moment he became aware of this his heart iced over and he clenched the fist resting on his knee.

Still, she danced - and he fell in love with everything she was without him. He loved the firmament she traced with her body; the solid weight of her limbs and the atmosphere she set on fire with her breath: in, out - the whole room breathing with her. The night breathing and moving in the slow, hypnotizing ways she moved. She made the fire her echo. She made herself into something older, stranger, more wild than any god.

He watched her dance on her knees, and when she told him to come he did, and he knelt to touch her lips.

Later, when he would take her hand in Val Royeaux, he would put his fingers on her chin. He would shield her moment of self-doubt from the rest of the party (she would not want them to see her cry). 

He would say to her, low and intense, “I have faith in you.”

And she would not know what he really meant. She would not be able to hear his words like a confession, would not remember this conversion, would not see the yearning, hot like worship, in his eyes.

Instead, she would look at the rift in her hand and say, bitterly, “But I don’t.”

But he would remember this, and he would know it was a lie.

Love songs - Jamie Benn

Requested by anon: Hi! I don’t know if you take this kind of requests but could you an imagine of Jamie Benn + ‘Shape of you’ by Ed Sheeran (whatever it inspires you). If you don’t feel comfortable it’s ok, keep up the good work

A/N: Hello! First of all, I’m sorry it took so long, I’ve been busy and I haven’t had time to write as many imagines as I’d like. I’m a huge Ed Sheeran fan and I was so excited about writing this imagine out… it didn’t turn out the way I expected it, but I hope you still like it. Thanks for requesting it!

Word count: 1217

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol. Fluff.

Master list

Originally posted by mattyymarts

Jamie pops open the bottle of red wine we have been saving for this occasion.

“Can’t believe we are opening it, to be honest.” He confesses and I look at him, almost offended.

“Why do you say that?” I wonder, sitting on the couch watching him.

We got the bottle in France during our trip around Europe last summer; Jamie had been crushed after Playoffs and we decided to fly away and get our heads off of it for a while. Our last stop was Paris and as a present I had bought him a bottle of wine for when he won his first Stanley Cup.

“I just never thought my name would be on the Stanley Cup.” He answers, looking at the big trophy sitting on our coffee table.

The Stars’ season has been rocky to say the least. Making it to Playoffs seemed like a wild dream at the beginning of March, but somehow they made it. Playoffs were a new start, and they went out there to win the Cup… and they did. Against all the odds and expectations, they won the Cup.

The last days have been absolutely insane, going from celebration to celebration, party after party, interview after interview. Tonight is the first night we have for ourselves… and the Cup, because the captain was the first one to get to hang up with the Cup.

“Well… I’ve always thought that your name will be there, among the best players on history.” He seems pleased with my words, because he leans in and kisses me.

“It’s a good thing that my girlfriend believes I could move the Moon if I wanted to.” He laughs and I slap his thigh.

Jamie turns around to grab the glasses for the wine, but his eyes get stuck on the Stanley Cup. I read up his mind before he can command his body to move.

“Don’t do it, Jamie. Do not do it.” I articulate and he grins, before pouring half of the bottle on the Stanley Cup.

“Champions drink from the Cup, baby.” He grabs it from the bottom and lifts it up, bringing it to his lips and drinking straight from it… and pouring half of the red liquid down his shirt.

“You are an idiot.” I mutter, getting on my feet and pouring myself a glass of wine.

He lays the trophy on the table and wraps his arms around my waist, his stained chest against my back. I roll my eyes and take a sip of wine.

“I hope you have time to take your shirt and my dress to the dry cleaner tomorrow.” I say when he rests his head on my shoulder.

“I have all the time of the world, my love.” He mutters, making me smile.

“This is nice, you know…” He gives me a confused look and I elaborate for him, “I’m just so proud of you.”

“Dance with me.” He whispers and I raise an eyebrow.

Jamie was known for being an incredible hockey player, but he couldn’t dance to save his life. Tyler is still teasing Jamie about the Stars Insider episode where they had a ‘Dancing with the Stars’ contest. Jamie came up last.

“C’mon, don’t look at me like that.” He complains and I chuckle, turning around in his arms and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Alright, let’s dance.” I whisper and he smiles big before kissing me.

Jamie knows how much I love music, so he had installed a sound system around the house for my birthday. We controlled it with our phones and we could play music around the house, from the bathroom to the backyard.

“What should we dance to?” he wonders and I laugh.

“Surprise me, Champion.” I challenge him and he pulls out his phone from his back pocket.

“I think I got it.” He says, showing me the screen. It is a playlist named ‘(y/n)’.

“You have a playlist with my name on it?” I ask stupidly, “of course he does, he is showing it to you, dummy” I scowl myself, but I don’t mouth a word.

“I’ve spent so much time on the road, sometimes I need something that reminds me of what I have at home.” He explains and I nod.

He hits play and ‘T-shirt’ by Thomas Rhett comes up. I laugh about it, letting him spin me around and pretty much being fools and having fun. Jamie grabs the bottle of wine from the table, taking a sip from it and handed it to me to do the same.

“Alright, alright…” I say, still laughing about Jamie’s moves, “what’s next?”

He pulls out his phone and hitting next. ‘Shape of you’ by Ed Sheeran starts playing and I snort.

“Are all the songs on the playlist about my body and sex and having me naked?” I ask him and he gives me an offended look.

“That’s what you think about me, sweetheart?” He answers me with another question.

“Then explain it to me, because that’s what it seems.” I reply and he shakes his head, pulling me closer to him.

“Alright… well, ‘T-shirt’ reminds me of all those times when we were going out and you would stay over. I always thought that you wearing my clothes was the only way I had to ‘claim’ you as mine” he air quotes claim and I nod, encouraging him to continue, “so I’d let you take them home and never get them back.”

“Okay… Mr. I-am-deeper-than-I-let-everyone-see.” He chuckles at his new title, “what about ‘shape of you’?”

“Have you ever listened it?” He asks and I nod, “that song is the soundtrack of the beginning of our relationship.  The way we met at that bar, I was with the guys after than big win against the Blues and you were there with your friends. The moment I saw you I knew I wanted you. We danced and the guys were chirping so much about how bad I was, but you shushed them and encourage me to keep going.”

Now, take my hand stop

Put Van the Man on the jukebox

And then we start to dance.

I look down, biting my lower lip to stop myself from crying. I knew Jamie loved me, but I didn’t know how much he treasures our memories together.

“And then you agreed to go on a date with me and everything went so wrong and we ended up in that diner waiting for a cab because my car broke down, and you ordered the biggest burger they had and I just thought ‘wow, I was born to be with this girl’. We talked about everything and nothing and then you agreed to come home with me and I just couldn’t believe that a goddess like you wanted to spend time with me…”

We talk for hours and hours

About the sweet and the sour

And how your family’s doing ok

“I want to spend all my time with you, Jamie.” I cut him off and he smiles, running his finger down my cheek and catching the happy tears falling from my eyes.

“And I want to you feel like every love song talks about us.”

Every day discovering something brand new

I’m in love with the shape of you.

Three things that your SCM God will do in the afterglow (Punishments)

From the ‘12 Sweet Nothings at Your Bedside’, the 3 top things that your beloved god will do in the afterglow are……

♎ Zyglavis

☛ Wondering why you are sweating like crazy when you have the peaks of orgasm LOL

☛ Complaining about Ichthys

☛ Making you a matching ponytail

♏ Scorpio:

☛ Stroking your hair

☛ Blushing like hell all the time (he is super adorable at that time)

☛ Letting you sleep in his arms

♉ Krioff (well~this one is a little different~):

☛ Collapsed into his sofa bed since he was so drunk

☛ Felt so hot and got shirtless in front of you (he’s damn hot!  ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄)

☛ Making love to you in the morning light   

♊ Dui:

☛ Following you (naked of course) and observing you every moment

☛ Feeding you water by mouth

☛ Kissing you passionately and hugging you tight until you fall asleep

♍ Partheno (this one is different too!):

☛ Admiring your lingeries hanging in your room

☛ Cupping your breasts in his hands

☛ Flirting with you

♓ Ichthys:

☛ Admiring your underwear

☛ Hoping to see you in sth with no holds barred sexy, asking to go to a lingerie store with you next time

☛ Doesn’t allow you to put on your underwear


anonymous asked:

3 word prompt - beckett, allergic, cats

#289 (set during Beckett’s suspension summer)


He was really excited about something. She didn’t know what; he seemed to love surprises disproportionately more than she liked being surprised. 

Which was not at all. Which was why she was so hesitant about showing up to his place after his day-long squirming-in-place excitement. But this morning he had stood in line for those fist-sized muffins that were all the rage in the city, and then he had come to her place with those and the gourmet coffee, and they’d been interrupted when she’d tried to thank him…

So Beckett scraped a hand through her hair and thumped on his front door.

She could do this. They could do this. A surprise. Game face.

“Beckett.” He opened with a wide grin even as his mother descended the stairs in her satin robe and sleep mask pushed up. 

Martha lifted a fluttering hand to her throat. “Darling, Katherine, next time? please do try not to sound like the police are pounding down our door.”

She winced. “Sorry, force a habit, Martha. I apologize-”

But his mother was already waving her hand and ascending the stairs once more. “Rehearsal in the morning. Have a good night, darlings.” But she did stop at the top and turn around, pointing a finger at Castle. “If that thing keeps me up-”

“Mother, hush.”

Beckett turned to Castle. “What’s-”

“Nothing, come on. In here. I’ll show you.”

“You’ll show me… nothing?”

“Alexis got a pet,” he squealed. No, surely he wasn’t really squealing. Except he was actually, he had squealed, his shoulders hunched up and his face alight with glee and she wasn’t sure how in the world she’d fallen in love with this man.

This man who squealed.

He was tugging her by the hand towards the office, his fingers thick and warm and strong-

Oh, that was part of it. Why she was in love with him. Though she hadn’t known then what she knew now about how wonderfully strong and thick those fingers were.

“Come here, look, look,” he said, and pulled her right over to the black leather couch.

Upon which a single ball of orange fur rested.

“Is that-”

Castle scooped it up and in one movement held the mewling, squirming thing right up to her face. “An adorable sweet kitten. Look at her. Isn’t she so-”

Kate sneezed.

Hard, loud. Jerking backwards with it. 

She stumbled over an armchair and had to clutch at the back to keep her balance. “Castle.” 

He looked astonished. Cat hanging in his cupped hands, about to spill out. “Kate?”

He stepped forward and she jerked back. “No, hang on, wait.”

Castle stopped suddenly. Cute malevolent ball of fur.

“I’m allergic,” she said. Held up a hand. “Highly. Don’t…”

“Oh.” His face fell. “I thought… I offered to keep her while Alexis is in Africa.”

“Africa?” she gasped. “When did Africa happen, Castle?”

“Uh, like, no, I swear, just today. Today. I think Alexis wanted to…” He trailed off and his face went slack. “Oh.”

“Oh, she bought you a kitten to butter you up for Africa.”

He winced. “She bought me a kitten to butter me up for Africa. Wow. I did not even see it. I was so…”

“Blinded by a ratty orange mewling-”

“Hey, now. It’s cute.”

“It’s a ginger,” she said flatly.

He narrowed his eyes. “As are my mother and daughter.”

“And an ex-wife.”

“Are we having a fight?” he hissed.

“Over a nasty cat?” she hissed back. “No. Just. I can’t be here while that’s here.”

“Wow, that’s really-”

“I’m allergic, Castle. My eyes swell. Everything itches. I can’t stop sneezing. And then, if I stick around long enough, my throat closes up and-”

“Okay, yeah, done. I’ll send the cat with mother to the theatre tomorrow. She’ll find a home for it. Uh… in the meantime-”

“In the meantime, I’m going to my place before I get any on me-”

He smirked.

She narrowed her eyes, continued. “And if you take a long hot shower and scrub really good, I’ll let you come.” She paused long enough for him to get the message. “To my place.”

Beckett turned on her heel and strode back out of his office.

She would be putting a moratorium on surprises.


Reality is Better

Prompt: Emma Swan keeps having erotic dreams about her roommate Killian Jones. But what happens when one night he overhears her calling out his name in her sleep?

CS Roommate AU, M rated (nothing but smutty, smut smut), 3600+ words, unbeta’d (sorry for any mistakes).

It was the third time in a month that it had happened.

Emma wasn’t exactly certain how it had started, innocently though she’s sure.  Maybe it was the day she had caught her roommate exercising in the living room (“It’s raining, Swan, and I don’t want to go to the gym. Please just give me one hour”), with his clothes tight and muscles bulging, beads of sweat rolling down his body from exertion and she wanted nothing more than to lick them off, to run her tongue all over his gorgeous body.

It could possibly be the nights (most nights unfortunately) that she knew he brought another woman home; long sleepless nights with his headboard rhythmically thumbing against her wall and obscene muffled moans filtering throughout their shared apartment, leaving her alone with nothing but her hand to relieve the building pressure inside.

Or perhaps all of her lust filled thoughts of Killian began the day he had moved in three months ago, the way he looked when he picked up a box and moved it with ease, the way he had introduced himself with all of his innuendo laced words (“I know this is an two bedroom apartment, love, but I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed every now and then”), sultry wink included.

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uhhh the AU where Lucy joins Sabertooth?

Idk y’all I know not a damn soul follows me because of Fairy Tail but like, it’s ending and I’m a fucking mess of emotions so please just hang with me for a bit and then I’ll get back to stuff people actually want.

Anyway, let’s assume Sabertooth had been around when Lucy was looking for a guild to join and she picked them instead of Fairy Tail, shall we? Here’s a little snippet of that scenario wherein Lucy, Sting, Yukino, and Rogue come across some members of Fairy Tail and maybe possibly pick a fight with Natsu

Tell me what you think I guess? Again I know none of you signed up for this so sorry just let me get it out of my system

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Marry Me

Author: Mikala
Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 1,700
Warnings: None. It’s all fluff. 
Author’s Note: This is very loosely inspired by the song Marry Me by Train. It’s super cute. AU-ish. (My first attempt at anything along those lines, to be honest; so feedback is great!) First half isn’t in the reader’s POV, but the second half switches to it. Hope y’all like it! 

“Well, boys. I guess I’ll be on my way now.” Peggy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she said goodbye to the two men sitting across from her. Steve immediately stood up, offering a hand to her.

“I’ll call you later, sweetheart,” he told her, pulling her to her feet. She blushed a little when he kissed her, smiling sweetly up at him after he pulled away. Bucky sighed melodramatically from his seat, pouting for a moment as the couple glanced over at him with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Bucky moped, putting on a fake scowl. “I was just thinking about how my two best friends got together and always insist on me being a third wheel. And then grossly make out in front of me,” he finished, his face splitting into a wide grin. Steve and Peggy shared a laugh, and Peggy stepped around the table, leaning down to hug Bucky around the shoulders.

“You’re the one who asked us to hang out today, you big dork!” She ruffled his hair as she stood back up straight, moving back to hug Steve. “Goodbye, boys!”

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