how do you even look good wearing a hot dog suit

RANDOM SENTENCE STARTERS

Following my AUs and Prompts List from a few months back, here is a compilation of my favorite sentence starters for all your writing needs.

Because most of them aren’t mine, credits are at the end.

SHORT

“Marry me.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“You are not going without me.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“I swear it won’t happen again.”

“What did you say?”

“I’m not jealous.”

"You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Are you sure this is legal?”

“Isn’t this amazing?”

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Stay the night. Please.”

“You can’t die. Please don’t die.”

“Run away with me.”

“You did WHAT?”

“Quit whining.”

“Get outta my sight!”

“Why are you so annoying?”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

"Never in a million years.”

“Don’t ask me that…”

“I might have had a few shots.”

“What’s with the box?”

“W- What are you doing?”

“Say it!”

“I could kiss you right now!”

“Are you done with that?”

“What’s going on here?”

“Stop pinning this on me! You started it!”

“It’s your fault we’re in this mess.”

“Did you do this on purpose?!”

“Kiss me.”

“Are you still awake..?”

“Excuse you?”

“This is all your fault!”

“I can’t believe you dragged me into this.”

“Don’t give me that look! It wasn’t my fault!”

“I shouldn’t be in love with you!”

“It’s not fair!”

“I could kill you right now!”

“Knock it off!”

“Screw you!”

“You’re a complete moron!”

“I love this song!”

“I can’t be in love with you!”

“Make me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I hate you.”

“You are infuriating!”

“Just shut up already.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Bite me.”

“Eat me.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Just admit I’m right.”

“Just admit you’re wrong.”

“You are being ridiculous!”

“That’s irrational.”

“Listen to me!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Don’t yell at me.”

“That’s it. End of discussion.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You shouldn’t have said that.”

“Fuck you!”

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

“How dare you?”

“I dare you!” 

“It’s you, it’s always been you.” 

“Well this is awkward…”

“Just pretend to be my date”.  

MISCELLANEOUS

“Are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

“The planet is fine. The people are fucked.”

“I just did some calculations, and I’ve been able to determine that you’re full of shit.”

“You know what I like most about people? Pets.”

“Do you ever think if people heard our conversations they’d lock us up?”

“What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I’ll apologize.”

“I don’t hate you.. I just don’t like that you exist.”

“Love is the jelly to sunshine’s peanut butter. And if I tell you that I’m in sandwich with you, I’m not just saying it to get in your Ziploc bag.”

“Do things that make you happy within the confines of the legal system.”

“Did you really just insult Captain America in front of me?”

“Can I touch your boob?”

“It’s not that you’re wrong, exactly, you’re just extremely not right.”

“You shouldn’t be trusted with small children, should you?”

“Give me cake or give me death.”

“On a scale from, ’I can sometimes make important phone calls without crying’ to ’I have a stable job with a steady income, a spouse who loves me, a dog, and two kids who are screwed up minimally at worst’, how much of an adult are you?”

“You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that stupid move?”

“Despite the cliche, it’s not me, it’s you.”

“Obviously you can’t tell a woman you just met that you love her, but it sucks that you can’t.”

“No, it was my fault for thinking that you might care.”

“When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then!”

“If you’re not scared, then you’re not taking a chance. If you’re not taking a chance, then what the hell are we doing anyway?”

“I think I’ve been holding myself back from falling in love with you all over again.”

“What have I told you about the toilet seat?”

“I tried to change the duvet and I got stuck inside.”

“I vote today to be a pajama day.”

“You have to tell me why were committing a felony before we do it. Not that that’s going to stop us, but at least I’ll have all the facts.”

“I don’t leave messages. If I wanted to talk to a machine, I’d talk to my VCR.”

“I can be flexible. As long as everything is exactly the way I want it, I’m totally flexible.”

“You know we’re suppose to be together. I knew it the first time I saw you, and you know it, too. I know you do.”

“Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?”

“I’m not going to apologise for this. Not anymore.”

“What I hear when I’m being yelled at is people caring loudly at me.”

“I am NOT crying, okay?! I’m allergic to jerks!”

“This would not happen if I had a penis!”

“That’s almost exactly the opposite of what I meant.”

“All nighter, you and me. First one to fall sleep buys the other dinner.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever played spin the bottle.”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to touch your butt.”

“I’m ok, thank you. Just please, stop talking to me.”

“To the night you’ll never remember!”

“Excuse me, did the 12:15 bus come by already?”

“Could I sit here? All the other tables are full.”

“Are you meeting someone here? Because.. I think I’m that person.”

“You weren’t supposed to laugh! I’m so embarrassed!”

“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his/her cake hole.”

“I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.”

“You better take care of that car or I swear I’ll haunt your ass!”

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.“

“It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.”

“I could do that, but could doesn’t mean would.”

“You cannot fathom the immensity of the fucks I don’t give.”

“You’re like, five feet tall. How you gonna reach me, shortie?”

"I recognize that you have reached a decision, but given that it is a stupid ass decision I have elected to ignore it”

“Do you need me to kill someone for you?”

“Look out where you’re going, asshole!”

“Fuck the sandwich guy!”

“I did not mean for stripping to come out of this.”

“The whole street is blocked off. The police won’t tell us anything, but I think there’s been some kind of attack… Maybe a bomb?”

“Oh my god, are you okay? I’m calling the police. I think I saw who did this to you.”

“I’m weird, you’re weird, we could have weird little babies and live weirdly ever after if it wasn’t for the fact I find you repulsive.”

“There is nothing wrong with planning a wedding with a video game character.”

“I’m gonna lay down and die for like half hour okay?”  

“There’s been some real friction in our friend group lately. I suggest an orgy to save our friendships.”

“It’s midnight, what do you want?”

“I think I know how to use a bed.”

“If I wake up in the morning and I’m dead… Wait.”

“You are completely unfit to handle a child.”

“We have to get out of this place. It is EVIL.”

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

“When in doubt curl into the fetal position and give up on life.”

“It’s not a double date, we’re just third and forth wheeling.”

PREGNANCY

“I have something to tell you…”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant!”

“When were you going to tell me that you’re pregnant?”

“You’re smart and successful with an adorable belly.”

“$50 bucks says it’s a girl/boy.”

“Pregnancy suits you…”

“Hello little one. We can’t wait to meet you…”

“I’ll just be in the bathroom throwing my fucking guts up because our unborn kid wants to be a dick!”

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet…”

“Shh… He/she’s sleeping..”

“I have a special surprise for you. Close your eyes and follow me.”

“No, no, no, no, no, we aren’t ready… We aren’t ready for kids yet!”

“Oh, gosh, I felt it! I felt a kick!”

FLUFF

“Your hair is so soft…”

“You’re so cute when you pout like that!”

“Just relax, I’ll wash your hair for you.”

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

“What, does that feel good?”

“HA! I found a weak-spot on you, didn’t I?”

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

“You are ridiculously comfortable…”

“I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with…”

“You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this…”

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“We should get a puppy!”

STARGAZING

“Aren’t they beautiful?”

“These stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes.”

“Shooting star, make a wish.”

“It’s actually a comet, but I’ll still make one.”

“Imagine if it could always be this way, even in the city.”

“Never thought something so beautiful could exist in nature…”

“Wouldn’t it be cool to name a star after yourself?”

“Y'know, your roof may not be the safest place for us to stargaze.”

“This is why you made me drive three hours out into the middle of nowhere?”

“Is that a– Wait, no, just an airplane.”

“I wouldn’t mind falling asleep out here.

FLIRTY/SUGGESTIVE/SEXUAL

“Did you just… finish?”

“They always make shower sex sound so appealing, but honestly, this is getting dangerous.”

“I’m not actually feeling anything.”

“Are you getting any closer?”

“Why do they make this look so easy in all those porn movies?! This hurts like fuck!”

“Did something just happen? You’re not turned on anymore.”

“Shit sorry, am I going too fast?”

“Wow, you’re hot.”

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“Hey, I’m open minded.”

“Keep sweet-talking and this could go a whole new direction.”

“I think it’s about time we stop avoiding the obvious.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m really horny, and you’re really hot. Can we fuck? Like, now?”

“I see someone’s happy to see me.”

“I saw that. You just checked me out.”

“You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex.”

“Take off your clothes.”

“Tell all those other guys/girls you don’t need them ‘cause you got me.”

“Don’t give me that face, it’s so cute I might not be able to hold back.”

“Boobs are really just squishy pillows.”

“If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed somethings wrong with you.”

“Blasphemy! Sex solves everything.”

“I platonically want to have sex with you. No big deal.”

TEXTS

[text]: What do you want now?

[text]: Do you want to bet on that?

[text]: Guess who just got back in town.

[text]: So I might be in a hospital right now…

[text]: We can’t keep doing this anymore!

[text]: Come on, come to the party!

[text]: Can you pick me up from the bar? Too drunk to drive.

[text]: You have no clue how I feel so shut up.

[text]: I call bullshit.

[text]: You thought you could get away with that, didn’t you?

[text] I gave up great shower sex to be here so don’t say I never did anything for our friendship.

[text] Living alone for four weeks has given me unrealistic expectations of pantslessness.

[text] Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.

[text] Who says no to sex and donuts?!

[text] I know what you did last summer…

Sources: x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

i really want to talk about marge simpson in longer detail because i’ve gone on and on about how she’s an underappreciated character compared to homer, because he gets all the “wacky” bits and marge is often the one reacting to that - as such it is in a lot of comedies, where the guy, or guys, are all the ones getting the jokes while the women are sort of only given “here we go again!” - but i think the simpsons writers knew how to keep her character, and the characters not really suited for wacky stuff in general, great lines, great bits, great comedy

so here’s me talking about marge simpson and the “straight” character in comedy (again, not to be confused with the heterosexual character)

a lot of making these kind of characters work is not just in knowing the rules and execution of comedy, but in pushing to still give them lines and pieces and bits even if they’re not the ones best suited to quicker, easier comedy. i want to pull out an example from season 8, usually cited as the last “great” season of simpsons - specifically episode 9, “El Viaje Misterioso de Nuestro Jomer”. the one with johnny cash. they go to the chili festival, and while everyone probably remembers the “homer humiliates ned’s pathetic 5 alarm chili” bit, there’s a very quick, very good bit with marge at the beginning that uses her character and great voice execution to make a joke pop.

this is a really quick bit with marge, but i love it to bits. the fact that she’s stunned that there could be as much as EIGHT spices out there, playing on her often built up plainness, and then not only the confusion (even anger!) over the existence of a spice called oregano, but the way she says it - “orr-ehh-gone-oh”. followed up with that immediate “what the hell?”, which has marge so frustrated that she even swears, a rarity for her, and has a furious expression on her face. it’s a really good joke, if you ask me! it’s quickly passed over for all the other shit that happens in the episode, but oh, it’s good. those kind of tight, small jokes take a surprising amount of work to pull off, but it’s great.

since homer is better fit to things like devouring peppers so hot that they send him into a hallucination where he talks to a coyote voiced by johnny cash, if someone wants to make characters like marge funny, they have to keep their humor flexible, and they have to keep pushing to give her bits no matter how easy it’d be to just toss another physical gag homer’s way. how can they make plainness funny? a simple way that’s obvious once you think of it is taking that plainness to a comical level - such as marge does, with being confused and irritated over oregano.

Keep reading

Roommates: Part 2

Summary: Reader is a ghost that lives in Tom Holland apartment and Tom doesn’t believe in ghosts. Or does he? Take two of playing with an Ouija board, tom gets some answers and tries to bring home a girl.

Warning: some sexual content, swearing, death, spooky shit, dont play with ouija boards 

Words: 2.5k

Originally posted by tom-holla

Keep reading

Christine Sydelko Sentence Starters

I’ve been bingeing Christine’s vines and vlogs, and everything she says is perfect for crack-tastic hijinks. 

  • “Don’t ask questions, just drive!”
  • “Too bad you can’t hot glue gun your marriage back together!”
  • What happens if I put hot dogs in the garbage disposal?”
  • “One time when I was twelve I made my sim woo-hoo with a ghost and my mom walked in and saw, and she took my computer away for a month.”
  • “And so I say onto you, Adam and Eve are my OTP, and the only thing I vape is the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
  • “Oh god why did I do this, why did I do this, why did I do this?!”
  • “I hate it when guys only offer five goats and ten chickens for my hand in marriage. Hello! Clearly I’m worth five goats, twelve chickens, and a rabbit pelt.”
  • “The macarena was an inside job!”
  • “Yeah, I–I bet he’s got a penis.”
  • “Eyy girl, so when we gonna churn butter and chill?”
  • “Hi, welcome to to bible study!”
  • “Hi, Horror Club is doing a human centipede on the quad tomorrow. BYSK, bring your own sewing kit.”
  • “I’m like, it’s not my fault you got lice.”
  • “This is why dad left you.”
  • “I’m wearing a jean dress and I feel good!”
  • “Oh my god, my mom was right! Peer pressure is real!”
  • “It says here that you wish to have your ashes brewed in a Keurig?”
  •  “Celine Dion put a curse on my family and now our crops won’t grow.”
  • “What’s better than this, guys being dudes?”
  • “His favorite fruit is a mango, but will she be ready to tango?”
  • “Kumbaya my lord!”
  • “Drive, bitch! To the…pussy store.”
  • “My mom says I can’t play with you anymore.”
  • “It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s the good kush!”
  • “He was a dolphin in a whale suit!”
  • “If you don’t call your boyfriend papi, is he really your boyfriend?”
  • “Yeah, uh, tip of the penis to you too, ____ !”
  • “Yeah, I know where that is. You’re going to the left, to the right, take it back now y’all, two hops this time, and then cha-cha real smooth.”
  • “Money over love!”
  • “It’s like, yeah, like, I do skin cats for fun, but I’m not a psychopath. Don’t label me, you know?”
  • “Oh, I was just making sure you weren’t two kids trying to sneak into an R-rated movie.”
  • “Run, it’s almost midnight! I turn into a fuckboy!”
  • “You think this is a game? This is fucking science! I don’t play that shit!”
  • “Ew girl! What the fuck are you doing burping in my mouth and shit?!”
  • “ ___ get your credit card. Hurry up, get your fucking credit card!”
  • “It says you wish to be mummified in fruit roll-ups?”
  • “LMAO, he just gave her the D!”
  • “Do they have a snapchat geo-tag?”
  • “I want ____ to rip out my large intestine and use it as a jump rope.”
  • “I’d like to thank all three of you for coming. Now, she wasn’t very pretty, and she wasn’t very smart…”
  • “I believe in equality. I believe your dick is equal to the size of a tic tac, how about that?”
  • “My dick is stuck in a Pringles can.”
  • “I just saw your google search history and I think we need to talk. Now, what are ‘sexy minions’?”
  • “Oh girl, you’re going to get with the penis real soon!”
  • “Only get on your knees for two things: beer bongs and blow jobs.”
  • “I think I swallowed a nickel.”
  • Nice scrapbook, or should I say CRAPbook?”
  • “Tom and Jerry were lovers! The government is lying to us!”
  • “Well looks like this body…is a dead one.”
  • “So ____ starts choking me and saying ‘Bitch, you bought the wrong lunchables!’“
  • “The rain is just God’s tears. He’s crying because we’re sinners.”
  • “Give me my tupperware, ___ !”
  • “ ___, the flower crown you got me is too big! I can’t show my face at Coachella like this!”
  • “No one cuts off my banjo solo!”
  • “You stayed up all night playing the sims again, didn’t you?”
  • “Heeeeeey, Mister Big Cock!”
  • “Do I need this? No. Do I want it? Also no.”
  • “If you spit in my mouth I will murder your family.”
  • “I only twerk on Priuses. Eco-friendly!”
  • “I am shooketh.”
  • “Why does the lady at Taco Bell know my name?”
  • “They’re bueno.”
  • “Can you tell me why I stole a pool ball from that bar?”
  • “I’m not even on my period!”
Infatuation - Part 6

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 (M) PART 9  PART 10 PART 11

Summary: You are now a Pre-K teacher and you meet Jaebum, a single dad.  

Genre: Romance, teacher, crime, murder, single dad

Warnings: smut in later chapters, swearing

Definition of Pre-K: teacher for children at the age of 4

Part 6:

The car ride was silent, and as Jaebum drove to Jackson’s place to pick up Jaehwan, all you could think about was HOW? 

How was it possible? How did Ashley have a kid? So she had the kid and then enrolled in university? You have known her for 3 years, and you guys never kept secrets from each other. You told her everything and she told you everything… so you thought. You guys used to go on midnight snack runs to the nearest convenience store of your dorm, she stayed up late with you to study, and she even helped you pass statistics. She was your best friend. Now, she is part of god knows what… mafia? Who knows anymore. Someone just threatened to kill you, your neck hurts like hell, Jaebum KILLED your attacker, and Yugyeom risked his life for you. 

Keep reading

Something More

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could do a SiriusXReader where they wake up on saturday after having sex (she wears his shirt before he wakes up and they’re best friends) and they’re not in love yet and none of the Marauders goes to Hogsmeade but Reader and Sirius spend the day together (nobody knows) and they fall in love for each other when they’re swimming in the lake? (Don’t put the sex, please!) Thank you and I love your imagines!!! + sorry if is too specific 😂

It just last a few minutes, the satisfying smiles on their faces as they were both lying on the bed, the sheets tangled mess beneath them and their clothes strewn around the room carelessly. As Y/N’s pantings started to slow down, changing into steady breaths, she didn’t dare to glance at Sirius. It happened too fast, from the moment they stepped in her dormitory just for he wanted to escort her up, and maybe talk, but then they sat down on her bed and he was close, and she looked so good in her new dress and they haven’t thinking. But they were best friends since the first year, and now it was awkward.

“Listen, I, uh…” – Sirius started, after Y/N stared the ceiling for long minutes. His voice was uncertain, but she knew what he was thinking about. He just didn’t know how he should say it; it was different with other girls, saying he only wanted them for a night, but Y/N was his best friend.

“Don’t worry, I’m not in love with you.” – She cut him off; suddenly she didn’t feel herself so embarrassed. – “I mean, it was definitely really… really good, but…”

Sirius let out a deep breath. “Good. I was afraid I have to ask you out now or something.”

She raised an eyebrow, elbowing next to Sirius. “You say it like if that would be the worst thing.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean…” – He started, suddenly aware of how bad it sounded what he just said, but she just laughed.

“It’s fine, I knew what you meant.” – She rested her head on his chest while he wrapped his arm around her waist. – “Do you think we can do this again… maybe? I mean, if it’s okay to you…” – And she felt herself embarrassed again, but she had to ask, because it was so amazing with him.

And he agreed. They set one rule: they will do this in secret, because both of them now how their friends would react. James and Remus would kill Sirius and would be sure he will hurt Y/N’s feelings, Lily would try to talk her out every time she would see them near to each other… no, they want to have fun. And they had, indeed.

The awkwardness disappeared after the first time, and there were only pleasure and fun. There were no responsibilities or deeper feelings; it was just all easy and natural – maybe a bit too natural, but between them things was never difficult. They were best friends for a reason, after all.

It was an early Saturday morning when Y/N woke up, finding her dormitory was already empty. She tried to stretch her limbs, but Sirius body was pressed to hers too tightly, and when he sensed she was awake, he only pulled her closer, burying his face in her soft, sweet-smelling hair. She lightly shook her head and giggled silently; of course it was nice to not just having sex but snuggled up to each other too, but Sirius was so needy for it sometimes it was amusing. She waited until he fell asleep again; until his breaths were slow and steady before she crawled out from the bed, taking on Sirius’ shirt.

It was a day of a Hogsmeade trip, Y/N remembered, and she wanted to go – but not alone. Since her roommates already left, and probably most of her friends too, she decided to stay there, picking up a book and sitting back down next to Sirius. She was reading for at least half an hour when the boy finally woke up, slowly opening his eyes before he snapped his head up, staring her with a cocked eyebrow.

“What?” – She asked, not understanding the smug smile on his face.

“Nothing, just never seen you in my shirt before. Suits you well, though.”

She bit her lip and smiled before put the book down on the nightstand. “I thought you prefer me without it.”

“Now that you mention it…” – She giggled when he pushed her down on the sheets, tracing wet kisses on her neck, but stopped suddenly, pulling back. – “Why aren’t you in Hogsmeade?”

She sat up, leaning back against the headboard. “Well, I wanted to, but my friends already left and I don’t want to go alone.”

“That’s not very nice of them.” – He said, furrowing his eyebrows before stood up and started to dress up. – “Leaving you there…”

“Can’t blame them, though.” – She shrugged. – “They probably just tried to escape as soon as they could… Sometimes you snore like a drunken dog.” – He stopped buttoning his shirt and looked down at her with narrowed eyes, but with a hint of smirk at the corner of his lips. – “Didn’t you wanted to go?” – She asked before Sirius could have added something.

“Remus is still too weak after the full moon, Peter babysit, and James has a date with Lily.” – He explained, taking on his jeans. – “We can go together if you want to.”

And she said yes; it was the middle of May and the weather was warm and too nice for just sitting inside the chilly and almost completely empty castle. Sirius waited for her while she was getting ready; she take on a nice, thin shirt with a new, short skirt, making Sirius froze for a second when he saw her, then that so familiar grin appeared on his face. “Pretty.” – He complimented, but she knew his thoughts weren’t so solid.

It was late morning when they finally stepped out, into really a hot day and Y/N was glad she decided to wear just light and short clothes. They spent long hours at the village, wandering around the crowded shops, buying quills and books and delicious sweets. Only when they had left nothing to buy, they went to the Three Broomsticks for a few butterbeers, talking for another few hours. Several of Y/N’s friends waved at her when they passed them, almost nervously with narrowed eyes, but none of them joined to their table. After the third girl, Sirius looked at Y/N with a confused face, thinking at she had no idea either of the others’ odd behaviour, but she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“They probably think we’re on a date.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then smirked. “Well, that’s your fault.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” – She folded her arms, but laughed.

“Because there are just the two of us, and you know… usually, you’re not dressing like this.”

She rolled her eyes. “Because usually, we have to wear uniforms, you dolt.”

He raised his palms defensively. “Hey, it’s not me who think we’re on a date.”

Y/N’s heart leapt with a feeling that she couldn’t quite understand, but waved it off, not really bothering to thinking it about twice.

People started to fill the pub since everyone finished their shopping – the whole place was crowded. They decided to go out and finish their last butterbeer on the way back to the castle; it was still hot and sunny, there wasn’t even a single cloud on the sky. They were walking at the edge of the Black Lake, Y/N tried to recover from an almost exhausting laugh after Sirius’ joke. Her hands on her aching stomach, inhaling and exhaling deeply while he looked down at her, grinning.

“We should go and swim.” – He didn’t even wait for her answer, he started to unbuttoning his shirt instantly, walking closer to the lake. Y/N followed, but stopped in front of him. – “What? Do you afraid the giant squid will see your tits?” – He grinned, and Y/N let out a chuckle, too.

“No, you idiot. There are people there!” – She pointed her finger at the distance – in a far distance. There were some people indeed, but so far away from that side of the lake they’d probably only saw shapes.

Sirius growled and rolled his eyes, unbuckling his belt now and take off his pants too. “Are you coming or not?” – He looked back before he disappeared in the water. – “It’s warm!” – He shouted, his head poking out, and Y/N sighed one last time before she slipped out from her clothes and dropped them off to the ground.

She tried to found him, but he disappeared from her eyes; before suddenly, she felt two hands on her legs and something between her thighs – she screamed as Sirius raised her up and came above the water. He laughed and she was sitting on her shoulders. – “That wasn’t funny, you scared me to death!” – She said a bit angrily, hitting his head. In the next moment she found herself in the lake, as he dropped her off. She swam on the surface quickly, and as Sirius currently closed his eyes as he was laughing, she threw herself on him, pushing him above the water.

She laughed as he started to tickle her under the water, letting him go. They both laughed and took on deep breaths, inches from each other’s face, before Sirius leaned closer and kissed her lips; slowly for a few seconds before he left her and went to swimming around.

But Y/N froze in one place. Because he never kissed her before like this, in public, in circumstances like this; not when he knew it won’t lead into more. Maybe he haven’t even noticed, but she did, and also the feeling that she felt again, same as noticed at the Three Broomsticks earlier, only it was more intense now. She couldn’t remember back when these feelings started, but now when she noticed, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Are you alright?” – She heard Sirius’ voice suddenly. He looked at her concerned, as he probably saw the shock on her face.

She looked into his eyes and cleared her throat, waving the feeling away again. But it wasn’t so easy anymore. “Yeah, I’m fine.” – She smiled, swimming away from him.

And they were swimming and laughing and felt themselves great, and she almost thought everything was fine again, until they stopped again, close to each other. He took out a bit of seaweed from her wet hair, but when their gaze met, he couldn’t look away, and she felt that again; her heart was racing and she wanted to kiss him – nothing more, just kissing, and in the moment she glanced down, he cupped her cheek with one hand, leaned on and pressed his lips against hers. They kissed so many times in the past few months, still, it felt like it was the first time.

His hand didn’t left her face and their lips almost still touched after he broke the kiss, looking into her eyes which was full of a mix of fears and excitement; and she saw the same on his, too. “You… you felt that too?”

She slowly nodded, and they gazing at each other, for so long it started to getting awkward again. Maybe it was from the surprise, as these feelings were so sudden and almost out of nowhere. Y/N left him there, swimming out until her legs found the ground, taking on his clothes. Sirius followed, and though she didn’t walk away, he only saw her back. He reached his hand out after he dressed up, grasping her arm and waist and turning her around to face with him, pulling her closer.

He kissed her again, with the same slow and deep pace, and he had to break it again – now because Y/N was smiling onto the kiss so hard. He chuckled, pressing his forehead against hers. “I think I’m in love with you. Maybe.”

She bit her lip and tried to straighten her face. “Maybe I’m in love with you too.”

Sirius wrapped his arms around her, raising his head up before he looked down at her again. His pupils were so dilated the grey eyes seemed almost black. “Then maybe will you be my girlfriend?” – His voice was low, and almost uncertain, and Y/N had a feeling it was because he was still not completely sure she’d say yes.

But she beamed, and Sirius never seen a smile so beautiful, and never heard a sound of a “Yes” sweeter and more satisfying before.


Masterlist

Between a Lion and a Woodchipper (resubmission, with dialogue!)

Thiru stared down at his drink, his antennae listlessly flicking in the glow of the light in his yurt. He looked out from the doorless threshold of his solid aluminum abode, at the setting sun nestling into the dunes of [Ophii Beta 7], casting the desert sky a milky tangerine.

He looked to his friend seated across from him, and turned his weary eyestalks down to his drink again.

He was tired.

~~~~~

His kind had entered a war with an enemy that they were not prepared for, nor were they in a shape to fight, especially with the Contact War they had fought upon Humanity’s emergence onto the galactic field.

Thinking back on the Contact War, he could only think of how surprised he was at his kind’s loss in that war. He was completely taken aback by not only the origin of humanity, but their cunning, prowess in combat, technology, and most importantly, their seemingly undying resilience. The war only ended after an armistice was forced into signature by the presiding Galactic Union officials, more for his kind’s sake.

His kind and the others in the Union had seen and fought in many wars. But the Contact War was absolutely horrifying. He had authorized and unleashed many an unkind thing upon them. Atrocities were committed by his kind merely to stem their flow. Entire worlds made cinder just to slow them down.

But it only made things worse off for himself and his kind.

And as surprised as he was to say it, he would trade anything to fight humans again, given the situation.

Out of nowhere, the race that called themselves the Thanatari came and began laying waste to the galaxy at large. At first, we thought them merely backwater savages that raided and plundered small-time colonies on the outer edge of Q'iri space. Bit by bit the Thanatari chewed at the edges of their space, until they attacked the Q'iri homeworld and plunged it into ruinous desolation. They worked their way out from there and systematically destroyed the once-proud Q'iri race; They were placed in concentration camps, executed in droves, put in pens and prodded and beaten for amusement, some were even forced to watch their young devoured and sexually assaulted –simultaneously.

Only 12 million Q'iri remain, adrift in the constituent nations of the G.U.

And now they’re here.

Twelve star systems have fallen so far, between our colonies and the other races.

And by all the Divines, now they’re here.

He had an idea of how to stop them, one that he had already set in motion.

But he was not sure if it would work.

~~~~~

“Honorable Thiru, you have stared at your drink for thirty [minutes], is something wrong? Are you alright?”

Thiru was silent for a moment more.

“This war, Friend Kirta… it wears on me as the sands on these stones.”

“It wears on us all, Honorable. We must bear it, for our sake, and the sakes of our homes.”

“Friend Kirta, you are among me in lack of formality. You need not honor me.”

“Call it a habit,” Kirta chittered.

Thiru paused and swirled his drink in his cup, and looked back up to his friend, clacking his chitinous eyestalks together. He flared his antennae in consternation.

“You look at me with intent. What do you wish to say?”

“Would you do whatever was required of you to win a war, Friend Kirta?”

“Of course.”

“Most good.”

“Why do you ask?”

Thiru looked back down to his drink, swirling in his cup, catching the glint of the setting sun.

“Thiru?”

“Can I trust you to do the right thing, always?”

“You’re planning something, I see it in your face. And I do not like it.” Kirta chirped, as he rose from his stool and pointed at Thiru.

“I have no need for your liking. Can I trust you?”

Kirta sat back down in a huff and took a drink. After a pause he answered, “As you ever have, Honorable.”

Just then, a thunderous crack split the air, and rolled into the distance. Their drinks jumped in their glasses, and the single light dangling in the yurt swayed madly.

Sirens began sounding their alarm, as soldiers outside the yurt screamed at each other. A captain called to is men, “To stations!” as he scrambled his forces.

Kirta shot up to full gait and drew his pistol, startled by the disturbance. “What is this? Is this part of your plan?”

“Yes, my friend. You needn’t worry.”

“What are you doing, Thiru?? Answer me!”

Thiru rose his arms in prayer, and muttered, “May the mistress of the After take kindly upon my soul, and mercy upon my heart.” Thiru turned to his friend.

“Pray for me, dearest Kirta.”

He slid his drink to the center of the table, and summoned a comm pad from its surface. He addressed the camp at large.

“All men, this is Honorable Thiru. Stand down. That is an order.”

He turned to his friend and rose from his seat.

“I am winning a war, Friend Kirta. Hopefully, I will buy an alliance. And time.” He turned and walked out of his yurt.

An officer turned to Thiru, his rifle pointed down, and his antennae raised in fearful confusion. “Sir? Why are we standing down?!”

Thiru raised his hand to calm the officer.

Kirta came up behind Thiru.

“You didnt’t.”

“I did,” Thiru replied.

In the distance, a dull gray ship hung tens of [kilometer]s the distance, reminiscent of a knife poised to plunge into the mountains on the horizon.

It was a human destroyer.

Just then, a hulking dropship a good [fifty meters] long and [forty meters] wide swooped down from the sky and began touching down on the pad at the end of the cliff. Small legs folded out from the belly of the ship, and portions of the neck and wings folded outwards, spouting blue-hot flames and slowing its descent. The large hatch under the neck and cockpit of the craft opened and a ramp descended.

“That’s a HUMAN ship, Thiru!”

“It is.”

“Thiru, they’ll KILL you!!”

“I’ve accepted that possibility.”

Thiru began walking down the run to the pad with Kirta dogging after him.

“Kirta, I pass my position and its responsibilities on to you. I led our people during the Contact War, so I bear the blame and responsibility of our actions. I hope to undo the sins our people have committed unto theirs. In return, we may have some chance to stop the Thanatari. We may have some semblance of hope.”

“ Thiru, that’s not how humans work! They’ll gut you for sport! [For fuck’s sake], they attach blades to their cleaning drones! Listen to reason!”

“And just tell them to turn back, as I have changed my mind on the matter? I’m sure they’ll listen.”

Thiru reached the foot of the dropship’s boarding ramp. He looked up at the dropship, the hulk’s lines reminiscent of a giant [predatory bird]. The floodlamps blinded him for a moment after they switched on, and he put a claw up to cover his eyes in compensation.

Thumping footsteps sounded off the ramp as they descended.

Thiru looked up at the looming figure. A human, which already dwarfed his frame, was encased in a slate gray power suit, the domelike visor of his helmet glowing a vibrant blue in the otherwise red setting.

Thiru attempted the best at the human’s tongue.

“Hello!”

The human stared.

“I-I… would like to talk. Speak. Peace. Co-operate. Survive.”

The human cocked her helmet to the side, the glare of the visor receding and showing her scowling face topped off in short dark hair.

“How amusing, the bug can talk ape. Very well then.”

“Let’s talk.”

~~~~~~
End… for now

Here it is again, now with dialogue! By @bartwelchii
Dishes Best Served...

Commissioned by @theanimangaofitall Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy it <3 (also it won’t tag you for some reason???)

Pairing: Nalu

Works count: 2.5K


Lucy glares at the dirty pile of dishes in the sink, unamused with what she sees. Her hands settle on her hips, foot tapping against the wood floors, and she counts several different ways of killing her fiancé with one of the dirty spoons sitting harmlessly on the counter where it shouldn’t be.

She’s been gone for three days, away on assignment for Jason, her boss at the magazine Sorcerer Weekly, to interview the famous Runway model Mirajane Strauss, and she gave him two things to do while she was away. Two very simple things that she prayed he would be able to accomplish: do the dishes and feed their pets.

Judging by the state of her kitchen sink, Lucy can only hope that Happy and Plue aren’t dead.

Now, Lucy loves Natsu, she really does. He means the world to her and she’s able to forgive him for anything short of homicide, with some exceptions, of course. Sometimes, though, he makes her want to kill him with a rusty spoon and bury his body in Gray’s backyard. Illegal, maybe, but Gods does he deserve it sometimes. He’s her best friend and the love of her life, but he’s also a slob and sometimes she regrets ever moving in with him.

Lucy growls under her breath, eye twitching as she stares at the pile of dishes that’s at least twice the size of what it was when she left earlier in the week, a marvel in itself, considering how much she knows Natsu can eat. She doesn’t know how the hell he manages to look like a walking marble statue when he puts away his own body-weight in food every day. That’s hardly an exaggeration either, but fuck, if that’s what gives him his crazy stamina than she can deal with it from now until they’re eighty and gross and sex completely off the table.

Well, she doubts sex will ever be completely off the table, but she’s not going to risk breaking a hip to get some, be it with Natsu or not. She figures she’ll marry at least twice in life. Lucy plans to be happily married to one Natsu Dragneel from spring of next year until the time he unceremoniously dies from doing something stupid, like trying to back flip off moving car, or ski down the staircase. Lucy guesses she’ll be around her mid-thirties at that point, and will marry again by forty to fill the empty void in her heart where Natsu once was, the dumbass.

Though, there’s also a very good chance that he’s about to die at twenty-three for being an absolute fuck-nut and not doing the damn dishes. She asks him to do fix two things, and he makes one of them worse.

Lucy has a feeling she’s going to cry when she sees what the rest of the house looks like.

And maybe she’s just a little bit bitter than Natsu didn’t come to greet her at the door like he usually does, always more than excited to have her back home. It’s been a good five minutes and she hasn’t seen him anywhere yet.

Sure, she’s home a good half-hour earlier than expected, but does that really make a difference? She wanted to surprise him a little, but now she can’t even find him. And she knows he’s home. His motorcycle is in the driveway, and she knows he would rather risk getting her foot shoved up his ass than ride in a car, but that doesn’t explain where he might have gone.

Happy and Plue also aren’t anywhere to be found, which is mildly concerning and Lucy’s fear for their lives spikes for just a moment, though she knows Natsu would never intentionally neglect to take car of them. It’s just odd, really. Plue is always the second one to greet her at the door, jumping on her and giving her kisses, nearly shoving her back out the door with his lap dog mentality, despite being damn near one-hundred pounds. Happy isn’t usually this shy either, coming out whenever he hears the door unlock.

A pout forms on Lucy’s lips, and she slowly spins around, glancing around the otherwise immaculate kitchen. Her eyes narrow in confusion, Lucy not understanding. It’s cleaner than when she left, and it even looks like he dusted above the cabinets, the one place Lucy is too short to reach. That’s peculiar for two reasons. One, she finds it hard to believe that Natsu would go out of his way to dust when he has a mild allergy, but can’t do the dishes, which is something she actually asked him to do. And two, she’s pretty sure neither of them have dusted up there for a good year, considering they both hate doing it, meaning there had to be some kind of dust bunny army up there.

She’ll have to thank him for that, but not until after she chews him out for not doing the goddamn dishes.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

60! :))

I combined the prompt 60. “Oh, do that again.” with @leiascully exercise challenge. 

Set after “My Struggle” most likely; around that time anyway. 

His fist raised to knock, Mulder pauses a moment, realizing he’s never been here before.

Scully’s apartment.

The first time they were partnered, before they were ever anything else, how long did it take him to come to her place? A week, maybe? Two? He can’t remember. The forgetting, he realized early in his treatment, is a side effect of his medication. Some days he curses it, like he curses so many things. Other days, he accepts silently, almost joyously. When it comes to Scully and their past, though, he doesn’t want to forget even the most insignificant moment.

He knocks, finally. His knuckles tingle as he waits for her to open the door. Gone are the times when they lived in the same place, coming in and going out with a kiss hello or goodbye; gone are the days he has a key to her place. Scully has invited him over, though, for the first time in almost a year so maybe this means they’re making progress. Or she is just tired of constantly driving out to their – now his, as she likes to remind him – house. Either way, he won’t complain. He won’t ask either, though. Mulder is not sure he’s still allowed to ask; their relationship, in whatever form it is, twists anew at every turn and right now he can’t tell where he is, where she is. Where they are. So he stays quiet, masks it with a smile, and he is certain she does the same. He’s learning to take baby steps, do one thing to get to another. The days where he jumped in, no questions asked, no action thought through, those are gone, too.

“Oh hi.” Scully greets him when the door finally opens. She stares him up and down as if she’s been expecting someone else.

“Why are you dressed like that, Mulder?”

“I’m wearing casual clothes.” He explains slowly, looking at her. Of course she’s dressed for the occasion already: tight black running shorts and a very form fitting, short sleeved running top in a deep, dark blue. Mulder tries not to stare, tries not to react, but he’s like a Pavlovian dog when it comes to her. She clears her throat and he swears he hears her amusement. Some things simply never change. His eyes meet hers and the twinkle he sees there lets him think today might be a good day for them.

“Why are you wearing casual clothes, Mulder? You can’t run in jeans.”

“I can run wearing an Armani suit, Scully, so the question is I can’t or you won’t let me?” Just like that her mood shifts; there’s the slightest quiver around her lips that would go undetected by anyone who hasn’t spent the last twenty years observing her, loving her.

“Mulder…”

“I know, I know,” he apologizes, “I just didn’t want to scare away my Uber with my tights.”

“Mulder, you need a car.” She finally opens the door wider and Mulder, albeit hesitantly, steps in. The apartment, he realizes, is not at all what he expected or feared. There is nothing here that screams Scully at him. A few picture frames are up and the book shelf carries a few medical journals, a couple of books. There are no personal trinkets. He sees none of the novels she still claims not to own, the ones that are full of fairytale romances, tropical settings and atrocious writing. Mulder stumbled upon one of her dog-eared paperbacks a couple of days ago when he tried to tidy the place up. Just in case, he tells himself. In case she ever wants to come home.

“That’s why I took this job, Scully. Skinner promised me a car.” She rolls her eyes while massaging oil into her legs. The smell reminds him of lazy Sundays years ago when she, not him, wanted to go running. Just in case, she’d told him. In case of what, he’d wondered even then. Unbeknownst to them it had been the beginning of the end. Yet, the sweet scent fills him with a longing. At least back then they’d been living together, sharing their lives, such as they were.

“If you want to keep said job, Mulder, you need to get back into exercising.” She pats his stomach, which he believes is still firm enough.

“Are you saying I look fat?”

“No,” she continues her pre-run routine with stretches that make Mulder hot for entirely different reasons than exercise, “I’m saying you need to get back into shape. Which is why I’m asking you again: why are you wearing this? Where are your running clothes?”

“Like I told you,” Mulder says, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans patiently and slowing down even more when he sees Scully watching him intently, “I didn’t want to scare away the driver. I came prepared.” Taking his jeans off all the way reveal his running tights. Scully bought them for him a couple of years ago and he protested, preferring his much looser shorts, but she told him to try it anyway. He’s been wearing the tights ever since.

“They still fit?” Her voice, as well as her eyes, soften, the memory though unspoken seems almost palpable in the small room. Afraid to break the spell and unable to form words anyway, Mulder just nods.

“Well then,” Scully raises her arms into the air, her top riding up and revealing the slightest peek at her stomach. The need to touch her there is almost unbearable and he straightens his own shirt to distract himself and his hands. Scully lowers her arms and the moment is gone, leaving only the lingering sense of longing. “Let’s go?” Her hands are on her hips and she’s staring at him, challenging him. Some things really do never change, he thinks, and nods.

*

They return an hour later with Scully hobbling on her feet and clinging to him. Mulder offered to carry her and upon receiving the eyebrow withdrew his offer and instead put his arms around her. He’s essentially carrying her this way, too, but he knows she lets it count because her feet are still on the ground. Her body is warm, hot even, after their intense run. She tried to outrun him knowing that despite her smaller physique, she is in much better shape. They didn’t speak at all, just ran, and somehow always fell into step with the other. Until they suddenly didn’t.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she’d told him through gritted teeth, trying to stretch her left leg and keep running. “We can keep going.” She’d said then, her wet, teary eyes betraying the strong resolve in her voice.

“The only place we’re going is your place – and slowly.” She had not protested then, except for when he tried to carry her, and now here they are. Scully lets go of him and he almost reaches out to stop her, not ready to lose the close contact, and wobbles into her bedroom. She doesn’t tell him to follow and Mulder stands there, half in, half out. His eyes wander about, searching for his jeans, so he can leave. Maybe. He doesn’t know what the protocol is in this situation.

“Mulder?” A muffled voice comes from the bedroom. He takes a few steps and stops in the doorway. The room is as sparsely decorated as the living room, maybe even more so. It reminds him of a hotel, not the ones they used to stay in, in a very sterile, very impersonal way.

“Yeah?”

“Could you, uhm… I hate to ask this of you, but…” Scully is sitting on her bed; she’s taken her shoes off, but she is still wearing the rest of her running gear. She looks young and cute and as much as Mulder wants to voice this, his feelings for her, he keeps quiet and waits for her to go on.

“My leg really hurts and… it’s just a kink. I had it before and uhm, the best way to get rid of it is a massage.” She’s unable to meet her eyes so his grin goes unnoticed. He clears his throat and nods. Which of course she doesn’t see either.

“Sure, Scully. Just tell me what to do.” She sends him into the tiny bathroom to get oil. There are several small bottles and Mulder doesn’t want to think about why she even has them. He picks the one that smells like peppermint, knowing she prefers that for her after run routine. At least he hopes this still rings true. By the time he comes back, Scully has taken off her running tights. The sight should not paralyze him like this; it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, touched before. He used to kiss down her legs, tickling her behind the knee and making her laugh out loud in delight.

“Mulder? What are you doing?” Her question jolts him back to the present time.

“Nothing. I just got the oil.” He joins her on the bed and wonders if he should take off his own clothes. He is positive that he reeks. But his hand lands on her thigh and she moans – loudly. Mulder forgets everything else after that. He uncaps the small, green bottle and pours some of the oil into his hands. He’s done this before, of course. As he puts his hands on her soft skin and starts kneading gently, he can’t help but think of other times they did this. When she moans again, in a way that reminds him of a different situation altogether, he closes his eyes as if in pain only to realize it’s even worse, his mind feeding him unwanted memories. No one, least of all Scully, taught him to navigate this; the remains of their relationship. I need time, she had told him once when she came by the house to pick up a few things, and you need to get better without me here, she’d finished, leaving him again, alone and waiting. No manual to sift through; even if, as Scully would most certainly remind him, he never reads the manual anyway.

“Oh, do that again!” Scully moans and that’s when Mulder stops.

“I can’t do this, Scully.” His hands remain on her leg, warm and firm, oily and soft.

“You’re doing great, Mulder,” she assures him, her face sideways on the pillow, her eyes closed, “Just keep going, please.”

“No, I mean I can’t do this, whatever this is.” One eye opens, then the other as she shifts to look at him. “Why did you even ask me to come here? I can go running at home, you know. You used to do it there, too. It’s a much nicer neighborhood.”

“You’re right,” she sits up with difficulty, “Maybe I wasn’t completely honest when I asked you come here to exercise together.”

“Are you going to make me guess?” Mulder asks when he can’t stand the silence any longer; his therapist implored him to work on his patience, and he has, but right now, he can’t wait when his heart beats faster with a sense of hopeful longing he hasn’t felt in a while.

“Maybe I finally wanted you to see this place,” Scully admits, biting her lower lip; he knows her, reads her easily, and he knows she’s still holding back something, and so he waits, one eyebrow raised, “Do you like this apartment, Mulder?” For a moment he considers lying.

“No. I hate it.” He tells her honestly and she nods.

“I hate it, too,” she admits, her eyes never leaving his, “I miss our house,” she hasn’t called it that in a long, long time, “But I wanted you to see it and well, give you a key. I didn’t mean for my leg to be this bad. This – the massage was not part of my plan.”

“You had a plan?”

“Kind of,” she chuckles, “I thought I’d give you a key so you could consider this your home away from home, too.”

“That’s what this is for you? A home away from home?”

“No,” she takes his hand into hers and stares at his fingers, gently running her own over the back of his hand, “It’s a refuge. I needed one, Mulder. At least for a while. I’m keeping it because… it’s so much closer to work than the house, Mulder.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.” Scully rolls her eyes at him, but then smiles.

“I want us to stay here during the week and then… go home for the weekends.”

“Together? You want us to live here together?”

“Unless you don’t want us-”

“Scully, as long as there’s an us, I want it all.” She grins at him coyly then and lets go of his hand.

“You’ll keep going to therapy, though.” It’s not a question and he nods. “You’ll keep taking your meds.” Another nod follows as a huge grin appears on his face. “We’re not… we still have a long way to go, Mulder.” He wants to take her into his arms, hold her tight and never let go, kiss her and never taste anything else ever again, but he stays put, waits for her.

“You came up with this whole you need to exercise ploy to make me come to your apartment? Scully, you know you could have called.”

“I know,” she tells him, leaning into his space and he can’t wait until they’re ready to take the next step, when this is not just banter but foreplay, “but let’s face it Mulder: you really are out of shape.”

“Says the woman with the leg injury.”

“It’s not an injury, it’s just – why are you grinning like that, Mulder?”

“No reason, Scully. No reason at all.” It’s happiness, he knows, and when she returns his smile he knows she sees it, too.

Tabula Rasa

Pairing: Steve/Tony
Fandom: Marvel Adventures
Tags: fluff, humor, costume swap, amnesia
Summary: When Loki decides to wipe Steve and Tony’s memories, the two of them have to figure out their mission - and their identities - for themselves.
Notes: For this image square on my stony bingo card:


It was supposed to be their day off, that was the thing. Tony and Steve had plans for a quick game of basketball then a trip to the cinema to see a rerun of Alien, but they’d got word that Loki had been spotted terrorizing citizens in downtown New York by conjuring an army of evil bunny rabbits.

“Come on, Tony, let’s drop by and sort out Loki, then see if we can still make the matinee showing at the cinema.” Steve had turned his most winning smile on Tony, and really, who could resist that?

They almost succeeded in battling through the hordes of vicious fluffy bunny monsters and taking down Loki, but at the last minute he caught them by surprise, summoning thick green vines which burst up from the sidewalk and held them in place.

“Puny mortals,” Loki said smugly. “You only succeed in foiling my plans in the past because of your prior experience, or you wouldn’t stand a chance against me. Let’s see how heroic you are without your memories!”

He waved his hands in an elaborate pattern and a burst of golden light flew across the street and hit both of them. Tony felt pain for a moment, and then there was only darkness.


He came around to see a terribly handsome blond man leaning over him, looking concerned. “Are you okay?” the man asked gently.

Tony sat up and looked around in confusion. He wasn’t injured or in pain, but his head felt thick and fuzzy. He tried to remember how he had come to be lying in the middle of the street, but there was nothing, just a blank space in his memory.

“Um. Yes? Sort of? Why can’t I remember anything?”

The blond chewed his lip nervously. “I’m afraid I couldn’t say. I woke up next to you a couple of minutes ago, but I don’t remember anything from before that either.”

Something was nagging at Tony’s attention, and he realized with a start that it was because his movements felt heavy and difficult to control. There was some kind of plate over his face which he flicked up, and he looked down to realise that he was wearing, of all things, a shiny bright red and gold suit of armor. Huh.

He looked back at the blond man, and noted that his outfit was pretty unusual too. Chainmail over a blue body suit that was, uhh, rather tightly fitted, with red and white stripes round the middle and a big white star on the front. There was a cowl attached to the suit which he had pushed back to reveal dreamy blue eyes, and the ensemble was finished off with bright red boots and gloves. 

Was that an… American flag themed outfit? Jesus. Tony hoped he hadn’t been rescued by a passionate Trump supporter. That was unlikely to end well.

Keep reading

The Drake-Fisher Residence, New Awlins Edition

There are lot of cool photos and meta regarding the house that Nate and Elena live in at the end of the game, but what about unnecessary information about their residence in New Orleans?

We don’t know much about the way that Nate and Elena interact with the environment in which they live, in the sense that we’re not getting flashbacks to walking down Bourbon Street and immediately regretting walking down Bourbon Street, no one should ever walk down Bourbon Street or anything, but we do have context both in the environment of Nate’s workplace at Jameson Marine down by the Mississippi River warehouses, and in the buildings surrounding the Drake-Fisher residence in New Orleans proper.  I return from my last architectural analysis of the orphanage/Boston setting to talk to you about bridges, preservation ordinance, and THE SHOTGUN HOUSE.

(This is about to get really image-heavy.)

I’ll preface all this by saying that nowhere in New Orleans is there a truss bridge that looks like something between a Parker truss, a Pratt truss, and a Camelback truss, but fine, Naughty Dog, I’ll accept your bridge discrepancies. (I have outlined the truss shape in little red lines so it’s easier to discern. For you bridge-lovers. I KNOW YOU’RE OUT THERE.)

The layout of Nate and Elena’s house is pretty simple: a rectangle, with smaller rectangles inside of it. It’s small but comfortable, with an insulated attic space originally intended for storage and relatively tall ceilings. The latter is a hallmark of many Southern houses built before the advent of air conditioning, because heat rises and you can’t sit around sweating all damn day. Seriously. These ceilings are tall.

For convenience I’ve provided a basic plan layout I mocked up in AutoCAD, aka Satan’s Architecture Program, of the first, second, and attic floors, respectively. For those unfamiliar with reading floor plans, thinner lines at the border walls represent window openings, of which there are very few. This is not uncommon for shotgun houses, which I will talk about…now.

The shotgun house is awesome. It’s a piece of Southern vernacular architecture that has become synonymous with Creole culture the closer you get to the Equator while wandering away from the Mason-Dixon line, and was the most popular style of housing from the end of the American Civil War through the 1920s. Traditionally, the shotgun house is a narrow residence that is basically one long, skinny rectangle, with rooms arranged one after the other in a line. The only hallway, which provides access to each room, starts at the front door and runs all the way out the back door.

Here are a couple great examples!

There are some academic arguments about the origins of the name: I always heard it was called a “shotgun” because you could feasibly shoot through one door and out the other without hitting anything because there are no doors between the other rooms. Other scholars have suggested that “shotgun” is actually an Anglicized interpretation of “to-gun,” a Dahomey Fon term meaning “place of assembly,” thereby tying its roots to the housing of Afro-Haitian peoples. Blacks have historically outnumbered whites in New Orleans and it is entirely possible that they brought their housing arrangement traditions with them.

Shotgun houses can also come in two-story versions, or “camelback” versions, the latter of which basically adds a second story to the rear of the house, thus giving it a “hump.”

Anyway. ONTO THE ACTUAL GAME SCREENCAPS. Let’s start at the top, and work our way down!

The A-Frame gable (that triangle shape) of the attic space is pretty typical of two-story shotguns, as well as the window set into the gable, an element which can be seen in every shotgun gable photograph prior to this section. The window in their house is an oculus, or “eye” window, pretty popular during the Victorian period of building. The window is partly decoration, because a flat facade is incredibly boring visually, and partly for ventilation, though less so with air conditioning. Based on the insulation tacked between the ceiling joists and around the oculus (but the lack of visible ventilation duct work), this space is at least mildly cooler than the outside, which honestly isn’t saying much if you’ve ever been to New Orleans in the summer. I don’t know how Nate is wearing long sleeves up here and not sweating bullets.

Down on the official second floor, we get a good look at the fenestration arrangements (window shapes, sizes) and also the outside! Which gives us really great environmental context.

Behold! A classic New Orleans gallery house, complete with side-door, flanking lanterns, narrow columns and chimney, and those tall-ass windows. But how do you access the second-floor porch? The tall-ass window is your door! It’s also used to circulate air by pushing the lower sash up to the middle, and the upper sash down to the middle, letting the hot air out and the cool air in.

You’ll notice that the difference between the two-story shotgun and the gallery house is that even if the two-story shotgun has a second floor porch - which they often do not - columns do not run from floor to ceiling on the second level.

Outside the Drake-Fisher master bedroom window, you can pick up elements of New Orleans vernacular styles on the other buildings in the neighborhood.

The windows in their house on the second floor on the front and rear of the house are probably not original to the building, probably replaced before or during the rehab process, because they are of a style not indicative of the area: a wide central pane of glass flanked by two smaller, movable sashes. This style looks a lot like the windows of the Chicago style school of architecture, popularized in the early 1900s (below).

Based on the views available from every conceivable angle in both the master bedroom at the rear of the house, and Elena’s office at the front of the house, they live at the corner of two streets in a historic neighborhood.

Now to the first floor door! A great Central Door Look ™ is the kind that incorporates sidelights (those little stacked windows flanking either side of the door) with a strong Classical lintel over the door itself. Crown molding on the ceiling. Hardwood floors. Nice. Doors in most shotguns typically do not have sidelights (as they take up space) unless the door itself is centered.

Also literally no one but me cares about this but they have an antique door knob fixture and that’s cute! Older knobs were much smaller with slim, narrow plates. 

Based on the central placement of their door and its door surround/sidelights, as well as the placement of the stair on one side of the house, it’s a pretty safe assumption to make that they live in a shotgun. BUT ALEX, you cry, WHERE’S THAT ONE LONG HALLWAY AND THOSE SUBSEQUENT ROOMS? I’m super glad you asked, because it’s also not at all uncommon for shotgun houses to have their interiors gutted and rehabilitated to better suit modern needs! This is especially prevalent in New Orleans, where the majority of their historic preservation ordinances apply to the exterior of a building, rather than the interior!

This ordinance is most heavily used in the French Quarter, where you can subdivide and alter the interior of historic building to your hearts content, provided you maintain the exterior’s character-defining features (trim, paint color, cast-iron balconies, et cetera), but is also often applied to the houses in New Orleans’ other historic neighborhoods.

I hope this was edifying and/or interesting for anyone who is not historic preservation-inclined, but as a preservation specialist I was really delighted to see the amount of detail put into a space so small!!!

You’re still you

Request: hey. i love your blog and your writing so much. i was hoping if i can request an imagine with reader x teamiplier where the reader used to be depressed and cut themselves and nobody knows because the reader always wear long sleeves but they all go to the beach or something and the reader wears a top that shows off their arms and it ends in fluff and stuff. you can change it up something along those lines. i understand if you can’t/ don’t want to do this, just asking

A/N: anon, I hope you’re okay. If you ever feel like it all gets too much please reach out to friends/family/a professional and get help. You are so valuable and important, please find help when contemplating harming yourself. Take care, enjoy the fiction.

  • Reader x Teamiplier
  • Summary: Its hot in LA and the reader is invited to hang out at the beach with the team, its a big step to take.
  • Non Gender Specific pronouns for reader
  • Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of food/drink/the ocean. 
  • Despite this being a positive feel-good fiction, it does contain mentions of self injury scars and the reader has insecurities, please proceed with caution and do not read this if it will trigger you.

It was a hot day in LA and you were happily dancing around your kitchen in your pyjamas while your bread was in the toaster. The sky was blue and the birds were singing, it was going to be a good day. You poured some orange juice into a glass before hearing the music pause as a text appeared on your phone from Kathryn.

“We’re gonna head to the beach in a bit to soak up some sun and let Chica run free. You joining us?”

You smiled down at your phone and responded.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Meet you at the beach!”

The toast popped out perfectly golden and you covered it in butter and munched on it happily. You finished eating and then made some sandwiches to take for the team if they got hungry.
It then came to deciding on clothes. Your eyes skimmed over your wardrobe of long sleeve tops and thin jackets. You were already feeling sweat form from the heat and shrugged your shoulders, grabbing a tank top and shorts.
You looked over your outfit in the mirror. The clothes looked great on you and were nice and cool, but your eyes froze at the sight of your arms. The scars were old, it had been years and they had faded to a colour slightly paler than your skin.
You adjusted your hair and found yourself fiddling and spinning the ring on your finger. Your eyes darted from scar to scar.

You shook your head and stepped back from the mirror, grabbing a bag and leaving the bedroom. They’re scars, who cares right? You walked about your apartment arguing with yourself, the team had never seen your scars. What if they got scared, what if they were disgusted by them? Shivers ran up and down your spine before you took a deep breath and got in your car. It will be fine. You’re gonna be fine. They won’t even notice, they won’t care. It’s fine.

You found the team setting down towels on a fairly empty section of the beach. You ran over and caught Chica’s attention, you crouched down and pet her as the team looked over to greet you.
There was silence. You could practically feel their eyes burning into your skin as they travelled up and down your arms.
You were filled with nerves as you just focused on petting Chica.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

You froze and looked up. Tyler smiling at you after his statement. You were lost for words when Ethan spoke too.

“That top looks great on you. Really suits you, I think you should wear it more often.”

“I’ve gotta agree, Y/N you could be a model with a figure like that.” Amy chimed in. You smiled and blushed, thanking the team.

They soon turned their attention to the buckets and spades they had packed. You made some sand castles, getting a little competitive with the boys as you found the castles lined up, and Mark taking the leash off Chica telling her to decide which one wins.

The dog sniffed each castle, spending extra time on the last, which was Ethan’s.
“I think we have a winner. Suck to suck, Mark.” Ethan boasted, seconds later Chica had kicked down his castle and trotted off back to the others.

“I think we have a loser! Sucks to suck, Ethan.” Mark laughed and Ethan pouted.

Chica sniffed Marks a little too intensely, sending it crumbling, leaving you and Tyler the winners.

After having some fun destroying sand castles and running along the water with Chica, everyone tucked in to the sandwiches you’d made.
As you chewed on your food you found your fingers running up and down your arm. Your mind raced wondering what the team really thought despite how nice they had been.

“I don’t want you to think we’re ignoring or invalidating this.” Mark spoke as you turned you head to him, taking your hand away from your arm.
“Its sad that it happened and that you reached that point, but that doesn’t change who you are.” Mark spoke, the words hitting you with force.
“You’re still Y/N. The past doesn’t change that.” Mark smiled at you warmly. Your heart was fit to burst when you heard your friends joining in.

“You’re still the cute little bean that Chica and I both love spending time with.” Said Amy.
“You’re still my editing buddy who’s definitely better at it than I am.” Kathryn laughed.
“You’re still the caring, inspiring person that we’re all thankful to be friends with.” Tyler grinned.
“and you’re still fucking amazing at making sandwiches.” Ethan giggled, taking a bite of the delicious food.

You felt your body turn warm and you grinned.
“You guys are too nice to me I hate you” you joked and laughed as the team did too. Chica came and sat by you while you finished your food.

After an hour or so Chica was tired out, but Mark was unusually happy to be at the beach despite his fear of the ocean, so Amy and Kathryn returned home with Chica leaving you with the boys.
You were playing games with a frisbee when a young girl approached Mark asking for a photo. He happily put his arm around her and smiled at the parent as they held up their camera.

You went to walk out of shot when they gestured you back in.
“You guys can be in it too! She loves you all.” They spoke joyfully.
You stood on the end next to Ethan as you looked to the floor, feeling insecure at the fact there was going to be photos going round the Internet of your bare arms.
Ethan picked up on your body language and put an arm round your back placing his hand on your arm. You turned to him and whispered “thank you” before smiling for the photo.

As the little girl ran back to her family Mark turned back to see Ethan’s arm around you and your face looking sheepish. He suddenly spun his head to see the family walking away slowly.
“Do you want me to ask them to delete that? We can take it again if you’d rather not be in it.” Mark spoke with kindness realising how uncomfortable you were.

You span your ring round your finger looking down as you thought.
“It’s fine. It’s something I’ve got to get used to I guess.” You spoke feeling unsure. Not a second later you were engulfed by Ethan’s arms as he hugged you tight.
“I think the world is ready for your beauty. Those dainty shoulders deserve to be displayed.” He giggled and ruffled your hair as you smiled up at him.

The boys all looked at you with admiration before Tyler spoke.

“We’re all so proud of you.”

Midnight Cinderella Suitor’s Fashions

@aquisces-arts wanted to see what the suitors would look like in modern clothes, so I did my best conceptualizing what each would wear and why.

Let’s start with King Byron:

Byron dresses very monochromatically– wearing different shades of black head to toe, and choosing gold accents that catch the light. 

If you look at his hair, you can see that his wisps are very controlled. Even his cowlick is styled neatly. He would probably use a light pomade. The details on the jeans give texture without distraction, like his black casual shirt in the game. 

The gold zipper on the knees also satisfies his love of gold hardware. If you notice, Byron does not wear jewelry aside from his earring, which he shares with Nico, so I think a planetary key chain would be a good choice for him, as it combines his star-gazing hobby with an outlet for an accessory.

Of course, a Rolex is a must, and I think he would always give himself a chaste spritz of cologne before stepping out of the door. This scent is unisex and has a dry-down that smells of vanilla, woods and leather.

I don’t think he would shy away from stylish shoes– he may even be a subtle trend-setter. Because Byron can hold his liquor with the best of them, and because he doesn’t tend to let himself get too casual out in the open, I thought martini glass novelty socks would be a fun twist. It would be his own little secret. While it may not be that wild of a thing for the rest of us, considering Byron’s aloof personality, he may feel that it really is daring indeed.

Keep reading

Shiver

Paring: Matt Murdock/Reader

Tags: female reader, canon compliant, blind date, blind humour, bed sharing, fluff, angst and a happy ending bc why not

Summary: “And Matt, this is ________, practically my keeper and non-biological sister, and you are each other’s blind date. More-so for Matt.”

Foggy sets his two BFFs up, and Matt’s life gets in the way of romance.

Word Count: 2,241

Posting Date:  2017-03-18

Current Date: 2017-06-11


Originally posted by arabellawrites


Keep reading

If You Won’t Love Yourself, We Will

Originally posted by amynelsons

Request: Hiya. Its me again. I’m sorry 😳 but um, I was wondering if you could do an Ethan imagine (I frickin love Ethan) where y/n isn’t very skinny and is slightly overweight and is so self concious of her body and what not and Ethan is there to tell her encouraging words to.her (it doesn’t have to be romantic but I wouldn’t mind if it is) sorry this is so long

Summary: Fem!Reader is overweight and self conscious about it and Ethan goes and makes her feel better about herself. What a nice guy I love Ethan.

A/N: Hey guys, this request hit very close to home as I too struggle with being self conscious about the way I look and wih body dysmorphia. It sucks, and there are definitely better days than others, and I wanted to kinda depict the way I personally feel on the bad days when I don’t want anyone to see me. It’s unedited because I honestly just didn’t want to reread it and get sad while watching Harry Potter. As always, italics signify the inner monologue of a character. Hope you guys enjoy this one. Also I’m pretty sure I’ve used that gif of Ethan before, but I kinda had to use it for this fic, it’s too perfect not to.

Wordcount: 1190good length, yes?

Request some more guys!

Keep reading

“Our little Family “

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester, Sammy(8), Charlotte (4), Sophia(4) Winchester (kids)

Length: 1662 words

Summary: You and the Winchesters got out of hunting a few years ago when your first son Sammy was born. You and Dean got married and bought a house in Kansas, leaving the bunker behind. Your little family expanded when your twins Sophia and Charlotte were born. What happens when a mysterious girl knocks on your door one night and demands Dean Winchester?

A/N: This will be a little series, about 4 chapters. Hope you enjoy reading it. Critique is always welcomed.


Originally posted by hunterchesters

Today was one of those days where you wished you could have stayed in bed. You woke up to a loud noise and crying coming from one of the kids’ rooms. Your eyes shot open and you jumped out of bed, running into the hallway, seeking for the source of the noise.

“Is everything alright in here?” You opened the door of the twins’ room. Then you saw it.

“Sophie, honey what happened?” You picked up your crying 4-year-old from the floor. Her little sobs were breaking your heart.

“Mommy, I had a nightmare. And then…” Another sob shook her tiny body. “And then I fell out of bed.” She buried her face in your neck and you hugged her tighter to your body, stroking her blond hair.

“My poor baby. Did you hurt yourself?” You asked and she shook her head no.

“Everything’s okay now Sophie. The nightmare’s over. How about I make you your favorite breakfast?” She looked up, her eyes still red from the crying.

“Waffles with syrup?” You chuckled and turned around, seeing your other daughter still asleep in her bed, oblivious of what just happened.

“Of course. Whatever you like sweetheart. But now, let’s wake up your sister.” You put her down and she jumped on Charlotte’s bed, tickling her twin. Charlotte woke up groaning and tried to hide under the blanket. You smiled at them and sat on her bed, tickling both of them until they squealed.

“Come on you two. Wake up daddy, your brother, and your uncle Sam. I’m gonna prepare some waffles.” They jumped out of bed, running to your bedroom. You walked downstairs into the kitchen and smiled to yourself when you heard laughter coming from upstairs, indicating your husband was awake.

Keep reading

Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x reader (eventually)

Warnings: Language, violence, explosions, mean aliens, pie

A/N: I have no idea what come over me, or why I’m suddenly delving into the Marvel franchise headfirst. All I know, is this is pretty long, but then again, I did write it. I have no self-control, I swear. Enjoy!


Bucky.

“Barnes!” you gasp, lying flat on the ground where you’ve been thrown by the explosion of a nearby car. You’re really getting sick of being knocked around all the time, tossed through the air by some kind of freaking alien or asshole in a suit.

Keep reading

imagine #15

character - Gally

words - 2062

warnings - n/a

description - You cherish the promise ring Gally made for you back in the Glade.

a/n – requested anonymously ; I changed the request slightly as I tend to go by book events, but I hope you still like it!

Keep reading

Moulin Rouge! // Min Yoongi

-

the prompt: do you think you could write a yoongi x reader fic? Something with a situation/plot like Moulin Rouge?

words: 6636

category: moulin rouge au

disclaimer: all references and rights of moulin rouge go to it’s original creators.

author note: right so I watch the whole movie and there are like 7 different angsty plot twists. i skipped only a few. anyway this is a lot like the movie since it was fresh on my mind so i hope you don’t mind that. I also took a few things that I wasn’t comfortable with writing out. I hope you guys enjoy this because it’s my longest scenario yet at 6k+ words.

- destinee

Originally posted by bwiseoks

Keep reading

mess is mine pt. 3
jon x sansa, book canon post-war for the dawn
A continuation of this one-shot and the sequel. This was not intended to be anything more than a fluffy one shot. But here we are on chapter three, which is dedicated to my number one fan @the-eagle-girl. Essentially, Rickon is brought back from the assumed dead and used to cockblock, Sansa catches Jon jerking off, Sansa invents lingerie and Jon finally gives in to his overwhelming urge to go down on his wife.

Keep reading