i don't have a title for this idk


Ground control to Captain Andor, AKA the Rebelcaptain Astronaut AU no one ever asked me to make

The year is 2032. It’s the end of construction to extend the International Space Station with a top-of-the-line rotating habitat, bringing the old station into the new age of space travel. Captain Cassian Andor has been on a solo mission to the ISS to install the Key To Station Operations, an AI more commonly known as K-2SO, whose job it is to manage the newly expanded station, as well as assist the crew when necessary, enabling the entire station to be run by only one crew-member at a time. 

To put the new features to the test, Cassian is to leave the station in the hands of Jyn Erso, a British astronaut send in from the ESA. She arrives two days before Cassian’s planned departure to earth, and the widely different pair take an immediate dislike to each other.

Unfortunately for them both (or perhaps fortunately), due to a critical error in K’s programming, he accidentally ejects Cassian’s return pod five hours too soon. The capsule is sent floating off into space unmanned, and Cassian is stuck on the ISS with Jyn. His only option is to wait out Jyn’s two-month mission and take the planned descend back down with her. Suddenly, they need to somehow find a way to get along for a total of 64 days.

There’s room enough on the station for them to avoid each other most of the time, but for some reason they never do; instead they get in each other’s space, his hand on her elbow when he drifts by her, her eyes always finding his as the first thing when she enters a room. Cassian isn’t sure when the feel of her loose hair tickling his throat as she floats by stopped bothering him. Sometimes he’s not even sure if it ever really bothered him at all. Jyn doesn’t remember when she started thinking of Cassian’s discarded jackets left in her workspace as an annoyance and started seeing them as signs of the kind of life she tried to leave behind on earth, but now longs for.

Without realising it, they’ve both started closely orbiting each other as surely as the station itself is orbiting the earth.

By day 17, they’ve both privately begun to understand that maybe they aren’t as different from the other as they first thought. By day 34 nothing’s been done about it, but even two people as repressed as Jyn and Cassian will have to snap at some point when pushed together in such close quarters…

Reader pronouns: Female
P.O.V: Second person
Note: I chose female reader for some reason? The majority of my stories won’t have this though. Requests are open.

Your grip tightened on your rifle, watching the man through your scope as he made his way around the open courtyard. Angela’s words rushing throughout your head, echoing every time your rest your finger on the trigger. “ I have to tell you something,” you remember her face and the way guilt overran her features. “ Your…Gabriel is… he’s still alive.” The mix of emotions that washed over you conflicted. Anger and fear going to war with love and happiness.  You pressed further, asking how, and begging her to tell you the location of your long-time husband.  " Well, the thing is…“ a pause, one that would lead to a horrible revelation, one that would lead to your cold, shaking hands. ” Gabriel isn’t himself anymore, Gabriel is Reaper.“ Your heart sank to your stomach, the negative emotions win the waged war. The mercenary that you’d come to know as the ruthless killer, who as luck would have it had made many attempts on the lives of your friends. And now, here you were, infiltrating one of Talon’s many headquarters, aiming a gun at your dead husbands head.  You snapped out of your trance when your name was called out over the coms.

” What?“ you mumbled looking away from your scope, your eyes still focused on your target.

” Do you have the shot?“ Soldiers voice growing impatient. You rolled your eyes.

” Yes.“ your voice coming out shakier than intended. Jack knew Reaper was Gabe. Jack didn’t know that you knew, and he was still asking you to do this. He was asking you to kill your own husband. You looked back through your scope, knowing the bullet would never leave your gun.

You watched him, his behaviors and body language, trying to find any remaining piece of Gabriel. Searching for the courage to tell Jack you weren’t going to shoot him. You sat up, turning to lean against the wall that was pressing against your rib cage. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. Unaware that Gabriel- that Reaper had caught a glimpse of you.

Your eyes shot open at with a sudden sound and uneasy feeling, and before you knew it the barrel of a shotgun in your face.  You quickly attempted to get away. A shot rang out and you fell to the ground, your leg gushed out blood as you attempted to stand again.  But to no avail.

Heavy, almost taunting steps came from behind you. ” S-Soldier- Jack- I need-“ A foot placed itself on your back. You choked back tears. Gabriel, your husband was standing above you. Pinning you to the ground with his foot. You felt so helpless, your heart imploding on itself.  

Jack called out your name, asking- begging you to respond. You looked over your shoulder, letting out a quiet sob as you saw Gabriel lift his shotgun. ” G-Gabriel, please.“

He stopped, his foot pressing harder on your back ” You chose your side.“ You turned away, crying. You accepted your fate. You tried to remember your Gabriel. Trying to remember his face, his personality, the way it sounded when he spoke your name, and voiced his love for you.

Once the shot rang out, Reaper felt pain inside of him. Watching as your head leaked blood. To say he didn’t feel regret would be a lie. He wanted you more than ever in that moment. His grip tightened on his shotguns, he stepped back, unsure of what to do next. He couldn’t just walk away. He couldn’t leave you there like laying on the ground like trash.

He stepped back, looking at you for another moment before walking away.  Fighting against his former self, fighting his past. He wasn’t Gabriel Reyes. You weren’t his wife. He didn’t love you. Your death meant nothing

He’d never lied so much in his life.

He didn’t care about Overwatch. He hated them. He hated Jack and Ana. He hated that witch, Dr. Ziegler.  He didn’t hate you, you were the one pure thing in his life. The one thing he wanted back from his old life. And he’d just shot you in the head and left you to die. He turned back, he couldn’t leave you.

ok so i have an idea for a new series but idk who it should be

like im debating between Taehyung and Jungkook (because i can write/know their personalities the best in my opinion)

so leave a message in my ask box telling me which member the series should be about please

the series will be titled “Letters For You” 

so yeah tell me which member it should be about

anonymous asked:

Okayyy Jeff Bhasker anon again you're gonna have to google it yourself maybe I was spacing the link but tumblr: lmfao I was looking at pics from Harry's bday and not that I don't trust HDD alone but, I think Jeff Bhasker was there??? Like in the picture captioned "Harry seemed to be in great spirits" in the Mirror article titled "Harry Styles celebrates boozy 23rd birthday in style..." you get the most decent look I think, and idk it could be him *shrug*

Ah, yes….I think you might be right anon, but i’m not totally sure. I wouldn’t know Jeff Bhasker if I passed him on the street, but i might now lol 


Alex Kamal appreciation week: Day two | Favourite episode: Here There Be Dragons

i choose this day, because i really enjoyed him having a bit of a storyline by himself and actually being the focus point. plus he was super badass

So it occurred to me I didn’t have any clear drawings of the Evil ninja, other than maybe the first draw with him but even then…. it’s kind of hard to use that as a full on ref…

And I’m working on the pages rn, but I got confused with the original sketch and then realized… I forgot what this guy even looks like… SO Here!! Just a simple lil ref, but here’s the Evil Ninja!

He does have a regular form, but I’m not revealing that through refs. :’)

shelter from the storm

All I can think about is Danny catching the first flight back.  He’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom, Steve’s asleep, but it’s clearly not a comfortable sleep.  It’s tense, there’s twitching, pained grunts, a grimace on Steve’s face, the exhaustion so severe that he sleeps on, anyway.

Danny doesn’t yet cross the room to get into bed.  He doesn’t know what to do when he gets there, doesn’t know where is safe to touch.  Steve’s chest might be healing nicely but the scar is still red and bright.  And Danny, fuck, Danny, maybe it makes him a coward but sometimes he snuggles against Steve’s back, just so that he can feel and see and nuzzle a patch of skin that’s unbroken.  Just so that he can be at peace for two fucking seconds, not have to face the sight of Steve, sliced open, raw and bleeding and leaving him.

“I fucking hate you,” he whispers, because Steve’s ruined everything, his back swathed in bandages, a brand new slice right beneath that’s just waiting to break Danny’s heart anew.

Steve grunts, rolls onto his back and gasps awake, the pain an almost physical presence in the room, a red haze that Danny could reach out and touch if he wanted to.  He doesn’t want to, the haze always hurts like acid but he chose Steve, he chooses Steve, he’ll always choose Steve.  He walks into the room.

“Steve,” he says, heartbroken, overcome by how relieved Steve looks to see him.  “I’m sorry.  God.  I love you.” 

He shucks his sweaty travel clothes and crawls onto the bed.  He might be smaller but he curls around Steve, a shell around a pearl.  Steve is chipped and uneven, rough at the edges, but perfect, beautiful, the greatest gift the sea has ever given.  Danny holds him gently with both hands, fights through the red haze to settle his palms on broken skin.

“Bit sore,” Steve admits reluctantly, because he’s Steve and he doesn’t know any other way to be.

“Yeah,” Danny says, voice wet with emotion.  “Yeah.  Your chest.  Your back.  I don’t even know where to… I don’t know.  I don’t know where to touch you.”

Steve sighs, still hurting, but content now.  “Just there,” he says, drifting off in Danny’s arms.

“Just there,” Danny agrees, a bundle of grief and gratitude and love.  The haze is slowly fading, but Danny won’t sleep, not yet.  He breathes deep and settles in to guard Steve through the night.

why did i do this

^not a serious title

I actually just cooked this up in the past two hours out of sheer writer’s block and boredom. SO HERE. UNEDITED. NAKED ALMOST.

Assassin AU x Prince AU x Bodyguard AU
Word Count: Too much
Genre: “why did I do this”
Summary: There’s an assassin, she’s an assassin with a name I laughed too much at. Jumin’s involved, he’s the prince, he tries to do prince things. Jaehee’s involved too, but she’s given a hard time (like always :c )

Should I make this into an actual fleshed out series LOL

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

omg headcanons are open! ^o^ so idk if you've played/remember this one event that i...CANNOT remember the title of sorry :/ but basically it was heavily implied that nobuyuki and saizo's sister yuki did the dirty and that nobuyu was very... "hard" on her ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) do you have any headcanons for them in bed together?

I didn’t play that event, but I did see the screenshots? Actually I thought they were just throwing innuendo at each other to make Yukimura uncomfortable lol. my second thought was that they got into a fight and were just making it sound dodgy as hell because yukimura. i’m putting it under a cut because nsfw. sorry it’s really short but… psst i don’t really like yuki lmao sorry. if you want something more detailed you’re gonna have to ask someone else!

Nobuyuki and Yuki in bed

Keep reading

TitleSleeping WIth The Enemy
RatingMature Audiences
CharactersMichonne, Rick Grimes
Word Count: 1,635
SummaryMichonne is a notorious White Collar Criminal that actively pursues a night with Rick Grimes who happens to be a renowned agent with the FBI. An agent completely oblivious about just who it is he has invited into his bed. What was meant to be a simple night of pleasure and blissful irony turns into something Michonne wasn’t prepared for in the slightest. And as feelings for Rick begin to surface, and the realization of his feelings for her become more prominent, her life becomes a steadily complicated balancing act.
PartsChapter 1

Her fingers were splayed across his toned stomach admiring the gentle rise and fall that came with each steady breath. Their legs were intertwined, bodies still entangled, they were a mess of sheets and sex exhausted limbs. Every so often she’d gaze up at him to see if he were awake and each time she was met with eyelids shut fast over his bright blues, face devoid of anything other than tranquility.

He was always so peaceful when he slept, like an earthbound angel, all the stresses of the day seeming to melt away as he slumbered. She found herself enthralled by the sight of him sleeping, so enthralled even that the thought of leaving him was almost painful.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

i think it's ready?? i'm not going to upload to tumblr because, man, that's scary. i don't know how to do summaries either AH. or titles. forgive me. it's called: "Being With You Can Give Me a Migraine" by The_Moon_Writer. ye. it's sooner or later gonna be available on fanfiction, but not now. ahhhhh. this is scary. idk if i should reveal myself on tumblr or not - i'm just really shy ;w; i could do it though, heh. as for the underfell thing...i have no idea when i'll be done for that.





pure n wholesome.png alternatively titled When Will My Sinful Goblin Hands Stop Drawing Seymour And Go To Sleep 

also idk how to draw backgrounds but it doesn’t matter bc the world is a H*ck

Happy B-day Mark and My First Markiplier Video

I just watched Markiplier’s video title “Reacting to SECRET old videos!!”. And for his B-day, Mark asked for our favorite videos.

Problem is… I don’t have a favorite, but I remember my first video and the video that got me coming back.

My first video by Markiplier was “The Slender Man Song”.

Here’s the Linkhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEOkEJvAw1c

I was really into creepypastes at the time and love to listen to readings of them on Youtube. At one point, I had heard of Slenderman having a song. So I looked it up and Mark’s video was one of things that pulled up. It was nice, but not what I was looking for. I figured it was a fan made creation and thought it was great. 

Then some strange, random man holding a dog and wearing a pink, fake mustache punched Slenderman in the dick. 

I still remember rolling the video back several times out of confusion and thinking “That is not what happens! You looked at him! You should be dead!” I left after that video to find another Slenderman song. Found a few, but they still weren’t what I was looking for.

After sometime, my brother, Isaac (who happen to have the same Birthday as Mark), introduce me to Markiplier’s video title “Citizen Burger Disorder”.

Here’s the Linkhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlUGhWCIxpI

Oh my gosh. I’m replaying the video as I type and I remember why I love it so much. I’m smiling like a goober now. He just fed a rat to somebody. XD

I made this post as a way to say Happy Birthday to Markiplier.

And Mark, if you do ever read this. Thank you for making all the videos and making me smile and laugh; on good days and bad days. Happy Birthday. Stay strong. We love ya. See you in the next video. Bye-bye!

“Gosh Logan I have no idea how you manage to write so much!”

I got this comment once or twice after posting something last week (which I got a lot of praise for and made me extremely happy so ty, you know who you are) and so I felt like sharing my recently organized list of Writing Stuff

Trust me this stuff doesn’t just show up, it sits on my Google Drive for ages until I finally get around to finishing it and I spend hours (usually during my drives in and out of work) turning it over in my head until I’m happy with it lol. Writing is hard. But it’s also fun.

anonymous asked:

do u take prompts??? ignore this if u don't but i've got a star trek one!! it's a bit silly but like, what if bones and jim one day notices that spock always reads things rly close to his face?? and he needs glasses but he never knew bc vulcans don't have glasses, so bones fixes it for him. idk, it's dumb. otherwise, have a lovely day and i hope you feel ok!! lots of love

i do! and hooo boy that’s a good one :D as a person with VERY BAD EYESIGHT this was so fun to write lmao. thank you for prompting this omg! i’m doing okay <3

(sorry for the late reply, i had to let this sit overnight haha)

thank you to allie for discussing glasses and frame designs at length with me and providing the title! she gets to go to space for her efforts now :P

[read on AO3]

Read The First Line

Jim was sitting in the captain’s chair, nursing his first coffee of the day and watching a phenomenon he had been observing over the course of the last few days.

“Bones,” he said, calling his friend towards him. “Come take a look at this.”

Keep reading

The Laughter Waltz

Based on this post on carmillatexts, by some wonderful anon.


The Laughter Waltz

The music floats through the air, and Carmilla holds her hand out to Laura. Laura takes it, smiling, and Carmilla thinks she’s going to melt when their fingers touch. She leads Laura out to the floor, spins her once before pulling her in, face to face, chest to chest. The bottom of Laura’s dress sweeps across the floor as Laura whirls out again. One two three one two thr- shit.

Carmilla trips – over what she doesn’t know – and has to throw out her arms to right herself. She misses catching Laura on the way back and Laura stops to figure out what’s going on. At the sight of Carmilla, usually so graceful and elegant, halfway between standing up and falling down, she giggles, then claps her free hand over her mouth. Carmilla glares playfully at her before reaching out for her again.

Other couples have joined them, though not many, so most of the guests are watching them, a little shocked. When she pulls Laura in again, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Laura smiles again. “It’s okay.” She leans forward, kisses Carmilla gently. For a moment they dance, just steps and the music.

And then- Carmilla’s tripped, this time probably over her own feet. Laura actually laughs this time, and Carmilla stands up with all the dignity she can muster. Damn her cheeks for betraying her.

“What’s going on?” Laura asks, when Carmilla has managed to take a few steps without falling. She regains her balance and what little dignity she still has. Laura looks concerned. “Is it my dress?”

Carmilla spins Laura out, watches the dress flare around her ankles as she steps out and then back in, each foot placed perfectly. “It’s definitely not that,” she says, once Laura is safe with her again.

“You’re looking pretty good yourself,” Laura says. “Have I told you that already?”

Carmilla blushes, looks down. Her suit fits her in all the right places, and she knows she looks good, but Laura is something else. Lafontaine had grinned their wide goofy grin when they’d seen Carmilla, standing in front of the mirror, pulling nervously on her sleeves.

“You look great. Wonderful arm candy for Laura,” they’d said, stepping in. “Black and white – a classic.”

“I didn’t want to wear all black,” Carmilla said. She twisted her hair up above her head, looked at herself critically. “Up or down?”

“Down,” Lafontaine had replied. Carmilla dropped her hair, and Lafontaine smoothed it over her shoulders with their fingers. “Definitely down.”

“Carmilla?” Laura says. “You okay?”

“What? Oh yeah.” She looks around. The floor has filled some, people probably less anxious about dancing now that Carmilla has stopped tripping all over the place. Carmilla takes a deep breath. You can do this. She looks at her wife, at those bright eyes-

And she’s tripping again, Laura giggling, and after a moment Carmilla giggles herself at how ridiculous it is.

“This is your fault,” she says to a still laughing Laura. “You’re distracting me.”

“Me?” Laura says incredulously. “You slacked off and didn’t come to our rehearsals.”

“I’ve been waltzing for over three hundred years. I know what I’m doing.” Of course, her feet choose that moment to fumble – Laura’s eyes having everything to do with it, again.

“You sure about that?” Laura asks. Her laughter is infectious and Carmilla laughs too, any sense of embarrasment sliding right off her. It’s this Laura she loves, the laughing playful one, and this woman loves her back.

“Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” he had asked, and Laura never looked away when she said the words, “I do.”

Carmilla had felt Laura’s hands beneath her own, warm, living, bones so fragile she’s afraid sometimes to touch her, and still so strong Carmilla cannot sometimes believe she is real. It didn’t feel real – or perhaps it felt too real, the only real thing in three hundred years – to stand across from her, from in her a wedding dress no less. She didn’t hear the question when it was asked, but she knew exactly when it was her time to say the words.

They’d felt like stones dropping from her lips into the still pond of time. She’d imagined she could see the ripples flowing all the way back to her birth, when this was put into motion. “I do.”

The music is still playing, and people are starting to stare at them again, so Carmilla straightens herself, holds out her arms. Laura takes them, stately, the joke still on her face.

They’re spinning again, one two three one two three, a line in the pattern of the dance. Carmilla watches Laura’s face, her wife. She can’t believe it, it hasn’t quite hit her that this amazing, beautiful woman has married her, and then – she should have seen this coming – she trips over her own feet again. She grabs Laura to keep herself upright, and laughter overcomes her. Laura dissolves into giggles and they’re leaning on each other’s arms.

Their guests have stopped dancing, are watching them with concern, but the band plays on. The music dances around them, between the guests. It wraps itself around Laura and Carmilla where they stand, laughing themselves into tears of happy disbelief.

Time is a ball of wibbly wobbly timey-wimey stuff

@mrsagentspooky @agcntspooky

                                                This is it. 

                        The moment of truth. 

            Goodbye Mom. 


A bright light forced William to close his eyes. He could feel the small cabin moving (through what? space? time?) and he gritted his teeth against the sharp, jarring movement. Geronimo! Yeah, right. He wasn’t the Doctor, and this was no Tardis. Despite Dana’s explanations, he still had no clue how this thing - a blend of old UFO parts and recycled shells put together by his mother’s brilliant mind - functionned, and for all their her planning and calculations there was no telling whether or not it would actually work, or how safe it was.

The movement stopped. Inertia threw William to the floor, and his eyes flew open, but he couldn’t see past the spots of light obscuring his vision. The walls of his make-shift machine trembled and creaked and groaned, and collapsed on his back. 

Well, he tought, if there was ever a chance for a return trip, there it goes.

Somehow, he managed to get out of the the rubble with his duffel bag. Standing up, he took a look around, his eyes widening as they took in the sights. Gone were the graffitied buildings and broken windows, the chaotic ruins that had been his background for the last few years. In their place was a field, lined by trees, all quiet under the blanket of the stars. A smile tugged at his lips. It looked like home. He missed that.

Tearing himself away from the landscape, he made his way out of the field to the road.

In the middle of the night, and with all the scrapes and bruises he was sporting from the crash, it was a wonder he ever found a car willing to take him. But he did, and a few cars and several hours later, he found himself in an appartment building in Arlington, knocking on number 42, while a small part of his tired brain laughed at that coincidence - if Fox Mulder was anything like the man Dana had described, the number was a perfect fit.


From the moment I understood the game, I knew United were the one.

You find something that you can identify with, something that resonates in your chest every single time you watch them emerge from the tunnel and walk onto the pitch. Something that is capable of making your heart burst at the seams in an instant for two directly oppositional reasons. When you hear your home stadium erupt into life, when you can feel the atmosphere bringing you to the verge of tears, when your entire body is immersed in goosebumps, when the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention, you know, you just know.

I don’t know how a football club can take over every single emotion possible, but it happens week in, week out. I find myself anchored to this club, attached by my heart strings. It is agonisingly painful in defeat but euphorically beautiful in victory. To remain so staunchly proud of a team that has not rose to the occasion and has let you down. To still have an immense amount of adoration for all the times you have been left bitterly disappointed with a rival defeat. For all the times your team has took you to that cup final and lost on penalties. When they do lift that Premier League / Champions League / F.A Cup, when Van Der Sar does save that critical penalty, when they decimate the rivals, when Ole Gunnar Solskjaer steals that last minute goal to solidify that victory, the colossal amount of elation and exhilaration is absolutely boundless.

Football is the most beautiful, powerful, evocative and emotional thing I have ever loved. People who are worlds apart figuratively and literally, join forces and unite to celebrate their devotion for not only their club but their country. Brought together for that same passion, pride and love that you are so honoured to possess. Enriching every single life that it touches, there is simply nothing else like it in the world.

FIC: If I want you, I gotta have that

Title: If I want you, I gotta have that
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 11.3k
Summary: It’s just that Harry’s had plenty of time to get comfortable with what he wants. Harry’s had time to play around with a million versions of Louis, not to mention all of the actual real people he’s fucked. Louis just needs a little time to get used to it himself.

Sequel to Just let me try and I will be good to you.