i don't know if she is awake or not

astrology disney
  • Aries: "I'm gonna hit you so hard, it'll make your ancestors dizzy." - Mulan
  • Taurus: "“You said you’d never leave.” - Beauty and the Beast
  • Gemini: "“I wonder if I've been changed in the night. Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!”
  • -Alice in Wonderland
  • Cancer: "“Man has always learned from the past. After all, you can’t learn history in reverse!” – Archimedes, The Sword in the Stone
  • Leo: "So this is love, So this is what makes life divine." - Cinderella
  • Virgo: ""Always let your conscience be your guide." - The Blue Fairy (Pinocchio)
  • Libra: "“Ladies do not start fights, but they can finish them.” – The AristoCats
  • Scorpio: ": So you want me to throw her into the asylum, unless she agrees to marry you? Oh that is despicable (Laughs evilly) I LOVE IT!" - Beauty & The Beast
  • Sagittarius: " "You control your destiny - you don't need magic to do it. And there are no magical shortcuts to solving your problems." - Merida (Brave)
  • Capricorn: ""Even miracles take a little time." - Fairy Godmother
  • Aquarius: ""Listen to me. The human world is a mess." - The Little Mermaid
  • Pisces: "You know that place between sleep and awake? That place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you… That’s where I’ll be waiting." - Peter Pan
Actual Quotes from my Dad (An English Teacher)
  • Dad: Why the hell did you put a comma there?
  • Dad: Do you even know what a participial phrase is?
  • Dad: Omg. He's like my favorite character of all time.
  • Dad: Who should I dress up as for the movie premier?
  • Dad: Hey are you awak? I know it's late, but you read Animal Farm, right? Yeah. I need you to read this report. I can't tell if I am just super tired or if this is actual bullshit.
  • Dad: Alesha wouldn't be able to spell 'definitely' right if wrote it down for her. She would fucking erase it and then write 'defiantly', because she doesn't care. I hate her.
  • Dad: I need you to bake brownies. I lost a bet.
  • Dad: Omg. You cannot ship me with Gilcher. You know I don't like tattoos and he's like twenty-five. And for Christ's sake, he teaches math.
  • Dad: Omg. Gilcher said the funniest thing today.
  • Dad: Mrs. Ashworth and I have decided to start a band. It'll be called Great Expectations.
  • Dad: It's like you didn't read the fucking book.
  • Dad: Okay. So this week you're reading this book I stole from Mrs. Ashworth's. It's like sixty pages long, but you'll love it.
  • Dad: *puts books on my bed for me to read everyday and demands that I read them*
  • Dad: My son doesn't like reading. I have not only failed him, but society. You aren't my son. Leave.
  • Dad: Okay. So you're getting books for Christmas. All of you. I get discounts on them since I'm a teacher, and since I'm a teacher, it's all I can afford, so...
  • Dad: Fucking standardized testing can go fuck itself in the ass.
  • Dad: I have to teach for the required testing instead of what they really need to know.
  • Dad: Fuck the government.
  • Dad: Fuck the school board.
  • Dad: Close the door.
  • Dad: Charles Dickens was so fucking pretentious, and I hate him, but he also caused change, but he's such a Dick. Ha. DICKens.
  • Dad: I love puns.
  • Dad: People who say sarcasm is the lowest form of humor are assholes.
  • Dad: Please shut up.
  • Dad: Catching Fire was the worst book but the best movie and that feels weird.
  • Dad: I wouldn't get so mad when you call me at school if you didn't change your ringtones to inappropriate rap music.
  • Dad: I fucking hate Alesha. She asked what countries were apart of Austria-Hungary today and I almost told her to get out.
  • Dad: You cannot visit my school in a dress that short. There are boys there.
  • Dad: Barbra Parks is fucking Queen.
  • Dad: I need you to make me a good, relaxing playlist for silent reading. I'm too lazy.
  • Dad: If I have to watch two of my students grind on each other at one more dance, I will kill them both.
  • Dad: They act like I care what they think.
  • Dad: I hate homework.
  • Dad: I have decided to become a politician.
  • Dad: What's the one book with the guys and the one kills the other and the chick without a name who dies and the short angry man? Mouseman? Oh my fucking gosh. Of Mice and Men. I have failed.

The night of the battle, Sandor Clegane had come to her chambers to take her from the city, but Sansa had refused. Sometimes she lay awake at night, wondering if she’d been wise. She had his stained white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. She could not say why she’d kept it.

so I’ve always sort of liked the idea that within the communion of saints there the Heavy Hitters, the Career Saints who are invoked widely and in situations of grave need—I’m talking your Catherines and Francises and Theresas, the Twelve Disciples and Michael; the Big Time Major League saints who intercede on behalf of so many, and so are always in conversation with the divine, case managers for the sick and dying and hurting and faithful of the world.

but that also means that there’s a bunch of saints hanging around who are just—minor holy women, lesser martyrs, incidental virgins, doctors of the church who never managed to find a publisher. They’re not prayed to very often, and rarely called on to manage the difficult cases; they have a lot of free time.

so what do you do, if you’re a saint with some free time on your hands? You answer all the not-quite-prayers, the “jesus, don’t turn red don’t turn red’ muttered by cab drivers and the “christ, can you just try it to see this from my point of view?” spat out by a furious girlfriend and all the “oh god please let me make this meeting in time” “please don’t let me fail” “I’m so tired I hope I can get home”

or maybe I just like the idea that every time you mutter “god, let me be okay” there’s some girl killed in 9th century for refusing to marry who falls into step beside you—and though no book or chronicle or living person remembers her name, she squints up at you and says with holy authority, “yeah, you’re going to be fine.”

Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part III)

Part III – “You don’t know how lovely you are”


The night was unusually dark, even for the end of September – the scarce light of public illumination swallowed by scraps of mist, like cold long fingers, stretching to capture an unwary victim. But the lack of visible stars caused me more dismay – the feeling of infinity I usually felt gazing above my head, of endless life beyond the flapping of butterflies’ wings of human existence, veiled beyond my reach. I felt small and locked outside of a mystery that made my life more meaningful.

I was walking fast across Princes Street, my hands buried on the pockets of my overcoat, thinking about the job interview I had endured that day – a promising position as a Math teacher for a local high school, very surprising considering my lack of experience and the fact that I was fresh out of college. The headmistress had seemed pleasant and competent, interested in knowing things about my personal life as well as my academic course – inevitably she had asked why I had took almost an entire year off school, four years ago. I had answered truthfully, reassuring her about my full recovery.

To my right I could see the Gardens and the outline of the Scottish National Gallery, one of my favourite places in Edinburgh to relax and spend some free time. Without a second thought, I decided to make a shortcut across the park, which would lead me straight to the neighbourhood where I had rented a small, yet cosy, apartment.

I saw her before I could even hear her – she was standing alone, talking on the phone, close to the museum entrance. She was wearing a long black dress with sleeves, which fitted perfectly her mesmerizing body, kissing her curves with fabric lips – her hair pinned up in a simple but elegant knot. She sounded distressed and – I thought – angry enough to make me want to run in the other direction. I recognized her instantly, even in such different circumstances than those of our last encounter – Claire.

I walked – levitated, really – towards her, without any notion of why I was doing it. Perhaps I meant to thank her for what she had done in the past. Maybe I was fascinated by the idea that, for once, I could be her saviour. She was clearly dressed for an elegant party – as I approached the building, I noticed several people in similar clothing, probably heading for some sort of gala inside.

I could hear her talking more clearly, her voice quick and deadly, like the stab of a dagger. “Fine!” She snapped, suddenly finishing her conversation. Claire looked at her phone with aversion, like she was considering the idea of throwing it to the nearby bushes.

I was near enough for her to notice my presence – without recognizing me, she quickly composed her expression and looked at her phone with pretended interest, fearing any unwanted advances from a strange man in the night.

“Claire?” I called her, as I reached the circle of light streamed through the museum’s doors. Her eyes jumped to mine and softened, as she promptly identified me.

“Jamie!” She greeted me, smiling – her lips were a soft pink with the touch of discrete lipstick. “How are you?”

“Good.” I grinned back – a gesture that almost entirely faded away as I noticed the ring on her finger. It was a sizable diamond, shining like a beacon made of crystal, outrageously dominant on her slender finger. An engagement ring.  “I couldna resist, coming to say hello.”

“It’s so good to see you!” Claire seemed honestly happy and warm – a million miles away from the cold glacier of moments before. “Are you coming to the charity gala too?”

“Ach, nae.” I gave her a lopsided smile and raised my brow. “Is that why ye’re here?”

“Yes.” She shrugged, sliding her phone inside her black satin clutch. “I was waiting for my fiancé but it seems he is…rather busy at the moment. He won’t be coming.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I said softly, trying to abstract myself of how magnificent she looked – dark as the night, but with millions of stars inside her. “I’m sure ye’ll have a lovely time, nonetheless.”

“I doubt that.” She replied, somewhat conspiratorially. “This night was organized by a friend of my uncle – he was kind enough to invite me in honour of his memory. Actually, I don’t know a living soul inside those doors.” Claire’s eyes darkened, sadness creeping in. “Maybe I’ll just go home and send him my apologies afterwards.”

“No!” I instantly rejected the idea. “Perhaps I could go with ye?” I suggested in a cool tone, praying that I wasn’t about to blush. I pointed to my black attire, matched with a grey tie. “I’m wearing a suit after all.”

“That you are.” She smiled, with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Do you really don’t mind?” Claire asked, nervously adjusting a stubborn curl that had fled her hairdo. “We could just pretend you’re my fiancé. No one really knows Frank, either way.”

“Of course, lass.” I mockingly offered her my arm for her to hold. “Shall we?”

We entered the party, quickly mingling with the crowd – an assorted array of wealthy men and women, with a taste for art and philanthropy - or for ostentation. Soon enough we had located the canapé and champagne flutes, launching ourselves in a conversation about the artistry on display – or lack of it.

“So, are you fully recovered?” Claire eventually asked me over the live jazz music, that a small band was playing in the corner, a saxophone crying about the loss of an imperfect lover.

“Aye.” I nodded, offering her one of my owlish winks. “I’m so verra thankful for what ye did for me – I…”

“Don’t be silly!” She dismissed emphatically, waving her hand. “I should be the one to thank you!” And seeing my puzzled look, she leaned over and talked closer to my ear. “After what you told me, I went ahead and applied to medical school. I work some shifts as a nurse to pay my bills, but I’m a proud med student!”

“That is wonderful!” I congratulated her, squeezing her hand – soft and capable, warm under my fingers as a pulsing heart. “I’m so glad!”

I convinced her to dance, afterwards. She conceded with an amused smile. We swayed together, amongst other couples – I wasn’t an eager dancer and had no memory of a time when the idea of dancing had seemed appealing to me. But with Claire everything was natural and effortless – every move and word had the magical quality of destiny, of a life finally fulfilled. I tried very hard to overlook the shackles symbolized by her ring, the deafening warning of a tragedy I was powerless to avoid. She had wilfully surrender to the dragon – I couldn’t be her saving knight.

“So what happened to yer fiancé?” I asked tentatively, my hand struggling not to caress her lower back. God, it seemed so easy to touch her, to hold her against me. “Ye seemed distraught.”

“He had a meeting with another faculty assistant.” She pursed her lips in discontent, her eyes avoiding his – hiding her pain and shame. “Something about a spectacular discovery in his newest research.”

“Oh.” I babbled, trying to sound charitable. “Have ye been engaged for a long time?”

“A couple of months.” Claire sighed, her fingers accidentally brushing the back of my neck and making me shiver, preparing to confess her secrets under the protection of the music around us. “Actually, he has been invited to go to America to teach – and asked me to go with him.”

“And will ye?” I asked, almost breathless – pushing down the sudden feeling of panic, like a dark wave that threatened to swallow the skyscrapers of my soul. “Go with him?”

“I honestly don’t know.” She admitted slowly, wincing a little. “But I accepted his proposal so…I should want to go with him, shouldn’t I?”

“I dinna ken much about serious relationships.” I said in a hoarse voice. “But I dinna understand how a man can leave a woman like ye, alone, in such a night. I dinna ken how anything can be more important than being with ye.”

“It’s complicated!” She tried to argue, but her voice lacked the vigour of certainty. “He has to work a lot to get recognized. Sometimes he has to let go of superfluous things, as much as I –“

“Dinna say that!” My voice was a deep rumble, suddenly stripped of all civility. “Ye should be the priority in his life, lass. Ye are a wonderful woman.” I gulped. “Any man deserving of being with ye, should give ye the place ye deserve in his life. Never settle for less, Claire.”

She nodded, looking away to hide the sudden threat of tears. Eventually, her body relaxed and her cheek came to rest in the lapel of my blazer, silently thanking me for my support. I could feel the small movements of her lashes, the hot breath of her life so close to my heart – I never felt more alive, nor more defeated.

We talked and danced the night away – I made her twirl and laugh, until her face was less pale, more like the lively girl in the graveyard, so alive amongst my ghosts.

At the end of the night, I escorted her to a taxi – not daring to offer her my company to her doorway. I feared what the intoxicating mixture of her and the champagne might conjure up.

She smiled – skilfully tucking something inside the pocket of my overcoat – and stood on her toes to kiss my cheek in a tender goodbye. Later, feeling less overwhelmed by the lack of stars, I read her note – “In case you need it. XO”. She had added a phone number underneath the short sentence and a funny smiley face, with abundant curly hair.

I kept her note under my pillow for the next few weeks – a silent dare, urging me to take a leap of faith. I was convinced that my path was fundamentally entwined with Claire’s – it had to be a reason for the insistency of life to place her in my way. She lured me in – fascinated me.

I must have grabbed the phone, adamant on calling her, half a dozen times. Started to dial her phone number – by then carved on my brain with luminescent red ink of desire – at least a dozen more. I mentally prepared our conversation – tried different variations of casualness, honesty and tenderness. I laid awake at night, gazing at the phone, ominous and teasing.

Iffrin!” I desperately reprehended myself one night, almost a month after the gala. I clenched my teeth, breathed deeply several times, and made the call – prepared to invite her for innocent coffee.

“The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service.” – said the mechanical and metallic voice that took me back to a place with no stars.

the signs as random snapchats my friends have sent me
  • aries: i'm barely awake and my sister said "clean the damn house" bitch clean ya damn vagina im tired fuck outta my face
  • taurus: *picture of herself with the headband on & a blank face* i realized too late that i was playing headbandz and now i know what i am wow
  • gemini: you ever notice that the inside of your mouth looks like the inside of your vagina wait actually idk what the inside of my vagina looks like
  • cancer: *picture of her teary eyed* i nearly started crying because i realized plankton and karen don't have kids because she's a computer so they can't have sex
  • leo: *picture of her with her hair tied around her chin like a beard* who needs men? i'm my own man
  • virgo: *picture of her looking down at the camera at an awkward angle* me trying to figure out how to record without using my hands
  • libra: *at 2 am* in other countries when they eat hot dogs or something do they call it "american food" like how we call china's food "chinese food" #latenightthoughts
  • scorpio: *picture of herself on the toilet with her legs scribbled out* woah why tf am i constipated (my dick not showin, just my legs)
  • sagittarius: *picture of her crying* while i was chewing i bit down on something chewy IT WAS A BUG I THINK PLEASE HELP
  • capricorn: *blurry picture of her looking terrified* tell me why i dropped my phone in the fucking brownie mix i hate everything
  • aquarius: *blurry picture of herself* i kicked an ant bed and i think some of the ants went in my pants and are biting me
  • pisces: *picture of her crying* me realizing maddie isn't even real. or maybe liv isn't real. idk they just aren't actually twins. they're the same girl. and she doesn't have some unique connection to her twin sister who'd she do anything for because she doesn't have one.

So I keep thinking about Aaron potentially going to prison….and I keep having these thoughts about how Robert would cope with Aaron inside (I touched on this a little bit here), and something @godamnarmsrace said got me thinking about a moment between Robert and Chas.

I imagine Aaron has been inside for a while, maybe a few weeks, maybe a month. And he’s struggling to cope. He feels sad and lonely and he’s scared and self-loathing, desperate to come home soon.

And I picture Robert visiting him, as he always does, as much as he’s allowed. And one time he visits on a particularly bad day for Aaron, and Aaron can’t pretend he’s doing “okay” anymore. I can imagine Aaron getting a little tearful, and finally being brutally honest about how much he hates it inside.

And Robert hates it too. It absolutely breaks his heart to see his husband in such a state, but Robert knows he has to be strong. That’s the role Robert has played from the moment Aaron got sent down; he knows he needs to be strong and positive. He’ll almost make out that Aaron being inside isn’t too much of a big deal, because he’ll be home soon. And he’ll always do his best to keep Aaron’s spirits up, to tell him about how things are going with the Mill, making sure he’s being really positive and giving Aaron a lot to look forward to when he eventually comes home.

But inside Robert is breaking. He feels absolutely broken and devastated that he can’t magic Aaron out of prison and make everything okay. But he keeps that brave face on, to the point where he even gets a little smile out of Aaron by the end of their visit, but as soon as Robert turns his back on Aaron to leave, his face falls, and he is once again crushed to have to leave Aaron alone like that.

Keep reading

  • Liam: I wait till everyone falls still, and then I scrabble over to you.
  • Vax: Are you awake? Yeah, you're awake.
  • Keyleth: Yeah, yeah, no I'm staring at you.
  • Vax: Um, I don't know if it's the food you made or the fact that we're going to die tomorrow, but I wanna kiss you.
  • Liam: And I kiss her. For a while.
  • Vex: (shouting across the room) DID YOU USE YOUR TONGUES?
  • Keyleth: How does she - she sees everything!

anonymous asked:

hey, I know you usually don't take prompts but would you ever consider writing a supercorp fic where Lena confesses to Kara that she's a Luthor by blood? I just, I love your writing, but it's okay if you don't feel like doing it. thank you anyway :)

I love prompts! Always feel free to send them! This wrote itself. I have no idea where this came from?

Lena lies awake, years after knowing the truth, and feels it slithering inside of herself. Pounding with every thump of her heart, layering her vessels, starting in her marrow and flooding her heart and sinking into her tissues, the very fibres of her muscles.

That utter truth of her blood, her genetics, her DNA.

The Luthor part of herself.

It was something she’d clung to, as she’d gotten older. That maybe nurture wouldn’t beat nature and she wasn’t really a Luthor. That she could break that trend and step away from it all and show the name was just that: a name for her. But then her mother took that away from her and left Lena’s ears screaming with the truth: Lena was a Luthor through and through, nature and nurture, blood and mind. Born and bred.

She buried it, though. Buried that truth into the deepest part of herself and didn’t tell a soul. Not even Kara. The truth of it burned in her throat, a lump of shame so large Lena thought she’d drown in it. But still she didn’t offer it to her. The only thing she kept from Kara, ever. The second thing, but that first was one that was useless, was not for sharing. Was just for Lena. 

Kara Danvers, with the smile that lit up something in Lena’s chest, stole the air from the room, sent a flush through her cheeks and left her breathless. Kara, who stood by her through ever scathing article, every attempt to pull her down with the Luthor name and believed, believed, believed. Kara Danvers and her relentless belief made the entire year after Rhea bearable. More than bearable, she made it liveable. And Lena kept those two secrets smothered so far down she thought, some days, she didn’t even think of them.

Somedays, Lena felt that blood crawling through her system post a Cadmus attack, post her mother’s spouting of something xenophobic, post a manipulation attack, and all she could think was how to distance herself from the Luthor. Any decision she made she wondered what her mother would do, what Lex would do, and Lena would do the opposite. Jaw clenched and heart pumping that traitorous blood through her body and aching, utterly, with the need to prove herself.

And Kara, by her side, every time. The brush of her hand. The sure look in her eyes. Months and months after Rhea, after Mon-El, and Kara ended up closer and closer, and Lena would suck in a breath at how sheerly lucky she felt to have Kara Danvers so close. So close and always there, gaze heavy over lunch and hugs a bit too lingering. And still months on, Cadmus made a final play, Lena’s mother at the forefront, and Lena found the strength to help take them down with Kara standing fiercely in front of her, eyes blazing in a way that was almost alien, as she spewed her belief for Lena in the way that only Kara could. Captivating and pink cheeks, fists clenched and jaw tight.


Always breathtaking.

And they won.

And these days, after so many decisions that have taken her so far away from her mother’s footsteps, so far from even Lex, the brother she loves and grieves for continuously, Lena still has nights she lies in bed, listening to her own heartbeat, feeling it thud against her palm over her chest and wonders just how important blood can be, because from what she has seen, the answer is still always: very. Even after the world has finally stopped suspecting her, years on. Even after Lillian still rots in a cell. Even after that night on her balcony.

That night Kara stood on her balcony and blinked heavily at Lena, eyes welling with tears and Lena hadn’t been able to tear her eyes off of her as Kara’s feet lifted off the balcony, oh so slowly, her face without glasses and sorry Lena, I’m so sorry, falling from her lips over and over again. A whispered apology that trembled out and Lena just stared, eyes wide as Kara’s fingers shook, resting over a crest framed by undone buttons. There was moonlight on her skin and her hair seemed to shine like it always did, permanently soaked in sunlight in a way that made sense, then. And Lena still just stared as Kara, eyes wide and terrified, floated back to the ground and just stared back at her, apologies still falling into the air between them, filling it up. 

And instead of running away, Lena stepped forward, stepped into Kara’s space and threaded her hands in her hair and trailed her lips over Kara’s, tasting salt and sun and the truth. Because Lena understood locking a part of yourself away from people, to protect yourself or to protect them, reasons blurring together until you’re trapped in the lie of it all. But instead of that secret, Lena let that second one spill out, the one that had been the first.

“I love you.”

Words that trickled over Kara’s lips. That spread through them both, followed by another kiss, one of many, soft like silk, a desperation in their mouths, in the nip of their teeth. And Kara? A year after Rhea, there on the balcony with her shirt gaping truth and with a mended heart, said it back, her fingers needy as they gripped Lena closer and Lena almost fell apart under it all. Under the weight, the solidness, of those words, of truth, of the actions that seemed to have steamrolled them all over since she was saved in a helicopter by Supergirl and stunned by a personal assistant seeking truth in her office. All of it, since then, every single moment that left either of them elated or broken or stumbling, seemed to have pushed them here, to this moment they clung together and kissed with the weight of truth and trust over them. Of words neither could take back but neither had the urge to.

And maybe Lena kept some truth, something that was hers. And still lies with it now, years later, eyes glued to the ceiling and feeling her body vibrating with the truth of her own genetics. And Kara, still there beside her, throwing warmth as her legs are twisted in the sheets, her hair a mess around her head and over the pillow. And Lena lies there, fingers twisting that band around and around her finger and loves her, with everything she is, but burns with the thing she’s kept locked away. Because suddenly, it’s important. Suddenly, it means something.

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter what Lena has done leading up to now, because her blood is still gushing through her, through her skin, her stomach, every part of her and her eyes are welling and tears are spilling over and she’s a Luthor, in every damn way that counts, and Kara Danvers is so good and laying next to her and Lena’s going to suffocate with it.

“Hey.” The word is hoarse, rough with sleep, but soothing. Everything that Lena needs. “Hey, hey.”

And Kara’s arms are around her, are tugging her in as close as she can manage, which is never close enough the last few months with this thing between them. But her fingers brush Lena’s hair back off her face and graze against her cheeks, wiping tears away and her lips press firm and sure and warm against her forehead.

Lena grasps at one of Kara’s hands, tugs it down to sit with Lena’s over her swollen belly as she pulls back on the pillow to look at Kara, feeling the kick and roll of the baby that’s so close to coming. To being solid and real and out in the world, not wrapped in Lena where she can protect it every single moment and her throat is thick with the tears that are still falling as Kara’s eyes go wide, even with the concern that’s still washing her features. Wide like they always do, even though the baby’s been moving for months and months. Kara gets a gentle look of heart-shattering wonder every time, and it always makes a part of Lena still, calm, stutter to a stop to consider just how happy she is. It works now, as Lena sucks in a shuddering breath at the sight of it and tries to calm her racing heart, that secret like fire in her throat like it hasn’t been for years as Kara presses her hand firmer against her belly, the baby responding and Kara’s lips quirking up at the feeling even as she swallows and looks at Lena imploringly. “Lena. What’s wrong?”

And Lena tells her. It’s like breaking down a wall with her hands alone. One erected for years and years, one she’s almost forgotten is there, it’s such a part of herself. She pulls it down and lets out that final secret. The truth. The Luthor side of what she’s fought against her entire life, and railed against even more since finding out the truth Lillian had given her with all but a sneer. Railed against with everything she is.

Because now she’s passing it on to another being. A living, loved, beautiful being beneath her and Kara’s joined hand, kicking and kicking against them even as the words stutter out of Lena’s lips. She closes her eyes, unable to watch Kara’s face. Unable to take her in as Lena lets out this betrayal, as Lena tells her that a Super, of all things, is going to be parent to a Luthor. 

The words are barely out before the bed is shifting and Lena’s chest heaves a sob, sure Kara is leaving. Fleeing. Lit up with anger, eyes glowing red hot with the pain of it.

But then hair is brushing Lena’s cheeks, soft and sweet-smelling. Kara always smells like the sky, like the outside. Like freedom and open space and safety. And her lips are pressed to Lena’s forehead again, to her cheeks, over her wet eyelids, trailing over her jaw, brushing her mouth, against her neck, pausing over the fluttering of her pulse, resting over her heart. And Lena is sobbing with it all, relief in her breath and everything, every part of herself that just shattered apart after being poised to do so for oh so long, is glued back together as Kara’s lips press to where their hands have just been, once, lingering, before she’s pushing back up and her hands are cupping Lena’s cheeks. Lena’s eyes open to a well of blue, the blue of space and stars and a women who shoulders the world and is Lena’s world. Kara kisses her again, once, lips soft over own, neither closing their eyes, the contact unwavering and bright and yearning.

“You’re Lena. And that’s all I need to know.” 

And between them, the baby kicks and turns and Lena pulls Kara back down.

• Imagine Neji using Tenten’s place as a refuge from the Hyuuga compound.
• Everytime the curse mark is used against him he shows up on her doorstep with bloodshot eyes and messy hair - she doesn’t wait a second to usher him in and settle him on the couch
• If he doesn’t pass out within minutes she sits herself at the edge of the couch while he settles his head in her lap - she gently messages his scalp while he studies her face committing every freckle to memory
• They usually end up falling asleep on the couch together - her upper half hanging off to the side and him using her stomach as a pillow
• Picking her up as not to wake her, he tucks her into her own bed before heading back to the couch to sleep some more before she wakes
• He wakes the next morning with a heavy weight on his chest - looks down and finds Tenten blanketing him
• She awakes to his unsteady breathing and jumps up to offer him breakfast. He clearly sees this as a ploy to distract him from awkwardness of the situation but accepts her offer nevertheless

Sansa doesn’t know how it happens; one minute they’re deep in conversation, skirting around the topic of Jon leaving for Dragonstone the next morning and the next, they’re asleep.

Jon’s snoring softly against the wall behind the bed, boots still on and raven curls falling haphazardly into his face and suddenly Sansa remembers, heat climbing up her neck.

Jon coming into her chambers to speak with her. Jon offering stubborn reasoning for his leaving and Sansa protesting.

“Stay,” she whispered, and then, unable to control herself, “stay with me.”

She remembers the look on Jon’s face, his mouth falling open softly, stricken with surprise.

And despite everything telling her to make him leave, despite every fibre of her being shouting wrong wrong wrong wrong she leaned forward, fingertips skimming his jawline cupping his jaw.

“I need you,” she murmured, and Jon was so close she could feel his breath, warm and smelling of sweet wine, against her mouth.

She inhaled sharply and then Jon’s mouth was against hers, his hand sliding around her waist and pulling her close.

That was hours ago and now Jon is asleep in her bed, breathing slow and lax.

Jon, in her chambers, asleep in her bed. She stares, unable to help it, the way his eyelashes flutter gracefully and his mouth falling open slightly.

He will leave in a few hours with curt nods at the Northern lords and a smile, secretive and special, reserved for Sansa and she wonders when she will see him again, wonders if they will ever be like this again.

And she realizes, as Jon blinks awake, motioning for Sansa to come closer, that they will have time for that later. For now, as the sun begins to show and her chambers getting brighter, Sansa sleeps with Jon’s arms wrapped around her.


@googoobear-8705tml don’t know if this is exactly what you wanted but hope u like it!! :-)

Dragon faces
  • Henry: should I go to Emma's after school?
  • Mal: Do you wish to? Is that appropriate for you? Your mother is asleep, but I can see her minding.
  • Henry: Is she okay asleep?
  • Mal: She doesn't snore much.
  • Henry: 🤦not what I meant.
  • Mal: It's healthy for her to sleep. She's still quite ill.
  • Henry: she said she was fine now.
  • Mal: Fine has a myriad definitions the way your mother uses it. One of them is 'I'm too exhausted to stay awake, even for baby lions.'
  • Henry: there are other things than nature shows on netflix.
  • Mal: When I run out of nature shows, you may introduce me.
  • Henry: 🙄
  • Mal: How do you do that?
  • Henry: do what?
  • Mal: Make the face. The face where you're rolling your eyes at me.
  • Henry: hit the little face picture. You can choose from there. You can make faces back.
  • Mal: I don't know if these faces match my expression.
  • Henry: this one does 🐲
  • Mal: I want that!
  • Henry: I'll show you when I get home
  • Mal: So you do not want to go to Emma's?
  • Henry: you want dragons or not?
  • Mal: You could just say you're worried about your mother and wish to come home.
  • Henry: or you need dragon emojis.
  • Mal: Yes, dear. I need dragon faces. Come straight home.
  • Henry: fine.
  • Mal: Just like your mother. 🙄

Jane shakes Kurt awake in the middle of the night. At first, he thinks something’s wrong and starts to get out of bed to run to Eden’s room. His first instinct is always to protect their baby girl.

But Jane stops him, grabbing on to his arm and pulling him back into bed as she sets the baby monitor down between them, smiling as she holds her finger up to her lips and then nods down towards it.

Because Eden is talking to herself. She had started talking a few weeks earlier and can only say a few words, none of them Mama or Dada yet. But she says “lub” for love every time she hugs either of them and Jane swears she feels her heart explode every time.

They listen, their smiles growing as they listen to her happily babble away in her crib, picturing her talking to her stuffed koala bear, the one Kurt had bought for her and she took with her everywhere.

And then they hear it.

“Lub Mama,” Eden whispers and Jane gasps, her eyes filling with tears as she looks up at Kurt and he smiles, leaning forward to brush his lips against her forehead.

“Lub Dada,” she adds and Jane laughs, her tears escaping from the corners of her eyes. Kurt reaches out and brushes them away and Jane takes his hand in hers, pressing a long kiss to his palm.

“Mama and Dada,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her as they listen to Eden’s babbling fade into her soft snoring.

They fall asleep in each other’ arms, feeling grateful for the greatest gift they’ve ever given each other – being Eden’s Mama and Dada.

mind of mine plot inspos
  • mind of mindd: new friends who bring you out of your comfort zone (in a risky, kind of toxic way) and make you question everything you know. helps you grow as a person, but not always in a positive way.
  • pillowtalk: the one night stand you brought home from the club...more than once. falling in love between the sheets. exploring every inch of skin on someone’s body. finding out what makes their toes curl. becoming possessive of one another. wondering if this still counts as casual hook ups. fighting over a label.
  • it’s you: being unfaithful. a break up you’re expecting, but still knocks the wind out of your lungs. fighting to stay together, saying goodbye over and over again. having your ‘last kiss’ over and over again. drunk calls and texts and getting sent to voicemail/r-bombed.
  • befour: hitting rock bottom. mister nice guy finally snapping. doing whatever the hell you want to do because no one can stop you anymore. making enemies with everyone you meet. drunken bar fights.
  • she: like samantha and lou from stuck in love. avoiding love out of fear of being hurt. soft conversations. sleeping in with someone during rainy days. coming out of your shell and opening up to someone. a femme fatale and an introvert.
  • drunk: falling in love with your best friend. realizing you’re in love with your best friend. wild and unpredictable summer nights. coming home at two in the morning and crashing on your bed.
  • intermission-flower: unrequited love.
  • rear view: reuniting after a falling out (or trying to -- could be one sided for extra angst). trying to understand what the other person is going through. putting the blame on the other person. ending up leaving them behind/getting left behind.
  • wrong: a fwb where someone starts catching feelings, but it’s not mutual. the other person playing along for the sex. knowing you’re being strung along. doing anything for love.
  • fool for you: the perfectionist and the careless. beating a dead horse. someone who wants to fix the relationship while the other person has already let go.
  • bordersz: the prequel to pillowtalk. shameless flirting. the thrill of the chase. playing hard to get. sending each other drinks at the bar. drunk dancing.
  • truth: getting caught up in drama. being salty and petty. ‘classy n sassy but never trashy’. instagram fame culture. maybe getting catfished?
  • lucozade: being unable to leave a relationship. knowing you’re being cheated on. turning the other cheek. drinking/doing drugs to deal with the pain.
  • tio: a cant keep my hands off you, strictly physical kind of attraction. lots of sexting and nude snaps. teasing. lap dances. rough and raw.
  • blue: a pure, sunday morning kind of love. craving domesticity. holding hands and butterfly kisses. fluff fluff fluff.
  • bright: two reckless people. lots of physical attraction but no emotional compatibility, slightly toxic while they try to figure out how to make it work.
  • like i would: seeing your ex with their new s/o and getting jealous. pettyness. trying to make them jealous back.
  • she don't love me: wanting someone you know is no good for you. treating yourself after a hard day/week/month/year/life. a true one night stand. waking up to an empty bed. anonymity. fake identities.

The mission in the Middle East goes off without a hitch.

Well as much as a secret agent’s mission can. There was a moment with an escaped jaguar that Irina would rather not mention in the job report.

Karasuma is home late, as usual, but he always tries to get home at least a bit earlier on the days of her return from a far away job. He’s not the most emotionally expressive person but he does love her so he tries.

She’s in the kitchen when he walks in to their rather large apartment (courtesy of the Ministry of Defense), the rich, meaty smell of pljeskavica wafting about. She always makes traditional Serbian food on mission return days.

It reminds me of my roots,’ she’d said when he’d asked why she pushed herself after an assignment, ‘It reminds me of my mother. Of the fact that I’m still human.’

She hears him of course, and smiles softly when he walks into the kitchen and rests a gentle hand on her hip, leaning forward to place a bottle of wine on the pristine quartz countertop. As exhausted as she is, Irina squeals in excitement when she sees he’s brought home her favorite wine and feels the puff of his amused chuckle against her neck. It’s a French wine, rather expensive, but Irina has always had lavish tastes. He does enjoy indulging her occasionally. 

Shrugging off his coat, he moves to set the dishes and silverware on the table as his wife pours the wine and sets the pljeskavica on a serving tray. His wife. It’s been seven years and it still takes him by surprise sometimes. He’s already lit the candles when she arrives and she smiles at that, bending over to press a soft kiss to his cheek, fingers brushing through surprisingly soft hair. It’s down, just the way she likes it.

Dinner is nice as always, Tadaomi asking about the mission and Irina replying, in turn inquiring about the happenings at the Ministry during her trip. He laughs when she begrudgingly tells him the jaguar story and she can’t find it in herself to scowl because she loves his laugh.

Then comes after dinner, when they’re leisurely sipping their wine and the world is serene around them. This is when Karasuma lets his worry bubble up to the surface and he looks ate her with imploring eyes, always the same question.

“Are you hurt?”

She hums and he’s on his feet in an instant because she never lies to him and had she not been, her answer would have been an unwavering ‘no’. He doesn’t say anything as this point as she stands as well and guides his reaching hands to her stomach. Tadaomi looks into her eyes, almost asking permission, before lifting the material of her shirt gently and splaying his fingers across the bandaged stab wound. A scowl overtakes his features, narrowing his eyes, turning down the corners of his mouth. She can feel the wave of rage that pulses through him and the ever there concern etched into his movements.

“One of the guys at their base jumped me from behind, I rid him of his gun but he pulled a knife. I knocked him out and secured him quickly enough for it not to disrupt my escape, but was left with a rather ugly wound,” she pouted, “I’ll have to wear bandages for days. And I’ll have to see that doctor that has a crush on you because Yamikawa-san is out of town.”

“Don’t take your injuries so lightly,” he scolds, but it’s quiet and touched with amusement and relief because she’s okay and that’s all he needs.

She pouts harder, pretty blue eyes scrunching slightly. Tadaomi slips his arms around her waist, cradling her gently and laughs again.

“Tell you what, I’ll come with you to the doctor’s tomorrow so you can cling to my arm and immaturely stick your tongue out when you think no one’s looking.”

She huffs indignantly but there’s a smile biting at her cheeks.

“I’m holding you to that.”

He touches his nose to hers in lieu of an answer and Irina giggles, nuzzling slightly before leaning in to steal a chaste kiss and promptly dragging him towards the bathroom because ‘Kayano-chan sent me a package of new bath bombs when I was gone’ and ‘You smell like boredom and old men in suits Tadaomi’.

Two hours later, they’re in bed, arms curled around each other and legs tangled under the sheets. Contrary to her original belief, he doesn’t sleep rigid like a cardboard cut out of an army general. She’s asleep in mere minutes, despite her best efforts to stay awake because she knows he will, and he does. For a moment he just stares at her, almost reverentially. Then he reaches out to brush her bangs gently out of her closed eyes and presses a feather-light kiss to her forehead before allowing sleep to envelop him.

He has wonderful work, a beautiful home, treasured colleagues. And most importantly, he has her.

Shit I've Heard In Class (Part Three):
  • "No one's hunting you."
  • "She's really smart, she just does it out of hate."
  • "All I'm thinking about is broccoli, cauliflower, and sex."
  • "Please try to like not do that."
  • "I'd like to retire and start doing walking pub tours instead."
  • "If that's your best parenting then put your kids up for adoption."
  • "I didn't lie, I told the truth as I knew it, but now I know the truth differently."
  • "What were you thinking promising to return my book to me tomorrow?"
  • "I'm gonna put this ladder on the trampoline."
  • "That's hurtful to my feelings and therefore I judge it as immoral."
  • "Are you saying I'm not a hipster?"
  • "Can I have a sign that that was a sign?"
  • "I hope I never have to live without you."
  • "Uh-oh, I think I might be killing someone today."
  • "Is bug spray okay?"
  • "Put that in your sovereignty and smoke it."
  • "You can just say 'yeah thanks—no'."
  • "Can you predict my behavior?"
  • "I'll deal with this person later, I know where she lives."
  • "IF the dead have feelings."
  • "You're still lazy and you're still stupid—no offense."
  • "We're all immoral when we tell our children Santa is real."
  • "It's almost not tomorrow anymore."
  • "Dogs don't lie to you, they have an innocence about them."
  • "Today may be your last day to have sex, eat a doughnut, drive fast..."
  • "The love and cherish things are a little iffy."
  • "Don't need condom."
  • "You will not leave."
  • "Jackasses are still people?"
  • "I swear to you I'm awake today."
  • "Can you promise to love someone?"
  • "You know what smarter creatures are doing right now? Stealing my car."
  • "Maybe we messed up our feelings."

anonymous asked:

I don't think Lucy is exactly awake. She seems to believe for sure, and she knows/has the heart of truest believer. She doesn't seem to recognize them or have memories of her past life. She didn't recognize Henry's face either. She asks him is he is Henry Mills before she tells him she is his daughter. And the whole conversation from 7x01 in his apartment also points this out. She knows it's true, she just doesn't have her memories.

That’s a good point.

     Natasha gasps awake. There’s a face hovering in her mind, ever so familiar, ever so distant. She can’t place it but it’s smiling at her. Phantom hands cup her face, one warm, one cold, and she leans into a sensation that isn’t there, chasing it before breaking free of her dream.

     Another morning, and it feels like there’s something important that she’s forgotten.

     James sits at a bar and idly flirts with the woman who has decided to sit to his left. Apparently the metal arm doesn’t intimidate her, which is refreshing, but she’s looking to be taken home tonight and he’s not really sure he wants to do that.

     He catches a glimpse of red hair across the room, mutters his apologies, and leaves.

     Natasha’s mission takes her back to Russia, and there’s a painful nostalgia at work. For all the hurt she has endured here, there are flashes of something warmer, something kinder that she can’t place. A body dwarfing hers in the winter, curling around her and keeping her safe.

     She’s lost in thought and nearly misses her drop-off. That just won’t do.

     James startles as someone calls him by name– by his given name rather than Bucky– before realizing he’s automatically given that one to the barista. It’s disappointing, he thinks, from someone else’s mouth. It doesn’t feel right, doesn’t sound right anymore.

     He’s still waiting. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get to stop waiting.

     Natasha comes home covered in injuries but successful, as is par for the course recently, and Bucky finds himself at her bedside.

     “I know you,” she says. He nods, and she shakes her head. “No, I mean I know you. I’ve always known you.”

     “Oh thank god,” he replies, and throws his arms around her tight.

cassiopeium  asked:

Dawn, Glow, Ocean + Gallya

Illya had never been so exhausted in his entire life. His training with the Special Forces in Siberia, round-the-clock surveillance missions, days of flight connections across every timezone; nothing before compared to this level of sleepless exhaustion. He walked to the window where the first glow of dawn threatened, glinting off the ocean that separated them from their past lives, a constant reminder of how far they had come.

Behind him Gaby slept like the dead. Her insomnia rarely reared its ugly head these days and she never turned down the opportunity to drift off when he offered to take over. The light slowly seeping into the room stood no chance of waking her.

Illya yawned and blinked with warm affection at the cause of his sleeplessness, wide-eyed and awake in his arms, as much undeterred by the dawn as she was from sunset. She smiled, Illya imagined, at his bloodshot and bagged eyes, the husk of a two metre tall man brought to his knees by a child the size of a bag of flour.

“You think this is funny?” he asked in a raspy voice.

She smiled again in the dawn’s glow and he couldn’t help but smile back.

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