i really hope that this time they don't screw up everything

Imagine: making Tom relax on his birthday

To say Tom was a bit on edge would have been an understatement. With the recent GQ article talking about his previous girlfriend, and more rumors about how long the two of you would last or when you’d break up, he desperately needed a ‘lazy day’. So, you took it into your own hands, and made sure Thomas had nothing planned on his birthday until the night, when he could celebrate with family and friends.

The two of you had been long time friends, and after Thomas recovered from Taylor, you surprised each other by realizing you had buried shared emotions. You avoided the media as a couple, but the important people in your lives knew, and thanks to them, Tom Hiddleston got to have a relaxing birthday.

Said actor was currently in bed, boxers only, well past his normal waking time. His eyes eased open to the soft golden glow coming through the windows, and when he saw your heavenly smile at his side, he knew being 36 was going to be enjoyable.

“Good morning, love… What time is it?” He asked groggily, as he shifted to wrap his arms around your loosely clothed torso. You had taken to wearing Marvel pajamas as a joke with him, and currently, you just had undergarments and his Thor shirt, which was certainly oversized for you.

“9:26am.” You responded, after glancing at the clock. You heard Tom take in a sharp breath as his eyes widened, but you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, interrupting his worried thoughts. “Thomas, today is your birthday. You have earned a break, so don’t worry… That’s my job.” You joked lightly, running your fingers through his soft hair, letting your nails massage his scalp. He hummed contentedly at the feeling, letting his eyes close.

“Wh-What about-” he began, but soon felt your soft lips against his, prompting him to react in kind. His hands drifted to your waist and hair, but before he could lose himself in your embrace, you pulled back and smiled sweetly.

“Tom, it’s fine. Everything will be okay.” You reassured, before shifting so you straddled his waist and looked down at him, planting your hands to the sides of his head. “You deserve the world, but today, rest should do the trick. I’ll make some tea, pop in a movie or find a nice record, and we can while the day away doing whatever you want… except working.” You explained, your voice low and silky. Tom stared up at you with wonder in his eyes, as he let out a string of soft chuckles and reached his hands up to brush back your curtain of hair.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He asked, his voice wistful and loving. You chuckled lightly and leaned down, pressing your soft mouth to his in slow kisses. After a few seconds, you parted, but remained a breath away.

“You didn’t have to do anything… Now, any ideas for the day, birthday boy?” You asked with a growing grin. Thomas knew you were determined to give him a relaxing day, so he happily accepted that gift. However, he did have some plans of his own for you.

“Oh, darling… this is going to be the busiest day off we’ve ever had.”

0n-y0ur-left  asked:

The "Don't tell anyone you saw me crying" AU sounds super promising!

The best part of Steve’s day is, generally when he gets to go eat lunch in the abandoned teacher’s office on the third floor. It’s quiet up there, and it’s not so dusty now that one of the custodians noticed him hanging out there and comes around to clean it up every so often. So, all in all, not a bad place to quietly eat his lunch, do some homework, and maybe get a bit of drawing done, if he’s up to it.

Except today, apparently.

After the bell rings and fifth period starts, Steve makes his way up to the abandoned teacher’s lounge. He’s got a cheese sandwich, apple slices and a can of Diet Sprite that he’s excited to eat, and a drawing of one of his classmates — a guy who probably doesn’t even know Steve exists, let alone would want Steve drawing him, but that’s the one good thing about being invisible — that he’s excited to finish up. But when he gets to his abandoned teacher’s office, he hears someone…

Well, he hears someone crying.

Still, it’s his abandoned teacher’s office — he doesn’t have much else to take ownership of at this school, so he’ll take what he can get — so he enters anyway.

“What the hell?” Bucky Barnes says, furiously wiping off his face with the sleeve of his henley.

“Oh, uh,” Steve says, clutching the sketchbook that has an in-progress drawing of Bucky Freaking Barnes in it tight.

“Come to laugh at me?” Bucky asks with a rueful chuckle.

“What? No,” Steve says, maybe a little fiercer than he should.

“Then what?” Bucky asks.

“I eat lunch here every day,” Steve says, straightening up. He may only be five foot four and weigh the same as a wet dachshund, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t be intimidating!

He does wish that his beanie would quit sliding down his head and hiding his eyebrows. Having visible eyebrows would probably help the intimidating factor.

“You eat… here?” Bucky asks, looking around the dim room like he’s really seeing it for the first time. He grimaces.

Steve pushes his beanie back. “You’re here crying!” Steve argues.

“Yeah, but I’ve only been here a couple times. You’re here every day.”

Steve scoffs. “Are you trying to contest who of the two of us is less pathetic, because that’s probably a pretty easy fight.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bucky asks, voice getting louder.

“You have everything — friends, football, popularity. I just want to eat my cheese sandwich and listen to my iPod during lunchtime without having to confront crying jocks.”

Bucky stares at him for a moment, then his face screws up. “I’m s-s-sorry,” he says, starting to cry again.

“Oh jeez,” Steve says, shutting the door behind him and taking a few steps across the room, closer to the desk Bucky is sitting at. “Don’t… Cry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You didn’t… it’s not your fault,” Bucky says, burying his face in his hands.

Steve drops his backpack and kneels down, digging through it. After about forty seconds, he emerges victorious with a half-used pack of tissues. “Here,” he says, handing them out to Bucky.

Bucky looks up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. “Really?” he asks. Steve nods. Bucky reaches out and takes the tissues from him. “Thanks,” he says, pulling one free from the package and loudly blowing his nose.

“No problem,” Steve says, trying not to be grossed out, though he can’t help but cringe a little when Bucky looks back up with a line of snot dripping out of his nose. “You oughta…” he says, gesturing to his nose.

“Shit,” Bucky says, wiping his nose again.

“Then again, if you’re sporting snot, I’m sure the rest of the school will follow,” Steve says, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Bucky shakes his head. “You don’t get it,” he says. “I’m not… It’s not like that.”

“That’s not what it looks from the outside,” Steve says, quiet.

Bucky gives him a little half-smile. “I’m just gonna tell you this because I feel like this abandoned teacher’s lounge is a safe, trustworthy space, okay? And because I feel like you won’t blab to a bunch of people, but everyone fuckin’ hates me.”

“Really?” Steve asks, deadpan.

Bucky nods. “It’s… Well, they may not think they hate me, but they do.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s because you’re too beautiful. If you do, I may scream,” Steve says and is rewarded when Bucky laughs.

“You’re spitfire,” he says. “Anyhow, I’m gay, and they’d fuckin’ hate me if they knew.”

There’s a long pause.

“You’re gay?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods, mouth flattening. “It feels real weird to say it out loud,” he admits.

Steve’s mouth drops. “I’m the first person you’ve told?” he asks, surprised.

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t got anyone to tell. My old man’s a homophobic asswipe who’d kick my ass if he knew, and it’s not like I’m gonna tell the guys on the football team that I like guys. They’d take turns kickin’ my ass and leave me a bloody lump on the field.”

Swallowing hard, Steve takes a seat close to Bucky’s. “That’s… a lot,” he says.

“I know,” Bucky says. “Which is why I feel justified to stay in this abandoned teacher’s lounge and cry for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

There’s a long pause.

“Can I eat my sandwich while you do so?”

Bucky snorts. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s live it up. Cheese sandwiches and tears, quite the couple.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve seen worse,” he says, pulling his sandwich from his backpack and splitting it in half. “Want some?” he asks, holding it out to Bucky.

“Sure,” Bucky says, grabbing the sandwich and taking a huge bite.

— —

“Hey,” Bucky says as the bell for sixth period rings.

“Yeah?” Steve says, packing his stuff up.

“Wanna do this again tomorrow? Maybe without the crying?”

Steve smiles. “Sure,” he says.

— —

In a week, Bucky is letting Steve draw him.

In a month, Steve is letting Bucky kiss him.

In a year, they walk around their college campus hand-in-hand.

ailuromatron  asked:

"I don't know if I should kiss you or slap you." "...Wait, what?" NurseyDex <3

It’s not like Will actively goes looking for fights.


No matter what Bitty mumbles under his breath, and no matter how disappointed Chowder always looks in the aftermath, it’s not like it’s something Will hopes for.

Honestly, it’s not anything he wants.

Because sometimes it feels like he’s fighting all the time – like he’s had to fight for everything he’s got, and like he’ll always be fighting.

Sometimes it feels like that’s all he’ll ever be good for.

From the way that Nursey’s lips curl in a sneer (a pointed reminder that Will is forever screwing up), it’s pretty fuckin’ clear that Will’s not the only one thinking it. Not for the first time, Will finds himself wishing that he could just disappear – that the ground would swallow him up or that lightening would strike – literally anything that would save him from listening to Nursey tear him apart.

Because it’s not like Will actively goes looking for fights, but he’s not going to just stand aside and let people talk shit about his teammates, and he’s sure as fuck not about to let anyone get away with spewing that kind of homophobic bullshit… not here. Not in Samwell.

And if Nursey doesn’t get that-


It’s just another fuckin’ battle that Will doesn’t want to fight.

Keep reading

shady-swan-jones  asked:

amanda, if this isn't your time i don't know what is. please give us some sheriff/deputy smut. in your hot, detailed writing

this is me, ignoring my responsibilities, in favor of hot desk sex and bants

speculation and spoilers abound, obvs.

“Not much of a honeymoon,” Emma said between kisses, roughly shoving his leather jacket down his arms.

“And what, pray tell, is a honeymoon?” Killian asked, his hand busily undoing the button of her jeans.

She walked him back until his thighs hit the desk, then pushed him to sit on top of whatever files she’d left scattered on its surface; digitizing the town’s criminal records was going slowly, hampered not only by the usual revolving door of monsters and dwarven antics, but also by the fact that having Killian in the station with her put quite the damper on any desire to do anything but fuck him senseless..

Her husband was extremely distracting.

“A honeymoon,” she said, pausing long enough to strip her shirt off and toss it somewhere towards his desk, “is a vacation for newlyweds. A vacation primarily geared towards having lots and lots of sex.”

Killian hummed, and watched with interest as she unclasped her bra and draped it over one of the lamps. He probably already knew what it was, but one night and several shots of rum had led to him confessing that he liked the way she explained things. “Ah, so a bridal tour without all the pesky need to visit those unable to attend the wedding.”

“Screw them, they can send something off the registry. If we had one. I bet mom made us one.”

Keep reading

When galaxies collide

AN: I wrote this some time ago and felt like sharing it because it’s not too bad. While reading, please keep in mind that English isn’t my first language, so  excuse any possible mistakes.


The way he looks at me is irritating.

His eyes never seem to leave me. They’re following me through the room, a solid blue wall. Blue as crayons. They’re extraordinarily ordinary.

I try not to let him notice how he unnerves me. I try to ignore him and his stupidly blue eyes. His tawny skin and his unruly curls. Everything about him is golden and so bright that it looks like he belongs in space. Somewhere far away. Definitely not here.


This boy looks like he belongs to another planet. His skin is an indescribable mixture of reds and browns and it shimmers like pixie dust. His hair is dark and way longer than mine and it falls over his shoulders, framing his face, making it look at least a bit softer. Because his cheekbones are sharp and his eyes are hard and he scowls all the time.

He should make me feel uncomfortable. I should be scared by him.

But I’m not.

He seems to be drawing me in. I can’t stop watching him, how he moves around. He talks to no one and no one talks to him. Does he feel alone? It seems like there are galaxies between me and him.


I finally know where he belongs. He’s the sun that is missing in the galaxy I call my life. He completes my very own sun-system. He still hasn’t stopped looking at me.

And when I hear people slowly leaving the room, I decide that I should be brave once in my life.

I turn and look at him. Right into his ridiculously blue eyes.

My breath catches and for a moment, he is all that I can see. He’s the centre of my everything. He’s every nice thing I can think of.

But then he looks away and the moment is broken.


His grey eyes seem to have unsettled something deep inside of me. Something I was afraid do wake, something I never wanted to think about. He’s still holding my gaze and it hurts, looking at his face hurts. It makes me think of how much I want to talk to him, screw his intimidating looks.

So I break the eye-contact.

Then I stand up.

And start to make my way towards him.


Within seconds he’s in front of me, making my stomach turn. I can’t name the look on his face. Is he angry because I stared at him? Shouldn’t I be the one who’s angry?

But then he interrupts my thoughts by saying: “You don’t talk to anyone.”

It surprises me. It’s not even a question, it’s a simple statement. What am I supposed to answer to this? I don’t want to scare him away, he’s even more beautiful up close.

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

Oh great.


He spits out a rude answer, but I can’t really blame him, since my question was probably the least eloquent thing I could have said.

“Well,” I stutter, trying to regain my composure. “I just wanted to ask if I could sit with you.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes and I hope that he’ll say yes.


This boy is going to be the death of me. Now that he’s standing right in front of me, I can see that his face is sprinkled with tiny freckles. There’s an edge of one of his teeth missing, which makes him look way younger. He’s making me feel sick. But the good kind.

He asked if he could sit with me and if I weren’t so absolutely incompatible with human beings, I would have said yes by now. But I still haven’t answered his question and he’s still looking up at me with his blue eyes, chewing on his plump bottom lip.

Before I can think to much about this, I feel my mouth opening.


“If you insist,” he mumbles and for a moment, I’m worried that he’s irritated by me and is just surrendering because he wants me to stop talking. But then he shoots me a half-smile and it feels like gravity has lost its hold on me.

I smile back at him, already planning to tell Penny all of this as soon as I enter our flat. Although he seemed so far away at first, almost like he lived on another planet, I can’t feel the galaxies dividing us any more. Now we’re circling around each other. As if he’s as focused on me as I am on him.

But then he frowns.


He beams at me and I can’t help but try to memorize all of his expression, in case I’m not seeing it again. Or at least, not directed at me.

We’re both silent for a moment, standing in the middle of the empty room and staring at each other. Then I remember that I don’t even know his name.

His face falls when I stop smiling and I immediately want to comfort him, tell him that I didn’t change my mind, that I’m just thinking, but I’m not exactly known to be empathic in public.

“What’s your name?”, I ask, cringing internally at how emotionless my voice sounds.

He relaxes, ruffling his curls as his smile returns.

“Simon. Simon Snow.”

Oh well, at least we both have ridiculous names.


He grins when he hears my name, and I immediately feel self-conscious. My name is one of the things I will never not be embarrassed about.

I have already opened my mouth to say something when he cuts me off.

“Don’t worry, I’m not making fun of you. Would be a bit hypocritical if you consider that my name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. You can call me Baz though.”

I snort, feeling relieved. His name is as extraordinary as he is and even though there’s no way I’m going to remember all of it, I still like it. It sort of fits him.


My stomach does a somersault when Simon says, “We match, I guess.”.

We do not match, we absolutely don’t. But that doesn’t stop me from trying.

Strawberries & Blueberries

H2OVanoss au ft. Jon as the guy a little lost in life and Evan as the cute neighbor who just wants some blueberry Pop-Tarts. (Guest starring: Ohmtoonz, as the background couple) 

Hope you all enjoy! :)

He doesn’t know how it happened, but Jon’s pretty sure he’s not ready to live alone, have a place he could call his own, or deal with the independence that comes from being an adult.

Sure, he’s reaching that 27 year mark, and maybe he’s technically been rooming with Luke for a good three years, but, this is different, on a whole other wavelength of being not ready.

Keep reading

Saphael Fanfic Rec 2.0

A Saphael Fest.

More writing goodies from amazing writers.

As always, if you know any of the authors and tag them, that would be very much appreciated

A Daisy instead of a glass shoe by @soft-saphael

Tumblr prompt: runaway prince!simon and commoner!rapahel

Two weeks from his coronation and three from his wedding to Princess Isabelle of Idris, the Prince of New York found himself on a park bench in Brooklyn. His face buried in the palms of his hand as his phone continued to ring.
Deep breaths. Deep breathes. Deep- the phone is laying in pieces on the concrete walkway in shattered fragments.

“You’re a little far from the palace” A slightly accented voice said, from out of the corner of his eyes Simon saw black leather.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh I’m sorry your highness, I apologize for not bowing” The boy snorted.

“Please, just leave me alone” Simon huffed tiredly.

A First Date (Kind of. Almost.) by SnogboxesAndChips

Simon is always looking for excuses to be near Raphael. When he finally finds a suitable excuse, he walks in on Raphael doing something that Simon would have never thought Raphael would do. He was cooking.

And every road you take (will always lead you home) by @woodenhallslikecaskets

For Raphael’s 55th birthday Magnus gifts him a portal that leads to 1956.

Brooklyn, NY 1956: he meets a beautiful boy by the name of Simon Lewis. They’ve never met before but Raphael feels like he could love him. They could fall in love.

Break of the light by @makehomesofhumans

Simon’s eyes sparked to life as he was being dangled over the edge of a building. He sighed, because that was just his luck.

But who would love a monster, anyway? By @spendeonswithyou

As he learns later, loving Simon hurts. It’s making his dead heart want to beat again, destroying the remaining bits and pieces of his soul.

Or the Soulmate AU in which you can feel your soulmate’s pain.

Customer Satisfaction by kuro1neko2kun

‘You’re the customer and you get back at me for all the times I’ve spelt your name wrong by mispronouncing my name in increasingly horrible ways’ AU

Darling, you’re all I need by @anjawritingsx

Simon and Raphael are happy together, that is until Simon forgets their 8th year anniversary.
Raphael is left heartbroken and Magnus and Alec try to pick up the pieces.

Does that mean you’ve a really bad crush on me too? By milleniumlint

Simon wants Raphael to understand he has feelings for him but he’s not so obvious like he thinks he is.

Dreaming of You (endlessly) by Nubian_Reese

Corazón—His heart. He loves Simon so much it hurts. His beauty, his optimism, it’s a sea of good and Raphael does nothing but dive right in. And he is not ashamed, because Simon is a gift. God’s gift, and sometimes Raphael can’t believe what they have together is real, but when Simon leans down and kisses him, hands running through each other’s hair skimming down backs, and gripping hips, Raphael lives in every sense and knows that this is real.

Flirting 101 by TrickyVicky3

Raphael sighs, shaking his head more to himself than anything else as he reaches down for Simon and pulls the other boy up again. “That will be all for today” he pulls the bottom of his tank top up, using the material to wipe away sweat, unaware of Simon’s gaze tracking over his abdomen. “You did good but not good enough, even if you pinning me down was kind of hot”

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Knot because I love you, just because I care

A drabble for @nickillian cos she loves fake!married tropes


*unbetad,sorry for the awful title 😂

“You know you have to actually lift the glass to your lips to drink the vodka.”

Emma lifted her gaze from the glass of icy spirit and smiled.

“Funnily enough I had heard that before, Jones.”

“And here I was thinking that I had stumbled upon something revelatory.”

He gestured to the seat beside her and she nodded, waiting until he ordered a drink.

It was Tuesday and The Rabbit Hole sports bar was just about as empty as she had ever seen it. She was glad of it - the last thing she needed now was to deal with a bunch of drunks even if she really wanted to get drunk herself.

His order came, alongside another vodka for her, and he paid with a crisp ten pound note before settling into the stool beside her.

“So, Swan, what brings you to Wimbledon’s only American sports bar tonight?”

He grinned, his smile bright despite how tired he looked.

“I could ask you the same,” she replied, nodding at what remained of his business attire - tie askew and shirt sleeves pushed up.

“I asked first,” he quipped, “But since you must know today I got a new job and I thought it appropriate to celebrate.”

“The one at Graham’s company?”

He nodded. “Yep, you are looking at the new deputy marketing manager for Mills Media.”

Emma smiled. She knew how much Killian had wanted a promotion and it just wasn’t happening in his current position. At least someone had good news that day.

“That’s great,” she sighed softly, staring longingly into her vodka, before quickly adding, “My visa renewal was declined today.”


Keep reading

when he looks away

huge, huge thank you to by beta best friend for reading this, encouraging me to write more and actually post some of it; and of course @roxanncweasley and @jiilys, my writing idols, for unconciously inspiring me with their own fantastic work;

He’s all you notice at this point.

In class, when your not long ago ‘best friend’ shots a parky comment at him. He wants to talk back, you can see it. He wants to, he needs to defend himself, his friends, those like you. He can’t stand him, it’s clear as day. That vein on his neck is pulsing like crazy. His hands are fists now. He picks his head up and you gasp at the rage in his stare. You sees his eyes shot fast in your direction and in a second they’re soft again and it’s like he suddenly acknowledges he’s in a classroom with twenty other students, all watching him, all expecting the fight. He slowly unscrews his hands and flats them on the desk; they’re trembling. You sigh. His head is lowered again, Remus wispering something rapidly in his ear. He nods in approval, the corners of his mouth twitch. Mr Binns goes on. A few minutes later you catch his eye and, he smiles.

In the library, on a table in the opposite corner of the room, where they’re sitting, trying to dull their laughs as Madam Pince walks by, all staring at a piece of pegament. You can’t really tell from here but it seem like whatever’s on it is moving. Remus is extending a hand and shaking his with a tempered smile that reaches his eyes. Pettigrew is clapping him on the back, grin splattered all over his features. Black grabs his face and mockingly tries to kiss him. He laughs and pushes him away, a sly smile on his lips and she can almost hear him say ‘not here pads, there are people watching! I know I’m so charmingly handsome, but please contain your urges!’. His smile is bigger than his face as he shrugs and explains something to the rest, hands gesticulating as he speaks. There’s so much pride in his eyes he looks like he might just explode. He gases at you and stops talking what looks like midsentence. The others turn around to look at you; Remus waves, Black winks playfully and Pettigrew just shakes his head. His smile doesn’t leave his face as he takes one of Remus’s chocolate bars and throws it at you. You catch it the last second, look at him and smile back. As he returns his attention to the pergament you can swear you see reddness creeping its way towards his face.

On the pitch on a sunny Friday afternoon right after classes while he’s loosening his tie as the eight of you sit on the freshly cut grass, Marlene in Black’s, Sirius’s, he demands, lap. Dorcas pulls out two bottles of vodka her sister mailed her and takes a bold sip from one, trowing the other at Peter. Screw dinner, you think. Screw the rules. Soon everyone is laying in a big mess of tangled legs and arms and hair, laughing at everything and nothing at all, forgetting for a moment. The late april wind blows in his hair, making it even messier than it is, making it look like he’d just shagged, making you want to shag him but really you’re just drunk, you tell yourself. His glasses are crooked and dirty but his eyes are sparkling and his smile is lopsided and he looks like he’s drunk on pure liquid joy, no diluent. You look at his long delicate fingers, knuckles bloody from Tuesday when the Blacks’ family owl delivered Sirius a letter and his fist almost made a hole in the commor room wall. You look at his sneakers, covered in mud as if he’s been running in the Forbidden Forest for two nights straight. You look at his muscles under the rolled sleeves of his shirt, his tan skin, the purple and blue veins underneath. You look at his eyes. They’re looking too. Shit, you think, but his eyes don’t tear from yours and you can’t make yourself look away. He’s all you can see and you both don’t notice that Marlene and Sirius are long gone, probably in the now empty boy dorm doing Merlin knows what or that Mary and Dorcas are kissing and giggling unnoticed a few meters away or that Remus and Peter are now walking around the pitch trying to clear their heads and be at least a little bit responsible. No, all you notice is each other and the stars in his eyes and the flowers in you hair and your love. And sure, it is a little reckless and a little dangerous, and there really isn’t anything, but it’s okay cause you won’t remember it tomorrow morning, right? All of a sudden something bubles inside of you and your smile turns into laughter because how could i be so oblivious and there’s clearly something, there’s everything and you realise why your stomach is always in knots when he’s around and why your troat tightens when he gives you one of his shit eating grins and of course. Of course I’m in love! He’s starts laughing next to you on the hard ground too and your eyes fill themselves with tears as the sunset sky opens and swallows you both.

In the common room, in the little hours, when even the wind is silent, the fireplace is long cold and you’re sitting alone in the armchair next to the window, trembling, thinking how fucked up the world truly is. You hear his tiptoes on the old stone stairs of his dormitory carrying the history of so many other lives before yours. He yawns and stretches his lean arms over his head, but you don’t turn around. You hope he won’t notice you there, that he’ll simply get his forgotten charms essay from the table near the fireplace and go back to bed. ‘Lily!’ you hear him inhale shortly and then… he’s gone. You want him to be but you can’t help feel a little dissapointed after all. You’ve told yourself so many times not to think abot him that way, to accept it’s pointless, that he doesn’t love you anymore, and even if he did what’s the point, it would never work out, not now. But it’s still hard and you know it will always be. You feel a blanket around your shoulders and you abruptly turn around to face him. He’s looking down at you with worry in his eyes and a line between furrowed brows. You open your mouth to say something, anything. ‘Don’t.’ He’s wispering. ‘You don’t have to explain. I know.’ He sighs and sits on the armrest, looking out of the window. You turn back towards it and lean your head on his arm. ‘When did everything become so complicated.’ It’s not a question. More of a statement, an unheard plead for things to go back the way they were, to normal. He signs again, harder this time, louder. He seeks your green, green eyes, stares deep into them, almost like he’s at loss of words. Almost like he’s lost himself in them.

You’re breathless.

celebrated-as-the-rebel-kind  asked:

TOP TEN BUFFY SUMMERS SCENES ON BTVS (I know there's obviously more than ten so don't feel bad about only *listing* ten. ;)

Oh I love this! Buffy is my favorite character OF ALL TIME, so naturally I could list most of her scenes, but I managed to narrow it down to 10…plus 5! Okay I am just that pathetic that I needed 15…and a few honorable mentions. I’m sorry! I will just put them in chronological order, because ranking them would probably kill me!

1. Prophecy Girl - Buffy’s speech to Giles “Giles. I’m sixteen years old. I don’t want to die.” We had seen Buffy grapple with the balance of being a teenager and being The Slayer, but up until this point, it hadn’t been driven home completely. This scene broke it all open. It put in perspective just how young this girl is and how she was forced to give up her childhood and now, her LIFE. An extension to this scene is the way she marches off to face The Master, despite knowing she will die and then the bad ass bantering way in which she defeats him. “You’ve got fruit punch mouth.” “I may be dead, but I’m still pretty”

2. Becoming Part II -  The fight between Buffy and Joyce, “No, it doesn’t stop! It never stops! Do you think I chose to be like this? You have any idea how lonely it is? How dangerous? I would love to be upstairs, watching TV or gossiping about boys or… God, even studying! But I have to save the world. Again.” The weight of the world is on Buffy’s shoulders, as it always is, and she is pretty much losing everything. This showdown with her mom was long overdue, and the absolute heartbreak of knowing that this young woman has to endure even more suffering to save the world is unbearable. I have to include the other pinnacle moment from this episode as a Buffy fan…when Angelus is taunting Buffy, “No weapons… no friends… no hope. Take all that away and what’s left?” and Buffy simply replies “Me.” THAT is Buffy Summers. No matter what the circumstances, she is there standing between us and the forces of darkness and nothing can break her.

3. Helpless - Buffy is being drugged by Giles on behalf of The Watchers. Throughout the episode we get a chance to see how terrifying her job is without any special abilities. The moment she marches in to save her mother from a viscous, rabid vampire, with no super powers to speak of, gives me chills. She is so scared, but she is Buffy. That means she puts aside her fear and fights. It was an incredible moment which proved that Buffy did not need super powers to be a hero. It is her heart and her mind that made her strong.

4. Earshot - The speech Buffy makes to Jonathan in the tower. It was so incredibly poignant and relevant to teenagers and all humanity, really “My life happens, on occasion, to suck beyond the telling of it…sometimes more than I can handle. And it’s not just mine. Every single person down there is ignoring your pain because they’re too busy with their own. The beautiful ones, the popular ones, the guys that pick on you, everyone. If you could hear what they were feeling: the loneliness, the confusion…it looks quiet down there. It’s not. It’s deafening.” It is so profound, and it makes us all realize that we need to look beyond the surface and empathize with others and understand that we aren’t the only ones to shed tears.

5. Family - The way Buffy sticks up for Tara in this episode makes me cry every single time. Tara had just screwed up. She made a mistake that could have cost the scoobies their lives, and prior to that Buffy had already been failing to click with or really understand Tara. But she understood her in that moment. She saw a woman who was desperate to fit in and be “normal”, she saw someone who, while being different, was fighting similar demons as the rest of the scoobies. She saw a woman who was being abused by her own blood, and she stood up for her. She welcomed Tara into the family with open arms, “You want her Mr. Maclay? You can go ahead and take her. You just gotta go through me…You heard me. You want to take Tara out of here against her will? You gotta come through me.” Mr. Maclay: “You people have no right to interfere with Tara’s affairs. We are her blood kin. Who the hell are you?” Buffy replies “We’re family.” This is just so moving. Family isn’t about blood. It’s not what you’re born with. It’s what you make. Buffy is the greatest friend, and given the compassion and understanding Tara shows for Buffy when Joyce dies and when Buffy comes back from Heaven, you can really see how much this moment meant to Tara.

6. Checkpoint - The scene where Buffy confronts The Watchers Council, “I’ve had a lot of people talking at me the last few days, everyone just lining up to tell me how unimportant I am, and I finally figured out why…power. I have it. They don’t. This bothers them. Glory came to my home today…just to talk. She told me I’m a bug, I’m a flea, she could squash me in a second. Only she didn’t. She came into my home and we had what in her warped mind probably passes for a civilized conversation, Why? Because she needs something from me. Because I have power over her. You guys didn’t come all the way from England to determine whether or not I was good enough to be let back in. You came to beg me to let you back in, to give your jobs…your lives…some semblance of meaning.” Buffy coming to the realization that everyone was trying to cut her down because they were threatened and intimated by her power is amazing. She owns it so well.

7. Blood Ties - The scene in the hospital with Dawn, “It’s Summer blood. It’s just like mine. You ARE my sister.” The way Buffy assures Dawn that she IS her sister, and that she loves her, not because of her duties as The Slayer, but because of the connection she feels to her as a sister. Dawn didn’t have to start out as her family, but like with Tara, we see that origins are not something that concerns Buffy. Family is made not born.

8. Intervention - The final scene with Spike. Buffy pretends to be the bot to find out if Spike told Glory about Dawn. When she realizes he would rather die than reveal this secret, she understands for the first time that his love for her is in fact real, and she takes pity on him with the gentlest of kisses. “What you did for me and for Dawn…THAT was real. I won’t forget it.”, and she doesn’t. It is Spike that she continually trusts to protect Dawn in her absence, above all others. As a Spuffy shipper, this scene obviously is one of my favorites, but as a fan of Buffy it ranks up there too. Buffy values loyalty and with Spike she ends up finding the greatest partner in her fight. Side note: The revelation that death is Buffy’s gift and that she is so full of love that she pulls away from it are also really amazing.

10. The Gift - The whole episode really. “But you’re just a girl.” “That’s what I keep saying.” and the staunch way she fights Giles over Dawn when he dares to say Dawn is not her sister, “You’re right. She’s more than that. She’s me. The monks made her out of me. When I hold her…I feel closer to her than… It’s not just the memories they built. It’s physical. Dawn… is a part of me. The only part that I…” then later Giles says that everyone in the world will die, including Dawn, and her response is the most perfect thing, “Then the last thing she’ll see is me protecting her.”. I also really love her later speech to Giles, “I sacrificed Angel to save the world. I loved him so much, but I knew what was right. I don’t have that anymore. I don’t know how to live in this world if these are the choices, if everything gets stripped away. I don’t see the point. I just wish that…I just wish that my mom was here.” In Becoming, Buffy was able to kill Angel. It was black and white, but now the world is gray, and she is asked to kill an innocent, an innocent that she loves more than she has ever loved ANYTHING. Then of course we have the sacrifice and the speech, “"Dawn, listen to me. Listen. I love you. I will always love you. But this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles… tell Giles I figured it out. And, and I’m okay. And give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn, the hardest thing in this world… is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me.” Buffy never hesitates to give her life. It’s who she is. I don;t think any scene on the series makes me cry as much as this one. The beauty that is Buffy Summers… The amount of love in her heart and the way she gives it all for the people around her… I’m going to cry now just talking about it.

11. After Life - When Buffy reveals the horrible truth to Spike, “I was happy. Wherever I was… I was happy… at peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time… didn’t mean anything. Nothing had form. But I was still me, you know? And I was warm. And I was loved. And I was finished. Complete. I - I don’t understand theology or dimensions, any of it really… but I think I was in heaven. And now I’m not. I was torn out of there. Pulled out, by my friends. Everything here is hard and bright and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch. This is Hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that. Knowing what I’ve lost. They can never know. Never.” The heartbreaking revelation that this hero who sacrificed herself was ripped out of the ultimate happiness and thrown back into her world of violence and death is just so painful, and it sets up the season and Buffy’s depression, perfectly. And of course, being Buffy, she is still trying to save her friends from the massive guilt and regret they would feel for what they did. Obviously, it really wasn’t Buffy’s time, and she recovers and finds the desire to live in the world again, but the pain of loss in this scene is just so intense.

12. Conversations with Dead People/End of Days - Getting to the root of Buffy feeling both superior and inferior, “I feel like I’m worse than anyone. Honestly, I’m beneath them. My friends, my boyfriends. I feel like I’m not worthy of their love. ‘Cause even though they love me, it doesn’t mean anything ‘cause their opinions don’t matter. They don’t know. They haven’t been through what I’ve been through. They’re not the slayer. I am. Sometimes I feel…this is awful…I feel like I’m better than them. Superior.” I always love the scenes when Buffy discusses what it means to be The Slayer and the complexities of it. I couple this one with the scene between Buffy and Faith in End of Days when Faith says “Me, by myself all the time. I’m looking at you, everything you have, and, I don’t know… jealous. Then there I am. Everybody’s looking to me, trusting me to lead them, and I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life. And that’s you ever day, isn’t it?” to which Buffy replies “I love my friends. I’m very grateful for them. But that’s the price…being a slayer.” Faith finally grasps the severity and pressure that rests with Buffy, and is such an honest scene and a great finale for their relationship.

13. Bring on the Night - The end speech…it is seriously one of the most epic scenes ever written. Buffy was beaten to a pulp, nearly killed, and she walks down those stairs and she faces the group with the most resolute conviction and strength that I have ever seen on my television screen and says ” I’m beyond tired. I’m beyond scared. I’m standing on the mouth of hell, and it is gonna swallow me whole. And it’ll choke on me. We’re not ready? They’re not ready. They think we’re gonna wait for the end to come, like we always do. I’m done waiting. They want an apocalypse? Oh, we’ll give ‘em one. Anyone else who wants to run, do it now. 'Cause we just became an army. We just declared war. From now on, we won’t just face our worst fears, we will seek them out. We will find them, and cut out their hearts one by one, until The First shows itself for what it really is. And I’ll kill it myself. There is only one thing on this earth more powerful than evil, and that’s us. Any questions?“ If that doesn’t make you love Buffy…if that doesn’t give you serious chills, there is something wrong with you.

14. Showtime - When Buffy faces off with the ubervamp (Chaka Khan lol) to teach the whiny potentials a lesson…it is pure genius and just SO Buffy Summers “I’m the thing that monsters have nightmares about.” All Buffy needed to find was her confidence. Whenever she sets her mind to something, she does it. It’s not about the weapons. It is all in her strength of conviction. She decided to slay the ubervamp to make a point, and she did just that. “Here endeth the lesson.”

15. Chosen - Buffy shares the power of The Slayer with all potentials. It is such a lovely and empowering moment seeing so many women finding their strength and rising up. The plan Buffy concocts and the way it is executed is so amazing. As is the way she builds the confidence of Willow and of Spike, who play key roles in the fight. The way the battle shifts according to Buffy’s state, when she is down her side starts losing. But when we see her rise up and tell the first to get out of her face, the entire game changes. Of course the moment she finally admits to herself and to Spike that she loves him, as their hands clasp in flames while she both cries and smiles is just poetry. The revelation is so true and so beautiful. And there is her smile at the very end, at the realization that she no longer has to carry the weight of the world anymore. Perfection.

So yeah, I managed to leave off a ton of scenes I love like the way Buffy chooses Xander/Willow as her friends in Welcome to the Hellmouth when she could have picked the in crowd. There is the wonderful scene in The Prom when her peers recognize her for everything she does or the way she finds her strength again in season 4’s “The Freshman”. There’s also the moments of her teaching Dawn and the potentials how to fight and the way she goes into the vineyard to face Caleb alone in Touched. Not to mention the scenes in season 7 where she champions for Spike now that he has a soul or the scenes in Wrecked/Same Time Same Place where she accepts Willow despite her magic issues, first helping her with the addiction then literally giving Willow her power to help her heal. Gosh there are just so many. This is why Buffy Summers is by far the most brilliant, amazing, loyal, strong, courageous, and complex character ever created.

anonymous asked:

I've always been confused about a certain bellarke moment: when they are reunited again in S2 in the caves and hug everyone but eachother and they just stare. Like it's a very deliberate shot, him hugging O while never taking his eyes of clarke and vice versa. I just don't know what they (Jason etc) are trying to convey here? Help

Oh yes, I LOVE that moment. You’re right, it was an extremely deliberate shot, so multifaceted. There are so many layers to what is going on in that scene and I just absolutely am in love with that moment.

I find that lots of Bellarke shippers like to romanticize that scene a lot and while, yes, I agree that its a great shot, I don’t agree with a lot of interpretations that make it up to be this big epic, romantic moment. I understand from one end people seeing Clarke’s relief at seeing Bellamy and thinking “these idiots are in love” but for Bellamy, I think its a lot more complicated, and I’ll get into that.

I’ve always read Bellamy’s look in this moment to be one of wariness and uncertainty. He doesn’t know where his relationship with Clarke stands and he’s trying to make some sort of assessment, grab on to any sort of piece of evidence to suggest to him what - exactly - he’s dealing with. Don’t forget that the last time he was face to face with Clarke, she had just taken on the mantra “love is weakness”, in turn pushing him away and acting pretty cold. She told him that his mortality was “worth the risk”, essentially pulling back on the words she said to him earlier expressing that she couldn’t bear to lose him. However, the last time he talked to Clarke was on the radio, she was very relieved to hear from him and asked him if he was all right.

Bellamy, in this moment, doesn’t know what to expect from Clarke. He knows that she’s been going through some shit ever since Finn’s death, but he doesn’t know what version of her he’ll find. Is this the Clarke who turned her heart to stone and told him he was expendable? Or is this the girl who ran into his arms upon hearing that he was alive and sounded so relieved to hear his voice over the radio?

Bellamy was on the receiving end of a lot of mixed signals from Clarke in Season 2 and I think it has left him a bit wary in this moment.

Everyone hugs, Bellarke doesn’t. The tension is noticeable, the absence of contact in contrast to their first reunion this season is apparent. Something is different. You mentioned that Bellamy never took his eyes off of Clarke while he was hugging Octavia. Bellamy doesn’t focus on Octavia because he knows where their relationship stands in this moment; he doesn’t know where his relationship stands with Clarke.

Clarke asks him if he has a plan, his response is a bit cold - “not really”. The Grounders were their plan. Lexa was their plan, so he’s wondering where the hell are they. What happened? He depended on Clarke. The Grounders betrayed them. Thinking back on it, I actually see this moment as a huge piece of the foundation of Bellamy’s character arc going into Season 3. He knows something happened, something with the Grounders, that screwed the Sky People over; him seeing Clarke and Octavia - alone - is just evidence to show that, as it turns out, the Grounders betrayed them after all.

And where does Clarke come into this? Well, she was so adamant about trusting them, working with them, and Bellamy never did.

I saw hints of the bitterness towards Clarke in Bellamy’s eyes that he never allowed himself to give into until 3x05. He was hurt by her shutting her emotions down and pushing him away so harshly. He probably knows from his inside-man act that most people didn’t escape Tondc and is wondering why. He was frustrated that Clarke trusted the Grounders, trusted L.exa, only for them to betray them in the end anyway. He worked so hard, went through hell trying to save their friends. And in this moment he fears it was for nothing.

But Bellamy’s emotions are complicated. Because he may be bitter and uncertain and wary but he’s still relieved to see that Clarke is alive and okay, and still here. This is his person, after all, and he cares about her. So he still walks over to her, checks in, and he doesn’t take out any of his frustrations on her - instead, he offers up another option. “We need to talk to Dante.” It’s not a solution, but it’s a start. And Bellamy and Clarke are still a team in this moment.

The feelings, however, those don’t get fully addressed until Season 3. They’re still present in this scene, just not expressed. It’s a great piece of setup for the conflict between Bellamy and Clarke in 3A, if that’s what the writers were going for.

Clarke’s emotions in this scene are a lot less complicated, in my opinion. Relief, desperation, hope, faith. Clarke depends on Bellamy, even though she tried to push him away, and she can’t deny to herself that she cares about him, that she needs him. They lost contact with Bellamy in 3x15, and she tried not to care, not to let it worry her, but it did. She’s happy to see him alive, and she’s also happy to have her partner at her side again. Clarke is desperate and on the brink of losing everything, and right in her moment of hopelessness, Bellamy shows up and gives her hope.

Because, together, they’ll be okay. Together, they’ll figure something out.

They always do.

It is a really great moment, and supremely underrated in my opinion. Thanks for bringing this to my ask box - hopefully you found my answer sufficient? Lots of interesting material to ponder, still, even from seasons ago.

These Hands

So before Toei makes or breaks this, here'smy take on Vegeta’s worry over baby Bra.


Not even the aches of a vigorous workout could satiate his worry.

Vegeta huffed as he dropped to his knees, sweat creating a pool between his fingers firmly planted on the ground. He had overworked himself again, trying to alleviate his unease the best way he knew how.

It still wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t turn off the thoughts that raced through his brain. Once upon a time, he was able to block out his conscience, silencing the voices by way of purge and inducing fear, getting lost in the madness that was Frieza’s army.

But he didn’t have that luxury now. And they screamed at him relentlessly, forcing him to cover his ear with his palms, hoping to regain his sanity.

‘What if you fail for good this time? What if she hates you because of your past? When the time comes, can she separate Vegeta the father from Vegeta the sinner?’

They paralyzed him; creating a heavy weight that threatened to burst the vessels of his stomach open. He was already a father, and even though he was anything but parental in the beginning of Trunks life, his son was happy and healthy and strong.

But that was Trunks. A boy Vegeta had the luxury of meeting before the babe even drew his first breath. He was able to see his strengths and weaknesses, get an idea of his personality, a perfect combination of wit and pride.

But she was different, she was new. She was the magnifying glass on the person he had grown to be all these years later. She wasn’t going to arrive in the midst of battle; her father wasn’t lost in his own selfish vices of becoming the strongest in the universe. He hoped she wouldn’t know the taste of battle, he prayed to Dende that her skin never became scarred with battle wounds outside of childhood scrapes. He wanted something different for her. If Trunks was his physical form of everything he pride himself in as a Saiyan, she was everything he wanted to become in a man.

In a father.

It scared him shitless.

He rose to his feet, wobbling from exhaustion, and turned off the simulated gravity. He felt relief wash over him as the chamber returned to normal gravity levels, his muscles singing in victory as they relaxed.

His stomach yelled at him vigorously, betraying the plea of isolation from his anxieties. A quick lunch couldn’t hurt, followed by a shower. And then back to the gravity room to work out his pent up aggressions.

He hadn’t seen Bulma really, other than to check on her swelling belly and deal with her hunger cravings. He didn’t know what to say to her. The day she announced that she was pregnant, he simply nodded and went to train. He may have become a good man, something he still struggled with, but he was still Vegeta. And Vegeta did not feel comfortable expressing his inner most thoughts.

And those thoughts were currently a tornado of happiness and fear, patronizing him completely until he was nothing more than a flame haired mess of emotions.

He made his way to the compound, the sun beating against his sweat slickened back, and let his mouth water to the promise of left over steak that had been cooked the night prior.

And he just about blew the whole damn place up when he saw the meat being devoured by the third class.

“Vegeta!” Goku announced, juices from the steak pooling around the indents of his mouth, “Bulma said you were trainin’ pretty intensely, I didn’t think I’d see you this early.”

Vegeta scoffed and crossed his arms. Bulma sat across from Goku, smiling at him with that hypnotizing grin of hers, the same one that led him to being a father twice now, and he relaxed the tense lines of his jaw. She was glowing, bathing in the pregnancy glow that radiated around her as she massaged her massive stomach. Had she been so ethereal when she was pregnant with Trunks? The Vegeta of yesteryear was too busy trying to ascend to pay attention, but this Vegeta noticed and he mentally declared her to be the most beautiful he had ever seen her.

“Why are you here, Kakarot? ” Vegeta tore his eyes away from the sun that called itself his wife and glared at the messy haired Saiyan. “And why are you eating my food?”

“I came here to see if you wanted to train with me and Whis, ” Goku replied, his mouth barely functioning around the food that stuffed his mouth. Vegeta grimaced. In all of the years of knowing him, he hadn’t changed his immature habits. Vegeta wasn’t sure he even minded as much, at least he could say that he was more mature in that aspect.

Vegeta looked over at Bulma, running his eyes down her plump frame. He shook his head immediately, gaining a raised eyebrow from his wife. “Now isn’t a good time for that, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Well I was goin’ to ask you, but that was before I noticed Bulma’s condition. I can’t believe you’re havin’ another baby,” Goku leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head, and whistled. “You sure have come a long way, Vegeta. Willingly havin’ another baby like that.”

“I don’t need you tell me that.”

“It’s interestin’,” Goku continued, his eyes innocently locking with Vegeta’s, “I was dead for so long before I found out about Goten, but we just clicked right away. Now you get to have a whole baby while you’re livin’. And you’re the strongest you’ve ever been while everythin’s peaceful. This new generation of kids are spoiled,” Goku laughed, wiping the corners of his mouth, “Gohan barely made it four before he ran into problems.”

“She won’t know any problems,” he retorted sharply, “not with me as her father and her brother as her protector.”

Bulma smiled radiantly, listening to her husband declare an unofficial promise to their daughter. Even she would be left in awe at the man Vegeta had grown to be. His dedication and strength had always enticed her, and it seemed like now he was using it for the greater good. Watching how he treated Trunks, both of them, had eased any doubts in her mind that he struggled as a father. He was good and she was grateful.

And she knew her little girl would love her father with the same admiration of her purple haired son.

“Well, thanks for lunch Bulma,” Goku stood, stretching and rubbing his stomach with delight, “it was pretty tasty. And Vegeta, maybe you and me can get some sparrin’ in after the baby comes? Maybe you and me can train her and Pan to be some strong Saiyan ladies.”

Vegeta smirked. Now there was a plan. “Better for you and I to do it. If it was up to Pan’s father, she’ll be in her twenties before she even ascends.”

“He he, ” Goku rubbed the back of his head and smiled, “ Gohan will get it together. I got faith in the guy. Speaking of which… ” Goku’s eyes narrowed in concentration, and then he pressed to fingers to his forehead before he vanished. Bulma shook her head.

“That guy. He still doesn’t know how to properly exit a room.” She ran her eyes over her husband, his delicious muscles bulging in his spandex suit. His face settled on the tiles of the kitchen floor, and Bulma stood to walk to him. He didn’t need to say anything for her to understand what was going on. He was nervous and anxious and wouldn’t tell her, couldn’t tell her. She let him train away his insecurities, hoping that he would be more at ease by the time the Princess of Capsule Corps arrived.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to go train with Goku and Whis,” she said warmly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “that’s not the Vegeta I know.”

The Vegeta she knows. He grit his teeth as he marinated on that statement. Of his family member so far, his son and soon to be daughter had not witnessed the man that he kept in the back of his mental closet. But she had. She watched as he ordered the killing of her boyfriend, experienced terror with him, and because of him, on Namek. She had slept with him, for reasons he still didn’t understand, and put up with his dismissal of she and their child, welcoming him back when he came home with his phantom tail between his legs.

Perhaps his daughter wasn’t the only one he needed to prove anything to.

“Hey,” she squeezed his shoulder, voice honeyed, “whatever it is you’re thinking about, just stop it.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

She watched his eyes dance over something disheartening and frowned. She had seen many of her friends go on with their lives despite their evil deeds, turning everything around for the sake of love, family and friendship. Did he not deserve the same? Did she not convey how much he was forgiven? Was Trunks not enough?

Perhaps, she decided, but maybe he needed a push.

She grabbed his hand, relishing in the fact that he did not snatch it back, and placed over her stomach. Vegeta immediately looked down at her gesture, her fingers intertwining with his.

“Hello baby, ” Bulma spoke to their child, “ this is your mama and your papa. Do you feel that? Papa’s hand right above your heartbeat? Do you feel how strong and protective his hand is? Because I do, princess, and I can tell you that you are in great hands. Your parents and your brother can’t wait to meet you, especially your papa. He’s so excited. ” She winked at his blushing face and continued. “Go easy on your papa, okay? He doesn’t know how us Brief women really are, your mama only gave him a taste. But your papa will protect you and love you, just like he’s done for me and your brother. We owe him so much, you know,” she looked up at him and smiled, but his face was still studying the smoothness of her belly.

Their hands jerked and finally his eyes bore into hers, wild with astonishment.

“Was that…? ”

“It was!” Bulma squeezed his fingers, pressing them gently into her skin as it moved around again. She heard Vegeta suck in a quick breath of air.

“Is everything…? ”

“ She’s kicking, hun,” she responded eagerly, easing his premature worry, “she’s saying hello and she hears us.” She reached up then and grabbed his face, lightly caressing his cheek. She ran her thumb over his bottom lip before replacing it with her mouth, lightly pecking it. “And most importantly she’s saying everything will be all right, papa. Your hands must feel comforting to her.”

Vegeta looked back down at the swollen belly. Was that true? Had his daughter really tried to convey that, or was Bulma reaching? The stomach kicked again under his palm, and he set his mouth into a tight line.

He wasn’t sure if he would be the father she needed or wanted. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to make her proud of him, or if he would royally screw things up.

But he was certain of one key thing.

These hands, these calloused hands that had seen too much, done too much, would protect her. He would spend every breath he had making sure his princess was safe.

He swore it.

maychorian  asked:

How about a surge of emotion causing a hug with Pidge and Hunk?

She’d finally done it.  It was done.  The next time they found a mining colony or a slave ship or a prison or any other of the godawful places her father might be, the scanner in her hand would be able to tell her, from the outside, whether he was there or not.  It would give a number of life forms, then break it down by known species, using the information she’d downloaded from the Castle’s mainframe.  Every living thing would show up, numbered and categorized, and if there was a human on the list, she could be almost certain it would be her family.  They would know the number of guards.  They would know the number of prisoners.  They would know everything.  And she would find her dad.

Hunk was excited too, sitting next to her in the away pod they’d borrowed to run this test, but she knew he couldn’t really be feeling what she was.  Not really.

She took a deep breath and turned the scanner toward the castle, initiating its first scan.

Nothing happened.  The scanner whirred, and beeped, and made a thunking noise, and left her with a blank screen.

No.  No.  She’d worked on this for months.  She’d hunched over her laptop, coding until her back was sore.  She’d cannibalized half the technology she owned, and some of the technology around her that she didn’t.  She’d custom-made parts when she had to.  It couldn’t be a failure.  It couldn’t.  She felt like she’d been punched repeatedly in the gut.  A squeak came out of her mouth, but she wasn’t sure a squeak of what.

“Whoa, there, Pidge,” Hunk said, “It’s uh - let me just -”

He took the scanner out of her hand and she didn’t stop him.  Why should she?  It was worthless.  She was worthless and her dad and Matt were still out there and she was never going to be able to find them.

“Hmm,” Hunk said, opening the back of the scanner with a tiny screwdriver he’d pulled out of his belt pouch.  'Hmm’ nothing.  It hadn’t worked.  Pidge tried to keep breathing even against the sudden flood of despair that made it seem easier, for the moment, not to.

“Ah, no, see, there’s the problem,” Hunk said, and she turned toward him, too distraught to really make sense of that.  Why did he sound so chipper?

“You’ve got these wires crossed,” he said, gesturing to something in her peripheral vision. “Easy to do when you’re working without a blueprint.  I told you an electrical diagram would help, instead of just doing it all out of your head.  Don’t you remember what Professor Montgomery said the first day of school?  Engineering is half math and half -”

“Wait - Are you saying you can fix it?”  Pidge asked, turning toward him as her brain finally caught up to what he was rambling about.

Hunk looked up from the scanner, beaming at her.  "Oh, yeah.  I mean, I think so.  I’m like 90% sure.  The signals just aren’t making it.  Your programming’s probably fine.“

After another moment, he slipped the cover back over the scanner’s inner workings and started screwing it shut.  Pidge shouldn’t hope it would work.  Not when it meant she might have to feel disappointed all over again.  But she couldn’t help herself.  Hunk was - well, he wasn’t confident, but he was never confident and maybe-”

“There,” Hunk said, handing the device back.  "It should work now.  I think.“

She bit her lip, staring at it for a moment.  No.  She couldn’t do it.  She shoved it back at him.  "You do it.  I can’t -” she cut herself off, not sure how to explain.

“Oh, yeah, I get that,” Hunk said, “You did a lot of work on it.”  It wasn’t the point, but it didn’t matter.  He’d taken the scanner back and was pointing it at the castle.  This time, it whirred, and beeped, and dinged.

There was silence in the pod for a minute, and then she decided she was ready to know.  Not knowing if it worked was even worse than being afraid it didn’t.  "What’s it say?“ she asked.

"5 life forms,” he read off, “2 Alteans, 2 humans, and 1 question mark.  That’s probably Keith.  We should probably work on that.”

She should feel happy.  Her brain told her she should be happy.  But there was still a ringing emptiness in her chest where the shock had been when she failed.  "It worked?“ she asked.  Before Hunk could answer, it sunk in, like just saying the words made them true.  "It worked!”

Her heart filled up like it might burst, and she flung herself sideways at Hunk, hugging him as tightly as she could in such tight quarters.

“Heck yeah, it worked!” he answered, hugging her back.  "You did it, Pidge!  Now we’ll be able to find your family in no time.“

She didn’t realize she was crying until Hunk started rubbing her back.  "Whoa, wait, whoa.  This is good, Pidge!  It’s a good thing!”

She buried her face farther into his shoulder.  "I know.“

"Oh, good.  You just stay right there then.  As long as it’s happy crying.  I can get behind happy crying.”

She laughed, and almost wanted to slug him in the arm, like she would if it were Lance, but not as much as she wanted to stay here, twisted around awkwardly, for a little bit longer and embrace the knowledge that she’d done it - that they’d done it.  She was going to find her family.

Sleep Talker - Bucky x Reader

Plot: Reader (Y/N) falls asleep during a movie and wakes up to find that she has talked in her sleep, revealing her feelings for Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1,963

Warnings: Some language, indications of smut, [slight] spoiler for Finding Nemo if you haven’t seen it in the last 12 years??

Originally posted by buckynsebimagines

Your name: submit What is this?

After nearly thirty minutes, Tony finally picked out the movie he wanted to watch for his mandatory weekly ‘Avengers bonding session’, as he called them. 

“This is the one, my friends, Finding Nemo.” Tony held up the movie as he walked over to the TV to insert it into the DVD player. You rolled your eyes, but made your way over to the couch and sat down on the edge to lean your head against the armrest.

Nat and Clint snuggled up in the chair to the left of the couch. Steve, Sam, and Bruce all found spots on the floor. Thor was still in the kitchen eating pop-tarts. Wanda and Pietro sat in beanbag chairs to your right. Tony sat on the other end of the couch and Bucky made his way into the middle, right next to you. On the outside, you managed to stay calm and collected, but on the inside your stomach was doing backflips.

You had been apart of the Avengers for nearly a year. Ever since then, Bucky has not only been a mentor to you, but also one of your best friends, and the person you have secretly been in love with since you were recruited to the team. And no matter how hard you tried to fight off the feelings you have for Bucky, it always seemed to make things worse.

There were many times that you two sat next to each other during movie or game nights, but for the last few weeks, you’ve found it extremely difficult to focus on anything but Bucky. When they were focused on you, his gray eyes would sparkle, especially as he would smile. You loved his eyes, and they were your favorite things about him, though you really couldn’t find anything you disliked.

Once the movie started, you realized how exhausted you were from the mission earlier that day. Your eyelids became heavy as you tried your hardest to keep them open to watch, but as the diver was scooping the little clown fish into a fish net, you found yourself dozing off.

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alistairs  asked:

57. a shot glass - Dettlaff/Regis

Is this even in character? idk ;A; I hope you like it anyway. Unwanted special shoutout to @velvettodraws. Please don’t take this the wrong way, I just really love your Katakan art (and everything else) and it inspired parts of this fic so I wanted to credit where credit is due. ^^’

Regis was drunk. Since he was, as he was ready to admit, a sober vampire who abstained from any and all blood drinking, with the singular exception when he had helped Geralt out, that was quite a feat. He had had to go the old fashioned way, which was more to say: the human way, since the old fashioned way for a vampire was of course drinking blood. All this and more Regis happily explained to his dear friend Dettlaff, who was, as it were, not quite only a friend, but very much dear to him. Dettlaff shot him a fond smile when Regis giggled and called him ‘lover’, which in turn made Regis just have to lean in and plant a kiss on that handsome mouth.

The peasant, the only one around at this time of night and in this alley, stared at them in shock and a moment later simply stopped as Dettlaff returned the stare after letting go of Regis.

“You should not be out tonight,” Regis told the man, straightening out his by now a little more ruffled appearance. The man made no sound, barely moved. A little delayed Regis realized that the man was mesmerized. It was the alcohol. Normally he would have realized it just when Dettlaff had used his ability. Screw Geralt for experimenting with him how to make a vampire drunk without needing blood, or rather screw himself for actually brewing the potions for it. The table back home had been positively littered with shot glasses before they had left on their nightly stroll through the city. Regis couldn’t even say anymore whose idea it had been. Probably his. Most likely his.

Getting drunk on alcohol wasn’t Dettlaff’s style.

“Compliment this man. His name is Regis,” Dettlaff ordered in a low voice that made shivers run down Regis’ spine. There was, Regis found, a little too much threat in his voice, considering the poor man was bound to relieve his bladder in fear of him as soon as the spell was wearing off. On the other hand, Dettlaff’s voice did things to regions of Regis, especially those below the belt.

Like a puppet on strings, the man turned to Regis with a dazed look. “You look very handsome, Sir Regis,” the man said and Regis let out a laugh as Dettlaff waved the man away.

“Not the words I would have used,” Dettlaff said miffed, but one corner of his mouth turning up in a careful smile when Regis threw an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a noisy kiss.

Read the rest on AO3

those big life moments

pairing: riley matthews & lucas friar 
word count: 1,864
prompt: “day four: argument - even the best of couples have their bad days, but not all arguments are all that serious” 
written for: rucas fanfic week 2017 
summary: big, life changing moments are supposed to be remembered forever. but riley has a feeling this one might be memorable for a whole different reason. 
notes: this fic originally was a really fluffy piece, that slowly because some more emo and a lil angsty, but it still ends on a positive note, i swear. it examines how something pretty minor can evoke a lot of emotions from people. i’m not 100% pleased with the results, but what can you do. also, this fic takes place in the universe of gotor (written by maggie @friarlucas) and my own fic, sign of the times, but is in the future. enjoy! 

“Lucas, I don’t really see what the big deal is?”

Riley watched as Lucas took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with her completely. She knew that there was going to be a conversation between them when he got home today, but she didn’t know that it was going to go down the way that it was so far.

There were multiple beats of silence between them, the only noise in the room being the hum of the refrigerator. Lucas was still refusing to meet her gaze and the longer there was a silence between them, the more and more nervous Riley became that she had thoroughly screwed up.

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anonymous asked:

Mmmmm my friend. My pal. My dude if I may be so bold. Please hook me up with some sweet, sweet novahd, I love the way you write them my guy. Fake Chop? Even better. But seriously some fresh boys in dumb love trying to take on the world together? Be it on YouTube or in the crime ring, I'd love seeing some more of your stuff. Also I love you even if you don't want to write any more. Okay kisses, bye. <3

Anon, you are the best (and sweetest) person ever, and for that, I give you this. Please excuse the spelling errors, It’s 5AM here and I’m tired as shit (I will look through this after some sleep), but I wanted to post this before going to bed. I hope you enjoy this and tired me thank you for your kind words.

From the beginning, since the first moment he met the smug bastard, Aleks knew he’d follow James anywhere. It hadn’t been a conscious decision on his part. He didn’t look at the guy and think, yes, this dude, he’s that missing piece of me I’ve been looking for; nothing quite like that, but he had this feeling in his gut that told him, no matter what went down, no matter how much they argued or disagreed, he’d always be one step behind James.

It’s James’ idea to start a crew. A fuck you to every other crew in Los Santos; a way to show that they could become something more than a two-bit assassin and a self-proclaimed thief.

Aleks has his doubts. He’s never been a part of a crew, and the last crew James had been with ended up leaving him bleeding out in a gutter. What if they screwed up? What if they ended up dead? What if they couldn’t find anyone to join their crew? What if they did and these people ended up betraying them? What if? What if? Question after question that kept him up at night and left his stomach in knots.

James, however, is determined, and Aleks can’t deny that he likes the idea of having his own crew once he pushes past the anxiety. He likes knowing that, if he can’t be there with James, he’d at least have someone there watching his back, even if he insisted he didn’t need the backup. He’s stubborn and reckless and unpredictable, and Aleks knows he’ll sleep better at night knowing the idiot will actually make it home in one piece.

Plus the grin James gives him when he agrees is an added bonus, but no one askes and he doesn’t tell.

Before James, Aleks had spent most of his time stealing shit for people. Paintings, jewels, money, cars; anything and everything as long as they paid up after the job. From a young age, he’d been really good at getting in and out of places without being seen; a living ghost.

He’d learned to pick pockets early in life, taught himself how to pick a lock, spent hours in internet cafes trying to figure out how to hotwire a car. He hadn’t meant to become a thief, he’d been more curious about the process than actually doing the act, but he figured why waste his talents? Every crime boss needed a good thief, and if he could make himself the best he’d always have a job.

He’d met James when his crew hired him to steal some documents from some high-security mansion. Aleks’ job had been to infiltrate the place, find the documents, and bring them back before anyone discovered he’d been inside the place. They gave him an hour; he’d done it in thirty minutes. The easiest fifty grand he’d ever made.

He hadn’t been planning on sticking around after the job, never really had before so why start now, but someone handed him a beer and another and another and soon he was pleasantly buzzed, sitting on a couch, listening to the radio playing some stupid pop song he had heard a hundred times.

Someone plopped down next to him, took his beer from him, and said, “Thank you.”

“Hey!” Aleks turned to the guy, reaching out to take his beer, but the guy held it out of his reach. “Give it back.”

“Nope.” The guy took a drink, draining the last dregs, and set the bottle on the rickety coffee table. “Want another?”


“Do you want another beer?” The guy jumped up, nodding towards the kitchen. He held out his hand, wriggling his fingers, waiting for Aleks to take it. “Come on, before there isn’t anymore.

Aleks sat there for a few seconds before sighing and grabbing the guy’s hand, letting him drag him to his feet. He offered him a smug smile, shook his hand, and said, “James.”

“More like Jackass.”

James snorted, dropping Aleks’ hand, and headed towards the kitchen. Aleks waited a few seconds before following him.

Their first job as a crew goes terribly. They’re not the best at planning, and the new dude, Trevor, is so green he’s probably never stolen anything before in his life, but he had been cheap and they aren’t exactly rolling in the dough right now.

Aleks takes a bullet to the shoulder, James ends up with a concussion, and Trevor gets lost trying to drive them back to the safehouse, but they’re alive. A little worse for wear but breathing.

When they eventually make it back to the safehouse, Aleks is woozy and James is moody and Trevor is frantically running back and forth between the two, trying to tend to their wounds, but he’s shaking so bad it’s any wonder he’s still standing.

Irritated and most likely on the verge of shooting Trevor, James fumbles with his cell, scrolling through what little contacts he has, putting it to his ear when he finds the right number.

“Brett,” he says into the phone. “Aleks is shot and this idiot-” he throws a dark look at Trevor who shrinks back, “-is about as useful as wet toilet paper.” James hums, listening to whatever Brett is telling him, and hangs up a moment later. “He’s on his way.”

“How does he know…?” Trevor starts, but James throws another dark look his way and his words falter.

“He’s on his way,” he repeats and Aleks nods, pressing harder on his shoulder wound, feeling a little bad for Trevor.

Just a little.

James’ crew betrayed him on a Thursday. It’d been an uneventful day on Aleks’ end. He’d mostly spent it with his cat and dog, watching stupid shit on TV, wishing someone would call for a job. He’d been willing to do anything, even a simple breaking and entering. Anything to appease the boredom that had settled around him; anything to escape daytime television.

When his phone rang, he practically pounced on it. Finally, somebody was putting him out of his misery. He answered the call without looking at the screen, happy just to be getting a job, only to nearly drop his phone when a soft voice said, “A-Aleks? A-Aleks, help me.”

“James?” Aleks stood up without really thinking about it, already looking for his keys. “Where are you? What happened?”

“H-help…” the line went quiet and for a moment Aleks actually thought James had hung up, but he heard his rattling breathing followed by a barely audible street name, and Aleks rushed out of his apartment.

He found James lying in a gutter, bloody and bruised and barely breathing, and his heart nearly stopped. Since the job he’d pulled for James’ crew, he and Aleks had hung out on and off, they were friends, and to see one of his friends like this had his blood boiling.

James had been hard to move, more deadweight than anything, but Aleks managed it and drove him to the nearest hospital.

The doctors had been surprised when James pulled through, but Aleks knew, deep in his gut, that he’d survived out of spite. He also hadn’t left his side the entire time, telling the hospital staff he was his brother so he didn’t have to leave.

When James finally woke up, he met Aleks’ eyes and hoarsely asked, “You here to betray me, too?”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Why?”

When James told him what happened, how his crew betrayed him, his voice had been void of any emotions, and afterward, when he told Aleks he was going to get his revenge, Aleks knew right then and there he was going to help however he could; no matter what it took.

Joe’s an old friend from James’ childhood. Aleks mistakes him for the sweet, innocent type until he sneaks up behind a guy and easily slits his throat. He’s never doing that again.

When James brings up the idea of letting Joe join their crew, Aleks has no problem with it. When he sees how buddy-buddy they are, however, he can’t deny the small bout of jealousy that settles in his gut.

He ignores it as best as he can, mostly because acting like a jilted lover is the last thing he wants to do, but one day, before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “Were you and Joe ever a thing?”

“What?” James’ head snaps up so quickly Aleks winces when he hears his neck pop. “Ow! Fuck!”

“Shit, dude. You okay?”

“No! Goddamn that hurt!”

“Lemme get you some ice.” He heads towards the freezer, digging around for the ice cube tray, closing the door, only to jerk back when he finds James standing directly behind it, dropping the tray.

“Fuck,” he mutters, stooping down to collect the ice scattered across the floor.

“Why’d you wanna know if Joe and I were a thing?”

“I don’t,” Aleks answers quickly, face red, eyes downcast. He picks up all the ice, pushing himself to his feet, and hurries towards the sink. “Forget I asked.”

“You thinking about fucking him?”

“What?” Aleks whirls around, nearly missing the flicker of anger that flashes in James’ eyes. “God, no! Why? Jealous?”

“Fuck off.” James stalks away and they don’t talk the rest of the day.

They had met Brett by accident. James wanted to try his hand at assassinations, something he figured would help fund his revenge plan on his old crew, but Aleks didn’t have any contacts that could help him. They poked around for a while, trying to find someone willing to take pity on a loud, abrasive man with a short fuse and a modest body count.

They found some small crew willing to pay if James had been willing to kill one of their enemies. He agreed, mostly because he got to kill someone, and they handed over a file.

He managed to take out the target, but he’d gotten caught leaving the building. Socked in the face, tossed into a trunk, and driven back to some warehouse. He didn’t exactly tell Aleks what went down, but he when he returned he’d brought Brett with him.

“What’s he doing here?” Aleks had hissed while Brett wandered around their apartment.

“He’s a fence,” James answered, watching Brett uncertainly. “Or so he says.”

“You really shouldn’t conduct business where you live,” Brett called from the kitchen. “Cops ever tracked you down, they’d have enough evidence to put your asses away for life.”

“What are you, our dad?”

“No,” Brett replies, returning to the living room, holding a mug of whiskey, “I’m your new business partner.”

Aleks doesn’t mean to fall off the ladder. One minute they’re escaping the cops, the next his foot slips on the rung and he’s falling to the ground. He blacks out the moment he hits the concrete, coming to a few seconds later to James trying to haul his ass off the ground.

“Come on,” he shouts, and Aleks is too dazed to fight him, allowing him to drag him to his feet. Everything tilts and he’s pretty sure he’s going to throw up, but he puts one foot in front of the other as both stumble out of the alleyway.

“Stupid, useless, fucking plan,” James complains, panting with the effort of keeping Aleks upright and them both moving. “Told you…. the fire escape…. was the worst idea.”

“‘m not the one ‘fraid of heights,” Aleks murmurs, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Chicken shit.”

“Fuck… you…”

Aleks loses time.

When he’s conscious again, he finds himself lying on a scratchy couch, a leather jacket draped over his shoulders. He hears someone talking quietly, but he can’t make out the words. He listens for another few minutes before losing more time.

The next time he wakes up, he’s more coherent, and he can hear snoring coming from somewhere near his feet. He sits up, grabbing for the couch’s arm when the room tilts, and murmurs, “Shit.”

“What?” the snores cut off and Aleks feels the couch jolt. “Aleks? You awake?”


A light snaps on and he shields his eyes from the sudden glow, holding his head in his free hand. He winces when someone gently probes his skull with their fingers, squeezing his eyes shut, breathing deeply through the pain.

“You know I can’t do stitches worth shit,” James says softly, moving his hand from Aleks’ head and resting it against his neck. “Probably should have risked getting Brett’s contact here, but we didn’t have time.”

“Did I fall off a ladder?” Aleks asks softly, shivering when James’ thumb brushes his pulse point.

“Yes, dumbass.”

“And you came back for me.” It’s the worst moment to tease James, he knows it, but he can’t help it.

“Fuck off,” James replies but with zero heat behind the words.



James set his old crew’s hideout on fire six months to the day of their betrayal. He dragged Aleks out of bed, handed him a ridiculous mask, and they left Brett passed out on their couch.

It wasn’t a long drive, but for Aleks, it felt like it took forever. When they pulled up to the old apartment complex, less inviting than the last time he’d been there, James got out of the car.

He ducked down, looking into the open doorway, and said, “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“Fuck off.” Aleks got out of the car, trailing after James, looking up at the place. There was no one inside, James had made sure of it. He’d told Aleks he wanted his old crew to pay, but he didn’t want them dead, and Aleks could respect that decision. They’d been a big part of his life, a second family to him; old feelings didn’t die overnight.

It doesn’t take long for the place to go up in flames. It’s old and probably not up to safety code. They stood there for a few moments, watching the fire before sirens broke them from their reverie.

“Let’s go.” James grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the car.

Once behind the wheel, James started the car and sped off in the opposite direction of the sirens. He drove for a good ten minutes before pulling over onto the side of the road.

Neither one said a word for a long moment, but Aleks finally sighed and said, “You okay?”

“Not sure.”

“It’s not every day you burn down your ex-crew’s hideout.”


“I’m sure, you know, in time, you’ll come to…”



“Shut up.”

They’re not an established crew, not by a long shot, but Aleks figures they have time. They’ll find their niche, find some allies, make some more enemies, but until then they’ll just have to keep moving forward and hope for the best.

And if moving forward meant walking straight into hell. Well, he’s been worst places.

lonewhitewolf488-deactivated201  asked:

Hello it's me again! I really need some Coran love, so I was thinking maybe that reader is in a secret healing pod and one day Coran finds it and it's his best friend and Allura's caretaker(for when the king was away). It's just a suggestion! You don't have to do it if you don't like it!! Hope your week is going well and Keep up the amazing work

BUT THIS IS REALLY CUTE, AND I’M SO SORRY IT’S TAKEN ME SO LONG TO GET TO THIS OMG. I had a lot to do, and still do, on this blog. But I didn’t forget! Thank you for being so patient with me!! > //<

Edit: this didn’t turn out how I wanted it to at all omg it’s hella more angsty than I intended??

– Ryan

It was always difficult for Coran to look down the corridor leading to King Alfor’s personal chambers. He didn’t dare think of how it felt for Allura – it must’ve been tenfold. Regardless, Coran decided it had to be done. He draws in a deep breath and musters up the courage as he walks the first steps in 10,000 years to the King’s quarters.

He’s met with the familiarity of when he walked the halls, back when he was an adviser, and Alfor was.. very much alive. He swallows in his hesitation, realizing he’s been standing in front of the double doors to the king’s room for some time now. He screws his eyes shut, and opens the door without looking. The sound of the door sliding out of lock plate and the squeaking hinges put him to times long ago. As if he would see Alfor in his room, with the same bright smile on his face as he plans new ways to avoid a conference.

Those are times he could no longer experience, and sorrow from that realization filled him as he looked into the empty room. He sighs once more, a habit he hoped he wouldn’t pick up. He walks into the room, looking for something in particular, to give to Allura. In her time of need, she would want to look back on the album the King had left for her.

But Coran was having difficulties remembering where it was. “Perhaps it was..? No, maybe it’s.. Is it here?” He prods through drawers and shuffles through desks and shelves, trying hard not to mess things up too much. As Coran felt along a shelf, his hand hit a panel. A loud hissing noise sounded from behind him, and he yelled out in surprise.

He had no idea what it could have been, for all he knew he’d activated a security system or a defense of some type. He turns around slowly, not quite sure what he was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn’t a stasis pod.

“What in the sweet burning solars is this..?” He mutters to himself as he approaches the pod. Upon further inspection, it reads the charts of an individual lying inside. 

Before he could even register what he’d just found, and the significance of it, the pod activates, releasing its occupant. Coran acts quickly, catching your falling form.

“But, my liege, you mustn’t-” Your words come out, the emotion behind them as if you’d been holding a conversation all this time. There’s a pang in Coran’s heart, and he holds you a bit tighter. You groan a bit as your mind clears up a bit.

“[y/n]??” He tries his best to keep calm, but he had been so sure that he and Allura are the last of the Alteans. Just to see you again, even hold you in his arms, had Coran’s heart swelling in his chest so much, he almost couldn’t breathe.

“C.. Coran?” Your groggy voice carries his name, and he almost loses it. He holds you tight against his body, “[y/n], I.. I thought we’d lost you too.”

Confused, you hold him as well. “But if you’re here.. and we’re no longer under attack, does that mean..?” You pull away to look back at the pod, and Coran confirms your suspicions.

“Just like us, you’ve been asleep for 10,000 years. Altea is…” gone. He left the word unspoken, but you knew what he meant. You bring a hand to your heart, feeling the loss of your people, your home. “And King Alfor…?” Coran just gives a solemn nod, and you can feel grief crash upon you. 

“But we haven’t lost anything.” Coran says, smiling at you. His hand comes to take yours, and he squeezes it gently. “In fact, I feel like we’ve lost nothing at all, now that you’re here, [y/n].” He means every word of it. 

You’d been by Allura’s side since birth. If Allura were to know you’d survived for this long, she’d have someone, next to Coran, who can share in her memories of her father, her childhood, and her home planet.

“Allura would be so happy to see such a familiar face.” He turns to the door, gesturing for you to take your first steps into a new lifetime. You smile at the mention of the princess, and memories flood back to you. You nod, and make your way to the door, still acclimating to your legs that have been out of commission for 10,000 years. Coran walks beside you, familiar with the old sleep chamber knees™, to catch you if you fall.

Yes, focusing on what cannot be done will not change the course of the future. You decide then, you will do everything in your power to continue serving the princess.

almiren  asked:

Hi there! Just wanna say I absolutely love your blog! I wanted to request headcanons of Akutagawa, Dazai, Atsushi, Chuuya, and Mori (if that number is too big then just the first 3 are fine! ^-^) with an S/o that is an artist, but when they get really into their paintings/drawings, they don't always pay attention to the boys?

(I did general artist HCs too, I hope that’s okay?)

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

  • For the sake of Akutagawa’s interior decoration, it’s probably a good thing you’re an artist. The only thing clothing his otherwise naked walls is your artwork. No matter what you paint, it’s going on display.
  • Painting is one of the few things Akutagawa compliments often and openly. Art is one of the things he appreciates most; the fact that such emotion and intensity can be displayed without words amazes him. Normally, Akutagawa wouldn’t be anywhere near as vocally encouraging, but he wants you to know how much genuine pleasure your work brings to him, so he praises everything from your brushstrokes to your color choices.
  • Secretly, Akutagawa slips your sketchbook in with his belongings if he’s going on a long trip for the Port Mafia. Looking at your drawings comforts him, and the lines winding across the page quickly become his solace when the two of you are apart. Even when he’s countless miles away from you, a mere glance at your sketchbook’s pages makes the distance seem a little less cold.
  • Akutagawa doesn’t want to pull you away from your hobbies, especially ones that he enjoys as well, so he’s a bit more reluctant to recapture your attention while you’re focused on art. Despite this, he still takes your sudden cold-shoulders a bit personally, even if they’re not intentional.
  • After awhile, Akutagawa will flat-out tell you he’s sick of you tuning him out. He points out that he really doesn’t have that much time to spend with you, what with all the Port Mafia business he’s got to handle.  If you still don’t pack up your supplies, his mood sours instantly. Akutagawa doesn’t dare start putting away your tools himself- he’s worried he’ll screw something up and you’ll be forced to scrap countless hours of work. Instead, he sits perhaps three feet away from you, glowering. He stays there, glaring, still as a statue until you’re simply too uncomfortable to continue. 

Dazai Osamu

  • Dazai praises your art exuberantly and often. There’s no one in the ADA who hasn’t been victim to him waxing poetic on your mastery of shading, the delicacy of your lines, the poetic beauty of your finished pieces. Often, he’ll google complicated artistic terms, just so he can compliment every possible thing there is to point out. Plus, he sounds smarter when he uses words like ‘chiaroscuro’ (even if it’s not always employed strictly in the right context).
  • Often, Dazai seeks out art exhibitions in Yokohama for the two of you to peruse. No matter the quality of the pieces shown, Dazai always pretends to be disappointed, bemoaning the fact that none of your art is there. Whenever you pick out a work that you like, Dazai sidles as close to it as the gallery attendants will let him. After scrutinizing it for awhile (he usually whips out a magnifying glass), he draws back, sighing dramatically and shaking his head. Dazai points out all the aspects that you could’ve done better, mourning the fact that this got into a gallery and your work remains displayed only in his home.
  • Depending on the mood he’s in, Dazai either is alright with letting you alone as you work on your art, or he simply can’t handle being ignored. If he’s in one of the latter moods, kiss any potential progress good-bye. When you focus on your art instead of him, he’s immediately scheming ways of drawing your attention back. All of his brain power is channeled into getting you to acknowledge him.
  • Dazai tries every trick in the book. He starts off with sweet little kisses, smattered on your cheeks and neck, but it only goes downhill from there. If you don’t give in instantly, he morphs into a whiny toddler. Dazai creates racket in the background, pokes at your cheeks, complains about how cruel you’re being, pouting face about two inches away from yours. Things only escalate the longer your will holds out. Once, he set off the fire alarm just so that you’d acknowledge him (he apologized, but he wasn’t really sorry. Setting it off was so satisfying, not to mention effective, he’s got a burning desire to do it again.).

Nakajima Atsushi

  • Atsushi’s simply amazed by your skills. Whenever you show him a finished piece, he beams, eyes shining with awe as he admires your work. Atsushi’s never been too talented with a pencil and paper, and your creative prowess is only one of the countless reasons why he adores you.
  • Unless you specifically allow him sneak peeks, Atsushi avoids your unfinished pieces like the plague. To him, something just doesn’t feel right about glancing at such a personal object in progress. If he does happen to notice an uncompleted project, he’s instantly apologizing to you, begging forgiveness for invading your privacy.
  • If you let him, Atsushi loves to sit back and observe as you work on projects. He admires the way your hands swerve across the paper, sweeping lines with unbelievable grace and precision. He also thinks your facial expressions as you concentrate are adorable. Every time your nose scrunches, or your tongue pokes out of your mouth in concentration, Atsushi can’t help but grin, delighted at your sheer cuteness.
  • Although Atsushi feels a bit slighted when you spend hours fine tuning artwork instead of hanging out with him, he would never dream of interrupting you. Your level of focus amazes him. As long as you’ve got a paintbrush or pencil in your grasp, Atsushi doesn’t disturb you, occupying himself with something quiet and unobtrusive. He doesn’t even want to cause accidental breaks in your concentration, shying away from all loud noise and distracting activities while you’re at work.
  • When you’re in your zone, Atsushi keeps close tabs on you. Meals are left by your workspace to ensure that you don’t forget proper nutrition, there’s always a full water glass somewhere nearby, and his inner mother comes out when it’s long past time to pack it up; Atsushi strongly ‘encourages’ you get enough sleep (ignoring him results in an indignant cold-shoulder; he’s trying to look out for your health and you brush him off?! Unacceptible), no matter how much progress you’re making

Nakahara Chuuya

  • Soon after he discovers you’re an artist, Chuuya’s constantly bothering you to paint something for him. He insists on paying commission. If you won’t let your recompense be money, he’ll settle for paying you in kisses. 
  • Instead of keeping a photograph of you with him, Chuuya holds onto a pocket-sized self portrait. Staring at your likeness, one that you created, brings a smile to his face no matter where he is. The picture especially helps when he’s called away on long Port Mafia tasks; glancing at the image every so often eases some of the loneliness of being apart.
  • Chuuya will love anything you create, but he’ll especially enjoy a scene of Yokohama at night, with the lights glimmering over the water, or a portrait of you two together. After letting you pick out a suitable frame, he hangs every art piece you give him somewhere noticeable; usually, it ends up decorating the walls of the front hall or dining room. Chuuya’s special favorites go in his bedroom. When you’re not with him, it helps ease his loneliness if the last thing he glances before he falls asleep is one of your artworks.
  • You have to be careful complaining about your art supplies when around Chuuya. He’s prepared to splurge any amount just so that you’re outfitted with top-of-the-line tools. Whenever he notices that your pencils are growing dangerously short, or that your paintbrushes are fraying beyond redemption, he immediately surprises you with replacements. They’re always an unbelievably expensive brand, probably foreign, and usually, your initials are etched somewhere.
  • Chuuya will never directly let you know that he’s annoyed when you’re ignoring him. He’ll try every trick in the book to coax you away from your art, though. Chuuya taunts you with the promise of your favorite meals, tries to rub your shoulders until you’re putty in his fingers, even hints at all the other, more… exciting things you could be doing instead. If you’re completely determined to work on your art, he’ll eventually let you be, but he won’t go down without a fight.

Mori Ougai

  • Mori’s absolutely delighted when he finds out your artistic ability. He encourages all of your hobbies, but this one, he’s especially enthusiastic about supporting. Mori’s no art critic, but he does enjoy browsing pieces. If you’re the one to create it, his interest only skyrockets.
  • To Mori’s absolute glee, Elise takes a liking to your art, too. Whenever you’re slaving away on a project, she’s probably got one she’s working on, too; she likes to pick out the same subject as you and compare when you both finish. Mori can never decide which is better when pressed for his opinion (usually by Elise). They’re both masterpieces, he insists, and there’s no competition between masters. Both artworks are hung up together, a plaque underneath them identifying the pieces as a collaboration between the world’s two greatest art masters.
  • Without telling you, Mori calls in a designer and sets up a massive studio for you to work in. The room is fully equipped with every art supply your heart could ever desire. It’s absolutely gorgeous; there’s windows overlooking gardens filled specially with all of your favorite flowers, and skylights littering the ceiling filter in moonlight when you want to work at night. Mori brushes it off as nothing, insisting that artists of your caliber need work spaces that measure up to their skills.
  • Generally, Mori leaves you be when you’re devoting all your attention to your art, although he’ll whine a bit. After he complains for a few minutes that he deserves your attention just as much as any canvas, he abandons the pursuit of your acknowledgement. Mori’s busy enough that he can occupy himself until you’re ready for him again. He’ll be mopey until you’re back in his arms, though.
  • There are, of course, exceptions; when Mori’s looking for sex, no amount of charcoal smeared on your hands is going to stop him. He’ll fuck you right against an easel if he has to. In addition, if Elise wants your attention, he’ll stop at nothing to fulfill her demands. Mori will ensure you give the girl what she wants.