in other news i am having way too much fun with these pens

anonymous asked:

Hi there :) I love your take on andreil and I wondered if you would write something about Andrew being jealous/possessive of Neil? I always read fics where it's Neil in this situation.. thank u!! :)

i come bearing gifts, my wonderful anon. this was way too much fun to write. thank you for your request! also on AO3

send me prompts :)

“Kevin called today just to say that he’s emailing me extra drills to add to my training regimen. Because apparently I’m getting slower? Whatever. I told him to fuck off, but like that’s ever worked before,” Neil concludes. Andrew makes a vague sound of agreement, but since they’re on the phone, Neil has a hard time judging just how uninterested Andrew really is.

“Anyway,” Neil says, “I met up with Travis after practice to work on plays. He actually knows his shit, you know? He has this idea to keep Wilson back so that Singh can have better control of the line, and it’s genius. Singh is obviously superior when it comes to—”

“Travis?” Andrew interrupts him, suddenly sounding a good bit more attentive.

“Yeah, Travis Patterson. The one from the University of Texas?” Neil waits for some kind of acknowledgement but continues anyway when he gets none. “He’s easily our best backliner, aggressive as hell but knows where to draw the line. And he’s smart too, like he actually thinks before he makes a move. Which is rare.” Neil rolls his eyes at the general state of talent in the Professional Exy League, even though Andrew can’t see him. If he could, he would probably just glare and call Neil a junkie, so maybe it’s for the best. “I think we’re meeting up again on Thursday to go over specifics, make sure everything will really click before I try to implement the switch at practice,” Neil says, almost to himself. He gets up from the couch and makes his way into his bedroom, opening the top drawer on his nightstand and reaching for the stack of orange sticky notes in the back corner. He jots down “Travis - Thursday @ 7:00” and heads to the kitchen to press it to the refrigerator until it holds.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Andrew asks out of nowhere.

“I have a home game on Saturday afternoon, and then that charity event thing on Sunday…” Neil says, and it almost comes out as a question. Andrew knows this already. His team is off this weekend, but Neil’s schedule is so booked that they agreed it wasn’t worth the five hour plane ride.

“I’m coming. I can be there Saturday morning. 9:35,” Andrew states.

“Uh,” Neil blanks a bit out of shock but decides not to question it. Like he would ever complain. “Okay, yeah. I’ll be there to pick you up.”

“Okay,” Andrew says, disinterested tone back in full force.

“Hey, are you—” Neil begins, but Andrew has already hung up.

It isn’t abnormal for them to hang up without a proper goodbye, but there is usually at least a bit more ceremony to it. Neil shrugs to himself, chalking it up to Andrew being Andrew.

Andrew fucking hates flying.

This is news to no one. So this spontaneous five hour flight with only two days of mental preparation may seem ill-advised. And it is. Andrew knows that it is. But he hits “confirm” to book it anyway, cursing himself every step of the way. But he could only listen to Neil go on and on about Travis for so long before he cracked.

Andrew knows exactly who Travis is. Travis William Patterson, 27 years old, 6’3” backliner from middle of nowhere, Texas, current starter for the Boston Hurricanes, #9. As a matter of fact, Andrew is looking at him right now. ESPN is showing Exy highlights from last weekend, and Neil’s team just happens to be up at this very moment.

The Neil on screen has just performed some ridiculous move that absolutely should not have ended with a goal but somehow did, and he is immediately met with high-fives from his teammates and an affectionate-looking hug from Travis. Andrew can most certainly be objective, and this exchange looks pretty platonic. But Andrew is also a man attracted to men, and he has to admit that Travis is good looking. Really good looking. He’s got that whole good ol’ boy, yes ma’am/no sir, homegrown Southern cowboy appeal. If you’re into that. Which Andrew definitely isn’t, and he doesn’t think Neil is either.

Andrew knows that Neil isn’t the cheating type, but that doesn’t stop Andrew from feeling just a little possessive over him. He and Neil have been together for eight years now, so Andrew probably has nothing to worry about. And yet here he is, watching several hundred dollars drain from his bank account thanks to this impromptu flight.

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April’s Featured Game: ARCADEA

GENRE: Fantasy, Adventure, Puzzle
SUMMARY: In the world of Arcadea, people can accomplish their dreams. How? Through video games of course! Everybody who lives in Arcadea has a special arcade machine they can visit in their dreams that lets them fulfill their strongest wishes. Whether it’s to go on an adventure, or make friends, or fall in love, or solve a mystery, or completely start a new life, there’s a game made just for them..
The game follows Maisie, a new arrival to Arcadea. She’s not very interested in all this gaming stuff; her only goal is to find an important person. But along the way, she can’t help but be roped into other people’s problems. She also can’t help that the arcade machines seem to glitch around her. A lot.

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

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anonymous asked:

Imagine there being major controversy because they found a photo or his sketchbook and it's "not what Captain America stands for" and the media goes crazy

“Morning, Sweetheart,” Steve hears Bucky mumble.

Steve groans. He knows that he’s slept later today than he normally does, but his phone’s been vibrating almost constantly for hours. What’s the point of being able to silence these phones if they still make too much noise anyway? Steve makes a mental note to ask Sam about turning off his phone’s vibration later.

“Come on, wake up.”

“Why?” Steve doesn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Because,” Sam says, his footsteps coming closer to their bed. “You left your sketchbook at that coffee shop around the corner.”

“And?” Steve’s left it there a few times before. He doesn’t see what the big deal is now.

“And someone stole it,” Bucky says. “Now there’s more than one drawing of Sam and I naked on the internet.”


The reporter that Tony arranges for Steve to sit down and be interviewed by is from a website called Buzzfeed. Tony tells him that it’s a relatively liberal news outlet, thus making it the best option for Steve to “explain why his sketchbook was filled with dirty pictures of Barnes and Wilson. By the way, nice job nabbing those two, Cap. Were those portraits size-accurate? Okay, shutting up now. Have fun explaining your gay superhero throuple to the Internet!”

“Captain Rogers, can you confirm or deny that the drawings in the sketchbook were done by you?” The reporter- Shannon, clicks her pen.

“Yes. I did them,” Steve answers, easy as anything.

Her eyebrows fly to the top of her forehead. She must have been expecting him to deny it all. “Oh, well,” she clears her throat, obviously thrown off guard. “Could you tell me why you picked James Barnes and Sam Wilson to draw? Were they aware of the fact that you were drawing them?”

Steve chuckles a little, unable to stop himself. He remembers the night that he drew those sketches very clearly. “They were aware.” It was Sam and Bucky’s idea, actually. Steve figures he should leave that part out. “I picked them because we’re all in a relationship.”

Shannon blinks at him. “You’re in a polyamorous relationship? With two men?”

“Does that seem hard to believe?”

“Uh-” she starts but Steve cuts her off.

“It’s not that complicated. When two people are interested in each other they date, correct? I don’t see why it’s any different because I just so happen to be interested in two people instead of one. In fact, I think I’m pretty lucky. I found two guys that love me and I love them. Two amazing guys instead of one, or none.”


Steve just cuts her off again and keeps talking. He doesn’t much care what anyone has to say about his relationship, but if he sees one more “Captain America: voyer!” or “Is a gay Captain America what we really need?” headline without at least getting to say his piece he’s just going to scream.

“Or is the fact that I’m bisexual surprising you? Bisexuality isn’t anything new, Miss.”

“I know that.” She’s starting to look a little ruffled. “But there are quite a few people who are upset by that along with the,” she makes a sweeping gesture, “polyamory.”

“I’m not sure why. I was bisexual in the 1940s just the same as I am now. Plus, I’m not sure how the number of people I’m dating affects my ability to do my job.” Steve gives her his best ‘Captain America’ smile. “Don’t you agree?”

“Uh, yeah.” The reporter manages after some stuttering. “I think you do your job just fine, if my opinion matters at all.”

Steve says, “thank you. I happen to think so too.” Then he stands and offers her his hand. She takes it and drops her pen in the process. “I think that about covers it. Have a nice day ma'am. I have a date that I refuse to be late to.”

Steve walks to the exit of the building without making eye contact with a single person. Sam and Bucky said they would leave for dinner without him if he didn’t hurry. When he gets outside, there they are. Sam’s leaning against the side of the building while Bucky stands in front of him, talking animatedly with his hands about something. They both spot Steve and eye him carefully, trying to gauge how the interview went by Steve’s body language.

Steve smiles and wraps an arm around each of them. “You guys ready?”

anonymous asked:

Hello, yes, hi, I recently found your art and account and I love what you do. I'm turning 14 in April and I've asked for a drawing pad, but I have no idea how to use one as of yet. Have you got any tips or anything? Because I've wanted to try digital art for a while and your art makes me want to even more lmao. Thanks! - B.A.


(I’m not sure what kind of comp you’re going to be using, so I’ll list for both.)

FIRST: Drawing Programs; the free and the great.

-Firealpaca: Lightweight drawing program. I draw Recovery using this! It’s easy on the RAM if you have a weak comp/are paranoid about yours like I am, it is mainly for basic comic making, and has all the basic brushes you need (pen/pencil/airbrush/symmetry/etc). You can add your own brushes as well but they’re p basic settings. Has basic Animation/Gif making as well using Onion Mode! Layout is a piece of cake. Please note that If you leave it open for a week it’ll crash on you, even if you haven’t anything on it at the moment, and sometimes the brush sensitivity just stops working so you just have to close and then open it again. (Also I have no idea how to update it aside from deleting it completely and just downloading the new version from scratch, so thats a thing.) Mac/Windows

-MedibangPaint: This is basically FireAlpaca But Better. Has tons of screen tones, brush patterns, and tools. I don’t use it much because I’m used to FA’s layout and get confused with the the placement of tools in here, so if you can I highly suggest just going with this first. Also has basic animation/gif making! Has storage for the website as well, and you can upload more preset brushes. It’s v anime. This program has waaay more in terms of basically everything, so it just takes more RAM. NBD, you don’t have to have every brush downloaded from the storage ^u^. Mac/Windows

-Clip Studio Paint: Okay this one isn’t free, it’s a pricey one, HOWEVER once a year they take the price way fuckin down by at least 75%. Sign up for the email list and it’ll let you know when that precious day comes. It’s how I got it @u@, around christmastime? This program is basically MedibangPaint On Steroids. I do all of my digital-yet-tradition-style-painting on here! The brushes all have some neat af settings to play with, you can make your own brushes, has tons of screen tones, pre-made panels, and settings. You can save projects as basically anything you need, is a hardy program that almost never crashes, and It’ll take a nice chunk of space on your comp depending on how much memory you have but hey, its worth it. It’s much more complex layout-wise than the other two here, but you get used to it after playing around and watching tutorials haha.

-Mischief: It’s a 25$ app, has like four brushes and five layers only but is vector-based with an endless canvas. Not really worth having unless you like the vector thing. UP TO YOU. I spent forever with this one doing all that homestuck stuff, so it’s not really bad so much as it is a basic bitch. Mac

-MyPaint: I used this a bunch when I still did digital art on my windows laptop before I upgraded to a Mac. It’s easy on the comp and has plenty of brushes and settings. You can also get brush packages if you don’t feel like you have enough that comes with the program! Also has endless canvas; pretty sure you can just select an area and then export as is. I barely remember the rest but It’s pretty great. Windows/MacPorts(which I hate)

-GIMP: I hate this thing. I cannot figure it out for the life of me. It’s got loads of shit though, can handle layers, has plenty of brushes, and can do basic animation/gifs if you ever figure it out. Windows/mac

I’ve heard good things from paint tool SAI and Krita as well, but have never used them myself.

***You can always pay through the nose/use a student discount for the photoshop series and pay that shit monthly, those fuckers have literally everything, but I am a cheap college kid making minimum wage with a car payment; I’d rather just pay once/not at all.

TABLETS: treat that shit like a newborn babe 24/7

-I have literally only ever owned a Wacom Intuos4. It has lasted me six years, and at least five moves across many miles. I broke one of the cord ports the day I opened it by holding it wrong, have one left, and now treat it like it’s going to die if the cord moves badly. Please be aware that if you break both ports, you better either sodder it back together yourself or upgrade to smth else because it costs about as much as the tablet itself was bought at to be fixed. Good news, though, it comes with at least six extra pen nibs, has programable buttons on the side (that I have never bothered to use) and a scroll bar in case you’re too lazy to use the keyboard (…I don’t really use that either unless I’m just scrolling through tumblr LMFAO).

-I would die for a Cintiq.

HOT TIPS: its useful.

-most of the programs listed use the same keyboard shortcuts. MEMORIZE THEM. It’s pretty easy, since you’ll use em a lot. [cntrl/cmmd+T] lets you resize what you just drew on that layer, and [cntrl/cmmd+z] is undo. I use those the most, for obvious reasons.

-vector-based programs are pretty great because when you resize an image it looks prefect. You can’t do that with a program that isn’t, so I just resize the base roughdraft and draw the lineart again on the layer above so I don’t get weird JPEG quality lines.

-You can use a ruler with your tablet, just slap it on and go, but honestly most programs have settings for that. just use those.

-You can also trace stuff on your tablet, so long as the paper isn’t too thick. I just scan/take a photo and then open it up in the program, though. much easier.

-SAVE CONSTANTLY. Art programs like to crash on you, even when they’re hardy and you have a good comp. make it a habit to quick save your work.

-Use a desk and have good posture. You’ll be able to draw a hell of a lot longer if you do. I personally keep fucking up my knees by sitting on my legs as I work out of habit, and don’t actually have a desk chair. Keep your screen at eye level and at a fair distance to prevent eyestrain and also neck-strain haha

-Chances are you won’t be used to the tablet right away. Most places you buy from say it’ll take a couple of months to get used to how weird it is to draw while not looking at your own hand, so don’t be frustrated If your drawings look a bit off at first.

-if you draw at least one thing every day, by the end of the year you’ll have improved exponentially. I literally made this blog to make myself draw once a day.

-don’t be afraid to check out speedpaints and tutorials. It’s always good to get more familiar with the program you’re using and new techniques previously unconsidered.

-get familiar with clipping layers. They are insanely useful; you clip one layer to the one below and then when you draw it only shows up on the drawing of that layer below. Shit is a godsend if you’re bad at coloring in the lines/lazy. The bucket tool is also really useful, and you can adjust the expansion by pixel so you don’t miss anything between the lines.

-experiment with your brushes, shit be fun af

-warmup your wrists before and after drawing. prevent swollen veins and such. dont want hand pain/numbness, its reaaaaally bad.

—basically if your hands hurt stop for the day.

-PNGS are for internet, JPEGS are for printing/fucking with quality (cough hack homestuck)

-resolution doesn’t have to be much more than 350 dpi if its just going to be on a webpage. Maximize that shit if you’re going to be printing, though. Especially if you put stuff on redbubble.

-DeviantArt has this thing called where you can dump art, keep it in perfect quality and just share it with certain people with a link instead of all of the website. Great for storing commission pieces, its the only reason I have DA in the first place.

-you get a different audience depending on what site you use for posting art, so keep that in mind for the kind of feedback you want.

-after awhile of drawing using a tablet, you may lose patience/forget that in traditional art there isn’t an undo button lmfao It’s cool; you don’t have to choose one over the other or anything.

-Honestly you can work around almost anything. You just invent new ways and techniques for yourself and you’ll do just fine.

Aaaaand that’s all I got for today! Thanks for sticking around <3

A Step too Far

olicity || ao3 || teen || angst || 1417 || more fics

summary: Susan’s latest big news story rubs Oliver the wrong way. (anonymous prompt)
a/n: i wasn’t going to work on prompts today… but… you know

Susan’s phone dinged three times in a row.

“Someone is popular today,” Oliver muttered from his desk.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “New story.”

Curiosity stirred inside of him, “Bout what?”

She paused for a moment and looked towards him, “I’d rather not say.”

His brows furrowed, “Okay….”

He didn’t want to be that person, but he wasn’t a fan of his girlfriend being secretive about her work. It was hypocritical of him, he knew that, but having to wait until the ten o’clock news wasn’t exactly fun. Besides, patience wasn’t one of his strong suits.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she stated as she looked back at her phone.

He couldn’t force himself to focus on his own work after that. She just kept typing away on her phone. It bothered him for more reason than one. Yes, he might have been working too, but they were supposed to be spending time with each other. Even when both he and Felicity had been at their busiest, they found time to talk to each other.


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Fireflies and Waterfalls - SaltyAuntSuga - 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Explicit 18+

 Min Yoongi/Jeon Jungkook 

Word Count: 5.3k

Prompt: Your body gets hotter the closer you are to your soulmate + sugakookie.

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

Min Yoongi had spent his whole life being cold. Unlike his friend Namjoon who was fucking sweating any time he got around his boyfriend Seokjin. It didn’t matter to Yoongi that it meant he hadn’t found his soulmate.

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The Joker x Reader - “Dirty Details”

Frost is finally going on vacation for 2 weeks with his wife and you agreed to take care of his two boys. Mister J was hard to convince, but you always have your way in the end. You can be very…persuasive.

Best friends saga:

You love Jonny’s sons, they are absolutely adorable: Kaden is 6 years old and Zane is 5. They will stay with you at your hideout in the woods because it will feel like a vacation for you also. The same can’t be said about the Joker; he was completely against you two babysitting for so long.

“Uncle J, can we watch a movie?” Kaden asks, slowly heading towards the bedroom where him and his brother will sleep.

“Don’t call me that, I’m not your uncle!” he bitterly replies, putting his guns away. He is extra grouchy because you told him to stash away everything a kid shouldn’t be around.

“Auntie Y/N, can we watch a movie, please?” Zane shyly tries his luck, knowing you probably won’t say no.

“She’s not your aunt,” J mumbles in the corner of the living room, locking away the guns and the knives in the seif.

“Yes, of course, you guys go to your room and put away your things, then come back,” you smile, ignoring the Joker’s shitty attitude.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” he scoffs as he closes the seif.

You choose not to answer, digging around for a movie in your collection.

After the shower, J comes back to the living room to find the boys cuddled to you, half asleep.

“Move, brats!” he demands, stretching his back.

The young one gets watery eyes, his lower lip quivering:

“Auntie Y/N is mine…” he manages to utter, clenching to your arm.

“You wish! Move!”

“J, seriously?!” you sigh, exasperated.

“You’re so mean Uncle J,” Kaden pouts, sniffling.

“I’m not your uncle!” J growls, narrowing his eyes.

Kaden starts crying:

“Uncle J is so mean all the timeeee…” The boys crawl in your lap, upset someone is trying to take you away from them. You try to comfort both, kissing their foreheads and squeezing them tight to your chest.

The Joker takes a deep breath and sits down by you, resting his head on your shoulder. You elbow him, irritated he made the kids cry.

“But you’re mine,” he whispers in your ear, frowning. “Tell them to move.”

“What are you, three years old?!” you mutter through your clenched teeth. “Stop your crap!”

** *After you avoided catastrophe and put Kaden and Zane to bed, you started fooling around with J because he wanted to apologize for being a jerk the best way he knows how. Not that you mind at all.

Suddenly, a knock on the door.

“Auntie Y/N,” Kaden calls out, “my little brother had a bad dream.”

You can hear Zane whimpering.

“Go back to bed, you’re fine!” J yells, pulling you back on top of him when you try to leave.

“Baby, he had a nightmare,” you try to reason with him while he continues to kiss you.

“Don’t care. They ARE the nightmare!”

“Come on, J, don’t be like that!” you sigh, fully aware he’s dead serious.

“But I’m already naked, we have to finish what we started!” he complains, slapping your thigh.

“Uncleee Jaayyy, I’m scared,” Zane bawls his eyes out outside the door now.

“Dammit!!!” the Joker closes his eyes, deliberating on what he should do while you take advantage of the situation and get off him, starting to put your nightgown on. “This is so not cool, doll ” he shakes his head and finally gets out of bed, grabbing his shorts and getting dressed, unamused at the ordeal he has to go through.

He goes and opens the door, Zane immediately rushing in to hug his legs, crying. J rolls his eyes, resigned. Kaden just stands there and you signal him to come in.

The Joker picks up the young boy and he wraps his arms around J’s neck, weeping on his shoulder.

“Stop crying, you pest, it’s fine.”    He’s a natural with kids.

Mister J turns around:

”Hey, what are you doing?” he grumbles seeing Kaden cuddled to your body.

“Come here, my little baby, did you have a bad dream?” you gesture for J to bring Zane over.

“Y-Y-yes,” he stammers, reaching his hands for you.

“Really, Princess? They’re not our children, they shouldn’t be in our bed,” he states the evident fact like it’s some kind of news flash.

“Give it a rest, will you? Let them be!”

He talks to himself in a low voice, saying not very nice things for sure, but gets in bed nevertheless.

“Scoot over, kid, I wanna sleep by my girl. Can I do that at least?” J sarcastically asks but of course Kaden doesn’t get the tone in his voice. He crosses over to the other side of your body, this way you two are in the middle like the Joker wanted.

“I hate kids,” he whispers in your ear.

“No you don’t, baby. We will have some too.” You keep on caressing Zane’s head, reaching over J’s chest.

“Oh, hell no, no way that’s gonna happen.”

“We are so having some, at least two.”

“Shut up and rinse your mouth with holy water, Kitten.”

You start laughing softly.

“I might be pregnant right now, you never know,” you wink, teasing him while the boys are quietly dosing off.

“Jesus, Pumpkin, don’t give me a heart attack, I’m too young,” he huffs, unhappy at your little joke.

*** “I’m going to marry Auntie Y/N!” Kaden decides after finishing breakfast.

“Sorry, brat, she’s already taken,” the Joker spoils the fun like he usually does.

“No, I’m gonna marry her!” Zane screams, ignoring J.

“No, I’m older, she’s mine!”

“No, Auntie Y/N is mine!”

They start fighting and you watch, entertained.

“Aww, how cute. Hey, boys,” you get in between them, ”you can both marry me, ok?”

“Really?” the young one looks full of hope.

“Definitely!” you reassure them as they hold your hands in theirs.

“That’s bullshit!” J puckers his lips, aggravated.    He’s so mature.

You glare his way, really wanting to kick him:

“Looks like I have three kids: a 39 year old, a 6 year old and a 5 year old. How did I manage that?!”

“Shut up, Princess.”

“Don’t tell my wife to shut up!” Kaden snaps, stepping in front of you. You lift your eyebrows, satisfied.

“Exactly, baby, be careful or my boys will tear you to pieces.”

“Yeah, right,” he taunts them, taking a sit on the couch.

“Kill the enemy, he’s being mean to our wife!!!!!” Kaden shouts, yanking Zane away and charging towards the Joker, jumping on him and yelling as loud as they can. And wow, the Joker cracks a smile while tickling them and trying to slam them on the couch. Holy shit on a stick, that’s absolutely insane.

*** J is walking around shirtless because he doesn’t really like to wear too much around the house.

The boys keep on staring at his tattoos, they sure look more interesting every time they see them.

“Uncle J, are you really God’s only child?” Kaden asks, curious the hear the answer.

You giggle, lifting your eyes from the book you’re reading. I guess J gave up on asking them not to call him uncle because they don’t care anyway.

“Hmmm, it’s quite possible, brat.”

“Wowww, did you ever see God?” Zane inquires, both of them with their mouth opened, anticipating his reply.

“A lot of times.”

The boys gasp.

“So many times, about 10 to 12 times a week with your Auntie Y/N,” he grins, watching your eyes getting as big as plates.

“ J, what the hell?! ” you throw your pen at him and he dodges it, so pleased of his clever answer.

“Wow, Auntie Y/N, you saw God too?!” the boys turn towards you, amazed.

“Oh, yes, she did, I always make sure of that,” the Joker laughs, talking for you and biting his lips while you squirm in your armchair.

“Zip it, J !!!” you throw your book at him and miss. He keeps on laughing.

“How does God look like, Auntie? Is he big?”

You give J an evil glance and then you have the perfect comeback:
“Average,” you smirk at your little revenge.

J’s smile freezes on his face.     Ha! Serves you right!

“I’ll show you average, you little smart ass!!!” the Joker heads towards you as you start running away with the boys chasing the two of you, screaming up a storm because they think you are playing around.

*** J took a shower and now he’s parading around the cabin with only a towel around his waist. You urged him to go put some clothes on because you have kids around and he had a temper tantrum so you decided to go and fix the problem.

“Here, boys, you can play video games on TV, OK? I have to go and talk to J and we’ll be back. Will you be good for me?”
“Yes, Auntie Y/N,” they both answer in the same time, pushing each other on the way to the couch, snickering.

You go in your master bedroom and you watch him for a few seconds as he slams stuff around, looking for something to wear, still mad. It makes you smile, he’s so dramatic sometimes. You lock the door, then sneak behind him and pull his towel away.

“I’m not in the mood for games,” he sulks, watching you throw the towel on the floor.

“I know why you’re grumpy, baby. You are sexually frustrated because we got interrupted last night.”
He squints his eyes, trying to say something but you don’t let him.

“I know exactly what you need, you have about 30 minutes before the boys get bored and come looking for us.”

You violently push him on the bed and his green hair gets all over his face.

“Jesus, woman, what the…” he lifts his head and watches you take your clothes off as fast as you can.

“Shut up! Like I said: about 30 minutes.”

“Wh-what am I supposed to do in only 30 minutes?!”

“Your best. Come on, let’s get it out of your system.”

“I’ll let you know, Kitten, this is not cool at all!… Ohhhh, come to Daddy,” he smirks when he sees you completely naked, forgetting his other speech.

“Try to be quiet,” you whisper, crawling on top of him and pressing your lips on his.

“I don’t wanna be quiet!” he gropes you, snarling.

“Jeez, stop being so feisty, you’re wasting time.”

*** You get your face out of the laptop, realizing it’s very quiet around the house. Where’s everybody? You walk around the cabin, then get outside. You circle around and finally see the Joker and the boys.

“See? You hold it like this and then you aim…”
“Baby, what are you doing?”

“I’m teaching them how to handle a gun,” he nonchalantly replies like it is the most normal thing in the world.

“Really?! Can you please put the gun away in the seif?! Seriously now!”

“But Uncle J is showing us his cool gun, we wanna see some moreeeee,” Kaden whines, causing Zane to do the same.

“Yes, we are doing some male bonding,” J yawns, kind of bored.

“Male bonding, male bonding!!!!!” the kids start jumping up and down, not understanding what he’s really referring to, but it sounds cool.

Maybe these brats have something going for themselves, the Joker thinks, watching you go back inside as you shake your head in disapproval.

*** Frost picked up his kids and now he’s driving back to Gotham, drinking his coffee and chatting with his wife while the boys are having fun in the back sit.

“Daddy, guess what?” Kaden gets his attention.

“What is it?”

“Did you know Uncle J saw God?”

Jonny smiles and the wife sighs.   Ahhhh, kids

“Did you know Auntie Y/N saw him too?”

“You don’t say, boys, that’s really something” he winks at the wife, sipping on the coffee.

“Yes, he said he sees God 10 to 12 times a week and he makes sure every time that Auntie sees him too.”
Frost spits out his coffee and slams the breaks in the middle of the road. He starts coughing, still chocking while laughing with all his heart.

“I’ll be damned, we need to catch up, darling,” he says turning towards his wife while she chuckles, entertained at the revelation. He wipes his mouth beginning to drive again. And then he decides:

“We need to let them babysit more often, this way we can find out all the dirty details.”

 Also read: MASTERLIST


Having elections on a Sunday in spring is way better than a Tuesday in November. I spent the afternoon picnicking with friends, eating radishes drinking wine and not looking at the news. We all met up in the evening at a friend’s place to see the results. There are no early returns or states in different time zones, so finding out who won is more like ripping off a bandaid than a slowly sickening sinking feeling. For example. At 8 pm, two faces appear on TV, and that’s how you know.
I most admired Benoît Hamon, I voted for Mélenchon, and now I’m Team Macron I guess. I have absolutely no idea what he’s going to do (besides keep us in Europe, and in the Euro zone, which is a good thing) and oh man he has some Marco Rubio-level debating skills, and yeesh I’m worried he won’t do well face to face with Marine Le Pen. I am extremely relieved that Fillon lost and I really hope he goes to jail (he won’t but it’s nice to think about!).
The highlight of the night was probably when our friend who hosted the viewing party announced that he’d made nachos, and Paul and I got super excited because France does not do nachos, not at all, and the one or two times we’ve made them our friends have been skeptical at best, disgusted at worst, and oh boy nachos yes let’s have nachos. What he put on the table in front of us was a sort of flattened baked sheet of mashed cornmeal with a few slices of Kraft singles melted on top. I think I totally failed to keep a poker face, and Paul let out a loud HA! I have cheered myself up at least three times today just thinking about it.
Late at night back home we heard noise outside, and it was a small group of antifa protesters, holding a big banner saying Neither Le Pen Nor Macron. They were doing their antifa thing, which around here is mainly knocking over every single trash can in the street, plenty of firecrackers, and spray painting the occasional wall. A couple down the street got in a shouting match with a girl who was tagging the wall of their building, and she yelled “THIS WALL BELONGS TO EVERYONE” and if I found getting in shouting matches with people fun I would have yelled “THEN DON’T FUCKING SPRAYPAINT IT THEN FUCK” but I didn’t. Someone went down and picked up all the trash cans, which was very nice of them, but then the protest did a u-turn, came BACK down our street, knocked them all over again, this time pulled down the metal panels which are the only authorized place for campaign posters. This is about when the cops showed up, in riot gear. The kids scattered and ran away, which is good, because minus the graffiti they weren’t really doing anything too bad and I didn’t want them to get beat up.

this is just a mess of an Iris/Killer Frost fanfiction plot that came to me after 3x18. I really had no intentions of making it a full fledged fic or anything, it was just something I couldn’t get out of my head so I dumped it here (straight out of my word document, forgive the format!)


  • Iris meets Killer Frost five times after she’s gone rouge

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Two Lives (Jamilton Day 1)

Ahhhh my first fic so maybe not the greatest. Also i guess this was rushed for Jamilton week. Whatever, i made it for fun and i hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Mentions of death, cursing


“Alexander Hamilton is dead.”

The words silenced the room and no one dared breathe as all eyes turned to the president. Thomas Jefferson couldn’t speak. He couldn’t seem to form a sentence. Hamilton was dead. The small, fiery man who never shut up, would never speak again. They wouldn’t fight again.

“H-how?” Jefferson choked out eventually.

“A deul with Vice President Burr. Apparently Hamilton wouldn’t fire at him. He threw away his shot. Aimed at the sky and fired. Burr shot at him. Hit him between the ribs.” The man who gave the announcement nodded to everyone before leaving them amongst themselves.

Everyone had noticed Burr wasn’t there that morning, but no one really questioned it. Now they knew.

The days passed for Jefferson as they normally did, but he felt a piece of himself missing. He missed the quick-witted man who used to oppose his every thought. Thomas made it a point to visit Eliza Hamilton as often as he could, to see how she was doing.

When he died 22 years after Alexander, he laid in his bed, holding a locket to remind him of his wife, and thinking of the last thing Hamilton fought with him over.

And then he woke up.


“Hamilton I swear if you fuck up this project I’m ending this and doing it all myself.” Jefferson snapped at the short brunette in front of him.

“I’m not the one fucking up. You keep giving innacurate information to me. Im just fact-checking everything you say and finding that you’re consistently wrong.” Alex fired back, dropping his pen and leaning back on the couch.

They had a major project for their class due in a week and couldn’t seem to even get a thesis statement to stick.

“At least I’m coming up with ideas! You’re just sitting there staring at me.” Thomas stopped typing on his laptop and looked at Hamilton, seeing his face turning red “I know I’m gorgeous, but come on. I would expect you out of everyone to be able to function.” He had stopped yelling and was smirking now.

Hamilton’s eyes widened “That is not why I’m staring at you! God you’re cocky.”

“Can’t blame me.” Thomas stood up and stretched. Chancing a glance at Alex, he saw the shorter man was looking at him again. “I need a break. Want a snack, or are you gonna keep undressing me with your eyes?” He let it slip out, and laughed when again Alex’s face went red and his eyes widened. He had never seen him at a loss for words.

“You’re an ass,” he mumbled, but nodded his head “get me an ice water.”

Jefferson smirked again and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed two glasses and started filling one with water “So tell me about yourself.” He called out to the living room.

“What is this, a date?” Hamilton responded, walking in and leaning against the door frame.

Thomas laughed and handed him his glass of water, “No, I just want to know more about who I’m fighting with every day. You know, hopes, fears, parents, future aspirations, and all that shit.” He walked towards Alex and leaned down to match his height, “Who do you think you are, Alexander Hamilton?”

The words were met with no response. Thomas straightened up. Alexander wasn’t moving. He was staring in front of him. He looked almost frozen, and Thomas reached out to touch him, but then he spoke, backing up.

“Y-you’ve said that to me before.” His eyes snapped up to Thomas’ “In 1792. Do you remember?” His voice shook and he stumbled over to the couch, memories flooding his head.

“What the hell are you talking about? That was 200 years ago.” Jefferson wanted to be angry, or confused, but it almost made sense.

“Yeah, it was. I died and then i guess this is my new life. But that was a cabinet meeting. You said that to me and I responded “I am Alexander Hamilton, secretary of the Treasury, Washington’s right hand man, and better-”

“-that I’ll ever be, yeah. I remember now…” Thomas grabbed the roots of his hair and tugged. He could see an entire other life now, floating inside his head, mixing with the memories of this life “What the fuck is happening, Hamilton.”

“No clue. No fucking clue.” He responded, but Thomas could already see the gears turning in his head. The dude never stopped thinking.

“Maybe,” he started as he stood up, “maybe this wasn’t supposed to happen. Maybe our old life was supposed to stay our old life, but somehow we met each other and now the barrier is broken.” He paced the room, and Thomas did nothing but watch him. It was entertaining, but at the same time he also wanted an explanation.

“Or what if we were supposed to meet? What if because I was killed so early, we were sent together to finish our feud. Feud? Is that the right word?” He stopped and looked at Thomas.

Thomas shrugged “I’m not sure if you could call it that. I think in the old life I just really didn’t like you. This one seems different.” He picked up his glass and took a sip.

“Different how?” Alexander was too busy thinking about his old life to pick up on the way Thomas looked at him

“Fighting was easy. In class, we opposed each others views. In here, we nit-picked at each other. That’s fun and all, but it’s not enough to make me hate you. I actually kinda like you.” Thomas was a little thrown off by how underwhelmed Hamilton was at the news. It also scared him.

“Yeah. I see your point.” He responded, “Man, i really did hate you in ‘90 though. You and your awful coat.”

“Ugh, don’t start on that it was 200 years ago and also highly fashionable in France.”

“Lafayette would never have been caught dead in that garbage.”

“You weren’t much better with that ugly green jacket! I still stand by that ‘smells like new money, dresses like fake royalty’ comment by the way.” Thomas and Alexander laughed together and looked at each other.

“It’s getting late, I should go.” Alex stated, looking at his watch.

“You could always stay.” Thomas said, looking down at his feet.

Alex smiled, but it went unseen by Thomas “Well, we do have a project to do…” he trailed off, trying not to add an ‘or’. He knew this life was different.

Jefferson looked up, surprised “Would that be a yes?”

“Can’t say no to this.” Hamilton picked up his glass and moved around the coffee table to get go the kitchen. When he got to Thomas he stopped, “Oh yeah.” He said.

“What?” Thomas looked down at the smaller man. Instead of answering, Alex reached up and kissed him. It was short, mostly on account of Jefferson internally screaming, but it got the point across.

“I like you too.” Hamilton smiled as he walked into the kitchen

“I-I didn’t say-”

“I know,” Alex cut in, “but you flirted first.” He almost smirked, but was again reminded of the past, “Hey?” He called out to Thomas.

“What do you need?” The taller man called back.

“How-” he paused, “How was Eliza? After I died, did you see her ever?” He wanted to know about his wife. He really did love her in his first life.

There was a pause from Jefferson as well, “She was doing okay. At first she was devastated by your loss. Then she picked herself up. You know she founded the first orphanage in New York City?” His voice got closer until he was standing next to Alexander, “She did that for you. She raised her kids and after that raised the orphans like they were her own. She also helped fund the monument for Washington, and was a big abolitionist. You would have been proud…” Thomas looked over at the shorter man, who had his head down. His shoulders were shaking, the only indication that he was crying other than the muffled sobs.

Thomas pulled him into his chest and let him cry. After a few minutes, Alex pulled away, but held Thomas’ hands “I am. I am so proud of her. I wish I could know her in this life too.”

“Maybe we will. I mean, we met each other.” As Jefferson said that, he wished it weren’t true. He wanted Alex to himself.

“Yeah, maybe.” Alex said absentmindedly. He looked up at Thomas “Can we sit on the couch? Learning about an entirely new life tired me out.” He smiled lightly, and Thomas laughed.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He let go of one hand, but held the other as they walked through the couch. Both men felt giddy as they sat righe next to each other, and without speaking Alex laid his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

They stayed there like that for awhile. Thomas, for once, loved that his roommate was never home. As his arm was falling asleep, Alex got up.

“What?” Thomas asked, looking at the other man. Alex shook his head and grabbed Thomas’ hand, then pulled him down the hall. He tiredly opened the first two doors before finding the third to be Thomas’ bedroom, and led them inside. Thomas was questioning the situation but didn’t say anything about it.

Alexander walked over to his bed and crawled underneath the blankets. Thomas laughed and looked down at him “Are you comfy?”

“Noooo, c'mere.” Alex grumbled, patting the bed next to him.

“Oh fine. It was a cute sight to see, though.” Jefferson said, winking at Alexander before turning out the light and joining him in his bed.

“G'night T” Alex mumbled.

“Aww a nickname.” Thomas tried to cover up his happiness with a joke, but he was still blushing.

Goodnight, T”

“Goodnight Alex. Expect a date in the future.” Thomas kissed Alexander’s forehead before closing his eyes.

You Wont Regret It - Gajevy Secret Santa

This story is entirely dedicated to @the-redhead-who-writes ~ I hope that you enjoy it! I have never written Gajevy before, so please forgive me if either of them are a little bit OOC! I really hope that you enjoy it and I SUPER hope that you have a Merry Christmas <3

Summary: She made him coffee, she was cute… how could he not fall for her?

Coffee Shop AU 

Characters: Gajeel, Levy, Lucy, Natsu

Ship: Gajevy, VERY light implied NaLu

Rating: K

Word Count: 4,090

“My name is Levy. How many times do I need to tell you that?” The bluenette was pointing at the name tag that was located above her heart. Her name was written in large black print, so there was absolutely no way that this guy was missing it.

“Oh, is it?” The large man with all the piercings leaned over the counter, forcing Levy to take an uncertain step backwards while he squinted at the spot she was pointing to on her uniform. “I think Shrimp suits you much better, you should consider having it legally changed. It might do you some good.”

The short girl puffed out her cheeks at the customer who always seemed to enjoy picking on her.

She was the only worker in the whole cafe that wasn’t afraid of serving him though, so she never really had a choice when he walked in through those doors.

Which he seemed to do every single day that she worked.

There was a rumor going around the workplace that this guy had a thing for Levy, which she denied every single time it was brought up.

No way that jerk could like her!

“Are you going to order or am I going to have to play the guessing game?” The bluenette decided to change the subject back onto the real reason that he was there, she was thankful that no other customers were around to witness this banter.

The man often would continue this charade whether or not there was a growing line behind him, the thoughts and opinions of other people when it came to himself didn’t seem to matter in the slightest.

Levy couldn’t help but admire that about the strange man. Of course, she would never admit to something like that. The guy already had an ego the size of a horse, she definitely didn’t want to go about making it any bigger.

“Aw Shrimp, I thought that by now you would have my order down to a science.”

Levy placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at him, “How can I possibly do that when you change it up every single time you come here? It’s as though you have something against consistency.”

The man grinned before bursting out laughing, “What can I say? I guess it’s a lot of fun getting you all riled up. I kind of think of it as a game now, on my way here I find myself wondering how I’m gonna get you to look at me with that expression. I’m always pretty successful.”

Levy only looked at him expectantly and he sighed before turning his eyes up towards the menu that hung above her head. “Alright, today I’ll go for a triple espresso, a honey dip donut… and your number.”

Keep reading

He Sends You Mixed Signals

A/n: Completely inspired by the bar scene from the 50 Shades of Grey movie. Not my best piece of work, but I hope you enjoy :)


Drunk. Stupidly, undeniably drunk. Head spinning, word slurring, skin tingly. This is her first time getting drunk, ever. Despite the fact she’s nearly twenty, and has been living with her alcoholic roommate, this is her first true drunken state. And the bar being crammed with hundreds of grinding bodies didn’t help either.
“On the count of three, guys!” Casey, her roommate, announces at the table, holding up her shot glass in between the tips of her pointer finger and thumb, which looks much more professional than the way Y/n is holding it.
“One. Two. Three!” She shouts.
Y/n throws her head back, the glass against her lipstick covered lips. The alcohol is way too strong, especially for an inexperienced woman. She then slams the glass down like she had seen in movies plenty of times. Casey laughs, ruffling her hair with the fingers of her hand. She lets out a sighed “ah” as if feeling refreshed from her long day at work.
“Y/n, did you not finish your drink?” Casey laughs, lifting up her glass and inspecting the remaining bit of the cider-colored liquid.
“No!” Y/n laughs, “way too strong for a girl like me.”
Casey giggles, shaking her head. “Whatever.”
Y/n sighs, taking in her surroundings as much as she possibly can. The men and women dancing together made her heart burst with jealousy. It reminds her too much of Harry, who has only been sending her complicated signals for the last couple of weeks. He never commits to relationships, he has told her plenty of times, that he is only interested in other things. Other things he has never told her. But his games are getting old to her now, because he still treats her as if she is the only girl he has ever known. Always finding excuses to talk to her, always finding ways to touch her in the most gentle of ways. His games confuse her, yet, she doesn’t care.
She thrives on him. She is so infatuated with everything he does. From the way he holds a pen, or the way his lips move so delicately when he utters a single word, and even when he runs his hands through his hair. She feeds off of him, as if he is her only chance of survival.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” She says to Casey, who is too intrigued in the conversation of their friends to even notice her existence.
Y/n shrugs, and stumbles toward the line for the bathroom.
She’s still thinking about Harry. That’s all she can think about. When he’s not with her, all she can feel is the way he touches her. They had only kissed a couple of times, but each time felt like so much more than lips touching each other. Every inch of her ignites when he looks at her the way he does, or the way he talks to her. Even though she has never been in a relationship, she knows what they have is more, even if he doesn’t want to admit it to himself or to her.
“Annoying prick.” Y/n mumbles.
She takes her phone out of her back pocket, searching through her contacts until she sees his name. She debates on whether or not to call him, but the intoxication in her blood seems to take over as she decides to call him.

Harry’s phone vibrates against his table, the work he was completing now exiting his mind as he sees Y/n’s name pop up on his phone.

“Y/n?” Harry asks, his attention now completely fixed on her.
“Hi, Harry.” Y/n laughs.
“Y/n? Where are you?” He asks, placing his pen down as his back stiffens, he can feel the alcohol inside of her. Her drunken state is radiating through the phone. Every bit of her haze, he feels, and he is instantly feeling protective of her.
“I’m in line waiting for the bathroom.” Y/n says, her words slurred.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Just a lil bit. A teeny tiny bit.”
Harry pushes his chair back with his feet. He stands with worry, who knows what could happen to her at a bar when she’s that drunk? She could get hurt, so hurt and it’ll murder him.
“Y/n! Where are you?”
His voice is thick, wrapped in worry, each word harsh and clear.
“I am nowhere near you, Harry. Nowhere near your existence. I’m faaaaaar away.” She exaggerates.
“Get away from wherever you are.”
“You’re so bossy. It’s like ‘Y/n, go away. I don’t do romance.’ And then it’s like, ‘No, wait, come back Y/n, I need you here’ and then you say ‘No, stay far away Y/n, I’m such bad news.’ You always tell me what to do yet you don’t even want me as a girlfriend. I’m freeeeee.”
With that, she hangs up. She laughs, the alcohol finding the serious topic hysterical, and she can’t help but to find the situation funny.
“I totally told him.” She sighs to herself.
She feels her phone ring again, which brings her out of her giggling fit. She looks down to her phone, where his name appears with large letters.
“Hey, Harry, I—“
“Stay where you are, I’m coming to get you.” He says before hanging up.
She looks down at her phone confused. How will he get her if he doesn’t know where she is? Why did he sound angry with her? She shrugs it off, but knows that she has to wait for him if he’s going to pick her up. With that thought, she slowly stands from the wall. She stumbles out of the bar, for she feels like she only weighs an ounce.
“Hey Y/n!” Y/n’s best friend, Kyle calls out to her.
She turns around, finding Kyle walking up to her with her jacket in his arms.
“It’s freezing out here, you forgot this on your chair.” He smiles.
“Thank you so much.” She whispers, lifting her arms to her sides as Kyle puts on her jacket.
“You’re frozen solid.” He chuckles. “Let me warm you up.”
Kyle reaches for her small frame, wrapping his arms around her. He rubs her back in quick movements. Y/n tries to back away from his strong hold, not feeling comfortable in the position. He only holds her tighter, lifting his head until his face is only centimeters from hers.
“I really like you, Y/n.” Kyle murmurs.
“You do?” She breathes out shakily, pushing him away from her.
“A lot.”
“Let me kiss you.” He says, gripping onto her waist even harder.
Y/n’s eyes widen, fear striking her. She has never kissed anybody other than Harry, and she doesn’t want to kiss anybody else in her state of mind.
“Kyle, no.”
“Come on, one kiss. Just one.” He whispers, leaning closer into her.
“No, no. Please!” Y/n begs.
She tries to wiggle herself away from him, trying desperately for the sake of her own protection to get away from him.
Harry is only a couple of steps away, and he can feel his knuckles tighten and jaw clench at the sight. Who dare touch his girl? He is quick to push Kyle away with as much force as he can. With just the shove of his hand, Kyle tries to keep himself up before falling on the ground.
“DUDE! SHE SAID NO!” He yells, fury burning through his eyes.
Y/n is shocked to see Harry here so soon, but doesn’t question it.
“Harry?” she whispers.
She’s about to say something else, but she ends up leaning over, puking all over the concrete.
Harry rips his gaze from Kyle, focusing on how Y/n is ill now. He takes out a tissue from his jacket pocket, kneeling down in front of her. Once she’s stable, he wipes his tissue along her face, cleaning up what was remained.
“This is why you don’t drink like that.” He says in anger.
“But I was having fun! Without you!” She whines, stomping her foot on the ground.
Harry stares at her with a pained expression, but quickly covers it up with a strong, intimidating look.
“So much fun without me, yet you still called me on your way to the bathroom.”
Y/n pouts, fixing her eyes on her feet as she sways between her heals and toes.
“Look, Y/n. Let me just take care of you tonight, okay? I’ll tell Casey you’re coming with me, let me just take care of you at my house, yeah?” He asks quietly, running his thumb along her bottom lip. Y/n closes her eyes at the feeling of his skin. She’s falling for him all over again, she can feel it everywhere.

callamint  asked:

Can I request for Writing Prompts: 3, 4, 24, 38 with Steve?! :)

Prompts: (3) “I’m not jealous.” (4) “You can’t keep doing this.” (24) “Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?” (38) “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4,106 oops

A/N: This started out completely different, but one idea just snowballed into another and this is the final result. Warning: this is a modern day AU, there is an office place romance, it’s kinda really sexual, a little bit of Thanksgiving and Christmas (because you guys know I love the holidays), and- of course- jealous Steve. 

I don’t know what this is, but it’s fun, and I don’t often use the “you” point of view, so I figured I better practice. And here’s a playlist for you: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Originally posted by madness-in-suit

You loved you job.

Working at a Fortune 500 company gave you everything you needed to live a fun, single life in New York City. Your boss was a nice, old man who appreciated integrity, hard work, and great costumer service; three things that you excelled at. It was competitive, kept you on your toes, and the weekends off were just another perk; one that you enjoyed weekly with your best girl friends and an open bar.

You were just an associate, though. One who always did her job, came to work on time, and stayed out of trouble- with the exception of Scott, the guy who worked in the cubicle next to you. He was cute, and it was fun to flirt with him shamelessly in the copy room. But other than that, you kept under the radar.

That was of course, until your boss died suddenly of a heart attack.

Keep reading

Every Letter (7/10)

Summary: A pen pal writing assignment connects a young Emma Swan with her best friend Killian Jones. Life sends many hardships their way, but their friendship remains solid through the years. As they both grow older and begin to realize what they want out of life, will their letters be enough? (On AO3.)
Rating: T
Word count: ~11800
Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 - Ch5 - Ch6 - Ch7 - Ch8 - Ch9 - Ch10 [Pt1] - Ch10 [Pt2]

Too loud. Whatever it was, it was too loud and obnoxious and Emma’s head hurt like a bitch so she needed it to stop.

Her brow creased as the sound slowly, though not gently, pulled her into consciousness.

Oh. Shit. Her phone was ringing. 

She had barely a moment to appreciate the warm cocoon she was wrapped in before she toppled over the side of the couch and onto the floor. She groaned, her hands grasping at her head to try and will away the throbbing.

“Emma? You all right?” 

She jumped a little at the voice, bumping her shoulder into the coffee table, and then looked up at the source. He was leaning over the side of the couch, hair sticking up at all angles, and his concerned blue eyes were only half-open.

Her first thought, muddled by her pounding head and the fog of confusion following too few hours of sleep, was, ‘Who the hell is this?’

Her second, much more sobering thought, was, ‘Fuck fuck fuck it’s Killian.’ 

Keep reading

prayers-for-rain-deactivated201  asked:

Thank you! I'm not sure why it wouldn't let you. (Also, do you have any tips on getting into tarot and starting doing readings - like how to find tarot decks and such? Or is there anyone you can point me to? Thank you)

(I figured you wouldn’t care if I posted it on the blog, as others may have the same question!)

Getting into tarot…whew, that’s a pretty big question!

One way to get into tarot is to get an app on your phone.

Apps below the cut:



There are also Printable Tarot decks (Links below the cut):


Places to buy:

Online Shops:

If you are out in the real world:

  • Bookstores
  • Witchy/Metaphysical Shops
  • “Eclectic” Shops, like romancing the stone
  • Game shops

So, that’s my advice on how to get a tarot deck. This is just general advice, and some decks may be too much in the beginning (THIS IS REALLY LONG I AM SO SORRY!).

My advice on choosing a tarot deck and readings:

Pick a deck that you like.

  • I highly suggest looking up the deck on the Aecletic Tarot forums and looking at the artwork and ratings.
  • Look for a deck that seems to say “COME GET ME”
  • Look for a deck that isn’t overly complicated (I say this because I picked up a pretty hard to understand deck on a whim in New Orleans)
  • Look for a deck that you feel represents you.
  • I also suggest picking up a RWS deck to begin with because there is so much information on the web!
  • Be careful of getting an obscure deck or one that has SPECIFIC meanings. I try to tell people that the Thoth deck, although gorgeous, has structured meanings, and uses astrology and other symbols I’m not always familiar with. Same holds true for a deck that nobody really knows about, or has no LWB.

Choose a book or site to help you out.

Take your deck, a pen and paper (or notebook), or your computer, and start with the first card.

  • Write the name of the card
  • Write what you see/notice about the card
  • Interpret the card the way you would if you saw it in a reading for yourself
  • Write the traditional meaning of the card
  • Do this for every single card (Plus bonding time with the deck!!)
  • You are basically making your own Little White Book (LWB)

How do I do readings though?

Take your deck (after journaling, or just jump in there) and read for fictional characters!

  • Read for TV Characters by watching an episode, and before they make a decision, do a spread.
  • Read for Characters in a book.
  • Read for characters in a play.
  • Read for the people in advice columns
  • Read for any one in a drama (Grey’s Anatomy is really fun to do this with)
  • Read for the people in Soap Operas (It is hilarious when you are right or wrong)
  • The point here is to read for fictional clients, act like they are your friends or family.

Offer Free Readings!

  • So, we’re on Tumblr, and you and I both know the TAGS, those are the most amazing things ever (especially on my blog)!
  • Post in the Tags! #free readings, #free tarot readings, #divination, #tarot, those are the ones I use for tarot readings. I also currently do the #shareaspread
  • Ask your friends and family! Personally, my family isn’t a group I can ask, but my friends…oh…they have gotten readings. And I have heard a lot of “well, damn"s.
  • Look for events that you’re comfortable doing readings at. Party at a friend’s house? Oh yes, this is where tarot cards and Ouija boards come out. School function? Might as well do something to pass the time!
  • Post your personal readings on your blog! Then ask if anyone wants a reading. This works on Facebook too (again, I’m a little lost as far as that, because I can’t do that myself.)
  • Participate in Challenges!! I cannot tell you how much the challenges by rm-tarot, ragabashwitch and arcanemysteries, spoopytarot and thehappyexistentialist have helped me!
  • Post readings you want to try and offer those for free .

Okay, so I’ve got all the resources! AAAAAAND I’m stuck…

You’re stuck? Well have no fear!

Find bloggers who are willing to help!!

Go to your online resources.

Google search by card.

Lay down more cards. You have no idea what that card is referring to? Lay down more cards, interpret them as though the original card were another question!

Cleanse your cards. It could be that they picked up a negative vibe, or the cards are overwhelmed.

Ask your question differently.

Your cards may just be being a smart ass. I have had this happen with a deck in the middle of a paid reading!

So, now I think I can do this! Any other advice?

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Nalu Week Day 2: Reunion (Yes I know this is 2 days late!! I’m sorry!!)

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: K-T (Just a few minor swears here and there)

Genre: Angst (Oh god what have I done. I did the opposite genre of everybody else. I am so sorry! This was really hard to write, but I did it!)

 This playlist may help you read through it. Anyways. Thanks for reading! Have a beautiful day <3

Dear Lucy,

“No…since when have I called her ‘Lucy’?”, the male sighed to himself before scratching out her name with the quill pen, “Let’s try this again…”

Dear Lucy,
Dear Luce,

It’s been a week since you left me. That’s 7 days, 168 hours, and 10080 minutes since you joined the stars in the sky to dance with the constellations. Happy and I haven’t really slept much since that day, and when Happy does I catch him dreaming about you. I know it’s about you because he cries and mumbles about how much he misses your hugs. I miss your hugs too, how warm and at peace they made me feel. And your smile, gods that smile that got me through everything, and even when we were at war against Zeref, you still managed to keep that blinding smile plastered on your face as if nothing could possibly go wrong. What I miss most of all, though, is your voice. What I wouldn’t give to hear your voice again, even when you yelled at me I still relished in the sound. I want to hear you get all excited about the latest book. I want to hear you sing your favorite song while you dance around your apartment in your bare feet. I want to hear you complain about how much you need for rent the next month. Now it’s just silent around here in your apartment. I lay in your bed every night in hopes that your scent will get rid of these dark feelings inside of me, but nothing helps.

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love measured in coffee spoons

Alternatively: “Five Times Nicole Haught Drank Coffee for Waverly Earp, and One Time Her Girlfriend Brought Her Tea.”

on ao3

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anonymous asked:

I've been wanting to pitch an idea for an article to Cracked but I, being shy and anxiety-filled, am terrified to actually post the pitch. Do you have any advice?

Eesh, good luck, buddy!

Shyness is a comforting and useful “tool” for lack of a better word, and my instincts for a long time sided with shyness and caution, and there’s a lot of merit to that. Let’s talk about some things that my shyness, nervousness or anxiety accomplished for me:

They have, without question, resulted in me being comfortable, I won’t pretend that they didn’t. I’d be in class, in college, listening to a bunch of people talk about something that I didn’t agree with and I’d think “Maybe I should interject,” and then I’d remember that I’m probably the only one with my opinion and it wouldn’t help anyone if I rocked the boat, and anyway if all of these people thought the same way they were probably right, so shush, Daniel. And boy, sitting in a classroom quietly will always feel more comfortable than having a bunch of eyes on you when you’re saying something you know a bunch of people won’t like. And that comfort is nice and reassuring. Mmmmm, tasty comfort.

Or I’d see a cute girl reading a book at my coffee shop [or bar or office or The World] and think “Maybe I should introduce myself and find out what she likes,” and then instead I’d ultimately choose to read my own book and, sure, sitting on my own without having to talk to someone new who could potentially hurt my feelings, I didn’t start breathing fast and I didn’t start sweating and I felt very comfortable, so much more comfortable than if I’d tried to stutter my way through an introduction.

Or I’d have an idea for an article and I’d write it up and I’d consider submitting it to a magazine I liked, but then I’d imagine the cold, rejection letter that could potentially follow. And I’d think about how depressed that could make me, how embarrassed I’d feel, how maybe the rejection would sting so hard that I’d quit writing altogether. And then I’d decide “Nah, this is another one just for ME. Not going to submit it.” And, PHEW, what a sigh of relief! It’s legitimately comforting and wonderful.

But I should be clear right now, I don’t actually remember any of those things. I don’t remember sitting quietly in class. And I don’t remember not approaching the cute girl at the [insert place], and I can’t remember the names of any of the magazines I didn’t submit to. Which isn’t to say that those things didn’t happen; I’m positive that they did. I’m sure that they happened a bunch of times, I just don’t remember them with any clarity.

I can’t remember specific examples where I bit my tongue in class, but I remember how amazing/terrifying it felt to be the first one in a room saying “Wait, let’s rethink this,” and people listened.

I don’t remember every interesting woman I didn’t talk to, but I remember the smile of every single one that I was (temporarily) brave enough to try to make laugh.

I was too nervous to submit probably 200 articles or short stories or one-act-plays to websites, magazines and contests. I don’t remember any of those pieces of content (or the names of any of the sites, magazines or contest). What I DO remember, with eternal specificity, is the first article I had submitted, completely cold, to Cracked. The rough draft was written in red pen in one of those College Ruled notebooks. I wrote it when I should have been paying attention in Astronomy, a Summer Semester class I was taking my junior year of college. I typed it up when I went home that night and submitted it. The minute it was accepted by then-editor Jay Pinkerton, I told my big brothers, and then I took out my friends Joe and Jaclyn for a late night snack of cream-of-turkey soup at our favorite piece-of-shit diner to tell them the good news, and then a few days later I told my Mom because she seemed bummed that day and I thought it might cheer her up (I originally planned to keep my Cracked writing a secret from her, because there were curse-words in it and I didn’t want to upset/embarrass her. For the record, when I DID tell her I’d sold my first article, her response was “I’m sure they’ll buy more and more articles and then just hire you full-time,” and then of course that happened, because Moms know more than us).

It may not have been comfortable, but I sure do remember it, and other moments like it. In fact, before falling asleep at night, I have never comforted myself with idle thoughts of the chances I didn’t take. Even when things DON’T work out, it’s more fun to relive the chances you took than it is to dwell on the ones you didn’t.

Anytime you do something like that, something that scares you or makes you breathe fast, you’re going to feel uncomfortable. But, I don’t know. Do you think you were put on this big, silly Earth to sit around being comfortable?