it'll prob


“And even as I’m kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, I wish I were kissing him, wanting more, more, more, more, like I can’t get enough, never will be able to get enough.”
     ― Jandy Nelson, I’ll Give You The Sun (x)

It’s so amazing that, on Christmas, we gather together to celebrate a man who never celebrated himself. A man who brought so much joy to the world, even through his own hardship. A man so caring of everyone around him that it changed the course of history. I guess all I’m saying is, happy birthday Doug Eiffel.


All around smooching to end the night on a happy note (。・ω・。)ノ♡



Amaranthine - ‘rooted in the Greek words amarantos, ‘immortal’ and anthos, ‘flower’.

Summary:  ‘A smile tugs at her lips.’ AU, not much more specific than that really. Sorry for how late this is! Straight up fluff.

Weekly fic prompt for @deathberryprompts  last week’s -  ‘Possession’.

723 words.


She hums and curls her toes into the cool river of sheets, tracing figures of eight into the skin of his shoulder blades, her hair awry in a midnight halo. The sunlight filters through the slits of their curtains and lights him up like rows of embers, skin a haze of golden hues. Mornings with him are her favourite.

        He sleeps like the dead these days.

Rukia doesn’t mind. She’s like that, too, unless there’s a noise to infiltrate her hazy consciousness and leak its’ way into her dream. Today, that happened. It was the quiet tinkling of their neighbour’s wind chimes catching on that stray piping outside that still needs to be fixed — a nuisance remembered each time the weather sours, and a gush of rain assaults their living room window.

Ichigo says he doesn’t mind it too much if she’s home, but she’s not, not often. And, the wood’s beginning to grow weary of constant saturation. She imagines he is, too.

        A minute longer, and then he ought to be up.

A breath he blows into the skin of his arm reaches her cheek in a burst of warmth, and she wriggles closer, using her size to entangle herself with him in a mess of limbs and broad miles of warmed skin. An elbow may have knocked his side. His grunt rumbles through her core. Then, he burrows his hand into her hair to send a shiver done her spine, his smile a secret to his wrist.

        “Mornin’, Rukes.”

He mumbles, blowing out a slow sigh into the pillows and easing the tension out of his muscles with reaching movements, rolling onto his side in a languid turn to greet her morning hair with deft fingers.

Rukia looks gorgeous in their mornings — all of the time. But, there’s a hidden kind of beauty that he finds in her skin amidst the realities they share just between the two of them. Pale and glowing - ethereal; like the moon.

      She scowls at the tugging of her hair, feigning seriousness in a moment of unique, unperturbed calm. Nothing but the sound of their breaths mingling in the space between them rocks the room.

        Violet meets rust.

He grins and catches his lip between his teeth, worrying the skin until it turns pink and rosy to compliment the bursting warmth of his face, certainly favoured by sunlight.

        A smile tugs at her lips.

If she closed her eyes between breaths it’d scarcely matter; the placement of each freckle is so imprinted in her mind she can record each mark and change of tone in his tiny constellations. Her eyes trail to his, their sepia canvases seeping with that molten amber that just thrums affection.

It’s that soft, gooey look that he gives sometimes, when he’s completely open. She is unprepared. Every. Single. Time.


She starts, straining away from his warm grasp to shift the sudden flutter in her chest, sitting straight. Her gaze is fixed on his feet, speckles reaching even his ankles.

“What’s your favourite thing?”

      “Huh? Like, an item?”

She shrugs, “A possession, sure.” His voice is still hoarse with sleep; it suits the mess of hair atop his head.

      He hums, sitting upright and coiling his arms about her midriff, two solid supports that seep warmth into the skin of her back; he presses a tender kiss into the dip of her collarbone. Rukia rests her hand easily on his knee now situated by her side.


She feels a singing under her skin as she turns her head, meeting that pure shred of his soul he bears now and then, and lets him cling to her tighter, his knuckles lighting jostling her elbows.

        “‘Course, I don’t own you…”

“…If anything, I own you.” She muses, chuckling and burying a kiss into the hair above the nape of his neck, “You’re like a stray cat. So needy… following me around all the time… bringing me dead—“

      “One time! And I didn’t even kill the poor guy, he flew into your stupid birdhou—“

Their lips seal in an abrupt, heated embrace, and his reply is lost to the fire that suddenly quivers under her fingertips.

        When they part, she breathes,

“You’re mine, too.”

      In that moment, she is sure her eyes bear that same kind of frankness that his do.

Morning Cuddles

“Lance.” Keith’s voice rang out into the otherwise silent room.

“Mmm..,” came the tired reply.

“Lance, let go I have to go train,” Keith said, voice sounding stern.

“Nooo…. stay here a cuddle more..” the taller boy replied, burying his face in the dip between Keith’s shoulder blades. His arms tightened around Keith’s waist, keeping him in place.

“Lance, we cuddled all night long. I need to go train now,” Keith said matter-of-factly.

Lance shook his head. “Nope. Skip it today. You’re mine right now,” he snarked.

Keith sighed in exasperation and turned around in Lance’s arms to face him, looking him in the eye. “Seriously?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lance nodded. “Seriously,” he said, peppering kisses all over his boyfriend’s face. “One day without training isn’t going to kill you. Stay and relax for a little bit.”

Keith struggled for a few more minutes, trying to get Lance to let him go, but it was no use. He finally gave up with a huff, crossing his arms.

Lance grinned, kissing the tip of
Keith’s nose. “You’re adorable.”

“Shut up,” Keith mumbled, feeling his face heat up as he turned away from Lance again, only to be pulled back firmly against his chest.

They stayed like that for quiet a while, falling into a comfortable silence. Lance snuggled his face in Keith’s hair and smiled when he felt the other boy’s breathing even out again, soon letting himself fall back asleep as well.

I am so tired tbh but I was in a klance mood and my brain wouldn’t let me sleep until I got this out. I know it sucks but it’s late and I’m running on three hours of sleep so sorry lmao, but enjoy.

anonymous asked:

Your opinion on: grunkle4grandpa (you probably know this but the theory that stan is actually the twin's grandfather)

Hmm. I overall find G4G cute, haha…it’s just hard for me to grasp what’s true and what’s not when you’ve never even seen Dipper and Mabel’s parents and grandpa. They’ve only been mentioned. I still want answers for the baby back in ATOTS, y'know?? Is it Shermie? Is it Stan’s or Shermie’s kid?? I mean I mainly just stick with Stan being a Grunkle I guess since that’s what he’s always been known as in the series. But. I don’t know.

And there’s other things I’ve noticed that make me wonder…like Stan mentioning Carla in the 3DS game, and other stuff. It’s just…a lot of questions and confusion over the Pines family history. xD

I mainly just want answers, as I’m not sure what to think. But secretly a part of me would love to see it be canon…? ovo

hey cuties

so I’m starting a youtube channel soon (ive talked about this on my main) for vlogs and fun videos and just for me to have a place to talk about nonsense; but if there’s anything (not fandom related) that you want to see me talk about, or if you have any ideas you think you be funny, send them my way! thanks!!!!

and if you’d actually watch my vlogs/vids, like this post!!!!!