kicking up sand

i want a scene where anakin’s kickin it at padme’s and he’s fiddling with some piece of machinery and padme’s having some girl talk with a fellow senator who’s complaining about how she’s been getting beard burn from her lover or whatever, and anakin, without looking up, just chimes in “have him trim it to medium length and use beard oil on it every night. works like a charm.” and the senator is like “oh. thank you. i’ll have him do that.” and padme just side-eyes the fuck out of anakin like “yes, thank you anakin. though since when have you, my clean-shaven friend, been an expert on beard care?” and anakin’s like “congrats i played myself”

theoi as Aesthetics™ cause i feel like it ig


sunlight beaming through dark clouds, cold winds that burn your cheeks, lightning that illuminates the sky for just a fraction of a second, strong wings and sharp talons


golden rings slightly dulled after years of wear, lotus flowers floating upon pools of water, wedding gifts wrapped in gold paper, peacock feathers that glimmer in the sun


jagged rocks decorated by barnacles and seaweed, clouds of sand kicked up by a horse galloping across a seashore, rusted old treasures lost to the deep ocean, waves that lap gently over the sand or crash fiercely against the rocks


large dogs bearing sharp teeth, old coins blackened and rusted by time, animal bones half-buried under dark soil, silver rings on pallid fingers


long grass brushing against your legs, freshly baked bread in a wicker picnic basket, golden honeycomb, fields of grain ready for harvest


lipstick stains in shades of red and pink, doves perched upon blossoming branches, love letters written in smudged red ink, the opalescent underside of a scallop shell


crowns of bay leaves resting on curly hair, golden instruments polished until gleaming, poems scrawled on walls in marker pen, bandages carefully wrapped over wounds


feather-tipped arrows, flowers and leaves braided into a wreath, deer drinking from a brook in the forest, moonlight shining through the evergreen branches of tall trees


bandages over bruised and scratched knuckles, flaming molotovs soaring through the air, crossed swords mounted on old walls, fading scars that stretch across shoulder blades


books with creased spines and dog-eared pages, owls with thick feathers and wide eyes, ornate swords and shields from ancient eras long forgotten, sharp eyes full of wisdom and knowledge


limbs tangled in red velvet sheets, wild and uncontrolled laughter, garlands of ivy and purple flowers, red wine spilling over the glass, kissing the lips of marble statues


gears that fit together like puzzle pieces, the soft crackling of a fire, palms stained with oil and soot, the methodic clanking of iron hitting iron, gifts of handmade jewellery


shoes worn through from walking, antique maps and globes and golden compasses, a messenger bag filled with letters and parcels, sly smiles and deft hands


warm clean sheets, a small vase of flowers on the windowsill, warming your hands near the fireplace, cups of tea and home-baked fairycakes

mirandatam  asked:

Hm... something about Rey and the ghost of Shmi Skywalker?

Rey is 273 days on Jakku when the woman with the dark eyes and the faint lines around her eyes bends down, and helps her wash the dust and debris from a hyperspace drive port. (Two and a half portions, never let it be said that Rey doesn’t know her worth.) “There,” the woman says, and when she smiles the lines around her eyes carve even deeper. When Rey drags the brush over the drive port, no sand kicks up. “Shiny and new. Go on, now—you can’t let him run out of portions.”

“’m Rey,” Rey says, breathless, clutching the port to her chest.

“Go!” the woman says, and Rey runs. She gets in line just in time to get the last three portions from Unkar. But when tries to find the woman after—

The sand is empty of sentients, and no one seems to know the human woman with dark hair, darker eyes, not even when Rey wanders among the camps and asks for her. Rey is only 273 days, and hungry, and so she eats there, squatted down in the sand outside someone’s tent—scarfing down half-mixed portions because she’s dizzy with starving, and she can’t wait. If the dark-haired woman wanted some, she should have been easier to find.

Rey sleeps that night full—or, at least, what she thinks is full—and dreams of a wattle-and-daub hut, and a woman with dark hair, dark eyes, laughing. The woman’s son sits with sun-bleached hair, his mouth is skewed as he works on a droid to help his mother with the customers that come. Rey helps too, and when he smiles at her, it feels like coming-home.

They are so happy, and Rey wakes crying, even though that is water she cannot afford to lose.


“No, not that one,” the woman says, and Rey drops the part like it burns her hand to touch. She whirls around, and there is the woman with the dark eyes, dark hair. She’s smiling, a little bemusedly, at Rey, at the specific part Rey was trying to extract from the mess of decay and rust.

“What’s wrong with it?” Rey demands. She is six hundred and seven days now, and she thought—

“Navigation systems are fiddly,” the woman says, stepping towards her, and then she is there, close enough for Rey to touch, to—“Biologic growth damages them first, interferes with the electro-magnetic signaling. This has—” she grunts, and the part comes away in her hand. “This has overgrown. It’s not worth installing again, it’ll just send the ship off-course trying to follow all those awful fractals.”

“What good does that do me?” Rey asks, thinking of all the portion she’s lost, if this stranger is right. She’d just wanted—

But the stranger smiles, and her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Come on,” she says, lowering herself to sit on the durasteel floor of the mighty star destroyer. “I’ll show you a trick my unscrupulous master showed me, on how to make it look as though tech has never been damaged.”

Rey spends the whole afternoon with her chin hooked over the woman’s soft shoulder, watching as she shows Rey how to reroute, undo, lay down new electric pathways. She smells like something sharp, the way Rey has always imagined ozone would smell if Rey had ever found the courage to leave the atmosphere. Her eyes are older than her face, that much Rey knows for sure.

“There you go,” the woman finally says, pressing the piece into Rey’s hand. “Good as new. Plutt won’t even be able to tell the difference, so you shouldn’t accept less than five and a quarter portions—”

“What about you?” Rey asks. The woman is warm, and alive, and human, and Rey finds herself hoping she’s her mother. Just to have something, someone. And especially her, with her crinkled eyes, the way she rests a hand against Rey’s cheek like—

“Oh, I’m fine,” the woman says, and Rey’s heart falters. “You will be full, on five and a quarter portions. That’s enough.”

Rey eats alone, eats until she is sick on constituted bread and meat, and she lies in her own bed biting down on her fist to keep herself from crying.


Sometimes, Rey looks out of the corner of her eye, and there she is, the woman with the dark hair and the dark eyes. “Hello, Mother,” Rey begins greeting her at some point, muttered in between breaths as she extracts another part, as she wakes from her midday nap in the shadowy berth of a star destroyer, as she forces herself to stay longer, work harder.

Sometimes, she hears someone murmur, hello, daughter, but she’s not sure. She’s not.


Poor affection-starved Rey, longing for a family, any family, even a ghost. Even the vague shape, even a shadow. Even the hint of a mother, whispering in her ear, droids have always been harbingers of good news, of better things ahead. Strangers may be angels. You are more. Run, go. I will follow you there.

Rey  isn’t sure, really, but in the barracks of D’Qar, Rey tosses and turns, until a cool hand comes to rest on her forehead, her neck. Shhh, a voice that is not quite the Force but might be something similar, whispers. It strokes its cool knuckles over the rabbit-pulse of her jugular. Shh, rest. You have a war to fight in the morning.




Luke has holos of his family—Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker, Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru Whitesun-Lars. But it’s the holo of their their step-mother, Shmi, that stops Rey in her tracks, stops her breathing at all. Anakin’s mother, Luke says, but Rey is holding onto he lightsaber too tightly to hear.

I know her, she says, and Luke goes still, blinks. 


She used to—sing me lullabies, Rey says, because that’s all she can remember just now, the dark-haired-dark-eyed woman—Shmi Skywalker, chosen to be Mother of the Living Force, blessed, holy—humming in Rey’s darkened AT-AT. Shmi singing in Huttese; warm and calloused hands, a rough voice singing of how much she loved, would protect—

Luke catches Rey before she hits her knees, gathers her up to his chest. Shh, Luke murmurs, stroking her hair as Rey sobs. Shhh, it’s all right. Everything will—it’ll turn out right. It’ll be—it’ll be right.

Rey feels a cool touch at her forehead (impossible, Luke’s hands are hot at her waist, and—) and she sobs again, feeling hollow, feeling like she’s come home, somehow, impossibly. It is a war, she shouldn’t feel….

Shh, Luke and his grandmother whisper together, cradling Rey against the bulwark of light they represent. Shh.

Rest Stop Part 4

When Lance woke up, his arm wasn’t a bloody mess anymore and he could hear something other than his heartbeat trying to dash out of his body. Exhaling, he scanned the room and realized the quite chatter he heard was from upstairs. It was probably the refugees. He blinked.

The refugees. Wait.

Sleep chamber knees or not, Lance scrambled out of the pod, his armor ruining the impact of the floor when he tripped. Lance kind of needed something to smack some sense in him as he frantically ran for the door.

Keith? Is Keith okay? Is Pidge? Where’s the team? I don’t see anyone in a pod, so that either means everything’s okay or someone’s dead-

Where’s my helmet?

Really, Lance? Now? Of all times?

The itch for to find it doesn’t make much sense until Lance remembers there are communication systems in his helmet. I’m a genius!

After three seconds of looking around the room like an idiot, Lance spots it on top of his folded jacket and jeans. His shoes sat next to them. Someone must have thought to leave them there for him, which was nice, but he wasn’t going to take off his armor until he knew no one was dead or in danger. Picking it up, he pushes it on his head and sighs as it turns on at his DNA signature. “Hello, anyone there?”

“Lance!” Allura’s pleased voice overwhelms him for a second, but he focuses on what she says. “I’m glad you’re awake. All the prisoners are located in the ballroom, and there were only a handful of injuries. Your fellow paladins are safe and doing recon at the moment. You can change into your regular clothes and join them in you wish, but Coran and I wouldn’t mind you hanging back.”

He smiles. Good, everyone was accounted for. “Nah, I’ll go.” He says, shucking off the armor on his calves. He pulls it off while Allura chatters on. “Okay, I’ll send them a message to let them know you woke up and will be joining them shortly. They’re on the coast of this island, which is relatively small, so you’ll be fine walking out the castle door and straight. Rest up when you’re done. We can’t have a paladin tired from battle injuries. Don’t think you can get away with it either. Hunk has a drone with him that monitors the rescue and I will see if you try anything reckless.”

“Okay, Allura.” He laughs, removing his chest plate. She huffs, and says goodbye, the switches off the coms. Lance pulls off his helmet and peels away his flight suit. His back is wide, exposed, and easy to see.

He knows. He knows. He should hurry.

Keith toes a thick chip of metal, flipping it over in a pile of rubble. They’ve just cleared out another jetty, reeling in prisoners with Pidge’s bayard on the floating escape pods, and pointing out the direction they should walk for help. A furry pile of three distinct round mounds hops past quickly, fluffy pastel fur tickling the other colors. It chirps in thanks before speeding up. Cold, dry hands pat Keith on the arm in gratitude as a leathery mix of tree and human walks past, thin legs extending to move the whole body like it’s floating above it.

He huffs. He wants Lance.

Yeah, he could admit it. Lance, was a solid person to have beside him. He always had Keith’s back, he was loyal and funny, and he had just taken a bullet for him. He wanted to make sure he was okay. He wouldn’t stop looking back, searching for a rustle in the bushes and a bright smile, his heart lighter but impatient without Lance.

Keith sighed and crossed his arms, smiling tiredly.

Yeah, he really couldn’t wait to have his sharpshooter by his side again.

After all, a good team takes two.

Lance tugs on the waistband of his jeans and slips on his shoes.

His armor is a heap on the floor in front of the pod - he’ll have to come pick it up later. Anxiety twirls around by his feet and dances up towards his back. His exposed back. There’s a problem. He needs to cover his tan skin immediately. But he hadn’t been left a shirt. He’d have to wear just his jacket and not take it off.

They did “salvage” in casual clothes for a reason. The armor, as protective as it was, added weight. It might have been light and flexible, but it still got in the way of some maneuvers, and if someone fell in water, it would weigh them down. Even if the helmet had life support, it only lasted so long. There were too many “what if’s” when it came to the armor and water. Their best chance at surviving was getting to the surface as fast as possible. Unnecessary weight would slow them down.

Funny how Lance was only physically light. He sunk like a rock everywhere else.

It was ironic how many people would want him to drown when he was the only one who could swim.

Stuffing his arms inside, Lance shrugged on his jacket, and zipped it up. He passed through the halls like a ghost, the survivors busy chattering around him. Demon held inside his jacket, he walked out into the semi tropical rainforest.

It was the worst possible situation.

Lance had just brushed past a leafy bush to have the sea roar in his ears and salt hit his lips. The team was hovering over the rocky coast that disappeared into the blue ocean, craving to save the pod tittering on a small cliff of rock, but unable to risk crossing the water. The pod was absolutely trashed , the spike of obsidian piercing the buoyancy - if it fell, it’d sink to the bottom. Flying out would get them both killed - the pod could fall and take one of the team down, trapping them in the waves, and both the prisoners and them would drown. But what made it horribly, horribly worse was who was in the pod.

“Dad! Matt!”

Two recongzinable faces peered out the door way, the door probably having been ripped off in the crash. Matt was gripping the edge, bracing himself and using his leg to hold back a weary Samuel Holt. He was definitely injured, unconcious, the small trail of dark blood dripping off into the ocean. The sea rocked and churned underneath them, an uncomplete death sentence, and the pod creaked ominously, ready to give in and crash at any second. Dread sat heavy on Lance’s tongue.


Shiro was grasping Pidge by a hand, his face terrified but trying to gain control. Pidge wasn’t struggling against Shiro- she was struggling against herself, desperation written in her features, but the menacing roll of the ocean warded her away. All she wanted was to save them, Lance could tell, but her body was screaming to flee the water, to fly, to escape being dragged from the sky, dragged to a heavy, wet death. Hunk and Keith looked like a watered down version - scared, cautious motions back and forth, unsure and scared.

Lance’s hand was already playing with his zipper.

Everything about Matt screamed tense and near frantic. Tensed like a cat, his body locked against the open air, sagging like an acrobat on ropes, Matt clearly was trying to find a way out of this without killing himself, his dad, or his sister. But he hadn’t found a possibility. If he moved, the pod would tilt with his weight, or his dad would fall into the water. No one could fly out to them - he’d have to get off himself. But he couldn’t move, the floor of the pod wrecked with a spike behind him and Samuel supported by his leg.

Lance could be that possibility.

Like a sick bird that had finally had enough, the pod plummeted in the water with the screech of torn metal.

Pidge’s heartbroken scream matched it.

Lance was tearing out of his shoes and jacket, tossing it in the sand, head leaps and bounds ahead of him. Sand kicked up from his sprint sprayed the droid and the team as he raced past. Lance could feel their incredulous stares go from the flooded hunk of metal to his bare back, but it didn’t freeze the determination in his veins. He dove in the water with a splash.

Calm was the first word in his mind when the swirling blue washed over his head. It was calm here, the gentle roll of the current miles below him. He was light, weightless. The second word was control. In water, Lance was in command, a quiet authority. He pushed and pulled himself along, arms scooping out his way. Quick, strong kicks brought him to the submerged metal ship, and he pressed two hands to the metal, looking for the window. This ocean wasn’t his, wasn’t theirs’s. They needed to get out soon.

Gliding in through the empty window frame, Lance slinked up to search over the jagged metal and broken, dead wires. Matt’s transfixed face meet his. His eyebrows furrowed, and for someone who should be drowning, he was doing remarkably well at staying calm.

Matt stared at him as if he was a mirage almost, but Lance could tell Matt was the kind who didn’t care as long as they didn’t die. Tapping the roof of cramped pod, Lance waited for Matt to nod before reaching over and working Samuel over the barrier with him, pulling the older man into his arms. A cut craved out a thin line across his calf, a blood came from a smaller one of his head. He was clearly passed out and needed to be brought to the surface ASAP. Lance smiled and held up one finger, then two. Realizing Lance would come back for him, Matt nodded sagely and floated back.

Propelling off the wall, Lance left water dragging behind him. The weight in his arms was incredible - the man wasn’t much shorter than him but had to weigh almost twice as much with his wings.

Thick and waterlogged, they curved and looked fluffy like Pidge’s. Lowered with age, his wings dragged behind him like a pair of broken airplane wings. Streaked with brown and gray darker than Pidge’s, they’d ironically cause the man they made light to drown like an anchor if Lance let go.

He doesn’t dare tempt this new ocean.

Breaking past the surface with a gasp, Lance clutches Samuel to his chest and awkwardly swims to shore with one arm. Scrambling up the loose, wet clumps of sand, he ignores the stricken staring of them team and flips Samuel on his back.

He starts pumping Samuel’s chest.

Come on, come on.

He’s on a time limit, damnit!

He pushes harder, and Samuel suddenly jerks against him, coughing water out of his lungs. Lance takes the second to arrange him on his side so he doesn’t choke on his own vomit, then dashes back into the ocean. His kicks are a last-ditch effort that pay off, literally almost ramming himself into the pod. He yanks himself through the window and nearly slices his hand open on the broken metal wall. He might not be able to fly, but he can swim and save someone drowning. He can. He can, no matter how worthless he is. It is called a trash can - not a trash cannot. (He thinks that’s a line from some anime, but he doesn’t have time to really ask himself if he made a refrence while saving someone drowning. He probably did).

Matt’s lips are turning blue when Lance arrives. His jaw is set and cheeks ballooned out, precious oxygen held inside. Quickly, he reaches out to Lance, who helps him over the wreckage. Wrapping his arms around Lance’s neck, he tucks himself against his body. Lance latches an arm around him, careful to hook it under his wings. They are near replicas of Pidge’s, though clearly entering the final stages. Less childish, more rectangular in design, with darker hints of brown. The tops poke Lance gently in the face, but the bottoms are pressed to Matt’s knees.

Using the smooth sheet of metal as a boost, Lance rushed up to the surface, leaving the pod to sink even faster than before. The distance was greater, the weight heavy, and the time less, but he’d have wings before he let go of Matt.

Bobbing to the surface, he gulps in air. Matt is sucking in giant breathes against his neck, giggling and trembling with relief. He even happy kick-spams to shore with Lance.

But relief is far, far, away from Lance.

The weight of a wingless world crashes on his back, so, so much heavier than Matt or Samuel.

His shoes are too far away.


He doesn’t wait for the team to ask questions, doesn’t give the anxiety and self hate a chance to strike, snatching up his jacket. There’s a quick “Hey-” before water is filling his ears again, and he’s swimming out, swimming away. Desperation and adrenaline sing in his veins, overruling this sea’s temper. This isn’t his ocean. The pushes and pulls are closer to shoves and yanks, semi-aggressively telling him to leave, but Lance makes his way through anyhow. Currents a similar shade of blue to the ones from Earth twirl around him, tiny air bubbles decorating them like stars. It’s frigid, a cold, agitated embrace that makes Lance burn in a satisfying way. He wasn’t like the others, he couldn’t be. No one wanted a wingless. Nothing was ever permanent, not even love.

Lance comes up for air, swallowing a lungful before smoothing back down into the deep. The few seconds he’s up, he hears the team,incomprehensible , but they’ve figured out he’s leaving. Fear pounding at the brittle door calm forces up in his head, Lance dives deeper, the water turning darker without the sunlight. He can still see, but the water is a murky, dusty blue, not the clear, aqua where the light reflects easily. His speed is probably breaking any records he’s had before. Nothing like the people you came to love hating you to make you have a lighting fast exit.

Rocketing through the water, Lance left giant disturbances in his wake. Air bubbles burst out of existence behind him. He had already shifted when he came up for air - his hands curved out his path with the webbing, and the water pressure boxed gently on his ears. His knees weren’t knees anymore, just two long, flat masses of flesh and bone that shot him through the water. The second pair of eyelids he had blinked out any grime in the water, the rhythm different and more pronounced than his first pair. His tongue pressed against the sharp eyeteeth in his mouth, the threat of nicking his tongue grounding him.

He doesn’t know how long he swims, limbs throbbing with fluid energy. He goes until rocks start to spike up, some gentle curves and other sudden daggers slicing through the water. Miles below, he can spot the muddled, bright light purple and galaxy red glow of underwater volcanoes in the darkness. Lance hasn’t seen anything alive yet, but he knew better than to test it by exploring near lava.

Gliding up against the smooth rock, Lance spots the openings to caves, pretty corals fanning out from them and shells dotted here and there. Clutching his jacket tighter, he twists through one. It’s small, and hallow, the water pooling much lower than the majority of the rock. The roaring of the waves crashing washes over the cave, but the cave shelters him. Coal black rock juts out here and there, blocky, but gorgeous in the way only sea caves were. Soft colored crystals lit up small patches of shadow, a handful clustered around an alcove.

Carefully, he clambers up the dry rock to the opening and settles back into it, his knees pulled to his chest, cheek resting against the even rock. The anxiety coils up inside his neck.

Now they despise you.

I mean, why wouldn’t they?

Even you despise you.

Useless, ugly, waste of space. Wingless.

Just drown in that goddamn ugly water you call home.

It suits you.

Nothing but extra weight.

God, why do you exist?

Chilly air pricks at Lance’s bare feet. He tucks himself tighter, wriggling his toes. His jacket is drenched, but he drapes it around the exposed parts of his back. He clings to the rock, hoping the warmth will come back. He’s not freezing, but numb, like rain soaked pavement.

Leave already!

He could stop here, lulled by the tune of a sea that wasn’t his, void emotions filling up his silhouette, abandoned by himself, half asleep in a crevice with a mundane storm brewing over head.

Yes, this would make a good rest stop.

anonymous asked:

8 sunbathing :)


Izuku is spread across the beach towel sunbathing, his bare chest glistening with sweat and sand, his arms pillowing his head as he snoozes. The rest of the class is scattered along the shore and boardwalk, soaking in the sun and the ocean, and happily going about their own activities.

“Dude, you’ve been staring for nearly an hour.”

“Shut up and die.”

Snickering, Kaminari takes the half eaten sandwich from Katsuki’s hand and scarfs it down when Katsuki barely reacts, eyes intent on where Izuku is napping a few yards away.

“Bakugou, you really need to man up,” Kirishima says from the other side of the picnic table where he’s distractedly eating his own lunch. 

Sero nods encouragingly beside him, his face serious and a little desperate, adding on, “It’s been three years. Just go talk to him or something? I hate to say it, but this is getting a little painful to watch.”

Kaminari flinches back, expecting explosions and yelling, along with the usual and unconvincing denials. But Katsuki only continues glaring at Izuku, before he finally stands with water bottle in hand and a quiet hiss of, “Fine.” 

“Go get him dude,” Kirishima whispers with two thumbs up, Kaminari and Sero gaping as Katsuki walks mechanically towards their sleeping classmate. The Class 1A girls pause their conversation to watch as well.

Katsuki looms over Izuku for a long moment.

“Is he… just going to stand there?” Kaminari whispers, alarmed as the minutes tick by.

Sero buries his head in his hands.

Finally, finally, Katsuki moves. Kaminari groans as he watches his friend hurl the bottle of water into Izuku’s gut, screeching over Izuku’s pained and surprised spluttering, “IF YOU’RE GOING TO SLEEP ON THE BEACH, MAKE SURE YOU DO IT IN THE SHADE AND STAY HYDRATED, YOU MORON.”

“K-Kacchan, what?!” Izuku coughs, clutching the bottle and his stomach as Katsuki stomps away. The girls all groan in unison, Ashido actually going so far to theatrically cry into Uraraka’s shoulder.

“Dude,” Sero says despairingly as Katsuki thunders by. “What the fuck.”

Katsuki pauses and his scowl twists into something a little more wide-eyed and disturbed. “I… panicked,” he says faintly.

“Oh my god,” Kaminari whispers as Katsuki kicks up sand in his retreat. “He’s absolutely hopeless. What are we going to do when Midoriya actually does start dating someone?”

“I don’t think you have worry too much,” Kirishima replies, grim and nodding his head to the side. Kaminari turns and catches an eye full of Izuku’s fond, exasperated smile, gingerly holding Katsuki’s water bottle like it’s a gift from god. The three friends watch as Izuku stands and trots slowly after Katsuki, a big dopey grin growing on his freckled face as he goes.

“Somehow, this is worse,” Kaminari says, and Sero sighs in commiseration.


#016.5 - Pidgey are docile Pokemon that dislike fighting, and will hide in tall grass and defensively kick up sand in an attempt to avoid conflict. However, they grow bolder with age, and will actively seek to claim and defend an area of land, which they gradually expands as they grow stronger. A maturing Pidgey’s eyesight grows sharper with age, allowing them to detect prey and threats to their territory with extreme accuracy. 

#017.5 - Pidgeotto sport an impressive crest of pinkish feathers on their head, which grow into a dazzling plumage of glossy feathers as they age. These Pokemon grow to be some of the largest “Bird Pokemon,” and appropriately develop large, powerful weapons, as well as the ability to fly incredibly quickly; reaching Mach 2 speed once fully evolved. These impressive predators of the sky are common partner Pokemon for early trainers who are attracted to their beauty and power.

Named: Pidgey - Pidget - Pidgeotto - Pidgeite - Pidgeot

- - - - - - - - - -

Follow for more In-Progress Pokemon evolutions!

FAQ | Social Media | Pokemon Index | Commission Information

ask-the-holiday-nightguards  asked:

Okie. I think it was yours that was about Lance's about Lance's home life with the abusive father. And that got me thinking about a different take on it. What if, his father promised his mother a lot of things. Going to college (if they could) after he did. Never having to work a day in her life after he couldn't send her to college. Getting to go on a vacation after they raise enough money and then not being able to do that ect. (1/2)

After Lance turns 13, he hears his parents argue every night about funds and gets the brute end of it. With him being the one who has to care for his younger siblings because his older siblings have all left for different reasons. Ending is up to you (2/2)
Oh okay!! This is really cool and interesting. I hope you like it!!
We all have little problems about ourselves that we just can’t help. Some people have a problem with lying, while others may have trouble with stealing. Lance’s dad problem was always making promises. More specifically, promises he couldn’t keep. Ever since Lance could remember, he could always hear his dad making promises to his mama.
“Mi amor, I promise that when the kids go off to college, I’ll do the same. Get an education to create a better living for ourselves.”
“Marcia, I promise you that I will take you and our family on a grand vacation. Take a break from the beach and go somewhere with grassy plains and mountains as far as we can see.”
But he would never keep them. It wasn’t his fault really. It just that all the promises he made had something to do with money. Money they didn’t have. Lance knew this from the late night arguments that would often wake him and his younger siblings awake. He would round them all up, and tuck them back into their shared bed, whispering small reassurances, lulling them to sleep. Lance would then creep down the stairs, wincing every time the old wooden steps creaked underneath his feet. He slowly lowered himself on the stairway, sitting on the steps. He could see the shadows of his mom and dad in the kitchen, safe from their view.
“Diego, we can’t afford this. We’re struggling to pays the bills as is, and we were late last month. We can’t keep doing this.”
“Marcia, it will be okay! I promise-”
“No!! I’ve had it with your ‘promises!’ The promise you never keep, that fill me with false hope!” His mother hisses.
“Well what do you expect me to do? I’m doing everything that I can! If Lance would grow up and get a job, he could help the family out!”
“You know that Lance does plenty around the house. He the oldest now since his older siblings left and gotten married! He watches the younger kids. He helps me so much. Cooks dinner, cleans, puts the children to rest. What more can he do?”
“He can get. A. Job. Something to get money from! Work at the local market or farm! He could put that prodigy brain of his to use and find a way to make money!Anything!”
Lance shakily let out a breath. He eyes began to sting, and he could feel the water begin to form. He would do anything to help his family.
Marcia let out a long sigh. “We will work this out, Diego. But for now, let’s get back to bed. We’re lucky we didn’t wake the children. Again.”
Lance held his breath as he listen to his parents footstep fade away to their bedroom. Lance let a few tears escape as he slowly made his way back to bed, legs lightly shaking and his jaw set. He would find a way to help provide for his family. Even if it killed him.
A few days later, Lance walked down the sandy beaches of his home to get the mail that his mother asked him to. His hands were in his pockets as he kicked up sand and whistled a random tune. When he got to their rusty old mailbox, he brushed away the dust and the beginnings of a cobweb. When he reached in to retrieve the mail, he felt a thick envelope. Curious, he took it out, flipping it around him in hands, trying to find the addressor. With wide, disbelieving eyes, he ran his fingers over the top the envelop. Addressed to him personally was a letter from the Garrison.

(Hint hint wink wink: this melts in with my Prodigy Lance Fic near the end)*****

Ocean Eyes

Based on this song.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST!

Originally posted by thesilentages

I’ve been watching you
For some time
Can’t stop staring at those ocean eyes

Infatuation was synonymous with stupidity for you, a girl who didn’t believe in the magic of fairy tales. Fate did not drive people to love, it drove them to greatness; a conduit for the ambitious to make sense of the talents guarded by self-doubt and reservation. You liked to think that no matter what happened, a higher power would be looking after you, centring you to the right course, sending winds to fill your sails along the correct path. If they were Gods, angelic creatures, or a simple act of nature, they did not bother themselves with the entangling of hearts. Love wasn’t as important as true purpose, and your purpose was to be great. You had set your sights high, expectations low. After all, the Gods were anything but fair.

You had excepted this understanding of the world, of what would come and how it was influenced. And then he had to come along, untangling every red string, unravelling the complex map until it was just a heap of yarn. He enticed you, enveloping your thoughts no matter how hard you tried to shut him out. Even in sleep, when darkness would encapsulate your mind, the oceans would burst through with ferocity, demanding to be felt, forcing you under the waves. You were drowning, and falling at the same time. A nightmare disguised as a dream.

You were the shadows, the eyes lurking from the back of the room. The steady thrum of an evening storm, the eventual fade of an echo. He had pulled you into the harsh light, holding your hands so you couldn’t cover your eyes. He had turned your thunder into lightning, your echo into a scream. And he had tugged you under, forcing you to paddle upwards, terrified and choking for air. Then once you’d break the surface, another wave would throw you back into the depths. He made you feel unpredictable and irrational, made you question everything you thought you were.

But the ocean could be calm too. For every wild storm, there were still days. Days where he’d send you a smile, or call your name softly, beckoning you to join him in the shallow, innocent waters.

That’s how he managed to always catch you in a riptide.

Keep reading

Fish Out of Water pt6

Humans are weird, and when you get the chance to get to know one and understand them better, you take it. But there are rules about interfering with human affairs, and breaking them might come at a higher price than you were willing to pay.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Reader x Yoongi

Mermaid Au

Fluff, humor, maybe some angst? Not much though.

Warning: This chapter contains partial nudity. It isn’t really a big deal, but thought I should warn you.

Had someone warned Yoongi two weeks ago that he would soon fall for a mermaid, he would have laughed for several reasons;

1. Mermaids were fictional.

2. Even if they were real, why would one talk to him?

3. What would he have in common with a mermaid anyway? Probably nothing, so it would never work out.

Even now the thought was preposterous, but there was no doubt in Yoongi’s mind. You were very real, and he was falling head over heals for you.

There was something about the care-free way you walked, the wonder in your eyes, the way you smiled at him, and the way you believed in the goodness in people that made him feel like his heart might just stop.  

He wished he could tell you how he felt and get it over with, then he would know if you felt the same–though, he had no idea what he would do if you did; Could humans and mermaids date? But he felt that telling you would just further complicate your already complicated life, which was something you didn’t need right now. 

“Earth to Yoongi.” Jimins hand waved in front of Yoongi face impatiently. “Hellooo, is anyone there?” 

Yoongi swatted Jimins hand away, frowning at his friend. “Alright, sorry. Stop.” 

Jimin folded his arms. “You’ve been staring into that glass for the last ten minutes. Minah was starting to think you’d gone catatonic.” 

Yoongi had remembered to come into work that day, and while he knew he should be making it up to his coworkers for disappearing the day before, he was having a hard time focusing. His mind kept wondering back to you–did you eat lunch? Jungkook had the day off, was he being nice to you? Were you bored? You told Yoongi that morning that you were going to try to talk to your father today, had you heard back? How would you hear back? He was fairly sure mermaids didn’t have home phones.

“You’re doing it again.” Jimin sighed. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’m fine. I just… Need some air. I’m going to take my break early, okay?” 

“You haven’t done anything though!” Minah called after him, but he was already heading for the door. He knew he was being unprofessional, but he needed a moment to clear his mind.

Why humans kept food alive in a tank to save for later, you had no idea. You wondered briefly if perhaps they were hoping for the fish to grow so they would have more to eat, but it still didn’t make any sense.

“His name is Harvey.” Jungkook said as you tapped on the glass experimentally. “Seokjin has had him for years. Like, since he was a kid, which makes that fish ancient.”

Naming food was never a good idea, but you figured it didn’t really matter. Seokjin was nice, and really good at cooking, so you didn’t mind if he was a little odd at times.

“Oh.” You watched the fish swim back and forth, staring at you with its big round eyes.

“Do you like fish?” He asked, and you glanced up at him. He had promised that he’d buy you ice cream if you beat him at the video game he taught you how to play, and you had won five times in a row. You decided that Jungkook owed you much more than ice cream, but weren’t sure what yet.

“Yes.” You said thoughtfully, turning your attention back to Harvey.

“Have you ever been to the aquarium?” Jungkook asked. In all honesty, he didn’t know what to make of you, but he knew he didn’t mind your company. Not to mention, if you were a friend of Yoongi’s, you couldn’t be so bad. Jimin had made it clear that he thought otherwise, but he was known to be a little paranoid. 

“No, what’s that?” You stood, your eyes still fixed on the fish. You were hungry, but figured it wouldn’t be very nice if you ate the snack Seokjin had been saving since he was a kid. 

“It’s where they keep fish for people to look at.” Jungkook explained. “There’re all kinds of sea creatures–even sharks. They have this one glass tunnel you can walk through, surrounded by water and fish… It’s almost like being under water with them.” 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:


Selina sipped her strawberry mojito sulkily, hiding beneath the shadow of her giant rimmed hat and her sunglasses. She frowned, watching as Damian rushed by, kicking sand up behind him as he chased Jason with a giant conch shell in his hands. Selina sighed heavily.

“When I said I wanted to go on a cruise together Bruce, I meant alone. Remind me why all your children had to come with us?”

“Needed… sun,” a voice said from beside her.

Selina started and, removing her sunglasses saw that it wasn’t Bruce beside her at all, but Cassandra. She was laying there in a swimsuit, sun tan lotion smeared all over her arms and legs. She looked very out of it.

“Um, Cassie? Honey?” Selina reached over and shook her slightly. “I think you’ve had enough sun now, you should go get some water to drink. Also where’s Bruce?”

Cass lifted her arm and pointed to the ocean. Selina squinted out towards the waves and caught sight of him and Stephanie, swimming out in the deep waters.

“Great, so you leave me here on the shore to look after all your other children,” Selina grumbled, tearing the hat away from her short hair and throwing it down on the bench. She began to count children out loud.

“Cassie, Steph, Bruce, Jason, Damian…” she rattled the names off, throwing a towel over a Cass to prevent her from getting any more sun than she already had.

She saw Dick and Duke out of the corner of her eye. Playing beachball with each other. Someone was missing. Everyone was accounted for except… who was missing?

Selina started walking towards the ocean, her toes pressing into soft sand until they tripped on something boney and hard.

“Ow,” Tim’s head said.

“HOLY SHI-” Selina shrieked and jumped away from the head protruding from the ground. “Oh my god, Tim?! The tide’s coming in, who buried you so close to the ocean?”

“Damian. He insisted it was far enough, but I knew it wasn’t,” Tim said in a dazed voice. “I guess out of all the ways to go… am I right?”

Selina sucked in a deep breath and internally screamed.

“This family is intolerable,” she muttered, using her fingers to claw away at the sand. “And now I have sand under my nails.”

She stopped and suddenly stared at Tim’s face.

“Tim. Tim? Tim, your face is very red.”

“Even the sun knows how to roast me,” Tim chuckled, his head lolling back and forward.

“I’ve seen enough,” Selina said and, whipping out her phone, called for emergency services.

Tim was taken to hospital and treated for severe heatstroke, causing the whole family to miss out on the rest of the cruise. As they all bickered amongst each other and Bruce realised the potency of his mistake, Selina retreated to the resort and caught up on some sleep in beautiful, still silence.

Selina never went on a cruise again.

anonymous asked:

For a prompt maybe... what if Lance was actually terrified of water despite him being associated with the element of water and the blue lion and coming from Cuba. The team go to a beach type planet for more bonding time and everyone finds it suspicious that Lance avoids the water. Maybe some traumatic backstory like almost drowning... cue major langst and maybe also some klance. Lance gets thrown in the water or ends up there and Keith comes in ... I leave it to you Thanks

I actually really love this idea? I always think that Lance is like One With The Water but him being freaked out by it is such a cool idea? Thank you so much!

Flashback TW(?), Almost Drowning TW(?)

It was supposed to be a day of fun and rest for the Paladins of Voltron. The beach and tropical forest islands of Lamprev were uninhabited by any intelligent life, and perfectly safe for humans. What made it better, or, to Lance, worse, was the massive blue ocean, a seeming replica of the oceans of Earth. The sky was a gentle green-blue, and the massive sun appeared much smaller and slightly warped in the thick atmosphere. 

Lance watched Pidge and Hunk run onto the beach in their swimsuits, their feet kicking up grains of silver sand. Pidge held an inflatable doughnut which Lance offhandedly wondered where they had gotten, and Hunk shrieked as he disappeared under the water after running past a drop off. Keith threw himself onto the beach, hands moving up and down to form a sand angel, and Shiro and Allura, who had wisely brought fold-able chairs, sat on their strange hovering seats.

Lance dug the large umbrella that he had brought into the sandy beach next to the box of food and refreshments he had carried down as well. Hunk beckoned him towards the water with a hand as he desperately tried to stay above the surface with just one hand, and Pidge casually kicked water in his face. Lance plastered a grin on his face, but instead fell backwards into the sand.

The sky was almost cloudless, and Lance stared up at it, imagining the vast expanse of stars that stretched out beyond the atmosphere, stars that he had seen only hours before, and somehow already missed. He missed the stars not because he wanted to be back around them, rather he missed them because of the mass of undulating water only feet away from him. The water seemed to coax out memories he had tried so hard to forget with each lapping wave against the silver sand. 

Suddenly, someone grabbed his ankle, and Lance bolted upright as Hunk pulled him into the air upside-down. Lance let out an angry protest as the tried to release himself from Hunk’s grip. The Yellow Paladin, unfortunately, held fast.

“Stop it, man!” Lance shouted, his words on the edge of panic as he fought against the memories that were steadily building up in his mind. He clawed at the ground, only stopping when the waves reached up to the sand that Hunk was walking on. The surf surged, and Lance’s head was nicked by the water. 

Fear seized him, and Lance stopped trying to protest. The memories gripped him, and Lance was dragged away from the sunny beach and into the deep, dark ocean of Earth.

Lance was seven at the time. He was a master swimmer, and he spent nearly every day at the beach and in the waves practicing and playing and enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. He didn’t realize he was out too far until he was gasping for breath, the feel of the water now totally foreign and unwelcoming against his burning, exhausted muscles. Lance let out a piercing scream, but the ocean swallowed it beneath a wave that dragged him under the surface, throwing him into its relentless tide. 

It was then that Lance realized the ocean was not his friend. The ocean was not kind to inexperienced children who thought they could do anything they pleased. The ocean was not kind to him. He realized this as the breath was knocked from him by a second wave which dragged him under before he had the chance to take a saving breath, and he knew, despite his age and limited knowledge of death, that he wasn’t going to make it back to the beach. Not alone.

Still, he struggled, pushing his muscles as fast as they could go, but he could feel everything fading. He pushed one last time, and he could see the light of the surface above him, and he couldn’t reach it. The current slowly dragged him down as the light faded.

Lance screamed as he hit the water and was immediately dragged under again. Again. He was going to drown. The panic clawed at him, and he flailed in the water, fighting against the horror as he tried desperately to remember how to think. He hadn’t saved his breath, and he could already feel the oxygen slipping out of him as he convulsed. The water dragged him downwards, and he reached for the surface in a last desperate attempt, but he couldn’t see the surface. He couldn’t see anything, save the deep blue that was crushing the air from his lungs. 

Suddenly, someone was grabbing his shoulders and turning him. Keith. Keith was holding him by the shoulders, and their eyes met. Keith’s purple eyes were calm, so calm it was infectious, and as he pulled the both of them through the water, Lance could feel the panic in his gut slowly subsiding.

They broke the surface, and Lance gasped, his lungs filling with as much oxygen as he could put in them, and he could feel tears running down his face as Keith swam the both of them to shore. He pulled Lance up and carried him to dry land before gently lowering him to the ground. Everyone was crowded around him, and Keith barked at them to back off, the look in his eyes scaring away even Allura.

“Lance, look at me.” Keith said gently, and Lance turned to the Black Paladin. He raised two fingers up, and Lance raised an eyebrow.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Keith asked.

“Is this really necessary?” Allura blurted, and Shiro hushed her.

“Two.” Lance whispered, his voice still shaking from the fear.

“Good,” Keith looked up, and his eyes met Shiro’s, “I don’t know the proper procedure for checking if he’s okay. We need Coran.” 

Shiro didn’t bother replying, instead he bolted off, leaving the Paladins alone. Hunk was crying, Pidge silently comforting him, and Allura was staring in confusion at Lance.

“Lance, are you okay?” Keith asked gently, and Lance nodded as he pushed himself up. Sand clung to his wet clothing, but he barely noticed as he hugged himself.

“When.. When I was seven, I almost drowned in the ocean.. I don’t even know what happened, who saved me.” He finally explained, and Keith touched his shoulder gently. Lance pulled Keith into a tight hug, and tears ran freely down his face.

“Thank you, Keith. Thank you so much.” He whispered, and Keith’s arms tightened around Lance as he returned the hug.

“What can I say? We make a good team.” Keith replied, and Lance chuckled softly into Keith’s shoulder.

They totally kiss after Coran checks on Lance. Thank you again for the prompt, I loved writing it!

Journey Across The World For You

Moana x Reader, minor OC

Author: Lil Lambie

Words: 1700

Warnings: None :) just a wholesome cute fic enjoy!

Request: @vivere-citta I would like to request a Moana x reader (I’m sorry, I’m obsessed with her) where the reader wishes to help her on her journey to find Maui and restore the heart, but Moana thinks it’s too dangerous. (You decide whether it’s romantic or platonic)

A/N: As always, so sorry this took so long. All the Newt ones you requested are on the way. We are really working on tackling requests and getting them out quickly. Enjoy!

His foot drew back. He measured and analyzed the field in only two moments. Kimo screamed when his foot flew forward, out from under him colliding with the coconut. You and the other kids weren’t sure whether it was an initial scream of dominance or anticipation of pain and regret.

Either way, your brother threw himself on his back and screamed. Monstrous tears pouring down his face. You ran to his side, the other kids clearing a path for you. Moana was right next to you.

“Kimo?” Moana called out. She reached out to your brother and took him in a warm embrace, until your mother came bounding over with a look of disapproval on her face.

“He deserved what he got.” you told your mother as she walked away. She only sneered then returned to comfort your brother and nurse the massive bruise that would be on his foot.

“We could’ve used a ball of tweed or something.” you said walking back to Moana.

She shook her head at you and laughs. “If you kick tweed it’s going to just fall apart. Plus, you dared him to kick it.”

“He didn’t have to say yes.” you laughed.

Moana crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head at you. She tried to force a look of disappointment on her face. You only laughed. She scrunched her nose, raised her eyebrows and bit her lip. She began to turn red. She let out a breath and a smile and laugh broke through.

“I hate you, (Y/N).” Moana tried to say with a straight face, but she only ended up laughing.

You threw your arm around her. “You know you love me.”

The two of you laughed and wandered off to sit on the beach, and let the waves tickle your fit in the sand.



“I’m so proud of you, Moana.” He embraced her and pulled her close. She wasn’t Daddy’s little girl anymore.

“Thanks, Dad.”  Moana said, with a smile. She pulled away from her father and walked towards you. There wasn’t a smile anymore.

She walked past you, the chief crown hanging in her fingers. She walked to the beach and stood on the shore, letting the waves wash over her feet.

You ran over to her. You put an arm around her. “Hey.” you said softly.

“Hey.” she replied, staring at her feet. She kicked up some sand. The crown fell beside it.

“What are you going to do?” you frowned.

The two of you sat down in the sand. “I don’t know.” she shrugged. “I don’t want to disappoint. But, staying here doesn’t feel right.” she pulled at the Heart of Tafiti. Moana glanced up at the tree. The leaves were blackening and it was only spreading. “Everyone is telling to stay and lead.”

“Not everyone.” you raised an eyebrow. “I’m with you, 100% no matter what you do. You know that. But, the real question is what do you want to do, Moana? Who is telling you what’s right? Them?” you pointed back towards the village. “Or you? Don’t forget about that voice inside of you, Moana.”


Your heads turned sharply. Moana’s parents were standing, tearfully.

“Gramma…” Moana said softly.


You stood outside the hut.

Inside, Moana clutched her dying Gramma Tala. You hadn’t gone in with her, because it was personal and she needed to do it on her own. You were just there to make sure it was alright after.

The moonlight sparkled on the water. The ocean was just behind the line of trees. There was a whole world beyond the island and Moana wanted to join it. You would follow her across the world, just to be with her.


You turned to see Moana. Her emotions shattered. You wrapped your arms around her and hugged her. She cried into your shoulder. You held her tightly. You didn’t want to see her get hurt. You didn’t want to never see her again. That seemed like a worthless life.



Moana pulled away. She looked out at the sea. “It’s calling me.”

You looked at her, her hair whipping in the wind. The moonlight cast across her face, making her tears shine. Without saying another word, she jumped off the hill and ran down towards the ocean. Her future.


Moana was ignoring you and everything else as she pulled the sails tight. “You can’t tell me not to go.” she finally said.

“I wasn’t ever going to say that, Moana.”

“Then why aren’t you saying goodbye?” she turned around.

“Because, I’m not letting you go-”

Moana started to shout. “You can’t be serious! You have always said you support me in everything I do. You’ve been telling me to follow my heart. So I am. I’m doing this with or without your support. I’m going to find Maui, show him I mean business and return the Heart and-”

“Alone!” you shouted. “I’m not letting you go alone.” your voice softened.

You stepped into the water beside Moana and stepped onto the sail boat.

“(Y/N), I…”

You shook your head. “Don’t say anything.” you reached your hand out to her. “Now are we coming or what?”

She smiled and grabbed your hand.

You stood beside her and took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

She smiled at you then looked at the sail. She took a deep breath. “Yeah.” she sighed. “Let’s do this.” she grabbed a rope and pulled it back. “I don’t know how to sail, but we can do this. I’m going to go find Maui, tell him to put the Heart back, and everything will be saved. Yeah. I can do this.”

You smiled at her with no doubt in your mind.

Moana was going to save the world.


“Moana!” you cried.

Maui flung her from the ship into the sand. You ran and helped her up. He was getting away. “Thanks for the ship!” he laughed.

He pushed it into the water. You jumped and ran at him. You yanked the paddle out of hand. Swung your arm back, full force and let him have it with one swift whack of the paddle. “Hey!” He fell into the water. He resurfaced. Angry.

You grounded yourself. Moana now by your side. You held the paddle threateningly. “We can do this one of two ways. Moan and I leave you left for dead-”

“I can’t die. I’m a Demigod.” Maui laughed.

“You can suffer.” you said firmly. “Either come with us and restore the Heart, or stay here for eternity with only your massive ego to accompany to the end of time. But as the world dies, you will have to live with the fact that it is your fault. When you could’ve done something about it.”

You were fuming.

Maui was left speechless. Moana a little bit too.

Maui sighed. “Humans. So ungrateful. Get on the boat. We’re going to go save the world.”

Moana smiled at you. Your anger softened at her smile and you smiled back at her. The three of you jumped onto the boat. Off to restore the Heart of Tafiti.


You don’t know when you knew it. Maybe it was her laugh. Her smile. Her love and determination. Maybe it was just her. Before you set sail for Tafiti and all the adventures that would follow it. All the near death experiences.

Anytime you had doubts or fears, Moana was there. You were there for her too. There never was a moment that she was truly alone. You wouldn’t let her be.

You can’t put a finger on a point in time when you knew. Maybe it was that feeling that hit you when she laughed, when you knocked Maui out with a paddle. Or her standing courageously, in front of Tafiti, just a moment from death’s touch. As she restored the heart, you felt she had truly touched your heart too.

You are lost in the haze of applause and praise. The hugs that say I-thought-you-were-gone-forever. The way you hold her all the time. Because you’re so afraid that one day it might be true. You are limp when your family smothers you in hugs and kisses. Thinking of the day you met Moana and how she changed your life forever. Replaying your journey across the world you just returned from. From the beginning she was your everything, and you weren’t going to ever let go of that. You were nothing without Moana.

You tear apart from your family and tear through the crowd. You break free of the haze. Your only focus on one girl. Pushing past everyone. Ignoring everyone who was pulling you back. Finally breaking free of the hold of your thoughts. You had a little voice of your own. It was time you started listening to it.

“(Y/N)?” Moana says, as you push her father away from her.

You just grab her and kiss her. You wrap your arms around her, and hold her as she is your everything.

Moana pulls away. Out of breath. “(Y/N)…”

“No.” you say. “I have to say this.” you hold her hands. “Moana. I would sail every sea. I would journey across the world for you.” you laugh. “I just did. Because it isn’t any different. Moana, you are my world. I don’t know when I knew it. Maybe I’ve always known. I guess I just chose to listen to my own little voice for once. For the longest time, I listened to my doubts and fears. But today I’m listening to my heart. Do you know what it is saying?”

“What?” she laughs.

You move in closer. “It’s calling for you.”

Moana kisses you and takes you by surprise. Pulling away from just a moment. “Mine too.”

You kiss with everyone’s eyes on you. But you only have one focus. A girl who isn’t even seventeen. A girl who changed your world and opened your eyes to a whole new world. A girl who is your whole world.

Her name is Moana.

Rowaelin, Lifeguard AU

Part 2

Hey kids, here is a super quick au I’ve been thinking about recently…. let me know if you want to read more :)

The midday sun pulsed above Sculls Bay, creating an endless wave of heat that made the air almost suffocating. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen and the water glimmered with shades of blues and greens.

Rowan Whitehorn sat perched atop the lifeguard’s chair, eyes scanning the shore for any sort of danger. It wasn’t particularly crowded today, but it didn’t stop him from observing the area with extreme detail. Despite being on his break, Gavriel was down by the rock pools, showing some sea snails to a group of children. Toward the centre of the beach, Fenrys and Connal were both talking to a group of bikini-clad women, no doubt flirting their way into dates. Lorcan and Vaughn sat in the lifeguard tower behind him, watching the surrounding area.

Keep reading

Rome–DeanCas Gladiator!AU

The crowd is deafening. Between the jeering, the yelling and the clapping, he can never make anything out but noise, but they seem particularly rowdy today. When Dean fought three months ago, they weren’t nearly as excited. And while he’d like to take credit for being the reason for all the extra ruckus, the novice gladiator knows they’re not cheering for him. Well they are, sort of.

They’re cheering for his blood.

If Dean had to guess, that’s what he’d put money on. Sure, there might be a couple of people gambling for him to win, but let’s face it—no one is gonna bet on the up and coming Celtic slave when there’s the Angel.

Or, at least, that’s what everyone calls him… to Dean, he’s just Cas. Castiel. Also a former slave, the two’ve them have spent months living in the barracks together. They’ve shared meals, shared life stories, shared dreams and desires, and today, they fight one another. Hopefully not to the death—though the crowd seems bloodthirsty enough, Dean hopes both he and Cas are too valuable to Crowley for either one to be lost as an investment—but certainly they’ll be expected to draw blood. Maybe break some bones.

Dean feels sick.

Because it would’ve been difficult to do if he and Cas had stopped at sharing parts of their lives and living spaces, but… but they’ve both gone ahead and done more than that. At first without meaning to but then, deliberately. Until finally, sweat soaked after training one day and on their way to wipe down Castiel had shoved Dean into the spare armory and kissed him senseless. 

It’s a thing they do, now: kissing. Sometimes in the morning, or late at night, or tucked away somewhere, but always every day and always in secret. They pleasure each other sometimes, too, when they have more than a few minutes. And, yesterday, after shoving into the same hammock under the guise of giving more room to the newcomers, Castiel whispered I love you. But when Dean had made to answer, the other had pressed long fingertips to his lips, shaking his head.

“Tell me tomorrow,” he’d said. “After the fighting’s done. Tell me then.”

“But, Cas—”

“Promise me, Dean. Promise me, we’re both coming out alive, and that you’ll tell me, then. Please.”

Dean had agreed.

In the present, the young man’s heart is in his throat as he gets pulled up the 54th elevator. The sound from the crowd becomes so loud it cracks in his ears, and he whirls around to see where exactly the threat within the arena is, kicking up sand as he goes. He meets blue eyes from halfway across the stage and gives a barely noticeable incline of his head, which Cas returns.

He will keep his promise.

now we’re alone, now we’re alive (olivia/garrus; pg)

the one where they finally trip over themselves and into each other

There’s movement beside her, and Olivia hmms as she stretches, waking up. She turns over, sliding her hand over Garrus’ chest. But he sits up and turns, setting his feet on the floor, and her hand falls away down to the soft sheets. She blinks at him in the dim light of her quarters.

“You okay?” she asks quietly. He looks strangely tense, especially considering how much tension they worked out earlier. She’s a little sore, though pleasantly so.

Garrus turns slightly and looks at her. “Yeah,” he says. “Need some water. That’s all.” The faint blue glow from the fish tank casts deep shadows across his face.

Olivia props herself up on her elbow, and the sheet falls to her bare hips. Garrus is practically a furnace, and she’d only bothered with underwear afterward. His eyes shift from hers to her waist, then back up to her face. The shadows are even darker now.

She tilts her head. They blew the Collector base and told the Illusive Man to go to hell, he’s tracked down and made his peace with Sidonis, and what the two of them have is happy, easy; it’s solid and comforting, even if it is just casual. Though she’s sure a shadow crosses her own face at the thought of never having more than casual with him, there’s no reason for his shadows.

“What’s wrong?” She draws the sheet back up and tucks it under her arms before pushing herself up, sitting beside him. “Garrus?” She sets her hand on his shoulder.

He shakes his head. “I’m fine, Shepard.” He kisses her temple and then stands up.

Keep reading

Almost Lover

Originally posted by jjeonguk

Jungkook x Reader 

Rating - 13+ (SFW)

| Oneshot | Angst | 1.3k | Warnings - Alcohol consumption. |


Description: The story of a love that almost was.

You sat on the stool with your head down, fingers drifting over the keys in front of you, a haunting and yet beautiful melody filling the small space.

Your mind was replaying memories over and over, of the man you loved. Of the man that could never love you the way that you loved him.

You had been friends since you were little, best friends, by each other’s side constantly. He was always there for you and you’d thought he always would be.

Keep reading


I woke up today to empty bottles
on my night stand
some may still have pills
some may not
it’s been a week since I last checked
I don’t want to leave the sheets
but I do
I don’t want to leave the stream
but I do
I don’t want to put on jeans
but I do
I don’t want to leave the driveway
but I turn onto the street
I don’t want to clock in
but I clock out for lunch
I don’t want to clock in
but then I clock out
when my hours are done
I don’t want to go home
because I don’t want
to be alone
so I go to the bar
because at least there
I’m just lonely with everyone
I look at pictures of my son
when I light a new cigarette
I look at old pictures
of his mom when I take
the first few sips
of a new old drink
I put in earbuds
listen to playlists
instead of new voices
I won’t fall in love with
I light cigarettes end to end
sips with strained faces
turn to empty gulp glass raises
sometimes the words come
sometimes they don’t
the scrolls in HD
never stop smiling
the air is full of empty rings
stunted tabs keep growing
men can’t be dads
with well whiskey windsor tied
to their teeth
men can’t be lovers
writing poems to winky face
ghosted ash trays
this is every day
this is my fray
the only good left in me
gets buried in letters
recipients will never read
this is how a climb leads to a slide
how a stride stumbles into crawling
this is how a crawl kicks up the sand
how the dust settles into nothing
I don’t want to leave
I don’t want to stay
I go home
to an empty bed
to empty bottles
with a full head
a heart that settles
a heart that settles

for beating

Last Jonerys Chapter Transition in ADWD

The 8th and the last chapter transition for Jonerys ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 67) is the most crucial for both of their stories and has a very parallel storytelling structure. Jon allows Tormund’s host of Wildlings through the Wall and breaks the news to the Watch. Dany goes to the opening of the fighting pits where Drogon crashes the party. 

Their chapters begin with, Dany with her handmaidens, deciding to leave for the fighting pits despite her feeling for the blood sport and Jon trying to come up with a compromise. 

She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself.

Tormund : “Whatever happened to that sweet lad I knew?”
They made him lord commander.

Dany takes a long ride with Hizdahr to the fighting pits.   

“Have you ever seen such an auspicious day, my love?” Hizdahr zo Loraq commented when she rejoined him. He helped Dany up onto the palanquin, where two tall thrones stood side by side.
“Auspicious for you, perhaps. Less so for those who must die before the sun goes down.”
“All men must die,” said Hizdahr

Jon meets Val outside Tormund’s tent. Context : She’s Mance’s sister in law, Stannis’s prisoner after the Wildling battle and the one Stannis offered Jon as a wife to seal the alliance with Wildlings when Jon was offered legitimacy & Winterfell, which he rejects. Similar to Dany’s situation, just as Hizdahr helps her bargain for peace with Harpy sons & Yunkai, Jon allowed Val to go beyond the Wall after Stannis leaves so that she can convince Tormund to bring his host and make peace with Jon. Jon & Val ride back to Castle Black and yet again,Jon makes observations which strongly resonate with Dany. 

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.
They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.
“Have you been trying to steal my wolf?” he asked her.

Originally posted by gotladies

They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

Keep reading

In war

7 Days of Christmas: Day 5- Jimin

Day 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Warning(s): Swearing & Smut

A/N: Thirst trap…yeah, thirst trap. Welcome to Day 5 of 7 Days of Christmas! Let me just say, in the simplest way possible, I really liked writing this, and it gets really steamy! So, I hope you all enjoy, and please let me know what you think, and/or if you’d like more stories like this!

Originally posted by stylishlyswift

You had never been one for following orders; if you were told to do one thing, you’d do the other, and if you were told to fix a problem a particular way, you’d make sure to fix it another. You knew that’s what made you a great officer, but you also weren’t naïve enough to think it wasn’t the reason you stayed in your place, never achieving higher than your full potential. You had no one to blame but yourself, yet you couldn’t change it, not for anyone, especially not when lives were at stake.

Keep reading