left end

anonymous asked:

May I ask you for a one shot about what Ignis or Nyx would say or do to make their s/o be less hard on themselves? Their s/o would think they didn't deserve their bf, always thought that they weren't good enough for anyone, not putting enough effort into their jobs and didn't think people truly liked them. (I just have to say that you write bloody amazingly <3)

I decided to just write Nyx for this one, because I am in desperate need of more Nyx content. Don’t kill me for where I left the ending! That’s all I’m gonna say. Read on!

You watched him as he laid next to you on the bed, summoning fire idly in his palm. He would call it forth and then make it vanish, and you could feel the heat warming your skin. You wondered what it felt like to caress the flames.

“Nyx?”

The fire died, and he turned to look at you. “Yeah?”

You stared at him for a second, soaking in all of his features. The blue of his eyes, the angle of his jaw, the light fuzz that ran along the lower half of his face. You looked away.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

He cocked an eyebrow, rolling over to his side and leaning up on his elbow to look at you. “Do what?”

You sighed and made a sweeping gesture. “All of it. You’re part of the Kingsglaive, you’re a hero, you save lives every day. You’re…you’re just so loyal and kind hearted and perfect.” You sank a little further into the bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin. “I don’t know what you see in someone like me.”

Nyx sat up and tugged the sheets down so that you couldn’t hide.

“Don’t say that.”

You turned away from him. “It’s true.”

Nyx brought his hand to your face and turned you so that you met his eyes. “What’s got you thinking like this?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath started to hitch. You couldn’t help it.

“I just…you’re just so perfect. You’re a hero, Nyx. And I just…I’m no one. Half the time, I don’t even know if the people around me even like me or are just using me because I don’t know how to say no.”

Nyx was quiet for a moment. His eyes were so clear, so honest in their truth. “I like you.”

You blinked back tears. “Why?”

Nyx smiled at you, tracing your jawline with his calloused fingers. “Remember that time we went to go get ice cream at that place close to the palace, and you saw those two kids in the shop who couldn’t afford to pay?”

You furrowed your brow. “Yeah…?”

“You bought them each so much ice cream that I thought they were going to turn into sugar cones and roll away. And then you invited them to hang out with us and bought them balloon animals in the park.”

You shook your head. “Anyone would have done that for those kids. They looked so sad.”

Nyx shook his head. “No, not everyone would have. But you did. You have a beautiful heart and you care so much about the people around you. Hell, you care about people who don’t deserve it. That’s how someone like you got stuck with someone like me.”

You frowned. “Nyx—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck as he pulled you to him. His lips were always so soft, and you let out a quiet moan as his tongue slid against yours. He finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and panting.

“I love you,” he said, looking you right in the eye. “I don’t want perfection. I don’t want the pomp and frills. I just want you. I’ve always wanted you. Don’t ever for a second forget that.”

You gave a meek nod, and he kissed you again. This time though, he rolled so that he was on top of you, and you gasped against his lips as you felt his erection poking the base of your stomach.

“Now, why don’t you let me ease those worries away, babe?” he grinned wolfishly, nipping at your neck before running his tongue along where his teeth bit into you. “I’ll make you forget everything except my name.”

You know what was so weird about the 2009 season? How Will Forte up and left at the end of the season.  It was never really talked about him leaving in the months leading up the finale, and he got no send off either. I did hear that he did regret that decision.  I felt he still had another year or two left in him, but I do know that his sister recently had kids and he wanted to be near them on the west coast too.  I can see how difficult it would be for him around that time.  But with that said, I’m sure one day that both him and Jason Sudeikis will come back and host.  Speaking of that, I was off this year. Last year I made a bold prediction that Jason would host this season and I was wrong. 

So I’ll make another bold prediction yet again.  Either Will Forte or Jason Sudeikis will host SNL sometime during Season 43.

and girls were so pretty. there was the effortless girls who had the wide eyes, the freckles, the hair pulled back. who didn’t wear makeup and always wore a smile, who knew you needed help before you asked it; the sunshine and picnic girls, who you felt carried spring with them. and the mountaintop girls, strong bodies and fierce in their bones, drinking green tea and teaching you yoga, who watched you and made sure you ate well, who knew what it was to fight for a body that listened. and the soft heather girls who knew nature and spoke gently and would show you how to hear the light hitting a lake, who would listen no matter how long the story was and somehow know what to say. and the girls who were red moons, a dangerous flash of teeth and darkness, an excited wildness that came in black leather and spoke of nights you ache when you remember, who would look at you and pin you to a board for a moment, so that for once you felt important. and the summertime girls, wide smiles and makeup that never smudged, who could make you feel as if you lived inside a photograph, who brought the feeling of the fourth of july to every party, who convinced you to come to the party. and of course the rain girls, who didn’t need an explanation, but simply were, in a way that when you made eye contact with them you knew somehow about sorrow and also about the safety of staying home. 

and girls. girls in their sweatpants in the aisle of a supermarket looking lost. girls staring down their teacher, demanding the grade they deserve. girls with their hands on the wheel, with their hands passing lotion to another, with their hands in their hair. girls upside down on the couch and spine straight in business meetings and body curled around a book. girls who were upended libraries, who were railroads, who were a choir’s last note, who were carols, who were snow, who were a racing track, who glowed or who gave warmth or else sewed cold, who bit hard, who laughed loud, who fell asleep on trains, who rode bikes in rain.

and then there was you.

8

“It was always a circle, from our hero’s family home to an underworld to the rallying of the tropes, and Gareth always wanted to get Jyn back home again; it starts with the home and end with (a metaphorical) home.”  - The Art of Rogue One, Josh Kushins

2

You think so much of what you and I can accomplish together. You and her.

Garden Girl’s gone now.

I spent the day helping her pack, only for her to lose her keys moments before she had to leave. They were locked inside her car and it took forever to get through to AAA. I felt a strange surge of guilt - the kind you get when something happens that isn’t your fault, but you still feel a little responsible because on some level you wanted it to happen. I knew I hadn’t touched them, but some small part of me doubted… a wickeder, crueler version of myself might have hidden them just to snatch a few more hours of her time. This was a cloying, yellowish thought that intensified as time dragged on. I had the absurd fear that if I reached into my pocket, I would find them, under the Altoids and the band-aides and the binoculars.

That wasn’t the case. She found them eventually, under a pile of dresses in the back seat. We both breathed a sigh of relief, but my heart fell. She was more than ready to go.

She hugged me. “You’d better come visit me,” she said.

“Can I tell you something before you go? I meant to tell you all summer but it never never seemed like the right moment.”

“No,” she said, immediately.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” I said. “I promise. It’d be easier to show you. Here.”

“Your wallet?” she looked at me quizzically.

“Yeah, um. Look inside.”

“Your ID? What am I supposed… oh. OH. Oh my god, what the fuck, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It never felt like the right time,” I said. “And I’ve told you now, so. Better late than never.”

We laughed. She swore at me in exasperation. She hugged me again, promised to keep calling me by the name she knows me by, and said her final goodbye. I watched her tail lights disappear in the thickening rain, and grinned.

3

none of their outfits rly scream ‘wedding,’ but I saw ‘Hanzo in a dress’ and just……

Are you going to age with grace?
Are you going to leave a path to trace?

But oblivion is calling out your name,
You always take it further than I ever can.

When oh oblivion is calling out your name,
You always take it further than I ever can.

Oblivion, Bastille