light wells

anonymous asked:

Hope and Lightning, “Please don’t make me socialize or/and “That was a perfect example of how not to do things.”? 😂

Usually, Hope relished in being woken up by the sweet voice of his wife, but after not being able to fall asleep until four that morning due to work, all he wanted was for the noise to go away so he could sleep.

Unfortunately for him, Lightning wasn’t about to let him get away with that.

“Hope, come on.” Lightning shook him around a bit. When he refused to respond, she tried to put her lips near his ear, but he just hunched up his shoulders so she couldn’t reach. “It’s past eight. We need to get Seven to school.”

“Can’t Serah take her?”


He groaned and rolled over, one arm flopped over his eyes. “Please don’t make me socialize. Especially not with other parents.”

“Too bad.” She kissed his forehead, and when he moved his arm, his lips. “You’ll just have to get used to it.”

He sighed heavily. “Okay, okay. Anything for you two.”

Truthfully, he didn’t want to miss his daughter’s very first day of kindergarten. He was just so darn tired and was already planning to catch up on some sleep when he got home.

At least Lightning had gotten him up for this. It was a once-in-a-lifetime event…seeing his only daughter going to a real, grown-up school…

“I-I’m proud of you, okay?” Hope said in a watery voice as he hugged Seven. Nope, nope, he was not going to cry. Oops, too late. Maybe it was the lack of sleep making him so emotional. “You’re gonna do well, right?”

Daddy,” Seven said, trying to squirm away. “You’re embarrassing me!”

“Oh, sorry.” He finally let go of his daughter and pat her head. “Make us proud, okay?”

“Okay!” She hugged her mother quickly before scampering off into the school, ignoring Hope’s red eyes and happy, proud tears.

Lightning smiled, watching Seven find a teacher as they went inside. She turned to Hope and raised an eyebrow. “That was a perfect example of how not to do things. I should’ve let you sleep.”

“And miss this? I don’t think so, Light.”

“You’re taking the rest of the day off, right?” At his nod, Lightning slipped her hand into his. “Don’t worry. I’ll wear you out so you can get back to sleep.”

Casual Affair

Just a little something I wrote for Shaw Appreciation Day. Sorry if it’s not great; it was done on a whim. 

Title from Casual Affair by Tonic. 


Cole brings her scotch and whiskey, extra soap bars, and two extra-large containers from the Chinese place down the street, his arms full to bursting when he walks through the safe house door. Shaw sits at the table, in jeans and a tank top, cleaning her guns, and if his eyes linger on the muscles outlined by the incandescent kitchen lighting… well. It was just because he was appreciating them and not pining. Definitely not the latter.

           “If you keep staring at me like that I’ll choke you with your orange chicken.”

           The Chinese gets set by her right shoulder, a peace offering. “Two of those are for you,” he says, shrugging off his jacket, “because you eat as much as a bull.” He collapses in the chair opposite Shaw with a sigh, his sore muscles sighing too, in appreciation. “You get any word yet about what time the flight is tomorrow?”

           “6 AM,” Shaw replies, putting her Glock back together after giving the pieces one last round with the polishing cloth. It shines like it’s new, glinting pleasantly. Maybe that’s part of Shaw’s appreciation for weapons, seeing how nice they look, but also about how good they feel. She treats weapons with the respect and care of an old friend, something fascinating. “Which means packing everything up tonight and rising at four.” (She was one of those people who liked to be so on time to things that they were actually early.)


           Shaw drinks the scotch straight from the bottle. She proffers it to him but he declines. He’s taken to not drinking often, only every once in a while. Bad experiences at MIT, including hearing about the death of a friend from alcohol poisoning just before a major exam. This, of course, he’d told Shaw, who’d absorbed the information and didn’t make comments about silliness. It’s one of the many things he likes about her: she doesn’t pry for information or tease and instead lets him tell her things when the time is right.

           “You gonna eat the rest of that?” Shaw jerks her chin towards his box, still with a little fried rice with soy sauce left in one corner, a few pieces of orange chicken in the other. He slides it over to her and the rest of the food is gone within a few large forkfuls. She cleans up the dinner mess while he packs away computer things and dirty laundry, weapons and cleaning kits. Shaw has even less belongings than he does and Cole wonders if it’s a result of her time in the Marines or if she was just raised to be a light traveller. He doesn’t touch her suitcase or laundry after moving them to Shaw’s side of the king bed—the side closest to the bathroom.

           When night has properly settled over the world and music plays from somewhere down the street, at one in the morning, they lie wide awake, each on their side of the bed but bare feet touching underneath the covers. Sometimes he thinks of the missions and everything that went right or wrong and how they could’ve done something differently to make the outcome favourable, or more so. Shaw knows this too. She’s the only one he trusts with that sort of stuff, anyway, always logical about the situations, never really losing her cool. Other times he thinks about the numbers, how Research knows about all of them, where Research gets the intel. Humans? Computers? Something else entirely?

           He wants to ask again but instead he switches topics. “Ever been to Germany, Shaw?”

           “Once or twice, back in the Marines days,” Shaw replies. He can’t see her much in the dark room aside from a faint outline of her head and shoulders, facing away from him. “Didn’t stay for very long, a handful of months at a time. Always on the move.” A pause. “I wouldn’t try to be so much of a tourist while there. Rumour is this one’s going to be a little more dangerous.”

           The mattress shifts and buttons are pressed, Shaw setting an alarm that will wake them up at 4 in time to get to the airport and fly back to Washington, D.C. to report the findings and the outcome in greater detail. Then it would be off to Germany for heaven knew how long, a few days, a month.

           “Sleep well, Shaw,” Cole murmurs, and is asleep before he hears Shaw’s reply.


“Isn’t this nice?”

           It’s mid-March and the plants and trees that had been in hiding during the winter are finally starting to bloom. It means pollen polluting the air like fumes, causing itchy eyes and running noses that seem impossible to stop, even with allergy medication. Shaw does admit, though, that the warm weather is a definite welcome change from the bitter cold of winter. The sun soaks into her black clothes, mixing with the warmth of her body and the warmth of Root’s hand tucked into the crook of her left elbow. The taller woman walks happily beside her, a stride and look Shaw hasn’t seen for months. When was the last time she’d cared so much about another person’s happiness?

           They’d met up for lunch at Katz’s Deli, Root picking apart her sandwich like a delicate science project, plucking the lettuce and pieces of raw tomato from between slices of bread and fresh pastrami. Somehow they got her order wrong half the time. They’d stayed there for an hour talking about the various goings-on in their more recent post-war lives and then dissolving into silence to take bites of the cheesecakes they’d ordered for dessert. Afterward Root suggested a walk in Central Park to burn off lunch even though her sandwich had only been half-eaten. For such a bigger woman height wise she really had the stomach the size of a bean.

           “John should be getting out of physical therapy in a few hours,” Root says when they’re planted on a secluded bench, half in the shade, half in the sun. She’s holding a small cup of coffee between her hands, somehow still cold in the lukewarm weather. “I was thinking we’d take him for dinner somewhere, since hospital food is rather bland.”

           Bland conjures memories of late night café runs, eating Subway sandwiches and drinking shitty coffee at three in the morning to keep herself awake long enough until the day shifters arrived to relieve the nightshift doctors nurses of their duties. Of MREs in desert fields where salt and pepper were fought over between the boys in her unit.

           “I could use a drink,” Shaw says after a while, standing up from the bench to stretch. “I know a place not too far away.”

           “Are you offering to take me to your place?” Root questions, smiling. She reaches for Shaw’s outstretched hand and, when they begin to walk, keeps it there, their fingers intertwined, Root’s thumb rubbing Shaw’s. Several times Root glances down at their joined hands, wondering how it’s come to this point when before if their hands touched they would flinch away as if burned or Root would use it to her advantage to pin Shaw’s wrists above her head in order to kiss her. “I bought you a fresh bottle of scotch, by the way.”

           “Kind of you.” Shaw scratches her head, moves a strand of hair away from her left eye. Sometimes she can’t help but think of the night before the trip to Germany, five long years ago, when she drinks Jonnie Walker scotch. It was a brand Cole had turned her on to, whenever he chose to drink, a rich scotch that burned the throat pleasantly on the way down and created a pool of warmth in the belly. Somehow that companionship she had with him bled over into her relationship with Root. But, Shaw thinks, when Root’s head finds her shoulder, maybe friendship isn’t even the right word. Maybe it’s something a little more. And, she realises, her hand coming to rest on Root’s knee, that’s something she’s okay with.

anonymous asked:

to go in with this classpecting help, maybe the prince of light could see as well in the dark as in the light?

But what would princes in general have?


yoo! here’s the djwifi piece i did for @a-little-light-zine ~ if you would like to see all the pieces in this zine, feel free to donate and pick one up while it’s still available~ 

also wanna say a huge thanks @littleblackchat for your ridiculous amount of hard work in making this zine come together ;0; it was crazy watching you work and i have a lot of respect for you //grovels profusely// ur a beast gurl

A Little Light is a digital Miraculous Ladybug charity zine to benefit the victims of Hurricane Matthew. The zine includes art, fanfics, and cosplay. Zine orders will be open until Feb. 1.

Orders  –  Participants  –  Previews  –  Info

Guess who got a tablet for christmas? *waggles eyebrows* I still have a long way to go before I can be considered proficient at using it, but I’ll get there. I’m looking forward to making the most of the ‘dead’ time during my commutes to and from the office!


and everytime he smiles, the whole room turned to see what shone 💗✨

Friendly reminder

to do things for yourself. Read a book. Watch a movie. Put on some incense and turn on your salt lamp and put on some relaxation music. Do a face mask. Do a foot bath. Have a bath. Do your nails. Do what you love. Go for a walk. Go hiking. Go see your friend. Pamper yourself, not only physically but mentally. Relax.

oh boy i can finally post the illustration i did for menons-la-danse

Merry Christmas!! <3