look at his 'who are you' face

Little something I never noticed before about the prophecy.

We know it was foretold that the chosen king would arise and fend off the forces of darkness, but I never realised just how accurate the painting of the prophecy would turn out to be.

That’s the chocobros. The king, Noct, in the middle; the blond, Prompto, to his left; to his right there’s a bearded man, leg braced powerfully in front of him, clearly Gladiolus.

And look who Gladiolus is supporting, arm slung around his shoulder. Ignis, wouldn’t you think?

Look at his face.

Looks a lot like a bandage covering his eye, right?

Ignis’s injury was literally foretold by the prophecy.

brb, crying.


Kings Masterlist

Kings Part Eleven:

Klaus looked peaceful as he slept. It was an odd thing, seeing the hybrid who had hours before been furious and insecure. “Are you going to stare at me all morning?” He asked without opening his eyes.

“Yes, you’re very handsome.” You hummed sleepily as your stretched.

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Gif source:  Lancelot  |  Tristan

Imagine Lancelot flirting with you while your lover, Tristan, is watching.

——— Request for lycanqueen ———

Lancelot was hitting you with the lean. You’d witnessed that lean and the effect his charm had on plenty a past woman, but you were nonplussed with his efforts, despite how amusing you internally found them. Particularly because you already had found a lover in Tristan. That lover who was currently looking at the interaction between you an Lancelot with an unreadable face, though you could tell his ear was strained to hear the flirting Lancelot was attempting to throw your way.

“You have quite the way with words, Lancelot,” you chuckle, only entertaining him for the sake of your own curiosity as to whether you could get a reaction from Tristan or not. You suspected Lancelot was in it for the same reasons, as he’d never flirted with you until now and knew very well that you and Tristan were lovers.

“I have a way with a lot of things,” Lancelot replies, sending you a flirty look that it would take every effort not to blush and giggle at had you not been around the man for as long as you had and known him just as long.

You shoot back jokingly, “Everything except for me, it would seem!” Glancing past Lancelot, you catch the amused smirk on Tristan’s face as he looks back to the satchel saddled on his horse, adjusting it.

He had no reason to be worried.


You hated the fact that Mikaelsons always wanted to keep you safe, you never knew what was going on ever, you were grateful for the fact that trouble never found you but it was only a matter of time before it did and you didn’t want to be clueless.

This time however they asked you to look after Hope while they go and take care of something, of course, they didn’t tell you what it was. “So Hope you wanna help me find out what they’re up to?” You asked looking at the baby who seemed pretty clueless and nodded “good.” You walked through the rooms of the Abattoir hoping to find something, Hope was balanced on your hip as you walked, you had face her so that she could see behind you, you told her that she had to warn you if there was someone behind you but she never did, instead Klaus managed to scare the crap out of you.

“What are you doing (Y/N)?” He asked smirking as his siblings seemed to come out of nowhere.

“You know give me a warning means let me know before they come in here.” You mumbled to the baby in your arms and she gave a small giggled and continued to make little noises.

“Why would you need a warning?” Klaus asked.

“Because you’re all scary.” You mumbled.

“You wouldn’t be looking for secrets,” Elijah asked and you shrugged.

“Not secrets.” You answered.

“What are you looking for?” Rebekah asked.

“Nothing.” You answered passing Hope back to Klaus. “If you don’t mind.” You left after that and none of them tried to stop you because they all knew what you were looking for and you were so close to finding it.

Requests and general question!

The Suspense is Killing Me

Starring: Jimin x You (ft. Taehyung)

Rated: G for gently crack and a little sads sometimes

Word Count: 8.1K

Summary: park jimin is a trusted superhero who constantly saves the day, but can he save them from you, his newest rival and beloved wife

Cameras are flashing left and right, blinding him. There are way too many microphones in front of his face, but he smiles anyways, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and brushes a hand through his jet black hair. They don’t need to know he wears the sunglasses so he doesn’t look like he’s squinting in the PR photos.

“Park Jimin, over here!” 

“Mr. Park! What are your opinions on the city’s allocation of funds?”

“Mr. Park, what’s your comment?”

Jimin sighs internally and focuses his attention to the left, pointing to the nearest person. “You there, in the green jacket.” Probably an easy question, he thinks to himself.

“Mr. Park, what do you have to say about the newest rival that has resumed the spot of V? Does this mysterious villain pose a greater threat?”

Jimin gulped, cursing himself for his bad luck. “It was unexpected, but that’s not to say I’m unprepared for these recent turn of events,” he responded, clearing his throat. “I assure the public that their safety is still intact and that the danger is not as bad as V, who is locked up in the highest security prison institution.” 

The crowd murmurs louder before resuming in calling his name. Jimin has half his mind to leave the press conference until a lone voice shouts from the crowd, silencing them. “Then why haven’t you killed or caught the villain if they’re so easy? Why haven’t you caught the Suspense?” 

Jimin drops his head and takes a deep breath. He knows that he should probably say that he’s investigating the villain’s true intentions and hidden secrets or some other bullshit excuse, but the truth slips out of his mouth before he can process what he’s said, and instantly, he feels regret. The crowd bursts into a loud commotion, and Jimin is quickly escorted out of the place, halting any further questions.

“Because she’s my wife.”

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when you can't rise (i'll crawl with you on hands and knees)

Fandom: Moana
Word Count: 1,557
Warnings: Mentions of blood and violence
( @paperjam-bipper both inspired and screamed at this one)

“Ugh! Wayfinding in the fog. Great! I was definitely looking forward to this. Whee.”
Moana wasn’t sure if the dampness or Maui’s frustrated grumbling woke her, but she sat up and realized she couldn’t see anything but the mast and Maui’s tattooed back. His hair was up in a bun, pulled out of his face as he squinted through the mist.

“Morning, Curly. Think you can stay away from home for another few hours? It’s not safe to sail in this weather.” Maui was already putting the sail down, his forehead creased worriedly.

“You’re being cautious? Who are you, and what have you done with Maui?” Moana pulled the oar from the water and poked him with it, grinning.

Maui didn’t even look at her. “There’s a difference between being reckless and being an idiot,” he snapped. “And sailing in awful weather is a case of the latter.”
Moana tucked herself under his arm and leaned into his side, resting a hand on the small of his back. She felt the tension go out of him, and he sighed, warrior face shifting into a small, concerned frown.

“You okay, Maui?”

He shifted, like he wasn’t sure whether to melt into her arms or pull away. “I’m just hoping this is natural. There have been a lot of monsters near the islands recently.”

Moana started to reply, but the ocean bubbled around them, and she never got the chance. She hefted her oar instead, lifting it to fight off whatever was approaching. Maui’s arm tightened around her, the knuckles of his other hand going white on the handle of his hook. He was protecting her, but not restricting her movements. It was a practiced motion, a brotherly, even fatherly instinct that ached with memories.

Maui shouted, “down!” and they slammed to the deck, just before the ocean exploded, some multi-limbed thing that arced over their heads and crashed down.

Chaos reigned. Something slammed her into the floor of the canoe, and something else came down on top of it. Maui shrieked a war cry, blue light flashed, and she was free, gripping her oar and covered in blackish monster blood.

As soon as she was on her feet, a barbed tentacle lurched out of the shadows, and Moana slammed her oar into it. From beneath them came a snarl of displeasure, and the boat rocked. Maui leapt to her side and cut the tentacle off, kicking it into the ocean. The boat rocked again, harder, and the monster shrieked.

They stood back to back in the center of the boat, silently and efficiently keeping the tentacles at bay. If Moana had been allowed time to think, she would have marveled at the way they worked together, without a word or a moment of confusion.

Then again, if she had been thinking, she would have noticed how Maui was devoting more energy to making sure she was safe than protecting himself.
The fog thinned slightly, giving them a glimpse of the thing they were fighting, and before Moana could stop him, Maui howled a warcry and leapt into the mist.

All she could do was shout his name, stare after him, and listen.

The sound of his transformation. A splash. The creature’s howl. Another transformation, another monstrous screech. A muffled curse, another splash. The sharp hum of rapid transformations.

A surprised shout. A wet, sickening, awful sound.

A scream of pain and fear and rage that could belong to no one but Maui.

Without hesitating, Moana dove, but ocean surged up and caught her, pushing her back onto the boat, holding her there.

“No!” she shrieked, fighting it with. “No, let me help him, let me go!”

She kicked and struggled, screaming Maui’s name, until the ocean’s head made a sharp gesture of “i’ll go” and disappeared into the mist.

Helpless, pinned to the boat, Moana could only wait, listening to the waves and the tiny cries of pain that seemed to echo around her.

A shape moved in the mist, and the ocean dragged Maui to the boat, letting Moana go so she could run to his side.
He was still clutching his hook, that was the first thing that registered.

The second thing wasn’t even the blood. It was the asymmetry.

The third thing was the fact that he was calling her name, whimpering and slamming his head back against the boards, teeth gritted in agony.

It wasn’t until Moana was on her knees, one hand on his arm to soothe him, pulling bandages from the storage compartment, that she realized Maui’s leg ended just below his knee, in a ragged stump.

It took until she’d already tied a tourniquet and bandaged up what she could, until the bleeding had stopped (she asked, later, much later, and quick healing was one of the gifts of being a demigod) and the mist was starting to clear for her to realize she was shaking.

A hand grabbed weakly at her wrist, and Maui coughed her name. He dragged himself upright, wrapping his arms around her.

Together, in the silence that only broken by their ragged breathing and the quiet sounds of the ocean, they held on to each other and shook.

The sun had risen by the time Moana lifted her head from Maui’s shoulder, rubbing at her eyes. The demigod was asleep, clutching her and his hook like lifelines, curled in on himself, the stump of his leg tucked under him. Quietly, she shifted out of his grip, unwinding the bandages. All that was left was an ugly scar.

Moana turned the boat towards home.

Her parents helped carry Maui from the boat and to her fale. She stayed with him until she was sure he was comfortable, arranging and rearranging the blanket, leaning his hook against the wall in a dozen different positions to make sure it wouldn’t fall, hesitating by his side to see if he would wake up.

He didn’t, and she walked back into the sunlight. Before either of her parents could speak, she explained, in a rush of words, answering her father’s questions in clipped sentences, leaning into the hand her mother rested on her arm, holding herself stiffly so she wouldn’t tremble at her own awful words.

She meant to go back to Maui’s side, but someone called her over, and from there she ended up talking to a dozen different people and walking the length of the island, and by the time she made it back to her fale, it was too late.

Maui was awake, sitting up, the blankets thrown to the side, staring at the stump of his leg. His hair, matted with blood and seawater, hid his expression, but not the way his hands and shoulders were shaking.

“Maui?” Moana ventured carefully, crouching beside him.

“I’m ruined.” Maui said, and his voice was broken, shattered, twisted and heavy and honest, defeated.

“No.” Moana said, even before he finished speaking, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. “No, you’re not ruined. You-”

He cut her off, shrugging away her hand and glaring from behind the curtain of tangled hair. “This isn’t like my hook, Moana. This isn’t something that I can function without. This is part of me. This is all of me. Agility, strength, speed, gone!I’m nothing, now!”

Just when she needed her words the most, they failed her.

Maui slumped down and pulled the blanket over himself. “Leave me alone, Moana.”

Moana stood and left the fale, but she didn’t stay away. She husked a coconut and emptied the water into a bowl, found a comb among her mother’s things, picked a few flowers from the patch near the trees.

When she knelt back down, Maui grumbled at her to leave, but she ignored him. Gently, fondly, she washed the blood and salt from his hair, combing it out carefully. She braided the flowers into the lock of hair that always fell from behind his ear, and sat back on her heels, content with her work.
She took Maui’s hand and guided it to the side of his head. “Good?”

Maui made a raw sound in his throat, and started to shake, every breath a quiet, keening sob that curled him in on himself, a cry of helpless, overwhelmed emotion.

Moana rubbed his back gently, her voice strong and insistent. “Listen. You’re not ruined. This isn’t the end. Every challenge you’ve faced, you’ve worked through. This is no different.”

The shaking lessened.

“Crippled doesn’t mean broken. It just means changed. Something you have to adapt to. You’re Maui, Demigod of the Wind and Sea, Hero to All. Nothing has stopped you before. There’s no reason this should be it. You’re greater than your limits, Maui, so much greater. And nothing can ruin that.”

A long, deafening silence. Maui slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

“Help me stand?” he asked, and Moana got to her feet, slowly helping Maui lift himself on one leg. He closed his eyes, leaned on her, shifted his balance, and lifted his arm from around her.

She grabbed his hook from where it leaned against the wall and handed it to him. He opened his eyes, shifted again, leaned on the hook, looked at Moana, standing beside him with her hand on his arm, watching him in silent, familial adoration, and smiled.

king-of-the-outpost  asked:

AU where Freddy and Larry are both prisioner

Reservoir Dogs prisoner AU, Creamsicle:

- Freddy is that kid who Larry takes under his wing and looks after him. He doesn’t expect the kid to start making this face at him: 😍
- Freddy was involved in some dumbass stunt that got out of hand. He probably was the only one to get arrested, because, you know, Freddy. Bless. Criminal!Freddy is just as bad at adulting as cop!Freddy.
- Larry initially assumes that Freddy making a pass at him is to cement the whole ‘looking after your pasty white ass’ deal, and tells Freddy that’s not how things work in his cell block, “I just like you, Freddo, there’s no quid pro quo here.” (Except Larry probably doesn’t say qpq, but I can’t think of a Larry-type way to write it right now.) He does not expect Freddy to grab him and kiss him hard and then point out that “I really, really like you, man.”
- Larry is permanently bemused by this, and pretty much every step forwards in their relationship comes from Freddy, because Larry can’t figure out why this cute, adorable little shit wants to spend time with him.
- Freddy gets out early because of the nature of the crime and for good behaviour. He visits Larry weekly and spends his free time trying to figure out how to bust Larry out of jail.
- Larry really, really doesn’t want Freddy to get in trouble trying to bust him out, and eventually, out of desperation, he puts some feelers out and gets some of his contacts to help bust him out so at least Freddy won’t get in trouble if it all goes wrong.
- He turns up at Freddy’s apartment in his prison jumpsuit, and then has to restrain Freddy from dragging him to bed, because hello, he’s just busted out of jail, you silly dork.
- They retrieve money and valuables from some of the stashes Larry can access on the way to the border, steal ugly Hawaiian shirts, flee to Mexico, and live happily ever after on a beach in Baja. The end!
(Apparently I’m feeling fluffy today. You’re welcome!)


Send me an AU and I’ll give you 5+ headcanons!

scytherusedfly  asked:

"Hello there! Mind if you tell me where I stumbled into? I still haven't got this hopping down." He said, peeking from a corner. "I'll be here only for a little while, hope that's no biggie."

Morty turns, looking up at you, blood spattered on his face, gloves covered in who knows that. “OH. Stay if you like. Heh heh heh.”

  • Chat Noir: Knock knock
  • Marinette: Chat, what are you doing outside my room this time of night?
  • Chat Noir: *makes extended eye contact and leaves a banana on her windowsill, then flees into the night*
  • Marinette, very confused and concerned: What the fuck.
  • Chat Noir, the very next night: Knock knock
  • Marinette: Chat, you're back! What was up with the banana last night??
  • Chat Noir: *says nothing, pulls another banana out of a pocket and leaves it on her windowsill, then flees into the night*
  • Marinette, whisper yelling: Chat, what the fuck? I don't need this much potassium??
  • Chat Noir, the next night: Knock knock
  • Marinette: *staring him down, arms crossed*
  • Chat Noir: *slowly pulls a banana out of a pocket*
  • Marinette: Don't. You. Dare.
  • Chat Noir, dares: *places the third banana onto her windowsill, then flees into the night*
  • Marinette, throwing the banana after him: I swear to god if this is some kind of weird courting ritual!!
  • Chat Noir, the fourth night: Knock knock
  • Marinette: What.
  • Chat Noir: *smiles and holds out an orange for her*
  • Marinette: *looking at him suspiciously but takes the orange*
  • Marinette: Why an orange tonight?
  • Chat Noir: Orange you glad it isn't a banana?
  • Marinette: *punts the orange so hard into his face that he falls off the balcony*

I honestly don’t get the appeal of soda in general. I’ve never been able to enjoy it - the carbonation feels like little awful little knives stabbing my mouth and throat and sinuses. The only way I can drink soda at all is if it’s become flat. Otherwise, it’s just painful!  

Grasping the Obvious

Bucky Barnes was in love, and it seems that everyone figured it out but you. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Fluff, tiny segment of angst. 
Author’s Note: Don’t you love fluff? I do. After writing angst for three days straight I could use a little fluff. Enjoy! This is 3000 words long! 

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It’s a [Tinder] Date! (Part 3/3)

Summary: Thinking he needs to find a date, Natasha signs Steve up to Tinder. In Queens, Peter Parker does the same to you. It’s a match!

Word Count: 3,405

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Almost a month later, but this fic is officially done :D I hope you all enjoy this fluffiness. 

Originally posted by mackievanstan

Work managed to distract you enough to not keep looking at the clock every five minutes. Despite part of your brain telling you that there was no way you had a date with Captain America, there was another part that couldn’t help but to hope this was true. And so, you found yourself daydreaming of showing up to the restaurant and seeing him there. What would you even say to him? What kind of greeting would you use? Would you address him as Captain, or maybe Mr. Rogers, or just Steve?

By the time you got home, you had a few outfit options in mind and made a beeline to the bathroom, taking a shower before you got started on getting ready.

Peter came around as you were choosing between four different outfits you had draped on your bed. He helped you picked the one that was form-fitting, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

“We gotta tease him,” he said.

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