march forwarde

November 18th: Lauren Jauregui came out as Bisexual

December 18th: Their last performance with Camila

January 18th: Their first perfomance without Camila

February 18th: Ashlee Juno is no longer a part of 5H team

and

Fifth Harmony’s first concert as a quartet

Me, waiting for March 18th and looking forward on what’s going to happen:

Angels walk among us. With crooked halos and shattered wings, they walk among us and try to remember what it felt like to be holy. Stretching out their arms and reminding themselves of what it felt like to soar.


Gods walk among us. Trapped inside too small bodies with nothing but the memories of when they were everything, and dream of the worlds and empires they helped forge. Their hands had once built galaxies, but now seemed so small.


Aliens walk among us. From far away worlds and twinkling stars, they carry on and wonder how they had gotten so far from home. One day they know they’ll traverse this galaxy once again, but until then they must make do with Earth.


Fae walk among us. Who try to remember their people, their customs, their dances, in a world that is convinced that they are children’s tales, and no more. Desperately trying to become themselves again, wondering if it was all simply a prank gone wrong, or something worse.


Forests walk among us. Those who remember their trees, their plants, the animals they kept safe under their canopy. Now they can only hope their small friends stay safe, until they can take care of them all again.


Animals walk among us. Wondering why they were stuck on two legs with none of their fur or feathers, scales or shells. Questioning why their voices suddenly are so wrong, so different from the cries they used to make. Surrounding themselves with whatever they can that reminds them of their home.


Ghosts walk among us. Clothed in flowing white and shadowy blues, wandering through areas that used to be solely theirs. They can no longer phase or float, but they make do. They have to.


Dragons walk among us. On feet without the claws they remember, and with heads held high despite the missing horns and fangs. They clamber forwards, rebuilding their hoard with every step of the way.


Dolls walk among us. Those with faded felt and chipped ceramics alike wondering why they were suddenly flesh. Looking over themselves and realizing their bodies were suddenly softer then they ever were, more sturdy then they ever were.


Galaxies walk among us. Made of star stuff and moonshine, infinitely growing forces trapped in too small bodies. Remembering what it felt like to span light years and wondering who had managed to trap supernovas into flesh and blood.


Monsters walk among us. In every shape and size; they walk; slither; crawl; and remember the days they were feared, and wonder if they really want that back. If they would want it back after finally being treated as a living creature with as much right to exist as anyone else.


Betrayers walk among us. With guilt-ridden hearts and regretful eyes. Who reassure themselves that it was the right thing to do, not quite sure if they believe themselves.


Saviors walk among us. With a shine in their eyes and smiles on their lips, reassuring all they come across that one day the sun will shine and all with be right once again.


Rebels walk among us. Causes long ago forgotten, but with fires still raging in their hearts. Challenging anything and everything. Unrest and revolutions follow them wherever they tread. Chaos and freedom, mixed together.


Survivors walk among us. Soldiers with nothing left to fear, who have instincts as their guide and luck on their side. Walking forward unafraid, because they’ve done this all before.


Immortals walk among us. Souls laden with sorrow, heartbreak slipping through their eyes. They know by now not to get close, but do so anyways because its the only thing that makes them feel anymore.


Soldiers walk among us. Hands itching for weapons they no longer have, tense with instincts they no longer need. Wondering why their body is so unmarred and unbroken. They had always done their best, but now they no longer knew if that was good enough. If it ever was good enough.


Children walk among us. Lost and afraid, they march forward, with the weights of a thousand impossibilities on their shoulders. These children are forgotten, and they would prefer to stay that way.


Cursed-folk walk among us. With cautious eyes and doubtful tones, who know that the world is against them now more than ever. Everything comes with a price, and they wonder if their price was truly worth it.


Mages walk among us. Hands of their magical tools of choice, ready to pull them out if necessary to defend or attack. Scared because this was the land their ancestors were killed in. Courageous because they continue forwards anyways.


Travelers walk among us. Those who took a wrong turn and found themselves in a world that isn’t theirs, hoping to one day find the way back. Strength rings through them, for they know they cannot- will not -stop until they reach their home.


Chosen Ones walk among us. Remembering what it felt like to be The One, The Savior, The Last Hope of their worlds- and wondering why that responsibility was ever thrust on them in the first place. Wondering why they had been abandoned back in their old world after fighting so hard for the one they had made their home.


Spirits walk among us. Spirits who see others like them in the corner of their eyes. Spirits who meet up in quiet secret places and remember, together, what it felt like to be themselves. Reassuring each other that one day they will all go Home.


Unicorns walk among us. Even with their horns no longer there, there is no doubt magic runs through them. They are blessed creatures, and they know it. Stars and sunlight glisten in their eyes, and every step plants flowers. 


Demons walk among us. Still feeling the darkness in their blood, and the calls of others like them. Hell fire and brimstone smells dance on the breeze, luring them away. Luring them back home.


Dire Wolves walk among us. Even without their pack, they are fierce. Every step a calculation, every move planned.The hunt is on, and it looks like you are the prey. Get ready to run.


Dinosaurs walk among us. Long gone though they are, the continue forward. With pasts surrounded by mystery and unknowing. They are a varied folk, from carnivores to herbivores and everything in between. Large and small alike they fight on.


Winged Ones walk among us. Backs aching from wings they don’t have- limbs they haven’t had in a long time. The sky calls to them, begging them to come home, but they cannot reply. Stuck on the ground, staring hopefully up at the sky- one day they might go home, but not yet, not today.


Glitches walk among us. Scratches on the disk of reality, blips in the world. Tilt your head, look at them from a wrong angle- they might just be lens flares, might just be tricks of the imagination. The world warps around a being that is not there, that shouldn’t be there.


Hellhounds walk among us. Hellfire sprouts from their paths, infernos blaze just under their skin. Embers burn their paws, soot stains their fur. Wildness stirs in their hearts, urges them forward. Feral creatures, born from fire and darkness.


Vampires walk among us. Fangs stained red with blood that is not theirs. Pale as untouched snow, with hearts as dark as the night they rule. Voids twist around them, cloaking them in their shadows. Look out for too sharp grins at midnight, watch your steps.


Elements walk among us. Raging winds, blazing flames, crushing earth, and surging waters rush together. Combining to make impossible possibilities, incredible worlds, exploding worlds. Elements that made up entire worlds now spinned into bones.


The Undead walk among us. Shuffling and stuttering, wondering if this makes them undead undead. Flesh now whole and bones unbroken, feeling their heartbeat course through their veins once again, feeling the air filling their lungs once again. 


Werefolk walk among us. Bodies no longer shifting as they once did, permanently stuck on their two legs, for better or for worse. From all walks of life, they shifted into anything and everything. They do what they can to remind themselves of what if had felt like to themselves again.


Starseeds walk among us. Those that have lived only a few lives and those that have lived hundreds walking together. Taking the same steps they’ve taken who knows how many times before. Memories trickle back to them, small ones and big ones alike replaying in their minds. Doing their best to remember their mission and goals.


Mermaids walk among us. Although, maybe walk would be the wrong word. Figuring out how to walk on separate limbs that used to be one. Feeling most at home when submerged in water, sometimes forgetting their new bodies need oxygen. Strong arms and new legs propelling them through water, making them relearn a skill that they’d known since birth.


Death Omens walk among us. Afraid if their mere presence curses everyone around them. Keeping to themselves, just in case. Wondering how much of their past life carries on to their new life. Afraid that their mere touch could end lives, wondering if its their fault every time catastrophe hits.


Psychopomps walk among us. Remembering their jobs, remembering their duty. Even when they hated it, they remember what that must do. Both an impartial guide and a guardian protector. It was not their job to judge, simply to provide a safe passage from here to whatever lies beyond. Smiling in the face of death, knowing that they are not here for them.


Shadows walk among us. Twisting and shifting, not solid forms but far from intangible. They are everywhere and nowhere all at once, watching on to every act, recording passively that actions of others, while also defending those in need, actively stepping out to protect. They are the night and the stars, and yet also the shifting woods and deadly blades that flash in the shade. They are, and they aren’t.


Prisoners walk among us. Remembering shackles and chains holding them back, holding them down. Forced in cages and cells, forced to repent. But now- now they are free. They are free to walk and speak and run. Every part of their soul sings. Shackles now rusted off, chains now broken- they have no intentions of ever putting them back on.



Robots walk among us. Rusty joints and electricity running through them. Mechanical men, made to work with no need for sustenance. Inorganic beings with artificial intelligence, making themselves better, making themselves evolve. Their jobs are not yet done.


Seers walk among us. They watch, wide eyed and humbled, at the creatures who walk around them. Wings and horns and twisted bits, wandering through crowded streets. Their oddities, invisible to most, show bright and clear to the perceptive eyes of those who watch.



(want me to add one? Leave a reply and I’ll add it to the original)

Crestholm Channels headcanon
  • Ignis thinks up a new recipe for a mushroom that only grows down there, but the boys remind him what kind of organic matter it feeds on and he rips that paper off his notebook
  • claustrophobic prompto gets anxious, he ends up holding someone’s hand until they’re outta there
  • their pocket lights run out of battery and they start stumbling around blindly until their eyes adjust to the darkness, when they leave they find they’ve acquired a fifth team member (daemon of you choice) lmao
  • Gladio touches a slimy thing and freaks out, turns out this big guy flailing around can nail a perfect falsetto
  • some part of the sewers have open utility holes where the group can catch glimpses of Insomnia above, they march forward with determination to someday make it to the grounds above
  • Prompto slips while climbing down a ladder and falls in one of the chocobro’s hands princess style
  • there’s a constant staccato of yelling whenever a bug touches Noctis or Prompto, Ignis only yelled once when a big wet rat fell off the ceiling pipes on his head
  • the boys come out smelly from the sewers and no hotel/caravan will let them spend the night, they end up bathing in a river

thefoxninja17  asked:

As a Christian, how have you responded to the people who try to disprove and denounce your faith with science and evolution?

Calmly.

I don’t agree with the belief that science and faith cannot coexist. Yes, many of the greatest minds in history never practiced religion, however, just as many of the greatest minds did. These minds did not believe their faith contradicted what they studied from the world around them, and these individuals have greatly impacted the way we study the world. Max Planck? Issac Newton? Lord Kelvin? The very men we name units of measurement after? They believed in God. In fact, many of them became stronger believers the MORE science marched forwards.

“In the last few years astronomy has come together so that we’re now able to tell a coherent story of how the universe began. This story does not contradict God, but instead enlarges [the idea of] God.”

Joel Primack, co-developer of the cold dark matter theory

However, I also believe that denying science is just as narrow-minded and arrogant as denouncing religion as intellectually stagnant. I believe that is completely disrespectful towards those individuals who have dedicated their lives towards the noble goal of understanding the world around us. Yes, some scientists are arrogant and dishonest, but every group has some of those kinds of people so let’s not paint in broad strokes. Scientists put a lot of work into what they do; show them some appreciation.

Show Her

A/N: So this is my first Marvel imagine and of course the first had to be Bucky bc who doesn’t love some Bucky. I’m going to warn you right now, it’s probably terrible so shoot me if I don’t do him justice. Okay :) (Credits to gif owners!)

All everybody had been saying for the past few months was ‘show her’ and now the words were repeating in his head among other things non-stop. He cared for her oh so much. Maybe she never noticed how he felt but she did always reciprocate the love he showed. When he couldn’t sleep, or when he just needed advice to ask a girl out that wasn’t her, maybe even when he was insecure and even asked her what to wear the next day because he didn’t know what color looked best on him.

Yep…she was there. For the stupid little things and all the way to cleaning him up when he got home from a mission. Bruised and battered, a split lip or a bloody nose. She’d even patched up a gash on his last living arm, the 'good one’ he called it. The one that made him stand out unlike the rest and the glob of metal for an arm on the opposing side of his body made it harder to go undercover with Steve. Y/N even helped scrape dirt out of the crevices in the monster of an apendage.

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for the @rebelcaptainprompts prompt “one bed” because obviously I’m going to write more bedsharing have you met me

The last time Jyn shared a room with someone, it wasn’t so much a room as it was a prison cell. A cold, shadowy prison cell with two metal slabs masquerading as beds on either wall and plenty of space between them.

This room is not like that. This room is bright and airy, white walls and soft blue curtains and a single, neatly-pressed bed.

And Cassian—standing beside her in the doorway, staring at the bed with something like horror—is not like her former cellmate. For a number of reasons. She won’t go into detail.

“Um,” Cassian says, swallowing. Jyn waits for that sentence to finish. It doesn’t.

She keeps waiting. She’s not going to break this silence.

“I, err—” Cassian tries again. “I guess I should have anticipated this.”

“Yeah,” says Jyn. She should have anticipated it, too. It’s probably not a normal thing for people to furnish their extra bedrooms with more than one bed, although Jyn can’t know for sure: it’s been a long time since she’s seen the inside of someone else’s house.

“I could ask her if she has more space,” Cassian says, tentative.

Jyn rolls her eyes. “No, you can’t.” They’re lucky enough this woman is friendly to the rebellion and willing to harbor them for the night. They can’t start getting pissy about the accommodations.

“Yeah,” Cassian agrees. Jyn’s not looking at him—it’s taking some effort—but she can see his shoulders slump out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry,” he says, something of a mumble. “I can sleep on the floor.”

Jyn bristles on instinct. She’s not sure why, exactly, but the suggestion angers her: she’s a soldier same as him, and what, he thinks her too delicate to handle sleeping in the same bed as a man? That her virtue will be somehow compromised?

“No,” Jyn snaps.

Cassian twitches, turns to her. “No?”

She marches forward, pulls out the sheet from where it’s tucked into the mattress, and lifts herself onto the bed, curling onto her side beneath the covers.

“Get in the damn bed, Cassian.”

For a moment, nothing. Then she hears his feet along the floor. The light flicks off, and she feels the mattress dip as he lays down beside her.

Heat flutters down her spine, sudden and without reasonable cause. She’s faced away from him, squeezed as close to the edge of the mattress as she can make it without falling off, but she can still hear his every breath—loud and strangely uneven. He shifts, and leg brushes against hers.

Her heart thuds so forcefully against her ribcage, she swears he probably heard it.

“Go to sleep,” she barks, in a (largely unsuccessful) attempt to get her breathing back under control.

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder.”

“Stop talking, then.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Jyn tries, too. But the awareness of Cassian’s body at her back is ever-present, the urge to roll over into that warmth both traitorous and distracting. This was, it turns out, a very bad idea.

In the morning, she tells him that it’s his fault she slept so poorly: he snores.

(He doesn’t.)

In the morning, he shrugs it off, tells her that he slept perfectly well.

(The dark circles under his eyes suggest otherwise.)

Where She Went

[PART TWO]

pairing: daveed diggs x reader

summary: daveed and reader were high school sweethearts who had a bad breakup before they both left oakland. four years have passed and fate (and a well-timed cello concert) bring them face-to-face.

warnings: swearing. that’s really it.

word count: 2,504

a/n: day three of @hamwriters write-a-thon is lit day :-) based on the novel “where she went” by gayle forman which is actually a sequel to “if i stay” but i do what i want. this is in Daveed’s POV because the original book is in the guy’s POV, and i’m planning on posting a second part on POV day so be on the lookout for that. okay love u happy reading


“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying with us today and enjoy your time in the Big Apple.”

Daveed unclips his seatbelt as the other passengers begin to file off the plane, standing to grab his carry-on from the overhead compartment. It’s the only bag he packed, because he’s only in the city for 24 hours. Tour starts in two days, and his manager had all but physically forced him onto the plane to NYC.

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7

TMFF has ended and I’m just here trying to put a band-aid over my feelings.

ಥ_ಥ

Based on fic Time Marches Forward (Finally) by @tsukithewolf 

The Sound of Her Face

She was my first love and my last. My first kiss and my last.

Our first kiss wasn’t even a kiss. It was just her blowing pot smoke towards my face as we sat in her parents’ dim basement, autumn light slanting through the tiny window, pillars of pot smoke dancing in the beams. We’d skipped school to get high, unable to stomach one more day of Mr. Carruthers’ horrid take on world history (“Those who aren’t learning from stuff in the past will have to do history again”). The kiss came soon after.

Love followed, promises of undying, eternal love. One thing was different – our thing. We always kissed before and after we went anywhere, even short, minutes-long trips; the store, the gym, work. A kiss before leaving, a kiss upon return.

“Life is uncertain,” she’d always say. “I never know when I’ll be able to kiss you again.”

When the contagion came, what the media were calling The Virulence, we stuck it out, this time in my basement, minus the pot. We had one window that we could see the outside world through, one small window that let in a little natural sunlight. Walled off from the world, armed with only each other, protein bars and the water in the toilet tank, we waited for the global panic to subside.

It didn’t.

We each made trips out for provisions and to look for something to protect our little basement fortification. She made trips by day, when the virulent were less active, mine usually at dusk. We came back with armfuls of what we could carry: cans of beans, bottled water, once an AR-15, picked from the car of some unfortunate who’d been eaten. The virulent were fast, insatiable, unkillable. Even decapitation didn’t render them harmless; they’d keep marching forward, arms swinging in wide arcs while the head still gnashed and snapped its teeth on the ground. Stupid, lying zombie movies.

She was bitten on one of her sorties. We’d kissed before she went out. She came back for one more.

She leaned in towards me, skin already ashen, eyes dead, the tendons in her neck stretching and creaking as her jaw opened wide, wider, wide enough to black out the sun, the little window, and everything I could see.

SPOILERS- STAR WARS: THE LAST JEDI, TRAILER BREAKDOWN

We start with a pan up on Ahch-to, transitioning from a image of space as it turns into shot of a rock which rey slams her hand onto, the sound of her gasping suddenly is heard (reminiscent of the opening for the first TFA trailer with Finn gasping as he stands up on Jakku) , she looks wet it could either be that she has just come out of a vision and is sweating or she has had an encounter with the sea monster we heard rumoured a while back.

“Breath” we hear Luke say, training rey to control her new powers one would speculate, more images of Ahch-to it will be playing a big part in the film obviously 

“just breath” Luke says again, we can’t know for sure but this again could be rey about to face off against the rumoured sea monster or its just a dramatic shot

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Familiar


Pairing: Nalu

Rating: K+

Genre: Friendship and romance

Summary: The tiny stuffed toy was her treasure - a little demon that had helped her through good times and bad. And suddenly there he was, breathing, walking, talking, emoting. And asking for a kiss. 

Notes: This drabble poured out as soon as I laid eyes on <<this>> wonderful art by @liku-bears!

It was probably the only really meaningful gift from her father in recent times. It wasn’t much — just a tiny little demon plushie. It could have easily been lost in thousands of other dresses and jewellery that he had also sponsored for her.

Had it not been for the fact the toy was a small reminder of happier times. And of her parents’ love.

One of her fondest childhood memories were of when they would all cuddle together in bed while her mother told stories. In particular, one of a tiny demon that saved lost little kids, only to be misunderstood by the children’s parents when they saw him with them. Her father would supply the dialogues for the angry people, while her mother would do those for the little children and the demon.

Lucy felt for the demon, and protested, insisting that she would have done her best to protect it had she had the chance. Her mother had been so pleased with the suggestion, that she would weave a Lucy into the story to do just that - and she would get to do her own dialogues. And they would go on and on until Jude reminded them of it being past bedtime.

Storytime had been her favourite way to spend time with her family - it was the one time her father and mother could take a break from their royal duties and spend time with her.

Her mother’s sudden loss had been very hard on her and her father, and his subsequent attempts to cope had really dented their relationship. Lucy, now at sixteen years, still couldn’t remember the last time she and her father had really spoken.

The plushie, gifted to her on her tenth birthday, two years after losing her mother, was a small reminder that despite all the evidence that went against it, her father really did care.

She had taken extremely good care of the soft toy ever since. It had a special place beside her pillow at night-time and was the last thing she saw when she went to bed and the first when she woke up. She would talk to it every day — share tales of her day, people she met, things she learnt. She would laugh with it and cry holding it. It was her closest friend, and had been for years now.

Even if it never had it replied back.

Not till right now anyway.

Lucy, the ever graceful celestial princess of Magnolia, fell rather clumsily on her bum when it — he — suddenly spoke.

“Woah, there! You okay?” came the tiny voice again, as the now animated toy (person?) leaned over the bed to ensure she was okay.

“Y-y-you’re talking!”

“Hell yeah I am!” he grinned. “Finally.”

“B-b-but you’re a toy!”

“Oi, I’m a demon!“ His face tilted to one side. "And you’ve always told me you’re a polite person. Lies!”

Lucy blinked disbelievingly, as the little toy crossed his arms and huffed.

She crawled on her knees back to the edge of her bed to peek at the toy, see for herself if he really was…real.

And while the demon kept his back to her, pouting sulkily, she brought a finger to poke him in the side.

“Hey,” he warned.

Poke.

“Hey!” His back still faced her.

Poke.

“Would you— ” he got cut off as Lucy — in a bid to try and confirm once more that felt had indeed given way to flesh — unintentionally began tickling him.

“S-sorry,” she said, not really that sorry. His laughter was heart-warming.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay,” he said, once he’d caught his breath.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Lucy challenged.

He pouted again and Lucy couldn’t help but giggle.

“I didn’t intend to tickle you, if that helps,” she added.

“You’re mean, Luce,” he grumbled.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Luce?”

“Well yeah, that’s what I’ve always called you,” he said, rolling away to make room for Lucy to climb and sit on her bed.

“You were listening the whole time?” she asked in wonder.

“Yup,” he replied.

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Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans

Orga Itsuka marches forward with Mikazuki Augus while Hush Middy looks almost reluctant to trail along in this Newtype Romance SPRING 2017 (Amazon Japan | eBay) illustrated by key animator Toida Juri (戸井田珠里).

Tired of hiding

This one is for the lovely anon who sent me the prompt. I really really hope it lives up to your idea and how you imagined it. *crosses fingers* *worries*

(Note to everyone else reading this - the idea and most of the storyline isn’t mine)

Summary: Baz starts going to an LGBT+ club at Watford, Simon finds out and it changes the way he sees Baz

Warning: homophobia (well… kind of. It may all just be a big misunderstanding)

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karlabperez  asked:

i WAS wondering do you have good fics where stiles or Derek is a prince and they fall in love with each other but one of them is just a regular boy

Originally posted by uniqueandsoulful

This tumblr fic.

Deep Waters by disturbed_hound

(1/1 I 1,815 I Mature)

Stiles is born into the Royal Stilinski family, and you know how boring it can be following all the rules every day of your life. So he doesn’t. He sneaks off to the forest from time to time, the behavior beginning when he’s just a child. All he wants is a place to himself where his father isn’t constantly looking down on him. What he finds instead is a boy living in the woods, a boy who wants nothing to do with Stiles. Too bad he doesn’t know how to be told “no”.

Or – the one where Stiles is a prince and finds himself befriending a werewolf, against his family’s wishes.

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo by orphan_account

(1/1 I 2,349 I General)

“The Stilinskis are of royal blood, Lydia, and the Hales –”

“– are piss-poor peasants after having disgraced themselves in battle centuries ago?”

Derek looks away again. “Yes,” he says miserably. “I’ll never be good enough for him.” He feels more than hears Lydia sigh and step away.

“We’ll just have to make him forget about politics, then,” she says softly. “He won’t care what house you’re from the moment he sets eyes on you.”

“In these clothes?”

“Don’t be idiotic.” Lydia raises her wand and bites her lip contemplatively. “I’m your fairy godmother, Derek. I think I can work a little magic. But first – we’ll need a pumpkin and some mice.”

Unknown Kindness in a Cruel World by Dexterous_Sinistrous

(1/1 I 35,357 I Explicit)

The prince carefully observed Stiles. “Do you know who I am?”

Stiles knew he should have. “No,” he answered, knowing the pimp would be unhappy with that answer.

“Are you afraid of me?” The prince asked, his eyes never leaving Stiles.

Stiles’ heart was pounding in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He knew the pimp would want him to answer with a quip or flirtation. But Stiles didn’t want to lie—not to the prince. And he couldn’t tell why. “No,” he truthfully answered.

well it goes like this by maybehonestly

(9/9 I 41,112 I Mature)

Somehow Derek and Stiles have ended up close enough that Laura is able to stand between them and clap a hand each of their shoulders.

“Look happy, boys. Don’t you know you’re in love?” Laura teases.

Stiles rips himself away and is out of the room before Derek can even wrap his head around any of this.

Or: the one where Derek is a prince and Stiles is the one night stand who he has to pretend to date.

And We’ll Never Be Royals (Royals) by BonitaBreezy

(4/4 I 47,453 I Not Rated)

Stiles always figured he was a pretty normal seventeen year old boy. At least, he did until his estranged grandfather appeared from nowhere and informed him that he was, in fact, the only remaining heir to the throne of a tiny principality he couldn’t pick out on a map if his life depended on it.
Now, between trying to keep up with Cora, his best friend who always has a cause, and getting Lydia Martin to notice him, he also has to attend daily prince lessons with his overly critical grandfather while trying to cope with the reality that he never really knew his dead mother. If he can do all that, and maybe even figure out what exactly his relationship with Cora’s hot older brother is, he’ll be all set.

A Devotion by TroubleIWant

(9/9 I 77,076 I Mature)

There’s a boy exiting the doors as they approach. Where Derek is tan from hours outside, the boy is pale except for a few beauty marks on one cheek. He’s dressed in fine riding clothes, and flanked by a guard wearing the sign of the royal house. A noble, then. He’s younger than Derek, but, considering his higher station, a bow would be appropriate. Despite that, Derek can’t help looking curiously at the boy, who’s looking back at Derek with just as much interest. For a moment, their eyes meet - the boy’s are a deep amber in the sunlit courtyard, ringed by long, tawny lashes.

A gloved hand smacks the back of Derek’s head and he instinctively flinches away, hunching his shoulders. He loses track of the other boy as they pass one another, and as he turns to get another look, the knight grabs his shoulder and marches him forward into the stable.

“Keep your eyes to yourself,” the knight instructs. “And next time, show the proper respect to Crown Prince Stiles.”

Worlds Apart by siny

(16/16 I 92,506 I Explicit)

Derek Hale, Heir Prince of Betonia and Italy, meets Stiles Stilinski, college boy.

“ You would be a great Porn Star” … That’s what they tell Me. I giggle say “Aww Thanxxx naughty” and publicly brush it off. The words further echo in My mind porn star? … Hmm imagine that? …. Me? Porn? *giggle* no way… Right? …. Nah… I couldn’t cause the way the “social norms” are set up it’s only polite to hide your true self in spite of people hypocritically telling you to “Be yourself” all while simultaneously judging you “ Be your self” HA! What a laugh, people want different as long as its the same kind of different. People want things to move forward by marching in place… They throw away their cum filled napkin while looking at the images on the screen with disgust. Just like the next… Cause it’s polite to lie about who you really are… It’s polite to be alive but never truly live. Because how dare you realize there are other ways to living life other than the ways you have been taught to regurgitate? Now that’s just rude 😉 #LearnSomeManners #Hypocrites

Happy Birthday Yuri!!

I had written a long thing for Yuri last night but Tumblr kindly deleted it so… a shorter version :-)


Yuri stepped out of the car and stared at the ice rink in front of him. It had been a long time since he had been here, not really having much time to go with Nikolai, their two year old son, and his modelling career. Plus there was the fact that their seven year old daughter, Ekaterina but they called her Katya for short, was terrified of the ice after an incident when she was three.

She slipped and fell really hard that day, even though Yuri and Otabek had a tight grip on her hands. When she had tried getting up she somehow sliced her hand open and, well, that sort of thing sticks with you when you’re three.

But now the entire Altin family was in front of Yuri’s old home rink and he looked over at his husband, confused.

“Are we skating?” He asked, blonde eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

A small smile twitched on Otabek’s lips and he took hold of Katya’s hand as she hopped excitedly out of the car.

“You’ll see.” Was all the dark haired man said and marched forward with Katya in tow, both of her hands clenched around Otabek’s. There was a spring in her step and her long, curly waves of hair bounced with her.

“Beka.” Yuri whined and hoisted Nikolai on to his hip before rushing after him. The two year old was getting heavy, too heavy to pick up but Yuri would revel in the fact that his son was small for as long as he could.

“Yura.” Otabek teased and Yuri just narrowed green eyes at him, hip-checking him when he got close enough. Otabek let out a hearty laugh and opened the door to usher everybody inside.

“Daddy you have to wait out her with Nikolai!” Katya announced as she skipped towards the doors that led to the actual ice. Otabek followed. Yuri pouted.

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise!” She threw her hands up and then disappeared behind the doors.

“Otabek-” But Otabek just winked at him before following their daughter. Usually, Yuri wasn’t one to obey but his daughter’s wrath was a lot scarier than Yakov’s had ever been so he plopped down on one of the benches with Nikolai in his lap. 

“At least you’re still nice to me.” He said and tickled Nikolai’s tummy.

Nikolai laughed, one of the purest sounds Yuri had ever heard and leaned back to look at him. His eyes were almost identical to Otabek’s, with a few specks of green here and there that came from Yuri. He was all smiles, which Yuri had no idea where that came from. He still couldn’t talk much yet, but he could say Daddy, Papa and Katya (more like “Kaya”) and that’s all that mattered.

Yuri couldn’t help but smile back and kiss his forehead, pushing his mop of dirty blonde hair from his eyes. Yuri hated the fact that his hair was going to get darker as he grew older and he fully blamed Otabek.

Yuri waited a few more moment and just as he was getting impatient, he got a text from Otabek saying he could come in.

“Thank God.” Yuri mumbled and stood up, placing Nikolai on the ground so he could walk. Yuri kept a tight grip on him, knowing he would run if he got the chance.

When Yuri entered the rink he immediately stopped, seeing Katya in the middle of the ice, holding tightly to Otabek’s hands. Otabek was smiling down fondly at her, as he always looked at his children like this. 

“Otabek, what…?” Yuri came closer to the edge and sat Nikolai on the ridge, small legs dangling over the ice.

“Surprise, daddy!” Katya said. Yuri could hear the tremble in her voice and knew she was being brave to him. It brought tears to his eyes, honestly.

“We made this for you.” Otabek told him with a soft smile that was alway there, creasing his brown and the lines besides his lips. He pressed play on the remote and an original song blared form the speakers. Otabek and Katya began to move. It may have been a little bit stiff and awkward on Katya’s part but she looked beautiful none the less.

Yuri held one arm tight around Nikolai while his other hand covered his lips, watching them do wide figure eights out on the ice. They went slow to make sure Katya didn’t fall and hurt herself again. But she had a shaky smile on her lips and she was doing amazingly despite this being her second time on the ice.

Otabek watched him lift her effortlessly, her forty-five pounds seemingly nothing to him. Katya’s squeal of delight echoed through the rink and Yuri couldn’t help but laugh with her. The song was only about a minute long but it felt like forever. Yuri was overwhelmed with emotions as he watched father and daughter skate together, something he had only dreamed about since Katya’s accident.

Then it was over and Katya was eager to get off the ice. Otabek skated her over to the rubber part and she immediately plopped down, tugging off the skates and being sure to not tocuh the blade. Then she jumped up and clung to Yuri.

“Happy birthday daddy!” She smiled at him, one front tooth gone, the other halfway grown in. Yuri was ugly crying but he didn’t care, kneeling down to hug his daughter tight.

“Thank you, thank you.” He sniffed and kissed her forehead before standing up, wrapping his arms tight around Otabek, who was still standing in his skates.

“Did you write that?” Yuri asked.

Otabek smiled softly. “Why do you think I’ve been staying late at the school every day?”

“You told me you were giving extra credit.” Yuri shoved him and Otabek laughed, pulling Yuri into a kiss.

“I love you.” Otabek whispered. “Happy birthday Yura.”

Yuri just smiled and brought him closer, crying happily into his shoulder while Nikolai and Katya tugged on their shirts for attention.

More Otayuri parents!

Finn handles a blaster like no one else

Do you want to talk about how badly The Force Awakens shortcharged Finn’s character? One thing that no one to my knowledge is talking about is his phenomenal skill with blasters. This is LucasFilm’s fault, not the audience’s, because it was shown right on the screen but never properly foregrounded.

I don’t mean the time he picked up starfighter gunning with a ten-second tutorial, then combined that with lightning-fast tactical judgment in a thirty-second firefight to get himself and Poe out alive while still minimizing Stormtrooper casualties. No, that was an amazing scene that blurred by too fast for almost any reasonable viewer to fully appreciate, but it wasn’t… what’s the word… unthinkable.

What’s unthinkable, and what passed right under the audience’s noses because LF filmed it but didn’t emphasize it, is what Finn does with a handheld blaster. As I will discuss, his style at least as shown in the battle at Takodana is very different from the way we’ve seen the heroes use blasters but also different from the way Stormtroopers use them, combining his training with his own astounding skills and strength.

I hesitate to even call this style “good,” because it could be very bad indeed for certain purposes, e.g. survival. It does, however, showcase his athleticism and sheer boldness in a breathtaking way.

This is hard to tell, though, on a casual viewing because it goes by so fast and is treated more as background action to Poe’s aerial acrobatics than a focus in itself. I didn’t realize just what was so special about this sequence until I did a deliberate comparison with how other characters and groups used different types of blasters in different situations. Let me explain below the fold just why Finn’s blaster style shown here is incredible and unique.

Keep reading

Things Never Changed

Group: Got7

Member: Mark Tuan

Pairing: member x reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2739

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Okay so I’m slowly becoming Got7 trash thanks to @fortheloveofsuga (fuck you for giving me “feelings”) so I was compelled to write something for them. I just kinda wrote this at like 3am on my phone and debated on whether not to post it, but I decided I would. :) 

@seokvie @gotsinvn @mark-myass (i know y’all appreciate Got7 so here ya go *insert side eye emoji*)

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There’s an old philosophy that says “absence makes the heart grow fonder”. The sentiment seems beautiful. Poetic, even. The thought that your absence from someone’s life will be an ever-present hollowness that makes it nearly impossible to complete simple daily tasks–the constant memory of the one you love dancing along the edges of your mind, just barely out of reach from your shaking and nostalgic fingers. The deep and meaningful love a connection that is blatant and comforting and unwavering, even with thousands of miles of ocean separating you. Poetic, indeed.

But it’s just not realistic.

Keep reading

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JUSTICE CABAL, FORWARD MARCH!!

new background for my tumblr, actual background practice and also a thing for a secret summer project I’m working on!!! \o/ had this in my wips for a really long time but finally used some free time to finish this off!!! I love these kids so much ;____; forever my babies