paris would have been into that

Whipped…boyfriend!!!

***

“Boo!”

Y/N isn’t expecting for Harry to be surprised much, at least not for sneaking up on him.

“Y/N, love! I’ve missed ye’ so much, kitten!”

He tucks his phone into his back pocket before wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her up, a grin so wide and a feeling so comforting that nothing in the world could ruin the moment.

“Missed you loads, too, H!” She whispers into his hair, the feeling of his breath on her neck soothing her instantly.

Harry pecks at her neck before setting her back down, his eyes scanning over her every feature. His heart melts at the way she looks up at him, and when he sees her stand on her tip toes, he leans down to press his lips to hers.

It’s a playful exchange of kisses, with Y/N’s hands gripping at the sides of his printed shirt, and Harry’s large hands cupping her face. Kisses with open eyes and big stupid smiles. Kisses that don’t last longer than three second before their lips separate only to press together again. And in between them, Harry whispers ‘missed ye’ too much’ and ‘I love you’ in broken phrases.

Missed. Kiss. Ye’. Kiss. Too. Kiss. Much. Kiss.

He nudges his nose against hers lightly before pressing one last kiss to her forehead and wrapping an arm around her neck so it dangles over her shoulder as they begin to walk.

“Didn’t tell me ye’ were comin’ for a visit, love.”

Not that Harry minds, at all. He just would’ve liked to have been the first person she saw, not some random cabbie or whoever picked her up at the airport.

“Thought it’d be fun to pop by unannounced. Jeff pitched the idea after he overheard Mer talking to me over the phone. Said you could use a little company in that empty hotel room of yours.”

She bumps his hip with hers, giggling for a moment at the famous half smirk he gives her.

“Hm, well if tha’s why ye’ came here then I reckon we should get t’ tha’ empty hotel room, ehh?”

He’s stopped dead in his tracks, moving to stand in front of Y/N to look at her directly. And Harry can visibly see her tense up, the playful look she’d been sporting a few seconds ago gone.

“Y/N-” he begins, eyebrows furrowed into concern, only to be cut off.

“I’m sorry, H. I know it’s taking forever, but it’s just-” and she’s trying so hard not to disappoint him. She knows they’ve been dating far too long for intimacy not to be part of the relationship already, and it makes her mad that she can’t let herself love him in that way. Not because she doesn’t want to, she knows they’re meant to be together, she just doesn’t feel ready yet.

“No. No, kitten, you’ve got nothing t’ apologise for,” Harry’s hands rub at her upper arms soothingly, hoping to assure her that he’s okay with it, “m'not ever g'na rush this. I want ye’ t’ be sure when the time comes that you want it as much as I do.”

“But I know that it’s frustrating and-”

“-and m'g'na wait as long as I’ve got t’. M'not g'na love ye’ less b'cos of it. Jus’ wan’ ye’ t’ be sure, love.”

He gives her that smile. That toothy smile that can make all their problems fade into nothing. And so she smiles, too.

“Tha’s m'girl.”

***

“Well would ye’ look at this lovely picture.”

A 'wuh-PSSSH’ sound follows the comment, a voice too familiar not to notice.

“Still whipped, mate?”

Harry just smiles, unwrapping his arm from around Y/N to stand up and greet his friend in a proper hug.

“Oh, look at this,” Y/N can hear Harry coo before she’s even got the chance to slip out of the booth they’re currently sat at, “Freddie’s here!”

And to say he completely disregarded Louis at this point would be an understatement, he might as well be invisible now.

Harry stretches his arms out, and Louis complies at letting him hold his one year old.

“Nice t’ see ye’ too, Harry. I’ve been great, thanks mate.”

Harry pays the sarcasm no mind as he sets the baby on his hip, and instead smiles and coos at Freddie who looks up at him with happy eyes.

“Don’t worry, did the same to me earlier.” Y/N laughs at the thought of Harry having left her side with out a second thought to hold who she came to find out was an adorable little baby girl named Ruby.

Louis welcomes her into a hug, whispering a low 'outta have kids then’ in her ear.

And that warms her heart. To think that one day, she’ll be lucky enough to welcome a lovely little human that’ll be a mix of her and Harry, she honestly can’t wait. But now she feels even more guilty.

But Harry smiles at her adoringly, baby Freddie in his arms chuckling and trying to grab at Harry’s short but now longer hair.

“I see you two are still disgustingly sweet as usual,” Louis comments.

Just the way Harry looks at you, it’s unreal and anyone who knew you both would swear you were meant for each other, even before either of you realised it. And that’s exactly what your friends thought. Seeing Harry look at you the way he did at the many dinners and house parties everyone would gather for definitely added to those thoughts.

And you two have been practically inseparable ever since New York. You were glad Harry had gathered up the courage to find you that night, don’t know if you’d be in this position if he hadn’t. You were glad he was hell bent on not leaving that hotel room until things were cleared up because “really miss m'best friend. Tell me wha’ I did so I can fix it, kit'en.” And you were glad he’d said those three words that solidified the fact that he was there to make sure you were his, even though you had been all along.

“Will be. So long as this one will have me,” the press of Harry’s lips to Y/N’s has Louis grunting in pretend distaste.

“Better get going, don’ wanna interrupt Harry still being whipped.”

Harry hands Freddie over with a pout.

“Still no complaints though.”

***

To say everything is going perfect would be an understatement. Harry’s music is being praised and appreciated and Y/N can’t explain how happy it makes her that Harry’s happy. His performances are nothing short of amazing, and she loves seeing him gush over “they were singing along, babe! Just a great feelin’!”

She’s been flying back and forth along his side during all this. New York, London, Paris, and then back to New York. And Harry loves sharing this with her. He loves having her watching him from the side lines, singing along as she claps and gives him thumbs up and blows kisses at him for support. He loves getting off stage with so much adrenaline and kissing her so hard because Harry doesn’t take anything for granted, no. He’s thankful he’s getting to do what he loves and even more with his better half by his side.

“A'right. How do I look?” His jazz hands and that big smile plastered on his face are indication of just how hyped he is for this.

“I’ve never seen anyone pull off black better than you, H!”

And it’s true. Harry can pull off any colour. Blue, red, yellow, pink; you name it! But black. Black gives him a sexy sort of mysterious sophistication.

“Think so?” He looks himself over in the mirror, content at his choice.

Y/N looks at him through the mirror from where she’s sat on the couch of his dressing room, nodding a yes as she gets up to stand on the furniture.

“Please no stage diving today?” She’d be all for it, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s already tried it and it didn’t go as planned. She really doesn’t want him or any of the fans getting injured.

Harry only chuckles and nods in embarrassment as he strides over to stand in front of her, his head tilting up just a bit to look at her since she’s standing on the cushions.

“M'serious, Harry!” But she smiles anyway, arms lazily slung over his shoulders and around his neck. She brings a hand to tug at the hairs at the nape of it as Harry sets his at either side on her hips, thumbs rubbing at her hipbones.

It’s the last listening party before the album is released, and Harry’s pretty sure the second he mentions stage diving, Jeff will have him pulled off stage. Or carried because it is Jeff after all.

“I’ll try not to, kit'en.” Harry doesn’t know why it was a good idea to do it in the first place. But he had all that adrenaline and he was just so excited. Y/N of course had scolded him and slapped his arm after he got off stage because, “you could’ve broken something Harry!!” But he’d kissed the small amount of anger away.

“I’ll be watching from the sides?” Every time before a performance or an interview she says that, and every time she does Harry smiles just as big.

***

“Congrats, Ni!!!!!”

Finally, after a few months of all the boys doing their own thing, everyone’s finally got a chance to gather up at a small venue for Harry’s pre-launch party. Jeff had asked Y/N for help in terms of invitees, and it’d be outrageous not to have Liam, Niall, and Louis attend.

And so Niall is the last to arrive, and the moment he walks through the door, a very tipsy Y/N can’t contain her excitement at finally reuniting with another one of her friends.

“Oí, have enough drinks for the rest of us have ya?” Niall just about tumbles back with the sudden weight of her body as she throws herself at him, but he catches her in his arms and steadies her.

“You’re late mister,” she’s slurring just a bit, words somewhat coherent.

“Does 'arry know you’re drunk??”

He wraps an arm around her waist for support, in fear that she might be too over her head to even walk with out tripping and falling.

“Drunk? M'not drunk,” she pokes at his chest, and Niall only now notices the red cup in her hand threatening to spill over his shirt, “you’re just sober.”

He lets out a lively laugh. Drunk Y/N is something else, and he’s only ever seen her like this when Harry’s not really paying attention to her.

She hiccups and continues with a pout, “he’s over somewhere. With some girl,” she motions her hand around and nowhere in particular, again, the drink sploshing around in the red cup.

Harry hadn’t meant to leave her alone, he’d been pulled away from her side by someone he can’t even recall the name of, because that’s how out of it he is. So he’s been handed drink left and right, downing them with out retaliation because he doesn’t wanna seem like a downer. And although he really should go find his Y/N, he doesn’t think she’d mind if she’s having fun too.

But she’s not. At least not as much as she’d like. All she wants is for Harry to kiss her and hold her hand, because they’re both affectionate drunks, and it’s always a plus to annoy their friends in that way. But she hasn’t seen him in a while. Last she caught a glimpse was about an hour or so ago, when he was being led over to a group of people she doesn’t really recognise, and it made her notice how out of it she is. She doesn’t remember inviting half the people in the room, but the little attention Harry seems to be giving her has her drinking with out a purpose.

It reminds her of when they were only friends. In the same circumstance, she’d drink the night away in hopes of erasing the imagine of Harry smiling wide, eyes crinkled because some girl was whispering god knows what in his ear. He’d be hunched over just a bit to give the girl better access as she mumbled and giggled. And Harry would nod slightly before moving to whisper something back, face too close to her liking. But it, too, was always nothing, because shortly after she would have to turn away. Try to hide the fact that yes, she might have been staring at Harry for much longer than she’d ever admit to. And when he’d catch a glimpse of her doing just the same with a guy, giggling and whispering and smiling like crazy, he’d make his way over. Weaving his way around dancing bodies to get to her. And he’d smile that drink infused crooked smile of his before whispering something like “let’s get ye’ home, pet,” and leading her out of the place with his palm to her lower back.

So yeah, this sort of reminds her of old times. Only this time, they’re actually dating and he’s nowhere to be found.

***

Harry doesn’t remember getting home. He doesn’t remember taking of his clothes either.

In fact, the last thing he remembers is Y/N kissing at his neck and tugging at his pants.

And..oh no. If that’s how…if they were both drunk and-ah shit! Neither of them were suppose to be drunk when it finally happened. Harry wanted to make sure she would be okay with everything going on. He would have wanted to whisper how good she was taking him. Wanted to assure her that he was there with her, that all he wanted was to make her feel good. Harry just wanted to make love to her the right way.

And now he doesn’t even remember half the night.

So he bring his hand over his face, because not only does he not remember, he also doesn’t recognize the room he’s woken up in.

And then he looks beside him at the body under the white sheets.

He doesn’t recognize the person he’s woken up next to.

That’s not his Y/N.

Adorable things we've learned from Paris' "Rolling Stone" interview

1) Michael teased her about a crush she had on a girl when she was young
2) I repeat, Michael accepted his daughter and her sexuality from the get go.
3) He frequently reminded her to be proud of her race and her blackness
4) Michael was a pretty strict parent (which we already knew but STILLL)
5) Prince and Paris know that Michael is and will always be their biological father
6) People tell Paris she’s so much like her dad it’s frightening
7) Paris has the same “weakness” as Michael- letting emotions cloud your judgement (according to Prince)
8) Prince and Paris believe their father was completely innocent
9) Michael used to cry to the kids at night because of how cruel the world was to him
10) While rehearsing for “THIS IS IT” Michael was so tired that Paris would encourage him to take a nap with her
11) Paris believes Michael was murdered
12) It took her until she was 10 to figure out that Michael couldn’t have a baby and so she had to have a mum
13) When she asked Michael who her mother was, Michael simply said “Debbie” (Goddamit Michael! How is she supposed to know who that is?!)
14) Paris was on the same antidepressants as Michael at one point
15) Paris explained that losing Michael was the worst thing possible so anything bad that has happened since has been nothing in comparison
16) She shrugged off just randomly finding a platinum album in the attic (I wish!)
17) Michael introduced her to tons of music, including classical and rap
18) Sometimes Michael would come into their home school lessons and when he did the kids knew they were done with school for the day
19) Michael read to them at night
20) When she was younger Paris used to think that all she ever needed was her dad and Disney channel
21) Paris has track marks from drug use, some of which, along with her self harm scars, are covered with tattoos
22) 11 of her 50+ tattooed are dedicated to Michael
23) Michael used to call her “Tinker Bell”
24) It took her years to figure out Michael had a name and wasn’t just called “Daddy” or “Dad”
25) Paris knew Michael loved Lisa Marie because apparently he looks “whipped” in the YANA music video
26) Michael taught her how to cook
27) Michael made amazing fried chicken (KFC?!)
28) Paris is scared for the coral reef
29) Paris only found out who her mom was after Michael died, because she looked it up on the Internet
30) Paris is a sweetheart who deserves the best of this world

All His - Part 1 (A Kyungsoo Series)

“Hey did you hear? We have a new assignment. Some big group of foreigners coming in for a musical tour.” Your co worker Anna whispered into your ear as you took off your bag and set down your coffee at the big conference table. The phone call you received from your supervisor this morning advising you of the new client and requesting your presence was nothing out of the ordinary, but you were surprised to find several other translators from the firm gathered around the table as well.

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anonymous asked:

I'd love to hear your thoughts on La La Land's ending! If you don't mind.

SO HERE WE GO. I’ve heard a lot of think pieces/complaining about how the movie is about hollywood, or white men saving jazz, or unrealistically fulfilling your dreams all at once, etc., but I don’t see how you can watch that ending and come away with those things. Sure, the movie dabbles in all of that, and you can make commentary on how unrealistic that is, or in the case of John Legend’s role in the movie, how shitty it is—but then, there’s that ending. That glorious, perfect pitched ending.

The last we see of Mia and Sebastian together, they’re making a choice many of us have or will make in our lives; a turning point in a relationship, where you have to choose what you’re willing to sacrifice, or give to keep the love that you have. They make what I would say, as a person who has made this very choice, the right choice, and seperate for the good of their careers. And realistically, painfully so, that is a lasting break—we jump five years, and things have happened that make their separation permanent (Mia is married, she has a child). That’s startling and, because it happens so quickly instead of the slow and quiet way that it occurs in real life, unbelievable. We think, they’re playing a trick on us, this can’t possibly be where this movie of sparkling lights and love songs is going to end. But the longer the scene goes on, and we see Mia in the car with her husband, so comfortable, it starts to set in, and then, even though we know it’s coming, when she sees the sign at his club—the sign she made for him—we feel the way she does. It’s been five years for her, and she has that space that we, as an audience, were not given from the main storyline, so she’s surprised, and suddenly longing, and that’s an emotion we can feel. 

But the ending isn’t about where Mia finds herself, it’s about Sebastian. He plays his song, and the fantasy begins for him and we get to go along with it. Mia may have moved on, but Sebastian is closer to us, he still feels that sting when he sees her, much worse then she felt. The cinematography here is beautiful, and the music carries us through it, and it’s satisfying, just to retrace the steps of where we have already been with these characters, to hear the same cords they sang together. You can’t tell me it didn’t hit you when, in the bar, the music swelled and he walked right up to kiss her. 

Because this is from Sebastian’s point of view, we see the way he wished it had been, how they could have stayed together, and it is so firmly planted in what he could have done differently. Mia still takes the audition, gets the job, goes to Paris, but he never takes that job with the band, he’s there at her show, he goes to Paris with her. His fantasy includes being there for her, in a way that he never really was during their relationship. He puts her, her dreams and ambitions, first, so that in the end, Mia ends up exactly where she is now, where she’s meant to be, but she’s married to him instead. And even while he’s thinking of it, the unreality of that situation bleeds in—through the film set, the Van Gogh-esque swirls of Paris. It could never have been real, because he was a different man then, he would have always made those choices. He had yet to learn his lesson.

In the end, they are able to smile at each other and part again, because this isn’t a love story. This is a story about growing up. It’s a story about how a person can mean so much to you during one point in your life, how they can change you, can take up all of the space in your world completely, and how much you can love them in that moment—and how beautiful that is. It isn’t lasting, it’s not guaranteed, it’s something you may regret and dwell on over and over later, but it is beautiful. Sebastian’s dream looks so unreal because not only did it not happen, it couldn’t have happened; there were a gulf of reasons why the two of them never would have worked out, even if he had gone with her to Paris. 

But they changed each other. They nudged each other towards their futures. They were each other’s turning point, towards success, their dreams, all the things that felt out of reach when they met. So when they said, before they parted, I will always love you, what they really meant was; I will always love what you have given me. 

Eurydice, Eat Your Heart Out (Adrino Percy Jackson AU)

In the dark of Cabin 10, staring up at the roof of his bunk, Adrien could hear the distant plucking of a harp as waves lapped lazily against the shoreline.

All things considered, it wasn’t surprising that he was having trouble sleeping; less than twenty-four hours earlier his father’s limo was nearly destroyed by a rampaging Cyclops that the middle-aged fashion mogul dispatched with a quick flick of a sword he drew from seemingly nowhere. From there, it was somewhat of a blur of packing, private jet rides, and clandestine car trips to the sunny shores of Long Island, New York, a silver pen containing the only means of protection he had in case other monsters attacked.

Monsters.

He could still scarcely believe it. If someone had told him that he was the product of an affair between his mother and the Greco-Roman goddess of love and beauty a few days ago, he would have been dialing Gorilla’s number as quickly as he could while backing away from them. Now, surrounded by dozens of half-siblings he never knew existed, Adrien didn’t quite know what to make of his current situation. He still thought he was going to wake up, home in Paris, and the whole thing would have been just a fever dream brought on by bad cheese; the attack, the journey, the music-

Sitting up in bed, Adrien strained his ears over the snoring of his bunkmate to hear the almost aimless melody that meandered its way across the waves. It was a song that sounded so familiar; like the chorus to something he had heard on the radio years ago. It couldnt’ve been coming from far, judging by the way it cut through the sound of twenty-five teenagers’ beauty sleep, so, clutching his pen and carrying his sneakers, Adrien tip-toed towards the door as quietly as possible, stepping out into the warm Long Island night.

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Marichat May Day 10 - ‘What if?’

“What if I was Adrien Agreste,” had been resting on the tip of Chat’s tongue for a while. When he finally voiced the question, Marinette’s answer was not one he’d been expecting.

Rated T || 786 Words

Cross posted on Ao3 || FF

I’d Probably Jump You

“Hey Princess, what if I told you I was Adrien Agreste?” Chat had been wondering for a while what would happen if he told Marinette who he really was. Would she finally talk to him as Adrien? Would she ask Chat to stop coming over? He was hoping it was the former.

“Honestly, I’d probably jump you.” She said it so simply with a little shoulder shrug that Chat couldn’t fully comprehend what she meant. She hadn’t even stopped working on her homework.

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Global Cyber-Attacks: What You Don’t Need To Know

Numerous news sources are reporting the facts you need to know about the recent global cyber-attacks. But few are reporting the facts you don’t need. We at FIJMU will rectify this situation now.

  • The cyber-attacks originated on a computer with several blue sharpie stains on its case.
  • Few if any violins were infected by the ransomware virus.
  • There is a 63% likelihood that at least one of the programmers involved wears glasses.
  • They may also have been wearing socks -and only socks- at the time.
  • As in no shoes not as in they were naked except for socks.
  • Though that would’ve been funny.
  • Several infected computers in Paris contained illegal copies of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s excellent film “Delicatessen.”
  • No llamas have been infected, because this is a computer virus and llamas are not technically computers.
  • The background to the virus pay screen is taken from the Sandra Bullock movie “The Net.”
  • The word “Virus” shares a root word with the word “Citrus.”
  • The key to unlocking any infected computer without paying is 12775.
  • Robert Downey Jr.’s computers do not yet have the virus.

You think you’re a monster
because your father’s blood runs through your veins;
a man who taught you to take a punch and never shed a tear,
until all that was left is this hardened soul of a hurricane.

But underneath all that anger and self hatred
is the kindest heart I have ever known.
You would fight the sun if it meant saving your people,
and you would do it all on your own.

If only I hadn’t waited so long to admit how much I love you.
Maybe we’d be in Paris and you’d be okay.
But I have a darkness inside that’s been struggling to get out.
I think it’s time for me to let it lead the way.

Why I like Beauty and the Beast 2017 better than the 1991 animated version (Spoilers)


1. Belle has even more backbone in this version. When Belle had Beast come into the light so she could see his face, she forced him to do so in the new movie. In the original Disney, she was more passive. I also loved that she flat out told Gaston “no” when he proposed. In the original, she told him “I just don’t deserve you.” Gag. In addition, she was orchestrating her own escape from the palace up until the Beast was injured, not just lying about accepting her fate. 

2. The Beast could read, which I think is more believable than him being illiterate. Really, it would have been more realistic in the original if Belle were the illiterate one (being just a village girl) and the prince, with his expensive education and need to write up documents when he became king, would have been taught to read. In addition, having already read probably all of the books Belle has, he can give honest opinions about them and they can have actual discussions. 

3. Belle is from Paris!! I loved getting to know more about how she came to live in the village. Knowing what happened to her mother was a nice addition, though I admit it wasn’t a burning question I needed answered. Honestly, I thought she was going to want to see Italy in that scene because it is where Romeo and Juliet takes place. 

4. It’s more French! The style of dress and extravagance (what some might even call gaudy/tacky) of the ball scene at the beginning of the movie is a good reminder that the movie is set in a time when the balance between royalty and peasantry was way off. The town beggar woman only accentuates this as she serves as a stark contract to the prince at the beginning of the movie. 

5. They showed more of the Beast’s asshole, spoiled prince side. I thought that helped portray the deeply rooted character flaw that inspired the curse to begin with better than the original did. A couple of other ways he acts like even more of a spoiled prince and one day future king in this is when he gives ultimatums, or when it’s obvious he doesn’t think there is anything special about all of his possessions (the library & his grounds, for instance) until he begins to see them through Belle’s eyes. 

6. I liked what they did with Maurice. In the original he was a sweet, kooky inventor who (you have to admit) bordered on the ridiculous. If you think about it, his constantly failing inventions probably only made trouble for Belle. In this version, he is more of a tinkerer and seems more mature and capable of taking care of himself instead of having to be taken care of by his daughter every time one of his experiments went awry. 

7. I thought this version better explained the curse. I liked that the entire village was actually cursed with memory loss and that the transformed servants had family members there who had forgotten they even existed. I also liked that the servants were gradually losing their humanity (it would have been cool though if the Beast followed suite) and that the palace fell apart a little more every time a petal fell. 

8. We were able to see more of the servants as people than just as servants. With the exception of Mrs. Potts & Chip, the original did little to show how heartbreaking the curse must have been more the servants. The Maestro and Madame Garderobe, Lumiere and Plumette, Mrs. Potts and Mr. Potts - all of these people had relationships that were affected by the curse. The new version gave what were bare bones before flesh. 

Marichat May Day 15:Something Sweet

My hand slipped


The first time she offered Chat a buttered croissant, he ate it under one minute. Marinette was afraid he would choke and die on her. Imagine what would have been if one half of Paris’ superheroes duo was killed by a damn croissant.

The first time when she gave him cookies, he inhaled a whole damn plate in two minutes and had crumbs all over his suit. It was kind of cute.

The first time when she gave him profiteroles he hugged her leg the entire time and kept wishing her all the good things in the world while shoving them in his mouth.

And when she brought him a Saint Honoré for the first time, Chat honestly looked like he was close to crying. He pulled Marinette in his lap and cuddled her against his chest the entire time whole shoving the damn dessert in his mouth and eventually crying. He actually started crying because he enjoyed that damn dessert so much.

At this point, Marinette believed he was either on a no sugar diet or simply had too much of a sweet tooth for his own good.

“Oh, princess!”

Speaking of the devil. Think of the cat and it comes sniffing after sweets, most likely. She turned to him. “What’s up, minou? Do you want something sweet?”

Chat strutted towards her and stopped close enough so she could feel his breath on her face. “Oh, yes, I do. But not a pastry this time. Just something as sweet”

His eyes dropped to her lips before meeting hers again and wiggling his eyebrows. Marinette looked entirely unimpressed. Did he watch another anime and needed someone to practice the flirting lines on? Oh well, if that’s how he wanted to play, so be it. She smirked.

“Then I can’t keep my poor kitty starved, now can I?”

He didn’t have time to respond, because Marinette grabbed his bell and pulled him into a passionate kiss. You could guess Chat.exe has stopped working. He didn’t expect this. Not at all. Holy shit, Marinette kissed like a pro. And she tasted like vanilla and strawberries. To add icing on the cake, Marinette got a good grip on him and pulled him in a dip. And when she considered she had kissed him enough (though she wouldn’t mind more, not that she would ever admit it out loud) she broke the kiss and smirked down at him.

“Was that sweetness enough for you, mon chaton?”

She swore she had never seen anybody turn that red.

The priest frowned slightly at this. “Fergus?” he said. “Fergus. Fergus. Yes, Fergus, got that. That’s all? No more name? Need more names, surely.”

“Fergus,” Fergus repeated, with a note of strain in his voice. Fergus was the only name he had ever had—bar his original French name of Claudel. Jamie had given him the name Fergus in Paris, when they had met, twenty years before. But naturally a brothel-born bastard would have no last name to give a wife.

“Fraser,” said a deep, sure voice beside me. Fergus and Marsali both glanced back in surprise, and Jamie nodded. His eyes met Fergus’s, and he smiled faintly.

“Fergus Claudel Fraser,” he said, slowly and clearly. One eyebrow lifted as he looked at Fergus.

Fergus himself looked transfixed. His mouth hung open, eyes wide black pools in the dim light. Then he nodded slightly, and a glow rose in his face, as though he contained a candle that had just been lit.

“Fraser,” he said to the priest. His voice was husky, and he cleared his throat. “Fergus Claudel Fraser.”

     ~ Voyager, Diana Gabaldon

Lana Del Rey Interviewed By Paris Match, May 17, 2017.

Lana Del Rey lounges on the divan.

She hasn’t left her false eyelashes, but she has gotten rid of her sadness. After two years of absence, the diva of “sad pop” comes back with “Lust for Life” her fifth album which comes out July 21st and “Love” her single, which has already passed 50 million views on YouTube. Same hypnotic voice, same poetic universe for a woman who now has a certain taste for happiness. Since her debut in 2012, on the internet, with Born to Die which made her one of the biggest stars in music, Lana tells us in mind-blowing songs and beautiful music videos of her fragile life as a young girl haunted by death and failure. Today, she says that she has overcome these demons and her toxic relationships. Single, maybe, but a little more light-hearted.

For her, it’s already history. At 17 years old, Elizabeth Woolridge Grant wrote her own songs and made her own music videos: “I took a lot of photos. Then I started to record myself, to use my image.” After seven hellish years of singing in Brooklyn bars, her music video “Video Games,” posted in 2011 and has since been viewed 155 million times, which thrusted the young American into an unforeseen notoriety. She evolved into Lana Del Rey, Lolita 2.0, fan of the sixties who over the course of her songs tells a sometimes indecent and provocative story but always sensual. “I am connected to the future and the past at the same time… That’s why I have few friends…” Today, she sings “I’m young and in love”. But confides that she has found happiness… since she is no longer dating. “I’ve never been lucky in choosing boyfriends”.

She always loved putting on a show: “As a child, I loved making my life a work of art.”
“My passion for beautiful films might explain my aesthetic,” says the woman who would have loved living in the Flower Power of the hippy years.
“Kids. Friends, all that’s a bonus. My dream is simply to be happy.”

From our colleague in Los Angeles Karelle Fitoussi.

Paris Match: We knew you as somber and melancholic, singing your stories about tormented love. You’ve come back with two songs that exude a lack of worry. What happened?

Lana Del Rey: I haven’t been dating for a year and a half. Apparently, that has done me a lot of good. [She laughs] I learned how to say no and to listen to the little voice in my head that tells me to do one thing or another.

Paris Match: You have “Trust no one” tattooed on your hand… Have you often been betrayed?

Lana Del Rey: Yes. I’ve never been good at choosing friends. But now it’s better, I know how to go about it. I’ve learned one thing, and that’s that people show you really quickly who they really are. You have to listen to them, and pay attention to the signs. In the past, I’ve had lovers who’ve told me strange things, things I should have found unacceptable, but I closed my eyes. That doesn’t happen to me anymore. At the smallest indication of something strange, I get out. A love story that doesn’t do you any good is toxic. I finally understand that.

Paris Match: Are you not afraid that your newfound happiness will ruin your inspiration?

Lana Del Rey: No. When I was writing Born to Die, I was living in London, and I met a lot of new people, I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I was full of hope. I saw myself evolving into this type of avant-garde artist and this excitement made creating simple and easy. When the critics starting being really harsh, when things started becoming more violent, that’s when that magic left me. So happiness is obviously a good thing. I’m not afraid.

Paris Match: The New York Times said that you were a “nightmarish reflection of cynicism and of American fakeness.” 

Lana Del Rey: An interesting start to someone’s career, isn’t it? [She laughs] It was horrible, completely horrible. I really must have loved music to have continued after that. But I should’ve stopped. Thankfully, things have changed. I won’t ever change myself to make myself more popular or to make someone else happy.

Paris Match: People have really shamed you for your heavily constructed public image. Some people even said that you’re a puppet.

Lana Del Rey: For a long time, I didn’t understand these reactions. Of course, I paid attention to my look. I had long styled hair, but I was too preoccupied with the music to understand why they talked about me like that. I was waiting for people to figure out for themselves that I was smart… I really had to question myself, to ask why people reacted to me like that. A question of energy, maybe. With a bit of space, even if I find [what they’re saying] ridiculous, I can understand.

Paris Match: If, with a wave of a magic wand, you could start all over, what would you change?

Lana Del Rey: Everything! I don’t even know where to start!

Paris Match: You wouldn’t be a singer?

Lana Del Rey: I love music, there were times where it saved me from my own demons, but it’s a double-edged sword. If I had the opportunity to take a simpler path, I would do it, without hesitation.

Paris Match: When you were younger, you dreamed of being a writer…

Lana Del Rey: Yes, but after having tried from a young age, I knew that I didn’t have the writer’s soul. I tried to write short stories, but they were terrible. So, I tried to do poetry… but it still wasn’t for me! That’s how I decided to write music. [She laughs]. The next step would have been Haikus!

Paris Match: Between two records and two tours, what do you do?

Lana Del Rey: I go to the beach. I swim once per week, I work out with my sister who shares my house with me. I take advantage of the sun and the wonderful Californian nature: with my girlfriends, we go to Big Sur or to Carmel… I never get over seeing the bright light from 7:30 in the morning. For a New Yorker like me, every time it’s still enchanting. Yes, I am that girl you can constantly talk about the time and the weather! But above all what I love the most in Los Angeles, is that there are so many musicians. Every band from London to New York have moved here! Artic Monkeys, The Last Shadow Puppets, Father John Misty… They’re all here in L.A.!

Paris Match: Have you finally found the community of artists you’ve always dreamed of being a part of?

Lana Del Rey: Yes. And when I go on tour, after four months on the road, they’re like me. They want to pick up where we left off. My friends who don’t do music, they’re lives have moved on.

Paris Match: How do you deal with living in the constant view of the paparazzi?

Lana Del Rey: I wrote a song called 13 beaches, which talks about how I do it, last summer, I had to go to 13 different beaches before I could find one without paparazzi, where I laid down with a book. But we can get used to anything. And then maybe it’s worth it. What I can’t get used to, is systematically finding my songs on the internet before they’re supposed to come out. It takes so much time to make a record… a year and a half! When leaving the studio, I always have to hope that they’re secure.

Paris Match: Why do you impose this cycle of every two years for an album?

Lana Del Rey: It’s the time needed for reflection and contemplation. My records are like love letters to myself.

Paris Match: And will you have kids?

Lana Del Rey: When I have kids… I’ll take them on the road with me. Muse’s or Chris Martin’s boys do it well! I have the feeling it’ll work out, whatever I decide to do. It’ll be a nice surprise. Yeah, I would love to have a family.

Paris Match: Is it on your agenda? 

Lana Del Rey: [She laughs]. It’ll happen one day. Without a doubt within the next five years. Kids. Friends, all that’s a bonus. My dream is simply to be happy. Which I am right now.

-Paris Match

anonymous asked:

I don't think this has been asked but how was the wedding? Who cried? Who all was there?(Sorry just curious)

Draco: Well, Harry didn’t want this whole big thrash of a wedding–

Harry: I just wanted to go down to the courthouses with a few witnesses–

Draco: Yes, you’re such a romantic.

Harry: Oh my god, you said you were okay with that!

Draco: *waving his hand carelessly with a wide grin*

Harry: And you know why I didn’t want it to be a whole shindig. it’d have been a complete nightmare, splashed all over the papers for months

Draco: *still grinning* And Mother was horrified that we didn’t want a big wedding and so Harry and she struck a deal–

Harry: *sighs*

Draco: Harry would get his no-fuss wedding in the bloody courthouse–

Harry: And she’d throw us a ‘quiet little reception’ in the Manor grounds.

Draco: *pleased grinning*

Harry: *impassively* There were two hundred people in attendance.

Draco: *vibrating with laughter*

Harry: There was a fucking string quartet–

Draco: *covers his face to hide his laughter*

Harry: Caterers from bloody Paris

Draco: *finally pulling himself together* Oh, shut up, it was beautiful; and we ended up having a fabulous time.

Harry: *grudgingly* It was alright… Atleast Narcissa was kind enough to ensure the press never got in.

Draco: *happily* And we got more presents than I could count! 

Harry: *shaking his head in fond exasperation* 

2

Pens and paintbrushes http://archiveofourown.org/users/Erikapell/works
****

It was late and he knew he should be home, he knew he had work at the publishing office early tommorow morning, but Jughead Jones was not one to do what was expected of him, especially not when he had the worst case of writers block he had ever come across.

He was staring blankly at the open poppy field in front of him, New York City was definitely nothing like Riverdale, the pushing and the yelling and the overpopulated streets, so when he came across this hidden gem he had been eternally grateful for the tiny bit of peace and serenity it provided.

Archie snored loudly from the back of the beat up pick up truck Jughead was currently perched on top of, He smiled at his obnoxious best friend and went back to scribbling in his notebook. Jughead needed inspiration, he was at a standstill with his novel and Archie was happy to tag along, happy to be away from the studio for a bit, even if he couldn’t keep his eyes open for longer than an hour. Archie was an up and coming musician and he worked tirelessly to get his music heard, something Jughead had always admired about his best friend.

His eyes were fairly close to glazing over themselves as he watched the orange and purple sunset dip lower behind the hills.

“Betty! Please, these are givenchi! I’m going to get Pollen all over my new cape!”

Jughead eyes snapped open at the sound of a very agitated female voice, squinting into the distance he saw what had the dark haired girl so up in arms.

Honey blonde hair and long tans legs peeking out of a long flower white maxi skirt, slit up the side and blowing behind her as she pulled what he assumed was her friend through the flowers

“I’m gonna miss it Ronnie, I just found the perfect color for the sky and I’m gonna miss it if we don’t hustle! Move that Pilates sculpted booty!” She giggled, her hands gripping a variety of colored pencils and a thick white sketchbook.

Jughead couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blonde, her midriff was bare and toned underneath the loser white crop top as she made her way towards him, her eyes were looking directly past him at the sunset in the distance and he could make out bright hazel green irises. Apparently all the commotion woke sleeping beauty from his slumber and Archie crawled towards the roof of the car, setting his eyes on the approaching girls.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me there’d be chicks, look at the dark haired one.” Archie rubbed his eyes sleepily, leaning forward to get a better look.

Suddenly the two girls were directly in front of the dark green pick up truck and The blonde was climbing on top of it.

“Elizabeth!” The raven haired girl shouted, her eyes wide and appalled.

She continued to climb
“I’m so sorry, but I really need this view, I’m so sorry!”

She pushed past Archie and dropped beside Jughead, ripping the sketchbook open and immediately sketching the sight before her.

“I am so sorry about her. She’s an artist, I’m sure you know how temperamental they are. It’s the heat I think, it’s gotten to her, made her forget her manners.” Her friend stated pointedly, her hands on her hips as she shook her head.

Jughead was speechless, this absolute enigma of a girl was seated beside him, her thigh pressed against his as she effortlessly drew the most beautiful piece of work he had ever seen, he watched her draw strokes on the paper, the colors perfectly matching the scenery in front of them. He vaguely heard Archie helping the dark haired girl into the bed of the truck, when the beauty in question glanced up , placing her pencil down and sighing relived, apologetic eyes meeting his captured ones.

“I really am so sorry, it’s just the sunset moves so quickly ya know, I haven’t been able to capture it all week. And this is perfect.”

Jughead shook his head
“I get it, don’t worry about it. You can climb my truck anytime.” He smiled at the light blush that rose to her cheeks. She stuck her hand out

“I’m Betty Cooper, it’s nice to meet you.”

Betty Cooper?! His jaw visibly dropped as he stared blatantly. Betty Cooper was one of the most well known young artists in all of NewYork, her work was hung in the some of the best galleries in the cities. People begged for her work, she chose to remain anonymous in the sense of face to face. The only thing people knew of Betty Cooper was her and name and her talent.

From behind him he heard a giggle
“That’s not usually the reaction she gets.”

He looked over and The pearl wearing girl was perched on Archie’s lap

“I’m Veronica Lodge. And yes I am the world famous fashion designer, no need to drop your draw twice James Dean.”

Jughead raised a brow, he had never heard of her but from the looks of her he could tell she wasn’t lying.

“She’s very proud of her work.” Betty giggled from beside him, he could tell that the quiet blonde didn’t share the same outgoing personality as her friend, but from the soft way she smiled at Veronica it was clear they were very close.

“I’m Jughead Jones. Definitely not as accomplished as you but Jughead Jones nonetheless.” He gripped her hand, holding it for a second longer than necessary. His stomach flip flopping at the unfamiliar feeling, something in her eyes shifted and he knew she was feeling the same thing.

“He will be famous though, he’s writing a book and it’s really good, his publisher is just waiting for it to be finished.” Archie said from below, his arm slung lazily around Veronica’s waist as he whispered in her ear.

“You write!” Betty smiled, her hand moving to grip his arm as she looked at him excitedly.

Jughead blushed rose petal pink, and nodded shyly

“Something like that.”

“Id love to read your work some time.” She was so soft and gentle, Jughead wasn’t accustomed to this type of woman, growing up on the Southside of Riverdale, girls were bitter and angry, moving to New York he hadn’t been interested in finding anyone, but with her soft hand around his forearm and her long blonde hair brushing his cheek.. well maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He shook his head quickly, like she would be interested in somelike you, her a grip Jughead, His mothers nasal sharp voice echoed in his head.

“Well lover boys, we better get going. I have a meeting in Paris tommorow morning and then I’m back here by lunch.” Veronica shrugged, daintily stepping off the bed of the truck as Archie helped her down.

Betty rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Jughead as he laughed quietly, his hands wrapped around her waist and he carefully dropped her in front of him, her feet on solid ground, she stared up at him.

“Id like to see you again Jughead Jones.” She whispered.

Jughead swallowed heavily, his eyes boring into hers

“Id like that Betty Cooper”

She pulled her sketch pad out and scribbled her number down on torn piece of paper. Handing it to him she threw him a final glance and followed Veronica towards the trail.

Jughead watched her retreating back his fingers clutching the number in his hand, Archie came to stand beside him, holding his palm open

“Dude! You got her number too? Awesome! Veronica wrote hers in lipstick so I can’t really close my hand until I can find my phone…” Archie rambled on and Jughead smiled staring down at the piece of paper.

Jughead Jones life was about to become a whole lot different.

anonymous asked:

I remeber you answered an ask about It so Fox!Alya/Nino "on a scale of one-ten how okay are you with making out/ kissing me right now" or just a kiss prompt.

Nino hadn’t been listening to anything when he heard her land on the balcony, but he pretended that he was. His headphones were on but nothing had been playing, but he guess he just didn’t want to admit to her that he had been waiting to see if she would come that night too. 

He waited to look up until she tapped on the glass door, rationalizing that it was a sharper sound so it worked with his excuse. When he did he saw one of the great heroines of Paris, smiling at him through the glass as she gestured for him to open the door. 

Man she made him so nervous…

“Hey DJ,” she said kindly, her tone seemingly to always have some kind of lilt to it, something he loved. Everything about her reminded him of music. If he had to pick a genre it would probably be Jazz; strong, winding and smooth but sassy. 

“Hey Fox,” he shot back, smiling too as he shut the door behind himself. “Back for another ‘civilian checkup’?”

“Oh right,” she said with a chuckle, her tail flicking around her legs as she settled her weight on her hips. “That’s the excuse I used last time I came here right?”

Nino stiffened, something electric shooting up his back. To his dismay Vixen noticed, grinning to herself at his reaction. 

Sure it had kind of felt like an excuse when she used it before, the first time was after an attack. The second was just ‘checking up’ but now she wasn’t even pretending. She admitted point blank she had just made it up.

“Excuse?” he clarified, still trying to smile but a bit thrown now, and the more she enjoyed it the more he found to need to defy it. Why did she have to have the upper hand? 

“Well its hard to work up reasons to keep coming back here,” she admitted with a shrug, watching his face the whole time with a smile. “But I still end up here anyways.”

“Why is that?” he asked, trying to look away to give himself some space but he was hanging on the answer. 

“Am I not welcome?”

“You know you are,” he chuckled, not even worrying that he might have upset her, he knew he didn’t. Her laugh a few moments later proved it. 

Nino walked to the balcony rail and let it take his weight, aware of her when she came up beside him to do the same. She was close enough that he could feel her body heat, and a shock went through him when he felt her tail absent-mindedly flick across the backs of his knees. 

They were quiet for a little while, but he felt her tail again curl around his legs and that same shock kept dominating him. When she came a little closer, so close their arms almost touched, that shock became a heat and he twisted his fingers together over the railing, trying to focus. 

Man she kept doing this, and he was getting worse with dealing with it and she knew it

It had taken a little while for him to admit to himself that the superhero had been flirting with him, because the concept itself was so entirely impossible it just refused to occur to him, no matter how transparent she was. It took Adrien literally going “DUDE you can’t be serious,” for him to even start to see it. And then even after that it took her literally coming to his house at night on her own for him to maybe maybe think that she was in to him.

Clearly she was getting impatient, but he still looked out over the city to hide how flustered he was. 

It just didn’t make any sense!? Why?! How had he even managed to capture her attention in the first place? He wasn’t anybody, he was just a random guy and maybe she might seem like she liked him or whatever but it- it just wasn’t- she-

“DJ?” she suddenly spoke up, seemingly aware of his silent breakdown judging by the smile in her voice. How he was seriously still denying it was probably the cutest thing about him, but damn it now she was kind of over it and she was pretty sick of waiting. She waited for him to look at her again with his agonized gold eyes before continuing, because he clearly needed her to be blunt. “One a scale of one to ten how on board are you with kissing me right now?” 

The poor guy stared, and stared a little more, his eyes wide and face completely flushed even in the dark before he finally said, “W-what?!”

“Right now,” she said again, looking up at him at not attempting to hide that she wanted him too, even though she had been transparent about it for ages now. “Right this second. Ten being the highest.” 

“I-! w- you-!!,” he tried to speak, but he looked down at her and the words fell apart, because she was very close now and waiting for him to answer. One thing he noticed though, even though his world was imploding, is that she had one foot back. Like she was completely prepared to back off if he said no, but was hoping that he wouldn’t. 

Hoping. Because she wanted him to kiss her.

“I- well-, ten!?” he finally managed, his arms clutched to his chest. To his surprise Vixen looked shock, and for the first time ever, she looked a little flustered too. 

“Really?” she couldn’t help but ask, “Ten?”

“That’s the highest number you gave me!” he shouted back, his embarrassment making him indignant even if there was no real anger in it. When he said it though she looked even more flustered, before a grin split across her face.

She looked like she was about to say something else, but hell, he was tired of being the one on the end of his rope here. He had been yelling into his pillow about this girl forever now and she took every chance she could to make him blush. In fights, while saving him, on his balcony, anytime they saw each other. Every time he was the one who was too afraid to make a move because it didn’t make any sense to him that it was even happening, but crap man, it had never been because he didn’t like her. It was because she couldn’t have liked him.

But now, screw it, seriously. He was going to have the upper hand here. So before she could speak or tease of flirt or do anything else anymore he reached out and slipped one hand around her back, using his size to pull her towards him. And with the other hand he reached out for her face and tilted it up, and stole the words from her lips himself.

Disneyland Paris Castle Concept” Tim Delaney, 1990

During the development of the Disneyland Paris park, one of the biggest concerns was the park’s centerpiece castle. After all, France was chock full of its own fantasy-like castles, so whatever the Imagineers built needed to be even more impressive than their previous feats. Many concepts and ideas were presented, but one of the most dramatic departures from the formula was from Imagineer Tim Delaney. Shown here, Delaney envisioned an art nouveau-esque observation tower inspired by European visionaries H.G. Wells and Jules Verne. Guests would have been able to take ornate elevators to the observation decks for full views of this new Disney land. While this aesthetic was not a fit for the park’s castle, it was incorporated into the park’s Discoveryland and into future Disney parks.

Art ©️ Disney

Tales of Miss Fortune

Welp, this was meant to be a Blancfortune oneshot. The me and @ladyofacat had some 3 AM talks and this turned into a villain!Ladybug au. Oops. Also, if you expect plot, leave the expectations at the door lmao. This story will mostly be sexual tension escalading and Miss Fortune/Marinette driving Chat/Adrien mad.

Next 

Happy Valentine’s Day!


Chat Noir moved stealthily through the dark corridors of the Louvre. It was fights like this when he was truly grateful for his night vision. Fights in the dark were an advantage for him and he knew he needed any asset he could get when it came to fighting her. Because honestly, there was only one thief in the whole of Paris (and possibly Europe) that would go on a stealing spree without any care for the security system.

Miss Fortune.

Chat’s grip on his staff tightened as he scanned the halls for his nemesis. She was the nightmare of Paris for almost six years now. And while she was not robbing simple people, there wasn’t any museum, gallery and private collection that had been spared. And more often than Chat would have liked to admit, she got away with it. He didn’t even want to think how many millions if not billions of euros had been lost because of her. Damn her.

Chat’s eyes scanned the hall he was in, feeling a little bit creeped out by the eyes in the portraits almost following him. He was never a fan of museums at night. Sometimes he wished he could just the exact place where Miss Fortune was. Not that he was worried she will escape. She never left without a fight. More often than not, Chat felt she was doing all these robberies with a clear purpose in mind: to drive him mad. Frankly, she was succeeding. With a sigh, he stopped in place focusing on the noise. His cat ears twitched as he heard a faint noise. from somewhere afar and a little to the west.

The storehouse.

He sprinted down the hall until he was close enough to hear better. He began moving with stealth again, his steps trailing the little noises he was hearing. His tail flicked anxiously as he stepped in one of the big rooms of the basement. Boxes of all sizes, sculptures wrapped in sheets covered in dust and even some paintings lying around. The sight almost made him sad, but he didn’t have time to linger on that. He kept his guard up as he stepped further into the room, being prepared for any surprise attack. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was a fancy chair that probably belonged in the court of Louis de 14th. Put in the middle of an empty space and illuminated strangely by some candles in the back. He immediately spun around, throwing his baton at the target behind him that triggered a noise just one second before. Only to see that there was nothing before him.

“What the… ” his curse had turned into a yowl as someone jumped into his back, managing to knock him off his feet.

A pair of soft lips brushed against his ear shell. “Hello, handsome.”

Chat struggled as she sized his hands behind his back, making it impossible for him to use them. With a grunt of annoyance, he rolled on is back, trying to get rid of her, but it only aggravated the situation as she copied his move. It ended up with a tumble on the floor, until Miss Fortune managed to tie his hands with the string of her yoyo. Chat growled as she forced him to sit in the chair and wrapped the string around his body, managing to tie him to the chair.

“You, know, I’m almost disappointed for how easy you fell for that, kitten.” she said with a pout while taking a bundle of rope off her belt. She took a few steps towards him, slow, almost teasingly. It wouldn’t be the first time when Chat felt like he was the mouse and she was the cat. “But I could forgive you if you meow for me a little.”

Adrien just glared at her, clenching his teeth. She always liked to play with him and he knew very well giving her a reaction would only make her satisfied with herself. And he was too stubborn for that. His lack of reaction seemed to only make her pout further.

“Well, then. If you aren’t in the mood of talking I’ll just get to action too. And when you think I even settled the romantic atmosphere with the candles.” with a dramatic sigh, she got on her knees in front of him.

He did his best to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks as he tried to kick her away. Miss Fortune grabbed his leg and pinned it back down with ease. Glancing up at him with a scolding look, she chided him. “Bad chaton!”

He huffed annoyed, before redirecting his attention to her, keeping a close eye for any chance to free himself. She looked away from his face, her gaze sliding over his torso and then to his crotch. And by the way her lips curled into a predatory smirk, Chat was sure he was in trouble. Humming amusedly, she settled her hands on his thighs before spreading his legs wide open.

“What are you doing?” to his ultimate embarrassment, that was very much a squeak.

“Oh, but please, tell me, kitten. What happens usually when you have someone kneeling between your spread legs?”

Chat really wanted to give a witty reply, but frankly, he was pretty brain dead when she was staring at him with those bedroom eyes. Why was he cursed with a weakness for blue eyes?

And as if that wasn’t enough, she began running her hands up and down his thighs, agonizingly slow. And the suit wasn’t doing anything to decrease the feeling. It only stopped the pain from big hits, but gentle touches? They felt as if there was nothing between them besides a very thin sheet of silk. Chat beat his lips as she rested her head on his left thigh, her fingers trailing closer and closer to his crotch.  He closed his eyes, trying to think about the most unpleasant things in the world, just not to get a boner. He could never forgive himself if he got a boner from her teasing in front of her.

(He got boners because of her before and he wouldn’t bother lying, but frankly, he was in private.)

She would never let him live it down. As if she didn’t wound his pride enough these years. That would be the last drop. He felt Miss Fortune shift and then, something being wrapped around his ankles. He opened his eyes only to find his ankles tied and Miss Fortune smirking up at him, some rope still in her hands.

“I liked you tied up.” he remarked casually before putting the rope over her shoulder and sitting in his lap.

Chat hissed. She was warm. And he had no doubt the way she was grinding on him, slowly was with a clear purpose in mind. Chat wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he have a normal enemy? One that found pleasure in kicking his ass, not in sexually frustrating him? No, apparently that was too much to ask for. When he accepted being a superhero he certainly didn’t expect almost six years of flirting, banter and sexual tension that just seemed to increase in the latest months.

Miss Fortune nuzzled his nose. That gesture was way too sweet for someone who looked like she was one step away from eating him alive while dry humping him. And there was so much he could do to stop his dick from going hard while someone was grinding on him and it felt very much like it was skin on skin. Miss Fortune seemed extremely happy with her results so far.

“Do you like this, kitten?” she whispered in his ear in a sultry voice as she increased her rhythm, her hot core moving faster against his boner.

Chat let out a moan, dropping his head against her shoulder. This was humiliating, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much when he felt so good. He will regret this later, he knew, but frankly, he had limits where he simply couldn’t resist anymore. Miss Fortune was running her hands all over his body and Chat realized a few seconds too late she was tying him the rope and retrieving her yoyo.

“I fucking hate you.” he growled through gritted teeth. For what, he wasn’t sure. For being a nightmare to Paris? For humiliating him like that? For the fact that he was actually enjoying it? For outwitting him?

There was a slight gasp and soon all the warmth was gone. He looked up to see Miss Fortune glaring at him.

“That was the wrong thing to say.” she hissed before getting something out of a box on the side. “Bad kitties get punished.”

The next thing he knew was that Miss Fortune was leaning towards him with a piece of duct tape in her hands. She pressed it against his lips, before a smirk appeared on her face. She tilted her head, pressing her lips against his through the duct tape before gluing it to his face.

“That was for the language. You should learn how to dirty talk, kitten. ” she straightened her back. “You were very rude, I liked you better when you were moaning. And because you said that, then I won’t make you cum anymore.”

Going to another box that was laying near, she picked two pieces of jewelry. The turned to him, raising them for him to see.

“They supposedly belonged to Madame de Pompadour. And given you are here, I want to ask you for an opinion. Which one do you think fits me better?”

She raised each pair to her ears. “The sapphire ones or the ruby ones?” Chat gave an annoyed growl making er giggle. “Oopsie, I forgot I duct taped you. Oh well, nod once for sapphire, nod twice for ruby.”

She looked throughout amused as he didn’t react anyhow. “Well, I guess you are right. I should take both.”

Chat glared at her as she put the two pairs of earrings in one of her belt satchels.

“See you next time, beau gosse.” she said with a smirk, blowing him a kiss.

And with that, she simply strutted out of the hall, leaving a very annoyed Chat Noir with an unsolved boner behind.

STAR TREK CHARACTER ASKS

Kirk: Has someone ever called you overdramatic?
Spock: Have you ever felt as if you didn’t quite fit in anywhere?
Bones: Do you have a nickname?
Uhura: Do you like to sing or dance?
Scotty: Favorite beverage (alcoholic or non-alcoholic)?
Sulu: Favorite flower?
Chekov: If you could visit any place in the world, where would you go?
Picard: Tea or coffee?
Riker: Do you have facial hair?
Data: What do you want more than anything else in life?
Crusher: What is something you’re really proud of?
LaForge: What is your dream job?
Troi: Are you good at picking up on what other people are thinking?
Yar: Have you ever lost someone close to you?
Worf: Are you a serious person or someone who likes to joke around a lot?
Sisko: What is an interest you have that most people don’t?
Kira: Are you a religious/spiritual person?
Dax: How old are you?
O’Brien: Do you want to have kids someday/do you already have kids?
Bashir: Are you an only child?
Odo: What does your name mean?
Quark: Have you ever been in trouble with the law?
Janeway: Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts, or neither?
Chakotay: Any tattoos/piercings?
Seven: Are you more of an introvert or an extrovert?
Paris: Do you believe people can truly change?
Tuvok: Have you ever made an unlikely friend?
The Doctor: If you had to choose a new name for yourself, what would it be?
Torres: Does it take a lot to make you angry?
Kim: Do you fall in love easily?
Neelix: Favorite food?
Kes: If you could have one super power, what would it be?
Archer: Dogs or cats?
T’Pol: What is something you regret?
Tucker: Favorite movie?
Sato: What foreign language would you want to learn?
Phlox: Favorite animal?
Mayweather: Where were you born?
Reed: What is your biggest fear? 

When Ariel traded her voice for legs, she never expected this much motion. She and Esmeralda ran through Paris, avoiding police and dancing for coins. At first, Ariel was uncertain on her feet, but she loved the feelings that surged up in her chest as she did. 

Although they always had chemistry while dancing, Ariel was unsure of Esmeralda’s feelings.  Much of the time, while dancing, Esmeralda would lead her into a dip and linger seconds longer than necessary. It could have been her imagination, but their faces were so close, and she could feel the woman’s breath hot on her face. 

reachann  asked:

Can you please do an in-depth description of the Sheith Fam House with screenshots and floorplan? Also, their villa in Japan cos you know that they would have one. Also, what cars would they own? Those rich ass bastards.

YOU ASKED. I WILL DELIVER. I’ve always said that Shiro and Keith’s house is big. Considering Shiro is one of the top neurosurgeons and Keith being a Best Selling Author, let’s say their annual income’s in the 7 digits each. So, their house kinda shows that too in a way.

What you see here is the back of the house because obviously, who even has a pool in front? LMAO I mean, maybe Shiro and Keith would but even they’re not that crazy. Also three floors because who needs two when clearly you can have three? This family can be frugal at times but there are times when they just don’t have any chill.

Let’s take a tour at the Shirogane Residence, so more under the cut.

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