pulse princess

anonymous asked:

i will yell at you even though both our doors are closed to shut up your class jesus christ au cause imagine Clarke getting pissy like that

The Sacking of Iona

Thank you for this prompt, I had a lot of fun with it!  This is vaguely based on one of the greatest days of my middle school career.

It was sixth period, aka Clarke’s last class and she was exhausted, as she always was by this point in the day.  Teaching biology to high schoolers who just wanted to stab each other with dissection tools and makes jokes about frog intestines was exhausting.

She was bringing up her slideshow about binary fission and asexual reproduction when she heard it.

The noise from across the hall.  From his classroom.  The noise that had been tormenting her all day.

Clarke took a deep breath to calm herself.  There were forty-five minutes left of this period and then school was finished.  She’d been dealing with it all day and she could do it for another forty-five minutes.  It was forty-five minutes.  That was nothing.  Right?

Right.

“Okay, guys,” she said, “does anyone know how bacteria reproduce?”

There was a particularly loud cheer from across the hall.

Clarke ground her teeth together and, ignoring the five raised hands from her class, crossed the front of the room to her closed door and looked out across the deserted hallway into Room 1215.  His room.

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indulge me

post-episode 3: Princess takes Ange’s treatment into her own hands.

(i started writing this on August 28th lmao)


It’s been some time since she’s seen so much blood, come to think of it.

She used to dance till she wore great red sores in the soles of her feet, until they got used to it and she stopped having to bandage before every ball. There were always the odd papercut incidents, too, and needle pricks when her attention drifted while embroidering. But she hasn’t even had the luxury of a skinned knee for years now. A princess’s body was meant to be admired, adorned, not active.

Which makes it quite the shock when Dorothy pulls up the car and she sees her own face covered in blood.

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Safe to Shore

Holding off on working on the next chapter of Acid on the Horizon until the weekend since it’s my first week of lessons at uni, so have some Allura introspection.


He’s a distraction she could do without.

Something about him calls to her. She is always finely tuned to his presence, like she can sense him in a way that goes beyond her normal perception. It takes all her willpower not to let her gaze slip over him appreciatively whenever he enters her field of vision. She should be more composed, more disconnected from any desires beyond Zarkon’s destruction. Her resolution should be steel, her inner strength unwavering.

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Watch on dolphelecat.tumblr.com

Princess Leia’s Theme | Violin Tribute

“ A tribute to the Princess of Alderaan, her beloved mother, and all the late Jedis of 2016 who have left an indelible mark on our lives. May the force be with them. “

The Mercy Struggle aka Why I Won’t be your Healer Anymore

Wow. People sure are salty in Overwatch competitive. No one respects or protects their healer and then have the audacity to throw blame around.

Pharah—very hard to get to you while you’re flying around, just saying.

Tracer—need I say more. I’m lucky if I get my beam on you once.

Reinhardt—you’re good, my man, you da mvp. Unless you give 0 fucks and don’t even turn your shield around when I’m being harassed by 50 tracers and a teleporting reaper and still expect me to boost you.

Reaper—yeah thx for peacing out and ghosting outta there while I’m healing your ass, leaving me to be high-nooned by Ol’ Man MacDonald.

McCree—Please turn around at least once if I’m locked on you and you hear loud gunshots behind. That usually means I’m in trouble.

Ana—fine with you girl, we heal each other, all’s fine.

Bastion—I don’t really have anything to say about you, i quite like boosting you. Teehee, shred these mofo’s. *Wild Tracer pulse bomb’s my Disney Princess Robot* OH MOTHERFUCKER SHIT FUCK OMG WHO CAN I FLY TO–

Winston—same as reaper thx for literally jumping out of there once im done with you.

Lucio—you’re perfect, unless you’re played by a dick behind the screen.

D.va—yeah whatever no problems with you

Zarya—If you’re going in hard, PUT YOUR FUCKING SHIELDS ON ME if you expect me to follow and boost you. Don’t bitch after if I die.

Symmetra—Where are you?

Widowmaker—Please keep spamming I need healing from a sniping position while hiding in a corner so even if I wanted to, I couldn’t fly to you.

Junkrat—u good. “Thx mate.” *tears of joy*

Genji—omg fuck you, you’re halfway across the map almost all the time

Hanzo—I can’t climb walls.

Soldier 76—usually no problem with you, my man, but yo don’t waste the healing field when I’m locked on you

Roadhog—how ‘bout you spam that I need healing some more. You have the means to heal by yourself, but also you’re down 10%, pretty sure you’ll live while I get to you.

Mei—I got you, I got you, I’m there, and there’s an ice wall that keeps me from reaching you. Yup. Awesome.

EVERYONE—Yes, please bitch about how I don’t resurrect you because I’m trying “to get player of the game.” Sometimes my ult just isn’t ready.

Le Carnaval

Prompt: These 1/2 beautiful pieces of work and Ashley’s birthday!

Word count: 1809

Rating: K

Read on FF.net

Read on AO3

This is for @piikopoko since it is her birthday today and I really wanted to write something that incorporated her designs into the story~! I hope you enjoy it!



Lights littered the streets of France, hung high and low in preparation for the annual carnival that was about to commence. An annual festival that made the city of Paris scream beauty. Ladies dressed in their finest gowns, and men in their favourite outfits. It was a night to be remembered, that many didn’t due to the fine alcohol that was served at stalls scattered around the Parisian streets.

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Squadre Next Gen: Part Thirteen

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII

A deep tenor’s chuckle echoed through Abraxi’s dream. Blackness and wings slid through her unconsciousness. Talons and black feathers reigned down in her mind, grasping it, caressing it. Abraxi was trapped and she was afraid.

—————

Despite her abilities coming back, Rajni was very good at shielding her emotions against her. That was what she enjoyed about the princess. She kept her emotions either well guarded or she would tell her exactly what she was feeling. Rajni may be a blade of intellectual prowess but she was also very passionate. Few others knew where to look at the princess to see her feelings. Where they saw sheer iciness, she saw raging infernos. She would gladly burn.

Marion slid the strap of her dress dress down her past her shoulder, the fabric slid fluidly down her hips, she let it fall to the ground. She hadnt worn any undergarments. The lines would have shown while wearing the dress.

Rajni looked at her hungrily,her aura sparked red and pink before disappearing again. She started taking of her own dress. Marion said roughly, “No. Let me.”

Rajni rose her chin, yielding herself to her. Marion slid the strap over her shoulder, kissing the vee of her neck. The red silk side down past Rajni’s curves, Landing in a pile of red silk. It would seem that the princess did the same as she, her skin was bare, no scrap of cloth obscuring her features.

She took in Rajni’s flawless skin. It was as pale as moonlight but it was as honed as a blade. She ran her fingers over Rajni’s breasts, delicious apples. Her nipples peaked when her thumb slid across them. The witch’s unearthly beauty was truly magnificent.

She kissed her. The taste of cherry blossoms coated her tongue, “No attachments,” she murmured into her lips.

Marion pushed Rajni back, landing on the crisp sheets of the bed. The blankets bunched down at the bottom of the bed.

Rajni looked up at her, “No feelings.”

Marion straddled Rajni’s waist, her hands pinned back over her head. She locked her mouth onto Rajni’s. Cherry blossoms enveloped all her senses.

Rajni’s hips roled, pushing her down further between her thighs. Marion’s breathing was heavy. Rajni’s own chest was rising and falling.

Marion got her hands underneath Rajni, Her tounge rolled against Rajni’s into a half bite, half kiss. Rajni’s own nails slid against Marion’s back. She weaved her fingers through Rajni’s moonwhite hair, unbound and silky.

Marion murmmered, “Yes. Yes.”

————-

Marion’s hand slid down, down down. The heal of her hand rubbed against her clit.

Rajni gasped, breathing heavily, “You are not what I expected.”

Marion looked down at her a wicked smile, “You were expecting soft kisses?”

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but I am pleasantly surprised.” she admitted. The witchling was…well versed in the bedroom. It made sense, really. Marion felt everyone’s emotions she would guess that hers were rather intense, especially sexually.

And Rajni wanted more. She ached to have her fingers deep inside, hitting every spot that made her tremble.

She dropped her shields, her emotions telling Marion exactly what she wanted from her. The witchlings dark eyes sparked in response, her fingers slid inside her.

————

Marion saw the shades of reds and pinks in Rajni’s aura swirl together. She kept her eyes on hers. She wanted to see Rajni go over the edge first.

She was knuckle deep inside the princess when she felt the pulsing. She crashed her lips down against Rajni’s nearly tasting blood.

The princess pulsed against her, a soft moan escaped her lips.

She could sense shades of black, fear and worry, coming from the door. Before whomever it was could enter, she slid blanket around Rajni.

The door opened.

———–

Rajni sat up, the blanket covering her chest and she tried covering Marion, who pulled a separate blanket over herself, she growled, “What the fuck do you want?

Ciel’s eyes were alert and his mouth set in a line, “It’s Abraxi.”

She looked at Marion, despite her face and ears being red she asked Ciel, “What’s wrong with the princess?”

“She won’t wake up.”