I miss everything about you. I miss everything about us. I miss the way you would tackle me to the bed to cuddle me with your big arms wrapped around me. I miss the way you would hit a bong and blow the smoke in my face with that sexy smirk of yours. I miss the way you looked at me. I miss our hikes when it was just you and I smoking out of our to-go piece by the water. I miss how we could just lay in bed embrace each other and make out for an hour. Fuck I miss the way your lips felt against mine. I miss your touch. I miss when you would let me cram my way into the recliner with you because I couldn’t stand to be a seat away. I miss me packing you bowls so that you could chat with the boys while playing live on Xbox. I miss the feeling of being so in love with you that I was blind to everything on the outside world because in my eyes all I saw was you. You were my world. I miss the feeling of it being us against the world because that’s how we started and sadly that’s how we ended. The world, this life, it got the best of us and we started to turn on each other. I wish we didn’t let them win. I miss the way you called me yours. And I would feel insecure and ask you if that’s really how you felt because I really didn’t see what you saw in me and you would just look at me and sincerely say “baby, you are my rock you are my everything. It’s us against the world and don’t you forget it.” I miss how crazy we were. I miss how you accepted everything about me. I miss us. Fuck I fucking miss everything about us! I want us back! I want you and me, I want it all back. I don’t want to feel like I’m having a heart attack every time I get anonymous messages about your love for her. I don’t want my head to spin every time I think about how I lost you. I don’t want to sleep in your god damn sweater just to make up for your body not being able to keep me warm at night! I don’t want to go day by day with every damn thing reminding me of you. I don’t want to get a head ache when I contemplate between whether or not if I should move on or stay waiting…… I miss it when I didn’t have to question our love. I miss our love…

anythingtomakeyoustay  asked:

“hey asshole quit kicking the back of my seat it’s a 10 hour flight” au or “you rescued me from the creepy person that was hitting on me in the bar” au with Ivan/Alina (whichever one you're feeling)

Alina had sort of thought it was an agreed upon thing that, when you were flying cattle class, you at least asked before trying to crush the legs of the person behind you.

But Ivan is a special kind of asshole, and Alina’s relief at seeing he hadn’t been seated next to her pretty much evaporates the second she sees him settle into his chair. Sure enough, he gives her approximately two seconds of anticipation before the chair makes a low whine and slowly, inexorably, reclines.

“You’re a dick,” Alina hisses, kicking the back of his seat.

His stupid, smug face appears around the side of it, because that’s how much room he’s given himself. He’s all teeth and aviators, like they aren’t in a completely climate controlled environment.

As always, it’s impossible to tell if his expression is a smirk, or a threat. The urge to punch him is so strong and so sudden that Alina is almost helpless before it, except she really doesn’t want to deal with the indignity of being escorted off this flight.

So she kicks his seat again. He barely even twitches.

“They wouldn’t let the seats go this far back if they weren’t intended to be used that way, Starkov,” Ivan informs her, and turns back to his in-flight entertainment, which is on a tray because he’s at the front of the row and she hates him.

I like my job, Alina reminds herself. It has dental.

And smug assholes at every level, apparently. Because hey, tech start up. She deals with a new Ivan every day.

…Although none of them are within kicking range. Alina huffs back into her seat, tucks her legs up as best she can, and kicks again. This time she sees the top of his head shift slightly with the force of it, and a grin steals across her face.

The thing about Ivan is, he’s stubborn in the same way she is. When Morozova wants a problem solved, he shoves them in a room together and tells them to figure it out. Legally, he can’t exactly lock them in there, but unwillingness to back down and a reckless disregard for health and hygiene because of it have kept them in each other’s orbit until Shit Gets Fixed.

Which is a long way of saying that Alina fully intends to kick the back of Ivan’s seat until he moves the thing forward, and Ivan fully intends to leave his seat exactly where it is for the next ten hours.

It is. A long. Ten hours. Alina - and her toes - begin to regret her life choices about one hour in, but she’s committed by then. She takes deep satisfaction in the fact that she can basically hear Ivan grinding his teeth, and also in letting him think that she’s given up for a bit before slamming her feet into the seat again.

She might hobble off the plane, but he practically vibrates in irritation off of it, and that’s more than enough to make up for it. And when they make it through customs and into the taxi and all the way to the hotel before he takes her by the arm and pulls her off into some side-corridor, she lets him do it instead of trying to break his toes right back.

It’s not often she succeeds in getting under her skin.

“You are,” he growls, “the most obnoxious woman on this earth.”

“If the seats weren’t meant to be kicked, I wouldn’t be able to reach them with my legs,” she replies sweetly. If she bears her teeth a little at the same time, Alina doesn’t think anyone should blame her.

He will, though, that’s Ivan. Angry’s a good look on him, she has to admit that. It takes away the smugness of him, strips him down to his essence. Alina can relate to being that raw.

“What’s your room number?” she asks abruptly.

His mouth opens, and he’s close enough to her now that she can feel a stirring of breath. She tries really, really hard to keep her face straight, but her mouth is a traitor, the edges curling up.

He curses, backing right off, shoving a hand through his hair. And her laughter breaks free of her chest.

“You were going to tell me!” she crows.

“Shut up.”

She socks him in the shoulder, moving back towards the lobby. “Keep dreaming,” she says happily, leaving his fuming figure behind her.

If she considered the possibility of actually getting that room number off him for a little longer than a joke really required, no one else needs to know.

I hit “Answer Privately" without meaning to.


15 for Potionless

Presented without proofreading, so beware.

It was easy for Sunny to disappear into a corner.  He was not really supposed to be at these events, so everyone politely ignored his presence.  Dawn lacked the freedom to slip away so easily.  He scanned the crowd as best he could from this low angle, not sure what she had planned.  

“Meet me there. One-quarter hour,” she had murmured in his ear before flitting off to greet the guests, per her duty as a Princess of the Blood Royal.

Sunny sighed and ground his head against the wall.  Even if she managed to slip away, he could not predict what she had in mind.  She might want to fly to the Village and wander the empty streets. Dawn loved the closeness of the buildings, and the quiet when everyone else was asleep.  

Or maybe they would flee to the stream and watch the fireflies. They would recline on a lily pad. She would coo at the insects’ antics, and try to pet any that approached.

Now that the Dark Forest had been deemed safe, they might dare to explore near the border, her by air, him by branch, and find some new sight to entertain them.

It took longer than a quarter-hour (Sunny was not surprised) for Dawn to meander towards the area she directed him to wait.   She ducked a few paces away behind a column and beckoned him towards her.

“What are you up to?” he asked with a smirk.  

“Nothing… “ Dawn hummed, and nibbled at her bottom lip.

“Okay… then why are we hiding?”

Dawn’s eyes lit up, and she pressed her lips into a tight line, which told Sunny she had something quite improper in mind.

Sunny opened his arms and beckoned with all six fingers. “Lay it on me.”

One quick scan around the room and Dawn leaped at him, pressed him against the stone wall, and sealed her lips to his.

Sunny squeaked ungallantly.  They just… they did not do this at formal events. Or informal events. Or any time they were not completely alone.

But Dawn’s lips were sliding against his and her teeth nibbling and… Sunny ran his fingers through her moth-down hair and kissed her back.

Their tongues met and tangled, familiar by now in how to tease and please each other. He sucked on her lips and tongue, encouraged her to take what she wanted. She left his mouth bruised from her enthusiasm. She can chew my lips off and I wouldn’t stop her, Sunny thought feverishly.

All too soon she pulled away, flushed and gasping, with a smile far too bright for the stoic setting.

“You need to go,” she huffed in his ear.


“The Naiads… don’t like you here,” she confessed. “I just… didn’t want you to go without… saying… goodbye?”

The lip-chewing was back, but not so coquettish.

“I understand. Can I… see you later tonight?”

Her wings fluttered. “How late?”

Very late?”

Her smile returned, along with a devious glint in her sky blue eyes.

“Until later.”

magsnagadaunkyllyble  asked:

"Sometimes I think about tearin' yur 'ead off just ta see if oi can." Magsnaga took a sip of his drink and overlooked the beach from his reclined chair. "I mean. Of course oi kan. Oomie necks iz not so tough. Just curious o' 'ow much of ah fight it would be."

“Hmm,” Radcliffe said, thinking. His eyes were closed under his sunglasses and he had both hands behind his head. “I’d like to think two clever and intelligent commanders such as ourselves wouldn’t be so easily defeated.”

ok, the bad news is i still haven’t found my copy of pokemon x, there’s a half-dissected recliner smack dab in the middle of my room, i accidentally cut my knee in the process of dissecting said recliner in the search for said copy of pokémon x, and i do not have any first-aid equipment. there is no good news. i’m going to fred meyer now, to acquire first aid equipment. see you all soon



Character/Pairing: Cas x Reader
Location: the beach
Random word: popcorn

requested by: @geek-librarian

Time: 5 minutes

“So this is a vacation?” Cas said, reclining in the chair next to you, trying to get comfortable. So far he had only succeeded in feeling awkward in the beach chair. “Don’t you find it difficult not to worry about what’s happening with–”

“Cas…” you interrupted. You were leaned back in your chair with your sunglasses on, soaking in the warmth of the sun and enjoying the cool sand between your toes. “If you say anything related to Sam or Dean or the life I am going to have to find myself a new angel to listen to the waves with and take back to my hotel room,” you teased. You looked at him over the rim of your sunglasses.

He looked perplexed momentarily but he finally smiled. “You’re joking. That was a joke,” he said.

You smiled back at him before settling into your chair again. It didn’t last long though before something hit you in the side of the face. You swatted at it absently, thinking it was an insect, but when it happened again and again you sat bolt upright.

Cas was grinning at you from his chair, and that’s when you noticed the popcorn scattered on your lap and in the sand. “Really?!” you laughed, brushing it from yourself. “You’re wasting my snack!”

Cas only continued to smile at you, looking like a troublemaker. You wondered if he had been taking notes from Dean… “Wait for it,” he said.

“Wait for–AHHH!” you screamed as a gull swooped at your feet to pick up the scattered popcorn kernels. “CASTIEL!” you yelled at him as he grinned broadly at you. “You are dead–AHH!” You jumped up from your chair as more gulls arrived and began a feeding frenzy on the spilled food.

You snatched the bag away from the angel and dumped the whole thing over him before turning tail and running into the waves. Cas was soon grabbing your waist in the water and tossing you playfully.

“Now THIS is a vacation,” you said, smiling at him and the saltwater spray clinging to his eyelashes and cheeks.

Kiss the Girl

Note: This is kinda long. Also if you haven’t checked out Part 4 of Moments Gone just click here

“You gotta do it, man,” Zay said taking another bite of his sandwich. “You know you wanna.”

They were all in Farkle’s house playing video games but decided to take a food break. Lucas had thought it was the perfect time to bring up his current predicament.

“I do,” Lucas said rubbing his sweaty palms on his knees and reclined back in his seat. “I’ve been wanting to kiss her again ever since she kissed me. But I get so nervous, I sprint off every time she leans in.”

“You’re an idiot,” Farkle chirped from across the room, coming in with a tray of lemonade. “Take my genius advice, Freak Face, and just do it.”

“For someone who sometimes dresses like they sponsor Nike, you sure don’t take their advice.”

“Thanks, Zay,” Lucas grumbled sarcastically. “Hey, I don’t even wear Nike half as much anymore!”

“No you went back to those blue shirts,” Zay said. “You need to just set the mood, maybe that’ll help you to stop sweating like a pig. Ease all that tension inside you, y'know.”

“He’s right,” Farkle said squeezing in next to Lucas. “Maybe a romantic setting between you and Riley will help ease your nerves. I have a perfect idea!”

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anonymous asked:

Rucas, joshaya, Smarkle, Zay one shot: movie night

Hope this doesn’t suck too bad! x

The six high schoolers and Josh are over at Farkle’s for a movie night. After all he does have the best theatre room out of any of them, partly because he was the only one that had a theatre room but even so it was far superior.

The room is set up with surround sound and a huge projector screen and reclining chairs just like a fancy theatre. Riley sits with Lucas on one side of her and Maya on the other. Josh sits at the end of the row on the Maya’s other side. In the row behind them is Farkle, Isadora and Zay. 

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“If it makes you feel better, you can call me God” he expected you to startle and jump to defend yourself or scoff and laugh, however the shrug that came from you wasn’t expected as you remained reclined on the couch without a care in the world, your feet propped up on the coffee table, legs cross at the ankle. 
“Okay, God” you went about your business of staring at the tv as if everything were normal, changing the channel for the millionth time in an attempt to find something that caught your attention.
He was surprised by your casual nature, you treated him like you weren’t scared of him but it wasn’t feigned either. You seemed genuinely apathetic no matter what was going on, he liked that about you.
“I want you to come with me” his voice came from behind you, his hand landing on your shoulder, playing with the ends of your bright hair while waiting for a response. Tipping your head back, you looked up at him to find his smiling face looking down at you. 
“Not in a sexual way, I hope” he chuckled, giving you no definite answer. Rising to your feet, you shrugged and sighed, “Sure, I got nothing else to do” straightening your shirt with one hand, you ran your fingers through your hair with the other.
Glancing up to him, you watched the confusion swirl behind the blue eyes you’d come to associate with Castiel, however it wasn’t difficult for you to recognise them as Lucifer’s now, at least for the time being. “Let’s roll” with your nonchalant consent, he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. 
A cocky smirk painted on his face, you struggled to not show that you were mildly entertained him while he whisked you away to wherever he was taking you. You’d finally found something that captured your interest.

A Terracotta Figure of a Reclining Nymph, La Source after a model by Claude Michel Clodion

ca. 1800 France

The naked figure of a nymph with her head resting on her arm and her eyes closed, is reclining on drapery, and leaning against an overturned urn, which is issuing water. On marbleized wood base with a band of gilt beading. 


Height  33.00 cm  (12.99 inches)
Width   45.00 cm  (17.72 inches)
Depth  25.00 cm  (9.84 inches)


what’s your ideal chair? quiz (violin edition)

disclaimer: not a quiz about whether or not you prefer recliners or bar stools. sorry

1. do you have fun turning pages?

a. um … no

b. I mean, I don’t hate it but it’s not like a hobby of mine or anything

c. yes, because it means I get to take a break from playing

d. I don’t really care

2. what do you do before rehearsal starts?

a. tune, ask the conductor questions, confirm bowings with other people, etc

b. tune and practice my super flashy concerto, of course

c. eat a quick snack

d. I usually just tune and then sit there until rehearsal starts because I don’t want people to hear me play

3. do you bring a pencil with you to rehearsal?

a. pencils, pens, highlighters, crayons–everything I could possibly need

b. yeah

c. this is orchestra, not art class

d. usually

4. how often do you practice your instrument?

a. pretty much every day possible

b. often enough

c. never. I hate my instrument and myself

d. whenever I feel like it

5. how often do you look at the conductor during rehearsal?

a. every three seconds. it’s kind of creepy

b. whenever there’s an entrance, a section solo, or a part where the orchestra tends to get lost

c. I have enough trouble reading the notes

d. I try to every now and then

6. do you enjoy playing your instrument?

a. for the most part, yes

b. sure. why not.

c. no

d. as long as it’s not in front of other people I’m cool with it


If you got mostly A’s, your ideal chair is concertmaster. you come prepared to rehearsal and you’re very serious when you’re playing. good job

If you got mostly B’s, your ideal chair is third chair. third chair is great because you don’t have to turn pages, you’re very close to the concertmaster, but you don’t have the responsibilities that the concertmaster has. just please stop playing your concerto before rehearsal.

If you got mostly C’s, your ideal chair is last chair. you’re far away from the conductor and very close to the door. you can get away with doing some stuff. most of the time. 

If you got mostly D’s, your ideal chair is sixth chair. you’re in the middle of the section. sometimes you get mistaken as a second violin. no one in the audience can really see you. it’s like you’re hidden. you’re close enough to the conductor that you can see them, and the conductor probably won’t ever call you out and make you play something in front of everyone like they might the concertmaster. it’s great. 

First Dates

Summary: Touka has never been on a date and Kaneki thinks he’s found the perfect place.

Pairing: Kaneki/Touka

Word Count: 2,083

AO3 Link: Here

So I am sick today. Touken fluff seemed like the only remedy. 

Touka sipped her coffee, reclining back into the overstuffed sofa. It had been some weeks now since life had begun to take on some semblance of normality. The world was still reeling from the news of how far Ghouls had infiltrated everyday life. The news buzzed incessantly with up-dates and ‘expert’ opinions but she was thoroughly exhausted by all of it and had resolutely decided to ignore the outside world for the foreseeable future.

She looked out the window and sighed contentedly at the view. Maybe Tsukiyama wasn’t so bad after all. He had welcomed them all into one of his family’s safe houses. This one was on the coast, a few kilometres from a quaint mid-sized town.

She liked it here. It was peaceful and relaxing while they healed from their injuries, both physical and psychological. Ayato and Hinami had mostly recovered but if she was honest, she worried most about Kaneki. He had been terribly wounded and she initially feared he might not live, but as usual Kaneki proved tougher than they all assumed. But still… he seemed more himself, his old self… had he really escaped all his demons?

She was startled out of her reverie by the subject of it. Kaneki appeared surprised too, recovering quickly as he closed the door behind him.

“Good morning, Touka-chan.” He smiled sweetly at her.

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