she has too many eyes and her legs just

Circumstance (Part 8)

Ok! They are finally meeting for real this time! This chapter is kinda weird because it’s long but everything in it takes place within like twenty minutes…

Anyway, tagging: @a-courtof-fangirls-and-fanfics @autumn03 @rhysandpurred@crazybookladythings @readinggiraffe @devilsadvocate15 @marimarac@carolineherr15@musiccbeach @illyrian-wingspans @illyrianinterrasen@meowsekai @iwishitwasrocketscience @gavrielthelionn @throne–of-sass @2-bookmaster-2 @bluephoenix222 (let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts!)

Fic Masterlist

“Princess Emberlei, it is an honor to meet you,” Cadewyn, future High Lord of the Night Court bows to Crown Princess Emberlei Whitethorn Galathynius of Terrasen and… it all clicks into place.

It’s not his eyes, though they are the exact same blue-violet she has been seeing in her dreams since she was five, nor is it his gorgeous face or his beautifully styled black hair. It isn’t his scent that is now fully intoxicating the princess as he stands in the same room with her, though Ember is starting to feel a bit lightheaded. Rather, it is his voice. The deep but still young sounding timbre that settles into her very bones that makes Ember realize the answer to the question she’s been wondering for two weeks.

Only now she realizes she has been searching for the answer since the first time she saw him, almost fifteen years ago. Cadewyn straightens from his bow, looking identical to his father with the slight smirk placed on his enticing pink lips. Ember nervously searches his eyes - violet eyes - for any sign of her own inner turmoil reflected there. She finds none. He doesn’t know. Or he’s very good at hiding his shock.

He’s her mate. Cadewyn is her mate.

Keep reading

recordsofme  asked:

sitting on someone' lap skimmons <3

5 times Jemma sat in Daisy’s lap and 1 time Daisy sat in Jemma’s lap


“This is ridiculous,” Daisy manages to say through chattering teeth.

Jemma agrees from where she’s shuddering, arms wrapped around herself hunched down on the floor pressed up against Daisy’s side, but she can’t steady herself enough to talk.

Jemma doesn’t know exactly how they got themselves in this situation. They went in after the bad guy and now they were locked inside of an empty industrial freezer. The rest of the team was probably busy with the bad guy and haven’t noticed that they are missing.

They haven’t missed their check in time yet.

After a few minutes, Jemma feels frozen solid and she knows that they have to share more body heat than they are at the moment.

She turns to Daisy and her hand shakes really badly as she grabs her arm to get her attention.

Daisy looks at her.

“We,” Jemma starts, but can’t seem to get the words out.

Daisy seems to be on the same wavelength as her because she just reaches out, and is barely shaking when she tugs Jemma closer, manhandling her into her lap.

Jemma wraps her legs around Daisy tightly.

Daisy folds her legs underneath Jemma, and wraps her arms around her waist.

Jemma wraps her arms around Daisy’s shoulders in turn and buries her head into Daisy’s neck pressing her cold lips against the skin there. Daisy tucks her head down on Jemma’s shoulders, and moves her hands slowly up and down Jemma’s back in an attempt to get her warmer.

Jemma tightens her hold around Daisy and shuts her eyes tightly, hoping that the team finds them soon.


Mack and Elena find them on top of each other, almost frozen together.

That night after they’re saved from the brink of hypothermia, Jemma still feels as though the chill is settled deep in her bones.

When Daisy slips into her bed not even ten minutes after lights out, Jemma doesn’t even say anything. She just wraps her arms around Daisy in return and finally feels warm enough to fall asleep.

Keep reading

so I’ve been watching the first season of snl, back when they were still figuring shit out - like, some bits are incredibly good, some are terrible, every episode has a long and boring Jim Henson muppet sketch - there’s some pointed political comedy and there’s some obvious political cop outs (plus ça change) - Richard Pryor is a host! Gil Scott Heron is a musical guest! there’s some interesting stuff re: the not ready for prime time players - chevy chase is clearly an asshole, gilda radner can convincingly play literally any age with just how she holds her mouth, garret morris has too many skills, john belushi is an exceptional actor and it’s a pity his role on this show is mostly remembered as samurai whatever - but like, you have to know that this is the most important thing: Young Dan Ackroyd is Beautiful. his long legs. his soft eyes. he has abs. my friends, Young Dan Ackroyd has abs. I’m reeling.

Ishida judges the Stern Ritter uniforms

As requested by anon. :)

Ishida probably has strong opinions about each of the Stern Ritter’s uniforms. Here’s what he might say about each of them!

1. Giselle

“Too many buttons, of course. Do you need six buttons, just to close one coat? I don’t think so! But I’m willing to let this pass because Giselle is a sadist. Of course she injures the eyes of those who look on her with her needless extra buttons.”

Ishida: It’s kinda cool that her bangs look like antennae, though.

2. Lille

“If I had arms and legs like that, I’d show them off too!”

Ishida: Although the hat is a bit….extreme. 

3. Nianzol

“No shoes and no collar? It’s like he left the house while still half-dressed.”

Ishida: This is why I always carry extra collars and extra shoes, myself!

4. Gremmy

“Gremmy can make his uniform look any way he wishes, and he chose THAT? A hood and a bunch of buttons?”

Ishida: Seriously, why is everyone in this army so into buttons??

5. Candice

“She ripped her coat. Ripped her coat! Why would she do that to her uniform? Doesn’t she have an extra coat?”

Ishida: At least she has a cool hat, though.

6. Mask de Masculine

“……I don’t have words.”

Ishida: But at least the mask distracts from the belt.

7. Meninas

“Not gonna lie, Meninas’s improvements on her uniform are true improvements! The ruffles, the bow, the belt - it all works together as a theme!”

Ishida: And i just - I have a soft spot for ruffles.

8. Gerard

“His pants are black. It’s like he doesn’t even want to be a Quincy.”

Ishida: He thinks his helmet will distract people from the pants. But he is wrong.

9. PePe

“His regular uniform is a bit….sloppy. But at least it isn’t a diaper.”

Ishida: I just don’t feel like sweatshirts or diapers have a place in the army.

10. BG9

“I’d be more excited about the armor if it weren’t for the giant codpiece.”

Ishida: Or whatever that large bulbous thing over his crotch is.

11. Cang Du

“Black gloves AND a black sash? What is he, a shinigami?”

Ishida: Also, I’ve just never seen the point of fingerless gloves.

12. Bazz-B

“I know Bazz-B is impetuous, but why crop your pants to show off your boots? Why don’t you just, I don’t know, tuck the pants INTO the boots?”

Ishida: He must look so silly when he takes his shoes off.

13. Liltotto

“She made patterned leggings herself. I support that.”

Ishida: Still too many damn buttons, though.

As Nodt


Ishida: But I guess he makes that spiky mask work for him. Not what I would have chosen, though.

15. Bambietta

“Fighting in a miniskirt must be hard. I love the hat, though.”

Ishida: Sure don’t approve of black stockings, though.

16. Askin

“Way too distracted by the Aizen-style hair lock to pay any attention to his uniform, tbh.”

Ishida: Which is exactly why hair is so important!

17. Ishida

“Sure, my uniform has a few too many buttons. But the cape is awesome. And I do look damn good in it.”

Ishida: Evil has a few perks.

Disrupted Date

@thetourguidebarbie asked for a drabble to counter my angsty Bad People Updates. Here it is. 

Caroline smiled to herself as she zipped up her white dress and viewed herself in the full length mirror.

She looked beautiful.

She looked like the successful Event Planner who’d just pulled off the ‘Wedding of the Year’ for New Orleans.

Well…until Klaus popped the question anyway.

Or maybe she would, and buy him a nice platinum ring with a diamond the exact shade of her eyes and her name engraved on the inside.

Just in case there was one or two idiots left out there who were confused about whom the gorgeous artist and gallery manager belonged to.

Of course it was a little while off yet, a year minimum for decencies sake but from the moment Caroline Forbes had laid eyes on the Brit she’d known that she wanted him.

And Caroline Forbes always got what she wanted.

There’s a knock at her apartment door and she bites her lower lip with excitement before checking to make sure her pale pink lipstick hadn’t smudged,

“Coming.” she calls, slipping into her shoes and giving her bedroom once last cursory glance.

It was spotless of course, which was good because tonight and most of tomorrow Klaus Mikaelson would be in her king size bed, utterly naked.

She opens the door and beams, “Hi.”

Klaus is wearing a white henley, grey vest and black jeans with that adorable array of necklaces and a ring on his finger that had caused Caroline a few mini-strokes before she confirmed that it wasn’t a wedding ring.

By far his best look is the admiration in his eyes,

“You look amazing, love.” he tells her with a slightly breathless voice, and she glances down with a blush,

“Don’t look so bad yourself.” she says as she closes her door and ‘accidentally’ pushes her hips out slightly as she pretends to test the lock, her bum brushing against his front.

“Ready?” she asks, looking over her shoulder just in time to catch his eyes shooting up from her long bare legs.

“Ready.” he confirms, although his tongue is wetting his lips.

The moment she realises that Klaus has no intention of taking her to Arnaud’s she wants to call them a taxi and take them right back to her apartment.

She was sick to death of Arnaud’s.

Nothing against the chefs or the food but Caroline Forbes had dated too many doctors, lawyers, political staffers and whatnots who thought they could impress her with lies about how they’d reserved a table that very day, calling up the manager himself and dropping their name.
They’d order oysters from the A La Carte menu and condescendingly tell her to enjoy, as if she couldn’t afford thirty dollars’ worth of oyster, then they’d trust the ambiance and their ability to pronounce Petit Fillet La Fitte to seal the deal and woo her right out of her panties.

After the fifth time she’d started ending dates after the cocktails.

Anyone who assumed an event planner who hosted her events in the Quarter didn’t know every last restaurant from the owner down to the kitchen hand who sold weed didn’t deserve to have dinner with her.

But Klaus takes her hand and leads her just outside of the Quarter to Frenchmen St, where a charmingly weathered two storey building stands next to a bustling night market.

The Spotted Cat Club.

“I thought we could have drinks in there and grab a bite to eat from the market,” he explains with a hint of nervousness in his eyes as they linger outside the bar, already filling up and blue lights dancing out into the approaching night, “Unless you’d rather a sit down meal? I know a great little place called Rousseau’s.”

She shakes her head, “I’ve never been here before,” she says and tugs him inside.

“Show me around.”  

The place is absolutely tiny but filled with laughter and unrestrained joy, fairy lights flickering everywhere and mismatching furniture with a bar that took cash only. There are people setting up on the stage and one of them waves at Klaus, shouting something lost in the din.

The bartender has two cocktails waiting before they even make it to the bar,

“There you are, you bastard,” he greets Klaus jovially, “Here, try these.”

Caroline takes a sip of the blue drink and hums in appreciation,
“Raspberry Vodka and blue curacao?”

The bartender grins, turning to Klaus “Oooh, I like this one,”

He leers at her, “It’s called Blue Balls, beautiful.”

Caroline laughs, while Klaus glowers, “Sod off mate.”

There are two wicker chairs with old cushions in the corner furthest away from the stage and they settle into them.

“So” Caroline reaches over and takes his left hand, running her thumb over the ring while her index finger trails up his palm, “Tell me about this?”

He smiles self-consciously as he glances down at the piece.

“My siblings and I were really close growing up and after my brother Elijah graduated high school, my younger sister was terrified that we’d all grow apart. So she threw an absolute tantrum to the point where the five of us went to a jeweller, except that they didn’t have five matching rings. So I drew up the design, Finn sourced the local stone, Kol chose the bands and Elijah chose the motto.”

Caroline’s heart melts even as she awards him another point on her mental scoreboard. Klaus clearly loved his family.

“What’s the motto?” she asked,

“Always and Forever,” he smirks and sips his drink, “And we lived by the code right up until two nights ago when Elijah came back from his business trip in Europe with his new wife, whom he’d known all of a week.”

She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand, “I’m sorry…a week? Well, at least you Mikaelson men know what you want.”

He joins in, “Still, I’m more traditional,” he teases, “I like to know someone for a month before I marry them and settle down.”

They talk until the band starts playing, listening to a few songs being sung by a handsome man who is also Klaus’ roommate Marcel. He comes over and flirts with her shamelessly, ribbing his friend until Klaus takes her hand and leads her outside.

Not to a taxi, which is unfortunate. Caroline really wanted to get him out of those pants but instead has to settle for sitting nice and close to him as they eat their dinner from the night market, a mismatch of food trucks and two stands selling everything from local cuisine to South Korean barbeque. Caroline peppering him with questions about his life and work while telling him her best stories and jokes that had sealed the deal for her in the past.

Certainly, she’s pretty sure that he’s picked up on the fact that tonight is going to end with both of them naked, because when they head back into the bar for another drink and the band’s next set, they find themselves leaning against the wall and Klaus slips an arm about her waist.

Which is sweet and all, but she reaches behind her, takes that hand, linking their fingers together and inching his hand down until he gets the hint and rests it on her bare thigh, his fingers pressing the smooth flesh there and stroking it, sending little sparks of pleasure right to her centre. She leans over and kisses his cheek, pausing to whisper in his ear,


He grins and nuzzles her temple, obeying her instruction and lifting his hand up her thigh, his fingers searching up and up until they encounter curls and she smirks with satisfaction as he realises that she isn’t wearing panties. He licks his lips and presses forward to kiss her, long, lingering and electrifying and she’s pressing her thighs together before they break for air and he clears his throat,

“Shall we get out of here, sweetheart?” he suggests and she grins,


It was two days later that Klaus finally managed to make it back to his apartment, only a mere three hours before Marcel was planning on calling the police. 

Which he still considers when his roommate staggers through the door with a neck covered in love bites, bags of exhaustion under his eyes and the same clothes he’d worn days ago, with a few tears here and there. 

“Ah…” Marcel watches as he tumbles onto the couch, “Should I get you anything? Coffee, tea, an IV drip?”

“All of the above,” Klaus groaned, “And then, get me Elijah on the phone, I’m pretty sure I’ve met the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, I just need to know how to propose asap without terrifying the poor sweetheart.” 

“Cool, cool,” Marcel pats his head, “But I’m going to make you wait until the blood flow has returned to your brain before making any life changing decisions.” 

Remember my vague half-formed ideas for a reincarnation AU? This is my vague, half-assed attempt at writing something artsy and highbrow and pretentious for it. It’s kind of boring but shhh, I’m trying to get back into my fanfic game and Nalu week was as good an excuse as any (this doesn’t fall under any prompts, though). 

…. I do have an actual idea for a reincarnation AU which is not a series of self-absorbed vignettes, but I worked hard on this so in the meantime please indulge me. The twelfth incarnation is my personal favourite. 

first incarnation

Their first incarnations are lost to the ether of time. Who is to say which version of themselves are the originals, the principal mold from which their myriad counterparts sprang? Pirate and officer, heiress and beggar, king and servant, assassin and target – there is no way of knowing, and indeed, there is little sense in attempting to determine it.

– suffice to say, then, that in their first incarnation also (like all others after them), they fall in love

second incarnation

Some being above has finally started keeping track, and their second incarnations are recorded as clean-cut and immutable as the wall between them. Pyramos and Thisbe, they called them, childhood friends separated by brick and mortar and a gaping chasm of family rivalry they failed to mend with their love. They are hasty in this incarnation, the both of them hot-blooded and hot-headed; and as such things go, their plan to run away in the night crumbles with a single misunderstanding. Pyramos dies, Thisbe follows, and the mulberry tree is fed richly with their intermingled blood. 

Keep reading

The really sad thing is that they’re probably not trees at all.

Whenever I see someone create a character that has stuff in common with one I have, I always get the urge to draw them together. And I just couldn’t resist giving carniscorner’s Eggyolk a whirl, because, come on! Her name’s Eggyolk, how cute is that?! Also she’s yellow! Just all around adorable, ah!

Like Korra, she has a color variation, although it doesn’t effect her as badly as it does my poor girl. She’s just bigger then most other Changelings.

Korra, on the otherhand, got really jipped by the gene pool. Her pink eyes are cute, but she has terrible vision, usually resulting in seeing double or even triple images. Her legs also have a bit too many holes in them which makes it a bit difficult for her to walk.
On top of all that, she’s a teenager. Yikes! 

st64rfox  asked:

I don't think the gems have COMPLETE control of their forms the way everyone imagines it. Yes, they can shape shift to any form temporarily, but at the end of the day they return to the appearance that was determined when they last reformed. But if you notice before any gem reforms (even centipeetle) a "mannequin" type silhouette can be seen, then details are added. I think the gems cannot control their humanoid shape. I think it is a part of them, and the modifications are just added.

The thing that I feel supports this theory the most is that when amethyst reforms with the giant arm and leg in “reformed,” garnet tells her that form isn’t sustainable. Why? Because it’s too different from her normal base form. What was stopping her from coming back with ALL muscular limbs, not just two odd ones? It’s because they can’t deviate from their natural body type too much. I think the exception is corrupt gem monsters, and that’s what makes them “corrupt" Sorry this was so long but the thing that sparked all of this was that I don’t think sapphire can control how many eyes she has. I think that, like the base body type and gem placement, eyes are something that can’t be changed on a gem’s form? But I could be wrong. It’s just my interpretation.

That’s entirely possible! And something I tend to think as well. It’s just for me easier to imagine the Gems holding a base form rather than them being 100% malleable regardless of their circumstance.


anonymous asked:

You're my favorite snowbarry writer!!! I know you're hella busy, but more domestic snowbarry when you get the chance please!!!

title | defend against all enemies [suggestions appreciated, not fond of this one\

notes | Aww, thank you anon, knowing how many great SB writers are out there, that means a lot :) Just a silly, short little domestic snippet for you, to cap off a day of writing. I hope you enjoy it!

“Barry! Help!” Caitlin’s voice shrieks from downstairs. Immediately alarmed by her words and her tone, he abandons the still running vacuum cleaner and flashes himself into the basement, where he finds his fiancé all but quaking as she points to a tiny shadow skittering across the concrete wall: a spider.

The urge to burst out laughing strikes him hard, because the idea of his brilliant, brave, infinitely stubborn and sure of herself Caitlin being terrified of a bug is absolutely ridiculous. He’s watched her stand up to murderous meta-humans without blinking an eye, has watched her sew up gaping wounds without hesitation, but here she is, cowering at the sight of eight legs on a tiny body.

Knowing that laughing will not help the situation in the least, he exhales instead and calmly tries to reason with her. “Caitlin, it’s just a spider,” he states in the same tone he might use with a victim at work.

She clearly makes the connection because her dark eyes flash at him, gaze narrowed. “With eight legs and who knows what kind of hidden agenda!” And yes, she realizes she’s being unreasonable but she’s dealt with one too many insect-wielding meta-humans over the years, she doesn’t need their minions hanging out near her clean laundry (one towel of which lies abandoned on the floor, a casualty of the initial spider sighting). Relenting, but smiling fondly, he moves forward to deal with the problem, only to be stopped with a “don’t kill it!” and he can only smile all the wider. Of course, Dr. Caitlin Snow’s appreciation for life extends to creepy, crawly arachnids hanging out in their house. “Take it outside?” She adds, to which Barry just nods and turns to dig an old cup from one of their stored boxes.

He carefully scoops up the offending creature and flashes back up the stairs. She hears the outside door squeak open and clatter shut and then Barry’s returning a few moments later with a rag and a dry cup, which he tucks back into the box he’d gotten it from. “Better?” He asks with a grin, moving to stand next to Caitlin by the dryer. Her eyes roll at the smug tone he uses, but she leans up to kiss his cheek nonetheless.

“No need to sound so proud of yourself.” He lets out the laugh he’d held in earlier, her prim tone igniting his amusement as he tugs her in for a proper kiss. They both melt into it, her earlier tension and teasing both gone with a content sigh, arms and tongues tangling languidly. They pull back a long moment later, Caitlin’s brow immediately furrowing as she notices something off. “Is that the vacuum cleaner running?”

I’m planning to do my final, long post 1x19 tomorrow now that I’ve rewatched the episode. I just didn’t have enough time left today with chores, cooking, etc and an early morning tomorrow because I have -nothing- planned for school in the morning.