she is growing on me more every day

Aquarius, who was pretty much in love with the world. She never really feared or had any uncertain doubts about the future, and it was always that attitude of her getting what she wanted, or die trying type. What ever you needed, she would. No questions asked. She was there at your every call. And yet, Aquarius didn’t hesitate to push me out of her life. The constant repitition of doing the same promises and telling her that I’ll change became an old tune to her that she had nothing else to do but lose it and throw profanities and leave. She deserves more than words. She needed actions.

Aries, who looked at the world with passion. Her favorite motto was: ‘Go big or get the fuck out’ Her emotions were huge defense in terms of protecting herself from unecessary vibes. She was also a strong and passionate love, and how she would always take the lead and make sure she has her way with you. And yet Aries cried to me, grabbing me by the throat, and gritted her teeth telling me how much I was the worst, how I was a big mistake. She said it as if it were poison, and I watched as she said it with strong hate only to find her later outside, holding herself and holding back tears.

Cancer, who loved to kiss her teeth when she was feeling some type of way. What I loved her the most was when she was feeling needy and she would come up from behind, all her hair would fall on my and she would kiss me the whole time. The laugh she does would echo through the room, and her emotions would flow out of her. She was like a child, she loved the attention. She craved our passion. And yet, Cancer threw a fit. Threw things at me and yelled at me. The pain in her voice, the laughter no longer heard. She left.

Capricorn, who loved the smell of cinnamon. The moment you stepped in her house, a cinnamon scented candle would greet you. She loved nothing more than to stay home after a long day and read nothing but books, I mean any philosophical ones. She would ask for my input about an idea, or a theory she would read. She scowls when I tell her “I don’t know..” and she’d tell me to open more and dive into her world. Explore every possibility and never question the outcome. To grow was her motto. And yet, I walked into an empty room. A letter by the table and there was a letter, written: Your beauty is transcendent, yes, but painfully abstract. - Plato.

Gemini, who loved the arts. If there was a performance in town she would pull me with her, drag me out of bed and bring her to the place. She loved movies the most, and she had collections of black and white movies, movies I have never heard of. Photography was her escape. A part of her room was covered of pictures of people, scenaries and things. She was amazing, but her personality was her flaw. She loved you today, and she wants to be free the next. But she always comes back, falling more and more each day.. and yet, as she grew to love me, she too grew to be distant. The time we spent were falling and finally she looked at me and said goodbye.

Leo, who was a perfectionist. She knew what she wanted and what she craved and her pride was her favorite thing. No meant nothing to her. Everybody knew her, and she was wild. She was free. She was fiesty. She was rough. She was life. And yet, because of her pride, she would not settle. She wanted more than just as it was, and I was not able to provide.

Libra, a long distance lover. Loved to call and text every chance she can to be with me, and it went on for months as we grew and loved one another. Her smile on our first video chat, and we slept for hours and we laughed when we woke. We talked about dreams, the future and the possibility of having a family and shared deep secrets, secrets untold. And yet, she picked up a video chat one day and she was with another. She frowned and stared at me. No words needed.

Pisces, loved the idea of love. She made our lives a beginning of a world of wonder and dreams. We were both stuck in lala land, and she showered and cared for our love like no other. And yet, as she loved and loved she slowly began to see the flaws and faults. The fighting and the arguements, non-stop anxiety and jealousy feelings came and she began to wonder if our love was more than a chapter than the whole book of love itself. And for that, she left.

Sagittarius, adored me so much that everything asked was given with no hesitation. She was never to quick to think it through, and she was eager to pull a plan through. And yet, she started to realize her worth. She knew what she was capable of and who she was, and admitted that she was lost before and found herself in the process of being with me. She thanked me for my purpose and we haven’t talked since.

Scorpio, who loved to be dominant. She meant every thing she says, and she expect me to keep myself in check. She wanted nothing more than just to be real and accept our flaws. To love it, respect it. She loved the fact that she was above me, and I succumbed to her. And yet, she later on confessed her true colors and she was not prepared to open up, and she needed time to explore more of herself in order for her to settle down.

Taurus, she was the kind of person that loved to create small things into adventures. Who loved taking trips to stores and various places that made her mind wander. I watched her grow and grow each time we’re together, that slowly she’s out of my reach. She was the epitome of a person that the universe gives you at a young age, and she blossoms into something you couldn’t handle yet.

Virgo, who valued love as much as I. The opposite of, and yet the same as me. She loved nothing more than to be loved, and loved we did. Her voice, her laugh, the moments we shared were the typical romantic scenes you see in movies. She would come home and slowly make her way to me, wrapping herself to me. And complain and talked about her day. She doesn’t even need to speak to me and it was a very strong connection we had that made us in sync with another. She was simple. She was the definition of love. She was mine. And yet, we slowly faded and stopped. The red thread disappeared and our time ended. She was gone. I became lost.

—  Beginning and End
You Won’t Cry Another Tear.

Request from anon: Could I request a Bucky x teen reader? On his time off from avenging he takes some time to help out at a local gym to teach self defense.. there he meets a young teenage girl who’s shy and nervous. He gets to know her and offers her private lessons to make her more comfortable… during a lesson she tells him about her bad home life and it’s why she wanted to learn to defend herself. He watches her family one night and sees how bad things are so he gets Tony’s help with adopting her from them.

Bucky Barnes x Teen!Reader

Words: 2,491

Warnings: Violence, physical abuse, injuries, threatening behaviour and swearing.

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their creators. <3

“Thrust the sole of your foot towards the attacker’s knee to incapacitate him or her, buying you enough time to run….” Bucky demonstrated what he was talking about with one of the older members of the group in the room, a 17 year-old male, before explaining exactly why it was effective. “It is a simple enough move that anyone can do but it gives you a higher rate of being able to get away because unlike the face and groin area the knee is nearly impossible to block….” A smirk tugged at his features as the male fell onto the mat beneath them. “….and people generally need a working set of legs to chase someone down.”

It had taken little over a year for Bucky to get to the point where he felt he could socialise properly in public. They knew who he had once been but they were also aware as to why he had done the things he had, no one feared him as much as they had done during his time as the Winter Soldier and eventually they even came to accept him as part of The Avengers. All of which worked well when he decided he needed to so something more productive with his free time…self-defence classes for vulnerable teens.

New York City seemed to be full of them and given the amount of trouble Steve always seemed to get himself into as a kid, starting fights he could never physically finish, he wanted to offer the one thing he never had done for his best friend (mainly because he always made sure that he was the one who finished the fights for him) and that was to teach them how to defend themselves. The moves he taught were not so that they could go out onto the streets and start fights, he made that perfectly clear from the start, but so they could avoid being hurt themselves or even being taken.

Keep reading

Tales of Miss Fortune(Part 6)

AKA, God is dead and we are getting almost nsfw. RIP Adrien’s dick. And congratulations to everybody who guessed who is getting drunk.

Sin warning! Well, sort of.

First | Next

Marinette tapped her chin thoughtfully as she stared at the six rococo paintings propped against the wall. Sticking her tongue out she began sketching fastly, trying to make the imagine in her head take a form on the paper. She had this rococo inspired collection in her mind for a while now, she just needed the time to gather the reference material. Or in this case, oil paintings. Marinette looked at the paintings again. That was the problem with inspired collections. You always had to be careful how much you take, how much you put from you and how well it can blend so it actually looks good. After about twenty minutes Marinette was moderately satisfied with the sketch. Taking a sip from her tea, she glanced at her kwami, Tikki who was sleeping soundly on the puffy pillow Marinette had made for her three years ago. The little god had not been very happy with the way Marinette decided to use one of the most powerful miraculouses. It began by trying to convince Marinette to change her ways. But if you knew Marinette Dupain-Cheng you knew she was a stubborn one, so that attempt failed. And when the little god saw it was in vain, she just gave Marinette the silent treatment for almost two years. It had been… awkward. And then the accident with her father happened and her mother decided to move back to China and it was just Marinette in an empty apartment studio. In the end, she and Tikki had to speak. It turned out better than expected. She wasn’t approving Marinette’s behavior but she was being more amused by it than annoyed nowadays. Shaking her head she returned her attention to her sketches, only to be interrupted by a message.

Odd. If Alya wanted to talk with hr they would Skype. Picking up her phone, Marinette opened the message. And had to read it two more times to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

I know this message could be interpreted as lacking properness, and you are under no circumstances forced to agree, but I am in a state that requires quite the distraction, but I’m not emotionally stable enough to get the respective distraction on my own. So this is my official invitation for you to share an alcoholic beverage with me. ω(=^・^=)ω 

Marinette covered her mouth and giggled. Oh, that awkward precious bean. Well, isn’t like she could refuse the offer of getting drunk with her sweet kitten. Marinette smirked. this was bound to be interesting.

It seemed like he was already drunk when she arrived, if his wobbly moves and foggy look were anything to go by. Adrien held the door open as he looked at Marinette, his eyes zeroing on her low v neck. He giggled.

“I can see your ladyboobies.” he burst into another fit of giggles.

Marinette raised one eyebrow: “I can take my shirt off so you can see them even better.”

As Adrien almost fell on his ass from the shock, Marinette strutted in, and took a seat in one of the armchairs before pouring herself a glass. That was some expensive wine, but isn’t like she should be surprised. Adrien joined her sitting in the armchair across from her and picking a bottle and beginning to gulp the wine down. Marinette let her gaze size him up, wondering just what got him into this state. She certainly hoped it was her. Adrien stared at his bottle as if it hid the answers to the deepest, darker secrets of the universe. With a dramatic sigh, he turned his eyes to her.

“I have to confess my sins.” Marinette was too taken aback to even answer to that. “I used to dress up as Sailor Moon for multiple years. I was the biggest Ouran High School Host Club fan out there, Tamaki was my role model. Once I ate a whole cake in one sitting cause my sweet tooth got out of control.”

Marinette wasn’t that surprised he was an anime fan. He probably liked memes too.

“I have a praise kink.”

“Oh!” Marinette sipped her wine and leaned forward, propping her chin in her hand, cause hell yeah, just hit the jackpot right here. He should have gotten drunk sooner. “Do tell me more.”

Adrien leaned against the back of the armchair and continued a rant. “And a bondage kink. That’s Miss Fortune fault. And I’m into pegging. And I really need to go to church these days or cleanse myself from all the sex dreams I have about her. And sometimes you. Oh, shit, forget I just said that. Anyway, I’m also into gags and pet play and… “

Marinette’s smirk was growing bigger with every kink Adrien was sharing. This night was way more fun than she could have ever imagined. And so informative. Oh, she will make good use of this newfound information. For noble purposes, of course.

“Marinette?” Adrien whined.


“Do you think Miss Fortune thinks I’m sexy?”

Oh, only if you knew, she thought.

Leaning back, she feigned indifference. “Well, she mentioned she is into blondes, so maybe.”

Adrien got the silliest grin in the world. It was so cute. Marinette bit her lip. She really had to keep from pouncing on him. “But what do you think? Do you think I am sexy?”

Oh, minou, you are far too entertaining, she smiled a little, glancing at her glass contemplatively. Now it was the time for her to play her cards right.

“You reminds me of Chat Noir, actually.” she pouted, her eyes sliding over Adrien. “And given I want to ride him so hard he won’t be able to work for a week, then yeah, I’d say yo are sexy.”

Adrien’s face turned red in seconds and he took another gulp of wine. “You think Chat Noir is sexy?” he must have realized he was being a little too obvious and added. “Funny, I think so too.”

Marinette crossed her legs, trying to hide her amusement at his failed attempts at subtility. “I’m sure you do. What about Miss Fortune, though?”

Adrien got a dreamy look. “Oh, she’s so gorgeous. Her blue eyes just wow, and when she smirks, it’s aaaaaaahhh, and when she teases me, it’s frustrating, but then mmmmmmmmmmm.” h actually moaned at that, before focusing his attention back on her. “ You kind of look like her, a little.” he sighed finally.

Marinette tapped her fingers against her glass, thinking carefully about her next move. She took another sip, finishing whatever was left in the glass and settled it on the table in front of her. Then, slowly, but surely, she got up and made her way towards him, slipping in his lap. “What if I tease you then?”

Adrien put his bottle down and laughed half-heartedly. “Nice try but I can only get hard when it’s Miss Fortune doing it with her yoyo.”

Marinette smirked. This night kept on giving. But back to the problem at hand. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered. “Is this a challenge, angel?”

Adrien seemed to snap back out of his utter drunkness for a moment. He grabbed her wrists gently and took off her arms off his shoulders. “No. You are very pretty, but I am loyal to Miss Fortune.”

Marinette kept from growling. Really now? Really? What must a girl do to get the dick she had been thirsting over for years?

Striking his hair slowly, Marinette decided to play along some more. “And if Miss Fortune was here?”

She could have sworn thee was drool in the corner of his mouth. “My dream threesome.”

Seeing Adrien hadn’t entirely pushed her off, Marinette decided to test something out. Moving slowly, she rolled her hips, grinding against him. Adrien’s eyes were still far away, but his body reacted, his hips pushing back just slightly. Biting her bottom lip, Marinette kept the slow moves. Until she felt something hard against her thigh. Adrien finally seemed to snap out of his threesome dream land.

“Ignore the boner. My dick is more drunk than me. It probably thinks you are Miss Fortune.”

Tilting her head, Marinette gave him a curious look. “Can’t we pretend?”

Honestly, this night was becoming more hilarious with every move. Her whole charade will start to wear thing if Adrien kept being so ‘loyal’. And her hormones weren’t exactly easy to ignore. She was a woman with a healthy sex appetite thank you very much.

“No, no. I’m not as easy to fool as my dick.”

Well, his dick had obvious something to say on the matter, cause it only became harder and started testing the resistance of his jeans and Marinette could feel it perfectly.

“Ignore him, he is rude.”

“Does he have a name?” Marinette asked, glancing quickly between them.

Adrien nodded solemnly. “His name is Adrien Junior.”

Marinette cooed mockingly, which he probably didn’t pick on. “How cute!’ running her fingers through his hair, Marinette assured him. "Don’t worry, Adrien Junior isn’t rude at all. I could even play with him a little.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Adrien wiggled his index finger in front of her eyes. “I said he only wants to play with Miss Fortune.”

Yeah, she knew how much Adrien Junior wanted to play with her. But Adrien Senior refused every damn time because of some morality bullshit. Marinette sighed. It was obviously she won’t get anything else out of him. If only she hadn’t left Tikki at home… wait.

Adrien gasped as she jumped off him and picked her purse, running out of the apartment.

“I forgot the oven on, I’ll be back soon!” she screamed over her shoulder.

Adrien frowned. That was odd, but hey, he didn’t want Marinette’s house to burn down. He raised his bottle, ready to take another sip only to discover the bottle was empty. Huffing, he went to the table, managing not to fall on his ass, and opened another expensive bottle of wine. the thing about expensive wine was that it was so good it got you drunk properly and that’s exactly what he needed to forget about the whole good kitten incident from that morning. After a couple of minutes, he was really getting too hot. Huh, alcohol was getting him hot. Interesting. He took off his shirt and pants, but kept his red boxers on. It was much better like that. He was contemplating the idea of calling it a night, when a figure stumbled through his balcony’s doors. And there was Miss Fortune in all her glory. Adrien almost dropped the bottle. Maybe she was a hallucination?

“Hey, hunk!” she waved at him.

Nope, she was certainly not a hallucination, hallucinations don’t talk. Or do they?

Well, Chat Noir isn’t here.“ she sighed dramatically. "How I wish he was here.” her eyes slid over to Adrien and she smirked. “Could you pretend to be my kitten for a while?”

Adrien’s brain wasn’t exactly working, so he could only gasp as his dick was screamed at him to accept. Miss Fortune strutted to him and sat on his lap. “Please? I really miss my kitten.”

Adrien squeaked. How could he refuse? “I can be your kitten. And anything else you want me to be.”

Miss Fortune began stroking his hair, the same way Marinette did earlier and just like then Adrien was trying his best not to purr. However, he couldn’t keep the whine in as she stopped her ministrations. However, Adrien’s eyes were about to pop out of his head as she reached for the back of her suit, making it come undone and letting the upper part slid off.

(Marinette knew she was inspired with the design and allowing it to be removable.)

She pouted, feigning shyness. “I always wanted my kitten to say they are his favourites.”

Adrien’s eyes slid to her exposed flesh and hardened nipples and he gulped. “They are my favourites! Your Ladyboobies are wonderful. I love them. I always wanted to hold them.”

Miss Fortune smiled. “Well, they are right here, a few centimeters away, so you have a chance.”

Adrien gasped in delight. Back in his teenage days, eh always wanted to hold her breasts. Not that now he didn’t want to, but he wanted to do other things some more. “Can I?”

Miss Fortune was really liking the starry look in his eyes. “Of course you can, kitten. But no claws, for now, my ladyboobies are a little bit too soft for that.”

Adrien reached for them and cupped her gently, enjoying the sensation of her skin against his palms. “They are warm.”

“Your hands are warm too, mon minou.” she purred. “I said no scratch, but you can squeeze them harder. I don’t mind a tight squeeze.”

Adrien did as she suggested, gripping the flesh tightly, enjoying the way they fit in his hands, before running his thumbs over her nipples. “I love them.”

Miss Fortune hummed, obviously satisfied with his presentation. Somewhere, his mind was screaming that he shouldn’t do things like that with a thief, but honestly, Adrien run out of fucks to give. And he was so drunk, this whole thing could be just one big hallucination. He was going to enjoy it as it lasted.

“Can I kiss them?” he asked suddenly.

“See for yourself, chaton. Can you?”

Licking his lips, Adrien lowered his head and began sucking on her left nipple while he kept massaging her right breast. His tongue teased her, before he moved his mouth, nipping at the sensitive skin above the nipple. As he kept his ministration, moving to the right breast as well, Miss Fortune moaned.

“Oh, minou, you really know how to use that tongue of yours.”

Adrien basked in the praise before a cat-like instinct took over him and he purred shortly. “They are mine. My ladyboobies.”

Miss Fortune giggled, before moaning again. Ah, this was wonderful. If only he would be sober. Tugging gently at his hair, she pulled him away from her boobs. Adrien whined, obviously not satisfied. He gasped as Miss Fortune picked him up and carried him bridal style to his bed.

“Cuddle time, pretty kitten.” she declared, settling him on the bed.

Adrien wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and hiding his face in her breasts. Miss Fortune was stroking his hair soothingly, as he purred against her bare chest. Honestly, this was paradise on earth. Why didn’t he accept her advances earlier? His poor dick had been right the whole time.

“I love your ladyboobies.” he muttered against her skin.

“But do you love me, minou?”

Adrien raised his head oh so slightly, glancing at her with those gorgeous green eyes. “This pussy loves you purry much.”

Miss Fortune kept petting him until he fell asleep soundly. She unwrapped his hands from around her, before getting out of the bed. She tucked him under the blankets and kissed his forehead.

“Sleep well, mon amour.”

What’s wrong with me? This isn’t the way things are supposed to go. I’m supposed to love you, but every day I feel the warmth you cause slipping away. I don’t get it, but the more I try to make sense of it, the worse things seem to get between you and I. It’s like my heart is evicting you, like you’ve overstayed your welcome and it wants nothing to do with you anymore. I wish I knew why.
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, Request: A lover whose heart is growing cold. She is very scared.
Scene, enter major disappointment, enter the name
my mother wanted to give me but my father had his mother,
had his love picked. This is only important because a house
is not a home just because the glass case stays on.

So, there is nothing sentimental about the doll house
except that it was beautiful, except that I imagined myself
two inches small. The worst thing a girl can be is tall,
is loud, is pregnant, is happy. The worst thing a girl
can be is loved. You raise a baby and you carve out
a daughter in your image, your eyes, your bad habits,
which means this story has happened before. A house
is not a home just because you store your boxes there.

So, there is no undoing ancestry in pop-tarts, or coffee,
or an ivy league education, except that these were
the puzzle pieces I had to shave myself, except that
I imagined myself Wonder Woman, saving the day.
The worst thing a girl can be is her mother’s nightmare.
I raise a baby and I give up my heroism, my closet,
my name. This story has happened to me and I am
not ready to see it reel back again. A legacy is not
a family just because people die.

Enter the wheel that keeps spinning, enter the cycle
of unplanned motherhood and burdened motherhood
and quiet paternity. Enter the sound of one person trying
to fall asleep. Enter someone with your face with my face
with her face. Enter a child.

When she tells you that she wants to be just like you,
you’ll call it a blessing, a gift. But the glass case doll house,
the shared pop-tarts, the other side of every duality.
But it’ll be years before you recognize the prophecy.

The worst thing a girl can be is herself. Enter me.
—  Yena Sharma Purmasir, “twenty five of thirty” (2017) / “Lorelai Says More Than Four Words” 

I looked at her and smiled. Her hair flowed in the wind and the sunrays casted a golden glow on her silhouette. She looked like an angel sent from Heaven, my angel. “I love you.” I whispered. 

She looked up and blushed. “I just don’t understand…” Her eyes were searching for an answer. “I don’t understand that you love me. I mean, look at me” She laughed. “I am not even that beautiful and you…”

“You look like you are a fashion model.” She grabbed my hands. “They say inner beauty matters, but from all the people who have met me, you are the one who knows that I am not even beautiful deep down. I can be so immature sometimes and you know that I am so awkward and I can appear so weak. So what I want to tell you is…” Her smile dropped. 

“I can understand it. I mean, I am okay with being by myself, I am okay with the fact that I am not beautiful and it’s okay, if you ever want to leave me.” She bit her lip and was struggling choosing the right words. “You can leave if you are thinking of someone else. I will never, ever hold you back from doing so. It’s just, I love you too. I love you so much. You look so beautiful in my eyes, and it’s not because of your looks. I mean, your looks are perfect.” I laughed and my heart skipped a beat looking at her one million dollar smile. She looked at me.

“But I am talking about the way you love me. I know you love me, so much. I know that you care about me and that you see me as someone so beautiful, but..”

“It’s just, I want to tell you, if you want to leave, don’t hold yourself back from your new happiness. Ok? But if you do, just know that I will never find someone again. You are my only one, and I love you so much. You are my world and even is that something that you might not understand, just know I don’t want anyone else in this world.“ 

I laughed and gave her a hug. She was so tiny, so fragile but I know that she fought battles greater than I can imagine. She is mine and I would never ever trade her for someone else in this world. I can imagine her being my wife, the mother of my children. She will never know how precious she is to me.

I know that she wants to be her own rolemodel, she want to be her own hero and I can understand how big her world is. She is not like any other person I know and I know that during this lifetime, she will always be full of surprises and I know, I will never grow tired of her. 

I vowed to myself, that after learning about her, she can be so stubborn that it drives me crazy. But damn, it makes me want to love her even more. She is so passionate to be strong by herself. She is so strong and yet so fragile. She is my world and my universe. It’s silly to think but I know this woman is my fate and she may never see how beautiful she is to me, that doesn’t stop me from admiring her every day. 

“Stupid.” I laughed. It’s all I can bring out.

—  a day with the love of my life

for surgery anon (a little something to cheer you up and hold you over till you get to that gdau update) :


Lexa has always suspected, of course, but she never knew for sure that breaking an arm would hurt like a bitch.

“But, hey,” her sister Anya told her on their way to the hospital, eyes wide with barely concealed fear, “at least you have your broken foot to distract you from your broken arm.”

Lexa would’ve loved to be able to kick her in that moment if she weren’t already duped up on painkillers. Because breaking your foot and your arm hurt like a motherfucker.

“Dad is going to kill us,” Anya said in lieu of a farewell when Lexa was wheeled away to have her injuries properly looked at. The doctor’s tag read ‘Dr. Griffin’, and Lexa blinked before lifting her eyes and gulping.

Clarke’s mother stared back, concern evident on her face. “Lexa? I hoped it wasn’t you.” She tugged her chair closer before sitting in front of Lexa and wincing as she took a look at her injured limb. “What happened?”

“I – I fell,” Lexa tells her. Suddenly, it seemed much less horrible and much more funny. “For your daughter,” she added, before letting her chuckles take over. Technically, that wasn’t wrong. She really did fall from a tree for Clarke. Well, for Clarke’s fat, ungrateful cat, but the only reason she volunteered to save the fluffy bastard was so she could strike a conversation with the girl.

(Okay, and maybe she also kinda liked the cat despite him being a giant pain in her ass. He had some redeeming qualities. And, well, he was a living being, and she couldn’t just leave him up there. Not when he was mewling so tragically.)

Abby Griffin’s blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “Of course my daughter had something to do with it.” She proceeded to inspect Lexa’s arm, tsking as she went. “I’m sorry to say this, honey, but I think you need a surgery.”

That put a temporary stop on Lexa’s painkiller-induced laughter. “I can’t have surgery,” she protested. “We’re up against Sky Rat– er, Rangers next week.” They had to knock those self-entitled kids down a peg. The fact that Clarke was good friends with most of them didn’t mean shit, how Anya put it.

They sucked at hockey anyway.

“Are you serious right now?” A new voice asked from the door, incredulous. “Lexa, you have two broken limbs.”

Lexa stubbornly lifted her chin. “So?”

(She quickly deflated, however, when she realized it was none other than Clarke Griffin herself glaring at her, dressed in pajamas and a jacket hastily thrown over them.)

“So?” Her tone rose in volume and disbelief. “Your arm is snapped in half!”

“Girls,” Abby interfered. “Not now. Clarke, you shouldn’t be here. Did Wells let you in again?”

“No,” Clarke easily lied. And Lexa knew she lied because there’s no other way she’d be able to sneak into the room, and Wells’ crush on her was public knowledge. She kind of felt sympathetic towards the guy. She knew what it was like to pine after Clarke Griffin, with no hope of ever gaining her affections.

“I’ll deal with that boy later,” Abby muttered to herself before rising to her feet and walking to her daughter. “Clarke, you need to leave.”

“But – mom, she’s here because of me!” Clarke protested, throwing Lexa a helpless glance. She could only shrug in response, and – ouch. Should not have done that. She cradled her arm to her chest, trying not to wince. It was hard, but she powered through. She managed to stoically pretend it didn’t hurt while Clarke ran around her in circles, alternating between calling the hospital and tearfully asking her if she was okay.

Which she wasn’t, but Clarke was too adorable when all panicked and flustered, and so she dutifully replied “yes but I still need an ambulance” every time.

“I know, and now I need to put her back together,” so that was where Clarke got her stubbornness from. Abby Griffin was firm and resolute. “You’ll see her tomorrow.”

“That’s way too long!”

“Clarke.” The drugs began to wear off, and so did the numbness in her legs and arms, which so wasn’t a good thing. She just wanted to be done with it. “It’s fine. Please go.” Upon seeing the look of genuine distress and hurt on the girl’s face, she tried to soften her words. “I’m gonna be fine, Clarke. I’ll – I’ll call you as soon as I wake up tomorrow, okay?”

Clarke still didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “Okay. I will hold you to that.” She glanced at her mom, and Lexa wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a very quiet ‘please take care of her’. Or not. Who knew. With the pain coming back in waves, she could’ve hallucinated it.

Abby sighed when her daughter finally left. “Okay, champ,” she said, tiredly but good-naturedly nonetheless. “Let’s get you ready.”


Raven was already waiting for Clarke in her car when she exited the hospital. “Well? Is she okay?” When blue eyes shot her a glare, she shrank into her seat. “Just asking,” she mumbled.

Clarke sighed, starting the engine. “She needs surgery. My mom’s going to perform it. And I’m never, ever listening to you again, you got it?”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know your damn cat would get so high up and Lexa would suck at climbing the trees?”

“Don’t – just, god, Raven, just don’t,” Clarke huffed, clutching at the wheel. “This was our dumbest idea yet. I’ll never forgive myself for it.” She glanced at her friend again. “Or you.”

“You didn’t have to go with it, you know,” Raven defended herself. “Not my fault you’re thirsting after Woods this hard.”

“I’m not – I’m not 'thirsting’! I just like her!”

“Sure. Tell that to the hundred of sketchbooks filled with her face.”

Clarke gritted her teeth. “It’s not a hundred,” she mumbled.

“Hey, at least you have an excuse to visit her every day now.”

“No,” Clarke said, her voice growing strong. “No more scheming and excuses. I’m gonna ask her out tomorrow, or we’ll accidentally put her in a coma next time.”

“Right. And we don’t want that.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “You’re going to help me pick flowers for her tomorrow.”

Raven nodded. “Sure, as long as we know which ones she’s not deadly allergic to.”

“Oh, she’s not allergic to flowers. Only chocolate.”

“Man, that must suck.”

“Not really, she eats super healthy so it doesn’t bother her.”

Raven squinted at Clarke who was peacefully watching the road. “You scare me sometimes.”

“Two years,” Clarke said, without taking her eyes off the road. “I’ve been pining after her for two years, Raven, I picked up on some things.”

“Tomorrow can’t come fast enough, Griffin.”

At Last

Characters: Scotty x Reader

Summary: Scotty has been pining for who knows how long, is he going to take advantage of this birthday celebration or just let another opportunity pass him by?

Word Count: 845 words

A/N: This little piece is especially for the lovely Alex @youre-on-a-starship) on her birthday.  I know you are in a Scotty hole right now so I hope this helps (or doesn’t).  Happy Birthday Sweetie. xx

Originally posted by iwishihadastarship

Montgomery Scott would be the first to say he didn’t do well with people.  It’s not that he wasn’t a likable guy, far from it, he just couldn’t work them out. Truth be told he was far more comfortable with machinery where a certain action would bring about an inevitable and predictable reaction.  People weren’t like that he mused as he sipped on his drink watching the merriment surrounding him, all the crew members there to celebrate your birthday. His eyes scanned the room and inevitably fell upon you and his heart constricted in his chest.  You were smiling, laughing at something someone had said and it was as if you were emitting more light and energy than any sun he could think of.  Ever since you had joined the crew he had been drawn to you, caught in your gravitational pull and he didn’t have the first clue what to do about it.  Your eyes met for a moment and he was lost in your smile, the soft one that he felt was reserved for him, the one that seemed to come from your cheeks and  made your eyes that little bit brighter.  He had never seen you smile at anyone else that way but maybe he was just letting his imagination get the better of him.  Raising his glass you nodded at him before your attention was stolen by McCoy and the moment between you broken.

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You will always be afraid. Afraid of her getting too close to you, afraid of her seeing the real you, afraid of disappointing her because you know the masterpiece you told her you’d paint, you never will. I hope that someday you can let somebody break down your walls and you don’t run away when they do.
You will always hold back the things you want to say the most. You will be afraid of the conversations that mean messy. But guess what? Messes can be picked up, friend. I hope that one day you learn to clean up the messes you make and you learn to fight for what you want, because she will sure as hell want you to fight for her when things are messy. I hope that you can talk to her about what’s really going on, so that she can fix it instead of staying up all night wondering why she isn’t good enough for you.
You will always use your body and mental health as an excuse to distance yourself from her. You might not mean to, but you do. But let me tell you something: one day, you will have to accept yourself. For one that talks up a storm about the importance of self love, why don’t you show yourself some? If she didn’t want to love you for who you are, she wouldn’t be with you. I hope that one day you can grow up and love yourself so much that it inspires you to love her forever, like she will imagine in her head.
You will always run away. But one day, when she comes along, you will know that she’s the one worth picking up the gun for. Tears ran down my face more than they should have when I realized that to you, I’m not worth the fight. But I’m worth someone else’s fight.
Someone else will pick up the gun and shoot every demon in our way to be able to be with me. Someone else won’t be afraid of something real.
My last hope for you is that when she does come along, something real, you won’t run away from her as fast as you can, like you did with me.
Feel like home [Sehun drabble]

Genre: Sehun Father!AU.
Type: Drabble/scenario
Characters: Sehun, his daughter. 
Do not re-post without permission, this is my work. 
This was requested by @starshinecat! I really hope you like it hun. Ara~

It was like someone grabbing my heart and crunching it. It was the worst sensation I ever encountered, it was like my worst nightmare coming to life. At the beginning everything stop, I dropped the keys and the mail just as I closed the front door; my blood froze, my brain stopped working for a second. Come on Sehun… move. It’s an emergency, move! I remember thinking. I remember how I ran upstairs to find the source of the noises that almost caused me a heart attack.

One of the most shocking experiences are the ones you never expect, of course. The ones where for a moment you forget who you are and what you are able to do and you just see the situation getting worse in front of your eyes. But as shocking as it might be, you have to react, you have to move, you have to think quickly.

I’ll never forget her face when I opened the door. How she was sitting back in the corner of her closer, her puffy eyes screaming for my help, her sobs piercing my heart. I’ll never forget the pain and fear that crossed her face, how she hugged her knees so tightly as if her life depended on that, how the tears sounded more like a storm than the actual storm outside. And then it came to me, the thunders. 

When you are a parent, the first thing you want for your child is a safe place, a place where they can be happy and live their dreams. But sadly even when they think we are almighty, we aren’t. I can’t describe what I would give to stop the thunders and help my little Oh girl, with her fear; but I can’t. I can only be there next to her, hold her in my arms and tell her it will be alright. Just like I did that nights and the nights that came after, until she finally overcame her fear.

You see my little one, thunders are not as scary as you think they are. They surely are loud and the light is something that catches us off guard. But as long as you stay in you’ll be okay. As long as you stay with you dad, my little girl will be safe. There’s nothing to fear… thunders are like a voice, they tell stories just like songs do, just like words. We might not understand it but it’s the way nature expresses itself, and it’s scary and magnificent because it makes us feel so small, but there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

I remember the first time I told her those words, how her confused eyes tried to make sense to my words. I wasn’t entirely sure she would understand but I knew that she would grow to do so, that one day she would look back and see the thunders as something more than just a loud noise. 

“You are the best dad, you know that right?” The smile on her lips was the most beautiful thing in the whole world. She gave meaning to my life.
“I am? How so?” I teased as I hugged her while the raindrops hit our window. 
“Do you remember how I used to be so scared of them?” She said, just as a thunder illuminated the room. I nodded.
“Well now it’s different for me dad. Every time it rains it reminds me of those times when you stood by my side, those times when rain and thunders weren’t so scary. I grew to love them, now they feel like home.”
“You are definitely your father’s daughter” I smiled with such pride in my eyes. 
“Well of course I am, why would you say that?”
“Because we Oh’s never give up, never let anything stop us. We greet our fears as if they were old friends. I’m proud of you my girl, I’m proud to be your father”

Something’s Wrong With My Daughter

Author: Eldautor

Source: Click here

My wife and children are asleep right now - I think, at least - so I finally have the chance to write all of this down. Things have been hectic around the house lately and if Clio knew I was writing all of this stuff down, she would honestly kill me. (No, I don’t actually think she would kill me. This isn’t that kind of post. My wife and I have a wonderful relationship.) She’s trying to keep all of this a secret, claiming that Layla is just “sick” and “going through a phase,” but the school is starting to realize that we’re hiding something from them. Things are starting to get pretty bad, so I decided that maybe you guys could help me out. NoSleep seems to be full of people pretty accustomed to this type of crazy stuff.

So, let me give you a bit of background. My name’s Atlas. I’m 32 and I married my wife, Clio, two years ago. The moment we discovered that gay marriage was legalized, we began planning our wedding. It was short, simple, and absolutely perfect. Married life has treated both of us well and I’ve never been more in love with someone. I don’t believe in soulmates, but I think she’s someone I was truly destined to be around. Maybe I’m contradicting myself. I don’t know. I’m not here to talk about Clio.

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anonymous asked:

Since requests are open, Ignis's s/o taking care of him by checking his eye wounds? I imagine that he'd had to keep the area clean and check up on it.

Guys. Guess what? I’m Ignis trash. Oh wait we already knew that. AHAHA. I couldn’t resist throwing my OC Kya Leonis in this story. I adore her and Iggy greatly. Spoilers, I guess for Mulier Militiae? Eh? I regret nothing though, I’m rather proud of this story. 

Please enjoy, my dears.

Tagging @themissimmortal, @stunninglyignis, and @nifwrites

Scars (Ignis x F!OC)

“Ignis?” Kya cocked her left eyebrow upward, watching as the blind man shifted uneasily in his seat across from her’s at the dinner table. Her icy eyes of blue averted to the plate that laid before him. His food remained relatively untouched. Several of his peas were pushed around, but nothing was bitten into.

Tonight he had concocted Prairie-Style Skewers. It was a simple meal that he hardly ever made unless Gladiolus came to visit.  It was delicious as it always was, but he didn’t dare touch the food on his plate.

“Are you alright?” Kya questioned skeptically.

“I’m fine,” Ignis nodded, tilting his head toward Kya’s voice.

“Why is it that I doubt that?” Kya retorted, in an almost teasing like manner. She placed her fork on the table beside her plate and pushed herself out of her cushioned seat.

“Because I often find you are too smart for me,” Ignis responded as if he had been defeated. The sound of her gentle foot steps against the hardwood floor made him sit up straight. Involuntarily, a nearly silent groan passed his soft lips.

Kya’s concern only grew at the sound of the whimper. As she made it to Ignis’s side, she studied him closely. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or am I going to have to figure it out myself?”

Ignis remained silent. His head remained to hang in a forward direction. He felt like he was burdening her… more so than usual.

Once Noctis was lured into the Crystal and placed into a slumber from within, his traveling group disbanded. Prompto had planned to travel to the Hunter HQ, while Gladiolus arranged to take refuge back at Cape Caem with Iris, and Kya already had her apartment set up in Lestallum.

Kya had insisted Ignis to come with her. She proposed that she would help him find a home that was “up to the Ignis code,” and in the meantime, he would stay in her apartment on the pullout bed located conveniently inside living room.

Without a word, Kya soon became Ignis’s caretaker… whether he liked it or not. He always assured he could do things on his own, but accepted her help regardless. Without her, he would fair just fine in learning how to adapt, but deep down he knew he needed her assistance. She made things easy for him. She made things a lot less stressful and tiresome for him. Not a day passed without Ignis’s endless speeches of the gratitude and thanks he harbored for Kya. To which she would always respond, “Stop thanking me, Specs.” He couldn’t see but he knew she smiled each and every time.

Eventually their relationship evolved into something more. They had always been friends… ever since they were children growing up in the Crowncity. Both Ignis and Kya harbored a strong attraction to each other, but never spoke out about it. The timing was never right. Kya had Gladio and Ignis had… his work. 

At last, however, the Six arrived their time to come.

Halting his search of a apartment locally, Ignis officially moved in with Kya and got rid of the pullout bed that was taking up space in the already tiny apartment.

She integrated him back into the kitchen. In return, he cooked each and every meal the couple devoured each and every day.

They were in love. Genuinely and madly in love.

Though, Ignis still felt as if his handicap was nothing more than a burden on their relationship.

“My… eyes have been bothering me as of late,” Ignis admitted hesitantly.

“How long is ‘as of late?’” Kya began her interrogation.

“Since this morning.”

Kya released a sigh and put a gentle hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “C’mon, Iggy. Let me take a look.”

Gingerly, Ignis pushed himself out of his chair and felt Kya’s calloused but tender hand intertwined her fingers with his. She tugged his gloved hand forward, leading him to what he assumed was the couch that laid only feet away from the dinner table.

Once they both seated beside one another Kya raised her hands to his face. Her fingers remained inches away from his skin when she spoke. “I’m going to take your glasses off now, alright?”

Ignis gave a quick and curt nod. 

She never did anything before warning him…

With cautious hands, Kya touched her fingers against his shaded glasses’ frames. Slowly, she began to drag them from his face. He winced at even the slightest of movement his glasses made. The deed and the pain was over in a matter seconds, but Ignis still braced himself for more.

Kya studied Ignis with a face as stoic as her father’s.

The outer edges of the scar plaguing his left side were left untouched… but the rest of the scar…

The skin around his scarred closed eyelid was red with inflammation. It looked irritated, puffy, and painful.

Kya looked to the one eye that remained open. The clouded gray color that replaced the emerald green that normally dwelled inside was still present. Just outside the iris of the eye, however, was a thin line of red.

“Will I live?” Ignis broke the painful silence with the urge to lighten to mood.

“You will live through this, but I might kill you,” Kya answered blankly. “Iggy, you gotta tell me about these things when they happen. You’rE close to having an infection. You’re lucky I found out when I did,” she began to lecture. She pushed herself up from the leather couch. “I’ll be back, don’t move.”

Ignis listened to the distinguished sound Kya’s footsteps travel into the back hall and into what he assumed was the bathroom. Surely enough, he heard the sounds of her rummaging through cabinets and knocking things over. “Dammit,” he heard her curse under her breath. The sound of her voice made the sides of his lips twitch into a smile.  

After several long moments, Kya returned to Ignis’s side. “I’m going to clean your scars,” she warned. “It might sting, but its for the best. Consider it your punishment,” she joked, gently tipping a bottle of rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball. “Ready?”

“As I will ever be,” Ignis responded cooly.

With a calm pace, Kya pressed the cotton ball to the closed eyelid of his scarred left eye.  He tensed at the quick sting, but soon relaxed. She ran the cotton throughly around his scar, making sure to cover all inflamed areas. Once she was finished, she place the cotton ball onto her lap and reached for a new one. “Close your other eye,” she instructed. Ignis complied obediently.  She repeated her process with the new cotton ball over his right eye. The scar stung, but not nearly as much as the other.

When Kya withdrew the cotton ball from his face, Ignis allowed his right eye to open once more.

“Keep it shut just a moment longer, Iggy.”

Again, he followed her orders.

Kya opened a jar of herbs grounded up into a cream she had brought back from the bathroom. “If this hurts, let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” Ignis agreed.

He felt the cold ointment of herbs touch his skin. He prepared for a sharp pain to rush through him, but received none. Instead, a cool, calming feeling washed over him.

“Are you okay?” Kya asked carefully.

“Just fine. I can assure you I’m not lying this time,” his lips twisted into a smile.

Once she completed her task at hand, she instructed Ignis to open his eyes once more. “All done.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

Kya grinned. “Stop thanking me, Specs,” she said right on cue.

Ignis hummed a chuckle before placing his hands on her cheek. Carefully, his fingers traced her skin to the nape of her neck, playing with the small curls of dark locks that fell down her back. He carefully lured her into a kiss.

“Never shall I stop thanking you, Kya,” he muttered against her lips, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m truly thankful for the Six allowing you into my life.”

staticonthesignal  asked:

Do you put ideological messages in your work? If so, do you worry that it might get in the way of a good story?

When a creator is a writer and not just the artist, you put your mind and your philosophies into the characters you create. Even if people don’t agree, the potential to have a conversation in a fictional narrative is potentially a way to expand your mind to something you would never have before. Some people’s ideologies may rub you the wrong way. That’s okay. You gave the book a shot before judging what they thought before actually knowing what they thought.  

What a great question! As a publisher, I believe that all stories start and end with your theme.  The theme of the story is what makes it cohesive, it’s what makes it relatable to your readers, and it’s what leaves the reader feeling satisfied.  Theme and message are synonymous and crucial to any great storytelling! The secret to making it feel organic and not “preachy” is to not confuse theme for exposition, which is when a character might say exactly what they are feeling or going through.  The best messages are expressed through a character’s actions and often through what is not said, but understood (also known as subtext).  Let me give a very recent example from the film, Hidden Figures.  In that film, Taraji P Henson is a NASA scientist working for Kevin Costner.  Every day, Henson has to run miles away from the office to use the colored bathroom.  Meanwhile, Costner grows more and more impatient with her because to him she is disappearing for hours without any explanation.  Until finally, one day, they are working against a very tight deadline and Henson disappears, and when she returns to the office, Costner publicly humiliates her in front of all the other scientists.  She finally has an emotional breakdown, opening up about all the suffering she has endured since coming to work for him.  As an audience member – I was bawling at this point in the film – for all the suffering she had experienced but not expressed up until this point.  Instead of responding through exposition, Costner’s character grabs an axe and storms off to the colored bathroom, with everyone, including Henson, right at his heels.  He then does the unimaginable and uses the axe to break the bathroom sign to make it clear that there will never be segregated bathrooms at NASA again.  In that action, he declares the theme of the film, never falling into some big preachy speech.  This – is brilliant writing.  Please always have a message in your story!

I actually think that there are ideological messages in all stories – although sometimes they may be there by accident! All stories are saying things about the world, whether they mean to or not, so I do think it’s really important to think about *what* they’re saying.

Fairy tales, in their compactness, are perfect for examining this. Red Riding Hood, for example, has early versions where she escapes alone or with the help of laundresses. Perrault choosing the version where she is consumed by the wolf is not just for plot reasons… his explicit “moral of the story” paragraph at the end makes clear that it’s an ideological choice. The Grimm’s addition of the huntsman’s rescue adjusts the ideology again. None of these changes involve a character giving didactic speeches – the ideology is baked through the whole tale, and is communicated in its events.

If you think about what happens in any book, and the way the writer (or narrator) talks about things, they are putting forward statements about the world. Characters do things, and are praised or criticised, punished or rewarded, by both other characters and the voice of the book itself. How their actions are treated by the book sends ideological messages.

In terms of getting in the way of a good story, I totally get the desire to avoid being preachy. No one enjoys a story where they’re bludgeoned with A Message and there’s no concern for the story itself.

I think usually when this happens, it’s because the author imagines that they’re putting what they want to say on top of a story, rather than in it. They’re thinking of it as clothing, rather than the skeleton that the whole thing is built on. They don’t trust their story to do its job. But I think where a writer trusts and values storytelling, there’s little risk of this.

Anyway, I’m way over word count because stories are wonderful (!), but if you’re interested, there are loads of great books on storytelling that address Themes – Brian McDonald’s ‘Invisible Ink’ is one of my favourites!

Most stories have an agenda they’re trying to push, whether it’s obvious or not. I will only do such a thing if it makes sense to the story and doesn’t come across as forced. Otherwise, I mainly write my stories for entertainment value and nothing more. Considering the climate of today’s social politics, it’s very easy for audiences to become distracted by ideologies even if the writers didn’t intend for a certain part of a story to be picked apart in such a way. Personally, I find it easier to approach my work with the mindset that people are going to experience a story in various ways and there’s only so much I can do to control that. I accept that fact and create primarily for myself because if I’m not happy with the work, then it will read in the work and the work will come across as flat and boring. I cannot create solely for other people. I have to make myself happy first.

If I have a daughter she will know all the things my mom never taught me like:

•To always walk with her head up, because mommys got her day in and day out.
•that I’ll forever be her best friend.
•that, that boy she cried over for days at 16, won’t mean anything when she finds true love.
•that growing up, actually fucking sucks but we can do it together.
•that school, the things her teachers and her peers say DONT define who she is.
•that every “flaw” she thinks she has just makes her more her and that’s absolutely perfect.
•that she doesn’t have to be 100 pounds to be happy.
•she will know to never let fear hold her back
•to never give up, ever.
•that she always deserves to smile and be happy, and I’ll help her accomplish that.
•that high school really sucks.
•that it’s okay not to have 100 friends
•but it’s also great if you do.
•stretch marks, cuts and scars don’t make her any less of a person
•nor does being depressed, suicidal ect.
•you’re perfect just how you are and there isn’t any need to change that.
And most importantly
•whenever she feels down ill always be here, always. 5 pm, 3 am, 16 years old 36 years old. She’s my girl.

If I have a son he will grow up to learn and practice these things.
•rape is not okay
•no her bra strap didn’t tell you to rape her, or how she dresses at all, no.
•it’s not fucking acceptable
•Vaginas don’t get “loose” you sound like an idiot
•don’t make fun of the gay kid
•if she says no, then no that’s it.
•treat her like a princess and she will do the same
•tell her you love her
•Stand up for your girlfriend, sister, any girl
•your pants do not sag
•dress to impress
•always use a condom
•it’s okay to cry/show emotion
•hold her hand and by her flowers
•if you like boys, like boys
•flaunt it
•hold his hand
•kiss him in front of those other guys
•if you rather Beyoncé over Kendrick Lamar sing er loud and proud
•you’re mommys boy
•I will always love you
•scar cuts and stretch marks don’t define you
•nor does the things others say about you
•if you wanna cut hair instead of build cars you do it baby
•how to throw a punch
Also, most Importantly
•mama loves you so so much anytime anyday

hushhush-you-brokensoul will be the best mom ever. This is all hers and I can’t wait 10-15 years when she has kids 💜💜🌸☺️😘 she’s a better parent now them most and she’s not even a parents yet.

One Year | A Gaston Story (Chapter Fifteen)

Originally posted by dyx

One Year | A Gaston Story

Gaston (Luke Evans) X OC

Summary: Gaston made all the wrong choices in life, and when a dramatic fall from the Beast’s castle leaves him wounded and near-death, he thinks it’s the end of his time. Suddenly, an old beggar woman appears at his side and heals him back to his normal self but gives him one year, and only one year, to find true love before his time on earth and the town’s memories of him come to an end.

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen

Tags: @harleyscheekheart ; @jordyhaley ; @gawston ; @araceli91103 ; @the7thsilence ; @blackxthexbeast ; @hobbithorse19 ; @epicfallenismine ; @imoyu-trashblog ; @naildiva87 ; @dracsgirl ; @girl-next-door-writes

The lively conversation and stories continued throughout the evening, especially when Charles returned to the backyard with Emilie at his side, whisky in hand. As darkness lingered over its final touch of land, the rising sun crept over the mountain tops and greeted the laughter bursting from the golden flower bed underneath. Charles, Emilie, Gaston, and Anne had successfully emptied the liquor cabinet of the cottage by the time sunrise piqued, and yet the stories continued from Gaston and Charles without a moment’s pause: memories of mischievous behavior in the Villeneuve schoolhouse, riveting tales of their time together in war, inside jokes with their dear friend, LeFou. Anne had lost count of the moments the group was brought to tears of laughter by the war veterans’ sense of humor and theatrical storytelling. Gaston and Charles were similar in many ways; They brought out the best in one another.

Gaston felt no need to embody the role of The Entertainer, It was simply effortless, as he hadn’t recalled these stories with Charles for quite some time. In disbelief, Anne and Emilie were speechless of these stories until, as the liquor flowed, they began adding their own sarcastic and humorous commentary. Most of the tales were too outrageous for Anne to believe, it was as if Gaston’s life was directly from the pages of a Shakespeare play, but what caught her attention was the genuine cheerfulness he currently exuded. For once, it was an evening Gaston did not stare into an oblivion and contemplate the curse, he had forgotten all about it.

However, as the group bid their farewells hours into the morning, Gaston shook Charles’s hand and realized they may never see one another again. Unexpectedly, the war hero embraced his friend, who patted Gaston on his sturdy back.

“Wonderful time,” Charles commented. “Please, stop by on your way back from Denmark. We’d be happy to welcome you for another evening.”

“Perhaps an evening with rest this time,” Emilie joked.

“Yes, we certainly will stop by again. Thanks, Emilie. Charles.” Gaston nodded in appreciation.

“It’s no bother at all. I haven’t laughed that much since we were kids.”

After Emilie and Charles had packed food for the two travelers, Gaston and Anne mounted his horse and set off, picking up speed immediately as the slight breeze aided their quickening pace. It was grueling for Gaston to leave yet another best friend with this sickening feeling of death and disappearance clinging to his mind. The burden was increasing every day, its weight now heavy on his shoulders, as he reassessed his decision to delay telling Anne about the curse. Perhaps if she was made aware of the spell, she would be more inclined to fall in love with him, but Gaston was guilty the moment that thought appeared. It wasn’t the way he hoped Anne would fall in love with him. It was as if he was giving her an ultimatum: Fall in love with me, or I die.

No, it’s crucial I wait, Gaston thought to himself as the cottage behind him vanished into the landscape of the shrinking mountains. With every day, he and Anne were growing closer, and that only made the inevitability of this particular conversation more apparent and more difficult. What if she told him she didn’t love him? What if she believed Gaston had received what he deserved? What if it was too late? Maybe the timing was never right. Maybe she did love him, but only saw a friendship with him when she planned a future after Denmark. Before Gaston even spoke of the curse to Anne, he needed to confirm that she at least wanted to remain with him. Time was running out, and Gaston needed to ask Anne if she imagined a life away from her mother: a life where these journeys together could continue forever, a life with him.

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nature never ceases to amaze me. she’s a lot more resilient than we give her credit for. my strawbs didn’t get watered while I was away over the holidays, and when I came back they were crispy and dry as crackers. so i tugged off the dead leaves and desperately drenched the parched earth with water, hoping but not believing i could salvage them. what do you know? within a few days, she’d popped some new green leaves and she’s now growing bigger and stronger every day. she doesn’t care that i didn’t water her. she grew back, and it made me think that nature will always grow back. whatever we’re doing to the earth, she’s going to be fine - long after humans’ time is up, and whatever damage we’ve done, she’ll grow back. and if she doesn’t, it only means she’ll grow back differently - in ways  we couldn’t even think of. we hold too much self-importance in this world and i think a lot of us forget that.

i think i wanna marry you (jane/kurt fanfic)

Summary: Three times Kurt asked Jane to marry him and one time he didn’t. A series of Jeller vignettes.

A/N: Some sweet moments for Jeller. This got pretty long and somehow got fluffier and fluffier as it went on, hopefully you won’t mind. Fountain scene in iii. loosely inspired by Sex and the City.


She could feel his eyes on her as she walked across the bullpen to the desk of one of the junior analysts. His eyes were always on her these days, he barely let her move two feet without an offer of assistance or word of caution.

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Flamakness SoMa Week 2017: Day 3- Clothes

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Masterpost

Flamedork | Mrsashketchum | Flamakness Collab Tag 

Perfect Fit - Nisekoi au

Thanks for the wait and sorry for the delay ♥ I couldn’t have done this au without the love and support from my friends and especially Kirste and Mak who have supported me endlessly through our collab. Please enjoy and check out the links! More to come.


A day doesn’t go by without a painful twinge of betrayal in Maka’s heart. Every morning and every night, she forced herself to remember her mother through the unlikely help of her ribbons. Yes… those ribbons that she ties in her hair, the same ones that were carefully organized and tucked within her vanity in accordance to color, exquisite material, and size. There was no telling how long she’d had her old and growing collection, but she swore that she could remember every moment that she received them as if it were yesterday. In fact, a pair did come in with the grocery ads and the bills that were dropped onto the kitchen counter; it was another cashmere set from an exclusive brand and quite possibly only a few had ever been made in the world.


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