she smiles

Essays in Existentialism: Comic Con

please write a famous!clexa, dating, but on dif shows at comic con au.Dif schedules. Then “FOUND MA GURL”

“I’m currently filming something not comic related in Georgia,” Clarke explained, smiling as the reporter began to ask even more. “But I can’t wait to get back to the sequel. It’s going to be bigger and just… I can promise it will be mighty. That’s the best word for it.”

She dazed in and out of words, the jet lag and schedule creeping up on her slowly. Her bones ached and she barely had time to put on new clothes on the way over from the airport, but she smiled and laughed and was only relieved when she saw her cast mates that she would see in a few months to start the sequel, but had been away from since the wrap. 

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Scars: Young!Remus x Reader



Warnings: Fluff Too Real

Send In Your Requests Here!

Originally posted by your-harry-potter-imagines

Y/N turns slightly, looking over her shoulder when Remus grumbles in his sleep and his arm unwinds from around her, he shifts slightly, now straight on his back rather than being the bigger spoon. She smiles  as she turns around completely, now on her side as she faces him, hands folded under her head, supporting her cheek.  She watches with candid admiration, the way his dark brown locks are tousled wildly across the pillow. The way his nose kept scrunching up as his head lulled to the side slightly, pressing against the pillow. She tilts her head, memorizing the way his eyes were shut, his long lashes spilling onto his cheeks. 

It was a day or two after the full moon, and although they had planned a dinner date for Hogsmeade, Y/N had suggested a nap instead. Remus had protested, saying how she deserved a night out and being much too humble to admit that he was tired and still aching from his transition. She had dragged him back to his dorm, telling the boys to leave them alone for a few.

 Remus had blushed, a slight smirk on his face as they had entered the room, “Love, come on, we don’t have to do this. I’m fine. You got that new dress and everything.” 

Y/N had shaken her head furiously, stepping out of her school shoes and loosening her tie,  faking a hideously huge yawn. “Remus, I’m so tired. We can go later too, love.” She had whined. 

Remus chuckles slightly, a thumb brushing across a newly acquired scar not so secretly on his inner arm. He knew she was faking it, positively adorably at that. 

“Pleaseee.” Y/N pleads, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his torso, gently. 

He sighs, burying his head into her hair and running his hand up and down her back. “Fine. But if I don’t get to see that dress, I’m going to be mad.”

And that’s how they had ended up here, Y/N, in one of his old flannels, staring at her boyfriend. He was so brave, so good to her. She tilt her head slightly, staring at him as he whines unconsciously, shifting so he isn’t lying directly on his shoulder. She sighs quietly, hating that he was in so much pain. Her y/e/c eyes fall upon a pink scar, new, on his cheek, slashing across his jawline. How had she not noticed it earlier? She tuts quietly, lifting a hand to reach over and brush her finger across it gently. She frowns,at the prickling feeling that’s replaced the usual smoothness of his skin. She glances at him for a moment, before leaning up on one elbow slightly and pressing a soft kiss to the scar. 

Remus’ brown eyes open, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he reaches a hand up and cups her cheek before she can turn away. “Hi there. Thought you wanted to nap.” He mumbles, voice still rough and sleepy. 

She smiles at him, looking up, “I did. Kind of got distracted though.” She whispers back. 

“Did you now?” He asks, grinning at her lazily as his thumb brushed back and forth against her cheek. 

“Mhm. It’s hard, you know, when there’s a handsome boy next to you.” She responds, reaching up to kiss his nose. He scrunches it, eyes pressed together and laughs slightly. 

“I’m not handsome.” He grumbles, pouting at her. She frowns at him, before sitting up and pulling away from him. 

“Hey!” He whines, reaching for her again.

 “Remus, you’re beautiful.” She mumbles, pushing his hip down as he tries to pull her into his chest. She scrambles quickly, straddling him as he huffs, careful not to actually sit on him. He looks up at her with curiosity, his hands flying up to hold her hips pulling her down completely, eyebrows furrowed together. “What’re you up too?” 

She frowns down at him, blinking, “Remus, you’re beautiful. You have to know that, alright?” He bites his lip, staring at her.

 She sighs, leaning down and pressing a finger into his chest, “Fine, you want to do things the hard way?” She lifts his shirt, squirming a little to expose his chest, cuts and bruises coloring it.

 “Y/N-” Remus begins, but she cuts him off with a shush, leaning down and pressing soft kisses to each bruise.

 Remus lets out a hearty sigh, not from pain, but like he’s relieved. Her finger brush over each scar, smiling lightly as his chest rises when her fingers press to his warm skin. 

“Sweetheart-” He begins, but is cut off when Y/N leans down and suddenly presses her lips to his, her y/h/c hair cascading down from behind her shoulders as she cups his cheeks and kisses him furiously. He’s shocked, at first, she’s never been so demanding, but his arms automatically wrap around her back, pulling her down closer. Her hands locked behind his hair, pulling him closer to her, as if he’ll disappear from under her as she slides her tongue across his bottom lip and easily gains entrance to his mouth. After a few more heated moments, he mumbles, against her lips,  “Love- c’mon We- need to breath.” 

She whines slightly, pulling away, forehead against hers. “W-what’s gotten into you, huh? What’s wrong?” He demands, staring up at her with concern.

 She closes her eyes, furiously. “Remus, nothing. I just- I wish you would see how special you are. I love you so much.” She mumbles quietly. He stares up at her in shock, eyes wide. They had been dating for quite some time now, be he still felt shy about his scars, and it bothered her. 

“T-these scars, Remus, they aren’t ugly or unattractive or hideous. Yes, I wish, you didn’t have them because it means you went through pain, but I love them. I reckon you think I’m mad, but I think they’re beautiful, Remus. It shows how strong you are. My strong boy.” Y/N rants, her breath rampant against his collarbone.

 Remus stiffens, just for a moment, before wrapping his arms tightly around her and flipping them over, her back hitting his creaky bed with a light thud. He looks down at her, one arm tight around her backside and one pressing to her cheek. He swallows, and speaks in a low voice, “Y-you really mean that, Y/N?” 

She looks at him, “Of course I do, Remus.” 

He doesn’t take a moment longer to press his lips to hers, but it’s not ravenous, it’s sweet, calm and gentle as if he wants time to slow down so this moment last forever. She sighs, one hand gripping onto his shoulder and pulling him closer, unconsciously. He lets out a hiss, leaning down closer to get away from the touch. “Sorry, sorry!” She whispers, pulling away. 

“No don’t, c'mere, c’mere don’t run away. Please.” He whines, pouting his lips at her. She giggles slightly, pressing a kiss to his jawline.

 “Let me take care of you, Remus.” She whines, her hand reaching back up to his shoulder and her fingers dipping under his shirt to press to his tender shoulder, lightly, of course. He sighs, kissing her temple. 

“But I want to cuddle you.”

 She snickers slightly, running her hand through his messy locks, “It’s not like I’m going anywhere, love.” He smiles at her, “Lay back for me.” 

He obliges, lying on his stomach, and she once again straddles his hips, pushing the fabric of his shirt up and kissing his shoulder slightly.

 “Re.. this one looks really bad.” She mumbles quietly, trailing her fingers softly over the purple bruise coloring his skin

. He grumbles into the pillow, “ Hurts.” She sighs, brushing her fingers a little tighter into the bruise. 

“Too hard?” She questions leaning down by his ear. “

 “S perfect, angel.” He mumbles, eyes closed and cheek pressed to the pillow. 

She sighs, pressing a kiss to the bruise and then one to his head before moving back down. She sits on his butt, and lets her hands wander the spanse of his back, trailing her index finger down his spine and back up again, bumping over the vertebrae. She press both her hands down, on opposite sides of his spine, pressing her knuckles in from time to time and she gives him a massage. Grunts of appreciation escape his mouth, and when she hits the spot just between his shoulder blades, he finally speaks, “Right there, love. Bit achy.” He admits through grit teeth.

 She moves up, sitting on his lower back now and kneads her knuckles into the spot, altering between her thumbs rubbing circles. He sighs, after a bit, before he reaches an arm back and pats her thigh, “ ‘m good, sweetheart. Hop off for me.” She does so, perching on her knees as he flops over, smiling at her. 

“How’d I get so lucky, huh?” He asks sweetly, reaching over and pulling her onto his lap as he sits up.

 “Mm. I think I should be asking you that.” She responds, as he nuzzles his head into her neck.

 “Let’s get some dinner, hm? Want to see that dress, on you and the floor.” He says, smirking against her skin as he kisses her neck.

 “Anything you want, my love.”

“James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell” (Lily’s letter to Sirius). 

This gif is so sweet and tender, reminds me so much of what Jily means to me. Just a little gesture trying to cheer him up when he’s not feeling fine. We all have this idea of James being fun and brave, but sometimes we forget that he also had his weakness and failures. I love that Lily is the one who inspires him to be strong, especially when he makes mistakes. She doesn’t ask him “Are you ok?” because she knows when he’s not. She says “We’ll be fine” instead and that’s enough. She always makes him smile and laugh when he’s having a hard time. And vice-versa. I just love James & Lily and this gif is beautiful.

I didn’t have too much time to draw this weekend but I’m always thinking about Jily. I miss writing about them so I decided to share some thoughts here :)

note: I don’t know where I’ve found this gif. it’s just here in my computer since 2014. I always look at it when I need inspiration.

The Librarian: I Got No Strings

The Librarian is a Cursed!Killian AU series taking place during the events of Season 1. It is not a traditional multi-chapter and I assume the reader has familiarity with the events of season 1. Installments WERE written out of order but for the next couple chapters I am going to go in chronological order. Chapters can still be read in any order.

This is Part 12 and takes place after Part 11 after episode 1.19 “The Return”

Special thanks to @j-philly-b for being an awesome beta. 

Installments Chronologically: Part 5 | Part 3 | Part 10 | Part 8 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 6 | Part 4 | Part 7 |Part 9 | Part 11

2.8k | T | | AO3

As he looked at her James felt happiness. Her green eyes flashed with mischief as she turned and smiled at him. She had done it a hundred times but this time he felt his chest expand and his throat constrict. He loved her. The realization crashed on him like a wave on rocks and he had to steady himself on the railing. He had thought himself incapable of caring again. Her smile fell as she sensed the shift in his mood; she stepped closer. The wind blew her long brown hair into her face and she pushed it back impatiently.


He didn’t speak but pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a hunger he didn’t try to contain. There was no hiding now. He loved her–his Milah. Slowly the ship and the woman in his arms dissolved and James’s eyes opened on his darkened bedroom.

His hand touched his lips. “Milah” he whispered into the stillness and the tattoo on his right arm seemed to pulse in reply. He clung to the memory, to the face of the woman that he loved. His dreams had never brought him anything but pain, anger, and loneliness; he had thought Captain Hook incapable of tender feelings but he had been wrong and now James felt love for this woman he had never met. The thought was followed by a wave of guilt.

He had closed his eyes with his mind full of Emma, her smile before she kissed him at the station, her telling him to forget about destiny, the soft touch of her lips. He had opened his eyes with his mind full of Milah, her laughter, the concern in her eyes, and the hungry slide of her lips. Two lives warred inside his head and they were impossible to reconcile.

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You Can Borrow Mine.

Another small instalment in my 100 ways series on AO3, it’s not a long something but I’m actually quite happy with it..

Dedicating this to @lilsherlockian1975 because apparently she’s had some stupid anons as well <3 feel better dear…

It is on AO3 here..

” You can borrow mine” said a mousy voice behind him, he turned to look at an equally mousy girl standing with one hand outstretched towards him, a pencil laying softly in the palm of her hand.

The girl gave him a gentle smile as he silently accepted the pencil, scribbling down on his paper with it as he had with his own before it had snapped.


“You can borrow mine” he recognised the voice from years ago, it was still mousy but somehow stronger as well.

She still had that gentle smile as she held out a book and he accepted it, just as he had the pencil all those years ago.

He returned to his studies in the school lab and shoved the brown eyed girl out of his mind.


“You can borrow mine” he was surprised to hear her voice, surprised that he recognised it after all those years passing, and after the several times in rehab where he had been so far gone he could barely remember his own name.

He turned, those deep brown eyes staring at him, a smile hidden in the corner.

This time her voice wasn’t all that mousy, but her smile was more shy than gentle if he were to put it into words.

He quickly deduced her, his mind now clear from drugs after his latest stint in rehab.

Lab coat – works here. No ring on her finger. Cheeks flushing – finds me attractive (can use this in the future.) Will be easy to manipulate.

“Sherlock Holmes, I’ll need a lung.”

He grabbed the pen from her hand and scribbled down a few words starting a new experiment he had thought up during the night.


“You can borrow mine.”

Those words had become a lifeline between the two of them, Molly offering her help, her hand, her life to him.

He heard the words in those few occasions that he slept during those two long years away.

Remembered her voice on each occasion, from mousy to strong.

Remembered her chocolate eyes with their hidden smile.

Remembered her actual smile, so gentle and soft mostly so when she smiled at him, it was his smile and he savoured it in those darkest days.


“You can borrow mine” this time he was the one who spoke the words so dear to him.

She turned around her mouth agape as she took in his form, his face, and his gentle smile.

Her brown eyes so familiar.

Her smile so radiant that his mind had not done it any justice.

Her body so warm and soft as she embraced him out of pure joy.

“You’re back.”

Her words were whispered into the nape of his neck, and he could do nothing but nod as he reached his arms around her, breathing in her scent.

She looked up at him, a tear falling slowly down her cheek but smile still firmly at place.

He kissed her, he had denied himself the warmth of her for too long but there was nothing stopping him now.

He had changed, and he knew now why he had always remembered her voice, her eyes, and her smile.

Sherlock Holmes loved her.

And just as Molly Hooper had given him her help, her hand, and her life, he would do it all back.


“His tall, firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must draw every body’s eyes; and, excepting her own partner, there was not one among the whole row of young men who could be compared with him. He moved a few steps nearer, and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner, with what natural grace, he must have danced, would he but take the trouble. Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him to smile; but in general he was looking grave. She wished he could love a ballroom better, and could like Frank Churchill better. He seemed often observing her. She must not flatter herself that he thought of her dancing, but if he were criticising her behaviour, she did not feel afraid.”

~Emma, Chapter 38

Bucky: Hardly Smushin’

this is like the continuation of hard breakups that you guys were clapping for. So yeah. To spoil, they’re still not back together, it’s just a fic of suffering etc

“My home has long since been abandoned…” Wanda tries, her voice weak and a shine in her eyes. You can feel the rush of memories, her old home town nearly abandoned.

Up ahead, you spotted a rabbit hop onto one of the fallen parts of a wall, a tuft of grass growing against it.

“Not completely abandoned.” You offer, gesturing to the little bun. She smiles softly, before staring hard into the sky. You hadn’t wanted to come here, hadn’t wanted her to go through this, but she’d demanded it.

“We lived in that building.” She points to a complex with a gigantic hole in the front of it. Glancing at her, you silently ask her permission and at her nod, float yourself up to her old floor. Looking back down, you can see Wanda buring her face into the crook of Natahas neck as the other girl rubs her back. Beside you, a crow caws from the wall edge and you flinch, shooing it and returning to the reason you’d come up here.

Your eyes take in the ruined kitchen and dining, rubble everywhere. Careful not to disturb anything, you pick your way into the hallway that awaits, the carpet dirt crusted and small plants brushing your ankles. Your fingers brush over the handle to Pietros old room, dust coating your hand as you turn it and try to push inside, the fattened carpet making it hard. Inside, your nose wrinkles, his bed mouldy and eaten away, mice staring at you in amazement from the middle of it. You stare at them for a moment before realising, you’re likely the first person they’ve ever seen. Ignoring them, you pick your way over to the desk, fingers picking up a water fattened notebook and flipping it open at random.

Wanda is the worst sister in the world, she ate all the Runeberg Torttu and didn’t tell Mama to make more. I hate her. I’m going to show her diary to Alex. Then she will feel bad.

The entry makes you smile and you tuck the book under your arm, grabbing the old Gameboy that sits beside it as well, ignoign its ruined condition. Tony can fix it.

Turning away, you shuffle your way back to the hallway and head for Wandas room next, seeing the diary instantly and tucking it with Pietros. Scanning the room, you head for her vanity, eyes drifting over the images that’re stuck around the edges of the thickly clouded mirror. You tuck the entirety of them inside her diary, exiting quickly.

You can see two more doors left in the hall, pciking from Wandas mind that one os the bathroom and the other her parents room. Part of you doesn’t want to disturb the room, a dark sadness permeating her memories of it, but you know what lies inside, and you need to get it.

Inhaling deeply, you push the door open slowly, the air thick inside. Without looking around too much, you drag the chest from under the bed and unclick the lid. The photo album sits on top, and your heart rate increases as you delicately lift it out of the undisturbed case. Gently, you close the box and slide it way, backing out as quickly as you can and shutting the door. You move toward the sunlight at the end of the hall as fast and carefully as you can, death cloaking you like a sickness.

When you reach the ground again, Wanda is only just parting from Natasha, who still whispers to her. You approach them slowly, holding the three books in your arms carefully before holding them out to her. She swallows hard at the sight, taking them with shaking hands and clutching them to her chest.

“Thank you.” She whispers and you shrug, despite the tears in your eyes.

“I didn’t want you to go in there, but you needed those.” You mumble, eyes drifting back to the ruin. She doesn’t need reminders of the life she lost, but she does need reminders of the people that loved her.

“We could never get back up and after Ultron there just wasn’t time…” She breathes, sniffling softly and you nod.

“Let’s go back.” Wanda announces, turning and striding away, Natasha and you left to follow in her wake.

“Welcome.” T’Challa manages, before you’re crashing into him and locking your arms around his neck, his hands catching your waist and hugging you tight. “I missed you too, Igolide.” He whispers in your ear and the fear that’d taken root in your chest loosens at the nickname.

“I missed you too, Kitty.” You murmur back before releasing him and letting the two girls greet him as well.

“I have missed you too Natasha, and missed you dearly, Wanda.” He smiles and Natasha rolls her eyes good naturedly, Wanda responding with a laughing grin and kiss to his cheek. “Despite the reasons for you all being here, I am glad.”

You smile at the group happily, letting him the lead you all to a set of rooms you’ll share, and saying he’ll let you settle in before returning for dinner. Before he leaves, he gives you a long look, one that you know his him reading you and you brighten your grin, hiding the pain as well as you can.

“We are going to have a long conversation after dinner.” He promises you then disappears, and your breath leaves with him. Avoiding him tonight has suddenly become priority number one.

You let T’Challa lazily waltz you around the room. You’d agreed with Natasha when she said that her and Wanda needed a night out, shooing them out the door of the suite and blocking Wandas mind from yours.

She needed the lightness, a mind without the dragging black hole you’d become, despite your smiles and bounding gait. You’d much rather everyone think you’re doing okay than the ache that still wouldn’t shake itself from your limbs three weeks after the fact.

“It came out of nowhere, the day before we’d gone for waffles and he’d shoved me into the waves and laughed at how soaked I’d gotten.” You sigh against T’Challas soft shirt, music flowing lazily through the speakers on the wall. He pushed you into a soft twirl and pulled you back in, guiding you through the slow waltz.

“Did he say anything?” He asks gently and your heart breaks for him, further than it’s already broken. No matter what he felt for you, his care was unconditional. Even this, asking you about your breakup had been genuine and you hate yourself for not loving him.

“He barely said much of anything other than that he didn’t want me.” You mumble, eyes burning and you squeeze them shut hard. Swallowing, you force yourself to continue. Only good things can come of saying it out loud. “Then a few days of grief later I stumbled on him whining to Steve about physically hurting me. So I abandoned the first thing that’d put me in good spirits since and barge in like an idiot and start a fight.”

T’Challa hums a disapproving noise and you chuckle darkly in agreement.

“He just kept throwing those cliché breakup lines at me, and I was getting so angry. I knew he couldn’t remember how to have a relationship so I’d eased him into that, but by God it’s not hard to have an amicable breakup.” You snarl, still moving your feet at the slow pace.

“You were the one to start the fight, Y/N, what did you want him to say?” T’Challa reasons gently and you grumble, but silently agree. There was nothing he could say.

“So I hit him.”

T’Challa reacts visibly, pulling back some and meeting your shamed eyes with a deeply disapproving expression. In that moment, you can see him as a father and another ache spears through you, even as a manic giggle bubbles to your lips. You might never see that.

“I know, I know.” You grumble and duck back into his arms and the music. “And he wouldn’t hit me back, he just… It was like he was leaning into a tornado, he acted like he deserved the pain and wanted it.” You shiver a little at the words, licking your lips to keep yourself together. “So when I couldn’t get a reaction, I forced one. Said I kissed Sam.”

“Who is Sam?” T’Challa asks and you snort, the sudden question pulling you back from the edge of sobbing.

“I was told he asked you if you like cats?”


“Bucky and he have a constant war going on, and I knew it’d tear him up. And it did, I thought he was going to murder Sam. I stopped him, but it ended up with me coming here to escape. I couldn’t have stayed there, it wasn’t working, I needed space.” You finish on a mumble and T’Challa presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head, sighing a long breath.

He pulls you to a stop, releasing you for a moment before his hands are on your cheeks and guiding you to meet his gaze.

“I’m glad you came here, and I know you’re hiding what you feel, I can see it. But you should know that in the time between you arriving and today, you’re doing better.” He says softly and tears trickle from your eyes to catch on his hands. “Wanda and Natasha love you, your team members love you and I love you. And we all know, as well as you do, that you’ll beat this. Because, as you said, he isn’t shit.”

A bright grin escapes you even as more tears escape and T’Challa smiles down at you, tucking you back into his chest as the song change. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Wanda and Natasha, staring at the firsts phone with wide smiles. Breaking from T’Challa, you gesture to them and the pair of you head over.

“You’re back early.” You smile, feeling more yourself than you have in ages. Wanda grins widely at you, affection filling her mind and yours at the sight of one another, and the lessening of the dark you’ve been battling.

“It’s three am, weirdo.” Natasha says and you frown deeply, snatching the phone away and peeking at the clock when the phone hidden in your bra vibrates.

“It actually is.” You marvel, handing her device back and fishing your own out of the top of your dress. Damn the lack of pockets on womens clothes.

Your brows draw low at the notification, letting you know Wanda had added to her Instagram. Your gaze darts up to her before you open it, eye widening as a video of you and T’Challa plays, your movements slow and curved toward one another while Passengers Let Her Go plays in the background. Watching the video, you’ve never wanted to let yourself fall into him so badly, to live that short clip for as long as it lasts.

You and he would never last, you know this.

Wandas words have you sighing softly and double tapping your phone before closing it down. She’s right. He’s not Bucky, and you’ll never love T’Challa as much as you love the Soldier.

Bucky stares at the post, almost afraid to click it. When he does, making sure the sound is on, he can’t look away.

It’s obviously you, and obviously T’Challa. Together. Embracing. Holding one another. Dancing slowly.

“What the f*ck?”

The music that drifts out of his mobile speakers makes his heart clench uncomfortably and he wants to turn it off but he can’t look away.

“What’s wron- Ah.” Steve says succinctly, already having seen the video obviously.

“You’ve seen this.” Bucky scowls, clutching the phone forcefully but carefully. You’d berated him intensely last time he’d broken his mobile and it was just automatic to be more careful now.

“I got a notification, Y/N set it up so I wouldn’t miss anyones posts.” Steve shrugs and Bucky’s lips twist. Obviously the pair were much better friends than he’d thought.

“Why would she post this? No one wants to see that.” Bucky scowls, finger sliding up the screen and back down to replay the video, glaring at it.

“I thought it was at a million or something now?” Steve says awkwardly, and Bucky glares at the amount of likes, which rests at quadruple the amount Steve mentioned.

Yaasss I love Solar Panther! Y/N and T’Challa are my otp. I’m so glad Solar Soldier is over!! Who are these people? What the f*ck?” Bucky storms, scrolling through the comments and Steve shuffles awkwardly.

“Steve.” Bucky growls and the Captain freezes. He found it. “I’m glad you look happy, Y/N, miss you.

“Now Buck.” Steve hums, his words ending there. What is he supposed to say? He had said that.

“Whatever, Rogers. This is stupid.” Bucky snarls, clicking the video to play again and dismissing his friend, who takes the exit and runs with it.

No one goes near him for the rest of the night, the sounds of Let Her Go by Passenger funneling under the crack of his door over and over.

a) the biscuits mentioned in Pietros diary entry are from Finland but i assume they’re in more countries than just Finland

b) igolide means gold in Xhosa so it’s like when Sam calls her goldie 

c) did you enjoy? i hope so

agentsokka  asked:

Anshu's like a precious ball of sunshine and I love her. Sorry fff I just wanted to tell you that. Not only is her personality hilarious and the absolute PERFECT blend of Dave n Karkat while still being her own troll, the way you draw her I guess is what really hooks me in? She's just SUPER cute and she literally makes me smile whenever I see her with her lil heart overalls and unruly hair. And yeah your designs are lovely and just keep being awesome dude B33

this makes me really happy, thanks for being so nice! im gonna keep drawing her because shes so good

Let’s start this day off right with one of the most heartwarming excerpts that I possibly can give you (from The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up). Haven’t you ever wondered what Peter’s happy thought would be?

And yet, he hesitated as he stared down at the pouch [of fairy dust]. “I can’t take this. You should be the one to go back to Neverland.”

“Oh no,” she said. “I’ve forgotten how to fly.”

“So have I.”

She smiled and took the pouch. “I’m told that it doesn’t take much. A bit of fairy dust and a happy thought.”

She tipped the pouch and poured the fairy dust onto his head. He wiped it from his eyes and threw her an exasperated glance. She smirked in return, putting the pouch back on the shelf. Next to an acorn button and a basket of thimbles.

Peter glanced from said basket to the boarded up window.

He cracked up, tears of joy flowing down his cheeks. He bent over and grabbed his stomach as he laughed and laughed and laughed some more. He thought about that bizarre night in London. He thought about Pan. He thought about Tinker Bell’s face when they had crashed into the palace. He thought about Pan. He thought about how they had returned to Neverland and had told stories around the fire. He thought about Pan.

The laughter stopped as something hard hit his head.

It took him a moment before he realized that the something was the ceiling. Ms. Darling smiled up at him. Peter’s entire body tingled as he held onto the happy thought.

Without warning, he threw back his head and let out a crow.

Random Doctor Who mumblings...

Okay so we all know 11 took his bow tie off and dropped it right before he regenerated in 12.

What if Clara kept that bow tie?

What if it’s in her pocket or tied around a belt loop where she can always touch it and look at it?

What if, from time to time, she takes it out while in the diner!TARDIS and smiles because she knows her clever boy is running and being a Doctor again? 

What if, right before she goes back to the Trap Street, she makes a final stop exactly one day after 11 lost Amy and Rory? 

And what if she had Lady Me give 11 that purple bow tie to complete his new outfit?

What if that’s why 12 swore he recognized Ashildr from somewhere in “The Girl Who Died”?

What if?

Highschool au-ish ramblings about meihem ヾ(*´∀`*)ノ

ok, but wouldn’t mei be like the nicest girl in school? She would help everyone with geometry and be really motivating (“I know u can do it, dear”) and give everyone tampons and hairties and take cupcakes to school and hey, there might be some dumbasses who laugh about her weight but all the girls love her and she loves them (yup, in my head mei’s queer just like basically everyone in the overwatch universe ╮(╯▽╰)╭) and there are also a few guys who think the tiny girl is rly pretty with her chocolate brown hair, intense dark eyes and that cute, warm smile plus she always smells super nice (vanilla) and wears the cutest clothes with flower patterns and pretty skirts. But she also is kind of a teachers pet (gym teacher zarya + mei are bffs!!) and seems to be a little uptight and is afraid of breaking the rules.
And then there’s this guy who is just rly annoying (u know exactly who I mean) and mei doesn’t like him bc her friends told her that he’s a bully (although he is actually nice af) and jamison doesn’t really talk with anyone but his even quieter friend from two classes above, who everyone calls roadie. Nevertheless he does seem to care about the girl that sits next to him in chemistry. He’s super lazy and homework is a big no no for him and it pisses mei of, bc she thinks he wastes everyones time. But the thing that makes her even angrier is the fact that that lazy shit is actually super smart and better in chemistry than her. He knows the periodic table by heart and tends to blow things up in lab but with time she grows awkwardly fond of her flirty lab partner (*˘︶˘*)