simply early

anonymous asked:

*Whispers* your headcanons are the most beautiful thing on this entire planet, besides u, of course.

aw thanks babe

  • pidge: “sleep is for the weak” shiro, who sleeps maybe five hours a night and is a god damn hypocrite: “what no go to bed”
  • humans and alteans look similar but their anatomies are different in little ways that trip everyone up
    • “you’re telling me humans have thousands of taste buds?” “you’re telling me alteans don’t? because oh my god that explains the goo”
    • “a ‘belly button’? why do you have a button on your-”
    • “now what the heck would you need two lungs for? just seems inefficient if you ask me”
    • both species are convinced the other one is the weirder one
  • lance: “keith, we’re friends, right? buddies? bros? amigos? ‘bromigos’, if you will-?” keith: “keep this up and we won’t be friends for much longer”
  • *allura voice* “a princess is never late, everyone else is simply early”
  • lance hums theme songs from movies while doing things
    • mission impossible if he’s sneaking around
    • pink panther if he’s going under cover
    • sometimes the star wars theme if he’s just chilling on the observation deck
  • coran spent a whole year perfecting the art of snapping with gloves on
  • lance, crying: “why are you smiling??” hunk: “it’s just that this is the first time i’ve seen you look ugly and it makes me kind of happy”

I haven’t shared a picture of my face in quite a while. Today I woke up & took this one. No masks, no smile pretending, no make up, a skin rash in my left cheek, my beautiful bushy eyebrows that I have chosen to accept and love exactly as they are, my unbrushed messy wild soft curly hair, my face… Just as it is. And the reason why I feel so deeply & truly to share this is simply because I want to remind every single one of us how beautiful we are. Exactly as we are. We are already perfect. A reminder that the beauty is not necessarily in the face… At all… But in the goodness & love of your heart. How kind you are to yourself & others & the earth. How you smile from your heart. How you share beauty with all those around you. How honest & clear you are. How strongly & softly you move through life. Are you lifting others up with each action & word or putting them down? It’s so easy to forget how beautiful we are when we live in a city or are constantly surrounded by the obsession about the physical looks… Fashion magazines, television, social media craziness… As if we don’t have anything else to offer beyond our body. May we all rise above all of this. May we see the beauty within. May we always be kind. May we always be strong. May we always be soft. May we be the difference we wish to see in the world. Even if that means to simply take a early morning selfie of yourself just as you are & happily sharing it with the world… Self love is the very first romance. 🌸💓🌸

ambuck  asked:

Hi Cassie, with mundane medicine being forbidden in the Shadowhunter world I'm wondering what would happen to those with rare genetic diseases. My daughter has one called cystinosis and requires a lot of medicine to keep her healthy. Would a genetic disorder be something that the Silent Brothers could heal? Or would her family need to become mundane so she could live? Are Shadowhunters even susceptible to genetic disorders? Thank you for your time :)

They would be treated by the Silent Brothers. The Silent Brothers and their magic are actually really useful — there are some areas that we’ve seen in which Silent Brothers are not the optimum option for treatment. Anything the Shadowhunters don’t believe exists, for starters! But in terms of sicknesses of the body, there are a lot that Silent Brothers can simply cure early in life. There are disadvantages to being a Shadowhunter, but also advantages, and access to the magic and medicine of Silent Brothers and warlocks is one of them. If Shadowhunters didn’t die so often in battle, they would likely have longer lifespans than mundanes.

“You’re late, chat noir!”
“Im-pawsible, m’lady! I’m not late, everyone else is simply early~”

⭐️Carnival AU aka chat trying to play it cool while ladybug does neat-o trapeze tricks :)⭐️
help me I’m stuck in ml hell

yumi-chanwriter  asked:

I'm not quite sure if you can help me because my question is not about hand-to-hand-combat but warfare. Do you know how a medieval-like army would act if their enemies are hiding in the mountains? They Do not have to win immeadiately but they should be able to fight them.

In very basic terms, your characters have two choices: Wait them out, or go in and try to hunt them down. Which option is better will depend on a lot of factors.

Moving military forces into mountains is rarely an ideal option. Even under the best of circumstances, you’re looking at difficult to navigate environment that can turn lethal with little to no warning. In some cases, it can actually prove impossible to move forces through because the geography doesn’t allow passage. This also means sending out scouts and trying to find navigable paths, which slows progress.

Getting above the snow line means dealing with harsh conditions that your forces may not be prepared to deal with, and depending on the mountains in question, that may be necessary for traversal.

If you’re dealing with forces native to the mountains, then sending forces in will be very costly. They’ll be in familiar terrain, have a better grasp of where the natural chokepoints are, have a mobility advantage (because they’ll actually know where the possible paths and trails are), and have time to cover their retreat with traps.

If your forces are familiar with the mountains, and the opposing forces aren’t, then you can herd them into dead ends, and move through the territory far faster. If there are friendly mountain settlements, they may help your forces know where their foes have gone.

Of course, the inverse makes this harder. If there are mountain settlements who are hostile (openly or otherwise) to your forces, that will (usually) make life easier for the foes they’re pursuing. This settlements could function as an ad hoc picket, or they could actively support the attackers, while harassing or attacking your forces.

Combat in mountainous terrain is a mess, and heavily favors the side that can best exploit the terrain. In a situation where one side knows the environment better, they’ll be in a far better position to operationalize that. If they’re being pursued, they will know when, and were, to stop and fight, for maximum effect. Let’s take this out of abstraction, for a moment, and talk about exactly how this works.

If you have a sheer cliff face, and the only way up are via goat trails or some canyons that cut into the side. This will create a natural choke point. You can position a (comparatively) small contingent of melee forces to block the path, and then let your archers open up on the assaulting force.

If you have uneven terrain, you may be able to post archers overlooking any other potential combat site, while the enemy cannot get to them without trekking out of their way for miles.

Narrow mountain passes allow you to (nearly) negate the difference in force size. Mass melee combat is not decided by the side who brings more forces to the battle, it’s decided by the side who can put more soldiers directly into combat. In narrow spaces, where only three or four soldiers can stand abreast, the rest of their forces are basically irrelevant. Put another way, you can’t overwhelm your foes with sheer numbers, if those numbers are restricted to picking their nose, and waiting in line for their turn to fight.

The other option is to wait them out. Stay in the lowlands, where your forces can operate effectively. Fortify potential targets for their future raids (such as towns and villages). You will probably, also, want to send scouts into the mountains to track their movement, and gather information about the size and location of their forces. As they become more familiar with the terrain, it’s also possible they could engage in some limited sabotage and harassment.

Depending on how serious the threat is, and the available resources, it may also be time to fortify the region. In the lowlands, that means constructing watchtowers. In the mountains that may mean constructing fortifications along paths that your scouts identify, to protect your forces from potential choke points (like the ones I mentioned above).

At this point, you have two approaches. First is to simply maintain the early warning network, gradually reinforce the defenses, and wipe them out when (or if) they come. The second is to carefully map out the region, identify their means of getting around, and gradually boxing them in, either with standing forces, with fortifications, or with some combination of both.

I suppose another option would be to charge in and get wiped out. That’s, probably, not quite the kind of story you were going for, but it is an entirely plausible outcome, particularly if the lowland forces commander is overconfident or too aggressive. So, that option is on the table. If the fighting has to happen immediately, then that is the most likely outcome.


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captainemwinchester  asked:

Congratulations Prompt : 9, 11. Sam and Dean's middle sister

Thank you! And sorry this took such a long time, I just really had to think about what to write, I think I re-wrote it four times or something 😁  Ended up being a pre-series AU with John, Dean and Sammy, and beware, this is angsty.

Originally posted by lost-shoe

Lately, you had been having a down-period. One where the dark thoughts took more place than the happy ones. One where you just kind of got tired and angry with everything. When it came to your family, you were tired of your dad focusing only on hunting, you were tired of Dean blindly following his orders and tired of Sam always provoking John and therefore making things worse. You were tired of getting hurt and seeing them getting hurt. You were tired of doing the same things over and over and over again. When it came to your education you just wanted to graduate high school and be out, because you never made any friends and you were just so tired of people. You just couldn’t bother to care anymore, and you got more and more negligent when it came to keeping your family’s secret. For example your brothers asked you if you shouldn’t cover the black eye you receive during a fight with a vetala, but you just shook your head. They’ll judge me anyway.’

Now, the breaking point came during the latest hunt; the ultimate let down. You were supposed to be bait for a werewolf, luring it out and anger it to the point that it attacked, and that’s when John, Sam and Dean were supposed to step in. Only they didn’t. You were left on your own for way longer than you were supposed to, running for dear life, lungs burning, heart hammering to the point that you thought it’d stop beating completely. As you ran, you tried looking for your family, just hoping that they would show up with their rifles loaded with silver at the ready. The werewolf caught up to you before they did, and soon its claws were embedded in your side and you let out a panicked scream. That’s when Sam came running, in the distance a ‘wait Sam!’ could be heard, and then a gunshot rung out, and the werewolf was finally dead. Although, you couldn’t decide if Sam - not to speak of John and Dean - had come to your rescue too late, or simply too early. You didn’t spend too much time contemplating it right there and then because you then blacked out.

When you came to it again, you were lying on one of the motel beds in your room. It was still dark out, so you estimated that you’d only been out of a couple of ours tops - and it was a good sign, although, you almost wished you could lose consciousness again, because being around your family was the last thing you wanted.

“I’m… we’re, sorry so sorry-” Dean began, but you instantly cut him off, cursing at him and telling him to ‘shut up.’ 

“Sorry doesn’t change what you did.”

Your dad instantly interfered, telling you to lay it off. “Don’t speak to your brother like that. It was me who told them to wait. We needed to be sure that we could hit ‘em, you know how rare these types of bullets are.”

“So, what, you sacrificed me? Your daughter, your sister?” You angrily glared at them and cursed at the tears forming in your eyes. “Screw all of you.”

Dean looked like he was about to cry. John was about to tell you off, again, but Sam stopped him, telling him that you should rest, which he actually listened to. So you tried to sleep but wasn’t all that successful. Soon, Sam crawled onto the bed as well - you shared because there wasn’t enough beds in the small motel room.

“Don’t go too hard on Dean, Y/N. He only followed Dad’s orders.” He reasoned, although kept his voice gentle.

“That’s the problem.” You responded. It got quiet for a moment, and you didn’t even know if Sam was still awake over there in the darkness when you spoke up again. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Me neither,” came your little brother’s response.

and we meet again.

Originally posted by mvssmedia


genre: royal!au, romance, implied smut

word count: 2.8k

I believed that I had a led quite a normal life, you know, besides being a ‘princess’ but that was besides the point. My parents had hidden me from the spotlight; they saw how my brother suffered and didn’t want me to have to experience the same thing. People would throw themselves at him, left, right and centre; it looked ever so uncomfortable, he never leaves his home now, too scared to make a move and one move could be the end of his image.

I on the other hand lived as normally as possible, of course, once every now and then I had to dress up and act like the role I was assigned at birth but most days I was just me, a uni student, nothing special and I liked it that way. It was comfortable and safe.

“Hey, ___. Jimin’s throwing a party tomorrow, wanna come?” Hazel asked me as she threw off her unnecessarily big coat. “Yeah, I’ll come, if you don’t appear with that thing.” “What’s wrong with it?” she asked me, disbelief in her eyes, as if I had just killed her whole family. “It’s the middle of summer and you look like you’re ready to hibernate. Wear something a little less warm tomorrow, will you?” I joked as I hung the big coat up. “I will, I just wanted to feel fancy and royal on campus, you know like you on the weekend.” “Dude, I’m not royal on the weekend.” I laughed at her ridiculous comment, of course she know that I was royal, the two of us had grown up together, so she knew all of my secrets. She was shocked when I told her I was going to live with her in uni; she made this whole fuss, it was quite funny to watch her.

“Okay, sorry, your Highness.” she sarcastically called from the kitchen. “Make me a sandwich as well, will you?” “Your wish is my command, your Highness.” “Fuck you!” I said as I entered the kitchen to pour Hazel and myself some ice tea. “So, who’s going to the party?” I asked Hazel as she spread butter on the slice of bread. “Apparently, Jimin’s invited everyone and there’s someone he wants us to meet, I forgot his name but he’s quite chill apparently. A bit strange at times but a nice guy. That’s what I’ve heard anyway.” she told me as she put her finishing touches on the sandwiches. “I can’t wait to see who this mysterious guy is.” I joked as I took the cups into the living room and placed them on the coffee table. “If he’s hot, would you date him?” she asked as she placed my sandwich plate in front of me.

“You know I’m not looking to date.” I told her, before I took a bite out of her sandwich. “But what about a fling? You’ve had those, right?” she asked me. “I’ve not touched a soul.” I laughed as I switched the TV on. “You haven’t done anything, with anyone? Not even kiss? I thought you would have had some secret fling that you were keeping from me but you’re so honest with me that I know nothing’s happened.” she pouted as she flipped through the channels. “If he’s nice I guess I’d give him a shot, but not long term. You know what my parents are planning, I’ve agreed to it already.” I said as I rolled my eyes at the thought of marrying someone I didn’t know. “You trust them, right? They’ll hook you up with someone who’s good for you, he’ll treat you well and if he does lay a finger on you, he’ll catch these fists.” she joked as she pulled me into her body for an embrace.

Keep reading

SoulMarks!AU Gramander

This is just a short one-shot. I will post it on Archive and fanfic under the same name eventually. Hope ya’ll enjoy!
To Clarify:
-Soul Mates have matching SoulMarks and are called each other’s Destined
-When one of the pair dies the Mark disappears
-Marks have a unique shape and color
-Whether someone can be born w/o a SoulMark or whether they can get one after their Soul Mate is born is not relevant for this story
I Know (By the Timing and the Color of His Eyes)

They found him locked in a trunk in his own apartment. Inside the innocent looking trunk was a huge dungeon-like cell. There were various torture devices around the space that the MACUSA Aurors could barely look at without feeling crippling waves of rage and guilt.
Percival Graves was hanging limply in the center of the room covered in blood and dirt and other questionable substances. Many who were part of the retrieval squad wanted to turn away stomachs queasy from the sight and smell, but they stood firm. It was the least they could do for their Director who they all knew they had failed horribly.
He was stripped bare, and Tina noticed she could count each of his ribs as she cautiously approached him. He had not even twitched at their arrival and she was afraid they had made it too late.
“Mr. Graves,” she quietly called trying not to startle him.
Finally he moved- his head slowly lifting and the Aurors felt relief rush through them.
“Mr. Graves! It’s me, Tina-” She cut off with a gasp echoed around the room by her comrades.
Because there on the junction between the neck and left shoulder where there should have been a unique SoulMark that in all the world would only have one match (where they all knew there should have been a mark thanks to workplace gossip) was a horrible scar. The skin looked red and inflamed like a fresh burn.
It was only the darkest magic that could interfere or damage a SoulMark.
Had Grindelwald really sunk so low?
Looking into Mr. Graves eyes and seeing the broken despair there Tina knew they would not be able to magically fix this.
Mr. Graves was back to work six months after his rescue. Even President Picquery couldn’t convince him to take more time off. He acted much the same, but there were a few key differences to before.
Whispers followed him down the halls of MACUSA usually followed by pitying or distrustful looks. Words like “SoulMark” and “Grindelwald” not said quietly enough. Those of the Auror department were always quick to glare the gossipers into silence when they were near.
Mr. Graves was more strict than before. Every report needed to be perfect. Every case from his time in captivity was reviewed, twice. He stayed late at the department and was always the first to arrive. He no longer stopped to chat with his senior Aurors and didn’t join them for drinks on Friday nights like he used to.
The shadows under his eyes never disappeared, but none of them could voice their concern. There was an emptiness in his gaze that made all their hearts ache. They were very careful to never show pity and everyone worked twice as hard. They could never forgive themselves for not noticing that their boss was being impersonated; that he had been locked away for months in his own home due to their inadequacy.
Grindelwald slowly approached the man hanging in the center of the room. He steps echoed off the walls and he enjoyed the slight shivers that shook his prisoner’s frame whether from the fear or the cold he didn’t really care.
He reached out and grasped the greasy black and grey locks and yanked pulling until he could see the eyes of his victim- even after all this time still burning with defiance.
“Percival, Percival, Percival,” he slowly tsked, “Have I not told you before how rude it is not to greet your host?”
The Director of Magical Security simply glared having learned early on that it was better not to respond. Grindelwald had killed one of his Aurors as retaliation last time.
The Dark Lord merely laughed, “Oh, do not be like that Percival. Our time together is almost over.”
Mr. Graves practically snarled- the first sound he’d uttered since other’s entrance.
“Shhhh,Shhh,” Grindelwald said a gentle smile ghosting on his lips and unnerving his captive, “I will keep my word, and once I have what I want you will be released.”
The Dark Lord’s smile turned truly malicious, “However, what kind of host would I be if I did not leave you with a parting gift?”
His other hand came up and slowly caressed the Mark on Graves’s skin.
The man in question flinched back and for the first time since his capture pleaded with the mad man in front of him.
“N-no,” he croaked, voice hoarse from previous screams.
Grindelwald’s grin widened showing all his teeth with a maniac gleam.
“Oh, but, Percival, I have been researching the perfect curse for my goodbye present. I had to dig through hundreds of ancient tomes. What I wanted was quite obscure. You would not want to have wasted all my efforts? Would you,” he said grip bruising.
“Please,” Mr. Graves begged desperation clouding his voice.
Grindelwald laughed, “I knew I would one day have you begging before me, and you do not even know the full extent of it. Shall I explain?”
Mr. Graves shook his head as much as he could with the German man’s grip on his hair, “Don’t-”
The Dark Lord continued on gleefully, as if presenting a lecture, “In common terms it is called Soul Erasure or the Rasura curse. It was developed by the Egyptians for use against the invading Roman soldiers to strike at the moral of the army, and is rumored to be how Cleopatra managed to seduce Mark Antony. Rather simply it will erase your Mark from you and your Destined.”
Graves let out a tormented denial for which Grindelwald harshly backhanded him and then resumed his explanation the sadistic smile never faltering.
“But this curse will do so much more than that. It will not just erase the Mark from your skin, but from your mind as well. You will not be able to recall its shape or color. You could look at a picture of it and know it as yours, but as soon as you look away you will forget.”
Graves was shaking in horror. If it weren’t for the suppressing bands tight around his wrists he would have killed the man before him- as it was his magic was whirling chaotically inside him urgently trying to break free to stop this.
“And the best part,” Grindelwald said reveling in the effects of his words, “your soulmate will assume you have died. They will mourn and eventually move on. You will never know them. They will be lost to you. It could be anyone you pass in the street and you would not know. They could die at any time and you would not know. Until the day you die you will never know!”
The Dark Lord watched as the man before him panicked. Perhaps this would be the thing to finally break the Director.
He watched Graves’s struggles a bit more before slowly raising his wand so that the captured man could see it, “Well now, this is going to hurt, just a little.”
————————-(end flashback)————————–
Tina was worried. It had been almost two years since the Grindelwald fiasco, and there was still something in Mr. Graves that was broken- no- lost.
She blamed herself more harshly than the others. She had been Mr. Graves’s trainee. He was her mentor and she should have been able to recognize an impostor had taken his place, but she didn’t. It took a stranger to notice! (Even if Newt was now a close friend- it should have been her.)
Mr. Graves seemed recovered. His case success rate was at an all time high, his work efficiency was never better, but he was empty. He bantered with the senior Aurors again, but sometimes it fell flat. Once when Queenie had visited her with some of Jacob’s pastries (thank heavens they were Destined and not even MACUSA law would interfere with that) Mr. Graves had passed by and her sister had gasped and given the man such a mournful look. She had refused to elaborate, and Mr. Graves now avoided Queenie.
Tina herself had seen the Director staring intently at his pocket-watch as if memorizing something only for him look away and suddenly his expression would fall into despair and grief so profound she could no longer look at him.
It couldn’t go on she knew, watching her boss prowl down the aisle between the auror’s desks and into his office, something had to give.
That was the day Newt Scamander returned to New York carrying a familiar case and a copy of his new book.
As soon as Director Graves saw the figure standing next to Tina’s desk wearing a blue coat with a case in one hand and a book in the other he recognized him. Newt Scamander, he surmised having read all the reports on Grindelwald’s capture in which Mr. Scamander was featured.
This was the man who recognized that he was not himself. The man he hadn’t had a chance to meet or thank. Steeling himself, Graves walked over to do just that. Tina noticed him first and stood at attention just as he reached a polite distance away. Mr. Scamander, noticing his friend’s distraction hunched in on himself and slowly turned around eyes never quite settling.
An awkward silence stretched before them as the Magizoologist resolutely kept his gaze anywhere but on the Director. His hand was tight around his case and somehow his shoulders managed to scrunch down even further.
Finally, Graves could take the silence no more and extended his hand, “You must be Mr. Scamander. Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security. Pleasure to finally meet you.”
Mr. Scamander jumped at the sound of his voice and a blush spread from his ears down his neck.
“Ah- yes- right,” the man before him shifted and for a moment Graves thought he was going to actually run away when he simply tucked the book he was holding under his blue clad arm and grasped Graves’s hand in a surprisingly firm handshake.
“Please, just call me Newt, Director Graves,” he spoke in a polite British accent, “Mr. Scamander makes people think of my brother. And it is nice to finally meet the real you- uh- I mean…”
“Right, uh, Newt,” Graves responded after the other had trailed off. He was feeling oddly flustered, “Then I insist you call me Percival, and must offer you my sincerest thanks for your actions a couple of years ago.”
He still hadn’t released Newt’s hand and found himself unwilling to do so. Tina stood in the background watching their interaction with veiled shock.
“Percival- um- I think I was just in the right place at the right time,” Newt responded. He still hadn’t looked at the Director. Graves suddenly wanted to see his eyes even if he knew them from the picture attached to the Grindelwald report. He couldn’t explain it- he needed to look into those eyes and map their color to see if a photo could do them any justice.
He shook the strange feeling away and finally released Newt’s hand who snatched it back as if it burned. Graves cleared his throat to try and ease the tension, “Well, it was nice to meet you but I must be going.”
He gave a quick nod to Tina before turning around to make a swift escape. He got all the way to the door of his office before he gave into the urge to glance behind him. Newt was still standing near Tina’s desk looking a little lost in thought.
Without even thinking he called out, “Newt,” gaining the man’s attention (as well as that of all the Aurors in the department).
For a lightning quick moment those green eyes met his before settling on a spot over his shoulder. Graves felt like he had been struck by lightning and his magic was going wild. It gave him the strength to spit out his next words.
“How about dinner tonight? To celebrate your return to New York,” when he saw that Newt was about to protest he plowed on, “And as a personal thank you. I’ll collect you at seven o'clock sharp.” He turned around and entered his office, shutting the door without waiting for a response.
For a moment he just stood there shocked. What had gotten into him? In his mind he could remember that instant where Newt’s gaze met his and that familiar green he swore he’s never seen before.
Maybe, he thought moving to sit behind his desk, this could be the start of a friendship.
It was the start of a crush. Newt was smart and kind and passionate about his creatures. Grave couldn’t help but smile when he saw the Magizoologist. He found himself doing things just to get a smile from the man- to have Newt looking at him. He gave the man a permit for all his creatures. When the Niffler stole his pocket-watch he let the creature keep it. He convinced Picquery to offer Newt a job as MACUSA’s consultant for magical beasts- citing that he would provide valuable insight.
Newt accepted, and most importantly he stayed. Graves found himself smiling more easily. Nightmares that had plagued him were replaced with Newt’s smile or laugh. HIs favorite had been the one with the other man just staring at him. His green eyes never looking away from Graves’s. It was his favorite color now.
It all came crashing down when he saw Newt rubbing at the place his SoulMark would be. How could he have forgotten. Newt was probably waiting for his Destined, and Graves was just a friend. He was too broken to be anything else. He almost gave a bitter laugh. His Destined had probably moved on already, or, he thought with an ache, they were already dead. Graves didn’t know. Graves would never know.
He shook his head, and with an iron will pushed those echoes of Grindelwald away. Either way, he remembered now that Newt wasn’t his. He couldn’t keep Newt from finding his Destined. Of anyone Graves knew the Magizoologist deserved to find his soulmate most, and so he took a step back. He denied all of Newt’s offers for lunch or dinner or to help out. He stopped the chats, and only interacted with the man for a case. He ignored the hurt looks because this was for the best. He had to keep his distance. Graves put a wall around his feelings and soldiered on, for Newt.
Then some hot-shot, poaching ring decided to kidnap MACUSA’s resident Magizoologist.
Graves mobilized every available auror. They tracked down the poachers to their hideout in record time. The Director of Magical Security tore down the wards and apparated into the warehouse with three squadrons of MACUSA’s best and brightest just in time to see Newt tied to a post, shirtless, with one of the low-lives standing behind him a whip in his hand, raised and ready to strike.
Graves didn’t even think. His magic lashed out and wandlessly knocked the man away, into a wall. His Aurors took care of the rest while he rushed to Newt’s side and quickly released him- catching the man when he fell unable to hold himself up.
He cradled Newt protectively equal parts relieved and furious. Surprisingly, the Magizoologist didn’t push away, and Graves allowed himself to indulge for the moment confident that his men and women could handle the riffraff.
Suddenly, he heard a mumble of, “my case” before Newt was sitting up straight and frantically looking around the warehouse (yet for some reason he still didn’t leave the other’s embrace- not that the man was complaining). But Graves couldn’t concentrate on Newt’s words for his gaze was captured on that place between neck and shoulder. It was clear.
Newt finally spotted his case being handled by a protective Tina and turned his attention back to the man who had suddenly gone rigid around him. He realized what Graves was staring at and quickly covered the spot, but he knew it was too late. The Director would know that they were not a match. Maybe, a small part of Newt thought, maybe he already knew and that was why he has been putting distance between them.
“My-” Newt spoke to break the heavy silence between them, “my Mark… It disappeared shortly before I came to New York… the first time. They- whoever… Whoever they were- died before I could meet them.”
Graves’s mind had gone blank. Newt’s SoulMark was gone- had disappeared around the same time that Grindelwald had cursed his. And suddenly he knew. Knew that his Destined was alive. Knew that he was holding him at this moment. And so he did the first thing that came to his mind. He kissed him. One hand going tight around Newt’s waist, the other tangling gently into coppery hair.
Newt froze for a moment before eagerly returning his affections, and when they finally broke apart Graves rested his forehead on the other’s while they both caught their breath.
Finally, Newt pulled back looking flustered and confused, but there in his green eyes was a spark of hope.
“I… I don’t-”
Graves cut him off with a gentle smile, “I know.”


The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement [2004]

The Queen is never late, everybody else is simply early.

Plot: Now settled in Genovia, Princess Mia faces a new revelation: she is being primed for an arranged marriage to an English suitor.

Director: Garry Marshall

Actors: Anne Hathaway (Mia Thermopolis), Julie Andrews (Queen Clarisse Renaldi), Hector Elizondo (Joe)

Writers: Gina Wendkos

Sassy!Stark Pt.8

Pairing: Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader 

Warnings: Swearing (it me) and some angst

Word count: 1,690

A/N: Sorry for my absence on here! Uni is still kicking my ass so I do not have that much time to write, but I am trying my best!

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 

Originally posted by lov-eswift

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

aaaaaaah noona can i get seventeen jun, male reader, K/M? whichever letter is more comfortable hehe thANK YOU ~finn

Originally posted by svnteen-idiots

(warning: smut ahead)

M: Porn Star AU 

(obvi we’re doing this one cause we all know that Jun fucks like a porn star)

You were spread out on the bed, completely naked save the black leather collar you had been given to wear, your cock in your hand and a moderately sized, veiny, flesh colored dildo stretching out your sweet little asshole as you pushed and pulled the object. 

There was a parade of people around you - camera men, one getting a wide angled shot of your body, lean and perfect with your knees raised so pretty to your chest, revealing your pretty hole and round cheeks, and the other circling the bed with profession and focus, getting close ups of your leaking cock and the dildo going in and out of you. The director was here of course, the producers, make up artist, and other people you didn’t much know the purpose of. 

And of course, even though your concentration was supposed to be completely on the titillation of your aching body, your attention wandered to the presence of a gorgeous young man as he came onto the set. 

“Junhui!” The director called to him.

You recognized the name immediately. He had been the person you were supposed to shoot with today, but supposedly bailed, leaving you to do an unexpected solo scene.

“You’re three hours late!”

“A king is never late, every else is simply early.”


It wasn’t long before he was naked, wearing just enough makeup to swell your cock up just the slightest bit more - to make it painful now when you looked down and saw that he was getting hard, and big enough to kill you without even being at full mast.

“Good thing you warmed up for me, baby boy.” He teased. 

He flipped you onto your front, handling you with strong hands, rough touches. You got up onto your hands and knees and he shoved your head down onto the mattress, perching your ass high into the air, displaying you in all your glory.

Your breathing was shallow, air tight in your chest; hands gripping the sheets with anticipation. Jun pumped his now fully hardened cock as he got onto the bed behind you. One of the interns tossed him a condom and he ripped open the pack as he teased your fluttering hole with the swollen head of his cock.

“Are we rolling?” Jun asked casually, pulling away for a tragic moment to put the condom on.

“Yeah.” The director answered.

“Good. Cause you’re gonna wanna get this.” 

You could almost feel him wink into the lense before he plunged into hot, hard, deep. 

(I really hope you like it, Finny.)


anonymous asked:

ooh that last ask was so cute!!! could you maybe do it with roadhog, junkrat, and reinhardt? pleeease?

The balloon one? Certainly. Here’s a link to the first one >>> boop

I’m kinda glad to get a little practice writing roadhog and Junkrat with an easier prompt bc i have another request for them and I kinda don’t play them (I am trying to widen the characters I play). Tho I asked my sister bc she played both and said roadhog was intense and Junkrat was hyperactive. Also you cannot tell me that Reinhardt isn’t a master at arts and crafts.

I refuse to believe it.


It seemed like a great idea, an excellent way to show affection to your boyfriend, but there was one thing in your way.


Or rather your inability to blow up balloons. 

You had planned to fill Roadhog’s room with pink balloons, with pig face, ears, and even a curly tail that you were going to tape to them. Excitedly you sat in the living room surrounded by empty balloons, paper, and tape. Wiggling on your butt you pressed the mouth of the pink balloon to your mouth and began to blow. 

Your lungs began to ache with the harsh way you were blowing. Cheeks puffed up and hurting and the balloon stubbornly stayed deflated. You kept trying until your head swam and tears began to prickle at the corners of your eyes. 

Your body collapsed to the floor and your shoulders began to shake with your heavy sobs. It was a silly thing to get so upset about but you were so excited to surprise Roadhog with. Combining the disappointment with the growing stress of trying to blow up a balloon that wouldn’t inflate.

That’s how Roadhog found you, a half hour later, surrounded by crumpled paper and flat pink balloons and just sobbing.

“Who do I need to kill?”

Roadhog’s gruff voice rang through the room and you sat up, rubbing your face clean of tears. After explaining the predicament he simply gave a rare genuine chuckle and picked you off the floor. Settling you on his shoulders he marched you out of the room.

“Come on,” his mask moved with each word, “let’s go steal something that’ll make you feel better.”


It was two in the morning when your boyfriend had frantically shook you awake, fresh coat of fire on the tips of his hair. 

“Com’on,” his eyes were bright in the dark room and you got up, feet tucked into slippers.

“I got an idea,” his hands thrummed on his thighs with an unknown rhythm, “I wanna show you.”

Knowing he was going to sleep in until two tomorrow you held in your protests about be woken up this early and simply followed your boyfriend. He led you into his banged up lab that they had banished him to when he destroyed half of the kitchen. 

The smell of smoke and gunpowder tickled your nose as you stepped over a smoking heap of scrap metal.

“I was thinkin’ about your birthda’ and what I was gonna get for your prezzy and then I gotta idea.”

In the middle of the room was a box and several sheets of wrapping paper thrown about randomly.

“You do realize birthday presents are supposed to be a surprise?” you blinked tiredness out of your eyes.

“Oi, darl,” he grabbed your hands and shook them excitedly, “that ain’t it, unless you wanna end up all explodey.”

You snapped your fingers with recognition and then pointed at the empty balloons literally the place.

“What are those for?”

 “That’s the genius part, when ever’one standing around. Wonderin’ what these are fo’. They pop open, balloons flowin’ out and then,” his hands made an exploding motion as he whistled the starting melody to ‘Happy Birthday’.

You gave a happy hum, always glad to see him excited about things. 

“I got fill up these balloons,” He quickly inflated one and tied it, “then I’m gonna hit the sack.”

Figuring that he was just going to wake you up again when he came barging into the shared room you decided to help. Picking up one of the balloons you pressed it to your lips to fill up with air. When the balloon refused to fill up anger quickly filled you.

Throwing it to the ground you screamed, “Well whatever, it’s just a stupid balloon.”

You blinked back tears and Junkrat just stared at you.

“I’ll be stuffed,” he stared at you until he realized that you were actually upset, hands reaching out for you, “Oi, it’s alrigh’. There’s no reason to get spewin’. Let’s bail out and I’ll bring you on a Macca run in the mornin’.”

You sniffled and both of you went back to your shared room. Crawling under the covers he propped his arm and leg on the side of the bed. Sprawling together a thought popped in your head right as you were falling asleep.

“Don’t you need to fill the balloons with helium to make them float?”


Sitting on on Reinhardt’s shoulders, arms resting on the top of his head, he carried you through the base. Loudly greeting people as they came into view, you giving a small wave when they whipped around.  So far the pair of you had scared, - making her throw her bunny styled backpack on the ground - Lucio, - who flew several feet into the air- and Zarya - who simply turned around, ready to fight. 

Reinhardt affectionately pressed a kiss to the skin just above the knee and you stroked his head in return.

“Mein Leibling,” he voice rumbled and you peered over his hair at him.

Tilting your head to show that he had your attention he continued on.

“I heard that Ana got sick,” you gave a hum, heart warming at his concern for his comrade, “I would like to make her a get well , would you like to help Engel?”

 Giving a nod he carried you to your room, craft supplies pulled out. It didn’t surprise you that he was a crafting master, though you played up the surprise when he told you. He lovingly glued a piece of light grey lace in a spiral going up to a blank card as you cut out a mug out of patterned paper. He glued the mug to the lace with a bit spiraling up like steam.

Finishing with a tag, wishing Ana to get well soon, and a string latching to the top. He gave a little tada, presenting the card above his kneeling form. You giggled and gave a questioning look to the empty red balloons next to you, golden stars emblazoning it. He pulled out a basket, already stuffed with tea and throat lozenges, and described how he was going to have a bloom of balloons taped behind it. Already seeing it it in your mind you grabbed a balloon and watched Reinhardt fill one with a single burst of air. 

Your attempts were considerably less successful, balloon barely moving with each struggle. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as shame burned through you, this meant a lot to your boyfriend and you couldn’t even blow up a single balloon. His large arms wrapped around you and you just breathed in his scent. 

“It’s alright Leibling,” he gently patted your back and you wiped the tears, “we can’t do everything and I’m here to help.”

Pressing a kiss to the your forehead before filling the remaining balloons. Taping it the the handle so it blossomed behind the tea and tucking the card into the basket, you picked it up.

“Ready to deliver it to Ana, Leibling?”

Giving a nod you rested your arm on his forearm, the two of you making your way to the med bay.