soften

Maas University: Part One

Students littered across the campus of Maas University. Cassian had to slow to a stop twelve times before getting to his parking space. Peering out the windshield, Cassian gazed at the set of brick buildings. Memories of the best kind poured into him: meeting Nesta, his friends, his family. People he hadn’t seen in years.

He squeezed his wife’s hand before he turned the ignition off and peered over the seat at his children. Aysel still slept, her military jacket thrown over her, covering her ripped jeans and Halestorm band tee, her headphones still in her ears. Bay too had headphones in, his eyes trained on the book resting in his lap. “We’re here guys.”

Looking up from his book, Bay pulled down his headphones and looked out the window, his hazel green eyes filled with a quiet nervousness as he watched the students. He turned to shake Aysel awake. “Ays.”

Kohl lined blue-grey eyes fluttering open, Aysel pulled her headphones from her ears, music still blasting from them and looked out the window. Face lighting up, she shoved off her jacket and barreled out of the car, shouting, “I have arrived, bitches!”

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CS ff: “They Lived”

Rating: T (which feels awful and weird and where is the smut? Hint: I’m saving it for other projects.)

A/N: This is 1.2k of pure wedding fluff, because I wanted them to have a little more fun at their reception this time.


When the dust all settles, including that of Mr. Gold’s late, evil fairy of a mother, they call a do-over on the wedding. The nuptials stand, but other than a single dance, Emma and Killian never got to have a reception, so they try it again with less chance of interruptions.

Since the weather decides to cooperate, they once again set up on the rooftop overlooking the clock tower, and at 6:01pm, two days after everything has gone back to normal, Leroy is given the honor of announcing.

He’s not given a microphone, but everyone can still hear him easily enough as he says, “They’re here! The bride and groom are here!” And to an equal amount of applause and laughter, Emma and Killian emerge from the stairwell, hand in hand, with matching smiles. “Now announcing, the newlyweds!”

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Always- An Ivar Imagine

So @whenimaunicorn sent me the prompt: “Truth or Dare? I dare you to spend the rest of the night tied to Prince Ivar at the wrists.” Thanks for the prompt!

Here is the result. More angst than originally planned. Oops?

TW: mild sexual content, infidelity

***
You had never known Hvitserk to be cruel.

Okay, that was a lie. You had never known him to be cruel to you. Other people were another story. But tonight, tonight you fell into that category of “other people”. For what he had done, you would consider the cruelest thing of all.

It had started innocent, a game of truth or dare among brothers and friends. It was a game played often, as you had known the Ragnarssons since you were all grubby children, playing in the mud. The ale and laughter had flowed, to the point where you could almost forget the aching hole that was etched permanently upon your heart. But then, it had been your turn. You had chosen dare. And Hvitserk, drunk and careless, had dared you to spend the rest of the night, tethered by the wrists, to none other than Ivar.

Ivar, the man you were hopelessly in love with. Ivar, the man you could not stay away from. Ivar, the man who would never be wholly yours.

You agreed to the dare, not only to be spared the severe penalty but to savour any sort of closeness you could get with the Prince.

You moved to sit beside Ivar. Someone came and bound your wrists together, you didn’t know who. All you could focus on were her eyes, staring at you from across the table, hating you. Wishing you would one day take to your father’s fishing boat and not return. Drowned, dragged to the bottom of the sea, a sea that she could somehow bend to her will. She knew, she knew that his heart lay with you and not with her. She was a pawn, a token used for land and power and offspring with a strong bloodline. You, you were the fire in his blood, the beating of his heart, the name on his lips when he took her to bed.

But you were a nobody, and princes did not end up with nobodies. They had mothers and fathers and brothers who pushed for alliances, for duty, for the good of the people. They ended up with someone who could give them those things.

You were not that someone.

You could feel Ivar’s skin next to yours, where your wrists touched, warm and familiar. It made you ache for an easier time, when there was nothing but bare skin and love and the hopes of the young and foolish. Hopes you could one day be together, love freely and without restraint. You hardly got any time with each other now. Every moment you could spend by his side was a precious one.

As if he could sense your distress, your lover placed your linked hands under the table, onto your thigh. He had not said anything when Hvitserk had issued the dare. He had not protested, had not insisted it be an insult to his wife to be tied to another woman. He had simply let it happen. A choice. A declaration. You over her, every time. And she knew it.

The weight of your joined hands on your thigh was comforting, a balm amidst the tension that was threatening to suffocate you. She flicked her eyes down to the table, disgust marring her pretty face. To her, you were worthless. She could not see what kept drawing him to you. You both knew she didn’t love him, only married him for the name and the power and the role of duty. But it irked her to no end that he did not fall at her feet like all the others, did not desire her body. She wanted to catch her prey, but he kept slipping through her net.

The game continued on. You could not focus. Ivar’s hand had inched higher up your thigh, fingers stroking over the soft material of your dress. Her eyes were now on her husband, cold and stony. He growled, baring sharp white teeth as his fingers sunk deep into your thigh. Baiting her, showing her what she was to him. The title of wife meant nothing.

It should have comforted you, to know he only wanted you. That she was nothing to him. But it still hurt. It hurt to know she carried the title of wife, and not you. It hurt to know she was by his side, would one day grow round with his child in her belly. She would have his future, and you would be naught but a secret in the dark. You did not want to share, you wanted all of him. Every moment, every look, every touch. It was not enough to know he loved you. Your heart was greedy. It wanted everything, for it and it alone.

Ivar pushed your joined hands further into your lap, fingers teasing your flesh. You could feel the desire flowing through them, his simmering need for you. With her, it was all about business, securing a child. With you, it was love and passion and burning, all consuming need. You did not get many chances to be together, and every encounter was a like a wild summer storm, fierce and raging.

He stopped his movements on your thigh, instead leaning over to ghost his lips over the shell of your ear. No one was watching but her, no one cared but her. You should have felt bad for her, how must it feel knowing your husband cares not for you? But you did not. You would never see her as anything more than a thief. A thief who stole your happy future.

“Truth or dare?” Ivar whispered softly in your ear, voice laced with a dark lust. You shivered as his words slid over your skin like a silken scarf.

“Dare,” you whispered back, not daring to look at his face.

He leaned closer, his heady scent enveloping you like a tender embrace.

“I dare you to take me to bed. My bed.”

He meant the bed he shared with her, in the back of the Great Hall. You sucked in a breath. You had always met somewhere, never had he taken you in that bed, since he had gotten married. It was probably a bad idea.

But you did not care.

You stood up, grabbing Ivar’s crutches for him from where they leaned upon his chair. He allowed himself to give you a heated smirk, before the two of you awkwardly made your way towards the back of the Hall.

Her eyes followed you the whole way there.

But once you were enclosed in his private quarters, all thoughts but Ivar left your mind. He somehow managed to get his knife out of his belt, cut your bonds and throw you onto the bed with a few smooth motions. You eagerly reached for him as he lowered himself out of his crutches, desperate to feel all of him against you.

You needed him like air, you craved him like a drug. He fell upon you with a fervour only he could have, all groping hands and hungry kisses and loud, needy moans. He did not try to quiet himself, he did not care if she heard. If anyone heard. You found you did not care either. You arched into him and let him sweep you away in a tidal wave of pleasure.

He took you fast, and he took you hard. No loving caresses, no soft teasing, no slow and sweet build up. Pure carnal desire, the kind that leaves delicious aches and bruises to savour. Ivar in his truest form, making you cry out, making you beg for more, more, more. You knew nothing but the slide of hot, slippery skin, the taste of salt and sweat, the stars exploding behind your eyelids.

After, you curled yourself around him, pressing your shaking body as close as you could get. He enclosed you in his arms, letting you rest against him as you both caught your breath. As you laid there, your euphoria faded, and the ache in your heart returned.

“It should be enough,” you said softly, tracing a pattern over his chest with your fingers. “It should be enough to share you, and know that it is me who holds your heart. People do it all the time. Look at your brothers, sharing Margrethe between them. But I am selfish. I want you all to myself. I want to be your only wife, and the only woman you take to bed. I want to give you all your children. Is that wrong?”

He began to stroke his fingers through your long hair, blunt nails scratching gently over your scalp.

“It is not wrong,” he said, voice rumbling in his chest. “It is not wrong, for I feel the same way. I do not want to be tied to her. I do not want her to bear my children. I chose you, and only you, a long time ago. When I think of how I would feel if our situations were reversed, I want to kill something. The thought of another man touching your makes me sick.”

It made you sick, too. You twisted so you could press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“If only I was not who I am. If only I was like her, from a family worthy-”

He cut you off with a firm hand to your throat, pulling you on top of him so he could look at you with angry eyes.

“Do not ever say that again,” he growls, fingers squeezing, squeezing. “Do not wish you were anything but what you are. You are perfect. You are not less than her. Do you hear me?”

You nod, and his fingers relax. His eyes, however, stayed hard and blazing.

“I will find a way,” he vowed. “I will find a way to weaken her father, to make it so he is not more powerful than us. I married his daughter so he would not overpower us; I will make it so he has no power, and so I will no longer be in need of my marriage. Then,” his face softens ever so slightly, “then I will be free to marry whom I wish.”

It was a lot to promise, and probably very much unlikely to come true. But you clung to his words like a child clings to its mother’s skirts. A distant hope. You leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

“I should go,” you whispered, thinking of her sitting in the Great Hall. “I should go before she comes to you.”

His grip on you tightened, possessive. “No. You will stay. She will not come to me tonight. You will stay, and let me hold you. I will wake at least once with you in my arms.”

You knew you should leave, before leaving got any harder, but a night in his arms was more than you ever got. So you agreed, nestling down against him, letting him wrap himself around you. The darkness pressed around you like a comforting blanket, wrapping you up in a world where you could pretend only the two of you existed.

“Truth or dare,” you whispered, finding his hand in the dark.

“Truth,” his hand was warm, calloused, perfect.

“Will you always love me? No matter what our lives become?” You knew the answer. But to hear it was a bandage across your broken heart

A sigh. A kiss on your head. Broad fingers squeezed yours.

“Always.”

****
I known with Vikings sharing is caring, but I imagine some of them are not into it. Happy Sunday! ❤️

I fell in love with the world all over again this past weekend. There’s something incredibly humbling about wandering around a place as beautiful and as immense as Yosemite. Surrounded on all sides by beauty that is immeasurable, ancient, unconquerable. Walking under the enormous trees and dipping my hands in the freezing glacier water and standing below a waterfall hundreds of feet high I somehow felt both at home and like a trespasser. I couldn’t help but look at the park and see it twice; once how it is now with its paved paths and gift shops and guard rails, and then again how it might have been 200 years ago, untouched and untampered with. I tend to dislike how humans interact with nature, commoditizing it and slowly destroying it, but I noticed something in Yosemite that softened my view of society’s relationship with the wild…as I stood under those cliffs with my throat tight and eyes brimming with an overwhelming love and gratitude for the world that I get to stand on I looked around at the other people standing around me and saw the same expressions on their faces. And I looked around again at the park and instead of seeing how people were leaving their ugly mark I saw instead how we were preserving it. There was no trash anywhere despite the hundreds of people that pass through this valley every day, and all around there were people laughing and grinning and excitably pointing out beautiful sights to their loved ones. National Parks may be commoditized but they are a way for everyone, young and old and everything in between, to see and appreciate the world’s most incredible feats of nature and fall in love with the world anew, and that seems like a pretty wonderful thing to me.

Barisi Episode Tag, 18x17

(Yes, I know Barba wasn’t in this episode. No, I didn’t let that stop me.)

(10.8K. Rafael POV. Fluffy and angst-free. Inspired by Sonny and Rafael wearing almost the exact same outfit, and then wearing literally the exact same outfit. Also inspired by my need to justify why Rafael was missing from Real Fake News, even though Liv needed him. Lastly, in this story I attempt to explain Rafael’s softened personality in S18. So this is the Barba version of Flan, I suppose. Oh and, this is sort of a prequel-tag to the finale. It’ll make sense when you read it.)

Please enjoy.

~~~

Snapping

~~~

“Is he here yet?”

“No, Mr. Barba. Not yet. I’ll send him in, as soon as he arrives.”

Rafael sighs.

He’s pretty sure Carmen would sigh too, if she weren’t the consummate professional that she is. He’s asked her five times, already, and the meeting isn’t for another ten minutes.

He can’t help it.

Rafael can’t help feeling nervous.

Frustrated.

Useless.

It’s not his case.

He knows that.

It can’t be his case.

Rafael had to quietly recuse himself.

Again.

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Mammi Water

Alright so, I wrote another thing. My mind just can’t stop sometimes and I should be focusing on those two prompt requests that are still in my inbox (I haven’t forgotten about them). I saw a post on here and I just… couldn’t help it, lol. Hope you like it.


Michonne basks in the sun by the bank. She rolls over onto her side, propping her head up with her hand as she runs her free fingers through the luscious green grass. She lets out a sigh. Maybe today isn’t the day. Her dark eyes scan over the tall palm trees, whose large leaves provide shade from the piercing sun. She peers up into the blue sky and the fluffy white clouds as they pass. It’s a beautiful day. She doesn’t even regret venturing out of her home, even if she returns with nothing in hand. She closes her eyes a little as she revels in the feeling of the sun warming her glistening dark skin.

There’s a rumble in the bushes to her left. She turns her head slowly, her eyes squinting as she sits up on her knees. There’s a low growl as two yellow eyes peer back at her. Out steps a black panther, slow, meticulous, his large paws digging into the sand and dirt as he moves. Michonne lowers her head slightly, mimicking the wild cats’ behavior as they size each other up. He growls again but she doesn’t flinch. He bares his large canines then lets out a ferocious scream, all the while keeping those eyes on his prey. Michonne merely smirks at the animal as he circles her, growling and hissing to intimidate her.

“Hush now.”

He stops, ducking his head low, his nostrils flaring as he collects her scent. It’s different. She’s different. His tail whips behind him as he screams again, this time a little quieter and less menacing. She holds out her hand to him, raising her eyebrow, that smirk still playing on her features as his eyes soften just a little. He’s still cautious, his stance still menacing as he eyes the woman.

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Title: And We All Fall Down, Chapter 4

Summary: Jyn and Cassian enjoy spending time together on the press tour for their movie.

Notes: Based on @operaticspacetrash‘s moodboard about a fake celebrity pr relationship.

AO3/1655 words (Chapters 1, 2, 3)

Jyn woke with Cassian pressed along side her, his forehead touching the base of her neck. By his even breathing, Jyn guessed he was still asleep.

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anonymous asked:

Hi... I need help. I'm being boycotted at work. My job is basically pointing out people's mistakes to be able to fix them so everyone hates me for it. Now a bunch of girls are accusing me of something I didn't do cause they want me to get fired. I don't want to curse them, but I want them to stop getting me in trouble! Is there anything (not a curse--not judging! I just can't do them) that I can do? Do you have any recommendations?

It sounds like you are just doing your job, so you shouldn’t have too much to worry about? You are vital to the company because you do what you do and fix mistakes that others are making. You could always approach how you point out mistakes differently as well, possibly? If they think you are being cruel about it, then you might just be able to reword it a bit. Offering a suggestion on how to fix it tends to soften the blow a bit sometimes too? I have no idea how you are approaching it, but those are some non-magical suggestions, at least! On to the fun stuff!

I wasn’t really able to find anything with your specific intent, but these may help and you can change the intent on a few of these to the bitchy girls that keep fucking up & are salty they are getting caught on it.

Also pretty much any binding spell would work as well too. You can find more in the gossip section as well ;)

These are more aimed to gossip, but it may help?

Good luck!! <3

3

the prickly feeling of change bringing rooms of silence

if i write a poem that believes in itself enough to say
“yes i am tired of silence, then suffering”

from a different room i can hear it calling
“i will be okay, probably, i hope”

TaiyamaWeek17 *Day 1*

So I’m, like, REALLY late (May is a complicated month y’all)…. but gosh darnit I’m gonna do it anyway!! 

Write about when and why you like Taichi/Yamato 

Let’s see….. I started liking Taiyama back in High School. Originally I was a Taiora shipper, but I had a crisis mid-fic and realized the MASSIVE amount of taiyama subtext and was like “Huh… these two together….I like it”. And then it kinda spiraled from there until these two dorks became my ultimate OTP. 

I could wax poetic about why I love their relationship all day.

I could talk about how Yamato looks at Taichi the way someone stuck in winter looks at the sun on the first day of spring. How Yamato’s sharp edges seem to soften in the presence of Taichi’s warmth. How Taichi is the center of Yamato’s solar system, and he is continuously caught in the ebb and flow of his gravitational pull, melting his icy exterior one day and setting him on fire the next. I could talk about how Yamato choosing to become an astronaut made perfect sense to me, because he has always been drawn to the brilliance of stars….

I could talk about how Taichi looks at Yamato the way a sailor gazes at the ocean; marveling at its sheer depth and magnitude and breathtaking beauty. How even with his telescope it took him a while to see every cave and hidden treasure. How Taichi, ever the adventurer, would want to explore every inch of it until it’s as familiar to him as his own body. How even though the ocean can be cold and salty and mysterious, Taichi holds fast to the belief that there is so much more to him than what’s on the surface…

But instead I’m going to take a moment of self reflection and really delve into why these two have occupied so much space in my head for so many years.

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anonymous asked:

She lightly smacked his arm. "William Solace! How's he supposed to get better with that attidtude?" WIll shrugs. He wants to sleep. He wants to take Nico home. He just wants to be okay. His mother's voice softens. "I know it's hard, honey, Nico needs you to be strong. You do all you can, and he'll do the same. We all will." Will doesn't say anything. He's still worried. "How are you?" he asks. Naomi smirks at him. "A little lonely since my boys been making out with his boyfriend," she teases.

Will gives a smile, but it’s strained. “Sorry, Mama,” he whispered quietly. Naomi rubbed Will’s arms before rubbing his shoulders. “I know you’re doing your best, hunny, and that’s all you can do. It’ll be better when you get home and Nico’ll be better because he’s on the right medications.” Nico was already on so many different medications though, and any one of them could react negatively with the heart medications and mess everything up. They could seriously mess Nico up. Will shivered at the thought, and his mother rubbed the back of his neck gently. Will tried to will back the tears. He decided to change the subject. “You seem a lot better, Mama. When do you get to go home?”

anonymous asked:

Since you seem to like Iggy so much, how about Ignis, fem!Reader + first. I leave the rest up to you...

“Ignis, I…” you faltered.

His green eyes softened. Usually so cold, sharp as the twin steel daggers he favoured, with you he was sweetness itself. “Darling,” he breathed. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. I promise.”

You smiled.

“But,” he added, “You might have to lend me your trust a little longer…”

Your heart was hammering. All your friends had had sex for the first time years ago, but you’d never found anyone you were comfortable enough with. Until Ignis. “I do trust you…”

He turned his face towards you. His eyes glowed. “You’re going to enjoy this.”


As a thank you for reaching 100 followers, I’m writing 100 word drabbles. Send me a person or a pairing plus a word, or an opening sentence, and I’ll write you a 100 word drabble in return! (note, I’m moving house right now, so I’m not able to respond as quickly as I’d like. I’m sorry!)

Starboy - Part One

Rating: M/E

Summary: Prequel to The Fall of Mercutio. Some people trip over the edge or stumble into their fall from grace. Jellal dove head first with his eyes wide open.

Note: This self-indulgent prequel can be blamed almost entirely on @freyjabee. I brought it up casually and she said DO IT so here we are. Starboy will be a four part piece covering the two years of Jellal’s life before The Fall of Mercutio begins. This is not a Jerza story. It’s the spiral of a young man coming to terms with the lies often told to children.

Also posted here:

FFN

AO3

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L is for the way you look at me.

Usnavi had not known how Sonny and Benny had figured out Johans feeling for him before he did. When he told them about going on his first date with Johan they had just shared a knowing look before telling him it was about time. He was confused at the time, but let it slide in favor of discussing how the date went.

One day though, while waiting on a park bench for Johan to meet him and walk to get lunch, it became very evident to Usnavi how they knew. Johan had not seen him yet, and was searching the park for him when Usnavi spotted him, be was about to call out, when he noticed the expression on his face. Johans usual radiance was dulled, his face looked like cold stone, lowered eyebrows and pouty lips, he wondered what happened. But then a second later Johan spotted Usnavi, and the change in his face was astounding. His expression softened, warmth came to his features as a smile took over the west coasters face. This was the face Usnavi was used to, and apparently, he now understood, the one that was reserved for him and him alone.

 A/N This was going to be the start of a fic, but I couldn't figure out where I was going with it, I still like how it sounds though, so I thought I’d gift it to you, hope you like it <3

How Varian and Amren Became a Ship: The Finale

Thank you for the love and support that I have gotten throughout this  journey. Thank you all. Now that this series is over I should probably start writing my Elorcan series again or something. I don’t know. If you guys wanna send me prompts from anything Sarah J Maas or Six or Crows or Raven Boys related. Just feel free- I am literally a student with hours of free time. I want to practice writing. Automatic win win situation here. Thanks you :)

Part 10: https://samaykay912.tumblr.com/post/161172134797

Part 8: https://samaykay912.tumblr.com/post/160995409877

WARNING: This is ridiculously long compared to the rest of the series. Sorry not sorry.


“You.”, Cress said, fury softening her voice to a point of a pillow. Most likely to trick people into thinking that this isn’t a major scolding coming my way.

Since, the battle, Varian did the best he could in the infirmary. He healed as many people as he could. He wrote letters to countless loved ones of his men if they didn’t make it. He wrote countless letters to loved ones because his men were too weak to lift a pen. Whatever he could do to help his men get better. Whatever the cost.

They came to help. His letter made it to her. He hoped she was okay and would save his time to worry about her when he was alone. He didn’t want prying eyes to notice leverage. Just because the Night Court isn’t an enemy doesn’t mean that the Summer Court has no enemies. Hybern just attacked them- with the Spring Court as their ally. He would rather not expose one of his few weaknesses, thank you very much.

“Yes.”, Varian stated absentmindedly. He hasn’t slept since before the battle. He was so, so tired. He just wanted rest. But he knew his duties and would complete them before his head ever hit the pillow. “I’m working.”
“You need to come with me. Now.”, Cress said, barely able to contain her fury.

Fighting back a smirk, the Prince of Adriata cocked his head, “Why? My work is here. I haven’t finished my letters to the families of those who died. I still have to do the math to see how much compensation I can provide. I also have to check on the injured men to see if they will be able to go back to the army.” He paused, remembering the injuries of his men, “If they can’t, I need to add them to list of people to be compensated as well. My work is here.”

Cress then proceeded to grab him by the arm and drag him out of the room, “Your Night Court spy is here.” Then she hit Varian in the back of the head. However, due to sleep deprivation, he didn’t feel much. “You are in so much trouble, young man!”

Varian shrugged, “Prove it.”

Cress scoffed and led him to his own room. She put a hand to his chest before he could open the door, “She’s the reason we survived isn’t she? You told her about the attack and they decided to help.”

He smiled, “They aren’t as bad as we think they are. It’s just an illusion. One that I hope to see through one day.”

Cress huffed, “Be glad that Tarquin didn’t notice her.” I gave her a pleading look and she muttered, “Cauldron help us.” Then she let me go.

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