sometimes i don't know what goes through my head when i shower

Why Sasuke Uchiha Will Never Drink Again [Crackish One-Shot]

Blanket Fic Disclaimer

AN: So, I don’t even know why I wrote this one. I think I was on a sugar high or something a couple of days ago and just threw it together with no intention of posting it…but when I realised I wasn’t going to get IOG done by tonight, I thought hey, maybe someone needs a laugh. I know I want one…I’m dreading going back to work tomorrow and have entered that part of the year where I’m desperately counting down the days until summer vacation… I hope my writing keeps me sane long enough to see it! Anyway, I’m going to file this under “miscellaneous plot bunnies” because it’s not part of any official ‘verse…

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anonymous asked:

so i really wanna start writing this nessian long fic but i'm so afraid bc there's so many talented writers in this fandom like you and i just don't know if anyone will like it or even read it idek any advice for people like me who are hesitant to start writing fic for this fandom (or any fandom really)??

Okay okay okay (I suck at advice but I will try okay okay trying:) 

So first things first if you have a thing inside your head that you want to write write it. Get it out of your head. It is doing you no good in there (well okay it kinda is because story ideas are fun to sit and imagine and that’s nice) but it’s even better putting it down on paper!!! Set the idea freeee. Seriously. If you have that itch to write give in to it. It’s a rare enough thing that it should be cherished and indulged in when it deigns to appear. In short: JUST WRITE THE THING!!!! 

The second part of that is posting the thing. Which you do not have to do. You can just write things for you, you know? In fact I think that’s the better way (and it’s Hard, dude, I know it is, because sometimes you’re just like….could ppl pls shower me with love it makes me want to keep writing (one nice comment will power my scribbling for days I know how it goes)) but these ideas are yours and you should own them and enjoy them just for you. Just because it feels good to have written this thing and put your ideas out there whether other people respond to them or not. 

Posting fic is scary af I still don’t like it (I scuttle off to bed…pretty much as soon as I’ve posted whatever it is I’m posting I GET IT DUDE) but it’s also a lot of fun? Most of the awesome people I’ve met through fandom I’ve met through fic too; it gets people talking and that’s good. This fandom is actually pretty responsive towards fic in that…I think a solid 70-80% of them actually read it/go looking for it/interact with it in some way and that’s really cool? So if this is your starting point it’s good!!! 

Also okay, I’m blatantly ripping this off from some post or other I have seen floating around this website but it’s like. Fic authors and fic readers see their fic in very different ways. Fic authors look at their fic and then they look at someone else’s fic and they do this: :( because that person’s writing is so much better than mine, their fics are so much better, I will never be as good as them I should just not even try. Fic readers look at other people’s fic and they go: :O Fic readers look at your fic and they go: :O Fic readers look at fics and are like omg a giant juicy chocolate cake and a glorious cheesecake. Different cake is still cake and all cake is good (the original post explained this so much better than me I’m just like…pointing that out in case it needed to be said) 

The point is that no fic reader in the universe reads one fic and really likes it then goes and reads another fic and likes it a little bit better and then right, well, that last one was obviously garbage. I’m not bothering with them anymore what’s the point. I have found it. This is the one. This is the ultimate fic. We have found The One And Only fic author in this fandom we are ever going to read we don’t need any others, we don’t want any other fic ever because we have this one and it is perfect and what is the point of any of the other ones? Fic readers are like omg someone has written a fic of my otp! Omg someone else has written a fic of my otp! omg they’re both amazing I’m going to read them both 16 times and drown in them. 

Fandom isn’t a competition, producing fanworks isn’t a competition either (listen I am aware this shit is difficult to actually take in okay I’M AWARE BELIEVE ME)  But I think if you love something enough that you have all these ideas for it and you want to write them you should write them. and then if you want to post them and share them with people you should do that too? 

I mean…Maybe you will post it and…maybe no-one will read it or like but….I mean atm you just don’t know? At the moment no-one can read it or like it or love it because it hasn’t been written yet?? So I can’t tell you that people will love it but I can tell you that no-one will while it’s stuck inside your head, you know? 

But, I don’t know, I suppose, if you can drag anything out of this quagmire of wiffle it’s that…If you care about something enough that you want to write it you should do that. At least try. Stick your pen on a piece of paper and see what happens. Maybe it goes nowhere and you can’t get through it. Maybe you write 10k in a night and fall in love. But just sort of hovering here in limbo all that’s going to happen is eventually that idea will fade away and maybe one day you’ll be sad that you didn’t just…try to see what might come of it? 

TL;DR: Write the thing. You have enough of a passion to want to write, don’t ignore that. Post the thing if you feel able to once you’ve written the thing. What’s the worst thing that can happen if you try?? 

the nurse who loved me

Say hello to the shrinking in your head:
you can’t see it, but you know it’s there, so don’t neglect it.

Sam walks into a bar.

There’s a hunt. Werewolves, maybe, or ghouls. He and Dean have been working the case and he’s still not sure which it is, which is kind of a worry. Either way—he knows what works. He sits at the bar and pops his neck, shrugs his shoulders, but it’s just out of habit. He’s not sore anymore, not tired. A relief, after the long months of feeling so shitty with the trials. He can have a beer now without puking, while he waits for Dean to get back from interviewing the sheriff, and hell, he’s going to indulge. Been long enough without.

The bartender’s tall—maybe as tall as Sam is. “What do you need?” he says, and he’s not smiling.

Sam’s dreaming. There’s a hunt, he thinks, and it’s something—it’s pulling at his attention. Angels, and he doesn’t know why he’s so scared of them, why there’s some kind of hollow yawning dread pulling open the pit of his stomach. He looks at Castiel and feels no warmth, feels nothing but pure skittering terror and he

Sam walks into a bar. The light’s dim, the bar long and dark and familiar. Bars are all the same, in the end, and he takes a stool close to the end, leans his elbows on the counter. He wants a drink. The bartender stands in front of him, silent, and Sam says, “Hey, just a pint of whatever’s on tap,” but the bartender doesn’t move. He’s tall. Maybe Sam’s age, or Dean’s. He frowns, sits up a little more. Thinks, maybe the guy didn’t hear him, and he says, “Hey, buddy?” because it pays to be polite even with assholes, and the bartender leans his hands on the counter, looks right into Sam’s eyes, and

Sam spreads his thighs wider, stretches out against the plush leather back of the armchair. Dean’s mouth is—god. He’s almost too sensitive, but the soft thorough cleaning he’s getting is just so good he can’t find it in himself to complain. Rough hands smooth up over his belly, pet over his hips, and when Dean goes to pull back Sam picks his head up off the chair back with an effort, cups the back of Dean’s head and runs his fingers through the soft short hair. “My turn, isn’t it,” he says, and he’s drowsy but he really is more than willing, only Dean picks his head up and licks his lips and grins, and maybe it’s not the wide pleased got-the-cream smile Sam’s used to but it’s pleased enough, and he says, “Nah, I’m just feeling greedy, Sammy,” and he leans in and kisses Sam, soft, quick enough that Sam finds himself leaning forward, wishing for more. Dean’s already zipping him up, though, neatening him away. Sam wishes he would look up. He wants to see Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t know why Dean isn’t

Sam walks into a bar and the bartender looks right at him. It’s like he was waiting. Sam sits at the bar and leans on his elbows, asks for a beer.

The bartender looks at him.

Sam drinks his beer, cold bitter at the back of his tongue, and the bartender looks at him. “What do you need?” the bartender says.

Sam puts his pint down and shrugs. “I’m good,” he says, and it’s the truth. Nothing hurts, and there’s a hunt, and Dean’s healthy and happy, and everything is as it should be. Not like this guy needs to know that, though.

“Of course,” the bartender says, slowly. He talks stiffly, awkwardly. “You are—happy.”

Sam frowns a little, though he smiles, too. “Yeah, buddy,” he says, and toasts the guy with his beer. “I’m good.”

There’s—blood, oh—oh, shit, there’s so much—blood purling out from between his fingers, a weird lucky shot and Dean’s crying out, yelling his name across the awful reeking basement, and Sam wavers, shocked, stares at the blood on his fingers for a weird moment thinking, he didn’t expect this, that this terrible dusty place and this stupid ghoul would be the end, after everything, and he falls to his knees and feels the blood warm against his chilled skin and thinks, Dean—

Sam walks into a bar. There’s a hunt. There’s something—wrong, maybe, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. The bartender is gripping hard onto the brass railing. “Whatever’s on tap,” Sam says, and the bartender looks up at him with weird grief on his face, something so vivid that Sam startles still, for a second, frozen half onto the bar stool, and the bartender says, “I am sorry, Sam Winchester,” and Sam thinks what, he thinks how do you and he also thinks why but then the bartender squeezes his eyes closed and bows his head and

There’s time missing. Miles go by and Sam isn’t—he doesn’t remember them. Dean’s worried, he can tell, even though all he gets when he talks about it is dismissal, lots of ‘oh, the trials,’ and ‘you just need more time to heal,’ and, well, Sam loves him but Dean talks a lot of bullshit, a lot of the time. He’ll crawl out of Dean’s bed and go take a shower and then blink at himself in the mirror, completely dressed and brushing his teeth, and have no idea what happened in the interim. He’ll go for a jog and not remember a thing. He looks at himself in the mirror and he’s okay, he recognizes himself, but sometimes, sometimes he’ll open his own eyes and there in the split second when his eyelids part his eyes spark unfamiliar and he thinks

Sam walks into a bar. There’s a hunt, he knows there is. He just—can’t remember the details, right now.

The bartender looks like he’s been crying, though Sam doesn’t notice until after he’s already asked for a pint, and by then it’s too late—he sits there, awkward, while the guy goes through the motions, pouring off the foam, setting the full glass carefully in front of Sam on a neat square coaster. “Thanks,” Sam says, trying to pass it off as normal.

“Do not thank me,” the bartender says, voice a deep scrape. He leans on the brass rail, right in front of Sam, looking into some middle distance. Sam takes an awkward sip—cold, bitter hops lingering in the back of the throat like sorrow, and it’s hard to swallow it down. The bartender closes his eyes. He says, “I am not sure of my course.”

Sam puts the glass down, cups his hands around the cold solidity of it. “Nobody is,” he says. The bartender blinks at him, and hell, Sam’s half-surprised himself, but this guy doesn’t expect him to be Agent Rose, or a hunter with the answers. They’re just two guys, talking.

“Do you not think—“ the bartender starts, and swallows. He folds his arms over his chest, standing stiff and straight. “I thought, always, that there must be a plan, for all of us. That there must be meaning. Now, I am not so sure.”

Sam shrugs. He and Dean have had this conversation, in various ways, half a dozen times. He always feels like he comes to a different conclusion. “I don’t know the answer to that,” he says, semi-honestly. “I think, all you can ever do is what you believe is right.” The bartender looks directly at him, and Sam shrugs, again. “I mean, what’s the alternative?”

There’s a pause, and the bartender nods. “Of course,” he says, but quietly, like he doesn’t mean for Sam to hear—or like it doesn’t matter, if he does. Sam sips his beer and the bartender nods, and meets his eyes. He seems taller, brighter. His shoulders square out and for a second Sam sees him—pure, strong. Beautiful, and that thought’s a surprise but the bartender earns it, somehow. He smiles at Sam and it’s—beautiful. He says, “Thank you, Sam Winchester,” and all Sam can see after that is light.

(read on AO3)

Not Ready

Marinette is pregnant.  It was an accident, a late night at a club where she got drunk and went home with someone, but it’s still there.  She’s pregnant.  At least according to the seventeen pregnancy tests she took.  Alya’s away, and Hawkmoth seems to be on vacation, so she’s not able to talk to anyone until after she’s been to the doctor to confirm it.

She’s pregnant.

So she goes to patrol that night, the first patrol with Chat since she took the tests, and cries on him for a while.  She’s not getting an abortion–she’s pro-choice, but can’t do it herself–and she still has to talk to the father.

But Chat’s there.  He comforts her, says he’ll be there for her whether the father is or not.  He lets her cry on his shoulder for hours, and patrol never actually gets done.  They decide to meet up tomorrow night, even though it’s not a patrol night, so they can talk after Marinette talks to the father.

Which doesn’t go well.  Actually, that’s an understatement.  The father is furious at her for being pregnant, wants her to get an abortion, and wants nothing to do with the baby if she has it.

So Marinette leaves in tears, and skips her classes that afternoon and goes immediately to their patrol spot to just sit and cry for hours, waiting for Chat.

Chat left an hour early for patrol, barely having allowed himself to wait that long, and finds Ladybug already on the roof.  She tells him about how it went with the father and starts crying all over again.

“I’ll be it’s father.”

“What?”

“A baby needs a father.  Mine was never around, and I know that’s messed me up.  So I can be this baby’s father.  I mean, if you want.”

“I…I’d like that.”

So they sit there for hours until Ladybug’s tears subside, holding onto each other.  When they decide it’s time to leave, Ladybug suggests they reveal their identities because “I am not going to the doctor as Ladybug, and I am not having Chat Noir take me there.”

So they reveal themselves, and are freaking happy that they are Adrien and Marinette, because that makes introducing themselves to their friends much easier.

The next morning, Adrien is sleep deprived and freaking out because he spent all night on the internet looking up everything about babies and pregnancy and “should I propose, Plagg?  Do you think she’ll expect me to?  What do babies eat?  Oh god, what if there’s more than one baby?”

(he’s also spent an insane amount of money on baby clothes and stuffed animals)

So when Nino calls to ask why he’s late for lunch, you really can’t blame him for blurting out:

“I’m not ready to be a father!”

“…what?”

“I’m not ready, Nino!  What if I’m as terrible a father as mine?  What if I kill it?  What if it hates me?  What if–”

“Adrien?”

“What?”

“A father?”

“Yes!  I’m not ready!”

“…who did you get pregnant?”

(you also can’t blame him for hanging up and not going to lunch after all because Marinette didn’t want to tell anyone yet and he almost blew it with the first person he talked to)

They tell their friends a few weeks later, saying that Adrien and Marinette got drunk and hooked up one night, and no they’re not together but they’re both going to be in this baby’s life.

Alya and Nino are thrilled and decide that they are going to be godparents and Alya announces it on the Ladyblog (Marinette and Adrien laugh later about how relevant a post that really was).

The pregnancy goes well.  Adrien does not, in fact, propose, though he does discuss it with Marinette, who decides that maybe in the future, but only if they actually have a relationship together.  They get an apartment together, and Marinette has to hide Adrien’s credit cards because he’s a stress shopper and “we really don’t need six cribs.  You need to send some of them back.”

Ladybug disappears around sometime around the third month, Chat Noir fighting akumas on his own and bringing her the butterflies after for purification.  Chat Noir assures the public that Ladybug is safe and sound, and that she’s only disappeared because there will be a new little bug in a few months, and, no, he will not comment on whether or not this bug is also a kitten.

(Alya freaks out because “Marinette, your baby will be the same age as Ladybugs!  They’ll go to school together!”)

Adrien freaks out at every ultrasound, crying and squeezing Marinette’s hand.  He buys her whatever food she’s craving, and sometimes Chat Noir will be found begging at the door of a closing shop because “Ladybug needs pickles and chocolate fudge can you please stay open just another minute?” and because these stores will usually let Chat Noir in but not Adrien.

(Chat Noir also can’t go more than half a block without people giving him baby supplies.  Sometimes he has to refuse because “Ladybug would not be happy if I came home with a seventh crib.”)

(This leads to the rumours that Ladybug and Chat Noir are having sextuplets, which Marinette finds hilarious.)

(Adrien is just relieved that these rumours aren’t true because one baby is stressful enough and it hasn’t even come yet.)

It’s around five months when Chat Noir almost dies in an akuma attack.  Marinette watches on TV and begs Tikki to let her transform to help, but it would be too dangerous for the baby, so all she can do is watch and cry.  Chat stumbles in the window a while later, barely conscious and bleeding all over the floor.  Ladybug cleanses the akuma and it heals Chat, and they both release their transformations as Marinette throws herself at him, crying.

“I almost lost you.  You have to be more careful, Chat.  I can’t lose you.”

Neither of them notice, at first, that she kisses him.  It seems natural.  He almost died.  She was upset.  So of course she’d kiss him.

Of course, they do notice, and both make things awkward for a few hours before they decide that maybe they should try this for real.

The baby comes a few days early, and Adrien was at a shoot on the other side of Paris when he got the call from Nino.  It would take hours to get there, hours he doesn’t have because Marinette is in labour and he isn’t there and he is seriously stressing out.

So he ducks into an alley and transforms and races across the rooftops.

When he reaches the hospital, the nurses and patients in the waiting give him weird looks but he ignores them because he has to find Marinette.

He barges into Marinette’s room with a “Marinette!  I’m here!” and doesn’t know why everyone turns to stare.

Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng glance between their daughter and the man who barged in, squinting and trying to put the pieces together.

The nurse who had been checking on a machine drops her clipboard.

Nino narrows his eyes and closes the book he had been trying to distract himself with, rising in a defensive stance.

Alya takes a picture.

And Marinette?  Marinette bursts into hysterical laughter.

“You’re an idiot.”

“What?  I got here as fast as I could.  The shoot was on the other side of town.  I–”

“Adrien.  You’re in costume.”

He looks down at himself and groans because he knew he forgot something when he jumped off the roof.  He releases the transformation and goes to the bed, deciding to pretend like it never happened and asking Marinette how she’s doing.

“That means you’re Ladybug,” Alya says, not going along with Adrien’s plan to ignore his mistake.  “Right?  Because Chat Noir hasn’t said that Ladybug’s baby is his, but he also hasn’t been subtle about the baby being his.”

“Can we talk about this later?” Marinette groans out as a contraction hits.  “Preferably when I don’t have a baby trying to rip its way out of me.”

“Fine,” Alya agrees.  “As long as I get an exclusive about Chat Noir and Ladybug’s baby.”

Hugo Michel Dupain-Cheng-Agreste came into the world a few hours later, by which point all of Paris knew Ladybug and Chat Noir’s identities (becuase Chat Noir running through a hospital screaming for Marinette Dupain-Cheng was not very subtle, and it was common knowledge that Marinette was having a baby with supermodel Adrien Agreste, so Chat Noir’s own identity wasn’t a stretch) and the section of the hospital has to be cornered off to keep out the cameras and the fans.

Gabriel Agreste comes to see them later in the day, to visit his grandson.  He takes his son aside before he leaves, apologizing for being such a horrible father.

“I’ll be better to him, if you’ll let me be in his life.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

But Gabriel doesn’t answer, instead handing a small brown box to his son.

“I am so sorry.  I can’t do this anymore, not when it means hurting my family.  I hope you can forgive me, and that you’ll listen to my explanation one day, but I understand if you won’t.  You don’t have to worry about this anymore.”

And with that, Gabriel was gone, leaving Adrien alone and confused in the hallway of the hospital.  He looked down at the box again, it was so familiar but he couldn’t figure out why.  Slowly, he opened it.  Inside sat a purple butterfly broach.

It’s a few months later before Ladybug and Chat Noir make an appearance again, chasing each other across the rooftops and laughing, stopping in alcoves to kiss.

The papers the next morning feature this:  Ladybug with her arms around Chat’s neck, beaming as he kisses her cheek.  A green sling around Chat’s body, one of his arms holding it to his chest, the other around Ladybug’s waist.  And a baby, tucked in the sling, a little head with cat ears sticking out.

All of Paris turned up a year later to the long awaited wedding between Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

REMINDER THAT THIS IS A FIC NOW

Title: Sun Shower

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,078

Rating: G

Warnings: none!!  

Summary: In which Dan wouldn’t normally be associated with a colour as bright as yellow, but it’s all Phil can notice when he sees him.

Author’s Note, yay: OOOOOOO MAN. HI!!!!!! wow, i am so sorry i dropped off the face of the earth in the fic world for so long AH!!! i’ve been in a pretty big writer’s block ever since the PBB so it’s been not so fun and i apologize BUT. BUT THIS WOW this is the first thing i’ve written in a long time that i really enjoyed and had a good time writing and felt good about when i was done!! so i hope y’all like it!! lemme know what you think if you like!! thank you!!! <3333

*a thing: if there’s ever anything you need me to tag, please please please let me know and I’ll take care of it!! Thank you bunches you’re a cute little flower <3*

~

Yellow is a colour associated with dewdrops, the way they bead over dandelions in the morning right as the sun’s coming up. Yellow’s associated with the sun too, with rays and beams and specs that float over grass and windshields of cars and the front steps of buildings. Yellow is the colour of this hoodie Phil’s had forever and he can never seem to grow out of it. It’s frayed at the sleeves and the drawstrings in the hood are missing. But it smells like yellow, like lemon soap and laying out in the grass too long, summer breeze managing to knit its way into the closely stitched thread.

Yellow’s not really a colour most people associate with Dan, but it’s one Phil likes to think about when he thinks about him.

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anonymous asked:

romione prompt: ron is nervous about leaving the aurors to start working at george's shop full time, but hemione talks him through it. thank you! :)

I know lots of people like Ron-as-a-baker headcanons so here is a little ficlet about that. I have baking on the brain thanks to GBBO… [AO3, for @hpshipweeks]

She wakes at two minutes to five to an empty bed and the smell of baking bread filling their small flat, so she shuffles into her slippers, yawning, and pads down the hallway to the kitchen. Sure enough, Ron is in there, silently kneading dough in just his pyjama bottoms. In the dim light of early dawn, she can see every muscle in his back outlined as he methodically pushes and pulls the bread. The sight fills her with longing and wonder, and she walks over, placing her hands on his shoulders and leaning her body into his. He pauses the kneading, and she feels rather than hears him let out a long breath.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks, her voice still husky from bed.

“Bit nervous,” he confesses.

“Don’t be,” she says, taking a step backwards. “You’ve done it all before, you know.” She waves her wand, and all the candles in the kitchen are suddenly alight, adding to the light from the sun’s early rays coming through their window. Down below them, the city is asleep, still, and she finds herself pitying all the people in it who will not be waking to Ron’s freshly baked bread.

“Not like this, I haven’t,” he says. He turns around, a worried frown on his face, but before she can say anything to soothe him, he smiles.

“What?”

“Nice slippers,” he grins.

“Shut up,” she says, trying to supress her own smile. They’re pink and fluffy and absolutely hideous, but also the most comfortable things in the world. He bought them for her for their last anniversary—he had to honour the memory, he had said, of the first nightclothes he’d ever seen her in. She’d remembered the fluffy pink dressing gown she’d taken to Hogwarts in her first year, remembered night-time wanderings accidentally discovering three-headed dogs and just how very annoying her fellow first years could be, and had laughed and laughed.

Now, Ron dumps the dough in a tin, wipes his hands on a spare tea towel, and comes to stand with her over by the window. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he says. “I was trying to be quiet.”

Hermione shakes her head. “You didn’t,” she says. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

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Clexa Fic Rec

So, I told @username9799 that I would recommend a few fics to read and then I thought, maybe others would like it too, so here they are : (they are not ordered by preference, its random)

IN Canon:

A Choice Made Differently by dreaming_wide_awake

Summary:  This is my take on what would’ve happened if Clarke hadn’t left Camp Jaha at the end of Season 2. I’ll warn you now, it is going to be a slow burn, no immediate jumping in with the Clexa relationship as it’s obviously going to take time to rebuild that trust.

Comments: This fic is amazing. It’s angsty in the beginning but the build up for Clexa is amazing AND the story line outside shipping is really well written as well. Lexa not only tries to mend her relationship with Clarke but with other characters as well which is something I really loved about this fic.

Shattering the Skies Above by halfalie

Summary: It was never supposed to be like this. Clarke was never supposed to stand in front of her, face battered, hands trembling, and eyes wide with anger and fear.Clarke was never supposed to make Lexa feel as though the girl was standing on cracked ice, so close to being submerged and drowned in freezing water.Clarke was never supposed to come back, but she had.And Clarke was certainly never supposed to announce her marriage to the Ice Queen.

Comments: ANGST. BIG FUCKING ANGST!!! Get ready. This one hurts my soul but it sooooo good.

Rise Into Ruin by Crazywisdom

Summary:  Post-2x16. She is tired, vengeful and she wants answers: that’s all that draws Clarke to Polis. But a new enemy on the horizon, cracks within the grounder hierarchy that threaten Lexa’s freshly-acquired charade of peace, and the reluctant desire to trust once more, makes her stay.

It Makes Thunder by pleasenthell

Summary:  “A unity ceremony is a marriage,” Octavia interrupted. She had been silent, standing next to Lincoln like a smaller, stoic compliment to her boyfriend.
Marcus blinked, “A marriage between who?”
“The Commander and someone of equal rank from this clan,” Lincoln stated. “She has to agree to it.”
“A diplomatic marriage?” Abby asked, looking at Marcus. She shook her head.
Raven piped up from her seat at the table, “That’s insane.”
“We don’t have anyone that could do that,” Marcus added.
“We do,” Bellamy nodded. His eyes fell on Clarke. “We have a princess.”

Alliances by Area_Monarch

Summary: Her mother just didn’t understand that things were different now. It wasn’t like the Ark, where a person’s life could be planned out safely. Where you had some idea of where you would end up the next day.Things change too rapidly here, for that.Clarke finds the only way to have peace is through a Union.

Alternate Universe:

I’ll Be Right Behind You/Take Me With You by K17L53

Summary: Lincoln is crashing with a ridiculously hot friend (Lexa) and Clarke is very single. Raven has an idea Clarke probably won’t approve of and for some reason, Lincoln goes along with it.or"My friends are dumb and wanna set us up and I AM SO SORRY"

Comments: This one starts out pretty cute and funny but don’t be fulled. Angst will happen and it hits hard for a while there.

Take Me to Church by scamp23

Summary: Clarke proposes to an almost stranger to piss of the homophobic church protesters, but she didnt expect the news to pick up the story, and she didnt expect to fall for the stranger.or
Life is pretty unexpected, sometimes all you need is a fake fiance, 2 ridiculous best friends and a really really pushy news reporter, and all your dreams will come true.

Comments: This one is still in the early stages but the writing is a great and it is setting out to be a really amazing fic.

A Soccer Love Story by onebigroughdraft

Summary: Meet Lexa Woods: star of the U.S. Women’s National Team, trying to lead her team to another Olympic gold medal. Meet Clarke Griffin: new team doctor, and the only one capable of turning the world-class athlete into a stuttering, clumsy fool.It’s a soccer love story, ya’ll.

The Heart is the Strongest Muscle by Danistalley12

Summary:  Clarke’s promise to improve her life after a break up leads her to a nearby gym and a very beautiful brunette stranger.

Comments: One of  the first Clexa AU’s I have ever read and the reason why I am currently obsessed with Clexa AU’s.

Lover in Low Light by Chrmdpoet

Summary: "You’re never going to love anyone the way you loved her. That kind of love, it only happens once in a lifetime, so if you’re waiting to feel that way again, I think you’re always going to be waiting.“orFive years after their relationship’s end, college sweethearts Lexa and Clarke find themselves in the same city again. Now, they are different people with different lovers and different lives, but neither ever fully let the other go. Will what they once had still be all they are looking for, or is it finally time to truly let go and move on?

Comments: Chrmdpoet wrote this, that should be reason enough.

The Three Truths by transientpermanence

Summary: There were three truths to Clarke Griffin, Lexa knew:     Meeting her their sophomore year of college was a stroke of mere chance.     Becoming her friend by the end of their junior year was an active choice.     Falling in love with her by the time graduation rolled around…falling in love with her was an inevitability.

Comments: AHHHHHHHHHHHH that’s all I have to say about this one.

A Business of the Heart by Tanagariel

Summary: Lexa Woods inherited her family company after her parents passed away, however, in order for Lexa to have total control of her company she has to be married.The solution?Her best friend Clarke proposes to be her wife so Lexa can have the control back. Clarke and Lexa will fullfill the terms of the contract stipulated by the board and everything will be back to normal, or at least that was the initial plan, that is, until they start to develop romantic feelings for each other.

Comments: This one will make your heart tingle with feels.

Everything You Are by awriteofthings

Summary:  Doctor au. Lexa is new to Ark Hospital and quickly becomes attracted to fellow doctor, Clarke Griffin, but unfortunately for her the trauma surgeon is not interested in a relationship. (A Grey’s Anatomy-esque fic because why not?)

You’re Fired (So Yeah, You win) by LaFlashdrive

Summary:  The one where Clarke draws Lexa’s name for the office Secret Santa, not knowing Lexa is the President of the company she works for. The gag gift she gets her is a bit… unconventional. A dildo. It’s a dildo.

Comments: I need to re-read this one. It’s so fucking good!!! It’s not a Christmas fic so don't’ think it is.

When Love Becomes The Reason by Clarkesquad

Summary: Clexa Fake Dating AUThe one where it’s not a love story, it’s a story of a girl who needs a plus one for her brother’s wedding (and a girl who needs to be at that wedding).Spoilers: It’s a love story. It’s always a love story.

Comments: You just NEED to read this one.

She’s Got Me Up All Night (All I’m Singin’ Is Love Songs) by mostlyunstablefangirl

Summary:  tumblr prompt – "so we’ve never met but our showers are on opposite sides of the same apartment wall so sometimes we’re showering at the same time and we sing duets”

Comments: This is like the CUTEST fic I have ever ready. I was smiling all through out this one.

She’s Got Herself a Girl (and I wanna make her mine) by billet_doux

Summary:  Lexa Woods is known to men and women alike in the New York area as the go-to woman when relationships go downhill. Successful businesswoman by day, Lexa takes on a new persona at night; one of an amoral, lecherous woman who will take you on the date from hell and send you running back to the arms of your ex.

Comments: This one is still in the beginning, Clarke and Lexa only even had one brief encounter but oh the set up for this is amazing This is gonna be one of those rip your heart out kind of fics. I can feel it.

Sacrifice by ArshuSyed

Summary:  Peace through political marriage. Will the marriage last when one has already given her heart away?

Comments: This one kinda happens in canon world but not with what happened in canon. Its really great as well. So worth the read.

And now, completely unrelated to Clexa. If anyone here likes the idea of Racen and Lexa, please go read

Potential by CorvusCorvidae

Summary:  Octavia finds a new client for Raven; while Lexa is looking for someone to show off to her family.

Comments: I have just been completely obsessed with this fic. I kinda ship Ravexa as a side ship but this fics UGH SO GOOD. I am just here crossing my fingers for people to start liking Raven and Lexa ore so I can getmore fics as good as this one.

FIC: Smells like vanilla

Title: Smells like vanilla
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kagami/Kuroko
Summary: Kagami is certain he won’t be able to look at milkshakes the same way ever again. 
Word Count: 1 220
A/N: So I was computerless for 4 days and on Sunday I was bored, but I had my tablet so I wrote porn, and it’s the most self-indulging piece of crap I ever created. why do you people let me do this…

Keep reading

elizabethkween  asked:

Lizzington but only cause I don't know your other ships/fandoms lol

Thanks for coming through, homie. I need good vibes for these two!

(also pls see the tags for my other ships if anyone is at all interested)

who is the big spoon/little spoon
They mix it up. But Red loves feeling Liz pressed against his back with her hand over his heart. So he tries to be little spoon as often as possible. In turn, Liz likes to rest her head against his neck and tuck her legs up behind his, she also likes that he allows himself to be vulnerable with her like that.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity
They really like teaching each other things. Red teaches Liz phrases from different languages and tries to teach her how to cook. Liz loves how focused he gets on the task at hand and how patient he is with her. Liz teaches him to solve the Rubik’s cube (then they compete to see who can do it the fastest, when that gets old they compete to see who can do the coolest pattern and if the other can match it) and how to appreciate the music she likes. He’ll let her teach him anything if it means they can spend time together and have one more thing in common.

who uses all the hot water in the morning
Since Liz really loves to push it when it comes to leaving the bed and Red’s warm body in the morning she has mastered the art of the quick shower. Red would never be so inconsiderate to her as to use all the hot water. When they shower together though, it gets super long. Red insists on washing her hair and her body and boy does he love to take his time? So only when they shower together do they really use it all up

what they order from take out
Don’t even ask Liz about this because she’ll just go off on a tangent over how Red always has the most bizarre restaurants at the ready, with equally bizarre orders for them, and he always orders for her and she ALWAYS loves the food he gets her but it drives her insane cause just for once she’s like to normally call up her regular Chinese place and normally order sweet and sour pork and normally ask him what he wants but NO. She’s dating Raymond ‘oh Lizzy you’ll love this little bistro’ Reddington

what is the most trivial thing they fight over
Uhm, see above answer? She sometimes makes fun of him for being too posh and pretentious and he gets pouty. He asks her time and time and time again to please close the caps and lids on all the bottles in the shower, especially the toothpaste but she never listens (her argument is that he never lets her leave the bed at a decent time, always snuggling more into her and holding onto her more tightly whenever she tries to leave, so then she has to shower quickly and has no time to replace caps and lids, but they both know that it’s not just his fault)

who does most of the cleaning
Team effort! Liz dusts and wipes (Red loves to see her stretch to reach the high places). Red mops and sweeps the floor (Liz loves to look at his fine ass as he’s bent over). They take turns choosing the music to clean to. 

what has a season pass in their DVR
Red does not own a television and hasn’t followed a series since 1983, so this one goes to Liz. She snuggles up to him while he reads on the couch and binge watches whatever has the most episodes. It’s mostly trash TV and sometimes he’ll make offhanded comments that always makes her laugh.

who controls the netflix queue
Please see previous answer heh

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working
No one. Red fixes things. He loves working with his hands. When he can’t fix it he flies someone in from god knows where to fix it. If they can’t fix it, he buys a new version of whatever is broken. He usually fixes it though.

who leaves their stuff around
Liz does. She kicks off her shoes at the door every night so there’s usually like 4 pairs littering the entryway. She tosses her jackets and scarves over chairs and couch backs. Mail is everywhere. So, when they’re at her apartment, Red patiently puts things away where they belong and sorts her mail. But when they’re at a safe house of his, Red leaves everything where she put it, cause it reminds him of her when she’s not there. He obviously returns everything when they relocate, but he likes having her disarray with him when she’s not.

Inversely, Red’s things are always in their correct places. Ties rolled up and placed neatly in a drawer (it’s also colour coded, surprise). Hats in boxes and stacked. Jackets and coats and waistcoats on hangers in the closet. His shoes are in neat rows under his jackets. Liz thinks it’s cute how pedantic he is about it - maybe that’s why she loves flinging her things all over his space. To give it some life.

who remembers to buy the milk
Red doesn’t drink milk that often, but he likes keeping tabs on Lizzy’s grocery needs so he hired someone to deliver the necessities when things get dire. But mostly Liz pops into the grocer’s whenever she knows she needs something. (she never takes Red because he takes FOREVER and buys tons of unnecessary things. “Indulge a little, Lizzy” is all he says and she rolls her eyes)

who remembers anniversaries 
Red is the master of remembering anniversaries, even though his life has been lived outside of time for so long, he always remembers his mother’s birthday, as well as his father’s. He remembers his first wedding anniversary and the day he found out his wife was pregnant. He remembers his daughter’s birthday and most of her milestones. He remembers when he found Dembe and also the day he graduated. He remembers the day that everything went to hell. Every year on the anniversary of his family’s deaths he goes to the nearest temple/church/cathedral… anywhere quiet really and sits for hours remembering them. His life with them, and what it could have been. 

So it makes sense that he remembers the date of the day he and Lizzy met and re-met. When she first kissed him. When she first invited him to stay the night. When she first told him she loved him. There’s no concrete date for the start of their relationship he thinks so he just cherishes all these dates and does something special or each of them. Liz learns to catch on quickly enough. 

She mostly remembers the times he proved to her how unconditionally he loved her. Coming out of the box, surrendering on bended knee in the park, shooting his way through dozens of men to get to her, abandoning everything to help her survive. She treasures those ones, even when they’re not very pleasant to remember sometimes, and always makes sure he knows how much she loves him on those days. And that she would always, always do the same for him.