steam stack

“one of us has to get out of bed to make pancakes and it’s not going to be me ok just go and bring me nourishment”

for @cupcakecana bc 1) she is an actual cupcake and 2) she wanted happy things so here are happy things -3-

It is a vicious attack that wakes him. First a cold foot to his thigh, and then an unbearable weight on top of him. Natsu grunts into the mattress and drudgingly lifts his head to save himself from certain death by suffocation. 

“Food…” Lucy’s breath tickles his ear as she clutches at him like a spider monkey, her voice first thin and whiny and then suddenly rising to a volume that–in Natsu’s humble opinion–shakes the entire bed. “Natsu. Feed me.”

“Lu,” Natsu groans, still half asleep, “It’s the middle of the night. Lemme sleep.”

“Nuh uh.” She doesn’t say anything more, but she doesn’t have to. Because she bites into his earlobe instead. 

With a cry, Natsu shoots upright and pins her to the bed. She grins up at him sleepily, and he isn’t sure if he should chide or kiss her. But then her stomach rumbles, and she makes a very pitiful face, and Natsu knows his fate is sealed. No way he can refuse that

Lucy blinks up at him innocently. “Feed…us…”

“You sound like a monster,” Natsu informs her before releasing her arms and hopping off the bed. He receives a pillow to the head which he doesn’t bother blocking. Laughing to himself, he leaves the room. If he has to make pancakes, he’ll make sure they are enough to soothe his woman. A monster has nothing on her. Natsu grins. 

Natsu’s pancakes are messy and not very pretty, but they are always good. (“I cook with love,” he’ll say, “And love tastes best freestyle!” To which Lucy will always roll her eyes and point out he isn’t making any sense. He says he is.)

Lucy awaits him with outstretched arms, a big smile on her face. “That smells great. My saviour!” 

“I hope I get more than that title for this,” Lucy’s saviour says, wiggling his brows as he presents her with an entire stack of steaming pancakes. 

Lucy’s eyes glint with promise, but then she snorts. “You can have a pancake.”

“Did you say one?!” 

“Maybe two.”

“Didn’t you say ‘feed us’?” Eh?” He nudges her side as he slips back under the blanket and she places the plate between them. He enthusiastically grabs a pancake, but almost chokes on it when he sees the expression on her face.

“I didn’t mean you,” she tells him, suddenly quieter, and bites her lip. Half a pancake hangs out of his mouth as he scrunches his brows, slowly processing her words.

His eyes drop to her stomach. Then they grow wide. He lifts them back up to fix them on hers with a silent question.

“It certainly explains all the late night food cravings,” she mumbles with a small smile. 

Natsu doesn’t say anything. Slowly, he plucks the pancake from his chin and places it back on the plate. And even slower, pure joy creeps onto his face. 

“Another?” he asks, and Lucy can’t hold back a wide, teary smile as she nods, and keeps nodding. “We’re gonna have another baby!” 

Natsu isn’t sure what to do first, but his body is faster than his mind. He squeezes her against him, pressing kisses to her head, before releasing her with the widest grin possible. Almost ceremoniously, he takes the plate and offers it to her. 

“You can have them all,” he tells her very seriously, knowing by the twitch to her lips that she can barely hold back laughter.

“Why thank you,” she says with a bow of her head, pecking his cheek and then rolling up a pancake to heartily bite into it. Natsu watches her eat (and eat and eat), and when she is done, Lucy grins. “This one definitely has your appetite.” 

anonymous asked:

How would BTS confess to you after crushing for a long time, Im not sure if this is a reaction or what but I just wanna see their cofessions (I really think yoongi will be really straight forward hhsuah) btw I have a crush on your writings

now you’re just making me blush. thanks! you’re pretty right about yoongi by the way…

note: i needed to use pronouns but i wanted to make it as gender neutral as possible. i’ve used _p_ when a pronoun is required. hope you dont get too confused. 

maknae line here.


You yawn and stretch as you pad through the quiet apartment. You had had quite a late night the earlier day, what with the boys coming over for an unplanned fiesta and getting quite drunk; the night ending with most of them staggering back to the dorms or the comparatively sober Yoongi dragging them home. Then, of course, there was Jin.

He’d been quieter than usual, and had hardly touched more than one cup. For god’s sake, he’d barely laughed when Jimin nearly fell over trying to imitate the time Jungkook was insanely terrified of girls. It was strange, and this unusual mildness from your best friend did not help with how sleepy you’d been feeling ever since the alcohol was in your system. It was only obvious you would drop off to sleep, and wake up this morning with a stiff neck, courtesy of the couch you’d passed out on.

You sigh with relief as you surveyed the living room. Jin had done you a solid and cleaned up the aftermath from Hurricane Seven Drunk Idiots before leaving the apartment, long after you’d fallen asleep. A small smile grows on your lips as you peel off a post-it from the back of your couch.

You can thank me later. You roll your eyes at the absent Jin, then read the rest of the bright, pink paper. But, first, go to the kitchen.

You frown, then jog to the kitchen. Breakfast? Did Jin make me breakfast?
Honestly, you wouldn’t mind. Jin’s cooking would be a great start to any day. But, when you get to the kitchen, you’re disappointed to find empty counters and a wiped clean kitchen table. What, no steaming stacks of golden pancakes and whipped cream?

You bring your hands to your hips and with an air of despondency, prepare to trudge back to your couch and go back to sleep.

Then, you notice the fridge.

On the fridge door, more of the obnoxiously pink post-its have been stuck, each bearing a letter unmistakably written in Jin’s perfect hand. Together, they spelt out ‘open me’ in huge bold letters.

Curiously, you step forward and tug the door open.

It’s a riot of pink inside. Pink post-its have been stuck on every surface available. No produce or packet had been spared. Already laughing, you plucked a post-it that had been attached to a banana. I find you a-peel-ing, it declared.

You could almost hear Jin’s wheezing laugh in the distance.

There were more. On further inspection, you find a tin of canned pineapples whose post-it said: I pine for you. A whole wheel of cheese, wrapped in cellophane, said:  I’m not trying to be cheesy, but I think we gouda get together. A post-it on a bottle of olives declared: Olive you.

You bite your lip as you read the rest, your laughter dying down as you slowly realise the meaning behind all this. Hesitantly, you find your phone and call the culprit.

“Did you see it?” It’s the first thing Jin greets you with. His voice is easy, but a hint of nervousness sneaks over the phone.

“Yes, I did.”

A pause. Then, quieter: “And?”

You flicked at the cheese post-it. “This isn’t even gouda cheese.”

A noise of annoyance echoes through the speaker. “The store downstairs didn’t have any– _____! I’m trying to confess to you!”

You bite back a laugh and sink into a seat, your heart singing. “I know, Jin. I know. And-” You hold the phone a bit closer to your ear, a small blush dusting your cheeks. “I’m glad you did it like this.”

Trust Jin to confess using produce puns.

Originally posted by bwiseoks


“Yoongi? What are–”

You barely finished your sentence before Yoongi wordlessly swept past you into your apartment with a fierce look of determination.

You stood at the door, mouth half open in middle of your incomplete enquiry.“O…kay?” You shut the door after a moment of confusion, then follow him to the living room, where he stands with an air of sufferance. All you can see is his hunched shoulders and lithe back facing you. “Yoongs? What’s–”

“What-” He raised a hand to rub at his chin, slowly turning on one heel. “is happening to me?”

You blink. “I’m not sure I–”

“Because I’ve heard about this before, you know. The heart fluttering and the violins playing and the light pouring from the heavens and stuff. All I can think about all day is dates and holding hands and -for god’s sake- pets we could own together.”

Yoongi rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “And when I tell Jimin, he says I’m in love.” He moved his hands to his hips in defeat. “Love!” 

He paused, probably for a breather after that endless tirade, but before you could gather your thoughts long enough to speak coherently, he sighed and folded his arms against his chest. “I thought it was ridiculous, but then…today– today I was in the studio supposedly working on something for the album–” He raised his eyes to yours, and the sincerity in them send a little shoot of surprise down to your bones. “And I realized that I was writing a love song. It wasn’t even lyrics, but– but it reminded me of you. All I could think of was the way you call me Yoongs or how glad I am to see you when I come back from tour or–  or how much I loved you.”

Yoongi bit his lower lip, then shrugged helplessly. “Then I had to come and see you. And tell you all this.” He sighed and raised his fingers to his temples, closing his eyes. “You don’t have to answer, especially if you don’t feel the same way. But I had to tell you this…Because it’s the first time I’ve felt this way.”

You realise your mouth is hanging open and shut it, then debate for a moment before walking over to Yoongi. You take hold of his hands and thread your fingers through his, bringing your nose close to his so you can make sure he sees you while you replied. You grinned when you see him blush just a little bit. “Funny. I’ve been feeling this way quite a bit recently too.”

Originally posted by allforbts


“So,” Hobi bounced into the couch and passed you the bowl of buttery, delicious smelling popcorn before settling in himself. “There’s this person I like.”

Your hand froze on the remote you were just putting down after pressing play. The loud sounds of the action movie Hobi had picked out began assaulting your eardrums. “Oh?”

Hobi hummed in agreement. You fix your eyes on the screen, pretending that the cheesily dramatic dialogue was the only thing on your mind right now. Trying your best to sound only mildly interested, “Do I know them?”

He shrugged and reached out for a handful of popcorn. “Maybe. But once you do, you can’t forget them. They’re amazing. They’ve got this laugh, I swear it could cure humanity. They’ve got the softest hands and the kindest eyes, and sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever like someone this much again.” Hobi stopped midmotion. “But there’s this problem.”

Heart racing as fast as the artillery guns on screen, you swallow. “Oh?”

Hobi placed his chin into the palm of his hand. “I haven’t told them yet. I don’t know how to.”

You realize he’s asking you for advice. “You…haven’t told them?”

“No. But I want to.” Hobi sat up and searched around for his phone. “Should I text them?” He held the phone up and waved it at your face.

You swallow and tear your eyes away from the instrument of doom back to the raging battle on TV. “Sure.”, you said, struggling to sound nonchalant. “Text them.”

Hobi sat back and raised his phone to his face. You half expected him to ask you what exactly he should say to confess his love to someone else (you didn’t think you would survive that) before he put his phone down barely a few seconds after he’d begun to text.

You were about to ask him what was wrong (not that you were hoping that something was wrong), just when your phone pinged.

Almost absentminded, you swipe at your phone languidly. One new text. Just three letters. An almost insignificant ‘hey’.

But it was from Hoseok. And that made all the difference.

You looked up at Hobi, who hid a close-lipped and knowing smile behind a few fingers as he judged your reaction.

You turned red and squeaked, barely able to form words. “Oh.”

Originally posted by jaayhope


You smile as you spot Namjoon pacing across the steps of the public library where he’d asked you to meet him, a lanky but gorgeous figure making its way back and forth on the marble steps.

You bounded up the few steps and sneaked up behind him. “Be careful, or you’ll pace a hole through the marble stairs.”

Namjoon yelped and jumped nearly a foot in the air. What seemed to be little squares of blue paper flew out of his hands and all around the two of you, creating a mini blue snow snowstorm.

Namjoon whipped around and froze. “______! You scared m–”  He stopped mid-sentence and stared in horror at his feet, where most of the blue papers had settled. Flashcards, you realised with growing interest.

Obviously.” You rolled your eyes and crouched, preparing to collect the flashcards.

“No, don’t–”

But the damage was already done. For the very first card you picked off the ground itself told you what Namjoon had been struggling to tell you ever since he knew.

The cards were written all over in his scrawling handwriting, the marking of a genius in every stroke and curve. But the words the cards bore caught your attention, they set the blood rushing to your face.

- tell _____ about _p_ hair, how soft it looks and how badly you want to be the one who could run his hands through it whenever he wanted 

- tell ____ about adorable you think it looks when it gets cold and _p_ face turns red 

- tell ____ how much you want to be the one _p_ can come home to after a long day at work

- tell _____ how much you want to hold _p_ and tell _p_ you love _p_ instead of just standing by and imagining it

There was more, nearly hundreds of these scribbled out on nearly half a dozen or more little blue cards, now in your hands. You laugh when you see a small scrawl in the corner of one card, reminding Namjoon to ’maybe kiss ____?’

You look up and blink, realising there are tears in your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me straight away, you dork?”

He swept a tear away from the corner of your eye with the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t think I could.”

You shake your head, a smile stretching itself on your lips. “And…are you going to maybe kiss me now?”

A grin matching your own settles on his face. “I’m going to definitely kiss you now.”

Originally posted by rapnamu

maknae line here

Morning Sunshine ~ Alyadrien Drabble

idk i decided to write at least one (1) thing everyday this month and there needs to be more alyadrien in this world so have a drabble thats probably a lil ooc but ive never written alya in a relationship so this was new!!! This is for the Rarepair Queen™ and light of my life @larvesta who deserves the world

i got distracted by these so it took like three hours to write this pls enjoy

“Morning, Sunshine.”

Alya awoke to a soft prodding at her shoulder and the smell of fresh pancakes. She cracked an eye open, watching Adrien slowly open their curtains with one hand, the other balancing a plate stacked with steaming pancakes. “Mm?”

Adrien turned, his smile bright and wide as he set the pancakes down on their bedside table. “Good morning, dear.”

Dear?” Alya snorted, rolling away from him and pressing her face into her pillow.

The mattress shifted as Adrien perched on the edge, his fingers skimming her exposed shoulder. “Yes, dear. Don’t like it?”

“It’s not…. disgusting.” Alya mumbled half-heartedly, her body still craving the sweet release of sleep.

“I can’t tell if that’s approval or a complaint.” he chuckled softly, a soft tickle touched her ear as he pressed his lips to it.

“It’s too early for kisses.” she pressed the heel of her palm against his face, pushing him away.

“Is it too early for pancakes?” his tone was teasing, as if he knew the mention of food would rouse her.

He was wrong.

“Come on, Al, I’m bored.” he leaned closer, his breath tickling her skin as he pressed a soft kiss to the space where her ear met her neck.

“You’re not bored, you just want kisses.” she finally fully opened her eyes and turned to him, catching green eyes framed by golden lashes.

He snorted, his lashes dipping as he pressed another kiss to her cheek. “Sue me. I want to kiss my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend doesn’t want kisses until she brushes her teeth.” her protests were empty. Adrien’s morning kisses were the only reason she bothered to open her eyes every morning.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t mind.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

She finally smiled, pressing an affectionate kiss to the corner of his lips.

He beamed at her, brighter than the sun shining through the gap in their curtains. “Have I ever told you you have the loveliest smile in Paris?”

“Shut up.” she kissed him before swinging her legs over the edge of bed.

Adrien swept her up before her feet could touch the ground, his lips against her forehead.

“What’s this for?” she tightened her grip on him.

“Floor’s cold? I like you extra when your hair’s all messy? You’re cute and also my girlfriend?” he rattled them off, his smile too wide for 9 in the morning.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek as he set her on their kitchen table. Alya watched gather his pancake ingredients, his job of waking her complete.

She sighed softly. “Pretty good way to wake up if I do say so myself.”

He winked at her.

writing properly? i dont know her

Nurseydex Week - Day 7 - Future Nurseydex

Call It What You Want

A nurseydex fic in 7 small parts, told over the 7 days of nurseydex week. This is the last one! Nurseydex week has been a blast, and I’ve loved seeing everyone’s fics - there are some mad talented writers in this fandom! Anyway, thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy this final part.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

Part 7 - Double Date

The air in Annie’s is warm and familiar, blanketing Will as he takes a sip of his coffee. He nestles the cup in his hand as he gazes out the window, watching as busy college students hurry to class. Across from him, Derek sits, perusing the menu.

“I can’t believe the menu’s still exactly the same,“ he chuckles, flipping it over in his hand.

“And you ordered the exact same thing you always got,” Will teases, a smirk on his lips, “from when we’d have our coffee dates here.”

“I wouldn’t call those dates, William,” Derek replies, rolling his eyes fondly, “we just argued the whole time about the news.” He brandishes the menu in his hand and aims it at William. “And you ordered the same thing you always ordered too, so don’t try and take the high ground here.”

Will grins, sinking back into the booth with a sigh. The scent of freshly brewed coffee, maple syrup, air freshener, and some other distinctly Annie’s smell that he can’t quite place, brings him back to his college days, only six years ago from now, but still so distant. From the absent expression in Derek’s eyes, he can tell that Derek’s being brought back too.

Not everything’s the same, though. The seat covers were replaced – once a bright, plastic red, now a faded blue. The scratch marks on the booths have been polished away, and the coffee is significantly better than the often too bitter or too milky concoction they’d consumed at Annie’s during their time at Samwell. Yet, despite the differences, it still feels like a second home.

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Cinders - Chapter 13/36

Originally posted by icantloseyou

All Chapters

SUMMARY: You finally find out why you were abandoned under the pile of rubble all those years ago by a crew you’d felt to be your family. 

WC: 2548

Sources indicate that the fire was just another addition to their crime spree. The Cinders are known to be wanted in France for the disappearance of numerous priceless artworks from the Louvre, as well as in the United Kingdom due to stint on the crown jewels and the looting of Pompeii’s Roman treasures in Geneva. With only their aliases known to police, the appearance of Ash and Sparks in our city has raised border control concerns; with all routes leaving and entering the city cut off indefinitely. All flights will remain grounded, and our borders are being tightened on the land, air and sea. The Cinders are known to be armed and extremely dangerous. Anyone with information is urged to call Los Santos police on-’

Ray lets out an audible groan as your pictures flash across the screen, throwing his arms up in the air in irritation before standing to stalk around the space. You don’t move, still leaning your elbows on your knees as you watch the news, relieved to take in the poor and grainy visuals provided. “That’s it” exclaims Ray, pulling his shoulders up in a prolonged and comic shrug; “we can never show our faces again.”
“Don’t be ridiculous” you shoot back, stretching out your limbs with a sigh before standing and facing your partner.
“I’m not being ridiculous.”
“Yes, you are” you say pointing at him; “this is you being ridiculous.”

“You’re being awfully mean to the man that gifted you the ability to walk” he pouts, glaring at you half-heartedly. “Har har” you tease, kicking him playfully in the shins, “you’re awfully paranoid for the god of legs.”
“Is that a sex thing?” asks Jack, craning her head from around the kitchen, peering at the crew as they huddle around the TV in one of the many living spaces. “He wishes!” giggles Michael, sniggering into his hand and Gavin squeals in delight. “I do wish” Ray claims, eyes wide as he considers the possibilities. “Well, put it back in your pants and come and get something to eat” jokes Jack as she brings through a stack of steaming pizza boxes, placing them on the bar that stretches across the right side of the room.

On queue your stomach rumbles as your eyes dart to Jeremy, of who is always watching you, inching his way towards the pizza and hoping to get the first pick. “Don’t even try” you threaten, slowly lowering yourself into a braced stance; his lips pressing into a thin line. “Too late!” he cries, running for the bar, but with both legs now fully operational your body launches forward, leapfrogging over his back as you race for the boxes; yelling triumphantly as you swipe the pizza he had reached for and chomp on it in victory.

“That it” he sighs, regaining his balance, “you and that fucking leg are gonna be the death of me.” He snatches at the box you’re holding, but you leap upwards, holding it above your head and jumping into the air with a strong push of your cybernetic attachment. “I’m gonna starve!” he wails, head in his hands as you giggle, continuing to nibble on your slice.
“It’s pretty impressive” admires Gavin, motioning towards the faint glowing and wires, but you shrug; “eh, keeps me going.”
“But why did you decide to get it?”

His question shocks you, your mouth freezing as pizza hangs from your lips. Lowering your food, you place it back down, casting a confused glance at Ray whose expression mirrors your own. “I don’t know what you mean”, you admit, head shaking slightly; but Gavin powers on, oblivious to the way the atmosphere was beginning to stick to your lungs. “Like, what went through your heads when you guys decided to go cyber?”
“I dunno, a fucking wall?”

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inuy21  asked:

“Oh, don’t mind me. Just enjoying the view.” or “Well, well. My night just got better.” Both?

Good news is: I used both. Bad news is: I didn’t even get to the smut yet when this was supposed to be a nsfw prompt.

EDIT: Now with a title and fully edited and tagged, lmao

Too Tired For This Shit

Some (maybe one or two) of you might notice that Breme Mac Tir is my Warden. Yes, you’re right. But in her worldstate she will also be my Inquisitor and when I was figuring out who she’d romance (Cullen, of course, crossing my mind because I’m nothing if not predictable) I decided that Iron Bull would be an absolutely glorious contrast because Breme has a lil secret: she’s my asexual OC. Since exploring myself, I’ve explored a lot with Breme and now she’s very near and dear to my heart. :3

Words: 2,683 words

Rating: Teen and up

Warning: there’s a naked lady, not much else yet

Breme wanted a bath. Desperately. She’d thought of little else over the course of the long day. Ever since she rode back into Skyhold. Ever since she had been sidetracked and yanked in every which direction from the moment she dismounted. She could feel the grime grating against her skin underneath the armor, felt the grime as she wiped her face. Breme was miserable but she never had the time.

As she trudged away from the War Room late in the evening, she hardly had the energy to be excited over the prospect of bathing anymore. She’d have to climb to her quarters in the tallest tower. She’d have to ring for the staff. They’d have to move her tub from her closet, boil enough water for her, bring it back up to her, then—Flames! Maybe at this point, she should just towel the worst of the dirt off her skin with the little washbasin on her dresser. It would be faster albeit less satisfying. Then, at least, she could fall into bed and get a full night’s rest before the hectic day started all over again tomorrow. After the weeks of travel, sleep in a real bed sounded better than anything. If it was worth the trouble, she could always call for a bath on the morrow.

Breme had all but decided she was going to be lazy tonight after all, forgo comfort for sleep. It took all her concentration to not fall over as she climbed the steps. She was making the right choice.

She smelled it before her head cleared the railing—the springy scent of rosemary lingering with mint and sweet honeysuckle—and then spied the blessed sight over the rails. Her large claw-footed tub stood in the center of the room, filled with steaming water. A stack of fluffy white towels sat on her bed, a neatly folded note atop them. Beside it was her bath salts and a sponge, waiting for her to finally use them after what felt like forever.

Breme half ran to it and snatched the parchment up—who had done this? Was it the Iron Bull? Upon the paper was a slim, elegant script that was definitely not her lover’s looping scrawl. After trading letters for ten years, she knew it all too well.

               You deserve this, my dear. Enjoy.

Laying the note aside, Breme chewed her lip, a wave of guilt washing over her. Her father was many despicable things, but he seemed to always be there when she needed him most. Loghain must have been listening to her griping all the way to Skyhold. He must have found some way to coordinate with her advisors so the water would still be hot when she returned from their meeting. He went out of his way to do a sweet thing for her…Maybe she was too hard on him. She made a sheepish mental note to thank Loghain later and try to be kinder to him while he stayed with her.

But, Maker’s breath, he was right. She did deserve this. She stripped without another thought and threw her soiled riding clothes in a frumpy pile on the floor.

Breme poured her salts and oils into the still steaming water and when she reached an arm in to stir it, she shivered, a small moan escaping her. This would feel Maker sent. She eased one leg in and then another, grinning as gooseflesh rose across her skin. It was blessedly hot and soothing and Breme wished to savor each delicious moment.

Until the blasted bedroom door opened and closed with a hard snap.

Breme froze, eyes darting to the towels she’d left five feet away on the fucking bed, much too far out of her reach. Why hadn’t she grabbed one to keep near her? Stupid!

And who the fuck was coming after her now?!

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anonymous asked:

ok but while im here i might as well request something ahahah. what abotu a cute scenario with kuroo and tsukki where their s/o eats the guys' favorite food in front of them ? maybe because they had an argument and she's really childish or idek adn they like chase her around omg so cute aaahh

I feel like I maybe made this less fluffy by accident, but I hope you like it anyway. Thanks for your patience!

To any onlooker, they’re a perfect couple; hands clasped tightly in each other’s, shoulders leaning in and bumping in hidden multitudes, and their cheerful smiles beaming a sunflower aura around them.

Kuroo supposes, grudgingly, that you are perfect. But sometimes, like today, you’re just a little piece of shit, and the hidden smirk behind the twist of your hands drums in that fact. He settles opposite Akaashi at the open table, and sighs dramatically when he feels a wet spot blooming underneath his left thigh. Akaashi doesn’t even look up from his study of the menu.

“Someone spilled water there earlier.”

“Right,” Kuroo huffs, “perfect.”

He’s not desperate enough to trust you yet when you offer to mop some of it up for him with a tissue. Handing you a similar looking menu instead, your hands are happily too occupied to give him anymore grief, deserved or not. He spies Bokuto watching the two of you bemusedly out of the corner of his eye, and his bottom lip trembling at the effort to keep his mouth shut about it, and rolls his eyes. He’s surrounded by complete asshats.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about how to ship Nick and Gideon. How would that relationship bloom? How do they find each other? I think it’d probably go like this:

Like the old idiom goes, the quickest way to a fox’s heart is through his stomach. Gideon Grey, having made good friends with Judy, comes to Zootopia to visit for a few days. Due to a dearth of space in her tiny apartment, Nick very helpfully volunteers to host the country fox. Judy… is less than pleased. She knows darn well Nick just wants to poke fun at Gideon for all his Bunnyburrow ways.

This is absolutely the truth. Nick is ecstatic; he’s endlessly amused by this plump little bumpkin, so naive, so lost in the Big City. It’s like teasing Judy after she first arrived in Zootopia all over again! (Well, maybe not just like that.)

After a wonderful day of sightseeing, they retire for the night, and in the morning, Nick expects another fun-filled day of teasing Gideon behind his back and making Carrots glare at him.

Instead, he’s greeted by the smell of a fresh pot of coffee and- is that pancakes? Gideon’s been up for an hour, and a steaming stack of Hopps Farms blueberry pancakes is waiting for him. Nick didn’t even know he had the supplies in his house to make pancakes.

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Malec fic: The Break of Day

Alec awakens to the soft caress of the warm morning sunlight, a gentle breeze flickering through the curtains, and the murmurings of a city just coming to life. It’s strange; he usually wakes in the still-chilled dark, pushing his protesting body from bed to get a jump-start on the day, after a too-late night. Alec stretches his arms above his head, pulls his legs out long to the very edge of the bed but not over it like usual, with his feet dangling in the cold air. He remembers then that he’s not in his own bed. Not in his room at the Institute with scratchy sheets and cold rooms and a bed a few inches shy of accommodating his full height. He’s at Magnus’s.

A contented hum rumbles Alec’s chest, and he turns, curling on his side so his nose rests at the nape of Magnus’s neck. He breathes in. Magnus stirs. They don’t have anywhere to be right away, a miracle, really. If Alec lets them in there will be flood of thoughts about things he needs to do, missions to complete, meetings and briefings he should attend, people he needs to help—

Right now, he doesn’t need to be anywhere but in this bed, with Magnus. 

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Kevin Frayer’s photographs of illegal Chinese steel factories look like postcards from the dawn of the Industrial Revolution. Thick smoke spews out of tall stacks, steam rises from vast pits, and molten steel flows across the ground like lava. All around, men toil without even basic protective gear.  “It was like stepping back in time,” says Frayer, who spent four days at two steel factories in Inner Mongolia in early November. “The way of working seemed unchanged and unaffected by technology.”

SEE MORE: Step inside China’s hellish, illicit steel factories.

“Walking into the city, you found narrow alleys between the buildings with dripping pipes overhead, discharge flowing in gutters, people stripped to the waist in their underwear working in tiny factories, the sound of metal pounding metal, butchered animals, unlicensed dentists, a two-man rubber plunger factory, carts stacked with steaming food, everything mixed together. It felt unreal (especially in the early days), and yet totally normal to everyone living and working there.” —Photographer Greg Girard, on life inside the City of Darkness

i imagine there being some bots who’d add a mod that allows their fans to push out smoke of some sort, to make it look like they’re running hot, but it’s more than just that like

Different coloured smoke pushed out, and imagine this smoke twirling around you when you’re dancing with someone, and having the light around you essentially long-exposure capturing your movements using the smoke, 

Artificial black smoke to confuse the enemy into thinking you’re running hot and vitally damaged, which will make some of them not give their all into attacking you. Little do they know that you’re fully functional and ready to kick aft.

When you’re in a bar, a little trail of smoke signals what you’re looking for tonight. Wanting to dance with someone? Glittery purple smoke. Just here for a drink and a good chat? Blue. Looking to meet someone for more? Pink. just wanna be left alone in ur stool to die? Leave Me Alone red smoke.

also good for magical girl transformations. but imagine transforming and you’re spouting out stacks of steam. bruh. //fans self

ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃᶫˢᵒ ᶦᵗˢ ᶫᶦᵏᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶦᵗ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵛᵃᵖᵉ

keelaree  asked:

Prompt idea- an "I love you" for the first time slightly out of the blue.

Enjoy, love! 


“Let me get this straight: You cut the cheese in front of Peeta and, instead of being absolutely horrified, he says he loves you?”

Katniss nodded frantically, her grey eyes filling. “I mean, who does that?”

Sometimes the right words come at the wrong moment. Modern AU. Fluff with some flatulence-related humor.


There were few things in life that Johanna Mason enjoyed.

She worked long hours at a law firm as a paralegal, where her only duties were making coffee and scheduling appointments for her boss, Alma Snow, one of the top legal minds in Panem. She had very little money to her name, so she shared an apartment with her younger cousin. She was single; her last major relationship being five years ago and her last tryst six months ago.

The one thing she had was china painting.

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13 DECEMBER 2015


Today was a very special day. It was Taylor’s birthday.

It started out with Lottie and I waking up to make breakfast while Taylor slept a little longer, which is much easier said than done as she was sleeping with all her limbs wrapped around me….but I broke free and woke up Lottie too.Since it was a Thursday, we had to be up especially early in order to celebrate a little before Lottie had to go to school. Luckily I had taken the day off and Taylor didn’t have any auditions at the moment, since it was getting close to Christmas and castings had stopped for the holidays, so we would be able to spend the whole day together.

“Ok, so we have to tiptoe in, and then you can climb up and wake up Taylor. Remember to say happy birthday… got it?” I asked Lottie, who nodded excitedly as we started heading down the hallway. I had closed the door so we wouldn’t wake her, which meant I now had to open the door with a tray in my hands and a bouncy 5 year old at my feet.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAYLOR!” Lottie screamed, rushing in as soon as I opened the door and jumping onto the bed.

Taylor’s eyes flew open and she sat up in bed, obviously only pretending to be asleep when we came in.

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“Fire Power”
Since I like the digitally mirrored version a lot more than the original time stack, I decided not to upload the time stack itself. (Just take half of this image and you got all the interesting bits of the time stack anyway, as it was simply cropped and mirrored once)
The time stack was made from 569 photos, all merged into one image using the lighten layer-blending mode in photoshop, automated with this script, advanced

seven locations on a ghost hunt

a motel, a blue painted sign with peeling black letters and a pine-tree pattern on the wallpaper, the sheets smell like cigarettes and the bathroom smells like whiskey and vomit.

a grey-white church, stained-glass windows and a double-bent priest with bad advice; a bell tower touching an iron-colored sky shot with rust-red sunset lights, purple-white lightning illuminating the towering storm that approaches from the south.

a local library, 27 books on mythology and 17 on abraham lincoln, all covered in an inch-deep layer of dust, and a college girl dean flirts with so he can check out the books without a library card. 

a rest stop outside town, across the road from a mcdonalds, there’s always a mcdonalds no matter where they go, and the only words ever said at the rest stop are accusations and angry apologies between two brothers on an endless road trip.

a diner where the old folks trade gossip and a couple boys circle obituaries in the state paper in red pen, a waitress in a red miniskirt brings the coffee and the steaming bacon and a stack of buttermilk pancakes. 

a yellow brick house, red shingled roof, smelling faintly of mothballs and cats, the woman who lives there hasn’t left in 17 years. there are porcelain lions and elephants behind glass in a dark wood case, and she offers tea. the tea tastes like vodka and sand.

a graveyard in the middle of a field. the blue, pink, and yellow wildflowers stop growing 30 feet from the edge of the hallowed ground. stepping between the stones, there’s a rising miasma. perhaps a corpse wasn’t buried all the way down, and a limp hand is sprouting from the earth like a bloody blossom. its icy cold here even in midsummer