such a pretty beam

“The painting was a lie.

A bright, pretty lie, bursting with pale pink blooms and fat beams of sunshine.

I’d begun it yesterday, an idle study of the rose garden lurking beyond the open windows of the studio. Through the tangle of thorns and satiny leaves, the brighter green of the hills rolled away into the distance.

Incessant, unrelenting spring.

If I’d painted this glimpse into the court the way my gut had urged me, it would have been flesh-shredding thorns, flowers that choked off the sunlight for any plants smaller than them, and rolling hills stained red.

But each brushstroke on the wide canvas was calculated; each dab and swirl of blending colors meant to portray not just idyllic spring, but a sunny disposition as well. Not too happy, but gladly, finally healing from horrors I carefully divulged.

I supposed that in the past weeks, I had crafted my demeanor as intricately as one of these paintings. I supposed that if I had also chosen to show myself as I truly wished, I would have been adorned with flesh-shredding talons, and hands that choked the life out of those now in my company. I would have left the gilded halls stained red.

But not yet.

Not yet, I told myself with every brushstroke, with every move I’d made these weeks. Swift revenge helped no one and nothing but my own, roiling rage.

Even if every time I spoke to them, I heard Elain’s sobbing as she was forced into the Cauldron. Even if every time I looked at them, I saw Nesta fling that finger at the King of Hybern in a death-promise. Even if every time I scented them, my nostrils were again full of the tang of Cassian’s blood as it pooled on the dark stones of that bone-castle.

The paintbrush snapped between my fingers.

I’d cleaved it in two, the pale handle damaged beyond repair.

Cursing under my breath, I glanced to the windows, the doors. This place was too full of watching eyes to risk throwing it in the rubbish bin.

I cast my mind around me like a net, trawling for any others near enough to witness, to be spying. I found none.

I held my hands before me, one half of the brush in each palm.

For a moment, I let myself see past the glamour that concealed the tattoo on my right hand and forearm. The markings of my true heart. My true title.

High Lady of the Night Court.

Half a thought had the broken paintbrush going up in flames.

The fire did not burn me, even as it devoured wood and brush and paint.

When it was nothing but smoke and ash, I invited in a wind that swept them from my palms and out the open windows.

For good measure, I summoned a breeze from the garden to snake through the room, wiping away any lingering tendril of smoke, filling it with the musty, suffocating smell of roses.

Perhaps when my task here was done, I’d burn this manor to the ground, too. Starting with those roses.” -Sarah J. Maas

—  Sarah J. Maas shares excerpt from A Court of Wings and Ruin
http://ew.com/books/2017/04/26/sarah-j-maas-court-of-wings-and-ruin/

I saw a post a few weeks ago about how Shiro might have heard Lance gushing about the team to the yupper over the comm and I was just thinking that if he did hear him, maybe Shiro might have told Keith what Lance said about him and about how cool he was and Keith really takes it to heart and so on a future mission Keith might be talking to an alien about the team in earshot of Lance and saying like “and Lance is our sharpshooter. He’s an expert marksman. He’s smart and brave…” And they catch each other’s eyes and Lance is beaming and Keith continues “he’s pretty awesome.”

Things Happen

Summary: You wake up next to a man you don’t know, in a place you have never been in, not remembering what has happened the night before. What ensues after is hard to believe.

Word Count: 2,256

Warnings: Mentions of drinking and vomit.

A/N: Thank you to @whothehellisbella for her help, you are amazing, Bella! <3 I hope you all enjoy this one :D 

Originally posted by bucky-papichulo


The buzzing in your head was constant and obnoxious. You knew you had been stupid enough last night to drink yourself to stupor. Groaning, you reached for your pillow and instead your fingers threaded through long hair. Some part of you knew that you shouldn’t, but you still gripped tightly and pulled.

A loud yelp pierced through the air before a masculine voice began to curse. There was a sharp sting to the back of your hand and you hissed, pulling it back and cradling it to your chest.

Your eyes fluttering opened, you gave it a few seconds to fully focus on the person before you and you realized that you did not know him.

“Who are you?” you blurted out.

Keep reading

Atobe Keigo - Charm Point wa Nakibokuro (Tenipuri Festa 2016)

A bit of a preview while the rest of the show finishes encoding.

Yare! Do it!! was my favorite song of the weekend overall, but this one made the transition to DVD way better - listen to just how ridiculously loud the audience was Σ(°д°lll) Tenipuri fans are intense, yo.

anonymous asked:

Okay but.... Imagine blind!Lance and Keith hanging out after everyone's gone to bed and having Keith describe what things look like because he was born blind. And letting Lance feel his face since he's never seen it before, he should get some idea. And Lance having Keith describe what Lance looks like to him and he goes on for abt 10 minutes in detail about how beautiful Lance is and he just. Beams. Keith doesn't even realize he's rambling abt how pretty Lance is

i need to lay down

Grammys: Josh Dun imagine

Y/N: Sorry this one’s kinda short, I just did a little drabble (but it’s longer than a series chapter) let me know if you want a part two maybe and I’ll whip something up ok love you guys!!! And btw some of these requests I’ve been getting lately are super amazing I love em I love you xoxo

Anonymous said:
Hi! Can I request a josh dun x reader where they’re at the Grammys and Josh goes with her and he is very happy to show her girlfriend to the world? Please 😁

*female reader

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you examined your dress, your makeup, your hair, everything about you. You had to look perfect. There would be millions of people watching you, eyes fixed on you, giving you the title of the girlfriend belonging to the one and only Joshua William Dun of Twenty One Pilots. And completely honest, you were not ready at all. Josh was handsome and hot and talented and famous and you were, well, you. Your smile faded away as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to take a deep breath and search for that lost self-confidence, closing your eyes and beginning to tell yourself you looked just fine when you felt two arms wrap around you, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck before resting on your shoulder and whispering in your ear. “You look absolutely gorgeous, y/n,” Josh murmured quietly before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. “Damn I don’t think I’m going to let you leave the house looking like that.”

“Whatever,” you giggled, turning around and looking up at him, both of you sharing a rather passionate kiss. When you pulled away, you stared into your eyes. “Really? I look okay?”

“Okay?” he raised his eyebrows. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“You sure?” you insisted.

“I swear,” he chuckled. “Gosh, I have to give it to Jenna, you do look really amazing in yellow.” It had been Tyler’s idea for the two of you to wear bright yellow dresses to match Josh’s new hair. While you seemed a little skeptical at first, Jenna insisted, saying it complimented your eyes, and even dragged you out to a shop for the day to go searching for the perfect one for you.

“The dress looks like Belle’s from Beauty and the Beast,” you nodded, twirling around in it once, the fabric flowing around your legs and Josh’s smile grew even wider.

“Exactly,” he grinned. “You’re a princess.”

“More like the beast,” you teased.

“Oh shut up,” he rolled his eyes, pulling you into a huge hug. “I’m not lying when I say you look like the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“You’re too kind,” you smirked. “Now come on. Let’s hurry over there and kick butt! I bet you’re going to win more than one!”

“We’re lucky if we win one,” he laughed. “But I agree, we should head over.”

When you were both driving to the venue, you could feel something was off. Josh kept biting his lower lip, knuckles turning white because he was clenching the steering wheel too hard, or constantly darting his eyes around nervously. “You okay, babe?” you raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Huh?” he whipped his head around to look at you when he reached a stop light. “I’m okay.”

“You look nervous as hell,” you softened your eyes.

“I am,” he admitted. “I’m scared to death.”

“Don’t worry,” you soothed. “You look amazing, your music sounds amazing, and you guys are amazing. I know you’ll win.”

“Yeah, but everyone will be staring at me,” he mumbled. “A million eyes all watching me if I go up on that stage. Even if I don’t. I have this bright yellow hair and these gages and-”

“And they’re all tiny reasons that add up to why I love you,” you reminded.

“I feel like I’m going to look like a fool,” Josh whispered. “I mean, I already do in this tuxedo and bowtie.”

“Don’t say that,” you argued. “You look like Prince Charming. Perfect for a princess like me, right?”

“Right,” he smiled. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

“Sometimes I wish I could just punch your anxiety in the face,” you frowned.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Me too.”

“Look sweetie, you’re going to do absolutely amazing,” you reassured. “And besides, I’ll be right there beside you. Got it?”

“Definitely,” he nodded, turning into a parking spot. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Gosh, I can’t even believe we got this far.”

“I’m so proud of you guys,” you beamed.

“We’re just two guys from Columbus, Ohio. We were literally just playing in front of handfuls of people in a basement and now we’re selling out Madison Square Garden, being televised nationally, and now we have a chance at winning a Grammy. That’s absolutely insane,” he sighed, parking the car and staring at you. “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“I’m so happy for you,” you kissed him on the lips. “Ready to add another accomplishment to that long list?”

“You bet,” he agreed.

When you arrived, there was already plenty of people there. Luckily, you hadn’t spotted anyone else wearing such a bold shade of yellow, and it made you excited and happy. It wasn’t long before a teenage boy was running up to Josh, huge smile plastered on his face. “Hey, uh, I was wondering if maybe I could get an autograph, please?” he wondered, grinning up at Josh. “I’ve been listening to your music for years. I’m a huge fan.”

“Absolutely,” Josh nodded, receiving the marker and piece of paper he handed him.

“So who’s this lucky lady?” the boy asked.

“Oh, y/n?” Josh laughed, tugging you right at his side and wrapping an arm around your waist. “This is my lovely girlfriend.”

“Sweet,” the boy grinned. “She’s very pretty.”

“Isn’t she?” Josh beamed. “You know, before we came here she was being all flustered acting like she didn’t look good in this dress. Can you believe that?”

“Josh,” you turned red, stifling a chuckle.

“You guys are the perfect couple,” the boy laughed. “Thanks so much for the autograph, Josh.”

“No problem,” he reassured. He ran away happily and you slapped Josh on the arm.

“Why’d you say that?” you joked.

“What? Say that you’re beautiful?” he raised an eyebrow. “Because you are.”

“Flirt,” you smirked. “Come on, let’s go look for Jenna and Tyler.”

“Wait! Joshua Dun!” an interviewer raced up to the two of you, microphone in hand, a camera crew following close behind. “My name is Stacey. I’m a reporter here tonight, I was wondering if you would be open to sharing about the lovely lady you brought with you tonight possibly? She isn’t a familiar face, but she definitely will be remembered after tonight. That’s a lovely dress dear.”

“Thanks,” you blushed.

“This is y/n, she’s my girlfriend,” Josh presented you and thrust out his hands, waving them up and down as if he was selling a product or showing a prize on a gameshow. “She’s the only award I need tonight.”

“How sweet,” Stacey gushed. She shook Josh and your hand and then grinned back at the camera. “Look at these two love birds.”

“Love birds indeed,” he chuckled, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “But I think it’s time for us to fly away now.”

“Oh yes, you two run along. I think Tyler and Jenna are over by the red carpet,” she informed. “Good luck tonight!”

“Thanks so much,” Josh responded, linking his arm with yours and plastering on a smile. “Come on my little chickadee, we’ve got a lot more stuff to do before we win that Grammy.”

“Chickadee?” you giggled. “You’re awfully cheerful now.”

“I’ve got good vibes,” he shrugged. “Oh look! There’s Tyler and Jenna!”

“Where?” your eyes instantly darted around in search of the matching bright yellow, and when you saw her, your face lit up. “Goddammit she looks like a Queen.”

“You look better,” he whispered in your ear with a sly smile as you approached them both. You were about to protest but Josh was already unlinking his arm from yours, engulfing Tyler in a huge hug, and Jenna approached you with a huge grin.

“Oh my goodness gracious, y/n!” Jenna exclaimed. “You look like you just stepped out of a fairy tale, sweetheart.”

“Me?” you laughed. “Look at you!”

“She looks smoking,” you could hear Tyler whisper to Josh. “I could barely breathe when she walked out of the bedroom.”

“I know, same here,” Josh agreed in a low murmur. “She didn’t even notice me staring at her from the doorway. Dude, I was floored.”

“I don’t know but I think we should start doing more of these Grammy things if they’re going to look as hot as this,” Tyler teased.

“Hey!” Jenna snapped, giving him a playful tug on the ear. “You boys should work on your whispering skills. We can hear everything.”

“Then that just means you’ll know how much we think you look so freaking sexy tonight,” Tyler smirked, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her closer. “Right, babe?”

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes, planting her lips on his for a kiss. A couple flashes went off and Josh chuckled.

“Come on guys,” he laughed. “Let’s keep the PDA to a minimum.”

“Shut up,” Tyler narrowed his eyes when he pulled away from the kiss, squeezing Jenna’s hand before letting go. “I bet you guys are going to be all over each other by the time we sit down.”

“It’s the Grammys,” Josh argued. “We have to be well behaved.”

“Well behaved,” Tyler scoffed. “Like that’s something we know how to do.”

“You’re being so silly,” Jenna sighed.

“Just wait until we take our pants off,” Tyler winked. “Then it will get real.”

“What?” you and Jenna both exclaimed at the same time.

“Nothing,” Tyler reassured. “Just a joke.”

“It better be,” Jenna warned.

“Sure…” Josh smirked, leaving both of you curious of what the hell that meant.

Growing up asexual

You are twelve and your best friend kisses you the day before moving away. He’s nervous and shy, and the kiss is soft, but there are no sparks and no butterflies in your stomach. You are left feeling weird and uncomfortable, like there’s something wrong with you.

You are thirteen and your classmates talk about their crushes and how much they want to kiss them. You listen from a corner but don’t join the conversation. You don’t have a crush on anyone, you wouldn’t want any of their mouthes close to yours, so you can’t add anything to it. One of them still turns around and asks you about your crush. No one believes you when you say no one. The next day there is a rumor that you love one of your friends.

You are fourteen and come back home to find your living room busy with relatives. You join them and for a while everything seems fine, everyone is talking about embarrasing moments, and telling funny stories, and saying lame jokes. But then one of your aunts smiles conspirationally and winks at the other adults, and starts questioning you.

“You must have a boyfriend, someone as pretty as you!” She beams, and everyone gathered agrees. “So tell us, who is your boyfriend? Who do you like?”

You try to laugh it off and get out, and feel uncomfortable about it all, but they keep asking and keep asking and so you say the first name that comes into your mind (because your classmates didn’t believe you and you almost lost a friend because of it). That satisfies them for now and they all commend you for your good taste. No one notices you slipping out of the room until much later, and they all think it’s because you’re a teen now.

(Not one of them thinks that maybe they made you uncomfortable. No one thinks that maybe you would rather not talk about things like this.)

You are fifteen and have resigned yourself to the feelings of isolation. Your friends talk about masturbating, about sex, about the hot people in the class. Your classmates still ask you who you are crushing on. Sometimes you say a random name, and sometimes you claim to be too busy with your homework to worry about love (which seems to be a good enough excuse), but in the privacy of your mind you still wonder.

You look at women, trying to feel any sort of attraction towards them. You even try kissing a friend, but you feel absolutely nothing. You conclude that you can’t be neither homosexual nor bisexual. The logical leap to this is that you must be hetero, since those are the only options.

You try to make yourself fall in love with a boy, then. You stare at the so-called cute boy of your class for hours, waiting for the magical spark to appear. You try to make yourself love a boy based on his clothing. You try to understand what the hell is it that people are talking about.

You waste days, weeks, months on this task. You never succeed.

You are sixteen and you know you are broken. People still ask you about love and sex and crushes, and you still lie for fear of being different, of being alienated, of feeling even more isolated than you already do. You know you will have to marry one day, because marriage is mandatory no matter what you feel. So you resign yourself to pretending, to keep up the act. You try and keep trying not to let it bother you, but the idea of sex, of marriage, of love, all of it makes your stomach churn. You try to pretend you aren’t broken, but you know you are.

You are seventeen when you first see the word asexual, somewhere on the internet. You end up looking that word up, and find a website dedicated to it. There are hundreds upon hundreds of comments in the forums, but you first read the FAQs.

‘Asexuality is not feeling sexual attraction’, you read out loud, barely a whisper, as something inside of you clicks. It makes sense. It makes sense but you ignore it, and convince yourself that you do feel it (because there was that boy you thought looked pretty and that girl you considered cute), and you think the only reason why you don’t really fall in love and want sex is because you are broken. You know this to be true.

You close all of the tabs related to that word. For the next weeks you pretend to never have found it, but it’s always at the back of your mind.

(It’s a chance of being whole, your mind whispers, and you deny it because you are normal. You’ve been trying to be normal for so many years and you must be, have to be, will be…)

Asexuality fits with your life. You are broken, but maybe you aren’t alone.

You are eighteen, and you are more informed now. You have accepted that you are asexual (ace, as the community calls it), and you are somehow much happier now. You know you aren’t broken, now. You know this is an option that was never presented to you before.

You finally come out to your family, feeling safe and secure and confident in your knowledge. Your family laughs. They say that asexuality doesn’t exist, that it’s impossible not to feel sexual attraction. They tell you that you are too young, that you’ll find the right person, not to worry, as if your biggest worry was to not fall in love, instead of not succeding in life. They act like idiots and apologize when it’s too late, and even as you accept their apologies your mind keeps whispering (but what if they are right, what if it’s true, what if you are too young, what if you are faking it, what if, what if)

Your family refers to asexuality as 'that thing’, and they never ask you questions about it. It becomes an unspoken thing. Something that must never be talked about.

Sometimes you feel like crying, but you don’t really know why.

You are nineteen when you come out to your friends. You have put a wall around the fiasco with your family, and you explain everything to them. Your friends are open-minded about it and agree that it fits with your behaviour. They ask you questions and joke about it, but always make sure not to be offensive. You smile all thorought the afternoon, and even once you get home.

A few weeks later one of your friends tells you they are terrified of the idea of being like you, or becoming like you. They say, with concern and real worry in their eyes, that they wouldn’t be able to live a life like yours, so uninteresting, so lonely. You tell them not to worry and don’t even cry about it. But there is a heavy feeling in your chest and a knot in your throat.

You are twenty and the world exhaustes you sometimes. You get tired of watching sex and romance be such an important part of the plots of your favourite movies and TV shows. You are tired of being told in very subtle ways that your orientation isn’t valid. You are tired of the looming threat of corrective rape, of people who hate on you for your sexuality, of stupid jokes and stupid tropes. You are tired of them all.

But you are also twenty and understand that you aren’t broken. You know you aren’t alone. So you wear your ace ring with pride and wear the colors of the flag during the awareness week, and are ready to talk about it with anyone who listens. You are tired of being silenced, so you will yell until you get hoarse if that’s what it takes for the world to listen.

You are twenty, and you accept yourself, and even if things get rough, they can also get better.

Camping Antics – ArchiexReader! Mini Fic - Part One.

hey guys, so this is going to be an ArchiexReader! mini fanfic, probably with two or three parts! This was a prompt sent in by @sweetvengeancee so hopefully it does it justice haha. Part one is basically setting up the storyline :) If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please hit me up, and also send me some feedback in my ask! :)

Summary: (Y/N) and the others go camping, which leads to Archie and (Y/N) sharing a tent for a night ;)

Warnings: THIS FIC WILL CONTAIN SMUT. There are hints of smut in this part, but please be warned, that the second part will definitely be smutty. Could I say smut any more? Yes, yes I could.

PART TWO HERE.

Originally posted by capturingfandoms


PART ONE.

The sky was an inky, midnight blue with tiny pin-pricks of bright white. The chill in the air was evident by the visible clouds of our breath that enveloped our faces. We sat around the small campfire that Betty had expertly lit, and the smell of toasted marshmallows wafted through the air.

Keep reading

Give You the World

Synopsis: If there’s one thing that inspired you to keep going in life, it was a simple picture painted on a wall by a street artist named V. It changed your life—he changed your life and all you want to do is meet him. But what if V is closer than you think?

Originally posted by mvssmedia

Pairing: StreetArtist!Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 11,675

A/N: re-uploaded once again :)


Just once.

You want to meet him just once in your life: the furtive street artist whose work stains the dainty town and sparks inspiration within you. Scattered among the nooks of your small town are his pieces of art that stand on an equal par to a diamond in the rough. Though, others beg to differ and claim that his “excuse of art” should not taint the pure streets of such a beautiful suburb. You believe that people should open their eyes to the beauty that is the wide world of art, an intricate way to express a whirlwind of thoughts and emotion, each piece holding a unique story.

To encounter the man behind the alluring masterpieces seems like it would occur once every blue moon. To meet the artist who has inspired you and motivated you in ways day to day people cannot would be an honor, especially if the only factor known about him is his street name, V.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

PLEASE GET STARTED I NEED BIG BROTHER ADAM LOVING HIS BABY BROTHER CHIP

Clears throat. SCARMON.

  • You figure out within a week or so of the Curse being broken that Adam is exceptional with Chip. It warms your heart seeing him interact with him and take care of him. There’s something about Adam with Chip that makes you wonder if he hasn’t self-dubbed himself as his older brother.
  • Absolutely sneaks snacks and goodies for Chip even after Mrs. Potts said no. It’s probably the cutest thing ever. The two of them walking down the hallway, towards the kitchen and whenever they hear someone coming, they’ll hide behind the curtains. Once in the kitchen though, Prince Adam will give Chip anything his heart desires. Even sweets. Adam’s gotten spoken to a couple of times because of this by Mrs. Potts personally, but he’ll always look down at Chip who’s behind her and give him a small wink. An assurance that even though he’s getting told off, he plans on continuing the devious behavior.
  • Convinces Mrs. Potts to let Chip stay up past his bedtime. All. The Time.
    • It’s usually Chip who plays this out though, giving his mother puppy dog eyes and saying, “Adam’s almost done with the story, one more hour please?”
      And with Chip being her soft spot, she gives Adam a glance and agrees. One more hour.
  • Prince Adam has never personally made a cup of tea for himself, so he spent an evening with Chip who was all too willing to show him how to make the perfect cup. They probably ended up making close to one hundred cups, to which the only solution was a giant tea party with everyone in the castle.
    • Adam’s pretty impressed with himself to be honest. He’s beaming with pride, ruffles Chips hair and explains to you, “I’d have probably burned the water if it wasn’t for him.”
  • Piggy-back rides through the Garden during summertime. Prince Adam acting like he’s going to throw Chip into the pond. It’s just a joke, and though Chip knows that, he plays along and yells, “Please don’t do it!”
  • No doubt, Prince Adam is in the process of teaching Chip to read. Probably simple folklore from the area, but Chip has also shown interest in History and ironically, Romance.
    • Prince Adam lets you take care of the Romance genre though, as it’s still a cliche to him even though the Curse he was previously under was broken by true love. You always joke around and say, “he can’t read romances even though his life is basically one big romance novel.” To which Prince Adam pretends to gag, before giving you the sweetest smile. What you said was true, and he knows it and really, he wouldn’t change it. 
      • If the two of you ever kiss in front of Chip, you’d never hear the end of it. “Why would you do that right here?” “EW” “Can you not? Please?”
  • Mrs. Potts has absolutely noticed the unique bond between her son and Prince Adam. She brings it up one evening before bedtime. Adam smiles at her and says, “I never got these sorts of things when I was a child. You knew my father, you knew love and tenderness were out of the question.”
    She grins reassuringly at him, pressing her hand to his cheek.It reminds him of his mother’s affection. The last time he ever saw her, the love inside of her heart and the love she held for her son.
    Mrs. Potts says, “Well, I can assure you that you’ve made his life much better, dearie. He’s always wanted a big brother.”
  • Prince Adam is the way he is with Chip post-curse, because he never got the chance to be a child. He knows what it’s like to have your childhood taken away in the worst way, and while the Curse was still active, Adam promised himself that if it was ever broken, he’d give Chip the childhood he deserved. With a mother and father, family and friends. No child deserves to be alone.
    • “My friends,” He started softly, “I don’t ever think I had friends my own age or of my own interest. I made friends with the staff of the Castle. Cogsworth, Lumière…” Adam paused and tucked back some of his strawberry blond hair, “I do know that there are a lot of children without that opportunity, some without a family as well… And I want to help them.”

      He’s on the verge of sobbing, a few tear drops having rolled down his cheeks onto his hands. You smile tenderly at him, cupping his cheek lovingly and kiss his right cheek. It was moments like this that made it hard to know that Prince Adam was once so heartless. “It’s alright, love. I’ll be with you in whatever it is you want to do.”
      • Though he still taxes the villagers(Not heavily anymore), whatever money he receives goes out to help children that need it. Whether they need a family, food, education. Prince Adam wants to help.After all, there is more to life than just his wants. 
  • Nearing the fisrt year of the two of you together, you start to get heavy baby fever. You see and take note of how Prince Adam is with Chip and just adds to your want to start your own family.

It’s late at night and the two of you are getting ready for bed. Prince Adam is watching from bed already as you sit at the vanity, brushing back your hair. You glance into the mirror back at him, smiling before saying to him, “When I first met you, I never imagined you’d be amazing with children.”
His eyebrows raise in slight amusement. “Well, I was a Beast when you first met me. I imagine children were out of the question at that time.”

You laughed in agreement, sitting on your side of the bed. Your back to him, you rubbed your hands together, took a deep breath in and whispered gently, “Well, I see you now with Chip. You’re so wonderful with him, it’s so natural and so loving. I just wonder…”

He’s curious as to what you’re thinking. Sitting up slightly, he reaches out, brushes his cool fingertips along your back and tells you, “You can ask and tell me anything, (Name). No need to be hesitant.”

“If you’ve ever thought about having children with me.” You said flat out, your cheeks on fire.

“Of course I’ve thought about it.” Adam chuckled softly, perhaps, a bit nervously at what you were implying. “I’ve seen you with Chip as well. You’ve got a natural inclination to be.. tender and understanding with him…” 

Swallowing, he nodded to his own words, “My mother was like that…” Scooting towards you, he sits down and cups your cheek in his hand. Turning your head so you could look at him, he places the lightest kiss possible against your lips and murmurs against them, “It’s okay to look at me.”

Gazing up, you catch eyes with him. A bit cross eyed because of the close proximity of your faces. Lifting your legs up, he rests them on his lap and leans forward to hive you another warm kiss. “Whenever you want, we can try…” Adam says gently, “I want children with you, (Name).”


Thanks for reading, guys! reblogs and likes are appreciated. Have a great day. -Em.

you know what i really love? the concept of viktor always bringing yuuri flowers.

coming back from practice by himself? stop somewhere and get flowers.

going grocery shopping? oh, i just happened to walk past some flowers and i added to the shopping cart.

viktor giving yuuri flowers for no reason other than his smile makes viktor think of pretty things.

and yuuri loves it. he’s always flattered, blushing adorably, and beaming at viktor. 

Taking Risks

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After a few months of fooling and sneaking around with Bucky you both agree to not celebrate Valentines Day, but when the day rolls around he just can’t help but tease you, even if it means risking the others finding out. (Loosely based off of an anon request for Bucky + the letter R from @timeforsmut‘s NSFW ABCs)

Warnings: sprinkles of smut and fluff

Word Count: 3009

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Stabilized

This should go up on AO3 soon and I’ll add the link. I’m still on official hiatus from fic prompts and chapter updates, but I’m writing other things as I have time and inspiration strikes. This was spawned out of a brief conversation about a specific line of dialogue and it was fun to write. It got sappy and I do not apologize.

Stabilized
Gen/Family Bonding
Tim Drake + Bruce Wayne
Rated T for Language
~2500 words

The Batmobile roared into the Cave and the engine cut-off, plunging the bay into silence. Only voices from the medical unit carried over when Batman leapt out of the car.

“How is he?” he called, pulling back his cowl as he hurried up the steps.

“Dazed and a little incoherent,” came Alfred’s reply. “I’m still assessing him now.”

Bruce had been on patrol with Damian when Oracle had informed him over the comm that Tim had been taken back to the cave with a head injury of unspecified severity. Cassandra had found him and then had fallen silent on the comms after letting Oracle know.

He climbed the steps to see Tim perched on the edge of the gurney, a bucket in his hands. It looked freshly rinsed. Cass was sitting on the countertop with her arms wrapped around her folded legs. Alfred was prepping a CT scanner they’d invested in after an earlier nasty head wound.

“Is Robin with you?” Alfred asked, glancing over as Bruce took in the scene.

“He’s with Batgirl,” Bruce said, not taking his eyes off Tim.

“Miss Cassandra might appreciate your help in engaging Master Timothy’s attention.”

“Listen,” Cass said, when Bruce took a step closer to them. Tim had still not noticed his arrival, or if he had, he had given no indication of it. “Tim. Tell me again. Becoming Robin.”

“So,” Tim said, his word slurred. He leaned forward over the bucket and nearly toppled off the gurney. Cass slid forward, a tangle of limbs unfurling and stretching toward him in the same instant Bruce put a hand on Tim’s shoulder and gently pushed him upright again.

“So,” Tim repeated, “you know, you know the first part.”

“Green. Girls. Fast cars,” Cass supplied, weight braced on her hands on the countertop. She held her body aloft, an inch above the surface, by her splayed palms.

Bruce’s heartbeat stuttered, knowing and hating this origin story. He loved Tim but he tried not to think often of why Tim was there.

“Exaaaactly,” Tim said. “Gone. So, B, you know B, he’s a fucking disaster. Like Cass you don’t even know how bad. He was erratic and violent and reclusive like a baby kangaroo. Cass, don’t laugh at me, I’m serious,” Tim’s voice took on a pleading tone and Cass was in fact, giggling behind her hands. She’d dropped back to the counter to cover her face. “Baby kangaroos are dangerous, Cass. They have really strong legs but they hide, too,” Tim sounded near tears.

“Okay,” she said, consoling. Bruce felt like he wasn’t doing much to help other than ensuring Tim wouldn’t topple over, but he was also reluctant to miss the rest of the story from Tim’s perspective.

“He was hiding and I knew where to find him,” Tim said. “I snuck in. Who gives a fuck about rules, not me. I never have. Anyway I found him, and he was all like, ‘What are you doing here, punk? Aren’t you Jack Drake’s kid?’”

Bruce had half-anticipated this part of the story, but he has not anticipated that Tim’s voice would rise to a falsetto while imitating Bruce’s lines instead of dropping to a lower octave. He had to stifle a sudden laugh.

Cass’ eyes were shining and Bruce realized belatedly she’d said “again” earlier. She had wanted him to hear this.

“Then what,” Cass prompted when Tim’s attention began to drift.

“Oh,” Tim said. “Oh yeah. So. So, I found him. And he was angry. But I just told him the truth. I said, ‘bitch, you need some kid to stabilize you, and I guess I have to be it.’”

Bruce, despite his twinges of guilt and amusement, could not actually argue with the truth of this summation.

“I seem to remember more pleading on your end, Master Timothy,” Alfred interjected a bit defensively.

“No, that’s pretty much it,” Bruce said with a wry grin. Cass beamed at him unabashedly.

Tim turned as if surprised and looked up at Bruce standing next to him.

“Hey, bitch,” he said in a sluggish tone. “I mean, Bruce,” he amended without apology.

“Hey, kid,” Bruce said. “They told me you hit your head.”

“That’s stupid,” Tim spit out bitterly. “Something else hit my head, not me. I’m not an idiot.”

“Brick wall,” Cass said.

“That,” Tim said forcefully, pointing a finger at her. “What Rainbow Daughter said.”

“True name,” Cass clarified for Bruce. “Secret.”

“The scanner is ready,” Alfred said. “Master Timothy, if you might lie back?”

“Try and make me,” Tim said. “I can go back out there. I’m fine!”

“Tim,” Bruce said, a little sternly, and Tim sighed and reclined on the bed, still clutching the bucket. “Has he been nauseous?” Bruce asked Alfred.

“No,” Tim answered. “I just like this bucket.”

“Ask him questions,” Alfred said. “Keep him awake, if you might.”

“Favorite dinosaur?” Cass asked before Bruce could think of anything.

“Velociraptor,” Tim answered with a scoffing noise. “What kind of question is that.”

“Movie?” Bruce asked and Cass gave him an alarmed expression. From inside the portable scanner Tim sniffled hard and bit back a sob.

“Dumbo,” he whispered a second later.

“Favorite happy film,” Alfred amended, giving Bruce a severe look. “One must specify.”

Cass added a reproving frown to this, and a nod, as if it was common sense.

Inside the machine, Tim sniffed again and answered in a steadier tone, “No such thing. Is Bruce still there?”

“Yes,” Bruce answered.

“Tell them. There are no happy films,” Tim insisted.

“I’m sure there are some happy films,” Bruce countered slowly, looking to see Alfred’s still disapproving reaction to this concession.

“But you haven’t seen any,” Tim said sourly. “You can’t think of any. Art is misery.”

Bruce, who had been feeling slightly bewildered by his apparently massive misjudgment moments before, knew immediately that this was something he could salvage.

“That isn’t true,” he argued, ignoring the absurdity of disagreeing with a stubborn teenager who had a probably massive concussion. “What about the photo essay on abandoned research labs in Gotham?”

“The one I did for Wired?” Tim asked hesitantly. “Yeah, that was fun.”

In the corner of Bruce’s line of sight, Cass bit her lip to hold back a pleased smile.

“Nikon or Canon?” Bruce asked next, dragging a wheeled stool over to the gurney and sitting down.

“Digital or traditional?” Tim asked, his whole body now otherwise still.

“Both,” Cass said. “I guessed.”

“Canon for digital, Nikon for traditional,” Tim said. “Were you right?”

“Yes,” Cass said quietly, despite having no proof of this. Bruce didn’t doubt her. He himself had been fairly certain.

“Hell yes,” Tim said triumphantly. “Sibs know shit.”

“Sibs know shit,” Cass repeated solemnly, like it was a vow of some kind. For all the weight they gave it, Bruce supposed it might have been.

“I’m gonna sleep,” Tim announced with a yawn. “It’s so cold in here.”

“Tim,” Bruce said, instead of trying to persuade him otherwise. “Which USSR camera model did you prefer?”

“You don’t remember that,” Tim said as if it were obvious fact. “No way.”

“Of course I do,” Bruce said, because he did.

“Zorki-6,” Tim said with a fond sigh.

“Why?” Bruce asked, because he wanted to keep him talking and because he’d always been curious about the antique camera Tim had spent a long spring season taking everywhere. He’d come to Bruce’s office after school most afternoons to sit on the couch and do homework and fiddle with the settings. He’d take pictures from the window, or traipse around the building with the camera, and develop them in the darkroom at the manor afterward instead of going home. But Bruce has never asked– Tim had been skittish about his art then, likely to tuck it away if anyone paid attention.

“Because no one else that I knew had one,” Tim said. “And it smelled like your old briefcase.”

Bruce was so acutely aware of Cass sitting nearby and Alfred beside him overseeing the machine as it powered down that it didn’t take much effort to retain his face’s composure, but there was a moment where it nearly broke in surprise and sentimental warmth.

“Good smell,” Cass said.

“Hell yes,” Tim said again. “One of the best. Like vanilla extract.”

Bruce was frozen on the stool while they discussed this and he exchanged a look with Alfred that told him, without words, that his semblance of facial control was likely a myth.

“Ew,” Cass said. “Bitter.”

“I told you, you can’t taste it,” Tim said. “Extract is gross to taste.”

The machine rolled back and Tim was prone on the bed, still, the small bin wrapped in his arms.

“This is just a cursory glance,” Alfred said, “but I don’t see anything concerning. His heart rate is still a tad elevated.”

A suspicion bloomed in Bruce’s mind and his frozen limbs moved again. He slid the stool down toward Tim’s head and leaned over the bed, looking into the boy’s face.

“Tim. How many shots of espresso did you get in your red eye tonight?”

“Oh,” Tim said, thinking. “Before I fought with the wall.”

“Yes,” Bruce said, a smile quirking one side of his mouth.

“Uh,” Tim said, meeting Bruce’s gaze and then looking down at the bin. “You’re going to be pissed.”

“I won’t be,” Bruce said, promising to himself as much as Tim. “If you tell me, you might get to sleep soon.”

“I’m so tired,” Tim allowed. “Really. Like, it’s been days. Fudge. I’m so tired.”

“C’mon,” Bruce said, and he felt Cass move behind him before he saw her at his elbow.

Cass bent forward and kissed Tim’s forehead.

“You tell,” she said. “Or else.”

“Seven,” Tim whined with a hand over his eyes. “Seven, okay? And maaaaybe a Red Bull. I’m a robin. It gives me wings.”

“Well, that solves that mystery,” Bruce said, sitting up. “Al, mark this one down as a minor concussion and an excess of caffeine consumption.”

“Master Timothy,” Alfred said, aghast. “You ought to know better.”

“I said don’t be mad!” Tim protested.

“Master Bruce made such a promise,” Alfred replied sharply, with worry in his voice. “You will be staying here for a few days, is that understood?”

Tim nodded sullenly and stuck both arms in the air, suddenly, the bin clattering on the floor when it fell.

“Carry me,” he ordered. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Cass reached over and prodded his knee; Tim’s leg jerked away.

“Liar,” she said simply.

“I’m compromised.” Tim jiggled his arms, held out in a zombie-like fashion. “Somebody. I don’t want to sleep in the cave.”

Bruce stood up and slid an arm under Tim’s shoulders and another under his knees. Tim slumped against him, unresisting, as he straightened.

“Night, Timmy,” Cass called from her reclaimed perch on the counter while Alfred muttered under his breath. When Bruce glanced back, she’d scooted down to hug the older man around the neck and Alfred patted her hands.

“How bad is your headache?” Bruce asked as he climbed the steps in the cave.

“Middling,” Tim mumbled against the batsuit Bruce was still wearing.

“And anxiety?” Bruce prompted next, knowing from experience the side effects of that much caffeine. He’d gotten a few stern lectures from Alfred when he hadn’t been much older than Tim.

“Um,” Tim said, “pretty shitty. How’d you know?”

“When was the last time you asked me to carry you?” Bruce questioned in reply. “I think the answer is probably never.”

“I was serious about my legs. They fell asleep,” Tim said, his head still turned against Bruce’s chest as Bruce side-stepped through the narrow door. The boy sounded almost asleep already, but more lucid than earlier. “I didn’t want to fall in front of you guys.”

“Hm,” Bruce said. He rounded the corner and began climbing the second set of stairs. Tim had never, even with muscle, been very heavy.

“I miss you,” Tim mumbled when they reached the top. “I try really hard not to be bitter about Damian, but I miss how things were before. When it was us.”

“Me, too,” Bruce said, knowing he meant it and that no one else was around to hear. He knew Damian would take it the wrong way and was glad he was still out, but he felt the same way about each of them as Robin. He did miss the days when he was out on the rooftops with Tim.

“I know it wouldn’t be the same,” Tim said, as if consoling himself.

“Handle,” Bruce prompted, stopping at the door.

Tim flopped his hand over and swung it wildly around, reaching without looking. When his fingers landed on the knob, he turned and his grip slipped off.

“It’s locked,” he complained. “I don’t know where I left the key.”

“I can kick it open,” Bruce said, considering. “But Alfred might be upset. I could pick the lock. Or we can go down the hall and you can steal my bed for the night.”

“Where would you sleep?” Tim demanded groggily, and Bruce took that as his cue and headed further down the hall.

“The couch in my office,” Bruce said. “Or a guest room.”

“Your bed has good pillows,” Tim mumbled when Bruce worked the knob with his knee and pushed the door open. He carried Tim across the room to the bed and stood there for a moment, then dropped him abruptly onto the comforter.

“Bruce,” Tim complained, laughing. He crawled under the covers until all but the top of his head had disappeared and from under the thick blankets, he sighed.

Bruce sat on the edge of the side table and reached over and ruffled Tim’s hair.

“You did stabilize me, you know,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Tim said in a drifting tone.

“You can’t keep doing this, Tim,” Bruce said when Tim rolled over and pressed his hand against Bruce’s outstretched hand. “Come by my office. Or we can patrol. But you need sleep. And less caffeine.”

Tim nodded and yawned.

“Okay,” he said. “Sorry.”

“You’re a good kid, Tim,” Bruce added. He wished he said it more often.

“You too, bitch,” Tim said, and then he giggled. It sounded young and childish coming from him. “Sorry. Sorry. I mean, thanks. My heart is still going crazy.”

It was Bruce’s turn to yawn.

“You okay?” he asked. “I need to get out of this suit.”

“Mhm,” Tim said. “M’good. Night, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Tim,” Bruce answered, standing. “Shout if you need something.”

The answer was a soft snore. Bruce closed the door behind him and stopped to pick the lock to Tim’s door on the way down the hall.

It was unlocked.

Bruce grinned.

Three in the bed.

On drizzly nights when the kids are all off doing their own things, watching television, doing homework, or playing with each other, you and Harry tend to unwind in the bedroom, the two of you sprawled out on the kind size bed, cuddled with each other while you talk about random things, from ridiculous stories of the day, to how suddenly the kids are growing up. 

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miss-sparklez  asked:

That beam livestream was pretty nifty! How often do you think you're doing to do those streams?

I honestly have no idea, sorry, it pretty much depends on how much other work I have on my plate on any given day! I did think about streaming more today, but I ended up editing together my own PAX-video (for tomorrow) instead, and that took like 4 hours alone, so… Maybe tomorrow though! Mostly because I wanna keep playing Thimbleweed Park, because I had a really fun time with that game, and it lends itself really well for “audience interaction” as well with all the choices! :D

I say best way is to keep an eye on the twitter, and do a follow on Beam if you have an account, because I’ll probably continue Thimbleweed on there, I liked the integrated poll, in chat, good for in-game options :)

lovesbiggerthanpride  asked:

Hi there! My birthday is on April 5th. If anyone has time, I would love to get a drabble. Maybe "friends finally taking a chance on each other" with a little bit of smut. Thank you! Y'all do great work!

Originally posted by mono-n-o-aware

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays! To help celebrate, the lovely @ally147writes has crafted this amazing slice of Everlark, just for you. Enjoy!


rated M


AN: Happy Birthday to the prompter! I hope you like this 26k word behemoth. I am both sorry and not sorry at all for the length of this story, which is decidedly not drabble length. (To think I had plans to add more…) In my defence, ‘Friends to Lovers’ is a really loaded prompt.


This is written in Australian English and unbeta’d, the former because that’s what I’m used to, and the latter because I couldn’t find a willing American to help me in time.

Rated M for swears, mentions of canon-typical abuse, and sexy-times I’ve managed to keep relatively non-explicit ;)


“And I was crazy like the moon for you
And head over my heels for you
And never would I change or compromise”
‘Selected Poems’ – The Gaslight Anthem

——————–

Age 5

Peeta’s putting the finishing touches on a crayon drawing of a dandelion when he sees her for the first time.

It’s the middle of the year, so they don’t get many new kids starting. Peeta’s not the only one watching, curious. She just reaches her dad’s waist, her hair hanging down her back in two glossy black braids, red plaid dress coming down past her knees. She looks out over the classroom with her wide, grey eyes and clutches her daddy’s hand while he talks to Mr. Cinna.

She’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.


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anonymous asked:

SolarLune here! My question is: What do you think I look like?

Well, since my only clue is your name (unless I cheat and Google it), let’s start from there.

“SolarLune” - a lune of sun-like qualities, right? Geometrically, a lune is defined as “the concave-convex area bounded by two circular arcs,” and is named after the Latin word for moon

There are two of them in this diagram, but you are “Lune” and not “Lunes,” so I’ll pick just one.

Now, the other part - “Solar” - is of the sun. One of the easiest ways to make a face is to add eyes to something, so that should be my next step. I will give you eyes of the sun.

But you would probably blind (or fry) anyone you looked at, so you’d need some means of controlling your powers. Comic books teach me that eye beams can be contained by sunglasses.

Pretty cool, pretty cool.

Now, the last thing I need to capture is the coupling of the sun and the moon in your name. As these are the spheres that govern the light and the dark respectively, I think a reasonable representation of their fusion would be a grey circle:

So there you have it.

The Gymternet’s Own World Championships, 2017!

Why should our favourite elite gymnasts have all the fun? We can hold our own Worlds just after Montreal 2017.  It’ll be super chill and hopefully super fun! Anyone is welcome to participate! 

Interested? Here’s the plan:

  • There are two competition categories, the A-division (who perform easier skills – think USAG level 3 or below) and the B-division (harder skills – USAG level 4 and above). Divisions are per event, not per competitor.  You can compete all A, all B, or some A and some B.
  • Routines comprise of 5 skills in the A-division, and the full 8 skills in the B-division.  What counts as a “routine” is chill.  You can just perform all the skills in a row, but it’s more fun to include choreo!
  • MAG and WAG compete together
  • You don’t have to do all four events if you don’t want to, but there will be an All Around competition.
  • The definition of “vault”, “bars,” “beam”, and “floor” are pretty relaxed.  If you can use the real deal, that’s awesome, but otherwise a patch of floor and a plank of wood are completely acceptable.  Use what you’ve got! Just, please don’t do anything silly and/or sue me. UPDATE: trampoline will be added as a fifth event! It will not count for the all-around.
  • Skill values (different to the elite ones) will be assigned.  They’ll be different for the A and B divisions.  There will also be connection bonuses on the relevant events.
  • The Vault, Bars, Beam, and Floor videos will be released on the first day of Worlds 2017, and voting will open to the Gymternet. Voters assign an execution score, out of 10.  The top and bottom 10% of scores will be dropped, then the rest averaged.  This will be added to the difficulty score.
  • If you submit a skill that’s not in the FIG COP, it will be named for you (obviously unofficially, but still, get cracking on those original skills guys)

Please let me know if you’d be interested in this event! You can either like this post, or reblog it. Reblogging would be better, because more people will see it and we’ll get more competitors! (I’m only a small blog, so not many people will see this unless some of you guys put it out there)

If you’d like to help organise this, come up with the rules, compile the video, or do anything else, please reblog this saying so, or shoot me a message :)

If there’s enough interest for this to go ahead, I and whoever wants to help will put together a “proper” COP with all the skill values, connection bonus, and more specific entry instructions.  Entry will open at the beginning of July, and close in mid-August.  

The COP will be released ASAP (before 1 May) so you have max time to code whore the sh!t out of any dodgy skill valuations.  That should give you two months.

I’m excited for this to go ahead, so please reblog/like to let me know if you are too!

Again, this competition is really relaxed.  We’ll accommodate for absolutely anybody!