they go to earth again

There they go again

Humans as a whole have each of their own ways to communicate with either short bursts of activity or an unimaginable amount of time sending a message that resonates with another of their ilk.

I am Tznnek of Zenzubir under Sector 737-E and I have been tasked to gather as much data as possible about on Human Gestures in different countries.

I hope this will not prove as disastrous as my colleague sustaining injury from observing leap-beasts in Australia.

Observer’s Log – Earth Cycle #4

The younglings (called “teenagers”, see chapter 10.3 for clarification) perform hand gestures they call “fist bumps” as opposed to a nod or a handshake. Some adolescent males would also participate in leaping at each other (???) in mock-attack and bump their shoulders, chest, and abdomen against each other before baring white dentals in a form of a grin.

Perhaps it is a form of assurance in both of their so-called “masculinity”. Perhaps it is merely a source of fun like most humans said. Regardless, this is a good start. Maybe now I will understand exactly why other life forms fear, idolise and dote on these species.

Thank you to the people messaging me your concerns about my absence on here.

To answer your questions–no I am not alright.

I am angry that Daenerys was taken from me while others get to wake up every day with a dog they don’t even want half the time.

I am bitter that others get to celebrate 7th birthdays with their dogs and Daenerys never got her 2nd birthday or Christmas.

I am learning to cope with my grief but I still carry it with me like a bad tattoo.

I am learning to breathe again, but I still choke more often than not.

I am learning to live with just her spirit beside me, but at the moment it haunts me more than it holds me.

“Seventeen Days” (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Fantasy/College AU)

Summary: An angel from heaven is sent back to Earth to prevent college senior Bucky Barnes from ending his life. But here’s the catch - she only has seventeen days to do it.

notes: there is mentioning of potential suicide. i promise nothing jarring and explicit.

A/N: as of now, this is looking like a fantasy-comedy with a few serious moments in between. i’m nervous about this one, but i might as well have fun with it! -j. x

“Seventeen Days” (Masterlist)

It’s a startling feeling to be pulled out of heaven without warning.

You had been relaxing with a drink, basking in the pure musical renditions of an angel who had been a harpist on Earth, when you felt yourself being sucked away in a swift and weightless manner. Within a quick second, your drink is gone, and you find yourself sitting on a comfortable mahogany chair, face-to-face with the guardian of the gates.

“Oh my goodness, girl! It’s been forever since I’ve last seen you!” you squeal, excitedly clapping your hands together.

The guardian of the gates smirks and folds her hands together. “I know. Last time I saw you, you were hyperventilating about the possibility of going to hell,” she points out with a knowing look. “You were by far one of the most amusing freakouts I’ve witnessed in a long time.”

Memories of your judgment day flood into your brain, causing you to grimace. “Ooh, not my proudest moment. Let’s never bring it up again. Okay?”

“That I can’t guarantee,” the guardian muses. “Now, do you have an idea why you’re back here at the gates?”

Throwing your arms into a shrug, you dramatically recount, “Not too sure. I was enjoying the most delectable lemonade when I was suddenly pulled to here without any warning.”

“Shame about the lemonade.” The guardian snaps her fingers, and a fresh glass of lemonade materializes out of nowhere. She watches you with a fixed expression as you sip the tangy and sweet drink with gusto. “Now, may I begin?”

“Please do,” you nod, shooting her a grateful look.

Keep reading

Writing Prompt

Can someone please write a story in an alternate universe where humans and aliens are friendly to each other and a mixed-species crew are going to earth for the resident humans to see their families again and no one else has ever been there and the humans always hyper focus one one or two things about it so the others don’t have a lot of knowledge about earth, and they’re just so freaked out by all the deadly things they find there

and then they visit Australia cause one of the human crew members has grandparents or cousins or someone there, but they’re not Australian themselves so the aliens are just…so unprepared.

Towards Tomorrow

Prompt; Pregnancy Reveal

Requested by @levycchi and @kmmcm


Gajeel was the first one to notice that Levy was pregnant.  

It didn’t outright reveal itself with fanfare or awful morning sickness, but with tiny little changes that he’d notice from day to day. First it had been her smell, growing sweeter from the familiar floral and dust he was used to. It intrigued him everytime he’d wake up next to her, snuggling closer to bury his nose in her hair. Bathing often made no difference, only intensified the smell.  

There were other things he noticed as well, seemingly subtle enough for her not to catch but had been blatantly obvious to the dragon slayer. Her tastes in his food were changing, and she’d frequently asked for spicier foods. However, it seemed to backfire on her, giving her horrible heartburn that often left her in tears. When he offered a more palatable choice, she shocked him by flat out refusing it, leaving him pondering as to why his rarely picky wife was suddenly worse than Asuka whenever they babysat her.  

Then there was the random mood swings she went through, making him nervous on days she’d wake up in tears. He never knew what he did or said to piss her off, even when she claimed that he hadn’t. Nevertheless, he’d find her sobbing over the simplest of things, and merely kept his distance till her tears went away. On the upside, making love to her was far more intense than before. She took more dominant roles than she had used to, but finished before he had a chance to get into it, complaining of her tender breasts whenever he fondled them. Then, she’d snuggle next to him, already asleep before he had a chance to even tease her.  

One day, Pantherlily had offered her some chocolate when she was restless, and she broke out sobbing when she took it, startling them both.  

“Er, Levy? Everything ok?” The Exceed asked, nervously glancing at a frozen Gajeel. She couldn’t answer for a moment, only wrapped her arms around Lily and murmured her thanks as Lily awkwardly patted her back. Gajeel could only watch as she wandered away, calming down as she nibbled on her treat. Lily leaned close, worry on his face as he glanced at the little mage then back at him again.  

“What on earth is going on with her?” He whispered, and Gajeel could only shake his head, at a loss for words. It was rare when her mood could be cured by a simple piece of chocolate and a hug anymore. Frazzled and frustrated, he finally made his way to Porlyusica’s to figure out what the hell was going on, towing a rather grumpy Levy behind him.  

“I’m not sick, dummy,” she growled at him as they reached the doctor’s doorstep. He paused before raising his fist to knock, giving her a long look over till she stamped her foot. “I’m really not, Gajeel!” Tears were prickling at the corners of her eyes, and he could feel the panic start to rise. He reached out and grabbed her arm, tugging her close enough to hug her. He had surprised both of them, but he recovered first, holding her closer and nuzzling her hair.  

“I ain’t said you were sick, Lev,” he muttered, rubbing her stiff shoulders. “I just wanna make sure you’re ok. Think you can handle this for me?”  

She nodded after a moment, relaxing into him as he kissed her crown. He grasped her hands then, leading her inside the older woman’s home.  

Porlyusica wasn’t particularly pleased to see them, but heard the dragon slayer out as he began to explain what he noticed. Setting tea out wasn’t exactly her thing, but placed a cup out anyways in front of a blushing Levy, who sat silent through his entire story. “Was I really that bad?” She asked, her voice soft and uncertain. Before Gajeel could reassure her, Porlyusica cleared her throat, catching her attention.

“If what he says is true, then the next question would have to be when your last cycle was,” she mused, squinting her eyes at the script mage. Levy’s brow furrowed in confusion, then lifted as realization dawned on her. Gajeel, on the other hand, was a bit slower to understand.  

“Cycle? The fuck is tha-”

“A baby?”

He froze as the words left Levy’s mouth, his own eyes widening in comprehension as he looked at her. Baby? As in, she’s pregnant? He thought, the pieces finally clicking into place. It made perfect sense, he mused, nodding slightly as he recalled all that they went through.  


She’s pregnant.

Pregnant with my baby.  

My baby.  

Our baby.


He jumped up and whooped, startling both of the women as he scooped up Levy and hugged her close, whirling her around the tiny room that the old hag called a “waiting room” or whatever bullshit. He laughed as Porlyusica lunged forward to rescue the teacup, snapping at him that this wasn’t a playground and to knock it off before she kicked him out. He gently set his wife on the sofa, kissing her cheek as tears flowed down both their faces. She clung to him as she turned to face the old woman, half giggling, half sobbing.  

“Could it be?” She asked, breathless with hope. Gajeel squeezed her shoulder, giving the doctor the same hopeful look. This was something he’d only dared to dream of, something he nearly lost, something he’d firmly grasp in both hands and refuse to let go of. He couldn’t believe it, they were going to have a baby!

“It’s still too early to tell just by observation,” Porlyusica warned, but the glint in her eye was more optimistic than cautionary. “Dragon senses are too good for their own good, so we’ll take a couple of tests to be sure.”  

Whatever Gajeel was going to say to the subtle jab was interrupted by Levy, who giggled as she wildly nodded her head, squeezing his hand fiercely. They were going to be parents! She could only begin to imagine what having a baby was like, but one thing was for sure; as long as they were together they could handle anything!

anonymous asked:

Hi ladies! Love everything you do? Can we get something with Claire doing something badass and Jamie being scared for her yet proud and impressed cuz, ya know, she's HIS foul mouthed, badass Sassenach :D

Mute: Part Eight:

Find other parts: HERE.

Yawning, Claire hiccuped, the lasting taste of whisky coating her tongue as she shifted her weight delicately against the straw pallet.

Against her back, Jamie wrapped his arm fully around her waist and pulled her close.

Claire stilled, panic slowly slithering down her spine as repressed memories sparked behind her eyes. Slinking out from beneath Jamie, she clenched her hands into fists as she stood, pacing the length of the quiet barn.

The sun had only just begun to rise and the subtle shades of deep orange filtered through the panels of the wood, sending eerie shadows floating across the straw coated floor. The cold bit at her nose as she wiped it delicately on her sleeve, trying desperately to ward away her past.

Murtagh, awoken by her pacing, leaned up on his elbow and watched as Claire walked off her anguish. He could see the tense set of her shoulders, and although he wondered what had set the lass off, he let her be. Knowing that she would come to either him or Jamie if she needed to work through her concerns with them.

Her eyes, unfocused as they were, failed to notice her erstwhile voyeur as he kept watch over her. Unable to rest, she grabbed the sweeping brush and began to brush the stray straw into tiny mounds at one end of the stable. With nobody to talk to, she needed to keep her hands busy.

Jamie, suddenly overcome with a chill, opened his eyes to find Claire gone. It didn’t take him long to find her, huddled up the corner clutching the battered broom between her fingers. Sensing her nervousness, he walked slowly forwards, wrapping his bedraggled kilt around his hips as he went.

“Claire,” he whispered, knowing she wouldn’t be able to read his lips in the darkened space. Reaching out, he let his fingers rest idly against her frozen hand.

Dropping the brush, Claire flopped against Jamie’s chest, exhaustion filling her from head to toe. She had only been up a matter of hours but the effect of her panic was showing.

“Hush now, a nighean,” Jamie soothed, rocking her backwards and forwards, his mouth resting softly against her ear in the hopes that she could actually hear, if only wee bits of his speech.

Pushing herself upright, Claire pulled back, needing another moment to herself. Slipping her hands beneath the fabric of the skirts of her shift, she fiddled with the inner hem, plucking at the thin fibres that held the loose fabric together.

Jamie could tell she wanted to talk, but his limited knowledge of sign language would make much more than a sentence difficult to comprehend.

“Murtagh?” He called, certain that his godfather would be awake by now.

Shaking her head, Claire moved further back, her feet shuffling along the –now clean– floorboards.

Bringing her hands up, she began to sign, clearly still on edge as Murtagh came up behind Jamie, his brows drawn together in confusion.

‘It was a long time ago now, Jamie, don’t worry…please.’

Jamie shifted his focus from Claire to Murtagh having only caught a few words in her hand gestures, nothing that he could be certain was right.

Waiting, Jamie held himself at a distance whilst Murtagh addressed Claire, trying to keep up with their silent conversation. Claire blushed and dipped her head, letting her curls fall loose over her face as she communicated with Murtagh.

“She’s, well…” Murtagh began, reticent to tell Jamie what she had told him. “Claire’s engaged –or was–, t’ an Englishman.”

Shocked by the news, Jamie took a step backwards, swallowing as he absorbed the news. It shouldn’t have hit him as harshly as it had. It had been clear to him from the beginning that she’d more experience than he. Appearing out of the blue without any noticeable proof of where she’d come from, he should have guessed she either had a distinctly grey passed or was running from something.

As it was, swept up in their whirlwind of their feelings for one another, he had thought little about it.

Until now.

He watched as she brought her head back up, tears brimming in her eyes as she signed some more and waited for Murtagh to translate for her.

“She wants me to tell ye that she doesna love him, that she left him-” he paused, waiting for her to continue on before translating the rest, “I think she says because he hurt her, but I canna be sure. There are signs she’s using that I dinna ken.”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Claire steadied herself and reached for Jamie, needing the contact just for a moment before giving Murtagh a message.

“She says she’ll write it for ye, that,” furrowing his brow once more, Murtagh leaned forwards and watched carefully as Claire darted towards the entrance to the stables, her hands leaving Jamie’s sides in an instant as she signed ‘I love you’, and skittered off.

“I take it ye caught the meaning o’ her last words, lad?” Murtagh questioned, not wanting the poor boy to remain in the dark.

“Aye. Aye, I did.” Pausing, Jamie ran his fingers through his hair, tangling them in the mass of knots that littered his sleep-mussed locks. “Do ye think…” he began, his heart pounding against his ribcage at the mere thought of her with anyone else.

“Nah, she’s wi’ *ye* right enough. Through her constant harassment by Dougal she’s stayed, and I doubt anyone is coming for her anytime soon. Dinna fash, Jamie lad. Whatever comes of her writing to ye, I can guarantee that lassie is devoted to ye.”

In the cold damp of the old surgery, Claire battled to find a dry sheet of paper and a working quill, desperate not to be on her own in the deep confines of the castle for too long.

As fast as she could she wrote down the finite details of her ordeal, excluding her trip through time. She was certain she’d be able to convince Jamie that nobody was coming for her. She just needed to get this out. He needed to know about her past so he could actively decide if she was worth marrying.

A hand reached out and grabbed her arm, swinging her round just as she finished the final sentence, messing up the ink on the last word.

Dougal stood at her side, his face bright red as he held onto her.

He was drunk, she could smell the ripe whisky on his breath as he pulled her close to his face.

‘No…’ she mouthed, a short half silent gasp falling from her lips as the air passed through her useless voicebox.

“Dinna ye fight me!” He all but shouted in her face, his eyes boring holes into hers as he walked her backwards.

Still reeling from their first encounter, and raw from the note she’d just penned to Jamie discussing her past acquaintances with men, Claire battled hard to free herself.

Driving her knee hard, she slammed her leg into his groin, pushing him back with one big jolt as she tugged her arm free. She’d have bruises, no doubt, but that was nothing in comparison with anything else he might do with her should he gain power over her.

No more, she decided, grabbing a small stood from the corner of the room and lifting it over her head as if to strike.

She waited, though, hoping that the stupid drunken fool would reconsider any further action once he stood and saw her ready for battle.

“Why…” he started, a mean glint behind his eyes as he stumbled upright, clutching his crotch in a feeble attempt to stop the pain, “ye little wench. I’ll have ye…”

Dropping the stool with measured accuracy, Claire smacked the warchief right on the top of the head, watching as the half smashed wood ricocheted off in a myriad of different directions leaving Dougal in a passed out heap on the floor.

Slamming her foot into his side, she made sure that the fool was completely under before stepping over him, her heart racing as she bolted for the exit.

Murtagh and Jamie stood at the bottom of the stairs, both of their mouths hanging open as they watched Claire fight herself free.

The moment they’d heard the racket beneath, both Fraser men had dashed downwards to see what on earth was going on.

On seeing Claire –yet again– in Dougal’s grubby hands, Jamie had all but launched himself forwards, meaning to break the pair apart and do some serious damage to his inebriated uncle.

Murtagh, though, saw the intense look on Claire’s face. She needed this chance to stand up for herself, he decided. She needed to know she had the strength and power to get herself free of any unexpected situation that might arise when either he and Jamie weren’t directly on hand to assist. So he had put his arm out and forced Jamie to stay where he was, whispering a soft - ‘we’re here, ken. Let the lass find hersel’. If she doesna –we’ll stop Dougal afore he does anything.’

As Claire caught sight of Jamie and Murtagh, she shook the terror from her bones, the mix of adrenaline and fear running hot through her veins as she shakily picked the note from the table and handed it to a very angry Jamie.

‘Read it, I’ll be waiting…I truly do love you, Jamie Fraser.’

Squeezing her way passed him, Claire looked straight ahead not daring to even look back as she made her way upwards once more, determined to flee the castle as quickly as possible.

The cold air hit her hard as she stumbled down the narrow stone pathway leading away from the Leoch portcullis, the dim hum of the morning meal vibrating through the cobbles as she meandered off towards the stables. Seeking peace, she made herself at home beneath a large tree out in the paddock, letting the wind whip around her as she leaned her head back and let out a large breath.

Pacing the surgery still, Jamie crumpled the wee note in between his fingers, smudging the hurriedly written text as he smashed it with his palms.

“Easy, lad.” Murtagh soothed, watching his godson as he strode up and down the tiny room, anger ablaze behind his eyes. “Do ye think she’s no’ struggling wi’ this too?”

“That’s why she near bolted this morning, aye? When I came up behind her. Iffrinn!”

“Filthy English brutes if ye ask me, and her intended…” Murtagh scoffed, spitting at his feet and wiping his shoes through the damp dirt as if to rid himself of the taste, “letting them anywhere near her wi’ their vile touch.”

“Aye, I ken,” Jamie returned, a dark menace lacing his tone, “he had better no’ find himself here, Murtagh.”

“Yer right, we’ll skin the bastard.”

Forgetting themselves, the men bandied words to and fro, their ire heightening as they tried to comprehend how Claire’s situation had gone so awry.

She’d put a little detail into her letter, starting with the basic facts.

Claire had, as she had stated to Murtagh before, been engaged to be married. An English man of high birth it seemed, with some money behind him. Her uncle, before he’d passed, had made sure she had someone around to take care of her. But with the approaching war, her man had been called away, and her with it.

She had also written about her health. She’d still been unable to speak, having been born with the illness that had affected her voice, but she could hear. Perfectly.

At first there had been no issues. Claire had lived in quarters beside her husband, she’d been a healer and had assisted the men with it whenever possible. But then things had taken a turn for the worse.

Drunk one night, her husband had called her to his chambers, handsy and well passed the stage of coherence, he had insisted they lie together as man and wife, almost desperate to get his hands on Claire.

…and she’d gone with him, done as he wished. Eager to please him, her naivety had obliterated anything sensical and she had lost her virginity to him that night.

There was a macabre undertone to her words as she continued on with her sad tale, the words almost deflating as the neatness she’d begun with faded making way for minor errors in spelling. Jamie could see where she’d been holding back her anguish whilst writing, the unsteady lilt to the letters showing her nervousness at writing such a thing.

Unfolding the mass of paper, Jamie smoothed out the sheet and halved it neatly, not wanting to see the words but knowing he couldn’t simply throw this away. Nobody else needed to read it.

Dougal. Jamie had completely forgotten, his attention drawn completely to Claire’s revelation, about his unconscious uncle. Quickly checking his pulse, he carefully moved the man, draping a blanket over his listless form so that he might just assume he’d passed out, rather than been brutally incapacitated by Claire.

Without needing further reminders, he jerked his head towards the exit and marched off in search of Claire. He needed to have her close, and he was pretty sure she needed him too.

With Dougal’s new assault and her confession, she was sure to be feeling more than a little vulnerable.

As he neared the large arch leading out of the castle, Mrs Fitz came storming from the kitchens, a large smile plastered on her face and a large swill of ale resting on her hip.

“Jamie, my boy!” She laughed, her voice echoing through the half empty courtyard, “Collum has made arrangements wi’ us for yer nuptials. I’m sae glad to see a wedding, we havena had one in a wee while. Are ye ready for yer bands to be read in church this week?”

Nodding, Jamie placed his hand on Glenna’s shoulder, trying to ease the pent up look of aggression he’d worn as he’d left Beaton’s old surgery. “Aye, Mrs Fitz, I am. I thank ye for yer kind words, but I must away. My bride is needing me to bring her breakfast.”

“Ach, awa’ wi’ ye then, laddie…and gi’ her a wee kiss from me.”

With a final wave, Jamie freed himself and dashed off, incredibly aware of the time he’d taken between letting Claire leave and now.

“Where do ye think she’ll be?” Jamie questioned, his feet moving as fast as he could get them to go in the direction of their self-made home.

“I dinna think she’ll be far, nay matter what she’ll wait for ye. I can promise you that much.” Murtagh muttered, his eyes scanning the horizon for any hint of the lass.

“There,” he pointed, his hand coming up to tug at Jamie’s sleeve as he noticed movement beneath one of the trees, “sitting on that wee root.”

Turning in the direction, Jamie slowed himself, folding his hands against his stomach as he made his way towards her, keen to make his presence known, not wanting to spook her.

Claire, sensing that she wasn’t alone, looked up, her eyes rimmed red as she glanced warily at Jamie and Murtagh.

“Nay matter what ye’ve told me, Claire” Jamie began, wishing to quash any doubts she had before he spoke further, “I willna severe our union, aye? I love you, and that isna something I say lightly.”

Claire nodded, her nose tinting red as she pursed her lips and swallowed back the relief.

‘When I came here…when I found you. Even after all the heartbreak before, I felt something. It pulled at me, rearranging my insides almost.’

Murtagh translated, as roughly as he was able, whilst Claire stood, coming face to face with Jamie as she signed to him.

‘I didn’t feel his touch on my skin anymore, I felt the echo of you. You might think me daft, hallucinating memories of things that hadn’t even come to pass, but I swear to you it’s true. What happened, what he let happen…I let it happen too, was foolish. I was young and desperate to be taken seriously. But it didn’t matter. I was a joke. They all thought me useful for only one thing, the bloody bastards!’

Placing his palm against her cheek, Jamie took a step forward, his eyes softening as he watched Claire’s harsh gaze, her foot kicking at the soft soil and loosening the wet grass.

“You are so strong, sassenach. Stronger than me, aye?”

Slipping backwards, Murtagh tried to give the lovers some space as Jamie calmed Claire’s frayed nerves. Seeing the flourishing bruises on her arms only made his stomach clench, renewing the anger that he’d managed to subdue before.

Dougal was a hot-headed buffoon, but he was mostly harmless. His aim was always to scare Claire into submission, and when that hadn’t worked he’d simply lost his temper. Even though that was no excuse for his reckless behaviour, comparing that to who Claire had almost married, made him look like a saint.

After his first dalliance with her; Claire’s *honourable* husband-to-be had returned to her bed only a few days later. Only this time, not only was he drunk, but in the company of some other intoxicated army brutes. All of whom had accosted the pair, claiming the admittance of their lovemaking false. Prompted to *prove it*, Claire had been forced into a corner. Either she complied with the request, taking him to her bed whilst the others watched on, or she lost face.

Wanted to appear strong, Claire had metaphorically slapped them in the face, declaring herself no coward as she accepted their vagualy pornagraphic challenge.

She hadn’t wanted to face them during, so had lain with her back facing, her head buried beneath the pillows as she tried to reign in her emotions.

*They’re just men*, she had muttered internally, over and over, *just men and they cannot hurt me, not if I choose not to be hurt*.

But that had been a lie, something she later couldn’t sustain as she’d lay in a blast zone, her ears ringing with the pressure, shell shocked and locked in hushed world of near silence.

*He* had left her soon after that, deployed to a new location, his men sent with him and she had elected to stay behind.

They hadn’t gotten physical with her, she’d noted, but they had made themselves known. Their repulsive, slimy hands had roamed over the bared expanse of her back. And every now and again memories of them would re-surface, making her heart lurch and her palms sweat.

‘I wanted to prove myself,’ 

Claire continued, a revived power underpinning her wild hand gestures, 

‘I wanted to show them that it didn’t matter, they could mock me all they liked, but it was *my* body, and *my* choice.’

Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, and Jamie, rocked by the epiphany, pulled in a ragged breath, his fingers sliding gently against Claire’s smooth skin.

‘You, Jamie Fraser, I don’t know what it was about you, but it felt as if I needed you. As if I couldn’t breathe. You lay there at night, your eyes semi-blinking as you slept…and if I reached out to you, you’d smile and my fingertips would pulse with the energy of it.’

“…and ye wanted me because o’ that?” Jamie broke in, interrupting Murtagh’s very quiet translations.

‘I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. I forgot everything that came before. My –disability– my lack of voice, of hearing, it wasn’t even a factor for you. When I realised that, that’s when I loved you. Because, whether you knew it or not, you loved me. I knew being physical with you, kissing you and bringing you to my bed, was frowned upon. I saw the disapproval in everyone’s eyes when they looked at me. Not only because they were afraid I was…simple, but because they couldn’t accept my forwardness.’

Taking a breath, Claire raised her hand, placing it on Jamie’s chest just over his heart as she measured its pace. Thrumming beneath her fingers, she smiled through the pain, small trails of moisture falling from her eyes as she did so.

‘I just wanted you, all of you…and I would have done anything to make that happen. Come what may.’

“C’mere, Claire,” Jamie whispered, his words catching in his throat as he brought he towards his chest, curling her against him as he swayed from side to side.

Nuzzling his neck, Claire basked in his body heat, her hands clenched tightly in the material of his thick woolen coat.

“I’m yours, Claire. Just as ye are mine…and nobody will part us now, I promise ye that.” He muttered, making sure to pronounce his words clearly as he placed his mouth against her ear and spoke.

Pushing herself closer still, Claire nodded into his chest, her chin catching on the buttons with the motion.

“She says she loves ye, dafty that ye are,” Murtagh relayed, sarcasm lacing his tone as he continued, “but I think ye owe me a whisky fer all that, and afore ye ask, lad, I amne following ye home to enlighten ye further. I’m off to check on yon Dougal Mackenzie. See if the auld bastard has risen from his deep slumber.”

Chuckling, Jamie twisted his head to the side just in time to see Murtagh slink off back towards the castle. He really would have to make sure the man got a good bottle after all of his assistance.

Leaning her away just a little, Jamie tilted Claire’s chin up so that he could look her over.

“Shall I take ye home now, mo nighean? I think ye need a wee bit of rest, I’ll stay wi’ ye, I promise.”

Taking his hand, Claire kissed his fingers with a sort of languorous caress that lulled him into serenity as he stood in the paddock.

‘Yes, I’d like that.’

“Good,” he replied, his eyes lightening at the prospect, “because I wasna going to take ‘no’ fer an answer.”

tamlin and feyre’s love

“I love you, thorns and all.” 

The fact that Feyre and Tamlin’s love resembles a rose says many things about their relationship.

A rose is typically the flower to resemble love on Valentine’s day, a gift to your significant other, etc. 

In ACOTAR, Feyre and Tamlin’s love was passionate and deep. They loved each other — think of it like a rose blooming. When in full bloom, they are truly in love and would go to the ends of the earth to find each other again. Lustful, faithful, imaginative. 

But a rose has thorns, does it not?

Tamlin said he loves Feyre, thorns and all. I think the thorns resemble the dangers of love. Note that Rhys once said love can be a poison as well. 

The thorns show the dangers and unhealthiness of loving someone too much. It shows that when you do love someone too much, too much that it can become a sickness, the thorns are what suffocate you. The rose may be blooming endlessly but the thorns are stabbing you constantly. Telling you, this is wrong, this isn’t right, this is an overdose of something not right.

Here is research to back up what I said:

A proverb is a short and wise saying that expresses a basic truth about life or mankind. “Every rose has its thorn” is a famous proverb generally used to teach an important fact about human nature-nobody is perfect. Even the rose, beautiful and enticing, is not without its flaws; the prickly thorns of the rose can poke and pierce the flesh. In fact, there is a type of plant in the Rose family, Hawthorn, whose thorns are toxic to the eye, and scratching of the cornea with it often leads to loss of vision. Even something as beautiful as a rose has its flaws.

Alternatively, “Every rose has its thorn” can be understood to speak of life situations, teaching the valuable life lesson that even the best situations have their down-sides. It follows, therefore, that even the bad situations have their positive sides.

Just something Sheithy I’ve been wanting to write out.  After Shiro’s rescue....

The garrison trio had gathered together on Keith’s couch, exchanging words in anxious yet elated conversation.  

“Man, that was so close.  Imagine if they’d caught us.  We’d be kicked out of garrison.”

“Kicked out of the garrison?  We could have gotten arrested.”

“All I know is, I’m glad to be off that bike.  I thought I was going to puke.”

In his cramped shack, there couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve feet in between him and the group, but their voices began to fade farther and farther away as Keith turned his back to them and faced the window.  An old, ratty sheet covered the glass, obstructing his view of the outside.  When he carefully pulled it away from the window, Keith felt his throat tighten.

He was there.  Shiro was there, and he was alive.  Breathing.  On Earth.  With Keith.

Shiro was standing on a small mound of dirt, his gazed fixed upon his arm.  The right arm that was all tech, no flesh.  A sharp chill ran through Keith.  What the hell happened to him?  What was out there in the vastness of space that could do this to him?

Keith breathed in slowly through his nose, as if readying himself.  He didn’t know how many times he had imagined this moment until he finally just gave up hope of it ever happening.  For the first few months, he was so sure; he knew it in his bones that Shiro was alive.  But as the year dragged on, the uncertainty crept in and settled itself inside of Keith’s chest.  Everyone else seemed to believe Shiro was dead.  Maybe they were right.  Maybe Keith had truly missed his chance to tell Shiro how he felt.  And he hated himself for it.

And then Keith got booted from the garrison and ended up here.  Never in his dreams did he think Shiro would too.

He left the shack, and as he made his way toward Shiro, he could feel his heart start to race.  What was the matter with him?  Why, in the midst of his friend’s incredible return, did he feel the need to turn around and run as far away as he could?  As Keith stopped beside Shiro and reached out to set a hand on his shoulder, the answer struck him square in the chest.  

He was terrified.  If he touched him now, would his friend disappear in a cloud of smog, like in his nightmares?  

Keith clasped his hand gingerly on Shiro’s shoulder and cool relief flooded through him.  This was real, and Shiro was here.  “It’s good to have you back,” Keith said as evenly as he could.  

Shiro turned his head to look at Keith, breathing out a soft laugh.  “It’s good to be back.”

“I… Shiro, I missed you.” The words tumbled out of Keith’s mouth before could stop them.  He pulled his hand away from Shiro’s shoulder, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

But there was no confusion on Shiro’s face and certainly no shame.  Without a hint of irony, he smiled at Keith, a warm, understanding smile that banished away any tension Keith felt in his muscles.  “I missed you, too, Keith,” he said quietly.

Keith stood there, stunned by the sincerity in his words.  He didn’t know how to respond, but Shiro had spared him a heavy silence and continued, his gaze then turned toward the rising sun, “I wish I could tell you what happened.  It’s all a blur.  There was pain.  A lot of it.  I remember… wanting to die.”

“Shiro…” Keith had to whisper to keep his voice from breaking.

“But,” his friend went on wistfully, and Keith wasn’t prepared for the tender look in Shiro’s eyes when they met his, “I thought of you, constantly, and I knew I needed to survive somehow and get back to Earth.  I remember thinking that I needed to find my way back to you, no matter what.”

This had to be a dream.  A cruel, hyper-realistic dream that was just stemming from his months of isolation in this god-forsaken desert.  How could Keith have gone from missing his chance to having it thrust back into his arms overnight?  How could Shiro have gone from dead in space to alive and breathing, here on Earth.  With Keith.  “What.. what are you saying?” he manage to stammer out, feeling more and more foolish that he couldn’t find anything worth while to say.

Without warning, Shiro pulled Keith into a tight embrace, so tight it almost hurt.  Keith could feel his warm breath on his neck, and a shudder rippled through him.  Forsaking any more muddled thoughts, he clasped his arms behind Shiro’s back and squeezed, pressing his cheek against his chest.  He could feel Shiro’s heart against his ear, beating steady but fast.

“I’m saying that I’m not going anywhere, ever again.” Though muffled, the promise and certainty rang clear in his voice.  “I’m not going to leave you again.  Okay?”

Something was coming to earth; Keith could feel it.  It was something dangerous, and it had everything to do with the strange energy that drew him to the deserts.  But in that moment, none of that mattered.  Whatever was coming, they would face it, and if it was Shiro they were after, they’d have to go through Keith first.  He was not going to lose him again.  He closed his eyes and just let himself feel Shiro’s embrace before whispering back, “Okay.”


anonymous asked:

11 and Clint Barton?

Characters: Reader x Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

Warnings: violence, swearing and mentions of death

Prompts: “If I die, I’m going to haunt your ass.”

Word Count: 472

A/N: this prompt is so Clint tbh


“y/n, get back to the ship!” Clint roared into his radio from the cockpit, watching you below trying to defend yourself against an army of foreign aliens. It seemed like it was just yesterday that the Avengers were all in New York, and now Earth was being attacked again by aliens.

“Just go without me!” you yelled back, firing at an alien’s head. “I’ll catch up with you!”

“Like hell you are!” Clint shouted, carefully hovering the ship above you. It was too crowded to land the ship, and Clint was afraid of firing the ship’s guns and hurting you by accident. There was a rope dangling a short distance away from you, but there were at least a dozen aliens standing in your way.

“Clint, go!” you exclaimed desperately, and Clint faltered. From his other radio he could hear Fury yelling at him to get out, but Clint was not going to leave you behind. 

“Shit!” Clint slammed his fists on console in frustration and tore his headset off. Grabbing his bow and arrows, he put the ship into autopilot and leapt out of the back. He fired an arrow into an alien’s back, and they all abruptly turned around. Just as they started barrelling towards Clint, the arrow exploded, killing them all. 

With the path now temporarily clear, you didn’t hesitate to start sprinting towards Clint. He grabbed your waist and lifted you onto the rope, which you grabbed and began climbing up. Clint grabbed the rope too, but turned to see another squad of aliens approaching. He grabbed his arrows and starting firing, and you paused halfway up the rope and looked down.

“Leave them, Clint!” you yelled. “Just get onto the ship!”

“They’ll catch up to us!” Clint didn’t look up and continued firing. “You go first!” 

“Clint-” you protested, and Clint temporarily looked up.

“If I die, I’m going to haunt your ass.” he gave you a small smirk, and you rolled your eyes. “Just go! I’ll be fine.”

You quickly climbed up the rope, finally hauling yourself onto the ship. You looked below to see the aliens advancing towards Clint, and scrambled around the ship. Grabbing a grenade, you pulled out the pin and looked down again.

“Clint, climb!” you yelled, and Clint looked up to see you holding the grenade. Without hesitation, he leaped up onto the rope and scrambled up as you dropped the grenade. It exploded beneath Clint as he reached the ship, and you grabbed his arm and pulled him up. You threw your arms around him and buried your face into his shoulder, and he held you tightly, rubbing your back.

“Don’t tell me you actually thought I was going to die?” Clint teased, and you laughed shakily.

“Don’t ever do that again.” you mumbled, and Clint smiled and nodded.

the-winged-wolf-bran-stark  asked:

I don't think it's in your area of expertise but... what are your thoughts on the Jojenpaste theory? How do you think Jojen will meet his end?

I don’t believe in the Jojen Paste theory. @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly and @poorquentyn already covered this quite nicely so I’m just gonna let them do the dirty work for me:

  1. if you’re trying to log on to the Weirwood Net, logically you’d use something made from weirwood
  2. the paste is red because weirwood sap is red
  3. although the show and the books are completely separate, jojen dying on the show when he did probably confirms that he was not made into paste
  4. and @poorquentyn points out that weirwood paste seems related to shade of the evening, suggesting that Bran ate a plant

With all that out of the way, I can spend my time talking about more important things, aka ASOIAF themes. Because thematically, this passage has never suggested cannibalism to me:

It had a bitter taste, though not so bitter as acorn paste. The first spoonful was the hardest to get down. He almost retched it right back up. The second tasted better. The third was almost sweet. The rest he spooned up eagerly. Why had he thought that it was bitter? It tasted of honey, of new-fallen snow, of pepper and cinnamon and the last kiss his mother ever gave him.

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What she says: I’m fine

What she means: What if it really was Keith’s mom in the pod in the belly of the Weblum and she had been trying to get scultrite to get a teledauv working again to go back to Earth and get Keith but she got trapped and that’s why Keith grew up without a family. That’s why this mysterious Galra was so adamant about taking at least a bag of the scultrite from Keith but not harming him, not because she recognized him but because she was just so desperate to get to her son that she didn’t even know her son was right in front of her

anonymous asked:

Comforting Kara after a nightmare?

You wake up at night to Kara thrashing around in bed. You aren’t able to shake her from whatever dream she’s having and you’re not about to pour water on her. She eventually wakes up, you can see the tear streaks on her cheeks from the glow of the streetlights out the window.

Before you could get a word out to ask what’s wrong she’s clinging to you, sobs racking her body. You’re unaware how to solve the problem at first, Kara’s your rock it’s not usually the other way around. You’d just started dating and you’d known her secret for a while now, but you’re still getting used to this whole relationship thing.

Being in a relationship means having each others back, and after all Kara might be from another planet but she longs for the same compassion you do. As her girlfriend you need to give to her what she gives to you, without expecting much in return.

You reassure her with a soft voice and by rubbing small circles on her back, she doesn’t stop crying for a while but when she does you know not to pressure her into talking about her dream. 

“Krypton,” she whispers after while. You’re confused for a second, not remembering what that means but then you do. She’s homesick, she misses what she had and can’t get back. You push off the bed to get your car keys so you can drive her to the DEO, or Alex’s apartment. She chooses to visit Alex, the car ride over to her sisters apartment is quiet. You hand her your phone at a red light, asking her to call Alex and Maggie to tell them that you’re coming.

“Kara what is it?” Alex questions, you can hear that she’s tired, and Maggie waking up wondering what’s going on in the background. Alex shushes her, telling Maggie to go back to bed. Kara sniffles before sobbing and your heart breaks a little bit more. 

“Hey, Kara, how far away are you two? I’m awake, Maggie’s awake too, what do you need us to do?” Alex asks, her voice now concerned. Kara mumbles something you don’t hear over the traffic in front of you. You pull off the road to the back alley of Alex’s complex.

“We’re here, well be up in a minute,” Kara replies, her voice is small and fragile, she’s not keeping together well. You’re both still in pajamas when you both get to the door, Maggie’s waiting in the kitchen when you two walk in.

“I didn’t know what kind of issue it was so I figured I’d put out something strong and something not,” she says, nodding at each hand. Her right has a bottle of scotch, the other a gallon of milk. You thank her, directing Kara to the couch to sit while you go talk to Alex.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Maggie calls out after you. You knock on the door before peeking your head in. Alex is getting what you can only assume to be painkillers down from the cabinet.

“I’m assuming NSAIDS don’t work on Kara?” you joke. Alex turns around, the pills jumping in their container as she didn’t hear you come in.

“Uh no, they don’t, they’re for me.” she mumbles, her tone is sheepish as if she’s embarrassed she has to take them. You don’t question it as much as you hope that she’s okay, and that Maggie knows about it. You shake your head and tell her that Kara said something about krypton, that you figure it’s the same nightmares as last time. Alex nods before heading out to comfort Kara.


Kara quiets down after talking to Alex. Alex insists it’s not an issue that you both stay here for the night, Kara’s already dozing off on the couch and you’re sitting at the breakfast bar, shoulders slumped. Maggie starts putting the cups in the sink while Alex sits down next to you.

“Don’t tell me you need comforting too?” she sighs, you know she’s joking but you’d take her up on it if she wasn’t so tired.

“It’s fine, just personal stuff,” you brush off the question, not wanting to tell either of them you feel like an inadequate girlfriend.

“You know she’s scared right?” Maggie says, sitting across from you both. “She’s scared of losing her whole world again, Y/N.”

“Earth isn’t going anywhere, the sun isn’t going to explode for-”

Alex shushes you, whispering that that’s not what Maggie meant. It hits you as you glance over at Kara, resting on the couch. She meant you.

Glide (Mulligan x Reader) 6

Words: 1400+

Warnings: cussing? (i think)

A/N: i am honestly not as motivated as I used to be while writing this, so if this seems forced then im sorry

Part: One Two Three Four Five

Thomas walked to his apartment. He sighed, pushing his key into the lock. The door opened by itself, and after further examination, he realized it was broken. He pushed the door open quickly, looking around.

The apartment was a mess, cabinet and drawers opened wide. The first thing he ran to was his room, opening the floor board. He sighed in relief, seeing the photo album still there. He ran his fingers through it quickly, and stopped on one of the last pages. There was a blank space, where the photo of you and him at your graduation. He ran his fingers over the spot, frowning.

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Bellarke Future Theory

So I guess by now we can assume that the leaked script was accurate.

Which means Bellarke will be separated. 

But imagine this…so Bellamy and Clarke have their hug scene, which leads to a kiss, which leads to a fade away.

The rest of the episode happens and Clarke is left, presumably to die. She doesn’t though, because now she is a night blood. 

Next season picks up five years later with the reveal that Clarke is alive..but wait, why is she not alone? With her is a four year old little boy with pitch plack curls and he calls Clarke Mom.

Boom. And then the spacers get back to earth and Clarke and her son go to Polis. Everybody meets again. Now, obviously, Bellamy is with Echo. Probably he even thought Clarke was dead.

But, nope, she isn’t. She is alive and she raised their son* all on her own. And you have unlimited angst for the next season.

*obviously he is a night blood like his mother, so he was save from the radiation.