this idea was a lot better in my head

A bad idea written down is far better and far more useful to you than a blank sheet of paper and a mythical piece of brilliance that has been stuck in your head out of fear of failure. Go ahead and fail. Then make it better.

My screenwriting prof.

I felt like a lot of people needed to hear this. Including myself.


So Tumblr doesn’t allow picture formatting to ask answers, whoops.

An anon asked me how2draw hair (’specifically wavy or curly’), and here’s my process.  You really have to draw/paint hair a lot to get an idea of how it should look in my opinion, but hopefully you can glean something from this^ Check the captions for extra tips :)

Tips for new daddies!

Hey! So, I’ve decided to compile a list of things for new daddys/doms. This list is for daddy’s with littles (age regressors). If there is anything you feel I’ve left out, feel free to let me know!

-They’re your little, make them feel like one. She/he is going to want to be in little space, so let them. Help them into it. A simple phrase gets my little into little space, so find out what works best for them.

-Establish rules. Try not to get over 20 rules, cause they can get hard to remember after a while. My little personally has 27, but some of our rules are common sense, so she remembers them easily. Be on the lookout for a rules list next. 

-Be supportive of them. If you’re both new, they may want to experiment with pacis, bottles, sippy cups, diapers, etc. Make sure the both of you talk it out and be there for them. Even if they are experienced in dd/lg and knows what they want, never ignore them. Be there and be supportive. 

-Punish bad behavior. I know, I know. You love them and don’t want to make them sad/upset. But trust me, when they start acting up in public and embarrassing you, you’re gonna wish you had started punishing them. 

-Take care of them. If you’re not in a LDR, this is a little easier. If you live together, tuck them in, or make meals, bathe them (with her permission), read them bedtime stories, and other small things to keep them in good health. If you are in a LDR, you can still read bedtime stories over FaceTime/skype, make sure they’re eating well, make them study, etc. 

-Know their stuffies names.  I cannot stress this enough. It seems like a small task, but it means so much to them that you remember their names. It also means a lot to the stuffies if you know their names (they also are very nice to you if you remember their names and dont put bad idea in your littles head as they often do) 

-Know a few cute nicknames. Underrated, but my little loves cute nicknames. Princess, baby girl, kitten, little one, little girl, etc. 

-Find your ‘daddy voice’. It’s your strict, ‘you better stop it right now’ voice that you use on your little when they’re breaking a rule, or doing something bad. It works wonders. 

-Don’t be afraid to be their daddy in public. I’m not saying to make them call you daddy in front of other people (don’t do that. the people around you didn’t ask for you to expose your kink to them) but if she’s with friends and you hear her curse, you can look at her and raise your eyebrows. She’ll get the point. I tend to tap her on the butt as a warning, but if she does it more than once, ill whisper in her ear something like ‘princesses don’t curse like that. Timeout for you later’. 

-Know their little space triggers. There isn’t much I can say about that, other than to just know what puts her in little space. 

-Have fun! Don’t let the haters drag you down, cause I know there are a ton of them out there. Enjoy your awesome relationship. 

Victuuri Week ☆ 

Day 1AU: Other Sports/Careers

Flower shop AU because I couldn’t stop imagining Victor working in a small shop near Yuri’s university, and he’s happy working with all the flowers and seeing the customers pleased with the bouquets he makes. One day Yuri listens to his friend Pichit and decides to go buy a few flowers to give a cozy touch to his flat… and he can’t help but being awed by the beautiful angel that greets him by the door. After that day, Yuri decides that his flat looks a lot better with the flowers and becomes a regular customer.

Burrito Blanket Batmom - Bruce Wayne/Batfamily x Reader

I kinda love the idea of a “burrito blanket” batmom haha, and since I thought the request from anonymous I received was quite similar, I mixed them up together. Hope you’ll like it, particularly you @dannysanime, as usual, feedbacks are very welcome :) : 

(My masterlist blog here :


-Are you alright mother ?

It’s early in the morning when your youngest son finds you in the living room, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, eyes wide open and not really looking at anything in particular. You don’t even react as he approaches you. 

-Mother ? Hey ? Mom are you alright ? 

Finally, you turn your head to look at him, blanket all the way up to your chin and wrapped around your head (and all around your body really, your face the only thing peering out of this burrito you made of yourself), you say in a croaked voice : 


Damian is immediately worried. It isn’t often, if not never, that you complain. That you let things get you down. You’re the cheery one of the family. You and Dick often are the ones that see the positive things in everything, so, seeing you there, laying on the couch without even the TV on, and looking as if you were completely done with life…Well, it worries your kid. 

You realize that he’s concerned about your well being when he kneels in front of you, and put his palm on your forehead. Oh, sweet boy. If only everyone could see him as you saw him, if only he’d be as nice with everyone as he is with you…No one would ever call him “brat” anymore. 

-I’m not sick honey, I’m just…I’m just….erf…

-…You’re just “erf” ?

You shrug your shoulder. Or at least, Damian thinks you shrug your shoulder, he isn’t really sure, seeing as you’re wrapped tightly in that damn comforter. 

He’s not sure what’s wrong with you, but he still wants to help. 

-Hum…Is there anything I can do for you ? Do  you want coffee ? Something to eat ? Or do you want me to go put a movie on or something ? Anything, really ?

You smile weakly at him, and it makes him frown. Your smiles are never weak ! They’re always so bright, warm, beautiful ! They always make him feel better, not matter what. Awkwardly, he brushes a few fingers against your cheek, and your smile widens a  little. Here. Better. 

-You’re already doing a lot my boy. 

“My boy”. He loved when you called him that. It made him feel…It just made him feel loved. And like a part of the family. Your son. But of course he was your son, you never saw him in any other way, even at the difficult beginnings…

He kept on brushing your cheek lightly, putting some strand of hair out of your face. You managed to take an arm out of your blanket, and caressed his hair lovingly, he laid his head next to yours, kneeling on the floor in front of you, and you just shared a sweet mom/son moment…So much that you both fell into a deep and comfortable slumber. 

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Hate That You Know Me (So Well)


Adrien and Marinette discuss Chat Noir.

Can also be found on and AO3.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She was lying face down on his carpet so he was left to interpret the muffled “yrsfh”. She hadn’t said no to him yet so he gave in to precedence.

“Does Chat Noir know?”

Marinette didn’t answer him right away so he leaned over the side of the couch to look down at her.  She turned her face so it was no longer buried in his rug and one very blue, very wary eye peeked up at him.

“No,” She whispered.  “No one was supposed to know.”

It had been like this for an hour now. 

She seemed to still be coming out of shock.  After all, it wasn’t every day your classmate stumbles upon your biggest secret. Adrien wished, not for the first time, that he had chosen any other alley, if only to spare her whatever she was feeling right now.

“I’m sorry,” He said, again.

She turned her face back into the carpet.  “Snrt yr fawl.”

And, really, it wasn’t.

Not when he considered the increase in akuma attacks over the past few months or the fact that he and Marinette had been circling each other for over a year.  In fact, Adrien was surprised that they hadn’t stumbled upon each other transforming sooner.

It really was obvious now that he knew.

Of course Ladybug was Marinette.  There was no one else in Paris like her.

And if, after the warm, pink light faded, her startled eyes met his with anything but absolute despair he wouldn’t have hesitated pulling her to him.

As it was, he had still been reeling from the gunshock that was watching his beautiful classmate (had she really been so close) transform into his beautiful partner, when she crumpled in on herself shaking no, no, no, no.

And when Adrien finally did realize what was happening and started to move forward she was already up, fragile and broken and strong.

“Don’t say a word.”

Caught in the steel of her eyes he could only nod before she threw her yoyo up and out, vanishing from the alleyway.

There was, after all, an akuma.

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Not Strangers Anymore (Part 2)

Originally posted by sensualkisses

Warnings: swearing, plain ol’ sex, making out (again, is it even a warning??)

A/N: OH MY GOD!!! First of all, I am so glad you all liked Not Strangers Anymore. That got over 200 notes!! I am so proud of myself. And, I got a bunch of new followers, so thank you for that. Many of you asked for a Part 2 so here you go. If you want me to continue to write for Dylan and his other characters, please let me know. XOXO

P.S. If you haven’t see Dylan in The First Time, go watch it right now! It is amazing.

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Happy Birthday gift for the lovely @raphaelsdumort   💓 💓 💓

based on [x]

izzy is totally obsessed with space and the stars and the universe and all the planets so when they move in together (they have a really cute apartment with a lot of windows and potted plants obviously), clary paints an entire wall in their room to look like space and when she shows izzy for the first time she gets so excited and she practically jumps up and down before kissing clary.


Third of the requests / prompts:

(click to embiggen, obviously)

I will admit: I found this one to be a big challenge; mostly because I felt like the prompt was very broad, and even after asking for some clarification, I still felt very unsure of what direction to go in.  :-/   Had this been off anon, I would have wanted to discuss it a lot more with the requestor to get a better idea of what they really wanted to see.

The above idea popped into my head pretty early in the process, and I couldn’t shake it, so that’s what I went with.  I’m pretty fond of the Blind Faith AU, and that was an obvious inspiration here.  I liked the idea of Ford kind of forgetting sometimes that Stan’s missing an eye (even on a boat, where I think the lack of depth perception would be challenging), and Stan cheerfully kind of teasing him about it.  I imagine Stan revels in pirate jokes, and could see him pulling the goof of using the binoculars as a telescope.

So, there you go; I hope it’s okay, anon!

(Requests are closed for now.)

A Trip Down Memory Lane; Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4,311

A/N: I wanted to write something for Tom and I’ve been in the mood for fluff lately so this was the result. The idea was a lot better in my head but I still wanted to share the end result

Warnings: Just a lot of fluff

The first thing you noticed when you came home was a paper airplane.

It was hanging from the ceiling by a strand of twine.

The words “Open me” were scribbled on the paper and you immediately recognized it to be the writing of your boyfriend, Tom.

In fact, there were multiple strands of twine hanging from your ceiling. Various items were hanging from the twine up and down the hallway leading to your bedroom.

Curiosity began to overwhelm you. You had noticed that Tom had been acting a little weird recently. Not in a bad way and it wasn’t a dramatic change either. Just something was a little bit different, like he knew something that you didn’t.

You grabbed the paper airplane and opened it as he had instructed you to do. You were greeted with even more of his handwriting. You began reading the note that he had written on the inside.

Our story begins when two lovers meet on a plane.

I was frustrated to say the least. It seemed like my work schedule had become almost unbearable recently. I loved my job and while I couldn’t really imagine doing anything else, I couldn’t deny that the long hours were getting to me. It all seemed to become a blur. Film the movie; promote the movie, interviews and autographs followed by more interviews and autographs. I did my best to put on a cheerful demeanor and this usually wasn’t difficult since I often considered myself to be a people person. I was aware, however, that in the last couple months I started slipping up. I noticed it months ago and despite my best efforts not to think about my exhaustion it was becoming harder to ignore. On the rare occasions that I would indulge in the comments on the internet about one of my interviews, I came to realize that unfortunately the public was starting to notice it too.  So now here I was again, aboard another flight to do promotion for another film that would probably do horribly at the box office like so many of my films before. I would have preferred to be in bed instead of stuck on another plane, although I was grateful that at least for the next few hours I wouldn’t have to answer questions that made me uncomfortable or stand in front of a hundred flashing cameras.

This is when I saw you struggling to put your luggage in the overhead bin.

“Would you like some help, love?”

When you turned your head to look at me it felt like the breath had been knocked out of my chest.

“Yes, please. If you don’t mind, that would be great.”

Your voice was small and soft. There was something about that voice, something about you in general that grabbed a hold of me and refused to let me go.

I lifted your bag into the overhead area with ease and smiled at you. I would be lying if I said I didn’t notice the blush on your cheeks.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, darling.” I started to look around and began to feel a smile take over my face. I just hoped I wasn’t wrong in my assumption.

“Is this you?” I pointed to the seat next to my own.

“…Yes. I believe it is.”

I had never been more ecstatic about an airline seating arrangement in my entire life.


“Do you believe in an afterlife?” You turned your head to look straight at me and I had to force myself to look away so that I wouldn’t get distracted by your eyes.

I didn’t have to take much time to think about my answer.

“No. I think this is it, you know? So I think it’s especially important to make this life count as cliché as it sounds. What about you?”

You looked forward and furrowed your brows together while you were contemplating your answer. I took a moment to just look at you. I wanted to take everything in. I wasn’t even sure how long we had been flying at that point. We spent the whole time just talking to each other, asking each other questions about anything we could think of. I was so caught up in the conversation that I refused to think about the fact that eventually this plane would land and we would have to part ways.

“No… well to be honest, I’m not sure. I used to believe in it when I was a kid because I was surrounded by so many religious adults but as I got older I couldn’t seem to shake this feeling that it’s not real, you know? Maybe after all this it’s just darkness. The idea of a heaven seems wonderful and I’d like to think that it’s real but I could never bring myself to have an intense amount of faith. The idea of hell seems terrifying though. I don’t want to believe in a possibility that I could live out my existence here and then be doomed to an afterlife of eternal damnation. Although, I can’t have it both ways can I? If I want to believe in a heaven, I also have to believe in a hell. I have to accept the good and the bad. I’d like to believe in it but I don’t know if that’s enough. I don’t think that wanting to believe in something is the same thing as actually believing in it.”


It continued on just like that. We would ask each other questions and give our answers. You spoke eloquently. It was like you had all the secrets of the universe hidden inside you. You asked me if I believed in ghosts and I told you that I was open to the idea. I asked you if you believed in them and you said that you didn’t but you always took your friends seriously when they said that they did.

You talked about your love for books and films that made an impression on you over the years. You didn’t give any acknowledgment that you knew who I was and I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to talk about my job or any of my characters. I just wanted to talk about you.

When it came time for us to go our separate ways I panicked about letting you get away. I called after you and fumbled some incoherent nonsense about hotel rooms and phone numbers. I have never forgotten the gorgeous smile on your face when you nodded your head and shakily punched your number into my phone.

You were willing to bet that the smile on your face now probably mirrored the one he was talking about in his note. This beautiful note recounting the day the two of you met. You remembered it vividly. It was your first flight and you were terrified. He held your hand the whole time.

The next thing you saw hanging from the twine in your house was a flower, a rose to be exact. You saw a note attached and immediately began reading.

We spent weeks together after our first meeting. We went to parks and coffee shops. We talked constantly, whether it was in person or on the phone. I’m amazed we didn’t run out of conversation topics.  

I don’t remember how it happened. Somehow, we ended up talking about previous relationships. The romance in our lives. I didn’t go into much detail, just a little bit here and there about a girl I dated in school or a friend I was with a few years ago.

When I asked you about your past relationships, I wasn’t sure if I would be ready for the answer. I didn’t really want to hear you talk about guys you had been with before. I thought I might become jealous, which was ridiculous because I had no right to be upset about some guy you were with before you met me. I also knew however, that you weren’t dating anyone now, so whatever you had in the past had ended. I didn’t want to hear about that. I didn’t want to hear about some guy that broke your heart.

You fiddled your thumbs and told me about some guys from your past that you only dated for a few months.

I remember your words so clearly.

“I’ve never really had anything serious. I’ve only had a couple relationships. It seems like most of them ended because they end up finding someone else. It’s like the only thing I’m good for is just leading them into the arms of the person that they really want to be with. They would find someone prettier or funnier or someone from their past that they were falling for again. They would start something new with them… sometimes they wouldn’t even wait to leave before they did it.”

It hurt to hear you say this. I didn’t want to think about living in a world where you had ever experienced pain.

We talked about romantic gestures. I mentioned how once in school I decided to hop on a plane and surprise my girlfriend in Paris even though I had an audition the next day. You had a look of pure wonder on your face when I spoke about it.

You said you made a mixtape for a boyfriend in the past but he didn’t seem to acknowledge it when you had given it to him so you highly doubted he ever actually listened to it.

When I asked you about things that were done for you it became silent and you took a while to answer. You had this look on your face like you were trying to solve a really complicated math equation.  

You finally said, “…There hasn’t really been anything.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Well…No. Like I said, I’ve never had anything serious. They never really did anything, certainly not a surprise visit to another country. I know this is probably going to sound really lame but I’ve always wanted someone to give me flowers. I mean I know it’s really cliché and they’ll probably die in a week but I think it would be really nice.”

I didn’t think it sounded lame at all. To be honest, I was shocked. You had never received flowers before? Maybe I was old fashioned but I didn’t really care. Flowers are such a classic romantic gesture. They’re a way to communicate without having to talk. A way to make a woman feel appreciated; an act that every woman deserved.

I got a call from you a week later.

“Thank you, Thank you, Thank you! I love the flowers. They are so beautiful. But you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Sure, I did. You’ve never gotten flowers before! That is a crime darling. Everyone deserves flowers. I simply could not let you go through life without them. What kind of gentleman would that make me?”

“It would make you a normal, modern gentleman. Well I appreciate it. I promise to cherish them until they wither.”

“Well when they do I’ll just have to buy you more.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that! A dozen roses are already enough.”

“You’re not asking, I’m insisting. When can I see you again?”

“I’m free on Friday. Does that work?”

“Sounds great.”



“Thank you again for the flowers. They really are lovely.”

“You’re welcome, love.”

You couldn’t keep the smile off your face at the memory. You kept those roses by your bed until they died. They were the first thing you saw when you woke up and they never failed to make you smile. They also reminded you of Tom and that made you smile more. He did live up to his promise about buying you more flowers. He loved it and had formed a habit of buying you flowers throughout the years of your relationship. Sometimes, it would be for a special occasion. Sometimes, it was just because he wanted to.

The sudden memory of the flowers brought you back to reality.

Why the hell did Tom take the time to write out all these memories? What was he planning? You’ve always known that Tom was a romantic boyfriend. He had proven that many times over the years. But even this didn’t seem normal for someone as romantic as Tom. You almost pulled out your phone to text him and ask what this was all about but you stopped that right away. You knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t tell you. He would just tell you something cryptic like “Keep going, you’ll see.”

So you moved on to the next string.

This time you were greeted with a map. It puzzled you at first because the layout didn’t look familiar to you. When you tilted your head and leaned in for closer inspection you also noticed that the words on the map were not in English.

Even though you were sure you couldn’t pronounce any of the words you were able to recognize that the writing was Dutch which could only mean one thing.

This was a map of Amsterdam.

You opened Tom’s note ready to read about the trip the two of you took together.

You always said that you never had much of a desire to travel. This was partially because the thought of flying made you anxious and partially because tourist attractions didn’t really appeal to you.

I didn’t really believe this though. I thought surely there must have been at least one place you wanted to visit. So I decided to press on the issue.

“Are you sure there isn’t anywhere you want to go? All the places in the world and you’re really just content to stay at home?”

This is when you started to crack. I saw a slight smile start to form on your lips and I knew I was right. You did want to go somewhere.

“Well… I suppose that isn’t entirely true. I would really like to go to Amsterdam. I’ve wanted to go there since I was 15. There’s just something magical about it. It’s like wonderland for adults. Spring is the best time to go. Amsterdam is beautiful in the spring but it’s also the same time that everyone else goes. 98% of the hotels are booked during that season. But it still looks spectacular during other seasons too, even in the snow!”

You went on like that and all I could do was stare at you. You had a certain light in your eyes. There was something about the look on your face that was warm and exciting. You were so expressive like a child that was far too young to hide anything. When I was standing there, watching you, it almost made me feel like a child too, like I was taking in the beauty of the Christmas season.

Then suddenly, you stopped.

“I’m rambling… Aren’t I? You can just tell me to stop talking if you want…”

“No! I don’t mind. I like it. I swear I could spend my whole life just watching you talk about the things you’re passionate about.”

“Really? You could spend your whole life listening to me talk about Amsterdam? You don’t think you would get bored?”

“No. It’s a pretty big city, there’s a lot to talk about. Besides, I like seeing you when you’re happy. That couldn’t bore me. You have a love for this place and there’s nothing wrong with that. It what makes you unique. The reasons why you want to travel there and why you love it so much are specific to you. No one else has that story.”


I will admit that I was incredibly nervous about planning that trip. I wanted to surprise you and I had a pretty hard time keeping it a secret. Things were still kind of new for us at that point too. I stressed out a lot over hotel arrangements. Should I get two rooms or one? It did seem like a waste to get two separate rooms since it was just the two of us and we were going to be spending the whole time together anyway. On the other hand, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if I only got one room. We were going to be spending time together but I still wanted you to have privacy.

After I was done berating myself over it for days, I eventually settled on one room with two beds.

Everyone assumed we were married while we were there. Anytime we made a reservation anywhere they would always address us as “Mr. & Mrs. Hiddleston.” We tried to correct them at first but eventually decided to embrace it. I liked the sound of it. There was something about standing there with your hand in mine while someone referred to you as “Mrs. Hiddleston” that felt right to me. When I would make a reservation for a restaurant I would purposely say, “My wife and I.” It had a nice ring to it. It flowed off my tongue smoothly and suddenly it was the only thing I wanted to call you. “My wife.”

It was April when we went to Amsterdam. I may or may not have purposely planned this because I knew that the King’s Day festival was going to be taking place. We went to markets and cafes. It was incredibly crowded and our cell phones were useless for most of the day since the cell network broke down. It didn’t matter though; spending the day with you was what I really cared about.

I thought watching your eyes light up when you talked about Amsterdam was breathtaking, but it absolutely could not compare to the look on your face when you were actually there. Everything seemed to excite you. It was like you just wanted to soak it all in. You were interested in everything from the Van Gogh Museum to the bikes on the street corners. You were so enchanted and it warmed my heart. I swore to myself that I would buy plane tickets to Amsterdam every year just to keep that smile on your face.

The first night we stayed in the hotel you called out to me from your bed.

“Tom, are you awake?”


It fell silent after that so I decided to speak again.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

You waited a while before you answered and you spoke so softly I almost couldn’t hear you.

“I had a nightmare. I was wondering if you were awake…but I shouldn’t have bothered you. I mean I’m an adult, damn it! I should be able to handle a bad dream. I’m sorry that-“

I cut you off.

“Are you still scared?”


I pulled back the blankets, moved over, and patted the mattress beside me.

“Come here.”

So we slept just like that. The feeling you sleeping close to me was one of the most intimate things I’ve ever experienced and I slept far better that night than I had in months, maybe even years. In fact, if you weren’t so excited about exploring the local architecture and attractions, I would have been content to just stay in that bed with you all day.

We slept like that for the rest of the trip. It turned out that the second bed really wasn’t needed at all.

I came back from that trip feeling like I wanted to travel everywhere with you. I wanted to take you to all the places that I got to travel to but didn’t get see much of because of my work. I wanted us to make our own memories in every single city we could find. I think we left pieces of our hearts and souls scattered across Amsterdam when we left and I know that parts of it were intertwined with us when we returned. I want more of that. I hope you do too.


You were absolutely positive that you did. You had eventually gotten over your fear of flights are being on so many of them with Tom. While it’s true that you didn’t have much of a desire to travel before you met him, there was something about going all over the world with him that made you fall in love with him a little bit more. It was something that bonded the two of you. It was something that only you shared. Sure, you could share stories about your travels with others but at the end of the day, the experiences and the feelings associated with those experiences would always belong to you.

You continued on reading notes about the first time you attended a red carpet together, the day you met his family, and even a somewhat inappropriate re-telling of the night the two of you made love for the first time that left you absolutely flustered.

Eventually you reached a string by your bedroom door that held a photograph of you and Tom.

You recognized it immediately. Tom went through a “phase” a while back where he wanted to take up photography and he brilliantly decided that the best way to do this would be to use you as his model.

You opened the note below it and started reading.

You were a little bit hesitant about letting me photograph you. You didn’t think you were photogenic. I thought that was completely ridiculous but I was ecstatic that you agreed. It wasn’t anything fancy. That wasn’t the look I was going for. I just wanted you in the purest form I could capture. You wore my flannel shirt and lied down on the bed. I straddled your hips and watched the sunlight hit your face. It poured over you like honey and I was so distracted that I almost didn’t take any pictures at all.

I could see so much of your personality pouring out of those pictures. In the span of three photographs I could see your child-like spirit, your subtle smile, and your kind eyes.

You grabbed the camera from me and started taking pictures of your own.

I hid my face in my hands the minute you turned the camera on me.

“What’s the matter? The famous actor that gets photographed everyday can’t handle a camera?”

I remember reaching my hands out to the side and starting to tickle you. You were laughing and asking me to stop and I pressed myself against your side and started laughing with you. I had completely forgotten about the camera at this point, until a clicking sound brought it back into my memory.

You took a picture of us.

It was blurry and messy. It seemed like our teeth, visible from our laughter, were the clearest things in the picture. You could still make out our faces but they weren’t really clear. It was like we looked kind of softer around the edges.

It was my favorite picture from that night. The only thing that mattered in that moment was how happy we were. I think that was the moment I knew I loved you. I always had a feeling even when I first met you that you were going to matter to me but that night when I was lying with you in our shared bed, laughing while you wore my shirt I was so sure of the feelings I had for you. You have loved and supported me even when (especially when) I didn’t deserve it. The only thing that has changed is how much stronger by feelings have become.

I love you darling.

Now, I’m sure you have tons of questions about what the hell is going on.

Yes, you certainly did.

Open the bedroom door.

When you opened the door you saw Tom standing there illuminated by candlelight.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi. What is all this about? When did you even find the time to do all of this?”

You hadn’t even realized that you were crying from the notes he had written until he came over and started wiping your tears away.

“Don’t worry about it.”


“Let me explain, okay?”

You nodded and let him continue.

“When I woke up this morning I realized that I needed to do this. I’ve spent my life reading and talking about all the great literature of Shakespeare and the classics. All of those stories are filled with great declarations of love and romance but they also have an abundance of characters that let moments pass them by and if I let this opportunity slip past me then I’m not the man I thought I was or the man I want to be.”

Before you could even think about the meaning of his words you saw him getting down on one knee and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes again.

“You truly are my best friend. You’re my favorite person in the room no matter where we go and I would love nothing more than to continue to make memories with you for the rest of our lives like all of the ones that you just relived out in the hallway. I love you and I know this to be true. Will you please do me the honor of marrying me?”

The tears were falling at this point. You almost weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to answer him.

“Y-Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

You barely even waited for him to put the ring on your finger before you engulfed him in a hug.

“You are the most incredible man I’ve ever met.”

“That’s only because I have you around to be my better half.”

“So… We’re officially going to be Mr. & Mrs. Hiddleston?”

“Yes, Sweetheart, I believe we are.”

“You’re right, that does have a really nice ring to it.”

Launch Time

SPN FanFic

~Dean can have fun in almost any situation.~

Dean x Reader

3,510 Words (oops)

Warnings: CRACK. Implied Sexual Activities. Really bad jokes. Very little plot.

A/N: This is my entry for @trexrambling Jess’ Hunter Challenge. My prompts were Dean, Wraith, Potato Launcher. You wanted crack, and this is what you got. I am so sorry, I have no idea if this makes sense but here we are. The ending keeps cracking me up. ;) Hope you enjoy. 

Dean Winchester. Hunter. Ladies’ Man. Closet genius. Bad-ass warrior. Kid at heart.

When Dean came home with an arm full of black pipe and various bags from Home Depot, you were a little curious, but not enough to really ask questions. He gave you a mischievous smile and hid himself away for a few hours in the garage, which again, was nothing to write home about. You figured he was tinkering with one of the dozen cars in there, or trying his hand at crafting a new weapon. Honestly, you didn’t really care.

All had been quiet for a while, and you were enjoying the down time, keeping busy with internet articles and brushing up on your culinary skills. Sam had split town for a few days, giving himself a little vacation from you and Dean, off to some literary convention in Tulsa. Why he wanted to spend eight hours a day crammed into a stuffy auditorium listening to authors read their books aloud was beyond you, but whatever, Sam was weird.

With a grumbling tummy, you took to the kitchen, deciding to make Dean a hearty dinner. Nothing too fancy, just a roast chicken with all the fixings. Well, not all the fixings. Since Sam was gone, you could skip the salad and veggies; Dean wouldn’t mind.

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so…how about that sky high anime tho 💥🌟💥🌟

click thru for better quality+captions


Requested by: Anonymous

Request: “Can you write some fluffy Drarry? Either they’re both professors or Auror partners. Thanks in advance!”

(I don’t really know a lot about Aurors, only that they’re like a magical police, so sorry if I got anything wrong but I wanted to write this so baldy)

Warnings: none


“Scoot over.”

“No, I am sitting here.”

“Potter, I will hex you!”

“Watch me.”

Maybe it was due to this conversation that the whole room was shattered in places, or maybe the duel just got out of hand, but the result was the same: A complete mess.

Harry and Draco both choose to be Aurors after school, and if they knew that the time would come where they were actually paired together they probably would have preferred to work at Voldemorts side.

You see, ever since they started their job, they made sure that EVERYONE really did understand that they were considered archenemies (I mean you would think after everything you-know-who would be the worst of them all but apparently he’s just not evil enough.).

Day one was the first day Draco has discovered the use of a coffee machine. Or, he tried to.

Because Harry Potter decided to mock him for not knowing which button was the ‘on’ button, and they ended up with blood on their face and a broken coffee machine.

Their work mates were getting really tired of flying furniture, fractured bones and the pitchy scream Draco made when he got hit by a curse, so their boss decided to send them on a mission so they could 'bond’.

And so, here they were, fighting for the place by the only fireplace in the house.

The mission wasn’t even an actual mission.

They weren’t after some criminal or saving peoples life’s.

No, they just had to stay in a house in the middle of nowhere with no connections to civilization for a whole week, without killing each other off.

And they weren’t allowed to use magic, so, well, they had to use their fists which resulted in them being way more tired than usual after a battle.

The house was very old and fragile.

It was made out of wood, no brick to be seen, and there was almost no electricity. It was a miracle that the oven and the fridge worked so far.

It was in the middle of November and it was really icy cold.

And there was no other source of heat than the fireplace.

A very, very small fireplace and a blanket.

A very, very small blanket.

There also was a couch on the other side of the room, but laying there would end in them freezing to death, so they’d rather not.

There was no upstairs, this was literally all they had, this one room and a small room outside for the bathroom.

In other words; they got locked up together and now had to get along in order to survive.

It’s been three days and Harry was getting really tired of hating the git.

Many times he already tried to get Malfoy to join him under the blanket, but no, he wouldn’t even dare to get closer than five feet to him unless they’re fighting.

Which just happened.

Both of them were in pain and exhausted and cold and hungry and just wanted to go back into their cozy homes.

“Can we at least try to make this work?”

Harry’s eyes were stick to Malfoy, which seemed to pay more attention to his nails than Harry.

“Ugh, fine!! Have your stupid blanket and be happy with it!!”

Angrily Harry threw the blanket at the blonde, rolled his eyes and walked over to the couch, where he curled up into a ball, his back facing Malfoy.

His body temperature dropped in a second and just as he started to accept his death, a very well-known hand grabbed his wrist.

“I don’t want to get fired just because you freeze to death, Potter.”

Harry let himself be dragged towards the fireplace, where he and his Auror partner placed themselves and wrapped the blanket around each shoulder.

Due to that, their bodies were really close and Harry almost sighed as he felt Malfoy’s heat warming up his own body.


Draco turned his head and frowned.


“Thanks. You know, for not letting me freeze to death. This is way nicer.”

“I guess.”

Malfoy just shrugged and starred at the fire, a sad glint in his grayish eyes.

“I always wanted to sit by a fire and sing songs with my family. My real family, my mom and dad…it was a big dream of mine as a kid.”

A bit surprised by the sudden honesty, the Slytherin scooted closer to Harry and looked at him.

“I used to sing a lot by the fire before my father joined the wrong side. We could, uhm, sing one now?”

“The fire is making you a softy now, I see.”

Draco punched Harry in the shoulder and rolled his eyes.

“Just say you think it’s a stupid idea.”

“No, no, I would love to sing a campfire song with you, even if its just a fireplace.”

And so they started to sing songs, the coldness of the night long forgotten as Draco placed his head on Harrys shoulder, and Harry wrapped and arm around him.

Because there is no better way to warm up than a cuddle by the fire.

your otp finding each other annoyingly endearing aka:

  • you’re so stoic or deadpan most of the time but when your get flustered your face lights up red like a beacon and it’s so cute.
  • you’re such a bum getting up late all the time but you always greet me by wrapping your hands around my waist and just get dressed already
  • you have no idea what personal space is and it’s really distracting when your face is two inches away from mine, what if i turn my head and accidentally kiss you
  • your music choice is so bad but your undeniably yet irritatingly cute when you bop your head along
  • you don’t like snuggling or a lot of touching but when you’re asleep you’re a cuddler for better or for worse

Tendou, put it back. 

An old dumb/silly idea I had. I have a lot of them roaming around in my head and I was reminded of this one for some reason. I’d like to start going through my memory to get some of these older ideas drawn.

Daichi is gonna be so mad. 



7. You’re really cute and it’s ruining my life because I think about kissing you all the time. 
45. So, was that just awkward eye contact, or were we checking eachother out?

Here you go! :)

Part 2 here

“Oh my God Raven, I can’t deal with this anymore!” - you stomped in the engeneering room, and groaned loudly, then pouted and sat on the nearest chair grumpily.

“You mean you can’t deal with the fact that your crush has no idea you exist?” - that’s Raven, Ladies an Gentlemen - blunt and giving zero fucks about my daydreaming -  just the usual on the menu, what am I even expecting, God!

“Thanks a lot for throwing all the fluffly scenarios I had in my head, in the garbage. I feel so much better now!”- your sarcasm had little to no effect on her, as she just kept chewing on her improvised gum and looked at you with head hands placed on both her knees.

“Well babe, what do you want me to do? Ring the wedding Bells…no pun intended though!”- she hysterically laughed at her little joke, and you just groaned in frustration once more.

“I’m not laughing at the moment, but believe me I’m dying on the inside”- you mumbled with your head on the table, your hair covering your face completely.

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so dramatic. Bell is a cool guy, very laid back, just go there and start a conversation. It’d work believe me.”- she said with a bottle of water in hand, swaying it back and forth between her fingers.

You took a glipse at her with one eye “Oh yeah, and what would I say ‘You’re really cute and it’s ruining my life because I think about kissing you all the time. ‘, while I’m thnking well damn,  was that just awkward eye contact, or were we checking eachother out? “ - Raven bursted out in laughter at your words, but she knows nothing of your misery. 

“Fuck this shit, I’m doomed.”- you dramatically said as if those were your last words.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I don’t think it was just awkward eye contact.”- your head snapped up and you looked at the direction from where you heard that voice speak.

And there he stood, in all his glory, handing a rather thick folder to Raven.

“I came to give the folder to our engineer here, and accidentally overheard your little talk” . Just the way he was looking at you, with his smug face, was enough to make you want to evaporate from the room, but the realization of what you said earlier was even worse, and so you just slid down on your chair and covered your face with your lips, mumbling a “Oh God” under your nose, just loud enough so he managed to hear it and chuckle at your nervousness.

He’d lie if he said he hadn’t noticed the effect he had on you beofre, but that here was a whole new level and he found it adorable and very flattering.

“So. If you’re up for a late night walk, I’d be waiting you outside, alright.”- you dared to get a peek from inbetween your fingers, just as he sent a little wink at you and left the room

And not even two seconds later Raven tossed her empty bottle of water at you and hissed - “If you don’t go out with him right now, I’ll kick your ass!”

(part two anyone? like this was fun, let me know if u want some more of this right here haha)

Torn (Seth Rollins x Reader) Part 1/2

Part 2

Do not post this story without my consent (on any site or platform), under any circumstance, unless I specifically told you that you could. Thanks!

A/N: Yo. Deal with this, because I can’t. This is like angst and heartache for the sake of it, also I don’t even know who I’m rooting for anymore, but hey it’s all good. First things first: this is a fic for @nuroxic because this gurl needed it and she’s AMAZING, so, that’s that. Secondly, please note that this part contains just as much Baron Corbin as it does Seth Rollins, but fear not, the second part will be all Sethie-poo. Finally, please enjoy my feelings, and tell me how you feel, too!

Summary: Today is day one: the first day of the rest of my life. The first day of falling out of love with Seth Rollins.

Warnings: Swearing, crying, betrayal, LOVE. No but really it’s all good.

Word count: 5745

Tags: @hardcorewwetrash @littledeadrottinghood @caramara3 @i-kneel-for-king-loki @princess3733 @queenreignsempire @lisacarter2016 @stacy326 @alexahood21 @roxannaramona @littlemissava13 @drgns8er @skyereignsrollinsmain @imagineall-the-fandoms @blondekel77 @thiickreigns @m-a-t-91 @valeonmars @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @superrezzy00 @momis30 @laochbaineann @alexispoo @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans

Laters! xx

Originally posted by vaniwin

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Love Potion

Day One

8:24 AM

This is so not worth the hundred bucks I’m getting paid to do this. I hate you Gus. I fucking hate you. Now for the serious part of this ‘scientific’ journal.

My name is Brian Vance. I’m seventeen years old and a junior in high school. I’m a virgin (is this really necessary Gus) and I’ve never been on a date in my life. The closest I got to a date was to asking my eighth grade crush on a date. She said yes, but stood me up. Who’s surprised?

Gus Katsoros is the 'scientist’ who concocted the 'Love Potion’. It comes in a cologne and drinkable form, supposedly helps you secrete natural pheromones to attract the opposite sex. I am one of three guys using both the cologne and the drink. I will be using the cologne and drinking one ounce of the Love Potion before I go to school, and at night will be drinking another ounce of the Love Potion before I go to bed. I’ll be doing that, now.

Ugh! Gus. If you’re going to label something a 'Love Potion’, don’t make it taste like mud. For the final product, for the love of god, add some honey or sugar. Hell, high fructose corn syrup, whatever gets the job done! Just don’t. Make it taste like dirt. The cologne ain’t so bad though. Smells like it tastes, which it makes a much better scent than taste. Off to school.

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