violet dart

“burn down hotel,” sunny said.

Not yet,” Sunny said. “One more thing.”

Everyone stared at the youngest Baudelaire, who was wearing an expression so unfathomable that even her siblings could not tell what she was thinking. “One more thing?” Count Olaf repeated, staring down at Sunny. “What could that be?”

The two eldest Baudelaires looked at their sister, and felt a cold ripple in their stomachs, as if a stone had somehow been dropped straight into the siblings. It is very difficult to make one’s way in this world without being wicked at one time or another, when the world’s way is so wicked to begin with. When unfathomable situations arose in the lives of the Baudelaires, and they did not know what to do, the children often felt as if they were balancing very delicately on top of something very fragile and very dangerous, and that if they weren’t careful they might fall a very long way into a sea of wickedness. Violet felt this delicate balance when she offered to help Count Olaf escape, even though it meant that she and her siblings could escape, too, and Klaus felt this delicate balance when he helped Olaf unlock the laundry room door, even though the sugar bowl was not to be found inside. And of course, all three Baudelaire orphans felt this delicate balance when they thought about Dewey Denouement, and that terrible instant when the weapon in their hands brought about his death. But as Sunny answered Count Olaf’s question, the clock of the Hotel Denouement struck two Wrong!s , and her siblings wondered if they had lost their balance at last and were tumbling away from all the noble people in the world.

“Burn down hotel,” Sunny said, and all three Baudelaire orphans felt as if they were falling.

The Penultimate Peril

I was rereading The Penultimate Peril last night for nostalgia sake and enjoying every bit of poison dart ever mentioned (because i still marveled at how Daniel Handler hinted this plot point without ever directly stating the whole truth - typical, i know, but i’ll always love him for it), breaking my heart over Dewey’s death (and how the Baudelaires’ must felt at that moment), and loving how smart Sunny Baudelaire was.

I mean, about the ‘burn down hotel’ part.

The way she figured out they needed to burn the down hotel before her siblings, they way she realized what Kit Snicket wanted (manipulated) them into doing before her siblings did.

I mean, I love that Violet’s inventor skills and how she got the boat off the roof, and I love how Klaus deducted that the sugar bowl wasn’t where Olaf thought it was, and how he cracked the code, but on the other hand, we already seen Violet and Klaus practicing their inventing/research skills countless times before. I admire them for it, but I’m even more in awe of Sunny’s quick thinking - it’s not exactly one of the VFD-skills/hobbies (inventing / research / cartography / fungus) that she’d practiced for many years, and yet she still reached this conclusion of what they needed to do so fast.

TL;DR - I love Sunny Baudelaire

Peaceful Slumber

 “Kamui!” One hand levelled next to his mouth, Takumi scanned the area. Thick trees and green leaves were all he could see. But the figure of the dragon princess was nowhere to be found. A frown tugged the corners of his mouth. Where is she? Again his head whipped left and right. For an astral kingdom, the Hoshidan prince was quite surprised to see just how big and vast the forest was.

 He then stopped once he spotted a familiar figure.

 “There you are!” Breathing a small sigh of relief, Takumi picked up his pace. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Gods, and you actually made me worry so much as to why you didn’t show up for ar…chery…practice…” Words stumbled out as faint mumbles once he got a clear image of her.

 There she was, snoozing peacefully under a shade of one of the trees, giving neither care nor hesitance about the world around her as slumber took hold.

 Takumi swore a laugh almost burst out of a cupped mouth.

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anonymous asked:

Collarbone and Shoulder kiss together for Feysand?

A/N: I did it!  woo.  Hopefully this is enjoyable Feysand fluffiness :)  Also part 2 of the bank robbery AU should be out fairly soon!  It’s mostly done.


Precious

A cool breeze - one of those characteristic to Velaris - swept gently across the balcony, tickling Feyre’s exposed skin pleasantly as her head dropped back against the plush chaise.  After a moment, her eyes opened, hands raising the temporarily abandoned tome she’d half finished.

Flicking over to the next page to begin a new chapter, she almost missed the mischievous glimmer that thrummed down the bond, but caught on just soon enough to slip the book safely away from a certain Illyrian’s questing hands.

“Hello Feyre, darling,” Rhys purred from over her left shoulder, “It seems I’ve created a monster.”

Feyre tucked the book into the crack between the chaise and its cushion before beckoning her mate closer with reaching hands as she drawled, “Ah yes, without books I’d just lie around all day naked and waiting for my powerful husband to return.”

Rhys let out a chuckle at that, nudging her legs to the side with his slim hips as he settled at her waist, “Somehow I find that to be unlikely.”

She quirked a brow but let the subject drop in favor of an almost too casual statement, “So Cassian dropped by earlier.”

One broad hand rubbed absentminded circles over her just swollen belly, Rhys’ violet eyes darting anywhere but toward her inquisitive ones, “Nesta problems?”

“If he dropped by every time they had a spat we’d never have been alone long enough to make this happen,” Feyre chuckled, gesturing toward her middle.

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Friendly Thought that I’m kind of sorry about.

Just take a moment to think of those moments of Under The Mountain after Amarantha’s death, and Feyre is her new self and Rhys has just gasped and flown off into the night. 

Finally flying after fifty years of vile darkness in some gross parody of the worst part of his home. But he was finally going home to his beautiful airy home in the mountains that would almost kiss the sky- even with all of that, he isn’t thinking about that. He can barely breath the whole time and he lands barely seeing anything around him, Mor- and as if his thought had summoned her she’s walked into him and she wants to cry and run into his arms because she’s so happy to see him standing before her so pale and thin, but alive, just when she had thought she would have to wait centuries if she ever saw him again. 

Just think about the fact that she could do none of those things because Rhys saw her and the words tumble out of him and he can’t even hold himself together. She’s my mate, she’s my mate it’s all he can manage for a minute and Mor is standing as still as the marble that decorates the walls of the Court of Nightmares, her mouth hanging open afraid to even speak.

I lost her, she was dead. I did everything, i broke every rule and i tried so hard to keep her safe but she killed her anyway. My mate, she’s my mate. It’s her, she’s my mate. I made them all bring her back. I wormed into their minds, and made them bring her back. I would have broken them in two to bring her back. But she’s alive, he had been pulling his hair, his violet eyes darting and restless and seeing something that wasn’t entirely there. Mor still hadn’t moved or spoken but as his eyes looked into hers she took a tentative step towards him. In reaction he stepped back the filth of Under the Mountain still on him She’s alive, and he has her. I don’t know- what am I going to do? 

Mor had made her way over to him as he stared at the ground muttering She’s my mate, what do I do? 

It feels like an eternity but Mor lifts her hands and touches Rhy’s face and she can feel how much effort it takes for him to drag his eyes up to hers. It’s the first time in fifty years that he’s allowed himself to feel broken and lost in fifty years and Mor knows it because she knows him and knows how hard he has worked to protect them all and how far he has has to fall and who knows how long it will take to pull himself out of the pit he had been made to live in. She can see the tears well in his eyes before he swallows them in an impressive display of will, her hands are still on his face and she is rubbing her fingers in his hair and just touching him and he just closes his eyes and takes in a shuddering breath 

Mor, what am I going to do?

She stared at him, and rests her forehead on her cousin’s 

You aren’t alone anymore. We will all figure out what to do. 

Can’t Take It Anymore

This is the RusAme fluff story that I’ve been promising myself to finish. I started it in October, and I didn’t finish it until Sunday, whoops. :/


“Stop it…”

“No!”

“Fredka, I am warning you…”

“NO! Your face is too squishy and cute!”

Ivan furrowed his brows in irritation as he crossed his eyes to look at the pest below him.

He loved Alfred, he really did. But enough was enough! He just wouldn’t stop toying with him. Every second, every minute, every day, Alfred spent rubbing his calloused hands all over the Russian’s face. A pinch of the cheeks. A boop of the nose. Tilting his chin up and down.

The first day, he expected it, being in a romantic relationship and all that jazz. Now, it was yesterday’s news. He just wanted some peace during his usual cup-of-tea-and-early-morning-newspaper routine.

He sighed as he felt the repeated stabbing of his flesh with a finger and heard small chuckles emanate from the younger’s mouth. He stared at his discarded tea in sorrow, spilt all over the newspaper and the printed words bleeding into one another. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes, but he knew that he shouldn’t cry over spilled milk–er, tea.

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Alfred kept at it. “C'mon, turn that frown upside down!” He took Ivan’s hand and shook it back and forth. Shaking with tremors, Ivan slapped his hands away, got out of the loveseat without a word, and stomped upstairs in one fluid motion.

Alfred flinched as the slam from the door shook the portaits and pictures on the walls. He sat there on the carpet, dumbfounded. “What’s the matter with him?” Something twisted in his gut as he inched towards the staircase and climbed them one by one.

He reached the door and turned the knob, but it held firm. “Ivan? Vanya? Are you okay?” Al placed his ear on the door, and listened to the shuffling coming from the other side. “Can you let me in?”

A muffled “nyet.”

“Why not?” He whined.

More muffled speaking came through the door.

“Can’t understand what you’re sayin’, bud.”

Quick footsteps, a click of a lock, and then the rough compression of springs.

Alfred hesitated, drawing his arm back for a slight second, gaining some courage, then twisted the knob again.

He found Ivan sprawled onto the bed they shared, his face in one of the many pillows lying around. He inched towards the Russian, wary of a violent reaction. The young blond sat on an unoccupied bedside chair and stared at the lifeless body on the bed.

“Babe, what’s the matter?” Alfred tried, not wanting to touch him just yet, twiddling his thumbs.

Ivan lifted his head sluggishly and gazed at him with a withering glare. “Do you really want to know?”

Alfred steeled himself. “Yes.”

Just at the expression on his face, Ivan’s glare softened. He sighed, “Alfredka, there is not anything really wrong. It is just that your new…er–hobby is starting to bug, that is all.” Dancing around the subject, he sat up, eyes searching his partner’s face for a reaction.

“I-I didn’t know it bothered you so much, big guy. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve stopped…” He hung his head.

“You had just looked so happy and-and, your smile–I could not disappoint you. But it did feel kind of nice.” He admitted shyly, his face crimson. Oh, how he wished that he had his scarf on him…

“Really?”

Violet eyes darted around the room before they landed back on Alfred, pulsating with unbridled emotion. “Da.”

Tears pooled in his eyes as he rocketed out of his chair and pounced onto the Russian, embracing him gently as their lips locked in a passionate kiss.

Initially taken by surprise, Ivan jolted upright, then closed his eyes and deepened the kiss, their hands searching one another and left disheveled appearances in their wake. Reluctantly, they pulled away, a thin sliver of saliva connected between them. He reached up and brushed away any stray tears on the American’s face using his palms.

Both breathless, Alfred tried to balance himself on his hands and knees, but quickly gave up and flopped onto the bed next to his lover. He shifted to look him, cornflower blue eyes laced with mirth and relief.

His eyes closed for a brief second, then they shot open as his nerve endings engulfed themselves in pain. He clutched his cheek in astonishment. Deep chuckling came from the other side of the bed, Ivan clutching his side, one of his hands still near his skin.

He felt a grin emerge, then he mimicked a crab and took hold of the Russian’s nose and held firm, hearing the sputter of dying laughter and the strangled sound of air trying to force itself out his nostrils.

Now a light shade of plum, from the lack of air or the fact that he was still trying to laugh, he didn’t know. Lashing out, his flailing fist accidentally slammed into Alfred’s gut, knocking the wind out of him, but successfully loosening his grip.

Coughing to clear his airways, Alfred sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed, slightly afraid that he would lose his breakfast all over the flooring. Realizing that he felt blood rush to his forehead, he maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position. Large hands clamped around his ankles, the pressure slight and gentle as Ivan pulled him up.

Cerulean met violet again, and impulsively, Alfred put his head on Ivan’s pale, expansive chest and closed his eyes, listening to his settling heartbeat. Ivan combed his hand through the wheat colored locks fondly as he heard Alfred’s breathing begin to soften.

Taking off any excess layers, he laid Alfred on his side. The ashen blond found himself yawning as he gazed at the sleeping American below him.

He staggered towards the blinds, shutting them harshly and trekked back to the bed, sliding into the sheets and assuming a spooning position. Burying his nose into Alfred’s hair, he inhaled deeply, taking in his natural woodsy scent. Closing his eyes yet again, he relaxed himself, the frays of a dream overtaking his mind.

A Throne of Glass and Fury: Part VI

So, unfortunately, I am one of those souls who starts school next week. *Tear*. And between writing ATOGAF, rereading ACOMAF and the TOG series before EOS is released, and preparing for school, I am a VERY busy woman.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! Make sure you like and reblog and spread the word about ATOGAF and don’t hesitate to tell me what you think, any of your predictions, suggestions, etc. 

Links to Parts I-V Here:  { Part I }  { Part II }  { Part III }   { Part IV } { Part V }  


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I watched in silence as the tub slowly filled with water, bubbles rising and the sweet scents of jasmine and lemon verbena permeating my bathing chambers. I stuck my hand out to test the water temperature, finding it to be just to my liking. I sighed in contentment. 

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Top of the World

Pairing: NozoMaki
Words: 1,950
Summary: Nozomi was an excellent reader. She read Maki like a book, never failing to predict the next chapter. Maki, on the other hand, held a novel written in a foreign language.
Note: Happy Valentine’s Day @rins-legs! A gifto from me to you for @international-idols‘ V-day event! I hope my secret sources were right and you do like nozomaki, otherwise im sorry but take it anyway


The party pooper, they called her. Maki, of course, rolled her eyes at the feeble insults thrown her way. She would not be riding the biggest roller coaster in the amusement park, regardless of her friend’s remarks. She wasn’t afraid, not in the slightest. The only thing truly stopping her was the ride’s hidden camera, and the last thing she wanted was a repeat of that incident.

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First Dates and First Mistakes

@thelonexsouls Liked THIS for a starter: Charlie

Heavy breaths heaved up and down, pulling at Charlie’s chest. Nerves were wracking up as he waited outside the restaurant he had picked in the city for them to meet at. He didn’t see it as much, but the high class dining he had picked was rather fair standing. A button down shirt with a collar laid delicately over a plain printed black sweater dressed his chest, black slacks and leather shoes to match.
Violet eyes were darting around in search of the girl he had met in the library. Honestly he hadn’t the foggiest as to how she even agreed to go out with him, being the social trainwreck that he was.

Love Wins

A very big congratulations to America and all who fought for equality!!! I was sent the wonderful news by quite a lot of friends and followers, and after seeing all of the wonderful art on my dash, I wanted to contribute a little bit in celebration of marriage equality in all 50 states of America! Congratulations to everyone, and I hope you enjoy this little AmeCan fic! It’s beneath the ‘Read More’ for you all~ Smooch smooch!!!

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anonymous asked:

what if maki school in UTX instead of otonokizaka aaand one day she met nico who is gay for A-Rise ?

again sorry for taking almost month to answer omg


Nico felt small in front of the gigantic building, whose walls could have touched the heavens above for all she knew. She had passed by the school many times over the course of her life, admiring the shimmering windows and the pure white walls. 

It all began with a dream. 

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