you think you're bad

if you insult pokemon fuck you. every pokemon is wonderful and great. fuck.

I’m dying to talk to you
But I know you aren’t thinking of me

I’m so sensitive about Kara Danvers, as soon as I see someone saying something bad about her I’m like

To celebrate hitting 1000 followers I thought I’d chuck together a follow forever. This is the first one I have done so, sorry if it’s not formatted properly. Also, if I missed you I apologise, my brain’s forever broken and this was actually harder than I thought to put together… But thank you very much for following me, I appreciate you all 💕

💥 Seb Stan Sin Squad 💥

@buchunan @buckybames @fakebuckybarnes @itsjamesbarnes @jamesbarns @saamwiilson @spocksandsandals

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aporeticelenchus  asked:

E/R canon era + magic short prompt?

 The rose appeared suddenly, falling gently between the pages of Enjolras’s book. It was small, not completely bloomed yet, and whiter than any roses Enjolras had seen before, though he rarely paid attention to flowers, to Prouvaire’s great chagrin. Enjolras stared at it for a long moment, thoughtful, before carefully brushing his fingers against it; there was a brief spark of gold, and the rose shivered, its base turning into pale pink. Enjolras’s lips twitched. 

He raised his eyes. Everybody, caught into the febrility of their close victory’s aftermath, seemed restless and busy; Courfeyrac, who could not stay still, spent his days between the Musain and Pontmercy’s family house and was absent right now; Prouvaire had not looked up from his notebooks for days; Bahorel invited men upon men to join them to talk of their expectations, and he and Feuilly were sitting in the back of the room right now, with two respectable-looking gentlemen. Combeferre, carefully sitting as to not hurt his chest even more, was showing moving maps to a quiet but interested Louison. Joly, his cane raised high, was trying to find the ideal temperature for the room. Bossuet, leaning against him, made sure the glasses of everybody stayed full. 

Grantaire, sitting next to them in silence - a rare feat - stared back at Enjolras when his eyes finally fell upon him. His gaze was soft, if slightly troubled, and there was a bit of pink on his cheeks - was it shyness or embarrassment? Neither seemed to belong on his face and yet, Enjolras found he didn’t mind it at all; like the rose, clearly Grantaire’s creation, which was warming up against his skin. 

If Grantaire lacked any subtlety, its magic had always been even worst, somehow - Enjolras had spent years sitting in chairs much too comfortable when Grantaire was around, feeling a breeze of fresh air in summer when there was no wind and everybody was desperate for it, receiving little gifts of sort - a pen when he’d forgotten one, a glass of water when he realized he hadn’t drank in several hours, or a candle when the fire had dimmed too much and he could barely read anymore. Every time, it’d seemed obvious to Enjolras that Grantaire was behind it all - his magic, wild and emotional and generous, was as familiar to him as one of an old friend, despite their difficult relationship. 

Neither of them had ever said a word to each other about this, but perhaps it was time for this to change; perhaps, Enjolras thought, remembering the glint in Grantaire’s eye, two weeks ago, when he loudly pledged himself to their Republic, they’d already took a step toward change without quite realizing it. He gently picked up the flower, and slipped it into his waistcoat’s pocket, still looking at Grantaire. 

They did not smile, and they did not speak; but the rose bloomed fully over Enjolras’s heart and a few soft golden petals fell near Grantaire’s fingers, like a caress. 

…it’s not a show about a relationship and there’s a parallel connection I’m noticing between people who care a lot about one relationship in a show and the people who are having the least fun watching that show. I don’t like the idea of catering to the squeaky wheels because I believe in a silent majority that enjoys television. And I think it’s fucking fantastic if you can be so immersed in a show that you care whether two people hook up but I think that’s sad when that amounts to you watching a show through a hateful lens, not enjoying anything, tallying moments of eye contact, complaining about everything, spending longer than it takes to watch an episode to write an essay about how much someone disappointed you with the writing of a show that’s supposed to make you laugh and feel good.
—  Dan Harmon, commenting on Jeff/Annie and making me think about pretty much every fandom I’ve ever been in


When life gets you down, just remind your terrific selves:

Cassie’s face, though.


Ezio Auditore x Reader

On the second day of Edmas, Captain Kenway gave to me…

A warm hand on the small of your back was guiding you through the darkness, your vision blocked by a red sash.

“Just a bit further, amore mio.” His smooth voice spoke from behind you, the sound as beautiful as the gentlest of music.

“It would be easier if you took the blindfold off.” You laughed, blindly following Ezio’s guiding hand.

“Perhaps, but not as fun.” Ezio teased, his hot breath ghosting along the back of your neck.

You shivered, a combination of his closeness and the cold, winter air. Lights were dancing beneath your eyelids, the soft tune of a sweet song echoing into the night air. You could practically feel Ezio’s smile behind you, his pace quickening as you drew closer to whatever surprise he had in store.

“Okay, caro,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning in close. His chest was pressed tight to your back, his soft hair tickling your shoulder. “You can take it off.”

You smiled at the enthusiasm in his voice, your fingertips gliding along the silky texture of the sash. You peeled it away slowly, your eyelashes fluttering open. A light misting of rain drops ran down on the two of you, Ezio’s heat keeping you warm. Dozens of flickering lights met your gaze, the darkness of night lost in the beauty of the atmosphere. The candles formed a path, red petals littering the ground between each radiant light.

“Ezio,” you murmured, grinning like an idiot. He mirrored your expression, the curve of his lips pressed against your neck.

“Keep walking.” He insisted, disentangling his arms from around you. A shiver ran through your body at the loss of his warmth, his fingers interlacing with your own instead. A new wave of heat spread through you, his contact alone warming your heart.

“Are you bringing me out here to murder me?” You joked lightly, bringing his arm around your shoulders and nuzzling against him.

“You better watch out, dolce cuore,” he warned jokingly, a laugh on the tip of his tongue. The candles, still shining bright, were beginning to burn out, light puffs of smoke breezing through the air. The forest surrounding the both of you was eery, strange noises and rustling branches following the two of you like a creature hunting prey. Ezio’s brown gaze watched you from above, his soft, pink lips curved up in a smile.

“Here,” he signalled, stopping you in the middle of a clearing. The moon shone down upon the both of you, the lights of stars twinkling up above. The gentle bite of wind and light showers no longer bothered you, your eyes focused on the sky.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathed, the stars reflecting in your eyes. So many hopes and so many dreams could be seen in their soft twinkle, the sky like a sea of aspiration. A thousand untold stories were hidden in their sweet sparkle, your hand unconsciously reaching out to trace some of the more visible constellations.

“Yes, you are.” Ezio whispered, his lips against your ear. A delightful shiver ran down your spine, a tingle left where Ezio’s lips had been against your bare skin.

“Ezio.” You groaned playfully, faintly shoving his shoulder. He chuckled, a smooth and soft baritone to your ears.

“I speak only the truth, mia bella.” Your heart warmed at his rich tone, your body automatically seeking out more contact with him. He happily obliged, his head resting atop yours and his hands rubbing patterns up and down your back.

“I hate you.” You muttered, smiling despite yourself. A twitch of his lips brought on his own smile, his palms temporarily pushing you closer into him. He smelled of the fresh rain and roses with a deep undertone of lemony thyme. Your hands tightened around his neck at the familiar scent, your eyes falling shut at the intimacy.

“You wound me.” His voice was barely audible above the pounding of his heart by your ear, his steady breathing bringing it back to normal.

Your lips, pressed tightly against his chest, curved up in a smile when he cuddled closer, seeming to be almost feeding off your contact. He was like this often, reveling in every minute that he got to spend in your arms. Which, sadly, wasn’t nearly enough for you. He’d brought you out here as an apology, of sorts, for not being able to devote every minute with you. Of course, you understood why, but he seemed adamant about making it up to you.

A short burst of wind rustled your clothing, a large exhale passing through his lungs.

“It’s getting colder.” Ezio noted, his tone wistful. “Perhaps we should journey back.”

The thought of having to endure the strange and wild roads for another few days had you gripping onto his back tightly, your body practically being held up by his arms.

“A few minutes longer?” You pleaded, opening your eyes and batting your eyelashes a few times for good measure. At his look of protest, you stuck your bottom lip out, giving him your best impersonation of a needy dog. He broke almost immediately, nodding and pulling you back into an embrace.

“Only a few minutes.” He mumbled, running a hand through your (Y/H/C) locks.

The tug of his skillful fingers had you cuddling even closer to him, your head wedged in between his head and shoulder. You breathed him in, your own fingers dancing along the curve of his spine. Muscles flexed and relaxed beneath your touch, his entire demeanour shifting to something more comfortable and familiar at the feel of your hand on his body.

“Io ti amo.” He said, the ghost of a smile on his lips. There was no desperation or anger or sadness in his tone, just a sweet, honest declaration of love. You smiled, your cheeks almost aching at how wide you’d spread them.

“I love you too.” You replied, the cloth of his robes soft beneath your fingertips.

Something decidedly colder landed on the crown of your head, your body tensing beneath it. Ezio breathed out a laugh, his fingers swiping the offending item from your head. He presented it to you with childish glee, a sole, white snowflake melting on his fingertip.

“It’s snowing.” You giggled, watching the flakes with awe.

They were beautiful, each unique in their own way. You were so lost in your observation of the snowflakes, you failed to see the way Ezio’s eyes lit up with your smile, or the way he fell even more in love with each sweet word that slipped through your lips. He could tell you how he felt over and over again, he could even show you how he felt, but for the moment, he’d rather just watch and fall even further in love with your smile, with your laugh, with you.

Happy Girl, Sad Soul (Bucky x Reader) Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 

Words: 2,075

Warnings: Not really

After the long wait, it’s finally here! This is the final part of the Happy Girl, Sad Soul series, so please enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

It’s been a year. 

A year since Steve sent you off to Tony’s, a year since that incident on the bridge, a year since you’ve come home. 

When Steve sent you away, you thought it would only be for a few months but it ended up being much longer. Steve asked Tony to make sure you stayed in New York until he found Bucky, he was afraid that something bad could still happen to you and even after he found Bucky, he wanted you to stay in New York a little while longer just to be sure. 

You could have jumped on a plane the moment the drama ended and been home a whole lot sooner but you knew Steve was just worried for you and was looking out for your best interests. Besides, New York wasn’t all that bad. Tony tried to spoil you and sometimes there was nothing you could do about it, you knew he just wanted you to be happy in times of trouble. The only way he could think to make a twenty three year old happy was with clothes, makeup, movies, trips and of course food. It was a sweet thought and that’s all that mattered to you.

You loved the time you spent with Tony and Pepper, but you were glad to be home. Tony made sure a car picked you up from the airport in DC just like one had taken you to the airport a year ago today. It was weird looking out the window of the far too nice car and seeing sights that you haven’t seen in awhile. Nothing had changed but at the same time it felt different. 

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Poe Dameron #3 – Charles Soule & Phil Noto

“You know what, man? You’re sort of a drag.”

don’t let the bad days take over the rest of your days.

don’t let it brew in your heart,
don’t let it chew your insides out,
don’t let it suffocate you until the demons rejoice in living in your throat to relish on your pain.


instead… breathe.

inhale, exhale… inhale, exhale.

it’s a painful process, maybe slow, but you’re getting there.

so just keep going (i believe in you).


“I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this, but first impressions are often entirely wrong.” -Lemony Snicket 


“What? What’s that look? That guy saying anything useful?” Dean asked, looking up from his watch to see Cas’ troubled expression as he listened in on the conversation behind the closed door.

“’Useful’ is a generous stretch,” he replied flatly. “He’s talking to Y/N about when they used to be together. It hardly seems relevant to the case.”

“Ah, so Y/N might be getting a little more action than just a typical salt and burn, huh? Maybe a little blast from the past with an ex? Risky move, but…it can be worth it,” Dean chuckled. Cas turned to him sharply, jaw set, and stood tall, squaring his shoulders.

“I’m going in there to get them back on track. This is inappropriate.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous,” Dean grinned. Cas narrowed his eyes at him before turning away and striding towards the closed door of your ex’s office, ready to put a swift end to his flirting.