Sanvers or director Sanvers + couch make out scene
Alex was used to disappointment. In her dating life, in her self, happiness was fleeting and just so often out of reach.
That first kiss with Maggie was pure bliss, the first tangible proof that Maggie had been right about her after all. Fireworks set off behind her eyes, her pulse racing, skin set aflame from just the pressure of Maggie’s lips, pressing further into her for the briefest moment before they broke for air, before she left her heart on the floor of the bar and Maggie behind her.
Her second kiss with Maggie, though, that was a brownout rolling through senses, everything shutting down and shuttering, lights flashing and no one home. Like rebooting in safety mode, she had to ask, had to confirm, because the first time, the first time she felt this it meant everything and left her disappointed. Alex wasn’t sure she could take the crash from that high again. Maggie’s hair, so soft, her eyes bright and sparkling, her laugh, it was every feeling Alex never understood in a love song, every time Kara had ever tried to describe the sensation of flying.
Oh god, it was everything.
Maggie made her brain melt. At this point in their relationship, this early on, Alex was ready to accept that as fact. She stumbled, faltered, tripped over words, lost her train of thought at the sight of Maggie’s smile. Alex was a total goner, and it had never been more okay to give into the feeling, this strange feeling she’d heard of but never really understood. Like falling, like flying, like zero-g and spinning around in the warmest sunset she’d ever seen.
But tonight? Here, on this couch? With some movie in the background and the leftover pizza on the coffee table, beers abandoned? With Maggie cradled between her hips, kissing her gently, slowly, short circuiting any coherent thought Alex could have had?
She’d never dreamed of anything like this before. She’d never experienced anything remotely close, couldn’t begin to theorize that this, the shooting stars and pounding hearts, that this was a thing that was real, that it was possible.
Her hands grip and tug at Maggie’s back, even as Maggie’s dig into Alex’s hair, deepening kisses and stealing her breath. Lips that demand, that curse and bless and whisper and ghost across her skin. Teeth that nip and scrape across her jaw, that tug at her ear, that part for a tongue to trace the lines of her throat as she can do nothing more than arch her back and bare her neck to the woman who changed everything.
Alex’s hands can’t help but move, hesitant, but god she wants to feel, to taste, to experience everything this woman offered. Her hands they skate under Maggie’s shirt, tracing their way across the dips and valleys of Maggie’s abs, and all Alex can think is that she wants, wants, wants-
And Maggie pulls up and away, their lips dragging against each other, desperate to stay fused. Maggie’s chest is heaving (so is hers), and those dark eyes are blown wide, the night sky in human form, searching Alex’s face for something, even as Alex’s fingers dig into Maggie’s sides to keep her from moving farther away. Maggie finds it, whatever she’s looking for, her lips twisting, cheeks dimpling, as she reaches down and rips her shirt over her head.
Alex’s mind blanks completely, unable to process so much skin, so much Maggie, her hands they tug and they pull, and Maggie’s weight is all she can think about as she falls back onto the arm of the couch, Maggie’s lips on hers and Alex’s hands touching, feeling, scratching. Maggie’s hand slips under Alex’s sweater, heat and and fire and feather-light touches and Alex can think of nothing more than off off get it off and the need for skin to skin contact as they let their lips guide the exploration of each other.
Request from anon: I was reading your prompt list and I came with this request about Bellamy, where him and the reader are in a relationship but on unity day, when most of people are high, she is dancing with Raven and Octavia, and when she stops and go look for Bell, she see him kissing Clarke, you can choose how it ends. With numbers: 4, 5, 7, 12, 14 and 40.
4: “I can’t believe you.”
5: “Of all people, HER!”
7: “That’s why.”
12: “Don’t be like that, please.”
14: “You know it’s true!”
40: “If you don’t, I will.”
Love this request!!
Word count: 1,164
Warnings: swearing & lots of rage lol
Thank god for unity day, you thought as you looked around at the camp. Everyone was either drunk or high, some were both. They were able to forget about their problems and just be teenagers for once. You weren’t high, and weren’t drunk yet. As everyone danced you could see pairs of people making out to the side, or being pulled into a tent. It made you smile, reminding you of the many times you or Bellamy had pulled the other into a tent. You had never loved anyone before him and you were so happy with him.
“Earth to Y/N, Hellooooo?” Raven shouts at you, pulling you back from your thoughts.
For gayle24mcm, who asked for “Ovi, happy”. I’m almost positive I posted more of this once but I can’t find it– I have this vague story in my head about every time Ovi is feeling down, he goes to one of his teammate’s places and just borrows one of their kids for a while to play with and feel happy again.
This was a bit lengthy, so I put the majority under a cut.
“Hold out your arms,” Nicky says, in the same firm
tone he uses when telling Alex where to stand while he takes an offensive zone
faceoff; Alex automatically responds in kind and does exactly what he says.
Nicky hands Alex his baby.
“Um,” Alex says.
“Don’t drop her,” Nicky says, and then disappears
back into his bedroom. Alex stands there in the hallway, shifting his weight
from foot to foot and trying not to move. Haley wiggles a little and Alex
tightens his grip.
“Hi baby,” Alex says, because Nicky wasn’t polite
enough to make formal introductions. Lisa had only brought her to the rink once;
Alex’s main impression had been a carrier, a couple of blankets, and the soft
pink vagueness most babies seemed to have until they got interesting enough to
have personalities. Haley blinks back at him. She has Nicky’s eyes, the same
clear green, and only the lightest wisps of pale blonde hair. “What’s
my fantasy is for dave filoni to walk out at some convention panel, spin around once clockwise, say “howdy pardners, it’s me, overwatch mccree” totally emotionlessly with zero inflection, spin around once counterclockwise, and immediately leave
As well as the flair on flat I also had this fun line. Xgring 360 out to 180 to zero spin frontflip. #skate #skater #SkatePark #skating #rollerblade #rollerblading #inline #inlineskating #aggressiveinline #valobrand #valo #flip #frontflip #fun #sunny
So there's now apparently 10 chapters left of fairy tail
Well I guess I feel sad about it but I admit I kinda accept the fact it’s ending. Just because it is doesn’t mean it’s going to change my love for the series. We basically had like 23-30 something arcs in the series (if you count fairy tail zero, spin off series’,anime only arcs and the movies) but personally, it’s one of the best series I’ve ever read, it opened so many doors in my life, helped me come out of my shell a little more, made me so many friends, and taught me what friendship really should be about (and this is coming from someone who was a loner in high school).
They say nothing lasts forever but you wanna know the truth? I think it does. Fairy tail is going to live in our hearts forever, we also have so many talented fanfic writers and artists out there who come up with there own version of fairy tail stories that there has to be over 1,000,000 arcs out there as we speak! Hell, I still got a few gajevy fanfics I have saved up and maybe a few more if I rack my brain a little harder. And I also got a Natsu/ Zeref brothers tumblr exclusive fanfic coming out. And who knows, Shonen weekly will probably pull a shonen jump and ask Mashima to write a series following Fairy Tail’s kids! So what do you think guys? Think it’s really going to end?
Sometimes you need someone else to give you what you need. Genfic. Fluff.
They all have their dirty secrets. Their little guilty pleasures. And, as much as he would like to deny it - being the paragon of virtue he wants to be - John Tracy is no exception.
The brothers all know each others’ secrets. For Scott, the all-American boy next door, it has always been apple pie - warm, dusted with sugar and served with real vanilla ice cream, not the fake synthetic stuff.
For Virgil, it’s steak - a rare T-bone to be precise. A hang up from his brief college foray into veganism. Barbeques and bacon were his downfall.
John would like to present himself as immune to those temptations. Someone has to show a little restraint to the tinies - or at least to Alan. Gordon does what Gordon wants to do, regardless of the thoughts of others. But in truth, a lot of the time John is immune to the machinations of his own mind. This is because he works 20 hours a day nearly every day. Through choice and necessity, though mostly the former. He cannot not work.
He stays in space, floating and working and just getting on with things. He doesn’t have time for indulgences. He doesn’t have time for temptations.
His brothers know this. Which is why they take care of the needs he doesn’t want to admit he needs.
You have to be careful what you eat in space. Times have come along since the days of Gagarin and his tubes of processed meat, with another full of chocolate sauce for dessert. Technology isn’t as sensitive, but it’s still not a good idea to have crumbs in space. Shards and specs of food can get into all sorts of nooks and crannies - and IR’s space monitor won’t be caught with his pants down - or his systems inoperable due to an attack by crumbs.
That’s why, every time he gets fresh supplies, there are several necessary unneccessaries, beyond the fresh suits and the MREs.
There is always an unreasonable amount of fresh undersuits - an all-in-one kind of underwear, totally black, that layers his skin to his outer suit. Quite how many times his grandmother thinks he needs to change the undersuit is beyond John. Once a day is quite enough for anyone.
Without fail, there is always another dexterity puzzle. Gordon got him into them several years before. John does most of his work with his hands anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to exercise his digits in a different way. Linked hooks of silvery metal, coiled and knotted rope - like a cat’s cradle gone very wrong - or sliding tiles. Anything is good as long as it keeps his mind busy and his fingers nimble.
The thing John looks forward to most - but will never admit - is what Alan stows away inside the supply capsule. It’s been a long-standing tradition, ever since Alan was just ten and starting to learn about physics proper. John had taken responsibility for his science education, much to their father’s delight - and Alan’s too.
It all started with the lesson on microgravity and rotation. It wasn’t an original idea - in fact, it had been taught by astronauts for years - but it was effective - so why change it? With Alan on Tracy Island, head pillowed on his arms and his brows drawn low with boredom, John had produced a sealed packet of water, a straw and a packet of M&M candies.
The perfectly spherical water globule didn’t elicit much response from Alan. A mild interest at best. And why not? It was just a spec of water hanging in space.
When John pushed an M&M into it to demonstrate microgravitational rotatio , though. That was different.
But not for the reason John might have liked.
“Awesome!” Alan had cried, sitting up straight. “You get to eat floating candy!”
John could have launched into a whole tirade on concentration and the importance of understanding physics if Alan really wanted to be an astronaut.
But he didn’t. Instead, he grinned.
“You want to see how much fun it is?”
And for the next half hour, John spread the candies out across the comms. module and did as he was bid - eating them upside down and while moving backwards - and even a zero-g assault course to see how many he could eat in sixty seconds.
Alan understood microgravity perfectly after that. And John learned a little something, too.
Without fail, in every supply run, John could be sure he would find a clear plastic tube of M&Ms and a note.
A little bit of chocolate never hurt anyone - not even your ‘Bird!
And without fail, John would have a little indulgence, a moment to himself in zero-g, spinning around and catching candies in his mouth.
He’d never admit it but they all knew anyway. There were no secrets in the Tracy family - and they wouldn’t have it any other way.
The dogs that conquered space ( Belka and Strelka pictured)
Humans were too risky, monkeys too fidgety, so the Soviet Union chose dogs as its first cosmonauts. It is a story of science, sacrifice and – for those that survived – sausage-filled celebrity.
Emblazoned on sweet wrappers and matchboxes, postcards and
handkerchiefs, the space dogs became cult figures in the Soviet Union of the
1950s and 60s, embodying the plucky spirit of the country’s pursuit of space
exploration. They appeared on TV and radio, their portraits printed in
newspapers and magazines, while politicians queued to be photographed with
them, as the first “space pop stars”.
The “future space scouts”, as they were known, had to be no heavier than 6kg (13lb), and no taller than 35cm (14in), just small enough to fit inside a rocket’s nosecone, where they would be confined for days on end. They also had to be female, owing to bitches’ calmer temperaments, and because there was no room in the cabin for male dogs to cock their legs.
Derogatorily nicknamed Muttnik by the Americans, the first dog in space, Laika, became a national hero when she died in action, supposedly euthanised on her seventh day in orbit. In fact, she had suffocated a few hours after the launch, a state secret that was revealed only in 2002.
Back home in the USSR, the scientists vowed never to let another dog die in space, and were quick to unveil the next heroes, Belka and Strelka, the cheerful dog duo who would captain the next orbital flight in 1960. After a live broadcast that showed them merrily spinning in zero gravity, they returned safely to a wave of affection, and all the sausages they could eat.
There would be at least six more dog flights before scientists were convinced space was safe enough for humans, but Belka and Strelka would remain beloved national celebrities, eclipsing their human peers. (Read more).
7 Sports Astronauts Love Without Gravity (Including Football)
Astronauts onboard the International Space Station spend most of their time doing science, exercising and maintaining the station. But they still have time to shoot hoops and toss around a football.
From chess to soccer, there’s a zero-gravity spin to everything.
Baseball: America’s favorite pastime. JAXA astronaut, Satoshi Furukawa shows us how microgravity makes it possible to be a one-man team. It would be a lot harder to hit home runs if the players could jump that high to catch the ball.
Yes, it’s a sport, and one time NASA astronaut Greg Chamitoff (right) played Earth on a Velcro chess board. An elementary school chess team would pick moves that everyone could vote for online. The winning move would be Earth’s play, and then Chamitoff would respond. About every two days, a move would be made. But who won the historic Earth vs. Space match? Earth! Chamitoff resigned after Earth turned its pawn into a queen, but it was game well played.
NASA astronaut Steve Swanson put a new spin on soccer by juggling the ball upside down. However, he might not have considered himself upside down. On the space station, up and down are relative.
NASA astronauts usually sign off their videos with a zero-gravity somersault (either forwards or backwards). But astronauts are also proficient in handstands, flips and twists. The predecessor to the International Space Station, the Skylab, had the best space for the moves. The current space station is a bit tight in comparison.
Objects that aren’t heavy don’t move very well on the space station. They kind of just float. It’s like Earth, but exaggerated. For example, on Earth a beach ball wouldn’t go as far as a basketball. The same is true in space, which is why playing with a basketball in space is more fun than playing with a beach ball.
People talk about hitting golf balls off skyscrapers, but what about off the International Space Station? While golf isn’t a normal occurrence on the station, it’s been there. One golf company even sent an experiment to the station to find out how to make better golf clubs.
Zero gravity doesn’t make everything easier. Astronauts need to relearn how to throw things because their brains need to relearn how to interpret sensory information. A bowling ball on the space station no longer feels as heavy as a bowling ball on Earth. When astronauts first throw things on the space station, everything keeps going too high. That would put a wrench in your spiral for a couple of months. But once you adjust, the perfect spiral will just keep spiraling!
A fan-driven push launches the British boy band to No. 1. Plus, Hilary Duff and Leona Lewis mark returns to pop music, and Paris Hilton enters with her latest single.
Band member Louis Tomlinson addressed the effort in an interview with Billboard backstage at the show: “That is just a perfect example of how unique, incredible and passionate our fans are.” The crusade sparks high streaming numbers for “No Control,” which picked up 1 million U.S. streams in the week ending May 17, according to Nielsen Music. The song also tallied 61 plays on 41 monitored top 40 radio stations during the week (up from zero spins in the week previous), while its sales rose by a mighty 1,674 percent to 5,000 downloads (its second-largest sales week, after its debut frame last year).
In addition, the activity lifts four additional Four cuts on Top Tracks: “Night Changes” scores a 37-22 jump, while “18” (No. 30), “Stockholm Syndrome” (No. 33) and “Steal My Girl” (No. 50) re-enter the tally.