a voice at the end of the line

anonymous asked:

Foe imperial problem child, what if someone found "Anakin skywalkers" comm from clone wars and accidentally play it in front of rebels and empire... Recordings to Anakin Skywalker when he was too busy. "Please never improvise again" from zillo beast along with other things like from padme, obi wan and the council... Silly and serious things. Ahsoka and 501st prank calling him but end up with voice mail. Or drunk calling him.

Well it does bring up the question of whether he would’ve kept the old comm line (my suspicion is that he’d probably have destroyed it in his “that man is deeeeaaaadd*” phase of Darth Vaderness)
(*Which is actually the title of a track from one of the Count of Monte Cristo musicals and I find that amusingly appropriate)

But if he were to dig out the old communicator frequencies (nobody’s monitored these things in twenty years, why should they bring up any suspicion now?), that’d be a pretty good way for him to stay in contact with Luke and the other members of the conspiracy without alerting either Rebel or Imperial forces to their alliance. Actually, I like that. I like the idea that the members of this rebellion-in-a-rebellion are using “outdated” Clone Wars era tech and communication lines to send secret messages. Like that scene in Independence Day when they’re all using Morse Code so the aliens won’t know what they’re up to.

Of course, Luke would have his personal frequency and only Luke. But Luke, sweet kid that he is, went to show Ahsoka so he could gush about how cool Clone Wars tech was and man you guys made do with some improvised tech out on the fields and not much has changed has it? And what are these things made of? They’re like indestructible?!
And Ahsoka is just enjoying this babbling spiel, letting Luke be Luke, when she suddenly notices the frequency he’s tuning to is a very familiar one.
Wait a minute.
Did he seriously-? Oh yes, yes he did.

And now that Ahsoka knows Vader has dusted off his old comm frequency, she’s going to use this to her advantage.
Hope you like random update calls in the middle of your flight, Vader. You’re just lucky the old comm frequencies don’t support holo files or you’d be getting selfies too.

“hello,” the dark lord said, “i need a library card.”

“everyone needs a library card,” the librarian said brightly, sliding a form across the desk. “fill this out.”

the dark lord produced her own elaborately plumed quill from the depths of her robes and scrawled her name in handwriting that was completely illegible but seemed to whisper the secrets of the dark from the blinding white page. “yes, but i need mine in order to take over the tri-kingdom area.”

the librarian’s polite smile barely faltered. “funny, the last dark lord to try that didn’t bother with a card.”

“yes, and do you see that fool currently ruling our kingdom? no. of course not. utterly ridiculous, to attempt to take over any size country without a library card, much less an intermediate-sized one like this.” she accepted the thin plastic card with a gracious flourish of her gloved hand.

the librarian, adding the new card’s number to the database, privately agreed, but chose not to say anything.


the librarian balanced the pile of pulled books under one elbow and held the list of call numbers in their hand for easy consultation. “intermediate spell casting for grades three and four,” they murmured, running fingers along the peeling spines until they found it. “willing to bet that’s sorrel’s request.”

they fit the large, paperbound book under their elbow and moved on, checking the list again. “magical creatures encyclopedia, L through M. that’s jackaby trying to finish the entire set by midsummer.” they would get that one last to carry it around the shortest amount of time.

“next — the complete guide to raising the dead.” they paused in front of the row of shelves with the right call numbers. they could guess the requester of that one too, but knew better than to say it out loud.


the return slot thunked loudly as it swung open and closed, having swallowed the returned books with a wet gulp.

“good morning,” the dark lord said pleasantly as she looked up from sliding her books in — or as pleasantly as “good morning” could sound when it was uttered by a voice that sounded like gravel being chewed to pieces by the jaws of a large monster.

“it is, very,” the librarian said crisply, conjuring a clean handkerchief for the still-slobbering return slot.

the mouth just visible under the dark lord’s enormous cloak hood curved into a scythe’s blade smile, but she said nothing else.

“did you enjoy your books?” the librarian asked, since she wasn’t moving and there were no other people waiting (most likely because of the dark lord standing there).

the hood nodded up and down. “extremely. especially the taped lecture by doctor dramidius ardorius of the dark arts institute.”

“well, we have many more taped lectures. i especially recommend the one on the healing powers of tea.” they tilted their head in a now get out sign. the poor steam-powered self-checkout contraption would get overheated if people were too scared to check out at the front desk.

they didn’t really expect the dark lord to take the recommendation seriously, but the next day they noticed the cloaked, hooded specter glide out the door with the taped lecture on magic-infused herbal teas tucked between a CD of dark chants and a step-by-step art book on drawing occult symbols.


“you give good recommendations,” the dark lord said with a shrug when the librarian raised their eyes from the front desk’s computer to the shadows of her hood.

the librarian wasn’t sure what to say. “you seem to take up quite a lot of my time.”

“i’m only a simple library patron,” the dark lord replied in a saintly voice that resembled a dragon coughing up a partially digested house. “do you enjoy mermaid song?”

“yes. you can find the library’s collection in the CD section over there.” they looked pointedly back down at the computer.

“i hear there’s a concert on the shore tomorrow evening.”

“perhaps we’ll get a recording of it.”


the dark lord continued taking out books on various unsavory topics. the librarian continued suggesting books on healing, positive thinking, and community service. the dark lord seemed more amused with each visit. her smile was almost charming, once you got past the long, sharp teeth.


the librarian was trying to go about their usual morning ritual of pulling books that had been requested the night before, but the dark lord wouldn’t stop making faces at them from behind gaps in the shelves. she seemed to find it hilarious. the librarian hadn’t decided yet if they were amused or annoyed.

“ooh, look at this,” the dark lord said, pulling a sturdy but beaten up board book featuring a werewolf mid-transformation on the cover from the shelf. “this was my favorite when i was just a little menace.”

“somehow i’m not surprised.”

the dark lord tucked the book into the ridiculous basket made of a large skull that floated alongside her. “didn’t you have a favorite picture book when you were little?”

“Barker the Sentient Book End,” the librarian said promptly. “i screamed for it every night until someone read it to me, long after i’d already memorized each page.”

the dark lord cooed, sounding like a cross between an owl and something eating an owl. “adorable. i knew you had a little monster in you somewhere.”

the librarian crossly debated denying being a monster at all or pointing out they had actual kraken blood in them.


they should have guessed how close the dark lord was from how good her mood was, but it wasn’t until they arrived at work on monday that the librarian heard the news.

“the newest dark lord managed to overthrow the faeyrie monarchy last night. something about combining traditional herbal spells with a newfangled mental magic based on the power of willful thinking… or something. the news reporter mentioned the use of mermaid song in a mild kind of mind control, i think? i wasn’t listening. the good news is, our budget stays in place.”

the librarian contemplated hurling the can of bookmarks across the room, but concluded that it would be both unprofessional and unsatisfying. they settled for aggressively stamping returned, only slightly saliva-covered books with red ink.


the phone clicked loudly. “public library, how can i help you?”

“by taking my offer,” the dark lord said, slightly hesitant voice like a rock slide that wasn’t sure it was ready to slide. “the royal library in the capital needs a new head librarian.”

“why’s that?” the librarian spun in their new swivel chair, tangling the phone cord while they were at it, thinking they wouldn’t want to leave so soon after getting it.

there was a cough like the ocean spitting out a new island. “erm, hmm, last one got… eaten. tragic. these things happen when you’re very, very small, you know.”

“so i’ve heard.” the librarian stretched the phone cord and watched it bounce back. “well, i’m happy where i am.”

“well.” her voice was more disappointed than they’d expected. “it’s a very nice library, you know. large selection of mermaid song in the CD section.”

“the royal library is part of our system. i can request any materials from there that i want to be delivered here.”

a pause. the dark lord had not considered this. “well, maybe i’ll take the royal library out of the system.”

“you wouldn’t dare disrupt the workings of our very intricate library system set up at the dawn of time.”

“maybe i would!”

“no.”

“fine. i wouldn’t.”

the librarian swiveled some more, wrapping the cord around with them until it ran out of give and spun them in the other direction. “would you like to grab a coffee sometime?”

“yes,” the dark lord said, voice too surprised to resemble anything in particular. “i can travel down meet you tomorrow morning.”

“don’t you have things to do?”

they could sense the shrug from the other end of the line. “i’ll move the capital to your town. i can do that, you know. i’m the supreme ruler of the tri-kingdom area.”

“yes,” the librarian agreed, un-spinning to return the phone to its cradle. “just don’t forget who gave you the library card.”

crimson-chains  asked:

Prompt: Poor, underpaid, overworked Chihoko Pizza Delivery employee has to deal with unreasonably angry Mafia boss Victor. This has happened on many occasions. This time he's had it. He fights back.

“For the last time, I don’t know anything about your b–”

“Stop lying to me, you worthless piece of rotten fish. I can see the call log history.”

The sigh at the other end of the line sounded beyond defeat. Victor could nearly taste the sweet, savory success. Generally, Victor did not consider himself to be the jealous type. Yuuri was perfectly entitled to having friends and connections outside their relationship, but something about Chihoko rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe because it was that unlike all of Yuuri’s other friends, Yuuri never brought up Chihoko in conversation. Unlike his journalist friend Phichit or the cadet Minami, who often cropped up when Yuuri was chatting to Victor about his day.

But there was radio silence on Chihoko. And it bugged Victor.

Since the day when Yuuri oh so trustingly handed Victor his phone to show him a few cute photos of puppies during a date that had the both of them melting. And Victor had really not meant to invade Yuuri’s privacy. He was just curious about how exactly Yuuri had saved his name amongst the contacts, only to be flattered to see that he was listed in Yuuri’s speed dial.

Except there was one problem.

This ‘Chihoko’ was ahead of him. And it wasn’t any of Yuuri’s friends, or relatives. Normally Victor wouldn’t have thought anything about it. But next to the name 'Chihoko’ was a little '♡’ symbol. And THAT Victor wasn’t all that okay with. Not when a quick and sneaky (and admittedly very very very guilty) check of Yuuri’s call log showed that he called this 'Chihoko ♡’ every week. Usually quite late in the evening. On days he told Victor he couldn’t meet for a date because he was “working late.”

So maybe, perhaps, it was possible, that Victor got a bit uncharacteristically jealous.

“Look, sir, if you’re not going to order–”

“I’m ordering you to keep your paws off my Yuuri!” Victor snapped, wondering if it would be too dramatic to track 'Chihoko ♡’ down and remind them that swimming with fishes was still as effective a technique as ever, despite it being a bit old fashioned. Probably too dramatic. Besides, Otabek had mentioned being out of town for the weekend…

“If you keep this up, I’m going to call the police–”

“You call him and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, Chihoko. I will personally ensure it.” Victor growled out his warning, heard a choked-gasp from the other end of the line, and then pressed the 'end call’ button hard enough he could nearly feel the screen crack. He felt oddly satisfied with himself for the rest of the day.

That was until Yuuri called him later, apologizing and saying that he had to work late again and that he would probably not be able to make their scheduled date. The regret in Yuuri’s voice was genuine, but Victor still bristled just a little, until Yuuri continued and asked if Victor still wanted to come over to Yuuri’s place even if it would be later than originally planned, for an eat-in dinner.

Victor’s foot snagged on the carpet as he hastened to reply with a delighted, “Yes, yes, of course!”

“Cool. I don’t think I have anything at home I can cook quickly, would you mind if we ordered a pizza or something? It’s not great but… I thought it’d be nice just to relax on the couch with you and be a bit lazy after how crazy this week has been…”

There might have been another pang of guilt at the center of Victor’s chest, with the knowledge that the reason for Yuuri’s increased amounts of overtime had a direct relationship to the escalation of tension between Victor’s and JJ’s gangs. So of course his answer was, “Anything you want, darling.” He could practically hear the blush spreading across Yuuri’s beautiful face, still getting used to the sweetnames Victor dropped so frequently.

“Okay, ummm, I’ll see you at my place at nine then? Can you order from Chihoko’s Pizzeria? They’re my favorite, and they don’t charge delivery for a large.”

Victor froze. Choked on a bit of air. Shattered into a couple million pieces of embarrassment and then puzzled himself back together. “Uhh, yeah, sure, of course! Not a problem.”

Turned out to be a big problem.

Victor had to fumble through several dozen excuses and explanations when their Hawaiian arrived at the door with no pineapple, no ham, a sprinkling of cheese in the shape of a sad face, and several servings of anchovies.

Victor never called Chihoko ever again.

How To Be In Love With A Masterpiece:

When they ask you about art, try to resist spelling her name out and laying every detail of hers down, resist telling them that she’s the embodiment of a map of everything you think is worthwhile.

Listen to the sound of her laughter and let it be the only musical masterpiece you want in your ears,
let the way your name sounds like coming from in-between her lips be the only background music of your day.
Let the way your name sounds like in her mouth be the only symphony you want played on your bad days, and the only melody you need to dance to on the good ones.
Let her voice hug your broken pieces into full bricks and build yourself into a building that only knows how to be a home to her.
Speak her into syllables, appreciate the way her hand on your arms could calm the thunderstorm panic attacks you get at the thought of losing her.
Tell people that she is poetry, that she’s a poem you can never find the last line to because each detail is an ending and a beginning and you don’t want anything but to be lost in between all of that, that you don’t mind spend hours trying to decipher her beauty into words.
Turn her into colors;
she’s the crimson red flowing through your veins,
the black jacket you find most warmth in on the not-so-warm nights,
the violet lipstick shade that makes your head spin.
When people ask you about her, tell them that when she’s troubled, the sky clouds up into a grey you wish you could stretch your arms far enough to brighten it up.
Tell them that when she walks into a coffee shop, she brings in a little more light with her.
Tell them that coffee tastes better when you drink it listening to her ranting about things that matter to her, that the way her eyes glint at her favorite songs is the sugar to your coffee.
Tell them that she’s a patternless pattern of all the beautiful things you ever had seen projected in front of you, having you smile, having you live just a little more.
Talk about her the way you talk about your favorite movie. Scratch that. Talk about her the way you would talk about a movie you can never be sure you completely understand, one that’s so brilliant you wouldn’t mind watching over and over again just to find out its meaning.
Talk about her like a painting that changes with each angle you look at it from.
Talk about her like the endless piece of art she is,
like paint refusing to remain in its bottle so it overflows and explodes out of it.
Talk about her the way she deserves to be spoken about;
a self-made masterpiece.

—  itscolorpoetry 
Vanilla (M) || Dom!Jimin Smut

gif is not mine

Genre: SmUuUuuT || Fluff (?) at the end || Dominant!Jimin
Word Count: 5.6k of pure fiLTH
Warnings: Hair pulling, light spanking, light choking, overstimulation, fingering, a lot of dirty shit okok prepare yo self

Description: Jimin is a busy guy. The idol life is not an easy one.
With you missing him for three months due to his schedule, all you wanted was to spend his first night back with him. When that doesn’t go to plan, you end up spewing shit about your sex life with Jimin – or better yet, your lack of one.

Keep reading

Soulmate Voice AU

The voice you’re reading this text in right now is probably your own, but, what if it wasn’t? What if it was your soulmate’s?

  • Everyone has a voice in their head they hear when they read anything; books, texts, emails, tumblr posts, etc.
  • They know the voice isn’t their own.
  • Even though science can’t explain it, the voice ends up being someone’s love of their love, or as it’s been put, soulmate.
  • What’s even more curious is when someone’s soulmate can’t speak, they don’t hear a voice when they speak, but see images.
  • These images are usually along the lines of sign language.
  • Every word is perfectly translated, not just to any sign language, but their soulmate’s sign language. All the shortcuts, and they can feel their facial expressions because they make them on their own face when they read.
  • The voice in their head is the same voice their soulmate will have when they meet them.
  • After they meet them, the voice in their head will change with their soulmate’s.
  • There are sometimes, when someone just can’t read, the words mix up, because they don’t really understand what’s going with their head when it comes to their soulmate’s ‘voice’.
  • Lucky for those people, once they meet their soulmate, their soulmate recognizes them by their voice and helps them understand their own ‘voice’.
  • Now, just imagine person A doesn’t hear a voice but instead they see hand gestures.
  • Everyone was telling A that the voice they heard when they read was their soulmate’s voice, but since their wasn’t a voice and no told them how deaf or mute people’s soulmate’s read A thought that the hand gestures meant they just weren’t meant to have a soulmate.
  • A studied the hand gestures until they became a second language to them.
  • Person B was deaf and because of that they thought the voice in their head was their own or something along those lines, because in the town B grew up in believed deaf people didn’t have soulmates.
  • B’s family moved to the city, the one A lived in.
  • It was in the first few weeks when A and B were put together for a partner project with C.
  • B signed to A and C that he was deaf and was sorry for the interrupter and before his interrupter could even translate A signed, “That’s alright and there’s no need to be sorry.”
  • B is shocked at this and signs excitedly and the two started a long conversation where is C would have stopped if it hadn’t been adorable. Besides, C knew they were soulmates and that’s what they thought they were talking about.
  • A few years pass and A and B have become inseparable with C still as one of their other friends.
  • A’s voice changes a bit and so does B’s head voice but, B already feels like a crazy outsider because of their ears, they keep quiet not wanting to be more of one.
  • A, B and C are together at one of their houses and C starts to talk excitedly because the new kid in their school is their soulmate.
  • A looks sad and B looks angry about C’s chatter. C signs what’s wrong and after a few minutes of both explaining their side C looks at them in disbelief.
  • After C explains how deaf people find their soulmate and makes it clear that A and B are soulmates they leave to give them some privacy.
  • A and B look at each other and B just breaks down. After being told all their life a soulmate was impossible for them they finally understand. They finally know that it’s possible and it’s already happened.
  • Once B, and A cause they’ve been telling themselves a soulmate couldn’t happen for them, stop the tears A signs, “Does it suck that you’ll hear one voice for your entire life?”
  • B let out a silent laugh and signs, “It doesn’t suck at all because it’s your voice and that’s the only voice I ever want to hear.”

This was so fun to write I hope you all enjoyed! Feel free to reblog and edit this to your OTPs.

This Pharah kept killing me and I said in all chat “Just ask me out on a date, Pharah” and she did and we spent the rest of the round emote/voice line flirting.

We ended up on the same team the next round and did Pharmercy but she got jealous when I damage boosted a Bastion while she was dead. It was hard with the broken trust, and she ended up on the other team, but we talked through it and went on a date on Illios.

It was just like our first night together, quite romantic. Then she finally did it. :’)

She ulted me and we died together. It was beautiful. A romance for the ages.

“ERIC RICHARD BITTLE”

Suzanne’s voice could have frozen the Sahara. Bitty takes a quick look at his phone screen to confirm- Yes, it was her number.

‘…Mother?’ 

‘Did you honestly think I would never find out?’

He falters. What-

‘I’ve been following SOMEONE on social media, young man.’

‘- on social med- Mother! I-I wanted to tell you and Coach, I swear, I just didn’t know-’

‘And guess what I saw on poor Alexei’s Instagram?? JAM!!’

‘Oh- OH! JAM! Yes, that-’

‘YOUR AUNT JUDY’S JAM.’

‘Oh. Huh… I’m sorry?’

‘Have you been feeding those poor boys that awful excuse of a recipe?’

‘They love it! They tasted the lucky PB&J I made for Jack- and started asking for more, and I made a lot and in the end the whole Falconers team made requests and I kinda lost control?’

‘… Are you telling me that you gave that crap to SÉBASTIEN ST-MARTIN?’

That was his mother’s mad-as-hell voice. He would never recover from this.

Bitty panicked.

‘I’M GAY! I’M DATING JACK! WE’RE PROBABLY ELOPING TOGETHER AT THE END OF THE YEAR!’

There was a long silence at the other end of the line. Then, a scoff.

‘It’s a wonder you could land such a charming young man if you feed him YOUR AUNT JUDY’S JAM.’

Nope, he’s not escaping that one.

anonymous asked:

Can you improve my outlook on life and write a very drunk draco clinging to Harry please?

(LOL, I love the way you phrased that and also, I love drunk Draco.)

Potter sat there, leaning back in the booth with his arm slung across the back of the faux-leather seat, his shoulders shaking as he threw his head back and laughed at something the Weasel said. Granger shook her head with a smile of fond exasperation and leaned up to kiss her husband’s cheek. The weird blonde (”Loony Lovegood,” his booze-soaked brain provided) was waving her wand over the she-Weasel’s head in circles - ‘cause that’s normal behaviour for her.

Draco supposed that the thought of going over there ought to feel intimidating - he was completely outnumbered. But perhaps it was because of the eight or so shots of tequila Pansy had dared him into guzzling, or because he was randy as fuck.

Or because he’d just stood there hiding behind the cloak stand by the door and gazing at Potter like a lovesick halfwit far too long - he was no coward. Not anymore.

So he squared his shoulders and marched across the bar, tripping only twice, the second time because of that swaying oaf who’d nearly knocked him over.

Potter blinked up at him with his mouth slightly open.

“Potter.” Draco felt vaguely triumphant that his voice came out steady and calm - and Potter’s form was only very slightly blurry. “Potter,” he repeated, blinking slowly.

“Malfoy,” Potter replied cautiously, one eyebrow sliding up the scarred forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I can be here if I want to be here ‘cause I want to be here–” Draco was being very loud - his ears rang a little. Potter scrambled out of his seat, throwing a hasty glance at his friends before coming up to Draco and grabbing his elbow hard. Draco scowled around at the group - Weasley was scowling back, Granger looked thoughtful, she-Weasley looked completely bewildered and Loony, well Loony hadn’t noticed him yet; she was peering into she-Weasley’s ear as though she’d lost something in there.

Potter dragged him away a few paces. “What the hell?”

Draco tried to yank his arm out of his grip but nearly ended up overbalancing and falling onto his arse instead - Potter’s grip tightened.

“Let me go!” Draco slurred, stepping closer to Potter.

“What’re you doing here?” Potter repeated softly.

“I like you,” Draco proclaimed boldly. “I’ve always liked you. You never noticed. You have terrible eyesight.”

Potter pursed his lips, a faint line appearing between his thick brows. “I know I do,” he said, indicating to his smudged glasses.

“I like you,” Draco said once more, his voice decidedly breathy now - ugh. He stepped closer and, oh Merlin, rubbed their noses together. “So much,” he sighed, pressing their cheeks together for a swift second.

“Oh?” Potter didn’t seem put out at all. After staring steadily at him with his stupid green eyes twinkling merrily, Potter asked, “What d’you want, Draco?”

“To go home with you.” Oh shit, he was going to kill Pansy.

Potter simply continued to twinkle at him. “Well, I’m not going to say no to that,” he said very seriously, finally releasing Draco’s elbow to slide both his arms around Draco’s waist and tug him closer.

Draco gasped as he was pressed flush against Potter. He could caught a whiff of spicy aftershave, Firewhiskey and mint; he pushed both hands into the mess on Potter’s head and leaned forward to whisper, “I want you to fuck me.” He pressed his face into the crook of Potter’s neck.

Potter’s arms tightened, the world closed in around him until he was being squeezed almost to the point of pain, and then he was being pulled through dense blackness.


Everything ached. His stomach ached, his back ached, his toenails ached - his eyelashes ached. His head felt like it had exploded and had been put back together before exploding again; even his hair hurt.

He was too close to the sun, his retinas were on fire. The sheets below him were softer than a cloud and smelt pleasantly flowery - his stomach twisted.

He kicked himself out of bed, fell over onto his hands and knees and then half-crawled, half-ran to the bathroom until he was heaving into the toilet. It was another ten minutes before he was able to make himself stand, piss, gargle with half a bottle of mouthwash and wash his face - which also hurt.

Clad only in his boxers he stumbled through the house, following the horrible sound quality of the Wireless and the utterly heavenly scent of fresh coffee.

“Coffee!” he croaked, throwing himself into a chair so heavily that he slipped off the polished wood and landed on his bum. Potter turned around, a spatula with a bright red handle in one hand, took one look at him and nearly fell down laughing.

“Good morning!” he virtually screamed. Draco rested his cheek on the chair and groaned hoarsely, feebly pressing his hands to his ears.

“Coffee,” he whimpered. “What happened to my head? Coffee,” he pleaded once more.

Grinning widely, Potter poured him a large mugful. Shaking his head slightly as he walked over to the table, he set the steaming mug on the table, reached down and nearly lifted Draco off his feet as he helped him onto the chair he’d aimed for. “Let me guess - tequila?”

“I hate Pansy.” Draco wrapped both hands around his jade green mug with the gold polka dots and drew the drink of the Gods closer to him. “I hate tequila. I hate drinking. I hate bars. I hate going out.”

“But you like me.” Potter’s completely deadpan expression made Draco scowl - aarrgh, his face hurt dammit.

“What?” He took a huge gulp and moaned a long, gurgling moan as the gorgeous bitterness spread over his tongue.

“You like me,” Potter said again, leaning a hip against the counter with his arms crossed - he looked on the verge of another bout of laughter.

Draco stared blearily at him for several seconds before fuzzy memories started leaking into his aching brain. Then he let his head thump onto the table with another groan as Potter burst out laughing again.

“I hate everything!” Draco stated miserably. “Stop laughing at me!” His head throbbed when he raised his voice so he promptly shut up.

Potter, still laughing by the way, was loading up a plate with eggs, sausages and strips of bacon fried to crisp perfection - Draco’s stomach rolled and he clamped his mouth shut firmly as the food was set down before him.

Then Draco’s husband cupped his face with both hands, turned his face up and kissed him firmly. “I like you too,” Potter informed Draco.

“I will vomit on you,” Draco threatened.

Potter grinned, kissed his nose and went to get himself a plate of breakfast.


(Any good? ❤️)

LEANNÁN by charlesdk

Word Count: 60k
Chapters: 12
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Moodboard Credit: @atticuos. ♡

Summary:

Leannán /ˈʎɛn̪ˠan/ ;
    noun | lover, sweetheart.
From Old Irish lendán, lennán (“(male) lover, sweetheart, beloved”).

“Steve Rogers,” he says and holds out his free hand to Bucky, putting on a kind smile while simultaneously ignoring Cassidy climbing onto him.

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky says and shakes his hand. But he isn’t looking at him. No, he’s looking at where Cassidy is planting one of her feet flat against Steve’s hip and hoisting herself off the ground. There’s a smile on his lips and a soft expression on his face, and Steve tries really hard to ignore the urge to ask for his number.

Oh boy. Not good.

OR – In which single father Steve Rogers meets and befriends kindhearted asshole Bucky Barnes and falls in love despite his best efforts not to. It’s a slow and challenging journey thanks to his past but eventually they get their happy ending. Together.

Read on AO3.

deal | pt 2 (m)

Originally posted by sugamysavagebaby

summary: the years spent working hard had really paid off and was it so wrong to want to rub that in a few faces? The cliché mean girls that often teased you for not doing anything with your hair or clothing, wouldn’t it be great to show off someone like Jungkook? High school reunion au + ceo!jeon

word count: 6,848 

warning: pure filth you’re welcome

part one | part three


Jungkook is no longer tender, his lips ravish your body in such a way that it has you believing that the powerful kiss you had shared earlier that evening was nothing but a mere brush of flesh upon flesh.  Hands don’t hold you like priceless porcelain, instead it’s with a vice like grip that he clings to the skin of your hips almost as if he’d cease to exist if he let go.

Keep reading

“A Wish for 100″

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Midnight strikes, officially marking Bucky’s 100th birthday. You surprise the super-soldier with a small treat and a gift that has potential to change everything.

ending the last few hours of the day by wishing a happy 100th to our sweet plum, bucky barnes!

A/N: i wrote this in 7 minutes (i timed myself, hurrah) so it’s an incoherent mess. i’ll probably delete this sometime next week xx

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Bucky leans against the headboard of his bed, bringing the covers closer to his body before crossing his arms against his chest. He watches as the second hand of the clock make its way around, hypnotically ticking away.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

In a few minutes, he’ll be 100-years-old, and it baffles him that he’s been on this planet for a century. He’s outlived his parents, his contemporaries, and everything he considered to be home. His age isn’t something he’s too keen on, especially since he’s spent over half of those “one hundred years of life” as a brainwashed weapon for a terrorist organization.

Birthdays are still a weird concept, and he prefers to not make a big deal out of them. He’s requested his teammates to treat it like any other day, and he doesn’t want any special attention. Lucky for him, the Avengers members with a flare for surprises and events are on a mission, and hopefully the rest of the team will oblige to his request.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

His breath hitches.

It’s midnight.

Keep reading

It’s About Damn Time

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and Reader are working a vampire case. When Dean decides to go in alone, things go a little differently than planned.

Word Count: 5204

Warnings: Swearing. Because I’m a fucking lady. Vampire gore and killing. Being tied up. Smut. Again, lady. Fingering. P in V sex. 

A/N: This is for @luci-in-trenchcoats 2k Follower Challange. My prompt was “Wanna try that again like you mean it?”, which is bolded in the fic. Beta’d by the ever lovely @wheresthekillswitch. Thanks for helping me make what I had even better! Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.

Tags at the bottom. If you want added/removed, let me know!


“Dammit, Dean, answer your phone.” You’re starting to get worried now.

This is the fourth time you’ve called him, and when his voice comes over the line telling you to leave a message, it’s the fourth time you’ve had to swallow down the fear so it doesn’t come through in your voice. “You were supposed to just watch him, Winchester. If you’ve gotten yourself into trouble again, so help me God, you’re going to pay.”

You end the call, tapping your phone against your palm as you try to think. You suck a breath in through your nose, hold it for 5 seconds, then release it. You need to clear your head, figure out your next step. He’s got the Impala, of course, so if you plan on finding the him you’re going to have to borrow a car for a bit. You grab your leather jacket off the chair back, swinging it over your shoulders, shoving your hands through the sleeves as you grab your room key and head for the door. You check your phone one more time before sliding it into your pocket, shutting the door behind you as you scan the parking lot of the motel, eyes squinted to the bright mid-day sun.

There aren’t many cars parked in the poorly paved lot, and the ones that are there aren’t ones you want to trouble yourself with. You jog over to the diner across the street, eyes hopping from one car to the next until you spot a nondescript compact sitting in the back row. Yahtzee.

It’s old enough you shouldn’t have to worry about a security system but still looks like it should get you where you’re going without worrying that it’s going to break down. You walk to the car with purpose, looking for all the world like you own it. You slow as you near, hand automatically reaching out to try the handle. It always amazes you how many people just leave their vehicles unlocked in these small towns. You curl your fingers under the handle and give a tug, and sure enough, the door opens right up. With a smirk, you slide in to hotwire it and get your ass moving.

Keep reading

Yuri on Ice BD audio commentary translation - Volume 3

Translation of the audio commentary of the BD/DVD vol.3, by Mitsurou Kubo and Junichi Suwabe, voice actor of Victor Nikiforov. I really wanted to post this before the weekend because I’m not going to be home a lot, so I decided “well, I might just not sleep tonight and translate this instead”… This time there are some parts that I translated almost integrally. They talk a lot about Victor, especially Suwabe’s struggle to get into the role. It provides insight while at the same time not providing… since apparently it’s very hard to guess what is “right” when talking about Victor. I’m sure you will get what I mean if you read what they say…

The commentary is only for episode 6. Episode 5 has no commentary. It’s not a full translation but I summarized most of what they said, and as I wrote above some parts are almost completely translated. As in the previous ones, the format is different from normal interview translations, and you can find my comments too (mostly in brackets).

Translation under the post because it’s long. Enjoy!


Keep reading

Things from musicals that are so perfect they are borderline erotic

When Jonathan Groff first comes in in The Bitch of Living.
The third and fourth “burn"s in Burn and Phillipa Soo’s voice all the time. Shoutout to the final “mine” too; that’s gorgeous.
Pia Douwes’s voice, and how it is somehow simultaneously smooth and pure and beautifully rough.
The harmonies at the end of Make Up Your Mind/Catch Me I’m Falling.
The “or"s at the end of lines in Pretty Women.
“Would you think so badly of me” in Sonya and Natasha.
Rudolf’s "dann"s in Wenn Ich Dein Speigel Wär. And the "Nein! Ich möchte leben!” in Elisabeth, Mach Auf Mein Engel.
The dissidence of “trees” in Darkness and Trees.
How Phillipa Soo’s voice blends perfectly with the violins in Natasha Lost.
“I wish I could fly” from Superboy and the Invisible Girl.
That thing in The Bitch of Living when they are all jumping around chaotically and then suddenly are frozen singing “do they think we want this?” (Start at 2:40 for the full effect.)
That thing Karen David does in like every song in Galavant where her voice changes pitch slightly and damn.
The way “sadness” is sung in Don’t Do Sadness. Also the strings.
The piano in Hurricane.
The thing they do in Stop the World with the turntable and the chairs and everyone singing in a really lovely harmony with just the perfect amount of dissidence and sweet damn I love everything about it.
Absolutely everything about how Philippa Soo sings Times Are Hard for Dreamers. (Her voice is 15% of this list and that’s me holding back help it’s so beautiful.)
Both “nothing, it was nothing, I didn’t lead him on at all” and “back in the theatre full of light” in Natasha Lost.
Jenn Colella singing her phone call in 28 Hours/Wherever We Are.
Jenn Colella everywhere else let’s be real.
When Eva starts singing in High Flying Adored.
How syrupy and rich Jasmine Cephas Jones’ voice is in Say No to This.
That part of Seventeen when JD and Veronica are singing “seventeen” together and he’s singing higher than her. Also when Boote in Der Nacht and Wenn Ich Tanzen Will end the same way.
Everything about Gwyndolyn’s voice, especially when she’s singing her parts of A Happy Ending for Us.
The slight roughness in John Gallagher Jr.’s voice.
How drowsy and sexy Idina Menzel’s voice is in As Long As You’re Mine.
Also when she sings “it well may be” in For Good. (It’s nice for different reasons of course.)
Chris Jackson’s voice in One Last Time. And in every other song.

When Evie said that Ben couldn’t leave her in the Isle my heart broke because you can see/hear the hints of fear in her voice. And when Carlos told Mal that he never screamed and frightened people, his mother did and he was usually on the receiving end. And did you see the way he sang that line about “her voice in my head” which was probably cruela’s? My poor VKs need to be protected and loved

underrated lego batman movie moments

• “dc… the house that batman built… yeah what, superman?… i’m your kryptonite”

• “ this plane is carrying dynamite, guns, acid… and two best friends!”

• killer croc planting a bomb and shouting “i did something!”

• the guy driving down the road singing “nothing bad ever happens to me” before he gets caught by the riddler

• “what about the time (batman defeated you) with the parade and the prince music?”

• harley is joker’s “girl buddy” and there’s no evidence of them ever dating

• “who always pays their taxes? not batman ;)))”

• harley’s roller skates!!!

• batman finishing his lobster thermidor and then randomly pulling out an electric guitar and SHREDDING IT UP

• “my name’s richard, but all the kids at the orphanage call me dick” “kids can be cruel”

• barbara went to “harvard for police”

• alfred placing a parental lock on the batcomputer

• “what’s the password?” “IRON MAN SUCKS”

• martian manhunter’s sick dance moves at the justice league dance party

• krypto the superdog is the justice league party dj

• alfred dressing up in the old batman costume because he “misses the 60s”

• “getting criminals to fight other criminals? that’s ridiculous”

• “CAAN SCAARECROOW HELLP”

• dick going to the batcave and dressing up in the nightwing costume!!!

• “british robots. ask your nerd friends”

• “so… you mean to tell me… bruce wayne is BATMAN???…’S ROOMMATE???”

• at the end when everybody’s celebrating, ivy kisses some guy out of happiness and he just straight up dies

• mariah carey voices gotham’s mayor and channing tatum voices superman sdsdfgdf

• “BATFAMILY PHOTO!!!”

• getting RICKROLLED by dick grayson… what a memer

• the shark repellent actually getting used against king shark

• bruce and barbara don’t ever get together

• the way gotham clicks back together is downright hilarious

• joker wearing those crazy costume aviators with the bars through them

• selina has three lines throughout the entire movie and every single one is just a variation of the word “meow” (even in the ‘blooper reel,’, which makes out that the characters are aware they’re acting, she’s still saying meow)

• the gotham city sirens jamming out together

• the dance party at the end??? so pure??? 

to summarise, i love the lego batman movie with all my heart god bless

Calls from a Killer

32-year-old Dorothy Jane Scott lived in Stanton, California, with her aunt and 4-year-old son, Shanti. On the morning of 28 May, 1980, she dropped her son at her parents home before departing to her place of employment in Anaheim, California. As she proceeded with her duties for that day, a coworker, Conrad Bostron, started to complain about a crippling pain. Being the kind and compassionate woman she was, Dorothy offered to take him to the hospital. As it transpired, Conrad had been bitten by a spider. When it was time for him to leave the hospital, Dorothy said she would go to the car park out the back and drive it to the front of the hospital so that Conrad didn’t have to walk too far.

As he stood outside, Dorothy seemed to be taking much longer than expected. Then, out of nowhere, he saw Dorothy’s car speed out of the car park and turn around the corner, speeding away from him. When she didn’t come back, Conrad alerted the police. Dread immediately washed over. For several months, Dorothy had been receiving alarming phone calls from an unknown caller. In these calls, the anonymous man would tell Dorothy that he was watching her. He was able to describe where she was and what she was doing in great detail. A terrified Dorothy even took karate lessons in an attempt to protect herself if this stalker was ever to attack. In these disturbing phone calls, he often threatened that he would kill Dorothy - in fact, he once told her he would abduct her and dismember her.

In the early hours of the following morning, Dorothy’s discarded and burnt out car was discovered approximately 10 miles from the hospital but there was no sign of Dorothy. Over the forthcoming years, Dorothy’s mother would receive taunting phone calls on a Wednesday in which the voice at the other end of the line would tell her that he still had Dorothy or tell her that he had murdered Dorothy. Eventually the calls stopped, at least until August 1984, when Dorothy’s remains were found. She was found on Santa Ann Canyon Road. Decomposition made a cause of death impossible. The calls soon started once again but police said they were untraceable. “Is Dorothy home?” the taunting voice often asked before hanging up.

Investigators would announce that they believed the man who had incessantly harassed Dorothy and then her mother was the killer. However, he has never been identified.

Imagine Dean calling Sam to tell him some bad news.

A/N: Starting off Angst Appreciation Day with a short imagine.

Dean x Sister!Reader   Sam x Sister!Reader

Originally posted by all-you-need-is-spn

Dean took a shuddering breath as he tried to collect himself. He didn’t know how he was supposed to call Sam; he hadn’t talked to him since he left for Stanford three years ago. Now he had to call and tell him that their baby sister was-

Shaking his head Dean tried to clear his mind, hoping that if he shook his head hard enough he’d be able to forget for a moment what happened to you.

He’d be able to forget the way you screamed his name for help.

He’d be able to forget the fear in your eyes as he tried to stop the profuse bleeding from your chest.

He’d be able to forget how you begged him to save you.

He’d be able to forget how he felt you take your last breathes.

He’d be able to forget that you were dead because he had overlooked a closet in the house you two were hunting a shifter at.

He’d be able to forget that your death was on him.

But he couldn’t, and now he was going to have to call his brother to tell him that their little sister; their barely eighteen year old sister was dead.

The last time Y/N had talked to Sam she was telling him that she had decided against going off to college so that she could stay with Dean.

She stayed because of him.

Everything was because of him.

Pressing the send button Dean held the phone up to his ear, hoping Sam wouldn’t answer but knowing he would since Dean was using your phone.

“Hey Y/N.” Sam’s voice came through the other end of the line.

“Sammy.” Dean’s voice cracked.

The phone was silent for a moment and that was when Dean knew that Sam had realized why he was getting the call.

Dean heard Sam try to suppress a sob,

“No.”

Originally posted by jared-jensen-misha-mark67

Some important things from Hamilton last night

-after Its Quiet Uptown, Madison enters crying with a handkerchief and desperately responds “please” when Jefferson says “can we get back to politics”
-James Monroe Iglehart DABBED during The Reynolds Pamphlet
-Brian D'arcy James as King George. That’s it.
-Anthony Lee Medina’s dancing as John Laurens. So many body rolls.
-“I’m a general WHEEEEEE”
-During the line “I’ve been chosen for the constitutional convention” Jevon McFerrin started off very serious but then slipped into a happy dance at the end
-Thayne’s voice/accent as Samuel Seabury
-The lighting design was AMAZING
-“Southern mother fucking DEMOCRATIC REPUBLICANS”
-Anthony Lee Medina playing 9 year old Phillip
-The symbolism in the choreography
-The whole show