both of them with a strap on have to be lethal

Moon of Fire Part v (Sastiel Sequel)

We are officially halfway through Moon of Fire! I hope hope hope you guys enjoy this part of Sastiel’s story, where you kind of sort of not really understand how the story will unfold? I can’t thank you guys enough for all your support, and them reactions are everything!!!

If you haven’t read A Court of Fire and Dreams:
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV and Part V.

Moon of Fire:
Part i, Part ii, Part iii, Part iv, Part v


He was in trouble.
Azriel knew the moment he laid his eyes on the blonde haired witch.
She was miles ahead of everyone, twisting and turning in the air as the horizon opened up to pink and yellow and orange hues.
Yellow like her hair glistening in the moonlight—swaying in the wind as she clawed for his throat.
He despised it—her stubbornness.
Despised the unfiltered, opinionated words that came out of her iron teethed mouth.
And despised her—not from the wound she gave him—but for this wild, unusual thing that’s filled his heart.

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Sounds Like You’re Sick

The sound of deep coughs arouse you from your sleep. A shiver passes through your body as it acclimates to not having a warm wall of muscle wrapped around you as usual.

The smell of coffee reaches you as you look over at the clock. 5 am. Two hours before you have to wake up.

Another cough, then two sneezes follow. All from the kitchenette a few feet away from the bed. You lift your head and see Frank pouring a mug of coffee. His hair is damp and even though he’s in his sweatpants already, a quick glance at the bed shows he hasn’t been in it yet.

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Originally posted by vintagejosh

title: they’re all gone (part 1)
pairing: peter parker / reader
word count: 1, 894

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Bad Things - Kai Smut One Shot

A/N: This is based off of the song “Bad Things” by Camilla Cabello and Machine Gun Kelly. Super smutty smut ahead. (Not my gif below!)

“Am I out of my head?
Am I out of my mind?
If you only knew the bad things I like
Don’t think that I can explain it
What can I say, it’s complicated
Don’t matter what you say
Don’t matter what you do I only wanna do bad things to you
So good that you can’t explain it What can I say, it’s complicated”

I was lost, meandering the pages of my favorite book. Swept up in a fantasy land of angels and chimera. My fingers teased the edges of the pages as I clung to every single word as I read words that, quite frankly, I knew by heart, but could never lose interest in. 

 My phone buzzed and drew my attention away from the pages. The alert flashed across my screen that I had received a text message from Jongin. I huffed a breath out. I knew that this interaction was more than likely about to annoy me more than it would benefit me at all. At least I could consider it entertainment, although I would have considered my book sufficient enough for the night. 

 Receive: Hey you.
Send: Hey Jongin.
Receive: What are you up to?
Send: Just reading. You?
Receive: What a fuckin’ nerd. Reading on a Saturday night.
 Send: A nerd you’re texting on a Saturday night. What’s the matter? All your FWB busy tonight or something?
Receive: I like when you talk feisty to me, baby.
Send: Ew. Did you actually need something?
Receive: Yeah.
Receive: You 😜 
Receive: Got any nudes to make my night more fun? 

 I rolled my eyes. There it was; the annoyance I anticipated. 

 Jongin and I had grown up across the street from one another. We had shared one kiss in high school at a party, and had never spoken of it again. He had turned into quite the, I believe the newest term was, “fuckboi” since we graduated, and, as hard as I tried in the past, I was unable to cut him out of my life. Eventually, I quit fighting the part of me that wanted to remain his friend. 

We had become very different people with no more similar interests or friends. Occasionally, however, we would sneak around and actually hang out, for old time’s sake. We would never let our other friends in on the secret. The judgement that we would face if they knew that we interacted with one another would be harsh. As it remained, I did enjoy his company from time to time. 

Send: Are you that drunk? You’re asking me of all people for nudes?
Receive: Nah. I can bring some booze over if you want though. My night has actually been kinda lame. I’d like to see you.
 Send: Sure. Come over whenever. 

 I laid my phone to rest on the nightstand and stood up. I walked over to my closet and checked the full length mirror that hung from my door. The black tank top that I had been wearing wasn’t too terrible. It flattered my figure well. I did shed my pajama bottoms and slid into a pair of floral shorts. 

I was midway through brushing my hair out from being in a ponytail when I came to an abrupt halt. 

 "Am I out of my mind?! Why am I getting dolled up for Jongin, of all people,“ I asked myself, out loud, and shuttered when I realized what I was doing. I tossed the brush back on the bathroom counter, but managed one more glance over of myself right as the doorbell rang. I shook the nerves that had somehow snuck their way into my veins out, and brought myself back down to reality as I headed to open the front door. 

 As I reached to turn the knob, Jongin was letting himself in. 

 "Excuse you,” I exclaimed and crossed my arms as my, very forceful, house guest allowed himself entry to my home. He smiled his lethal smile and held up my spare key. “Under the front door mat. Really?“ 

I yanked the key out of his fingers and scoffed. "Where else do you put a spare key, jackass?” I maneuvered past him and began to put the key back in its rightful home, but hesitated and stuck it back in his hands instead. 

 "Ah, there ya go. You give it to a person that you trust. Not hide it in a place so obvious anybody could break into your house.“ He slid the ring on his key chain and I caught myself lost in my head again. 

 "Wait, what the fuck am I doing? Why am I so out of whack tonight?” I thought to myself as I realized I had just given Jongin unlimited access to my life. It was too late to regress and take the key back now, though, so I grabbed one of the bottles of liquor from him and made my way back to the kitchen. 

 I poured us both tall glasses of strong drinks and hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter as Jongin took a sip. 

 He sucked air through his teeth and, after his face has un-puckered, said, “heavy hand tonight." 

 I laughed and said, "I’ve gotta be drunk to endure your company. Suck it up, princess." 

 He chuckled and raised his glass in the air as though he was cheers-ing me from across the kitchen. He took another large swig. 

 We sat and talked for a little bit. As he was telling me about the happenings at his new job, I couldn’t help but allow my mind, and eyes, to wander. 

 I had never realized how long and toned his legs were. The torn skinny jeans that he was wearing hugged his thighs perfectly. Every now and then, as he made a grand gesture speaking with his hands, his shirt would slightly come up, revealing his abs and V-line. I caught myself licking my lips as my brain played with the thought of licking down that v-line. 

 "Hello?! Are you even listening to me?” I snapped back to the moment as I saw him waving his hands in front of my eyes. 

 "Aish, sorry,“ I blushed when I realized that I was thinking dirty thoughts about Jongin, "uh, zoned out for a moment. Must’ve made this drink too strong." 

 He rolled his eyes and smirked at me. He gently placed his glass down at the opposite end of the counter and sauntered slowly toward me. "What’s got you so distracted tonight?" 

He placed himself directly between my legs and, rather than recoil from his advances like my mind was screaming at me to, I shuddered and slightly leaned into his touch. His large hands traced a light pattern up my arms, raising goosebumps. 

 He flashed me his grin again and leaned forward, placing his lips directly against my ear as he whispered, "if you only knew the bad things I liked.”

Originally posted by jonginssoo

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Sacrifices (M) 1/2

Requested by anon♥

→ Reader x Tao

→ Mafia AU; in which lethal mafia leader Huang Zitao is always in control - except for when his sister is abducted by his rivals and the only way to get her back is to kill another lethal woman.

→ Warnings: Smut/Suggestive content. Angst.

Word count: 1,7K

His own lips were widely stretched, smiling happily, tauntingly down at him from their place on the wall. His dark irises travel over his own face to the painted form of his younger sister. He sighed out in stress and relief. In false relief. She was gone and there was only one way to get her back; seducing, bedding and killing Y/N L/N - the richest, most powerful woman in the city. 

He had to get her back. His sweet, kind, younger sister. This was the only way, the only way to keep her alive and by his side - by taking the life of another woman. 

The thought caused an uncomfortable clump in his throat. He knew his sister could never know how her life was saved. If it was saved. He sighed, fishing his revolver out of his pocket and placing it slowly down onto the table beneath the picture. He lets his palms caress the sleek material of his fancy trousers before starting to walk out of the hallway, heading straight for the outdoor. He swallows back the uncomfortable clump at the sight of his car ready by the gate already. 

The next minutes spent in his luxurious car went by in a daze, a torturous daze. The long, black car drove slowly, as if the driver knew his master didn’t really want to go to the destination. 


“Welcome Mr. Huang, the lady is waiting.” 

time was impossible to stop. 

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For @lust-for-pan…reader is a Sith as requested. Enjoy! (Reader does ask for death, very briefly, but I did want to warn you darlings.)

Obi Wan glanced briefly at his padawan, Anakin. The pair were searching for one of the most powerful Sith in the galaxy. They were so good, they only knew them by their name, Y/N, and what they had done. Even then, they weren’t sure if that was their true name.

“Now Anakin,” Obi Wan started once more, “We mustn’t underestimate this Sith.”
“I know, Master,” Anakin replied a bit solemnly, “I’ve heard the stories.”
Obi frowned briefly. “Yes. Well, we can assume they are powerful and dangerous. They must be brought before the Council before it gets any worse.”

Anakin nodded, glancing down at his lightsaber. This Sith had evaded detection from the Jedi for years. Who knows how much they could’ve grown  He was hoping to get this mission done as quickly as possible.

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mistahjimagines  asked:

Could I get a smut with Steve where he gets jealous? Rough and dirty talk if you dont mind? Thank you, love!!

sure thing! keep in mind that this is my first attempt at smut, and i am a complete virgin (i’ve never even kissed anyone, but i’ve read my fair share of smut, so i know what everything is), so this might not be the best, but i think it’s pretty good for my first try :)

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superhumanspeedandnetflix  asked:

I wasn't sure how to look this up so idk if you've written about it already, but why is the answer to always be faster? Is that just how speedsters think? Is it indicative of Barry leaning on his powers too much? He knows full well that his powers can be taken but he still hasn't developed a skill set (like learning more than just boxing) as a kind of backup. Oliver once said something like his bow was just a tool and he was the weapon. So is Speed a tool, or is it different?

There are actually two different answers regarding Barry versus other speedsters. We’ll look at Barry first.

Something that applies to all speedsters: Speed is a steroid; speedsters are addicts.

They’re not rational; they lean their shoulder into their greatest strength. “Why find a door if I can punch a hole through a wall?”

Speed is a Swiss Army knife, but sometimes you need a shovel, and sometimes you need a chainsaw, and sometimes you need a different tool entirely. How do you put out a fire with gasoline? It’s useful for a lot of things, but ultimately, it’s only as useful as the speedster using it. It’s a lot of firepower but no precision; a tool without an instruction manual.

Oliver uses his bow as an extension of himself. He has a great line when he’s drugged up on Vertigo and fails to shoot a tennis ball out of Dig’s hand: “I don’t need the bow.” Dig challenged him on the grounds that he couldn’t fight crime without it. Oliver hangs it up and goes out anyway.

Barry’s absolutely powerless without his Speed. He’s not allergic to honing his skills – he can absolutely become a stronger runner, but not by pouring more raw power into it. Strapping a jet engine to your back would definitely make you move faster, but it’ll do so by taking you clean off the ground (and burning you to smithereens, but Speed prevents that from happening). There are some cool YouTube videos depicting a real world alternative: strapping a jet pack to your back to increase the ease with which you move, increasing your speed. Because it supports your natural ability to run, it builds up a preexisting quality, rather than substituting it.

Remember, Barry is still a slow runner without Speed. Cisco points it out when he loses his Speed in 1.07: “He runs slow even for a normal person.” He’s overly reliant on his Speed for his ability to fight. He has almost no tactical skill (efficiency is sacrificed for brute force). He literally doesn’t know how to fight: he has no strategy for how to handle a bad guy, hand-to-hand. He learns what he needs when the necessity arises, on the fly and often insufficiently. His goal isn’t to win fights; it’s to stop them from happening. Speedsters who move faster than other speedsters have a lethal advantage: their opponent appears relatively slower, making it easier for the faster speedster to shut them down before they have a chance to fight.

But here’s the difference between Barry versus, say, Hunter or Eobard: he lures, they fight to kill. Barry almost never fights to knock out his opponent; he tries to effectively lasso them. He takes apart motorcycles, uses air currents to force his opponents in a corner, throws lightning. He doesn’t do hand-to-hand beyond knockout punches when none of the above works out. He can’t get too close, or he’ll show his hand: he can’t fight. Eobard and Hunter both can, and there’s a reason why they are so brutally efficient when they fight Barry. Yeah, they’re faster, but they also take advantage of what they can do and use Speed to enhance it. They train.

But here’s the thing: they have a finite amount of Speed. My Lightning color theory regards the different colors corresponding to heat, with blue being the hottest and red the coolest. Eobard has the least amount of Speed at his disposal, so he’s a marathoner: he paces himself and uses his Speed very carefully. Zoom is a sprinter, striking hard and fast because he has nothing to lose. Barry is an erratic in-betweener, trying to compensate between two very different opponents. He doesn’t know that their Speed saturation levels are far lower than his. They’re running on empty. He’s already at full steam. But he’s jogging, and they’re running. He’s overtaken not because he doesn’t have enough Speed; he’s overtaken because he doesn’t use it as aggressively in those make-it-count moments.

Barry, with his direct connection to the Speed Force, doesn’t actually need more Speed. He does need to use it better and, yes, when the moments come, more aggressively. He’s not pushing himself as hard as he could be, and both Eobard (who, as Dr. Wells, pushes him) and Hunter know. The one time we see Barry overtake Hunter in combat is at his childhood home after Hunter kills Henry. Barry just lunges and shoves him against a wall, and man, he is running hot, using as much Speed as he possibly can, tapping all that untapped potential. Hunter really is right: if he wants to fight speedsters, he needs to be as desperate as his opponents, or he will lose to their desperation.

Hunter and Eobard and every other speedster have finite quantities of Speed, and it’s constantly being depleted. They have to get more, or they will “go cold” and lose their ability to be speedsters. (I call them “dormant speedsters” in this state). They have a literal and vital need to acquire more Speed, and Barry is the best source for it. They have to hone their technical skills to acquire something they vitally need. Speedster death is psychologically as damaging as literal death for people with Speed in their system. Eobard is just as desperate as Hunter, even though Eobard will not literally die without Speed, and Hunter, the equivalent of a terminal cancer patient, *will.*

Speed can do a lot, and I’ve headcanoned in plenty of fics that it has a healing factor that goes beyond simply accelerating a speedster’s metabolism. Speed could, in sufficient quantity, cure Hunter by purging the cancerous cells. He doesn’t need V9, a lethal carcinogen; he needs Barry’s pure Speed. He’s dying, and Barry is his literal last hope. He didn’t even realize Barry could cure him until after the “Enter Zoom” fight, when conquest took a knee to “cure” in the priority book.

Eobard is freezing/starving to death. It’s a slow, painful process, and he’ll die as a speedster, but likely as a human shortly thereafter, from heartbreak. He, too, craves the warmth/fullness that is Speed. He actually does need more.

Speedsters like Jesse and Wally lack this desperation because they hang out with Barry, who unwittingly puts out a lot of Speed (through Speed diffusion) and they essentially bask in it. If they’re away too long, then absolutely, they’ll have to figure out a way to compensate. Barry’s a source, other speedsters are sinks. Ironically, Barry is the one speedster who doesn’t need more Speed. He needs more motivation to fight, a fight-to-the-death mentality.

He’s fighting to deter. Hunter and Eobard are fighting for their lives. Hunter and Eobard are prey, and Barry’s a predator. If Barry chooses to hunt and misses his prey, then he can find more. (And, technically, Barry doesn’t even need to hunt, since he’s already met his requirements. Further demotivation.). Predator loses, predator moves on and tries again. *Prey* loses, prey dies. The End.

It’s dangerous to be the party that needs to win so much that it cannot afford to lose, but it’s almost more dangerous to be the party that can walk away. Because they’ll lose, and lose, and lose, and still they won’t lose enough to set them on fire and send them into a frenzy, to be starving and pushed at last to the edge that they need to be at to fight to the bitter end.

Barry needs to train *himself* and use that training to enhance his ability to use his Speed. Other speedsters have the exact opposite challenge. They train first so they’ll be able to acquire Speed. The predator-prey dynamic flips.

I absolutely love speedster dynamics, and I’m glad you brought it up! Apologies for the long reply with no read more; I’m on mobile.

anonymous asked:

111 for the drabble challenge🙈

111.“You can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay.”

Okay so it’s a harry potter au for no reason other than I wanted to :)

There was only one thing Sherlock Holmes loved more than playing Quidditch in the pouring rain. He enjoyed the challenge the poor visibility provided (it wasn’t as though he was getting it from his opposition!) That, and the general unpleasant weather meant the other team allowed their standards to slip. The only drawback was, so did his team. It was the first game of the season and Ravenclaw’s team captain, Mary Morstan, was keen for an early lead.

Sherlock came to a halt high above the game, sweeping his sodden hair away from his face to observe his teammates; they looked miserable, fighting the elements against a surprisingly in-form Hufflepuff team. He smirked, knowing full well this was down to the ingenious tactics of their only female team member, Molly Hooper. He quickly scanned the players, searching for the yellow and black clad Chaser; it didn’t take him long to spot her, speeding towards the Ravenclaw goalposts with the Quaffle tucked tightly under one arm.

She was that secretive ‘one thing’. Molly Hooper, the most beautiful, sweet, delicate thing he’d ever had the pleasure to meet with a smile he was sure would knock him off his broom were he subjected to it right now. Sure enough, after hurling the Quaffle through one of the Ravenclaw hoops and high-fiving her teammates, she turned her dazzling smile on him, waving smugly in his direction. He knew Mary was watching him, probably with an infuriating smile on her face; blinking the rain from his eyes, Sherlock sped away in search of the Snitch.

An hour later, the Snitch had found itself in the firm grasp of the Ravenclaw Seeker much to the relief of his teammates, one of them going so far as to hug him in gratitude. The two teams filed quickly into the changing rooms, chatting enigmatically about the match. One by one they left for the common rooms until it was just Sherlock left. Good. He didn’t like conversation at the best of times. He ruffled his hair into place, the drying strands beginning to form the usual curls, and hoisted his bag onto his shoulder before leaving the changing room; he found Mary Morstan waiting for him outside, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, lover boy.”

“Stop it,” he called over the rain, the two beginning a quick stride towards the main castle, “I told you Matthews is a rubbish Keeper.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she wouldn’t have scored if you let the beaters do their job,” Mary replied, smirking at him; he wished she couldn’t read him as well as she did. He simply shrugged.

“Plenty of other players for them to aim for.” He wasn’t sure why she found that funny.

The rain began to pick up as they continued to walk, until they were all but running towards the cloisters. The dripping wet Ravenclaws walked through the stony entranceway, chatting about Mary’s latest strategy, something she called the ‘Non-Lethal Hooper Extraction Tactic’. Sherlock was onboard until he discovered he was supposed to snog her into distraction. Another thing his Captain found hilarious despite his protests she’d misinterpreted his feelings for the Hufflepuff. They were walking for a short while when they happened upon Molly Hooper engaged in a fierce argument with her boyfriend, Tom, the most useless thing in the entire school. Before they could be spotted, Mary pulled Sherlock around the corner within earshot of the rowing couple.

“…why didn’t you come today?”

“I told you!” Tom’s stupid whiny voice echoed down the hall, a desperate edge to his tone, “I had things to do. Surely you understand.”

“Well, why did Janine-“

“For God’s sake, Molly. It was just a few drinks,” he had the audacity to laugh at her, then. Sherlock chanced a glance around the corner; Molly was still wearing her Quidditch gear, squaring up to her scruffy looking soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. She was so cute, what did she see in him? The idiot smiled, “come on. We both know you’re being irrational. C’mere.”

Outraged, Molly recoiled from his outstretched arms, “you can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay.”


“Just leave, Tom. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Sherlock felt a sharp elbow in his ribs as the idiot sniffed and stormed off, kicking suits of armour on his way; he ducked back into cover, glaring at Mary.


“Now’s your chance,” Mary whispered, barely containing her excitement as she gestured, “tell her you love her!”

Sherlock hoped he looked at least a little convincing when he replied, “no, I don’t.”

“Oh, please,” Mary said, rolling her eyes, “I saw your…aerial foreplay,” she smirked at the blush spreading across his face, adding, “it’s okay. She likes you, too.”

He allowed himself a quick smile before he schooled his expression and shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. She deserves better.”

Mary sighed, seizing Sherlock by the lapels of his robe and shoving him out of their shared cover. Molly looked up from her perch on one of the benches, smiling at the handsome Ravenclaw student…who at this moment looked very much like a deer in headlights.

“Hi, Sherlock. What’re you doing here?”

“I…” he trailed off, fiddling with straps on his bag, “went for a walk.”

Molly blinked, “in the rain?”

He nodded, avoiding looking at her; it was pathetic, he almost always managed to make a fool of himself in her company. Molly patted the bench and, after a moment’s hesitation, Sherlock sat beside her, praying to a deity he didn’t believe in that Mary had left him to it. They sat in silence for several moments, listening to the rain beat down against the roof.

Sherlock cleared his throat, wringing his hands in his lap, “I-I have to tell you something.”

“Is this about the Beater thing? Because I promise not to tell anyone.”

“The…Beater thing?”

“Why none of them aim for me. Ever. On any team.”

His face drained of colour. His brain could come up with nothing better to respond with than, “oh…that.”

Molly giggled, slipping her small, soft hand into his much larger one, “maybe I had more than one reason to end it with Tom,” she murmured softly, her head falling comfortably onto his shoulder. A ridiculously stupid grin swept across Sherlock’s face as he pressed his lips into Molly’s damp hair.

Mary slipped silently behind the wall, making her way towards the door at the end of the corridor; she couldn’t wait to see her boyfriend, John, in the morning. They had a bet to settle.

Intimidation is a Learned Skill

Batsis Reader x Pietro Maximoff

Request: Can you do a Marvel/DC crossover where the reader is part of the Batfamily and is dating like Pietro please… also I love your work!

A/N: I hope this is okay anon! I’ve never done a crossover before and I didn’t even try to explain how this is even possible.

Tagging: @jadedhillon


“Has anyone seen my red shoes?!”

You yelled out into the hallway, knowing full well that your brothers would hear you wherever they were. One upside to having a family of detectives. You glanced at the clock on your bedside dresser and swore, returning to ransacking your wardrobe in search of your best pair of heels.

You were supposed to be going out for dinner with Pietro tonight. Supposed to being the key part of the sentence; you wouldn’t be going anywhere fast if you didn’t finish getting ready in the next five minutes before your boyfriend was scheduled to show up.

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Shoot from the hip

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, a poorly constructed fight scene, gun violence, possessive Bucky, dominant Bucky, body worship, fingers in the mouth, quite a bit of the old dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), some butt grabbing, a bit of spanking, a shit ending??

Word Count: 4012

this was something off the top of my head because I am bad at making things up oh no. but i literally sat there and said “cosmos, what have you always wanted to do to bucky?” and this was born

Originally posted by allthisherostuff

“Shoot from the hip” (verb) to react quickly and without thinking

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Past Meets Present

At long last, the one shot requested by @ilovesesshomarusama, who wanted to know how Sesshoumaru would react to hot dogs. So here is my take on that, hope you enjoy it! ^^

Kagome stood by the well fidgeting nervously. Beside her, Sesshoumaru towered as intimidating as ever, his sharp cold eyes surveying the well house, his nose twitching imperceptibly.

“Uhm,” Kagome said, twisting her hands into the hem of her shirt. “Once we go outside, it’ll be… different.”

“This Sesshoumaru would certainly hope so,” came his haughty reply. “You humans would surely be pitiful if nothing had changed in five centuries.”

Kagome’s temper spiked. Her cheeks flushed but she bit her lip. Infuriating as he might be, having Sesshoumaru following her was bad enough. An angry Sesshoumaru would be potentially lethal.

“Just don’t freak out. Please.”

Sesshoumaru arched one imperious eyebrow contemptuously at her.

Kagome’s shoulders slumped in defeat and she climbed up the stairs, crossed to the door of the well house and slid it open.

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Voltron bonds and what they could mean for Season 3

There’s a common theme that comes up a lot in Voltron, and that’s bonding.

You have bonding between the Paladins, the Lions and their pilots, and of course, the combination of those two: the bond that forms Voltron.

So I had a few thoughts about how this bonding would come into play in the new season (or should come into play, depending on if the writers decide to care or not), and what it would mean for the controversial Who Will Pilot The Black Lion™­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ debate.

This is long, but there are pictures, so strap in.

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OTP challenge with @rextexx​  Day 2 : Flowers 

we still do over part separately,so Rex’s fic has no relate with mine.

(I always have this headcanon about pyro plant flowers in the base~)

and please GO under the cut and read Rex’s short helmet party ffic!!!

it’s sooo lovely !I’m assure you it will warm your heart!!!


by @rextexx

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The True Heroine of Homestuck

Yesterday, before going to sleep, I was thinking about a few of the plot threads and time loops that were closed in the background rather than showing us, and I began to notice something…

So, I believe in my Meta Theory, about the Kids sorta ‘transcending’ the format of the Webcomic, becoming their own people, and now being in the hands of the Fandom. They’re even updating on Snapchat now as if taking real selfies and doing stuff! But after examining the last Act again and checking a few things, I realised that, there was someone I don’t feel I’ve seen anyone praise for allowing the Session to be completed in the first place.

Someone whose actions directly fucked Lord English over and that screwed the Alpha Timeline SO BAD it forced Caliborn to take drastic measures.

Vriska found the Juju and used it against LE.

John got his zappy powers and retconned his Timeline.

But the one person who allowed either of them to EVER be successful was…

)(er Imperious Condescension.

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Come Down- Daryl Dixon

Plot/Request: Anon requested- “Hi! Would love a o/s where Daryl x Reader are in the middle of a massive fight. Things are said that shouldn’t be. Reader thinks it’s the end for them so she takes off. Daryl comes to her the following day and tells her he’s not going to give up on them. Extra fluff! (can be set pre apocalypse or mid apocalypse)”

Word count: 1501

Warnings: swearing, minor character death, 

Note: i’m so sorry this took so long omg. life’s been kinda crazyyyyy… also sorry there isn’t a lot of fluff for this.. fluff can be hard mannnnn


Coming back from a run was always a possibility. Not a certainty.

But so far, you’d come back from every single run you’d ever been on. No bites nor lethal wounds to be found on your skin. Still, Daryl would worry whenever he wasn’t with you. He treated you like a child sometimes, and it drove you crazy.

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Author: @sebastianstandoffish

Summary: Asset Beta is The Winter Soldier’s second in command. They are assigned the mission to kill the rogue Captain America, though things don’t go as planned. 

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: None

A/N: My first attempt at writing really. I plan to turn this into a series with future pairing of Bucky x Reader. Beta will be reader. 

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Very few outside thoughts entered the Asset’s mind when she was on a mission. Complete the assigned mission within the timetable. Minimize the damage to Asset Alpha. Do not get caught. It was with these focused points at the forefront of her mind that the Asset exited the vehicle behind her superior.

Asset Alpha was assigned the assassination of Captain America aka Cpt. Steve Rogers, longstanding enemy of HYDRA, and his cohorts. With the compromise of Commander’s involvement in HYDRA, it was imperative that the targets be eliminated before the entirety of Project Insight was endangered. Thus, Asset Beta was also called in to assist.

She followed Asset Alpha through the window of the moving vehicle, closing in on Sitwell and Captain Rogers’ car. She clung to the windshield of the Commander’s truck as Asset Alpha made his approach across traffic. She would wait for her cue and follow Alpha’s instruction, as she always did on their dual missions.

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Summary: How did you cope when your life changed so fundamentally in such a short space of time? Twenty minutes is all it takes. It’s been twenty-two years since they last saw each other, and, when Percy Jackson walks into the same elevator as Annabeth Chase, now they must come face to face with fate, and the future that, due to misunderstandings, poor timing, and an over protective mother, never got lived. They lost the past that could have been everything. But maybe they found the future that was worth waiting for. | AO3

Of all the elevators, in all the office blocks, in all of New York, the biggest mistake of her life had to walk into this one.

Annabeth Chase sent up a silent prayer for invisibility as she inched behind two suited executives. Her back bumped against the mirrored wall of the elevator at her new twenty-eight story office block in uptown New York. Unfortunately, someone up there wasn’t listening, because she failed to disappear.

Percy Jackson.

The name whispered across her consciousness as heat crawled up her neck and flared across her scalp.

Twenty-two years since she’d last seen him and yet recognition blasted her in the sternum as soon as he’d edged into the crowded elevator. Which was surprising, because that fitted steel-grey designer suit was one heck of a departure from the wrecked jeans and third-hand leather jacket he’d practically lived in at Goode High.

Thank God he was absorbed in the elevator monitor and hadn’t looked her way. One glance at those heavy-lidded, sea green eyes a moment ago had been more than enough to make her heart swell up and stop beating for several crucial seconds.

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