cheating like a boss

Just we’re clear here, in yugioh duel links you can play as:

  • Yugi Moutou’s alter ego, who is the semi-evil ghost of an egyptian Pharoh
  • Seto Kaiba, teen CEO of Kaiba Corp
  • Local best freind Joey Wheeler
  • Tea Gardner, who didn’t even play the card game in the manga
  • Mai Valentine, who cheated throughout most of her career but slightly less than everyone else
  • Weevil Underwood, who literally threw your best cards into the ocean
  • Mako Tsunami, who wants to fuck the ocean or something
  • Rex Raptor………… he has dinosaurs
  • Bandit Keith, who cheated slightly more than Mai Valentine
  • Odion, who dueled like once because his boss told him to
  • Ishizu Ishtar, who went through most of this because her brother makes bad decisions
  • Pegasus, who literally created the card game
  • Yami Bakura, who literally just wants to kill people
  • The Paradox Brothers??? really???? this happened???????

People you cannot play as in yugioh duel links

  • Yugi Moutou, the protagonist of yugioh
8

Two/Android parallels - 4/?

Wizard101 Bosses - Combat Asks
  • Rattlebones: Tell your earliest Wizard101 memory.
  • Lord Nightshade: Do you farm for holiday gear? What have you gotten?
  • Krokopatra: What gear do you put on for meetups? What's your wizard's signature look?
  • Meowiarty: What is your go to spell for majority of your attacking?
  • The Coven: Which team of bosses is your favorite?
  • Chester Droors: Can you detect a traitor NPC before they reveal their self?
  • Randolf Spellshine: Which boss' lair or dungeon do you like the most?
  • Lord Bramble: Who's the most aesthetically pleasing boss?
  • Do-Daga: What boss would you say you have farmed most? Why?
  • Jade Oni: Do you farm for gear you want, or do you prefer to craft/buy with crowns?
  • Zeus: What was the most exciting battle for you? Describe it.
  • Malistaire Drake: Who's your favorite Wizard101 villain?
  • Nordi: Who do you like to quest with?
  • Big Salgio: How many different decks to you use?
  • Mithraya: What kinds of bosses do you hope to see in the future of Wizard101?
  • Tik-tik Snaketongue: What's the most annoying boss you have fought? Which spells really grind your gears?
  • Belloq: If your wizard could gain some cheat like a boss would have, which would you pick?
  • Spectral Guardians: What gear do you usually use in combat? Why?
  • Poseidon: What role or school do you like to play in a group? Which school do you like to solo with?
  • Jabberwock: Do you play solo? If you do, what's your strategy?
  • Nameless Knight: Do you read the text when questing or just skip through the plot?
  • Pendragon: Which boss would you choose to help you as a minion?
  • Ponce de Gibbon: Have you ever gotten stuck on a certain boss? What finally helped you finish them off? How many tries did it take?
  • Storm Caiman: How much damage do you normally do? What's the highest you've ever seen yourself do?
  • Malistaire the Undying: Which quest arc is your favorite?
  • Hades: What's the longest battle you can remember?
  • Deep Spawn: What's more important: blades or traps?
  • Morganthe: Is Morganthe gone for good?
  • Shane von Shane: When was the last time you were defeated in combat?
You Smell Like Alcohol

Originally posted by miscinterests

Requested by anonymous:  can u do a dylan o'brien request where you come home after a girls night out but you’re kinda drunk, dylan is already sleeping but you wanna cuddle so you sneak into the bed, u accidentally wake dylan & then u talk & kiss & smut happens hehe I love you and your writing ❤️

GIF IS NOT MINE

WORDS: 647

WARNING: smut

A/N: Thank u so much! I hope u like ii!

Y/N’S P.O.V.

“This night was amazing! We need to do it more often!” Melissa yelled and I waved at her.

“You’re totally right, girl!” I laughed. “Bye, now thanks for paying the taxi!”

I laughed again and I opened the door, I almost fell and I held the door. I locked the door and walked to the room.

“Dylan?”

I look at my boyfriend and I see that he’s sleeping.

“Aw, look at you, my cute little boyfriend.” I laugh.

I lay next to him and try to hug him, but he wakes up.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, I want o cuddle.”

“You’re drunk?”

“Just a little bit.” I laughed again.

“You smell like alcohol.”

“Sorry. I wanted to cuddle.”

“It’s ok.”

He looks at me and laughs.

“Your hair is a mess. I guess the “girl’s night” was fun.”

“Jessica called her boyfriend and told him that she’s having an affair with her boss.”

“What?”

“She was sooooo drunk.” I laugh.

Dylan laughs and I look at him.

“You look so cute.”

“Me?” He asks.

“Yeah, and sexy too.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not that drunk ok? I drank a bit but not like Jessica.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I don’t have an affair with my boss.”

Dylan laughed and I smiled at him.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

are you taking bellarke prompts? if so I would love this "I kissed you so the cops chasing me would pass by but it's been five minutes and we're still making out in this alley" au

So I may have taken your prompt and turned it into the Prohibition Era AU that nobody asked for.  But the idea of Bootlegger!Bellamy in a suit was way too good to pass up. ;)

Also, for reference THIS is a link to “Let’s Misbehave” and THIS is a link to “The Charleston”.  In case anybody wants the appropriate background music.


Harlem, New York City, 1928

We’re all alone, no chaperone

Can get our number

The world’s in slumber

Let’s misbehave!

Bellamy Blake should have been sick of that song.  After all, the band had played it ten times a night, every night, for the past month.  But how could he hate it, when it kept the crowds so happy?

There certainly was a crowd tonight.  It was a Saturday and The Arcadium was packed wall to wall.  The floorboards shook under the pounding of dancing feet and smoke hung so thick in the air that he could barely make out the far side of the room.  (Not that he was doing anything to help that problem, since he was smoking a cigarette of his own.)  Outside, the summer night was sweltering; in here, it was positively oppressive.  But it didn’t seem to bother the throng.  Or Raven, who was standing next to him with a satisfied grin on her face.

“Ain’t this just the bee’s knees?  We’ve gone through twenty bottles of gin since doors opened!” she was telling him, “Might have to get more before next week is out.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, “Are you on the level?  You do know it’s illegal, right?” he deadpanned, “These shipments are actually rather complicated.  I can’t just go to the corner store and pick you up a bottle of giggle water whenever you want.”

She plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag, “Look, when we all went in on this place, you said you could keep the stuff flowing,” she pointed an accusing finger, “Said you were the real McCoy, the best booze hook up we’d ever find.  And so far, you’ve been right.  So don’t be giving me beef just cause I ask you to do your job, Blake.  Anyway, more hooch is more drunk, happy people and more drunk, happy people is more money for us.  We’re coming up in the world, you know?”

She had him there.  They had managed to build this place up from nothing- him, Raven, Miller, and Murphy- and now that it was actually turning a profit, he didn’t want to be the one to ruin it.  He’d have to see Lincoln about getting another shipment down from Canada…

Raven was still talking, “Oh, and I told Murphy that Finn ain’t allowed in here anymore.  So if you see that bastard, you give him the bum’s rush, you hear me?  I didn’t survive polio just to waste my time dealing with a cheating ass like him.”

“Sure thing, boss,” he offered a lazy salute, knowing it would never get that far.  Even if he did get past Murphy, which he wouldn’t, Raven was more than capable of handling Finn.  Bum leg or not, Raven could beat anybody five ways to Sunday.

As if to emphasize his thought, she smacked him on the arm so hard it stung, “Would you take a look at that!” he followed her gaze to the staircase on the far wall, where a few girls were making their way into the room, “We are coming up in the world, and how!”  When Bellamy just shrugged, she let out a groan, “Don’t you ever read a damn newspaper?  Don’t you know who that is?” she pointed, “See the blonde there?  That’s Clarke Griffin.”

“Sounds vaguely familiar.”

Raven rolled her eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t get stuck, “Clarke Griffin?  The Griffins?  Griffin Trust Company?  Her family built half of Manhattan and about a zillion miles of railroad out west.”

“Oh. Oh,” Now the name clicked and Bellamy wondered how he could have forgotten.  The Griffins were the closest New York had to actual royalty.  The family had featured in a newsreel when he took his sister to the movies the week before; they had been attending some sort of charity ball.  The girl, Clarke, had been wearing a fancy dress from a fancy French fashion house.  Octavia had yet to shut up about it.  Tonight, she was dressed to the nines in a pink beaded number that didn’t quite reach her knees and managed to hug all her curves in just the right way, with a rope of pearls around her neck and feathers in her hair.

“Hey!”  Raven snapped her fingers and he realized he’d been staring, “Girl ain’t in here five minutes and you’re already stuck on her,” she laughed.

“I’m not stuck on anybody,” he protested.

“You say,” she snorted, “Maybe you should go keep her company.  Turn on some of that rakish charm.  But don’t go buying her any drinks!  And tell Jasper to give her the expensive stuff.  She’s rich as King Tut and we want her to spend.  If she’s anything like the other Dumb Doras we get in here, it’ll be easy enough to do.  I would do it myself but Miller wants to talk about something in the office, so I gotta go next door,” she pushed him away with a gleeful, “have fun!”

Clarke and her friends were much closer now, making their way towards the bar, and it was clear that the black-and-white newsreel hadn’t done her justice.  Her hair was such a bright blonde that it stuck out even through the haze of cigarette smoke and her pink cheeks made dimples when she laughed.  Bellamy was surprised to find himself nervous, an absolutely ridiculous thing to be.  He talked girls into buying drinks all the damn time.  Hell, he did it so much that Raven should probably pay him extra.  Still, he checked to make sure that his hair was smooth and his tie was straight before slipping deftly through the crowd and onto the bar stool next to her.

“Whaddya think, whiskey or gin?” she was asking her friend.

“You might want to start with a cocktail,” he said, “Good for a first-timer.”

She looked over her shoulder, surprise quickly turning to suspicion, “Who says I’m a first timer?”

“Well, you’re Clarke Griffin, aren’t you?  Daughter of Abigail Griffin, legendary champion of temperance?” he smirked, “I wonder what the most famous teetotaler in the world would think of her daughter ordering gin in a basement speakeasy.”

“What my mother thinks is none of your concern,” she bit back, “And this is not my first time in a speakeasy or drinking alcohol, not that it’s any of your beeswax.  Now if you’ll excuse me?”

“Well if you’re a connoisseur of liquor, then go with the whiskey,” he went on, “Much better than the gin.  I should know.  I’m the one who buys it.  Bellamy Blake, rum runner extraordinaire” he extended a hand.

She turned to shake it, looking him up and down with cool blue eyes, “That so?”

“Jasper!” he called, holding her gaze, “Two hits of that Tennessee stuff.”  When the drinks appeared, he drained one and handed the other to her, “On the house.  I’d love to get the opinion of an expert.”

Panic flashed across Clarke’s face but it disappeared when she saw his smirk.  With a steely glint in her eye, she took the glass from him and tossed the whiskey back in one go.  To her credit and his amazement, she managed to hold his gaze for about five seconds before her face turned bright red and she gave in to a spasm of coughing.

“I told you,” he laughed, “cocktails are easier.”

“I…have had…alcohol before,” she choked out, “just…not backwoods moonshine.”

“So, a cocktail then?” he went to call for Jasper.

“No.  Whiskey.”  She was sitting up straight now and her jaw was set, though her cheeks were still flushed, “I want more whiskey.  It’s not half bad, for moonshine.  Not as good as Pop’s stash of scotch,” she sighed, “but I suppose down here you just have to take what you can get, right?  Even if it’s fit for nothing but stripping varnish off the furniture.”

“Well, not everyone’s rich enough to pop over to Scotland whenever they get thirsty, princess,” he retorted.

They went through three more glasses of whiskey, albeit at a slightly slower pace, and countless more barbs and insults.  By then, Clarke’s friends had long since abandoned her.  But she didn’t seem to care and Bellamy certainly didn’t mind having her to himself.  Conversations with girls at the bar almost always ended in them either giggling nonsensically or slapping him across the face.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had met someone who not only rose to all his challenges, but also smacked them down so effectively with biting comebacks of her own.  He had always considered Raven the smartest girl he knew but Clarke could easily give her a run for her money.  And where Raven was terrifying in her anger, Clarke somehow managed to become even more attractive when she got riled.  And boy, was it easy to rile her up.  She was in the middle of correcting all of his opinions on Karl Marx (which he had made ridiculous on purpose) when the band started up the Charleston and people stampeded towards the dance floor.

“Oh, I love this song!” she exclaimed.

“You wanna dance?” he yelled over the din.

Clarke leaned in close and for one stomach-flipping second he thought she was going to kiss him right there.  But then she cupped one hand around her mouth and said, “Well, that’s the great thing about the Charleston- a girl can go dance all by herself if she wants to!”  She hopped off of the stool and started walking away.  She only got a few steps before taking pity on him, throwing a brilliant smile over her shoulder, “But I suppose you can come along!”

She was as energetic on the dance floor as she was in conversation, a whirlwind of bouncing beads and flying feet.  Bellamy prided himself on his excellent dancing ability but Clarke easily kept pace with him, laughing with delight the whole time.

“At least your dancing’s better than your whiskey!  You ain’t half bad!” she told him.

“Right back at you!” he smiled, spinning her around.

The Charleston turned into a foxtrot and from there, the band switched to “Let’s Misbehave”, which seemed a bit ahead of schedule.  It usually took them about three hours to work their way back to it.  Unless…damn, had it been three hours already?  They were still moving and Clarke had started singing along, “There’s something wild about you child that’s so contaaaagious, let’s be outraaaageous!” she danced closer, until only the smallest possible space remained between them, smiling at him with bright red lips and an almost feral look in her big blue eyes.  She cocked an eyebrow, “Let’s misbehave.”

Oh yes.  He’d misbehave with her all night long.

He leaned down to tell her so (because even in heels, she barely reached his chin), when an alarm bell went off somewhere above them and all hell broke loose.

“Bellamy, what’s going on?!” Clarke yelled, as people started running for the exits.

Her question was answered when a woman screamed,“It’s a raid!”

Shit, hadn’t Miller paid Kane off this month?  Apparently, the bribe hadn’t been big enough because that alarm meant that the cops would be here any second.  There was an almighty crash as Jasper pulled the lever that flipped the bar and dumped all the liquor into the sewer.  They’d lose whatever had been brought out for the night but it was better than losing the whole stock, which Bellamy had insisted on hiding in another building.

The first cops were coming down the stairs and the crowd was getting rough now, desperate to avoid them. Clarke yelped as a man tripped and almost shoved her to the floor.  Bellamy hauled the guy up by his jacket and threw him back into the crush.  "You okay?“ she nodded and he took a firm hold of her hand, “Come on, I’m gonna get us out of here.”

He led her away from the chaos rapidly developing by the entrance, shouldering a path through the panicked throng and going straight for the back of the room.  Once they were there, he yanked on one of the wall sconces and a section of the wood paneling cracked ever so slightly open.  He shoved hard and the wood gave way with a creak of protest, swinging into the hallway hidden behind it.  He chivvied Clarke through and kicked the door shut, plunging them into darkness.  That didn’t last long, though, since a few moments of searching produced the flashlight he’d stashed there awhile back.  The first thing he saw was Clarke staring at him, jaw dropped, as though he’d just parted the Red Sea.

“You really think I’d run a speak easy and not have a extra way out?” he chuckled.

“I heard speakeasies had secret doors but…I’ve never actually seen one before,” she replied.

“Oh this place has all sorts of surprises,” he smirked, stepping a bit closer, “I’d love to give you the grand tour but maybe on a night when we don’t have cops on our tail.”

“Sounds like a date,” she smirked right back.

They kept staring at each other until a loud bang on the other side of the door jolted him back into action.  He took her hand again and led her to the end of the passageway, where a rusty ladder was bolted into the wall.  "There’s a trapdoor at the top,“ he explained, “I’ll go first and get it open.  It’ll dump us into a back alley, away from the cops.”

“Swell,” she nodded.

He started to make his way up the ladder.  Clarke had just stepped onto the first rung when the door flew open and a blue-uniformed man crashed into the hallway.  He saw them almost immediately.  "Hey, you!  Stop right there!“

"Go!” Clarke commanded.  Bellamy climbed and she was right behind him.  But not fast enough.  The cop reached them just in time to clamp his fingers around Clarke’s ankle.  He started pulling her down and Bellamy was about to start really panicking but Clarke didn’t hesitate, just slammed her other foot down as hard as she could.  Her heel met the guy’s nose with a sickening crunch and he fell back to the floor with a cry of pain.  She started climbing again but Bellamy had been stunned into immobility.  Only her furious, “What are you doing?  Don’t just stand there!” got him moving again.

They made it through the trapdoor and into the alley without further incident.  Getting out of the alley, however, was going to be slightly trickier.  The shadows kept them hidden for now but it looked like the police were raiding every joint for four blocks.  The streets were just as chaotic as The Arcadium as hordes of people were dragged out of basements and back rooms and thrown into paddy wagons.   Bellamy and Clarke would have to get past the knot of cops clustered at the end of their alley in order to get clear.

“You gotta wonder who Kane’s trying to impress,” Bellamy muttered.

“Commissioner Kane?” Clarke snorted, “Probably my mother.”  He must have looked confused because she went on, “He’s a frequent dinner guest.  Last week, Abigail gave him quite the scolding on his tolerance of the city’s vice and sin.  Perhaps he’s trying to get back in her good graces.  Not that anyone stays there for long,” she added quietly.

“Well if he doesn’t get there, it won’t be for lack of effort,” Bellamy sighed, “Alright, let’s just try the ‘walk by real casual’ method.  But if I say run, you run, got it?”

“Abso-posi-tutely,” she nodded.

They edged onto the sidewalk and luck seemed to be on their side- the cops had their backs to them, watching a scuffle that had broken out nearby.  Clarke wound her arm through his and they started up the street, walking only slightly faster than normal.  Bellamy was just starting to think they could make it when they heard pounding footsteps and a group of people in rumpled suits and evening gowns came tearing past them.

“Stop! Police!”

He turned and saw the whole pack of cops take off towards them.

“Run?” Clarke asked.

“Run.”

They joined the crowd and made it three streets down before the officers started gaining on them and Bellamy knew that just running wasn’t going to work.  He pulled Clarke down the first promisingly dark corner, which turned out to be another alley that ended in a high wooden gate.  He pushed on the latch but the damn thing was locked on the other side.  Still, there might be enough footholds…

“We’re gonna have to climb it,” he panted.

“This dress is Parisian and these shoes are from Milan,” she snapped, “If you think I’m gonna climb that then brother, you got another thing comin’.”

“Christ’s sake,” he growled, “Would you prefer to have your mother bail you out of jail in the morning?  Maybe get some pictures taken for the paper so everyone can know what you’ve been up to?”

Clarke was shifting from foot to foot, brow furrowed in thought.  Meanwhile, the police whistles were getting closer and closer.  Bellamy was about to pick her up and throw her over the gate, Italian shoes and all, when she grabbed his hand.

“Kiss me,” she commanded.

What? Why?” Not that he didn’t want to kiss her because, God knows, he did but now didn’t seem like a swell moment to do it.

“Because who the hell stops running from the cops to neck in an alley?” she retorted.  She grabbed his tie and pulled and then his mouth was on hers and he could smell the whiskey on her breath and suddenly moonshine had never smelled so good.

He backed her up into the shadows and against the wall as his hands went to her waist and into her hair.  Clarke was gripping his shirt, pulling him forward until their bodies crashed together.  Her breasts pressed into his torso, dragging a groan from deep in his throat.  She made an eager noise and their kiss deepened until her hands were in his hair and his tongue was in her mouth and damn, she tasted like heaven.  He pulled away; her whimper of protest turned into a moan as he made his way down her jaw and grazed his teeth along her clavicle.  She wrapped a leg around his waist, guiding one of his hands up her thigh until his fingers raked along her garter belt and it was all he could do not to tear her dress off right then and there.  Clarke was already pulling at his clothes, untucking his shirt so her hands could skim the line of his pants.  

Bellamy couldn’t get enough of her.  He kissed every bit of exposed skin he could reach- her mouth, her shoulder, her ears, the skin just above the swell of her breasts.  Her skirt was hiked up around her waist, his jacket was gone, and her fingers were fumbling at the buttons of his shirt before he could finally gather enough brainpower to check their surroundings.  The street was dark and quiet; the cops and the crowds must have been long gone.  

“We should go,” he said softly.

“Mmm, why?” Clarke took his hand and sucked on one of his fingers and his eyes almost rolled back into his head.

“Because,” he brought her mouth to his for a hungry kiss, “I know a few places, more comfortable places, where we could continue this conversation.  Only if you want to, of course.”

“Well, like the song says,” she touched her lips to the spot right below his ear and whispered, “Let’s misbehave.”

Found my first jumping puzzle in Lion’s Arch in GW2. Taunted the entire time by a ghostly pirate who kept flicking the lights on an off at the hardest bit. He tutted (albeit proudly) at me for cheating when I found a torch.

Didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d already turned the gamma all the way up in the graphics settings.

Day 11: Five favourite books.

Gee, it’s even harder than five favourite movies.

  • And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie
  • Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
  • Pet Sematary by Stephen King
  • The Book Thief by Markus Zuzak
  • Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier

+ An Autobiography by Agatha Christie, A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket, The Master ang Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, Harry Potter by J.K.Rowling, Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury…