do you mean queen

v-reb  asked:

Do you think the queen masturbates


I mean, she’s the effing queen. She’s gotta have like a royal sex toy collection with high tech shit that hasn’t even been released to the public. Just let that image sit with you for a bit… ~ Excerpt from my latest novel “Sex Dungeons: Royal Edition”

My question to you is, has/does the queen ever send nudes? If so, to whom?

For the heck of it, I decided to rewrite and expand on my idea of how Coran figures out dealing with Slav.

The multi-armed alien is curled in a tight little ball under a console in the Lions’ hanger when Coran finds him, having been tipped off by Yellow and the muttered sound of dire predictions.

A strange fellow this Slav may be, but he knows how to deal with the sight of someone having bad nightmares, and very gently taps a hand clamped over an ear with one of the cold bottles he’s carrying. “Easy, it’s just me,” he says when that draws a yelp and a frenzied attempt to curl up even smaller. “Come out of there and rehydrate before you sweat yourself to nothing.”

“I have only a twelve per cent possibility of being able to die of dehydration in my current condition,” Slav mumbles, but slinks out of his hidey-hole nonetheless. 

The bags under his eyes are pretty spectacular.

Coran gently waves the offered bottle in front of his face, and Slav eyes it suspiciously before snatching it and cracking the seal, sniffing at the spicy-sweet contents. “Belai? Why would you keep this in stock?”

He shrugs. “It’s a good idea to be stocked for everything,” he says as if that actually answers the question instead of dodges it, and pretends not to notice the very obvious change in the way Slav looks at him.

Maybe he answered more accurately than he wanted to. Oh, well.

He takes a seat on a mechanic’s stool and his slithery little drinking buddy clambers up onto the console and takes a swig. “More bad dreams about other realms?” Coran asks once Slav has had enough that the question won’t send him into a complete frenzy.

“Oh, my, yes. Always. So many. And the percentages of them happening are so high. There is a ninety-eight per cent possibility that our rescue mission on Rurikora will end with seven children dead and ourselves in captivity. Eighty-six per cent-”

“Slav. Have you ever tried not thinking about the likely timelines?” Coran asks, and Slav looks up from his bottle with a head-tilt that reminds him of Allura when she was a toddler.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, try imagining something completely outlandish. Like… Pidge becoming Queen of the Turimonquans.”

Slav blinks at him, then snorts out a barking noise that sounds like a laugh. “But that only has an-”

“Don’t tell me the percentage.”

“W-what? But you said-”

Coran thinks, tapping a fingertip against his own bottle. “Tell me… tell me what her coronation outfit looks like.”

And that, he discovers, is the secret. Never talk about the percentages. Percentages bring anxiety, and an anxious, stressed Slav is a bundle of nervous energy that drives the entire crew off the handle. 

So instead, every time Coran gets that itch up the back of his neck that means a certain alien is somewhere in the Castle having a breakdown, he quietly fishes a couple of bottles of Belai out of the cooling chambers, digs Slav out of wherever he’s hiding-

-and they talk.

About other timelines, mostly. Worlds that never happened, or have the slimmest chances of happening. But never in percentages. Instead, Coran always asks for visions, images, what Slav sees as his mind reaches out into those pathways that wind before and behind them.

“There is a timeline where we all really do end up becoming space pirates,” Slav says as he rolls his bottle back and forth between his paws.

“Yeah?” Coran takes a drink. “What are you wearing for your pirating outfit?”

“For some reason, I have many, many earrings. I do not understand. It seems very inefficient to have so many earrings.”

“Maybe it makes you look tough.”

“Hm. I have always wondered what it would be like to be the frightening-looking one for a change.”

“I don’t understand how you can put up with him,” Allura mutters when she notices the alien curled up peacefully beside him in a snoozing lump. “If I have to kick him off the piloting controls one more time, I’m going to scream.”

Coran absently pets an ear, and Slav mutters in his sleep, not about probability, but about energy sails and swords. “Just have to give him the right outlet, that’s all.”

Tea Party

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 1,434

Summary: Kim Taehyung is the class clown who you’ve really never had time for, but when your parents invite his over for dinner, you find yourself getting to know him in a way you’d never anticipated.

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Relationship Advice
  • Feyre: if you are ever pissed at your man, cause he did something stupid, just throw a shoe at his head or something. That usually gets his attention.
  • Mare: *yanks boot off* *hurls it across the table at Cal's head* *literally takes Cal out*
  • Feyre: I mean sure... if that's how you want to do it.
Caffeine Challenge #13

Alane stares at the mildew on the cold stone and doesn’t think she’d do anything differently. That doesn’t mean she’s happy here–she’s not. She’s cold and miserable and numb, the last being the worst thing of them all. The heavy iron shackles drain all the heat from her body and it’s just like her to take the one secret Alane gave to her in trust and abuse it.

The Queen comes for her as the day breaks. Alane can tell in the way people like her know these things. There are no windows in her cell.

The guards clatter to attention as the Queen descends the stairs, abandoning half-eaten breakfasts of day old bread and cold chicken. At the Queen’s side is Lord Poole, a man Alane doesn’t think the Queen trusts.

She is, apparently, wrong.

“Go,” the Queen says to her guards. “She can do no harm as she is.” The guards, to their credit, don’t argue. They probably think the Queen can take care of herself, especially since she’s only been Queen for a few weeks. Before, she was like them, among them, a resistance fighter.

And, hey, would you look at that, Alane used to be a resistance fighter too.

“My Queen,” Lord Poole says, a hint of a whine in his words. He’s as fair as Alane, but where she carries pink under her skin, he carries yellow. Lord Poole was not a resistance fighter. “I don’t think this is advisable–”

“Go,” the Queen says. Her cool, brown eyes flick to Lord Poole. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

Lord Poole’s face sours, but he knows his Queen. He stomps back up the stairs, muttering under his breath like her majesty is deaf.

The Queen stares after the Lord for a long moment, round face harsh. Alane would once have said that she could tell what the Queen was thinking, she would have once been right, but now? Now Alane is just as in the dark as everyone else.

“You knew the consequences,” the Queen says finally. When she looks at Alane, there’s weight in her eyes, on her shoulders, in the bow of her neck. It doesn’t make things better.

“I did what you asked,” Alane says. Nothing more, she doesn’t say. They both know anyway and it hangs in the air between them. A fact. An accusation.

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↳ Supergirl AU: Hades and Persephone
each year it creeps in sooner,
leaving bones aching for a hint of her warmth,
and it is not because he will not let her leave
it is because
she does not want to go. - (insp.)

Hey do you remember how when we were kids
we said it’ll be so great
we’ll never let anybody treat us this way
and we couldn’t wait to grow up and work hard
and be co-founder and queen
we didn’t need to own castles
but we’d be able to visit them
we didn’t expect big apartments
but we hoped they’d be clean
and let the light in and on cold days
be cozy enough with a blanket and a warm drink
that the word home would make your eyes smile
and I wouldn’t have to dream

Hey do you remember the plans we had
we’d travel and have a houseplant
maybe even some herbs I’d learn how not to kill
on bad days we’ll order pizza
and turn on something uplifting and empty,
dancing in the kitchen while the oven preheats
on good days we’ll pay our bills,
sit down to dinner, lean back
and smile on our full and tiny kingdom

Hey do you remember anyone telling us
what happens on the in-between days
or if it’s supposed to feel like
life only exists in between?
I thought our daydreams were simple
but maybe somewhere along the way
we didn’t realize that simple
might mean too grand or maybe
we just didn’t hear them trying to tell us
that it’s impossible to hope beyond highlight reels
and that there is no manual
for the rest of life, in between.

—  “Do We Wait a Little Longer?”

                     Oh it’s such a shame, that we don’t talk anymore…

(for @oparu, who needs some nice)

coffin-dust  asked:

For "send me a ship" can you do Darcy/Loki?

  • who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

Loki is the werewolf, thousands of years old and becoming more wolf, less man with every year. Darcy is the hunter, born and raised, but she’s never faced a quarry as skilled or dangerous as Loki.

  • who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

Loki is the merman (son of the Merking) who enjoys flouting the rules and visiting the surface, luring mortals into the water with his tricks. Darcy is the only child of a fisherman who takes his boat out when he disappears and demands that Loki gives him back right frigging now.

  • who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

Darcy is the witch, Loki is the black cat familiar who’s actually a cursed sorcerer and brings her a lot of luck with her spellwork. 

  • who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

Darcy’s the barista and Loki takes his coffee black with a lot of impatience

  • who’s the professor and who’s the TA

Loki is the professor. Professor of what, nobody’s quite sure. He lectures, people listen, but he doesn’t actually appear in any information provided by the university and nobody can sign up for his classes, they stumble into them accidentally. Darcy needs a bit of spare cash to get through her PhD and somehow ends up as his assistant even though she didn’t apply and nobody at the university seems to know about her either.

  • who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

Loki is the prince, obvs. Darcy is the knight, the daughter of a minor noble family who refused to accept her lot in life as “marry an old man and die in childbirth”. Instead, she’s found her niche as a dragon-slayer with help from her friend, the inventress Jane. Only trouble is, when she rescues Loki from the dragon who has him prisoner, she begins to suspect all is not it seems. Like, maybe, Loki’s really a dragon?

  • who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

Darcy’s the teacher, still new in the job and not sure if it’s really her calling. It does help pay her student loans. Loki is the widowed father of an adorable, precocious girl in Darcy’s class, but something tells Darcy there’s more to him than meets the eye. Why is an upper-class Brit living in small town Oregon, and why exactly is a six-year-old so convinced she’s a princess?

  • who’s the writer and who’s the editor

Loki is the writer. A pain in the arse, too, but at least Darcy isn’t his editor and only has to listen to her friend bitch about him while she deals with more easy-going authors. Right? What do you mean you’re leaving? Oh hell no, you can’t reassign that drama queen to me.

  • <p> <b><p></b> <b></b> The Evil Queen tries to murder someone<p/><b>Regina:</b> No, no bad Evil Queen. We do not run around and kill people. Bad, bad Queenie<p/><b></b> Robin tries to murder someone<p/><b>Regina:</b> No, no bad Robin. We do not run around and kill people. Bad, bad Robin.<p/><b>Robin & the Queen:</b> Lol like you never killed anyone<p/><b>Regina:</b> That's the past. We focus on the future. Do you guys know what that means?<p/><b>Robin:</b> ...<p/><b>The Evil Queen:</b> ...<p/><b>Regina:</b> It means you two are grounded.<p/></p><p/></p>