floor gold

anonymous asked:

what all has Asac done thats bad

Racist towards the Chinese on Facebook, said that they were underage on gymcastic because of Deng Linlin’s “baby tooth” (it’s actually just a crooked tooth that she got fixed with braces after retiring), said Cheng Fei only got vault bronze because the games were in China (it was cause of the COP not China), apparently left Brown cause it was too liberal for her, tweets while driving, was mad about traffic due to anti Trump protestors, a shitty sport in general (see her reaction to losing floor gold to Shawn in 2007, said those things about Cheng Fei despite Cheng Fei comforting her in 2008 after her 2 falls in TF)

4

“Guess it runs in the family.”

Blessed are the Poor!

D&D 5e

Context: We took 8 sessions (32 irl hours) to deliver a mysterious box to a far away mages guild. Finally, on the last session, 5 out of 6 of the party go to claim the reward, whilst the 6th member (Neutral Good Cleric, who joined the party late and so wasn’t officially on the delivery quest) stays on the boat to help the NPC survivors of our journey, sacrificing his share of the reward in order to help.

*In the Guild*

Guild Member: Thank you for this. We have been waiting an awfully long time for these components.

Rogue: Yes, it was a hard journey. We were told there was a reward?

Guild Member: A substantial one! 60,000 gold pieces will be transferred to your assigned guild bag

Mech Construct and Barbarian (simultaneously): Our WHAT!?

Guild Member: You should have received one at the start of your quest?

Barbarian: We didn’t get a bag!!!

DM: Guys…you remember that bag that you looted off your teammates corpse a few sessions back?

All players begin to remember

DM: Yes, that one. The bag that you…kind of……left on the ship?

STUNNED SILENCE

Cleric, On the Ship (OOC): I ROLL FOR PERCEPTION!!! *Rolls Mod 20*

DM (laughing): As you pass one of the rooms, you hear a loud thunk and a scattering sound. When you enter, the floor is littered with gold and a strange bag in the corner is filled to the brim

Cleric: BLESSINGS OF NASHAL! NO POOR WILL GO WITHOUT FOOD TODAY!

ENTIRE PARTY RIOTS

(After 10 minutes, the 5 at the guild rolled initiative and started a ‘Rat Race’-style mad dash to the boat, tripping each other up along the way, trying to be the first one to get the 60,000 gold off of the Cleric) 

4

HELLO POLICE I’D LIKE YOU TO ARREST THIS BOY FOR BEING A FCUKING SWEETHEART AND MELTING MY HEART THAT’S NOT ALLOWED

Loki’s Very Special Girl

It’s Kinktober.  I am doing day 1 prompts:  Spanking, aphrodisiac, sleepy sex

Request:  I had two requests for Loki non-con, and one for Loki/Virgin, so using these.

Warning:  Non-con/rape. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU. Also, turns into dub-con. Kinks. 

Pairing: Loki/Reader

A/N:  Loki is my muse this evening.  This is more like 3 drabbles (all about 1000 words).  Pre Avengers movie. 

Tags: @thecynicalnerd @marauderice @mac5323 @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers @negan–is–god @kellyn1604 @roschelesworld @taintedgenre @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @purplemuse89 @blondesouthsquad @xbergiex @bellaballanda @theariel85 @fashun–deevah 

Aphrodisiac

Your head was pounding as consciousness returned.  All you could see was pure blackness.  The first thing you did was take a deep breath.  You knew to stay calm.  S.H.I.E.L.D had trained you for hostage situations.  It never occurred to you that this particular training would come into play on your first mission, but as inexperienced as you were, there was no way you would flip out.  They had chosen you to be an Agent because of your natural talents, letting them down was not an option.

A few deep exhales calmed you enough to assess your situation.  The room itself was not black, there was a bag over your head.  You were seated in a chair, your ankles cuffed to each leg with about an inch and a half of chain, your hands to the arms with even less leeway. The chair was metal and bolted to the ground.  The only chance of escape meant the picking the cuffs.  You could feel the spot for the key, but without eyesight chances of setting your hands free was slim to none.  While it was unfavorable, you knew you had to wait until your captor arrived.  

This was not supposed to happen.  You were on a surveillance mission, looking into a possible terrorist threat in England.  Nobody should have noticed you, since your cover was the date of a diplomat.  You sipped champagne and wore a beautiful black dress, the satin still rested against your bare chest, and you wished you had opted for a more conservative look.  The target hadn’t even arrived yet.  You walked away to freshen up when there was a sharp pain in your neck.  It didn’t feel like a shot though. The blackout was instantaneous. What sort of drug had they used on you?  

Before you could dwell on the thought the sound of the door opening filled the room.  You rolled your shoulders back and tried to show no fear.  If they planned on torturing you for information they had no idea who they were up against.  You would choose death long before betrayal.  

Originally posted by loptrlaufey

Keep reading

Special Edition Young Jump GOLD Vol. 1: Saito Shuka & Takatsuki Kanako Mini-Interviews

Voice of Watanabe You
belonging to CYaRon!

Saito Shuka

Born on August 16th. Height 150.5cm. Blood type A.
Nickname = Shukashuu

Q. What’s your favorite Aqours song?
“Mijuku DREAMER. I find myself incredibly drawn to this song because I feel like the lyrics reflect my own mental state.”

Q. Why did you become a voice actress, and what are your current ambitions?
"My life has revolved around dance since I was in 4th grade. Then, I met You-chan and started doing voice acting work. I’d like to stick to voice acting and dancing for a long time!”


Voice of Kunikida Hanamaru
belonging to AZALEA

Takatsuki Kanako

Born on September 25th. Height 163cm. Blood type AB.
Nickname = Takatsuking (King)

Q. What’s your favorite Aqours song?
"Shoujo Ijou no Koi ga Shitai. Since it’s a song about girls who long for a more adult-like love, it has me wondering just who in Aqours could have come up with the lyrics (laugh)”

Q. Why did you become a voice actress, and what are your current ambitions?
“This franchise was my gateway to voice acting work. It’s always been my dream to sing songs for an anime, so I’m surprised that I’m singing for Aqours now!”


Translation: shukamod
QC: Mega

3

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Are you celebrating tonight?! This Imagine is based on a request from @reebgirl13. Also, it is free from spoilers.

31st October: Halloween. 🎃 | feat. Loki

Words: 3856
Warnings: shameless smut

Keep reading

  • Chapter One:
  • March 15th, 2024
  • 4: 57 PM
  • The air was heavy and stale. Neal was passed out on the floor. His gold like hair was brushing his still face. When Neal’s eyes opened all he could see was blurred colors. Neal could hardly speak. His lungs were collapsing. Neal rested his head against a wall made of Calcoon technology, which corrupted the sound waves and motion to protect the cell like enclosure from any external harm. The room was being controlled and monitored by an automated system that functions like a human being. Neal’s hand rested on the cold steel of the floor. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat. All he could hear was his own thoughts running through his head. Until they all stopped the moment he heard a beeping noise from his watch. The beep soon changed into a concerned voice.
  • “Neal, report.”
  • Neal responded with a quivering tone, “captured and harmed.”
  • The man whispered into the phone as if he was telling a secret, “Please tell me you’re okay.”
  • “You know I'm not.”
  • “Can you hold on for 30 minutes?”
  • “The poison takes effect in a couple of hours. I have no idea how long I’ve been passed out. It could kill me any minute now.”
  • “The last time you were recorded anywhere was two and a half hours ago. Think positive. We will get there in time.” Eli’s loud voice assured Neal, and the secret was told. “Can you describe your surroundings?”
  • “Alien lab… looks like an information hub. There are computers processing a list of numbers and symbols. Same language as the markings we have seen so far.”
  • “Any exits?”
  • Neal took a moment to look around, once his eyes adjusted. “I am sealed off. There is no way in or out. There are guards by the doors and heat and motion sensors to track my movements.” Neal paused, “I think we have to accept the fact that I might not make it. I know you want me to be optimistic about this.” Neal takes a deep inhale and as the words came out it sounded like sobbing, “I just can’t.”
  • “Yes, you can. Take your mind off of it. Think about what you're fighting for.” In attempt to lift Neal’s spirits.
  • “Oh, I know what I’ve been fighting for practically my whole life.”
  • “Then keep fighting. Fight for us.”
  • As the phone call ended, a tear streamed down Neal’s face. As he caught his breath he looked around the room. At that moment he could only see one possibility of how this would all end: He was going to die.
Not An Athlete (3/?) *Lance Tucker x Reader*

Originally posted by talkinboutmyimagination

Summary: You’re forced by your Athlete parents into taking a summer job, which becomes your full-time job as you balance university. Only the asshole you work for and help realises how much you do for him. He don’t like that, he don’t like you. Welcome to the world of Athletes, Lance Tucker is your tour guide. (I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: Explicit content, later on. Swearing, body shaming/ degrading language from Tucker. Asshole Tucker (I’m talking straight up rude.)

 <Previous - Next>


Your mum once gave you advice, it wasn’t exactly handy advice at the time and you didn’t really understand why she gave it to you in the first place but you still took it in, still often think about it because it’s some good advice. She once told you that if you ever have an argument with your partner, you should go for a long drive, no destination and no one else just you. It’s meant to help clear your mind, let you drive your feelings out and really think about what was said and what you want to say. You’ve done that, many times, over mostly friends but it worked.

You can’t say it’s working well for Tucker. The closer you got to Las Vegas the angrier you become, the more irrational your thoughts got, you were white-knuckling the steering wheel as you glared at the welcome sign to Las Vegas. You have no idea, how in the hell, Lance got your number and what possessed him to phone you; doesn’t he have friends? A girlfriend? One of his booty-calls that could’ve picked him up?

You pulled up to Caesar Palace, it was a little much. The fountain, the valet that gave a judgemental look at your old Volvo. The outside, although grand, couldn’t compete with the interior design of the palace. The marble floors, the gold lining and decor, and the columns: it was breathtaking. You walked to the reception, oil paintings behind the gold-mirrored desk, everything just screamed pretentious but yet, it was impressive. You pulled the denim jacket you wore closer to your body, the woman grinning from ear-to-ear at you.

“Hello, welcome to Caesars Palace, what can I do for you this morning?” Her name tag stating that her name is Sara.

“Hey, I’m here to pick up a guest, I don’t know what room he is in or if he’s under his name,” she nodded as you looked utterly dumbfounded, “the name is Lance Tucker and he requested me for pick-up, for some reason.” She nodded as she typed onto a keyboard, looking at a screen.

She picked up a phone just beside her and dialled a number, grinning at you as she waited for whoever to pick up the phone, it’s a few short, awkward, seconds of silence. “Hello, Mr Tucker. This is reception calling, a guest is here for you, a young female.” You tap the counter absent-mindedly. “Should I send her up?” is the next question, “she said you were expecting her, okay, I’ll be sure to do so.” Sara puts the phone down, “he’s in one of our penthouse suites, in the Palace Tower, I’ll have someone escort you.”

You followed a young male, a bell-hop, through the building. You had only ever seen pictures of Caesars Palace, it was bigger than you expected, at every turn, there was something to look at and admire. Pools and spas, plus showrooms and obviously, casinos; no wonder Lance came all the way here. You were shown right to the door, where he swiped a keycard and let you in, telling you to enjoy your stay.

The penthouse, well, it was bigger than your entire apartment. It had a balcony the size of your kitchen, bigger from where you were standing. Black marble floors, the furniture looked brand new, and it had its own kitchen; not that you expected Lance to be cooking whilst here since they have Gordon Ramsay’s Bar & Grill. You could see it went off in three different directions; you looked down one hallway, seeing a door slightly ajar, hoping that Lance was somewhat decent you walked down towards it. 

You pushed the door open, it was dark with the shutters down and a body was laid in bed, you assumed it was Tucker. 

“Tucker, wake up!” You yelled and heard him grumble his reply, a muffled ‘fuck you’ being thrown in. “No, get the fuck up, I didn’t drive all the way here for you to treat me like shit. Get up now!” You flicked the light switch on, you could just see his brown, messy hair from under the plush duvets before you walked back out of the room calling his name again.

You sat on the barstool when Lance finally emerges, eyes still half shut and squinting against the bright lights, his hair a mess and only grey sweat pants that were hanging low on his hips; how the hell was they staying up was a good question. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at you, he blinked rapidly as he sat on the cream sofa.

“Why the fuck are you here?” He asked, voice still hoarse from just waking up and scratchy from whatever drinks he consumed last night when he texted you.

You sighed with annoyance. “Of course, drunk texts, I shouldn’t have bothered. You text me asking for me to come get you, you threatened my job.” He was still frowning before he sighed, head falling into his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. “Why did you call me? Don’t you have friends to come get you? Aren’t they here with you?” You glanced around, looking back at the hunched over Lance.

“You’d be the only one that would actually show up, you need your job,” he muttered, “it was an easy bribe.” He lifted his head, hands covering his mouth as he stared right at the blank flat screen TV. “I drank a lot last night.” He sighed to mostly himself.

You crossed your arms, “I’ll bite the bait,” he looked at you with an unreadable expression. “Why did you need me to come pick you up, you’re in Las Vegas, isn’t this your ideal hunting ground?” His lips curved up at that comment but set back into a frown; he slouched against the back of the sofa, arms crossing over his chest.

“…I came here for an event, it’s kind of a big deal but…” he trailed off, a look you haven’t ever seen on Lance before, well, he never really showed anything but a smirky confident idiot. This was different, by far, it was shyness and embarrassment. “My parents are here, celebrating my father, forty-six years of being in the sports industry.” An edge of bitterness harshened his words, he wasn’t looking at you but you could tell he felt vulnerable; exposing a side of him like this.

“Isn’t this meant to be a fun occasion? A party?” He rolled his steely blue eyes at you, chuckling lightly at that.

He shakes his head, “You haven’t met my parents. You hate me, you would loathe them, I can’t stand the bastard and my mum isn’t any better. I guess, last night it got to me.” It’s silent, “You should probably go. Before they get back, don’t speak of this, to anyone. Got it?” 

Before you can answer that the penthouse’s front door opens. A couple walks through, talking amongst themselves, the older male looks a little like Lance but the woman looked a little young to be his mother, maybe his sister? 

The male had slicked back, dark hair, and piercing, hooded eyes with a grey suit. He was old, obviously but he was tall and very lean, clearly he still kept in shape despite his age. The woman beside him was small, tanned and young, you could say, younger than you! She was skinny, really skinny but had great… assets. You weren’t one to judge but you felt insecure in front of this girl. 

Lance’s P.O.V

“Harry, you’re up.” Lance froze on the spot at the sound of his father’s voice, he glanced to you for a moment before turning swiftly around and meeting his father’s piercing gaze. “I’ve come to collect you for lunch, your mother has arrived and insisted we all gather,” he didn’t sound to keen on the idea, not that Lance was but, at least he could stand to be around his mother.

It takes a few seconds for Lance to remember how to speak, “Uhh yeah, it must’ve slipped my mind,” he runs a hand through his hair messily before turning back to you. “I was just saying goodbye to my…friend, then I’ll get dressed.” He nods for you to stand up, beckoning you quickly to the door before you could be roped into his messed up life.

“And here I thought you’ve changed,” Lance’s father began and made you stop in your tracks, Lance sighs heavily. “Why can’t you find a nice girl, instead of these groupies, life isn’t about alcohol and fucking, Harry.”

“Spare me the lecture, you’re the one that cheated, not mum.” Lance snapped back, “she isn’t a groupie either, she’s… working for me,” he doesn’t have to look at you to know how uncomfortable you are, he can feel it.

Harry Senior, shakes his head. “Hookers don’t work for you, Harry.” Lance hears you scoff at the mention of the word hooker, he wants to laugh, he’s been with and seen hookers; you were definitely not one of those.

“She’s not a hooker, babe.” Sabrina, his new wife smiles, “that’s his girlfriend, obviously. He didn’t want you to know, meeting the parents is always scary, look at how protective he got over her.” Lance watched as his dad’s posture changed, straightening his back as he glanced you over, analysing you and Lance didn’t like that.

“That’s quite the accusation, he hasn’t had a girlfriend in years, is she your girlfriend?” The stare he received after the question had Lance stammering for an answer, apparently, the word ‘no’ no longer existed.

“Yes, she is.” Lance found himself saying in a moment of weakness, “I…-” he’s cut off by his dad, who walks around him and to you, extending a hand your way.

“Harry Tucker, the third,” you look at Lance over his father’s shoulders with wide eyes, raised eyebrows and a look of shock. “This is my wife, Sabrina.”

Lance watches as you shake his dad’s hand in silence for a few seconds, “Uh-I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” His dad stares at Lance, as you hug Sabrina, his eyes are piercing through him almost. He recognised that look, the same look he received when he won that silver once; disappointment and disgust. You weren’t good enough for his son or maybe, that’s just how his dad looks at him, neither answer would surprise him. 

“You should accompany us to lunch,” Lance already begins to excuse you from that awkwardness, “nonsense, I insist. She must meet your mother, get dressed, we’re leaving in twenty minutes.” Harry nods before opening the door and leaving with Sabrina behind him.

It’s silent as Lance watches the door close, not really believing what had happened just now, it only becomes reality when you start yelling at him. He didn’t really have any excuse other than his dad scared the shit out of him, he could never form a sentence around him and he was always intimidated, even as a child; the way his dad would glare if he messed up, you’d think he would have become the perfect son.

“I don’t know what just happened,” Lance admitted quickly, “he’s just really intimidating sometimes, I couldn’t think and… you should’ve left when I told you to.”

Oh, so it’s my fault.” You asked, E/C eyes full of rage, “I didn’t come here to play your girlfriend, Lance, or should I say… Harry!” You poked his chest firmly, he slapped your hand away with a slight glare. “Fuck, Lance, I can’t stay here. I can’t have lunch and meet your parents, this is insane. You have, to tell the truth,” you panic to him.

Lance exhales slowly, biting his lip as he thinks everything over. “Okay, listen, I can’t tell my dad I lied. He’ll give me the lecture, it’s one weekend, one lunch. I’ll… pay you!”

“I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend, Lance Tucker.” He rolls his eyes, “you know how stupid this sounds? One day ago you couldn’t stand me, now I’m here being asked to be your fake girlfriend and get paid…this is ridiculous,” Lance crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “How much?”

“How much do you want?”

Lance watches as you debate a little with yourself. “I’ve got to buy new books, at least, four hundred dollars worth.” Lance frowns, “I don’t want to ask for too much and have you laugh at me for it.”

“I’ll round it up to five hundred, think of it has compensation. You don’t mention this to anyone, got it? Last I need is you running your mouth,” you shrug and Lance finally looks at you for real. You’re in a denim jacket plus blue skinny jeans, your hair up and hardly any make-up, you’re pretty but not dressed correctly. “You got clothes with you? Like a dress?” You shake your head and he sighs.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” You place a hand on your hip jutting it out with a sour expression; your attitude was going to be a problem too but he couldn’t fix that. 

“Everything, you can’t have lunch with my mother and be dressed like that,” he walks off and towards his room. “I’ll have the hotel send something up, what’s your size?” He turns and looks at you, “nevermind, you’re like a ten. Do something with your hair,” he slips back into his room, hearing you follow behind him.

**

Lance paces in front of the walk-in wardrobe doors, hearing you grumble to yourself about the dress and him, mostly him. He hated that you were roped into this, his life, it was embarrassing and humiliating. He tried, so hard, to remove himself from his home life because of his father. The man was cold, cruel and manipulative, everything that Lance tried to not be but ended up being like his mother; competitive, in every sense of the word and egotistical.

Growing up with Harrison Tucker as a father was torture. Lance had to be like him, he had to be a great athlete, the best. Even that isn’t good enough; he wins one silver amongst his many golds and instantly he’s a failure.

“So, you’re name is Harry?” He hears your voice through the doors.

“Yeah, after my dad and his dad, and his dad before him.” Lance rolls his eyes, crossing his arms, “It’s like some stupid tradition, my middle name is Lancelot, my mother liked it and I decided since there’s already one Harry Tucker on the scene.” He explained leaning against the wall as he waited for you.

It’s a few silent seconds. “And the woman beside your dad… guessing, not your sister.”

He laughed loudly. “No, definitely not. My parents divorced when I was sixteen, he was messing around with a young gymnast, of age, not that it mattered. Anyway, Sabrina is his third or fourth wife. My mum always turns up to his awards because she thinks it’s important for us to still be a family, she’s twisted that way,” He shrugs to himself, “she was always better at business relationships than actual relationships; I rarely see her outside her office,” he trails off and stares at the wall ahead.

“That sounds rough,” he hears the doors slide open, “explains a lot about you, to be honest.” He rolls his eyes and glances at you, raising his eyebrows. “What’d ya think? Will this fool them now?”

Shamelessly he let his eyes trail over your body, he may still hate you, but he wasn’t one to pass up the opportunity of appreciating a female’s body. The bodycon dress was a royal blue, off the shoulder and mid-length, it fit you perfectly, a little too perfectly. When he, finally, let his eyes drift back to yours, you were glaring a little, only making his cocky grin grow.

“I’m setting rules,” he raised an eyebrow at that, “No getting too handsy; an arm around the waist is my limit, Tucker. I am not kissing you, ever, even being your fake girlfriend. Are we clear?” You asked sternly, he shrugged a shoulder in reply, “No, are we clear? I can leave, right now and not help you. I guess, your father already told your mother that you have a girlfriend, so are we clear?”

“Fucking Christ, we’re good. I don’t want to kiss you anyway, even faking it.” He watched as you rolled your E/C eyes at him, brushing a piece of Y/H/C hair behind your ear. “Let’s go, they’re waiting for us.”

He leads you out of the door and to the elevators, a nervous fluttering happening in his stomach. He always got like this when having to be around his parents, it was heightened a lot more with you next to him, having anyone meet his parents was sickening. He always avoided it, never told them when he had girlfriends because they’d run for the hills; if it wasn’t because of them getting fed up his arrogant ways, his parents would chase them off, for sure.  

“I’m nervous,” you admit to him and he scoffed, hiding his own behind the facade he built himself. “I’ve never had to meet someone’s parents before.” He frowned and looked down at you, you didn’t look at him, eyes remaining on the elevator doors. “It’s only for lunch, I’m actually a good actor, I got an A for theatre in school.” You mainly told yourself.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked abruptly, you finally looked up at him but the doors open before you can answer, people waiting for you to walk out. He sighs gently and escorts you through the crowd and towards the outside pool, where his parents are meeting for lunch.

The sun shines on the beautiful pool, people splashing and swimming around, more sunbathing on the loungers. His eyes land on a table by the bar, his father and mother sat, not talking as Sabrina yaps away about something uninteresting. His eyes connect with his mother’s, who smiles brightly and she hadn’t changed a day. She had aged, grey hairs that were mostly caused by the stress, blue eyes like his and an infectious smile- like yours- he shook that thought away.

“Lancelot,” she called and waved, standing up and walking to him. He met her with a hug, you trailing behind. “Look how you’ve grown,” she grinned looking at her son, “you look so handsome, of course, my genetics.” He chuckled at that, “I’m angry with you, by the way,” she tells him and he frowns. “I had to hear from your father that you’ve got a girlfriend! Hello, dear, I’m Erin.” He rolls his eyes as his mother pulls you in for a hug.

“Harry wasn’t supposed to meet her, she came as a last minute thing for me,” Lance explained, only being ignored as his mother fusses over you with a happy smile, taking your hand and leading you to the table. He trailed behind helping both, you and his mother, into chairs before sitting beside you.

It was awkward as his mother ordered more drinks, a sly comment of her drinking habits from his father, this was going to be the worst experience of his life. 

“So, how did you two meet? I want details.” His mother grins and Lance chokes a little on his drink, shit, he hadn’t thought about the questions she would ask.

(I had to cut this because it became too long, that’s why it ended kinda choppy. Anyway, I got this idea from my friend Amber, my original idea has altered, meaning instead of ten chapters it’s gonna be around twenty; thank her for that lol. Let me know what you think, so far. - Rosalee) 


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