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Laps and Naps

Originally posted by ohh-bloodyhell

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x female!Reader - Cast x female!Reader

Request: So my idea was a fic with seb and reader on the set of Infinity War. Reader likes taking naps on the casts laps, and after a while seb notices that she’s never napped on his lap and gets a bit jealous. A few cast members notice his crush on the reader and one day reader finds seb and the rest of the cast sitting together and goes straight for his lap. The whole cast looks up in awe and snap multiple pictures and seb is all flustered and blushy. You can change it up if it didn’t make sense lol ☺️ (-anon)

Warnings: none, really!! just pretty fluffy stuff

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: it’s been such a weird week, and i really hope today will be good. but i’ve been havin’ a pretty bad mental-problems sort of day streak, so any memes sent to me are and will be greatly appreciated !!


“Y/N,” a distant, low voice sneaks through your sleepy mind. “C’mon, Y/N, I have to be in the suit in five minutes.”

The groggy veil of sleep slowly lifts off of your as you begin to wake-up. You could feel a heavy hand beginning to gently shake your shoulder.

“But I was so comfy,” your tired voice grumbles.

“I know,” Chris’s soothing voice drifts through the room. “But you’ve been sleeping on me for almost an hour, and I really have to get ready.”

Fine,” you groan, lazily pushing yourself up into a sitting position, snuggling into the corner of the couch as you pry open your heavy eyelids. “But you should know, that was a good nap.”

You blink away the sleep from your vision and look around the room, your gaze locking on Anthony.

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guide to falling out of love

i. go back to the places where you felt safe. examine your feelings, do you still feel safe on your own? become self reliant.

ii. go grocery shopping. select your memories like frozen peas and wonder bread. most you won’t like to remember, some you will be grateful for.

iii. invent new emotions for yourself, like how a tree feels when the wind blows through it. you are an open window.

iv. find words to describe yourself in ways they never would. observe how your eyelashes make tender shadows on your cheek, how the soft fabric of your favorite teeshirt touches your skin. it is enough.

v. fall in love with everything else. become addicted to morning sunlight and the weeds on your lawn. the moths hovering around your porch light are meant to be there. invite them in.

anonymous asked:

2009! Phan, Phil teaches Dan how to masterbaute for the first time

Includes religious!Dan. If you have trouble reading on mobile open in your phone browser.

Watching a horror movie at one AM isn’t one of Phil’s brightest ideas, but what else is a boy to do when there’s nothing else on TV but infomercials and confusing foreign films? He’s curled up on the couch with a blanket and some microwave popcorn, trying to convince himself that there’s nothing scary about the terrible acting and laughable CGI playing onscreen. Despite how awfully B-grade the film is, there’s just something about watching it this late while his parents are asleep that was always going to put him on edge. He checks his phone every few minutes, and, while the regularity of it is a plea for distraction, the underlying reason is impatience. He opens his text messages for the eleventh time that hour, but there’s still no reply. He knows Dan most likely just fell asleep and that’s why he hasn’t replied in almost four hours – although it would be strangely early for his nocturnal friend – but there’s still a nagging in his gut each time he checks. It probably comes from a selfish place of him just wanting to talk to Dan, but the horror movie isn’t doing much to calm his nerves. When his Motorola beeps with low battery Phil sighs, admitting defeat and tucking it between the couch cushions to break his constant loop. He settles further down into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders and letting himself become immersed in the plotline. It’s awful, but Phil is both invested and creeped out, so when a loud knock echoes from the front door he jumps about a mile.

‘Shit!’ he squeaks, jolting so violently his buttered popcorn goes everywhere.

His body snaps around and then freezes, staring over the back of the couch in the direction of the front door. His heart is racing but he holds his breath, listening. The rest of the house is completely silent. Who on Earth would be knocking past one AM? Phil tries to rid his mind of all the unhelpful horror situations it’s supplying him and instead thinks rationally. A neighbour, maybe? Some teenagers messing around? Phil lets go of a shaky breath, wondering if he can just ignore it – whoever it is, who are they to know he’s still up?

Phil jumps again at the second knock. He’s not past admitting that he’s scared, but he tells himself that it must be something important if they’re still there. He briefly considers waking up his parents to come check but then scowls, reminding himself he’s twenty-two, for God’s sake. He peels himself off the couch, letting the blanket and waterfall of popcorn fall to the floor, before walking with a new found confidence to the door.

He loses it the moment his hand hovers over the front light-switch. When it comes to making YouTube videos, his overreactive imagination is quite handy, but it’s not so much in this situation. He takes another deep breath, shaking the image of Jeff the Killer from his head, and then unlocks the door. He creeks it open slowly, just far enough to peek through, but when he sees the person on the other side he swings it wide open.

‘Dan?’ he says with utter disbelief, every ounce of his apprehension evaporating.

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Skulls and Roses ☠️🥀 (Part Five)

Jeon Jungkook

Tattooist AU!. College Au!

Genre: Fluff? - I guess, Tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 5k+

Part One I Part Four

Originally posted by bubblepopped

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Cleric Week: New/Converted Spells

image credit: Josu Hernaiz

It’s hard to come up with new healing and buff spells for a system like 5e, so I converted a bunch of D&D 3.5e ones! They then gave me a few ideas so I sprinkled in a few of new spells, as well.

Delay Death

Necromancy spell. Clr 3.

One dying creature you can see within 30 ft. is warded from death and damage while you maintain concentration for up to 1 minute. That creature does not need to make death saving throws and damage does not cause them to gain an automatic failed death save. Only if the creature takes more than 20 damage from a single source do they gain a failed death save.

Divine Agility

Transmutation spell. Clr 4.

One creature you target has a DEX score of 20 for one minute using while you maintain concentration. This spell has no effect if the creature already has over 20 DEX.

Extract Poison

Transmutation spell. Clr 3.

One creature you touch is cured of poison and no longer suffers from the Poisoned condition as you extract the poison from their body and into a plain stone that could fit in the palm of your hand. The stone turns black and can be thrown at a range of 20/60 ft. When a creature is hit with a poisoned stone, it deals 1d4 bludgeoning damage plus 6d10 poison damage and the creature becomes Poisoned for 1 minute. A successful CON saving throw halves the poison damage and negates the Poisoned condition.

Faith Healing

Evocation spell. Clr 1.

As Cure Wounds, except that it heals 1d12 + your spellcasting ability modifier. However, this spell does not have any effect on creatures that do not worship your deity.

Holy Star

Conjuration spell. Clr 7.

You summon a mote of radiant light that hovers just over your shoulder. It remains there for 1 minute as long as you maintain concentration. The mote of light will do one of the following options of your choice during each of your turns. Each turn you may change what you wish for it to do. The star takes up no actions as it acts completely on its own through your will.

  • The star will negate the effects of up to 1d4+3 spell levels of spells cast that target only you until your next turn.
  • The star grants you +2 AC as it shields you from attacks until your next turn.
  • The star casts Sacred Flame using your spellcasting ability modifier and caster level against a target of your choice.

Mystic Aegis

Abjuration spell. Clr 3.

You may use your reaction to cast Mystic Aegis. The next time that a harmful spell targets only you, you may force the caster of the spell to make a CHA saving throw against your spell save DC. If they succeed, you reduce the damage of the incoming spell by half. If they fail, their spell has no effect on you and is wasted.

Resurgence

Abjuration spell. Clr 1.

You may cast Resurgence as a bonus action. One creature of your choice that can hear you may make another saving throw immediately against an ongoing spell or effect that is currently afflicting them. If the new saving throw succeeds, the effect ends.

Soul Vessel

Necromancy spell. Clr 4.

When a living creature dies within 60 ft. of you, you may use your reaction to cast Soul Vessel. The creature’s soul, instead of departing to the afterlife, is drawn into a focus of your spell. The focus must be a vessel of some kind (a jar, a vial, a basket, etc.). The creature’s soul is stored in the vessel and can be spoken with as if it was still alive. As long as the creature’s soul vessel is not destroyed or damaged, the creature can be resurrected up to 1 year later without the need for a body. A new one is formed out of material from the astral and ethereal planes.

Spiritual Adviser

Divination spell. Clr 3.

For up to ten minutes using concentration, a small whispering mote of light hovers just by your ear and gives you advice that you can only hear. While it is active, you have a +1 bonus to Insight and Perception skill checks. You can cast Augury up to three times while the spiritual adviser is active. After the third casting, the adviser vanishes and the spell ends.

Surge of Health

Evocation spell. Clr 2.

You may cast Surge of Health using different actions, having varying effects. You target one creature within 15 ft. that you can see.

  • If you cast Surge of Health as a reaction, the creature regains 1 hit point.
  • If you cast Surge of Health as a bonus action, the creature regains 1d4 hit points.
  • If you cast Surge of Health as an action, the creature regains 4d4 hit points.
  • If you cast Surge of Health over the course of 1 minute, the creature regains 8d4 hit points.

Unburden

Transmutation spell. Clr 1.

One creature you touch is no longer afflicted by a condition that you choose, a poison, a disease, a curse, or a spell currently afflicting it. You then become afflicted with the same condition, poison, disease, curse, or spell as if you had just gained it.

Vigor

Transmutation spell. Clr 2.

One creature you touch regains 1 hit point each round that it has at least 1 hit point for 1 minute. This spell does not require concentration. 

Trouble (M)

Originally posted by binguwinner

Originally posted by xxxjenniekim

Characters:  G-Dragon (Kwon Jiyong, BIGBANG) X Song Mino (WINNER) X You (Reader, OC)

Genre:  Smut, CEO!AU

Warning/s:  Hardcore Smut, Daddy kink, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Threesome, etc. (My pass to hell tbh)

Plot:  When you and your boss had an unexpected visitor while you are having a sexy time in his office.

A/N:  This is going to be short (I tried) and pure smut dedicated to the lovely @sm-gd  I hope you like this babe ;)  Also, I didn’t proofread at all haha I wrote this for about 30 mins so I apologize for any errors

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Even (Bucky x reader)

Good evening, sinners! On this week’s edition of Smut Saturday, I decided to go with a request that I got a while ago. It’s our dear Bucky Barnes. I hope you enjoy and have fun reading! I love you guys. xoxo

I hope you enjoy anon, wherever you may be. 

Request:  Heyyy can u do a Bucky Barnes x reader were they get a fight and the reader hits him on his private parts…Bucky trembles down right there but he stats acting weird (just to scare the reader) he behaves like he turned into the winter soldier mode and chases the reader like a hungry lion. The reader keeps screaming and Bucky can’t hold his laughter, so when he captures her…you know end it up with smuttttttt

Warnings: Cursing, oral sex (reader receiving), metal arm kink

Masterlist


“What the hell did I do?” You and Bucky had just walked through the front door, your back turned to him as you heard it slam shut. 

“You were flirting with him, that’s what!” He stormed off down the hall towards the bedroom, his face red with jealousy and anger. You two had gone to a club and some wasted guy came up to you and started flirting. He was drunk for crying out loud, and you were sober, so you thought nothing bad would happen. You played along with him, flirting back, watching the tipsy man make a fool of himself. 

“He was drunk! I was sober! I wasn’t actually flirting with him, Buck.” You followed him, your feet pounding down the hallway. “I was getting a laugh out of it, come on. You know I’m not that type of person.” Hurt was in your eyes. You loved Bucky, but sometimes he got jealous and you didn’t know whether or not he trusted you. You always wondered if he actually thought you would do that to him, if you would really hurt him that badly. He was pacing around the room, his arms crossed over his chest, silent. When you realized he wasn’t planning on saying anything soon, you moved from your spot against the door frame, and plopped yourself on the edge of the bed. 

“You understand that we’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t talk, right?” The annoyance could be detected in your voice, and still, you got no response. “James Buchanan Barnes, I swear to god, if you don’t say something I’m going to-” 

You were cut off by a pained groan from Bucky. As you were going off on him, you had been flinging your arms around at an attempt to emphasize your point. And by doing so, you accidentally backhanded his crotch as he paced past you. 

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[ Therapy ] • 3

 Therapist!Negan x Reader

A/N: *sharply inhales* HERE WE GO! This is the last part of Therapy. I thought of this idea, and I’m really nervous to post it because I’m not quite sure if it’s what people might expect. Keep in mind there is a huge plot twist, and it does get kind of dark in the end. Oh gosh, I am nervous to post this but I do hope you guys enjoy the chapter! It is intense, and full of angst. xx I am going to be catching up on fics within the next few days, but the next thing I’m posting is Chapter 21 of Why I Love :)  I’ve got one more challenge piece, then I promise I’m pumping out requests. 

Tags: SMUT - TW: attempted sexual assault, suicide, inappropriate doctor/patient relationship, blackmail, angst, stalking ** I am not promising a happy ending please don’t hate me for that lol 

|| Masterlist || Part 2 || 

Originally posted by mypapawinchester

•••

Tick, tock, tick, tock… 

The grandfather clock marked off each passing second, its lonely sound echoing in the quiet foyer. The dim light that hovered above the entrance reflected off the glass panel and painted a soft yellow light on your arm. 

This felt strange

Stepping away from the front door, you were going to follow the path down the narrow hallway until you saw something out of the corner of your eye that caught your attention. 

On the blank wall near the staircase was a single photo hanging all by itself. You shifted your footing towards the stairs, climbing up a few steps up until you found yourself facing the sweet portrait before you. 

Enclosed around the black wooden frame, was a photograph of a younger Negan looking devilishly handsome in a tuxedo. He was clean shaven, sporting a head full of luscious, dark hair while resting his arm over the shoulder of a well-built, moustachioed man. 

Standing next to that man was a woman in a gorgeous wedding dress. The train cascaded down like an avalanche of snow with its ends trailing along the grassy field that tainted the mesmerising white. Her exceptional beauty radiated straight from the photo and nearly knocked the wind out of you. 

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#20 - Kylo Ren

“Tell me you love me”

Warnings: None

Words: 1K +

__________________________________________

You stuck your bare feet in the snow. The crisp air filling your lungs and covering your arms in goosebumps. Running your fingers through your hair, you let out a heavy sigh. It wasn’t long that you were out there, in the brisk weather of the Starkiller Base, alone, that your boyfriend Kylo Ren came looking for you.

You heard the sound of his heavy boots crunching through the snow before you saw his looming, dark figure. He used to frighten you. Make you shudder with the thought of what was beneath his metallic, slitted mask. But now, turning, you reached up. Locking your fingers underneath and clicking it open. It released his face and thick hair from it’s encapturing. 

It was heavy, cold against your fingertips. Kylo helped bring it down. Setting it on the balcony behind you.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I needed some fresh air…”

“You know how I feel about you being-”

“Alone. I know, Kylo. I know. I’m okay.” Looping your arms around his neck, you stood on your tippy toes. Pressing your mouth firmly against his. You could feel him melt against you. His tense muscles relaxing, and you smiled softly against his soft lips.

“I just worry about you….” He murmured, and you nodded. Running your fingertips over the tip of his nose as you looked him. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, making it look like he was blushing. As you met his big, dark chocolate brown eyes, you kissed him again, and he let go of you.

Kylo then noticed that you were barefoot, your toes a dark red in the frost. Nearly yelping, he swooped you into his arms, abruptly swinging you around. “Jesus! You’re barefoot!”

“Kylo-” You giggled a bit, and he rushed you inside. Sitting you down on one of the countertops. Inspecting your feet, he wrapped them in his large hands and breathed on them. Trying to warm you up. But your feet were numb and bruised from standing out there for too long. Frustrated, his eyebrows were stitched together and his lips were pressed into a hard line. “Kylo.” Your voice then became stern. Leaning down, you wrapped his face in your hands, pulling him up.

He had sat on his knees. Moving his hands to your sides, he now sat between your legs.

“Why would you do that?”

“I… I wanted to feel something. I’m done being cooped up here, Kylo.”

His eyebrows parted, his eyebrows filling with emotion. “You want to leave… Don’t you?” His voice then wavered and cracked under the pressure of him not wanting you to leave. You shook your head.

“I’m not going anywhere…” A smile then spread on his lips, and he leaned up. Engulfing you in a long, sweet kiss, his hands cupping your face as yours did his. “Kylo…” You whispered, resting your forehead against his and meeting his eyes. “Tell me you love me.” Silence surrounded and penetrated both of you like a certain chill in the air, a breeze like a ghost’s breath on the back of your neck. Tears burned into your eyes, and you repeated yourself. “Tell me you love me, Kylo.”

Kylo’s lips parted slightly, and he looked down. Pushing him off, you slid away from him and off the counter. Though your feet hurt with each step, you quickened your pace. Turning the corner and running until Kylo was no longer in sight.

-

That night, laying in bed, tears ran down your cheeks as you hugged yourself. Huddling on your side, far away from where Kylo would crawl under the sheets until he would pull you into his arms. Rubbing your eyes, you sniffled. Trying to figure out why he couldn’t say it. You were for sure he did… And now you weren’t sure of anything.

The door opened slowly, revealing Kylo. His helmet already under one arm. Walking in with heavy strides, he kept his gaze down. Not daring to look at you. Tightening your arms around yourself, you listened to him take off his clothes until he was left only in his underwear. Feeling the bed creak under his weight, he hesitated, before reaching over to you. His touch was light, hovering over you for a heartbeat before he moved against you. Pulling you over so that you were facing him, Kylo touched your face with warm fingers. You shut your eyes.

“I love you, Y/N.” You didn’t open your eyes, but instead, your lips quivered with a sharp breath, and you felt Kylo wrap his arms around you. Burying his face in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. “I’m sorry… I love you so much. I… I froze. I’m sorry.”

Nodding, you turned your head, pressing a sloppy kiss on his lips. Noticing the wetness of his cheeks under your thumb. Kylo ran his fingers over your cheek, and you adjusted yourself so that your head pressed against his chest. Listening to his heartbeat. The warmth of his skin radiating onto yours. Your tears dried, and you focused on the feeling of Kylo running his fingers through your hair. Your hands pressing on his chest your legs intertwined with his. You kissed his chest, settling in. You noticed that Kylo fell asleep first, which surprised you when his chest began to rise and fall with heavy, slow breaths and his fingers became heavy against you. The weight of his arms around you pressing you down, soft snores beginning to vibrate in his throat.

The night was quiet, other than the occasional shuffle of the guards outside, or the quick footsteps of Storm Troopers on Parol. Soon enough, it would be early morning, and time for Kylo to leave you for another day as the leader of the Knights of Ren and apprentice to Snoke. But for now, he was here, with you. Yours, and only yours.

Ten-year-old Dorian, hiding under the covers of his bed, a tiny, flickering wisp sitting in his palm. It’s after his bedtime– after midnight, really, but he has to know how the story ends. The light doesn’t reach outside his blanket, and he feels like he’s the only one in the world.

Twenty-year-old Dorian, sitting in the Circle library (it doesn’t matter which Circle) long after dark. He’s missed dinner, but he often does, preferring to sneak illicit snacks into the privacy of the library rather than eat with the other students. A small, steady ball of light hovers over the page of the grimoire he’s reading, casting a pale blue light on spells of reanimation and protection.

Thirty-year-old Dorian (give or take a few months) curled up on Bull’s bed with a wisp tumbling absently over his fingers as he reads aloud from a book of terrible poetry. He snickers at the atrocious rhymes and leans against Bull’s side, warm and content.

The Dullahan’s Ride through Elsewhere

 A short little story based in the fantastic supernatural world created by @charminglyantiquated. Do check out the Faerie shenanigans going down at @elsewhereuniversity; it is amazing.


You hear the thundering hoof beats and shrieking neigh just as the sun is setting. Gan Ceann is riding tonight. You know he is riding for you.

You had been too arrogant, too overconfident to dare remove your golden token this evening, for gold is the only thing that a Dullahan dreads. But she was such a pretty girl, and the time you spent with her certainly felt magical.

It will be the death of you.

You were certain that Elsewhere University would be a place to seek true protection. A clever deal, a well timed act of kindness, a gamble won… the Seelie always protect the ones they favor. You came to seek Their favor. Security that only They can provide against Others like themselves.

No one has ever said why, but in your family, once a generation spanning at least the past three centuries, the Dullahan will ride to claim a soul. Last generation it was your uncle, during holiday. While he slept with his wife. They heard the whinny and sharp metallic clang of the bit in the horse’s teeth too late. Your aunt awoke just in time to hear your uncle’s name called from the severed head. She screamed and Gan Ceann struck her blind in her right eye.

Your uncle’s soul was lost, taken in a hotel room on holiday, for there is no place that is out of the reach of the headless horseman. No gate, no door, no fence, no lock will keep him at bay when he rides.

It could have been one of your cousins now. It could have been your sister, or brother. You came to Elsewhere to stack the deck in your favor, to ensure it wouldn’t be you.

But it is.

Your plan might have worked, but you did not move quickly enough. It was just so nice to finally be away. Away from the daily reminders that the Dullahan still had yet to choose a quarry; reminders to keep your gold coin always safe and ready should you hear the horseman approaching; ongoing, repeating dialogue that reminded you that horrible death would strike your family, and that it was not a matter of “if” but “when.”

Being away from that daily conversation, free to even enjoy the occasional glimpses of some other Others than the one that plagues your family, you chose to dawdle. You thought you would take your time and shop for the best protector. The bargain that would net you the most benefit for the least payment. You are not keen on the stories of students who have hacked away enormous, essential parts of themselves for something, in your opinion, entirely too small, too insignificant. A life is an expensive thing to trade for. You did not wish to live a half life for a little extra insurance. So you waited. Listening. Watching. Learning. Weighing.

But now your time is nearly up.

You still hear him coming, even as your heart pounds in your ears and your straining, panting gasps shudder through the otherwise still twilight. You pause and look about your surroundings frantically, trying to pinpoint the direction the steed’s roaring breaths are coming from. It is the sound of the horse only that you hear, which reminds you that you are still among the living and still have time, however little it may be. You will not hear the voice of Gan Ceann. Not until he calls your true name. Not until he claims your soul.

You catch a glimpse against the deepening blues and purples of the sky: the black silhouette of a rider, holding his head up by its hair to scan ahead while his mount paws at the ground beneath its hooves. The dry grass flares up with each trample, sending orange cinders dancing up into the air. The rider is still too far away, but you imagine the ever moving eyes locking onto yours. In an instant the Dullahan pulls back on the reins, and the jet-black horse rears its head. You don’t stay to watch it resume its menacing gallop. You know the direction he is heading.

You take off again toward the copse at the far end of campus, just beyond the library. It is rumored to have the most activity this late in the day. You need to increase your odds of a meeting. You need to find a member of the Gentry; anyone will do at this point. Any Other you can make a hasty trade with. You grasp at your rucksack and hope what you have will be enough to trade. Enough to barter for your life.

“Gentle Fair Folk, please grant me an audience,” you pray, and repeat this mantra in rhythm with your hurried steps. Once… twice… thrice…

The shimmering glamour around the copse begins to lift, and out of the air directly before you a tiny blue light appears. You hear the tinkling of bells as it bounces in front of you. You skid to a stop just a hair’s breadth away from running into… you aren’t entirely sure. Another tiny bell jingles and you see another dot of blue light zip into being. And then another. And another. You are mesmerized by the dazzling trails they are carving into the deepening darkness, and you realize what they are.

Wisps. Will-o’-the-wisps.

Which is peculiar, even for Elsewhere. Isn’t it rumored that there are no fearie lights at EU? They are conspicuously absent from all the recounts you have ever heard of students being Lost, Taken, or Touched. Maybe this is a Gentry trick. Maybe this is one of the Fair Folk simply taking a more benign form. Maybe these truly are wisps. Maybe you are very lucky.

Or very unlucky.

Regardless… you have your audience.

“Please,” you beg, and drop to your knees to fumble with your bag. “I’ve come to trade. I need The Court’s protection from Gan Ceann, one of the Unseelie. He is coming for me.”

More jingling. You don’t know what they are saying, if they are saying anything to you at all. You remember the iron pins stuck in the lining of your jacket and the salt packets slipped into your socks. Will they help you if you still carry these deterrents? You strip your jacket and toss it away from you, likewise dig out the salt packets and throw them into the bush. The jingling stops and the lights hover. You take it as a good sign. The sounds of the rider’s horse are growing nearer.

You unzip your pouch and dig out a tightly sealed mason jar. “I have sea glass and abalone shells, and pendants of enamel and obsidian. What will you take in exchange for protection from the Dullahan?”

The wisps float before you silently. You begin to feel that the deal is going badly, and you are becoming desperate. At any moment you imagine you will hear your name and you will be dead.

“Please!” you cry, and shake the mason jar in frustration. “I’ll offer you everything I have in exchange for your help! Please!”

The tinkling of the bells resumes, and the tiny Fae line up before you. Tears trickle down your cheeks; you did not realize you were crying.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and get to your feet. You remember to be polite; you must always be polite. You leave your bag and grasp the mason jar tightly as you feel yourself being drawn along a path you cannot see, a path that the wisps are leading you down. You take out your cell phone and flip on its flashlight to help light the ground as you hurry after them.

The glamour lifts before you reach the copse and you know you are now in the realm of The Golden Ones. A too green marshland stretches before you, where the leaves are illuminated from within and the light along their sharp edges seems to march like a scrolling marquee. The land is dotted here and there with old, gnarled trees that have human faces, and nymphs and water sprites dance among the foliage and shallow waterways. A white stag ambles by in the distance.

The scenery seems lovely, but you wonder how being here will protect you from the Dullahan. You expected to be brought to a castle, or a fortress, or some other place with defenses. Maybe just being beyond the veil of the glamour will be enough, you think. No man-made structures can stop a Dullahan; maybe the thin glamour will prove stronger. Or, at least, strong enough.

It doesn’t.

A sudden gust of hot air on your neck makes you shriek, and you whirl around to see the Dullahan and his black horse towering over you. The horse’s nostrils flare and his breath comes out in a burst of fire. Gan Ceann still holds his head aloft by the hair, and its ever moving dark eyes lock with yours. You fall back into the waters of the marsh as the soft, sunken, moldy cheese colored face splits into a horrifying toothy grin, impossibly wide, so wide it literally stretches ear to ear. The mouth opens, and you know the next breath will be your name and your soul will leave you. You do the only thing you can think to do in the split second you have left.

You throw your cell phone at the horse’s feet.

The back flies off and the screen shatters into a hundred shards. The horse rears up and jumps back. The Dullahan head screams. There is no name in his screeching cry. He yanks the reins around, and turns to ride out of the Seelie marshland the way he came.

He is gone. You are alive.

Your breaths come in ragged sobs. At first, you are confused. Relieved, but confused. As you reach for the remnants of your phone, you remember something that you never should have forgotten. If your phone was functional you would query the Internet. “How much gold is in a smartphone?” you would ask. “Enough” is the answer. There is enough.

You remember the wisps and dump your mason jar of treasures out onto the soggy marsh bank beside you to show your gratitude. They surround you while you stand and you thank Them again for their protection.

They are not dancing. They are not jingling, or tinkling, but They are making some airy sort of noise. It bubbles and echoes around you until you realize with horror that it is the tittering sound of laughter.

Your feet are rooted in the marsh. You do not feel them anymore, and do not see the way back to the campus. The luminescence of the marsh has become black, and in the dark all you see are the lights of the wisps and the glowing amber eyes of the trees. The trees with the human faces.

You will be favored here. You will live, and the Dullahan will never claim your soul.

Such is the price of Their protection.

The Labyrinth Chapter 14

Genre: Gang AU/ High School AU
Pairing: Reader/Jimin
Length: 2.4k
Summary: Finding an injured boy collapsing in front of your house, you decide to help him, only to find out he’s associated with some underground business. After that fateful night, you surprisingly find him in the new class you had just transferred into.
A/N: Sorry for taking forever to update this series TT^TT I promise I’ll be focusing on this for the next few weeks!

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12 || Jin Trailer || Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Originally posted by bts-we-are-bulletproof

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Puking Rainbows

Do I know self-restraint? Nooooooooooooooooo…

based on this prompt

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Puking Rainbows

[Fandom]:Voltron: Legendary Defender

[Rating]: Teen Audience/ Gen

[Genre]: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Friendship, Team as Family

[Word count]:  4.700

[Warning]: illness, fever, vomiting, diarrhea, poisoning (metal)

[Status]: oneshot/ completed

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Lance spit out the tar-black sludge, retching to no avail when he still felt some of it slide down his throat. He hacked and spit but the vile taste of it burned on his tongue and settled heavily in his stomach.

He quickly gave up, deciding it was less urgent than getting Keith out of Red. Out of the lake he had crashed in after that Ion canon hit him point on, the Lion’s eyes becoming dull and grey as she shut down and hurtled down towards the planet below.

He had followed, steering the pod to the best of his abilities but the hard reality was that these stupid machines were not built for space battles, were not built to withstand the fire of five fighters, were not meant to work on only one fully functional engine.

Even now, Lance was kind of is surprised that he managed to crash the pod in such a manner that he did not end up as bloodied scrap metal.

He readjusted his helmet, fumbling with the flips coated with slimy liquid and sealing the damn thing shut. It should have been the first thing to do upon wedging through the jammed pod doors but his mind had been elsewhere.

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8

Flatwoods monster

In West Virginia folklore, the Flatwoods Monster, also known as the Braxton County Monster or the Phantom of Flatwoods, is an entity reported to have been sighted in the town of Flatwoods in Braxton County, West Virginia, United States, on September 12, 1952. Stories of the creature are an example of a purported close encounter of the third kind.

Flatwoods Monster


Sub grouping: unidentified extraterrestrial

Other name(s):
Braxton County Monster
Phantom of Flatwoods

Country: United States

Region: Flatwoods, West Virginia

Appearance

Location of Flatwoods, West Virginia

Various descriptions of the entity exist. Most describe it as being at least 7 feet (2.1 m) tall, with a black body and a dark, glowing face. Witnesses described the creature’s head as elongated, shaped like a sideways diamond, and as having non-human eyes; a large, circular cowling appeared behind the head. The creature’s body was described as “inhumanly-shaped” and clad in a dark, pleated skirt-like exoskeleton, later described as a shadow.

Some accounts record that the creature appeared to have “no visible arms” due to its incredible speed, while others reported long, stringy arms, protruding from the front of its body, with long, claw-like fingers.The creature is referred to as the “Lizard Monster” on the March 10, 2010, episode of MonsterQuest. Some witnesses reported seeing a large, pulsating red ball of light that hovered above or rested on the ground. Ufologists believe that it may have been a powered craft that the entity had piloted.

Chronology

A newspaper clipping of the story of the Flatwoods Monster

At 7:15 p.m. on September 12, 1952, two brothers, Edward and Fred May, and their friend Tommy Hyer (ages 13, 12, and 10 respectively) witnessed a bright object cross the sky, coming to rest on land belonging to local farmer G. Bailey Fisher. Upon witnessing the object, the boys went to the home of the May brothers’ mother, Kathleen May, where they told the story of having seen a UFO crash land in the hills. From there, Mrs. May, accompanied by the three boys, local children Neil Nunley and Ronnie Shaver , and 17-year-old West Virginia National Guardsman Eugene Lemon, traveled to the Fisher farm in an effort to locate whatever it was that the boys had seen.

Lemon’s dog ran ahead out of sight and suddenly began barking, and moments later ran back to the group with its tail between its legs. After traveling about 0.25 miles (402 m) the group reached the top of a hill, where they reportedly saw a large pulsating “ball of fire” about 50 feet (15 m) to their right. They also detected a pungent mist that made their eyes and noses burn. Lemon then noticed two small lights over to the left of the object, underneath a nearby oaktree and directed his flashlight towards them, revealing the creature, which May reported as bounding towards them. Other sources[which?]describe it as emitting a shrill hissing noise before gliding towards them, changing direction and then heading off towards the red light. At this point the group fled in panic.

Upon returning home, Mrs. May contacted local Sheriff Robert Carr and Mr. A. Lee Stewert, co-owner of the Braxton Democrat, a local newspaper. Stewert conducted a number of interviews and returned to the site with Lemon later that night, where he reported that “there was a sickening, burnt, metallic odor still prevailing”. Sheriff Carr and his deputy Burnell Long searched the area separately, but reported finding no trace of the encounter other than the smell. Early the next morning, Stewert visited the site of the encounter for a second time and discovered two elongated tracks in the mud, as well as traces of a thick black liquid. He immediately reported them as being possible signs of a saucerlanding, based on the premise that the area had not been subjected to vehicle traffic for at least a year. It was later revealed that the tracks were likely to have been those of a 1942 Chevrolet pickup truck driven by local Max Lockard, who had gone to the site to look for the creature some hours prior to Stewert’s discovery.

After the event, Mr. William and Donna Smith, investigators associated with Civilian Saucer Investigation, LA, obtained a number of accounts from witnesses who claimed to have experienced a similar or related phenomena. These accounts included the story of a mother and her 21-year-old-daughter, who claimed to have encountered a creature with the same appearance and odor a week prior to the September 12 incident. The encounter reportedly affected the daughter so badly that she was confined to Clarksburg Hospital for three weeks. They also gathered a statement from the mother of Eugene Lemon, in which she said that, at the approximate time of the crash, her house had been violently shaken and her radio had cut out for 45 minutes, and a report from the director of the local Board of Education in which he claimed to have seen a flying saucer taking off at 6:30 a.m. on September 13 (the morning after the creature was sighted).

Sickness

After encountering the creature, several members of the September 12 group reported suffering from similar symptoms, which persisted for some time and which they attributed to having been exposed to the mist emitted by the creature. The symptoms included irritation of the nose and swelling of the throat. Lemon suffered from vomiting and convulsions throughout the night, and had difficulties with his throat for several weeks afterward. A doctor who treated several of the witnesses is reported to have described their symptoms as being similar to victims of mustard gas, though such symptoms are also commonly found in sufferers of hysteria, which can be brought on by exposure to a traumatic or shocking event.

Conventional explanations

After examining the case 48 years after the event, Joe Nickell of the paranormal investigation group Committee for Skeptical Inquiry (CSI), then known as CSICOP, concluded in 2000 that the bright light in the sky reported by the witnesses on September 12 was most likely a meteor, that the pulsating red light was likely an aircraft navigation/hazard beacon, and that the creature described by witnesses closely resembled an owl. Nickell claimed that the latter two of which were distorted by the heightened state of anxiety felt by the witnesses after having observed the former. Nickell’s conclusions are shared by a number of other investigators, including those of the Air Force. Skeptics have also proposed misidentified owl sightings as explanations for the Mothman and the Kelly-Hopkinsville encounter .

The night of the September 12 sighting, a meteor had been observed across three states—Maryland, Pennsylvania and West Virginia—and had been mistakenly reported as a flaming aircraft crashing into the side of a hill at Elk River, approximately 11 miles (18 km) southwest of the location of the Flatwoods sighting.[citation needed] Three flashing red aircraft beacons were also visible from the area of the sightings,[citation needed] possibly accounting for the pulsating red light seen by the witnesses and for the red tint on the face of the creature.

A barn owl, seen with “claw-like hands” and a face shaped “like the Ace of Spades”

Nickell concluded that the shape, movement, and sounds reported by witnesses were also consistent with the silhouette, flight pattern, and call of a startled barn owl perched on a tree limb, leading researchers to conclude that foliage beneath the owl may have created the illusion of the lower portions of the creature (described as being a pleated green skirt). Researchers also concluded that the witnesses’ inability to agree on whether the creature had arms, combined with Kathleen May’s report of it having “small, claw-like hands” which “extended in front of it”, also matched the description of a barn owl with its talons gripping a tree branch.

Alternative explanations included those put forward by the local media: that the September 12 group had witnessed the impact of a meteor which resulted in a man-shaped cloud of vapor, and those of Kathleen May and her sons (recorded some time after the incident); that they had seen some kind of covert government aircraft.

References in popular culture

Flatwoods held an annual festival to celebrate the “Green Monster”. The three-day festival included a weekend of live music, the Green Monster museum and trips to the site of the original sighting. The last year the festival took place was in 2006.

The final boss at the end of the videogame Amagon

A creature resembling the description of the Flatwoods monster appears as the final boss of the 1988 NES videogame Amagon and as the stage 02 boss of the videogame Space Harrier II. Other videogame aliens with a similar appearance are “Gimme” in the Wii U game The Wonderful 101, the aliens referred to as “Them” in The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask, the Space World boss in Tumblepop, the Hayokonton in Wild Arms, enemies in the Las Vegas level of Ninja Baseball Batman. The player is capable of conjuring a version of the monster in the Scribblenauts game series.

The Flatwoods Monster appears in the “Mystery” apartment look in Tomodachi Life. The monster is shown in chapter 218 of the anime Shinryaku! Ika Musume, where one character uses its picture to scare another.

The Flatwoods Monster is the subject of Argyle Goolsby and the Roving Midnight’s song “The Being”.

The monster inspired the Braxton County CVB to create a series of oversized chairs in the likeness of the monster placed in Braxton County. The Braxton County Monster Chair project started in 2014.

Source"Wikapedia.com

Father's Day

This one shot was written for @glitzthings by request (Sorry it’s late my friend!). I hope this is okay, I’ve been having the worst case of writer’s block lately.

oooOOOooo

Vegeta folds his arms tighter around his chest, sinking further down into his seat. An impatient groan escapes his lips, as soft as a sleeping breath, but still earns him a scowl from his wife. Her sapphire eyes burn the color of gasoline fire and say all of the words hidden behind the confines of her lips, making him turn his head away. He gets it; she doesn’t need to look at him like that anymore. He clicks his teeth loud enough to tell her so, but he can still feel her heated stare  shredding the skin on his neck.  He ignores her, and instead decides to make a mental list of the worst moments in his life.

1) Frieza. Enough said.
2) Kakarot. A tolerable ending, but their beginnings will always stain his tongue with acid.
3) Any combination of 1 and 2.
4) What he’s doing at this exact moment.

He feels a palm on his thigh and he whips his head back to his left, expecting to meet the cooling eyes of his hot tempered spouse. She’s gotten bored of his tantrum apparently as her eyes are glued to the stage, smiling widely with excitement. Instead, he catches the stare of his son, who’s sporting the same goofy grin as his mother, his  lavender hair hanging loosely in his eyes.

“Papa,” he tries to whisper, his voice cracking with manhood, “She’s coming on now!”

Vegeta nods, thankful that  Trunks can read him so easily. Bulma expects him to be dutiful and pay attention, but Vegeta knows the boy is just as bored as he is. In fact, if a certain doppelganger of Kakarot were not keeping him company right now, he is sure that Trunks would be playing away on the noisy game he likes to carry around. Or even better, causing some sort of mischief.

“Do it like we practiced, Bra!” Bulma whispers, raising her fists with anticipation. Vegeta cocks an eyebrow to this, wondering exactly the woman has planned. If it’s anything like he’s become used to for the past decade and some change, he knows it’ll be interesting. Chaotic, undoubtedly, but interesting.

Vegeta turns his attention to the stage finally, peering over the heads of rows of parents and children alike. No matter how much it pains him to admit it, he’s short. And short people, no matter how powerful, struggle to see past taller men who refuse to take better seats. Especially when Bulma insists they sit towards the back so Bra doesn’t get nervous when she sees them. He grunts louder this time, even letting a curse slip from his dirty lips. Several parents turn around in their seats and glare at him. Vegeta lets out a warning growl that’s similar to a bark and they change their minds in their judgment. Their faces go whiter than his tense knuckles and they turn around with no further complaints. He’s earned himself a heavy slap on the knee from Bulma. He grins wickedly as he sits with no regret. He never tires of putting inferiors in their places.

A miniature Bulma walks across the stage past her peers, her chin aimed pointedly high in the air. She oozes confidences and the children don’t like it. Vegeta has heard Bra complain about then to Bulma at bed time before. “They’re so boring, Mama,” she says in her five year old sleepy voice, “And they don’t want to talk to me.” Bulma asks her how she feels about it. Bra pulls the thick blanket to her chest and says truthfully, “I can beat them up so I don’t care.”

Vegeta has never been more proud.

Her actions prove her words true as she glides to the microphone, earning attentive eyes from the audience and her peers. A bright yellow banner hangs over her head, Father’s Day Assembly sprawled across the fabric. An arrogant smile —his arrogant smile— steals her face as she looks over the crowd. Her eyes land on his and she smiles and waves, a look of sincere glee coming over her features. He feels  the immediate embarrassment, but puts up two fingers in this air as a salute so she won’t cry about it later. He ignores Bulma’s yelping about how ‘cute’ the situation is.

“My name is Bra Briefs,” she says into the microphone, a little too low for Vegeta’s tastes, and he wants to tell her to talk louder, “And this is the story of my papa, Vegeta.” She extends a tiny palm in his direction. The stage lights hover over him and he grits his teeth. The parents don’t bother to turn and look, having already been bitten with his venom. He sits with patience until the light is back on Bra and then finally grumbles under his breath.

“In order to tell this story, my friends said they would help me out. So I hope you enjoy this play! Me and my Mama worked real hard on it!” She turns to the curtain, the red of her ponytail ribbon matching the fabric perfectly. “Guys?”

Vegeta is interested now, but the curiosity turns to vile as he watches Kakarot, Gohan, Piccolo and Krillin take center stage. They all seem embarrassed to be here, especially Piccolo. He hears a few parents wonder if he’s feeling sick. Vegeta questions what sort of manipulation Bulma’s used to get them to be here.
“My Papa was a proud prince,” she starts, and an exact mirror of Vegeta walks smoothly on stage. He does a double take at first. Tarble? He’s about to question it further until he spots the tail and how wrong it is. It’s pink and curly where it should be long and brown. Of course Oolong would agree; he’s caught the Sunday dinner staring at his wife’s breasts a little too long on multiple occasions.

“He was the strongest prince of everyone in his kingdom, and no one could beat him, not even giant refrigerators and freezers!” Oolong-Vegeta flexes his muscles in a dramatic fashion, while kicking over a fridge prop, cleverly painter with specks of purple. This elicits a laugh out of Vegeta, but he keeps it low so Bulma doesn’t hear.

“One day, my Papa got too strong and he got bored. So he flew to Earth to rule over the people there.” Oolong is pretending to fly in a circle, getting closer to the four men to Bra’s right. “And when he came, a group of men who were…umm…Mama, what’s that word again?”

“Naïve!” Bulma yells, and Bra smiles widely.

“That’s right, naïve. The group of men were naïve and thought they could beat him up.” A flash of anger rolls over Piccolo’s face. Vegeta hopes Bulma’s brought a camera.

“Aarrghh, I am Vegeta! Prince of all Saiyans! And I will whoop your butt!” Oolong is a bad actor and his voice is too squeaky to rival Vegeta’s. And  most important, Vegeta thinks, is that he would never use the words, “Whoop your butt.” Obliterate you? Sure. Send you the fiery pits of hell? Absolutely. But never, “I’m going to whoop your butt.” It sounds like a parent chastising a child, but he listens on anyways.

“No, Vegeta, we can’t let you do that,” Gohan is trying to act, but he’s too serious about it, “So please leave here at once.”

“I’m going to whoop your butt first, Goha—err — stranger!” Oolong produces some sort of contraption and confetti sprays in Gohan’s direction. Gohan dramatically falls to the stage, claiming he has been defeated. Goku starts laughing wildly, and Vegeta declares he will kill the man if he messes up his daughter’s stage play.

“One by one, the men come to fight my papa, but they are too weak and pathetic so they die,” Bra says this with such pride that Vegeta’s heart swells. Piccolo and Krillin fall to the ground, yelling  how strong Vegeta is. He turns to look at Bulma briefly, unable to believe that she would agree to help Bra with this inaccurate play.  She shrugs, as if indicating that this was all Bra’s idea.

“But one man didn’t seem to get it, so Papa had to put him in his place.” Goku grins and crouches down into his fighting stance, looking too seriously at Oolong-Vegeta. The buffoon. He can’t even pretend to fight without getting a hard on. Vegeta scoffs at his pathetic mannerisms.

“Even though you’re so much stronger than me, and I could never  ever beat you, I will fight you Vegeta!” Strangely enough, Goku isn’t bad at reciting his lines. Vegeta swallows away the compliment, mildly upset it penetrated his mind in the first place.

“Bring it on, Goku! “ Oolng pretends to fight Goku, once again disappointing Vegeta with his misrepresentation. He watches the two prance about and shoot fake lasers at each other. Goku is losing on purpose, and Vegeta relishes in how satisfactory the feeling is.

“After a long battle, the man does a horrible, miserable death—“

“Oh no! I’m dying so miserably!”

“—Ending any defiance against my Papa. So he became the prince, no, the king of Earth. And he even found his queen in the audience!” Another person emerges from the curtain, wearing one of Bulma’s old dresses with a cheap blue wig on their head. Its Yamcha, Vegeta notices with disdain, and he’s tried a little too hard to dress like Bulma. She’s having several fits of laughter at his side, unable to even look at the stage anymore. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. Bulma is a devious genius.

“Oh Vegeta,” Yamcha has his hands resting at his cheek and his voice is higher in range, “Even though I’ve got a totally awesome boyfriend who’s the best thing that ever happened to me, I just can’t resist the Prince of Darkness!”

“Hmph,” Oolong-Vegeta folds his arms and closes his eyes, “Your boyfriend sucks. Drop that zero and get with a real man, pathetic woman.” Finally Oolong has gotten Vegeta correctly.

Yamcha runs daintly towards Oolong and they hug, although Yamcha has to bend down to embrace him. Vegeta grits his teeth and wants to yell out that he’s not  that short, and how the only time Bulma’s bending over is in the bedroom, but their children are present. He’s sure he’s scarred then enough already.

“And then my Mama and Papa got married and had me and brother Trunks! He’s still the strongest man on the planet,” he watches as her eyebrows mesh together in an angry fashion and her entire mood changes, “And if any of you ever disagree with me or him, he’ll make you all die a miserable and scary de—“

“Okay and thank you Ms. Briefs!” The principal of Bra’s school intervenes, her face a cloudy mix of disbelief and shock. She tries to laugh off her nerves by complimenting Bra on her creative imagination. The adults in the audience have covered their children’s ears and look toward the stage in fright. Vegeta lets out a heartfelt laugh, focusing unwanted attention on him. He’s clutching his belly as he bends over, not remembering the last time he was this entertained. The Briefs women have definitely outdone themselves.

Bra doesn’t bother to sit with her peers, instead walking off stage and heading directly to them. Her face is beaming as she approaches, running straight to Vegeta and hopping in his lap. She throws her arms around his neck and he lets her, feeling like she’s more than earned public affection.

“How did I do Papa?” she whispers in his ear, tossing a thumbs up to Trunks, Goten and Bulma.

Vegeta smiles and stands, seeing no reason to stay for the rest of this catastrophe. He gets it; these children like their inadequate fathers and their boring jobs of teachers and salesmen. But had their fathers ever saved the world? Ever brought them back to life? No? Then he has no interest in praising them.

He cradles Bra in his arms as they exit, and leans in close to her ear so that only she can hear. “It’s the best Father’s Day gift I’ve ever received,” he says and means it. “Just don’t tell your brother.”

I haven’t edited this, so please forgive any errors

also I may or may not have written this while I’m drunk soooo

Okay, but picture this. Magnus and Alec are getting married. They decide to hold the ceremony at the Institute, in the same hall where Alec almost married Lydia, as a final “fuck you” to the remaining members of the Clave who still don’t support their relationship. Even though it might be a bit more stiff than either of them had hoped when they pictured their wedding, the symbolism behind the moment outweighs any awkwardness. 

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