i'm not exactly pleased with how it came out but idk :(

Kinda Hot

Summary: When you accidentally bump into your brothers at a strip club, you didn’t expect to be able to enjoy yourself with their presence. You also did not expect to end up going home with your favourite act. 

Words: 4.7k

Pairing: Stripper!Ruby x Sister!Reader

Warnings: (probably very terrible) f/f smut, mild alcohol mentions, my inability to obey the rules making this not entirely au

A/N: so i decided to take part in @teamfreewill-imagine​’s birthday celebrations and spat something up randomly… it’s ruby so not many people will read it but it’s also not specified which ruby (i think i managed to refrain from hair and eye colour) so you can have all the fun you want with it. hope it’s ok, idk i kinda miss writing and this was really fun. oh, and i apologise for the pathetic attempt at writing smut…

Keep reading

Thanks, Cas

Pairing: Sam x reader

Warnings: swearing, smut, the usual

Requested: yeperoni, on wattpad

Word Count: 2325

Tags: @winter-in-wakanda

Originally posted by demondetoxmanual

“You ready?” Sam asks, knocking on the bathroom door where you’ve locked yourself away. It’s your birthday, and Sam is taking you out to a fancy dinner for a night of pretending to be normal people who don’t hunt monsters for a living. You went to a good bit of trouble to get dolled up; hair done, heels on. Taking a deep breath and smoothing out your tight black dress, you smile at yourself in the mirror.

“I am. But are you ready to see me?” You tease Sam, and he chuckles.

“Yes, I think I-” Sam’s words cut out as soon as you open the door. His eyes rake up and down, from your heels to your curls and back again.

“Told you to get ready,” you smile, and Sam licks his lips, running his hands over his suit jacket. He clears his throat, finally making eye contact.

“This is going to be fun,” he says mischievously, and you shoot him a questioning look. He quickly shakes it off, clearing his throat again.

“Shall we go?”


“Shoot, that soup looks good too. Sam, what are you ordering? Can we split… hey, are you listening?” You wave a hand in front of your boyfriend’s face from across the table, and you can see his concentration melt away as he stops staring at your water glass and returns to reality. You give him a confused smile, unable to figure out what’s been making him act weird all night.

“Of course I’m listening. I- wait, what was the question?” he asks, and you laugh, shaking your head. Sometimes you think you’re dating the smartest man alive while simultaneously dating the dumbest dork alive.

“Sam, are you sure you’re you alright?” You inquire, setting down your menu and leaning forward on your elbows. He nods quickly, licking his lips and diving into his menu.

“Want to split some soup?” He asks innocently, and you smile broadly. He may be a dork, but boy do you love Sam. You two have the same thoughts at separate times.

“Sam, I tried to ask you that exact question about sixty seconds ago,” you tell him, laughing lightly as a blush creeps up on his cheeks.

“Not how this was supposed to go, Cas,” you hear Sam mutter under his breath, clearly frustrated, and you feel more confused than ever. What the hell?

“Okay, look, I know something is- oh-h, ah, S-Sam,” you suddenly stutter. Your accusation was interrupted by an absolutely bizarre feeling between your legs. You clamp a hand over your mouth, because although it’s not a particularly strong feeling, you can’t imagine what the source is, which freaks you out.

You look up at him, panicked, and feel your heart rate pick up at his expression. He’s smirking triumphantly. Your brows furrow, and you pull away your hand, opening your mouth to ask him what the hell is happening. Instead of words, all that escapes is a shaky sigh of pleasure as the feeling gets stronger. Fucking hell, it’s like Sam’s touching you.

“Enjoying yourself, baby?” He taunts, and with that, you know that somehow, he is touching you. Just.. without actually touching you. You glare, mouth sealed shut as you push your thighs together just as tight.

“I wanted to give you something special for your birthday, baby,” Sam says, and you grip onto the tablecloth desperately as the feeling takes over your clit.

“And so Cas lent me some of his grace. Turns out, he knows some fun angel secrets. Pretty powerful, isn’t it? Feeling me touch you with my mind?” he explains, outwardly loving this. You, however, feel like everyone’s staring at you try not to get any wetter than you already are. No way you’re coming in the middle of a fancy restaurant.

“Sam, stop,” you say through gritted teeth, looking around warily. Surprisingly, he does as you say, the sensation disappearing. You feel a little cold and left out in the wake of it, but try not to show your disappointment. This is what you wanted, right?

“Sure thing, baby. So, soup?” He asks cheerily, taking a sip of his water. You want to pull your hair out, but go along with it. Maybe it’s best to just pretend nothing ever happened.



“And can I get you two any desserts?” the perky waiter asks, and you smile at Sam, hoping he’ll let you get some obnoxiously chocolatey dessert. He nods slightly, and you brighten up.

“Yes, we’ll ha-aa- oh, uh,” you’re taken aback by the sudden pleasure between your legs. This time, Sam is going all out, and you swear you can feel his fingers pumping inside you even though you’re staring at them resting on the table in front of you.

“Are you alright?” the waiter questions, looking lost. You glare at Sam, mentally begging him to either let up or cover for you.

“Oh, she’s fine. We’ll have the chocolate mousse, please,” Sam brushes you off, and although the waiter still looks wary, he writes down your order and hurries away nonetheless. Meanwhile, the tension in you is building as Sam changes his speed constantly, switching from faster than you thought possible to tortuously slow.

“Are you alright?” Sam feigns concern, and you swear if you weren’t so desperate to kiss him, you’d murder him. You’re about to verbalize that when, of course, Sam puts pressure on your clit, sticking with the faster pace.

“Ah, fuck, oh, fuck you, Sam,” you whisper, clenching your hands into fists. You want nothing more than to throw your head back and enjoy the feeling, but the chatter all around you reminds you that you’re entirely in the open.

“Fuck me? Well, actually, I was kind of hoping you would do just that,” Sam teases, lowering his voice so no one overhears. You want to scream his name; he’s going so fast and so hard on you that you can barely breathe.

“S-Sam,” you whimper again, looking at him with pleading eyes. You aren’t sure what you’re begging for - an end to the torture or an orgasm - but at this point, you aren’t sure it matters.

“Are you close, baby? Are you about to cum in front of all these rich, elegant people? Are you going to cream in your panties and fancy black dress? Hm?” Sam leans forward, and hearing him whispering dirty words makes you feel even hotter, if that’s possible.

“Sam, oh god yes,” you try to stay quiet, but simply can’t. You lean forward, one forearm resting on the table, head hanging low. Sam is actually going to make you cum in a crowded restaurant.

“One chocolate mousse- uh, hey, are you sure you’re okay?” The waiter approaches, and you snap your head up as Sam once again takes away your pleasure in an instant. Your pussy aches in complaint, but you force a smile as the chocolate mousse is placed in front of you.

“Oh, I’m just fine. Could we get the check now, please?” You say, giving Sam a pointed look. He’s got a mischievous glint in his eye as he pretends to be confused.

“Don’t you want to eat our mousse, baby?” Sam raises his eyebrows, knowing full well you’re throbbing for him.

“We’ll eat it as the check comes,” you promise, and the waiter gives you both another weird look as he turns to get the check as you asked. Once his back is turned, you drop the smile and glare at Sam.

“There’s something fucking wrong with you,” you hiss through gritted teeth, but Sam just grins, picking up his spoon and digging into the dessert.

“Want more, is that it?” Sam taunts around a mouthful of chocolate, and your grip on your spoon tightens so much you feel you might bend the metal.

“I swear to god, if you use that mojo on me one more time while we’re sitting here, you will never again get to have sex with me,” you threaten, dead serious. Sam drains of a little color, nodding in defeat as he eats some more. You sigh, exasperated.

When the waiter finally arrives with your check, you’re more than a little relieved that Sam isn’t messing with you as you talk. You hastily pay, and don’t hesitate a second to get up and start walking out. You weave past other diners and feel as if they all know how on edge you are. Sam follows behind you, trotting along and outwardly showing his rejection. You aren’t sure why exactly he’s being so mopey and dramatic, but you don’t have time to care. You need him alone, now.

The minute you’re in the parking lot, you just about fall to your knees. Sam has started up again, and your knees are going weak, making you wobbly on your heels. Sam strolls up behind you, letting you lean on him for support as you hold in moans. He’s going slow again, nice and easy.

“Sam, oh, fuck, oh, I’m going to kill you, I swear. I said… fuck… no more,” you say, blissed out with your eyes closed and head leaning back. You can feel his breath tickle your neck as he laughs.

“Oh yes, you sound very scary. But your rules were not while we were sitting there. I’m entirely in bounds,” he teases as he nudges you forward. With his help, you stumble your way to the impala, ankles twisting in your heels every other step as Sam keeps the hits coming. He opens the door to the backseat and helps you lie down in it. You grab his jacket lapels in your fists and pull him down on top of you. It’s a bit ridiculous with his height, but that’s not your concern right now.

Still gripping his jacket, you pull Sam’s mouth to yours, kissing him passionately. He laughs a little at first, but melts into it with you, one hand cupping the side of your face as his hair tickles your cheek. Your tongue slides over his, and you’re moaning freely into his mouth as he keeps slowly building up speed.

“I want to really feel you inside me, Sam, no more teasing,” you whisper, and Sam groans. He nods, sitting up and closing the car door behind him. The sensations are subsiding, but you don’t mind, knowing you’re about to get the real thing. Sam reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom, and you laugh a little.

“You came prepared, didn’t you?” you joke, and Sam laughs with you. Not wasting any time, you undo his pants eagerly. You let him put the condom on as you hike up your dress and shimmy out of your soaked panties. Sam realizes what you’re doing only when you’re nearly done, and pouts.

“Hey, I wanted to do that,” he whines, having finished putting the condom on his hard length. You try not to get distracted by it and roll your eyes at Sam.

“You’ve had more than your fair share of fun with teasing me, Sam. I’m ready,” you tell him, and he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again. He lines up with your entrance, then pauses, looking down.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs upon seeing how wet you are. He got you so close to coming that your arousal is literally dripping, and Sam licks his lips at the sight. You sigh impatiently, not wanting to wait a second longer. So you grab his lower back and push him into you without hesitation. It’s a little sloppy and it startles Sam, but the sweet relief is enough to make you moan nonetheless.

“Woah, eager, are we?” Sam says as he starts to thrust in and out against your slick walls. You hum in pleasure, gripping him tighter and pulling him closer. The fact that you’re both still nearly fully clothed doesn’t phase either of you, hands still roaming.

“Shut up and fuck me,” you instruct, and Sam kisses your ear, making you smile.

“I think we can manage that,” he replies, picking up momentum. Soon enough, he’s slamming into you hard enough to rock the car and you’re both moaning and sweating like crazy. His hair is swinging in your face, and your nails claw at his back through his jacket and shirt.

After a full night of teasing, you reach the edge of your orgasm quicker than ever. You try to tell Sam you’re close, but all that comes out is more moans. He seems to get the idea anyways, reaching a hand down to rub circles on your clit.

“Oh, hell yes,” Sam mutters as you reach your high. Your walls clench around him, your back arches into his chest, and you curl your toes in pleasure. You can hardly breathe, and feel Sam fill up the condom as you come down. He keeps thrusting through both of your orgasms erratically, losing control of his rhythm as he comes.

When you’re both done, both panting heavily, Sam collapses on top of you. You let out an ‘oof’ along with strangled laughter, and Sam giggles. Picking himself up again, he smiles down at you.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you. You hold his jaw as you return the sweet kiss, reveling in the afterglow.

“You know that you’re going to pay for what you did tonight, right?” you say between kisses, pulling back and making him pause. Sam closes his eyes, sighs, and nods.

“I know.”

“Don’t look so sad. You’ll love my punishment,” you whisper the last part against his ear, and Sam gets that devilish smirk back on his face. He leans in to kiss you some more, but you stop him again. Hand on his chest, you look up to the sky - well, the car’s ceiling. He follows your gaze, and you smile widely.

“Dear Cas, please accept my many, many, many thanks. Amen.”


A/N: Okay so, I can’t remember who requested this. So here ya go, some Connor fluff!!!!!!! I personally didn’t like this, but I’m posting because a few friends said it’s good. Thing is, I haven’t written in a long LONG time - well, not in english -, so I fear my writing might be a bit rusty and the style might differ from the first half of the fic. Plus, I want to say that this fic is silly. Very silly. Anyways, as I said prior, our next boy might be JayJay aka Jacob. There’s a request for Altaïr and La Volpe regarding this AU; also one for the name of your soulmate written on your wrist. I might do this one with either Arno or Ezio? I’m kinda leaning more towards Arno tbh *Arno sucker*

Special thanks to @miss-t0mboy for being so lovely as to offering herself as my beta reader!

Your name: submit What is this?

You idly watched the market, mostly sailors carrying crates moving hurriedly in front of your family stand, sighing in defeat. There were people, yes; but not even near to the most busy hours. It was early, way too early to be on your feet — but your dad explained, more than once, that today was the day scheduled for mercantile ships to come back to the Boston harbor and unload whatever it was that they carried. It was a busy day, a day for trades, you kept reminding yourself…

But what you didn’t understand was the necessity your dad felt to be the first to arrive at the market. “The early bird catches the worm”, your mother had said.

Yeah, sure. But what if the bird was so early the worms weren’t even up yet?

You stifled a yawn, placing more apples on the wooden stand, hoping to catch everybody’s attention — not because your family stand was one of the three or four within working hours, but because the quality of your products had to stand out. Your mother talked in a chirpy voice, luring customers in as the morning carried on rather slowly. You smiled dreamily, eyeing the sailors curiously when they passed by.

You were anticipating. Your mark itched every time you thought about it, about the possibility of meeting your soulmate. Most of your friends had found their partners — even Catelyn, that unbearable girl with the upturned nose to everything and everyone around her. Was destiny playing with you? You had heard tales about others who hadn’t been able to find their soul mates, or missed the chance… what if you were to become one of them?

Sighing, you thought it was just foolish. There was no you way you weren’t going to notice it. Those words had long found a place in your mind, marking your heart and refused to leave, even late into the night when you couldn’t sleep; despite their… oddness.

“Sweetheart” your dad called for you, interrupting your thoughts, voice slightly out of breath “can you help me with these?” he pointed to the crates still inside the battered wooden cart.

Your dad was an easy man to smile to — so you did, sighing softly afterwards. “Right away.”

You went towards the cart, groaning in pain as your dad passed you a wooden crate filled to the brim with carrots. God, he was giving you the carrots! “I feel like you always give me the heaviest ones, father” you joked, turning around to fill the stand once more.

“You know me so well, Y/N” he said humorously at you.

You walked awkwardly towards the main street — it’d be easier to fill the stand from there —, legs wobbly and eyes unable to see much more than carrots and the top of people’s heads. You groaned under the weight of it and right before you reached the front stand a sailor passed by you, pushing your shoulder rather briskly to make way — and that was enough to make you lose balance.

Not wanting to fall down and stain your clothes because honestly, Boston’s filth was so damn hard to scrub off of anything, you let go of the crate and watched as it unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

And now this, you thought rather bitterly, kneeling and doing your best not to stain the light color of the gown, you tried to gather the spilt vegetables — your mother was too busy selling to a woman who looked like a maid. She gave you a pointed look, as if asking if you were alright and you waved a hand back at her from your position.

I believe you dropped a few carrots” a soft voice came from behind and your head shot up “Do you need help?”


You whipped your head back, eyeing the man from toes to head and spit out the first thing that came into your head.

Wow, you’re big.”

The man was, indeed big, but you hardly doubted that this was a polite thing to say to someone offering help. The next thing you noticed was the slightly darker tone of his skin — a native, in Boston? — and the way he folded his hands in front of his body. He had shoulder-length dark hair, the upper half of it tied back and big brown eyes — that now were wide. 

His attire was nothing like you’ve ever seen before, a mixing between the usual native clothing you were able to identify by the tales of travelers and something else you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. The stranger frowned, and you noticed he had freckles, casting his eyes downwards to his wrist and then back to your face as a sheepish smile appeared in your lips.

“I— my apologies, but—“ the man stuttered as you got up in a hurry, doing your best to beat the dust off of your apron.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” you chirped, nearly knocking the native down, ignoring the looks from a few passerbies, the excitement taking over you before the decency and common sense called you donw “I do… believe you’ve said my words, sir, but… They’re awfully simple, you see, so I just want to make sure that…” God, you’ve waited for this moment for so long that you never wondered how things would go once they’ve actually said it.

“Yes, I… believed you have said mine as well, I—“ he blushed, clearly flustered at his lack of words. “Can you tell me your name?”

anonymous asked:

I'm having a bad day, could I have some remus and sirius fluff?

While putting your favorite condiment on a sandwich, you accidentally make a magical occult symbol and summon a demon.


A muffled what carried through the apartment.

“Why the fuck,” Sirius yelled, “do we have honey mustard?”

Lily screamed something unintelligible back.


A short silence ticked by before Sirius’ phone buzzed against the table countertop. He closed the fridge door and padded over on bare feet. Swiping his phone, Lily’s message popped up.

Lily: there wasn’t regular mustard at the store

Sirius: wtf ???


Sirius: HONEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lily: fuck off u piece of shit

Sirius: hOnEy!!

Sirius stared at the screen, waiting for the dot-dot-dot bubble to show up. When no response came, he sent three middle finger emojis and a skull. He dropped his phone onto the counter and reopened the fridge, grabbing the blasted yellow bottle. All he wanted was a good sandwich, was that too much to ask?

Scowling, Sirius squeezed the mustard onto his cheese, drawing a half-dog, half-dragon. A barely audible pop! came from behind Sirius, followed by a loud sneeze.

“Finally come to apologize?” Sirius asked.

“I think that usually comes after you regret summoning me.”

Spinning on his heel, Sirius faced a handsome stranger. The person leaned against the kitchen wall and Sirius sent a silent prayer to the heavens that this wasn’t someone Lily had a “sleepover” with. Hot damn, that smirk was doing things to Sirius. And those curls! He looked like Corbin Bleu’s identical twin, except with shorter hair and a sharper jaw line.

“You’re not Lily,” Sirius blurted.

The stranger raised their eyebrows. “No. Did you mean to summon someone else? Where’s the symbol?”


“You know, the symbol you used to summon me,” the stranger spoke slowly.


Sirius, confused as hell, watched the beautiful stranger push himself off the wall. They walked to Sirius and looked down at the mustard drawing closely.

They shook their head and whispered to theirself. “Prongs is going to lose his shit when he hears this.”

Who the hell was Prongs? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner? Sirius thought he was a much better fit for this beautiful stranger than Prongs. What kind of name is that, anyway? Sirius’ name was much cooler and he was funny, smart, pretty — the whole package deal.

“Well, as fun as this was,” the stranger interrupted Sirius’ thoughts, “time for me to go. Word of advice, stop drawing weird shit with mustard. And get some real mustard.”

They don’t like honey mustard! Sirius was in love.

Tilting his head slightly down, Sirius gave his best flirty smile, “If it’s been fun, why leave now?”

 The stranger’s lips twitched upwards. “Demon’s don’t mix pleasure with business.”

They snapped their fingers and with a pop!, they disappeared in a small puff of smoke.

“You’re not the beautiful stranger.”

A different person stood in Sirius and Lily’s kitchen.

The new stranger pressed a hand over their heart in offense. “I’m beautiful!”

Sirius had researched demons and how to summon them for two weeks. He practiced the symbol over and over — it looked exactly the same on his sandwich as last time!

“Wait,” the demon stared at the sandwich, “holy shit, are you the sandwich dude? Who summoned Moony with mustard?” They grabbed Sirius’ hand, shaking it eagerly. “It’s a pleasure to meet the legend.”

“Is Moony the one with curly hair?”

The demon dropped Sirius’ hand. “Yup. That’s our Moony. Shit, I’m so excited to tell him about this.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared before Sirius could ask anything more.

Sirius opened his bedroom door, yawning. It had been a long day at the garage and he needed a shower. Kicking the door shut, he turned to his closet and screamed bloody murder.

“Hello to you, too,” Moony said, sitting on Sirius’ bed.

“What, how, you,” Sirius’ mouth opened and closed. He croaked, “What?”

Moony suddenly looked shy, hunching their shoulders in slightly to make himself smaller. “I can go if you want.”

“NO!” Sirius coughed and calmly repeated, “No.” He looked at Moony’s lips, watching Moony nibble his lower one. “Uh, no, you should stay. Uh, do you want something to…drink?”

Moony shook their head. “I have to leave soon.”

Sirius shuffled his feet, disappointment and excitement mixing inside him. Gathering courage, he walked over to the bed and sat next to Moony.

“How long do we have?”

“Maybe three minutes.”

Sirius smiled, staring into Moony’s tawny eyes. “We’ve got time.”

They spent four minutes talking faster than Sirius’ had ever talked in his life, covering as much ground as possible. They did a fact for a fact, sharing as much information as they were comfortable with. Moony strayed from talking too much about being a demon, other than they had been a human once. Sirius made them laugh twice and Sirius was preening like a fucking peacock.

“I have to go,” Moony said.

“Could we do this again?”

Moony hesitated. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please? I’ll keep drawing with mustard until I summon you.”

Rolling his eyes, Moony said, “I’ll think about it. Now go shower,” Moony reached out and brushed their thumb across Sirius’ forehead, “you’re covered in grease.”

Two weeks later, Prongs appeared and pushed Moony into Sirius before disappearing with a pop!.

Three months later, Sirius held Moony’s’ hand for the first time while they walked in a park.

Four months later, Moony kissed Sirius on the cheek and disappeared.

He appeared again seconds later and pushed Sirius against a wall, kissing Sirius like their life depended upon it.

Two months later, Sirius wrote I love you in mustard and handed the piece of bread to Moony.

(Prongs appeared soon after and hugged them both, crying about how beautiful they were)

Witness Protection

(Was bad boy vernon) Drabble game 1. 

Originally posted by sneezes


 Vernon x Reader


Idk. Not really fluff but not smut and not really angst either.


someone gets knocked out and mentions of blood


                86- “Am i scaring you?”

                99- “You got a cute butt.”

                145- “I don’t care if you’re 4 or 40, you don’t hit people.”

Notes: Hair is BOOMBOOM era bc they fit nicely with the setting in my opinion

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Kings and Queens Part Two

Idk how much I like this, but please enjoy, everybody. SFW for the most part.

Part One

“Listen, you inconsequential thing, borrow my shoes again, and you’ll think back on the days you had feet very fondly! “

Camille gulped and turned to where Klaus and Kol sat, paying the spat no mind. “Klaus! A little help?”

“What?” He looked up and saw Rebekah steaming. “I can’t control her, Camille. Maybe ask Elijah?”

Elijah, of course, would not be helping her, but did she know that? No, no she didn’t.

She narrowed her eyes and fled Rebekah’s ire, stomping to her room like a child. Rebekah laughed and flopped into the seat between her brothers. “Can you the believe the nerve of her? Snooping, texting, stealing?”

“All from her gracious hosts, too,” Kol added with a snort. They thought it was funny, but Klaus was far from amused. Caroline was coming the next morning and she was so angry, he was scared for Camille’s life. Though, it would be very sexy to see his queen rip someone’s head off…. Unfortunately, she was too moral for that, so he doubted he would ever get to see something so delectable.

On the other hand, Caroline had been saying some very werewolf-like things since Camille’s little game and he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t go off the deep end.

(“You’re mine.” Gods, it sent shivers down his spine and made his wolf howl.)

When he’d told his siblings what had happened, Kol had found the thought and image as amusing as he found most things, and assured he would tape it. Rebekah had made interested noises and wondered aloud what Caroline would do if she came face to face with Tatia, or Aurora.

Freya had been more concerned about what she would do to Camille. He couldn’t imagine her being happy about the human overstepping her bounds like she was.

“Are you going to tell our Carebear?” Kol questioned.

Klaus scowled at the nickname, though Caroline insisted she didn’t mind it. “Tell her what? That our dear sister is throwing another tantrum?”

“No, he was thinking telling her about Camille acting like a leech, or worse, an in-law,” Rebekah snapped.

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Critical Role follows the story of Vox Machina, a ragtag group of misfits in a high fantasy setting who are all so, so flawed but, with their powers combined, keep on saving the day and (usually) making the world a better place!! Each character is played by a professional voice actor (it has been quite rightly called “improv theater with dice”) and this post is written for folks who’ve never played a tabletop RPG. Please watch/listen to Critical Role. Please.


Well, there’s the player characters, and the DM (Dungeon Master). The players are confronted with a situation put in front of them by the DM, which can be anything from “a monster attacks you” to “a man jumps up from a nearby table in the tavern, points at you, and starts screaming about how you killed his wife,” and then the player must react in an in-character kind of way! Hence the “improv theater” part of it! All of the players AND the DM in Critical Role are, again, professional voice actors, so they’re pretty fucking good at that. It’s more or less an improvised radio play where the success or failure of an action is based on luck, aka the roll of a die. It can be anything from whether or not you can persuade someone to give you a 5% discount on potions, to if you can fight off a charm forcing you to try and kill all your friends. Good times.

And the story the DM, Matt Mercer, puts together is so fucking good that professional writer people like Patrick Rothfuss are huge fans (and he actually came on as a guest for an episode). I’ve laughed til I cried and I’ve cried because of the FEELINGS. It’s so good. It’s so good, you guys.

So, let’s get to the actual show, shall we? This is easiest to share if you watch THIS, which is the official character intros created by the actor folks. BUT I’M GONNA GIVE YOU A RUNDOWN ANYWAY! In alphabetical order!!! IT’S REALLY LONG BECAUSE I LOVE THEM ALL.

vox machina 4 lyfe

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(Sometime after Carry On ends. I imagined it maybe… a year and a half after Simon beat the Humdrum?)

”The worst part about sleeping in the same bed as someone with wings was that they could wake you by having them flap on your back, relentlessly, even if it was four in the morning and “Crowley, it’s my one day off this week, you shit.”

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anonymous asked:

48 hour ask:(I'm brownish skinned, kinda short but I learned to live with it cos I'm a sarcastic little shit) idk if you need the deets or nah but could I request a scene of me and Tae please I'm sad and I miss him (a lil fluff and lotta smut pls ehehehe) thank you I love you!!☁️

(To the anon that requested this, I suggest you read below the GIF before reading ;_;) 

Versace on the Floor - Bruno Mars

WARNING: Soft Smut. 

“Tae, this is starting to get really hard you know. I feel so lonely with you gone all the time.”

“I know honey, I know.”

He whispered from behind you, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist. You tilted your head up to look at his face, frowning a little.

“Tae, I’m being serious. I see you three times a year if I’m lucky. You don’t even enjoy being an officer anyway, so why are you still doing it?” 

A deep sigh left his mouth as you felt him hug you even tighter. 

“The money, y/n. If I didn’t have this job, we’d be in a less appealing apartment right now.”

“Tae, I really don’t care about the apartment and where we live. I just want to see you more often. I know what it does to you too, being away from home.”

“I do miss home when I’m away, and I definitely miss seeing you every day but it’s so hard to just pick up and leave. I’ve dedicated so much to this job.”

You stayed quiet for a while, not knowing whether to continue the conversation and have it eventually turn into a fight, or just give up and deal with being lonely for the next few years while he goes off and does what he thinks he needs to do. 

“Hey, turn around.”

His soft voice and lips on your neck, startled you out of your thoughts. You turned your body around, obeying exactly what he said. kneeling in between his spread legs, you stared at him with a puzzled look.

“Come sit on my lap.”

His hands moved to your waist pulling you closer to him, your bodies against each other as you now straddled him. You tried to keep your composure. You knew exactly what he was trying to do, but the thing that was annoying you most, was that what he was doing was working. You looked down as he kissed your forehead softly. You still felt upset, indulging yourself in him was yet again another rarity, therefore it hurt more knowing you couldn’t experience the taste, or the warmth of him every single night. 

“Hey, baby.”

His hand moved to lift your chin, forcing your eyes to meet. You hated being emotional around him, you knew how it made him feel, and how he really wasn’t good dealing with it. His hands suddenly pushed you gently against him even more then before, your foreheads forcefully touching now. His eyes were half lidded already, making your stomach twist with how handsome he looked right now. You couldn’t take it anymore, he won. You closed the gap between the both of you, lips meeting in a gentle kiss, and that’s all it was. Everything was gentle. there was no rough gestures, no playing around, just the two of you connecting again after what felt like forever. 

“Let me make it up to you… please?” 

Before you could answer, he had kissed you softly again, shifting your bodies so you were now on your back, him lying down on top of you. It wasn’t long before your shorts were off, along with his boxers. For some reason, in this moment, you didn’t care about being naked, you were so focused on feeling him against your body. It was as if your mind had gone hazy, and everything was warm around you, clearly not making you think straight, but as soon as you felt him push himself inside of you, your mind came back to focusing on what was going on. His hand came to cup your cheek as he rested his forehead to yours once again, looking deep into your eyes. His breathing was uneven as he slowly started to rock his hips against yours. Everything he was doing was so gentle, only causing small gasps to leave your mouth every now and then when he would pull out a little more than before. He usually wouldn’t of lasted this long since he would go without sex for months, but it was obvious he was trying to make this last. He wanted this moment to last just as much as you did. You wrapped your arms around his neck tightly, pulling him into another kiss, his thrusts suddenly picked up the slightest bit, and you knew, although he could have switched up the mood then and there, he was close but still trying hard to keep the mood how it was. Suddenly, a deep, soft moan left his lips against yours and his thrusts stuttered a little as you felt the warmth of him fill you up. He kept kissing you, slowly becoming more and more sloppier as his thrusts began to halt to almost nothing, before he pulled out, leaving you breathless. 

He brushed some of your hair away from your face and stared at you, with a small smile on his lips. 


You sighed, not knowing what else to say in this moment. His finger came up to your lips to shush you.

“I love you ok? I’m going to work something out. I knew how much it affected our relationship but I really thought maybe it could work somehow. But it’s not. Let me sort it out.” 

Credits to GIF owner

I don’t know how, but as soon as I finished writing this I read your ask for the 5th time and realised that you probably meant you personally missed him and that you were personally sad and you didn’t want to me to put that in this response but I’ve already wrote it omg !0! I’m so sorry *actually cries* You probably didn’t want emotional smut either god dam it I really am sorry! And I apologise if this isn’t as detailed as you’d like it. I do take oneshot requests anon! Maybe I can redeem myself with something a bit more interesting later on if you’d like? 

I really have no idea how I got confused with this anon but I really hope you somewhat like this either way ;_; *Goes to hide under a rock*   

i'm here (miniminter)

warnings: mentions of anxiety and claustrophobia

from: slimon
yo, you busy??

to: slimon
don’t think so..why do you ask??

from: slimon
well it’s this girl’s birthday and i figured, your a girl, you can help me pick her present

from: slimon
so what do you say?

to: slimon
by any chance is this girl your mum??

from: slimon

from: slimon
does that mean you’ll help? you know my mum pretty well you’ll know what to buy her, right??

he had a point i did know his mum pretty well. in fact i’ve know his mum my entire life, considering she was at the hospital only hours after i was born. both our mums had met at our older brothers childcare; way, way before me and simon were in the equation. our two mothers hit it off quite well together, along with the rest of our families.

you can only imagine how joyous it was for them both to experience pregnancy at roughly the same time. which meant that simon and i basically didn’t have a choice but to befriend each other the moment i entered this world a few months after he had.

from: slimon
please? 🙏

to: slimon
what’s in it for me?

from: slimon
the thought of knowing you a) helped pick my mother a delightful present and b) saved my ass - her birthday is in 2 days

to: slimon
idk i might be kinda busy later..

from: slimon
fine i’ll buy you a nando’s, you happy now??

to: slimon
i’ll see you downstairs in 20

well that put my day upside down i thought as i set aside my harry potter marathon for later.

i’m happy to help simon because even though i teased him about being busy, i really didn’t have any plans for the day. but i just wished that boy wouldn’t leave things until the last minute.

i laugh to myself shaking my head at how appreciative carol would be of her youngest child leaving her birthday shopping until only days before.

minutes after making myself look presentable i receive a text.

from: slimon
i’m here

i head down the elevator and spot his red range rover parked across the street, not that it was difficult to find.

“hey si” i say jumping in the passenger side of his car and leaning over to kiss his cheek.

it’s not like we were dating or anything, everything between myself and the boy sat beside me has always been strictly platonic. that’s not to say that i hadn’t had the slightest of crushes on him growing up. or even to say that as confused teenagers we didn’t experiment a little with our first kisses. but we both had dated plenty of people since and agreed that it was weird.

“i owe you one y/n, thank you for helping me out today” he said intertwining our fingers together to express his gratitude while he was currently driving. well this isn’t something simon and i had done before, and i didn’t know whether to be concerned at the fact neither of us were moving our hands back to our sides.

“yes, i believe you do si. in the form of a nandos or so i’m told” i giggle at him as he drives us towards westfields.


“i don’t know simon, this isn’t exactly something your mum would use” i comment on the object he holds in his hands. his shoulders slump in defeat showing he was well and truely over this shopping trip.

we haven’t found a single thing his mum would like and it had been over an hour since we arrived. it was fair to say we both could use a break from the ordeal.

“so what do you say we go for that nando’s now, yeah?” simon asks walking back to place the household item on its shelf.

i follow behind the boy like a lost puppy as we make our way to the food court. being out in the open rather than tucked away in little shops meant that simon received a lot more attention from strangers.

i certainly didn’t mind that he was being constantly stopped by fans as it was his life after all, and it was him who wanted to go shopping. so i just stood aside and let him do his thing.

he was happily taking a number of picture with some people when it was as if all the little fan girls and boys had called their other fan girls and boys to inform them of simon’s current location. as people came flooding in towards the lanky boy i found myself wound up right in the middle of them all.

there was no possible escape, making me feel instantly claustrophobic. claustrophobia was a weakness of mine and when i got claustrophobic it meant i also got extremely anxious.

“y/n?” i heard simon yell out just like he would when playing fifa.

“excuse me everyone i need to find my friend y/n” he urged but barely anyone budged. including the people around me. as i pushed people out of my way i felt tears well up in my eyes, but i refused to let them fall as i nearly had my way out.

no sooner than a couple of seconds, i had removed myself from the growing group of people and on the outside of it all. simon’s eyes caught with mine as he noticed i was safe while relief washed over his worried state.

“y/n” he breathed out, as he miraculously made his way over to me with the pack of people following shortly behind. “i think that’s enough shopping for one day, c'mon let’s get you out of here” he said wrapping a protective arm over my shoulder and leading us to an elevator away from his fan base.

“what about your mum?” i asked with a small voice.

“that’s what amazon prime is for” he chuckled lightly “my main concern at this point is you, are you okay y/n?” placing a soft kiss to my forehead. i nodded not willing to say much in return.

the two of us filed into the car park elevator just at the point when this day couldn’t get worse.

simon reluctantly pulled his arm away from me so that he was able to hit the floor number that would get to his car.

did i speak too soon when i said this day couldn’t get any worse? most definitely.

the elevator came to a sudden holt as the power inside the small lift vanished.

i looked at simon with wide eyes as the realisation of the abrupt stop sinks in with the both of us.

already on edge from the fan experience i feel my claustrophobia and anxiety rise as quick as the tears that pool in my eyes.

feeling slightly light headed i slide down the elevator wall to the ground. i pull my knees into my chest as involuntary begin to sob.

i distantly hear simon talking on the phone assumingly to the number put down in case of an emergency. although i can’t be too certain as the hot tears running down my face cloud my vision while fear and anxiousness cloud my thoughts.

“y/n? it’s okay, you’re okay.” I don’t respond unable to comprehend what’s happening around me during my panicked state.

i feel myself being moved into simon’s lap. i can’t admit that this is the first time simon has witness a panic attack of mine.

“y/n it’s okay. i’m here, it’s me simon. i’m right here”

it’s somewhat upsetting, but also comforting that simon knows exactly how to react in this situation. i feel him gently pull my face into the crook of his neck and he relaxes me by stroking my hair.

“shhh, i’m here for you. it’s okay”

although tears continue to stream out of my eyes, i slowly feel myself calm down a little.

“i’m here” he moves a strand of hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear “simon’s here and I promise we’re going to be okay. i called the maintenance number and they said they will have us out in no time. they think the elevator just stopped between the floors and it’ll be an easy fix.”

i feel myself begin to relax and i lightly pull my head away from simon’s chest so that i am able to look at him in the eyes. i continue to stay quiet as we both look at one another, a hiccup presenting itself every now and then . “see y/n, it’s all going to be okay” his voice wasn’t condescending instead it was rather soothing.

“i’m sorry simon” i say smally, looking away from him in embarrassment as i attempt to move out of his lap.

his tight grip on me doesn’t budge as he refuses to let me go. “y/n look at me.” hesitantly, i obliged and am met with his sad blue orbs. “please don’t ever apologise for your anxiety, not to me or to anyone else..” he stops briefly to run his hands through his disheveled hair before looking back at me. “i’m just glad it was me with you” he adds sweetly.

neither me nor simon utter a word as we sit in silence for a couple of minutes.

“i really hope i don’t make things worse right now” he randomly comments confusing me.

he gently moves his hands from my sides and brings them up to cup my face as he intently reads my facial expression for any exisiting signs of fear or anxiety. concluding that i am now much more calm then i was even when stepping into the elevator he begins to lean in.

even in the state that i’m in i easily comprehend what simon is about to do as my eyes flutter shut. i feel his warm lips press against mine while his thumb gently caresses my face. the goofy kid who coincidentally was my very first kiss was now very gently kissing me once again.

he was so cautious with his actions as if i was so fragile i could break with any sudden movements. somehow even a kiss so delicate and sweet as this sets a cage of butterflies off inside. making me question whether my actions and relationship towards simon has always been completely platonic from either side.

i feel myself completely at ease as we both pull away.

“do you think that maybe i could stay in your spare room? i don’t think i could handle the elevator on my own back at my apartment block” i ask simon nervously, partly due to what just happened.

“you really think i’m going to leave you on your own after what you’ve been through today?” and as his smile lights his face i feel us begin to move again. and i know with simon by my side, all will be okay.

There is another side to every story

Three months ago, I posted this. To recap for those who do not want to read it, I said that I did not, under any circumstances, want to see any of my edits on Corrin - Tale of Two Kingdoms which is a Facebook page. Since that post, a statement like this is present in my blog’s description.

I said I was not going to outwardly say what had happened, but I did make hints as to what did in the comments of that post. I decided not to share the story because I did not want to make a personal attack against this page. I still do not want to. However, I feel that since some actions have been made against me, I must retaliate in a way I see fit. This is not an attack. This is an explanation.

From my understanding from different sources, this page is not majorly run by the person in question anymore. This does not change my stance, I do not want my edits to be seen on this page at all, link or not. That is a preference because I do not want to be associated with this person or his original page in any way or form.

This person in question will be called Q. Q and I were once friends. Due to disagreements between him and I as well as him and good friends of mine, I cut this tie before any major happenings.

When I saw that Q posted one of my edits on his page(the Elise!Kana edit) without credit, I said exactly: “As the creator of this edit, please take it down.” I was familiar with Q, remember, and knew that he was online at the time due to various sources. I gave him one hour. When I returned to see if the post was taken down, it was not. Instead, my comment had been removed. This is where things got tricky and that is why I made the post I previously linked. It was also on my own Facebook page.

This led to a status indirectly targeting me on his Facebook wall, which mind you was quite hypocritical on its own if you had read the status, but I digress as this is not the point. I stood strong with my posts and did not delete them. A couple of hours later, the repost of my edit was removed, followed by another status of his that was unnecessary.

Had the issue been dealt maturely on his part, this is where it would have ended. Because it was not, I kept my posts as well as the disclaimer on my blog’s description. Eventually, this was buried.

As of recently, however, it appears he found my blog and went onto saying that I had a vendetta against him, as well as saying he apologized to me where I had replied with a rant that ended with profanity.

Here is where I will admit: he did apologize to me. Here is where I will argue: this was one month before the happenings. There was another occurrence where he apologized to me three months before the happenings as well. And again, one four months before. All of these times were not due to any reposting; they were apologies over his attitude towards different issues and how he hoped to patch up relationships with me.

And this was my response to the first mentioned(the second and third attempts mentioned were left unanswered):

I consider myself a tolerant person, despite my complaints and actions. I’m used to getting treated like trash and worse.
But I won’t give into your bullshit; you’re not going to get a follower or sympathizer from me.

Take pleasure in the fact that this is the first time I’ve said this to anyone: leave me alone or go to hell.

Again, I will admit. This was hostile. I was tired of receiving apologies from this person who I had ignored and was devastated over his actions towards a friend. I won’t go into specifics on what this was about, but it was due to an issue that happened between Q and a very good friend of mine which was, lightly said, inexcusable. Hostile on my part, yes.

Why I bring this up, however, is that it is insinuated that I rejected an apology over the issues between his page and I. This never happened.

So while I am painted to look as if I have it completely out for Q, I do not. I truly dislike him; this isn’t a hidden fact. I have a reason for it, however, and quite honestly feel I am justified to have my personal opinions over him.

The reason I am making this post is because I do not want my own image tarnished without people knowing both sides of the story. I am well aware Q has his own set of followers, as well as people who have found hatred in me because of Q. That is fine as long as they know what happened, and should they ever see this, they are free to make an opinion on me as well as continue to flock to Q; that’s not my choice, nor my objective to have you do otherwise.

And again, this has nothing to do with the new administrators of the page. I do not hold any grudges on them. I simply do not want to be involved at all with anything that originated from Q.

Thank you for your time.

emerging-writer  asked:

So a lot of people have been saying some negative things about Discovery (re: the uniforms, the klingons, etc) but honestly for me as long as the show is good I don't care?? Like I'm a real easy to please fan and I legit thought the uniforms look great tbh. I think a lot of it is just we don't have context for it yet and it's too early to make judgments on it (like especially cosmetic stuff like this). As long as it's good, I don't really care what it looks like I guess. Just gotta think +

exactly! this trailer is pretty much the only information we have aside from some interviews.

the problem is that its new. and trekkies are real good at gatekeeping and being pretentious and we don’t like new. honestly, call out post @us, especially the older trekkies. its new, it looks different, but we’ll get used to it. when star wars came out with finn and rey fans had about the same reaction we’re having now, but guess what, its fine now! the movies were great and everythings comin up skywalker. we just have to give it time. The same thing happened with voyager (tbh it was way worse for voyager) and ds9. this is just the standard chain of events.

as long as the tv show is good, people will come around. it may take some people a few seasons but they’ll come around, then it will be known as one of the better star trek shows and everyone will get nostalgic for it and we’ll meet all the cast at conventions 50 years later and have them sign our holographic action figures of them.

as long as it is good! ha! we know nothing about it! and I mean maybe them delaying it was a good thing, if they weren’t ready they weren’t ready. I’d rather wait a few extra months and get something good than have it now and it be messy. they’re trying to do it right, at least I think they are. tbh if it wasn’t for that whole cbs all access thing I wouldn’t have any problems. i’ll admit I don’t like how they don’t have red/gold/blue for the uniforms, but maybe theres a reason for that?? idk?? there might be a reason for the Klingons too, who knows!

we wont know anything else until we get another trailer or the show comes out. the end of the first season is the best time to decide if this is a good show or not. ha and even if it isn’t ill still probably watch it! because trek! if our biggest complaint by the end of this is cosmetic I can live with that! costumes and make up can always change. people will calm down, and ill be wearing my llap foam finger. we gonna be fine guys.

anonymous asked:

Do you know of any Robb and Rickon drabbles or headcanons? Idk I don't think I've ever seen these 2 interact tbh, and I'm having all these baby brother feels. 😭😭

A quick look through my Robb and Rickon tag brought me nothing but pain, but I found two things written specifically for the two of them: a fic of them reuniting (in the afterlife) and this random mini-fic I wrote for a friend for an ask game. But as one is with Dead!them and the other isn’t really happy, please enjoy these happy headcanons: 

  • Robb was 11 years old when Rickon was born, so he remembers his birth the most out of all his siblings. He didn’t really care about another sibling being born, but the second he saw his baby brother, that changed. 
  • Honestly after Cat and Sansa, Robb was probably the most doting family member. Every time he finished training, he’d go straight to Rickon to play with him and hold the little one. 
  • When Rickon was fussy, he’d only settle down in three people’s arms: Ned, Cat, and Robb’s (although Bran maintains that if he were older, he would have been able to calm him down). 
    • Whenever Rickon is fussing and screaming, Robb will scoop him up and hold him close and walk him around Winterfell and Rickon would usually settle down and look up at Robb the entire time, or fall asleep in his arms (he’d usually be drooling onto Robb’s sleeve, but Robb didn’t mind). 
    • Catelyn is a fabulous mother, but she still didn’t like Jon being around too much, and he wasn’t exactly a fan of being glared at, so while Rickon was still a baby, Robb would bring Rickon around to Jon and the two would play with Rickon. 
  • Rickon always wanted to learn how to fight, but he didn’t get a whole lot of practice because of how young he was. He’d usually sit from his seat watching his brothers practice, and a few months before Robb left Winterfell, he taught Rickon how to fight. 
    • They practiced with wooden swords, and Robb went easy on Rickon (not that Rickon ever realized until later), but he did really teach Rickon how to fight - every lesson, he’d tell Rickon very explicitly how to block, how to look for an opening in his opponent, etc., and he’d always ask Rickon to repeat these lessons. When Rickon went to Skagos after leaving Bran, these lessons came in very handy. 
  • Whenever Rickon had nightmares, he thought the best way to deal with them was to scream and thrash around his bed yelling, “I’M NOT SCARED!” and various other phrases, most that included yelling at whatever he was upset about. Needless to say, this did not work, and only resulted in the Starks and Jory running into Rickon’s room ready to fight someone. 
    • Robb told Rickon that he should just come get him if he’s ever feeling scared, so whenever Rickon has a bad dream, he’d go into Robb’s room and drag him out of bed, demanding that he stay with Rickon the entire night. 
      • This evolved into Rickon dragging all of the Starks out of bed. Bran wasn’t much older so he’d be sleeping and carried by Jon, Sansa would be up and ready, and Arya would glare but get out of bed as well. They’d all come and cuddle in Rickon’s bed for the night, and it always made him feel better and safe. 
      • When he was alone and had nightmares, he’d wake up and his first thought every time was that he had to get Robb, but then he’d remember that Robb was gone and he would never be with his brother again, so he’ll cuddle up with Shaggy and try to go back to sleep sorry this was supposed to be happy headcanons 
      • Actually while I’m on the sad headcanon train, Rickon left when he was 6, when he was 3 in the books, so he doesn’t have the best mental image of his family. Sometimes their faces are blurry, and he always freaks out when he can’t remember Robb’s face the most, because he knows he’ll never see it again. It’ll meld with their father’s face at times, and Rickon closes his eyes and lists things that he remembers from each family member to try and make their face less blurry SORRY 
  • Honestly Rickon just thinks that Robb is the coolest and most adult person ever? He honestly thought Robb, Theon, and Jon were the same age as Ned and Cat, and it took a very long time for Robb to explain that they weren’t (and even then, Ned was the one who helped Rickon understand the difference). Rickon looks up to all his siblings, but he wants to be just like Robb when he grows up, and he makes sure to tell everyone this. 
    • Robb always grins like an idiot when he hears this, and he tells Rickon that he hopes to be half the man Rickon is, which always makes Rickon have the biggest smile on his face. 
  • Also, Robb gave Rickon piggyback rides, like, all the time. 
Has Kent Parson won two Stanley Cups?

(In which I agonize uselessly over the Check!Please timeline as it relates to one Kent V. Parson)

Disclaimer: this is weird because it’s based heavily on real dates in NHL history, but of course Kent is a fictional character, so when he gets drafted first or wins the Stanley Cup, he displaces real people and teams in a way that kinda makes my head spin when I think about it too hard. To construct this timeline, I relied heavily on this timeline, on the Kent Parson page of the check!please wikia, on the Kent Parson tag here at Everything!Please, and on googling a bunch of real NHL stats, so thanks to those who already did a lot of this work. 

  • Kent was born July 4, 1990
    • OR WAS HE???
    • Okay, he was. But it would make more sense if he was born in 1991, and Jack as well (Ngozi says here that she at first couldn’t decide between the two years, but ultimately lands on 1990 as seen here–Seguin’s number is 91 and he includes it in his signature as most players do, which is why she would have been confused staring at the number 91 when she really meant 1990).
    • BUT
    • The entry draft in which Kent and Jack were supposed to participate is explicitly stated as being in 2009
    • NHL entry draft eligibility is for players who “will be eighteen years old on or before September 15 […] of the draft year” (from wikipedia)
    • So Kent and Jack (July and August birthdays respectively) were both eligible for the 2008 draft… and I can’t think of a convincing reason that they would have both deferred a year
    • Basically all I’m saying is that this timeline is a little wonky straight off the bat based off the hard dates of Kent’s birthday and draft class, and this also makes the rest of the timeline a little weird, but artistic licence (let’s not talk about Jack’s NCAA eligibility) so it’s fine

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all of the voices surrounding us here

i watched my nephew get married the other day, and apparently it inspired me. title comes from ed sheeran’s tenerife sea bc that song has haunted my weekend. no one asked for this but you’re getting it anyway. there’re probably a thousand mistakes bc i haven’t read over it but w/e


James wakes up to seven missed calls, four texts and a rather harried voice message, and it’s only nine-thirty in the morning. He groans, rolling over and rubbing a hand through his hair. He unlocks his phone one handed, using the other to scratch at his stomach as he scrolls through his notifications. He’s just started reading the first of his emails when the phone rings again, and he sighs.

“Hello, Marlene.” He says, his voice too rusty from lack of use to hit the level of cheerfulness he was aiming for.

“James!” Marlene virtually shouts, and James winces. “I’ve been calling you all morning!”

“I’m aware,” James replies dryly, smiling slightly despite himself. He gets out of bed and stumbles a few steps before managing to regain his footing as he heads for his kitchen. “It’s half nine in the morning; what do you want?”

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anonymous asked:

A prompt for your drabble-a-day! (if you like it of course!) some of the companions thoughts (or jealousy) on Hawkes attempts to woo Fen!

To Carver, it came as a surprise.

Carver had been relatively young when he had first begun to realize his brother’s tastes ran toward other men. And he didn’t really get it, but whatever – it wasn’t like it affected him in any way, shape, or form. And he’d known about his brother’s attraction to Fenris since the moment they met the elf. He had eyes, after all, and working ears (a fact he somewhat lamented, every time he was forced to cringe through Leopold Hawke’s questionable version of flirtation).

But – what did it matter if Leo had a crush? It didn’t take long for it to become clear that it would take an act of the Maker himself for someone to break through to Fenris, who was, to put it mildly, a difficult fellow. Carver tried for months to befriend him, with no success. And Carver was a likable guy, unlike his brother.

And then, after years of awkward estrangement, of keeping up with his brother only through reading about his misdeeds in the morning papers, or paying contacts to report back on his doings, Carver happened to look up one day and spot him, across the street. Leo had just been there, with the elf at his side, and he’d been smiling like a man Carver had never met. He lifted his hand, so easily and so casually, and he rested it against the small of Fenris’s back. He kissed his forehead. He laughed at something the elf said.

Before the fight that had caused the brothers to part ways, Carver had fallen into the habit of thinking of Leo as a thing to be endured. Not that Carver didn’t love his brother – he did – but the idea that someone who wasn’t forced to by blood ties might also love him was hard to wrap his head around – and there was angry, abrupt, brooding Fenris, smiling back like Leopold-fucking-Hawke had hung the moon.

It was strange, and surprising, and surreal, and Carver couldn’t help but wonder how such a thing could possibly have come about. Then it made him accidentally picture some things he really didn’t want to think about.

Unlike Carver, Isabela was more than willing to think about those sorts of things. She liked picturing Hawke’s big muscles flexing, Fenris’s long legs hooked ‘round his broad shoulders. She liked imagining them, grunting and groaning and glistening with sweat – and she wasn’t shy about peppering the two of them with the necessary questions needed to fully round out her fantasies.

Hawke would only frown at her, when she did, and tell her in that chill-inducing voice of his that she needed to mind her own business.

Fenris, on the other hand, would get the most delicious little smile on his face, wicked and satisfied and oddly proud, and ask her what, exactly, it was she wanted to know.

“Hawke is very good with his mouth,” he informed her, on one memorable occasion, “And he likes hearing explicit instruction.” His chuckle had been so low and deep and pleased when Hawke, beet red, had uttered an oath.

“Maker’s ass, Fenris, do you have to tell her everything?”

Merrill thought they were adorable, even when Fenris was tormenting poor Hawke. Both of them could be terrible grumps when they wanted to be – when they woke up on the wrong side of the bed. But they were much happier once they started waking up in the same bed – and that made her happy, too. She liked the way they looked at each other.

She hoped there were lots of flowers at the wedding.

For Varric and Aveline, the pairing was obvious – the only surprise being in how long it took to actually happen for keeps. Fenris and Hawke completed one another, brought out the best in each other, and – at least, according to Aveline – each was much more bearable when the other was around. Varric hoped to adequately capture the essence of the relationship in his book – but most of the details Isabela provided were too explicit, even for his shitty publishers. He didn’t understand how she was getting such juicy intel, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He was sure Fenris would kill her if he ever found out.

After it became officially official, Sebastian and Donnic took Hawke out, sat him down, and demanded to know what his intentions were with their friend.

It didn’t go over well.

Some people just can’t take a joke.

What wasn’t a joking matter was the pain that Anders felt, whenever he saw them smile.

He was the one to make the discovery – to first learn that, after three long, wonderful years, the romance was on again. Fresh manuscript in hand, he’d rushed to Hawke’s house early one the morning, convinced that this time he had the argument that would turn the big mage to his way of thinking. This was the one that would impress him. This was the turn of phrase that would open his eyes.

And Fenris was there, in the kitchen, reading the morning paper and chewing a bite of toast.

He was wearing Hawke’s shirt – and nothing else.

“I love him,” Hawke told him, oblivious to the agony that hollowed out his friend’s chest and left him, later, tear-stained and grasping for breath. “Can’t you be happy for me?”

No, Anders knew. He couldn’t.

I Exist-- Some thoughts on Scraps of Representation

There is a joke among some of my friends that I don’t engage with media unless it has wlw in it. (I used to be able to joke back that I got into How to Get Away With Murder just fine, but then that show decided it loved me very much and can no longer be used as a counterpoint.) The point being, I demand representation pretty rigorously. I spent too long without it. I will not settle for erasure or scraps.

Except right now I’m reconsidering the scraps bit.

Recently, Diane Duane released Games Wizards Play, the tenth book in the Young Wizards series, which I have been following for about half my life. Now, YA fantasy is hardly a kind genre to people like me. You may be scrambling to say no, Malinda Lo’s books, no, this one book—but they are exceptions. You have to seek them out. As a teen, I didn’t know what I was, I didn’t want to be anything but a totally normal straight girl. I didn’t know what to look for, wouldn’t have looked for it if I did.

Back to Young Wizards—it’s an incredibly important series to me. One of those things that came into my life at exactly the right time, with concepts and themes that settled into my heart and stayed there.

And Games Wizards Play threw me some scraps. I rolled my eyes a little bit at the minor gay character, because I am a Connoisseur of Gay Representation, please, this is almost quite literally nothing. But then.

Oh, but then.

Page 528, US edition:

“Nope, I’m ace,” she said. Nita blinked.

Asexual,” Lissa said.

Cue the water works. Seriously. I was sobbing with joy over this minor character who got introduced ten books in. I can demand real representation for gay people, for wlw, because I have seen it before, I know it can be done. I have never, in my life, seen the word asexual casually used in a real, published, non-queer lit book. This minor character suddenly meant the world. This small, throwaway scene, ran me straight through the heart. I am real, I exist, I am right here on this page.

I am actually tearing up about it again.

It means so much to me now, when I am 22 and well-versed in all the labels I can use to define myself. If I had seen this at 11, 12, 16, when I had not yet found the words but knew I was not what people said I should be? It would have been world changing.

It makes me look differently at the minor gay character. When I had nothing, he would have been something.

LGBTQIAAP main characters are incredibly important, and we should keep demanding them. I don’t think we always have to be grateful for scraps. But I think it’s important to not discount them. I think it’s important to remember how we would have reacted to them before we knew everything we know now. A minor character might be the only light in the dark for a kid who doesn’t know what they are yet. And it’s incredibly frustrating that there are so many instances when we don’t even get those. There are so many series that I loved that gave no hint to my existence. Young Wizards may not have given me much, I wouldn’t even really call what it did representation, but it told me I exist, it’s telling some kid who just found it at the library they exist, and that’s not nothing. It’s a huge incredible something.

It takes one line. One word. There is no excuse to not throw one word to the people who need it. We can talk all day about good representation and what that constitutes, but in the meantime, just one word is going to make a difference. We need to know we exist. And when we’re children, or teens, we need to know there’s a way to exist when the way we’ve been taught feels wrong.

Everything makes a difference.

And that difference might mean everything.

lucas looking @ riley pt. 1

alright so y’all wanting this, so i’m giving it to you. i have a folder on my computer that has 179 caps in it, so this will probably be split into like 3 posts so they aren’t too long. they’re gonna be in order, so this post will be s1 and the first half of s2. i’m gonna put it under a cut so it doesn’t clog up anyone’s dash, so have fun, enjoy the suffering !!!

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anonymous asked:

i'd like to request a markgyeom fic where yugyeom confesses to mark, asking him to see him as a man rather than a dongsaeng. maybe mark was already aware of yugyeom's feelings, but felt that yugyeom is too young? yugyeom wants to show that he is mature/can take care of mark. ps. i'm so glad i found this blog!!

Warning: extreme amount of idk what is going on

Wordcount: 800

Author: Jin

omg this is— i cant im actually really pleased with this bc how i wrote this fic is literally how i live my life everyday- on crack whoohoo. sorry i didn’t take this prompt too seriously lmfao

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