not sure how i feel about this but it needs to get out of my head

When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.

This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.

She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.

“Do you need help?” she offered.

The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.

“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.

This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”

“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”

This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.

Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.

The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.

“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.

She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.

“An outrage! Put me down!”

“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.

“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.

“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”

The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”

“Really? Can I hear some?”

“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.

She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.

In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.

“There you go. Food mountain.”

The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.

She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”

“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.

“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.

She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”

It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.

“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”

“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”

She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”

It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”

“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”

“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.

SKAM S04E09 Clip 5 - Maghrib

SANA: Please accept my fast, even though I’ve behaved badly. Please watch over Eva and Vilde and Noora, Chris. Please watch over Isak and Even and Elias and Yousef.

[VILDE: Hi, are you ready to meet up?

EVA: Sana! Chris and I will pick you up with the van in 20 minutes.

SANA: Ok cool

SANA: I regret cancelling the date with Yousef

NOORA: YEEES! Call him! Go!

EVA: Do it girl!! Life is NOW!!

SANA: According to Islam, life is after death. Which is one of the reasons why I should stay away from him

CHRIS: According to me, the abdomen is dead after death. Which is one of the reasons why you should meet him!!

VILDE: Yousef! Yousef! Yousef!

SANA: Hahaha I get why mom is worried that I don’t have any Muslim friends

NOORA: Hello! OK!! I can argue from an Islamic perspective

SANA: Now I’m intrigued

NOORA: Ok, doesn’t Islam believe in destiny?

Keep reading

theguardian.com
Ten things I learned about writing from Stephen King
The novelist James Smythe, who has been analysing the work of Stephen King for the Guardian since 2012, on the lessons he has drawn from the master of horror fiction
By James Smythe

Stephen King is an All-Time Great, arguably one of the most popular novelists the world has ever seen. And there’s a good chance that he’s inspired more people to start writing than any other living writer. So, as the Guardian and King’s UK publisher Hodder launch a short story competition – to be judged by the master himself – here are the ten most important lessons to learn from his work.

1. Write whatever the hell you like

King might be best known – or, rather, best regarded – as a writer of horror novels, but really, his back catalogue is crammed with every genre you can think of. There are thrillers (Misery, Gerald’s Game), literary novels (Bag Of Bones, Different Seasons), crime procedurals (Mr Mercedes), apocalypse narratives (The Stand), fantasy (Eyes Of The Dragon, The Dark Tower series) … He’s even written what I think of as being one of the greatest Young Adult novels of all time: The Long Walk. Perhaps the only genre or audience he hasn’t really touched so far is comedy, but most of his work features moments that show his deft touch with humour. It’s clear that King does what he wants, when he wants, and his constant readers – the term he calls his, well, constant readers – will follow him wherever he goes.

2. The scariest thing isn’t necessarily what’s underneath the bed

Horror is a curious thing. What scares one person won’t necessarily scare another. And while there might be moments in his horror novels that tread towards the more conventional ideas of what some find terrifying, for the most part, the truly scary aspects are those that deal with humanity itself. Ghosts drive people to madness, telekinetic girls destroy whole towns with their powers, clowns … well, clowns are just bloody terrifying full stop. But the true crux of King’s ability to scare is finding the thing that his readers are actually worried about, and bringing that to the fore. If you’re writing horror, don’t just think about what goes bump in the night; think about what that bump might drive people to do afterwards.

3. Don’t be scared of transparency

One of my favourite things about King’s short story collections are the little notes about each tale that he puts into the text. The history of them, the context for the idea, how the writing process actually worked. They’re not only invaluable material for aspiring writers – because exactly how many drafts does it take to reach a decent story? King knows! – but they’re also brilliant nuggets of insight into King himself. Some people might think that it’s better off knowing nothing about authors when they read their work, but for King, his heart is on his sleeve. In his latest collection, The Bazaar of Broken Dreams, King gets more in-depth than ever, talking about what inspired the stories in such an honest way that it couldn’t have come from another writer’s pen. Which brings us to …

4. Write what you know. Sort of. Sometimes

Write what you know is the most common writing tip you’ll find anywhere. It’s nonsense, really, because if we all did that we’d end up with terribly boring novels about writers staring out of windows waiting for inspiration to hit. (If you like those, incidentally, head straight for the literary fiction section of your nearest bookshop.) But King understands that experience is something which can be channelled into your work, and should be at every opportunity. Aspects of his life – addiction, teaching, his near-fatal car accident, rock and roll, ageing – have cropped up in his work over and over, in ways that aren’t always obvious, but often help to drive the story. That’s something every writer can use, because it’s through these truths that real emotions can be writ large on the page.

5. Aim big. Or small

King’s written some mammoth books, and they’re often about mammoth things. The Stand takes readers into an apocalypse, with every stage of it laid out on the page until the final fantastical showdown. It deals with a horror that hits a group of characters twice in their lives, showing us how years and years of experience can change people. And The Dark Tower is a seven (or eight, or more, if you count the short stories set in its world) part series that takes in so many different genres of writing it’s dizzying. When he needs to, King aims really big, and sometimes that’s what you have to do to tell a story. At the other end of the spectrum, some of King’s most enduring stories – Rita Hayworth & Shawshank Redemption, The Mist – have come from his shorter works. He traps small groups of characters in single locations and lets the story play out how it will. The length of the story you’re telling should dictate the size of the book. Doesn’t matter if it’s forty thousand words or two hundred, King doesn’t waste a word.

6. Write all the time. And write a lot

King’s published – wait for it – 55 novels, 11 collections of stories, 5 non-fiction works, 7 novellas and 9 assorted other pieces (including illustrated works and comic books). That’s over a period of 41 years. That’s an average of two books a year. Which is, I must admit, a pretty giddying amount. That’s years of reading (or rereading, if you’re as foolishly in awe of him as I am). But he’s barely stopped for breath. This year has seen three books published by him, which makes me feel a little ashamed. Still, at my current rate of writing, I might catch up with him sometime next century. And while not every book has found the same critical and commercial success, they’ve all got their fans.

7. Voice is just as important as content

King’s a writer who understands that a story needs to begin before it’s actually told. It begins in the voice of the novel: is it first person, or third? Is it past or present tense? Is it told through multiple narrators, or just the one? He’s a master at understanding exactly why each story is told the way it’s told. Sure, he might dress it up as something simple – the story finding the voice it needs, or vice versa – but through his books you can see that he’s tried pretty much everything, and can see why each voice worked with the story he was telling.

8. And Form is just as important as voice

King isn’t really thought of as an experimental novelist, which is grossly unfair. Some of King’s more daring novels have taken on really interesting forms. Be it The Green Mile’s fragmented, serialised narrative; or the dual publication of The Regulators and Desperation – novels which featured the same characters in very different situations, with unsettling parallels between the stories that unfolded for them; or even Carrie’s mixed-media narrative, with sections of the story told as interview or newspaper extract. All of these novels have played with the way they’re presented on the page to find the perfect medium for telling those stories. Really, the lesson here from King is to not be afraid to play.

9. You don’t have to be yourself

Some of King’s greatest works in the early years of his career weren’t published by King himself. They were in the name of Richard Bachman, his slightly grislier pseudonym. The Long Walk, Thinner, The Running Man – these are books that dealt with a nastier side of things than King did in his properly attributed work. Because, maybe it’s good to have a voice that allows us to let the real darkness out, with no judgments. (And then maybe, as King eventually did in The Dark Half, it’s good to kill that voice on the page … )

10. Read On Writing. Now

This is the most important tip in the list. In 2000, King published On Writing, a book that sits in the halfway space between autobiography and writing manual. It’s full of details about his process, about how he wrote his books, channelled his demons and overcame his challenges. It’s one of the few books about writing that are actually worth their salt, mainly because it understands that it’s about a personal experience, and readers might find that useful. There’s no universal truths when it comes to writing. One person’s process would be a nightmare for somebody else. Some people spend years labouring on nearly perfect first drafts; some people get a first draft written in six weeks, and then spend the next year destroying it and rebuilding it. On Writing tells you how King does it, to help you to find your own. Even if you’re not a fan of his books, it’s invaluable to the in-development writer. Heck, it’s invaluable to all writers.

anonymous asked:

Hello! How would you write a dialogue in which a character is freaking out about something? I generally have them word vomit but I don't really like that style. If its too much could you show me an example as well?

Hi!

You could definitely word vomit – especially if your character is hysterical – but that’s not the only way to do it by any means. I know a few other ways.

1. Calmly.
This is strange, considering your character is freaking out, but the freak-out is internal – they’re shutting themselves off due to shock. In this case, they would be quiet, sane, and even if what they’re saying is illogical, it would probably sound reasonable.

“I was right there when she shot him. He dropped like a sack of flour. I figured he was gone as soon as the bullet hit his chest. So now I’ve decided I’m gonna go after her. Right now. And I’m gonna kill her.”
“What? You can’t do that!”
“Sure I can. She killed him, so I kill her. It’s called justice.”
“But- With just your bare hands?”
“The way I feel right now, my bare hands are more than enough.”

Notice how the character who just watched their friend die in front of them isn’t yelling, isn’t stuttering, isn’t getting angry or crying – they’re perfectly calm, almost to the point of complete emotional shutdown.

2. Angrily.
Some people get angry when they lose control and freak out – it scares them, and the fear manifests itself as anger. This type particularly happens when they’re upset about something and other characters aren’t taking it seriously or are shrugging off their concerns.

“No! It’s happening tonight! We don’t have time to think, or weigh things, we need to fucking leave! Now!”
“We can’t. You know that, and you’d remember that, if you were thinking straight-”
“I am thinking straight! It’s you who’s fucked in the head. I don’t give a damn what you think we can and can’t do, we need to clear out of here, right this second.”

As you can see, this character is freaking out – their concerns may or may not have a firm foundation, but obviously they are concerned, and that concern is manifesting itself as fury.

3. By stuttering.
For some people, it’s hard to talk when they panic, because their minds race forward ahead of their mouths and they get tongue-tied. I typically see/use this with more anxious characters, or with characters who aren’t typically good at speaking anyways (in other words, who are uncomfortable with talking).

There are a couple of different ways to stutter:
a. Repeat the beginning of each word.

“I tr-tried to s-save him, but he wuh-wouldn’t l-let me … he knew it was g-going to happen. It’s my f-fault!”

(However, keep in mind that this kind of stuttering is more as if you’re character is crying and trying to talk through sobs and hiccups. Please use it sparingly – it can get old fast.)

b. Repeat words.

“No. No, I don’t know what’s going on, Ricky. Ricky, why would I have any idea? Don’t fucking look at me like that, Ricky. Don’t look at me like I’m lying.”

c. Insert filler sounds: “ah”, “uh”, “um”, and/or curse words.

“I, uh, I- fuck. I,ummm, I think maybe, ah, maybe we should leave?”

For more on stuttering – it can be hard to peg correctly – check out this post.

I hope this helps! If you need anything else, please feel free to ask. - @authors-haven

Drarry Headcanon

for anon (because I couldn’t wait to post this… I’m still on hiatus…)


  • Narcissa and Harry thanking one another for what the other did during the war over letters
  • Narcissa telling Harry that Draco still fawns over him
  • Harry learning more and more about the real Draco
  • and soon, falling for his personality
  • Narcissa setting them up without telling Lucius
  • because she knew he’d be going insane with even more ‘Potter Talk’
  • Draco becoming super flustered when he finds out about what’s happening 
  • because he totally doesn’t still talk about how bad he wants to be Potter’s friend
  • and how they’ve hated each other since the beginning
  • the most awkward first date
  • and an even more awkward second
  • but bonding over old stories from their days at Hogwarts 
  • them finally telling each other about their feelings towards each other during school 
  • Draco breaking down in front of Harry while telling him how bad his rejection felt
  • “I felt as if someone had ripped out my heart and tore it into a million pieces…“
  • Harry describing the guilt and pain he felt after using sectumsempra 
  • “I didn’t mean to hurt you…”
  • Them feeling they need to see each other at least 3 times a week 
  • Harry teaching Draco about muggle things 
  • Draco falling in love with movies
  • Harry putting his arm around Draco as they watch one together 
  • Draco laying his head on Harry’s shoulder just after
  • That first kiss they don’t know who started 
  • but knowing they can’t be apart for very long
  • Draco always staying at Harry’s flat
  • because he’s is afraid to live alone
  • and he’s not quite sure what his father would think 
  • “I don’t think my father will hear about this”
  • During their time off of work, they just like to hang out
  • whether that be visit the shops, make a homemade meal, play a 1 on 1 Quidditch match, or just lay in bed until noon
  • Little inside jokes about each other
  • Draco teasing Harry about his horrible eyesight 
  • “At least I’ll have you to help me around if I ever lose my glasses, Malfoy.”
  • Falling asleep while snuggled up together 
  • Harry visiting Draco at work every chance he gets 
  • and Draco doing the same for Harry
  • Him finally gaining the courage to show Harry his scars
  • Harry tracing over each line with his fingers as he feels the guilt come back
  • “I’m sorry”
  • Draco still warming up to the Weasleys and Granger
  • The Weasleys taking him in as their own and treating him like they did Harry for all of those years
  • both of them being afraid to say what’s really on their mind
  • because they think the other won’t feel the same
  • but Harry gives in first
  • “I love you”
  • Draco feeling butterflies in his stomach 
  • “I love you too”
It’s a [Tinder] Date! (Part 3/3)

Summary: Thinking he needs to find a date, Natasha signs Steve up to Tinder. In Queens, Peter Parker does the same to you. It’s a match!

Word Count: 3,405

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Almost a month later, but this fic is officially done :D I hope you all enjoy this fluffiness. 

Originally posted by mackievanstan


Work managed to distract you enough to not keep looking at the clock every five minutes. Despite part of your brain telling you that there was no way you had a date with Captain America, there was another part that couldn’t help but to hope this was true. And so, you found yourself daydreaming of showing up to the restaurant and seeing him there. What would you even say to him? What kind of greeting would you use? Would you address him as Captain, or maybe Mr. Rogers, or just Steve?

By the time you got home, you had a few outfit options in mind and made a beeline to the bathroom, taking a shower before you got started on getting ready.

Peter came around as you were choosing between four different outfits you had draped on your bed. He helped you picked the one that was form-fitting, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

“We gotta tease him,” he said.

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2

Mind Reader

Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst adjacent, smut, dirty talk, LOTS of language

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I was looking through some REALLY old requests and I came across an idea from @jennalyncarrigan1230 from who knows how long ago. She pitched an idea that I have twisted and LOVE the outcome. I doubt she even remembers sending the ask, but her initial idea sparked this smutty goodness. This took on a life of its own. I haven’t wrote Dean smut or ANY smut in quite some time. This is officially DIRTY. Or at least by my standards it is. Hope you enjoy. ;) Italics & Bold indicate reader’s thoughts.  This has very little plot. Just the poor reader thinking her secret dirty thoughts about Dean only to have them be not so secret anymore.

Feedback Appreciated

Tags at the bottom

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Ink and Kisses

Anon said to moi:

“Omg i want a tattoo artist jungkook!!!!!! 😭😩 smut/fluff/and honestly anything!!!! I just love tattoos artists jungkook but there aren’t alot of those fanfic…. can u help a poor girl out ??💖”

FIRst time trying a Tattoo artist AU. I had to do some reading before this, and JK is sO sexy i s2g. Still weird that I don’t really ever feel like doing the do with him. HOPE YOU ENJOY <3 1,400 Words

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Tattooist au!

Part 1 | Part 2 (FINAL)

Originally posted by nnochu

No one would have ever imagined that hardcore badass Jeon Jungkook, the most well-known tattoo artist in the town, the guy who dropped out to follow his passion, was best friends with beautiful, sweet, top-scoring university student, Y/N. 

Physically, they seemed to be polar opposites. He had dragons inked onto his skin, three piercings on his left ear and two on his right, and always wore black; whilst you were a bright, clean slate – but you knew that was what he loved about you.

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NHL!Bitty, Part XII -  ‘A Stanley Cup Wedding’

The Schooners win game seven and dethrone the defending champion Falconers to claim Seattle’s first national title. 

Eric was definitely not expecting Jack to propose immediately after losing.

(A rework of the ‘Game 7 PVD vs SEA’ prompt that totally retcons some NHL!Bitty stuff, so timeline-wise: the Falconers took the cup Eric’s second year with the Schooners. The Schooners win the following season.)

NHL!Bitty Masterpost




Game Seven. Third period. Eric’s running on adrenaline, blue Gatorade, and rage.

Jack and the rest of the Falconers first line are racing to catch up, but Eric is ‘criminally fast’ (thank you ESPN for the lovely descriptor), and it’s almost too easy to whip the puck to Carter and wait for the siren.

Snowy can’t stop it. The Schooners will win in regulation. 

For a brief, terrifying moment, Eric sees Morin’s breakaway as the death knell of his relationship. He has flashes of Freshman year and he thinks ‘Jack is going to hate me’.

Eric closes his eyes and waits.

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food truck au 1/??

(inspired by my earlier post)

Anyone who knew Jack Zimmermann would laugh at the idea of him even being able to remember the login for his Twitter account.

No one, not even his parents, would ever suspect that he checked his feed every single morning.

Jack didn’t care much for social media; he was too private a person to ever want the world to know where he was or what he was eating at any given moment. In fact, he only followed three accounts: his mother’s, the official Falconers’, and that of Li’l Dicky’s Southern Comforts. The latter was the only one he actually cared about.

See, Jack Zimmermann had a deep, dark secret – he was in love with the mini apple pies that were sold daily at Li’l Dicky’s. It was the only dessert he ever indulged in on a regular basis, and said indulgences were a secret he would take to his grave.

Every morning, Li’l Dicky’s posted their location for the day. Jack knew the general schedule by heart at this point, but some days the truck switched things up, due to weather or construction or event catering, and Twitter was the only way for Jack to know if he would be able to get his apple pie fix.

It didn’t hurt that Eric Bittle, the owner of Li’l Dicky’s, smiled at Jack like the sun shined out of his ass every time he came by. But really, it was the pies Jack couldn’t enough of. Mostly. Probably.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

That 'its lexa' scene killed me, like, clarke looks like she's about to break into pieces....

That scene is as brief as it’s impactful and excruciating. For Clarke, it’s the climax of an emotional journey she had to endure throughout the whole episode and it’s raw to watch and experience and it just leaves me so heartbroken for her.

From the beginning of the episode, we see her being emotionally hammered down again and again and again: Jasper telling her she deserves to die, ALIE!Raven bringing up all her ghosts and making her feel even guiltier about Lexa’s death, Jasper again rejecting her apology. She has her walls up, hasn’t let them down since Lexa’s death, but It’s evident that this all weighs down on her heavily. What makes her especially fragile in this episode is that she has no chance for escapism. Ever since Lexa died, Clarke has kept herself busy/distracted with things she must do, right? First, it’s making sure Aden wins the Conclave and that he honors Lexa’s wish of having Skaikru join the Coalition and being protected. She literally rejects Aden’s offer of having a private moment with Lexa’s body.

She can’t do that, she can’t deal with that pain just yet, it’s too fresh and overwhelming. Having that moment would mean having to process Lexa’s death, having to embrace grief, which she’s not ready to do. Her only option is to ignore it, to hide from it.

After Ontari kills Aden and all the Natblida, Clarke’s focus shifts to making sure Ontari doesn’t become Commander, taking the Flame to Luna and protecting the Flame with her life. It’s her drive throughout 3B. There’s an interesting single-mindedness that characterizes her throughout the rest of the season. She needs to focus on this mission, there is little room for anything else. If she stopped, even for a minute, her feelings would be impossible to avoid. It’s a defense mechanism. She shuts the door on grief and clings to what she has: a distraction (the never-ending list of concerns she has to deal with), a hopeless hope that not everything is lost (the Flame).

But then we get to 311.

It’s a peculiar kind of episode, for most of its runtime taking place in a closed environment. But not only that: in this episode, for a long time the characters are forced to stall. There are few exceptions (Octavia and Monty), but for almost the whole episode we are stuck at Niylah’s trading post with the characters, who are racking their brains as they try to find a solution to save Raven, and waiting. Because there is nowhere to rush to, nothing they can do. Nothing Clarke can do. Even when they devise a plan to try and fry the chip, it’s someone else who has to go out and find what they need to carry out the task, not her. She is, quite simply, stuck. Not only physically, but she is stuck with her thoughts and her feelings. And that has consequences of course.

As I said before, we see Clarke getting progressively closer and closer to her breaking point. She first snaps after the continuous hits at her heart by ALIE!Raven, when she reminds her of all the people that died because of her. That it’s not really Clarke’s fault is irrelevant, Clarke feels that guilt and bears it constantly, and in a moment as tense and delicate as that one, it brings her to lash out. What’s interesting to me is that it’s not an immediate reaction. ALIE!Raven first uses Wells, Charlotte, and Finn and while clearly still affected, Clarke recognizes ALIE!Raven’s strategy and manages to mostly ignore her. But then, she mentions Lexa, and Clarke’s reaction is entirely different. (x)

It’s so different from her previous strained attempts at ignoring what is being said to her that even ALIE notices it, with that head tilt she does when she’s learning something new. Clarke here doesn’t even try to pretend she’s not affected by Lexa’s mention. She directly goes and tells ALIE!Raven to shut up. She looks up the second she hears Lexa’s name, her glare is deadly, her words are seething. She doesn’t wanna hear this, she can’t hear this. Also! This isn’t the first time someone told her she was responsible for Lexa’s death, with Titus telling her he pulled the trigger but it was her fault. You can bet that had a great impact on Clarke and made her only more sensitive to ALIE!Raven’s words.

And the comment about her father’s death is the last straw. So we get her lashing out and literally trying to gag Raven so she doesn’t have to hear this any longer.

The heartbreaking thing is that she pretty much gets no respite. Bellamy takes her place in the room with Raven, but Jasper is immediately there to remind her about Mt Weather and how she killed all those people and Maya. She’s literally on the verge of tears when he rejects her apology and roughly pushes past her.

All this shows she is incredibly close to reaching her limit. All that tension and pain and guilt is like a fire simmering inside her, a fire she has no way to cool down because as I said, she is deprived of almost any distraction. She spends the episode being reminded of what she did and most importantly, of what, who, she lost.

So when Jasper grabs the Flame and is ready to destroy it, Clarke’s walls shatter. Faced with the possibility of losing yet another thing extremely important to her, she has no way of shutting down her pain and grief any longer. (x)

She panics when she realizes what Jasper is about to do. She is frantic in trying to get the Flame back, desperation is written all over her. The possibility of losing the one part of Lexa she has left propels forward that fire of pain and grief. Lexa is gone, this is all she has left of her, and she can’t bear to lose that too. All her restraint, her imposed control over her emotions, is useless in this brief moment. And so…

She doesn’t use logic to try to stop Jasper, it’s her heart here begging him to not take Lexa from her. It’s raw, it’s charged with every emotion ranging from despair to heartbreak, it’s harrowing. For this brief moment, Clarke is stripped down, emotionally bare and vulnerable. She doesn’t avoid her grief, she embraces it. She even arrives to relive details of the moment Lexa died.

Oh, and that “I’m not–” she says immediately after, right before pausing and figuring out how to save Raven. That breaks my heart because I can’t help but wonder what she was going to say. “I’m not making this up… I’m not lying… I’m not crazy.” She needs Jasper to believe her because otherwise, she is going to lose that part of Lexa she still has, however small. The fact that her reaction is so intense and heart-wrenching is only a proof of just how much she loves Lexa and of how much pain and sorrow her death caused to Clarke.

And when eventually Jasper gives the Flame back to her, Clarke treats it like something incredibly precious. She cradles it in her hands, she brings it close to her chest, almost protectively, she keeps her eyes set on it, she is extremely careful in putting it back in the case. She takes her time with everything and if you look at the scene, you can see that from the moment she gets the Flame back to when she places it back in the case, it’s almost like it’s just Clarke and the Flame. She focuses only on that. She’s still got it, she can still hold on to it, to Lexa. And it’s a thin consolation, yes. It’s probably more painful than relieving, because the Flame is at the end of the day a reminder that Lexa is dead and Clarke lost her. 

Clarke is grieving and she should be allowed to go through every stage of her grief, but unfortunately, that is not the case with her. Everything she is feeling is written on her face, every unresolved, painful emotion tied to Lexa’s death. But the moment is gone, and with one last look, she collects herself as best as she can and she goes back to her mission. (x)

To me, this is one of the things that make this entire scene even more devastating. We get a glimpse at the enormity of the pain that Clarke is feeling, we see every visceral emotion she is hiding behind her mask of stoicism, but she isn’t allowed to properly deal with it, and thus, to heal.

Anyway, I made myself sad. To cut it short, the main point of all this is that Clarke loved Lexa immensely and this scene proves it.

lordmushroomkat  asked:

Writing request. Klance. Mutual pining. Supportive mechanical telepathic cat-parents.

man i feel like I could easily write 15 000 words about this haha. Trying to make this idea small is hard, but let’s give it a go. 

“So what do we do? We’re a paladin down now.” Pidge states. It’s a topic they’ve been dancing around. Shiro is gone, and yes of course they will find him again, but until then they can’t just… not form Voltron. 

“Keith takes black. Yeah ok, so that’s resolved.” Pidge continues.

“Are we honestly…” Lance starts to interrupt.

“But there’s STILL five lions.” Pidge shoots Lance a look. She knows he wants to argue the leader Keith point, but that’s another discussion. 

“We need another paladin.” She concludes. The group all stare at each other, not sure of what to suggest. The air is stale. 

“I….” Allura starts. Coran grabs her arm protectively. She turns to him with an understanding smile, pats his hand, and steps out of his grip.

“I will fill in.” Her commanding voice rings in the Lion’s hangar. Hunk nervously wrings his hands. Keith looks skeptical. 

“Princess, we need you to…”

“Who else do we have?!” Allura implores. “No one knows the lions like I do. I’m already a part of this team, so it’ll be easier for me to bond than some outsider!”  

The others all share a look. It had to be Allura. Of course it did. But it was a shame that it had to come to this. 

“Who will you pilot?” Hunk moves the discussion forward. Allura smiles and taps her chin thoughtfully. Her eyes move around to look at all the lions. She sighs at a fond memory. 

“My father was the red paladin, and if Keith is piloting black then…” Allura steps towards the red lion. She smiles and places her hand on its barrier. It vibrates under her touch, but does not break.

“It just seems logical.” There’s fondness in her blue eyes. She leans forward and places both palms on the barrier.

“Of course there is the issue of the red lion being the most temperamental so…” Allura laughs. The barrier doesn’t budge under her. Still keeping her out. Keith shakes his head. 

“She doesn’t like it when you call her that.” He sings.

Allura winces. She pats the barrier gently. 

“Ah, sorry girl. I didn’t mean it.” She coos. “I understand how important your paladin is. I know how much you need to trust them. I don’t want to push, but please… please I need you to…” Allura pauses. Her mouth goes taut. She stares at the giant beast in front of her trying to sense it. She leans against the barrier with a frustrated sigh. 

“How did you do this, Keith? I can tell this isn’t working at all.”

“I blasted myself out of an airlock if you must know.”

“Guys, guys,” Lance holds up his hands. “You’re going about this all wrong. For blue and I…. it was like love at first sight!” Lance saunters over to where Allura stands. 

“Your lion is your lady, and she has to know that you are going to love and respect her. You can’t grovel, you gotta woo her.” Lance stands next to Allura. 

“Mind if I show you?” He grins. Allura rolls her eyes.

“Oh yes please. Demonstrate for all of us.” 

Lance rises to the bait. He clears his throat. 

“Hello Red, you look radiant as always. Would it be ok if I spent the evening with you?” He raises his hand to knock on the barrier. 

He immediately falls through. With a vibration and a crackle, he stumbles into the red lions perimeter. He catches himself before he eats cement. He turns to beam at everyone. They look on with disbelief. Particularly Keith.

“See!” Lance exclaims happily. His voice sounds distant and crackly inside the barrier. “Just like that!” He turns to shoot finger guns at the red lion. “Thanks red, you’re beautiful. i love you. Ok Allura, if you just want to…”

Lance bumps against the barrier.

He stares at it in confusion. He tries to step forward and bumps against it once more.

‘What…?” He whispers. 

“Oh no…” Allura stares. Pidge’s eyes widen. Keith starts to look manic. 

Allura, Hunk and Pidge all touch the barrier. None of them can get in.

And Lance can’t get out.

Lance starts to push harder against the barrier. 

“Guys, I can’t…. how do I…?”

“Lance, Lance…” Allura shakes her head. She holds his gaze through the barrier. 

“She’s chosen you.”

Lance’s chest goes cold. He turns over his shoulder to look at the monstrous lion. The red glow around him is bright and hurts his eyes. Nothing like the soothing aura of Blue.

“What?! No! No! Nononono! Blue’s my lion! I’m not giving her up!” Lance beats on the barrier. it flickers underneath his fists. 

“Let me out! Keith! Come talk to your lion! Get me out of here! Tell her I can’t do this! I WON’T do this!”

“Lance, it’s ok. I’m coming I’ll…” Keith smacks into the barrier. So confident that it would peel away for him, that he hadn’t even tried to slow down. He rubs his knee that collided and hisses. He raises his hand to the barrier and pushes. It firmly pushes back. 

“Lance…” He breathily whispers. Lance places his palm opposite Keith’s, so they look like they are touching, but the barrier crackles firmly between them.

“I can’t get in.” His breath shakes with emotion. “She wants you. She’s chosen you.”

Lance blinks away tears. 

“B…but Blue. Blue’s mine. No one can….”

Soft footfalls echo across the hangar. Allura has taken off and runs towards where Blue stands. At a full sprint, she charges forwards and Blue’s barrier easily dissolves around her.

“Alright!” Alurra gives a victorious cheer. Blue lurches forward, opening its mouth ready for Allura to board. 

Lance’s heart breaks. He falls forward. Keith worries his lip and presses himself as close to Lance as he can. Hunk and Pidge wisely walk away. 

“Lance. Lance, I’m so sorry.” Keith whispers. His voice rattles in the comms of Lance’s helmet. 

“But out of everyone here…Red has chosen you. She needs you. Can’t you feel her?”

“But she’s yours, Keith. She’s yours and you’re hers.” Lance’s voice trembles. He looks up into Keith’s face. 

“I know. And she’ll always be mine so….” Keith swallows. “I’ll need you to take really good care of her. She’s trusting you, Lance. I’m trusting you.” Keith looks up with glassy eyes. Blue may have let Allura in, but here Red was actively locking her own paladin out. A surge of sympathy courses through Lance.

“Keith, I’ll…”

Metallic whirring causes lance to turn. Red has bowed down and opened her mouth wide, inviting Lance in.

“You have to go.” Keith states and turns to leave. Lance goes to grab him, but his hand smacks painfully against the barrier.

“Keith wait!” He calls. Keith pauses. His eyebrows knit together and he waits. Lance steps back from the barrier with a frustrated sigh. 

“If I…If I could hug you I would.” He announces. Keith’s eyes widen. 

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even more underrated Iconic™ six of crows/crooked kingdom moments

part i // part ii

  • kaz: man with a knife, remember?
    jes: man with a gun!
    kaz: t(ಠ‿ಠ)t
  • the entire who-has-the-biggest-price-on-their-head competition. including, but not limited to: jesper’s disappointment at being worth ‘only’ 30,000 kruge. matthias’ disdain for kaz’s price of 100,000 kruge. kaz acting nonchalant about it all but you know he’s reveling in his spot as No. 1 Wanted Criminal
  • nina “beguiling” matthias; aka dancing around him and poking his chest
  • jes: ”sure, im skinny, but i stay drier in the rain.“
    matt: ”how?”
    jes: “less falls on me.”
    matt: why tf are all you people so weird
  • oYSTERS, MISS?? (made Iconic by the audiobook but still)
  • kaz just wants to run his hands through inej’s hair and get drunk on her laugh,,,,, boi u in so deep
  • strontium chloride
  • everything about colm ‘if I’m already aiding, i may as well abet’ fahey and his hat
  • when matthias, kuwei, and kaz, aka Ketterdam’s Most Wanted, walked into the church of barter under protection of ketterdam law for kuwei’s auction and literally the entire world went nuts bc they couldn’t do anything about it
  • when inej killed that poisonous lizard thingy in hellgate in the blink of an eye and matthias was like ‘yeah this one’s a demon too’
  • “I definitely did not tell them to blow up the lab”
  • wylan: my father is not evil
    wylan: *goes to saint hilde, sees what his father did to his mother, has an emotional breakdown in the middle of a road*
    wylan: my father is the satan devil incarnate
  • #ham4crows!! i still cant believe leigh used ‘outgunned and outmanned’ in crooked kingdom
  • ‘moose is probably your native tongue’
  • when kaz went after the black tips to get inej and spilled “enough blood to paint a barn red” #getbrekked
  • “you have crumbs on your cleavage”
    “don’t care" incredible.
  • inej’s brass knuckles get ’em girl
  • when kaz fought the dregs and he ripped two rusty nails out of an axe shaft and used them to gouge out a man’s throat #getbrekked #fightagangdownastaircase 
  • setting raisins on fire
  • nina; refusing to wake up: “the dead request five more minutes
  • WYLAN’S INTERROGATION (!!!) as if i didn’t need to hate Van Eck more. as if i didn’t need to have more feelings about wylan and the people that he loves. as if i didn’t need to be more concerned that the Plan was going to fall through the cracks yet again. as if i  d i d n ‘ t
  • ‘be still, little bumblebee’ is…… an actual song in the grishaverse.
  •  kaz,,,,,, c a m l y and p r e c i s e l y sliced up oomen’s face, rAMMED HIS FINGERS INTO HIS EYE SOCKET, RIPPED OUT his en t i r e eyeball from the root, and shoved a handkerchief wet with oomen’s own spit into the hole. without batting an eye. the ultimate #getbrekked.
Kiwi, Though.

A/N: this is a bit of an extension of the birthday bows/valentine woes world, but certainly functions as a stand alone piece.  thank you for the request*, nonny 😘

this is a very, very smutty, dirty piece about anal so if that’s not your thing, turn back now. there’s a lot of movement in this, so please offer me a bit of suspension of disbelief and just know that harry and his missus did everything they needed to in order to be clean and safe in this encounter.

*requests are currently closed


He didn’t mean it. Really, he didn’t. Well, he did, but he didn’t. And he certainly didn’t mean it anymore. Not now. Not now that you were hanging it over his head and torturing him with it.

It had been just another nightly FaceTime before bed from miles and miles apart; well bedtime for you, the night had only just started in Jamaica. And it was just typical banter to hide the sour feeling due to return once you hung up. And it was just a sly comment to rile you up, get you excited to join him in Jamaica in a few days.

“Yeh not gonna be able to keep yeh hands off me, love.” And that would have been enough, but Harry often struggled when it came to shutting his big, stupid mouth. “Not even if yeh wanted.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise, mouth ajar with incredulity. “Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I can keep my hands to myself much better than you can, H.”

“Right.” A cocky smirk crossed his lips. “Always got yeh hands all over me, kitten, ’specially when we’re reunited. S’never enough with you. Keep me up all night–satisfy your every need–but then yeh right back on me in the mornin’. Insatiable, you are.”

“If I’m insatiable, what’s that make you?!” Sure, he was right; you liked a few sleepless nights upon reunion, enjoyed testing the limits of your bodies, but it’s not like he protested. It’s not like he didn’t want to explore your body, relearn your inner workings mind, body and soul and try a few new things, too.

“Sex slave. At your every beck and call, kitten.” He was pleased with himself, grinning ear-to-ear as he teased you.

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anonymous asked:

So I got a question about the sparing and padding post that you recently made. I like to read Assassin's Creed fanfictions that shows Altair (the main character) in his early years, which often includes his training to be an assassin. In most of these fics they focus more on the sword and knife fighting but some does include the hand to hand fighting too (without protection). So realistically what kind of injuries would someone training without any kind of protection should expect?

Death.

I’m only sort of kidding, because I know the kinds of fanfics you’re talking about and like every writer trying to be edgy, they have them spar without protections and with live weapons. There’s a reason why we use practice weapons during training and in sparring matches, where rules are in play. 

Now, the Assassin’s Creed variant of the Hashashin live for that super edgy, very stupid state of supposed badass where one must constantly prove their worth so I totally believe they’d do it. I’d also believe this would lead to an incredibly high turnover with their recruits, which is not sustainable in the real world.

I’m going to point out here that the “Asassins” or Hashashin were real. That’s the etymology for the word. The suicide jumping is also real and, instead of landing on bales of hay, they jumped to their deaths. There are a couple of stories about that piece of the order. The real Assassins were religious fanatics. These stories are not so much a testament to the quality of their training so much as their fanaticism.

For what it’s worth, the Knights Templar were also real and a prominent militant order up until they were excommunicated by the Pope.

The history of both groups is actually far more interesting than the Assassin’s Creed franchise. This is a persistent problem with the games, they invariably include historical figures who are far, far, far more interesting, competent, and badass than we’re presented with. If you encounter a historical personage in an Assassin’s Creed game, remind yourself of this simple fact: the real one is about 200x more awesome. It’s this weird inverse where the reality consistently surpasses the fiction. (Black Flag, I have my eye on you. Honestly, how do you mess up Stede Bonnet, The Gentleman Pirate? And that’s the least of your sins!)

The more serious answer is that unless you’re training with weapons or making an active effort to hit each other, in the real world we don’t train using pads on the regular. The pads are so you can essentially go full out against another person under controlled circumstances and then come back for training tomorrow. If your students are constantly getting injured that hampers their ability to train, then they fall behind and you turn out fewer fighters. Injuries on the training floor should not be a common occurrence.

Barring accidents and mishaps, if you’re simply practicing your techniques on your own or against a wooden dummy then all you should expect afterwards is standard muscle pain (maybe some bruising). The same should be true for practice with human opponents (which is not sparring) and sparring itself.

Anything else is a waste of time, energy, and resources.

Remember, injuries take time to heal and if you’re prepping someone to go out and murder that’s time you don’t have.

In the land of “edgy training”, try to remember that you want evil as opposed to incompetence.

The vast majority of training, like the kinds you listed, are edgy incompetence. They don’t serve a purpose other than sadism and your students don’t learn anything. Unfortunately, cruelty on its own doesn’t teach much (the Spartans were abusive jerks, but their methods worked). The beat up, abuse them, cruelty methodology simply doesn’t work unless you understand the kinds that work and, from a storytelling perspective, it also isn’t interesting.

The kind of “edgy training” you see in most stories is a round of Kinder’s First. People mimicking what Hollywood has taught them or what they’ve seen in fiction elsewhere. The assumption in this line of thinking is that the more brutal the training then the more dangerous the fighter. This isn’t true. More importantly, there are much better ways to sadistically mess with your students’ (and audience’s) heads.

1) Depending on your teaching style, you may murder a student on occasion to motivate the others. However, the control over who lives or dies remains with the instructor because the instructor is god. If a student gets a bright idea to kill another student without your approval, kill them.

2) Live weapons should never be used by students on each other except as a graduation gift. The graduation gift being only one of them will be accepted into the Order, so prove your worth. (In the real world, you’ll probably need them both but in fantasy land… why not?)

3) Use the threat of death to keep your students from getting comfortable, make good on this promise every so often. Bring in an established warrior to kill off your best student in demonstration to the others. (Why? It reminds them at no point are they safe.)

4) Encourage your students to break the rules, punish them severely if caught. (Playing favorites? Punish them more, push them harder.)

5) Limit their resources. Make them fight each other for their food. Survival isn’t a given. It’s earned.

6) In the early days, force them into physical exhaustion. Keep them up late. Wake them early. Limit their sleep to the minimum of hours they need to stay functional. Tired minds are easier to manipulate.

7) Force them into direct conflict with each other. There’s never a solid baseline they can achieve, and they’re always watching over their shoulder. Furthermore they never become loyal to each other. They are only loyal to you. Appeasing their teacher is their only means of survival.

8) Got a problem child who won’t play along? Don’t make an example of them. No, no, make them your new favorite. That’ll turn the others on them, and they’ll solve the problem for you.

9) Change the goalposts regularly, so they never know what to expect.

10) You’ve got someone who doesn’t want to participate? Say okay. When others move to join them, punish those students viciously instead. Do it in front of the class and for everyone to see. (This is called: creating heroes and wrecking them.)

11) Have your students inform on each other.

If this is starting to sound like abuse, well.. you’re right. It is. It also very successful in terms of achieving its goal. The goal is attacking the student’s perceptions, beliefs, and their understanding of the world while reshaping them into who you want them to be.

Real cruelty is clever and inventive. It is also patient. Like a good interrogator, this teacher will leave their students so they’re never sure of exactly what the teacher wants or how to please them. They give them hope, then snatch it away. Someone who excels at social manipulation will use this position of power to maneuver their students feelings and their expectations, indirectly point them at certain targets by stoking negative feeling such as jealousy, paranoia, anger, or fear. In the other hand, those rare moments of kindness offered will ensure gratitude. When a good teacher wants their uncooperative students to band together, they make themselves the target the students need to fight against. The abusive teacher does the opposite. They ensure they are the only boat in the storm and turn their charges on each other. They make sure their students never know what to expect. This includes going hot and cold. They change up to batter expectations, handle some problems themselves and let the students handle others.

An experienced teacher will have seen plenty of student characters, all the versions you can imagine. A good one will break the problem kids to bridle without them ever realizing it happened, and they exit the experience more hardcore than the ones who invested themselves honestly. The purpose of “brutal training” isn’t to churn out a better warrior. It’s to break the individual down so you can reshape their mind and ensure the weapon you’ve created is loyal to you. That level of conditioning is very difficult to break. You’ve re-oriented their entire training into status positions they’ve fought for and earned. This training becomes a foundation for their identity, and you’re not going to get it out of them.

So, before invoking the trope, choose wisely and understand the purpose for what it is. Actively abusive training is done with the express intent to recondition and brainwash. More than that, in competent hands, it’ll snap the “rebellious teenage hero” contingent like twigs.

As a member of a fanatical cult, Altair is a direct example of this sort of training writ large.

-Michi

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Angel in the Darkness pt.5

Originally posted by aestheticvbts

Summary: After a patient urgently pleads you to go and help a friend of his, you naively agree to it. Little did you know, that you would get more than what you agreed to, when he leads you to a brothel, to help a dangerous prostitute named Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Jin, but not romantically)

Genre: Smut (M), angst, mafia!au, prostitution!au

A/N:This is a dark and filthy story! Graphic descriptions of sex (masturbating, etc), heavy dom/sub undertones, drug use, vulgar language use……(alot of smut comes in later) This is a mature read! You have been warned!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 



The bright sunlight behind the curtains, stirs you awake from your deep sleep. There’s a faint smile stretched upon your lips, as you feel as if you’ve had one of the best naps in the longest of times. Your eyes are still closed shut as you try to flex your stiff muscles; only you can’t.

As soon as you tried to lift your arms, you hit something very hard and muscular. Huh? That’s weird. You can also feel that your legs are entangled, and something wrapped around your waist.

You didn’t mind the feeling, as you were still too tired to process things, and because it brought great warmth, but then you heard it; a faint grunt. Your eyes instantly shoot open, and you blush hard when you realize you’re wrapped up into Jungkook.

His face is mere centimeters away from yours, and his eyes are still closed shut, indicating he’s still asleep. You can feel his hot breath, gently tickling your red face, as his hair is all over. You peer downwards and see that his left arm is securely wrapped around your waist, as both of you were laying down on your sides. His long, thick legs were clumsily tangled with yours, and you were finding it hard to breathe since you were so close to him.

OH MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!?!

Keep reading

The Train

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 4201

Prompt: Y/N walks in, and Harry notices she’s wearing yellow again, this time it’s a yellow sweater with a pair of dark skinny jeans and brown ankle boots, her hair is pulled back into a pony tail with a white scrunchie with little smiling suns and he swears that he has to squint to look at her. “Oh! I know you-you’re the guy from the train,” Y/N beams, “Harry, right?” she sets down the tray of muffins.

 “I didn’t tell you my name,” Harry snaps.

 Y/N pouts, “well yeah, but I’m also not stupid,” she says. 

“Are you joining us today Harry?” the man asked, “I’m Seth, I run the group.”

“Why else would I fucking be here,” Harry grumbled.

 Y/N grabs a muffin, ignoring Harry’s sour attitude, “here, they’re made with love,” she smiled, holding out the blueberry muffin.

 “Fuck off,” Harry says. He watches as her smile fades and the glint in her eyes seems to disappear, for a split second Harry feels like a dick, but then he realizes he doesn’t care and Y/N should just shove the muffin up her ass.


Harry was annoyed.

It really hadn’t been his day at all. His morning was terrible, he woke up next to a blonde and he tried really hard to remember her name-only to fail. When he asked her to leave she insisted on making breakfast, to which Harry responded with “feel free to grab something and leave” and then he proceeded to shower. When he got out, the unknown girl stood in his kitchen making herself a smoothie and toast. Her red lips in a pout, “come on, you can’t be in that big of a rush,” Harry ended up calling security, she was crazy.

When he went into the studio he was blank, the songs he did come in with were rejected and he couldn’t find the energy or muse to write another one. He was out of inspiration, nothing amused Harry anymore. He found himself not enjoying the things he used to love, drinks seemed to be the only thing that made him feel something (and it was only for a little bit). He didn’t enjoy being surrounded by his friends and family, his love for writing was slipping through the cracks, and his energy was fading.

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Birthday Sex ~ Jimin

Originally posted by kpopidolaegyooo


Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1,528 Words

SMUT WARNING

As soon as the clock turned 12, Jimin was all over you. He pulled you into his arms and didn’t let go, wishing you a happy birthday and continued talking about how thankful he is for you.

“Jimin…” You whine, trying to pull away from his grasp. He ignored you and started bouncing the leg you were sitting on.

“Yah, listen to me.” He sighed and squeezed onto your hips. He definitely caught your full attention as soon as he started moving his leg.

You looked at him as he was biting his lip. You really had no idea that Jimin was just talking about treating you with birthday sex and taking you out for dinner later.

He stopped his leg and leaned in for a kiss, as soon as your lips touched you let out a soft moan. No matter how many times you kissed, the feeling of his lips never got old. They were so soft and plump, he looked so submissive when they were red and swollen and he was slightly panting. But this was about you tonight and Jimin was going to make sure you knew that even though it was your birthday, he was still in charge and was gonna treat you tonight.

As the kiss deepened, his hands went to your shirt and unbuttoned it, revealing your dark lace bra. He pulled away and smirked as you removed your shirt, “Mm.. such a good girl. Even on your birthday. Don’t you think you deserve a treat today?”

“Yes Jimin…”

He pulled you onto his lap and leaned forward and latched his lips onto your neck, sucking on the soft skin, leaving trails of his mark behind. You started grinding into him, trying to relieve some of the tension and get some kind of action going. As Jimin bit down onto the skin, you let out a small moan and moved slightly faster while grinding on him.

He’s always been confident while with you, you always let him know how good he is and it just boosts his ego. He pulled away and admired his work, his hands trailed to your hips and he held onto while you slightly pleasured you both on his lap. You unhooked your bra and threw it onto the floor, “Jimin… I need you.”

He picked you up and moved you to your bed. You laid back and he quickly got to pulling off your shorts and panties. He spread your legs open and slowly ran a finger over your entrance, you wetness slid out onto his finger, coating him already and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

His thumb slowly stroked your clit, “(Y/N), can you do what you did last time?”

You quickly nodded, needing Jimin to touch you in any way possible, to give you some relief.

He slid one finger into your opening and pushed it deep before curling it inside of you. You whimpered and pushed against his finger, making it go even deeper. Jimin curled it a few times before pulling it out, only to push another finger in. You prepared yourself as he slowly curled his fingers, getting you ready for the harsh, but amazing, fingering he was about to give you. He raised his eyebrows, asking if he was okay to go and you nodded.

He quickly curled his two fingers causing you to moan loudly. He used some strength and pounded you with his fingers. He pushed them in as deep as he could and curled them as fast as he could, right against that spot that always gets you going.

“Oh fuck! Jimin!” You cried as he quickly pulled his fingers out of you, a trail of your liquids following suit.

“There you go, baby!” He praised, watching as you squirted all over the sheets. He didn’t even mind the mess and pushed his fingers in again, curling then hard and fast. He kept this going longer this time and before he even pulled out his fingers, you squirted uncontrollably.

You whined as you felt the wetness soaking the sheets underneath you. The sensation was warm and you could feel Jimin was trying to move his fingers faster. As he finally pulled them out, you squirted more, and it landed on his shirt, soaking it in the process.

“Such a good girl.” He moaned out as he ran his fingers over your clit. You shivered and pulled on his hair.

“Jimin, your mouth… Please..!” You begged, spreading your legs open wide for him to see.

Without any warning he leans down and latches his plump lips onto your clit. You moan loudly and pull on his hair as he quickly licks your clit. Jimin was so skilled with his mouth and it was impossible to last for long. His arms hooked underneath your thighs and pulled you even closer to his mouth. He sucked harshly on your clit, and that had you coming in less than a minute.

He groaned against you, the vibrations making you even more sensitive as he licked up your cum. Even after that orgasm, he didn’t stop and kept licking from your entrance to your clit, not able to get enough of your taste.

“J-Jimin! Stop!” You whimper, trying to push him away with your shaky hands. He holds your legs in place as he continues to quickly lick over your clit. Your hands grab onto his black hair to try to steady yourself.

“Ah! Fuck!” You yelp and try to calm yourself as you felt the slight tingling sensation in the bottom of your stomach before releasing from his mouth again. He sucked on your clit and shook his head from left to right, causing you to jerk your hips up and for your eyes to water.

“Please Jimin… I can’t..!” You beg and he finally stops his abuse on your poor clit after sucking up all of your sweet cum.

“You taste so good baby, but i cant wait to see what we taste like together. You ready for my cock?” He asks while quickly undressing himself, giving you a moment to come down from your high.

“Yes.. Just please.. Hurry up!” You whine and quickly help him line himself up with your entrance. Your hands go to his back and pull him to you so he pushes into you. Your faces twist with pleasure as your walls clench around him, enveloping his cock in the wet warmness of your pussy.

“Shit (Y/N). Always so tight for my cock.” He grunts as he starts thrusting into you at a good pace. His skin slightly brushed against your clit everytime he thrust and you were getting close again.

“You like that (Y/N)?” He asks right after one particularly hard thrust.

“Yes! Yes! Please Jimin, don’t stop!” You beg and he smirks while pounding into you. Your walls clench before you let go.

Your walls clenched and released around him and your nails dragged down his back. Before you could even come down from your high, Jimin flipped you around and started thrusting into you from behind. The overstimulation made it hard to keep yourself up so he pulled you up by your hair. Your back was pressed against his chest and his hand was gripping your throat.

“You like that baby? When I fuck your little pussy and choke you? Huh?” He growls, slightly squeezing harder as he got closer to his high.

“Yes Jimin, I love it,” you choke out the words as your air was getting cut off. It added to the pleasure and rushed your body to reach its next orgasm. Jimin thrust one last time before releasing his hot seed into your throbbing pussy. You cried out as you tightened around him again, legs shaking from the intense orgasm. He let go of your throat and you gasped for air.

He slowly pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed, “Holy shit babygirl. You okay?” He looked over at you laying on the side of him catching your breath.

You nodded and rolled over onto his chest, “My fucking legs Park Jimin. They’re sore as fuck.”

He laughed and played with some of your hair, admiring you in the process. “You were the one who said you wanted to fuck for your birthday.”

You pouted but leaned up and softly kissed him on the lips, “Thank you baby. That’s the best fuck we’ve ever had.”

He smiled and moved his hands down to your ass and softly squeezed, before rubbing it. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“So we should prob-” You were cut off as Jimin’s hand harshly slapped your ass. He smirked as you yelped and quickly sat up.

“You’re always supposed to get your ass slapped on your birthday,” he said with a smug look on his face.

“No, not in my world.”

He laughed and pulled you back down and held you down with his left hand while his right hand rubbed your ass slowly.

“21 more to go.” He said, while his hand came down again, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“I fucking hate you Park Jimin!”

We Are Young: Chapter 5

Throne of Glass High School AU

Summary: Senior Rowan Whitethorn is new to town. It doesn’t take him long to get use to a new school, make new friends, even join the local hockey team. But it also doesn’t take him long to meet sophomore and figure skater Aelin Galathynius. And it doesn’t take him long to realize one thing; he can’t stand her.

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Where’s my bra?

That was the only thought running through Aelin’s head as she stood there, in the middle of Rowan’s bedroom. With Rowan sitting in his bed, shirtless.

Obviously there were more important matters at hand.

An eerie silence draped over the room. Neither one of them spoke, neither one of them even knew what to say. And, if she was being honest, Aelin was half afraid that if she opened her mouth, she may actually be sick.

She tried to work around the fog that laced her memoires. She tried to think of what the hell happened last night. More importantly, how she came to be standing before Rowan in just her underwear. But she was coming up empty. Everything was a big drunken blur. The last thing she remembered was her and Fenrys kicking Dorian and Manon’s asses at beer pong - and even that was fuzzy.

Where’s my bra? And pants.

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