rolls into the corner

I made my players cry over an orc

*standard fetch quest leads players to cave with orcs in it. There are 3 orcs*

Orc 3: rolls nat 1 and hits orc 1

Orc 1 rolls nat 1 and hits himself l, proceeds to hide in corner and cry(he’s had a bad day)

Paladin: rolls nat 1 and accidentally hits orc 1 and kills him

I let the orc make death saving throws, but he failed and died. Upon looting, they found a hand drawn picture of the orc’s puppy

My players needed a few minutes to gather their emotions…


Pairing: Sam x Reader (set somewhere around season 7)

Word Count: 8,300 (longest fic I’ve ever written)

Warnings: age difference (reader is 19, Sam is 28), first time!reader, gentle!Sam, light dom!Sam, language, dirty talk, oral sex, fingering, brief handjob, light praise!kink, multiple orgasms.

A/N: I co-wrote this with a friend, but she doesn’t have a Tumblr so I can’t tag her.

Read on AO3

“God, I hate vampires,” you say, flopping into your makeshift bed on a red and brown loveseat. You’ve been working a vampire case with Sam alone for the past week and the creatures you just destroyed are still and always will be a pain in the ass for you to kill, even with 6’4 backup.

Sam watches you roll onto your back and smiles, the right corner of his mouth turning up into a smile as he grabs a plain gray shirt and black sweats and walks to the bathroom. “They’re vampires, what do you expect them to do, hand over themselves willingly?” He says sarcastically.

“It’s still a pain. I don’t know how you guys do it so well,” You respond, burying your face in the single, flat pillow buried against the back of the loveseat.

“It takes practice,” Sam replies casually. “Like everything else you learn.”

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The Beatles, Keith Richards, Eric Clapton, The Who, The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, Roger Daltrey, Elton John, Harrison Ford, Michael Caine and Anjanette Comer © Terry O'Neill

11 p.m. is for single mothers
who cradle a glass of wine in their fingers
and wait for the sound of a child crying
they hope will never come—
it always does.

12 a.m. is for high school students
to do homework they didn’t have time to do
after lacrosse practice and dance rehearsal—
they yearn to rest their tired eyes
but cannot.

1 a.m. is for sneaking into your bedroom
on a school night at seventeen,
reminding yourself how tired
you will be in the morning,
convincing yourself it was worth it.

2 a.m. is for star-crossed lovers
rolling in bed sheets smelling of
alcohol and tragic dreams that
ironically lull them to sleep.

3 a.m. is for hopeless romantics
wishing under late-night skies
for someone to talk to,
for someone who gets it.

And all of those people think
they’ve got it bad, but
when 4 a.m. rolls around the corner,
the past sinks into your veins—

4 a.m. is too late for anyone to save you,
for when 4 a.m. tells you,
“You can’t do this anymore,”
you believe it.

—  4 a.m.


It was 3am when you awoke, to be quite honest you were going to go back to sleep but you didn’t because you soon realized you weren’t in your bed. In fact, you weren’t even in your own house.

You were tied to a chair, in a house you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t run down it just looked like a normal family house.
Taking in your surroundings you started to shuffle about trying to free yourself.

“There’s no point in trying y/n"Theo smirked as he walked around the corner revealing himself.

You rolled your eyes.
"Of course it’s you"you mumbled as you slumped back in the seat.

"How did you do it this time huh Theo? What hid in my closet and kidnapped me when I was fast asleep?"You retorted.

"No, I actually hid in your attic"he replied.

"Idiot"you mumbled.
Theo reached into his back pocket and pulled out a knife.

"Oh give it a rest Theo, if you wanted me dead you would have done it ages ago"you said.

"Who said I wanted you dead"he whispered against your ear.

"Well you want something, and I’m not giving it to you. Scott’s pack stick together and I’m part of that pack so I’m not going to help you”

“You wouldn’t know anything about that though would you, you’ve never been part of a pack, you’ve never had your own that’s why you tried taking Scott’s"you smirked, knowing that you were hitting a nerve.

He rushed towards you and held the knife against your throat.
"One more word y/n"Theo said through gritted teeth.

"You won’t hurt me”

“How do you know?"he pressed the knife closer.

You cocked your head to the side.
"You like me, that’s why. Me and you met first and you thought that we could be together but I’m not one of the bad guys Theo, it’s not going to work”
Theo looked down at the floor after your response.

“God damn it y/n!!"he shouted as he threw the knife onto the ground.


Claire in every episode of Outlander1x07 The Wedding

You forget your life after awhile, the life you had before. Things you cherish and hold dear are like pearls on a string. Cut the knot, they scatter across the floor, rolling into dark corners, never to be found again. So you move on. And eventually you forget what the pearls even looked like. Or at least you try.

im broken, aren’t you?

so i heard someone needed angst???

here’s a bomb drop have fun.

Keith swung his bayard around, blocking a laser and ducking behind a pillar.

“Lance, buddy, I need your backup!” He called into the comm and heard a noise of agreement, and then swung back around into the fight. He slashed and rolled, taking down another few soldiers. He ducked into another small corner where he could take a minute to breathe and shake his head, because god his ears were itchy. He must have left shampoo in his hair or something.

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Addiction (Jiyong-4)

Genre: Smut

Part One  Part Two Part Three Part Five

Mino carressed the soft skin on your belly while planting tender kisses on your neck. The action making you melt into complete oblivion. Every problem, every thought, every memory drifted for you mind. His touch even made you forget your name.Every move that he made was to make sure that you knew he loved you. He touched your body like it was a delicate masterpiece. He looked at you like you were a goddess that a mortal like him was lucky to have. He saw no one but you. 

You responded to his touches and laced your fingers through his silky hair, pulling his face towards yours. The sweet taste of his lips made your eyes roll back and made your grip on his hair tighten. You felt the corners of his lips quirk up at the way just a kiss could get you riled up. His tongue swiped your bottom lip asking a silent question which you said yes to. He skillfully deepened the kiss giving you full access to the wonders of his mouth. Although your tongues danced against eachothers it wasn’t sloppy or rough or messy, or anything like that. The kiss wasn’t dirty and expecting something more, your kiss was gentle and passionate. 

Mino pulled away but kept his forehead pressed against yours. The two of you tried to catch your breath. 

Originally posted by ssonqs-archived


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The Deal

My palms are sweaty. Why now? I should be graduating in a couple weeks.

I stare at the thing that looks like a mouse peeking out from the hole in my dorm wall. It is too calm. Around it’s neck is tied a small rolled note. I know I shouldn’t touch it. I shouldn’t even LOOK at it. I have been here long enough to know these things.

But I have never been good at following rules and I am compelled. I hold my hand out to the unafraid creature and take the rolled paper, gesturing towards a bowl of sweet cream in the corner.The mouse dips his muzzle in acknowledgement and scurries off towards the offering.

The writing makes ny head spin so that it’s hard to read. It is English, but something about the way it is written… the unidentifiable material it is written with… by the time I think I have grasped what makes it “wrong” the idea of it’s wrongness has already fled from my brain. I focus on the message

I could wretch with fear but instead I am frozen. The memories flood me…

Four years ago I was a poor, struggling art student. I could barely afford my meals and art supplies. I always made sure to have gifts for Them though… gifts and a ward in the form of an old iron chess piece.

I was terrible at this. I saw students all around me filled with inspiration in this ever shifting, vaguely magical place… but it just couldn’t reach me. I was a second rate artist at best with no good ideas. I would never succeed. I was inconsolable. I went against everything I knew and visited the crossroads, knowing that somehow, someone would be there to ease my troubles.

I pleaded for inspiration. For skill. For ability beyond the natural when it came to creating beautiful art. The stranger smiled and nodded at me. I fell to my knees “thank you! Thank you! How can I repay you?” The stranger was gone by the time the relieved tears were cleared from my vision.

The years passed fairly smoothly. I became top of my classes. I sold my paintings at shows with ease. I was praised as a genius by critics. My fellow students grew distant from me though. I liked to think they were just jealous but in my heart I saw their true fear. None would take my offerings of assistance and none would come near me without clutching something hidden in their pockets. I tried to prove I was not fae by holding on to my own iron knickknack but it soothed nobody. Eventually they wouldn’t even look at me.

I was lonely, devoid of company except for the unseen eyes I always felt on me when I walked near the forest or in darkened, vacant halls.

Now, nearing graduation I had begun to think the others were foolish, that the Gentry were not so frightening. After all, they had helped me… until that little rodent showed up…

The words on the unrolled paper echo in my head over and over. Though it is written I can somehow almost hear the dark, playful voice speaking the phrase in a singsong tone …“You still owe me”

And suddenly I know I will not graduate. Suddenly I know I may never see my home, or indeed this world, again. The mouse looks up from it’s cream with it’s beady red eyes and, its mouth still dripping, stretches its face into an unnatural, jagged grin.

(Sorry if anything wasn’t correct according to canon. I tried!)