so that way i know if i should make more or not

Writing Prompts

Send me your requests HERE with your prompt choice and ship / character of choice! (Please no more than 4) and also add your own request merged into it if you want??

  1. “Give me your jacket, I’m freezing.”
  2. “These shoes were made to kick you in the ass!”
  3. “Are you okay?”                                                                                          “I don’t know how to answer that.”
  4. “It’s no big deal, its just a few scratches.”
  5. “I’m so cute, I don’t see why you aren’t dating me.”
  6. “We made a deal and you’ll keep your end, one way or another.”
  7. “You look cute when you smile, you should do it more often.”
  8. “Why are you blushing?”
  9. “I’m always here and you just ignore me.”
  10. “I’ve worked my ass off to get you in this position.”
  11. “Grab my hand!”
  12. “No, listen to me.”
  13. “I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”
  14. “There’s no shame in taking a step back.”
  15. “I’ll kill you, you sick bastard. I’ll kill you, you’re a fucking monster who deserves to die.”
  16. “Is that… a dog?”                                                                                   “No, Its a fucking horse. Of course its a dog, dumbass.”
  17. “I walked here to you in the rain, this is how much I love you.”
  18. “You are quite the mystery, aren’t you?”
  19. “Let go of me!”                                                                                        “I’m barely touching you!!”
  20. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”
  21. “Do you believe in love?”
  22. “Put me down!”
  23. “You’re so small, it’s adorable.”
  24. “Look, this isn’t a guilt-trip: I just genuinely want to know if you dislike me so I can stop bothering you.”
  25. “We can’t be friends anymore.”
  26. “Open your fucking eyes, it’s so obvious that I’m in love with you!”
  27. “Don’t you dare touch him/her.”
  28. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
  29. “Don’t do anything stupid, I’m gonna help you.”
  30. “They say less is more, but when have I lived by that?”
  31. “Hey, don’t touch anything. I don’t know how stable it all is.”
  32. “I hate how you’ve made me broken.”
  33. “I’m a screamer. Not sexually, just at life in general.”                                     “I can make that sexually.
  34. “This isn’t one of my more subtle plans, but considering how long it’s been since I ate or drank or slept, I think I’m doing pretty good.”
  35. “If I wanted you dead, this room would be a lot quieter.”
  36. “Do you ever shut up?”
  37. “You’re such an ass!”
    “But a fine looking one, yes?” 
  38. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”
  39. “Since when did you become a badass?”
  40. “I don’t know why, but I think I’m in love with you.”
  41. “Holy shit! You’re bleeding!”
  42. “I’d like to talk to you when you have your pants on, okay?”
  43. “If anyone could have saved me, it would have been you.”
  44. “Everyone has a breaking point.” 
  45. “I refuse to play along with this. No thank you, go away.”
  46. “What now?”                                                                                               “I don’t know, I didn’t think we’d live this long.”
  47. “They might not want you, but I understand you, and- well, I like who you are and I want you. Please don’t believe what they say.”
  48. “Are you done staring?”
  49. “Never let go.”
  50. “You broke your promise, you can’t come back from that.”
  51. “Hey, are you awake?”
  52. “I love how we all use affectionate pet names and flirt with one another. It’s nice, having such a close knit group of friends, you know?”        “Okay but have you considered: fuckpile.”
  53. “Stay here, I’m gonna go get help.”
  54. “Despite what you think, I can actually express emotions just like any other person.”
  55. “I’m so sorry-”                                                                                      “Then why would you do that to me?! You betrayed me!”
  56. “It happened again.”
  57. “I don’t like you, but for some reason you make me feel fuzzy.”
  58. “Can I kiss you?”
  59. “So what, you bitter piece of fuck? I’m nasty, lewd, I swear every third fucking word, and I am a better person than you. oh, that burns doesn’t it? That a shit like me is more moral and good and pure than you can ever be?”
  60. “Me? What about you?”
  61. “Oh shit, okay. I’m gonna toss you over my shoulder and book it okay, no way I’m trying to fight these fools. Don’t bleed out onto my back, ‘kay?”
  62. “I’ve been thinking about you. More specifically, where you fit in my future.”
  63. “I didn’t ever think I’d fall for someone like you.”
  64. “Stop fighting!”
  65. “Don’t ever talk to me ever again.”
  66. “Please, just give me a break. I’ve been so busy, trying so fucking hard- I’m doing the best I can. Please, please don’t ask more of me.”
  67. “I wish I could lovingly craft the words together to describe how angry you make me.”
  68. “Looks like we both have detention together.”
  69. “It was over when you said goodbye to me.”
  70. “I hate school and everyone in it.”                                                        “Even me?”                                                                                         “You’re an exception.”
  71. “Kiss me.”
    “No thank you- I don’t want your germs near me at all.”
  72. “Oh, fuck off you piece of shit. You think I care about you? That I give a damn about your feelings? Fuck off- I’m first in line for your head.”
  73. “Have sex with me.”
  74. “Please make me feel alive.”
  75. “You’re the only thing that is keeping me on this fucked up world.”
  76. “Even on the shittest days, you’re always there to brighten them.”
  77. “I love you just the way you are.”
  78. “Your stretch marks are like tiger stripes, it makes you look fucking badass.”
  79. “Stop asking me if I’m alright. My last answer was ‘annoyed’, why would it change any time soon?”
  80. “I will not leave you. No matter how hard it gets or how rough things are, I will always be here. I will not leave you.”
  81. “You are such a fucking cliché.”
  82. “Stay close to me.”
  83. “I can’t do everything!”
  84. “You’re art.”
    “But I’m nothing like your art.”
  85. “I think I owe you an apology.”
  86. “Have you seen- oh
  87. “Did you do that for me?”
  88. “That’s a weird way to say ‘I love you’.”
  89. “Are you happy?”                                                                                  “Yes, very.”                                                                                         “Good … that’s good. That makes me happy.”
  90. “Sorry to interrupt but you need to move your hands away from him/her before we have a problem.”
  91. “When I first met you, I thought nothing of you, now you mean everything to me.”
  92. “Please, I can’t live without you.”
  93. “Surprise!”
  94. “You told me it wasn’t my fault, so why are you blaming me now?”
  95. “Shut up!”                                                                                            “Make me.”
  96. “I’ll fucking kill him/her.”
  97. “Are you jealous?”
  98. “Are you flirting with me?”
  99. “You know me better than I know myself.”
  100. “What do you do when you realise you might not be the good guy?”
“What Is My Path and How Do I Find It?”

What is a Path in Witchcraft?

A path is the journey that someone takes as they practice witchcraft. Some use it to describe their past, present and future on their magickal journey. Others use it to represent what they would consider a “label” to themselves and their craft. In general a path in witchcraft is a word to describe that specific witch’s journey, views, experiences, focuses and future goals that surround their own personal magickal practice.

Everyone, absolutely everyone, has a different path because each person is an unique individual with unique interests, hobbies, views, practices and choices. This is why your path may vary so greatly from others around you, your friends and even your mentors/teachers. There is nothing wrong with this because it is your path, not their path.

How do I know what my Witch Type/Path is? Is there a test I can take?

No, there isn’t a test you take to determine what your path is or what type of witch you are. There is only one thing that determines that: you. You are the one who chooses your path and what you wish you focus on.

You don’t have to be any specific type of witch at all. You don’t have to be a storm witch or a green witch. You can be whatever you want. If you want a label and to focus your path onto one thing, then do it. If you want to be labeled as more than one thing, go for it. Do you just want to do whatever you want and have no labels? That’s perfectly fine too!

You decide what kind of witchcraft interests you by:

  • Researching: research every single thing you can find! Save your sources, read through articles, take notes and compare them to other articles, posts, blogs and writings on the same topic. Look at the differences but also examine who is writing: a person who is an atheist witch will have different views on the spirituality and morals of something compared to a Wiccan witch or a Christian witch. Examine who is writing the post, and take their views with a grain of salt and not as solid fact because everyone differs. If you agree with their views that’s great! If not, take it as something to consider. Research the scientific and medical relations of things as well, what I mean by this is each herb is a medicine and like medicine and drugs it has side effects, research it before ingesting it or using it. Research your crystals and stones to ensure you don’t ruin them or harm yourself with them. Science and witchcraft come hand in hand, remember that. It’s not fun sending yourself to the hospital because you overdosed on a herb you didn’t research well enough.
  • Cater to Yourself: By this I mean look at what you as a person enjoy doing: your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes, your talents, your interests, etc. Use these in your craft, take these and put them into your craft. Are you interested in art? Use art supplies, drawing, painting and sigils in your craft. Interested in singing? Sing your spells and incantations, use song lyrics for spells, sing to cleanse a space or attract things. Enjoy collecting stickers? Use stickers to seal spell jars and sachets, use them like sigils and stick them to things, buy stickers that relate to correspondences via color, shape, or imagery. You can use anything you want in your path. If you are passionate about gardening, then your path can bring in gardening and plants into it. If you are passionate about cooking definitely bring kitchen magick into your path. If you just love reading, bring literature, writing and spell books into your path. Bring in your interests, make your path full of things you love. Don’t force yourself to be the “dark mysterious witch” if that is not what interests you. Why bring in tea magick into your craft if you hate tea? Your path is meant for you to enjoy it, it is to cater to you. If you like pink, glitter, candy and soda then use that! Use those things, because they are important to you. That means they hold magick in them, because they are special to you. You will find more success in doing things you love and working with tools you associate with.
  • Follow Your Own Beliefs: This is a big one, some people in our community will try to push that you have to worship a certain religion or deity. You do not have to worship anything or anyone to practice witchcraft. You do not have to be part of any religion, all who tell you otherwise are gatekeeping. If you wish to be Wiccan then be Wiccan, if you wish to be Pagan then be Pagan, if you wish to be Christian then be Christian, if you don’t want to bring religion into your craft at all that’s fine too. It is your choice what your beliefs are, and don’t let others tell you that you are wrong but give that same courtesy to others. Others will likely have different views and beliefs than you and so you should also give them the same respect for their beliefs as you expect them to give you. If you do wish to work with a deity or religion, research it and look into what it is like to be apart of it. Ask others who worship this deity how they do and their bond with them, this can help you figure out your own way to worship.

Why can’t others just tell me how to find my Path? I don’t want to research.

Well, that isn’t how it works I am afraid. Other people don’t know what is important to you in your core, they don’t know what holds your interest or what holds your passion. They can’t just tell you everything about your path. They can give you advice based off of their own experiences however, but this is not the same as them being able to instruct you as to what to do.

Research is apart of witchcraft, that’s just a simple fact. Yes you can ask around to people what things may be or for help but think of it like this: People don’t like feeling like google. Asking someone what the correspondence of a crystal is can get quite annoying if you or just several others keep doing it when you can easily search the phrase: “Correspondence of ____ in witchcraft” and find exactly what you need or to simply search that user’s blog for that specific crystal. Research for yourself, it is your responsibility to do if you wish to use witchcraft. You walk your own path and that means you are responsible for your own lessons. People have out there tons of amazing resources that you can use.

Common Falsehoods, Lies, Red Flags and “Dishonest Truths” about Witchcraft/Paths:

  • You have to be Wiccan/Pagan: As spoken about up above, this not true. You can follow whatever religious practice or belief you desire or none at all.
  • Cursing is Bad!/Three Fold Rule: This is another popular thing people will throw out at new witches to try to scare and shame them away from cursing, hexing and other acts of baneful magick. As a whole, this is a personal opinion. If you choose to curse that is your choice and others have no right to tell you that you’re a bad person for it. But, if you chose not to curse yourself, then that is your choice. Don’t drag others down or insult them for their choice.
  • You can only be one type/kind of Witch: No, you do not even have to label yourself as we talked about above. If you wish to label yourself as a “Sea Witch” or “Cosmic Witch” or “Green Witch” then do so. If you wish not to just focus on one thing then that’s perfectly fine! A lot of witches don’t label themselves as a ‘specific type’ of witch.
  • You have to use crystals/herbs/tea/etc: Nope, you are not required to use any specific ingredients, you don’t even have to use any ingredients at all if you don’t wish to. Use what you have hand and what you like. If you have a lot of candy, make candy spells; if you have a lot of crayons, make drawn and colored spells; if you have a surplus of toilet paper rolls, use those as poppets or for spell containers.
  • You have to have companions/familiars: Nope, you do not have to work with spirits or animals or anything like that if you don’t want to. Before you do get yourself a companion I recommend heavy research into spirit companions and make sure you have a way to communicate with them.
  • “Only women can be witches!”: Nope! Any gender, sexual orientation, race, etc can be a witch. If you practice magick and you want to be called a witch, guess what you’re a witch. If anyone tells you otherwise they are not worth your time.
  • You have to be trained/in a coven to be a witch: Nope! You can be self taught and you can work alone. Beware of toxic covens too, there are some out there who try to gender-shame and can be quite toxic in general. If you wish to be apart of a coven ensure that the rules of the group are ones you are okay with and that you aren’t pressured into behaving a certain way.
  • You have to have “witch blood” if you want to be a strong witch: huge lie right here; your bloodline and family history does not weaken or strengthen your magick. You don’t need to be from a long line of witches to be a witch, you don’t have to be “born a witch”.
  • Tech Magick/Emoji Magick/Pop Culture Magick/Modern Magick is terrible and is ruining true magick!: You will see this a lot on tumblr I am afraid. Lots of people trying to tell other witches that their paths/craft is not “true witchcraft” since it is not based on traditional witchcraft or religions. Don’t listen to them. If you want to practice modern magick and pop culture magick that is your choice and you are valid in every way!
  • If you’re mentally ill/disabled/sick you can’t be a witch: Spoonie witches exist and there are plenty of them! Just because you have found that you may not be as energized as other witches means absolutely nothing. You are valid, even if you use simple and basic magick due to low energy levels you are valid! You are still a witch.
  • You can only be friends with/date other witches: big red flag here! If anyone is telling you this, whether it is a mentor, teacher, friend or coven member/leader you need to find someone else fast. This is majorly toxic behavior used by some witches in this community to make you cut ties with others. It is an abusive manipulative tactic that you have to be aware of and avoid. You can be friends and date whoever you want (obviously within legal terms), whether they are a witch or not.
  • True witches practice magick everyday: Nope! You can take breaks! Especially when you have other things going on, you are tired or you just aren’t mentally/emotionally able to do witchcraft. That is perfectly fine. Take breaks, rest up, focus on other things - its okay. Take care of yourself. You aren’t being a ‘bad witch’ for taking breaks.
  • Everything is related to the supernatural!: No, the mundane is a thing. Not everything you see will be a mystical sign or message. Not everything that happens to you is because of spirits, curses, spells, etc. Rule out the mundane first such as medical problems or common sense/reasoning before you go leaping onto it being some great supernatural occurrence. Once the mundane is ruled out then you can consider other things.
  • Magick is better for you than medicine/doctors!: NO NO NO NO. Magick can aid in medical things if properly researched but never EVER substitute medical procedures, doctors or medicines for magick! Go and take care of yourself! 
The Passive Observer

I am but a passive observer. I do not interfere, I find joy just from watching people.

You moved into this house I dwell in about over a year ago. You came in, professional movers following behind you, eyes bright and cheeks high in a smile. You seemed like you were ready to wrestle a bear and win. You started barking orders to the movers where to put your furniture and which decoration goes where. I watched from the shadows, despite having the ability to appear invisible to human eyes (hiding in the shadows uses less energy for me), and studied all the new stuff you brought in with you. What they were made of, estimating their age, and how much heart was put into making said object, I saw them all.

It would appear that you moved alone, for I saw no one else moving in with you. Your first house, congratulations. I am glad that you chose this old little house; I tried to keep it well-maintained while no one was living in it. You started your early days in this house with a lot of vigor and passion, you were so ready to make a future that you will be proud of, I heard you talk to yourself about your future plans and in silence, I wished you the best of luck.

Keep reading

“Buried” (Chapter Six)

The guys find out who is behind this whole mess, and get ahold of Bucky. They spend an entire day together hiking through the jungle and it’s just as snarky as you think it will be. Little bit longer chapter this time, pushing 3300 words.  Let me know if you figure out what is the significance of Bucky/Steves code names/ numbers! Excited to hear what you guys think!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, drop a note in my ask box!


Enjoy :)

Tony popped awake just as Steve was reaching out to shake him and there was an entirely too awkward moment where they just looked at each other with wide eyes.

Steve’s were just as blue as they had ever been, striking against his darker hair, and Tony thought for a moment that maybe he preferred it to the golden blonde of before. And the beard was a winner. He had always loved Steve’s smile and that clear skin but he wasn’t complaining about the beard. Not at all.

Plus the beard sort of went with how big Steve had gotten, all broad shoulders and ridiculous pecs, and thighs that made Tony want to–

Oh shit I’m staring.

Steve’s lips had curled in an amused smile as Tony was fairly obviously checking him out, and Tony finally broke the stare, looking down at Steve’s out reached hand and then standing by himself, brushing the dirt as best as he could off his pants. “You let me sleep longer than ten minutes.” He said dryly, happy to pretend that he had not been ready to start drooling over the soldier.

Steve rolled his eyes before he could help himself. “Brilliant, Tony. Very observant.”

Tony bristled a little but tried to swallow down his annoyance “Why, though? We needed to get to the river.”

“Because you needed it.” Steve said honestly. “You look tired. More tired than you should for being on vacation. I just wanted to make sure you were as rested as you could be before… before we attempt whatever it is we are attempting.”

“Yes will, I did run for my life from a helicopter yesterday. I think I’m allowed to look tired, thank you.”

“More tired than that.” Steve lifted his pack. “I mean you look like you’ve been tired for months. When was the last time you slept? I could pack things in the bags under your eyes.”

“There’s that Rogers charm.” Tony snorted. “Thanks for the compliments. Let’s just go.”

“Not gonna tell me why you’re tired?”

“I feel like it’s not your business.”

“That’s fair.” Steve took a deep breath and pointed south. “River should be no more than a few clicks that way. I ended up leaving my GPS when I grabbed my pack so I’m not entirely sure about an exact distance. Good thing is, it’s a giant river so we will definitely run right into it at some point, and can follow the current until we hit a village.”

“Lean on, fearless Captain.” Tony re-tied his boot and nodded. “Let’s find some water.”

Keep reading

Damsel in Distress

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader 

Word Count: 946 (I am so sorry that this is so short!!)

Warnings: language, I really think that’s about it lol 

Author’s Notes: This is for @katymacsupernatural Wish Upon a Star Challenge! My prompt was “I’m a damsel, I’m in distress, I can handle this. Have a nice day.” I am super fucking late in getting this out and I deeply apologize Katy!! I hope you like it even though I’m a loser who’s late lol 

Also big thanks to @supernatural-jackles for being my beta and cheerleader, this wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for her. 

***Feedback is greatly appreciated***

Originally posted by frozen-delight

Keep reading

Let it burn

Family dynamics are complicated. Everyone knows that. You have your kitchen witches who can feed an army in the blink of an eye. People forget how dangerous they can be. The talent for pouring your will, your essence, into a pot bubbling on the stove, is not one to take lightly. You can heal people with it, or you can kill. If you let the bitterness coiled in your heart touch your hands while you’re stirring that sauce, you can set someone to wasting away from hunger that will never be satisfied.

Then you have the peacemakers. They can charm a room with a breath. Not the kind of charm that worms its way into the blood and can build enough wanting to start a war, but the kind that diffuses a storm before a fist is thrown. When the air is never cleared, peace becomes more valuable.

There are all kinds of families, and all of them are complicated. Every home is walls that have soaked up the love and hate that only ever lives inside a family bound by blood. The problem is, when you’re the quiet one, the one nobody sees in the corner behind a book or slipping between the shadows because you’re still so very small and they haven’t learned to notice you yet, people forget that you have eyes, and a mind, and though you will eventually inherit some of the talents your family is known for, you are still yourself.

Some people are magnets for souls that need unburdened. Whether they like it or not. The luckiest can take the occasional hit of someone truly confessing in need, because these are balanced by all the flibbertigibbet streams of consciousness who are still too afraid to ask, but still need to be heard. The talent for seeing is often coupled to a talent for nudging. If you’re going to help, you have to be able to sway a soul in the desired direction. It’s a pity so many with this talent, misuse it.

They forget that your gift, is to remember. They forget you don’t sleep when you’re supposed to. They forget you understand more than you should. When you’re small, they forget who they are supposed to be. The words flow in a constant hum. Your dreams wake the house and you don’t know why. They’ve forgotten, but you can’t forget at all.

Then one day, you sit in an empty house, surrounded by the rage and screams and memories of bones that were never yours, breaking. You sit there, with a piece of bread. The bread is supposed to belong to you. It is absolution and exculpation and in that bread is not one drop of regret for what you have been asked to do.

You listen to the room, with its desperate sussurations imploring you to do what you came here for or get out and be damned.

“Family dynamics are complicated. Everyone knows that,” you make certain to speak clearly, because you’re only going to be able to say it once. You pour oil over the piece of bread, the way you’re supposed to, and you can’t stop yourself from fidgeting with the matchbook, to light the candle in the center of the table.

“I spent years swallowing what you all forgot I could hear. Every time, it burned, like acid on my tongue. You forgot I was there, you forgot that remembering is my purpose, you forgot that of all the talents we carry, this one scars deep and quick. You forgot even though you woke with the screams that I never uttered, ringing in your ears. And yet you ask this of me.”

The room is ready to shatter. You hold it there. There should be something more meaningful than this, something that guarantees you walk away cleanly from the things these restless, long-dormant ghosts have weighted you down with since you were old enough to hear them. If such a thing exists, you haven’t found it yet, so you make do with what you’ve got.

“I wasn’t built to be this family’s sin-eater. I’ve done it, for far too long, but I will not do this.”

It’s easy, then, to drop a match into the oil, and listen to the screams of those who never once asked for forgiveness, as they burn.

BTS reaction to slow sex


Namjoon was kinda wild in the bedroom, so you two never really tried going slow and easy. He always showed his dominant side and you loved it, but tonight you decided to try doing it slow. So when he decided to put you on top, you started going slow and deep, making him moan.

“Next time you’re on top again, yeah?”

Originally posted by bexsblogposts


Your boyfriend always did anything for you; bought your favorite food, watched your favorite movies with you and other things. But when it comes to doing the dirty things, he is in charge. It’s not so vanilla, it’s mostly rough and fast. Today was your birthday, so he decided to listen to you. After finally moving inside of you slowly, his voice became deeper.

“You look so good, you know?”

Originally posted by jungkookandyugyeomwhores


You’d think that Yoongi is more into lazy sex, but the boy was rough and fast. He made you scream his name every time he got to be inside you. The two of you had been together for three months and didn’t really try new things. Until one day, when you woke him up feeling hot and bothered. He was holding you gently and slowly helping you to ride him. His morning voice made you even more horny, and the morning sex was something you’d do often.


Originally posted by sugasuite


There was always something about the way Hoseok held you and pounded hard into you. It made you want him even more, tug on his hair and leave scratches on his back to let everyone know how good he makes you feel. That night he came home from practice all sweaty and tired but horny. His moves were slow and gentle, and you loved it as much as him.

“We should do this more often, don’t you think?”

Originally posted by because-k-pop


Jimin and you tried going slow many times, but it ended up with him not controlling himself and finishing sooner than planned. This time you decided to be on top and not allow him to move. You started really slow and held his hands still above his head.

“Yeah, I admit, you were right. Now keep… fuck… just like that.”

Originally posted by mayfifolle


Your first time with Tae was slow and gentle, but after finding out how good roughs sex with him was, you didn’t even try doing it slow. It was your last day with him, tomorrow he was going to Japan. You two ended up in the bed, making love sweetly instead of going rough.

“I missed this.”

Originally posted by jimin-bts-trashs


The thought of having slow sex made Jungkook laugh. He always enjoyed being rough with you, and you didn’t mind. But you wanted something new. You were in bed, telling him you really wanted to try slow and him laughing, but suddenly letting out a moan. You climbed on him and slowly moved up and down, making him moan louder and louder.

“Who knew this could be so good.”

Originally posted by jkookisdaddy

I couldn’t wait anymore ((:

anonymous asked:

I do think reylo have an interesting dynamic but I don't think Disney would put a hero and a villain together because of the message it would send to kids

First, they’ve already done it:

Second, so has Lucasfilm:

Third, arguing that Kylo is “more evil” than those pictured above is a fallacy, because we’ve only seen 1/3rd of his story. Arguing that you can’t redeem someone who committed patricide is also based in hypocrisy, because Vader managed to get the girl even after slaughtering an entire village of women and children and was redeemed after a lifetime of murder and genocide. But I won’t go in-depth with the redemption dynamics. These things have been discussed ad nauseam by people much more invested in Kylo’s arc than me. 

Tbh, at this point I don’t really care whether or not Kylo is redeemed or whether or not Rey and Kylo end up together. What I do care about is the pearl-clutching over the dynamic and the sexist purity politics these “think of the children” arguments are based in. Nobody was making this argument about Anakin’s relationship with Padme or Luke’s relationship with his father, because both of those stories were told via the male gaze.

More than anything, the “think of the children” argument leaves a bad taste in my mouth because what it’s really saying is, “what message does this send to grown women”?“ Because lbr, these arguments are not predicated on girls, but the idea that women cannot make a rational value judgement between a fictional premise and healthy, real-life choices, and thereby must be shown the right way to think. it’s the infantilization of adults by people who should ostensibly know better.

I will not be spending any more time on this argument, and additional asks like this will be deleted.


Pairing: Sam Holland x Reader

Requested by: @dej-okay

Request: hi! I noticed you were taking sam holland requests, and he’s my absolute smol bean, so I was wondering if I van request an imagine where the reader is always sad, and Sam notices, so he leaves little positive comments about her in her locker, or writes them on her folders, but she doesn’t know it’s him? 

*Notes: i luv sam he’s a qt



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Addewid (XIV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Kai (Jongin)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4,313

Genre: Fey!AU + Series

Summary: You cannot appeal to my better nature, for I have none. I am not human, little one.”

You’ve always known you were different. You’re able to see them, after all, able to see the Others. You’ve also always ignored them. Until the day comes where you’re forced to make a choice - one that throws your world into chaos. And sends you down a path you might never return from.

Originally posted by intokai

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anonymous asked:

Thank you all for your lovely writing! I always look forward to it :) Any chance we'll get more of The Getaway? I would love to see Jamie and Claire navigate these next few months/years of becoming such young parents.

Soon, Anon, I promise. Have some Chain of Command whilst you wait <3 

With their nuptials now out of the way and the wedding night over, Claire and Jamie settled into a new routine. Unwilling to give up her duties, Claire went back to work alongside Mama Crook though she moved her belongings out of her own wee rooms and upstairs into Jamie’s room. It was strange at first, having his company in bed but she soon calmed and the nightmares she’d been having eased.

Pounding the dough, flour puffing up around her in a cloud, Claire hummed to herself. At nearly eight months gone, it had taken her this long to convince Jamie that she didn’t need a constant escort. In need of supplies, Jamie, Brian, Murtagh and Mrs Crook had taken the cart into Inverness, leaving her pretty much to herself.

Ellen and Jenny were spending the day pottering around in the gardens and Claire liked knowing that she had family close. But hobbiting away in the kitchens, she found a certain solace in the quiet hum of the preparation rooms. She smiled to herself, remembering the week before and the night they’d spent together just before Jamie had left. He’d been more than attentive, making sure that she was happy and healthy and that the baby was moving as he should.

Jamie had a certain way with the unborn bairn. He only had to place his hand gently over her belly and whisper and he’d writhe and dance like fireflies in the mist. On the odd occasion the baby had even put his hand square against the top of her bump, pressing his wee fingers into her flesh in order to reach out to his da.

Those memories made Claire ache. One week was a long time after two whole months of having him by her side almost constantly and even though she’d convinced him to go, she now felt more than a little heart-sick.

“Stop being foolish, Fraser,” she castigated, punching her fist deep into the dough until her knuckles reached the table below. The use of her married name warmed her from the inside out and she closed her eyes to bask in the sensation.

A sharp pain dragged her from her musings and her nails dug into the wood of the table. Breathing through it, she shifted her legs to try and shake it out of her limbs. “It’s alright, wee man,” she whispered, rubbing her flour-coated hands over the ever-expanding arch of her belly.

Swaying her hips now, Claire separated out the dough into small balls, bread-roll sized, in perfect domes before placing them on the baking tray. Her womb was still contracting a bit, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Flinging more flour on the countertop, Claire busied herself by trying to kneed more bread, although, with the amount she’d made, she would still struggle to fit them all over the fireplace to bake.

“Please, wee ‘un,” she pleaded, the hours having passed with little sign of her pain abating. Bending over to lay her forehead against the wood as she swallowed, ignoring the faint scent of burning bread as her knees shook with the force of this new contraction.

It was too early, way too early. Claire had hoped that he was just moving with more fervor but as she felt the sudden gush of water between her legs, the cloth of her slip drenched as it splashed on the cold stone floor, she knew that time was no longer a factor.

Claire was alone and in labour.

Using the preparation table to prop herself upright, Claire struggled to stand. Her rooms still lay empty and so instead of trying to give birth in the frosty confines of the lower kitchens, she pushed herself towards the door that would lead her into a more palatable space.

“Jamie,” she gasped, a small contraction hitting her out of the blue as her knees buckled. If this was the beginning, she thought, sweat pouring from her, how was she going to cope by herself. Part of her prayed that calling out for him would miraculously bring him to life before her. With no such luck, Claire continued into the tiny living area that had been her home for so many years.

Sliding herself into a corner, Claire spread her legs, her knees resting carefully against the walls either side of her as she thrust her head backwards. She wanted to push, her whole body begging her to allow the baby out, but something told her she needed to just breathe through the pain.

Muddled between body and mind, Claire tried desperately to cling to some rational thought. She’d been present during births before but she couldn’t quite call to mind the words of the midwife as her panic began to rise.

Fatigue was beginning to set in as the glare of dusk splashed through the tiny window. Shaking and covered in a thin sheen of moisture, Claire breathed erratically through each agonising contraction. They were coming thick and fast now and Claire had almost doubled over onto her knees with her feet resting gently against the wall. Her head was bowed a little, her forehead nearly touching the floor as she bit her lip before crying out. Equal parts frustration and distress fell from her mouth in the form of an anguished caw as she cursed herself for sending Jamie away at such a late stage in her pregnancy, now her and the bairn might pay the ultimate price.

With hours passing and no sign of either Jamie and Mama Crook or Ellen and Jenny, Claire was growing wearier and wearier. Five hours she made it, and that was only after her waters had broken. Strange, she pondered, between contractions, that the whole place seemed to have been abandoned at the most inopportune time. Fate was conspiring against her, the ethereal specter of the black, hooded figure that’d haunted her dreams seemed to have leapt forth from her mind and taken up residence in the opposite corner of the room. He was laughing, the subtle shudder of his shoulders mocking Claire as she blinked languorously.

Her vision blurred, her chapped, dry lips parting as she lifted her heavy head from the floor to focus on the ever expanding torment that lay before her. A sudden twitch of her thighs and Claire pushed through the newest contraction, all her inhibitions blown to smithereens as the pain virtually knocked her to the ground.

Bloodied and torn, her nails scratched fruitlessly at the dry stone beneath her as she screamed and pushed with all her might, her back tensing and arching as her knees scraped backwards.

Had she been lucid enough, Claire would have heard the steady footfalls on the wood above her, but as it was, she was too focused on the blinding cramp that was emanating from her womb outwards. No longer able to contain her cries, she was panting wildly. Her hair, freed from its cap during her drawn out labour, had plastered itself to the sides of her face, the damp sweat that gathered there collecting stray strands as Claire’s head bobbled up and down.

“Claire…” She heard, a voice piercing the painful fog that had surrounded her for the past few hours, “Claire, lass, where are ye?”

He sounded panicked, his footsteps -which had started out careful and measured- now skittered across the floor as he tried to find his way to her. Jamie was lost too, her cries should have alerted him as to her direction but he couldn’t focus, his mind throwing up all manner of awful situations as he slammed into the table, his hip colliding with the side of it in the dark as he tried to reach the partly open door that lay at the other end of the kitchen.

“J-Jamie,” Claire huffed, her lungs throbbing as she tried to fill them with enough oxygen to breath, push through yet another contraction and call out to him. Closing her eyes, Claire dozed off, just for a second. Shimmying her hips, she rolled her bottom down towards the floor, her legs shaking with the immense pressure of keeping her balanced and stable. She was fast approaching empty, her energy levels depleted by the sheer force of the delivery. “Jamie,” she repeated, her heart beating double time as it started to slow before picking up pace once more. A deep burning sensation was increasing between her legs and she could barely open her eyes anymore. “I can’t, n-not anymore…I’m sorry…”

Jamie, his eyes wide, finally reached Claire just in time for her to collapse into his arms. “Jesus, Claire,” he whispered, cradling her slumped form against his chest. He instantly felt the moisture seeping through his thin shirt and he had to breathe deeply to stop himself from weeping. His fear would do her no good. “How long?”

“S-since lunch…” she managed, her fingers digging into Jamie’s arms as she rocked forwards and back through each new contraction. “I was i-OH-in…pain.”

“S’alright,” Jamie soothed, hushing her as she tried to give him specific times, “I shouldna have left ye…I should…”

“N-no, Jamie, no. Just…is he going to be alright?” Claire said, her voice little more than a sobbed-whisper as she fell in and out of a disoriented sleep, her body allowing her a moment’s rest before nudging her to push when it was required.

“We’ll make sure he is, mo nighean donn. Me and you together. Just push now, aye, push…”

Claire didn’t know if Jamie truly knew what he was doing, men usually being banned from this sort of activity, but she trusted the certainty in his voice. Still fully clothed, the loose laces of her bodice felt as if they were crushing her ribs now as she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay conscious.

“I need to get ye upstairs, Claire,” Jamie whispered, looking to the ceiling as if to muster the energy to finally move her. Worry coloured his features as he watched her heave a huge sigh, her belly rolling beneath her skirts as she shifted her hips.

Claire ached. Her whole body was teetering on the edge of such extreme fatigue that she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Pulling at her bodice, she braced herself for a powerful contraction. An almost silent roar came from her as the sweat mingled with her tears, her vision blurring as she tried to open her eyes.

“I…” she panted out, her hands clawing at Jamie as her head bobbed against his chest, “I n-need to get out of this…p-please, it’s suffocating me…” she managed, her words low and pained as she grunted and pushed once more. The pain was coming hot and fast now, with almost no respite in between each contraction. “Just get it off me. Now…NOW!” She cried out, her head falling backwards, the veins standing prominent in her neck as she battled to birth her baby.

Turning her around, Jamie used the wall and one arm to rest her safely whilst he tugged at the knotted laces that bound her into her corset. It wasn’t tight, or at least it hadn’t been when she’d fastened it up in the morning but the brutal nature of childbirth had caused the material to shrink. It was filled with moisture, the thick fabric drenched in Claire’s sweat. Sliding a small knife from his sock, Jamie slit through the rope, his patience wearing thin as he noticed Claire’s bright red face twist towards him.

She opened her eyes a little to look at him. In her delirious state she could barely make him out, but the pressure had decreased from her chest and she was beginning to breath easier which made focusing less difficult. It wasn’t an entirely effortless process, but she began to regain feeling in her lower extremities once more. Jamie watched as the redness in her cheeks subsided, a more normal hue taking its place as she steadied herself and looked at him properly for the first time since he’d found her.

“Jesus, Claire,” Jamie whispered, spurred into action now as he slid his arms beneath her legs and hoisted her up, “I didna even think…I’m sorry, so verra-”

“N-no, Jamie,” Claire sighed, her tender thighs still throbbing as she rode out another burst of contractions in his arms, “no time for sorry, just make sure he’s safe…”

She sounded very far away, her voice so soft and gentle that the words seemed to flutter away on the breeze left behind them as Jamie carried her up to their chambers. The house was still eerily quiet, his mother and Jenny nowhere to be seen. He’d come home a little earlier than the others, needing Claire’s company more than that of his road companions. Evidently it had been a good move on his part, any longer by herself and Claire might have passed out. The pressure of the corset along with the stress of the early birth might have taken her from him indefinitely.

“I can hear your brain working,” she whispered, her fingers digging painfully into the skin of his chest as she grappled with consciousness. Tensing, she scrunched her face up but made no noise as Jamie placed her on their bed. Lying her on her side, he pulled her knee up as he remembered seeing a midwife do once before laying himself nose to nose with her.

“Aye, can ye…is it that loud?” He joked, no humour in his tone.

“It is, Mr Fraser. But you can’t be here,” she said, reaching her hand slowly to touch the side of his face. She was cold and it frightened him. “You have to make sure he’s alright, you have to be ready for him…when he comes,” she grunted, riding through her contractions, pushing and pushing as she coaxed Jamie to do what his mother would have ordinarily been there to do instead.

Shifting himself downwards, Jamie took one tentative look between her legs, his hands gently holding her thigh up so that he could get a better look at the situation. Stilling he held his breath as he watched in awed silence. He wanted to speak; he wanted to tell her what he could see but he couldn’t, the sight rendered him speechless.

“J-Jamie?” Claire questioned, pushing again twice as hard, biting down on the pillow now to stop herself from screaming and then fainting with the pain of it all. It was almost unbearable now. The tiredness, stress, panic and general lethargy that birthing brought weighed heavily on her chest as she took one deep breath after another. “Tell me…”

“I can see him,” he finally answered, his hushed tone easing some of Claire’s worry. “His head anyway.”

“A-any blood?”

Ellen had been coaching Claire for the last few weeks on the sorts of things that could and might go wrong during her birth and, although half asleep now, she tried to bring them to mind in order to help Jamie gauge how serious (or not) this birth might be. She didn’t feel as if she’d been torn, but the whole middle of her just tingled now so she couldn’t be sure.

“Nay blood, Claire, just his head. No’ long now, Claire,” he said, his eyes watering as he rested her leg over his shoulder, lending his strength to her through the position of his body. “Just keep pushing, a ghradh, push wi’ all yer might…he’s not far off, come on, Sorcha.”

Buoyed by the optimism in Jamie’s voice, Claire dug her shaky fingers into the quilts beneath her, her muted cries blocking out the sound of the door as it flung open revealing a very bedraggled looking Jenny.  

“Oh Christ!” She cursed, wiping her fingers on her apron as she rushed across the room her eyes darting between Claire, Jamie, the door and back again, “how long has she been in labour?” She asked, concern lacing her voice as she tore the stained smock from around her neck, tearing the fabric.

The sound of one long yelp from Claire covered the sound of Jamie’s reply and he turned in time to catch the head of the wean as she lurched upwards during the penultimate push. Scrambling to keep her upright and catch the baby, Jamie forced his sister from his mind. Her question was useless now, anyway. They just needed to see Claire and the child safe - then they could discuss the incredible mess that’d transpired whilst they’d all been preoccupied.

“One more, Claire, just one…I promise. Can ye do it lass?”

Claire nodded, her whole body trembling as she clung to Jamie’s voice. Anything to stay awake. Anything to deliver her baby safely into the world.

Gritting her teeth as she straightened her spine, Claire rallied for any energy she had left, her muscles pulsing as her heart rate dipped just a little before pounding back to life in time for the final contraction.

“Now, Claire,” Jamie whispered, his hands wrapped gently around the head of their bairn as Jenny held Claire’s leg aloft.

She felt it, that sudden release of pressure as the head and shoulders fell free. Knowing the hard part to be done, Claire flopped against the bed, her chest rising and falling unevenly in the aftermath. Jamie, holding onto the baby whilst his hands shook, did the rest of the work. He didn’t even think of the dangers involved in pulling their child free, but before he knew it, he had the wee one clasped in his palms. The infant was tiny and covered in muck and filth from his birth, but one loud craw proved that he was very much alive.

“W-what…is he? She?” Claire mumbled her words merging together sleepily as she fought to sit upright. Although she could hear the cries, she needed to see for herself.

“Easy, Claire,” Jenny soothed, levering Claire upright as she wrapped a blanket over her legs, checking subtly to make sure no damage had been done. The afterbirth would be along soon, but in the meantime it would do Claire some good to see her child and hold him close. Seeing no blood or injury, and pleased with the state of affairs, Jenny tucked the sheet under Claire and stood back leaving Jamie to deliver the news.

“He, Claire,” Jamie said proudly, “we have a wee son.” Crawling up beside her, he held the naked lad up, the tuft of bright red hair coating his tiny head as he burrowed neatly against Jamie.

“Hello baby boy,” she cooed, her eyes opening and closing languorously, her lids heavy as lead. As if to answer, he twitched, his small hands unfurling and reaching out in her direction as he squirmed and wriggled in Jamie’s arms. “Oh,” she whispered, her head desperate to hold her baby, her body desperate to rest.

“You need to sleep, Claire,” Jenny piped up, her arms filled with tiny blankets, all just large enough to cocoon the newborn whilst his mother slept. “Me and Jamie will-” she started, her eyes darting to the door as her mother and father appeared, their eyes wide, their hands entwined.

“What’s amiss,” Brian said, his brows drawn together in confusion. The pair had obviously missed the hive of activity above and neither seemed to anticipate the soft keen that came from the baby snuggled, still bare, in Jamie’s arms.

“Oh…Claire!” Ellen exclaimed, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she and Brian glanced between Jamie, Claire and their newly birthed bairn. “All by yerself?” She continued, the admiration obvious in her tone.

“Mostly,” Jamie replied, his eyes not leaving his son.

“With a little help from Jamie,” Claire added.

Ellen cursed under her breath, watching carefully as her daughter-in-law curled up in a small ball against Jamie her hand slowly making its way upwards until it rested lightly next to her baby.

“Jamie, lad,” Brian whispered, forcing Jamie to look up, “maybe we should let Claire sleep now, as Jenny said, aye?”

“Don’t leave…” Claire sighed, her grip tightening as if she feared he might be cajoled into leaving her at the request of his father and sister. It wasn’t that she didn’t need rest, she did, but she’d been alone all day with and the idea of being abandoned now - even for her own good - made her gut twist. “Please, Jamie, no.”

“Hush, mo nighean,” Jamie soothed, angling himself closer as Claire shifted again, hissing in pain as the irritation peaked.

“Leave them,” Ellen whispered to her husband, begging Jenny with her eyes as she quickly fetched a jug of mead from the fireside and placed it by Claire and Jamie’s bed. “Just make sure, my boy, that she gets plenty of liquid in her. She’ll need it after that.” Taking the baby blankets from Jenny, Ellen placed them on the bottom of the bed, passing one up to Jamie as she ran her hands gently over the top of Claire’s head in a very motherly gesture. “I’m sae sorry, love, that we werena here for ye…” her eyes welled with tears as she took one step backwards. She knew the dangers of birth, she had been there herself and the prospect of doing it alone was a daunting one. No wonder Claire didn’t wish for Jamie to leave her, she needed all the comfort she could get.

“S’alright,” Claire muttered, her eyes remaining closed as she smiled, her nose nuzzling under Jamie’s arm as he shifted their son to allow both mother and baby to cuddle up against him. “Over now. Just don’t make them go.”

“We won’t,” Brian interjected, “I’m sorry too.” His shoulders slumped. Having nearly lost Ellen to childbirth, he could see the weight of the terror still hovering over them both, even in the joyous aftermath. “Yer fair strong, Claire,” he added, pulling Ellen back into his arms as he stood aside for Jenny to pass, “getting through those long hours alone.”

“Aye,” Jamie whispered over the top of Claire’s head, watching as her chest rose and fell more gently now as she finally collapsed, fatigue softly pulling her under, “she is at that. My strong lassie.”

anonymous asked:

"I'm drunk, I'm an adult, and I want cuddles" ~ malec (for something a bit less angsty!)

Happens directly after this fic.

“Have I told you already that I love you?”

Magnus smiled as he closed the portal behind them and then wound his arm a little tighter around Alec’s waist, making sure the young man didn’t trip over his feet and faceplant into Magnus’ expensive Persian rug.

“I believe you did, darling,” Magnus replied and couldn’t help but to think back to the moment that blossomed between them a couple hours earlier, to the first love confession, fueled by desperation and relief beyond measure.

Now it was time to rest, time to wind down and let go. Valentine was captured and his plans were thwarted. Jace had proceeded with getting drunk as soon as he could and Alec joined him, seeing it as a way to reconnect with his parabatai. Magnus couldn’t fault him for that, for needing the closeness and the soft thrum of their bond buzzing just underneath his skin. If there was anyone who deserved to get plastered after tonight, it would be Jace and Alec. Gods knew they didn’t take breaks often enough.

But now he had Alec back home, after Isabelle had called Magnus to take his boyfriend out of the Institute, which was filled to the brim with Clave officials by now. So he had portalled them back to his loft, fully intending to take care of his intoxicated Shadowhunter.

And really, who would have thought that the stoic, solemn young man like Alec ended up a clingy, happy and sleepy drunk?

“I should tell you that every day now,” Alec mumbled into Magnus’ neck, where he nuzzled into just a second ago. “I love you, you know?”

“And I love you, darling,” Magnus laughed as he steered them towards the bedroom. The fact that Alec was all limbs now was not making his task easier. Or that he was successfully winding said limbs around Magnus, as if he wanted to put his entire body into the embrace. “You’re a needy thing, aren’t you?”

“Shhh,” Alec shushed him before Magnus could say anything more. “I’m drunk, I’m an adult, and I want cuddles.” He looked at Magnus, his face scrunching a little, into what was supposed to be a determined expression.” So gimme cuddles.”

Magnus laughed again, with the deep, booming laugh that he couldn’t really stop, even if he wanted to.

“I wish I could record this. I bet you’re not going to remember that in the morning.”

“Yes, yes,” Alec mumbled, trying to walk into the bedroom without leaning into Magnus too much, but it proved difficult when the entire world was tilting and spinning out of control around him. “Cuddles first.”

Pied Piper screwed me over. LOL

First of all… Ayayay… Wow… I didn’t expect… THANK YOU.

The song hit a sore spot, I guess. If you follow me and read the shit I write, you’d know. I fangirl with my sisters and I enjoyed it a lot. But things haven’t been easy around here. The more I get sad, the more I turn to KPop, mostly Bangtan, mostly Yoongi, mostly this blog.

It has been my escape, like for most of you guys too, I guess. But as my low points got worse, my escapism worsened too. And it roots from the fact that I think people have so many expectations from me which comes from my age and seniority and I can’t deliver. This blog has been the highlight of my day. Bangtan eased away my thoughts. But I think I need to balance it.

Pied Piper talks about how twisted our relationship is with these people we admire and, in all honestly, damn near worship is. Their songs and their whole being inspire us and make us happy. We spend time, we spend money, to keep up to date and in the hopes that somehow we are helping them reach their goals. It makes us feel like we are a part of it. No matter how far we are, we feel like we belong in something that keeps aspiring for more.

And they did clarify that we are a part of it. In a twisted way that can be imputing on our own lives, we have dedicated a part of ourselves to them. And though they are sorry for the way they have affected our lives negatively in some sense, they can’t let us go.

You guys are right! And thank you for reminding me that what makes me happy should just make me happy, reagrdles of age and I should just keep on finding happy. But at the same time, I can’t escape. So my resolution is temperance. When you run a blog, you tend to go deep. When it starts growing, you tend to have greed.

Thank you, for reminding me that this whole new journey is about learning how to love ourselves, myself. And KPOP, BANGTAN, YOONGI… these are parts of me. Bangtan is making us face reality by giving us the most HONEST, TWISTED LOVE SONG an idol group can give to their twistedly loving fans. I love them and I love this.

It’s scary though… thinking that I’m watching from the sidelines as the people I admire continue to move forward. I’m starting to feel like I’m just watching and not living. AND that, ladies and gentlemen, is the wrong way to live. The age thing… is an age thing. You keep thinking about how much time you have left to do what you thought you should be doing and where you should be at any given point. No matter what age, that thought comes.

This has gone long. My point is… WE NEED TO LIVE. I NEED TO LIVE for myself too. Our fandom is growing and we keep having these united goals we want to acheive but at the end of the day, we should never forget the goals we placed for ourselves. Invest in you and in what will give you peace and happiness. Build on towards your definition of success.

Thank you for caring to ask and for speaking your minds… this community… how can I leave it? I guess, I won’t completely. I still have some thinking to do… but… Thank you!

anonymous asked:

Can you do more msr smut? maybe one where someone walks in on them? It would be nice to see how they'd react and feel afterwards!

Here you go anon, the last in my series of caught fics. 

Warning, NSFW. 

Mulder doesn’t quite know how it all happened. One moment he was stood at the door to Scully’s apartment, flashing her a cheeky yet hopeful grin as he held a Chinese takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of red in the other, and the next he was sat on the couch, his legs spread and his jeans unzipped as he watched his hot little partner sink to her knees in front of him, take his cock into her mouth and proceed to give him the best blowjob of his life.

He’d gone to her apartment on a whim – they hadn’t made plans to spend the evening together, and even as he placed the order for their takeout he’d decided that he would share the food with the Gunmen if his partner wasn’t at home. But she was, and if the way she’d kissed him and pulled him into her apartment was anything to go by, she had been missing him too.

It was pathetic really, he’d thought to himself. The two of them had only “officially” taken their relationship to the next level a few weeks ago, when Scully had crawled into his bed, very much naked and very much not tired, after he’d returned home from his visit to England. Since then they’d slept together only twice, heavy workloads and Scully’s family commitments keeping them apart. They’d got back from their latest case late last night, too late for Mulder to stay, and today they’d been back at the office, knee deep in paperwork. Tonight was their chance to catch up, as a couple, and to spend some time together outside of work. Mulder was hoping deep down that the evening would end with Scully inviting him to spend the night, but he’d never expected this. The Chinese is cooling on the coffee table but all Mulder can think about is his partner sucking on his dick as though it’s her favorite flavor lollipop.

“Sc…” After seven years, Scully has finally rendered her partner speechless. Her right hand is wrapped tightly around his cock while her mouth bobs up and down on him, her teeth lightly grazing his flesh. Mulder is hard, possibly harder than he’s ever been, and he knows he’s moments away from one of the best orgasms of his life. His partner isn’t exactly making things easy for him either; she’s looking up at him with her big blue eyes, smirking around his flesh as her left hand moves to unbutton her shirt ever so slightly, then heads down and disappears beneath her skirt. Seconds later Mulder feels her moan vibrate against him, the sensation driving him closer to the edge.

“Get up…uhhh…get up here Scully.”

She shakes her head, unwilling to release his cock, though he notices that whatever she’s doing beneath her skirt – and he has a reasonably good idea of what that is – she’s speeding up.

“Please.” First she rendered him speechless, now she’s got him begging. Dana Scully has her partner wrapped around her little finger, and he loves it. “Scully I wanna be inside you.”

“No,” replies Scully, pulling back momentarily to catch her breath. “Like this.”

“I’m close.”

“I know.” She flashes him another smile before her mouth sinks back down over his cock.

He’s given her plenty of warning, he tells himself, and before he can even think about pulling out he suddenly tumbles over the edge, spilling into her mouth with a cry. Scully isn’t that far behind him, groaning around him as she cleans him up.

As he comes down from his rush, Mulder suddenly hears the scraping of a key in the lock at Scully’s door. He looks down at his partner, her wide eyes reflecting his own horror, and then it all happens in a blur. A visibly post-coital Scully quickly gets to her feet, setting her skirt in place, while Mulder lifts his hips up off the sofa, trying to zip up his jeans. As the door opens, Scully suddenly flings a nearby cushion onto her partner’s lap in an attempt to conceal his modesty. But it’s too late.


“Oh my goodness!” Maggie takes in the scene, looks at her daughter’s unbuttoned blouse, her healthy “glow” and her partner sporting a cushion in his lap and then immediately spins round, facing the door to the apartment, while Mulder and Scully scramble to make themselves look more presentable. Both of them are blushing furiously, while Mulder’s heart is beating double time. Shit. This isn’t good, not good at all. 

“It really isn’t what it looks like.”

It’s exactly what it looks like, and all three of them know that. Unable to stop himself, Mulder smirks as he raises his eyebrows at his partner, his jeans now zipped once more. He figured she’d be a little more inventive than that. 

Thankfully, Maggie seems equally flustered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I knocked and I didn’t hear anything -” Mulder curses inwardly. If he’d just been a little quieter, they’d have heard her mom knock. But then again, he thinks, Scully is equally to blame for being so damn good at what she does, and besides, she was as carried away as he was. 

“We were just doing some paperwork -“ 

"Paperwork?” mouths Mulder to his partner, wincing as Scully shakes her head and slaps his arm hard, warning him to stay quiet.

“I didn’t realize you were back. I came over to check on the apartment –”

“There’s a lot of paperwork for this case –”

“So I used my key -” Maggie cautiously turns her head, then when realizing the coast is clear and that her daughter and partner are fully dressed, turns around. Mulder notices that neither mother nor daughter are able to make eye contact with one another. 

“We’ve got a lot of work on you see.”

“Of course." 

"And I was just helping Mulder with a report.”

“I should go.”

“No,” Mulder interrupts, unable to listen to the awkward conversation any longer. “I should go.”

“No,” Scully announces firmly, looking between the two of them. There’s a hint of resignation to her voice. “You should both stay.”

She’s right, Mulder knows - if they try and avoid her mom now, the next meeting will be even more awkward.

Maggie nods down at her feet, and so Mulder tries to break the tension in the room. “I’ll put the kettle on. Coffee Magg…Mrs Scully?”

“I’ll take tea please,” she replies politely. She doesn’t need coffee, having just had a wake-up call. Scully nods in agreement and so he leaves the room, giving the two of them time to speak alone. He figures Maggie will have some questions for her daughter, and sure enough he’s right. 

“How long has this been going on?” He hears Maggie ask the moment he’s - she presumes - out of earshot. Scully seems to have pre-empted the question and is ready with her answer. 

“About three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” The surprise is evident in Maggie’s voice. “You’ve only been together for three weeks?” While Mulder busies himself with boiling the kettle, he contemplates Maggie’s shock. He’s sure she thought they’d been together a lot longer – he’s always presumed she knew about his feelings for her daughter. He still feels awful for her walking in on them, and understands why she’s annoyed – she’s embarrassed after all, and no doubt feels out of the loop for not being aware of their relationship. As the kettle boils he suddenly feels bad for leaving Scully alone to face her mom, and slowly pads back out into the living room.

“…better of you Dana…” Maggie pauses as she notices Mulder’s presence. He shoots his partner a look, silently asking her if she’s ok, and she nods ever-so-slightly, though her eyes tell him otherwise.

“Mrs Scully,” he suddenly interrupts, moving over to stand by Scully’s side. He reaches down and takes hold of her hand. “I can only apologize for what you saw tonight. We certainly didn’t mean for you to walk in on that, and I’m sorry that we’ve embarrassed you. No parent wants to walk in on their child doing that, no matter how old they are.”

Maggie hums in agreement, but she says nothing, waiting for him to continue. “But I want you to know something. Dana’s told you we’ve been together for three weeks, and that’s correct. Officially. But if you’re asking me when I fell in love with your daughter, it’s been longer than that. A lot longer. More like three years.” He feels Scully’s eyes on him but he’s unable to trust himself to look at her. “I know what you’re thinking, and rest assured that I’m not taking advantage your daughter. I love her. This isn’t a quick fling, this is it for me, and if I’ve read the signs right, it’s the same for Dana.”

“It is,” Scully whispers, and he can hear the tears in her voice.

Maggie appears a little surprised at their admissions, but Mulder is pleased to see that she no longer looks as though she wants to kill the two of them. “So it’s serious.” It’s a statement, not a question, and Mulder sees her let out the breath she’s been holding as both he and Scully nod.

“Very much so,” he answers.

“I should have knocked again,” she replies. “Just to make sure you weren’t home. I know you’re both adults, and I didn’t mean to walk in on…that.”

“It won’t happen again,” promises Scully,

“No,” agrees Maggie, her lips twitching up into a smile. “Next time I should think you’d at least use the door chain to keep out unwanted visitors.”

anonymous asked:

hi scripty! so my main character was kidnapped + before she escaped, she was choked, punched in the face, pushed down a flight of stairs + shot in the stomach. right now i have her in ICU bc of hypovolemic shock but to make things really interesting + emotional, i need her to be unconscious/otherwise unresponsive for like 1.5 days. i liked the idea of sedation w propofol, espec bc at one point her bp/heart rate drop suddenly and they fear she wont make it + i believe i read somewhere (1)

(2) propofol can do that? i probably sound really dumb but i just want to make this is as realistic as possible so i wanted to ask you. she didn’t hit her head when she fell so no concussion. i know this is fiction but i just want to know if this is reasonable/logical/possible, i guess. also i know she won’t be wide awake and coherent when she wakes up but would she be completely out of it/loopy or just groggy? thanks and sorry if this doesn’t make any sense would she be able to breathe on her own for the most part or would she have to be placed on a ventilator? thanks and sorry again!!  😭

Hey there nonny! ER & ICU medicine is one of my wheelhouses, so let’s take a look at all of this! 

So first things first: you seem to have bypassed a super important part of this character’s medical journey. 

This gunshot. In the belly. This is an Un-Goodness. Hypovolemic shock is going to be from internal bleeding, which means something in there got hit. The liver and the spleen both bleed like hell from puncture wounds. 

She’s going to need surgery.

So here’s the thing: your character is going to have abdominal surgery once she gets to the ER. She’ll be evaluated, she’ll probably have a blood transfusion begun in the ER, and she’ll be sent into surgery to control the bleeding, repair the damage, and generally find out what happened. (Even with great imaging it can be impossible to tell what exactly was damaged internally; generally speaking, penetrating  abdominal trauma requires surgery to check on things.) 

After surgery she’ll be admitted to the ICU, where they’ll monitor her heart rate, blood pressure, blood oxygen levels, and more. 

Now, she should be pretty zonked, from the head injury, from the surgery, from the pain meds. So her not really being awake for the first day and a half or so after all of this is mostly believable, especially if she’s got a good nurse defending her from others who want to wake her up. 

Whether or not she’d be sedated is a whole other story, and honestly…

I don’t think she’d be sedated during her hospital stay, much less put on propofol (outside the OR, anyway). 

She’s got no head injury and no reason to go on a ventilator. She’ll be in pain from her wound, for sure, and from the surgery. But this will be managed by IV pain medication, such as IV morphine, hydromorphone/Dilaudid, or fentanyl (most likely in a trauma patient). This can make her super groggy without “sedating” her. 

(There is a special place in hell for ICUs that consider pain meds like fentanyl to be sedatives and to use them as such, but that’s another rant entirely.) 

During the surgery she would be anesthetized, and it might be with propofol (though for bleeding and serious trauma, I would think something that uses less propofol, such as propofol/ketamine AKA ketafol), or no propofol at all, such as a combination of fentanyl and midazolam and/or ketamine, would be more likely. 

But the point is, outside the OR, she likely won’t be sedated, unless she needs to stay on the ventilator. 

You want her blood pressure to drop and for her to nearly die again? 

Very simple: have an internal stitch rip when she shifts. She starts bleeding again internally and gets taken back into the OR for more surgery to repair the bleeding. (This also gives you lovely hours of your supporting characters waiting to find out whether she lives or dies.) This adds the drama of MOAR SURGERY, a longer period of uncertainty, and physical separation of the other characters. 

Now: As To Your Propofol Question

Let’s throw reality out the window, or change the situation to one where she needs a ventilator. Why? Because we can. (We could even make her need a ventilator in your scenario, with a complication from multiple transfusions known as Transfusion Related Acute Lung Injury, or TRALI, which is essentially the lungs reacting badly to Way Too Much Foreign Blood and causing a lot of edema, i.e. fluid, i.e. drowning. This results in a longer ICU stay, though.)

So let’s assume she’s on the vent, and to keep her on the vent, she’s been sedated. 

Yes, propofol causes hypotension. It is legendary for causing hypotension. But intensivists and anesthetists are well aware that it has that property, and there are a few workarounds they would tend to use to counterbalance that tendency.

1) Use a different sedative. Propofol and Versed/midazolam are both great sedatives, but if pressure is a concern, they may opt for another kind of sedation. They might use something like Precedex/dexmedetomidine, which doesn’t depress blood pressure. (In some cases, they might be put on a drip of – you knew this was coming! – ketamine. I’ve seen a switch from propofol to ketamine bump a patient’s blood pressure by 30 points.) 

1a: Switch her off of propofol when her pressure drops. Either let her wake up a bit or put her on a different medication. 

2) Compensate with pressors. Pressors are medications that raise blood pressure, such as Levophed / norepinehprine, which squeezes the blood vessels. 

Critically ill patients are often in a delicate balance between propofol and Levophed. They need the propofol to stay down and they need the Levophed to keep their pressure up. Again, this is a very common practice in the ICU. 

3) Add More Fluids. Fluids, such as normal saline or Ringer’s Lactate, will help… a bit. Temporarily. It’s a short-term fix, for a lot of reasons. But mostly because they don’t stay in the bloodstream for a long time (1/3 of the volume is lost into the interstitium in the first 3 hours), and they can cause electrolyte imbalances. 

4) Add More Blood Products. There are two products in particular I’m thinking of. Red blood cells (PRBCs) improve oxygen carrying capacity of the blood – making the character less “shocky” – and also improve blood pressure. And albumin helps raise pressures by essentially making the blood a bit thicker and thus pulling in fluid from the surrounding tissues, because the physics of fluids are kind of neat. 

But really, the number one reason for your character to have their blood pressure drop is to have their bleeding start again, and have them go back into the operating room

One Other Reason Her Blood Pressure Could Fall 

Sepsis. Sepsis is one of the Big Fears in abdominal trauma because the GI tract is full of bacteria, and bacteremia (bacteria in the blood) can trigger sepsis. Check out [the sepsis tag] for more! 

Phew! I hope this has helped! 

This is kind of a long and rambly post, so let me know if anything needs clarified. 

Thanks for your ask and I hope this helped! 

xoxo, Aunt Scripty


[Maim Your Characters: How Injuries Work in Fiction is out and can be yours! If you like books on writing and books about medicine (without all the jargon), check it out!] 

cocoa-and-rum  asked:

CS + post office AU

:D So umm, EF version of this prompt? 

In which Emma works at a post office in the little seaside town of Storybrooke and a certain pirate has begun to frequent the town and its post office far more than is normal.

“Emma! Your boyfriend is here!”

Her breath catches in her chest as Elsa’s voice floats up the stairs. Her body going still, she wonders if maybe she is quiet enough, Elsa will think her gone and then she won’t have to–

“Emma, I know you’re there! I’m off to the tavern for my break, come down and take care of the customers will you?”

Elsa’s voice falls away, the sound of a door opening and closing following her sentence. Emma lets out a groan, her forehead hitting her open book on the top of her desk.

“Come now love, promise I won’t bite!”

She curses under her breath, pushing her book away before standing up and finally making her way downstairs. As soon as her door opens, the sound of a dozen squawking birds fills her ears. 

Emma has been living in the little room above the post office in this little town by the sea for the last few years. Not the most glamorous of places for someone like her. An orphan with a skittish heart, she has always been afraid to lay roots down. Ready to run, ready to leave at the slightest possibility of hurt to her poorly bandaged heart. But, there was something different about Storybrooke. Something different about Elsa and Granny and Snow and David and all the people she had grown to know during her time here. Something safe, something easy, something that had begun to feel like home. 

And so, she had stayed.

(And it had nothing at all to do with him)

Keep reading

Cooking a meal for them - Seventeen (hip hop unit)


Cheol is so touched when he comes home to see you cooking dinner for you two. The table was set and a candle was lit in the middle. For a second his heart rate sped up, did he forget something important?

“Babe?” He puts his bag down and walks into the kitchen hesitantly.

“Hey sweetie.” You wrap an arm around his waist and press a kiss to his lips.

“What’s all this for?”

“Just because I love you.” You smile at him and stir the food once more before turning the burner off.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Hmm I’m not sure but~ if you love me you’ll do the dishes after.” You throw him a smirk and he nods wholeheartedly.

“You got it babe.” He helps bring the food over to the table and pulls your chair out for you.

“Happy anniversary.” You burst out into laughter as his face drops.

“I’m kidding!!” He clearly doesn’t appreciate your joking as he throws you a look that could kill.

“I love you~~” You grab his hand and his face eventually breaks into a smile.

“Yeah yeah I love you too.”

Originally posted by saysvteen


Everyone knows Wonwoo is extremely helpless in the kitchen, so when he came home to you cooking a meal for everyone he’d never felt more relieved.

It was his night to figure out what everyone should eat and of course everyone wanted something home cooked. Much to his displeasure he couldn’t get out of it, but thanks to you it’s not a problem.

“Did you call her?!” Mingyu looks a Wonwoo.

You nearly dropped the utensil in your hand as all thirteen boys came in the kitchen.

“No! She didn’t know I swear.” Wonwoo defends himself and walks up to you, kissing your temple.

“Didn’t know what? I just thought you guys would like a nice mea when you got home. Sorry for not telling anyone…” You practically shrink as all the boys stare at you.

“No no Y/n it’s fine, thank you. Ignore them. It was Wonwoos night to cook but he sure got lucky didn’t he?” Seungcheol tells you, partially scolding the others.

“I really am lucky, thank you for saving me.” Wonwoo laughs a little and brings you in for a proper hug.

“Alright anyone wanna set the table for me please?” You ask and of course Mingyu springs into action.

“Remind me to thank you in another way later tonight.” Wonwoo whispers in your ear, making you bite your lip.

“Wonwoo can you not stay off her for even a second?” Han asks making your boyfriend equally as flustered as you.

Originally posted by i-wonwoo


Mingyu was coming home from dance practice and was so ridiculously tired. All he wanted was to come home to you and cuddle for the rest of the night.

When he walked in and saw you in the kitchen with his apron around your waist his heart practically melted. You were still unaware of his presence in the kitchen and jumped when you turned around.

“Jeez Gyu you scared me! Why did you say anything?” You put the soup ladle down and wipe your hands on a rag before walking over to him.

When he doesn’t respond you’re immediately on red alert.

“Babe?” Your hands end up around his neck and he just sets his face in the crook of your neck.

Your fingers start absentmindedly stroking his hair.

“Round day?” You ask and feel him nod in response.

“You go shower, I’ll finish up here okay?” You pull away and plant a kiss on his cheek.

He complies and walks to the bathroom knowing he’s the luckiest guy in the world to have someone like you.

Originally posted by moncheriwonwoo


When the thirteen boys walked into the dorm to the smell of something amazing they all looked at Vernon.

You hear their whispers and murmurs from the doorway and you walk into their vision.

“Anyone hungry?” You ask and all the boys nod.

“Perfect! Everything should be ready in five to ten minutes so you guys can go ahead and relax.” You smile sweetly at them and they all let out relieved groans.

Vernon walks into the kitchen instead of following the other boys to the couch. He notices your apparels and pulls you away from the stove and towards him. You look at him with a weird look and he chuckles.

“What? Your apron says kiss the cook so…” And with that said he cupped both hands on your cheeks and kissed you lovingly.

“Thank you for being so good to us.”

You pull away with a huge smile on your face and pat his head. “It’s my pleasure, now if you don’t mind…”

“Right right sorry I’ll let you cook.” Vernon kisses your cheek and goes back into the living room.

You hear a bunch of yells and hollers from the boys when he joins them again.

“Dude you’re so whipped.”

Originally posted by sneezes

anonymous asked:

I graduated with a BA in art history last year. I took a break and am now feeling lost about how to continue my education. The art history program at my school was incredibly small and in retrospect I feel as though my undergrad education ended up being an incomplete due to apathetic professors/advisers and a limited range of courses. I don't feel intellectually prepared for grad school but I still want to continue studying art history. Do you have any advice for the next step I should take?

Thanks for writing! I’m so sorry to hear that you feel as though your undergraduate education was not as whole as it should have been. Course selection can make or break educational experience in many fields, especially art history, where courses often build off each other. To fill in any gaps in knowledge you feel you have, and prepare for graduate-level coursework in the process, the best advice I can offer is to read books and journal articles in those areas. The History of Art Series published by Oxford University Press is a good place to start book-wise, and JSTOR’s free Register & Read program is a godsend for journal articles. 

If you have the time, another option to continue studying art history before enrolling in graduate school is taking online art history courses offered through websites like Coursera, MIT OpenCourseWare, OpenLearn (courses offered by Open University), or MoMA. TED-Ed also offers brief video lessons on a variety of art historical and visual culture topics. Some of these classes will be more academically rigorous and stimulating than others; hopefully you will find some that are relevant. 

It could be useful to explore the Getty Research Portal for digitized art history publications, rare books, and related literature. For free e-books about architectural history, take a look at this list compiled by Arch20. Finally, you can search for scholarly papers on topics that you’re interested in.

I’m not sure if your college gave you a solid foundation in art history theory and methodology, but if this isn’t something you are familiar with, I recommend studying this in your spare time before entering graduate school. The University of Illinois library has an online subject guide containing a fantastic list of books on theory.

Did your coursework give you a sense of what you might want to specialize in in graduate school? If so, in addition to studying and reading about aspects of art history that your college didn’t familiarize you with, you should also read as much as you can about your area of focus. Get familiar with the cornerstones of scholarship in your field now, if you aren’t already, so you can draw from it from Day 1 in your graduate program. 

On a related note, do you have reading knowledge of at least 1 language other than English (preferably related to your specialty, if you have one)? If not, this is another area to work on, as knowing at least one more language allows you to understand more scholarship, and, in some cases, primary sources, inscriptions in/on artworks, archives, curatorial files, and the like. 

Lastly, you might find my guide ‘Applying to Graduate School in Art History’ to be helpful.  I discuss how to decide whether or not graduate school is the right choice, how to evaluate and select programs to apply to, and what elements comprise a typical application. There are also printable worksheets that you can use to guide you through the decision and application process. 

In your personal statement, you might want to describe your experiences as an undergraduate, highlighting your academic strengths, and describing the ways that you have worked to increase your knowledge and skillset after graduation. 

I hope this helps! 

Good Biddings #1

(All of the rest of these chapters will be posted on AO3! Idk if illpist them here, shrug, but here’s a sneak peak of what’s to come {with extra long chapters owo} so enjoy!)

Omegas are sluts.

Omegas are slaves.

Omegas are only good for having children.

Alphas are strong.

Alphas are smart.

Alphas will protect you.

These were things taught to every Omega since the minute they presented, the second they realized their secondary gender; or rather, the second everybody found out, they were forced to wear ID like some kind of animal, almost a collar. They had tags, the name of the omega and once they mated, the name and contact information of their Alpha, like some kind of pet. It’s not like everyone couldn’t smell who was what, but this was a way for the cameras placed in every town to identify, as alphas and betas didn’t have to wear them, and once mated? A way of contacting your Alpha in case you got lost or stolen, again, like some kind of pet.

Keith stood in the mirror, examining the red rope around his neck. It wasn’t rope, it was some kind of indestructible cord that was measured and cut to each individual Omega. He scowled, at least they got to pick their colours, well, they got to pick until they were mated; then their alpha would pick, of course. Keith had tried everything to dig the rope off, multiple times. It stood vibrantly against his porcelain skin, accompanied only by a scar across his neck that he’d gotten from a failed attempt to cut it off in which the blade slipped and nearly slit his throat open. He sometimes wished it /had/ slit his throat, then he could forget that he wanted to live his life, follow his dreams.

For as long as he could remember, Keith wanted to be an astronaut, a pilot to go into space and explore the worlds. He read the books he owned, saved his money for more books, he was confident in the fact that he could do better than any /fucking alpha/ in the course. Omegas however, are not allowed a secondary education.

Omegas had no such luck, they were forced, the second they presented, to leave their homes and go to an Omegan school, one that taught each individual how to act, how to serve, all of the sensitive spots on Alphas to help relieve stress or to help them sexually, how to cook, clean. It was disgusting. It was sexist. It was horrendous and Keith hated every second of it, he’d purposefully done bad the first year, that’s when he was told if his marks kept at that pace he’d have to do the whole thing again, so he became average, doing just well enough to pass. Here Keith was, shirtless in the bathroom of his dorm, staring at this stupid collar that only his future Alpha held the key to, this stupid collar that he’d need an Alpha to get off. He scoffed, he’d have to suck or ride dick in order to get it off, let someone mark him, taking his collar off just so teeth could sink in and the cord could be placed again around his neck.

He brushed his dark hair behind his ear. “No.” He stated bluntly, to no one in particular, “never.”

Never. He’d live with the collar, but he was never getting mated, never depending on some selfish, asshole-Alpha.

He grabbed a grey v-neck t-shirt that sat on the small counter space of the bathroom that only held a shower and a sink; no toilet, if you, an Omega, had to pee, you were forced to go to the floor-bathrooms, with zero privacy to do your business. He didn’t know why he couldn’t take a leak, but apparently he needed supervision to do so. He slid the shirt over his head and passed his broad shoulders. His hands rested on his stomach when he had pulled it all the way down, smirking in defiance. /Omegas are supposed to be soft, delicate with no muscles or scars./ fuck them, Keith had the scar on his neck, Keith had abs and biceps, Keith wasn’t going to conform to that bullshit.

Keith was not some Omega /slut/ who wanted to be bred and mated.

Blue, Lances favourite colour. He looked in the mirror, admiring the cord that sat nicely around his neck, smiling. ‘One day there going to be another tag on it.’ He thought to himself 'my alpha.’ The thought made a gentle rumble tickle his throat, a soft purring noise. He let out a sigh of contentment at the thought, bringing a damp cloth he had prepared up to his face, wiping at the green skin-mask he had there. When it was gone he looked in the mirror, checking and double checking to make sure he got it all, appreciating the way his skin glowed. He took particularly good care of his skin, of course. Most Omegas made sure they didn’t have blemishes or bruises or scrapes, but Lance took /special/ care, he wanted to make sure he looked his best for whatever Alpha bid on him.

The Auction.

The Auction was an annual event that took place on the campus of the Omegan school in which Alphas would gather to bid on the graduating Omegas from that years classes. The highest bidder took their prize home and did as they pleased with them. Should the Omega refuse, a challenge is to take place, a small duel of sorts in a provided space in which there would be a fight between the Alpha and Omega, the winner got their way.

Needless to say, the Alpha always got their way.

Lance wouldn’t challenge whoever bid on him, he wouldn’t stand a chance against even a weaker alpha, all he could do was hope he got a nice, affectionate mate that wasn’t old and creepy and that would love him.

Today was The Auction.

Lance carefully brushed his hair, styling and re-styling until it was perfect. He smiled at his work proudly, turning to leave the bathroom, he would’ve put on make-up but that wasn’t allowed at The Auction, ’/false advertisement/’ they called it, that irked Lance a little, but he brushed it off. He found his nice dress shirt and vest, putting the light blue button-up on and sliding the dark, royal blue vest over it. He pulled black, fitted dress pants on, ones that hugged his butt snugly, showing it off. He struggled to tuck in his shirt but he eventually got it, slid on his shoes, and walked out the door of his small dorm.

There were a few other Omegas in the halls of his floor, everyone dressed up nicely. He noticed a few nice dresses on the females as well as a few select males, which wasn’t unheard of, and a few other with suits and dress shirts, one with jeans and a t-shirt.

Jeans and a t-shirt? Lance trailed his eyes to the head of raven hair that bobbed as the Omega walked, the blue-suited Omega groaned, frowning; ’/Keith/’ he would know that mullet anywhere. Oh well, his problem.

Lance returned the few greetings he got as he walked down the hall, not interacting further than the brief “hello” and “best of luck.” As everyone made their way to the elevators and stairs. He opted out for the stairs, deciding it would be quicker than waiting for an opportunity to go down on the lift. He thudded down the near-empty sway, it was a quick trip and he smirked at how his tag bounced with his motions.

The lobby of the school was already crowded with a hoard of Alphas and Omegas, mingling. He smiled, this was the part he was looking forward to, meeting the bidders that were going to be attending the auction. Many of the bigger men and women were grouped around select Omegas, the few poor souls that had their heats. Lance thanked god that he was half-way to getting his next one, nowhere near the threat of having slick drenching his pants. He was met by a few side glances, a few hungry eyes and a few indifferent bodies that didn’t even look at him. He swallowed, suddenly feeling very warm, this was terrifying. His future mate was in this room, the person he’d either love or hate to spend the rest of his life with.

There were so many people here, bidding would be high this year, too many Alphas, not enough Omegas. Shiro looked around, he’d come last year, against his will, he didn’t agree with this distasteful sexism. He scowled, checking his watch, only another thirty minutes to The Auction, which usually lasted an hour. Shiro was 27, most Alphas came here as early as they could, eager to find an Omega to breed and take care of, not Shiro, he was forced by law to start attending at the age of 25, he hated that law.

Shiro adjusted his tie, yeah, he hated The Auction, but it was expected for everyone to dress up. He glanced around, looking over most of the bodies in the room. He lurched forward, taken back by a weight pushing against him from behind. He caught himself before he could fall but glanced over his shoulder in annoyance, bright blue eyes stared back.

“I’m so sorry!” The small Omega apologized, hands up in surrender, he caught Shiros eye, instantly looking down out of respect “I’m so, so, sorry Alpha.” He addressed. Shiro sighed, his expression softening. He turned around to face the dark-haired figure. He was an attractive man, brown hair curling around his bronze skin, blue centred outfit that complimented his bright blue eyes.

Shiro caught himself staring, looking down the body of the Omega and glancing back up again, “don’t apologize,” he offered “it was an accident.”

This seemed to make the boy perk up a little, at least his head wasn’t down anymore, a smile graced his lips and Shiro felt truly blessed.

“What’s your name?” Shiro asked lightly, a part of him twisted when the Omega looked surprised, shocked that the first thing an alpha wanted to know about him was his name and not something like 'have you had your first heat?’ Or 'how many knots have you taken?’

“L-Lance.” He supplied, stammering as his face turned red “might I ask yours?” He seemed cautious, like asking for his name was a slur.

“Shiro, my pleasure to meet you.” This sent Lances face bright pink and a welcomed smell filled the small area very faintly, barely selective around so many bodies, Lance was nervous. This made Shiro suppress a small laugh, “are you alright? You seem flustered.”

“A-Am I alright?” Lance echoed, his face twisting into even more embarrassment “I-I’m fine, alpha I-”

“Shiro” he corrected, noticing the bob of Lances Adam’s apple as the man swallowed dryly.

“/Shiro/” Lance breathed “I just, I’m surprised.” He explained, taking a careful step forward. “Most people would’ve slurred at me for tripping into them, or would’ve gotten mad at me for speaking without being spoken to, or-”

“Sexist bullshit.” Shiro breathed, making Lances eyes widen. He looked around, as if worried someone might’ve heard Shiro, which of course they didn’t in a crowd this busy. “You’re a human being, yeah?”

Lance raised an eyebrow, as if it was a trick question, “…yes?”

“Then you should be treated like one.” Something in Lance clicked and the alpha could see it, his eyes lighting up and a smile taking place on his lips, it all faded suddenly at a realization.

“Then what are you doing at The Auction?” He asked curiously, taking one more step closer to Shiro.

“Legally, I have to go for 5 years at the age of 25, after that I’m free to do as I please, continue coming here or live my life mateless, or, should someone cross my path, mate on my own terms.” He supplied, making Lances eyes widen again, “I’ve been coming for 2 years, this is my third Auction.”

“So, you’d never buy an Omega?” Lance questioned, popping out his hip and raising an eyebrow, a coy smirk finding his face as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. His vest shifted, reflecting the gentle light of the room, it was silky.

Shiro had thought about it before “well,” he began “I would, but only under specific circumstances.” He began, this time it was his turn to shift closer to Lance “if I were at the Mixer portion of the evening, and I met one of the Omegas for Auction,” he continued, shifting his gaze to look thoughtfully, a smirk on his lips “and we hit it off, and started chatting,” he glanced back down to Lance, “then maybe, I’d ask them if it was alright if I bid on them.” He concluded, “but of course, if they said no, I’d step away and never bother them again.” He took a step back, realizing that he’d gotten extremely close to Lance.

The omega looked completely flustered, hands pulling at the fabric of his vest as he stared at the floor. “A-and, if the Omega asked you to bid on /them/?” He muttered, just loud enough for Shiro to hear, looking up at the man with his eyes, not moving his head.

“That also depends,” he stated, “on whether or not I feel a connection.” Lance looked almost disappointed, almost. Shiro wished he could’ve caught more of the expression, tried to figure it out.

“Oh, well, I should go.” Lance offered, “I’m sure you would rather be left alone if you’re not buying.”

Shiro pushed forward, gently grabbing Lances wrist before he could walk away “nobody said I wasn’t buying.” He felt his cheeks heat up, avoiding eye contact, he could feel that intense blue stare on him.

“W-what?” Lance sputtered, gently tugging his hand free from Shiros grasp “but you just said-”

“I said, if I found one I enjoyed talking to,” he smiled, looking up to Lance “of course, I haven’t had enough time to chat with you, but I’d like to, if that’s alright.” He composed himself, bringing his hand back to his side “of course if you’d rather socialize to try and coax a bidder, that’s fine.” He offered, looking around. “But I’d like to enjoy some appetizers with you.”

Lance shook his head “we can’t have the food.”

“No,” Shiro corrected “you can’t take the food from the trays,” he scowled “again, sexist /bullshit/, but I’d gladly get some for you if you’d like.” Lance seemed star-struck, staring up at Shiro. He gave a slight nod, “anything catching your eye?” Shiro looked around at the few betas that filled the room; the waitresses and waiters.

Lance didn’t say anything but he looked at the contents of the trays, something seemed to catch his eye but he glanced away quickly. “It’s fine, I don’t need anything, this figure doesn’t keep up by itself” he teased, winking at Shiro which made the alpha blush. “Pink looks good on you, Shiro,” he nudged the man “you should wear it more often.”

Shiro glanced down to himself, he wasn’t wearing pink? Wait- was Lance talking about the blush? He looked up, opening his mouth to say something but the Omega was gone. He glanced around the room, catching a flash of brunette hair moving through the crowd, a smile gracing his lips.

“Lance.” He whispered to himself, Lance was a nice name, there was something about the man that he just couldn’t put his finger on. His ocean blue eyes that danced with a million different shades, the half smile that he got, the way he glowed when Shiro talked to him.

Shiro had told himself he wouldnt bid on an Omega, but somehow, Lance had changed his mind, of course he still disagreed with this whole thing, but should Lance let him? He was going to bid on the Blue Omega.

Keith stood at the edge of the room, glaring around at all the sick fucks that gathered here, scowling.

“Nobody’s going to bid on you with an expression like that.” He heard the voice from beside him, a brunette Omega wearing blue.

“Who says I /want/ anyone bidding on me?” He countered, watching the Omega fill his cup with the cheaper punch that was at the Omega table. Not much of a table, it was smaller than the one for the guests, holding only a punch bowl and a few trays of crackers. “Who are you? Why do you care who bids on me?”

“I’m Lance.” He replied “and I don’t care, it’s your own demise.” He stated bluntly, taking a sip of punch. “Better to at least get someone your age or attractive.”

“As opposed to?” Keith countered, they all seemed terrible in his opinion.

“Some old rich dude, looking for eye-candy to latch onto his arm.” Lance explained, scanning the room. Keith hadn’t even thought of that, it would be bad enough for him to end up with any alpha, none-the-less one a million years old. “You’re Keith, right? I saw you up in the dorms earlier.”

“Y-yeah, I’m Keith,” he stuttered, looking around the room at all the different bodies.

“Alright, /Keith/, I’m going to be perfectly straight with you, well, as straight as I can be, I’m gay, but-” this warrented a small smirk from the blue Omega, which made Keith’s eyes light up slightly, “that’s not important, what is important is that you’re attractive, you have nice clean skin, your hair compliments your complexion, your eyes are pretty,” he rambled on, Keith’s face changed to a light shade of pink at the praise. “Now you just need to change that personality, go out there, socialize.”

“I’ve been training for 6 years, the entirety of this stupid school, I’ve been working out, I’ve been teaching myself self defence Lance, I’m not getting bought today.” He growled, the blush gone “I’m going to challenge any alpha fucker that bids on me.” Lance just raised a doubtful eyebrow before sighing.

“Of course you are. Fine, a word of advice?” Lance took another sip of his punch “I don’t know if you paid any attention in the classes, or even if you took some of the electives but in the pleasuring class we learned about pressure points. They’re usually used to make Alphas feel good but I suppose it would work as a way to distract them and make them weaker.” Keith was intrigued, he eagerly stepped forward, regretting every class he didn’t pay attention to or didn’t take


Lance walked away from the punch table, he couldn’t believe he just told Keith every pressure point on an Alphas body; groin, tailbone, side of their ribs, their collar bones and their hips. Lance had aced that class.

“Lance!” A familiar voice drew him from his thought and he glanced around.

“Shiro?” The tall alpha was walking towards him with two napkins, one in each hand.

He pushed between a few bodies that were moving, a few that weren’t, getting frustrated by the lack of cooperation. Lance had to laugh at the odd glare he’d send to an unknowing victim. Finally the taller man made it and smiled “hey, you kinda disappeared earlier.” He breathed.

“Had to make my rounds, I see you’ve found me again, none the less.” He smirked, hopeful. Shiro was strong, attractive, /nice/, Lance wanted Shiro, too bad the alpha didn’t bid unless the stars aligned.

“Well, yeah.” He said, as if it were obvious, “I promised you food.” He handed Lance one of the napkins, it had an assortment of different sugary looking things on it. Lance felt his face heat up, these were the ones he wanted?

“H-how did you know that I-”

“You were staring at the tray with these on it.” He supplied, Lance sniffed the light purple cloth in his hands, his face lighting up, they smelled even better than they looked. His hand gingerly shifted the treats into one palm, his now-free digits reaching for one of the snacks. There were four, a lightly powdered red one, a chocolate-looking square one, and two that looked like gummies. He wanted the chocolate one, chocolate was Lances favourite and he hadn’t had it in /years/, the school didn’t provide such luxuries and Omegas weren’t allowed to get jobs to buy things. He hesitated, deciding to reach for the powdered one first, he’d save the brown treat for last. He picked it up and took a bite, the taste dancing on his tongue and mixing with his spit, thickening it and leaving a sweet strawberry taste. He purred affectionately, he hadn’t had something so delicate in forever. “Good?” Shiro asked expectantly, eyes shimmering hopefully. Lance nodded, giving a thumbs up as he swallowed.

“Amazing.” He confirmed, “here.” Lance looked onto Shiros napkin and found the identical treat, picking it up between two of his slim digits and reaching for Shiros mouth as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. “Open up.”

Shiros expression was dumb-founded and Lance swore he could see the inklings of a blush as the alpha complied and Lance gently set the sweetness into his mouth. He pulled his fingers out, wiping them on his dress shirt so the weren’t covered in icing sugar. Shiros eyes seemed to light up and dazzled with contentment, he made a “mhmm” sound in agreement as he nodded. Lance couldn’t help but smile at how the man of such stature was enthralled with the wonderment of a child.

Lance grabbed the two gummies, both red, and placed them into his mouth. Despite the fact that they were hard to chew and stick to his teeth, they were also quite enjoyable. He closed his eyes in appreciation, his hand settling on his lips to cover his chewing as he spoke “dese are hard do chew.” He struggled with the words as his jaw stuck together, ignoring the small laugh from Shiro that made his heart swell. When he finally opened his eyes when he had swallowed, smiling lightly.

Chocolate, Lances favourite food in the world. He widened his eyes eagerly at the piece, lifting his hand to grab it. As if on cue, the napkin was suddenly slapped from his hands and fell to the floor. He watched it in surprise, the way the chocolate slipped from his grasp. He made a small whining noise before looking to the face that met his.

“Such delicacies are for the guests,” a cool voice breathed, the man was tall and limber, his pale skin made him look terrifying against his long white hair. Blue eyes pierced Lances, “not for Omegas.”

Lance hadn’t realized he wasn’t speaking until a figure pushed defensively in front of him “I gave it to him.” Shiro explained, a growl accenting his voice “the rules say he can’t take food from the trays, he didnt, I did.” He stated. Lance felt small behind Shiro, peeking over his shoulder to see the previous man bristling, eyes narrowed in a scowl.

“Still, Omegas deserve no more than they need.” He muttered defiantly, which just made Shiros shoulders go up in frustration, effectively blocking Lances view.

“Omegas deserve just as much respect as any alpha, we’re all human beings.” This earned a scoff, Lance could practically hear the eyeroll. “You just ruined his food, I suggest you leave, apologize, or get him some more.” Shiro growled again, a warning sound. Lances hand rested nimbly onto Shiros upper arm.

He stared at the white-haired Alpha like he was trying to burn holes into his head, the only thing bringing him from the glare being the soft touch on his arm. He turned to Lance, giving the man his attention. “Don’t worry about it, Shiro, he’s right, I shouldn’t be eating the food.”

“/Shiro?/” the other alpha seethed, making the taller look back towards him. “Address him as alpha, skank.”

Shiro bared his teeth, he wanted to fight this man, his eyebrows knit and he pressed a hand against the Alphas chest, forcefully pushing him an arms length away, making him stumble slightly. “Don’t call him a skank.” He stated bluntly, “Lance, don’t call me Alpha,” his gaze didn’t falter and he got no confirmation from Lance other than a slight squeeze of reassurance on his arm.

The opposing alpha pursed his lips and huffed in exasperation, turning to leave the area, making Shiro smile triumphantly. He turned back to Lance and the smile faded. He was looking at the ground, a frown on his face. “I was saving that.” He muttered, Shiro knew it was more to himself than to the alpha. The brunette squatted, trying not to get in people’s way as he picked up the chocolate and placed it in the napkin, wrapping it so he could throw it away when he was given the opportunity.

Shiro had started to bend over to help, pausing only when Lance stood back up, his eyes met the Alphas.

In hindsight, at the end of the day, Shiro supposed that was the second he fell for Lance. The way his blue eyes, despite the prickling sadness, dazzled with appreciation, gratitude towards the alpha. His hair brushed against his cheeks and he brought his delicate fingers up to brush it behind his ear. The omegas lips were soft and Shiro wanted desperately to embrace them, claim them as his own. His eyelashes settled on his cheeks when he blinked, long enough to grace them briefly. “Nobody’s ever stood up for me before.” He breathed.

Shiro felt warm, he had made Lance feel safe. His entire chest swelled and was surprised by his own words, his eyes widening as soon as the man spoke.

“I want to bid on you.”