so this is the reason why i turn off auto correct

DEEP (TOG College AU) Part ii

Nesryn’s life was supposed to be all laid out in front of her. Get through college, continue on her gymnastics career, and eventually get into the Olympics. Easy, right? But after a terrible accident, she’s been scared to step foot anywhere near a tumbl trak. Plus, she’s got her ex-bf to worry about, friends that have equal problems of their own and him. The guy that starts with an ‘S’ and ends in trouble-town. [Part 2/3]

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anonymous asked:

OMG i totally meant whipped **richie in my ask forgive me lol

A/N: so. regardin my asks, and this fuckin one in particular. i was originally going to answer this earlier, but i kept makin different versions of it and it pissed me right the fuck off. so i decided i’d post all of them. i’d probably pick one and make into a full length fic but o fuckin well

I.    80’s. The Starcrossed Lovers of Hanlon’s Motors and Mrs. K’s.

Eddie sniffs as he curls closer to Richie, playing with the long fingers in the other boy’s hands. They’ve been lying in bed for the better part of the day, Eddie’s mom not even knowing that her own son’s gentleman caller is here in her house, in her boy’s bed, with her very own son draped on the town’s local ‘trouble maker’. Oh, if she knew. She’d probably cut off Richie’s dick herself and make her son wear it like a rosary.

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Bad Habit

Originally posted by stuckyfeelwithskeletonclique

Part 6

(Pietro Maximoff x Reader)

You finally have Pietro’s location, but what will you find?

Words: 1732  Warnings: Mentions of blood & dead bodies, angry Wanda

An: Hope you like it, the next chapter will be posted this time next week 😜 x

Tags: @goal-mine, @aweways,  @iamtheoneocares,  @wellfuckbuck, (Let me know if you want to be tagged/removed in this or anything else)

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6   Part 7   Part 8

Masterlist |  Requests

“I can’t sense him, something’s wrong.” Wanda’s voice drifted down the corridor as you approached the flight deck with Bucky.

“Y/n, its not a good idea.”

Bucky was right but you dismissed him. You wanted to plead with her, tell her how you felt his pain and heard his screams just as she had. You never wanted him to leave, you were sorry, you just had to make her see that.

Yet when you stepped onto the flight deck and saw her what was left of your resolve fell away. The way her eyes flashed scarlet and bore into yours, her face set into and angry glare, you knew nothing would help your case. She hated you. Whether it was your fault or not, you were her outlet for blame, a channel for all her worry and anger.

“What is she doing here?!” Wanda hissed, red mist circling her hands.

“Wanda,” Steve rose from his seat and put his hand on Wanda’s shoulder, she flinched away from him, “she can help us.”

“She is good for nothing…”

“Don’t force me to leave you on the jet.” Steve warned her.

Though her powers stopped flowing through her hands, her eyes blaze with anger and she approaches you, Bucky quickly moving his body in front of yours shielding you. She ignored him and kept her eyes on you, she was terrifying.

“Stay out of my way y/n, and know if Pietro doesn’t survive this,” she scoffed at Bucky, “no one will protect you from me.”

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Penny for the boatman

So I’m replaying Dishonored for the third time this week (no mom I don’t have a problem I can quit whenever I want) and I just had a revelation which just floored me a little bit. I’m no doubt not the first person to realize this, but god damn I’m so excited I’m going to rant about it anyway. Caution if you haven’t played the game or if you don’t want to know what happens this is SPOILER HEAVY

This is Samuel Beechworth*, The Boatman:
*edited to fix name because somehow I missed that particular auto correct from my original mobile draft.

His job is to ferry you (and the others) over the river which divides the city of Dunwall into the two districts, the abandoned district where you and your cohorts are hiding, and the parts of the city where life still prevails, if somewhat corrupt and festering, though—and this is important—not entirely without hope.

Usually he will offer you token pieces of advice, like which streets to avoid, how the mood of the city is fairing and generally just wishing you luck. During non combat moments when you can interact with other characters, many of the characters will offer you little tidbits of conversation, some of it relevant, some of it a glimpse into how they are fairing under circumstances. Samuel usually offers the same words, sometimes about the sea, but usually about how he’s ready to leave when you are. Samuel is there to serve, and unlike the others, even the servants who always seem to be thinking of ulterior motives for why they are there with the Loyalists and how to escape and never return, he truly believes it. He is there to serve.

It is my firm belief that were you (Corvo) to turn up years later at Samuel’s door with your mask on, the old sailor would look down at his slippers and tell you to give him a moment to put his boots on.*

Depending on your Chaos levels (High: You done killed everyone son) (Low: You either did not kill anyone or you killed very few people (son)) the characters will interact with you differently (as well as altering how the final mission is played). If you are a high chaos player (And I was the first time, even though I thought I was playing neutral because I eliminated the main npcs in a neutral manner but was remiss with the others. Spoiler Alert, that’s not how being a good person works, just another example of why Dishonored has a better moral compass than the majority of games that claim to test your moral reasoning, looking at you Fable as well as allowing for a truly stealth immersive environment with actual consequences to your actions) But none are quite like Samuel.

There comes that particular moment in the game (if you’ve played it you know the part) which leaves you shouting “screw you guys!” every time you play the game again, but regardless of your Chaos level, Samuel always comes through for you. Even if you are playing High Chaos, Samuel does his duty and comes for you. He might be furiously disappointed in you, (or even disgusted as he expresses to you if you are playing High Chaos on your final boat ride together which will break your heart, especially if you thought you were being a Good Person until the game schooled you about how the little people in wars always matter more so than the politicians who can be replaced at the drop of a vote or an axe better than my school education ever did) but Samuel knows there is still work left to be done, and Samuel will never falter, even when you fall from grace. I spent the entirety of the game assuming that the Outsider, an indifferent and dark powered god, would weigh my soul at the end of it.

I was not expecting Samuel.

Samuel is literally The Boatman. He is Charon, the ferryman of Hades who takes you on your final journey, from the land of the living to that of the dead. He does this regardless of whether or not you have lived a good life or a bad one. It is his duty. He is there to serve. In some versions of the mythos if you lack the coin to pay him, he will cut you adrift and leave you stranded to wander alone, lost and suffering for years to come.

In Dishonored, Samuel asks for no material payment, but in his judgement of you, if you have killed without thought, or worsened the lives of innocent people, Samuel will pronounce judgement on not just you, but everyone.

“So the Admiral is power mad, Martin is a snake, and “Lord” Pendleton is a coward. And you Corvo…the things you’ve done…You could be the worst of us. I’ve seen a lot traveling with you. Now get off my boat. I’d wish you good luck, but I’d be lying. I don’t like what you’ve become, that’s why I’m going to tell them you’re coming. Get off the boat.”

And you are left stranded on the shore to wade through the very Hell you have wrought. You even get to see how it pans out long after you’re dead. And Samuel was right. You were the worst of them all, because you could have done something to prevent it. He is Charon the Boatman, but he is also your moral compass. And you had best hope you’ve paid your dues.

Because the Boatman will always take you where you ought to go in the end.



*(I like to think Emily makes him into her personal captain, and he takes her on leisurely rides along the river front. When they reach the area where the Hound Pitt Pub used to be they’ll both sit in silence as the engine winds down and the boat is carried on the current, both knowing that the two of them are remembering the time when an eight year old girl wearing the same white, soiled outfit she wore on the day her mother was murdered came running out of the rat infested streets, heading for the old man Corvo told her would be waiting on the water. She’s trying to be brave, but she’s shaking. And Samuel who never married and never had children, lifts her gently into his boat and does the only thing he knew how to do. He shows her how all the controls work, and tells her stories about mermaids and pirates and the song of the whales late at night. All the while keeping an eye out for you, knowing that if you don’t return it’s up to him to take the future Empress away to safety, his hands ever on the controls should a guard come by, telling himself “just one more minute” and hoping you will appear on the horizon. Years later, Empress Emily the first, dressed in white, takes out a battered old boat kept at the back of the docks, and pilots it herself out into the middle of the river and sits alone, listening to the song of the whales as the sun sets, one last time. Because even Boatmen must sale on in the end.)

{EDIT}

I just finished the game (CLEAN HANDS!) again and was going through my screenshots and remembered I had taken one of Samuel in his boat, with the intention of looking up the name of the boat if and when I ever remembered.

And I just:

The boat is called ‘Amaranth’, which as well as being a plant, is Greek for “unwilting”. The Amarant(h) is considered to be a symbol of immortality in Greek folklore.

Samuel is literally on the immortal boat ferrying you between the path which leads to chaos and ruin, and the path which leads to peace and remembrance through your good deeds. Death is inevitable, but which side you end up on is entirely your own doing.

I cannot fucking EVEN WITH THE PEOPLE THAT DEVELOPED THIS GAME. WHERE DO THE LEVELS OF INTRICACY END?!

Cinders - Chapter 18/36

Originally posted by lmmortalnova

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SUMMARY: The fire crackling in your leg forces you to wander the halls in search of release, your body making it’s way to Geoff and his immortal nightmares occupying the kitchen.

WC: 2549

You wake in the early hours of the morning, the light filtering through your closed curtains scatters washes of pinks and blues throughout the room. It takes a moment for you to gather your thoughts and compile them into something comprehensible, but when you do a smile presses itself to your lips as you flit your eyes open. Slumbering next to you is Ryan, his hair a mess of sandy waves around his tranquil face, smooth and free of stress lines. You wish you could stay like this forever, encased in his arms and utterly lost in the curves of his body, the strength of his bare shoulders and the arc of his lowers back.

The pain sizzling through your leg, however, has other ideas. It aches restlessly, incessantly pestering you until you manage to detach yourself from Ryan, begging for movement. Giving in you let yourself sink into auto pilot, shuffling across the room with a stretch and yawn before quietly opening your closet to remove an oversized hoodie from its depths. Silently you slip it over your head, the fabric brushing just above your knees as you hop into your underwear and a pair of socks.

Snatching at the charger Ray had provided you with after the reattachment surgery you sneak out of the room, the soles of your feet pressing onto the cold hallway, empty and hollow. You go where your legs take you, aimlessly following the lights your cybernetic threw across the ground. It wasn’t an easy silence, rather the atmosphere hung heavily and draped across your shoulders, anxious in anticipation. You continue to walk, refusing to stop until your body grows comfortable, finding yourself stood in the middle of the warm kitchen once your mind refocuses.

The room was incredibly large, resembling a casual diner with small booths dotted along the walls and extravagant plush chairs circling rich wooden tables. The floors stretch out in beams, tracing underneath the long bench that stretches half of the space, sectioning off the dining area from the cluttering of kitchen draws and appliances. Ghosting, you shuffle into one of the booths and relax into the comfortable cushions in advance of leaning beneath the table. You locate the power point easily, smoothly plugging your charger into the source before connecting the wire to the port on the inside of your knee, sinking into the blissful hum that courses through your leg; the lights glowing a healthier blue.

You sit like this, curling your body up onto the bench and snuggling into the wall, your eyes drifting closed every so often to allow your mind to wander; exploring the world without consequence. In your mind’s eye you find yourself stood by the ocean, the sun warm against your skin and sand smooth between your toes. Letting your body drift further into peace you focus on the whispering breeze, watching as the blue ocean swell; the colour achingly familiar as it separates you from the flames across the water, crackling and desperate.

A soft snoring catches your attention and you reluctantly find yourself back in the kitchen, eyes sore and shoulder tense while you lean against the wall. Searching the space, you smile as your eyes fall on a dozing Geoff perched at a table with a book in front of him, his cheek pressed to the open pages. You consider leaving him until his breathing grows desperate, his once pleasant dreams shifting as his face twists unconsciously in terror.

Quickly you unplug yourself, the humming in your joints now ceasing as you make your way towards the empty seat beside him. Laying a careful hand on his shoulder you rock him awake, smiling at him as his eyes shoot to your face before he calms down. “You alright there, Pops?” you tease, pulling away as he raises his arms above his head to pop his shoulders and let out an extraordinary yawn. “Yeah, I am now; thanks kid,” he replies, voice husky from sleep, “what’re you doing up this early?” You hold up the charger to him, the small bullet having been designed after your leg in appearance. “Juicing up,” you joke, handing it to him so that he may inspect it further.

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BAD TEMPER V + MASTERLIST + AO3


A/N: Okay but this is possibly the cutest chapter yet, or at least towards the end it is, and I’m pretty happy with its outcome and I hope you all are as well! Also, I’m digging all these nicknames the two little shits keep giving each other and it’s probably gonna be a reoccurring theme. I got a bit carried away so sorry that it’s extra long this time around! Enjoy, my lovely readers :)

Word Count: 6K+

Warning: Profanity.


Sneaking out of the resistance hangar wasn’t the easiest thing, let alone, getting to it–especially when your bet friend [Poe] lived and breathed there. It was pretty easy at first, after showering and eating something, you walked along the halls like any other respected Resistance officer. Here and there you were greeted by casual hellos and salutes, you doing the same back before you slid behind one of the back walls that lead to the hallway of the hangar. Of course, there was no real reason to sneak around when you could’ve lied and said you had business to attend to…but you were afraid word was going to reach out to Leia and a whole domino affect would happen and you really weren’t up for that.

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Katara: Consumed by Destiny

There are many back-and-forth posts on forums and social media about Katara and her role in The Legend of Korra, in contrast to her role in the Avatar comics and the original canon. Many people go into long explanations to justify the differences in her role in one as opposed to the other.

When I used to proofread, I learned a very simple trick for catching spelling mistakes: work backward. If you read something front to back, your knowledge of sentence structure and prediction of what’s to come tend to auto-correct for errors so you don’t see them on the page. But if you work backward, you can often see mistakes because you are focusing on one word, without the image you already have in your head biasing you toward the smooth transition that your mind wants to happen. Likewise, there is a very simple test to see if a character’s portrayal follows logically from one series to the next. A consistent portrayal will read well backwards and forwards; an inconsistent depiction will only read well one way—and sometimes, not even that.

So let’s begin, shall we? Let’s work backward and see what we can make of Master Katara of the SWT.

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All Bark and No Bite

Pairing: Dean x Reader (Female)

Summary: AU with Hunter!Reader and Mechanic!Dean. The Reader needs a new car part for Baby. She ends up at a local auto shop in Lawrence called Winchesters. She’s expecting the mechanic to be the same ol’ creepy, beer-gut Uncle but what she gets is a gorgeous, green-eyed man named Dean.

Word Count: 3,196

Author’s Note: This is my first bit of Tumblr writing. Whoop! Give me honest opinions. Any feedback is good feedback. If you like it enough, a sequel is already in the works and can be released. Enjoy!


“Alright Cas,” You brought Baby to a stop and turned the engine off. You turned to Cas with a tired smile. “Check in for us and get a jumpstart on the case with the interviews. I have to go to the nearest shop to get parts for Baby. I’m surprised she even made it into town.”

Cas nodded. “Should I call if I find something useful?” He asked in his deep, stoic voice. You let out a small chuckle. Cas trying his hand at hunting had been quite a show. The fact that he was worried about messing up every small detail was humorous.

You nodded back. “Yeah, call me if you find out anything or need my help. I’m only going to a garage. I’ll text you my locations, mkay?”

“Right,” Cas said unbuckling his seatbelt. He got out of the passenger side of the car and stuck his head through the window before you could pull off. “Y/N, please be careful. There are demons and angels out to get you now. You can never be too careful, the warding only does so much.”

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Teacher/Student AU

This is the only way I managed to write this without cringing, I hope you can forgive me :) Also if you want to, you can totally see a queerplatonic percico thing going on here, but that’s up to you. (I also again forgot that the drinking age is not 18 in the US. And it makes no sense that Percy and Nico are living together either but pssst.)

I headcanon Percy as the most annoying drunk texter btw, you will see why ;)


Words: 1.9k
Rating: Teen and Up


When Percy goes out on Friday night, things don’t go well for him. First, he loses Nico to some curly blond, and while he is happy that the boy has found someone to dance that has more rhythm than Percy can ever hope to, he would have preferred not sitting at the bar alone.

He dances with a couple guys and one or two girls but doesn’t really hit off with any of them. Admittedly, it is probably Percy’s own fault, since he mostly is passive and pouts, still kind of butt hurt about Nico running of so early. On the other hand no one has really caught his interest yet either. Time is passing slowly and Percy almost wants to leave when a man settles next to him against the bar.

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ficlet: Grease

Anonymous asked you: OKAY fic prompt (from prolethean/cosima-hella-niehaus’ cophine au headcanon list): the 20’s au; cosima’s a greasemonkey, delphine is… rich. very rich

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Yuletide in Panem Presents: A Seasonal Romance

Banner by the astounding @akai-echo

Day 15: Holiday Everlark Drabble by @mega-aulover

A Seasonal Romance


The studio bell rang and the director, Plutarch Heavensbee, called for the midday break.  Everyone on set headed for craft services to get lunch.  There were tables set up around the food station for the cast and crew to eat together, since they were filming on location.


Katniss Everdeen clutched her script as she skipped past the turkey and tofu options and headed directly for the double cheeseburger with bacon and plenty of onions.  There was Christmas music playing from the speakers.  Katniss hummed along.  She loved Christmas.


“How the hell can you eat that while filming a movie?”

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lit-vegans  asked:

pretty please do more of the I choose you fanfic. It's awesome yo

Here you go! Bit longer than part one. :)

I CHOOSE YOU II ( one )

Anytime Holly ventured out into public, Gail (or Gail’s stand-in on the rare occasion she was unavailable) was to accompany her. That was the rule and something Gail had expected to have to fight the woman about. Anyone else would have been annoyed or just too dumb to realize that a quick run to the store could prove deadly when you have a stalker.

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Quaint Earth Customs

A short one-shot that I scribbled out and liked after @kibbles-bits designed a Pearl for Steven during a stream. ((For an AU of their comic, New Home. The theory being that some gem other than Yellow Diamond has a pearl made for Steven because he is Important, dontcha know.))

Peridot is given a job deciphering some of the files on Steven’s phone and accidentally opens the wrong one, playing a short video of Steven describing one of his Earth customs.

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So let’s say you’re this guy on the right side of the image and you said to yourself, I’ll go toe to toe with that moron known as Piers on some TV show. Well, good for you, it takes some bravery I’ll say that much. But, these people are professional idiots and you cannot beat them at their own game. Why? Because you are not an idiot and he will just double face palm you into submission. See, it’s already kinda working in the screen shot.

First thing out of Piers’ mouth, “How many boooollits, I say just how many booollits can this assault weapon of mass destruction fire in one minute?” Or something to the effect of, what is the rate of fire? The underlying assertion is that because this gun is capable of a particular rate of fire, it is therefore terrifying and dangerous. Then our brave soul on the right side goes on about some rate of fire number that I feel like he also pulled out of his ass. Here is the correct answer when some fucktard like Piers asks you what the rate of fire is for an AR15. ONE. The rate of fire for all semi automatic firearms that ever existed and will ever exist is ONE, by definition. You can hold the trigger down until your tiny British dick dries up and falls off, if it hasn’t already, or if it ever existed in the first place, and that semi auto firearm will fire once. It will fire one round per minute, one round per hour, one round per fucking lifetime if you’re that bored. Any firearm which has a rate of fire greater than one, is fully automatic. For the brain dead, that’s a “machine gun”. The AR15 is not a machine gun. But do not explain this to him. When he asks you say; one. When he makes a stupid face, and he will, you say; if you didn’t already know that, then you’re a fucking moron. Your entire argument about how scary this gun is, is based entirely on your lack of understanding the subject matter. In other words, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, so please stop talking. When numbers work for them, they love them, but you are wasting your time trying to get these people to even acknowledge actual facts. So when he makes a shift and starts going on about well yeah but you can shoot it really fast so it’s basically like a nuclear weapon man. Yes Piers, I get it, you want to ban guns because they scare you. Fortunately, in America we don’t concern ourselves with the fears of some bed wetting Brit.

Next. “Why would you want to make it EASIER for terrorists to get guns!!! OMG!” Brave soul once again goes off in some effort to “answer” such a loaded question. Here is the correct answer. “I don’t. Next question.”

Next. “Just take a look at these other countries. Take away the means, then you take away the murders (by gun, of course). Why is that not a compelling enough reason for a gun ban?” Simple, gun bans, and therefore the people who support them, are now responsible for every OTHER murder and violent crime that takes place from that point forward. Once again, they will make stupid faces. Ignore their bullshit, people are still getting murdered, raped and robbed in all these wonderful places they will mention. We already know that far and away more people protect themselves with firearms than are murdered with them in America. Far and away more. You are not taking away the right to own a gun, you are taking away a human being’s natural right to self preservation and the right to choose. Murder and violent crime by other means are the trade off (and it is not a good one) you make when you ban guns. You’ve taken one option, possibly the best option for self defense off the table, so you are directly responsible for every death which occurs now that self defense is no longer an option for the victim. That’s right, the people who hung the signs in every gun free zone where virtually every mass shooting has taken place, are directly responsible in my view.

“Why do you NEEEEEEED? NEEEED!!!! NEED!!!” Rights are not predicated by ownership of an object. We aren’t Communists - neither you nor the government get to choose what I need. In America we believe all human beings NEED just one thing. Liberty. Everything in the Bill of Rights is in direct correlation to this belief, including my right to write this post and defend my life against violence. Since I have now established that you support murder, I am now suggesting that you also support murderers because you seem to want me to be helpless against them. Why do you like murderers so much? Why do you sensationalize horrible acts of violence? Why are you not in prison? Turn the narrative around on them.

America has the mass shootings that it has thanks to weak leadership and most importantly, scum like Piers Morgan who sensationalize the perpetrators of mass shootings.