still not exactly as i see him in my head but

shibolet3  asked:

Wait what con artist from 2014

I’d like to title this story “Swing And A Miss

Okay, so my high school had this program where seniors could leave school like a month and a half early and opt out of exams if they took on internships around the neighborhood, but not everyone wanted to/was eligible to do it. Back in like 2013, they had like 15 bored seniors stuck in the school, so the administration brought in this Professional Life Coach, left him in alone in a room with them for two hours to talk to them about like, self-esteem or some shit. All the kids were pulled out of their classes for this*, and later told the administration that they loved him, they really enjoyed the talk.

So, about a year later, we have a new principal. He’s supposed to set up an assembly for all the 11th and 12th graders, but he doesn’t know what to do. One of his coworkers mentions that there was a life coach that was a huge hit with the kids that didn’t do community study last year, so maybe he’d also be great for a larger audience. The principal basically thinks “okay, what the hell” and calls up and hires Jason C. Jean to come talk to the kids.

Now, it’s like, 10:30, maybe 11:00 in the morning, and two entire grades are getting shepherded to the main gymnasium, and no one wants to God damn be there. We ain’t got time for self esteem talks. We want to sleep. And this guy, watching us all drag our feet in and collapse into the bleachers was just like…offensively peppy. There’s a couple faculty members sitting behind him, the woman who suggested he be hired for this, the vice principals for the grades- but the principal himself kept getting calls so he was in and out the whole time.

Now, Mr. Jean was like…the chill “Just call me by my first name dude” history professor at college times 30. He was trying so fucking hard. I’m referring to him as ‘Mr. Jean’ in this story just to be disrespectful. So anyway, we all get in there, and he tells us right off the bat “You guys are totally allowed to be on your phones and laptops during this! I get it! It’s no problem, like really, I insist!” so while the faculty members are exchanging smiles that read ‘how do we kill that while respecting him’, all the kids are immediately pulling out their electronics and he’s starts his speech.

Now, again, I really wanna reiterate that he told us we could be on our phones- because when the news articles started coming out about this, I remember all these angry, annoying comments from old people like “Why the hell were the students on their phones in the first place! So disrespectful! These damn millennials and their social media!” like, they were completely ignoring the entire story and just focusing in on kids using the internet, and it Really Super Pissed Me Off, so. Again, we had permission for this (which also ended up being Mr. Jean’s fatal mistake).

So, he starts off this speech fairly normally, like ‘hi, I’m Jason, I’m a professional life coach and I wanna teach you kids about how to be The Best You!’ and like people were tuning him out and listening to varying degrees. Some kids (like myself) were kinda dozing off, and everyone was on twitter or facebook.

His approach to a self esteem speech seemed to be ‘let me tell you my entire life story for hours’ and like, at first I was like “I’m not really hearing this, I’m half dreaming right now” but the more I started making myself pay attention the more…bizarre and rambling his story got.

So like, for instance, he told us he drank a lot in high school. Like, a lot. But he didn’t use that as a ‘don’t drink or party too hard’ lesson, instead he was like “I was fourteen so I always called my parents to pick me up, and they weren’t mad because they knew it meant I could trust them. So remember, always tell your parents when you’re drinking!” and then it kinda got to a point where it sounded like he was encouraging partying and drinking and the like to the group of underage kids.

And then, he told us how he used to play baseball all the time when he was a kid, and at 16 reached a crossroads in his life where the Phillies wanted to draft him or he could go play football for Penn State. And he said he went with Penn State but later lost the scholarship for some reason and we’re like…really.

There was absolutely nothing coherent about anything he was saying- nothing that tied anything together, made a point, seemed like it had anything to do with an assembly on self esteem. He told us at one point he was making upwards of 7 million a year. He told us one time before college he was homeless. He told us he used to own a construction company and built his own branch of nightclubs himself, that he and his friend then ran. He told us he fought a shark and came out with no scars. He told us that he had less money now, because after surviving a work related accident- direct quote- “I fell almost 30 feet and I broke in half” - he decided to leave that industry and spend more time with his family.

So, yeah, I was pretty positive this was bullshit, but there were clearly kids in the room that were falling for it. But then he said something like…he and his friend got bored one day and started jarring up their own pasta sauce, and made a deal with wegmans or some store like that to start selling it, and now he has a pasta sauce empire. Like he spent 15 fucking minutes on this. The way he kept saying ‘pasta sauce’ was so annoying I was about to claw my ears out. But anyway, two girls in my grade wanted to find out what brand he was talking about, so they googled his name.

And then quietly gasped.

And then furiously started typing into their phones.

And remember- everyone, even though they were paying attention- was on twitter and facebook. All the sudden I see heads flying up and wide eyes and people whispering to each other. Mr. Jean doesn’t seem to notice the change and keeps rambling on, but I know something happened so I google him too and-

Okay so basically he’s 1) been arrested, 2) filed for bankruptcy like three times and 3) has been hailed as a ‘Swinger Guru’ by playboy.

EVERYONES SILENTLY FLIPPING OUT.

So by now, this is a fucking game- he still doesn’t notice anything wrong amongst the kids, so we’re all silently texting each other to fill each other in. Pulling up receipts. But still playing the part of politely intrigued audience members. The school faculty have no fucking idea what’s going on, until one of the students texts her mom, who happens to be the woman that convinced the principal to hire this guy. We see her check her phone, go wide-eyed, and she runs out of the fucking room presumably to either find the principal or hide in terror.

So Mr. Jean had been talking to random people intermittently throughout this speech, but we reach the ‘questions’ part of it. Everyone seems to silently agree that instead of just asking him anything outright, we should just see how good of a liar he was. So they’d be asking him stuff like ‘how much money did you make with ____ company’ and he’d give a ridiculously high number as people were sending each other reports of him filing for bankruptcy during that time. Or they asked him about his construction business which he said was great, and while he was talking about how great it was we were all reading his arrest report, from when a woman hired him to build her house, and he took her money and then like…just didn’t build anything. Wild. Someone asked him about his family and he’s extolling Christian virtues while we’re all on the website for his annual Swing Fest. People would ask him how he got certain jobs and he was making promises to hook kids up in interviews and shit. Everyone was loosing their God damn minds online and just barely holding it together in person. This man was so beyond full of shit- like, he was a God awful life coach but his dedication to lying was inspirational.

We eventually get to leave and everyone is yelling and cracking up and freaking out, all running to our classes to tell the teachers and the underclassmen everything, and the teachers are freaking out, alternating between horrified confusion and laughing hysterically. Before the school day even ended, someone had called a bunch of news stations. The principal was freaking out and denying he had anything to do with it, before calling some students to his office to see what exactly the kids had searched up on the guy…Because apparently teenagers can perform better background checks than school officials. It was all anyone could talk about for weeks.

A couple months after this, for my theater class’ showcase, I wrote and directed a skit called ‘Mason B. Mean’. It was a huge hit. The principal was in the audience. I’ve never seen a grown man look so dead inside. I made sure I was out of the room before he came up to congratulate the cast and everything. The next day, my theater teacher told me his only comment about the skit was a quiet, long-suffering “Why.” 😂😂

Annnnnnnnd that’s the time a Swinger Entrepreneur rambled on about pasta sauce and money in front of teenagers who knew how to use google for almost two hours.  

http://www.philly.com/philly/news/breaking/Montco_principal_apologizes_for_having_swinger_entrepreneur_speak_to_kids.html

The Time I Took On the Military (And Won)

Considering the staggering amount of votes this one got, here you go!

ok so it’s my sweet sixteen and i took two of my closest friends paintballing. We started off alone with just the three of us. Me and this girl formed a truce so we could take out her brother. He found a building with a roof to shoot from so i was criss crossing and sliding behind shelters.

Long story short with this guy i snuck up behind his building and shot him point blank in the ass while he was climbing a ladder.

Except now his sister is my enemy and a much larger threat.

I criss cross my way back narrowly avoiding being shot. I skid to a stop behind this bush with a really gappy fence and go GOOD ENOUGH BRING IT ON and poke my muzzle through. I cant particularly see but I remembered seeing her in a little chapel window. I aim that general direction and open fire. I immediately hear HIT. When she comes out i see where i hit her. Right between the eyes like I couldnt do that again if I tried. Ill take it.

We’re back at the base ops and these massive dudes come over like “yo wanna join us we need more players” and we’re like “oh ya bud the more the merrier” so we go over and everyone is freaking massive and there’s us three tiny lil teenagers. I over hear they’re a military team and just sigh because i know im dead this is just my luck

Apparently they wanted us so that they could simulate having civilian to protect, who were also armed. (They did a piss poor job of this seriously wtf)

So the game starts and im seperated from my friends. They’re on the opposite team.

Im sticking near the leader and just generally trying not to die. He’s giving me orders as softly and nicely as he can, thinking Im scared. I mean really who wouldnt be?

I wasnt. I was ready to kick butt. When I am silent, be afraid, im planning something.

Next thing i know he’s gone. Shot, running, hiding i dont know and i dont care i gotta move there are way too many heavily armed men in these woods for me to be comfortable

Im trekking through this woodsy area keeping as low as possible because the other team has a freaking sniper and im not dealing with that no thanks im just a tiny teenager leave me alone ok

Im doing my thing and trying to find people to shoot because everyone is mia when i see people ahead.

Not my people.

And they havent seen me yet. Im looking around looking for some decent cover or somewhere to take them by surprise and there is nothing. The entire area is just thistle bushes with massive thorns. And then my idea hits. A wicked, mischievous idea. I grin behind my mask and get ready to lay my trap.

I plop myself down right in the middle of these thistles and army crawl to the path their taking and just lay still.

These guys dont see me.

They’re not expecting someone to be in these bushes cause who is that dumb.

The one dudes boot is an inch from my hand and i spring up and yell SURPRISE before shooting him right in the chest and then the two behind him. Three down, way too many to go. I ran away cackling like a witch

Dont die dont die dont die

I head out again and meet up with some more of my group. They stick me at the back to keep me out of harms way. A valiant, if ineffective effort

Enter enemy attack.

We get split up into two groups to flank them and i end up alone again. I moving slowly, spinning in a slow circled because I am EFFED

I’m a tiny lil sixteen year old girl, all alone, with about 15 guns pointed at me. I was completely surrounded. My comrades who had fled to live and fight another day are now making haste towards me like WHO LEFT THE KID BEHIND HELP HER and im like

hell no i got this

I went absolutely ape shit on their asses.

Shots are flying around me like crazy and everyone is screaming. One of the enemies shouts FALL BACK WHAT THE FU–

I hear one if my partners like HOLY SHIT SHE’S ALIVE

I barrel over one of the attackers and side arm his gun away. I break out from the Circle of Doom and make a mad dash for cover.

I leap into the air and spin to fave them. Im not getting shot in the back I an a WARRIOR

I just start spraying with a battle cry to rattle the heavens

I smack back down to earth and land in a crouch

Every single one of the attackers were shot, usually multiple times, and i didnt get shot once. Frankly no clue how i managed but I am NOT questioning it. Luck or skill I dont care

Eventually it was down to two people. Me and the other teams captain.

He’s a big, scary dude. He had a custom gun that could pop off a frankly alarming amount of shots per second.

The odds arent exactly in my favour.

We find each other right in the middle with trenches and tiny little metal fences for cover. Im walking through like plz dont shoot me i am small be nice

The dude pops up from a trench and starts firing. No mercy here.

Fine then.

I duck behind a fence and it is the most pathetic thing i have ever seen.

I have barely enough room to crouch behind it because it’s so small. The other dude finds a nice big trench and big fence the lucky lil jerk.

So we’re poppin up like weasels trying to get a shot in. I cant hit him, he cant hit me. Up and down and up and down. My fence angles down ever so slightly so im tucked in as tightly as I could. My fence is rattling as shot after shot after shot hits. The shots stop, i poke my muzzle over the edge amd lay down some fire.

And the cycle repeats

I get tired of this little exchange so the next time he goes down i lay on some cover fire and sprint like hell for a near by trench like i am just bookin it thinking dont shoot me dont shoot me imma kill you

i slide in and pop up just as he rises to take a shot. Except im not where he thought id be.

I shot him right in the side of his bald lil head.

So i won. My team legit carried me on their shoulders back to base ops

And that’s the time I, a sixteen year old girl, beat a team of militarily trained behemoths

look at me - i will never pass for a perfect bride

so i know i already made a retold mulan post but i just LOVE MULAN SO MUCH so here’s another

in the original myth mulan isn’t really a clumsy fish out of water. she’s strong and smart and the reason she goes to war is because she’s the most qualified person in her family to fight, regardless of gender.

so how about this: mulan’s a fighter. she knows exactly who she is, like in the original myth, she’s knows how to be the blossoming flower and the great stone dragon. she’s still mulan though, so she still doesn’t memorize the silly ways she’s supposed to be a good wife and has little patience for appearing graceful while pouring tea. she’s innovative and courageous and beautiful, but no one is under any illusions about what kind of wife she’ll be.

and the matchmaker is the matchmaker for the li family as well, for this great big part of china. and general li wants his son to be married before he goes off to war, wants his son to have a reason to fight to live, like a wife waiting for him. and the matchmaker reads the stars and the tea leaves and the astrology charts, and no matter what all the signs point to one thing: the honorable li shang is destined to marry the insolent, arrogant fa mulan.

the matchmaker isn’t going to let that happen, she refuses to be responsible for that disaster of a wedding. so she sends her most beautiful girls, the ones that are obedient and quiet and know their roles, the ones that are eager to marry into the li family.

and each of them are entertained and met and sent back. shang is many things, but smooth isn’t one of them, he has nothing to say to these quiet girls who smile at him, feels large and awkward around their polite smiles. so he and his father go to the matchmaker’s village, shang reluctantly and his father to demand she stops messing with them and provides a proper bride.

it’s on the day that mulan and the other girls are parading in the street. shang sees a girl - mulan - hurry into the end of the line, jumping over a bench and darting around a careening wagon to get there, and stifles a laugh.

then there’s no reason to laugh at all, because a group of huns have decided that this village is in their way, and attack.

everyone scatters, women hide, children hide, and most of the men do too. shang and his father join the fight with some of the other men who hadn’t hid, and these men are starved, clearly not with shan yu, so even though they’re outnumbered they’ll likely win.

shang sees a hun go to attack the girl he’d seen earlier, the girl for whatever reason hadn’t run and hid. the hun raises a sword above his head to strike her down, and shang is so sure he’s about to see this pretty girl lose her head.

but she doesn’t. instead she rolls out of the way, and pops up, headbutting him in the stomach. she takes his sword from his now-slack grip and plunges it into his chest. without hesitation or pause the girl joins the fight, swinging the sword expertly and cutting down every man who stands against her. soon they’re fighting back to back, and shang has never felt more in sync with another person. she cuts off the head of the last hun, and shang has never seen anyone more beautiful than this girl, dress ripped and make up smudged and covered in blood that isn’t hers.

“mulan,” one of the other girls says, peaking out of a store front, “is it over?”

the girl, mulan, looks out over the dozen dead men and says, grimly, “it’s barely begun.” she searches the crowd, finding and old man and yelling, “gather the bodies, we’ll burn that at dusk outside of the village. everyone else,” her eyes sweep across the gathered people, and shang is struck by the fact that this girl isn’t well liked. there’s anger and disapproval in many of the faces, but they’re listening. these people don’t like her. but they do trust her. “let’s clean this all up. these were bandits, not soldiers. there’s nothing more to fear.”

“what if there are more?” the other girl asks, arms wrapped around herself.

mulan raises her stolen sword and says, “then i will slice them to ribbons. this is our village, and this is our country. any who would try to take it from us - from me - will suffer the consequences.”

and it shouldn’t be comforting, hearing words of violence from this young girl, yet everyone around them relaxes, and gets moving, gather the bodies and tending the wounded.

“who are you?” his father asks, and someone who doesn’t know him might think he was angry, but shang can tell he’s impressed.

mulan turns to them and bows, “my apologies. i am fa mulan, daughter of fa zhou. thank you for helping us.” she stands, and shang meets her eyes for the first time.

he swallows, and blurts out, “you - you fight good.”

his father coughs to hide his laughter, but mulan’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “thank you. you do as well.”

and they just keep standing there smiling at each other until his father claps his hands and is like okay - they’ll have to report this to the emperor, no time to dawdle, have to go now.

so they take their leave, and shang thinks this is the last time he’ll see fa mulan.

except there’s still the draft, and this time mulan doesn’t take no for an answer, won’t hear of it. her father is injured and old and she is young and fit to fight. she will go in his place.

so she arrives at the camp, prepared to pretend and lie - except she goes to meet her commanding officer and it’s him, that boy who had fought with her. shang’s eyes widen, but they’re in front of too many people. he can see it on her face, her fear, and she hadn’t shown any fear when she was facing down over a dozen huns, but she does now. so he makes his choice and says nothing, pretends he buys her story.

she tracks him down that night and demands an explanation. he says this war is too important to kill good warriors, whatever gender they are. he swears to keep her secret. mulan is his best soldier from the beginning, and means to treat her like anyone else, but it’s impossible. she isn’t like anyone else, is strong and smarter and braver than them. they argue tactics, and she’s the only one who can give him a workout in hand to hand, and he doesn’t have trouble finding his words with her. he finds himself falling in love with her, but doesn’t say anything. she’s not here for love, she’s here for a war. he vows to say something if they survive this, but it’s unlikely that will happen.

they head to the front earlier. they get there in time to provide back up for his father and his army, and it’s a loss but not a slaughter. his father is too distracted to notice ping is the girl from the village. all he knows is this soldier had led the second wave of attacks, and it was thanks to her any of them were alive at all. they prevent half of the huns from getting through the pass, but that’s still an army heading for the imperial city. the general is injured, so mulan and shang lead the army after him.

they find him at the mountain, and just like before mulan uses the cannon to destroy the army. she knew it would spell their death, but it was worth it, for her people, for her country, for her family. this time it’s shang that won’t accept her death, that tries to drag her unconscious body to safety. only he fails, and mulan becomes buried under the snow.

they return to the city, and shang is besides himself - the woman he loves is dead, she saved them all and she’s gone, and he’ll never recover from this. only he can’t tell his father this, their friends. they think he mourns a friend, not the woman he wanted to make his wife.

except mulan survives, and sees the other huns as well. only she kills them there before they can get to the city, and decides this is for the best. fa ping dies honorably in battle, and fa mulan is free to return home to her family.

so general li decides that it’s time to go to that matchmaker again, and demand she stop playing games. the matchmaker confesses that she thought the bride was unsuitable, and the general demands she send her anyway.

so mulan has barely had the chance to settle back home when the matchmaker shows up at her door saying she’s sending her to see a potential husband, but not who. so mulan shows up all made up to li household and shang drags himself into the room, already resigned to a loveless marriage, when they see each other. “mulan?” he demands, and his father is all pleased because it’s the fighting girl from the village.

but then his son starts crying and they run to each other. shang picks her up in his arms and she clings to him, and shang is babbling about how he thought she was dead, and mulan is so overjoyed that she’s with shang, and shang wants her, that she kisses him without explaining.

except now shang’s father demands an explanation. so they give it to him, the whole story comes tumbling out, and he stares hard at her, and remembers her as ping, the brave soldier that had saved them all. he’s not upset - he ecstatic. he goes to the emperor and tells him everything, and the emperor officially offers mulan an officer position in the army. she accepts, as long as shang is by her side. shang seconds this, and they set in motion the plans for the wedding.

fa mulan and li shang get married and lead armies and live happily ever after, just like the stars intended.


read more of my retold fairytales here

nude wars (m) | pt.1

pairings: yoongi x reader x jungkook

genre: smut, touches of fluff / frat!yoonkook

word count: 4,458

description: Okay sure, maybe having a threesome with two best friends from the same frat wasn’t the smartest thing you’d ever done. But hey, when the result was them vying for your attention in the form of scandalous snaps, breathy audio messages, and unspeakable texts, well then the decision definitely wasn’t that bad.

— Or alternatively, your phone getting caught in the middle of Yoongi and Jungkook constantly trying to one-up each other in a war of sexting (and just maybe romantics).

Nine texts, four missed calls, several snaps, one voice mail — who the fuck leaves voicemails?

The notifications flashed across the home screen of your phone after your blurry and sleep-deprived eyes managed to locate the button to stop your shrieking alarm that was set for six-thirty in the goddamn morning. The early wake-up time due to the fact that it was your turn to trudge through the morning shift at the café you worked at — now that was what you called a simple cause and effect. You have the morning shift, so you set your alarm earlier than usual. It was simple, however as your thumb rested against the screen of your phone, the previously mentioned notifications continuing to stare back at you with urging enticement, you once again wondered how this particular cause and effect had come to fruition.

Your teeth caught hold of your bottom lip, bearing down on the tender flesh as your heart began to rapidly beat against your chest. Ragged sighs invaded your lungs as you pressed your thumb against the home button of the device. It unlocked, revealing what you of course already knew would be there. The small red dots that indicated how many missed alerts you had received throughout the night. It was with a deep breath that you pressed down on the first icon to rid yourself of the notification that held the least weight.

Keep reading

Homestuck Pool Party Headcanons

John: Canonballs in IMMEDIATELY, he is yelling and he is fucking excited move out of the way this boy is coming through!! Also, because he has a breath aspect I am 413% certain that he can stay underwater for indefinite amounts of time and you can bet your ass he’s going around grabbing people’s feet to freak them out. He and Terezi have a contest to see who can make the most people jump, I will not say who wins I will only say that it is unfortunate for everyone involved. He and Dave are an unstoppable chicken team, they have never lost and will do Whatever It Takes to make sure that remains true.

Dave: Is just chillin, he cares more about keeping his shades dry than swimming around. He will go hard as hell in Marco Polo tho, if you thought he was too cool to jump at the nearest person faster than the speed of light you were wrong buddy he will do what it takes to WIN. Also, when he is the Marco he will (unfairly) target Karkat. This is frustrating. “I’m not even being that loud” Karkat protests for the umpteenth time Dave tags him. “Bullshit” everyone else says, but there’s still a rule that Dave can’t tag Karkat more than five times in a row because really Dave we know you love hearing him yell but Enough Please.

Karkat: Is Bad At Marco Polo. He is so loud. My son. Please. Is very hesitant to get into the water at first bc he’s sensitive to the cold and would rather angrily sweat than deal with the initial shock of getting in. Dave will patiently chill nearby until Karkat is ready, or Dave decides that Karkat is ready in which he will absolutely drag him in. Karkat does not know how to swim so he won’t go past the shallow end, and considering how short he is, uh, that’s not very much of the pool. Dave has to carry him sometimes which he complains about A Lot but secretly kind of likes it whoops. Karkat and Sollux are the shittiest chicken team, Karkat is too afraid of falling in to have any sort of effective strategy and Sollux is like “Karkat just push him” and sort of plows into the other team which just leads to Karkat screeching and nothing gets done.

Roxy: LOVES SWIMMING WITH HER FRIENDS!!! Real people?? That she’s hanging out with?? And you KNOW she’s excited to wear that cute as fuck bikini she alchemized months ago ‘just in case’ ;) ;) ;). After years of knowing Jane and her silly prankster shenanigans, John will absolutely not get the drop on her no sir, he tries to grab her foot she will raise that leg and pull the boy out of the water and give him the Mom Look™. This is war. John will not win. She loves being with Jane and Roxy and her boys!! She is just full of so much love it’s incredible. She deserves this so much.

Calliope: Doesn’t know much about swimming or why humans (and trolls ish) find it so enjoyable, but Roxy is excited so she is too! Interestingly enough, cherubs Do Not Float. Roxy is waving a nervous Callie into the pool and she’s coming down the ladder and once it gets to her chin everyone expects her to do something but no, she makes it to the bottom of the pool and just walks like normal over to where Roxy is. The water level comes up to just below her nose and she has to tilt her head back to speak. “Like this?” She asks excitedly, ‘uh,,, yeah,,,like that’ everyone responds nervously, giving big smiles and thumbs up because they don’t want to disappoint her.

Jade: A master swimmer, she and Jake grew up on an island in the middle of the goddamn pacific my girl knows how to GO. No one realized how fucking ripped Jade was. Jade is ripped as heck. She’s got back and shoulder muscles like an absolute goddess and everyone is like holy shit? Jade? Have you been benching pumpkins all these years? She likes chilling with Jane and Roxy and Calliope because she has been longing for some gals to hang with forever. Not that she doesn’t love Rose, she does, it’s just, they have such differing personalities and anyways it’s kind of hard being around her and Kanaya bc they’re so cute it makes your teeth hurt.

Rose: She and Kanaya have matching floppy sun hats, they love laying out in the sun because Kanaya is a little nervous around water thanks to a certain sea-dweller *cough* eridan *cough*. Rose doesn’t mind, her swimsuits are more for show than swim anyways. She’s got some really cool and intricate goth-y ones and some nice lighthearted pastel ones, an orange and yellow fancy one-piece and a frilly lavender one. Rose has a new appreciation for sunlight but still religiously applies sunscreen because a home girl may be immortal, but fuck if she is gonna deal with any nasty sunburns after defeating the fucking embodiment of evil.

Kanaya: As previously stated, very nervous around water, but so so happy to be in the sun?? It’s not as bright as the one on Alternia which is fine because that means her troll friends can enjoy it too, but she’s literally just so happy to be around people that enjoy the sun the way she does because she’s felt wrong and different about it for years and she finally found someone that understands her ahhshshsjs. She designs all of Rose’s swimsuits and loves seeing her wear them. When it gets dark out, she likes to turn on the glow a little and all these cute little furry wingbeasts will flock to her?? “Those are moths” Rose tells her. “These are my children now” Kanaya pats Rose’s arm, they’re her children too because that’s how human marriage works she’s pretty sure

Dirk: Is so awkward oh my godddd, a little uncomfortable in his body actually? This boy might have muscle but he is all arms and legs and doesn’t know what to do with them because he’s never fuckifnfnfn been around people before. Doesn’t say “Marco” during Marco Polo, he just listens. Breath too loud? You’re tagged. Splash a little? Tagged. Move? Tagged. He’s never Marco for more than two minutes because he’s so in tune with his reflexes that no one even stands a chance. With Jake on his shoulders, they make a decent chicken team, but they’re too worried about each other to be effective. “You okay up there?” He wants to make sure. Someone is tipping Jake over oh no get him off my shoulders is he okay, oh he’s fine, yes I know how the game works Roxy, no Rose why don’t you get in the pool and do a better job before you come for me like that. Rose and Kanaya, in an extremely rare occurrence, do get in for a round of chicken. They beat Dirk and Jake almost immediately. They return to the deck. This never happened and we don’t speak of it.

Jake: Is bad at Marco Polo, he’s an amazing swimmer but he’s not…quiet. After growing up on that island, fighting and swimming, Jake is also Ripped as Heck. Dirk blushes his fucking ass off the first time he sees Jake shirtless. Jake acts all clueless like oh? What’s wrong Dirk? Is something the matter? But he knows exactly what he’s doing and if he’s subtly flexing in front of him, well. That can’t be helped. He may suck during chicken with Dirk, but with Jade on his shoulders? Hoo boy, they give Dave and John a run for their money. He is also John’s favorite to grab the feet of because his reactions are always so over the top with his phrasing. “Horsefeathers!” He grabs at his foot in panic because his first thought is it was one of the monsters from his island, then he sees it was just John who is laughing his ass off because, horse feathers? Really? “I say,” Jake huffs indignantly even though he’s smiling now. “Warn a fellow!”

Jane: Looks rockin’ in her swimsuits because she’s wearing the whole high waisted pinup style ones and?? She’s super gorgeous? Roxy makes sure to tell her that every five seconds just in case she forgets. She and Roxy make a decent chicken team, usually they’re laughing so hard by the end of it that whoever was on top can’t do anything and they fall off because they don’t care about winning they’re just having such a good time. She and Roxy take turns carrying Callie around when the water gets too deep, not that Callie needs to be above the water per se as she seems to have no trouble breathing, but it just makes everyone a little more comfortable and anyways Callie loves it.

Terezi: Killer at Marco Polo for obvious reasons, sometimes she gets tagged on purpose just to show off how quickly she can find people. The only person she’s never been able to get is John, he uses his windy powers to obscure his scent so she can’t “see” him. He is her Marco Polo white whale. One day, John, one day. She and Vriska are terrifying during chicken, Vriska will plow full speed towards the opposing team and Terezi is ready to Throw Hands. The most intense games are between them and John and Dave, both John and Terezi are on top and they fuckin battle it out so hard that Dave and even Vriska start to get nervous on the bottom.

Sollux: Says the water feels slimy. “No shit,” Karkat tells him. “It’s water you fucking shitstain.” Sollux cheats during chicken by using his psiionics to keep Karkat on his shoulders which only makes Karkat mad because he’s terrified of falling in and holy shit Sollux I don’t care what you think your powers are doing I’m gonna fall in fuck fuck fuck. “No I got you” Sollux assures him. He does not. Karkat is not got. Oh well. Sollux mostly likes chilling on inner tubes, plural. He has a blue one and a red one because he’s too tall to fit in just one. “Get a bigger inner tube” Karkat complains. “Perhaps get one of those long, recliner like ones?” Kanaya suggests. No. Sollux will use two inner tubes. He will make the sacrifice of comfort for his aesthetic.

anonymous asked:

so, um. if you have any particular feelings about labyrinth--specifically Sarah--uh, go wild.

WILD PEACHES  [AO3]

.

The morning after Sarah Williams defeats the Goblin King, she gets up and makes toast. She has to brush some glitter off the toaster—it withers and vanishes at the brush of her fingertips, and she stares at her hand for a long time. 

It mostly just looks like her hand. Even when she turns it over, and sees where she scraped her knuckles against the oubliette, where the shattered mirror cut the back of her wrist. It looks like she fell, or was playing in the street. That’s all.

The toast comes out burned, and Sarah stares at that too. Eventually, she slumps down against the cabinets and cries, wracking sobs that send her dad and Karen rushing into kitchen. They check her forehead for a fever, put their hands on her, and keep asking, “Are you okay? Sarah, please, tell us what’s wrong…”

Eventually, her dad drags her into his lap and cradles her against his chest, like he did when she was little. Her legs are too long to really fit anymore, but Sarah hugs him around the neck anyway. “It’ll be okay,” he says, keeps saying. “You’ll be okay.” And Sarah—doesn’t laugh, because she can’t, and doesn’t have the words to express what—how—

(None of her stories ever talked about this. What did Sir George do, the morning after he slayed the last dragon in England? Did Tam Lin eat breakfast, or did he sit there, shivering, wondering if his hands were different, having been claws and wings and scales?)

Afterwards, she leaves the burnt toast outside on the back porch. Not an offering. Maybe a reminder.

.

It’s Didymus she sees the most often, mostly because he’s the one who invites himself rather than waiting for an invitation. He comes for tea, but even if there’s no tea—which there isn’t, usually—he comes to tell Sarah stories. She learns to love poetry because there’s no escaping it with him. (She won’t read Idylls of the King until Brit Lit in college, but she ends up scrawling a lot in the margins; Didymus’ telling of events had been much more interesting.)

Once, she falls asleep like that, her hands tucked behind her head with Didymus curled up and sleepily reciting from the crook of her elbow. “So tender was her voice, so fair her face—though I don’t think he was looking at her face, my lady, pardon me for saying so—”

Sarah buries her nose in his fur. Didymus always smells of rosewater, and a crispness she thinks is just…the Labyrinth. She falls asleep trying to place it.

She wakes up with a wild fox in her bed, animal-black eyes frightened and flat, teeth bared. The fox is whining, and she’s tempted to throw herself across the room, to get away from this wild thing and its teeth. It takes a monumental will to keep herself still and her breathing slow, even; like she’s still asleep and unafraid. 

It takes her longer to swallow, and start humming one of the songs he taught her—a knight’s round, he’d said. She’s shaky at first, but the fox’s ears flick forward. It cocks its head, and slowly, the teeth disappear behind its lips. 

She almost laughs when noses at her throat curiously, butting its head against her jaw like a cat might.

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

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

1. Write whatever the hell you like

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

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

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

3. Don’t be scared of transparency

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

4. Write what you know. Sort of. Sometimes

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

5. Aim big. Or small

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

6. Write all the time. And write a lot

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

7. Voice is just as important as content

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

8. And Form is just as important as voice

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

9. You don’t have to be yourself

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

10. Read On Writing. Now

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

The Wedding Night

Ok so @omgkatsudonplease was streaming Pride and Prejudice tonight and lots of Rivals jokes were made as we have established that umfb&mha is actually an accidental Pride and Prejudice AU. And then suddenly we found out that apparently there is an extra scene in the American version that I had never seen before and let me tell you, that Fucked Me Up because I love that film and this new scene kills me. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zg7YhN-I2M0

So what did I do with this new, groundbreaking information? Wrote a Rivals version of this scene of course.

So without further ado may I present to you The Wedding Night scene, otherwise known as my 1am fic rambling and a snippet of what Rivals - Past, Present and Future might be like 



                                       The Wedding Night 


Walking slowly into the room, Viktor finished pulling his shirt off over his head and looked to see where Yuuri was stretched out on the bed before him. Unlike Viktor, Yuuri was still wearing the formal white shirt of the day’s celebrations but his trousers were gone and the shirt was half unbuttoned, giving Viktor a tantalising glimpse of sharp collarbones and smooth, perfect skin. At the sound of his approach, Yuuri turned to face him, eyes softening and face breaking out into a smile as he looked at his once fiancé and now husband.

“Come here,” he murmured and Viktor obeyed, climbing onto the bed to where Yuuri was lying with a slight smirk on his face and arms open invitingly.

“Of course solnyshko,” Viktor breathed, planting a light kiss on Yuuri’s forehead and then laughing a little when Yuuri made a soft noise of protest before reaching down to capture his lips in a much deeper kiss. After a few seconds he pulled away and Yuuri smiled up at him, eyes bright in the darkness of the room.

“You always call me solnyshko,” he teased, running one hand down Viktor’s side and sliding the other up to tangle lightly in his hair. “People might think you’re getting…predictable.”

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one more time (m)

genre: fuckboy au + smut

words: 5.5k

member: jimin 

you can’t resist jimin, even if he is a fuckboy.

Originally posted by 9taefox


You woke up to the sound of your ringtone blaring into your ear. You huffed, screwing your eyes shut and hoping it would stop; it didn’t. Reaching out, you grabbed your phone and squinted at the bright screen, your eyes needing time to adjust.

Jimin.

You sighed through your nostrils, closing your eyes and ignoring the impending headache that you could already feel starting in your temples. You debated not answering, and the call ended. You nearly let a smile form on your lips, but your phone began to vibrate in your hand again, Jimin’s name popping up once again as the sound of your ringtone kept you from sleeping.

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That's Not So Different

@lovelylangst, I saw your idea that Voltron is hit by a spell by Haggar that makes them all revert to their original languages and I loved it so much I made a fic out of it.
I don’t know if you like your ideas being written out, so if you don’t, tell me and I’ll take it down.
Also, I kinda changed the idea a bit, so basically Pidge is perceptive and Allura is an oblivious bastard.

I don’t usually write ff alright.

Word count - 2000+

Pidge stumbled out of her lion, her bayard clasped to her chest, wheezing. Her voicebox felt like it had been clapped in hot iron, and black lightning sparked painfully from her armour where Haggar’s spell had struck Voltron. It had lanced all the way through the metal, and Pidge had heard Hunk whimper in pain.

Keith was sliding down Red’s leg. Some of his armour was shattered - no doubt from the hit - and his helmet was off. Sweat stuck to his forehead. His violet eyes were wide, and full of fear. He didn’t seem to want to look at her.

Hunk and Lance were nowhere to be seen - hiding out still in their lions, probably, like a mouse from a cat’s claws. Shiro eased himself out of his lion’s mouth. His helmet was off, too, but he looked unhurt. Voltron hadn’t won - but they’d escaped. For now, they were safe.

“Shiro! Pidge!” Allura came sprinting up to the hangar, her silvery hair flying behind her - she hadn’t bothered to tie it up. Coran was running behind her. “Lance!”

“He’s… He’s still in his lion, Coran,” stammered Pidge. “Oh, God, that was a hit… I feel all weak.”

“It must have been the komar,” deduced Coran, his hands a flurry at the scanner. “That spell Haggar devised. Do you feel like you’re going to pass out? Are you hurt?”

Pidge shook her head, shakily. “No,” she muttered. “I’m f-fine. Just shaken.”

“Keith? Shiro?” asked Allura. Her eyes were wide. “Are you hurt?”

Keith shook his head. Shiro opened his mouth to say something, but Keith, swift as a whip, stuck his hand over Shiro’s jaw. Shiro glared at him, and pulled his arm away.

“Shiro -”

There was something different about Keith’s voice.

It seemed more accented, sounding a little like Shiro’s when he mumbled to himself in Japanese. Keith didn’t seem eager to say much. He had deactivated his bayard, and was staring at it like he’d lost purpose. Pidge felt a rush of fear, down to her toes. Something was different, and if Keith was acting on it, then something was not only different, it was wrong.

“Kīsu, sore o yame nasai -”

Shiro clamped a hand over his mouth.

Pidge glanced at him, curiously. “Shiro?”

Shiro’s eyes had gone terrified. His cheeks were pale as chalk.

“Shiro?!” Allura sounded scared, her hands tugging at her hair in apprehension. “What’s happened? What was that?”

“Japanese,” Pidge said, exchanging a look with Keith. “Shiro, are you okay? You look -”

She wanted to say like death, but she felt like it might be considered a bit too rude and out of place, seeing as they had just nearly died anyway. Shiro looked like he was going to throw up. Keith, standing beside Shiro, put his arm on Shiro’s shoulder, and led him away without a word.

“What’s going on?” spluttered Coran. He was tapping at the blue lion’s leg with his communicator. “The lions are running, but Hunk’s been knocked out and Lance just won’t leave his! What’s wrong?”

“I think,” said Pidge slowly, “that something is different.”

Slav came running in, just as the blue lion’s jaw opened. The noodle alien paused, his eyes round.

“Oh, so you survived,” he said. “The probability of that was highly unlikely. Are you sure you’re alive?”

“Yes, Slav,” muttered Pidge. “Go do something else now.”

Slav didn’t move. He twisted a whisker like tendril around his mouth with his top pair of arms, like the way Coran did.

Footsteps tapped behind her, and Pidge looked back.

Lance limped towards them, taking off his shattered helmet. One eye was bruised and puffy. His knee trembled under his body weight.

“Lance!” Pidge ran up to him, but before she reached him, he collapsed, smudging blood on the floor. Allura gasped, and ran to join Pidge beside him.

Lance’s body was battered with bruises. His eyes were closed, one swollen with blood and purple. His armour was a mess, but at least he was breathing.

“Is he okay?” Allura whispered.

“I think so,” Pidge confirmed. She took off her glasses and pressed the lens to Lance’s bruise to test the severity. While she did that, Coran helped a very dazed Hunk out of his lion. He looked confused, but unhurt. Better than Lance and Shiro, at least.

“Why was Shiro speaking Japanese?” Allura asked, in an offhand voice. Pidge looked up.

“Native language,” she shrugged. “People tend to switch to their native language when they’re shocked.”

“Really?” Allura sounded interested. “What’s yours?”

“Sarcasm.”

Allura sighed. “English, right?”

“Yeah,” Pidge admitted, looking a little guilty.

-

“How’s Lance?” Pidge asked.

Coran was standing by the healing pod, twisting his moustache. He started when Pidge spoke.

“Pidge! Oh, you scared me!” He wiped his forehead. “He’s alright. He wasn’t badly injured. An hour more, and he should be raring to go!”

“Right, thanks.”

Coran eyed her.

“How is Shiro?”

Pidge sighed. “Still in shock. Babbling to Keith in Japanese. Clear to God Keith doesn’t understand a word of it.”

“Oh, really?” Coran looked interested. “Had Keith spoken yet?”

“No…” Pidge suddenly realised where Coran was coming from, and a jolt of horror shook her. “No, Coran. That doesn’t happen to us. Besides, neither Keith nor Lance have spoken, and they have English as their first language.”

“Not Keith,” said Coran. “His family - ignoring the Galra side - come from Korea. They moved to Texas before he was born.”

“Fine, Lance then.”

Coran glanced at her, before saying, in a controlled voice:

“Druid magic is capable of many things, Pidge.”

Pidge shrugged.

“It’s different, certainly.”

-

“So, you’re saying…” Allura tapped her nails on the table. Around her, sat Pidge, Coran, and Slav.

“Yes, princess,” said Coran, not needing the question to be finished. “Earthlings have many languages. It’s totally possible.”

“That’s true,” admitted Slav. He fiddled with his fingers, his beaklike mouth quivering.

“Admittedly,” Allura said, “you could be right. But then why is Lance not speaking? He speaks English, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, princess,” said Pidge. “That, I don’t get. He’s biracial, Cuban-American… Maybe he speaks Spanish.”

Allura snorted. “Trying to get attention, more like.”

“Hey!” Pidge retorted. “Lance isn’t like that! Don’t go like that! When he’s breaking like that, it’s dangerous!”

“Pidge, he’s like that every day!” Allura complained. She looked away from Pidge’s angry face into Coran’s concerned one. “So, I chase down Lance, and then we wait for the magic to wear off?”

“If it wears off.”

Pidge glared at Slav. “You know, for someone who’s always complaining about the odds, your pessimism doesn’t exactly help.”

“It doesn’t?”

Pidge fought the urge to throw Slav out the airlock.

“Princess, your idea of ‘chasing down Lance’ doesn’t seem to work in my mind,” Coran fretted. “He’s earned some rest.”

“Which he has now had!”

Coran sighed.

“Y'know, Princess,” Pidge said, trying to relieve some tension, “maybe I should just go get Lance.”

“No,” said Allura, standing up, and brushing her hair behind her in a determined fashion. “He won’t take it seriously if you deliver it. I will.”

And before anyone could say anything, Allura left, shutting the door behind her.

-

“Lance?”

Her fingers stung underneath the icy feel of the doorframe. The sky-blue light swept over the stooped figure hiding in the corner. Cloaked in an olive jacket.

“Lance?” Allura stepped cautiously forward, before gasping, and taking a few hesitant steps back.

Lance was crying.

The blue paladin sat hunched, her forehead on his knees and his tan hands wrapped over his face. Tears glittered on his hands like liquid diamond, rasping unintelligible words to the floor.

“Lance!” Allura said, for the third time, but now her voice filled with panic. She didn’t know why - Lance had always irritated her, even after he had stopped his stupid flirting game - but the Lance in front of her looked like the last kind of person to flirt with a princess. What she could see of the gleam of his blue eyes he was raw with sadness.

“Oh, my god,” Allura whispered. Lance didn’t look up - had he even heard her?

She heard footsteps behind her, and saw Pidge and Keith. Both of them looked stricken. Keith had his hands over his mouth as he hurried to Lance’s side. His eyes gleamed, and he looked horrified.

Pidge stood, her hands on her bayard. She looked angrily triumphant, accusing eyes on Allura, hissing, “I told you! I swear to god I warned you!”

“I - I…” Allura didn’t have the words. She bit her lip, shaken.

Keith was whispering words in Korean, his hands in Lance’s, trying to make him look at him, wiping at Lance’s tears with the hem of his cropped jacket. Allura caught a few words off the side.

“Ulji mal-ajuseyo. Jagiya, ulji ma.” He kissed Lance’s tear-streaked cheek and wrapped his arms around him.

Allura froze. Only speaking one language. Keith’s words were worthless when Lance didn’t know what they meant.

Lance’s eyes glowed a sharp, water blue through the darkness, fixed intently on Allura. He looked more angry than sad now. Suddenly, Allura felt a chill in her blood that had nothing to do with the cold castle.

“No tienes idea,” he spat. “¿Por qué me subestimas? Quiero que mires más allá de tus propias esperanzas por una vez.”

Only one language.

Oh, God.

She had never been more wrong about someone.

Pidge had gasped a little at Lance’s words, but Keith didn’t move. He kissed Lance, on the lips this time. Tears shuddered down his face.

Allura took off running, not wanting to see anyone. She knew Lance’s tears came from more than just pain, of not having anyone understand him. The way he looked at her… It was her fault. All her fault.

When she reached her own room, she cried almost as much as she had seen Lance doing.

-

Pidge sat at Lance’s side.

She hadn’t known something for sure. Guesses weren’t good enough. She cursed herself.

Not knowing something certainly - that was different. Pidge didn’t like different things.

-

“Where is he?”

Pidge looked wary about telling Allura… Anything… About Lance’s position. He looked pretty broken from their encounter from yesterday.

“In his room,” Pidge said eventually. “Keith is with him.”

Allura nodded mutely.

“This is your fault, you know,” she said accusingly.

Allura sighed. “I know. I’ve never been more wrong about something.”

Pidge turned her head to the blueprints on her lap, and didn’t say anything.

“I was wrong,” Allura repeated. “I didn’t listen to you. Not to Keith when he said that Lance needed more recognition. He nearly died for Coran… God, if Coran had died..” Her eyes drifted off into space, but she made them stoic and rigid again.

“I don’t know a thing about Lance,” said Allura. “I didn’t pay enough attention to him - not even so I knew he loved Keith and Keith loved him back, not so I knew he cried like that… I was wrong. You were right. He didn’t speak because he couldn’t. But when Keith and the others didn’t try, I didn’t care, and Lance could easily have been unable to speak as much as the others. But no, I was stupid. I thought he was flunking. I was wrong. You were right, he was bilingual. Spanish is his main language. Worst of all, he couldn’t tell me… But would I have listened?”

Pidge didn’t stop Allura, idly listening to her words whilst tapping on the electronics.

“I was wrong,” she repeated. “You were right. It’s always you who’s right.”

Pidge blinked. Then she smiled, cocky.

“Me, always right?” she asked. “Yeah, that’s not different. That’s not different at all.”

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

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

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

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

NHL!Bitty Masterpost




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

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

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

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

Eric closes his eyes and waits.

Keep reading

Play Me // A Dylan O’Brien Smut

Relationship: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Daddy Kink, Oral (both), Spanking, Teasing, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex, and Swearing.

Word Count: 4,915

Song: Despacito by Luis Fonsi Ft. Daddy Yankee and Justin Bieber

A/N: This is 100% because of the video that came out. The second I saw him playing the drums again, my mind immediately went to sin. I MEAN FUUUCK LOOK AT THIS GIF PEOPLE, HOW CAN IT NOT? Also, thanks to @stilinski-jpeg for keeping me sane throughout the writing process of this fic. Love you so much! 💖

In case you haven’t seen the video or you want to watch it again on loop if you’re like me. 

Fuck, I moaned internally as I watched him lick his plump lips in pure concentration, an immediate ache already rushing to my core just at the sight of Dylan’s sinful tongue.

His fingers were curled around the drumsticks and his muscles were flexed against his biceps with each movement he made as he played the drums in front of me. It took every piece of discipline I had in me to continue playing my saxophone and not toss it on the ground just to throw myself at him. Dylan had such an effect on me that I was constantly turned on whenever I was around him — and he doesn’t even have to do much to get me worked up. Just the way he is can get me easily horny alone.

It all started the night we first created this blues band. He was the drummer we recruited along with his friends Thomas and Dexter for strings and vocals. The three were undoubtedly talented and the perfect additions to our band, but Dylan… he was the perfect addition to my body. That first night the entire band partied to celebrate the arrivals and drinks were the main theme. One thing led to the other and, the next thing I knew, I was rushed into the nearest bathroom and being pushed up against the closed door. Dylan’s calloused hands gripping my leg and hitching it across his waist as he pounds into me mercilessly, fucking me so hard that I couldn’t walk the next day.

His eyes looked up at me for the slightest second and I could see the small smirk dangling from the corner of his lips, my breath hitching in my throat and disrupting my saxophone playing. Dylan noticed the way his smirk made me feel the need to press my thighs together and decided to play even dirtier by winking. I immediately moaned which came out as a strangled note from my instrument. The entire band looked at me with judgemental eyes at my horrid playing, but I was too busy focusing on Dylan chuckling lowly to himself.

“Alright!” I frustratedly shouted, surprising everyone in the studio. “Can we just please take a break from jamming right now? We’ve been at this for hours!”

Our vocalist shrugged carelessly and looked to his fellow bandmates, all shrugging as well before Tommy spoke up. “I guess we should. Maybe we can get something to eat?”

“Yes!” Dexter sat up from his stool, smacking his hands together. “Let’s go to that restaurant we had dinner at yesterday! They had the fucking best chicken fried rice.”

Everyone else agreed, each sharing the food they desperately wanted to eat there again. Well, all except for Dylan and I who were too busy staring at one another, lust burning our pupils to the point of no return. His eyes dipped for the slightest second to rake all over my body, gazing at the low-cut in my crop top before his eyes returned to mine with a cocky grin now invading his pink lips.

“You know, I think we should play our song one more time.” Dylan spoke up, his eyes never leaving me. My own narrowed, immediately understanding how much he still wanted to tease me. “To get it perfect before we officially record it.”

Again, everyone shrugged and agreed with his suggestion. Usually, I love how open they all are for anything but not today, not when I desperately want to feel Dylan’s dick twitching inside of me again as it quickly rubs against my tight walls.

“No, I think we should eat.” I counterparted, pulling the strap of the saxophone off my neck and placing the instrument in its case. “We need the break.”

“Maybe you need the break, kitten.” He raised an eyebrow tauntingly. “I mean, you do seem tense. What’s gotten you all worked up?”

The glare I gave him was nothing short of intense and full of raging fire. He and I both knew what he was doing, especially since he used that damn nickname that did inexplicable things to me. The entire band’s eyes were fixed on me and Dylan used the opportunity to run his fingers over his scruff as he winked yet again, fully aware of his power against me.

Fine then, two can play at this game.

“Having to constantly blow.” I retorted and it was my turn to smirk when his eyes widened. “The instrument, I mean.”

“Well I think you blow just perfectly.”

I was certainly glad that everyone else in the room was terrible at picking up on our innuendos and the incredibly strong sexual tension between Dylan and I. We haven’t exactly told anyone about us yet — mainly because we don’t even know if there is an us. We’ve been hooking up whenever it was convenient but with Dylan’s crazy schedule, it’s been pretty hard to maintain a physical relationship let alone possibly start an emotional one.

“Just one more?” Dylan teased and my mind immediately went to all of the times I begged him to quit pleasuring me when I was already so overstimulated, but he just kept going at it. “And then, I’ll- we’ll stop.”

“Just. One. More.” I stated through clenched teeth.

Picking up my instrument again, Dylan’s eyes were hooked on me as I licked my lips and wrapped them around the tip of my saxophone. The rest of the band members prepared themselves again and Dylan tapped his drumsticks three times to indicate the starting tempo. As soon as he was finished, we were all off and the song started playing beautifully. Despite not missing and mistaking a single note, Dylan and I focused on each other instead of our instruments. The walls of the studio were shaking at how loudly he was playing, each bang vibrating through the floor and into my body. It only made the aching in my core grow even more uncomfortable as it vibrated my cunt, forcing me to hold back any moan I wanted to release.

I watched as his head nodded along with the rhythm he created, his knees bouncing up and down as his feet continuously slammed on the bass pedal to carry the entire beat of the song. I hated to admit it, but our music would be nothing without Dylan’s talented drum skills. He was undoubtedly enjoying himself, the melody completing taking over his body… except for the eyes boring into mine that is.

Fuck, it should be illegal to look that fucking good playing the drums.

I thanked the Lord when the song was finally over and I managed to play every single note without letting Dylan distract me, despite almost falling prey to him many times. He put the drumsticks down on the floor and picked up the green bottle of beer from it instead, his lips pouting as he took a long sip. I was practically drooling at the sight of his adam’s apple moving up and down as he swallowed the bitter liquid. Everyone else, including me, put their instruments away for the time being.

“Time for grub!” Dexter celebrated and the entire room boomed with laughter at his excitement for food. Normally, I would be right there with him but at this moment all I could truly focus on were the way Dylan’s eyes were calling me.

“You guys go ahead.” Dylan stated, standing up. “I think I’d rather eat Chipotle.”

“You sure?” Tommy asked, everybody already at the door. “You should come eat with us so you’re not alone.”

“He won’t be alone. I’ll go with him.” I spoke up, clearing my throat. “Gotta have those delicious chicken cutlets.”

“Suit yourselves.” He shrugged, guiding everyone out of the studio and closing its door behind them.

It was as if the second that door sealed shut, every bit of sexual tension we were trying to keep to ourselves was released out into the air. Just the thought of what was undeniably about to happen next made my pulse accelerate, my heart pounding against my chest. I wasn’t the only one effected as I watched Dylan take slow steps towards me as if I were a magnet pulling him in closer and closer. He was practically undressing me with his eyes and usually I would blush at such a forward act, but now right now. Right now, all I want him to do is give into the lustful things his eyes are telling me.

“So,” I broke the silence, my breath unstable as he finally reached me and placed his hand on the small of my back. His lips brushing against my neck, making goosebumps cover my skin. “How about we go eat take out?”

“No, kitten.” He whispered, my body shivering at the feeling of his lips touching my ear. “I’d rather eat you out, instead.”

Dylan’s mouth immediately moved to mine and he crashed his lips against my own. I couldn’t help but moan into our sudden kiss, throwing my arms around his neck. His skillful lips meshed with mine in such a fiery and passionate pace, he almost made me lose my balance. My hands didn’t just remain on his neck as he successfully seduces me, but ventured over his back and explored the amazing feeling of his flexed muscles pressed against my palm. Our breaths mingled before Dylan licked my bottom lip with his tongue and I instinctively opened it for his tongue to have its very welcome entrance. I could taste the alcohol in his mouth along with the mint from his toothpaste and all of my senses were heightened, begging for more of him.

I broke the kiss, but he chose to continue teasing me as his lips moved to my jaw then my neck. Not even bothering to hide the fact that he was currently creating a purple bruise on my skin with his smooth assaults. My fingers gripped onto his back, my nails digging into our band’s t-shirt. He chuckled on my neck and I instantly whimpered at the resonance.

“Please, I have been unbelievably horny since the moment you walked through that door today.” I moaned. “Just fucking do something already.”

“Patience, kitten.” Dylan retorted, his fingers moving to the hem of my high-waisted skirt just to tease me. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Not when their friends will be back soon.” I mewled.

“Honestly, they could walk in on us fucking and I wouldn’t even stop.” Dylan nibbled on my ear. “Now, kitten, tell me all of the things you want my mouth to do to you. Teach me your favorite places.”

“You already know my favorite places, Dylan.” I responded and definitely didn’t miss the cocky grin he played on my skin.

“Just because of that impeccable response I’ll give you want you want, babygirl.” He whispered huskily before moving his hands to the back of my knees and lifting me up.

This time I was the one who started the desperate kiss as he walked forwards, my back suddenly hitting the wall behind me. I lost my rhythm with his lips and failed to remain the dominant one when his hands massaged the back of my thighs, sparking more desire throughout my entire body. Just as I was about to try and get my power back, Dylan unexpectedly broke our kiss. Our panting breaths hitting each other’s faces before he started to push me up. I looked at him with wide eyes, but allowed him to do whatever it is he’s planning to do. The next thing I know, I’m so high up that he wraps my legs around his neck.

With my legs dangling over his shoulders, Dylan moved one of his hands to my inner thigh and purposely drummed his fingers on my skin before reached the area closest to my core. I bucked my hips for him to do more and, to my surprise, he actually did. Dylan suddenly ripped apart the thong I wore and felt no remorse towards ruining something I owned, and, honestly, neither did I. I was so glad there finally wasn’t anything keeping him from touching me anymore that I didn’t even bother to think about the consequences.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding about how horny you are.” Dylan chuckled, certainly staring at the arousal covering my cunt. My hips twitched the second his finger swiped through my slick folds and a shameless moan fell from my lips when he licked his wet finger with his tempting tongue. “God, kitten, you always taste so damn good.”

“P-Please.” I begged.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Dylan smirked, nibbling my outer lips. “I know that I’m a drummer and I’m good with my hands, but damn kitten.”

“And I’m a saxophone player, I’m very good with my mouth.” I retorted, raking my fingers through his dark strands. “Which I’ll gladly use on you if you just give me what I want.”

“Well, you certainly have a way with words, babygirl.” He stated before finally doing what I wanted him to by swiping his tongue up my core, my vocal chords releasing the most animalistic moan the second the tip of his tongue touched my clitoris. “Damn, you sing the second I touch you.” He chuckled. “Kinda like playing the piano.”

“Then, play me.”

The last thing I saw was Dylan’s pupils dilate just before he dipped his head under the fabric of my skirt along with his hand and began his mind-boggling pleasure on my core. His tongue created fast and steady circles on my sensitive nub, immediate pleasure striking through my veins. However, my body buzzed intensely the moment he pushed a finger into my soaking heat and pumped it repeatedly. My eyes instantly shut tight and chose to only focus on the feelings he was creating inside of me.

I squirmed and my hips bucked involuntarily, my own fingers clutching onto his hair. He grunted at the harsh feeling and my lungs immediately gasped when the vibration of his voice rippled through my core and initiated the build up now invading me. I could feel my nipples hardening against the cheap fabric of my bra and I desperately wanted to pinch them in between my fingers — which is exactly what I did after I let go of him to rip apart my blouse along with my laced bra. Dylan couldn’t exactly see what I had just done, but he definitely put two and two together at the sound of the tearing fabric and didn’t hold back his moan. Letting what remained of my shirt and bra fall to the ground and playing with my nipples in my fingers, I felt as Dylan added another one of his in me. He increased the pressure and the pace, giving more power to my build up.

“F-Fuck, baby.” I moaned audaciously. “Just like that.”

He followed my request and continued moving his two fingers in my tight cunt rapidly, but his lips however wrapped around my clit. His tongue still licked and played with it as well, but now he had added his sinful mouth to the mix. My sensitive nub enjoyed the attention it was getting from Dylan, flashing pure thrill and bliss straight to my build up.

Carefully hearing out how responsive I was being, Dylan decided to do more when he knew I was ready for it. He scissored his two fingers inside of me and I screamed, my body already shaking with its arriving orgasm. Dylan’s addictive movements in my cunt only stopped right when he knew I was going to cum and curled the tips of his fingers against my walls instead, the perfect amount of pressure I needed to fall into my release.

I didn’t expect Dylan to stop as I came, but I certainly did expect him to when I finished. However, he did not halt his actions at all. In fact, Dylan only increased them. His hand removed itself from my core and returned its post on my thigh along with the other one. He pulled back from the wall and my own hands immediately flew to his hair for stability, but I didn’t make it in time. Although his grip on my thighs were incredibly strong enough and wouldn’t let me completely fall, I couldn’t help but squeal when the top half of my body dropped down, by back now resting on his legs.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get more intense, Dylan slipped his tongue into my cunt and I urgently wrapped my arms around the back of his knees. The new position enhanced everything he was doing to me, expanding my pleasure by one-hundred percent. I whimpered and mewled at Dylan’s invasive touch, considering how overstimulated I was. But, he didn’t stop his attempt at giving me more than one consecutive orgasm.

His tongue was deep in me, constantly brushing my g-spot, and he licked around my walls, definitely enjoying my taste by the way he moaned continuously along with me. My back arched and my legs shook again at the feeling of his tongue literally fucking me just as Dylan’s thumb applied unbelievable pressure on my incredibly swollen clitoris. Not only making me reach my orgasm and cum, but literally fucking gush. My immense arousal squirted out of my cunt, certainly soaking his entire face.

This time Dylan did stop, but only when he deemed ready. My core was throbbing intensely as he walked us over to his drumming bench and asked me to place my hands on them for him to pull my legs off of his shoulders and carefully settle them on the floor without the risk of hurting me nor letting me fall. Once he laid my legs on the ground, my butt involuntarily sitting down too, I watched with hooded eyes as he pulled his shirt off his body and used it wipe his face clean.

“Take your skirt off, kitten.” He commanded, unbuttoning his khakis and letting them drop to the floor.

“Yes, daddy.” I bit down on my lip, enjoying the view of him momentarily losing his shit at the nickname just as he stepped out of his pants pooling at his feet.

“Daddy, huh? Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier…” He smirked, taking taunting steps towards me. “Now, why don’t you kneel here in front of daddy?”

I didn’t say anything, I just changed my position to settle on my hands and knees and slowly crawled in his direction. The feeling of my skin scraping against the rug burned, but I chose to ignore it. I could see the huge bulge in his grey boxer-briefs create a wet stain with his increasing precum at how the sight turned him on beyond compare and it boosted me to sway my hips more, my confidence growing. Dylan’s hand moved down to his crotch and he slowly palmed himself over the fabric before becoming impatient and pulling down his boxers just enough to start touching himself. Immediate heat and lust rushed back to my core at the way he pumped his own dick, my mouth drooling at his actions.

Once I reached him, I placed my hands on his bare thighs to steady myself as I settled just on my knees, the rug digging into my skin. Our eyes were locked together, my mouth inching closer to his shaft. He didn’t stop masterbating even when I took his tip into my mouth and sucked profusely, his throat making its own strangled noises. My tongue licked the precum off of his slit and Dylan’s hips bucked, involuntarily​ pushing a little more of him inside my mouth. I swatted his hand away and he let both of his hands run through my hair as I took in as much of his cock as I could. Dylan gathered my hair together in a temporary ponytail and whilst my mouth bobbed his dick rapidly, my tongue would constantly graze against his prominent vein on the underside of his member.

“Shit, kitten.” Dylan moaned, bucking his hips faster. “Your talented lips feel so fucking good around my cock. Thank God you’re so invested in playing the saxophone.”

I moaned around his staff and he immediately growled at the intense vibration, his hand gripping tighter in my hair. Impatient with letting me be in control, Dylan pulled my hair back roughly, my head going along with it. Then he, suddenly, pushed my head right back to take him in again deeply — so deeply that his swollen tip lodged in the back of my throat. Dylan created this new pace where he would pull my hair to guide his dick in and out along with his thrusts. The stinging pain on my scalp from his harsh pulling did not overpower the lust inside of me and I willingly allowed Dylan to use my mouth as a damn fucktoy.

“Fuck me, babygirl.” He grunted before unexpectedly pulling me back and not letting me take him in my mouth anymore.

Suddenly, Dylan tore my grip away from his thighs and let my hair go. He took a step back, my palms immediately landing flat out on the floor to keep from falling. The strands of my hair swayed to the front of my face as he stepped out of his boxers and walked behind me. I heard him fall to his own knees and, without any warning, a loud sound of Dylan’s palm slapping against my skin echoed in the room along with the sound of my scream at the stinging pain of just getting spanked.

“God, I fucking love your ass.” Dylan confessed, sinking his teeth into my cheeks and letting go right after another scream escaped my lips.

“Jesus Christ, Dylan.” I grunted, already out of breath. “Just stop teasing and shove your dick inside of me already.”

“Did you just call me Dylan?” He tisked and I could picture him shaking his head. “You know that’s not what I want, babygirl. Which means I won’t give you want you want.”

“N-No, I’m sorry!” I whined. “Daddy, please.”

Dylan surprised me when he pushed just his tip inside of me, my core pulsing around him. However, he stopped teasingly and it drove me absolutely crazy. I tried bucking my hips back, but Dylan just grabbed my waist roughly and halted my attempts.

“Come on, daddy.” I whimpered at the feeling of his dick throbbing. “Just fuck me.”

“Like this?” Dylan asked, slowly pushing in until he was buried to the hilt before pulling back out at the same agonizing pace. He did this a few times and my body begged for more, not able to withstand the slow rate.

“Faster.” I begged impatiently. “You know how I like it rough.”

Dylan moaned at my commands, but continued his vehement torture anyway and I wasn’t having anymore of it. Bringing my hands back, I ripped Dylan’s off my waist and he almost lost his balance at my sudden movement. Pulling his dick out of me, I pushed him to lie down on the rug and threw my legs over his hips to straddle him. Both of my knees settled on the rug and Dylan’s eyes widened at me before they narrowed with a growing smirk.

“Damn-” He began to speak, but my finger flew to his lips and stopped him from continuing his sentence. His eyebrows quirked in curiosity and I simply gave him the most smug grin I could put together.

“I’m in charge now.”

Dylan’s dick twitched in between my thighs at my new confidence and his hands flew to my hips, allowing me to do whatever I damn pleased. I grabbed his shaft before positioning it at my entrance and sitting down on him until I felt his balls on my ass. His head instantly fell back to the ground, his eyes shutting tight. Thanks to how fucking wet I was from just having two orgasms (and counting), it wasn’t hard to glide him in and out of me. Both of our throats erupting into uncontrollable moans and neither one of us had the intention to stop.

My hands were splattered out on his chest, my nails raking down his skin and digging into it as his own fingers gripped my hips tightly to help guide me. I bounced up and down on his cock, the wet sound of skin meeting every time my cheeks came into contact with his balls. Dylan growled lowly whenever my nails created stinging shapes in his flesh. My build up returned stronger than ever, already licking at my veins. Dylan could sense how close I was from how I tightened around his shaft and his eyes opened, a sense of mischief pooling in them.

One of his hands made its way to our repeatedly connecting bodies and everything inside of me jerked the moment his fingers applied rough pleasure on my clit. A flash of heat spread through my body as I screamed, not able to hide how much I loved his addictive advances. However, it was when Dylan sat up and not only changed the angle but pushed me back a little so he could attach his mouth onto my breast that the build up won. My arms wrapped around his neck to keep some sort of balance as my body violently shook with its intense orgasm. I continued to bounce on his dick and Dylan grunted loudly when I clenched around it. His teeth bit my nipple harshly and I screamed, all of my senses dancing on the surface of my skin.

Even as my body fell limp and stopped moving, Dylan didn’t. His hand on my hips wrapped around my waist and elevated my body slightly before thrusting up into me. At this point, I couldn’t even control the overwhelming amount of screams falling from my lips along with his name.

“That’s right, kitten.” He managed to say through moans. “Scream my name and forget every other name that exists. I’m the only one that can fuck you like this.”

I felt that same flash of heat again, followed by another and another as he continued to thrust up into my g-spot, his cock rubbing so fucking deliciously against my tight walls that it made me want to cry. No crashing waves and no build up, this time a violent pleasure tore through me. A whiplash of ecstasy snapping at my clit and spreading everywhere. Dense streams of cum slithered down my legs and I noticed as it soaked him, dripping down his cock, covering his balls and pooling over his thighs.

His fingers changed its pace on my overly sensitive nub and I crashed again, falling deep into the abyss of euphoria. Each climax was unique and when the final one was drawn out of me, I actually cried — like literally. My tears rolled down my flushed cheeks. My lungs hurt at the lack of air. My throat was dry from screaming too much. My lips were raw from the insane amount of kissing and biting down on them. And every joint in my body ached.

When he noticed I couldn’t handle anymore, Dylan pulled himself out and laid me down on the floor. I was completely out of breath and unable to move my body, but I still watched with hooded eyes as he crawled over me. Each of his knees settling beside my shoulders, his hands moving down to my head and grabbing my hair.

“Do you wanna taste daddy’s cum, kitten?” He teased and I immediately nodded. “I’m gonna need you to say it.”

“Yes, daddy.” I spoke up, my hands holding onto the back of his knees. “Fuck my mouth.”

That’s all the incentive he needed to shove his dick into my mouth and I gladly welcomed it back. Dylan used his hand on my head in synch with his thrusts to control how deep he wants to go. Because he was already so close to his edge from constantly feeling my cunt tighten around him, Dylan was already falling off of it in a matter of seconds. It only took a few thrusts and my mouth hollowing out as my tongue constantly licked his sensitive tip. Dylan’s hot release immediately shot out of his slit and landed on my palate, the delicious salty taste of his cum making me moan.

“God, no one can give a blowjob like you, babygirl.” Dylan whispered huskily, laying back down on the floor beside me.

The sexual tension in the air eased down and was replaced with pure bliss, both of our chests rising and falling with heavy breaths. All of a sudden, Dylan turned around and nudged his face amongst my shoulders. Goosebumps making its ways on my skin at the feeling of his hot breath against my neck as he wrapped a lazy arm around my waist.

“What'cha doing there, Dyl?” I asked curiously.

“Breathing in your neck because you always smell so good.” He shrugged.

“Well, I’m just gonna pretend that’s not a weird thing to say.” I chuckled and he laughed with me.

“Sorry.” He smiled, placing a chaste kiss on my skin. “Would you rather I whisper things into your ear so you remember them when you’re not with me?”

“Hmm, that would be nice.” I smiled before it turned into a grin. “But, I’d rather go eat that take out.”

B99 + Apartment AU: in which Jake, Charles, Rosa, and Amy live together while attending the police academy.

  • They technically see each other every day at training, but they all still try to hang out together once a week. (Usually movie nights, occasionally game nights, sometimes with alcohol, always in pajamas.) 
  • Charles offers to make dinner for all of them some time during their first week together. – He makes a dish involving bull testicles and is never allowed to cook for them again. (He’s still allowed to make hot cocoa though, which Jake asks for every time he comes home with a bruise.) 
  • Amy dies a little on the inside every morning Jake sleepily pads into the kitchen, hair still messed up from sleep and voice still a bit hoarse. 
  • The smoke alarm goes off almost every time Amy attempts to cook something. 
  • The number of times Amy has thought about just walking over to Jake’s room and kissing him senseless is  r i d i c u l o u s.
  • Rosa has at least three extra locks on her door, and none of the others have seen the inside of her room. (After catching Gina sneak out of there the morning after their graduation, Jake bribes her into telling him exactly how it looks like.) 
  • Jake somehow manages to leave various articles of clothing everywhere, and this annoys Amy to no end. (Partly because each rumpled shirt just makes her think about what it would feel like to tear his clothes off herself.)
  • Amy puts a calendar on their fridge and implements a cleaning schedule, with the chores all divvied up between the four of them. Jake complains very loudly about this at first but later has a ton of fun dancing around their living room while vacuuming and scream-singing Taylor Swift songs.
  • Charles regularly helps Rosa with her texting game. (Amy tries to contribute at some point, but her offer to proofread messages is quickly shot down.) 
  • From her room, Amy hears the door slamming closed followed by the sound of muffled voices and giggling. She peaks her head out a bit, and her stomach lurches when she catches a blur of bodies making their way toward Jake’s room. She crashes at Kylie’s that night because the walls in their apartment are thin, and she doesn’t want to hear a thing. (It’s a drunken one night stand that doesn’t come to anything because the girl’s apparently in law school studying to be a defense attorney.) 
  • Charles and Rosa do yoga together on Sunday mornings. They try to get Jake and Amy into it, but Jake just makes a joke out of everything, and Amy becomes weirdly competitive about it. 
  • Jake once woke everyone up at an ungodly hour because he had been watching a nature documentary and yelling over the grossness of live births. He since then has been banned from watching nature documentaries past midnight. 
  • Every so often (more and more frequently as time passes), Jake and Amy find themselves sitting on the floor of their living room way past 2 am, just talking and laughing. (Charles and Rosa can hear them from their rooms, but neither of them say anything about it.)  
  • Through the wall between their rooms, Rosa can hear Amy creepily singing songs before each big test/evaluation at the academy. The third time this happens, Rosa knocks on Amy’s door and stays with her until she’s calmed down. (”You’ll do great. Stop stressing, dum-dum.”)
  • Jake runs out of shampoo and doesn’t want to dig through Charles’ erotic shampooing kit, so he sneaks into the girls’ bathroom and steals a bit from the first bottle he sees. (Turns out it’s Amy’s, and it drives him nuts that he smells like her the whole day. Amy somehow doesn’t notice, but Rosa threatens to castrate him if he ever enters their bathroom again.) 
  • Charles likes to blast show tunes while doing chores or cooking large meals (or doing anything, really). They’ve all had front row seats to his renditions of choice songs from Oliver, Annie, and Cats. 
  • Amy’s usually pretty neat, so Rosa is shocked to enter her room to find nuts all over the floor… and on her shirt, and in her hair, and somehow on her bed a few feet away. (”Jake said I couldn’t catch any of these with my mouth, so I’m just-” “Don’t care. Call me if you grab each other’s asses.”) 
  • Jake’s been thinking of asking Amy out for ages, but he’s too afraid of the potential fallout. Both Charles and Rosa try to talk him into doing something about his feelings.
  • Amy once catches Jake coming out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist. Needless to say, all work was forgotten that evening, and she had to take a long shower herself. 
  • It’s during one of their 3 am heart-to-heart convos that Jake and Amy finally kiss, and they don’t end up sleeping until the sun starts to rise. When Amy comes out of Jake’s room close to lunch time (donning one of his checkered shirts, because her pajama top is nowhere to be found), she finds a spread of various aphrodisiacs (courtesy of Charles) and a box of condoms (courtesy of Rosa) on their dining table. 

Shout out to @peraltiagoisland, @elsaclack, @dogworldchampion, @stardustsantiago, and @tiadorable for letting me yell about this AU and helping me come up with these headcanons!!!!!!!!

TREE BROS HEAD CANNONS

It’s one AM and these kinda just popped into my head LETS GO

• Connor fails his suicide attempt, Zoe finds him in his room about a minute after Connor swallowed a fuck ton of pills

•Evan hears about this cause Connor is always a main source of gossip at the school

• especially for Jared

• Evan thinks about when he failed his suicide attempt and knew, at least partly, how Connor felt

• Evan, knowing he wouldn’t be able to just walk up to Connor and start talking, starts writing letters

• Dear Connor Murphy, I heard what happened and I want you to know, I failed as well over the summer

• Evan always signing them as Sincerely Me

• Connor getting the first letter five days after he leaves the hospital, two days after he goes back to school

• Connor reading it, and thinking

• maybe I’m not completely alone

• Evan writes Connor a letter every Tuesday and Thursday

• Whenever Connor ditches school he makes sure it isn’t a Tuesday or Thursday

• Evan mentions things that go on in his life, how he wishes he could stand up for himself, how he wishes he could help his mother, how he wishes he could talk to the girl he likes

• Connor starts to develop feelings for the mystery writer but ignores it cause

• A. Who would like him

• and

• B. I don’t even know who writes the letters, how the fuck can I be in love

• Evan slowly starts to make sure Connor is doing okay when ever Connor actually shows up to his math class

• Evan slowly starts to realize that he doesn’t like Zoe as much, but why?

• Evan shoots up in bed one night thinking

• Fuck. I like the school stoner

• Evan then slaps himself cause that’s not all that Connor is

• his mom hears him talking to himself and asks if everything is alright

• Evan quickly shouts back a yes, and gets back in bed, still thinking of Connor Murphy

• the last day of school before Christmas Break, Evan leaves a small gift at Connors locker and a note even though it’s Friday

• he’s surprised to see that Connor also left a gift at his locker for the mystery writer

• Evan puts it under the tree

• Heidi asks where it came from and Evan starts blushing and stuttering and mumbling about how he writes letters to Connor Murphy

• Heidi sees the light in her sons eye that hasn’t been there in years

• She bakes cookies for Evan to give to Connor

• Evan brings the cookies to the Murphy’s house, rings the door bell and runs

• Cynthia opens the door to see a plate of cookies and card saying ‘Dear Connor Murphy, have an excellent Christmas, sincerely me’

• Cynthia is super excited cause she believes that Connor has an actual FRIEND

• Cynthia takes the cookies up to her sons room

• Connor opens the door, glaring at his mother, and then he sees the cookies and the note card

• he picks it up and reads it quickly before blushing and grabs the plate, shutting his door

• on Christmas Evan opens Connors present last and is very happy to see that it’s a tree encyclopedia with a note that said ‘you always talk about how you love trees so, here’ and on the other side is a beautifully drawn tree

• CONNOR MURPHY CAN DRAW SO FUCKING WELL AND EVAN JUST MELTS AT THE TREE AND HE INSTANTLY PINS IT TO HIS WALL

• Connor opens his gift in his room, and is surprised to see two new black sweatshirts and a bottle of black nail polish, the saying ‘Dear Connor Murphy, your sweatshirts seem to have a lot of holes, I didn’t know if it was for comfort or what but I got you a new one. Oh and I really like your nails so here’s some more polish, sincerely me’ Connor actually smiles, and he feels all warm inside AND WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THIS WHAT THE FUCK

• Jared eventually finds out that Evan writes Connor letters cause he saw the tree on the wall while Evan was getting snacks and flipped it over and read the note

• he immediately asked Evan who it was from

• Evan blushes and mumbles Connor

• Jared demands a wider explanation

• he doesn’t stop teasing Evan about it

• At school Jared starts acting funny around Connor and Connor starts to freak out cause

• SHIT IS JARED THE LETTER GUY

• but he calms down for a second when Jared accidentally spills the beans

• Connor was reading another one of Evans’s notes, Jared walks up to him with a shit eating grin and says

• 'Another love note from Evan Tree Boy Hansen I see.’

• Connor is instantly relieved they’re not from Jared

• he then freaks out cause THE CUTE QUIET DORKY NERD THAT SITS BEHIND ME IN MATH WRITES ME FUCKING LETTERS

• Connor corners Evan after school

• Evan is nervous cause he thinks Connor hates him.

• he is pleasantly surprised when Connor gives him a quick thank you before dashing off

• Connor then starts to write Evan letters on Wednesdays and Fridays. Monday’s are the chill day

• Connor finally accepts that he totally loves Evan but he still thinks that Evan could never like him that way, especially since the guy Evan mentions in his letter can’t be him

• beautiful brown hair? Nope

• gorgeous blue eyes that seem to have a hint of brown in the left one? Well yes but they aren’t gorgeous, his are hideous

• a face that was crafted by God himself? Absolutely not

• Evan starts to wonder if Connor wants to be friends with him and asks him exactly that in a letter

• Connor replies with a 'no shit’ and his phone number

• Evan was ecstatic when they hung out for the first time

• so was Connor

• and their moms

• at the end of senior year, Evan tells Connor that he has to take a gap year to save up money

• Connor decides he’s not going to college without Evan as he doesn’t know how to make friends and he was just fucking lucky with Evan

• They were hanging out at Evans house the next winter and they both had a few drinks cause what 18 year old doesn’t drink. Evan isn’t THAT innocent guys

• they both tell each other that they like one another and share a small kiss that they both have wanted for a while

• they fall asleep on the couch, holding each other

Imma stop there. Feel free to add on, that was insanely long and I might write an actual thing for this?

my thoughts on OITNB s5
  • That video of Alex getting her arm broken went viral. Kubra thinks that she’s dead. Could he end up seeing that video and sending someone else after her? Or maybe he’ll just try to get her arrested for Aydin’s murder.
  • Even though Daya shot Humps, it was the stroke caused by the oxygen blown into his IV by Maureen that killed him. Will an autopsy be done to determine his cause of death and prove that Daya didn’t kill him. If an autopsy is done and the police question Maureen I’m guessing that she’ll lie. The only person that can discredit her is Suzanne and she’s not exactly a reliable witness.
  • I’m not sad that Piscatella died but I would’ve liked to see him live a little longer. I wanna know if Red showing him mercy would’ve changed his perception of prisoners.
  • VAUSEMAN GOT ENGAGED
  • Last we saw Piper’s mom she was not a fan of Piper being with Alex. Will we get an explanation as to what changed her mind? Or are we to believe that she’s done caring about what other people think and just wants her daughter to be happy?
  • I know it’s not likely but I hope Maria tells the governor’s assistant that Gloria also helped with the guards’ escape. And will she get anything for breaking out the guards?
  • I’m thrilled Nicky stayed sober this season but it was only 3 days.
  • Will we ever learn how much time Alex has left?
  • If you guys haven’t seen Dreamgirls, you need to. There is a movie that came out in 2006 with a phenomenal cast. There will be no White Effies.
  • VAUSEMAN GOT ENGAGED
  • The Blanca/Red friendship is something I never could’ve imagined happening in season 1. I love seeing characters that don’t normally interact come together.
  • What will Flaca and Maritza do without each other?!
  • I was loving Taystee all season until she turned down Fig’s offer. She let down all the woman, they ended up with nothing, and because negotiations fell through, CERT went in there and abused the inmates. Never mind the fact that someone might die.
  • Alex and Piper playing house all season was so cute and adorable and perfect. This is probably their best season. AND THEY GOT ENGAGED. They both better live because I need a Vauseman wedding.
  • Speaking of Vauseman, Alex saying Vauseman gave me life.
  • I hate Leanne and Angie as much as the next person, but them burning the files may end up being helpful to the inmates. It seems like common sense for Litchfield to have electronic copies of the files but a lot of things in Litchfield don’t make sense. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were no digital copies (it’s a long shot). And the inmates don’t have their IDs. That might cause a problem when they try to check who they have.
  • With the inmates presumably being sent off to separate prisons, will the show keep them separated and take place between multiple prisons, will the show get everyone back together, or will it just take place in one of the prisons and leave the inmates not in that prison behind?
  • I really wanna know what the point of Pennsatucky and Donut’s relationship is. It’s hard to watch her fall for her rapist. What is Jenji Kohan trying to accomplish here?
  • That Poussey scene was a spot of light in what ended up being a pretty dark season.
  • VAUSEMAN GOT ENGAGED
  • Michael J. Harney was credited as a series regular this season but Healy wasn’t in a single episode. What’s up with that? (not that I missed him)
  • Mystery solved! The weeping woman is always crying because her dog got blown up by her husband.
  • Kinda curious as to why Piscatella didn’t try to capture Lorna as well, kinda don’t care. I figure it’s because she was in too public a space.
  • I always thought Leanne and Angie were just stupid, annoying meth heads. Now we now that they’re rapists. Can oitnb find someone else to be their “comedic relief”?
  • And why does this show treat rape like it’s no big deal? Angie made a comment in passing about how she’s raped guys. She and Leanne raped the strip dancer guard. Donuts raped Pennsatucky. I think the fat guard talked about how he raped someone last season. What’s wrong with this show?
  • VAUSEMAN GOT ENGAGED (I’m just really happy that they got engaged, okay? I’m trash)

Alex asks the million dollar question at the end: was the riot worth it? The characters and the audience may not be able to answer that question now since we’re still waiting to see the full aftermath, but knowing what we know do you guys think it was worth it? They set out to change the conditions in the prison and got nothing. They set out to get justice for Poussey and got nothing. But they did humanize themselves to the public. Aleida giving interviews, Flaritza’s videos, and Alex’s viral video of her arm getting broken have put faces and names to people that the public never really thinks about. Maybe Piper’s right and change will happen one person at a time and those people will work to change the system. Maybe the public can elect officials that want to reform prisons. Maybe the public will refuse to purchase products made by prisoners.

Maybe the riot was worth it because the women of Litchfield forced the world to look at them and see them as people and not as commodities or unredeemable felons. Maybe it’s worth it in the long run but it doesn’t seem like there will be much take away in the short term.

Bygones of the Sun | 03 (M)

Originally posted by hobismole

Genre: Angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok

Length: 7.8k

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

01 | 02 | 03

Keep reading

Punk (Chap. 12)

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 3923

Warnings: language, talk about injuries, sarcasm (sometimes jokes are okay)

A/N:  Thank you all for the amazing feedback and support on the last chapter.  I’m completely blown away and ecstatic that you like the story.  I hope you like this next part, it’s a little drawn out but I had some angst I needed to get out.  Feedback is always appreciated.  Thank you again for your patience between updates.  



Apparently Natasha didn’t actually want you to answer that question.  She was ranting and raving, throwing her hands in the air, pointing a polished, accusatory finger in your direction.  She switched from English to Russian so quickly that it seemed as is if she were a one-woman show playing all the parts.  You couldn’t get a word in edgewise though.  Every time you opened your mouth to reply she merely answered herself or spoke right over you with a barrage of “what were you thinkings” “you could have dieds” “I’ve never seen anything do stupid in my entire lifes” “what the hell is wrong with yous” and what you suspected were several rude and explicit Russian insults.

Keep reading

Out Cold

Prompt: Prompt if its alright-Lance with narcolepsy?- anon

I had so much fun writing this, so thanks so much for the prompt! This is a one-shot, and even though the ask didn’t specifically ask for klance… it ended up in here because, as I’ve said before, I have no self control. It took a bit of an unexpected turn, but hopefully the anon likes it? And other people do? As always, feedback is appreciated!

oh and @taylor-tut if you want to read it, of course


Lance’s entire life was full to the brim with close calls.

Granted, fighting a war against a corrupt alien empire will have its share of near-death experiences. But, oddly enough, another type of close call worried him more.

Lance didn’t particularly want to die if he could avoid it, but he’d honestly prefer that to his teammates finding out.

And he knew there was a chance they wouldn’t judge him for it, wouldn’t think it made him less of a paladin. After all, Hunk didn’t care in the slightest. But there was always the chance that they would.

Lance had always prided himself on being able to hide things. And it was even easier to hide things from the team than his enormous, nosy family. 

His ideas, insecurities, homesickness, bisexuality… he’d learned to bury these things deep down inside himself and try to ignore them.

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