they keel you

DM: Okay, Elmer - your turn.
Bard: What’s in front of me?
DM: There’s just one orc sentry remaining by the mouth of the cave. 
Bard: Right, and I’m invisible, so I sneak up behind him and whisper over his shoulder:
“According to all known laws of aviation, there’s no reason that a bee should be able to fly—”
Group: *bursts out laughing*
Bard: And I cast Dissonant Whispers. 
DM: Okay, he makes the save.
Bard: Then he takes only 8 points of psychic damage.
DM(laughing): It’s enough! He keels over.
Cleric: Holy fuck.
Bard: To bee or not to bee.

damn the delivery boy.

Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk / Reader.

Genre: Expecting Parents AU / Fluff and Non-explicit smut.

Summary: Jeon Jeongguk is a computer science major working as a pizza delivery boy, and you are an uninspired published author who has just started an art degree. When you realise that the delivery boy is your old high school crush, he keeps coming back, but with more to offer than just puff pastry and vegetarian supreme. Though little did he know that he would end up giving you something much more that flips both of your worlds completely upside down in the form of two blue lines and nine months.

Count: 9,656 words.

month one.

Two lines.

The second is a little faint, but it is there, undeniably there, growing stronger by the second as your heart sinks deeper into the pit of your stomach and suddenly you are keeling over the sink, throwing up a combination of panic and regret. You wipe your mouth, sit back on the closed lid of the toilet, shut your eyes and take a deep breath, holding it until your lungs burn and your lashes fly back apart to look at the test still shaking between your fingertips.

There, right before your eyes, two fucking blue lines protruding like two middle fingers, poking up at you and saying – Congratulations sucker, you are pregnant!

Twenty-three years old and pregnant.

You throw up again.

This has got to be the biggest mistake of your life.

Keep reading

I’ve gotten quite a few asks recently wanting to know what my issue with Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition is. You’ve probably seen my grumbling about edition-warring a time or three, so I want to clarify that that isn’t where this post is going. I think 5E has a lot of fantastic ideas, and I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it to new players. The problem I have with it isn’t that I don’t like what it’s doing; it’s that I see a lot of great game design ideas lumbered by a conscious refusal to take them to their logical conclusion - or, in other words, it’s not that I think 5E goes too far, it’s that I think it doesn’t go far enough.

(Fair warning: a lot of this is going to be really jargon-heavy game design stuff that normal people probably don’t care about. That’s your cue to check out if tabletop RPG meta isn’t your cup of tea!)

To start off, there’s a concept in game design - applicable to both video games and tabletop games - called “mechanical engagement”. Basically, it’s what it sounds like: how and when the player is called upon to make rules-based decisions. Some games have high mechanical engagement, in the sense that players are given lots of rules-based “toys” to play with and expected to interact with them frequently; other games have low mechanical engagement, meaning that there are fewer rules-based “toys”, and fewer player-facing decisions about how to deploy them.

Moreover, in games that have roles or classes, different roles within the same game can offer different levels of mechanical engagement. It’s tempting to think of this in terms of low mechanical engagement = basic and low-powered, high mechanical engagement = advanced and high-powered, but this ain’t necessarily the case; you can see this phenomenon in action in the sphere of video games in, say, 2D fighters, or multiplayer online shooters. You have characters/roles with complicated and demanding execution, and characters/roles with simple and straightforward execution, and the former aren’t necessarily more powerful in practice, in spite of being more demanding to play.

The reason this happens is because a player’s preferred level of mechanical engagement is totally independent of any other axis of play (e.g., preferred role, preferred aesthetics, etc.) Some players like having lots of rules-based knobs and levers to play with, and they’ll gravitate to roles that will give them that even if there’s no actual benefit - i.e., even if it obliges them to work harder just to get to the same level as players in roles with lower mechanical engagement. Similarly, some players just want to press buttons and watch stuff explode - they prefer low mechanical engagement.

There’s nothing wrong with either preference, and one of the major perks of playing a tabletop RPG with class/role-based character creation is that it allows you to accommodate different preferences in terms of mechanical engagement within the same party. You can have players who want to juggle lists of special abilities as long as their arm, and players who just want to hit things with swords, and they can play at the same table - everybody wins. Again, remember that this is totally separate from wanting to play a “low powered” or “high powered” character; the level of mechanical engagement that a role demands is a different axis from how big its numbers are.

Now, one of the perennial issues of fantasy tabletop RPGs in general and D&D in particular is tying particular levels of mechanical engagement to particular role aesthetics. In many iterations of the game, if you want to play a role with high mechanical engagement, you have to chuck fireballs, and if you want to play a role with low mechanical engagement, you have to be a sword-slinging meat shield. A player who wants high mechanical engagement but also likes swords is liable to be told, both by the game’s text and by other players, that she’s Doing It Wrong - and so, for that matter, is a player who wants low mechanical engagement, but also wants to set stuff on fire with her brain.

(Incidentally, this is one of several areas where core-book 4E solves a real and recognised problem in the most hilariously unsubtle manner imaginable, by bashing every role into exactly the same level of mechanical engagement. Which is fantastic if that just happens to be your preferred keel, because now you can play and enjoy every role - and terrible if your ideal toybox is too much larger or smaller, because now every role is an equally bad fit for you.)

5E brings a couple of great ideas for solving this problem to the table:

1. It introduces a series of “tutorial levels”, where each class‘s abilities are introduced gradually over the levels 1-3, reducing entry barriers, leveling out the learning curve, and allowing folks to “try on” different levels of mechanical engagement more easily; and

2. It introduces system of templated archetypes whereby particular classes/roles can be “tuned” to different levels of mechanical engagement, making the same basic set of roles accessible to players with a broader range of preferences in terms of mechanical engagement - and, critically, the choice of template doesn’t have to be made until after the previously mentioned “tutorial levels” are complete.

Sounds great, right?

The problem is, it only applies to fighters and rogues and related classes. Clerics and wizards - i.e., the full-featured spellcasters - don’t get any “tutorial levels”, are obliged to choose their archetypes at first level, and all of their archetypes are about equally complicated - to the point that, for example, the lowest mechanical engagement cleric you can build has more rules-based toys you’re obliged to wrangle at any given level than the highest mechanical engagement fighter.

In other words, the game turns around and goes some distance out of its way to reinforce the very problem that this design pattern is meant to solve!

This pattern is repeated in several other places. For example, one of the long-standing disagreements among the fandom is whether D&D should primarily support epic, globe-trotting “high fantasy” or gritty, street-level “low fantasy” as its default tone. It’s as much a question of rules as it is of flavour text, so it’s hard to do both - but 5E gives it the old college try, which is a frankly fascinating decision. How does that play out?

Unconventionally, 5E does it based on character classes: you literally have some classes that are built out of high fantasy tropes, and some classes that are built out of low fantasy tropes, with the result that you can have characters who basically hail from totally different genres of fantasy fiction running around in the same party. This isn’t necessarily a bad idea; there are lots of inspirational sources that setup could describe - I mean, just look at The Lord of the Rings. If that’s not a prototypical case of high fantasy characters and low fantasy characters partying up, I’ll eat my hat.

This’d be another great opportunity for the archetype system to shine - but again, we see this obnoxious wall slamming down between “martial” and “magic” classes. This time it goes the other way: fighters and rogues default to low fantasy genre assumptions, and have access to archetype templates that can dial them up to high fantasy - but clerics and wizards default to high fantasy and don’t get anything to adjust that.

Tellingly, the high fantasy archetypes for fighters and rogues basically operate by bolting half a wizard to the side of their respective classes. You end up with a strange dynamic where some characters from a given piece of genre source material are valid inspirations, but not others - e.g., you can be Merlin, but not Lancelot; Gandalf, but not Legolas; Medea, but not Achilles. Again, we see this reactionary notion that only spellcasters are allowed to play in the big-kid sandbox; the game’s text openly acknowledges as much by flat-out stating that only full-progression spellcasters are relevant when determining which tiers of play a party can engage with. And again, the tools to fix that are right there; the game just doesn’t deign to pick them up and use them.

I could keep going, but I suspect I’ve harped on long enough that y’all get exactly where I’m coming from here. It’s like… these are not new problems. Maybe not all players care about them, but it’s nearly universally acknowledged that they exist, and it would have taken so little effort to address them - the game literally developed the perfect tools to do so, then didn’t use them. It drives me crazy to see a game come so close to what could have been a legitimately revolutionary take on the genre, then deliberately stop juuuuust short of the goal line.

Protégé (M) [Part 7]

Originally posted by jjks

[1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6

Word Count: 17.9k

Warnings: Sexual abuse, violence, degradation, a lot of dark, sad shit.

With each minute that ticked by, displayed by the bright red, digital numbers on the dash, Jungkook began to feel more anxious. They’d been driving for a while now, long past the vibrant lights of the city. They were going far too fast for him to even think of bailing–there was no way he’d live through a tumble from the car, and a part of him worried that that fate might be preferable to the one he was currently headed towards. He moved his eyes to stare at the profile of Mrs. Choi, her eyes focused on the road ahead of her, her lips pressed into a line of painted red more suited to a woman half her age.

It was then that Jungkook realized he very probably hated this woman. It was in the very next moment that he realized he very probably only hated her because he was terrified of her. He’d been seldom afraid of much in his life; his brother getting sick, of course. But as far as people were concerned, Jungkook found comfort in the knowledge that he could hold his own. He needed this woman–or rather, he needed Mrs. Choi’s money, and there was no telling what he’d be put through to get it. A frightening thought occured to Jungkook in the fact that he’d have to take whatever she put him through if he wanted to save his brother’s life.

Keep reading

The Fire In My Heart

Group: BTS


Excerpt: “Guk, you’re rather bold aren’t you? But I think you’ve just lit a fire in my heart.”

Genre: fluff, firefighter au

Length: 1.3k

A/N:  I love a man in uniform ;)

Originally posted by hey-seoul-sistah

If you had known when you had put on your mismatching pants and bra after your shower and started to cook in them, that within the hour you’d be in a gorgeous firefighter’s arms as your apartment was in flames you would have chosen sexier pants; not the pale pink ones with cartoon rabbits on the ass. But how were you meant to guess what was going to happen that fateful night?

Keep reading

Dogs? Dogs are extremely resilient when it comes to abdominal surgery. We create a lot of inflammation after surgery, but the body clears it. I’ve seen a dog swallow a toothpick and have it penetrate the body wall. They don’t care.
Horses? You can drop a junior mint in there and they’re gonna die.
—  Our Radiology professor comparing dogs and horses

Wow so this happened… On a semi hiatus but here’s a lil angsty smutty gift for y'all. Happy Sunday.

Originally posted by happybirthdayjjk





Drabble game prompt #12. “Say it!”

He fucks you relentlessly into the sheets, and turns you around so you’re on your hands and knees.

His fingers slide provocatively up your slit from behind as he guides himself back into you, and the both of you let out simultaneous moans as you reconnect.

You mewl as he continues thrusting, and suddenly a hand that’s anchoring him upright next to your head comes down to your chest, pressing up to indicate that you should get up on your hands. Confused, you let him pull you up so that your back is up against his chest and your hands are coming down to hold your weight. The hand slides up your neck and continues until he’s cupping your jaw.

“J-jungkook?” You whimper as his hips don’t stop thrusting into you, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.

He doesn’t respond and instead yanks your jaw harshly to the right, turning the both of you to face the nightstand.

And then you see what he sees.

Keep reading

(That “half his heart” ask inspired me, so…) 

Three years ago he came to you. You weren’t surprised to see him hover around your hospital bed. His type fed on new death, and you were almost there. He waited, glowing eyes in the dark that everyone saw but no one could make go away. Your parents tried, first telling him to leave and then begging him to. 

They should’ve known better. Death eaters were patient creatures. And you…you were almost a corpse by then, anyway. 

And then he surprised the both of you. Instead of waiting for you to keel over like the vulture he was, he saw something in you, something you still hadn’t discovered, yourself. Whatever it was, though, it drove him to slice open both his and your chest, to cut in half your hearts, and to trade them. 

It was mutually beneficial. You lived in a constant half-dead state – who needed breath and food, anyway? – and he drew strength from the half-dead heart in his chest. 

At first you thought it was merely a kind of business transaction, but he wouldn't leave. He followed you, watched you, even protected you. You saw his eyes when you were shopping for new clothes, peeking out between the racks; you heard the scrape of his talons at college in your philosophy class; you felt his panic when he pulled you out of the way of speeding car. 

Then the gifts began arriving. You’d wake up with freshly shredded corpses on your bed, something that used to be a bird or raccoon not only left there but arranged just so. Some mornings you’d find coagulated blood in a pouch on your doorstep, and sometimes you’d pull a mutilated rat from your bookbag when you sought out assignments to turn in. Somehow it was all…appealing. 

He turned death into beauty, your savior. 

He didn’t speak much, nothing beyond low, guttural words struggled past sharp fangs in a desperate bid to communicate with you. That’s what did it for you: that struggle to speak. You sat with him for hours, helping him learn to speak basic words around the mass of teeth in his mouth. 

That night he sang to you as you crawled into bed, curled up underneath your mattress. In the morning you woke with him snuggled around you, all warm fur and long limbs, his snout in your hair. 

And he never left again. From that day on, he was always with you, always beside you. People were scared, confused, even enraged; it raised suspicions and incited paranoia. Why don’t you eat? Why is that thing following you? What happened to you in that hospital? 

Eventually, annoyed, you chose to leave. Humans had nothing more to offer you, anyway. 

“Take me home,” you told him. 

No human had ever ventured to the death eater’s realm before. Not only was it crazy, but it lacked all life except the creatures themselves, and even they had to leave to feed. If not for their own beating hearts, the realm would be considered wholly dead. Even the air could kill a human. 

living human – but you weren’t alive anymore, were you? 

His family was gigantic. They accepted you, though – you were, after all, carrying half the heart of one of theirs. And, gradually, you began understanding their trilling and clicking, and you began feeling your monster’s emotions. As time passed, you even found that the monsters weren’t monsters at all – they were just a family, a sentient race of terrifying-looking creatures whose home and food both required death. 

They never killed. They merely scented death’s arrival and waited for whatever it was to die. 

Outside of that, they were just like people. His brothers liked to present themselves like they were him, playing little jokes on you. His sisters found your blonde hair fascinating, always petting and brushing it. His parents were huggers, and every time you met them they paused to embrace you before letting you go. 

Three years ago, a monster saved your life. Now you lived with him in his world, bringing life to it – the body you thought was totally dead proved to have one last spark left. 

You named her “Hope”. 


“Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran | Choreography by Blake McGrath

at Millennium Dance Complex in LA

ft. dancers: Blake McGrath, Sean Lew, Maddie Ziegler, Noelle Marsh, Kalani Hilliker, Zachary Venegas, Tori Caro, Mollee Gray, Camryn Nevaeh, Hallie Keel, Sam Mcwilliams

That’s Not Fair [Sirius Black – Marauders Era]

[Requested] When James and Sirius pull pranks, it’s usually at the expense of others. Y/N L/N just so happens to get caught in the crossfire of one of their latest gags.
♥ A/N ♥
I love this idea, not going to lie. I hope I did it justice! Oh, and I also went ahead and made it a Sirius x Reader because I couldn’t help myself. Hope that was alright with you, darling! And thank you so much; you’re too sweet! As a side note, I’m sorry for being so inactive. I’ve had a really rough time lately, and I don’t have anyone to talk to so that makes it twice as hard. I hope you all can understand, but I promise to get better at updating! In the meantime, enjoy xx :)

Originally posted by michinio

19. “I’d rather kiss Fluffy than do this.”

Merlin knew that they usually condemned lowly Slytherins to their gags and hexes, or took it to a whole other level of sheer idiocy by pranking people in the Great Hall and Gryffindor common-room. There was even the occasional prank in the Slytherin common-room, but today, James and Sirius had decided the proper setting would be the potions lab.

Slughorn was up at the front, yammering on and on about the side-effects of taking Draught of the Living Death, when it happened. You were minding your own business, writing down notes and pondering the proper brewing technique to use with your cauldron that day, while simultaneously adding ingredients and stirring, when you felt a tickling sensation in your lower abdomen. You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped you, and you clutched at your stomach in an attempt to contain yourself. It didn’t work.

Your partner—a Slytherin girl with a pug-nose and permanent scowl—gave you a nasty look, but you still laughed. You laughed, and laughed, and laughed—and the sensation felt like it wasn’t ending anytime soon. Was it meant to? Everything on your body was twisting and turning, and it was like a feather was tickling you at every area you felt the slightest bit of sensitivity at! Thus, who could not help but to laugh?

Before you could stop it, you were keeling forward and knocking over your cauldron. The potion spilled across your table and onto your partner’s robes, leading to her shrieking and flailing about. Apparently, Slughorn forgot to mention that the potion burned when making contact with human flesh.

Professor Slughorn abruptly stopped talking, and his eyes widened in shock when he caught glimpse of you laughing yourself to an early grave and your partner screaming and crying at the pain. He gasped. Then, he caught glimpse of Sirius and James shaking and cackling at their booth, one holding a wand while another was crying tears of laughter and slapping the table. There was no thought necessary to see what had just occurred, and the poor Parkinson girl deserved some sort of retribution.

“Y/N L/N! Sirius Black! James Potter!”

James’s wand was suddenly put back in his pocket and you stopped feeling so ticklish. Your peals of laughter were quickly ended, and you looked like a deer in headlights as you glanced around at the scene. Bloody hell.

Sirius smiled innocently at Professor Slughorn. “Professor!” he greeted, giving the jolly man a hearty salute.

Slughorn furrowed his brow, looking a bit perplexed by the situation. James and Sirius obviously had a hand in this, of course; why else were they laughing and fooling around with their wands? Then there was Parkinson, who was a definite victim, covered in burn marks from carpels to elbow. You were a bright student, but Slughorn had noticed you glancing at Sirius from time-to-time and giggling along with the others whenever the two mischievous Gryffindors played some prank or another. Sirius must have gotten you to mess with the poor Slytherin and cover her in burns and boils!

“Fifty points from Gryffindor! And detention, all three of you,” Slughorn said firmly. At the front of the room, Snape bore a pleased look on his face while Lily’s lips were pursed and her eyes were narrowed. “Tonight at 8 o’clock sharp; I expect you in this room five minutes earlier than that. You’ll be cleaning supplies, trophies, and cauldrons—”

“That is so unfair!” you burst out, unable to believe the shite you were hearing. You glared at Slughorn with all your might. “I didn’t do a single thing!”

Slughorn ignored you and turned to that Parkinson bitch, giving her a soft smile. “Mr. Avery, please escort Ms. Parkinson to the Hospital Wing.”

Avery smiled darkly at you and the two Marauders, then beamed at Slughorn. “Certainly, Professor,” he said, and did as told. Teacher’s pet, you thought bitterly. You sneered at Parkinson before Avery had helped her from her seat, not giving a damn that Slughorn seen the entire thing. You were already pissed at Slughorn, Sirius, James, and Parkinson.

And you already had detention with three of the four. Whooptie-fucking-doo.


To ascertain Professor Slughorn’s face turning a shade of purple, you walked in fifteen minutes later than you were meant to. You were even stripped of your robes and wand, instead bearing a deadly scowl and crossed arms.

Slughorn met your gaze the moment you walked through the door. He eyed your figure from head-to-toe, face even more displeased than you anticipated. He glared at you. “So nice of you to join us, Ms. L/N,” he said. You were honestly a bit surprised to see James and Sirius already sitting at the lab tables. They were looking at you a bit apprehensively, and you appreciated the gesture of fear.

“I don’t deserve to be here,” you said simply. “I don’t even know why I bothered to show up.” You cut your heated gaze over to James and Sirius.

Professor Slughorn cleared his throat at the hostility in your voice, but decided to ignore it. “Very well, then,” he muttered. “The cabinets and cauldrons are charmed so that simple wand magic won’t work as cleaning units. That being said, you’ll need to hand-clean everything. I’ll be back in two hours, and if everything isn’t cleaned to my liking, then expect to stay here an extra hour or two. Understand?” The three of you muttered your affirmations. Slughorn looked suspicious, but held back from voicing any comments. “Alright, then.”

When the door was slammed shut behind the waddling man, you let loose the groan you’d been holding in since you first received the detention. “I’d rather kiss Fluffy than do this,” you growled. If you didn’t find Sirius Black so bloody attractive, you would have punched him in the face by now. Instead, you opted to storm over to where James was propped up against a table and kick him in the shin.

“Merlin’s sodding left nut, Y/N!” James yowled, holding the afflicted area with a pain-stricken expression painted on his face. “You kick like a bloody man!”

“Good,” you said. You glanced at Sirius—a horrible mistake on your pair—and had to instantly look away to avoid the butterflies in your stomach. Damn him! Damn his black hair, gray eyes, Adonis-like jaw, and muscular arms! Damn him to Hell! “Now, if you excuse me—” Without sparing the two another glance, you marched over to the supplies cabinet. Grabbing a wet-rag, you set about on cleaning a cauldron.

James, after some time of caressing his lower leg, made his way over. Sirius—the bloody dog—followed his partner in crime, his walk more like a swagger. It made you want to retch.

For the first twenty minutes, you ignored the boys and cleaned your chosen selection of cauldrons. They were whispering to one-another, paying more attention to their ridiculous jokes and gags than their work. If you’d had your wand, you would have used it to hex the bastards, if only to make them do as told and not leave everything up to you.

Sirius gave a loud snigger, and you turned to look at him. He had his wand out and was pointing it at a cauldron. With a quick swish-and-flick, as well as the murmur of a cleaning spell, the cauldron was spotless. James gave a gasp, and you felt yourself stiffen in surprise.

“Slughorn was trying to trick us!” Sirius said. His smirk was wide enough to tear his jaw in two.

You were impressed. “They can detect magic when it’s used on inanimate objects,” you told him. Your cheeks involuntarily heated when he turned to look at you; Merlin knew what other girls felt when his smoldering eyes met their gazes. You hoped you were better at hiding how flustered you truly felt. “Slughorn was probably trying to test us.”

“Slughorn’s not that smart,” Sirius said disbelievingly. “I’m surprised he had enough of a brain to make up some way to have us hand-clean his shite.”

You rolled your eyes and glared at him. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if the two of you didn’t hex me with a tickling charm!”

“It’s not a hex unless it hurts,” he said, voice a bit too patronizing for your liking. “It was just a charm. How was I supposed to know you were going to knock your potion onto Parkinson?”

“Ugh! You Marauders never bloody think!” You threw your hands up in exasperation. James was watching the two of you in fascination, looking like a Muggle boy at the cinema. “I could have been the one covered in boils and burn marks!”

“I’m sorry, alright? Is that what you want to hear?” Sirius asked mockingly. “But you have to admit—Parkinson’s shriek was fucking comical. Greatest gag of the century, that was!” He and James reached to one another, meeting in a high-five.

You grabbed the cauldron you were just cleaning and flung it at Sirius. You didn’t have any reason to do it, nor a grievance that made sense of your fury, but you felt it necessary to unleash your annoyance on him. You weren’t even that annoyed, honestly. Did that make you regret your actions? Not in the slightest.

Sirius briefly howled in pain, then cursed his mother’s name, father’s name, cousin’s name, and brother’s name. The cauldron had hit him right on the forehead, causing him to drop his wand and a fast-growing knot to appear in the middle of his brow. He was rubbing at the area and muttering curse after curse.

“Bloody fucking hell,” he growled and gave you the side-eye. “What was that for?!”

If you were smart, then the appropriate response would have been to lift your chin proudly and not talk at all. However, you weren’t a very smart girl—at least when it came to attractive Gryffindor boys. “For constantly looking at me like you do! Like I’m just some sodding Gryffindor girl you want to shag!”

“What if I want to do more than shag you?” Sirius shouted back. James was looking between you two with wide eyes, probably wondering if the same thing could ever occur with him and his Lily-flower. “What if I want to make all the blokes know you’re mine? Hang my arm around your shoulder and kiss you whenever I bloody well please?!”

You marched forward and poked him right in the chest. “Then why don’t you?” you snapped at him. Before you had the chance to spring on him another challenge, he was fisting your hair and meeting your lips in a passionate kiss.

James whistled in the background. “Go, Padfoot!” he said encouragingly, as if to compensate for his lack of a girlfriend. “Didn’t know you had it in you!” Well, he did—but anything to further encourage his mate for a committed relationship!

You flipped your middle-finger up at James. Smugly and with great pleasure, your arms slithered around Sirius’s neck and your lips parted wide for Sirius to gain entrance. Merlin, you never expected for an undeserving detention to result in this.

Let’s just say that Professor Slughorn was very displeased to find a certain Potter boy missing from the scene and you and Sirius making out against the supplies cabinet. The two of you received a week’s load of detentions, but it was fucking worth it.

Now im just trying to fathom how the hell people manage to take the piss out of everything under the goddamn sun.

At this point it’s obvious what this is gonna be about, so let’s start off with

What the fuckity fucking fuck are you doing Internet(aka primarily YouTube)

Alright so as the month has gonna by I’ve seen so much bullshit about “cringe” How children making art for fandoms that’s weirdly drawn is cringe.

And I’m just here like

Originally posted by too-cool-to-know-ya

Bitch. What’re you doing complaining about children’s art and the sexualization of cups. The second one I can understand the complaints but the first one is like.. how.. how are you passing judgement like kidney stones when you probably did the same fuckin shit when you were a kid.. I’d like to know, I genuinely would man.

And I see such bullshit reasoning on the Internet

Youtube especially

Take a look at this shit man

“It’s really cringey” Oh yeah just like your fucking terrible argument honey.

No one remembers the fact that we were all kids at one point, we were all young, we all did dumb shit and posted our young art, that we probably hate as of now when we look at it(Let’s be honest I hate my old art, it sucked-), and yet we have people throwing shade at children.

And hey lets not forget it’s not just older teens and adults doing this, it’s coming from every age group, including other kids who wanna be “cool” and like every other fucking person, babbling on about cringe, you’re all setting such a shit example of how you’re supposed to be as a human, which is, decent. Don’t be amazing(I find it hard to be, but hey if you wanna try and be perfect and amazing go ahead), don’t be terrible, be decent, respect others and the content they put out onto the platform of their choice, cause let’s be honest, is it gonna kill you? Are you gonna keel over and die if someone ships their ocs or themselves with a fictional character that, might I remind you, DOESN’T EXIST?????

The people bitching and moaning are in a big primary group of different bullshit ass complaints when they just sit there and argue with people about how it’s cringey instead of giving a valid argument or sitting the fuck down and not talking at all.

They are people who find enjoyment in making and watching said cringe comps because for whatever reason they like looking at children’s art and saying shit like “Oh I wanna drink bleach now” which is really fucking dumb in my opinion, unless you give constructive criticism on how they can improve their art you literally shouldn’t be fucking laughing and posting shit like that, it makes you look like a huge asshat.

Sometimes they’re on a whole other level of dipshit

I’ll give some examples here

I can already tell by the names that they’re all prepubescent kids or really dumb teens.

Can I ask, did your mom not teach you to have some fucking humility??? Why are you so compelled to do this shit when it won’t do anything but destroy people’s chances in the end?

Lemme break down what I just said, these people in these cringe comps that make the animations and art that give you a fucking video in the first place are probably gonna have a hard time improving and posting newer fresh and more clean lined content when you’re literally throwing them into a pit of fucking vipers.

It’s hard to get new content out when you’re the center of ranters and cringe comp makers attention, because you find your art in that video one day and look at the comments and you see how fucking rude everyone’s being and not giving a drop of constructive criticism, instead they make bleach jokes and joke about killing cringey batim animators and artists.

It makes you look like a piece of shit, not some funnyman on the Internet, you looks like a huge asshole whose making fun of kids having harmless fun because you think you’re entitled to do so.

Case and point, if it doesn’t kill you, don’t try and kill it with insults and rude manners, more than likely you’ll look back and realize what you were doing was really immature and dumb.

So yeah, mini rant I guess, forgive me if I misspelled something, it’s almost midnight and I’ve been stressed the fuck out with school and I’m in messy shape.

I’m tagging fandoms I think “cringe” primarily stems from in most scenarios, and remember this is all my opinion, you can criticize it and do whatever, if you can’t criticize an opinion you pretty much have taken away the whole premise of an opinion.

these voices shall keep me waiting- (m/a)

Kingdom / Fantasy AU

Characters: Yoongi, Jimin, Jungkook, Reader, and the OC The King 

Pairing(s): Yoongi x Jungkook x Jimin Yoongi x Jimin Jungkook x Y/n |

Warnings: dubious consent, mentions of rape, underage sex, mentions of death (no actual death), smut, angst with a happy ending ;))

Words: 40,815

| mobile tumblr has a hard time with long fics like this, so here’s an ao3 link to the fic if you’re having issues |

(( this isn’t at all historically correct, while it wasn’t meaning to be. it gives no specific dates to when this is taking place, so imagine it the past, or if you’d like, the future ))

Act One- Love for the King 


This is the kingdom. A simple village, and separated from it, the castle. It’s walled in layers of brick, which at the tops of its 4 corners, are stations where guards stand day and night. There is a King and a Queen, along with their many staff. The rain is incessant, relentless; and when it isn’t raining, a thick veil of fog lays itself along the ankles of the staff. If mapped, there are 3 things to show of it, a tower that’s up in the clouds, a field for the horses, and the long strip of building which is the castle. This is where one enters, and does not leave, if in pure faith to the King, in pure fear, or if only a body beneath the Ostrich Ferns, of no use to the King any longer.

A question, to those who work for the King: have you been soaked in the grease of his fingertips over your skin? Have you drowned in it? Have you drowned in him? Have you been bruised at the knees, bruised at the eyes, at the heart, with your love for your King?

There isn’t much an answer though. There are gruesome answers, as it is a gruesome story. Not gory in its violence, nor are there any wars. It’s gruesome in pretty boys wrecked on wrinkled duvets, and the nitty gritty kinds of details that twist one’s nose. Of course, love stories can sprout from such sickly conditions such as those; the same love stories can as well wilt. 

The King is not defeated by the end, dethroned from his power. Yet, it’s still a happy ending. An ending of maybe two boys falling in love with the clouds, floating off from the Kingdom finally. Or another boy growing a daisy amidst the mud, until the rain is sparse enough to let it grow. Perhaps a girl cuts her dress so as not to trip over it anymore. That can be your happy ending, if you dare allow it to be.

This is the love story of when the sour rain turned sweet. 

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You’re the Tony Rydinger to my Violet Parr

Originally posted by hollandoakes

Written by Christina

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 2171

Requested by anonymous: Hello! Can I request a peter parker x reader where the reader has invisibility and force field powers but is super shy at peter’s school and one day she gets bullied and Peter saves her and when he’s Spider-Man she saves him and he falls in love with her plz and thanks 😋 

A/N: I really hope you guys like this one! Please let us know if you have any feedback, positive or negative. I had fun writing this one. :) I thought of Violet from “The Incredibles”, hence the title lol 

 You crouched down, hiding by the convenience store across the street from the bank that was in the middle of being robbed. Three men were inside, shoving cash into large black duffel bags. They all were clad in black, complete with stereotypical ski masks. You took a deep breath, slowing your thumping heart and felt a slight chill run from the tips of your toes all the way up to your scalp. You glanced down, unable to see your hands or legs. You smiled a little as your confidence surged, glad you were finally gaining more control of your powers. You had them your whole life, but the only control you had over them was to keep them a secret; never using them. But, ever since you saw Spider-Man online one night, when you were supposed to be studying for your calculus exam the next day, you knew you could use your obscuration ability to help him out, even if you were invisible to him.

You saw the robbers you were observing dash out of the bank, each of them carrying duffel bags full of cash. You felt your heart skip a beat, suddenly feeling anxious as your mind began to race through every single worse case scenario. Hey, you told yourself, it’ll be fine. Just don’t think about it. You imagined your mind as a whiteboard and yourself wiping all of your thoughts away, and with one more deep breath, and held your arm out, concentrating. Moving targets were always the hardest. You imagined a giant bubble enclosing the robbers, keeping them contained. Only, this bubble didn’t pop. You heard one of the guys yell, making the other three halt, spinning on their heels to see what was going on.

One of the men was in the middle of the sidewalk, pounding on an imaginary barrier like a mime. Except you knew he wasn’t miming. Your force field only caught one of the men. You winced at the pain the captured man was causing you; if anyone hit your shields, it was a like someone was slamming a hammer against your skull. You kept up the shield and raised your other hand, trapping the three other men in another bubble before they could run to assist their pal. All three of the men crashed into the wall of their bubble falling to the ground and the resulting pain causing you to yelp and drop your shields. You moaned as the pain subsided, rubbing your temple.

“What the heck was that?” One of the men yelled, turning this way and that to try to see a source of the mysterious boundaries. You felt your heartbeat and adrenaline pick up again, making your knees shake. You glanced down, you were still invisible. Well, partially; one arm was exposed. You were glad you decided to hide in the shadows, just in case this happened. You exhaled, a chill running down your arm as it turned invisible. As your arm disappeared, an odd swishing sound ripped through the air. You lifted your head up, toward the source.

The one and only Spider-Man was crouched on top of a street light, hands extended as he launched web after web at the bad guys, trapping them to the ground. You stared in awe, admiring how swift he was, the vivid color of his suit, the way his biceps bulged under the constraint of the near skin-tight uniform… You shook your head, stepping out of the shadows and dashing across the street to meet your idol, keeping your steps as light and silent as you could. Spider-Man froze, his head cocked to the side like he was listening. You had reached him when he stopped webbing up the bad guys, so you froze too, a few feet behind him. For some reason, you felt incredibly nervous all of the sudden, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break your ribs. Spider-Man turned around, facing you. You gasped a little and double-checked that your invisibility was still functional. Spider-Man stared in your direction. Did he see you?

“Hello?” Spider-Man called out, his voice cracking ever so slightly. Your vocal cords froze. You just stood there, three feet in front of Spider-Man, invisibility powers concealing you. After an eternity, Spider-Man called out again, but when he got no response, he sighed and turned, flinging a web toward the building in front of him.

“Good job, Spidey,” You heard him say, “You’re just hearing things. Thanks, Spider-sense, for giving me a heart attack.” He swung away, leaving you in front of the bank, the four bad guys trying to fight their way out of their sticky situation. You sighed, feeling warmth seep into your skin as you switched your invisibility powers off. The sound of the four robbers screaming like little girls when they saw someone suddenly appear out of thin air made you jump and unconsciously switch you invisibility back on, making them scream even louder. You ran toward your place, done with fighting villainy for the night.

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azul23blue  asked:

Hi!!!! Uuuh... so for the Drabble number 8 and 87 with the maknae line please? And maybe some scolding from everyone at the end? Idk *shrugs nervously*

Risky Business

Maknae line x reader

genre: fluff

words: 2006

summary: A friendly game of the floor is lava turns into something dangerous.

Inspired by this prompt list

Originally posted by kidolsblackandwhite

The giggles being shared between your group of friends could be heard for miles as you ran through the streets. Their wide-toothed smiles were covered by solid black face masks, but one sideways glance towards Taehyung and you could recognize that he was happy just by the crinkle underneath his eyes.

The three youngest boys had snuck out of their dorm, Jungkook calling your cellphone whining and begging you to meet up with them to get into some trouble. Being the great best friend that you are, you naturally agreed, riding your bike over to their dorm just in time to see Jimin’s legs come sliding out of their window, followed by a loud snicker, and Jungkook’s face as he pushed him out with a thud. Taehyung had tried his best to shoosh them, holding his finger up over his face as he loudly laughed, someone opening the door to their bedroom just in time to catch them darting away.

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Claim (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Hey guys! So I’ve been on a Bucky itch for a few days and thanks to @emilyevanston​ doing a nifty little Cards Against Humanity writing challenge, I got to quell that itch. Thanks for that! Anywho, I hope you all enjoy it because I had fun writing it!

Summary: When Bucky Barnes sees a child (a la Clint Barton) lick a popsicle, the long journey of claiming objects with his saliva begins. Soon, you find that it might not be such a bad thing. (PROMPT: Licking your things to claim them as your own.)

Warnings: None (unless you count slobber). (Let me know if you need anything else tagged. I want you to be comfortable when you read my work.)

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