this is the best picture i could find of him with the gun

Top 13 Most Unfuckable Men in Dragon Age (according to me, a lesbian)

Honorable Mention: Oghren

I am not including Oghren on the official list for a couple reasons. Firstly, jokes about how gross Oghren is are basically everywhere. I can’t make a remotely original joke on this subject because they have all already been made. Secondly, I don’t want to subject anybody to actually thinking about fucking Oghren. And third, it’s no fun punching down. Nobody likes Oghren except me. And I get it. Oghren is a pretty cool character who was grossly mishandled by writers who think sexual assault, alcoholism and homophobia are hilarious jokes and not serious issues. Sorry about all this, Oghren. Enjoy your free pass from being mocked by a lesbian on the internet.

13. Zevran Arainai

Zevran is the least unfuckable man in Dragon Age because he wouldn’t make it weird. He’d give you a nice lay, do a good job, and then high-5 you afterwards. He’s nice-looking and experienced and would overall be an almost not-unpleasant experience. If there was a gun to my head and someone forcing me to pick a Dragon Age man to fuck, it would be Zevran.

12. RDP Sten

I say Realistic DAO Project Sten and not regular Sten because frankly RDP Sten is the true Sten. Honestly, look at this man. Assuming you didn’t die during intercourse, he’d make you breakfast the next morning, then reshackle your roof and do your taxes. RDP Sten would take care of you. RDP Sten would treat you right.

11. Justice

…as long as he gave Anders’ body a bath first, because wow he sure is a guy who lives in a sewer. Justice is a friendly Fade spirit curious about the mortal world and its many wonders. Fucking Justice would be a nice opportunity to show an otherworldly being a good time. Not to mention the novelty. Think of the puns you could make afterwards. “It was a spiritual experience.” “It was truly righteous.” “Justice isn’t easy–no, Justice is hard.”

10. Varric Tethras

Varric would be the ideal sugar daddy. He’d indulge you, buy you nice things, tell you stories, and when it’s time to go to bed, you’d just have to put up with him bringing his crossbow with him. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t even get to the sex. You’d have half your clothes off and then he’d start telling a story and three hours later he’s cried a little about his ex and fallen asleep cuddled up to his crossbow. Meanwhile, you are free to go back to your house with your money and jewelry. Ideal.

9. Alistair

Alistair is inexperienced, but a nice boy. You could show him a good time, and then pat him on the head and give him a cookie afterwards. He’s funny and nice and if you aren’t his first lay, it’ll probably be Morrigan and she would probably turn into a spider halfway through just to fuck with him. I’m willing to fuck him just to spare him that being his first time. Alistair might make it weird and try to give you a flower or something, but he’s young and easily dissuaded. Fucking Alistair would be acceptable and satisfying in some ways.

8. Iron Bull

He ugly, but otoh, monster dong, if you’re into that. Iron Bull wouldn’t make it weird emotionally, but he would definitely make it weird sexually. Assuming you survived, you would have a hell of a story. I would bring that up at every cocktail party I went to for the rest of my life. “I fucked a minotaur man,” I’d say, sipping my martini. “He had an eyepatch, and a dong the size of your forearm. I’m lucky to have survived.” The party guests gasp and fan themselves at the scandal.

7. Nathaniel Howe

I have no feelings either way about fucking Nathaniel Howe. I would show up, do the deed, and leave. Maybe give him a thumbs up, to be polite. My entire soul doesn’t rebel against the concept, but neither can I think of any benefits to fucking Nathaniel Howe.

6. Sebastian Vael

I wouldn’t hate to fuck Sebastian, and he seems nice, I guess. He’d be on par with Nate, except for the fact that he’s a devout fantasy Catholic. I’m morally opposed to fucking Catholics, because I don’t like Catholicism, and because I don’t want to deal with their ensuing guilt. I would tolerate fucking Sebastian.

5. Fenris

Fenris is objectively one of the best-looking men in Dragon Age, but oh lord, the canon romance path is so much. I’d do it just so I could touch his pretty hair, but I’d feel real bad about it. I like fenris. I don’t wanna cause him troubles. On the other hand, Isabela seems to manage it without much emotional fallout, so perhaps it would be alright. Fucking Fenris might be perfectly fine, but it might end terribly for all involved. As a lesbian I’m not gonna risk it.

4. Anders

Anders is a nasty sewer man who has no particularly attractive physical features to make up for it. He’d probably be an alright lay, but if you fucked him he’d definitely fall in love with you. Possibly he’d have already been in love with you for like three years. Then post-fuck he’d say a lot of weird stuff and ask to move into your house, and you’d be so worried about his eating habits and his stress that you’d be like “sure :)”, and then you’d have to change your name and flee the city to escape. Don’t fuck Anders.

3. Blackwall

I previously had Blackwall a spot higher, but then when I went to google a picture of him I realized he actually looks okay. Lumberjack aesth. Nice beard. Probably nice chest hair. Good muscles. But he’s also kind of a stinky old man who is kind of like your dad, and he would make his weird guilt issues your problem. I’d rather not, although I grant that if he was a couple decades younger he might be Acceptable.

2. Cullen

I would really hate to fuck Cullen. I find him morally repugnant, physically unimpressive, and overall vile. Not to mention that he seems like the kind of sexually inexperienced dude to just try inserting Tab A into Slot B with no foreplay–but then, would you really want foreplay from this guy? At least it would all be over within 5 minutes and then you could make your escape through the window.

1. Solas

Solas is the absolute most unfuckable man in Dragon Age. Not only is he bald, and a genocidal maniac, but he would also get weirdly hung up on you. Then he’d like, haunt your dreams. “Vhenaaaaaaan,” you hear every night forever, to your horror. “You’re not like other girls,” he says, before showing you a picture of his fursona, which is a wolf. I would rather do literally anything else but fuck Solas. I thank G-d every day that Solas is not real, and that I am in no danger of ever fucking him. Solas is the least fuckable man in Dragon Age.

Ok but can we talk about how the Paladin’s bayards don’t just suit them, but actually ARE them? THE BAYARD PICKS THE PALADIN, MR. POTTER.

The bayards are frankly the coolest metaphorical device happening in this show and I haven’t seen anyone talk about it yet (I’m sure someone has, but I feel like it’s not really… a thing??), and if my major has taught me any(useless)thing it’s to get stuck on functional motifs in storytelling so

Keith

I mean this is just fun. You’re probably not surprised that he gets the big blade because he’s main-character-red and the emo/possibly-Asian-one, but let’s consider a few things: 

The fact that it’s sharp on both sides acts as a physical reminder of the duality happening within his character (he cuts others down, but internally he’s cutting himself down just as much: a double-edged sword). 

Furthermore, that double edge reminds us that it’s a loner’s weapon: he needs to be able to attack with each swing, in any direction, because no one’s coming to back him up. It may be space, but dude is clearly rockin’ the lone wolf/samurai vibe. The length backs that up a bit as well–it keeps everyone he sees as an ‘enemy’ or a ‘rival’ at a distance (//side-eye @ lance). 

What’s even more interesting is that if you look at Keith’s relationship with his bayard compared to his Marmora blade, they represent his hidden and public selves: who people see him as/expect him to be vs. who he truly is and wants to be (is afraid to be) himself. 

Most people only see his bayard, a classic warrior/knight weapon that represents strength and grace and leadership. Keith brings this out in battle, in front of his friends, before enemies, etc. But when he’s alone at night or when he’s holed up in the desert, the blade on his mind and in his hand is his Marmora dagger. Despite being a secret for so long, it is actually this blade (and not the bayard he got from Voltron) which Keith always keeps close to him (and which he keeps strictly concealed). 

He covers up the mark on the hilt as if to cover his own hidden thoughts and feelings (and maybe even dubious past). In public, he feels he can proudly show his bayard but doesn’t want anyone to know he has the dagger, even before he himself knows what it might mean. 

Even more interestingly, this blade also represents close combat–letting people get close to you–and the desire to protect others, showing that these are things Keith thinks about, feels, and even wants, but is afraid to show to those around him. What’s more, while the obvious skills and general cool-dude-ness associated with the bayard are something Keith has earned/achieved by his own merit, the Marmora dagger (and all the things it represents) were something he was born with; something inherently part of him. Ironically, once Keith learns more about his dagger and what it represents, it becomes longer–it adds distance, just as the truth about his past puts distance between him and the other paladins.

Like, I could literally (gladly) write an entire essay just on the symbolism of how Keith treats these blades, but you get the idea. 

I was gonna do Shiro next but his is even sadder than Keith’s so let’s do

Pidge

So some things about this are obvious: it bears a (kind of adorable similarity) in shape to her head. It’s small, she’s small, but if you underestimate either of them you will be sorry. It’s an incredibly quick/nimble weapon (a great parallel for her stinging wit). Her bayard is designed for quick, surgically precise movements, which is exactly how Pidge works (both mentally and metaphorically).

However, while it has great attack capabilities, that’s clearly not the bayard’s (or Pidge’s) main purpose; it’s a necessary consequence in the pursuit of other goals. Rather, the transformative and flexible uses of Pidge’s bayard emphasize the desire to be useful and to solve problems over attacking. This is belied by the fact that Pidge forms Voltron’s shield. Pidge would much rather think her way out of/around a problem than charge in head-first

Her bayard is a reflection of that. Pidge’s bayard is also the most technically complicated, which is another great parallel for her mind. Furthermore, the grappling hook function of her bayard echoes her desire to find things out of reach, and cast out into space and bring those things close to her, or herself to them (*cough*MATT*cough*). 

TL;DR: it’s an all-purpose, unassuming weapon meant to perform multiple tasks in an efficient, creative way, and it focuses on problem solving/extraction more than brute attack (though it packs plenty of punch when cornered). And, of course, though she be but little, she is fierce.

Lance

As his swagger (and even his name, like talk about being on the nose) suggests, Lance is totally in-your-face, up-in-your-business blabbermouth who seems pretty simple to understand. So why does he have the weapon that arguably requires the most finesse, patience, and also has a long range? Because that’s what Lance is really like under all that talk. It may seem like Lance lives with the words “are we there yet” on his tongue, but consider this: Lance wanted to be a pilot, but was originally relegated to commercial-class ranks. Did that stop him? Nope. He kept at it until he made it to the top of those ranks (it’s safe to assume that if they only promoted one pilot to fighter-class after Keith’s expulsion, it would be the top of the commercial-class students). That’s more patience than any of the other paladins have shown.

As a gun in a team that has close-combat weapons, Lance’s bayard automatically assumes a supportive role (despite all his talk about beating Keith and being the best), and we see this multiple times throughout the show. His first day as a fighter-class pilot, what does Lance do? Talks to his team and says they should stick together. How does he find out about Shiro? He’s following Pidge and asking about what she’s up to–crazy theories that others wouldn’t care to hear out. There are a lot of other examples of this (notably, when he throws himself in front of Coran), but from the get-go we’re slyly shown that Lance actually cares about and pays attention to those around him (even though he keeps talking about kicking their butts and being #1). It makes sense, then, that his weapon would be one designed to support and provide cover for others. In fact, we see Lance doing exactly this in the first episode when Pidge mouths off and he rushes in to cover for her.

Sadly, as one of the longer-range weapons, Lance’s bayard is also one of the loneliest metaphors in the group, and we see the reason for this just as much in VLD: Lance doesn’t feel appreciated (or sometimes even accepted) by the people around him. He often feels distant, though not by choice. He may shoot (ha) his mouth off a lot, but at the end of the day it’s pretty apparent that this boy craves love and attention, almost as much as he wants to be perceived as a ‘top gun’ (double ha) within the group.

A gun–especially the rapid-fire type that Lance has–further mirrors his tendency to be impulsive (and even impetuous) rather than controlled and thoughtful. On the bright side, though, it is exactly that willingness to pull the trigger that has catapulted the gang forward on a number of occasions.

Shiro

Between Shiro’s arm and his bayard there are so many different things going on here I don’t even know how I can touch on all of them. If I could write an essay on Keith’s weapons, I could write a BOOK on Shiro’s.

First, let’s talk about Shiro’s actual bayard. In Zarkon’s hands, you can read this as a physical extension of Shiro’s freedom, or even as Shiro himself: Zarkon took the bayard–something meant to be used for good–from another world, and then warped it in the hopes of using it to cause destruction. 

The good news is that both Shiro and the bayard escape Zarkon’s clutches because of Voltron, and though Zarkon intended to use them, they instead become the strongest weapons to fight against him. They will always feel the effects of Zarkon’s influence and ownership–the bayard because of Zarkon’s former paladin connections, and Shiro because of his arm and PTSD–but they still fight. In the end, it is Zarkon’s obsession with them as his former ‘possessions’ that becomes his downfall. So deep is his trauma that Shiro actually waits until it looks like they’re about to die (when Voltron is in an electric headlock) to activate his bayard. Why? Because he doesn’t trust his arm, he doesn’t trust his hold on the bayard or the lion (don’t even get me STARTED on how the lion–down it’s right-hand weapon and still somewhat under Zarkon’s control–represents Shiro himself), and as a result he doesn’t trust himself to be stronger than Zarkon. 

Even when Shiro finally gets the bayard back, he doesn’t call it his bayard, or the black bayard; he calls it Zarkon’s bayard (and it looks the part). This can be seen as a mirror for how Shiro sees himself: even though it’s a bayard, Zarkon tainted it, and now it doesn’t belong to him even though it’s rightfully his and he has it in his hands (which, ironically, is still technically Zarkon’s hand… you get the picture).

However, as Keith corrects him (”you’ve got your bayard”), the bayard rejects the changes Zarkon forced upon it, and reverts to a form that matches Shiro and the other paladins (likely how it looked before Zarkon started using it for evil). Just as the paladins healed Shiro by rescuing him and making him part of Voltron, Shiro does the same for the black bayard. Indeed, he only pulls out the power necessary to retrieve the black bayard once he wakes up to find the team fighting to protect him. It might be telling symbolically that Shiro leaves his bayard behind when he goes missing at the end of the season–perhaps he’s won his freedom only to have it taken once again.

 Which leads me to… 

The black bayard could also represent Shiro’s memories: both are known to exist, and we get hints/flashes/teases throughout the show, but both are initially “lost”. Slowly, it is revealed just how both Shiro’s bayard and his memories have been taken/corrupted by Zarkon. We see this in the way Shiro’s memories haunt him, only to frustratingly elude  him when he needs them. When Shiro finally tries to find out more about why Zarkon has the bayard, he’s also facing his own mind–his memories, his insecurities, and his apprehension at what fate awaits him–as well.  In this sense, when Shiro reclaims the black bayard, he is also reclaiming so much more: the hold/fear Zarkon held over him, the insufficiency and anxiety he felt because of it, etc. 

You can also read the bayard as a mirror for Shiro’s arm: Zarkon took Shiro’s arm and replaced it with something Galran. Shiro joins Voltron only to find that Zarkon also has his metaphorical right hand–his weapon. Shiro can’t use the weapon he should be holding (in a hand he doesn’t have because of Zarkon) because Zarkon took it. Talk about a vicious cycle. This symbolism is supported all through season 1 and parts of season 2 where we see Shiro simultaneously struggle with controlling Zarkon’s lasting effects on Voltron and coming to grips (ha) with controlling his arm. It’s hinted–both during battle and through PTSD–that if Shiro doesn’t control his arm, it will control him, just as Zarkon demonstrates that if Shiro can’t reclaim the bayard, Zarkon will use it to kill him (we see a similar parallel with his memories). 

I’m just going to stop here because the black bayard and Shiro’s arm can represent so many different things that it totally distracts me and I can only really do it justice by literally sitting down and writing out a full on dissertation on it.

But TL;DR: Shiro’s arm and his bayard are in a crazy, soap-opera drama with Zarkon on so many different levels and it is symbolistically incredible.

Hunk

Hunk’s bayard, much like Hunk, is pretty straight-forward and simple. Physically, it’s a big weapon. A big, hulking (Hunking????) weapon. It looks incredibly imposing, but its chief function isn’t destruction, but preventing destruction. Just as Hunk likes to avoid violence, his canon is mostly used to disable enemy weapons as part of Voltron, and individually Hunk uses it to provide long-range cover fire for his team (when he tries to use it in a more actively combative role, he just ends up almost shooting Pidge… gg, Hunk). 

Unlike Lance’s more nimble and quick-fire weapon, Hunk’s takes a lot of strength to move around and a long time to power up–this mirrors Hunk’s own well-rooted stance (he’s not easily swayed), and his cautious nature. He doesn’t do things off-the-cuff or on a whim; he thinks them through first. Indeed, it’s almost always Hunk warning the others of the possible outcomes of their proposed escapades. 

He’s also slow to anger, just as his weapon is slow to fire. However, once he has decided to take a shot, his firepower is incredible, just as when he does decide to take action (like with the Balmerans), his will is unstoppable. 

I could go on for days, guys. I have so much stuff I had to cut out because even the hardcorest Voltron fans don’t care about underlying motifs this much, I know, but AGH. GUYS. GUYS. THE BEAUTY??? OF THIS WRITING??? IN A KIDS’ SHOW????? 

Bless.

PS this is long I didn’t proof read it SO SUE ME

anyone else still sometimes catch themselves thinking about how after all those years of idolizing dave strider and after all that time in the void session wondering and anticipating and nervously awaiting this theoretical possibility that he might get the chance to meet him, dirk finally fucking sits down with dave one on one hours from the final battle and like wow fucking surprise motherfucker

he gets to find out his literal worst fears were ACTUALLY true! the version of him that dave knew actually did, in fact, do his level best to ruin dave’s life and was an abusive, toxic influence from day one and throughout to the point where dave can’t even look at him without flinching! 

this coming at a time when dirk is already horrendously low on himself, his relationship with Jake literally just blew up like 3 hours ago and if the AR thing went down even remotely the same way there was also that and holy hell dude what a time to be informed about the existence of Bro Strider. Dirk is sitting there thinking he was a toxic influence to Jake from moment one and probably all of his friends the whole time and here Dave is confirming everything from a parallel perspective? 

you can just see this horrible gut clenching moment when this utterly defeated Dirk just meekly accepts that this other version of himself is reflective of his true innermost self and has justifiably ruined any chance he ever had of impressing or even knowing Dave

– and then you see Dave just immediately lift it off him, even get kinda angry at him for having the audacity to even try accepting it that way, you can FEEL Dave’s fucking confusion because he went in guns blazing expecting a confrontation with someone as impossible and inscrutable as Bro was. Dave went in expecting to punch a brick wall and get nowhere, and instead he got Dirk “you’re absolutely right and I’m so fucking sorry I ruined your life” Strider 

and from Dirk’s pov, listening to this, watching this, having this realization that this dave isn’t an untouchable, aloof, mysterious and mythical heroic figure of legend at all, but that only makes him MORE worthy of idolization in all the ways that genuinely matter – and simultaneously thinking that he’s already sabotaged himself out of the chance to know him at all.

It’s like, god, you know those hyperrealistic nightmares people have sometimes that are so fucking scary because they’re indistinguishable from real life, the ones where after you wake up it takes a long time for the understanding that it was actually just a dream to hit you and then you want to cry with relief? 

For Dirk this had to have been so much like that, the whiplash between being 100% sure that Dave was just going to say what he needed to say and then never speak to him again (and knowing Dirk would have considered it completely justified and never questioned his right to do so jesus christ) followed IMMEDIATELY by Dave just being like no you don’t get it, THIS you, this version of you, what I am looking for deep down in my fucking SOUL is for this you that you are right now to be a person that I can have in my life to tell me that I’m okay, that you’re okay, that WE’RE okay – and after fifteen minutes talking to you I can already immediately tell that you ARE that person. 

Dirk’s friends were always only interested in denying the possibility that Dirk could ever truly become a monster, they could never have possibly understood just how DARK Dirk is at his most self destructive, and that’s part of why their reassurances were always hollow for him – they didn’t GET IT, right, they never could have followed the rabbit hole all the way down, so what did they know? But this guy, Dave Strider, has literally seen Dirk at his worst, has lived through the actual reality of the worst things living inside the full-picture potential of Dirk Strider, has dealt with that to great personal detriment and is fucking STILL sitting here telling him “I can tell that you are different, I can tell that you are better, and I am willing to trust you and help you to become a better person than the guy I knew because at the end of the fucking day, you are too important to me to give up on”

like yeah confronting dirk with all of that was what dave needed absolutely but BEING confronted and ultimately forgiven by dave was what dirk needed too, just as much

in conclusion homestuck is good

Let Me Protect You - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 11,337

Warnings: WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN? 18+, NSFW, Oral (both receiving), Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Daddy Kink, Shower Sex, Wall Sex, Bondage, Mitch’s Scruff, Mitch’s sexy ass arms and muscles and abs and face and MITCH’S ENTIRE BEING

Notes: Holy. Shit. It’s long overdue but THAT WORD COUNT??? I am dying inside from this. I hope you dirty people like this. Please let me know because this literally killed me inside to write. 

Keep reading

Columbine Songs
Eminem
Columbine Songs

Eminem and Columbine


I am an Eminem Fan for years now and when I started to get more and more into True Crime I was surprised to find a lot of his Lyrics mentioning Columbine which I never really realised before. Of course he also mentioned other murderers or events, like Ted Bundy and the Aurora theater shooting but I wanted to start with the Columbine lyrics because there’s a lot of material. So let’s start:


The Way I Am, 2000
0:00-0:16
When a dude’s getting bullied and shoots up his school
And they blame it on Marilyn and the heroin
Where were the parents at? And look where it’s at!
Middle America, now it’s a tragedy
Now it’s so sad to see, an upper-class city
Havin’ this happening

Marshall states that he thinks that he thinks that not music is the reason for the shooting but bullying and the parents. But as we all know Marilyn Manson was partly blamed for Columbine by the media.
Em is also making fun of the fact that Columbine was the first shooting that people cared this much about although there have been a lot of shootings but now it happened at a “nice” school.

There is an alternative version of this song featuring Marilyn Manson (x)
He performed it live with Manson (x and x)
Manson also appeared in the official video (x)

Remember me, 2000
0:17-0:30
Came home and somebody musta broke in the back window
And stole two loaded machine guns and both of my trenchcoats
Sick, sick dreams of picnic scenes
Two kids, sixteen, with M-16’s and ten clips each
And them shits reach through six kids each

Em is making fun of the idea that musicians like him are a bad influence because he is not the one who gives these kids their weapons.

And as we all know, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold both wore a Trenchcoat when the attack started, that’s why „both of my Trenchcoats“ were stolen. And so he thinks that they were stolen to start another Columbine.
And when you have these „two kids“ with guns that, when you shoot them, „reach through six kids each“ you have 12 dead kids. And as we all know, during the Columbine massacre died 12 kids (and one adult).

By the way, Eminem needed two months to write his whole verse on this song while Sticky Fingaz wrote his verse in one day. 


I’m Back, 2000
0:30-0:41
I take seven [kids] from [Columbine]
Stand ‘em all in line, add an AK-47, a revolver, a 9
A MAC-11 and it oughta solve the problem of mine
And that’s a whole school of bullies shot up all at one time

This is probably the most well known Columbine reference made by Eminem.
This album came out one year after the massacre so it was still an sensitive subject. Therefore his label censored these two words (Kids and Columbine), even on the explicit version of the album.
I don’t think I have to explain what exactly this lyric means, it’s pretty clear.
In his book he states this:


“ I was getting shit about the Columbine reference on “I’m Back” and the label was telling me that I wasn’t gonna be able to say it. My whole thing was, what is the big fucking deal? That shit happens all the time. Why is that topic so touchy as opposed to, say a four-year-old kid drowning? Why isn’t that considered a huge tragedy? People die in the city all the time. People get shot, people get stabbed, raped, mugged, killed and all kinds of shit. What the fuck is the big deal with Columbine that makes it separate from any other tragedy in America?”

In 2015 a 15 year-old boy was arrested. He posted these lyrics on Instagram and added “Cause I’m just like shady and just as crazy as the world was over that whole Y2K thing”
The origiginal lyrics are “ ‘Cause (I'mmmm) Shady, they call me as crazy
As the world was over this whole Y2K thing”

When authorities searched the boy’s home they found weaponry and eventually arrested him. He denied any knowledge of the weapons and said he didn’t post this text on Instagram.


White America, 2002
0:42-0:48
White America, I could be one of your kids
White America, little Eric looks just like this

In this song it’s not only about the Lyrics but also about the music video.
With “little Eric” he mentioned Eric Harris but it was also meant as an example for a typical white kid. He is from middle america because his name is in the middle of amERICa.
The interesting part is, as I said, the video. Where you can see news of an school shooting during “I could be one of your kids”
And during “little Eric looks just like this” you can see one of those typical yearbook pictures and the house of the school shooter. The house looks a bit like the one the Harrises had.

When these lines get repeated you can see a boy full of (probably) blood stepping out of the map of america. On his shirt is written “I am Eric”.


Rap God, 2013
0:49-0:54
I’ll take seven kids from Columbine
Put ‘em all in a line, add an AK-47, a revolver and a 9

This was the first time we could hear the Columbine Line uncensored. Eminem didn’t rap all of the “I’m back” lines because he just wanted to
“See if I get away with it now that I ain’t as big as I was”
As you can hear, he got away with it.





Eminem is one of the few people who openly give their sympathy for the two shooters.
He admitted to be interested in serial killers in this statement:
“I did find myself watching a lot of documentaries on serial killers, I mean, I always had a thing for them. I’ve always been intrigued by them and I found that watching movies about killers sparked something in me.The way a serial killer’s mind works, just the psychology of them is pretty fucking crazy. I was definitely inspired by that, but most of the album’s imagery came from my own mind.”

But Marshall Mathers seems to have an very personal realationship with the whole Columbine Issue.
He himself was bullied on a daily basis during his childhood, often for his race and for always being the new kid. When he was nine years old he got beaten up so bad he was in an coma for several days. I think he is one of the people who is trying to understand what Harris and Klebold were going through.
But I think it is important to mention, that he is the living proof that even when your life is is shitty right now because of some people who have nothing in their life but to terrorize you, that you can still have a better life. And you beat them best when you keep on living.

“That Columbine shit is so fucking touchy. As much sympathy as we give the Columbine shootings, nobody ever looked at it from the fuckin’ point of view of the kids who were bullied—I mean, they took their own fucking life! And it was because they were pushed so far to the fucking edge that they were fucking so mad. I’ve been that mad.

-Marshall Mathers

The Front Bottoms song meanings
  • Flashlight: it’s about someone having a hold over you. this is a recurring theme throughout a number of songs on our album. Our favorite line from the song is “I can hear your dog whistle from my bedroom”
  • Maps: This song is pretty self-explanatory. It’s about the idea of not knowing what’s next. Accepting the fact that your life won’t be as comfortable as everyone makes it out to be when you’re younger. It’s about finding out life is a longer road than you had expected. Favorite line: “Let me be a raft on a blue sea I’ll blend right in”
  • Looking Like You Just Woke Up: This was the quickest song we wrote. It happens to also be the shortest on the record. Same idea as from Flashlight - just someone having a hold on you. (One of our good friends fell in love with this girl that still had a boyfriend and so in order to make time with the girl, he hung out a lot with the boyfriend and her. He slowly found out that the girl he thought he loved was kind of a bitch and he found that maybe the one he really loved was her boyfriend. They have somewhat of a romantic relationship now. And they are living together.) The vibe of this song comes from that situation. Favorite Line: “It probably won’t get easier, just easier to hide”
  • Mountain: This song is actually about buying drugs in Pennsylvania. The line was originally “I bought weed. A big bag in Pennsylvania. I’m gonna light it up when I get home to Jersey” We changed it because none of us have bought drugs or smoked ganja. ever. Favorite Line: “They’re gonna ruin my whole summer. Stop taking pictures with your phone. Stop taking pictures with your phone.”
  • Rhode Island: we met a kid at a punk rock festival we played in Rhode Island. He didn’t do much talking and we called him the Zombie Kid because he was passed out in a pile of sticks. The next day when he came out of his coma, he was asking us about directions on the best way to get passed NYC on a bike. His summer plan was to ride from his home in Vermont to Florida. All that he had with him was a backpack full of drugs. No joke. Drugs. Then we shook hands and he went on his way. On that same tour - two months later - one of our last shows were in New York City, and guess who we fucking see? Zombie Kid. Backpack empty. We asked him what happened and he said he made it down to South Carolina and had to turn around and come back. favorite line-“She says you gotta promise not to break not matter how far you are bent, she says you gotta shift my position and try to get comfortable again”
  • The Beers: It’s about the same deal. Someone having a hold over you, so much so that you’d be willing to put yourself in danger, to change yourself in order to make them like you. But the song is all over the place and that’s just a small part of it. Favorite Line: “And it’s an aerial view from your house to my room”
  • Father: I put myself in someone else’s body and I wrote this song about my life.
  • Swimming Pool: The voicemail in the breakdown is from one of our friend’s dads to our friend about some dumb shit about a girl. He saved it and we added it later on to our song. Months later, the girl’s mom cornered me in the grocery store and asked me if we could take that voicemail out of the song. But we’re punk rock so we left it.
  • Favorite Line- “There’s comfort in the bottom of a swimming pool”
  • The Boredom Is The Reason I Started Swimming: I got stranded in Germany one time and I missed Thanksgiving. Side note: On Thanksgiving, I ate a hot dog with some weird potato shit on it in Amsterdam but it was still mad good. As I was walking around Berlin, I found this circus of freaks - it was more or less a sideshow act but it was free so I went in. I met a dude who was a gangster drug dealer, he let me stay at his house and was actually super nice. He cooked me food and went to Amsterdam with me. But while I was staying in his house he explained to me the rules of the streets in Berlin. Everybody pays, everybody’s head is in the noose, everyone is part of the program.
  • Bathtub: There’s so much in this song. Take it for what it’s worth. Favorite line: Please take me off speaker phone, this is a private conversation.
  • Legit Tattoo Gun: This song was originally called “MJ” because when we put it out we gave it two different names on two different websites. If you know this song as “MJ,” you’re way more punk rock. At one point, I was making out with a woman who was making out with a lot of other people. It was a mutually beneficial relationship. Favorite Line: “I am not a dirty god, I don’t have a dirty body”
  • Hooped Earrings: This is about a friend of mine that asked me to be there with her when she came out to her mother. Favorite Line: Curly hair don’t look good cut short.
She’s Just Not That Into You » Part III (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the previous parts? Part One » Part Two

As always, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained. Thank you so much for reading the first two parts!  I hope part three is just as enjoyable for you all.

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by glamour-divine

Although Harry had been disappointed to not receive your personal phone number, he still called “Megan” the next day to set up an appointment to see you. The earliest you can see him for a consulting appointment is in two weeks, and when Megan breaks the news to him, he nearly chokes on his morning tea.

Two weeks?

There wasn’t a logical way to see you sooner. There wasn’t a way to spin it in order for him to pop into your shop, especially considering he still had to sign the final papers to make the house his. How could he explain to you that he hadn’t quite sealed the deal yet, so you’d be decorating a completely hypothetical space? He’d already felt like an idiot in front of you, getting caught snooping around your bookshelves, and he wasn’t too keen on feeling like that around you anytime soon.

So, he waits.

He busies himself with packing up the items he knew he wouldn’t need: small, decorative sculptures, a majority of his books, the picture frames that littered nearly every spare surface of his home, his summer clothing that he knew would be completely unnecessary for at least five more months. Once he gets news that the final papers are ready to sign and the house is his, he cleans every nook and cranny of his current house, figuring it might as well be good to spruce it up for the new owners. He meets old friends for lunch, he takes his mother out for dinner, and he begs his sister to come over for a movie night.

And, of course, he reads. He reads the book you spoke so highly of, immersing himself within the worlds of each character, wondering which one you connected with most. Did you cry at the same parts he did? Did you have the same pit in your stomach that he experienced whenever the subject matter turned particularly dark? He needed to know what happened next, reading late into the night, promising himself he would go to bed after he finished the page he was on, but knowing he wouldn’t stop until he could no longer open his eyes.

The two weeks pass, but they feel more like a month and a half than they do a fortnight.

When the day of the meeting comes around, he peeks into the storefront, smiling at your name on the door. He meanders around your shop after checking in with Megan. She nods when he states his presence - a meek little thing with big brown eyes and a nervous giggle - and notifies you that “Mr. Styles is here,” via the bulky black telephone on her desk. He can feel the girl’s eyes on him as he walks around, recognizing some of the pieces from your website.

“Hi!” your voice echoes from behind him, your heels clicking against the concrete floor.

Harry turns around, fully expecting a normal salutation to escape his lips, but instead, his voice catches in his throat. You’re wholly professional, the version of yourself he saw in the magazine shoots. Cropped black pants with pointed-toe heels, a blazer rolled up to your elbows.

You look like you run the place - which, of course you do.

“How are you?” you ask before kissing his cheek and bringing him in for a hug.

That’s a bit better, he thinks to himself, remembering how previously, you’d greeted Nick more lovingly than you had Harry.

“Good, good,” he takes a step back from you, hoping your perfume had transferred onto him so he could smell you on him later - so he could pretend that reality wasn’t against him and that your scent was stuck to him for reasons other than a professional greeting. “Yourself?”

“Excited!” you clap your hands together. “Before we go back, let’s walk around a bit so you can get a sense of where I’m coming from, design-wise.”

He nods, pretending not to have already extensively researched “where you’re coming from,” and follows you until you stop in front of the mock room setups, pointing out some of your favorite pieces.

“Marble is really in,” you explain, tapping a stone coffee table. “But I try not to overdo it. If you like the look of marble - if you like this exact table, even - this would be the only marble piece I’d choose for whatever room.”

Taking his chin between his thumb and forefinger, Harry nods, inspecting the table and picturing it in his new living room. He likes it. Come to think of it, he liked everything. And it wasn’t just to appease you - there was no reason to like a chair just because you liked it - but he could envision nearly every piece in his new home.

“Just got these lamps in,” you turn one on. “I’m obsessed with them. Might snag them for myself,” you smile, clicking the remaining lamp on.

“How often does that ‘appen?” Harry smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“More often than it should,” you laugh. “I’m on this kick of deep greens, navy blue, and gold. Realize it’s not everyone’s cuppa tea, but if you see anything you like, there will almost always be different colors available,” you fluff a throw pillow, adjusting its position next to another.

Harry nods, imagining what his new place would look like decorated with a darker color scheme. He’d never been one for bold rooms - white was his go-to, with him being more concerned about how comfortable the furniture was instead of the color of the walls. You’d done Nick’s living room in bold, dark colors, and Harry loved it. It was his home, he’d told Harry. It wasn’t just a place he stayed and passed the time until he found somewhere else to live. It somehow felt right, even in the summertime, which Harry had initially worried about after seeing it for the first time. The home had Nick Grimshaw written all over it, and Harry was envious of how easily his best friend’s personality was packaged within every room.

He’d wanted that for himself, and you would be the one to give that to him.

He relishes in watching you work the room. You’re completely in your element, answering a couple of questions from Megan when the girl timidly approaches, letting her know that she was free to take lunch just as soon as your meeting with Harry wrapped up. You thank a middle-aged man for his order when he stops in to retrieve a rug, running to hold the door open for him as he heaves the rolled-up carpet over his shoulder. You make a joke with him as he leaves, winking at him with a smile and a wave of your hand.

Were you always this beautiful, or had Harry neglected to see how effortless your charm was?

No, that couldn’t have been the case. He’d noticed right from the second he laid eyes on you that you were something special; something different.

You lead him to the back of the expansive store, asking him questions about his current living space, wondering what pieces of furniture he wanted to keep and which he wanted to ditch.

“Oh my gosh!” you stop abruptly in the doorway to your office, clutching Harry’s shoulder as your eyes widen. “I didn’t even ask you if you wanted anything to drink! Water, coffee, tea?” you shuffle to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, opening it and then closing it again. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I jump the gun sometimes. Get excited over the idea of a new space to transform and all that,” you laugh, rolling your eyes at yourself.

“Water would be great, thanks,” Harry smiles. He tries not to touch a hand to where you’d touched his shoulder, but he was worried you’d burned a hole through his shirt, what with how hot the area felt to him now.

He notices the familiar smell when he walks into your office, nodding his head when he sees that you’ve got yet another Diptyque candle burning on top of a filing cabinet - he can tell it’s pomegranate without even reading the label. He inspects the decor, loving the juxtaposition of clean lines set against rustic elements which make the room feel comforting and clean.

You pull out a chair with brightly colored fabric across the cushions, offering it to Harry before placing a bottle of water in front of him and walking to the opposite side of your desk.

“Okay,” you wake your computer up, scooting your chair closer to the screen. “I normally take clients through my portfolio so they can see the spaces I’ve completed, before and after I’ve gotten my hands on them.” You adjust the large monitor so Harry can view the screen as well. “Does that sound alright?”

“Of course,” he rubs his hands on his knees. “Whatever you normally do.”

You click on a file, asking Harry if he could see the screen properly. You show him your bigger projects - cafes and restaurants, along with office buildings - as well as clients who had hired you to renovate their houses. You mention how you tend to be inspired by patterns and colors, along with custom fabric you use to reupholster vintage, antique furniture.

“Do you reupholster them yourself?” he asks.

“The smaller pieces, yeah,” you nod, taking a sip from the cup of tea in front of you. “Like that chair you’re sitting on. I usually spend my free time refurbishing the pieces I find. I’ve done chairs, side tables, desks - all that,” you go on, clicking open a picture of one of your completed pieces. “Stopped doing the big stuff when my schedule got busier. Now, I work with a father-and-son team and they do the couches and loveseats,” you click again, a picture of you and two men sitting on a couch in what seems to be a workshop. “There we are,” you chuckle, quickly moving on to the next picture.

Harry knows that he can’t ask you to go back - what would you think of him if he’d insisted upon you showing him the picture again, just so he could see the way your legs crossed one over the other at the knee; how you smiled so easily, your eyes bright and your arms wrapped around the shoulders of both men. You were happy - genuinely happy - and it was a look you wore well.

“So which pieces from your current place do you want to keep?” you ask, meeting Harry’s eyes when he looks up from his lap. “If any…”

“Thinkin’ maybe,” he pulls at his bottom lip. “I’d wanna start fresh? To keep consistent?”

“Perfect,” you nod, minimizing your portfolio and bringing up a calendar. “Okay then,” you begin, moving the monitor back to its original position. “I’ll need to see your new place before I do any work-ups for you. Is there a time this week I can come and see the space?”

Harry’s heart jumps at the thought, even though your intent is purely professional.

You’d said the words, though.

You wanted to come over to his house. To his place. To his home.

“All I ‘ave is time,” he smiles. “So whatever works for you.”

Two days later, Harry finds himself waiting for you at his new property, the wintery London rain keeping him indoors as he paces back and forth in front of the large window overlooking the drive. It was just like London to rain on such a day - a day that should’ve been filled with bright sun to match the occasion - but he was used to the drizzle, no matter how much he didn’t agree with it.

His phone rings, the vibration in his back pocket causing him to jump. An unknown number flashes on the screen, and when he picks up, he’s surprised to hear your voice on the other line.

“So sorry, Harry!” your plea causes him to smile. You sound different on the phone - your voice is less smooth, but he lets the sound of it was over him, regardless. “I promise I haven’t stood you up! My shoot on the other end of town ran long, but I swear ‘m on my way! The GPS says ten minutes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles. “I’ll be here. Drive safe, alright?”

You say you will and apologize again before hanging up. He grins as he looks out the window, biting his lower lip and furthering the dimples in his cheeks.

You’ve got his number saved in your phone.

He’s got your number now.

Whether it was your business phone or your personal phone didn’t matter. He had a direct line to you, and you to him. Knowing that he’d most likely never use it for reasons other than strictly professional, he felt nearly giddy as he saved your number, creating a new contact for you.

When you arrive, he’s surprised to see that it’s in a van with your logo on the side. Why - based on everything he knows about you thus far - is that the thing to make him hard? And why does his stomach flip so dramatically when he sees you step out of the driver’s seat, dressed in a worn-in flannel and jeans with paint splatters on them? You shuffle quickly over to the passenger’s side, shielding your eyes from the rain. When you emerge into sight again, you’ve got your arms full of materials like folders, tape measures, and a ruler. You laugh as you run up to the front door, shielding your papers beneath your plaid shirt.

How was Harry supposed to make it through the afternoon without a full-on stiffy with you looking like that?

“Hi,” he smiles when he opens the door, the security system beeping throughout the empty house.

“Hi!” you jump into the foyer, trying to catch your breath. “I’m so sorry - I hate being late!”

“Not a problem,” Harry assures you, noticing the pencil tucked behind your ear.

“And I’m sorry for looking suck a mess,” you peel your boots off with one hand, clutching your supplies close to your chest with the other. “Just set up a shoot and didn’t want to be even later in the name of looking presentable.”

Harry looks down at his hoodie and torn jeans, his hair flopping down onto his forehead, “Look more presentable than I do,” he chuckles.

You scoff, placing your boots neatly together, just as Harry did at your flat. He smiles at the unnecessary gesture, appreciative that you didn’t even bother ask whether or not he’d prefer you take your shoes off. Not that he’d have a problem either way - you could traipse mud and leaves all over his new home and he’d thank you for it.

“‘ve got the measurements and whatnot,” he explains as the two of you walk into the kitchen. “The original contractor has the blueprints and sent them over so we’d ‘ave ‘em.”

“Great,” you nod, inspecting the cabinetry from afar. “Think today’ll just be me scoping out the rooms, taking some measurements just to double-check,” you run your hands through your hair after setting down your armful of materials onto the counter. “Not that I don’t trust the contractor’s numbers. I’ve got my own system, though. Years of doing this makes me a creature of habit,” you smirk, flipping open a folder labeled STYLES, H. in bold letters. His heart jumps, thinking that you could’ve been the one to write it. “Wanna help me measure?”

“Of course,” he nods - maybe a bit too eagerly - as you reach for your tape measure and clip it onto the back pocket of your jeans.

The two of you walk through the empty house in your socked feet, Harry remaining quiet until you say something. You inspect each room, writing down how many windows are in each, commenting on where some crown molding will need to be replaced, recommending that the carpet be taken up and replaced with real hardwood to give it a more modern feel.

“Which colors are we thinking so far?” you inquire, unclipping the tape measure. Pulling out the free edge, you hand it to Harry, your fingertips touching his while you cock your head to the other side of the room with a smile. He’s frozen for a moment, willing you to reach out and grace your hand over his once more, but he’s snapped out of it by you walking away from him. He follows your lead, walking to the opposite wall from the one you’re standing against, holding the bulky measure down against the floorboard.

“Like the thought of a dark blue for this room,” he looks around, squatting on one knee when he reaches the wall. “Cozy livin’ room ‘n all that.”

“Good, good,” you grin. “Don’t want you to be swayed by my own likes and dislikes, but I promise you it’ll look good.” You make a quick chart with the ruler you’ve brought on the inside flap of the manila folder, muttering something about always needing to have straight lines, no matter if it was written in on an official document or the inside of a folder. It makes Harry smile, the admission of your quirk. “And if not, we can always change it. Paint is easy to change.”

“Don’t think’ll want t’ change it,” Harry assures, walking slowly backwards with the free end of the tape between his fingertips, crouching down once you’ve met him to measure the width of the room. “Whatever you’ve shown me so far, I’ve loved.”

You peek up through the hair that’s fallen down into your eyes as you scribble more numbers onto the folder, smiling at him in a way he forces himself to remember. His heart pounds in his chest - so much so that he hopes you can’t hear it - and he finds it difficult to swallow the lump that’s housed in his throat.

You work easily together as walk through each room, speaking vaguely about the initial ideas both of you had for the house. You don’t try to sell Harry on one idea or another - you offer a suggestion and if he doesn’t like it, you offer another until he’s comfortable. He feels relaxed, especially once you assure him that nothing is set in stone and that your feelings won’t be hurt if he doesn’t like something you suggest. This is his home, you remind him. It’s all up to him.

“What was the shoot about?” Harry asks as you measure the windows in what will eventually be his bedroom.

“Uneven decorating. Odd numbers look better,” you explain, sniffling slightly. “Always want to have one, three, or five of something, unless it’s like a side table or lamps. But anything on a wall - like framed art or pictures - and table decorations like figurines or candles look best when there’s an odd number of them.”

“You allowed to tell me which publication?” he smirks slyly, leaning up against the wall.

You twist your mouth, trying to conceal a smile. You think on it for a second, tucking your pencil back behind your ear. “Promise not to tell?” you reach out with your pinky, a pseudo-stern look on your face.

“Promise,” Harry links his pinky with yours, trying to conceal his smile by keeping his lips pressed tightly together. How could he say no to a pinky-promise imposed by a gorgeous woman? There were laws against it, he thinks.

“I’m serious!” you scoff, dropping your hand to your side. “I’ll know it was you if you say anything. If you even mention it to anyone - especially Nicholas Grimshaw - I’ll never speak to you again.”

He clears his throat, rubbing his nose twice. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to wear the same stern look you’re sporting. When he opens his eyes, you’re still staring at him intently.

“Swear,” he nods.

“And then you’ve gone and broken a pinky promise, too. Which in my books…” you raise your eyebrows and shake your head with a twitch of your pointer finger in front of you. “It’s HGTV Magazine. From the US.”

“That’s like a major TV channel there, innit?”

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, your eyes widening at the thought. “Now they’ve got magazines. And paint. And furniture. And decor. ‘ve got the market cornered over there. Huge, huge company. Like…massive.”

“And you’ve never been featured in the States, ‘ave you?”

“No,” you nearly whisper.

“That’s a big fuckin’ deal, then!”

“Guess so,” you chuckle, running your hands through your hair. “Thanks for that.”

“Absolutely,” Harry laughs, knocking your shoulder with his knuckles. “Congratulations. It really is a huge deal.”

He knew you were successful, but hearing about how you set up the studio to look like a living room today and would be going back tomorrow in order to get your portrait taken in the room makes him realize just how successful you are. A four-page spread, including an interview on how you’d taken London by storm and your influences would be seen within the American market soon. Their words, not yours, you assured Harry.

As the two of you walk through the rooms on the second floor, he asks how you started within the industry. You explain to him that you went to school to be a financial advisor and specialized in small business accounts. You were a pencil-pusher, you told Harry, and you were stuck in an office all day long. You’d spend your weekends refurbishing antique furniture, finding that you’d had a knack for it. It made you happy - so happy that it was the only thing that got you through the monotony of your work week. Although you loved your clients and always enjoyed the pride that came with their wins, you weren’t especially happy in your job. Something had to change.

After agreeing that all of the light fixtures upstairs would have to be replaced, you went on to talk about how even though you saw how much stress your clients were under running their own businesses, you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to begin your own business.

“Put my life savings into my first shop,” you flick off the hallway bathroom’s light. “I was eating Ramen nearly every night. Went without electricity in my apartment for a week because I didn’t ‘ave enough money to pay for lights at the store and lights at home,” you laugh. “Feels like such a long time ago…”

You started out selling furniture and other decor items. It was tough, but little by little, you made progress. Eventually, one of your regular customers asked if you were interested in working with her as an interior design consultant for her company. It helped get your name out, and soon you were redesigning spaces for people you could’ve never imagined.

Harry admires how smart and brave you are - he can understand how scary it is to go it alone without knowing the results. He was going through it right now. He was in a more privileged position, sure, but he was still unsure of what the future held, and he could appreciate how much courage it took to start over. It made him look at you in a different light - a light that allowed him to see the struggle you’d gone through, working you way from nothing to one of the best in your field. He’d envied the confidence that you sported when it came to your work and wondered if he, himself, would ever feel that.

Once you’re finished taking down all of the information you need, you follow Harry back downstairs.

“Still raining,” you frown, gathering all of your materials. “Does wonders for the hair.” You pretend to flip it over your shoulders. The natural state of it brought out by the weather makes Harry want you all the more.

“Ye’ look great.”

You tut, rolling your eyes a bit, but thank him nonetheless. “So, ‘ve got to take off,” you state, your body language pulling you back to the foyer. “But I really am so excited to get started on the mockups,” you hop a little. “It’s a beautiful space and we can start from scratch, which is when I have most of my fun.”

“‘m excited too,” Harry smiles.

“‘ll have Megan call you when I’m done with the renderings,” you slip your boots back on. “Should take no longer than a week. So count on next Thursday?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “And congratulations again on the magazine - really is a big deal.”

You tilt your head to the side, all of your features softening. “Thank you, Harry,” you smile coyly. You squeeze him a bit as you hug goodbye, the materials in your arms pressed between the two of you creating a barrier that Harry would rather be without. “I had fun today.”

“I did, too.”

He watches you run to your work van, leaping over a particularly large puddle. He laughs to himself as you struggle with your keys before unlocking the driver’s door, diving into the vehicle with a sigh that he can’t see. He watches as you push your mussed-up hair back, noticing him standing in the front window. You wave with a knowing smile before turning on the engine and backing out of the drive.

It’s that smile - that sly smirk - that pushes Harry over the edge that night.

He didn’t want to touch himself, but he’d been rock hard ever since he saw how beautiful your ass looked in your paint-splattered work jeans as you ran to the car. He didn’t want to defile you in his mind as he stroked himself in the shower, water running down his shoulders and back as he faced away from the spray. He didn’t want to moan your name as his balls tightened, the images of you naked and begging for him littering his mind to the point of no return.

But, he did.

He had to.

Nobody would know - it would be his secret - but if he didn’t jack off to the thought of you, he was sure he’d lose his damn mind.

He pictures you sporting the same upturn of your lips from earlier as you ride him, your flannel from that day still on, yet unbuttoned to reveal your breasts as you grind down against him. You know what you do to him, and your smile tells all. He imagines how beautiful you’d sound as he gripped your hips, slowing your movements to nearly a stop while he pushes up into you, groaning at the gasp you give him in return.

He’d never wanted to be inside someone as much as he wanted to be inside you. He wants to feel your breath against his ear, his name across your lips, your fingertips gripping his shoulders. He wants to know what you taste like - sweet, probably, like the candles you burn. He wants to know how warm you are; how wet he can make you by just the touch of his lips to yours. He wants to hear your moan - feel it vibrate down his cock while he’s in your mouth, that gorgeous pout of yours wrapped around the head of him.

He wants it all, but he can’t have it, so his hand will have to do.

A part of him feels guilty when he cums on the shower wall, his splotchy vision and ringing ears indicating that he gave in too quickly. But, fuck. What was a man supposed to do? You’d smelled so good; your stories never bored him; you were becoming a global success and you’d accepted to work with him.

And your ass? In those jeans?

He was done before he ever began, as far as that was concerned.

He walks out of the shower on shaky legs, a white bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he takes his head in his hands and grunts.

“Fuck’r you on, Styles?” he asks himself.

He leans back onto the covers, his feet dangling off the edge of his bed that he’ll soon replace with another one, based upon your recommendation. He falls asleep that way - sleeps deeply, too, his hair wet and his towel coming undone after he shifts slightly in his slumber. It’s a deep sleep, one that doesn’t produce a memory of a dream, and Harry is thankful for that.

He doesn’t think he could take another night of dreaming of you.

Not if he wasn’t able to turn those dreams into a reality so that his mind could stop wandering day in and day out…

Not if he wasn’t able to get what he wanted…

Not if, he knows, he wasn’t able to make you his.

The Boss’ son

Will hated his boss with a passion. He was a jumped-up know-it-all who sent everyone out to work for rip-off prices and tried every method he could to cut corners. Will had been working for the company since he was 18 and had garnered a reputation for himself as a hard worker and a highly skilled construction man over the last 11 years. He now managed a team of men who both respected and liked him. But one year the company was sold to Terrance, the new boss and things had started to slide very quickly.

One morning, Terrance announced that he would be introducing his 21 year old son into the world of business starting from the very bottom by working with Will and his men for the next few months before moving up to bigger and better things. Terrance had no idea how to sugar coat things.

Kyle was a tall and lanky young guy with a long trendy hairstyle that did not look right with the construction worker clothes he was parading around in. Will hated him instantly. He had a surly look on his face and looked like he’d never be strong enough to do the sort of work the other men had to do on a daily basis. It also made Wills blood boil with anger that his friend Gary had been fired last week to cut costs; clearly just an exercise to make way for Kyle.

Kyle was just as useless as Will had expected. He was lazy, weak and had a superior attitude to everyone else. Will tried to be nice. He was looking around at other companies for work, but he still had a mortgage to pay on his own, so he couldn’t risk upsetting the boss too much.

Will was a strapping guy. He was 6′2 and bigger than any of the other men in his team. He’d been in construction work for 12 years and spent his leisure time in the gym building more muscle. He liked to keep his men well fed to improve morale and he usually found that the guys would grow stronger and more bulky after some time working with him. It all helped to make his team the best performing in the company.

Will was sure to be nice to Kyle, but he didn’t mind when the other guys played pranks on him or called him names like ‘whippet’ to denote his scrawny physique.

Kyle was not keen on hard work. He’d pick the least energy consuming job he could and was awful with any other jobs he was given. In the end, Will settled for a quiet life, giving Kyle the simplest job he could find. Something he couldn’t fuck up. Kyle was clearly just counting down the days until he could move up the company ladder and on to bigger and better things. Maybe the guys who were mean to him were forgetting that Kyle would be their boss one day.

The meaningless jobs grew more and more meaningless. Kyle was useless. Will would often leave him in charge to guard the tools if they were in a bad neighbourhood and enjoyed the time with his other men instead. It made Will angry that he’d lost a competent worker to pay for useless Kyle to be here.

However, Kyle would happily tuck in to all the food with the guys. For a guy who barely did any work, he sure built up an appetite. Will would find himself sending Kyle off to collect food for the guys and see an extra bag of food Kyle had bought for himself. Like Will, a lot of the guys on Will’s team were in to body building and so they ate frequently throughout the day to keep their muscles fed. Kyle seemed to think this was just a regular thing for working men and tucked in to his grub alongside them.

It wasn’t long before the results started to show. Kyle’s ass started to develop some shape and he had the beginnings of a little double chin. His nipples started to show under his t shirt and he filled out his uniform a little better than he had before. Unlike the men who usually worked under Will, none of the extra weight was muscle.

The guys picked up on it straight away. ‘Terrance’s boy is looking a bit fatter isn’t he? one laughed. ‘Ha, yeah, I’m not surprised though, he eats like a fucking pig and doesn’t do any work’, commented another.

‘Guys’, said Will. ‘Just leave him be. He’ll be out of our hair in a few months and he can get as fat as he wants. We’re just keeping Terrance sweet. In fact…’ Will stopped, suddenly allowing his evil streak to shine through, ‘we should just take advantage of it. Nothing will show Terrance what a lazy bastard his son is than having him gain a few lbs’.

The guys laughed and looked across at Kyle who was sat by a bucket cleaning tools across the site. ‘I say, let the guy eat’, smiled Will. ‘What do you say guys?’

Over the next few weeks, Will made sure his men stopped for plenty for food during work time. Kyle greedily ate at every stop. The guys sniggered to each other as they watched Kyle tuck in. They’d leave some of their food or offer it to Kyle, grinning at each other as he accepted every time.

The results were almost instant. Kyle’s ass started to develop some width to it. His stomach looked like it was getting doughy underneath his shirt and his face was softening up well. The guys even conspired to have Kyle change a load of lightbulbs across the site so that they could see his exposed gut as he lifted his arms in the air; sneakily taking pictures with their phones. Not only did Kyle have a soft little belly, but two chunky love handles were starting to bloom as well. The guys were in hysterics talking about it all.

As Kyles work pants started to get tight, Will made an effort to get him new ones. ‘Look at those biceps!’ he said, walking by Kyle one morning. ‘You can tell you’re a construction worker now. You’re really starting to pack on some muscle like me and the boys. I think you’ll need a larger size outfit for these guns. Here’s a medium. Well done man!’

Kyle grinned to himself and smiled like he genuinely thought he was one of the boys. The guys were a bit annoyed at Will when they could no laugh at him struggling to do up his pants after going to the toilet. However, Will was just trying to stop him realising how fat he was getting and going on a diet. He told the guys about what he had said about Kyle’s biceps and advised the guys to do the same. Now that Kyle was seriously chunking up, they had to do all they could to stop him going on a diet.

By the time the six months was up, Kyle had gained at least 40bs of fat. He had a chubby little ass and a belly that was actually starting to round out into a proper gut. The guys had been called in for a full team briefing. Will expected that this was where they would be told that Kyle was getting his promotion. In reality, the future looked much more bleak.

Terrance wanted to take the company in a different direction. Rather than taking on extensive projects, the company would instead focus on smaller scale work and split up into smaller teams. Will would no longer be working with the team he had grown so fond of over the years. He watched as his team was split before his eyes, leaving only him in the middle of the room. Was he about to be fired?

‘And what about me?’ he asked Terrance, hatefully.

Terrance looked at him as if he was the stupidest guy he’d ever met. ‘You’ve got Kyle of course’.

Kyle was taking a sick day, something he liked to do at least once a fortnight. Will clearly failed to hide the frustration in his face.

‘Hey’, bellowed Terrance. ‘I chose you because I know he’ll learn a lot from working with you one-to-one, so don’t give me attitude. I also want you to shape him up a bit. That kid has grown pretty fucking fat working with your boys over there.’

Oh, you think he’s fat do you? thought Will. Ha! He’d show Terrance. Will was going to make sure Kyle was the softest, plumpest construction worker Terrance had ever seen. I’m going to really fatten up the lazy fucker he thought to himself, determined. What Will didn’t expect was the slight boner he had in his pants as he thought about taking control of Kyle’s body so consciously at the front of his mind.

‘Hey buddy!’ he greeted Kyle warmly the next day. ‘It’s you and me. Isn’t that great?’

‘Yeah, I guess so’, said Kyle sounding like he wasn’t bothered.

‘I’m hungry, let’s head for some breakfast.’

‘Yeah, I’m up for that’, said a work-shy Kyle.

Will made sure to eat plenty in front of Kyle and then burned it off taking on the extra work whilst he found the most menial job for Kyle that would stop him burning off the calories. Will also punished himself each night in the gym and found that the extra calories and workouts made him look more pumped than ever. Kyle would always out eat him anyway. It was the one thing he was actually good at. And so it was that Kyle grew steadily softer as Will grew larger and more ripped than he had ever been in his life.

It was around this time that Will started to realise that Kyle was developing a crush on him. He sometimes caught him starting at him when he had his shirt off and would always go red faced and shy when Will asked him about girls. Will didn’t mind and quickly realised that he could use it to his advantage.

‘Damn you’re strong now Kyle. I can’t get over how you lifted that bag of cement like it was nothing. Must be those big strong thighs of yours huh?’ Kyle swallowed it all, thinking he was more hunk than chunk. Will would always comment on his manly appetite and say how good he was at eating, like it was a competition.

Kyles small belly started to roll over his pants. His nipples bloomed into round, juicy moobs and his ass widened further. Will really enjoyed the effect he was having on him and his cock started to swell with pride with the increasing dominance he had over Kyle’s body.

‘What do you want to eat this morning?’ asked Will.

’Nothing, I’m not hungry’, said Kyle in a sulky voice. This was clearly the day Will had been dreading.

’What’s the matter man? That’s not like you.’

‘My dad told me I was turning into a fat ass. Had a huge go at me last night.’

Yes, you are turning in to a fat ass thought Will to himself, feeling the thrill of him having annoyed Terrance by making his son into a fat little porker.

‘You’re dads a dick’, said Will bluntly. ‘He has no idea about construction work’. Will pointed to a guy across the street who was skinny and underfed looking. ‘See that guy over there? That’s what you used to look like when you came to work for us. Does he look like he can carry a bag of cement like you can?’

‘No’, said Kyle, quietly.

‘No way. You need to be big and muscular to do our type of work. Big men, with big appetites, like us. So if you think you’re going to diet and go back to looking like that scrawny little shit over there, you might as well resign now. I’d rather have my partner who can down 5 cheeseburgers, like you did the other day’, nodded Will like he was still genuinely impressed by Kyle masculinity. ‘So what do you say buddy?’

‘Yeah, I guess so. I think you’re right. My dads an ass. He’s never worked in construction in the way we have.’

‘Yeah, that’s more like it’, cheered Will. ‘Fuck him!’

‘Fuck him!’ repeated Kyle.

‘Ata boy’, smiled Will, slapping Kyle’s belly and taking the wheel. ‘So where are we going for breakfast?’

Kyle never mentioned dieting again. Will felt himself getting hard as he imagined Kyle going home each day just a little fatter than the last. His dad forced to watch as his son slowly turned in to a fat pig with absolutely no control over what Will was doing to him.

Will became more flirty with Kyle. He constantly complemented him on his big shoulders, wide chest and thick thighs. Kyle took it all in, not realising that Will was actually complementing him on how damn soft and fat he was growing. He’d take his shirt off at any opportunity he could and took pleasure in Kyle trying to avoid being caught watching him. He also encouraged Kyle to take his shirt off and always chose something to complement him on when he did so: ‘Look at those guns big guy’; or ‘No one’s going to mess with you big man.’

Kyle had a proper belly on him now. It swelled over his pants and provided a shelf for his moobs to sit on. The contrast between Will’s hard body and Kyle’s soft flab made Will so damn horny it was hard to keep his hands from grabbing a roll of Kyle’s fat as he sat next to him each day in the van.

‘See that guy over there’, pointed Will one day whilst they were parked up tucking in to a mountain of fast food. ‘I’m not gay, but I could totally get a man crush on him. What do you think?’

‘Um, yeah’, said Kyle, somewhat caught off guard.

‘He’s got the big arms and shoulders, like you I suppose. But…nah, actually. If I was going to give up fucking girls for a guy, he’d have to be a bit burlier than that. I couldn’t hack being with someone who couldn’t eat like we can. You know what I mean?’

Kyle was stunned into silence.

‘Ha! Relax man, I’m sure even you’ve had a man crush in your time! Its all good’, he laughed as he patted Kyle on his fat thighs and watched as Kyle had to adjust himself to avoid showing a semi he was probably getting at that very moment.

Will played up to Kyles crush more and more over the coming weeks; patting his ass playfully and holding eye contact just that little bit too long. Kyle seemed to respond by showing off just how bulky and manly he was by eating more than ever before.

‘Fuck Will! What have you done to Kyle?’ whispered the guys from Will’s old team as they met up for a staff briefing a couple of months later. ‘He’s fucking huge!’

‘I know’, grinned Will, ‘I’ve turned him into a fucking pig. You should see how much I’ve got him eating in a day now. Poor fatty has to wear XL’, he laughed, feeling his cock stiffening.

The guys were stunned by the transformation, staring at Kyle from across the room.

‘It’s pure lard as well’, said Will, enjoying the opportunity to speak out loud about what he had been doing to Kyle over the last 9 months. ‘There’s a fucking huge gut under that shirt!’

The guys patted him on the back and sat back in their chairs to marvel some more.

Terrance came out and announced that the company’s previous redirection into smaller scale projects was working out less profitable than he had expected. Big surprise there, thought Will. As such he would be reforming the old teams to take on larger work from next week. Will was overjoyed. His old team back!

‘And, I’m pleased to announce that my son Kyle will be moving up the company to work as part of my junior staff. I’m sure we can all congratulate him on his hard work over the last 15 months.’

There was a half-hearted clap from the crowd, but Will suddenly realised that he was actually going to miss Kyle more than he ever thought he would. He was too stunned to clap. After tomorrow, Kyle would no longer be with him every day.

Will made sure their last day was extra fattening. Kyle ate every meal like it was his last and Will felt a deep dread in his stomach that he would never get to enjoy watching the fatty pig out any more.

‘Hey, since you’re getting this promotion, why not come over to mine to celebrate tonight? Have a few beers with me?’

‘Sure!’ spat, Kyle with too much enthusiasm. ‘I’d love to!’

The day was over pretty fast and before Will knew it, Kyle was at his door ready to celebrate his promotion.

Will was already shirtless and wearing tight little shorts so that Kyle could see more of his body than ever before. He took Kyle straight into the back yard where he had a barbecue going. Will had no neighbours so it was a nice private space to be in.

‘Smells great’, said Kyle, his mouth already watering. ‘I didn’t know we were doing food.’

‘Ha, come on, its us, of course were doing food. You don’t get big and bulky like us without enjoying your food right? Take your shirt off man, it’s roasting this evening.’

Kyle obeyed and sat himself in a chair with a cool beer in his hand.

Will watched as Kyle ate and ate. He was sure to wear his sunglasses so that Kyle could not see him checking out his round, spherical gut as he spoke to him the whole evening, growing hornier and hornier.

‘So have you thought about your man crush yet?’ asked Will as the conversation about the best beers started to dry out.

’Ha’, laughed Kyle nervously. ‘I guess, I have’. He was on his fifth beer and feeling more than a little confident. ‘I guess he would have to be a guy like you. You know, muscly and strong looking. Nice face, a bit macho.’

Will pretended to be more drunk than he was and laughed without a care in the world as he said casually, ‘Fuck man, don’t say that, you’re giving me a semi here, look!’ And he spread his legs.

Kyle took the bait. ‘I mean it though’, he pressed. ‘I’d do anything to be with a guy like you.’

Kyle had played his hand too early and all of the power now lay in Will’s hands.

‘Anything huh?’ he said standing up and moving to stand over Kyle, who looked up almost concerned about how Will was going to react. ‘Stand up for me.’

Kyle did as he was told without question, standing there as Will slowly began to circle him.

‘Well, you’ve got a cute ass on you’, whispered Will into Kyle’s ear, grabbing a handful of soft flesh. ‘Take your shorts off so I can see it properly.’

Kyle obeyed, taking off his shorts like it was the most natural thing in the world. Will pulled at the waistband of Kyle’s underwear and peered down at his naked ass, all soft and round.

‘Mmm, yeah that’s one cute ass you’ve been hiding from me.’

He continued to circle Kyle.

‘And I know you have a nice manly appetite, so that’s one thing checked off my man crush list. A nice thick chest’, he continued, stroking Kyle’s fat moob. ‘But, oh dear, what’s this?’ he asked moving his hand down to lightly stroke Kyles fat gut.

‘What’s this?’ repeated Will more loudly as he stared through his sunglasses into Kyles submissive eyes.

‘It’s…it’s my belly’, said Kyle, unsure of the correct answer.

‘Yes, it is’, said Will harshly, grabbing a roll and jiggling it. ‘This…’ he continued. ‘This belly is not quite what I’m after.’

‘You want me to lose weight?’ asked Kyle, red faced.

‘No, I don’t’ said Will, pressing his abs into Kyle as he leaned in closer. ‘If I’m going to stop fucking girls to screw a guy, he’s going to have to have a belly that’s much, much bigger than this.’

He moved back slightly and looked at Kyle square in face. ‘And when I say bigger Kyle, I mean fatter, much, much fatter’. He slid his hand down under Kyle’s belly to grab Kyle’s hard cock, starting to stroke it up and down. Kyle melted instantly.

‘You think you could do that for me Kyle?’

Kyle nodded as he closed his eyes to enjoy the pleasure of being touched by Will.

‘You think you could grow a big fat belly for me Kyle?’

‘Yes’, he breathed. ‘I’d do anything for you.’

‘Good. Because…’ said Will, taking Kyle’s hand and placing it a foot in front of his gut, ‘…I want your fat belly to come out to here. You understand that Kyle?’

‘Yes, anything’, breathed Kyle.

Will pushed him harshly back into his chair. Will once again towering over him, he pulled his shorts and underwear down, revealing his hard cock before moving his groin in closer to Kyle’s face for him to suck him off.

‘Open wide, fat boy’, demanded Will, shoving his cock into Kyle’s mouth which he greedily took.

‘Plenty more of this to come when you grow that belly fatter for me Kyle.’

‘Mmm’, moaned Kyle as he tugged himself off with Will’s penis in his mouth.

‘I want to see you eat and swell up and grow…fatter and…fatter and…’.

Will exploded into Kyles mouth, making Kyle do the same.

Will stood there for a short while before pulling away and peering down at Kyle.

‘Did you enjoy that?’ he asked, sternly.

‘Yes, I really did.’

‘Good. And you know what you need to do if you want that again, don’t you?’ said Will, talking a roll of Kyle’s fat belly in his hand.

‘Yes, sir. I do.’

Never Let It Get Personal - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 16,419

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Multiple Orgasms, Fingering, Bondage, Oral (both receiving in the form of a 69), Sweet Sex because I’m a sucker for their romance???, Sassy reader, violence and blood because they are assassins.

Notes: Why do I do this to myself? 16.4k later and it’s done. But I really liked this idea. It’s a lot of plot with a smidge of sexy smut because I love Mitch Rapp. But he’s also hella loving. And angry. And I owe @minhosmeanhoe a lot for talking through this idea with me. She is a saint and my Rapp twin. I love her. I hope you guys love this and think it’s worth it.

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femme fatale || mitch rapp (smut)

word count: 9,666

warnings: smut, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex, daddy kink, angst, mentions of death, betrayal

author’s note: my first mitch rapp anything really! i hope you guys enjoy this because i’m so genuinely in love with this fic! special thank you to @were-cheetah-stiles who helped me with this and gave me so much support! she’s on vacation right now, so she is unable to read it. anyway, enjoy!

pairing: mitch rapp / reader

masterlist

coming soon


Pulling the chair from underneath the table, Y/N set the last box of ammunition on the wooden surface next to the various handguns spread across the table as she sat down. She pushed her hair back behind her ear and sighed, ejecting the magazine from the gun by pressing the button on the side of the hand grip. She inserted the ammunition into the magazine, filling it back up before reinserting it briskly, hearing a clicking noise, which indicated that the magazine was locked in place.

She continued her actions, awaiting to hear the news on her next assignment from Irene Kennedy who was the director of the Counter-terrorism center at the CIA. Y/N had been recruited four years ago as a potential agent, only being twenty one years old. When Irene heard of the young woman and what happened to her as a teenager, she immediately took an interest.

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mad-madam-m  asked:

CARRIE CARRIE CARRIE I saw a picture of a dude in white mesh booty shorts and WHAT HAPPENS IF DEREK WEARS THOSE, HUH? WHY WOULD HE WEAR THEM? WHAT WOULD STILES'S REACTION BE?

MESH BOOTY SHORTS LIKE THIS (kind of nsfw. i mean, it is a butt in mesh booty shorts, so take that as you will.)

Stiles needs to excuse himself because Derek’s ass is great when it’s covered by denim, okay? He did not need this level of knowledge of Derek’s butt. 

He’s so overwhelmed he trips over his own feet, sending himself tumbling into the grass. A few of the marathon runners give him concerned looks, and then Scott is by his side. “Stiles! Are you okay?”

Stiles laughs hoarsely and points finger-guns at his best friend. “I’m great, Scotty. Why didn’t you tell me Derek was running this thing too?”

Scott raises his eyebrows. “I did. I told you I was training with him every morning. I asked if you wanted to come and you said, and I quote, you will drag me out of bed at five am on my vacation to run for fun over my dead body.”

Stiles vaguely remembers this, but it’s summer vacation. No finals, no stress, no classes, he can sleep till noon if he wants. He came to the marathon to pass out water bottles and cheer Scott on, not get inundated by Derek Hale’s perfect ass in it’s tight, mesh, see-through shorts glory. 

Scott sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s wearing a cheap spandex Superman outfit for the marathon, to match his college buddies’ superhero team. Although Scott’s outfit is probably the least revealing. Stiles is pretty sure Green Lantern over there is covered in a thong, body paint, and nothing else.

Stiles doesn’t know what the theme is: he knows the 5k is to raise money for the Trevor Project and it’s during Pride and there was something in Scott’s flier that he brought home months ago about having fun with your costume and encouraging creativity, but a lot of the dudes here are rocking crop tops and bootyshorts and some are wearing speedos and Stiles is pretty sure that’s bondage gear that couple over there is sporting. 

Stiles takes Scott’s hand and lets him help him up, and Stiles surges forward, only almost pitch face first into a familiar mesh-covered crotch. He falls backward just in time, eye-to-eye with an impressive bulge, and looks up to see Derek giving him a worried look. 

“Are you alright, Stiles?”

“Fine, fine, the balls took me by surprise– the FALL. Fall. I fell.” Stiles blushes, and then Derek is reaching out to him to help him up.

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Dark Star // The Preacher’s Daughter Part Four [A Mitch Rapp Smut]

Author: @minhosmeanhoe

Series Masterlist

Series: Part One Part Two Part Three

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader / Mitch Rapp x OFC

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Fingering, Gun Play, Daddy Kink, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, and Swearing. 

Word Count: 7,758

Song: Dark Star by Jaymes Young

A/N: Thank you to @stilinski-jpeg for proofreading this. I am sorry for uploading this a day late, my weekend has been incredibly busy. I hope this part is worth the wait. I love you guys. Thank you for being kind and understanding. 

Mitch Rapp, the man I have given myself to both physically and emotionally, is a trained killer was the only thing running through my mind all of last night. There was no amount of counting sheep in the world that would be able to make me stop thinking about the imminent danger inside of my own home and fall asleep. My brain pounded painfully inside of my head as the tears continued to roll down my cheeks. I had already grown tired of crying at this point, but my eyes still did anyway. Whatever energy I had was drained from my body and it took all the effort I had to pull my numb self out of bed and into my bathroom. I closed the door behind me and all of the events from last night came crashing down as I stared at it.

“Well, Rosalie.” He sighed. “You’re a queen and I’m an assassin.”

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Daryl Dixon x Reader – Reunion

Originally posted by failedbitch

Imagine saving Rick, Carl and Michonne when a run goes wrong. You get injured and they take you back with them to the prison where you reunite with your boyfriend Daryl who you haven’t seen ever since the apocalypse started.

Note: Way too long time no see, guys! I’m really sorry, I’ve been working all summer so I didn’t have time to write at all. I’m so glad to be back though! Since I haven’t written in a while I might be a bit „rusty“, but I still hope you enjoy it! 
And as always, this beautiful moving picture does not belong to me.

It all happened so fast. At one point you were just minding your own business trying to find a safe place to crash for the night. You never stayed anywhere longer than you needed -  found something to eat, got a bit of sleep and then back on the road.

Suddenly, the sound of voices coming from not far away made you stop. Someone was in trouble, you thought. Without hesitation you ran into that direction. After all that has happened you promised yourself you won’t let anyone else die if you can prevent it.

The voices were getting louder and louder, that must have meant you’re close. Finally you saw them. Three people - a man, a woman and a boy standing on a car surrounded by walkers. You could tell they were out of ammo since they were only using their knives and a sword.

They were running out of time, you had to act fast.

„Hey, bitches! Come here and have a bite of this fresh meat!“ You shouted in an attempt to distract the walkers as you climbed onto a roof of the nearest car.

You didn’t have a gun, but you had a bow and thankfully also a lot of arrows. You started shooting one after another as they crawled into your direction.

It didn’t take too long to take nearly all of them down especially since your three new friends starting attacking them from behind. You sighed in relief letting your guard down for a second.

„Watch out!“ The man shouted.

Too late. One of the walkers took you by your ankle and pushed you onto the ground. 

„Fuck.“ You growled in pain. That’s what you get for not paying attention for one goddamn second. You tried to reach your bow which you dropped in the fall but it was too far and that dead sucker was already crawling on top of you.

„Oh come on!“ You tried to push his face away with one hand and reach for either your knife or one of your arrows with the other hand but with zero success. Thankfully, you soon didn’t have to worry about it when a blade of a sword came right through the walker’s head.

„Thanks.“ You smiled as you took the woman’s hand. She smiled back and helped you get up.

„Are you okay?“ She asked worriedly once she noticed you can’t fully step onto your right foot.

„Yeah, it didn’t get me. I was only joking when I told them to bite me. Seems like this one took it way too seriously.“ You laughed trying to hide the pain. „I must have just hurt my ankle, I’m gonna be fine. Don’t worry about it.“

„There’s a prison not too far away from here. Me and my people use it as a residence for the time being. We’re gonna take you back with us and get you a proper treatment for that injury. After that you can go, or you can stay if you want. We could use somebody like you.“ The man said as he took you into his arms and carried you into their car.

Once you were all set, he stepped on the gas trying to get you all back as fast as possible. Not just because of your leg but also because it was starting to get dark and they were out for quite a while, the others must have been worried.

„I’m Rick, by the way. This is my son Carl and my friend Michonne. What’s your name?“

„Y/N.“

„I have to ask you a few questions, Y/N, is that okay?“ You saved their lives, which he was grateful for, but this was something he just needed to do.

„Y-yeah, sure, whatever you need to know.“ You nodded as you struggled to adjust your position due to your injury.

„How many walkers have you killed?“

The first question was easy. There was nothing else you hated more than those … things. They ruined your life just when it was finally starting to have some meaning. Killed everyone you loved. Or at least you thought so.

„Each and every single one I could find. They are monsters, they don’t deserve anything better.“

„How many people have you killed?“

This time you hesitated. It was hard for you to talk about it no matter how many days, weeks or months have passed.

„ … Two …“

„Why?“

„ … My mom and brother. They were bit. I just … I couldn’t let them turn.“ Your voice broke with the last sentence. You didn’t want to let them see you cry so you quickly wiped away the tears and took a deep breath to calm yourself down.

„I’m so sorry about that.“ Michonne said holding your tightly. „Is anyone else you know alive?“

„No … at least not that I know of. It was always just me, my mom and my brother … And my boyfriend. But I haven’t seen him since … since all this started. The small chance of him still being alive is probably the only thing that kept me going for this long.“

„I’m sure you’ll find him.“ She tried to comfort you as she stroked her thumb over your hand.

„Yeah, I hope so. Wherever he is – if he’s alive – I just hope he’s not alone. I hope that he found a group of nice people and that he’s happy …“

Michonne could tell how hard it is for you to talk about your loved ones so she tried to change the topic.

„How did you survive this long on your own anyway? You don’t look like … ehm … „

„Like I can fight? Yeah, I can’t, not really. But I can shoot. This baby saved me more than just a couple of times.“ You caressed the top of you bow lightly when you talked about it. It was like your best friend and until now the only ally against the evil in this new world. „It’s more quiet than a gun and better than a knife, I wouldn’t last a day without it.“

All of the sudden the car stopped. You didn’t even notice you were already there. Looking through the window you could see a bunch of people already standing there waiting for their friends to come back safely. They must have been really worried.

Rick opened the door and helped you out of the car. 

„Everyone, this is Y/N, she’ll be staying with us now, we wouldn’t have made it home without her.“

„H-hi“. You almost whispered and waved your hand. Everyone was staring at you. They all seemed liked nice people but you never really liked being the center of attention, so it made you feel a bit uncomfortable. 

Not knowing what to say you looked down shyly when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

„Y/N? … Baby, is that you?“ It was already dark so he couldn’t see you clearly. He slowly made his way closer and closer to take a better look.

„D-Daryl? Oh my god … I can’t believe it!“ If you could walk you’d immediately run into his arms. Tears started running down your cheeks. Ignoring the pain in your ankle, you gathered all your strength and made your way in his direction as fast as you could.

As soon as he heard you voice and realized it’s really you, he ran towards you, pulled you into a tight embrace and buried his head into your chest.

Unable to stop sobbing, you ran your fingers through his hair and stroked his back gently. You needed to feel him. To know that this is real. Not just another one of the dreams you kept having almost every night.

After a while he finally pulled away from the hug only to take your face into his hands kissing you deeply.

You couldn’t see the looks on everyone’s faces but they were all pretty suprised. Daryl never told anyone about you, anyone except Carol. He truly believed you were gone and didn’t trust anyone else enough to tell them about how he lost the only love of his life.

„I really thought I lost ya. I went into your house, there was blood everywhere, I thought … I thought you were gone.“ He confessed while caressing your cheek not letting go of you for one second.

„I’m sorry, I should have left a message or something … I-“ You covered your mouth with your hand trying to stop the sobbing.

„Shh, don’t matter now, the only thing that matters it that you’re alright. You’re here. With me. And I’m  never losing ya again.“ He wrapped his arms around you once again pulling you close against his warm body and whispered into your ear: „I love ya so much, Y/N.“

„I love you too, Daryl.“ You whispered back as you pulled your arms around his neck and kissed his forehead, unable to keep the smile off your face.

Riddle me this

Genre: Hitman!Luke, Gang!5SOS, smut (yea basically mature content.)

Words: 26,334

Pairing: Reader x Luke

You’d think killing your sworn enemy should be easy. Then how come it’s not?

Originally posted by hemmo-butt

One | Two | Three


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Imagine Eggsy Nearly Dies on a Mission

A/N: I’m back! I’m sorry I’ve been away for ages but I want to say THANK YOU for 500 followers, you guys are the best. <3 Here’s another Eggsy fic for you!

Warnings: Death? ;)

“Emrys! Listen to me, Emrys, you need to focus!”

Merlin’s voice was loud in your ear, but you couldn’t move. You were rooted to your seat, eyes glued to the screen as you watched the building explode.

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S A V I O R (B. Barnes x Reader)

Word count: 2688

Warnings: Kissing, some Russian and this is shit, but whatever.


Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace, Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight car
Тоска, проржавевший, семнадцать, Рассвет, печи, девять, доброкачественная, встреча выпускников/корпоративы, один, грузовых автомобилей

My hands sting and I can already feel the bruises beginning to form.
I sit to catch my breath, in the deafening silence I hear a drop of my blood hit the scuffed wooden floor.

Looking back, not wrapping my hands was a bad idea.

I get onto my feet and hook another bag up. This time, being careful to wash and wrap my hands.
Letting out years of pent up anger felt good after a long day of dealing with idiotic people.

“You should probably take care of that first.” Steve comments just as I knock the bag off its chain, accidentally spilling sand across the floor.
“If it isn’t the star-spangled man with a plan, why are you here? What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything -” he says obviously finding humour in his joke. My patience is running thin and I shoot him a glare.
He clears his throat, regaining his composure. “Fury wanted to see you.”
“Fury? Nick Fury, the one that relieved me of my title as field agent?-” Steve tries to cut me off
“-All because yours truly made one little mistake-”
“You almost got us killed.” He cuts in
“But I didn’t! I came in and saved your ass, again!”
“You wouldn’t have had to save us if you stuck to the orders!”
“It was my brother! What would you have done! I fixed my mistake, but Fury didn’t give me my second chance, why should I give him his?”
“Y/N I-” he sighs “I need your help.”
I shoot him a questioning look. “My silence is your cue.”
“Do you remember Bucky?”
“Bucky. Barnes?…The Winter Soldier? Yeah, why?”
“S.H.E.I.L.D wants to recruit him”
“Why? He tried to kill us. You were his mission-”
“I was his friend.”
“Steve, Bucky was your friend, the Winter Soldier, he’s your enemy. You can’t save him. He’s long gone. And he tried to kill us.”
“He remembers.” Steve argues “H-he’s still the Bucky I used to know, deep down.” He clears his throat again.
“Fury said that if you brought him back successfully-and alive- he’ll give you your job back.”
“Fine, but I’m doing this for me, and only me, not for you or your issues with your broken boyfriend.” Steve barely contained his excitement as we walk to the jet waiting outside. After a short flight to Stark tower and many questioning glances, we’re sat around a table discussing the terms of the mission.

“There are tracking devices in all the weapons in case you decide to go rogue.”
“Stark, I take my job very seriously.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s just a precaution.”
I glance over the weapons layed out in front on me and pick a few, stuffing them in my duffle bag. I pause when I see an unfamiliar weapon. “Hey, Stark, what’s this?”
“Turn it away from you, press the green button, it vaporizes whatever its aimed at.” He demonstrated on a vase sitting on the table and it turned to a pile of ash.
“Woah. That’s awesome!”
“Thank you.”
“Tony, if only you were as big as your ego, maybe you’d be able to reach the top shelf.” Although he was a few inches taller than me I still liked to tease him about his height compared to the others.

I sat back down looking over the Winter Soldier’s case file once again, taking in all the details, adding them to what I already know. In his military picture he looks young, determined, sweet, definitely handsome, probably a ladies man with his hair neatly cut and gelled.
In the other two he looked different. There’s one of him in cryo. Even in his frozen state you can still make out the crease in his brow, he looks like he’s… in pain. The one of him in action, a majority of his face is covered by a black mask, his hair long and messy. His metal arm stood out against his black uniform. The vibranium caught the sun and made the red star stand out even more. The way I recognized him best, as the Winter Soldier.

“Y/N!”
“What?” I say snapping out of my stupor

“You spaced out, it’s time for us to leave, you’re headed to Shelbyville, Indiana, that’s where the target was seen last.”

“He’s not a target.” Steve yelled from down the hall, slamming the door.

“Actually, Sam? Wilson, right? Alright bird-boy. I say we head to Washington. I was thinking metal-man grew up in Indiana, maybe he went looking for answers he couldn’t find. If you’re a fossil who doesn’t know how to properly use a computer, where would you go to search for the past?”

“The Smithsonian.” Bruce chimed in when we walked past him lab. I shot him a smile, seeing as he was the only one who sided with me when I almost got them killed, he’s one of my favorites. Him and Natasha that is. Agent Romanoff was always one of my favourites.
“Exactly, there’s a big plaque dedicated to Barnes there. I say we check it out. I don’t think Barnes would stay in one place too long, he knows he’s wanted.”
“You really think he’s there?”
“Wilson, I’m a spy, its my job to know where people are.” I send over my shoulder on my way into the quinjet. I’m met with a light chuckle from Mr. Patriotism himself. “What’re you laughing at?”
“You know, you’re quite funny, agent Y/L/N.” I’m slightly startled by the title, not being used to it anymore. Does he just have that much faith that I’ll succeed? Although, I’ve only failed one or two missions. “Alright Rogers, we’ve got three hours on the jet, try to behave.”

Three hours later I’m dropped off at one of Stark’s safe houses a few blocks from the Smithsonian.
“Call when you’ve got him, we’ll send a jet. And Y/N, please, don’t hurt him unless you absolutely need to.” A quick nod and a small smile from the Captain is my parting, from here I’m on my own. I head into the small rundown house, it’s bigger on the inside, cleaner and brighter too. There’s a bed to one side and a bathroom on the other.

“There’s no place like home.”

I drop my duffle and slip a gun into the waistband of my pants. I also grab a knife and slip it into the holster in my jacket, you can’t be too careful.

I decide to take the small ‘getaway’ car in the garage. Its not as great as Steve’s bug though.

The first few days go by with no sign of the infamous soldier. I’m caught off guard to finally see the one and only sporting a baseball cap, jeans and a sweatshirt. He has gloves on too, it seems. Its not too cold, it’s only late October, he’s most likely trying to hide the metal that could set civilians into a panic and most certainly give him away. He’s standing near the plaque dedicated to the one James Barnes of the 107th.

I stand and observe him for a little while. He reads the words over and over again. Its a good ten minutes before I finally walk over, careful not to startle him. I stand next to him and read the plaque for myself.
“Bucky seems like he was a great person, definitely someone you’d want to befriend.” He seems caught off guard by my words and he takes a second to comprehend my sentence.
“Yeah I bet he was a great person.” He says. “Was.” He says. I don’t comment on it because I know I wasn’t supposed to hear it. After another few minutes of silence I start again.

“You know, Steve really misses you.” His head shoots up and his eyes are dark and guarded. He recognized the name.

“He remembers.” Steve’s words play over in my head.

“Who sent you?” He questions obviously ready for a fight.
“S.H.E.I.L.D.” the look on his face tells me he doesn’t believe me.
“They want to recruit you.” No response.
“Bucky-” recognition crosses his features, but is gone almost immediately and his eyes soften, barely. He looked like he was thinking hard, remembering.
“-Steve wants you back, he wants you to remember and I can help.” I show him my S.H.E.I.L.D badge for proof
“Okay.”
“Let’s go because that guard hasn’t stopped watching you since you came in.” We head towards the street making our way to my car.
A tall man blocks our way. I pull out a gun and shoot. I clip his shoulder and he gets my leg, I collapse, but shoot again, this time its a head shot. The car’s gone and I can’t walk.
“How’d you get those through security?”
“Same way you got your arm through. Can you carry me, I can’t walk.” He picks me up as if I weighed nothing while I made a makeshift tourniquet.
I call Steve and then Romanoff and Banner, but none of them answer. He sets me down in a chair when we reach the safe house.
“Well, Earth’s mightiest heroes aren’t answering, I guess we’ll spend the night here. I’ll take first watch. You rest.” He hesitates, obviously not trusting me.
“If Steve trusts me, you can too. I promise.” He gets up and heads towards the bathroom. I hear the water start to run. I decide to make something light to eat for us, assuming he hasn’t had much lately. I hear the door click open.
“Hey, I made us dinner-” he standing in the doorway with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “I uhm, left my clothes.”
I hand him his clothes and try to keep my gaze from wandering. The door clicks shut again and I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding in. I sit on the bed and begin eating my sandwich. Bucky comes out, fully clothed with his hair neatly combed. I hand him his plate.
“You know, if there’s anything you want to know about yourself, I could try to answer, the basics at least. You’ll have to ask Rogers on the rest.”
“You know, that wasn’t me. None of it was me, I killed… So many people b-but, it wasn’t me.”
“I know Bucky.” I say taking his plate as he lays down.

He tosses and turns for hours. And when his breathing finally evens out I’m relieved to know he’s at least resting. I know what torture can do to a person. He sleeps for about an hour before he wakes up, immediately on guard. He wraps his metal hand around my throat
“Кто тебя послал?” Who sent you?
I’ve never been caught like this before, I could get out easily, but that would only make him more nervous,
“Bucky.” I choke out. “Its me, no one sent me.” His eyes soften and he drops me.
“I’m so sorry.” He says softly, glancing at the forming bruises.
“Its okay, I have them too, you know.” He looks surprised,
“You do?”
“Mm.” He looks at me for another second before going and sitting on the bed. He mutters quietly in Russian, but I can’t make out the words. I sidestep my bag and go to the sink.
“Drink.” I say handing him the glass. “What were you just mumbling?”
“Пытки равна прочности.”
“Torture equals strength.” We say together.
“ It was written on every surface back at Hydra.” I sit on the bed next to him, a bit closer than necessary.
“Все это будет нормально.” It’ll all be okay
He looks up at me and for the first time I see the ghost of a smile grace his features.
My phone rings interrupting our conversation.
“I’m sorry, we had a mission, I’ll come out to pick you up now.”

Thanks Clint, see you soon.“

“Katniss will be here soon, just throw your stuff in my duffle, I got it.” He does as he’s told, obviously confused, and goes back to his spot on the bed. It kind of set me off that he was trusting me. I knew well enough that it was an act. That he would try something. It was almost too easy.

×××

Bucky became my new partner on all my missions and he’s remembering more and more.
With the help of Steve of course.
Its been about 2 years. I’ll fill you in on the details.

I was right, when Clint came, Bucky tried to escape. To kill us. He didn’t succeed. He was locked up for a while, with only minimal visits from me or from Steve. Steve helped him to remember, I was like a therapist. Maybe it was because I didn’t remind him, maybe because I was, in a sense, a stranger, but nevertheless, we grew closer. Eventually, I got Fury to agree to let Barnes roam, with me as an escort. Once he was stable enough, he began training, which, in my opinion, he didn’t need. And then he was recruited.

“Hey, Buck, we gotta go, we’re on our way to Vegas, remember?”
Finally, a mission in a nice place. We drop down and check into a nice hotel, that’s a new one. There’s a Hydra base under one of the abandoned casinos in town and its our job to take it down.

×××

“Hey Buck, we’re in Vegas, we should do something fun.”
I say as we walk away from the burning building, cliché am I right?

“Why don’t we go back to the hotel and order room service? Watch a few movies, I’m still not caught up with the 21st century.” I laugh and nod my head in agreement.
I collapse on the bed and bury my face in the pillow.
“Are you tired, Мой ангел?”
I feel a rush of warmth at the name. Did he just call me his angel?
“No, just getting comfy.” I reply, my voice muffled my the pillow.
“I can make you comfy.” He says climbing in beside me and pulling me to him. He trails kisses up my neck to my jaw. I turn over to face him and give him a puzzled look. I’m not denying my feelings, everyone knew they were there, we’ve just never… confronted it, or even talked about it. And he’s never this carefree.

He smiles and captures my lips with his, a soft, yet hungry kiss, like he’d been waiting to do it. He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he instinctively put his hands on either side of my head to hold himself up. I tuck my hand up under his shirt and he pulls away only long enough my me to slip his shirt off and throw it across the room. I trace the skin where the metal meets, its still red, but not as bad as when I caught him watching his own reflection. As if he were a monster, a few weeks after I brought him to S.H.E.I.L.D. he slipped my shirt up over my head and trailed kisses down my neck, to my chest and onto my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He brings his mouth back up to mine and his tongue skims my bottom lip. The moment ends when my phone rings insanely loudly. Bucky curses under his breath.
“What?” I snap at the person on the other line.
“Did I interrupt?” Comes the snarky voice of Tony on the other end.
“Why are you calling, Stark?”
“I sent Natasha to come get you guys, she’ll be there in a few hours.”
I end the call without a goodbye and look to the soldier piercing me with his blue eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He just chuckles and places a light kiss to my forehead.
“We’d better get dressed.” He muses a playful smirk on his face.
“To be continued, Кукла.”

Doll.

THE SUPER MASTERLIST

BUCKY BARNES

Originally posted by simplytanvi

Winter’s Witch {WORK IN PROGRESS} || Bucky Barnes had just escaped his captors, Hydra. He didn’t know where to go, or what to do. Somehow, he manages to stumble into a girl’s apartment who he’s met before. The twist is- she’s not your average girl.
 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9  Part 10 Part 11

Of Course, Doll || The Avengers throw a little kick back in their facility- nothing too crazy, after a successful mission in taking down some Hydra agents. You’re still a new member to the avengers team, and have a similar skill set to Natasha, except your past is a little more gruesome to hers. The Avengers trust you, however some are still wary around you.

We’ve Got All Night || The Avengers throw a little kick back in their facility- nothing too crazy, after a successful mission in taking down some Hydra agents. You’re still a new member to the avengers team, and have a similar skill set to Natasha, except your past is a little more gruesome to hers. The Avengers trust you, however some are still wary around you.

I Thought I Lost You || Bucky and (Y/N) had been in a relationship for a long time now. They were both stupid and reckless, which is why Fury had made a bad decision sending the two lovers on a mission together.

Manners Maketh Man || Walking home at 1am wasn’t a smart move on your part, you should have known it would have eventually gotten you into trouble. Thank the heavens you had a protector who had been watching from a distance.

Don’t You Mind? || He never meant for it to happen, it kept him up at night. Bucky Barnes wanted to be with (Y/N) so badly, but the Winter Soldier had other ideas. || Best read with this song

Round Two || Getting captured and injected with the same super serum as Bucky Barnes was never something you had planned for. When Bucky finally gets you back, it’s high time you blow off some steam.

Are You Okay? || Yeah, so a bullet or a sharp blade could probably kill you. But what about self doubt? No one ever teaches you how to not let insecurities kill you on the inside.

Post Break-Up Sex || Break ups can lead to many things. For some, it calls for the best rom com and a bowl of ice cream to drown yourself in your own feelings. For others, it can mean shutting yourself down for a while, taking time for some well needed self care. For (Y/N), it meant going off the rails just a little. || Best read with this song

Yellow || Bucky wasn’t the same kid from Brooklyn like back in the 40′s, but he also wasn’t the soviet master assassin; The Winter Soldier, no. He was somewhere in between. You are the bright yellow in his life that always brings him back down to earth. (Artist!Reader AU)

Begin Again || Bucky Barnes did it- he got clean, and is now trying to make up for the horrors he’s caused by working for Shield alongside the Avengers. When he gets sent on a solo mission to bring in (Y/N); an ex avenger who’s gone rogue, someone particularly special from his past, things get heated.

Somewhere I Belong || Sometimes all the pain and the bullshit going on in your life is just one big shitty hurdle you have to pass to get to the bigger picture, to get to the light at the end of the tunnel. Bucky was (Y/N)’s light.


PIETRO MAXIMOFF

Originally posted by imagine-that-marvel

Life Of The Party || Being the youngest avenger did have it’s perks. Saving the world was your job man! What could get better then that? Maybe a steamy drunken make out session on top of the Avengers tower with none other than Pietro Maximoff?


KURT WAGNER

Originally posted by onorasdrivein

The Bamfs || When your boyfriend gets dragged away in the middle of the night on a dangerous mission against his own father, causing him to miss your three year anniversary, he makes sure he comes back with a present. Or in this case, lots and lots of little, annoying, blue, presents. You always did say you wanted a pet, right?

Sparring || You and Kurt have a cheeky sort of friendship. Watch as your ‘friendship’ gets a little well… complicated, all because of one little sparring session.

Outcast At Last || Dating a mutant proves to be difficult with anti-mutant parents. Fortunately, you learn an important lesson that they do not define who you are, I suppose being an outcast isn’t such a bad thing in the end. || Best read with this song


SIRIUS BLACK

Originally posted by your-harry-potter-imagines

Innocence {COMPLETED} || Sirius Black gets charged with the murder of his best friends. He’s denied a fair trial, and gets thrown into Azkaban. You know for certain he’s innocent, so you take matters into your own hands.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Double Trouble {WORK IN PROGRESS} || They met each other while they were in school by a happy coincidence. Little do they know, death, pain and destruction is on the way for the two Gryffindor lovers.
Part 1

One Too Many || On a night out with the Marauders, James bets Sirius can’t down more than seven shots of Beetle Berry Whiskey. Sirius, never backing down from a challenge, accepts, and the effects are near catastrophic for the reader.

Strip || You agree to help Sirius study for his OWL’s, however what you failed to realise that tutoring the marauder was like babysitting. After various failed attempts, you finally find a way to keep Sirius somewhat focused and, interested.

Somebody To Love || “I did that annoying thing where i put loads of smaller boxes inside one big box and you’re getting really mad but you don’t know that the ring is in the smallest box and i can’t wait to see your face.”

Liquorlip Loaded Gun || “I wish I could disappear, So you would never see me in this mess I get in. However hard I try, keep on stumbling still. Once in a while I’ll show you who I am. When I can I’ll, Open up the oceans, jump on in.”

Do I Wanna Know? || Reader works as a barista in a busy cafe, right in the heart of London, completely oblivious that there are such things as Wizards, magic, and most of all; a deadly war waging on within the magical community. Reader is blissfully ignorant to the wizarding world, just as any muggle should- that is until Sirius Black shows up in her life.


DRABBLES/OTHER

Imagine... trying to prove yourself to Dean’s father

Summary: A case pops up nearby while Sam and Dean are away, leaving you the only one available to track down the monsters. But Dean insists you have help, and sends along a surprising partner: his father. The two of you have never met, and you’re anxious to prove yourself to the seasoned hunter.

Pairing: Dean x Reader (tiny tiny minuscule amounts of John x reader)

Word Count: 3,700

Warnings: typical spn violence, injuries, blood, language

A/N: This is for @trexrambling‘s hunter celebration! Congratulations on the followers, Jess, and thank you for coming up with such a fun and unique challenge!

My hunting partner was John, the weapon was a paintball gun, and we’re hunting vampires…

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wannabanauthor  asked:

Hi there! I love your blog! I've seen you mention a few TV shows and movies for research, and I was wondering what your opinion is on the show Leverage and it's accuracy for social engineering in potentially violent situations. I remember one character saying that "Thieves look for entrances, but grifters create them." They'll often use approaches like this to avoid violence.

If the question is: can you use social engineering in order to defuse or avoid violent situations? The answer is yes.

Grifters are conmen, and like spies, they don’t want to fight unless it is absolutely necessary. Whether they can fight or know how isn’t really the point: combat makes messes, big messes, and draws the kind of attention they don’t want/can’t afford.

As for the line, “thieves look for entrances, but grifters create them” the point of it is that grifters focus on people as the exploitative aspect to get what they want. After all, it doesn’t matter how good your security system is if your infiltrator is expected to be there. When someone opens the door for them, they didn’t have to break in.

It is worth pointing out though, being able to stop, defuse, avoid, or redirect violence via social engineering (especially when the character is the target) is very difficult and requires someone who excels at rapidly changing their story/manipulating under life or death pressure while also maintaining their consistency/re-establishing their innocence/regaining their target’s trust.

That’s masterclass social engineering. The average person, even the average grifter can’t do it. When we see Nate Ford, Sophie Devereaux, or Michael Westen on Burn Notice socially engineer their way out of potentially explosive and violent scenarios, we’re supposed to understand this level of manipulation is very difficult. You need a solid ability to read people, predict their behavior patterns, understand how to shift your role so you suddenly seem trustworthy, confuse them, and then redirect their anger somewhere away from you.

You can see another variant of this kind of social engineering on display in The Negotiator. Samuel L. Jackson’s character is a hostage negotiator. Deliberately maneuvering a man who’s taken a child captive around his apartment so he can be taken out. You can see him joking with the target, gaining his trust, distracting him, and guiding him off topic until he’s in a position to be neutralized.

The Grifter is not a fighter, they are a talker and their trick is getting people to move however they want. A skilled grifter can slip in, turn the best of friends against each other, and walk away without a care. Grifters don’t punch. They trick other people into doing the punching for them. When sitting down to write a Grifter, remember: their first instinct is getting others to act in their place, to create the openings they need, and be their fall guy.

On the whole, I’ve liked Leverage ever since the episode where Eliot pointed out that guns are ranged weapons, and the most common mistake people make is giving up the distance advantage by getting in too close. However, I’ve only watched the first season. I liked what I saw, it’s an enjoyable caper show in a similar vein to The Equalizer, Person of Interest, or Ocean’s Eleven. Not quite in there with the original Law & Order when it comes to accuracy (in this case for cops) but certainly better than White Collar, which uses similar techniques (though never, ever pay attention to White Collar’s usage of the FBI… ever). The X-Files, meanwhile, fudges a bit but it’s pretty good when you’re wanting to get a grasp of the FBI’s culture and what happens to someone who doesn’t come from a military/law enforcement background.

Of course, the patient zero for these types of shows is the original Mission: Impossible. The television show, not the Tom Cruise movies. Mission: Impossible is all about flipping people and manipulating them into positions to do what you want. The A-Team is its slightly more pulpy counterpart, but its a similar (though far less subtle) deal.

On the whole, Leverage tends to explain itself better, which is helpful when you’re trying to learn or take techniques from a television show rather than just absorb.

The reason why I often suggest Burn Notice and Spy Game is not necessarily just because they’re good, but also because they teach. The narrator on Burn Notice, especially in the first season will offer up a lot of helpful/beginner tradecraft for a variety of situations. This, ultimately, will help you more for taking pieces and creating your own characters than a show that’s trying for smoke and mirrors like White Collar. The same situation is there with Spy Game, where Robert Redford’s character is teaching Brad Pitt’s on how to be a spy. Ultimately, more helpful in the long run than just watching The Recruit. The Michael Mann films like Heat and Collateral are exceptionally good for learning tradecraft, but you have to know that’s what you’re watching/looking for. You’ll learn more by watching them together, rather than separately. The Borne Identity novels are also very good at showing the tradecraft, while the Le Carre ones tend to be a little more hit and miss.

When you’re new, you want sources that are free with their information. Who are good at getting you to think, to take what you’re seeing and apply it to new settings. You may not ever figure out how to build a car bomb, but learning about how the thought process of a spy, criminal, or conman works will serve you better for your writing than a hundred other movies that only show.

After you’ve drawn back the curtain then you can turn to those other shows, novels, and narratives with new eyes. Once you see what they’re doing, how they’re doing it, and why when they don’t explain you’ll get more out of those other sources than you did before.

When you’re watching a well put together show like Leverage, start questioning character motivations. Not just whether the social engineering there works, but why the characters are choosing to go that route or which routes they prefer. Leverage gives you five characters with different specialties, four thieves and the guy who made a career catching them. They all think in different ways and have different approaches when it comes to problem solving. Leverage offers up a heist per episode, so you have lots of opportunities to see the characters in action. Evaluate their problem solving methods and you’ll come away with more than just questioning whether or not it works.

How and Why.

Then, go find a good video on YouTube where a professional magician explains pickpocketing. It’s the art of misdirection.

Once you understand basic theoretical underpinnings (whether or not you could ever actually pull the real thing off) then you can apply it to many different situations in a fictional context.

When it comes back to applying this to the combat arts, learning to see the big picture is the first major difference between trained and untrained. The untrained only copy surface level, singular techniques, while trained delves deeper to understand how these techniques work together.

My advice for when you’re wanting to pick and choose television shows for accuracy is to check who their consultants are/were, and what experts in the show’s chosen field say about it. That doesn’t always guarantee accuracy, but it will help you flip through the rave reviews.

If you want to watch more fun shows with Timothy Hutton or just like detective shows, I recommend Nero Wolfe.

-Michi

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