through the haze

you know what would have been great? if ron got sorted into slytherin.

imagine– we have this kid on the train, the first friend harry meets, with his corned beef sandwiches and smudged nose. ron is eleven years old and he wants gryffindor, because he’s a weasley and that’s what always happens. but it doesn’t happen.

what a way to redeem slytherin house– or, god, at least complicate it. because ron is petty. he is mean and sharp and ambitious and jealous– and he is loyal to the ends of the earth. he is all those things, and he is and always has been good.

potter becomes before weasley in the alphabet, so harry says not slytherin please and gets told might as well be gryffindor. percy and fred and george are all sitting there in red and gold, ruffling the already-ruffled hair of the boy who lived, smug, and then ron sits down and the hat spits out slytherin!

c'mon it’d be fun. just imagine–

  • the weasleys freaking out– but even that first christmas molly sends him a sweater in beautiful green and silver.

  • snape taking points from gryffindor when ron breaks rules or mouths off. “i’m in your house.” “hm, couldn’t tell which weasley it was…” /drifts away

  • sitting with harry in potions and in flying– whatever classes they happen to share. meeting up to study. scarfing down their breakfasts at separate tables so they can go hang out in the empty classrooms before the day starts. hermione reads while they play exploding snap.
    • the trio signing up for all the same electives third year. this friendship being something they earn and work for; not just the one that looked easiest. (not to bash canon ron&harry, the bros to end all bros, but by putting this very obvious obstacle between them– it makes it that much clearer to the reader that this is a love worth fighting for, because they’re fighting for it).
    • ron being jealous that harry and hermione get to share this house, this home, these hours, while he’s stuck with malfoy and parkinson and goyle– because that would eat him up some days, some months, this insecure kid who’s been the last at everything all his life. this kid who always leaves and always comes back.

  • ron, who constantly compares himself to his brothers– not as smart, not as popular, not as good. one more nail in that coffin, here, yeah? he’s not a prefect, not a quidditch star, not a troublemaker– and even when he becomes those things, someone else has always gotten there first
    • well, i guess he got to this house first at least

  • ron still snaps at snape in potions, after hermione’s been ignored three times, “you know, sir, i think hermione might know the answer.” he still pulls the bars off harry’s window with a stolen, flying car. he still shows harry around the burrow shyly, not knowing what a wonder a warm home is. he still stands up in the shrieking shack as best as he can with a broken leg and tells a mass murderer that if he wants harry he’ll have to go through him first. 
    • ron weasley is a lot of things, but one of them is absolutely a true friend.

  • in their second year:
    • when everyone calls harry the heir, they eye ron at his side and sniff.
    • when hermione lays petrified in the medical ward, ron sits at her side and reads her homework assignments aloud and thinks my house this was my house
    • when ron hugs ginny’s damp, shaking frame after the chamber, ron says sorry and sorry and are you okay and i’m so sorry and ginny calls him an idiot.

  • the trio spends more time in the library with hermione, since ron can’t come to gryffindor tower to study, and homework remains a thing that has to happen. fred and george constantly try to sneak him into the tower anyway. 
    • “c'mon, ronnykins, you belong here, you deserve it, no one’s gonna fuss, it’s your BIRTHRIGHT,” and ron fusses and rolls his eyes at them
    • and then in fourth year in one of those periods where he’s not talking to harry and harry’s not talking to him– he just snaps at the twins
      • because it’s not, alright?
      • not his birthright, not his house, and maybe no one would fuss if he snuck in, maybe no one would care, and that makes it worse not better, because then he’s just that weasley who should’ve been gryffindor
      • and isn’t
    • (and harry overhears this caterwauling, feels his heart fall to his toes, and goes and awkwardly asks ron if he wants to go a few laps on his firebolt). 
    • (because, god, harry-the-chosen-one, harry-in-the-cupboard-under-the-stairs, harry-who’ll-save-us-all– he knows what it’s like to have should have beens on your shoulders, and he knows what it’s like to not be wanted).

  • ron cheers for gryffindor during quidditch matches in those first few years, and sits with hagrid and hermione and neville. harry’s seeker, and fred and george are beaters, and ginny becomes chaser eventually, and honestly screw the slytherin team. they have each and every one of them said disparaging things about ron’s mother.
    • harry and hermione badger ron into trying out for keeper fourth year; he and harry have been practicing on the quidditch pitch because its a non-library-shaped place to hang out where both of them are allowed. ron makes the slytherin roster, and malfoy grudgingly provides ron a team broom after the captain chews him out for a bit.
      • “he may be a weasley, but he’s our keeper, don’t you want to win, draco”
    • but the sort of things they spit in the locker room, the words the players hiss or snigger, the slurs that come easy to their tongues– ron would like to say that he considered just walking out of the cesspit, but instead he snipes and sasses and shouts and sometimes tries to spell slugs at the worst of them. 
      • it doesn’t do much, that one irritated voice of protest– except that it does. and he’s got a new (hand-me-down) wand, after the gilderoy fiasco, so the slugs even come out the right end.
    • fred gives him a black eye with a bludger one time (though ron does manage to block the quaffle) and molly sends a howler to gryffindor table with the morning post. (“RON DID YOU TATTLE”) (“IT WAS CLEARLY PERCY, FRED, SIT DOWN”)
      • (the weasleys often have family conversations across the great hall, with hufflepuffs and ravenclaws covering their ears long-sufferingly between them)

  • in the lake, it’s still ron hanging there in the water, still and bloated. it’s still harry’s heart that stutters in his chest, for all it’s just a game, just a game, just a game, right?

  • ron listens hard and tries to talk himself out of fist fights, all that next year in the slytherin common room as they read aloud rita skeeter articles.

  • when hermione calls dumbledore’s army to its first session in that pub, there are green scarves in that crowd– ron and one of the beaters who ron’s gotten to help glare to rest of the slytherin quidditch team into submission.

  • ron beats draco to being prefect (i think i remember it was dumbledore and not mcgonagall who seemed to award prefect status– snape doesn ’t get a say).
    • percy is SO PROUD, as usual, but so are fred and george. “did you see the little malfoy git? green with shame, my god.”

  • when harry has the dream about sirius, ron isn’t there to wake. but when draco’s pulled out of bed to be a professional bully– er, i mean inquisitorial squad member– ron follows at a careful distance and curses draco from behind. 
    • they ride thestrals over london. harry finds the prophecy and ron thinks about the sorts of things that get decided at your birth.  
    • sirius black was a son of slytherin who had a lion living in his chest that he couldn’t hide away. 
    • ron was meant to be gryffindor, and through a haze of injury and fear he watches sirius die just out of harry’s reach.

  • just imagine: ron with his temper and his sharp words and his fierce loyalty. ron who looks into the mirror of erised and sees house cups and prefect badges and ambitions earned– he could belong in slytherin. there is nothing wrong with wanting things, and he wants them so bad.

  • there are so many reasons to fight a war, and so many ways. harry and his sacrifices, his loving resignation. hermione’s good right hook and bottomless bag of supplies. luna, brilliant and a bit batty. lee jordan’s radio and mcgonagall’s burning patience and brittle, certain bones.

  • just imagine: when the last battle comes, there is a slytherin on the field who is not snape.

  • when draco and his parents walk away, in that last battle, ron–
    • who slept in the same dormitory as the boy for six years
    • who heard draco’s nightmares and saw him paling and desperate all sixth year
    • who is as pureblooded as lucius’s spoiled whelp
    • who remembers grimacing at the thought of squibs
    • who has known magic all his life
    • who spotted draco penning letters home to his mother every sunday and hiding them when the other boys could see–
    • ron sees them going.
      • he sounds no alarms. he says no farewells.
      • he turns back to his friends, and his fight, and lets them be.

  • just imagine: when harry kneels on the train platform and his second son asks him “but what if i get sorted slytherin, dad?” harry can say, “the bravest man i ever knew was in slytherin house. whatever you are, wherever you go, we’re going to be so proud of you." 
    • and they can both gaze over to where ron is squawking beside his daughter’s trolley of luggage because crookshanks (who will live to be forty eight million years old) has latched onto his shins with a violent fondness.

This is an illustration of the differences between a record company, a record label, a distribution deal and an imprint.

The music industry is made up of RECORD COMPANIES. There are three of them, with unequal shares of the market. These record companies own RECORD LABELS, who make the vast majority of decisions regarding the artists that they sign. 

Sometimes record labels will also have IMPRINTS. They’re a bit like record labels, except the record label that owns the imprint will have a degree of say in how the imprint is run, who they sign and how much money they get. 

Sometimes artists will have DISTRIBUTION DEALS. This gives them more freedom over the kind of music they make, how they release that music, and means they usually aren’t committed to making a certain number of albums. Only high value artists have distribution deals (Beyonce has one.) 

Harry Styles is signed to Columbia, which is owned by Sony, and has a distribution deal through his own Erskine Records. 

Liam Payne is signed to Capitol, which is owned by Universal, and has a distribution deal through his own Hampton Records. 

Niall Horan is signed to Capitol, which is owned by Universal, and has a distribution deal through his own Neon Haze Records.

Louis Tomlinson appears to be signed to Syco, which is owned by Sony, and appears to have an imprint label called Triple Strings.  

anonymous asked:

Please bombard me with Pining Sherlock fics. I need some.

You asked for it, you got it Nonny! This is literally my favourite trope in the entirety of existence. I have a tonne of fics, and I’m still sorting all of my bookmarks, so I probably still have more to add. I had SO MANY TO PUT ON THIS LIST, that I had to remove links to the authors, because Tumblr kept deleting all my links. So yes, over 150 fics here below, all from mostly Sherlock’s POV (@holmesthesociopath, this should help with your ask as well until I finish the list of Sherlock POV fics for you)!

Because I’ve been working on this list for over 6 months, please advise me of any broken links and I will do my best to find them again for you!

Get ready to have your face ripped off 🙃

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banora-white-aka-dumbapple  asked:

The minute I saw "That time a bear broke into the house while I was stoned on cold meds." I knew I had to search your family lore tags to see if you mentioned it before. Whenever you're up for it, mind telling about it? I'm actually curious how did you realize it? Were you alone the entire time?

Ok, so it actually happened ON my 16th birthday, so October of 2006, two years after we moved to CO. I was attending the Germ Pit of Public High School, and got sick about a month in.  I was the sort of phenomenally boring child that didn’t have a curfew because I never went anywhere, and we had Cody, the Gentleman Shepherd at the time, so my parents felt it was OK to leave me alone for a few hours while they did errands.  

There’s something up with either the Bipolar or my allergies, but pretty much all respiratory medications make me hallucinate.  Doesn’t matter if it’s benadryl, nyquil or nasal spray, twenty minutes in I’ll be out of my goddamn mind.  But it beats not being able to breathe. So I’m in my bedroom upstairs bedroom, convinced I’m growing an exoskeleton, While Cody sits on the bed next to me, doing the Shepherd Thing where he plants his ass in front of my face and watches all the doors and windows.

I have nearly passed out when I think I hear a weird popping noise outside, but assume that it’s just me developing mandibles, so I don’t think much of it.  Cody, being the Responsible Adult, gets up to investigate.

A moment later, I hear him Barking, and know something is Amiss.  This dog Does Not Bark.  he didn’t bark when we picked him up at the shelter, he doesn’t bark at the door or the foxes or anything, but he is barking now.  I warp myself in the Extra-Soft Rainbow Unicorn Blanket for protection, and stumble downstairs.

For some context, the downstairs has an office, with a large set of sliding glass doors and a concrete porch, then a large wall with a heavy door that leads to a mudroom, which has a shitty little screen door leading to the outside.  It was in this room that we kept the cat food and littler box, because 1. they stank. 2. Cody would occasionally want to play with the cats Too Much and they could hide in there.  

Out on the porch is the Department Of Wildlife sharpshooter, pointing her tranquilizer gun into the Mudroom.  I squint through the haze of dayquil through the heavy door (which has a window) at…

It took me a good minute to realize that was a Bear eating the cat food, because my first thought was “When did we get a shag sofa?”.  Then DOW guy shot him in the ass in the dart, and I watched as a 300lb black bear dove THROUGH the door shitty screen door he’d gotten in through (It was the kind that closes behind you) and run off to the field across the street, pursued by four agents with dogs and bear mace.

The DOW sharpshooter, named Debbie, apparently couldn’t see the wall between us from where she was standing, and was very relived that neither of us had been mauled.   She stayed with me while I called my parents, and even gave me some stickers.  The bear had apparently gone though my whole neighborhood in a fit of hyperphagic madness, chowing down on garbage, cat food, a small vineyard’s worth of grapes and a couple of Mrs. Chin’s goldfish.

They successfully tranquilized the bear, and took him up to Pingree to be hazed and released, where he would hopefully leave people alone.

BTW, if you ever have to call your parents in a situation like this, leaving a voicemail of “Hey mom, I’m okay now, but a bear broke into the house and the Department of Wildlife wants to talk to you.” is not going to help your parents remain calm.

We are all sunbeams, dancing
Through the cracks in our shells,
Pacing the limelight, drifting
Through its melancholy haze.
 
Watch me bloom in particles,
Pirouetting in patches of light.
Watch me dream the night away,
Barefoot, stepping sleepily.
 
I am stardust, abandoned,
Left to grace mere crevices.
I am atoms, drenched in flame,
Eternal.
 
Watch me shine.
—  poeticallyordinary, “Stardust”

yessss oh boy oh boy

angst i love

(here’s what i promised earlier

i had to do research on anemia so this might not be the best :’) )

Words: 1252


Lance pushed himself up out of his bed, a distant look in his tired eyes as he went to his bathroom to clean up. He took his face mask off and ran a hand across his face, humming low in the back of his throat at the feeling of the smooth skin against his more rough hand. A small smile found its way onto his face and he was reaching for the medicine cabinet when he heard someone pounding on the door. He left the bathroom to get his clothes and let the robe he had been wearing slide off his bare shoulders so it fell onto his bed. He took his time with getting dressed and just as he was pulling on his long-sleeved shirt, he heard the door open, footsteps falling behind him. He went to turn around when two slim arms snaked around his waist, a chin resting on his shoulder. He turned his head and felt a small smile spread across his face when his eyes met Keith’s, a hand coming up to take hold of the smaller male’s.

“Keith, I have to finish getting ready.” He murmured, turning his head just enough to press his lips against his cheek. Keith let a low hum leave him, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them once more.

“Shiro wants us at breakfast. Told me to come get you.” Lance sighed and leaned back against his boyfriend, eyes slipping shut.

“I’ll join you all in a minute.” He began to pull away when Keith tightened his arms around his waist and back up towards the door.<!

“No, we gotta go now.” Lance’s eyes darted towards his bathroom and when Keith finally released him, he went to move to the bathroom when Keith’s hand intertwined with his own. “Babe, what’s wrong?” There’s was a concerned tone in the smaller male’s voice, trying to meet Lance’s eyes. The Blue Paladin silently stared at the bathroom before looking at Keith, clearing his throat.

“Nothing, nothing. Let’s go.” He could take his medicine after breakfast, he’s forgotten before, it’d be fine as long as he took it right after breakfast. Besides, he didn’t take them yesterday and he was fine. Tired, very tired, but fine. Keith hesitated before nodding and slowly leading him to the bathroom, looking back at his boyfriend every few moments. Lance would just offer him a small, sleepy smile every time their eyes would meet.

As breakfast went on, Lance would start to space out, though he tried his hardest to stay concentrated on the conversations. He could feel eyes on him and when he turned his head, he noticed his boyfriends staring at him, both Shiro and Keith staring at him with concern in their eyes. He just offered them a smile before letting a sigh slowly fall past his lips.

When the group was getting ready to head to the training room, Keith and Shiro approached him.

“Are you okay?” Shiro’s voice cut through the haze in his mind and it took him a moment to respond.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I’m just tired.” He waved a dismissive hand and smiled at them. A content little hum left him when he felt the Black Paladin’s lips press against his temple.

“We’re here if you need anything, Lance.” Keith took hold of one of his hands, intertwining their fingers. Lance just smiled and nodded, his mind wandering away from the thoughts that yelled ‘take your medicine’ to ‘i love my boyfriends’. He didn’t go to his bedroom, no, he went with Shiro and Keith to change into their armor. He pulled it on, moving slower than he usually did. Shiro and Keith noticed it and shared a concerned look. As they walked to the training room, they stuck close to him, hoping the way he was swaying was just because of lack of sleep.

Training seemed to be going well, the group was moving as a team now instead of as five separate beings. Just as the castle dropped more training bots, a loud thump sounded behind the three who were more hand to hand along with Hunk’s panicked voice yelling ‘Lance’. They all spun around and Pidge’s eyes widened as they ran to Hunk and Lance’s side. The Blue Paladin was being held by Hunk, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily through his mouth.

“Pidge, go get his medicine!” Hunk ordered and the younger female nodded quickly before quickly taking off. Keith and Shiro rushed over to them, eyes widen and panicked as they stared down at their boyfriend.

“What happened to him-?!” Keith’s panicked voice was louder than usually, hands twitching to move and comfort his hyperventilating boyfriend.

“Is he having a panic attack?” Shiro’s voice cut in. His voice was calmer, though it wavered slightly as he tried to keep himself calm.

“Enough! He’s anemic, if he doesn’t take his iron pills, this happens. Now, one of you go get something for him to take the medicine with!” When Hunk noticed the two still standing there, he glared at them. “Go!” He snapped, snapping them out of their little daze. Keith was the one to bolt to the kitchen, Shiro dropping to his knees and taking hold of one of Lance’s hands.

Time seemed to go slow as they got the medicine to Lance, helping him take the pill. They sat together in the training room silently before Hunk sighed and carefully stood up, picking Lance up in his arms.

"I’m taking him to his room-” He started, pausing when he felt Shiro’s hand on his arm. He was quiet for a moment before sighing softly and moving to let the leader take his boyfriend from his arms. “Be careful with him.”

“Of course.” Shiro smiled softly before nudging Keith and leaving to take Lance to his room. The 19 year old had fallen asleep after they got him to take his medicine and the group had been relieved when he slowly buy surely began to calm.

They had to explain anemia to Allura and Coran, whom had both been trying to get them to put the Blue Paladin in the cryopod. Coran seemed more freaked out about it than Allura, but that was probably because he had gotten close to Lance over the past year or so.

“He’s going to be okay, right?” Keith stared at their passed out boyfriend, put his hand on the scanner so the door would open. He followed Shiro into the room and watched as he laid Lance down on the bed.

“He should be fine.” The older male murmured before letting out a soft sigh. He noticed Keith fidgeting and let out a tired chuckle. “Do you want to lay with him?” At the quick nod he got in reply, Shiro smiled softly and moved so Keith could carefully climb over Lance and lay on his side closer to the wall. His arms snaked around the Blue Paladin, holding him close to his smaller form. Shiro smiled softly before climbing into bed with them, one arm wrapped securely around Lance while the other was wrapped around both of them.

When Lance would wake up later in that day, he’d find his boyfriends holding onto him like he was going to disappear from their hold. After the incident in the training room, Shiro and Keith were constantly making sure Lance remembered to take his iron pills and though it was tiring, it was nice to know they cared.




Please do send me more prompts like this, this was so much fun to write!

To Steal A Kiss

Summary: As a mild criminal, you make a bold move to pick-pocket a suspicious looking stranger, but you may have picked the wrong target. (Bucky x reader)

Request/Prompt(s): Can you do this “I kissed you as a distraction while stealing your wallet” with Bucky x reader? Thanks!

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1933

A/N: Ok first, I do not condone theft. Second, I’m so glad someone picked this one!!! :D This was such a fun idea!

Originally posted by allthisherostuff

“We’ve been here for over an hour!” you whined, pacing the small empty room, dust particles swirling up into the sunlight with each step. “When do we make the drop?”

“When I’m ready,” your partner hissed, clearly annoyed with your impatience, “We’re the ones with the goods, they’ll wait and right now I’ve got a lurker that’s been hanging around at the corner for too long.”

“Lemme see.” You pushed your way to the window, picking up the heavy binoculars from the floor.

“Big guy. Army green coat, and black hat, northeast corner.”

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November Rain (Part 1)

Originally posted by rocksaroundthesuns

Characters: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 3001

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Angst, Violence Against the Reader, Swearing, Bigotry 

Summary:  After a hunt goes awry, Dean and the reader spend the night together, but was it all a mistake?

A/N:  This is my first A/B/O fic, written for @dr-dean‘s A/B/O Challenge (Happy Birthday!!).  I’ve always wanted to write one of these, so thank you so much for breaking me out of my shell.  And thank you @notnaturalanahi, for getting me out of my funk and inspired to write this, not to mention betaing it for me.  The prompt was November Rain by Guns n’Roses (one of my favorite songs, by my favorite band.)  Written using @kittenofdoomage‘s A/B/O Rules.  It got a little too long, so I’m splitting it up into two parts.  

***Please do not repost my work without my knowledge or consent.  Even if you are giving me credit, please do not repost my work.***


The day you met Dean Winchester you knew he belonged to you.

It wasn’t the earth shattering electricity you’d heard True Bonds conveyed when mates touched.  It was in a smile, in a glance, in the warm, comforting knowledge that he was yours.  Just for you.

Since then, loving him had been as easy as breathing, but being with him was considerably harder.  If Dean had felt the call, he never showed it.  He worked beside you, treated you like family, but never made an advance.  And that was the true challenge of your situation, and the true burden of being an unmated Omega.

“I’ll have you know, I’m great company to most people,” Dean said, shaking you out of your thoughts.

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Mind Bending

Shiro and Lance had been taken by surprise while on a diplomatic mission.
They hadn’t expected any problems on what was meant to be a peaceful planet, so they were dressed in their casual clothing.
Without their weapons or armour the two Paladins were captured by the waiting Galra without much resistance.
——————————-
Hours later Lance woke up chained to the wall with dried blood plastered to the side of his face.
Judging from how his vision swam and the intense pain behind his eyes, it was a safe bet that he had a concussion.
Lance vaguely registered someone calling his name, but it sounded like they were talking through water.

“Lance! Come on Kiddo.”
Lance looked up in the direction of the voice to see a black blob talking to him.
It took him a minuet to realise the blob must of been Shiro.
“Shiro?” Lance mumbled the movement causing his to moan in pain.
“Yeah bud I’m here. Do you remember where we are?” Shiro asked, he sounded panicked but Lance couldn’t figure out why.
“Castle?”
Shiro cursed softly under his breath. “No lance. Look we’ve been captured by the Galra. I don’t know if they got the rest of the team but I need you to try and stay awake. Ok bud?”
Lance didn’t know if he nodded or not. But he must of made some kind of movement because his head was spinning and dark spots were dancing across his vision.
“Hurts” Lance wimmpered.
“I know Bud… I’ll get you out of here I promise.”
Just then the cell door opened and two large Galra walked in.
Shiro instantly started thrashing about yelling at them.
Lance could tell that Shiro was trying to gain their attention. He was protecting him.
And Lance wasn’t going to let him do that.
Growing up Lance had always been flexible. If he hadn’t of gone to the Garrison he had always wanted to be a gymnast. It was like flying without a plane.
Even through his concussed haze Lance was able to remember how to dislocate his thumbs and pull them out of the cuffs.
Lance was sure it would hurt when he was a bit more coherent. Bit for now he had to save Shiro.
The Galra were so focused on the Black Paladin, that they didn’t notice Lance until after he grabbed the blaster from one and shot the other.
The other Galra turned and Lance fired again, however his vision was swimming so much that his aim was off and only grazed their shoulder.
The Galra grabbed Lance by the throats and slammed him against the wall causing Lance to cry out in pain.
He could see Shiro’s mouth moving. Maybe calling his name, maybe cursing the Galra that kept hitting Lance against the hard metal wall to get Lance to let go.
Lance knew he was losing consciousness.
It was so hard to keep his mind focused.
His eyes landed on the chains holding Shiro up.
He only had one chance.
Lance bent his arm until he could feel it almost popping out of his socket as he lined up the shot.
He took a breath in and out.
Then fired.
Lance didn’t know if he hit the chains.
But judging from how the Galra dropped him to the ground and the muffled sounds of fighting Shiro was free.
Lance felt his eyes droop closed as Shiro’s face came into focus.
“Lance! Lance please you have to stay awake!”
“S…orry” Lance mumbled as his eyes slid shut and he fell into the blissful abyss of unconsciousness.
——————————
Lance fell out of the healing pod into the waiting arms of Shiro.
“Hey Lance, how you feeling?” He asked looking him over concern clear on his face.
“Fine I guess… what happened?” Lance asked rubbing his head.
“We were captured by the Galra and you got a pretty nasty concussion.”
Lance winced in memory “oh yeah, how did we get out?”
Shiro smiled as he helped Lance sit down on the couch in the infirmary.
“It was all you, I didn’t think anyone could bend like that, let alone make that kind of a shot even without a concussion. You really are amazing…” Shiro blushed “and way more flexible then I ever hoped to imagine.”
Lance smirked “I would be happy to show you any time.” He winked and laughed as the leader of Voltron was left a spluttering blushing mess.

Title: Armor Crafted by My Own Hand

Pairing: Prince Sidon / Link

Rating: General 

Tags: biting, kissing, fluff, confession scene, fish person loving a blondie, sweetness with a bit of bite

Summary: On a rainy, cold day, Sidon confesses his love to Link

Continue reading here or check out on AO3! Comments, reblogs, and kudos are much appreciated!

-

Lounging atop one of the watchtowers that sat at the end of the Inogo Bridge, Sidon gazed glumly at the rocky path that led away from the bridge and up into the mountains. Overhead, the sky was as grey as his mood. From that veil of grey, a heavy rain fell, turning the world into a blurred wash of blues and greens. The air was chilly but nothing his thick skin couldn’t handle. Though to anyone without tough Zora skin, it was a probably bundle yourself up and stay inside kind of temperature.

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what I found in you | 01

Originally posted by jkguks

jungkook x reader slight angst, smut

12,820 words

a/n: remember that time i posted a long list of fic ideas n stuff i was writing and this wasn’t on it? oops! this was originally gonna be a oneshot but things got way out of hand so, please forgive me for taking two months to write a 12K part one, i know i’m garbage. the next part will have a lot more angst so prepare yourselves, and once again thx @mysoftae this would never have come to fruition without you ;(

~ in which your ridiculously hot, annoying brat of a roommate keeps you up at all hours of the night, takes up all your space, is essentially trying to ruin your life, and is intent on sticking his dick in you


     You had always liked living alone.

     There were no one’s dishes to wash but your own, you could play your music as loud as you wanted, the only person you had to worry about your cat liking was yourself, nobody could complain about what spices you stunk up the place with, and most importantly, you never had to wear pants.

     You would have been content to live alone for the rest of your sad, lonely life enjoying nothing but those small pleasures.

     Then one day there was Jeon Jungkook, on his knees, hands clasped beneath his chin, looking up at you with those wide, glittering brown eyes of his. Maybe you would have said no if he hadn’t been blocking you up against the door to the library, if there hadn’t been a line of people building up behind him complaining about the two of you being in their way, if he actually would have moved when you grabbed his shoulder and tried to shove him to the side with all of your strength. That kid had been working out a little too much.

     Also, he was begging. That might have had something to do with it.

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starsfelllikerain  asked:

Please tell us more stories about the corn!!

brief preface: i live in iowa, one of the united states’ largest producers of corn (as in maize for those overseas), and worked at a corn breeding research facility. these guys are in charge of creating new lines of seed for farmers to grow; i took the job because it was the only plant science-related job i could, and it sucked but it wasn’t the worst job ive ever had and i made bank because it sucked and no one wanted to do it. there were two parts to this job: data collection and pollination. i wrote out a huge thing on the details of these and then decided it was too long and rambly so imma just gonna skip that stuff and get to the Weird Liminal Space Corn Stories:

-for data collection, our job was to take plant an ear hights in fields all around iowa, meaning that we would get to work in the morning and they would load us up into transit vans and drive us out to a random small town with a test field for testing. once we got there, we had 16-foot-tall wooden measuring sticks we would unfold and bring into the field with us, and the instructions from there were simple: 2 people on each side of the breeder. you measure the line of corn behind you by sticking ur stick next to an average looking plant and reading off first how far up on the plant the first ear of corn was, then reading off how far the base of the flag leaf was. then, you turn around to face the line of corn behind you, and while youre turning around and sticking your measuring stick into the ground on that side your partner reads there numbers, you read your second line of numbers, your partner reads their second line, and then you walk into the nearest alley and march up two lines of corn while the people on the other side of the breeder go. you read the two data points on one side. your partner reads and u turn around. you read the data points behind you. your partner does. while you are going, your breeder is walking up the field typing in the numbers on a data logger and the other team is walking up two rows. once you reach the end of the field, your breeder stops you, you walk two plots down and turn the other direction. you read off your data points, ect, you do that all the way down the field. you do this for hours until your set is done. all told, once your team of 5 people gets oriented and going, it should sound like this to you:

stick. 65, 102. turn. stick. 68, 104. pick up stick. walk down two rows. stick. 85, 102. turn. stick. 84, 103. pick up stick. walk down two rows. ect. you have to annunciate yourself and not talk to your teamates so the breeder can hear you through the corn. on windy days, you have to shout. you dont have time to stop and talk; you actually barely have time to do anything but focus on the manual task of number, turn, number, walk, number, turn, number, walk. when we were done, we would come out covered in sweat and dirt with our sticks, pile in the transit van, and drive like, the 2-3 hours back. work days were about 9 hours with 5 in the field, meaning that you worked 40 hours a week and could do overtime on weekends doing pollination (which was actually really fun). 

-no headphones. at first i thought that rule was stupid, but like, once you enter a cornfield you realize that this is because 1. if someone is screaming your name you need to be able to hear and 2. corn touches everything; when you’re in the corn, there is always something touching you. we wore special hats with veils, long pants, long shirts, eye protection, and closed toed shoes because the corn leaves are sharp and will cut you up; i have scars from this. your headphones would get ripped out within like, .3 seconds, because like corn just snags and slices up everything. 

-one time, on the hottest day of the summer, we were doing the number-turn-number-walk routine and heard someone yelling for our breeder guy. he stopped us short and called back, and like, this is the scary part about cornfields: like i said in the tags of that one post, corn swallows up sound more than anything. it’s impossible to tell where you are and impossible to hear anything, even if you scream, so its best to stay close to your team unless your doing solo work, and if you’re doing solo work like, for the love of god, keep walking in the direction youre supposed to be walking until you’re finished. trust that theres something on the other side, even if you cant see it. but anyway; hes yelling, and shes yelling, and suddenly she bursts through the corn after searching for us and says that this one kid is having a seizure. queue both of them running out of the corn and we’re just standing there. eventually we hear one of the other breeders yelling “___’s group, where are you?!” and we’re like “over here! we’re over here!” and put our sticks up, and the other breeder comes into the alley and we keep doing data points. we had like, 6 kids go home that day because of how hot it was (over 100 degrees) and we ended up not finishing the field because they decided it wasnt safe for us to work anymore. (also, kid was predisposed to seizures and they took him home, he was fine and came back to work a couple days later)

-i kind of talked about this in the tags of that other post, but i think the scariest day was the day we were in a test field a little ways away from the research center. it was kind of stormy but we were like ok whatever, we’ve gotten rained on before with no problem, queue us starting the data collection for the day. its…..really windy. like. i wish i could recreate that feel in art or something or even film it someday, because 1. when the wind blew, the whole field-which, remember, this is our whole world when we’re in there because you can’t see anything but corn in every direction- moved. like, bended, which is typical of corn because like yeah duh it does that, but its like if you were standing in a hallway and suddenly all the walls bent with the wind and so did the cieling. it was that disorienting; i actually stumbled a few times because the only steady thing was the ground and 2. it was loud, like a weird roar in the background. everything is rustling all around you at once. we had to scream our numbers for the breeder to hear us, and when i moved my measuring stick would catch the wind and drag me back a little. then, we heard thunder in the distance. our breeder was like “okay guys we’re gonna finish this field because we’re only like 4 ranges away from the road” and we’re like ok yeah, 40 plots, we can do this. the wind picked up, we kept moving at like twice the pace to get out of there, and when we reached the end it was really close and our breeder was like “come on we have to go now” and we like, picked up our sticks and ran through the corn bending around us with the thunder and everything, can i say midwestern gothic because ive never experienced midwestern gothic more than 4 teenagers with corn sticks and a dude with a data logger running through a discombobulating corn haze at 11am with thunder rolling in. we get to the edge of the field, scramble over the barbed wire fence because we are not running through the rest of the field. in a hot second more teams emerge from the field at various speeds just as it starts storming. we pack up our sticks. our team of four gets in our breeder’s pickup truck and we drive back in the rain. it was a look guys ngl

-throwback to when i just finished doing solo tagging of the ranges in the corn in a field three hours away from the research center. our breeder said to meet him back at the truck when we were done, so when i reach the end of the field having stapled on tags for around 100 ranges (about ten minutes of walking and stapling alone in a single line; these tags will help orient harvesting in the fall), i turn around and start heading straight back, because like again, when you’re in the corn alone its best to know exactly where you are and the way out is always a straight line. i start following my tagging trail back. about five minutes into walking i hear rustling near me. y’all, i was not ready, started jogging and checking behind me and after a little bit i slow down because i feel like i lost whatever it was. rustling continues like its following me. hellno.jpg, not today, i run out of the corn into the alley on the other side, decide i must have imagined it, and start walking towards the truck. as it turns out it was another one of the guys who didn’t know where to go, saw me from his row, and was following me to find his way out of the corn. almost died that day y’all

-occasionally we would visit fields to do brittle snap count, which is lining up, walking a plot, stopping, and yelling out how many broken stalks of corn we counted in the plot we just walked through, then continuing. the whole thing is that farmers understandably hate it when all their corn breaks and dies. we went to this one field that had been hit by a wind storm; it was a really hot day and we were all like dying. this is where my aforementioned scarring comes in. in cornfields, there exists a thingy called corn rash. this is where the corn hits your skin so much that it makes tiny cuts all over you, and then pollen from said corn gets in the cuts along with sweat. it is the worst time i have ever experienced in my life like literally nope would not recommend. eventually we realized that half this field of test crop was broken. like, we stopped counting the amount of plants with broken stems and instead started counting the amount of plants still standing. i was wearing all the protection i needed/that was required (so was everyone else), but it was so hot that literally all of us had corn rash and i was bleeding, big yikes. eventually our super nice breeder for the day realized that we were Struggling™ and was like ok listen we’re going back this isn’t worth it and all the corn is literally dead inexplicably anyway and then took us to get gas station ice cream after bc she felt bad for us lmao, a blessing

-talked to the breeders a lot and asked a ton of questions. learned that sunflower breeding is a thing that happens and that they’re bred to be larger to bear more seed for like, those bags of sunflower seeds you see at gas stations. the more u know

-zoo corn

-the corn in the pollination fields (the corn being bred into pure, genetically identical lines for testing….*insert Corn Discourse Concerning Loss Of Genetic Diversity Here But Not Gonna Talk About It In This Post Bc Its Already Super Long*) gets really weird mutations that i’ve talked about before

-this post got so long im sorry

tl;dr: corn is a terrifying liminal space

3

She watched the screen flash. She couldn’t read it through the haze, but she heard the voice:
“Transmitting.”
Her breath came in racked, tearless sobs of relief and elation. She had to grip the panel to keep from falling as vertigo stronger than anything she’d suffered in her climbs overtook her. She wanted to shout, but she lacked the strength. She wanted to laugh at the heavens, at the fleet and the Death Star, but she lacked the strength for that, too. Instead she turned to Cassian, who still waited in the smoke.
She stumbled to him, smiling like a child, and did not speak.

Through the Fog and the Haze

Context: I was DMing for a group of 4 and I was running the Bog of the Hag from Nerzugals DM Toolkit and they had gone through two of the days and were getting frustrated at not seeing any sign of the hag.

The party consists of a blue dragonborn fighter (Valeros), a high elf rogue (Merisiel), a tabaxi druid (Sagitta), and a dwarven monk (Thror). Valeros decided he would put on a show for the witch and began playing his lute and Thror chimed in with a handbell that he had. The exchange went as follows:

V: (ooc)Okay so I’m tired of getting nowhere. Where is this hag?

DM: You haven’t seen any signs yet, and as Kuurg the oni had said, you don’t find her she finds you.

V: (ooc)Well she can find this. I want to roll to start playing my lute.

DM: Alright, roll me a performance.

V: 15.

T: Ooh! I’ll join in with my bell! *rolls* I got a 23!

DM: Alright so Valeros, you begin strumming your lute and while the dampness of the fog hasnt hurt your lute, theres still a bit of tuning issues at first but you work through it and start to lay down a decent riff when Thror comes in with his bell and something about the rhythm inspires you and your playing becomes more fast paced and melodic and the sounds of your music echo out and are lost into the fog.

S: (ooc, after being silent for the duration) You guys started a new band just for this hag? What are you, dungeons and dragonforce?

Better Than Sleep (Draco Malfoy x reader-- SMUT)

A/N: i know i have a bunch of draco drabbles to do but this is the smut that was requested a while ago lmao

word count: 687
warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex

You lay in bed, almost asleep. Almost. Draco rests beside you. You feel him stir slightly, but don’t think anything of it. A quiet whimper escapes his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You giggle and snuggle your back into his bare chest, laying your arm over his. He begins pressing small pecks to your neck making you squirm slightly. “Mm.. babe, m'tryna sleep,“ you mumble through your sleepy haze.

He chuckles against your skin, his warm breath tickling you. “I know, love. I’m sorry. You just look so good lying there. Too good to resist.” His kisses become more lazy. His mouth opens and his tongue grazes your skin.

You turn your body slightly and take your fingers off of his to run them through his messy, white-blond locks. “Draco..” you whine.

He doesn’t let up, though. He adjusts his arms and lets his hands drift up and down your sides, gliding from your bare thighs to your clothed upper torso. “Can you face me, sweetheart?” he hums.

You sigh, letting a thumb trace his cheek bones. “I don’t wanna encourage you.”

“Please?” he pouts, his hand sliding your- his- shirt up, exposing your abdomen, now. He lets his hands travel up and under it, cupping your breasts.

You grin at the contact. “No.”

“Okay, then. I can work like this,” he chuckles, kissing the spot right behind your ear. “Arms up for me, love.”

You, surprisingly, oblige and suddenly your borrowed shirt is on the floor. You feel a finger wrap around the hem of your panties and you soon feel them sliding down your legs. You laugh, feeling much more awake now. His fingers dance down your front side. His touch has you craving more now. You finally feel the pressure on your bundle of nerves and you let out a quiet moan. Your thighs are clenched together tightly, trying to lessen the burning desire between them.

You can feel his grin as plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Glad I didn’t let you sleep? Wanna open up a little bit?”

“Mm.” You nod and part your legs as his hand slides lower.

You involuntarily buck into him. He chuckles slightly. “Okay. I see what you want, love.” After a moment of readjustment, the feeling of his hard on against your heat is quite apparent. You can’t help but whimper. “Patience.” He tuts. His hand finds your chest again as he pushes in.

You sigh in a mix of pleasure and relief. “Feels so good.” It’s a breathy, desperate sound.

“Mm.. You’re so wet, darling.” He grunts, pumping into you, trying to find a steady pace. After a few quiet moans, he finds his rhythm.

“Draco..” You practically whisper.

His movements falter a bit. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head. “It’s just.. I wanna face you now.” You giggle.

“Really? Right now?” He questions, a hint of laughter in his voice. He stops his movements and pulls out of you. You can’t help but whine a little at the empty feeling. “Okay, on your back now, love. Let’s get you a good one, yeah?”

You flip onto your back and he quickly fills you up again. The angle is brand new, yet comfortably familiar at the same time. He gives you one slow, hard pound. You stifle a moan, yet it’s still pretty loud. Oops. “Oh my God, sweetheart.” He chuckles at you. “Getting close? I know I am.”

You merely find yourself whimpering and nodding like crazy, your fingers tangled in your own hair. His thrusts are sloppy and hitting all the right places. “Right there?” He asks, hitting it repeatedly. You nod again and again.

“Oh my God, Draco!” You draw in a sharp breath and bite the inside of your cheek, reaching your climax.

He’s grinning ear to ear, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his forehead. “That’s my girl. Mm- right- there. Aw, yeah. That’s it.” He reaches his peak, repositioning himself to kiss you. He leans his forehead against yours. “Better than sleep?”

“Better than sleep,” you agree.

Crash

@talortut​ asked:  Hi! I love your blog <3 If you’re still taking requests, I would love to see some sick/hurt/exhausted/whatever Lance with the line “You’re gonna crash" from the starters. :)

((Thank you for the prompt SOMEHOW THIS TURNED INTO A 2400K LANGST/ KLANCE FIC BUT LMAO))

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Life in Death

Summary: Dan, the God of Death, and Phil, the God of Life, have sex. Except sometimes, embarrassing things happen while Dan has Phil’s cock in his ass.
Word Count: 3815
Warnings: smut, second hand embarrassment
A/N: this is a companion to A Dance With Death and The Flower of Life, but it’s not necessary to read those first to read this. I… have no words. Truly. Y'all liked my death god fics so much that you guys wanted another sequel. Except, you wanted a SMUT sequel. And not just that, but you wanted a sequel where Dan turned into a skeleton during sex. I hate all of you so much. Don’t say I don’t give the people what you want. So here it is. The most anticipated fic I’ve ever written. Just in time for autumn as well!

Read it On AO3!

-

Dan loved everything about Phil. He loved the way his black hair shimmers in the sunlight, the way his smile got so large that his tongue poked out from his teeth. He loved how Phil had a bright aura around him, shining so brightly as if he were the sun itself. He just loved Phil. A lot. And he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

But the one thing that Dan liked the most about Phil was his performance in bed.

Over the past few thousand years, Dan’s learned that Phil is amazing in bed. He didn’t know whether that was because he had a lot of practice on Dan, or if he’d had a lot of practice while he was still alive. He had been a prince after all; do princes screw around a lot?

Dan didn’t know, but either way, he was grateful to have Phil all to himself now. He was grateful that he could have Phil fuck him into the mattress for the rest of eternity. Dan was truly a lucky man.

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Boastful Drunks

Description:  A drunken argument between a boastful Jimin and Jungkook leads to a competition in which you are the impartial judge.  The question up for debate: Who is better in bed?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 9413

Warning: Dom!Jungkook, Dom!Jimin, spanking, breath play, slight daddy kink, punishment, drunken sex

A/N: Thanks to anon for the inspiration.  Sorry it took so long but I hope it is everything you wanted.

 @avveh SURPRISE!  I can’t believe I kept it hidden from you.  

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Neil knows how much Andrew hates it when people hide things from him. He remembers how much every reveal that he’d been lying to Andrew about his past and who he really was annoyed Andrew. He remembers how bothered Andrew was, even through the haze of his medicine, when Kevin kept the news of the Ravens switching divisions from him for so long. And he’s known for a long time that at some point he is going to have to tell Andrew that what they have is something more to him than the casual thing they both claimed they meant it to be.

So, now Neil tells Andrew right away when it’s something important. No matter what.

He figures it out in the middle of the night, after he wakes up and can’t fall back asleep. He listens to Andrew’s steady breathing and lies facing Andrew, looking at the way his hair is mussed up and how he has his entire arm crammed under his pillow, clutching it for dear life as he angles it into the perfect position. And suddenly it hits Neil like a ton of bricks.

“Andrew,” Neil says quietly.

Andrew is a light sleeper as a leftover defence mechanism, so he stirs and then blinks a few times before frowning at Neil. “What?”

“I love you,” Neil says because he does and how did he not realize it earlier? Love is not something Wesninskis are good at, but he is not a Wesninski anymore and he loves Andrew so much it hurts.

Andrew pushes the edge of his pillow into his face and then mutters, “I fucking hate you. Go back to sleep.”

But Neil knows he doesn’t. Neil knows Andrew is just grumpy and tired and putting on the usual facade.

“No. You like me,” Neil accuses.

Andrew lets the pillow fall from his face and shoots Neil a deadly look that is totally wasted on a man so head over heels in love that he sees right through Andrew’s wall of defences. “No. I hate you. What fucking time is it?”

Neil completely ignores the question as he says, “I think you might love me too.”

Andrew rolls over to check the clock because clearly he realizes Neil is not going to tell him the time, then he rolls back to face Neil and asks, “Is this really a conversation we need to have at 5:23 am?”

“I just wanted you to know,” Neil says. “I didn’t want to keep this from you. I don’t want to keep anything from you anymore.”

Andrew groans and buries his face in the pillow. Neil can’t tell if he’s upset Neil woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him he loves him or if he’s upset because Neil’s justification is working on him.

“You are the most annoying person I have ever met,” Andrew says when his face finally emerges from the pillow. “I cannot believe I’m in love with you.”

His tone says it’s an insult, but Neil is beaming anyways. Andrew really loves him back.

They don’t say it to each other again. Andrew isn’t one for repeating himself and restating the obvious. But they both know it is true thanks to their middle of the night confirmation that this is real and they both feel the same way.