well you have to lose a few to win a few

Okay but why couldn’t they still have played Quidditch during Goblet of Fire?

I understand that the champions probably wouldn’t want to deal with that while also competing in the tournament but it’s not really fair to everyone else to just cancel Quidditch for the full year.

What about the 7th years who wanted one last shot at winning the Quidditch Cup?

What about the 2nd years who were excited because they could FINALLY try out for the team?

But more so the 7th years, I mean no one even told them “btw we probs aren’t gonna have Quidditch next year so make this year count” like that’s actually really shitty.

And I understand that they needed the Quidditch field for the third task but there’s only like 5 games a year, you could’ve done them a little earlier and still had time to use this thing you teach called magic to grow the damn maze!

OR EVEN BETTER, instead of having the House Quidditch tournament, have the schools play against each other. I mean 3of the 4 champions are kick ass Seekers so why not?

OR BETTER YET have each of the champions form a team using anyone they want

Harry just asks the Gryffindor team to play with him and they use Ron to replace Oliver like in OOTP and at first he’s really nervous but then he gets his nerves on track because there’s NO WAY he’s losing to Krum after he took Hermione to the Yule Ball.

Cedric decides to try to get the best he can from all of the Houses, though the majority of his team is still Hufflepuff because he knows how they play and likes how they work together. He does find a Beauxbatons boy that makes a great Chaser though.

Karkaroff insists that Viktor only use the boys from Durmstrang (because he’s probably a misogynistic little shit) and he doesn’t really care because he’s the best Seeker in the world. Even if he just lost the Quidditch World Cup to Ireland, it’s IMPOSSIBLE that he wouldn’t be able to catch the Snitch before the other team got too far ahead.

And then there’s Fleur, who has never played Quidditch before but suddenly there’s a 13 year old red-haired Hogwarts girl asking her if she can be on her team because “I’ve been practicing with my brothers’ brooms for years and I’m actually quite good but I won’t be able to make the Gryffindor team for a few years” and Fleur agrees as long as Ginny helps her find some other teammates and gives Fleur flying lessons. Ginny accepts the offer and, in Holyhead Harpies fashion, sets out to put together an all female team because females are very unrepresented on the other teams. Ginny and Fleur ask two Bulgarian girls to be a Beater and Chaser. One of Fleur’s Beauxbatons friends is the other Beater, and Ginny asks a fifth year from the Hufflepuff team (who Cedric didn’t choose) to be the third Chaser, as well as Cho to be their Seeker. She insists that Fleur be the Keeper so that she doesn’t have to worry as much about not being steady on a broom.

Instead of all of the teams playing each other, they do it tournament style. Harry and Cedric’s teams go first. Ron is a nervous new Keeper and let’s quite a few balls in before he makes his first save and suddenly he’s on a roll. Cedric’s team has gained a substantial lead by now, but Harry spots the Snitch and just barely grabs it before Cedric (Fred and George are pleased since they’re still not over the Hufflepuff victory the year before when Harry was attacked by the dementors).

Fleur and Viktor’s teams play next. The girls have 3 superb Chasers that are scoring constantly. Every time Viktor’s Chasers make it to Fleur’s end of the pitch, they get distracted by her flowing silver hair and tend to miss without her having to do too much (which is good cause even though she’s better she’s still not QUITE comfortable on a broom). Viktor frantically searches for the Snitch because if he can get it soon they’ll still be able to pull ahead but then the Beauxbatons Beater hits a Bludger right at him and in the moment it took him to dodge it, Cho had spotted the Snitch and already had her hand stretched out to grab it. Before he could even reach her elbow she had the tiny ball held tight in her fist.

The losers of the first round face off for 3rd and 4th place. Viktor, with a sore ego about getting beaten to the Snitch in the last game, catches it within 20 minutes. Cedric laughs the whole thing off and gives Viktor his congratulations, but he now has a harder drive to win the Triwizard Tournament.

Everyone is anxious for the Potter/Delacour game. Fleur knows that Angelina, Katie, and Alicia won’t be effected by her the way the Durmstrang boys were, so she trains even harder to keep up with the rest of her team. The game is underway and it’s neck and neck. Both teams have three excellent Chasers, causing the Quaffle to change sides constantly. Ron and Fleur are both highly nervous, but still manage to block most goals. Fred and George know that Ginny is the other team’s best Chaser, but can’t find it in themselves to try and knock their 13 year old sister off her broom. The Durmstrang Beater doesn’t have any such obligations, and aims a Bludger at Alicia as she’s speeding down the pitch towards Fleur. It hits her in the ribs and she is escorted down to Madame Pomfrey. Now that Fleur’s team has the upper hand, they start pulling ahead. Harry and Cho are playing rough searching for the Snitch, trying to psyche the other out by flying in their path. Harry notices Cho following him and decides to dive as though he’s seen the Snitch somewhere near the bottom of the field. He’s surprised when he doesn’t see her dive after him and looks up just in time to see her catch the Snitch 50 yards away. Everyone heads back towards the ground, the girls have a group hug because never in a million years did they think they were ACTUALLY going to win! Harry breaks through to shake Fleur’s hand and tells her “good game”. Fred and George are staring in astonishment at their little sister because “What the hell, Gin? Where did you learn to fly like that?” while Angelina is nearby cursing the fact that they can’t have 4 Chasers on the Gryffindor team.

In the end, Dumbledore allows the teams to throw a party in the Great Hall. Some Hufflepuffs make flower crowns for Fleur’s team to wear as the winners. A hush falls over the Hall when the doors open and McGonagall comes in. They expect her to yell at them for being too loud, but instead she walks over to Fleur and hands her the Quidditch Cup because she “won it fair and square” but explicitly states that if she does not return it to her by the end of the year “I will go to France and take it from you myself”. The Hall bursts into laughter and applause.

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Words: 12k
Genre: Extreme fluff for all you bitter people out there (me being included)
Read the sequel drabble: here
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Top 9 Most Fight-Able Characters in Mystic Messenger

(ranked by the likelihood of winning from least to most likely)

9. “Mary” Vanderwood, Secret Agent Murdermonster

Result: A swift and painful death

Are you shitting me? You’ll be goddamn eviscerated on the spot. Not to mention nobody will ever find your body. This is completely fucking unadvisable. DO NOT DO THIS unless you have a DEATH WISH and want to disappear from the world completely. Vanderwood is not to be messed with. They’ve killed many a worthy foe, and you will not be one of them. There’s not much else to say here. I don’t care who you are, you should not challenge Vanderwood. Say your prayers, fucker

8. Unknown/Saeran Choi, Total Edgelord

Result: Utter defeat, probably followed by torture + imprisonment

I don’t think you need me to tell you that this kid is fucking off his rocker. Let’s be real, he’s probably killed a few people, and he enjoyed every minute of it. You can bet your ass he’ll likely torture you after defeating you, too. And you know, some of you sick fucks will probably enjoy the whole damn ordeal. You’re probably the only ones who’d WANT to fight him just to have him fucking step on you. Well congratu-fucking-lations, you got what you wanted. He still beats your ass. The only reason Vanderwood beats him in this ranking is because it’s possible he’d keep you alive for fun, and some of you would enjoy that, so at least it’s a fuckin victory for somebody. Fuck.

7. Jaehee Kang, Smarter than the CEO

Result: Total annihilation + jail time

Do you see this face? This is the face of someone who has been repressing violent urges for fucking years for the sake of keeping her job. If she could snap Jumin’s neck, she would in a heartbeat. You do not want to give her a justifiable reason to unleash that utter fucking rage on your sorry ass. Did you forget she has a black belt in judo? She could beat my ass. She could beat your ass. She could beat anyone’s ass. I don’t care WHO you think you are. And after the fight? She’ll report you to the proper authorities, pick up a cup of coffee, and finish her daily tasks like nothing fucking happened. What a wild bitch. I fucking love her to death, tbh. And you know what? How dare you challenge her. She deals with enough shit in her life. I hope she beats your ass with a righteous fucking fury. Have fun in jail, dipshit.

6. God 707, Meme Lord Supreme

Result: Depends on your approach, but probably a failure

Honestly Seven’s about as fucking predictable as a lunch box full of wasps. What am I even supposed to say here? He’d probably imitate that shitty ass vine meme the first time you punch him and say “I can’t believe you’ve done this”, complete with a British accent, but when you keep hitting, it’ll confuse him. The element of surprise is probably your best bet, but you also have no fucking clue what he’ll do. He might beat the shit out of you. He might scamper away on his scrawny ass legs and proceed to hack into everything you once loved or held dear. He might lay down on the ground and let you kick the shit out of him. In the end, it depends on his mood. Is that reliable at all? Absolutely fucking not. So go for it, but I literally have no idea how it’s gonna turn out for you.

5. Zen/Hyun Ryu, A God Among Men

Result: You have a good chance of winning, but at what cost?

OK BEFORE YOU LOSE YOUR MIND LISTEN THE FUCK UP. Why is Zen higher up on the list, Nani??? you ask me, pouting, clutching your Zen body pillow(s) in agony. Zen had a bad past!! He’s not easy to fight, he was such a bad boy!! v//w//v He’s so tough and strong and he’s our knight in shining armor! Hey!! Good for you! But GUESS FUCKING WHAT!! If you’re female, he’ll probably forfeit to you immediately, unlike the barbarians before him on this list, so technically he’s easier to fight! He’d probably LET you beat the shit out of him if it made you feel better. It’s not even a fucking question of who would win if a woman challenged him, so we’re gonna move on.
Now, if you’re a GUY, he’d be more willing to square up, and my advice is go for his face. Pretty boy doesn’t like messing up his pretty mug, and if you play dirty, he’ll get scared real quick. His ponytail is a disadvantage for him, so yank it real hard. You have a better chance of beating him with perseverance, but if you let him get the upper hand, you’re deceased because he’s probably a heavy hitter. Also, you will incur the wrath of all his fangirls, and probably the angels above, and you will spend the rest of your life MISERABLE AND CURSED, so proceed with caution. If you can get away with it without anyone knowing your identity, you’re golden. Good luck, but also, why? do you even want to??

4. Jumin Han, Mistah Trussfund Kid (The CEO)

Result: Instant win, but your life will be RUINED

Honestly, I think certain RFA members would actually be very glad if someone handed Jumin’s ass to him, but good fucking luck accomplishing that without having your entire life destroyed. On a purely physical level, Jumin is no competition. He may be the tallest motherfucker around, but he’s never fought anyone before in his LIFE. You’d probably only have an issue here if you were short as shit, and even then, go for the knees, amirite? He’ll fall like a fucking oak tree, and then you can rip him a new one while he’s down. Easy peasy, right? WRONG. He’s got a horde of like 50 bodyguards that you have to sneak past or defeat first or something. And if you somehow make it to Jumin first, they’ll swarm your ass after you first start swinging and have you incapacitated in a few seconds. Are those first few swings worth it? Maybe. But he’s gonna sue your ass for everything you own. The whole world will know your name. If you don’t get jail time, you’ll wish you had. It will be an easier life than trying to live in the public. Zen and Jaehee might love you forever, though, so maybe they can pull a few favors for ya. You better pray they do. Good fuckin luck out there, champ.

3. Yoosung Kim, Small Child

Result: Victory, but with a catch

Look into this child’s eyes. Look me in the eyes. Tell me that Yoosung isn’t a fucking pansy. You can’t, can you? It’s because Yoosung is a fucking pansy. This kid would be down for the count after exactly one (1) punch. He might enjoy it a little too, which’ll be awkward as shit for both of you. HOWEVER. If you trigger his Yandere side, which is bullshit but whatever, he might put up more of a fight. How do you do this, you may ask? Insult Rika. or MC. (Probably Rika tho). Something inside him will snap, and then he’ll be trickier to handle. He’ll probably play dirty when he’s like this, so expect to get shanked or bitten or something. It doesn’t change the fact that his scrawny ass can’t fight for shit, so you’ll still probably win, but not without a few injuries yourself. Hurting Yoosung is probably the moral equivalent to kicking a puppy. If you can be ok with yourself after that, then I mean, go for it.

2. Rika, the Antichrist

Result: Certain victory, but extremely dangerous

Look, maybe I should’ve put her lower on the list considering she’s got an entire cult following her every order. But, honest to God, you would be morally obligated to fight her. Please beat the shit out of her. Physically, her scrawny ass could do nothing to stop you. She’s ruined the lives of her friends, as well as countless other people, because of her deranged and, quite frankly, selfish desires. Basically, she’s a little bitch. I don’t know how you’ll do it, but god damn, you’ll be everyone’s hero. The downside to this is that she might sick Saeran on you, which is gonna be a pain in your ass, and Yoosung might hate you forever, but I think you can live with that, right? Do us all a favor. Fight Rika.

1. Jihyun Kim/V, aka Flower Angel Sunshine Man

Result: Total Victory, but you’re basically Satan

BEFORE YOU SEND ME ANON HATE, REMEMBER: this is a list based on how likely you are to win. And V? V would let anyone beat him. He probably thinks he deserves it. He might defend himself a little, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt you. Your victory would be almost immediate. There is no catch to V. You’d just win. But you’re a fucking monster for it. And you know what? I’ll beat the shit out of you if you hurt this man. So don’t even think about it, asshole.

It’s finally finished! I wanted to make this comic for the snap election, but if the Tories win I feel like it’s gonna be relevant for the next few years. 

I messaged a few of the spoonie blogs I follow to see if they would be okay with me tagging them in this. I got responses from @spooniediaries and @heyatleastitsnotcancer but I didn’t want to tag anyone else who hadn’t given me their consent.

Caption/script under the cut - please reblog and share. (Note: the captioning is reaaaaally long - it might crash your phone if you’re on mobile).

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D&D 5e: Shields?!?

image credit: Austin Hsu

Shields exist in D&D 5e. That’s about it. You can bash with em and get +2 AC with em, but that’s all that they do. That’s all the customization that they have. But what about the differences in wood and metal shields? What if I carry a buckler? What about my shield breaking? What if I am a simple weapons guy? Shields were hands-down the best options for soldiers in the middle ages fighting with one-handed weapons so they really should have more mechanics dealing with them. Here are some homebrew rules for shields to let more people use them and make using them more fun!

Some notes I couldn’t fit in any section: Shields went out of style as armor improved. People started using two-handed weapons around the same time full plate armor became widely used. The kite shield was used in a time when leg armor was weak or not worn because it was too heavy and unwieldy. The kite shield’s shape could protect their legs without exposing themselves to attack. Also those shields with holes for lances were largely ceremonial or for jousting tournaments only, not adventuring. Bucklers were the most common for someone who needed to be ready for combat at a moment’s notice, as carrying a shield was really tiring unless you were going specifically to battle. But hey, this is a fantasy RPG so we can do whatever looks badass.

Shields

  • Wooden Shield: +1 AC.
  • Metal Shield: +2 AC. Only creatures proficient with Medium or Heavy Armor can comfortably use a metal shield. Druids are typically forbidden from using a metal shield.
  • Wooden Buckler: No AC bonus. Creatures proficient with Light Armor can wear bucklers. Does not provide an AC bonus against ranged attacks. You can use your reaction to deflect an incoming melee weapon attack that beats your armor class, reducing the damage by 1d4. The buckler has a 50% chance to break when used in such a way.

A metal buckler

  • Metal Buckler: +1 AC. Creatures proficient with Light Armor can wear bucklers. Does not provide an AC bonus against ranged attacks. Druids are typically forbidden from using a metal buckler.
  • Wooden Tower Shield: +1 AC. You must be proficient in Heavy Armor and have a STR score of at least 13 to comfortably wield a tower shield. You can plant the shield on the ground to gain partial cover (+2 AC). When using the shield in this way, you only move at half your regular movement speed. The bonus provided by the shield does not grant cover against spell attacks. You have a -1 penalty to attacks while using your tower shield for cover.
  • Metal Tower Shield: +2 AC. You must be proficient in Heavy Armor and have a STR score of at least 15 to comfortably wield a tower shield. You can plant the shield on the ground to gain partial cover (+2 AC). When using the shield in this way, you only move at half your regular movement speed. The bonus provided by the shield does not grant cover against spell attacks. You have a -1 penalty to attacks while using your tower shield for cover. Druids are typically forbidden from using a metal tower shield.

Special Shields

  • Sticky Shield: When a creature misses you with a melee weapon attack, this sticky shield coated in alchemical slime can catch the weapon. The attacker must succeed on a DC 11 Strength saving throw, or the weapon becomes stuck to your shield. If the weapon’s wielder can’t or won’t let go of the weapon, the wielder is grappled while the weapon is stuck. While stuck, the weapon can’t be used. A creature can pull the weapon free by taking an action to make a DC 11 Strength check and succeeding
  • Spiked Shield: When you succeed at a Shove attempt when wielding a spiked shield, you deal 1d6 piercing damage to the target. Improvised weapon attacks made using the spiked shield deal 1d6 damage instead of 1d4.

A dhal shield (Indian spiked shield)

  • Mirrored Shield: Any metal shield treated with alchemical silver. When a ranged spell attack is rolled against the shield’s wielder and the attack misses, the wielder may use their reaction to reflect the spell back at its caster. To do so, the wielder makes an attack roll against the caster using their DEX modifier at disadvantage. If the new attack beats the caster’s AC, the spell affects the caster instead. 
  • Pavise Shield: A tower shield meant for archers to use as cover. It has either a spike on the bottom to be driven into dirt, or a hinged rod to prop it up. Creatures can prop up the pavise shield as an item interaction, or stow it as a bonus action. Once set up, it provides partial cover (+2 AC) for those standing behind it, and it does not move unless hit with a melee attack. You do not need proficiency in Heavy Armor to set up a pavise shield and use it for cover, but using it as a regular tower shield does have this requirement.
  • Tanglevine Buckler: A wooden buckler intricately grown out of vines by wood elves that can be used to deflect ranged attacks as well as melee attacks in the way described above.
  • Stonemountain Shield: A dwarven stone tower shield that requires a STR score of 18 or higher to wield. It can be used to provide ¾ cover (+5 AC) when planted on the ground. In addition, it is resistant to being sundered (see below). It has one additional point of durability.
  • Iron Shield: A metal shield resistant to sundering (see below). It has one additional point of durability.

Shield Interactions

Sundering: You can sunder an enemy’s shield with repeated bashing. You can attempt to hit a creature’s AC minus the bonus provided by their shield to target their shield directly. Each time you hit their shield, roll for damage. For every 7 damage dealt to it, it loses one point of durability. When the last point of its durability is lost, the shield breaks. This also makes it easier for creatures who deal more damage to sunder shields more easily. A magical shield cannot be sundered except by a magical weapon. Use the table below:

  • Wooden Buckler: 1 durability
  • Metal Buckler: 2 durability
  • Wooden Shield: 2 durability
  • Metal Shield: 3 durability
  • Iron Shield: 4 durability
  • Wooden Tower Shield: 3 durability
  • Metal Tower Shield: 4 durability
  • Stonemountain Shield: 5 durability

Group Tactics: Shields for the Romans and Greeks were all about group formations. Greek hoplon shields were held in the left hand and the hoplites would sometimes use their righthand neighbor’s shield to block attacks (leading the right flank to often win battles). Roman scutum shields were sometimes used in a tortoise formation to protect everyone from incoming arrows. Give shield-carrying characters adjacent to one another +1 AC against attacks if they opt to halve their speed and always move together to simulate this.

Example of a Roman scutum shield and javelin 

Javelins: So another point on Roman scuta: the legionaries would usually throw a few javelins as they made their initial charge. The purpose was not necessarily to kill the enemies (although I am sure that would be perfectly welcome). The intent was to get the cheap-to-make pointed sticks to impale themselves in the enemies’ scuta. Have you ever tried to hold up a 6-foot javelin sticking straight out from your forearm? Me neither but I would imagine it’s unwieldy. You have to either spend time snapping it or ripping it out or just ditch the shield altogether. Javelins in D&D, however, always have felt stupid. It’s just a basic ranged attack for orcs and goblins. Instead, have creatures just carry a few javelins and let them try to disable the PC’s shields! And let them do the same! To do so, make a sundering attempt (see above). If you remove at least 1 point of durability, the javelin sticks and the unlucky creature either has to drop the shield, spend an action making a STR check to break the javelin, or else live with a -10 move speed reduction and no shield bonus.

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➤ Character: Min Yoongi x reader

➤ Genre/word count: Angst, Future Smut/Mature scenes, Arranged Marriage! AU / 7,174 words

➤ Summary: He is the successor of his family’s business empire, and you are the female heir of yours. After the trouble his older brother had created in the past, he now must face certain requirements needed for the sake of the family’s future and to save his rights of inheritance, and you become his only way out. Everything might seem so simple, just the way they are supposed to. But everything isn’t always what it seems, is it?


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anonymous asked:

How about, in the dorms, they play the worlds biggest game of the floor is lava. Like, not even Tokoyami or Bakugou can resist the game simply because of childhood memories. They place cushions on the stairs so people can go to different floors. Just the kids playing the floor is lava

IT’S NOT JUST A GAME, OKAY. IT’S A FUCKING BLOOD BATH

there are no friends. you have no allies. everyone is out to get you, everyone is out to win, and they will sabotage everyone else in order to secure victory. 

quirks are allowed. because of this, Uraraka and Tokoyami are some of the hardest to knock out of the competition. Uraraka can just make herself float, or make objects hover and jump between them. she’ll cancel out her powers and cause whatever poor soul who happened to be the floating armchair to fall onto the floor. Tokoyami, of course, has his Shadow.

Bakugou, Kaminari or Todoroki take Tokoyami out first. their quirks are the worst match up for Tokoyami, and just like in the sports festival, it all ends rather quickly. 

Kaminari is often taken out fast. partially because he doesn’t wanna hurt anyone with his quirk. partially because he’s just. naturally clumsy.

there are debates about whether Todoroki’s ice counts as lava or as an object. Todoroki insists that it should count as an object because it’s ice, but Mineta and Kaminari think it’s cheating and should be counted as him touching the floor.

Kirishima is REALLY DIFFICULT to knock out because he can make himself hard and block all attacks. he’s usually one of the last few in the game.

Sero can use his tape to bounce from object to object. the only way to knock him out is if you body slam him, or cut his tape mid-swing. he’ll also use his tape to grab onto unsuspecting people to make them stumble and fall to their dramatic deaths. he’s great at knocking people out.

Aoyama is easy to knock to the floor. it’s hard to use his laser indoors and he’s not as agile as the others. he’s usually the first to go.

Mineta is goddamn hard to pick off. his balls stick to ANYTHING and sometimes he’ll just stick to walls and stay out of the chaos. he’ll also throw his balls at people in order to knock them off their balance–they end up in really odd positions, stuck upside down to the side of the counter, or sideways on the back of the couch. either way, they can’t get off and they’re forced to forfeit. 

Momo is somewhere in the middle. she’s great at making objects to defend or help herself, but sometimes it takes too long to make them and she’s knocked out before she can dodge.

Shouji is VERY HARD to knock off balance. but he finds it easy to take people out (in non-harmful ways; even if it’s a competition, he’s not gonna accidentally hurt his classmates). HOWEVER, sometimes his size makes it hard for him to jump onto the smaller objects and he’ll fall over thanks to his own weight.

Tsuyu is queen. she’s super quick and agile and able to stick to anything, and her tongue makes it easy for her to sabotage the others. she is ruthless. (tho she apologizes after every ‘attack’)

Mina has AMAZING reflexes and is hard to hit. she’s usually taken out by her own misjudgement of where she’s landing, or someone accidentally knocking into her. 

Satou and Kouda, like Shouji, are also very big. both have a hard time finding balance when landing on smaller surfaces. Satou’s quirk doesn’t really help him here, and he IS getting better with his balance. Kouda makes up for his lack of balance by sending bugs after people who’re trying to get him out of the game.

Ojirou is goddamn hard to knock off balance with that tail of his. plus, he’s a martial artist, so he’s got a LOT of balance training. he’s usually one of the last few left. 

Jirou is able to use her sound attacks to vibrate tables and the floor in order to throw off the other student’s balance. she is, however, rather easy to knock out b/c it takes concentration to use her attacks, and she leaves herself open.

Iida uses his engines to fly from table to chair to pillow, but sometimes the momentum will make him trip. he finds the game great practice for his control, tho he does get frustrated since he lost a few times at first

Tooru. Tooru is fucking HARD to beat because she plays in her hero outfit (or less) and no one can see where she lands. the only thing they have to by by are her little reaction sounds (from jumping and landing) when figuring out where she is 

and last but not least, Izuku and Bakugou. these two. these two are the GODDAMN HARDEST OF ALL THE STUDENTS TO BEAT. 

THEY’VE BOTH GOT AMAZING REFLEXES, THEY BOTH CAN MANEUVER IN THE AIR, AND PARKOUR IS GODDAMN THEIR MIDDLE NAME. not to mention they’re both SO FUCKING FAST that no one can ever knock them out. fuckers can dodge like no-one’s business, and it frustrates the entire class.

the game almost always ends with these two trying to beat each other. Bakugou gets especially pissed because Izuku learned most of those moves from him, so it’s like he’s fighting a goddamn copy of himself. 

they usually end in a tie. they’ll slam into each other and the’ll both get knocked to the ground. they also have the exact same amount of wins and loses. 

that doesn’t stop the other students from trying to win, tho. they wanna beat Deku and Kacchan because they’re so amazing, and with each game, it gets harder and harder to knock everyone out. 

Bakugou and Izuku actually love this, because it means more training and fighting each other at their best (well, as much as they can in a game like this)

Aizawa and All Might usually watch from the corners to make sure no one gets seriously hurt. they’re so proud of their kids, tho, because this training is so good for them. it’s harmless and great for honing reflexes and attacks.

also, they just love to see their kids improve. what proud dads

It’s All Fun and Games

Hey guys! Fred Weasley is just so wonderful, but all the games might get to be a bit much. I hope you guys like it! 

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader 

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing


Sometimes when it came to being friends with and dating one of the two biggest pranksters at Hogwarts was fun, other times, it caused you a significant amount of grief. Today was one of the less fun days. The twins had decided to play the ‘which on is which’ game with you. Generally, you didn’t have many issues telling them apart despite the fact they were identical. They acted very differently.

“Hey (Y/N)!” George yelled, tossing an arm around your shoulders. 

“Hey, George,” You said, smiling happily. Suddenly, the redhead stopped, looking confused. 

“No, mate, I’m Fred. He’s George,” He said, pointing at the other boy. You sighed. 

“I know you’re not.” George and his twin stood side by side with identical confused faces. You snorted a soft laugh. They exchanged looks before looking back at you with mirrored smirks. 

“Are you sure?” They asked. You nodded as you continued towards the common room. Both of them trailed after you, one on either side; each of them had leaned an arm on your shoulders. Upon reaching the portrait hole, you spit out the password automatically. The Fat Lady gave you a kind smile which you reciprocated, still ignoring the twins at your sides. 

“How exactly can you–” Fred started. 

“be so sure?” George finished. You laughed, setting your bag down by a chair. 

“I just know, guys,” You said, turning back to them. 

“Which one am I?” Fred asked, grinning at you. 

“You are my dearest Fred Weasley,” You said, pecking his lips. A smirk curled on their faces.

“Wrong,” They chirped in sync. 

“I know I’m right,” You said, taking a seat. The twins kneeled in front of you, trying to keep you playing their game. You just watched as they tried harder to make you wrong. 

“How?” They asked. You snorted. 

“The way you carry yourselves is different. Fred, you’re the more outgoing one. You talk first most of the time. You also tend to be the brains behind a plan while your counterpart is the enabler. George, you’re the more sympathetic one and you carry on a joke. Merlin’s beard, you two, I’m dating Fred and I’ve known you for years,” You giggled. They exchanged another look before disappearing into the boys dorms. This was not going to be good.


The stupid game dragged on for weeks with them only becoming more insistent upon one being the other until you began to avoid both of them. That only lasted so long though. You wanted to be able to kiss Fred again. When you finally saw them again, only one approached you as you ate breakfast in the Great Hall. The way he swaggered up to you, you almost thought it was Fred. Almost. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders again. 

“Hello, love,” He said, pulling you close. Raising an eyebrow, you pulled back. 

“What the hell, George?” You mumbled, shoving another bite of eggs into your mouth. 

“I’m Fred. Honestly, you call yourself my girlfriend. You’re as bad as my mother,” He laughed. You unwrapped his arm from you, looking around for your actual boyfriend.

“No, you aren’t. I can tell because my boyfriend kisses me good morning instead of saying it.” The ginger plastered his hand to his chest looking offended as you continued on with your breakfast. Finally, Fred joined you. 

“Maybe you just need to brush your teeth before I kiss you,” George suggested. 

“I have,” You said, calmly. “Hello, Fred.” It was now that you acknowledged the other redhead to your left. One more reason you knew that it was him. Fred always sat on your left. 

“I’m George, mate,” He said. You rolled your eyes. This game was getting annoying. 

“Would you cut it out? I’m getting really sick of having to explain that I know my boyfriend is my boyfriend.” They just laughed. Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance. 

“Come on, babe. There’s nothing to be ashamed of when our own mother can’t tell us apart,” George said, rubbing your arm. You slammed your fork on your plate angrily. 

“I can tell you apart. You two are just being dicks,” You snapped. Once again they laughed into their breakfast. Just then, an evil thought crossed your mind as you took a drink. Smirking into your goblet, you decided that, if they wanted you to play the game, you’d play it. Wiping the look from your face, you placed your goblet back on the table with a sweet smile. 

“Are you finally coming around?” Fred asked. You nodded with the most apologetic expression you could muster. 

“Yeah. I guess I just can’t tell you apart. I’m sorry,” You said, trying to keep the bubbling laugh down. 

 “Everyone makes mistakes,” Fred said, nudging your shoulder with his own. 

“Yeah, (Y/N), just take our word for it next time,” George said. 

“You are completely right, love,” You said, finishing off your breakfast. Standing, you gathered your things for class, but not before you pressed a kiss to George’s cheek. You watched as Fred flushed lightly with anger. 

“Have fun in Potions,” George said. You smiled, hugging your books to your chest. 

“Thanks, Fred. I’ll see you at lunch,” You chirped, turning to Fred with the same smile you always gave his brother. “Bye George.” 


You played their game for about a week and you could see Fred beginning to lose it. You hadn’t gone as far as kissing George on the lips, but you’d given him all the hugs, satisfied sighs, and special smiles that you generally reserved for your boyfriend. There was also the added bonus of seeing George look as uncomfortable as a person could look. You had only lasted about a day without telling Hermione, who was just as amused by the situation. 

“How long do you think it will be before they lose it?” You asked Hermione as you flipped the page in your book. It was just you two in the common room at the moment. 

“I don’t know. I heard them talking earlier and it doesn’t sound like they’re going to give up any time soon,” She replied, looking up from her book. You bit your lip and furrowed your eyebrows. You really wanted your actual boyfriend back. 

“Ugggghhh,” You groaned, “I want Freddie back.” 

“You could always give it up first, you know,” She suggested, knowing full well that losing was not an option for you. You glared lightly at her and she laughed. 

“Don’t even go there,” You giggled. She looked thoughtful for a moment before an evil look crossed her face. That look both terrified and excited you. 

“You could push them into forfeiting,” She said, ominously. You raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m listening.” Hermione leaned with a devilish smile. It only took a few seconds of explaining to reach an understanding. She was telling you to really throw yourself into this. Go as far as Fred would let you go. You ran your fingers through your hair, biting your lip. 

“At the very least, you’d win,” She said. 

“You’re not wrong,” You said, apprehensively. 

“Well, are you going to go through with it?” She asked. You rolled the idea around in your head for a few seconds before making your decision. 

“Yeah. It’s not like it’ll go very far anyway,” You said with a shrug. She laughed, patting you on the shoulder. 


 Fred and George didn’t appear in the common room until a hour or so later, giving you and Hermione a good long time to laugh about your plan. When they walked in, you went silent. Grinning, you waved at Fred, who waved back grumpily. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked. He plopped down on the couch and crossed his arms. 

“Georgie’s just upset because he can’t get himself a girlfriend,” George laughed. You gave a fake pout in Fred’s direction. Glancing at Hermione, she gave you a subtle smile and excused herself to go to bed. 

“Aww, don’t worry. You’ll find someone,” You said, punching him in the arm lightly. He simply gave you a sour look and you moved from his side to George’s lap. 

“(Y/N)?” He asked, reddening slightly. It took everything you had to keep the impending smirk off your face. This was so obviously George. Fred always welcomed you into his lap with a kiss and a good natured joke at his brother’s expense. 

“Yes, love?” You asked, innocently. You batted your eyelashes at him and intertwined your fingers with his.  

“Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to do this in front of my little brother here?” He asked. You giggled sweetly, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. 

“It hasn’t ever bothered you before.” You snuggled into the younger twin, placing the top of your head just under his chin and turning to look at your actual boyfriend. 

Fred had crossed his arms and locked his fudge colored eyes onto the fireplace with an ugly look on his face. Red was creeping up his neck and turning his ears the same shade as his hair the more friendly you got with George. The thought of beating them at their own game made you continue with your antics. This was also basically a guarantee that they’d never play this game with you again. They still hadn’t broken yet. You shrugged internally. You’d just have to push a little further. 

“You know, George, I think there are plenty of girls out there for you. Maybe try someone from the Quidditch team,” You suggested. Fred glared at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Yeah?” He snapped. You nodded, looking as if nothing were wrong. 

“Definitely. Angelina Johnson likes you, I think.” You felt George jump beneath you. 

“Really?” He asked. You glanced back at him with a fake confused look. 

“Is it really that shocking that she’d like your brother?” You asked. He cleared his throat, settling back into the couch and wrapping a hesitant arm around you. 

“Yeah, considering I got all the good looks,” He taunted, weakly. You fought down your smirk again. You yawned, stretching languidly in a way that always drove Fred insane. George swallowed thickly. Their reaction was incredibly similar. 

“I suppose I’d have to agree with you on that. Well, if you don’t mind Georgie, I think I’m going to steal your brother for the night,” You said, winking at an obviously panicking redhead. Fred’s eyes lit up with hellish flames that you’d never seen before, but he didn’t move. 

“I mind,” He grunted. 

“You had something planned?” You set your eyes on George, tipping your head to the side and leaning into him. This was usually the point in which Fred stopped caring if he’d planned something. 

“W-Well, no, but…” He sputtered. Smirking inwardly, you patted yourself on the back for backing them into this corner. The game would be over soon and you would have your Fred back. 

“Then there should be no reason as to why I can’t have him for tonight.” You pulled the uncomfortable twin to his feet. 

“(Y/N),” Fred said. His tone was blank, but his face was twisted in anger that might not have been apparent if you weren’t looking for it. 

“What, George?” You asked. He flinched as you called him by his brother’s name. He didn’t say anything, so you shrugged and began leading George to the exit. Usually, you and Fred would go spend your night in the Room of Requirement. Fred stood up, hands curling into fists. 

“Just wait a minute! You’re not going anywhere with my bird!” Fred growled, crossing the room in three steps and tearing his brother from you. It was now that you couldn’t contain your laughter. It began to bubble and spill from your lips; starting as minor giggles and reaching a total mess of shrieking laughter that you rarely accomplished without the help of the Weasley twins. Both sets of eyes rested on you like you’d lost your marbles. 

“She set us up,” George said, staring at you in disbelief. 

“You bet I did! Dear lord, you should see the looks on your faces!” You cackled. An identical pair of unamused faces looked down at you a tears cascaded down your cheeks from laughing so hard. 

“You did this on purpose?” They asked. You nodded, beginning to catch your breath. 

“What the hell–” 

“– is wrong with you?” They snapped. You snorted another laugh and wiped droplet from your eye. 

“You guys started it,” You pointed out. They shared a look before George nodded at Fred and left the common room, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Can you actually tell us apart?” He asked, coming closer to you. 

“I can.” You watched him as the anger faded from his face, but not his eyes. Not yet anyway. 

“Then what was the point of acting like you couldn’t?” He yelled. You laughed softly, taking his hand in yours. 

“Punishment,” You stated simply. He blinked at you. “Come on, Freddie. You spent weeks torturing me for your own amusement. It’s really only fair that I have my fun too.” 

“You almost shagged my brother to get back at us?” He asked. You shuddered at the thought. 

“God, no, gross. I was just messing with you guys,” You said. Sighing, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand. 

“This week has been awful,” He grumbled, hugging you close to him. 

“That’s what you get for being a dick,” You laughed. He glanced down at you. 

“Remind me again why the hat didn’t put you in Slytherin.” You patted his cheek, lovingly. 

“Because I knew this really cute redhead who got sorted into Gryffindor and there was no way in hell that I was letting him slip through my fingers,” You said. He held your hips. 

“Who? Me?” He asked, modestly. 

“I was talking about George,” You said. 

“(Y/N),” He said, warningly. You chuckled warmly, pecking his lips once. 

“Only joking, of course it was you.” Smiling, he pulled you up to him so he could give you a proper kiss for the first time in about a month. I’m so glad that I got that stupid game to end, you thought as you fused your lips together. 


“Sorry to interrupt,” George’s voice cut in. You pulled away looking at him. “Does Angelina really–” 

“Yes.” You said. 

“Wicked.” 

Just Remember

Alright, so, this is probably going to be my last Fic post in THIS blog, it will still be active, it will still post Voltron stuff, I just start posting the fics from my WRITER Blog, so everything is orginized and stuff :D

Anyways, I was having a shitty morning with myself so, I wanted to scream but I couldn’t bc I was in traffic and like, so many people around so I did the best thing: I wrote. 

Langst but also happy langst. Even Lance have these moments guys, they are valid and okay. 

Ps. Hope it’s not too hard or stressful to read? 

Disclaimer: Voltron dosen’t belong to me. 


Shiro’s disappointed glare.

Lance punches the bag.

Pidge’s annoyed roll of eyes.

Another punch followed by a kick.

Keith’s exasperated scoff.

Kick, punch, shout.

Hunk’s exhausted sigh.

Punch, kick, punch, tears.

Coran’s shake of head.

Tears, punch, shout.

Allura’s skeptical frown.

Screams.

Lance screams and shouts and curses. He lets it all out. He lets his words and shouts echo around as he falls to his knees in the middle of the training room. He hiccups as sobs shake his body. He doesn’t bother to wipe away his tears, he lets them fall to the ground and stain the mat below him.

He curses loudly and lividly for every part of him that makes him feel unworthy. He weakly punches the mat as he whimpers and his shoulders lose their strength.

Shiro’s disappointed glare turns into a concern one once he catches Lance’s weak whimpers as he cradles his own hand to his chest.

Frowning in worry, Shiro steps into the training room and takes a seat besides the brunet as Lance tries to hide his injured wrist.

“Lance, buddy, there’s no need to push yourself, I told you.” He reprimands gently, giving him a look when the brunet doesn’t allow him to get a better look of his wrist, “This training is new, you don’t need to be an expert the very same day you learn it.”

Lance sighs as he lets Shiro takes his wrist into his hands and the older teen inspects it carefully. and just hums dryly as an answer.

“Buddy, you’re already our sharpshooter, it’s okay to take your own pace as you learn to improve yourself.” Shiro says quietly after a few minutes in silence as he wraps Lance’s wrist in a white bandage, “You are getting used to the new form of your bayard, these things take time.”

“I know.” Lance answers softly, a small frown on his face, “But I feel like I’m letting you all down if I don’t learn to use it fast enough. What if we are in the battle field and because I still don’t know how to use or if I shot someone innocent or worse, one of you guys, by accident and -”

“Lance.” Shiro cuts off, not unkindly, “You’re our sharpshooter. The entire team and I have full faith in you.” He offers a proud smile at the brunet, “You would never miss a shot.”

Lance takes a deep breath as he let go of his abused lower lip. He sighs, wiping the thin line of blood coming from the corner of his mouth as he raises his head.

“It’s all in your mind.” Lance tells himself, placing a hand over his eyes to block out the light. “It’s all in your mind, it’s all in your mind. It’s okay. It’s valid. Just remember.”

The brunet takes a deep breath. “Just remember.”

He stays in silence for a little longer.

Pidge’s roll her eyes annoyed as Lance cheers in victory when the screen in the break room flashes the words of ‘Victory For Azul’ in big gold letters.

“Yeah, ok, you win this round, Mister.” Pidge says, shoving him by the arm, smirking when the brunet’s laughs, “I will win the next round, for sure.”

Lance chuckles as he raises his hand and ruffles Pidge’s wild bed hair. “We have been playing this game for like two hours, Pidge, aren’t you tired of me already?”

Pidge scoffs as if the mere question offended her. “Pick up your controller, Mr. Spanish; I’m kicking your ass.” She declares as she presses a few buttons and the screen shows the announcement of Round 4.

Pidge wins until Round 10.

Lance’s mouth twitches as his brain keeps filling him with the missing scenes with his team.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

He falls back on the mat and lays down, closing his eyes as he repeats his breathing exercise.

“You’re okay.” He breathes out softly, “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Keith scoffs exasperated as he watches his boyfriend hog the entire blanket in their bed.

“Lance, no.” He whines, stomping his foot against the floor, “Stop hogging the blanket every time I go take a shower.”

“Nop.” Lance replies from the bottom of the mountain of blankets, “You’re the one who wants to train so late, bear the consequences, buddy.”

“Babe!” The black haired man shouts annoyed and Lance suppresses his snickers as Keith’s pouts.

“Nope.” He repeats gleefully before yelping in surprise when a body slams itself from above, successfully crushing him, “Keith!”

Keith laughs playfully as he lays above Lance comfortably on his stomach, meeting Lance’s bright blue eyes easily even in the darkness around them, “Hi there.”

Lance snorts before he smiles. “Hello, hello.” He answers softly, reaching towards his boyfriend and Keith quickly meets him halfway.

“You’re comfy.” Keith confesses quietly against his lips and Lance laughs.

“Oh, hush.” He says as he smiles and nuzzles his face against Keith lovingly.

Lance hums quietly under his breath as his breathing goes back to normal after a few minutes.

He taps the surface of the mat he’s lying in with the tip of his fingers, following the rhythm of the song he’s humming.

Hunk sighs exhausted as he takes in the sight of his best friend covered in food goo.

“Lance, buddy, what’cha doin’?” He asks, fighting back the grin that threatens to appear as the brunet blinks surprised.

“Uh…” He starts, voice trailing unsure, “The mice made me do it?”

Said group of mice squeak at the accusation before Hunk accepts his losing battle as he laughs.

“Let me guess?” Hunks say and Lance nods, waving his hand as permission, “You tried to make my goo cookies?”

A pause.

“No…?” Lance answers, smiling innocently as some goo falls from his hair and Hunk shakes his head.

“Dude, if you wanted some you could have just ask me.” He says, stepping into the kitchen and wiping some of the goo from his friend’s hair and then grabs a clean cloth from the counter.

Lance pouts as he accepts the cloth and wipes his face. “I didn’t want to bother you.” He confesses softly.

Hunk snort amusedly. “Buddy, baking, food and you will never be a bother for me.” He reassures, smiling big and bright at the sheepish brunet, “Now, come on! Let’s do some baking!”

“I heard baking!” Shiro’s shout echoes around them as the leader of Voltron slides into the kitchen with a bright smile, “I call dibs on Lance’s biscuits.”

“No, no, those are mine, Shiro!” Come Keith’s shout as the younger brother jumps on Shiro’s back to fight him.

Lance and Hunk start baking, ignoring the wrestling brothers on the floor.

The brunet takes his training gloves as he sighs calmly when the door of the training room opens and closes and steps makes their way towards him.

He doesn’t need to open his eyes to acknowledge the warm body lying beside him.

He takes Keith’s hand into his own in silence.

Coran shakes his head and Lance’s face fall.

“Hey, come on, now.” Coran says as soon as he notices the brunet’s sad eyes, “You are doing great, Lance! You got 9 out of 12 correct!” He praises, smiling big and proud at the brunet sitting in front of him.

Lance pouts. “Well yeah, but still, I’m still nowhere good. I can barely understand it! I will be a miracle if I’m ever able to speak it with you guys.”

Coran’s face softens at the words. “Oh, Lance, the mere fact you want to learn Altean is enough. Allura and I are so grateful that you are giving us this small time of normality that allows us to remember our roots.”

He leans forward to ruffle Lance’s head. “You’re doing great, mikró ílio.”

Lance blinks before he beams. “Little sun.” He translates softly and Coran smiles back just as brightly, pride clear in his eyes.

He doesn’t know how long they have been lying there, but at some point, Lance’s humming had stopped but Keith’s voice had filled in the silence, singing softly and quietly under his breath,

Lance allows himself to smile.

Allura’s skeptical frown turns into a confused one as Lance points at the corner of the screen.

“Okay, I understand your point, but wouldn’t it be easier to create a distraction and then just take the quintessence?” She asks and Lance taps his chin in deep thought.

“Well,” He starts, “It’s an option, but remember that the quintessence is something real valuable to the Galra, specially to Lotor now that Zarkon is out of commission. Their guards have been doubled since out last attack.”

Tapping twice into the screen, the video of their last mission appears. “See? The room is filled with druids plus some Galra Soldiers and the occasional Supervisor making rounds. A direct attack would only put them in higher alert even when some of us are sneaking in.”

“So sneaking in from the start is the best option.” Allura muses and Lance shrugs.

“It’s our best shot.” Lance declares, smiling when Allura nods her head at him and smiles.

“Well, you’re our sharpshooter, there’s no way we’re missing this.”

“Thank you, amor.” Lance says softly, turning his head to meet Keith’s face and his heart flutters when Keith’s blue eyes meet his own.

Keith stops his singing to smile gently at his boyfriend, “You okay?” He asks quietly, reaching out to brush Lance’s bangs away from his face and his eyes turn tender when the brunet nuzzles his face against his hand.

“Nah, my mind is still being a bitch.” Lance confesses, turning slightly to drop a small kiss against Keith’s palm, “But you being here kicks its ass, so I will be.”

“And I will be here.” Keith says, leaning forward to drop his own his against the brunet’s forehead.

“Thank you, amor.”

i could be good with you

Summary: Cuddling up to Otabek has always been easy and normal for Yuri. So when Otabek starts avoiding him, it hurts a lot more than he expects. (2nd place giveaway prize for @some-sort-of-firefly !! Prompt: confessions and first kisses. otayuri. word count: 1237)


They’ve always been comfortable with being close together physically. That’s how it’s been, and that’s how it always will be.

At first, it was never the way Viktor and Yuuri are always draped over each other in public – god, Yuri would rather never step foot on the ice again than be anything like those two – but it’s more of the subtle things, such as Yuri wrapping his arms around Otabek during motorcycle rides, or Otabek’s hand gently holding the small of Yuri’s back as he leads them through the streets.

Then it started becoming, well, less subtle. Such as the multiple times Yuri has tackles Otabek in a hug after a long period of time without seeing each other, Otabek playing with Yuri’s hair and braiding it to different styles, and falling asleep together on the same bed, arms wrapped around each other.

For Yuri, it’s something natural, comforting. Nothing calms him down more than Otabek’s touch, warm and steady and easy to focus on when he’s starting to lose his temper. He’s sure that his best naps he’s had have always been with Otabek’s arms around him. Otabek is such a comforting presence that is now hard to live without.

As of late, though, he’s noticed that Otabek has been distancing himself from him, physically. Everything else has been the same, but Otabek no longer plays with his hair or takes his hand, or, well, anything. He’s been conscious with how he moves when he’s around Yuri, and whenever Yuri tries to initiate the contact himself, it only takes a few minutes before Otabek gently moves Yuri’s hands away from him.

It’s… concerning. And lonely, he finds out, when Otabek smiles at him apologetically that night and says he’d rather sleep in his own hotel room for the rest of their time in France for the Grand Prix Finals. He doesn’t get much sleep that night. And when he sees Otabek yawning and rubbing his eyes the next day, he knows he isn’t the only one.

So what gives?

Keep reading

There Will Be Blood

I didn’t know my face was caved in, but I knew it wasn’t good.

I knew it wasn’t good from the sound my cheek had made when it hit the dasher above the boards. I knew it wasn’t good because the referee had blown his whistle so quickly. I knew it wasn’t good because our trainer, John Wharton, had jumped over the boards right away to check on me.

I saw the blood on the ice, but I didn’t know the right side of my face was caved in.

My only thought was, O.K., this is a bad one. How many stitches?

It was Game 6 of the ’96 Western Conference finals against the Colorado Avalanche. We had to win the game in their barn to keep the series alive. The whole series was a bloodbath. To say “there was no love lost” between us would be an understatement. I rarely ever use the word “hate,” but I’ll use it here. We hated them. They hated us. That’s just the way it was.

Moments before, I had collected the puck along the boards and made a pass, and I was drifting backwards right by our bench. The next thing I knew, I got hit from behind. I felt my face hit the top of the boards. Everything went black for a second. I was on all fours, trying to get up, but I couldn’t.

I looked up at our trainer and he was blurry, but I could see this look of horror on his face. I’ll never forget that look. He put a towel over my head to hide my injuries. The last thing I remember is him and Keith Primeau helping me to my feet and escorting me off the ice to the dressing room.

Then I blacked out.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the dressing room, and looking up at our trainers and our doctor, and finally feeling the pain. 

Then I blacked out again.

The next time I came to, I sat up and the pain was gone. I didn’t know it, but I was on some serious painkillers. So I started trying to put on my shoulder pads so I could get back on the ice.

Our team doc said, “Kris, what the hell are you doing?”

I said, “What period is it? Am I stitched up?”

He said, “Uh … Kris, you better take a look at this.”

And he walked me over to the mirror.

The right side of my face was caved in.

He told me the damage: Broken orbital bone. Broken cheekbone. Broken nose. Broken jaw.

That was not the worst news.

I asked, “What’s the score?”

“It’s 4–1. Colorado.”

O.K.

Then I asked, “Who hit me?”

“Lemieux.”


March, 26, 1997.

Say the date to anybody in Detroit or Colorado and they’ll know exactly what you mean.

March, 26, 1997.

Exactly 301 days after I broke my face.

It’s hard to believe that it was 20 years ago this month. But if I just tell you the story of that brawl, it won’t do it justice. A 21-year-old reading this right now was just a baby when it happened. If they’ve only seen the YouTube videos, they probably think we were all a bunch of animals. But the reason things got so out of hand on March 26, 1997, is because of everything that happened before and after that brawl.

See, we have to go back.

Everybody involved in that fight had a story. For me, you have to go back to Career Day when I was in sixth grade in West Hill, Ontario. The teacher went around the room and asked every kid what they wanted to be when they grew up.

Doctor. Lawyer. Teacher. Veterinarian.

Everybody smiled and nodded.

When it was my turn to go, I said, “I’m going to play in the NHL.”

I was a small kid, so there was some laughter in the room. After school was over, I was sitting outside on the portable step, and I’ll never forget this as long as I live: This kid (who shall remain nameless), came up to me and said, “Ha! You’ll never play in the NHL.”

Just the way he said it, with such certainty, always stuck with me. I used it as motivation. I’d picture his face, and just the way he said it, and I’d think, Oh yeah? I’ll show you.

My mentality was that I was going to do whatever it took to make it to the NHL, and for the first few years of my career, it was a real struggle. I spent four years in the Winnipeg Jets’ system, mostly toiling away in the minors before they traded me to the Red Wings in ’93, just as Scotty Bowman was taking over as head coach.

So one night I’m playing for the Adirondack Red Wings in the AHL, and I score a hat trick. I come out of the locker room after the game, and there’s Scotty with a few Red Wings scouts. I had no idea they were in the building.

I’m thinking, Finally, they saw the hat trick. Now they know what I can do. Now I’ll get my chance.

The first thing Scotty says to me is, “Do you know how many face-offs you won tonight?”

Face-offs were just starting to be kept as an official stat, especially in the AHL.

So I said, “No, sir, I’m not really sure.”

Scotty said, “You won 19 of 21. Can you do that in the National Hockey League?”


Six weeks later, I got called up to the Detroit Red Wings. The implication was pretty clear. If I wanted to be one of Scotty’s guys, I had to grind. I was 5′ 10″, 180 pounds and I was joining a team with unbelievable skill guys — Sergei Fedorov, Steve Yzerman, Slava Kozlov, Keith Primeau, Vladimir Konstantinov, Paul Coffey, and a young Nick Lidström. So my mindset was that I was going to be the biggest pain in the ass you ever played against. I definitely knew my place. But I didn’t know my exact value until we played the Sharks in the ’94 playoffs. After we beat them in Game 3, I was getting interviewed by a reporter from a San Jose newspaper. After he finished up, he turned to me and said, “Hey, not bad for a kid who was traded for a dollar, huh?”

And he started to walk away.

I said, “Excuse me … what did you just say?”

He said, “Yeah, a dollar. Winnipeg traded you for a buck. Now you’re playing in the Stanley Cup playoffs. Pretty good … Wait, you don’t know the story?”

I turned and looked at our public relations guy, totally confused.

He said, “Uh, yeah, Kris. It’s true.”

I’m like, “What? I was traded for future considerations.”

He says, “Yeah, well, you know, when Scotty called you up from the AHL, they still hadn’t worked out the considerations, officially. So Bryan Murray called Mike Smith and … well … you were traded for cash considerations.”

“A buck?”

“A buck.”

Whenever somebody tells me I was traded for a bag of pucks, I have to politely correct them — because a bag of pucks would’ve been a lot more expensive. But I loved it, because the whole story just added to my underdog mentality.

We ended up losing that first-round series to the Sharks in seven games, which was bitterly disappointing. Then in ’95, we felt like we were so close to the promised land, but we got swept by the Devils in the Stanley Cup finals. That’s when the questions started.

A lot of people don’t remember this now, but at the time, we were getting a tremendous amount of heat for not being tough enough to win a Cup. The media was questioning the leadership of guys like Yzerman and Fedorov, if you can believe that. They were questioning the way our whole team was built. The implication was that we were skilled but soft.

So we came out in ’95–96 with a gigantic collective chip on our shoulders. The first two months of the season, we were on fire. With our speed and skill, we overwhelmed teams. Then, on December 2, 1995, we went into the old Montreal Forum to play Patrick Roy and the Canadiens. That night, something happened that changed hockey forever.

We came out hot. Roy let in four goals, then five, then six….

For whatever reason, they wouldn’t pull him.

Seven. Eight. They still wouldn’t pull him.

We were all kind of looking at each other on the bench like, What’s the deal here?

At one point, the crowd did a mock cheer when Roy made a save. It was ridiculous, because he was such an incredible goalie.

Finally, after nine goals, Roy had had enough and just pulled himself. Later on, it came out in the press that when Roy got back to the bench, he turned to the president of the Canadiens and said, “This is my last game in Montreal.”

Roy was traded to the Avalanche a few days later. That was the moment when the whole rivalry between us and Colorado got its spark. He never forgot what we did to him at the Forum. From that moment on, he took it to another level when he played us.

It felt like destiny that we would have to go through Colorado in the playoffs that season. And, wouldn’t you know it, who was waiting for us in the ’96 Western Conference finals? Roy and the Avalanche.

This is the part of the story where things get a little crazy.

Most people think that the feud started when I broke my face in Game 6. But it started way before that. From the first drop of the puck of Game 1, guys were taking runs, slashing, grabbing, sucker punching, you name it. There’s no point in even going over every incident. We did stuff. They did stuff. If you played in the NHL playoffs back then, you were not coming out unscatched. I’m not glorifying it, but that was the way it was.

Early in Game 3, Slava Kozlov rammed Adam Foote’s head into the glass and cut him pretty good. Later on in the period, Claude Lemieux snuck up behind Slava and sucker punched him in the back of the head to get revenge.

Our bench went crazy. And then the whole game went crazy. And then the whole series went crazy. Everything turned into a battle. We were battling over loose sticks from the benches.


Game 3 was the moment when the rivalry rose to another level entirely. We wanted to win that series so, so bad. Colorado was not a team full of goons. That’s the thing. They were an unbelievable team that had everything you could want — pure skill with Sakic and Forsberg, grit and experience with Lemieux, Kamensky and Ricci. And, of course, they also had Roy.

They had everything we had. They were a tremendous team, and we didn’t like them one bit.

So when I looked in the mirror after I got hit from behind in Game 6, and I saw my broken face, I was kind of numb.

But when the trainers told me that Colorado had won, and that the series was over….

I was beside myself. I was so disappointed.

The doctors advised me to stay in Colorado to have surgery right away, but I wanted to be on the plane with the guys. I wanted to be back in Detroit. So I draped a towel over my head and walked out of the building, and I got on the plane and waited for the guys.

My teammates didn’t actually know how bad my injuries were until they got on the plane and saw me. So they had gone through the whole handshake line not knowing my face was caved in. That’s the backstory for Dino Ciccarelli’s famous quote about Lemieux: “I can’t believe I shook this guy’s friggin’ hand after the game. That pisses me right off.”

I still remember sitting at the front of that plane with the doctors, and all my teammates getting on and tapping me on the shoulder and telling me it was going to be alright.

When we got back to Detroit, I was in the hospital for four days. I couldn’t eat solid food for six weeks because my jaw had to be wired shut. Having your jaw wired shut sucks, but it sucked even more in 1996 because they didn’t have all the protein shakes and fancy smoothies in every store like they have today. For the most part, I was drinking Ensure. Sometimes I got lucky and they’d let me have a chocolate milk shake.

I wish this story could have Smell-O-Vision, because if you could only smell a vanilla Ensure right now, you’d know how miserable I really was. But the worst pain, by far, was knowing that the Avalanche were dominating the Panthers in the Stanley Cup finals.

I couldn’t stand to watch. It’s still the only Stanley Cup finals that I’ve never seen a single second of.

As I was sitting in that hospital bed, I promised myself two things:

  1. I wasn’t going to let the hit affect me mentally.  
  2. It wasn’t to change the way I played.

You have to understand what hockey means to me. It was always my joy in life. I was a small guy to start with, and I made it to the NHL by playing a certain way. If I took my foot off the gas even just a little bit … if I was even just a little bit timid because of that hit, I wouldn’t be effective. I’d be letting my teammates down. I’d be letting the city down. The people of Detroit were in my corner every single day of my recovery. I mean, the response from fans was so overwhelming that I had to get two hospital rooms: One for me, and one to store all the flowers, cards, and stuffed animals that people sent to me. There was so much that I couldn’t take it all home. I donated all the stuffed animals to the pediatric ward.

Detroit is such a blue-collar town, and they love their Red Wings so much.

We had to get back to the Western Conference finals. We had to beat Colorado. We had to win a Stanley Cup.

I would close my eyes and picture the weight room and think, Soon.

As I was leaving the hospital, my doctor gave me a pair of pliers.

“Keep these on you at all times,” he said. “Whenever you leave the house. Whenever you go to bed.”

I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head, confused.

“If you get sick and have to throw up, you’re going to have to cut the wires to keep from choking.”

So I went home with my pliers and my cases of Ensure. It was a long road. I ended up losing almost 20 pounds over the six weeks that my jaw was wired shut.

I’ll never forget the day they came off. My first meal was at Andiamo on the riverfront in Detroit. I ordered the angel-hair pasta. But I still had to have these restrictive bands on my teeth, so I sat there eating it noodle by noodle for like an hour. My friends were on dessert by the time I made it to the 10th noodle, but it was the best feeling ever.

That was the end of June. I had two months to gain 20 pounds back before camp. Whenever I needed motivation to drink an Ensure, I’d just think of The Joe on opening night, and the feeling of walking down the dark tunnel and taking that first step onto the ice.

To be 100% honest, I rarely thought of getting revenge on Lemieux. It wasn’t about that. Unfortunately, Detroit did not feel the same way. It was like the entire city took the hit personally. When the season started, and I was back in the lineup, all anybody wanted to talk about was our first game against Colorado. But, as fate would have it, Lemieux wasn’t in the lineup for our first two games. The third game in Colorado got very heated — you could feel the tension — but the referees were on top of it. Nothing major happened. But you could feel the hatred building and building….

Right up until March 26, 1997.

When it all exploded at The Joe.

I pulled into the parking lot of the arena that night and a TV cameraman followed me from my car to our dressing room. Camera guys never followed me. They’d always follow Yzerman or Fedorov. That’s when I knew: O.K. Here we go.

You could feel it in the dressing room before the game. You could feel it during warmups. They were 3–0 against us that season. They were No. 1 in the division. This was our last game against them going into the playoffs. It was a huge moment.

But the game was relatively tame for most of the first period. Until….

Igor Larionov and Peter Forsberg, two of the most skilled guys in the league, got into a wrestling match by our bench. At first it was nothing — just a small scuffle. The refs came over to break it up. The building was quiet.

And then you just heard this incredible roar out of nowhere.

I look to center ice, and there’s Mac.

Darren McCarty, the guy who visited me in the hospital every day. Mac is reigning punches down on Claude Lemieux right in front of our bench. Lemieux’s helmet pops off, and he goes down on all fours, trying to turtle to protect himself.  

And then another huge roar — louder than the first one.

Patrick Roy leaves his net. Mike Vernon leaves his net.

They’re skating toward one another from across the rink, like a Wild West movie.

But then, out of nowhere, Brendan Shanahan intercepts Roy and they both go flying.


Next thing I know, Mac is dragging Lemieux over to our bench, as if to say, I told you I’d get him, boys.

Then Vernon and Roy finally make it to one another, and they start brawling at center ice. Not just tying up, but throwing haymakers.

In the middle of all this pandemonium, Marc Crawford, the Avs coach, is yelling at me, “You started all this, Draper!”

And then Scotty Bowman starts yelling at Crawford, “Don’t talk to my players! Don’t you ever talk to my players!”

When the refs finally got ahold of everybody, there were helmets and sticks and gloves and jerseys and blood all over the ice.

What can you say? You just say the date, and everybody knows.

March 26, 1997.

Exactly 301 days after I had my face caved in, my teammates stood up for me. We settled it. But this is what a lot of people don’t remember: For the players on the ice, that night wasn’t just about the fight. That night was about proving that we could beat Colorado on the scoreboard.

After the refs cleaned up the ice, there was still a game to be played. We were down 5–3 in the third. If we lost, and Colorado swept the season series, then the fight would have meant nothing. But we started chipping away at their lead, and we tied it up at 5–5 to send it to overtime. In OT, who do you think came out and buried the game-winning goal?

Darren McCarty.

We couldn’t have scripted it any better.

The brawl was one thing. But us winning that night changed everything. It gave us the belief that we could beat them in the playoffs. We knew we’d see them again in the Western Conference finals. We just knew.

When they dropped the puck in that series, the tone had already been set. The vibe was different. As soon as Lemieux turtled at The Joe, everything changed.

We beat them in six games, and I got what I really wanted — what I had burned for since I was in the hospital. I got the handshake line. I got to look every one of them dead in the eyes, and I got to shake their hands knowing that I was going to the Stanley Cup finals, and they weren’t.

In the finals, the Flyers were heavily favored to beat us. They were “too big, too strong, too fast.”

First shift. Game 1. Philly comes out with the LEGION OF DOOM. Lindros. LeClair. Renberg.

Everyone expects that.

But nobody expected who Scotty sends out.

The Grind Line.

Me, Joe Kocur and Kirk Maltby.

What a feeling. Almost exactly a year to the day that I was laying in a hospital bed with my jaw wired shut. Now I’m starting Game 1 of the Stanley Cup finals.

We came out flying. After finally beating Colorado, we were not going to be denied. We took Game 1 on our way to a sweep.

That first time you touch Lord Stanley, after so many years of burning for it, your life flashes before your eyes. Your whole journey plays like a quick film in your mind. I wanted that Cup so bad, for so many reasons. But mostly I wanted to prove to myself that one hit wasn’t going to define my career, or change the love I had for the game.

We won again in ’98, 2002, and 2008.

Now, we’re known as champions. But on March 25, 1997, we were called “soft.” Our leadership was questioned. Some people wanted to blow up the team.

Do we still win the Stanley Cup without that brawl? Maybe. But I know that it certainly didn’t hurt.


Over the years, Lemieux and I never spoke about what happened. He never apologized, and I didn’t need him to. They won Cups. We won Cups. Even if I didn’t like him very much, I actually respected how clutch he was as a player.

Then, a couple of years ago, I was at the 2014 NHL draft as a member of the Red Wings’ front office. My whole family was there with me — my wife and three kids. When the draft was over, we were waiting outside for a taxi to take us to the airport, when my wife’s face suddenly went pale. She was looking right through me.

She said, “Lemieux’s walking towards us.”

I wasn’t going to turn around. I didn’t think I had anything to say to him.

Sure enough, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around and it’s Claude.

He says, “Oh, is this your family?”

My son, Kienan, has watched every single YouTube video in existance of the Wings-Avalanche rivalry. He knows the whole story. So he was looking up at Claude with these big eyes, like, Oh, my God. Here he is, in real life.

Claude bent down and shook his hand, and my son just kind of looked at him in awe. Claude politely introduced himself to my whole family, and shook everybody’s hand.

And that was it. We went our separate ways.

I’m glad we had that moment. For everything that we went through during that rivalry, the beauty of our game is that at the end of the day, as (much older) men, we are still able to shake hands.

Now that it’s the final year for The Joe, people have been talking about their favorite memories of the place. We won two Stanley Cups in that building, and yet every time I meet a Wings fan, you know what they want to talk about?

March 26, 1997.

Those gongshow days are gone now, and it’s probably for the betterment of the game. But ask anybody from Detroit, and they can tell you exactly where they were when that brawl went down. Long after that arena is torn down, people will still remember that night.

It defined a rivalry, and it defined my career for a lot of fans.

But for me, when people ask about my favorite memories of The Joe, I always give a boring answer. And I do it because it’s the truth: It’s the Stanley Cups. The sacrifice it takes to lift one Stanley Cup is almost beyond words.

I went on to win four of them with teammates who I consider brothers. They can never take that away from us.

So, to a certain sixth grader in West Hill, Ontario, from a very long time ago, I’ll say it again: Oh yeah?

KRIS DRAPER 
RETIRED / DETROIT RED WINGS 

trick shot (m.)

;pairing — jimin/reader

;warnings — heavy drinking | cursing | oral sex | jimin being sleazy | hoseok being an asshole | lots of pool references | just adult things

;summary — jimin’s the bartender, you’re the billiard hotshot who frequents his bar and challenges him to a clean game of 9-ball after hours. “see if you can make this shot with my hand down your pants” au

;word count — 8k

part i | part i.v | part ii | drabbles

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Lava

Based off this video because I cannot stop laughing


It had started out as a simple enough dare, Dean and Cas would each get a total of 3 tries per person to try and “kill” the other by telling the other that “the floor is lava.” They would then have five seconds before they had to find a way to get off the ground and scream that the floor was lava to any unsuspecting passerby if there were anyway. There was no prize, not really. Dean just really wanted to beat Cas at something, and Cas didn’t mind if he got bragging rights.

Cas had been first, during a walk in the park between their two college classes on campus. “The floor is lava,” he’d casually said. Dean had not understood until he did, and at which point he only had 3 seconds left and nothing that he could use to get off the ground. Nothing, except, for a trashcan just up the trail. He’d made it with one second to spare.

“The floor is lava!” Dean screamed triumphantly, balancing precariously on the poor trashcan below him. He had managed to get into a crouch before the inevitable happened––when Dean went to get down back onto the ground and rejoin Cas he slipped and wound up wedging his butt straight into the trashcan. Castiel wouldn’t let him forget it for a week.

The next turn had been Dean’s, choosing to wait until Cas and he were on a grocery run to enact his plan.

“Hey, Cas,” he called the other’s attention while they were in the toilet paper aisle. 

“Hm?”

“The floor is lava.” 

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I’ll Keep You Safe // A Stiles Stilinski AU

Collab with @sarcasticallystilinski

Prompt: What if you had a countdown on your arm telling you exactly who you’re going to lose next?

Relationship: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Oral (Male on Female), Virginity Loss, Skinny Dipping, Swearing, and So much fucking angst. Make sure you have tissues ready. 

Word Count: 12,271 

Song: I’ll Keep You Safe by Sleeping At Last

A/N: This is without a doubt one of the best fics Hayley and I have ever written. Not just as a collab, but amongst our own works as well. We are both so fucking in love with this story and I hope you guys love it as much as we do. Words cannot explain how amazing and beautiful this fic is to me.

If you are the kind of person who enjoys reading bubbly love stories with happy endings than I must advice you now that this story is not one of those. Because I am about to tell you the story of two lovers so addicted to each other and so connected to the other that they cheated death itself — only to be struck by another wave of agonizing tragedy instead.

Y/N Y/L/N and Stiles Stilinski were the two greatest lovers time and the universe have ever witnessed… and that drove them insane. Jealousy taking over both of their features, the universe did everything it could to separate the two until finally time found a vicious way to win. How could they have known a force so much stronger and so much darker than the incredible love they shared had begun to take over?

It didn’t matter how hard they tried to fight back nor how much they begged time for mercy, their destinies were already paved. All they could do was accept its path and believe in the quote life had beautifully taught them:

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

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His || Jungkook || 0.20

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13 | 0.14 | 0.15 | 0.16 | 0.17 | 0.18 | 0.19 | 0.20 |

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bodyguard!wonwoo;

Originally posted by jeonfhan

  • for this sweetie’s bodyguard!wonwoo request!!
  • so, how wonwoo got to being a bodyguard was definitely not intentional
  • like he didn’t just put in an application and hope for the best!!! he was recruited by a friend actually
  • in wonwoo’s youth, he was always a pretty strong, tall kid
  • his mom would have him move the furniture whenever she felt like the house needed a change, or he would help the kind granny next door carry her groceries inside whenever she needed it
  • his parents were under the impression that wonwoo was getting all this muscle from being on the basketball team, which he was on (with good friend and basketball captain seungcheol) of course, but he was also working those muscles punching bullies in the faces

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Your favorite authors are being threatened...

…and no one wants to take it seriously. (by me, a RQ blog)

Earlier this morning, various threats to beloved NYT bestselling authors like Victoria Aveyard, Leigh Bardugo, and Cassandra Clare came into the light on Twitter.

It started with NYT bestselling author of the Red Queen series, Victoria Aveyard ( @vaveyard ) retweeting this photo of a threat she had received in hopes of getting Twitter to do something about the threat (this is not the first time she has been threatened/harassed on the website)

*the second photo is not Aveyard, she was not physically hurt

Aveyard’s response: “Well at least now we all know what to do. Torn bc they clearly want the attention but I also want this recorded and seen. Blegh. No apologies necessary, guys. The fault is not with us. Twitter needs to do better to protect users from serial harassers. This bleeds into the issues with stan twitter. We get threats like this, be they real or “jokes.” We can’t differentiate. We don’t know you. You can’t support women defending against their harassers while also perpetuating a culture of harassment for your own entertainment. We see you making snide jokes about our weight and our worth and our humanity so you can giggle with each other. It’s not great but okay. But a direct threat? Come on. You can’t do that & cry abuse when the person you are threatening to harm responds. Twitter isn’t a vacuum.“

Twitter took awhile to suspend the account, and at first notified Aveyard that “there was no violation of Twitter’s Rules regarding abusive behavior” which led to many fans reporting the account even more and tweeting at Twitter directly to provide better care against threats. 

Aveyard’s final response to fans: “Again, account finally suspended. But the person is just going to make another. Thanks for all the reporting, people. It means a lot.”

Aveyard later was defending fellow author Leigh Bardugo ( @lbardugo ),  NYT bestselling author of Six of Crows, Crooked Kingdom, and the Grisha trilogy, after ‘fans’ claimed Bardugo would “come after [them] with her cane”

Aveyard’s response: “Not interested in calling out people but definitely want to highlight how ugly this behavior is. What is the goal here? Where is your shame? …can we just acknowledge there is something incredibly broken if anyone thinks this is acceptable?”

Bardugo herself responded to the multiples claims on herself and other fellow authors about the ridiculousness of the level of harassment and how it indeed must be taken seriously, as well as why the authors are rightfully concerned.

Bardugo’s response: “This is some spectacular gaslighting. Let me explain the difference since you guys are creating false equivalences… and I do this knowing that there’s no way to “win.” You guys have decided that somehow, by calling out a vile threat, we’re the bullies. What were the consequences to the OP? She told an author “big b*tch, I’m coming for you” then threatened to corner her at Bookcon & beat her. A whole lot of people had to say, “Even if you’re joking, this isn’t okay.” Aside from just being cruel and ott… We have no way of knowing if it’s a credible threat, if the person is unwell and actually dangerous, or just a kid who thinks it’s funny. We have no way of recognizing that person or persons at a huge conference event with fairly lax security. I take no joy in making a kid feel bad, but that kid came with a lot nasty vitriol and you guys thought it was HILARIOUS. Zero empathy. If you think me walking around Bookcon with my cane is A THREAT and not, y'know, a way for me not to tip over… I’m not sure there’s anything more to say. I told Cassie I had her back and made a LoTR reference. Pretending you think it was a threat… God this is tiresome. If you don’t like me, if you think I might wield my mighty cane against you, I’m super easy to avoid. For one thing, I can’t run very fast #criplife. For another, you know what I look like and where I’m gonna be. I don’t have that advantage. And honestly, I shouldn’t have to spell this out. I want to be excited about Bookcon, about meeting readers… Not somehow having to explain how I have the right to defend myself or my friends if I’m VIOLENTLY ATTACKED… I’m sorry for the negativity. I know it’s a tiny fraction of the community who think this stuff is okay.“  

Cassandra Clare ( @cassandraclare ), NYT bestselling author of the Mortal Instruments was threatened by more than 3 accounts with tweets suggesting she would be cornered and beaten up at future book signings (referenced by Bardugo above).

Clare’s response: “A few people have asked me if I’m looking for tweets about this whole BEA/threats situation. I’m not, but of course my friends/agent/publisher are. This is a really serious situation. No one I work with think specific threats to beat the fuck out of him in a place I WILL be, is funny or a joke. I don’t go looking - seeing negativity online is nothing I enjoy. But I do get sent links because no one is invisible on the internet. I think there’s an idea that threats, etc are not threats if the intention was that they not be seen. And the argument that threats are "fan language” - no one has a lock on specific kinds of violent threats. Whatever the source we have to take them all equally seriously… I hope it doesn’t take authors getting hurt physically (more than they already have) for this kind of thing to stop being ‘funny.’“

An exchange between Bardugo, Clare, and a few random ‘fans’ pointed out some were annoyed at the authors for coming to social media about the threats

After all three bouts occurred, Aveyard retweeted the following message from  Brittany Cavallaro, NYT bestselling author of A Study in Charlotte and The Last of August.

Cavallaro’s response: "Ultimately, what’s gained by threatening authors online and at events, at assuming that a small window into their lives via Twitter…or that you ‘know them’ because of their books and so have the right to harass them or push into their personal lives…the end result is that you’ll lose that access. Authors will not do events. Will leave social media. Will take themselves away… Because right now, I’m definitely not writing. I’m reporting trolls and wondering how it came to this, why some readers think it’s okay.”

Queen Aveyard gave some notable responses to a few rude tweets about the whole fiasco:


As for Twitter and neutral fans who do not see these as actual threats, please realize that these beautiful authors are real people. Words hurt, sure, but seeing things like this can be terrifying, whether they’re real or not, it means someone at least thought about it, and you never know what can break someone. Not to mention that responses like this are caused by such silly things as who an author writes as a canon ship? That is utterly ridiculous and unacceptable. 

 Authors are now wanting to leave social media and seriously reduce the amount of response time to fans because of bad apples like these. Do not be one of these fake fans. The books that they write belong to them. They come from their imagination and expertise. It is their job and passion to give us these stories. We need to find stories we like to love and be okay with stories that don’t go the way we planned because they are not our stories. Threatening an author is never an okay route to go to get what you want. Turn those angry fingers to watt pad and write your own stories instead of pushing authors away from the internet. 

The Virgin and The Sex God: Chapter Four- Dean x Reader

The Virgin and The Sex God: Chapter Three

Summary: Dean finds out you’re a virgin and begins to try to charm his way into your pants. Little does he know he’s about to fall in love.
Word Count: 2,083
Warnings: Sexual Content.  Language.


Originally posted by frozen-delight

SERIES MASTERLIST

I’m so addicted to all the things you do
When you’re rollin’ round with me in between the sheets
Oh the sounds you make, with every breath you take
It’s unlike anything, when you’re lovin’ me…
From Addicted by Saving Abel


The twisted knot in your stomach let you know that this was a bad idea.  You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but knew that you would sure as hell be paying the price for being stubborn.   All the confidence you had in the motel was gone as you stared at the bar from the car window.  Dean had already exited and was heading inside, but turned around when he noticed a lack of your presence.  You jumped when he knocked on the window and you whipped your head up to glare at him.

“What?” You snapped.  Your voice muffled by the window.  Dean looked at you softly as he reached for the door handle.   You frowned when he did but made no effort to stop him.  When he had it opened, he reached out his hand for you to take.  Swallowing all your doubts, you took his hand into yours and allowed him to lead you into the bar.  

You yanked on your skirt as all the eyes in the bar seemed to be on you.

Making sure to press yourself closer to Dean when you walked past a group of leering men.  You didn’t notice the murderous look Dean was sending their way when they catcalled you.  Your nose wrinkled but you chose to ignore them.  Dean on the other hand was now turning about face and you had to reach out to snatch his jacket sleeve.  

“Dean.  They’re not worth your time.” You hissed as you pulled his arm.

Dean shot the men another death glare before he let you lead him over to the bar.  The old man bartender grunted when he saw the pair of you and grabbed two beers without waiting for you to order.  You smiled and thanked him before he turned away from you.  Yanking your skirt down, you climbed into the barstool.

Dean was eyeing you before he sat down. He had to swallow a moan when your skirt rode up to reveal your garter belt.  Flashes of pure perversion ran through his mind as he imagined your legs over his shoulder as he pounded into you. You turned to look at him when you felt his eyes on you.  Turning on your best smile, you reached over and grabbed his hand from the bar.

“Dean, we should play some pool.” You offered as you gave his hand a squeeze.  

He nodded as he took a swig of his beer.  His eyes never left your thighs and you smiled in triumph.

This was working.  You weren’t sure if you would be able to go much further with your charade.  On the inside, you were quaking with nerves. You had been on a high the last few days and couldn’t explain your own feelings.  It was like you wanted Dean to give you this kind of attention. When it had first occurred to you that he was attracted to you, it had come as a complete shock. Dean had never even once flirted with you and now you were in the world’s smallest skirt begging him to flirt.  The head rush from having Dean’s attention was almost too much.

Chugging your beer for confidence, you snagged Dean by the arm and pulled him towards the pool tables.  Dean followed you eagerly as his eyes glued to the sway in your hips.

You frowned when you noticed that all the pool tables were taken.  You knew Dean would be headed back to Kansas soon and you wanted to have some fun before he left.  Though you weren’t sure about that kind of fun.

“Damn. I really wanted to get in a couple of games.  I feel like we’ve gotten away from just having fun together as friends. Too much of this silly flirting nonsense.” You sighed.

Dean eyes darted to yours with the sound of disappointment in your voice. Your lower lip was pooched out and your arms crossed. You looked like a pouting toddler.

“God damn it, Y/N. Do you always have to be so damn cute?” He said with a chuckle.

You cocked your head so you could look at him. That smirk he had been carrying for days was back.  You also noticed the word cute kept coming up with him. Everything you seemed to do was cute to him.

You had always hated that word.  You were a grown ass woman. Women weren’t cute.  They were sexy.  As you watched a couple leave a pool table, an evil idea stuck you right to the core.  With the quick click clacking of your boots, you scurried over to the table in order to lay claim to it. Dean smiled as you seemed to dance with excitement as you grabbed the triangle to wrack up the ball.   He grabbed a pool cue as you finished up.  

“So… I thought we’d make this interesting. If you’re up for a bet that is.” You quipped as you grabbed your own pool cue. Dean’s eyebrows shot up as your words peeked his interest.

“What are the terms?” He asked as he sized you up. He had played a few games with you before and he knew he was in for a challenge.

“ Simple. If I win then you stay a few more days and we hang out as friends.  If you win then you get to take my virginity.” You said nonchalantly.

Dean had taken a drink if his beer as you spoke. The beer spewed from his mouth as he began to choke.  

“What don’t like the terms of the bet?” You cooed with a smirk.

Dean cleared his throat before he shook his head no.

“No.  Hell no. I fucking love the terms…  It’s just are you sure about that?”

“Well Dean remember when you said you were the only one that should have that privilege?  Well I agree…”. You mumbled as your cheeks tinted pink.

Dean shifted on his feet to keep from launching himself towards you.  Holy shit!  He just wanted to shove that little skirt up and bury himself inside your tight pussy. He shuddered at the thoughts of being able to take you to a place no other man had ever and would ever take you.  The fuck if he was ever letting you go after that.

In the meantime,  you were looking like the cat who ate the canary.  You had hoped that Dean would like the terms of the bet. Though, you had only played a few times before, it was enough to know that you were a better player. Your dad had you hustling pool since you were four and many a hunter had fallen victim to you. 

When you won, Dean would have to stay and all this silly flirting would come to an end.  You weren’t going to lose your friend to some silly flirting war, but first you were going to show him just how sexy you could be.  It was only fair since he had humiliated you in this same bar.  You clicked your tongue as you sized up the different angles and any possible combo shots you might have to take.

You smiled when you lined up the perfect shot and bent over the table to take it. An unexpected breeze made your eyes widen. You turned your head slightly and squeaked quietly when you found that the pool cue had caught in your skirt.  

You were both glad and mortified that Dean was standing behind you.  Knowing that he was getting a free show made you cringe, but also inwardly grin as it would help further your cause.  Your body flushed pink when Dean let out the most sexual groan.

Dean nearly lost it when your skirt lifted all the was up to reveal those pretty satin panties of yours. The little squeal from you had let him know that you hadn’t done it on purpose, but he couldn’t help but stare your plump rear. Though being a gentlemen, he quickly made his way over to help you with your skirt.  

His hand reached out to tug the fabric free but not before smoothing up your thigh.  You let out another squeak and shivered as his had stop right under the swell of your rear.  Sighing in relief when his hands finally left your skin, as the fabric from your skirt tickled your thighs once again.

“Uhh… Heh.  Thanks.”  You said with a nervous giggle.  You wanted to seem sexy, but all you were doing right now was making yourself look like the dork you were.  Dean smiled broadly at you before backing away to allow you to take the first shot. 

You were surprised when Dean gently grabbed the pool cue from your hand and you turned to look at him.  You couldn’t help but notice that Dean wasn’t looking at you but rather to the side of you.  Your eyes followed his gaze and your heart rate sped up when you found that group of men from earlier.  They were leering your way and you could actually feel Dean tense up.  

Then, before you could say a word, Dean had stormed off towards them with pool cue in hand.  You called after him but he ignored your pleas for him to come back.

“What the fuck did you just say?”  He barked to one of the men.  The man sat at a nearby table with five other guys who looked like they had walked straight out of the movie Deliverance.

“I said why did you stop the show?  It’s obvious your little whore wants us to watch.”   He said with a sneer.  

His words rattled their way through you.   The anger that flooded through your veins was poison to the mood between you and Dean.  
By that time, Dean had shot the man a warning to such is ‘fucking pie hole’ or he would be swallowing his teeth.  You stomped over to the group with a look that would scare the pants off of Lucifer himself.  Dean gripped the cue even tighter when the man eye fucked you through your clothes.  

“What the fuck did you just say about me?”  You hissed.  
Dean had turned to look at you in surprise, but smiled when he realized just who the hell you were.  

“I said, You’re a little whore that wants us to watch.”  He sneered in response.  Dean had enough at this point and let out a dangerous chuckle.

“You might want to take that back before I shove this pool cue up your ass.” He said with a dark smirk.   You watched as the group of men shifted under the sudden tension in the air.   A tension that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the bartender.  He had reached under the bar and brought out a shotgun.  

“That’s enough of that shit, Wilson.  I think it’s time you and your boys to pack it up for the night.”  The old man bartender warned.  
The man he called Wilson threw up his hands before speaking.


“Alright.  Alright.  Just having a little fun.  We’ll be going.  Come on boys.”  He said before motioning for the men to follow.  They all bounced up like train monkeys as they slid by you with smirks.  Dean pulled you closer as they passed and you leaned into him.  As Wilson moved passed, he grabbed your arm before either you or Dean could react.

“We’ll be seeing you around, sweetcheeks”  He said said with a wink.  Your nose wrinkled in disgusted as you tried to yank away from him.

“Let her go.” Dean grounded out.  The warning that sounded from him was raw and wild.  It made your whole body tense as the man’s grip on your arm tighten.

“If you don’t let her the fuck go right now. I promise the only way you’re getting out of here is in a body bag.”  He said as his own went to grab Wilson’s wrist.  Wilson’s eyes widen in surprise when Dean’s grip sent a resounding pain through his arm.  

Letting you go quickly, Wilson turned to scurry away only to find that he was still trapped there.  Dean’s vise grip on the man’s arm tighten before he breathed him a finally warning.

“Touch my girl again and I’ll rip every appendage you have off your body and make you eat it.”  He growled to the man.  Wilson visibly flinched under the threat while you flinched for another reason.

Did Dean Winchester just call you his girl?!  


AN:   :D  Hope you enjoyed the update.  Please let me know what you think and I’ll be back Friday with a new chapter.  I’m really hoping Dean isn’t out of character in this story.  :(  Just a bit of an insecurity.  

You can read all my work at my MASTERLIST.

Much Love,
Kristina

Tags are under the cut.  Sorry about that! If you want to be added to the list please send me an ask.  Sometimes tumblr is a cunt and eats my notes.  I might not see your comment.  :)  Also some usernames will not tag.  :(  Tumblr needs to get it together.

Keep reading

Next set of ten Sterek fic recs!

Supernatural Shenanigans Aside | @lissadiane | 3,754 | Not Rated | 2017-08-01

In which Stiles Stilinski accompanies Derek Hale to the county fair to keep the citizens of Beacon Hills safe from supernatural shenanigans…

Which totally isn’t a date.


The Jacket Was A Move | @LadyDrace | 1,913 | Teen | 2017-08-04

Derek is a jock and infinitely cooler than Stiles and his nerdy friends. That doesn’t stop Stiles from having a massive crush on him, though.


I’m tired and I’m wasted, irrational | LunaCanisLupus_22 ( @i-sveikata ) | 8,170 | Explicit | 2017-07-31

Derek reads the message twice just to be sure that he isn’t dreaming.

Help, it reads, accidntly kidnpd somr dudew

He takes a moment to compose his reply. What the hell Laura?

Or the one where Laura wakes him up in the middle of the night because she’s kidnapped some random guy from the club and it turns out he’s Derek’s mate.


A Tale as Old as Time | Leslie_Knope ( @leslieknopeismyspiritanimal ) | 5,931 | Teen | 2017-08-02

Derek wakes up 12 years later in a world where, for some reason, Stiles is naked.

Well, at least the sheets are comfortable.


Try Again | dragon_temeraire ( @dragon-temeraire ) | 1274 | Teen | 2017-08-02

Derek has to egg a house to be part of the popular group. Too bad the house ends up being the Sheriff’s.


Find Me Sitting Fireside | @kaistrex | 13,282 | Teen | 2016-12-17

With the news that an Alpha wants Beacon Hills for their own, Derek and Stiles are forced to attend a couples retreat at a ski resort to learn their enemy’s identity. However, the threat is the least of Derek’s problems when he’s expected to fake a relationship, share a bed and suffer through candlelit dinners with the man he’s secretly been in love with for the past four years.


The Epic Space Opera of Stiles Stilinski and Sergeant Spacewolf | A_Diamond ( @alxdiamond ) | 4,808 | Teen | 2017-06-29

Beacon Station is an extraplanetary center of research and exploration. Human scientist and minor disaster Stiles Stilinski lives there, as does the grumpiest alien ever: Derek Hale, the titular Sergeant Spacewolf himself. After a rocky start to their acquaintance, they’ve settled into sort of a love-hate relationship, wherein Stiles pines and provokes in approximately equal measure, and Derek grudgingly tolerates.

When a mechanical failure leaves them stranded together in the vacuum of space, the impending doom of almost certain death forces the truth of their feelings to the fore. Will our heroes finally get together? Will it even matter? Will they survive the danger?

(Yes, yes, and yes. There wouldn’t be a story to tell otherwise.)


Dancing On Blades | @tryslora | 28,266 | Teen | 2017-06-26

When Derek discovers that Mieczysław “Stiles” Stilinski–known for his YouTube videos of skating, not his competitions–is going to be at Nationals, attempting to make the Olympic team, he has to go. After all, Stiles learned ALL FIVE of Derek’s Worlds routines and posted video of each one to YouTube. He sees something in this unknown skater, something that only Stiles’s reclusive coach seemed to see before. And when Stiles manages to claim one of the three coveted spots, Derek makes an offer that Stiles can’t refuse: Derek will coach him to win Olympic gold. The hard part? There are only two weeks between Nationals and the Olympics…


Bloody Palms and Red Eyes | @rlnerdgirl | 4,017 | Teen | 2017-06-25

Having asked Deaton for advice after losing his alpha power, Derek finds himself approaching a palm reader, of all things, who goes by the name of Stiles and isn’t anything like what Derek is expecting.


Kidnapping Boys Doesn’t Make Them Like You (Or Does It?) | Dani Mahealani ( @derekczyslaw ) | 1,816 | Gen | 2017-08-06

“Hey, he’d be lucky to have you as a boyfriend. It’s just my job as your older sister to tease you.”

He looks up to see her giving him one of her warm smiles, one that doesn’t give him nightmares. “I don’t even know if he likes guys,” he says after a few moments.

“I can think of a few ways to find out.”

Derek’s eyebrows twist in confusion and he’s fairly certain he doesn’t want to know what sorts of plans she has in mind. “Just let me handle it, alright? I can do it.”

Laura gets up from her chair and comes around to his side of the table to ruffle his hair. “Never be afraid of asking for help, Der. You have a big sister for a reason.” She steals a sip of his Coke before heading upstairs to her room.

Not for the first time that night, Derek presses his face into his arms and groans.

or the one where laura and peter kidnap stiles because derek likes him

I'll protect you with everything I've got - Langst mini fic

Summary: Lance isn’t known for giving up easily so when he looks at his team and thinks he’s the most useless one, it’s no big surprise that he will do everything in his power to change that.

Even if it means he has to sacrifice himself for the greater good.

There are nights when Pidge’s headphones aren’t available for Lance. Sometimes it’s because they are uncharged, other times it’s because someone else is using them. Those are the nights when Lance has to make up for the lack of sound with something, so he usually ends up staring at the ceiling and thinking about his current situation.
Thing is, thinking is good, but thinking too much is dangerous.
It’s in one of those nights that Lance reaches the conclusion that he’s the most useless one in the team and nothing is able to take that idea out of his mind for days after. He sees Shiro talking with Allura about plans and strategies, Pidge and Hunk figuring out more and more about the mysterious alien technology, Keith training and becoming even better than he already is. And then there’s him, doing some unfunny jokes and failing at flirting.
A burden.
So that’s what makes Lance move from spending those nights staring at ceiling to spending them training with the castle robots. It’s hard at first, to trade his sleeping time for hours in various simulations, but he tells himself his improvement will be worth the effort. His improvement will pay for all the sleepless nights and for the pain of the injuries he collects.
He doesn’t talk to his team about it and convinces himself is because he wants to make a surprise for them and not because he doesn’t want to admit his uselessness. Maybe they were just waiting for him to realize so they could talk about replacing him with someone more qualified. Although space isn’t always the best thing, Lance doesn’t want to be replaced. He doesn’t want to go back and tell his family that he failed at something he was supposedly born to do. It’s better if the team doesn’t know.
But the universe doesn’t like Lance that much and after two weeks,Keith is the first one to find him
“Lance?”
It surprises Lance enough to make him let his right side open and of course the robot uses it to its advantage. Lance hits the ground three seconds later, a yelp escaping his lips.
“End training sequence.” He says and can’t help on how defeated his voice sounds. He looks up to see Keith staring at him, a confused look on his face. “Hm, hi Keith”
“You are…training?” Keith asks and Lance flinches at his voice tone. Keith speaks like he doesn’t believe in what he’s seeing.
Like he doesn’t believe Lance is doing something useful.
“Well…yeah"Lance says as his answer. He’s still on the ground, looking at Keith at an awkward angle. Stopping made the ache on his muscles finally surface and Lance wants to use every second he has on the floor to rest a little. “I couldn’t sleep”
“So you came here?” And there’s that voice tone again. Lance doesn’t quite know if hearing Keith talk like that makes him sad or angry.
“Yes.” Lance makes a movement to sit so he can look at Keith properly. His bayard has already deactivated, so he only puts it on his lap as he crosses his legs. “Is there a problem?”
They stare at each other for some seconds and Lance feels his shoulders getting tense. Keith occupies the position of most unpredictable person Lance has ever met and he never fails to honor that title. That said, Lance shouldn’t be so surprised when Keith manages to surprise him again.
After those few seconds of staring, a smile appears on Keith’s face.
A smile.
“Nah” Keith answers and the smile is still there. “It’s good to know I’m not the only one training a little bit more”
As soon as those words leave Keith’s mouth Lance feels a warm feeling going through his body and he knows it isn’t only because of the exercise he was doing a few moments earlier. Not that Lance is ever gong to admit that hearing those words from Keith made him feel good about himself. That secret was going with him to his grave.
“But don’t train too much” Keith continues and the smirk has left his face to make room for a more serious expression that looks a lot like the ones Shiro pulls when he’s explaining plans. Lance wonders if Keith heard those same words from Shiro some time. “You need your rest too”
“Afraid I’ll be sweeping the floor with your face in the near future?” Lance says but there’s no heat behind his words.
And Keith (Keith!!) chuckles.
“Terrified” The red paladin answers and the smile is back.“But for now” Keith walks to where Lance is sit and extends his hand. It’s a gesture Keith has never used with him and it’s kind of weird but Lance accepts the help anyway. “Let’s see what you are capable of”
Lance smiles at the invitation.
(They end up beating the levels 4 and 5 of the training program and this time Lance isn’t half dead when he tells Keith they make a good team)

For the next two weeks or so, everything is fine. The results of Lance’s extra training start showing and he gets a compliment from Shiro on his good work (Lance was ready to die from happiness) It’s a good feeling, to know he’s a good soldier.
Thing is, training with Keith is good, training against Keith is like asking to have his ass kicked. No matter how hard he tries to get better, Keith still wins. Every single time. And that’s not all. He sees Hunk’s aim getting better, the way he now manages to control his heavy gun like he was born to do it. (Maybe he was. Maybe all of them were born to be paladins. Not Lance, though. He wasn’t born for something that big.) He sees how Pidge can now come up with a plan in a matter of seconds, sees how Shiro uses a confident and firm voice tone to guide them through battle. Lance is good, of course he is. But not good enough. Never good enough.
All the useful things he has to offer can be covered. If he was gone, the team wouldn’t lose much. Long range fighter? They have Hunk to make up for it. Strategist? Pidge. The mood is bad and the team needs to cheer up? Both Shiro and Hunk can help. And then there’s Keith, who is better than Lance in every way possible so there is no need to elaborate things too much. The only things the team would lose for real if he wasn’t there would be his pathetic puns and pick up lines.
It’s only later that he realizes that actually no, those two aren’t the only unique things he has.
Thing is, Lance is tall, thin and has long arms and legs. He’s fast and he’s agile. His reaction time is on point. Sometimes, his body moves faster than his mind.
Lance is the perfect human shield.
The idea hits him like a slap to the face. Is that why Blue chose him? The more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes. He’s there to protect his team. To protect his family.
And that’s what he’s going to do, at all costs.