what shipping thing

Fanon Lotor be like

i am not even sorry just take this

5

When you’re under investigation and unable to act officially but you don’t give a f.. about UN’s orders.
Idk, I just wanted to draw theses two together.

Reminder that Voltron is not a romance

The writers do not have a requirement to put in any of your ships in their show.
Don’t get mad at writers for not including romance in a sci-fi kids show.

From SwConfession IG account and thought I’d share this and thought I couldn’t agree more with the anonymous confession. No matter our differences please respect one another and Ignore what you don’t like cause that’s holding you back on not enjoying something you like yourself

anonymous asked:

Will you draw jumin x zen ;w; ?

Hahaha yes yes these two are too cute together~


But I don’’t know if I should draw them cute…

– Jumin and Zen got shrunk… somehow (*°▽°*) –



…Or something more… idk… intense (?) \(★▽★)/


So I did both. ❤ ° ╰(▔∀▔)╯ ° ❤

i don’t have time for people whose response to other fans criticizing the content they’re watching is “go watch another show”

especially when fans are rightly commenting on the quality of the writing, animation, pacing, and execution of a show. no show is exempt for criticism, not even if it’s your favorite

The Bet- A Cassian/Azriel/Mor Fic

….Listen my dudes, idk what to tell you, I’ve never written this pairing before, never really felt that inclined to either… But they wanted to bang…so I let them. Bless my dearest, @pterodactylichexameter for betaing!! 

Title: The Bet

Summary: Modern AU, established relationship. Cassian, Az and Mor have somewhere to be and while the boys are up their sleeping beauty is nowhere to be found. Az comes with a novel way of getting her out of bed….NSFW. Sin. Much sin ahead. You’ve been warned. 

Teaser: Az’s dejected form isn’t what leaves their bedroom however. Instead, Cassian freezes in the act of raising his mug to his lips for a drink when he hears a soft, feminine moan escape. He waits for all of a second before the mug and half-eaten breakfast are abandoned and he wanders down the corridor to investigate.

Link: AO3 

Azriel doesn’t look up from the piece of toast he’s slowly, precisely, buttering as he hears the unmistakeable sounds of Cassian sloping into the room behind him. His boyfriend doesn’t stop walking until he crashes, albeit gently, into Az’s back, jolting him against the counter. His thick, muscled arms slide easily around his waist and he nuzzles softly at his neck, still slightly damp from the shower.

“Mm, you smell like Mor,” is Cassian’s dreamy idea of a mumbled morning greeting.  

Az comes as close to grimacing that he ever does at that. “I think I used her shampoo this morning,” he confesses drily, now tipping coffee into the mug in front of him. Cassian lets out a gasp of mock horror at this and withdraws from him as though tainted. He claps him playfully on the shoulder, “Good luck,” is all he says before he heaves himself up onto the worktop, his heels knocking gently against the cupboard door.  

A soft smile traces Az’s lips as he slides the coffee towards Cassian who raises the mug in a grateful salute after grabbing it before taking a long draught. “I don’t think I have to worry about it,” he says evenly, melting out of the way to let Cassian at the toaster and hob, “She won’t be coherent enough to notice for a while yet.

Cassian glances over Azriel’s head towards the door of their bedroom, slightly ajar, revealing the darkness within, then he snorts. “It looks like the lair of some fell beast,” he observes, casually swiping a piece of Az’s buttered toast and transferring it to his mouth. Az huffs but doesn’t protest, considering it a fair trade for the half a pack of bacon Cassian has just slapped into a pan.  

Az makes a business of checking his watch, “At this time of the morning you’re not far wrong,” he murmurs, ambling to the fridge and pulling out eggs which he lays on the counter within easy reach of Cassian’s broad, deft hands.

Cass snorts at that assessment, barely even looking at what he’s doing as he cracks the eggs and transfers them to a bowl to whisk them up, “How long do we have before we need to leave?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“A few hours yet,” Az replies mildly, taking a small sip of his own coffee, “But she should get up now.”

Cassian snorts again, “You expect her to manage that without some sort of encouragement?” he demands, “Waking Mor up at this time is like waking the dead, we’d have an easier time finding a new girlfriend at the graveyard.”  

Az just smiles at that, watching his boyfriend work, “Mm, I’m quite fond of this one, as it happens,” he murmurs quietly.

He’s fully aware that he already has a plan to deal with their…situation. Cassian never eats his eggs scrambled this way, and his bacon is always half raw. Sure enough, a few moments later, tipping the eggs into a frying pan, Cass grins, “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he says affectionately, leaning over and kissing Az on the cheek even as he rolls his eyes at the petname, ”I have just the thing. She’ll be up in a minute, all bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

 It’s Az’s turn to snort at that. Of the three of them, Cass is the one most likely to tend towards optimism but even by his standards that’s stretching the bounds of belief. “Okay fine, she’ll be conscious,” he amends irritably before waggling a spatula threateningly in Az’s direction, “you get to take over from there.”

“If you actually manage to get her up I’ll take over from there,” he promises faithfully, taking another idle sip of his coffee.  

“Ha,” Cass grins, “Just you wait, Az, she can never resist my cooking. Ever.” He reaches past him and swipes the large ‘princess’ mug out of the cupboard, filling it with coffee from the pot before dumping in a small mountain of sugar and half of their milk reserves into it with his customary grimace that anyone would dare besmirch the good name of coffee the way that Mor does.

Azriel just hums as Cassian starts to load Mor’s breakfast onto a tray, leaning against the worktop, saying nothing. As he starts to leave the room however, Mor’s breakfast arranged in the shape of a smiley face with tomato eyes, a bacon mouth, scrambled egg hair and a spikey toast hat however, Az dips down and presses a soft kiss to his lips, “Good luck,” he murmurs.

Cassian waves an airy hand, “Oh ye of little faith!” he huffs irritably as he sets off in the direction of their bedroom.  

Azriel waits patiently and he and his lack of faith are rewarded by a Cassian stomping out of the room five minutes later, caught somewhere between astonishment and dejection, resolutely munching a piece of Mor’s toast. “Unbelievable,” he grumbles, looking sincerely crestfallen. “She’s made of stone, Az, we’re dating a statute, I hope you know that.”

Az just smiles as Cassian helps himself to some of Mor’s eggs, clearly lamenting their wasteful scrambling. “That was never going to work,” he says smoothly.

Cassian lets out a good natured growl, now eating a piece of Mor’s bacon with his fingers. He brandishes it at Az, “I bet you a tenner you can’t get her out of bed before I can.”

Cass watches as Azriel considers this, can practically hear the cogs turning in that mysterious, shadowed brain of his. Finally, with a decisive little nod, he sets down his piece of toast and says, “Deal,” before padding towards their bedroom.  

Blinking, slightly startled by this sudden turn of events he calls after him, “On this try mind you!” Az just vaguely nods his agreement, gently pushing open the door at the end of the corridor. What a well meaning idiot, Cassian muses with a shake of the head, happily stuffing one of Mor’s tomatoes into his mouth. She doesn’t know what she’s missing, this breakfast was up to his finest high standards, but Az is taking part in a truly hopeless mission. Fire-breathing dragons would have been easier and safer to approach than their Morrigan this morning.

Cassian waits, shovelling down more of Mor’s bacon with what Az would probably consider indecent enthusiasm. Mor would understand though, he has to give this breakfast a proper funeral, worthy of her approval. He expects to see Az slinking back to him, defeated, rummaging irritably in his jeans for his wallet to offer him the spoils of his victory. He freezes, another piece of toast halfway to his mouth, loaded with scrambled eggs and dread – if Azriel fails in this task it’ll be his turn to rouse Mor again…He contemplates this for a few seconds then shovels the toast and egg into his mouth, deciding it’ll be worth it. His boyfriend had been so achingly sure of himself and while Cass doesn’t think that Az’s ego needs to be deflated any more than it already is, on the other hand he really does like the idea of him coughing up the bet money.  

Cassian waits some more, still devouring Mor’s breakfast, feeling a slight pang of worry for Az. In her current state, well aimed pillows might just be lethal, and he’s quite fond of Az’s pretty face…He decides to give it a few more minutes before launching an emergency rescue operation. Any second now he’s going to have to kiss that small frown from his beautiful face, console him even as he delightedly accepts his winnings.  

Az’s dejected form isn’t what leaves their bedroom however. Instead, Cassian freezes in the act of raising his mug to his lips for a drink when he hears a soft, feminine moan escape. He waits for all of a second before the mug and half-eaten breakfast are abandoned and he wanders down the corridor to investigate.

Gently pushing open the door, decorated with Az’s careful, neat lettering of their names (Cassian’s idea) and the small stick figures in the top left corner, (a drunken Mor’s contribution) he pauses to properly drink in the scene. Azriel is kneeling on the floor at the side of their bed, Mor’s long, golden legs hooked over his shoulders, his head buried between them. Mor is arching in pleasure, another faint moan spilling from her open lips as her body bows from the bed. Her hands fist the crisp white sheets, clutching at them as Az teases her with his tongue.  

Keep reading

*Ragnarök calls* New squad who dis

Dying Embers- A Nessian Fic

Written for an anon from the angst prompt list I reblogged. I’m just trying to rattle through all these to get me writing so this wasn’t planned or beta read I just kind of…threw it at a screen and now it’s here. But I hope you like it. 

Title: Dying Embers

Summary: Prompt: ‘Remember when you promised we’d always be together? Because I remember when I thought you meant it.” ACOWAR, after the War but still early in their relationship, the pressures of Nesta’s transformation cripple her relationship with Cassian. 

Teaser:  There’s nothing to stop him as he strides past her, yanks open the door, and vanishes out into the swirling snow beyond. Nothing but her. And she says nothing, the words sticking in her tight throat. When she opens the bond to reach him, to try and communicate with him through that no matter how much it will hurt to feel his anger and anguish, she finds that she can’t reach him. He’s shut her out from his side and no amount of screaming and hammering on it will convince him to yield to her.

Link: AO3 

“Remember when you promised we’d always be together? Because I remember when I thought you meant it.” Cassian’s voice is cold and hard as he bites those words out, seconds before she’s stepped through the door from outside. His words sting far more than the sudden flare of heat contrasted with the frozen chill outside their house. 

On the word ‘promise’ the bond between them burns, almost angrily, inside her chest, reminding her of that promise. She opens her mouth to tell him that she has no idea what he’s talking about and then…The letter he’d been holding when she walked in drops to the table and she understands. She understands the words, the venom in them. She understands the way that he’s looking at her, those hazel eyes of his usually so soft and tender now hard and cold and dark, chips of stone in his face. 

The instinct she expects to come, the rising fury she anticipates to come to her aid, to demand to know what he was doing reading her personal letters in the first place, berate him on that, start an argument that has them screaming two different accusations at one another, never listening, never responding to the other- doesn’t come. It doesn’t even threaten. It’s…Gone. 

That anger she had clung to like a crutch all those years in the cottage after her mother’s death is no more. The rage that had dragged her through this transformation a year ago and the war that followed is just…gone. Like a candle snuffed out by a thoughtless breath. It had been the only thing to still give her light, the only thing to keep her going and now… 

The war, the second war, had ended four months ago. She and Cassian had accepted the mating bond during it. It had been then she had made her promise, the eve of the first battle they had both taken part in, that they would always be together. No matter what this war through at them, no matter what they had to endure they would endure it together, and never be parted. She hadn’t even made it a year without ruining this for them. 

The anger still won’t come, the indignation, the desire to spit in his face and tell him what an idiot he is to ever think that but…But it won’t come. Without it she feels lost. She had hated it in the cottage, this one wild part of her that no matter how she had tried she had never been able to tame. Her will had kept her alive all those years, pulled her through her grief at losing her mother, at losing everything, had helped her resist High Lord’s magic and King’s decrees and the Making that had broken her instead had not been enough to control that fire. She had wanted it leashed, had wanted to be able to command it and have it obey her and it had refused. At every turn it had refused. 

She had never thought that she might some day miss it. She had never truly considered what might happen if she’d been able to control it, smother it, silence it. She knows now. The silence that echoes through the hollows of her desolate self tells her well enough what that anger was keeping her from becoming. An empty shell, a ghost trapped in this new body, still breathing, still living but…Dead to all other purposes. 

She has never felt so lost, so utterly adrift and alone. There have been times she should have felt like this, times she should have and none of them look like this, settled in a home she owns with her mate, with the man she loves more than any other; more than she’d ever thought possible. She should be happy here, they have peace, they have a beautiful home, they have each other. She should be happy and yet….

Cassian waits, staring at her, with an odd expression on his face she can’t quite read. Not desperation or hope or grief just…Sadness. Shifting into resignation. He shakes his head, finally dropping her gaze, and somehow that hurts more than the cutting words and the burning stare, that absence of anything, and she has an inkling of how he feels. 

His wings flare slightly behind him in a movement that she’s learned to interpret. She had been surprised at how much of the Illyrian’s body language was connected to their wings, though she supposed she shouldn’t have been, it had been something she’d forced herself to learn to help her read him and understand him. What he feels now…is trapped. He wants to get out, to fly, away from this, away from her. He can’t. Not yet. His wings aren’t strong enough for that but…

There’s nothing to stop him as he strides past her, yanks open the door, and vanishes out into the swirling snow beyond. Nothing but her. And she says nothing, the words sticking in her tight throat. When she opens the bond to reach him, to try and communicate with him through that no matter how much it will hurt to feel his anger and anguish, she finds that she can’t reach him. He’s shut her out from his side and no amount of screaming and hammering on it will convince him to yield to her. 

Nesta slides down the wall at her back, crumpling into a small heap on the floor, unable to summon even the energy to weep. 

Keep reading

3

“We break the line with stroke and luck,
The arrows run like rain,
If you be struck, or I be struck,
There’s one to strike again.
If you befriend, or I befriend,
The strength is in us twain,
And good things end and bad things end,
And you and I remain.” 

– “A Marriage Song” by G. K. Chesterton

Honestly though the Lego movies’ version of the Batman universe is the straight-up best and I will not hear otherwise