where he says hes not good enough

echo-from-the-void  asked:

I wonder when Ishida will focus on the aftereffects of Urie`s transformation to a full ghoul? Since he two kakugans and commented about a strange feeling as he woke up after Saiko rescued him, I think some change has happened? Maybe sensei is just waiting for the perfect moment, where giving spotlight for his change will cause the most amount of torment for us. D:

oh yeah, I hope so! I’m sure it’ll come up at some point. 

I think his weird feeling had to do with Saiko saying she loved him, though. The two times he went overboard with his kagune, he was babbling on and on about not being good enough near Mutsuki; “look at me look at me look at me” with Saiko.

Much of his character revolves around losing his father when he was young and (presumably) no longer getting the love and attention he needed as a child. He angled all of his strength at getting promoted to the top of the CCG so that he could avenge Mikito’s death, but somewhere along the way it turned into a complex of worthlessness. 

So, being comforted by both Mutsuki and Saiko was a little knock on the head. He already had a crush on Mutsuki, so maybe this was an odd little shift where he contemplated the love he felt for Saiko, too. 

Anyway, yeah. I’m feeling uneasy about the exchange he and Mutsuki had at the wedding. You could practically hear Urie’s heart shattering, but it’s not like he’s just going to say “oh well” and let it go. I’m sure his framed-out kagune will make an appearance again, and I can only cross my fingers that it ends well :’(

anonymous asked:

I'm kind of confused did Mute and Bonnie break up or did something else happen...

bonnie broke up with mute. mute feels that because he was not good enough for her that he he hates himself, he forgives her for leaving him as he will respect her for what she wants. but he is extremely hates him self, to the point where right now he is sitting in the room and his back is on fire right now. in his mind the pain is helping him forget about bonnie, as I guess you can say, hes trying to make a tougher skin out of this broken relationship.

Voltron Season 3

Okay, so, I can’t be the only one that doesn’t want Keith to lead Voltron in the beginning of season 3–at least, not easily at all. How much effort has been put into Keith and Shiro bonding with their lions aside, it just seems like a really, really bad idea for the team dynamic. 

Which I guess might be the whole point. If Keith does try to lead Voltron, I want it to go really, really badly. I want Red pissed at him and I want Black frustrated with the whole thing. I want them unable to form Voltron. I want Keith saying he’s gonna lead and Lance flipping his shit. But then Keith says “well, Shiro said he wanted me to do it!” And while this kind of shuts everyone up on the subject, tension is high (especially when every time Lance tries to say something, Keith shuts him down). 

I want Keith to be solely focused on rescuing Shiro, to the point where it’s a hinderance. Because, c’mon, ya’ll know he would be. While Keith isn’t selfish in his intentions (as he accused Pidge of being in the beginning of season 1), he can be in his actions. He’s always the first one to go off on his own, act rashly, and end up in battles he shouldn’t be facing alone. 

Keith is a loner and hasn’t yet learned to connect with his teammates enough to be a good leader. The only character he has a semi strong bond with is Shiro. And as he lacks the supportive leadership skills that Shiro has, it stands to reason that he’s not going to be very good at understanding his teammates. While in a battle he may know what needs to be done, he doesn’t know how to deal with people. His social obliviousness has been made clear multiple times. 

That aside, if we’re going to be changing the lions around, who’s taking over the spare lion? Is it Allura? Coran? And which lion is getting the switch? Why isn’t Allura getting the black lion and being the one in charge (this is how it should be, by all rights)? Maybe she will, we don’t know. 

BUT if she doesn’t–if Keith ends up in charge–it shouldn’t stick. There’s no way in hell Lance would rally behind Keith. Not with how poorly Keith will handle the team dynamics. It will fester, as will the fact that Shiro decided to put Keith in charge in his absence instead of someone else. And through Lance it will make Hunk and Pidge uncertain. 

I see them looking for Shiro and getting a distress call, but Keith wanting to ignore it in favor of looking for Shiro. Allura will have issues with this, but so will Hunk. After his reaction to the Balmera, you think he’d be okay with not trying to save enslaved peoples on their way through? Bad feelings begin to fester.  

They’ll find leads on Pidge’s family, but Keith will, again, want to focus solely on Shiro, feeding Pidge some bull about them being able to more efficiently look for her family after they find Shiro (look at how he reacted in season 1–you know that’s what he’d say). Again, bad feelings will fester. 

Until, finally, Lance loses it with Keith “bossing” everyone around, even if that wasn’t Keith’s intention (likely, Keith thinks he’s doing the right thing). They’ll get into a huge fight, Hunk and Pidge both agreeing with Lance’s points about Keith’s behavior. 

Keith will be frustrated. He feels out of place in the black lion and like he’s trying to fill shoes that are far, far too big for him (because they are). But he also feels like the others aren’t seeing the big picture. They have to find Shiro because they can’t save the universe without him. That should be their priority number one, in his mind. So you know what he does? In typical Keith fashion, he decides to deal with the situation on his own. He goes back to Red (if he’d ever left her in the first place) and leaves

He’s gonna find Shiro, even if he has to do it on his own. 

Thus, Team Voltron falls even more to shambles. 

Upon learning that Keith has left, Lance tries to remain bitter, but the guilt gnaws at him. While Lance does have the people skills that Keith lacks and could step up to the plate, his lack of self-esteem (because Lance’s confidence is about as thick as tissue paper) doesn’t allow him to do it. After all, he’s the jokester, the idiot, the one no one takes seriously. And he soon comes to believe that Keith leaving is his fault. 

So you know what he does? He goes after Keith. 

Which leaves Hunk and Pidge as the only lions left at the castle. This allows for two things–it allows Hunk and Pidge to stretch their legs in leadership positions as well as give the two the chance to form relationships with Allura and Coran. After all, Hunk wanted to be the head. Well, here’s his chance whether he wants it or not. Hunk being Hunk, however, wants to keep what little of the team is left together. Pidge was thinking of leaving too, to go look for her family, but Hunk stops her. He promises her they’ll look, explaining that going solo is only going to get them all into deeper trouble. Therefore, it becomes Hunk’s personal mission, and the heavy, heavy weight on his shoulders, to get the team back together. They go off in the direction they think Lance and Keith may have gone, answering any and all distress calls along the way. They get clues as to the locations of their friends, about the Galra, and make friendly with all kinds of peoples, even some that Allura probably doesn’t approve of. 

Because Allura’s arc will be her dealing with her own prejudice as well as the loss of her team and what she views as a failure on her part. However, Hunk is the perfect person to help rebuild her and get her back on the right track. 

Ultimately, it’s Hunk and Pidge, with Allura and Coran, that end up finding and saving Shiro. This is their big victory, so to speak, and goes very, very far in developing Hunk’s character, which is sorely needed. Big Man needs a situation to expand his strengths and become the rock of the team he’s supposed to be. It will, therefore, be Hunk who brings their leader back, as is fitting.  

You know who doesn’t get to save Shiro? Keith. Keith, who in his reckless determination has abandoned his family and realizes his mistake too late. Because, low and behold, he can’t do things on his own. I want Keith to learn some lessons because, frankly, he’s too much of a loose cannon not to. I want his lion stolen and him forced to trust and depend on others to help him from planet to planet hunting for for his lion and Shiro. I want him to learn nothing about where Shiro is and instead get lead upon lead about others in distress. I want him to see those families suffering at the hands of the Galra that he spoke of in season 1 and be unable to do anything. You want to know why? Because if there’s anything Keith has clearly never been, it’s helpless (at least, not since he was a child, which could make the whole thing even more interesting if he’s the way he is so as to avoid the helplessness he was dealt as a child *shrugs*). He needs to learn to depend on others and listen. In the end, he gets his lion back, but he’s faced with a crossroad. Does he follow a vague, undefined rumor he heard about Shiro, or does he follow all the clues he’s been getting about Pidge’s family? 

Keith gets to rescue and bring back Pidge’s father now (not the brother, because that’s too easy, obviously) because that’s what he learns is the right thing to do. Together–because Pidge’s father is a genius–they find the castle of lions and regroup, only to find Shiro already there. 

But Lance is still missing and learning that Lance left to go after him after he foolishly abandoned them eats horribly at Keith, as it very well should (Keith is one of my fav characters, guys, really XD).  

Lance, meanwhile, gets a treatment very opposite to Keith’s. He’s having doubts when it becomes clear he can’t track Keith. He’s reflecting on whether he even deserves to be a paladin and what he manages to bring to the team. he feels worthless and lost, and even his typical front of flirting and over-confidence begins to break down. But I want him to meet someone, someone older, that acts as a mentor to him. Because, frankly, Shiro makes a good mentor to Keith and Pidge, but hardly paid any attention to Lance and Hunk. And while Hunk doesn’t seem like the type to need that kind of support overly much, Lance is. But this person needs to be someone significant–maybe a member of an underground resistance outside the Blade of Marmora, maybe a previous paladin (I like this one a lot), I don’t care. But, one way or another, they–with Lance at the helm–save a fuckload of people and, you know what, because Lance deserves his moment too, they discover/save something/someone(s) huge. Or, better yet, diplomatically negotiate with a civilization that is powerful, but been in hiding as a result of the Galra empire spreading. Maybe they’re special because they know something about the lions. Maybe they built the fucking lions and it’s only through Lance’s growing confidence in his ability to be diplomatic–using the people skills he has but more or less abused in the past–that they convince this society and their awesome army/technology/badass ships/robots to join the Voltron cause. 

Lance’s character, above them all, needs this victory. He needs this proof of his value and as a way to solidify himself as the Blue lion. Lance needs his fucking moment, both for himself and the viewers, who have been as unable as Lance himself to truly see his value.  

When will this moment come? When he and this society (I really like this idea, okay?) hear through some high tech communication stuff that the castle of lions is in danger and that the Galra have brought down their whole fist in an effort to beat them/steal the lions. I imagine this society being either similar to the Alteans or related, so they’ll have the ability to make worm holes. 

Anyway, back on the castle of lions, shit is hitting the fan. They don’t currently have the support of the Blade of Marmora because, well, this isn’t the show finale and we need to leave some “gathering of allies” for later (you know, Avatar style). Which means they’re stuck minus one lion. But damn if they don’t come up with an awesome plan and make some epic dents in the Galra fleet (probably Lotor is around being a creeper too, because I get the feeling he’d probably have been around the whole time. Probably harassing team Hunk and being a passive-aggressive little bitch). Still, despite said awesome plan, they’re screwed. 

Until, boom, Lance shows up with the fleet of whatever it was he made an alliance with and the advantage is gained. The Galra are sent scattering (for once), Voltron is formed, and, uh, maybe Voltron fights Lotor, because this gives Lotor an excuse to see Voltron’s true power (and realize what his ridiculous father was always going on about). Upon being royally assaulted by Voltron, Lotor runs away. Which basically means he can’t go back to the Galra and, thus, we get a spoiled-brat prince with allegiance to no one continuing to cause problems in the next season (hint, hint, he’d eventually become good).    

Probably end the season with the team kind of getting a sort of victory (the Galra run away, so it’s not like they won the war or anything). There’s a bit at the end–maybe a cheesy reunion that doesn’t hold a lot of weight, because, boom, you have to wait till next season. Where we’ll get heavy on the Pidge and heavy on the Shiro again (since he’d been basically gone this whole season) and heavy on the Lance and Keith learning to be friends instead of rivals. 

THAT’S WHAT I WANT, OKAY?! 

Read my headcanons for season 4 here!

Maybe I’ll just end up writing this as a fic myself >.<

Originally posted by vyctornikiforov

After Hours [m]

pairing: reader x Yoongi

Genre: tattoed!yoongi, rapper!tyoongi, angst? fluff? smut, idk how to label this haha

word count: 16,212

warnings: graphic sexual content, alcohol, language

a/n: this is loosely based of Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist. i am v nervous about this as it isn’t the usual angst fueled plot I normally write. so if it’s crap, please be kind haha. i’m tagging the lovely @dimplecoups​ because i know you’ve been waiting for this. and @2seoke for always being the best babe.

Originally posted by lethargicmin

You looked in the mirror, making sure your face mask was properly in place. If you were going to look like a serial killer for the next 20 minutes, you at least wanted to look the part. Your bed was calling your name as you walked over to the soft mattress, choosing to ignore the missed calls and text messages from your best friend. This was the first Saturday night you had to yourself in months. No work. No brother. No best friend. You were free to do whatever you wanted.

Or at least that’s what you had originally intended. But as the door to your bedroom crashed open you soon realized that the night had other plans for you.

“Why haven’t you answered my calls?” your best friend Irene squealed as she plopped down at the foot of your bed. “It’s Saturday night and I know you don’t have to work tomorrow!”

You gave her a look. Well, you tried to give her a look to the best of your ability as the motions of your face was restricted by the sheet mask on top of it. “There’s a reason why I didn’t answer your calls. And just because my idiot brother gave you a key to our apartment doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here any time you want.”

Irene rolled her eyes, blowing a large bubble from the gum she was constantly chewing. She was clearly not amused at your disinterest on leaving your apartment tonight. You reached forward, popping it with your pointer finger. “You’re no fun, Y/N” she whined, collecting the gum back into her mouth.

“I can’t have fun when I’m always too busy taking care of you.” you quipped, reminding her of the last time the two of you went out. “I had to beg that cop not to give you a ticket for being drunk in public. Why aren’t you bothering my brother? I’m sure he would love to see you.”

Keep reading

i’m cute but psycho, she says. she smiles at me.

in my backpack are sixteen emergency items for panic attacks, for shutdown mode, for in case i can’t stop urges i can’t control, in case i am in trouble. i have under my bed razors i can’t bring myself to throw out, even though i’ve been recovered for ages. i forget what i said to him after i say it. i don’t mean any of it, but maybe i did. am i steering this ship or am i just a passenger on it.

i put the hot in psychotic, she says. i hear her laughing.

i can’t feel my lips. back when the hallucinations were bad i didn’t tell anyone but him, because i knew what was happening. when i woke up in a hospital i tried to kill the doctor. my therapy group was full of wonderful people. the girl who was schizophrenic had a beautiful singing voice. i can still hear her crying sometimes.

normal people scare me, he says. i know it’s from tv.

we faltered on the edge of bad things. when he tried to burn his house down he didn’t know what he was doing. he’s being charged as an adult, they tell me. when he saw me looking he said it was his responsibility. the girl with split personalities is sweet. her trauma rendered her largely unable to speak. i sit outside with the other three who raid our own bodies and we pluck flowers and play a game: what if i’d been born normal. what if i had been given executive functions. what if i hadn’t been given depression in bucketfuls until it overcame my lungs. my parents don’t know how to look at me anymore and neither do my friends. they all tiptoe around me like i will break at any second.

try yoga. it’s just a phase. we all feel that way. you have so much to be thankful for. someone has it worse. mentally ill people are dangerous. therapists aren’t real doctors and by extension you have no real problems. go for a run. just choose happiness. you’re not really sick. you’re faking it.

i lace my shoes. it’s nice to have laces back. i will try to work out without letting myself get back into my disorder, but we all know how well that will go. i have been working out since i was six years old. yoga is on my schedule but it’s never active enough. there’s a good chance that out of the people in my group, one of them is being taken advantage of. we are so quick to give ourselves out for the safety of others. the boy who, like me, has burn scars on his skin - he tells me his girlfriend likes that he’s sick. it makes him sensitive. the girl who is schizophrenic gets picked up by her father. i know he hits her. she says she kind of deserves it.

sadness makes for good art, she says. i don’t look up.

when they ask me where i’ve been i say i’ve been out of town. i feel fine thanks for asking. i don’t know who i am when nobody’s looking. i don’t know if i’m even real anymore. i don’t know how to get close to people because they’ll end up finding out and hating me for it, or i’ll be a burden, or they won’t know how to handle it. my family never brings up the hospital again. sometimes i think i dreamed it. 

you won’t find love until you love yourself, he warns. it’s been a long day.

i’m so alone.

2tired2care  asked:

Pst hi I LOVE YOUR FICS you have no idea how much they give me life <3 <3 I came across this really cute (and frankly heartbreaking) AU: "[burgler gently wakes me] you live like this?" (stolen from a post I saw on fb) and I kinda just need Stiles to do everything he can to make Derek's life better? THANK YOU SO MUCH :D

It IS frankly heartbreaking… which means I’m totally into it.

(now also on AO3!)

***

Derek definitely went to sleep alone. He always does, these days. It doesn’t explain why he drifts awake in the middle of the night to the feeling of someone lightly poking his shoulder.

It’s probably not a good sign that when he opens his eyes and sees a gangly teenage boy in a red hoodie and grubby-looking black fingerless gloves standing over him, he doesn’t startle. His claws don’t come out; his eyes don’t flash. He just feels… resigned.

“You live like this?” the guy says, soft. Almost pitying. “I mean. You actually live here?”

That seems too obvious, not to mention too insulting, to merit a response. “What are you doing here?” Derek asks instead. His voice comes out low and rough. This is the first time in days he’s had any reason to say anything. “This is private property.”

The guy shifts on his feet and sticks his hands under his armpits uncomfortably. “Okay, straight to the awkward questions. I like that.”

Keep reading

hand in hand

Now that he thinks about it, Castiel can’t remember the last time he had any physical contact at all.

On AO3

touch-starved cas, college au

music

———

“Cas, hey. Hey. Hey, Cas!”

Castiel looks up, finally registering that the voice he hears is directed at him. He finds Dean Winchester standing in front of him. How long has he been there?

“Ah, hello Dean. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Dean leans against Charlie Bradbury’s kitchen table and eyes Castiel critically. “You okay, man? You’ve been standing here for, like, a while.”

“Yeah. Yes. I was just thinking.”

Dean gives a smile, Castiel likes to think that it’s fond, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “Come on, they’re about to start the movie.”

“Alright.”

Castiel lets himself be led back into the living room, loud and chaotic. The sounds of talking and laughing and shouting are enjoyable, but Castiel can’t handle much of it at once, which is why he’d fled to the kitchen a while ago. He hopes Dean was the only one who noticed he was gone, he doesn’t want to seem rude.

In the living room Charlie, Gilda, and Kevin sit on the sofa, Gilda’s feet tucked up under Charlie’s legs. Jo is curled up on a beanbag chair. Dean sprawls out on an overstuffed armchair that could easily fit two, and Benny is sitting on the floor with his back against the couch.

With all the seats taken in his absence, Castiel opts for the floor. He settles himself down in front of Dean’s seat.

“What are we watching?” Asks Jo.

“Legally Blonde!” Charlie announces.

“Not again!” Kevin moans.

“Suck it up, Tran! My house, my movies!”

“It’s not just your house!” Kevin points out.

Charlie rolls her eyes, sighing. “What do you guys think?” She asks Gilda and Jo, who also live in the house.

“I like Legally Blonde.” Says Gilda.

“We’re watching Legally Blonde.” Says Jo.

Castiel suspects, by Kevin’s scowl, that they’re messing with him. It’s hard to tell. Castiel has never been to one of these “movie nights” before. These aren’t even his friends, not really. Acquaintances at most. They’re Dean’s friends.

“Drinking game?” Asks Dean, hopefully.

“Of course.” Charlie responds, “Should we do whiskey or vodka?”

“I’ll get the shot glasses.” Says Jo.

Castiel needs to get out more, that’s what everyone says. Well, that’s what Dean says, and Dean is his only friend so, really, Dean is everyone.

Castiel would point out that he’s almost never in his dorm, but more than likely in the library, which is where he met Dean in the first place.

Dean always argues that the library doesn’t really count as out, but Castiel disagrees. It gets him away from his current roommate, and that’s out enough for him. So what if he doesn’t leave campus? So what if he doesn’t really talk to anyone?

He’s doing fine, alright? He’s okay. He’s great.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

So I get it what happened was scary but he's in mexico which is so far away from the UK I feel like he's taking this way too personally considering the chances of anything happening to him are basically at zero. He should have taken this time to bring positivity not to cry the entire time and rush through songs or he should have just cancelled.

It doesn’t matter that he is in Mexico and the attack happened in the UK. People naturally are going to be fearful for a while. I’m not sure if Harry actually is afraid for his safety right now, I would hope not. But just like what happened with Christina Grimmie, people are going to be on edge and thinking about what might be coming next. You can’t blame Harry for that.

If Harry is emotional after a tragedy, let him be emotional. He, like many people from the UK and around the world, are still mourning. He has worked personally with Ariana and given her a song before. A lot of her fans are also fans of the boys. We already know one of the girls that has passed away was a huge fan of louis especially. Manchester is where Harry grew up because it was so close to Cheshire and that’s where people his age could go see concerts and hang out. Harry and the boys have played shows in Manchester. Manchester and the fans there mean a lot to him.

There are so many reasons Harry can be taking this especially hard, and for you to tell him how you think he should be acting is so ridiculous. He tried his best to bring positivity by saying be a lover. He tried to bring positivity by doing a show where all proceeds go to charity. He tried to bring positivity by singing his songs and performing even when he would probably rather be home with his family.

And it’s funny that you say he should have cancelled because I know if he did, people like you would be down his throat for it. Talking about how he’s selfish and the show was or charity and he should have just done the show anyway. Harry did his best tonight and put as much emotion and love into the show as he possibly could have and honestly fuck you for trying to twist this into something negative where Harry didn’t do a good enough job.

tl;dr Harry tried his best which was more than anyone should be asking for right now and we should be grateful he is safe and able to still do shows where donations are made to charity. Harry has such a big heart, I’m sorry you don’t understand that concept.

Sometimes you just roll enough to kill, but sometimes....

Context:
Casual part of a casual campaign, a bit boring travelling. So our DM decided some action would be refreshing, he wanted to test a homebrew hit-location system he made. Rolling a D10, to know where the hit lands.
In short: bandits attack us. Our party contained a dwarf war-lady, a swordmaster, a sorceress, a pyromancer, and a mage.

DM: Allright, it seems ladies first! So the dwarf starts the round. Roll it! *Dwarf rolls very good for the attack* Of course, I’m using the heavy flail!
*rolls damage*
Dwarf: It’s a seven! Where is the hit?
DM: Let me see. *rolls the location* Groin. Congratulations nut-cracker! Okay, the next isthe swordmaster.
*Swordmaster rolls for the attack and hits*
Swordmaster: I attack with my favorite sword. *rolls damage* It’s ten. Where did I slash?
*DM rolls*
DM: It could be painful for the bandit anywhere on his body. But you managed you slice off his “pride”. Groin.
*Dm sighed*
DM: Allright sorceress, your time has come. Roll for attack.
*sorceress rolls and it’s critical*
Soceress: YEAH! Fire-arrow! Please be good! *rolls damage* Only four.
DM: And the magical arrow goes to…*rolls* You gotta be kidding me! Groin.
*All the players burst into laugh*
Pyromancer: Well..shall we name them ….The Pussies?

Note: needless to say, the rest of the bandits ran away.

Heaven In This Bed

Bitty gasps when he sees it.

It’s loud enough that Jack drops Bitty’s overnight bag at his feet.

“This bed,” Bitty says and Jack scoffs.

“You scared me. I thought it was something serious.”

Bitty twists towards him from where he’s standing at the end of the bed.

“It is. I am serious about this bed,” he says before he starfishes across the mattress and buries his head in the pillows. “It’s heaven.”

“It’s alright.”

“Alright?” Bitty looks at him through one eye and Jack shrugs.

He bought the first one he tired. It was comfortable and the salesman said it would be good for his back. He didn’t give it much thought.

“This is the most comfortable bed I have ever been in. Certainly the biggest.”

He stretches his arms out to his sides. They don’t quite reach the edge but the movement does pull his shirt tight across his shoulders and Jack is suddenly a lot more interested in this.

Bitty sighs happily then rolls over into his back and looks up at Jack who’s standing between his feet.

“Should I leave you and the bed alone?”

Bitty flexes his wrists then arches his back and sits up. He hooks his fingers in the belt loops of Jack’s jeans and tugs.

“Not alone.”

It’s one more tug and Jack carefully topples over and onto his boyfriend.

Bitty kisses him and slips his hands beneath Jack’s t-shirt.

Jack’s not expecting it when Bitty hooks a leg over his thigh and flips them. He straddles his hips and smiles down at him.

“We couldn’t do that in my bed at the Haus. You would’ve fallen right out,” he says and when Jack rolls his eyes Bitty presses down harder with his hands on his shoulders. “How can you be so blasé about this bed?”

“I don’t know.” He runs his hands up Bitty’s thighs and holds them tight around his hips then drags them back down again. “I like it a lot more now.”

Bitty grins down at him and dips in for another kiss.

anonymous asked:

Can you write about lance (from voltron) getting angry? like snaping, because I feel like we haven't seen lance truly angry yet, all the times we have seen him mad, but it seemed more agitated to me, and so I would love it if you wrote about lance snapping, just him being so sick of everything and someone makes a bad comment at the wrong time and he just snaps and he is terrifying, please? (p.s can it be super angst?)

Sorry if this is quite what you wanted, but here you go anon!

I image Lance as someone who would let himself get beat up but would kick someone’s ass if they dared to touch his friend, as well as being quietly intimidating since he often is loud and the contrast shows how serious he’s being.

Warning for some light swearing!

Lance made his way towards the kitchen, he was up a bit earlier than usual, though not overly so. He had gotten enough scoldings from Allura to know he needed to get his shit together. He often feels like he’s holding back the team and he is willing to make double the effort to become useful.

As he approached the entrance to the kitchen, he heard the muffled sounds of his teammates talking. Hoping Hunk was working his magic and preparing something other than the bland food goo, he sped up a tad. His fantasies of Hunk’s cooking ended abruptly when he got close enough to clearly make out what one of the voices was saying

“-know he’s trying, but he has to step it up! He’s lagging behind all of us.” He heard Shiro say

Lance stopped in his tracks. Shiro, Lance’s hero, just openly spoke about some of Lance’s biggest insecurities.

He spun around to go back to his room, however, dozens of cheesy soap operas and cliché scenes of drama being started from someone misinterpreting, mishearing, or misunderstanding made him stay.

He pressed his back against the wall, and he slid down it until he was sitting. He was a couple feet away from the doorway so while he could make out what his team was saying, he still had time to react and get up if he heard footsteps.

“I say we make him train more,” was Keith’s less than helpful input in lance’s opinion. He has trained a lot on his own, but he just wasn’t improving fast enough.

“Guys, Lance tries really hard, lay off a little,” Lance appreciated Hunk’s support and confidence in him, though it didn’t make Shiro and Keith’s comments sting any less

“Hunk, we know you’re the closest to Lance, but doesn’t that make your opinion a little more biased?”

“Lance isn’t at the same level as us, and he needs to get there.”

Hunk desperately tried to defend him but Lance knew it was a lost cause at this point, the more he listened to, the more he got frustrated. He contemplated getting up and leaving to calm himself down in his room now that he knew this wasn’t a misinterpretation; he was the subject of the conversation, more specifically, his inadequacy.

“Shouldn’t you get back to cooking or something? Shiro and I were discussing this and you kind of butted in,” Lance snapped to attention at that comment, did Keith seriously just say that?

Before Lance even processed what he was doing, he stormed into the kitchen, walked up into Keith’s startled face, his own looking furious, “What the hell did you just say?” his tone was even in a terrifying way

Keith seemed to understand it was a rhetorical question, Shiro seemed unnerved by Lance’s uncharacteristically serious tone.

“Lance, it was nothing-”

“That’s bull, Hunk, and you know it. That was entirely uncalled for.” Lance turned back towards the other two presences in the room, “Listen and listen well. If you even breathe another word that belittles, demeans, puts down, or even suggests Hunk did anything wrong when he hasn’t done a damn thing, then you’d better hope and pray I am as far behind in training as you suggest I am.” His tone was chilling, his eyes locked onto Keith’s, his icy glare effectively putting out the fire in Keith’s.

Keith soon snapped out of it and seemed to contemplate something before speaking, “So are you saying that if we insult Hunk you’ll be more motivated to train harder?” that was the wrong thing to say.

The ice in Lance’s gaze melted, being replaced with a fire that could burn anyone it was directed at, “If you dare to suggest what I think you are, my position on the team will not be your main concern.” his voice had started low, rising with every word, “Are we clear?” his words were short and tight, intimidating everyone in the room.

Nods from both Shiro and Keith were enough for Lance, he wasn’t going to let it go right away but he knew they understood.

“Alright, good,” Lance questioned if he should address what had spurred Hunk being dismissed and decided he would if only a little.

Lance locked eyes with Keith “What you say cuts deep,” he glanced at Shiro “Both of you. I looked up to you both, but I can take it. I know my faults, I know where I need improvement, and Hunk’s right, I do try…”

Lance’s voice had gotten soft as it trailed off, his eye’s having found themselves trained on the floor directly in front of his feet, he could feel the pitying gaze of the other three “All you are doing is vocalizing thoughts I’ve had a thousand times over,” Lance shook himself out of it and looked up again, Shiro and Keith stood in front of him ”but what I can’t take is you putting down my best friend when he has done nothing wrong.”

Lance had just about burned out, getting angry was exhausting. He was done with being frustrated for today, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, initially heading back to his room before opting to go to the only place he knew he couldn’t be disturbed. Blue.

punsbulletsandpointythings  asked:

Your myth retellings are gorgeous. Would you tell another please? Maybe something with Hermes?

Pandora is made from earth, shaped by the hands of Hephaestus and made in the image of his beloved wife. Aphrodite gifts her with grace and charisma. Athena teaches her to weave and bestows cleverness upon her.

She stands in front of Hermes, and the god frowns and touches her with a single fingertip on her chin, moving her head one way than the other. “They’ll eat you alive,” he says, and she doesn’t understand.

She tilts her head to the side and smiles a vacant smile. All of the cleverness in the world will do her no good without any context. “We are the same,” she says, pressing a hand to Hermes’s chest. She is made from earth and has the skin to mach. He is a celestial god, and his skin is the same rich shade of brown.

He did not ask to be born any more than his mother asked to bare him. His creation, just like hers, is at the whims of Zeus. All for some little lost fire, all because Prometheus wanted his people to be warm, and, well, he is the god of the thieves after all –

So he gifts her with deceit, with selfishness, with cunning. Her smile leaves her face all at once as she’s filled with self-awareness. “He’ll be angry with you,” she says, “I am not what you were supposed to make.”

“Gods have short memories,” he says, and doesn’t bother to hide the contempt in his voice. “Do not worry about me, gifted child. You have larger problems than my fate.”

He has turned her from something pure into – something more like him. Her face darkens even further as her perfectly crafted mind slots all the pieces together, and he can’t help but find her lovely. It’s how she was made, after all. “I can’t stop it, can I? Whatever they’re planning for me to do?”

“No,” Hermes says, “but now you might be able to survive it.”

“Will I want to?” she asks, and he doesn’t answer. She doesn’t expect him too.

~

She hides from everyone, lives in a cave at the edge of the city. The gods had called her the first woman, but that’s not true, she can see.

There are women. They smile and laugh have work roughened hands. She aches to join them, but she has the beauty of a goddess. They will know. If she joins them, they will know she is not of them, and it will set into motion whatever trap Zeus has planned.

She is not human, not in the same way, molded from clay by a god’s hands. But she is of humans, and not eager to bestow upon them the harm she’s destined to bring them. She bathes in streams where only nymphs reside, steals into the city in the cloak of night and pilfers from the baker’s trash.

“When they said they sent my brother a wife,” a low, amused voice says too close behind her one night, “I had not expected a begger.”

She whirls around, hard bread clenched tight in front of her, an incredibly inefficient shield. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees him, dark and tall and eyes like the night sky. He looks like Hermes. Like her. “Who are you?” she demands. They’re in an alley corner, and of her gifts flight is not among them. She’ll have to fight him to get away.

She’s not afraid of him. Maybe another mortal would be, cornered in the middle of the night by a man she doesn’t know. But she’s no normal mortal woman, and besides – he has something comforting about him, like the hearthfire attended by Hestia. Something warm.

“I am Prometheus,” says the man, and no wonder he reminds her of fire. “What do they call you?”

“You are meant to be in the deepest pits of Hades’s realm,” she snaps, and shifts her grip on the stale bread so that she can throw it at him. He’s the whole reason she’s here to begin with, him and his thievery.

He shrugs and walks closer to her, watching her like one would watch a wild animal. Good. Here, in this dark alley where no one would find a cooling body until morning, it is he that should be afraid. “Gods forget,” he says, “and Hades had grown cold in his place beneath the earth.”

She pauses, considers. “You stole fire for Hades?”

“No,” he corrects, “I stole fire for the people. But Hades benefited as well. Enough that he was willing to forget the terms of my punishment.”

“What do you want?” she asks for the second time. “Why are you here?”

He stops, too close to her, “The question is why are you here?”

She steps into his space now, following him as he backs away from her, “I am here because of you, fire-stealer, because gods may forget but they do not forgive, and I am the punishment they have unleashed upon the world.”

“What a punishment you are,” he says, looking at her lips, and she forgets to hate him only long enough to kiss him.

~

Hermes watches her, watches them. He doesn’t know Zeus’s plan, if this is part of it or not, but he watches her, and he worries. He thinks it is, he can see Aphrodite’s magic clinging to Pandora, but he doesn’t know why.

He would go to his mother, but she’s always difficult to find, Gaea preferring to live in streams and rivers rather than face the man she bore a son for. But his mother’s father, on the other hand, is always in the same place.

“Grandfather,” Hermes greets, touching lightly down onto the earth, “How are you?”

“How am I always, boy?” Atlas grunts out, legs and arms straining as he holds up the sky above the earth. “Tired.”

Hermes lips quirk up the corners. Some days, he thinks he’s more Atlas’s grandson than he’s Zeus’s son. “I need some advice, Grandfather.”

Atlas raises an eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

So Hermes tells him everything, from beginning to end, because he can’t figure out what his father’s plan is, but Atlas might. He’s known the man for longer, at least.

Atlas nods, slow, and says, “A bride of gods, a gifted child. I can think of only one reason to create such a child.” Hermes waits. Atlas sighs and says, “There is a jar, within Olympus, that becomes sealed when it leaves the realm of the gods. After that, only a being neither mortal nor celestial may open it.”

“What are they planning to put inside?” Hermes demands, heart spiking. What are they planning to unleash upon the unsuspecting earth?

His grandfather smirks, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is this – what are you going to put inside?”

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Hot Like Burning

Sterek, 2.5K words, Teen

AU, Firefighter Derek

In which Derek is the grumpy neighborhood firefighter, and Stiles is a bit of a lovestruck idiot.


Stiles winces as he turns the corner, unbearably nervous like he always is whenever he drives Lydia’s car, and pulls into the fire station. He offered this morning to help her with any errands she needed, and she asked him to take her car to the fire station and have them install the car seat. Stiles had no idea this was even a thing—seriously, how hard is it to put in a car seat?—but unsurprisingly, Lydia is as fastidious about her unborn child’s safety as she is about everything else.

He parks just outside the front door, careful not to block the big bays with the two fire trucks, and wanders inside. “Hello?” he calls out. There’s a noise coming from the other side of the fire truck, so Stiles keeps walking in that direction, then nearly trips over his own two feet.

There’s a guy, crouched down as he washes the wheel well of the fire truck, and Stiles is 101 percent sure that he’s the most attractive person he’s ever seen. He’s frowning, as if he’s pissed at the task in front of him, but it only serves to show off the sharp cut of his jaw under a very nicely-shaped short beard. He’s wearing a tight short-sleeved SFFD t-shirt, which is wet in patches and very clearly showing off the muscled physique underneath.

“Holy shit.”

The guy’s head jerks up at that, his eyes wide, and his gaze locks with Stiles’ for a long second before slowly drifting down the rest of his body. Stiles damn near forgets how to breathe because yep, this impossibly hot dude is most definitely checking him out.

Stiles has never believed in love at first sight, and he still doesn’t, but as of this moment he most certainly does believe in…familiarity at first sight? Cosmic connection? Just plain lust? He has no fucking clue.

But he yelps a little in surprise, then actually manages to trip over nothing, only catching himself by clutching the pillar next to him, which oh fuck, is actually the fire pole. He finally rights himself, grimacing with both arms spread for balance, and then slaps a hand over his eyes with a plaintive groan.

“Oh my god. Hi, hello, my name is Stiles. Uh, any chance we can start over and pretend that this excruciatingly embarrassing encounter didn’t happen?”

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night

They kiss on the couch, hands and lips lazy, plates and forks discarded. Jack’s mouth is soft and warm and Bitty feels like he’s being pulled under by each sweep of tongue against his bottom lip, each press of thumb against his hip. They kiss, time turned slow and thick, dripping golden as honey from second to second.

Until Jack’s hand slips beneath the hem of Bitty’s shirt, his fingers spreading across the small of his back, and Bitty’s heart ratchets up a notch and his teeth graze Jack’s lip. Jack’s breath catches. He pulls away–eyes dark and cheeks pink, mouth red–and then he’s saying Bitty’s name and pulling Bitty on top of him.

The stretch of his thighs where he straddles Jack’s, the solidity of Jack’s chest beneath his palms, the look in Jack’s eyes as Bitty rises above him; all of it is perfect, all of it is good.

“Jack.”

“Bitty,” Jack says. “Bits.” And then both hands are skimming beneath Bitty’s shirt, up his back. He pulls Bitty close and Bitty goes, eagerly, fits their mouths together.

He’d been so nervous at first, afraid that he wasn’t enough, was too inexperienced. That he wouldn’t be what Jack wanted, not really, when all was said and done. He still gets nervous, to be honest; they haven’t been together that long. But everything Jack has done, every touch and every word, pushes those fears away, wearing them down until there’s only the ebb and flow of want between them.

Bitty kisses him. Bitty is kissed. Each touch of Jack’s sinks into him, grounds him even as it sends the world spinning. He’s drunk off it after so long without. School and hockey and distance and public personas keep them apart, will continue to keep them apart. But here in the privacy of Jack’s home, there’s nothing to stop them touching.

Jack’s hair is soft beneath his fingertips, his skin warm. His hands beneath Bitty’s shirt are huge, and Bitty wants them elsewhere, everywhere. All he has to do is ask.

Jack will give.

anonymous asked:

blurb of harry teaching you to play guitar??? a smutty one please??? ;)

CAN YOU WRITE something thats about him in the studio and he’s jokingly like “hey babe wanna go sing in the booth” and your like sure haha and then you’re actually really amazing at singing and him and the producer are amazed… my dream blurb lmaoo thankyou susie!!!!! ❤️🎶

Joined these two.  Enjoy

Two months in Jamaica sounded like a dream.  No one there to bother you, limited phone calls, text messages and emails.  It was falling off the grid on a deliciously necessary level.  Only it wasn’t for you.  Your boyfriend, Harry Styles, had been gone that long recording his first solo CD.  

To be honest, you had been slightly hurt when he informed you of the plan.  Jamaica sounded amazing and fun and holy shit did you need a vacation.  But he needed to be alone.  He needed to focus.  And you understood that.

You’d had a front row seat to his misgivings and doubts about going solo.  Did he have anything to say?  Enough to fill up an entire album?  Would anyone want to hear it?  Dunkirk had been a blessing in disguise because it allowed Harry to go off and do something different for five months.  His perspective upon his return had been cleared up entirely.

Filming the movie was fun.  He had a good time.  He’d do it again.

But music was where his heart lay.

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He's a Dick (Jeff Atkins x Fem!Reader)

A/N: The idea for this one is that Jeff is the readers best friend and she broke up with her shit boyfriend Marcus and when she called Jeff for help he was too busy focusing on other stuff that the reader felt like he stopped caring. Then it ends with sugary sweet fluff and kisses and junk.

You walked around Sheri’s party, red cup in hand looking for your boyfriend Marcus. Huge parties weren’t usually your thing, but you got dragged along by not only him but all of your other friends. Hannah was too busy with Clay, Sheri was busy hosting, Jessica was getting her face sucked off by Justin, and Zach and Marcus were nowhere to be seen.

You walked outside and saw Jeff playing beer pong with Monty. You walked up next to him and stood by his side. He looked down and gave a soft smile before returning to his game.

“Hey, have you seen Marcus around?” You asked. He shook his head no, never turning to look at you. You watched as he aimed before shooting and landing the ball in the middle cup.

“This game is stupid.” You said with a chuckle. Jeff absentmindedly nodded and picked up another ball.

“Almost as stupid as you.” You said with a small smirk, attempting to gain his attention once again.

“Yeah, that’s great, Y/N. I’m a little busy right now.” He said. You looked down sadly and nodded before walking off to find Marcus. You weren’t having any fun and you were ready to go home. You pushed past the sweaty bodies and asked around, but nobody had seen him.

You finished looking downstairs and made your way upstairs. You opened door after door before coming to one at the end of the hallway. You heard moaning coming from inside and you were about to walk away until you heard a familiar voice.

You leaned against the door and heard his voice once again. You pushed open the door and your hand instantly flew to your mouth. He scrambled off the bed holding the blanket against him and began stammering out lame excuses. You looked at the girl and noticed she was one of the cheerleaders. Jenny Kyle.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Marcus?!” You shouted angrily.

“Y/N, b-babe. I swear this, this meant nothing! S-she means nothing! This was an accident!” Marcus stammered out, stepping towards you. You backed away, tears pricking at your eyes and shook your head. He kept coming closer and when he got near you, you pushed him back at full force. He stumbled onto the floor and you leaned down to be in his face.

“We. Are. Finished.” You seethed before turning and storming down the stairs. You didn’t even try to cover your tears as they freely flowed down your cheeks. People stared as you walked past, but you didn’t care. You ran outside to find Jeff and saw him standing at the same table with another ball in his hand. You walked up to him and grabbed his arm pulling it down so you could whisper in his ear.

“Please take me home, Jeff.” You spoke, trying to keep your voice from cracking. Jeff groaned quietly and pulled his arm from your grasp.

“Can’t you get Marcus or Clay to do it? Jeez, Y/N, I’m trying to play.” He said in an annoyed voice. You scoffed and stormed away from him, not believing what he had said. You managed to find Tony in the crowd and convinced him to take you home. Thankfully, he knew you weren’t in the mood to answer any questions, so he didn’t even ask. He drove you home in silence and spent the night with you as you cried into his chest.

~

You woke up with your eyes puffy from crying, and Tony’s arm wrapped around yours. You shook him and his eyes slowly peeled open before meeting yours. He sighed as he saw your reddened cheeks.

“Hey, you gonna be alright? We don’t have to go. I can take you to Rosie’s and we can just skip a day.” He said as you climbed out of bed, before walking to your closet to find the comfiest outfit for the day.

“No thanks, T. I appreciate it though.” You said softly, your voice still scratchy from crying. He nodded and gave a sympathetic smile before standing and wrapping his arms around you, tightly pulling him into his chest.

“You’re gonna be alright, kid. I’ve got your back.” He said, placing a kiss on the top of your head. You sighed and wrapped your arms around him as well, trying to refrain from crying again, but of course a few tears escaped. Tony felt you shaking and pulled away before wiping your tears.

“Don’t cry. He isn’t worth your tears.” He said. You took in a deep breath and gave him a sad smile. He returned a small one before patting your shoulder and walking towards your door.

“I’ll be downstairs. I’ll drive you today, and we can stop for breakfast if you want.” He offered.

“Thanks for driving but we don’t need to stop.” You said. He nodded and walked out of your bedroom, leaving you alone to change. You pulled off your clothing and walked into your bathroom. You turned on the shower and stepped into it. You quickly cleaned yourself and stepped out, drying off and pulling on a pair of black skinny jeans, a matching tank top and a grey hoodie. You pulled your (Y/H/C) hair up into a ponytail and walked out. You walked downstairs to meet Tony and grabbed a pair of black combat boots similar to his.

You walked out and he drove you both in silence. When you arrived you had to part ways, but not before a reassuring hug.

You walked to your locker in silence, ignoring everyone in your path. You put in your combination and opened your locker, pulling out a few books.

“Y/N!” You heard a familiar voice call. You looked up and saw Jeff running towards you. You rolled your eyes and slammed your locker before turning and walking away. You could hear his footsteps growing closer and you sped up, trying your best to avoid him as he called your name. You felt his hand grab your shoulder before he stepped in front of you.

“Hey, you alright?” He asked, worry in his eyes. You scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Oh, so now you suddenly care?” You asked with a raised brow. Jeff looked at you in confusion and shook his head.

“What are you talking about, Y/N/N? I’ve always cared about you. You’re my best friend.” He said. You rolled your eyes and looked down.

“Didn’t seem like you cared last night. All you cared about was that stupid game.” You said pushing past him, walking to class. Jeff followed quickly and grabbed your arm, pulling you into an empty classroom.

“Jeff, what the hell? Let me go to class!” You exclaimed. Jeff just stared at you as you began to seethe.

“What, what happened?” He asked quietly. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“It didn’t seem important to you yesterday. Why should you care now?” You said angrily. Jeff ran his hands over his face and sighed.

“Monty had me in a bet and I wanted to win. You know how competitive I can get, Y/N.” He explained. You shook your head and looked away.

“That doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole. And if you seriously must know what happened, I broke up with Marcus because I caught him fucking another girl. Jenny Fucking Kyle.” You said angrily. Jeff stood there with his mouth agape and his eyes wide.

“Yeah, I walked in on them both. Great fucking sight to see, but of course you don’t care. My problems aren’t important.” You said with tears beginning to fill your eyes. Jeff noticed and walked closer to you. You shook your head and held a hand out to stop him, but instead he grabbed it and pulled you into an embrace.

You tried your hardest to fight him as you started crying but as he ran his fingers through your hair and whispered into your ear, you slowly stopped fighting and just began sobbing into his chest. He rubbed your back soothingly and you fisted his shirt tightly.

“Shh. It’s okay, Y/N. I’m here.” He whispered. You shook in his arms as you let every emotion free.

“Why would he do that to me, Jeff? What did I do to deserve that? Was I not good enough?” You cried. Jeff continued to shush you and calm you down.

“Hey, look at me.” He said, lifting your head up with his finger.

“Don’t you dare cry over him. You’re way too good for that douchebag. He doesn’t deserve you. And don’t you ever say you’re not good enough. You are beautiful, and smart, and funny, and unique and any guy would be lucky to have you. I know I would.” He said, whispering that last part, but it was loud enough where you heard.

He brought a hand to your cheek and brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. You licked your lips and he looked down as you slowly ran your tongue over them. He mirrored your actions and you did the same. He looked back into your watery (Y/E/C) eyes before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours.

Your eyes fluttered closed and your heart skipped at the feeling. His lips were soft and had a hint of strawberry and mint to them. You brought your arms up around his neck and pulled him deeper into the kiss.

You both broke away once your lungs began straining for air and you rested your forehead against his. Your lips still tingled from coming in contact with his and you smiled a bit.

“Y/N?” He said, barely above a whisper. You hummed in response, playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“You know I love you, right?” Jeff asked quietly. You nodded against him and he sighed.

“Seeing you with Marcus nearly drove me insane. He’s a fucking asshole, and you… you’re just too good for him. You’re honestly too good for me, and I’d be perfectly fine if you don’t like me the way I like you, and if it’s too soon to start anything, and-” He rambled, but you cut him off with another kiss. He smiled against your lips and you pulled away, looking into his eyes.

“I love you too, you idiot.”

Now onto this famous scene from Episode 2: Attack of the Clones.

The importance of this scene is heavy weighted on Anakin’s view point. He starves for affection, for acknowledgment, and for familiarity. After years stuck with the Jedi who we all know by now kept him at arm’s length and never actually accepted him. Now this person, this angel who he longed for and loved since the age of nine has come back to his life and he can’t contain his excitement. It’s as if he was dead until the moment he saw her again. He wants to tell her everything without holding anything back because he knows she won’t judge him… and that is something only his mom ever done for him. A reassurance, that someone [ admittedly ] cares about him *going back to the Japor Snippet scene in Ep1*. Everything seems perfect, too perfect in fact. So naturally, as soon as Padmé opens her mouth in this scene in particular I’m afraid our dear Padawan was able to return to a sense of… difficult reality which clearly expose how much different their upbringing fundamentally is.

Padmé: We used to come here for school retreat. We would swim to that island every day. I love the water. We used to lie out on the sand and let the sun dry us and try to guess the names of the birds singing.

[ note: lol, I just love how she just bragged about water to a slave boy from a dusty planet. Padmé no! ]

And we see unmistakably that Anakin is having hard time sinking in his own feelings. Up till this moment he was able to forget their status: former slave, former queen. But now it’s all back and he can’t even smile. Like at all. And no one of course can expect him to. While he wants to get to know the woman he loves so much, the thing she was saying kinda felt like drinking acid. I mean what is someone like him expected to answer to that? Having to hear; about such beautiful lavished and serene moment so very much unlike anything that happened in his entire harsher young life. This is where the awkwardness begins. At one point he wants her to keep talking to him, and at another he knows he can’t possibly relate to anything she says.

Anakin: I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere. Not like here. Here everything is soft and smooth.

This line isn’t about sand. This line isn’t about Anakin’s hatred of sand. This line is about Anakin’s original home, Tatooine, the place where his mother is (currently) slowly dying in. The muse of his nightly nightmares and where his nonexistence sad childhood had began. Except; he couldn’t just say it out loud. It’d ruin the mood for one thing and surely illustrate the vast gap between their worlds. That could only play into his fears, and serves as reminder that he’s not good enough for her. So, he tries clumsily and awkwardly to connect with her on simpler terms.

This overlooked moment shows how two different worlds came together and how it wasn’t an easy thing to do thanks to the major difference and unforgiving aspects. This very moment also was the start of Anidala courtship.

‘i can’t help but want’ epilogue

i wrote a short little piece for @legendarydesvender for her birthday. i’d just released this fic when we started talking, and i still remember fondly that she doodled a little spock!keith for me during the livestream that we met in. happy birthday sven!! you’re lovely and wonderful and make me laugh every single day  💖💖💖

keith/lance (2112 words) 

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anonymous asked:

prompts: andreil with hurt or sick neil

Sorry for how long this took, hope it’s ok!

Andrew had been sitting at the terminal waiting for his twice delayed flight for the past five hours. To say he was irritated would be putting it mildly. 

Five hours of constant, simmering anxiety was pushing the bounds of what Andrew was going to allow. If the plane didn’t leave in the next half hour, the Florida captain and his offer could go fuck themselves. It wasn’t worth this.

The idiotic part of his brain was wishing Neil was here. 

Neil had a way of grounding Andrew when they had to fly, giving him something to hold on to, to distract from the animal part of his brain that dissolved into panic and fear. 

Bee would tell him it was good to form small dependencies, to live in a reciprocal relationship of trust and care, to allow another person to be a source of comfort. She would say that Andrew had given Neil protection against those who sought to do them harm, that he gave Neil the comfort and security of their house in Colombia. She would say that he should let Neil give him comfort and security when they had to catch a stupid plane.

The part of Andrew that had offered Neil those keys all those years ago, who’d made him promises he would die keeping, wanted to believe that he deserved to allow someone to give him that security and comfort. That it was ok to want that from Neil.

He thought he almost believed it.

Regardless, Neil wasn’t here.

Neil was still in his last year at Palmetto, and they were two weeks out of the start of the season. He couldn’t afford to come with Andrew to Florida for the weekend while he heard their team’s offer. 

Andrew had wanted to stay closer to Palmetto. The teams there wouldn’t offer nearly as much as the Florida team had, and they certainly weren’t of the same professional calibre, but Andrew didn’t give a fuck about any of that. He wanted to stay close to Palmetto because Neil had a tendency to find trouble, and someone had to watch his dumb ass. That person was supposed to be Andrew.

“You have to go, Andrew. Florida is one of the best teams in the league,” Neil had said to him, when he’d first received the letter.

“I pity you if you think I give a single shit about that.”

Neil looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but wisely didn’t. “I’ll be fine,” he said instead.

Andrew narrowly avoided scowling. “One day I’m going to tattoo that onto your face so I don’t have to hear those words come out of your stupid mouth again.”

Neil had smirked. “Go to Florida, Andrew. This is the best chance we’ve got.”

He didn’t say it was the best chance for them to be in the same team next year. Florida was one of the top teams in the league, and the salaries they offered reflected that. They would be good enough for Ichirou, and though Neil was avoiding thinking about that at all costs, that was something he was going to have to consider when the pro offers came rolling in. 

Florida was close that Andrew could visit occasionally, and good enough that Neil could follow him there. Those were the important things.

So, the airport was where Andrew now found himself.

When the boarding call for his flight finally came over the speakers, Andrew buried the instinctual urge to run deep down. 

He was spending far too much time with Neil.

He joined the end of the queue of passengers waiting for the air hostess to scan their tickets. It wasn’t a busy flight, for which Andrew was quietly relieved. He scanned the faces of the people in the crowd, but saw no threat among them. Just a sea of boring no-bodies as irritated with the delay as he was.

He was nearly at the front of the queue when his phone starting ringing in his pocket. He was tempted to ignore it, but he recognised Neil’s ringtone. He stepped out of the line, ignoring the frown of the air hostess who clearly had no intention of waiting for him, and answered it.

“What?”

“Andrew?”

Andrew froze. That wasn’t Neil’s voice.

“What the fuck is wrong, Kevin?”

“It’s Neil,” Kevin said. “Andrew, he’s in the hospital.”

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pastelgothiclesbian  asked:

Okay, so can you make a fic where dan is tied town and Phil has a vibrating wand on his cock and dan screaming and writhing around and he finally cums. BUT Phil does not let up and keeps the vibrator and the head of god cock until he is crying from the overstimulation.

Yooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Okay so gUYS I went to the potato bowl it was fuckin lit ++ dirty anons are back on @subbydan-answers for all you sinners ++ I’m doing OCs on my writing tumblr @somanydestiel

Tags: Overstim, Bondage, Edging, dom!Phil, top!Phil, Degradation, Daddy Kink, very rough rough rough play, cumplay if you squint really hard, Aftercare


- Looking back, Dan really shouldn’t have teased Phil and then gone off to touch himself without permission, because he’s now tied tightly to his bed, Phil staring at him with that smirk and his hands behind his back. “Do you know why I’m punishing you, slut?” He asks as he crosses the room and climbs onto the bed above Dan.

- “Yes, Daddy-” Dan’s voice is cut off when Phil slaps him across the face- not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to sting.

- “Naughty whores like you don’t get Daddies.”

- “Yessir, sorry sir,” Dan amends, eyes shut and trying not to focus on his hard on. Knowing Phil, he won’t be cumming for a while yet. Phil kisses Dan softly on the lips before moving to his neck, biting and sucking dark marks into the skin there. It makes Dan wiggle and his eyes glaze over, because his neck has always been pretty sensitive.

- Phil sits back on his haunches, admiring the mess he’s already made of Dan, and then reveals what’s behind his back- a hitachi wand. Just the sight of it makes Dan’s cock twitch because he loves it, loves how good it feels, how quickly it can make him cum. Tonight is going to be hard. “I’m going to edge you once for every hour your slutty little ass teased me today.”

-Nine. Phil is going to edge him nine times. Dan bites his lip when Phil turns on the wand, hips lifting off the bed just at the sound. He whines in the back of his throat when it does touch him, vibrating up and down his length, Phil moving it slowly with a dangerous look on his face. “Feel good?” Dan makes an affirmative humming sound, looking at Phil pleadingly. Already, he’s wrecked, needy, and close. Riling Phil up takes a toll on him too. Right as Dan’s about to come, the ask for permission on the tip of his tongue, Phil pulls the wand away, running it up and down Dan’s ribs instead, brushing it over his nipples once or twice as Dan calms down slightly. “One. Beg me to touch you again, bitch.”

- “Sir, please, please touch me. Please punish me an’ make me yours sir. ‘M sorry I was bad, just please touch me.” For a long moment, Phil keeps mindlessly moving the wand, dragging it over Dan’s inner thighs. Then, out of nowhere, it’s pressed against Dan’s taint and balls, just enough pressure that Dan squirms. Slowly, ever so slowly, he moves it up to the sensitive head of Dan’s cock, holding it there.

- “You’ve had worse,” Phil says with mild disinterest when Dan whimpers. “Be lucky I’m even bothering to touch a disgusting slut like you.” This time, Dan very nearly comes, but it’s taken away from him as the first spurt starts to dribble out of his cock. While Dan ‘cools down,’ if you can even call it that, Phil collects the cum with his fingers and presses them to Dan’s lips to clean. “Don’t get my toy dirty,” he chastises. Just like that, it’s back, and Dan nearly sobs with desperation. The amount of time is even shorter this time, and continues on in much the same pattern until Dan’s been edged eight times.

- Setting down the wand, Phil crawls on top of Dan and balances with his jean-covered thigh pressed between Dan’s legs, one hand balancing himself to the left of Dan’s head, and his right around Dan’s throat, pressing down so that Dan’s breathing gets shallow and his cheeks turn a darker shade of pink. “Rut against my thigh like the pathetic piece of shit you are,” he growls. That’s all Dan needed, and his hips rapidly drive his little cock forward for the painful friction and it feels so fucking good to be beneath Phil like this, surrounded by his scent, tears in the corners of his eyes. Precum smears onto the denim and Dan is about to come, a moan caught in his throat when Phil jumps off of him. No more weight against Dan’s body, no more hand on his throat, no more leg for him to get off on.

- “Sir, I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please let me cum, please! Please, sir, I’ll do anything, please! I’m sorry I won’t be bad ever again I’ll do anything sir please!”

- Instead of answering, he picks back up the vibrator and presses it to the head of Dan’s cock again. “You can cum,” Phil says casually, but what makes Dan hit his high is the way Phil reaches into his pants to start stroking himself, eyes never leaving Dan’s shaking form. But once Dan cums, Phil doesn’t move the vibrator, despite Dan’s protests and attempts to shift his hips away from it. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Phil mocks. “Thought the fucking whore wanted to cum.”

- “I did, I did, thank you so much Master but ‘s too much, stop, too much, no more,” Dan pleads, barely intelligible.

- Phil, the little shit, purposely misinterprets. “What’s that? You want me to make you cum over and over and then fuck you? Beg me.” No, that’s not what Dan wants, but he’s so far into subspace that he immediately starts begging, even though Phil’s already made up his mind. “You have permission to cum as much as you like.” He undresses then reaches for the lube, coats his fingers, and pushes two in at once. Dan’s used to it, and Phil knows how much Dan loves the burn of the sudden stretch. He seeks out Dan’s prostate quickly, and attacks it with his fingers, managing to get Dan to cum three more times (The last two dry) before he’s ready to fuck him, the wand still mercilessly against the head of Dan’s cock. He moves it when he pushes into Dan, and instead uses the hand to choke Dan again.

-”Sir, sir, Daddy, no, please, Daddy, Daddy, Phil too much, no!” Dan all but screams, sobbing, but Phil doesn’t- if Dan really wanted him to stop, he’d safeword. The fifth time Dan cums, he passes out. Phil. Doesn’t. Stop. He keeps fucking, and as he gets close, he takes Dan’s soft cock in his hand and jerks him off in time with it until Dan hits one last high, without even getting hard, moaning in his sleep and arching his back. Phil pulls out and looks at Dan, almost amazed. The boy’s neck is lined with hickeys and fingerprints, his cock and hole red and abused, come dripping out of him and drying on his chest. 

-While Dan’s still out, Phil starts a bath, brings in the wand and some water, and gently wipes the cum off of Dan with a damp warm washcloth. “Dan, sweetheart,” he whispers, shaking Dan’s shoulder. “Wake up, baby. Let Daddy take care of you.” Dan’s eyes blink open, unfocused, and his swollen lips are slightly parted. “Deep breath for me, Dan. Look at me.” It takes a minute, but Dan eventually does. “There you are. You did such a good job for me, baby. My beautiful little boy, doing so well for his Daddy.”

- “’M not pathetic?” Dan asks blearily.

- “Of course not, I love you so much, Dan. Can I pick you up and carry you to the bath?” Dan nods and winds his arms around Phil’s neck, allowing himself to be bridal carried to the bathroom. “What bath bomb, baby?” Dan looks over the basket of them and points to a dark midnight one with gold sparkles in it, marketed as being a lavender scent. Of course he picks the darkest one in there- even as out of it as he is, Dan has standards. Phil sets Dan on the toilet seat and drops in the bomb, waiting for it to fizzle all the way before lifting Dan up again and setting him in the hot water. While Dan relaxes, Phil wipes down the wand, brushes his teeth, and puts on his glasses in lieu of his contacts, occasionally glancing at Dan in the mirror to make sure he’s alright.

- As soon as he’s done, Phil whispers “lean forward” and climbs into the bath behind Dan, so that the younger is between his legs and leaning back against his chest. “Open your mouth.” Dan does, and Phil uncaps the water bottle to hold it to Dan’s lips, slowly getting him to drink the whole bottle. When it’s done and the bath is getting cold, Phil unplugs the drain and gets the warm water running again while he washes Dan’s hair. As he moves on to wash Dan’s body, he accidentally brushes Dan’s sensitive cock, earning the softest mewl of protest Phil’s ever heard, which makes his heart absolutely melt. “Don’t worry, we’re all done. After the bath, let’s go to bed, beautiful.”

- He carefully dries Dan off with a fluffy towel, and carries him back to Phil’s room. Dan’s room is where they scene, and then they sleep in Phil’s clean bed. “I know, I’ll be right back,” Phil says as he puts Dan down, since the boy made a soft sound of dissent. He pulls on a pair of boxers and grabs some clothes for Dan. “Arms up.” The green uni hoodie comes over Dan’s head. “Up for me real quick, baby.” Dan stands up long enough for a pair of boxers and soft pajama pants to be pulled onto him. “There you go. I love you so much, Dan. You did such a good job for me and I’m so proud of you,” Phil assures, kneeling and putting one hand on Dan’s face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. “My good little boy.”

- Dan throws his arms around Phil’s neck and cries, while Phil just holds him until it’s out of his system. “My good boy, Dan. You’re so amazing, I love you, you’re my perfect baby.” At that point, Dan pulls away and lets Phil kiss his forehead, then lies back on the bed with a slight shiver. Phil pulls the duvet back and gets both of them under it, then throws an arm over Dan’s waist, holding him close while they fall asleep.


This is 1.7k and thus a fic

-Matt

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