When I saw the special Monday, and that Lars was basically Lion, I was like ‘Why doesn’t he just burp or punch a portal through the air like lion does?’ And or why didn’t Steven just have Lion make a portal to get to Lars and the Off Colors? Many questions but any ways here was my progression and thought process. Thank you @sawsbuck for helpin me with bodies, and thank you to 7 Ink an overwatch friend for the idea to rotate the portal waves!
If you use my photos credit me or I’ll take action against you.
Summary: This was, without a doubt, the craziest thing you had ever done. Roughly inspired by the Goblet of Fire.
Tags: Grinding, oral sex, fingering, etc.
Note: To clarify any confusion, I am repostingmyold fics from BGS/theofficialrapmom here on HOBI since I previously removed them from Tumblr. Please do not attempt to send in plagiarism claims, as I assure you, I am the original content creator. For any questions, please feel free to contact me privately off of anon. Anonymous messages in regards to the reposting may be deleted if deemed rude/hateful.
Blackhat’s grey face was paler that normal. At his sides his fingers were curled up into a tight fist and shaking. He tried to hide the hitch in his breath, but it came out a hiccuped sob.
“What are these emotions!” Blackhat hissed, as tears gathers at the edges of his eyes. His chest heaved, and his reached out to grasp the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed. He cursed.
Red on red on red on red on red on white on HIM.
Blackhat was scrubbing at the hot tears running down his face and wanting to scream.
“WHY CAN’T I STOP THIS FEELING!?” he snarled.
It was that goddamn hero. They broke into the mansion and knocked Dementia out before she could scare them off. They went to Flug’s lab and were trying to convince him to “become a hero” and “do the right thing.” Things went south and they decided they were going to try and steal Flug’s inventions instead.
Blackhat cleared his throat and tried to fill his screaming lungs with oxygen. He splayed his hands on the edge of the bed to steady himself, but his arms kept trembling.
Flug had fought back.
Blackhat glanced up at the scarlet stained bandages disappearing under the fringes of Dr. Flugs paper bag. His eyebrows scrunched together in worry, and he fought down a sob. No, he could control himself; he didn’t need these emotions breaking his composure so thoroughly.
He’d come running into the lab after he’d seen Dementia knocked out cold. Flug was being held up by the lapels of his lab coat. The Hero saw Blackhat and aimed one of Flug’s guns at him. There was a scream of panic from the doctor, and he lashed out with a sharp hook to the hero’s jaw, therefore skewing their aim so the beam hit the wall and turned it to sludge
Then, Flug was hurled into the wall, hitting with a sickening CRACK. He had slumped to the floor without a sound; red leaking out from under his bag. Blackhat had exploded like a fire bomb.
His body had begun to change form; it expanded into an oily black sheet, and then into solid tentacles, razor-sharp tooth filled mouths, and bright yellow eyes. A roar came from deep within his mass, and then the hero was gone. Their body had been ripped to shreds, so nothing remained.
“You could have died…” Blackhat whispered again. He placed his hand over Dr. Flug that was laying on top of the sheets.
Black hat had turned around to see Flug lying eerily still.
Once at his doctor’s side, he could see the damage that had been done. Broken arm, probably a few broken ribs, definitely a concussion and …. was he breathing? Yes, there was a shallow lift in his chest every 7 or 8 seconds. There was so much blood through.
“How dare you make me feel like this,” Blackhat mumbled. “Make me… feel human. You had to go get yourself hurt like that…”
The lab was chilly, the corner where the hospital bed was even more so. Gently, Blackhat tugged the blankets up tighter under Flug’s armpits.Then he crossed his arms and leaned back in his hard plastic chair.
“I was worried about you,” Black hat admitted in the silence. “And I hate saying that because it make me feel so weak! I’m not some fragile human with an easily shattered heart, or a fluttery soul, or even chemically induced feelings! I’m… I’m…” Blackhat became really quiet as Flug shifted and groaned, his bag crinkling upwards to reveal his chin. Blackhat pulled it back down without thinking, but then he lingered, his clawed fingers caressing the doctor’s lower face.
It was like a slap to the face.
Blackhat pulled back and held his hand to chest like it had been burned.
“I- I- I don’t-,” he stammered. He shook his head violently, and then scoffed. “What am I doing? I’m a villain, I’m EVIL, I’m… I’m worried for him…” Blackhat swallowed, and let his fingers curl back around Flugs. He leaned forward and rest his head in his other hand as he stared at the doctors slowly rising chest. Blackhat was sure Flug would pull through this, but the red staining the bandages was still upsetting. Not so upsetting that Blackhat’s eyelids didn’t become heavy with sleep though.
Dementia came to check in on Flug after she made a few rounds of the mansion to make sure no other Hero’s had broken in. She was startled at first to find Blackhat fast asleep by her best friends bedside. But rather than question it, Dementia decided to crawl up onto the bed and curl up next to Flug like a guard dog. She’d keep them safe, she swore to herself as she settled in to watch. Nobody would hurt her friends under her protection, not unless they took her out first. And she never ever wanted to let that happen again
I hope this is kinda what you wanted anon!! This was fun to write, so thank you so much for the request!! Always feel free to send in more!
Partially inspired by this lovely Black Paladin Allura art
It’s Day 54 since the Black Lion opened and Shiro wasn’t inside. Day 54 since Team Voltron was beheaded. For someone who slept unchangingly through millennia, Allura feels strangely weightless amid the vast expanse of space surrounding her. She feels like she’s withering, despite the artificial gravity in the castle.
A soft Altean tune from her bedside clock chases away dreamless sleep. She rises the moment her eyes open. There is no day or night in space. It’s all artificial light and then natural darkness. The mice’s chittering, once so lively to her ears, is now background noise, no different than the constant hum of the castle’s power.
Allura leaves her plush bed with resolute steps. Today is Day 54. But it will also be Day 1. She knows what she must do. In her shower, she allows the water to envelope her before it’s sucked back into the ceiling vents.
Fifty-four days since Voltron was last formed. For 54 days, Keith has been trying to get the Black Lion to open for him, as Shiro had willed. Her heart lurches for the red paladin, burying his own grief under a thinly held veneer of leadership. Leadership. She dons her armor, its pink as close to black as any of the paladins’ colors are. Helmet under her arm, she moves to the control room.
1. Pluto - Sleeping At Last // 2. Neptune - Sleeping At Last // 3. In The Woods Somewhere - Hozier // 4. Fix You - Coldplay // 5. The Anchor - Bastille // 6. Two Evils - Bastille // 7. Bones - Low Roar // 8. Yellow Light - Of Monsters And Men // 9. The Enemy - Mumford and Sons // 10. Church In Ruins - Lera Lynn // 11. Mercy - Hurts
Annabeth heard the sound of skateboard wheels clunking over cement before she saw Percy sailing towards her. He was shirtless again, basking in the early morning sun, and the sight ignited a flame deep in Annabeth’s core. She stopped in the doorway of her dorm to watch him, in awe of the way his muscles tensed and flexed as he expertly guided the board along. God, what she wouldn’t give to feel those muscles tensing beneath her hands… Or her lips…
When Percy saw her he grinned and waved, kicking the board up and catching it easily. She shook herself out of her daydream and had to restrain herself from running to him. She stepped out of the doorway and waved.
“Hey,” he greeted as he strode over, smiling easily.
She smiled back instinctively, joyous at the mere sight of him. What had started as a purely physical attraction had blossomed into one of her dearest and fastest friendships, and even though she couldn’t deny how much she wanted to take things to the next level, Annabeth was surprised by how reluctant she was to rush Percy. She valued their unconventional friendship so much that she wasn’t quite yet willing to push its fragile boundaries and risk shattering the entire thing.
“Hey,” she said.
His hair was all over the place, like he’d only just taken his cap off. Annabeth had to grip the strap of her bag to stop herself from reaching out and ruffling it.
“So, you made it! We made it! Semester’s done, we’re ready for fun!”
“Did you mean for that to rhyme?”
“Nope, that was just an added bonus. You ready to go?”
flames that roared in the rusted, dinged up garbage illuminated the mischievous
grin that decorated his face. Casually throwing in one last handful of dried
twigs into the can, he glanced up from his work to find you standing with your
arms crossed tightly across your chest.
You ducked as a red blast skimmed your head, the whoosh of air behind it ruffling your hair. You cursed lightly, and gripped your wand tighter in your hand.
“Stupefy!” You yelled, pointing your wand at your attacker. Her legs buckled under her as she fell, knocked unconscious from your spell. You took this moment to catch your breath.
It was now an hour into the fight, and you had not seen sign of Harry, Ron or Hermione.
You ducked immediately, whipping your head to see Ginny standing behind you, her wand raised. You heard a dull thud and you turned your head to the sound. Ginny had blasted a pillar, whose debris had fallen onto a death eater, rendering them unconscious.
“Thanks Gin.” You grinned, accepting her outstretched hand and letting her pull you up. “The bridge?” You asked
“It’s gone. Neville nearly-”
“Protego!” You suddenly cast over Ginny’s shoulder, causing the dark robed wizard to stumble back and fall on his back.
“Petrifius Totalus!” Ginny cast as she turned, paralysing the death eater.
“Sorry, do continue.” You apologised.
“Neville nearly gave me a heart attack.” Ginny said, facing you once more.
“Oh bloody hell, what did he do now?”
“He nearly fell off the bridge.”
“Merlin’s beard, did he really? Well, one things for sure,” You spoke, walking towards the castle, “He may finally have the guts to ask Luna out.”
Ginny laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I bloody hope so.”
You glanced around the corridor and saw a pair of fourth years battling a death eater, one of them slumped against the wall as the other fought to protect their friend. You narrowed your eyes and raised your wand, walking towards them.
“Filthy mud-bloods!” The death eater spat, raising his wand once again.
“Expelliarmus!” You yelled, catching the wand that flew out of the death eater’s hand. The death eater removed his mask, and you saw it was a male, with slicked back hair and a sharp, thin jaw covered with a short beard. You recognised him as Travers, a death eater who had been once imprisoned in Azkaban, but had escaped in the mass-breakout.
“Traitor!” He hissed, walking towards you, “You are a pure-blood, why would you defend these disgusting low-life mud-bloods?!”
You smiled and revelled in the look of surprise on his face. “They are one of us, bitch.” You spat, before pulling back your arm and punching him in the face.
“OW!” He yelled, clutching his bloody nose as he stumbled backwards, “Bloody traitor, how dare you! Voldemort will-”
“Screw Voldemort.” You replied, grabbing the back of his head and raising your knee, smashing his face. You stepped back and let go of his head, Travers slumped to the floor, blood streaked around his face.
You glanced over at the fourth years, who were now looking at you with slack jaws and wide eyes. “Are you alright?” You asked, offering them a smile.
“THAT WAS AMAZING!” They shrieked together, eyes wide with excitement. You chuckled slightly, looking back at the slumped figure.
“Thanks.” You smiled, glancing over to look at Ginny who you had found had already gone off to fight someone else. “You guys were pretty amazing yourself, you were doing well.” You complimented, crouching down next to the male fourth year who seemed to be in pain. You noticed a trail of blood running under his thigh and upon closer inspection found multiple deep gashes.
“Shit!” He cursed in pain when his friend knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his arm.
“We need to stop the bleeding.” The dark skinned friend with warm eyes muttered, applying pressure to the wound.
“May I?” You asked, looking at the injured male for consent. He nodded briefly, sighing as he leaned back and closed his eyes in pain. “Vulnera Sanentur.” You muttered, tracing the wound with your wand. The flow of blood eased, and the wounds knitted themselves back together.
The fourth year sighed in relief from the pain you patted his shoulder gently before getting up. You glanced out of the window, starting at the giant that crushed and stomped on the fighters on the front lines.
You stepped back from the duo and raised your arm, “Accio broom!” You called. You waited a moment before you heard the steady whoosh of air. You grinned and caught the wooden handle of the broom, it fitting into your hands like it always did. You nodded briefly to the pair of fourth years, “Keep fighting lads, we need you.” You encouraged. They glanced at each other before grinning at you, nodding.
You smiled before walking out of the door with a deep breath. You glanced up, seeing the starry sky and remembering a time when you and Draco had sneaked out of the castle to star gaze. You smiled sadly at the happy memory before mounting your broom, taking off in the direction of the guttural roars.
“Y/N! We need to bring down the last giant!” Oliver Wood yelled, his hair ruffling in the wind. You nodded, glancing down at the ugly creature as it raised it’s hands the size of cars, trying to swat you out of the sky. “We use the stunning spell, with all of us at once, it should be enough to send him crashing!”
You nodded once, before diving towards Charlie, who was mounted on his own broom. “Hey! Charlie!” You yelled, pulling up beside him.
“Hey.” He said, throwing a dash of fire towards a group of death eaters, “What’s the plan?”
“Stunning spells.” You stated, grinning at him. His lips curved into a grin, his brown eyes lighting up. “Just like dragons.”
“Just like dragons.” He laughed, diving to tell Angelina.
Within two minutes everyone was in their positions, surrounding the giant, swerving only to dodge the meaty paws of the giant.
“READY?” Oliver called? Your hand gripped around your wand tighter, and you steadied your broom, “NOW!”
“STUPEFY!” You yelled. Red jets of lights blew up the sky, each hitting the giant. He groaned and staggered on his feet, his mouth opening to let out a roar, revealing yellowing, crooked teeth. He swayed on the spot and you watched with bated breath as it fell with a large THUD to the ground.
You cheered loudly, the sound being echoed by your friends, pointing your wand at the giant, watching large iron shackles bound his hands and feet. Thick chains wound their way around it’s body forcing his arms to it sides as his head rolled to the side, his tongue flopping out like a dog.
You grinned as you saw the death eaters falter, their confidence visibly shrinking as their vast friend slept on the ground. You glanced down at the battle field, and saw four death eaters boxing in two students from Hufflepuff who were in your Charms class. You frowned as you swept down, pushing your broom to go faster as you saw the short male stumble back.
You stumble onto your legs as you landed, immediately casting a shield charm as you stood next to the female Hufflepuff, Susan Bones.
“Thanks.” She muttered, barely sending you a single glance as she deflected a shot of green light. You nodded, your attention solely on helping defeat these persistent death eaters that you didn’t notice one of the death eaters stumble slightly, freezing at the sight of you.
The male Hufflepuff, Ernest MacMillan, had regained his footing and was shooting arrows from the tip of his wand, all of which were being destroyed but his opposer.
“What are you doing, boy?” A voice hissed, “Fight!”
No, it couldn’t be. You turned your attention to the frozen death eater and when your eyes locked onto the blue orbs you were so familiar with, your heart stopped. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt tears prick your eyes at the sight of someone you thought you would never see again.
notes: Well this is it everyone. I decided to put the final two chapters together because that’s how I wanted to end it. I honestly cried a little bit writing this, NH just gives me a lot of emotions and to be able to have an opportunity to write something that is heart breaking and angst filled but carries so much love was amazing. I’m going to thank himawarisuzumaki one more time for an amazing prompt that I hijacked. Again, thanks for the support, here’s the final chapters of The Wish, please enjoy!
In a world where love is forgotten, love always finds
I’ve always had this Star Wars headcanon that different lightsaber colors have different hums, and that they can kind of be described with two key features: pitch (high to low) and reverb (hum to growl)
Green lightsabers are the softest and most elegant. They have a higher pitch than most, and hum incredibly softly. When held still, they make almost no noise. And when swung, the sound is light and pretty.
Blue lightsabers have a lower pitch, and the thick humming is constant. It’s not loud, but it’s certainly noticeable.
Red lightsabers have the lowest pitch, and practically growl when active. The energy coming out of them is thick and heavy and apparent. They’re loud and sturdy and brutal.
Purple lightsabers have a pitch similar to blue sabers, maybe a bit lower, but the hum isn’t as thick or heavy.
Yellow lightsabers are higher pitched than blue, more around the range of green, but they tend to growl like red. Maybe not as strong, and it may not be apparent when they’re held still, but when swung, yellow sabers roar and crack and growl with an odd-fitting elegance.
I’m not even going to attempt white or black sabers, I’ll just leave it as these five main canon colors for now
In the heart of Middle America there was a small town called Olympus, a town of picket fences, green lawns, and friendly folks. In this town lived a beautiful young girl called Persephone. Her father, Mayor Zeus, often described her as ‘the perfect embodiment of the wholesome, all-American values Olympus stands for’, an opinion which had kept him in office for many years. Indeed, his subjects couldn’t deny the prom queen and class presidents’ charm, especially when she was working with her mother, Demeter’s, at the local florists, where she sang her weekends away.
“Watch out, Zeus. She’ll be running off to LA one of these days. And with a sweet voice like that they’ll make her a star in no time”, Zeus’ friends at the country club would joke.
“Aw no, not my Persephone,” the mayor would shake this head. “She loves this town and her Ma and Pa too much to ever wander that far.”
But one weekend, on the first day of autumn, Persephone’s song was drowned out by the roar of a dozen motorcycles. Curious she stopped what she was doing and watched the dust settle as they growled to a halt outside the florists. The riders, clad in studded black leather jackets, were none other than the infamous Hades and his gang The Underworld, the most feared motorcycle gang in the land. The customers eyed them warily and backing away slowly as they strode into the store and straight up to young Persephone. She looked up at them, her nervous stare reflected in their dark sunglasses.
“Can I help you, sirs?” She asked, directing the question at the biggest one, whom she assumed to be their leader. He smiled out the corner of his mouth, where he held a smoking cigarette between his teeth. He took it out, flicking the ashes into a vase of roses.
“You Persephone?” He asked, a white mist circling his face as he spoke.
“Wow, you’re even more beautiful than they said,” he said, rubbing some kind of white powder from his nose. Before Persephone could answer a black sack was pulled over her head! She screamed but was quickly silenced by the click of a gun as the leader pointed the barrel at her terrified mother behind the counter.
“Nobody move or a bullet goes in her pretty little head,” he snarled tapping the barrel against Persephone’s forehead.
All Demeter could do was watch helplessly as they dragged her out of the shop, threw her onto the back of Hades’ bike, and speed away like demons in a cloud of smoke.
The moment they left the town spiralled into panic as the search for their beloved Persephone began. But no one, not even Mayor Zeus himself, was more distort than Demeter, who worked relentlessly to find her daughter. She went on all the news channels, pleading to Hades to give her back. She drove to every roadhouse and bar, demanding information on the gang’s whereabouts. She paced her home all night waiting for the phone to ring with demands of ransom. All the while the flowers in her store withered and died without her care and the streets outside were abandoned the moment darkness descended, the town hiding behind closed doors, listening for the roar of motorcycles.
When the call finally came to Mayor Zeus’ office, his wife begged him to give them anything they wanted. This he did, against strong advice from the police, whom he told to never go near the bikers, as per the demands.
But it wasn’t until the dawn of spring that Persephone returned. However, the girl Demeter threw her arms around looked very different.
She came to them alone, riding a Harley Davison with spray painted flowers along the side. She donned a studded black leather jacket. A blood red streak that matched her painted lips ran through her golden locks, which had now been sheered short. And a blue bruise on her fair cheek. Even her scent of roses had been replaced with the stink of cigarette smoke. But it was the fine white powder she rubbed off her nose that told Demeter with a twist in the gut that she was not the same girl that was so brutally taken from her.
“Oh what did they do to you, my darling?!” she cried.
“What no one has ever done for me: given me freedom”, Persephone told her.
“Did they give you that terrible bruise?” her father pointed at her face.
“No Father, they never laid a finger on me. I got it of my own accord.” This was all she had to say on the matter, and that of her former captors.
And so Persephone returned to her life in Olympus, acting as if nothing had ever happened. This was despite the name embroidered on her jacket being the only proof to the townsfolk this scarlet-lipped girl was indeed the mayor’s daughter. With her back in the store the flowers flourished once again under her gentle touch, and the town gradually ascended back into peace. But Demeter noticed she hardly sang anymore, and when she did her voice was tinged with sadness. She didn’t want to think of why, or recognise the distant look in her eyes. But as the leaves yellowed and the roar of motorcycles rumbled through the crisp air she knew there was nothing she could do to stop her precious daughter rushing out, jumping onto the back of Hades’ bike, and wrapping her arms around him. Once more she could only watch her speed off in a cloud of dust and smoke, and wait for spring to bring her back again.
Autumn Leaves ~ Ed Sheeran // Dismantling Summer ~ The Wonder Years // Chocolate ~ The 1975 // Home for Fall ~ Real Friends // Remembering Sunday ~ All Time Low // Home ~ Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros // Wake Me Up When September Ends ~ Green Day // Runnin’ Scared ~ Aaron West and The Roaring Twenties // Yellow ~ Coldplay // Ho Hey ~ The Lumineers // Shattered ~ O.A.R // Skinny Love ~ Birdy // All Too Well ~ Taylor Swift // So Far (It’s Alright) ~ The 1975