all of their hairs look like animal ears

2

One thing that befuddles me about kemonomimi is that the ears are usually placed on top of the head, which raises all sorts of questions about how they function. Human skulls are different from animal skulls, and if these characters have mostly human anatomy with a few animal features, having ears positioned directly atop the head would mean that there are holes in the skull that exposes the brain, which…leaves it open and vulnerable.

So I decided to see what the Kitsune would look like if they followed their Wolfskin counterpart’s example of “Anatomically Correct Ear Placement”

6

The stages of my son during a hike:

1. Curiosity. Loves pointing out all the birds he can see. As soon as he hears rushing water, he immediately screams in my ear “water!” and tries to find it.
2. Exploration. I showed him that the baby crabs like to hide under rocks so he spent about 30 minutes straight picking up rocks and saying “baby??” hoping to see a baby crab. When he did find one, he looks at me and asks “I touch?”. No, baby. Please don’t touch the animal with little pinchers. 
3. Exhaustion. One of my favorite parts because he’s so comfortable nestled right into my chest. I play with his hair and hold my hand on his back because wearing him just doesn’t bring him close enough to me.

Day well spent with my son.

safe | percival graves

prompt: 78 and 113 from the prompt list with Percival? Thank you! ;w; ♡ “what do you mean you thought I hated you when we first met” “can you please be happy for me for five minutes.” + “i’m always happy for you.”

theme: idk this is fluff with pre and post grindelwald so a little angst too jk be prepared for destruction and heart ache, my next percival graves story will be fluffy

warnings: obvious torture and stuff, a few cusses, PTSD

author note: ah I’m 200 away from 4K my loves & this is kinda ok

Originally posted by percivalgravessource

Tick

Tock

His time was running out.

With every sideways glance and look cast over his shoulder to the shadows that followed him, he had become acutely aware that time was falling through his fingertips. Everyone had noticed his–odd behavior. No one said anything though, sometimes people got a bit paranoid but usually they shook it off within a couple of weeks. Not him. Nights when he was walking to your apartment for dinner he could hear the footsteps following him. His wand always ready–just in case.

He hadn’t expected to be taken in broad daylight though. Kissing your cheek as he said goodbye as the two of you went separate ways for work. You were in the field that day and he was suppose to go fill out the rest of his paper work from the last case your department was on. Only, he could see the building when his entire body tended and the burning feeling began. Splitting him open and he wanted to scream but his mouth wouldn’t open. He watched the building and wondered why no one could see him, no one was coming to help him. That moment was torture, the beginnings of it though. This part, despite the pain, was a kind of mental torture. Tauntingly, you almost made it.

He feels his body force itself up and he is moved from the street and then he’s in what looks to be a basement. The man who had his hand securely grasped onto his coat throws him to the ground with a thud. The word Crucio being repeated like wildfire–ironically that’s what his entire body felt like.

Now he could scream and he felt like the screams were being ripped from his body. Nonstop, the burning sensation continued for longer than he felt he could handle. His hands trying, in a primitive way, to rip his clothes away as if that would make the feeling stop.

Grindelwald stood before him smugly, “what do you say we make this easy. You can join me and ever have to feel this again or–you can suffer everyday until I get what I want most.”

Grindelwald side steps when Percival goes to attack him, grabs the man by the back of his hair and slams his face into a wall. Busting the side of his mouth open and blood to pool into his mouth and down his chin. He tries to jerk out of the man’s grasp but even he knows it’s futile. All he can do is hope that someone comes for him. Then his head is snatched back and Grindelwald is practically dragging him–miraculously through the room. Percival was not a small man. He took pride is being fit and it was necessary for the job. So, how this man was pulling him with such ease was beyond him. Finally, his back slammed into a chair and a charm was set so he wouldn’t be able to get out of the chair.

Grindelwald’s fingers came to pat his cheek softly, a smile consuming his face, “oh, Mr. Graves, you’ll be singing a new tune before I’m done with you.”

Crucio.

He woke up on his couch with his hair in his face. You were probably long gone after the stunt he had pulled. He wasn’t a man to let people in–feelings were a liability in his job. Leverage. Leverage he never wanted to give anyone, though his Momma wanted him to hurry up and settle down. Give her some grand-babies. Carry on the family name.

He pushed himself up with the base of his palms and rubbed his eyes. He could still taste the fire whiskey in his mouth and the feeling of your lips against his. It had only lasted for a few seconds before you pulled away and excused yourself and left his apartment. He stood up and unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off in exchange for something more comfortable.

Stupid, stupid, you idiot, he thought, why would you do that. Of all things. Kissing [y/n] bye like she could have actually felt the same. She was only here for work and you–you let your feelings get in the way.

He walked into his kitchen and opened his refrigerator. Glancing around to see what exactly–if any leftovers were in there. Wasn’t likely, when he got drunk and in his feelings he tended to eat his leftovers cold. He slammed it shut and then went to his pantry. Stopping when he heard a soft knock come from his door.

He sighed and went to the door. Debating whether to open it or leave the person on the other side knocking took longer than he thought but he opted for seeing who would be there at–1:27 in the afternoon. Breathing in and opening the door slowly, “listen, I don’t care what you want, I don’t want to buy it.”

The two of you looked at each other for a moment before his mouth went dry and his chest got tight. Bless his façade though, his face never changed from his usual stoic expression.

“Listen, I’m really sorry that I ran last night after you kissed me. I wasn’t really expecting it because I know you have this whole policy that romantic relationships are a waste of time and I thought you hated me when we first met–not that I think you hate me now–and I wasn’t sure what to do and–”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he brought his hand up, “what do you mean you thought I hated you when we first met?”

You breathed in sharply and looked around the hall and then back to your boss. Pressing your lips together and then wringing your hands together and swallowing. Percival Graves hated everyone, at least, that’s what everything in his department thought.

He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes and then shook his head, “I’ve never hated you–I’m sorry if it seemed like that. I’ve always been attracted to you and I wasn’t sure how exactly to act on it so I might have come off harsh. And I’m sorry that I kissed you last nigh, it wasn’t very gentlemen like of me.”

Awkward silence filled the empty space between your words. Percival looking down at you and you looking anywhere but him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his neighbor loitering in the hall to hear what was happening so she had something to gossip about later. Old women.

He could hear her mumbling to whoever was standing inside her apartment. Probably one of the ladies from her church. “I never thought Percival Graves would be having a conversation like this–I know she was there last night–obviously he was being indecent–hm, no idea, hopefully she’s slap him–oh wait, I think they’re going to admit they’re in love–oh.”

“Would you like to, uh, get lunch with me?” He asked hesitantly, “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

”I’d love to.”

When Grindelwald was discovered you weren’t very surprised–well you were but it had been one of those moments where all you could do was press your palms together and sigh. Obviously, Percival was acting different and since you were suppose to be on a relationship with him you noticed the most.

The man didn’t want to tell anyone where Percival was either. He loved to watch the MACUSA squirm, especially about this. He did describe everything he did to him though, all the terrible, horrible things that you knew had destroyed him.

“Oh,” Grindelwald sighed, “he’s a fighter. He never would join me. Even when I told him that I had killed you. He didn’t believe it but I showed him so false memories and I had him crying like the boy he truly is. It’s been about four months now since I first convinced him you were dead.”

You escorted yourself from the room.

The President didn’t tell you what made the man tell them were Percival was but he did and you were the first person sent in to locate him. She said it probably be better for him, to see someone that loved him. You agreed and left immediately.

The place were he was said to be was a small, run down house just outside of the city. The inside was well kept up as Grindelwald and his fanatics often met just above where he was keeping the man. Glancing around the rooms it all seemed to normal. It wasn’t particularly gloomy in the house and it actually looked like a family lived there–though you knew otherwise.

Eventually, and with your heart in your throat, you made your way to the basement. The light was still on and it smelt stale as you made you way down the steps and into the room. You could see the blood, what had had down plastered on the walls and in the middle of the room was Percival.

You slowly made your way toward him, treating him much like a caged animal. He was barely breathing and his eyes were fluttering as if he was about to fall asleep but you assumed he had been this was for awhile. His hair had grown past his ears and a beard hugged his cheeks. All you could think was about how long he had been there.

“Percival.” You called to the man once. His face jerked and you could finally see him. The hollowness of his cheeks and the dead look in his eyes. What looked like cigarette burn in his skin–because it wasn’t enough to just torture him with magic–and his scabbed over lips from too much hitting.

Your hand came out to cup the side of his face but he jerked away from you, “this is–this is a trick. [y/n] is dead.”

Your chest tightened and you shook your head, “no, Percival. No it isn’t. I’m here, here to take you home.”

Wild eyes stared at you for a long time, trying to decipher the truth. As if he had seen this exact scenario play in front of him and million times before. Fighting with what his brain thought was true and what his eyes were showing him and looked away. His neck, a field of blossomed bruises in the shape of hands. When he realized you had seen it–him–all of him and what he had been shrunk down too–he looked down to his lap.

“When I get you out of the chair I’ll give you some water and food if you like. I brought a little because I assumed you want some. Nothing special but whenever you come home I’ll make you whatever you want and there’s this muggle pastry shop just around the block from my apartment that I’ll take you to sometime.” You rushed the words from your mouth and you unraveled the charms that kept him pin to the chair whenever Grindelwald and his fanatics weren’t slapping him around.

He stood on weak legs that threatened to give on themselves and refused your help up the stairs. Though, you kept one hand on his back for good measure. If he wasn’t so broken, when he wasn’t so broken, he would be embarrassed that you saw him in such a state. Though, as his knees gave and you grabbed him, it wasn’t a time to worry.

He sat on his knees, your arms still wrapped around him and he started to cry. Never in your life would you have thought you’d see him cry but there he was. His body in trembling beneath your touch and a lit of swears flew into the air. Then he was apologizing to you for what he did. For letting him take him and not being strong enough to keep him away.

“No, sweetheart. This isn’t your fault. You don’t need to apologize for what happened here. I swear, I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him.

He comes home a week later when the hospital’s done all they can for him. They can’t heal his mind or the scars and that ruins him a little more. You take him to your apartment; that’s where he’s going to live. It’s better that way, easier to keep an eye on him.

When you bring him through the door he just stands there. Breathing in and looking around because he was gone so long but you hadn’t changed anything. His clothes consume him and despite the healers abilities he’ll walk with a slight limp because of the constant damage to his right leg.

“I moved your stuff here, your clothes and your belongings.” You stand beside him and put your hand on his back, he flinches away and you drop your hand completely. Guilt consumes him like his clothes when he watches you walk toward the kitchen.

He sleeps for three days, curled up on your side on the bed and clutching your pillow. A soft reminded that he won’t ever have to go back to that basement. You make him whatever he asks–which is homemade pasta like his momma used to make and bring him hot chocolate. It’s easy to tell he feels like a burden and wishes you wouldn’t take care of him but you kiss his forehead and tell him you love him–he isn’t sure if believes it for a long time.

Most days you have to go to work and when you come back his shoulders are set and he’s sitting by the window and staring. At what, you aren’t sure. Possibly the people whose lives will never be affected like this. Jealousy runs through him until you come and sit by him and ask what he wants for dinner.

He’d been home for three months and had made some improvements. Reverted back to some of his old ways, as well. He was still riddled with nightmares that just caused him to curl into your body in fear. When you didn’t wake up he’d lay there, pressed against you, every little noise causing him to jump slightly. On the other hand, when you were awake and pulling him close and wrapping him in the blanket, he always shivered when he woke up from nightmares, you would kiss the side of his head and tell him that it was okay now, that he was safe, no one was ever going to hurt him like that again.

One day, with your patience running thin from work, you walked in and walked to him like you usually did. Sitting by him and glancing out the window, trying to keep the volatile emotions down. Your eyes focused on the little people below, knees knocking with his as the sun began to settle into the horizon.

Everyday you got off at the same time, no matter the situation. They wanted Percival back and that meant letting you out early to try and bring him a little bit more back into the real world.

Unexpectedly, he places his hand on your cheek, “Can I help you today?”

Kissing the palm of his scarred hand you nod and the two of you go to the kitchen.

Percival hated himself after what happened. His now scarred body, the nightmares, the pitiful looks people gave him. He hated it, all of it. Some days you would find him looking at himself in the mirror. You had got his weight back on him and he exercised regularly but it was too different for him now. Too much ugly and his voice–it hadn’t changed it every time he heard it it drove him up the wall and he wished he didn’t speak. Speaking had become rare.

He was helping you bake some garlic chicken and making homemade rolls because he loved them and you’d do anything to make him happy. Flour was everywhere and you were laughing and he looked like he wanted to–but you could still feel the annoyance rolling up into your throat. Not for what happened but the people the surrounded you when it did. Their reactions.

“I got promoted today, Head of Magical Customs and Trade.” You smiled to him but he didn’t make a sound. Just continue with what he was doing–which happened the be mashed potatoes at that moment.

You clenched your jaw, “isn’t that great?”

He shrugged, and the Lord knows you didn’t want to get angry with him and cause him to jump like that and drop the bowl and he already thinks he can’t do anything right.

Can you please just be happy for me–for five minutes.

He’s frightened for a moment by the tone in your voice before he bends down to pick up the broke bowl and then clean the food off the ground. Mumbling to you in a pitiful voice, “I’m always happy for you.”

Then you’re next to him and he’s slightly shaking and it causes piece of the bowl to cut his hand but not enough to count. You grab his hands and he drops the pieces back to the floor. His face is getting red and you quickly clean the mess and sit him down in the living room.

Your pull him close to you, his body shaking and you know he’s going to have flashbacks, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I’m so so sorry Perci.”

His hands grab at your sides and he squeezes his eyes shut and he knows you didn’t mean to yell–he could see the frustration in your features from the moment you stepped in that day but it still scared him and then he was wondering what kind of man gets scared like that? Over something like that.

“What does that say about me then? I couldn’t handle it.” He’s laughing but it’s forced and you lean him back and look him in the eyes with a seriousness he hadn’t seen since you first brought him to the hospital. When you told him you loved him while he lay in the bed.

You swallow, “it makes you the strongest man I’ve ever known.”

Later that night, when he wakes up from one of his nightmares in a cold sweat, he kisses you on the mouth. The first time since you found him in the basement. Bruising, he’s missed you and needed you and he isn’t better and you both know that but you love each other and you’re hands are pulling him close to you so he knows he’s safe and that’s what matters.

James (Logan) Howlett’s code name should be the Lynx, not Wolverine.

It is clear that all of Wolverine’s most iconic characteristics are more related to the lynx than they are to the wolverine.


First, let’s look at his hair.

See the tufts of hair above his ears?  A lynx has those.

The wolverine does not.

Speaking of Wolverine’s hair, what about mutton chops?

Those look a lot like the mutton chop-like hair that a lynx has.

The wolverine, not so much.

And of course, there are the retractable claws that Wolverine can slide in and out.

Originally posted by snarkyfancat

Guess which animal has retractable claws! That’s right, the lynx! The claws can be in.

The claws can be out.

The wolverine also has claws, but they aren’t retractable. See them all sticking out! They are always out! Always!

And, of course, we all know that Wolverine is Canadian.

Sure both wolverines and lynxes can be found in Canada, but there is a species of lynx that is specifically named the Canadian Lynx.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canada_lynx

And there are coins! Canadian Lynx coins!

The wolverine, however, is most associated with the Michigan Wolverines.

Pretty sad. But it doesn’t end there.  We all know that Wolverine is one of the shortest of Marvel’s characters.

Similarly, the lynx is one of the shortest of the non-domestic cats (the Felidae family.)

While the wolverine is one of the largest of the Mustelidae family.

And there you have it, fandom. James Howlett is a lynx-like mutant with little in common with the wolverine. We must demand that the name be changed to THE LYNX! We will march on the Marvel offices! March to the copyright offices! March! MARCH, I SAY!

(It’ll never happen.)

long time no see | Seph & Rocket

That voice. Something about the catch of that voice made her spine shiver. The way he drew in air made her body shift and she suddenly clutched the belt buckle to her chest as if it was going to end her life to let it drop.

“My husband gave me this. You’re not getting it.”

She turned; her face was dirty and her hair disheveled, her frame so thin she could’ve been an emaciated corpse. The look in her eyes when she recognized his face was nearly as hollow as her cheeks. A gasp left her lips and her back end hit the dirt.

Once he heard her voice, it seemed like it all clicked back into place. His ears would have perked up had he been in his smaller, animal body, but now, it seemed like all he could do was crinkle his brows into confusion. His lips thinned and upon the realization on who she said gave it to her, memories poured in as his hand nearly shook from the restraint he held onto.

“What—” He started before she turned towards him. She was but a shell of the person who she used to be, but nothing could stop him from recognizing her more than her beautiful telling eyes. “Sephora?” He nearly choked out, dropping the gun out of his hands as he watched he drop to the ground. “I…I never thought I’d…see you again.” His voice nearly cracked.

@astudyinflames

anonymous asked:

do you have any tips for differentiating between wolves and agouti dogs? I can usually tell the difference naturally, but I can't really back it up because I don't know what the differences I notice actually are. I just see a lot of people with GSD/malamute/husky mixes claiming that they're wild wolves and I don't want to correct them without having my own shit together first.

I’m so bad at explaining this too, but I’ll try! :) 

Firstly, the agouti color is very unatural type of gray for a wolf. It’s way too plain gray. Instead of having just one shade of gray, wolves usually have a lot more brown, black and/or white in their fur.

[x] [x]

Another way to distinct a wolf from an agouti dog can be the charachteristic back markings of the wolf. Some dogs (including agouti dogs) might have something similar, but it’s never quite the same! Below is a picture of a wolf where the markings are quite distinct and easy to see. Some wolves have less distinct markings, and summer coats tend to be more blaze than winter coats, so they might not always be so easy to see. Anyhow, most wolves have it so just look closely. 

Back markings on a light black wolf: 

[x] [x]

However, I think what is best is to learn the differeces in body type between wolf-like dogs/dogs and wolves rather than color differences. Especially when it comes to wolfdogs seeing as the mix can have the color of a dog, but still have wolf in them. How people indetify wolfdogs is to look for wolfy traits in the body building rather than the color. Like this wolfdog below that has a agouti-similar color which is not a natural color for a pure wolf. Still, the dog has some wolf in him.  

[x]

The wolfy traits I see on the wolfdog above is mainly in the head. The head itself is very slim, and the facial feautres as well is pretty wolfy - long narrow snout, yellow wolf eyes etc. Agouti dogs that are often mistaken for wolves are typically huskies and malamutes. These dogs have shorter more compact head shapes, shorter legs and a more compact body, curled tails or wavy tails (wolf tails are always straight and they are hanging straight down for most of the time. Lips are more droopy, ears are a little longer whereas wolves have shorter ears, and they stand a little more outwards on wolves rather than straight up. The fur on these dogs also look more dense, probably because wolves have a lot more and a lot longer cover hairs. Facial markings are also very different from wolves and huskies/malamutes which is a very easy way to determine whether the animal is a wolf or a dog. 

German shepherds of working lines are also often mistaken for wolves, but once you learn the difference they don’t look like wolves AT ALL! There’s no similarities whatsoever. Yes, both have standing ears, but that’s about it. Wolves have small ears pointing outwards, while GSDs have big ears pointing upwards. The backs on even the working line shepherds are more slope than with wolves. Head/neck are placed very different. Shepherd muzzles are wide and shorter than the wolf’s narrow, long snout, their tails are too long and often have a swing at the end.

[x] [x]

Differing wolves from dogs is one thing, but differing wolfdogs from pure dogs can be even trickier as the dog and wolf traits melt into one another. It takes a lot of knowledge and training to see the difference sometimes. You have to know the charachteristic of the body types and body features of not only wolves, but a lot of different dogs too. If you want to learn how to separate dogs from wolfdogs I recommend that you follow blogs such as yourdogisnotwolfdog. They consists almost entirely of posts explaining how they know the animals is a wolfdog or a pure wolf. 

Hope this helps at least a little! 

Secrets - Part One

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Ravi x You

Warning: None

AN: I have slayed the dragon called procrastination and conquered the mountain called writer’s block. This was actually one of my half-written stuff from my last bout of writer’s block, and I rewrote chunks of it. I originally wanted to post the whole thing as one part, but then it reached 3,500 words with only ¼ of the plot finished. Plus, what better way to celebrate Chained Up’s 1st Win? In good news, I just finished what will be Part Two. I just need to edit that and decide if I’ll continue to a part three. IDK, I think I just love this scenario for giving me some fluffy angst to write. Before any of you ask: I needed a break from Leo. I’m working on it.

Half of this was a request from an anon a looong time ago, and the other half was just my imagination doing things. 

[Part Two ; Part Three]

Keep reading

@clockworksinger answered: skeleton war :3c

GET SPOOP

Dipper blipped onto the front yard of the Shack and froze. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised to see the sight in front of him, and yet he was.

“Mabel!” He tried and failed to keep the indignant tone from his voice. Mabel, clad in a GFHS letterman jacket, beads in her hair, looked up at him from her seat on the grass.

“What’s got your goat Dipper?” she asked. Then she reached out and poked a sleeping Gompers next to her. “Heh, goat.”

Dipper felt his ears and cheeks heat up like he was still Mabel’s sweaty teenage brother (as opposed to Mabel’s being of pure energy and thought brother.)

“Mabel, can you please stop decorating my horde of the undead?”

All throughout the yard were skeletons, constructed from human and animal bones and earth into twisted forms, brought back to a semblance of life through his will alone. Dipper had big plans tonight. Rumblings had reached his ears that Kashnalia the Eater had their many eyes on his territory. He had never gone toe to toe with a demon as old or as powerful as Kashnalia before: the demon in him hungered for the fight, for blood and fury, even as his human half recoiled in disgust. But both parts of him agreed that this was one fight that he and the Flock would need some back up for. Thus the undead army.

He had left them on the lawn for two minutes-two minutes!-to check with Fluffernutter to see how preparations were going in the Mindscape. But this was his sister so in those two minutes she struck. Blood and dirt covered bones were now coated in plastic rhinestones, Mabel having bedazzled every square inch of each skeleton on the lawn. Bows were propped on skulls and tied on ribs and tibias. Fangs were wrapped in tin foil that Mabel had colored in different colors with Crayola markers. The entire contents of Mabel’s jewelry box hung from neckbones and phalanges. Warriors created only to rip, tear and destroy sat patiently docile while Mabel painted the last bones on their feet and hands (in lieu of nails.)

Mabel looked up and waved gaily. “Hey Dipper! You left these guys all alone and so I thought it was a good time for Make Over Time!!!”

“They’re my dread army of the undead Mabel!” As soon as the words left his mouth Dipper cringed. Oh god, Mabel was going to get him now…

“Dread army? What are you, the bad guy from a movie? Ooooo or maybe a video game!”

Mabel.

She finished painting the toe bones of one skeleton and beckoned over the next one. “Here Reginald!”

“Mabel, don’t name them! They’re going to dissolve by like, tomorrow. I think.”

Mabel gasped and covered the area where ears would have been if Reginald had had flesh. “Dipper, not where they can hear!”

Dipper sighed. “Mabel, these are just semi-autonomous puppest of my will and….is that a pink Hello Kitty headband?”

“Uh-huh.”

“They’re supposed to inspire fear and terror! Not be, um…” Dipper stuttered on the last word. “-pretty.”

“Well, you know what mister, I just bet that that other demon-“

“Kashnalia.”

“Yeah Cornhole. I bet they’re going to expect scary. They won’t expect-“ She waved her hands at the yard and the beings assembled there. “-BEAUTY!

Dipper opened his mouth, and shut it again.

Maybe Mabel had a point.

(As it turned out, skeletons bedecked in plastic jewels and several kinds of pain inspired fear and fought just as well as those that didn’t.)

Black Mamba

Paring: Joker and Harley Point of view: Harley Quinn Disclaimer: Gif not owned/posted by me. Basing: “Black Mamba” By glass animals

-

Originally posted by sensualkisses

Everything started out fuzzy, but warm. It was inviting to be awaken to something soothing instead of the cold places you were used to. For a minute, it felt like home. With eyes opened, reality set in, but this time it was pleasant. You were surrounded by a room larger then anything you ever were used to. Feathers from pillows circled around in the air, your pale hand slowly creeping up to grab one for yourself. You felt like a bird, finally free. You were now free to do whatever you liked. For who knows how long, that is. The time was around eleven thirty and you know what that meant. A glass of water sat on the table next to you. You couldn’t help but smile. “Thoughtful.” You whispered, taking a sip. Your legs slipped out of the bed as you tossed a shirt on, spending some time playing with those damn buttons that just drive you mad. On your way out, you peeked in the mirror, your makeup was smudged from the eventful night- Perfect. Your feet padded against the flooring as you heard the soft but harsh sound of the one you wanted to see most. 

“What it’ll be now, Mister mole. Whisper sloth in curls of smoke. Take a seat back, or play pharaoh, Dance with me and shake your bones.“ 

You crept in the room, the warm smell of a cigar sweeping your senses. With a curled smile you ran your hands around your boyfriends back from behind and gave him a hug, your arms loosely around him.

“Take a break, puddin.” You sighed. 

The joker was on the phone, whispering the cruelest threats that we’re sure to make your skin crawl. But not you, you had been used to this kind of behavior. It’s what you lived with. You waited patiently, running your hands down the jokers arm as he finally hung up the phone. A wide grin plastered your face as you moved from him to the other corner of a room, with a turn of a switch and a light drop, Your record player was playing some music for the two of you. As the music poured around you, you crept back to your love, whispering softly in his ear. 

“Dance with me." 

"Harley..” He sighed, starring at the work ahead of him. 

 "Dance with me.“ You pestered on, taking a chance as your hands swiped almost every item on his desk onto the floor beside you. "Oops.” You flashed a grin. 

The joker stood. There was no tell if he was upset or intrigued. His arms quickly snaked around you and spun you, your back pressed against his chest, he held you for a minute, swaying. You and the joker were twisted people but after being apart for so long and you thinking he was dead, you were just being grateful to have each other back again but, if anyone were to know how sentimental you two were being, they would be dead in a second. 

“Are you ready to get back in business, sugar?” He asked. 

“Slow down, it’s a science, he’s been waiting to bring you down.”

 -

 "Not yet. Id like to take a bit off.“ You grinned, just being happy to be held again by the man you loved. 

Suddenly, you were spun around and your back was slammed on the desk. With wide eyes you peered up at his devilishly ones. 

"I don’t have time for kiddy games. You either do this with me, now. Or I’ll send your black and red bimbo ass back in that cell where your belong.”

 You gulped hard, this was it, back to his games. He was always the one who’d play games. 

“Yes, Mr.J.” You nodded. He lips suddenly mashed with yours, rough as he was. His hand snaked up and held your head still before pulling away. 

“That’s my girl.” He grinned before starting away, letting out a wave of laughter. - 

“Snake eyes with a sly smile, He can hold you and snake you child.”

 - 

The clouds filled the city below you, rain was pouring down on every building and car below it. Every light was still on in the city even if it was two in the morning, the city never sleeps. Your mind drifted to the times with your new friends, or whatever you’d call them. You weren’t sure if friends was a correct statement. You sighed, feeling a bit bad as the fact that they had to sleep again in their cold cells for who knows how many more nights while you had…all of this. In an instant, your thoughts were swept away as a hand grasped your throat from behind, your air supply suddenly being decreased. 

 "What’s that? You miss your buddies? You wanna go back with them and play? You don’t want to be with me, the one who you truly belong with. Well guess what sugar-“ the joker leaned into your ear as you fought for air , "we’re made for each other.”

 You gasped in response, Your mind flashed with scenes just like this one, all with the same man. 

 "I just don’t get it. I’m so good to you. I saved you. Gave your worthless life a purpose. And you act like a caged animal, you look at me like I’m the monster. Well you know what? The real monsters are locked in their cells, exactly where you should be.“ 

The joker grabbed you by the hair and suddenly slammed your head down on the brick windowsill in front of you, your vision became blurry as this act was repeated until everything suddenly became dark.

 - 

"leopards laze each on plush pillows. Slender capes of red and Chrome. Paperback dreams in their deep doze, Twitch their toes to the Black mambo.”

 - 

Your head pounded as your awoke, unlike the warm greeting yesterday night had brought. Although, you woke in the same bed as yesterday. Surrounded by plush pillows and light seeping in through the windows. You groaned at the headache rising in your head and bile in your throat. You turned on your side to peer out the window but something else caught your attention. A glass of water on your bed, like the night before, followed by two horse pills, that should help. But, that’s not what had caught your attention. Across the room lays a desk of makeup as colorful as a rainbow, a mirror surrounded by lights was propped up on it. You squinted your eyes to read the drawing in something that looked familiar, The red writing was dripping down the mirror to the desk and it simply wrote, “Harley Loves Mr.J.”

Maybe skype can be our always

Dan lives in the US, Phil the UK. They met online through tumblr and now mean the more to each other than anyone else in their lives.

Phil has just moved house and started 6th form. They both have piercings and possible tattoos and are aged 17.

 *

Just kinda popped into my head so I wrote it.

Sort of inspired by Phil’s new video

Words: around 630

Tags:  high school, (any tags for tattoos and/or piercings), au, American!Dan, teenagers, comfort

 ~jay

 ***

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Bofur stress-carving tiny animal figurines when Nori is gone for long periods of time. One time he made a whole menagerie before Nori stumbled through the door, utterly filthy but alive.

OH NO THAT’S ADORABLE

(Afterwards he gives almost all of them to his nieces and nephews and shoots Bombur a “don’t ask” look when it seems like he’s gonna comment.  The next morning Nori finds a tiny fox in his jacket pocket.  Its ears look an awful lot like his hair.)

I got 300 followers!!!!!!!!!! So, I promised I'd show my face for the first time on tumblr...

Okay so I really didn’t feel like posting those “follower forever” things or just a random selfie of my face and just saying thank you. Instead, I took multiple selfies and DRESSED UP AS my favourite fandoms!!

Doctor who (I’m wearing a fez, tardis earings, a bowtie, a weeping angel bracelet, holding a mini-sonic screwdriver, a doctor who tea mug, and wearing a tardis dress and a trench coat that looks like David Tennant’s.)

Sherlock (I didn’t have a cool looking hat or violin and stuff so all I really had for this was a beanie that matched the pattern of the coat I put on, and a little black dress that reminded me of Irene Adler. Also I couldn’t do the “sherlock look” where he thinks and does that thing with his hands cause then I just looked like a weird child who’s satanically praying. idk)

Supernatural (I’m not fully in this fandom BUT, I had on black bat wings, a trench coat, holding a fake knife, wearing plaid and dark blue jeans, also holding a pie with really bad lighting in my dining room)

Disney! (I’m wearing a Monsters Inc. hat, a lion king shirt, tinkerbell tights and skirt, while holding a buzz lightyear action figure and a little snow white doll. This was literally my childhood.)

Multi-fandom thing (I have on a spiderman mask that I’ve had since I was 7..that’s too small and represents superheroes/marvel, a totoro-spirit stuffed animal plushie on my shoulder for studio gibli, a mega man t-shirt on for the super smash bros fandom, and I’m holding a Romania pin for hetalia)

AND NOW ONTO MY MAIN FANDOM… YOUTUBE!!!!!!!!! <3

Troyler (alright so I don’t know everything about the troyler fandom but I tried. I have on [fake] glasses for Tyler Oakley, a hipster-ish shirt…..no..yes?, a flower crown, I’m holding my laptop and humus… Heheheh, hummus.

PHAN (I’ve got the wonderful hobbit hair, the cat whiskers, earings that look a bit like Dan’s, my fringe like how Phil usually has his, a drama-llama shirt, a stuffed animal lion that looks just like Phil’s [his name is Phillip], a bag of maltesers, black skinny jeans, and a blue belt on that fetus Phil wore often) 

Okay, know that you have all seen me dress up and stuff, I think its time I showed you how I usually look all the time….

yep. I’m on tumblr. *sighs* I have too much time on my hands. Also sorry about the terrible lighting I took all of these at 2am.

Oh, and one more thing! PEOPLE KEEP SAYING THAT I LOOK LIKE THE LOVECHILD OF DAN AND PHIL. HERE’S A COMPARISON

IDK I DON’T GET IT. 

But in all srsnss, thanks so for much 300 followers I love you all and who knows what I’ll do for 400 and up! <3 <3 <3 :D