chain stays

A Tale of One Hoax - Page 10

Wild UPDATE appeared! Demona used UPLOAD! It’s super effective!

No, but seriously, I apologize for the long wait. Let’s hope this motivation I have now stays longer :D

Cover | Page 9 | Page 11

Make me do your work everyday and cause cats to get sick? I'll catch you in your lies and get you fired.

This woman who I’ll call Tootles worked with me at an animal shelter as cat caretakers. We work opposite days and the first thing that she did to piss me off was telling me she had cleaned under furniture/restocked/refilled cleaning bottles. She sneakily just made it clean enough that you couldn’t tell she was barely doing anything all day. It would take me at least 30 min to an hour everyday to clean all the stuff that she hadn’t done the day before, and I had to do that in addition to my already extremely busy job. So some days I’d have to stay late, and I have two jobs so I’m always exhausted, and then I have a 45 min drive home where I’m blasting music and chain smoking just to stay awake.

I tried to tell my boss about this but she said that I need to have a better attitude, and that I was complaining too much about Tootles. She only told me this bc she’s a jerk most of the time and she didn’t want to deal with all the hassle of finding a new employee in a rural area.

Basically, when you have 20 cats housed in multiple rooms, it becomes a breeding ground for disease and infections. The point of cleaning every single surface and under the furniture with chemicals is to kill these germs and what not. After I started working there she got lazier and never did a single thing that she thought wouldn’t be noticed since my boss had no problem with what she was doing to me.

Because she wasn’t cleaning according to procedure, we now have almost every single cat (except the older ones with strong immune systems) come down with an upper respiratory tract infection. We have to now take those sick cats and quarantine them. For each cat, we have to now put on a gown, booties, gloves, and a mask if we are even going to touch them. These are all single use, extremely wasteful, and very expensive, but required by law. We also have to give them meds two or more times a day for the uri. This takes even more time(3x the amount of time I’d need to take care of a healthy cat. I knew immediately that the outbreak was her fault for not cleaning and the boss was very angry at the whole situation, wondering why this is happening. So before I leave I take tiny cat toys and hide them under every single thing shes supposed to clean under. I then make tiny marks with sharpie on all the kennels she has to scrub( we use a chemical that would dissolve the sharpie, and then rinse out and dry the cage so the cats paws aren’t affected.) I also put tiny marks on the bleach bottles showing how much was in them so I’ll also have proof she’s not cleaning the toilets. I come to work the day after hers and surprise surprise the same amount of bleach, sharpie marks still on kennels, all the toys still where I left them. So I tell my boss what I’ve done, I was nervous she would say I was kinda psycho but she said I should have done this sooner and yelled at me a bit(I told you this was happening already.). We sign a log required by law and we have to initial that we completed every single thing so boss just calls her up, asks if she’s actually done these things, which if she just admitted to being lazy she could have just been yelled at and kept her job. She lies and says she always follows procedures so boom she’s fired for lying about doing her work. It’s been like 3 months, she’s still out of a job I think, and the outbreak of disease amongst the cat has completely cleared up. She apparently really loved her job based on her fb so idk why she’d be so lazy and cause the cats suffering like that.

this was supposed to be part of the pjo/hoo “draw your fav character in what youre wearing rn” chain (which is why franks shirt is so short on him lmfao) but then it became a “my girlfriend got me into homestuck and now i cant escape” picture so 

Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 3

“And this happened, how?”

Claire probed gently into the child’s scalp, retreating when his shoulders hunched in pain. The boy glanced up at her, smiling sheepishly. Fergus - as his chart read – reached out for his mother’s hand, who held it tightly with worry since walking into A&E.

“I was playing with my friends, in the backyard of Louis’s house. There were some rocks there and we took turns to see who could throw one the furthest, you know?” His legs started swinging back on forth, as he recounted his tale.

“Yes, I know,” Claire rolled her eyes, but smiled gently. “Continue.”

“And Louis took this giant rock and heaved it at the chain-link fence that separates his yard from the neighbors’ and the rock bounced back and hit me in the head. It hurt a lot, but I was alright, but then my friends started yelling something awful, and I felt a tickle on my face. It was my blood, a whole lot of it!” Fergus’s eyes grew wide in remembrance, and turned a little pale again. His mother squeezed his hand, shaking her head at the boys’ exploits.

“I see. Well, here’s the doctor now!” Claire swept aside as Dr. Abernathy joined them in the small room. “He’ll have you set to rights in no time.”

Claire assisted Dr. Abernathy as he anesthetized the area, and began suturing the torn scalp. Fergus cried out but once, and then pursed his lips bravely, while his mother turned away from the needle. In about twenty minutes, the doctor was done, and was busy giving the boy’s mother instructions on how to care for the wound and reassuring Fergus he would have a small “wicked scar” to show off to his friends.

Claire smiled and waved goodbye at the retreating patient. She began the final touches on the necessary paperwork before filing away the information at the nurses’ station. Her head bent over the documents, a shadow was suddenly cast over the paper.


She froze.

It had been four weeks since she’d last heard that voice. She wouldn’t pretend now that she hadn’t thought about it, or even missed it sometimes, but it was still unexpected. Fighting to get her features into control before they became transparent on her glass face, she took a deep breath and raised her head to look at him.

Frank’s face was the same, handsome and refined, with deep lines etched into the corners of his mouth. At times amused, others worried or even angry, today the lines told a story of contrition. Claire didn’t feel like reading it.

She set her lips into a straight line, and stared at Frank. She refused to be the one to speak first, and damned if she thought it was good to see him again, the lying cheating bastard.

“You lying, cheating bastard.” So much for self control.

“Claire, please…” Frank’s hands – so polished, so genteel – reached out to her, pleading, but not quite touching. “Listen, I have—“

“Nothing to say, and nothing I want to hear. I want you to leave.” Claire pushed her chair back, tossing the pen onto the papers and striding out of the nurses’ station, Frank right behind her.

“I know what I did was stupid, and unfair, and you did not deserve to find out like that, Claire, I’m sorry!” Once outside the A&E doors, he grasped her shoulder to stop her.

Claire whirled and shoved him back, catching him unawares. “No, I did not deserve that at all, you wanker!” She pushed her hair out of her face, and let her rage fly. “Four years, you sodding bastard! Four years of my life that I will never get back!” She walked back, tears streaming uncontrollably; after her trip to Scotland, back in London she had refused all contact with Frank, pushing him out of her thoughts and out of her life. He had made attempts, but she had changed her number and slept often at the hospital through endless shifts. Avoiding, resisting, trying to heal. “Go away!”

“Claire, I mean to explain and I want you to listen. Let’s go.” Frank came at her, intending to take her by the arm and drag her away somewhere they could talk without witnesses to his disgrace. His hand, poised to grab her, was slapped away by a figure looming behind Claire.

“I believe the lady asked ye to go.” That soft, burred cadence. Claire turned to find Jamie Fraser himself standing behind her, his eyes a steely blue. His gaze was trained on Frank, who retreated minutely in the face of this new threat.

“I don’t think this is any of your business. Leave us alone to talk, will you?” Frank’s bravado lasted all of ten seconds until Jamie stepped out from behind Claire and asserted his height and breadth of shoulder. In his black leather jacket and unkempt red hair he looked positively dangerous.

She had no words for what was unfolding before her, confused at seeing Jamie in London at her place of work, and watching him defend her from Frank’s unwelcome advances. Her heart surged with adrenaline; whether her fight response or Jamie’s presence was responsible, she didn’t know.

“Frank, please, just go. There’s nothing else to say,” Claire said. Jamie remained still as a statue in front of her, shielding her from Frank. Frank tried to peer around the tall Scot’s figure, but Jamie wouldn’t let him make eye contact.

“Ye heard her. Go now, before I make ye.” Jamie turned to Claire, and gestured towards the hospital doors. “Inside, mo nighean donn,  and call security if ye must.” The time elapsed had felt like hours to her, but only a few minutes had actually passed. Crossing the A&E doors, Dr. Abernathy met her and caught her by the elbows as Claire trembled slightly.

“Claire? What is it? Do you need help?” The good doctor glanced outside and watched the confrontation. “Who’s that?”

“Frank,” Claire managed. “He showed up, wanted to speak with me. I said no. He followed me outside, and then—well, Jamie was there.”

“I take it Jamie is the redhead. Here, Lady Jane.” Dr. Abernathy, calling Claire by his nickname for her, led her to an empty chair in the waiting room. Outside, Jamie called out to Frank using what sounded like a few choice curse words in Gaelic as Claire’s former partner disappeared around the corner, the back of his neck flushed red in anger.

Claire breathed a sigh of relief. Jamie walked through the automatic doors, and his eyes immediately went to Dr. Abernathy holding Claire’s hand in support. They tightened momentarily before his face broke out in a gentle smile.

“Hi, I’m Jamie, a friend of Claire’s.” He held out a large hand, forcing the doctor to relinquish his hold on her.

“I’m Joe Abernathy, a colleague of Claire’s. Thank you for your help, man. Lady Jane here was having a pretty rough time of it.” He shook Jamie’s hand fiercely in gratitude, and palmed his shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. LJ, take your break now, why don’t you.” Behind Jamie’s unsuspecting back, Dr. Abernathy winked and strolled off.

Claire flushed, cursing her glass face once again. She’d be lying (but only to herself) if she hadn’t thought about Jamie every once in a while for the past few weeks. A little. She glanced up at Jamie, who took a seat beside her on the uncomfortable chairs.

He broke the silence first. “Lady Jane?”

She took a deep breath and managed a smile. “Just a nickname Joe has for me. He’s American, and found my English accent hilarious when he first arrived.”

“And the other one? The rude one?” Jamie frowned.

“Thank you so much Jamie. That was… unexpected. Frank shouldn’t have been here,” said Claire, shuddering briefly.

“Frank. Was he yer bad romantic experience?”

“You remember that?” Claire asked in surprise.

“I remember many things about ye. Mostly, how I forgot to ask for yer number last time we met,” Jamie grinned. “Ye didn’t offer either, so…”

“So how come you’re here?” Claire blurted out before she could stop herself. Jamie brushed his hand against the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Weel—seeing as I had no way of contacting ye or even yer surname to go by, I asked Rupert. He was verra much enamored of yer friend Geillis, and he asked her about ye. For me, ye ken.”

“You’re in London. I thought you were on tour.”

“We’ve done with the tour. I wanted talk to ye. See ye, mebbe. Ask ye to join me for dinner, perhaps.”

Claire felt the telltale flush creeping up her neck once more. She looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap. She didn’t know what to say to this man. This unexpected savior who had come all the way from God knew where. To see her. Just her.

“I… don’t know. I don’t know what to say.” Claire felt the uncontrollable urge to laugh or cry. And she didn’t know if she wanted to hug or strangle Geillis.

“Claire. I dinna mean to push ye now.” Jamie leaned in. “It doesna have to be dinner. I’ll take whatever ye can give me. Coffee, if ye like. A cup of water from the cooler would do as well.”

“But why?” She met his eyes this time; she let him have a glimpse of the turmoil inside, the furious pain and anger of betrayal that still raged within. The feeling that would not let her open up quite yet. Perhaps ever.

“Why? You’re bonny, have eyes like whiskey and a strength about ye—“

“Strength?” Claire’s voice shook slightly. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do. I understand yer wounds are raw and smartin’ and I respect that. I just want to get to know ye a bit better, as a friend. I’ll not ask for more than ye want to give. Is that alright?”

“Coffee.” Coffee with a friend was alright. No danger there. They had already had coffee before.

Jamie’s smile was blinding. “Coffee is fine. When?”

“Tomorrow? 6 o’clock.” Before she could change her mind, she stood. “I must get back to my shift.”

“I’ll be here. Til 6 then.” He unfolded himself gracefully from the chair and strode to the doors.

“Oh, and Jamie?” He turned.

“It’s Beauchamp. Claire Beauchamp.”

A dumb thing that I think about a lot.

Link is the prince of Hyrule and one day he receives a gift from bandits, a beautiful, exotic gerudo woman named Malon.

Don’t worry, Link imprisons the bandits

Did you wish that was you? // Shawn Mendes

Overview: Y/n has been in love with her best friend Shawn, she finally gets the courage to tell him but instead she finds him kissing another girl. He tracks her down and their feelings are revealed. 

Authors note: okay so this is not a request but I got some inspo last night and I really just wanted to write something 

“If you don’t say anything, Shawn’s never going to realise how his best friend is so in love with him,” Shay tells me, curling the last strand of her hair before flicking it over her shoulder. Her eyes meet mine in the bathroom mirror.

“There’s no point. We have a great thing going and if I told him how I really felt- it would just ruin our whole friendship.” I scowl, annoyed at my lack of faith in myself to just tell Shawn how I feel.

“Y/n. I swear you may be book smart but you are not boy smart.” She giggles and I look at her questionably. 

“Excuse you, but I have a lot of knowledge on boys-”

“Oh honey,” Shay coos, patting my hand that was resting on the bench. “You both are actually so cute.” 

“What do you mean?” I start to pack up the make up brushes that Shay had been using.

“You’re into him. He’s definitely into you. You’re both too scared to tell each other how you feel. It pains me to watch the both of you together.” 

“He’s not into me.” I don’t look at her but I feel her turn to look at me. 

“Alright, listen. Tonight at the party. Shawn is going to be there and so are you. You’re going to go right up to him and tell him how you feel.” She holds my shoulders in a tight grip, forcing me to meet her eyes. “He leaves for tour day after next so if things really fuck up you won’t have to see him- deal?”

I nod hesitantly, stomach flipping at the prospect of what I was about to do.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

do you think there was some major beef/internal conflict in 1d (Niall, Louis, & Liam V.S. Harry)?? because I really get the impression that Harry was very separate from the other members of the band, always kind of off doing his own thing while the other boys seemed to be a band of their own... am I crazy or do you sort of see this divide as well??

Hi anon!

OK, so I truly never thought it was OT3/4 vs Harry, I really didn’t. I thought it was all tabloid fodder, made up by Dan and Simon, etc. And I would like to preface this whole post with “this is all image, we don’t really know what’s going on behind the scenes, this could be part of their solo pushes,” and so on and so forth.

But having said all of that, yeah, I’m starting to think that view has some truth behind it.

Keeping in mind that Liam tended to act as the spokesman for the band, and he’s doing active promo for the first time, let’s look at him…

There was this sort of weird tweet. I remember at the time, the fandom was like “that’s kind of weird.” But whatever, who knows who wrote the tweet, and he did say he’s proud of Harry.

But then we come to hear it was Harry who wanted the hiatus first (per Harry’s Rolling Stone article) and Liam says that Niall had the hardest time with it, and that Liam didn’t even know what a hiatus was (which sounds like bullshit, but that’s the story he’s pushing), and that’s just…something to note. OK.

Then we get the totally flat affect of Harry talking about Liam’s music on Grimmy’s show. And he said he didn’t know about Liam’s chains, which was weird.

We get the Harry Potter tweet about celebrity from Liam, and then Liam kept posting pictures of the chain all over the place, including with Niall.

Then we have Harry being rude to the fan who got Liam’s chevron tat, and claiming it had nothing to do with him (as if he wasn’t part of 1D?).

And the way that Liam talked about Harry and his music today was not positive, while he talked positively about Niall’s music and showed up at WangoTango and was photographed with him (and the chain).

Then we have the comments Liam made about how he wrote half the songs on MITAM (I think that was half of the songs that any of OT4 wrote for the album?) and how he wanted to tour it. Harry has been sold as being the one who “changed” 1D’s sound, but we know that Liam has done a ton of the writing. In fact, if you compare the writing credits, Liam wrote more songs for 1D (including on MITAM) and got production credit on things (often remixes).

Finally, we get these weird questions from Dan toward both Niall and Harry, where they both leave open the possibility of One Direction existing without Harry. And we have Liam including Zayn in his answers about what the band is doing for their solo music. And go bacik to the first link in the above paragraph, where he says, “It’s difficult to see how everyone’s gonna work out at the moment.”

Now, you asked about Louis, Liam, and Niall as a unit.

When I rewatch OTRA clips now, I wonder if the other men ever got annoyed with Harry being all over the stage and sort of taking over, especially while they were singing. A post crossed my dash today about stage Harry in OTRA and he was swinging around his hair, bounding across the stage, dancing with mics, etc–and in this clip, it wasn’t when he was singing. I’ve talked about how Harry’s stage presence on SNL was not what I expected, and in rewatching OTRA clips now, it’s clear often Harry was able to be stage!Harry because the other men were singing. I wonder how they felt about that? (I wonder. Truly wonder. I’m not making assumptions, I’m rethinking old assumptions.)

I think Niall will always try to be a neutral as possible. He’s like Switzerland. But even he left open the idea that 1D could come back without Harry. Which…?

I think there is clearly no love lost between Harry and Zayn, and I think that’s for real.

Louis seemed more in sync with the other men (Niall and Liam) in OTRA. We know Harry had his own stylist, etc. 

So. To answer your question, yeah, I see it. And I don’t know if it’s just for promo purposes or what. But I see it.


The three pages of notes between Eric Harris and Kristi Epling from German class. (JC-001-012993, JC-001-012995, and JC-001-012996.)  Kristi was so afraid to have these notes in her possession after the massacre that she sent them to a friend in St. Louis for safekeeping, but the friend went to the police with this “tip,” which is why it’s in the “Tips” section of the documents.

Note 1: 


Guten fuckin tag. [Good fuckin day.] Frau [the German teacher] sucks, but German rules! thanks for letting me copy allllll that stuff in Deutsch, Hist and chem. Kritzer sure is one Helluva spaz huh. well, our junior year is at an end, woop-de-flippin-do-da, we will be top of the food chain soon.  hey, stay away from those Frostys (redacted…), they might explode some day by no fault of mine! and you could get hurt. hey, your smart, do something cool when you grow up. Gott weiss ich will kein engel sein. [God knows I don’t want to be an angel, from the Rammstein song “Engel”.] oh well. ready for some philosophy? not yet? or… [redacted] and [redacted] need to burn, those pricks will get what’s coming soon.  thanks for listening to my problems and shit, bla bla–other nice thoughts–yadda wadda so so so…ok, time for philosophy: Nihilism, Anarchism, and several others are all wrapped up into 1 ball called my head.  society wants to get rid of any human instincts we may have, like Kritzer said a few times, the industrial age and factories and shit, all to better the community and lessen the human part of life, “sit in order, be respectful, don’t talk out loud, drive safely, don’t run, don’t lie, bla bla don’t don’t” why the FUCK not!!! we are humans, we should use our brains for something besides memorizing cube roots. the things that put us above animals is our brains, and society wants to flatten it out. they don’t want thinkers and dreamers, only thinkers and dreamers who think and dream about how to be successful and be a good citizen. Anyone who shows more thoughts or emotion than the norm is said to be wierd or crazy, wrong! they are just more in touch w/their humanity, and people who think they can sum up mankind in simple lame quotes piss me off. like “there are 2 kinds of people…the quick and the dead…the smart and the dumb…leaders and followers…” well you fucks are wrong!! The only 2 kinds of people are male and Female!!!!! the rest is B.S. follow your instincts, be free from all, listen to no one, be SELF AWARE!! step back and look at what you are doing, do you look stupid? smart? silly? foolish? that’s why I acted like I did at After prom, have you ever watched, actually watched someone dance? it is ridicu.o…lus. people are funny, they want to be accepted. don’t be afraid to judge people either. people say you shouldn’t judge others because that’s not how they are on the inside…well oh fucking well and to flippin bad, your impression of someone is what they seem like, and if they are to caught up and stupid to have their true self most obvious, then that’s their choice. if they look like a lame gothic black devil wannabe then damnit that’s what they want you to think and boom, verdict made. well, how was that for a trip through the mind of a wise one? I hope you liked it, if you didn’t I don’t care anyway!! Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha  

[cut off] sehen du spater [see you later]


(Mr. Kritzer was Eric’s teacher for world history in the second semester of junior year and philosophy in the second semester of senior year.)

On the side:

Dieses ist Kostenzahler-kultur von der unterirdischen…eternal Umdrehung die dieses unser stichhaltiges…KMFDM ist, das besser als das beste…megalomaniacal ist und stark als der Rest. –Sascha K.–  KMFDM

[This is counterculture of the underground…eternal revolution, this is our sound…KMFDM is better than the best…megalomaniacal and harder than the rest.]

(Note: this is from the KMFDM song “Megalomaniacal”)

Note 2:

Kristi: did I make your hit list yet?

Eric: nope, yer on my “Semper Fi” list. but [redacted] still is in the top 5, along with this asshole named [redacted] or [redacted] or something.

(arrow to “Semper Fi”) Semper Fidelis


always faithful. motto of the USMC

Kristi: that’s fine, he knows that. he wants off, or rather, he doesn’t want to die anytime soon

Eric: He will always be under the gun and in the sights since he hit me in the face, even though it didn’t hurt at all.  Until I get to hit him back I will always be pissed at him. and his dickhead friend too, If they want “off” then tell them to show some fuckin respect to their elders (me and dylan) and never make another smart ass remark about us or to us.

Kristi (arrow from redacted): who is this guy?

Eric: Just some faggot punk ska skater shitface who always makes fun of my kleid (German for “clothes, dress”) so I told him to shut the fuck up about it, and he is such a disrespectful smart ass and today he comes up and says “what’s up” in his little smart ass tone so I yelled at him

Note 3:

Kristi: if you’re going to be pissed @ me for being w/[redacted], then that is your thing, but I think that it’s stupid. I’m still the same person, I didn’t change just b/c I’m w/him, but you are going to do what you will.

Eric: exactly. but I didn’t think you would go out w/someone like him. but oh fuckin well es ist mir scheiss egal. [it’s all shit to me/I don’t give a shit.] does he still want me to be nice to him?

Kristi: I’m sorry I let you down, but I’m happy w/him (for now), he never wanted you to be nice to him, he just didn’t want you to kill him (he’s definitely scared of you.)

Eric: well, if he will let me punch him in the face and not tell a single authoritive figure (not get me in trouble) then I will be happy. I’ll even fuckin say “Hi” to him when he’s w/you. he’ll get down to around “#90” on my “shitlist” which is basically neutral. his friend is another story though.

Kristi: I’ll tell him, but I don’t know –[redacted] is a dork, I don’t give a shit about him, so you can do what you wish to him.

Eric: oh we will. I don’t expect [redacted] to let me do that either, so until he does not a damn thing will change

Kristi (arrow to “oh we will”): You and Dylan?

Eric: yeah.

Kristi: that’s cool, I’d probably the same way if it was me

Eric: I just don’t want the little fuck going to admin or the cops and start whining that we are threatening him or intimidating him. because if I get in ANY more trouble w/cops I will fucking lose it.


A random doodle!! I’m trying to get used to digital art again, because I didn’t make any for like three weeks haha

Honestly I totally get the appeal of a lifelong romantic relationship. But like, I’d rather get that by having a relationship that’s so consistently good we never decide to end it, than by having one that’s so good at one time that we decide, in that moment, to never end it.

Does that make sense? One’s saying “yes” to something every day, the other’s saying “yes, every day” to something.

Making it hard to leave takes away a lot of uncertainty. But what if making it hard to leave devalues the staying?

I want anyone I date to know with total certainty that if they wanted to leave tomorrow, they could do it and it wouldn’t be the end of the world, it wouldn’t unleash demons. I don’t want anyone to feel chained to me.

It’s being not-chained that makes staying mean something. I want to make it easy to leave so I know we’re in this because we’re choosing to be, actively. And more than an eternal relationship? I want one where we’re in it 100%.

If we’re both/all completely on board because we keep choosing to be… that’s the kind of relationship I’d be happy to keep doing forever, if it keeps working that long. And if it doesn’t? The goal was to make it a good one, not a permanent one. 

Love Triumphs Part 28: Rash Decisions

Jared Padalecki x Reader

1400 Words

Story Summary: AU (I love Gen, and love her with Jared.) Jared and Gen have split up, but are still friendly. You, the Reader have recently started acting on Supernatural, and have fallen in love with Jared. Both of you get hate due to the fact that you are much younger than he is.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

As you lay there, you wondered if your heart was even beating. Or if it was so broken from Jared’s hurtful words that it had stopped working.

Jensen had done nothing to calm you down. Sure, he had offered you his house to stay at, but you didn’t want to get in between the two men. In fact, you knew that wouldn’t happen. They had been the closest friends before you arrived, and they would be that way when you left. But that still didn’t mean you should stay at Jensen’s house and cause them problems.

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The forces of Light have never looked better.

On Sith Heresy

It goes without saying that there is not and never has been any unified LS Force-use movement within the Empire. Ever since the earliest days of the Jen'jidai, the Sith philosophy and identity has been built on DS Force use - on the rejection of Jedi philosophies, of embracing the Dark Side of the Force and the celebrating of one’s passions above all things. Passion, the Sith Code would have it, is the key to freedom - and it is freedom that Sith value most of all. The nature of that freedom, of course, is different to freedom as it is valued in the Republic. To the Sith, freedom is the freedom to act without consequence - to impose ones will on the world, if not the galaxy, and to best and conquer even death itself.

Heretical Sith philosophies are not all Light-aligned or inclined, though compared to the Sith orthodoxy, many are. Strictly speaking, they tend to be LS-leaning, rather than what a non-Sith observer would class as LS. For the Jedi, LS Force use is associated, per the first line of their Code, not with emotion but with peace. The Force, as the Jedi approach it, is an ally to be worked with on its own terms rather than a beast to be tamed, and this is a view that is rarely found even among Sith heretics.

Heretical Sith practices are, ultimately, still Sith practices, and tend to still teach the harnessing of the Force through one’s emotions. Where the traditional Sith orthodoxy focuses on the use of anger and hatred (and, frequently, fear - with the caveat that it is rare that any given Sith will cop to using their own fear), heretical practices will teach the use of other emotions. Love is the most obvious one - whether it is love for one’s family, love for a spouse, love for the Empire, etc. Others include one’s sense of duty towards the Empire, an abstract and rarely documented heresy that is tolerated for obvious reasons, or hyalasha, a Sith word referring to the thrill of mortal combat and the desire to win at all costs, drawn on frequently by Sith marauders and berserkers and, so long as their targets benefit the Empire, thus tolerated. While these responses and their prizing above others falls outside of the orthodoxy, the Inquisition is frequently willing to overlook them - provided that the Sith in question still serve the Emperor’s will, and that they are not attempting to corrupt the orthodoxy as a whole.

(It should be noted that the emotion of hyalasha is not related to anger, but is about the thrill of and enjoyment of the fight - battle for battle’s sake. Sith are nothing if not thrillseekers.)

It is important to note that love and passion are not interchangeable, either in the standard Sith orthodoxy, or in heretical practices. Passion, according to the Sith orthodoxy, empowers and inspires - is a form of motivation and power. Love, by contrast, blinds and chains - stays the hand in mercy, creates weaknesses for others to exploit, and ties one to loyalties that would otherwise have long run their course. On the flip side of that, Sith heresies will argue that passion is impulsive  and unsustainable; love, by contrast, requires a solid foundation, no matter what form that love takes. Of course, this is only an example of such an argument - no formal heretical positions exist, as to adopt one would be to signal the Inquisition that one formally opposes the Sith orthodoxy, and thus opposes the Order as a whole.

It is vanishingly rare that a Sith heretic will draw on the Force as Jedi do - not by channelling their emotions to tap into the power of the Force, but instead by attempting the kind of clarity and mindfulness that the Jedi practice in order to attune to it. Such a practice runs counter to everything taught in both Sith and Imperial culture, and is an utter anathema to any Overseer. It is even more rare that such a Sith will survive long enough to teach another Force-sensitive their practice - to draw on the Force in the manner that Jedi do would not go unnoticed or unpunished in the Empire, as to embrace the path of their mortal enemies is, in Sith eyes, to become the enemy itself. Even Light-inclined heretics and practitioners are still Sith - while heresy is a crime punishable by death, it does not, in the Sith penal system, incur an automatic charge of treason.

It is equally extremely rare, of course, that any given Sith lives up entirely to the teachings of the Sith orthodoxy. All Sith have parents, and most have siblings - and, outside of the noble lines, it is rare that marriage happens purely for political purposes. Even where a marriage is arranged, it is rare that the couple will forge no feelings whatsoever - to say nothing of a parent’s natural affection for their children. Such relationships are frequently strained and complicated by the contradictory demands of the Sith orthodoxy, but the Sith are nothing if not a complicated people.

It should also be noted, of course, that love itself is not a heresy - forbidding love would be an exercise in fruitlessness, not least because it is one of the natural evolutions of certain kinds of passion, and can be used to fuel those passions in turn. Sith art throughout the ages has been dominated by passionate love stories, from the fairytale to the tragically doomed and everything between; many of the greatest Sith to ever live cited a love as one of their driving passions. It is true that the Sith orthodoxy discourages love between adherents, as - as an emotion and motivation - it is said to dull ambition and blind one to both the weaknesses and ambitions of one’s partner, as well as one’s own weaknesses. However, the Sith do not forbid love in the way that the Jedi are said to do, and indeed have used this very fact to tempt many a wavering Jedi.

Of course, these are just examples - there are as many heretical Sith philosophies as there are heretical Sith. In part this is due to the individualistic nature of the Sith, but also because - as mentioned - there has never been any unified heretical philosophical movement in the Empire. While low-level heresies are tolerated by the Inquisition, particularly in the time since the Reclamation, the more organised and more noticeable heretical Sith become, the harder the Inquisition are to crack down on them.

It is difficult to explain, in Republic terms, just how much of an affront to the Sith that challenging the orthodoxy is. It forms a vital cornerstone of Sith cultural identity, and the Inquisition, as the defenders of Sith culture, take their jobs incredibly seriously. It may seem odd to an outsider to the Empire, for a people who value freedom so much to place a value on being so strictly bound by sometimes vague and indeterminate rules. As noted earlier, however, freedom in the manner it is valued by Sith is not the same as it is celebrated in the Republic - a misunderstanding that is at the root of many a diplomatic failure.

(Part 2)

Yo i hope Y'all realize I'm pretty much joking with everyone up here and am never actually mad at anyone on Tumblr, and I ain't really that mean. My bad. I think some people may be taking me too seriously lately so i wanted to pull back and apologize to all of you just in case you didn't know I'm just fuckin around with you talking shit as an alter ego that is basically an exaggerated version of myself.

Whether or not you forgive me doesn’t mean shit to either of us anyway. I’m just letting you know that i am aware of your possible suffering and am merely eluding you to the fact that it is unnecessary. I will be the one you just met that broke you free of your chains, then stayed and to let them punish me so you can be free.

All in this world are warriors and they are my brothers and sisters. We’ll keep fighting to survive because that’s what we do.

And Imma fight beside you.

Ascend Peace Love Unity Respect

Raphael x Reader x Leonardo

Warning: torture, smut (mfm),

A thank you to all the blogger’s who let me pick there brains for there opinions.

Your body hung limply from the thick chains bolted the walls. Wall’s that were painted black to prevent any form of light from staying. Chains that weren’t meant for you.

A stray tear escaped. It was all you would allow. Otherwise, the thin wall separating this experience from you would break. Compartmentalization.

A shuddering inhales stabilizing your feeling’s. Your eye’s going dead while limbs screamed.

It had been days since you had last eaten. The randomized hunger pangs would spike overriding the pain everywhere else. Stomach gnawing at itself in rebellion.

Other time’s the pain in your shoulder’s overrode all else, between the muscle tears and strains it was agony each time you were jostled. Your mind straining to keep itself together.

The door opened the dreary yet caustic light spilling into your cell. Eyelids fluttering as your pupil’s adjusted.

“Are you prepared to speak with me now, darling?” The well-dressed man asked his lithe form lounging in the doorway. Nothing but his outline visible against the offensive light.

Head lolling to the side, a look of defiance your reply. Your hair so greasy it scarcely moved with the action.

*Raphael’s going to tear you apart.*

The slightest evidence of a smirk on your lips. The action enough to antagonize the short man in front of you. A whip roiling in his hands.

When it cracked your naked body flinched involuntarily. Your weight shifting accidently putting pressure on your ankle. You were still uncertain of the extent of the damage. A harsh, sharp breath against the pain.

“So breathtaking, my pet.” Staring him down through the pain permeating your body. This wasn’t your first interaction with the sadistic psycho. The act of defiance your only balm.

His hand cupping your breast with deceptive tenderness. Your eye’s looking forward at the wall. Mind going blank as you fought down the urge to vomit.

His lip curling. Eye’s going mad with rage.

“You don’t want to be petted by me?!?” He shrieked, arm shaking until his palm connected with your cheek. Your chapped lip splitting open, the blood spilling down your chin calming him.

“See what my precious made me do?” The glazed over calm concealing the crazy more frightening than the rage.

His shorter form stepping back. You felt the tear of skin before the mark appeared. Skin puckering an inch long incision forming before the blood slowly pooled at the surface.  The fucker was nuts, but he knew his way around a signal whip.

Your body had the evidence: slowly healing marks, various bruises, cut’s, and gashes marred your delicate skin. Each one a reminder.


Pride and Victory.

Right now, all there was, was the pain.

Before you knew it, your body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. The salt making your wounds sting. Your breath shuddering. The first evidence of your broken down will sliding down your nose.

The door opening yet again. Camera in the corner allowing all outside to view.

“Now. Shall we?” Vern walking forward in an Armani pinstripe suit. His eye’s an unnatural shade of their former blue.

All the while you wept, afraid that you had been forgotten. Left to a fate that would leave you begging for death.

“Tell me where the turtles went? I know you’ve been…fornicating with them.” He said with an air of distaste.

Face dropping as your tears increased.

Vern’s hand darting out to grab you.

Red lights flashing all over the compound. Vern rushing over to the wall to grab a collar and cuffs. While you weren’t the turtles, you were no slouch. Even in your weakened state, Vern wasn’t willing to take a risk.

The neck clamp closing silently around your neck. Spike’s gently pricking the skin. A necklace of red pearls your only garb.

A sob of relief when your arms were released from the shackles. Your hands clamped together with enough force to contain Leonardo’s strength.

The psychotic little prick taking the leather leash. Your mind slowly coming back together at the new surrounding. The sight of the city outside forcing a deep breath and a new line of pearls. Your ankle apparently only strained. A small blessing.

“Come now my precious pet we wouldn’t want to miss our exit.” Gunfire in the distance below forcing a quicker pace. A kindling of hope sparking to life in your chest.

“Find me.” You breathed out. A whispered spell with all the will you retained behind it.

Upon reaching the roof, fear began to tarnish and suffocate your hopes. Shoulder’s gently drooping.

Your walk purposefully slowing, exaggerating your ankle injury.

“Quickly!” Vern screamed back at you. His calm veneer cracking. His eye’s darting as a thin sheen of sweat broke out over his face. The collar of his suit tinged with the salty product.

Bodi forcing you to walk faster lest you lose your neck to the spikes.

“Y/N walk!” Vern yelled. The psycho looking behind him every moment. His eye’s darting to the mark’s marring your skin. When you reached the helicopter, you hesitated. Body freezing as panic riddled your blood.

*They have to make it!*  

“LEO! RAPHAEL!!!!” There names a blood-curdling scream. A final effort.

Vern jerking you upward, a spike puncturing an inch into your skin. An inhuman strength to Vern’s grip.

The helicopter ascending above the building at a rapid rate. The wind emanating from the blades violent.

The sight of 2 green figure’s bursting through to the roof, exhilarating. The door flying off its hinges and over the side.

“Fire!” Vern yelled at the pilots. The helicopter swinging around rapidly causing all inside to be thrown. The sadistic fucker losing his grip on the leash when he slammed head first into the wall. A crimson smear stark against the matte black walls.

Shot’s reigning down until a massive metal disk hit a blade from below. The helicopter landing haphazardly on the roof. Your body falling from the craft into a roll.

The building becoming a blur. Strong sedatives from the multiple needles, on the collar, permeating your body.  

The sound of steel clanging and heavy footsteps approaching…..

After your body had stopped rolling, Raph sprinted over to you. Raphael crying tears of shame and frustration.

He had promised to protect you. The glue that kept half his family together.  Arguments had become less threatening and hurtful. Raphael could manage his emotions better.  Leo was taking more time to explore his feelings. You were their perfect balance. Now…..

Bruises and chafing covered your wrists, some area’s rubbed raw. All the lacerations in various states of healing peppering your naked body. Finally, his eye’s landing on the metal collar, a blind rage taking over him. Raph’s whole burly body shaking.

His finger rending the offensive metal from your throat. Arm’s bulging while he tore it into pieces. The offending metal dropping in fragments to the gravel-covered roof.

Breathing ragged, reluctantly turning his gaze back to your prone form. The blood crusting around your neck heartbreaking. Crouching down he gently lifted you to his chest. Leo’s athletic form stalking over to where Raph stood.

Leo averting his gaze. His jaw clenched together at the sight of you, failure.

A slow and solemn procession as they made their way down to the truck.
Mikey waiting on the bottom floor.

“We did….it.” Michelangelo’s usual spritely grin falling away. Arm’s hanging limply at his side. His shorter frame falling into line with the procession.

Upon reaching the truck, Donnie’s eye’s were teary, his breath a rasping rattle in his chest. Donnie turning to the driver’s window, he started the vehicle. The back of his hand periodically wiping away his tears.


Your eye’s blinking open slowly, sleep falling away. The fan overhead creating a cool breeze. Memories of soft sand and cool breezes invading your mind. The sight of Raph’s handmade blanket’s over your naked body bringing a smile to your lips. Your finger’s trailing the knitted pattern of Leo’s Lion and Raphael’s Bull. Elbow’s slowly pushing you to a seated position.

“Y/N!” Leo exclaimed while Raphael rushed forward.

Raphael’s knees on the bed, while he gave you a blinding smile.  Leo’s palm stroking your hair. His breath slow and even in the face of overwhelming emotion.

“Home.” Tear’s streaming down the corner of your eye’s. “I’m Home.”  


Leo and Raphael catering to you for the next week. Bringing you food, administering sponge baths. Anything your heart might need or desire.

“Raphael I can walk to the bathroom. Donatello’s new mutagen serum worked wonder’s on my physical injuries.” Your hand cupping his cheek gently.The differing textures of scaley and soft something you adored.

“Yeah, but my princess ain’t walkin.” His tender yet stubborn side peeking through.

“Raphy.” You whispered, lips placing a warm and loving kiss to the bridge of his nose.

“Princess.” His eye’s tearing at a tenderness he feared he would never feel again. Arm’s tightening slightly at the fear.

The steam from the shower head already circulating throughout the room. Mist hiding the finer detail of yellow flowers and dark green turtles on the borders.

*Leos, so thoughtful when he wants to be.*

Raphael only placing your feet on the ground long enough to peel back your robe and his pants. His hulking figure carrying you under the hot stream of water. Rivets of water streaming down your back.  A smile breaking out as tender muscle’s relaxed.

Raph’s thick tongue sneaking out to lavish attention on your breast. His slowly warming plastron making you shiver. A small whimper escaping your lips at the sensation play between water and Raph.

Raphael’s mouth trailing over to your neglected breast. His hands cupping your ass,  thick nails scouring your skin.

“Raph take me. I need to be your’s again.” The look meeting his emerald eye’s desperate and needy.

Raphael rubbing himself against your folds in slow but firm strokes. His eye’s looking for any chance that you might need to wait.

Noticing his concerned glances, you leaned against his forehead.

“I love you, Raphael.” All the love you could muster pouring out. A delicate kiss to his snout the perfect punctuation.

His grip loosening while you slid down his thick girth. Each inch disappearing

Your head falling back while you rode his cock. A look of utter joy breaking over your features as you came close to climax.

Raph’s gaze falling on the closet that you had found for them. The towels were neatly stacked to the side, a crack in the doors. He smiled knowingly.

“I’ma  thinkin we have an audience.” Raphael’s voice grumbled. “Maybe we oughta give him a show?”

Raphael spanking you with an open handed smack. The water adding an extra sting.

Leo’s eye’s closing while he stroked his cock slowly. His fist twisting below the head, then a long stroke down over the thick vein running under his cock.
Firm hands keeping up the rhythm, his eye’s glued onto you. Lush breast bouncing while Raph’s massive girth slid inside you. His generous endowment making short work of your composure.

“Raph need to come.” At that comment, he placed you against the wall his hips thrusting short and deep.

“Raph there! Please? Fuuuuuck” Your walls quivering at the friction. Lips mulling together while you tried to keep your yelling to a minimum.

Nail’s digging into his beefy shoulder’s. Mouth limply hanging open in a strangled cry as eye’s squeezed tightly shut. Your walls clamping down on him in a rush of dopamine and oxytocin.    

“Yeh, that’s my girl.” Raph encouraged with a few more pump’s extending the life of your orgasm.

“Leo *breathe* closet.*breath*” You mumbled leaning against the cool bathroom wall.

“Leo get yer ass outta there.” Raphael grumbled his bicep bulging while he leaned over you.

The blue-eyed leader wandering out of the closet. His eye’s downcast toward his erection, his shame evident. Athletic build coming to stand at his full height just feet away.

Your hand motioning for him to join you both.

(E/C)  eye’s meeting his royal blue while he walked closer. Raphael’s lips working over your neck while his thumb rolled your clit roughly. Your whimper’s fueling Leonardo towards you.

Raph moving to pull you into his chest instinctively. His hands lifting you by your thigh’s in an upward arch. When Leo put his hands on your waist you grasped his finger’s.

Leo’s erection grinding against your ass. His teeth biting against your shoulder until he maneuvered you away from Raph.

The blue eyed leader opening with a searing kiss. Your toes curling while his tongue curled around yours. The appendage massaging its way around your mouth. Simultaneous stimulation from Raphael’s hand’s cupping your breast’s. His calloused palms working your buds into rubies.

Leo’s cock slipping into your slick cavern.  Each stroke fueling your orgasm. Hhs bulbous head sliding past your fold’s only to push back inside. Leo changing his angle to caress your secret garden. The final piece of resistance fallen to ruin.

A strangled scream leaving your lips. Leo not far behind, muscle’s contracting around you in a scaly yet smooth wall. Raphael’s plastron brushing your back while he easily kept Leo on his feet.

“Thank you for coming for me.“ Resting your forehead against Leo’s neck, you couldn’t help the tears.

Being in between your two alpha’s made you feel whole and safe. Even with the memories forever ingrained in your mind, there was hope.

Hope for new memories and experiences,  love and laughter, with the addition of the serum: children.

They would be your reason to recover. To forge ahead even when your strength was gone.

Passion, will, and cunning forever entwined.