denied appeal

it’s weird for me being so into a het ship. generally, if i have het ships at all, they are very secondary to The Gay™. but i dunno, man, bughead just speaks to me.

part of it is the fact that they’re ‘opposites attract’ done right. much of fandom hears ‘opposites attract’ and thinks ‘clearly this means that sworn enemies secretly want to fuck’ and… you know, i’m not denying the appeal, but generally speaking, when two people have tried to honest-to-god murder each other, i don’t see a healthy relationship blossoming between them (not without a lot of work, at least). betts and jugs are polar opposites in a lot of ways, even visually; Jughead, with his dark hair and dark clothes and dark outlook, and Betty, with her bright hair and bright dresses and bright personality. contrast! it’s about as subtle as a shotgun, but it’s effective. it works. they highlight each other.

but they’re also, you know, friends. that’s the other part. they’re opposites, but they also share common ground. they contrast, but they connect. it’s so normal, it seems almost weird. friends? who spend a lot of time together?? and share a common interest??? getting together romantically???? like i realize this seems like a radical concept but it’s actually not! i’m so used to people who have almost nothing in common being thrown together for the sake of a plot-mandated romance that it initially seems strange to me when a relationship arises organically between people who know each other, hang out together, and share interests and hobbies. it’s almost like in real life, people connect for more reasons than being hot. who knew?

betty and jughead are very different people from very different backgrounds, but they like each other, respect each other’s differences, and do what they can to help and look out for each other. like, it just seems nice to me. it seems like grounds for an actually healthy, respectful, nurturing relationship. which is far, far more unusual on TV than it should be, so it probably won’t last. but damn it, i intend to enjoy it while it does. so sorry to any of my followers that this bothers, but i’m onboard with this. i hope you can forgive me.

By Arrangement (TMNT 2012, Apritello)

Summary: The war between humans and mutants ends the minute the Kraang come calling. There’s just the matter of making the tenuous peace stick – and Donnie drew the short straw. 

Here’s hoping his blushing bride doesn’t murder him in his sleep. 

Rating: PG. 

Word Count: 8,700.

Notes: My best @hotmilkytea asked for a bunch of kiss prompts for April and Donnie, and somehow what happened was several thousand words of arranged marriage shenanigans. I have no idea how. But enjoy the tropeyness! :D

@donniedrinkscoffee, @cesarin, here you go! 

Read on: Ao3 | ff.net

**********

Donnie reminds himself to blink, and to breathe, and to smile – the gentle smile he practiced in his mirror for a solid month – when April appears in the doorway of the chapel.

She takes one look at him, and pulls a gun out of her wedding dress.

Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, he thinks, even though his heart plummets straight to his feet. At his side, Raph growls, and then Casey unsheathes a police baton along with his hockey stick.

Donnie keeps smiling because he doesn’t know what else to do with his face, but April isn’t aiming at him. She’s aiming right over his shoulder.

That’s when the gunshots start, and Donnie realizes that April – his brave, furious, beautiful, absolutely badass bride – isn’t shooting at him, but at the platoon of Kraang who just crashed through the back wall of the chapel.

***

Let’s back up a bit, shall we?

***

Once upon a time, there were humans, and there were mutants, and they had been at war for a very, very long time. No one remembers how the war got started – some say it started with two brothers, one human and one mutant, who fought over a woman, but frankly that story has been told too many times and wasn’t very interesting to begin with – but everyone knows about the fields that never stop burning, and the heads on spikes along the road.

It took almost a thousand years – years during which the air over Nebraska boiled, and Beijing nearly fell to an army of rats led by a masked king, and an actual alien invasion – but finally, the powers that be on both sides of the war said Enough.

Which was long overdue, to be honest, but at this rate, the world would be uninhabitable by the end of the century, and since staying alive was the one thing that both sides could agree on, the leaders agreed to a ceasefire.

Getting curb-stomped by pink screeching aliens has a wonderful way of putting things in perspective.

The world took a deep, shuddering breath, and wondered what would come next. Other than the Kraang invasion, that is.

An alliance, said the leaders. That’s what we need.

And how, said the world, which was tired and desperate and had almost forgotten how to hope, do you plan to do that?

uh, said the leaders. We’ll get back to you?

***

“You’re kidding me,” said Donnie. “A wedding? They do know this is actual, real life, and not fanfiction, right? We need – I don’t know, treaties, and to stop shooting each other, and –”

Leo shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like we have any other options, do we?”

Donnie tried not to choke on his own tongue. “We do,” he said, enunciating each word precisely. “Like treaties. And shooting the actual aliens, instead of each other.

“Yeah, because the other ceasefires worked so well,” said Raph, with a meaningful glance at the deep scar winding up Donnie’s thigh. “We’ll just go yell give peace a chance and put flowers in their assault rifles and boom! We got peace locked in! Up until the Kraang turn us into grape jelly.”

Donnie balled his hands into fists, both to keep from rubbing at the scar and in case he decided to pummel Raph in the face. “It’s an idiotic idea,” he said. “Marriage doesn’t solve anything when it’s just normal life. It’s not going to solve a war.”

Mikey leaned against his shoulder with a tired sigh. “Can we just like, enjoy the silence for five minutes?” he said. “I’m tired, dudes. When was the last time people weren’t tryin’ to kill us?”

“Never,” Donnie said in unison with Raph and Leo. He threw an arm around Mikey’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Mikey did have a point – they should take the chance to rest while they could, in case everything burned down around them tomorrow.

Splinter breathed quietly nearby, asleep or meditating, and slowly, Donnie’s brothers fell asleep too.

He stayed awake for a long time, wondering. Who were they going to rope into this disaster?

Probably not anyone I know, he thought, as sleep closed over his head.

***

Raph hadn’t stopped laughing in five minutes. Mikey was facedown on the floor, making strangled noises, and Leo was looking anywhere but at Donnie.

“No,” Donnie said again. He’d lost track of how many times he’d said it so far, but nothing else came to mind. “No.”

Splinter laid a warm, dry hand on his shoulder. “You have been honored, my son,” he said, his whiskers ever-so-slightly twitching. “Make us proud.”

Donnie thought about saying No again, and decided to hyperventilate instead.

Keep reading

STOP HATING IDOLS

  For a month, I’ve been reading and taking screenshots of instances in which somebody is hateful or disrespectful towards Hwasa from MAMAMOO. I also had mean posts towards and about Moonbyul which were sadly lost in the midst of me cleaning up my phone.

  I decided today was a good day to explore this issue and give my opinion on it. Here are some screenshots I was able to find/save from the mess I made hours ago:

  Unfortunately, none of the screenshots listed above were taken out of context and neither is the one listen down. The Hwasa hate withing the Momoos is not that obvious, but outside of it it’s sadly crystal clear.

  Hwasa has been categorized as “ugly” and also the “ugliest” in the group more times than I can count and it’s a shame I lost some of my screenshots that proved this. Sadly, this is a real issue not just to MAMAMOO’s maknae, but also to various other idols like Rapmonster from BTS (for example).

  Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but as soon as it’s made public that person has to be ready for some backlash as not everybody is going to agree with you. Sadly, I don’t agree with this and I can refute what you say and not just disagree is because you claim her “ugliness” as being a fact and not a personal opinion/preference.

  Down below you’ll see pictures of MAMAMOO with and without make-up for comparison but make sure you understand that I’ve been a moomoo for a while and I love all of them (including their appearance), so I’m not pushing everyone down with this. I have good intentions with this post.

  If you have some time, stick around ‘till the end.




  The photo below is used various times to slander/criticize Hwasa’s appearance on, not only blogs, but also e-papers/magazines which is pretty alarming from my view point.

  This picture was taken during a rehearsal and (from what I read) Hwasa believed it wasn’t necessary to wear make-up as it wasn’t an actual show, but just a “training session”. 

  Unfortunately, the facial expression, the lighting, the angle and the bad quality of the picture obviously doesn’t help her appearance after all she’s human, but look under for another make-up-less picture to see the difference.

  Here you go: in this picture, due to the lighting, facial expression and better quality of the picture she looks way better. Bless lighting, am I right?

  If this picture makes you feel like I’m biased (which I am, to be honest, as she’s my favorite idol), here are more to dismiss those silly ideas.

  Opinions are opinions - of course -, but using a terrible picture in order to get your point across when there are many pictures to refute that idea is begging to be disagreed with.

  In my opinion though (my really biased opinion, of course, let that be known) she’s pretty. 

  Bonus: in my mother’s unbiased opinion, she’s also pretty.




  Now, leaving the solely “Hwasa” topic, let’s talk all of MAMAMOO, shall we?



  I am a big supporter of the fact that you can only be a Moomoo if you respect all the members and unfortunately that’s not 100% homogenized with the fandom’s rules

  Here is MAMAMOO with no make-up on (and oh, do they look great):

  It’s obvious every person who wears make-up on a daily basis doesn’t look as good without make-up not only because make-up is used to make someone’s face more appealing and overall more beautiful but also because you’re used to a certain bone structure (that can be easily messed around with contour and highlight), a certain color of skin and lips, fuller and more colored eyebrows, etc.

  The girls aren’t above that as they’re human - they breathe, they eat and they go to the bathroom just like all of us.

  To me, with or without make-up they look beautiful because I chose these girls as my favorite group not just for their looks but also for their music/talent and humor. Yet, I can’t deny they look more appealing with make-up and I know most of the people out there could agree with me.

  I am pulling any of them down, it’s my opinion. It’s not a fact, but an opinion based on my preferences. 

  Here’s some basis for my opinion:





  Aside from MAMAMOO (but still connected to them), I found something horrible on the internet which was apparently posted a couple of months ago. Still, it was posted, read and commented under, so I can do the same here as it’s in the public domain.

  In addition to refuting Hwasa’s haters, here’s some pictures of the “ugliest” idols listed above in order and let it be known I wasn’t aware of the existence of Bobby, Yang, Seo, Jihyo, Jung or Umji prior to this so my opinion on them isn’t biased in any way. I didn’t search exhaustively for these pictures, they were on the very top of their names’ search.

  Anyways, here are pictures of the idols.

  Warning: there’s a l o t of ugliness ahead. ;)




Here’s Bobby;

  Don’t know how someone could find him ugly with that sincere stare and plump lips, but sure…

Here’s Yoseob:

  He looks like such a happy kid, how can someone hate on him?

Here’s Rapmonster:

  Sorry, I’m biased on this one but his sincere smile is enough to make any girl swoon.

Here’s Eunkwang:

  He’s cute as hell! Reminds me of an EXO member, I just don’t remember which (not a fan of EXO, by the way).




Here’s Jihyo:

  She is such a cutie patootie omfg.

  Here’s Eunji:

  WHERE? IS? THE? UGLY?

Here’s Umji:

  Cutest smile 2KForever (and look at those cheeks!).

Here’s Hwasa:

  Queen of jeans right behind Hani, to be honest.

  Too biased to comment, sorry.




In my opinion,

  None of the idols listed above are ugly and it’s a fact they do not deserve your insults or slander as nobody deserves to be hated on (unless they’re criminals, then I really don’t care) based solely off their looks.

  Did you notice I did not state my opinion as a fact throughout this post? You can easily give your opinion without insulting anyone or making a mess. Wow!




STOP SLANDERING IDOLS. 

Distraction (Part 1)

Prompt: Your a teacher at the school for gifted youngsters and your favorite students need help sneaking out to complete a mission but Charles said it was to dangerous so he put Peter (Quicksilver) in charge of them. You on the other hand know they are ready so you get talked into distracting Peter so they can sneak out. Jean encourages you to use any method because she plans to wipe his memory.
Little did you know she completely forgets to do so and you may have a small crush on Peter.

Request for the full two parts.


“Please! I know you believe in us I can read your mind!” Jean pleaded. “I do but I don’t want to risk my job,” You replied.

“If we succeed, you’ll probably get a promotion, were not asking you to go with us just distract him!” She said.

“Who?” You asked curiously.

“Peter,” She smiled mischievously “And don’t be afraid to use any means necessary, you need to have his full undivided attention. With his speed we can’t take any chances,“ She explained.

“What do you mean my ‘any means necessary’ exactly?” You asked. She rolled her eyes in amusement.

“You know what I mean, your in your twenties
and super hot plus I know you like him, and if
anything goes wrong or you wanna say or do-things I can always erase his memory,” She said.

You couldn’t deny that did sound appealing, this was your chance to tell him exactly how you felt and maybe some other things if you know what I mean. You couldn’t deny Peter was hot and you thought about him a lot, like one time you saw him vibrate his hands you thought about what else he could vibrate.

“Fine, but you promise to erase his memory?” You asked. “Yes, trust me now go distract him,” She encouraged.


You walked into the room and Peter was leaning against the wall watching the angry teens.
“Hey (Y/N),” Peter addressed as you walked into the room.

“Hey Pete,” You said. “Listen, I need to talk to you,” You said. “Ok? But make it quick cause I need to watch them,” He said moving aside with me.

You took a deep breath and signaled Jean so they could start moving.

“Peter, I like you a lot,” You blurted out.
“You do?-” He said almost turning around. You pulled him into a hug to prevent that. "Whoa, are you okay?” He asked. The kids started opening the window which made a loud sound so you decided to say the next thing on your mind with him still in your grasp.

“I want you inside me,” You whispered.
You felt his body tense up. "Y/N) I-” He tried before you cut him off. The kids were almost out and you only had to hold him off longer. So you decided to get all your dirty thoughts out.

"Peter, I-I need you,” You whispered leaning in closely. “Think about you and your hands, fingers, tongue,” You continued.

“Think about you and what you would do to body, Peter I want you to fuck me, fuck me so hard that I’m limping the next day,” You said looking at the teens as they finished climbing out the window.

Peter swallowed at my vulgar words and licked his lips.

“Touch me everywhere, p-please,” You finished.

You heard the click and saw that they had all successfully escaped. Stepping back you kissed his cheek and ran away in utter embarrassment leaving Peter in shock.

The rest of the night you stayed in the room hoping to avoid everyone.


Peter was dismantled.

That was an understatement.

Peter Maximoff was a twenty-seven year old virgin who lived in his mothers basement up until he moved into the Charles Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters and became a teacher.

The day he met you he swore time had slowed down and not the usual way it does when he uses his power. No, it slowed down in way where he could analyze all your features individually and grow more attracted to you. He met you when Charles asked you to show him around, you were by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, once he found out about your mutation he couldn’t help to be more attracted if that were even possible.

You were this gorgeous, collage educated, fully developed women who taught at one of the most amazing school on the planet.

He honestly couldn’t get enough of you.

You both became fast friends and Peter had already accepted thats all that it could have been since he thought you were to good for him. But little did he know you liked him too, liked him so much your panties would drip just from watching him exist. Like when he ate his jaw would clench and you could see all the strength and power it possessed. Or when he smiled and his dimples would appear lighting up the whole room.

The worst part of it all was that Peter was unknowingly handsy. He grabbed your waist when passing by or when you sat on the couch there was never any room between you and his hand always somehow ended up on your thigh.

It was like this for months and the only person who knew how you felt was Jean. But Peter on the other hand, everyone knew how he felt about you except, well you. He would talk about what he would do to you if given the chance with the guys and all of them agreeing since they all shared a mutual attraction to you. He would spill his emotional side to the young girls to avoid reticule.

But today was a day like no other, Peter had just witnessed the girl of his dreams, the girl he had jerked off to a thousand times beg to be fucked my him.

He couldn’t even move because it felt like a dream.

He looked down to see a throbbing hard on and he groaned. He swore that was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

The next day was a new day. After a night of picturing you naked screaming underneath him he was going to take action. That was until you all got called in to the office for disobeying the rules, thats when Peter had noticed he had failed at his assigned task.

And now here is where you all were.

Getting scolded by Charles despite completing the mission effortlessly.

“Are you insane? Do you have any idea how this could have ended up?” He yelled.

You were getting yelled at for aiding the delinquents in escaping but you couldn’t focus because Peter had been eye fucking you from across the room.

You were one-hundred percent sure Jean did not erase his memory because the way he was looking at you now made your panties drip in curiosity.

“Peter! Get over here!,” Charles called him.

Peter stalked slowly and stood closely behind you, close enough so you could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck.

“What do you have to say for yourself? You were suppose to watch them! How did you manage to get distracted?” Charles asked.

Peter chuckled a little and looked up. His whole demeanor had changed and he seemed like he had gained a sudden new confidence.

“Why don’t you ask her?” He said referring to you.

“Fine then, explain,” Charles demanded.

“I told Peter a couple jokes and he got distracted,” You lied. “Bullshit, she came at me with some pretty nasty things Professor,” He said.

“Like what, Peter?” He asked. “Like how she wanted me in-"Don’t you think this is a little ridiculous?” You cut off.

“Im giving you a chance to tell me, you know I can use my power to check the whole situation,” Charles said. “Continue Peter,” He said.

“She told me she wanted me inside her, that she wanted me to fuck her so hard she couldn’t walk the next day. She said she wanted-"Thats enough,” Professor said turning red faced, he had always seen you more like a daughter he didn’t need those images.

Scott and Kurt both turned to look at you in amusement

“I rest my case then, nobody would be able to think straight after she said something like that to them,” He defended.

“Ok, I believe you based on the uncomfortable air in this room and you need to keep your thoughts to yourself this is a place of learning,” He said pointing at you.

“Jean, detention for a month everyone else three weeks plus no training for four months. As for (Y/N) and Peter I think you need to have a private adult talk in Peters room,” He said unable to look at you in the eye.

You were not about to face Peter, hell to the no.

You hurried out of there but you weren’t so lucky since Peter’s mutation was super speed.

Next thing you knew you were in his room and staring at the door to afraid to look back.

5

The physician who was hired to make the decision on my LTD benefit appeal denied me based on “facts” like this one. The twitter account he referred to as evidence that I’m lying about my illness is hardly active. Also, the majority of the posts are:

• Photos of pets
• Photos from Timehop (aka from years ago)
• Photos of things around my house

The few photos that “appear to be a young woman who is engaged in life activities” and “awake, smiling and alert” are FAKE. People always use social media to show the BEST moments from their lives, even if they aren’t the whole truth. I’ve had some great experiences in New York, so of course I am going to brag about them! What I don’t share on social media are the consequences of being happy for a day. I don’t share the three days I have to sleep to recover from one stand-up comedy set. I don’t share the intense pain my body is in after walking around in Central Park for a day. 

They’re called invisible illnesses for a reason. People with chronic illnesses can look completely normal. They are hidden in plain sight. 

3

      You were lying in bed, your eyes just fluttering shut, when you heard a soft knock at the door followed by Cas’ cautious voice. “Y/N?”

      You sat up in bed and squinted at the now open door. “Cas? Is everything alright?” He looked down at the ground and you turned on your lamp, illuminating the room and revealing the angel standing in the doorway. He wasn’t wearing his trench coat – which was unusual – and he looked tense, his throat bobbing nervously.

      “Would you mind if I stayed in here tonight?” Cas asked quickly. You stole one of his moves and cocked your head to the side.

      “Why? Are you sure you’re okay?”

      “Yes, I just … I would feel better if I could watch over you.” You weren’t sure why exactly you needed a guardian angel while you were sleeping in the impenetrable fortress that is the bunker, but you felt your heart rate speed up at the thought and nodded slowly, watching as he moved into your room and shut the door.

      You knew Cas worried about you, and honestly you thought it was a little over the top sometimes, but you couldn’t deny the appeal of having him in your room all night. Then when he started heading towards a chair in the corner of the room you pulled back your covers and said, “You could stay on the bed with me,” feeling particularly bold – or maybe be you were just overly tired.

      Cas looked around nervously for a moment, like that was something he was definitely not allowed to do, but then gave you a brisk nod and kicked off his shoes, sitting on the bed beside you.

      “You could lie down, you know,” you said quietly. Cas’ eyes got wide and he looked straight ahead, but he shuffled down slightly so he was lying beside you, his head just barely propped up on the headboard.

      Then, you did something even you weren’t expecting, and inched closer to Cas, leaning against him just slightly. He stiffened at first, no doubt not used to this level of intimacy, but then to your surprise he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side, your cheek resting on his unnaturally still chest. You breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed your body, humming in content as you breathed in Cas’ scent – clean and crisp, like always.

      “Goodnight, Cas,” you whispered.

      There was a brief pause that for some reason made you incredibly nervous, but then he ran his hand down your arm and back up again, saying, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

      You fell asleep that night to the steady beat of Cas’ heart and had never slept so well in your life.


*These gifs are not mine, both the gifs are from Google Images*

spyrothetimelord  asked:

Okay this is random but I just some sweet new lipsticks and idk why but it made me wonder what colour each of the guys likes best when they see the princess wearing it. Like if they're going out and the princess for some reason asks for their advice, what colour would they say because they think it's so hot on her. :D hope you're having a good day Astrid! Still hoping you get that job :D!!!

Thanks Spyro!!! I am turning in my application packet next week… it will be a long process, but so worth it if it works out!

Here are my thoughts… but I’m sure the guys would like anything you like ;)

Sid - bright red is hoooooot! It just gets him all fired up inside. He can’t deny the sex appeal of red… ~huehue

Nico - bubble gum pink for him! It’s cute and sweet and makes your lips look super tasty ~ nyyyaaa

Giles - mauve and berry is a classic look that he loves, he also loves lipstick prints on his cheeks and neck and ….~ ay ay ay

Byron - deep red is something that lights a fire for him. He also gets pretty worked up over sparkles - cuz it makes it look like there’s stars on your lips ~ kyyyah

Albert - he likes simple warm peachy colors, it doesn’t have to be really outgoing. If you choose something crazy he has heart palpitations ~ eeeee

Robert - likes very natural looking shades, or even just a little gloss. He likes soft, smooth kissable lips ~ muah

Alyn- bold pinks make his cheeks flush cuz he just thinks about kissing those softy pouty lips… ~guuuh

Leo- likes warm neutrals cuz he’s a hot ass hipster and wants you to take charge and lay a kiss on him ~ rrrooowwr

Louis - he loves soft baby pinks because it just adds to your super sweetness and he can’t help but admire your beauty ~ oh la la

Day One

Stranger Things | Steve Harrington

Requested by Anonymous: okay so because I’m a sucker for anything fall-related, can I request the “i wanted to really embrace the fall spirit so i raked my leaves into a big pile and have been jumping around in it for ages and your moving truck just pulled up beside my house, so hi i’m your new not-weird neighbour.” au with Steve Harrington if possible :)

A/N: Fall Incidents AU Prompts List & I hope you like it despite how short it is and thank you for requesting xo

I watched the leaves fall as we entered Hawkins, Indiana. I was nervous to be transferring schools at this time but there was a small sense of hope that it wouldn’t be so bad. The moving truck in front of us started to slow down and pulled over.

“Looks like we’re here, Y/N,” my dad said.

I got out of the backseat and walked in front of the house. The air smelled different from the city. The sky was a bit gloomy and the wind was strong. My dad opened the door and the movers started unpacking the truck.

A loud laugh caught my attention, it came from my neighbor’s house. A teen aged boy jumped up from the bushes, as far as I could see. His hair was the first thing I noticed. He saw the truck and started to walk over.

“Hey,” he said and raised his hand. I gave him a small smile and wave. “It’s been years since someone lived here,” he stated a random fact.

“Why did you jump from the bushes?” I asked, deciding not to beat around the bush. A metaphor made for this moment.

“What? Oh, that. No, no. I, uh, like autumn and one of my favorite things I used to do as a kid was jump into a pile of leaves,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I saw the truck so hi, I’m Steve, your new neighbor and I promise I don’t hide in bushes.”

I laughed, “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“So, Y/N, where are you from?” he asked.

“The city.”

“What brings you to Hawkins?”

“Dad’s work,” I answered.

“Well, you’ve been here for less than ten minutes and already made a friend so I think you’re off to a great start,” he proudly stated.

“Thanks.”

“It’s gonna take em a while to move everything, right?” 

“Probably, why?”

“Do you wanna jump into a pile of leaves with me?”

My laugh came out as half a scoff, “Sure, Steve.”

“Right this way, m’lady,” he stood with his arm out.

I didn’t know how sure I was about him but I couldn’t deny the appeal of jumping into leaves so I hooked my arm around his and we headed to his front yard.

reuters.com
Philippine court upholds guilty verdict on U.S. Marine in transgender woman's killing
The Philippine Court of Appeals has upheld a guilty verdict on a U.S. Marine for killing a transgender woman nearly three years ago

A lower court had found Lance Corporal Joseph Scott Pemberton guilty of killing Jennifer Laude in a hotel in Olongapo, outside a former U.S. navy base northwest of the capital, in 2014. He was jailed for 6-10 years on a Philippine military base.

The Court of Appeals denied Pemberton’s appeal due to “lack of merit”. It also raised the compensation he must pay Laude’s family to 150,000 pesos ($3,000) from 80,000 pesos.

Rebirth

{Part 1, 2} {Vibe}

The changes that Korrinth endured were many. From physical appearance to personality, the woman awoke reborn into something new; something far from what she was. Demonic whisperings were a new constant, they were the ceaseless crickets on a dark and quiet night- yet they held much more influence than an insect ever could. No, to them she was the insect and powerful beings never appreciated being subjugated by lesser creatures. Inside of her own head was the toughest battleground, but on top of that the change inspired something different. It was like learning how to walk again. Like opening one’s eyes for the first time, and seeing the universe in all it’s emerald tinted glory.

Time felt stunted, almost surreal after she awoke from her coma-like state. While the process of becoming an Illidari was strenuous to say the least, what followed was bitter sweet. Korrinth took time to study her new look, as well as the abilities that came with it. The once meager mage now sported a pair of small horns, empty sockets where eyes once were, fangs, claws, even a pair of batlike wings that came and went, but her skin was left untouched of scales or residual corruption. Her frame had changed too, tightening her core and producing lean muscles almost instantaneously, whatever blemishes she sported were long gone- while a far cry from any standard of normal, there was a certain exotic quality in her new aesthetic that she couldn’t deny was appealing.

Though the changes to her appearance paled in comparison to her slew of abilities. Fumbling at first, the redhead quickly sought to master the influx of both strength and speed. Never strong points in her life prior, the newly appointed huntress found herself giddy to test just what she could do. Often she could be seen lifting up the heavier objects in her quarters with relative ease, or zipping from one bookshelf to the next with nothing but a dull green blur behind her. Always with a bright smile on her face, or a confident chuckle, like she had just received super powers- and for all intents and purposes, she pretty much had. But not all physical changes were happy, one she found herself particularly peeved with was the taint; it had corrupted her to her very core. No longer could she channel arcane, not like she used to. Every simple spell, every flutter of mana that came from her fingers came with the sickly green of fel corruption, no matter what she tried or how she invoked the spell. Even her runes could not escape the change.

Alas, there were many downfalls to becoming one of the Illidari, ones that she immediately pegged as something most would not understand. She was never alone anymore, not with her thoughts, not with her secrets. There was always a passenger, always a snark comment to be made, or a self deprecating statement from someone who knew her just as intimately as she did herself. The nagging was insistent, and almost none stop. If it wasn’t petty comments, it was chastising remarks, or lustful passes that left the Huntress a blushing mess with their boldness. Often she found herself speaking without ever having the intent, usually resulting in either an embarrassing exchange or a steamy situation that seemed to escalate all too quickly. Not only that, but she found herself playing games with those around her, manipulating them to her own ends. She had no need other then the urge that compelled her, often leaving her wondering why afterwords. On top of that, the stark jealousy she seemed to exude was alarming to say the least. Quickly she learned that the physical changes were none of the sacrifice. No, the battle would be one that nobody else ever saw.

Korrinth sat at the bottom of her bed, folding a long strip of linen cloth until it resembled a ribbon. A hint of self consciousness compelled her to cover the felfire that burned in place of her eyes. Not that it was overly noticeable; the flames were so intense that one could barely see the lack of orbs. Nor did they leave any mar when they melted cleaned from her skull. The pain was intense in the moment, but what followed was far more infuriating. Her sight wasn’t lost, but it was changed. She saw in auras, usually magical now, and with the energies swirling around the Temple she often saw the same color in different shades. Of course it was confusing at first, especially now that her field of vision extended to behind her. It was something she still sought to control, other Illidari had spoken about their mastery over the Spectral Sight. That with enough concentration they could see how they once did. Every so often, with the right focus, she could switch among the many filters the magically imbued sight boasted. And every so often she would get a glimpse of the world she once knew. It made her appreciate the simple things she once took for granted, if nothing else.

Patiently she waited, twiddling thumbs as anxiousness came over her. Soon another of the Order would be along to collect and guide her. Today was the day she would receive her tattoos, or ‘soul prisons’ as she liked to call them. While there was no denying that they had a certain visual appeal, the runic tattoos that the Illidari sported served purposes far greater then most understood. They acted like a container for the demons soul and its expanding power, lessening the bond and giving the hunter the upper hand as far as control. It was another tool used to subjugate the demon within, and a powerful one at that. It was certainly a large point of interest for her, given her background as a runeweaver, and became something she continually studied since her arrival at the Illidari camp. Usually fledgling hunters received basic runes, but once their powers grew those designs needed to be expanded on and strengthened. It was a neat guide to knowing just how strong an Illidari had gotten in their tenure.

A muted knock came to steal her away from her thoughts. Lifting from her seat, the crimson haired huntress would move to answer, pulling the heavy steel plated door to the side with relative ease. Unsurprisingly Xer’zun was there to greet her with a familiar stoic expression, one that she saw more and more around the Temple. She was assigned to his squad for training, apparently he had been one of the early arrivals, one that had already been given time to prove himself. While they didn’t know one another very well, Korrinth was still happy to have his council. While he had his quirks, much like they all did, he was calmer than most and always willing to offer friendly advice. Today however, their exchange was wordless. Instead the man just motioned for her to follow along, and she did just that.

“You’ve already faced the hardest part of your trials, this is more of a reward. It should help tame the voices and hopefully the urges. The application of the runes is pretty painful, I must warn you.” Xer explained as they traversed the dimly lit hallway. “But we did sign up for a life of pain and suffering did we not?” A mirthless chuckle followed as they both knew that statement hit a little too close to home.

Merely the woman nodded her head, opting to keep quiet and take in whatever information was given to her. Even with the constant comments her newly appointed inner self continued to barrage. A sigh escaped her, but little else was said as she continued to follow him.

“Good luck.” Was all Xer added as he stepped to the side of the archway, pulling back the drapes that acted as a door.

The room was spacious enough, looking as if it was decorated for Lord Illidans specific tastes. Sparing no expense when it came to the finery, a far cry from the beddings that recruits received. However, for what happened here, comfort was likely the smallest of luxuries. Instantly she noted that the creature applying runes wasn’t an Illidari. Scoffing she would continue as he waved her in, directing her to the lounger. As she got closer the tools of the trade became more apparently visible; A sacrificial demonbone dagger sat stewing in a bowl of neon green blood, soaking in the visceral energies. She had read about the process, and how far away from tattooing it seemed. It was much more akin to a ritual one would expect from a sangromancer.

“Good evening ma’am. If you’ll excuse the rush, it’s been a long repetitive day. Do you mind if we skip the pleasantries? I have everything prepared for you already.”

“I’d prefer it.” Korrinth replied before taking a seat at the edge of the couch, proceeding to disrobe soon after. While the action itself was innocent, as only providing a canvas for one to work with, the sultry Succubi within her head continually berated her. Sensually erotic thoughts seemed to dominate her mind at the very act, and somewhere in her jumbled mess of thoughts, she prayed that the runes would help curb these baser instincts. Looking to the side as she fought an uphill battle, she would try to focus on something- anything- that would take her mind off this particular situation. Alas, no such salvation came, at least not anytime soon.

The inscriber quickly began to get to work, taking a smoothed pen-like object and tracing it over her form. Laying out the base work for the runes. But his touch only fueled her desires further, evident by the shiver that overtook her. With a resentful grunt, Korrinth would rest her gaze on what appeared to be a runic pattern. Each demon responded to a specific one more then others, from what she could tell that seemed to be the Sayaads base design. Finding comfort in the work of art, her ‘eyes’ would trace along the patterns as the scribe continued to lay said pattern out on her body.

As time went on the shakes only became worse. Even with her distraction, she could do little to curb the demons desires- which were continually muddied with her own. With a pleased whimper as the etchings reached more intimate areas, she would quickly hold a hand up, “Okay stop. Please. Just… please stop. Leave- go now. Get the fuck out of here.” She spat out with all the feigned venom she could muster, hoping to scare the man off. And she succeeded in just that as the man moved to collect his things. Though the redhead quickly added with the same agitated tone, “Leave it there!” Which only made the inscriber double his efforts to hurry out.

The huntress tried to calm herself, with deep and measured breathes. Inhale, hold, then exhale, just as the most seasoned hunters had taught her. Surprisingly, it seemed to help. With her aide gone, and the materials in front of her… a choice presented itself; either she would suffer through another ritual with the help of another aide, or she would take matters into her own hands. The latter intrigued her to no end, after all runes were something of great interest. Applying one, let alone one that had been closely guarded was endlessly enticing. Though even more of a surprise, the demonic voice fought against the notion. Perhaps it was spite, but that alone was enough to drive Korrinths decision.

With a deep breath she would grasp onto the daggers handle, looking to the markings on her upper shoulder. With another inhale she would plunge the blade into her flesh before carving out the first etchings of a rune. Almost instantly the energies responded in kind to one another- crackling out as her flesh easily parted. While there was no blood that came from her open wound, a bright viridian shined from the point of incision and mildly began to crack around the cut instead. Screams came in bunches as Korrinth couldn’t help but cry out. The pain was unbearable, not only for her, but for the demon screeching in her head. It was clear that they shared that same pain, and it was worth investigating at a later time if it was really something the bonded demon felt harder than she had. Muffled yells came as the redhead clenched fanged teeth against her bottom lip, though it did nothing to lower her own volume. The screams still came behind closed lips as a dark redish purple drop of blood dribbled down her chin. While pain was something that constantly echoed down through the hallways and courtyards of the Temple, these were different. As if characterized by the self-inflicted wounds.


A few days later…

Korrinth sat on the back of the line in the mess hall. Freshly glowing runes marked her shoulders, sides, and thighs, though curiously she was missing any on her back. She looked exhausted, both mentally and physically. More of a spectre moving through the crowd then anyone tangible. Though the pair of voices she caught in passing caused her ears to droop down.

“Isn’t that the woman who did her own runes? You have to be some kind of masochist to want to do something like that. Impressive though. I hear she’s one of the few to actually pull it off.”

While the words weren’t meant for her ears, she still overheard them. With a sigh she would move from the line, placing her tray on a table passed. She would likely never admit the true reason she opted to apply her own runes. But at the very least, she had a much better handle on the voices within, and for that she could be grateful.

(Mentions: @progeny-of-lies)

This Christmas (Part One)

Summary: In which this Christmas takes a turn for the unexpected when Bucky asks you a favor.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,639

A/N: This one goes out to my favorite contradiction, @marvelingatthewonder on her birthday. I hope you have an amazing day. This was supposed to be a one shot, but then it got too long and here we are (I had a feeling you and your cliché-loving heart wouldn’t mind 😉)

The intro for this along with a bunch of other wonderful, Christmas fics can be found here

“This Christmas” Masterlist

Originally posted by e-tudiante

You never get tired of walking through the city, especially during the Christmas season. There are bright lights around every corner and decorations in every shop’s full-sized window. The only thing missing is some festive music, but you’ve come up with a simple solution for that problem. You can sing Christmas songs yourself.

Right as you’re in the middle of your own rendition of ‘Mary, Did You Know?’, one that doesn’t hold a candle to Pentatonix’s version, your phone starts ringing. There’s a slight struggle when you take the device out of your pocket and can’t unlock it. Gloves are perfect for keeping you warm, but useless when it comes to using your phone. After three failed attempts at inputting your passcode, you pull off one of your gloves and answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, doll.”

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2

On 25th May 1991, Michelle Lodzinski, single mother of 5-year-old Timothy Wiltsey, took her little boy to celebrate Memorial Day weekend at the local carnival.  But what should have been a fun trip soon turned to tragedy when Timothy went missing while waiting in line.  Or at least, that’s what Michelle reported to police.  But despite claiming to be at the carnival for over an hour, police could find no witnesses who had seen her there with Timothy, and the car park she said she had used had in fact been closed on that day.  10 days later, Michelle said that her son had been taken by 2 men with a knife, later changing her story to 2 men and a woman.  When no such suspects could be identified, police honed in on Michelle.

5 months later, a teacher discovered a Teengage Mutant Ninja Turtles shoe in marshland near a business park.  Highly publicised as the shoes Timothy had last been seen in, the teacher took his finding to the police.  Upon seeing it, Michelle denied it was her sons.  When 3 weeks passed with no action taken, the teacher passed the story on to the local newspaper, resulting in front page news and forensic testing on the shoe.  Sadly, these tests were inconclusive. It was soon discovered that Michelle had actually worked at the business park, which she conveniently omitted when relaying her work history to the authorities. When a fresh search of the area was conducted, law enforcement discovered the matching shoe, alongside Timothy’s skeletal remains.  Due to the severe decomposition, his body had to be identified with dental records, and no cause or time of death could be confirmed.

It wasn’t until 2014, on what would have been Timothy’s 29th birthday, that Michelle was arrested and charged with murder. After being found guilty in May of this year, her sentencing was postponed while she appealed for a retrial.  Her appeal was denied on 25th October.

anonymous asked:

social security disability anon: the process is really long and rough and CONFUSING. if you've already been denied and you're appealing that, definitely look into getting a lawyer. there are lawyers that will, instead of charging you, take a portion of your disability money to cover their fees which is usually fine because the process takes forever and then they have to give you a massive amount of backpay (took me 2 years to finally get disability & they have to pay me for all that time :) )

Thank you! I hope anon sees this.

Put That Out

For @themoose-is-in for the @xmas-usukexchange2016. There’s not really a prompt because they were super duper chill about this so! I look a lot of liberty and this is slightly self-indulgent of a prompt I read ages ago but I can no longer find.
I hope you enjoy it and I hope you’ve had a great holiday so far!!

Pairing: USUK/Libertea
Rating: PG?
Wordcount: 1,850
In progress/Complete
Misc: Exchange gift, alcohol mentions but not drunkenness, smoking as a plot point
Summary: Alfred hates the cigarettes Arthur so enjoys; they’re bad for your health, they smell awful, and they turn his friend into a condescending arse whenever he tries to convince him to stop.

Alfred had always loved house parties; the way the music bounced off the walls and ran right up through you, the absolutely zero amounts of space people had to move, beer pong on someone’s parents’ fancy dining table. Perhaps the whole thing was romanticised a little. But those things people disliked about the parties had always appealed to him. There was something refreshing about getting sweaty dancing in someone’s poorly vented living room, and it was vastly more rewarding to drink cheap alcohol out of mismatched plastic cups than to pay ten dollars for overpriced and equally shitty beers in a dark club. At least at parties he tended to know everyone in the room.

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I was arrested on Oct. 10, on Indigenous Peoples’ Day, a holiday where America is meant to celebrate the indigenous people of North America.

I was in North Dakota, standing in solidarity, side-by-side with a group of over 200 water protectors, people who are fighting the Dakota Access Pipeline.

People who carry a rainbow of colors on their skin. People who gathered together because they realize that if we don’t begin taking genuine steps to protect our precious resources—our soil, our water, our essential elements—we will not have a healthy or thriving planet to pass on to future generations.

I was in North Dakota, standing side by side with Native Americans.

You know, those who were here before us.

Well, guess what, America? They’re still here.

And they are still fighting the good fight. A fight that serves each and every one of us.

They are still putting their lives on the line to protect the roots that feed our existence.

And, guess what else, dear America? They are still being ignored.
We are still throwing them in jail.
We are still silencing their dedication to protect us from the planetary consequences that will catastrophically bleed from our ignorance.

We wear their heritage, their sacred totems, as decoration and in fashion trends, failing to honor their culture. Headdresses, feathers, arrows. Moccasins, sage, beadwork. You know what I’m talking about, Coachella. Walking around the flea market this weekend, I can’t even tell you how many native references I saw being used in a way that feeds our western narrative.

We buy plastic teepees from Toys-R-Us and set them up in our living rooms for children to play in.

We grow up romanticizing native culture, native art, native history… without knowing native reality.
Somehow, we’ve allowed 200-plus years to go by without questioning the western truth we have been told to believe about Native Americans.

And now, in 2016, in the day and age of exciting technology, which empowers revolution and curiosity, we are still blindly (or maybe not) allowing 200 years of unjust history to continue.

We are allowing Native American voices to be swallowed by the white noise of distraction.

Doesn’t this sadden you, America?

When we talk about marginalized communities in our country, we do not (on a mainstream level) include Native Americans.

When we talk about sex trafficking in our country, we do not (on a mainstream level) include Native Americans.

And when we talk about governmental integrity, we do not (on a mainstream level) include Native Americans.

Treaties are broken. Land is stolen. Dams are built. Reservations are flooded. People are displaced.

Yet we fail to notice. We fail to acknowledge. We fail to act.

So much so that it took me, a white non-native woman being arrested on Oct 10th in North Dakota, on Indigenous Peoples’ Day, to bring this cause to many people’s attention. And to the forefront of news publications around the world.

The day I was detained, 26 others had to dress in orange as well, as they were booked into the Morton County jail. Did you hear about them?

Twenty-six men and women who put their livelihoods on the line, to protect their children, your children and my future children.

Twenty-six men and women who realize that millions of people depend on the Missouri River for drinking water.

Millions.

And, you guessed it, you may be one of them. Did that catch your attention?

When the Dakota Access Pipeline breaks (and we know that too many pipelines do), millions of people will have crude-oil-contaminated water. I know it is easy to be apathetic or detached from the reality that fossil fuel contamination could actually affect you and the ones you love… But hear me loud and clear: If you are a human who requires water to survive, then this issue directly involves you. Don’t let the automatic sink faucets in your homes fool you—that water comes from somewhere, and the second its source is contaminated, so is your bathtub, and your sink, and your drinking liquid. We must not take for granted the severity of this truth.

Listen up, America:

The reason we were freezing our a—es off on Oct. 10 in peaceful protest was because the night before (mind you, right after the presidential debate and on the eve of Indigenous Peoples’ Day—coincidence?) the U.S. Court of Appeals denied an injunction to halt construction of the pipeline. As in: They began building once again.

Whatever your cause is. Whatever your passion is. Whatever you care about most… none of your efforts or hard-earned opinions will matter when the planet and the people you’re fighting for have nothing left to show for it.

The Dakota Access Pipeline, my friends, is not another time to ignore, mistreat and turn a blind eye to Native Americans. But it is time to guarantee the safety of Manhattan—despite the soon-to-be-fueled gas pipeline called AIM. (For all of you in the tri-state area, this is being built under a failing nuclear plant. Fukushima only happened five years ago. This plant is just about as far from Manhattan as the U.S. government told Americans to keep away from Fukushima to protect them from a worst-case scenario. Look it up and do something about it.) We have the technology for renewable energy, and it’s up to us to begin utilizing.

I appreciate all of you out there who supported me while I was arrested. I am humbled and grateful for your love, your prayers and your hashtags.

And what could it look like if we learned from this instance, where it took myself getting detained to raise awareness about Native Americans? What if we used it as a catalyst for a full societal shift in the way we start thinking and treating and learning from indigenous peoples? So that in the future, it doesn’t require a non-native celebrity to bring attention to the cause.

What if we took the hashtag #FreeShailene and made it #ProtectCleanWater, or #HonorNativeTreaties, or #IStandWithStandingRock?

What if we don’t let this stop trending on social media, at our dinner tables, in the streets? What if we wake up to the possibilities of noticing, of choosing and of acting on our awareness?

What if we take the time to understand the dynamics of what is at risk here?

Will you choose money, or will you choose children? Will you choose ignorance, or will you choose love? Will you choose blindness, or will you choose freedom?

I am not scared. I am not afraid. I am grateful, and I am amazed to be standing by the sides of so many peaceful warriors. Standing Rock “protests” are rooted in ceremony and in prayer. I’ve been there. And all these narratives about riots? Just watch my Facebook livestream and decide for yourself who looks more dangerous: police in riot gear with batons, or native grandmothers and children smudging sage and singing songs.

Thank you, to all the tribes who have gathered. To all the nations standing as one. To all the people who know that if not we, then who? And if not now, then when?

Simply feeding off the hype of a celebrity’s arrest ain’t going to save the world. But, standing together will. Please stand in solidarity with the Sioux people of Standing Rock Reservation to ensure that we still have rivers to swim in, springs to drink from and lakes to float on. Will you join us?

Mni wiconi. Water is life.

—  Shailene Woodley: The Truth About My Arrest
Subway Encounter

           This is NOT part of the Nessian fic I am currently writing. This is just a random idea that popped into my head one day and so I decided to post it today! It’s fairly short, but hope you enjoy it all the same! 

         Nesta was thoroughly exhausted after work. Her feet ached terribly as she boarded the subway amid the swarm of crowded people who were also heading home from work. No seats are available when she steps into the subway car.

           Fucking typical. Of course there wouldn’t be a seat after her grueling day dealing with horrible customers and two sore feet to top it off.

           She slid between two passengers in the hopes of finding a rail to hold onto. Nesta quickly discovered they were all taken much to her annoyance.

           Can this day get any worse?

           The subway lurched forward at that moment causing Nesta to fumble for stability. She would have recovered her near fall except the man in front of her had less balance than she did and ended up knocking her backwards into someone else.

           Her body collided into a sturdy chest and before she could adjust herself an arm wrapped tightly around her. If she had given it a second thought she would have assumed this person was only trying to help her, but her seething emotions were strung too high after today. All she could think about was this darkly tanned arm banding across her whole frame. And the fact that his hand had accidently gripped her breast in the process.

           “Let go of me you pig!” Nesta rammed her arm backwards striking something she could only imagine to be his manhood by the way he immediately let go of her with a groan and doubled over in pain. She whirled around to see a man wincing with closed eyes as he cupped between his legs.

           “Damn,” he said through gritted teeth. “Here I thought I was saving a sweet girl, but you turned out to be something else.”

           “I didn’t need your help.” Nesta brushed herself off in an attempt to remove the feeling of his touch that still sent shocks through her body. The warmth of his fingers had been felt through her shirt. She decided the unpleasant encounter should be better off forgotten.

           The man looked up at Nesta with bright hazel eyes that struck her speechless for a moment. He was gorgeous. In a ruggedly handsome kind of way with long dark hair pulled into a bun and scruff that went perfectly with the look. He had muscles that rippled when he stood up and towered over her. Black tattoos swirled on the top half of his upper arm and continued underneath his pine green shirt where Nesta couldn’t see. This man looked to be made of earthy elements. In the cramped subway car he didn’t seem to belong here and would be better suited in the wilderness where he was free of this civilized trap of a city.

           “See something you like sweetheart?” He grinned when he noticed her appraisal of his features.

           Nesta scowled at not being less obvious. With a turn of her head she made her dismissal clear. She didn’t see the shocked expression flicker across his face at her action. He wasn’t used to women ignoring his flirtations.

           “You know it’s not everyday you tumble into a handsome stranger,” he said. She kept her head turned away allowing him the opportunity to look over the stone cold pillar of a woman that stood before him. She wore dress slacks and a shirt that was modest for offices, but he could tell she had lovely curves hidden underneath her attire. And the brief touch of her breasts against his forearm confirmed that thought, though admittedly that wasn’t his intention when he tried to save her in the first place.

           Damn. I still wouldn’t mind taking a tumble in the sheets with this woman though.

           He noticed the woman roll her eyes, but another jolt of the car had different passenger toppling her into his ready arms this time. Apparently fate wanted them to collide with each other at this rate.

           “Now you have to consider yourself lucky to have fallen into my arms twice now sweetheart.” He held her firmly to his chest as the car continued to jostle passengers against each other. His arm this time was banded across her back while her face was tucked against his beating heart.

           Nesta could hear the steady beat beneath his skin. Her cheek rested against his firm chest as she inhaled a warm spicy scent that came from this stranger. The savory smell had her hungering for something she never felt before.

           Gods he smells good. Nesta enjoyed the smell for another brief second before placing her arms between their bodies and pushing away to create a few inches of space.

           “Don’t call me sweetheart,” Nesta glared up at him.

           “Then what should I call you?” He gave her a cocky grin that has surely sent other women to his bed, but Nesta wasn’t falling for his charm.

           “How about never in your dreams.”

           “Ouch,” He theatrically winces. “You wound my poor heart. Perhaps you can grant me something in return to make it better?”

           The playful tone stoked a fire in Nesta. Let’s see just how much this stranger can take. “A kiss then?” She offers coyly.

           Her unexpected words have him speechless, but he quickly regains composure. Definitely not the answer he anticipated, but one he couldn’t deny was extremely appealing.

           “And where do you plan to kiss me lovely stranger?” He’s curious to see what she’ll do next.

           She raised her hands to cup each side of his face. “On the lips. Unless you had somewhere else in mind?”

           He searched those blue grey eyes that brewed a storm and wondered if he can survive this woman who has him wrapped around her finger in mere minutes. Of course he has other places he would like her mouth to be on, but those are for another time and place to consider.

           “I can think of many other areas in need of your attention that have recently been hurt by your actions,” He nudges slightly closer. His hips are almost flush against hers and he sees realization dawn on her face. She remembers her previous encounter involving her elbow and his groin.

           “Maybe later,” She breathes before rising on her toes. He leans forward to what he is expecting will be a damn good kiss, but she leans toward his ear instead. “If you keep acting like a brute your kiss is going to be your lips meeting my fist. And of course we can’t forget the other part of you that so desperately want to have the same treatment,” Nesta whispers before leaning back and stepping out his arm that encased her.

           His other hand, that has been stabilizing them this whole time by holding onto the upper rails, clenches tightly. He has never been more excited about a woman until now.

           She turns away from him again and he knows that he would be an idiot to loose her now. She has been the only one to challenge him so greatly and make his blood boil for a multitude of reasons.

           With quick efficiency he pulls out his business card and borrows a pen from another passenger. He scribbles a few words on the card before he notices that the woman is leaving the car at her stop that has quickly arrived.

           “Wait!” He wades through the crowd much quicker than her short frame did and catches up to her. “Just in case you ever want another encounter from this handsome stranger,” he hands his card over. “But next time call me.” He winks before she shakes her head in exasperation and steps onto the platform.

           The train leaves carrying the man that has irked Nesta to no end since she first stumbled into him. When the train is gone she looks down at his business card.

           Cassian.

           In the corner of the card are a few scrawled words. I am still expecting that kiss sweetheart.

           Unexpected laughter bubbles from Nesta for the first time that day. She stares at the name for a good minute before she lets a small smile play on her lips. Perhaps she will give Cassian a call.

don’t make me fall in love again if he won’t be here next year

disclaimer

Excerpt: Phil was a Christmas man. He was, in fact, Christmassy to a degree which slightly astounded his boyfriend slash housemate Dan, who had previously considered himself the most Christmassy around.

THIS IS A SEQUEL! READ PART ONE HERE

Beta: Laney

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: kissing, swearing, food mentions

read on ao3

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