i have to go and vomit

Okay,,, but think about aliens finding put about how babies are made. Like us humans feed them the stereotypical ‘stork delivers it’ as jokes but they actually belive us. Then a mated human on one of the ships belly starts growing and the aliens are super confused because their technology isn’t built to detect life inside of other life forms and the aliens start stressing. Like 'Human Frankie! You vomited this morning you clearly need rest’ and the human is just like 'Nah it’s morning sickness I can still work hand me a tool’. And it keeps going on like this until the girl has a big belly and the aliens are just like 'omg omg omg our human is dYING’. Until 9 months in and the girl starts actually having contractions. One human calmly start telling the girl to take deep breath while others start prepping the medical room. Hours later a baby is on board and the aliens freak out like 'THE HATCHLING WAS ALIVE WHEN IT CAME’ and 'IT CAME OUT OF WHAT?! And just,,,

Out Of Context Critical Role Sentence Starters

“Seventeen! Puke on those fucking guards!“ 

 "I would like to buy your hair for a hundred gold pieces." 

 "You can’t walk off in the middle of hide-and-seek again! I’ve been in a barrel for an hour, I fell asleep in there!" 

 "I am a little evil magnet." 

 "Do you want to do a reach-around and see if you get a handful of wooden boob?" 

 "I show him my ass and I leave." 

 "I once saw him kill a man with his taint." 

 "I covered my hand in ink and, yeah…" 

 "My name is Burt Reynolds and that offends me." 

 "Your hands are just covered in piss now." 

 "I bury my shame." 

 "Don’t worry, I still have my lips." 

 "You realize that I was born to shove things in holes…" 

 "Vomit on those bitches." 

 "I’m the most wicked narwhal of all time!" 

 "Some people have no sense of FUCKING HONOR." 

 "You’ll leave when Burt Reynolds tells you to leave." 

 "Remember that time you killed a kid?" 

 "Turn around 180 degrees then run as fast as you can." 

 "I’m just sitting in the corner going HAHAHAHAHAA!" 

"The butt flap is down." 

 "It’s not sexual at all, I’m not attracted to you! Like literally if it happened I would be ill." 

 "Alright, I’ll whip it out again." 

 "Hey, _____. How much XP would _____ get for drowning an entire cargo hold of slave children?" 

 "What’s the term for when your penis is inverted?" 

 "Roses are red, violets are blue. We’re both gnomes and you are sooooo foxy.”

 "He smells of sandalwood. And dismissiveness.“ 

 "And my thoughts are still fuck you, no way, bye-bye." 

 "You’re right! He is no hollaback gnome." 

 "We don’t do anything with dignity!”

 ”_____’s lifeless corpse has a pool of urine around it.“ 

 "Nobody sweating more than is…you know necessary when being threatened by a big fuck-off dragon.“ 

 "Hit him in the arse!" 

 "Most of what I do is long and hard." 

 "I just got one of those terrible ideas I get on occasion." 

 "I died as I lived. Hard." 

 "I’m gonna dominate the guy in front." 

 "YOUR SOUL IS FORFEIT." 

 "Fancy fancy mustache that you cannot wipe off your face!" 

 "Hey, look! I found a hole!" 

 "Oh! I got hit with his dick!" 

 "I’ll just punch him in his dragon face." 

 "I’m going to stand over here and fail to stay in character." 

 "Nothing can go wrong. This is a great idea!" 

 "He was trying to corrupt my soul or whatever…but good luck with that." 

 "You were like a dick in a box." 

 "This probably isn’t a good idea but…whatever." 

 "Will you come check this hatch for boobies?”

As promised, plants poisonous for common pets

Hello, witchies! Earlier today, I said that I was going to make a post about plants that are REALLY bad for your pets. I know a lot of us have familiars, animals we feel connections to, or even just a beloved furry friend. I also know that a lot of us incorporate plants into our craft. However, that can turn deadly quickly. Here are some poisonous plants, according to the pet poison hotline.

This is autumn crocus, which should not be confused for spring crocus. Spring crocus, however, should not be ingested because it can cause vomiting and diarrhea. But, autumn crocus is SO MUCH worse. It is highly toxic and can cause things such as kidney and respiratory failure.

Azalea is such a beautiful plant and is a common favorite among those who favor flowers. Don’t have it your yard, though, if you have pets who love to much on plants. Signs of initial ingestion consist of vomiting, diarrhea, and excessive drooling. If you see these signs and azalea is within the area, take your pet to the vet immediately, because your furry friend can enter a coma and possibly die.


This is Kalanchoe. Avoid this plant unless you want your friend to vomit excessively and obtain heart arrhythmia. 


I’ve mentioned these in the past before, but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don’t have these anywhere near you if you have pets, especially cats. Even a few leaves can cause kidney failure.  Some are benign, but DON’T TAKE THE RISK!! If you notice that your cat has eaten any lilies, take it to the vet IMMEDIATELY. The sooner you do, the higher chance you have of saving them.


Some of you may be surprised, but Daffodils are indeed on the list. The worst of the side effects can include vomiting, respiratory depression and heart arrhythmia.


Sago palm can induce bloody stool, liver failure, and death in some occasions. It’s more dangerous because these are indoor plants, making them more accessible for your furry buddies.


Here are some other common ones, including some vegetables:

  • alcohol 
  • apple seeds
  • onions
  • candy
  • coffee
  • tulips
  • garlic
  • gum
  • mushrooms
  • any kind of fruit pit
  • tea
  • tomato fruit and stems
  • walnuts
  • salt
  • Oleander
  • Lily of the Valley
  • yeast dough
  • artificial sweeteners
  • walnuts
  • grapes

PLEASE RESEARCH ANY AND ALL FOODS BEFORE GIVING THEM TO YOUR PET!! 

The Signs as Things My AP English Teacher has Said
  • ARIES: "You'd think you would never get bored stabbing a monkey"
  • TAURUS: "Your nose is a brothel"
  • GEMINI: "They've probably been taught, by a man, that spiders are going to kill them"
  • CANCER: "Out of all the things that is not a thing I want"
  • LEO: "That's fine, I don't wear underwear"
  • VIRGO: "Eyelashes are like baboon butts for your eyes"
  • LIBRA: "No one's tickled me that way"
  • SCORPIO: "I would rather sniff Vladimir Putin's chest"
  • SAGITTARIUS: "Guys, you really have to focus on good hookers"
  • CAPRICORN: "Just let me be dead for like five minutes? Please?"
  • AQUARIUS: "I would've cried with you, but out of joy at your failure"
  • PISCES: "That was so funny I almost vomitted"

[ image description: A screen shot of a post that reads “Don’t cross oceans for people who wouldn’t cross a puddle for you.” Someone has crossed this out with a big grey X and underneath added “No, do it. Do cross oceans for people. Love people, all people. No conditions attached, no wondering whether or not they’re worthy. Cross oceans, climb mountains. Life and love isn’t about what you gain, it’s about what you give.” End of descripton ]

I hate this post, I hate it so much. And let me tell you why.

At first it seems like a pretty good post, right? You should love people and do things for them because you want to or because it’s nice, or just because you love them, not because you expect something in return. Yeah. We learn that as kids. But listen. Listen to me. It is not that simple. Yes you should do nice things for people. Carry in your grandmother’s grocerys even if she forgets to say thank you. Sure. But you should never, never, pour yourself into someone who does not give back to you.

Doing everything for someone who gives you nothing in return is not love.

A friend of mine worded it really well “The point of the original post was to emphasise that your own mental/physical health is more important than someone’s selfish needs.” It’s not romantic to run yourself into the ground for someone who can’t even be bothered to care about you. And not only is it not romantic, it’s unhealthy.

I have, on more than one occasion, “crossed oceans” for people who I do believe loved me, but who didn’t even come close to crossing them for me. And do you know what I got out of that? The first one I lost 10 pounds because I was so miserable I could barely eat and I was throwing up what I did eat. And I was still doing whatever I could to be with them, and make them happy, even though they didn’t seem to be willing to put any work in themself. Why bother, I was always there. The second one I ran my own mental health so thin that that literally could not do anything for him, all I could do is sit in the bathtub and think about how I coudln’t feel anything. But I still refused to turn my phone off and ignore his messages. I still made myself avaible to him because he “needed me.”

There was nothing romantic about either of those situations (note: only one was a romantic relationship but the idea of giving and giving and giving when you’re gettin nothing back is romanticized whether it’s in a romantic or platonic relationship.) There was nothing beautiful or selfless about it. It was miserable. I was miserable. I can remember one of my friends telling me he missed me because all I could talk about was the person I had allowed to become my whole life.

And in the end, both of them stopped talking to me.

Don’t believe anyone when they say the second part of that post. It’s bullshit and I’m really tired of seeing it romanticized. It tells people (especailly young girls) that this is an okay way for a relationship to be, that this is what they should be doing. 

There is nothing selfish about demanding that your emotional labour be reciprocated. That’s what makes a relationship (romantic, platonic, or otherwise) healthy. That’s what love is. Both people giving. Both people supportin each other. Not one person giving until they have nothing left for themself. 

Yet another from this long list of prompts, completely unprompted.

Number Twelve: “I’m pregnant.”


The text came in at 7:17am, and in the mean time, Stiles had made his way through four and a half breakdowns, all of them for different reasons.

Number One: Male werewolves could get pregnant, and tying into that:

Number Two: Derek had never found it relevant to their two year relationship to share this fun fact. That didn’t say much as to his thoughts on their future together, which stung.

Number Three: Stiles was going to be a father at twenty-four.

Number Four: Just the night before, with Derek in Argentina visiting Cora, Stiles ate a dinner of Cheetos, plain microwaved hotdogs wrapped in bread, and four beers before passing out on the couch with the tv remote in his hand. He was not ready to be a father.

Number Five (still ongoing, more or less halfway through): They were going to have to move because no amount of corner guards or stupid little outlet plugs could childproof the loft. The door to the kitchen was literally a jagged hole in a brick wall. Stiles caught his shins on it regularly, they were always a mess of scabs and bruises.

Actually his entire body was a mess of scabs and bruises, because that was his life now, had been since sophomore year: fighting off the forces of supernatural evil.

Too bad he couldn’t childproof his life.

Oh god, they were going to have to move out of Beacon Hills. Away from the pack.

Nothing was stable in Beacon Hills, it had been eight years of panic and anxiety and near deaths and actual deaths. They couldn’t bring a baby into their current lives, Stiles wouldn’t even bring an adult into this hellhole. Who was trained in firearms. With combat experience.

Keep reading

Someone’s YA Dystopian Future novel is going to feature one character being a natural leader and then revealing:

“I was at the Fyre Festival in 2017.”

The whole camp went quiet, with the exception of Daran, who swore softly. Chelsea looked like she was about to cry; Pete laughed softly with disbelief. “You were at the Fyre Festival?”

Craig nodded slowly, his gaze not leaving the flames in front of him. “One of the first ones in. One of the last ones out.”

Susan furrowed her brow, trying to piece the words together. Would it be inappropriate to ask him? Was it a religious thing? A massacre?

“What’s a Fire Festival?” The question slipped from her lips before she could help it, and suddenly all eyes were on her–all except Craig’s. The fire still flickered inside them.

“There was just one. The Fyre Festival, with a ‘y’. They thought it was clever.” He sighed, stroked his beard, and shifted a little before continuing. “It was supposed to be a simple weekend in the Bahamas. Me and a bunch of other rich kids packed our clothes, gathered our things, and took a plane down south. Everything was going smoothly…but when we hit the first landing strip, that’s when we started to realize that something had gone awry. Instead of seeing a private beach in front of us, we saw a crowded tourist trap. We were promised private jets, fancy boats, the full VIP experience…” His eyes flicked up to her, and though his mouth curved up in a smile, the eyes did not share in it. “But none of that was anywhere to be seen. We thought it would be fine, all we had to do was get our things, make sure they were together, and they’d lead us to the hotel, but…it was already growing dark, and that’s when the luggage arrived. Unloaded from one of those giant storage containers, the big ones, like you see on the docks. Just tossed out to the crowd, one after another. No conveyer belts, no lockers, no express deliveries to the rooms…and it was when I finally got my bag, with a dented crease along the side, like it had been resting under someone’s golf clubs, that I realized: everything had gone wrong.

“Anyway, I’m standing there with this bag, and it occurs to me how hungry I am, so I start looking for the restaurant. I was young, and foolish…fortunately, Gabe was young and foolish, too, so we both headed off to find the restaurant, thinking it would be there.”

His smile widened, showing those teeth again. “There was no restaurant. They fed us sandwiches–small, flat, flimsy sandwiches, with that bread you see on a gas station shelf, and some meat they said was ham. A single wilted piece of lettuce and a piece of rubbery cheese were the condiments, if you could call them that…Gabe said he saw someone with a ketchup packet. I didn’t believe him. Served in a white styrofoam box.

“Anyway, this would be regal fare to us today, but back then, to us, it might as well have been cow dung. I saw three people vomiting their food right back out; the girl next to me saw the same thing, and she became number four. I don’t know how many of us managed to actually choke our way through the meal, or how many of us actually made it back to go onto the plane, but I do know this: there were two thousand of us left in that village when the last boat left the island. Two thousand of us left to fend for ourselves. 

“When the sun rose the next day, we were one thousand nine hundred and ninety four. Four of us were missing; two were dead. It was then that I realized that this was going to be a live-or-die situation. I chose to live.”


I would continue with this but it is late and I needed sleep an hour ago.

All of the angry anti-radfem stuff that I see about periods has lately been bothering me. I’ve been in my bed today, with heating pads and ibuprofen, trying to distract myself from my uterus twisting around, and I’ve been giving it some thought.

A few days ago I saw someone say that older radfems “teach younger women to drink period blood”. I see complains about uterus artwork, about women who use period blood in their wiccan/witchcraft rituals, women being asked not to speak about their periods as women, and of course women describing vulvas as a “nightmare of flesh”. We’re accusing of reducing ourselves to genitalia, of being obsessed with our periods, told that nobody is oppressed because of their menstrual cycle (sometimes, of course, they add “in America”, as if female oppression is something else we’ve outsourced).

My mom told me that, when she was a kid, she didn’t wrap up a tampon enough when she threw it in the trash. Her dad called her in and hit her because “her brothers could have seen”. She tells me that one of the first times she fell in love with my dad was when she found out he kept tampons in his bathroom “just in case”. 

I remember being told that I couldn’t use the bathroom once in middle school, as I had already gone that class. My friend gave me a sweatshirt to tie around my waist after I bled through my pants. 

I remember in gym class, when we went out to run, trying to explain to my male teacher that I couldn’t run because I was on my period. He told me that I didn’t have a sick note and that telling him was inappropriate. I threw up on the track.

When I talk to doctors about my irregular periods, they tell me I must use hormonal birth control. We don’t have any medications that weren’t made to make women sexually available. The “period” you get on birth control is withdrawal from hormones. Nobody tells me for years that hormonal birth control doesn’t mix with mood disorders. Five doctors put me on this routine. Each time I go crazy. When I refuse with the last doctor, tell her I can’t do it again, she tells me to “grow up”.

My period hurts, hurts more than it should, with PCOS. My grandmother had it, had surgery after surgery like many women in her family, to remove ovaries bit by bit. They wouldn’t take them all out at first because, the doctors said, they might want to give birth. My grandmother calls it “her cancer”, because that’s how the doctor described it to her.

I know a woman who passed out in class. The teacher called an ambulance, and when they got there and she woke up she was mortified. She had endometriosis and she was angry that others had seen her in pain. I read later that cramps can be more painful than a heart attack. 

I ask if I can postpone a meeting at a job until the next day. My co-worker asks if I am PMSing because I’ve been so grumpy all day. I go to the restroom and vomit, because the nausea from my period is so awful. I miss days sometimes because I can’t make it out of bed.

So when I see positivity about periods, when I see people trying to make art about this thing we have in common, when I see women talking about ways to make their period more comfortable, when I see the stitched pads they make, when I see people who can view the period as somehow divine, I truly do appreciate it. It isn’t gross, or awful. What’s gross and awful is telling us to be silent, not letting us learn, not making accommodations, the idea that this is a thing that we have to actively hide.

I don’t think those things are “glorifying” periods, but so what if they are? I think that taking something that hurts and making it into something positive and beautiful is incredible. I think that accepting ourselves as we are and finding ways to love that are some of the best things we can do in life.

So, as I lay here, in a lot of pain, I just want to say thanks for all the talk about menstruation. I love your uterus art. I love the things that I’ve learned from women about menstruation–why we have periods and how that relates to our bodies avoiding pregnancy, what normal periods should look like, signs and symptoms of gynecological disorders, and how to use menstrual products that are less toxic to our bodies.

Our periods shouldn’t have a stigma, and we should remember that we aren’t alone. Cheers, and I hope all of you have a great day today :)

First Contact

This is a very hasty opening section to a story I’m going to write about Humans being the weird ones. For the most part, I’m just going to use the concepts I like and leave out the ones I don’t I also refuse to make the aliens talk like fucking morons such as everyone else does. it pisses me off. there is no reason for them to be both polite and also use regular words instead of sounding like they are vomiting a thesaurus. I also used terms like Light Year and Light Minute even though they are subjective terms applicable only to the ear’s solar cycle because it is better than making up terms that have no context but essentially mean the same thing.


Also, I suck at writing so I apologize in advance.


———————————————————————————————————–


It started three hundred million years ago. The Dareth species was spreading across the galaxy. In only a few hundred years, they had completely conquered it, and had devoted their resources to moving beyond to other galaxies. After a few thousand years, they had taken more and more regions, never stopping, declaring all space to belong to them. But finally, in a supreme effort through the combined forces of 538 hundred species, one galaxy worked together to reclaim their systems. After that monumental and unique victory, the other galaxies followed suit and fought to own their systems again. It took nearly 5,000 years, but the efforts of 247 galaxies containing 350 million species drove the Dareth down to a single solar system.  Trillions of lives were lost from all sides, but the megalomaniacal Dareth were nearly destroyed.

Once they had won, the leading species of the revolution held mass executions, reducing the Dareth to a few hundred children, all in their adolescence. Stripping them of all clothes and tools, they were marooned on a hostile planet in a distant galaxy over 50 billion light years away, devoid of life. The planet was carefully chosen, a careful balance of being able to support life, while also being borderline inhospitable. It was filled with dangerous animals, few edible foods, and was plagued with extreme biomes and fluctuating weather.

No one really expected the children to live, but they thought that they would at least offer the chance. Once they were on the planet, deemed “prison 1”, all species immediately broke contact. And after a few hundred years, they also slowly stopped monitoring the Dareth children who miraculously survived. Since they were children, they were mostly uneducated in the ways of production and the manufacturing of advanced technology, so they initially were capable of little more than cave dwelling and hunting with stone weapons. They developed very slowly, and it seemed that no one had to worry about the Dareth again. After several million years, people referred to them mainly as a mythological monster race, no one really believing that the Dareth really ever existed. They faded into obscurity, eventually remembered only in a legend only history fanatics knew of.

Until one day several millions of years later, that is. An expeditionary task force was exploring a barren galaxy, and came across a primitive radio signal. They traced the source to a solar system a few light years away. Upon entry, they must have triggered an ancient outpost; a message appearing on the main screen. The words were incomprehensible, but a translator ran a few algorithms and after several minutes, showed the message in the crew’s native language. Unfortunately, the message was so short that the software could not fully translate the whole message.

W-rn—: You h-ve e-tered – forb-dde- sector. You h-ve f-ve m–utes before –uthor-t-es t-ke –ct-o-. To        -vo-d arrest, e-ther e-ter your p-ss code or le-ve –mmed—tely for your ow- protect-o-.

A count down timer followed the message.  Unfortunately, the software took a few minutes to translate, and by the time it finished, the counter was in the last 30 seconds.

“What language is that?” Admiral Hot’ath asked no one in particular, knowing full well that all known languages (over 2 trillion) were in the ship’s computer and would have identified it within seconds. Typing a search into the fleet’s contact list, he called the head Archivist “I need you to analyze this message.” He ordered, attaching both the original and translated message to a file, sending it to the Archivist. “Tell me if you think it is an ancient language, or a foreign one.” The female only glanced at it before answering.

“Ancient. I can’t read it, but it strongly resembles Standard Intergalactic it is either a more archaic and older form, or a language that coincidentally is similar to our ancient dialect.”

The admiral nodded in understanding. The message was nothing to be concerned over. The solar system was cordoned off so long ago, that everyone had forgotten that it was even there. Thusly, there were no authorities coming to get them, so they had time before deciding whether to leave or not.

“Sir.” The captain of the flagship interrupted. “Even if no one is here, there is a reason this area was blackzoned, and if anyone finds out we were here, legal actions can still be taken against us.”

He nodded knowingly. “Where did this message originate?”

The communication officer answered. “A small outpost on the planet furthest from the system’s star.” The man brought the co-ordinates up on the main bridge screen. The navigation officer quickly followed up with a map of the system, marking where the planet was.

“We can at least go there.” The admiral said firmly. “If nothing else, we can legally go that far and collect data.” The captain nodded, plotting a course on the map and sending it out to the rest of the fleet.

They planned a small expeditionary force to explore the station and gather artifacts and information. What they found astounded them. It turned out that one of the planets in the solar system was an ancient prison of sorts. The records that had survived was enough for a complete translation of the archaic language, but even so, no one knew who these Dareth were, or why they were exiled to such a distant galaxy, barren of life. No one, that is, except the archivists.

The Admiral again called the head archivist, “Proffessor Lart-tch, do you know who the Dareth were?”

Immediately, the blood drained from the archivist’s skin, the grey flesh turning a sickly white. “T-the Dareth?” she affirmed, hoping that she misheard.

The admiral slowly nodded, grimacing. The reaction was enough to let him know that there was in fact a very good reason they were exiled so far away. “I take it they are not good?”

“To put it lightly.” The female answered. “Though the legend is so old, it is probably exaggerated. But we all thought it was just that. A legend. Or more like a horror story.” She added the end with a shudder. Then with a flash of fear, she started. “We came here because we picked up a radio signal.” Her voice was a whisper, cracking with terror. “We need to leave now!”

The admiral was surprised. “Are they really so dangerous? Only a single outpost was here to watch them, and it was peacefully abandoned.”

“This was a race that had conquered over 500 galaxies. Not planets. Not Solar systems. Not Starfields. Galaxies.”

This time, the blood drained from the admiral’s face. The largest empire recorded in history was a single, unified galaxy. Two was unthinkable. But 500? That was terrifying. “You said that the legend is probably exaggerated though.” He tried to assure himself.

The woman nodded, “Yes, but only in the hundreds. There is lots of evidence that at some point in the distant past, some sort of empire had spread across between two and three hundred galaxies. No one is exactly sure how many, but at that scale, even a hundred off is little difference in scale of even the mightiest empire.”

“H-how did we ever defeat such a force?”

The woman merely shrugged. “The legend is vague on that part. But it ends with a few hundred children being left on a hostile planet with nothing to help them survive. They were essentially sent back to the stone age, and were expected to die. But they didn’t. And they will eventually learn how to leave their planet again and return to kill us all.”

The idea was enough to send a cold stab of fear through the Admiral. “We should leave.”

But before he could give any orders, the communication officer called to him from across the bridge. “Sir, we have received a message via the radio waves coming from the planet identified as Prison 1.”

Another cold stab tore through him. “Can we translate it?”

The officer nodded. “it is primitive, but I have made the adjustments to decipher it. It seems that they are repeating the same message over and over.”

“Is there enough to translate?”

“Barely. It is difficult to read, but it boils down to saying, ‘We are here and want to talk.”

The admiral had no clue what to do. If what he was just told was true, then potentially the most dangerous species to ever live was asking making contact with him, the first foreign species they have seen in millions of years.

After several moments, he decided what to do. “Tell them that we are on the edge of a restricted zone and may not come any closer. We also need to leave as soon as possible before we get in trouble.”

He was visibly shaking in fear, and he knew that there would probably be more messages before they were able to leave. There were still units searching the outpost, and it would take around 30 hours before they were recalled, even if they left immediately. They were 327 lightminutes from the Prison Planet, but that still left time for quite a few messages before they were able to leave.

Sooner than expected, another message arrived. “They are asking if they are in the restricted area, and if they will get in trouble as well.”

“N-no. Tell them it does not affect them.” He stammered out. This was getting out of hand. He was neither a military officer, nor a diplomat and this was something that no one in the entire fleet was capable of dealing with.

Again. A reply much sooner than he wanted. “They are asking why the area is restricted.”

This one was surprisingly easy to answer. “Tell them that we don’t know.” He lied

A few hours later, “They want to know what our protocol for First Contact is.”

The answer to that question was drilled into the explorer so hard, that the words came out before he realized that he was speaking. “Observe and learn until they contact us, then send a survey team to the surface to directly learn as much as possible about the new species. Providing any technological knowledge is prohibited until intergalactic diplomats arrive and officially classify the species and permit trade. Ideally, the envoy will make the decision before any contact. In the unavoidable circumstance that contact is made, we are to treat said species as a Class Three.” He finished, then realizing that the Dareth probably didn’t know what planet classes were, he quickly listed, “Class 1: lower intelligent, incapable of societal structure. Class 2: Upper intelligence, incapable of leaving planet. Class 3: Capable of limited space travel. Class 4: Capable of extended space travel under light speed. Class 5: Capable of FTL travel. Class 6: Capable of Intergalactic travel. And the hypothetical Class 7: Capable of instantaneous travel.”

He listed these quickly, momentarily forgetting the insane levels of danger they were in. fortunately, the message came slower than the others. But it still came. “They are asking if contact takes precedence over the blackzone.”

This was the first question that the admiral was completely at a loss for. The majority of blackzones existed because of environmental dangers the others were for military secrecy and they all took up several solar systems. This was by far the smallest blackzone he had ever even heard of and it did not fall under either category.  “T-tell them that….” He started talking, but he couldn’t think of anything. Fortunately, they didn’t wait for a reply. “Sir, they have sent us a file that seems to be a compilation of their history, biology, anatomy, and information of their planet’s wildlife, fauna, geography, and more.”

“A-are you serious?” he blurted out. The officer nodded. They labeled and organized everything for us. There is even information on their technology and mass medical records. They gave us everything.”

“Are there images of them?”

“Yes sir. Also, they call themselves, ‘humans.’”

“Screen.”

A series of pictures flooded the main screen showing hundreds and hundreds of the Dareths. Some were professional, and some were impromptu. They also greatly ranged in age with varying degrees of quality from brown and a little blurry to full spectral and crisp The newest ones even being three dimensional video. They did not look particularly dangerous, though they did have predatory features. They were bipeds with joint articulation and front facing eyes.  It seemed that they had full body skeletons and were mostly hairless, except for their heads and some of their faces. They were also very diverse. Some had pale skin, some were brown, some were yellow tinted, and more.  On top of photographs and videos, the Dareths also included a single diagram of a Human in a circle. It did not take long for the Admiral to understand that it was a mathematical diagram of the Human’s physiology. “Fascinating.” He whispered. But there was one thing above all else that astounded him. The photographs genuinely looked happy. There were pictures of Humans who were angry and sad as well, but for the most part, they all had kind expressions. If they were the Dareths in the legends, then either they had changed, or they were trying to trick him into letting down his guard.

“Sir,” the intelligence officer spoke up. “The planet has an open network database containing the planet’s combined knowledge. We can cross-reference everything they gave us with that system to see if they deliberately left out information or lied.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that we have enough time for that. I want to leave immediately.” Though he was still scared, he did not feel like the Dareths were of any danger or were lying to them. To the communication officer, he ordered. “Record and transmit as follows: Thank you, humans. You have saved us much time and deliberation. With this, we can go back and deliver the information you provided to our government and they will decide what to do next. We are merely an expeditionary unit and have no authority. You have provided us with an easy answer to deal with such an abnormal situation. We will leave as soon as possible and return to our home system without delay.”

When he finished talking, the captain spoke. “Sir, the expeditionary force has returned.”

“Good, we are leaving immediately!” he blurted out.

While the fleet left, they received one last message, “Good bye. We look forward to your return.”

Once they were safely in FTL, he ordered the “human” file to be distributed to all of the ships. In the months it took to return to their home system, everyone had poured over the files and read as much as they could. And frankly, no one knew whether they should be terrified or relieved. By now, the legend of the Dareths had spread throughout the fleet, and despite the history of war and violence that was in the files, there was just as much goodness in them. They seemed to be a fiercely loyal people, extremely innovative, and often benevolent to a fault. This was the trouble. There was no solid trend to determine their species overall personality. Even in war, they would often be kind to their enemies even while they killed them. But when they made an alliance, it was not easily broken; and when they decided to help someone in need, they did everything in their power to do so.

And none of that was even touching their bizarre physiology. They could handle an incredibly wide variety of biomes and conditions, they could survive and recover from what most species would consider life threatening injuries, they ate anything and everything, even if it had no nutritional value or was even dangerous to them. They often underwent drastic changed to their physiology for completely aesthetic reasons. And their medical methods were nothing short from horrific. They actually cut themselves open and put the organs of their dead inside their own bodies and survived. They cut out their organs, and replaced parts of their bodies as though they were machines.

By the time they reached their home, the crew had split in two as to the opinion whether the information they had was true or not. Some said that it made sense for such a domineering race to be capable of such things, while the others insisted that the information was designed to confuse them and make the humans seem stronger than they were. As far as the admiral, he was certain that the information was true. It was all nonchalant, and so strange that it didn’t seem right that the Dareth’s purposefully made it up.

He dutifully handed it over to his superior and up the chain it went. A few weeks later, he was summoned before the King. He knew immediately why. What he didn’t know was if it was a good or bad thing. The escort gave him no time to prepare. They took him from his office to the planetary palace across the continent. He was searched and taken into the throne room, the King and his wife lounging on a large sofa while other nobles of high office lined the room.

Admiral Hot’ath walked forward and knelt before the King and Queen “My liege.”

The king was a large man, but his weight was deceptive, he was an intelligent and cunning man who only appeared to be a lazy slob. So when the King looked down on him with his beautiful wife leaning against him, Hot’ath felt a stab of fear just as powerful as the one he felt facing the Dareth.

“So you are the man who says that there a monsters on the edge of the universe?” the King’s voice was slow and deep, but his tone did not seem mocking.

“Your highness,”

“I kid of course.” The king interrupted, speaking just as slowly. “I have read through all of the reports made on the subject and looked at the Human’s files personally. I understand why so many believe them to be the Dareth’s in the old story, and to be honest, I agree.” His voice gave nothing away, he spoke in nearly a monotone.

Hot’ath relaxed slightly. “I am sure that you know, but I feel that it bears repeating. My fleet did not enter the BlackZone. We remained on the edge and only got so close to explore the outpost, which is not against the law.”

The large king laughed, his bulbous core jiggling as it heaved. “Again, I agree. You have done nothing worth punishment. I have ordered your presence to ask your personal opinion on the information. Do you think that it is reliable, or a Dareth ruse?

After a moment, the admiral replied, “May I speak freely, my liege?”

“I insist it.”

Hot’ath took a breath, “I think that it is all true, my liege.” The crowd around them broke out in a quiet deliberation at his statement. “It is all far too strange to have been made up.” He continued. “I feel like it is subtle and presented as normal. If they were lying, then the lies would have been emphasized and presented as proud aspects of their race. But they record these traits as nothing special. I am certain they would be genuinely surprised if they were to learn about our own physiology and how we are so much weaker compared to them..

The king nodded. “I feel the same. But this is far too dangerous to act one without facts. Tell me why you think they gave the files to us if not for deception.”

“I think that it was an act of trust. I believe that they did so because I was hesitant to go visit their planet. I had told them that they were in a black zone, so they understood that I was not allowed to spend time and wanted to make things easy for me. Also, I do not believe that this was in my report, but my Intelligence officer had access to a global network of their combined knowledge. It was open to everyone. As far as we could tell in the short amount of time we were there, they only provided information that was on the network, that is to say, none of this is a secret to them, and they have no problem with others knowing.”

“That is new information.” The king muttered. “New Knowledge New Light.” The old saying seemed especially applicable here. “I order you to go back. I give you permission to enter the blackzone and go to their planet. Keep at least one ship on the edge out of their range. Under the slightest hint of suspicion, have it leave immediately and return directly to me so we know that they cannot be trusted.

“W-why me?”

“Do not misunderstand. You will have diplomats go with you and a small military escort. But you seem to have earned your rank and are capable of subtle discernment. You will not be doing anything more than your regular job, just with the added knowledge that everything could be a lie. I merely need you to let us know if that is the case.

anonymous asked:

imo, the fact that louis is stuck is why harry has this kind of leeway. or the other way around. no matter. it's just sad for the both of them, and esp louis whose team does not care about him, but just the stunts around him. in this lt001, i'll just blast the music, so the others would just be background noise.

Eh, I don’t agree with your first sentence. Harry has ALWAYS been able to play fast and loose with ambiguous quotes about his sexuality, gay innuendo, eccentric and feminine fashion choices, and so on…and actually, his allowance for that has increased over time. In direct contrast, Louis has been allowed to venture into those things less and less as the years have passed. I think the difference lies not in how their teams are playing off each other (I don’t think Harry is able to have more “gay” interviews because of Louis’ ironclad closet), but in how their own respective closets have always been different from one another. Harry was cemented as a womanizer so early on that he’s able to put minimal effort into reinforcing his closet because other people do the work for him. As we saw today, he can act gay as fuck and there will still be a huge defense squad claiming that he’s straight, claiming that he’s just joking around, claiming that he’s a huge advocate for the LGBTQ+ community and that’s all it is, claiming that he’s a true man in touch with his feminine side, claiming that he’s a straight man who’s not afraid to have fun and reject stereotypes, etc.

With Louis……it’s never ever been like that. He was super flamboyant and read as gay automatically to SO MANY PEOPLE back in the day, and over time, they’ve attempted to extinguish so many aspects of his true identity or shove them behind closed doors, and it continues to this day. People rave about so many of Harry’s photoshoots and fashion choices, and while I don’t think Louis would make the same choices in most cases because he’s his own person with his own distinct personality and fashion sense, when people try to make comparisons or act like Harry and Louis are so different because of the images they portray to the public, sometimes I just want to be like……do you guys really not realize that Louis would NEVER in a million years be allowed to do anything that veers even slightly from the hypermasculine, laddy, I’m-all-about-my-girl image they’ve been fine-tuning for years? Louis would NEVER be allowed to wear the clothing that Harry wore in Another Man or even Rolling Stone. Louis would NEVER be allowed to reject a model and get turned on by a man in an interview and then chuckle about it with the gay radio host and his stylist. His closet is so different from Harry’s, and it’s been that way for a long fucking time. And I’m not minimizing what Harry’s been through - his closet is less strict now, sure, but he’s been through some serious shit and what the media and fans do to him on a near daily basis with their het fantasies and linking him with every woman on the planet….it’s disgusting. But I feel like for a fandom that talks endlessly about how terrible their closets are, a lot of people don’t realize how much they’ve all bought the distinct images of both Harry and Louis in certain ways, despite the fact that both are at best, somewhat, and at worst, completely dictated by how different their closets are and always have been.

With Louis, it’s not just about the baby, or Eleanor. It’s everything. It’s years and years worth of publicly erasing his genuine self and making him little more than a shell of masculinity supported by his fake baby and fake girlfriend, with a career and family life and friendships and charity work and personality that always, always, always come second to everything straight about him. With the Observer, I had so much hope that this promo would show more of HIM, who he actually is, a dynamic and fascinating and lovely person, but then I see how things are going, and I look at how differently some things have gone for Harry, and then I realize that this is just going to be more of the same for Louis. And I don’t understand why and I don’t think I ever will, but it’s terrible to watch. It’s sad and so frustrating, but I won’t stop wanting better for him anytime soon.

after midnight

“You’re my best friend.”

Part I / Part II
Pairing: Shawn Mendes x female character
Rating: Mature
Words: 3126

A/N: This is loosely based on some lines in Blink-182’s song After Midnight, and you should listen to it bc it’s a great tune. I started this ages ago and forgot about it and when I found it I loved it. I also snuck in requests - 3 from this and 79 and 148 from this. I hope you like it ^^


His hands are under her thighs, keeping her close, and her chest is pushed against him, her arms around his neck. Shawn walks lazily through the dark, moving carefully so as to not let her fall.

“You know, I wouldn’t do this if you weren’t my best friend,” Shawn slurs.

“I know,” she grins and turns her head on his shoulder to place a messy kiss on his cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Shawn sighs, pushing up on his toes with force so that she moves higher up on his back, then stalks on slowly along the trail.

“You wouldn’t have had to. This is your fault by the way, you had it coming,” she accuses.

“How is it my fault?” His head snaps to the side and he stumbles, almost falling, but his hand takes hold of a low branch just in time.

“Well, you decided it was a good idea to take a shortcut through the woods while we’re both drunk this late at night and I’m wearing heels that are higher than Wendy was when we left, so it’s only fair you help me out by not letting me trip and die.”

Shawn laughs at her dramatic wording of the situation. “But you had fun though, didn’t you?”

“Loved it! Birthday girl is as alive as the night. You used to have a crush on her, right? Didn’t you get her number before? You never told me how that went.”

“We did talk, but we just stayed friends because she’s been with her girlfriend for years,” Shawn says, chuckling.

“Oh, that explains it. Girls are either blind or gay if they pass on you, because you’re a catch and you’re hot. I think you’re like, really hot.”

Shawn stops walking and turns his head to look at her. This isn’t something she would have said had she not been drinking earlier. He likes to think that their friendship is strong because of the way it has so many sides; they crack jokes at each other’s expense, and they bicker like an old married couple, but they also understand each other like one would their soulmate. They can read one another with a single glance, and they’re always there when the other needs them. They casually tell each other ‘love ya’ when they hang up the phone or when they text goodnight, but platonic is the word he would use to describe them. They’ve even given each other pep talks in order to boost their egos in preparation for first dates. This however, is nothing like that platonic love. These are uninhibited words, an honest thought, because she would never admit to finding him attractive like this.  

As if she’s realised what she just said, she clears her throat and brings her hands to his shoulders and loosens the grip of her thighs around him. “I think I can walk now.”

Shawn bends his knees to let her down and he realises that she must have been lying because she steadies herself on every other tree that they pass. They walk the rest of the trail in silence, which isn’t unusual for them when they’re alone together; they can spend hours sitting next to each other without speaking while he plays video games and she reads a book with her legs across his thighs. But this stillness is a shy lack of words that are replaced by the buzzing of bugs and an owl hooting somewhere among the trees.

A while later, they arrive at the edge of the forest and then they stagger through a suburb he’s not sure he recognises, but the houses look similar to the ones in his area so they keep going until he feels dizzy, the last of the consumed alcohol getting to him. They sit down on the sidewalk in front of somebody’s garage for a while as she rubs his shoulders and back as he fights the nausea.

“I swear, if you throw up…”

“It would be pretty embarrassing for me to puke on Craig’s driveway,” Shawn says.

“That’s his house?” She turns to the garden and recognises the place. “Then by all means, go right ahead. He was such a dick after the breakup. He deserves some vomit on his lawn.”

“Nope,” Shawn replies, slowly standing up. “I think I’m good now.” He starts to walk and she drunkenly waddles behind him.

They’ve gotten themselves deeper in the area when their roles flip, and she’s the drunker one as Shawn starts to sober up, and she seems to have gained a sudden adrenaline rush.

“Did you have one of the brownies?” Shawn asks.

“No, but I was there when they were smoking,” she giggles with a grin on her face.

“You are so high,” he teases.

“Who cares?! Carpe noctem!” she yells into the night, then turns and starts to walk in reverse.

“What does that mean?” Shawn laughs, affected by her contagious bliss.

“It’s like carpe diem, except, you know, night,” she smirks at him and shrugs, then turns around to skip ahead.

“Let’s carpe this frickin’ noctem!”

She looks so alive in that moment, with a big smile plastered on her face and her arms spread out as she runs. Shawn thinks that there is nothing else he would be doing than following her down this street right now and he feels his chest fill with a strange feeling he doesn’t quite get. He follows her and wraps his arms around her waist, spinning her around him. She shrieks and squiggles free of his grip before turning to him. Giggling, she pokes the end of his nose with her fingertip before running off again. 

Shawn catches up to her and slows her down with a hand on her shoulder then hooks his arm around hers for good measure, because the alcohol and the marijuana has definitely gotten to her, and the last thing they need is for her to run into a street lamp and come home bruised.

They wander around for what feels like ages, their slightly drunken state paired with their carelessness doing nothing to help, but Shawn realises a while later that the street signs are no longer blurry. He’s unsure of where exactly they are relative to his place so he tries to remember how the streets are placed, but his mind still feels a little groggy. They follow a curve of streetlamps, and after a while he understands that they’ve been walking in circles.

“Are we lost or do you know where we are?”

“I’m not so sure anymore…” Shawn trails off, slowly spinning around to have a look at their surroundings.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid,” he defends. He spots another street sign that he recognises and finally, he figures it out. “Come here, I think I know where to go now.”

He decides that walking down a straight road is a much better idea and it takes them another twenty minutes that feel more like an hour, but soon enough they’re in front of Shawn’s backyard, slowly opening the gate and sneaking in like thieves.

“Home at last,” he sighs in relief.

“It wouldn’t have taken so long if we hadn’t gotten lost,” she mutters.

“I’ve taken that shortcut a thousand times, and that’s never happened to me,” he defends.

“Have you ever taken it after drinking?”

“You make a fair point.” Shawn shrugs, and his eyes fall upon the dark window of his sister’s room. “We have to be quiet,” he says, holding a finger in front of his mouth. “I think they’re asleep.”

“I’m not gonna have any problems being quiet, you’re the one with long, clumsy legs. And your balance is shit when you’re drunk,” she taunts.

“For your information, I have sobered up quite a bit. See,” he says, lifting one leg behind him as he leans forward with his arms spread out, but he puts his foot back down when he wavers.

“By the looks of your balance and your face you haven’t.”

“My face?” He asks, his fingers automatically going up to his cheek.

“You blush after two beers.”

“I do not.”

She pulls out her phone and quickly snaps a picture of him with the flash on, and he’s momentarily blinded when the light hits his face. When he blinks his eyes open he sees the picture of himself, eyelids tightly shut, nose scrunched up, and yes, cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink.

“Shit.”

“Damn right,” she says. “Let’s get inside now, I’m fucking freezing.”

“No, wait, I just had the best idea!” he grins. “What if we get in the jacuzzi?”

“Shawn, it’s two am.”

“You were the one who said ‘carpe noctem’. Are you too chicken to follow through?”

“No, but I didn’t bring extra underwear,” she whines.

“We can just get in naked!” He grins, an excited look on his face. “I promise to let you borrow my clothes,” he bribes.

She squints thoughtfully. “Fine. But if I’m going commando, so are you.”

“Deal.”

She undresses and gets into the water first as he turns away, and then he makes her cover her eyes as he sheds his clothes. He carefully dips his feet into the water first, then sinks into the welcoming heat.

“You can open your eyes now,” he says.

“It’s not like I needed to close them anyway, it’s pitch black. I can hardly see you.”

“Can you see me now?” Shawn asks as he moves closer until he’s sitting right next to her.

“Yes, your cheeks are like a neon sign,” she chuckles.

“Fuck off,” he laughs. “As much as a dick you are, this is nice. Let’s  make this a tradition. Every time we come to my place drunk, we get in the tub.”

“Are you serious?” She laughs. “What about during winter?”

“Right…” Shawn mumbles and thinks it over for a second. “Quickie. We just get in and get out.”

“Alright, but we get hot chocolate after.” She smiles at him quickly before her face falls. “I just realised that we’re gonna freeze our asses off when we get out of the tub. Can we just stay here forever?”

“I don’t think my parents would be too happy to find us naked in the morning.”

“Your parents,” she groans. “We have to get out.”

“But it’s so cold. Think we can just live with the embarrassment tomorrow?”

She deadpans. “I’ll bake you a cake if you get us towels,” she offers, her face now sporting a sweet smile.

Shawn makes his second agreement for the night, negotiating his way to a two tier cake with muffins on the side, even though he knows she would have baked for him anyways, then runs inside, knowing full well that she has a good view of his arse and will most likely tease him about it later. Shuffling through a cabinet in the bathroom, he finds two large towels and hurries back outside. When he returns with one of the towels hanging from his hips, she’s sitting on the edge of the tub with her back turned to him, arms twisted around her bare body. Her shivering figure is a pitiful sight, so he walks up from behind and wraps the other towel around her.

She flinches at the unsuspected contact, but relaxes when she sees it’s him. “Thanks,” she says, pulling the towel tighter against her. “I got it, you can let go now,” she says, looking up at his eyes when he doesn’t remove his arms.

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” He swallows and takes a couple of steps back, giving her some space.


Shawn passes her a t-shirt and steps into a pair of sweatpants himself while she pulls his shirt over her head, then slides in under the big blanket next to her, sighing at the comfort of his own bed.

“I love your pillows. They’re so big,” she says, shoving her cheek into one of them as she hugs another.

“Are you still drunk?”

She reminds him of his cat when she was still a kitten, how she would fall asleep curled into her own body, and he thinks that she looks pretty damn cute the way she resembles the feline, wrapped in his blanket and surrounded by pillows.

“No, ‘m sober, I swear,” she mumbles.

“Good, then I don’t have to take care of your drunk ass.” Shawn tugs the pillow that’s in her arms and places it beneath his head, smirking when he sees her appalled expression.

“That’s not fair, I’m freezing and it was keeping me warm,” she says, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

“I need a pillow too,” he says. “But I can cuddle you, I’m warm.”

She places her palm hesitantly on his bare chest, then grins. “Oh my God, you are a furnace. Please hold me,” she pleads although he has already offered to, removing the barrier between them and shuffling closer.

Shawn voluntarily wraps his arms around her and she snuggles into him as he quickly rubs his hand against her back to generate heat. He inhales the smell of her shampoo, a floral scent he can’t quite place, and that strange feeling that he still doesn’t understand comes back. He feels his heart beat faster and he wonders if she realises, because lying in bed like this with her, this close, reminds him of the first time he had a boy in his bed. It reminds him of how he felt when the boy had placed his fingers on Shawn’s cheek and gently kissed him, how they had slowly explored each other with nervous hands. But he shouldn’t be feeling this way, and he definitely shouldn’t be thinking of kissing her because the person he’s holding is his best friend.

She hums and he is pulled back from his thoughts. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s the Canadian in me,” he chuckles.

“Uh, not technically, because you don’t have Canadian genes,” she says.

“I keep forgetting that. Well, then evolution has just done a great job with me. I’m also supposedly really hot.”

She chuckles, slapping his chest with her palm gently, and the quiet returns, but this time it’s nice. They don’t need to fill the empty air with small talk; they’re comfortable like this. Along with the comfort comes the thought of a them in Shawn’s mind.

“Did you know that I had a crush on you when we were twelve?” Shawn doesn’t know where the first words to break the silence come from, but they slip past his lips before he can stop himself.

“What?!” She moves abruptly, resting on her forearms as she faces him.

“Yeah. It wasn’t as much of a crush as I thought you were cute, but I also kinda wanted to kiss you, if that makes sense?”

“That sounds like a crush to me,” she laughs. She smiles above him, and Shawn think he sees a faint blush on her cheeks but tells himself he’s imagining things, but then she speaks, “I thought you were cute, too. I mean, I still think you’re cute. Now you’re my best friend.”

He grins, scanning her face for any message, but she just has a faint smile on her lips. Then he notices how her eyes move down, and he wonders, this is when he’s supposed to kiss her, right? That’s how she’d instructed him when he was nervous for his first kiss. He remembers how she had held his face between her hands, whispered against his lips, telling him how to make it better by going slow, and how she had pulled back just before their lips touched. She had told him that girls had a look on their face when they wanted a boy to kiss them, and he was almost certain that this was that look. Hell, he had kissed plenty of girls since, but this is his favourite person, and this means so much more.

He’s hesitant, but he recognises the movement of her eyes and how she licks her lips, and he knows. He lifts his head the slightest bit when she moves hers lower. Shawn thinks everything has stopped, his heart, time, the air around them; everything feels still. Then he realises how absurd the situation is, and he bursts into laughter.

She places her hand over his mouth, attempting to silence him while she giggles into his chest. He makes a strained noise under her hand, and licks her palm when she doesn’t remove it.

“Ew! Why would you do that?!” She wipes her palm against his stomach, and her hand lingers there for a second, and then her eyes look down to his exposed abdomen. “Shut up,” she mutters, when she sees the smirk on his face.

They lie like that for a while, quiet, close to each other, and grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re my best friend,” he says.

Then he moves closer again. She mirrors his movement, tilting her head slightly to the side. Their lips are nearly touching when he pauses, because he has to ask.

“Promise we’ll be okay after?” Shawn whispers the words, terrified of what they mean and what the impending kiss could mean.

“I promise,” she whispers just as quietly. Then she leans in until their lips are touching.

The kiss is sweet, innocent, and gently lingering. But then Shawn’s fingers move to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and his fingertips brush her neck when he retracts his hand, but her neck feels like a good place for his fingers to be so he rests them there and slowly strokes the skin. She gasps at the feeling, and her mouth falls open, and then the kiss becomes kisses and they become fast and sloppy until sounds can be heard between their mouths. They pull away for a second to catch their breaths, but immediately resume. Shawn’s hand crawls up her back between the shirt and her flesh, and he rubs her back soothingly.

“Mm, too much tongue,” she mumbles against his lips.

Shawn pulls back, offended. “Too much teeth,” he counters.

“Sorry, I’ll be nice,” she laughs, delivering a gentle peck on his mouth.

Her lips are soft against his, and she just feels so nice, and Shawn thinks that he wouldn’t mind doing this more often.

“I think I like kissing you,” he mumbles.

“I think I like kissing you too,” she replies.

They kiss again for a while, slowly this time, until they stop because Shawn almost dozes off. So they hold each other close with loose grips and gentle hands and talk about everything but the kiss, because they don’t need to.

I started thinking about how it must be for Gil, sitting in engineering, knowing Ryder is out there fighting and constantly in danger. No wonder Gil has been known to work on the ship for days at a time without sleeping. He can’t do anything for his boyfriend while he’s out in the field so Gil’s gonna make damn sure the ship and all their equipment will never let him down. 

  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she means: jughead knew, he knew that FP wouldn't get better after a month, or even a year, and still he told his dad that he believed him and that he'd go live with him. he knew that it wasn't the best situation to put himself in and that even being homeless is better than this, but he agreed to go anyway because it would break his father's heart if he said no. this boy cares so much. he knows he's going to be let down but this is his Dad dammit and he can't help it but to care this much and bless those 30 seconds of clarity FP had to let jughead go with the andrews, it was probably the best thing he's done in a long time for a son that he honestly doesn't deserve, a son that is too good and too pure and what are you talking about i'm not crying, you're crying!

Context:  the party (a were-cat rogue named Socks, a tiefling fighter named Tinawamach, a half-dragon half-ghaele named Nik, an aasimar wizard named Hypatia, a cat-spirit named Kitsume, and a wild elf wizard named Aramil) is in a battle against 2 human zombies, a troglodyte, a wolf skeleton, and an owlbear skeleton.  One of the human zombies has already died, and each of our wizards have used one offensive spell.

Tinawamach (OOC): [to Hypatia (OOC)] You should seduce the human zombie!

Hypatia (OOC): I need to save my spells so I might!

It reaches Hypatia’s turn.

Hypatia: I seduce the zombie!

DM: Roll a charisma check

Hypatia: [succeeds] Well hi there, sugar!  I’m sure you don’t wanna be attackin’ us! [bats eyelashes]

DM:  It moves closer to your face but it is not trying to attack you

Hypatia:  Well don’t you have a pretty…eye

DM:  Roll to see if you are sickened

Hypatia: [fails, vomits] It’s not you sugar…it’s…it’s me…

A round or so passes and Hypatia is no longer sickened.

DM:  Hypatia, the zombie’s jaw falls off but it is still looking at you with one bedroom eye

Hypatia (OOC): [starts playing Careless Whisper]

Kitsume: I try to get the zombie away from Hypatia [succeeds]

Hypatia: [pulls out her dagger] I am gonna stab my beau! [misses]

Socks: I am going to convince the zombie that if it dies, Hypatia will love it [29 with bonuses]

Hypatia: we’ll do this Romeo and Juliet way!  You go first

Zombie: [shoves its head into the dagger]

Heart on the Line (part 14)

Masterlist

You and Bucky had your differences in college, but now you need a place to stay and he needs a roommate, and in order to make ends meet, you two start a phone sex line together.  

“For a Good Time, Call…” AU


author: sugardaddytonystark (formerly buckysbackpackbuckle)
pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
word count: 1267
author’s note: I have a 3K+ Thor fic that’s almost done, so I decided to do something fun! Let’s see if this chapter can get 300 notes, and if/when it does then I’ll post it!

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when i think about bpd from a medical standpoint and read articles and research about it, intense emotions and mood swings are always defined. you go from extreme sadness to extreme elation. you get very angry very quickly. you feel easily disheartened. it’s absolutely right but the problem i have with it is

i never know what the FUCK i’m feeling

i definitely have a physical ache in my chest but is that sadness?? i feel the adrenaline in my veins so i guess i’m mad?? why do i feel like vomiting?? is this an emotion?? is this just one emotion?? what the hell is going on??