i know its creepy


the new snapchat update lets any of your snapchat friends see where you are on a map!!! apart from being really creepy,, this is unsafe especially if you don’t want people you’re snapchat friends with knowing where you are down to the EXACT location (ppl dealing w/ abusive ex’s, sex workers, etc)

I can see myself in my kitchen and my friend at work on the map its v accurate make sure you set your status to ghost mode


our tiny smol has arrived at the jungle 😣💓💓💓

Lance Headcanon #439

Since selfies are no longer a thing lance just screams until someone hears him and comes rushing in to help only to find lance posing and saying “check me out in this lighting i look fantastic”


pretty odd + subtitles

anonymous asked:

Helloooo. 1. Do you run the ScientificPokedex blog? and 2. Do you think there could be an actual scientific explanation for Zoroark's illusion ability?

 Hellooo! Number 1, No I do not run the @scientificpokedex blog but they do an amazing job, big props to them!

Number 2. Hmm that’s tricky, so we want a real life example of an animal convincing another animal that it is something it’s not, so not clever camouflage and accurate visual mimicry, as with a stick insect for example, but rather where one animal has been tricked, it is under the illusion that another animal is something it is blatantly not. Well then, we need to talk about

  p h e r o m o n e s 

alrighty, so pheromones are defined as a chemical secreted by an organism that triggers a social/behavioural response in another organism, usually of the same species. They are used everywhere in nature, from tiny single celled prokaryotes up to big lumbering mammals such as ourselves. Uses of pheromones include territory marking, avoidance of inbreeding with close relatives, alarm signals, and advertising sexual availability and fertility. Specialised pheromones called ‘necromones’, released by the decomposing bodies of certain animals, repel living animals of the same species so that they don’t go near the bodies and potentially catch the disease that killed the dead dude. 

Those are just a few of the uses nifty chemicals, but as usual insects one up other animal groups in the diversity of ways in which they use them. The highly sophisticated and complex societies of eusocial hymenoptera (bees, ants, and wasps) are only possible through the use of pheromones, for example from coordinating colony activities e.g. defending the colony from predators, to exchanging information,  allocating tasks to different castes, social policing, regulating reproduction, and the use of trail pheromones, e.g. when ants lay a path of pheromones towards a food source, and then lay over a repellant pheromone over that trail, cancelling the message once the food source is gone. 

Because these social insects are so reliant on pheromones, they are ripe for abuse from other animals who can exploit their chemical society, and this is how I am going to lead it back to Zoroark. 

Meet Phengaris alcon, or the Alcon Large Blue butterfly

 Yes a very pretty looking butterfly, but don’t let appearances fool you. It’s caterpillars hatch on leaves like regular caterpillars, and stay there for a few weeks, munching away and growing, but after a certain point, they just drop off the leaves and onto the ground. There they release a pheromone which smells exactly like the pheromone released by the larvae of certain ant species. When these ants come across the caterpillars, they are fooled into thinking that these caterpillars are indeed their own larvae, despite being a different colour and much bigger than the ant larvae, i.e. they look completely different. 

The ants bring the caterpillars back to their nest, where they clean, feed, look after and protect the caterpillars, sometimes even at the expense of their own larvae when food is short. The caterpillars feed and grow in a safe environment, eventually metamorphosing into a chrysalis, then into an adult butterfly, where they then crawl out of the nest scot-free and begin life in the skies, having had a great start in life all down to some smelly trickery and illusion. 

(see below, Phenagris chrysalises next to ant larvae, with the ants none the wiser!)

Other Phenagris species will mimic the Queen ant rather than the larvae, and thus get a more royal treatment (though the true queen is never convinced so this is a more risky strategy), or some instead of just getting fed by the ants like a cuckoo will ravage and eat all the ant larvae when it gets in the nest, without retribution by the ants. 

(this video is fantastic and shows the whole lifecycle, plus a bonus pheromone related plot twist near the end!)

Basically using pheromones in this manner is a way of mimicking something you’re not despite looking nothing like your subject. The ants are under the complete illusion that these huge caterpillars are their own tiny young, despite input from other senses. So… what I am saying is that perhaps Zorua and Zoruark are very proficient chemical mimics and can emit strong pheromones that convince you that you are seeing a different pokémon than what’s standing in front of you. Maybe that, mixed with a hallucinogenic compound, neurotoxin, or other mind altering druggy substance (heck even laughing gas lol) to make you more suggestive. I dunno, it’s a huge stretch, but it’s an excuse to talk about Phenagris lol

Originally posted by axew

Welp. We went to see Wonder Woman. I cried during the sad parts and some of the other parts. They were the same kind of tears I had on and off through Ghostbusters. Movies with strong women who are fully realized people who are allowed to be sexual but are not sexualized and can also kick ass just make me cry randomly. Though TBH I also cry in LotR when anyone picks up their sword and runs into battle screaming the name of their home. I didn’t even realize how ravenous I was for a female version of that.


nine in the afternoon // panic! at the disco

something that always struck me as odd about the prequels is how palpatine was able to forge a relationship with anakin in the first place.

this is definitely my biggest problem with the jedi, in relation to anakin: they let palpatine, a middle aged man, get anakin, a child, alone. the fact that palpatine’s even insistent on it at all should be ringing alarm bells. there should be Stranger Danger warnings going off, people! you’re dropping the ball, men!

and i understand that, according to the comics, palpatine threw his political weight around, saying that the senate has total control over the jedi. that you can’t deny the chancellor. but that’s incorrect - the republic is corrupt, but it’s not a dictatorship yet. as anakin’s legal guardians, the council has the full right to refuse palpatine access to anakin - it doesn’t matter who’s knocking at your door, you’re supposed to protect your charge. 

but the jedi handed him over. the second palpatine pressed, they folded; and no one tried to curb anakin’s interaction with palpatine, even though it should be clear that an old man wanting to talk with a minor day after day after day is suspicious. especially since the jedi were suspicious of palpatine anyway

You were late.

It was beginning to weigh heavily on Optimus’ processor.  He pulled up his internal HUD and saw that it was already past midnight.  Your movie should have ended by now.  That’s what the running time had said when he googled it anyway.  He let out a small huff of frustration, as he continued to wait in the parking lot in his alt mode.

He didn’t have to wait long before he watched you walk out of the brightly lit theater surrounded by a group of people your age - all laughing at some joke he was too far away to catch.  Optimus felt something dark and jealous flare up inside him.  He had no idea who these people were.  Why hadn’t you mentioned any of them to him before?  And more importantly, what gave them the right to touch you like they were doing now?  He watched as one of the people in your group draped an arm around your shoulder, resisting the urge to transform and squash the little brazen pest then and there.

“Hey, y/n,” one of them called, snapping Optimus out of his murderous reveries.  “You want us to give you a ride home?”

“No thanks!  I can walk.  It’s not that far,” you replied cheerfully, waving to them as you made your way along the well lit side walk.  

Optimus turned his engine on as silently as he could and followed.  It wasn’t an easy feat to remain unnoticed, given his immense size, but then again, he had had a lot of practice following you around these past few weeks.  He tried to tell himself it was merely out of concern for your safety, but he knew himself too well.  He followed your every movement with his gaze, reveling in your unconsciously graceful movements, the soft bounce of your hair as you walked, the seductive sway of your hips…

He was so lost in his fantasies, that he didn’t notice the garbage can in his way until it was too late.  He swore violently under his breath as the cursed metal can toppled over, producing a large, cacophonous bang, and causing you to turn around with a start.  Your expression changed to one of confusion as you took in the sight of the familiar red and blue semi.

“Optimus?” you asked hesitantly.

He paused for a moment before letting out a mumbled “Hello,y/n…”

“What are you doing here?” you asked bewildered.  Your eyes suddenly narrowed as you shot him a somewhat wary glance.  “Were you… were you following me?”

Optimus hesitated as he ran over his options in his mind.  He silently cursed the fact that he had never been a good liar.  He was good at hiding things, certainly.  Well, maybe not now, but he wagered there were a good many things he did that you were still blissfully unaware of.  

“I came out here to find you,” he said finally.  Technically it wasn’t a lie.  “Agent Fowler just dropped some things off for you to sign that I think you ought to take a look at.”  Also technically not a lie, but not necessarily urgent enough to warrant a late night visit.

“Well, do you have them with you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.  Your only answer was an awkward silence and the sound of his idling engine.  You groaned.  “Optimus, it’s twelve thirty at night on a Friday!  I want to go to bed.”

“You could always sleep at the base,” Optimus offered in what he hoped was a casual tone of voice.  “Your room is still all made up from the last time.”  He could sense your hesitation as you thought it over.  “It’ll be like a sleepover,” he prodded.  “I’ll even hook up that star projector that you’re so fond of.”

He watched in triumph as your face slowly bloomed into a smile.  “Okay, deal,” you replied.

“Excellent,” he purred, opening his passenger side door for you to slide in.

“Mmmm, I’m pretty sleepy already,” you muttered weakly as you pressed your body against his seats, lulled by the movement of his cab as he trailed along the dusty road towards base, and the soft, gentle music drifting through his speakers.

“Why don’t you go ahead and sleep then?” he said in a low, hypnotic rumble.  “I’ll look after you.”

“But the papers…” you whispered even as the sudden influx of warm air through his AC unit pulled you farther away from consciousness.

“They’ll still be there when you wake up,” he said with a soft smile in his voice.  There was a soft sounding click as his locks clicked into place.  “But for now, sleep,” he purred as your eyes finally fluttered closed.  

He arrived at the base only a few short minutes later, pulling around back to the large empty hangar area.  You were still sleeping peacefully inside his cab, preventing him from shifting out of alt mode.  Not that he minded, however.  You were there, and that was all that mattered.  

Optimus switched his optical output to inside his cab, allowing himself to see you for the first time since you had entered.  Primus, but you were a lovely sight when you were asleep.  So peaceful and innocent, with your hair swept gently across your forehead.  He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to touch you.  To brush the hair from your eyes.  To place soft, open mouthed kisses along your delicate neck.  To cradle you in his hands as he stroked over every inch of skin until you were a whimpering, writhing mess.

His cooling fans kicked in, reminding him of his current predicament.  He forced himself to calm down, to push those sorts of thoughts from his mind.  The last thing he wanted was for you to wake up, not when he was enjoying watching you so much.  He settled for turning up his air units slightly, causing the hair covering your forehead to be swept back.  You shifted and mumbled something incoherent in your sleep.  Optimus smiled inwardly.

“Sleep well, my dearest,” he purred affectionately through his speakers.


Alright we are almost at the end of @daisugaweek2017 so I decided to write another long one. I really had no idea what to do with Day 6: Old/ New, so I decided to vague the hell out of the theme and just write whatever the crap I wanted. Ayyyyooo. Deal with it.

Warning: fun language

Also, sorry it’s so long. The “read under the cut” thing is still not working for me for some lame reason. (CURSE YOU TUMBLR.) I promise I’ll stop spamming everyone eventually.

“Fine! I’ll just find a new job!” Daichi stumbled down the uncharacteristically empty street of Kabukichou, cradling a bottle of whiskey in one arm. “I didn’t need that shitty job anyway,” he slurred to himself, lifting the bottle to his lips. “I’ll find a better job. A job with parties and sex and… and liquor! Yeah, that’s it… I’ll be a bartender!” he thrust the whiskey into the air, turning his face to the soft night rain. For a moment he staggered blindly, closing his eyes against the cool pattering of the rain. He welcomed the cleanse of what felt like more than just his face and hair.

After the scene he had caused back at his office following the news that he was being demoted, Daichi needed a good cleanse. He needed to cleanse his body and soul- but mostly his memory- of the image of him hurling his phone at his boss, calling him a corrupt, ass licking, nut sucking pig, and pushing the desk over before storming out of the building in an expletive flinging huff.

I don’t fuckin’ need them anyway.

His toe caught on a raised piece of street and he lurched forward, eyes popping open once more. His gaze fell on the crumpled form huddled on the far side of the sidewalk, in between a trash can and the wall of a love hotel. He knew what it was the instant it caught his attention.

“Oh fuck. A dead body.”

Daichi glanced down the street. He could keep walking. He could pretend he saw nothing, go home, drink some water, fall asleep, and forget all about this tomorrow morning. After all, none of the scarce late night roamers seemed to have noticed Daichi or the body. He could just ignore it.

But Daichi had always been a bit of a boy scout.

And his pride as a good man prevented him from just turning the other direction and feigning ignorance.

He let out a low groan and stumbled towards the body.

“Hey,” he called. “You ‘live?” As he moved closer and closer and the body came more into focus, Daichi realized that it was too small to be the adult he had thought it to be. 

Daichi might’ve thrown up at the horror of finding the dead body of a child on the filthy streets of Tokyo’s least savory neighborhood, but rather than vomit leaving his lips, a breath of relief passed them by at the sight of a set of unfeeling, brown eyes staring directly up at him.

Oh thank god, he’s alive.

Daichi froze and stared down at the young boy that couldn’t be any older than four or five years old. He wore a ragged pair of jeans and a torn and filthy t-shirt, both drenched from the rain. He was barefoot, shivering as he hugged his knees to his chest. Atop his head was a flat mop of unruly grey hair, and nestled in the corner of one of the bags hanging below his dead eyes was a small beauty mark.

He was thin and filthy and holy shit Daichi just found a random kid on the streets, what should he do?

Daichi looked left and right frantically.

“H-hello?” he called. “You left your kid here… uhm… hello? Is someone missing a kid?”

But the street around him was empty, save for a small group of laughing drunks standing out in front of a club boasting nude girls inside.

As far as good, trustworthy adults went, Daichi was the only one in sight.

“Fuck,” he muttered and then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Uhh… uhh… I mean heck!” he rubbed his temples stressfully, nearly pouring whiskey down the front of his jacket. “Fuck— ah, heck,” he quickly screwed the lid back onto the bottle and set it aside. He shook his jacket off of his arms and stepped close to the young boy.

“Hey,” he said in a voice he hoped sounded soothing. “Hi. Don’t be afraid. My name is Daichi. Err… Sawamura-san. Are you lost?”

The boy eyed him dully for a long second, gaze drifting slowly across his appearance.

“Can you understand me?” he asked again. “Do… do you understand Japanese? Uhm… how about, English?” He spoke in disjointed English, “Hello, do you— need help?” and then winced at how stupid he sounded. He should have paid better attention during English lessons back in school.

The child didn’t react to either language, merely staring lifelessly up at Daichi, blinking lethargically.

“Where’s your Mommy and Daddy?” Daichi asked in a slow voice.

But he still didn’t reply. He sat quietly, getting drenched by the rain, shivering against the cold.

“Ah fu-heck,” Daichi glanced around again. “Okay… let’s get you to the police station,” he held his jacket out and settled it down around the boy’s shoulders. He then scooped him up into his arms and straightened. The boy placed hands on his shoulders and leaned back, holding him in his emotionless stare.

Daichi turned in a slow circle, “Okay uhm… where’s the police station…” He wracked his mind but couldn’t seem to recall the directions to anything other than the bar he had been previously drinking at and his apartment. “Okay, no problem,” he held the boy with one arm and thrust the other hand into the pocket of his suit pants. “I’ll just call the police…” he pulled his hand out, empty. “That’s weird…” he switched arms around the boy and checked his other pocket, just to come back with the same result.

“Where’s my…” he paused. “Oh… that’s right.” He pursed his lips. He had thrown his cell phone at his corrupt pig of a boss.

Ex Boss. 

He looked to the boy, who continued to stare at him stiffly, hands pressed against his shoulders.

And really, what else could he do?

He smiled warmly at the child and put his other arm around him, holding him securely against his chest.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You can stay with me for the night. We’ll find your mommy and daddy in the morning when I can think straight.”

Daichi knew it was a bad idea.

A random drunk taking a small, unknown child home with him?

He probably looked like some kind of child predator.

But it was the only solution his drunk mind could think of at such short notice. Besides, it was still steadily raining and the kid would die if he didn’t get him out of the cold and into some dry clothes. And he couldn’t rely on someone else finding and taking care of him. Not in this neighborhood.

So regardless of whether he looked like a creepy pedophile or not, there was no way Daichi was leaving him out on the street.

“It’s okay,” Daichi spoke- rather rambled- soothingly the entire walk home while the boy continued to stare wordlessly at him. When he made it back to his tiny apartment, he thought once more about how this was the worst terrible decision he had ever made in his life and tomorrow morning the police were going to barge into his room and arrest him, branding him a child predator for the rest of his sorry, stupid life.

But at least if he was in prison, he wouldn’t have to worry about looking for a new job. And at least the kid would be safe, warm, and fed.

That’s all that really mattered, right?

“Here we are,” Daichi closed the door behind him as he carried the boy into his apartment. “Home sweet home!”

The boy finally dragged his eyes from Daichi’s face and glanced around the entrance of the apartment. Daichi kicked his shoes off and then set the child down on his bare feet, removing the suit jacket from his shoulders.

“It’s not much,” Daichi continued, hanging the jacket on the hook next to the door. “But it’s warm. And it’s cozy. And it’s home.” He reached out and took his hand, “C’mon, I’ll run you a warm bath and make you some food.” He led him down the hall to the bathroom and filled the tub with warm water.

“Wait here,” he said, turning for the door. “I’ll get you something to wear.” Daichi left the bathroom and let out a deep breath.

He was so fucked. If Asahi saw him now…

“What else am I supposed to do?” Daichi let out a low whine and stomped childishly to his bedroom. “Just let him freeze to death or be the prey of an actual child predator?” he went to his closet and sifted through the clothes, searching for something the boy wouldn’t be absolutely drowning in. “He’s such a cute kid! There’s no way he could survive out there! There was nothing else I could do. I did the right thing,” he nodded stubbornly and grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of exercise shorts.

He went back to the bathroom to find that the kid had already climbed into the tub, his filthy clothes crumpled on the floor beside it. He moved his hand slowly through the water, staring at it with wide eyes.

“How’s the temperature?” Daichi asked, setting the fresh clothes on the sink counter. “Is it too hot? Too cold?”

The boy glanced at him but then looked back to his hands, running them reverently through the liquid, as if he had never seen such a thing before in his life.

“There’s soap and shampoo you can use,” Daichi pointed at the bottles sitting on the edge of the tub. The boy looked at them, turned to Daichi, and then faced the bottles once more.

Daichi watched him for a moment as he hesitantly reached out to the shampoo and poked it. He poked the soap next and looked to Daichi.

“Do you not know how to wash?” Daichi lifted an eyebrow. “How old are you?” he walked up and knelt beside the tub. “Okay. See this bottle?” he lifted the soap. “Soap. You use it to wash your body,” he popped the cap and took the boy’s hand, holding it out. He poured a small amount into his palm and set the bottle aside. “Just rub it all over,” he feigned washing his chest.

The boy looked at the soap warily, suspicious eyes flicking back up into his face.

“Listen, Kid. I’m already on the fast track to being deemed a child molester. I’m not washing your body for you.”

He cocked his head to the side questioningly.

Daichi sighed, “Okay, forget the soap then,” he rinsed the soap from his hand and then grabbed the shampoo bottle. “I’ll wash your hair for you.” He squirted a dollop of the shampoo into his hand and then gestured at him, “Turn around.”

The boy did as he asked, leaning his back against the side of the tub. Daichi scowled and lathered the shampoo in his unruly grey hair.

“When we find your mom tomorrow, I’m gonna give her a good lecture about teaching you not to trust people so easily. You’re lucky I’m a good guy, but what if some creep had found you before I did?” He let out a huff and massaged his fingers over the boy’s scalp gently. “Really, it’s bad enough that she lost you. And in such a fuckin’— ah, heckin’ bad neighborhood. Just what the fuck— shit, no I mean heck, ah god damn it, fuck. No.” He paused, pressing his forearm to his eyes momentarily. “When we find your parents, please don’t repeat any of this shit— junk that I’m saying.” He continued scrubbing his hair, “I already look like a pedophile. I don’t also need to add general bad influence to my record.”

He finished washing and then rinsed the boy’s hair.

“Alright, let’s dry you off and get you something to eat,” Daichi stood and grabbed a fluffy grey towel. The boy stood and climbed out of the tub and Daichi wrapped the towel around him. “Dry, dry, dry,” he sang as he rubbed his hair and shoulders. He released him, allowing him to dry the rest of his body as he turned to the clothes.

He lifted the shorts, “Alright, here you go. They’re gonna be like hakama on you, but it’ll have to do,” he knelt and held the shorts out. The boy stepped into them and Daichi pulled the drawstrings as tight as they would go and tied them off.

“And your shirt,” he lifted the t-shirt, “It’s going to be like a dress on you. But it’ll have to do.”

The boy dropped the towel to the side and held his arms out. Daichi’s eyes fell on a large, black bruise covering his left ribs. His mouth went dry and he swallowed, looking back into the boy’s face. He stared at him, emotionless, waiting patiently for him to pull the shirt over his head.

Daichi inhaled deeply and slid the shirt over his head and shoulders, pulling his arms through the sleeves.

“Alright,” he stood and turned away. “Let’s get you some food,” he dragged his fingers through his hair stressfully as he led the way down the hall to the kitchen.

Fuck. Fuck.

What’s that?

Where did he get that?

Did his parents do that?

Is he a runaway?

Daichi stressed quietly as he gathered ingredients for a meal from the cupboards and refrigerator. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t hand a kid that was obviously abused back over to the parents that might have been the ones to do it. What’s more, they’d probably just pin the blame on Daichi anyway.

He was a drunk, twenty-five year old man who had spent the past several hours of the night slumming it in the raunchiest neighborhood in the city.

Just who were the police going to believe?

He was so fucked.

“Tomorrow’s Daichi will figure it out,” he mumbled as he cooked. “Sober Daichi is much smarter than drunk Daichi. He’ll know what to do.”

He put together a simple meal and then sat on the other side of the table and watched the boy eat it. His eyes were wide as he hungrily scooped spoonful after spoonful of the food into his mouth, barely sparing the time to chew and swallow before stuffing another bite in.

“Slow down,” Daichi said. “You’re going to choke.”

The boy ignored him, sucking down a long gulp from his water.

“Jeez,” he muttered, leaning his chin in the palm of his hand. “It’s like you’ve never eaten before in your life.”

Physical abuse and neglect?



When the boy finished, Daichi set his dishes in the sink and led him to the bedroom.

“Alright, you take the futon,” he said, fluffing the pillows and blankets. “I’ll sleep right here on the floor so when the police barge into my apartment tomorrow, I’ll look less like a pedophile. Ah, maybe I should sleep in the kitchen… nah, it gets cold in there.”

He patted the futon and looked up at the boy, “Here you go. Get in.”

The boy followed his instruction and Daichi tucked him in gently, pulling the blanket up to his chin and patting his stomach.

“There you go,” he said with a warm smile. “If you get cold, just steal my blanket, okay?”

The boy blinked up at him wordlessly.

Daichi stretched out on the floor next to the futon, letting out a tired groan. The exhaustion was finally taking hold of his already foggy, intoxicated mind.

He let out a loud yawn and stared up at the ceiling, “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Tomorrow, we’ll figure it all out.” His mind drifted to the bruise covering the boy’s side and dread filled his stomach. “It’s okay,” he said again. “Sober Daichi will know what to do.” He let out a laugh, “Who knows, maybe I’ll just have to be your new Daddy.” His eyes slid closed and he hummed, “I guess that means I’ll need to find a new job…”

His brain was shutting down, going to sleep for the night, when he heard soft rustling from the futon. And then Daichi’s blanket lifted and a small, warm body slid close and snuggled against his side. The boy rested his head on Daichi’s shoulder, thin arm wrapping tightly around his stomach.

Daichi’s heart twisted painfully and he put an arm around him.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled. “I’ll protect you.”

Is what he thought. And he sincerely believed those words as he fell asleep, swearing that in the morning he’d know exactly what to do.

To protect this child.

To keep him safe from whatever it was that haunted him.

However, reality just wasn’t as simple as Daichi’s drunken daydreams.

He had been so positive that he’d know exactly what to do the instant he opened his eyes that morning. But any confidence he may have had the night before was blown completely away the instant he awoke to find a grown ass adult man cuddled into his side, one hand tucked underneath Daichi’s shirt, fingers spread over his abdomen.

For long seconds Daichi stared down at the head of unruly grey hair resting on his chest. 

That head was much larger than the one Daichi had shampooed just a few hours prior.




Daichi let out a cry and sat up hurriedly, spilling the man to the floor beside him.

“What the fuck?” Daichi scampered backwards and pressed his back to the wall of his bedroom. The man groaned and rubbed his head. He rolled over and leveled Daichi with a brown-eyed stare. The eyes were the same as the ones that had drilled holes into Daichi’s soul last night, but rather than that dull, lifeless look, they were warm, curious.

“Wh-who are you?” Daichi demanded. His head pounded with a dull ache and his stomach twisted nauseously at his sudden movement. “Wh-why are you in my apartment?”

The man sat up and looked around the room, smiling affectionately.

“It’s not much,” he said in a light voice. His eyes slid over a bookshelf in the corner, “But it’s warm. And it’s cozy. And it’s home.”

Daichi blinked at him in surprise.

“Home sweet home,” he chuckled softly and faced Daichi, corners of his eyes crinkled tenderly.

He crawled on all fours in Daichi’s direction and Daichi noted that he was wearing his t-shirt and shorts, still too large, but no longer a dress and hakama.

“Wh-who are you?” Daichi repeated.

“Suga,” he answered simply.

Daichi leaned away as he drew nearer.

“What… what are you…”

The man put his hands on Daichi’s knees and pushed them down to the floor. He climbed onto his lap and straddled his hips, placing his arms around his shoulders.

“Why do you look so shocked?” he asked softly. “Didn’t you say you’d be my new Daddy?” his fingers curled in the hair at the back of Daichi’s neck.


He hummed and slid a finger along the line of Daichi’s jaw, “That’s what you said last night, wasn’t it?”

Daichi gulped, eyes falling on the beauty mark in the corner of his left eye.


No fucking way.

“What are you?” he whispered.

The man smiled, eyes glittering with amusement, “Your new job.”

Daichi’s eyes widened.

He leaned forward until their noses touched, “You’ll do it, right? You’ll protect me?”

Daichi’s stomach dropped.

Well… on the bright side, he wasn’t going to be hauled off to prison and convicted as a child predator.

The man trailed his fingers reverently through Daichi’s hair, scrutinizing his face closely with wide, feeling eyes.

A shudder passed through Daichi’s body and he slumped back against the wall, breathing out a soft,

What the fuck.

The man straightened, eyes lighting up.

“I think you mean heck.”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the apartment like the peals of Daichi’s funeral bells.

And he was so hecked.

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                                              | ankou!france x ghost!england |

anonymous asked:

not to sound creepy but i like it when you mention your mom bc even though i've never met her, based on the small things you tell us about her, she holds a warm place in my mind. like a very caring and supportive figure who's joy bring you joy. she seems like a one in a million person you'd be lucky to run into

my mom’s the strongest person i know and i’m extremely grateful i can call her my mom. she’s someone who has taught—and continues to teach—me how to overcome my fears and struggles, to realize that i am more than enough just the way i am, to be kind and open-minded about everything and everyone, to have faith and believe in the purity and goodness of humanity, and most importantly to take care of and love myself.

my mom has always been so patient with me and genuinely loves me no matter what, from my hellish worst days to the days i cook and bake for her birthday. she’s kept all of my kindergarten clay pots, first grade drawings, middle school letters, high school bracelets solely bc i made them with her in mind. she kakao talks me every morning so i can start off the day brightly, in-between sporadically to check if i’ve eaten, and every night to make sure i’ve gotten home safe.

my mom’s my inspiration and drive to do well and live happily in life. she’s been my support system since day one. and she’s probably subconsciously the reason why i could never hurt myself enough mentally and emotionally or contemplate suicide any further bc i could never leave her to deal with that kind of pain. she’s already lived through so much from such an early age and she had to conquer all those obstacles alone. but she did. and that’s all that truly matters in the end.

i only wish i could be a better daughter, someone who treats her a lot better than i do. my mom knows i love her and she knows i care, but i want to try harder everyday to show my appreciation bc i don’t think i could ever repay her for all of the things she so selflessly has and continues to do for me and our family.


What a thought, though. What if it had been just Sam? Is it so weird that he might ‘pop out of Hell wrong’, after his stint in the Cage? (6x06)