i wonder what they were for

guess who

based on this trainwreck of a twitter thread.  Some baseless season 5 spec.

Bellamy strained against his bonds when the door opened and a guard shoved a small, bound form forward.  The Eligius crew had been keeping him in one of their– apparently many– prison cells on the ship, and he didn’t know if that meant the other cells were all full, or if they just didn’t give a shit about putting more than one prisoner together.

The door slammed shut and Bellamy squinted at the new prisoner.  She threw herself against the door and began hammering at it with her fists and shouting, demanding to be let out.  She was young, far younger than anyone he’d seen on the ship, and for a moment he wondered if she was a plant, there to trap him into something.  Into what, he couldn’t figure, since he was currently chained to a wall already, but the something about her clothes gave him pause.

They were colorful.  He hadn’t seen any colors other than black or grey on the miners, and all of their clothing bore the hallmarks of repurposed uniforms, either prisoner or guard.  But this girl was wearing things that had been scavenged.

She was a grounder.

That meant there were survivors.

“Hey,” he called, and she whirled around, seeing him for the first time.  “I won’t hurt you,” he said, and held up his chained hands.

She eyed him warily and stayed as far from him as humanly possible.  “Who are you?” she asked.

“Their prisoner.  And if you are too, then maybe we’re on the same side.”   This girl was too old to have been born after Praimfaya, he realized.  He fought against the tiny spark of hope in his chest.  Just because she survived doesn’t mean Clarke did.  She was probably sheltered from the blast; Clarke was caught out in it.  “I’m Bellamy.  What’s your name?”

Something like a smile flickered across her face. “Madi.  I’ve heard of you, you know.”

That familiar pang of guilt twanged in his stomach.  He’d never outrun what he did with Pike, even after the world burned to the ground. “Whatever you heard, I won’t hurt you,” he assured her.  “I’ve got people on the outside and they’ll be coming for me.  We just need to be ready.”

Her eyes flickered at the mention of the others, but Bellamy didn’t have time to ponder the meaning of that. He talked her through his plan and she nodded along, even offering to pretend to be injured so it would bring a guard running.  He just had to hope that Echo had rallied the others for a rescue attempt and sat back to wait and listen for the sounds of it.

He was about to ask Madi to tell him how she’d survived– he wanted to know who else they would be dealing with– but a loud explosion rocked the ship.  He motioned for Madi to be silent and when he could make out the sounds of fighting, he turned to her.  “It’s my people.  We need them to know where we are.”

She nodded and immediately started whacking her handcuffs against the door. Smart girl, he thought to himself and slammed his chains against the metal pipe.  He shouted, over and over again, and so did Madi, until someone outside yelled for them to back away from the door.  Madi ran to him and he just had enough time to throw his body over hers when the door blew open and Raven stepped in with a pleased grin on her face, half hidden by the helmet she was wearing.  “Miss me, Blake?”

“Cute,” he replied sardonically, picking himself and Madi up off the ground.  “Got anything for these?” he asked and held up his chains.

“Looks like you found a kid,” Raven observed and pulled out a portable blowtorch.  She had him free of his chains in seconds and Madi just a moment later.  “I’m Raven,” she said, and Madi rubbed her wrists gratefully.  Raven handed Bellamy another helmet and he put it on, bringing the blast shield down to cover his face.

“I know,” Madi said, but before Bellamy could wonder how she knew Raven, another explosion shook the ship.

“That’ll be Echo, and that’s our cue to go.  Murphy’s holding the corner.  Can you run, kid?”

“I can,” Madi said proudly.

“Then run like hell and don’t stop until you get to the woods.  The rest of our people are there.  They might be spooked by you, but they won’t hurt a kid, I promise.”

“I know,” Madi said again.  “She said–”

“Raven, now,” Murphy bellowed from down the hall. Bellamy grabbed Madi’s hand and started running, catching a gun Murphy tossed him as they sprinted past.

“Keep going!” he yelled at Madi and crouched down behind a pillar to lay down cover fire.  Madi ran, zig-zagging to make herself a more difficult target, and Bellamy waited until Raven and Murphy had passed him to pick up and start running again.

He made it to the woods just a second before Echo, and everyone started to sprint back to the rocket.  But after a quarter mile at a dead run, they were lagging– real gravity was more tiring than generated gravity– and Madi took a sharp left.  “This way!” she called over her shoulder.  “You’ll be safe over here.”

Echo and Raven looked to him and he made a split second decision to trust this girl and whoever raised her.  He nodded and everyone fell into pace behind Madi, hurtling through the woods as the sounds of the Eligius pursuit faded away.  They slowed their pace slightly and the trees started clearing.  Madi looked back at him, a huge smile on her face.  “She’s going to be so excited to see you,” she said, and bolted across the meadow to a small, blue hut.  “Clarke!” she yelled, and Bellamy’s heart stopped.

His feet stopped too, and everyone behind him drew up short.  A compact blonde woman burst out of the hut barely two yards away, gun drawn.  She looked like the Clarke he remembered with small changes– shorter hair, leaner muscles– and Bellamy blinked rapidly.  She was dead.  She was dead, but she’s standing right there.  “It’s me, and look who I found,” Madi said, and Clarke lifted her gun to aim at the rest of them.  They were wearing helmets, he remembered through his shock, and she couldn’t see their faces.  

But Raven beat him to it and tossed her helmet aside.  Clarke stared at Raven’s face in disbelief.  “It’s us, Clarke,” Raven said, gently.

Clarke slowly lowered her gun and stepped forward. She touched Raven’s cheek like she was seeing if she was real, and Raven lowered her forehead to press against Clarke’s.  Clarke took a shaky breath and straightened, her eyes scanning the rest of the group only to stop on him.  “Bellamy?” she whispered, and he dropped his gun and pulled off his helmet.  A slow smile spread across her face at the sight of him, and it felt like seeing a sunrise for the first time.  

Bellamy didn’t remember moving and didn’t remember Clarke taking a step, but somehow she was in his arms.  She buried her face in his neck and he tucked his nose into her hair, squeezing her so tightly he was sure she couldn’t breathe but he couldn’t let go, not for anything.  He felt her heart thumping against his and his brain finally realized that this was real and not some cruel trick.  He blinked, not realizing he’d been crying, and Clarke pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.  She was crying too, her cheeks wet, and she wiped away a tear from his cheekbone with her thumb.  “Took you long enough,” she chided, half-laughing, half-crying.

“You know me, princess,” he said thickly.  “I like to make an entrance.”

Huntress in the Castle: Part One

This is a very special story to me I wanted to share with all of you. I’ve been working on it for a long time  and I’ve been too nervous to share it. I think now is the right time.

           Once upon a  time, my Granny told me my fate rested in the forest. It was where I would find an evil meant for me. Now, every family had a different story they told their wee ones on why they should never ever go into the forest. Unlike those tales though, my Granny’s story turned out to be true. My Granny, you see, was an oracle. She could see into the future. She could see the things that other people couldn’t.

           She told me, many a time, that I should never ever go into the woods, that was until I turned seventeen. She would tell me, “then, and only then will you be ready for what the forest holds. Because it is there, my precious child, that your destiny lies.” She smiled comfortingly, her gold tooth glinting in the light of the fire.

Keep reading

me: I can watch dirk gently and not get attached to stuff

also me: thinks about the shark kitten every day, genuinely misses dirk’s season 1 jackets (specifically yellow and green jacket), assigns feelings to todd’s poncho ™ from 2.01, cries when anyone mentions the mexican funeral shirt given to dirk because blackwing took it and it was the last thing he had from todd and also it probably smelled like him, wonders at random moments what happened in the back of the jeep that todd and dirk took when they were finding all the parts to patrick spring’s time machine

History | Part 2 | Tommy Shelby

That night you sat in the spot that Tommy had been slouched in when you walked into the room. It was still warm from his body and the fire beside you flushed your cheeks red raw the longer waited.

You always believed you had the measure of Tommy Shelby. That because you had watched him grow, from both being by his side and then the sidelines, it had allowed you a different perspective. There were many that’d underestimated him and you had always made a conscious effort to keep up with his intentions. However, his final words had caught you off guard and you blamed yourself for not seeing it before now.

Eventually, you fell asleep after running through the conversation and picking it apart and wondering if Tommy was testing you. As much as you bitched about the family, they were family and you would remain loyal to them no matter the cost to yourself. Tommy knew that. Your lips had been sealed all this time, after all.

Keep reading

I flounced over onto my side.

He knew how to live outdoors. He’d spent seven years in a cave, for heaven’s sake! 

In Scotland, said my imagination, cynically. Where the biggest carnivore is a wildcat the size of a house cat. Where the biggest human threat was English soldiers. 

“Fiddlesticks!” I said, and rolled onto my back. “He’s a grown man and he’s armed to the teeth and he certainly knows what to do if it’s snowing!” 

What would he do? I wondered. Find or make shelter, I supposed. I recalled the crude lean-to he’d built for us when we first camped on the ridge, and felt a little reassured. 

If he hadn’t hurt himself, he probably wouldn’t freeze to death. If he hadn’t hurt himself. If something else hadn’t hurt him. The bears were presumably fat and fast asleep, but the wolves still hunted in winter, and the catamounts; I recalled the one I had met by the stream, and shivered in spite of the feather bed. 

I rolled onto my stomach, the quilts drawn up around my shoulders. It was warm in the cabin, warmer in the bed, but my hands and feet were still icy. I longed for Jamie, in a visceral way that had nothing to do with thought or reason. To be alone with Jamie was bliss, adventure, and absorption. To be alone without him was … to be alone. 

I could hear the whisper of snow against the oiled hide that covered the window near my head. If it kept up, his tracks would be covered by morning. And if anything had happened to him … 

I flung back the quilts and got up. I dressed quickly, without thinking too much about what I was doing; I’d thought too much already. I put on my woolen cutty sark for insulation beneath my buckskins, and two pairs of stockings. I thanked God that my boots were freshly greased with otter fat; they smelt very fishy, but would keep the damp out for a good while. 

He had taken the hatchet; I had to split another piece of fat pine with a mallet and wedge, cursing my slowness as I did so. Having now decided on action, every small delay seemed an unbearable irritation. The long-grained wood split easily, though; I had five decent faggots, four of which I bound with a leather strap. I thrust the end of the fifth deep into the smoky embers of the fire, and waited till the end was well caught. 

Then I tied a small medicine bag about my waist, checked to be sure I had the pouch of flints and kindling, put on my cloak, took up my bundle and my torch, and set out into the falling snow.

Drums of Autumn


Okay, so. Recently, I’ve been seeing a lot of Alec appreciation posts. Gifs and fics and fanart. And I have no problem with that whatsoever. Alec is a great character, he deserves appreciation!

But it got me thinking.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Magnus appreciation week, or a Magnus appreciation event of some sort. I’ve seen Malec weeks, or Magnus themed days in Alec/Malec appreciation events, but never a week just for Magnus. 

So I started to search. And after extensive googling and searching tumblr… I found nothing. There were several Malec weeks, and even more Alec appreciation events, but none for Magnus.

And I thought to myself: what the fuck?

And again, I love Alec. I really do. But why does Alec get several months’ worth of appreciation while Magnus didn’t even get a day outside of when he’s acknowledged as Alec’s love interest? 

Magnus is a wonderful, interesting character who deserves a week of his own. So I was like, damn. I’m going to organize a Magnus appreciation week. But then I thought… considering Alec has had several months’ worth… why not make up for some lost time? 

So next month, with the help of my good friend @magnuscaresalot, I will be organizing a Magnus Appreciation Month. There will be a prompt for each day, starting on December 1st and going all the way to December 31st. 

The master list of all the prompts will be posted on November 30th so there’s plenty of time to get ready, although every Friday I’ll post that week’s prompts again as a reminder, along with any updates that might come along.

We’ve created a blog for this, @magnusappreciation2kforever, where the prompts themselves and the rules will be posted, as well as, hopefully, where we can reblog some of the things people post!

It’d be great if you could reblog this post to spread the news and get as many people as possible to participate. 

We’re looking forward to December, and to hopefully seeing the things people create!

Seasonal Sadness.....

Yep….it’s that time of year.

The time when everybody is all giddy and happy, singing carols, going shopping, laughing and I’m sitting here wondering “What the hell is wrong with me that I just want to hide under my covers till it’s over?”

Every year since I was a child, I always felt this way during pretty much any holiday but birthdays and Christmas were the absolute worst!

Then one day after I became an adult?  I stopped beating myself up over it.  So, I’m a Grinch and become very anti-social this time of year?  Big f*cking deal!  It’s my quirk and if others can’t handle it?  That’s their problem, not mine.

  • I can’t help that the sun disappearing for days on end makes me sad.
  • I can’t help that seeing people spending insane amounts of money on things I don’t like or don’t want upsets me because I’d rather they gave that money to somebody truly in need.

  • I can’t help that I value actions over material things this time of year.  

That’s just who I am and if others can’t handle it?  Then avoid me at all costs, trust me….I won’t mind as I settle down under my covers with my hot cocoa (and big giant fluffy marshmallows), my husband, son, and dog on the couch and watch Charlie Brown (who truly gets my mood this time of year).

I’m not posting this to get pity or whatever, I’ve already said that I own my quirk.  

I’m posting this for YOU GUYS!

Those who feel the same way I do.

Those who think something is wrong with them because they are lacking that “holiday spirit” and “holiday joy” and really just want to shove that damn bell down Santa’s throat (stop ringing it at me!).

  • It’s OK to be different and want something more than just “things” for Christmas. 
  • It’s OK to feel a little down this time of year (however, deep depression…please go see a professional, OK?)

Pro Tip:  Get yourself a light therapy energy light or go for long walks during the winter, it does wonders to improve your mood.  Also…..avoid those damn bell ringers and carolers at all cost!


Frankie: I have to do this for him, no matter what I’m feeling. Losing him would mean that I’m actually alone. I don’t want to be alone.

Frankie: Hello! Mrs. Mariner, this is Franklin Greene; an applicant for the journalist position.

Mrs. Mariner: Why hello Mr. Greene! How’re you? I was looking forward to your call.

Frankie: I’m doing well, I was wondering if we could set up that interview we were discussing, preferably as soon as possible.

Mrs. Mariner: As a matter of fact, I have opening at 11 a.m. tomorrow, will that work for you?

Frankie: Of course, I look forward to it. Have a nice afternoon!

Mrs. Mariner: You as well, Mr. Greene.

anonymous asked:

I have a Regis fic in the works right now (see: almost finished) and I was wondering if I could tag you in it? I'm not Tumblr famous or know anyone really but am excited to get my stuff out there. Wanna let people know there is some daddy Regis coming (no pun intended. Heh Heh..) and you were the first person I thought of. 😊

DADDEH REGIS!!! Sign me up love 💜 As for being Tumblr famous to post work- eh, tbh follower count and notes don’t matter at all- as long as you are having fun and writing the content you wanna write then that is what matters 💜 I’m so glad you are excited to post your work!!! Definitely tag me, and maybe send me a link too so it doesn’t get eaten up in my notifications while I’m at work? 😇

nobodyknowswhy31  asked:

Hi! I was wondering if you could do some prompts for a brainwashed city but there is a rebellion trying to stop whoever is in power. Thanks

1. “It’s not right, and it’s not fair. People were created with free-will for a reason. We’re not going to let anybody take that away from anyone!” 

2. “Our ability for free thought is part of what makes us human. Thinking for ourselves is part of being alive. If we don’t have that, we might as well just be robots.” 

3. “We’re never going to stop fighting! As long as they don’t have the choice to fight, we’ll be fighting for them!” 

4.  “It’s bad enough to take away someones freedom, but that wasn’t enough for you. You had to go and completely destroy the idea and meaning of it.” 

Hope you like them,

anonymous asked:

Hi! I absolutely love your blog, and every October/November I get super excited because my dash is just filled with glorious murder-horses. I was just wondering what you thought were the origins for the capail usice? I like to think the Mares of Diomedes somehow found their way from Greece to British Isles/Thisby (maybe in search of cooler water) and stayed there. Then bam, our water loving, man-eating capail usice are born. So what would your take on their origin be?

Ah, thank you friend! October/November is a glorious time for our fandom, isn’t it? :)

Oh, I love your take on the capaill uisce’s origins! I came across this interesting blog post about reading The Scorpio Races through the lens of classical antiquity, which you might find relevant to your interests! 

I’m so fascinated by mythology, and there’s such an interesting collision of Celtic and Greco-Roman mythologies. The Romans adopted Epona, the mare goddess, as one of their own. There’s the hippocampus mosaic at Bath, which I’ve had the pleasure of seeing in person. And then there’s the Pictish Beast, though it isn’t clear whether or not it was influenced by the hippocampus or if it predated it. Could the Romans have brought water horses to Britain?

Celtic mythology is filled with water horse mythology too, i.e. the kelpie, the each-uisge, the cabbyl-ushtey, the Ceffyl Dŵr, Morvarc'h, etc., which are probably related to the Scandinavian bäckahäst and the Germanic neck (Thanks, Wikipedia!). In Irish mythology, Manannán mac Lir, the sea god, had a horse named Enbarr, who could travel across both land and sea (incidentally, I like to think that Manannán mac Lir could be the “forgotten ocean god” that Sean describes as being depicted in Malvern’s stables; the capaill uisce could belong to him, and they were either gifted to humans or they were stolen by them).

Anyway, there are water horse mythologies from all over the world, but there definitely seems to be a concentration of them near the British Isles. On Thisby, Sean says, it is “because we love them,” and I think there’s something really beautiful about that. It’s sobering to think that the capaill uisce could have lived all over the world, only to disappear or die out, and that only Thisby loved them enough to give them a home and let them keep it.

anonymous asked:

Iruka wants to find a way to make kakashi talk about himself

Iruka looked over at the jonin sitting next to him at the dinner counter. This was their third date, maybe, not that they called them that. It was sort of confusing really. Kakashi wasn’t the kind to do the whole “bare your soul” thing but when Iruka had confessed his feelings went beyond friendship Kakashi didn’t shy away. He actually started asking him to go places, and would get all awkward when they parted at the end of their outing. So here they were.

Iruka wanted him to say something about what exactly this was. What they were doing.

He looked back at the meal they were sharing, wondering what to do.

“Not hungry, Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi asked lightly.

“Not really,” Iruka shared.

“If you’re not feeling well I can walk you home,” Kakashi offered before hearing his own words. “Not that I’m looking for an excuse to.”

Iruka smiled at that. Kakashi would get awkward and flustered when conversations got too suggestive. Maybe Iruka would have to flirt information out of him.

Not that he was well practiced in it, but it was worth a try.

“You can walk me home, Kakashi-san, but it’s not because I’m not feeling well.”

“O-oh. Should we split the bill then or-”

“I’ll pay,” Iruka said before he could finish. “You can make it up to me later.”

Iruka left the money on the counter and they both said their thanks before leaving.

“I should have asked if you were even hungry before taking you to dinner,” Kakashi said, rubbing the back of his hair. “I’m sorry, sensei.”

“No, Kakashi-san,” Iruka argued lightly. “I just want to spend time with you in a less public place.”

Was that too much? Was it enough? Oh sweet diety he was making a fool of himself wasn’t he?

Kakashi cleared his throat and touched the edge of his mask. It was hard to tell but he could have been blushing. “You could have just said that at the start.”

“Really? Isn’t there supposed to be an order to all this,” he pointed purposefully.

“Is there?” Kakashi asked back. “I wouldn’t really know.”

Iruka felt like he was getting somewhere. This was the most Kakashi had ever said about them.

“You mean Icha Icha isn’t a reliable source?” Iruka joked.

“There’s only one kind of relationship in those books,“ Kakashi corrected plainly, as if Iruka should have guessed that.

What did that mean? Iruka wanted to sceam. Instead he asked, “So there’s something you’re not an expert in?”

“I don’t claim to be an expert at anything,” Kakashi shrugged easily.

Iruka was losing him. He needed the upper hand again. “I think I can help you then.” This was going to be what killed him, he thought as he saw his door getting closer. “There might be a few lessons but you seem like a fast learner.”

Kakashi looked a little confused but he was deffinetly blusing his ear gave him away. “You want me to become an expert at relationships?”

“So you admit this is a relationship!” Iruka shouted, hand leaving the door handle to point at the jonin.

“Yeah,” Kakashi nodded after a small pause of thinking it over.

Iruka grinned and reached back to open his door. “Good. That’s all I wanted to hear.” He turned around to go inside.

“Wait- What was- You were just messing with me?” Kakashi asked, understandably a little upset.

“Oh no,” Iruka shook his head, still grinning. “I meant you can be an expert on me.”

The visible part of Kakashi’s face was turning red. Iruka tried not to laugh.


Do you ever wonder what the world would be like if you were a tree? Just standing there, soaking up sun. Watching the world whizz by in a blur. Being a rope and swing for children, having people climb up to your branches, having birds peck at you.

Seeing so much history and a lot of stories, but no one would ever hear you tell them. That’s why you should hug a tree. They can’t hug back, but we can give them some support for what they do.

anonymous asked:

Hey, just wondering what the new virgin draco fic will be hashtagged under? (is hashtagged even a word?? I have no idea) but I am so excited for this next book and I just wanted to say thank you both so so so much for writing this fic, I LOVE IT!

There are two #s one being #knocked up, the other being #the marrieds.

I think.

@bixgirl1 what were they again? 👀

Last year Gold tickets for the Vancouver convention were sold out by Oct 14 after going on sale in Sep. I still have the emails from Creation, the on sale email was sent Sep 21, although I think that was a few days after tickets were actually available to buy on the website.

This year tickets for 2018 went on sale at the end of Aug, it’s now Nov 22 and there are 97 Gold tickets still available by my count. 

Gee, I wonder what was different about the 2017 con? Oh, right…

Originally posted by clintashugh

(Plus Bex and Emilie) 

Colin may have been the one with the broken foot last year, but I think this year Creation has shot themselves in theirs with their decisions.

anonymous asked:

I was just poking around a night sky app of mine and found the constellation Eridanus, which is where the 40 Eridani system is located. Guess what the constellation is of. A RIVER. GG Star Trek, putting your *desert planet* right in the middle of a cosmic river.

HAHA! What great cosmic irony!! I have no idea what to do with this information, but I’m so grateful you shared it with me! I wonder if it was intentional? If so, that means there were some MAJOR nerds writing for Star Trek (big surprise, right?) and if not it’s still hilarious.

walkthegale  asked:

identity ask meme: 2, 8, 29?

thank you! (identity ask meme)

2. have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?

@shinewithalltheuntold is the other half of my brain. She’s the angst-ridden half and I’m the fluffy half. Other than that, we think very very similarly with writing. When I tell her an idea she gets it and makes it better.

@holdouttrout also just hangs out with me and talks fic in a wonderful way that’s amazing, so Fish gets a hug for being awesome. 

8. what musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime?

Vivaldi, because his music has some musical chaos and a lot of precision. Presto from Summer is my favorite when I have to do something difficult. Sara Barailles, as Uncharted is just…my life in song form. Smetana has this piece, Ma Vlast around there’s a bit around 5 minutes in that I just love. Tan Dun, especially the Hero soundtrack, is another thing I listen to when I’m lost, because it makes me feel grounded. 

Also, John Murphy’s Sunshine, that piece just gets to my soul. 

29. three songs that you connect with right now.

Hmm, feel like I kind of had some above, but….picking three. Depends on what I’m writing. Today it’s this slightly angsty- @wapwani style story so it needs reserved things. 

Light of the Seven by Ramin Djawadi

This star trek medley put together by the Danish Symphony is just awesome and I love it. 

I always listen to Cora’s Waltz when I write her. It helps.