it barely has a name

2

Matsunami Yuuki (Sarukui) and his dog Meru-kun!  

Apparently Meru-kun is a 1-yr old dog, and his left leg will be fully healed in another 2 months or so.

anonymous asked:

Could you maybe post a pic of Wes in cas with short hair?

i’ll do you one better..

anonymous asked:

yuuri is a witch in training and viktor is a prince!

guys. which one of you failed to inform me that yesterday was @beanpots‘s bday? this is dedicated to them now


The bell above the door tinkles merrily as it opens. Viktor steps in nervously, pulling his hood about him and closing the door quickly, before peering out the little window in the door to make sure he hadn’t been tailed.

After ascertaining that no one had, he steps out into the main part of this shop, looking around him at the dried herbs tied to the ceiling and gathered in baskets all around. A book lies open on the counter, next to a mortar and pestle and a small linen bag. 

A bengal cat comes leaping down from the rafters, landing onto the counter before flicking its tail and turning to survey Viktor with piercing green eyes. Viktor stands rooted to the floor, hardly daring to breathe. He only moves when the cat does; it leaps off the counter and pads away silently through a set of black curtains behind the counter.

Viktor returns to his examination of the room. Minako is taking such a long time to get out here, and he didn’t remember seeing a bengal cat familiar the last time he was here to be checked up by her. He sighs, finger skimming across a deer antler and a rabbit’s foot before coming to rest on a fox pelt. It feels unbelievably soft.

“Hey! I’m sorry it took me so long to get out here!” A voice startles Viktor from his reverie and he turns to see a young dark-haired man at the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. Viktor’s chest does an unpleasant-feeling lurch, and he heaves, caught off-guard by the sudden motion. The young man’s eyes widen, and he scrambles around the counter to catch Viktor just as he stumbles.

The young man smells like petrichor, Viktor muses, before he’s being guided to a stool and instructed to sit. The young man vanishes behind the curtains again, and reappears momentarily with a cup of some sort of hot beverage.

“It’s tea,” he explains, when Viktor clutches the cup and stares at it. 

“…Thank you,” mumbles Viktor, before he sips. It is scalding, but it is tea, indeed.

“You gave me a bit of a fright,” admits the young man. “What can I do for you?”

Keep reading

December’s Bareness [YKH] (M)

↠ kihyun x f!reader, 16.7k, protecting yourself isn’t easy, but protecting the ones you love is harder
smut (face riding, mentions of other stuff), mentions of death and other mafia stuff, part of my mafia!au collection (pls check my masterlist)

“But let me set one thing straight. I can’t live without you. I’ve barely been sleeping because I don’t know if you’re okay. I won’t live with myself if you’re hurt, and you can bet your ass I will be looking out for anyone who could have touched you. Innocent or not. I will hunt them down until I know you’re okay. Please. Please. I just want to know you’re okay.”

Originally posted by monstaxscenariosx

Keep reading

The first candlenights without Magnus

he’s always on wood chopping duty for the fireplace because sure, they could magic it, but it’s more fun to watch him, and for safety reasons they make his dogs stay inside, so that first year all of his dogs are waiting by the door for him to come back from the cold and stomp the snow off his boots and make the house warm, but he doesn’t

instead, they get kravitz who’s always kind but distant to them and they don’t understand why he is here and their magnus is not but they take the food he gives them and accept the gentle pats he gives them on the head and then return to their post at the front door, which is where they still are the next day when davenport resolutely cleans up the morning breakfast still turning to mould in magnus’ sink and sits in the chair beside the empty one that smells of pine sap and hot metal and says things none of the dogs can quite understand, except that he says the name that means home to them

the third day of their guarding the door is when lup comes, and despite their worry they wag their tails because lup means treats and running through the snow and a much needed lightness, and they’re confused at the way she takes them out to run through the yard but stays perfectly still herself, and there are tears in her eyes when she kneels down to let them lick her face, and although she seems a little better when barry who remembers all of their names comes the next day, it’s beginning to dawn on the dogs that something has gone wrong

angus comes the next day, and they can’t jump up to his shoulders like they could before but he still has just as much time for them, in between methodical unboxing of decorations and conversations held just a little too loudly for the old house and while the dogs lie in the coat room together the house transforms around them, and the smell of magic hangs in the air alongside the beautifully carved candlenights decorations. they don’t move, not to eat or stretch or sniff around, not even the pregnant dog their magnus called Daisy, until lucretia comes, because they understand on some level that this human ought to be treated gently, the same way their magnus treated some of them who could no longer manage stairs or playing like puppies could. they rest their heads on her legs, when she sits down in the filling up living room, and she scratches them behind the ears and the people around her keep her there when she moves to help, which suits the dogs just fine

it’s been a week since they started waiting for their magnus, when the door opens in a rush and little dwarven hands tug their tails while larger ones bat them away, and merle’s familiar beard brushes up against their noses as they greet him and all his little grandchildren, and the house feels active, and there’s a smell of all kinds of tasty things as lup rolls up her sleeves and gets to work alongside her little kitchen helpers, and a few of the younger dogs curl up by the warmth of the stove and watch, and as the day wears on they grow to understand that this is an Important day to the friends of their magnus, and that there are meant to be more hands helping, another voice in the din

the lights from outside grow long and dim around them, and the door opens on the elf who gives them all the best table scraps and they haven’t seen him since their magnus started falling asleep in his chair rather than climb the steps to bed, and although he lets them sniff at his fingers and lick at the burns and cuts that cover them, there is something markedly changed in his eyes, his voice. He doesn’t bend down to pet them, and he doesn’t move from the little coat room, not even when the other elf comes in. He stiffens as she speaks, replies with barks too loud and sharp, that make the dogs whimper, and then the both of them are shouting, and by the time the dogs look up again the front door has been left open to the howling dark cold. the dogs know this much; their magnus is not inside with them, and must therefore be out there in the horrible chill. they know, too, that he would never leave one of them behind, and so those of them with the keenest noses, even Daisy with her belly full of pups, venture out to find him

taako stays outside, letting the tips of his ears go from cold to painful to numb in the snowy dark and shaking with words he is not ready to say, until he hears a howling in the snow. he follows it, half looking for an excuse to yell at the others, to be angry at himself, to put all of this somewhere, until he finds them. four dogs in all, three gathered around the one lying down in the bitter cold, and she’s breathing so strangely and- oh. he doesn’t have time to call merle, he’d left his stone of farspeech inside along with his cloak, doesn’t have his bearings well enough to run there and back, and like it or not this dog is ready to give birth. so, he rolls up his sleeves and gathers up everything in his head and forces himself to focus on what’s in front of him

angus is the one who notices the dogs missing, barry is the one who does a quick headcount to confirm it, kravitz opens a rift and checks their home, the school, the caravan, lup paces with restless energy, davenport plans as the snow outside turns to a storm, merle keeps everyone calm, and lucretia opens the door to taako, slightly covered in blood and leading with him four very much alive dogs. he lets his head drop into the crook of her shoulder as the others gather around, and from underneath his shirt he pulls out a little lump of shaking and heat and the wettest little nose, and he barely has time to announce that he’s decided to name it Magnus before he starts to cry, and he doesn’t stop. in the end, the goose turns out a little overcooked, and he teases lup about it while they’re all sat in the little living room. she teases him back, one hand wrapped around barry’s and the other holding a glass of the Famous Burnsides Eggnog. it’s too quiet for any of their liking, and the room is cold without the firewood, but they’re gathered as much as they can be, and when the room falls silent taako rises to his feet, and clears his throat, and opens his mouth when he is interrupted by a little howl coming from the dog bed under the empty chair, and before he can think to clamp his mouth shut he finds himself muttering ‘figures he’d ruin my kickass speech about him even from the grave’ and they find themselves laughing in relief. the rest of the night is equal parts candlenights and eulogy, each of them exchanging a gift for a story about their favourite things magnus did, or the strangest, or the most embarrassing, and as the storm rages on outside they laugh and cry and hold each other the way he’d have held them all, and feel like maybe, even without him, it’s going to be alright

blurryjoshua > americanbf

wrow it’s the end of an era ,,,

The Darkest Part of the Night

AO3


It’s the first day of kindergarten and the rest of his life.

He’s wearing the new shirt his mama got him specially for this day. It’s got two dinosaurs on it, because two dinosaurs are obviously better and cooler than one. At least, that is what he tells his mama.

He finds that the same is true with friends too. He’s had Archie since day one. Their parents were ecstatic to learn they would have sons the same age, able to carry on the lifelong friendship that F.P. and Fred held. They are inseparable, and Jughead wonders why anyone would need more than one best friend, unless they were a really bad best friend.

He used to frown at the thought. Archie could never be a bad friend.

Now though, he sits in a small chair, nervously swinging his short legs back and forth. They don’t quite reach the ground, no matter how far forward he sits in his chair. He needs a distraction, so he stretches one leg out, tongue poking out of his mouth as he tries his hardest, but the ground is still too far away for him to reach.

So is Archie.

There is a messy mop of bright red hair across the room, bobbing up and down with excitement. It only makes Jughead miss his friend more. He wants to share that happiness, but instead he only feels dread.

The classroom is bigger than the trailer he lives in with his parents and baby Jellybean, but it still feels too small in comparison. There are so many kids that Jughead doesn’t know, and even though he pinky promised his mom he would try to make friends, he only wants the one he already has. He misses the day’s when he and Archie could play together for hours, and they didn’t have to follow rules or introduce themselves to all these kids.

He’s insecure, but at his age he can’t put a name to the sour taste that enters his mouth and the tears that brim his eyes as his bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry. Most of the other kids have normal names, like Reggie and Kevin, or Cheryl and Archie, and although Jughead never worried about his name before, he heard all the kids laugh at the little boy named Moose, and by now he’s smart enough to know that his own is even stranger.

His savior comes in the form of a whirlwind of blonde hair, green eyes and a high-pitched voice that brings him down from the edge of tears he is perched on.

“Hi I’m Elizabeth but all my friends call me Betty so you can too now that we’ve met!” She’s too loud and too close for his liking, but she smells like the vanilla cupcakes his mama made the night before to celebrate him going into kindergarten, and he can’t help but lean in even farther.

He blinks a few times once he realizes that she was talking to him, and carefully mumbles a reply while facing the ground. “My name is Jughead.”

When he looks up again, she looks confused and this is what he was worried about. The tears flood his eyes within seconds and he wants to curl into a ball like he does with Hot Dog at home whenever he gets sad. But Hot Dog isn’t here and neither are his mama and daddy and Archie is too far way for him to call out to. Even little Jellybean would be better than any of these people, and all she does is smell bad and cry.

“Sorry! I didn’t hear you very well, can you say your name again?” She’s in his face again, and Jughead gets a good look at her. There’s a sparkle in her eyes and he remembers his mama’s words earlier. Be kind Juggie, and other’s will be too.

She also told him he was a smart boy (and his chest had puffed up a little in pride at these words) and this girl, Betty, is being kind so he assumes she must also have a mama who said the same thing.

“It’s Jughead.” He says while sitting taller, forcing a watery smile onto his face.

“That’s such a cool name! Betty is so boring but it’s alright because that’s what my mommy named me and she knows best because she’s the smartest mommy I’ve ever had!”

He can’t believe she didn’t think his name was funny, and he sits quietly. Even Archie had laughed a little when he first started using it. Now you have a silly real name and a silly nickname! Jughead doesn’t think he was trying to be mean, but now the memory hurts a little in comparison to Betty’s reaction.

Jughead is brought back into focus when he realizes the teacher has reached his table to introduce to the rest of the class. A girl named Midge goes first, then another named Josie. The teacher barely has time to point to Betty before she takes a deep breath and a stream of words that Jughead can barely understands leaves her mouth.

“Hi I’m Elizabeth Cooper but you can call me Betty and I’m so excited to finally be in Kindergarten and this is my new friend Jughead!” She practically falls out of her seat with excitement and giggles rack her small body as she slaps a hand over her mouth and gives a muffled shriek. Her blond curls are bouncing and Jughead is mesmerized by her already. “Sorry I’m just so excited I couldn’t hold it in!”

He looks down at his shirt and sees the two dinosaurs. This is the second time she’s referred to him as her friend since they got here, and he thinks that if two dinosaurs are better than one, it only makes sense that two friends are better than one as well. And he’s a smart boy, so it must be true.

“Well, Miss Betty, your friend might have wanted to introduce himself today.”

His feels warm with affection for the bouncing blonde sitting next to him, and he thinks that the teacher is right. He does want to share his name after all.

~

Tomorrow is the first day of sixth grade, which consequently means that it is the first day of middle school as well.

Jughead doesn’t think that this means anything special, but from her place next to him at the kitchen table, Betty insists that everything changes once you start middle school. He shrugs with indifference since he gave up arguing with her years ago.

He’s found that she is usually right anyways.

“We’re going to a whole new school, and new kids from different elementary schools will be there too. We’ll have new teachers, and we have to go to six classes now instead of one. Can you believe that? Six classes!”

She is breathless from ranting, and so is Jughead, but for a different reason altogether. She’s been talking about sixth grade all break, and the excitement she feels has become too much for her to contain, and it spills out like the sticky overflowing sodas they shared with Archie all summer long. Her hands move as rapidly as her mouth does, and he can’t decide which one to focus on first. Which ones he likes better.

He’s nervous though, because if what she says is true, there is a chance Betty will make better friends than Jughead and suddenly he isn’t hungry for Alice Cooper’s famous mac and cheese anymore. He just wants Betty.

He gave up long ago on being Archie’s only friend, because the boy was too outgoing to be glued to Jughead’s side 24/7. He never worried though, because the red-head remained as loyal as ever to his best friend, and Jughead would always be his first choice. 11 years of life had taught Jughead that people come and go, but over 10 years of friendship with Archie had taught him that they were brothers, and family never leaves you behind.

(Soon he will learn that this is not necessarily true, and that as usual, Betty is right. Everything changes when you least expect it.)

Betty is different though. She listens to Jughead’s problems and gives him better advice than anyone else could. She’s held his hand through elementary school and all the insecurities it brought him growing up. He’s never had a friend as caring and warm as Betty, and doesn’t think that he ever will again if he loses her.

You get what you give Juggie. He grew up in the trailer park with this mentality, surrounded by men and women who protected his family because his father had done the same.

(His mom will tell him this again a year later when she leaves for the last time. You get what you give Juggie, but sometimes what you give isn’t good enough.)

He’s never lived the same life she does, white picket fences with enough money for food and more. His family has lived paycheck to paycheck, and his father jumps from job to job. It’s been hard on him even though he doesn’t like to show it. But it becomes inevitable once Betty has solidified her place in his life that she will learn about his fears and worries about his family’s stability, something no 11 year old should be subjected to.

And still she had stayed by his side, their friendship only growing stronger with time. Archie might be his brother, but Betty is his best friend.

(Most people would say that a brother is closer than a best friend, but brothers are obligated to stay with you by blood or law, a best friend chooses to do so.)

He’s been there for her as well, and right now he thinks that should be enough for her to stay. He protected Betty from bully’s and let her cry on his shoulder whenever she needed to. He held her hand during scary movies, in the hoped that her nails would dig into his hands instead of her own. He always told her she was beautiful whenever she asked about clothes, or when she started wearing makeup over the summer, because she asked for his honest opinion.

Jughead gives the type of love he is desperate to get.

So, when the first day of school comes, he is more nervous than he’s ever been on first days, even though he enters with his two friends at his sides like every year before. He sits with Archie at lunch, since Betty has a different lunch period. His friend spends the entire time dreaming out loud about the new girl, Veronica, and how gorgeous and confident she is. Jughead spends the entire lunch mourning the absence of green eyes and sunshine yellow hair.

The rest of the day flies by, and before he knows it, he is walking towards his last class of the day, the one he has with Betty. His stomach feels weird and a sour taste enters his mouth, but this time he can name it easily. He’s nervous to see her, although he still isn’t quite sure why.

He spots the new girl right away, dark hair, a wide smile, pearl necklace and navy blue dress. He thinks she’s over dressed for sixth grade, but bites his tongue to keep that thought in.

Jughead doesn’t have time to even consider that Betty might want to sit with her new friends instead of him before she comes flying through the door and straight to the table he is sitting at. He is lost in the scent of vanilla and the flowery perfume she made him go shopping with her for, and he finds himself in the waves of her hair and the feel of his arms around her small waist.

Betty has stuck around for the past six years, and in this moment Jughead knows she’ll be around for the next six, if not more. He has time to figure out what this feeling is. For now, though, he’s content that he feels it for Betty and no one else.

~

It’s the first day of their last year together in high school.

Jughead feels his chest tighten uncomfortable at the thought. He’s made it this far and four years ago he never would have guessed it was possible. He was swept up in the tornado of his family that was years of built up pressure and stress and managed to come out alive and fighting. He doesn’t want to leave the little bubble he’s blown around himself for protection, but bubbles are weak and the end of this year will be the needle that pops it.

For the meantime, he has so many things to be thankful for. A father figure in his life, a brother returned to his side, and a light to guide him through the darkness of his own mind.

They are simple things that most people are born with, but these were made for him. Forged by the challenges he’s faced and the same pressure that broke him and then turned him into a diamond.

Fred took him in like his own son after his father went to jail. Even though Jughead will always love and rely on his real father, there are some things you can’t provide from the cold hard floor of a prison cell. He has a home with the Andrews, and he works for Fred to repay him, because you can’t pay for food and shelter with kindness.

After a rift in their friendship, he and Archie only came out stronger. They both needed to work on things, and now they know each other better for it. It takes time, but Jughead forgives him, because he has learned that sometimes you give without expecting anything in return.

But he would not be where he is today without Betty Cooper by his side. She hopped on for the wildest ride of her life and held on like he was the only thing keeping her alive, when in reality it was the other way around. She fought for him, for his family, and for things he didn’t know he was even allowed to want. His heart wanted to burst whenever he thought about her, and how she led him through the darkest part of the night until he could see the sunlight.

He doesn’t think he’s ever loved a person so fiercely, didn’t think it was possible growing up. He never believed he deserved to love and be loved the way he is by Betty.

But she proved him wrong again, like she always does whenever he’s in a bad place. She tells him that there are things worth waiting for, and even though she isn’t perfect herself, he’s never met someone so genuine and rich with love to give. Betty Cooper might not be perfect, but his eyes, perfection was Betty Cooper.

She shares the darkness with him, has taken a weight off his shoulders and consequently put it on her own, but they carry it together now.

Jughead thinks back to the year before this, where he once stood in the same exact spot. He walked the streets of The Southside alone while Betty left the city for the summer and while Archie had left him. He went to Southside High that year, neither of his friends by his side, and pleaded with time to speed up. It didn’t, but eventually those puzzle pieces fell into place and he was thankful for the time he had.

Now, he is here again, staring up at Riverdale High desperately hoping that time will slow down so he can enjoy this life he lives in the moment. It won’t, and soon the first bell will ring. Before he knows it the first week, then month, then semester will be over, and the rest will follow in the blink of an eye.

He tends to live life like this, anticipating the future instead of appreciating the present, but with Betty he wants to focus on the past as well.

It’s not the bell that shakes him out of his reverie, but a soft tug by a small hand on his jacket sleeve. “You ready to do this today?”

He looks down at her and his fingers itch with the need to touch. To cup her jaw and run a finger over the soft lips that sing music in his ears. To run his fingers through her hair and keep his overworked and over worried hands busy.

He settles for dropping his arm and slipping his calloused fingers through her soft ones. He runs a finger over her nails and is glad to find they are long, but the scars on her palms are older as this budding relationship.

“I think I am, are you?”

“Of course Juggie, we’ve made it this far and I’m not going to stop here for anyone but you.”

“I’ve waited a long time for this moment Betts, I wouldn’t want to do it without you.” God, he loves her so much.

They walk through the halls before she speaks again, and they stand outside her homeroom. Jughead will be late to his own, but one more minute with Betty is worth more than thousands of detentions.

“I’ll meet you outside by the truck after school, okay?” Her earnest eyes are aimed up at him through thick lashes, and he thinks they too are worth more than the emeralds they mimic.

“I’ll be waiting for you there.” He’d been waiting for her his whole life, and when she was ready, she gave him more than a lifetime of happiness just by being there for him, with him.

Her gaze is intense in a dizzying way, just like she is. His eyes drop from hers to the plush lips that helped heal his wounds, and he leans forward a fraction of an inch. The scent of vanilla lingers, but he recognizes it as the scent of home.

When their lips meet, it’s gentle, like she had been with him at his most fragile. After a moment, she signs, and melts into his grip on her waist. Their lips move against each other and Jughead feels warm and fuzzy. He’ll never get used to the feeling of having this part of her, but for them, each kiss is like the first. It feels exciting and new.

After school, she beats him to FP’s beat up old truck. He spots her immediately when he steps out of the building, and watches for a moment in awe. The sun shines one her golden skin and she has never looked more like the angel that she is.

It’s been a long day, and he craves the feeling of being wrapped up in her arms. She looks up as he strides over to her and immediately understands, setting her things in the bed of the truck and opening her arms.

He just hugs her for a moment, breathing in her comfort and loving the feeling of how she fits like a puzzle piece against his body.

“You ready to go home Jug?”

He takes another deep breath and mumbles against her ear, “I’m already there.”

And what about the HEROIC Space Orcs?

A Follow up to So About Those Space Orcs… For @paintsplatteredponies, who wanted more of the xenomorph puppy, and for @sxekhaos, who wrote: 

I would love to see the other side of this. Where alien kids find themselves lost or hurt and humans are the only ones around. The aliens kids are scared of the humans, they have heard stories about humans. But the humans help and protect the kids.

Raleight 46 is, due to technicalities in the Sarthonac planetary index naming scheme, sometimes known as Raleight (Almost) 46. (Because Emperor Raleight of the late Glorious Raleight Empire never quite finished conquering it and when filing proper paperwork for its inclusion in the Federation’s database, called it “Raleight 46, well, Almost.” and the computer did the best it could with that input.) 

It is a tiny death trap world originally intended as no-walls prison colony for the undesirable, criminals and people that the Emperor didn’t really like all that much but hadn’t done anything particularly noteworthy to justify a death sentence. (Emperor Raleight was not particularly fond of death sentences, he found them amoral. He did not find war and conquest amoral, though. Unfortunately for everyone involved. The only thing that came out of this bizarre [and frankly hypocritical] desire to avoid killing was that all his enemies were left alive and kicking and ready to plot out revenge. This is why the Glorious Raleight Empire is late, and not current, if you know what I mean.)

Raleight (Almost) 46 would never truly serve as prison, proper. While Emperor Raleight was signalizing the final conquering process of the world - well, Almost - the infrastructure was a nightmare that plagued imperial constructors and architects with enough frustration to push them into joining the ranks of the rebellion. As the rebellion flourished into full on civil war, the Glorious Raleight Empire collapsed into free, independent worlds that each submitted their own applications to the Federation. 

(The Federation approved the newly freed colonies requests, and immediately swamped them under bureaucracy that made them keenly miss the late Emperor’s eccentricities. They could not know birth of the Glorious Raleight Empire was directly tied in to Ra’ng Leighton’s chronic inability to file anything properly, as well as his once drunken whine at a Federation clerk if there was any way to avoid doing personal paperwork, which the clerk had then taken as an official verbal inquiry and replied that members of the Federal Senate and leaders of recognized independent empires were exempt from regular filing duties. Ra’ng knew damn well he didn’t have neither the money, the patience or the lack of moral fiber to serve in the Senate and not get assassinated on his first week on it, thus he became Raleight The Glorious and set out to conquer a planet he could make into the Glorious Raleight Empire. Predictably, this first planet was also named Raleight. Because Ra’ng was the kind of person who sucked at naming things and having come up with one that’s decent, will overuse it to death. However, Raleight turned out to be an excellent conqueror and soon enough he was adding numerals to planets as his sphere of influence grew, recklessly and without particular thought behind it.)

But I digress, the point is, Raleight (Almost) 46 was left entirely out of the conflict and in fact went on with life - what passes as life in this self-declared death trap world of misery and despair - with a certain air of controlled panic. The penitentiary crew built up a town and settled in as best they could. The workers and petty criminals who had been sent in with no rhyme or reason began mixing and mating and by the time the Federation realized that Raleight (Almost) 46 was the last bastion of the Glorious Raleight Empire that still hadn’t sent out a request to formally join it, and thus sent out a crew to investigate, Raleight (Almost) 46′s only settlement, aptly named Old Town, had become a stubbornly tight-knit community after generations of close relationships and a culture of “If We Survive This, I’ll Buy You A Drink.”

Historians now argue if some of the original crew sent to Raleight (Almost) 46 was not part of the human diaspora across the Federation, given the decidedly Human principles that quickly served as foundations for the isolated culture in the planet. To this day, Raleight (Almost) 46 has become a decidedly popular tourist location for Humans and its economy has shifted to reflect this. However, the first recorded human in Raleight (Almost) 46′s history was the Federation Sanction Peace Officer that would eventually become its first proper Governor, Lucy the Brave, and her second in command, Mia the Hungry.

Keep reading

Omega Lance in an abusive relationship

Endgame Shance. Non-graphic sex and abuse.

-Lance goes into heat, so does what he’s supposed to do and goes to his boyfriend, Lotor.

-Lotor is hella pissed Lance would walk around in public while in heat like a whore

-Lotor ties Lance up to his bed and just brutally takes him. Even in heat, Lance has a hatd time taking it and just weeps knowing he upset his alpha and deserves the treatment

-In between waves of heat, Lotor beats Lance, even going so far as to use a knife to carve cruel words into Lance’s skin

-Lance is helpless to stop it as his heat makes him weak and ten times as vulnerable

-The only reprieve Lance gets is when Lotor goes to classes for a couple hours a day, leaving Lance to deal with the lain of both his injuries and heat alone

-Lance’s heat stretches out much longer than usual because of the intervals without sex for so long; his body is confused and hoping to entice his alpha into more breeding

-After 8 days, Lance’s heat finally breaks. Lotor leaves Lance untied for the first time while Lotor’s gone, thinking Lance too beaten up and weak to move. Lance manages to crawl out of Lotor’s bed and across the floor to where Lotor had stripped off Lance’s pants the first day and left them on the floor.

-Thankfully, his cell phone is still in his pocket. He has tons of missed calls and messages from people worried about him, but he ignores them to call the one person he knows can save him–Shiro

-Shiro answers, frantic to know where Lance has been. Lance can barely croak out Lotor’s name between his sobs and destroyed throat. Shiro immediately understands and starts reassuring Lance that he’s on his way.

-Shiro doesn’t hang up until he’s forced to so that he can call the rest of their gang for help, needing backup as he didn’t know what he’d find or how violent Lotor might be.

-Lance doesn’t speak another word, but his sobs quiet hearing Shiro’s reassurances

-Everyone is pissed beyond belief at Lotor when they hear from Shiro. They all knew Lotor was a scumbag, but he must have done something horrible if no one had heard from Lance in over a week.

-They all show up at Lotor’s apartment just as Lotor returns from classes. Shiro practically beats down Lotor’s door.

-Lotor answers, and they demand to know where Lance is. Lotor dodges by saying Lance was in heat and teases the group with insults about how much of a whore Lance is.

-Keith (protective Keith yay!) breaks first and punches Lotor square in the jaw. Shiro’s not far behind but the group stops them when Lotor’s a bloody, groaning pulp on the ground.

-The rest, not wanting to get in a pissed alpha’s way, agree to watch Lotor while Shiro looks for Lance.

-Shiro finds Lance passed out in the bedroom on the floor. Lance’s phone is still in his hand like he’d made the call to Shiro and promptly passed out.

-Lance is covered in bruises and half-healed cuts. His hair is caked in dried blood from some sort of head wound and one of his arms looks broken in multiple places.

-Shiro is shocked but gets himself together enough to take out his phone and call an ambulance.

-Shiro doesn’t dare move Lance in case of a spinal injury but cradles Lance’s face in his hands, softly speaking Lance’s name to see if he can regain consciousness

-Lance does wake up and immediately starts crying at seeing Shiro, trying to apologize but only able to get out a few raspy phrases

-Shiro shushes him and spends the next few minutes comforting Lance before the ambulance arrives

-Timeskip to Lance’s recovery. Lance admits he was never happy with Lotor but used the relationship to punish himself for what he thought were inappropriate thoughts about Shiro, his friend and mentor.

-Shiro’s gets super upset and tells Lance he had the same feelings but thought Lance didn’t reciprocate them and would only find him creepy

-They can finally be together and help Lance heal from the traumatic experience.

-Shiro becomes extremely affectionate and protective which Lance can’t help but love. They know the experience will always haunt Lance, but they also know they can get through it together with the help of each other and their deeply loyal friends

No Filter. 1213w

When Derek was hired to photograph some up-and-coming novelist for his book jacket, he was expecting someone stuffy, middle-aged and, well, bookish.

That’s not what he gets. At all.

Note: I apologise in advance for the disgustingly sappy ending. | AO3



When Derek was hired to photograph some up-and-coming novelist for his book jacket, he was expecting someone stuffy, middle-aged and, well, bookish.

That’s not what he gets. At all.

The boy on his studio doorstep, no older than a college student, is bright-eyed and wearing a clashing blue and purple plaid shirt over a bright red tee with a yellow lightning bolt in the middle, hair sticking up every which way.

As soon as he’s through the door, the guy’s mouth moves a mile a minute, and Derek clutches at his camera like it’s some sort of lifeline amongst the flood of words bombarding him. He’s barely taken two steps inside and Derek has somehow learnt the guy’s name is Stiles, he had an omelette for breakfast and his best friend decided to become a vet after rescuing an injured baby rabbit from the side of the road.

He can’t remember how morning meals turned to woodland animals and, if asked, he’d venture a guess Stiles wouldn’t either. Instead, he’d probably start in on the wonders of the mind and end up at orchestral overtures. As it is, he’s found his way to relating the benefits of glasses over contact lenses. Derek finds himself wondering how Stiles’ fingers can keep up with his thoughts when typing up his novel, how he’d manage to arrange it all into any semblance of order. It just conjures a vision of a very harried-looking editor.

Erica, Derek’s assistant, looks just as bemused as Derek feels, but a smile is steadily growing on her face as Stiles prattles on while she arranges his hair into something more presentable. Derek understands it. Stiles’ chatter, despite being a shock to the senses, is lively and engaging, a buzzing energy he can’t help letting draw him in.

The feeling only intensifies when he gets Stiles in front of his camera.

The man doesn’t stop fidgeting or talking, eyes darting around the room like he’s not sure where to look; a clear display of nerves. For Derek, it’s like a feast: Stiles’ roving amber eyes catching the overhead lights, the splay of his long fingers as he gestures animatedly, the lush pink of his mouth shining every time he wets his lips. It’s such a pity the typical style for this sort of work is black and white.

He’s intrigued by Stiles’ animated descriptions of his book, of what sounds like a complicated web of parallel universes and the clash of seemingly unrelated plot lines, but with Stiles’ energy and passion, Derek has no doubt he can pull it off. It sounds like he’s onto something that has the potential to be huge, and when Derek tells him so, it’s the first time Stiles falters. He ducks his head, eyes shyly averted and lips pressed together in an attempt to hide a pleased smile.

Eventually, Derek realises he needs to produce some usable photos and Stiles’ sheepishly apologises for his motormouth and jittery nerves.

“If it helps, you can picture me naked,” Derek offers, raising his camera once again in an attempt to conceal the heat creeping up his ears.

Stiles’ eyes widen for a moment and then his smile becomes a lascivious grin. Derek’s finger shakes as he snaps a picture, trying to ignore the stray voice in his head pointing out it would be right at home gracing the cover of a very different sort of publication.

In the end, Derek ends up taking a lot more pictures than he normally would for this sort of job. He tries to tell himself – and Erica’s knowing glances – that he just lost track of time, but deep down he knows it was just a way to delay saying goodbye.

When Stiles takes his leave and Derek shuts the door behind him, the studio is eerily quiet, gone from his favoured setting of a focused, professional working space to feeling like something’s missing.

Erica is shrugging on her coat. She doesn’t say anything but her pursed lips tell him all he needs to know. He should have asked for his number, asked him on a date, at least said he’d like to see him again. But ‘direct’ never has been Derek’s style when it comes to relationships.

Hitting send on the email containing Stiles’ files feels like the end of something no matter how much Derek tries to tell himself there wasn’t even a beginning.

*

A month later, Erica drops a package in his lap addressed to him in an erratic scrawl. Inside, he finds a signed copy of Stiles’ book and a handwritten message on the inside cover. It rambles just as much as Stiles had in real life and Derek’s smile makes his cheeks ache as he reads.

Look, so, this is probably way out of bounds and I’m really sorry if it is but I’ve been thinking about you a lot ever since I hired you to take my picture and I know I probably should have come to see you in person to do this but you’re like, insanely hot and I couldn’t think of an excuse to come and see you in case of the highly likely certain possibility that I’d chicken out and pretend I needed more photos or something or, God forbid, I’d accidentally say the ones you took weren’t good enough because let’s face it the word vomit is strong with this one. And I just want to be clear, I’m not just saying I couldn’t stop thinking about you because of your face and biceps and your whole – everything, because there’s also the fact that even though I took up, like, an hour more of your time than I should have, you didn’t tell me to shut up even once which is probably a first in my entire life? And I kinda got the feeling that you maybe didn’t mind it?

So. Call me? Or don’t. Either way is fine. WAIT I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean it would be fine if I didn’t hear from you, though of course I totally respect your decision if you don’t want anything further to do with me. I mean, look at this message. Of course you’re already looking, you’re reading it right now. I just mean– Jesus, this is why I never hand write. There’s no filter. And now Scott’s advancing to take this away from me before I embarrass myself any further – you know, the vet? I’m sure I told you about him? – ANYWAY. What I mean is, I’d really love to hear from you so CAL L   M

Below the abrupt end of the message is a phone number printed neatly in someone else’s hand and Derek can picture Stiles’ faceless best friend sighing with exasperation.

Derek reads the message through twice more, able to hear Stiles’ voice so clearly.

No, he doesn’t mind. He wants to hear more. He wants to hear every errant thought that’s ever crossed his mind, every anecdote, every opinion. Derek dials his number and tells him so.

*

The sequel Stiles presses into Derek’s hands in person and it contains a similarly lengthy, rambling request to move in together.

*

The final entry in the trilogy comes with only four simple words and Stiles sinking down onto one knee.

anonymous asked:

"Ok, who gave her tequila?"

Thanks for the prompt :) 

“EM-MAAAAAAAA!” 

Emma winces at the sound of her name being bellowed through the Diner. She barely has time to blink before Regina hurls herself into her arms. 

“Whoa,” Emma gasps as she barely catches Regina before surveying the Diner. Emma groans seeing the evidence of haphazard fireballs and drinking games. She sighs before staring accusingly at the Queens of (formerly) Darkness. 

Now their evil has faded away, with Ursula working at the pet shelter and Mal at the bank. The three of them meet up for lunch regularly but every month they make drinking plans which normally result in hungover clean-ups and apologies to Granny the next morning. 

“Ok,who gave her tequila?” Emma asks. 

Mal and Ursula feign innocence before bursting into laughter. 

Emma sighs turning to Granny, “And advice.” 

“There’s no helping them,” Granny replies with a wry smile, “Just as long as they’re all here at six a.m sharp to clean up this mess.” 

“You have her tequila didn’t you?” 

Granny simply grins, “I have to make money somehow. Regina, I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“No you won’t!” Regina cackles. 

Emma shakes her head at her, “Every month, don’t blame me when the alarm goes off in four hours.” 

“I’d never blame you,” Regina promises, “I love you too much.” 

Emma smiles, “I love you too…remember this in a few hours…”

No Control

So here it finally is! My Big Bang fic for this year! I’m so happy to be finally posting and I really hope you like it cos I worked really hard! Huge shout out to all the admins of the @pjohoobigbang for being patient with me and organizing this whole thing! Also a massive thanks to my two awesome betas @strugglinginthedatabase and @poison-for-breakfast for not only getting me out of many slumps but also geeking out with me about the books! And of course to my artist @nightowlagainsttheworld ! Enjoy!


*****EDIT here’s the link to the art



Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus and lieutenant of Artemis, made her way quietly towards the Big House of Camp Half-Blood where Chiron was waiting for her. The old centaur had chosen his human form for their meeting and was seating by the fire when she walked in, a blanket covering his fake human legs. His smile was warm but his eyes told her he was all business today. “So glad you could make it.” he told her, “Please, have a seat.” Thalia did as she was told, anxious to know what this whole meeting was about. “Were you surprised to get my Iris message?”

Thalia and Chiron had always kept good connection with each other, but it was mainly due to their links to the Hunters and the Campers respectively. “Yes.”

“It’s nothing bad,” he reassured her. After a pause he added, “Annabeth is fine.”

Thalia eased a little, but -as always- was uncomfortable by how easily Chiron could read her.

“I need a favor, one that might include you donating some of your time to the camp.” Chiron could tell that the idea didn’t particularly settle with Thalia. “I’m asking now because I know Artemis has given your hunters a bit of a break at the moment. Not that you’re not still busy.” He added the last part to appeal to her pride, which he knew resembled the one of another certain demigoddess, but it just made Thalia even more suspicious.

“What is it?”

“I want you to teach.”

Thalia allowed herself a small chuckle. She always felt like she had to be extra professional around the old centaur. “Teach what exactly? I know you have no shortage of great fighters. Unless something’s happened…”

“Nothing’s happened, my dear child, and you are right we have no shortage of great fighters that can teach how to throw a javelin or archery. But we both known that for some those are not their only weapons.”

Keep reading

A Cold Embrace

More Kallus fic! Linked to Kallus and the Chimera (Zero hour, Kallus’s perspective + extra stuff)

Captured and beaten in that water tower, Kallus has some choice words for Thrawn. Fits with what Bendu says on Atollon as Thrawn holds him gunpoint.

Also known as I waited for more Thrawn and Kallus enemy fic but I can’t find any so I’m forced to write more…


“You cannot see, but I can! I see your defeat like many arms surrounding you in a cold embrace.” - Bendu to Thrawn, Zero Hour


After the thirtieth or so sucker-punch to his stomach, Kallus is beginning to figure out when to breathe, and when to guard against the next blow.

These death troopers may be the cream of the elite, but they very much follow the standard Imperial protocols for interrogation; compared to the resistance-to-interrogation training Kallus received in ISB, this is somewhat…mundane.

Of course, Thrawn might be simply allowing the troopers to thin down his energy before interrogating Kallus himself.

Kallus grunts as the an armoured gauntlet connects with his solar plexus again - swallows back a mouthful of bile, and breathes evenly. He has counted the hits; he has at least twenty seconds before the next blow. More, if Thrawn decides to do some monologuing, as he is apt to do.

The aforementioned Grand Admiral is strolling calmly from table to shelf to wall, fingering the mementos Ezra Bridger left here, as quiet and contemplative as though he were visiting an art gallery - an art gallery with background music of fists meeting flesh and hisses of pain, that is.

The metal pipe above his head groans as Kallus raises his head, the chain cuffing his wrists to the pipe clinking in synchrony with the tortured metal. His shoulders feel like they are about to be wrenched clean out of their sockets, but it is worth it to glimpse the intrigued eyebrow Thrawn raises in his direction.

“You aren’t going to win, you know,” he says, conversationally. No sir, or Grand Admiral, or anything. He’d decided to drop all pretence from the moment you talk too much had left his lips.

“And how have you come to this conclusion?” Thrawn purrs.

Kallus notes that the Chiss does not address him by any rank, or even his rebel title, either. Good. A savage sort of glee rises up in him that his little act of insubordination has not gone unnoticed.

He bares bloody teeth at his captor. “My name is not my own.”

“Intriguing. I am aware of your first name, of course, but you use it so rarely I have found it largely irrelevant.”

“I’m talking about Fulcrum, and you know it. And yet you proclaim yourself a genius.”

Thrawn turns to face him, mid-pace. “Hardly self-proclaimed. If my Emperor chooses to praise me in front of others, I am only grateful for his recognition. But don’t let me interrupt. Do continue.”

“There’s more than one Fulcrum in existence.”

Those crimson eyes blink once, slowly, unimpressed. “You continue to state the obvious, Kallus. I wonder if you are so insensitive to interrogation after all.”

Kallus barks a laugh that melds into a scream of metal as the pipe between his hands shudders with the motion. He feels thick liquid bubble at the corner of his mouth. “Once again, you’ve missed my point. There will be another Fulcrum after me.”

“So we will find this new Fulcrum, and destroy their work, as we have done yours.”

Kallus’s sweat-stained hair stings his eyes, but he stares that bloody gaze down with his own gaze, eyes the colour of burning earth. “Then there will be another after that. And another. And another. There will always be a Fulcrum, until the Empire has fallen and the Republic restored. The pendulum of power will swing, and we are the fulcrum.”

Thrawn watches him for a moment, back effortlessly straight, white uniform glowing faintly in the darkness.

“You have much faith for an individual with such a shortened life expectancy,” the grand admiral states, matter-of-factly.

“None of us know when we will die. You should figure out what is worth true faith,” Kallus murmurs, head lolling back for a moment as he swallows.

“Hmm.”

“You still don’t understand, do you?”.

“Enlighten me.”

Kallus chuckles, the sound bordering on hysteria for the first time since capture.  “There may have been one, or two, or a dozen Fulcrums before me, and there may be two dozen after I am dead - but together we, the dead and the living, will snatch at your ankles and pull at your wrists and dig our bloodied teeth into your uniform until we drag you and your blasted Empire into the cold embrace of oblivion. And in that moment, you will know defeat, and you will know we dealt it.” The speech leaves him breathless for a moment, and he hacks up what he supposes could be half his guts, judging by the red - but he has said what he needed to.

Thrawn does not respond.

When Kallus is somewhat more sure that he can raise his head without losing another quarter of his abdominal mass, he finds the grand admiral is already striding purposefully towards the doorway.

Thrawn pauses there, framed by the night stars beyond, and glances back at the deathtroopers. His voice is perfectly even, and entirely succinct. “I must contact Admiral Konstantine. As for our guest - crack his ribs. And only crack them; I shall know if they are injured further. Replace his armour when you are finished.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Kallus. I shall return when my preparations are finished, and then I shall explain what will happen. Until then, I leave you to their care.” With that, Thrawn slips out into the double moonrise, white uniform washing silver for the briefest moment before he escapes from view.

“Delighted,” Kallus mutters under his breath, as he feels his armour being unclipped from his shoulders, and the first blow come lancing in.

END (read Kallus and the Chimaera for more!)


Thrawn and Kallus are a perfect combo for conversation. I needed more. Reblog as you wish, and thanks for reading!

My fanfic masterlist

My ff.net profile and stories

I like TFA Optimus the Bounty Hunter

I have seen bounty hunter AUs before, so please bear with me and my not-so-original idea. But I just want even more excuses for megop, soooo *shrugs*

So in this AU after the disappearance of Elita-1 Optimus is expelled from the academy. He’s not a Prime. He barely has a credit to his name. And it was only because Ultra Magnus was able to pull a few favors that he got himself a ship. It’s not a great one, but it works fine. Of course, it comes at a price.

Basically the Autobots are all “since you don’t have the training/programming for civilian occupations (and you most certainly cannot be something other than what you are), you shall take on various tasks of the state and its law enforcement, should you choose.”

And they basically explain the terms of the bounty hunting, only it had a twist where if OP doesn’t meet his quota, he will be labelled a traitor and get himself put on the list. And they basically say it’s either this or an exile situation where you’ll die slowly from acid rain exposure. Wow, stellar options.

So now Optimus has this shitty ship, a shitty life, and a shitty– no, near impossible– assignment. How is he supposed to make that quota? How is he gonna fight Decepticons? Sentinel threw him under the bus, and is now the right hand mech of the Magnus. Maybe one day Optimus will look back and forgive him of being young and cowardly but today is NOT that day!!

So instead of OP and his team, it’s Rodimus Prime and his crew who trails Megatron all the way to Earth. Only Sumdac doesn’t find Megatron… Optimus does.

He was following a lead of some super secret Decepticon activity, as well as a large energy reading. ‘They’ve gotta be connected.’ He had thought to himself. And he could really use some confiscated fuel.

Just… gimme a barely-functioning Megatron who is trying to talk his way into distracting Optimus, but Optimus is like… just giving him the cold shoulder. Doesn’t engage. Stays very observant of his high-profile captive and doesn’t let him weasel his way out if this.

After a while, Megatron grows silent, and is mildly impressed by this Autobot. It’s a long ride back to the nearest space bridge to Cybertron… so Megatron decides to pick his hunter’s processor…

“You have a designation, Autobot?”

“Not important. What did I say about the talking?”

“You could always up the stasis cuff energy, to prevent all of my function.”

“Yeah, well I’m not cruel. I know that if I do that, your helm will explode, because you won’t be able to contain your insatiable need to pester me.”

“Hn. Well, I…”

“I also know that if I do that they’re more likely to short-circuit. Nice goad, you reeeeaally had me going there.”

“… Hmph. You’re a clever one.”

Silenzio. There’s something to process: a word I just picked up on Earth. It’s got a nice ring to it, maybe you should figure out what it means.”

“… I am fairly certain I can infer it’s meaning…”

Silenzio.”

What does consent look like?

If the objection to Jaime/Brienne is that Jaime’s a rapist and therefore Brienne can do better, then there should be alternatives other than shipping her with Tormund.

If the problem with Jaime is “he’s a scumbag rapist,” then Brienne’s relationship should be centered on her consent. With that in mind…she does not consent to romance with Tormund.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I️ have to ask you- if they’re using D as PR for the bar, why isn’t he on the website or any of the social media? Seems odd a random would post a picture and THAT’S the PR. That’s not what PR is. Not hating, just asking. If they really wanted to use his name, it would be plastered everywhere.

IF they are using D for PR?   Let’s rewind shall we.

The gf of one half of an Indie Band with a low budget video and a song not on the charts “directs” a video.  Video promo comes with 15-20 legit articles. about the director,  Actually barely mentioning the other half of the band. Not to mention 100 or so call outs on social media.  Not PR?

Speaking of director, this apparently is now her job. after all, she did co-direct a video, 2 shoe commercials, and LBL which was HANDED to her. Maybe “aspiring” director?  But no, these paps and magazines are calling her “director.”  I wish I could get a job title so easily.

Let’s talk about those pap pics. Ummmm….Why are the copious amounts of pap pics of the random gf of a B+ celeb who barely has a credit to her name?  Wholly uninteresting when you are in Hollywood?  Hmmmm…let’s think about this. Oh I know, they paps are paid to take their pics.

How many RCs has she been on?  Again same person with no credits to her name except the few she has been handed.

JJ article.  I think she has been mentioned as a celebrity 4 times in a few weeks. She has her own tag!!!

Prior  to Halloween, D had I believe around 8 pics of her on his IG (I counted a few months back but too lazy to find it). In 3 days he suddenly had this urge to post 7 more?  Double the count?  Why?  suddenly after 7 years with his lovely lady he felt this overwhelming need to blast her all over his social media?

Speaking of pics, I believe publicly there were 4 kiss pics released (I may have blocked one out and I am excluding the private IG).  In one night we got 4 more?  TWO posted on D’s IG. One posed for and taken by paps,  They actually stopped on the street and did an entire photo shoot for the paps. You don’t think that is odd?

Sure the pic posted yesterday is low in terms of promotion. But it is promotion and it is naming D as a partner in the bar essentially. That is misleading his fans and trying to get people to go to her bar because of her association to a celebrity.  And they aren’t posting it on TSG’s IG as she is trying to pretend she is independent while all the while she is the least independent person I have ever observed.

It is PR indeed.  And I expect much more of it.

on episode 1, i guess

Well, that’s gay.

Well, the year is nearly over, and Sunshine Season 2 is finally here. Can you believe it’s been two and a half years since Sunshine was announced?

For those of you who don’t recognise me, I used to go by @mikimikimii​ but there’s a change of username. It’s still Miki, don’t worry! Last season I recapped some Sunshine episodes outlining the good, the bad, and the gay. I’d like to do the same here!

Episode 1 leaves me with mixed expectations - our production budget has seen even more of an increase, and the backgrounds look genuinely beautiful this time around. We’ve got KanaMari, ChikaRiko, and par for the course of Love Live, angst.

Let’s get into it.

Keep reading