it's ferocious

When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.

This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.

She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.

“Do you need help?” she offered.

The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.

“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.

This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”

“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”

This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.

Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.

The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.

“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.

She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.

“An outrage! Put me down!”

“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.

“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.

“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”

The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”

“Really? Can I hear some?”

“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.

She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.

In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.

“There you go. Food mountain.”

The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.

She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”

“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.

“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.

She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”

It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.

“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”

“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”

She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”

It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”

“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”

“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.

Lull Before the Storm (1944) - the English Lion and the American eagle crouch side by side on the cliffs of Dover, preparing for D-Day.

She was sick of losing people, having them ripped from her grasp. She was sick of being protected. She was sick of all of the fighting. She hated fighting. But she could no longer stand by. She would fight at Fen’harel’s side and when - not if, when - they survived this…she would finally ask to have her vallaslin removed.

“His precious vhenan, so at peace when she sleeps. She deserves more peace. But not truly his vhenan, not yet, hasn’t had an opportunity to try for so many long years.”

Have I mentioned before how amazing @hansaera​ is? Look at this gorgeous piece of artwork. I finally have my two lovers in the same artwork and I could not be happier!! The vallaslin floating off of Aravae’s face, her fierce expression, their hands swathed in magic, Solas, in @hansaera​‘s style of him as Fen’harel, stealing a glance at the woman he loves, but thought he could never have…

When I got it, it literally stole my breath away and now I can’t stop staring at it. I love it to pieces. Thank you so much for all of your hard work, Saera!

And now, for titles we thought of naming this piece:

  • Solas and his “We’re in this together aayyy” expression.
  • Solas thinking, “Ohhh, the woman I love is right beside me, she’s right there, she looks so beautiful, but don’t let her catch you looking, but I can look for just a second, man she’s such a pretty vhenan- SOLAS STOP IT SHE ISN’T YOUR VHENAN…yet.”
  • Also Solas thinking, “Omg look at that face she looks like my next mistake.”
  • Aravae is like, “I’ma kick Falon’din’s ASS” and Solas is like, “Yeahhh you go fabulous giiirl”
  • “We’re gonna fuck shit up.” “You said it, sista.”
  • “I’m gonna electrocute Falon’din to dust.” “Do that gurl just don’t zap me (get your hand away from me pls)”
  • Yet Solas’ face says, “Girl you can shock me ANYTIME.”
Already Gone

Prompt: “I don’t love you, I never have.”

Word Count: 2,011.

Warnings: Foul language, and emotional abuse.

A/N: I wrote this for @bionic-buckyb‘s writing challenge! She recently hit 5k followers (congrats again sweetie) and I decided to challenge myself this once and wrote out this heartbreaking fic! I took a lot of inspiration from a novel I’m currently reading at the moment, and I honestly think it set the right mood for me to take some inspo from. I would also like to say a special thank you to the very kind @whothehellisbella for dealing with me and helping me out big time as I wrote all of this out. As always, please let me know what you all thought of this and I hope you enjoy!

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Quilava’s Flames of Intimidation Spell (Pokemon Inspired)

“ Before battle, it turns its back on its opponent to demonstrate how ferociously its fire blazes.” -Pokedex Entry

A glamour enchantment spell to make you look more ferocious and intimidating to others.

Originally posted by lillix-92

You Will Need:

🔥 Red Candle
🔥 Rosemary
🔥 Bay Leaf
🔥 Red Marker
🔥 Sigil for Intimidation or the word “intimidate”
🔥 Burn safe bowl or plate
🔥 Piece of Jewelry to enchant

Steps:

🔥 Light your red candle near your fire safe bowl

🔥 In your bowl add a small amount of dried rosemary to its bottom

🔥 On your bay leaf using your red marker draw your sigil or write the word “intimidate” on it. “Like the pokemon of fire Quilava, I wish to be surrounded in flames of red, to show others I am not one to pester, and keep them at bay with dread.” Then kiss your bay leaf focusing on this desire. Visualize yourself surrounded by a red fiery aura as others keep their distance from you.

🔥 Light your bay leaf with the candle and carefully place it into your bowl of dried rosemary. Watch it burn until only ash is left

🔥 Take your piece of jewelry and lay it into the ashes once they cool enough to be safe to do this. Visualize the source of your fiery aura being this piece of jewelry. “Surround me with flames and fire, to intimidate others is my desire!” repeat this as necessary.

🔥 Once you are satisfied brush off the ashes left on your piece of jewelry carefully. Blow out your candle to end the spell

🔥 You may store these ashes to use for other spells such as making black salt if you desire though charge them near the red candle for a few minutes longer if you wish to do this. Or you can dispose of them (properly)

Note: Keep salt or sand near you in case the fire flares up during the burning process. Make sure you are practicing proper fire safety. 

2

New Tenno reinforcements are available!

NEW WEAPON & STANCE

ENDURA ­− The delicate form of this Tenno rapier conceals its ferocious and resilient force.
CYCLONE KRAKEN - Machete Stance - Brutal strikes with deft movement
Find this new Stance in Grineer Fortress Caches!

NEW CUSTOMIZATIONS


NIDINA ARMOR SET − Broad swooping curves are the essence of the Nidina Armor Set.
BROCA SYANDANA − This flowing Tenno Cape is supported by an intricately sculpted brooch.

HALFTONE GLYPH PACK – A collection of Glyphs sure to give your profile the comic-book styling you’ve been searching for. The pack includes the following:

· Nidus Halftone Glyph
· Inaros Halftone Glyph
· Octavia Halftone Glyph
· Ivara Halftone Glyph
· Maroo Halftone Glyph
· Atlas Halftone Glyph

INAROS NOGGLE – Show your devotion to the Undying lord of the Sandstorm with this decoration for your Landing Craft.

As always, donations are welcome! :)

my heart,
stuck in a troubled state,
its tides rising ferociously,
waves crashing with much impact,
the underwater hiding secrets,
treasures of gold or troughs full of trash.
thousands of meters still uncharted.
 
my heart,
an ocean so wide and strange,
having an never-ending love to offer,
so willing to give,
yet, somehow drowning wanderers,
due to its exceeding enthusiasm.
 
one thing is for certain,
it won’t stop until it spots the
blurred outline of your figure.
 
the sirens are singing a hymn
of your favorite songs,
wishing you would someday
dare to sail courageously
on the treacherous, mysterious waters,
hoping you’ll finally calm them.
—  my heart is an ocean, and hopefully, you won’t drown. 
What a Catastrophe [Marauders x Gryffindor! Reader – Marauders Era]

PROMPT ♥
[Requested] When a cat is left in the hands of a bunch of troublemakers, what could possibly go wrong?
♥ A/N ♥
Just as a side-note, I’m completely aware that Dumbledore probably has Apparation restrictions in place at Hogwarts at this time, but just for the sake of the story, let’s pretend. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this, darling xx
WARNINGS
Swearing
WORD COUNT
1422

Originally posted by the-nargles-made-me-do-it

Originally posted by aliceksweeet


15. “I’m never trusting you with my cat again.”

There was never necessarily a point in time where you wanted to trust the Marauders, but desperate times called for desperate measures, you supposed.

You looked at the four Marauders sternly, gripping your beloved fur-baby close to your chest. Though you really wanted to stay and cuddle her in the common-room, you had a meeting with Professor McGonagall to discuss potential careers and you were rather torn between leaving your cat to fend for herself against a bunch of marauding bigots or to sneak her into McGonagall’s office. Sirius had a sincere expression while James blinked innocently, Remus bearing a gentle smile and Peter looking like he wanted to wet himself in the presence of an animal.

“You better feed her,” you said.

Sirius grinned heartily, barking out a laugh. “We will, Y/N.”

“You’ll need to let her sleep when she curls up on the couch, so don’t bother her she’s tired.”

“Yes, love.”

“If she looks sad, give her love and attention.”

“Why couldn’t it be a puppy?” James whispered to Remus and looked like a deer—or a stag, more-like—caught between the glare of a pair of headlights when you glanced over at him. “I love dogs.”

You sighed exasperatedly. “Just… just take care of her, please.”

Sirius saluted. “Yes, sir!”

Slowly, you relinquished your hold on Esmeralda onto the ground. You fluffed up the hair of her head and smiled brilliantly when she purred against your palm. “I’ll see you soon, love,” you whispered to her. With one last glare towards the Marauders, you made a hasty exit. You were already ten minutes late to the meeting.

Esmeralda curled her way around Sirius’s leg, meowing softly at his lack of attention. With a roll of his eyes and a stretch of his arms, Sirius leaned back against the arm of a nearby chair. He raised his eyebrows at his mates. “How ‘bout a trip to the kitchens, yeah?”

Remus frowned, a conflicted look appearing on his face. “But… what about Esmeralda?”

Sirius shrugged. “She can just come with us, I guess.” Esmeralda gave a light push into his left pants leg—whether in agreement or protest, the Marauders couldn’t tell. She was a cat—two-years old, according to your strange track-keeping—and she had a decent splattering of color. Her fur coat was full of browns, blacks, and whites—a rather nice coating, but only moderately.

James grappled her up into his arms. He flinched and crowed lowly when Esmeralda’s claws sank deep into his robe sleeves and right into the skin of his forearm. “Let’s hurry, please.” He yelped when she started hissing, left paw raising and swiping up at his chin. “Bloody hell, cat! How in the sodding name of Merlin am I going to get my Lily-flower now?”

“C’mon, ya pansy,” Sirius said. He pushed himself up from the armchair and sauntered over towards the common-room entrance. His smirk was arrogant and mischievous. “Food awaits.”

The bloody cat scratched and scratched and scratched at James’s face, repeatedly opening up wounds and smearing previous trails of blood. When they arrived at the pear portrait, James’s face was an absolute bloody mess. He’d finally learned his lesson at personal space and now held the cat out like she was a ticking time-bomb just minutes from detonating.

“I sodding hate cats,” he grumbled. “Why couldn’t Y/N give us an owl? I’d rather deal with a sodding toad than this…”

Sirius glanced at James as he tickled the pear. A smirk illuminated his handsome features. “You deal with a toad every time you look in the mirror, dear Prongs,” he said cheerfully, eyes gleaming with excitement as the portrait swung open to reveal the kitchen.

James almost immediately dropped Esmeralda to the ground, face looking drained of the ability to care as he watched her run towards the tables. Remus widened his eyes to a comical height. “Is that… wise, James?” he asked hesitantly.

James didn’t really care as long as the devil-spawn didn’t come any closer to him or his precious dimples. “Of course it’s wise,” he insisted arrogantly. “It’s just a bloody cat.”

Then, they heard a sudden racket coming from over by a long-table. The four Marauders glanced over to see two house-elves fleeing in their direction, shrieking with fear as Esmeralda chased after them. With a sickening crack, the tiny critters Apparated, leaving Esmeralda to hiss and slice at sheer air. James and Remus eyed it with caution while Sirius just grinned at its ferocious little temper.

Peter began to sneeze, over and over again until James reached over to slap him upside the head. “Merlin, Wormtail; is the dust really that bad in here?” he asked, a reproachful look on his face. Peter frantically shook his head, attempting to cover his nose to avoid any more obnoxiously-loud “ACCCC-HOOs!”

“No—I’m a-allergic to cat fur,” he stammered out, voice rather nasally and full of unwarranted lisps.

James threw his hands up. “That’s just great!” he shouted, too caught up in his own woes to even apologize when several of the house-elves on the far-end jumped at the volume. “Stupid bloody cats, always having to ruin everything—”

“You might want to stop while you’re ahead, Prongs,” Remus said. “If Y/N hears you saying that, she’ll never talk to you ever again.” James just rolled his eyes, not bothered in the slightest.

“Is she Lily Evans, Moony?” he asked rhetorically. “Then let her yell.”

Sirius, ever the knight in shining armor, was chasing around Esmeralda, spewing out a string of curses whenever he’d accidentally bump into a wall, table, or chair. “Come here, you bloody cat!”

One of the house-elves hesitantly approached the lot, bearing a plate of freshly-baked cookies. “Would Masters James and Remus like a plate of cookies?” he said sweetly, holding it up for the two to see. Peter himself was a few feet away, mouth salivating hungrily at the sight. However, before the unoccupied Marauders could kindly thank the critter for the hospitality, Esmeralda was weaving her way through the poor elf’s legs, and Sirius came tumbling underneath. The cookies were sent everywhere, and the elf shrieked in fear, Apparating without a second thought.

Chocolate chips and cookie crumbs were scattered all over the floor, and an elf that was just now bringing a platter with hot chocolate was forced to also drop her bearings. Esmeralda seemed to be weary of anything and everything, and blood smeared its way on the floor after a certain swipe made the elf’s little leg start bleeding.

“Oh, shite,” Sirius muttered, still in the same position and with chocolate covering his chin. “That didn’t go according to the plan.”

Remus looked uncertain and disappointed. “When do you ever have a plan?” he asked. Sirius just shrugged, looking to be without an answer.

James cleared his throat, an arrogant gleam appearing in his eyes. “I’ve got this,” he said. With a crack of his knuckles, he approached Esmeralda. Unfortunately for him, the cat believed him to fancy a game of cat-and-mouse. Esmeralda eyeballed him snidely then sprinted off. Her tiny legs were rather agile and fast for something so… well, inhuman.

In a mere five minutes, the place was covered in food, lacking in house-elves, and looking like a tornado had torn apart the furniture. James was in the middle, smacking at Esmeralda. The cat just didn’t want to leave him the bloody hell alone.

Remus and Sirius were silently freaking the fuck out, debating what to do in the situation, when suddenly you walked through the door, a frenzied expression on her face. You stopped in your tracks, eyes wide and mouth agape at the sight before you. “What… the… hell?”

In synchronized panic, Remus, James, and Sirius pointed at Peter. The poor boy sputtered, his protests stifled by the sudden sneezes. You rolled your eyes, finding it difficult to be annoyed when the poor boys looked like they were about to wet themselves in fear of your rage.

Esmeralda scurried her way to you, purring and meowing, rubbing herself up against your leg. You smiled softly, lifting her up into your arms. You cooed softly, scratching behind her left ear. Then, suddenly remembering the problem at hand, you turned your cutting blade—also known as your eyes—back to the four Marauders. You glowered at them. “I’m never trusting you guys with my cat again,” she said.

James gasped out a breath of relief. “Thank Merlin.”

anonymous asked:

Imagine... it was Sasuke's turn do feed baby Sarada. Sitting on chair he just stares into her face. Moonlight streaming through the curtain of the open window, illuminating her pale skin, pink cheeks, dark hair, dark lashes, sleeping peacefully in arms. And he can't help but think, after all the horrible things he had done in this lifetime, how can he deserve something so absolutely beautiful...

He never thought it was possible to love someone this much. He loved Sakura, so, so much, with all of his heart and all of his soul–but the kind of love he felt for the little girl he held in his arms was beyond that. Unconditional, unending; ferocious in its desire to protect, to give everything to.

Sasuke would do anything to make sure that she would get the best life this world could give. 

anonymous asked:

"Come over here and make me!" with Yasu <3 <3 <3 ??

“Come over here and make me!”

It might have been different if he’d smiled while he said it, but he didn’t. The lord robed in gold simply looked bored, the disinterested drawl of his words delivered as though they weren’t even worth the breath. Dismissive; more sigh than speech. You felt the heat pool in your cheeks, the twist of your lips that betrayed your efforts at adopting a poker face, and at that, he smiled, and added, “Ah but, you wouldn’t want to cause trouble, though.” Bored, bored, his head lolled into a hand lifted to catch it, attention returning to the scrolls in front of him, “So you won’t.” Satisfied with himself, a bare flick of his fingers dismissed you further.

Your feet didn’t move.

You knew they needed to. Or some part of you did, but the shocked fury had you rooted in one place, breath strangled in your throat, and the impotence of it was freezing you, along with the knowledge your struggle was entertainment to him, for all that he made quite the show of ignoring you.

He’ll probably kill you. The thought past through your mind, but ferociously on its heels was a visceral snarl, Bring it.

His scroll hit the wall as you batted it free, and his back hit the floor as you dove, umeboshi in your hand as you pushed it towards his lips, and as they opened to express his shock at the situation, you shoved the plum between them in and clapped a hand under his chin, offering mildly, “Chew before you swallow.”

The perennial cool of his gaze shattered, and the smoldering color turned to burnished, melting gold, scalding and dangerous, and you felt sheer satisfaction that for once he was as angry as you, “Listen, wench,” He spit, hand gripping where your kimono had ridden up, straddling his, and the hand that wasn’t on his chin gripped his collar tighter in instinctive anticipation of a fight, and you felt his weight shift—

“Milord Ieyaaaaah…?” Toramatsu hovered in the doorway, trailing off to stunned silence. Tadatsugu peered over his shoulder at the pair of you.

He blinked once.

Then he beamed sweetly, and promptly slid the door shut in front of Toramatsu’s slack-jawed stare, leaving the room in silence once more.

You felt…curiously suspended, in that moment.

And then Ieyasu shoved you off in an ungraceful heap. You scrambled, and he stalked towards the door that had just been slammed shut, hollering, “Tadatasugu get back here, get back here this instant, you…” His hands twitched, fingers curling in a ghost reflex of plucking.

This time your body obliged the panic rising in your pulse and moved of its own volition, scrambling to your feet and straightening your skirts as you reached for the bowl of plums. Ieyasu was there, then, and you jumped, even as he lightly smacked your hand away from the bowl, grumbling with irritation, “Leave those.”

You couldn’t help it. Warmth, pleased and heart-full spread to your smile, sweet as the sourness of the umeboshi, and that only made his molten stare darken, “Get out, already.”

You grinned, though you knew you’d pay for it, “Yes, milord.”

More of Lee’s Rambles (see these #’d prompts under the Misc. tag!)

anonymous asked:

Hey! So obviously everyone loved the episode last night - there was just so much destiel feels in there it's enough to fill up an entire football stadium. BUT I keep thinking that the writers might be trying to set Cas and Kelly up, because you know, it's supernatural, and I just feel like the possibility of destiel going canon is too good to be true. I mean, Kelly is great, but it would be the worst romance ever - weird and force and kinda cringey. Maybe I'm paranoid, idk. What do you think?

(via @anon) Idk if i like where this story is going… i dont want to see cas kelly baby stories and him raising the child :/ i want cas with the brothers :(

Hi - I’m squishing these two asks together, hope you guys see it. :)


The Nephilim: what’s next?

Look, the thing is - maybe the Nephilim will die in the finale, or maybe he’ll be the Big Thing in S13 - we still don’t know. What we do know, on the other hand, is that it would be very hard to work him into the story in a way that’ll keep Cas away from Sam and Dean. Like, you know - from a narrative point of view, what do you do with this thing?

  • Option 1 It’s born and it grows at a normal human rate. If this happens, the Nephilim will have no place whatsoever in the show, because babies are both hard to work with and boring boring boring, and as much as we, the demented viewers, want to see Dean and Cas making nonsense noises and cooing at this second Antichrist, it’s not going to happen. If this is where they’re going, we’ll have a Jesse situation: the Nephilim will be carted off to live with some other hunter (not Cas, because Cas is one of the main characters and is needed elsewhere), and we’ll never hear from him again. 
  • Option 2 It’s born and grows Amara-style, turning from adorable creepy baby who moves stuff with his mind to overly attractive teenager who winks at Dean and makes him uncomfortable. I hope they’ll avoid this narrative, because we’ve seen the exact same thing last year, but if they do something like that -
  • Option 2a If the Nephilim is a bad guy, he’ll probably become S13′s Big Baddie, and Cas will have no reason to stick with him, so we’ll have the usual ‘only you can break me free from this mind control spell but nobody knows why’ trope and TFW will spend the rest of the season staring gloomily into space and wondering how to kill a semi-god, again.
  • Option 2b If the Nephilim is a good guy, he’s gone. There is simply no way they can keep around an allpowerful and benign deity without having massive problems. This is why they keep hurting Cas, remember?, because if Cas had his wings and his courage and his cold logic and his angelic self-confidence, Sam and Dean could spend their days playing beer pong in the Bunker. Cas would simply teleport himself wherever a monster has been spotted, look around with his x-ray vision, and then lift a finger and make a whole abandoned neighbourhood explode. And that’s it. So, well - like they did with Jesse, and even with Amara and Chuck - if this new kid is a Good Person, he’ll probably wander off on his own.
  • Option 2c If the Nephilim is a Gabriel-like morally grey trickster, it’s likely the Winchesters will still vote to hunt him down and kill him. They did it to Gabriel, after all, and if he hadn’t died (*wails forever*) in the war against Lucifer, I’m sure Sam, at the very least, would have gone after him. Tricksters work fine, or more than fine, as characters, but you don’t want one living in the same reality as you. Look at the messes Loki manages to whip up every couple of weeks - nope, if something is too powerful and you can’t understand how they think and feel, unfortunately the best option is to take them out. Better to be safe than sorry.

It’s still possible, at this point, that something happens and the Nephilim dies, likely with Kelly. This would make sense for a number of reasons, including that everyone except Cas, Lucifer and Kelly really wants this thing gone. The Host is gunning for him, Crowley would surely prefer he died, the BMoL (if they knew about him) would probably launch a nuclear grenade wherever Kelly is and to hell with ‘collateral damage’, and even Sam and Dean - they want to be normal and kind, but they might have no other choice, and if it comes to that, they know they must at least try to kill this child, because, yeah, NOT A CHILD, PEOPLE, and look at what happened with Amara. So maybe it’s not the Nephilim’s life that’s the big plot of next season, but his death and how it happens. We know we’re headed for some massive family conflict, and, in this sense, what’s going on with Cas is part of that. It’s those old what’s right and wrong, who’s your family, who do you trust questions Supernatural likes to throw at us, but, as we’ve seen in the past, whatever happens the endgame is what Dean just told us to our faces - him, Sam, and Cas working together, Team Free Will, because they’re better together and they’re family and that’s not gonna change, demonic baby or no demonic baby. So don’t worry too much - Cas won’t stay away for long.

Cas and Kelly: a romance in the works?

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Feel It (Victor Zsasz x Male Reader Smut)

Originally posted by welcome-to-cobblepothell

Requested by anon: Knife play with Zsasz, because let’s be honest, he’d be into it, lol…with male reader.

A/N: A short imagine but I hope you like it, sweet anon.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Knife Play, Blood Play, Facefucking.

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the xx’s were unhappy - yesterday -  i wuz not the cause but - she sleeping this morning - in a place she hasnt lately - but found safe when she was younger - a table - by the landline - made of 3 boxes of books w a nice tablecloth draped over - we dont throw out books - still have dreams of a larger place w more bookshelves - the unpoet got creative  - wake up was not too early - kitty under the weather in the evening and grumpy with indignity - and the withholding food thing - which she sees as punishment sometimes - im forgiven now -  peaceful morning and she purred - much praise softly spoken - petting with a light touch - i suspect when its play she b ferocious

5

Cass: [1] Its extremely soft feathers make no sound in flight. It silently sneaks up on prey without being detected [2] When darkness falls, the rings on its body begin to glow, striking fear in the hearts of anyone nearby [3] They fly around on moonless nights and attack careless prey. Nothing can beat them in a battle in the dark [4] It will use its arms like swords in order to protect someone. It is a master of courtesy and swordsmanship

Dick: [1] Swellow flies high above our heads, making graceful arcs in the sky [2] Despite the beauty of its lilting voice, it’s merciless to intruders that enter its territory [3] For the sake of its friends, this brave warrior of the sky will not stop battling, even if injured [4] Altaria envelops people it loves with its cotton-like wings

Damian: [1] At first sight, Poochyena takes a bite at anything that move [2] This special Pokémon conceals many different possible evolutions [3] It is said to be difficult to earn its trust. However, it is extremely popular for its cute looks and behavior [4] Although it possesses a violent temperament, it won’t put up with bullying

Tim: [1] In battle, Blaziken blows out intense flames from its wrists and attacks foes courageously. The stronger the foe, the more intensely this Pokemon’s wrists burn  [2] The hotter the flame sac on its belly, the faster it can fly, but it takes some time to get the fire going [3] Treeko is cool, calm, and collected - it never panics under any situation. If a bigger foe were to glare at this POKéMON, it would glare right back without conceding an inch of ground [4] Salamence came about as a result of a strong, long-held dream of growing wings. It is said that this powerful desire triggered a sudden mutation in this Pokemon’s cells, causing it to sprout its magnificent wings

Jason: [1] When Staravia evolve into Staraptor, they leave the flock to live alone [2] Ninetales is a very vengeful Pokémon that has been known to curse those who mistreat it [3] Rumored to sense disasters with its horn, it became a target. It fled deep into the mountains [4] Marowak is well known for ferocity with its bone club, which it is said to collect from a hidden graveyard. Upon evolution, Marowak has overcome the grief of its mother’s passing. Now ferocious and violent, Marowak is an adept combatant, and uses the bone it carries as a weapon and a boomerang

But clearly the insidious distillation of racial terror, state violence, and surveillance in our current era demands a new collection of jams. Likewise, this moment calls for an active, watchful, robust, and antiphonal black commons “woke” enough (as the kids would say) to read the commodification of “blackness” and “black message” music so as to make sophisticated and empowering choices and statements, to generate critical reception as well as rejection of the pop art that we’re invited to consume ad nauseam, 24/7. New millennial black protest pop captures and grapples with the specificity of racial catastrophe in the twenty-first century—its inextricable ties to neoliberal infrastructures, to the prison-industrial complex and globalized wealth inequality; its ferocious preoccupation with the violent expenditure of women and children; its ubiquity crossed with its seeming illegibility. New millennial black protest pop recognizes, mourns, and rages against the relentless roll call of black folk slain by the state, by one another (in conditions enabled by the state), and by agents of white supremacy.

That black protest music (if that’s what we should even call it anymore) might look and sound and feel as contradictory and varied as it does in the hands of a culture-industry behemoth like Beyoncé or an upstart South Central hip-hop poet like Kendrick Lamar, who rejects the title “MC” in favor of “writer,” or an iconoclastic neosoul vet like D’Angelo, who shuns the flash of the pop world, should come as no surprise in this moment of two-generations-removed post–civil rights struggle and activism. We are in an era characterized by spectacular dichotomies in black modern life, the ironies of hypervisible black-celebrity wealth existing alongside an outsize, cancerous black and brown carceral complex. So it makes sense that such a diverse array of voices would emerge in tandem with, in response to, inspired by, and occasionally at ideological odds with Black Lives Matter, the most prominent grassroots black-liberation movement in the US in more than two decades. After all, this large-scale uprising—which started on social media and quickly took to the streets—was started and is led in part by three young African American women (two of whom identify as queer): Patrisse Khan-Cullors, Alicia Garza, and Opal Tometi, who know a thing or two about intersectional politics—a politics of racial, gender, sexual, and class identities and experiences informing one’s selfhood. BLM is thus an effort founded on the principles of complex, multifaceted “blackness” and on the heterogeneous sociopolitical energies and ideologies of black feminism, hip-hop, LGBTQ activism, Occupy, and civil rights and Black Power resistance movements aimed at creating a new coalition of dissenters lobbying for reform. As scholar Andreana Clay has astutely pointed out, “we have a full-fledged movement happening that is full of leaders, actually, predominantly led by black queer women, transfolk and our allies. Just look at the leadership in almost every BLM chapter: Chicago (BYP), Minneapolis, Oakland, Los Angeles. The ‘ladies’ are already in formation.” So shouldn’t the music follow suit? If, as black music critic Greg Tate reminds us, hip-hop is “the voice of the voiceless,” and if BLM is, as he suggests, the revolutionary manifestation of hip-hop, it is only fitting that this modern movement would inspire urgent rap lamentations (J. Cole’s wrenching “Be Free”) and manifestos for living (Big K.R.I.T.’s “Soul Food”), as well as sort-of-black-feminist, sort-of-patriarchal tribute pieces (Big Sean’s well-meaning “One Man Can Change the World”).

The multifarious voices that make up BLM impel the art that accompanies the movement to be as capacious as blackness itself—and the current sound track offers new strategies, new scores, new narratives, new arrangements for protesting, resisting, and disturbing the political and socioeconomic subjugation of black and brown folk in American culture. The sonic performances of D’Angelo, Lamar, and Beyoncé drive these points home in distinct and powerful ways.
—  Daphne Brooks, Modern Protest Pop
flickr

CROCUS UP TO THE TEMPLE OF BELLONA by Alan Parish, March 2009 via flickr


June 3, marks the Roman festival to the goddess Bellona. Bellona is goddess of War in its most ferocious aspect, and the companion of Mars. Bellona’s temple in Rome was dedicated on June 3rd around 295 B.C.E. It was located outside the city walls, in the Campus Martius. It was used by the Roman Senate for meetings on declarations of war and the granting of triumphs. No remains of the structure have yet been discovered.


Kew Gardens, located in Richmond upon Thames, is part of the Royal Botanic Gardens and is London’s largest Unesco World Heritage Sites. The Temple of Bellona was built in 1760 as a monument to troops who fought in the Seven Years’ War.

Questions & Answers [Yandere! Chat Noir] [Reader-Insert]

The skies were grey and the soft patter of the rain hitting against the window of her room created a comforting sound. The wind howled and caused the tree branches to sway due to its ferocious speed. This caused a few tree branches to swat against her window making it seem as if someone was trying to break in. And occasionally, the booming sound of thunder was heard, and flickers of lightning was visible to the eye.   

It could be taken as two things: a scene from a horror movie and the anticipated killer appearing soon, or for just what it was – a description of a storm.

Of course, if it was the first scenario, the killer would be the one being killed. [Name] was aware of the lengths Chat Noir would go to for her and so, she knew exactly what he would do to someone who ever tried to hurt her. Whether he considered that ‘someone’ himself as well–was unclear.

Like she usually was when she was unfortunate enough to be in the presence of the possessive black cat, [Name] was overwhelmed with anxiety. Constantly, she felt her stomach twist in knots and her heart beating fast and prominently against her chest.

It was beginning to feel like a chore to live in this constant state of fear whenever he was around; and he had been around her a bit too much lately.

Chat laid his head in [Name]’s lap. His eyes were closed and he wore an expression of serenity. Moments ago, he was not content enough with his situation. This had caused him to grab [Name]’s wrist gently with his claws, and settle her hand in his hair. And so, presently, [Name] was combing her fingers through his hair, and occasionally, scratching the back of his ear which almost caused him to purr.

She felt him shiver in delight.

As she continued to brush her fingers through his hair, [Name]’s eyebrows furrowed and she chewed on her bottom lip–an action which conveyed her nervousness. She internally debated whether she should risk voicing the question which weighed down her mind. Depending on his mood, it would be one of the following outcomes if asked her question: 1) Chat would ‘punish’ her, or 2) she would receive a straight answer without any detrimental consequences.

It was a 50/50 bet, and hoping that luck was on her side, she decided to gamble with the devil.

She let out a deep breath before spoke shakily.

“Chat,” She began, and her voice trembled.

Chat hummed in response, signalling her to continue.

“D-Don’t you have something better to do?” She inquired, gulping. The direct bluntness of her question caused the blond to snap his eyes open, and peer at her deeply. His eyes spoke volumes but he did not utter a word. They were unreadable but one thing was clear: he waited for [Name] to continue. And depending her next words, it would be decided whether she dug her own grave, or did the right thing.

She felt sweat beginning to form at the back of her neck and her fingers which were brushing his blond locks, halted in their movement.

Realizing that it was too late to turn back now, she decided to elaborate, consequences be damned.

“I-I just meant t-that, you’ve been visiting here more often t-than before. Before, you s-said you were r-really busy in your c-civilian l-life? Y-Yeah that, and weren’t around as much. S-So, I was j-just curious,” She explained, glancing away from Chat’s nerve-wrecking gaze, and fiddling with her fingers.    

She did not even spare him a glance in fear of what she would find.

Chat moved his head away from [Name]’s lap and sat up, his tail exaggerating his movements by swooshing around as if it had a mind of its own.

His emerald eyes were calculating as he spoke.

“Do you not want me around?” He asked, and narrowed his eyes at [Name], observing her cautiously. The [h/c] female had frozen, her breath hitched in her throat and she flickered her eyes towards Chat.

As soon as their eyes met, [Name] felt a shiver run down her spine as she saw the intensity in Chat’s eyes which was directed at her. Simultaneously, the tranquility they shared before, had shifted into a heavy, silent atmosphere.

[Name]’s fingers began to tremble and her lips quivered. The sweat on her forehead glistened, and she visibly gulped, praying that she sounded composed and her voice would not betray her.

Inhaling and exhaling as if to calm her nerves, she forced a smile towards Chat, wishing that it was convincing enough.

“W-Why would you think that? O-Of course I want you around!” She stammered, as she continued to smile forcefully. Inwardly, she cursed at herself for stuttering, knowing that certainly, Chat would see through her.

Subsequently to her response, silence commenced. Chat’s stoic expression,  and his lack of responsiveness worsened her fear for the situation.

She felt her heart beginning to beat faster, and a very loud sound of the thunder boomed as if to emphasize the danger of the situation. With each passing second, the heavy silence seemed to manifest more and more, until it felt like it could be sliced with a knife.

However soon, it was broken by Chat.

“Okay,” He replied simply, and shrugged, before he crawled closer towards her.

At his response, [Name]’s head shot up like she was a deer caught in headlights.

“W-What?” She asked, confusion written all over her face because there was no way that Chat would have actually believed her hideous horrible lie.

Chat’s crawling ceased and he had sat right next beside [Name]. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist, and pulled her in his lap, causing her to yelp. [Name]’s hands landed on his shoulders, her breasts pressed against his chest.

[Name] gasped when Chat begin to nip at her neck and mumbled coherent words in between his nips.

“You lied to me again,” He whispered, his claws digging into her shirt harshly. He applied enough pressure with his claws to hurt her and cause her to whimper, but not draw out any blood Moments later, his harsh grip began to loosen.

“For now, I’m satisfied with you just being by my side,” He whispered, beginning to lift up her shirt.

[Name]’s shoulder tensed and her eyes widened.

“But eventually, you will learn to love me once more.


Masterpost