it's not at all how i invisioned when i set out

The Dragon Angus Theory

I don’t know how many people know about this particular TAZ Theory but I discovered it last night in the TAZ Subreddit. There are thread discussions about this here and here. There could be more but these were the two I found.

In summary, the theory in general pertains to the fact that Angus might not be all that he seems, and that he might be a dragon in disguise. Specifically a Silver Dragon. Under the cut because this came out really long! (Don’t worry there’s a tldr at the bottom)

Keep reading

prejudice in fantasy lit and the use of metaphor

reallybigshadowhunterstvfan said:

what can you say about making Simon a shadowhunter, Mrs Clare? it seemed odd to me that after a whole series of battling for equality between species/races, the downworlder had to become a shadowhunter. not only he basically ceased being a minority, he also became a part of a privileged community, and it just didn’t sit well with me.

Just for the record — I’m not Mrs. Clare; there is no Mr. Clare. I am married, but my pen name is not my husband’s property. :-) 

I think this is a very interesting question that brings up a ton of issues, but there are some aspects of it I’d love to clarify — for instance, I am puzzled at calling Simon “the Downworlder.” Is he more a Downworlder than Magnus? Things like that actually are really important when discussing stories — if he were the only Downworlder in the story, that would be one discussion, but he isn’t, and therefore his story does not speak for the experience of all Downworlders or even a small fraction. 

I am sorry you were surprised negatively by Simon’s story in TMI. Simon never wanted to be a vampire — he always hated it, and unlike Raphael and Lily, he never joined the community of vampires but instead spent all his time with Shadowhunters. Being a Daylighter had already changed him from being any kind of regular Downworlder, as did bearing the Mark of Cain: both made him even less “the Downworlder” and more of an anomaly. It also separated him from the other Downworlders, who treated him with distrust. In my experience, very few readers expected Simon to remain a vampire, given that it was something he never wanted or got used to, and that it was not his dream. More on that in a bit.

As to the question, to me the suggestion that Shadowhunters are “the privileged” and Dowworlders are as a block “the marginalized” — instead of being a complicated metaphor in which they sometimes but not always stand in for people who have had their rights curtailed —  overly simplifies the situation. It is an argument seems to ignore the fact that in fact, humans exist along axes of privilege and marginalization: that people can be privileged in one way and marginalized in another and that when Simon becomes first a Downworlder and then a mundane and then a Shadowhunter, he is not moving clearly from marginalization to privilege, but rather exchanging some types of privilege for others (he remains white as a Downworlder, and is a Daylighter), and exchanging some types of marginalization for others (the marginalization of being a Downworlder for the marginalization of being a mundane-born Shadowhunter and a Jew in a world where Shadowhunters are meant to have one religion). 

Because the argument disclaims spectrums of privilege and marginalization, it also suggests that the world of the Shadowhunter Chronicles is one in which there are no gay or POC or trans people in existence; one in which there is no racism, homophobia, ableism, cis privilege, or bigotry against the neuroatypical. But that is both problematic erasure, and also not true of these books. Downworlders don’t stand in for people of color or LGBTQ+ people because people of color and LGBTQ+ people are in the books; they have not been subsumed into metaphor. (I know the showrunners said there was no homophobia in the Shadowhunter world, only warlock-phobia, but that’s the show, not the books, and it has a different world and world-building. I notice this is a question I get since the show came out, and I sometimes wonder if it’s a question of confusion between the two different universes? It’s easy for that to happen.)

Fantasy prejudice metaphors are complex and confusing and they rarely work as a one to one comparison (in other words, there is a difference between saying that this fantasy situation is reminiscent of this real world thing and saying this fantasy situation is exactly the same as this real world thing. For instance, one of the really interesting things about True Blood is that it made many deliberate parallels between “vampire rights” and GLBT+ rights — referring to vampires “coming out of the coffin” and “God Hates Fangs” on church signs. However, its vampires were also often violent predators who killed and ate people. The argument that Simon “basically ceased being a minority” (while, somehow, remaining Jewish) is similar to making an argument that True Blood was saying that gay people kill and eat their neighbors; I’m fairly sure in fact, they weren’t. They were reaching for a resonance — the echo of a real world situation that would give a layer of relatability and meaning to their points about difference. But they were not creating a literal “these things are the same” comparison or they wouldn’t have had vampires chewing off people’s heads.

So: are Downworlders discriminated against? Yes, sometimes, by Shadowhunters, who are a small specific group. Do they “stand in” for a specific minority group? No, they cannot, because they are accessible as a metaphor to any marginalized group or groups whose rights have been abridged. Also: the world at large does not discriminate against Downworlders because they do not know they exist, nor do they privilege Shadowhunters because they don’t know they exist either. It would be one thing if this was a high fantasy and Shadowhunters and Downworlders were all there was, but these books are set in our world, and the characters experience real-world bigotry, racism, homophobia etc. because of it.

Alec sighed. “Sorry to wreck your vision of our happy family. I know you want to think Dad’s fine with me being gay, but he’s not.” 

“But if you don’t tell  me when people say things like that to you, or do things to hurt you, then how can I help you?” Simon could feel Isabelle’s agitation vibrating through her body. “How can I—” 

“Iz,” Alec said tiredly. “It’s not like it’s one big bad thing. It’s a lot of little invisible things. When Magnus and I were traveling, and I’d call from the road, Dad never asked how he was. When I get up to talk in Clave meetings, no one listens, and I don’t know if that’s because I’m young or if it’s because of something else. I saw Mom talking to a friend about her grandchildren and the second I walked into the room they shut up. Irina Cartwright told me it was a pity no one would ever inherit my blue eyes now.” He shrugged and looked toward Magnus, who took a hand off the wheel for a moment to place it on Alec’s. “It’s not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It’s a million little paper cuts every day.”

 *** 

“He hurt you. It was a long time ago, and I know he tried to make up for it, but—” Bat shrugged. “Maybe I’m not so forgiving.” 

Maia exhaled. “Maybe I’m not either,” she said. “The town I grew up in, all these spoiled thin rich white girls, they made me feel like crap because I didn’t look like them. When I was six, my mom tried to throw me a Barbie-themed birthday party. They make a black Barbie, you know, but they don’t make any of the stuff that goes with her—party supplies and cake toppers and all that. So we had a party for me with a blonde doll as the theme, and all these blonde girls came, and they all giggled at me behind their hands.”

***

If we carry the theory through (Shadowhunters are THE privileged, Downworlders are THE marginalized) that means that Alec, as a gay Shadowhunter, is more privileged than Simon, a straight vampire. That Ty, who would be locked in a mental institution if the Clave discovered his autism, is privileged beyond white, rich, immortal and powerful Malcolm Fade. It’s saying that when Cristina encounters a wealthy, white, straight, misogynist male werewolf in Lady Midnight who tries to force sexual attention on her, she, a Latina woman, is the one who is the privileged character because she is a Shadowhunter and he is a Downworlder (though Sterling has arguably, given that he lives outside the supernatural world, never experienced a whit of prejudice because of it.) So I’m sure you can see where the problem lies.

It also erases Simon’s Judaism entirely. Stating without caveat that Simon has become “part of a privileged community” means ignoring the fact that Simon is Jewish; that he decides in Tales that he will continue to practice, and that he was the only Jewish protag written by two Jewish authors that I’m aware of having been on the bestseller lists last year. He didn’t think about being a vampire as he was preparing to transform — he never wanted to be one or consented to be one, nor was he part of the community, as Raphael constantly pointed out — though he does later think of having previously been a Downworlder when interacting with vampires and Shadowhunter prejudices. He thought of the important thing to him: his Judaism, which he both couldn’t and wouldn’t give up. To me it is personally painful to think that for any reader, Simon’s status as a vampire is more significant than his status as a practicing Jew.

I think sometimes it is possible to invest yourself so heavily in a metaphor that you forget the real world that surrounds the metaphor and the flexibility of metaphors in general. The Shadowhunter/Downworlder situation could stand in for the systemically privileged and marginalized of our world: sometimes it does. However it also can stand in for the way totalitarian governments abuse their own people: there are echoes in Shadowhunter history and current events of the Cambodian genocide, of Stalinist violence against intellectuals and resistors. There are also echoes of police brutality — what Shadowhunters have is the privilege of the Law, specifically: the Law is what allows them to enact bigotry in the name of justice, and when they abuse their jobs, it has resonances of the way police can abuse their jobs and use the privilege conferred on them by their authority to murder and abuse the helpless and marginalized. There are also echoes of the way soldiers carry out immoral orders given by superiors: the Shadowhunters are taught to be obedient to the Clave, and one of the ways we know who our Team Good is in any TSC series that they question that obedience. All of these are echoes and resonances: they are not saying that the Shadowhunters are the police, or the US military, or the Khmer Rouge; the resonances provide context and hopefully add a sense of realism to a situation that is fantastical in its nature.

 (It’s also a wise idea not to so totally buy what the Shadowhunters are selling about themselves. They think they’re special and better and awesome, but the books constantly question and problematize that. Shadowhunters also pay a high high price for their runes and their sense of superiority: they die young and often and experience brutal constant violence and the pressures of a repressive society that allows for little divergence from an idealized norm.)

There are reasons that the Downworlders were never constructed to be a specific marginalized group and their situation was never meant to be limited in its relatability to one situation— for instance, it’s very hard to not look askance at the argument that Downworlders are meant to be specific “race” when you can become a Downworlder and then stop being one: when you can, as Simon does, change what kind of magical creature you are, because there is absolutely no correlation between that and what race or ethnicity means in our world. 

 So yes, Simon becomes a Shadowhunter: however, what I don’t see acknowledged here is not just his ethnicity and religion, but the fact that he becomes a Shadowhunter partly because he is aware of the prejudice of Shadowhunters, and fights against the bigotry they show not just to Downworlders but also to their own. He is part of Magnus and Alec’s Shadowhunter-Downworlder Alliance. He continues to work for change from within the system, arguably something almost no one else could do, because there are almost no other Downworlders who have become Shadowhunters. It is odd to me to consider Simon as simply ascending to a height of blithe privilege when he is fact much more like someone who has become a police officer in order to root out corruption and racism in the police, and brings his own knowledge of marginalization (which he still experiences) with him.

That is why Simon in Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy is constantly fighting and bending the rules in the name of his evolving social conscience, though I understand if you haven’t read TfTSA. One of the things about having had a flood of new readers enter fandom because of the TV show is that I’ve seen a lot of arguments based on the idea that TMI is the entire story of Downworlders and Shadowhunters, or the entire story of these characters. I see people talking about characters getting a happy or sad ending in TMI even when those characters go on to feature heavily in the sequel books and could by no reasonable account be considered to have any ending, happy or sad — unless you thought TMI were the only Shadowhunters books that existed rather than a chunk of a larger ongoing mythology. In no sense has Simon’s story ended: you have no idea if he will remain a Shadowhunter or not. Perhaps if you consider the fact that TMI is not a story that has ended for Simon, but rather one that continues, the fact that he has now been two magical species and might well move on to become another will sit less poorly with you? After all, this is not “after a whole series of battling for equality between species/races” this is “in the middle of a whole series of battling for equality between species/races.” Usually the middle of a story isn’t the place it’s best to draw all your conclusions from. :-) 

anonymous asked:

86 and andreil??

86: “Perhaps you’ll take me out one day — or do I have to make an appointment?” (I combined this with a prompt from foxpaws10 from ages ago based on this post, and I kind of warped both of your prompts i hope this is still okaaay basically it’s doctor andrew and that’s all u need to know)

His morning is a string of disasters that begins with covering the ER in the Sunday rush of hypochondriac elderly and fussy children. It’s one long stretch of kicked over paint buckets, a mess you can’t ignore, splattering the walls and getting on his shoes.

Andrew chose surgery almost entirely for the distance of it, the sterility of a room with a slab of meat, a tray of knives, and a sickness he can actually cut out.

He’s a doctor because he can be, and patients sometimes like that he doesn’t speak a word to them, like silence equals genius.

He likes that there are some patients that come into the ER unconscious and leave the OR unconscious, and all he has is a problem and a ticking clock. He always solves the problem. He thinks maybe it’s because he is one.

The sinking ship of his Sunday in the emergency room goes from slippery to debilitating with one patient.

Two showy ER doctors with their lab coats off and their sleeves rolled up go into the private room they’ve cordoned off, and they both come out looking pinched in the face with their stethoscopes clenched in their fists.

“He’s a fucking disaster,” one of them says, leaning up against the information desk with his eyes still pulling back to the closed door of the room.

“I know. I thought, I dunno. That the news was exaggerating.”

Andrew tilts his head and listens without making any move to leave his post, filling out inane charts as illegibly as he can.

One of the residents chances a look at him and Andrew makes a point of catching him. The guy startles, then juts his chin.

“Maybe you’ll get along with him, Minyard. He’s as crazy as you.”

“You’ve mistaken the hospital for a playground,” Andrew says mildly. “Give me his chart.”

“What?”

“His chart.”

He looks at his friend, mouth slack, and then the one holding the chart holds it out like a dirty rag.

“He’s Boston’s starting striker,” he stage whispers. Andrew takes the clipboard and ignores him, scanning the details. “We’re not supposed to let any patients know.”

“That Neil Josten is causing a scene ten feet away from them?” he says, and the men titter uncomfortably. “Why should he get the luxury of privacy?”

“How did you—“

“The news is available to everyone, Bryant, you fuck.” He rounds the desk and makes for the closed and shuttered room, dropping the chart in the receptacle outside.

“He shouldn’t be allowed to practice,” someone says behind him, and then someone else, softer, scornful: “surgeons”.

Andrew wrings the door knob and finds himself abruptly face to face with the singular most swollen person he’s ever seen. He’s obviously bolting for it, his gown gaping at the neck and someone’s stolen shoes jammed on. Andrew scans the defiant face, the shock of red hair, the near invisible trail of blood from an incorrectly removed IV.

“Sit down.”

“No.”

Andrew watches Neil Josten— and it is him, one of the handful of strikers on Boston’s team and certainly the most newsworthy — size him up. His eyes run the same circuit Andrew’s would if he were looking to fight his way out: door, threat, surreptitiously behind him for a weapon, back again.

“I’ll drug you,” Andrew says simply. Neil’s good eye, the one that isn’t purpling, goes narrow.

“Are you allowed to say that?”

Keep reading

It’s a bit more complicated than invisibility...

This occurred to me and I feel it’s worth posting since I’ve never seen any talk on this?

The One Ring doesn’t make you invisible. 

Why would it? Seriously, what purpose on Eru’s green earth does that serve? Sauron forging his ring of power in the heart of a volcano, thinking to himself, ah yes, invisibility would be a good trick to build into this thing! No. Cause you know what? Sauron’s ring does not make him invisible. And he certainly did not intend for anyone else to ever have it. So what’s it really doing?

Two words: Dimensional shift

I believe that when mortals put on the ring, they experience a dimensional shift in which they are pulled (stretched, transported) into a higher dimension, the plane on which the true spirit forms of the Ainur (and wraiths) exist. This would effectively render them invisible to those on lower dimensions, but the wearer would be able to view them with altered enhanced perception. Such as the effects we witness as described by those who have worn the ring. Especially well portrayed in the films is the ability to see the souls of others, particularly the ringwraiths (the battle on Weathertop is a good example, as well as even in Battle of the Five Armies when Bilbo is in Dale), black and white shadowy souls clear as day but invisible to the naked eye, as they exist on a different dimensional plane. It’s quite possible to me that the ëalar of the Ainur are in a higher dimension than that of mortal fëar, but that’s beside the point. They’re at least a couple dimensions removed from our reality, and thus invisible until one puts on the ring. 

Now, why would the ring have this power? I think, if I recall correctly, that Tolkien at one point did state that it was not intentional, that it was a byproduct of its making. Again, it does not turn Sauron invisible - it wouldn’t, he already exists on that plane. Mortals are bound to their bodies and so would not be able to perceive that higher dimension, but Ainur are not. I think most plausibly, this effect exists because Sauron infused a piece of his own soul into the one ring. The consequences of this are not well understood (it’s not like it’s a common practice) and we know in other ways, it is so strong in its desire to hearken back to its master, it can even influence the wills - a product of the souls - of those around it. I would not be surprised in the slightest if having a piece of Ainur ëala in an all-powerful object would result in the ability to bend reality to attempt to match the wearer to the properties of the owner. It would bring the wearer closer to Sauron, and allow him to perceive them, thus furthering its purpose to return to the whole from which it is a part. 

Just a theory, obviously, but I find it odd that I’ve never seen anyone question the rather absurd notion of ‘magic evil ring makes you invisible!’ Tolkien set up so many intriguing questions, concepts, and possibilities with underlying scientific principles - or at least, consistent rules - that I am sure this fits into his framework. 

anonymous asked:

is having a ginormous fat peen a deal breaker for you? yano cuz u short

Anonymous looked up at the sky, not trusting the colour smeared upon the horizon. Horizons could be misleading, they knew. Horizons could convince you it was still daylight, even when the whole of the sky arced above you in a sprawl of midnight. Looking forward was not always enough. Sometimes, you had to look up. 

Directly above Anonymous, the moon cut its teeth into the clouds, drawing blood and bruising the darkness with its waxen light, waning at the edges. It was time. 

They did not have long. The witch had told them, as she reluctantly handed them the bag of herbs, that the spell would only be useful for the minute or so that the moon was at its highest. The minute was upon them. 

Fifty five seconds left. 

Cursing themself for having lost track of time, Anonymous reached into their trouser pocket and pulled out the little drawstring bag. With hands shaking in anticipation, they emptied the contents into the small well they’d dug into the earth all those hours ago, and covered it back over with dirt. Fingers crossed behind their back, they stepped away and waited.

It did not happen immediately. Magic takes time, the witch had said. Magic does not come to you when you ask for it; it comes to you when it’s good and ready. You can cast all the spells you like, scatter all the herbs and make all the offerings, but magic cannot be summoned - only tempted. 

The seconds ticked by, and Anonymous waited.

This had been a long time coming, they reflected. They had waited too long for the taste of power on their lips. They had been too long distant from how it felt to be in control. They had learnt too early their place in the world, and they had too soon come to rue it. The chasm between want and have had grown inexorably bigger since the day they were born, and now they were here. 

The mound of earth did not move. Anonymous thought about the time they had first felt insignificant - the first time they had realised that they stood small in the face of all things - and counted the seconds. 

With ten seconds left before the spell died, the magic came. 

Magic has no face, has no body. It takes no form and it holds no weight. The witch had told Anonymous this herself. Magic simply is; it is because no other word will do, but it is not. It cannot be, and has never been, and yet it is. 

When Anonymous thought about it, it was all rather complicated.

Best, then, not to think at all. Best to give voice to thought and make it speech. 

Anonymous cleared their throat and began. 

“I suppose you’re wondering why I summoned you here - ” 

I was not summoned. 

They flushed, the soundless sound surprising them even though they had been expecting it. Do not fear the voiceless voice, the witch had warned. It speaks, and is silent. The words are only half your own. 

Breathing slowly, they tried again. 

“No, of course not. Sorry. I’m not - I haven’t used magic before.” 

And you still have not. I am not here to be used. Say what you would have, and I will do the same. This is not a service. This is a trade.

“Right. Yes. Sorry.” They inhaled, exhaled. This was the only chance they would have to resolve the conflict that had been the shape of all their life. This was the resolution of aporia; of feeling as though they deserved everything, yet having nothing. Of knowing that they should be free, but being everywhere in chains. Of wanting, and of not having. “I want to feel powerful.” 

In what sense? Power is not all-encompassing. The queen ant is powerful to the workers, but weak to the heel of the boot. What power would you hold? Do you seek to command nations, or to master the arts, or to take another as your own? 

Anonymous considered how best to formulate their response before replying. Precision was key here. The witch had made it clear that magic would grant you what you asked, whether or not it was exactly what you wanted. 

“I’m tired of being silent,” they said eventually. “I’m tired of being unable to say whatever I want. I’m sick to the teeth of thinking all these thoughts - great thoughts, too; thoughts that could topple cities and part seas - and being forced to keep them to myself, all because other people think that their own feelings are more important. Well, what of my feelings? What of feeling inadequate? What of the weight of being told to keep silent? Do they know what that does to a person?”

As they spoke, they could feel their heartbeat rise, pumping and roaring in their ears, in their veins. “Sorry,” they added. “I’m getting carried away. But to answer your question - I want to have the power to speak my mind.”

In all things?

They contemplated it. “Yes. In all things.”

The silence was real for a few moments before it became illusion.

I can help you.

“And will you?” 

Yes. It will require exchange, however.

At these words, Anonymous could hardly contain their excitement. “Anything. I’ll give you anything.” They took their purse out from their other pocket, and held it out towards the mound. “I have money. I have a house, too, but that’s back in town. You mightn’t like it there. My neighbours - ”

I would have your face.

Anonymous faltered. “My what?”

Your face. That is my offer. I will give you unlimited and unprecedented power to speak your mind. All thoughts you have will be given voice, and you will never again be forced to turn away from speaking aloud what you have always been taught to keep silent. In return for this extraordinary power, I would take from you your face, and in so doing I would give myself form and body. You would never again be silent; I would never again be invisible. 

“But wouldn’t I suffer without a face? How would anyone know that it was me who was speaking?” Anonymous asked, wringing their hands around their purse. 

I have named my payment. Now I would name my price. The price of this power is thus: the knowledge that all thoughts you give voice to will be dampened by your lack of face. That everything you ever say to another will be tempered by your lack of identity. That no-one will again know whose thoughts you speak; only that you do speak, and in all things. 

There was nothing for it. They would have to decline. They could not accept these terms. What power came at such a price, after all? What king had ever ruled his country with no name or face? What lover had ever made another theirs with no identity? 

All the times they had been asked to hold their tongue; all the times they had been scolded for speaking their mind; all the times they had uttered the wrong words at the wrong time and had suffered for it: all this had been for nothing. 

Although, Anonymous admitted to themself, the thought did appeal on one front, and one front alone. It was undeniable that a certain freedom was gained by completely giving up one’s identity. After all, who could be held accountable for a deed when the deed was done by one with neither name nor face? Who would they scold when the words that were given were not the words that were wanted? Who would suffer when the things said were not things that people wanted to hear?

Only those who heard them, of course, and not the one who spoke them. 

And immediately, ashamedly, wonderfully, the decision was already made, had perhaps been made years ago. 

“It’s a deal.” 

You agree to the payment and price?

“I do. Take my face, and give me the power I seek.”

The deal is struck.

And then the moon, which had begun to falter at its peak, was suddenly once more at its highest. The minutes had been returned. 

Hand trembling, Anonymous reached up to touch their face, only to find that, of course, there was no face. Where their image had been - the folds of their mouth, the curve of their nose - was now smooth and featureless. There was nothing there at all.

“Are you happy?” came a voice from behind them. 

Anonymous whirled around, and came face to face with their own face, worn by another. “Who are you?” they asked, and a thrill chased up their spine at the realisation that there was no fear behind these words at all. Their voice did not falter. The question was biting, crystalline.

“I am Magic,” replied the impostor, “given form by our deal. Is it to your satisfaction?” It cocked its head inquisitively, Anonymous’ old eyes seeking validation in their new setting, and Anonymous felt powerful. They were looking at their old self - their weaker, voiceless self - and they were free.

Anonymous drew a deep breath in before responding. “is having a ginormous fat peen a deal breaker for you?” they asked.

Magic blinked. “I don’t understand.” 

“yano,” continued Anonymous, “cuz u short.”

“Why are you saying that?” asked Magic, eyes darting left to right in placid uncertainty. “I don’t understand. I gave you what you wanted. You could say anything you wanted, and no-one would ever hold you accountable. You could take a lover with intricately crafted sonnets, bend ears with your scintillating rhetoric, and yet you choose - ”

“is having a ginormous fat peen a deal breaker for you? yano cuz u short,” interjected Anonymous, feeling giddy and drunk with power.

Magic blinked again. “You have the choice of a thousand languages, billions of words - ”

“is having a ginormous fat peen - ”

“Sometimes,” Magic interrupted, “silence is the more powerful weapon after all. I could undo what I have done, but I think it best not to bother. Some people will never learn. I wish you luck with all things, and may you one day find your power useful, for it will not aid you in the pursuit you have chosen.”

With that, Magic was gone, and Anonymous’ face was lost to them forever. Now alone, Anonymous looked gleefully at the small mound of earth that had been their salvation. They thought of all the things they would say tomorrow, and they smiled.

At least, they would have smiled, had they been able.

Far away, Magic rolled its new eyes, and decided to write a sonnet. 

Queer Self-Presentation and Burlesque Auto-Sexuality in Yuri Plisetsky’s “Welcome to the Madness”

PHEW! It’s finally ready for ya! 

Thanks to everyone for patiently waiting. I was overwhelmed with the response to my teaser post about this meta. I’m sorry it took so long to finish… I had to write the academic version for class, then rewrite it to be tumblr-appropriate (I’m still not sure that it is, constructive criticism is welcome!)

I’m hoping that this will contribute to the ongoing conversation about underage characters in fandom, and am looking forward to your asks. I’m a little nervous to be tossing my hat into the Otayuri discourse, but I hope I won’t catch too much hate.

I took out footnotes but included the bibliography at the end. If you have any questions about specific references, send me an ask or DM :)

Enjoy!

(2272 words)

Keep reading

Magic, or Magick?  Witchcraft, or...

If all of the similar names and phrases that float around witchcraft posts confuse you as much as they have confused me in the past, I submit to you my personal method for understanding the difference between everything:

Disclaimer: I am a solitary eclectic witch with a highly personal craft, and the definitions that follow are my own personal understandings of each word or phrase.  

  • Magic is the energy that vibrates between everything.  It is the primary energy that witches use to perform magick. 
  • Magick is the transmuted energy that witches send out when they are performing magick. 
  • Performing magick is the act of using invisible energies and forces to alter the world as you wish to alter it.
  • Witchcraft is learning to use magic (and other energies and forces that you are familiar with) to perform magick, and then actually performing magick with a personal flair.
  • Practicing magick or witchcraft is the act of having it become an integral and embedded aspect of your life.
  • Spellcraft is learning how to properly use a spell or type of spell for your own personal craft, and then actually using the spell to perform magick.
  • Spells are usually the main method that witches use to perform magick.  Spells can be viewed as magick enhancers or carriers.  I view a spell as being a way to organize the magick being performed so that it is more concentrated and focused when it is sent out.  
  • A type of witchcraft is any sort of witchcraft that has some overarching connection.
  • A path of witchcraft is any type of witchcraft that operates under a set theme.
  • A way of witchcraft is any type of witchcraft that operates under a set of rules.
  • To cleanse something is to remove all negative energies from it.
  • To purify something is to convert its existing energies into its original pure form.
  • To charge something is to feed it with energy that may or may not have been imbued with a specific essence and intent.  You can charge it with unused magic.
  • To enchant something is to magickally give it a specific task.
  • To place a glamour is to magickally affect how something is viewed.
  • To charm something is to magickally cause it to attract or repel something. 
  • A charm can either be a spell to charm something, or a charmed object, depending on the context that the phrase is used in.
  • An amulet is an object (often charmed) object that is meant to repel evil, bad energy, or anything negative.
  • A talisman is an object (often charmed) that is meant to draw power. Talismans are usually connected to the other realms.

That is all that I have at the moment, but I will add more or create a Part II once my understanding of other similar terms grows a little bit.  In the mean time, you are welcome to use these definitions if they work for you.  I hope that y’all like it!  ^_^

Lost and found

[Post 5x23 spec fic]

This is me processing the last few minutes of that finale because it’s the only way I’m making it until October. Enjoy!!


Just in case…. Just in case… Just in case…

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the destruction ripping apart the island, the island that seemed to never stop taking from him, as her voice echoed in his head. That innate protectiveness that drove him was screaming at him to move, to save them— somehow save them, no matter how irrational it seemed that there was a chance they were still alive, but it was like all the oxygen had left his body when Chase pulled that trigger. His body felt heavy, his feet glued to the spot as he clung to his son. The one part of him he knew for certain he hadn’t lost and couldn’t bear to let go of for even a second.

“Oliver…” William croaked, “Dad?”

The sound of his shaking voice unfroze him and he dropped to his knees to look him in the eye. He couldn’t find the capacity to form words yet, shock still numbing his brain as explosions continued to echo through the air, so he just squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Like he had done so many times with Felicity when words failed him.

He tried not to think about the words he should have said to her before he let her walk away. Words he might have forever lost his chance to say.

William’s eyes drifted over his shoulder to the fire blazing on the shore, “My mom… is she…”

“I don’t know.” He wouldn’t give him false hope, wouldn’t placate him with, “she’s going to be okay,” wouldn’t assure anything else that he couldn’t be certain of. He had already made that mistake. Pain, the kind he never wanted his son to feel and would give anything to spare him from, flickered in his eyes as his small hand grasped his arm tightly.

Just in case…

The coms. He was afraid to try, afraid to be met with silence. Closing his eyes, he tapped that spot over his heart.

Keep reading

creideamhgradochas  asked:

Could you do 067: "I came home to a Nerf gun on the front porch and a note that says ‘Here is your weapon. I have one too. Loser cooks dinner. Good luck. xo’" from the 101 Fluffy prompts with Bucky please?

Why of course I can!!! And I am so fucking sorry this took a century and a half to post. I’m a horrible person. xxx

Originally posted by gliceria

Home Sweet Nerf Gun

Bucky came home to see an offensively bright, neon pink and orange nerf gun on the front porch. Just laying there all innocently on the doormat (the doormat says ‘Welcome! Beware of husband, cat is shady, wife is cool though’). With a curious grin he climbs the three porch steps and halts before the gun that has a small torn piece of scratch paper perched on top of it. It reads in your familiar script: Here is your weapon, I have one too. Loser cooks dinner. Good fucking luck xo.

Bucky right out cackles when he sees your P.S - ‘p.s you should not have taught me how to snipe baby’

Keep reading

Daddy’s girl | JUGHEAD JONES X BETTY COOPER | SMUT PT ONE

REQUESTED IMAGINE!  @myterribletwenties  so it can start like when Betty and Jughead start taking things further, they start teasing each other in public as part of a bet of who can drive the other crazier to the point of no return, you know? It can be a smut series of like him pleasure-torturing her and vice versa until they finally have fun and kinky sex. I can see Betty being the one who drives Jughead craaaazy but idk it’s up to you on who you’d want to win. 


[ I kinda go with the plot anddd yeaa lets see what happens ] 

A/N: First thing first. I want to say how sorry I’am because I had an amazing vision towards this imagine but sadly I cant write it like I wanted to because I don’t have enogh time for anything. And I know you wait so long for it and 
I am so angry at myself that I didn’t give myself 100% for it. And its kinda making me sad and depressed = smad .
But I just hope you will like it. And tell me if you don’t like something. 

WARNING(S): Dirty language, swearing, smut af, daddy kink, teasing and mentions of smoking’ Betty Cooper is a SAVAGE  mentions of southside serpents like if we care. and mentions of Bryce Walker u know him. 
not edited yet

CHARACTER(S): Jughead Jones x Betty Cooper (mom and dad) 

Don’t read if you're under 18 (lmao just kidding again) 


Having an unspoken bond can mean a lot of things. Many people have the tendency to throw the term around to lovers, friends, and sibilings without knowing the genuine and authentic meaning behind it. 

Although, a meaning doesn’t have to be one with words. In fact, I believe a word that is expressed stronger through emotion is more meaningful that a word know by it’s definition from a world-know dictionary application just a click away. 

An unspoken bond can be shown in action, words, even colliding lips. It’s by the way they lean towards you a bit more to make you feel safe and secure. It’s by the way they know that you’re saying when your eyes are the only ones speaking. 

It’s magical. Yet, it’s the most dangerous and hear-on-the-line bond, because putting your entire self into one’s trust goes either ways: they hold onto you for dear life, or they let you burn. 

Now of course, I only came to think of this deep shit at half past one in the morning. I can’t sleepm and I don’t know whether it’s because I’ve had too much coffe to drink or because of this beautiful sight snoring his fucking brains out beside me. 

I slowly slide Jughead’s arm from around my waist to his side, slipping out of the sheets as quietly as I can. Before walking to the door, I slide off my pants, leaving me in my panties and shirt. Finally. I feel alive again. 

As the cold air hits my thigs, I stretch my back and walk to Jughead’s slightly open room door, slipping out with dangerous tip-toe’s. 

The only light coming from the darkness of the house is the single kitchen light hanging over the counter. I walk down the stairs, going straight for the fridge. 

I lean against the cold metal, scanning through the beverages until my eyes spot a familiar one. I grab two bottles of milk, settling them down slowly on the counter behind me. 

I latch the fridge back within itself before I take a seat on one of the stools surrounding the counter. Why I’m drinking milk at almost two in the morning? I don’t know. Am I enjoying it? Yes. The answer is always yes. 

I hear certain footsteps skipping down the stairs, soon revealing the undoubteddly messy dark locks and shirtless skin belonging to no other that him. I sit up straight, watching as he walks closer to me. 

My eyes meet his, though we both don’t speak. Instead, he grabs the bottle of milk sitting in front of me, eyes still not leaving mine as he chugs a good amount of it down his throat. His hand goes up to wipe the remaining around the corner of his mouth before he sets it down. Talent, my friends. 

I watch his naked back walk to the highest cabinet, reaching up and shoving off his toned body, muscles and all. I’d lick cake off him any time, any where. 

He reaches down after grabbing a small white box, still giving me his back as he fumbles with it. I assume it’s a cigarette box when he reaches for the lighter, the clicking sound of it evident through the quiet house. 

I turn my stool completely around to face his back, leaning elbows behind me as I watch him put the cigarette in his mouth, blowing it in the air towards the celling. I shouldn’t find this to describe for words, but in my defense, he can make a hot dog consume look hot. 

The smoke emitting artistically from his pouted pink lips, his naked skin glowing due to shine of the moonlight entering the house through windows and cracks. He’s beautiful annd he’s mine. 

Leisurely, he begins inching closer to me, the cigarette held between his fingers almost like it’s meant to be there. I can only imagine the times he’s smoked invisible to my presence. Does he smoke when he’s stressed? When he’s bothered? I crave knowing, even the littlest things about him. 

“What’s on your mind, princess?” his throaty voice inquires, suspending smoke into the air overlooking him. 

“Honestly,” I chuckle, “just you.” 

In swift seconds I feel his body is between my legs, a strong hand grabbing ahold of my head, fingers lacing into the roots of my hair. Tilting my neck to his liking. I feel his lips come into contact with mine tightly. The sudden action takes me by surprise, making me gasp. 

The way his lips move along makes me dizzy. I crave the way he latches his wet lips with mine so desirably like the last thing on his mind is letting go. 

My arms go around his waist in instinct, pulling him closer if even possible. His tongue enters my mouth, caressing and exploring, triggering a moan to escape my lips. Our lips keep a perfomance, heating the clousure of our bodies. 

His kisses become lower in pace, teasing me as he bites my lower lip, breathing into my mouth. I almost feel my knees buckling right then and there.. 

Jughead pulls away but keeps his lips at close proximity to mine, panting heatedly into my partet one’s. I gain feeling to his toned body pressed against mine, the sultriness radiating off his naked chest and shoulders. 

“Babe,” I mumble, pulling him back by waistband of his sweatpants, connecting our lips back together. 

I feel a chuckle escape his lips before his sweet taste fills my mouth once again. Peppering my sweet repeated kisses onto his lips, a smile forms onto his mouth. God, I could do this all damn day. 

“Baby,” he mumbles between kisses. “Let’s go for a ride,” he suggest, both of his hands easing from my hair and settling onto the sides of my neck, drawing shapes onto the naked flesh. 

“What?” I furror my eyebrows curiously. 

“I wanna take you somewhere,” he pulls back, confidence filling his posture and satisfaction in his words. He disposes the cigarette into the bin beside him, licking his lips afterwards. “Right now.” he determinates. 

Dammit, Jughead,” I groan. “I swear if it’s some new twenty four hour taco place like the last time, I’ll personally make sure you die mid-orgasm.” 

Ah, the true meaning of pleasure and pain. You know wha’d be funny? The cause of death: died halfway through coming. Lame ass. 

You know what’d be funnier? Saying “I’m glad you could come,’ to the guests at the funeral and having them reply. “Too bad your boyfriend didn’t.” 

I may or may not go to hell for the things I think at two in the morning. 

“Oh come on baby, now that’s just mean.” he shakes his head, faking sadness. 

I might be in love with him now but the urge to kick him in the balls hasn’t left since the day I met him. 

“It’ll be worth it, I promise and I can’t belive I’m gonna say this but I’m gonna go get you something to throw on, give me a sec,” he raies his finger, disappearing into his room up the stairs. 

Not even a minute later, he comes back with his torso fully clothed and his shoes on, carrying a pair of sleeping shorts I’ve left here once and my shoes. 

“I’ll go start the car, don’t be late,” he hands me the clothing pices, placing a sweet kiss to my forehead before he grabs his keys from the counter. 

I wiggly my feet into the shorts and pull them up, watching them hang loose and wide around my waist. Messily putting on my shoes, I follow him to the car, making sure to lock the door behind me. 

“You good, princess?” Jughead asks, holding onto the steering wheel. 

I shut the door, smiling in response. He does a double take, smilling at me in a question before he speaks. “Can I ask you something?” he inquires geninly. 

“Of course,” I lean into the seat. 

“You always had your hair up– when we met I mean, now you always have it down. You said you liked it up, but that wasn’t the case wasn’t it?” he smiles widely. 

A wide smile conquers my lips at his theory. It’s incredible how much he notices. I turn to him, my cheeks beginning to burn from smiling too widely. “Just drive, butt boy,” I fold my arms over my chest. 

“Your hair’s your guard, itsn’t it? You let your guard down for me, that’s why you let yourself wear it down around me.” he smiles, eye glistening and all. 

I let out breathy chuckle. “What can I say? You took my breath away.” 

He chuckles as he shaking his head in response. I hear him kick off the engines and begin his drive to whatever he want’s to take me at two in the morning. 

The streets are quiet, almost dead. I’ts crazy how at the same exact time right now at different places around this same place, everyone is in bed and possibly in the same position, asleep. 

The quietness echoes like seas of tranquility. My mind dozes off whike my body falls into the comfort of his warmth filling the car. I lean into the seat, making myself comfortable as i feel like this would be a long drive. 

Five minutes into the drive and I’m already feeling the need to throw myself outside this window. I cannot take this. 

Although the silence is comfortable between us, I can’t seem to get my mind off everything that’s happened right on the hood of this car. 

God damn, I remember is so clearly. His fingers, his talented, long, pleasureable fingers. They could do wonders, and I can’t keep my eyes off them tightened around the stirring wheel. 

I feel my mouth begin to gape apart, and so I shock myself back into reality, trying to focus on anything but the talented things he could do with that body. 

I sit up straight, sighing out in frustration before leaning towards Jughead’s side of the seat. I move my hand and place it on his thigh. “Jug,” I groan, gradually moving my hand upwards. “Where are we going?” I rub my thumb in circples into his inner thigh, seeing his arms tighten around the wheel and his back shoot up straight. 

“Almost there, princess,” he answers sternly, turning the wheel to a complete left. My hand stays on his thigh, mindlessly caressing his cloth covered skin. 

The car comes to a halt on the side of an unfamiliar road. There doesn’t seem to be life anywhere around a five block radius from this place. 

The lack of houses tell me this place itsn’t familly friendly. I can also tell from the strip club in the corner of this area. 

I look at Jughead in confusion, waiting for an explanation. He nods his head to me and unlocks the car doors, stepping out as he looks both ways. 

I follow his lead, stepping outsid of the car and going to Jughead’s side. Immediately, he takes a hold of my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine tightly before he starts walking, pulling me with him. 

Walking around the unknown area, Jughead’s hand hasn’t decreased in tightness. His eyes wander around the place every seconds before he pulls me closer. I only hope he isn’t planning on feeding me some jungle animals or something like that. 

We reach a gate, a big black one at that. Jughead uses his free hand to pull it up, giving me lovely viev of his perfectly build biceps. He holds it up, nodding at me to cross under. I do as told, waiting for him to cross under with me. 

The loud bang of th gate’s latching to the ground floor startles me, making Jughead to pull me to his side, rubbing his thumb over our already laced hands. 

“I’ve got you,” he unsures, moving us to another door located in the corner of the area into the gate. 

This place give me the chills. I don’t like it. 

I move behind Jugead’s shoulder, leaning my head against him as he contemplates the lock of the door. 

Presently enogh, I hear an opening sound. 

“Jug, you’re kinda scaring me,” I admit hesitantly, moving my head from his shoulder. 

He doesn’t reply, but squeezes my hand. A gesture that makes me wanna melt into him once again. 

We walk into a hallway, showcasing one the other gate door right in the center. 
Jughead turns to look at me, giving me a smile before his hand moves to push open the door. 

My mouth almost falls open as my brain registers the place I’m in. A wide open stadium with a fighting rink located in the middle of it. The largeness of the room is wide enogh to create schoes. 

I see blood scattered around the dirt floors, making me flinch to think about Jughead. An old bar is set in the left corner, seats for audiences are placed all around the rink, fitting more that three hundred people just for sitting. 

“Welcome in Southside S.” Jughead’s free arm opens wide, a smirk forming onto his lips. His movements come to a stop making me stand alongside him, taking in the area. 

“Those two weeks ago, when you didn’t go to school at all,” I turn to him, my hand still in his. “This was where you were?” I raised my eyebrow in pure curiosity. 

“Yes,” he nods. 

“Everytime you left, you were here?” i furrow my eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” he smiles sadly. “I don’t regret not telling you about this. I knew it’d kill you, and I knew you’d try to stop me,” he shrugs, pushing his body closer to mine. 

“What’s his name?” I asked  

He shook his head closing his beautiful eyes for a moment “Bryce.. I have to fight with him, for my mom sake, babygirl” 

I let go of his hand, taking both of mine and wrapping them around his waist. He takes no time to bring his arms around my neck, rocking me back and fourth gently. 

“It’s not worth it Jughead.” 

“Look at me,” he mumbles, pushing his body even closer to mine. I keep my eyes down, not trusting myself to look into his. “Look at me.” he demands, pulling my chin up with his fingers. 

I bring my head up, eyes to eye with an angel in disguise, “He did some bad things, baby. He hurt my mom really bad” he states gritting through his teeth. 
“I will do anything for my familly and you. And I have to do this, especially if it’s something to ensure your satety.” 

“How many fights do you have left?” I inquire, barely a whisper in his ear. 

“Its not important. You know what, I’ll make fucking sure he doesn’t breathe your way either.” 

“Can I come?” I ask, pulling away from his hold with a wide smile on my face. Oh the things I’d do to watch Bryce get beaten up. 

“No,” he says immediately. “No, absolutely not,” he shrugs. 

“Come on,” I roll my eyes. I drive my lips to the base of his neck, kissing my way softly up to his jaw. “I promise I’ll be good. I just wanna watch Walker have his ass handed to him” I chuckl. “And think of all the ways I can wish you luck.” I tease. 

“That’s not gonna work princess,” he chuckles, kissing my temple gently. “Let’s go back to the car,” he sighs, re-intertwining my fingers with his. 

I exhale our frustration, knowing well enogh Jughead wouldn’t change his mind for shit. 

We stroll out of the place easily. Jughead locking the gate behind us before we make our way to his car. 

I slide into my seatt, folding my arms and rubbing my thigs together. Thoughts about have been swarming my mind the moment we left the house and I can’t seem to get rid ot them now. 

The way his strong tanned arms hold onto the wheel, as tight as his hands wrap around my thigs. The way he licks his lips when he’s focused, oh fuck, the things he could do with those lips. 

I feel the heat between my legs begin to increase as my stomach knots in frustration. I need his so bad. I’m afraid I’ll moan if he does as much as look at me. 

I keep my silence, breathing out gently and keeping my thigs tightly pressed together. Jughead doesn’t seem to notice my squirming beside him, although I’m about to explode in a few seconds. 

Minutes pass by my mind and eyes haven’t left his flawlessly sculpted body since. We get closer to his house but he slows the car down, making me groan out in vexation. 

“What is it baby girl?” Jughead speaks, turning his head to look at me with a smirk plastered clearly on his face. 

“Hm?” I attempt to look in wonder, my hands crossed over the obvious wet patch now sinking from my panties into my shorts. 

Suddenly, the car comes to a stop. Jughead’s hands harshly move from the gear before he turns his position coming forward and leaning both his arms on either side of my seat, hovering over me. 

“Tell me,” he whispers demandigly, his eyes moving from mine to my lips. Jughead licks his lips, making my heart thump resoundingly against my chest almost loud enogh for him to hear. 

I look up into his dominant eyes staring deep into mine. He doens’t move his gaze, demanding an answer. 

Sighing. “I need you,” I mumble inaudubly, looking down to my lap. 

“Come again, baby?” he teases with a tilt of his head and smirk evident on his lips. 

“I need you, please,” I whimper, locking my eyes with his. 

Holding himself to my side with one hand, he uses the other to wrap around the side of my waist, rubbng the skin softly as he gradually moves his hand lower. 

“Tell me what you want,” he traces his fingers in a ticklish motion towards my lower waist, wrapping his hand around the material of my shorts. 

Anything, just please,” I breath out, throwing my head up at the lack of contact

His hands abruptly moves to the center of my shorts. Jughead starts to move my underwear to the side, very slowly at first showing off my wetness clear and dripping for him, watching slosely to see my reaction. 

I groan at the cold air hitting my area, wanting any sort of friction against my sensitive throbbing area. 

“Look at you,” he chuckles, sliding his middle finger up and down my slit, spreading my wetness painfully slow. “Such a mess for me,” his voice deepens, lust filling his intentions as he slides a finger into my etrance, making me shift in pleasure in my seat. 

His eyes don’t leave mie, demanding me to keep my stare on his. His thumb joins his workings, pressing and rubbing onto my vulnerable spot. “Does this feel good, baby?” he purrs, panting heatedly into my lips. 

I feel his hard on growin into the tightness of his jeans , making me bite my lips surprising a moann too emit from my mouth. I may or may not faint. 

“Mhmm,” I pant, starting to feel my climax build up. My stomach starts to form a knot of frustration, driving me on edge. 

Adding another finger, he fastens his pace, eyes still not leaving mine. His lips sloppily fall onto mine, the wetness and heat of his mouth parting my lips unknowingly. 

Uhh, I’m so close,” I whimper , feeling myself come to an edge. My high almost rides onto me when I feel his fingers pull out. He leans back into his seat and begins to drive, leaving me a complete and utter mess. 

Hot and bothered. I pant out loudly, bitting my lip in frustration. I rub my thigs harshly together once again. “Fuck you Jug,” I moan, shuffling in my seat. 

“Patience is a virtue, princess,” he smirks, fastening his driving speed. 

I move my shorts and underwear onto my highly sensitive area, wanting to feel any sort of release or friction against it. 

Minutes pass by feeling like hours when he finally puls the car back to his house. I angirly push open the door, coliding it back again with it’s frame strongly before I march to the front door. 

I open the door with ease, taking off my shoes and throwing them beside the kitchen place. Fuck. I’m gonna kill him. 

I hear the car noise indicating he’s locket it, soon following by his footsteps entering the house and closing the door behind him. He throws the keys onto the counter, eyeing my bothered and panting self with a snigger plastered onto his face. “Something bothering you, baby?” he fake pouts. 

“You know what, fine!” I put my hands up, shrugging “I’ll do it myself!” I huff, turning arund to march ip the stairs. 

I walk into Jughead’s room, purposely leaving the door wide open. I slide my shorts down my legs, pushing them aside with my feet before I place myself onto his bed. 

The previously messy sheets give me a feel of Jughead’s presence, driving me crazier that I have been minutes ago. He’s gonna pay for this. 

I lean myself over again the headboard, shutting my eyes closed and throwing my head back. I feel my back arch when I let my hand reach contact with my white lace covered wetness. 

This is the only time I’ll thank Jughead’s dad for leaving him here alone. 

I rub myself, humming in satisfaction. I move my legs upwards, pulling off my panties and shoving them onto the floor. I keep my eyes closed, my hands in-between my thigs over my bundle of nerves. 

I hear Jughead’s footsteps come closer by the second, getting me excited. I moan loudly, wanting to grab his attention. And no doubt, seconds later, his body appears at the front of the door, his eyes plastered onto my pleasuring hand. 

He bites his lips, coming closer to the edge of the bed. Jughead leans forward, placing his face right in front of my knees, his eyes filling up with lust and passion. 

I spread my knees apart, openin up my legs and shoving myself to him completely. He groans at my dampness licking his lips. 

The cold room air touches my heat, and the shine of the moonlight made it glisten somewhat. I know he couldn’t resist the sight of me at such an angle. 

He brings his face closer to my opening. I feel his hot breath panting in lust as I moan in complecency. 

I trace a finger up and down my slit in front of him, smiling to myself when I see his eyes widen in their desire for me. I play around the patch of wetness moaning when I press into it. “Jughead,” I moan, knowing well enogh how to tease him. 

Jughead’s stare fixates right onto my area as my fingers playfully spread the folds apart. “I want you so bad, baby girl,” he groans, palming himself though the tightness of his clothing. 

I take his pleas, drawibg out a long groan when I play out myself for him. 
“I thought patience’s a virtue, baby?” I smirk 

He watches intensively as I roll the pad of my pointer fingers around my swollen sensitivity, giving me a sensible feeling of pleasure. I can’t lie how much I want him. So badly. 

My teeth tug my bottom lip hard, trying to repress a groan at the sight in front of me. Jughead lustfully and beautifully begging. What a beautiful sight. 

My body feels like it’s on fire and I could feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I close my legs tightly in exasperation, wanting nothing more that feel relase, to feel him. 

I feel the heat of his panting at the top of my thighs, making me throw my head back at the close proximity of our bodies, with no satisactory contact leading to pleasure for either of us from one another. 

“Open up for me, princess,” he demands, eyes darkly looking into mine, gently caressing his free hand over the sides of my thigh. 

“What are you gonna do if I don’t? Punish me?” I reply back sarcastically arching my back in order to tease him. 

“Oh no, baby,” he smirks, pushing himself up on the bed, hovering over my entire body as our faces come lining each other. His hands keep him up, makin his veins pop out artistically from his biceps down to his arms. 

“I don’t punish. In fact, I’d like to make it up to you, princess” he tilts his head, licking his lips painfully slow for me to watch. 

“And how are you gonna do that?” I murmur, letting my lips brush onto his. 

Let my hands move to his neck, holding it lightly as I let my fingers play with the ends of his hair. 

“I plan on apologizing. First with my fingers,” his raspy voice speaks promisingly,” he places a featherlike kiss onto my top lip. 

“And finally,” he grinds his hardness onto my spread legs, making me whimper. 

His lips move to my neck, kissing so distressingly slow down across my jaw, licking and nibbling at the skin. 

I pant heavily while he hums against the base of my throat. “I’m gonna make you come so many times, you’ll be begging me to stop,” he smirks. 

Jughead cocks his head up. His hand moves to my jaw, holding it lightly. I feel his thumb come in contact with my lower lip, brushing his thumb over the soft skin roughly from one side to the other. 

“— and you’re gonna love every second of it, right princess?” 


tell me if you liked it loves!

@sunshine51879@isntskatesatan@dempsey-mantle@jellybeanjoncs
@sweetvengeancee@archie-puppydogeyes-andrews@soninetynine
@arkhamasylumpatient-blog1@little-weirdo-13@lustfulskam@amyyleblanc1999@killjoyloki@annoyingsibling@voidobsession​ 
@krazyk99@kamriiiii​  @  treasurebey @dreaming-of-the-lost
@katshrev@baasooreexiiaa @lookingforgranger 

The Virus (Extended)

I wrote this again because I believed I could expand the story and see how it go.

***Logs of the late Admiral Elfre”

Personal log 1. I got accepted into the coalition military only as a simple deck serf my main duties are cleaning the vents of vermin that somehow make it onto the ships and breed. I also run messages, it’s good exercise but most of the officers don’t even look at me, I’ll show them I’ll make admiral in not time.

Personal Log 6. After helping engineer Lopya with the engine after being stuck in dead space for nearly a week I was promoted to bridge officer, I mainly work the coms console but it is a step in the right direction, i cant wait. 

Personal Log 8. One of our explorer ships has found a new planet, this one is apparently unique and has all our scientists really excited. Not sure how it is unique because I always thought every world in the galaxy was unique but apparently this is one is special. My colleagues are talking about nothing else I might actually keep an eye on the com traffic to see what the fuss is about.

Personal Log 9. Well I read some of the com messages ( I know I’m not supposed to but curiosity got the better of me) and this new world everyone is going crazy over is apparently the only world which can truly be classified as a “Dead World”  But life is not only surviving apparently its thriving. They think their might be intelligent life there, even if the air is toxic and the plant life poisonous and Maker only knows what the animal life is like. I shudder to think of what could survive there.

Personal log 13. The explorer team has gone missing, they were researching a new animal that lived in huge hives and it is believed the creatures may have discovered them. Not sure how I thought they were using this new cloaking technology that makes them invisible? Could these creatures see through it?

Personal Log 14. Workload today was insane, more com traffic than ever, our fleet is being redirected. But on the bright side if I make a good impression the captain might put me on course for deck officer level 2? I can only hope.

Personal Log 16. I’m not sure if this is good or not but our fleet has been chosen to search for that research team that went missing, why we should when we are an explorer fleet not a military fleet. I mean, we only have  handful of actual soldiers on each ship, but then orders are orders.

Personal Log 17. I think I may have made a mistake, the captain wanted a coms officer to go and record to rescue and like an idiot I said I’d do it before I truly thought about it. I’m going to a “Dead world” to find people. I want to live long enough to have wife’s and spawns I don’t want to to go somewhere where i might die. Well I can’t back out now, at least Major Jesa gave me a handgun to use in  case.

Personal Log 18. We landed on the planet at the researchers last known location, we found their base, it was hidden inside one of the hills over looking a herd of fluffy animals that made off “Bahhhh” sounds as they saw us. They were not hostile luckily, we assumed they were prey animals, wee went off to complete our mission. We found one of the trackers the researchers use sot hey don’t get lost, it was badly broken so the log could not be accessed, we bagged it kept on.

Personal Log 19 The nights here are cold, really cold. We set up air tight tents so we did not have to sleep in our suits and even with the heaters we were all shivering. Private Getr joked this was worse than the time he fought against some snow like monsters on a world going through an ice age. i could tell he was not joking, i hate this place.

Personal Log 20. Private Getr’s suit was split yesterday, some plant that has spikes cut his suit and he died in moments, he never had a chance to even seal the split. A pair of his comrades volunteer to take him back to the shuttle and off they go, we are three men down. 

Personal Log 21. The rain, so much rain, I mean it’s not unusual for water to fall from the sky but this is just crazy, we all agree not to out today.

Personal Log 22. We saw the natives, or at least what we think are the most dominant natives here. There were three of them, small and running around in one of the fields playing I think, is that playing or were they fighting for dominance? they were quite small and talked to each other in odd clicking noises. Then the older appeared, far larger than their young, they appeared out of the trees not far from us, then one of them started sniffing the air, no way could they smell us could they? We quickly left before we were discovered. But not before we saw the Hive, it was larger than any city I have seen, how many of these creatures were there.

Personal Log 23. Finally some other sign of the research team, an tent, only one but it’s a sign. We call inside but there is no answer, we slowly make our way inside and find what we feared we would.  A body, His skin was the same as privates Getr’s when his suit split, he was holding a note though all it said was. “Run!”

Personal Log 27. Well I’m glad that’s over with and i can get back to my life, that world is now off limits to everyone now and is under strict quarantine level 10. The first planet to get that level. They even named it Kila, apparently it means death in one of languages spoken in the coalition.   

Personal Log 30. Since my mission to Kila I have gain more responsibility and just yesterday they are giving me my own ship!! It’s only a snall support ship with a few hundred crew but I’m excited. Captain Elfre, i like the sound of that.

Captains Log 36. I’M BORED!!!! This support ship gets almost no mission, all we do is patrol and help the larger ships move into formation, I want a bigger ship!!!! Or at least something to break the boredom.

Captains Log 38. A whole quarantine fleet went missing a couple of days ago, I instantly knew which one before i even heard the planets name, it was Kila. By the Maker have they made it off the that planet? More fleet are being directed and we are on standby if we are needed. I have a feeling we will be.

Captains Log 40. We are needed, the fleet is heading to the quarantine Kila zone.

Captains Log 41. The quarantine is breached the creatures have built ships and a lot of them, these hive ships were scanned and found our own technology on board. They are using our warp drives, did they figure out of they were built? How? Are these things sentient? We take up position to bar their path and we simply stare at each other, we send message after message to try and open a dialog but there is no response. Then over all our coms, a noise like screaming, is that Getr? Are they in my head? Only one word is truly heard. Hooman, our enemy has a name.  The Admiral orders us to open fire and we unleash our weapons upon them, huge pulse cannons and missiles with enough yield to scorch a planet. Nearly all miss. How could they miss and those that hit seemed to only cause minimal damage. Wait are..their ships healing themselves? We scramble to reload and open fire again but the Hoomans fore first, we don’t recognize what kind of weapons they are using but they cut right through our armor, the flagship goes down having been hit by three separate enemy ships. The other captains are screaming orders or trying to regain some kind of control, I shout over the coms that I cam taking command and order the retreat. The war against the Hoomans, has begun.

Captains Log 50. The Hoomans are spreading and spreading fast, every engagement is the same, they break into real space, our coms go haywire and our fleet gets wiped out. We need a different strategy.

Captains Log 54. I have been given command of a new battleship, it is to be the new flagship of a invasion force into Hooman space. Our scientist have theorized that the Hoomans work on a hive mind command structure and if we wipe out the their main hive world Kila the rest will fall into chaos. I don’t know how they can know that as to my mind no Hooman has been captured alive or dead. But I am eager to go on the offensive for once.

Captains Log 55. Our first victory!!! We engaged the Hoomans on the edge of their space and wiped them out, we left the planet as we needed to save our resources for the homeworld but it felt good to drop a few nukes down there. We can do this, we can win!!

Captains Log 57. The Hoomans never seem to run out of ships, we have assembled the largest fleet in the galaxy and that has got their attention, their advance into our space has halted. I have their complete attention, and that terrifies me.

Captains Log 58. We lost half our ships in the last battle and the flagship is heavily damaged we have taken refuge in an asteroid belt to make repairs but the Hoomans are looking for us. They always know where to find us, they always know.

Captains Log 60. I can only engage the Homans one more time before I have to retreat and i am nowhere near their homeworld of Kila, they always seem to have more ships. The last engagement were boarded by them, I have seen every kind of species in the galaxy and we are all different, some are fast, some are strong, some are smart and so on. But never have I seen a race like them. They only have two arms and two legs which is the lowest number of any rce and it seems to work to their advantage. I saw on the security cameras our soldiers fight them in hand to hand and the Hoomans just danced around them. They moved like water and hit like avalanches, our new directive was never to engage them in close combat, you’d never win. Not that shooting them seems to work either, my bridge was breached by them and i shot one in the head with my pistol and it barley flinched, if it wasn’t for a guard with a blaster i would have been dead. Sadly that moment of saving my life cost him his own, he was hit my one of their weapons and his whole body evaporated. Not sure what is a worse way to die, being touched by one of these things or shot. This invasion is over, I’m ordering the retreat.

Captains Log 62. 2 months, that was all the time I bought while invading their space and once more they are on the offensive, consuming world after world and terraforming it so only they can live there. Trillions are now dead and how much further will they spread before they burn themselves out.

Captains Log 65. Our leaders are panicking, the surviving races are merging all their resources in some attempt to turn this tide. Our pleas of surrender and mercy go unanswered except for the usual response of the com screaming. But on some lighter note I go promoted to Admiral, my life long goal was achieved only because my predecessor shot himself when his homeworld was consumed by the Hoomans, his mate and youngling did not make it of world in time. They now expect me to win this war for them, I don’t know if I can but I am going to try.

Admirals Log 1, My first engagement as an Admiral with the race known as Hooman has ended in our utter defeat, we exited hyperspace right on top of them and they reacted as if they knew we were coming. Are these creatures just super fast or can they see the future? We retreated to Elixal Prime but my few remaining ships will not be enough to hold them off for long. I have already began evacuation but there are not enough ships, they will be here soon,

Admirals Log 5, Elixal Prime is lost, the moment the first of their hive ships arrived we had to abandon any hope of rescuing the population. I can only imagine what horrors they will face. We heard their screams over the com as we left.

Admirals Log 13. I have implemented a scorched earth policy, any world we cannot protect or have to retreat from is scorched to make sure they can’t use it. It will slow them at least.

Admirals Log.16 It did not stop or slow them, in fact it made terraforming the planet for themselves easier so we have abandoned that tactic.

Admirals Log 22. They are spreading faster now, faster than we can track them its like a damn has broken and their entire race is now searching for new worlds to consume. Do they eat their worlds? Is that why they are expanding? for food?

Admirals log 29 the Hoomans have conquered half the galaxy and there are too few of the surviving races with the ships to even try and stop them. Some are talking about surrender. How could we? These creatures are so deadly that even one setting foot on a planet spells disaster as if their whole body was made to house millions of viruses. My old friend was touched by one once, I’ll never forget what happened to him. His skin burned and fell off he bled form every part of his body, his screams, they still haunt me.

Admirals Log 40. Me and the other admirals have agreed that this war cannot be won, we have but one hope, all the survivors of the coalition have gathered in one system. There are only 50 billion left out of a population of thousands of trillions. But our scientists have built a war winning weapon, a huge beam cannon that can destroy fleets. It is very experimental as if uses the power oft he sun to fire. The plan is to use it to defend against the Hoomans in this system indefinitely, let them have the galaxy surely they will let us have one small system?

Admirals Log 50. I was wrong about the Hoomans letting us live here, because here they are, but there is only one hive ship just sitting there watching us. My ship is placed directly opposite it, Im sure i can take on one ship but I know, that silently out there, his friends are watching. Once more our coms go nuts, i turn it off, i have had enough of listening to the sounds of my comrades die over and over again. I open fire and before the munitions hit the Hooman hive ship turns and enters hyperspace. He’ll be back.

Admirals Log 60. The Hoomans are back and it seems they have brought their entire fleet with them, My fleet has over 5000 ships of varying classes and the new solar cannon we built. Just a little closer, i oder the cannon to fire and millions of miles behind my fleet the solar cannon unleashes the power of the sun at the Hoomans. Then…wait? No this is not possible the Hooman fleet is moving and a new kind of ship is taking the lead…it’s huge almost the size of a moon and it is moving to intercept the beam. The solar cannons beam hits the new hive ship but…it does not do what they said it would. It is supposed to destroy the ship then the beam jumps tot the nearest ship and destroys that one and so on. But the ship is…is…absorbing it? the light is dancing around the hive ship and then suddenly fires from the tip, oh no it’s heading for one of the planets! It hit the planet the solar cannon was orbiting and it erupts and breaks apart. 20 billion souls all gone in an instant. Screaming I order to open fire, all 5000 ships unleash our firepower at the Hoomans, with so many ships and so many targets it’s hard to miss. The battle last only an hour. 

Admiral’s log , We’ve lost, our final stand began an hour ago, 3 thousand ships gone, in an hour!!! How could such a race even exist? I sit here reading reports of what their world is like, no wonder they turned out like they did out of all the worlds in the galaxy this one has to be the most hostile one. I’m not going down without a fight though.

Admiral Efre grabbed his rifle and locked his log in the hopes that it might be found by someone who could read it and remember the struggle the galaxy went through. Perhaps in a couple of millennia when the Hoomans have died out. The Hoomans were cutting through the door now, his soldiers all got to their feet and readied their rifles. The pride he felt for them, even in their final moments they were defiant, even though there was nothing and no one left to save.

The door blasts open and we open fire, like before the Hoomans shrug off our shots like they were pebbles, a few go down but it doesnt stop the others. The run into us and…and? They’re not killing us By the Maker they want us alive! Are they going to eat us? One grabs me with its gloved hand and forces me to my knees alongside my soldiers and another enters like the others of it’s kind inside a sealed suit. It lowers itself to look me in the eye and raising a visor to show it’s face.

They’re disgusting, their faces…the proportions are all wrong and only two eyes? How could they see so well with only two eyes? The nose is pitiful in size I can only imagine how strong it was. And the skin, it looks wet like oil, is it acid?

Finally it speaks and the words put the chill of death into me.

“We were only trying to say hello”

The Virus (Extended)

***Logs of the late Admiral Elfre”


Personal log 1. I got accepted into the coalition military only as a simple deck serf my main duties are cleaning the vents of vermin that somehow make it onto the ships and breed. I also run messages, it’s good exercise but most of the officers don’t even look at me, I’ll show them I’ll make admiral in not time.


Personal Log 6. After helping engineer Lopya with the engine after being stuck in dead space for nearly a week I was promoted to bridge officer, I mainly work the coms console but it is a step in the right direction, i cant wait. 


Personal Log 8. One of our explorer ships has found a new planet, this one is apparently unique and has all our scientists really excited. Not sure how it is unique because I always thought every world in the galaxy was unique but apparently this is one is special. My colleagues are talking about nothing else I might actually keep an eye on the com traffic to see what the fuss is about.

Personal Log 9. Well I read some of the com messages ( I know I’m not supposed to but curiosity got the better of me) and this new world everyone is going crazy over is apparently the only world which can truly be classified as a “Dead World”  But life is not only surviving apparently its thriving. They think their might be intelligent life there, even if the air is toxic and the plant life poisonous and Maker only knows what the animal life is like. I shudder to think of what could survive there.

Personal log 13. The explorer team has gone missing, they were researching a new animal that lived in huge hives and it is believed the creatures may have discovered them. Not sure how I thought they were using this new cloaking technology that makes them invisible? Could these creatures see through it?

Personal Log 14. Workload today was insane, more com traffic than ever, our fleet is being redirected. But on the bright side if I make a good impression the captain might put me on course for deck officer level 2? I can only hope.

Personal Log 16. I’m not sure if this is good or not but our fleet has been chosen to search for that research team that went missing, why we should when we are an explorer fleet not a military fleet. I mean, we only have  handful of actual soldiers on each ship, but then orders are orders.

Personal Log 17. I think I may have made a mistake, the captain wanted a coms officer to go and record to rescue and like an idiot I said I’d do it before I truly thought about it. I’m going to a “Dead world” to find people. I want to live long enough to have wife’s and spawns I don’t want to to go somewhere where i might die. Well I can’t back out now, at least Major Jesa gave me a handgun to use in  case.

Personal Log 18. We landed on the planet at the researchers last known location, we found their base, it was hidden inside one of the hills over looking a herd of fluffy animals that made off “Bahhhh” sounds as they saw us. They were not hostile luckily, we assumed they were prey animals, wee went off to complete our mission. We found one of the trackers the researchers use sot hey don’t get lost, it was badly broken so the log could not be accessed, we bagged it kept on.

Personal Log 19 The nights here are cold, really cold. We set up air tight tents so we did not have to sleep in our suits and even with the heaters we were all shivering. Private Getr joked this was worse than the time he fought against some snow like monsters on a world going through an ice age. i could tell he was not joking, i hate this place.

Personal Log 20. Private Getr’s suit was split yesterday, some plant that has spikes cut his suit and he died in moments, he never had a chance to even seal the split. A pair of his comrades volunteer to take him back to the shuttle and off they go, we are three men down. 

Personal Log 21. The rain, so much rain, I mean it’s not unusual for water to fall from the sky but this is just crazy, we all agree not to out today.

Personal Log 22. We saw the natives, or at least what we think are the most dominant natives here. There were three of them, small and running around in one of the fields playing I think, is that playing or were they fighting for dominance? they were quite small and talked to each other in odd clicking noises. Then the older appeared, far larger than their young, they appeared out of the trees not far from us, then one of them started sniffing the air, no way could they smell us could they? We quickly left before we were discovered. But not before we saw the Hive, it was larger than any city I have seen, how many of these creatures were there.

Personal Log 23. Finally some other sign of the research team, an tent, only one but it’s a sign. We call inside but there is no answer, we slowly make our way inside and find what we feared we would.  A body, His skin was the same as privates Getr’s when his suit split, he was holding a note though all it said was. “Run!”

Personal Log 27. Well I’m glad that’s over with and i can get back to my life, that world is now off limits to everyone now and is under strict quarantine level 10. The first planet to get that level. They even named it Kila, apparently it means death in one of languages spoken in the coalition.   

Personal Log 30. Since my mission to Kila I have gain more responsibility and just yesterday they are giving me my own ship!! It’s only a snall support ship with a few hundred crew but I’m excited. Captain Elfre, i like the sound of that.

Captains Log 36. I’M BORED!!!! This support ship gets almost no mission, all we do is patrol and help the larger ships move into formation, I want a bigger ship!!!! Or at least something to break the boredom.

Captains Log 38. A whole quarantine fleet went missing a couple of days ago, I instantly knew which one before i even heard the planets name, it was Kila. By the Maker have they made it off the that planet? More fleet are being directed and we are on standby if we are needed. I have a feeling we will be.

Captains Log 40. We are needed, the fleet is heading to the quarantine Kila zone.

Captains Log 41. The quarantine is breached the creatures have built ships and a lot of them, these hive ships were scanned and found our own technology on board. They are using our warp drives, did they figure out of they were built? How? Are these things sentient? We take up position to bar their path and we simply stare at each other, we send message after message to try and open a dialog but there is no response. Then over all our coms, a noise like screaming, is that Getr? Are they in my head? Only one word is truly heard. Hooman, our enemy has a name.  The Admiral orders us to open fire and we unleash our weapons upon them, huge pulse cannons and missiles with enough yield to scorch a planet. Nearly all miss. How could they miss and those that hit seemed to only cause minimal damage. Wait are..their ships healing themselves? We scramble to reload and open fire again but the Hoomans fore first, we don’t recognize what kind of weapons they are using but they cut right through our armor, the flagship goes down having been hit by three separate enemy ships. The other captains are screaming orders or trying to regain some kind of control, I shout over the coms that I cam taking command and order the retreat. The war against the Hoomans, has begun.


Captains Log 50. The Hoomans are spreading and spreading fast, every engagement is the same, they break into real space, our coms go haywire and our fleet gets wiped out. We need a different strategy.

Captains Log 54. I have been given command of a new battleship, it is to be the new flagship of a invasion force into Hooman space. Our scientist have theorized that the Hoomans work on a hive mind command structure and if we wipe out the their main hive world Kila the rest will fall into chaos. I don’t know how they can know that as to my mind no Hooman has been captured alive or dead. But I am eager to go on the offensive for once.

Captains Log 55. Our first victory!!! We engaged the Hoomans on the edge of their space and wiped them out, we left the planet as we needed to save our resources for the homeworld but it felt good to drop a few nukes down there. We can do this, we can win!!

Captains Log 57. The Hoomans never seem to run out of ships, we have assembled the largest fleet in the galaxy and that has got their attention, their advance into our space has halted. I have their complete attention, and that terrifies me.

Captains Log 58. We lost half our ships in the last battle and the flagship is heavily damaged we have taken refuge in an asteroid belt to make repairs but the Hoomans are looking for us. They always know where to find us, they always know.

Captains Log 60. I can only engage the Homans one more time before I have to retreat and i am nowhere near their homeworld of Kila, they always seem to have more ships. The last engagement were boarded by them, I have seen every kind of species in the galaxy and we are all different, some are fast, some are strong, some are smart and so on. But never have I seen a race like them. They only have two arms and two legs which is the lowest number of any rce and it seems to work to their advantage. I saw on the security cameras our soldiers fight them in hand to hand and the Hoomans just danced around them. They moved like water and hit like avalanches, our new directive was never to engage them in close combat, you’d never win. Not that shooting them seems to work either, my bridge was breached by them and i shot one in the head with my pistol and it barley flinched, if it wasn’t for a guard with a blaster i would have been dead. Sadly that moment of saving my life cost him his own, he was hit my one of their weapons and his whole body evaporated. Not sure what is a worse way to die, being touched by one of these things or shot. This invasion is over, I’m ordering the retreat.

Captains Log 62. 2 months, that was all the time I bought while invading their space and once more they are on the offensive, consuming world after world and terraforming it so only they can live there. Trillions are now dead and how much further will they spread before they burn themselves out.

Captains Log 65. Our leaders are panicking, the surviving races are merging all their resources in some attempt to turn this tide. Our pleas of surrender and mercy go unanswered except for the usual response of the com screaming. But on some lighter note I go promoted to Admiral, my life long goal was achieved only because my predecessor shot himself when his homeworld was consumed by the Hoomans, his mate and youngling did not make it of world in time. They now expect me to win this war for them, I don’t know if I can but I am going to try.



Admirals Log 1, My first engagement as an Admiral with the race known as Hooman has ended in our utter defeat, we exited hyperspace right on top of them and they reacted as if they knew we were coming. Are these creatures just super fast or can they see the future? We retreated to Elixal Prime but my few remaining ships will not be enough to hold them off for long. I have already began evacuation but there are not enough ships, they will be here soon,

Admirals Log 5, Elixal Prime is lost, the moment the first of their hive ships arrived we had to abandon any hope of rescuing the population. I can only imagine what horrors they will face. We heard their screams over the com as we left.

Admirals Log 13. I have implemented a scorched earth policy, any world we cannot protect or have to retreat from is scorched to make sure they can’t use it. It will slow them at least.

Admirals Log.16 It did not stop or slow them, in fact it made terraforming the planet for themselves easier so we have abandoned that tactic.

Admirals Log 22. They are spreading faster now, faster than we can track them its like a damn has broken and their entire race is now searching for new worlds to consume. Do they eat their worlds? Is that why they are expanding? for food?

Admirals log 29 the Hoomans have conquered half the galaxy and there are too few of the surviving races with the ships to even try and stop them. Some are talking about surrender. How could we? These creatures are so deadly that even one setting foot on a planet spells disaster as if their whole body was made to house millions of viruses. My old friend was touched by one once, I’ll never forget what happened to him. His skin burned and fell off he bled form every part of his body, his screams, they still haunt me.

Admirals Log 40. Me and the other admirals have agreed that this war cannot be won, we have but one hope, all the survivors of the coalition have gathered in one system. There are only 50 billion left out of a population of thousands of trillions. But our scientists have built a war winning weapon, a huge beam cannon that can destroy fleets. It is very experimental as if uses the power oft he sun to fire. The plan is to use it to defend against the Hoomans in this system indefinitely, let them have the galaxy surely they will let us have one small system?

Admirals Log 50. I was wrong about the Hoomans letting us live here, because here they are, but there is only one hive ship just sitting there watching us. My ship is placed directly opposite it, Im sure i can take on one ship but I know, that silently out there, his friends are watching. Once more our coms go nuts, i turn it off, i have had enough of listening to the sounds of my comrades die over and over again. I open fire and before the munitions hit the Hooman hive ship turns and enters hyperspace. He’ll be back.

Admirals Log 60. The Hoomans are back and it seems they have brought their entire fleet with them, My fleet has over 5000 ships of varying classes and the new solar cannon we built. Just a little closer, i oder the cannon to fire and millions of miles behind my fleet the solar cannon unleashes the power of the sun at the Hoomans. Then…wait? No this is not possible the Hooman fleet is moving and a new kind of ship is taking the lead…it’s huge almost the size of a moon and it is moving to intercept the beam. The solar cannons beam hits the new hive ship but…it does not do what they said it would. It is supposed to destroy the ship then the beam jumps tot the nearest ship and destroys that one and so on. But the ship is…is…absorbing it? the light is dancing around the hive ship and then suddenly fires from the tip, oh no it’s heading for one of the planets! It hit the planet the solar cannon was orbiting and it erupts and breaks apart. 20 billion souls all gone in an instant. Screaming I order to open fire, all 5000 ships unleash our firepower at the Hoomans, with so many ships and so many targets it’s hard to miss. The battle last only an hour. 

Admiral’s log , We’ve lost, our final stand began an hour ago, 3 thousand ships gone, in an hour!!! How could such a race even exist? I sit here reading reports of what their world is like, no wonder they turned out like they did out of all the worlds in the galaxy this one has to be the most hostile one. I’m not going down without a fight though.

Admiral Efre grabbed his rifle and locked his log in the hopes that it might be found by someone who could read it and remember the struggle the galaxy went through. Perhaps in a couple of millennia when the Hoomans have died out. The Hoomans were cutting through the door now, his soldiers all got to their feet and readied their rifles. The pride he felt for them, even in their final moments they were defiant, even though there was nothing and no one left to save.

The door blasts open and we open fire, like before the Hoomans shrug off our shots like they were pebbles, a few go down but it doesnt stop the others. The run into us and…and? They’re not killing us By the Maker they want us alive! Are they going to eat us? One grabs me with its gloved hand and forces me to my knees alongside my soldiers and another enters like the others of it’s kind inside a sealed suit. It lowers itself to look me in the eye and raising a visor to show it’s face.

They’re disgusting, their faces…the proportions are all wrong and only two eyes? How could they see so well with only two eyes? The nose is pitiful in size I can only imagine how strong it was. And the skin, it looks wet like oil, is it acid?

Finally it speaks and the words put the chill of death into me.

“We were only trying to say hello”

anonymous asked:

You're my fav fic writer here <3 so I wanted to ask if you also take prompts that are not from the list? If yes, please please please could you write a fic in which lola kidnaps andrew along with neil to baltimore? (or he just somehow ends up there)

(i lov u thank you sm, also this prompt is fucked up I had FUN)

Neil’s face is so sunken with grief that he’s barely recognizable. Andrew watches cooly as Nicky jokes with him, the energy of the team cascading down and off of Neil, water off an indifferent umbrella. This is not the same man who was buoyant with a fresh win half an hour ago, who holds exy in higher regard than his own life, some days.

Andrew crosses to him, siphoning Neil’s attention away from the action of the room to him, just him, their eyes hooked together.

“Thank you,” Neil says, his mouth trembling. “You were amazing.”

Andrew searches his face, waiting for more. The room around them feels hazily separate, his attention is pulled to every flicker of Neil’s eyes, every shape his mouth makes. Something is giving out like a rotting support beam, Andrew can feel the collapse as if it were happening in his own body.

He catches Wymack gesturing from the corner of his eye, and the foxes fall into line. Neil keeps holding Andrew’s gaze the way someone might watch their home disappear on the horizon as they drive away.

He turns on command, though, body held too casually to be genuinely at ease, walking in tandem with the men bracketing him.

Andrew levels Wymack with a dismissive look and turns on his heel to follow Neil to the parking lot, his heartbeat out-pacing his footsteps.

He watches the bobbing heads of the man in the reflective vest and his colleague guiding the team through a simmering crowd. A bottle careens past Aaron’s head and Andrew looks blackly out in the direction it was thrown from. His eyes return to Neil, and because he’s watching, he sees the moment the crowd swells and Neil is grabbed hard by the wrist.

Andrew starts running immediately, pushing his way through a crowd that feels more like the tumultuous surface of an angry ocean. He trips over a slippery bottle and clips a 6 foot tall Bearcats fan, who tries to punch Andrew and gets his hand ripped at the seam of his fingers for his trouble. The crowd is a firing squad pointed at him, but Andrew braves it without hesitation.

He loses sight of the shiny vest and Neil’s flaming hair, almost tripping again on a duffel bag upended in the street. He kicks viciously at it before realizing it’s Neil’s, his racquet dropped two feet away. It’s like a crime scene, like the gunpowder left in the wake of a ripping bullet.

Andrew scoops the racquet up and breaks into a flat-out sprint with it held in front of him, using its length to rake the crowd out of the way. They break, more interested in self-preservation than the spirit of revenge. Andrew gets a clear view of Neil’s shoulder being wrenched around, his face contorting with anger as he’s stuffed into the back of a highway patrol car.

“Stop,” Andrew calls, voice raised. He skids into the parking lot just as the door is closing on Neil, and four sets of eyes swing towards Andrew. He sees Neil mouth ‘no’ as a woman with an unhinged grin cranes around Neil, sizing Andrew up.

“Who’s this, Junior?”

Keep reading

The Robin Cave

It’s Batfam week! Here’s today’s fic, based on the prompt ‘family’!

Tagging: @speedypan @laundrymoney

(Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this week!)

**

*

*

    Damian sprints for the yard, the kitchen door slamming closed behind him, almost completely muffling Bruce’s shouts for him to come back here this instant. Barefoot he runs through the soft green grass until he passes into the cool shade of the woods, acorns and gnarled roots jabbing at his feet.


    He isn’t pursued, he knows, but he keeps running to escape the tight burning in his belly, the frustration at his father’s asinine ‘rules’ sizzling like acid in his lungs. There’s fire in his chest, like he’s a dragon barely containing a flame behind his back teeth. He wants to scream and fight and kick as if he’s trapped in a box, but lashing out at his family never ends well for anyone. And so, he runs.

Keep reading

infinity train

[steve trevor x reader]

author’s note: i’ve been trying to play around w/ more abstract writing lately, and i’m not gonna lie, this is probably the most abstract thing i’ve ever written, to the point i don’t even know what to make of this anymore. i can’t write lolol what is writing 

word count: 1,385

Keep reading

SEX TAPE

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

Request: could you please do an imagine where justin and y/n went for jog on the mountains in cali and when they reached to the top in a private space justin fucked y/n against some tree or whatever but a pap saw them and recorded it while y/n and justin never knew. and when y/n and justin are done fucking they went home and saw it on the media of fucking etccc.. you do the rest 😊 LOLOL IK THIS IS A STUPID IDEA😂😂😂

Its unedited so excuse any mistakes. And sorry for the wait, but im back Bitches!

Originally posted by selgomgifs


***

The padding and crunching of our feet atop the layers of gravel that littered the familiar trail, accompanied by the early morning birds singing a sweet melody was just as sweet as candy to a child. It was a sugar rush. 

But in compose to a sugar rush for a child, it was adrenaline rush for myself.

The sunlight seemed to dance during this early spring morning. To weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. This morning, the yellow light was calming. The suns rays diffused softly through the gray curtains of clouds with a shrouded light that never failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving.

The hilltop approached fast, and with the last few steps completed, a large and triumphant breath was released through my dry and scratchy mouth, so desperate for a sip of water.

“That was a good run.” 

The voice was so sweet to my ears, but so sudden after the hour period of silent running. My eyes trailed towards the figure besides me with a smile, as I walked forward, snatching the bottle half full from his hands. 

“Yeah, for you.” I scoffed. “I was struggling half the time considering you hogged the water.”

Justin’s smirk was undeniably attractive, his sweaty physic only making the sight so much as a delicacy to look at.

“Thirsty much?” Justin commented sarcastically but the hint of lust was hard to miss.

“Only for you baby.” I replied with a wink before gulping down a large amount of the water bottle.

It was silent from then on out, the early morning breeze brushing past the both of us - whipping through the green blades and blossoming leaves around us.

Justin was the first to act upon our setting, stepping forward on top of the breezy mountain until the entire veiw of LA stood in front of him, me following close behind. 

A sigh of delight was forced from Justin, molding a cloud of smoke to appear, re-creating the once invisible air into a smoggy form. His eyes danced around the city with the glare of the sun reflecting against his orbs - leaving his eyes in a beautiful bright honey colour. 

He may not be beautiful to himself, but to me, he was just perfect

His once distracted eyes finally caught sight of mine, furrowing in at the eyebrows as his mouth morphed a form of questioning. “What?” He wandered. 

“Nothing.” I replied breathlessly, “Just reminding myself of all the reasons I fell in love with you.” 

“Oh yeah?” He smiled. “Well keep trying, you might be here a while.” 

The lack of self confidence in his tone had a frown settling across my face as I peered up the handsome boy in astonishment. “Well, It really isn’t that hard. All I had to do was stare at your eyes for a couple of seconds.” 

It was silent for only a second, before I stepped forward, my gaze fully meeting his as we turned to face each other. “You really are perfect to me. You know that?” 

“I’m not perfect, but I don’t find it hard to believe you find me perfect, cause I think your perfect aswell.” 

This had me smiling like an idiot as we both leaned forward, capturing each others lips in a smile set with love and passion, soon falling into one of love and need.

I don’t know if its just me, but recently, I’ve been needing Justin a lot more desperately then usual. It had to be something hormonal, but whatever it was, it was driving me crazy. 

The kiss came to an end, leaving my slightly chapped lips pleading for justin’s as the cold air rushed of the swelling aftermath of the kiss. A whimper so slight but noticeable involuntarily rumbling from my throat. I wanted him so bad, and all it took was a kiss. 

“I want you so bad.” It escaped as a whisper, appearing shaky and unstable, as if talking to loud would leave me trembling at the knees. 

His eyes widened at my tone, obviously slightly dumbfounded at my sudden change in mood.

“Woah. It’s like we haven’t had sex in months, you’re really desperate right now baby girl.” Justin commented, almost in worry.

His voice had me pooling in my panties. This was not natural - nor healthy. All the boy did was talk.

“I know.” I whimpered. “I think its my birth control pills. There making me hormonal. But baby - I need you.”

In this moment, I could of sworn a flash of some sort was seen, but after a quick glance around, nothing was seen, and I had just passed it up as a reflection from the many car mirrors to far for the eye to see.

Justin’s frown of worry fell into a smirk, his face lighting up with smug lust “Well, happy girls are the prettiest girls. And I’m gonna make you elated babygirl.” 

His words hadn’t even comprehended through my mind before my back had made contact with the nearest tree. His hands trailed throughout my entire body, ravaging the skin beneath my shirt slyly.

His hands left heat in its trail, even with the morning breeze. It was magic against me, magic that was too addicting to wait on. His lips began attacking the delicate skin by neck, nipping and sucking on the tender flesh by ear and down my collar bone. He knew all the places that had me weak in the knees, and once realising he effect he had on me, hoisted me into his arms, supporting my legs as I wrapped them around his waist.

One by one, our sweaty clothes had found there way to the floor, until we were both left in nothing but each others arms, grinding our hips against one another. 

My wetness had his dick hard and his hard had my pussy wet. It was a cycle influenced by one another. Never ending.

His teasing had me moaning under his gaze, eyes dark and pure with lust, as I imagined his now buzz cut once long, and how messy it would be right now from my fingers. I wish he hadn’t shaved it, but either way he was hot. Hot enough to have me begging on my knees after a simple kiss.

“Stop teasing and just fuck me already!” I hissed.

My hips grinded against his in hopes that he would notice how much I needed him. He hissed, and in a sudden second, he had tightened his grip on my thighs and pressed me harder against the tree. The bark scraped and scratched down my back, leaving me with a pleasurable pain. Was it weird I found this oddly sexy?

His nails dug in to the skin of my thigh, no doubt leaving marks for memories on either side of my legs as he leant forward to press his lips in the valley of my breasts, right atop my tattoo. His kisses trailed higher and higher until my lips were aligned with his own. 

My back arched a little towards him, leaving him with nothing but the contact of my skin and hardened nipples against him, the feeling leaving him groaning against me. Quickly, his eyes dashed around the area of the hiking trail, finding no one who found an interest at hiking this early in the morning before he attached his lips to my own, and slamming his unnaturally large dick inside me without warning. 




“We’re back from our hike!” Justin’s voice echoed throughout the marble flooring and crisp wall panels. The cluttering of keys being placed against the kitchen island bench, followed by the shuffling of shoes Justin and I had both removed from our feet as we entered the abnormally quiet house.

That’s when the noise began, the screeching and giggling of the two children I had come to love as my own emerging from the living room and towards the two of us. Jazzy made no hesitation to jump into Justin’s arms, as Jaxo stuck his hads out for me to pick him up, which I did graciously.

“Hey champ!” I smiled, tickling Jaxons stomach. 

Jaxon giggled, throwing his arms around my neck. “Hey Y/nic/N.”

It wasn’t until I glanced up that I spot Scooter sitting at the kitchen bench, his head in one hand and scrolling through a page on his macbook with the other. Pattie on the other hand stood in the kitchen, hand fumbling around with her lip as she slowly paced. Thats when I realised, 

Something was not right.

“Hey, are you alright?” I asked pattied, heading her way to run her back comfortingly.

Patties eyes flickered forward in recognition, as if just realising that I was here before a small smile played her lips, but not wide enough to reach her eyes. Sadly, the moment was short lived as her smile fell into one of sadness - or pity maybe? 

“Me? I’m fine. You? I think maybe you should sit down for a second.” 

“Huh?” 

“Both of you.” Scooter added, motioning towards the grand lounge.

Justin and I eyed each other suspiciously, both slowly making our way over towards the living room cautiously. Both Pattie and Scooter followed along, and once walking into the living room, found Jeremy seated on the single seater typing aggressively against his phone.

Carefully placing the two kids down, Justin I sat next to each other, eyeing the adult carefully as we waited an explanation. Scooter seemed scared, almost conflicted and choked up on what to say. Thats when I really knew this could not be good.

Scooter began, “Justin-…No….Y-Y/N…no. How do I say this? Well, guy’s-” 

“Look! The paps caught you guys having sex this morning!” Jeremy yelled out from the corner. I hadn’t even thought he was paying attention to anything happening around him until now.

“Jeremy!” Pattie hissed, glancing towards the children. 

“Wait…What?” Justin questioned, shock rippling through every word.

“Sorry Justin. But you were reckless and someone had caught you two. It’s all over TMZ.” Pattie sighed. 

Justin’s once calm gaze morphed into one of panic, his body leaving the couch aggresively yelling “FUCK!” Loud enough for the kids to jump back from there game of rock paper scissors beside me.

“Calm down sweetie.” Pattie begged. Her eyes showed a form of motherly worry, but also slight fear causing me to shoot up and jump to the rescue. 

My arms flew around Justins body in comfort, feeling his shoulders shake in rage. I noticed everyone else glance around the room, nodding amongst each other before all exiting, taking the kids along with them, leaving Justins and I with a few minutes of privacy. 

“Justin,” I whispered against his body. “I’m so sorry.” 

Guilt had flustered my body at this point, and Justin had seemed to notice that. his gaze jumping up to look at me with his eyebrows furrowed in slight worry on my behalf. 

“No babygirl don’t be. This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah but If I hadn’t started it this wouldnt have happened.” My eyes had filled with tears at this point.  

Justin immediately pulled me towards him, my face crashing into his chest as he hugged my head towards him. “Hey, hey. Stop. This was just as much me as it was you. I should have been more careful but there’s nothing we can do now.”

“I just wish we could go back and fix things. God I hate how nosy people are!” 

“It’s okay baby girl. Hey look at me.” My eyes trailed to his, ones with hope and reassurance that everything would be alright in the end. “Listen to me, shit happens that’s just what comes with being apart of my life but we’ll get through this together. okay?” 

I stood staring at the beauty in front of me, amazed how he can make me feel so secure in a time of insecurity especially after finding out half the world has seen me naked at this point.”Okay.” I agreed. 

His arms pulled me tighter against his chest, voice soft.

“Good.” He responded. “And beside, I wouldn’t want to go back and change it even if we could. That Sex was bomb.” 

My hand met his chest, a small clap made at the impact. 

“Alright, sorry.” He chuckled. “But it’s still true.”


Psst! Leave requests.

Useless

Originally posted by unconditionalloveandunicornspawn


- Y/N’s a runner and gets attacked by a griever while in the Maze. - 

Word Count : 3492


You swiped the sweat off of your forehead with the back of your hand as you stood up. Stretching your arms up towards the sky, you hummed in satisfaction as your back popped and cracked from having been crouched over for so long. You set your basket of crops downs and used the fabric of your pants to brush off the dirt on your hands before gathering your hair up into a ponytail. You winced every time your fingers got snagged in a knot. After a few minutes of combing your fingers through, you managed to secure an elastic band around it and with one last tug you picked up the heavy basket again.

It was a hot day in the Glade and the urge to just sit in the shade and lay about was strong but Alby’s words echoed in your head as if they were engraved into your brain.

Everyone had to do their job and that included you as well. You had to do your part and pull your own weight in the Glade. There wasn’t any time or patience for lazy people.

Keep reading

Invisible, Chapter Eight

Summary: Cursed as a child, you have lived your entire life invisible and alone. When deaths start happening in your town, the Winchesters come rolling in to investigate. What will happen when Dean is the first one who has been able to see you since you were a kid? Will Sam believe that you’re real? Will Dean believe you when you tell him you haven’t killed anyone? And why, after all of this time, is Dean Winchester the only one who can see you?

Invisible Masterlist - Previous Chapter

word count: ~1650

Keep reading