mute the silence

Closing Time - TFCFansgive fic

This is the fic that I did for @curlyhairedneil through @tfcfansgive. Hopefully this turned out alright!! I won’t lie, I really super struggled with the prompt, because we all know I’m not one for fluff writing, but this was… admittedly a lot of fun once I finally figured out where I wanted the story to go.


Neil doesn’t know what to do on a snow day. Not that he considers this much of one. There’s barely a dusting on the ground, hardly enough to even call it snow. It’ll be gone by tomorrow morning, if not later this evening. He doesn’t get it. Classes – canceled. The whole school – shut down. Even Wymack, the betrayer, had called off Exy practice for the day. It’s not that Neil doesn’t get that, regionally, this is a lot of snow. It’s not even an inch, but to people who live here, who make a home in the south east, this is an abomination. Neil’s been here for three years – has called himself a Fox for three years, holy shit – and they’ve never called a snow day before. It’s unprecedented.

And yet all Neil can see when he looks out the dorm window is a lack of ice and perfect running conditions.

“We’re not going out there,” Andrew says from his spot on one of the bean bags. Kevin is at his desk doing homework. He’s been grumbling for the past fifteen minutes about stubborn coaches and unreasonable fathers. Apparently, not even Kevin could win Wymack over. The court is closed to them.

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here’s why sana and eva seem to make so much more sense to me, than sana and noora.

it feels like, clip upon clip upon clip, we just keep on seeing noora. there’s an overload of her. to the point now where, it just feels, overbearing. it feels too too much. even when she’s not got much to do in that clip (like today’s fake fake fake clip), her simple presence is just … overbearing. and we can see sana feeling overwhelmed by her too. 

it just feels so forced? there is no need to have so much noora be shoved in our faces so much, yet, she’s there. she’s always there. and you can’t help BUT to roll your eyes and sigh deeply everytime you see her, because, there’s just been such an overload of her. an overuse of her, that, it just feels ineffective now.

noora says she’s dropped out of the bus because sana has. and? so? big deal? last episode she was fuming at sana, for not telling her about william and his new girl, and … now she’s okay with sana, enough to drop out of the bus for her? there’s such a lack of continuity in her character? and so now that she has dropped out of the bus, in today’s clip, she … honestly didn’t even seem that phased? just going about her usual stuff. tying her hair back and munching on a carrot. so, it’s like … well, what’s the point? what’s the point of you dropping out of the bus, that you say you did for sana, and then not even bothering to ask sana why she’s doing it, even though sana, by text, yesterday wasn’t up for talking much, noora could have asked today why she did what she did. but … it’s … just, mute silence? that’s not what “friends” do .. they don’t drop the matter. they keep at it, little by little, they keep asking. keep indirecting.

i’ve already been vocal about my issues with noora this season. she’s invalidated sana, dehumanised sana, said she’d rather be a muslim bc muslims don’t feel pain, she is literally? the definition of a White Feminist™. i’m tired of her. i’m tired of her constantly, always, just being THERE, and just … not doing anything. if this was season 1, noora would have asked sana by now what’s up with her, directly confronting her about it, and talked it out with her. but now? noora just seems so … wishy washy? there’s no … continuity in her character left anymore. i’m tired of her overload.

which is why sana and eva feels so much more organic. because, eva’s been spotting, noticing, since day 1. whether it be the pizza (which, yes, she got wrong), or just worrying glances at sana, that sana notices eva give her, or downright confronting and asking her what’s up, or trying to persuade her to stay. she’s including sana. she isn’t dismissing sana. she’s picking up on sana. 

but it doesn’t feel overbearing. she isn’t taking up sana’s screen time with her problems, unlike noora. she isn’t making it about her. she’s making it about sana. keeping sana the focus. enhancing sana’s plot. asking her if she wants to join them in going places. paying attention. not dehumanising or invalidating sana.

and, eva’s presence feels a lot less gentle, a lot less subtle, than noora’s. it doesn’t feel forced. it’s not loud, it’s silent. but it still translates so much on screen. its where eva is shown to mess up (like with the pizza), but still continue trying. she isn’t shoved in every clip. there’s a gradual continuity, an organic steady growth there, whose slope keeps going upwards. she’s slowly approaching sana more and more, without it coming across as forced and plot devicey, or taking away from sana. 

she’s noticing sana, in the way where she’s the only one who turns her head and looks back at sana walking away, in how she looks guilty, and tries to include sana into the conversation, in how in the bus meeting, she was the only one who wore a colour closely resembling black, as sana did, whilst the others wore white. 

and it feels real to life. because, eva fucks up, but then she tries again, and each time, she tries a little bit more than the last time. it’s a development. its growth.

and it stems from just how familiar and similar sana’s struggles are, to eva’s.

they both have roots that stem from the same kinda seed that was planted, and hence why their lil friendship blossoming feels so much more organic and natural, than sana and noora’s, that just feels … artificial, superficial, and as isak put it: fake, fake, fake. 

An excerpt from Avrom Sutzkever’s Lider fun togbukh (Poems from My Diary, 1974–1981). Translation by Zackery Sholem Berger:

No sun, no rays. Creatures on the sea floor,
Ambulatory flora in an otherworldly landscape,
Genesis of death and life, coral towers of Babel,
Divine caprices—time to meet them all.

Time to hurry out of the circus with clowns, trapezes
To where the glory of the pearl is in command.
Time now to snatch the secrets of the darkness
There in the marine lab, among hearts of muck.

Time now to drink wine with long drowned sailors
In a cabin: a water bar on the sea floor.
And hear them tell about pirates, albatrosses
And thousand-year-old love affairs, unbecalmed.

Every sound wants freedom. Sound of brass and wood and string.
Person-tongue is trapped in heavy cages.
Time now to listen in—glimpsing through a crack
How muteness recites ABCs of silence. 

the fact that there’s just been point blank mute silence today from sana speaks volumes about how much this girl internalises and internalises and will not open up to anyone.

especially after what noora said yesterday to her about “how she’s so lucky she doesn’t have to deal with heartbreak and stuff”, perhaps the one friend she could have relied on and opened up to, in noora, no longer seems like a possibility either. plus noora has too much going on and of course, sana can’t happen reach out to her. not when she’s so stressed herself.


but then the other girls, eva and chris and vilde are too preoccupied doing their own thing … or people, in vilde’s case. so sana can’t open up to them either.


after friday night? there’s no way sana’s ready to open up to her mum or elias just yet. no way. there’s too much guilt and disappointment.


and isak and even are too too happy right now, in bliss, enjoying their time together, time that they deserve to have alone together. sana can’t be selfish and want to ask for some of that time. they seemed so so happy in their selfie today. no. it’d be wrong to disturb that.


so sana just … keeps it in. all in. it’ll pass. this feeling isn’t permenant. it’ll go away in a few days. her mind will find something else to focus on in a few days.

(but its not just about yousef, though. there’s years worth of pain she’s got inside her. bottled up and screwed tight. and the pressure just keeps on increasing in that small confined space everyday, when she has to bare another insult to injury over a backhanded statement of ignorance, or a look from a biggot that she gets. it only builds up, never goes down. and sometimes it’d just feel so … good, to be heard, and listened to, just once, by someone from all these people that she holds so close to her in her life.)

but, it’ll pass. one day it won’t feel this heavy anymore.

(she convinces herself of that much, somehow, anyway).

All the creature ever had was the things they could steal - mute silence, before they captured their first voice singing so sweet, a heart salvaged from a savage thing, a laugh traded by a stranger on the road for safe passage. Born from whispers, dreams, fears and made flesh as stories wove together. Names, too, they had a lot of those. They were the only thing they’d ever been given. Witch. Demon. Monster. Strange. Some odd and freakish jumble of parts. Powerful. 

Until, one day, someone gave them a kindness. 

But the creature didn’t know how to keep anything unless they stole it for their own.

The Disappearing Pets

No one noticed when the strays started to go missing. It was just a cat here, another there, nothing too unusual for feral animals. Even as a kid, I was used to them coming and going of their own accord and sometimes wouldn’t see them for months. It was just how things worked in a small country town.

But then Sassafrass disappeared. She was the Binders’ beloved Siamese cat, an elderly girl with only one good eye and less teeth. She would sunbathe in a basket filled with blankets from dawn until dusk and then go in to sleep between them on the couch while they watched their evening programs. She rarely left her basket and never left her yard.

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Love Is Enduring

Paring: (Yoongi X Reader)

Prompt: Yoongi Soulmate AU! (Tattoos Are Forever Pt. 3)

Genre: Even MORE Angst

Words: 4.3k

Originally posted by ky-ngsoo

Read Part ONE and TWO 

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beardedrifleman  asked:

I recently started playing a mute cleric. What would be the best explanation of how he would cast spells? Could I say he learned how to cast spells by just thinking them, or maybe a hand sign or something?

For a mute character, it’s important to balance the balancing mechanics in the game with real world accessibility issues.  If the caster could just “think” them, then that makes their spellcasting much more powerful than other magic users, because silencing effects would be close to impossible.  It would be much more reasonable, (and reflective of reality), if they were to not just come up a hand sign, but a fully fleshed-out sign language.

(I’m not trying to imply that your player should learn sign language, just a recognition that their character has.)  Of course, it would largely depend on why your cleric is mute?  Is it because they have taken an oath of silence?  If so, subverting the oath by signing to your comrades probably violates the spirit of the oath and might not be looked on too favorably by your deity.  They would probably make an exception for signed prayers and spellcasting (as that would be communication with your patron, not other mortals).  If, however, your character is mute because of physical limitations, then sign language is a perfectly natural thing for your character to use.

The Stranger In The Storm ⚡️

When Mike Wheeler was around the age of 7, he went through a brief period of having very unusual and peculiar dreams.
These odd visions which were so vivid and so real always seemed to take place on a night when thunder and lightning ruled the skies.

It first happened in late October, when the trees had shed their golden leaves, leaving the ground scattered in deep orange tinged hues.
A thunderstorm had started raging in the sky, the clouds grew darker and more obtuse, and the wind was wild, sending the orange leaves flailing about the air.

Mike had always gotten excited whenever a storm was brewing. He loved to sit out on his porch with Will, Dustin and Lucas, and stare at the sky, giggling with excitement as they would count the seconds after they heard the thunder, to the next flash of lightning, getting more and more restless with the buzzing thrill it gave him.

The smell of a thunderstorm, got Mike all excited too; the dirty smell of rain, the smell of the leaves getting wet, wilting and drowning into the mud, giving off a forest-y kind of smell. He enjoyed watching the rain collect into muddy puddles, as it hammered down into them. The murky brown water gave the boys a perfect means of entertainment and fun, splashing each other as they leaped into the puddles, throwing their heads back in laughter as their faces and clothes soon became splattered in mud.
Thunderstorms had and will always be Mike’s favourite atmosphere. It
presented mystery and teased the magic of the sky.

On one particular night, after Mike had come out of a hot bath, which his mother had forced him to take; (after another messy evening of playing in puddles with the boys), he started to get ready for bed, drying himself off and changing into his ‘red racecar’ pyjamas. The night was especially dark for only 8:30pm, and there was something about the atmosphere that felt strange to him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but the only way he could describe it to himself, was as though something was coming…but what?

After hauling himself into bed, and bringing the soft linen sheets up to his neck, his mother entered the room and kissed him softly on the forehead and wished him a ‘goodnight’, before going and leaving Mike alone in his room, as the rain pelted against his window and the storm raged on.

It took Mike a while to fall asleep that night, the heavy rain battering against his window, and wild winds blowing trees against the glass, kept him awake and alert for a time, but soon the sounds all seemed to merge and mute out into a soft silence, and Mike fell into a deep sleep…

He awoke in his dream to his room the same way he had left it when he had fallen asleep, and the storm was still clattering on outside, only now he had that ‘odd’ feeling in his stomach again, like something was going to happen, and he couldn’t seem to shake it off.

He scanned the room for any signs of anything significant or unusual, but nothing seemed to be amiss, so he gazed out of the rain-spotted windows, admiring the way the lightning briefly brought a light to the outside surroundings, electrifying them, before vanishing and covering the land in darkness once more. Suddenly he felt fear stirring inside him, and he thought he caught a glimpse of something standing near his door, as his heart filled with terror.

He stared over at the door, not too far away from his bed, hoping that the next flash of lightning would reveal that nothing was there, and it was only his imagination. Only when the next flash came, his room was momentarily illuminated, to reveal there was in fact someone stood at his door, staring down at him. It looked like a girl…
As more and more fear and panic filled Mike’s bones, he tried to scream but found that he could not. The girl who appeared to be around the same age as him, edged closer to the bed, and Mike suddenly felt paralysed, as he felt a suffocating feeling of dread washing over him. She reached Mike’s face and sat on the edge of his bed, her blank expression not revealing anything about her intentions towards him. She was wearing a tatty pink dress, a blue jacket, she had long, silvery blonde hair, and she seemed to have on her wrist something of importance, something which Mike immediately recognised as his own; it was his digital wrist watch, although for some strange reason, the numbers on it seemed to be stuck on ‘3:15’.

Mike tried to speak, tried to ask this girl what she wanted, was she here to hurt him or not? But every time he tried to speak, he felt unable to.

The girl brushed her hand over Mike'a cheek, her hands felt cold, as though her entire body was freezing, and she stared at Mike for the longest time before finally saying, “M-M-Mike…”

Mike’s body slightly shot back a bit at this, how did she know his name? 
His eyebrows creased slightly, “H-How do you know my name?” 
The girl sighed and replied, “I once knew someone with that name, who looked just like you…” The sporadic intervals of lightning briefly illuminating the room and her face, revealed that she looked pained and Mike caught a glimpse of what looked like, loss in her eyes.

Mike still sat there confused as to who she was and what she wanted, but a brief brush of her hand against his, suddenly felt oddly familiar to him, as though he…for a brief moment recognised the touch of her skin and the feeling that accompanied it. But alas, the familiarity of it only lasted a second or two, much like the illuminating white flashes of lightning bolts outside.

“W-what do you want with me?” Mike finally stumbled. “I mean, why are you here?” 
The girl didn’t answer for a moment, she looked as though she was thinking, hard about something, and then she opened her mouth and finally said, “I am here to give you a message, a sign of comfort to you.” Mike looked puzzled at her words, but didn’t want to interrupt her with more questions, so continued to listen on to what she was saying.

“Many years from now, you will come across something that will become very dear to you in the woods on a stormy night. You will become attached to this thing you will find, and you will grow to love it. However, one day, it will disappear into nothingness before your very eyes. 
You will mourn terribly. However, the thing that you lost, will know of your suffering, it will feel your pain and heartbreak, but it will one day return to you. Fear not, all things that belong to one another, always find their way back to each other in the end. You will know great loss, but you will also know great love, and although at the time, when you lose this thing, you will feel as though it has gone forever, and you have no way of contacting it, I want you to know and remember that this thing knows that you love it, and it will survive, it will always be with you in your heart, and watching over you, and IT WILL return to you…Remember that…”

Mike sat wide eyed staring at the confusing girl, what was she talking about? He did not know, and he didn’t get a chance to ask her, as the next flicker of light seemed to make the girl vanish, and leave the room feeling as empty as before, nowhere to be seen.

Mike still felt confused by what the peculiar girl had said to him, but managed to drift off into another vivid dream about playing in the rain with Will, Dustin and Lucas…

When he awoke the next morning, the memory of the spooky hallucination was still fresh in his memory, it batted back and forth between the blinking of his eyelids, and seemed to resonate with him for weeks.
He told his friends about this funny dream, but they all responded in telling him that it didn’t mean anything, that dreams were just that…dreams; and soon enough Mike had forgotten all about it, let it flutter off into the farthest reaches of his mind, hidden. Until one stormy November evening, in 1983, it all came flooding back…

Mike, Dustin and Lucas were all out on one miserable Friday evening, scouring the woods for their missing friend Will. The trees waved and danced in the wind, howling, and the smell of wet leaves and mud, reminded Mike of days gone by, of afternoons and evenings like this one, spent with his friends splashing about in muddy puddles.

As they roamed further and further into the woods, the thunder rolling and groaning in the sky, a sudden flash of lightning introduced a small, dark figure into their view…A young girl, (who didn’t really look much like a girl at all), stepped out into the light of their torches. Her clothes were sopping wet, and she looked somewhat, stray and odd. For a few moments, Mike felt the same fear and panic as Lucas and Dustin did on seeing this girl. But then as soon as he locked eyes with her, he unexpectedly, felt a wave of calmness, and familiarity. It was strange really, it was almost like a feeling of déja vu…Then it hit him…he remembered, like a light had just been switched on his brain, this was what the girl from the dream was telling him about, this prophecy, which at the time, he too thought nothing of, until now it had come to pass.

The more that he gazed at the ‘stray looking’ girl, the more he felt she bore an uncanny resemblance to the girl that visited him in his dream all those years ago, and he didn’t feel afraid anymore. He somehow knew, that before him stood a new page in his story, a new adventure.

He felt a brief moment of worry, remembering that he was told, he would end up losing this person, but he knew that she would come back to him one day, as he was told in his dream.

He offered out a hand to the girl, as the rain poured down on them, smiling as he said, “Come on. You’re safe now. You’re home…”

The boys trudged off through the marshy woods with the stranger walking slowly alongside them. Mike took a second to look up from the boggy ground beneath him, and meet the stranger’s deep brown eyes. Something in them echoed mystery, and Mike felt a warm buzz in his stomach, the adventure had begun…

anonymous asked:

Can we have more of ruin researcher obi wan and palpatjne getting along (much to qui gons disgust) maybe with someone making a comment about it (and obi wans omega nature) and getting verbally reamed out by obi wan and the normally mild chancellor

Palpatine was utterly fascinated by Obi-Wan.

That was very clear, the beta was utterly fascinated by Obi-Wan and his knowledge and his tales and his exploration and just…everything.

The omega still spent most of his time in the temple, teaching and enjoying the gardens and spending time with Plo and Kit and occasionally Anakin and Qui-Gon when they managed to catch him in a good mood.

But a lot of his time was now also spent with the Supreme Chancellor, with either Anakin or Qui-Gon acting as his escort since Obi-Wan needed one to get back into the temple without hassle. Anakin had admitted to Obi-Wan though that Yoda had asked them as a personal favor to keep a look after Obi-Wan because the old troll was worried about his health now that Obi-Wan was hitting his seventh month.

It was the only reason Obi-Wan tolerated their presence.

“You must forgive me, but are you well Obi-Wan? Your pregnancy has progressed quite a bit.” Sheev offered his arm to him, smiling when Obi-Wan took it with no hesitation and leaned on the Chancellor for some support as they walked together out to the speeder.

“Medically speaking I’m quite well but the baby is havoc on my body control.” Obi-Wan snorted.

“Oh? Forgive me once again but may I ask what the little one is doing?” Sheev chuckled.

“Tap dancing on my bladder for once. I swear to Force, if I didn’t adore the little one already, I’d be cursing them out at the same time.” Obi-Wan sighed while Sheev laughed a bit louder.

Anakin wasn’t sure who in the Chancellor’s entourage gave a low mutter about omegas belonging in bedrooms and not socializing with the high.

Regardless he didn’t have a moment to act on it as it was a derogatory comment when both Palpatine and Obi-Wan stopped and turned, both sporting equally pinched looks with Sheev instantly focusing on the culprit of the group.

“I see some of your employees has archaic views on omegas.” Obi-Wan offered acidly.

“Yes, I was not aware of that.” Sheev drawled, his face a carefully constructed mask to hide the obvious displeasure he was feeling.

Anakin shifted as he felt the Force darken with emotions and glanced at Obi-Wan, hoping the other wouldn’t do something out of character.

“Hmm, I shall leave this matter to you then?” Obi-Wan raised a brow, glancing at Sheev who gave a sharp nod.

“Yes, I will have to speak to Mas about the coming available posts I will be having…”

The words caused a few of Sheev’s entourage to pale but Obi-Wan smiled, his smile all teeth and damn it if he didn’t look like that when someone tried to argue with him, especially Mace while Yoda cackled at the two.

Vindictive pleasure slid across Anakin’s senses as Obi-Wan took Sheev’s arm again and let himself be lead out to the speeder with the aides falling behind further in an attempt to be inconspicuous. By the speeder the chancellor caught his hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Please, do visit again, I’ll make sure the company is less…odious by then.”

Obi-Wan said nothing but gave him a small smile, lips quirked in the corners before climbing into the speeder and settling down, giving a low sigh as he rubbed his stomach steadily.

Anakin, officially going from shocked to a bit freaked out, jumped into the front and powered up the speeder, giving the chancellor a nod before taking off with Obi-Wan.

There was quiet for a bit before Obi-Wan started to chuckle in the back, Anakin glancing at him in the mirror. “What?”

“Its almost funny how easily upset you get. I’m not interested in Sheev nor will I ever be but he treats me like a person and not as something fragile that belongs on the bedroom or like a fucking incubator. So rest your head, you can push those images out of your mind.” Obi-Wan sniggered to himself and Anakin felt himself color.

“I’m…broadcasting.” He offered in a resigned tone.

“Very hard too. If I didn’t know better…” The other fell mute, the silence full of contemplation. “Hmm. You’re either worried or you’re jealous. I can’t tell which.”

“Jealous.” Anakin admitted. “I like you, you’re…different, and I mean you’re different because you’re not afraid to argue with anyone. I want your friendship but I managed to kick everything off on the wrong foot and now I’m not sure how to…” He sighed.

“Well admitting it is a good step.” Obi-Wan snorted. “Just continue with that. Being honest with me and treating me like a damn person Skywalker and we’ll see about being friends.”

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan again in the mirror then smiled a bit. “Alright.

It’s A Package Deal - Prologue

“All you have to do is bring the kid to us. His name is Bryce McQuaid, he’s twenty-two and his boyfriend is Ralph Kei – the guy who owes us 25k.” The masked man leant back in the fancy office chair. Two of his members sat either side of him, and one stood just behind. All three were masked to cover the top half of their faces, and all three wore sharp, expensive suits. The whole scene was very professional, very secretive and very illegal. “You’ll get 20k if you bring him back in one piece, without an issue.”

The leader flicked his head slightly, pulling attention to the man behind him who held a briefcase that looked expensive in itself, and very cliché for an illegal deal payment.

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Vengeance of Calth


+++Colchis, Orbit+++

Guilliman watched as Colchis burned.

Bright pinpricks of light, visible even from the bridge of his flagship, dotted the surface of the dusty planet with the telltale signs of the planet-wide destruction that resulted from the wrath of a whole legion being unleashed upon it.

It reminded him of Calth in a way. Ironic, he thought. For that had been the start of the events that had led him here. But those memories were of a different age. The Heresy was over now. The traitors had fled from Terra, leaving the Emperor’s loyal sons to taste the bitter victory they had won. The Great Scouring had been raging for decades now. The Ultramarines, being the largest legion, swept out into the galaxy, cleansing holdouts of traitors from the galaxy. One of their first targets was the swathe of worlds that Lorgar and his accursed sons had under their sway. For twenty years, the 13th Legion systematically destroyed every single world they came across, along with any Word Bearer Warbands opposing them. Now they arrived at the final one. The culmination of their vengeance that started at Calth: Colchis, homeworld of the Word Bearers.

“The Nemesis Chapter stands ready to deliver our revenge, my Primarch” a voice behind him said and he was snapped out of his reverie. The sounds of the bridge officers around him and the soft whine of the equipment they worked on filtered into his ears as he turned around.

Before him was Chapter Master Iasus, helmet in hand, in his black destroyer armor. The blue pauldron on his left was the only indication that he was an Ultramarine. His armor, cracked and dented, had only undergone repairs for the most vital systems. His face which had seemed full of youthful optimism when Guilliman first made him Chapter Master was now permanently twisted into a bitter, cynical scowl that had displayed nothing but contempt for those outside his legion.

Scarred and Brutal thought Guilliman. It was an embodiment of the Nemesis. The chapter had become the home of all the destroyer companies in the 13th Legion. In another life, he considered their methods too barbaric, too destructive. He had wanted them to change their ways and tried his best to help them along the way. Then came Calth. There, everything had changed.

“If I may speak frankly, my Primarch” said another. He looked to the figure coming into the bridge through the entryway. It was Aeonid Thiel. The primarch let himself have a small smile. By contrast, Thiel never seemed to lose his youthful look of mischief. He was both a talented leader of men and a great warrior in his own right. His words, however, erased the smile from Guilliman’s lips. “The war is won here. The Word Bearers have been hunted down to the last man. We should move on from this planet and leave it to the Imperial Army to occupy.”

“Oh? Is it not my place to decide when a campaign has finished, Captain Thiel?” the Primarch said, raising an eyebrow.

“Clearly the good Captain seems to have forgotten his place” growled Iasus “He does that often”

Thiel ignored Iasus. “Armed resistance on the planet and its moons ended yesterday, sir. The city-states have all signaled surrender and compliance”

Iasus gave a bark of wicked laughter. “Surrender? Did the Word Bearers accept such terms on the worlds of Ultramar they raped? Did they think about drawing the line between civilian and noncombatant on Calth?”

“That is irrelevant” snapped Thiel, unable to keep his anger in check at the belligerent Chapter Master. He unclasped his helm, mag-locking it to his thigh. He gave Guilliman a pleading look as he knelt before his gene-sire. “My Lord, I have fought alongside the Nemesis Chapter on worlds that were once part of Lorgar’s domain. The devastation they bring is horrific and merciless to the civilian population of those worlds, many of whom weren’t even aware of Lorgar’s-”

“Why do you think I have withdrawn all Chapters besides the 22nd from the surface of Colchis, Thiel?” Guilliman interjected. His voice was cold and sharp. A vast departure from the tone he usually took when speaking with his favored son. The Captain’s eyes widened.

“My Primarch” Thiel began, looking up at Guilliman “There are billions of civilians down there. Men, women, children. The elderly and infirm. Should you unleash the Nemesis Chapter, they will gas entire cities, carry out mass executions in every population center…my Lord, they would slaughter infants in their cribs and-”

“And it would be a tenth of what these bastards deserve!” roared Iasus, drawing his gladius and staring daggers at Thiel. The bridge crew listened on in mute silence. Most of them too shocked to speak and the others doing their best to ignore the dispute. “You were not on Calth! You did not see the destruction the whoreson maggots who crawled from this wretched rock inflicted on us. Entire companies annihilated, cities burnt to the ground-”

“I fought at Calth like any Ultramarine!” Thiel was on his feet now, his own weapon drawn and his eyes filled with a mixture of pity and anger. Iasus, what happened to you they seemed to say to the Chapter Master.

“You fought at Calth, not on it” Iasus shot back. He pointed to the hideous, black scar that encapsulated most of his right face. “You do not have the mark, you sheltered little brat” the Chapter Master hissed. “While you fought a boarding action or two, my men faced the hellfire that the bastards of Lorgar unleashed on us. We fought our way out of five separate encirclements and raced to one of the arcologies when the star went critical. What did you do? Stand at the primarch’s side like an ornament while the real men fought your battles?”

“You-” Thiel began but Guilliman silenced them both.

“Enough” he said simply, tapping the hilt of his sword. Both warriors knelt before him, sheathing their weapons. “I have made a decision” he said and raised three fingers. Even before he spoke, he saw Thiel’s disappointment and Iasus’ savage joy in their eyes.

“Three days” he said, his voice lacking any emotion. “The Nemesis Chapter has three days to do whatever it wishes with Colchis. All actions undertaken by the Chapter will be erased from all historical records and no punishments will be meted out to the ten-thousand fighting men of this unit. So proclaim I, Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines.”

Thiel sagged, almost unable to believe what he was hearing. Iasus had become re-energized. He stood up and gave Guilliman a Maccragian Battle Salute. “My Lord, we shall visit upon their homeworld ten times the pain the Word Bearers inflicted upon Calth” he said, unable to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. He turned and left, leaving the bridge in dead silence save for the soft whine of the machines.

+++Colchis, Surface+++

Hierax looked over his black armoured men and a grim smile crept across his face. The first Nemesis Company had made it. The fires of Calth, the Shadow Crusade, the journey to Terra…it had all been worth it. They would soon have their vengeance.

They were at the outskirts of one of the major city states of Colchis when they received the order. They had taken up position along its west bank several days ago, capturing its main harbor and putting the city under effective siege. Hordes of militia, conscripts and even throngs of civilians who had been fanatical believers in the Book of Lorgar threw themselves at the Ultramarines. They were utterly crushed of course, their broken bodies piled high before the Astartes.

The governor of the city had sent an equerry with an offer of surrender a day ago. Hierax simply shot the man and dumped his corpse into the fire pits. There would be no surrender for these followers of Lorgar. He had faith that his Chapter Master would see to it. Now he was vindicated.

Standing atop a Land Raider, he addressed his men.

“Brothers! The order has been given. Complete extermination! No survivors!” he roared and was greeted by a flurry of cheers. “These deluded fools think they are innocent, but they are the farthest from it! Did their women not give birth to Lorgar’s bastards who betrayed us at Calth? Did they not cheer for the 17th as they boarded their ships and set off for the Shadow Crusade? Would their children not become the next generation of Word Bearers when the time came?”

Deafening roars of anger and frustration resounded from the hundreds of men around him. He knew he could not contain them any longer. “Our great Primarch has allowed us to bring the vengeance of Ultramar down on these heathen bastards! I implore you brothers, do not waste this chance!” He thrust his gladius in the direction of the city. “Charge! Kill them all!” he yelled.

The millions of civilians who remained in the city looked on in horror as the black armoured beasts descended on them. The young and able who were left tried desperately to defend their loved ones with whatever weapons they could muster. These were the first to die. The elderly and sick did not even attempt to escape. They uttered words from the Book of Lorgar, tears in their eyes as they accepted their fate. Mothers held their children close, hiding their eyes as the chainswords of the Ultramarines descended upon them.

+++Colchis, Orbit+++

Thiel had eventually managed to get back on his feet after Iasus left. He put on his helmet, unable to look his Primarch in the eye, at least for now. He turned to leave.

“Thiel” Guilliman said, without emotion again, and fixed Thiel with a stern glare. “Order the telepaths to broadcast images and vox recordings from Colchis to all nearby systems. “If there are Word Bearers honorable enough to defend their home, we shall grant them a swift death”. There was a long pause. Long enough to border on insubordination.

“Yes…my Primarch” said Thiel between gritted teeth and left the bridge faster than decorum would allow.

Guilliman turned and looked through the viewing port once again.

Once more, Colchis burned.

Wanted to give Guilliman/the Ultramarines a dark side. Enjoy :3

@ask-lorgar-aurelian @fuukonomiko @nightshade-victorian @ultramarineblues

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Joker x Reader series.

Warnings: Hints at sexual abuse, language, shock therapy, blood.

A/n: This is part three to the New Faces series.

The guards quickly laid your weak body onto a leather chair before the meds started to wear off. Your entire body felt dead, you couldn’t move your arms or legs to fight them as the people in white began strapping you in.

First the big strap around your stomach. Then your head. Next came your arms and legs. By this time you were feeling more awake, more aware. Part of you wished they’d give you more of whatever the hell they gave you to make you out of it.

The rapid beating of your heart only grew as the people walked over to a machine, turning it on and grabbing the ‘circle thingys’ as you called them. You wanted to talk, threaten them and cuss, but a strap resting between your teeth prevented you from doing so.

“Okay Y/N, today we’re going to try something a little different,” a man in white was walking up to you as he held the ‘circle thingys’ in his hands. Fuck you. You mentally said to him.

Your eyes glanced over to your left the best they could for you not being able to turn your head. The dial was turned to high. Wait, no. They couldn’t do this shit. They would fry your fucking brains starting it up that high.

“Your treatment is going to last half an hour, but don’t worry. We plan on giving you short minute or so breaks so you don’t go into shock,” oh how perfect. Another mental thought.

Yeah Doc, let me just remain calm and not worry while you turn what’s left of my brain into fucking scrambled eggs.

Without saying another thing, he began the process. Electricity started flowing throughout your body, causing you to shake in it’s presence. This was the highest they’d done on you and you could feel the waves of energy in every part of your body.

It felt as though a mute button had been pressed, silencing the noise of the shrieking feelings. Instead of cries coming from your throat, a deep tingly laugh came out. Every noise being made making your throat tingle. They stopped. Looking back and forth from one person to another. Taking the stopper out of your mouth, they listened in disbelief as your laugh grew louder. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting the outburst leaving your numb lips.

“Now that was fun,” you were almost sure they doctors mouth dropped. “Does that thing go up any higher Doc?” another laugh. He turned to his colleagues.

“I-I don’t understand,” he took his glasses off, still not able to wrap his mind around your reaction.

“You can’t understand crazy,” the bastard guard speaking looked at you, the tingly feeling still soaring freely throughout your body you couldn’t help but laugh some more. “What do you want us to do?” the doc stood there for a second, looking down at your grinning face.

“Take her to isolation, there’s nothing I can do for her,” he paused. “Keep her there for a few days,” sneaky little bitch. He couldn’t deal with you so he threw you to the dogs instead.

No warning, the guards hauled you off into another room, one you’d never been in before. You were still strapped into the chair as they wheeled you away.

“Ooo, a new room. Wonder if they’ll be any new guys there,” you hummed while tapping your fingers on your sides.

“Oh sweetheart. That’s cute,” a disgusting smile spread onto his face as he bent over, inches from touching your face with his own. “It’s just going to be me, and you,” you tried your best to hide the worry rising in your chest. “And I can’t wait to show you my toys,” .

*two days later*

There were no bars, no cameras…just cement walls. One dimmed light occasionally flickered above your head as you sat in the far corner of your temporary room. The inside of your nose burned violently, remembering the liquids being forced into you body with thick clear tubes filled with a ‘food’ substance. You hadn’t moved from the corner since he left. Part of you was afraid to, you didn’t want to. But you tried anyways, sitting in a ball for hours on end couldn’t be good for your weak legs.

Stretching slowly you felt it. A pain you’d never known before. But you continued to stand. The pain between your shaking legs was almost unbearable, crushing every ounce of your being with each feeling. You moved your right leg forward, then your left. After a few times of this, walking was normal. Kind of at least. You couldn’t walk properly, but you kept telling yourself it wouldn’t be permanent. Within a few minutes, you felt normal. But you weren’t. You’d been robbed, and nobody ever took anything from you. Nobody ever told you what to do.

Today was the day you were being put back into your cell, little did that asshole guard know, you had a surprise of your own for him. Opening up your mouth, you reached down inside your throat and pulled out the pen you’d stolen days ago from your old shrink.

Thanks doc- you said mentally to yourself as you tucked the tool into your hair.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty,” he was being cocky and arrogant, only adding to your frustration. “Come on sweetheart, time to go. I have to say-” he walked towards you, backing you into a corner. “I’m going to miss having you all to myself,” vomit came up inside your mouth, nasty piece of shit.

Jumping to your feet, you pulled the pen out from it’s hiding spot as you grabbed onto his vest and flung him to the floor, stabbing the pen into his eye as your body weight went full force down onto him.

“Son of a bitch!” blood began gushing from his now injured eyeball, a twisted smile popped up on your face. You wiped the side of your face with your finger, licking the blood off of it.

“Huh, turns out I was right. You taste as shitty as you look,” a loud giggle filled the room and traveled down the long hallway. A sharp feeling was shot into your back, a taser. And they didn’t stop until you’d passed out.

anonymous asked:

Can you please write a sportarobbie glanniþro double date?

good grief, sorry this took so long, but, uh, here it is! the numbered naming convention stolen shamelessly from @dangerouscommiesubversive‘s fics, i believe. i hope you enjoy. 


Sportacus was fidgeting. As it happened, so was Robbie.

Every once in a while they would make eye-contact and then hastily look away.

Sportacus wasn’t really sure what the problem was. The coffee shop was nice. The weather was lovely. Robbie had even dressed up, and made Sportacus dearly wish he owned something else besides his usual outfit. He really did like seeing Robbie in a suit, all prim and proper – it made something in his chest swell pleasantly.

Perhaps it was the fact that it was their second date, and while they were used to each other in the mundane, daily basis, being suddenly thrown together in an explicitly romantic setting was just a tad nerve-wracking. Perhaps it was because of their second cup of coffee and green tea, respectively.

Perhaps it was the fact that Sportacus had invited his old mentor and Robbie’s uncle on a double-date and the other couple was now nearly a half an hour late.

Keep reading

@saisai-chan asked for it and I’m happy to oblige:

Fresh snow. Pure, perfect white, crispy cold air and that muted silence of a first winter’s day….




“Yosh, that’s a point for me! Whooo!”

…only interrupted by the shouting and laughter from Class 1-A as they tumbled over each other in their joy, scooping up handfuls of snow and throwing them at each other’s head in something vaguely looking like snowballs. It’s a heartwarming sight altogether, and even the more serious children like Iida and Tokoyami hadn’t been able to resist and let themselves be pulled into the fray. Iida’s glasses had been knocked half-off by a snowball, but he was shoving a handful of snow right into Sero’s face as revenge, chuckling all the while.

The only one who hadn’t let himself be rigged into this was Bakugou.

The boy sat in the doorframe leading from the living room into the garden, scowling darkly at his classmates. Cross-legged and chin propped up into his palm, he watches - Izuku ducking beneath a snowy missile, straightening again to throw his own snowball into Uraraka’s direction, or Shouto simply freezing some snowballs mid-air before they could hit him. Or Kirishima, getting hit by several missiles at once, laughing all the while as he sputtered and wiped off the snow from his face.

All of them were laughing and smiling as if they were having the times of their lives…


“If you want to join - I’m sure the others would be happy about it.”  

Bakugou doesn’t have to look up to know that All Might is standing next to him. The man casts a well-known shadow – both figuratively as well as literally - wherever he is.

He respects the former hero far too much as that he would simply ignore him or insult his words, so Bakugou gulps down his initial answer and aims for a sharp yet not angry tone, “This is fucking childish.”

There is a pause, before All Might breathes out quietly – almost a sigh – and turns towards the open door again.

Bakugou nearly snarls and pulls the man back from the door – freaking careless man, shivering in the cold air weaving into the living room even though he is bundled up in a thick sweater and a scarf… he should be fucking resting, not going out of his way to catch a cold…

But he doesn’t, grips his own fingers to stop himself from reaching out and do so reflexively. Not his problem if the man can’t look after himself.

“Sensei! Sensei, come join us!”

“Sensei, put a jacket on!”

“Put a jacket on and then come join us!”

Some of the children have stopped in their play now that they have caught sight of their teacher, waving with both arms and coaxing him out to them.

There is a warm chuckle next to Bakugou (he still refuses to look, can vividly imagine the fond warmth on All Might’s expression without turning around) and then, an empty mug is placed onto the ground next to the boy. “I will be right back, young Bakugou.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You can still…”

“They are waiting for you, you should hurry.”

Another breath-sigh, but All Might doesn’t try again.

Moments later, Bakugou is alone in his observation spot again, watching as All Might steps out into the snow with warm boots on and throwing on a jacket as he calls out to the cheering children.

The game continues, even louder and merrier than before.

Bakugou scowls some more (no, not pouting, never pouting). Stupid. Childish. Cold and wet and dumb, and now even All Might is in the middle of this craziness, lifting Mina up to sit on his shoulders so that she could fire her snowballs from higher above and laughing aloud as Kaminari claims that this is unfair – and could he be carried too, please?

Stupid idiots, Bakugou thinks, hoping that they can somehow read his mind and hear his insults.

“They won’t know that you want to join if you just keep scowling at them.”

Bakugou almost rolls his eyes at the drawled words. “What’s wrong with you teachers, always trying to sneak up on me?”

“What’s wrong with you, always rather growling than actually talking?” Aizawa shots back, lazily lounging next to Bakugou, sleeping bag wrapped tightly around himself.

“I don’t want to join,” Bakugou grunts in response, hunching more into himself.

“Sure,” the single word is dripping sarcasm, and Aizawa doesn’t even try to look comforting or reassuring.

Perhaps that’s why Bakugou can handle the scruffy teacher better than All Might – the man doesn’t sugarcoat anything, doesn’t smile to make things better. It’s easier, somehow.

“It’s childish,” Bakugou insists.

“You are a child.”

The boy glowers at his teacher, but Aizawa has closed his eyes and pretends to not notice.

“What do you care if I join them?!”

“I don’t.”

“Then stop annoying me!”

“I’m not doing anything. That’s all you.”

“Ugh!” Bakugou is close to throwing his hands up into the air in utter exasperating – the laughter, the cheering, the smiling-happy-faces-and-fun-without-him-and…

They hadn’t even asked him if he wanted to join them.

“Fuck this!” Bakugou pushes himself to his feet, rushing off to get his jacket and boots. “Fuck this shit! As if I need an invitation for anything!”  

Aizawa waits until he hears the snow crunch under angry footsteps before he cracks an eye open and watches Bakugou stomp towards his classmates, struggling to get into his jacket.

A smile curls the man’s lips as he snorts to himself. “Almost too easy.”

Kirishima is humming to himself, rolling a snowball between his palms and checking if he is able to launch his next shot all the way over to Mina – as he suddenly gets smacked straight in the face with a load of snow.

He sputters, coughs and stumbles backwards, tripping on the slippery ground and falling backwards into the snow.

Still blinking in surprise, he peers up at Bakugou looming over him. The blond is tossing his next snowball – perfect round shape – up and catching it, again and again, as he glares down at the his classmate. “What, Hair for Brain? Didn’t see that one coming?”

“Bakugou?” Kirishima asks dumbly, before he starts beaming. “Hey, you joining us, buddy? Cool!”

“Tch,” Bakugou catches the snowball, squinting down at him with a weird expression. “That’s all you have to say, fucking cool?”

“Well, yeah!” Shrugging as he gets back on his feet, Kirishima chuckles. “We meant to ask you before, but then we thought – nah, Bakugou is too manly for a snowball fight, so, yeah, it’s cool that you’re joining now!”

“Hmph. Next time, just freaking ask, Hair for Brain.”

“Huh? What do you-…?”

Kirishima doesn’t get to end his sentence because he gets the second snowball straight in the face –again.

Tsuyu looks up from where she is building a little frog-snowman with Shouji and ribbits softly. “Oh, look, Bakugou-chan is joining us.”

“What?” Uraraka squints over to where her friend is pointing and laughs in surprise. “Oh, he is!”

Izuku stops squirming in Toshinori’s grip – the man has him flung over his shoulder like a bag and carries him to the closest snowbank – and pales a bit. “Uh, Kacchan is here, too?”

“Don’t worry, I think he is occupied,” Shouto assures him. “He is shoving snow down Kaminari’s neck.”

“Um. That’s, uh, good? For me? I feel bad for Kaminari-kun, though.”

“Don’t worry, he will be fine,” Toshinori chuckles softly, patting Izuku’s back with his free hand – before he flings the startled boy into the thick, soft and very cold snowbank.

There is a yelp, a scream, and then loud laughter as Izuku flails to get out of the snow, Uraraka and Tsuyu giggle, Toshinori doubles over laughing and close to spitting blood in his mirth, and Shouto just shakes his head at his very happy and very weird friends.

Until he suddenly gets a snowball straight to the forehead, courtesy to a very determined looking Izuku.

“What the…?” the boy reaches up, touching the snow clinging to his bangs gingerly.

“Revenge,” Izuku explains cheerily, before he dives down to scoop up another handful of snow.

And hell breaks loose as everyone starts laughing and screeching and yelling again.

“Whaaaa! Guys, run, Deku has lost it!”

“Don’t run that way, there is Bakugou going wild!”


In the end, nobody can say who is aiming for whom or if there are teams or is there anyone who didn’t get soaked to the bone by the end of this afternoon.

What everyone can say, though, is the fact that everyone has the fun of a lifetime during all of this.

(And Kirishima, Kaminari and even Aizawa-sensei himself swear up and down that they have seen Bakugou really smile during all of this.)