no chewing allowed

I figured I’d make a stimmy Keith for autism acceptance month. He has an alien chew necklace.

No Strings (IX)

.Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jimin

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3,940

Summary: It started off as such a simple question. How to know if you’re bad in bed? Of course when you asked, you didn’t imagine Jimin would actually answer.

Originally posted by gotmeolk

Keep reading

7 Years - BadBoy! Jeon Jungkook x Reader - Part 5

As promised here’s the next part. Sorry it took long and I hope you guys enjoy reading it. <3

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5 - Here  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10.1  Part 10.2  Part 10.3  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20 - Final

It took the rest of weekend to get over what you had witnessed at the party and you came to the conclusion that you were being over dramatic. Sure, Hye Mi was someone you held a deep dislike towards but Jungkook was still a ‘player’ and who he ‘played with’ was none of your concern, even if it turned out to be her.

Upon entering school on Monday, you were surprised to see them both sitting in their separate seats, Hye Mi seemingly trying to hide from someone. When you had sat yourself down, Jungkook took that as his cue to greet you.

“Hey, my cute Y/N. How are you?” Head snapping up, you were met with Jungkook’s signature bunny like grin.

You were suspicious, who wouldn’t be? The sudden compliment had caught you off guard and you weren’t sure how to respond properly.  

“I’m good…” Jungkook either didn’t take notice of your cautious response or ignored it because he began to make small talk with you. You occasionally nodded to give the impression of listening but the only thing you could think of was his strange behaviour. It seemed like he was too drunk on Saturday to remember what had happened and you silently thanked god. You didn’t want to have to deal with the awkward tension of an argument so early on a Monday morning.

When the time for class to start had come, he stood from his crouching position in front of you and pinched your cheek.

“See you later, sweet cheeks.” He then winked at you and left.

Was he using his 'player charm’ on you? He never treated you like that so his unusual behaviour had left you confused for the whole morning.


When lunch had arrived, both you and Areum had made you way to your seats at the boys table. Jungkook immediately flashed you another wink, much like the one from the morning.

“Hey, doll.” The various nicknames he had given you throughout the day were starting to annoy you and you weren’t sure how long it would be until you flipped. Areum sent you a surprised look and you replied with a shrug. She seemed to get the general message as she returned her attention to her lunch. You too wanted to know why he was behaving like this but  instead decided to keep your mouth shut.

Surely, it would be over by the end of the day.



It was when you were exiting the school with Areum where you had had enough.

“Bye, babe. See you tomorrow.” Freezing in place, you turned your body painfully slow until you were directly facing him. “What did you just call me?”

“Babe. What’s wrong?” You felt something within you snap and you marched towards him, grabbing his collar.

“Listen Jungkook! I’m not one of your playthings or side chicks. I’m your friend. Stop calling me these bullshit sickeningly sweet names because I swear to god I will punch you in the face.” His smile had dropped and he placed a hand on yours, prying your fingers off of him.

“Well what the fuck do you want then?! You weren’t happy at the party because I wasn’t thinking about your feelings and now that I’m making some kind of fucking effort, you decide to freak the fuck out! Make up your mind, Y/N!” Taking several steps back, you stared at him with a glare on your face.

“I just want you to treat me like a friend. I don’t need you drowning me in compliments every two seconds. Heck, you can call me loser for all I care. Just don’t treat me like those girls you throw away to the side every week. I’m not that desperate for attention.” Feeling like you were being too much of a bitch, you gave him a strained smile and made your way back to a shocked Areum.

“See you tomorrow, Jungkook!” Grabbing Areums arm, you walked ahead and left him standing there.

If only you could see the impressed smirk that spread on his lips.

“She must be bipolar or something…”


It seemed like your words had successfully gotten through to Jungkook without causing any unwanted anger since the next day, his greeting lacked the embarrassingly sweet pet names.

“So, what was that about yesterday anyway? And don’t lie to me, Jungkook.” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head and then lent his chin on the backrest of the seat in front of you.

“You seemed like you were upset with me and I just wanted to make you feel happy, I guess.” Raising an eyebrow, you tilted your head and stared at him. “You guess?”

He pushed his lips out and glanced to the side, avoiding your question.

“If you call me by those crappy nicknames again, I’ll leave you for Taehyung.” Eyes widening, he snapped his attention back to you.

“No way! He can’t replace me, nothing can replace me! Those 7 years aren’t going to be ruined by Tae.” Jungkook proceeded to grab your cheeks, and pinch them causing you to flinch and grab his hair. Playfully tugging at it, you sent him a threatening glare and he slowly released his grip on you.

“I’m serious. You’re not leaving me.” You weren’t sure why but your cheeks heated at his sentence and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You say that like we’re dating or something…” Instead of replying, he shot you his bunny-like grin and tapped his wristwatch with two fingers.

“Wha-” Before you could ask him what he meant, he jumped out of his seat and strolled back to his desk.

You definitely were not dense. That action was his way of saying 'soon’ without having to actually speak.  

He didn’t think your friendship could become more, did he?

Deciding that it was best to ignore what had just happened, you retrieved your notebook from your bag, preparing for your first lesson.


Lunch soon arrived and you made your way to the lunch line alone. The line had been moving unusually fast today and you were already eyeing the special dish of the day, when a tap on your shoulder broke you out of your trance. Upon turning around you were met with the familiar face of Jung-Hoon, a boy you shared a couple of classes with. He was relatively popular and most claimed he was the typical good-boy, although how he really acted was a mystery to almost everyone.

“Hey Y/N. How are you?” You supposed it was rude to continue staring at him with your eyebrows furrowed, so you offered him a friendly smile.

“Hi… I’m good, what about you?” He obviously didn’t sense your confusion as he continued to smile brightly at you, seemingly satisfied with your reply.

“I’m great, thanks for asking. Actually, I originally wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out at some point this week? You know catch up a bit?” What was there to catch up on? Sure, you had been partners a couple of times for school projects but other than that you were never close enough to be considered friends. You, being someone who could never say no in the face of kindness, agreed to his idea.

“Cool! So, I’ll see you at the bubble tea place around the corner on Saturday at 2?” Slowly nodding your head, he placed his hand on your shoulder and presented you with one last smile before jogging off.

What just happened?

A couple of minutes later, you were heading towards your usual table with the boys and Areum when you spotted Jungkook’s perplexed face staring right at you. Sitting down on your seat, he immediately bombarded you with questions.

“Was that Jung-Hoon? He was speaking to you right? What did that bastard want?” Taking a spoon of egg fried rice and stuffing it into your mouth, you slowly chewed whilst allowing Jungkook to finish asking his questions.

“Yes that was Jung-Hoon, yes he was speaking to me and Bastard? He’s a nice guy.” A scoff escaped Jungkook’s lips and he scowled at your last sentence. “Nice guy my ass, that guy is the devil in disguise.”

“Really? He invited me out on Saturday…” Jungkook’s head snapped up so fast, you were sure it was going to fly right off his neck.

“What! You said no right?” When you shook your head he almost choked on his food. “Jungkook… are you jealous?” Surprisingly, he didn’t react to your question and instead looked at you with a seriousness you didn’t know he possessed.

“Yeah, I’m jealous so don’t hang around with that piece of shit.” Letting out a heavy sigh, you began playing with your rice. “It’s too late Jungkook. You know me, I can’t say no when people are being nice.”

“Fucks sake!” He smashed his hand down on the table, effectively bringing the surrounding tables attention on you for a split second before they realised it was just Jungkook getting angry. Knowing about Jungkook’s bad temper, you hadn’t even flinched at his action. You took a sip out of your water bottle, holding his furious glare with a look of indifference. Huffing in annoyance, Jungkook ran a hand through his hair in frustration, calming himself down.

“If that shit hurts you, physically or mentally, i’ll fucking kill him.” Nodding, you beamed at him, happy that you had come to a somewhat normal conclusion.

“Thanks Kookie!” When the nickname left your lips, he looked away whilst rubbing the back of his neck.


“Someone please explain to me why Jungkook has decided to stop being a little bitch after he’s woken me up.” Needless to say, Yoongi complained about how inconsiderate people are for the rest of the lunch break.


The days came and went until Friday arrived and once again Areum was absent from school due to sudden vomiting. You had felt increasingly uncomfortable at the smiles Jung-Hoon had been sending you from across the classroom but decided against telling Jungkook because, let’s be honest, he would lose his shit over it.

You were continuously questioned by Jungkook at lunch, over whether you still wanted to meet up with Jung-Hoon, to which you replied 'yes’ each time. He looked like he wanted to argue more but left it at that when the bell to signal the end of lunch had rang.

When you had reached the end of the school day, Jungkook insisted on walking you home, claiming he wanted to visit your family.

“Why?” Your one word question had grabbed his complete attention and he simply smirked.

“I’m sure your mother misses seeing her child’s 'soulmate’.” Blushing, you began walking ahead in a poor attempt to leave him behind.

“That was like 9 years ago. We’re not 'soulmates’ anymore.” His smirk widened and he peered down at your red face.

“Actually, we’re soulmates until I say we’re not.” Rolling your eyes, you stopped in front of your house, pulling your keys out. When you opened the door, you were immediately greeted with your 15 year-old sister bounding down the stairs and enveloping you in a hug.

“Wow, this is a first. S/N giving me a hug?” She giggled and turned her attention to Jungkook, a look of realisation settling on her face.

“Jungkook!? We haven’t seen you in ages!” He grinned and ruffled your sisters hair, making her smile back.

“I’m impressed you remember me, you were 6 the last time I saw you.”  Your mother emerged from the kitchen, an excited grin planted on her face and you groaned.

“Ah! Jungkook, is that you? You’ve grown up so well!” She proceeded to embrace him as if he was her long lost child and he returned it with as much happiness as her.

“It’s nice to see you, M/N. How are you?” Whilst they broke into a small conversation, you took that as your opportunity to escape to your room. Around ten minutes later, Jungkook followed, throwing himself on your bed.

“Damn, I’ve missed coming here.”

“Don’t get too comfortable. We’re not kids anymore, I’m a grown girl and you’re a grown boy. This isn’t normal for people our age.”

“Yeah, but we’re soulmates remember?” There it was, that word again. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you gaped at his boldness.

“Shut up!” Picking up a pillow, you brought it down on his face with as much force as possible and he only snickered into it.

“You’ll come around eventually.” Deciding to ignore his last comment, you grabbed your books and sat at your desk. Studying was the best way to get him off your back. Or so you thought.

Feeling him place his chin on your shoulder, his natural scent filled your nose and caused the rest of your face to turn red, butterflies settling in your stomach.

“Help me study.” There was no room for arguing and you allowed him to place his own books on your desk and sit beside you.

You ended up tutoring him on topics he struggled with until the sky turned dark and it was time for him to leave. When he had left and you were closing your books, you discovered a note wedged between the pages of your notebook.

'Call me if something happens tomorrow. I won’t forgive that bastard for upsetting my soulmate.’

Why did this note make a delicate smile spread on your lips and make your heart flutter?

You told yourself it was his concern and nothing more.


The secrets behind T. rex’s bone crushing bites: Researchers find T. rex could crush 8,000 pounds

The giant Tyrannosaurus rex pulverized bones by biting down with forces equaling the weight of three small cars while simultaneously generating world record tooth pressures, according to a new study by a Florida State University-Oklahoma State University research team.

In a study published today in Scientific Reports, Florida State University Professor of Biological Science Gregory Erickson and Paul Gignac, assistant professor of Anatomy and Vertebrate Paleontology at Oklahoma State University Center for Health Sciences, explain how T. rex could pulverize bones – a capacity known as extreme osteophagy that is typically seen in living carnivorous mammals such as wolves and hyenas, but not reptiles whose teeth do not allow for chewing up bones.

Erickson and Gignac found that this prehistoric reptile could chow down with nearly 8,000 pounds of force, which is more than two times greater than the bite force of the largest living crocodiles – today’s bite force champions. At the same time, their long, conical teeth generated an astounding 431,000 pounds per square inch of bone-failing tooth pressures.

This allowed T. rex to drive open cracks in bone during repetitive, mammal-like biting and produce high-pressure fracture arcades, leading to a catastrophic explosion of some bones.

“It was this bone-crunching acumen that helped T. rex to more fully exploit the carcasses of large horned-dinosaurs and duck-billed hadrosaurids whose bones, rich in mineral salts and marrow, were unavailable to smaller, less equipped carnivorous dinosaurs,” Gignac said.

The researchers built on their extensive experience testing and modeling how the musculature of living crocodilians, which are close relatives of dinosaurs, contribute to bite forces. They then compared the results with birds, which are modern-day dinosaurs, and generated a model for T. rex.

From their work on crocodilians, they realized that high bite forces were only part of the story. To understand how the giant dinosaur consumed bone, Erickson and Gignac also needed to understand how those forces were transmitted through the teeth, a measurement they call tooth pressure.

“Having high bite force doesn’t necessarily mean an animal can puncture hide or pulverize bone, tooth pressure is the biomechanically more relevant parameter,” Erickson said. “It is like assuming a 600 horsepower engine guarantees speed. In a Ferrari, sure, but not for a dump truck.”

In current day, well-known bone crunchers like spotted hyenas and gray wolves have occluding teeth that are used to finely fragment long bones for access to the marrow inside – a hallmark feature of mammalian osteophagy. Tyrannosaurus rex appears to be unique among reptiles for achieving this mammal-like ability but without specialized, occluding dentition.

The new study is one of several by the authors and their colleagues that now show how sophisticated feeding abilities, most like those of modern mammals and their immediate ancestors, actually first appeared in reptiles during the Age of the Dinosaurs.

Picture This

Picture This (Modern AU)

Pairing: Ivar x Reader
Rating: E
Warning: contains sexual material.
Note: Again, English is my second language and I never really went to school so; so sorry for mistakes and simple language.

Open for requests!


Your mother had taken her physiotherapist practice home about two years ago. It worked out good for her and she enjoyed spending more time at home after she divorced your father.
You was still at home too and it just ended up with you and your mother really enjoying each other’s compay.
You took some night classes to catch up on the grades you needed for college and in your sparetime photography was closest to your heart.
You liked being home with your mother and you had gotten to know a lot of interesting people coming to see her; some had even become your friends and you spent a lot of time together.

“Sweet of your brother driving you here.” You could hear your mother attempt some smalltalk from the room she turned from your father’s old study to her new practice.
You sip your coffee, enjoying just being in your sweatpants and tank top for the rest of the day. You had absolutely no obligations today and when your mother had finished with her patient she would be off to finally go outside with her friends so you would have the entire house for yourself.

“My car broke down on me last night.” Ivar answers and an amused smile tugs your lips where you sit in the couch, legs pulled up under you where you tap away on your laptop.

“So it’s in the shop?” Your mother asks before asking him to take a deep breath and you can hear the young man grunt from discomfort.
You had met Ivar plenty of times since (if you’re to believe him) his mother had him come see yours to ease the stiffness and occasional pain in his legs.
He says it’s not that bad and he comes here to keep his mother at peace but you have been alongside your mother long enough to see the difference between the tense people coming and the relaxed ones leaving.

“(y/n) sweetheart, will you hand me the towel please? I’ll hav to stretch his neck!” Your mother calls and with a sigh you put your coffee away.

“On my way!” You leave the comfort of your couch before dragging your naked feet over the floor to the room, grabbing the white towel from a chair when you enter through the now open double doors.
The panorama windows is covered with thin, white curtains and during summer like now one is always open, having the thin and almost transparent material dance in the breeze.

“Thank you honey.” You hand the towel to your mother over the bunk where Ivar lays.
You do your best not to stare at him only in his t-shirt and boxers. Not only because it would be impolite to stare at someone coming here for help but for the small but very valid fact: Ivar is so attractive in your eyes you’ll blush whenever his eyes meet yours.
It’s annoying really, how those blue eyes have your knees trembling and your heart pounding.
You don’t know him very well but it has nothing to do with it. His jaws and cheekbones so sharp he could cut through all your dignity and those blue eyes such a contrast to the dark brown hair.

“No problem.” You don’t mean to but you throw a quick glance to the man just a few years older than you laying down between you and your mother now moving to put the towel under his neck so she can straighten out his spine without major effort.
He stares at you as if you had come in on him whilst on the toilet or something without knocking and the way he press those damned lips together have you curl your small hands into fists before leaving.

“Calm down.” You mutter to yourself when a familiar warm little knot stirs inside your stomach and you rush back down the couch; diverting your thoughts of that sun kissed skin looking so fucking smooth with your cup of coffee and laptop again.
You’re not entierly sure why you’re so attracted to him and why your body reacts so fiercly whenever he looks at you. He’s rather cocky and too stubborn for your liking. Then there’s the small fact that he always look at you as if he was so above you.

“Stupid.” You groan before deciding to go through some photos yet not sorted for editing.


“Just until his mother comes for him. For God’s sake (y/n) I can’t just leave him here and have you ignore him. He’s a guest now after all.” Your mother whispers when leaning closer to the mirror over the basin, putting on some lipstick.
With arms crossed you stare at her darkly through the mirror and you have a hard time keeping your voie low enough for Ivar not to hear you.

“Can’t he take the bus like normal people?” You whine and the sharp glare your mother sends you through the mirror shuts you up on the spot.
Ivar’s brother who drove him here had to go to the hospital with his girlfriend and had no chance picking up his brother on said time.

“Sure, you go tell the poor thing he can drag himself to the bus stop.” She turns, ready for heading out.
You’re happy for your mother finally getting out of the house to have some wine and dinner with her friends yet you’re selfish enough wishing you wouldn’t have to take care of her patient.

“For how long?” You sigh in defeat. She’s right, you can hardly leave Ivar in the couch and hide away in your room as you had originally planned. It would be a shitty move to say the least.

“His mother is off in about two hours.” She gives you a quick hug as a thank you for not fussing more about it but you make sure to stare as darkly as you possibly can at her back when she exits the bathroom.

You take a slight comfort in the fact that Ivar looks as bothered as you about having to stay here and wait for someone to pick him up. When you enter the sitting room he doesn’t even look up from the couch where your mother had put him with a cup of coffee and her apology for having to leave.
You lean in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest as you can hear your mother leave the driveway and slowly you start to chew your bottom lip.

“So what do you want to do? I have video games. It’s my brother’s but he left it when moving so..” You avoid looking at him where he turns his head to look at you from where he sits and you do your best pretending you can’t feel the weight of his blue ones on you.

“Sure, what games does he have?” You blink shocked, not thinking it would be so easy to find something that would entertain him but you don’t deny that it eases your insides a bit.
You nod for him to follow you and for a second you think about waiting for him where he grabs the crutches leaning on the couch, but deciding against it.
You let the door to your room stay fully open so he wouldn’t miss where you’d gone and seeing all your clothes littered on your bed you start to panic a bit.
Panties and bras are the least thing you want to show him so you collect your underwear together with your PJ’s and a pair of jeans quickly when you can hear how he drags his feet closer to your room. You manage to throw the clothes under your desk just in time for him to enter.

“I don’t know what games he have, you’ll have to look.” You mumble when chasing after the forgotten chords for the device.
Still in a bit of panic from clearing your bed from clothes your heart pounds in your chest where you connect the dusty Xbox to your TV and find the controls hidden away behind your old DVD.
Turning you wipe some of the dust off the controls with the bottom of your top and not until looking up to Ivar you can see how he eyes the low of your stomach showing.
Blood rushes to your cheeks and you can’t get the device from your own hand into his fast enough, accidentally tipping one of his crutches over when you hand it over.

“Shit, sorry.” You hiss, picking it up and decide to move them to your desk chair instead when the almost forgotten sound of the Xbox waking to life rings through the room.
Lookng over your shoulder he doesn’t look at you but a small smirk curls one corner of his mouth and you clench your jaws in a mix of humiliation and annoyance. Smug little brat.

“Is it okay if I do some work? You want some more coffee or something?” You look around discretely for a hoodie of some sort; suddenly feeling naked in just your white tank top even though it would be too damned hot wearing one.
Ivar shrugs, occupying himself with scrolling through the games and with a nod you go back to the sitting room to fetch your laptop.
Coming back to your room he’s leaning against the cushions in your bed; way too many if you ask your mother; but you want them so you can build yourself a fort, make some tea and watch Netflix after a long day of studying. Apparently Ivar found use of them as well.
Plopping down on the bed next to him, yet as far away as your bed allows you chew your bottom lip, arguing with yourself wether you should talk to him or not. You decide not to when realizing he didn’t really attempt conversation himself.
Going through the last pictures you constantly glance over to him where he sometimes grunts when failing something and more than once you forget what you where doing when you watch his fingers skillfully maneuvering the control.
The hot little flicker inside your stomach wakes up and not thinking about it sitting indian style with your laptop on your knee, you bend forward in an attempt choking it.

“What are you staring at?” He sounds bored but the small smirk so painfully evident taking you by such a surprise you jump slightly.

“What? Nothing.” You snap but regretting it within the second when he with a raised brow turns his head to look at you. He stares at your for a few seconds but it feels like long and slow minutes.
He eye’s you with no shame; his eyes scanning from yours down over your chest and to where your sweatpants hugs your thighs tightly. His tongue rolling inside of his mouth so that his lips pouts in the most delicious way ever. You hold back a soft moan.

“I saw your camera.” He looks away and with that the spell is broken; but the little flicker of heat has turned into a burning ball slowly falling lower and lower inside of you. You can’t get the picture of his long and flexible fingers and those pouting lips out of your ruined head. Fuck.

“I prefe people and animals. What do you like?” For a second you just blink, slowly trying to compherend before you finally wake back up to life.

“Uh- people. I’m not good with landscapes and I haven’t gotten patience enough for animals.” You blurt out and not until now you realize he has paused the game and discarded the control; his hands with the visible veins and tendons resting upon his stomach where he’s still leanig back against your cushions; legs limp over the edge of your bed.

“Naked?” He grins so wide his blue eyes narrows and the white and straight rows of teeth is like a toothpaste commercial.
Flustered and with the many pictures managing to run through your brain in just a few seconds you stiffen, feeling how your face heats up and almost violently you shut your laptop.

“What!? No!” You scoff. “No way, sicko.” You shake your head and he pretends to be much surprised.

“Sicko? It’s considered art you know.” He sure pretends to be surprised but doing little to hide the mischief in his eyes where he again let them scan your body now trying to literally hide behind the thin laptop in your lap.
God in heaven, what the hell is he doing? Your heart is pounding its way out of your chest and the wave of heat between your legs is so tormenting you can barely keep a straight face.

“Or porn.” You blurt out without realizing the opening you just gave him. However he makes sure to point it out with a laughter so soft yet triggering your eyelids flutters when he rolls over to his side, holding himself up with his one elbow and he oogle you so playfull you for a second thought it best to throw him out. But how could you when all your body wanted was to respond to his stupid game?

“Porn could be art, sweetie. Depends on how you look at it.” The tip of his tongue dives out, running along his bottom lip and you have to force your own mouth not to fall open.
Your fingers hold onto your laptop so hard your knuckles turn white and you know he knows how you react to this. You doubt he would’ve kept this up if you had been neutral to it all. Damn him!

“Point. But it’s not what I do anyway.” You put your chin out, desperately grabbing at your inner strength but your mental stamina is running out when you can see how his fingers pick with the duvet of your bed. Perhaps you could do hand porn? For some stupid reason you can’t stop thinking about what amazing pictures you could get of his hands such a warm and inviting contrast to your white duvet.

“Can I take a picture of you?” The sudden question have you laugh out loud and even though smiling he looks a bit taken aback by your loud outburst of sound.

“You can keep your clothes on, darling.” He finds his posture quick enough and when back to his cocky self it’s like someone just cut your chain of laughter off. “But I’m not going to stop you if you want to take them off either.” He snickers so sure of himself and his capability to completely push you ofboard you have to swallow multiple times to find your own capability.

“Why would I let you take a picture of me?” You question, arms crossed over your chest and again he feigns surprise when turning his head to look at you, his brown hair so soft around his face you just want to lean in and run your fingers through it.

“We’re photographers, we should support each other.” He shrugs and most likely on purpose he lifts his own t-shirt up just slightly to scratch the warm skin on his stomach.

“If I let you do that-” You gulp, licking your lips when staring at his hand without intentions of moving away; giving you constant access to the sharp V leading your eyes down where his jeans cover him. “-are you going to stop this then?” Your voice is a pathetic replica of what is used to be.

“Stop what?” He grins and you frown, covering your moan with an annoyed grunt as you rise from your bed; quick and fierce enough to make a point out of that you’re annoyed with him yet not quick enough for your brain to let go of all the dirty thoughts running through it. Oh he surely put them there with detailed calculations that bastard.

“One and that’s it. I’m just going to stand here and when done you’re leaving me alone.” It’s a stupid request because glancing over at your alarm clock it’s at a bit over an hour left until he would be picked up.
He doesn’t answer as you hand him your camera; the only gift you had kept from your father when he’d been a complete dick towards your mother and she had decided to throw him out. Fact is that the camera is to expensive and too loved by you to be thrown out the window together with the memories of your father.

“Okay, in front of the window.” He nods towards your window, slightly open to let the summer breeze in and rolling your eyes you move to stand before it, arms once again crossed whilst you watch him find the wished settings on the camera.

“I’m fine with you standing there but please don’t look like an angry mannequin.” He huffs and you scold yourself when letting your arms fall your sides without even attempt arguing with him.
His baby blue eyes wolf down every single inch of you where he waits with hiding his face behind the camera.

“Let your hair free.” He instructs and something in his voice have changed. There’s an addition of fever in it and you’re not sure what to do with yourself.
His upper body is broad and tall where he sits on your bed, holding you camera as if it was a child and eyeing you like he was considering devouring you without even chewing.

“I said I was just going to stand-”

“I’m your guest, aren’t you suppose to entertain me?” His lips twitches where he holds back another smirk and this time you can’t keep your mouth shut. It falls open where you let the hungry sound of his voice cascade over you and envelope you in such a need you can feel how the wetness between your legs escalated.
He grunts pleased where you let your hair out, feeling how it falls over your shoulders and now he brings the camera to his face. The mechanic sound when he snaps the picture have you wince and then comes another and then another. You want to remind him you promised him one picture and not one single more but you just stand there, gaping like a fish.

“You want to take one?” He hands you the camera and you stare at it as if it was some alien tool and then back to his face.
You can’t fight him anymore and you’re not even sure you want to. He has turned your mental state into some form of mess and your body into a trembling puddle of need.
You take the camera and realize just how much your hands shake when you change the settings and not before you’re done you look back down at him; using the time to pick yourself up just slightly.
But whatever walls you built he tears them down in a second. You see how he tosses his t-shirt aside, revealing his muscular chest to you where he lays back in the bed.

“Ivar.” You whine hushed and you’re not sure it was the beginning of a question or a desperate plead.
One of his arms goes under his head, the muscles flexing under his tight skin and with your heartbeats going off charts in no time you can barely hold the camera up.
His free hand paints lazy circles just under his bellybutton and the blue in his eyes is eaten away by dark and black pools of lust.
The mechanic click when you print the picture into the cameras memory sends a light vibration through your fingers and you almost drop the camera when inhaling sharply.

“A picture is a fine memory, sure but-” he props himself up on his arms when you’re clear with that you’re not able to take another picture without falling into a pile of hoplessness on your floor. “-the memory your senses gives you is way better, hm?” He pats beside him on the bed and like a little puppet with strings so strongly attatched to your body you put the camera away, crawling up the bed beside him without ever letting him go with your eyes.
You lay on your back beside him when he rolls to his side and your dry mouth suddenly waters at the sight of his flexing muscles.
Without really thinking you put your palm on his chest and his skin is soft and warm under your touch just like you had imagined.
Your eyes close when you can feel his hand run down your arm, causing goose bumps to spread in its wake and when it reaches your hips and sneaks in under your top you suck in a sharp breath.
Blindfolded by your eyelids you tilt our head, looking for his lips and you sigh in relief when they touch. The tender pink skin is soft and smooth, slightly moist and the moan you draw from him when yout tongue dip out to beg entrance sends a violent shudder through your aching body.
Your hands roams his body, finding his hair and you smile into his slow and hungry kiss when that too is just as soft as you imagined.

“Lift.” He instructs when you can feel the hand on your stomach grab your top and you lift yourself enough to help him get it off. When laying back down his brows knit together in concentration where his fingers ghost over your one nipple.

“Ivar.” You whimper when his touch cause it to stiffen into a hard bead and the way you say his name makes him groan, his head diving down to enclose your senitive bud in his mouth.
You gasp at the sensation of his hot and wet mouth, his tongue slowly flicking it between his lips and you can’t stop your back from arching.
Eagerly his mouth searches your skin, his hand on your ribcage slowly pushing you upwards and like a limp little snake you move, his mouth planting open mouth kisses along your stomach when you allow him access lower and lower on your body.
You lift your head to look down at him when his tongue lap over your hipbone and his fingers hook the hem of your sweats.

“I can smell you from here.” He breathes over you skin when he pulls at your pants; your hips obidently lifting so he can pull them down together with your underwear.
Your heart races in your chest and your hands hold onto your own head like you would lose your mind if you didn’t help your skull contain it.
He throws your one leg over his head so that your calve end up resting on his one shoulder. A proud little grin parting his lips where he looks up at you from between your legs.
You moan at the sight of his blue eyes now almost black where he’s so close you can feel his breath over your pussy.

“Please, just-” The throbbing need sends shockwaves of desperation through your body, like a eletrical shock under your sensitive skin and you start to roll you head from side to side in frustration when he snakes his one arm around your thigh to hold you down; the other one running along the inside of your thigh not over his shoulder.

“Greedy, wet little thing. Please what?” He mumbles hushed, kissing your thigh and your hips buck. With an amused chuckle he withdraws his head and you whine; your hands bravely moving to his head.

“Oh stop it.” You sulk when your fingers move his hair out of his face before grabbing it, your nails scratching his scalp in a way that makes his own eyelids flutter and his lips part where he lets out a heavy sigh.
Then his tongue darts out, lapping over your folds and the extreme sensation sends your body into such a intense shock you bite your lip not to wail.

“You want it, get it.” The dark voice like melted copper hot over your desperate body and you roll your hips, finding his open mouth and the frustration of only his lips against you yet the supreme satisfaction of being touched sending you off into space.
He allows you his tongue and constantly rolling your hips against it he sometimes rewards you with a light suck on your clit, causing you to whine his name in a way that would have brought your pride shame if you weren’t so damned desperate.

His hand not holding your in place, only allowing your hips to send your burning core onto his tongue, reaches up and finds your one breast. One of your own hands places itself over his, helping him to massage the soft flesh in such an exquisite manner.
Your chest heaves when you pant, trying to breathe when he finally let you rest, his tongue finding its way between your folds and taste your need for him inside of you.

“Oh, fuck!” You press your head down into the ocean of cushions and your toes curl in pace with his tongue curling inside of you.
His own small moans sends sweet vibrations through you, driving you closer and closer to the edge of complete bliss. All that is needed to finally push you over the edge is his skilled sucking on your clit and two of his fingers slowly running along your slit; gathering your overflow of juices so he with ease can push them inside of you.
The stretch of your walls around him, the way he uses his middle- and ringfinger like mischievously calling someone to him triggers the hot explosion inside of you.
He generously help you ride your orgasm out and his tongue cleans you slowly and carefully; keen not to touch your now over-sensitive parts before he litters kisses on your thighs and hips.
Dazed you look to him where he pulls himself up to your level. Your arms find him fast enough and hungrily you taste yourself on his lips.

“Sweet, aren’t you?” He kiss down your jawline and you nod, savoring the taste of the pleasure he’d given you.
The post-orgasmic bliss soon settles and gives space to another need; a need triggered by the memory of how his fingers felt inside of you.
You palm the hard bulge through his jeans and he meets your hand willingly, a groan spilling from his mouth into yours.

“I need you.” You gasp to his face when your fingers shakily try to undo his jeans; a task harder than you thought in your hurry to get them away and when helping you your fingers constantly bump into each other. When the barricade of buttons and the zipper is out of the way he harshly grabs your wrist, guiding your hand down his jeans so that you can more properly feel his hard cock through his boxers.

“Holy shit.” He hiss when your hand grabs him through the fabric, the firmness and size of him having you almost panic with greedy need and lust; your brain already making up the feeling of him pushing into you.
Pushing him to his back you waste no time straddling his stomach, your hands tugging at his boxers behind your back; your eyes refusing to let his ones go.

“You sure want this.” He sounds a bit amazed at the fact and if you weren’t so God damned needy you would’ve told him how stupid that remark was.
He helps you topush his jeans and boxers down his thighs but when he let them stay mid-thigh you don’t argue; letting him keeping that comfort.
With your hands flat on his chest your lift your hips and scoot down until the heat of his errection mixes with your own. You lower yourself and the sensation of his silky skin against your wet pussy have you both moan.
His hands guides you with a firm grip on your thighs and you grind along his leangth, his skin getting moist by your juices and the slight friction against your clit is insane.

“I’d like a picture of that fucking face right now.” He groans and hanging with your head you look at him through your hair draping your face. You bite your lip, grinding down harder until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

“You have to look at me, so you’ll remember instead.” You smirk cocklily, yet so dazed you most likely just look hammered; but it drives him crazy anyway and with a firm grip on your hips he turn you around.
You fall on your back in your soft bed, the weight of his body on top of yours warm and heavy.
He lines himself up, the tip pressing between your folds enough to have you beg for all of him.

“Oh fuck, please Ivar!” You whip your head up, grabbing his neck and you press your lips to his fiercly. Your hips buck, forcing him further in and it’s what it takes for him to give in himself.
With a slow but hard thrust he enters you; your walls stretching so deliciously you bite down his lip.

“(y/n) shit, so fucking wet, so thight.” He breathes heavily into your mouth and when he pulls almost all the way out just to press himself back in giving you almost no time adjusting you forget how to kiss him.
With open mouths trying to kiss you snake your legs around his back, allowing him to go deeper and when he hits the end of you; constantly rubbing that sweet spot inside of you when he moves it’s almost so unbearably good you wish to cry.

“Oh don’t, don’t stop. God please.” He picks up the pace every time you plead for him to stay, for him not to leave and you claw his back where your body is out of control.
Your back arches and you’re sure you’ll leave marks on his own hard back; but his frequent moans tells you he don’t mind at all.

“Such a good girl, such a good little kitten wrapping around me so sweetly. Fuck (y/n).” He growls like a beast, causing your body to jolt where you’re closing in rapidly.

“Oh, shit make me cum, please Ivar make me cum, please.” Your body moves with his every thrust and your legs tie around him so tightly he soon can’t move, only rub your insides so sweetly you’re sure your losing your mind.
Then it floods you like a great wave. The heat booms through yor body and your clenching creates less room for him inside of you; sending his own moans to ring with yours.

“Come one, come on (y/n), give it to me.” His body is slick with sweat and so are yours and the new flow of pleasure between your legs let him slip in and out of you with such ease it causes your stomach to cramp.
Then he pulls out, one of his hands grabbing himself and you stare down to where he pumps himself, biting his swollen lip until his entire face relaxes.
The hot seed covers your stomach, your muscles still flexing from the intense pleasure not yet subduing and you whine at the sight of him coming undone on top of you.
Then there’s absolute stillness for a second as you both breathe heavily, bathing in the sensations filling your room with what feels like thick electricity.
You look into his eyes, hooded with tired satisfaction and he rolls off of you, collapsing at your side and the cold swoshing down on you as replacement is sweet.
You feel his seed with your fingers, the sticky white fluid glistening on the tip of your fingers before you slowly put them in your mouth. It tastes salty, rich..
With wide eyes he looks at you, his mouth opening and closing slightly in loss of words and biting down on your one finger softly you laugh.

“I’d like a picture of that too.” He smiles tierdly and with a content sigh you roll your head to the side, lifting it enough for him to let you rest on his arm crawling in under your neck.

“Perhaps next time.” You close your eyes, letting the post-orgasmic calm lull you into peace for a little while.

“I should listen to my mother and come here more often.” He purrs and you nod, your cheek rubbing against his warm chest.

“Yes, you should.”

anonymous asked:

Hey! So I'm like 190lbs and like 5'8 but I'm pretty active. And already don't eat junk. I'm finding it kinda hard to lose weight and am wondering if you know any good ways to maybe kickstart my weight loss or anything that could help me more? Thanks!

-Try changing up your eating habits -Drink more fluids -Different exercise routines -Change the time you exercise at -green tea Eat with your non-dominant hand or use chop sticks. This will help you to slow down your eating and take smaller bites. Both of these are correlated with less intake of food and ultimately weight loss. Similarly, use smaller plates and bowls. This will force you to take less food and consume less.Keep food away from the table. Serving directly from the stove or counter will lessen your desire to take second helpings simply because the food is in front of you. You’ll also be more aware of what you’re eating.Slow it down and chew more. Doing so allows more time for your brain and stomach to get in sync with each other. It takes approximately 20 to 30 minutes for your stomach to send signals to your brain that you are full, hence the frequent overeating.Eat before leaving your house. If you have an event or party to attend and you know food and drinks will be served, eat beforehand. This will help eliminate your desire to indulge simply because the food looks good, is free, and is in front of you.Eat healthy snacks between meals. If packing them to go, put them in small one-serving bags rather than large ones. Keep in mind: that big container = big consumption. Similarly, when shopping for food, buy small containers and avoid jumbo-sized as they only encourage bigger portions.Eat before you eat your meal. That’s right, eat a small healthy snack or salad before dinner or lunch. This will help you feel more satiated and eliminate cravings to indulge.When dining out avoid the bread and ask for a take-home container. Before you begin to eat, pack up a small portion of your meal to bring home for another meal. Restaurant portions are getting bigger over time and this is one way to ensure eating less.Occupy your hands and/or mouth while watching TV. Chewing gum, ironing, or squeezing a stress ball are a few such suggestions. Most people reach for chips and other junk food when in front of their televisions. We’re conditioned to do this. If possible skip past commercials altogether. Many food commercials will unconsciously trigger your brain to reach for food.Substitute junk with healthier food that resemble the texture and taste of junk.For example, eat frozen grapes to satisfy your Popsicle cravings or eat yogurt with blueberries instead of that bowl of ice cream. Overtime your taste buds and brain will adjust and learn to like these healthier options.Exercise, but not too long and not too intensely. One sure way to sabotage your efforts is to take on too much, too soon. Go easy at first and gradually increase. As with any task, small successes will motivate you to pursue bigger goals.

Originally posted by rosy-fitness-styles

From My Rotting Body, Flowers Shall Grow and I Am in Them and that is Eternity

Usnavi sat on his couch fiddling with the ring box, the couch creaking every once in awhile when he would shift. Johan rather liked the couch, even though his sister chewed him out for allowing Jack and Junior to sit on it even though the sag in the middle was nearly brushing the ground. Benny joked often that he was going to cut the legs off, and finish the job. Usnavi pulled out his phone and tried to call Johan. “Hey it’s Johan. I can’t-”

Usnavi looked at the clock and saw that it was a little past 2 in the morning. He had a knot form in his stomach as he recalled Dre and Rainbow words.

“He can’t commit, he’s lazy, entitled, and a mooch.”

“Dre! My brother, as Dre so rudely put it, likes to be constantly on the move, he struggles with commitment but does love you and I see that he is trying to do his best, and he does love you.”

Usnavi checked his phone seeing there was still the apology text from him. Usnavi tossed his legs on the couch as he reached around for Johan’s cardigan that he left lying on the back of the couch for a cover when the apartment got too cold. Usnavi pulled Johan’s cardigan over smelling the mixture of coconut and cinnamon. In the back of his mind Usnavi knew Johan wouldn’t up and leave for fear of the Benny reproductions, but in the forefront of his mind he couldn’t get over the fact he and Johan had a fight, Johan wanted Usnavi to come with him to California, and Usnavi didn’t want to go because two weeks was a long time for the bodega to be closed, and for the barrio to be left to fend by itself. Usnavi checked his phone again only seeing the text Johan sent as an apology.

‘When you’re right, you’re right. I shouldn’t have kept pressing you to go to Cali. While I’m gone look into getting Benny some help for his Milky Way addiction. He and Dre could bond over that. Anyway, I’m going to go out. Shop, check out a few bars. I’ll see you when I get home.’

“Where are you? He wouldn’t just up and leave without everything?” Usnavi thought as he drifted off to sleep,”Maybe his phone died and time got away from him.”

Usnavi jolted awake confused then relaxed realising he was woken up by his phone ringing happily, he answered the phone without checking the caller ID,”Hello?”

Rainbow’s voice came through, slightly frantic,”Usnavi? Thank God. Is Johan with you?”

Usnavi shook his head,”He hasn’t contacted you?” Rainbow’s voice was nervous,”Not since earlier, he said the two of you got into a fight so he was going to go out for a bit then, make up to you. I’ve tried calling him but I’m only getting voice mail.”

Usnavi tapped the ring box in his pocket,”Well, you said he wandered off a lot when he was younger, right? He probably just forgot to charge his phone.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Will you call me when he comes back?” “Of course, Rainbow. I’ll talk to you later.” Usnavi said hearing the call ending beep. He slid his phone back into his pocket and began to make a cup of coffee. When he heard a knock on the door, he walked very calmly and didn’t nearly run into the end table as he calmly opened the door seeing a petite police officer standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression, she was about a head shorter than Usnavi, not exactly an uncommon occurrence but to see this height on a cop was a little alarming.

The officer stared at Usnavi for a second,”Mr. De La Vega?”

Usnavi nodded,”May I help you?” “My name is Detective Gutierrez, you were named as Johan Johnson’s emergency contact.”

Usnavi opened up the door a bit more,”What happened?” Detective Gutierrez took a deep breath,”There was an accident. We believe Mr. Johnson was a victim of a hate crime. He was wearing a Black Lives Matter t-shirt and was around a well known gay bar. He-” Usnavi cut her off,”Is he okay? Can I see him?”

She shook her head, her expression sympathetic,”I’m sorry, he was pronounced dead on his way to the hospital last night. We’ve been trying to track you down in the meantime.”

Usnavi felt his knees go out from underneath him and Detective Gutierrez grabbed him before he hit the ground, as Usnavi pressed his hands to his mouth and let put a quiet gasp,”Are you sure?”

“We got his name from his California ID, and he was lucid enough to confirm it for us.” She kneeled down next to him, going to reassuringly touch his shoulder but thought better of it,”I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. De La Vega.”

Usnavi stood up leaning heavily on the door frame, he offered his hand to Detective Gutierrez and she allowed him to pull her up. Usnavi’s voice was shaky and quiet,”When can I see him?”

“At your earliest convenience, he’s at New York Presbyterian.” Detective Gutierrez flinched when her pager loudly, there was muffled talking on the end, and she answered it,”Detective Gutierrez. What? Yeah, I’m on my way. Mr. De La Vega, I’m sorry for your lose, but here is my number incase you would like to contact me for information.”

Detective Gutierrez began to head down the hall and Usnavi crumpled the paper she gave him and tossed it on the end table, he stumbled to the couch and grabbed Johan’s cardigan, inhaling the scent of coconut and cinnamon, he felt his eyes grow hot and he buried his face in the cardigan, trying to muffle his cries. Usnavi felt as if he’d been hit in the ribs with a bag of rocks, his lungs felt like they weren’t getting enough oxygen, and his heart felt like it was being pulled apart and stuck in a blender. Usnavi felt a wave of anger come over him as he flipped the coffee table in front of him, scattering Johan’s papers and notebooks to the floor. He pulled the cardigan close and began to wring the fabric. He looked at his phone, his chest slowly tightening, he thought of what Rainbow said,”Call me when you hear from him.”

Usnavi jolted when his door banged open, and Sonny stood there panting,”Usnavi? Pete said there was a cop outside the bodega and when I asked around they said the cop was looking for you…” Sonny trailed off, looking around at Usnavi curled up on the couch and the flipped over coffee table and the scattered papers,”Navi? What happened?”

Usnavi took a deep shuddering breath and tried to get through the sentence without breaking down,”The cop showed up to tell… tell me that Johan…… that he died.”

Sonny shut the door and sat down on the middle cushion of the couch,”What happened?”

“They think he was a victim of a hate crime.” Usnavi looked at Sonny teary eyed,”Sonny, how am I gonna tell his family?”

Sonny swallowed and looked at his cousin,”I’ll do it?”

Usnavi furrowed his brow at his cousin,”Seriously?”

Sonny nodded,”You aren’t in the best condition at the moment. I’ll call them.” Usnavi stood up, lurching slightly,”I’ll be on the fire escape.”

Sonny dialed Rainbow’s number, trying not to think to deeply about what happened to Johan, not if he wanted to keep it together. He cleared his throat, as Rainbow answered the phone. “Hello, Usnavi?” Rainbow asked.

“No, it’s Sonny, Usnavi’s cousin.” Sonny said taking a deep breath.

“Oh! Have you heard anything from my brother?”

Sonny’s eyes felt hot and he squeezed them shut,”Not exactly.”

There was some muffled conversation on the other end and Sonny heard some faint shuffling, Rainbow’s voice came back concerned,”What happened? Is everything okay?”

Sonny shook his head,”No, you should come to New York though. Something happened. Johan is dead.”

Rainbow’s voice was quiet and disbelieving,”What? What happened?”

Sonny shrugged,”The cops think it was a hate crime.”

He heard Rainbow take a moment to try and calm her frantic breathing, her voice was trying to be level,”Let me talk to Usnavi.”

Usnavi came back into the living room after Sonny called for him, he took the phone from Sonny and hopped for his voice to not break,”Hello?” Rainbow’s voice was thick,”Is it true? Is my brother…. Is he dead?”

Usnavi rubbed his chest,”Yes, I’m sorry.”

Rainbow let out a sharp gasp and her voice was ,”Excuse me, I need to go.”

episode 8, clip 6 ☽ a thousand questions

[ play 24:45 - 29:19 ]

“Are you partied out already?”

Sana startles, and her head whips around to see Yousef drop down onto the bench next to her.

“Is it okay if I sit?” he asks.

She narrows her eyes. “You’re already sitting.”

“I can always get up. Don’t you think it’s important to ask?” he says, voice wry.

Keep reading
Movie Night - Episode 1

I couldn’t resist. If you guys like it, I’ll so as many chaps as movies :-)


Kara rode the elevator up, balancing the items in her hands while she tried to hold her cell phone between her cheek and shoulder.

“This is a stupid idea, isn’t it?” She asked her sister.

Keep reading

Monster Fortress headcanons: Rules of Wolf
  • Sniper is a very high maintenance pupper.
    • There are rules to taking care of your werewolf sniper.
  • He loves the water but don’t throw him in.
    • He will panic and Engie or Medic will have to get him onto land.
  • But he’s also a goddamn lap dog.
    • If someone is sitting on the couch he will curl up into a ball on their fucking lap and sleep there.
      • The rule is: if Mundy is sleeping in your lap, you cannot get up.
  • He also hates doctor visits.
    • He has to go to the vet like every other werewolf.
    • The team has to trick him by saying they’re going fishing or something just to get him in the van.
      • Once he realizes where they’re going he usually gets really nervous.
  • Also, don’t take away his chew toys.
    • He will maim anyone who tries to take his chew toys.
  • Mundy’s not allowed in Medic’s lab anymore.
    • He’s tried to eat Medic’s doves more than once.
      • He tries like once a week.
  • Also he has a bad habit of sticking his head out the window when driving.
    • This is why no one likes being in the camper while he’s driving.
  • And when he’s in his wolf formholy shit he can be a cuddler.
  • Head and behind the ear scratches are a must.
    • But he doesn’t like belly rubs.
  • Also, keep him away from cats.
    • He either chases them or yells at them.
      • Sometimes both.
  • He’s terrified of heights as well.
    • It’s ironic since he’s a sniper.
  • They have to sedate him just to get him on a plane.
    • He’s also put in a cage when they fly anywhere.

anonymous asked:

In the sith family au can we have obiwan be happy that he gets to meet his grandpa dooku and tahl finds it adorable that the great darth tyranus is cooing and spoiling a 6 year old obiwan kenobi.

Obi-Wan was not sure what he was supposed to think, when his parents told him that they were expecting important company. Every time they said that, it meant that they were meeting someone, who created plans with them. Young Obi-Wan had no idea what that meant, he just knew that he was usually not supposed to talk and interact with those people. His mother said they were dangerous and should be avoided by young little Sith.

But when this ‘important company’ finally arrived, Obi-Wan did not think that he was the same as all the others. No, decided the six year old, this man was different. He was proud and looked a lot better - and older - than the others his parents met. Also, Obi-Wan could feel the Force swirl around him. 

From his hiding place, he was actually peeking through a open door, he watched how his father’s shoulders were clasped tightly, though it seemed to be some kind of caress. 

“What is this,” a female voice whispered right into Obi-Wan’s ear, startling him and making him yelp out in surprise. He had not only alerted the strange man and his father to his presence, but he had also stumbled right into the living room. 

With wide blue-green eyes, Obi-Wan looked at the tall stranger. He was not as tall as his Daddy, but still very tall. All his attention was focused on the brown haired man, whose hair was starting to turn gray. 

“And who might that be?” even his voice sounded cultivated.

Obi-Wan did not dare to speak up, but thankfully, his father came to his rescue. “Master Yan, meet our son Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, meet my old Master Yan Dooku.” 

“It is very nice making your acquaintance, young Obi-Wan,” he inclined his head in a little bow.

Usually such words would not help breaking the ice for a six year old, but Obi-Wan was used to much worse. “Nice to meet you,” he answered instead with a small smile and a little bow. When he looked up again, the other man’s eyes had softened a little. He also felt warmer.

“Obi-Wan,” Tahl had followed her son after his hasty retreat into the living room after her little teasing, “Yan is…”

“Your grandfather,” Dooku did not let the female Sith finish. Immediately three pairs of eyes settled on him, but the oldest Sith in the room, ignored the surprise at his statement. 

Joy sparkled in Obi-Wan’s eyes and it echoed in the Force aura around him. 

Tahl could not quite believe what she was seeing and one brief glance in her husband’s direction told him everything he needs to know, he was just as shocked as she was, perhaps even more. There he was, the great Darth Tyranus, feared throughout the whole galaxy and by all the Jedi, sitting on their couch with a six year old in his lap. And that was not all, he was also listening to every story their young one could come up with , making comments and the appropriate noises just at the right times, meaning that he was truly listening. Also, he was discreetly handing their son cookies every now and then on which Obi-Wan would happily chew, allowing the adults to talk. It was a merry sight, yet also quite unusual. It was also hard to say, who felt more happy and content, Obi-Wan or his new grandfather.

“Grandpa?” Obi-Wan suddenly asked, ignoring the half eaten treat he was still holding.

“Yes my boy?” not even the endearment bothered the usually stoic and proud man.

“What is a Jedi… and why don’t you like them?” Qui-Gon realized that the boy must have been listening after all, at least a little bit.

“That my dear boy, is a long story. One, which I will tell you later.”

“Promise?” his eyes were impossible wide, his tone pleading.

“I promise.” That seemed to be enough for the youngest member of their small family, for he returned his attention to his half eaten cookie.

Tahl and Qui-Gon exchanged an amused look. At least now they knew, were they could ‘dump’ Obi-Wan, when they needed some alone-time…

Your baby is teething and end up gnawing on him (BTS)

Y/S/N: your son’s name

Y/D/N: your daughter’s name

Rap Monster: -he was holding your daughter in one arm and his phone in the other. He wasn’t aware she was teething til he felt the little teeth poking through her gums while she was chewing on his hand. So he was very happy to experience it- “oh my gosh baby our precious girl is growing up so fast”

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

Jin: -as soon as his daughter started crying he laid her down on him. He knew she was in pain from teething so he kinda let her chew on whatever she needed to to feel better. Even if it meant his shirt would get cover in drool- “Y/D/N really likes the material of my shirt against her gums”

Originally posted by vhope

Suga: -he wasn’t liking all the pain his baby boy was in. He would give him teething rings but he still seemed to cry. When he would have to refreeze the rings nothing seemed to compare to daddy’s fingers being gripped in his little hands to chew on- “I hope Y/S/N pain goes away soon. I will do anything to make him feel better"

Originally posted by jungsooneul

J-Hope: -he wanted nothing more than your daughter to be happy. She seemed to be happiest when she would be allowed to chew on his shirt. Her little mouth would leave a large amount of drool but he was okay with it.- “do you think she likes when I wear a shirt and she can chew on it or do you think I can just give her one to chew on?”

Originally posted by tbhobi

Jimin: -his little girl drooled a lot as she chewed on things but her favorite thing was Jimin’s fingers. He was very very happy every time she did it because he had a chance to feel her little teeth- “babe I think Y/D/N got a new tooth coming in. I can feel it pressing against her gums”

Originally posted by booptae

V: -your son wasn’t liking his new teeth coming in. Taehyung moved to his other shoulder as your son chewed happily on his father’s shirt. Taehyung was grossed out slightly by the amount of drool that was produced on him from such a little mouth. But he wasn’t gonna to deny him the relief the material provided- “my gosh how can such a tiny human create so much spit? Well at least he’s happy ”

Originally posted by taehanstic-baby

Jungkook: -your daughter got ice, ice cream, water rubbed on her gums. Whatever you or Jeongguk could think of to ease the pain she was going through. He smiled when she was just calm and content making cute sounds as she drooled all over his hands “she’s so happy when she has my fingers in her mouth. Its so cute and slightly disgusting when she does it”

Originally posted by donewithjeon

The Forging of the Wolf, Chapter 2

Chapter 1 is here.

It was the aching of his empty stomach that dragged Aedion reluctantly from sleep.  He had been dreaming of following a voice through trees in the dark, a laughing child’s voice that he could barely hear over rushing water.  No matter how fast he ran, the voice kept getting farther and farther away, until it disappeared entirely.  And though his heart was breaking at the loss of that voice, just as he was about to throw himself into the water after it, another came and made him pause.  A mature, female voice, that merely said, “She lives.”  The dream had shifted then, to Rhoe and a dream he had had many times in the past months.  This one had a basis in memory, the two of them sparring, Rhoe pausing occasionally to correcting his footwork or his grip.  As always, the dream ended with Rhoe asking, “Do you know what your most important weapon is?”  Every time, he woke with that question on his lips, but the answer never came.  Now he had that second voice, the one that give him a tiny spark of hope, echoing behind the question.  Even if he knew that any hope was false.

Something smelled wrong.  Though the musty smell of canvas mixed with mud and piss was universal in the war camps, there was a different note to it.  As that intruded onto his consciousness, he wondered why everything hurt.  Then he shifted and the shackles connecting his ankles and wrists clanked and pulled and he remembered.  He kept his eyes closed, sorting through the various sounds and scents drifting towards him.  He was alone on a slightly too short cot in a tent.  There was a guard outside.  Faint sounds of people beginning to stir were audible, and he thought he might not be imagining the distant warm scent of coffee.  Stifling his groan, he pulled himself into a sitting position and scanned his surroundings.  The rosy light of dawn came through the gap in the tent, which was so small he wouldn’t be able to stand upright in it.  The other cot was empty and looked as if it hadn’t been slept in at all.  In fact, there were only the barest traces of scents other than his own.  He wondered who the prior occupants had been, what had happened to them.  If either of them had been among the people he and Quinn had killed before Quinn had dropped at his feet and he had been taken.  With a surge of bile in his throat he remembered the feel of his sword plunging deep into a belly, the reverberation when the blade had barked against bone.   He rubbed his hands over his face, though his chains were short enough he had to bend his head to do it.  Pressing his fingers into his eyes, he took a deep breath and felt stabbing pain in his ribs.  The nausea subsided and with that his hunger and thirst surged.  They had fed him the previous night, a little meat and bread, but it was scant fare given how long he had gone without.

He got to his feet slowly, not wanting to hit the dirt if he rose too quickly while this light-headed.  There was a pitcher of water on the small table between the cots, and he poured a glass, then struggled to drink it due to the shortness of his chains.  Bastards.  He finally figured out that if he curled up on his cot he could manage to drink with only a little spillage.  After draining the pitcher his head cleared and he shuffled to the tent opening.  The guard turned, hand on his sword hilt, as he pushed through the flaps.  

“The prince emerges,” the man said sarcastically.  Aedion straightened to his full height and looked silently down at the guard.  The smaller man snorted.  “Lord Breiner requests your presence, Prince Ashryver.”  There was a distinct sneer in the tone.  “Follow me.”  He strode off at a rapid clip that Aedion struggled to match with his shackles.  Curious eyes turned to him as they passed by the ordinary soldiers who were going about their morning business.  The camp rhythms were no different than those he was used to - people eating, cleaning weapons, bantering, just as he had been a few days prior with a different flag overhead.  He glared at the crimson and gold wyvern that flew over the largest tent, the one they were heading to.  They passed by a tall fence, spiked on the top, and he could hear people moving and murmuring on the far side.  Prisoners.  He wondered why he was not among them.  

As they approached the big tent, its guard nodded to the man he was following.  “He’s expecting you, you can go right in.”  Aedion ducked into the tent behind his guide and straightened when he recognized the man from the night before.  The man who had been willing to torture an innocent girl just to get Aedion’s name, but who had vomited his guts up afterwards.  He didn’t know what to make of that, of him.  

“Well, puppy,” the brown-haired man said, gesturing to a chair.  Aedion sat down, eyeing the man warily.  “We just received word that the Terrasen Lords have surrendered and are suing for peace.  Your country now belongs to Adarlan.”  The words hit him like a physical blow.  For Darrow to surrender to the man who had killed King Orlon, for his countrymen to now be subjected to the whims of the monster in Rifthold…  “This means,” Breiner went on, “that you now officially belong to Adarlan.  General Paget just left to go aid in the negotiations of the surrender, but he ordered me to write to the King and ask what to do with you.  Technically, you may be considered next in line to the crown, since Rhoe Galathynius had no siblings and no surviving children.”

No surviving children.  The words hit him like stones, and for the second time that morning, bile stung Aedion’s throat.  That voice he had been following in his dream…  He rallied his strength, willing his agony not to show in his face.  “My understanding,” he forced out, “is that in the absence of a Galathynius ruler, the leadership of the country is turned over to the Lords.  I am not heir.  I am nothing to anyone who remains in Terrasen.”  

Breiner’s face was skeptical.  “That seems hard to believe, given the lengths they went to try to get you out.”

“Only because of my age.  Lord Darrow didn’t want me there at all but we needed every available sword.”

“And yet it did your people no good in the end.”

Aedion clenched his teeth and counted to ten to keep from rising to the bait.  “What am I to do here?”


“Excuse me?”

“You are to address me as Lord or Sir.  You are a prisoner of war and a member of my camp now.  Don’t make me remind you with another demonstration.”  He turned his attention to the papers in front of him in dismissal.  

Taking a deep, painful breath, Aedion asked, almost managing to keep the insolence out of his voice, “What am I supposed to do here, sir?”

Breiner did not look up from his paperwork.  “Iain will show you.  You will help with camp maintenance, and you are expected to join us for training.  You may go now.”

The guard - Iain, he supposed - gestured to him to follow, a smirk on his narrow face.  He hesitated for just a moment before obeying.  Thankfully, Iain said little as he brought them to the camp mess and removed the chain linking his hands to his feet, though he left the shackles on.  Aedion laid into the porridge, salt pork, and bread like a man starving.  Which, he supposed, he was.  When he finally surfaced for air, he realized Iain and several other soldiers were staring at him, mouths agape.

“What?” he asked, spraying a few crumbs.

“Leave some food for the rest of the soldiers,” Iain said.  

With the edge finally taken off his hunger, Aedion leaned back a little, stretching his long legs out in front of him with minimal clanking from the shackles, and took a leisurely bite of an apple.   Looking the guard up and down as he chewed, he allowed a slow smile to spread across his face.  “I’m twice your size, midget,” he drawled, “it makes sense I should eat twice as much.”  

Iain grinned and flicked his eyes to Aedion’s groin.  “I’m not sure you want to go comparing sizes there, whelp,” he replied, “at least not till your balls have dropped.”

This was familiar, no different than the usual verbal sparring that took place at every camp.  “If you wanted to see my balls, you should’ve just asked.  Though I’m not sure you’d even recognize real ones if you saw them.”  Everybody chuckled, and one of the soldiers - the shorter guard from the night before - gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder.   A part of him hated them for their easy acceptance of him after they had been involved in the destruction of his kingdom.  A larger part of him hated himself for seeking it.

His job for the morning was helping clean up the mess, a task that would have been much easier were he not still restricted by the chains, which kept catching on the tables and chairs.  Iain then fetched him and showed him the way to the weapons master to join a couple of the other boys in cleaning the weapons.  The sight and smell of the dried blood of his countrymen embedded in the blades and hilts made him want to use these blades to destroy every single one of the soldiers in the camp.  The master watched him closely as he stood staring at them, nostrils flaring, trembling fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to gain control of himself.

“It’s all right, son,” the man finally said.  “How about you oil the clean ones.”  The other boys were pretending not too be paying attention, but their eyes kept flicking to him over their task.  Gritting his teeth, he picked his way over to the end of the bench and sat, picking up the freshly cleaned blade the boy next to him had just set down.  The master set down a bottle of oil and a cloth, and Aedion stared at it for a moment before taking a deep breath and reaching for them.  He ignored the other boys, concentrating on the familiar task, ensuring the right amount of oil coated each fresh blade.  When the bell rang for lunch, the other two leaped to their feet and ran to the mess.  Aedion finished the dagger he had been working on and carefully placed in on the designated rack before looking towards the man who had been studying his work.  

“Nice job, you know how to properly care for a blade.”  He shook his head, disapproval spreading across his wrinkled face.  “Most boys want to swing them but don’t want to bother with making sure they’re fit for the job.  You’ve been trained well.  Go ahead on to lunch, now.  You look like you could use some food.”  Aedion nodded, his stomach growling loudly in agreement.  As he passed by, the man dropped a gnarled hand on his arm.  “It gets easier,” he said quietly.  Aedion shot him a questioning look but it was ignored.  After a long moment, he turned and shuffled towards the mess, and when he glanced over his shoulder the weapons master was just standing there, head bowed, staring at nothing.

After lunch, he was sent to the training area.  There were half a dozen other boys there, the youngest probably twelve, the oldest maybe sixteen or seventeen, and a few older men.  He was surprised there weren’t more given the size of the camp, but then recalled this place was not intended for training, but for an extermination.  Likely the boys were all sons of the higher-ranking warriors. Not able to do anything with his hands and feet still shackled, he sat on the slope overlooking the area and watched the warmup.  The men ignored him, while the boys kept glancing his way.  He scoffed at their lack of concentration.  Rhoe would’ve had his head for it.  Pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them, he studied their sloppy footwork.  He felt a man come up next to him. He could smell it was Breiner, but deliberately did not acknowledge him.  

“What do you think?” came the older man’s tenor voice.

“They lack discipline,” Aedion replied.  He waited a beat, then added, “Sir.”

There was a pause, then, “Would you care to elaborate?”

He snorted and gave a shrug.  “They keep gaping at me like I’m some exotic animal.  If they can’t concentrate here, when it’s quiet, how will they manage it in battle?  Plus their footwork is terrible.”  His mind flashed to the memory of the ground slippery with blood, the screams and groans of dying men around him, and how it felt to let all that become just a faint buzz as he brought his sword down on the shield of an unknown Adarlanian soldier.  How automatic it had been to keep his feet moving, to attack and retreat as if it were all a well-learned dance.  

Breiner sat down next to him.  “It so happens I agree with you.  It can be a challenge to keep so few boys disciplined.  I think it’s easier when they’re in a training camp with large numbers.”

“There were but a handful of us when I was training.”  He didn’t add that for the year before the assassinations it had been just he and Ren working so closely with Rhoe and his men.  Dark-haired, angry Ren, now also gone to the chopping blocks with the entire Allsbrook family.  The boys below moved on to working with practice swords, and while they paid better attention, their footwork still made them vulnerable.  He shook his head in disgust, and then noticed Breiner was studying him rather than the practice.  

“If I undo those shackles, will you go down and train with them?”

Aedion sorted through his thoughts for a moment.  He knew why Breiner was asking rather than ordering, that the camp lord was hoping to use him as a means of pushing the boys to work harder.  He didn’t know how he felt about making his enemy better.  At the same time, he would need to keep working or he’d lose ground.  Most of his body still hurt, not as fiercely as in the morning, but likely the increased movement would do nothing but help.  He also needed to figure out the dynamics here, what type of a leader this man beside him was. “What happened to that girl?”

“What girl?”

He was a bastard for not remembering.  “The girl you were willing to torture to get me to talk.”

“She’s back in the corral with her family, I assume,” he said indifferently.

“Who are the prisoners?  Why was she among them?”

Breiner shrugged.  “Most of them are villagers we took as we marched to battle.  I would guess she was one of those.  A few are soldiers who lay down their arms.”

“Why take the villagers?”

Another shrug.  “They were in danger where they were, should the battle be pushed back, and we wanted some leverage.  Plus now it lets us sort through who might be a danger to us at our leisure.  The rest will be released.”



Bastard, bastard, bastard.  “I’ll train with the others, if I can check on the prisoners personally.”

Breiner looked at him, nonplussed.  “I can order you to train.”

“Yes, but if you are looking for me to show these fools how to work properly, you need me to want to cooperate.”

“Or I can just throw you back in the pit.”

“You could do that.”  He slid his gaze back to the boys fumbling around on the turf in front of him.  Gods, they were terrible.  How the hell did Adarlan conquer everything if they couldn’t train better than this?

Breiner’s voice intruded on this thoughts.  “If you do as I ask, you can go and check on the prisoners.  With a guard.”

Aedion did not reply, merely held his hands out for Breiner to unlock his shackles.  The camp lord pulled a key out of his pocket, then looked at him before unlocking them.  “I want you to go through a basic warmup, then spar with whoever they order you to.  Show us what you can do.”  He inserted the key into first one manacle, then the other; they thudded to the ground, and he began rolling his wrists, then his shoulders as the lord freed his ankles.  He tried to hide the tightness of his muscles as he stood and walked down the slight hill, pausing at the edge to begin stretching.  A glance up the hill showed Breiner’s focus pinned on his every movement.  He’d have to make this good.


Erik watched the gangly boy shake off his stiffness, his movements slowly becoming more fluid.  He was a clever one, to not just leap at the chance to be free of his shackles, but to negotiate to see the prisoners.  Erik wished he hadn’t told the general the prince’s true identity.  While he still believed every man could be broken, he had realized the night before as he had vomited in the woods that he didn’t want to break this one.  He wanted to convert him.  He had watched him surreptitiously all day as he quickly found a foothold with the men and did his work efficiently and well despite his shackles.  Talking to him now, seeing him put his finger so adeptly on the weaknesses of the young trainees, only served to strengthen his belief this boy could be made into Adarlan’s greatest general if he could be won over.

Unfortunately, now that the King would learn who the blue-eyed, golden-haired young giant was, he doubted he’d have a chance.  It was only a matter of time before the King either took him to be broken or killed.  Ashryver began footwork drills, and now the boys blatantly stopped their work to watch him.  Even the instructors did.  Erik couldn’t blame them.  Despite his lanky height, the boy moved as if he was dancing, every step precise, clean.  It suddenly struck Erik that the boy hadn’t had a chance to get cleaned up or even gotten fresh clothes; his own were filthy and torn, and it was difficult from here to tell what marks on his face were dirt and what were bruises.  He’d have to make sure the boy got a chance to bathe, and he’d have to find him some clothes.

Just as he’d asked, Manas, the main instructor, paired Ashryver up with Burr once he was warmed up and ready to get to work with his wooden practice sword.  He was surprised to see the boy handle the sword with his left hand; he hadn’t paid attention when he’d come in at the end of the boy’s stand over the fallen Terrasen warrior’s body, but the way he did his footwork he would have thought him to be right-handed.  Burr was not quite as tall as the prince but much thicker and more muscled, having just turned seventeen.  He was also their most aggressive fighter, and the least likely to be interested in finesse.  Manas had expressed concern when he had recommended the pairing, thinking the age and weight difference might pose an issue, but Erik had merely replied, “It would do Burr good to get beaten into the dirt,” and Manas had let it go.

The two boys circled each other, then Burr moved in, as usual his aggression destroying his footwork and with it his balance.  Aedion simply stepped to the side, deflected Burr’s blade, and then smacked him on the ass with the flat of his own as the boy blew past him.  Burr was furious, whirling on the taller boy, trying to get the wooden blade into his neck, but Aedion dodged with ease and used his momentum against him, dumping him in the dirt just as Erik had predicted.  Manas and the other instructors were covering their mouths with their hands.  Erik could see Burr saying something to Aedion as he rose from the dirt, but couldn’t hear what the latter replied.  Whatever it was, it must have been good, because Burr launched on him in an all-out assault.  Aedion met the charge, blocking the blow and twisting his weapon so that he forced the blade out of Burr’s hand.  When Burr stupidly lunged at him, bare-handed, Aedion simply stepped into the rush, jabbing with an elbow just below the sternum.  The older boy hit the dirt again, gasping like a fish, the wind knocked out of him.  Aedion loomed over him, looking down in disgust, and Erik thought he heard him say in that still-changing voice, “Now this time, stay down.”  Sitting up on his hill, Erik began to grin.  

Ashryver went to Manas, dipped his head respectfully, and thanked him for the match; Manas told him next time they’d find him a better partner.  He returned the sword to the rack, and walked up to where Erik was still sitting.  “I didn’t realize you were left-handed,” Erik said.

“I’m not,” the boy replied.  “Now, when can I see the prisoners?”


An hour after the sparring match that was so pathetic it barely counted, Aedion was finally clean and was wearing some of Breiner’s old clothes.  They were a little big in the shoulders and the waist, but at least they were long enough.  The short guard from the night before, Deaghall, had replaced the shackles on his wrists and ankles and now brought him to the gate of the prisoner’s corral.  As they walked over, the small man asked, “So, is everyone in there going to go all ga-ga because there’s a bona fide prince among them?”

Aedion snorted.  “Hardly.  None of these people are going to have any clue who I am.”

Deaghall looked at him in astonishment.  “The people won’t recognize a prince of their realm?”

“I’m not a prince of their realm,” he replied.  “I’m technically a prince of Wendlyn.  Here I’m just a relative of the massacred royal family.  Maybe if we were closer to Orynth I might at least be recognized, but out here?”  He shook his head.

Deaghall nodded to the two fellow guards who opened the gate, and then followed Aedion through.  Most of the people were sitting on the ground in small groups, some leaning against the fence.  The low murmur of voices hushed when Aedion and Deaghall were noticed, and the people largely seemed to shrink back.  Aedion strode as boldly as his shackles would allow, keen eyes looking for any signs of the people being mistreated.  The slop buckets were overfull, the stench pronounced enough his eyes watered.  There were no cots or bedrolls, but there was a well at the far end with a bucket and ladle.  “Are they being fed?” he asked in an undertone.  Deaghall bristled.  “Of course they’re being fed.  We’re not monsters.  Ask any one of them.”

One of the older men, grizzled and bent, met Aedion’s eye.  He crouched down close to him.  “Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice.  The man nodded, his still-clear eyes tear bright.  “Are you getting enough food?”

“Yes, Prince,” the man said in a husky voice.  Aedion dropped his head at the honorific.  He had sincerely not thought he would be recognized, and the hope in the man’s face broke his heart.  He was powerless to help these people, they were at the mercy of Breiner and Adarlan now, and while he might have some reason for faith in the former, he had no trust in the latter.  Even with Breiner, he knew these people’s lives were worth less than his own cooperation.  He raised his face to the man again, and took his outstretched hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.  

Around the corral he went, chins dropping all around him, some pressing fingers to their lips.  There were tears in his own eyes now.  Pausing here and there to say a few words of sympathy, to squeeze a shoulder, he went to nearly every person in that pen.  One woman stood up and wrung his hand, crying “Thank you, thank you.”  He opened his mouth to ask her why, but then saw sitting behind her, cheek bruised and eyes wide, the girl from the night before.  Pulling away from the woman he assumed was her mother, he knelt before the girl and gently took her hand.  

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked softly, and the tears rolled down her face as she shook her head.  He touched her bruised cheek gently, the moisture wicking onto his fingertips.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  He wanted to say more, but didn’t know what.  Then everyone around him was reaching for him, just brushing fingers against his arms, his hair.  He didn’t understand.  He was just as lost and trapped as they were, just as conquered.  He had failed to save anyone who meant anything to him but these people, these prisoners of war…he could see hope flare in their eyes as they touched him.

When Deaghall cleared his throat and the prisoners backed away, Aedion stood slowly.  He felt the guard’s hand on his back, guiding him through the gate, then back to his tent, but he wasn’t really seeing his surroundings.  Sitting on his cot, all he could think of was Aelin, his tiny cousin, crackling with flame and passion and joy.  If only he had ridden out when Orlon had been assassinated, maybe he could have saved that bright flame from being drowned in the river.  Maybe in doing so, he could have saved Terrasen.  But she was gone, small body lost to the icy water, and his heart and hope with her.  Still, somebody had to stand for Terrasen.  Somebody had to protect his country, even now that its lords had given up, even now that it belonged to Adarlan.  For those people who had pressed gentle hands to a fellow prisoner who maybe somehow still represented the glory of a kingdom, he would have to try.

He had not been allowed anything sharp, so he sank his own teeth into his palm until blood welled.  Clenching his fist, he allowed three drops to hit the dirt between his feet, and he swore his vow to Terrasen, to Aelin, to Rhoe and Orlon and Evalin and Quinn.  To the old man and the young girl now a mere hundred hards away.  He would do whatever he had to to protect its people, their people.  His people.  If he had to sell himself to Adarlan, he would do so.  If he had to lie or kill or steal, if he had to become another person entirely, he would not fail them as he had failed his family.  He would find a way.  

100 things that Robin (Dick Grayson) is no longer allowed to do:
  1. Not allowed to watch TV while on patrol.
  2. Not even if it’s a slow night.
  3. My proper title in the field is “Robin” not “The Fun One,” “The Guy With a Sense of Humor,” “Smart and Handsome,” “Fashionista,” “Sexy Pants,” “Robin’ Your Heart,” or anything but “Robin.”
  4. Not allowed to threaten anyone with “Romany magic.”
  5. Not allowed to challenge anyone’s disbelief in said magic by asking for personal items.
  6. Not allowed to get any body altering-surgeries, except if absolutely necessary for preservation of life.
    6a) “Necessary for preservation of life” applies only when judged to be so by an adult authority figure.
  7. Captain Marvel does not qualify as an adult authority figure.
  8. Not allowed to play “assassin” with a suction-cup dart pistol and any member of the GPCD or JLA.
  9. Not allowed to add classmates I dislike to the Bat-Computer villain database.
    9a) Not even if they’re bullies.
  10. Not allowed to print “Batman-approved” stickers and sell them to supplement my allowance.
    10a) Not allowed to print “Bat-approved” stickers and sell them to supplement my allowance.
    10b) Not allowed to print “Robin-approved” stickers and sell them to supplement my allowance.
    10c) Not even if I do approve the product.
    10d) Not allowed to print stickers.
  11. Not allowed to monetize my crime-fighting persona in any way, shape, or form.
  12. Not allowed out of my bedroom when President Luthor visited Gotham.
  13. God may not contradict any of my orders.
    13a) No deity may contradict any of my orders.
    13b) No mythical creature may contradict any of my orders.
  14. May no longer perform my “Bobbin’ Robin Dance” while in uniform.
    14a) May no longer perform my “Bobbin’ Robin Dance.”
  15. May not call any member of the GCPD or JLA unflattering names, even if I’m right.
    15a) Exceptions may be made for Green Lantern Hal Jordan.
  16. Must not taunt extra-terrestrials any more.
  17. Must attempt not to antagonize extra-terrestrial ambassadors.
  18. Must never ask Batman if he’s been smoking crack.
    18a) Due to the very real possibility of an unknowingly drugged Batman, however, I may run blood tests at my discretion.
    18b) “At my discretion” does not mean whenever I’m ticked off at Batman.
    18c) I am not permitted to run a blood test without the knowledge, approval, and cooperation of Alfred or an adult member of the JLA.
    18d) Green Lantern Hal Jordan’s knowledge, approval, and cooperation is not sufficient in order to run a blood test.
  19. Not allowed to train stray dogs to follow Batman and Robin.
  20. I do not have “Samson-like powers” and for as long as I live under Bruce Wayne’s roof I am required to keep my hair cut to a reasonable length.
    20a) Alfred Pennyworth is the sole judge of what constitutes “a reasonable length.”
  21. Must not tell any member of the GCPD or JLA that I am smarter than they are, especially if it’s true.
    21a) Exceptions may be made for Green Lantern Hal Jordan.
  22. Must never confuse rational extraterrestrials with extraterrestrial plants, animals, or rock formations.
  23. Never tell Martian Manhunter that “We’re gonna conquer Mars!”
  24. Don’t tell alien abduction jokes in front of extraterrestrial members of the JLA, even if they’re really funny.
  25.  Never take the batteries out of Alfred’s alarm clock (Even if I want to sleep in on the weekend).
  26. The Green Lanterns, Green Arrow, and Martian Manhunter are not “After me frosted lucky charms.”
  27. Not allowed to wake my teammates by repeatedly banging on the head with a bag of trash. If I do I deserve whatever I get.
  28. Not allowed to let sock puppets take responsibility for any of my actions.
    28a) Not allowed to delegate any of my responsibilities to sock puppets.
  29. Not allowed to chew gum on patrol.
    29a) Not allowed to chew gum in bed.
    29b) Not allowed to chew gum.
  30.  Can’t have flashbacks to wars I was not in.
  31. It’s “Dr. Thompkins,” not “Dr. Feelgood.”
  32. Not allowed to ask for the day off on the basis that the world is going to end.
    32a) Not even if the world is going to end.
  33. I do not have super-powers.
    33a) I do not need to inform criminals that I do not have super-powers.
  34. Motivational posters are not allowed in the Bat-cave.
  35. Face paint is not a mask.
  36. I am not authorized to officiate a wedding.
  37. I am not authorized to fire members of the GCPD or JLA.
  38. I am not authorized to fire Batman.
  39. Not allowed to trade Bat equipment for “magic beans.”
  40. Not allowed to sell magic beans while on patrol.
    40a) Not allowed to sell magic beans.
  41. May not make posters depicting the failings of any adult authority figure in my life.
    41a) Exceptions may be made for Green Lantern Hal Jordan.
  42. Batman’s decisions do not need to be ratified by a ¾ majority.
  43. Evil clowns are not a joke and I will not tell Batman or Alfred that there is one under my bed unless there is actually an evil clown under my bed.
  44. There is no “Anti-Mime campaign” and I do not need to paint my face in solidarity.
  45. I may not wear a tinfoil hat while on patrol unless informed otherwise.
  46. I am not authorized to prescribe medication.
  47. I may not trade Batman, Alfred, or any member of the JLA or GCPD to any foreign entity.
    47a) Extraterrestrials qualify as a foreign entity.
  48. I may not file for excused absences with my school on the grounds that “I was kicking serious bad-guy butt.” Even though it’s true.
  49. The bottom half of my Robin uniform is not optional.
    49a) The top half of my Robin uniform is not optional.
    49b) No part of my Robin uniform is optional. I picked it out, I have to wear it.
  50. Not allowed to quote Dr. Seuss to Martian Manhunter as “The greatest earth poet ever to live.”
  51. Not allowed to ask extraterrestrial members of the JLA about the “Giant Space Ants.”
  52. I am not to take orders from the “Giant Space Ants.”
  53. I am not the “Bad cop.”
  54. I am not allowed to steal any component of Batman’s uniform with the express purpose of mocking him.
    54a) I am not allowed to steal any component of any JLA member’s uniform with the express purpose of mocking him or her.
    54b) Exceptions may be made for Green Lantern Hal Jordan. 
  55. I am not allowed to take any Bat equipment to school for show-and-tell.
  56. The bats in the Bat-cave are wild animals, not pets, and I must not try to train any of them to perch on my finger.
  57. The bats in the Bat-cave belong in the Bat cave, not in the living room, not in any of the bedrooms, and absolutely not in the pantry or kitchen.
  58. I cannot arrest children for being rude.
    58a) I cannot arrest adults for being rude.
    58b) Being rude is not a punishable offence.
  59. I am neither the king, queen, princess, prince, duke, duchess, baron, baroness, lord, or lady of cheese and may not exact levies, tolls, or taxes on anyone who wishes to eat cheese.
  60. If I ever put a potato in the Bat-mobile’s exhaust pipes again I will lose all front-seat privileges for the rest of my life.
  61. May not refer to Alfred as “Mom.”
  62. May not form any press gangs.
  63. May not switch the coffee out for decaf. Ever.
  64. May not challenge members of the GCPD or JLA to “the field of honor." Especially not the metahumans.
  65. I may not attempt "Something I saw in my cartoons last Saturday.”
  66. I may not inform reporters that Bruce Wayne is actually Superman.
    66a) I may not inform reporters that Alfred is actually Batman.
  67. Crucifixes, garlic, and silver do not ward off Batman and I should not test that theory.
  68. “To kick bad-guy butt while wearing a ridiculous outfit” is a bad long-term goal to give my school counselor. Even though it’s true.
  69. Must not take out the Bat-mobile with the express purpose of “squishing” things.
  70. I must not confess to crimes that took place before I was born.
  71. I do not get “That time of month” and I am not given time off for “Aunt Flo’s visit.”
  72. Not allowed to taunt Commissioner Gordon with cigarettes when he’s trying to quit smoking.
  73. Not allowed to use “It’s okay, my guardian’s rich” as an excuse for anything.
  74. If the idea of something makes me laugh for an extended period of time it is safe to assume that I am not permitted to do it.
  75. Must not mock Batman in front of the press.
  76. I am not allowed to preface the disclosure of any previously sustained injury with “Hey, watch this!”
  77. The chandeliers in the manor are off limits. No exceptions.
  78.  "Give it a few weeks" is not an appropriate response to the news of a JLA member’s death.
    78a) Not even if I turn out to be correct afterwards.
  79. I am not permitted to send written applications for the position of “Sidekick” to any other superhero. 
  80. Being grounded does not qualify me as a hostage and I shall not call the police.
  81. His name is Penny-one in the field, not “Bat-butler.”
  82. I am not to use a broadsword in an attempt to disprove “The pen is mightier than the sword.”
  83. Alfred is not old enough to have fought in the War for American Independence and I should stop implying that he did.
  84. Any song with a verse past number four must never be sung ever again.
    84a) Every line of “99 bottles of beer on the wall” counts as one verse.
  85. Putting candy into a prescription bottle and then downing them all at one go in full sight of an adult authority figure is not funny and I will be given an emetic every time I do so.
  86. Potentially dangerous substances belong in the Bat-cave, not in my bedroom.
  87. I am to sleep in my bed, not on the canopy, under the mattress, on the floor, or anywhere else in the bedroom.
  88. If I become hungry on patrol I may ask for a protein bar from Batman: I may not go “Trick-or-treating,” begging, or ask for payment from any citizen in the form of food.
  89. It is not okay to hide in the morgue in order to scare the medical examiner.
  90.  Video games are not training exercises.
  91. I do not need “a more suitable host body.”
  92. I am not to label things in the Bat-cave any more.
  93. The phrase “Holy ____, Batman” is only permitted once per night.
  94. “I’m drunk” is a bad response to any question posed to me by the press. I am not drunk, and saying otherwise is a good way to get the CPS to show up.
  95. The JLA comm link is not a forum on which for me to voice my opinions.
  96. Putting out advertisements for a ‘replacement Batman’ is not an acceptable way to vent frustrations.
  97. I am not permitted to form a “Robin fan-club” and request funding from Bruce Wayne for the same.
  98.  I am not permitted to steal JLA equipment in order to pass it off as my science fair project for school. If I left my project until the last minute it is then my duty to make a crappy baking-soda-and-vinegar volcano and take the ‘C’.
  99. When Batman engages a suspect, fetching popcorn is not the appropriate response.
  100. I am not to call the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement on extraterrestrial members of the JLA.
Puppy Protip

Do dogs see in black and white?

Nope! This is the colour spectrum as perceived by your best mate:

(Not mine)

As you can see, they perceive yellow and blue quite well. For that reason, I recommend using these colours in your training kit, especially for target tools. We also sometimes see owners who try to mark things (often with red marker or red tape) that puppy is not allowed to chew or go near. Guess why it doesn’t work?

side note: it’s forever hilarious that the most popular colour in pet products, by far, is red. Looking at you, Kong.