“Local police received a dozen similar reports in the last few months. Criminals going missing, junkies mysteriously vanishing, victims calling in, claiming that their assailants were attacked mid-crime.”
I refuse to change “sebaciel” to “sebastre”. It’s still not proven what their names are. But even if Sebastian’s Ciel will be a different name i will still refer to him as “ciel” the other one can be called a two legged rat or something.
Don’t you get it? We’re nothing to them. Rats, snuck in from beyond the Wall. Sure, they had a use for us, when they realized we could work their magic. So they handpicked us from all the other rats out there and just let us nibble away at his royal majesty’s precious power.
For the prompt:okay but what i need now is a fic where bellamy
finds out what clarke did. lol Like… imagine that abby didn’t
destroy the radiation chamber and clarke actually goes in. imagine bellamy
hooks up with that girl and someone barges into his room to tell him what
happened back at the lab and yeah. — @puppymorley
Title inspired by Softness, no.
8 by Albert Alexander Bukoski
Bellamy had never
been shy about his sexual exploits, per se. Though he hated to admit it, there
were many days that his lunch breaks on the Ark were spent boasting about his
most recent conquest to his buddies on the guard, back when he was young and
stupid and just wanted a few minutes to be a jackass teenager. And even when
they’d first landed on the ground, he knew that more than one of the rumors
that had circulated around the camp had centered around his ability to handle
more than one woman at a time. No matter how much this world had aged him, at
the end of the day, he was still just a 23-year-old guy who, like most of them,
really fucking loved sex. Sue him.
But that didn’t
mean he was particularly thrilled by Harper barging in on him naked and high
and pressed up against some girl he barely knew.
sorry,” she sputtered, her arm darting up to block the view of the bed. He grappled
for the sheets, pulling them over Bree and himself. When he saw that her head
had turned, he reached for the boxers that lay crumpled on the floor next to
“What the fuck, Harper?”
“Look, sorry, but
it’s an emergency,” she said, eyes firmly fixed on the wall ahead of her.
The tea he’d
downed at the bar was still in his system, as evidenced by the way the room
spun when he reached for his shirt a few feet away and struggled to pull it
over his head.
“So much of an
emergency that you couldn’t knock?”
Where this came from? Good question. It popped into my head last night and I knew I needed to write it. This one is probably going to be a chaptered fic, but I’m not sure if it will be romance or friend ship yet.
Trigger warnings: Violence, mentions of death, really vague mentions of rape, and swearing
Being able to shape shift from one animal to another could be really cool, you learned that from experience. When your parents were still alive you would shift to your (hair color) haired cat. It was a fun party trick which you did only with your loving family. You were treasured for being ‘extraordinary’ and special child. It was a fun relaxing life as a human kitten hybrid.
Being able to shapeshift into a cat could also be very useful, a lesson you learned from a different experience. After your parents perished you needed to fend for yourself, sometimes strangers were more kind to a kitten starved and thin that a little child in tattered clothes begging for food to survive. Other times being a cat meant you could twist around in small spaces and reach hard to get food when you needed it.
Being able to shapeshift into a cat could also really suck, an experience you are learning right now.
““Mr. Jefferson it would mean a great deal to me…” George sat on his bed, illness taking him hostage for a few days, “if you kept an eye on Alexander.”
How dare the president wave his authority like that? Washington and Jefferson had a professional history. Jefferson was his choice to be appointed as a member of his cabinet not to babysit his heated, loud mouthed orphan George had allowed to run rampant through the halls. Thomas had half the mind to tell Washington he wouldn’t stand for this sort of insult on his behalf…However, he was ill. The man barely took time for his health, if it wasn’t the country he was worrying about it was the people he cared about. Hamilton included.
No harm would come if Thomas glanced at Alexander’s office once or twice, just to be sure he was still (sadly) moving along with his outrageous proposals. So he did, the first day early in the morning he stopped by Alexander’s desk and found him with two other men holding papers for him as he read through them like a mad man.
Strange, he was hectic even in his own office, his own domain he was wild. There was no ceasing to his flame. Nevertheless he was alive and Thomas did his part. Day two rolled around he did the same and just as before he found Alex acting strange in his own office. He was pacing, rocking on his heels as he twisted and fiddled with his fingers in mid air. Counting? No he was calculating, as if solving an invisible equation in midair. He looked so studious in this light. Fresh in the morning and already sporting his reading glasses and twitching like a high strung professor.
“What do you want, Jefferson?” Alex sneered having caught the man not so subtly watching. “See something you like? Perhaps a man with a real grasp on this nation’s necessities?”
Never mind that then, Thomas shook his head and banished all soft thoughts of a handsome Hamilton. He was nothing but a rat of a man, a vermin living in an office and left nothing but the stench of dead ambitions and crooked schemes.
The third day came and Thomas had arrived a bit too early, no one had seemed to be around. He had nearly forgotten to peek into Alex’s room merely because he figured no man would be at work at this hour. His glance turned into a stare when he found Alex hunched over his desk. Hands pressed against the surface as he leaned in, hair a brown mess that waved down passed his shoulders and dangled as he struggled to read. Thomas could see from afar his arms were shaking. It was only a matter of time until–
“Shit…” Alex muttered the moment his arms gave out and three days worth of no sleeping and staying at his office bit him in the ass. Alex prepared himself for the impact of his body hitting the ground but instead he was leaned up against a sturdy and warm object. Soft velvet and the faint smell of lavender invaded his senses. He tired to shift his weight so he could look up but was hushed by a worried, Southern voice.
“Careful now, ya’ hear?” Thomas whispered with a foreign nurturing voice. The same voice he used for his girls whenever they needed a touch of kindness. “How long have you been at this?”
Still dazed from all that was happening and the lack of sleep, “three days…maybe four…” Alex yawned and slowly started to pull away. “Unhand me Jefferson.”
“Four…days?” Thomas repeated his arms still held out and slightly ghosting over Alex’s uneasy frame. “Are you telling me you haven’t gone home? Eaten? Bathed?”
“I will when I have this document done, it must be done by the time George returns to office.” Hamilton pressed, “Not like you care for hard work. Some of us take pride in what we do because Washington trusts me.”
“Tch” Thomas sucked his teeth in annoyance. “Does he? Is that way he asked me to check up on you? Because he trusts you’ll act like a responsible adult? Oh how you’ve disappointed yet another father figure” Jefferson aimed low and to his surprise was not met with a comeback. Hamilton’s eyes softened.
“Washington asked…for you to check up on me?”
“And you complied?”
“He is my president why wouldn’t I?” In that moment they both shared the same thought. Thomas could have pretended. He could have lied and ignored Alex, then told George all was fine. Instead, Thomas stayed true to his word, he watched Alex in the morning just as George would have wanted. “He cares about you, I suppose someone must if you’re hell bent on ending your career early like this.”
“I don’t need to be watched like some child.” Alex bit back, now the anger began to build. “I can take care of myself just fine.”
“Is that why I caught you before that brilliant mind of yours took a hit to the peripheral cortex?” Thomas challenged back, realizing he had called him brilliant. Or rather his mind, yes his mind was a separate thing. Alexander was the salt of the earth but at least he had a mind head of his time. He was educated…dedicated…Thomas could see why Washington protected hims so.
“I suppose I should get some tea at the very least…and sit…”
“I suppose that is a good of a choice as any though the shower would have been preferred.” He smirked in a teasing fashion. “Come, I believe we can spot some tea in the next gathering room” Thomas motioned for Alexander to follow.
Alexander did, with a chuckle and no less backtalk. “Careful there Jefferson, I might take you up on the offer and let you bathe me~”
“I-I NEVER SAID–”
“What was that about tea?” Alex interrupted, for one morning, Thomas and Alexander shared nothing but soft laughter by a burning kettle.
“If you look closely, you can see the paint is chipped and slowly flaking off. Gav hides behind all of that gold in order to hide the black void underneath. When he moved here from England he was nothing more than a street rat. His dumb ass decided to pickpocket Geoff and take his car keys, but of course Geoff could feel his hand slip into his back pockets. Geoff followed him into an ally in recruited him into the Crew.”
Prompt: Heyy, if
you’re up for it, can I request an imagine where Negan was coach before the
apocalypse (your 18-19 now) and he finds
you by the road, realising you were his
student and he takes you back to the Sanctuary and is really protective of
you?? Sorry if it’s too long, love your blog <3 – Via @maddiemoo16602
Ships: None Words: 1,369 Warnings: Curses Category: Angst with a dash of fluff
You were walking down a street of an abandoned town,
dilapidated houses either side of you. You kept your eyes peeled for any sort
of movement. You heard nothing except the winds rushing through broken windows
and long absent streets.
Ivy crawled up the once neatly panelled houses like a
parasite. The neatly trimmed lawns and flowers which may have once been well
kept and colourful were now overgrown with weeds which had killed the beautiful
roses and daisies that once bloomed there long ago.
Your stomach rumbled as it had been for the past week. You
had eaten nothing but a dead rat and even then you only ate half of it, its
milky eyes felt although it was staring at you from beyond the grave.