prompt 2014

jumpybox  asked:

Raph with the “ do me a favor, kiss my ass. ” phrase please?

“Let me go outside, Leo!”
“No. Nobody leaves this lair on their own, especially not tonight.”
“Why are ya always tellin’ me what ta do?!”
“Because I’m the leader here. You know that, Raphael. Now go and lift some weights.“
The red-clad turtle growled and snarled like a caged animal. How could his ‘perfect’ brother always keep his cool? It was maddening! Couldn’t he just once raise his voice? Couldn’t he just once lose his damn patience? 
He was very much capable of going outside on his own. He was a frickin’ tank! 
He looked at his big brother, every trace of respect in his face replaced by built-up anger as he spat, “Do me a favor and kiss my ass, Leo!” and made his way to the punch bags. 

Constant

One-shot written for Royai Week 2014, for prompt “Constant”. Weekly fics every Tuesday. Comments and reviews always welcome, I also read tags.

Read on FF.net // Read on AO3


Riza stepped out of the bathtub in her hotel room and wrapped her body with a towel. She had been very careful not to get her hair wet; she couldn’t afford to ruin the beautiful hairdo that Garfiel, a friend of Winry’s from Rush Valley, had so kindly offered to do earlier that morning. While keeping her side bangs, she wore a bun from which a few tresses fell delicately to her shoulders in the shape of soft curls.

Edward’s wedding would take place in only two hours, and she was glad they had asked her to be the maid of honor; Roy, on his part, would be the best man. As happy as she was for the young couple tying the knot, she was also enjoying the process of dressing up and couldn’t wait to see her reflection once she was ready. It wasn’t often she attended formal celebrations.

When she was done with her make-up, she dropped the towel and walked to the bed where her dress was waiting. It was a long-length, sleeveless, turquoise gown that covered entirely her back and neck; perfect for her needs.

She heard Black Hayate approaching her and she turned her head to look at him, but something else called her attention. Behind her on the wall there was a huge mirror, much bigger than the one she had in her apartment. As such, since she was still only in her panties and her back was facing the glass, she could see every detail of her damaged tattoo.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen it before, but more times than not, she had evaded seeing it if she had any intentions of ending her day with some peace of mind.

The transmutation circle etched in her skin was a constant reminder of things that had only brought her pain: her father losing his mind over alchemy which estranged their relationship; her body being used as an object; the burden of carrying a dangerous secret, and having to undress in front of someone if she deemed the person worthy of that knowledge; and every single person who was murdered because she had chosen to trust.

The burn scars that obscured the tattoo, on the other hand, were the constant reminder that she had been set free, laying down the bonds to her father and alchemy, becoming an individual with total control of her body instead of staying a human notebook. Burning the most important parts of the circle hadn’t erased the deaths it had been responsible for, but there would never be another Flame Alchemist, at least.

She decided to stop thinking about those things for the moment and concentrate on the wedding. She put her dress on, one leg at a time. Then she pulled up the zipper on her back—it got stuck. She froze with worry, but was quick enough to tell herself to take a deep breath and not panic about it. Reaching down from over her shoulder, she tried to extend her arm and grab the little object, but didn’t quite get to it. She tried to pull it back down, see if she could fix the problem taking the dress off and holding it in front of her. It didn’t move downwards either.

Frustrated, she pondered over her options. Ripping it off was one of them, and then she would have to desperately ask every woman in Resembool if by any chance they had a spare dress she could wear. Another option could be not attending the wedding at all, which was immediately crossed out of her mental list, since she was the maid of honor and it would be taken as a terrible insult. She sighed and looked at the phone. She knew what she had to do; she just wished she didn’t have to resort to that.


She opened the door to find Roy Mustang in the hallway. He had a grin on his face and started to talk as she let him in.

“Fullmetal had some sort of nervous breakdown; you should have seen-”

He silenced himself and stood immobile for a moment when he noticed her appearance. He scanned her from head to toe, taking in her beauty.

“You look wonderful!” he said breathlessly.

She smiled wryly. “Thanks.”

He frowned; he knew he had been called for something specific. “What is it?”

She pursed her lips. “I need your help.” She turned around and showed him her back. Half of her tattoo was covered by the dress; the other half was still visible. “It got stuck,” she explained. “I couldn’t even take it off.”

He flinched as he understood her problem. Nobody but the two of them knew about the Flame Alchemy transmutation circle on her skin. She couldn’t have just asked anyone for help; no one else should know about it.

He nodded and walked until he stopped behind her. He had learned the circle by heart; had seen her naked back a hundred times. For him, too, it was a constant reminder of what he had done. If she hadn’t showed it to him in the first place, he wouldn’t have used its power to kill innocents. If he hadn’t used its power to kill innocents, she wouldn’t have asked him to burn her. If; if…

He got a hold of the slider, and after a little struggle, he managed to fix it. He pulled it up, his fingers softly brushing her skin, and he felt her shiver.

He lay a hand on her shoulder. “There,” he said, and removed his hand as she turned to look at him.

She smiled sincerely. “Thank you. I hope I haven’t caused any setbacks.”

He shook his head. “Only for yourself. But there’s still some time, don’t worry.”

“No, I’m done now.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going barefoot?”

Her eyes grew wide. “Oh!”

He laughed. “I’ll leave you alone, so you can get ready,” he said walking towards the door.

“Yes. Thank you, General. See you at the reception.”

He held the door handle and faced her with a smirk. “If you think you’ll need help later, I volunteer to take off your dress.”

He got out and closed the door before being hit by the pillow that was thrown across the room.

SSM Day 27

Title: Say that Again
Summary: As Sakura’s pregnancy moves along, Sasuke tries to restrict her activities more—but Sakura is growing less and less patient every day.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto.  Everything ended perfectly–but I want more Uchiha babies.
Prompt: Misguided from day twenty-eight of the SasuSakuMonth Prompts.
Rating: T
Words: 5.079
Warning(s): Feelings of worthlessness
Author’s Note: One of the things I love about Sakura most are her insecurities—her “imperfections” make her so much more real to me. So, I thought I would explore one of her deepest fears and how I imagined it might reveal itself during her pregnancy with Sarada.


“What did you say, Sasuke-kun?” the words were sickly sweet dripping off her tongue and her famous false smile decorated her plush mouth, “I don’t think I heard you right.”

Through narrowed bottle-green eyes, Sakura observed the smallest quiver of Sasuke’s adam’s apple as he swallowed discretely. He knew she was angry. Good. Now, the smug bastard just needed to do some serious back-peddling and everything could return to normal.

If only life was that simple.

“I said you should stop working at the hospital,” Sasuke repeated, meeting her gaze squarely, “You’re in no shape to be healing.”

Sakura saw red.

“Excuse me?” she snarled, giving up any pretenses of pleasantness as she stalked in his direction, “Since when are you my doctor, Uchiha?” She poked his chest, and Sasuke flinched despite himself; it would definitely bruise. “You have no idea what type of shape I’m in or what I’m capable of!”

“I don’t have to be a medic to know that spending twelve hours on your feet is not healthy for any pregnant woman, Sakura!” Sasuke retaliated lowly.

“I’m not giving up the hospital!” Sakura shouted, planting her fists on the sides of her swollen stomach.

Although Sasuke wasn’t yelling, irritation was marked in the extreme control he was exerting over his breathing. “You’re hormonal and not thinking clearly,” he growled through clenched teeth, “We’ll have this conversation again when you’ve grown up and realized your being extremely selfish. Perhaps my talking to Tsunade will help you see reason.” With that threat, Sasuke stiffly turned away from her and stalked into their bedroom.

Did he really just threaten to tell on her?

“It’s my body! I know my limits!” Sakura screeched at Sasuke’s retreating back, “And it’s my hospital, so I’ll work there as long as I damn well please!!”

The door she slammed behind her could have sent cracks through the walls, but Sakura wasn’t sure. She never looked back to check.

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3

London teenager Alice Gross went missing after going for a walk on the 28th August 2014, prompting the biggest search operation in the city since the London bombings 9 years earlier.  Sadly, the investigation turned into a murder enquiry when the 14-year-old’s naked body was found  in the river Brent, concealed in bin bags and weighed down with bricks.  She had been sexually assaulted, and drugged with Ghb.

The prime suspect in the murder was Latvian builder Arnis Zalkalns, who had arrived in the UK in 2007 after serving 7 years in prison for murdering his wife.  As the hunt for the perpetrator intensified, Zalkalns’ body was found in a park on 4th October.  He had hanged himself from a tree.

Throes

Genre: Romance/Smut/Angst

Rating: M

Pairing(s): Makorra

Excerpt: He always tells himself it’s the last time as he helps her reach her high.  He always tells himself that he won’t let his eyes linger on the swell of her breasts, a sign she always takes to mean that he wants her to drag him into the nearest closet and have her way with him.  Because they’re just friends and friends don’t play cops and robbers until they’re lying on the living room floor naked and panting.

A/N:  For Makorra Smut Week - (2) Friends

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New Year Journaling Prompt -- 2014 in Review

Happy New Year to all my lovely friends and followers! In celebration, I’m sharing a journal prompt/excerpt from my self-published ebook Journaling Your Goals: Prompts, Motivation, and Advice to Help You Achieve Your Dreams!

Assuming that most of you notebook fiends have gotten shiny new journals for the holidays that you’re itching to write in, here’s a little something you can fill them with.

This is a fantastic New Year’s exercise for processing the events of the past year and looking forward to the next!

2014 in Review

  1. Get a piece of paper (or open to two blank pages in your journal) and divide it into two sections. You’ll be creating two lists.
  2. Write the date at the top. Don’t set a timer. Get cozy if needed – pajamas, slippers, mug of tea, the works. Give yourself space to think and write.
  3. Think of the past year of your life: all the good things, all the bad. The joys and sadnesses. The defining moments. The things that have changed you, helped make you into the person you are now.
  4. One list is for the sweet memories, and the other list is for the bitter. Write down all the happy memories you can think of on one side. Don’t skimp. No matter how minor a joy, write it down. All the tiny successes of life, the things you feel proud of, the friends you’ve made — anything that made you feel good. Anything that helped you grow.
  5. On the other side, write down the sad memories. All the things that upset you, depressed you, embarrassed you. The places where you failed, the friends you are sorry to lose, all the bad days.
  6. Study the two lists. Which one is longer? Are you a person who seems to focus on all the good things or the bad things? If you have more bad things listed than good, do you think that’s because more bad things have happened to you? Or is it because you remember them better?
  7. Now go through each item and give it a score of 1-5. 1 means that it barely affected you while 5 means that you consider it a defining moment of the year. Give each item on your list a score.
  8. Tally up each side. Which had the higher number? You may have had more bad things happen, but maybe the good things affected you more. Or maybe you’re pretty satisfied with your life, but this year was a particular struggle and a lot of bad things happened.
  9. What do you think this indicates? What does it say about the year you’ve had? How can you overcome the difficulties? How can you appreciate the joys?
  10. Now all of that washes away. You’re starting fresh. This is an opportunity to start over. All the good stuff, all the bad stuff? Let it fade into the background. You have a new year to start preparing for, and you have the opportunity to make it the best one yet.
  11. Visualize the kind of year you want to have. How it is different from the last? What has to change in order for you to experience it? Write a few sentences about your hopes for the future.
  12. Want some direction to help you create goals and resolutions for the new year? Check out Journaling Your Goals  – at only US$2.99, it costs less than a coffee and will help you use your notebook as a tool for achieving your dreams.

There’s a seductive thrill to blank pages. It’s the same kind of thrill I get at the beginning of a school year, during the New Year, and at any event or rite of passage that I associate with fresh starts and new beginnings.

A blank page is a time for opportunity. It lets you access your endless potential to write and create things that are newer, fresher, wittier, and more beautiful than the last.

That’s why it’s so difficult to start writing in new notebooks. The first page is always the hardest because you have to prove yourself from the get-go. After that, it gets easy.

I’ve always preferred to record my thoughts in analog rather than digital, so it makes sense that when I want to keep a record of where I’ve been and where I’m going, I’m going to do it on paper. To-do lists, ideas, stories, recommendations, personal memos…I write it all down.

In some cases, using a notebook as a catch-all system for the thoughts that go through my head or the progress I’m making on a particular problem functions just as much as a journal as the narratives I write into my much prettier, less battered notebook. I can thumb through old composition books and remember the summer that I kept a record of every movie I watched or refresh my memory on a few fun vocabulary words I learned.

Most of all, I can see how far my development has come. I can survey the swells and depressions of my productivity and all the things I’ve learned and done.

I’ve learned a lot along the way, and that’s why I wrote this ebook. I want to share the ideas and techniques that I’ve used successfully to help you also achieve your goals and dreams.

– from JYG

Fanfic - My New Years Resolution - 1/1

Title: My New Years Resolution

Summary:Sebastian hasn’t seen Blaine in years when he receives a drunk text from him on New Years Eve.

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1962

A/N: Written for the Seblaine Holiday Extravaganza 2014. The prompt was “Blaine is walking around singing Christmas songs when someone snaps at him to shut up, and Sebastian snaps back.”

It was suppose to be a quiet New Years eve.

Sebastian had an early flight the next day to visit his mother’s side of the family in Paris and opted not to party with the rest of New York. Since graduating high school Sebastian had been trying to curve his previous endless appetite for alcohol and hooking up with faceless boys in back rooms. He figured at twenty-two he should be trying to be the mature adult he was expected to be. His friends and family were pleased with the change but none of them knew the reason why. He’d never admit that a pair of hazel eyes filled with hurt that compelled him to promise to turn over a new leaf was what kept him on the straight and narrow.

Funny how a boy Sebastian hadn’t seen in years could still have that effect on him.

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Honeymoon Holidays - Chapter 6: Fan

Klaine, 2260 words, A03
Read from the beginning here

Kurt and Blaine’s first winter holidays together as a married couple fall so quickly after their wedding that sometimes they almost seem like a continuation of their honeymoon.  But not always.

A story in the “Season 7” series that looks at events in the early married life of Kurt and Blaine, written in connection with the Klaine Advent challenge.  The name of each chapter is the prompt.

*****
December, 2014

“Do you have any idea why Sue summoned us?” Blaine asked as he and Kurt met up in front of the principal’s office at McKinley.

“Nope.  But it can’t be good.”  Despite all that Sue Sylvester had done for the two of them, Kurt still couldn’t help but worry that a call to her office didn’t bode well.

“Kurt, Blaine, thank you for coming to see me,” Sue said, indicating that they should sit down in the chairs in front of her desk, although she remained standing.  

“She used our real names,”  Blaine said in a whisper as he took a seat.  “I think we’re in trouble.”

“You’re not in trouble, Husband #2,” Sue said, “and my hearing is not as bad as you kids apparently think.  But there is something we need to talk about.”

“Fine, Sue.  Spit it out.”  Kurt wasn’t in the mood for Sue’s games this morning.  Or any morning, for that matter.

“I’ve had a complaint from the parents of Kristin Martin.”

“Kristin?”  Blaine turned to Kurt.  “Isn’t she one of the kids in your Broadway club?”

“She is,” Kurt confirmed.  Kurt had started an afterschool club for budding Broadway aficionados, which had attracted a group of freshman girls for whom Les Miserables  was still the epitome of their Broadway experience.  Kurt was working on expanding their horizons.  They seemed to be catching on to Sondheim, at least when he sang it to them.  

“What was the complaint about?”  Blaine asked.

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March 11 2015 - Turkish police have intervened in several towns to break up demonstrations, on the first anniversary of the death of a teenager who was killed by police during anti-government protests the previous year. In Istanbul, water cannon was used to disperse hundreds of people protesting against police violence.

They came to remember Berkin Elvan, just 14 when he was shot in the head with a tear gas canister by security forces. His parents said he had gone out to buy bread. After a long coma, the teenager died on March 11, 2014, prompting more large scale protests across Turkey. Turkish police regularly aim tear gas grenades directly at protesters, a practice which has lead to multiple deaths and many severe injuries.  No police officer has been prosecuted for his death. As the boy fought for his life, then-Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan called him a “terrorist”, saying police could not be blamed as the teenager was wearing a scarf and security forces had no way of knowing his age. [video]

Rain & Recollection

Eruri Week Day One: Past/Memories

—————–

“Levi, do you know what today is?”

“Tuesday?”

Erwin chuckled at Levi, dipping his head down to plant a single kiss on his throat. It was evening and they were lying in bed, most of the day’s training and work halted by an unexpected rain storm. Erwin, the newly appointed commander, still had plenty of work he could be doing but he’d decided to take a break too, “borrowing” Levi from the muddy mess he’d been mopping up on the floors for a “strategy meeting.”

Their meeting actually consisted of eating dinner together in Erwin’s office, and then having a cup of tea before they ended up curled against each other underneath a pile of blankets in the middle of Erwin’s bed. It was warm and cozy with Levi on his back and Erwin on his side with his arm thrown over him, and Levi certainly hadn’t minded being pulled away from his mopping.

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Winning (and Whisker Check)

These are a couple of drabbles people have requested! The first: Dan realising for the first time that he’s grown taller than Phil. The second: a platonic interpretation of the end of PINOF. Hope they’re ok! x

Wordcount: 992

-

“There’s nothing in.”

“Hmm?” Phil takes off his headphones, craning his neck to look up at Dan. The latter is leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded.

“Nothing to eat.” Dan’s eyes are wide. “Only a jar of black olives, and I’m not fucking eating those.”

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latimes.com
LAPD found no bias in all 1,356 complaints filed against officers
The Los Angeles Police Department did not uphold any of the 1,356 allegations of biased policing by officers that the agency investigated in recent years, according to a report by the Police Commission's watchdog.
By Los Angeles Times

The numbers, which covered 2012 to 2014, prompted the president of the Police Commission to call Tuesday for a “deep-dive briefing” from the LAPD on how the investigations are conducted.

“We need to take a look at it,” said the panel’s president, Matt Johnson.

In an interview, Johnson said claims of biased policing — police parlance for racial profiling — were among the most serious accusations that could be levied against the LAPD.

“I don’t think anybody believes that there are actually no incidents of biased policing,” Johnson said. “The problem is we don’t have an effective way of really adjudicating the issue.”