okay but the fake ah crew getting fan mail. much like ahwu fanmail they get stuff like candy and letters, but they also get the katanas.

fake ah fans sending in custom painted guns, inscribed bullets and knives. they sometimes get fan made shirts that have their arrest quotes on them. fanart of their head shots. fan meetups in dark alley ways. kind of like copycat killers, but instead its just cosplayers committing minor felonies. fakeah cosplayer at los santos comic con getting banned from the con floor.

the fake ah guys getting stopped in the middle of robberies or setups by fans asking for photos and signatures. news reporters asking them during arrests about the allegations of the crew members dating each other. fans showing up the jail’s they get taken to and taking selfies with them while the police take them in for questioning.

the fake ah crew basing their heists of different au’s. the coffee shop heist where they dressed up as barista’s and took down six different starbucks at once. minecraft heist where they kidnap notch and live inside his mansion for a month.

fake ah crew fangirls.


For anon…reader loves Poe as requested. Enjoy!

Y/N perked up when she heard the familiar alert. She grinned from ear to ear before sprinting over to the air strip. She waited to the side of the usual spot and turned her eyes to the sky. She beamed as she watched the familiar black X-Wing getting ready to land. As the wind kicked up, she turned her head away to avoid anything being kicked up.

When the engine died, Y/N smirked slyly at the machine. Moments later, Poe, her best friend, started climbing down. The second his feet touched the permacrete, Y/N wrapped him in an excited embrace. Poe chuckled.

“Hey conejita,” he greeted before pecking her on the forehead, “Miss me much?”
She chuckled. “What gave it away?”
“Oh, ya know, the apparent death hug I’m in right now.”

Smirking, she pulled back and smiled. Y/N perked up, almost a hopeful look in her eye.

“Do you have some time for food before you report?”
Poe smirked that signature smile. “Yeah, I think I have a few minutes.”

Y/N watched from the door of the base. She saw Poe talking with the newcomer. It had been a few days since she had returned. Apparently, she had fought Kylo Ren. Y/N had no doubt that she was a badass, but she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as Poe had started hanging out with her.

Besides, she knew Poe better than anyone on the base. However, she wasn’t sure why he had been with Rey these past few weeks. Y/N took a deep breath; he was being nice…and she was going to look for Luke soon. Poe would return to his normal routine.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Y/N commented as she walked the base with Poe.
He nodded. “It has been awhile.”
She beamed at him. “So, what have you been up to?”
The pilot thought a moment. “Visiting Finn. Hanging out with Rey. Checking on my Squadron, the usual stuff.”

Y/N’s heart sank a little bit. Despite knowing how it might affect her, she asked the question anyway.

“What’s Rey like?”
Poe smirked, a gleam in his eye. “She’s great. A bit uncomfortable surrounded by everyone, but she’s getting used to it. Rey’s pretty funny too. I can see why Finn was so concerned about her…I think you two would make great friends.”
“That so?” she forced to ask with an even tone.
“Yeah. She knows the Force, like you. Though, she’s still pretty new at it.”

Y/N bit her lip, refusing to show how hurt she was. Was she losing her best friend? Was she losing her chance to be with him?

She took a deep breath. She was going to tell Poe. She had to. If Y/N didn’t tell Poe how she felt now, she may lose him forever to Rey. She snarled in her mind. Who was Rey? Just some random girl in the right place at the right time. How was Poe so…interested in her.

Y/N shook her head. Poe was hers, no one else’s. And she was going to tell him.

Moving on their own, her feet lead her from her room and toward the main area of the base. That’s where Poe usually was by this hour. The closer she got, the more confident she grew. Some of the other pilots and mechanics greeted her as she made her way inside. She stopped by Snap.

“Hey,” she greeted, “Do you know where Poe is?”
He nodded. “Yeah, out by the stairs.”

Y/N picked up her pace, beaming. She turned the corner, catching the color orange.

“Hey Poe, I-”

She cut herself off when she saw Poe pulling from a kiss with Rey. Y/N swallowed, chest burning and tightening. The pilot looked at her, a languid smile still on his face. Rey, on the other hand, was blushing a bit. The best friends connected gazes. Poe furrowed his brows, recognizing something was off with Y/N.

“Hey, are you okay?” he genuinely queried.
She shook her head. “Yeah, I, uh…I have-have to go.”

In agony, she stepped away from the pair and sprinted from the room. Poe took a step forward as if to go after her. He turned the corner to see Y/N clumsily running into the General before heading toward her designated dorm. The pilot knit his brows in genuine confusion. Rey stepped forward.

“What was that about?” she asked while just as confused.
“I…I don’t know. I’ve never seen her like that.”

Y/N’s chest heaved as tears dripped off her face. Hardly breathing, she tightened her fists. She stopped her pacing in the middle of the room. Crouching, she held her head in her hands, gritting her teeth. In that moment of anguish, she allowed herself to act on the anger. With a clenching of her fist, every loose object in the room was thrown against the walls all at once. She glanced up, her eyes momentarily flashing yellow before returning to its natural color.

“Kylo Ren!” Y/N shouted.

The knight turned to face the entrance of the Finalizer. Arching a brow under his helmut, the former Jedi started to walk forward. The closer he got, however, the more he realized something. A smirk formed on his lips.

“Y/N,” he hissed from his mask, “the Resistance Navigator.”
She scowled. “You think you know me.”
“But I do,” he continued, taking looming steps toward her, “I know the Force is within you and you’re filled with rage.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. She stood, unmoving, even when Kylo Ren reached her position. He looked down at her, cocking his head, smirk remaining. She knew she was angry, and she guessed he could see it in her eyes. A low, rumbling chuckle rolled from his chest.

“I will train you.”
“How and why do yo-”
“I know what you need.”

Poe knocked on the familiar dorm door. It had been weeks since he had seen his best friend. It had only been a few days for him to figure out she was gone. The pilot closed his eyes and placed his forehead on the cool steel.

Why had she left? Why didn’t she at least say goodbye? Did he push her away? He hadn’t meant to.

Poe sighed, turning around so his back was against the door. He let himself slide down until he was sitting.

“There you are,” a familiar voice called; it was Rey.
He forced a smile. “Hey.”

Rey frowned as she made her way toward him. This wasn’t the first time she had seen him by Y/N’s door. Every time, he’d knock and ask himself millions of questions. But, he never had answers. Rey sat next to him and intertwined their fingers. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“We’ll find her,” she encouraged, “I know we will.”

Poe placed a kiss on her forehead in thanks. The two remained in front of Y/N’s door up until they had to move. Like always.

Perma-tags: @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @jumperswellies @ttelesilla @caitsymichelle13 @myplaceofthingsilove @holywinchesterness @frostbyte-horan

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Discworld: Mother of Dragons

500 Followers! Thank you all so much, it’s been a wild ride since I started posting fanfic earlier in the year and my activity feed went totally nuts. My first ever fic on here was a Discworld one, so it seems only fitting I celebrate with you now by returning there. Thank you for the support, your comments and being wonderful people. Have some Sam Vimes being Vimes <3

                                Mother of Dragons (Ao3)

Commander Sir Samuel Vimes was on his day off. Which was to say he was currently doing work from home, and waiting on the inevitable call from the Yard which always seemed to come when life handed him nothing more complicated to handle than another coffee with the morning post.

It was a glorious spring day in Ankh-Morpork, the kind of day where the sun is deceptively bright, the skylarks are singing, and the dragons were in heat. Technically dragons were always in heat, it was— as it were—fundamental to their physiological structure. But there was only ever that special time once of year, where a lady dragon and a boy dragon (though one should never judge) might size the other up and decide to risk the maneuvers that went in to the act of what could quite literally be, explosive mating.

Vimes had heard the expression “survival of the fittest”, but as he sat reading at the breakfast table, listening to the mating call of what could only be described as a dented water boiler heating up—punctuated by the occasional hiccupping implosion— he thought it ought to be “survival of the luckiest and/or the stupidly brave.”

It didn’t quite roll off the tongue as well, but it was more accurate at least.

This being dragons of course, it wasn’t as simple as trying to keep the pen doors closed and reminding yourself not to light a match before the air had cleared. No, this was dragons, and that meant that Mother Nature had done everything in her power to make life as complicated for the poor buggers as possible.

The eggs were ready to hatch. Eggs which had been so carefully nested and kept warm for the last eleven months, and so possessively protected you didn’t dare reach into the pens with anything shorter than a ten foot pole with a lump of coal on the end…and now in the frenzy to create more eggs, they were being trampled.

“It’s their instincts you see,” Sybil had told him, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief covered in soot. “They only have enough room in their heads for one at a time, and the need to create more eggs outweighs the other. It’s all about continuing the bloodline.”

Vimes hadn’t said anything, not because he couldn’t think of what to say but because he could think of exactly what to say and it was not something Sybil would ever want to hear. So instead he’d patted her arm and taken the broken mess from her cradled arm and…well, what did you do with a thing like that? Which was how he’d come to learn the secret from Willikins of just how the rose bushes were quite so hardy and flowered longer than any other rose Vimes had ever known.

Poor little buggers, he’d thought, and promptly pricked his finger on a thorn.

Still all hope was not yet lost, so far this morning, very early this morning in fact (there is nothing quite like an amorous dragon outside your bedroom window to wake you up at four in the morning) Sybil had counted no less than five new wyrmlings, all as happy and healthy as a swamp dragon can ever hope to be. Which isn’t saying much, but it was something. He’d peered in around the door, sometime around dawn and found her stooped over the nearest pen, one of the many interchangeable Emmas waiting patiently with what Vimes could only think of as ‘the iron cradle’. Both women, fully armored and armed with what passed for swamp dragon corralling gear, had waved at him with their giant oven mitts.

“Should have another five by lunch!” Sybil had called out cheerfully, and Vimes had smiled, nodded and made a hasty retreat before anyone could try and hand him anything hotter than a cup of coffee.

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Upon his return from Kentucky, Harry had developed (and rightly so) a more intimate knowledge of the mortality of himself and his fellow agents. If one payed close enough attention, they would notice the changes in his demeanour. Small things, sincere congratulations on a mission well-completed, words of encouragement to new Knights, going out of his way to thank the myriad of staff that helped Kingsman run like the well-liked machine it was. In short, simply an increase in things he had done regularly before his death and miraculous resurrection.

One Gary Unwin - newly knighted Excalibur after the retirement of Harry’s previous codename until a much later date, the irony not lost on anyone who knew either Eggsy or Harry well - seemed to be an exception rather than the rule that Harry was abiding by.

It started slow, as all such things did. Merlin noticed first, as whenever he dropped off reports for Arthur’s signature Eggsy was there, sprawled in a guest seat with his legs slung over the opposite chair, thoroughly engrossed in his own work (once or twice a fortnight had become thrice weekly and eventually a daily occurrence when possible). Next it was Harry always having some of Eggsy’s favourite pastries on hand for tea. Roxanne let slip that the man had even dropped by to visit Michelle and Daisy with Eggsy and herself (his excuse was to finally make amends with the lad’s mother, who had accepted him as a part of her son’s life with few questions, though she had given him a thorough tongue-lashing for the grief he caused her son after V-Day - the flower crown he sported with Daisy on his lap in Eggsy’s cellphone home screen said otherwise).

But by far the most noticeable was the worry that creased his face whenever Eggsy was sent out on a mission, even those with relatively low risk of personal injury. “Be careful, won’t you?” He would say softly, both men standing far closer than would be strictly necessary otherwise. It was always met with some variation of “Course I will, I have people to come back to, yeah?” just as soft, and to anyone eavesdropping it would seem less like two agents of a secret espionage agency and more along the lines of a couple saying their goodbyes at the airport before a business trip.

Harry’s worry seemed to be well-founded, however, when what should have been a routine software transfer in Tokyo landed Eggsy in the medical ward with a dislocated shoulder (easily rectified, if painful) and more than his fair share of second degree burns (increasingly painful, not as easy to fix).

Because Harry’s life was not particularly caring when it came to his personal emotions, by some sick twist of fate the medical staff had decided that if he was going to take up space in their department, he may as well make himself useful, and thus how he got stuck with a jar of burn cream and was struggling to maintain polite conversation while confronted with more of Eggsy’s bare skin than he had been since witnessing the man punch through plexiglas during his trials.

“You really need to be more careful in the field, darling.” Eggsy tried not to stiffen at the endearment, and gripped the edge of the bed tighter.

“Yeah, well, promising to be careful ain’t gonna change the nature of the job. You can’t protect me from this, Harry.” He sighed heavily and set the jar aside and wiped off his hands, resting his forehead gently against Eggsy’s spine.

“I know. No matter how much I wish that I could secret you away and keep you safe, I know that I could never take you away from this. You chose this life. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” His hands rested gently on Eggsy’s hips, careful not to dip too low. “But you need to understand that there are people who will be extremely hurt if you don’t keep yourself safe in the field. Your mother, and young miss Daisy, and Roxanne, and -” he cut himself off, swallowing thickly. “And me.” His voice was barely audible, even in the quiet of the empty ward.

“Harry, what are you saying?” Eggsy’s eyes were closed, trying to process what was happening, as he shifted carefully so he was facing the other man. “Is this why you always ask me to be careful before I leave on a mission? Because you’re afraid it would be the last time?”

“I’ll admit that after Kentucky I’ve been prone to allowing myself to become attached. Tethering emotions seem less… bothersome, I suppose, in the fleeting thing we call life.” Eggsy took Harry’s face in his hands gently and peered up at him.

“Tethering emotions? What does that even mean?” Eggsy’s brow scrunched in confusion, trying to make heads or tails of what was coming out of the man’s mouth. Harry looked at him as though he was trying to memorize his face, a resigned look in his eyes. He closed them and turned his head away.

Love.” He said quietly. “I understand that it isn’t what you wanted, but you’ll have to forgive an old fool his romanticisms. I was content with giving you whatever you wished, so long as you would continue to allow me to keep you company. I never wanted to burden you with this knowledge, you see. I apologize. I sincerely hope you won’t let it change things between us.”

“Burden me - Harry, no. You’re not burdening me by telling me this.” A warm smile spread across his face. “Of course it’s going to change things. All this time we could have been doing it differently, we could have been happy, Harry, we could have been happy.”

A stunned look shaped Harry’s features, as though he couldn’t quite believe what the other man was telling him. Eggsy leaned forward, crowding into his space, and his body’s natural reaction caused him to lean back far enough that they were both sent tumbling onto the mattress beneath them. Chuckling from his position tucked under Harry’s jaw, Eggsy pressed a kiss to the soft skin near his collarbone before lifting himself up on his elbow so he could look down at Harry’s face.

“I’ve already lost you once, I’m not going to let it happen again.” Eggsy murmured, kissing him softly. “You’re not going to have to go through what I did.”

“Promise?” The moment wasn’t right to make a crack about how Harry was reminding him of his little sister - it was too serious, and Harry’s fears were very real. He took one of Harry’s hands and held it over his heart as he kissed him again, deeper this time.

“As long as this keeps beating.”

Welcome to the show! (Closed)

Wilford gazed at himself in the mirror intently to check for any flaws or imperfections. He pulled out a comically small brush and began brushing his pink mustache. A reporter has to look his best after all! The five minute call rang through the intercom and he immediately jogged over to his chair.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen and other configurations of being! My name is Wilford Warfstache and today we have Sydney with us! Sydney, how are you?” The reporter gave his signature introduction, giving a goofy grin in response to Sydney sitting down.


Ghosts -Huxloween Day 7


Kylux Angst. Major Character Death. Obvious Plot Twist is Obvious.

Hux is furious with him.

It’s not… entirely unjustified. If Kylo had put the good of the Order above his own interests, like Hux was always nagging him to do, then the Order wouldn’t be crippled now, its manpower decimated, and most importantly, Hux’s life’s work wouldn’t have been reduced to a cloud of ash and rock.

It is that last part, he thinks, that has him in such hot water.

It should have been their moment of triumph, the payoff of ten years hard work. For years they had been saying that as soon as Starkiller was completed they would go on leave together, find some planet with soft beds and rocky beaches where they could be alone, just the two of them. Instead, Hux is pulling double shifts just trying clean up the mess of what was formerly his life’s work, stumbling to bed exhausted and falling asleep on top of the covers with his boots still on.

All because Kylo let himself get sidetracked. He let the light distract him from his true purpose, and the man he loved was paying the price for it. Worse, he hadn’t even caught the girl. The only thing Hux hated worse than unnecessary mistakes were unnecessary failures.

In short, Kylo fucked up. He knows he fucked up. A big- huge, massive -‘I told you so’ is in order. He’s prepared for it, willing to face his punishment, to beg for forgiveness if necessary.

It’s the waiting around for it that’s killing him.

They’ve been together long enough for Kylo to know that when Hux is really, truly angry, he needed time to himself. So Kylo isn’t really surprised by the cold shoulder that greats him as soon as he’s discharged from medical. He takes his hint from the icy silence and bedroom doors closed in his face, curling himself small and apologetic on their couch and letting Hux retreat into the bedroom with his anger.

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Must-Have Footwear: Leopard Print Ankle Boots

Make a statement in animal print booties

Most girls have a love-hate for leopard print. Either you see it as chic (on the right piece, of course!) or you instantly relate it to trashy. If you’re looking for a way to start incorporating animal print into your wardrobe, one of the best (and classy) ways to do so, is with a leopard print ankle boots. Spruce up your black and brown boot collection with something a bit more fun. From haircalf and pony hair to buckles and slip-ons, shop 12 of our favorite leopard ankle boots below!

Man Repeller blogger Leandra Medina wearing leopard boots.


Barlow Haircalf Booties

Report Signature Toby Leopard Mid Heeled Ankle Boots

Kelsi Dagger Siberia Leopard Print Leather Boots

Sport Leopard Booties

Leopard pony hair boots

Stormy Rain Booties


Buckled Leopard Ankle Boots

SAINT LAURENT leopard boots

Classic Newbury Calf Hair Bootie, Leopard

Shadow leopard-print calf hair ankle boots

Tounoir leopard-print calf hair ankle boots

Pony Hair Boots in Leopard



One of my favorite things to do is online fantasy shop. It’s research for work, actually, which is tremendously comical as sitting on my ass looking at clothing and jewelry and accessories online is basically my dream job. Anyway, I usually give my imagination a $500 limit at most “non-designer” stores, so let’s see what you can throw in your cart at Lulu’s that totals about a fiver.

1. Report Signature Bruner Coral Color Blocked Sandals, $189

I love Report Signature with the kind of passion I usually reserve for ice cream. I also love color blocking and chunky platforms, so this sandal is sort of “the” shoe for me. 

2. Pleated Dress in Blue, $51

I would never probably wear this anywhere, but since we’re fantasy shopping who cares. The floatiness, the pleating, the double leveling, the midi length…I love all of it. 

3. Dittos Amy High Waisted Jeans, $89

High. Waisted. The end.

4. Wicklow Park Dress, $66

Front plunge? I’m all over it.

5. Dollhouse Fasi Wedges, $38

Cheap? Yes. Adorable? Double yes. Grey and pink is a great combination, and I’m definitely a wedge girl. 

6. Malt Shop Memories Sheer Top, $37

I wish I could stick to my “all black” dreams, but I just can’t. I’m a sucker for candy pink and sheers.

7. Innsbruck Encounter Handbag, $45

All right, we’re JUST over the $500 mark but this handbag is YELLOW. And has weird, useless handles on the side! Who could pass that up?

Total: $515

Next up: Forever 21 <3

Fic: You or Someone Like You, Pt. 6

Strange, how the absence of one piece of machinery could leave such a gaping hole in the middle of his workshop.

Tony crouched next to the spot where Dummy’s charging station had been, his arms braced on his knees, a coffee cup clutched in one hand. He reached out with his free hand, his fingers sweeping over the cracks in the concrete floor. “It almost looks like impact damage,” he said, his voice quiet. His fingers curled against his palm, forming a loose fist. He rested his knuckles against the cracks, studying the way that they spread.

“Structural integrity was not compromised,” Jarvis said. “But yes. Judging by material stress, it would seem that there were gravitational anomolies involved.”

“Random and localized,” Tony said. He looked up, studying the wires that were still attached to their anchors, sliced as if by a knife. “Very localized.” He straighened up, ignoring the way that his head swam for a moment, exhaustion tugging hard at his senses. His eyes closed, his head falling back as he waited for the dizziness to pass.

“Dummy’s memory files were recently backed up,” Jarvis said. “We will be able to rebuild him.”

“Yeah.” Tony patted the wall, his hand rough against the spot where his bot should’ve been. “He won’t be… It’s not the same.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Jarvis said, “after an event of this nature, who among us is precisely the same?”

There was a gouge in the wall, and Tony ran his thumb along the length of it. “Call me crazy, Jarvis, but I’ve had enough trauma in my life to know I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. Even if it is inevitable.” Shaking his head, he took a sip of his coffee. “How’re Butterfingers and You holding up without him?”

There was a moment of silence, and Tony turned, his eyes sliding over the workshop, looking for his two bots. Butterfingers was next to the fabrication units, feeding them the materials they needed, and You was rolling across the floor, pushing a broom in front of him. Tony’s lips twitched. “Jarvis? The kids okay?”

“They are… Stable,” Jarvis said. “More stable than I would have thought. They are used to Dummy’s presence. He is the oldest, and in some ways, the strongest personality of the three of them. They are accustomed to following his lead, and without him, they are more dependent upon each other.” Another pause. “When you have a moment, I believe that they would appreciate a bit of personal attention.”

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