small solitary

miscellaneous ygo cat au trivia:

  • s0 yami yugi pretends to be yugi’s shadow most of the time [to which yugi is oblivious] s0 yami has also visited in atem’s shadow as well.
  • mai, isis, anzu and rebecca prefer to stick to their own small clowder, though anzu and rebecca occasionally get into small spats with one another
  • mai visits joey on a regular basis
  • kaiba is only vocal if mokuba is “missing”
  • the fur under thief king bakura’s robe is full of knots
  • ryou hoards the bones of small animals
  • mako is largely solitary, but he has been seen trying to teach rex and weevil how to nab fish out of an outdoor pond [which flopped horrendously]
  • weevil is easily startled and will overreact and hiss at even the most harmless, mundane of objects
  • duke and tristan don’t always get along, but they are often spotted together
  • no one knows what rishid sounds like
  • out of all the currently released cats, joey, tristan, kisara, rex, and thief king bakura are the only street cats
  • thief king bakura wasn’t always a street cat

thecybersmith  asked:

(Assuming that The Elder One hadn't interrupted things) Do you believe that the Conclave could have achieved a long-term compromise, or would it have been the Thedosian Versailles Treaty, a stop-gap prelude to another inevitable conflict? I liked the story of DAi, so I understand why we couldn't see the end of the peace negotiations, but I do wish it had been explored more.

I appreciate what you’re trying to say about the Treaty of Versailles as a representative of things that really did not help in the long term. I do. But I think it’s always important to remember that this wasn’t that kind of war.


World War I was, for all its horrors, a war fought between nations. Nations that had land and resources and money. They didn’t have all of these things in equal measure, obviously, but they had them. When you’re talking about the problems of the Treaty of Versailles, you’re talking about the problems of the details of that agreement. A conference to discuss who was going to take disputed territory and who was going to pay for all the damage is not an inherently absurd idea. That’s how you end a war of nations, if you don’t intend to end it by invading and conquering your opponents.


This was not a war of nations. The mage-Templar war is more rightly named the mage rebellion. The mages are people who have been kidnapped, largely as children, and held against their will. That’s at bare minimum – any number of other abuses may be heaped on top of that.


They seem to be stateless persons: in dialogue Vivienne says:


“I am from the Circle, my dear. One’s country of origin rarely matters there.”

Vivienne dialogue


She herself was sent from the Ostwick Circle in the Free Marches to the Montsimmard Circle in Orlais; Karl Thekla, likewise, was transferred from the Fereldan Circle to the Kirkwall Circle. Once taken to a Circle they no longer belong to their homeland and can no longer rely on their government – or any government – to protect them.


In Dragon Age 2 an Alistair who was made king is apparently trying to protect the mages:


Hawke: You were having an argument about mages?

Alistair: Yes, well, apparently I don’t feel the same way about mages as the Chantry does. So we’re in disagreement. That means they get nasty. They’re like that.

Hawke: Sounds like the Circle is better off in Ferelden.

Alistair: You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Sadly, I don’t control the Circle. I can only deal with mages outside the Circle … of which there aren’t many.

Hawke: Aren’t they in your kingdom? Why not just kick the Templars out?

Alistair: Ha! Easier said than done!

Alistair Dialogue


He apparently has no legal authority to intervene on behalf of the mages in the Fereldan Circle, even though most of them were likely born Fereldan citizens. The only way to really help them would be to attack and evict the Templar Order from Ferelden. While it’s implied that idea isn’t entirely off the table, it’s clear that Alistair is just barely keeping Orlais at bay and can’t afford to kick the military arm of the empire’s official religion out of the country right now.


These people are Chantry wards. They own nothing. At most, those from wealthy families, and those who have acquired wealthy patrons, will have a bit of portable wealth: fine clothes, jewellery, books, wine, art – that sort of thing. Assuming some of them had time to pack when fleeing the Circles, that’s the most wealth we could expect them to have to negotiate with.


Except … they’re not negotiating about land or a mine or a strategically placed river, are they?


So when you ask whether I think the Conclave could have produced a ‘long-term compromise’ I think it’s worth remembering exactly what they’re negotiating here. The Templars have held absolute power over the mages for centuries. The mages have fled from that, seeking the same freedoms that any other Thedosian might expect (maybe not all that many freedoms, depending on which nation we’re talking about, but still better than what they had). We are now negotiating how much power the Templars should be allowed to have over any poor bastard who happens to be born with magic.


The Templars are a religious order, enforcing their particular doctrine – their particular view of magic. They aren’t guardsmen or police officers, protecting people from criminals – on those occasions that they do accomplish that, it is incidental to their true purpose. They have murdered people simply for practising their own faith, because that faith included magic that is not accepted under Chantry law.


Chantry law says it’s okay for:

  • children to be abducted from their homes, and potentially dragged off to a completely different country never to see their parents again
  • people with magical ability to be incarcerated indefinitely, without trial, with any ‘release’ (be it short or long term) to be contingent on receiving official permission to be absent from the Circle
  • people to be permanently surveilled, with phylacteries allowing Templars to track and kill them if they try to leave without permission
  • people, usually young people, to be forced to fight a demon to the death
  • people to be mutilated and given what is functionally brain damage to make them compliant and destroy their magic should they refuse that fight
  • people to be summarily executed for ‘blood magic’ or spirit/demonic possession without either trial or any attempt to assist the person in question
  • entire communities to be wiped out on the authority of a religious official (usually a grand cleric) without trial on the entirely vague grounds that they ‘rule it irredeemable’.


All of that is completely legal and normal before we even get into things like people being kept in small cells or solitary confinement, being starved to death, flogged, raped, or made Tranquil once Harrowed.


Which of these things would you say that the mages should have to agree to, to end the war? I would say none of them. There can be no long-term compromise between mages and Templars, because the only reasonable amount of power a Templar should have over a mage is none. A religious institution should never, ever be allowed to have any legal power over a person’s life. The Templar Order is not, under any circumstances, the right group to be handling magical crime.


We, the mages of Ferelden and Orlais, do hereby dissolve the Circles and renounce our sworn submission to the Order of the Templars, effective immediately.

We reiterate Andraste’s assertion that magic was made to serve man, not rule over him, and state unequivocally that we will use our abilities only to defend ourselves from those who would see us relinquish our lives and freedoms under the presumption of guilt for crimes we have not committed.

We condemn those practitioners of magic who, through illness of mind or understandable but misguided anger at those who oppressed them, would use their Maker-given powers to threaten innocent lives, and we pledge to aid any legitimate and impartial government in bringing these lawless apostates to justice.

We look earnestly to a future of cooperation between all peoples of Thedas, free from persecution and prejudice, and hope to build a better world alongside all who approach us with friendship instead of fear.

Rebel Mages


That’s part of the mission statement of the rebel mages. I would say that, right there, they have already agreed to every reasonable condition. They have agreed that offensive magic should only be used in self-defence, and committed to cooperating with secular law-enforcement in dealing with magical crime. Are there details still to be hammered out? Sure. But with the governments if the lands in which they take up residence, not the Templar Order.


The Conclave is an absurd and inherently evil thing. It’s happening for two reasons, one in-universe and one out:

  • In universe, because the mages are not an army – they are refugees with children and elderly people in tow, and many of them will have no idea how to fight or plan a battle. The Templars are an army, and thus can terrorise these people into a position where they may agree to any damn thing to make it stop.
  • Out of universe because Bioware overreached themselves in Inquisition and needed to simplify the scenario in a hurry. They therefore pretended that the mages had no option but to negotiate with their oppressors. I genuinely do not think the Conclave should have happened, but I understand why Bioware really needed to ‘end’ the conflict by blowing most of these people up.


So … I think it’s possible the Conclave might have created a ‘compromise’ that lasted decades or centuries, depending on how badly the mages’ spirits were crushed by its results. But an unjust system will always lead to anger and despair, and as long as Templars have power over mages, another conflict is inevitable. As long as the ‘compromise’ persists, the mages will continue to suffer.

3

Allium ursinum, Amaryllidaceae

If you have ever walked in the woods in temperate parts of Europe, particularly in the British Isles, you might have happened to smell something garlicky during spring, right when the buds are breaking up in the trees. Ramsons, wood or bear’s garlic - it is known in a few more ways just in English - was probably the culprit. Here in Scotland its white star-shaped flowers follow the small and often solitary ones of A. paradoxum, another common Allium which I’ll write about in a different post. 

All parts of the plant are edible and often harvested from the wild, but it is also easy to establish in a garden, especially in the shady and humid areas avoided by many other plants with higher light requirements. If you are foraging in the woods I would suggest harvesting the plant when the flower stalk has already given away its identity, together with the smell, as the young shoots emerging from the ground can be pretty similar to some toxic spring geophytes, like Convallaria majalis, the lily of the valley. I remember A. ursinum in the woods in northern Italy, but it looks a lot more at home and plentiful here in Scotland. 

Sangwoo trusts him with a knife.

He thinks about this now just as he has been thinking about it for days. When Sangwoo is not in the kitchen Yoonbum might even lift it from the chopping board as if to practise wielding it, but all it does is wobble in his unsteady hand.

It’s been…how long has it been, since Sangwoo dropped him into a swivel chair and placed the knife in his hand? He doesn’t know. All he can remember is that his palm had been soft, and his fingers gentle. They had pushed the hair out of his face and left his cheeks glowing.

They had glowed again later to be sure; glowed with the red hot force of Sangwoo’s palm - returned again with its second face.

Every error in the kitchen had its consequence. He began to experience them so routinely that he memorised them. A dropped plate brought him smarting cheeks. Overcooked meat was pulled hair. A failure to respond was a sharp pinch of his flesh, fleshy half-moons in his skin.

If he wanted - really wanted - a cut across his thigh, all he would have to do is break a cup and wait for Sangwoo to locate the sharpest shard.

To his mind, with this knowledge he almost had a type of control over Sangwoo. That was his small and solitary solace.

Madness is when time becomes everything and nothing. He uses time as a measure - of pain, of progress, of opportunity to escape. His life is defined by it, but it has no real weight. He cannot place himself.

He wonders about the knife. It was a test to be sure. Or did Sangwoo really have that much faith in him? He hadn’t seemed suspicious…and before that Yoonbum had done his duties well. Pride rushes up his spine, and he straightens with it. It was possible that…

What other privileges could he win, with time? Perhaps Sangwoo would let him sleep upstairs…perhaps more…

Perhaps – a voice pushes in – perhaps it didn’t imply trust at all. Perhaps Sangwoo knew he was eternally useless with a knife – that’s all.

He deflates, shoulders dropping.

His hand grips the handle of the knife tightly. He’d just have to learn to fight.

Behind him, Sangwoo speaks up from the table where he had been flipping through a magazine. “You know what I just remembered?” he asks in a way that makes Yoonbum – shocked out of his stupor – wholly suspicious. A chill settles over him.

“That time in the basement when you pissed yourself from fear. I had to hose you down like a dog, you were so pathetic! And all I did was nick you a little with a can.” He laughs loudly at this, and his eyes are bright.

Yoonbum stiffens, but forces a smile over his shoulder. The knife is reunited with the chopping board, and he turns around to slice at some leek with renewed vigour.

“Imagine I had used something else. Like the knife you’re holding now.” Yoonbum looks over his shoulder again to meet Sangwoo’s eyes. They’re black with accusation now, serious, his face no longer bright or laughing. His voice is poison. “You would have shit yourself.”

Yoonbum is paralysed by the idea that Sangwoo has a sense for his thoughts. He says nothing, receiving the message and accepting it. Whatever he had done, he had been too obvious.

His silence seems to agitate Sangwoo, who rises with a frown to stand behind him.

He flinches, but Sangwoo only rests his chin atop Yoonbum’s head, letting his warm hands travel over his belly affectionately. “You really have no sense of fucking humour do you, Bum? It’s boring. You can be so boring.” He sighs into his hair.

If there was ever a time to raise the knife and plunge it into Sangwoo’s forehead, it would be now. He considers this very seriously – it would be so easy, he’s right there – but half of him is fighting the burgeoning disappointment searing throughout his chest.

Sangwoo finds him boring.

“S-sorry,” he says, and he is. His heart cracks into two at the idea that he is undesirable to Sangwoo in yet another department.

Sangwoo brings up a hand to smooth along Yoonbum’s forearm and rest atop his own, where he grips at the knife. His other hand fingers the young scar on his collarbone. He suddenly presses into it hard, and Yoonbum whimpers.

“Don’t let me get bored of you, Bum. That really wouldn’t be good for you.”

Yoonbum’s lips wobble into a miserable line, and he nods.

Sangwoo leaves a lingering kiss on his forehead before letting go, leaving the kitchen for the bathroom.

Yoonbum hovers over the counter, breathing harshly. He puts down the knife.

Sangwoo is gone but he will not practice today.

4

So there’s a bunch of these small, solitary digging bees nesting between the paving bricks on my driveway and tbh I have no idea what they are, other than fucking adorable. They’re about 1cm long (I think), they make huge piles of dirt with their excavations and are super shy and disappear down their burrows at the slightest disturbance. Nests are in a relatively dense aggregation, maybe 20+ in a 3 square metre patch of my drive?

My first thought was Andrena sp. because they dig and y’know, mining bees, but I’m now thinking maybe Lasioglossum sp.? Those aren’t even in the same family and just, I dunno? I apparently know shit all about solitary bees?

I know these aren’t exactly taxonomic quality but any solitary bee experts can tell me if this looks like it’s Andrenidae or Halictidae (location: Nottingham, UK)? @khrysdiebee I know you study North American native bees, and these are in the UK, but anything about these suggest a genus or family to you?

Constellations // Kunpimook Bhuwakul (Part 1)

Pairing: Bambam x Reader

Genre: (?)

Summary: The lovers whom never thought that they would find each other, did.

Author’s Note: Hi i’m soft and this is my first post of the new year! I hope you al like it~

xoxo Sara

Prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6


It was late afternoon, the sun had just began to duck behind the horizon and the sky began turning the beautiful shades of pink, purple, orange, and blue as it usually did during this time. The cold and harsh blows of the wind began to rustle the dead fallen leaves against the concrete, creating a scratching sound in the atmosphere which was usually dead silent. Most of the streets were empty, due to the fact that it was Sunday and most stores closed early. Though, there was the mere exception of the rebellious teenagers who lurked the streets with their friends until the early hours of the morning in search of their next adventure.

You sat on the bench nearest to the park that laid inside your small city, outside the cold metal gates that prohibited you from entering the one place you felt most at peace with yourself. You hadn’t noticed how lonely you felt until, the sudden realization of your day had hit you.

Keep reading

INFORMATION FOR BEGINNERS SERIES, WHAT IS WICCA

What Is Wicca?

History Misconceptions Satan Evil Spells Divinity
Nature Other Faiths Afterlife Sin Ethics
Leadership Churches Magick What is Wicca?

History


Wicca is a neo-pagan religion based on the pre-Christian
traditions of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Its
origins can be traced even further back to Paleolithic
peoples who worshipped a Hunter God and a Fertility
Goddess. Cave paintings found in France (and dated at
30,000 years old) depict a man with the head of a stag,
and a woman with a swollen, pregnant belly. They stand in
a circle with eleven mortals. These archetypes of the
divine are worshipped by Wiccans to this very day. By
these standards, the religion that is now called Wicca, is
perhaps the oldest religion in the world.

In 1951, the laws against Witchcraft were repealed in
England. A man named Gerald Gardner was the first to
come into the public eye with a description of what
modern witches were practicing. His information came
from the traditions of a coven called the New Forest
Witches, and from Ceremonial Magick and the Cabballah.
He began what is now called the Gardnerian Tradition of
Wicca. From Gardnerian came Alexandrian Tradition,
and a host of other offshoots that today number in the
hundreds.

Misconceptions


For two thousand years the image of the Witch has been
associated with evil, heathenism, and blasphemy. These
ideas have their origin in Christian myths created to
convert members of the Old Religion to that of the new.
By making the Witch into a diabolical character of ill
intent and action, the Christian missionaries were able to
attach fear to a word that had once meant Healer, Wise
One, and Seer.

These fears are present to this day. When we think of the archetypal image of the Witch, we remember the evil enchantress of childhood tales. We think of an old, wrinkled hag with a nasty wart on her nose. We think of hexes, and devils, and foul incantations chanted around a bubbling cauldron. While we modern witches have been known to stir up herbal remedies in a cauldron, we are a far cry indeed from the horrifying Wicked Witch of the West!


Witches Do Not Worship Satan

To believe in Satan, one must subscribe to the Christian mythos. We do not. Wicca does not have any belief in, nor do we worship a concept of evil incarnate. All life is perceived as a
constant flow of positive and negative energies, which
intertwine to create the balance of life. [From my own
experience, I must say that the only evil I have ever
observed in the world has come from Man. There are no
ax-murderers, or child-abusers to be found in the animal
kingdom, or in nature as a whole.

Witches Do Not Cast Evil Spells

Modern Witches have a very strict belief in the Law of Return. Whatever we send out into our world shall return to us, so even the most ill-tempered Witch would not consider doing magick
to harm another being. The spells that we do involve
things like Healing, Love, Wisdom, Creativity, and Joy.
The “potions” that we stir might be a headache remedy,
or a cold tonic, or an herbal flea bath for the family dog.

Beliefs

Immanent Divinity

Wiccans believe that the spirit of God/dess exists in every living thing: in the trees, the rain, the flowers, the sea, and in each other. This means that we must treat our peers, and all the beings of the Earth as aspects of the Divine. We attempt to honour and respect life, in all its many and diverse expressions.

Nature

Wiccans learn from and worship nature by
celebrating the cycles of the sun, and the cycles of the
moon. We look into ourselves for the cycles within that
correspond to those of the natural world, and try to
move in harmony with the movement of life. Our teachers
come in the form of trees, rivers, lakes, meadows, and
mountains, as well as other humans who have walked the
path before us. This belief infers a reverence and
respect for the environment, and all of life upon the
Earth We revere the spirits of the elements that create
our world. Air, Fire, Water, and Earth combine to
manifest all creation. From these four elements we gain
wisdom, and understanding of how the universe unfolds.
The rhythms of nature are the rhythms of our lives.
Wiccans attempt to dance in step with the pulse of the
Earth.

Other Faiths

Modern Witches believe in freedom first!
We do not choose to look at our path as the “one true
right way,” but as one path among many to the center.
We do not convert new members to the Craft, nor do we
advertise or prosteletize. We believe that anyone who is
meant for this path will find it through their own search.
Wiccans practice tolerance and acceptance toward all
other religions, as long as those faiths do not preach or
commit harm to others.

Afterlife

Most Witches believe in reincarnation of some
sort, whether it be the Eastern version known as the
Transmigration of Souls (the spirit incarnating one body
after another in an effort to learn all the life lessons
that it can), or Ancestral Incarnation (where the spirit
and life lessons of the grandfather transmute to the
granddaughter, and so on down the genetic line). The
latter is a more traditionally Celtic approach, but both
are accepted.


Sin In Wicca

We do not have a specific concept of sin.
There is no heaven or hell that souls will go to based on
their worldly actions. Wrong-doing is governed and
determined by the individual conscience. With the belief
in the Law of Return, one’s actions will determine one’s
future. The individual is therefore responsible for his or
her own fate, based on what he or she chooses to do
internally and externally in the world.


Ethics

Wicca has but one law of action and ethics. It is
called the Wiccan Rede or the Wiccan Law, and can be
found under the Reading Room category of the same
name. “And ye harm none” covers almost everything that
the Ten Commandments do: don’t lie, don’t steal, don’t
cheat, etc. It encourages us to strive not to harm any
living thing - including ourselves - except perhaps to
survive. Whether this means that you must become a
vegetarian or a passivist is up to the individual. The
Wiccan Law serves as a guideline to action, not a
mandate. The only law that the Ten Commandments
express that is not covered by the Wiccan Law is that of
marriage and adultery. In Wicca, love itself is
sanctified, with or without government authorization. As
long as two individuals share a sincere bond of love that
does not harm either party, it does not matter if they
are legally joined, if they are heterosexual, homosexual,
bisexual, or interracial.

Leadership vs. Hierarchy

There is no Arch Bishop of Wicca. There is no one person or organization that determines the practices and beliefs of Wicca as a whole. Instead, Wicca is formed of small nebulas groups
and solitaries who are charged with the leadership of
themselves. Wicca is a religion of clergy, not followers.
Each person who seriously pursues the Craft, whether it
be through study in a particular tradition, or through
self-teaching and private learning, has the choice to
become a priest or priestess of Wicca. Most modern
traditions of Wicca offer a three year program of
learning that will bring the student to the level of High
Priest or Priestess.

Churches and Temples

Wiccans do not usually have churches created specifically for the worship of the gods. Our temple is found in nature, among the creations of the divine. We meet in a circle that represents the Circle of Life, and the equality that we share. There is no
head, no top, no beginning and no end. When necessary,
our circles take place indoors in houses, apartments, or
wherever we can find a sacred, protected space. But
ideally, a circle will take place in a grove beneath the
stars, with the silver moon shining down from above.


Magick

Witches believe in the power of magick to
create change. A prominent Wiccan author named
Starhawk defines magick as “the art of changing
consciousness at will.” By being in tune with the rhythms
of life, we can create change for ourselves and for our
world. We use herbs, oils, colours, stones, crystals, and
other symbolic materials to represent the change we wish
to create. Wiccans believe that the individual is
responsible for his or her own reality. If there is
something that is not healthy, or conducive to happiness
and growth, we have the power to change it. As aspects
of the divine, we are each Creator and Creatress, filled
with the power to manifest all that we dream of or
desire.

What is Wicca?

Wicca is a forest in the light of the silvery moon…a glade enchanted by the light of the Faery. It is the dewdrop on the petals of a flower in bloom, the warmth of the summer sun on the skin, the fall of colourful autumn leaves, and the softness of winter snow upon the Earth. It is light, and shadow and all that
lies in between. It is the song of the wind, and the tune of the tides. It is the symphony of life! To be a Witch is to be a healer, a teacher, a seeker, a giver, and a protector of all things living and alive. If this path be yours, may you tread it with honour and with light!

.Posted by, Phynxrizng

2

Fangirl challenge [10] Tv shows House of Cards

Every time I’ve spoken to you, you’ve never spoken back, although given our mutual disdain, I can’t blame you for the silent treatment. Perhaps I’m speaking to the wrong audience. Can you hear me? Are you even capable of language, or do you only understand depravity? Peter, is that you? Stop hiding in my thoughts and come out. Have the courage in death that you never had in life. Come out, look me in the eye and say what you need to say. There is no solace above or below. Only us - small, solitary, striving, battling one another. I pray to myself, for myself.

#1212 - Miltogrammine Calliphorid - Satellite Fly

Cheryl Macaulay was watching a small drama unfold in her yard, where two Sphecid wasps were having a squabble - one had tried to pilfer a paralysed caterpillar, while the other was busy checking her burrow.

What they SHOULD have been doing is paying attention to the small blowfly that was following them around the yard, keeping a very careful distance, like a satellite following its host planet.


Blowflies in the Miltogramminae subfamily are kleptoparasites of solitary bees and wasps - she’s waiting for an opportunity to drop a live maggot into the burrow dug by the wasp, where it will then dig down to the paralysed caterpillar, pollen and nectar, or whatever else the target has prepared. Many calliphorids bear live young, but this was the first time I’d come across the term ‘larviposit’. Nice.

I have seen a Satellite Fly once myself - it was lurking a few centimeters away from the burrow of a small solitary wasp - the wasp was NOT pleased when she climbed back out and spotted her there.


Australia has 6 genera of Satellite Fly, but I’m unwilling to ID further than subfamily. Worldwide, there’s a much wider variety, including species where the fly is small enough that they can share the food supply with the target species, without necessarily starving it to death. That could well be the case with some of our locals, but I don’t have references for it.

Perth, Western Australia

Claim

Niall didn’t belong here. Cold, stone walls, bars around every entrance and exit, yells and screams echoing throughout the night. Niall didn’t belong here.

He did it because he was smart. He was smart and no one was helping and he needed it. And it was too too easy. If it was that easy then how was it illegal? It didn’t make sense to Niall. Stealing money from the government virtually became second nature to Niall, he didn’t even notice that he had literally stolen millions until blue and red lights were flashing against his new houses’ bronze-rimmed window panes.

So they took him and did tests and told him he wasn’t right in the head. Maybe he was too smart for his own good and they were scared. Niall didn’t really understand, but they took him anyway. He was now in a small, solitary-based prison based in London that kept the inmates in small groups. Most of them were suffering from some kind of mental disorder but couldn’t get out on an insanity claim. Niall’s group was particularly small for the prison, just 11 of them all together. At least, that’s what his advisor had told him, he hadn’t met any of them yet.

That was today. Today he was meeting the men who were going to be his new “friends” for the next 5 to 10 years. The guards seemed to like him– or maybe it was pity– because they tried to give him a good warning before ushering him into a small room where a group of men were sitting in a circle. There was one man sanding and he immediately smiled over in Niall’s direction, crowing, “You must be Niall!”

Niall felt like the new kid in school. “Um.” Was all he replied as the man brought him into a hug. Politely, he hugged the man back, giving him a good cuddle (the last time he got hugged was by his brother, Greg, 2 weeks ago). The man pulls back after a moment, looking pleasantly surprised.

“I’m Teddy Sheeran, but you can call me Ed. I’m the counselor for your group. You guys see me twice a week as a group and once individually. I’m sure that these fine lads have given you a good description of what your schedule looks like here.

They had, telling him that he was lucky to be sent here, where inmates were given a lot of free time and lighter punishments. Niall was tempted to tell them to fuck off, because apparently he was only sent here because of a mental disorder that he was sure didn’t even exist.

He nods and the duo turn to walk towards the group of men that were staring at Niall. Niall is immediately terrified. It’s not like he of all people could possibly defend himself from these men. He was just a robber– and a virtual one at that. He doesn’t like face-to-face confrontation and he certainly would never win a fist fight. He’s put off and petrified of the hungry looks he sees in some of their eyes, eyeing him like he’s their new favorite chew toy. Sadly, Niall thinks that that is exactly what he is. Ed smiles at Niall in sympathy, gesturing for Niall to take the empty seat that is in between two brown haired boys, one tall and lanky, the other with blue, mischievous eyes that Niall did not want to get to know better.

Niall sits down, back straight and ankles crossed, he fiddles with his hands nervously as Ed introduces him. The group doesn’t seem interested in his words, looking more interested in judging the blonde boy.

“Pretty, isn’t he, Haz?” One of them, a tanned, attractive Pakistani looking man calls.

The man who must be Haz is the lanky guy sitting next to Niall, and he grins lazily, brushing a hand down the back of Niall’s chair, settling at the spot just above his tailbone. “Sure is.” He murmurs in a slow, British drawl. Niall tries not to shiver and is mesmerized for a second in green, deep eyes. He jumps when Ed snaps at the darker skinned man.

“Enough of that, Zayn. You lot will be nice to Niall– but not too nice, alright? We don’t stand for that kind of bullshit in this place.”

The feathery haired boy next to him cackles. “But, Theodore! Look at the kid, he’s going to want some friends. And friends are supposed to be really nice.” He says, and Niall understands that ‘nice’ suddenly has taken on a new meaning.

Greg had warned him about this. Said all the generic, ‘don’t bend over in the shower’ kind of shite, but Niall hadn’t actually thought that people did that here. Now that he’s here… it makes sense. He’s gone two weeks without a single wank, just cause he was afraid of someone hearing or seeing. He vaguely wondered how long some of these guys had gone without.

“No, Louis. You can be his friend, but I won’t have you harassing Niall here.” Ed states solidly.

“Don’t be stupid Ed, it would be consensual, wouldn’t it, Niall?” Another boy pipes up. This one is tall as well, sporting a muscle tee that showcases large biceps and incredible shoulders. ‘Huh’ Niall thinks because really, he’s been searching for his prince charming for a long time now, and pretty much any of these guys would’ve been perfect. Ed is about to go off on the man, when some others in the group begin to make remarks on Niall’s appearance. Niall remembers slightly hearing some names as the boys began to yell at each other, something about “Ashton and Mikey,” and a Liam was in there, too.

Niall sputters, cutting himself off when the Haz guy continues rubbing his hand across Niall’s back, pulling Niall and his chair closer towards him. “I’m Harry, by the way.” He introduces formally. “And personally, I think you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Niall blushes hard, eyes wide and surprised. “Th-thanks.” He stutters, astonished at the man’s words.

The curly haired boy grins widely, pulling at the bandana around his head, “Lou, get this, he’s Irish!”

Louis, one of the men who had talked earlier scoots over eagerly. “No shit?” He says excitedly, his arm joining Harry’s in smoothing over Niall’s shirt and soothing his skin. Niall shivers lightly, but nods, happy to finally get some human touch, even if it is under these circumstances.

By the time Ed gets the entire group settled, Louis has convinced Niall to be their “friend” (even though Niall doesn’t even really understand what that entails) and the pair have sandwiched Niall in between them tightly, glaring at one of the boys across from them as he snickered away. No one except Niall is really listening to Ed’s lecture, something about accepting others into their lives graciously and with kindness. Niall is content underneath Harry’s arm, Louis whispering jokes about Ed’s fiery hair into his ear periodically, but he can’t help but let his eyes wander. He finds himself staring at the super attractive Pakistani man across the circle from him. His amber eyes are enticing and Niall’s eyes keep flickering from him to the muscular one in the tee, watching as their eyes drag over his small figure, telling him a detailed story of what exactly they want to do to him. He can feel Harry’s arm tightening with what might be possessiveness and Louis’ growl of disapproval as Niall lets out an absent sounding moan.

The meeting ends soon, and Ed informs Niall that he’ll be rooming with Harry  and two unfamiliar guys named Liam and Mike. Louis pouts and groans in annoyance. “I wanted to fuck him first, Eddy. How is this fair? Haz and the two of our resident douche-bags get this,” He screeches, gesturing his arms around Niall. “and I’m stuck with a psychopath and a sociopath. Not fair!”

Harry is smirking while Niall is still gaping at the first part of Louis’ rant. ‘No one is going to be fucking me.’ he tries to convince himself as he takes a deep breath.

“Sorry-” Louis says, cutting off Niall’s thoughts. His voice is a lot softer than it was before, and Niall thinks he missed something by the angry look on Harry’s face. “I have this thing where I say pretty much everything I’m thinking.” He says, not looking ashamed in the slightest. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but I do. Want to fuck you, that is.” He elaborates.

Niall blushes a bright red. “Um-” He says, stopping himself from telling the blue-eyed boy that it’s alright, because ‘No one is going to be fucking me.’ He repeats like a mantra.

Suddenly, a strong hand is curling around Niall’s shoulder and he’s being gently manhandled to turn around. “So, we never got properly introduced, Niall.” The large, muscular man says as Niall meets his eyes. His eyes are warm and completely contradict the rest of his sharp, angular looks.

“That’s a good thing, Niall, he’s a right twat.” Louis murmurs from somewhere behind him.

The man ignores Louis, continuing on. “I’m Liam, and we’re rooming together.”

Niall tries to nod and look agreeable, but ever since Louis’ said what he did, he’s kind of terrified of rooming with anyone. Instead of commenting on Niall’s lack of response, Liam grinned viciously, grabbing at Niall’s lower back and pulling him in close.  He glanced over Niall’s shoulder, whispering, “I can’t wait to get to know you better,” all the while smirking at Louis and Harry.

Louis and Harry look apalled, “Why don’t you just run away back to Malik, yeah?” Harry says, pulling Niall back to his own chest. “Niall is not yours.”

Liam laughs, any emotion barred, “Yeah, you possessive bastard? Well, he’s not yours either.”

Harry lunges at Liam, only to be pushed back roughly by Louis. “Stop it, Harry!” He snarls, pushing him backwards again. “You’ve only got 4 more years, and you’re not going to fuck it up for yourself.”

Niall watches the silent rage course through Harry’s eyes. He stands up and stomps from the room, not saying another word. Louis scowls at Liam and walks off briskly after his friend. Niall’s eyes are wide as Liam steps back into his personal space. He runs a thumb over his bottom lip, grinning at the smaller boy. “So innocent. How’d you turn up here?” He wonders, seemingly to himself. Niall jumps and lets out a small, surprised noise as another body is pressed up against his other side.

“U-uh…” He tries to protest as the person snakes two arms around his tiny waist.

“Calm down, princess.” A low, gravely voice commands. Liam is smirking towards the person holding him and forces Niall’s body to turn around so that he’s facing the very attractive Pakistani man from before. “M’ Zayn.” He says and Niall doesn’t know what to feel.

“You don’t even know what’s happening here, do you?” Zayn says, a dark chuckle on his lips. “Thing is, you’re the prettiest bloke here, obviously. You’ve got a tiny little body, a nice arse, and an innocent, pouty face. Obviously people are going to be fighting over who gets to claim you.”

Niall’s lips parted in shock, “claim me?” He gasps.

“Of course.” Zayn rolls his eyes, as if Niall’s an idiot for not understand. Zayn winks cheekily, pushing away from Niall by shoving the smaller boy into Liam’s awaiting arms. Comfortably, Liam drags Niall off down a hallway where guards are directing them. Liam stands taller than all of them, giving them warning looks as if they’re the prisoners and not him. Niall shrinks in slightly, not really understanding the dynamics in this place.

Once they reached their cell, Liam pushed Niall forward, where he almost ran into another boy he hadn’t yet met. The boy practically snarled at Niall, who let out an un-manly squeak, falling backwards into arms that were slightly thinner than Liam’s. Niall was instantly pulled into Harry’s arms, an animalistic sounding growl leaving his throat. “Fuck off, Mike. It was Payne’s fault anyway.”

 Mike shrugs it off, climbing onto the top of the bunk across the room. Liam is already sitting on the bed underneath, smirking at Niall and Harry. Harry huffs, and pulls Niall closer, sitting on the closer bed. 

“You can bunk with me, Niall, it’ll be fun.” Harry promises, in a deep groveling voice. 

Liam lets out an angered scoff. 

Niall didn’t exactly understand yet, but he was already becoming a part of some weird love-pentagon. 

* * * * 

It had been a solid week since Niall arrived at the prison. It had been easier than he had expected, and he had yet to have his virginity taken by one of the four zealous and crazy boys that were so obsessed with him. It seemed to be some kind of fight, mostly between Zayn and Liam vs Harry and Louis. Though Niall had overheard Louis shouting at Harry for getting too Handsy with Niall once. 

Today was lunch per the usual. Niall was sitting in between Louis and Liam, Zayn and Harry glowering at the two from across the table. Nobody was really eating, mostly just looking at each other in an intense silence that was putting Niall on edge. Come to think of it, Niall had been on edge for quite a while. He was so tired of being pulled around by every one of these boys around him– and all for what? A silent conversation at a lunch table and basically 0 social interaction. 

“Alright, listen up.” Niall says, voice hard and stern. Each of the boys perks up at the Irish lit, but they seemed surprised at his new aura of intensity. “I’m so tired of you guys tuggin me around and then jus’ glarin’ at each other all the feckin’’ time!” Niall snarls. “Maybe you guys don’t get to choose who gets to ‘claim’ me, yeah?” He says, voice a bit softer. 

They all pipe up at that, each saying that ‘no, you don’t get to choose!’ 

Niall’s anger peaks there. “Well I get to choose who I like. Who I would willingly let claim me and fuck me and maybe, if i actually enjoyed their personality, then I would do things for them without them forcing me to. Maybe I’ll be your little bitch either way, but if it’s consensual then I can promise I’ll be a damned good one.” Niall rants, watching as the boys recognize his threat as lethal.

“So which of us is it?” Louis asks eagerly, looking unbelievably confident. 

Niall shakes his head. “Well maybe if you’re lucky enough I’ll like all of you. But only if you all stop being annoying cunts n’ start actually bein’ nice to each other.” He hums, nuzzling his head lazily into Liam’s shoulder. Liam, whilst basking in the attention he was getting, lets out a noise of agreement. 

“And if we’re really really nice, what’d you think we could get?” Harry asks leaning in, intrigued. “Like what if, just hypothetically, were to be fucking you, but Zayn wanted you to suck his dick?” He asks, eyes crinkling in excitement. “And– what if I wanted to jerk you off, slowly until your screaming on Zayn’s dick, begging for us to let you come. But before we can, Z and I might bottom out, cum right inside of our little cumslut. Then, Li and Lou want a turn and you’re our little fucking whore so you won’t say no, will you?” Harry says, eyes narrowed as he has the entire table panting at his dirty talk. 

Niall makes a whimpering noise before Harry continues. 

“If we’re really really good, you think that would be an option?” He finishes, leaning away and smirking, seeing the effect his words has on everyone. 

Niall gulps a bit, nodding quickly, “Yeah, yeah, I think– I think that could be an option.”

The boys sitting at the table all glance around at each other, secret smiles adorning their faces. Yeah, maybe they could get along– at least until that became an option.

I’m sorry i haven’t been writing much lately. I’m having a rough time right now idek what’s happening. I’ve had a pretty bad day today so I’m sorry if it sucks. But hey, I’m 16 now woooo! 

ALSO HI. I’m WORKING on a part 3 to my Heroic (Savior) series, so lets try our best to not put those particular prompts in my askbox anymore! [Not saying that I dont absolutely love all of the support the series is getting, but I don’t want my inbox getting filled with the same prompt] Thanks guys!! 

Prompts are open! I do any Niall centered relationship including OT3, OT4, and Zianourry. You can see my previous writings here. 

Oarfish, Regalecus glesne.

This unique deep-sea fish has been in the news recently. Two dead oarfish  were recently found within a week of each other, washed up on beaches in Southern California. Scientists know very little about oarfish, and only a handful have ever been seen alive.

External image

Oarfish have an elongated, reddish dorsal fin that spans the length of their body. Its gelatinous, silver-blue body is ribbon-shaped, and can measure up to 50 feet and weigh about 600 lbs. Oarfish have no visible teeth, and feed on plankton and small crustaceans.

Oarfish are solitary, and little is known about reproduction. Some researchers have witnessed spawning occur from July to December off the coast of Mexico, when eggs are released into the water and left floating. Once the baby oarfish hatch they feed on plankton.

[video via Animal Wire]

My Funny Valentine - Part 2

Summary: Dean x Reader. Dean takes the reader out on a “friend date” after her latest boyfriend blows her off for Valentine. Not knowing that the reader sees him as so much more than a friend.

Triggers: None

Word Count: 4385 (Part 2 of 2)

Y/N = Your name  

This is the second half of the main part of my little Dean love marathon for Valentines Day! Read part 1 here

You can also read Stupid Cupid, where Dean tries to protect the reader from a Cupid!

You can read the date night series leading up to this here! A series of oneshots where the reader goes on dates with some of the Supernatural characters. More date nights will come as well even after Valentines Day!

“Perfect!” Dean exclaimed after a little while of driving aimlessly around town just enjoying each other’s company and the stress-free calm comfort that came with a “friend date”. Nodding towards the direction of a big colourful sign to draw your attention to it. The word “Funfair” was written in bold, colourful lettering onto a background of a minimalistically drawn circus tent. “We’ll go spin around in teacups until we get sick! Maybe I’ll even get to see some skirts flying up from the speed of the roller-coaster if I’m lucky,”

“You don’t have one romantic bone in your body Dean Winchester,” You laughed ignoring the pain of the born flirt’s ways whilst Dean turned the car in towards the parking lot of the fair. The ruined fields stretching out before you sprouting out into rides and booths up ahead.

“That’s not true! I’m a hopeless romantic… With a filthy mind is all,” Dean grinned back. Winking at you before finding a free spot as close to the fair as he could and turning the key. Effectively ending the song that had been playing over the sound system Sam had helped you convince Dean to upgrade. Rolling your eyes at him you opened the door and jumped out ahead of him. Stretching lazily in the sun, you brought your hand up to shield your eyes to get a better view of the fair. A smile steadily growing on your lips as the excitement of the fair infected you.

Keep reading

3

Every time I’ve spoken to you, you’ve never spoken back, although given our mutual disdain, I can’t blame you for the silent treatment. Perhaps I’m speaking to the wrong audience. Can you hear me? Are you even capable of language, or do you only understand depravity? Peter, is that you? Stop hiding in my thoughts and come out. Have the courage in death that you never had in life. Come out, look me in the eye and say what you need to say. There is no solace above or below. Only us - small, solitary, striving, battling one another. I pray to myself, for myself.

We’re Looking For Something Dumb To Do

Summary: The Bartender!Bellarke series you didn’t realize you needed.
Rating: T, for this chapter (language) | E rating overall

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT | PART NINE | PART TEN
Now over on AO3 under the title “Hey Bartender”!

Author’s Note: We time jumped! Aaaand we’ve got more fluff. I’ve been kind of in a funk with my writing, so I decided I needed some drabble, fluffy Bellarke to get me out of it. Hope you enjoy! Again, thank you so much for all the support this story gets! It means so much!

Night Nine Hundred and Sixty-One: Sweetheart

I’m going to be late because Miller is a dick.

She barely finishes her text before the very man she’s talking about pops up on her screen with a goofy lopsided grin and Monty leaning into his chest.  The picture is from last Fourth of July at the bar; the memory makes her smile, but he makes her want to scream right about now.

“Are you on your way?” He doesn’t even bother with a greeting and she has to roll her eyes toward the sky.  Sometimes she misses when they were nothing more than friendly acquaintances.

“Please tell me again why Lincoln or Murphy couldn’t swing by and do this?” Clarke complains, walking down the sideway toward the bar. “Better yet, why the hell are you having kegs delivered on a Sunday?  What company even does that?”

“Lincoln is out of town with Octavia for the weekend and Murphy’s not answering his phone —“

“So you called me?  Send Monty!  Or hell, here’s a novel idea: come down here yourself!”

“I owe you, Clarke.” He says a little too calmly.

“Yeah.  I want a raise.” She demands, reaching into her pocket for her keys.

Keep reading

the signs as frank underwood quotes
  • aries: ”I will not be a placeholder president, Claire. I will win and I will leave a legacy.”
  • taurus: “I feel exposed. Like the skin where my ring used to be. Even Achilles was only as strong as his heel.”
  • gemini: “I’d push him down the stairs and light his broken body on fire just to watch it burn if it wouldn’t start a world war.”
  • cancer: “She can go after me all she wants but if she goes after Claire I’ll slit her fucking throat in broad daylight.”
  • leo: “I’ll tell you this though, Pop. When they bury me, it won’t be in my backyard. And when they pay their respects, they’ll have to wait in line.”
  • virgo: “There can be no false steps now. The higher up the mountain the more treacherous the path.”
  • libra: “He’s in the darkness now. I am his only beacon of light. Now we guide him gently toward the rocks.”
  • scorpio: “There are two kinds of pain. Good pain – the sort of pain that motivates, that makes you strong. Then there’s bad pain – useless pain, the sort of pain that’s only suffering. I welcome the former. I have no patience for the latter.”
  • sagittarius: “I always loathed the necessity of sleep. It puts the most powerful of men on their backs.”
  • capricorn: “The road to power is paved with hypocrisy and casualties. Never regret.”
  • aquarius: “There is no solace above or below. Only us – small, solitary, striving, battling one another. I pray to myself, for myself. “
  • pisces: “What a martyr craves more than anything is a sword to fall on. So you sharpen the blade, hold it at just the right angle, and then 3, 2, 1 …”
8

“Everytime I’ve spoken to you, you’ve never spoken back. Although given our mutual disdain, I can’t blame you for the silent treatment. Perhaps I’m speaking to the wrong audience. Can you hear me? Are you even capable of language or do you only understand depravity? Peter, is that you? Stop hiding in my thoughts. Come out. Have the courage in death that you never had in life. Come out. Look me in the eye and say what you need to say. There is no solace above or below. Only us. Small, solitary, striving, battling one another. I pray to myself for myself.”

Unexpected Advice

Arabok the Many Eyed was no fool.
Like any other demon he took territory and souls where he could find them, expanding his power one baby step at a time.
So when he heard of Cipher’s demise, he had no qualms about stepping up to plate in regards to Cipher’s very large and very vacant territory.
He had never liked that awful triangle anyway.
Arabok moved to the small town that lay at the heart of Cipher’s territory, ready to cause a little mayhem as a means of declaring this territory his own.
That is, until he spied the small solitary figure perched atop the tallest building, a demonic aura differentiating him from the cattle below.
With a nasty grin that was far more eye than tooth, Arabok descended.
It was not the first time he had annihilated another for a piece of territory and it certainly would not be the last.
He hadn’t gotten where he was today by not stepping on a few toes.
The eyes that pocked his skin searched the futures possible, seeing all that could ever be and relaying to him the most fortuitous route. It was a trick few could accomplish and he relished his advantage.
Confident in his victory, Arabok readied his claws to strike.
All was in his favor. The fledgling’s head would sail from his torso, golden blood staining the building forever. Arabok would emerge victorious from his easiest conquest ever.
His eyes saw all.
Then, with a single shift of the fledgling demon before him all the probabilities changed.
No longer was the outcome set in stone. Now all Arabok could see was a void darker than his own onyx skin, golden glowing lines crashing into him repeatedly. There was fire and blood.
There was death.
He froze, caught up in his vision, one by one his eyes burning out in their sockets as they followed the future of this child demon.
Attacking this demon, this Alcor, would only end in disaster and pain.
Arabok’s pain.
For the first time in his life, Arabok looked forward and felt fear.
Swiftly, he retracted himself and stared back at the wary demon, hundreds of eyes meeting a pair of black and gold orbs.
“Who are you?” The fledgling demanded tightly, the slight garble to his speech already foreshadowing the power he would grow into, the power Arabok had seen, “What do you want?”
Arabok stared down at the demon, looking past the vest and shorts to the darkness he could see beneath the skin. This child had killed Cipher and become so much more in return. Perhaps he would remember this kindness in years to come.
“Listen well, Little Star, and take my words to heart,” Arabok said cryptically, taking his only chance to revel in his fleeting time of superiority, “You are in possession of a large chunk of territory, particularly enormous for one so young. Even with your potential, others will seek to take it from you.”
“Is that what you’re here for?” The fledgling hissed, sharp teeth pulling into a grin far too wide for his face, “Arabok the Many Eyed?”
Suppressing a shudder, Arabok drew himself taller. “I am not so foolish. I merely came to warn you of events to come.”
Satisfied with his warning and eager to be away from the unnerving child demon, Arabok fled.
His sudden departure left Dipper blinking in his wake, vaguely confused and more than just a little bit anxious.
“I should probably let Mabel know about this.”