strip the flesh

the total number of humans ever to have lived is around 108 billion. the total number of people alive today is around 7.8 billion. that means there’s almost 14 skeletons per every living human.

do you think you can destroy 14 skeletons? what about your grandpa can HE destroy 14 skeletons? what about an INFANT CHILD? what kind of BABY can take on


what im saying here is that when the skeleton war happens some poor fool is gonna be fighting 15 skeletons because i’m stripping off my flesh onesie and joining the winning side.

A message to anyone who doesn't think The Arts are hardcore as fuck:

You’re wrong.

If a dancer sprains their ankle they’ll just wrap it and smile through the pain as they do crazy-ass jumps and turns and shit on it. Like, how even, Id be crying and falling over but they look like fucking deities

Theater kids rehearse for hours every day. HOURS. Like, 8+ hours on a SUNDAY for gods sake I don’t see no football player doing that tbh

Don’t even get me started on music kids. Not only do they have to have SUCH A HIGH TOLERANCE FOR BULLSHIT but reeds are fucking hell and strings fillet your fingers into little strips of flesh. Ew, I know.

And like the art kids (painting and sculpting and that shit) holy hell
do they have patience. Anyone else who stares at a canvas for 6 hours consecutively would probs go
insane and commit mass murder. And holy hell batman paint hurts like a soda can up your ass when it gets in your eyes like nooooo

Makeup artists have to deal with your ugly ass faces and somehow (probs by using black magic) turn trashcans into gods.

Then there’s photographers who will literally sometimes crawl down drainpipes or fall head-first out
of trees to get a nice picture. I wouldn’t do none of that shit wasted as fuck, let alone sober.

Conclusion: Art ppl= hardcore as peaches

Deathworlders Ho!  Sunburn

I wanted to try getting in on this whole “Humans are Space Orcs” thing, and this is my first entry, so… be kind, feedback welcome.

Three days ago, Human Ramona had, against the captain’s explicit orders, taken her containment suit off during a mission and gone diving into a body of water to retrieve a probe that had crashed and was believed lost.  

She was, despite all logic and understanding, completely fine afterwards, and had passed the bio-screenings and decontam without issue, however the ship’s medico Kreig had wanted to keep a close eye on her and had been doing regular checkups to make sure that nothing was… out of sorts with their unstoppable human murder weapon.

As the away party was coming back from a routine trading mission, Kreig stopped Human Ramona in the locker area and asked her to turn around.  “I know this is probably a fairly normal deathworlder… thing… however I wanted to check, it looks like your carapace is ‘molting’.  Is this… normal?”

Ramona took a moment to process, then backed up towards a mirror so she could see her exposed back.  “Oh!  Yeah, when I took my suit off the other day I got a little too much radiation, probably the fact that it was a binary star system.  This is just a bit of what we humans call a ‘sunburn’, my damaged skin is sloughing off and being replaced by new, healthy skin.  See?”

And with that, much to Krieg’s horror and aghast, she reached around and pulled a large chunk of her own skin off.

“I figured you of all people would know about this”, Ramona said, offering the bit of discarded flesh to Krieg.  “I thought your race molted.”

“We do.”  Krieg said, through quivering mandibles, as he reached a claw out and accepted the offered… flesh strip… unsure what to do with it.  “But for us it is an all or nothing proposition.  Once a stellar cycle, we jettison our external carapace and then spend ten days in deep meditation while a new one forms and solidifies.”

Human Ramona bared her teeth at him in the expression he had come to know as a ‘smile’.  It wasn’t comforting.  “Oh, wow, no, we humans do this all the time.  Even when there isn’t this much damage, we’re constantly regenerating new skin and hair and nails.  Only doing it once a year, that must be awfully tough on you.”

A worried thought flickered through Krieg’s hindbrain, and he politely excused himself from the Human’s company, then went into his medical bay and locked the door.  

“Ok computer, define ‘slough’.”  He read the results with a grim expression.  “Ok computer, run a shipwide scan for… human cellular material… not attached to a living human.”

As his claw reached towards the large red emergency Quarantine button, he committed the results to memory.  The positive results were displayed in red.  There were no non-red parts.  The human waste was everywhere.

anonymous asked:

If the FAHC had superpowers, what do you think they'd have? I'd like to imagine Lil J having powers of vegetation because I like the flower Jeremy thing. After that, I'm stumped.

Off the top of my head in the roughest and dirtiest way possible because I’m taking a break from an assignment…

Ryan: He’s basically Deadpool already, right? Look, it just explains a lot.

Jeremy: While I really love Plant Jeremy (and just now made the connection between Plant Jeremy and Ryan with houseplants and oh my god, my Battle Buddies-loving heart) – I can really see Jeremy with super strength. No one underestimates Lil’ J.

Michael: Super speed. He’s basically Quicksilver and oh-so-cool about it. Except his knees aren’t so great anymore. Slows him down a bit – not that anyone else can catch it.

Gavin: You would think temporal manipulation, but no. Gavin’s a Fire-starter. Seriously? Who gave this boy fire?! (Me, apparently.) He’s a walking disaster zone, but his Boi’s got his back.

Jack: Shape-shifting. You would not believe how easy getting access to secure information is when you look the part. Not to mention the free flight lessons you can get by kidnapping students on their way to their first lesson.

Geoff: Telekinesis and telepathy. The Professor X of this motley crew. He uses his power exactly how you’d imagine… mostly to try to stick things in Gavin’s butt. He also eavesdrops on the other’s thoughts constantly to mess with them although he has more sense than to break into Jack’s mind and steers clear of Ryan’s entirely, because what the fuck Ryan?

@kingsofchaos has an incredible Super-powered FAHC headcanon too.

A timeline of the life and crimes of Jeffrey Dahmer:

May 21, 1960: Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer was born at Evangelical Deaconess Hospital in Milwaukee. According to Jeffrey’s father, Lionel, his mother suffered bouts of partial paralysis during the pregnancy. Doctors were unable to find any reason for the paralysis. She was given “injections of barbiturates and morphine, which would finally relax her.” Later she was given phenobarbital as well.

1962: The Dahmers moved to Ames, Iowa, so Jeffrey’s father could work on his Ph.D in chemistry.

1964: Jeffrey was diagnosed with a double hernia in his scrotum. Surgery corrected it. Extreme pain suffered by the child both before and after the surgery could, conceivably, have influenced later feelings of sexual inadequacy or insecurity. Lionel claimed that it was from this time on that Jeffrey began to become more and more withdrawn and introverted.

November 1966: The Dahmers moved to Doylestown, Ohio. There were several other moves over the next year as they searched for just the right place to bring up Jeffrey and his brother David, who was born on December 18.

The pregnancy was as difficult for Mrs. Dahmer as her first. At this time a teacher (Jeffrey was in the first grade) noticed that Jeffrey seemed to feel neglected. This is, of course, a normal reaction for someone used to being an only child whose family suddenly expands. Most get over it fairly quickly.

Jeffrey’s father describes him as being extraordinarily shy and withdrawn during this period, actually terrified of new people and situations.

1968: The family moved to Bath, Ohio.

Jeffrey’s father has reported that Jeffrey was sexually abused by a neighbor boy at this time. Jeffrey himself claimed to remember no such thing. Molestation can be a factor in gender confusion and hostility.

Late 1970: Jeffrey’s mother was hospitalized twice for psychiatric problems. According to Lionel she had been taking drugs to deal with her extreme nervousness for years, but they didn’t work well. Thus, she was not a stabilizing influence in Jeffrey’s life.

During his school years Jeffrey built a reputation as a misfit with a penchant for stupid pranks and very heavy drinking. Some of his pranks, such as shouting things out at strange times, bleating like a sheep and faking epileptic fits, sound eerily similar to the childhood behavior of Arthur Shawcross, another serial killer who practiced cannibalism. [See The mask of sanity in the November 1994 issue of Murder Watch for more about Shawcross’s odd behavior.] They don’t seem to resemble each other in very many other ways.

June 4, 1978: Jeffrey graduated from high school. By this point he was living alone. His parents were going through an extremely bitter divorce and had each moved out. Because Jeffrey at 18, was legally an adult, the law did not allow for anyone to have custody of him. Therefore, no one took custody. Instability and a lack of emotional support continued.

June 18, 1978: Dahmer picked up nineteen year old Steven Mark Hicks hitchhiking. They went back to the house for a few beers. When Hicks tried to leave, Dahmer clubbed him with a barbell and strangled him with it. Over the next couple of weeks he methodically stripped the flesh from the bones, smashed the bones and disposed of the few remains in the back yard.

Dahmer said he killed Hicks because he didn’t want him to leave. At least one survivor of a Dahmer attack reported that after he had been at Dahmer’s apartment for a while (voluntarily), he mentioned that he wanted to leave, and Jeffrey’s attitude changed; his voice became panicky, and then the attack began. However, Dahmer’s fascination with death and the dead was already pronounced by the time he picked up Steven Hicks. Friends said he liked to pick up roadkill and take it to a shed behind his house, to skin the bodies. He also had a small animal cemetery. There were rumors that he killed neighborhood dogs and cats and even mounted a dog’s head on a stake.

This bizarre behavior must have influenced Jeffrey’s decision to kill Hicks. After all, if he just wanted to keep Hicks from leaving, he could have tied him up. Corpses are poor company, generally.

Another explanation for the killer’s panicky tone when the prospective victim wanted to leave could simply be the stress of realizing that, if he was going to kill the target, he’d better do it soon. Dahmer did indicate that he never liked the killing much; he only did it to acquire dead bodies.

After his high school graduation Dahmer enrolled in Ohio State University. He stayed only one semester before dropping out. He was now creating his own instability.

December 24, 1978: Lionel remarried.

December 29, 1978: Jeffrey was sworn into the Army. After failing to become an MP he was trained as a medic and assigned to Baumholder, Germany. This was far from a plum assignment. It was also a very few years after the humiliation of Vietnam, when morale and discipline in the armed forces were poor and drug and alcohol abuse wide spread.

In the Army, Dahmer no longer stood out as a clown and prankster. He was noticed, however, for being not only a very heavy drinker, but as an unpleasant, even violent, drunk.

After his arrest in Milwaukee became known around the world, authorities in Germany looked to see if they could connect Dahmer to murders that took place there. Though information is sketchy, it seems likely that a serial killer was active in the area at the time, but that it was not Dahmer. (The victims in Germany were young women. Dahmer killed only men.)

March 26, 1981: Dahmer was discharged from the Army before his enlistment was up because his drinking had reached the point where he simply didn’t function any more. Back in the U.S., he went to Florida where he slept on the beach for a few months before returning to Ohio.

October 7, 1981: Dahmer was arrested for disorderly conduct and resisting arrest and paid a small fine. He was drunk.

August 7, 1982: Dahmer was arrested again for disorderly conduct. He dropped his pants in public. By this time Dahmer was living with his grandmother, in part because she seemed to be the only person he responded to with anything like affection.

September 8, 1986: Jeffrey was arrested when he deliberately exposed himself while urinating in front of a group of children in Milwaukee. Another version of the story has it that he was masturbating.

By this time Dahmer was a frequent visitor to gay bars and bath houses. He was barred from one bath house because of allegations that on at least four separate occasions he took someone to a private booth and drugged them. No charges were filed, though one of the victims was hospitalized for a week or so.

September 15, 1987: The murder of Steven W. Tuomi, age 24. Dahmer claimed he woke up in a hotel room and found the victim dead, with no memory of doing anything to him. He bought a big suitcase, transported the body back to his grandmother’s house, and proceeded to dispose of it much as he had the body of Steven Hicks.

Nine years passed between the first and second murders. In a sense, the time was so long that the second murder could be treated, mentally, as another first murder. He spent years working up to it, learning how to approach other men, how to drug them, how much to drug them. He may have been too drunk to remember the murder or he may have avoided the memory because it was unpleasant - he wasn’t very skilled at killing yet.

January 1988: James Doxtator, 14, killed. Dahmer offered him money to pose nude for photos, took him back to his grandmother’s house. After sex Dahmer drugged and strangled him. By now his pattern of using acid and crushing force to destroy the remains was practiced.

March 24, 1988: Richard Guerrero, 25, came back to Dahmer’s grandmother’s house for nude photos. Again, after sex, Dahmer drugged and strangled the victim.

September 25, 1988: Dahmer moved into his own place. He offered $50 to a 13-year-old to pose nude, gave him drugged coffee and fondled him. The boy escaped. Dahmer was arrested.

From here on the pace of the murders picked up significantly. Once he had his own place, Dahmer seems to have lost most of what little control he had.

January 1989: Jeffrey was convicted of 2nd degree sexual assault and enticing a child for immoral purposes. (See above) Sentenced on May 23 to five years and three years, sentences to be served concurrently. Actually served ten months, then began five years probation.

March 25: Anthony Sears,24, was last seen alive. Dahmer met him at a club, took him back to his grandmother’s house. After sex, he drugged Sears and murdered him. Sears’s painted skull was recovered from Dahmer’s apartment after his arrest in 1991.

May 29: Ricky Beeks, 33, was last seen alive. Dahmer met him at a club and offered him money to pose for nude pictures. He drugged and strangled him and had sex with the body. The victim’s painted skull was recovered from Dahmer’s apartment after his arrest in 1991.

June 1990: Edward W. Smith, 28, killed. Dahmer met him at a bar and offered him money for sex and pictures. After sex, Smith was drugged and strangled. Dahmer took some pictures during the process of dismembering the body.

September 2: Ernest Miller, 24, was last seen alive. He met Dahmer in front of a book store. Dahmer offered him money to come home with him. After sex, Dahmer drugged him and cut his throat. He took pictures of the body and dismembered it, putting the biceps in the freezer. He bleached the skeleton and painted the skull, which was in his apartment when he was arrested in 1991.

September 24: David C. Thomas last seen alive. Dahmer met him on the street and offered him money to come home with him. Dahmer drugged Thomas and murdered him without sex, taking pictures as he dismembered the body.

March 7: Curtis Straughter, 18, last seen alive. Dahmer picked him up at a bus stop, offering him money to come home with him. He drugged Straughter and strangled him after sex, taking pictures of the dismembered body. The skull, unpainted, was recovered from Dahmer’s apartment after his 1991 arrest. This is at least the third sequence of events Dahmer experimented with. Earlier, it had been sex, drugging then murder. At least once he tried drugs, murder, sex. This is drugs, sex and murder.

April 7: Errol Lindsey, 19, last seen alive. Dahmer met him on the street and offered him money to come home with him. He drugged Lindsey, strangled him and had sex with the body. The unpainted skull was recovered from Dahmer’s apartment.

May 17: Dahmer met 14-year-old Konerak Sinthasomphone in front of a mall and offered him money to pose for nude pictures. After the pictures he drugged Konerak, then went out for beer. The boy escaped, naked into the street. Neighbors called police, but Dahmer convinced them that he and the boy were lovers who had merely had a little quarrel. Police, aparently unconcerned that Sinthasomphone was still too drugged to confirm or deny the story, returned him to Dahmer, who strangled him as soon as the police were gone. Dahmer had sex with his body, took pictures and dismembered him. His skull was recovered from Dahmer’s apartment.

When the full details of this incident became known, mild disciplinary action was taken against the officers involved. The department was also sued for a large amount of money.

May 24: Tony Hughes, 31, last seen alive. Reportedly, Hughes and Dahmer had known each other for two years. By writing (Hughes was deaf and mute) Dahmer offered him $50.00 to come home with him and pose for nude pictures. Hughes was drugged and murdered without sex. His unpainted skull was recovered from Dahmer’s apartment.

June 30: Matt Turner, 20, last seen alive. They met in Chicago at the bus station after a Gay Pride parade. Dahmer offered him money to pose nude, drugged him and strangled him with a strap. After cutting the body up, Dahmer put the head in the freezer and the rest in a barrel of acid he had obtained.

July 6: Jeremiah Weinberger, 23, last seen alive. They met in Chicago at a gay bar, where Dahmer offered him money to come back to Milwaukee. This murder is very unusual in that the victim was not murdered until the day after he came home with Dahmer. When he indicated that he wanted to leave, Dahmer drugged him, strangled him, and dismembered him, taking pictures of the process. Like the last victim, his head went into the freezer, his body into the acid.

July 15: Jeffrey was fired from the Ambrosia Chocolate Co. for bad attendance.

The same day, Oliver Lacy, 23, was last seen alive. They met on the street and went back to Dahmer’s apartment for body rubs. Lacy was then drugged and strangled. Dahmer had sex with the body before dismembering it. He put the head in the refrigerator and the heart in the freezer, “to eat later.”

July 16: Joseph Bradehoft, 25, last seen alive. They met at a bus stop, where Dahmer offered him money to pose for nude pictures. After sex, Dahmer drugged him and strangled him with a strap. He dismembered the body and, as before, put the head in the freezer and the body in the acid barrel.

July 22, 1991: Shortly after midnight, Tracy Edwards, 32, escaped from Dahmer with one hand in a handcuff and flagged down a police car. He lead the cops back to Dahmer’s apartment. They found photos of dismembered victims and body parts in the refrigerator and freezer. Shortly, the sight of crews in biohazard protection suits taking evidence out of Dahmer’s apartment was televised all over the world. The suits were necessary because of the smell of decay in the apartment and because of the acid in the barrel.

Caught red-handed, with overwhelming physical evidence against him, it’s not surprising that Jeffrey confessed. His dry, unemotional descriptions of murdering a dozen and a half young men belied the reality of brutality and sadism that was revealed in Tracy Edwards’ testimony.

It’s possible that the sameness of the descriptions (Offers of money to pose, drugs to knock them out) was not entirely accurate. Tracy Edwards claimed he was not offered money, that he only went to Dahmer’s apartment for some beers before going out again. He may have been covering up his own indiscretion, or Dahmer may have lied about the ways he lured people back to his apartment in order to make them seem less like innocent victims.

Edwards was drugged, but did not lose consciousness. This raises the possibility that the sedatives Dahmer gave victims were intended only to weaken them, while leaving them aware of what was being done to them. Dahmer had certainly had enough practice by then to have a good idea what dose was needed to knock a man out. Dahmer may have enjoyed taunting the victims about their fate and killing them, slowly, much more than he let on later.

Dahmer also claimed that he needed to drink heavily in order to be able to face killing people, but we know that he was a hard-core alcoholic for much of his life. For him, making excuses for drinking was normal and can not be regarded as likely to be honest.

January 14: Dahmer entered a plea of guilty but insane in 15 of the 17 murders he claimed to have committed.

February 15: By 10-2 majority vote, a jury found Dahmer to be sane in each murder. Testimony from defense and prosecution experts took weeks and was extremely gruesome. One expert testified that Dahmer periodically removed body parts of his victims from the freezer and ate them. Another testified that this was a lie Dahmer told to make himself seem insane. The jury deliberated slightly more than ten hours.

February 17: Dahmer was sentenced to 15 consecutive life terms. At the sentencing, Dahmer read a prepared statement in which he expressed sorrow for the pain he had caused.

“I knew I was sick or evil or both. Now I believe I was sick. The doctors have told me about my sickness and now I have some peace. I know now how much harm I have caused. I tried to do the best I could after the arrest to make amends.”

“I now know I will be in prison the rest of my life. I know that I will have to turn to God to help me get through each day. I should have stayed with God. I tried and failed and created a holocaust. Thank God there will be no more harm that I can do. I believe that only the Lord Jesus Christ can save me from my sins.”

He later pled guilty to aggravated murder in Ohio, in the death of his first victim, Steven Hicks. He was sentenced to life in prison without parole.

November 28, 1994: Dahmer murdered in prison.

Dahmer and two other inmates were assigned to clean the staff bathroom of the Columbia Correctional Institute gymnasium in Portage, Wisconsin. Guards left them alone to do their work for about twenty minutes, starting at around 7:50 a.m. When Dahmer was discovered, he was unconscious and his head and face were bloody. He died on the way to the hospital from multiple skull fractures and brain trauma.

A bloody broom handle was found near Dahmer, but a broom is probably not sturdy enough to inflict the damage that killed him. Reports in December indicated that he was struck with a steel bar stolen from the prison weight room.

One of the other two inmates in the area with Dahmer was also attacked. Jesse Anderson, 37, was pronounced dead in the hospital at 10:04 a.m. on November 30. Anderson was convicted of stabbing and beating his wife to death in 1992. He was serving a life term.

The third inmate in the work party is twenty-five-year-old Christopher Scarver, a convicted murderer reportedly taking anti-psychotic medication. Scarver murdered a coworker when he was angry at his boss. The boss got away. Scarver claimed his boss was a racist and there has been speculation that Scarver, who is black, wanted revenge for the wrongs Dahmer and Anderson (both white) had done to black people. The majority of Dahmer’s victims were black. Anderson tried to blame two fictitious black men for murdering his wife during a mugging. It’s been pointed out that a desire for publicity or status may have also been a motive.

Dahmer was attacked last July, also. A convicted drug dealer tried to cut his throat with a razor blade attached to a toothbrush handle, making a crude straight razor, but the weapon fell apart. Dahmer received minimal injuries.

Scarver is said to have delusions that he is Christ. He has been in psychiatrict observation and treatment several times, with diagnoses of bi-polar disorder and schizophrenia. He was found guilty of the murder, though, and sent to prison. A jury apparently did not believe he was insane.


Quetzalcoatlus goes down in history as the largest flying organism of all time, with a wingspan of 12 metres, which is larger than some planes. Quetzalcoatlus was the undisputed king of the Late cretaceous skies, so it seems fitting that its name is derived from an Aztec god, Quetzalcoatl. Although its wingspan is impressive, Quetzalcoatlus also had a huge 2.5 metre long skull, that is the average height of an Asian elephant!
To get such a huge animal in the air, a complex system of air sacs was needed inside the bones, this meant that Quetzalcoatlus probably weighed no more than 250kg. Quetzalcoatlus, along with many pterosaurs, was originally thought to spend most of its time gliding over the oceans, skimming fish out from the surface of the water with their elongated beaks. However, due to the skull and beak morphology and the presence of fossils far inland it has become more widely accepted that Quetzalcoatlus stalked prey far below on the land. The fore and hind limb morphology of Quetzalcoatlus also suggests that they were competent walkers on the land, they would have stood up to 3 metres tall. 

The feeding habits of Quetzalcoatlus still remain something of a mystery. It was originally thought to be more of a scavenger, but the blunt beak was unsuited to stripping and picking flesh of a bony creature. It is more likely that Quetzalcoatlus hunted like modern-day storks, stalking the land from the skies above for smaller animals and then swooping down to eat them whole.

Too many people think that vegans constantly crave meat, that we are suppressing these cravings and we have oh so much willpower to be able to resist delicious animal products, right?


There is no part of me that desires putting meat, cheese or any animal product into my body anymore. I think the smell of meat is actually revolting, I can smell it from miles away and it makes me feel sick, seeing people shove animal products into their mouths is like watching a bunch of barbarians feasting.

Of course there are vegans who struggle with cravings but usually all it takes is a good vegan substitute to change your world.

If you think all vegans constantly crave animal products and struggle to stay in control whenever we see a strip of animal flesh then you are so wrong. I’ll stick to my cauliflower wings and pulled jackfruit, thanks.

the roommate (part 1/?)

I had some free time tonight, so here’s the first bit of a thing I’m working on. ~500 words. 


Stiles’ mysterious new roommate shows up right as Stiles and Scott are sliding their second tray of ginger snaps out of the oven. Stiles thought it’d be a nice way to welcome him, break the ice a little, all that. He’s also planning to make some sugar cookies in case D. Hale has less adventurous tastes. Never let it be said that Stiles Stilinski doesn’t plan ahead.

“I’ll get it!” Stiles shouts, and opens the door still wearing his cartoon cat apron and oven mitts. Cue immediate regret and the world’s most horrifying full-body blush.

And maybe Stiles should’ve suspected that someone with a username like camaro89 wouldn’t want to sit around the kitchen table eating cookies and playing Scrabble, but still. This guy looks like he could be a volunteer firefighter or ex-marine or maybe, given the glare that’s currently melting Stiles into the floor, something closer to professional assassin.

No doubt about it, Hale could squish Stiles underfoot like an insignificant bug if he wanted to. (His eyes say he totally wants to.)

This would probably be the appropriate time for Stiles to introduce himself. Instead, he just gapes unattractively, because he has no social skills with people who are not Scott.

“You’re the Polish kid with the spare room,” Hale finally asks. No question mark anywhere in that sentence.

Stiles nods mutely.

Hale nods back, like that’s that, and shoulders his way into the apartment. Stiles scrambles backwards to avoid getting caught in the face by the dude’s duffle bag.

Scott pokes his head out from the kitchen. “Yo, dude, your key’s already in your room. First door on the right. You need any help with anything? We made cookies if you want some.”

Hale pauses ominously in the living room. The stare he fixes Scott with could strip flesh off bones.

“Or not,” Scott amends hastily. “Whatever works for you.”

That gets no response. Hale goes off down the hall without a backwards glance. He closes his door quietly but firmly behind him. There’s a click as he pushes the lock in, and then dead silence.

Stiles won’t lie, he’s feeling pretty intimidated right now.

Scott shivers. “That guy is a serial killer.”

“Is not,” Stiles says, unconvincingly.

Scott squints suspiciously in the direction of Hale’s bedroom. “He so is, oh my god. Everybody knows serial killers are, like, the only people on the planet who don’t like cookies.”

Stiles is pretty sure he didn’t know that, but it makes sense.

“This is why you don’t go shopping for roommates on Craigslist, Stiles.”

It’s definitely too late now to un-rent that room, but maybe Stiles can quietly flee back to Poland while Hale is sleeping. If he sleeps, that is. Maybe he just does push-ups in his room all night, or lies in a coffin staring up at the ceiling and digesting the blood of his victims.

“Anyway.” Stiles shoves at Scott’s shoulder. “C’mon, move, I want to drown my sorrows in ginger snaps.”

“I’m barricading the kitchen,” Scott says. 


EDIT: it has been continued.


Flesh Curtains Rick and Miami Morty meet for the first time?? @the-clairvoyant-rick here’s another FC Rick x Miami Morty <3

What’s Miami Morty thinking about??

Imma refer to him as FC Rick from now on :)

Ivar Imagine- Ivar Doesn't Share

So I’m posting early because I’m going out tonight, but this is in response to this week’s Friday Night Heathen Army Prompt about a “Ragnarsson sandwich”. I definitely took my own spin on it, it’s probably not a typical “sandwich” story.
But I still hope you enjoy! It was so fun to write.


You sigh in frustration at your lover, rolling your eyes as he glares at you. “Ivar, he will freeze otherwise. It is not a big deal.”

Ivar growls at you, gripping your waist tightly. “I said no. I do not want him touching your naked body!”

Hvitserk looks up from where he is currently attempting to breathe some life into your pitiful fire. “I’d very much like that.”

You shoot him a look. “You are not helping.”

“He can keep warm by the fire,” Ivar grits his teeth, pushing his body closer to yours. “He is not getting in here with us!”

You let out an exasperated groan. The three of you are currently stranded in the mountain cabin, pinned down by a sudden snowstorm. You had been hunting deer, and before you knew it, the temperature dropped to freezing and the snow starting flying. Hvitserk had stayed out to quickly try to find some firewood as you and Ivar hurried back to the cabin. With such cold temperatures, you knew body heat was the best way to stay warm. By the time Hvitserk had gotten back with a few twigs, you and Ivar were already naked and bundled up in furs.

Now, to keep Hvitserk from becoming an icicle, you know he has to get under the furs with you. But your jealous, stubborn lover is not fond of that plan.

“Hvitserk will keep his hands to himself,” you try to placate Ivar. “Right, Hvitserk?”

The blonde man opens his mouth to probably make a joke, but catches the murderous look in his brother’s eyes and thinks better of it. “Of course,” he says instead.

Ivar huffs childishly and sticks out his bottom lip. It’s an adorable look that usually has you giving in instantly. But not today. Your sister will kill you if you bring back her man half frozen to death. You kiss his pouty lip quickly and turn back to the shivering man now blowing on his hands.

“Get in, Hvitserk.”

He’s up and undressing in an instant. You ignore Ivar’s protests and lift up the furs so the older Ragnarsson can climb in.

He settles down beside you, back to your chest. “Ivar, move your arm,” he mutters referring to the possessive arm his brother has slung around your waist. Ivar snarls and clutches you tighter.

“No,” his breath is hot on your neck. “And if you even think about touching her with those big meaty paws of yours, I will make sure you lose some fingers-slowly.”

Hvitserk laughs while you give Ivar a scolding pinch on the arm. “No one is losing any fingers,” you say firmly. “Now everyone just be quiet and go to sleep. Hopefully the storm will be over by the morning.”

Thankfully, the brothers listen to you. Well, mostly. You can still hear Ivar grumbling under his breath as he keeps an almost bruising grip on your waist. Hvitserk is quiet, his breathing evening out as he slips into sleep.

It’s oddly comfortable, being pressed between the two brothers. You are extremely warm, with Ivar’s chest at your back and Hvitserk’s back against your own chest. You take the time to examine his form. You don’t have any sort of sexual attraction to him, but you can definitely say he is a handsome and well built man. Your sister is a lucky woman indeed.

You giggle silently to yourself as you think of what she would say if she saw you now. She’d laugh at you being the middle of a “Ragnarsson sandwich”. And then probably demand to switch places with you.

Eventually you find yourself getting drowsy, and you let go of your thoughts and let yourself be lulled into sleep by the peaceful breathing of the men surrounding you.

You wake with a start, disoriented as you feel someone trying to roll you over. You blink blearily, seeing Hvitserk’s back a few feet from your face. He must have moved away from you in the night. Which means Ivar is the one currently tugging on you.

You flip over to face him. “What in Odin’s name are you doing?”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, pulling you so you are flush against him. He kisses you hard, lips working against yours in a feverish dance that is all too famillair.

You groan against his mouth. How could you have forgotten? Ivar is a morning sex person. As soon as he wakes, he wants you. Sometimes he even wakes you up in very creative ways. This morning appears to be no different. Except usually there is not another person sharing the furs.

“We can’t,” you say frantically against his lips, “Hvitserk is right there!”

“He’s still asleep,” Ivar grips your hair tight and pulls it back to expose your throat. He begins to suck at the expanse of skin. “If you are quiet, he will not wake. He’s a heavy sleeper.”

You try to keep your wits about you as his talented mouth wrecks havoc on your sensitive flesh. “I don’t think we should-”

He snarls and sinks his teeth into you at the same time he yanks hard on your hair. You have to suppress the gasp that tears from your throat.

“You will please me now,” he hisses, gripping your hips so hard you will probably have hand shaped bruises. “You will be a good little dove and do as I say. We have made love every morning since you first spent a night in my bed. You will not deny me!”

The commanding tone melts your resolve, as it always does and probably always will. You quickly climb on top of him and fuse your lips as your bodies come together in that carnal dance you love so nuch. You try your very best to stay quiet, but it’s hard when Ivar can pull feelings and sounds out of you that no one else has before. That man can play you like the most finely tuned lyre and make you sing for him with both your body and your voice.

You have to bury your face in his neck at the end, pressing your lips into his skin so you will not cry out. He in turn bites your shoulder. When you are finished, you simply lay there, trying to catch your breath as quietly as you can.

“That sounded like fun. Why wasn’t I invited?”

You shriek and roll off of Ivar at the sound of Hvitserk’s voice. Ivar catches you and covers you both with the furs before glaring at his brother.

“You know I do not share,” he snarls, clutching you to him like you are some sort of prize. He does not even seem perturbed that his brother was apparently listening.

“Were you awake the whole time?” You squeak, feeling your cheeks flush red in embarrassment.

Hvitserk, who has rolled to face you, simply grins. “Not the whole time. I only caught the end. You are not as quiet as you think you are.”

“Apparently,” you press further into Ivar, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

“Are you sure you do not wish to share, Ivar? She looks like she could go a second round,” Hvitserk teases.

The growl that rips from Ivar is positively animalistic. “Suggest that again and I will strip the flesh from your bones. I. Do. Not. Share.”

Hvitserk just laughs and proceeds to get out of the furs and find his clothes. “As you wish, brother mine. I will just have to wait until I get back to Visna.” He finishes dressing and gives the two of you a wink. “The storm has passed. I’m going to get firewood. You two do what you want.”

Once the door shuts behind him, you let out a loud groan.

“I can’t believe this. I told you it was a bad idea!”

Ivar just pushes you onto your back and swings himself on top of you. “No idea of mine is a bad idea. Hvitserk can listen all he wants, so long as he does not touch.” He gives you a wicked grin. “Now, about a second round…..”

Hvitserk is right, you can go another round.

And you don’t bother trying to be quiet.


Happy Friday, my sister wives! And everyone else too, come join us!


The Cranley garden drains where the human remains of Dennis Nilsen’s victims were discovered. Nilsen, an active serial killer, had been murdering men in his apartment and disposing of the bodies by slowly stripping and boiling flesh from the bones and flushing these remains down the toilets. Understandably this lead to the plumbing of his apartment building becoming blocked, and his crimes were uncovered when the plumber recognised the unusual biological deposits within the sewer system.

A Breach of Trust: Chapter 22

(Act 1: Chapter 1-9 )

(Act 2: Chapter 10-18 )

(Act 3: Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21)

Stress tensed every muscle in Ritsu’s body.

He leaned forward, left hand braced against the side of his desk. His right hand worried the pencil in its grip, flipping between eraser and tip as his notes became agitated scrawls. He erased, again and again, until shavings littered his desk, and lead ground into his paper, and he fell behind.

The teacher stood at the board. Fraction problems appeared. The answers rolled out next to them.

They did not match Ritsu’s answers.

Ritsu looked at his own paper, not one single problem correct. He reworked them until he could no longer read them. The meaning of numbers and symbols escaped him. And then the teacher moved on, unaware, assuming the class had understood what Ritsu could not grasp. Maybe they had. A small and stifled panic bloomed in Ritsu’s chest, so Ritsu flipped the page and braced his pencil to the blank lines and tried again this time to follow.

He never struggled in class. Why now? Why this topic specifically…?

“Ritsu…? I don’t get it. Can you help me?”

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Fallout New Vegas: The melancholic struggles of a courier in a hostile, post-apocalyptic land where the real danger is not the deadly flora or fauna, it’s the other survivors. What starts as mere survival becomes a conquest of domination.

Fallout New Vegas Dead Money: Greed laid calamity and waste to this self-contained purgatory once, and it will do so again. Will the stitched lives of this ragtag band of misfits hold together, or will blood be spilled like wine once again in the halls of this temple of hedonism held together by the sins of its past inhabitants?

Fallout New Vegas Honest Hearts: These are signs, not just scars, on my shoulder. Calamity is not a hunter that prowls only its turf, it pursues, it hunts, it dominates, and it subdues. The pure children have already turned to war. Will your actions push them further down the path of stripped flesh and salted wounds, or will you silence the voices of their wrath, and lead them out of the River Styx?

Fallout New Vegas Old World Blues: WACKY SPACE ADVENTURES

Fallout New Vegas Lonesome Road: Become involved in the lives of so many others, and you come to forget your own struggles. This is not about the land. This is not about the factions. This, this is all about what your decision will be, and what you do when the moment comes, once you are done walking this lonesome road.

Be My Muse [1/2]

Pairings: Bucky x Reader || Steve x Peggy

Summary: Modern AU. This part involves handsome strangers, a bar and friends trying to set each other up on dates.

Warnings: Potentially some language. Besides that, none, unless you need a warning for fluff :)

Notes: For @just-some-drabbles‘ writing challenge. My prompt was #42: “It’s a dare, you have to do it. Those are the rules.” This is in bold somewhere.

Also - I’ve never worked in a cafe/coffee shop, so apologies if things aren’t accurate. Feel free to (constructively) correct me if this is the case!

[Part 2]

My Masterlist || {gif source}

The cafe is always quiet at 4pm on a Thursday.

You’re busying yourself behind the counter, taking advantage of the afternoon lull to get some cleaning and organising done. Thus far, you’ve polished the pastry display case, wiped down the countertop and put away the cleaned mugs and plates from this morning’s customers.

Although the cafe is a lovely place to work in, it’s not exactly where you imagined yourself to be, at this stage of your life.

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Convergence 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 - Part 1 Chapter 14 - Part 2 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19-1 Chapter 19-2 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22

A/N: The drama continues to unfold…

Bucky hits the water with a force that would strip the flesh from an ordinary man; good thing Bucky wasn’t of the norm, but the pain that ricocheted throughout his body was that of an ordinary man. The impact of the water knocked the wind out of him as his mind became his own again and his thoughts flashed to the day he fell out of the train into the icy ravine then being found by Doctor Zola, receiving his bionic arm and the agony of having his mind erased. The shock of it all caused him to lose consciousness as he sunk to the depths.

The Iron Man suit attaches itself to Bucky’s limbs, it emerges and shoots out of the water, up and out of the misty haze into the blinding sunlight and back on solid ground. The suit peels itself from Bucky as his limp body crumbles to the ground into a heap. Steve and Bruce administered CPR until Bucky finally came to, spitting and coughing up the water in his lungs.

“We definitely need to put up a caution, at your own risk sign or some netting.” Sam states, kicking some loose rocks over the cliff.

 I sat on the ground, bringing my knees up to my chest as close as they would go and I wrapped my arms around my legs and held my head down and cried. The emotions flowing through me was unbearable, words wouldn’t suffice, so I did the only thing I could do.

I became inconsolable.

I felt his arm rubbing my back. “That’s twice.” I say looking up at him with tears streaming down my face. “You’ve almost died twice in the past two months and it’s not work related. Why are you doing this? What did I do for you to keep reopening the same wounds? We are not okay, all of this, I never imagine this.”

“I never meant to cause you any pain, I will do any and everything to make this pain go away, but you are not the only one hurting, Doll, you slept with him and you are pregnant with my child. How could you be so cruel to me? I don’t deserve that, you know that I don’t.” 

I gazed up at him. “Bucky, I didn’t sleep with Loki when we were in Asgard. The desire was there, but I could never betray you in that way.”

“But in the room, you said…”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

I felt the relief wash over his body as he relaxed. “Oh.” 

“Oh.” I mocked. “That’s all you have to say, seriously?” I stood up and began to walk into the house.

He grabbed my arm. “Stop walking away from me.” He sighed. “No, that’s not all I have to say, but that’s all I kept thinking about. I see how he is with you, everyone sees it,” he gestures. “And I feel like the idiot that’s in love with you, while you’re in love with him and it makes me jealous that I could never be that affectionate and attentive with you. I think it would be easier if this was Loki’s child.”

I slapped him.


 My fingers balled into a fist and I pounded on his chest. “How fucking dare you say that! Who is the cruel one now? Is that what you want for this to be easy because if that’s the case you can walk the hell away from me and not come back. What part of this could ever be normal and easy? Look around you James, normal doesn’t exist here and it never will. My child…our child’s uncles are not normal look at them.” He eyes jump from Sam, Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Thor who all tried, but failed horribly at trying to pretend they weren’t listening to our conversation. “James all we do lately is fight. We can’t have an argument without you losing your shit and turning into a killer assassin.” I paused. “With Loki it’s different, it will always be different with him. I love him that will never stop. I loved him, but no longer in the way that you are imagining.”

“He’s still in love with you.”

“Yes, he is. And he always will be. James, Loki and I…what I was trying to explain to you earlier was that…” I paused, looking down at my hands then at Thor, who inconspicuously nodded his head. I inhaled deeply. “Loki and I were engaged.”

The air left everyone’s lungs as their mouth hung open in shock.

Sam gapes at Thor, “not your secret to tell, huh. You knew this entire time?” Thor shrugged indifferently. “I did not see this coming. Mind blown.” Sam gestures.

“Engaged as in fiancee?”

I nod. “When you are trying to take over the world that kind of take precedence over a relationship with a human. And then getting arrested for said war crimes and being sent to prison. Loki is…” I paused. “We decided to go our separate ways.”

“If it’s over, why is he here?”

“I take her to the Dreamless.” Everyone turns to see Loki standing at the spot where Bucky tossed him into the precipice. Bucky’s demeanor changes from a calm warmth into a static ball of heat.

“The what?” Sam asked.

“Brother didn’t think you would be back.” Loki shrugs.

“What is the Dreamless?” Bucky asked.

Thor answers. “It’s essentially a graveyard where all matter in different dimensions go to die. Stars, planets, suns, etc.”

“That’s morbid.” Sam states.

Loki lifts his hands cautiously as he slowly steps forward. “I take her to the Dreamless because she is unwell, James.” Bucky gazes at me. “She is so fragile right now, so many unhealthy thoughts are in her head.”

“And a graveyard isn’t unhealthy.” Sam utters.

Loki continues looking at me then at Bucky, “she is mentally and emotionally wiped out. Do you know that she’s not eating or sleeping?”

I shook my head, “Lo, please.”

“He has to know, you know he does.”

Bucky turns to me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“When could I have told you? When you weren’t talking to me, when you were knocked unconscious…when you were busy with Natasha.” I answered harshly.

“That’s no fair.”

“Sleeping with Nat makes it fair?”

“No, it doesn’t, but I can explain.” The voice behind me answers.

I turn to see Natasha and Clint standing in the doorway…

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Of Engine Oil, Tears and Happiness

”No, it’s an actual tear, but it shouldn’t be…”

Gentle, sometimes violent, but always trying to get to the heart of things, there is an emotional pull to the episodes of series 10. It’s found in Bill’s openness, as her emotions and thoughts spill across her face, her words, her imagination. Rarely has there even been a companion so vibrantly, uncompromisingly and genuinely herself, in every way, no matter what happens.

But it also carries us through story about story, calling for empathy and understanding. It’s getting true the true nature of robots and wishes. It’s believing the best of those held in chains and recognising true monsters. It’s realising the truth about a scary house and about a family. It’s about knowing yourself, holding on to who you are even as falsehoods claw at your mind. It’s about finding your fate, even if it’s portals to other worlds or far away from home on Mars. It’s trusting that even evil is capable of goodness, as long as she wants to.

There’ is beauty in reaching out, even when it is scary. Even when the world has been broken and twisted beyond recognition. There is kindness in everyone. There is hope in tears. And that is why Heather’s story could never end with only a mournful goodbye.

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funnyfoxes55  asked:

Hi im not sure if u answered this already, but since your charaters have beaks, what do they use to shorten them?

Ah yes, I wondered when someone might ask this question… First, some scribbly studies to give folks a better idea of what the Aequis beak is like:

The keratinous beak is only present on the upper jaw, and is flexible: it can be lifted up to expose the shearing teeth. The beak itself doesn’t play much of a role in feeding, its primary use is to preen feathers: the inside is lined with spicules that act as a comb when pressing a feather against the flexible lower lip and running it through, feather shaft to tip.

The beaked lip does experience some rubbing wear when feeding (especially when stripping flesh from bone) but Aequis tend to be meticulous groomers even when it comes to their beaks/talons/scales: shiny beaks, etc. are always good points when trying to attract a mate. 

So to keep their beaks short and trim, Aequis will use any roughened, hard surfaces they can find, from tree branches, to rocks, to bones.  Aequis may also use the hard inner edge of their curving outer talons to scrape away any residue leftover from feeding.

I just realized I missed a golden opportunity to draw the very derpy face an Aequis makes when it drags the point of its beak across a rough surface to wear down the point. NEXT TIME!

Something Worth Fighting For- 3

Summary: You’ve just begun to settle into life as an Avenger when a mission gone awry divides the team in half, and a familiar face shows up just in time to make you second guess your every choice. Third installment of the Worth Fighting For Series

Words: 1595

Masterlist    Part 2

You sat between Steve and Sam, staring straight ahead as the funeral proceeded. It was a long, arduous affair, but well deserved. Ahead, you could see the arrangement of flowers surrounding a photo of Peggy- taken before the end of the second world war. She was beautiful, young, and you couldn’t help but wonder when her hair had started to turn grey.

After losing Bucky, and then Steve, it felt like the world was coming down around you. Buildings began to decay, countries formed and reformed. People had children or they died; Peggy’s hair turned grey, Howard got married. Dugan and Jones and Morita- the Howling Commandos- most of them were killed or retired to live out the rest of their lives as civilians. They were all gone, now, and Peggy was the last of them. It was just you, Steve and Bucky now.

 That is, if Bucky was still alive.

Please tell Rogers: when you gotta go, you gotta go.

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