the benefactor

Ah,” Tarkin said, his voice dropping a few more degrees. “So you drop the names of two highly respected individuals in the hope that I’ll think you have powerful friends and benefactors. Which one of them suggested that?”
“Neither,” Arihnda said, starting to sweat a little. “I’ve always considered that you were the only benefactor I needed.”
To her relief, he gave her another thin smile. “Thank you for not presuming we would ever be friends.
— 

Thrawn  by Timothy Zahn

This exchange is so good. It has the quintessence of Tarkin :)

This gravestone from 1875 reads:

“Kate McCormick, Seduced and pregnant by her father’s friend, Unwed she died from abortion, her only choice, Abandoned in life and death by family, With but a single rose from her mother, Buried only through the kindness of an unknown benefactor, Died February 1875, age 21, Victim of an unforgiving society, Have mercy on us.”

I see your Frat Boy Vitya headcanons and I raise you:

Yuuri Katsuki being dragged to his first frat party after line three years at college spent just trying to blend into whatever wall is nearest. This is never going to happen and Yuuri thinks it’s because everyone is just amazed at how little of his shit he has together.

(They aren’t. “Fucking LOOK at him,” sighs many a sexually frustrated undergrad while pining loudly in Yuuri’s direction. Yuuri scuttles away with his hood closed almost completely around his face.)

Yuuri arrives at the party and immediately finds The Dog.

“There’s a dog here,” he tells Phichit, and spends the next three hours sitting on the floor with the dog.

“How are you?” he asks the dog very seriously as the dog slowly licks his shoulder. This is a Premium Dog. “Yes, good. Is my shoulder tasty? I’m so glad. I’m so glad you find my shoulder tasty. Whose dog are you?” The dog’s tags are in Cyrillic, which is really weird. Yuuri squints at the tag and finally says, “Whoever Binktop is, he has a really good dog.”

“Makkachin,” someone says eventually, and the dog gets up and goes to the interloper. 

“No, come back,” Yuuri whimpers as the dog leaves. He doesn’t go far–the guy who called him is standing on the edge of he crowd wearing Chinos and Gucci sunglasses.

They’re inside. At night.

“Are you Binktop?” Yuuri asks him blearily. People have been bringing him drinks the whole time he’s been sitting with the dog and he doesn’t know what that’s about. Probably they feel sorry for him.

(”I brought him a drink, Chad,” says a certain dejected brother of Iota Sigma Upsilon. “He took it but he looked like he was going to cry. All he said was I don’t need your pity. I don’t understand?”)

“Excuse me?” asks Binktop. There is some sort of expensive imported cider in his hand. He looks down at his dog as though he will know the answer.

Yuuri points at the dog’s tags. “Binktop. His owner.”

“Oh,” says Binktop. He bends down to show Yuuri that, on the backside of the tag he’d been looking at, the same information is listed in English. “No. Viktor.”

Yuuri frowns and squints. “You look more like a Binktop to me.” He holds out a hand for Makkachin the Dog and waits until he comes to sniff it. “You have a really good dog, Binktop. He’s a great dog.”

“You’re that figure skater, right?” Binktop asks, crouching down next to his dog. “Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Yes,” Yuuri sighs dejectedly. “That’s me.”

“Sick,” Binktop says.

“Yes, I am,” Yuuri says. “Do you have a bathroom, Binktop?”

He and Binktop spend half the night on the floor of the president of Iota Sigma Upsilon’s en-suite bathroom. Yuuri doesn’t know why Binktop chose to bring him to this bathroom, but it’s the one they’re in. Binktop doesn’t really seem interested in leaving, either. He holds Yuuri’s hair for him and listens to him talk about his family. Makkachin the Really Good Dog is there.

“It would probably be a good idea if you stayed here tonight,” Binktop says slowly after several hours of this. Yuuri stopped puking a awhile ago, thankfully. “I don’t know who you came here with, or where you live. I don’t think you do either.”

“Okay, I’m just gonna–” Yuuri climbs into the shower and curls up at the bottom. “This is good. I’m gonna sleep here, okay Binktop?”

“You could–I mean, if you want–my bed is softer.”

Yuuri glares at Binktop over his shoulder.

“No! I swear, no funny business. I’ll crash in Chris’ room. Or Micky or–someone, I promise.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

Binktop helps Yuuri get into bed and leaves a bucket next to him and makes him drink a glass of water. When he tries to take Makkachin with him, Yuuri tosses the covers back and says, “The good boy stays,” and Makkachin hops up. Binktop looks at Yuuri like he’s stolen something from him. The dog, probably.

(”I’m in love,” Viktor says to Chris later that night, swooning on Chris’ floor. “He stole my heart, right there!”)

Yuuri finds out later that Binktop is, in fact, Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor Nikiforov whose parents are major benefactors to the university. The gym where Yuuri trains is called the Nikiforov Intramural Sports Complex.

Viktor Nikiforov is the president of Iota Sigma Upsilon.

“Oh shit,” Yuuri whispers to himself.

“Do you want to go to breakfast?” Viktor Nikiforov asks him, looking a little less douchy in the light of day. Now that he’s not dressed up for a party, he’s wearing normal-person clothes, jeans and a university sweatshirt. His hair is ungelled and he looks nice and handsome. “I’ll walk you home first so you can change.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says softly.

Yuuri goes to breakfast with Viktor Nikiforov and then goes back to the Iota Sigma Upsilon house, where Viktor skillfully eats him out and announces that he intends to become Yuuri’s boyfriend.

The brothers of Iota Sigma Upsilon hoot and holler at Yuuri and Viktor’s wedding when Chris gets up with a microphone and says, “Let me tell you about how Yuuri and Viktor met! It started with a party and a dog…”

Show Some Appreciation

You may be a 10 and he’s a 2.  You’re in your prime, as he has aged less than gracefully.  You feel like a Victoria Secret’s Angel & the world is your runway, while he’s embarrassing to be seen in public with.  You think you’re God’s gift to this earth?  

You may feel you’re entitled to his money, gifts, wealth, etc., just don’t let him know it.

Even as your sugar daddy/sponsor/benefactor/client, he’s still human.  As we know, these men don’t want “to feel like an ATM.”  Regardless of how you may feel, try to lose the entitlement.  A man can be 100x more generous when he feels appreciated (Trust Me!).  

  • Thank him, praise him, show a little gratitude.
  • Give him a handwritten card.
  • Leave a ‘thank you’ post-it on the bathroom mirror for him to find in the morning.
  • Kiss a note card with a note written on it, and place it in his coat pocket or luggage to find (DO NOT do this if he’s married, you don’t want the Mrs. to find it)
  • Buy him a gift/book/wine/liquor that you think he’d enjoy.
  • Send him an e-card letting him know you’re thinking of him.
  • Call the restaurant ahead of time and ask for “Thank You” to be written on his dessert plate - when it comes out, let him know how much you appreciate his generosity and all that he does for you. You’ll get so many brownie points for this one if you do it right ;)

Little things. They don’t have to be extravagant or costly; just let the guy know that he’s appreciated (even if you don’t, at least let him believe that you appreciate his generosity). 

Showing a little appreciation goes a LONGGGGG way. 

  • Season 1: Who’s the alpha?
  • Season 2: Who’s the kanima?
  • Season 3a: Who’s the darach?
  • Season 3b: Who’s the nogitsune?
  • Season 4: Who’s the benefactor?
  • Season 5: Who’s the beast?
  • Season 6: Who’s Stiles?
Blood

Request: Summary: reader wakes to find Peter covered in blood and tries to get him all cleaned up

Author’s Note: I imagined this as after Peter killed the Mute because he was all bloody and such. I hope you like this! Enjoy c:

Warnings: Blood

*******************************************************************************************

To say I had a…special kind of relationship with the Hales would probably be an understatement. We were very close. It was very difficult to put into words what we had. Sometimes I felt like a mother figure; sometimes we were best friends; sometimes I felt like a girlfriend to one of them. To put any one specific label on it was way too complicated. 

But it still scared me half to death when my eyes cracked open in the darkness of my room, an odd feeling sending shivers up my spine. I rolled over to find Peter standing by the edge of my bed covered in blood. It took all I had in me not to scream.

“Peter!” I scolded, sitting up and flicking on my small bedside light. “What the hell are you doing?” My eyes traveled over his body and widened immediately. I jumped out of bed, inspecting him for injuries, my heart racing a million miles an hour. “Oh my god,” I muttered, brows furrowed in concentration. Peter just looked at me, not saying a word. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

I led him to the bathroom by the hand, trying my best not to get blood all over me. I turned on the light and sat Peter down on the edge of the tub, carefully pulling off his stained shirt. I wet a washcloth and knelt in front of his body, dabbing at the spots of blood that covered his skin. I started with his face, holding his chin in my fingers and swiping the washcloth over him gently, leaning over the edge of the tub to rinse it out every now and then. Peter’s eyes followed all of my movements silently. This was definitely a mom moment.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” Peter asked quietly, startling me a bit. “None of this is mine.” I paused as he watched me, waiting for a response. My mouth opened to say something, but I decided against it and just continued to dab at the dried blood on his chest and arms. I wouldn’t meet his eyes for fear of what I would see there. After awhile, he was finally cleaned off and I stood up, heading to the sink. My hands were stained red now. I scrubbed them clean under the warm water, not looking up when Peter walked up behind me. “It had to do with the benefactor,” he said. I sighed, turning off the tap and looking into his eyes in the mirror.

“I don’t need the details,” I said softly. Peter wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. I closed my eyes, letting us have this peaceful moment. A small grin crossed my lips when he nuzzled into my neck, light scruff tickling my skin.

“Do you mind if I sleep with you tonight?” he mumbled.

“That’s fine,” I told him, patting his arm before pulling away and walking back into my room. We crawled into bed silently and I turned off the light, bathing us in darkness. After awhile I could hear Peter’s steady breathing and faint snore. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling. My mind was racing a million miles an hour. There was no way I was getting back to sleep tonight. I tried shifting positions and rustling around, but nothing worked. 

With a heavy sigh, I got up and walked downstairs. My feet padded quietly against the floor. I needed comfort in closeness, something to slow my thoughts down. Biting my lip, I headed toward Derek’s bed, eyes on his sleeping form. I leaned down and poked his large arm a few times until he started to wake up.

“Y/N?” he asked, sitting up a bit, his voice riddled with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep,” I told him meekly, fiddling my hands. 

“What’s the matter?” He was sitting up fully now, eyes filled with concern. I shook my head. Tears were pricking my eyes and I didn’t even know why I was so upset.

“Peter came up, and-” I stopped when a lump began to form in throat. I shifted my weight to my other foot and huffed.

“It’s alright,” Derek told me. “Do you wanna…?” He gestured to the covers, pulling them up a bit. I nodded and crawled in next to him, getting comfortable. Derek’s arm fell over my waist, the warmth of his body pressing against my back lightly. His hand played with a stray piece of my hair and I let out a long breath, closing my eyes.

That was the great thing about Derek and I. We didn’t need to say much to each other to know what the other needed. After awhile, I was finally able to drift into a shallow sleep, dreaming that my hands were covered in blood. 

3

The Velvet Underground and Nico, released 50 years ago tomorrow (there is actually some disagreement on the exact date), is the definitive way-ahead-of-its-time album. With a near-peerless collection of songs — nearly all written by frontman Lou Reed — and an iconic, banana-sticker cover designed by band benefactor Andy Warhol, this jarring and innovative collection was initially a cult success at best, with no hit singles and a “peak” of No. 171 on Billboard’s albums chart in December 1967. But the world eventually caught up with it, and for the past 30 years it’s had perennial placement on best-ever lists, including No. 13 on Rolling Stone’s 2012 “500 Greatest Albums of All Time” tally.

It’s the first album to truly combine a novelist’s gritty realism with equally confrontational rock music, yet it’s also a fount of soft, vulnerable songs like “Femme Fatale” and “I’ll Be Your Mirror” — songs that are all the more poignant because you can sense, somehow, that the sensitive soul who wrote them is also kind of an asshole.

Still, it was initially considered a commercial failure, selling approximately 60,000 copies in its first two years — not bad, but no More of The Monkees. This was due partially to a legally induced (more on that shortly) factory recall that removed the album from shelves just as its Warhol-driven publicity was peaking. But that certainly wasn’t the only challenge to its commercial prospects; the group’s ensuing albums met an even more dismal commercial fate, and a disillusioned Reed left the band in August, 1970. Despite his solo success, The Velvets’ catalog gradually slipped out of print over the next few years.

The Velvets gradually assumed their proper, lofty place in rock history, their oeuvre was reissued in the U.S. in 1984 (although The Velvet Underground and Nico’s cover was a single-sleeve reduction of the original gatefold with a printed banana instead of a sticker). Thus another generation of obsessives was spawned. And on and on.

Yet the most atypical obsession of those five decades may be that of veteran music publicist and longtime Velvets fan Mark Satlof, who collects original pressings of the album. He owns more than 800 of them – he’s actually not sure exactly how many – which are neatly filed on shelves in his study. They account for an estimated 1 percent of all copies manufactured in the U.S. before March 1969.

800 Copies: Meet The World’s Most Obsessive Fan Of ‘The Velvet Underground and Nico’

Photos: Christopher Gregory for NPR

briellasophia  asked:

hey loves i was wondering if y'all have a tag for where stiles and derek are both super protective of each other?

We have a protective!Derek tag and Protective!Stiles tag but here’s moar! - Anastasia

Originally posted by theflowersknow

Especially You by MellytheHun

(1/1 I 949 I Teen)

“Is now a bad time to mention I’m claustrophobic?”

Hands Off by Reiya_Wakayama

(2/2 I 2,152 I Teen I Girl!Stiles)

No one messes with what is hers.

Join the club by Nival_Vixen

(1/1 I 8,598 I Mature)

Derek is human now, the others are following up on Scott’s theory about the Benefactor being a Banshee, and Stiles is more of a badass and less of a hyperactive spaz than Derek initially thought.

A seed taking root by Nival_Vixen

(7/7 I 11,107 I Mature)

It wasn’t really in his life plan to get a tattoo, because, y'know - huge freaking phobia of needles over here, thank you very much! - but Stiles kept reading these things about images and words imprinted on a person’s skin actually having power in the magic books that Deaton had given him. (There were actual emissary books in the world, who knew?! They would’ve been helpful a year ago, but whatever. Deaton was still vague and cryptic as all fuck, but the books were helping now. A bit. It was hard to think of anything as helping, especially after the nogitsune, but Stiles couldn’t sleep without waking up screaming, so he figured reading these books were better than the alternative.)

After the events of the nogitsune, Stiles decides to get a tattoo without letting the others know. Derek finally finds him at the tattoo parlour and decides to stay with him, even after the end.

Light at the end of the tunnel by Lesatha

(1/1 I 19,413 I Mature)

“Careful, Stilinski. Don’t think you can go around telling me what to do, or coddling the werewolf.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“If the feral alpha kills you, it will be my fault, as your supervisor.”

Stiles’ head whipped towards the werewolf. He couldn’t see much of him apart from his red eyes, always following Stiles. Crazy as it might sound, it comforted him. The werewolf wasn’t the rabid animal Elis seemed to picture. He was just… hurt.

Nothing Stays The Same by BigBadLittleRed

(14/14 I 33,570 I Teen)

There had been a tremendous amount of stress, emotional and physical tolls pressing down on all of them. There had been death, pain, sadness. Many things pushed him to act, certain moments that told him it was time to make a move.

So he left with a note to his dad and two bags of stuff before getting on a bus. Beacon Hills turned into a distant memory behind him as the bus drove through the night. No matter how much guilt he felt, there was a fire in his chest that told him he was doing the right thing for himself.

That was three years ago, and now he’s back. Armed with victory scars, a new outlook on life, and a new list of priorities.

Number 1: Derek
Number 2: Himself

He’s only here for a favor, that’s it. He needs to do his job, and get the hell out.

Of Wolves and Little Reds by maimas

(12/? I 33,942 I Mature)

Stiles was really hoping that after the whole Kanima and Gerard thing that things would go back to normal. Well, normal-ish? Whatever. It didn’t. She really just needed to accept that this was her life now. Werewolves are a major pain in the ass. Especially those of the Alpha variety. Ugh.
She could handle a lot of bull-shit, but really? Really? Werewolves, man. Werewolves.

Non-Compliant and Always Underestimated (or Underestimating… Shut Up Scott) by nina_rosa95

(28/? I 40,189 I Mature)

He folds his arms under his head and nods at Derek as he approaches, claws extended. Stiles exhales deeply, eyes fixated on the tips of Derek’s claws. “I’m ready.”

Stiles doesn’t tense under his touch like Derek thought he would. He doesn’t whimper or writhe with aborted movements to get away from Derek’s touch when he starts on the first leg of the Triskelion, the incision too shallow at first. He doesn’t ball up his fists when Derek has to dig into the beginning of the first leg to split the sinew apart deeper than before.

His heart rate doesn’t make alarming jumps and he never tells Derek to stop, not even when Derek digs his claws into the pale, vulnerable flesh of his stomach above his navel as he draws the second leg of the Triskelion.

A Wolf and His Boy by lovesrain44

(1/1 I 59,000 I Mature)

While running in the woods, Stiles is attacked by a feral werewolf. This leaves him marked but unclaimed, which makes it open season on Stiles, which means that any wolf can claim him and take him away. Derek presents a solution, but Stiles says the price is too high. After all, it’s only his safety that is at risk, so he can say no. Right? Wrong.

Lonely Road by CranApplePye

(22/? I 168.791 I Explicit)

Stiles is running from things he doesn’t want to face. Derek is running from a past he cannot leave behind. Their paths collide on a lonely stretch of road when Stiles’ car breaks down and Derek is the only mechanic on hand. An unexpected closeness develops, but both men are harboring secrets and Stiles may have just found the one person whose luck runs worse than his own. When the past catches up with the future, it may be one collision that neither of them can survive, and it may end up pulling everyone they love down with them.

As everything begins to unravel, choices must be made. Stiles must decide how far he’s able to go to protect the people he cares about, and what he’ll do when he hits his breaking point. Derek must decide whether he can overcome a lifetime of betrayal enough to trust in someone again, and what he’s willing to sacrifice if he is. And Scott and Allison must decide what it means to stand by your friends, and what price they are each willing to pay to do what is right.

There’s Magic Between You and I by halcyon1993

(25/25 I 260,699 I Explicit)

After the disaster that was junior year, Stiles is more than ready to finish his last year of high school and move on to college. He splits his time between his studies, taking care of the pack—well and truly blossoming into his new role as the alpha’s mate—and training his powers with Deaton. At the same time he learns shocking secrets about his heritage, strange things start happening around town and to the pack themselves, and he finds himself in a race to save everyone when a new evil arrives and threatens to destroy everything he loves.

youtube

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hFmYnXTS_Q)

Hi Guys! I’m back! 

Alpha – Scott McCall

Scott McCall x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Warnings: Mature content, sexual content, NSFW.
Word count: 1 297

Summary: Scott feel the urge to step in as his role of the alpha and teaching his new beta about the benefits that comes along with being a werewolf.


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even if it's fake || stiles stilinski

word count: 4793

warnings: swearing, angst

request: hi could i get a stiles imagine where he and the reader broke up then few days later reader messages him saying before he can block her she’s making him say ‘i love you’ even though he doesn’t mean it. if only i could send you the pic of where i got this idea 😭😭😭 hope u understand this TY AND ILY 💕💕

author’s note: sorry that this took so long to get written! i sort of changed it up a bit, but i hope you enjoy it. thank you to @dumbass-stilinski who gave me a few ideas, and @stilinski-jpeg who read it before it was finished. and also hay and soph for reading this after i finished it! @sincerelystiles @sarcasticallystilinski

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