the way you think is unnatural

stonecoldkidding  asked:

Hi! I love animals, so I've gone vegan and started studying biology/animal psych in my free time. I wanna go to museums and other places that have educational stuff like skeletons, but my politics make me wonder if the stuff if ethical (1/2)

Was the animal killed or kept in confinement/an unnatural environment? Etc. Do you ever have this problem? And even if you don’t, do you have any ideas on how to get around it? Thank you very much!

There is literally no way to get around the fact that most animals in museum collections were either captive specimens while they were alive or collected through hunting. It’s simply not practical to pick up things that are already dead and attempt to turn them into museum quality specimens - roadkill or things that are already rotting have damage, and you can’t accurately study them. 

Here’s how I would encourage thinking about it: you’re not perpetuating any further death through your patronage of facilities with animal-based collections. With the advancement of technology, the scientific world has almost entirely moved on from needing to kill things in order to study them.*

The animals in the collection are already dead, but they’re effectively ambassadors for the protection of their brethren because they’re part of the collection. Their death has allowed scientists to study them in order to protect and conserve the ones still living, has let them touch the minds of of visitors and spark their passion, has given us a way to still value and remember the species we’ve driven into extinction. There’s a very solid truth to the educational mantra that people will often only care about the things they have personal experience with. The animals in these collections are vital for that, and I think it’s much more important to honor them by supporting the good they can still do for every other living member of their species than to boycott educational facilities due to choices that were made decades, if not centuries before now. Even if those specimens were held captive for pride or killed for a trophy, they are valuable and vital for scientific advancement and education. 

You can’t change how they died - but you can choose, with your actions, to support what that sacrifice means now. 

*Some facilities will still do collection trips, and no institution will turn down access to the body of a rare animal in order to study it in ways that are impossible while they were alive. However, these projects are often grant- or school-funded, and it is highly unlikely that your presence and admission fee or lack therof will effect the continuation of these practices in any significant way. 

anonymous asked:

How about sin prompt #9

“9. Going commando” 

This was … probably not exactly what you wanted. I apologize for that. It was amusing to write though. Ao3.

“Do you think Ladybug and Chat Noir wear underwear under their suits?”

Marinette couldn’t get Alya’s question out of her head. It was meant to just be a silly question, Marinette was sure. Alya spent most of her time wondering about the superhero duo and frequently she came up with some pretty strange questions.

But the question about the underwear stayed with her. Mainly because she didn’t know the answer. She had been Ladybug for three years and she had no idea.

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X-Files Fic: What Was Taken, What Was Lost- Chapter Four

This chapter is rated “M” for explicit sexual content.  I know, you’re all so shocked and scandalized, aren’t you?

Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three

There are voices at the very edges of Mulder’s awareness, one very familiar, one less so, pricking at his consciousness, seeking to drag him out of the peaceful slumber into which he has fallen.  It’s warm where he is, comfortable, though he knows, somehow, that the warmth is wrong, a dangerous illusion.

MULDER!”  Even through his fog of confusion and lethargy, he recognizes Scully’s voice, hears the panic and terror that tug at his heart.  He knows he should answer her, knows he should call out and draw her to him, but the only sound he can force through his lips is a weak, breathy whimper.  His arms and legs refuse to obey his commands to move.  He feels weighted down, unnaturally heavy, unable to think clearly.

“You’re dying.  Just let it happen.”

The cold, cruel whisper comes from beside him, from somewhere just outside of his peripheral vision… but he doesn’t need to see to know who’s speaking to him.

“No,” he croaks, gasping at the pain the single word costs him.  The voice chuckles heartlessly.

”She’d be better off without you.  You know she would.”  He doesn’t dispute this, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to let her go.  Not this way, not by force.  ”It’s too late, anyway.  Feel how warm you are?  How sleepy?  That means the end is almost here.”  He knows this already.  He’s perfectly aware that the snow that’s blown into his lap should not feel like a comfortable quilt, that the wind on his face should feel like a sharp slap and not a gentle caress.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispers hoarsely.  “What do you want?”

”I want what was taken from me,” the voice hisses.  ”But you can’t give me that.  No one can.  So I’ll settle for your life, instead.”  The sinister laughter fills his ears again, and at the same time, he hears Scully’s voice, further off.  She’s moving away from him.

Mulder thinks of her face in the hospital, when she had come out of Emily’s room for the last time.  He remembers the dullness in her voice when she’d told him that it was over, the way she’d shied away from him when he’d tried to embrace her, how she’d simply asked him to please find her some information on local funeral homes while she went to call her mother.

He thinks of the pain in her face at the church, the anguish, the confusion of the empty coffin, the way she hadn’t been able to bring herself to put her cross back around her neck for well over a week.

He remembers her face when she’d come to his motel room at night, how she’d clung to him, how she hadn’t been able to meet his gaze as she’d mounted him, no matter how much he’d tried to get her to look him in the eye.  He remembers how badly he had wanted to help her to feel better any way that he possibly could.

If she wants to leave him, to save herself, to spare herself the heartache he seems powerless to stop visiting on her, she can leave.  But he will not leave her.  Not like this.  Not in a way that is guaranteed to bring her even more pain.

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The Great Dictator - Speech (1940)

“I’m sorry but I don’t want to be an Emperor – that’s not my business – I don’t want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible, Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another, human beings are like that.

We all want to live by each other’s happiness, not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone and the earth is rich and can provide for everyone.

The way of life can be free and beautiful.

But we have lost the way.

Greed has poisoned men’s souls – has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed.

We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in: machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little: More than machinery we need humanity; More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say “Do not despair”.

The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die [now] liberty will never perish…

Soldiers – don’t give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you and enslave you – who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you as cattle, as cannon fodder.

Don’t give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines. You are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don’t hate – only the unloved hate. Only the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers – don’t fight for slavery, fight for liberty.

In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written ” the kingdom of God is within man ” – not one man, nor a group of men – but in all men – in you, the people.

You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let’s use that power – let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They do not fulfil their promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfil that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men’s happiness.

Soldiers – in the name of democracy, let us all unite!”

apinkcreature  asked:

You will never be a woman, what you're doing is wrong, unnatural, disgusting and will never work. Accept that you can't change your gender and stop thinking that you can, cop on.

you really gon try to stunt on me while you lookin like this?

lmao, you are way too ugly to be tryna tell me how to live, ya nasty terf~! :>

Blood Relations Part 12

Originally posted by got7kings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 - Extra, Part 11 , Part 12, Part 13

A/N: after a long time away… I’m finally updating!!! So this part has a lot of shocking things happening in it prepare for smut and I can’t wait for you to read it!! I hope it’s worth your time!

Words: 6214

Pairing: Jaebum/Reader

Warning!: slight smut xD

Summary: another vision troubles your sleep, making you seek out for answers but not getting the ones you were expecting…

Previous Part: Part 11

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We're not all that different Pt 2

Young Sirius Black x Slytherin Reader

A/N: Sorry it took so long to write part 2 I had some major tests this week that required my attention.  If you like this part I’m thinking about writing part 3, but I’m not sure.  Please tell what you think and send requests!!!

Summary:  Sirius realizes his mistakes after an unfortunate argument.


    “What do you think she meant by that, Moony?”

    “What Pads?” Remus groaned.  Breakfast was happening in the Great Hall and y/n was still nowhere to be seen.  Sirius had been nagging the guys all night long about their “conversation” in the Astronomy Tower.

    “What did she mean by ‘someday you’ll realize that we’re not all that different’?” Sirius pondered.  “Was she talking about all Slytherins or specifically herself?”

    “Bloody hell, Padfoot!”  James groaned.  “Will you just shut it?  You’ve been whining all night about this.”

    “Well I just wanna know what she meant!”

    “Well she’s probably referring to you being the only Gryffindor in your family,”  Peter mumbled as he chewed on the pancakes stuffed in his mouth.

    “Excuse me?” Sirius said.

    “Well you know y/n’s the only Slytherin in her family.”

    “Where the hell did you hear that?!” James asked.  All three of the boys gaped at Peter.  How could this piece of information slipped past them so easily?

    “Y/n’s sister, s/n, told me,” he gossiped, “she’s a Ravenclaw, seventh year.”

    “You idiot,” Remus glared at Sirius. “You and Prongs torture her everyday and here you find out she’s as emotionally damaged as you.  I hope you’re happy.”

    “What are you going to do?” James asks.

    “Nothing I gue-”

    “No, no, no,” Remus interrupts. “You are certainly not going to do nothing.  For God’s sake you are going to apologize and so are you James.”

    “What the hell did I do?”

    “You encouraged him.  Now go get her.”  Remus gets up and grabs Peter by his shirt collar pulling him along with him.  He suddenly turns around and yells, “I’d expect you’ll find her in the Slytherin common room.  No backing out.”

    “We are not going to the Slytherin common room,” Sirius stated firmly.


    “Well here we are,” James sighed. “You know it does feel odd to be here.  Normally we’re trying to sneak in or prank the place, but this time we’re just here to use the door.”

    “I know it’s unnatural.”

    “Well good luck.”  James patted Sirius’s shoulder and made his way to the stairs.  Before James could even make it up the first step Sirius had grabbed his shirt and pulled him back down to the dungeons.

    “Where do you think you’re going, mate?” Sirius asked. “Moony said we both have to apologize.  Remember?”  James groaned and nodded as Sirius let go of his shirt.  They both cautiously approached the sneering portrait of Salazar Slytherin.

    “Ah a couple of blood traitor Gryffindors no doubt.  I could spot you a mile away, Black.  Not trying to sneak in here are you?”

    “I just need to see one of your Slytherins, Salazar.  Just quickly, no tricks.”

    “Regulus has already left, Black.  And if you’re looking for one of the females I don’t want any of your spawns running around.”

    “Is that a yes you’ll let us in or-”

    “Of course not you arrogant disappointment.”  James and Sirius shot each other and glance and lunged at the portrait shaking it and banging on it as hard as they possibly could.


Y/n had always had the tendency to sleep in and today was no exception especially considering last night’s argument.  She was lying in bed staring at the ceiling with dried tears staining her face.  She honestly didn’t know why she was so upset about this, Sirius and her had always had their spats, in fact it was a weekly occurrence, but this time was different.  She had tried to fight back, verbally, and had attempted to make him understand.  It’s not like she really cared about his opinion anyway.  Or had she?  Suddenly she felt so… unaware.  Had she always cared about his opinion?  If she did care it must just be because he’s Mr.Casanova.

All of a sudden she heard muffled shouts and rustling coming from one of the walls.  Y/n jumped out of bed wincing at the cold floor.  When she made it to the common room the mermaids were already at the glass windows pointing towards the pandemonium and waiting to see what was causing the commotion.  She followed the frantic noise all the way to the common room entrance.  The muffled shouts became much clearer as she walked near the portrait. When she got close enough to the portrait she noticed it shaking and that the muffled shouts were in fact two very familiar voices shouting her name.  She quickly attempted to fix her hair and wipe the dried tears off her face.  I look horrible, but he made me this way so he has to deal with it, she quickly decided.  She swiftly pushed open the portrait revealing the two boys making all of the racket.  They both put their hands in their pockets, as if they weren’t trying to just bust down the damn door and mumbled a morning as Salazar complained.  She looked at them, raising her eyebrows.

“Look lov- y/n we’d like to make some apologies,” Sirius professed.

“Um,” she started.  She didn’t know what to say.  Sirius Black doesn’t apologize to anyone, and James is no better.  Had she gotten to them?  Her eyebrows furrowed, never had she ever expected this outcome when she flat out told Sirius Black that he was a bully.  She might never get a chance like this again.  “Okay.  Come on in.”

The boys hesitantly made their way into the Slytherin Common Room.  Y/n lead the way down the hallway and to the couch in front of the fire.  She sat as Sirius and James gaped in awe of watching the mermaids swim by.  After, the mermaids had left while angrily glaring at Sirius and James for the racket, they stood in the middle of the room awkwardly waiting for someone to say something.

“Y/n I’m sorry,” James expressed.  “I didn’t realize…. no I realized.  Uh-I didn’t think about how teasing you would make you feel and yeah.”

“Oh, um.  Thanks.”

“And I won’t do it again,” James stated firmly.  “And if I ever slip up I’ll have Remus smack me.”

She giggled, “Okay?”  That was the first time Sirius had ever heard that noise come from her and he liked it.  He never thought anyone could understand how being the outcast of your own family could feel and here she was right in front of him and he hurt her.  Now, he hates himself for that.  James nodded and smiled as he made his way to the exit, arguing with Salazar on the way out.  Sirius still remained in his awkward stance in the middle of the room and looked down at her.  He didn’t know what to say or how to say it.  He had always been an open to conversation, he had it all the time, but this conversation was so delicate.  She motioned him to sit down and so he did.

“Y/n I don’t know how to have this conversation and-” Sirius sighed, “I’ve been the odd one out in my family, y/n.  And I didn’t know about your family and ya know…. I’m sorry.  My whole family is Slytherin, y/n, and they’re not exactly good people so-”

“Sirius, I don’t want you to explain something you don’t want to.  Thank you for thinking about me for once.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be thinking about you a lot more for now on,” he smirked.

“Oh so suddenly I’m all interesting.”

“You’ve always been interesting Y/n L/n,” Sirius smiled, “I’ve just been to dumb to see it.”

(Please send requests and if you want a Part 3 please leave a comment!)

fluffyblue-artnwriting  asked:

Aaah I'm so happy you're doing prompts! So, I'd like to request some Klance, with the opening "I'm sorry." (also please don't kill anyone?)

Haha never fear, I can, occasionally, do the fluff thing too :P (good to specify though lol). Hope you enjoy!!

           “I’m sorry.”

           Lance paused in the middle of stripping off his gloves, looking up to see Keith still in full Paladin armor, holding his helmet under his right arm and looking away awkwardly. He was flushed, whether from exertion or embarrassment Lance couldn’t tell, his hair drawn back in a ponytail with the loose strands plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat.

           “Um… for what?” Lance asked, pulling his gloves all the way off and stretching his fingers. “For whupping my ass in training? I know that can’t be it, you do that every day and always have a real smug look on your face about it.” He stripped his black spacesuit shirt off and reached for his regular t-shirt.

           “No,” Keith said. “I mean, I– I’m not smug– That’s not the point.” He took a deep breath. Lance looked over his shoulder curiously. “I’m sorry I yelled at you when we first met. Back at the Garrison, I mean.” His mouth twitched in discomfort. Lance stared at him, slowly setting down the spacesuit shirt half-folded. His brain spun its wheels in place.

           “So… you do remember me.” Keith went red.

           “I had to think about it. Well, I mean, I remembered you, I remembered I had seen you around, but I only the other day remembered that we’d actually had a conversation and… I was kind of an ass.”

           “I asked you if you knew the way to the simulator and you told me the simulator was a piece of junk and if I relied on it for practice I must not be able to take off without crashing.” Keith ran a hand across his forehead, shoving his bangs to the side where sweat held them stuck at an unnatural angle.

           “I had crashed the simulator the day before,” he admitted. “I was being stupid and not paying attention because it wasn’t a real flight so it didn’t really matter, and Iverson chewed me out for almost an hour. ‘I know you can do better than that, Cadet’ and all that. It was the first time I’d crashed anything since I was twelve.” Lance was quiet, Keith still avoiding his gaze, but something bubbled up inside him and suddenly he was laughing, bent over double, his stomach aching from the pressure after the workout he’d just had, but he couldn’t stop. Keith whipped his head around to look at him. “What– Why are you—?”

           “I’m sorry,” Lance gasped. “I’m sorry it’s just… The great Keith Kogane… And you crashed… In the simulator… Oh my God I need a minute…” He bent over again, laughing for another good ten seconds before he managed to take a deep breath and stand back up, wiping tears from his eyes. “I guess you’re human after all,” he said, grinning. Keith shifted his weight back and forth.

           “Well, I just… We got off on the wrong foot, and that was my fault.” It was clearly a rehearsed line. Lance waited patiently, hiccups of laughter still leaking through every few seconds. “So I wanted to apologize and, um, maybe we can, uh, start over?” He stuck out a hand. “I’m Keith Kogane. Hi.” Lance rolled his eyes and took Keith’s hand.

           “Lance McClain. Former cargo pilot, now the Blue Paladin of Voltron. Pleasure to meet you.” They stopped shaking, but Keith didn’t let go of his hand just yet.

           “I don’t know if there’s a flight simulator on this ship, but I’m pretty hungry after that training session so. Um. Want to get something to eat?” Lance was suddenly hyper aware of the pressure of Keith’s hand in his, the ever-present intensity of his stare, and he felt warmth creeping into his cheeks as he stuttered slightly.

           “Why, Keith, are you asking me on a date? That’s pretty forward, considering we just met.” Lance winked at him and felt his cheeks go even redder. Keith yanked his hand away.

           “No, I’m– I’m just– I’m…” Lance felt a stone drop into his stomach and knew it showed on his face. Keith paused, staring, cleared his throat, and started over.

           “If I was, what would you say?” Lance’s eyes went wide, and he smiled just a little uncertainly.

           “I’d say,” he reached out and took Keith’s hand again, “that forward is just my style.”

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It’s All Fun & Games (pt. 5)

( ‘till somebody loses their mind )

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Drabbles

Summary: In which you and Jungkook attempt to fake a relationship for revenge and end up with a lot more than either of you expected.
Genre: Angst/Fluff, Fake Dating!AU
Word Count: 3,466
Author’s Note: I worked on this story nonstop for 3 days, so it’s weird finishing it up. Thank you to everyone who loved reading this as much as I loved writing it. (Eck, I hope this ending is satisfying enough for you!) 


Jungkook takes the stairs up two at a time, the pounding of his sneakers against the steps the only sound echoing off the narrow walls of plaster. His backpack clumps awkwardly against his shoulder from his little hops, but he doesn’t care. He’s just finished up a 2 hour long study session with his professor and to say that he was exhausted beyond belief would be an understatement.

Pausing only momentarily to take a breath upon reaching the landing, Jungkook makes his way down the hallway. He’s been here enough times to know exactly how many steps it takes to reach Namjoon’s apartment, most of his movements done unconsciously now.

He readjusts the earphones in his ear as he fishes out the phone from his back pocket to stroll through music playlist, his feet moving on their own accord.

Jungkook doesn’t know how he knows exactly when he reaches Namjoon’s apartment (given that he doesn’t even remember the exact number corresponding to Namjoon’s living quarters), but he stops in front of a door.

He’s about to knock on the door before a movement flickering out of the corner of his eye catches his attention. He looks up from his phone and feels his heart drop and speed up at the same time at the sight of the figure approaching him.

You freeze just as he does from your own place, just a few feet from where he stands.

Keep reading

Anonymous asked:

So recently I’ve been wondering about swearing in books. I don’t know whether I should use it or not. Like I think it’s a good way to show the difference of class in a verbal way or I feel like it’s unnatural when teens in books never swear. But I’m still unsure if I should use any swear words even if it’s rarely. Why should or shouldn’t I include it in my book?

Here are some previous posts I’ve done on this topic:

Profanity in YA
Profanity in a Novel
Characters Have to Cuss

Ultimately, you have to consider what’s best for your audience and what you’re comfortable with. If your book is geared toward the younger end of the YA spectrum, maybe avoiding obscenities is for the best. If your book is geared toward the older end, a few here and there should be okay. 

Have a writing question? I’d love to hear from you! Please be sure to read my ask rules and master list first or your question will not be answered. :)

anonymous asked:

hey! first off, i love your acting posts, thank you for taking time to write those! one thing i'm super curious about is how much of what we see in skam is scripted and how much is improvised, so i was wondering, are there any scenes that stand out to you (particularly in season 3 but in the other two as well) as probably improvised? also, in your experience, how much is the body language between characters usually scripted/directed and how much is it left to the actors?

AH MAN ANON, this is such a good question. First off, thank you for the love! It may not seem like it but they usually take around 2-3  hours to write (intense rewatching is crucial) haha, so it’s nice to hear you like them! <3 

Now, onto your question. It’s pretty difficult to know for sure when there’s improvising involved. As a stage actress, improvising is a skill you really need to have because on stage you have no second chances: if you or someone else messes up, forgets a line, you have to fix it right then and there and come back around to the intended scene. As a television series, SKAM has the advantage of editing and reshooting so improvising lines is not necessarily needed. Usually scripts just say the lines and a bare minimum of the actions, so that the actors can fill it in themselves. However, the script Julie posted on New Year’s Eve is quite.. detailed in actions, I think (mentioning that Even pushes back Isak’s fringe, for example, is not something I’ve seen in scripts before. That’s usually up to the actors). But who knows whether that is comparable to the other scripts. However, filming does require pre-existing knowledge on how people are going to move around, so if you improvise you need to keep it within the camera frame.

What I think are noticeable improvised moments are usually the comedic ones; comedic acting requires a quick wit and impeccable timing. So you need to give that a bit of your flair and you need to surprise your actors, so that they’ll actually laugh instead of fake-laugh. And SKAM has some strong actors in that regard; Ina Svenningdal and David Sjoholt are stand outs for me. Which is why one of the moments that I think is truly improvised is when David suddenly hugs Henrik in ‘Dette er Even’. 

Henrik had his hand out already when he suddenly got hugged, and it seems like he’s cracking up here. Tarjei is also already moving on with the scene since he’s already getting his phone out of his pocket. It’s safe to say that it’s something David decided to do suddenly: and this kind of improvising is nice, since as a director you get surprised and sometimes it’s really the thing you needed to make a scene. The last few moments of the boy squad after that dancing chicks scene, where Magnus talks about his dream about Vilde, is I think another one that shows improvisation from all the guys since they genuinely seem to laugh. (and making your laughing seem genuine is hard as hell! I think a bit of Tarjei shines through when he cracks up so hard). Other moments might be in 2.10 and 5.10 when music (the message and i’m not in love) is playing over Isak and Even interacting; you just need some material to fill in those moments so what better way than just to film your actors doing some stuff and making each other laugh.

Body language is even harder to say; I think that there is a certain amount of directions on what to do. But since Julie writes and directs, she does have the opportunity to listen what the actors want to do with the scenes. And if certain things feel unnatural to how they would act, she probably would work with them to change things around. If, once again, you want your scenes to seem genuine, you need to have some faith in what your actors are doing with your material (I have personally had some horrible experiences with directors who did not want to listen to actors’ input and that creates a fairly unsafe environment for the actors. I certainly do not see Julie as being that kind of director, from what I’ve read about her).

Basically, it’s hard to know for sure. I could probably find some other moments, but I’ll leave you with these as this ask is getting rather long. I hope I’ve answered your question! If you have any other questions or a follow up question, please do not hesitate to ask! <3

I’ll do whatever you want- please don’t hurt her! – I apologize for my handwriting. Also these drawings are getting infinitely better! Thank you all for making requests and giving me the practice I needed.

Thanks for the request anon!!!! Also I couldn’t resist writing something for this…

Chat growled as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop. Where is that damn akuma! Adrien’s mind raced around in a frenzy. Where the hell could he have gone?! The akuma had taken Marinette and Adrien swore if he didn’t find her soon he might lose his mind. Adrien wasn’t quite sure what had happened. The boy who was akumatized he had something for Marinette and as far as Adrien could guess the feelings were not mutual. Whatever the details were Adrien still needed to find Marinette and the akuma before she got hurt and Ladybug was still no where to be found.

“Alya and I were just talking… Ah! It was nothing personal!” Chat’s ears quirked in the direction of Marinette’s voice. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he heard her pained words. Chat sprinted off in the direction of the akuma.

“Don’t lie to me! Do you love him? What does he have that I don’t have!” The akuma hissed.

“Nothing! We were just talking- Gah!” Marinette let out a choked cry cutting off her words.

“You’re lying! I heard you talking about him! I never had a chance did I! You were just pretending to be nice to me-leading me on!” The akuma shouted.

“No! I would never do that! You were my friend, I’m nice to all my friends. Listen just because I don’t feel the exact same way doesn’t- Urgh!” Marinette groaned.

“Shut up!” The akuma screamed. Chat could see them near the Seine.

The akuma’s name was Shadow King. He could control the shadows- bend them to his will. Which is why Marinette was currently being grappled by a large transparent hand. The dark shadow wrapped around her throat tightly enough to constrict breathing but not enough to stop it completely. Marinette stood on her tip toes, hands clawing at her throat. The thing about the Shadow King’s power was that he could choose what parts of the shadow became solid and what parts remained intangible.

“If I can’t love you, then no one else should be able to!” The akuma snarled.

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Monster - Breaking and Entering (Chanyeol pt.1)  [Chronicles of the Wolf]

Hello dears! After some thought I decided to post Chronicles of the Wolf here as well, as me and Joy are working on adding new parts soon.


I hope you enjoy were!exo! ♥


[ Chanyeol | A Monster ]
  \ breaking and entering

The worst way to wake up is fearing for your life.

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retrograde | 1

Originally posted by jengkook

◇ “I’m looking for a book…”

◇ Jungkook x reader

◇ fantasy!au

◇ 2 | 3


As a child, you had been quite lonely.

You were born in a small town, far away from the urban bustle of the cities that you had seen on TV. Your parents didn’t tend to let you mingle in with the other kids, either - and in your younger mind, you never cared, mainly because it meant your parents were always eager to keep you satisfied with TV and games.

You never really had any family, too. It was strange; you’d see these people on TV, with gigantic families that were there for each other through thick and thin. But you never had that, and any mention of family was quickly shut down by your parents. So you learned to stop asking.

On a seemingly random day, your parents decided to pack up and move to the nearest city there was. It was confusing, and weird and completely erratic, but there was nothing much you could do as you watched trees turn to buildings and crowded streets.

And by then, of course, you had to start school - imagine this: a small, little girl, standing in front of her two parents with wide, watery eyes and down turned lips as she gazes up at the vast building in front of her. She sees other kids like her, nonchalantly walking into the building like it was no big deal, and she can’t meet their eyes. She’s never experienced anything like this; she didn’t want to experience anything like this.

But just like everyone else, it had to be done. You pushed yourself to your limits to break out of your inexperienced shell and make friends. You chatted about your favourite movies and toys and you complimented the girls on their butterfly clips in their hair and you tried.

But no-one seemed to like you. You didn’t get it. You weren’t mean to anyone and you were fair and nice; how could people not like you?

You heard them one day, a few months after you’d started school. They weren’t trying to be quiet, and you don’t think they wanted to: “She’s weird. She gives me a bad feeling.

And that was that.

You didn’t try to make friends after that. There was no point: you were known as the class freak, even though you hadn’t done anything, and nobody wanted to play with you, so why bother?

Even with that mentality, Kim Taehyung still managed to want to be your friend. He joined your school when you were both ten, and immediately, he couldn’t leave you alone. The unexpected attention and the sheer joy of finally having someone like you made you a bit confused; but Taehyung was nice and he never played with the mean people in your class. And so, you were attached at the waist.

Fast forward almost 10 years; you’re nineteen years of age, fresh out of highschool and only into college, living at the dorms away from your parents and working in a tiny bookshop. Taehyung, as he usually did, followed your lead and managed to get himself an apartment near your college, and your friendship continued to thrive with every passing day.

You were finally content in life. You had made it. You had a job and an education and even though he wasn’t actually family, Taehyung was pretty darn close. You were ready to continue your life just as you had living it for the passed few years - normal, quiet, and completely mundane.

And of course, like always, the exact opposite happens.


The night shift. The bane of your existence, the reason why you groaned at the thought of going into work, the only reason you would quit your job.

It wasn’t that you were tired, no. You could be running on an hour of sleep and 6 cans of Monster, and you’d still show up for work. And it wasn’t the fact that 90% of the customers that entered the bookshop this late were weirdos who were confident that they were vampires, or the fact that it was always freezing cold. No - even they couldn’t compel you to hate the night shift. 

It was the fact that you were terribly afraid of the dark.

Now, don’t get get me wrong, you weren’t the type to be scared easily. Not at all. There was only a select few things that could scare you, and unfortunately, the dark was one of them. It sounds childish when you think about it, but it was simple - you just never grew out of your irrational childhood fear. 

You didn’t know what it was that made your heart speed up, what made your palms sweaty and your breath erratic. Maybe it was the way that the darkness spread, like a dark wave of ink sinking into the bright, paper sky. Maybe it was the way that the streets would turn unnaturally silent in a matter of seconds, despite the fact that you were in the heart of the city.

Working in the bookshop was one of the worst jobs that you could have during the night. You were surrounded by high shelves of dusty books - which you’d normally love - and the lights were dimmed, giving the shop a mellow, eerie glow. The shop was completely void of noise, and more often than not, people.

Although you’d usually love the quiet, being in the bookshop at night made for a creepy setting. It didn’t help that occasionally you would hear the rustling of pages - even though you were sure you were the only person in the store. You’d always chalk it up to imagination, but it never prevented you from being scared witless.

“Alright, _____, I’m leaving,” Mina called, removing her jacket from the coat rack in the back room, hidden behind bookcases upon bookcases of musty old books. She pulled her coat over her with a shiver, before moving to look at the night outside. “Be careful getting home, will you? The weather’s horrible.”

And it was. The drops of water were pounding against the glass of the windows, and you were sure you had heard some thunder earlier. It wouldn’t surprise you if you got lightning tonight. You surely wouldn’t mind the lightning, because luckily, it wasn’t something you were afraid of.

“I will, Mina,” you reassured her, putting the last book on the shelf. You almost want to beg her to stay, peering at the dark weather outside in the equally as dark night. “Be careful yourself, okay?” 

Mina gives you a smile as she shoves her hat onto her long, brown hair, before she was calling out a final, “Goodbye!”, and had walked out into the torrential weather. Then, in the blink of an eye, seemingly, you were left alone.

Inhaling deeply, you close your eyes for a minute to calm yourself down. You peek one eye open, sneaking a glance at the clock that was just above your head. 9:10. Due to the fact that it was winter, it was a lot darker than usual. You had 50 minutes left until you could leave - 50 more minutes spent slaving away in the dark, alone.

At least nobody in their right mind would come to a bookshop in this weather.

Heaving a great sigh, you skirted around the bookshelves until you came to the cart that was piled high with books that needed to be recorded into the inventory. You bit your lip. Something tells you that it was going to be a long 50 minutes.


Romeo and Juliet. You scoffed at the book, shoving it into it’s place on the bookshelf after writing down it’s name and number. Why would somebody willingly read that? It was a piece of literary significance, yes, but it was also just plain stupid

“I can’t believe I actually had to read that trash before,” you grumble to yourself, slotting it in its designated place on the shelf. Normally you wouldn’t be so harsh - especially about a book - but you were on the brink of dying from hypothermia, it was dark outside, and you still had 10 minutes until you could leave.

Nobody had entered the shop at all, like you had expected, so it had just been you for the whole 50 minutes, writing down the names, numbers and prices of the books and then putting them onto their respective shelves.

A tinkling sound crashes through the silent air like an air horn. Head shooting up, you freeze, turning your ear towards the doors direction to hear any movement in the shop. The bell had rung - which obviously meant that somebody had entered - but who would visit a bookshop at 9:50, amidst the pouring rain, thunder and lightning?

You set down yet another book that you had been glaring judgementally at and begin to walk from the back of the store towards the till, where you would usually be if there were any customers.

You turn around the corner of a bookshelf on the small way back, still looking around anxiously to see who had entered the bookstore. Eyebrows furrowing in tension, you gingerly step forward, looking between the bookshelves.

You had been sure the bell had rung. Maybe it was just the sound of outside. It was pretty loud-

“Excuse me?” 

You barely had time to gasp before you turned around, coming face to face with a man. He had smooth, pale skin, large, dark eyes framed by long eyelashes, paired with a strong jawline. His appearance was strangely caught between boyish and manly, and you find yourself taking a step away from him, your heart close to exploding in your chest.

“Oh, sorry,” you breathed, running a hand over your hair in an attempt to calm down your heart that was racing like a horse. Fear is still pumping through your veins, but you force yourself to remain civilised, a weak smile painting itself over your face. “What was it you needed?”

The man smiles, revealing a bright - but unsettling - expression that makes you gulp. He brings a hand up to his chin, narrowing his eyes in thought. “I’m looking for a book…”


Everything hits you at once - you regain control of your limbs, your hearing and your sense of smell, and with tiredness weighing down your eyelids, your eyes barely manage to flutter open to meet the blank canvas of your ceiling.

As your sleepy mind quickly wakes, you find your eyebrows furrow automatically as you take in your familiar surroundings - the dark blue bed sheets, the white walls… You were home - but… but how did you get here? 

The last thing you remembered was shelving the new delivery of books. It was dark, you were alone… There was a storm, you could vaguely remember that. And then… there was a man. He was the last person you had saw. You were sure of it. What had he done to you?

Your heart rate is propelling as you try to remember anything after that. Nothing - it’s all blank, as if you skipped a whole scene of a movie and cut straight to the next one.

Strangely, you don’t think he had done anything to you, you realise as your sight clears even more. You wriggle around in your bed, peering down at your skin to see if there was any damage - but no. You weren’t sore, or hurt anywhere - except for the pounding headache you had. 

You sit up gingerly, trying not to upset your headache any more than you needed to, hand coming up to cup your forehead. Your tired, irritated eyes catch something shiny on your wrist immediately in the dull, morning light.

You still. You don’t remember owning any bracelet that looked like that.

Confusion settling into your fatigued body, you looked closer at the bracelet - it’s gold, a simple chain with a small tag on it, and it seems to fit your wrist perfectly. You finger the small, oval tag, trying to see the letters that have been gently engraved into the gold in beautiful calligraphy.

J. J.


Day 23

Imagine Being The First Dread Doctor’s Experiment To Survive

For My Followers

“Scott what if we can’t beat them? They’re so strong!” Malia exclaims. The pack and Theo are gathered in Scott’s living room to discuss going after the Dread Doctors.

“We have to try,” Scott counters.

“They can’t be beaten,” Liam argues.

You’re sitting quietly and trying to hold in memories of your past.

“We have to stop them!” Scott yells.

“What if we die trying? What if we die like Tracy, Josh, and Corey? What then Scott?” Stiles snaps.

“Stiles that’s the point they’re killing people and they won’t stop. We have to do something,” Scott retorts and clenches his fists. He’s dead set on going after him and nothing they can say will stop him.

“Scott,” you say and stand up. He looks at you and frowns. “I-”

“(Y/N) don’t try and convince me we should just let them kill people! Why do you think what you’ll say will mean anything different?”


The room goes silent and everyone stares. Theo is gaping at you.

“You’ve always wondered why I never said anything about my past well this is why. Before the Dread Doctors became what they are now, they didn’t have all the masks and suits and they didn’t screw memories either. They killed my whole family and for some reason I lived. They tortured me for a year trying to force supernatural abilities on me in every unnatural way. Scott we can’t face them head on, we won’t win, we can’t.”

During your admission tears started pouring down your cheeks.

“But we can’t just let them win,” Scott whispers and you shake your head.

“I said we can’t face them head on, not that we shouldn’t fight. Scott we have to be smart, we can’t charge them in blind rage.”

Scott inhales deeply and lets himself fall back into his couch.

“Alright (Y/N) we will strategize.”

“Thank you.”

Sitting back down you take a few deep breaths and wipe the tears from your eyes.

“Is no one going to say anything about that?” Malia blurts out. “(Y/N) that’s awful and I’m really sorry it happened.” Malia comes over and hugs you tightly. “I won’t let that happen again.”

“Me neither,” Lydia promises and joins the hug. One by one your pack closes in and surrounds you with love.

In the background Theo is scowling, you should be dead.

anonymous asked:

I'm bi and I have no idea how to go out in front of my parents. They are not homophobes but they think it's unnatural and that it's just a phase...Do you have any idea how should I come out? Thanks

I. Am. Closeted. Myself. *cries*

No idea babe. No idea. If you find a way to tell them. Please share with me.

Lonely Roads We Walk

The motel room was cold and stuffy, but it was a someplace; a place where she could breathe, a place where she could think, where she could sleep. The outside world had become exhausting and heated and unforgiving—and their battle seemed never ending. An unyielding fight on both sides.

Nancy was curled up on the dingy little sofa, her journal spread open across her lap. The words, written in looping cursive, seemed to blur together in smudges of black ink. Her mind spun.

Today was a bad day.

We got pretty beat up. Steve fell, put the weight on his right leg. Now it’s bruised. Jonathan is worried sick. I called home and no one picked up.

The power went out.


She couldn’t bear to write any more. Even the effort to get down that was strenuous. Locking her jaw in defeat, Nancy capped her pen and stuffed her journal in the duffel bag at her feet.

Jonathan looked up from the log, where he was sketching the monster they’d seen today (something she didn’t want to see ever again; Nancy tried to avoid looking in that damn book as it was). “Are you okay?”

“No,” she whispered, wiping her tired eyes. From the radio on the nightstand, David Bowie played softly. “Put the book away, please.”


“Jon,” her voice was strained from screaming, “please.

He locked eyes with her, and she felt the warmth there. She felt the trust. But she also felt a disquiet—one which made her both nervous and envious. “Okay,” he relented, at last. Carefully he folded up the leather bound book and buried it under piles of clothes in his own bag.

Nancy walked over to him, wanting nothing more than to collapse in his arms; to stay there until there was no more time left in the world. But she couldn’t. And so she held out her hand. “Dance with me?”

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anonymous asked:

I love your work. If you don't mind me asking, why do you ship sans and frisk? I love the ship, I'm just curious

Thank you so much, we’re happy you like the story! 

As for fra/ns, we just think they’re cute together and this ship has great potential if developed in the right way! We’re trying to write Sans and Frisk’s story so that their feelings for each other won’t seem forced/unnatural and we hope we’ll be up to the job.