to be on the safe side

160829 - Twitter - Daehyun

@BAP_Daehyun: 오늘와줘서 너무너무 고맙고 한편으론 미안하고. 정말 사랑합니다 ㅎㅎ  긴시간동안 우리외롭지않게 곁에있어줘서 너무 감동이었고 힘이됬어요. 좋은결과는비록없었지만 여러분과의 추억이하나더생겼기때문에 더할나위없이 행복합니다! 또한번 고맙고 사랑해요❤

Thank you so so much for coming today and I’m also sorry. I really love you hehe(.) It was touching and was a source of strength that you were by our side for such long hours so that we were not lonely. Although there weren’t good results(,) I’m undoubtedly happy that we have another good memory with you all! Once again thank you and I love you❤

@BAP_Daehyun: 확실한건. 여러분때문에,위해서 다리가힘이풀려서 주저앉을만큼 뛰었어요. 알아주도록 ㅎㅎ 조심히가~!👋🏻💪🏻👋🏻

One thing’s for certain. Because of all of you and for all of you, we ran till our legs almost gave out. Just so you know hehe go back safely~!!👋🏻💪🏻👋🏻

trans by transforbap ; take out with full credit.

160829 - Daehyun - Twitter

@BAP_Daehyun: 오늘와줘서 너무너무 고맙고 한편으론 미안하고. 정말 사랑합니다 ㅎㅎ  긴시간동안 우리외롭지않게 곁에있어줘서 너무 감동이었고 힘이됬어요. 좋은결과는비록없었지만 여러분과의 추억이하나더생겼기때문에 더할나위없이 행복합니다! 또한번 고맙고 사랑해요❤

Thank you so so much for coming today and I’m also sorry. I really love you hehe It was impreensive and a source of strength that you stood by our side for such a long time so we wouldn’t feel lonely. Even if there weren’t good results I’m supremely happy because we have more great memories with you! Once again thank you and I love you❤

@BAP_Daehyun: 확실한건. 여러분때문에,위해서 다리가힘이풀려서 주저앉을만큼 뛰었어요. 알아주도록 ㅎㅎ 조심히가~!👋🏻💪🏻👋🏻

One thing is for sure. Because and for all of you, we ran until our legs almost gave up. Just letting you know hehe go back safely~!👋🏻💪🏻👋🏻

trans cr nana @ fydaehyun ; take out with credit

TATTLE CRIME EXCLUSIVE: LECTER’S LEWD PAST

Will scoffed, tablet in hand, hating himself for checking this ridiculous site every morning. It was at least eighty five percent bullshit about them most of the time, but that pesky fifteen percent kept them safe so he would continue.

He clicked on the link and stared, peering closely at the images in front of him.

Hannibal, shirtless and sometimes completely nude, posed in a variety of ways: on his back, side, and stomach. There were even some with partners. Will felt his anger rising at them all, hating Freddie Lounds and her photoshopped fakery.

He threw the tablet down just as Hannibal entered the study.

“I take it we were mentioned in your morning reading?”

Will’s hands tightened into fists as he growled, “She photoshopped you onto some bullshit photo shoot that you’re…”

Hannibal paused at the desk, grabbing the pad and looking down at it with a smile. “I have fond memories of this. Giurmo was a very spectacular photographer and I…“

Will stood up abruptly, grabbing it from him before sitting down again. “They’re real? You,” he mumbled as he scrolled, “You posed for this on purpose?”

He couldn’t look away now that he knew the pictures were real. Will felt a stab of jealousy for Hannibal’s partners in some and even thinking of this Giurmo.

Hannibal had come around the desk as Will was lost in staring, leaning against it as he spoke. “It was a learning experience and I was paid well.”

Will swallowed, licking his lips as he looked up at Hannibal. “You liked it? Taking the pictures?”

Hannibal smirked. “It was nearly twenty years ago but yes, I enjoyed my body being viewed as something beautiful,” he laid his hand over Will’s and felt a shiver as their fingers touched on the tablet, making the picture zoom in just a fraction.

Will breathed, “It’s still beautiful,” he dropped the tablet and turned the chair around completely, “You’re still beautiful.”

Continued on ao3: Still Beautiful by nightliferogue

#DailyLines #GoTellTheBeesThatIAmGone #BookNine #NoIdontknowhenitwillbeout #ProbablysixweeksafterIfinishwritingit #BriannaAndFanny #Rootcellar

The root cellar wasn’t a long walk from the smokeshed, but it was on the other side of the big clearing, and the wind, unobstructed by trees or buildings, rushed them from behind, blowing their skirts out before them and whipping Fanny’s cap off her head.

Brianna got a hand up and snatched the scrap of muslin as it whirled past. Her own hair, unbound, was flailing round her face, and so was Fanny’s. They looked at each other, half-blinded, and laughed. Then the first drops of rain began to fall, and they ran, gasping and shrieking for the shelter of the root cellar.

It was dug into the side of a hill, a rough wooden door framed in with stacked stone. The door stuck in its jamb, but Bree freed it with a mighty wrench and they fell inside, damp-spotted but safe from the downpour that now commenced outside.

“Here.” Still breathless, Brianna gave the cap to Fanny. “I don’t think it’ll keep the rain out, though.”

Fanny shook her head, sneezed, giggled, and sneezed again.

“Where’s yours?” she asked, sniffing as she tucked her windblown curls back under the cap.

“I don’t like caps much,” Bree said, and smiled when Fanny blinked. “But I might wear one for cooking or doing something splashy. I wear a slouch hat for hunting, sometimes, but otherwise, I just tie my hair back like the men do.”

“Oh,” Fanny said uncertainly. “I gueth—guess that’s why Mrs. Fraser—your mother, I mean—why she doesn’t wear them either?”

“Well, it’s a little different with Mama,” Bree said, running her fingers through her own long red hair to untangle it. “It’s part of her war with—“ she paused for a moment, wondering how much to say, but after all, if Fanny was now part of the family, she’d learn such things sooner or later. “—with people who think they have a right to tell her how to do things.”

Fanny’s eyes went round.

“Don’t they?”

“I’d like to see anybody try,” Bree said dryly, and having twisted her hair into an untidy bun, turned to survey the contents of the cellar.

You’re My Safe Place [Quinnshot Fanfic]

Her head was throbbing. That was usually a side effect of having it bashed into the floor. Her vision was blurry as she dragged herself to her feet, able to feel the wet, metallic-smelling blood on her scalp, staining her blonde hair grotesquely. He had stormed out of the room, anger radiating off of him in thick waves. The only color her mind could register was his bright, insanely green hair. Though the last hour was a blur, she could distinctly remember her panic as the door creaked open. It was bad enough she was disturbing him while he was working, and on top of that, bringing him bad news, but he had always hated incompetence.

Earlier, two of his best men had been brought into the police department, and one of them had been killed during his arrest. Harley had been responsible. She had forgotten the safety. The safety on her gun had been on, and the shot hadn’t fired when it should’ve. The memory of J pinning her to a wall, his cold fingers wrapped around her throat sent chills down her spine. His voice had been so cold and inhuman, as if he had never felt a thing in his life.

“Babygirl, oh…. Nononono, you knowww what you did wrong.”

Harley’s face would have paled further from her lack of oxygen if it could. His tattooed knuckles held her neck as if killing her was his life’s ambition. When she didn’t answer him, his other fist connected with her stomach, beating the air out of her lungs with a single strike. He released her, letting her fall limply to the floor. Kneeling beside his rasping counterpart, the Joker had reached down, gently running his fingers through her soft hair. Grabbing a fistful of it, he had lifted her head off of the floor by her scalp, forcing her to look at him.

“A clip, darling? A cLIP?!”

Shoving his fist down, he slammed her head against the floor. She had lost consciousness for about half a minute before groggily lifting her aching head. He had left the door open when he left, allowing her a view of him disappearing down the hallway, slamming the door to their bedroom behind him. She had curled up into a ball, sobbing as she held the side of her tender head. Laying like this for nearly ten minutes, Harley eventually forced herself to stand up, the blood from her head matting in her hair. She also had a split lip, but she could barely feel the pain over the ringing in her head. Harley wasn’t a very popular person in Gotham, having achieved her Fame by association with the Joker. Ivy wasn’t in town, and Harvey was sympathetic to the Joker, not Harley herself.

She wouldn’t have gone if she had any other options. Struggling down the steps to the lower landing, Harley slid outside, into the pouring rain. Despite the fact that it would probably anger him more, she knew where the Joker kept the keys to his Lamborghini. After climbing into the car, Harley started the engine and brought up the address she had been given, but never had the balls to visit. After only a fifteen-minute drive through the fog and rain, Harley found herself stumbling out of the expensive purple car. The lights weren’t on, which shattered her hopes. She didn’t know what kind of schedule a hit-man had. Staggering up the concrete steps to the front door of the flat, the soaking wet woman leaned against the front wall, her palm on the cold wood of the door. Gently patting it, she hesitantly gave it a hard rap with her knuckles. Waiting a few minutes, Harley sunk onto the ground, happy at least to be covered from the rain. He’s not home.

She curled up, her arms over her face as she sobbed. The simple black tank-top and white pajama shorts she wore did virtually nothing to protect her from the cold. Leaning against the deck railing, Harley rubbed her eyes furiously, feeling dizziness begin to invade her mind again, despite the fact that she was sitting down. Her eyes closed slowly, her vision beginning to blur, even though it was already dark as hell, save the light from a few dim street lamps. Losing consciousness, Harley didn’t hear, see, or feel it when the porch lights turned on, the front door being unlocked and opened. Nothing happened for a moment as the man in the doorway glanced around momentarily before his eyes settled on the small figure of the unconscious woman.

With only a second’s hesitation, he bent down, scooping her soaked form up into his strong arms. Turning around, he carefully carried her into the flat, closing the door with his heel. When she woke up, Harley found herself laying in a beige bed, multiple blankets tucked up around her. She wasn’t wearing her soaked clothes anymore, instead able to feel a pair of comfortable, fuzzy pajamas beneath the many layers of blankets. She tried to sit up, but two firm hands gently held her down.

“Don’t sit up, you’ll get headrush.”

She recognized that voice. She hadn’t heard it in years, being too cowardly to visit him again since they had been released. Looking up was difficult, and she could feel the bandages wrapped around her head. Couldn’t have been attractive, but he seemed less interested in that and more concerned. Floyd Lawton. The face she’d never forget, despite her own rarely surfacing conscience telling her she should.

“Floyd… i-it’s you.”

“You surprised? Who did you think would answer when you knocked on my door?”

“I dunno, Marylin Manson?”

He chuckled softly from where he sat on the side of the bed. It must’ve been his, unless he had a guest room.

“Haven’t seen you in years, Quinn.”

“I missed you.”

“Yeah.”

His curt response left her a little concerned, resulting in Harley sitting up and looking downwards at what she was wearing.

“Unless you wear women’s pajamas now, can I ask whose these are?”

“My wife left some of her clothes here. Always wantin’ me to clean up her shit.”

Harley was silenced by this, and she sunk back into the pillows, looking around. Her lip was aching where it had been slit. If she opened her mouth too wide, it would probably break again.

“What happened to you, Harley? I found you on my porch, half-conscious while you bled out. You could’ve died. You have a concussion.”

Inwardly, Harley groaned. Outwardly, she sighed, turning her head to look away from him, tears filling her eyes again. She tried to force them down, burning beneath her eyelids. Her lower lip trembling, Harley suddenly burst out crying. Floyd had only ever seen Harley cry, which had been after the helicopter crash. That was because she had thought her green-haired friend was dead. Turns out, he wasn’t. And he wouldn’t be surprised if he was the reason behind her injuries.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Harley, if he hurt you..”

“He didn’t.”

“You’ve always been a bad liar.”

“Floyd, please… I don’t want to talk about it.”

He relented, his eyes scanning her pale, beautiful face before falling to his hands. He reached towards her, and she reeled back, scooting away from him a bit on the bed. Floyd withdrew his hand, sighing as he set it on his leg.

“Do you need somewhere to spend the night? This is my room, but I can stay on the couch. Zoe’s asleep right now.”

“You shouldn’t have to stay on the co-”

“Harley, if you need somewhere to stay, you’re staying in a bed.”

His words were sharp, but they didn’t scathe her like Joker’s usually did. She nodded tiredly, trying to think of a way to compromise. When none came to mind (that he would accept), Harley gave up, sinking back into the pillows again.

“I’m gonna get a pillow and a blanket and go back to sleep. You okay, dollface?”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you… for helping me.”

“Yeah.”

He grabbed one of the pillows from the bed, holding it in one hand while he walked to the closet, dragging out a grey blanket from a bin there. He left the room, nudging it mostly closed behind him. After a few minutes, he came back and turned off the light in the bedroom. Harley rolled onto the side that wouldn’t hurt her injured head, sighing softly and closing her eyes, trying to sleep. It only took her a few minutes to realize she wouldn’t be able to. Sliding her legs off the side of the bed, Harley stood up on two shaky legs. Snatching up the pillow she had been using, she stripped the bed of it’s top blanket, walking to the door. It was slightly open, just as the one to Joker’s office had been earlier. She whimpered softly, cringing as she reached for the door handle, begging it wouldn’t creak.

It was well cared for, and the oiled joints didn’t make even the slightest sound. Sighing in relief, Harley dragged the blanket and pillow through the flat, towards the couch. She could see his form there, and whether or not he was sleeping was unknown to her. Walking in front of the couch, she set down the pillow a few feet away on the carpet. Laying down, she pulled the blanket over her, nuzzling into the pillow. One of his hands was hanging haphazardly off the side of the couch, his knuckles barely touching the carpet below. Scooting a little closer, Harley reached out, gently taking his hand in hers. Closing her eyes again, she swore she could feel his hand squeeze hers gently.

He must’ve been half awake, because it took him a few moments to realize she had moved into the livingroom, and that her holding his hand wasn’t a dream. She was still awake, and he figured it would be worth bugging her one last time. Reaching for the lamp with his free hand, he turned it on, the room lighting up. He stood from the couch, leaning down and peeling her small figure off the floor and into his arms, blanket and all. Turning around, he walked her back to the bedroom, laying her on the bed and pulling the other blankets up around her.

“Stay.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Her words made his heart ache a little. It pretty much proved his theory about Joker being behind her injuries. He hesitated for a full ten seconds before nodding and disappearing through the door again. Harley sat up, her back cushioned by the pillows between her spine and the headboard. She could vaguely see him gathering up his pillow and hers, along with his blanket before returning to the bedroom. After setting up, he exited again only to turn off the living room lamp.

Trodding to the bed, he closed the door behind him and yawned into the back of his hand. The clock beside his bed read “2:48 AM”. He didn’t have anywhere to be the next day. Floyd told himself this was the reason he wasn’t upset about her showing up at his home in the middle of the night. The reality was he had been thinking about the clown every other day since he had last seen her. Not in an obsessive, creepy way. More like the way you think about someone who lives across the world from you, wishing you knew how they were doing or wanting to see them.

Floyd lifted the blankets and crawled in, making sure to lay on the edge so as to give her room. Harley didn’t accept this, though, rolling over in the dark to grab one of his arms. He rolled onto his back, his head turning towards her in the dark. The woman had wrapped her arms around one of his, her face nuzzled into his bare shoulder. She was already asleep. Damned woman had fallen asleep on his arm. He tried to tell himself he was uncomfortable, and that it wasn’t right. But he soon found himself drifting off as well, his eyes closing as troubled peace fogged his mind.

|| Will definitely be more chapters in the future. Reviews are cookies! <3 I’d love to hear what you guys think. ||

A Message

Please, leave Vicky alone.

Listen, sending mindless hate and insults to Vicky is just flat out disgusting and makes you no better than what you claim them to be. Vicky did nothing wrong. Vicky did not make Bones leave; Bones made that choice, Vicky did not force them to make that choice. 

Vicky recognized, among many others, toxic and abusive behaviour that needed to be dealt with. They were trying to do something good for Bones. Maybe Bones had never realized how much they’d hurt people, how badly they have affected other people around them and Vicky was trying to help them realize that. Vicky was trying to get Bones to see how they could make their situation with “hate blogs” better. Maybe Bones has gotten better from their earlier years and made up for past mistakes and tried to apologies through different ways, but people were/are still hurting and want to feel safe.

I’m not on a “side.” I’m a neutral party.

I see all of you insulting and being hateful towards Vicky.

What the fuck did Vicky do to you.

These mods have done nothing but been respectful, courteous, and downright amazing people. They’ve never misgendered Bones. They’ve never tried to hurt Bones. They’ve never, not even once, made a false accusation toward Bones or their friends.

Hell, these mods have even shut down their own followers for trying to be hateful and rude. They’ve corrected people on misgendering Bones. They’ve asked people not to bring certain people into the issue because they didn’t want to pull in any unnecessary drama. They didn’t want to hurt anyone.

And in some case, guess who also never wanted to hurt anyone and was trying to do good things?

Bones.

I was even a mod for a support blog for the toxicity surrounding Bones. Bones has hurt people. Maybe they didn’t mean to, but they did. And these mods were trying to help them see that.

“Mod Kaspar” signing to the fuck out. Vicky does not deserve this. No one deserves this.

I hope you feel better soon, Vicky..

nypost.com
Cops post FLIERS asking J’Ouvert revelers not to shoot anyone
The NYPD has a message for revelers taking part in Brooklyn’s J’Ouvert festival next weekend: Don’t shoot. The 71st Precinct in Crown Heights posted fliers Thursday warning festival-goers to refrai…

“This community will no longer tolerate this violence,” the fliers say. “Do not shoot anyone. Do not stab anyone. Every act of violence will be fully investigated and prosecuted. This year celebrate J’Ouvert and keep it safe.”

LOL. This is pretty much how effective gun control is. Begging criminals not to commit any crime. 

The side effect of disarming law abiding citizens from their right to defend themselves is not a big deal to liberals. 

Originally posted by n-hormones

This is me. Literally me. No other character can come close to relating to me like this. There is no way you can convince me this is not me. This character could not possibly be anymore me. It’s me, and nobody can convince me otherwise. If anyone approached me on the topic of this not possibly being me, then I immediately shut them down with overwhelming evidence that this character is me. This character is me, it is indisputable. Why anyone would try to argue that this character is not me is beyond me. If you held two pictures of me and this character side by side, you’d see no difference. I can safely look at this character every day and say “Yup, that’s me”. I can practically see this character every time I look at myself in the mirror. I go outside and people stop me to comment how similar I look and act to this character. I chuckle softly as I’m assured everyday this character is me in every way. I can smile each time I get out of bed every morning knowing that I’ve found my identity with this character and I know my place in this world. It’s really quite funny how similar this character is to me, it’s almost like we’re identical twins. When I first saw this character, I had an existential crisis. What if this character was the real me and I was the fictional being. What if this character actual became aware of my existence? Did this character have the ability to become self aware itself?

anonymous asked:

lance scenario where he rescued his(eventual) s/o from the galra who's immediate reaction is to flirt w him??

So apparently I’m an expert flirter (according to my friends), but I can’t write it at all.


Sentries were the only ones who ever open the door to your Galra prison cell. So when you saw Lance’s face on the other side of that door, you couldn’t help but launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his lean form.

“Thank god, I’m so glad to see you’re safe,” Lance murmured as he held you tight in his arms.

“I suppose it’s pretty good to see you too, Love Boy.” You pulled back and smirked when you saw the confused look on Lance’s face.

“I just rescued you from a Galra prison, and that’s all you have to say.”

You chuckled and winked, taking a few steps towards the exit. “We’re still in the Galra prison. You haven’t rescued anyone yet.”

Lance sent you a mock glare. “I am so going to get you for that.”

“You’ll have to catch me first Lover Boy!”

You ran off ahead of him, knowing he had probably taken out all the guards when he had been searching for you. You could hear Lance yelling behind you, his feet pounding against the metal floor. A laugh left you mouth as you continued running.

“Thank you Lance.”

I I ever fall in love

If I ever say I do,

if I’m ever bought a toaster,

I will build a household

made of bricks around it.

But we won’t have a “home”,

no, we’ll build a “safe house.”

So if my lover ever tries to hide from the world,

I’ll always be there waiting with apple pie.

And we’ll play games in the backyard – forever –

like hide-and-go-seek,

that way he has to count to infinity

before he goes out looking for trouble.

This place will remind us that life changes,

daily, without warning.

It will try to lead you a million different ways at once

and every one might be the wrong path.

But finding yourself on the wrong side of the tracks

is the best way to see

what’s waiting on the other side.

People lose their way.

We get lost, and sometimes

the words or a compass can’t quite be read.

If he finds himself reading a map

of Jabberwocky upside-down

or caught between a Bandersnatch

and a hard place, I’ll stand at his side

to remind him that everything will be ok

if we stop to take a look in the mirror.

But, too, that a mirror will never be big enough

to fit all the demons in a horror story.

And I’ll tell him, “our vanity above the bathroom sink

simply missed out on becoming a telescope.

So, don’t stare too hard or look too far.”

I’ll tell him, “don’t forget I only have two hands,

two arms, but my hugs have four walls,

and you are the one with the spare key.”

And remember how you came here.

When we almost drowned looking for the fountain of youth,

we caught a glimpse of a fallen tower in Atlantis

that pointed to the skyline

over easy street and limbo.

Just at the end of the lane sat a poorhouse

in our hometown that had burned to the ground

time and time again.

But each time a phoenix was born,

and you followed them and their fireworks,

every last one leaving you

just as black and covered in soot.

Until we followed the same one,

soaring on a second wind,

that became the weather vane

atop our inflammable house. 

2

Lex talionis ❖ Arena Event ❖ August 25 - August 29 (inclusive)

Stimulus ― August 29th

F L O O D

Citizens foolishly think the end is near and that the Arena has nothing else in store for them - they are right about the first… But as everyone tries to patch their wounds and count their deaths or saves, suddenly, the earth shakes and soon, geysers of water start to burst through the ground and the water level rises quickly, too quickly. Some seek cover in the trees, others try to find something that will keep them above the water, but none are truly prepared for what is about to happen.

From afar, the water is coming, it’s a tsunami from all sides toward the middle, there’s no place to run or hide. But you can pray, citizens, that if you survive, what lies in the water won’t attack you…

  • The waters have risen and not even the Safe Haven is spared. All you can hope for is that you will survive when the first wave hits and won’t be drowned.
  • Wood’s floating around, hold on to whatever you can.
  • Victims are easy to find, pushing someone’s head under the water when they can’t swim is so much simpler, but you’ve become prey too, for beneath the surface, creatures that are in their element have been released; sharks, anacondas, killer whales, and many others.

So Juvia will survive somehow and comes back to Gray (I mean its Fairy Tail -> Trollshima) and Gray will be so happy about it and then it’s Gray who never leaves Juvias side, because he always has to make sure that she is here. That this is True. That this is not a dream. That she won’t vanish any minute. That she is here with him, safe and sound. And because he finaly realized how precious their time together is.

“Alexandria Safe Zone: A different life” Chapter 10. Still a badass, always a fighter.

- What the hell, Carol?? I told you to not leave my side! You’re fucking drunk!- he shouted at her while he saw her on the top of the watch tower shooting at the walkers.

- I just saved your life asshole!!!!- she shouted at him and she said something else but he couldn’t hear her.

Everything was so fucked up, hell of a night. When he left the house with Carol by his side, Alexandria was in shock. Someone has let a herd of walkers in, like 30 or 40 walkers. And he was so worried that there were wolves between them, maybe it was a trap. 

He got separated from her and he’s been looking for her for half an hour, asking everyone for her  while he killed every fucking walker. He was so fucking worried..  and there she was, shooting and shouting like a fucking rambo. 

He was so stupid for worrying.. but he would prefer she stays next to him, not so far away from him.

- Move your ass and come here woman!!! I need you here!!- he shouted

It was true, a lot of walkers have come to him because of his shouting and he didn’t want her to be so far away so…He heard a strange noise and he looked at the tower

- What the fuck?????- he shouted

She has decided that the best way to go to him was to descend from the tower with a rope. Then he noticed that the door was plagued by walkers and he saw that she didn’t have a choice. God… he was starting to feel all the alcohol and he wanted to throw up. To see her there.. she could die falling or eaten by a walker.. and he was imagining a few hours ago that he wanted to have a kid with her. Shit.

- Go,Carol!!!!- shouted Tara from one of the other roofs while shooting

Carol was already on the ground, shooting and stabbing walkers like she’s been born to to that. What a woman. He was so fucking proud of her. 

- Daryl!!!!- She shouted at him and he ran to her to help her, there were more and more walkers in their spot. There were too many.

- Fuck, fuck.. there are too many- he said stabbing another one

- Who let them in???- she growled and he could swear he has never seen her more  beautiful than now. A warrior, she is.

- I don’t know, I was with you remember?? Oh fuck, not now woman- he said blushing and looking away

- Guys!!!- shouted Rick coming to fight with them- The kids are okay but we need to stop this now!!

-Really? I was thinking of drinking a cup of tea and do this in a few hours- said Carol shooting at three walkers

- Woah- he said looking at her, she really looked angry. Maybe she was suffering because of the alcohol in her veins.. or because they got interrupted

- what’s wrong, brother? what did you do??- asked Rick

- She’s drunk- he said 

                               ……………………………………………

- Thank you, Rick. My people is still alive because of you- said Deanna

After one hour killing walkers, they stopped the herd. They closed the gates and they finally rest, what a hell of a night. He was sitting next to Carol, who just fell asleep in his shoulder.

- Don’t… thank her and Daryl, they were the one who really saved the night- said Rick looking at him and a sleepy Carol

- I didn’t know she could fight- said Deanna- How can she be sleeping now, my dear?

- she’s drunk- he said and everyone started to laugh

- Well, she really is a badass, isn’t she?- said Spencer

- Yeah she is- he said looking at his group who was smiling at Carol sweetly. She has saved their lifes too many times…She has been always a fighter, and she was still a bad ass. 

-Take her to sleep, brother- said Rick- You both deserve a good night

He nodded and he took her in his arms. He knew then that almost everyone would know about them, and he didn’t fucking care

He was so fucking happy to have her.

strickenveteran  asked:

Does Mox collect the money from the Slot Machines located in her bar? They must be a popular choice with Sanctuary inhabitants.

yes;

 but she doesn’t necessarily keep all of that money. of course some of it goes to TEDIORE, MALWAIN, JAKOBS, VLADOF, etc ( and none for hyperion, bye ) because they participate by adding their weapons as prizes won by the slot machines themselves. moxxi does get a fair cut though, uses it to spruce up the bar a little, pay her vault hunters for a job well done, and so much more. 

but what she definitely does with whatever left over money, outside of saving it, is pay the rent on her son’s garage without him knowing it – same goes for ellie, every so often she supplies them with a little buffer period for their funds and their businesses, just to be on the safe side. she never tells them, they’d be too stubborn to accept mama’s help but she does it all the same. so she definitely benefits from the funds that she garners from the slot machines - it tends to pan out in the houses’s favor after all, though it’s not her primary source of revenue. 

Shameless Meets Scream

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2bLJZNh

by jeromevaleska

Scream AU. There’s a killer on the loose in the South Side of Chicago, running around in a ghost mask, and everyone is a suspect. Is anyone really safe?

Words: 2070, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English



read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2bLJZNh

anonymous asked:

Is it difficult to have a relationship with someone for years? How do you stop it from becoming boring? 🌹

Every relationship is different, so is every person. Some people have sex to keep the relationship exciting, some have hobbies and interests they share, such as swimming, travelling or hiking, so I don’t know exactly how youor any other person is thinking, but here are some tips and advices from me. I hope it is somewhat helpful.


First of all, no it’s not. We only grew stronger and became kind of obsessed with each other over and within the years. Not only with each other, you also become obsessed with the relationship. It’s beautiful. You know having the person by your side who helps you through tough and hard times, makes you happy and makes you feel safe. We already feel like an old couple, as funny as it sounds. He has been with me even before we started dating, and so have I. It’s important to see more than just a lover in your boy/-girlfriend. We are best friends first and a couple second. We don’t really have to do anything to keep our relationship excited and to stop it from becoming boring, because it simply isn’t. We just give our all and very best when it comes to our relationship. We don’t take things we get for granted. That’s really important. We try to understand and motivate each other. Of course there are things we don’t agree with, but if we see difficulties, we try to compromise.

Second, physical contact and sex. I’m not saying that you must have sex in order to be happy in a relationship. Just that the touch of your partner and the touch of you is a and probably the extremely important key to a healthy and strong relationship. My grandmother once told me, that the touch of the person you love the most, is more powerful and stronger than any weapon in this world. She loved to hug my grandfather every day. After she woke up, after she came back from grocery shopping, even after a fight. She told me, that you never know when and if the hug you give someone and the hand you hold will be the last one you give, and the last one you will hold.

Also, sex shouldn’t be done because you think it’s necessary and a must. You should do it because you love him/her. It’s the most intense and the deepest form of love and affection.

Talk. There are some days, even for us, when we two are bored and stressed and exhausted. When we are, we just enjoy our day together. If alone or together. Space is another thing, if you want to stop your relationship from becoming boring. If you two stick together all day every day, 24/7, you will soon be bored of each other. That’s completely normal. So avoid it. Tell him to go out with his friends onc ein a while and you do the same thing. A little mystery doesn’t and never hurt anybody.


I hope this was helpful.

Good luck.


PS: some links. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

built a wreck out of me

by lizee

Sharing a bed with Zayn used to be the easiest thing for Liam - he always felt safe around him, warm, protected. But at the moment, Liam kind of really wants to die. It’s almost 3 in the morning and Zayn’s making these little noises and rutting against Liam’s back side.

Or, Liam and Zayn share a bed.

Words: 4696, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English



via AO3 works tagged ‘Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson’ http://ift.tt/2bJPY5e
Self Para // Event: La loi du Talion // Voyeur

The insane petite wolf laid in her bed; bare body underneath white silk sheets as she watched the television. She had watched all who mattered, making sure they were safe and once done, she found herself following the ex-master. So quick he was to slaughter these mongrels and even if he was struggling at times, he was mesmerizing to gaze upon. And thus she recorded his kills and would keep on doing so until he came back to the safety of her house.

She would welcome him back like an emperor should be welcomed back. Then she would make sure that those she favored found haven even but for a night or two at her side. She cared for them, yet fell nothing toward the Arena itself or any sense of betrayal from Attila or King Hallron for she had been training and raised by the leader of a clan, thus she kenned of the ways of Kings and Alphas. She kenned they were not pleased to place everyone on the same side and yet doing so would determine which were true supremacists and who’s loyalty was easy to shake.

A scream upon her television had her eyes snapped back to it as she witnesses Janathan ending the life of a vampire mistress. As a Mistress herself, such act was offending under normal circumstances and yet there were not normal, thus she felt only lust as she watched him take a life. 

His carnage continued and soon, her hand slipped beneath the silk, travelling to her wet quivering core. Such a cruel gesture it would, such a disgusting to enjoy and yet, Galadrielle had no shame in doing such thing, for blood and death brought lust forth within her shattered mind. O’ how she would love to be touched and taken in such instance. And while Janathan took most of her mind, she would need more than one to sate the raging fire of lust within her.

And thus came to mind the icy blue eyes of her anchor that could make her kneel with but a frozen gaze. The vicious wolf who had devoured the Red Ridding Hood. The human civilian with iron fists and the heart of a wolf. The Sham Pup and the Hell that followed him. The almost forbidden fruit that she had finally savored in the form of an ex-civilian who set her body on fire like the fires of Pompeii.

Long fingers moved faster within her, and it was when another heart was ripped from its owner upon her screen by none other than Janathan, that she gasped, petite body rising from bed as she found release, wet herself and her bed.

She laid there then, glassy eyes fixed upon the television and yet no longer truly watching it.