what a disdain

hux: You shouldn’t disparage my skills in war, Ren.  I’ll have you know that I excelled in the battle simulations at the Academy


Wordbuilding: Government

“Government is a necessary evil,” President Reagan once said.  And whether or not that’s the view of the people in your world or culture, there is usually some form of government to keep things in order.
In this post, I’ve compiled a list of questions pertaining to government.  It’s not exhaustive, but it can help you get started on creating your culture’s governmental system.
Get creative, get detailed, and go outside of the questions listed.  But also hve fun.

The questions compiled are inspired, taken, modified, or edited from three forums on the NaNoWriMo website: Respond, Answer, Ask 2016 Worldbuilding, Respond, Answer, Ask, 2016 Fantasy, and Fantasy Worldbuilding Questions. 

Who leads the country?
A president?  A king?  An emperor?  A chief?  Or something that the English language does not have a word for?

What are the other forms of authority?
Is there a second in command?  A princess?  Vice president?  Senator?  Chancellor?

What are the ranks of nobility?

How much power does each rank have?
Are some ranks just titles?  Do some ranks strike fear into the hearts of the commoner?

How did these ranks come to be in the first place?

How does one attain these ranks?

How is succession determined in the nation?
Does it go to the next person in line?  Do people vote?  Does the king or queen choose the next ruler?  Are people nominated and have to face each other in a succession of challenges?  Is there a long complicated process?

What kind of government is in place?

Do people vote or do only the rich vote among themselves to determine who will become the next leader?
Can anyone walk into the voting area?  Are people expected to own land before they can vote?  Is there a fee to pay to vote?  What are some rules when it comes to voting?

What do the citizens think of their leadership?

What qualities do the people respect in a leader? What qualities do they disdain?

What sort of civic duties is the average citizen responsible for?
Voting? Jury service? Military service? Temple service?

What would it take to completely change the balance of power?

How does the authority settle disputes to avoid wars?

What sort of public services are available?

Does government provide public roads, hospitals, and other public services?

Does government control orphanages, homeless shelters, and the such?  

Do tiny, far flung villages know anything about who’s in charge, beyond maybe his/her name?
Does it matter to them?  Do they hear the title of “king” or “president” and just laugh?  Do they even know the ruler’s name? 

What is the state of foreign relations?

How are treaties and agreements made between sovereign powers?


the evolution of hongki’s reaction to what is obviously ftisland’s “favorite” single /s

anonymous asked:

Inquisition Companions (and advisors) reacting to someone purposely misgendering a trans inquisitor?

Cassandra: In truth it takes Cassandra a moment to register the insult. Once the Inquisitor had told her what their gender was she had cemented it in her mind and given it no more thought, and so she is not at first sure to whom the stranger is referring to. But when the words strike home she is furious, and woe betide them if they are not already apologzing before she gets a hold of them or draws steel.

“The Inquisitor fights for us all, to save your pathetic life. Apologize now, or I will spare them the burden of your future.”

Solas: There’s anger, and then there is the icy disdain that floods from the elf. There were elves in Arlathan who were either born the wrong gender or were simpy more comfortable living as the opposite sex and he has seen memories of others in the fade. But the hatred was new- not that humans disdaining what was different was something he’d not seen- and he does not tolerate it.

“Are you blind as well as stupid? Address your Herald correctly, or I will make it so address no one again.”

Sera: Big mistake. Big. Mistake. If they won’t let the Red Jenny put an arrow through their eye than Sera begins the loudest, most vulgar verbal beatdown she can summon. Halfway through the person probably begins to run, and is followed by hurled insults (and possibly rocks). She pranks them mercilessly if they stay in Skyhold, and nowhere is safe once they leave.

“Nob headed shitebrained pissbucket nugeater! Get your friggin eyes checked before you talk to the Inquizzy like that, or I’ll make you say what!”

Varric: Well, there goes that person’s financial success. And possibly their ability to sit comfortably, if Bianca is in the mood to doll out justice. But his biggest joy comes in watching them sweat.

“I’d start running if I were you. Sister Nightengale probably already knows where you live, and the Seeker here…well, you don’t want to see what she can do with a knife.”

Vivienne: Like the Marquis before them Madame de Fer has no issue with freezing the hapless fool solid before delivering her icy response.

“Really, darling, I’m disappointed. Of all the insults you might have chosen for our Herald you went with the most crass and least effective to benefit your cause. Such barbs are poisonous only to the wielder, my dear– though I imagine you already know that.”

If the Herald is too upset she will shatter them, but if not she lets them go and then plots some further political reprimand.

Blackwall: He draws steel, size and armor and title all factors designed to intimidate as he crowds the speaker.

“The Herald of Andraste has sacrificed much to keep us safe, and you have the balls to insult them for it? Ungrateful bastard, clear out before I ‘mistake’ you for darkspawn.”

After they leave he claps the Inquisitor on the shoulder, gruffly comforting. “Don’t let those dogs shake you. You are who you are, and that’s all that matters.”

Dorian: The South is barbaric in it’s own ways, but that the Herald is almost universally accepted is incredibly progressive in it’s own way. The mage is still not sure what to do with that, but when it comes to trading insult for insult there is no one better than an altus from Tevinter to have as a champion.

“Charming, truly, your choice of insult. Rather stupid to go blurting it around here though, where so many sharp pointy things are just lying about. But don’t worry if anything does happen. I happen to be remarkably good at reanimation, one of the many hobbies I picked up in the Imperial Circles.” 

He lets his magic glow around his hand, and his smile is far from friendly. “Where there are no Templars to teach us right from wrong. Shall I give you a head start?”

The Iron Bull: If the person is very lucky they go down with only a lightly fractured face when the Qunari decks them. If they don’t he has them by the throat, and they get to learn how intimidating a one eyed stare can be.

“You better step real careful now, friend. You’ve got about ten seconds to apologize or run before I tell my Lieutenant exactly where to find you and what makes you cry– and he will take even more pleasure from dismembering you than I will.”

Cole: “Cruel and arrogant, saying the wrong name for the wrong body, shake them up so that you get out on top, make the Herald fear you. That’s not how it works. You have to pull the not until it tangles and the nightmare comes out. Stuck in the dark, crying out but no one listens, all alone with the strange boy, always talking talking talking.”

No one is exactly sure where the stranger or Cole goes after that, but he isn’t seen in Skyhold again.

Cullen: It would be a mistake to forget that Commander Cullen fights more than just paperwork. He bodily drags the offender through Skyhold, his hands fisted in their collar or belt as a small contigent of soldiers with weapons drawn follows.

“You made a mistake coming here, and mistakes can kill. I’m going to give you five minutes to leave this fortress, or these men here will help you do so.” Dragging their face to his he makes his voice very low and very quiet when he adds “No one checks the snowdrifts on the south side of this castle, and spring is a long way away. Make the right choice.”

Josephine: She is furious and insists that the stranger leave immediately. Her outrage is very calm and very diplomatic, and she focuses her immediate energy on making sure the Herald is alright. If the strangers finances and social standing and marriage falls about after that she certainly could not attest to any knowledge of that fact.

None at all.


Lelianna: All anyone ever knows is that it involves four ravens, three soldiers, a terrifying number of shoes and temporary use of the ramparts. Needless to say the stranger is never seen or heard from again.

–Mod Fereldone


Request: Draco and Y/N are best friends, but he starts dating Pansy. Y/N is in love with Draco so she distances herself from him because she hates to see them together. It hurts him emotionally when she avoids him because he’s in love with her but thought he didn’t have a chance, and he finally confesses.

⇢  Draco x Slytherin Reader; no Voldemort; requests are paraphrased

“We need to talk.”

You raised an eyebrow and looked around the genial Slytherin common room. A soft green glow settled, casting a calming shadow in the bustling space. “Then talk.”

“In private.”

Ignoring the ooh sounds made by Crabbe and Goyle, you stood up and followed Draco to his dormitory. “Is something bothering you?”

“No,” he replied, sitting down on his bed, his head resting on his arms. Feeling your weight next to him, he sighed. “Yes. Maybe. I’m not sure.”

You folded your arms as you leaned against the headboard, peering at the small slither of Draco’s exposed face. “I’ve been your friend for all these years, yet I’ve never seen you look this disgruntled.”

Best friend,” he corrected, giving you a slight smile. 

“Who knows you more than anyone,” you agreed. “So, tell me, then. Who’s the girl?”

“How did you know this is about a girl–” Draco ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his body to face yours. “Forget it. That was an idiotic question. You know me too well.”

“Of course.” You stretched your legs across his lap. “What’s the problem, then? Afraid she doesn’t like you?”

“Afraid she likes me too much, more like.”

You shook your head and stared up at the ceiling in mock disdain. “What a hard life it must be, being Draco Malfoy. How terrible it seems for all the girls to fall for your bad boy facade.” You shot him a sympathetic glance. “Sounds rough.”

“But the only girl that matters won’t fall for me.” Draco paused and looked at you theatrically. “Or so she claims. I believe she has something else to tell me…”

This has been an on-going joke between you and Draco for a while now, but lately, when he’d kid about liking you, you caught your heart skipping a beat. Of course, every time that happened, you would shove your unbearable feelings away in disgust.

“Keep dreaming, Malfoy.” You looked down, examining your manicured nails. “Well? Aren’t you going to tell me which girl you’re talking about?”

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I Am You, You Are Me || Soulmate!Soonyoung || Oneshot

Originally posted by visual-17

GENRE: fluff, soulmate!au, non-famous, convenience stores, college kids

WORDS: 3413

BLURB: Are ugly sweaters a trend nowadays?

A/N: Obviously heavily inspired by Zico’s song of the same name. Have been wanting to finish this for FOREVER, and finally! It’s also my first gender-neutrel fic so please go easy on me. Hope you guys like :)

“Hyung! Could you get me some ramen from the convenience store?”

“Why can’t you get it yourself?”

Chan swivelled in his chair to face the older boy, pouting slightly. “I’m studying! And it’s cold outside. These finals are really important, you know this! What if I catch a cold out there?”

A loud sigh came from the couch where Soonyoung was laying on. “Then eat the ramen we have! Mingyu just went grocery shopping yesterday.”

“But I want my favourite…” The younger boy was petulant and Soonyoung found himself sighing again, sitting up to face his favourite dongsaeng. The kid looked exhausted – what he needed was sleep, not ramen – but one look at that pout and Soonyoung was slowly standing up, though not without a bit of groaning and feigned reluctance.

“You’re lucky I love you kid,” Soonyoung muttered, searching for a sweater and his keys. Chan’s lips quirked up into a grin. “Thanks hyung. You’re the best.”

“Yeah yeah.” Soonyoung wandered into his room and grabbed the first thing off the floor, pulling it over his head. When he walked out Chan was scrunching his nose at him.


“You’re wearing that?” the younger boy asked with disdain.

“What? It’s comfy!”

“It’s ugly.”

“It’s late. No one’s going to look at what I’m wearing.”


“Do you want your ramen or not?” Soonyoung threatened. Chan just shrugged, turning back to his work. “Do whatever you want hyung. I’m just saying you never know when you’ll bump into your soulmate and I doubt you want to be caught in that ugly sweater.”

Soonyoung just rolled his eyes and left the dorm. Instantly, a cold whip of air hit him. Ugly or not, he’d rather be warm in the thick sweater than freeze to death trying to make a good impression, soulmate be damned.

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for @taleasedubh

Pairing:  Draco/Hermione

Word Count:  1359

Prompt:  ‘Kokomo’ by the Beach Boys (1988)

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Link:  Ao3

Of all the people in all the world, both magical and not, the very last person Hermione ever imagined she’d be seeing when she stepped into the lobby of her Hawaii resort hotel was Draco Malfoy.  

Did she mention it was a Muggle resort hotel?  Because it was. It absolutely was.  

The only thing more mortifying than going on holiday with one’s middle-aged parents, was if the holiday was also a retreat for dentists.  Which this was.  

And if one was coming in freshly chucked by their fiance.  (Which she was).

And if one was all alone for the first time in years. (Which she was).

All of these things were true.  And now Draco Malfoy was here on top of it all.  

“Oh, bugger…” Hermione muttered under her breath, hoping to Merlin he hadn’t seen her.  

His gaze caught onto hers and he raised his eyebrows, crossing the floor towards her.  

So much for any help from Merlin.  Blast these dead wizards.  

Oh, that sounded awful.  

But all the same.  

“Malfoy…” she said with a falseness that belied her discomfort.  “Fancy seeing you here.”  

He smirked, crossing his arms over his spotless white shirt and shifting his weight to his other hip.  “Granger, you’re looking well.  It appears you’ve gotten lighter?  Perhaps you’ve lost about one-hundred-eighty pounds of red haired git since I’ve seen you last.”  

The mention of Ron stung more than she thought it would.  But she’d be damned if she was going to let Malfoy know that.  

She shrugged noncommittally, letting one hand slide up her hip to rest on her waist in what she hoped was a look of utter nonchalance and poise.  “I suppose.”  

“It’s a good look on you.  Might want to consider it for the long term.”  

“I did.  Consider it.  Liked what I saw.  Now I’m off to have brunch and spend the day by the pool.”  

He looked surprised.  “Really? You chucked the buffoon?  That’s…interesting…” He chuckled to himself and looked to be finished or bored with the conversation.  

Hermione tilted her head in way of goodbye and walked quickly towards the dining room.  

“Oh, Granger?”  Malfoy turned, shoving one hand into his khakis and looking all the more pretentious for doing so.  

“Hmm?” She turned back to face him.  

“It’s pouring outside.  You might want to stick to the indoor pool.”

She nodded in way of thanks and turned again to make her way to the dining room.  

((Read More Link Below))

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home is where the wifi connects automatically

Word count: 8.5k

Rating: G

Summary: The wifi at Dan’s parents’ house is utter crap, which is definitely why he’s always so miserable when he visits his family for Christmas. Because of the wifi. (Or at least, that’s what he chooses to tell himself.)

Warnings: food, swearing, family-related angst, someone getting mildly drunk

Notes: Each section is labeled with the year in which it’s set, so for clarity’s sake, pay attention to that.

Dedicated to spider, of course <3

[Read on AO3]


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♫Lead Me Out Of The Dark- Crown The Empire// Marauders Era: Regulus x Reader

Request:  could you do a imagine with Regulus and his muggleborn girlfriend after he finds out about horcruxes and decides to bring Voldemort down with song ‘Lead Me Out Of the Dark’ by Crown The Empire?

A/N: I know this is one of my more recent requests, and even though I try going in order, sometimes I just get inspired and this was one of those times, so I hope it’s good! I don’t know if it’s exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you like it either way and it was worth the wait!

You never really know anyone’s story, Y/N writes on a torn piece of parchment, ink already staining her fingertips, trapped tears glistening in her y/e/c eyes and filling her soul, not even when you’ve heard it from their very lips time and time again. Not even when you see the honesty in the glimmer of their eyes and know that they are telling you the entire truth, stripped of coats of sugar and hidden details. You never really know anyone’s story, because they don’t know it themselves until it comes to an end.

She takes a deep breath, letting a teardrop fall onto the parchment and leave a grief filled stain at the bottom of the page. Her heart feels heavy as it brims with a storm of words, words she cannot sew together, and emotions she cannot describe that reflect off its velour chambers with unheard sounds. Each breath she takes stings at her lungs as she sits on the worn armchair that he once sat in, his arm wrapped around her waist while he whispered I love yous in her ear, filling her with joy she thought only existed in romance novels.

With a pained sigh, she picks up her quill and dips it into the small bottle of ink that sits by the parchment, the top of which is graced by her looped cursive writing, which almost seems to dance in front of her tear filled eyes. Her lips quiver as she presses the quill to paper.

Regulus Arcturus Black was the love of my life. Pain overflows at the truth filled words that have now left her mind, but she continues. He was a brave, loving, kind man, but no one knew, no one could guess the battles he was leading with himself for the things he was roped into doing, or the Gryffindor-like courage that filled him on that day. No one knew the whole story. No one but me.

The Black family is a cruel one: they could find flaws even in deity and make Merlin himself feel insufficient for the “privilege” of their presence. Regulus was nothing like that, a sob escapes her lips and she finds ink spilling onto the light surface of the table through the parchment that was now holed by the force with which she pressed down the quill. She doesn’t care at all.

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// they were!! But you sent this very soon after they closed and I promised i’d write V and Saeran for that post regardless so here it is!! Saerans is a little NSFW, nothing too bad. Just some rough kissing and implied succ

READ THIS POST before reading this! It has the plot in it! However that plot takes place while in a route so it’s a little confusing, just take out some of the bits and pieces but you still get the basic storyline.


This would be “ after route ” technically, So Saeran is living with Saeyoung and all that,  I didn’t really know what to do with V so let’s just pretend he has a route here for a second and his good ending would be him getting the eye surgery and being with MC! So this “ takes place ” after that!


It had been a long day for him. First his car wouldn’t turn on, leaving him trapped cold out in a snow storm. Second he had dropped his camera into the wet snow, it was new, expensive, and definitely not waterproof. He just hoped it would be okay by the time he made it home, leg bouncing a bit from anxiety.
As soon as he unlocked the door of his house and exhale out of pure exhaustion exits his lips, running a gloved hand through his hair to shake out the small snowflakes that had gotten buried inside. Winter was such a beautiful time, but him and his car didn’t seem to think alike.

A hot and much needed bath calmed his nerves by a mile, It was still fairly early— About seven pm, so he didn’t know what he should do with his spare time for the rest of the night.
Suddenly an image of you flashed in his mind, his heart skipping a beat at the pretty picture. As much as he’d love to drive over to your home and see you, hold you and touch you– his car still wasn’t working right, and visibility was pretty low due to the heavy snow.
He sighed softly, God he missed you. It’s only been a few days since he’d seen you last but even that seemed like years ago to him. Your scent, smile, the way your eyes light up when you laugh. He hated missing things like those when he wasn’t with you. In all honesty he was so desperate to question if you’d like to move in with him so he could be with you all the time, but yet so terrified of making you feel as if things were going to fast. The last thing in this world he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable.
He sank down into the grey couch, goosebumps spreading over at the sensation of cold leather against himself. Pushing the still wet blue strands of hair away from his face before grabbing for his phone off of the glass coffee table it rested on, he slide across the screen to unlock it.
The battery was a little low, but still enough for a phone call. His heart always skipped a beat whenever he was about to call you, his fingers moving fast to dial the digits he needed to reach. He cleared his throat before swallowing thickly, he’d hoped you’ve eaten something already by this time.

As soon as you picked up he was nervous, he heard you sigh quite heavily out of what– disdain maybe?  It took him aback for a second, was that for him?

“ I’m not going to tell you again, stop calling this number. ”
He felt his blood run cold, you spoke up once more with a harsh and demanding tone before he had the chance to question what he had done wrong.
“ I don’t have feelings for you and I never will. ”
He takes a few seconds to take in what you said before he hears the dial tone, his brows furrowed in confusion as he started down at his phone in pure disbelief. Was it something he had done or said? Were you upset at him? Instantly he feels like crying, stinging tears piling in the corners of his eyes as he vision becomes slightly blurred, God he didn’t want to loose you like he’s lost everything else. You were the best thing that’s happened to him in a very long time, and he just blew it. Was he too pushy when he visited you? He feels like the room is closing in on him and his chest is tight, stomach heavy.

He tries to sleep but he can’t, his body was exhausted but his brain was wide awake, struck with panic and the nagging fear of being alone again,  it was a little past three in the morning before he finally decides to send you a text you and ask what he did wrong and how he could fix it, he couldn’t bare to let you go that easily.

* “ MC, whatever i’ve done to upset you i’m so so incredibly sorry.. Please, tell me what i’ve done so I can fix this. Please.. I don’t want to loose you.

Sleep was not on his mind that night. He stared at the screen for hours as his heart raced, silently praying for your reply to come fast yet still dreaded it at the same time. He sent a few much longer texts after that about how much he loved you and how terrible he was, and a string of apologies. It was around 7 pm before you finally responded to him, he felt his stomach turn when his phone lit up.

* “ V What are you talking about?? ”

Before he could reply his phone buzzed, making him jump a little. He was so tired, but he answered right away.

“ Hello MC.. ”
He greeted you warily, throat dry with anticipation.
“ Hi V.. What were your texts about last night? I never said any of that stuff. ”
You murmur in confusion, your voice was a little croaky from just waking up.
“ .. I called you.. Late last night, and you said that you didn’t have feelings for me anymore. ”
His eyes were half lidded but his mind was still wide awake, his hand clenched the sheets tightly.
“ No no.. V, that wasn’t for you.. ”
You go on to explain the situation to him, he audibly sighs out of sheer relief at your reasonings. He was so scared the entire night and now that all just melted away at your words.

He sinks back into his bed as he chuckles softly, his chest rising and lowering as his breath becomes slower, eyes focusing on the ceiling.  Still in disbelief he runs his fingers through his hair, questioning if you would like to talk to him about your day yesterday. All he wanted was to hear your voice after all that happened the night before. Now more than ever he was so grateful for you, the feeling of loosing you was something he never wanted to experience again.


It had been three weeks since he had forgiven his brother Saeyoung. Three weeks that he never thought he would be able to live to see in his lifetime. It had been hard, learning to cope with all this. He still had a lot of pent up emotion deep inside, Most nights he’d just stare up at the ceiling in thought and doubt. Usually when he was feeling upset at something you would text him as if you knew, if you felt what he was feeling. The others didn’t think MC was making a smart move being with him, even if they didn’t say it he could tell. He could feel it, most were upset at him. But the way he felt when he was around you was alien to him, never in his life had he wanted to make someone as proud, make someone as happy as he did you. How could a person be so kind– so amazing? He’d always dreamed someone like you would come take him away from this awful life, but never thought it would actually happen. So their thoughts and words meant nothing to him.

It had been another tough night, he just felt on edge constantly. Everything Saeyoung said or did annoyed him and he couldn’t figure out why. He’d been trying to  teach himself self control, controlling anger, he just still had a lot of pent up frustrations at his brother that it was hard sometimes. After a quiet dinner he excused himself, ignoring Seven’s desperate pleas to ’ hang out ’ with him. Tonight he just wasn’t in the mood for socialization. However his mind wandered straight to you behind closed doors, he couldn’t help but wonder what you were doing this late. Were you thinking of him too? Everything was so new and foreign to him he wasn’t sure if he was doing this whole relationship thing right but he really was trying. He sank down into his bed with a long exhausted sigh, rubbing his eyes and groaning softly as the bright light of his phone screen lit up the room. It was a text from Saeyoung, he considered ignoring it, but it was caption less and a picture file so he was curious.
As soon as he opened it he cringed at the longcat meme his brother had sent, couldn’t he have sent one that was more.. new? But still, he couldn’t help but smirk at how stupid it was. Damnit.
He didn’t reply, instead returning back into his messages app. A conversation with you caught his eye, he’d talked to you a few hours ago but you still haven’t replied. A small pout grew prominent on his lips, he hated it when you took so long to text him back.
He debated back and forth for a second, but he made up his mind and clicked on your contact– The picture of you causing him to smile softly. He pressed the call button and put it on speaker, staring at the picture in front of him. Finally he jumped a little when you picked up, He was about to ask why you were taking so damn long to reply to him but you spoke up before hand.
“ I’m not going to tell you again, stop calling this number. ”
He felt his heart sink instantly and his brows furrow in anger and confusion, The fuck? You had to be drunk. Or joking.
“ I don’t have feelings for you and I never will. ”
He started blankly at the screen in front of him, processing your cruel words for a few moments before clenching his phone tightly enough it could shatter.
There’s no way in hell you get to say something like that to him. You’re everything to him, what was he supposed to do without you? We’re all those ’ i love yous ’ not real? No, you had feelings for him wether you wanted to admit that or not. He could see it, hell— he could feel it.

It was around one in the morning before you switch into night mode, making yourself some chamomile tea and dressing in some loose sweatpants and a white tee-shirt. Your ex hadn’t called back, that was a relief. Hopefully they got the message loud and clear by now.
Settling into the bed you sigh softly seeing no one was in the messenger at the moment. Usually Saeran was on every night at this time, that was odd for him to break schedule like that. A harsh knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts, also causing you to jump slightly. It was late, why anyone would be here at this time was above you. You swallow thickly, setting the cup down on the nightstand before cautiously making your way towards the door, fists clenched as your nails dig into the palms of your hands.
You reach towards the door handle, before the doors even fully opened its pushed open, causing you to squeal loudly. You don’t even have time to process what’s going on when you feel a familiar pair of lips locked tightly onto yours, it was rough and passionate– His teeth grinding against yours painfully but yet it felt so good. You open your eyes half way to confirm who you think this is, Yes– thank god it was actually your boyfriend. A large hand cups the side of your face, deepening the kiss even more than it already was. You had no idea what had gotten into him but at the moment you didn’t care– Too focused on the sudden advance that had been thrown at you. His fingers roughly traced your face, then down your neck, slowly traveling towards your waist until reaching your hips, gripping tightly as he pulled your body tight against his own. After what seemed like years both of you pull away, breathless but your faces still inches apart. His usual blueish yellow eyes were so dark and menacing, Unknown traits showing through.
“ If you truly didn’t have feelings for me, Would you really melt the way you just did? ”
And devilish smirk apparent on his lips as he caught his breath, hand giving your hip a tight squeeze before his eyes scanned your own confused ones, trying to figure out what you were thinking.
But actions speak louder than words, right? You didn’t know what he was talking about and frankly didn’t care, practically throwing yourself onto him as your nails hungrily run up and down his back, looking for something to grab onto and you kiss him back equally as passionate and hungry.
He couldn’t feel the full effect of yours hands through his thick jacket but he didn’t care, all he knew is that you were his and he was yours.
The rest of the night is filled with pure passion and lust, actions do truly speak louder than words.

anonymous asked:

When Chloe finds out what Jesse told Beca during their breakup?

{Let me start this by saying, I actually really like Jesse, but for the purpose of this ficlet, he’s going to be kind of a dick}

Chloe is worried, because she hasn’t heard from Beca since yesterday and the two of them were supposed to hang out and have lunch. Chloe had gone to the little cafe they were going to meet, but when Beca never showed, she had sent several texts, asking if she was okay with no response back. She’d called a couple times, too but it only went to voicemail. 

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anonymous asked:

I noticed a lot that with former Undertale artists, usually the ones who got really big because of it, that they really actively avoid content including it as well as even mentioning it, and when they do mention it there's a lot of disdain. What do you think went wrong with the whole situation?

#long post

I can’t speak for others but I can sure explain why that is true in my case.

my biggest problem with getting reminded that undertale happened is that while yes, I got a lot of visibility for it, it was also a fucking nightmare.
I created the human au for fun, and I got at LEAST 70 asks every day for it. it was enjoyable at first, I enjoy designing and I enjoy writing, and others seemed to enjoy what I put up, so it was fine. but for some ungodly reason, every fandom has that asshole type of fan that somehow think they’re the owners of the goddamn franchise and its fandom and that they have the right to demand shit from artists. it’s in every fandom, but since UT was so big, these assholes were EVERYWHERE.

so I started getting pressured into drawing more. asks like “when will you draw more papyton?” or “I miss your mettaton art”, constant guilt tripping and just general negative shit thrown into my inbox and then my deviantart submissions and getting called a “crazy sjw panderer” for not making the human skeletons white, it was just…. doing a big number on my mental health and it made me realize I might be depressive because of my work. the breaking point was around Christmas when I took a quick break from UT art, and when I posted UT fanart again after a month, I got an ask saying something along the lines of “good to see youre fucking finally posting art again you lazy ass lol”.

I think every mutual follower I have here that was a popular artist in the UT fandom at the same time as me has the same thing in their FAQ. “when will you post undertale again?” “when I fucking feel like it”.
it’s not the game that we hate or that we hold anything against, it’s mostly how these fuckers wouldn’t leave us alone to draw other shit for ourselves. it was toxic and controlling and I hated every minute of it.

a gentle caress of the inner thigh

You are the last one. You haven’t seen another human being alive for weeks. Plenty dead ones though. Their skin clammy and pale, their eyes staring at you blankly. Some have ghastly holes in their chests, like someone made them swallow a grenade. Others have neat, meaty holes popped straight through their skulls. There are hanging bodies. There are bodies slumped against walls and containers with blood splatters behind them and holes in the back of their heads, guns laying nearby.

Death came indiscriminately to them all. There are dead men, dead women, dead boys and dead girls. Old, young, middle-aged, armed, unarmed, disabled, mentally ill, kind souls, wicked hearts.

Occasionally, the wind blasts through the empty halls of the colony buildings. Sometimes you hear echoing clanks, metal creaking under atmospheric pressures. Power is low, everywhere. Only the basic air conditioning seems to be fully functioning. You never know when your fresh water will run out, or when the various food storage units will fail and all your food will become inedible with rot. Outside the colony’s waning climate control awaits death under freezing temperatures, skin-ripping winds and low oxygen.

You could walk outside. You could try to get as far away from this place as you could. If you were suicidal. And sometimes you are. Sometimes you think about it. You could’ve picked up a gun from any of the bodies that ended their lives with it, and put it in your mouth just like they did. Only the transmission you managed to send out keeps you going. Only the distant dream of rescue.

You are careful as you sneak around the halls. With all the humans dead but yourself, activity in the colony has come to a total standstill. When you see something move, you freeze, and inspect it. It’s usually a flickering light or a piece of paper or fabric, blown by an errant gust through a vent.

You’ve seen their shadows many times, and always managed to hide… but you’ve only seen the creatures one time. You saw their black back, their lengthy serpentine tail flicking as they bit through the skull of your roommate.

You are always on the move, always 100% alert for the hissing noises they make or the sounds of their claws scratching on the insulated metals of the colony interior. Hunger rakes your belly, always– there is never enough food to sustain you for long. You’re always looking for more. Your clothes are long-gone– you scrapped them when they got so soiled and caked with filth that you worried the creatures would smell you. Now you wear a ragged tarp that serves as your bedding, and carry a shoulder bag with almost nothing in it but a picture of your family.

One night you go out hunting for dinner, and you see an administrative office– someplace you weren’t authorized to be before. But with everyone else dead, your curiosity gets the better of you. You enter and make sure you’re alone before inspecting the office’s files, the computers and the paperwork. You come across a confidential letter from the Company, containing information that makes you feel as though your blood is boiling over and freezing at the same time.

You read it and discover that the creatures are to be protected for Company research and are commonly known as Xenomorphs. Your entire colony was considered expendable and the head administrator is probably now sitting in a warm suite, well-fed and unimaginably rich while the Company sends in its combat teams to contain the creatures and capture specimens for research.

You shudder with rage. You shiver with cold. You quake with fear when you hear a soft whisper in your ear, almost like a lover teasing you.

When you turn around to face your death, you see it in such clarity. You see the lanky, skeletal black body, glistening with chitin. You see the long tubular head with no visible eyes. You are so close to the creature you can make out what looks to be a human skull, just under the carapace plating where its eyes should sit above the drooling lips and the gleaming silvery teeth.

It reaches for you slowly. You both know you aren’t about to escape. You both know that soon you, the human, will cease. Its horrible, cold, inhumanly long fingers grip your shoulders and push you down with inexorable force. The creature almost seems like it wants to toy with you– the smaller mouth, like a tongue, steadily extends your way when you expected it to have already slammed through your cranium.

If it isn’t killing you, then it has other plans. Your finishing wound won’t be a cleanly scooped hole in your forehead, it will be a ragged crater in front of you, surrounded by your snapped ribs. You’ve definitely seen what causes those wounds.

You reconcile yourself with your death. You sigh as if weary of the whole business and just wishing it over, willing the constant agonizing stress of survival to finally leave you. In a moment of what can only be described as adrenaline-infused insanity, you actually manage a smile, and you reach up as best you can with your right hand and stroke the creature’s thigh.

It has no visible genitals, or at least, none that you can identify. You don’t know what you were thinking. It hisses and the sound is as loud in your ears as a vessel lifting into orbit.

And then it leans down, and its face bumps into the side of your head. And it stays there, moving slightly. Gently.

The fucking thing is nuzzling you.

Your heart beats faster than a machine gun. Your breathing comes so shallow you might not even be living off oxygen anymore. You stroke its thigh again. It presses its huge, shiny black head into your face and nuzzles your neck. You hear it hiss again and it’s quieter this time. It sounds pleased. You weren’t aware these creatures could feel any emotion but murder.

Your life has become surreal. Would the others have thought to try being affectionate with these creatures? Would they have saved their lives if they hadn’t tried to fight back? Are you already dead and your brain has yet to shut itself down as the final electrical currents snap across your synapses?

You reach up and give the alien a pat on the head, then rub your hand up and down its head and neck. Its skull and skin have absolutely no give, no softness about them. It’s smooth and almost feels like plastic or metal piping that’s been painted with gloss. It is lowering its body onto you. It is no longer gripping you tightly, but holding you gently and with as much softness as it can muster. It’s almost embracing you– no, it is definitely embracing you.

This moment stretches into eternity. You know you are already dead. You have seen these creatures do nothing but kill. You read, on the document provided by the Company, that their first instinct is to gather hosts to expand their hive, and kill any threats to their existence, and that is the extent of their behavior. And that document corresponded with every single experience you and the other colonists have had with the aliens.

So why the fuck, you want so desperately to scream, is this one CUDDLING with you.

“… can you understand me?” you whimper, your voice broken and scratched from not being used in so long. You almost jump at the sound of it.

Behind you, in the entrance to the room, you hear the thump of shell-on-metal and you twist your head back just slightly. There are now three Xenomorphs in the room with you and you are absolutely dead.

The anomaly pressing its body against you raises up and hisses loudly at the two intruders, screeching when they step forward. They hiss back and screech and this exchange goes on for a few minutes before the first one stands up, grabs you in its arms and picks you up.

Its strength is immense. For such slender, insectile creatures, they defy the rules of mass and physics, clinging to surfaces that shouldn’t even support their weight and moving obstacles that would stymie a 300-pound bodybuilder in peak condition. It carries you like a bride, through the room, past its comrades. It bares its metallic teeth at them as they step back in what can only be disdain or amazement.

You see the colony through the same dead eyes that stare back at you from every corpse you’ve come across. You see all your hiding spots. You see rooms you’ve slept in and dead friends and coworkers. You only feel its hard limbs under your body and the steady, rhythmic gait of its legs as it carries you away.

Occasionally it bends its head and presses its face into your chest, your neck and most commonly your abdomen. Not one time does the alien holding you make a hostile, threatening move. Each second you expect to feel it throw you down, slam you against a hard surface, shatter your skull with its inner jaws, or split you wide open with its tail or claws.

It never does. You actually start to doze. If you’re going to die, at least you’ll die well-rested. It keeps cuddling with you as it carries you. Your mind, your internal thoughts, all seem to have crashed like a computer. Nothing makes sense anymore.

You lose track of how long it carries you and you even forget where you are. The lights are flickering, then dimmed and flickering, then buzzing with sparks, and then there are no lights besides auxiliary floor bulbs for guidance, and your eyes adjust to the dark underground bowels of the colony. Basements and storage chambers and warehouses full of equipment you never needed.

You end up in a warm, humming room. Before you and your alien captor, you see another Xenomorph, five times the size of the rest. Its head, you immediately notice, is not tubular like the smaller aliens. It’s flatter, flared and carved with ridges and spikes… it resembles a fancy, regal shield… or a crown. Behind this gigantic alien you see something equally huge, a bulbous fat tube the color of a stale sausage. Where it terminates, a brownish blob slides out of the nozzle-like tip.

All around you are the oval-shaped, chair-sized brown pouches that can only be the eggs. And you know exactly what comes from within.

You can see one of the spidery, larval creatures now, lying on its back in front of a woman who was pinned to a wall with some sort of slippery-looking resin, or webbing. It’s clearly dead, and so is she. And soon one of the facial spiders will be coming for you as well. You know this. Whatever intentions this oddly affectionate alien had…

You hear it growling and hissing at the larger alien. The bigger one hisses back and its voice is as big as its body. They both fall silent.

The fear only left you for a few moments before, and now it returns to stab its chilling claws into your back, as the alien that brought you here carries you forwards and sets you right in front of the vast presence that dominates the room.

Massive, steel-hard fingers curl around your entire body and lift you to the snarling face of the egg-layer. You almost feel… honored. Like they decided to bring you to their leader, since you managed to be the last human standing, and show you off as a prize.

Her presence hums at your brain. You can tell she’s female. It’s just something you feel (the fact that she’s laying eggs behind her helps you make that decision, but her close proximity somehow seems to confirm it). She opens her mouth and you can see her inner jaws extend your way. The mouth on the end is every bit as big as yours. The smaller set of teeth opens and closes, and then retracts.

She presses you close and you feel those inner jaws slide forwards and poke your lips. Her fingers squeeze you slightly; you can’t help but let out a terrified yelp and that’s all the opening she needs to press in further. That probing inner jaw slides into your mouth and parts your jaws around it firmly.

You are completely helpless. It plunges further in and somehow manages to bypass your gag reflex. You’re basically swallowing it now, except it remains attached to her, and it tastes of iron and mucus and you feel something round and smooth roll from it. The round lump slips from her jaw and makes your throat bulge as it rolls down. You feel it plop into your stomach like a rock.

And then she sets you back down. You collapse. You are stunned and overwhelmed by sensations. The alien from before, the affectionate one, rushes to your side and lifts you up again. It makes a noise– a growl? No… more like a purring. A purr that comes from a giant black serpentine insectoid extra-terrestrial, but… a purr.

And it lays a hand on your abdomen, which is… throbbing.

The egg-layer… the mother. The mother alien emits a shrieking call, and you see two smaller aliens scamber off into the colony. She looks down at you and your… lover? Captor? Killer by proxy? Which is which anymore?

You can’t tell if these creatures smile. You can’t tell if they feel anything but killer instinct. At least, you couldn’t before. And you still can’t tell what those ghoulish grinning teeth actually signify. But in your fugue state of “why am I not dead right now this is so fucked up,” you want to believe that she’s smiling at you, and so is the alien cuddling with you, and so are the two that return eventually with some packets of rations and a hard-rubber canteen filled with warm, but drinkable water.

Your snuggler continues to nuzzle you and devotes an awful amount of attention to your stomach, which is still throbbing and feels warm. You eat some bland rations and guzzle the water. Did they find it somewhere on their own? Did she know where it was? Are they intelligent enough to know how to operate human machinery…? Does it even matter! You are fed and you have water to drink and for some unfathomable reason, you are sitting amongst an unknown amount of vicious alien creatures that killed off every other colonist but you. And you are still alive.

That’s when the throbbing intensifies in your gut and your snuggler hisses in what you imagine to be delight, as you undergo a full-body spasm that electrifies your brain. It’s not a seizure, it’s too short to be a seizure. It leaves you dazed. When you become aware again, you inspect yourself and the reason for the throbbing in your belly becomes rather obvious, as if it weren’t before.

You have lost a lot of weight since the attack. You’ve gone hungry more than once and you’ve been incredibly mobile, so your musculature has adapted and where you once had a flat, soft layer of padding on your middle, you now have a lean set of just-visible abdominals that show themselves when you flex.

Or at least, you did before your little twitch attack.

Now you have a smooth, firm bulge sitting in front of you. The alien places its hand on that rounded bump and rubs you tenderly. You feel feverish and nauseated. You feel another small wave of muscle spasms wash over you, but this time you don’t lose your cognizance and you are able to watch your belly gain about an inch in diameter. You see yourself inflate and are unable to stop the quavering whimper that jumps out of your mouth.

The hard, smooth head of the alien bumps into the side of your face. It lifts you up again and sets you down on a pile of brown. You look around you and you see that you’re laying on top of tens upon tens of discarded, empty egg shells. They’re soft and leathery, almost like cushions.

You notice this, you take in these details and feel another twitch run through your body. It centers in your belly this time, a pulsating tingle, and this time you see yourself fill up bigger than the last time. You can feel the weight of it now. You can feel the roiling and the jittering creature inside you bumping against your innards.

When you sit up a little, you inflate a little bit more and you see a tiny bulge run across your skin. The pulses run through you. Your belly sits firmly in the wedge created by your body meeting your legs, and as much as you want to curl up and let exhaustion have its way with you, adrenaline and terror team up with the size and firmness of your impregnated abdomen to prevent this.

Like a lover, like a strong, virile young man wrapping his powerful arms around the growing baby in his woman’s belly, your snuggly alien moves in and sits behind you close enough for you to feel every inch of its ribbed torso. Its arms embrace you. Its hands clasp you. Its fingers trail your exposed skin, smooth and warm and tight, firm with the life swelling inside.

“Do you understand me?” you whisper to it. “Do you… was this all just a failure, to communicate?“

If the alien understands you, it gives no sign. It simply continues to love on you. Is it love if no other emotions exist to contradict it?

You moan when the pressure in your gut builds and you blow up even bigger. It feels like a gassy meal, which… makes a little sense, as it seems to be taking place solely in your digestive tract and at least one thing about this night follows a tiny bit of logic. Your belly is forcing you to lean back. It’s the size of a basketball now and twice as heavy. Every time you grow, each bloat looks almost comical, so rapid is the transformation. As if you simply swallowed a balloon, and the friendly alien behind you is secretly filling it with air when you’re not looking.

And every time you grow, the one behind you and any nearby and the mother herself seem to grin wider or hiss in appreciation.

You push up with your feet, pushing yourself further back into the alien’s bony bear-hug. The pressure has gotten intense enough to actually make you feel somewhat aroused. You can’t see your crotch. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear you were just a big, round belly with legs. The alien inside you is positively bouncing around your guts, sometimes hard enough to make audible thumps; if your snuggler wasn’t holding you, you might’ve fallen over from its raucous kicking.

Something changes. The pulsing and throbbing stops. The twitches cease. A warmth is starting to build inside you. Your alien hisses loudly at the mother; she hisses back and you feel yourself lifted again. The alien sets you on your feet and you find that while you can stand upright, the first step you take nearly sends you crashing forwards– you’re completely off-balance and top-heavy now. The skin over your gut is almost shiny in the dim glow of the floor bulbs.

Your alien hefts you upright and marches you awkwardly to stand in front of the mother.

This is where I die, you think. Any second now you expect to feel yourself splitting wide open like an overripe fruit and spilling everything inside you all over the floor in one last burst of agony.

Instead, you immediately feel like you’re about to puke, and you double over and vomit slick clear goop in a cascade. It wriggles up from your bowels– no, that’s the alien. It stretches your jaw wide and slides out of you easily, tickling your distended throat on the way up and hitting the ground running.

It looks like a little, flesh-toned, phallic-headed snake. The baby seems to sense that it’s in a safe place and curls up in front of the mother… in front of its mother, or in other words YOU.

Your alien lover actually gives you a squeeze. A full-on hug. You weren’t even aware that it… that it was capable of understanding what such a gesture meant, let alone freely giving one.

It lets you go and you stand facing it, staring up at the glistening black creature in amazement. Was the Company wrong about them? Are they not… what if… but could they… and if…

So many questions jumble your brain that you almost don’t see the long black fingers on either side of you, until they close around your entire body and lift you back up in front of the mother’s face again.

Blood of Passage: Part Eighteen


Tarus stared at the inkwells and the needles beside them. His eyes dragged to the artist touching the stranger’s neck, the needle, the pinpricks of blood that ran as the artist tattooed the night court insignia to the male’s skin. He could do this. He could sit for hours and let the male tattoo his skin. Let the male touch him. Let the male- No. No he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t-


He flinched at his name, pulling himself from the growing turmoil in his blood. He turned to the voice. Zevakyn’s head was cocked, his dark hair hanging loose over his eyes. solid deep brown filled with a painful kindness that made his heart beat faster and his mind run clear. “Sorry, got lost in thought.” The lie came out smooth as silk.

A crooked grin rested easily on the male’s face, not quite reaching his eyes; hands in his pockets. “What are you thinking about? Where to get your tattoo at?”

He thought he would be dead and not have to get one. He planned to let himself be killed by Azriel or the rest of Blake’s family. But they didn’t kill him. They did the exact opposite and welcomed him and now he would have to get a tattoo and let the tattooer touch him and ink him and the thought had panic wrapped around his throat into a chokehold.

He cleared his throat. “Something like that.”

“Tarus, you’re next,” one of the tattooers said.

He closed his eyes briefly before reopening them. Zevakyn had disappeared. “Okay. I’m coming.”

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anonymous asked:

apparently there was a bi '''discourse''' and it went away? like, i'm sure most of those people then morphed into the aphobes of today, but does anyone remember what they did to make those assholes stop? maybe we can apply it to ace '''discourse''' and also help our spanish speaking siblings put an end to the hell of nb '''discourse'' (i hate that word it's not a discourse it's abuse and mislabeling ughJH), cause no platofrming is great but they're still here, and still violent abt it.

Yea I went through bi discourse, and basically we outnumbered them and made them feel the minority, we ridiculed them instead of validating them, and basically made everything they said laughable and not even worth discourse (like we are trying to do with aphobes now.) Push them to the fringes, don’t dignify them, and call them what they are with disdain so they know they aren’t tolerated. They’ll find themselves with few allies and a lot of shunning, with nobody to listen to them.

tempest || pt. 1

Pairing: Reader x Jeonghan
Genre: adventure, pirate!AU
Summary: You and Jeonghan are captains of rival pirate ships. It’s somewhat friendly, definitely flirty, and occasionally disdainful. What will become of it?
Word count: 1.7k
A/N: @shouldwefall happy birthday friend! This is a little gift for you <3

The clank of rapiers rung above your head, the impact rattling through your arm. You were growing tired of this battle. You didn’t think that was possible. Especially not against such a pretty man.

“Give me the map,” he hissed, his breath ragged and heavy.
“No,” you smirked, pushing against the hilt of your blade, sidestepping away from him.
The man scowled, taking a step back.
You smirked, raising your rapier in front of you. He looked furious.

The two of you had been at it for a solid twenty minutes. You and your crew could usually dispatch a man in less than fifteen. Anything over was arduous. And this man wasn’t about to give up. Your crews clashed around you, equally matched to one another. The one advantage you had was numbers. You weren’t sure how many you outnumbered them, but you knew there were for of you then there were of them. However, you were impressed. These seemed to be the first group of men not to underestimate your crew. Maybe your reputation had finally expanded. The thought made you smile.

Regardless, this was irritating. You had to end this fight somehow. Take out the captain, and you startle the crew. That’d give you enough time to take them down. You weren’t going to beat him on strength alone.

You parried another hit, sliding your blade up his in order to create a terrible noise. The man winced, but his expression was relentless. You leapt back, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. He was glaring at you, his eyes burning with wrath. Perfect time to strike.

You screamed, running towards him. He jerked in surprise, scrambling backwards as he raised his rapier to parry yours.

“Don’t breathe,” Hyejin smirked, her knife resting against the man’s Adams apple. She’d snuck up behind him while you’d startled him, trapping him. You heard him curse under his breath.
You nodded at your second in command, and sauntered towards the man. He was beautiful. Even in the aftermath of a battle, blemished with blood and dirt, he seemed to glow. His skin was clear, with a beautiful tan, and his hair was long and dark and framed his face. He had high cheekbones and clear eyes, and you wondered for a moment if he might be an angel. That moment passed quickly. You couldn’t help but smile smugly at the sight; a tall, beautiful man, held at the mercy of a woman. It was a sight you’d never get tired of.

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