you can only see these three so i'm only tagging them

anonymous asked:

hply shit. Chechenya's (an autonomous region of Russia) recently opened concentration camps for LGBT peoples. 100 gay men have been captured and 3+ have died

I don’t even have the words for this.

Human Rights Watch states:

For several weeks now, a brutal campaign against LGBT people has been sweeping through Chechnya. Law enforcement and security agency officials under control of the ruthless head of the Chechen Republic, Ramzan Kadyrov, have rounded up dozens of men on suspicion of being gay, torturing and humiliating the victims. Some of the men have forcibly disappeared. Others were returned to their families barely alive from beatings. At least three men apparently have died since this brutal campaign began.

This chilling information was first publicised by Novaya Gazeta, a leading independent Russian paper. Their report came out on 1 April, prompting the spokesperson for Chechnya’s Interior Ministry to dismiss it as an “April fools’ joke.” Kadyrov’s press secretary immediately described the report as “absolute lies and disinformation,” contending that there were no gay people in Chechnya and then adding cynically, “If there were such people in Chechnya, law-enforcement agencies wouldn’t need to have anything to do with them because their relatives would send them somewhere from which there is no returning.”

Mass pro-Kadyrov rally organized by Chechen authorities in Grozny in January 2016.

Chechnya’s official news agency, Grozny Info, quoted numerous local commentators bashing Novaya Gazeta and other “enemies” of Chechnya and Russia for supposed attempts to discredit the Chechen people, “foster sodomy,” and undermine “traditional values.”

The information published by Novaya Gazeta is consistent with the reports Human Rights Watch recently received from numerous trusted sources, including sources on the ground. The number of sources and the consistency of the stories leaves us with no doubt that these devastating developments have indeed occurred. LGBT Network in Russia opened a special hotline to provide emergency support to those who find themselves in immediate danger.

The Russian LGBT Network has released a statement with stories about what has happened to some (obviously anonymous) men.

It’s really important to share the Russian LGBT Network’s statement overall:

The Russian LGBT Networks is highly disturbed and concerned about the information on the kidnapping and killing of people in Chechnya because of their sexual orientation. We are also outraged by the reaction of the officials of the Chechen Republic, who in fact justify the killings.  No national and/or religious traditions and norms can justify kidnapping or killing of a human being. Any references to “traditions” to justify kidnappings and killings are amoral and criminal.

The Russian LGBT Network makes every effort to contact the victims and to provide the emergency support. Taking into account the recent statements of the Chechnya officials, we believe that the only thing that can work out is the evacuation. We cooperate closely we the human rights defenders both in Russia and abroad, and ready to evacuate.

On Monday, the Russian LGBT Network will appeal to the Investigative Committee of the Russian Federation with two claims. The one is the demand to investigate the information on the crimes, published in “Novaya Gazeta”. Another one is the claim to check whether the public statements of the Chechen officials made on April 1 and justifying the killings, contain the elements of the offence.

We are grateful to everyone who contacted us and asked how they can help. What do we need now?

  • Help us to spread the information about the fact that the Russian LGBT Network is ready to evacuate people. Please think for whom this information can be useful. You can spread the information publicly or personally. Everyone who needs help can contact us by email or call the Hotline (8 800 555 73 74). The call is free all over Russia.
  • In accordance with the Russian legislation, every citizen can apply to the Investigative Committee with the demand to investigate the information about the crime published in mass media. We encourage everyone to apply (the template of the claim will be published tomorrow).

We understand that many people want to help those in need. But please remember that any uncoordinated actions can put in additional danger people in need and those who are ready to help. Therefore, we do not recommend to collect the addresses of people who are ready to provide temporarily shelter.

Be aware, that the situation with the human rights in the North Caucasus is truly difficult. Now people’s lives are endangered and the only way to help is the evacuation. The Russian LGBT Network has the necessary resources to evacuate people, there is a team that already makes every effort to safe lives. That is why we ask everyone to share with us the information about people in need and any offers of assistance.

Again, their contact information is here for all Russians, and the number is free to call.

This is very real, modern day evil and this information needs to be shared.

accidentally?

Based on this prompt I said I’d fill a few days ago:

boss: “know why I called you in here?”
me: “because I accidentally sent you a dick pic”
boss: “accidentally?”

yup.

(on ao3)

“You need to stop pining after people you haven’t even spoken to,” Lydia says one day, probably because Derek—er, Mr. Hale, their boss—has just stepped through the front door of the cafe where they’re having lunch, and Stiles has trailed off mid-word to watch him walk up to the counter. In Stiles’ defense, he’s never seen Mr. Hale outside of the office before, let alone Mr. Hale wearing a leather jacket over his dress shirt. God, and Stiles thought the tailored suits were bad enough…

Anyway.

“Uh, I have too spoken to him,” Stiles says indignantly, tearing his eyes away from Derek’s broad back across the room. “One day I was coming out of the break room and I almost walked right into him and he said, ‘Excuse me,’ so then I said, ‘Oops,’ and he smiled at me. Kind of. A little bit. I mean, I interpreted it as a smile. There was some prolonged eye contact.”

Lydia abruptly stops stirring her fat-free latte to stare at him—one of those Oh god, it’s worse than I thought kind of looks. “That’s it?”

Keep reading

on their first date

What if the dinner at Angelo’s went differently? All it takes is stepping on a butterfly to change fate. (x)

Tagging @a-candle-for-sherlock @missmuffin221 @ailynerie @shag-me-senseless-watson @very-grumpy-bisexual @love-in-mind-palace @fangirllock @one-thousand-splendid-stars @the-blue-carbuncle (Let me know if you’d like a tag in any future stuff! I might turn this into a series.)



This is as cliché as it could have gotten.

Nestled together beneath delicate lights, the small Italian café soaking warmth into bones chilled by the London air. A table so small, two sets of knees could knock together with just a shift of weight (that is, if either of the knee-owners so inclined). Enough familiarity to settle into the scene with ease, though enough of strangers to still wary of the other. A candle flickering between them.

It’s enough to make you think. To make you wonder.

“You don’t have a girlfriend, then?”

When Sherlock hears you, you never can tell if he’s actually listening. “Girlfriend? No, not really my area.”

“Mm.” John says, and then freezes, the full intent settling in his stomach. Oh. “Oh, right.” A beat. “D’you have a boyfriend?”

Now Sherlock is listening, head immediately snapping to his companion with sharp, appraising eyes. His brow is furrowed. It makes him look boyish and, well, human, a word John has quickly learned not to affiliate with the man. John’s worried he’s actually offended him.

“Which is fine, by the way.”

“I know it’s fine.”

Keep reading

spacediino  asked:

whatthefuckwhattheFUck ur tags on the hannibal gif set destrOYED me I'm at the store either leave me alone or write the thing (sorry for yelling I love ur blog)

I’m happy you like my tags (linked here) and I have written the thing~


Will does not bring it up. Hannibal, mercifully, has not once tried to broach the subject though Will can see he wants to. If he did, Will would cancel every appointment, quit his job, and really commit to the hermit lifestyle he is practically living, too embarrassed to go on, but Hannibal doesn’t so Will gets to enjoy this aspect to their not quite doctor-patient and not quite whatever-they-are relationship.

They don’t talk about it and that’s good.

It’s Sunday, nearly seven in the morning. Will still has dried mud on his shoes from the crime scene yesterday. He hasn’t slept and he can hear Jack’s voice in his ear, asking for more and only getting from Will a few grunts and a few jumbled sentences that must have made a passable analysis of their killer for Jack to willingly send him back home.

Hannibal looks less surprised than he should with Will–red faced, sweating, dressed in the day before yesterday’s clothes, and unwilling to look him in the eye long enough to see the red in his irides–showing up at his door without calling.

Keep reading

cathcer1984  asked:

Sorry I feel like I'm being a pain, asking so often... but do you guys have a werewolf convention tag? Where things like Electricity in the Contact and Wake Up Call and Pretty in Tents and similar fics would be? If this makes sense? ... its late and I'm not wearing my glasses. Thanks in advance.

AND

Anonymous said:Can you rec some werewolf convention fics? Thank you x

Omggggggggggg….NO.  I had this huge post almost done, and then accidentally dragged another tab on top and it reloaded this page, so I lost everything *wails*.  I think I recovered most of the links, fingers crossed!  (damn you, Tumblr!!!  Let me save replies as drafts!!!!!)  -Emmy

Originally posted by batlabels

Indulgence by Inell

(2,500 I Explicit I Complete)  *sterek, emissary!Stiles, married!sterek, public sex

Derek and Stiles indulge in a mutual kink in a hotel corridor outside a crowded ballroom during a werewolf conference.

Pack Dynamics Among Born Werewolves by alocalband 

(3,009 I Mature I Complete) *sterek, enemies to lovers

A Werewolf Convention AU in which both Derek and Stiles are complete nerds about supernatural politics.

Anything But Dull by tryslora

(3,593 I Teen I Complete)  *stackson, fake!sterek, arranged marriage

Politics is everything at a werewolf conference. Stiles is pretending to be Derek’s boyfriend. Peter is trying to make alliances by marrying Jackson and Malia off to other packs. And Jackson is frustrated by wanting the one person he can’t have.

Only Fools (Fall) by werewolvesandarrows (nerdy_farm_girl)

(4,836 I Teen I Complete)  *derek/stiles/scott

Scott knew this was a bad idea from the get go.
Okay, maybe not quite, but let’s just say he had some reservations about bringing Derek and Stiles to the Northern California Alpha Symposium as his guests. He was willing to take a majority of the blame, but he just wishes someone (coughLYDIAcough) would have stepped in and straightened this out before things got out of hand.

Operation Get Derek Laid by Kikileduc 

(5,109 I Mature I Complete)  *sterek, secret relationship, spark!stiles

There’s pining, misunderstandings, confusion, a little jealousy…

Stiles and Derek they have a nice thing, no one knows, yet. The issue is, they want their alpha to get lucky at the werewolf seminar, and well Stiles thinks Derek wants that too…

Two Beds + Three People by KuriKuri

(5,145 I Explicit I Complete)  *derek/stiles/scott, polyamory

“You’re not going to try out the bed, Derek?” Scott asks, and Derek really, really hopes Scott doesn’t notice the way his heart skips a beat. There are many ways Derek can think of trying out Scott and Stiles’ hotel bed, none of them appropriate.

(Or: sour skittles at a werewolf convention.)

Alpha and Emissary by Chiomi

(6,319 I Teen I Complete)   *sterek, magic!stiles

One hears rumors, seeping out of Beacon Hills on waves of smoke and blood.

And then one sees the True Alpha’s Star Wars swim trunks.

The whole weekend is very unnerving.

My Best Decision (Has Yet To Be Made) by only_one_word 

(6,563 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, emissary!stiles

Stiles knows a couple things about Derek:
Derek doesn’t like to speak in full sentences in the morning
Similarly, he doesn’t like asking for help

Family Unit by AsagiStilinski

(8,851 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, magic!stiles, packmom!stiles, roadtrip

So werewolf symposiums are a thing

That’s a thing that exists, it’s happening, it’s in the world now

And Stiles doesn’t know what in the name of hell he did to deserve this

(“It’s a mixed supernatural convention Stiles, not a ‘werewolf symposium’!”“)

We Have Potential by dragon_temeraire

(10,196 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, fake relationship, werewolf culture

Derek has finally been invited to the annual North American Werewolf Convention. The only problem? They’re expecting him to bring a significant other. He doesn’t actually have one, but everyone volunteers Stiles for the job.

Mates and Mushrooms by mikkimouse 

(11,536 I Explicit I Complete) *sterek, fake/pretend relationship, sex pollen, dubious consent

Derek’s not that excited about spending three days at a conference getting propositioned by every Alpha with a single pack member. Stiles has a plan to make it stop.

It might be a great plan…if only Derek weren’t head over heels in love with him.

It might be an even better plan if someone at the conference didn’t have a vested interest in Derek staying single.

Find Me Sitting Poolside by TroubleIWant 

(14,286 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, fake/pretend relationship

“Oh, and you’re the Hales!” the host exclaims when Stiles slides the sign-up sheet back. “Or, Hale and Stilinski, I guess. For now.” She gives them a conspiratorial wink. “I have to say, we are just pleased as punch to see an adorable couple like you attending!”

Stiles tosses an arm familiarly around Derek’s shoulders despite all the bags hanging off them, and gives him a squeeze. “I know! We’re pretty much the cutest. Right, honey?” He shoots his Alpha a shit-eating grin.

Derek bares his teeth in what’s probably supposed to be a smile, except that it isn’t, in much the same way that they are supposed to be a couple, but aren’t.

Survival is a Habit by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere 

(15,805 I Not Rated I WIP)  *sterek, spark!stiles

Nearly a year after the Hale pack defeated their first real threat, Talia gets a call inviting them to attend the Triennial Pack Convention.  

They gladly accept, hoping to use the TPC as one last celebration before the younger members go off to college, but when a series of events puts the pack at risk, they find themselves in desperate need of allies.

Love You Harder by tryslora 

(24,886 I Explicit I Complete)  *scott/stiles, unrequited love, fake/pretend relationship, emissary!stiles

Pretend dating is hard. Like really. Like walking around hard all the time hard. Stiles is starting to wonder if he’s going to survive the experience.

Espy Me, While I Watch You by frostedgoddess 

(27,280 I General I WIP)  *sterek, spark!Stiles

Derek Hale is a lot of things; Alpha, leader, survivor, and hopeless closet fanboy to the devastatingly cute YouTube sensation, Spark Stiles Stilinski.

Then, Derek’s betas come up with an amazing plan to get Derek an emissary. Any Alpha’s dream come true.

And it will be, if Derek can juggle his responsibilities as an Alpha, judgement, guilt, and roughly a metric fuckton of self-loathing and doubt about whether he’s good enough for a beautiful thing like Stiles.

It’s Free (And Always Will Be) by kellifer_fic, maichan808 (maichan)   

(31,681 I Explicit I Complete)  *sterek, werewolves are known

Stiles starts looking around, like there’s someone who’ll rescue him from this painfully awkward situation and Derek can’t blame him. All he can think is this is some kind of elaborate prank Laura is playing on him after she’d found his pile of Fangboy back copies last month.

Or, the one where Derek has to marry a human to save Clawbook and it turns out to be Stiles. He’s completely doomed.

Of Werewolves and Dolphins by Ilovesocks_24 

(53,506 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, scott/isaac, friends to lovers

  “Stiles, come on! It’ll be fun,” Scott said. “You can’t deny that seven days in the Caribbean on a cruise ship full of hot, single werewolves won’t be a good time.”

 “Maybe for you,” Stiles said. “Because you’re tan and have a six pack. No one is going to talk to me at all. Also, fun fact: I’m not even a werewolf.”

 “You don’t have to be a werewolf to come,” Scott said. “You just have to be twenty-one so you can drink. Or so hot guys can buy you drinks,” he added, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

 “No, thanks,” Stiles said, shrugging. “Go on without me, just send postcards with all the hot guys you meet.”

 “They’re stopping in Cozumel,” Scott said. “It says here that you can swim with dolphins.”

 “Did you say we could swim with dolphins?” Stiles asked, curiously. “Like the ones that do tricks at Seaworld?”

 “That’s what swimming is,” Scott said, eyes gleaming.  

 “When do we leave?” Stiles asked.

Or the one where Scott convinces Stiles to go on a werewolf singles cruise. Stiles is really only going for the dolphins. Until he meets Derek.

You Make My Heart Ache by grimm 

(248,910 I Explicit I Complete)  *sterek, parrish/stiles, nogistune/stiles, mates, stripper!derek, bakery au

Based on this prompt & photo! I couldn’t resist. :D

Rating: General
Applicable Tags: Fake boyfriends, Fluff

Part One | Part Two


When did you first know?

The question is a simple one in theory, and it’s also one to which Sherlock has given quite a lot of thought in the past, most notably when he was in his depressed moods and wanted to torture himself with the more wonderful images of John that he had stored up in his Mind Palace.  It’s no longer torture to remember those times, to picture those small smiles and shared giggles that were so frequent early on in their acquaintance, but there is still a dull ache that resonates within him at the thought they had wasted so much time.

He flicks through his favorite memories now, a quick perusal before settling on one that seems so very inconsequential but that he has never been able to shake away.  John is watching him, that same impossibly soft look in his eyes, a look that Sherlock still can’t believe is directed towards him.

Sherlock pulls his bottom lip between his teeth briefly and then takes a deep breath, settling his hands on the arms of his chair again.  “The first time I knew was the day we met with Sebastian.”

John frowns.  “Sebastian?”

“Sebastian Wilkes from the bank, you remember.”

John’s eyes light up.  “Oh, the Blink Banker case!”

Sherlock rolls his eyes and is on the verge of making a comment about how John really needs to work on his titles, but John’s expression suddenly shifts, the light in his eyes fading and his lips turning downward.

“That long ago?” he asks, and there’s something so unexpectedly sad in his voice, a quiet note that squeezes Sherlock’s heart.

He clears his throat.  “Well.  Yes.  I was–it was quite early on in our…friendship that I realized I was…”

Falling in love with you.  The words won’t form even though he’s thought them so many times that it’s become an integral part of who he is.  But neither of them have said it out loud yet, a fact which hadn’t really seemed important until this moment.  

There hadn’t been any dramatic declarations, no emotional outbursts.  It had been simple, in the end; John had come home with the shopping, heavy bags hanging from each hand, and Sherlock had turned from his place by the window (where he’d been watching as John trudged down the street, head bent against the cold).  And John had met his eyes and given him that smile, the one he frequently used to hide behind when he was feeling more emotionally tired than usual, and Sherlock had decided right then and there.  In three strides he was across the room, and it turned out that deciding to kiss John Watson had been the simplest thing he’d ever done.

He remembers the way John’s mouth, so cold from the biting chill outside, had warmed beneath his lips, his tongue; the way John’s shock had melted almost immediately, fading into heartfelt reciprocation as the groceries spilled to the floor at their feet and his hands, free of their burden, slid into Sherlock’s hair. From there, the bedroom was only a few stumbling steps away, and neither of them had looked back since.

Saying the words simply hadn’t seemed necessary after everything they had told each other with their bodies.  All of the longing and frustration and emotion had come pouring out of them in such a physical shape that they had never stopped to really define it with words.  Or perhaps, Sherlock thinks now, they had both been too afraid to give them voice.

“Sherlock.”

John’s hand touches his own where it’s curled on the armrest, and Sherlock is startled out of his memories.  He realizes he must have been silent for some time because John has moved, is now perched on the very edge of his seat, his knees nearly knocking against Sherlock’s.

“There you are,” he says, smiling softly, his head tilting as he searches Sherlock’s face for clues as to where his mind might have taken him.

Sherlock lets out a breath and flips his hand over, catching John’s fingers in his own.  “I’m sorry, I was…distracted.”

“You all right?”

“Yes.  Yes, I’m fine.  Where was I?”

John rests his elbows on his knees but keeps hold of Sherlock’s hand, folding it in between both of his own.  “The day we went to see Sebastian.”

“Right.  Yes.  It was before that, though, before the case began.”

John’s thumb rubs a warm, smooth line back and forth across Sherlock’s palm, and it makes him want to close his eyes and just exist in this moment, a feeling he can’t ever remember having had before he’d let John Watson touch him.

“I don’t remember,” John says, sounding apologetic, which is ridiculous. Sherlock supposes he must think they’re talking about some significant moment in their lives, something that should stand out.

He shakes his head.  “No, you wouldn’t.  It was…you had just come back to the flat.  You’d gone out to get the shopping.”

John’s confusion seems to increase, and he opens his mouth, but Sherlock goes on before he can say anything.

“You were in a bit of a state,” he says, and he can’t help the fondness that colors his tone.  “Apparently the chip-and-pin machine had been giving you some trouble.”

Realization dawns slowly across the lines of John’s face, first in the widening of his eyes and then in the shaping of his lips into a small “oh.”

“You…that was when you knew?” he asks, and he sounds so disbelieving that Sherlock laughs.

“That was when I began to know, yes.”

John shakes his head slowly, seemingly bewildered.  “But…why?  I was such a grumpy arse that day–”

“It was cute,” Sherlock says before he can stop himself.

John’s eyebrows rise so high on his forehead that Sherlock almost can’t see them beneath his fringe, which is quite a feat considering the length of John’s hair.  Sherlock’s cheeks flood with heat, and when John opens his mouth, presumably to give him the teasing of a lifetime, he glares as fiercely as he can.

“Not.  A.  Word,” he says through his teeth.

John’s mouth shuts with an audible click, but his eyes are wide, and he pulls his lips between his teeth in a clear effort to restrain his laughter.  Sherlock continues to glare at him, but it doesn’t seem to be having any effect whatsoever, and only a few seconds pass before John can no longer contain himself.  He breaks down into uncontrollable giggles, leaning forward to press his forehead to the back of Sherlock’s hand, which he still has a hold on.

Sherlock sighs and falls back against his chair in a dramatic fashion.  “Oh, go on then.”

John shakes his head, still bent double.  “Cute,” he gasps through his laughter. “I didn’t even know you knew that word!”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, but John’s giddiness is infectious, and, try as he might, he can’t quite keep his own face straight.  “Well, you should’ve been recording it because I’m never saying it again,” he says, but the sour effect he’s going for is lost in the twist of his lips.

John straightens up, tugging at Sherlock’s hand insistently.  “Oh, god, c’mere,” he says.  His eyes are damp, and his smile is so huge he can hardly kiss properly, but Sherlock really doesn’t mind, not when John is climbing clumsily into his lap, his hands warm on either side of his face, tilting it back to get better access to his mouth.

“I can’t believe you think I’m cute,” John whispers, and Sherlock pinches his side in retaliation.  John’s answering laugh bubbles up against Sherlock’s mouth, and Sherlock’s hand curls around the back of his skull, holding him there.  John’s lips turn soft and pliant, his smile fading with a soft noise as Sherlock’s tongue slicks into his mouth.

He’s lost in it almost instantly, in the press of John’s body, the heat of his hands through the thin fabric of Sherlock’s shirt, the feeling of John’s hair between his fingers.  His mind goes quiet except for the thought of more, and his hips push up, seeking blindly, wanting

“Mm, wait,” John murmurs, and his hands curl around Sherlock’s shoulders, stilling him.  “Not yet.”

“Hmm?”  His brain is too weighted with lust to say anything more coherent, a fact that would have horrified him only a week ago, before he knew what it felt like to have John Watson in his arms.

John pulls away slightly, sitting back against Sherlock’s thighs.  Sherlock attempts to follow, but John catches his chin in one hand, his thumb sliding across his lower lip, causing tingles to erupt down Sherlock’s spine.

“We had a deal, remember?” John says.  His eyes remain fixed on Sherlock’s mouth for another moment before he lifts them to meet Sherlock’s hooded gaze. “You tell me yours, and I tell you mine.”  He smiles.  “My turn.”


Part One | Part Two

OKAY so that ended up being longer and a bit…more than I meant for it to, but there you have it.  I’d like to go ahead and say that this was rather inspired by @thespiritualmultinerd‘s comment on this post here.  After reading that I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so you have them to thank for this.  :D

I guess there will now be a part three because I can never seem to do anything easily lmao.  Thanks for reading, friends, I hope it was worth the little wait.  <3 Just tags below the cut.  I apologize if I left anyone out.  <3

@hockeybella25 @isitandwonder @astronbookfilms @johnlockerooni @jonhlocks@astudyinsnoggy @one-thousand-leaves @theloneviolin @an-east-wind @hushwatson @lilbeelocked @freebirdflyingforever @perpetuallylostinmyownworld @ouramazingworldofbooks @holmesique @bellarium @highfunctioningfangirl @lediona25 @atypical-snowman @cyn2k @wssh13 @johnlockphanseptipliermkay @joyfulblazestarlightlove @daringlydomestic @smol-owl-bean @cj-holmes @giddystars @anyawen @sherlockisactuallyagirlsname221 @sarzipanbatch @mssmithlove1 @madelinecookie @quirkycinnamon @august-emerald @softhoratio @sherlock-totally-loves-john @lenlaterz @moch-ila @the-hopeless-existentialist @221bbookshelf @pixelpawnie @busybiscute @wiscolina @jazziejexbird @reynardinepttr

Hey so I’m thinking about Kara and M’gann again and I wrote some stuff because goddamn it I am gonna build this city from the ground up if it’s the last thing I do.


strange girls in a strange land

It’s never a secret. For the first time in Kara’s thirteen years on Earth, there’s no great revelation. There isn’t anything to reveal.

This weight that she’s carried with her into every relationship outside the Danvers that she’s ever tried to build since she landed—it suddenly becomes inconsequential, when they’re together. The fact that Kara is Kryptonian, that she is Supergirl. The distinction between Kara Danvers and Kara Zor-El and National City’s resident hero. The deception; the disguise.

There’s no pretense between them, no pretending, no parts to play. They meet in the ring as Supergirl and Miss Martian, and then a few days later Kara Danvers shows up at the alien bar—and M’gann knows. It’s not something she needs to deduce or figure out after they’ve known each other a while. She just looks at Kara and she knows—it’s just a simple unconscious observation, as clear to see as the gold of Kara’s hair or the blue of her eyes.

M’gann slides Kara an Aldebaran rum and Kara doesn’t even realize that she’s still wearing her glasses.

Keep reading

Oh, Baby (Namjoon x Reader) Pt. 16

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [Pt 7] [Pt 8] [Pt 9] [Pt 10] [Pt 11] [Pt 12] [Pt 13] [Pt 14] [Pt 15]

Pairing: Namjoon/Rap Monster x Reader
Rating: M
Genre: Smut/Mafia-ish AU

Words: 4,618

Summary: You were only supposed to have seen him twice. Only twice, no more, but now you’re getting dragged into situations you never wished for and Namjoon just keep showing up.

A/N: Here’s another chapter for you all~ I tried to actually write one in a timely manner this time :p Ahhh…only 4 chapters left. Let’s see how long it takes lmao.

Anyway, enjoy!


Jimin watches from his car as Yoongi rounds the corner and pulls into a parking spot near the edge of the park. A few seconds after parking, Yoongi exits his vehicle—and Jimin can tell that he hasn’t taken his gun.

“Idiot,” he mumbles, his heart aching for a second, yet when Jimin pops open the driver’s door and steps out he also leaves his gun on his passenger seat. Jimin has no intention of hurting Yoongi. Despite how their relationship has changed, there are very few people Jimin would prefer to protect instead of hurt, and Yoongi is one of those people.

Following after Yoongi up the worn down trail, Jimin shoves his hands into his pockets, worry pricking at the back of his mind. He knows that Yoongi is more than likely pissed at him. Yoongi and Namjoon are basically brothers, despite what Yoongi might say, and for Jimin to have been hired to capture Namjoon’s girlfriend of all people…

Even if Yoongi and Jimin had been in love, there’s no easy way to atone for hurting someone who is Yoongi’s only family—and Jimin knows that.

So, for once he’s a little scared. He doesn’t know why Yoongi has called him out here. Maybe it’s a trap and he’s being foolish by agreeing to meet up so easily. Maybe Namjoon is waiting in the bushes ready to stab Jimin in the throat. Jimin doubts it, but…just maybe.

Falling back a little, stepping off the path to rest against a tree, Jimin watches as Yoongi slips into their little grove—the grove they’d always meet at like two teenagers running off to their secret hiding spot in the middle of the night.

Jimin laughs to himself quietly. Yoongi had always hated him making comparisons like that—but Jimin always loved to tease him. It was fun to see Yoongi flustered and smiling. He always blushed and grumbled at the mention of “love”, and never really said it aloud, but Jimin never pushed it.

Their…relationship had been unconventional to say the least. A man for hire and the second in command of a mafia group. Their meeting had been a coincidence at best—two men tiredly saddling up at a bar next to each other—exhausted from the day and needing something to wash the feelings back down.

Alcohol had caused them to…well, Jimin had ended up half naked on Yoongi’s coffee table before the elder had paused at the freshly healed wound on Jimin’s shoulder. A product of someone who had managed a swing at him while he’d been doing his job.

Yoongi had pressed him about his scar, and Jimin had noticed the way he’d tensed—worry and suspicion lingering in his gaze. Yet, the alcohol in Jimin’s system had caused Jimin to wave him off—arms snaking around Yoongi’s neck with the simple excuse of “sometimes I get hurt because of work”.

It hadn’t been until the next time they’d met—Jimin calling Yoongi up asking if he wanted company—that here—in this park, on the bench in this grove—the two had figured out each other’s occupations. Immediately Jimin had pinned Yoongi to the ground, fearful that Yoongi might take him out. He wasn’t exactly an enemy, but he wasn’t an ally either. But…in the end they’d released each other, brushed themselves off, and made a promise. They wouldn’t tell on each other—no one would know about what they had going on besides themselves.

Of course…as things had gotten more serious, Namjoon had noticed a change in Yoongi, and had found out. He hadn’t been happy, but had sucked it up for Yoongi’s sake, since the elder had actually seemed…happy, for once. Yet, even as their relationship had been accepted, they had managed to grow apart. Yoongi had objectives to carry out that required him to be gone for weeks at a time, and Jimin couldn’t just neglect his job and obligations either. Work started to get in the way, and after a time the two had…mutually parted.

Until the day you showed up and ended up causing them to cross paths once again—and in the worst way possible.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jimin says as he stares down at Yoongi sadly, his guard dropped, and heart sullen. Yoongi’s fingers squeeze his waist gently in affirmation, his cheek leaning into Jimin’s palm, and the younger manages a small smile.

“I didn’t think I would end up…I mean…”

“You thought that you’d be able to get in and out without encountering me,” Yoongi surmises for him, laughing bitterly. His eyes open and he meets Jimin’s puppy dog like stare, but Yoongi only continues frowning with brewing anger.

“I saw the look on your face, Minnie, you panicked at the sight of me and almost got us both killed—”

“I mean you didn’t have to chase after me like that—“

“And what? Let you take one of the most precious people in Namjoon’s life?” Yoongi scoffs. Jimin sighs, removing his hand from Yoongi’s cheek and running it through his hair instead.

“You never get attached—I thought you’d just leave it be,” he grumbles, and Yoongi’s frown deepens.

“Hey,” he says in a low tone, his fingers sinking lower on Jimin’s waist, and Jimin peeks at him. Immediately Yoongi is leaning up, nose just inches away from Jimin’s—so close that he can see the younger debating whether to lean into Yoongi or scramble off his lap and run away.

“It’s not a matter of me getting attached—though you and I both know from experience that I have things that are precious to me. It’s a matter of Namjoon’s happiness, and Y/N’s safety. At one point I had you but now Namjoon has her, Minnie, and I know you get what I mean by that.”

“I do—that’s why I feel terrible, hyung,” Jimin sighs again, rolling his head back to glance at the passing clouds, illuminated by the moon. “But Taehyung recommended me to Jeon and if I refused I was sure both Taehyung and he would be suspicious and wondering if I had allegiances—since everyone knows I’m for hire, so…I had to do it.”

“You never have to do anything, Jimin—,” Yoongi begins, and hushes Jimin when he opens his mouth to argue differently. “Though I know you have to make a living, and have to do certain things to stay safe, so I…I can’t be completely pissed at you, but…come to our side, Minnie. Help us,” Yoongi whispers, fingers squeezing Jimin’s waist to express his plea further. Immediately Jimin sighs, his hands moving to grip Yoongi’s, and when he tries to pull the elder’s hands away from him, Yoongi only holds him tighter.

“I know you and you know this is the right thing to do. Please, Jimin.”

“I…what about Taehyung? You know he’s the only one who has had my back for this long, hyung,” Jimin speaks quietly, face still angling towards the sky, unable to meet Yoongi’s begging stare. “Of course I don’t like taking someone innocent like Y/N, and of course I don’t want her to get hurt in the end, but…”

“For what reason is Taehyung even helping Jeon and Jaehyuk?” Yoongi questions, brows furrowing. “Is he just—what?—bored?”

“I…from what he told me Jeon approached him about making a deal, and since Taehyungie didn’t have anything exciting going on at the time, he agreed,” Jimin sighs. “Considering the deal included Y/N into the equation…that perked his interest too. You know, after that time he encountered her at the club.”

Jimin pauses considerately, his lips turning into a frown. “…Taehyungie isn’t good at reading into people’s true feelings, so he probably doesn’t realize how serious Namjoon hyung is about Y/N. He likely doesn’t think that in the end Namjoon will truly be devastated if something happens…”

“So he’s doing it because he’s bored,” Yoongi repeats, humming a little. “What say we explain to Taehyung how serious this all is, and convince him to join our side too? Throw in a little extra reassurance to him that as long as he cooperates with us Namjoon won’t murder him in cold blood.”

Jimin winces at that, and Yoongi shrugs uncaringly.

“He sexually assaulted and drugged Y/N, and is now plotting with her kidnappers. Namjoon has the right to be furious. Just be glad that he let me come talk to you…because when I told him it was you that took Y/N…”

“He probably wanted to throw me out the window of his penthouse, I know,” Jimin grumbles, hands moving to run down his face as he releases a giant sigh. Yoongi knows that this likely isn’t an easy decision for him—even if in Yoongi’s mind joining forces is clearly the right option.

“All I know…,” Jimin begins slowly, eyes finally moving to meet Yoongi’s, “is that Y/N is Namjoon’s bait to attend the ball, and that their plan is to get Namjoon out of the picture.”

Dead, Yoongi surmises, scowling. No way in hell is that happening.

“Jaehyuk will be attending with Y/N as his guest. My guess is that he’ll still be playing the ‘she’s my daughter’ card. Obviously Jeon will be there, considering he’s the one hosting the ball. Taehyung will be there too, to keep an eye out. From what Taehyungie has told me, it’s just the three of them. Jaehyuk will try to keep his head low the entire time, considering he’s rumored to be dead anyway. Jeon will draw attention, and is hoping Namjoon will go after him—that way Taehyung can silently take the shot, and by the time anyone realizes anything, Taehyung will be gone, the weapon will be disposed of, and panic will have displaced the blame away from Jeon.”

“And they just think that this is all going to happen smoothly?”

“Apparently,” Jimin shrugs, and Yoongi breathes a laugh. For a few seconds silence falls between them, and then Yoongi is drawing the younger’s attention once again, his fingers lightly tucking a few strands of hair behind Jimin’s ear.

“Will you help us?”

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Frost (Chapter Thirteen)

Tony solves the “frost” problem so he and Loki can be together, but Loki doesn’t react very well to the whole idea, so there is some angst, and Tony has to lay some tough love (and I don’t mean rough sex lol) on Loki to get him to calm down. And then just the start to some NSFW because you actually have to wait until Fourteen for the smut and I enjoy torturing you!


Let me know what you think :)   (about the chapter, not about me making you wait for smut lol)

Magic number is 170 likes/reblogs and Ill post chapter fourteen today too!

ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS HERE

Enjoy :)
**************

“There’s the prettiest women in the realm.” Tony stood in the doorway of the healing room and sent the women his best smile.

“Anthony.” A slim woman with dark hair nearly to her waist stood and embraced him. “What brings you to the healing chambers? Surely you are not sick?”

Surely you aren’t.” A blonde that barely came to his shoulder had to stand on her absolute tip toes to kiss his cheek, but she did anyway. “We did such a wonderful job this last session with you.”

“You did.” Tony kissed each back, calling a hello to the three other women in the huge room. “But I came to ask a favor, if I could.”

“Of course Anthony.” The blonde led him to a chair and he blushed when her hand lingered on his shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

Tony took a moment to relax into their always unbelievably comfortable chairs, to glance around the calming space that smelled of lavender and something sweet. The healers themselves were old enough that even Thor called them ancient, though they were all shockingly beautiful and looked no older than their mid twenties. Tony had enjoyed the weeks he had spent in their company as they healed his body, and they had enjoyed his charm and wit and easy flirtations as they worked.

“I need a spell or a potion or something magic that only you beauties would know.” Tony began, and grinned when they all giggled. Just lovely, lovely women. “I need something to protect me from Loki’s frost giant form.”

“Oh.” Soft, concerned murmurs, and one of the women in the corner made her way over.

“You have been threatened, Sir Anthony?”

“Nothing like that.” Tony cleared his throat. “I would just rather not be… frozen when he and I are close.”

“I see.” She tapped her upper lip thoughtfully. “Something that simply protects you, and does not interfere with more pleasurable pursuits.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Tony clasped his hands over his heart dramatically. “Please. If you would.”

“I would very pleased to help.” She was already moving, gathering supplies, and Tony kicked himself for not remembering their names, especially now when he very well could have written her poems of thanks. But in his defense, being ancient came along with names no one could pronounce anymore, so he supposed it wasn’t his fault.

“You are very special to us, do you realize?” A fourth woman asked, this one a red head with curls down to her shoulders. “The one chosen for both Our King and Our Prince. The tales of the chosen Hjartslattur were old even when we came to be.”

“Really?” Tony blinked at her and she smiled.

“Of course. We have long waited to meet you. And when you came to us so broken we were afraid… afraid that we were not strong enough to help you.”

“Terrified, really.” Another chimed in. “Thank the gods you healed.”

“Yes.” The one mixing the potion brought it to him in a delicate crystal bottle, with words written out on the tag she attached. “You healed and now are fulfilling the hjartslattur bond and it is wonderful.”

“This, before midnight, and the spell three times.” she instructed and Tony raised his eyebrows.

“Every day?”

“Just the once.” She looked at him disapprovingly. “What sort of healer would I be if my spells and charms only worked once?”

Most would call you a sorceress.” Tony teased and she bent to kiss his forehead.

Most would be correct. Now go. Take it before midnight tonight.”

“Thank you.” Tony bowed low, and blew kisses just to make them all giggle and went on his way.

Really, just the loveliest ladies.

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About Natsu's (lack of) character arc

So, there are a lot of posts criticizing Fairy Tail thanks to this recent arc. I’m sure there’s someone out there talking about this exact same issue, but I admit I haven’t found that person yet… And in any case, I want to say my own piece about this subject. It’s been awhile since I wrote some sort of analysis here, but this is probably going to be long anyway.

I want to clarify something: I’m trying to be objective here. While my opinions and tastes will show up, what I’m going to focus here is on writing and structure. I want to talk about why Mashima’s writing is so ineffective lately, and why so many people call Natsu a Mary Sue or plainly dislike him. I’m not here to defend Natsu; I love him, sure, but he’s been a victim of terrible, awful writing. I 100% understand why people dislike him or even hate him. They have VERY good reasons to do so. What I want to do is explain why this happens.

Alright, now let’s start.

→ Inability to change.

At the start of the latest time skip I saw the first sign that I should drop any tiny bit of hope that I had for Natsu’s character. I was stupid and I kept that hope alive, sadly, but I really should’ve seen it coming.

Remember when he came back of the one-year-trip he took after Igneel’s death? How he had his long hair, and many people wanted him to keep it that way, but in the next chapter he came back to his usual look? 

It may seem silly, but to me this was a sign of a bigger problem. Usually, when there’s a time skip it’s expected that character designs change. Not only because it keeps things interesting, but also because people change with time. A change in design tends to reflect this. And I know it sounds stupid to worry about something so “insignificant”, but remember: manga is a visual medium just as much as it is a written one. Visual elements are as important here to tell the story as any other. For example: Lucy, the character who’s allowed to change the most throughout the story, gets a slight change in her design after this time skip. By contrast, Natsu doesn’t.

Following that small sign, we discover that Natsu’s personality hasn’t changed. Like, at all. A year has passed, and he hasn’t changed. Worse than that: He lost Igneel. And. He. Hasn’t. Changed. At. All.

Natsu’s motivation was established in the beginning of the manga: He wanted to find his adoptive father, Igneel, after he disappeared 7 years prior to the start of the story. That motivation was fulfilled in the Tartaros’ arc, followed by Igneel’s death. In one day, Natsu fulfilled a dream he spent seven years (or fourteen, I guess) pursuing… and then he had to see one of his worst fears come true. This is a pretty big thing for any person, but it’s also the culmination for a character arc. The character is at his lowest point, so he’s forced to grow in some way (whether it’s positive or negative).

But… we don’t see Natsu grow. Sure, we see him grieve for… a couple of panels, but that’s all. The chapter before the time skip, we see Natsu smiling and barely reacting to what happened, besides deciding that he has to become stronger. 

We don’t get much insight into him. And after that? A year passes and we don’t get to see Natsu’s struggles or his process of growth. What’s worse: when he comes back, he’s acting like he always acted. And there’s no insight that shows us that no, he changed, he’s just ACTING. We have nothing like that, he just… got better. And we don’t get to see it.

Look, this isn’t about his coping mechanisms or anything. It’s not about whether a person, in real life, can go through a situation like that and appear unchanged by all that happened. No, this is about the writing choices made for a character being utterly ineffective and incompetent. It’s not like we need much, honestly. We don’t need to have Natsu ranting in his thoughts about all the suffering he went through and how he changed. Small changes would’ve been enough. Maybe having Natsu smiling less, or showing sad smiles. Or maybe have him lose some of his will for fighting, at least when it comes to the reckless fights he does for fun. Those things are small, but they are effective.

But, what is Natsu’s character arc anyway? What did Mashima intend for him at the beginning of the story (or what he seemed to intend)? In my opinion, there are two major themes to what should’ve been Natsu’s character arc: Choosing between Igneel and Fairy Tail, and learning to deal with loss. Both of these themes should’ve culminated at the end of the Tartaros arc, but Mashima accidentally destroyed all the moments that lead to this.

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Café Cram

H2OVanoss Coffee Shop AU because there will never be enough of them. Enjoy!


There were two times that the palpable excitement filled the air of the small campus; the day the college students moved in, and the day they left. It was the blissful moments before the stress of classes began, or the relief that the weight of thesi, assignments, and projects had been lifted off of their shoulders.

Evan Fong had just moved into an apartment right off of campus with his two best friends. It was his senior year, the last year before he received his degree and was sent off without a paddle into the real world. And while it was a terrifying thought, Evan couldn’t wait to really start his life.

His roommate, Tyler, was waiting for him outside of the only café on campus. Café Cram, affectionately known as The Cram, was notorious for their late hours and strong coffee. Students flocked to the small shop for an early morning pick up, or a late night caffeine rush before one of many all nighters they would pull that semester. Evan was a frequent customer, his caffeine addiction solely credited as the only thing that had gotten him through the past three years.

Tyler greeted him warmly, pulling him into a hug and patting his back firmly. “Get everything unpacked?”

Evan nodded as he held the door open for his friend. “Mostly. Just have to organize my clothes.” They stood in the already sizable line of students waiting to order. “The rest of my stuff should be here in a few days.”

“I can’t believe we’re graduating this year.” Tyler shook his head solemnly. “We’re gonna have to get big boy jobs.”

“Lucky for the both of you, I have a big boy job.” A bespectacled man rushed past them, delivering coffee to the tables around the room. When he came back their way, he kissed Tyler and headed back behind the counter.

“Barista is not a big boy job, Craig!” He called after him.

The man glared at his two friends and roommates before returning his attention to the cappuccino he was making.

Behind the register was a new man that Evan had never seen on campus before. The college was small, a private university on the outskirts of Los Angeles with less than two thousand students, so everyone either knew each other, or of each other. He was tall and thin, his face hidden by the brim of his uniform hat as he bowed down over the machine.

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thevampireauthoress  asked:

I live in a country where guns have to be licensed and therefore I cannot get hold of one to experience this myself, but how does it feel to hold in your hand/s? What is it made of? Does it get warm under your touch or does it remain chill? How does it feel to know that you have a machine of death in your hands, or do you get so used to it you do not think about it? I'm not really sure about what type of guns I'm using in my story so any information you can give me is so, so helpful!!!

Just so you understand the sort of mentality you’re dealing with, hubby and I found your description highly amusing at first, and at first I treated it like a joke, and I realized after the fact how tasteless that response is. We’re jaded to the seriousness of guns; that’s the attitude you’re looking to replicate.

We make a habit of calling them “weapons,” not “guns.” We’ll usually get chewed out if we just call them guns, though if we use the proper term for the weapon (rifle, pistol, etc) that’s usually acceptable.

As far as technical info goes, here’s an excerpt from the Wiki page on M16s:
The M16 is a lightweight, 5.56 mm, air-cooled, gas-operated, magazine-fed assault rifle, with a rotating bolt. The M16’s receivers are made of 7075 aluminum alloy, its barrel, bolt, and bolt carrier of steel, and its handguards, pistol grip, and buttstock of plastics.

5.56 is the standard round (and we call them rounds, not bullets; the bullet is the tip of the round and the casing/shell is the rest of it) for M16, M4, and M249, the weapons most commonly assigned to enlisted. We have to walk around and pick up the shells if we’re firing our weapons at a range. 

Me and hubby agree that holding a weapon for the first time is surprisingly uneventful. It feels the same as if someone had put a hammer or a crowbar in your hand for the first time. Guns in American culture are so prevalent that when you’re younger they seem benign and of no great consequence. This is with me coming from a gunless background and hubby having some experience with weapons prior to joining. After a while it does completely stop dawning on you that the contraption you’re holding is a deadly weapon and most people would be unnerved to see them. 

We mostly only have weapons on us during basic training, during a field exercise, and during deployment, and during deployment your weapon might very well be locked up for a part of it if you aren’t deployed to a combat zone. There’s no real reason to just lug around a rifle around during a normal work day. So in actuality, I probably spent less than 25% of my time in the army with an actual weapon. 

Our weapons are made with metals (and some parts plastic) and due to Science metal does tend to get warm when held, yes. They can of course be hot or cold given the environment. It’s dreadfully unpleasant to hold them without gloves in the snow, especially when your fingers start going numb and you’re not 100% sure you’ve got an adequate grip on it. They reek of CLP and metal and they leave a lasting smell on your hands, more so if you’ve been firing.

CLP of course being Cleaner, Lubricant, and Protectant, basically just a lubricating oil we use on our weapons to ensure all the parts are moving smoothly so it hopefully doesn’t jam. A lot of people will literally pour CLP on their weapons and they just drench the poor thing and you don’t need that, folks. Just a few drops will usually do as long as you’re maintaining it regularly.

I preferred pistols over rifles. I enjoyed taking them apart more and shooting with them, but I only ever got to do that once or twice as a for-fun thing because only our officers used the M9. 

Lucky for me I was assigned an M249 during three of my four years. Typically only one person per squad has a 249, so there’s only ever maybe four or five people per platoon with one, maybe 15-20 per company.

It’s classified as a “light machine gun,” but it’s still over twice as heavy as the M16 and required belts of ammo that were a pain to carry around. While everyone else could just prop up their weapon where convenient, the 249 needs to be set up with its stupid little tripod and then sit on the ground and be a tripping hazard until you pick it up again. It fires at a much higher rate than the m16, (I mean, it’s a machine gun) so for a fellow who depends on prescription eyeglasses (such as myself) it can become impossible to shoot because the damn thing sends up so much smoke and fog that it renders lenses useless. I also remember one time we were instructed to sling while marching and I fucked up and loosened up my sling on accident and I couldn’t stop and fix it or unsling it because slinged weapons was the directive and we were on uneven terrain and I wound up walking with that bastard for two miles with it bouncing against me every now and then. I had bruises all up and down my front. I hated that thing; it was an inconvenience and an annoyance. Could not have been happier when I finally got an M16. 

Speaking of slinging the weapon, we generally don’t sling it to our backs unless we’re carrying something or doing some other task that requires full use of our arms. Otherwise we hold it in the “low ready,” with the weapon pointing toward the ground and away from people.

Having our weapon around is pretty much second nature. Maintaining our arms is of utmost importance, some would say over maintaining ourselves. Some will choose to clean their weapon over cleaning themselves. We memorize the serial numbers and carry them with us everywhere unless we can physically lock them up. Leaving an unattended weapon is a serious issue. We also clean them regularly, sometimes multiple times a day if the weapons have been in a compromising environment i.e. we’ve been crawling through sand or something. Dropping your weapon is pretty much blasphemous and will reward you with several push ups if anyone sees. Some people were just Extra and if they dropped their weapon and there was no one around to punish them, they’d punish themselves because they disrespected their weapon ors.

Flagging is usually taken very seriously, although there have been occasions where I’ve seen someone get more chewed out for dropping the weapon than for flagging someone, which I think is steaming bull shit tbqh. We’re taught to NEVER, EVER point a weapon at someone, even in jest, so of course it never happens, ever, because we totally follow instructions at all times, completely and unsarcastically. 

I can say that having left the army, hubby is still a fan of guns and he and his best friend go to the shooting range occasionally, but I am rather firmly pro gun control so I never really see/use them anymore. So all sorts can go in and come out of the army and how each person feels about weapons will be unique, but generally while we’re in, they’re an extension of ourselves and a soldier’s most important asset.

And to sum up, there’s usually three types of gun people in the army:

1) I have a gun. Cool I guess. (most common imo)
2) I have a 5.56 mm, air-cooled, gas-operated, magazine-fed assault rifle, with a rotating bolt which was implemented into service in 1964 to replace the Garand, Carbine, and Browning with a maximum firing range of 3,600 meters and an effective firing range of 550 meters. 
3) I don’t actually know shit about guns but I really want to be macho and impress people so I pretend to be knowledgeable and make a fool out of myself while annoying everyone around me.

-Kingsley

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For You / Ieyasu x MC

Week 2

Tuesday

Whenever she asked him questions about himself, he always felt something cold move across him, as if he were iced from the inside, his organs and nerves being protected by a sheath of frost. In that moment, though, when the words slipped past her lips, he thought he might break, that if he said anything the ice would shatter and he would splinter and crack. So he waited until his voice sounded normal before he let the words fly:

“No,” he sneered, “I don’t need you anymore tonight. Or any other night. Know your place, kitchen wench.”

She took a long time to respond. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, milord,” she said, quietly, and though he didn’t look at her, staring hard at his book, he had felt her eyes on him the whole way, bearing down and heavy, until the moment she passed through his door and melted into the night.

The problem was that she was greedy for information: she wanted to know how he had been raised, and if he had any siblings, and who his friends were, true friends, and whether he preferred one flavour over another. And sometimes the air grew so hot not only with the questions she was asking, but the manner in which they were asked — honest, guileless and a little too foolish for a cook from Kyoto — that he felt strangled by their weight and frequency and inevitability.

She wanted to know so much; she wanted so many answers. And he understood it, he did— he wanted answers, too. He wanted to know everything about her as well, but while she had made her intention as clear as an arrow’s twang, he couldn’t bring himself to reciprocate, in part because of who he was, who he was meant to be, but also because he wasn’t sure whether it was worth the endeavour. If she was worth the effort.

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Mariana Trench

Prompt: Three times Michael has lied to either Gavin or Ryan for the wrong reasons, and one time he did it for the right ones. (GTA mavinwood)

For Olivia - thank you so much for all your support <3 <3

1.

Michael’s in too deep before he even knows it.

It starts in a club the night after their first successful heist as a full crew, a motley assortment of bounty hunters, hit men and vagabonds that Ramsey pulled together from fucking Craigslist, beggars with big dreams who all have just a touch of eccentricity to them. Enough to make things work.

It’s the most fun he’s had in years. He’s known these men seventy-two hours but they feel as close as family already.

Well, maybe not quite like family, because the three of them have wandered away from the rest of the group to sit together at a booth close to the dance floor, and if they were family he wouldn’t be noticing how nice Ryan’s lips look as he lifts his glass to drink, or how the colourful lights flicker across Gavin’s skin so prettily, how good they look sitting side by side - Gavin latched himself to Ryan early on, like a little golden bird perched on the back of a huge dark-haired wolf - now their shoulders brush, they’re sat so close, and Gavin’s fingers trail across Ryan’s wrist to get his attention. Michael can’t stop thinking about how well he’d fit between the two of them.

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Battleground Bruises

Request: Hey! I was wondering if you could a Newt x reader where she is injured really badly after a some battle and tries to hide it from the squad because doesn’t want them to worry but later on passes out in front of Newt because of the blood loss? In other words a lot of angst but fluffy and cuddly happy ending!:) 

Word Count: 3,462

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in


Everyone quiets when you enter Tina’s kitchen, trundling in with a giant bag.

“What’s this about a lead?”

Newt jumps to answer. “Nothing that should concern you, love.”

You drop the bag full of groceries you’d bought onto the counter and spin around, leaning back and crossing your arms. “And yet, it does.”

He shifts from foot to foot before he sighs. “There are rumors that Grindelwald was spotted in Kentucky. We aren’t sure, so there’s no need to come along.”

“I want to.”

An awkward silence stretches one minute, then two as everyone looks at everyone else. Only you and Newt maintain any sort of eye contact. You are not going to let him leave you behind.

He rubs the back of his neck, aware of your stubborn side. “Could we speak in another room?” Without waiting for an answer, he steps forward and links his fingers with yours. You follow him down the hall and into his room. He shuts the door and faces you, taking in your slight frown.

“I know you want to come along-”

You don’t let Newt finish his excuse. “Did they find signs of Grindelwald?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Then I’m coming.”

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tiny-space-child  asked:

I'm so sorry I just scrolled through the entire SDM AU tag and I live for this AU now PLEASE TELL ME MORE

i have been meaning to answer this for MONTHS (literal months, xkit says you sent this 15 november…..oops)

im cold rn, so here are some temperature related things

  • the heater literally never turns off. 30 celsius outside with 100% humidity? oh well, the heat’s still on! heat stroke on the job????? who cares/???? fuck you and fuck your comrfort,
  • now for most of them it’s not so bad because they have t-shirt uniforms, and the front tills are nearer the freezers, but lance literally has to  wear this heavy black blazer and is furthest from the freezers and there are also the really warm lights on all the displays
  • and you can bet your ass he bitches about it at any given opportunity.
    • coran over the phone: hullo lance, i got an order in for ya, want me to bring it out? :-{D
    • lance, sprawling across the counter dramatically: is it an order of ice cubes that i can put in my shirt because if not then NO i dont want your DUMB ORDER
    • coran: lance please it’s an important order.
    • lance: o.
    • coran: im bringing it. 
    • lance: …….if you must
      • can you tell how salty i am about this situation which i deal with on a Daily Basis
  • everyone and their grandmother have complained to shiro about the furnace in the summertime
    • “IM MELTING MY MAKEUP IS JUST FUCKING OOZING OFF MY FACE”
    • “invest in a better setting spray.”
    • “RUDE”
    • pidge, standing flush against the freezers: “turn the heat down or i’ll kill myself”
    • shiro, sighing: “i can’t, it’s head office. you know this. and you say that for any minor inconvenience, i can’t take you seriously. you said you’d kill yourself if you ever have to count money again, which is your job. in case you forgot”
    • “i’m jumping off the roof tell matt i love him and that i stole the last of his animal crackers”
  • the only place the temperature is normal is in allura’s office. only she, coran, and shiro are allowed in there. they’re all super smug.
    • pidge is ready to fight all three of them at once
    • keith steals shiro’s snacks at home as payback
    • lance and hunk purposely be super annoying over the intercom. “TAKASHI call extension 2-5-BETRAYAL!”
      • they’re all children
  • in the wintertime when it’s like negative goddamn forty, hunk will literally go outside to get the carts or put out the garbage with like, a hoodie on, if that. no one understands how he does it. 
  • lance tells everyone that hunk is a superhero. hunk does not argue and nods solemnly
  • keith, who hates the cold but somehow manages to always be cold, is very jealous bc like, there he is wearing a long sleeved shirt underneath his uniform with a cashier sweater overtop…and he’s still cold.
    • hunk notices this one day. he sees keith standing at his cash huddling close to the machine for warmth and immediately his heart melts and he walks over to keith and just opens his arms
    • and keith stares at him like “what”
    • and hunk is like “come on man HIT ME with those GOOD HUGS” and just swoops keith into a huge warm tight hug and keith is shook, but also hunk is very warm and cuddly so he just accepts it
    • this is a common occurrence
    • lance is jealous
    • “hunk, my man… STOP stealing my boyfriend.”
    • “it’s not my fault he likes me more than you.”
    • “that’s– ridiculous! no he doesn’t!”
    • “yeah actually i like hunk better”
    • “i cant believe this”
even underneath the waves, i’ll be holding on to you

aftg zombie au, “i want to go back for you”. warning: very long
basically, what would happen if neil and andrew were separated during an apocalypic situation.


The news says it first.

The world is ending and everything has gone to shit.

Nowhere is safe and nothing is okay anymore.

Nothing was ever okay, but they make it sound new, like this is something nobody expected to happen. Not here, never here.

It started with a virus. It was like the flu in every other way; the fever that kept people bedridden for days, the sickness and the headaches. It was like the flu in every other way but one: it slowly ate away at people’s insides, made living people into nothing but hollow hosts. Nobody would have expected a kindergarten teacher from the West to lash out her students but it was even worse when she bit one, and then he bit his mother three weeks later and she bit her boss. Like that, the vicious cycle continued. Everywhere there was panic, there was a disaster, there was death.

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CREATURE FEAR (chapter 1/?) | ice, circa season 10 | s/o to the wonderful @kateyes224 for her word prompt(s) | see ao3 for a/n 

summary: Welcome to the top of the world. Please enjoy your stay.

This is their glacial thaw in the modern era. It is D.C. spring and his feet up on the office desk despite the protest of his knees. He smiles when she knocks on the open office door before coming in. 

This the ironically earth-bound slowness of them. She’s balancing coffee with one hand and deleting emails with another. The basement is losing its bleached smell, or she’s becoming accustomed to it. It used to matter to her, the difference between real change and careful self-delusion. Now, she breathes in deep.

“The world is melting, Scully.”

Monday morning, and he’s armed with the apocalypse.

“I watch CNN,” she says. “But good morning to you, too.”

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Time Travel (Part 5)

Summary: Y/N stays the night with Philip and things get steamy.

Pairing: Philip x reader

Warnings: SMUT LIKE SERIOUSLY THIS IS ALL SMUT NO PLOT JUST SMUT, language

Word count: 1,396 words

A/N: This is my first smut so if it’s not good I’m sorry. It’s as good as an ace girl can get it

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4


After some awkward attempts at conversation and figuring out what was okay and what wasn’t, you were lying in Philip’s bed, wrapped in both his dark blankets and his arms.

“You’re still shaking,” Philip said from behind you, leaning on his elbow so he could look down at you. You met his worried eyes.

“I can’t stop. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Philip was quiet for a second before his plump lips drew back into a smirk, his hold tightening on your waist. His long fingers gripped your nightdress and rolled you onto your back so you could look up at him.

“Maybe,” Philip said, his voice dropping low, “I could help you calm down.” Philip attached his lips to your neck, gently nipping and licking his way up to the place below your ear.

“Philip,” you moaned, your eyes fluttering closed, “what are you doing?”

“Distracting you,” his voice vibrated against your neck.

“Yes you are,” was all you could say and Philip chuckled before placing his lips on yours.

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Shadowhunters are racist.

Shadowhunters hate downworlders because of their demon blood.

Shadowhunters used to take a warlock’s mark as a trophy. Magnus’ eyes we all love so much? Taken. Displayed maybe. A trophy for having killed a powerful warlock.

Like.

Valentine isn’t the only racist or the only zealot. The difference between him and the Clave is that he admits what he is and what he thinks about the downworlders.

Stop acting like the shadowhunters, as a whole, are the good guys. They aren’t. They’re complicit in all of Valentine’s crimes. Our main three might be trying to be better, might be a bit more aware of how things are, but they’re still racist.

Clary is a shadowhunter for about two weeks and she’s calling the downworlder’s entrance into the City of Bones the “servants entrance”, immediately seeing the downworlders as servants of shadowhunters.

Luke’s entire family disowned him for becoming a werewolf even though he was attacked by his own parabatai.

Izzy’s dog comment to the werewolves.

Shadowhunters are inherently racist because they grow up and learn and develop within these racist and bigoted societies. Even though ours are trying to be better, they are still part of the problem.

So how can you know all this and still think Magnus’ state of mind is just about he and Alec. How can you think any of the decisions he’s making right now are because of Alec. He’s angry, he’s been angry for a very long time. His entire race could be wiped out- several races, really- and the Clave isn’t doing shit. They’re lying and trying to save themselves. Magnus is tired of his people being treated this way.

But like honestly do you need to know more than that shadowhunters took warlock marks as trophies? Like they literally view them as animals?????