#I don’t want to see it. put a helmet on that thang

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

I used to want to fuck Gabriel as a joke but it's genuinely starting to consume me, why the fuck is the slutty angel this hot gang, I don't get it. I wanna kiss him sloppy style

This image applies to helmets as well. Get in there and start suckig‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Cough.

Anyway. I would assume the appeal for most hm.. normal people,, is that he’s a mega sub. Who said that.

But he’s also, at least from v1s pov, very large.. and yes I know the in game sizes aren’t canon but big gabe is real to me. I would assume this also appeals to many 🤔

Cough. And for the fweaks (me and im sure many others) not only is he a mega sub, he’s also a masochist. Keep throwing rocks at him for enrichment.(he loves it)

And for the REAL FWEAKS aka people with the highest level of Taste: he is wearing armor and isn’t human

But im biased as a tin can enjoyer (characters made of metal or covered in metal) and faceless character enthusiast. Everything else is just a bonus for me 😏 no face is all I need.

[applesfallingfromblondehair]

First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Hey @dauntlessdiva, thanks for the tag and the love on my work! ❤️❤️ I don’t usually do these, but I loved having to go back and reread my writing for the past year or so.

Have this pic of the boys for the road, and let’s go. Here are my last 20:

1. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…” Taron pauses. Closes his eyes. Breathes in, then out. “…that I really don’t think you should come here.”

Silence, for a few seconds. Thick, insufferable silence. “T. C’mon, don’t tell me it’s because—”

“Yes,” Taron cuts him off brusquely, hugging his knees to his chest and shaking his head lightly. “Yes, Richard, it’s because of him. Of course it is.” You idiot. - a change of heart

2. Rob. The last time it happened, it was with Rob.

Rob was 36, fragile like blown glass, and, if one believed British tabloids, Gary’s ‘former worst enemy’.

Rob was already seeing Ayda, but Ayda understood: it wasn’t just sex, it was atonement. Redemption. Love, blooming out of hate. Hate that, really, wasn't ever even there in the first place. That's what he told Rob, after the first time, and after the few times that followed.

“I never hated you.” - boys go crazy over you

3. Wait for me, Patroclus.

I see him wave off the servant proffering his breakfast tray, like he has done every day since Hector struck me at the Scaean Gate.

I see him pick up his spear. I see him get his helmet on—just the helmet, not the rest of his armour, that ornate breastplate and those sturdy greaves and that thick, impenetrable shield, forged by Hephaistos himself, now lying in a corner of our tent, a thick layer of dust and sand gathering on top of it. I see him stride out to kill more Trojans.

He is weak now. It has been ten days, and he is weak. - wait for me in the sky

4. “A joint mission, guv?” Eggsy exclaims, incredulous. “Are you sending me on a fuckin’ babysitting job, Merlin?”

“Nothing of the sort, Galahad. It’s merely for logistical reasons—Clansman are short on resources at present, and they want one of ours in the field to assist with one of their high profile missions.”

“Clansman,” Tequila mutters, under his breath. “Sweet fancy Moses on buttered toast, I’ll never get used to that being a real thang.” - Kingsman: The Highlands Liaison (co-written with my dear @misslittlefreckles 💗)

5. “Alright then, Taron. Good talking to you, mate.”

They’ve only been on the phone about… Taron glances at the clock on his screen. Six minutes. “Yeah, you as well, Dad.”

“Oh and, you know, happy Christmas and all that.”

Taron answers, says something back, does his usual “love you” that goes unreturned, that’s standard, but what he’s thinking the whole time is It’s December 1st. He said happy Christmas. Is this the only time he plans to talk to me all month? - Can't Stop Christmas (aka The Magnum Opus™, co-written with my darling @its-a-soft-science ❤️)

6. “Alright, today’s the day.”

Taron makes his declaration at 10 in the morning, a little while after breakfast. Richard is reclining on the bed, mercilessly bending the creased paperback spine of From Russia With Love. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond.

It’s been a beautiful morning; an early breakfast in bed, slowly getting dressed but then lounging about doing nothing much, commenting on Jack’s stories with stupid filters, occasionally trying to snuggle under Richard’s arm and interfere with his reading. Just a regular Saturday. - #choosefuture (also co-written with @its-a-soft-science)

7. It really is the most beautiful pen he’s ever owned, Taron thinks, as he puts the finishing touches to the drawing he’s been hard at work on for five full minutes. It’s a dick. Just a dick. That has somehow just come out of a Montblanc pen. God, he loves his new gig. He almost wants to post the drawing on Instagram, to flex a bit. You know. #providedby. #whatmovesyoumakesyou. Except, this is exactly the sort of thing Hugh has advised him against. Thank goodness for mentorship. - #whatmovesyoumakesyou (you guessed it, it's another collab with my fave @its-a-soft-science)

8. “Oi, Ashley!” says Stu, “Head out of the Year’s Hottest Firefighters calendar, yeah? We have an actual fire we’re s’posed to attend.”

Ashley regretfully folds Mr July away — nicely built, just a little sweaty, charcoal down one cheek for effect. “Never know yer luck in a big city, eh?”

“You wish,” says Rachid, as he swings into the back of the rig.

Ashley straps in and nods at him as Stu flicks on the siren. “I do, son. Every night, on my knees next to my bed. I wish and wish and wish, but so far, no luck.” - Dial 999, I'm on fire (technically, 98% of this, the aforementioned bit included, is not mine: all kudos should go to @mordwen)

9. It starts one afternoon in April.

Taron’s just out of a steaming shower that smells like the South of France—rose and lavender and a touch of honey—and the podcast he’s been listening to lately, that was on for the duration of his time under the spray, cuts off; his phone starts insolently vibrating on the side of the sink.

Still naked and dripping, he scrambles for a towel to avoid making a mess in the small bathroom. Then, with his feet firmly planted on the shower carpet, he shimmies from the shower to the sink to check who’s calling.

It’s number he doesn’t know, but he still picks it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, you.”

(The prefix might say Murica, but the voice at the end of the line quite unmistakeably spells out Caledonia.) - love it if we made it (aka: my Quarantine Masterpiece)

10. Richard hasn’t even been thinking about it. Not at all, in fact. He’s just let himself get lost in an enjoyable routine, mainly consisting of heeled boots, sharp suits and wigs—in short, the intoxicating euphoria of doing his job and doing it well.

Late nights. Castmates. Happy hours.

And Taron, of course.

Taron.

On set. Off set. Sat in front of him in crowded bars. Pinned against the door of his trailer. Naked between his sheets. - where we're going

11. 8:30 PM. His room at Chateau Marmont. Three vodka-tonics, and an ache in his gut.

Useless.

He’s been on edge all day.

Press. Two screenings. Q&As with adoring fans. Dexter looking at him inquiringly when they headed out for a Starbucks and his face—his mask—dropped.

He must have let that side of him peek through. The one that threatens to explode any minute of any day, lately. Neurotic Taron, normally locked in the basement of his brain, out for his hour of yard time. He hates letting him out. - 4AM in London

12. “Everything’s closed, now, eh?” Richard prompts, nodding in the general direction of Boris on the telly.

“’parently so,” Taron replies, taking a generous swig of his beer. He wishes the telly was off already.

“Emilia texted in the groupchat—theatre’s done for. For the next three months at least. S’pose it makes sense.”

“It does, but that still fucking blows, love. I know how much you were looking forward to that. Are they cancelling the show altogether or just pushing it?”

“God knows,” Richard replies, eyes to his phone, blue light from the screen hitting his beautiful features. Three-day old stubble. His nose. Mmh. “But hey, they just announced that Chalamet’s gig is definitely still happening, when this is all over. There’s that, at least.” He looks up. Smiles wickedly.

Taron scoffs, blowing air inside the neck of his bottle. Grins. “Glad you’ll still get your yearly dose of twink, darling,” he says, sardonically. “Still think he’s too young for you. Then again, you do have a type.” - sometimes, just sometimes (aka: the one that I regret writing)

13. Taron is grocery shopping at Marks & Spencer’s when he spots them. An array of cans. Eye-catching, bright colours and more understated, hip hues of metals and pastels, sitting in the refrigerated beverages section. Among them, the loud, emerald green one that brings about a tsunami of memories. The very same gin-in-a-tin that Richard brought to his trailer that first night during filming, that night when—

He doesn’t even ring him. Picks up four cans and a bottle of red. Tries not to linger over the Percy Pigs next to the self-service tills. Ends up buying two packs, because there’s an offer on—which is the same as usual, to be fair, but shut up. Pays, flies out of the store and back to his car. Puts on some old Ed Sheeran while he drives. That album that makes him think of the summer of 2014 and filming Kingsman. - when you're with me, no judgement

14. The first time it happens, the sky is cloudless and dark, and everything is still. The courtyards and the grounds of Winterfell are silent, calm, immovable. The moon is high, and it is full. Every strand of grass in the surrounding fields and every thick, humid lumber from the endless piles all around the castle is bathing in the silver sheen that she shines on all men. - how easy you are to need

15. From the first fitting at MacGregor and MacDuff’s, it’s clear to Taron that it’s not just about the outfits.

It’s not just because they’re the best kiltmakers in town. It’s not about the tasteful blue and green with strands of real fucking silver thread that Richard chooses as his signature tartan colours. It’s not about the hilt of his new sgian, his dad’s wedding present—a silver and onyx Lion Rampant—peeking proudly from Richard’s sock, its shiny ruby eyes somehow managing to blind Taron from across the room.

It’s not just the tight brogue and the ridiculous amount of Gaelic he hears when he’s hanging out with Richard’s clique of childhood friends and school mates from the Conservatory—which he adores, and which never fails to make him weak at the knees.

It’s not even just about the sun going down on a bottle of eighteen-year-old Scotch and four dram glasses in the garden of Dick and Pat Madden’s country house one late night in early June, when days are longest and when Scotland is somehow clement even temperature-wise.

For Taron, it’s really all about the look in Richard’s eyes when he’s in Glasgow. There’s a glint in that gaze of bluest blue, clear as the sky over the River Clyde when winds are fast and the current is roaring. - there's nowhere compares tae my hometown (aka: a wedding planning fic for which I was planning to write a sequel, but never actually managed to get it out)

16. Just off a plane from LA and away from the champagne glitz of the Golden Globes—he went there to see someone else win an award he was nominated for, and there’s no way in the world he’s going back in two weeks for the SAG Awards, thank you very much—Kit’s phone starts buzzing uncontrollably.

Three voice messages, fourteen SMS, five e-mails and, when he gets home, an actual fucking letter in his actual fucking mailbox informing him that he and the Eternals gang will be filming on location in London for ten consecutive nights, starting next week on Thursday. It’s unusual that he would get the same piece of information via so many different outlets—but then it is a Monday afternoon in the middle of filming a colossal movie for bloody Disney, so it feels like the whole extra element of it is, what, justified? Maybe. Maybe it is. - I could get used to having you around (aka: part 2 of--see number 17)

17. Come to set, Richard texts him one morning, as he’s grinding the beans for his morning coffee. He smiles down at the phone, closes his eyes, and indulges himself picturing what that could look like.

Warm weather, white sand, pink sunsets.

Driving a convertible or, better yet, a Jeep Wrangler with the top off.

Wind in his hair, sun on his skin.

Endless nights in trailers.

Salty kisses.

Ugh, get a fucking grip.

Another text comes in. Come see me. Please, Kit, please. - we were too young to know we had everything

18. They’ve just had to stand in a line like a bunch of trained dogs and smile politely and make empty conversation with the Prince of fucking Wales and the Duchess of fucking Cornwall, and Richard has had just about enough of this evening, thank you very much.

He eyes Mark imploringly, waits for him to mouth go on, then, and finally gets out into the chilly London air with his lighter and his Camels and—fuck, it’s freezing, how was this a good idea again?

Ah, nevermind. He’s out now. Might as well make the most of it. - hold your head in deep devotion (aka: Richard Madden has the hots for Andrew Scott, loosely based on my own Hot Priest phase back in 2019 and tightly based on them looking like hot pieces of ass at the 1917 London premiere)

19. "Oh, c'mon, T, it's not that bad!"

"Are you kidding me? It's so steep!"

Richard shrugs, and he pokes Taron's thigh with his walking stick.

"It's only a couple of hours, darling. C'mon, we'll fall behind!" - ho, mo leannan bhoidheach (aka: the one I wrote on my phone in Glasgow, because I'd gone hiking around Loch Lomond and was inspired by the beauty of Scotland)

20. Taron’s phone starts buzzing in his jacket pocket right after his eyes flick away from the eye of the camera that just recorded him walking off stage.

It’s a rhythmic, increasingly more intense vibration that some genius probably originally devised to be a silent alarm. It’s like a climax, really—which is maybe why Taron decided to associate it with one particular contact in his phone.

He eyes one of his chaperones, makes a phone sign with his right hand next to his ear, quick phone call? He receives an OK sign, and he sighs in relief as he reaches for his phone.

“’ello, y’keen bastard.”

“Told you I’d call as soon as results were in, didn’t I? Fucking hell, Duckie.”

“I know, right?” - you're so golden (aka: Taron won a FUCKING GLOBE)

Phew, this was a long post. If I had to choose a favourite, it would probably be the one from Can't Stop Christmas, except I didn't actually write that bit, so... Let's go with love it if we made it, because that story saved my sanity last year.

Not gonna lie, I don't *know* ten authors. I'm going to tag my friends and peers, as many as I can think of: @its-a-soft-science, @misslittlefreckles, @mordwen, @channellingmyinnerelton, @johaeryslavellan, and @himbomcavoy. You guys seriously rock.

[gummybearzgocrazyagain]

my top softest moments(c) in tsc universe, in no particular order

NB: LB fam interactions amongst themselves are excluded from the list for obvious reasons, lest we want this thang to be several thousand points long

Raphael texting contact “RF” without getting any replies, and then watching Lily and Elliott dance around with the small smile, during “ANY DAY BUT VALENTINE’S DAY” party in Venice

“This manner of marking the passage of time is a marvel,” said Kieran. “When you are done with one kitten, then there is another kitten. By the next winter solstice, you will have seen twelve full kittens! One of them is in a glass!”

Alec asking Juliette to find orphaned Rose at the Paris shadow market and feed her, after the ordeal at the Orient Express therefore setting tlil in motion

thule!maya having tats to commemorate fallen clary, lily and malec

Robert saying the dinner with his son’s family was the happiest time he had in a while

thule!Raphael trying to burn thule!Sebastian alive for killing Lily

almost every single thing Mark said “Your pretense does not fool me, gnome [...] My eye will be upon you” 

exchange between Elyaas and Max about Uncle Jace’s cruel and hurtful behavior towards “demins”(c)  

Kit trying to lull Wilhelmina “silly melon” Carstairs back to sleep, in order for Tessa and Jem to not be disturbed and get some rest

thule!Raphael’s indignation at Magnus’ giving “Santiago” as a middle name to his son

Jamie x spoon

Alec talking to Kit about Jace: “But to me everything about him said "Love me, because nobody else has". It was all over him, like fingerprints.” (c) 

Robert not realizing Elliott was hitting on him

Simon wanting to say “ily” before getting his memories fully back, and Izzy replying “i know”

lalec’s first proper interaction being Alec handing Lily concussed DJ Bat, and Lily not wanting to put him down, despite Raphael’s demands for her to unhand the werewolf, because “shadowhunter gave this DJ to me” (c)

almost every single thing George said George suggesting Simon and himself could raise Max in their sock drawer

every single thing Jem said about Will after his death. every single thing Jem said about Will, period. every single thing Jem said. period.

Michael Wayland’s ghost attending Robert’s funeral

the way kierark treated each other in Wild Hunt

the way Matthew felt it was his responsibility to keep an eye on Christopher with experiments, the same way he was trying to support Henry

Emma carrying Battle of Burren tapestry through the streets of Alicante

Tavvy saying “Jules, carry me,” to giant True Nephilim Julian in order to bring him back to human form

Magnus magicking a cordless coffee-maker for Helen before the Wrangel Island

Jace’s attempts of befriending post-amnesia Simon

Tessa finding amusement in Lily’s names for Jem, getting a general kick out of people finding him attractive

Simon jumping inside the pentagram that contained Azazel, to rescue Chairman Meow

Ragnor still choosing to teach at the Shadowhunter Academy, despite all the despicable ways nephilim-ness could manifest

every single thing Catarina did Catarina choosing to teach at the Academy to honor Ragnor’s memory

Ty sleeping outside of Kit’s room for the first few days after Kit was left with Blackthorns

the way Gwyn was requested to not wear his horned helmet on the date, and complied 

Thomas showing his tattoo, when asked by Alastair, and in return, Alastair “making an odd noise” upon seeing it

Adaon giving his cabin up for kierarktina

“Don’t die” - “I won’t”  - Mark and Ty saying good bye before Mark’s departure to Faerie

Red Scrolls of Magic manifesto including things like “painting foxes blue”, “seek and love children of demons” and “offend not the Great Poison with cruel deeds of poor fashion”

Gwyn coming to warn Mark about Kieran’s upcoming execution

Will stealing borrowing Gabriel’s carriage constantly couple of times

Jace giving Mark his witchlight in CoHF

+ bonus: the ultimate “Sleep, Lily, i’ll watch the doors” this one is more like a bullet to the heart, but still

[thalmor-banjo]

This is a vent post but I have to get this off my chest.

I have ADHD, but it’s undiagnosed by medical professionals. I think it’s pretty mild, but I still have issues with schoolwork, personal projects, etc.

I stim when feeling very overwhelmed/intense feelings. Sometimes it’s happy flapping from a good fanfic or amazing scene from my favorite show. Other times it’s angry jerks. If I stim when I’m angry everyone shuts me down immediately and says I need to, “Get control of your (my) emotions.” When I was small I wouldn’t hide my stimming and no one really thought it was anything unusual, but as I grew I learned to mask it (because I was intermittently taken to therapy for years). Now I mask in public but when I’m alone, it kinda just all comes out, ya know? And it feels good and happy and oh my god do I love it. But if I do it in front of anyone else (who doesn’t know, some of my close friends do and I’m comfortable being myself in front of them), they’ll look at me like I’m fucking insane.

Another thing, I get overstimulated occasionally. Most of the time I'm ok and can slip out of the situation, but sometimes I'm really really not. (Some background, I have an autistic sister, but outside of her specific situation my family is v ableist.). During quarantine I've stopped masking as much (because it's literally impossible to keep up 24/7) and it's been...detrimental to say the least. Whenever I visibly get overstimulated, someone in my family will notice, then they'll all intensify the behavior ("Exposure therapy is the cure for being overwhelmed"-my lovely mother). I hate it so much. Like I'm obviously in discomfort, can you fuck off???

This March something happened. I'm not sure if it was some kind of breakdown or what, but I just couldn't anymore. The whole day I was on edge, but being forced to sit in the cold living room, not allowed to listen to music or have a blanket, just being forced to work, it fucked with me. My thoughts were too loud for my head. I kept trying to work and they just would shut the fuck up. I tried to explain, but no one would listen. I lost it. Started crying, begging for my headphones. My thoughts were too loud and I couldn't push them down. It wasn't like they were meaningful, I just couldn't focus. It felt like they were ballooning up into my throat, blocking the words I so desperately wanted to scream. Instead, all that came out was, "it's too loud" or something of that vein. I had reached a breaking point. I can't even describe how it felt in words. I was so panicky because my family wanted this work to be done and I was trying so hard but my thoughts were too loud and I just wanted to be in my warm bed snuggled up but I couldn't because who knows why and I had to sit in this cold chair that was sticking to my thighs. The words to describe what I was feeling just couldn't come out past the great nothingness blocking them. They (mis padres) were texting the entire time this was happening. I found out later what they were. Here's my favorites, "she's (I'm trans and they misgender me constantly omfg but that's for another day) acting like River (a character from Joss Whedon's Firefly, one of my absolute favorites. They had just shown it to me the past week. The implication being I was acting out to get out of work, that I was just faking)," "If she (ew ew ew she/her get it awayyyyyyyyy) were a dude, I would punch her (again, they're implying I'm acting out for attention and trying to skip out on work while also being incredibly ableist.).". My parents, the people who have teared me since birth, let me shatter and crunch under their unsympathetic feet. When I tried to communicate my suffering, they turned away, assuming it was all an act and none of it was real. It really stung at the time, and I still don't trust them with a lot of my real thoughts.

Probably the final thing, hyperfixations. I don't forget to eat or drink when hyperfixating (although sleep can be an issue). Not sure why, but it just works out that way. Recently I fell head over heels for the Mandalorian. Space westerns are just my thang (looking at you Firefly). Mando is this battle hardened man who's so devoted to his religion and yet a little green baby comes along and changes it all. My favorite episode is Chapter 15, spoilers ahead. I hate Mayfeld, so much like oh my god. But he makes a good point about lines we're not willing to cross until lines get blurred. It really spoke to me. SPOILER When Din is forced to take off his helmet to do the scan, my heart dropped. I've had to break promises (that I've made to myself) to keep safe (ex: coming out in 2020). But it wasn't just some throwaway vow. This was his religion, his entire way of life. And his sect says you are no longer Mandalorian after removing the helmet, that taking it off means never putting it back on. It's incredibly moving and speaks to something in me; there's a reason it's my favorite episode (so far). And also part of it is that Pedro Pascal is really fucking handsome. Like IRL I'd probably have a squish on him more than anything else, but he's still really hot. Anywayyyyyyyy, back from the tangent, I've watched it at least four, maybe five, times. Chapter 15 is a good episode and it makes me happy. A note: my family (aside from one other member) is aggressively heterosexual and cisgender. Like any time I talk about the future they're immediately like "oh yeah, you'll tell your husband and kids about this later.". It grates on my nerves so much. Like I'm not straight, never will be, and would rather adopt and help (a) kid(s) that need a home rather than bringing another human into the world. Idk if it's just me, but the way they imply I'll have a heterosexual relationship as a cis woman who fucks her husband is just weird and uncomfortable. I don't wanna talk about my sex life with them, nor 1} who I'd like to fuck 2} how I'd like to fuck 3} when I'd like to fuck. Long story short I don't want them to know that I enjoy Pedro Pascal's acting because they'll fucking hound me on it. I wish I didn't have to protect myself and not reveal my thoughts, to keep everything rolling around upstairs from falling off my lips. Then they act like I'm unreasonable for not wanting to share what I'm smiling about. How my sister (who's also ND), starting seeing memories from her past lives. I don't know enough about that kinda stuff to say anything meaningful. I know if I'd have said that my parents would have scoffed and ignored me, but when sister says it, the words are coming directly from God's lips. But when I brought up reality shifting ( something I've been attempting since October), father asked if it was somehow possible for everyone to share a hallucination across thousands of miles. I just wish they'd treat me like they treat her. Like a human bean who deserves to be believed and respected.

I just wanna be able to stim and enjoy things I love without being "normal.".

Anyway, sorry for the long rant, thanks for listening/reading, here's a gif of this absolute human cinnamon bun of a human bean (description, it's Pedro Pascal glancing to the side, raising his brows, looking back, smiling, and then opening his eyes and mouth to make a goofy face):

[cut-to-thespace-blog]

Hello

Note: So I realized, like a dingus, I posted this to the wrong tumblr account so I did not steal this from someone. It’s just me being a dumb dumb.

"I have a paper due tomorrow," Ash stopped in the middle of a field, holding her flashlight. "Fuck."

Sadie shone her light at Ash. "So? If we're lucky, whatever the fuck just crashed will take us away so fuck college."

Ash hummed in agreement. "True, not like I was gonna write that fucking paper. Trying is so highschool."

Sadie waved her light in agreement and continued to walk towards what had landed out in an old cow field.

"Hey," Jamal shouted, "Found something."

"Would you shut up," Ash complained when she got closer. "We're in America, in a fucking cow field, in the middle of the night. Some Bible thumper could come out here and shoot us."

"Bet?" Sadie immediately responded. "The rez is literally two miles east of our dumb asses, my abuela can fix us up."

"Not that I doubt your abuela but I'm not really planning on getting shot," Jamal intersected, looking slightly worried.

"Weak," Ash snorted. "If I get shot, it's better kill me because no way in fuck do I have money for a hospital bill."

Sadie gave Ash a look. "We're all college students, none of us have money you dumb bitch."

Ash flipped Sadie off with a smile and looked at the ground. "What's this," She nudged what looked to be a piece of metal with her foot.

"Lemme see," Jamal bent down and picked it up, gently shaking the dirt off.

"Dude!" Sadie yelled, "That could be radioactive or something!"

Jamal shrugged as he looked closer. "Either I become a superhero or die of radiation so win-win."

Ash laughed. "It really be like that sometimes."

"It really do," Jamal said with a chuckle. "This is some kind of debris, so the ship must be close."

"There wasn't any explosion or fire so  it must've not crashed. Where could an alien ship be," Ash thought aloud, biting her lip.

"Well," Sadie drawled loudly. When Ash and Jamal looked at her, she pointed her flashlight ahead to the giant spaceship. "It could be right there."

Ash glared at Sadie, unimpressed. "You were really going to let us look like idiots there weren't you."

"Uh, yeup," Sadie nodded like it was obvious.

The three young adults approached the ship cautiously. It looked old and used, not a new ship but one that had seen things. When nothing popped out or exploded, Jamal put his hand against the hull.

"Still warm," He noted absently.

"So where the hell is a door," Sadie began circling the ship, looking for an entrance.

"Is this thing really from space," Ash whispered, running a finger along a seam in the hull.

"I can't find a way in," Sadie announced dejectedly, walking to Jamal and Ash.

"Bro," Jamal suddenly whispered, "There could be aliens on here."

Ash gave Jamal a withering look. "No shit Sherlock."

He flipped her off. "No, but like real aliens. Real, actual, aliens that want to kill us."

"Darn?" Sadie said sarcastically.

"Not everything wants to kill us, Jesus, I mean let's try to act differently than the entire past of humanity and not instantly try to kill a new people?"

"Oof," Sadie snorted. "Eh fuck it, let's try to crack it like an egg."

"If I die today, I'll haunt your ass," Jamal told Ash, yet he seemed to relax slightly.

"I'll look forward to it," Ash said with a smile. "Now how the hell do we open this thang."

As if on command, the foreign vessel glowed a light blue then a panel detached from the hull and opened outward. The three humans huddled together, all pointing their lights at the opened door. The world was silent for a moment, as if Earth itself was holding its breath, waiting to see it's humans meet others. Then something stepped out, it was about the same height as a human, clothed in black and wearing come kind of helmet. Another alien came along beside it and they leaned close, speaking in hushed tones with a sense of urgency. The first being waved the second one away and slowly took off it's helmet. Two large black eyes stared at the three frozen humans, a red colored hand with light yellow specks reached out to them, and a  large rounded mouth smiled for them.

"It's red," Sadie whisper-yelled.

Despite the situation, Ash reflexively reached around Jamal and smacked Sadie on the arm.

The creature opened its mouth to speak and a guttural growling sound came out. The three young adults instinctively squeezed closer, like a pack of frightened young animals. The being shook its head and called out something to another. After a few brief moments of shouting between the aliens, the first one nodded and turned back to the three.

"H-h-hello," It croaked with a smile.

"Holy fuck it spoke, it just fucking spoke," Jamal hissed, still staring wide eyed at the strangers.

"Well I'm not going to stand here like an asshole and not say hi back," Ash whispered back. She straightened up slowly, eyes constantly flitting from the alien in front of her to the others behind.

"Hi?"

The alien smiled excitedly and they all chattered to each other. Ash shared a confused look with Sadie and Jamal.

"What-what are you?' Ash asked timidly, her body slightly shaking from adrenaline and fear.

"We are the Y Duan," It said haulingly. "I....Reserna."

"We're human," Ash answered, feeling slightly stupid since it was probably obvious what they were. "I'm Ash, that's Sadie and he's Jamal."

Once named, the two waved awkwardly.

Reserna smiled excited and Ash couldn't help but smile back.

"We have watched you," They explained. "Look for supply, could not help it."

"Supplies? Where are you from?" Sadie spoke up, standing next to Ash.

"Different galaxy, far away," It answered.

"Couldn't help what," Jamal asked suspiciously, still partly hiding behind Ash.

"Meet you, we all have listened and watched your first steps."

"There's other aliens," Ash gasped, her initial fear fading away.

Reserna nodded but it's smile was sad now.

"Thousands of different species, all across space. We have been waiting to meet you."

"Uh why?" Sadie questioned. "I mean, it's fucking amazing that there are other intelligent life forms but why now?"

"How do you know what 'intelligent life forms' means,' Jamal muttered, staring at Sadie.

"I'm a woman of many talents so fuck you," Sadie shot back.

Reserna watched them with gentle amusement.

"Why are you meeting us and, like, not the world powers?" Ash looked at Reserna, trying not to stare at it's red and yellow skin.

An alien near the ship chattered and Reserna snapped back, quickly silencing the other alien.

"We are not supposed to be here," Reserna admitted bashfully. "You are not ready to travel in space, not yet."

"Then why," Ash repeated, confused.

Reserna looked up at the sky, smiling softly at the stars. "You are strange species. Capable of both hate and love, always reaching out."

"You got us there," Sadie mumbled. "We kinda suck."

Reserna shook its head earnestly. "No! You are young, by the rest of the universe, you are child."

Reserna took off a glove and extended a clawed hand to Ash, Sadie, and Jamal.

"We have listened for many solar cycles, ever since you crawled out of the muck you have looked at the sky and wondered if you are alone," Reserna reached for Ash's hand, waiting patiently.

"I could not hold myself back from answering. To the galaxy, the universe, you are children. Lonely, afraid, children screaming at the stars wondering if you're all alone in the universe. Since first human on moon, you have pushed farther and farther, always reaching out."

Ash snorted quietly. "We went to the moon because of a dick measuring contest between the U.S. and Russia."

'Then why do you continue," Reserna challenged.

Ash shrugged, looking at Sadie and Jamal for help.

"I don't know," Jamal said quietly. 'I guess we just want to see what's out there."

Reserna grinned, clacking it's claws together.

"See! For all your flaws, you are curious and hopeful. Your very core is scared of being alone so you must always hope and seek out answers."

Ash slowly extended her hand to Reserna's, tensing slightly as Reserna grabbed her hand.

"Not alone," Reserna said softly.

"So now what," Sadie asked, looking at Reserna. "Are we supposed to go tell the world aliens! There's aliens!"

Reserna made a huffing noise, Ash guessed it was laughter.

"No," It chittered. "You will find us eventually, I may not live to see it, but I know you will make it."

An alien poked its head out of the ship and squawked urgently. Reserna sighed and shook its head

"We must go, supplies are needed." It gently squeezed Ash's hand then let go and turned to walk back. Ash, Jamal, and Sadie shared a look of complete disbelief. Reserna hesitated the door and turned back to the humans.

"What would you say? To the rest of the universe?"

"Uh," Sadie blinked. "Good fucking question my dude, what the hell should we even say?!"

"Lol sorry?" Jamal suggested.

"How about hello," Ash said to herself.

"What," Jamal and Sadie asked in unison.

Ash cleared her throat and looked at Reserna. "What about hello, just.....hello."

Sadie nodded, smiling. "Hello, I like it."

"Tell the universe, hi, for us," Jamal called out to Reserna.

Reserna nodded with a small smile, waved, and walked back into it's ship. The three stepped back as the vessel glowed blue then blasters went off and it rocketed back into space. They watched it go, a small shooting comet among the stars.

"Hello," Ash whispered with a smile.

[severelybabykryptonite]

Wednesday, October 28, 2016 (Day 125)

“My belly is not that big yet.”  She scrambles out of the bed, positioning herself in front of the standing mirror.  She lifts her shirt and states, “See.  Barely even a bump.  Certainly not big enough to paint it as a basketball or a pumpkin.  Pick something else.”

“There’s a bump there alright,” her husband snaps back.  “I know your body better than you do and there have definitely been some changes.”

He clicks off the image and returns to his search.  They are attempting to garner ideas from the internet for Halloween costumes.  So far, she has declined the two ideas he presented.

 “Well I’m not painting my stomach.  You know my belly is not that big and I resent you saying that.”

“It’s not that big….yet but it’s getting there.  He’s growing every day,” Rick states.

“You found anything else?”

He laughs and zooms in on another image.  “Oh this is awesome.”  He turns the lap top to face her, sharing his findings.

She looks at the screen then gives him an exasperated gaze.  “Really?”

“It’s perfect!  We can announce the pregnancy and everything.”

“So you’re the bun maker and I go as an oven with a bun baking?  What about Carl?  He’s coming too.  What’s he gonna be?  A loaf of bread?”

“That could work.”

“You are not serious.  Why are all of my costumes centered around my stomach….a stomach that is still mostly flat you know.”

She was only a little over three months pregnant and barely showing but Rick is so excited that he wants to announce it to the world.  He figures Shane and Andrea’s Halloween bash would be the perfect setting.  Dr. Greene confirmed their pregnancy weeks ago and after a few calculations, they realized that they didn’t get pregnant on their honeymoon but shortly thereafter once they returned home.

“It’s only for announcement purposes and it’s not like your belly isn’t going to get bigger.  You don’t see it but I do.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?”

“No of course not but you’re gonna be.”

She gasps.  “Did you just say that?  I am not fat nor am I gonna be.  This is a pregnancy and yes….I will gain weight but I’m supposed to and you….” She stops abruptly, her feelings more hurt than she realized.  “You don’t get to call me fat.”  Her bottom lip trembles as her emotions start to overwhelm her.  She had a couple of breakdowns early on and thought she was losing her mind until she read in one of her baby books how a pregnant woman’s hormones are seriously out of sync.  Although she recognizes what she is going through, some days she can’t stop the reactions.

She covers her mouth as the tears well in her eyes and makes her way to the bathroom, closing the door.

Rick sits there dumb founded.  He’s not sure if he genuinely said the wrong thing and hurt her feelings or if this is another one those hormone induced episodes she told him about.  What do I do?  He makes his way to the bathroom door.  “Babe?”  He cringes as he hears her sniffling.  “Michonne you’re not fat.  You know that.  I was only joking.”

Seconds later, she snatches the door open and marches over to the lap top, taking a seat on the bed.  She clicks and types and types and clicks and finally finds an image she likes.  She turns the computer so he can see it.

“A football player and a cheerleader?  That’s what we’re going as?”

She gives him a curt nod with a roll of her eyes and leaves the room.

Her husband watches her leave, wondering at the exchange then sighs.  Shit.  She’s pissed.

For the remainder of the evening, he gives her space and time, hoping she will calm down and believe that he honestly didn’t mean to hurt her.

Dinner is unusual as they sit at the table and just eat….no conversation.  She even avoids his gaze.  He knows he shouldn’t push her but he also refuses to allow this to go on for much longer.

“I’m sorry,” they both say simultaneously then smile as they finally connect visually.

“I know you didn’t mean it.  I just get so worked up about the smallest things now and I’m praying I don’t lose my job because I’m bound to go off on somebody.”

“You’ll be fine.  You’re just getting adjusted.  It’s gonna be a whole new thang for us,” he offers.

“So am I forgiven?”  She asks quietly.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he answers just as softly.

“Same.”

They end the night wrapped in each other’s arms, satiated and content.

Days later, Halloween night arrives and they are preparing to leave for Shane and Andrea’s.  Rick and Carl are dressed in their football costumes complete with helmets, cleats, balls, and eye black.   They are downstairs waiting for Michonne.  She finally arrives, descending the stairs in a matching cheerleader costume, her midriff revealed with a huge #2 painted across in white.

“Why is that number on your stomach?”  Carl asks curiously.

She shares a look with Rick then smiles at her stepson.  “We’re making a huge announcement tonight.  We had #1 put on your jersey because your little brother or little sister will be baby #2.”

Carl frowns as he comprehends what she is telling him then his entire face lights up with clarity.  “You mean…..you and dad are having a baby?”

She nods slowly.  “How do you feel about that?  Are you ready to be a big brother?”

Carl laughs as he looks from his dad to his stepmom.  “It’s cool.  I’ve always wanted a baby brother or baby sister but I’d prefer a baby brother.”

“Well that’s what we’re having…..a boy,” Rick announces.

“What?  You already know?” Carl exclaims.

“No.  Your daddy does not know yet.”

“I’m claiming it son.”

“Me too dad.”

Michonne rolls her eyes.  “Can we go now?” 

They each grab their coats and an item for the party, making their way out of the front door.

“Does anybody else know?”  Carl asks.

“Nope.  Not yet,” Rick relays.

Carl stops in his tracks.  “You mean grandma and grandpa don’t know?  What about Mama Mae and Papa Walter?”

“We’re telling them at Sunday dinner,” Rick informs.

Their son shakes his head.  “You’re going to announce it to everybody else and wait to tell them on Sunday?  They won’t like that.”

Michonne considers his words.  “He’s right.  We’ll just make a couple of stops on the way to the party.  I’ll call Andrea and tell her we’ll be a little late.”

“Good idea,” Rick states.

[city-wandering-bitch]

Hi do 11: motorcycle cuz I love badass babes

Alexander Hamilton an eighteen-year-old high school student stood at his locker as he gathered his things for his two final classes of the day. He was wearing a dark green one size too big dark green hoodie with a white t-shirt underneath. He had a pair of loose fitting blue jeans on and a pair of dark green and white sneakers. Around his body, was a dark brown leather messenger bag that he used as his school bag. His hickory brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail moving some of his hair out of his black framed glasses cover brown copper eyes. The hoodie hid his sun-kissed caramel skin that held some scars that he had gotten over the years. He stood at the full height of 5′6  and he was slim for his age but he did have som muscles.

Alexander is what one would call a nerd and most certainly not the one that superstar and bad boy Thomas Jefferson would have any interest in no matter how much Alexander wish he did. He had fought with Thomas since the day they met in Freshmen year one the first day of school when they were in debate class with one another. So not only was Thomas a sports start, a hot bad ass who cared a lot for people, he was also extremely intelligent so he was a triple threat and usually made Alex blush whenever he was around him though he would never let Thomas see that.

So imagine Alex’s surprise when his locker door was slammed shut as he pulled his hands back safely and turned around to see Thomas Jefferson himself staring down at Alex in a cliche football player waiting to ask someone out pose.

Thomas Jefferson was a 6’2 man with an Olympic swimmer build meaning no trace of fat on him. His skin was a dark mocha skin that had a few scars from football and other sports. His hair was a thick curly bottom of the neck length mess of jet black and he had a scruffy neat beard to match. His eyes were a deep dark chocolate that even though Alex hated it would admit like every other everyone else at the school could stare in for an eternity. He had on a dark purple button up with a pair of nice new black jeans, he wore black and purple sneaker from yesterday and he had a black leather jacket thrown over his upper half that showed off all his muscles and made him look even hotter than he was before. He had his black leather messenger bag thrown over his right shoulder.

“Hello, Hamilton.” Thomas drawled out in his southern accent as he smirked down at Alexander. Alex forced himself not to shiver at those words as he glared up at Thomas through his glasses.

“What do you want Jefferson?” Alex asked as he pulled his books closer to his chest feeling more and more like a school girl every minute that he stood there.

“What, Can’t I just come and talk to you?” Thomas asked as he reached forward and gently pinched Alex’s cheek almost in an affectionate way. Alex swatted his hand away and glared up at him.

“No, you can’t.” Alex stated as he tried to move past Thomas, but was stopped by Thomas grabbing his wrist and gently pushing him back against the lockers.

“Come on now don’t be like that.” Thomas said gently as he smiled down at Alex a real smile something that Alex rarely saw Thomas give him.

“What do you want?” Alex asked as he pulled his arm away from Thomas glaring up at him as he held his books tighter against his chest. “We’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” Alex snapped out glaring up at him still.

“Your right we are, but I wanted to tell you to meet me outside in the back parking lot after school.” Thomas said as he smiled down at Alex with his laid-back grin that made Alex blush.

“Why exactly?” Alex asked a confused look gleaming in his eyes as he asked Thomas this.

“You’ll see just do as I say.” Thomas said that same smile gleaming on his face, but he then did something that Alex was surprised by. Thomas leaned down and place a gentle kiss on his cheek making him blush even brighter. “See you then sweet heart.” Thomas said with a wink as he turned and left Alex alone as he walked to his class.

Alex stood frozen for a moment before remembering he had to get to class so he quickly raced down the hall towards his math class wondering what the end of the day would hold if he actually went to the back parking lot like Thomas asked.

The end of the day came faster than Alex thought it would and he was truly surprised to find himself standing in the back parking lot waiting for Thomas just as he had asked. Alex felt nervous as he stood there waiting to wonder if this was just some stupid joke that Thomas and his friends were pulling on him. A few moments later Alex was proven wrong when he felt to hands placed on his shoulders and another kiss placed against his cheek making him lean back in comfort from how safe he felt which slightly throw him off since had never felt safe around Thomas.

“Hey, Baby you ready?”  Thomas asked as he moved in front of Alex and grabbed Alex’s hand pulling him down the steps as he went.

“Go where?” Alex asked trying to ignore the fact that Thomas had just called him “Baby” as if they were dating.

“For a ride of course Alex.” Thomas said laughing as he gently pulled Alex towards the parking lot and towards a black Harley Davis motorcycle with magenta streaks going down it.

“I’m not getting on that thing!” Alex said as he pulled his hand back with a wide look in his eyes looking at the motorcycle and Thomas as if he was crazy.

“Oh, Come on Baby Doll everything will be fine I’ll keep you safe.” Thomas cooed as he moved towards Alex gently grabbing his hand once again pulling him towards him. Both his hands were instantly placed on Alex’s waist gently wrapping around Alex and pulling him close into a warm hug that Alex instantly melted into much to his embarrassment.

“You promise, Tommy?” Alex asked blushing at how much he had fallen in love Thomas Jefferson and at how Thomas had pulled him closer as if trying to convince him and Alex began to wonder how the hell things had gotten this far in the course of not ten minutes.

“Yes, Of course, I promise, Sweet Thang.” Thomas said as he pulled back slightly place his finger under Alex’s chin and moving his face up to look him in the eyes before placing his lips against Alex’s gently, Alex gave out a surprised sound before letting his eyes close and started kissing Thomas back as he wrapped his arms around his neck to pull him closer. A few moments later Thomas pulled back leaning his head against his forehead as he smiled sweetly down at Alex. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you get hurt.” Thomas said as he pulled back grabbing Alex’s hand once more and pulling him gently over to his motorcycle.

“B-Boyfriend?” Alex asked stuttering out blinking at Thomas as he carefully slipped onto Thomas motorcycle.

“Yeah, Boyfriend baby.” Thomas answered kissing his cheek as he took something from the front of the bike and holding it out to Alex. “Now can you please put this helmet on so your pretty little self don’t get hurt.”  Thomas drawled out smiling at him as Alex nodded his head and took the helmet as he gently started to slip it on. “Wait!” Thomas instantly said making Alex jump.

“What?” Alex asked wondering what Thomas wanted. Alex blushed as Thomas quickly pressed his mouth against Alex’s lips in a chaste kiss.

“I just wanted a quick kiss.” Thomas said gently as he slipped on in front of Alex and slid his own helmet. “Now hold on tight babe.”  Thomas ordered as he started the motorcycle and smiled as Alex wrapped his arms around Thomas’ waist and held tightly to him. Thomas revved the engine of the bike once again.

“Um… Thomas.” Alex said in a shaky voice as he held tighter to Thomas.

“Don’t worry baby I’ve got you.” Thomas assured him as he placed his hand over Alex’s. “Now let’s go!” Thomas cried out as he hit the throttle on the bike and it lurched forward making Alex let out a small squeak as Thomas laughed sweetly.

Ten minutes into the ride Alex was still gripping tightly to Thomas as the air whipped around them as Thomas made the bike go faster and at the same time he felt fear he felt excitement run through him as Thomas went faster.

“How do you like it doll!?!” Thomas shouted back to Alex over the roar of the bike as he felt Alex cling tighter to him.

Alex looked up at Thomas and for a moment he looked like an angel with the wind wrapping around him and the sun shining off of him. Alex felt his heart beat faster and he held tighter to Thomas as he leaned his head against Thomas’ bike.

“As long as I’m with you I love!!!” Alex yelled to Thomas as he felt a smile grow on his lips.

Thomas smiled at hearing that glad he hand finally found the nerve to ask out Hamilton after four years.

[adleryoung]

"Where are your parents?" I asked the impudent possum child.  "Didn't they teach you to respect your elders and betters?"

"You sound just like ol' Silverbrush," the child scoffed.  "Only less intelligent.  My momma's right there, and my pappy's hidin' out somewheres on a secret mission."

"Howdy, Prince Adler," Salmonella Moonbeam sighed as she leaned against the porch rail.  "Don't pay no mind to lil' Lem Junior here.  Can't nobody straighten out that young'un.  Lemmy done tole us all about you, so I figured I'd bring the boy around to take a look while you was right here upside the Antglade."

"My sister was scared to come," Lem Junior sniffed.  "But I ain't scared of nothin, specially not some durn fool with a too-small helmet perched on top of his noggin."

"I am a genuine descendant of Irenaeus, child," I growled.  "Soon I will be Emperor, so you'd best mind your tongue."

"Elves don't lie," the youngster admitted.  "But my pappy may have had some misconceptions concernin' you."

This little pipsqueak was starting to get on my nerves!  I'd show him a thing or two!

I carefully composed some Gramarye in my mind, and concentrated on making the helmet bigger so it would fit my head.

For some reason, it seemed to actually get smaller, so I redoubled my efforts.

"Think an awful lot of yourself, don't you, Your Headness?" Lem cackled gleefully, pointing at my head.

"Dang it, Adler," the Duchess grumbled over her shoulder.  "I done told you to take that thang off and quit messin' with it.  Was you tryin' to change its size to make it fit you?  Tsk.  You oughta know that Irenaeus' armor would be warded against all kinds of magick.  Think about it.  Would he have wanted some battle wizard a-shrinkin' his armor with him in it?  Course not!  Any spell you cast on it is gonna be reflected right back at you.  Now why don't you give that helmet to the young'un and fix your head, cause I found the thang I was lookin' for."

"Give this priceless Irenaeid artifact to an uncouth elflet?" I asked, outraged.

"Shoot, suits of Irenaeus armor ain't rare," the Duchess replied.  "Did you think he only had one set?  That lil' feller can't do nothin' to hurt it, so let him run along and play."

Lem grabbed the helmet and plunked it onto his own head.  Of course, it fit perfectly.

"Look, ma!  I'm Irenaeus!" he yelled giddily as he dashed off the porch toward the Army.  "Maybe one of them soldiers'll let me borry a sword."

Salmonella sighed, rolled her eyes, and descended the porch steps in slow pursuit of her son.

Duchess Catherine waited for the O'Possums to leave, and for my head to return to normal size, before withdrawing her arms from the chest.  As I looked at her, I could not help but notice that she was normal-sized compared to modern elves - not small, as her explanation of Irenaeus' diminutive stature would have suggested.  But wait .. the Duchess of Daisies didn't actually date back to the Long Ago, did she?  If I recalled my dynastic history correctly, she was Athanasius' niece, which would have made her one of Irenaeus' granddaughters.  I was reluctant to ask her about this, since it was generally considered impolite to inquire about a femme's age or body size.

"So, what's the thing in the crate that you wanted to show me?" I asked instead.  "Is it the legendary shield 'Fuma's Booby' which protects its wearer from all physical assaults?"

"I seem to recollect that thang was burned," the Duchess replied.  "Caer Adland folks didn't like seein' any visual depiction of the Great Auk, least of all one bein' carried into battle by a Mephitist warlord, and they figured it was disrespectful to call the Auk a booby, even though he was acknowledged to be a flunky of the Goddess.  Nope, what I got here is way better'n that."

She cozied up next to me and presented a small sulfur-green glass phial.

"This here is the Gladsome Antglade's secret weapon," she whispered with a satisfied smirk.  "My alchemists at the P.I. plant came up with it back durin' the war, but them dang Imperials whupped us before we ever had a chance to use it.  Ol' Silverbrush's durn lithophagous beetles took us completely by surprise, and after it was over we was all trapped here in this swamp with no more use for a secret weapon."

"What is it?" I asked.

"They called it the Plague of Battles," Catherine whispered ominously.  "It causes elves to go into a berserk frenzy."

"So .. I should give it to my army to raise their fighting spirit?"

"Oh heck no!  You put a drop or two on an arrow and shoot it into the enemy camp.  The frenzy is catchin, see, like a plague, and yer enemies'll all start fightin' each other till they ain't none left."

"That's Unseelie," I gasped, horrified.

"That's strategy," the Duchess corrected.  "You ain't gotta use it if you don't want to, but at least the option will be there.  Take it."

I put the phial very carefully into my Elfintory and walked away as Catherine started putting things back into the chest.

Around the corner of the porch, I saw Ms. Thomson leaning on the railing and staring out over the troops as they munched ham, talked, and fought on the lawn.  I paused and eyed her suspiciously.  She had evaded my question earlier, when I asked if the Sisterhood had ordered the Scuti assassination.  Why, indeed, would they do such a thing?  One of the Scuti had helped Estmere sire a child with Edessa, but was that a reason to kill it?  I could not see what that would accomplish.  Killing the Scuti would not undo the pregnancy.  Plus, Scuti Preston would be the likely target in that case, but it had survived the attack.

Perhaps, if Scuti Preston was truly Scuti Prime, the long-lost tail of Irenaeus .. the Sisterhood might have been interested in tying up that loose end, if they thought the Scuti could be contenders for the throne.  But did the Sisterhood even know that the Scuti were descendants of Irenaeus?  Unless there had been a spy listening in on our conversation in Sergeant Avogadro's office, the only people who knew were the Scuti, maybe their hosts, myself, and Avogadro.  Had he told the Marshal?  It was never mentioned during my interrogation and trial.  Who else had a reason to attack the Scuti?

"I'm concerned about this Army, Your Highness," Thomson said as I approached.  "They won't be a match for the Imperial & Royal Army, even in its present state.  The Shrub Auxiliary could even defeat this mob.  They are undisciplined and untrained."

"I'll teach 'em how to kill!" Burnside shouted happily behind me.  She pulled a large knife out of her Elfintory and dashed down the steps into the yard.

"You can't deny their enthusiasm," I pointed out, listening to the boisterous cheers and screams and clattering metal.  "Look, we already have a regimental drummer helping keep up morale."  I pointed to a rotund rodent who was beating out a martial rhythm on an overturned bucket.

"A chubby wombat thumping a tub?" Thomson scoffed.  "IS THAT MUSIC??"

"NOT ANYMORE," I yelled over the racket as a trio of baglute players joined the wombat.

[joangraves]

Dear Selective Service Person;

I received your letter requiring my son DJ register for Selective Service. As a deep patriot, I must inform you – you don’t want that boy!  As great as America’s military is, they are not prepared for my little weapon of mass destruction. DJ has many strengths, but he’s a little quirky.  Do you really want an enlistee who even Santa gives the side-eye?

There are things he could do such as train bomb-sniffing dogs.  Got some out-of-control dragons?  He’s your man!  But not horses!  He prefers riding them backward and wonders why it doesn’t work out.  Not to mention, the helmet messes up his hair.

His flair for disguises is a definite asset.  Hugh Hefner and Phil Robertson never looked better.

As evident in his massive medical file, he holds up well under torture.

Waterboarding ain’t nothing but a thang.

He has a problem with loud noises, though.  They scare him and hurt his ears.  So, unless you want him standing in the middle of the battlefield covering his ears some adaptations are needed.  Put a silencer on guns, artillery shells, tanks, grenades, pretty much everything you have; including drill sergeants.  I hear they get a bit out of hand.

Considering how much trouble DJ gets into at home, putting him in uniform in another country increases the chances of an international incident.  He has a knack for getting into questionable if not downright compromising situations.  Gambling, document shredding, and literally caught with his pants down are only a few of his transgressions.

Literally with his pants down the sequel

Gambling

Literally with his pants down.

Document shredding

DJ aspires to be the world’s greatest social media influencer.  Therefore, he requests his uniform have more of the NASCAR I’m promoting something vibe rather than the camo I’ve come to kill you feel.  He just feels it works better for his brand.  He suggests his uniform have patches for Culvers, UK basketball, Pizza Hut, UK basketball, Coke, UK basketball, Bath & Body Works, UK basketball, Ricky T’s Bar & Grille … well, you see where this is going.

Though DJ is a true warrior at heart and a Superhero even The Avengers envy, I must exert my guardianship authority over him and reject your offer of war.  Alas, the world is just not ready for my DJ.  (sigh)  But don’t despair, his brother Dalton is all signed up and ready to go.  Good luck with that!

    Sorry not that sorry,

Joan Graves

Military Wants My Special Needs Son Dear Selective Service Person; I received your letter requiring my son DJ register for Selective Service. As a deep patriot, I must inform you - you don’t want that boy! 

[verydeepthots]

funny silly lines

“my homie said you gotta write eloquently for catfish you better finesse that english language for them lovely ladies and bitch ni99as”

“my homie said lloyd banks said you gotta pop a listerine strip before you get all up in a bitch face”

“my homie said some of these bitch ni99as gotta watch The Craft to see what happens to foul play”  

“my homie said any dude that love poker too much don’t like sex he always wanna cover up”

“my homie said he bought his mom groceries... today was a good day”

“my homie said they can’t even fly away with them flaps between their legs”

“my homie said put that indie film Suicide Watch on that summer jam screen”

“my homie said even when a gangster angry he look scared”

“my homie said he wanna use red tape for foreplay with a fake gangster’s mother”

“my homie said he gonna tie a fake gangster hands with red tape and make him pray to a god of another religion”

“my homie said he gonna send fake gangsters pictures of their dead mothers to always stay connected”

“my homie said he wanna write suicide hotline on fake gangsters forehead in gold posca”

“my homie said he wanna hang snake ni99a from a tree using a real snake so it look like a natural death”

“my homie said fake gangsters remind him of childs play he wanna collect them all then play barbies with jail cell”

“my homie said to be blunt these fake gangsters are pointless”

“my homie said he gonna make fake gangsters wash their undies using their mother’s tears”

“my homie said how fake gangsters leave their mothers like that clearly didn't watch game 6″

“my homie said when they squeeze you out then you squeeze them in the world perfect like that”

“my homie said he sends love letters to fake gangsters then gets their mothers to sign them with the kindest regards in strictly faber castell”

“my homie said he makes reservations for a fake gangster at the jail cell and the graveyard so he can always meet them at the finish line... i always got you”

“my homie said he wanna give a fake gangster a headlock coz its the only way they gonna close it when he splits it open”

“my homie said he wanna ravage a fake gangster ass coz its technically not gay if he uses 1.5m metal cock extension he got the all clear from lgbt community”

“my homie said he still shakes enemy hands out of curiosity for what dick size they can handle for the next 50 odd years stuck in a jail cell... he's so futuristic”

“my homie said he bought a fake gangster’s mom baggy jean shorts for her birthday so they can mix n match together”

“my homie said they use more cover ups than a bitch now watch my rap flow wash em away”

“my homie said he took his parents out to dinner on a boring tuesday coz he's getting old and life is precious”

“my homie said he drinks green tea every sunday morning its his new thing”

“my homie said he didn't cry at his homie’s wedding and it still annoys him to this day”

“my homie said his friend’s kids look happy and that’s a good thing”

“my homie said that ni99a bitch went to handsome boy modelling school thats foul”

“my homie said that girl’s outfit is very considered for a sunday afternoon she's cool”

“my homie said he bought a fake gangster bootlegs to complete the whole personification of a needy bitch”

“my homie said if they like drip drip torture they should ask their girl”

“my homie said pinch a fake gangster on the ass and whisper they’ll never believe you when you get inside”

“my homie said he gonna bathe a fake gangster’s mother with holy water to let him know exactly what time it is boy boy”

“my homie said that a fake gangster is saving face so he can get skull fucked in jail” 

“my homie said he wanna make his mother proud and be dentist when he grow up so he can pull out a fake gangster’s grill to make it easier for him to get skull fucked to make it a smoove transition omg he always so thoughtful”

“my homie said even if they time travel they can’t keep up when he slow play”

“my homie said he gonna bring a ginger beer keg to a gangster funeral”

“my homie said a gangster suicide still cheaper than weekly groceries tight arses”

“my homie said he made a car crew drive around with helmets on they either shit scared or doing juggernaut cosplay and unfortunately won’t make menswear blog this week”

“my homie said there’s always bad apples so we gonna make them crumble”

“my homie said he wanna give early retirement to old haters then aeroplane spoon feed eggplant soup inspired by method man skit”

“my homie said he wanna make calipos from fake gangster tears to give to their mothers while they locked up”

“my homie said money ain’t a thang but a green light to a fire”

“my homie said their mothers got more heart”

“my homie said even gay dudes don’t want no jail time so what are these motherfuckers playing dumb”

“my homie said he guilt tripping all these bitch ni99as like a lawyer”

“my homie wanna give direct free kick to a fake gangster in honour of pras lyrics”

“my homie said if they steal money that’s just an investment for their momma funeral look at it as a good deed... love conquers all”

“my homie said he wanna buy tissue subscription for a fake gangster as a sexual favour”

“my homie said he wanna give a handie in pulling away a fake gangster’s manhood... he wylin for that one but so thoughtful of our future wellbeing”

“my homie said they injected themselves with too much pride serum they gonna overdose what a way to go out kekekeke”

“my homie said he undecided if he should get courtside at watching paint dry or watch this fake gangster indirectly plead with imma come see you but lets agree to disagree nah mean like im right here though ain’t i cmon man please”

“my homie said should he throw up the money to watch a fake gangster get slapped by his mother or let one of his gay homies do his thang thang”

“my homie said he told a fake gangster get up off your knees you ain’t paraplegic yet my guy”

“my homie said him and his girl re-enacted ghost scene making penis clay straws to give out to any next ni99a that wanna play up”

“my homie said we live in a beautiful world so he went out to go hang with his friends today he seems really happy”

“my homie said he sent a seed to every one of his haters so they can learn to grow without him”

“my homie said he sent a box of fresh oysters to his enemies locked away”

“my homie said he did knock and run at fake gangster’s door coz it was a sunny day and he didn't want either of them to stay inside and waste it... man he can be so thoughtful”

“my homie said some people do too much for street cred a homeless person got the most street cred they really out there”

“my homie said any ni99a that love poker more insecure than a bitch”

“my homie said he only eats fish fingers coz thats what he wants his life to be about”

“my homie said his aussie homie sculled a can of vb then spat that shit in the face of a fake gangster’s mother on the anniversary of 2pac in that red bandana”

“my homie said jealousy a trait you can never bounce back from”

“my homie said God don’t need to work in mysterious ways some of these ni99as already know their outcome”

“my homie said he wanna put one fake gangster in every jail in a capital city for all lives matter hashtag”

“my homie said he stick his long term goals up a hater’s ass”

“my homie said they only a thousand deep in a million man march we built differently”

“my homie said wrong one boy boy”

“my homie said he gonna make a crew wanna escape each other”

“my homie said if they need to build a case you got em”

“my homie said when they say i ain’t scared you already know”

“my homie said they rewrite history coz they don’t like they present” 

"my homie said he gonna waltz on your grave bro”

“my homie said they snakes before their sweet sixteen now bitter for their 40s”

“my homie said he put a hater’s girlfriend in a head lock”

“my homie said everyday is a gentle reminder”

“my homie said peaceful loungin is a lifestyle”

“my homie said shit is like a light switch”

“my homie said that crew so grave-y”

“my homie said divide and concur”

“my homie said reading my moves is like watching your oh-bitch-you-wary now I'm coming ni99a brapppt”

hahahahahahaha