#after 12000000 years

[hp-hcs]

Reader (male preferably) x T.N and M.R

Where reader gets into fights a lot. Like a lot. Almost double the amount that Theo and Matt get in combined in just a week. The only reason Dumbledore lets him stay at Hogwarts is because he’s top of every class. What bugs a lot of his peers is the fact that he doesn’t try. He doesn’t study, he just gets it straight up, he barely shows up to class, he fights everyone and anything that speaks bad about the slytherin house, and he’s got the face every guys jealous of. Reader is just made to make people mad, is how he’d be described. But he’s not aggressive. He doesn’t lose his temper easy, it’s just when his house or Theo and Matt are mentioned that he loses it. It’s like a trigger going off in his brain, to protect what’s his. And Merlin does that turn them on.

NSFW (optional)

Reader loves to mark them as his. To have everyone be able to see the dark hickeys or slowly healing bite marks. To display a type of claim over the two. They’re his. And he knows exactly how to make them feel good. Make them writhe for him. Degrading Mattheo while edging Theodore, wrapping his bloodied hands around their throats while he pushes them up against the wall. Fuck and when he’s all beaten up after a fight? They can’t fucking resist him.

• smut • bloody knuckles — poly! sub! sweetie pie! theodore nott x poly! sub! brat! mattheo riddle x gn! poly! dom! reader

❕no pronouns or gender/assigned sex markers of any kind!❕

warnings: SMUT MDNI, BLOOD KINK JFC IS THERE A GODDAMN BLOOD KINK IN HERE, same with degradation holy fuck, pain(?) kink, violence, mild descriptions of gore/wounds, usage of the word ‘blood’ or ‘bloody’ approximately 12000000 times, THE BOYS ARE ROMANTICALLY & SEXUALLY INVOLVED WITH EACH OTHER, some pretty aggressive dom/sub roles for ya silly little deviants

i don’t know why i gave the boys pure opposite personalities. the dichotomy of man, i guess.

this is quite easily the filthiest fucking thing i’ve ever written, and i was too embarrassed to let my allosexual boyfie edit/help with this one so it’s real bad 😬 enjoy your asexual-written smut? ig? i did my best, anon, i’m so sorry

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Seamus Finnegan was not expecting to start off his Monday morning with a broken nose.

To be fair though, it was kind of his fault. I mean, six years of school together and the boy still decided to run his mouth without a single care in the world.

“Heard Riddle’s a slut. That true?”

Your head snapped up and a furious look crossed your face. “What?”

“Hot though,” Seamus shrugged. “‘s why y’keep ‘im ‘round, yeah?”

Your hands clenched into fists down by your sides.

“He a good fuck, at least?” Seamus asked carelessly, seemingly unaware of your brewing anger. “I bet ‘e is. Think ‘e’d put out?”

Before anyone could even blink, you had Finnegan down on the ground. His face quickly became the victim of your furious fists.

He tried to shove you off, but you just smacked his hands away and got a solid hit to the center of his face, punctuated by the sound of snapping cartilage.

Blood rushed in your ears and the crowds fell away as you focused solely on Make him pay. Make him pay. Make him pay.

You were abruptly brought out of your bloodthirsty rage by a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your torso and yanking you off of Seamus.

You spun around in anger, the question of who the fuck-? dying on your lips when you saw the concerned face of Theodore Nott, and the bright red face of Mattheo Riddle.

~~~

“Darling-”

“Shut up, it’s my love language,” you pouted.

Theo rolled his eyes fondly, leading you by your shoulders into their dorm’s bathroom. “You know we can handle ourselves, love. You’ve met both of our fathers; we’ve had much worse than some Irish pipsqueak theorizing about our sex lives.”

“Well, I thought it was hot.” Mattheo interrupted with a cheeky grin. “Our badass lover who’s willing to throw down with a Gryffindor to protect our honor? Proof that chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Well, I just don’t want other people talking about you like that,” you scowled.

“We know, love,” Theo grinned, crouching down to dig the first aid kit out from under the sink, patting your thigh in a patronizingly reassuring gesture. “Now, lemme see how bad it is.”

You huffed in faux annoyance, holding out your bloody hands in front of you and lifting your chin so he could see the state of your face.

Theo sighed and began his millionth lecture of the day as he started dabbing antiseptic ointment on the few small scrapes scattered across your face.

Mattheo was unusually quiet, adding nothing to the playful bickering between you and Theo.

You glanced over at him, only to find that he was practically enraptured, staring at your hands. His eyes followed a single bead of blood’s meandering path down your knuckles and fingers, watching as it dripped off the tip of your index finger and splattered onto the tile floor.

You could’ve sworn you saw him lick his lips.

You traded a knowing look with Theo before speaking. “Whatcha looking at, Matty?”

His cheeks flushed red and his gaze snapped back up to your eyes. “Nothing!”

You took a step forward. He took a step back.

“Oh, really?”

He gulped.

You reached forward to rest a hand on his shoulder, gently pressing him up against the wall. “A blood kink, huh? Shit, you really are a slut, love.”

Mattheo looked down, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

You gripped his chin and forced his head up to look at you. His eyes widened in surprise at the firmness of your grasp.

You pressed two blood-streaked fingers against his lips, groaning at the sight of his tongue instinctively darting out to kitten-lick them.

“Shit, Matty,” Theo whispered from behind you.

You trailed your fingers down his jaw and the side of his neck before loosely wrapping your hand around his throat.

He gasped and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Y-Y/n-”

“You like this? Hm?” You crooned as the blood on your hand smeared onto the skin of his neck.

Mattheo nodded frantically—as much as he could with the limited range of motion.

“That’s fucking disgusting, Riddle. What a filthy fucking boy.”

(He whimpered. He fucking loved it when you called him by his last name.)

You let go of his neck, stepping back and leaving him with a pleading whine caught in his throat as you turned to your other boyfriend.

“And Theodore, my pretty little angel,” you cooed softly, running your fingers through his hair and cupping his cheek. “How’s my little lovebug doing?”

He watched you with wide eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips. “Y-Y/n…”

You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, smiling softly. “Answer my question, pretty boy.”

“I-I’m doing good, love,” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as you trailed your thumb down the side of his neck and swept it across his collarbone.

You abruptly pulled your hand away, spinning on your heel and leaving the en-suite without another word.

Your boys followed you into the dorm room like lost puppies, trailing after you with confused and needy expressions.

You sat down on one of the beds, lying back against the pillows with a relaxed and unbothered expression on your face. “Teddy, over here. Matty, go sit in the chair.” You waved your hand towards the desk chair, lazily motioning for Theodore to take off his shirt and join you on the bed.

Mattheo pouted and whined. “What? But- darlin’, I’ve been-”

“A greedy bitch,” you scoff as you yanked off Theo’s trousers and boxers in one swift motion, rolling him over onto his back. “Now sit down and wait your damn turn. Don’t you dare touch yourself. You’d better keep your hands where I can fucking see them.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned back to your other lover. You ignored Mattheo’s protesting whines in favor of wrapping your fingers around Theo’s dick, appreciating the way Theo’s hips jerked up with a startled moan and his hands scrabbled for anything to hold onto as you did so.

“Riddle. I changed my mind. Get the fuck over here.” You snap, narrowing your eyes at the boy wiggling uncomfortably in his seat. “Hold Teddy’s hand.”

He jumped into action, quickly clambering onto the bed next to the pair of you and scooping up one of Theo’s hands in his.

You nodded, pleased at his cooperation, and slowly started jerking Theo off.

“Pretty, isn’t he, Matty?”

You expected him to say something in agreement, or tease Theo lightly, but your question was met with silence.

You glanced over, curious as to what caught his attention. Mattheo’s eyes were laser focused on Theo’s lower half. You followed his line of sight, confused as to what he was looking at, when you realized.

The blood from your busted knuckles had smeared itself all over Theo’s cock.

“Suck Teddy off.” The demand left your lips before you could even fully think it through.

Neither boy seemed disinterested in your proposition, if the way Mattheo all but scrambled down the bed as he leapt onto your boyfriend was any indication.

Mattheo kneeled between Theo’s thighs and pinned down his hips, practically drooling at the perverse sight in front of him.

Theo moaned brokenly as he felt Mattheo’s tongue lick a long stripe up his dick before taking him fully into his mouth. You hummed appreciatively at the gorgeous view in front of you, reaching out to stroke your hand along Theo’s hip and thigh.

The dorm was quickly filled with the sweet sounds of Theodore’s little moans and sighs, and the filthy wet sounds of Mattheo’s mouth.

He drew Theo closer and closer to his release. But right as your sweetest lover’s body began to shake, you caught sight of one of your brat’s hands subtly sneaking between his legs. You growled, tightening your grip in his hair to warn him to pull off.

As soon as Mattheo pulled off of Theo’s cock, panting for air, you harshly grabbed his jaw and yanked his head up to face you.

“Greedy fucking whore,” you sneered, “I told you not to touch yourself. Apologize to Theo for being such a self-centered brat.”

“S-sorry! So-sorry! I-I’m sorry, T-Theo!”

“Good boy,” you murmur, petting his hair and lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. “Good, love. Continue.”

Mattheo let out a shaky breath, still reeling from the whiplash of your sudden gentleness as he leaned back down to continue his earlier ministrations.

He quickly realized why you’d been so suddenly sweet when he felt your hand start roughly palming him through his trousers. He whined around Theo’s cock, which in turn made Theodore gasp and moan loudly.

You grinned at your boys’ reactions as you leaned down to murmur in Mattheo’s ear, “You can cum if you get Teddy off, alright sweetheart?”

Sparked with renewed interest at the incentive, Mattheo resumed sucking off Theo with vigor. Theo’s thighs shook as he babbled incoherently, a mix of “Fuck!”s, “Merlin-”s, and “Y/n!”s.

“Good boys, that’s it,” you cooed sweetly, brushing sweaty curls off of Theo’s forehead. “You’re just so close, aren’t you, my love?”

Theo sobbed pitifully and nodded. “Pl-please- Y/n- please!”

“Go ahead,” you whispered, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

With your permission, Theo fell apart with a loud moan, his entire body shaking and spasming. You continued palming Mattheo, intent on keeping good on your promise.

“Come whenever you’re ready, Riddle,” you murmured. He had pulled off of Theo by now, and stared up at you with wide, glazed-over eyes. You wiped a smear of cum from the corner of his lips with your thumb, grinning teasingly at the pair of them as you promptly stuck it in your mouth and swirled your tongue around the digit.

With one final moan, Mattheo’s body stiffened up and broke down into shudders as he was wracked with the force of his orgasm. His arms gave out and he collapsed onto the bed, tucking his face into the hollow where Theo’s thigh met his pelvis.

You gave both of your boys a minute to collect themselves, murmuring gentle praise as you littered their faces with soft kisses. “Both so good for me, my best boys. So perfect.”

You sat in a contented quiet for a few more minutes, just caressing them gently. But once their breathings had steadied out, they startled you by sharing a look and abruptly tugging you down and rolling over on top of you.

“Your turn now, love.”

[codenamecynic]

Then, and Again  (For @polkadotfoxx  f!OC mage, f!OC templar, set in a world where the Inquisitor recruited the mages to the Inquisition.  Warning for death - sort of.)

They haven’t seen the sun in months.

Lynna remembers the Blight – but doesn’t.  The Darkspawn never touched Hasmal, never even claimed the southern shore of the Waking Sea, but she remembers tales of how the land turned dark and dead.  The horde brings the rain, they said, but this is more than that.  The sky glows a pulsating, hungry green that one by one consumes the stars.

Beside her, Saf quietly uncorks one of the few vials of precious lyrium they have left.  It’s a muddy color and radiates a song that registers off-key, but they haven’t had the pure blue stuff for some time.

At least it’s not red.  Saf still has some standards, even if the bar has dropped so low it drags the dirt.

It’s not red.

Not yet.

“Stop worrying,” Saf grouses from her left, and immediately she glares, spits back.

“I never worry.”

Saf only chuckles, the sound tight around the new scar that splits the side of her face, still pink and raw where her helmet failed to protect her from a demon’s claws.

“That’s your job,” she adds, quietly, an afterthought.  A memory.  A whisper in the Circle library, pages fluttering like moth wings and flames perfectly controlled behind lantern glass.

Saf tips back the vial and doesn’t hear her.

**

They’re not going to win.

The soldiers around her gird themselves with expressions like ploughshares hammered into blades, crude and grim.  The walls of Redcliffe Keep rise above them, dark against the darker gloom.  The light itself writhes with anarchic glee, giving lie to figures with too many arms, too many eyes.

Too many.

This is how the Inquisition dies, led by desperation, bureaucrats, and children fashioned into toy soldiers on the anvil at the edge of the world – one final blow before the long fall into the abyss.

Lynna’s never been afraid of falling.  She relishes the feeling of wind in her hair, of the tingle and drop in the pit of her stomach that comes from standing far too close to the edge.

Saf isn’t afraid to fall either, she just worries about the landing.

A swath of monstrosities tears through the ranks in front of them, too corrupted to be called templars.  Lynna doesn’t think of them that way anymore, can’t when they’re little more than automatons of burning stone and hunger.  They devour everything, grinding flesh, bone and shield beneath their crystalline feet, and hot blood sprays across her face and neck as a scream is cut short by the wide sweep of a blade that nearly catches her.

Saf pushes her back, nudges her behind her shield.  She’s good with it now, her arm riddled with muscle that ripples beneath the skin like the backs of fish disturbing the surface of a pool.

She wants to see the ocean again.  Wants to feel the water pulling at her feet, eroding sand away beneath her toes. ��Before her the battle heaves and they rush forward, reckless cries that she can feel reverberate within her chest lost in the snap-boom of her magic, loosed and wild.  Fire blooms like the first green shoot through cobblestones, spraying shrapnel everywhere.

The hole they make fills up, spills over.

**

They fall.

They fall and fall and fall, toppling like dominos and pieces on a chess board that none of them can see.  They are pawns without a queen, and they have no hope of turning the tide.  Instead they will stand like the story of the Grey Wardens she heard once upon a time, breaking the waves of the impossible with their bodies, a bulwark against the innocent and the end of the world.

Only there are no innocents anymore, no civilians in the apocalypse.  And no one knows where the Grey Wardens have gone.

Her breath comes hard in her chest, thick with smoke and smog.  Her legs burn, her arms ache, and she barely stumbles aside as a beast too large to be a man barrels through the crowd.  Her staff splinters under its feet, six of their soldiers laid low in its wake.

"I don't know how long we can keep this up," someone says.  She looks to Saf, who only shakes her head.

They both know that isn't the point.

**

It was bound to happen eventually.

That's what she thinks, always, in those moments when they shave it just a little too close, a grudging draw snatched from the jaws of defeat.  It's what she thinks when the sound of metal shearing off a shield splits the air around the crackle of lightning from her own fingers and Saf stumbles back, the spur of a glowing red crystal thrust through her middle.

They were always going to die.  She just usually assumed it would be because of something she'd done. A smoking crater with their name on it, she'd joke, and Saf's eyes would roll.

Probably better that it wasn't her fault. Saf deserved better.

Saf pretty much always deserved better.  The templar monster attached to her friend who died screaming in a column of fire from the sky, not as much.

“Lynna-”

“Don’t be stupid.”  The soldiers behind them surged forward, rushing headlong into the lights and the blades, and at least it would never be said that Ferelden went quietly to its death.  She just wasn’t sure who would be left to say anything at all.

“You should go.”

“I said shut up!”

Saf didn’t even blink, one gloved hand curled around the shard of corrupted lyrium burning through her midsection.  Lynna bent over her, and was waved away.  “Leave it, it’s- fine.”

“Well if you want to just lie there bleeding all over the ground, you’ll get no help from me.”

“Then lift me up, you idiot.”

**

Saf is a heavy drunk, and she staggers like one, her arm slung over Lynna’s shoulders.  There is still fighting in the distance where the best of their soldiers press at the foot of the wall, but all around them is death.  It encroaches from behind, rifts blinking into existence at their backs and already long-limbed creatures stalk their prey.

Corypheus is only toying with them now.  The nightmare is real, bubbling beneath their feet, clawing up from below with hands too like her own.

“I’m ready,” Saf tells her, the words bubbling around the blood frothing at her lips, and drops her shield.  “Go, Lynna.  Go.”

It clangs against the ground, tinny and hollow like an empty bowl.

Lynna doesn't listen, because Lynna never listens, and feels the cold, sharp shards of a smite scream through her on the power of Saf’s dying breath.

Then she's gone, the stubborn light in her eyes winking out like stars devoured before her armored knees hit the ground, and Lynna reaches for the last thing she has left.

Saf's sword has always been too big for her, and she too small for it.  They don’t get along.  The blade is dented, marred and scratched, smudged with ash, and she has to take it in both hands to hold it steady.

She's always known it could come to this. She's seen it before, the pause like the quiet before the storm as the world holds its breath.

But the storm is breaking all around them and its voice has howled for so long she feels deaf. Numb.

Certain.

Green lights streak the sky like the last flash of sunlight on the horizon, and the demons that Saf pushed back draw near.  She can feel the tickle of their voices in her mind, the pull of their thoughts at her own.  Promises, temptations, whispers, whispers, whispers, and Saf on the ground at her side, arm bent and raised near her head as though in salute.

A templar, even now.

She deserves better than this.  Deserves better than to be some unclaimed corpse on a battlefield, or worse, a puppet for some demon.  Lynna never has been worth much, but Saf -

Her friend.

Her only friend.

Saf is worth everything.

There is already fire in her eyes when the blade sinks into her stomach, flames licking her hair and up the side of her face.  The power is there, ready, just beneath her flesh, and she pulls it around herself with all her might, feeling it build and swell until it crackles and bursts through her skin.

“Bye, Saf.  I'll see you on the other-"

**

“-side!  LYNNA!”

“Whosa? Wassat?” Lynna sat up and was immediately hit in the face with a shoe.  Fortunately it was one of her shoes and not Saf’s giant manly boot of death, all armored up and festooned with the blood of their enemies.  And all, you know.  Muddy.

“What the shitty fuck.”

The blond warrior stared at her from across the room, half in and half out of the window.  It was impossible to tell what time it was with Saf filling up most of the window frame with her long legs and broad shoulders and the mountain of incredulity and disapproval of anything Lynna was ever doing that she carried around on her shoulders like Commander Cullen’s fancy fur coat.

“I said turn over on your side.  You were snoring.”

“Lies.”

“Not.”

“Slander and libel.”

“It has to be printed to be libel.”

“You hit me with a shoe!”

“That still doesn’t make it libel.”

“No, that makes it assault.  And rude.  Extremely rude.”

Saf just snorted and turned to slip out the window again onto the roof, leaving Lynna to sit up in the darkness.  She put her shoe on, looked around for the other, couldn’t find it and gave up in short order, clomping one-sidedly across the floor to muscle in next to Saf, who signed irritably and blew a puff of smoke out over the rooftop.

“Did you roll that yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“I can tell, it’s garbage.  Give it to me.”

Saf (who clearly knew better at this point than to argue with any of the unquestionable truths that fell from the mouth of her friend and erstwhile self-appointed sidekick like - things that fell from the sky - rain or something - whatever) looked annoyed, but handed over what amounted to a handful of fitfully smoking herbs in tattered rolling papers.

Maker.  It’s like Saf had never been a teenager.  Ever.  

“I thought you weren’t smoking these anymore,” she said, shaking out the charred bits and carefully repacking the roll.  Not that smoking elfroot was the preferred way of utilizing its medicinal properties.  In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure it really did anything at all except stink up your clothes, but it was better than chewing the leaves.  In some light Saf’s teeth still looked a bit green.

“I had that dream again.”  Lynna’s silence and pointed lack of eye contact wasn’t enough to dissuade Saf from the conversation.  “Don’t give me that, I know you had it too.  You were talking in your sleep.”

Lynna sighed, annoyed.  “Was I talking in my sleep, or snoring then? It’s hard to do both.”

“You manage.”  Saf cast her a wry look out of the corner of her eye, and she made a face, handing back the stupid elfroot cigar.  At least it wouldn’t fall apart now as soon as it was lit, and out of early morning pique she lit a spark between her thumb and forefinger in front of Saf’s face as she fumbled with the matches, almost close enough to catch her hair on fire.

Saf was not amused, which was perfectly normal.  Lynna fidgeted awkwardly for a long moment, tucking her sleep shirt down around her bent knees.  “They’re just dreams.  It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know it doesn’t, but…”  Saf shrugged.  “Do you ever think about what could have happened?  When the Inquisitor…”  The templar - former templar - gestured, smoke trailing a lazy sigil in the air.  “Set the clock back.  Travelled through time.  The future that she saw, and what happened to all of us.  Do you ever think that we-

“Went out in a hail of fire and glory?”  Lynna grinned, felt unexpectedly sick, and grinned even harder.  

“Yeah, that’s the one.”  

“Because we are heroes.”

“Big damn heroes.”

“The biggest.  And most attractive.”

Saf snorted smoke and then coughed, exhaling messily like a dragon with something stuck in its craw.  “Clearly.”

They both laughed, and then sighed, and then leaned together like two tired trees, bracing themselves on each other’s trunks.  Skyhold’s courtyard was silent and still, cast deep in blue by the pre-dawn shadows.  It still looked a bit strange.  Not glowy enough.  Not enough green.

“Saf.”

“What?”

“Don’t die.”

[cjr09]

the rumour come out

[johannesviii]

By Popular Demand Of Nobody And I’m Disappointed in Y’all: a compilation of some of my old Twelfth Doctor textpost memes

[images: various screenshots from Doctor Who with text posts pasted on them.

1- Twelve, right after his regeneration - “Well, looks like I’m older again.”

2- Twelve, playing his guitar in the TARDIS - “Picture an Owl ripping A Killer Guitar Solo…. Jast Fucking Shredding On Guitar… really Making Those Strings Sing”

3- Twelve looking at Clara, all awkward and leaning away from her - “I want to make friends but at the same time no”

4- Twelve putting his sonic glasses on - “*brushes eyebrows* *doesn’t brush hair*”

5- Twelve sending the Boneless back to their dimension - “concept: me, scaring all the bad things away”

6- Twelve talking and arguing during the climax of the Zygons double episode - “There’s no right or wrong just a bunch of fucking idiots”

7- Twelve adding sugar in his coffee - “Me: I like my coffee black just like my soul.” “Me: haha just kidding *dumps a shit ton of creamer and sugar into coffee*”

8- Twelve running - “Me, jumping from one emotional extreme to the next: parkour”

9- Bill and Twelve in a spaceship with things burning in the background - “I have a PhD in getting myself into really bad situations”

10- Twelve at the top of the castle from Heaven Sent - “I’m 12000000 years old and what is this”.]

[theincompetentgenius]

Plz make headcanons for Sirius and Edgar with s/o that outsmarts them

“Hello! Can I request headcanons for Ikemen Revolution Sirius Oswald of what would happen if MC was able to outsmart his strategies and made a better strategy by herself???”

Alrighty, after 1000 years I have finally risen from the dead. Now, I decided to combine these 2 requests because they’re pretty similar and ask for the same suitor. Hope that’s ok with you!

Sirius Oswald

Outsmarting Sirius is hard. This man is the closest mankind will ever get to perfect, so you’re going to have to be the next Albert Einstein to pull one over him. The only times you’d really need to outsmart him is when you really want to help him, but he’s being stubborn again (and giving you baby tasks).

If you’re clever with a conscience, then you’d probably think of a bunch of fickle excuses to avoid Sirius’s enjoyable busywork. Maybe you’d even be able to outwit him into bringing you along onto one of his missions (this is highly unlikely, but not impossible).

If you’re more mischievous, you’d probably trick some of the other Black Army officers to do all the busy work for you. It’s as simple as saying, “The Queen of Hearts has requested for you all to do such-and-such.” They wouldn’t doubt you because you’re Alice-- one of the Black Army’s closest allies. That leaves you with all the time in the world to get into the real action.

For a more dangerous task (like fighting on the front-lines or doing espionage), you’ll have to sneak out and follow Sirius. Try gathering intel from before, so you have a general idea of where you need to go (reach certain stops before he does and wait for his arrival). Don’t tail him for the entire trip because he will find out within an instant. Also, don’t leave any footprints, wear perfume, or do anything that could give you away. Sirius already has heightened senses, so you want to minimize your presence as much as possible. 

When he inevitably finds out that you tailed him into the middle of a war-zone, he’s going to be upset. Not only are you going to get hurt, but you also don’t understand the consequences of your actions. If you kill someone (or let someone go), you could significantly change the outcome of the battle. Every life matters here.

However, he’s also slightly impressed that you followed him without him knowing. When talking about this in the far future, Sirius might chuckle and note that he was too tensed to notice (but all the other officers will attribute it to his old age). It gives him a little more hope that you won’t get hurt. After all, if you were able to evade his sharp senses, then perhaps you can handle a little bit on your own.

His surprise increases by 500% when he sees you plotting with the other soldiers on how to maneuver around the opposition, surrounding them to give the illusion that there are more Black Army soldiers than there truly are. He had a different plan, but your’s seemed pretty solid too. 

In fact, it was good enough for him to put to the test. As the opposing army prepared for battle, Sirius’s men crept up on them slowly from each corner. What was merely 500 soldiers, seemed more like 1000. The opposition ended up retreating, earning a solid victory for the night.

From then on, Sirius never underestimates you. Whenever he’s planning a new tactic, he’ll come to you for your advice. If the two of you ever engage in combat, he’ll be paying extra close attention to your movements. And when it comes to a little romance, he never teases you without preparing for another type of war in return.

Flirting becomes much more fun in that way. Just when Sirus thinks he has you wrapped around his finger, you manage to flip it back on him. He’s absolutely tongue-tied and stunned, with heat rushing to his cheeks. If you play your cards right, you just might trick him into confessing first. But be warned: you’re going to pay for that.

Edgar Bright

............

You’re kidding me, right? Outsmart the biggest snake in the entire history of the Cradle? Good luck with that. He probably knows your parent’s name, your favorite book, and your credit card number just by looking at you. You breathe and suddenly he can write a whole analysis about you and probably get 95% of it correct.

Ok, I might be exaggerating a little, but Edgar is probably the only person that is even harder to outsmart than Sirius. You’re going to have to play your cards correctly 100% or else you’ll be caught in something much bigger. If he finds out you’re scheming something, there’s no guarantee that you’ll come out of this with your dignity intact.

However, it’s not entirely possible. The best way to go about this is to get off his radar: make yourself as uninteresting and boring as possible. You could play dumb, pretend to be emotionless, or just keep yourself out of his distance. When you do interact with him, try not to act too suspicious (or stupid) because that will send off the red sirens in his head. Instead, just be a meek (or loud) ditz who seems to get flustered easily. There’s gonna be a lot of acting, so make sure you do it right.

Now you can’t stay invisible forever: he’ll find you scheming at one point. While he might not have every detail planned out, Edgar knows that something’s a little off about you. He’ll turn the tables and begin pursuing you. Whether it’s spending more time around you, asking about you to his friends, and even spying on you, Edgar is willing to go all-out to figure out what’s going on.

This gives you the perfect opportunity to create a diversion. Whether it’s flirting or being a chaotic dumbass, you should try to take advantage of the situation. See how much you can get out of him. With more time, he might spill something that gives you your missing piece (while he’s out here thinking that he big-brained you).

But make sure your guard is up in the process. The Jack of Hearts has an incredibly slippery tongue. All he needs is a small reaction out of you, and he suddenly has all the information that he needs. Your brain and nerves need to be made out of steel-- or else your entire plan is going to collapse on you.

After all this toiling, you finally manage to get to your goal (before he does). You can’t wait to rub it in his face and go around screaming about your 12000000 IQ play. But when you do, he just gives his usual sly smile. It’s just a punchable face, but you’re not going to let his headass ruin it for you. You’ve finally outsmarted the world’s biggest rat and there’s nothing in the world that can change it.

As you rejoice with the rest of the Red Army for your accomplishment, Edgar watches you with an amused smile. But on the inside, his ego is hurt. He’s surprised that you managed to outwit him, even though he knew there was something strange going on. After sipping on his drink, he’ll get up and congratulate you on your win. He’s proud that his little Alice has gone from a sweet ditz to a conniving fox. Perhaps you two are more alike than he thought.

Then, he grabs your arm and pulls you towards his chest. Edgar places his lips against your ears, whispering so low that you can barely make out the words he’s saying.

“This is only the beginning. I promise you that you will never win again.” 

He lets you go, giving the sweetest smile. No one would have any idea that he just whispered the world’s biggest threat in such a sweet voice.

[thecryptokeepers]

Is That You, Satoshi? $12,000,000 in Bitcoin Suddenly Spent After Lying Dormant for 10 Years

https://dailyhodl.com/2020/10/12/is-that-you-satoshi-12000000-in-bitcoin-suddenly-spent-after-lying-dormant-for-10-years/

[donghaechewinggum]

hey look we finally have an official lightstick after 12000000 years :'' its so beautiful :'))

[janicecpitts]

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250 bpd facility

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[skilltradecontractor]

Asphalt Plant For Sale

Contents

Hot mix asphalt plant

Asphalt plant nearby

Including asphalt plants

Asphalt batch mix

250 bpd facility

Cost To Replace Driveway Read our expert side paving company southern maryland by side comparison of repaving and resurfacing driveways and find out which is the best choice for you. Compare repaving vs

<img src='https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jHiU_TymZgg/hqdefault.jpg?sqp=-oaymwEjCPYBEIoBSFryq4qpAxUIARUAAAAAGAElAADIQj0AgKJDeAE=&rs=AOn4CLAGw83TkHT6NXYh6fRF-iAEJjWgdw' alt='China manufacturer 120t/h hot mix asphalt plant for sale ‘ class=’alignleft’>However, you would not want your ad to show up when keywords talked about an “asphalt paver for sale” or an “asphalt plant nearby.” Therefore, you would want to set up negative keywords that may inclu…

Used Terex Magnum 140 Asphalt Plant in Cancún, QR, Mexico for sale, inspected and guaranteed. 7 m3 4 bin feeder, 125 in. x 22 ft frt disch conv, 23 ft x 4 ft counterflow dry mixer, CF04-12, 12000000 BTU burner w/blower, recycle entry collar, 400 bags, PLC Automated System Control, Tri/A trailer.

Items 1 – 13 of 13 … You can buy and sell Asphalt Plants from any all manufacturers, including brands such as ADM, Almix, Barber-Greene, Terex. Browse the latest …

The two asphalt plants make Citgo, through its Carco subsidiary, the largest asphalt supplier on the U.S. East Coast. Carco has been for sale for about a year as would-be bidders for an 84,000 barrel …

Asphalt Driveway With Pavers Learn about the three installation options for concrete and asphalt overlay from the experts at Belgard Commercial. Find all the details on paver overlay here!

We have a huge selection of asphalt plants and parts for sale, including asphalt plants, asphalt silos, bag houses, burners, cold feeders, dryers, hot oil tanks and  …

Known to some as the hot mix asphalt plant for sale, the key operation of your asphalt batch mix plant is usually to make HMA, an abbreviation for hot mix asphalt (I suppose you now see where the init…

Reliable Asphalt New and Used Asphalt Equipment Listings | Buy Used Asphalt Equipment.

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Control Tower from Stansteel Model RM30 Asphalt Batch Plant – All offers accepted! Will sell components individually! 5 Images. 0 Videos. Call for price.

Astec HMA portable, relocatable and stationary, batch mixing and continuous asphalt and processing plants.

Construction Union The CFMEU represents over 100,000 construction workers. Our main role is to protect lives by upholding health and safety standards in this dangerous industry and

The Company has previously announced that it has successfully moved the equipment from its 250 bpd facility in Maeser, Utah to its lease site at Asphalt Ridge … 90 days off of the payback period for …

Reports of a fire in Transcona started coming in around 10 a.m. Monday. (Lyzaville Sale/CBC)

The model is named after its capacity. Aimix has produced mobile concrete batching plant for sale with capacity ranging from 25 m3/h to 120 m3/h.

Lafarge put the asphalt plants and road-paving business up for sale last fall because they did not fit with Lafarge’s core mining business — and because they put the company into direct competition w…

Asphalt Paving Asheville Nc The $34.7-million paving contract for the entire 9 mi. (14.5 km) went to APAC of Asheville, NC. This contract also included the construction of a

The Winnipeg Fire Paramedic Service released dramatic aerial footage Thursday of the fight to keep this week’s massive industrial fire at Pounder Emulsions in Transcona under control.

via Check This Out

[mylifeinspoons]

Some of the oddities I’ve experienced so far with a visible disability

Before i begin note that i do not represent any gorup of people but obly display my own personal views , I do not intentd to insult or upset anyone, if anyone has any questions or want to request i put more filters on  the tags please message me so i can do so. Also note that this post is simple my own way of airing out my probles, a form of therapy if you will.  In 2014 there were over 12000000 disabled people residing in the UK (this is about 1/5 of the population) the majority of these are not visible disabilities with roughly only 2% of the UK population are wheelchair users. I can’t say for sure that everyone with a disability (noticeable or otherwise) has experienced some of the things I’m about to share, and I can’t say for sure that able-bodied people have never experienced some of these, but I can tell you about some of the oddities I have experienced.  One of the strangest things I get asked is ‘what happened?’ by complete strangers, I never know what to say. The comedian in me wants to create some extraordinary tale of bravery and heroism that is not only impossible but truly unbelievable. The heart in me however want to nurture their curiosity and explain to them in painstaking detail how the only ‘thing’ that happened was the weather that morning or a bad night, I want to explain that I’m not always in a chair and the only thing that puts me in it is life. Usually I just settle for ‘genetics’, maybe I’ll try something new next time. Perhaps the next most commonly strange things people do is they say that they’ll pray I get better or I’ll be able to walk again soon. I know that it comes from a good place and that they mean well, but sometimes I just want to stand up and cry ‘It’s a miracle, by Jeeves you’ve done it, I can walk again!’, thankfully (I’m sure) this urge has not yet overpowered my sensibilities. And although I know these people believe they are being kind, but it makes me feel like a liar/fraud when I get home and manage to stand on my own two feet, it makes me feel unworthy of displaying by badge of disability via the wheelchair I use even though the majority of wheelchair users are capable of some mobility outside of/without the use of their chair, but may choose not to due to a variety of factors the most popular being pain, and that my ability to walk(some may class it more as a stumble or an impression of a baby foal/giraffe)does not make me not-disabled.  One of the most difficult things to deal with is usually with people that I know and interact with on a regular basis (for me that would be family/college personnel), and although I know these people certainly mean no harm, sometimes they do (don’t worry they aren’t chucking me down the stairs…yet). For this I may need to give you a little more information about me to understand. I have a degenerative illness called EDS, this means I and my joints are not the same one-day to the next, when I first started college I used a cane to try to reduce the frequent trips I made (both to the floor and A&E) or at least to help me stand after falling. Recently my doctors and myself decided that a wheelchair may be a little more effective at helping me live a usual teenage-life, this change happened just before the return back to college and thus I began the new year with my shiny new wheels. Though most people were kind (or at least trying to be) there were occasionally small things that made everything more difficult. I often still have people remind me that they ‘don’t see the chair’ or ‘there’s nothing that I can’t do’ and though these sentiments come from a good place, it isn’t quite right. Not seeing the chair often feels like denying a part of me, though it doesn’t define me it is a trait just as my eye colour (or fabulous clothes) is a part of me. And of course, there is stuff I can’t do, I’m sure most of you can tell where I’m going here, but ignoring my inability to do something doesn’t make me able to do it (who knows maybe it does and I’m just being cynical... I’ll give it a go and get back to you). But there’s also the opposite of this, where people assume I can’t do anything, I’ll give you an example. Part of my course requires some crime-scene-photography, I’ll admit that sometimes my hand gets cramp and can make tasks difficult but photography is one of the more simple tasks I can do, unless of course someone takes the camera thinking they are being helpful and state ‘I’ll take the pictures for you, because… you know…*vaguely points to me*’, and I know that they are trying to help, but not giving me a choice really doesn’t help. Ill-health is strongly associated with age, in 2012, 67% of those aged 75 and over had a longstanding illness or disability, comparing with 14% of those aged 16–24 and of these the most common disability being mobility at 58%. In March 2013, the unemployment rate for disabled people stood at 12%, compared to 7.6% of non-disabled people (don’t worry my point will come along shortly). 1 in 6 of those who become disabled while in work lose their job during the first year after becoming disabled, most commonly this is not due to voluntary leave. Keeping in mind these facts, the number 1 thing that I would like to tell you all is that I do not choose to be ill, I do not choose to get around via a wheelchair because I think it would be fun (I think the injuries it causes can testify that). One of the first things I think about when I’m asked about the one thing I would change, it’s other people’s opinions of disabled people. Though older people are more likely to be ill/have mobility impairment, this doesn’t mean that young people can’t be sick. Do not mistake my lack of employment as apathy for work, it is not from a lack of trying. I admit that I am stubborn, so if you see me ask for help/receive help do not assume I am being lazy, the only reason I ever ask for or accept help is when I am so exhausted I cannot do anything else but ask for help(my pride be damned). Also if you ever see someone in a wheelchair clearly struggling and you wish to help them somehow, ask first. Everytime someone just comes over and starts pushing me without annoncing themselves it feels like my heart tries to escape the compounds of its cell, in other words, it sares the hell outta’ me.   Disabled people are significantly more likely to be victims of crime than non-disabled people. This gap is largest among 16-34 year-olds, where 39% of disabled people reported being victims of crime, compared to 28% of non-disabled people. It is estimated there are 62,000 disability motivated hate crimes each year on average. 56% of disabled people said they had experienced hostility, aggression or violence from a stranger because of their condition or impairment. After these facts i’m sure it’s understandable why it freaks me out so much when someone starts moving me without notce. If there are any mistakes in this piece it is all mine, i might have to check back tomorrow, for now im over tired and wim going to head to bed. Good-night all.