Over the next few days (until 2/24), if you would go to this link:
Thanks in advance!
I've had a Siberian Husky mix and a purebred Siberian Husky who were both escape artists. The mix (Timber, who sadly passed away several years back) just ran away because he was bored and usually I found him within an hour or two not far from home. The one time he was missing for more than 12 hours, I later found out that one of my crazy neighbors had taken him inside with the idea that she was going to keep him, even though he had tags on! When she put him outside for a potty break, he immediately jumped her fence and came home.
The purebred Sibe escaped because he wanted to run and didn't always get a chance to. After he killed a couple of ducks, I had to send him back to the breeder, not because I wanted to but because he would have had to be muzzled whenever in public (as he was declared by animal control to be a "dangerous dog.") He wasn't dangerous to humans or other dogs and, in fact, was learning to be my service dog. I haven't heard from the breeder in a long time so I hope he's doing okay with her. Man, do I miss that dog.
Rating: PG-13 for now; R later
Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Dave Rossi, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid – all “Criminal Minds”; Dexter Morgan – “Dexter”
Author’s note: Crossover fic between two of my favorite serial killer shows. One of those what-if things. If you’ve never watched Dexter or Criminal Minds, I highly recommend them both. If you have, I hope you enjoy this. Spoilers for Dexter S4; CM S6. I am writing this without seeing Dexter S5 so consider this AU from there.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to CM or Dexter. A pity, that.
Poets are sultans, if they had their will;
For every author would his brother kill.
( The lone wolf )
It’s been decided. On October 20th, 2010, we will wear purple in honor of the 6 gay boys who committed suicide in recent weeks/months due to homophobic abuse in their homes at at their schools. Purple represents Spirit on the LGBTQ flag and that’s exactly what we’d like all of you to have with you: spirit. Please know that times will get better and that you will meet people who will love you and respect you for who you are, no matter your sexuality. Please wear purple on October 20th. Tell your friends, family, co-workers, neighbors and schools.
RIP Tyler Clementi, Seth Walsh (top)
RIP Justin Aaberg, Raymond Chase (middle)
RIP Asher Brown and Billy Lucas. (bottom)
REBLOG to spread a message of love, unity and peace.
Hope you like it.
You are Strength
Courage, strength, fortitude. Power not arrested in the act of judgement, but passing on to further action, sometimes obstinacy.
This is a card of courage and energy. It represents both the Lion's hot, roaring energy, and the Maiden's steadfast will. The innocent Maiden is unafraid, undaunted, and indomitable. In some cards she opens the lion's mouth, in others she shuts it. Either way, she proves that inner strength is more powerful than raw physical strength. That forces can be controlled and used to score a victory is very close to the message of the Chariot, which might be why, in some decks, it is Justice that is card 8 instead of Strength. With strength you can control not only the situation, but yourself. It is a card about anger and impulse management, about creative answers, leadership and maintaining one's personal honor. It can also stand for a steadfast friend.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
Interesting, verrrrrrry interesting.
They talk about finding a metal collar or ring built into the ship and speculate about it being some sort of oven. How about a forge, anyone?
Here's the sample text. (Sorry, f-listers, I tried to put it behind a cut but it doesn't seem to be working for me today.)
Andrew was grateful that his eyes were so swollen from the beatings he had received that he didn’t see Sato’s final moments. Hearing his screech of agony then grunts for mercy was bad enough. He never knew exactly what had happened but his imagination conjured up enough ideas that he didn’t need to know. He wished fervently that Sato had succeeded in killing him then taking his own life. It would have been a much kinder fate, all in all. Though he didn't know for certain, he supposed that at least a fortnight had passed since Chang had sent him below with Sato, his orders barked in Chinese so that Andrew had not been able to understand them. Still, he trusted both men and had gone willingly with the servant.
Another rough hand twining in his hair woke him from sleep. At least these men didn’t reek, Andrew found himself considering as the man pressed his member against Andrew’s lips. Half-choking, he fought to do as the man bid, his jaw aching with the effort. The man muttered something then chuckled and Andrew felt his face grow hot with shame even though he understood nothing. When the man peaked, Andrew had no choice but to swallow the man’s seed. As soon as the man staggered out the door, though, Andrew dragged himself to a far corner of the room and vomited, ridding himself of even the few bits of food he had been given. He slumped down and prayed they would leave him alone for a while.
Somehow, he must have fallen asleep. When he woke, it was to the sound of cannon-fire and the rough shaking of the ship under attack. _What do I do?_ Andrew asked himself, trying to keep from whimpering. The sounds and sensations brought back the attack on the Moon-catcher and he wept for the thought that he’d never see Sam Pendleton again. It was only when he heard the thud of boots on the deck above him and the ship began to list to the port that he realized the junk had been captured. He glanced around for a hiding place. Maybe if he wasn’t found he could escape somehow. There was precious little in the hold he occupied, though, and nowhere other than the darkened corners—one of which he already clung to—to hide.
He heard men’s voices suddenly and caught a snatch of conversation as one passed the door but didn’t understand it. Fear, cloying, noisome fear, strangled him suddenly. It was happening again, as it would happen every time, he knew now, as long as he was considered a valuable commodity. If they just treated him as they did any sailor, put him to work as the others, or put him to the sword, he wouldn’t find this so objectionable. But he was good-looking and small compared to most of these men. It made him easy prey.
The latch on the door rattled and the hatch began to swing inward. Andrew closed his eyes and prayed, _Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me._ His eyes opened when he heard the deep voice rumble.
“What have we here?”
(This is from a gay historical romance I'm working on. Original fic.)