we-are-fam-ily

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reblog if you are ASEXUAL, support ASEXUAL PEOPLE, or SECRETLY A DRAGON IN HUMAN FORM

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I got it!

remember all those months ago when i said i was going to make a uquiz? yeah

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Not sanders sides, but important

The Mark Cuban Cost Plus Drugs Company (MCCPDC) is a registered pharmaceutical wholesaler and purchases drugs directly from manufacturers, bypassing middlemen to lower the price of more than 100 medications, it said in a statement.

For example, the leukemia drug imatinib is priced at $47 a month on MCCPDC compared to the $9,657 retail price.

MCCPDC CEO Alex Oshmyansky reached out to Cuban with an idea for a low-cost generic drug company in a cold email. It was launched in January last year. They were motivated in part by “Pharma Bro” Martin Shrkeli’s outrage-producing price hike of the lifesaving drug Daraprim from $13.50 to $750 per tablet while Shrkeli was CEO of Turing Pharmaceuticals. Cuban told Forbes last year the pricing for generic drugs was “ridiculous.” He said he decided to put his name on the company to “show capitalism can be compassionate and to send the message I am all in.” It’s not clear how much he had invested in the company.

—

Reblog to save someone an entire paycheck, or more, on the pharmaceuticals they need.

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Black cats are lucky. (via leahweissmuller)

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A Comedy or A Tragedy

This piece took me FOREVER. This was for a 1k dtiys on my insta ♡♡ but I'll post it here to celebrate reaching 100+ followers :'D thank you guys!!!

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[Don't tag as ship plz ♡]

BONUS PANEL :3

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okay i made another quiz but this time it’s which monster you’ll get to hook up with. reblog with your result!!

#mothman #diagnosed with asexual

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That one post had big Patton and Remus Causing Trouble energy so I had to draw the thing in my silly style. @thatsthat24

If you like it, please reblog it! 83

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You know what is the worst? Being a reader trying to catch up on fics WHILE bring a writer who is behind on writing their own fics.

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Is It Enough?

Nonny prompt: Could you do a DLAMPR (Creativetwins) fic where Roman is having some problems because, one. He has a crush on every single one of his brothers partners and had for a long long time, and two. To avoid confronting that he begins working even harder for Thomas because he knows he can’t slack off because family friendly creativity is practically the base of his whole career and now he’s working himself even harder into a rut because he wants to avoid feelings?

Thanks for the prompt, nonny! This got way the hell longer than I thought I would!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: DLAMPR (with platonic Creativitwins)

Warnings: sympathetic janus, sympathetic remus, poor roman doesn’t feel super self-confident and there’s a hell of a lot of pining

Word Count: 19,900 (I SAID IT GOT LONG DIDN’T I)

Roman loves his family.

He loves them so much he’s glad he’s supposed to; the fire that burns at the center of his chest that rumbles happily when one of them smiles at him, or wraps him up in their arms, it’s so happy, so happy, so happy they’re his.

That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right?

Keep reading

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Maybe he can make people happy

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that ‘pakige?’ post but me, a couple hours after posting a fic, like ‘comints?’

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I wrote this! Sorta!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987527

Thinking abt immortality and how meticulously you’d have to keep track of all of your shit so some nosy historian didnt spot your old journal or coat or copy of a book and call an infuriating time-based finders keepers

“It’s two hundred years old” they say. “It’s essentially public property” they say. It’s a letter you sent to your friend and it’s in a museum now and you’re screaming

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in love

AO3

Ship: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders

TW: depression, mild panic, kissing, mild self-harm

Words: 2407

Summary: Logan is in love. But he’s not nearly ready to admit it.

“…and I mean I know we talk about it a lot, but what do you think Pavlov-”

“Remus?” Logan set his pen down from his notebook.

“Hm?”

“What does it feel like when Thomas is in love?”

Remus let his hands sink to his lap as Logan stared at his notes, almost embarrassed to ask such a question.

-rapid heartbeat

-flushed cheeks

-warmth in chest

“Well, you’ve been around when it happened, haven’t you?”

Logan fidgeted, tapping his pen on the paper. “Well, yes, but it doesn’t really affect me.”

Remus laughed, grinning at the logical side. Logan blushed in embarrassment, looking at Remus.

“What’s so funny?”

“How the hell would you not experience something that affects all of us?”

Logan looked back down. Remus was right. That was stupid.

Keep reading

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Hear me out... Roceit beauty and the beast

What a shame, they cluck over Janus.  He was so handsome.

And he was, for a time, at least.  Janus Épine, the most handsome man in the village.

A liar, sure, and a thief, not that anyone could ever pin their missing coins on him.  Even if his stunning looks couldn’t have gotten him out of trouble, that silver tongue could, crooning sweet reassurances and accidentally! oh, I’m so sorry, mon cheri prodding at weaknesses.

He never was caught for anything.  After a while, they stopped accusing him.  Everyone knew he was doing... favors, for the constables, no matter how much he protested, voice unusually rough and face enflamed.  It was just his nature.

What a shame, they mourn over Janus.  He was so happy. 

And he was, sometimes, at least – when he was buried in another book, of dashing rogues and high-stakes adventure, and the sort of love that didn’t exist, expect for between aged-yellow pages.  Not in this tiny village, where girls put their hands on his arms possessively, and men watched him far too closely when he walked away, hands clenched but head held high.

It was a fleeting sort of happiness, when he took from them – coins and gold and silver.  Payment, he thought.  Payment for each voice that jeered after him, asking about the dowry, payment for each step that took them too close, payment for gazes that took in his dark skin and golden eyes and purred words like exotic, like he was to be just another pet in a rich man’s menagerie. 

What a shame, they shake their heads.  He was too greedy.

And that is the way they like to tell it, in the village Janus once lived.  How the most handsome man in their village, lovable scoundrel that he was, charmed each and every person in his path out of their senses and money, then moved onto the next one, tossing his old lovers away like used tissue.  They like to talk about how he ran out.  About how he tossed his head and rode off on a fine steed into the woods, in search of more hearts to break, only to come across an enchanted castle.  Only to become a prisoner.

If you asked him, which no one bothered to do, he was running into the woods, thorns whipping at his skin and rain matting his hair.  The village’s most beloved son was darkening Janus’ door again.  Remy didn’t like being told no.

He collapsed in front of a fire that lit itself and asked, quietly, for sanctuary.

What a shame, they mutter, he was understood.

The prince of the castle is a large, furred beast, with great gleaming horns and claws the length of Janus’ fingers.  When he sees Janus for the first time, he’s so startled he trips over his cape and goes tumbling down a flight of stairs.

He sulks in his room for a day after that, mourning his one chance in almost three decades to make a dramatic entrance.

Janus finds him at what was once a piano, scuffed and gouged with marks.  The beast is hunched over it, claws slowly and painfully tapping out a melody he half-recognizes.

I used to play, the beast says.  I miss music.

Cautiously, Janus sits on the bench next to him.  The beast takes up over half of it, but the castle is cold, and his fur is soft and warm.  Well then, he says.  I suppose you’ll have to teach me.

After months of tutelage, Roman watches, something like reverence in his eyes, as Janus plucks melodies out of the air, hangs them there, shimmering, and he begins to sing.

What a shame, they berate, he was trusted.

The beast shows him the enchanted rose almost half a year in.  There’s no preamble, no show, just a quiet request for Janus to stop as the human is reading aloud one of the scripts Roman is so fond of.

It’s a beautiful thing, red as blood, with thirty something petals scattered around the base.  Janus watches as another delicately falls.

I was an arrogant child, Roman says.

I can’t imagine, Janus drawls, and the beast laughs his strange growling joy.

I insulted a passing witch.  I refused her plea for sanctuary, because her appearance frightened me, and I...

His voice grows thick, and Janus leans into his side.

What happens, Janus asks, when the curse is broken?

Freedom, she told me, Roman recounts.  Freedom.

What a shame, they huff, he was treasured.

Do you not think, Janus asks, once, curled into the warmth of his beast’s side, that I am beautiful?

The beast laughs, and touches his face with one gentle claw.

In face of your clever tongue and biting wit and silver voice, Roman says, what need have I for beauty?

Janus expects him to say it, in times like this.  Waits with baited breath for that confirmation that this fantasy growing like so many roses in his mind is shared, but it never comes.

Roman knows that a beast doesn’t deserve a love like Janus.

What a shame, they grouse, he was wanted.

The hunting dog finds Janus tending to his garden – squash and celery for soup, roses to braid into fur and hair – and its owner is not far behind.

Janus?  Remy strides forward, squeezing through the gates.  Where have you been?

Roman, Janus calls, voice hoarse and desperate, Beast!

Roman roars out of the mansion, teeth long and claws bared.  Remy runs.

The dog stays, and Janus names her Tige.

Roman laughs and congratulates himself on his beastly performance.  Janus rolls his eyes fondly, smile wry, and can’t help but giggle over Remy’s expression.

You were magnificent, he says, indulgently, absolutely beastly.

Too magnificent, as it turns out.  Too beastly.

When the rosy-fingered sunset loses its grip on the sky the next day, a small armada, with torches and pitchforks and knives, breaks down their front door.

They are screaming, mouths flecked with spittle, about a beast who stole away the most handsome man in their village, who took what was theirs.

Run, Janus begs him, Roman, please, hide.

But the beast stands firm.  I won’t let them take you.

Roman manages to hold them off with claws and teeth and roars, until Remy slips behind him silently and slides a knife between his ribs.

Janus screams, and Remy takes him into his arms.

Shh, shh it’s alright.  He can’t have you any more.

Janus claws away from the other man and staggers to Roman’s side, dropping to his knees.  The beast’s breaths come shallowly.

Don’t cry, mon coeur, Roman rasps, gentle claw rising to his face, I love you too much to see you cry.

What a shame, they bemoan, he was loved.

Janus kisses his beast.

What a shame, they sob, he was human.

Janus staggers back as a wave of brilliant magic engulfs them.  He makes to cry out for Roman, but stops as something his body shifts.

Scales slither over half his face.  His nails elongate, teeth sharpen.  His legs thicken and coil into a tail.

Behind him, the villagers cry out in fear.

What’s happening!?  Roman cries, rushing to hold him.  His fur hasn’t disappeared, but his hands soften, fingers nimble, and the skin of his face is bare.  His wound is gone.

But Janus laughs, and marvels at his new talons.

No one who saw him would dare call him beautiful.

You said it yourself, he smiles, sharp.  Freedom.

What a shame, they shudder, he was a monster.

He killed at least thirty men, the way they tell it, driven mad by captivity and twisted to the wicked bidding of his beastly lord.  He was a force of nature, a lightning strike with venomous teeth and ripping, clawing talons.

In reality, of the twenty men that attacked Janus’ home, the worst injury suffered was a broken ankle from tripping over his tail, but Janus has never minded the lies that benefit him.

Remy has five pin-point scars on his cheeks, now, from when Janus took him by the jaw and showed him just how helpless someone could feel.  He’s quieter, since then, taciturn.  As time goes on, he finds he minds it less.

They never see Janus, or the beast he has become again.

What a shame, the villagers sigh.  What a shame.

What a shame, Janus says, warm with amusement as he curls up with his husband.  They don’t know a happy ending when they see one.

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Day 10: Dukexiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 10: You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate.

Content warnings: allusions to past suicidal thoughts, just bad mental health past in general, vague bullying, swimming pools, past isolation, minor injury (broken ribs), general anxiety and self deprecation.

Word count: 3.9k

I was very low on time, and very exhausted from work, so I tried something new! I first discovered the concept of ‘bullet fics’ from @illogicallyinclined ‘s hockey au, GO CHECK IT OUT!!! (It’s living in my head rent free for a couple months now)

Keep reading

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The pining! It's beautiful!

Let Me Count The Ways

What a lovely day for queerplatonic pining.

Pairing: queerplatonic LAMP

Word count: 5031

Warnings: a very brief (like, a paragraph) spalsh of angst but mostly schmoopy fluff

Notes: this is maybe the most self indulgent thing i’ve ever written, featuring for aro GOOFBALLS, chinese trans man patton, black logan, more agender virgil because we love consistency and everyones aro and pining because i deserve it.

the title is from How Do I Love Thee? by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

quick rundown of everyones orientations

Roman - oriented (gay) aroace

Virgil - quoiromantic asexual

Patton - bellusromantic gray-ace

Logan - Non-SAM aromantic,

thank you to @airiervessel​ for beta-reading this SCHMOOPfest

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