isisanubis said:

For the short fic meme (you're awesome for doing it again), either 25 or 26 - whichever one grabs you, and c/c, please

25 - Librarian / Avid Reader AU

(I cheated a little, but Clint will be an avid reader, eventually.)

“Homeless dude’s back,” Jasper says, handing Phil a stack of recently-returned books.

Phil automatically looks over at the Young Adult corner, where the same young man has sat for the past three days.

“I’m not sure he’s homeless,” Phil says.  They do have homeless visitors, sometimes.  Everyone ignores library policy and lets them use the bathrooms, and borrow books without a verifiable address.  This guy, though, just seems lonely.

Lonely and frustrated, Phil amends, watching him slam one book back into its place and pull out another, apparently at random.

Phil winces.  “Excuse me,” he says, mentally picturing creased covers, or worse.  Jasper snorts, as though he’s not at least as protective of the books in his sections.

Phil crosses the floor and crouches down beside the guy, who’s leaning back against a wall, out of sight of most of the library’s patrons.

“Did that book personally offend you?” Phil asks.

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So I’m reading my first Leverage Eliot/Parker/Hardison OT3 fic and

"You … you’re not a lesbian," Eliot says. It comes out harsher than he wanted, and he winces at his tone.

Parker looks at him the exact same way she looked at the clerk. “Yeah, I am. A lesbian with a boyfriend and a boy-sex-friend.” She sighs. “Maybe I should get a girlfriend.”

"It would probably help your street cred," Alec agrees gently. "Though you know I support you being a lesbian no matter what, honey pie."

"That’s sweet," Parker says, and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"Lesbians … don’t kiss dudes," Eliot says helplessly. Parker shrugs.

"Who are you to say what lesbians do? Are you a lesbian?"

Alec crosses his arms and turns with Parker to stare at Eliot, as if inviting his response. Eliot scowls.

"No," he says.

"Then shut up. Just for that, I’m having lesbian sex with you later."

Alec and Eliot exchange a glance, uncertain. The elevator bings and opens on their floor. Parker starts walking away.

"Is that – is that a punishment or a reward?" Eliot calls. He and Alec jog to catch up with her.

sihdgkjdfhagkjafg!! This along with an earlier passage about Parker sleeping with boys without penises and I just-

okay but bisexual mark cohen

bisexual mark cohen moving out to new york because that’s where roger’s band is going and saying it’s totally for the art, man

bisexual mark cohen not making any biphobic comments when maureen breaks up with him because he knows her cheating has nothing to do with her being bi

bisexual mark cohen wincing when his parents call her a lesbian

bisexual mark cohen nursing a crush on his very straight best friend for years and maybe he can’t be his boyfriend but he can remind him to take his AZT and eat regularly and maybe get him out of the house once in a while

bisexual mark cohen making angel his muse even though angel is dating collins and trying to play it off as ART

bisexual mark cohen longing for a community of his own but its the 90s and the bi community is only just starting to be its own thing


anonymous said:

Does that hurt? It looks like it hurts.” uwu

"Does that hurt? It looks like it hurts."

"I have an iPad charger embedded in my ass. Of course it fucking hurts!”

Blaine winces and slides his hands under Kurt’s armpits, helping him stand back up. He knows better than to say I told you so. He knows better than to say hey maybe trying to carry me into the bedroom while drunk, with your pants and briefs around your ankles, wasn’t the best idea you ever had. He knows better than to say baby you have a plug embedded in your ass and I’m ten seconds away from laughing.

Instead he gets Kurt lying face down on the sofa and then goes into the kitchen to call his mom.

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The Hangover - Supernatural Style

Ok so this is going to be a (hopefully) 6 part series. That’s how I’ve planned it out anyway xD I really hope it works, it was rather awkward to plan and stuff. This part is kind of short but I’m hoping they’ll get longer as we go. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it! Now, I am moving house tomorrow for uni and my wifi isn’t getting connected until the 23rd *sob*. So it’s going to be after that when the next update it. Sorry about the delay! Enjoy! – Bella xxx


Part 1: The Cheery Chapel

You wake up dazed and slightly confused. As you tried to sit up a painfully throbbing in your head intensified, making you wince involuntarily. Fumbling around on the bedside cabinet, you find a switch and flick the lights on. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to get used to the sudden brightness in the room. Once the pain isn’t too bad, you open your eyes and glance around the motel room you were in…which was not your motel room. Whose room were you in?! Looking around for an idea of where you were, you are suddenly aware of something very warm lying next to you. Now unless someone had gone all The Godfather on you and there was a horse head in your bed, someone was here with you. All you could see of them when you looked down hesitantly was their hand. They were completely covered by the sheet. You slowly pick up the corner of the sheet and in one swift movement, you pull it down revealing…

“Dean?!” You gasp in shock.

“Turn the lights off…” Dean mumbles in response, shielding his eyes.

“Dean we are in bed together and we…yup we are both naked.”

“What?!” Dean cries, sitting upright. He lifts up the sheet as if to confirm that he was indeed naked, then attempts to lift up your side of the sheet too.

“OHHHH no buddy.” You say quickly, grabbing the covers to stop him revealing anything. “I hardly think so.

“Oh come on. I’ve clearly seen you naked.” Dean protests, giving the covers another half-hearted tug. You slap his hand away and pull at the covers as you swing your legs out of bed. As you stand up you take the sheet with you and wrap it around yourself, successfully pulling it completely off Dean.

“Now I can protect my dignity.” You say with a chuckled as Dean yanks a pillow over his crotch.

“Dude. So not cool.”

“Is it just because its morning Dean or are you rather excited about naked me in bed?” You ask with a wink while you collect various items of clothing from around the room.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Dean mutters grouchily, following your example and slowly getting dressed. “Why do I have odd shoes…?”

“Dean if you’re trying to make a fashion statement I’m not one to interfere.” You reply distractedly while rummaging through your bag. You had successfully collected all of your clothes, but you desperately needed some asprin.

“No as in I mean one of these shoes is not mine…” Dean adds, holding up a tattered plimsoll.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” You ask hesitantly, when you actually try and think back to the night before and find your mind blank.

“Clearly not considering I have no clue where this fuckin shoe came from.”

“There’s something sticking out of your back pocket.” You tell Dean, pointing it out.

“Staring at my ass eh?” He asks, grabbing the card. You roll your eyes and sigh, walking round to stand next to Dean so you could both read what was on the card.

*We hope you enjoyed your visit to Cheery Chapel!
 Tell your friends and get a 30% discount on your next service!
 BONUS!! Show this card to anybody at a Dunkin Donuts and get 1 donut free!*

“Dean…Why do we have a business card for ‘Cheery Chapel’…?” You ask slowly.

“Arghjhkjgbn!” Dean cries.

“Dude what? Speak English yo.” You say impatiently. All Dean does as a response is point at your hand which, when you look, holds a shiny wedding ring. Deans cry of arghjhkjgbn is now understandable.

“I have one too!” Dean exclaims while you are busy yanking the gold band off your finger and throwing it across the room as if it was burning.

“Oh that’s how you’re going to treat our wedding ring is it?” He says, placing his hand on his hip and glaring at you. You sighs and walks over to pick up the ring, then instantly drop it.

“Hold on. I don’t give a damn how I treat our wedding ring. I don’t even remember getting married! And it sure as hell isn’t going to last!”

“How am I gunna tell Sammy..?” Dean murmurs to himself.

“Dean! It will not be an issue. We will not stay married for long ok!” You cry, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation.

“Wow. Marriage changed you.” Dean says, glaring at you from across the room. “We are fighting more already.”

“Look I’m sorry.” You say, deflating slightly. “I just didn’t expect to be married this way. I always wanted a big wedding with family and flowers and all that crap.” You say quietly.

“I’ll be a good husband to you.” Dean replies.

“I know Dean. I…wait hold the fuck up.” You say, reflating. “The fuck is wrong with you?! This isn’t a serious marriage!”

“No? No. Ok no. Not a serious marriage. We can get it annulled later.” Dean says, glancing at the bed. “Well…maybe…”

“God I’m gunna be a divorcee already. This is just swell.”  You say, your head in your hands.

“Ok look maybe if we just go to the chapel we can work out from there what happened.” Dean says, walking over to you and putting his hand on your shoulder in an apparent attempt to comfort you.

“Alright.” You sigh, standing, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

“So where are we going to honeymoon?” Dean asks as you leave the motel room and make your way to the car.

“Shut up Dean.”

luna-and-friends said:

Luna sighed somberly "Meta King..... I got an M!A saying that I have to kiss you again..... On the lips this time though.... Remind me to attack any anon that comes near me....."

Meta King winced, holding up a hand to stop her. “Sorry, but I’m under the influence of a M!A…I don’t think you want to kiss me…”

traflagardanya said:

Anya winced as the teen boy bumped her shoulder. It wasn't like the sidewalk was crowded, so she saw this act as a show of disrespect. "Watch it." She spoke calmly before continuing down the sidewalk.

Kid turned his aggresive eyes towards the stupid bitch “You watch it bitch” grunted as any response.


my mum woke up with a swollen foot and a rash all over her body and i think shes had an allergic reaction to the drugs she was given bcs her eyes are swollen now?? and my dad is wincing/shouting in pain because he has a lump on his knee and wont have surgery bcs hes an idiot and ugh darn

anonymous said:

Jon/Sansa "how could pancakes possibly go this horribly wrong."

Sansa woke to a frightening noise, wincing as she sat up in the bed. Placing her hand on her still sensitive abdomen, she stood slowly. By the time she made it to the kitchen, she feared what she would see. Sure enough, Jon was moving around trying to fix whatever he’d done.

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The little old lady from Pasadena
read it on the AO3 at

by a beta perspective (Ejunkiet)

Lydia makes the trip down from Pasadena to pay Stiles and his new flatmate a visit.

He wishes he’d done more than laugh when Stiles had arrived in a salmon-pink button-down, hair combed and neat for once. Jesus, Derek wishes he had done something with his own hair; he’d been meaning to trim it for months, but when your audience day-to-day is a room full of fish tanks and a series of dehydrated embryos, it had seemed pointless to keep up appearances.

With the look Lydia is giving him, Derek regrets that he hadn’t paid more attention. He rubs at his jawline, wincing at the three-day old stubble he finds there.

Words: 1679, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of The (Research) Internship

read it on the AO3 at

I really want my granddad to see Pride

he’s quite homophobic (not aggressively, but he says things that make me wince) but his grandfather was a miner and he was really active in raising money for the miners during the strike

I wonder if it would change his views on queer people

Sometimes I sing songs - ya know the ones -
of the boy banging his drum
to the beat of soldiers feet.
Bumpa bump bump.
Skinny cats stretch over bones.
Playing music when fear and freedom rolled
hand in hand. A cigarette lit
by the only grandfather left alive
in a town full of mothers.
Gunshots cracking whisky glasses.

He was hurtin. The words misformin
on eyelids drying
and lips missin;
words long ago uttered before kisses in candlelight
— flickering to fade.

Sometimes I sing songs - ya know the ones -
of the man playing hopscotch in the rain,
waiting for lightning strikes
and airplanes that stopped flying years ago.
Memories existing in a drum beat.
Calluses. No longer wincing
at stones beneath his feat.

—  Michel LazzaroCalluses

anonymous said:

prompt: Cosima has a really bad sunburn. [take it any direction you want i dont care]

"Ma cheri," Delphine tutted, reaching into her suitcase for the aloe, "I told you to put sunscreen on.” 

Cosima turned around in the bed, wincing and lying face down on the mattress, sighing when the cold lotion on Delphine’s fingers hit the heat of her bright red neck. 

Delphine bent down, kissing the pink skin, which was warm to the touch, and running her hands over the knots on her girlfriend’s back, smiling at the way soft snores puffed out of Cosima’s mouth — her petit chiot, having to compete with sunlight.  

minific prompts are fun things that i do 

This chap got way longer than the last two. And just for reference, LACMA=Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

Part I. is here. Part II is here.

Also at

The Bachelorette & the Bobby Stripper

 Part III.

After fighting her way through the horrendous Sunday evening freeway traffic (though when wasn’t it a mess?), and dealing with the notorious Long Beach parking issues, Emma finally swung open the door to The Pike a little after 9pm, in an even worse mood than she’d left in.

She winced when she felt a stickiness on the bottom of her shoes after only a couple steps, trying to ignore it while she scanned the bar. It looked like an odd mix of old men, hobos, and groups of college kids. But Killian Jones was an easy one to pick out, even in the dark establishment. He sat at one of the picnic tables the furthest corner, bright eyes beaming at her like a cat. It was a bit unsettling. She firmed her mouth into what she hoped passed for a no-nonsense look, and made for him.

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It happened all too quickly for Kim Yugyeom.

Back against the wall, crouched down in defense, arms covering his own head to avoid the blows that never seemed to end—— they kept coming, and coming, and coming; blood poured out from his mouth and stained his teeth, pathetic little whimpers formed in the back of his throat and escaped his lips as pained cries. He couldn’t fight back, couldn’t throw a single punch, but could only protect himself and curl up on the ground. All he could really do was focus on his breathing and not on the pain. 

Yugyeom later woke up with cuts and bruises on his skin, which was now five shades paler than usual. In an attempt to get back on his feet and pick his pride back up from the ground, he managed to sit up straight, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing in pain shortly after. A million jolts of electricity prickled every nerve, every muscle—- from the top of his head to the tips of his feet, and a strangled groan rumbled deep down within his throat. His clothes, ones that the members had gotten for his birthday, were torn and stained with dirt, and he had tried so hard  not to cry up until—-

Yugyeom-ah! What are you doing on the floor?”

A familiar voice rang throughout the neighborhood, and as if it provoked some sort of remorseful feeling inside of him, Yugyeom began to cry. His entire body racked with sobs, tears pouring down his cheeks as his hands came up to wipe them off of his face. No matter how many times he tried to dry his eyes, the amount of tears that came down seemed everlasting; never ceasing.

As the older member came closer and closer, he could clearly see the worry in his eyes. Instead of reaching out to him, Yugyeom looked down at the ground in shame before weakly calling out,

J-Jinyoung hyung...”

Warning: Contents of self harm.

The blood of the demon you were brutally stabbing splashed all over your face. Despite it’s conclusive death, your knife continuously penetrated the demon’s human capsule. You were blinded and deafened by the rage, by the deep seethed sadness. Everything that had gone wrong in your life, you were taking it out on the body before you.

Before you could land another stab into the body, your eldest brother, Dean had grabbed your arm forcefully and pulled you up off the ground and toward his bulky body. His grip hurt you, but you didn’t even wince. You were too focused on the mangled body. The reason you believed your life was in ruins.

"Y/N, that’s enough!" Dean snapped at you as you tried to fight out of his grip. "Get in the car!" He squeezed your arm tightly, steering you around to the Impala. He took a few steps with you before shoving you toward the Impala, and toward Sam.

Sam watched you with both horror and a heavy heart. His heart broke at the thought of his baby sister walking down the same path as her older brothers. He tried to reach out to touch your shoulder but you dodged his touch.

You yanked hard on the Impala’s door handle. Your emotions were written on your face so both your brothers knew what was coming next. Sam pursed his lips and Dean held his index up in a warning gesture.

"Don’t you-" Dean began, but you had already slammed the door shut behind you. It was the only way you could hurt him. "Slam my car door…" He trailed off with a sigh and closed eyes.

You watched your brothers talk. Knowing that they’d be talking about you, you plugged in your earphones and closed your eyes. Before you knew it, Dean was pulling into the Bunker’s garage. You pulled out your earphones and shoved it into your bag.

"Y/N," Dean began, turning around in his seat.

You ignored him and quickly got out of the car. You slammed the door shut behind you once more in another attempt to hurt him and ran inside. Your room was your hideout. You locked the door, dropped your bag and fell to your knees crying.

You were tempted to draw out your small blade and start slitting your delicate skin. It was what you did when you didn’t take out enough on your targets on hunts. It was your release, it was what kept you alive. You were about to when a knock on your door stopped you.

"Kiddy," Dean always used your nickname when he wanted to reconnect with you. He knew it brought back memories, memories of a normal life. "Open the door, please. I’m sorry I was a little hard on you tonight. Can we talk, please?"

You only cried harder. It wasn’t really him you were angry at. You were angry at the world, at yourself. Everyone you loved was died, and you couldn’t do anything about it. No one asked you to dances as a teenager or took you or a date now because you were different, crazy for believing in the supernatural. You were angry because you couldn’t be normal.

"Please," Dean was almost begging. "Open the door."

You got to your feet and unlocked the door. The click gave Dean the “OK” and he slowly opened the door. Your wet cheeks and red eyes broke his heart. He immediately took you in his arms, and you started to cry even harder.

"Kiddy, whatever it is…You can talk to me," he told you. "You are my responsibility, and because you are my little sister, I just can’t keep pretending everything is alright. You are clearly going through something. So don’t go through alone, let Sam and I help."

You pulled away from Dean, your vision blurred by your own tears. You wiped your eyes and realized that Sam had been standing behind Dean the entire time. You felt a small smile on your face when you realized that as long as you had your brothers, you’d be okay.

"I love you guys," you choked out with a small smile.

"And we love you, Kiddy." Sam and Dean wrapped you tight in a group hug.