all the chairs i set on

The Gold Dress

Originally posted by ohskyefelicity

We found out yesterday from an old interview with Emily Bett Rickards that Oliver actually bought Felicity the gold dress Felicity wore in the Dodger episode. This is a little fic, Pretty Woman style, on how that came to be. It’s from Felicity’s point of view. On AO3 if you prefer.

“So we are all set for tonight right? I’ll get the jewelry piece and make sure it’s delivered to the auction and you and Digg will meet me there.” Oliver looked down at Felicity who sat in her chair in front of the computers.

“Right, except I’ll monitor things from here. You and Digg will be onsite.” Felicity turned back to her computers.

“No, I want you there.” Oliver stated firmly. “We need to track if the Dodger takes the bait and it would be better if you were on site.”

“I can do my job just fine from here.” She looked back at him over her shoulder. “You will have comms, it will be fine.”

“Felicity what aren’t you telling me? Why don’t you want to go?” He looked at her with such concern.

Keep reading

There was once a post on 4chan’s paranormal board /x/ about a bunch of guys stumbling upon this house in the middle of the woods and provided a bunch of photos for proof. They found this decaying man in a chair and a notebook containing what he ate, most of which was just pages and pages of chicken and “cans” with little else. I remember one of the photos was a room that had a whole model train set. It was all very well done, if it was a fabrication. Does anyone have any archived threads of this? It was one of the spookiest posts I’ve ever seen on /x/ and I’d love to experience it all again.

Gillian Anderson: I backed into a pole. Hard. David was the passenger and he was very sweet about it. He didn’t make fun of me. Much. The next day, on the way to work, I noticed that my neck and my shoulders were seizing up. I had whiplash. And all of a sudden I thought: Fuck. David! What if David has whiplash, too? So I get to work, he hasn’t arrived, yet and I’m in my chair and all of a sudden I realise that he’s walked through the door. And he is over there by the monitors and he is setting his stuff up and as I’m walking towards him, I realise that he’s got a neck brace. So I’m walking towards him, and I’M looking at him and I’m going *gasps*. And I get about a foot away from him and he can’t do it anymore. He can’t hold it. And it was really funny. It was so funny that I went down on my knees, I was laughing so hard. 

I couldn’t believe the shock of it. And then how good the prank was.

David Duchovny: Gillian. Gillian is a terrible driver. She had car accidents with nothing. Like the world was empty. There was nothing on the street. I was so relaxed. And she hit something. Hard. Backing up into it. So we had a little whiplash. She hit the nothing that was there. Hard. I was fine. But I heard she had, her neck was hurting a little. So I was in hair- and makeup the next day and I said “You know what would be funny” the nurse, …a neck brace for me. So I got a neck brace and I just showed up on set, in this neck brace, didn't”t say anything. I was just kinda hanging by the monitor, waiting for her to see the damage that she’s done to me. And it took like a few minutes for her to see what was going on over at the monitor and she really almost collapsed in fear and shame and sympathy. 

So that was a good prank.

RFA+Saeran romantic valentine’s dinner that they prepared but goes wrong? @cloudsofsand


  • He thought out this elaborate and affordable dinner
  • Literally spent 2 weeks buying up all these supplies to set up a nice dinner for you
  • You came home to rose petals scattered around the house and Yoosung’s proud face beaming at his candlelit dinner
  • He was such a cutie and pulled out your chair for you, served the food, and poured the drinks
  • However, while he was pouring his elbow knocked over a candle
  • The tablecloth set on fire
  • Yoosung was running around panicking  while you were working on a way to set out the fire
  • When it finally distinguished, were both were tired and panting
  • “I’m sorry I ruined the dinner, MC…”
  • You came over to him and hugged him tightly, “It’s the thought that counts, right? Besides, dessert is still being served right?”
  • “But dessert got burned…?”
  • When you pulled away and headed towards the bedroom, stopping to send to him a wink, his face flushed red before stumbling to join you


  • She was so stressed out
  • This was the first Valentine’s that she’d spend with you and it had to be really special
  • But goddammit, the oven was broken so it was burning everything she tried to make
  • The whole table was topped with the black-burnt dishes and you were bound to be here any minute
  • She didn’t even have time to clean up what to do, what to do?
  • “Jaehee, I used the key under the mat to get in–what’s that smell?”
  • “My oven’s broken, so everything I tried making burned to a crisp…” she sighed
  • “Aaawww, you were going to make dinner for me?” 
  • “Were”
  • You kissed her cheek and giggled at her confused expression
  • “How about we clean up here and cook together at my house?”
  • A smile immediately crept onto her face and it was the cutest thing ever


  • He really planned on coming home early today to actually make a surprise dinner because he never usually cooks but the studio was holding him back to finish another scene
  • When he was finally released, he rode home so fast he was sure he ran a red light or two
  • You would be home from work in about an hour and that was not enough time to make was he originally wanted
  • So he came up with a new plan
  • Instead of an hour of cooking, why couldn’t he just up the heat by a lot for a shorter amount of time
  • Zen that’s not how cooking works
  • Needless to say, you came home to Zen’s disastrous dinner
  • You tried to eat it for him because he looked so proud of his first meal how could you say no
  • But you ended up with food poisoning the next day so you were definitely getting pampered when you recovered


  • Jumin has never cooked in his life
  • But he wanted this Valentine’s Day dinner to be personal and special and not just by the chef
  • Problem is that he doesn’t even know how to work a microwave 
  • So he looked up everything online and tried to follow the best he could
  • But everything wasn’t like accurate
  • Like he tried to measure everything correctly but it never turned out right
  • 1 tsp of salt turned into 7 tsp or a lot of seasoning turned into a pinch
  • He was happy when he finished because he just prepared his first meal ever!!
  • When you looked at it it looked like a normal meal, but when you tasted it, all the flavors were…off
  • Jumin could tell by the confused look on your face that his cooking was bad, and tbh he agreed as well
  • He ended up taking you out instead


  • Romantic picnic under the stars!
  • The date was actually very sweet and the Saeyoung made the food himself 
  • And it actually isn’t that bad considering his HBC and PHDPepper diet
  • All was going well until it started to pour
  • “Goddammit Saeyoung you remembered to wear heart boxers today but not check the weather”
  • You both gathered everything the best you could and made a dash for home because the walk to the park was romantic in retrospect
  • Saeyoung tried to shield the both of you with his jacket but it was no use, you and him were already soaked through
  • When he dried himself and you at home, he shut off all the lights and turned on the star projector
  • He set out the food and blankets again and it was still a picnic under the stars


  • He’s never cooked before but he really wants Valentine’s Day to be special for you
  • And he actually picks it up very well and quickly
  • Like you get home from a long day and you’re greeted at the door with a happy Saeran helping you settle down
  • “Happy Valentine’s Day, MC. I made dinner for us tonight.”
  • Your eyebrow rose playfully, “Oh really now?”
  • Upon entering the dining room, you’re both met with the sight of Seven shoving the remains of the dinner down his throat
  • Saeran sighed, “I won’t hurt you…


Bonus! V:

  • Lol he’s blind, he ain’t cooking
Hair Dye (Drabble)

Summary: You change up your hair, and find Bucky has something to say about it.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 536

Warnings: Language and fluff.

Based off of this request by anonymous: Can you a drabble where the reader dyes her hair blue or something & Bucky is in shock?

A/N: I might dye my hair blue or a dark purple over Christmas. I just don’t have a Bucky to surprise it with :/

Originally posted by positivegrunge

         “All right, you’re all set.”

         Nat stepped aside, having blow-dried your hair. Your eyes were closed, your back turned to the mirror. She spun you around in the chair, and she squealed in excitement.

         “Open your eyes!” she told you, and you did, letting out a gasp.

         “Oh. My. God.” You stared in shock in the mirror, and you reached up, twirling your hair in your finger to make sure it did in fact belong to you.

         “Do you not like it?” Nat asked, disbelief in her voice. You shook your head emphatically as you stood up to get closer to the mirror.

         “No, I love it!” you exclaimed, continuing to examine it. Your hair was now a bright blue color, and when it shone in the correct light, there were bits of purple in it, too. “I kinda remind myself of a mermaid.”

         Nat laughed, and smiled. “I’m glad my hair dyeing skills are still up there. Come on, let’s go show the rest of the team. I’m sure they’ll love it.”

         You followed her down into the living room, seeing a few members of the team there.

         “Hey, guys,” you greeted. Sam and Clint looked up in acknowledgement, and both did a double-take.

         “Holy shit, Y/N”! Sam exclaimed. “That’s so cool!”

         “Thank you,” you replied, flipping your hair dramatically.

         “Barnes is gonna flip when he sees you,” Clint muttered. You rolled your eyes.

         “Please. It’s just hair,” you answered back. As usual, Clint was expressing his belief that Bucky liked you, which, of course, you vehemently denied.

         “Yeah, and what’s his favorite color on you?” Wanda asked you rhetorically. “Blue.”

         You sighed again, ignoring your teammates and friends – they were just hyperbolizing Bucky’s reaction. But when he walked up from the training room with Steve, you didn’t expect them to be right.

         Bucky’s jaw dropped open when he saw you, and you smiled up at him.

         “Hey, Bucky,” you greeted casually. He stepped up to you, staring up at your hair.

         “Is it permanent?” he asked you.

         “Nah, it’ll wash out after a couple months. What do you think?” you asked tentatively. You hadn’t quite realized that the rest of the team had disappeared, leaving you and Bucky alone.

         He reached up, tucking your hair behind your ear as he leaned a bit closer to examine it.

         “I love it,” he answered softly. He was so close to you, and all you wanted to do was just close the distance between the two of you and kiss him, but you were hesitant to do that – you weren’t sure if Bucky liked you back. You didn’t have to wonder long, however, as soon Bucky was slipping his fingers into your hair and pulling you into a kiss.

         You stayed like that for a few blissful moments, and you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck, sighing into the kiss. And naturally, with your luck, your blissful moment had to be interrupted.

         “We have some paparazzi,” Bucky told you as he pulled away reluctantly. You and Bucky turned to look behind you, noticing the entire team piled up behind the wall in the hallway, having been watching the entire time.

         “I told you,” Clint said to you.

Tags: (If you’d like to be added to my permanent list, just send me an ask or message! Spots are always open.) @hymnofthevalkyries @xenaathena @caplanbuckybarnes @tol-sam @andhiseyesweregreen @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @lilasiannerd @pandarosita @heismyhunter @ailynalonso15 @lillian-paige @monsis-world @winterboobaer @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @magpiegirl80 @cojootromuelle @quiskcilver @angryschnauzer @nyecl @rainbowfez @dontfuckwithkezolas @dare-to-dream-about-1d @hettledettle @dont-let-me-go-again @iwillbeinmynest @preppydetective 

So, I really didn’t like my old home under a loading dog near the Royals’ stadium in Kansas City. Now I’m in the shelter, but I’ve been checking out sites on the Internet with my secret kitty wifi connection, and I think I can do better!

Hi, I’m Reese, and my mom and littermates were all adopted, but I’m a little shy and so far no one has picked me here at Purrfect Pets Cat Adoptions in Overland Park, Kansas.

I like to chat with people and get belly rubs. I like a quiet home, and can do okay with dogs and other cats as long as they’re low-key like me. 

I would especially like a house with chairs, because I like to sit at them and watch what’s going on. My favorite thing would be to watch you, because you had adopted me and we could spend the holidays together!!!

You can find all about me, or set up a meeting, by emailing or calling 913-652-6677.

And if you, like Toto, are not in Kansas anymore, sharing is caring!



Being Bruce’s wife would include:

-Bruce trying to use the “I’m Batman” excuse to get out a lot of things.

-That shit not flying at all

-”I hope Batman likes sleeping in the Batcave then” you state matter of factly as you march up the long set of stairs leading back up.

-Bruce coming home to the Batcave and finding you in his chair in front of the Bat computer because you fell asleep waiting for him.

-Bonus points if you were wearing one of his old capes.

-You say it’s because it reminds you of him, but really it’s just super bad ass.

-Why not both?

-He carries you up to your bed even though he may be extremely tired from his nightly patrols.

-Sometimes you wake up when he picks you up, but you won’t let him know that.

-He does indeed know that, but he lets you pretend any way.

-Sometimes, when you’re already in bed, he’ll pull you into his arms. Sometimes it’s really selfish of him because it’ll wake you up, but most times he just needs you, and you’re okay with that.

-”Rough night?” You mumble into his chest.

-”Sometimes the night isn’t so rough when I come home to something this soft.” He murmers into your hair.

-On the occasion, when Talia comes back into the picture for whatever reason, you get super possessive. 

-Over both Bruce and Damien.

-”Come here my sweet love!” 

-”My darling son, how are you today?”

-”Man, I sure love being a part of this family, something a certain someone couldn’t do, despite literally having a kid.”

-Sometimes Bruce has to calm you down.

-”Love, look at me. Now look at your finger. Now look back at me.”

-”Talia, look at me.”

-”I’m his wife now.”

-”Talia, look at me.”

-”I’m his mother now.”


Created for: The Sims 4

This is a Set with 12 Creations - Click here to show all

- Abbott Dining Room
- ArtVitalex@TSR, Dec 2016

- All objects three has a different pattern

- Abbott Showcase
- Abbott Sideboard
- Abbott Dining Table
- Abbott Dining Chair
- Abbott Triangle Mirrors
- Abbott Painting
- Abbott Ceiling Lamp
- Abbott Rug
- Abbott Curve Vase I
- Abbott Curve Vase II
- Abbott Vase I
- Abbott Vase II

Creator Notes

The designs of the mesh belongs to me.
Please do not re-upload, modify or clone.

Credits: TSRAA

Short URL:

I Wrote this Poem Just to Show it

Character: Alexander X Reader
Prompt: Reader is best friends with the journalist who runs the school paper. Every week, you write a new poem for them to publish, and it eventually draws the attention of a certain someone.
Word Count: 2,126
W/T: Teasing?
A/N: Honestly the only reason this story came to be was because I was in the mood to write poetry, ngl. Hope y'all enjoy!


“I’m telling you, Y/N, you’re poems are amazing.” Your best friend, Hercules Mulligan, exclaims, hastily typing it into the same format as you had written it. “Oh whatever, Herc.” You huff, leaning back in your chair and setting your feet on top of the desk. “You only ever wanted me to do this because it gave you one less column to fill out in your campus newspaper.” “Okay, maybe at first.” He admits, eyes still glueing themselves to the screen. “But once the ‘Campus Caller’ took off, people started to give me feedback, and they all really loved your work!” “That’s fine and dandy, Herc, but I still wish to remain anonymous.” You deadpan, tossing the apple you were going to eat around in your hands. “Hey, no food near the laptop, missy.” Hercules warns, taking one hand away from his typing to shoo you away.

Giggling, you tuck and roll onto the floor from your chair, stopping yourself against the edge of Herc’s bed frame. Sprawling out on top of his layers of clean and dirty clothes, you mindlessly stare at the ceiling fan, watching it go round and round. “You know you don’t have to be here, Y/N. I really just needed to type up the poem.” Hercules states, still not looking over to you. “But you said you would take me out to eeeeeeaaaaaatttttt.” You complain, rolling over defiantly, half of your body now hidden beneath his bed. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” He asks himself aloud in a rather monotone voice. “No. I’m not doing this again, Herc. You’ve promised me food for the past three poems, and what do you know? I haven’t gotten food.” “But then people will think that we’re datinggg.” He whines, his fingers clacking away on his keyboard. “As if. Everyone basically knows about you and Peggy, Herc.” You spit, watching his face grow pink. “And besides, your basically my brother, that would be weird. I’ve got my eye on somebody else, anyway.” “Oh? And who is that, might I ask?” He inquires, half aware of what he just asked. “Well if you must know, then it’s-”

You are quickly cut off by a series of sharp and forcefully knocks on the door, each set coming in a triplets, followed by a familiar voice calling out Hercules’ name. Recognizing the voice, you quickly pull yourself all the way under the bed, burying yourself slightly in some of his laundry. He didn’t need to know you were here.

“Alex what the hell. Wh-” Hercules starts, but is cut off by Alexander, forcefully closing his laptop on him. “Don’t what the hell me, Hercules. You didn’t tell me you could write!” Alexander exclaims while you watch his feet shuffle around from your position, his dark blue jeans swaying slightly with his movements. “Excuse me?” Hercules deadpans, obviously confused by his friend’s accusations. “Don’t play dumb with me. You literally write this newspaper of yours on your own. How could you not tell me that your a poet?!” Alex scoffs, his words sounding more and more passionate as he rambles on. “I’m not?” Hercules answers, his words coming off as more of a question than a statement. “Oh really? Then explain this.” Alexander counters, clearing his throat as to read off of last week’s “Campus Caller”.

“Is it true
That the stars are merely
Orbs of orbiting gases
Far, far away from us?
Or are they something more?

Are they something we can’t quite grasp
Something that’s on the tip of our tongues
But yet
Still too far away to understand?

Are stars our past
Shining down upon us
Through the blackening abyss
That is our future?

Or are they are future
With our hopes and dreams
Among a sea
Of disarray
And despair?

Is it true
That the stars
Are something I’ll never
Become apart of
No matter how hard I try?

Am I forever earthbound
Upon this shrinking planet
Forever cursed
To never be apart of
What I wish to be?

Is it true
That the stars
Are only
For me?

Or will I be able
To share these
And ideals
With someone beside me?”

His words seem to flow from his mouth like a coursing river, each one alive with emotions he put behind them. You close your eyes for a moment, taking in his melodic voice, melting a little bit as he speaks so highly of your poetry.

"Hate to break it to ya, Alex,” Hercules interrupts, jarring you back to reality, “but I don’t write that column. I have a friend who does that.” You silently curse Herc for getting ready to throw you under the bus, ready to punch him. “You’re kidding.” Alex huffs, his feet shifting again. “At least tell me who writes these marvelous works of art.” “You see that? That little word right there in spot of the author’s name? What’s it say?” “…Anonymous.” Alex answers, sounding upset. “That means they don’t want to be known. See how that works?” Hercules finishes, his voice laced with sarcasm. “But why can’t you just tell me? I’m just one person, Herc!” Alex pouts, refusing to give up on this. “Because,” Hercules huffs, standing up from his seat, beginning to push Alexander back out the door, “I know that you’ll seek said person out, and badger them about their writing. So no, I’m not going to tell you who it is. Anything else you wish to know?”

“Whatever, I’m going to rant to Y/N.” Alex scoffs, storming out of the dorm. The sound of his footsteps fades away, and you pull yourself out from underneath of Hercules’ bed, stretching your legs to relieve them of their cramps. “Thanks, Herc.” You smile sheepishly, taking his outstretched hand, letting him pull you into a standing position. “Yeah, but you better go after him though, he’s ready to blow at any moment.” Hercules suggests, his eyes glancing towards the window across the room. You quickly stride over to the windowsill, staring down at the lush campus itself, 5 floors below you. Almost too perfectly timed, a small figure barges out of the bottom of the building, his shoulders hunched. “He could have a storm cloud hanging over him if this were anime.” You state, blinking at the disappearing Alex. “Just go after him.” Hercules chuckles, gently nudging you to the door as well. “Okay, okay.” You groan, walking through the doorway. “Have fun with your boyfriend.” Hercules calls out after you, making your cheeks flush pink.

Deciding against the elevator, you fling yourself down the fire escape stairs, your footsteps echoing against the concrete as you fly from floor to floor, racing against Alex. Knowing that the first place he would go to would be your dorm, you opt for the next place he would automatically go to; the college cafe. You eagerly fling your backpack over your shoulder, your books and keys humbling themselves up inside as you take off for the main building, your pace breaking into a dead sprint. Adrenaline begins to wash over you as you begin to near your destination, the top of the building peaking over the horizon. Your breathing heavy, you slow your pace as you approach the familiar glass doors, the dim lighting and wavering scent of coffee making you feel calmer.

Gingerly, you press your hand against the smudged glass, the smell of coffee becoming stronger than before as you step into the small cafe, faint jazz music hitting your ears. Luckily, Alexander was nowhere to be found, so you let out a sigh of relief and take the same table you always do when you come here.

Happily remembering you already completed you papers for your classes, you dig your favorite notebook out of your bag, it’s slightly tattered edges and worn look bringing a small smile to your face. Turning to the folded page you left off on, you quickly finish the poem you had started last week, writers block preventing you from doing so earlier.

“A feeling
An emotion
A change of heart
A kindling fire
Growing and spreading
Across your body

What is love?

In simplest terms
A feeling
A simple smile
That clicks
With someone
That no other smile has before

What is love?

As some might explain
An emotion
A sense of longing
For someone to return
From an overseas trip

What is love?

Is a change of heart
The innocence of a child
Giving the sinner
A new perspective
On life
With a simple question

What is love?

A kindling fire
Growing and spreading
Across your body
Your face growing hot
And your nerves
Tingling with a sensation
That you had not known
Up until this moment

What is love?

A feeling
An emotion
A change of heart
A kindling fire
Growing and spreading
Across your body.”

You smile, satisfied with your final draft. Inspiration now flooding through you, you start to begin another poem, but the jingling of the front door catches your attention. You glance up to find Alexander, his eyes scanning across the cafe. You smile and wave your hand, motioning for him to come over. His glare softens at the sight of you, and his shoulders become a little less hunched as he strolls over to take the seat next to you.

“Hey Ale-woah, you look like you’re about to murder someone.” You laugh, scooting over slightly in the booth. He raises his eyebrows in agreement, huffing out a sigh of frustration. “It’s just-” “Hold on a sec.” You interrupt, readjusting the way you were sitting, propping your hands up on the table and leaning your chin into your palms. “Alright. Go.” You giggle, smiling warmly. Alexander chuckles, his eyes seeming to search for what words he wants.

“Okay, it’s about Herc.” “Ahh, the living, breathing teddy bear. Yes, go on.” You joke, earning an eye roll. “Well, you know about the newspaper he does? Campus Caller? There’s this column he has in it, it’s dedicated to poetry. You know how I love poetry, it’s what I live for. Anyway, I went to him, ecstatic that he wrote! I didn’t know he had it in him to write so vividly, so immensely! But he admitted that he had someone else write that column for him. I asked who it was, determined to find this person. But he refuses to tell me! Honestly, who does that to a person?! Who willing holds the key information that allows someone to meet the person they’re meant to be with?! The person that could very possibly be their soulmate?! The person who could change your life forever? The p-” He freezes, his eyes widening as his body tenses up.

“What? What is it Alex?” You ask, becoming very worried by his sudden stop. His eyes lock upon yours, a look of mystery and astonishment whirling around in them. “Alex?” Say again, unsure of how to react to his change in attitude.

“Kiss me.”


Kiss me.“

"I-uh-Al-!” You stutter, quickly cut off by Alexander placing his hands on either side of your face and pressing his lips against yours, a surging current sparking between your abrupt connection. Heat flooded your face as you returned the gesture, his rough lips feeling soft against yours. You leaned into his hands, melting at the touch. Alex pulls back inches, leaning his forehead against yours, catching his breath. He quickly takes one of his hands from your cheek, grasping for the notebook sprawled out on the table. He begins to flip through them, his eyes hungrily taking in each and every word scrawled across the pages. “Why did you never tell me you were so fluent in poetry? I recognize this style of writing anywhere. Thank god you left your notebook open-can I keep this?-otherwise I would’ve driven myself mad. That is, if I weren’t alrea-Oh my god, when did you write this? How did you write this? How did you get it to read so fluently? How on earth di-” Alex excitedly rambles, flipping through the lined pages like a child in a candy store. You roll your eyes at his abundantly happy babbling before leaning over and placing another warm kiss against his lips to shut him up.

“I love you, Alex, but you talk way too much.”


Mid-Century Living Chair - S3 to S4 Conversion

After much struggling here it is: my conversion of the S3 Store Mid-Century Living Chair… it’s my very first time working with meshes so let’s say it’s some kind of beta/testers wanted before I continue with the rest of the set, please let me know what you think. Base Game compatible, 150$, 8 solid colors (including the original green) and 8 retro prints to satisfy your Mid-Century cravings. A million thanks again for all the help and words of encouragement!


anonymous asked:

Bellarke: actors in a soap opera with so many plot holes and things that could never happen realistically

thanks for the prompt, I hope you enjoy!! ao3

“How dare you.”

Bellamy looks up with a grin as his dressing room door crashes loudly against the wall. “I see you’ve read the script.”

Clarke falls across his couch like a swooning southern belle, one hand to her forehead.

“After all we’ve been through, Bellamy. I can’t believe you would father one of my own sister’s twins.”

“Just one of the twins,” he points out, spinning his chair to face her. “Because that’s biologically possible.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” she sniffs, but her expression cracks into a smile when she looks over at him.

This is why Clarke is his favorite person on set. She, somehow unlike the rest of their cast, is aware of just how ridiculous their show actually is.

Which is part of why he likes it, honestly. He got into acting because there didn’t seem like much of a downside– if he didn’t get regular work, it was something he could fit around his patchwork schedule of minimum wage positions, and if he did get something more steady, it seemed like it would pay a lot more than Starbucks.

He never set out to be a serious actor, hence why he had no reservations about going out for any job, from voicing a squirrel in a Geico commercial to, yes, soap operas. He took the job because it gave him enough hours to get health insurance from the SAG. But ask him why he looks forward to going in to work every day, and he’d have to try really hard not to mention Clarke Griffin.

“Really?” He asks now, propping his feet up on her thigh. “It wouldn’t be worse if I was the father of both her twins?”

“You slept with her even after I saved your life.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten hypothermia if you hadn’t pushed me down that well in the first place!”

“I was possessed by my dead lover’s ghost,” she says, fighting a smile. “It was really traumatic for me.”

“For you,” he mutters. “Which one of us had to spend six hours in cold water?”

“I thought it was twelve.”

“I’m not talking about Antonio. I’m talking about me, Bellamy. They couldn’t even make it warm water?”

“They were going for realism,” she says, patting his ankle patronizingly.

“Yeah, realism is really important to this show,” he snorts. “Realistically, I doubt I would have taken my shirt off if I was hypothermic.”

“It was wet, it wasn’t keeping you warm,” Clarke points out, finally letting herself smile. “Besides, if you’re going to die, might as well go out looking hot.”

“Oh, you think I’m hot?” He teases, nudging her in her most ticklish spot with his foot.

She yelps and swats at it. “You were shirtless and ripped and wet. Yeah, I think that’ll do it for me.”

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You look up from your book just in time to see Matt shut the front door of Nelson and Murdock behind him. “Good morning, Matt.”

He smiles softly. “Good morning. You’re here early.”

Even though he can’t see it, you shrug and smile. “I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I thought I’d come in and  get some paperwork done.”

“And did you?”

“You doubting me, Murdock?”


Laughing, you sit back in your chair and continue reading your book. “There’s a new case on your desk if you want to take a look before Foggy arrives.”

Matt nods and sets his cane by the door where he normally does before walking into his office. Smiling to yourself, you stand up and follow him into his private office. You didn’t get here early this morning to do paperwork: You moved all of his furniture a couple of inches to the right to mess with him. You read about it online, and so you figured you’d try it on Matt.

But when you peek in the doorway, it’s only to see Matt walk around his desk and sit in his chair, without bumping into anything. He just sits there calmly and starts reading the report, fingers moving quickly over the braille. You frown confusedly.

As if sensing you, Matt’s fingers falter on the page and he tilts his head up in your direction. “(y/n)? Do you need something?”

“N-no. Everything’s fine. I’ll just … be at my desk.”

Walking out of the office, you leave and sit at your desk by the window, frowning to yourself. How did he not run into the furniture?

Completely outflanked my a-hole coworker.

(warning: long story)

So this just happened about six months ago.

I got a job in a different department than the one I started in. great job really, I really like my manager and my supervisor but my co-worker in this department is a bit weird.

She’s a neat freak and you can’t set or leave ANYTHING on her desk without permission. You can’t touch her chair because she has back problems. She slaves all over her job and whines constantly about how much work she has.

I started my role and floundered a bit. I didn’t really get training and it was a struggle for a while but I slowly got the hang of things and got pretty good at what I do.

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What's good for the goose...

In the early ‘90s, I worked as a pressman for a national newspaper printed regionally in Northern California. After I had been there for about four years, we got a new Production Supervisor. This guy came in from a newspaper in Texas, and on his first day, he toured our press building.

After touring the building, he told our press foreman to get rid of all chairs in the building, because he liked his pressmen to be standing at all times. This is ridiculous, because many jobs we perform are better done when sitting stably, for instance registering and setting color. Our light booths were set up at stool height, as was our press console. Standing before them made no sense; it was awkward and counter-productive. He insisted that we rid the building of all chairs regardless.

About two weeks after his edict went into force, one night, I someone followed the janitor into the new Production Supervisor’s office and removed his $800 Aero-Chair and tossed it into the dumpster.

I hope it improved his job performance.

Dante’s Inferno – THE DELETED CANTO

And then the poet took me by the shoulder, and withdrew a slip of parchment from the wall.

“We are number eighty-and-three, let us go and find a place to seat ourselves,” that great master announced. He guided the both of us to a group of seated sufferers.

Poor, bloated beings, all anchored to blue chairs, their sweat forming paste on their red, sun-scourged skin, adhered to the plastic. Fated to restlessly toil for eternity as lethargic gatekeepers above bellow out number after number, but never the one that might set them free of this agony, here they wait, now hour after hour, now day after day, in a humid swamp of their own collective breathing.

“What is this beige furness of despair that thou hath taken me?,” I asked my Lord, “For after having witnessed the center of the inferno itself, even now, that infernal suffering doth not compare to that which I witness here.” 

“This, my dear companion, is The DMV,” the great master informed me.

♡Levi is Dan

♡Eren is Phil

♡"Hello Internet"

♡"Levi have you seen-“

♡"Goddamnit Eren, I’m trying to film the intro”

♡Levi getting frustrated by Erens terrible jokes/puns but loving them on the down low

♡'Diligently’ #DilHowellter

♡Playing FNAF together

♡*Insert Jumpscare*

♡Eren kinda screaming in a femininish way

♡Clinging to Levi

♡Levi trying to act like he’s not scared (Just thought about when Dan fell off his chair lmao)

♡"Don’t cry, craft!“

♡Eren and Levi *trying* to make cookies

♡Eren eating most of the cookie dough when Levi isn’t looking

♡Levi just looking at Eren like \(-_-)/

♡"Eren. Did you just wait until I turned around so you could eat the cookie dough?”

♡No words


♡Instead of Dil Howellter, it’s Ereri Jaegerman

♡Levi fixing the radio bc it keeps magically setting on fire

♡Trying to add more windows but they don’t fit

♡"You’re gonna spend all that money just for symmetry.“

♡"I care about sYMMETRY”

♡Obsessing over Attack On Titan

♡Eren randomly yelling “MIKKASSAAAA”

♡Levi probably has a body pillow

♡A trip to Japan

♡Collecting hella merch together

♡Levi being socially inept

♡Cringe attacks

♡Existential crisis’

♡Eren being innocent all the time

♡Unintentional Innuendos

♡Looking at Levi bc he doesn’t get it

♡They just compliment eachothers personalities

Okay but Cas arriving at the bunker after a phone call from Sam, because after that witch hunt there is clearly something wrong with Dean, but Sam and Charlie can’t figure out quite what it is; all they know is that Dean keeps babbling and saying things that he usually wouldn’t say, but they’re not sure if he even means them or not.

Then as soon as Cas sets one foot in the bunker, Dean all but jumping up from his chair and running up to the now very bewildered angel, Dean’s fingers urgently grabbing the lapels of Cas’ coat before he blurts out “don’t take this the wrong way man, but will you please just let me kiss that pretty mouth of yours already because I don’t think I can stand it if I have to wait another eight freaking years!” 

And in the background, Sam and Charlie looking up from their books about ancient witchcraft while exchanging a deadpan glance and going

“Truth spell?”

“Truth spell.”

Too close

Too close ┅  part #1

❝ Why are you staring at me?❞

s u m m a r y  ░ ░ ░  in which Justin and y/n are best-friends and he finds out something he didn’t know about her while hanging out with squad

You prop your feet up on the Justin’s brown coffee table, the conversations between squad flowing through your ear. You all decided to link up tonight—at Justin’s house—the first order of business is catching up. You aren’t much to talk about yourself so usually just listen to what has been going on in there lives.

“Kendall and I were talking about body counts the other day,” Hailey kicks off her black heels, setting them next to the small chair. Justin’s arm wraps around your shoulder, his touch warming your body. He lets out a soft chuckle, your tongue grazing your bottom lip.

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