and if someone asks for it i will put it up

distance - klance season 4

(based on the beautiful art by @badenlily link here  that is sooo beautiful - that you should all marvel at before you read this!! - and this thing I wrote is nowhere near worthy of it, but thank you so much for letting me write it!! This is set somewhere in season 4, I assume? i also posted this over on my ao3 here

“It looks good on you,” Lance says, his elbow propped up against Red’s control panel, his chin held in his palm; looking at Keith in his video feed. “The hood, I mean, it makes you look all mysterious.”

“Hm,” Keith says, looking up from sharpening his blade; he blinks at him, then what Lance had said registers and his cheeks turn a soft pink. He reaches up and touches his hood, “Oh, thanks, Lance.” He hadn’t really thought about whether or not it looked good, he’d been more interested in the durability and practicality of his suit, and how/if the hood would help keep him disguised if he needed it. 

“The purple really brings out your eyes,” Lance says, settling into this, complimenting Keith with a hint of glee; his lips widening into an easy, possibly flirty grin. “It makes them pop.”

“Pop?” Keith repeats, raising an eyebrow. He sheaths his blade then, leaning closer to the screen to look at his own eyes and Lance looks at them too, they are really, really pretty eyes.

“Yup,” Lance says, not explaining further, “Pop.”

“Well, you look really good in your undersuit,” Keith says easily, without a hint of embarrassment at his incredibly embarrassing words. “It makes your shoulders look really broad.”

“W-what?” Lance stutters, his cheeks flushing; he can dish it out with ease, but can’t handle it when he gets it back in return. “Stop messing around, Keith!”

“I’m not,” Keith says back, indignant; confused by Lance’s refusal to accept his genuine compliment. “It looks good on you.”

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7th grade hunt

Since I didn’t have many friends in my own grade I would sneak into 8th grade lunch to hang out with my friends. One day of course one of the teachers got notified that a 7th grader was in there and boy was she not pleased. Most of the 8th grade enjoyed having me around since I wasn’t stuck up and I was really nice. Now the reason why the school didn’t want the grades to interact like that was because a lot of seventh graders were dating eighth graders (but not me) So as I was awkwardly trying to hide from this teacher, I had an idea to sneak outside and have someone else let me back in. I took off my jacket, glasses, and put my hair down so in case they saw me they wouldn’t recognize me right away. As the teacher left to get a list of students names to make sure they were all 8th graders, I bolted out the door (in winter with no jacket on) to the door on the other side of the building. An 8th grader I didn’t even know opened the door for me and as I snuck my way back to my own grades lunch I overheard one of the 8th graders tell everyone not to snitch on me. When it was my grades turn for recess, the 8th graders were going to the cafeteria and I still didn’t have a jacket. Luckily one of my friends had an extra sweater and he let me borrow it.

When we got back to class I asked to use the bathroom and went down to the 8th grade hall to retrieve my jacket and glasses that one of my friends was holding on to. When I get them back I take off my friends sweater outside my class room and all of a sudden the fire alarm goes off (it was a drill) and my class starts walking out. I tossed the sweater back to my friend, pulled on my jacket as I walked out the door and put my glasses back on feeling like a badass. Not only did I escape a suspension for being with the wrong grade, I snuck out of the building when I wasn’t supposed to and got back in past security, and all the 8th graders had my back.

thegrumpiestunicorn  asked:

I don't normally do these prompt things, but “I don’t mean to sound paranoid but I’m pretty sure you’re a serial killer" sounds really interesting. No pressure!

Bucky watches from his window as the guy who lives in C107 climbs up the fire escape in about five steps. He pauses when he sees Bucky and gives him a little smile and a salute. Bucky forces a smile back.

Because, despite the guy from C107’s blond hair, charming smile, and generally pleasant demeanor, Bucky’s pretty sure that he’s a serial killer.

— —

C107 moved in three weeks ago during the middle of the night, because that’s what serial killers do. They come in the middle of the night, murder everyone on their floor, and leave before anyone can find their bodies. It doesn’t matter that C107 smiles shyly at him in the mailroom or helps the old lady in E202 with her groceries; Bucky knows what’s up. He knows that C107 sneaks out almost every night and doesn’t come back until morning, and never through the front door. Once or twice, Bucky’s seen him covered with blood.

So the guy’s a serial killer, and Bucky’s not sure what to do about that.

— —

There’s a knock on Bucky’s door.

Bucky texts Darcy: It’s the serial killer and I’m going to die.

Darcy texts back: have fun!

It’s not a helpful answer.

Bucky takes a deep breath and walks towards the door. It’s better that he just opens it up and accepts his fate. It’ll be hard enough for the landlord to rent out his apartment again after everyone finds out that a murder took place; he may as well not make any messy clean-up bills by having the serial killer knock down the door or something like that. Makes things simpler in the long run.

He opens it.

C107 is standing there, shirt covered in blood. “Hi,” he says with a bit of a sheepish smile.

“Oh,” Bucky says, then promptly passes out, because if there’s one thing that Bucky isn’t good with, it’s blood.

— —

He wakes up on his couch, underneath a blanket, and with the fluffiest pillow in his apartment beneath his bed. He does not wake up in Heaven (or Hell, if all of those fire and brimstone ‘homosexuals are killing America’ preachers are to be believed) because C107 killed him.

Bucky blinks a few times, then hears C107 on the phone. “No, that’s not… I don’t care if he knows who I am! That’s the point!”

Bucky closes his eyes again. It’s not worth it. He’s going to die.

“Well, what was I supposed to do, Tony? March into his apartment in my Cap uniform and commandeer his laundry machine?”

That’s… kinky.

“No, no, I’ll… I don’t want to wake him up! I’ll talk to you later, Tony.”

Bucky opens his eyes again, just to be a little sneaky, but of course C107 is already looking at him. “Hi there!” he says, far too perky for someone with a shirt covered in blood.

“Uh, hey,” Bucky says, pushing himself up.

“Easy now,” C107 says, rushing over to the couch. “Don’t force yourself,” he says.

“Why would you care?” Bucky asks, a bit hysterical as C107 reaches out to touch Bucky’s forehead with the back of his hand. “Since you’re here to murder me, and all.”

C107 drops his hand. “What?” he asks, incredulous.

“I’ve seen you! Crawling through the window at night! You’re going to kill me and honestly? I’m not prepared for it. I have… four things to live for. At least. Maybe five.”

C107 just stares.

“Six?” Bucky offers. “I’m not sure I can list more than six, to tell the truth.”

“I’m… I’m not going to kill you,” he says.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“No, no! I’m… I needed to borrow someone’s laundry machine and I saw you were up. That’s all.”

Bucky blinks. “You have your own in your unit.”

“It’s busted,” C107 says.

“Because you put bloody things in it all the time?” Bucky asks.

C107 snorts. “No, because the last resident and their partner had relations on it and busted it.”

“Go Kevin,” Bucky says.

C107 laughs. “Anyhow,” he says when he’s done, “I’m not here to kill you.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I mean, I have killed people before,” Bucky’s eyes go wide then C107 says in a rush, “but most of them were Nazis.”

“I’m not following here,” Bucky says, throat dry.

C107 sighs. “Okay, it’s. I’m. Captain America?” he says, wincing. “And I was just wondering if I could borrow your washing machine.”

Bucky nods. “Alright, okay, that’s…”

And it’s a good thing he’s already on the couch, because he passes out again.

ruin the friendship / tom holland x reader (part II)

Originally posted by tbholland

do all the things on our minds
what’s taking us all this time?
let’s ruin the friendship.

part II / ? 

song that goes with this part: dusk till dawn by zayn and sia


until there was a knock on the door that pulled him away, snapping him back into reality, thinking that kissing his best friend wasn’t a good idea.

the door opened to reveal a female wearing all black and a headset.

“oh, gosh, did i interrupt something?” she asked, he scratched the back of his neck as she turned a crimson color. 

kind of, he thought, but he didn’t dare say out loud.

“no, no.” the words tumbled out of his mouth,”what’s up?”

“they need you for set.” said the female before showing a shy smile. he nodded before moving away from his best friend.

“i’ll-uh, see you after?” he asked and she nodded, giving him a small smile. returned it before he walked out the door, closing it softly behind him. she landed on the cream colored sofa with a groan. 

she couldn’t believe that something she’s wanted for ages, almost came true, but then was crushed to pieces by that stupid girl in the headset. she pulled her phone out, checking all her social medias. 

soon, he had returned, a smile on his face as he walked through the door. he felt his heart swoon as he realized she was asleep on the couch. he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, realizing it said 8:34 pm, and since she was probably jet lagged and she had a long day of traveling that it’d be best if he let her sleep.

he sat down on the couch, being careful not to disturb her as he sat down. she moved softly, cuddling into his chest as she sleepily adjusted herself. he sat still, not daring to wake her up as she was getting comfortable. he let her fall back asleep into his chest, a smile on his face as she hugged at his torso, her head nuzzled into his shirt. 

he smiled down at her, taking in her facial features as she slept soundly. she practically had him wrapped around her finger. he would do anything for her, yet he didn’t know that she’d do the same for him.

as he played with her hair softly, the door opened to reveal a loud talking Jacob and Harrison. he immediately hushed them as they looked at him in confusion. Harrison’s face lit up.

“is that y/n?!” he asked, making Jacob’s mouth agape and his eyebrows raise.

“wait, is that the girl you’ve been talking about for ages?!” he asked slowly. he rolled his eyes at his two best friends, wanting to take back those night’s he’d talk about y/n and her boyfriend and how he’d been so mad that it wasn’t him who was treating her like a princess.

but little did he know, that ended months ago. y/n and her boyfriend had broken up, well, technically, she caught him cheating and dumped him. she wanted to tell Tom, she really did, but she wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea because of how mad he would’ve gotten. 

“yes, now shut up. she’s sleeping.”

they rolled their eyes,”you’re so whipped, dude.”

“how can i be whipped if she’s got a boyfriend?” he asked the blonde haired boy who had spoken up before him.

“Tom, what are you talking about?” Harrison had asked, utterly confused. the blonde then put the pieces together, his mouth forming into an ‘o’ shape.

“did she not tell you?” he asked, Jacob sat back, enjoying the juicy drama unfolding in front of him. 

“uhh, no.” Tom asked confused as well. 

“he cheated on her and she caught him and she dumped him.” he said,”it was a rough time. i thought she had talked to you about it, but i guess i was the only one.”

Tom looked down at the angel sleeping upon him. how could someone so cruel hurt such an amazing human being like her? she was so genuine, so kind, funny, smart, elegant. his heart broke for her.

“wait, so Tom, you can date her!” Jacob perked up, Harrison nodded in agreement. the two of them had wanted the both of them to get together since he first mentioned he liked y/n. 

“no, no, no.” Tom said,”i’m not ruining a friendship.”

“Tom, mate, she literally likes you! you can’t see it?” asked Harrison. Tom raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“she doesn’t, i highly doubt she’d like me.”

“Tom, you’re being so stubborn.” Harrison rolled his eyes,”she literally told me a month ago that she liked you, mate. and she’s finally single. there should be nothing holding you back!”

right then, he felt his heart stop. the world around him stopped spinning. the girl he wanted wanted him back. he felt a blush creep onto his cheeks as he looked down at her in his arms. he could already picture himself laying like that with her forever.

“you’re not playing with me, right?” he asked his best friend. 

“no, dude, why would i lie about that?” he asked. Tom smiled.

“i’m finally getting something i’ve always wanted.” he said. his two friends smiled at the scene in front of them, finally happy for their friends. 

the two finally walked into the house after a long day. she looked tired as she had just woken up from her nap about 2 hours ago, but inside she was bubbling with energy.

“so, anything new and exciting happen?” he asked, starting up a conversation.

she wanted to tell him what happened, but she didn’t know how, so for now, it was her’s and Harrison’s little secret.

or so she thought.

“pretty good,” she lied, in reality, it was hell on earth without him back in London,”how about things here? all well?”

he nodded,”you still with your boyfriend?”

her heart went to her throat. she didn’t want to lie to him about her ex forever, but if she told him what happened, it might be worse.

“uh-” she started,”uhm, a-actually, we broke up a while ago.” 

Tom gave a look of sympathy,”oh, damn. i’m sorry.”

no he’s not. he’s glad that she dumped that no good asshole.

“eh, he’s an asshole. i guess i just finally came to my senses about him.”

he nodded as she put him in the spotlight,”how about you, Holland? got a lucky girl to call your own?”

he laughed,”uhm, no actually, no girlfriend.”

se pulled her eyebrows together,”how come?”

he shrugged,”just haven’t found anyone worth the while. plus, i’ve kind of got my sights set on someone else already.”

she raised her eyebrows as she felt her heart shatter, the man she loves just said he liked someone and she knew it would never be her.

“but, my real question is, why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, she looked at him confused.

“what are you talking about?”

“why did you never tell me you liked me?”

her eyes widened as shock ran through her body. she immediately tensed up.

“who-who said that?”


i’m so killing him, she thought.

“no, no, okay, i don’t like you.” she stumbled on her words as a smirk tugged at his lips,”and if i did, i dont want to ruin my friendship with you.”

he made his way to where she was standing at the island. his body pressed against hers as a gasp escaped her lips.

“trust me, darling.” he said, his face so close to hers that she could feel his minty breath. his lips hovered over hers, only driving her crazy.

“what do you say, love? let’s risk it and ruin the friendship?” 

his lips grazed over hers before she couldn’t take it anymore. she reached up and grabbed his neck, her mouth meeting his as he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her back with just as much love and passion.

and that’s where it all started.

introduction    part I    

tags: @lostamongstthecosmos @feeling-straange

mulders-boyish-enthousiasm  asked:

How would Scully react to Mulder dropping a condom wrapping in the office?

not fucking well, dude. i just realized this wasn’t in the office, sorry!

set… post one son.


She misses him. This detail is what sometimes turns that steady simmer of annoyance – always present, even on their best days, it’s just elemental to feel whittled and weakened by him, just as it is to feel his necessity – into a rapid, unforgiving boil. And she loathes it as much as he does. This anger wears her down. This anger makes her stupid. She is weighed by it, can’t control it. And when she misses him, it’s even harder to rationalize.

But how could she not miss him? Mulder rewrites everything she has ever known about companionship. There is a seeking missile in him that works and works to pinpoint all that Dana Scully is missing in her life, and then it works to fill it.

And he is sweet. Oh, he is sweet. The gentler side of Mulder is actually all grit: the sandpaper of it smooths her out, those rugged, wary edges of her oscillating mistrust. He doesn’t listen. He never listens. He is his own first thought when he wakes up and he is the one he falls asleep to. He betrayed her. But he helps her with her coat at the end of a long work day. He is patient with her, does not take her resentment for granted. He is a shock-absorber for her bitterness. A continent-jumper, all in her honor. He carries on with his half of their partnership as if nothing had changed, his unshakable optimism imploring her that it really hadn’t. He flirts with her. He fights with her. He gets her coffee right.

But this morning he takes it further. She begins to wonder how deep her hostility cuts him – she begins to worry. He comes into the office in a rumpled suit, his face unshaven. He downs aspirin and coffee in three hour intervals. It had been almost a year since she had seen him this disheveled, back when he had nothing to believe in.

Except for her.

He clings to her. In every other way but physically, finds a million different things to talk about, fills up even the healthy silences with his rambling chatter. “Scully?” he asks. Every time she takes too long to answer. “Scully?” And that total relief when she looks up to reply. He stays in the basement for lunch, eats nothing, when she tells him she brought her lunch with her. Follows her when she checks on results from the print lab. She’s annoyed, but mostly bewildered. Then there’s the physical. His hand on her back, yes, but her shoulders, too, her wrists. It bothers her that she doesn’t mind it so much. She can’t remember the last time she really had to take care of Mulder.

“Are you alright?” she runs her hand through his hair. She misses that, too. He looks up at her, startled, but quickly molds his face into something more neutral.

“Just not feeling well, Scully.”

She doesn’t press. She’s too doubtful of her place in Mulder’s life too often, these days. But she does let him cling. She softens her voice when she speaks to him. She doesn’t brush him off, she let’s go of all of the hurt, at least for the day. He seems more than grateful for it, almost to the point of awe. It bothers her… that she doesn’t mind it so much. That she needs to be needed like this.

At the end of the day, they’re putting on their coats. Their quiet is easy and Mulder, for the most part, appears recuperated. He drapes her in her wool, like always, keeps his hands on her for a little longer than necessary. She waits for him while he slips into his suit jacket, figuring they might as well ride out together.

“I was thinking… about those prints they lifted from the victim’s car. There’s something off about the sebaceous composition. The lab says they’ve never seen it before.” She lets him lead her to her car in the bustling garage, handing out her peace offering without the hint of a smile.  “Why don’t you come over and explain to me why that means it couldn’t possibly be terrestrial in nature?”

His face lights up. God, damn him. She feels like she’s been kicking a puppy in the same tender spots for months and months. “Scully, I thought you’d never ask.” He reaches into his pocket for his own keys. “I’ll bring pizza. You still eat that, right? If you think I’m going to argue with a Dana Scully fueled on nothing but coffee and granola – shit.” Not paying attention, his keys fall to the ground with a metal splatter.

“Here, let me – “ she bends down to scoop them up, but freezes when her eyes hit the concrete.

That dark, primordial filth inside of her, the rigid tension in her protoplasm. She blacks out, like she always does. In these moments she only has the capacity to feel everything wrong. She slowly picks up the keys, and the empty condom wrapper along with it.

“Scully,” Mulder says. “Scully.”

He uses too many words. The details of an event write themselves on his face so plainly. In ruined seconds she pieces out, from his guilty, avoidant eyes and the slowness with which he forms his thoughts, what happened, who it happened with. A full case report with only a mental photograph. Her grip around the keys and wrapper tightens, but he won’t take them from her. So she lets them fall back on the floor.

She never remembers what it’s like to hate someone this much. What inspires a woman to run her lover over with her car, empty out her gun into his heart, play in the meat left over. She’s in her car before she knows it, yanking the door out of his hands with less force than she meant for. In that moment, she doesn’t miss him.

all but washed in the tide of her breathing

Ok so blame @the-pontiac-bandit for this entirely. And giant thank you to @elsaclack for reading this after I convinced myself it was garbage.

Jake’s never prayed in a hospital hallway before. He’s seen plenty of people doing it, sometimes on tv, sometimes on an average day in his job. It’s always sickened him a little, stuck with him, caught in his thoughts, the fact that watching someone praying that they don’t lose their whole world is just another day at work for him. It must be worse for the doctors and nurses, he guesses, the people on the very front lines between life and death. The memory that’s sticking in his mind, right now, on the hospital floor, is the man who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with his family.

He remembers it sharply, acutely, agonisingly, even though it was years ago now, and memories from the days before that one are faded, time-bleached. The man had paced the floor for two hours, the whole time Jake had been here with his old partner. His eyes had been wild, his lips graced with whispered curse words, prayers, spit-flecked bargains, and blood had been running down his arms from his neck wound. But that hadn’t mattered to the man. Oliver Lawson. His name had been Oliver Lawson. And once those two hours had been up, a doctor and two nurses had approached him with certain looks in their eyes, looks that Jake didn’t have a name for. Looks that Oliver understood instantly, like the half-madness of terror and grief had taught him a new language, taught him to understand what each individual crease on someone’s face meant. Oliver had crumpled to the ground, screaming a sound that Jake never knew humans could make. Through being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Oliver Lawson’s wife and two daughters had been lost to him forever.

Jake wonders, from the cold hospital floor, knees drawn to his chest, where Oliver is now. Whether he still replays that day over and over in his head. Because if this goes the way that Jake has convinced himself it’s going to, he can’t see himself ever leaving this day, not really. His body might carry on (or actually, it might stay here on the pale blue tiles forever), but his brain will live right here. It will analyse every single thing that’s happened since they woke up this morning, wondering what he could have done differently. It will rewind to her excited, apprehensive smile. To her, ‘the baby’s coming. She’s coming.’

A hand find Jake’s shoulder, and he snaps his attention to the faces in front of him. They’re not doctors, or nurses, not angels, not some deity come down to say they’re sorry. It’s Captain Holt and Rosa, crouched in front of him, hands on his shoulder. Rosa’s face is stony, determined, brow furrowed, jaw set. Captain Holt’s is sombre, readable for once. For a split, blood-turns-to-ice second, Jake’s convinced that they’re here to tell him. That they’re here because the nurses couldn’t face him, so they’re making his friends tell him instead. They’re only here because Amy went into labour whilst Jake was at work, only here because he announced to the whole precinct that he was gonna be a dad real soon. Only here because everyone swung by once the night shift took over, because they were excited too.

“Did she-?” Jake can’t finish the sentence, can’t even wrap his tongue around the words properly. They splutter and falter in his mouth, the taste of them making him feel sick.

“We haven’t heard yet, son,” Captain Holt tells him, squeezing his shoulder.

“Come sit down,” Rosa reaches for his hand, nodding in the direction of the waiting area.

“I can’t.” They don’t get it. He’s sitting right outside of the doors of the hallway that leads to the operating theatre. If he sits right here, if he keeps wishing and praying and listening, something’s got to work.

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anonymous asked:

I still can't believe that they put Shiro and Keith in there while the Holts were taking pictures. Like, in that scene, they were so out of place, and almost had no business being there, and yet, there they are? They still appeared those two times and I love it! Just out with it, Dreamworks, WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY!? No shame in admitting something that's obvious, right? ;)



But anyway as I’ve said before I think that, like Honerva and Zarkon’s earlier cameo, it’s meant to signify that we’ll be seeing a whole other flashback (or even episode) dedicated to them at the garrison in an upcoming season and I will CRY I JUST KNOW IT. And I’d like to believe Keith did have feelings for Shiro back then, because I’m confused as to why his backstory with Shiro has been purposely kept in the dark all this time. And one compelling reason for that could be to build up to a love story like they did with Zarkon and Haggar

she’s got you. [part three]

Here it is! This is the final part of this little series. I’m glad you’ve all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think, and if you’d like to request anything, my requests are open. Enjoy!

part one - part two

Word count: 2,402

“What do you mean he’s gone?” your hands started to shake from worry. The intensified nervousness that’s been building up in you for the past week was finally taking over you. You couldn’t believe he was doing this, on today of all days. Harry wasn’t the type to do this, especially with a life-altering situation such as this. Even though part of this situation was mostly your fault, you’d be damned if he left his fiance at the altar.

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@mostthingskenobi sent me an ask a little while ago about Obi-Wan and a tattoo, and I couldn’t help thinking there would be some kind of story behind it? So, here’s how I can imagine this going down:

It’s the end of a major battle (sometime around the end of S2), Obi-Wan has been pretty seriously injured, and his armor is just wrecked with blaster fire. Once Kix has everyone stabilized and they’re waiting for the medical frigate, the troops do as they do to keep entertained: new tattoos! For the Shinies, for the vets, and then… for the Jedi? Don’t you want one General? How about you, Commander? Ahsoka declines on the grounds that her skin coloration is still changing, and she doesn’t want to be stuck with something that’ll look weird once she’s grown up. Anakin makes himself scarce – Kix’s tattoo needle reminds him uneasily of the tool used to implant the microtransmitters into slaves on Tatooine, though he’d never admit it. Obi-Wan runs out of objections somewhere between when his painkillers kick in and about halfway through someone’s hip flask of Corellian whiskey.

Anakin returns to find Obi-Wan, passed out, with a half-finished Jedi Order emblem on his shoulder. He tries to explain to the troops that you can’t just tattoo someone when they’re unconscious, but they argue that this is clearly the best time, cause then you can’t feel it! And the General picked the design, they wouldn’t just do it without his permission. (Also, “Snips, how could you let this happen?” “Master, I can’t forbid Master Kenobi from getting a tattoo if he says he wants one!” “You can if he’s flying with no stabilizers!” “…Master?” “Drunk, Snips.”)

Obi-Wan comes to on the medical frigate and concludes that the tattoo seemed like a much better idea when he was drugged (something about his armor being ruined, so if he just put the emblem right on his shoulder he wouldn’t need it anymore…well, it made sense at the time…). But, by this time the clones are so tickled about General Kenobi taking part in their post-battle tradition that he doesn’t have the heart to have it lasered off right away.

A Shitty Story

This happened today, gonna need to provide some backstory.

I work at a religious-sponsored club and rec center that I found at a college job fair. I’ve worked a few jobs in different departments throughout the building, but currently I am working in their hourly daycare center and have been for about a week. This is a place where staff members drop off their kids for the day, or people who need time for their workout or swim kid-free. The center is open until 7 pm, and after 4 pm you need to have a reservation called in the day before if you want to leave a kid.

So today I’m working the closing shift alone; it’s a standard day with mostly staff kids that I know. The last of the group leaves around 5, and I start getting around to cleaning for about half an hour when I hear the door start to open. Odd, I don’t have an reservations written down for the night. A girl probably in her mid twenties comes in with 3 girls (a baby, a 2.5 year old, and a 5 year old) that have never been in the daycare center before. I smile and ask her if she has a reservation (I know she doesn’t, and since they’d never been here there’s a lot more paperwork to be done) and she says “well I’m just their nanny, their mom made one”. It’s against policy but I can’t take it out on her, so I just ask for the mother’s information so I can call her. She’s exasperated and tells me that their mom is teaching a spin class in the room next door (not an official club staff member, just someone the company has contracted) and will be by in just a moment to check them in, and then she leaves a bag full of the girls’ stuff, hands me the baby in her carrier, and takes off before I can get a word in edgewise. Great. But there’s nothing much I can do. So I take the baby and start talking to the girls, getting friendly, trying to get basic information from them that should’ve been passed on by the nanny. And lord let me tell you, these girls are a handful. The 5 year old is just about the most precocious, attitudinal human I have ever met. Won’t stop sassing me, going on about how she has better toys and snacks at home, telling me she knows “everything” there is to know about child care so I don’t even have to worry about taking care of her sisters because she can do it herself, on and on and on. Acting way beyond her years. I thought she was like a short 10 year old until she told me how old she was. Middle sister was just off the walls hyper, nothing much to say. Worth mentioning that she is wearing a short dress and underwear, instead of a pull up like most children her age. However she did tell me once that she needed to go potty, and seemed to be completely trained. This will matter later. Baby is an angel, slept through most of the chaos.

About 20 minutes goes by, and I’m getting incredibly anxious by the lack of the girls’ Mom. I don’t want to put my job or the center itself in jeopardy because all sorts of rules and regulations are being ignored, but there’s nothing I can do otherwise. Suddenly, 5 year old says “I’m gonna go check on my mom in her class, I’m gonna take (middle child) with me”. I tell her that she isn’t allowed to just leave, that she needs one of her parents to come sign her out because it’s not safe. She freaks out and throws a fit, really lets me have it. I’m not the boss of her, she’s a big girl and she can go wherever she wants, the like. I just continue to play calmly with the baby who has woken up by this point, knowing the door is locked and she’s safe, but I’m not going to feed into her tantrum. Nope.
Oh and finally, around 6 pm, Mom shows up. An adult embodiment of her oldest spawn. I tell her about the reservation rules, and that this can’t happen again. She’s very short with me, telling me it’s “fine” because she’s “staff” (she isn’t, I checked front desk after the entire incident) and she’s just next door so why would it matter. She then steps over my gate dividing my computer and desk and the front door from the rest of the daycare (a big pet peeve of mine, when parents come into the main center) and starts fawning over her children, starts going through the snack cabinet (no!!) and tries to grab things for her daughters before I stop her, tries to get in the locked back room where we keep a lot of supplies “just to see what’s in there”, etc etc etc. I can’t explicitly tell her to leave but it creates big problems when parents get meddled in, the kids will freak out more when they leave, creates problems for me, etc. She eventually leaves and says she’ll be back to pick them up at 7 when her next class is over.
And of course, the youngest two children lose their mind. It takes forever to calm them down. Fast forward to about 6:50. I’m losing hope the Mom will actually be on time so I try to start my cleaning routine so I don’t have to stay for an hour after. But no. Middle child waddles up to me, hands in her underwear, smelling like shit. Literally shit. I don’t even have to ask her before I scoop her up and take her to the potty (inside the center so I’m still within seeing range of the other two children, happily engaged in their toys) and try to clean up the mess she’s made. And it’s a big one. I put a pull-up diaper on her before I hear a knock on the door which I’ve left unlocked (around 7:05 at this point) and the familiar high pitched voice of the Mom (and her husband with her, inexplicably). She starts screaming my name, I leave the mess and the shit filled underwear on top of the toilet to deal with later, pick up the child at hand, and go out to meet her. She squeals her child’s name and she wriggles out of my arms to go to her mom, at this point I think I’ve become invisible. Dad starts playing with the older two children, Mom starts breastfeeding, meanwhile I’m trying to tell them about the accident their daughter just made. The only response I get from dad is “oh that’s fine, she is still getting a grip on the whole potty thing”. Oh. Awesome. Would’ve been fantastic to know when yOUR CHILDREN WERE DROPPED OFF. Mom and dad start discussing dinner plans in excruciating detail, their children are still playing with the toys (it’s like 7:15 at this point, I’m supposed to have the lights off and door locked by 7). To make a point, I try to start cleaning up, but it’s largely unnoticed.
And this is when I remember the poopy underwear. Policy is we take any soiled clothing and stick it in a plastic garbage bag and hand it off to the parents. I go quietly into the bathroom, with the expensive purse serving as a diaper bag handed off to me earlier in tow. I take the shitty underwear (didn’t even attempt to clean it out, trust me there were BIG chunks) with a gloved hand and loosely, verrry loosely throw it in a bag, don’t tie it off, stick it open side down in the fancy diaper bag, and shake it around a little. I hand it off to the parents with a big sickly sweet smile on my face. They half heartedly tell their kids to clean up, but I say sweetly that I can handle it, they should head out because they’ve had a long day. They hardly say a word of thanks as they pack up their stuff and their now-screaming children, and I’m left to finish cleaning and trying hard not to cackle and rub my hands together.

TL;DR Three siblings get dumped at my daycare with no notice or proper paperwork filled out, Mom ignores policies, makes me stay a half hour late, and overall treats me like shit, so I leave her diaper bag full of shit in return.

Not a game anymore pt 3

After 10 years of being in the dark, memories of a tragedy rise to the surface of the reader’s mind and she is consumed with grief, anger and vengeance. But why is the monstrous clown awake 17 years before it should be? Questions are in need of answering and the lives of many other children and adults alike are in need of saving. It’s only a matter of time before the reader loses another close friend or worse. But does the reader have the willpower to confront the clown, or will her mind cripple under pressure?

Wearing the bell around her neck is a constant reminder that she is back in the grasp of the terror clown. She won’t remove it in fear of what he may do to her but she can only hope her friend doesn’t comment on it. The situation with her deceased best friend and the sort of apology from Pennywise still holds her back from accepting what happened, after all, the clown couldn’t feel anything other than hunger, surely.

Hey it’s Captain Asshole here bringing you a chapter of their story rather than the request they should be putting out right now. But that’s how I roll. I live to disappoint more and more people every day. I don’t wanna make promises but I hope to have it up within the next couple of days. I’m sorry for the wait. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. And as always, let me know if you wanna be tagged in the future!

Not a clownfucker? Why you here? Weird dude. I don’t tag my stuff in the main It movie tags so it’s on you dude not me.


The bell would jingle whenever you moved your upper body, a constant reminder that //he// was always present in some way. Maybe even watching your every move. So you were cautious with your daily life, no longer actively researching about the recent victims and ways you could possibly stand up to Pennywise. But in doing so, you’d already extended your trip for a longer period, expecting to be there for a while.

Your friend was busy most of the time, spending the late afternoons to spend time with you when his shifts would end. Because you were alone most of the time, you chose to be around the public, visiting the library (avoiding going anywhere like the archives) or going to diners to simply sit and read or doodle or do anything. Any reason to not be alone at any time because you needed to think. You couldn’t afford another visit from the clown yet, not until you could have closure on many things. Your fears, trying to somehow forgive him for killing your best friend 10 years ago, the victims he chose and why the hell he was awake so early swirled around in your head like a thick soup of thoughts and a constant headache.

Maybe…maybe the only way to find answers was to ask the creepy clown him(it)self. But that would mean facing him again and you weren’t so sure if you were ready for that still. It came as a shock when he showed up the first time you were alone and it had created a bubble of nervousness to surround you. There were times where you certainly checked behind your back more than once just to be sure he wasn’t there.


You sipped on your usual hot beverage now, your eyes glued to the screen of the laptop set on the table you were accommodating. You weren’t doing a lot, just flicking between your social media platforms and occasionally typing a few things on a word document to clear them from your head. It was a technique you’d adopted from a collegue some time ago so you weren’t distracted from work and now it was what you did most. You didn’t often keep the blocks of text later on, usually just deleting them without rereading them because to do so would fill your head with those thoughts again.

Your fingers tapped on the keys lightly as you noted down your current thoughts. As you typed out a paragraph or a sentence, you would flick back to Twitter or another social media platform so you weren’t overwhelmed. This time, your thoughts were pulled from your screen by someone sliding into the chair opposite you. You grinned at the figure when you realised who it was.

“Oh hey there, (mf/n).” You greeted lightly. The young man beamed at you and pulled his chair closer to the table.

“Hiya. I got out of work earlier today.” He responded in his gently voice. You raised an eyebrow.

“Huh. How did you know where to find me?”

“The main barista here is a friend of mine. He says you come here a lot.”

You chuckled and shook your head in disbelief.

“Of course he’s your friend. It’s true though, I come here nearly every day.”

(Mf/n) stared at you with his doe-like eyes, his gaze almost intense and slightly uncomfortable.

“You’re always away from home when I’m out. There’s a reason for that, isn’t there?” He asked quietly, the tone more serious. Your brows furrowed a little and your gaze dropped to the table.

“No. I just- it’s nice to be out and about.”

The male in front of you frowned and folded his arms on the table.

“You’re lying. You don’t wanna be alone, do you?” You shifted in your seat and your hands slowly curled into fists but despite this, he didn’t stop. “And what about that necklace, huh? That looks horribly familiar-”

“Shut up.” You cut him off in a low, aggressive voice. Your gaze had darkened and you were breathing heavily. Your eyes glanced at the laptop screen and they widened for the search feed on Instagram was no longer on screen, something sinister and malicious grinned at you with sharp teeth and the paleness of the skin contrasted against the orange hair glared at you, burning into your retinas. All sense of anger that had annoyingly bubbled to the surface was wiped away now as you slammed the lid of the laptop down with so much force you were sure to have caused damage. Your eyes flicked to (mf/n) for a moment and he stared in confusion.

“What’s- what’s wrong?”

“We should head back home. I’m sorry.” You said mutedly. You ignored everything and everyone around you whilst you stuffed the closed laptop into your bag, wanting to be ready to leave as soon as. You barely glanced to see if (mf/n) was following you as you exited the diner. You just wanted to go back to the house and curl up under the covers and hope the day would end quickly.

But as you rushed down the road, a hand grasped your wrist and pulled you to a stand still, making you cry out in surprise and spin round to hit whoever it was. Luckily for them, they had fast reflexes and easily deflected your swing.

“(Y/n), stop!” (Mf/n) snapped and your breath caught into your throat.

“Shit! Don’t ever scare me like that again!” You cried and tried to pull your hand away from his grip but he was persistent.

“I had to stop you rushing off. Look, I’m sorry about pushing you but I’m concerned.” He muttered and his gaze shifted away from you almost bashfully. You sighed gently with a saddened frown.

“I know… You don’t need to apologise though, I’m being difficult like always. I’m surprised you still talk to me seeing as the others don’t. I’m the worst.”

(Mf/n) then pulled you in for one of his warm hugs and you exhaled as he gently squeezed you.

“Don’t say that about yourself. None of us really knew of what you were going through. Hell, I still don’t but I wanna help you. So please, don’t shut me out.” He said, his words muffled against the top of your head. You were acutely aware that you were both obstructing the sidewalk but in that moment you didn’t care, you craved the affection and comfort for a lot had changed over 10 years. You pulled away eventually though and you messed with the zip of your friend’s jacket.

“He won’t leave me alone. That evening, when I was home alone, he came to me and had me wear the necklace. He was…different this time though. Something with his body language was not as aggressive or creepy as he had been ten years ago.” You looked up to meet eyes with (mf/n). “What do you think it means?”

The male swallowed nervously and his shifted from one foot to another.

“I don’t know but I don’t like it. Nothing good’ll come out of it though.”

He was right. You knew deep down that Pennywise liked to play games, to manipulate and strike fear in the hearts of his victims to the point of near madness because he was sadistic and in the end he was going to consume each and every one of the children and adults he chose to. But for some reason that you couldn’t pinpoint, the thought made you sad. You were just food to him, his finest meal he’ll ever eat. With a sigh, you pulled away from (mf/n) and smiled faintly.

“Come on, let’s go back home.” You murmured. He didn’t question you and instead followed you back to his house, all traces of conversation filtered away.


You were dreaming that night but you wish you weren’t. Dreams were no longer welcome in your mind and hadn’t been for some time because of the nature of them. For the first few years of your new life, you took prescription drugs to prevent dreams when you went to be because they affected you so badly. But eventually you had stopped taking them because you had begun to feel empty and no one would approach you anymore. You’d become lonely, craving contact with people because being alone was frightening and depressing. But now you wish you had some of those pills to take now.

In your dream now you were floating through a world of shimmering darkness, like a black liquid infused with fine glittery particles that swirled in ever-changing shapes and patterns. For the most part, you felt relaxed but there was still a hint of nervousness. What you were worried about was what you weren’t able to pinpoint on in this dream. However, you were about to find out.

You didn’t see the gloved hand curl round your head but you felt it clasp over your mouth, startling you to the point of awakening with wide eyes, shooting up but immediately being slammed down by a rough force. It took a short moment for your eyes to adjust in the dark and focus on the face directly in front of you. And then your scream was muffled behind the large hand still pressed against your mouth as your eyes stared into Pennywise’s amber ones.

“Shhh… You don’t want to wake your f-f-friend up, do you?” He hissed at you and you froze. His weight pinned you down into the mattress as he straddled you, his knees either side of your shoulders with the long length of his legs. You were uncomfortable as your hands had automatically reached out to his hand to try pry it from your mouth with no success, the need to breathe increasing by the second. He could tell, no doubt smelling your desperation.

“Don’t cry out if I move my hand away, will you?” He asked quietly and your nodded slightly, your wide eyes never blinking. He smirked and his hand slid away, trailing down your neck and the centre of your chest to rest with his other hand on your stomach. You inhaled sharply and exhaled as he leaned his head down close to your face.

“Why are you here?” You asked him and he grunted, his dark nose scrunching up and his plump lips pouting.

“I can’t keep away from you but you won’t stop being around others.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly.

“That’s because I want to be as far away from you as possible until I’ve collected my thoughts.” You replied tightly. His face was inches from yours now and it strained your eyes to focus on his.

“What are you thinking of, little one?”

You didn’t like that nickname, you told yourself. And yet it made you feel tingly. You shivered a little as his unnaturally sweet breath fanned across your face.

“I wanna know why you’re awake early.” You asked after a moment, your gaze shifting away to glance into the darkness of the room. The creature tensed up dramatically to the point where you were convinced he was stone. He stared at you, his lazy eye pointing almost completely the opposite way it should be and after 30 seconds you had become extremely unnerved and freaked out. But he still did not move. You shifted under him, trying to move his hands or his legs to move away from his looming face but he had an iron grip on you.

“P-Pennywise, come on. Say something.” You whispered harshly and it seemed to snap him out of his trance. He sprung backwards to crouch at the foot of the bed, his already angry brow more furrowed than before.

“You. Y-you’ve done something to me.” He rumbled at you.


You pushed your covers back and got onto all fours to crawl towards him, your brow furrowed. You couldn’t understand why you approached him, or why your hand reached out to grab him. It didn’t make sense. You should be cowering in fear of him, but you weren’t.

Pennywise didn’t allow your hand to reach him, he instead snapped his hand out to curl his hand around your throat and throw you backwards against your pillows, nearly causing whiplash. You could only choke, your airway cut off under his grip as his now amber tinged with red eyes bored down into your own eyes.

“You fear me, but it doesn’t make me wanna eat you.” He growled. You wanted to speak, to say something. He didn’t want to eat you? What did this mean? But you couldn’t ask anything more for when the fingertip of his index finger of his free hand lightly tapped your forehead, you were instantly plunged into the darkness of sleep. And soon, the swirling glitter particles invaded your dreams once more.


Wowee this took way longer than it should have to write. I’m annoyed to be honest and again, I’m sorry the requests aren’t out yet. I’ll get them out sometime soon.

Tags: @kurai-ai @perfect-ginger-maniac @cupcakeatl @deaths-maiden @knaivity @littleroserh @oh-my-gerd @bgt1387 @kiss-my-assbut @negan1993 @iheartpennywise88 @yummypennywise @forever-a-starlight-mar-mar @rosesnpixies @super-nerd-autral @montseskellington @pattusca @penny-trash @geekguy1819 @hoe-for-daddywise @cyberkoalakitty @peardream72 @allkundsofwrong @booklover2929 @serkewen12 @losers-and-pennywise @winter-slays @kaylees1414 @queenylime @lovemeclowndaddy @hello-helianthus @sallyanne0606 @lovers-on-call-13 @wtf-it @signalbonae15

A New Life

Part One

Summary: Your family is killed while you are out celebrating Fall Break with some friends from college. You’re about to take your own life when the Winchester boys come rolling in. They turn your world completely inside out, but along the way you discover a new purpose in hunting and a love you never even dreamed could exist.

Words: 1,978

Warnings: angst; talk of death and attempting suicide

A/N: I’ve never really written anything before, so please be nice if it’s terrible and ridiculous. It was kind of just a therapeutic thing for me to write. I was having a bad day and it made me feel better to think of Dean and Sam coming to the rescue. :) Feedback and reblogging or whatever is welcome! I’m new to Tumblr, so I’m still figuring out what to do.

(P.S. I’m a Dean girl through and through, so eventually this will be a Dean x Reader.)




You look out over the river and watch the current as you try to calm your anxious mind. The scenery really was beautiful. It was a cloudy autumn day, and you could see over the treetops that a storm was heading your way. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and inhale the fresh autumn air. Being here was almost peaceful and, had you been in a better place, you might have enjoyed the moment. You shake your head as unwelcome memories start creeping into your mind.

You hear tires screeching behind you, but you still don’t open your eyes. You try to ignore the opening of car doors behind you as you try to fix your focus back on the sound of the rushing water below.


“Excuse me!”

You hear two male voices calling out to you at the same time. You take another deep breath, and try to ignore them before you lose your nerve.

“What the hell are you doing? Get down from there before you fall!” One of the voices said. You could hear them running up behind you, but you didn’t care. You stayed planted where you were on the edge of the bridge.

“Dean, cool it. That’s not going to help.” The other voice said. He turned his attention back to you and spoke softly. “Hey. I’m Sam, and this is my brother, Dean. We just want to talk to you for a sec… Can you tell us your name?”

You take another breath, and slowly open your eyes. You look out at the trees, taking in all the warm colors of the leaves. You glance at the water below. It feels a lot higher up than when you first got here, and you can feel yourself slowly unraveling and losing your nerve.

“Hey.” You hear Sam’s soft voice again.

You glance behind you and notice the one that said his name was Sam is a few feet behind you to the left. He’s holding his hands up, and his face is wary as he tries to reassure you that he’s not a threat to you. You turn and look over your right shoulder to see his brother, Dean, also a few feet away. His jaw is locked, and he’s staring intently at you. His body is tensed, and you get the sense that if you made a move to jump, he would be ready to close the gap between you and try to intervene.

“Can you tell us your name?” Sam repeats again. You take another deep breath, looking away from both of them out at the water again, as you hold on to the railing with one hand. “Y/N.” You reply in a whisper. You’re fighting the urge to cry again as tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes.

“Y/N. That’s a nice name.” Sam says in a soothing voice as he takes another cautious step toward you. “I know you don’t know us, but we just want to help. Can you get down and talk to us?”

You let out a long, shaky breath you hadn’t realized that you’d been holding in. You begin trembling as all of the events of the past few weeks come crashing back down on you. The grief and depression you repressed all morning was starting to suffocate you. Your tears betrayed you and started silently rolling down your face. “I…can’t.” You choke out.

Your mind was racing. You didn’t know why, but you wanted to be able to tell them what happened. How you’d lost everything. How you didn’t really want to die, but you just couldn’t stand living anymore. How you wanted them to save you from what you were considering doing. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Y/N. Talk to us. Please… We just want to help.” Sam spoke again. He was trying to sound calm, but you heard the hitch in his voice. You glanced over one shoulder, then the other to see that both boys had gotten closer. They froze, not wanting to push you too far.

You swallowed hard, as the tears continued to roll down your cheeks. “I…” You trailed off. It felt like your heart and lungs were being crushed. Your knees buckled beneath you, and you swayed as your emotions came rushing back to the surface. In the same instant, you felt Dean’s strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you off the railing of the bridge. You went limp in his arms, and crumpled into a heap on the ground. You felt like you were drowning, and you could no longer hold in the sobs that rocked through you.

“Hey, it’s alright… You’re okay, Y/N.” Dean said as he held you in his arms on the ground. You turned and continued to sob into his chest as he gently rocked you back and forth.

“Is there anyone we can call for you?” Sam asked. You shook your head and began crying harder. Sam furrowed his brow, and you could tell he felt bad for asking the wrong question.

The boys sat with you until you started to calm down; Dean cradling you protectively in his arms as Sam held your hand. When the tears slowed, you tried again to speak. “They’re…gone.” You whispered. “My family. A few weeks ago…they were my whole world. I have nothing left… I don’t want to live in a world where they don’t exist.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry…” Sam trailed off. The three of you sat in silence for several more minutes until you found that you could cry no more. The need was still there, but you had cried so much lately that your eyes felt like they’d dried out.

Dean unraveled his arms and sat back so he could look at you. “How’d you get here, sweetheart? There’s not a car remotely close to here. Did someone just leave you out here alone?”

You shook your head. “Last night, everything was just… too much. I decided I didn’t want to fight anymore.” You drew in another long, shaky breath. “I couldn’t fight anymore. I realized how completely alone I was in my motel room and…something in me just broke. My car wouldn’t start, and I couldn’t sit still anymore, so I just started walking.” You bit your lip as you realized you had no idea just how far you’d walked, or where exactly you were.

“So here’s the thing,” Sam said, pausing to choose his next words carefully. “I don’t think you should be alone right now. Could we give you a ride? Maybe we can go back and get your stuff, and you can stay with us for a couple days. You know, just so you don’t have to be alone. We were just passing through town and our…job finished a couple days early. We don’t have anywhere to be right now.”

You tried to reason with yourself that you should be more worried about the consequences of being whisked away by two strangers you just met, but at this point you didn’t care. You felt numb. You were physically and emotionally exhausted, and you figured that anything would be better than continuing to lie here on the side of the road. 

Besides. They had just saved you from what could have been an impulsive and permanent decision. You felt like you owed it to them to try, and something about them made you think you could trust them. You felt safer already with them here. 

You looked up at Sam and nodded once.

Dean scooped you up and carried you to his sleek, black car. As he helped you into the back seat, they asked what motel you were staying at. You answer, but you can feel the exhaustion from today catching up with you. The last thing you remembered hearing was the engine roar to life as you drifted off to sleep.

You woke up later to the low hum of voices. You were disoriented for a moment and unsure of how you got to be on this unfamiliar motel bed. With a sinking feeling, everything came flooding back to you. But before you could dwell on that, the boys noticed you stirring and came to sit on the other bed across from you.

Dean piped up first. “How’re you feeling, kid?”

You sat up, hugged your knees to your chest, and shrugged. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Sam asked. He hurriedly added, “You don’t have to. But we’re here to listen if you wanted to.”

You hesitated, but felt like they were genuinely concerned for you. Again, you had a nagging feeling that these were people you could trust. Even if they were strangers.

 “I was out of town.” You said quietly. “I…found them when I got back. My family.” They waited patiently for you to continue. “It was horrible. I got home late on a Friday night after hanging out with some friends from undergrad… It was the middle of the night because we had closed down the bars. I was going to spend the rest of the weekend with them before Fall Break was over, and… Walking through the door I could just feel something wasn’t right, you know?” You were whispering now, and you started to cry again as you recalled the scene from just a few weeks ago.

“I found my dad first. In the living room. His rifle was a few feet away… I’m sure he had heard whoever it was and tried to protect my mom and little brother. There was just… blood everywhere. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is that night in my house. I grew up in that house. It was… it was my family. I should have been there, I should have…”

By this point, you were sobbing again. Sam came to sit by you on the bed, and put his arm around you. “Y/N, you couldn’t have known that was going to happen. And if you had been there…you would be gone too.” You knew he was trying to choose his words carefully, but it still knocked the air out of you to hear someone reiterate that your family was gone.

“You know the worst part?” You asked. “They still haven’t caught the person who did it. I mean… they said it had to be some sort of serial killer, but that was the last I heard of it.” Suddenly, your temper flared and you started shouting between sobs. “What kind of sick, cruel bastard would do such a thing?! My family is GONE, all because of some sick Halloween freak that gets off on murdering people!”

“Sick, Halloween freak?” Dean is confused.

“Yeah. It was like something out of a horror movie. Like he’s got some sick cannibal or vampire fetish. Every one of their throats were torn up, like… teeth marks. Can you imagine someone biting… he just…” You couldn’t talk about it anymore. The images that came flooding back made you sick and again you felt the desire to end your life and escape this pain.

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, he said, “Like… it was as if someone bit their throats?”

You nodded. “More like…tore their throat apart rather than a bite…but yeah.”

Through your tears, you saw Sam and Dean share a look. “Y/N… I’m so sorry. I hate to ask you to talk about it anymore, but…”

“But, what?” You sniffed. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You wanted to find a way to erase the horrible images etched in your mind.

Dean leaned toward you, resting his elbows on his knees. He glanced at Sam, then back at you. “Y/N… There’s some things you should know about what’s out there in the world.”

Lol, whoops don't have a title

(Yo, what up people! I have a very big obsession with Spiderman and I gotta soothe that obsession through fanfic. So enjoy. If, for whatever reason you people want more of these then put it in the comment thingy at the bottom. Hope yah enjoy!)

Tony Stark was prepared for a lot of things.

He was prepared for the alien race who’s name had so many vowels in it, it looked like someone had dropped the scrabble letters.

He was prepared for Steve’s infamous tantrums because yes, Captain America did pout and as funny as it was to watch, Tony had plenty of expensive but easily broken equipment just within arms reach.

Tony was prepared if his suit malfunctioned. If his backup suit malfunctioned. Even if his backup backup suits malfunctioned.

Tony was everything but prepared for Peter Parker.

The kid, he just wormed his way into Tony’s life, his bubbly bursting personality completely picking away at the wall Tony had spent so much time putting up. God damnit, that shit took time.

And Peter was loud. Tony was willing to bet Peter would talk to himself in the mirror if no one else was listening. But he also adored Tony. Clung onto every word that Tony said and filed it away for later.

Peter was also excited about everything. Once Tony caught Peter’s drink before it fell and the kid all but did a backflip.

So when Peter sluggishly dragged his feet against Tony’s fancy new carpet and walked straight into a glass window, Tony knew something was up.

And when Peter refused to come down for dinner and to instead catch an early night, Tony felt an unfamiliar pang of worry in his chest.

Tony had long forgotten what an “early” night was. He spent far too long in his lab concentrating on some very important gadget to look out out the window and see the rising sun.

“Sir,” FRIDAY interrupted and totally did not scare Tony what are you talking about, “Would you like a nightly check on Mister Parker?” FRIDAY asked.

Tony frowned, fingers itching to pick his technology backup but nodded nonetheless.

“Mister Parker has a fever of 33 degrees and seems to be suffering quite a high level of distress in his sleep.”

A large wave of complex worry surged through Tony and he was halfway out the room without even remembering to deactivate FRIDAY.

Tony was quick into Peter’s room, not even bothering to knock as loud cries were forcing their way through the door.

Peter was thrashing around in his bed, fighting against his covers as he screamed loudly. His lamp was on the floor and some of the bedside crap the kid had brought over was also over the floor. Peter gave another high shriek and his hand whipped out and smashed against the corner of the bedside table with a harsh whack.

“Peter! Kid, wake up!” Tony sat on the bed, hesitant to shake Peter awake as he seemed in so much distress. But listening to his crying was even harder.

“Peter!” Tony shook Peter’s shoulder’s and his eyes instantly snapped open at the contact, a harsh sob leaving his mouth.

Before Tony could properly calm Peter down, or even process what was going on, Peter’s eyes widened and he shot up like a rocket and pushed Tony out the way before heaving over the edge of the bed.

His shoulders jumped forward and with a loud splat, Peter lost his dinner. With another violent hitch of his shoulders, another copious amount of sick poured from Peter’s mouth.

Tony was not prepared for this. Aliens, death, pouty superheroes, Tony was prepared. This was more out of his world than any form of a comfort zone.

But Tony could hear the soft sobs between heaves and a harsh tug on his heartstrings made his hand reach out and rub up and down Peter’s back in what he hoped was a soothing motion.

“You’re okay.” He muttered, feeling an alarming heat through Peter’s top. Keeping one hand on Peter’s back, his other snaked around and cupped Peter’s forehead. It was absolutely burning.

“Oh, kid.” Tony sighed, wincing sympathetically as Peter now seemed to have exported everything he’d ate, possibly in his lifetime and was now painfully dry heaving instead.

“-Sorry-” Peter gasped any chance he could draw breath. “God- ‘m so- sorry.”

Finally, the heaving seemed to taper off, but any of Peter’s energy had completely left and he slumped forward, exhausted.

“Okay, easy, easy.” Tony soothed, pulling Peter back until he rested against his chest. Tony began brushing Peter’s sweaty hair back. He didn’t know why he did it but it seemed to soothe Peter even slightly.

“I’m so sorry.” Peter wept, his voice raw with emotion. It sounded painful.

“Shh, don’t even start, kid.” Tony hushed him but Peter shook his head, adamant.

“Bein’ such- a bother.”

“No,” Tony said firmly. “Never. I don’t want you to ever say that again.”

Another sob hitched in Peter’s chest and Tony’s heart hurt so bad he ended up pulling the kid up and hugged him against his chest.

“You’re okay. I’m gonna make sure you’ll be just fine.” Tony reassured once again. Hot tears soaked into shirt and Tony resumed rubbing Peter’s back.

He felt Peter’s fingers grip the back of his shirt in response and Tony knew there was no way he was gonna finish his tech tonight. It could wait.

Enemy asks for names.

Pidge talking to the enemy: …Lance Macclain, and Keith Cocaine-I MEAN Kogane.

Enemy turns around: Put down Keith Cocaine, they think they have us fooled.


Keith: We won’t let you hurt anyone else!

Enemy: Oh yeah? Try and stop us Keith Cocaine. That’s right, we knew!





Lance: *wheezing and stomping from laughing*

anonymous asked:

you know the ep is great and rewatchible but ironcally its the fandom that hates the one not to be named made it about him????? this ep show that its kara trauma, that it was trigger before psi but that in her mind she been feeling for months. the huilt of putting someone she cared about in the same position she was at age 13. ALSO FUCK THE USED OF FIRST POV 👌

Yeah man, I don’t know what to tell you other than I find it highly ironic that people who were so “offended” by this show’s handling of mental health can’t see that obsessing over someone they dislike to the point that they derail other people’s meta, fics, or conversations just to bring him up is … neither healthy nor normal.

This episode did a sensitive, caring job of depicting longstanding trauma and PTSD, and it was written in a way that’s consistent with everything we’ve known about Kara since Day 1, so if you actually like Kara as a character, this was a pretty solid effort.

anonymous asked:

17 and 19 for the adorable asks? :)

17. Favorite game as a child?

i think i’ve talked about this game before, but it’s been a while and i really love to talk about it. 

my cousins and i had this game called Police that we played all the time, and it was kinda like tag/hide-and-seek. basically, one of us would be the cop, and the others would be the inmates. the inmates would all be put in someone’s bedroom with the door shut, and you had to listen for the cop to fall asleep.

once the cop was asleep, sprawled out on the floor in some difficult and insane position, you had to step carefully over the cop and make sure you didn’t touch them (because if the cop “woke up” the inmates immediately lost). once you were out of the room, you had just a minute to hide before the cop got up and came look for you. but, you had to keep moving and try to get outside before the cop caught you. if the cop caught you, then you got thrown back in the bedroom.

you had to hide together, and get outside together. if someone got thrown in the bedroom, you lost. if the inmates got outside, they won. 

it was so much fun i loved playing that as a kid omg

19. Princess, Fairy, Mermaid, or Unicorn?

i really, really, really, really, really, really love mermaids. always have, always will.

anonymous asked:

I think the 'killing stalking' anon was talking about the manwha by the very name! Just a heads up. But I do appreciate your refusal to do any memes that put mental illness in a criminal/negative light like that.

Thank you for clarification! I’ve never heard of Manwha before, so generally when someone doesn’t say “based on ____” in a way that’s really clear, I imagine they’re asking for an idea they’ve thought of on their own. Still, if I were to make a prompt based on that, I’d likely still leave out details that make criminal assumptions about real people and enforce prejudices and let the individual RPers fill in details and motives on their own. :) 

anonymous asked:

god, i feel so stupid for asking this. first of all, i love your blog. second of all, i am not familiar with the lgbt flags and i would like to know which of the colors meant which in your trans-felt doodle! i’m sorry—

Don’t feel dumb!! I actually expected this ask to come hhah

Anyway uhm… gonna put this under a read more so it doesn’t crowd up someone’s dash-

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

In the unlikely event that scriddler raised a kid what do you think they'd grow up to be like??

Short answer: a hot mess.

This is gonna be one of those answers people probably won’t like at all, but it’s my answer to this question.

I have gone over Edward’s likely outcome as a parent in this post. It is extremely likely that adding Jonathan to this would make the whole thing even worse.

Jonathan’s life goals imply low empathy. That is, he spends all of his time working to destroy people’s lives to the utmost. The goal of the toxin is, basically, to torture someone with their own mind until they’re an inconsolable wreck. This is not a man you want around children. Yes, I am aware there is one comic where he displayed empathy for one child, after torturing her and many other children. This is an outlier in his behaviour, not the norm. The argument now might be, “but Indy, couldn’t his own child be an outlier as well?”. Perhaps, but unlikely. Children, particularly babies, take up a tremendous amount of time. Jonathan typically wants to spend all of his time reading or doing research and regards even necessary things such as eating and sleeping as wastes of time. He would probably find the child far more interesting as a research subject than an actual person he’s supposed to be raising. This would mean the child develops significant trust issues and would probably become confused as to emotional bonding; they have two fathers and one of them is either always ‘busy’ or asking them weird questions about the monster under their bed. This would probably create significant stress for Edward and in turn their relationship would suffer. If Jonathan DID, somehow, actually want to parent the child, it would probably be in short spans between projects until he started asking himself why he was parenting instead of finding new research subjects.

If they had a kid, I cannot see Jonathan actually wanting it. He might agree if he sees Edward wants it badly enough, but I do not see him desiring one on his own or caring about them overmuch. If the kid managed to grow up to be an adult under their sole supervision - that is, the both of them managed to raise a child for eighteen years despite being in and out of mental hospitals and superprisons - the child would likely have all the problems in my post about Edward being a single parent plus difficulty relating to others, empathising with them, and forming connections with them. I do not see them reconnecting and having a significant relationship with Jonathan in adulthood. Maybe not even Edward either, because if he loved them as much as he claims wouldn’t he have taken them out of such a toxic environment?

I apologise if you were actually looking for cute headcanons or something and not whatever this is.