baseball sort of

“boom, yo~” ..someday I’ll actually do something with this character because I feel like there’s some kind of playfully absurd potential in here somewhere, both with her design and whatever world she inhabits. but for now Gumm’s just fun to draw every now and then. I don’t draw her smiling enough but I should, as I often imagine her having a pretty snarky and antagonistic personality.

  • Murdoc: They've said that if your ticket machine is broken, you can just park there.
  • Noodle: Which is basically going to lead to people getting to the ticket machine, seeing they've got no change, getting the baseball bat out of the back of their car...
  • 2-D: I've got no change but I do have a baseball bat?
  • Russel: What sort of impulse purchase is that? "Just a bar of chocolate, please. Hello, are those baseball bats you have there?"

Negan and his love

Summary: The reader is with an abusive husband and Negan saves her from him. He takes her back to the sanctuary and falls for her. But she is reluctant because of her last relationship.

Requested by @prettyepiic 

Warning: Abusive husband, Death (obviously it’s TWD), swearing and smut.

Negan x Reader

It had been almost a year since all this shit went down. But this so-called ‘shit’ wasn’t the worst of your problems, your husband was. You were currently walking through the woods and your husband was yelling at you for getting you both lost.

“Stupid fuck women” He was marching in front of you, your eyes followed his feet. He wasn’t that much taller than you and you were short. But he was broad and he could break you like a twig, not like he hasn’t tried too.

“I-I think were are l-lost again…” You mumbled and trailed off. He stopped and he put his back straight. You knew what was coming but you were just trying to help.

“Are you trying to say-” he stopped to turn around and face you. “THAT I…” He started to point at his chest “….HAVE GOT US…” He waved his hand up in the air at the word ‘us’ “…LOST?!” You remained quiet, knowing if you answered or didn’t answer you were in trouble either way. That’s when you closed your eyes hard and heard the crunching of the leafs under his boots getting louder and louder. You were so concentrated on how each footstep sounded, the first hit knocked you to the ground. You let out a cry holding onto your cheek and he hit you again making the back of your head hit the tree behind you.

From a distance, you thought you heard someone say ‘the fuck’ but you thought that was your imagination wishing for someone to come along and save you. Just as your husband was about to hit you again you saw a baseball bat hit the side of his ribs and he fell sideways onto the ground.

“You little fucker! Think it’s fun to beat women that can’t even overpower you.” He put the baseball bat down and kicked him repeatedly. “Does it make you feel strong? YOU FUCKING ASS, FUCKER!” he bent down to take his baseball bat to hit him again.

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I am trying to get back into the writing thing and today I was watching baseball and moved to write. So, yay! 

I mean, it’s nothing much, but it is something. So, have some quick, fluffy Darcy/Bucky, sort of baseball related fic. 

Thanks for being patient with me during this dreadful writing dry spell. I really appreciate it. 


Autumn was starting to creep into the city. The weather was still mostly warm and green, but there’d been a couple of blustery, rainy days, and a new little chill in the air in the mornings. Darcy wasn’t sure she’d ever quite get used to Fall starting in September, but, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Because, for real, east coast summers were the worst.

Bucky’s apartment was not the best place to spend a summer. There was no cross breeze, it got stuffy as hell, and had no central air or anything. A couple fans by the windows, and mostly they just pushed around the sticky, grimy air from the outside.

Today was one of those slightly blustery days, though, and there was a hint of cool and damp and a definite breeze that rattled his blinds. And the apartment was quiet, nobody constantly demanding her attention for this thing or that. She could maybe get some things done. Maybe. Truthfully, it was just nice to hang out quietly with him.

“I think the bar oughta be a Dodgers bar,” Bucky said decisively from his spot on the couch.

On the other side of the couch, curled up, her back to the arm rest, feet braced on his thigh, Darcy was spending her Saturday afternoon reluctantly reading reports from Phil. She didn’t even bother glare. “Over my dead body.”

“It’s my bar.”

“That I’m paying for.” Darcy glanced up from her work and considered the screen. “How about the Mets? I have no strong feelings, they’re local, and they’re not the Yankees.”

“I don’t know,” he grumbled. “What the hell’s a Met?”

“Metropolitans.” She rolled her eyes and nudged his knee with her foot. “Oh my God, don’t be like that.”

His lips lifted into a little smile and he shrugged. “I’ll consider it.”

Darcy braced her elbow on the back of the couch and set her chin in her hand, watching the game for a minute. “I know a guy on the Mets.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, know.” She shrugged. “His mom’s my lawyer, and his grandpa was my lawyer before that. We sort of knew each other as kids. Kind of. Like, Memorial Day cookouts at his grandpa’s house kind of thing.”

Bucky jerked his chin at the tv. “He playing?”

She squinted at the field and counted the numbers. “I don’t see him. I think he’s mostly a bench guy this year. Second base, some shortstop. Good defense, quick on his feet. So-so hitter. Though, he had a good year in triple-A last year. Rick Carmine.”

“I’ll look out for him,” Bucky said and turned his attention back to the game. “Miami Marlins. Sounds like a double-A team,” he grumbled and fell silent for a long moment. “That guy needs a haircut. His hair’s longer than yours.”

“Says you, Mr. Lucious Locks down to your manly shoulders,” Darcy laughed, with a roll of her eyes, turning her own attention back to her tablet. So, okay, it wasn’t entirely quiet at Bucky’s, especially when he was in a ‘kids these days’ mood. Hilarious as that usually was. “Besides, baseball — it’s a long season, what else are they going to do other than grow weirdass beards and bad mullets? Not that there’s a good mullet.”

He let out a long breath through his nose. “I don’t like the long pants, either.”

Darcy stared at him for a second, looked at the screen, then back at him. “Are they playing baseball?”

“More or less.”

Exasperated, she waved a hand at him, the tv, the universe. “Then, just, whatever, okay?”

He snorted and slumped down on the couch, kicking up his feet onto his coffee table. “Okay, so if some guys have their pants long, and other guys have their socks high, I’ll pretend I don’t mind. But, if the socks are high, shouldn’t they all be the same? It’s a uniform. How come that guy’s got stripes on his socks, and that guy’s are just black? They’re on the same team, it oughta look the same.”

Darcy rubbed at her forehead and tried to pretend she was focusing on blackmarket weapon sales in Ukraine, and not her partner’s old man griping. “Let me get you the commissioner’s email. You can send him a letter.”

“Yeah, I’ll send him a letter,” he said, his tone dark with menace.

Darcy nudged his leg again. “Why are you all grumpy cat? You’ve been watching games all season.”

“Yeah, but by myself mostly.” He gave her a sad little look, like she’d abandoned him through the baseball season. “A couple times with Barton.”

“But you don’t bitch to Barton.” Aww, he wanted to save his bitching for when she could hear it. That was both annoying and sweet.

“I don’t know. I guess not.” Bucky watched the game and then slapped his hand on his thigh. “Where the hell was that pitch, ump? Geez. That was right across the letters. Ball, what a crock.”

Darcy laughed at his outrage. It was so normal, and those moments where he was just a regular guy were always such delight. “I’m pretty sure the proper nickname for every baseball umpire is 'bum’. So, like, that was a lousy call, you bum.”

“I agree. And he is a bum. Look at that strike zone. Or don’t, because I can’t tell where the hell it is.” He pointed at the TV. “I like the strike zone box they put up on the screen. Bet the umps don’t.”

“Some people want robo-umps,” she informed him. “I’m on the fence. I don’t entirely hate that, you know, each ump can have his own sort of unique strike zone, but that’s only okay so long as they’re consistent, you know.”

“Robo-ump?”

“Basically that strike zone box. A computer would call balls and strikes. I don’t know. I still like the human element. And you get to yell at the bums, which is part of the fun. Some people, though…”

He kept his face pointed at the TV, but his eyes slid over to her. “Yeah, well some people like the DH.”

Darcy scowled at him. “I am not arguing about the DH with you. Again.”

“Ruining the game,” he said, his voice rising.

“Oh my God, shut up about the DH.”

Bucky slapped his metal fist in his palm and glowered at the world. “Glad I was on the ice when it was instituted or I woulda burned the league down.”

“For real, stop.”

“What a waste of the bench,” he barked, his voice heating and he was waving his hands at the TV. “So, you carry an extra guy who’s only job is to—” Darcy lurched up and lunged at him, clapping her hand across his mouth.

“No,” she said, begging, demanding, insisting, pleading. “You’re a National League guy, it’s fine, I accept it. I like you for who you are, this critical personality flaw included. But, please, no more.”

They stared each other down for a long moment before he finally nodded and she let him go. She sat back cautiously, watching him warily like he might start in again.

There’d been a very, very long flight from Argentina where he talked about the designated hitter rule the whole time. She’d been tempted to jump out of the quinjet, except her suit’s arc reactor was offline and she was having a hard time getting it back. Even then, though, she was still tempted to jump. She worked great under pressure, and nothing beat the pressure of gravity and a quickly approaching planet.

He turned his attention back to the game. “Mets are okay, I guess. For the bar, I mean.”

“Good, great,” she told him, relieved to have escaped that dangerous, dangerous DH moment.

“But, I don’t want a bunch of tvs in the bar,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “Most places, they’ve always got 'em up too loud. I’m not going to the bar to have some sports jock shout at me while I’m trying to drink a beer.”

“A couple, just for games, turn them off the rest of the time.”

“'Kay.”

They were silent for a moment and then she laughed. “You’re like a million years old.”

“I like what I like,” he grumped. “I don’t like the DH, though, because it takes away from strategy—”

“NO!” She dropped her tablet listlessly onto her lap, threw her head back, and let her body go limp in utter and complete defeat. “Call Steve. You guys can go do your old fogey thing about it. Rarr, kids these days and their designated hitter. God. Leave me in peace,” she groaned, so much pain, so much anguish. Minor anguish, but still, shut up Bucky.

The room fell quiet after her cri de coeur, except for the quiet rumble of traffic, the voice of the play by play man, and Bucky’s laughter. The big asshole.

“Jerk,” she muttered and petulantly shoved at his leg with her foot.

“I love riling you up.”

“Biggest jerk.”

He let out an amused sigh and grabbed her foot before she could kick him again. “Okay, so the Dodgers are in LA. The Athletics are in Oakland. The Giants are in San Francisco. Weird.”

“The east coast needs to stop hoarding all the teams,” she shot back, her tone sour, still annoyed.

“I guess, or California will steal them all.” He gave her a look and then returned his attention to the game. “Oh, and the Braves are in Atlanta. And I don’t know what happened to the Senators except now they’re the Nationals?”

“I think they’re the Twins now, and the Nationals moved from Montreal.”

His brows drew down in a confused frown. “Montreal. Canada?”

Darcy shrugged and picked up her tablet again. Work was not really getting done, but she could try to pretend. “Toronto Blue Jays.”

“I can’t keep up with all this.”

“Don’t try to see the then, live with the now,” she advised.

“What?”

“Half the league are teams after your day. Just, you know, embrace the league as it is now.”

“Except the DH.”

“Mother fu—” Darcy thumped her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I walked into that one.”

“Yeah, you did,” he told her, sounding almost gleeful.

“See if I let you use the company seats at the ballpark of your choice. Ever,” she told him, glaring darkly.

“You’ve got seats at all the parks?”

“Ok, well, no, not really. The places we have major offices. For, you know, schmoozing clients, or rewarding employees, and like that. I’d have to check where all. But I’m pretty sure I  could get really awesome tickets anywhere. Not that I will for you. So, know what you’re missing and suffer. Nosebleed seats for you, buddy.”

Bucky snickered and rubbed a hand down her shin, squeezing her ankle lightly. “Yeah, 'cause I can’t buy my own tickets.”

“Boo to you,” she whined and huddled over her tablet. “Ruin every scrap of fun I have.”

He drew a meep of surprise from her when he pulled on her leg, drawing her down the couch. Flailing a little at the sudden move, she found herself flat on her back under a looming and impressive assassin. He had one hand braced on the back of the couch, and the other on the arm above her head. It was … a breathtaking view.

“Yep,” he said, smirking. “Ruining your fun, that’s me.”

Letting out a long breath, she poked at his chest; not hard, only just enough to appreciate the closeness and solidness of his pecs. He wasn’t the biggest guy she knew, but wow, he really knew how to work the upper body. And, she was free to grope at will. In a not creepy way. Hooray dating.

“You are in an interesting mood today,” she murmured, still examining his chest. The gray henley was really well fitting. And probably brought out the blue in his eyes, but she was focused elsewhere.

“Nobody’s shooting at us,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Nobody is torturing us.” Another kiss on the other side of her mouth. “Nobody is trying to blow us up.” His lips landed solidly on hers, but before she could make it a real kiss he drew back with a smile. “Nobody is—”

Her phone rang and he turned his head towards the device with a growl. A real, deep, animal growl. Darcy couldn’t help it, she laughed.

“Of course.” Grabbing his chin, she turned his face back to her and captured his lips with hers. She was getting her kiss, interruptions be damned. But, the phone kept ringing and it was Phil’s ringtone and there was only so long they could ignore the Director.

“I hate Coulson,” Bucky grumbled against her cheek. “I hate him a lot.”

“But, he’s such a big fan of yours.” She shoved at his chest, but regretfully this time it was less about feeling him up and more about moving him out of the way.

He didn’t move far, just slid to the side, squeezing between her and the back of the couch. Shoving his bristly chin against the side of her neck, he grumbled darkly, swearing in Russian, while she fumbled for the phone.

“This better be a planet-wide emergency, Phil,” Darcy greeted with a groan.

“I need you to go to Japan,” he greeted. “I’m sending you the file.”

“Bucky wants you to know that he hates you.”

“That’s too bad,” Phil said, his voice bland and unbothered by the fact that one of his childhood heroes hated him. “I’d like to do a video brief in half an hour.”

“You’re interrupting his baseball day,” Darcy pressed.

“Baseball lasts for a half the year. Did you know I played second in little league?”

“No.”

“Read the file, briefing in thirty.” Phil hung up and Darcy dropped her phone on the floor and patted the side of Bucky’s head.

“I hate him,” Bucky muttered.

“Me, too. Briefing in thirty.” She squirmed away from her partner and rubbed a hand over her eyes, trying to shake off the haze of 'attractive man and his kissing and attractiveness and such’. “I think we need to sweep your apartment for cameras.”

“Why?” Bucky shoved himself up and flopped back over to his side of the couch.

“His timing is too … suspicious.” She glared up at a likely corner of the room. “I bet he’s colluding with my dad.”

“I think you’re paranoid.”

“Is it paranoid when we work for a spy agency? And my dad is a big nosy, nudnik?”

“Probably,” he said with a dry chuckle. “So, briefing? Where are we going?”

Darcy glared sourly and pulled her tablet out from where it got stuck between the couch cushions. “Japan.”

“Sounds fun. I like Japan.”

Darcy closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “And now you’ve cursed it.”

So much for a quiet Saturday. Boo.

Badge Arcade shows Nintendo’s accidental mastery of free-to-play ⊟ 

I don’t really like crane games. I once worked in an arcade, and one of my main duties was opening the crane machine every time a toy got stuck to the crane, then giving the toy to the kid anyway, because who cares.

I also don’t care about decorating my 3DS. Despite occasionally declaring a theme worth purchasing, I have yet to take the step of actually paying money for a 3DS theme. My home screen is the most utilitarian tiny grid of icons possible. Any frivolous badges would only slow my launching of games.

And yet. And yet, I’ve been playing Nintendo Badge Arcade every day, eagerly awaiting my five free practice credits, hoping to unlock free plays on the real machines. I’ve been optimistically going for the most desirable badges and feeling real disappointment when I get another brick block.

I spent a dollar.

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Things I want from Suits

  • Harvey dealing with his old shoulder injury
  • Donna’s family/backstory/something other than Harvey
  • Jessica and Harvey bonding and being each other’s family
  • More of Mike’s backstory (because trevor doesn’t cut it)
  • Rachel getting some goddamn respect
  • Louis getting some goddamned respect (and not ruining everything)
  • Harvey’s Mother turning up
  • Harvey forgiving his mother
  • Mike having actual friends
  • The Batman and Robin dynamic making an actual comeback
  • Harvey playing baseball
  • MARCUS SPECTER
  • marcus and harvey playing music together
  • some sort of holiday, be it christmas, or thanksgiving, or st patty’s day just something
  • harvey taking mike boxing
  • harvey being a goddamn geek for more than one line
  • firefly cast reunion
  • no one dying, no one having a heartattack, no one getting arrested
  • everyone being a goddamn happy family for one fuckign season
charles edgar danes

28 yrs / unemployed-ish / werewolf

biography:

  • one of the 90 danes children running around!! mother, father, big sis, little sis
  • poor papa danes was in way over his head so brady was kind of charlies drill sergeant from the beginning <3
  • tbh it’s kind of miracle charlie didn’t end up in military school but it was probably a hot topic in the danes household for yeaRs
  • it’s not that he was a bad kid he just had/still has the attention span of a goldfish
  • it wasn’t until he got into baseball charlie sort of settled down…a little
  • after school activities no longer consisted of throwing flaming bags of dog poop on doors but batting practice??
  • turns out he had a gift for the sport which actually allowed him to attend college?? brady actually criEd???
  • and so charlie went off and spent four years in florida where he played baseball and to everyone surprise got a degree in chemistry
  • after four years away he was just a little home sick so back to crescent hollows he went!
  • since then has been working a series of odd jobs around town and using his chem degree to conduct a series of pointless ~experiments at home (aka the back of larry talbots but brady doesn’t knoW)
  • someone me and this help his man

personality:

  • + …can do a set of five pushups
  • - AN IDIOT
Baseball!Klaine? Baseball!Klaine.

I just sort of… put my fingers on the keyboard and this happened. Might add more at some point. We’ll see.

Oh, rated M for Klaine get friendly with each other’s butts. Duh.

            "Hummel! My office now.“

            His foot slipped on the rubber, his pitch sailing past Mark into the backstop. Kurt hopped back and nearly fell on his butt as Coach Sylvester roared across the field at him once more.

            "Move it, Porcelain! You’ve got a plane to catch.”

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