boarded up windows

anonymous asked:

Where do you live in the US? Would you let a little on here come to visit you or if they were in town would you have dinner or tea with them? ✨

MISTER 101 - Transparency in effect

This has been a rather interesting topic in therapy lately…  anyone who has been around here long enough knows the struggles I face with my anxiety, agoraphobia and paranoia complex. And its a real shame that when someone who doesnt know better hears “agoraphobia” and thinks that youre some kind of unabomber type, held up in a cabin with the windows boarded up.

thats simply not true. 

it comes in all forms.. and mine is acute, mainly dealing with overcrowded places, situations I cannot control, things that are unfamiliar to me, being surrounded by people, etc… I go places (certain places) at least, just fine.

My new therapist has been working above and beyond his means to both help me and get to a point where I wont need him anymore. Thats the goal, as its always been.

A hot topic lately is me “getting back out there”

Its been a long time since I have been able to truly be myself, (years) with a little or sub, etc. years since i have been touched in an intimate way that wasnt a condolence over death or simple family expressions. Years since I have stood in front of someone with my belt wrapped in my hands, or rope.. or even just the feeling of being dominant over someone who willingly gave their submission to me.

And as such, and in order to see the limits to which I could get to.. my therapist did a cognitive regression test kind of thing on me. He is convinced that if I could find someone within the lifestyle who I can relate to, meet and perhaps even engage in scene with… it may do a number of things, including triggering me back to a time before the issues took hold and maybe even waking that part of me back up enough to keep me there and essentially…”cure” me.

Now, these are long term goals… but recently ive been working hard on the baby steps so to speak. 

baby steps that would bring me to a place where I could actually leave the safe zone around my house, venture out to somewhere, and meet with someone… even if for an hour at the least… and I think I am ready for that. 

So to answer your question... yes, I would. but that person would need to be incredibly patient with me, understand my limits… and also understand that I may be able to stay an hour.. I may only be able to stay a few minutes. It may be in a park, and it may need to be in a hotel room. Noone is allowed in my house, and in the last handful of years only my therapist and brother have been allowed in for short amounts of time. Otherwise, its been… emergency situations.

I dont even get my mail here. I dont even keep my ringer on… my groceries get delivered and left on my porch. Its all incredibly taxing… its all incredibly complicated. 

So appropriations must be made… 

Whether its just a cup of coffee or waxing philosophy… it would be a great pleasure to meet with someone who I could truly be myself with… but the road to getting there isnt just a hop and a skip, its a journey… and one that some days i feel absolutely ready for, and others I feel like running away from.

Consider this:

Shivaay Singh Oberoi is an ASR knockoff inspired by Arnav SIngh Raizada.

Arnav was kidnapped by Shyam and kept in a warehouse by Rocky, who was honestly a pretty pathetic kidnapper when all things are considered.

If Sobti is playing Shivaay’s kidnapper, having already played another Angry Young Man for 4Lions who was kidnapped in his own show, the situation has the potential to be hilarious.


Shivaay: “Well if I’d kidnapped you, I wouldn’t keep you in your house, just with all the lights off and windows boarded up, and all the furniture pushed to one side.”
ASR: “Yeah well, it’s a very well established technique in kidnapping rich, entitled, whiny brats.”
Shivaay: “Cos you would know.”

(Context: The ‘warehouse’ Arnav was kept in was actually just the Shantivan living room. He never left home. From the liveblogs @tellywoodtrash does, I gather Shivaay is also just chilling at home?)

ASR: “You’re not diabetic are you?”
Shivaay: “No. Why?”
ASR: “You could pretend to be fainting and then I’d have to leave you unsupervised to get you medicine.”
Shivaay: “Actually, yeah. I’z diabetic.”

Wait wait hold up a minute here.

We’ve got Gang AU’s because of the bbs in GTA but.. where’s the AU for Bryce, Ohmwrecker, Cartoonz and Delirious for Rainbow Siege? XD I’d love to see an AU of them being like badass swat guys who go around rescuing people, stealing them back, and doing all kinds of cool CIA shit where half the time you can’t tell if they’re the good guys or the bad guys.

CIA au where Cartoonz is the sniper outside the downed aircraft while Bryce and Delirious play frontall distraction and Ohm tries to grab the hostage. Then they’re on the run from the terorists and trying to get this person back to a certain country, hiding out in some worn down buildings. Ripping up chairs and tables to board up the windows, throwing down traps outside open doorways.

Them doing all kinds of black-ops under undercover shit like, so deep you don’t know what they’re into.

What Was Left Behind

April 17th

School was cancelled today! Dunno what for, mom woke me up just to tell me not to bother getting up. Thanks, mom (not!). I’m pretty glad since school’s so far away I usually have to be up and ready to go when it’s still dark.  Price you pay for some fancy private school. Gonna spend the day playing Mario Kart. Mom said she was meeting dad. I wasn’t really listening but it’s weird, I’m sure dad had work today. Maybe they’re meeting for lunch or something? Sucks that she didn’t invite me then. Leftover mac'n'cheese it is then.


April 18th

School’s still closed. Guessing there’s probably some major repairs or something, never heard anything about a strike. Pretty weird. Though it could be the boiler. It’s always the boiler with stuff like this.

Hang on, can hear hammering downstairs.

Um… Dad’s boarding up all the windows? Didn’t ask him why, he didn’t seem to be in a good mood. There’s a crapton of shopping bags in the kitchen too, been there since yesterday. Dunno why Mom hasn’t unpacked them yet. Guess a bad storm’s coming.

Must be why school’s closed.

Keep reading

Regain Control - Jason Todd x Reader

Okay so before I accidentally kill all of you, here’s the happy ending (at least I think it’s happy. I’m not even sure if I know how to write happy anymore). Remember the first part of this is the same as Gun Control and No Control

Tagging: @speedypan @cait-writes-stuff @memento-scribet

Words: 1789

Moonlight streams through the boarded up windows of the abandoned warehouse you and Jason had been sent to investigate. It seemed that there was some suspicious energy emanating from the location, and even though nothing bad had come from it, the two of you had decided to check it out just in case. Besides. It’d been a slow week anyway.

Starting at the edge of the room, you investigate every inch of space for a source of the energy. There aren’t any false walls or trap doors. After cracking open a few crates, you decide there isn’t anything of concern. From the other side of the room you see that Jason has come to the same conclusion. You meet back up in the center to discuss your next course of action.

“I found nothing. How about you?” you put your hands on your hips and look up at Jason’s red helmet.

“I got nothing.” Jason puts his guns back in their holsters. “But something about this is bothering me. I just can’t place my finger on it.”

“Well, we can figure that out when we get back to the cave.” You rub your arms as if fighting off a chill, even though the air is warm. “Let’s go. This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

Jason nods in agreement. You both start walking toward the door. Just before you get to the door, Jason grabs your shoulder and pulls you back.

“Watch out!” He points to a trip line on the floor. You swear the wire wasn’t there when you checked the area earlier.

An echoing laughter bounces off the walls and meets your ears, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Klarion,” Jason mutters in your ear. It certainly explains the energy signatures reading from the area, but why is he here? You can feel Jason’s frustration as he scans the room for the Witch Boy. “What do you want, Klarion?”

“I just want to have a little fun. That’s all,” a bodiless voice speaks from what sounds like everywhere. A wisp of smoke draws your attention to a large stack of crates, and you focus on the form of Klarion and Teekl.

“Well we’re here to cut the fun times short.” Jason takes his guns out and prepares to fight.

“Awww, come on Red Hood. You used to be so fun, but now you’re just so boring.” Klarion floats above the crates and turns upside down as if he’s having a casual conversation with an old friend. “Never was able to predict how you’d react to a situation.”

“I’ve found my reason to fight.” Jason ever so slightly turns his head to you, and the knowledge that he’s referring to you stirs up the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hmmm,” Klarion spins right side up and narrows his eyes at you. “You want to fight? I’ll give you a reason to fight.” He cackles before he starts casting a spell. Jason raises his guns to shoot him before he can do anything, but Klarion is too fast. He sends a cloud of magic directly at you.

You try to move. Really you do. Every fiber of your body is screaming to get out of the way. But your limbs don’t listen. You watch helpless as the spell gets closer and closer.

But it never hits you.

At the last second Jason shoves you out of the way, absorbing the magic in your place. You stare with wide eyes as he hunches over and trembles, attempting to fight off whatever Klarion threw at you.

“Jay—Red Hood? Are you okay?” you place a hand on his arm and the tremors immediately stop. He stands straight without saying a word.

“Well isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” Klarion giggles.

You would have mouthed off at the Witch Boy were Jason not distracting you. His entire body language is mechanical, and he’s staring directly in front of him as he walks toward you. Ever so slowly, he raises his gun.

“Jason, no!” You yell and shove his hand to redirect his aim away from you. It might have worked better had his reflexes not been so quick. While you managed to knock the gun out of his hand, he took advantage of your momentary contact to grab your wrist.

“What is wrong with you?!” He doesn’t respond. You try to rip your hand away but his grip tightens.

“Say something!” You need to see his face. There’s no way you can fully figure out what’s wrong with him as long as this helmet is on his head. You rip the hood off knowing that he wears a mask underneath for emergency situations. And this definitely qualifies as an emergency situation.

But the sight under the hood makes your blood run cold.

He looks completely normal. Except for the fact that his face is completely blank. There’s no life. No charm. He normally has at least a ghost of a smile when he looks at you. But there’s nothing.

It’s like he’s turned into a mindless zombie.

You stumble backward in shock.

“What have you done to him?!” you ask Klarion, who is floating in the rafters and cackling.

“Oh, nothing much. I’ve just taken over his mind for a bit. That’s all.” By the tone in Klarion’s voice, it’s apparent that he is having the time of his life. “He’s going to kill you. The last thing you’re going to see before you die is the face of your partner. Your murderer.”

“You bastard!” You shoot at Klarion. You spend the next several minutes trying to think of how to stop Klarion and avoiding Jason’s blows. You don’t have any ranged weapons to hit Klarion with, and if you fight Jason you risk hurting him.

But you were never much of a long term fighter, and your energy is dropping with every blow you counter. Jason catches you in a slow moment and throws his elbow down on your shoulder, sending you to the floor with a yelp of pain. While down you manage to hit your emergency alert. You need backup, and you need it fast.

When you roll over to look at Jason’s painfully blank face, it’s down the barrel of a gun.

“Jay,” you whimper. You don’t even care that Klarion’s still here. The only way you have a chance of getting him back is by calling him by his name. “Jay, baby. Please. Please come back to me. I—I don’t care if you kill me, but do it as yourself.” Tears you didn’t know were there start welling up in your eyes.

“Remember me. Remember your family. Please let me see that beautiful smile one last time. Please, Jay. I love you.”

Jason doesn’t respond. He continues to stare blankly down at you. You expected him to have pulled the trigger by now. He should have if Klarion is controlling him.

That’s when you notice that the gun is trembling in Jason’s usually steady hand.

“NO NO NO!” Klarion whines. “KILL HER!”

Jason’s hand steadies.

You close your eyes to accept your fate.

When the gun goes of you don’t feel anything.

You hear an animalistic cry of pain, and you open your eyes to see that Jason has turned to face where Klarion and Teekl had been, his gun pointing at now empty space.

“This isn’t over Red Hood!” Klarion’s voice echoes off the walls, and as much as you should be concerned that Klarion now has a grudge to hold against the two of you, you can’t help but sigh in relief that he’s gone.

Sudden exhaustion washes over you, and you collapse onto the floor and start crying. Tears of relief that you’ve both survived this encounter. Tears of fear at the thought of what almost was.

“Y/N?! Are you okay?!” Jason is suddenly beside you. He’s taken off his other mask, and, even though his expression of concern hurts your heart, it’s the most relieving thing you’ve ever seen.

“Yes, Jay.” You sit up and take your mask off. In one swift motion you throw your arms around his shoulders and force your lips against his. He stiffens up at the initial shock, but eventually gives in and kisses you back. You rest your forehead against his and stare into his blue eyes. “In fact I don’t think I could be better.”

“I am so sorry, Y/N.” Jason wipes a tear from your cheek. “I should have broken free sooner.”

“You weren’t in control of yourself, Jason. But now you’re back, and we’re safe.” You break your stare and look at a crate, suddenly nervous at what you’re about to say. Something you’ve been meaning to tell him but just couldn’t find the words. “All three of us are safe.”

“All… three of us?” Jason looks at you in confusion, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “Y/N, you don’t mean…”

“Yes,” you nod before looking at him. “I’m pregnant, Jason. You’re going to be a father.”

“I can’t believe this,” Jason mutters with wide eyes. Fear rises in your stomach that he’s going to reject you. That he’ll be upset that you’re pregnant. “I mean, I’m going to be a father. But, Y/N, if I had pulled the trigger… if I hadn’t regained control…”

“That doesn’t matter now.” You place your hands on either side of his face so that he looks at you. “What matters is that you did regain control of yourself. Because you’re strong, Jason.”

“It wasn’t because of me. It was because of you. Because you fought for me. You brought me back, Y/N. And I’m so, so glad you did.” He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you relax into him.

“I still can’t believe it.” He mutters in your ear. “I’m going to be a father.”

“You’d better believe it, Jaybird.” You giggle, and he places a hand over your belly.

“I… I never thought about being a father. I never really had a good example.” He says with fear in his eyes. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“Jason Peter Todd. Don’t you dare think that you won’t be an amazing father. Because you will be.” You smile at him.

“If I am it will only be because you’re such an amazing woman. You brought me back into the light, Y/N. I can never repay you for that.”

“Your love is all the payment I need, Jason.”

“I small price considering I get your love in return.” Jason smiles, and you see calm slowly wash over his features once again.

“Now come on,” you stand up and pull Jason with you. “Let’s go get some froyo and talk about baby names.”

New recruit part 2

word count: 907

warnings: swearing

notes: you guys really seemed to like the last one so here’s another! ao3 here and last part here

Cautiously entering the decrepit building Cartoonz took note of the hastily boarded up windows. It was a poorly done job, but he couldn’t really complain since they were covered enough that they wouldn’t easily be spotted from outside. Glancing around the dirty entryway he signaled the other two forward. As they started a sweeping search of the building Cartoonz locked and bolted the old door shut, more to give them a warning when someone came in than to actually keep anyone out. Making his way towards the other two he followed them as they cleared each room, taking in the buildings current layout and defenses.

Reaching the final room that contained their objective Cartoonz opened the door and was immediately greeted by the end of a gun. Unfazed Cartoonz took one hand off his own weapon, extending it to the new guy. “I’m Cartoonz, and you must be Bryce?”

Lowering his weapon as the other two entered the room Bryce took the offered hand and shook it. “Yep that’s me! Nice to meet you guys.” He sounded far more cheerful than someone covered in body armor should. As the other two came up beside him, he realized that Bryce was significantly taller than all three of them.

Seemingly taking it upon himself to continue introductions Bryce next moved on to shake Ohms hand. But instead of introducing himself Ohm just blurted out “Tall.” Seemingly mortified he froze in the middle of shaking Bryce’s hand, but didn’t let go. “I mean, you’re tall I’m Bryce.” Ohm just turned redder and redder as he heard the other two start cracking up. Pausing for a moment he closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he tried again. “Oh for fucks sake, I meant I’m Ohm!” Bryce just smiled and shook his hand again, seeming to take it all in stride while the other two were dying of laughter.

Delirious was laughing so hard he was bent in half, clutching his stomach in pain. Unable to stop laughing he just held out a hand to Bryce, having to reach up a bit from his hunched over position. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that you’re Delirious?” Delirious just nodded his head to answer Bryce’s question, still wheezing too hard to speak.

Wiping some tears from his eyes Cartoonz struggled to put on a serious expression. “Alright guys, so what did you bring this time?”

Bryce was the first to move, swinging a large bag off of his shoulder. Cartoonz hadn’t really paid it much attention in all the commotion earlier. He let out an impressed whistle as Bryce unzipped the bag, revealing an interior that was filled with several different pieces of body armor. Bryce set the bag down in between them all so the others could grab some of the armor.

“Also since I arrived a bit before you guys I set up some cameras in and around the building and put up reinforce walls in this room, although I didn’t have quite enough.” Bryce said with a sweeping gesture toward the slightly shiny sections of wall that contrasted with rest of the grimy room.

“Nice Bryce.” Cartoonz said, watching him beam at the praise. “Now what did you two shit heads bring?”

Instead of replying Delirious just chucked the bag he had at Cartoonz. Easily catching it he opened it, and seeing what was inside he turned and glared at Delirious. “Why the hell would you throw a bag full of explosives at me??? Go set this tripwire shit up!” he yelled, throwing the bag back at him. Ignoring Delirious cackling as he left he turned towards Ohm and raised an eyebrow.

“Bear traps.” He said shaking his own bag. He still seemed kind of subdued from his earlier embarrassment.

“Good shit, just make sure you don’t set them up in the same places Delirious put his.”

“Yes ‘mom’.”

Cartoonz flipped him off as he left the room. Seeing Bryce waiting for his directions he let out a tired sigh and rubbed at his eyes. He waved Bryce over as he walked to the rooms windows. “Help me pull these boards off so I can put an armored panel on instead.”

With the two of them it only took a minute to pull off the boards and press the armor panel into place, easily digging them deep into the old frames of the windows. He looked over to see Bryce watching him expectantly again. Recalling what he had read in Bryce’s file he decided to play on his strengths. “Okay Bryce you’re going to stay in here watching the cameras and guarding this. Let us know if you see anything.” He said, about to leave the room before he had an after thought. “Also I’m not sure if they told you this but that’s bio-hazardous material” he jerked a thumb at the large container in the middle of the room next to Bryce. “So you might not wanna be that close to it. Hopefully they’ll find something to transport this in before any trouble shows up. But we both know that’s unlikely.”

Moving towards him and away from the bio-hazard Bryce nodded in agreement with what he said. The siege teams were never sent in unless they were there to fight. With that all done Cartoonz smiled and clapped Bryce on the shoulder before walking out of the room. “Welcome to the team Bryce.”


The black liberation group MOVE was founded in 1972 by John Africa (born Vincent Leaphart). Living communally in a house in West Philadelphia, members of MOVE all changed their surnames to Africa, shunned modern technology and materialism, and preached support of animal rights, revolution and a return to nature.

Their first conflict with law enforcement occurred in 1978, when police tried to evict them from their house. A firefight erupted, killing one police officer and injuring several more on both sides.

Nine members of the group were sentenced to 100 years in prison for the officer’s killing. In 1981, the group moved to a row house on Osage Avenue.

At their new headquarters, MOVE members boarded up the windows, built a fortified rooftop bunker and broadcasted profanity-laced political lectures with bullhorns at all hours, drawing complaints from neighbors. Members continued to rack up violations from contempt of court to illegal possession of firearms, to the point where they were considered a terrorist organization by the mayor and police commissioner.

On the morning of May 13, 1985, the police moved on the house.

Arriving with arrest warrants for four residents of the house, the police ordered them to come out peacefully. Before long, shooting began.

In response to gunfire from inside the house, more than 500 police officers discharged over 10,000 rounds of ammunition in 90 minutes. The house was hit with high-pressure firehoses and tear gas, but MOVE did not surrender.

Despite pleas for deescalation to the mayor from City Council President Joseph Coleman and State Senator Hardy Williams, Police Commissioner Gregore Sambor gave the order to bomb the house.

At 5:28 p.m., a satchel bomb composed of FBI-supplied C4 and Tovex TR2, a dynamite substitute, on a 45-second timer was dropped from a state police helicopter, detonating near the fortified pillbox on the roof of the house.

Within minutes, a fire had consumed the roof and begun to spread.

Firefighters, already fearful of being shot at by MOVE members, were told to let the fire burn.

The blaze raged out of control, spreading down the block of row houses and hopping the narrow streets.

By the time it was extinguished four hours later, 61 houses had been razed. Apart from a woman and 13-year-old boy who escaped when the fire started, everyone in the MOVE house was dead.

The 11 deaths included MOVE founder John Africa, five adults and five children between the ages of seven and 13.

Despite investigations and formal apologies, neither the mayor, nor the police commissioner, nor anyone else from the city was criminally charged.

but when i shut down, i make sure i shut down good. i board up all the windows, lock every single door, barricade after barricade. i will make sure there is no way to get in. and when someone does, when they slip through the cracks and find the keys i left under the welcome home matt, i will run. because that’s what i do. i shut down, beg someone to come in, and then run at the sight of them because i fear every hand outstretched to me is the one i used to hold, the one i miss, the one that’s no longer in my reach. and so maybe they will follow, or maybe they don’t. but all i know is that i never know when to get close or when to back away so often times it takes so much time for me to come around because i am scared that no one is going to be able to figure me out.
—  but if you do, welcome home. i promise i am done running.
Divided- Part 3

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 1953

Summary: You come to in a strange apartment, face to face with the winter soldier. You navigate your way out, while gaining information from Steve’s old best friend

Authors Note: Ok I’m personally in love with this part because I love angsty brooding Bucky. Anyway, Part 4 will be following very shortly and it’s gonna be a fluff fest. Tagging is open, just ask

Divided: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

@imhereforbvcky @iamtal @nickel5socks @ohmygoshbucky @person0thats0not0a0people0person @spacegaystrashcompactor @shamvictoria11 @creideamhgradochas @captain-sassy-bum

You wake, a dull ache throbbing through your head as you become aware of a soft mattress beneath you. You shift slowly, feeling a blanket slide off your shoulder. You move to sit up, wincing as you put pressure on your freshly bandaged right hand.

You move into a sitting position, looking around the bare room, seeing nothing but empty walls. No pictures, no light, all the windows boarded up with cardboard and newspaper. You glance around, marking your exits, eyes finally falling on the dark silent figure situated at the kitchen table. Your body tenses as your gaze locks onto his blue eyes, he stares back at you, unmoving.

“Where am I?” You ask, your voice hoarse with lack of use. He stares at you silently, frozen. “You saved me, why?” Again your question is met with no response, the Winter Soldier remaining quiet and motionless, eyes locked on your face. You search your body, looking for any of your weapons, your com, anything. You come up short, realizing the figure in front of you had removed all your defenses.

“My com… I have to let my team know I’m alright. The Captain… Steve… he’ll be worried.” You see a flash of recognition cross his face at the name, but as fast as it had come, it was gone, his passive face staring at you once more. Steve had told you so many stories about his childhood best friend, James Buchannan Barnes, Bucky. How they had grown up together, how they had fought in the war together, protecting each other, side by side, until…

You remember that night when Steve confessed to you that his best friend had become the deadliest assassin in history. The Winter Soldier. You remember how he broke down, admitting his failure to you, that he was unable to fight his friend, unable to turn his back on him. Steve… you thought, always seeing the best in people. You glance down at the careful bandages wrapped around your hand… Maybe he wasn’t wrong… maybe there is humanity left in this attack dog.

“James,” you plead watching his shoulders tense at the name. “Don’t call me that.” He growls, eyes never moving from you. “Bucky?” you try tentatively, watching recognition flash across his face, he nods slightly, agreeing to the name “Bucky, I know you don’t want to hurt me.” Your voice is gentle, soft, far different from your usual sharp tone, “I need to get back to my team, please, I need my com.” You move forward from your position on the bed, coming to sit on the edge as he stares at you, his expression unchanging.

“I can’t do that. He can’t know that I’m here.” Bucky’s eyes finally fall from yours, dropping to the floor as he slowly shakes his head. “Steve? Why?” “He wouldn’t understand. Please.” His eyes dig into the ground, pain pulling at his expression. The pleading in his voice makes a lump rise in your throat.

“Bucky he misses you so much, he thinks he’s lost you, you have to tell him that you’re here. That you’re… that you’re you.” You speak quickly. “NO!” He shouts, rising swiftly to his feet and starting towards you, you retreat back on the mattress, drawing back in fear. Your scared action stops him, and he regains control, silently redirecting towards the small kitchen.

You relax your body, pulling yourself into a standing position, eyes cautiously locked on him as you move to the kitchen table. After many moments of silence, you decide that it’s safe to proceed in your quest for information. “Why did you bring me here?” You ask, your gaze unmoving from him. “I couldn’t just leave you. There were agents. It wasn’t safe.”

You sit silently, processing his words, confused by his desire to protect you. “Why were you there?” A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, a flash of the old Bucky that you had heard about barely visible in his demeanor. “It’s… complicated.” He breathes, coming to sit at the table across from you.

You raise your eyebrows, silently asking for more information. He sighs, leaning forward exasperatedly, “I’ve been watching you… Your team… His team.” You look at him, processing the new information, “You’ve been following us? Why?” He leans back, arms crossing across his chest, his muscles straining against the dark long sleeve shirt.

“Steve.” He answers simply. You think on his words for a moment, slowly realizing, “You’ve been protecting him? Watching his back?” He nods sharply. “Till the end of the line.” He whispers, barely audible. You shift uncomfortably not knowing how to respond, feeling intrusive in his moment. You rise from your seat, moving to his fridge, opening the door to rummage for something to eat.

His fridge is devoid of food, except for a soda can and a bottle of whiskey. “Jeez Buck, falling a little short of a balanced diet, don’t you think?” You joke, turning around to meet his shocked expression, confusion painted on his face at your comfortable interaction.

You smile awkwardly, rubbing at your neck nervously. “So… are you gonna let me get out of your hair anytime soon? I mean it’s nice hair, don’t get me wrong, but I can get pretty annoying.” You babble away, becoming more awkward by the moment, a small grin tugging at his cheeks.

“Are you ready to leave Scorpion?” He asks, rising to his feet and moving towards his dresser. “How do you… how do you know my name?” He turns around once more to face you, a black tie in his hand, as he shakes his head. “Your name? No. I know your alias, an alias is not who you are, not who any of us are.” You nod, thinking through his words, realizing that he was not only referring to you, but himself. “Y/N” you whisper, nodding curtly at him.

“Y/N,” he repeats back to you, moving forward and raising the black fabric in his hands, “are you ready to go? I’m sure your team is very worried.” You nod and swallow hard as you allow him to tie the fabric around your head, obscuring your vision. He helps you into a sweatshirt, zipping up the front and pulling the hood up over your head. You realize it must be his, the scent of the apartment heavy on the fabric, his scent. You took a deep breath memorizing the mix of cedar and fresh rain.

You feel the pressure of a strap pushed onto your shoulder, “Your weapons and com, everything I removed from you is in this bag.” You nod, moving your hand up to your shoulder to secure the strap’s placement. “Bucky?” You speak out to the darkness, his hand reaches for yours, fingers locking securely with your own. You feel a small knot form in your stomach in response to his warm touch. “I got you. Just follow me. I’m sorry. I just… I can’t have you finding your way back.”

You squeeze his hand as you begin to move from the small apartment, “I understand, I’ll keep your secret, you have my word.” You feel his fingers twitch against yours as he turns you out onto the street, the sounds of the city washing over you. You follow the pressure of his touch, paying attention to the turns you take, forming a visual map in your head.

After 10 minutes in darkness, you feel Bucky pull you to a stop, his thumb moving softly against your skin as he squeezes your hand once more. “This is where I leave you. Contact your team, have them come get you.” He says softly his fingers disconnecting from yours, “Bucky, I would have been dead if it wasn’t for you,” you start hands rising to remove the blindfold from your eyes, “I just want to say thank you…”

Your gratitude falls on deft ears as you stare at the blank space in front of you, people walking past you in the streets. You turn round rapidly searching for his form anywhere in the crowd, but he had already disappeared from site, gone.

You rummage in the bag on your shoulder, first pulling your scorpion knife, flipping it in your hand, your shoulders relaxing with the familiar comfort of the leather handle as it presses into your palm. You slip it back into its holster on your suit, and dive back into the bag, pulling out your com.

“This is Scorpion, calling into AC1. Is anyone there?” You speak into your com, hopeful for the control team’s response, instead you are met with the worried voice of Captain Rogers, “Y/N!! You’re alive! Are you alright? Where are you?” You smile sheepishly at Steve’s worried tone, tensing slightly, “I’m fine, I’m still in Bucharest, send a quinjet when you can, I’m sending coordinates now.”


“Y/N! Y/N! Open the door!” Steve shouts through your closed door, the wood buckling slightly under his harsh knocking. You yank the door open, an annoyed expression on your face. “What?” you huff, “What? You are taken captive, disappear for a days, have a hole in your hand, come back without a single word, and you stand here saying what?” You roll your eyes at him, annoyed at his berating.

“One I was not taken captive, two it was just one day Steve, three it’s bandaged and healing, and four why do you need a word, you knew I was coming back and that I was safe, what is the big deal?” “The big deal!? THE BIG DEAL!? I was scared to death that I lost you, Y/N!” You tense at his words, feeling uncomfortable by his intensity, it was just like Sam said, it had gotten out of hand once again.

“I can’t. I can’t do this Steve. It’s too much for me. Not right now.” Your eyes fall from him, shaking your head. “Y/N,” Steve’s voice softens as he reaches up to pull you into a hug, you resist him but eventually give in, knowing it is easier to let him find comfort in you than to fight it. “I’m sorry, I was just worried about you. I just felt responsible, like it was my fault. The Winter Soldier…” You pull away, arms wrapping around yourself.

“I know,” you say hollowly. “Did you talk to him? Bucky?” Steve asks hopefully. You look up at him, shaking your head, “No.” you say flatly, “As I told Maria, I lost consciousness during the mission and when I came to, I was in the middle of a busy street in Bucharest.” He nods, accepting your lie as truth. Believing you as he always had, trusting you.

You feel a lump rise in your throat, “Steve, I’m really tired, I just want to shower and go to bed ok?” You look up at him, begging him to understand. He nods sadly, aware of your lack of invitation. “Right. I’ll… I’ll check on you later.” He looks like a sad puppy, your heart hurts as you stare at his slouching posture, every bit of him resembling a defeated man. “Thank you” you whisper, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before retreating into your room once more, shutting the door on him.

You turn from the door, curling into yourself as you head for your bed, crawling once more onto the comfortable mattress. You zip up the oversized black hoodie wrapped around your torso, snuggling into the warm, soft fabric. You take a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent that clung to the fabric. Enjoying the small knot that forms in your stomach as you think back on your interaction with Bucky, your brain buzzing with questions.

Part 4

Merry Christmas from the Unremarkable House! 👽💕🎄

It was my Christmas wish to see Mulder & Scully’s house in the snow. Snow is actually quite rare in this part of Canada, so chalk this one up to a holiday miracle!

I hope these photos conjure visions of Mulder & Scully snuggling next to the fire. And you know Mulder chopped their Christmas tree down right from their own damn lot, that he looked sexy af swinging that axe! 😏

Sending these pics along with a big thank you for everyone that makes this fandom great. I’m so glad to be a part of this awesome community of Philes on Tumblr. All my best wishes for a fantastic holiday season!

Happy Holidays, Tumblr!
xo Mel (& Mulder & Scully)

Imagine Dean singing you to sleep after he sees you having a nightmare

wordcount: 673

Request by: anon

pairing: dean x reader

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to get done, I blame it on school work (even though its cause I procrastinate so much oops!). Also at the time of uploading this I’m like 20 followers away from 1000 followers (thanks guys so much), if anyone has any suggestions for what I should do when I hit the big 1000 send me a message <3

You burst through the doors of the dimly lit, abandoned cabin. The only source of light peaked through cracks in between the boarded up windows.

You clutched your knife closer to your chest as you carefully stepped through hallways being cautious not to make a sound.

You neared the eerie door at the end of the corridor. Slowly, you leaned your hand against the wood applying slight pressure to push it open. A creaking noise came from the door loudly filling the once deadly silent house. You cursed knowing that whatever was in the house with you definitely heard you.

Not a second later you felt a sharp pain in your head as something from behind you grabbed your hair and began dragging you away.

You screamed thrashing around, trying to grab onto anything but it all seemed to be moving slightly out of your reach. You knew you were going to die, that there was no way out. You were never afraid of death, but it’s completely different when it’s actually happening to you. Tears rolled down your face, staining your cheeks.

Eventually, you got flung forward into a chair and came face to face with your killer.

Shock overtook your body as you looked up to see your boyfriend, Dean Winchester.

“Dean?” you asked with a hoarse whisper.

You looked up into your boyfriend’s eyes and he looked directly in yours. Fear flowed through your body as his eyes turned completely black and he started walking towards you.

You tried to jump out of the chair but it was no use. It was like an invisible field kept you pinned to the chair.

When you looked back up, Dean had an axe in his hand, dragging along the floor behind him as he took steps to get closer to you.

You began to cry harder than you had ever cried before as you screamed for your boyfriend to come back to you.


Dean had just returned to the bunker from a hunt when he heard your screams. He shot his head up to his brother, fear covered his face. Almost instantly, he dropped the bags he was carrying and ran towards where the sound was coming from. His and Y/N’s bedroom.

Once Dean bust through your door, his fear calmed when he saw you was fine but it instead was replaced with concern as he saw you tossing and turning within the covers of your bed.

“Dean, no please,” he heard you murmur in your sleep. He walked over to the bed before getting in the covers with you and shaking your shoulders slightly to wake you up.

Gradually, you opened your eyes, still shaken from the vivid nightmare you had to see your boyfriend Dean next to you. On instinct you scooted away from him and you saw a look of hurt run through his face before it was once again masked with concern.

“Y/N. It’s me, you had a nightmare, it’s okay now,” Dean held his arms out and you climbed into them being comforted by his words. His hand stroked through your hair.

Silent sobs escaped your mouth as you cried into Dean’s chest.

“Hey, shhh Y/N, everythings okay. You need to get some sleep.” He whispered giving you a slight kiss to your forehead

You closed your eyes and not a second later Dean’s soft voice filled the room.

Hey Jude, don’t make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better

You hummed happily into his chest as you fell into a deep sleep without any nightmares knowing you was protected by Dean.

Hey Jude, don’t be afraid
You were made to go out and get her
The minute you let her under your skin
Then you begin to make it better…

Dean trailed off, falling asleep next to you knowing that for one of the first times in his miserable hunter life, he was happy.

♫Drown- Seafret// Marauders Era: Remus x Reader

Request:  Hey so I know you don’t have the time to write at the moment and I totally respect that, but I was wondering if you’d consider writing something with either Remus or Sirius (whichever inspires you most) based on Drown by Seafret when you have the time? Thank you so much! xx

The sun slowly rises, winning its fight with the glowing full moon, the lilac hues reaching further as the golden orb travels further up in the sky. Morning dew settles on leaves, its droplets sliding down the emerald backdrop. Birds begin chirping and bushes rustle as woken rabbits hop around the grounds.

A single, thin sliver of light slips through the boarded up windows of the small shack, falling on a pair of closed eyes, prompting them to flutter open, revealing light brown eyes under squinting eyelids and furrowed brows. The boy pushes himself to a sitting position, the fresh wounds on his chest exposed to the sunlight. He grabs a white shirt from the worn hardwood floor, pulling it on over his bruised arms, buttoning it only halfway before standing and flinching slightly as he feels a shooting pain in his leg. He limps over to the frayed door and opens it with a loud creak, leaving only depleted furniture and the lonely ray of sunshine in the gloom of the Shrieking Shack.

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Wounds - Part Three

You can find the other parts of this story and my Masterlist HERE!

Synopsis: You and Negan sit down and chat about one another’s situations and things heat up

Ships: Negan x Reader
Words: 1,881
Warnings: Curses, smutty stuff

You were sat at the small circular table which was covered with a red and white patterned tablecloth which was peppered with holes, curtsy of the mice that now infested the lodge. Before you sat a can of warmed soup, you hadn’t bothered too put it in a chipped, dusty bowl.

You had boarded up all the windows so no orange light from the small, sweetly scented candle would attract the dead.

Opposite you with a matching can of soup was the man you had saved; his greased back hair wasn’t as precise as you had seen it as a few wayward strands of hair fell in front of his face. He licked his lips as he looked at the canned soup that you had so kindly prepared for him.

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Can we talk about Bobby’s house?

Here’s the Singer house in Dream a Little Dream. This is the memory of his home the day Karen died. (gif credit)

It’s so bright and clean, like the sort of picturesque thing you’d see in Southern Living Magazine. And look at those flowers! It would be easy to say the flowers were all Karen, but I don’t think so. I garden in my tiny yard, and that is a team effort. (It’s also possible the house didn’t look this good, but it’s how Bobby remembers it when he thinks of her.)

Now let’s look at the house decades after Karen’s death (gif credit)

The paint is peeling, the windows boarded up. The junk yard (which he had when he was married) has crept closer to the house. We can’t see the front yard, but I bet there aren’t any flowers.

By his own confession, the only thing that kept Bobby from caving in on himself was the Winchester boys.


It’s that time once again, folks! The human epidemic is upon us! That’s right, lock your doors! Board up your windows! Don’t click suspicious looking video links in e-mails! Don’t watch any odd VHS tapes! And whatever you do, don’t let them in! We head over to our Reporter in the field, Joe!

“…” Joe, buddy, why aren’t you answering? “Hi diddly ho, neighbor! Care for some coffee? Food that isn’t magic? A knife in the back? How about some sugar?” Oh no…they’ve gotten Joe! Take this as a warning, everyone! Don’t become infected by a human!
*Cut to static*

813 Month Day 11 - Warm (word from apawstatemage)

The night went by at a sluggish pace, but without any noise either, to Axel’s relief. He turned his head towards the boarded up windows and squinted, trying to check if there were any unusually quiet stragglers wandering around nearby. Through the blue hue of the moon streaming in, he couldn’t see anything but the silhouettes of lampposts and the flickering, rotating sign of the abandoned gas station across the street.

Axel breathed a sigh of relief. That sign would at least draw the attention of any wandering Infected like moths to a beacon, leaving Axel and his partner to sneak out the back. Still, it was still a big risk to set up a fire, and Axel had debated for a while whether or not he should. If the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate, but now that the only other person with him had a useless fighting arm, he was definitely not keen on setting up a flickering target inside a ransacked home improvement store. It was not until he saw Roxas shiver in his damp sweater did he immediately make the decision to gather a bucket and scraps to burn. The nights have gotten colder in the last few days, and getting caught in the rain just hours before didn’t help their plight. The fire blanket he scavenged felt like a gift from whichever remaining, merciful god that stuck around in this Hellhole.

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