brick ring

Savior (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Request: Richie X Reader where the reader is 2 years older than the Losers, and one day she sees Henry and his goons beating Richie up, so she steps in and stops them, then Richie falls head over heels for her but thinks she wouldn’t like him back because he’s younger than her. Sorry if it’s too long!


               Another kick to his side, Richie heaved harshly, feeling as though his insides might cave in if he wasn’t careful enough. It felt like at any second he would black out, and who knows what Henry and his gang of fucking assholes would do to him next. A soft groan escaped his lips as he was pressed farther up against the brick wall of the alley way. Maybe blacking out wouldn’t be that bad at this point?

“Hey, would you guys fuck off?” A strong voice echoed through the alley, bouncing off the bricks and ringing in Richies ears. The voice that was now echoing throughout his brain did not seem like the kind that would be saying such harsh words, and he squinted slightly to see who the voice was coming from, his glasses having been thrown somewhere on the ground, currently out of his reach. The silhouette of a girl came towards them, that same girl pulling Henry by his shoulder. “Leave the kid alone. Don’t you have a circle jerk to attend, assholes?” She spat, standing in front of Richie’s body, guarding him from further abuse. Richie could hear angry words being exchanged, but he was too close to passing out that he couldn’t make sense of them. All he could make sense of was when the girl knelt beside him, pushing sticky stands of matted hair from his forehead, giving a small smile when his eyes met hers.

“Are you okay?” Her soft voice asked, her eyes scanning his body to make sure nothing on him was broken. Richie nodded slowly, leaning up on his elbows before pushing into a sitting position, leaning against the wall of the building next to him.

“Do you see a pair of glasses anywhere?” Richie asked her, his voice sounding broken and gentle. The girl looked around before standing, walking back to the opening of the alley. Richie watched her with squinted eyes as she bent over, picking up his slightly bent glasses from the concrete and coming back to him. She knelt next to his legs, pushing the glasses onto his face and smiling at him as he blinked, looking back up at her. “Thank you…” He whispered out. For the first time he didn’t feel like he could crack a joke, or even smile. His body was aching and sore, and all he wanted to do was go home, but he knew that if he tried going alone he would end up passing out somewhere along the way. He took in a deep breath, looking up at the girl slowly.

“Do…you need me to walk you home?” She asked, as if reading him mind. Richie nodded slowly in response, everything he could do, slow. The girl stood and held her hand out, offering it to him to help him stand. He took it carefully, letting her pull him to his feet. He was about the same height as her, maybe an inch taller, his eyes meeting with hers also perfectly.

On the way to Richie’s house, they talked in quiet voice. She told him her name was YN, and she was currently a senior in high school. Richie looked down at his feet when she said this, a small pain hitting his chest and he wasn’t sure why. He was currently a sophomore at 16, not that much younger than she was now, but for some reason it seemed to bother him more than it normally would have. He couldn’t help but think that the girl that walked next to him was, in her own way, beautiful in his eyes. The closer they got to his house, the more he wished that he lived farther down the road, just so that he would be able to talk to her for a little bit longer. If Richie could hear her voice next to him for just a few more seconds, everything would be fine. Stepping onto the sidewalk that led to Richie’s front door, he finally gave her a small smile.

“Thanks…for bringing me back. And for sticking up for me.” Richie told her. YN smiled back, pulling him towards her for a hug, before turning to walk back down the street to go home.

“No problem, Richie. Don’t be a stranger.” She responded, waving to him over her shoulder before walking away. Richie stood watching her until she turned the corner, out of his sight. He bit his lower lip, wishing he was just a little bit cooler. Maybe then she would like him? He shook his head before walking up to his house, not knowing how he was feeling anymore.

Camp Velaris ~ Chapter one

Being sent to a summer camp full of rich kids to work as a councillor is the worst thing ever, according to Feyre Archeron, At least until she meets a certain violet eyed councillor and his friends.

Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten

So this was it.

Camp Velaris.

Home for the next three months. 

It’s bigger than I expected. Huge, actually. Four brick buildings ring around a courtyard area with picnic tables dotted here and there. An opulent blue lake shimmers behind the parking lot, where my father has just parked the van. Over the roofs of the buildings I can see rock climbing walls, abseiling towers and zip lines stretching through the skies. Well, this was certainly not a half-rate summer camp. It was a place for rich parents to dump their trust fund kids while they went on a luxury cruise. Not that I was bitter or anything,

Okay, maybe a bit.

“Well, Feyre, what do you think?”

My father’s voice snapped through my daydreaming, and I twisted around to face him.

“It’s very… grand.”

He chuckled, the sound almost as alien as the jet skis I could see on the edge of the lake. “You better get used to it, honey. I know it’s a lot different than what we’re used to.”

No shit.

“I better get going.” I said, starting to open the van door. “I don’t want to be late. First day and all.”

Obviously, I was not a trust fund girl getting dumped at a camp for the summer while my dad went on a wine tour of Europe, or some other rich people shit. I was the newest addition to the camp councillors of Camp Velaris. Yippee.

“At least let me help you sign in.”

“Really, dad, it’s fine. I’m a big girl now.”

Nineteen, in fact.

“I know. It’s just… You’re my little girl Feyre. I’m going to miss you.”

At this, I patted his shoulder reassuringly, trying to muster confidence myself.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. But if you need anything…”

“I won’t. No go. Enjoy yourself. But no drinking. And no boys!”

I rolled my eyes at him, incredulous. As if I would meet anyone here.

“Goodbye, dad. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

We gave each other an awkward one armed side hug. Not a lot of room in a tiny van. Not to mention the suitcase and backpack I somehow had balanced on my knees.

We said one less goodbye before I climbed out, trying the best I could to not drop all my luggage. Miraculously, I managed and, after one less wave, walked into the building I knew as the reception. According to the map I was given prior to my arrival.

The reception area is a medium sized room with wood panelled walls and a smooth linoleum floor. In the centre of the room is a large desk, with no visible papers or any other things you would usually find on a desk. A state of the art computer sits neatly in the desk and behind that is a woman who, despite rapidly tapping on her keyboard, her acrylic nails making the sound a thousand times louder, is having a rapid phone conversation. She still hasn’t noticed me.

I clear my throat and her head springs up. She hurriedly says goodbye to whoever was on the other end of the phone and smiles at me, propping her hands under her chin, somehow looking more organized and classy than I ever would.

“Yes, dear?”

“Um. I’m Feyre. Feyre Archeron?” Somehow it came out as a question. “I’m here for the councillor job.”

“Oh yes! Hold on a second, let me just check.” The woman, whose nametag I cannot read, begins tapping again on her keyboard. “You’re also helping out with our arts activities, yes?”

“Oh. Um, yeah.”

“If you could just sign here for me, dear.” She hands me a clipboard. I quickly sign the form, confirming that I am, in fact, Feyre Archeron, a nineteen year old art student from Ohio.

I hand it back, and she types a few more things out onto her computer.

“Welcome aboard, Feyre! I’m Alis, the head councillor-slash-secretary-slash-assistant manager at Camp Velaris.” She hands me another pack not unlike the one I received a few months ago when I first signed up for this job. “In here you’ll find all you need to know. Which room you’re in, what activities you’ll be helping with, a general schedule etc., etc.”

Alis also hands me a nametag, a pass and a pile t-shirt.

“This is you’re official pass. With it you can go anywhere in the camp. Try not to lose it, dear. You will also be expected to wear the shirt whenever you’re leading camp activities. Well, that’s all you need to know for now. Your roommates will inform you about the rest.”

“My roommates?” I had never been told about roommates.

“Yes. You’ll be sharing a room with a few other girls. I hope that’s okay.”

“No, it’s fine.” Just a little unexpected.

“You better get going, dear, or it’ll be time for dinner before you know it.”

“Goodbye, then. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I turned to leave, somewhat clumsily attempting to pick up my suitcase with full arms. I had reached the door when I hear Alis say,

“And Feyre?”

I half turned around, looking at her from over my shoulder.

“Welcome to the family, dear.”


My dorm was beautiful.

Certainly not what you’d expect from a summer camp. It wasn’t really even a dorm. It was more like a cabin. A million dollar cabin. There was only one flaw in this. Roommates. My experience with them hadn’t been a completely positive experience. And by roommates, I mean sisters. We were always bickering about who was hogging the mirror or who had stolen an outfit. The arguing had toned down since Nesta went to college, but fights still happened from time to time.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open a door with one shoulder.

To a completely empty dorm.

Well, not completely empty, obviously. On the bed in the right hand corner someone had obviously been there. Clothes were strewn around and on the bed, and several shoes lined the floor. On the opposite side of the room, the side nearest to the door, was another bed, meticulously made, with a black suitcase neatly pushed under the bed.

Which left me with the bed in the free corner of the room. I dumped my suitcase on top, too tired from the drive here to even think about unpacking. Besides, there was no rush. The kids didn’t arrive for another two days. I stretched, my muscles aching from the six hour drive in a cramped van. I also stank. Not the greatest first impression to give your new roommates.

Groaning, I stood up and walked towards the ensuite bathroom, a small room tucked away in a corner. After a hot -and relaxing- shower, I quickly dress in jeans and a sweater and pull my hair up into a messy bun. I’m just sitting back down onto my bed when the door swings open and a girl walks in.

I quickly stand up, not wanting to be too awkward.

“You must be Feyre!” She says excitedly.

“That’s me. And you must be…”

“Morrigan! Or Mor. Whatever! I’m just so excited to have a roommate who I don’t have to worry about murdering me in my sleep.”

Wait, what?

Instead of voicing my concern at a potential killer roommate, I stick out my hand. But instead of shaking it, she pulls me into a hug.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. I was helping the boys unpack.”

“It’s fine. And who are the boys?”

“Oh, just my cousin and our friends. You’ll meet them later. They’re also councillors.”

Okay, aside from a possible murderer as a roommate, I found I didn’t mind having people sharing a room with me that much. Well, I didn’t mind Morrigan that much. Sure, she was a little messy and loud, but she talked me through what Alis had missed.

I still hadn’t met Amren, the other roommate, yet, but Mor said she was hardly ever here.

“She has her own apartment somewhere. She won’t tell anyone where, but she sometimes stays here.”

“How many summers have you been working here for?” I asked as we began walking towards the canteen.

“Five. Ever since I turned sixteen. Me and Rhys, my cousin, came here before that as kids. I loved it so much I couldn’t resist working here.” She links my arm, tugging me towards what I assume must be the cafeteria. “Come on. I’m starving. And they always do an all you can eat before the kids come.”

An incredibly nice, and filling, dinner later, I am sat cross legged on my bed while Mor rifles through her suitcase.  She holds up two dresses to me.

“Which one? Or are dresses too formal for a bonfire?”

“The red one. And which bonfire?”

She shoots me an incredulous look before answering. “Alis didn’t tell you? Every year before camp starts all the councillors have a huge bonfire. Get to know the newbies. Well, that’s what we say. Everyone knows it’s a chance to get shitfaced.”

Sounds lovely.

“You’re coming though, right?” Mor asks me, going into the bathroom. “I mean, you have to. It’s the last time to do anything before it gets too crazy. Tomorrow’s all about getting ready for the kids.”

My uncertainty must have shown on my face, for Mor’s face turns pleading.

“Feyre. You have to come. You can meet my friends!”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll come. But this is peer pressure, you know.”

“You’ll thank me later, Fey. Trust me.”  

Birds and Bees

Here’s some dreamy clawshock (Darcy/Logan) for @dresupi and the end of summer. Honey, I hope it gives you the warm buzzies (see what i did there?) and any one else that needs some. <3<3<3

Rating: T for language

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/ Logan (Wolverine)

Words: 1957

“Don’t give me that look,” he said, leaning into the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, straining the sleeves of his flannel. “It’s not forever.”

Darcy tried to erase whatever look she’d been wearing. It was unconscious, really. Logan just snorted at her and stepped back into the cabin.

“Come and put your shit down,” he said.

It was nice, if she was being honest. It was quaint which was weird because in her experience Logan was…rough and if she had walked in to find, like, a store of canned food and two sleeping cots she would not have been surprised. But there was a couch and a wood burning stove and a coffee table with little cork coasters and a half finished beer. There were even curtains. Plain curtains that he’d probably gotten at the dollar store, but it wasn’t newspaper over the windows so Logan must really have been feeling at home.

“Running water and everything,” he said drily.

She realized he’d been watching her take in the space. (She could see a kitchen through a doorway and there was a nice little hall off to the left for the bedrooms and bathroom.)

“It’s nice. Thanks for taking me in,” she said.

“Figured the only way of keeping you out of trouble was putting you somewhere you can’t find any internet,” he said, and then he turned and left her for the kitchen. “Your room is on the left side of the hall. You want a beer?”

“Please,” she said.

Way to bring it home, Logan, she thought as she drifted down the hall. Jane was out of the country and Darcy, in her restlessness, had accidentally broken into the wrong end of the dark web. And by accidentally she just meant she wanted to do her part for the good of mankind, maybe? But when the whisperings about her turned into outright requests for someone to take care of one Darcy Lewis?? Well Tony, and Phil, and Jane at a distance, and pretty much anyone else that thought they had a vote in her life, decided it was high time to put her somewhere for safekeeping.

So yeah.

Welcome to Montana.

Keep reading

ivy on wet brick, sock rings around ankles, loose lips on tired arms, orange juice with pulp, sourdough appetizers, headlights on dark rainy pavement, pressed leaves in wax paper, tires like static on gravel

  • Bog: "Hey, Marianne?"
  • Marianne: "Yeah?"
  • Bog: "Where are ye?"
  • Marianne: "In the kitchen!"
  • Bog: *comes in* There ye are! Listen, I can't find my phone anywhere. Will ye call it fer me, please?"
  • Marianne: "Sure." *takes out her cell and dials Bog's phone*
  • Bog: "..."
  • Marianne: "..."
  • Bog: "..."
  • Marianne: "..."
  • Marianne: *deadpan* "Really?"
  • Bog: *grinning* "Yup!"
  • Marianne: "You're a dork." *leaves the room*
  • Bog: *sings and dances down the hall after her* "Ow, she's a brick house! Well put-together, everybody knows! This is how the story goes..."
Kissing the Gods

Zeus//stolen kisses in bars, you back pressing against brick, wedding rings left on tables, taking you back to his place, and stale smelling mornings

Poseidon//on the couch at a friends house, sand in your hair, salt on his lips, wishing this day could last forever, and the smell of sunscreen

Hades//kisses on your neck, the sweet smell of decay, pearly white teeth, soft lips, ready to die in his arms, and feeling too safe

Ares//bloody knuckles, pulling at his hair, scratches on your back, tight smiles, biting his lip, fading eyeliner, and leaving before he wakes up

Apollo//the smell of sunshine, blond hair in your eyes, kisses goodbye, a naughty smile, soft beds, and being outside

Dionysus//a little too drunk for your own good, sloppy kisses, wine, smiling instead of kissing, happiness, and the moment before evening becomes night

Hermes//making out in the back of his car, quick kisses on your cheek, a secret rendezvous, the smell of a long day, and the hours passing too quickly.

Hephaestus//oil and grime on his hands, the hum of machines, staying up too late, rough hands holding you gently, peaceful dawns, and not enough love.


. the dead anon poets society .


The earliest form of printing: Akkadian Stamp of the Builder of the Temple of Ishtar,  Naram-Sîn, from Akkad, Sumer c. 2291-2254 BC

A royal inscription on a clay and gold stamp in Sumerian cuneiform, it reads:


There are three more brick stamps of the Akkadian King Naram-Sîn with the same text known: one in the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, one in the Kalamazoo Public Library, Michigan and a tiny fragment in the British Museum. Naram-Sîn was the first king to use blocks for printing bricks. Prior to him the inscriptions on the bricks were written by hand. These 3 brick stamps with the known bricks, are the earliest evidence of printing, in this case blindprinting on soft clay.

Naram-Sîn was the third successor and grandson of King Sargon of Akkad. Under Naram-Sîn the Akkadian Empire reached its zenith. He was the first Mesopotamian king known to have claimed divinity for himself, and one of the first to be called “King of the Four Quarters.” There is an inscription on the Bassetki Statue from the reign of Naram-Sîn with an inscription mentioning the construction of a temple in Akkad after he had crushed a revolt against his rule. (Perhaps this is the the temple mentioned on the stamp?) The Bassetki Statue was looted from the Iraq Museum during the 2003 invasion of Iraq but subsequently retrieved and returned to the museum.

Akkad was the capital of the Akkadian Empire, which was the dominant political force in Mesopotamia at the end of the third millennium BC. The existence of Akkad is known only from textual sources; its location has not yet been identified, although scholars have proposed a number of different sites. Most recent proposals point to a location east of the Tigris.

More about the Akkadian Empire…