Vietnam veteran, Eddie Robinson, in a wheelchair, watching the Chattanooga Armed Forces Day parade with his child. This photograph won a Pulitzer Prize in 1977. Chattanooga, Tennessee. May 15, 1976. Photo by Robin Hood
The Blonde Leading the Blind - Jughead Jones x Reader Imagine
Request by anon: Hi! I would like to request something for Jughead maybe something like Betty and Veronica is trying to set up Jughead and reader, so they send them into a blind date or something? Thank you :)
I took a little liberty with it, in the fact that it’s technically a one sided blind date, but I hope you like it!
But think about the pain that Luke feels when he hears Valentine call him Parabatai.
They committed themselves to each other in a way few do, parabatais after all are not a common thing.
Think about it you’re just a child and you’re dedicating yourself to this person. Not only to fight alongside them, but to protect those they love, to follow wherever they may go, to lay beside them in death both literally and figuratively.
You feel their life, it’s buzzing underneath you like the blood pulsing through your very own veins.
Luke genuinely loved Valentine. Thought him to be something greater than life, an inspiration. Luke followed him everywhere even if sometimes he questioned him. And Valentine broke him. He manipulated and twisted their bond and took everything Luke loved away from him, his status, his family, his career.
And you know what’s sad? I don’t think Luke ever stopped loving Valentine in those 18 years. As we see him tell Clary he blames himself for not being able to protect his Parabatai, considers himself selfish and I think he hopes that maybe somewhere there’s still a shred of Val. After all 18 years later he’s the only person who still refers to Valentine as Val.
And now Valentine’s finally gone to far. He killed Jocelyn. He’ll kill Clary to if that’s what has to be done. And Luke finally can’t bear it. In this episode we see Luke for the first time in his life destroy the bonds that still connected him to Valentine.
Baekhyun (according to fire_light_love) was saying that he was an angel who had lost his wings but there was still something there so he showed it the the fans and DANG BAEK YOU SKINNY AS HECK NO WONDER THEY TOOK AWAY UR WINGS THE OTHER ANGELS PROBABLY GOT SCARED OF YOUR RAZOR SHARP SHOULDER BLADES
And Baekhyun’s favorite song from the album was heaven too ;-;
BUT IN THE VIDEO DO YOU SEE HOW CHANYEOL WAS TOUCHING HIM I SWEAR I DON’T THINK THAT WAS NECESSARY AT ALL BUT HE STILL TOOK THAT OPPORTUNITY TO BE ALL TOUCHY
His hand was hovering over Baekhyun and he was practically just waiting for a chance to touch Baekhyun or he was like “bae be careful, I mean there’s nothing to be careful about but be careful. Displaying your body like this takes up a lot of effort” LIKE HE WAS HOLDING ON TO BAEK WHEN BAEK WAS KNEELING DOWN. UMMMMMMMMMMMMM WHAT?
XD yes yes I know he put his hands in between Baekhyun’s shoulder blades to show how deep the crevice was between Baekhyun’s shoulder blades but shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh he was unnecessarily touching Baek the other times
ALSO CHANYEOL WAS THE ONLY ONE TOUCHING HIM WHILE EVERYONE’S HANDS WERE NONEXISTENT OR SOMETHING
I bet they were afraid protective Chanyeol was gunna come out XD
OHHHHHHH MA OTPPPPPPPPPPPP
Chanyeol’s touch count: 8 (if I included the lingering seconds it’d probably be over 100)
A fic in which Maui gets too caught up in the moment and forgets to take care of his hair, so he turns to Moana for some help with it.
Word Count: 2,899
(please don’t tag as a ship)
He’s battled hundreds of monsters before. You name one,
and he’s got three different stories about how he took it down. Te Kā? He took
her out in under an hour. Tamatoa? He beat him in a fight not once, but twice. Giant Eels? He’s happy to remind
you he was the one who killed them
each time he sees you drink from a coconut.
But this? Now this is something Maui can’t admit
he’s tackled before, since it seems to Moana that this is something he’s never
had to deal with before.
He hadn’t even noticed it right away. He and Moana
had taken a fishing boat out for a quick circle around the island, and he was
eager to get out in the water again. It wasn’t until he leaned over the boat to
look for fish did he catch his own reflection and notice something was wrong.
“It’s a disgrace! It’s unbelievable!” Maui shouts,
pacing back and forth on the small canoe. “It’s downright disrespectful!” He says,
and plops down on the boat’s floor, causing it to rock under his heavy weight
for a moment.
John and Sherlock are still not together, but they’re rebuilding their lives. They have finally gotten everything in the flat back to normal, and things are finally starting to go back to the way they used to be. Before…
Well, before all that.
Except now they have Rosie, and Sherlock worships the little girl. He’s spent his days with her teaching her about deductions, helps her learn to walk, tries to teach her how to speak. John will come home and catch him in the act and just smile.
One day, as they’re sitting in their chairs watching the news, Rosie on John’s lap, Sherlock asks John something that’s been on his mind for a while.
“John, what if we took a holiday?”
John looks away from the telly to look at him. “A holiday, huh?”
“Yeah, a uhm… A family… Holiday. Because you and Rosie are my family, and there’s been a lull in cases, so…”
John smiled. “Sounds nice,” he said, then bent down to kiss Rosie’s cheek. “What do you think, baby girl? Does that sound like fun? Can you say ‘yes’?”
Rosie looked at him and then over to Sherlock as she chewed on a fabric doll, not saying a word. John sighed.
“She’ll get there, John.”
“I know, I know, and a break sounds wonderful. Where were you thinking of going?”
“My family has access to a remote island not too far from Italy. We could go there for a few days; we wouldn’t be bothered.”
John smiled. “Sounds bloody fantastic.”
So they leave a few days later. They fly to Italy and take a boat to the island.
“It’s gorgeous,” John says as he takes Rosie out of her seat. Sherlock collects the luggage and brings it inside.
“I thought you’d appreciate it,” Sherlock said with a smile. “Come on, I’ll show you Rosie and your rooms.”
“I get my own room for once? This really is a wonderful holiday” John chuckled.
Once they’re unpacked, they sit on the floor and play with Rosie. They jingle soft toys in her face and Sherlock voices one of her dolls for her, both smiling as the baby laughed. They tried to get her to speak every once in a while, but to no avail.
The night before they leave, Sherlock takes them around the island one last time, and to the top of the small cliff that overlooks the ocean. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sherlock murmurs.
“Very,” John agrees. Sherlock doesn’t realize that John is looking at him as he says it. He doesn’t realize until he looks over to him and catches his gaze, unable to look away.
After a few moments, John clears his throat and whispers, “I’m glad we came here, thank you, Sherlock.”
“Of course, John,” Sherlock says softly, “thank you for coming.”
John smiles. “Of course, it’s like you said; we’re a family, the three of us.”
“A family,” Sherlock repeats with a smile. He hadn’t noticed how close he and John had been standing until now; they’re close enough that Rosie is pressed against his side.
John’s eyes only leave Sherlock’s for a moment as they travel down to his lips before returning to his eyes. Sherlock seems to take the hint because the next thing John knows the detective is leaning his head down towards him, and he’s tilting his head up.
When their lips touch, it’s like a spark of electricity. John had imagined what it would be like to kiss him several times but it’s so much better in reality. Sherlock’s lips are soft against his own and he takes a moment to lock the feeling in his mind before he begins to move his lips against the detective’s.
This is better than Sherlock ever could have imagined. He’d imagined several scenarios that could have lead to this moment but none of them even remotely compared to the real thing. John’s chapped lips resting against his own, then moving in tandem with his own was… magical. He knows it’s cliched, the term and the scenery, but he doesn’t give a damn. He raises his hands up and placed them on John’s waist, pulling the doctor and the little girl he cares so much for closer to him.
When their lips break apart Sherlock keeps his eyes closed for a moment, afraid that if he opens them, the scene would disappear, and it would have all been a dream. When he does open them however, John is still there, Rosie the only thing keeping them from being completely pressed against each other. For a moment, they just looked into each others eyes, then Sherlock clears his throat.
“That was…” he starts, his voice a bit faulty so he clears his throat again. “That was… good. Very good.”
“Yeah, John murmurs with a content sigh, “That was really wonderful.” He smiles at Sherlock and slowly raises one hand to the man’s cheek, giving him space to back away if he wants to. When he doesn’t, John places his hand on Sherlock’s cheek and Sherlock nuzzles it a bit before placing his own hand over John’s, turning his head to kiss the doctor’s palm before resting his cheek against it again.
John smiles and slides his hand back to tangle it in the detective’s dark curls, pulling him closer to kiss him again. Right before their lips touch however, Rosie interrupts them by shouting “Dada!”
The two men freeze and look at the little girl, who is smiling proudly. “Dada!” she said again, looking back and forth between the two of them.
Sherlock and John look at the baby and then back at each other. Once they register what had happened, they smile at each other before looking back to Rosie. John pulls Sherlock close and kisses him once more. They pull apart with smiles and John brings Rosie up higher so they can kiss her cheeks, which sends the little one into a fit of giggles.
“Good job, baby girl!” Sherlock praises, kissing her cheek once more. “Good job! Your dada and I are so proud of you!”
John smiles and presses a kiss into the baby’s blonde curls and feels Sherlock push a kiss into his own hair. John looks up at him and smiles wide. Sherlock smiles back. “See? I told you that she would speak eventually.”
John chuckles. “Yeah, you did. That’s why you’re the genius.”
Sherlock snorts. “Please, John. That’s not the reason I’m the genius.”
John rolls his eyes and shoves him a bit. “Alright, that’s enough you.” He looks back up at Sherlock. “This really has been wonderful, Sherlock. thank you for bringing us here.”
“Of course, John,” he says, eyes bright. He leans his head down and places his lips gently over John’s once more.
It really had been a nice vacation, though if either of them had been asked, they would have said that that last night had been their favorite part.
Ok here’s a Percabeth Valentine’s Day headcanon for y’all:
-Annabeth wakes up, and searches for Percy since he’s secretly a huge romantic and always has something big planned for them despite Annabeth saying that just spending the day together is fine.
-She can’t find him, however, but just brushes it off, thinking that he’s probably off training or something before they go out for their date later.
-As the day drags on, however she starts getting nervous and panics, wondering if somehow Hera took Percy away from her again.
-She is found my Piper a few hours later, just pacing her room.
-Piper breaks Annabeth out of her thoughts and says “Come with me.”
-She leads Annabeth into the Strawberry Fields and Annabeth at first is very confused.
-Before she knows it, there’s an apple being chucked at her, but she manages to catch it.
-”What the-” she’s interrupted by Percy, much to her relief.
-”Wise girl, we have been through hell and back, literally, but we made it through together. Though we do tend to always get into some crazy trouble with the gods, I wouldn’t have it any other way as long as you’re by my side. Now I asked in the Greek way, but here’s me doing it in the more conventional way,” He gets down to one knee and Annabeth knows whats going to happen.
-”Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, will you make me the happiest demigod to ever live and marry me?” Annabeth frantically nods, shouts yes, and kisses him.
-The two are then thrown in the lake, because hey, some things never change, but Percy’s prepared this time and brings food along with them, and they eat a peaceful Valentine’s Day dinner under the water, sharing some of the best underwater kisses of all time.
On good Christian friendships between men and women
This is to all those teens, or young adults, or siblings, or
parents who may be reading this: It is important for young men and women to
be friends with one another, without you or anyone hinting that there’s some
kind of underlying romance.
A quick anecdote: I spent Christmas away from my family –
the first time I’ve ever done so. As such, many of my local friends took pity
on me, and generously invited me to their family gatherings. One of such
friends was a guy I know from church choir; and I took him up on his offer
because he’s a good friend, I needed something to do for Christmas, and I was
excited to meet his family.
When I told this to my parents – my dad, especially –
everyone insinuated that there was something between me and my guy friend A.J.
There is not. In fact, A.J. and I have had discussions to this effect – we
appreciate each other’s friendship, but we’re not looking for anything else. It
was only after I told my dad that A.J. was dating someone (another friend from
choir) that he finally relaxed.
THIS SHOULD NOT BE THE CASE.
Men and women should be allowed to be friends without anyone
insinuating that there’s something more to it. Constant pressure for you to
look at all your guy or gal friends as potential dates is unhealthy. It might
force you to see something that isn’t there.
This isn’t to say that you couldn’t have a guy/girl friend
that you DO have a crush on. I’ve hung out with plenty of guys in the hopes
that we were on the road to something more than friendship. Probably not the
healthiest thing in the world, but I digress.
Even still, just because your
friend/brother/sister/son/daughter spends a lot of time with a person of the
please don’t insinuate that it means that they’re interested in each other. It’s entirely
possible that they are, in which case, your comments will only make them more
self-conscious. And if they’re not, it only makes it more awkward when they
have to explain to you that they’re only friends.
If you think that your loved one’s friendship with anyone is
unhealthy, by all means, step in. But, if you trust that person to choose their
friends wisely, to have healthy platonic relationships, then why badger them
about romance, when that’s not the intent?
In a world so full of lust and “friends with
benefits,” if you or anyone you love has a very healthy, platonic,
Christian friendship with a person of the opposite sex… why question that?
(Note: this is also applicable to LGBT+ people; just change
the exact wording to fit the general message. WE ALL NEED HEALTHY
thing you saw when your tired eyes opened was a strange man with pointed and
delicate features watching your shining scales with amusement.
something wrong with them?” You spoke softly, with a raspy voice and a weird
English accent. It had been too about a year since the last time you talked, so
it was difficult to remember your own voice.
widened at the sudden sound of someone else’s voice echoing in the room. Newt
thought you were going to stay unconscious for another two or three hours so it
took him by surprise how the tail he was touching a few seconds ago moved away
from his hand.
really sorry, I was just trying to h-help you…”he stammered, raising his hands
to show you he didn’t mean to do anything bad to your tail and giving you some
space. In that moment you realized you were laying on a wood bedroom floor and
all your body seemed to be wounded.
you?” Cautiously, your hands moved and helped your stiff upper-body to
awkwardly lean in a somewhat sitting position.
“Are you a human?”
Now that you eyed him carefully, you noted his freckled skin and his obvious
legs. “Like, an actual human?” Your pupils expanded with amazement, you hadn’t been
so close to one since your mother.
and a gentle smile took over your alarmed expression. “I´m a wizard…”
heard a lot of stories about wizards…they seem to be scarier than humans.” But
in the outside, the man in front of you didn’t look dangerous, not even a tad aggressive.
believe we all form part of humanity…but it´s true, we tend to scare magical
creatures a lot…at least since the last war-…”He rambled a little confused but
more amazed by the way you actually talked. “I thought all the merpeople could
only talk underneath water.”
because my mother was a truly powerful witch…she told me that…or something
along those words….”Now you looked troubled and that made the strange wizard
smile in surprise.
thing I would like to put in my book, if you don’t mind.” A book! The
human-correction wizard! You have only meet was a writer. By now, you could
feel your eyes sparkling and your tail moving around in excitement…till you
cringed in pain.
should´ve warned you!” He exclaimed with concern, taking out of his pocket a
well conserved wand. You had seen one before, your mother let you play around
with it, but it never really functioned with you…”This is not going to hurt,
well maybe it´s going to sting… but I pr-promise it won´t last.” The freckled
and handsome man, touched slightly a bruise with the tip of his wand and
whispered something you couldn’t understand, before your scales tinged their
natural color and the pain disappeared.
“That was marvelous!”
You shouted in astonishment, letting your tail move side to side on the wood
Why did he trembled so much? Maybe you were being a bother with your amazement.
“Yes…”Nodding to yourself, you extended one of your hands to him. “It´s nice
to meet you, please call me, whatever you want to.” Having no given name…that’s
all you could offer to him. Your mother appreciated you in a way you would appreciate
a pearl, you would call it pearl…just as she called you siren.
meet you too, the name is Newt.” He
murmured, leaning into you.
your hand and shook it slightly, avoiding your gaze by instinct. You looked at
him closely, catching a glimpse of blue in his eyes and trying to analyze every
inch of his face.
look this handsome?” You asked innocently, making your leaned –new- friend fall
into his knees and awkwardly raise the hand that was touching yours. “Did I
said something to trouble you?”
It´s just…people don’t go around saying that type of things…”Newt answered with
a flushed face and a pair of crimson ears.
not? I was just curious because you have beautiful features.” He seemed eager
to respond so you just watched him with a pout. “I won´t say it again if it
makes you uncomfortable, but I must add that my people are really open about
this…” You commented, sinking the tip of your index finger in one of his warm
and freckled cheeks. “We like to say openly what we think about each other, as
much as we adore music.”
darted to the floor and his hand separated yours from his face, probably
feeling even more embarrassed than before. But now, Newt didn´t let go of your
hand so you were making a progress.
I’ve seen some people upset that Guzma isn’t the lovable goofball they imagined after the trailers, but I actually really like that his softer side exists mostly through implication. I feel like it’s much better storytelling than a guy who’s a complete jackass but can flip it off like a switch when that becomes plot inconvenient. Guzma feels like a very complete character in that sense.
Of course you don’t get a good look at his soft side; you’re his enemy for most of the game. But his grunts are willing to do anything to save him. But he raised an incredibly wimpy, delicate Pokemon. But even Hala thinks he’s still worth his time. But he gives you a treasure he’s held on to for at least a decade, something he even took when he ran away from home.
Sherlock’s bow slid angrily across the strings as he came to a halt again, unsure where to take the next notes. He took the pencil and erased a few notes just as he heard a soft knock on the door…Molly’s knock.
She opened the door, tentatively peeking in. “Hi,” she uttered, briefly making eye contact with him before he looked away and picked up his bow again. “You writing?”
He didn’t answer, but instead began playing from the beginning again. She walked over closer, but he didn’t want to look at her. Likely Mary’s body had been taken to Bart’s earlier, and despite the fact that perhaps Molly was hurting and wanted to talk things through, he selfishly didn’t want to hear one word about it…for fear he might crumble instantly.
Sherlock cursed under his breath as he came to a stop again.
“It’s lovely already,” Molly whispered gently. “I think, um…” Her voice cracked a little. “I think Mary would have loved it.”
Sherlock’s eyes started to feel burning hot and he drew a difficult breath. “I can’t…finish it,” he whispered, teeth clenched.
She reached out and touched his arm. “You will. It’s ok, you will.”
He set his mouth firmly and cleared his throat. “You don’t need to be here to right now. Surely John and Rosie-”
“Are fine. Harry is here for a couple of days. I’m not worried about them right now,” she said pointedly.
He looked at her then, really looked in her eyes, and spoke firmly. “I don’t deserve your concern at the moment, or anyone else’s.”
Molly’s lips parted, her eyes full of horror. “Sherlock,” she said more sternly, grasping his arm again. “This was not your fault. Do you understand me?”
Sherlock wasn’t sure if he would ever believe her. He looked away and began lifting his violin again, but was a little shocked with what she did next.
Molly halted his arm and gently drew the violin down again, reaching up and wrapping her arms firmly around his shoulders and holding him tight. He thought about tugging out of her grasp, but his eyes started to burn again and somehow the tiny arms around him felt like the strongest support system ever built. And it felt so impossibly wonderful to suddenly be supported.
“It was not your fault,” she repeated softly but firmly.
Sherlock couldn’t help feeling a twinge of shame as a hot tear slid down his cheek and onto her neck, but he still stayed firmly in place.
“Don’t go,” he whispered before really contemplating the words ahead of time.
“I won’t,” Molly confirmed instantly. “I’ll stay as long as you’d like.”
He couldn’t lose anyone else. He didn’t want to be without any of them ever again. Sherlock couldn’t fathom a world where any one of these precious people didn’t exist. And the woman holding him in her arms was certainly one of those people.
Sherlock swallowed hard while setting his violin and bow down and finally wrapping his arms around her middle. He answer in a low whisper.
Today (valentines) one of our teachers made our entire grade’s boys throw away our (girls) trash at lunch, offer their jackets if we were cold, and basically be our slaves the entire day. Knowing me, I put that to good use and made every boy I saw do something for me. They carried my things, bought my lunch, and threw my stuff away even when the trash can was a few feet away from me. (I know, I’m a bitch) One of my friends ran over to my exboyfriend and told him to give me his jacket. He was about to, but his best friend took his off and started chasing me around the hall screaming “TAKE MY JACKET, MAIA!!” At least three other tried giving me theirs but I wouldn’t take any.
The headstone was plain: Joseph Kavinsky 1999-2016. No epitaph, no words of encouragement, no quote that summed up the tragedy of a young life gone. Nothing else.
Ronan slowly opened the beer he’d brought and took a long drink from the bottle. It was bitter going down and Ronan coughed and glared as he almost choked from how quickly he tried to get it down. The only other soul in the cemetery was Chainsaw, who was sitting on top of another tombstone not far away, watching him with a solemn gaze.
“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Ronan said to the emptiness of the cold air. It was almost Halloween, Kavinsky’s favorite holiday; he always threw large, ridiculous parties this time of year.
“Such a piece of shit,” Ronan continued as he poured the rest of the beer on top of Kavinsky’s grave. “I told you to fucking get down off of that fucking car and you didn’t. You didn’t do it, you just…”
The words became jumbled in his throat and he had to cut off before the emotions slammed into his body too quickly. He’d told himself he wouldn’t cry, since Kavinsky didn’t deserve his tears anyway. His body, however, wasn’t listening to his wants, not today.
“Just fuck you, man, for checking out early. For putting my brother in that car. Just fuck you.”
The desire to kick the tombstone was almost too great, but Ronan refrained. He wasn’t about to break a toe over Kavinsky’s grave either. No more broken bones over Joseph Kavinsky, Ronan had promised himself that too when he’d contemplated going and beating up one of K’s Mitsubishis in the field.
Tears burned along his eyelids and Ronan couldn’t stop them. They were falling and tracking hot wounds down his cheeks. He wiped his face on the back of his sleeve. They kept coming.
“You weren’t supposed to fucking die, I was supposed to yank you off of that car and beat the shit out of you for what you did. You weren’t supposed to give up, K. You weren’t supposed to fucking quit.”
Ronan turned his eyes upward and wondered if K were in Heaven. If his religion were right, suicide meant K would be in Hell, but for all of the things Kavinsky had done, Ronan didn’t want him to be there. It was one of the few things he vehemently disagreed with when it came to the church.
Part of him wanted to get high for K - if he got high, just enough, he would maybe see K again. Just one more time. If he saw him again one more time he’d tell K to shove it and then he’d feel better.
Tears were making his voice break. “I miss you, man” he managed to say. “I shouldn’t, but I do, so fuck you for that, too. Just.. Fuck you.”
Chainsaw flapped her wings as the wind picked up. Ronan shivered and slowly removed one of the bracelets Kavinsky had given him what felt like a lifetime ago. Coughing a bit to clear his throat, Ronan knelt down and found a little stone to pin the bracelet down next to the tombstone.
“I’m gonna kick your ass later, got it?” Ronan whispered. “Kick your ass all over Heaven, man. All over it. Then we’ll probably get escorted downstairs, but it’d be worth it.”
The wind slapped him in the face and Ronan rolled his eyes. Kavinsky had always been dramatic. He turned his middle finger up to the sky to spite K one more time and then stomped off toward his car. Chainsaw joined him quietly, landing on his shoulder, pulling at hood of his jacket.
The cemetery remained quiet when Ronan drove away.
Request: evil!barry is toxic now lol. Is it possible for you to write about the heroes testing barry’s child to see if they have inherited his power but barry didn’t know and gets angry? Or something like that? I just love protective evil!barry as a dad.
a/n: I LOVE EVIL DAD BARRY PERIOD
Barry had left for…well, not even a hour on a heist and came back home to you balling on the couch. Something is wrong. There’s no little munchkin running around, singing Disney princess songs. Curling his hands to his sides, he speeds over to your spot, taking note of how low your black shirt is - not the time. Daughter first, then seduce the wife.
You peer up at him through blurry vision, clasping your thighs tightly, “Barry, they - they took - they took her! They took our baby! They took her away - away from me!” you sob, covering your mouth with your hand, messy hair tumbling in front of your face. This whole thing is tearing you apart, piece by piece.
Blood boiling, Barry squats down, cupping your cheeks in his midnight colored gloves. He hate - no, no, loates seeing tears in your Y/C/E eyes. “Who? Who took her?” he growls, trying not to sound angry at you. You shake your head, gulping, and Barry knows. He just knows. “Citizen Cold.” he grumbles; if this was a cartoon, smoke would be sprouting from his ears like a fucking chimney.
Before speeding to the Cold Cave, he kisses your forehead, reassuring you Y/D/N will be safe. His steel toe boots create an awful noise when he enters Leonard Snart’s secret lair. “Daddy!” he hears his daughter shout in a gleeful tone. He spins, seeing the little girl hooked up to a machine that looks like one that would be in a hospital.
He sighs, zooming over to her, hands latched on her tiny waist, which is covered by a bright blue fluffy unicorn onesie. “Baby, you sure gave daddy a scare.” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else, “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you did he?” he asks in an warning voice, his scrutinizing her face as he unhooks her from the machine. She shakes her head, long light brown waves bouncing around.
“Chill, Flash. Just making sure we don’t have another speedster on our hands.” Leonard explains, raising his hands in defeat. The dark blue parka shifts at the movement, showing the famous cold gun strapped to his black jeans. “We don’t. No harm done.” he drawls, cocking his head to the side.
“Thought we had a deal. You leave my girls alone, I don’t….” he grits his teeth, mouthing ‘kill people’. He won’t say it in front of his daughter. She’s too innocent for that; she’s barely three. “You broke that.” he sighs dramatically, peering at the little girl on his hip. She plays with his black hoodie, mouth open, showing off her chubby cheeks. His fingers curl against the fluffy pink circle on her chest. “Deals off, Cold… But next time, I’ll vibrate my hand through your chest.” he promises, turning on a dime.
Tucking his baby into his chest, trying to remain serious as the unicorn hood covers her eyes, he races back to the safe house, landing on the couch. Instantly, you pull Y/D/N to you, hugging her tightly. Oh, oh your baby’s back. Barry scoots closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders while he leans down, kissing her chubby cheek.
She opens her mouth, staring at him in a daze, “Daddy!” she beams, putting her tiny hand on his nose. Yeah, that’s his adorable unicorn. He’s proud.
“Have you really got to go, Mac?” he asked, in a very small voice.
“Aye, I have.” He looked into the dark blue eyes, so heartbreakingly like his own, and suddenly didn’t give a damn what was right or who saw. He pulled the boy roughly to him, hugging him tight against his heart, holding the boy’s face close to his shoulder, that Willie might not see the quick tears that fell into his thick, soft hair.
Willie’s arms went around his neck and clung tight. He could feel the small, sturdy body shake against him with the force of suppressed sobbing. He patted the flat little back, and smoothed Willie’s hair, and murmured things in Gaelic that he hoped the boy would not understand.
At length, he took the boy’s arms from his neck and put him gently away.
“Come wi’ me to my room, Willie; I shall give ye something to keep.”
“Here. Keep this, too, to remember me by.” He laid the beechwood rosary gently over Willie’s head. “Ye canna let anyone see that, though,” he warned. “And for God’s sake, dinna tell anyone you’re a Papist.”
“I won’t,” Willie promised. “Not a soul.” He tucked the rosary into his shirt, patting carefully to be sure that it was hidden.
“Good.” Jamie reached out and ruffled Willie’s hair in dismissal. “It’s almost time for your tea; ye’d best go on up to the house now.”
Willie started for the door, but stopped halfway, suddenly distressed again, with a hand pressed flat to his chest.
“You said to keep this to remember you. But I haven’t got anything for you to remember me by!”
Jamie smiled slightly. His heart was squeezed so tight, he thought he could not draw breath to speak, but he forced the words out.
“Dinna fret yourself,” he said. “I’ll remember ye.”
More on Percy and mental illness, definitely a companion to “on panic” and “on being older”. Written for @arkhamarchitecture, who said something that made me think of it.
She can’t put her finger on when it happened, exactly.
Vex watches him, twisting the ring on her finger around and around. (It’s beautiful, and perfect, and so heavy on her hand.) She watches him start sketches in his notebook and never finish them. She watches him as he starts to sleep in even longer, then stay up for two nights straight because he let the responsibilities he took from Cassandra’s shoulders slip.
She watches him force himself into intimacy. He gets off, and he never pushes her away, but she’s started counting how long it will take if she doesn’t initiate affection herself.
“Trinket, dear, go let Percival pet you for a while.” She sends in the bear, because she knows that will be less pressure. (Vex wants to ask Trinket after, if Percy’s said anything to him, but that’s not fair.)
She joins them one day, her fiance’s face buried Trinket’s side as he strokes the soft fur. Vex sits beside them and leans into the bear as well. “Percy, I think we need to talk about something.”
So one day in eighth grade I brought in a plastic spider to scare my friend (who hates spiders) and my English took it away from me. He then tied it to a ruler and went around scaring kids in his classes, but he then tried to scare our history teacher, who takes no crap from anyone, and then she took it from him. Now, the wall between the history and English room was one of those slidey walls, and it wasn’t completely closed one day. By that time, it had been a while since I had brought in the spider, and had assumed my English teacher had thrown it out or something. I’m sitting near the gap in the wall that day, when all of a sudden a GIANT SPIDER APPEARS. It was my plastic spider, and the start of the Plastic Bug War between Period 2 English and Period 2 History.
Basically, we kept throwing plastic bugs through the gap until the history teacher got sick of it and closed it.