Why are you anti Hilary Clinton? I'm genuinely curious.. I'm able to vote this year but I'm extremely confused on who to vote for.
When I was in elementary school, Hillary came to our school and did an assembly on early childhood education or something and I remember it being really long and boring sitting there on the concrete floor watching this lady ramble on. When she was done they took the kids in the first couple of rows and had them stand up so they could shake Hillary’s hand for some reason, and I was in the second row so I had to do it. She hugged some of the kids and teachers and shook some hands and stuff but when she got to me I was just kinda standing there and then she looked right in my eyes as she let out one of the loudest sneezes my first grade ears had ever heard. When it was over she wiped her mouth with her hand and then patted me with that hand on my right shoulder. I’ll never forget the feeling I had deep inside me in that moment. It was some strange combination of rage, confusion, and disgust and I couldn’t do anything about it because she had already moved down the line. She never apologized to me and she probably thought I’d forget about it or that I didn’t see her wipe her hand on me, but I still vividly remember that sneeze and wipe to this day.
Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.
Warning(s): Fluff & Angst
A/N: A scene is lowkey inspired by the perks of a wallflower in this chapter sksk enjoy you little cuties !! sorryforthewait
Richie pulled over, smirking as he watched Eddie’s confusion grow.
“You stopped here?”
“Yep, now get out.” Richie hummed, before climbing out of the truck doorway- grabbing his keys and standing to his feet.
Eddie was confused, his head tilted as he climbed out and looked at his surroundings. What stood before him was a tall abandoned carpark building surrounded in intertwining railings, the strands of thin grass below standing tall and knee length to Eddie.
“This is an abandoned building.”
“Well done, captain K.” Richie spoke with sarcasm, hands in his pockets, “This is my hideout.”
Eddie stepped forward next to Richie, glancing at the wired railings that stood before them both. “So, how do you get into the hideout?”
Richie hummed yet again, walking along the side of the metal, his fingers trailing against each curve. His eyes fixated on a small gap that he used to climb through when he was younger. “I’m presuming you’re not a climber, right Eds?”
“I am not climbing that thing, no way.” Eddie folded his arms, “There should just be an entrance-”
The AP United States History Exam is right around the corner. These next few weeks are the most stressful time of the year for most students. So, if you are going to procrastinate, you can procrastinate with style! Here is a list of movies, musicals, videos, ect. that came to mind while I was studying during the year. They are a lot of fun to watch, but they are educational, and most of them are free!
Liberty’s Kids: a super cute, animated series that takes place during the American Revolution, and highlights some of its aftermath. There are 40 episodes, but each thirty minute episode is full of concrete details.Start watching the first episodehere
Drunk History: Really funny with some topics not often discussed in the textbooks, but very relevant.
Hamilton: obviously this is a no-brainer. The music is full of concrete details and has helped me so much during my multiple choice practice tests dealing with early US development. You can listen to the full soundtrack here. Below is a shortened list of songs that have the most relevant concrete details.
Dogfight: Probably my favorite musical. It’s one night in America during the Vietnam war, and there aren’t a ton of concrete details, but the parts here (starting at 1:19) and here (10:25) accurately reflect the time period. You can start watching the whole musical here. (warning: there is a lot of cursing)
Pocahontas: Okay, let me preface this by saying that there are a lot of inaccuracies in this movie. A lot. But if you disregard the portrayal of Pocahontas and John Smith, there are some CDs. Listen to the Virginia Companyfor some of the highlights.
EDIT (7/9/16) : Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson: Though there is some explicit language I picked out the songs that have some great concrete details on Jackson’s presidency and philosophies.
So that’s my list. All of the links are italicized. If you have any movies/musicals/videos/songs/ect that you think would help feel free to message me and I will add it to list. Good luck to everyone on the test this Friday!
“Aren’t you supposed to be out pummeling that alien queen into the concrete?” Cat asked, watching Supergirl land gently on her balcony.
“I am, soon. Sooner than soon,” Kara said, looking at the countdown that was playing on the corner of all the screens behind Cat’s desk. Fifteen minutes left. “I just had a talk with Kal. Er, Superman.”
Cat’s eyebrow lifted at the accidental name drop, tucking away the information for… nothing, probably. She couldn’t exactly start printing every little slip up Kara made in her presence. But it was always nice to know more than other people. “Did he give you some tips on not getting snatched by that god-awful cape?”
“No, although that would be helpful if he had any,” Kara said, twisting the end of her cape anxiously around her arm. “He just said some stuff about… about fighting for people that you cared about. His girlfriend, mostly.”
“Superman has a girlfriend?” Cat asked, sidetracked for a moment at the thought of Lois Lane finding out that her precious superhero was going home to someone else.
r requests allowed?? for the uni au fic prompts you reblogged with @papalogia??? the #14 one??? :)
Meet Cute Reality
Word Count; 1096
A/N; Hey guys! Finally catching up on all the prompts in my inbox! This is from @papalogia ‘s prompt list !
14) “I come to the library every day to ‘study’ but really I’m just watching Netflix over your shoulder and I’m really invested in this series and the day we’re supposed to be watching the season finale you’re not there and I??? Feel personally betrayed??”
Lucy sat down at her desk, flipped open her 17th-century literature notes, sat her triple shot extra vanilla caramel macchiato on the table, her textbook beside her, and finally looked up.
He wasn’t there.
Where the hell was he?
It was 5:30, Lucy was settled into her spot at the last table between Row Ba and Bu, and yet the table in front of her was glaring empty.
How the fuck was she going to find out how this season of White Collar ended?
Honestly, it wasn’t even Lucy’s fault she was addicted to that show. She had been sitting innocently in the library two weeks ago when she noticed the guy in front of her, not studying. Even if Lucy hadn’t done a double take on his neon pink hair and double bars in his left ear she would have noticed his screen playing the show just in front of him. It’s not like Lucy had been staring at him, it’s just that she had to look past him to watch his stupid laptop.
Look, Lucy couldn’t afford Netflix and she wasn’t about to risk her own laptop going on one of those shady sites just so she could find out if Niel managed to pull the scam or if he’d stay on the good side with the agent.
But God did she want to find out. Lucy looked down, worrying her lip. She probably could study like she had meant to every time she came here, but after the let down of mystery-boy not showing up Lucy just didn’t have the energy to do it. Dejected, she packed up her notes and textbook, putting in her headphones as she headed to the doors.
Lucy was halfway back to her dorm when something hard slammed into her shoulder, sending her sprawling on her ass in the grass beside the sidewalk. She rubbed her back, scowling at the boy who had caused her fall. He sat across from her, also having fallen from the collision. Her drink coated the pavement beside, thankfully missing her clothes.
The boy however, was not so lucky with his own drink.
“Aw, fuck,” he complained, arms cast to the side as he tried to keep himself from touching the red stain the was dripping down his front. And making his tank top cling to his defined muscles. Damn. It was like one of those meet cutes she read online.
Lucy’s bad mood was starting to ebb away until she looked at his face. It was a very good face, but Lucy’s attention was stolen from looking at it more closely by the bright pink colour of his hair. And the piercings in his ear, two bars on the left and smaller plugs in his lobes. And another two in his lip and eyebrow.
Lucy pointed her finger at him, clambering onto her knees. The boy blinked at her in confusion, bright eyes green and wide as his gaze flicked between her finger and her face.
“Uh, do I know you?” he asked, lips thinning when Lucy huffed.
“You weren’t in the library! Where were you? I waited for like ten minutes to watch the stupid season finale and you never showed up!” She said hotly. Lucy pouted when the boy started to laugh.
“You’re the weirdo who always watches my laptop with me!”
“Uh,” Lucy mumbled, flushing harder.
“Was wondering if you’d just stop eventually,” he grinned at her, no malice and a light teasing dancing in his forest green colouring.
“Well then why did you have the subtitles on?” Lucy asked hotly. Honestly, if he had noticed and thought she was weird then why wouldn’t he have just turned them off?
The boy gave her a knowing grin before moving his hands. Realization dawned on Lucy and she felt heat creep up her neck in shame.
“Oh my God he’s deaf,” she whispered to himself.
“And his name is Natsu,” the boy grinned at her, laughing at Lucy jolting and her high squeak. “I can read lips, Weirdo.” Lucy covered her mouth, stopping herself from saying anything else that might offend Natsu. They sat in silence, Lucy worrying her lip. She stood up finally, gathering her bag and offering her hand to Natsu. He gave her an odd look, taking it anyway and smiling at her easily when she helped him up.
“I have a laundry machine in my dorm,” she said slowly, looking at his lip ring pointedly.
“Ya don’t have to,” Natsu started, shocked at her offer. Lucy shrugged, blushing as she realized they were still holding hands.
“Its my fault you spilled your drink all over yourself,” Lucy mumbled, blushing when she realized that Natsu probably couldn’t understand her. She shrugged anyway, pulling Natsu with her. Why’d he have to be so cute though? Ugh, Lucy just wanted to bury herself in her blankets and sleep for a week.
“You know I didn’t hate sharing my laptop with ya. Thought it was a little weird, but I mean look at me. Deaf punk college chem student. I ain’t exactly gonna judge ya for it.” Natsu shrugged, giving her another easy smile. Lucy smiled back, watching the concrete in front of them for a couple seconds. Steeling herself, she tapped on his arm, turning to face him but still only looking at his lip ring. It was silver with a red jewel in the middle, and Lucy thought it stood out nicely against his skin.
“I don’t think you’re weird.” She said, picking up the pace as she pulled Natsu along behind her.
“You don’t even know me yet! What’s your name anyway, Weirdo?”
Lucy pouted at the reoccurring nickname. “It’s Lucy,” She grumbled.
“Lushi?” Natsu sounded out.
“No,” Lucy said, meeting Natsu’s eyes. “Lu-see.” She over-pronounced it, trying her best to make it easier for Natsu to understand.
“Lu-shi,” Natsu sang, slinging his arm over her shoulder. Lucy scoffed as she realized he was making fun of her, elbowing him in the side. She was vindicated when he grunted, his sniggers cut off as she caught his kidney. “So violent,” he mumbled, and Lucy looked at him as she worked out if he had meant for her to hear or not. Deciding he hadn’t meant to speak out loud she let it go, fishing for her key in her bag.
“Uh,” Natsu said, Lucy looking up at him as he scratched the side of his face awkwardly. “We can finish watching White Collar while my shirt’s in the wash?” Natsu offered. Lucy smiled, nodding slightly as she bit her lip to stop it from getting too large. “Cool,” Natsu said, a little loudly. Lucy giggled, ducking her head. Looks like Lucy might be getting her meet-cute anyway.
„Did I ever tell you about the time when Catarina and
I stumbled upon the ruins of a lost city when we were exploring the Amazonian
jungle?” Magnus’ voice carries easily through the loft as he moves ahead to the
main living space and Alec stops in the hall to set all of the shopping bags aside neatly.
After that, he follows further in, pauses in the
doorway – the golden light from the chandelier above their heads reflects
against the crystals sewn onto his coat, lights up the streaks in his hair and
simply makes Magnus look exquisite; Alec’s stuck staring as the warlock shrugs
off the coat one shoulder at a time and glances over at Alec when no reply
comes for a moment too long. It’s very late on an evening and they’ve had a few
drinks with their dinner, so Alec’s mind is a little hazy. He wants to sink
into the ambiance of the flat, keep the last few hours in a jar like fireflies,
as he never wants this day to end.
“No, you didn’t. I’d love to hear about it, though.”
Alec replies, his voice a low hum, as he reduces the space separating them
enough to reach out and place his hands against Magnus’ chest. He’s dressed in
a well-fitted three-piece suit, black and smooth beneath Alec’s fingertips. A
coy smile plays on Magnus’ lips while something entirely else flickers in those
gorgeous eyes and Alec wants to kiss him so badly.
Please please please PLEASE do a fic where betty runs after jughead. It would mean everything to me
I’m definitely gonna do some more fluffy requests after this, but of course I had to get all the feels from the episode out of the way first!
“Jughead, wait!” Betty’s voice cracked as she called after his retreating figure. He paused at the top of the steps leading from the school, eyes glancing frantically in every direction as he decided how to get away, where to go. She reached for him, fingers swiping empty air as he slipped further from her grasp.
“Leave me alone.” His voice wasn’t hard, he didn’t shout. It was broken, coated in the betrayal of a young boy who’d been hurt too many times before, icy coldness seeping in around the edges. The look he thew over his shoulder as he began to descend the steps sucked all the air from her body, chest aching with rejection. He looked disappointed, resigned… unsurprised. A fresh wave of tears fell from her eyes as she realised that, however deep down he tried to suppress it, he expected something like this to happen. Even from her, she thought as an uncomfortable prickle of shame crept down her spine.
Her legs were frozen, feet planted firmly on the concrete as she watched his outline get further and further away from her, disappearing into the darkness as he sprinted from the people he used to consider friends. Betty’s fingers curled in on themselves as her eyes remained, unfocused, on the last place she saw him, nails poised to break the skin. A warm hand on her frost-nipped shoulder pulled her out of her reverie.
“Betty,” Veronica’s soft, pleading voice reached her, muffled by the sound of her heart, pounding in her ears. Betty wrenched herself from Veronica’s grasp, turning to her with a look of disgust etched on her features.
“No! How dare you?” she accused, voice quiet, barely piercing the still night air, but with a deadly venom dripping from every word. Veronica visibly flinched, Archie’s hand coming up to rest at the base of her spine. “I have to find him. I need to-” she choked, no longer addressing the couple before her, commanding herself to move. She narrowly avoided tripping over her own feet as she began to walk on numb legs, pace picking up until she was running after Jughead, full force.
Where would he go? Where would he need to be right now? Her mind flew through every possibility as her feet pounded the pavement, breath billowing in white clouds before her as her lungs burned with every inhale of frigid air. She thought about Pop’s, but with a stab to her gut she realised that it would no longer seem like a safe place to him. She had taken that from him too, corrupted it with soft declarations of warm feelings, promises of forever, and whispered confessions about every hidden corner of themselves, for their ears only. The red vinyl of their booth was seeped in the blood of his open, wounded heart, pulled out with her own hands and left, barely beating, on the sticky tabletop.
The drive in was a mess of crushed rubble and memories lost, something new being built atop the old before the dust even had time to settle, scabs unable to form over the cuts. It was merely one more strike in the column, one further pair of hands shoving Jughead towards the ‘you are now leaving Riverdale, please come again soon’ sign. Betty could feel each passing second tap against her skin, gnawing at her like an irritating insect that kept coming back for more, no matter how many times you swatted it away.
By the time she’d reached FP’s trailer her legs were cramping, feet aching and bleeding inside her heels, dark lips outlined with blue. Her chest swelled with hope as she saw the torn down police tape, the thrown open door. As quickly as it had risen her heart plummeted. If he was inside what would she say? She wasn’t sure she could handle further accusations from him, already cracked and broken too much from everything passed. She couldn’t feel the wind around her, the floor beneath her, her vision tunnelled as she crept into the darkened doorway.
Her eyes widened at the state of the trailer, upturned furniture and belongings thrown haphazardly about the place. He’d told her, the morning after he went to visit his dad with coffee and doughnuts, walking into the Blue and Gold office with a comically misplaced smile, about how FP had cleaned up, not only himself but the trailer too. It resembled the fading memories Jughead had of his childhood home more than ever, cushions plumped, flowers in the vase by the front window. He could almost feel his mom’s presence slipping back into the trailer, unwilling to push down the hope of a reunited family any longer. Now it looked as if a hurricane had swept through, upending everything once more. She almost missed his hunched figure as her eyes flew furtively across the room, tucked against the counter, fading into the furnishings.
“Jug?” He stiffened as her whisper broke through his shuddering sobs, straightening up in an instant. He didn’t turn to look at her. She could see his uneven breaths unfurling before him. Her face crumpled as she dropped to her knees beside him, fingers desperate to touch.
“I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, hurrying to continue at his disbelieving huff. “I know that will never be enough, but you have to believe me. I didn’t want to hurt you, I never meant to cause you any pain…”
“Intention and execution are two different things,” he murmured, voice hoarse in the aftermath of his tears. Betty nodded, eyes cast downwards on her clenched fists, resting on top of the wrinkled satin of her dress. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on it anxiously as she awaited his goodbye, hoping to let the tears slip silently down her cheeks without the accompanying wail that threatened to burst from her lips. A heavy silence settled over them, and every moment he didn’t break it, didn’t make to move away from her, she prayed it would last just a minute more. She had a thousand things to say, rolling about it her head, pounding against her skull until it ached. But she was terrified that even one word would be the final trigger in sending him away for good. Her fists tightened as she began the first story that came to mind, just to speak.
“When I was seven Mom told me we could get a pet. I was so excited, I’d been pleading with her for months and months. I spent ages pouring through magazines and looking at all the posters in the window of the shelter looking for just the right addition to our family. Then an advert for a tiny ginger kitten appeared and I knew that was the one. I cleared out a little space in my room, filled it with cushions and blankets because I was so sure that this would be where it was going to sleep. When I went to tell Mom that I had chosen and we should go and shop for things before we picked the cat up, I told her I was going to call it Caramel, she had just had a huge fight with Dad. I didn’t know what about, but all I remember is her looking down at me and saying she’d changed her mind. Just like that. I cried and cried but she just told me to stop being such a baby, to grow up. I was so inconsolable that Dad went and bought me a stuffed toy, a ginger cat with the name tag Caramel. I was so furious with this replacement that I screamed until I made myself sick.” Betty let out a humourless laugh as she remembered her behaviour. Neither one of her parents had shown her any sympathy after that. She took a breath.
“I know it’s not even close to what is happening now, but I know what it’s like to have the rug pulled from under you. I remember what it felt like, at seven years old, to feel betrayed by the people you thought loved you the most. And I promised myself that I would never make anyone I… I would never make anyone I love feel that way if I could help it.” She didn’t notice the way his breath stopped at her confession, liquid blue eyes glancing over to her from his peripheries. The scarlet drops of blood pouring from her clenched fists, staining her dress, seemed to escape her notice, but not his.
“The thought that I made you feel like that breaks my heart,” she continued, her voice nothing more than a high-pitched, shaky whimper as the dam broke. “And I’d do anything to take it back, to just tell you what was-” Her breathing was too fast to continue the sentence, heart pounding against her rib cage as all the oxygen left the room.
His warm hands covered her fists. She pulled in a deep inhale, air rushing to aid her lungs as his fingers unfurled her own, revealing the fresh, deep wounds in her palms. Her face flamed crimson as they both stared down at the damage she’d done once again. His sigh washed over her skin, lighting it up with tiny flames, as he lifted her hands to his lips, cradling them in his own as he placed a delicate kiss against the back of her fingers. He wiped away the blood with his thumbs, smearing it over her pale skin. When she tucked her head into the crook of his neck he didn’t pull away, didn’t stiffen. Instead he raised his hand to the back of her head, fingers tangling in the golden, silky strands, anchoring her against him.
It wasn’t a sign of acceptance, it wasn’t a sign that all was forgiven. But it was still a sign. It was a sign of hope.
Summary: Prompt 122. “I may despise you with the burning white hot intensity of a thousand suns, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you.” I changed it to the word like from the word love, which is what the prompt said originally.
A/N: I am fucking weak for him and this is fifteen pages long in my notebook. This, also, is titled after the Heat Wave highlighter. Also, (most importantly) Finn’s 👌fucking👌 back now and his hair is long and his beard is longer and he wore his leather jacket and all black attire and… it was the most sexually explicit thing I have ever.
My nose crinkles up as I pass the window and see Finn sitting at the table. Sami sat next to him, but that did nothing to keep me from stopping in my tracks, “Seriously? You guys have to stop pulling this stuff.”
Request: “more jealous/angry
newt???? i live for angst”
Pairing: Newt Scamander x
Word Count: 1474
Warnings: ANGST DANG MAN I’M CRYN (might have a smutty part 2?!?!?!!?)
Again she was drifting further away, her lazy gaze switching
between the cars that travelled through the street. Her elbow leant against the
window sill, the thin fabric of her dressing gown flying as the warm breeze
sifted through the orifice, erupting in a quiet sneeze as the pollen from the
flowers beyond her smaller hands tickled her nose and fell onto her eyelashes.
perfect in every way imaginable Newt thought, his hand mindlessly
sketching the curves of your figure as you dozed across the sill. He thought he
might be ensnared by your ethereal beauty, and only in the coming days after
realizing his love for you did he understand that he already was. Although you
thought of yourself as plain on better days, Newt could barely view you as
anything less than flawless, your skin glistening under the sinking sun as you
began to hum a tune.
“I think I might go out dancing tonight.” You spoke softly, as if
to yourself. Even so, the combined notes of your voice to make such a simple
sentence made his heart race.
“Dancing?” Newt replied with a slight smirk. “You told me you
You turned your face from the street, looking back to the man who
lounged with his journal in hand and a rosy tint to his cheeks. It was on days
such as these, so effortless and calm, that your true beauty shone. Every deep
breath you took, your chest rising beneath the white silk you wore, allured Newt
until he had to shake the wandering thoughts from his mind.
You grabbed your waffles from the toaster, putting them on your plate. It was Monday morning and you were eating breakfast. You disliked Monday mornings. You didn’t understand why schools couldn’t start later in the day. You weren’t asking for much, just a little more sleep.
As you sat down at the table to eat your breakfast, Gabriel almost scared you half to death. “I’m going to put bells on you so you can’t sneak up on me like that,” you grumbled, glaring at the archangel across from you.
“You know my brother would say that’s kinky,” Gabriel stated with a wide grin. “I call it foreplay.”
You rolled your eyes, taking a bite out of your waffle. You heard the clicking of your mom’s heels on the tile floor of the kitchen. She was already on the phone. You weren’t surprised anymore. Your mom worked most of the day. It had been like this since your dad left. Or so your mom told you.
I heard a few of the ecstatic cries of “Delphine lives!” that
echoed ‘round the internets back in June, before I knew who Delphine was
or had any concrete plans of ever watching Orphan Black, so when I dove in a few months later, I was already aware of the following:
there was somebody named Delphine
at some point, she would appear to die
wasn’t there for the Great Fandom Mutiny that erupted in the wake of
the season 3 finale. From where I was sitting, Delphine was only gone
for like two days, and there was never any doubt that she was coming
back. I can imagine how it might have felt to be left wondering about her fate for fifty-one weeks, but I can only imagine. The disappointment, the anguish, the sense of betrayal? I never got the chance to feel any of that.
Furthermore, there’s the issue of representation, which I like to think I
understand, but being a member of the most over-represented demographic
in the history of American/Canadian television, I’m aware that my
understanding is limited by the fact that it isn’t something I can experience.
I can denounce the constant killing of wlw characters on TV, both as a
trite, lazy cliché and as a harmful way to represent a marginalized
group, but I can’t know how it would affect me to have prime-time dramas
repeatedly reinforcing the idea that stories about people like me can
only end in tragedy. So I acknowledge that even if I had been there from
the beginning, Delphine’s shooting wouldn’t have had the same impact on
me that it had on much of the fandom.
All right, I’ve got the
disclaimers out of the way, now on to the point: in the debate over the
showrunners’ true intentions in the infamous parking garage
scene–whether Delphine was actually meant to die or not–I lean towards
believing the official line, which is that they planned to bring her
back all along. From a storytelling standpoint, it just doesn’t make
sense to have such a fan-favorite character die off-screen between
seasons, and then leave her fate unaddressed for so long. Confirming her
death nearly a year after she was shot–after so many viewers had given
her up for dead–would have had no real plot-twist value; it would have
been the very definition of anticlimactic.
this is not an ironclad argument. It hinges upon the assumption that
Graeme Manson and John Fawcett do not have their heads up their asses,
and if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my multiple decades as a
watcher of TV, it’s that this can never be safely assumed about
television producers. Compound this with their unambiguous denial that
Evelyne Brochu would be returning for season 4, plus their tone-deaf
response to everyone who rebuked them for perpetuating the Bury Your
Gays trope (essentially “Yeah, but it was different when we did
it*”), and I can easily see where the other side is coming from. So for
those who are still angry about it, be angry; I’m not telling anyone
how to feel. If Delphine’s eventual return/resurrection was not
sufficient atonement in your book, that’s your business.
But I’m jealous. I wish I
could believe they meant for her to die. If they killed her off and
then caved to fan pressure to bring her back, do you know what that
means? It means they understand that they fucked up! It means they’ve learned that we will not stand for these shenanigans! It means Cophine is safe!
maybe not. This theory, too, is dependent upon an uncertain assumption:
that the showrunners have managed to keep their heads out of their
asses ever since those heads were dislodged by the uproar over
Delphine’s apparent death. Still, I can’t help thinking that I’d be a
lot more optimistic about a Cophine happy ending if I believed Fawcett
and Manson had learned a lesson from all of this. If they always
intended to bring her back–as I suspect is probably the case–then what
lesson was there to learn?
*which, incidentally, is what all TV producers say when confronted about this
With a sly smile on your lips you leaned down to look through the scope. Now all that you had to do was wait for your target to come into view. As you wait you breath in through your nose and out through a small opening in your mouth. You must be calm. Very calm if you want to make this shot. The man walks by the window and it is the perfect shot, but suddenly he is no longer there. You curse at the missed opportunity. Breath in and out.
Your target had been playing this game with you for the past hour and it was getting on your nerves. Although it wasn’t entirely his fault his daughter was in the room chasing him. “Stupid Father, stupid girl.” You whisper under your breath.
If they would just stop playing around you could get this shot and then be able to go home. You just need that kill shot. Breath in and out.
Then like the gods had heard her silent prayer the man came into the view of the window with the girl rapped around his neck. You hesitate. Your orders had been to kill this man not the girl as well. What should you do? The thought rattled around in your brain, but only for a second before you pulled the trigger. Breath in and out.
With all of your training it hadn’t taken you long to scale the building pull out your knife and press it against the vigilante’s back. It had been easy and all that training…
“No don’t think about them Y/n.” You thought.
Instead you whispered “Why are you following me?”
The Red Hood slowly stands up, turns around and looks at you. It is at that moment that you realize that he has two guns strapped to his sides. Mack had warned you that he used guns and why you thought he might be threatened by a punny knife was hilarious to you. Of course if it did come to a fight you could easily get hold of those guns or at least one of them. A gun… you haven’t held one in your hands for…
The post-breakup emotions had washed you clean, there were no more what ifs circling your mind, no more tears flowing, no more breakdowns or questions on what went wrong.
It was all over – so you thought.
It was in the moment that you recognised the familiar head of waves in the same restaurant that you were immersed with all the feelings you thought you left on the bedroom floor, along with with the whisky.
You feel your body go numb, for a moment you can’t even pry your eyes from his figure, his figure bundled in a black coat with a scarf dangling loosely around his neck– The scarf that you brought as a joke because he can never manage to wear scarfs in the correct manner.
You pull yourself away from the trans that he pulled you into, your eyes waving towards your friend in front of you, her wine scraping her lips as she side-eyes Harry. “Thought he was in London.” She murmurs as she makes her gaze further obvious,
“Stop staring. He was in London.” ..“I guess he came back to New York for something.” You shrug, driving the sparkling wine down your throat to satisfy the stinging nerves arising in you as the presence of Harry grows more intense. She rolls her eyes, placing her wine glass down on the table, her bluish-green eyes narrowing down on you, “More like he came back for you.” You shake your head and scoff,. There is no way he flew from London to come to New York right before a snow storm is meant to hit, not to mention he is the one who broke off the relationship. If anything, he is presumably praying that the two of you don’t cross paths.
Imagine convincing Alaric, who you don’t know, to pretend to be your boyfriend when this guy won’t stop looking at you strangely. The guy leaves and you thank Alaric, you leaving a few minutes later, but the guy, who is a vampire, is waiting for you and attacks you and Alaric comes out and defends you. When the vamp is gone he asks you out and you say yes, kissing his cheek and thanking him again.
(Finally another one for all the Alaric girls and guys out there. I hope you enjoy! Happy reading my lovelies)
A pair of eyes stare into your backside, not looking away once. You are currently at the Grill and this creepy stranger, who looks like he has camped out in the Woods for quite some time, keeps staring at you. You don’t know if he’s a vampire eying his prey -which wouldn’t be surprising in your hometown Mystic Falls- or just a creeper who loves to make people uncomfortable. Either way, it does not look like he is leaving anytime soon, so you have to think of something because it is getting pretty late and you would be an easy target if the guy follows you outside.
You look around the Grill in desperate need of finding something or someone to help you get out of here safely. Then suddenly, the ringing sound of the doorbell catches your attention. In walks a guy with dirty blonde hair carrying a fairly big bag. It looks like he is walking towards your direction. Maybe he could help you get out of here? He certainly looks strong enough to kick the creepers ass.
On second thought maybe not. This is Mystic Falls after all. There are vampires lurking around everywhere. Maybe it is best to play on the safe side and verbally ask the new guy to help you. But how could you ask him? This is not something you ever asked someone, at least not in this setting. And what would you say anyway?
Well, there’s no more time to contemplate anymore because the guy almost reached the bar. Here it goes…
Katsuki paced back and forth by the emergency medical tent that had been set up. No one who wasn’t search and rescue was allowed near the rubble of the collapsed building. He so desperately wanted to dive in to help, but he knew that there was nothing he could do at this point.
He spotted Kouda directing and entire pack of rescue dogs as they picked over the rubble in search of survivors. For many tense minutes, there was no indication of any survivors until one of the dogs began barking and pawing at a slab of concrete and steel. Katsuki watched the others carefully race over, and the slow extraction of building pieces began.
Nothing. No indication of movement. Katsuki’s shoulders tensed.
A first responder tried to treat the cuts on his arms and face, but he impatiently batted them away, “go treat someone who’s actually fucking injured.”
A large piece of wall shifted and suddenly, there was commotion and shouting. Then movement. A slab of brick, steel beams and drywall lifted.
Deku stood beneath it, holding it up, and huddled around him, fifteen people blinked into the light. Deku hefted the slab.
“Go! Move!” he ordered. The civilians moved slowly at first, disbelieving that they were alive. The other heroes and medics helped them away. Deku glanced at the other heroes. They swarmed around him and took the wall he was holding and moved it away from the rest of the rubble.
Once Deku was free of his burden, he moved away to allow search and rescue to continue their work. Katsuki rushed forward and slapped his hands onto Deku’s cheeks.
“What the fuck were you thinking?! You-you could have -”
He couldn’t get the words out.
“Yeah well,” Deku started with a shrug. There was plaster dust in his hair and caked on his face. “I just like proving you wrong.”
Katsuki had never wanted to hit him more in his life.
this is going to be part of a longer post episode 7 fic but im posting it now because every time i think about jughead crying in the interrogation room without writing about it i lose a year off my life
west of memphis characters: archie, jughead words: 1212
Tuesday he sits down and mutilates his school notebooks, using a heavy pair of red kitchen scissors to take out any strange doodles, any negative words, any pencilled song lyrics that are less than cheerful. His hands shake as he does it, as the HATE and BORED and I WANT THE ONE I CANT HAVE litter the ground around him like snow, spreading out in a semi-circle as he goes further and further back through everything and anything that can be used to incriminate him.