corkboard wall

No More Secrets

The Clash was playing. She had no idea why she was listening to them, but Jonathan had made her a mix tape. ‘For Christmas,’ he’d said, when he’d handed her the cassette on New Year’s Eve. They’d gone to the Byers’, her and Mike - to get away from home, at their mom’s insistence.

That had been an odd conversation. Nancy’s mom had seemed torn at the prospect, but she had reiterated over and over that Mike 'needed to get out of the house,’ and 'be around friends.’

Nancy hadn’t wanted to go out. For the first time in a while, all she’d wanted was to be alone. To curl up on her bed and drown herself out with classic pop hits her father despised. She wanted to cry.

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anonymous asked:

Fic Request: "Who do you think taught Mazikeen?"

MY DAY HAS COME. I’ve had this headcanon for so long and I’m so excited to finally write something about it!



Having to call Maze into the office was always a little chaotic for the rest of the staff.

Most of the other officers had seen, or at least heard, about her in action and they usually parted like the Red Sea wherever she went. So of course it made perfect sense that Dan and Chloe were the ones to keep an eye on her. Not Lucifer, no why would Olivia send Maze’s friend to look after Maze?

Actually, Lucifer was supposed to be here, but for whatever reason was running late. His nasally voice filled Dan’s head and corrected him: five reasons, douche.

Even in Dan’s head the guy was still an asshole.

He sighed and leaned against the wall of the precinct’s gym. Chloe stood next to him. They both watched Maze be well…Maze.

She had her crescent-shaped blades in hand and was going through a series of impossible positions before flinging them into the corkboard on the far wall. Each time, the curved blades sang through the air and buried themselves in the direct center, one right after the other. And each time Maze would stalk up, rip them out, and start again.

“Who do you think taught Maze how to fight?” Dan wondered aloud.

In the corner of his eye he saw Chloe shrug.

“It’s probably better that we don’t know.”

As if making the point, another thump of a blade hitting the board rang through the room. Dan resisted a cringe.

If she wanted to, Maze could break him into pieces. Very painful, very tiny pieces. If she was feeling particularly in a mood, she would probably throw said pieces into the ocean and clean up all evidence of the metaphorical murder with ease.

Dan gulped.

“Yeah…”

A door opening drew their attention away from the bounty hunter and to the door on the right.

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Someone To Lean On

Original request from my babe @gcneral-organa​ -  Hi I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could request a fic? Pietro Maximoff taking care of sick insecure reader? And it’s a little personal but by sick I was hoping you could do like serious-illness-handicapped-chronic-pain-and-not-going-away-anytime soon? If you’re not comfortable with this that’s perfectly okay, I know it’s a weird topic. Pretty please could it end fluffy though? Also could I be put on your tag list if it’s not too much trouble? I love your writing!

A/N: YEs okay, it’s ur friendly neighborhood fic writer coming at you from “It’s Nearly 3am and I Should Be In Bed But I Aint” and ur watching me slowly crumble into the abyss. No, jk. I finally got that last jolt of inspiration I needed to finish this, I’m really sorry about how long it took me to finish. (I honestly wish it were longer but oh well) Thank you so much for the information about chronic pain, I hope you like it!!(Not the pain, the fic, sorry, I’m not always good at words)

Pairing: PietroxReader

Word Count: 926

Warnings: None


“(Y/N)?”

Pietro’s voice floats through the hallway and seems to echo in my head, adding to the headache growing behind my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to get up this morning and missed training. Steve or Nat probably sent him to look for me.

“(Y/N), where are you?”

I lay in bed, debating whether or not I should call out and let him know where I am. Just when I decide to let him know, his head appears in my doorway, his expression curious.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” He says pushing his way into the room. “Are you okay?” I shake my head, frowning at the twinge of pain the movement produces. “Where does it hurt?”

“Just… everywhere? I don’t know exactly how to explain it.”

“Can you move?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Would it be alright if I helped you sit up?” I nod and he slowly. He hooks his hands under my arms and gently pulls me up so that I’m sitting up against the headboard of my bed.

“Thank you,” I try to smile at him, but it turns into something closer to a grimace. “What made you come track me down?”

“You never showed up to training today. No one seemed all that concerned, but I was worried, so I figured that I would check up on you to see if you were alright.”

“Thank you, Pietro.”

“It’s no problem, really.” He shakes his head and scratches at the back of his neck. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“I’m not sure,” I restrain myself from shrugging to avoid further pain. “Could I persuade you to get me some advil?”

“Of course, (Y/N).” He says, his voice gentle. “Is there anything else that might help?”

“Maybe a hot water bottle or one of those fabric rice packs that Steve keeps around? You know, the ones you stick in the microwave for a bit? They always seem to hold heat longer than the water bottles.”

Pietro nods. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I watch as he sprints from the room, leaving some of the papers on the corkboard on my wall swaying in the breeze.

As soon as he’s gone, he’s back again, holding a glass of water in one hand and a couple of gel capsules in the other. He helps me sit up enough to take the pain medication and sits on the bed next to me, gently running his hands through my hair.

“The rice pack is in the microwave and I’ll put the water bottle in as soon as it’s done.”

“Thank you, Pietro.” I smile at him genuinely. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“And yet, here I am, the kindest man in the building, taking care of you when you need it.” He jokingly flips his hair out of his face, earning a quiet laugh from me. He turns his soft smile on me, his eyes twinkling and crinkling at the corners. “There is no need to thank me, (Y/N). You needed help and I’m just doing what’s right.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that we’re dating?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.

He gasps dramatically, one hand lifted to his chest.

“The very thought that I would ever take care of you just because I feel that there is a romantic obligation is ridiculous.”

I roll my eyes, a smile sneaking onto my face. “Okay, you’ve made your point.”

“Good,” he kisses my forehead before brushing away a few stray strands of hair. “You’re not a burden, (Y/N). You have a chronic illness. You can’t control it and you deserve to have someone taking care of you.” He tilts his head to the side, hearing something that my own ears can’t pick up on. “That should be the rice pack. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He speeds off again and is back within seconds holding the pack of rice all wrapped up in a dish towel.

“Where do you want me to place it?”

“I… My back actually hurts a lot. Would you mind sitting behind me to keep it in place?”

Once again his expression softens and he nods.

He carefully shifts my body so he can sit behind me on my bed. With my body positioned between his legs, he places the rice pack on his chest and helps me lay back on him so that my spine aligns with the pack. He then reaches around me and pulls up the blankets to cover the two of us.

“Is this alright?”

I nod. “This is perfect, thank you.”

“It’s not a problem, printsessa.” He says quietly and presses a soft kiss into my hair.

“Still,” I let my head fall back so that my forehead is pressed to the side of his neck. “I appreciate it a lot.”

“I’m glad that I could be a help to you.” He rests his cheek against the top of my head and I feel him smile. “It’s not often something that I have the opportunity to do.”

I feel my eyelids growing heavy, which is a relief considering the pain still has yet to subside at all. “You like me in the role of damsel in distress do you?”

“Not all the time, but occasionally, yes.”

“Well then I’m glad I have you around,” I smile at the image of Pietro sat on a horse in a full suit of armor. “My knight in shining armor.”


Thank you guys so much for reading! If you liked the piece, please reply to the post or shoot me an ask! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!!

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RobStar Week, Day 7 - Film Noir

(Wasn’t sure whether or not to completely AU it at first.  I think this is a nice compromise.)

“No exit,” Robin sighed, dropping the cheap plastic blinds over the grungy, grayed-out window.  He turned to Starfire, shaking his head.  "It doesn’t look like there’s another way out.“

"You mean… we cannot simply channel hop as we did the last time Control Freak trapped us inside the land of the television?” she asked, looking worried.  She glanced around the small messy office with its overstuffed desk and lingering small of cigarette smoke.  "This is not a very pleasant place to be stuck,“ she said.

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probably a candid photo taken by another merc (probably dadspy)

anonymous asked:

i hope you realize that whenever you post about writing i picture space junk keith, hidden among heaping stacks of books in the dim light of a computer screen, cackling as they stab gazillions of notes in place with thumbtacks and an endless web of red string

THE MOST ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF ME

anonymous asked:

One of phichit's photography projects had yuuri as the model and the theme was 'beauty' which yuuri didn't get because of his low self-esteem but when they were all up yuuri finally admitted that he actually looked rly good (tho he said it was all due to phichit's skills. Phichit was just shaking his head as yuuri insisted that coz sure he did do a good job but all he had to do was emphasise a few features and yuuri's beauty did the rest. That was phichit's favourite project)

fdsjfgds good ask anon i’m cryin they’re such good friends and they’re both such wonderful people…. GOD 

can you imagine phichit becoming a sports photographer after he retires from figure skating? he’s known for being one of the best in the business, capturing incredible motion shots. yuuri doesn’t mind it when phichit’s the photographer for his exhibition performances. they get to catch up and reminisce and laugh. yuuri still has phichit’s wedding photos framed in his house, the shot from his first dance with victor that captured a look on their face so perfectly and tenderly. 

yuuri takes pictures of phichit with his iphone and they’re blurry and phichit laughs but loves them and has twelve photobooth rolls of him and yuuri making stupid faces on a corkboard on his wall

2

I can’t remember if I already posted pictures of my study desk but I figured I’d do it today because I just cleaned everything off of it. (Yes, it was much more cluttered. Dont be fooled. There’s usually much more stuff and I’ll admit that. I’m only human.)

It’s something of a minor miracle, Derek muses, that fingers that long can fit into such a tiny space. From his perch outside Stiles’ window, he listens as Stiles picks out chords and simple progressions, half-humming a melody as he goes along.

He hadn’t even known Stiles could play the ukulele until five minutes ago, when he caught the sound of the chords floating out from Stiles’ bedroom window like some kind of siren song. And now he’s been here for the better part of five minutes, just watching from the handy perch under said window, mesmerized as Stiles’ sure fingers pick their way across the neck of the ukulele and listening to whatever melody he comes up with. 

Derek wouldn’t say he’s stalling, per se. 

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2

The dress worn by Crown Princess Mary in Australia Women’s Weekly was a custom piece made by designer Alex Perry:

 The Alex Perry dress came down to the wire, Alex had made two custom gowns for our shoot after Judith Cook, The Weekly’s Style Director and I had a fun meeting with him in his East Sydney studio. Alex sits in a room filled with inspiring fabrics, mannequins and gorgeous new season samples. Corkboards line his office walls and are covered with sketches from his newest collections. We talked colour, fabrics and we were all so excited to be working on this very exciting and top secret project. Yellow was our first choice, Alex had thought it would be best to have the colour dyed to our specific colour choice, as it would be too hard to get something ordered internationally in time.

So Alex got to work, he sketched and pinned tulle and lace on to mannequin in front of us to show us what he had in mind. Judith and I both left very excited about what he was about to create. As I left for Denmark some weeks later Alex was still awaiting one of the fabrics to come back so he could whip up his gown fit for a Princess; luckily it arrived in time for his team to drop everything and create a truly stunning gown which our Deputy Editor Juliet Rieden hand delivered to me when she arrived in Copenhagen the day before the shoot. It was such a special moment, as Crown Princess Mary stood in Grand Ballroom wearing the gown with the exquisite tiara and earrings she had worn on her wedding day to Crown Prince Frederik nearly 10 years before.

anonymous asked:

ok but do u think hannibal does toilet paper origami

I went to my in-house origami expert, Mr. Slippy, on this one.  He gave it some serious thought and then said that he believes certain origami could be done reasonably well with toilet paper.  Nothing that relies heavily on pre-creases like the fancier roses, and nothing like a crane that has a lot of structure to it, but he thinks you could perhaps do some simple flowers.  

When I was pestering him about this, he was in the middle of trying to measure to hang up a corkboard on our wall (because he’s making a conspiracy wall, because we’ve both always wanted a conspiracy wall, oh god, we are such dorks, but also I am currently accepting ideas for things to hang on a conspiracy wall.)  So he didn’t have time to try it.  But he says that he thinks maybe a lily would work, and later on tonight he’ll see if he can make a toilet paper lily.  If so, I will report back with photos.

Having established the feasibility, I guess it’s just a question of whether Hannibal would, when he has at least some other sources of paper available (drawing paper, etc.)  I guess it’s a question of whether his supplies were rationed.  If so, then clearly he’s going to save every scrap of real paper for drawing the Graham Cracker Booty, and resort to toilet paper for the origami.

What I think we can all agree on, is that he probably made some sort of obscene origami from the pages of Chilton’s book.

(Mr. Slippy is a little confused by who precisely you all are, but he’s gotten semi-used to me wandering up and prefacing things with, “So, my fandom has a question….”  He’s stopped questioning it, mostly.)

Don't Look Down (Fake AH Crew AU) Chapter One

A/N - Chapter One! :D Again, based off of this headcanon by princesswashington.

Prologue |

 _____

-Chapter One-

Three Years Prior

Geoff had always been a little…Crooked. There’s no denying that. He’s skimped on his taxes on purpose a few times, and he has some mighty sticky fingers, but he’s nothing compared to Burnie Burns and his Cockbite crew. They’re an underground group of criminals pulling off jewelry store robberies, bank heists, and anything else that’ll score them some cash. When he caught wind of this group, Geoff was a little jealous. Sure, he has all the money he’d ever need with his twenty million dollars-a-season pay off, but the thrill, the adventure… Geoff longed for something different in his life, and he knew exactly how to do it.

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