corner speaker

What I do when assholes make unnecessary comments on my fluency and language learning skills


me: *in my schloss, bathing in my diploma, fluency certification and years of hard-earned awards, sipping on a nice Riesling, reading Goethe’s Faust, not giving a fuck. An audio of Wagner’s Siegfried plays on a gramophone in the corner.*

It Worked

Originally posted by superherofeed

Request: Barry overhears you talking with Caitlin one day about how hot Oliver Queen is so he tries to impersonate him. But when that doesn’t work he starts making fun of him and the reader is really confused until Cisco explains it to them.

Notes: Again, from my old blog

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For a substantially harmful period of time the ‘woman’ within Indian women’s movement remained anonymous; her social locations of caste/class/religion/ethnicity were seen as rather unnecessary because all Indian women are ‘sisters linked to each other by the sole reality of patriarchal oppression’. … More than often this ‘woman’ turned out to be urban, middle class if not rich and most importantly English speaking. This ‘caste unmarked woman’ represented and thereby crushed the voices of village women, poor women, dalit women, adivasi women, OBC women and marginalized Muslim women who came from a political orientation that necessitated the naming of one’s social location. Dismayed by non-representation and suffocation within the mainstream women’s movement led by upper-caste/savarna women, feminists from an anti-caste women’s perspective raised an alarm about the privileges enjoyed by savarna feminists and finally walked away to form their own associations. NDAWC 2013 can be traced back to these historical events and located within this anti-caste framework which necessitates the ‘politics of location’ as it moved out of the umbrella of oppressive sisterhood.

Many people were intrigued by the need for organizing separately for Dalit/Adivasi women, questions like how would it contribute to the betterment of women and what after the congress, and where will it lead to, flooded minds of many peoples. However, the congress was not just a meeting of dalit/adivasi and representatives from Muslim and OBC communities with concern for an anti-caste agenda but it was a socio-political act. While the congress denied agency of privileged (read upper-caste) feminists and men to speak for Dalit/ Adivasi women it was a space for asserting and reclaiming the anti-caste feminist legacy of Savitribai and Jotiba, Ramabai and Ambedkar, Birsa Munda, Periyar within the women’s movement. It was also a platform to forge solidarity and strengthen the fight against intersectional realities of caste and patriarchy.

In academics one is always expected to be presenting something in conferences and be the speaker, whether we have substance or not- we are privileged only because we are ‘educated’. But here was a chance to ‘listen’ to the women- the real women who are living out the reality of caste, patriarchy and various forms of domination every minute and fighting against it, putting up resistance to it every minute. The congress was a conflux of poets, activists, professionals, journalists, academicians and students from villages and cities from all corners of India. The speakers filled the heart with many emotions–rage, frustration, power and strength and most of all hope. The dream of annihilation of caste is many times shattered in India, which drives many of us hopeless at certain moments. This dream of a caste-free and gender equal India becomes blurry with agitation that trickles down as tears when we read and hear stories of men, women and children who suffer the agonies of caste and patriarchy. However, the speakers nurtured the eternal flame of ‘Hope’- for a better society through their stories of struggles and successes.

—  Prachi Patil || “Reflections on the National Dalit and
Adivasi Women’s Congress” (2013)

Hiatus Kaiyote - Borderline with My Atoms (Live at The Corner)

Melt into the other world
He saw my eyes turn gold and reptile
I dream tonight bare and baptised, bear and baptised,
Coyote bones flex the muscle of animal spirit old
A bond so simple
Borderline with my atoms borderline with my atoms borderline with my atoms borderline in time it alkalines
After the coal has settled deep beneath ash resting quiet as silk the remedy tampers the willing
A ripe submergence of the highest order no borders
After the coal has settled deep beneath ash resting quiet as silk the remedy tampers the willing
A ripe submergence of the highest order
No borders
Borderline with my atoms borderline with my atoms borderline with my atoms borderline with my atoms

Jimin Scenario: Firebomb.

The Costume Party Series

Genre: Fluff.

Jimin ran like a mad man down the streets. One corner, then another. A  turn to the right, another square down and he could finally spot it, the old big theater every single person was talking about because of the party being held there. Everybody who was a somebody was there, he couldn’t just miss it, not even because his bus decided to break down halfway and the cabs were not stopping no matter how many signs he did towards them, so he decided to walk even though he was late, he was oh so late and his friends were waiting for him, his phone already had god knows how many messages and they would probably be really mad by the moment.

Scratch that, Jimin thought to himself after spotting his best friend Taehyung near the entrance with an annoyed expression on his face, he was definitely mad.

Words of apologies and the entirety of the unfortunate events that leaved Jimin running late to the party were already pooling at the tip of his mouth ready to be spoken to Taehyung but the moment the other saw Jimin, the frown on his face turned to honest amusement. Taehyung bent forward, arm tightly holding his stomach while he laughed his soul out.

-I knew you were going to pick a costume of that sort Jimin, oh my god! - Taehyung was choking in laughter -This almost, almost makes it up for me waiting for you and standing at this freaking entrance for over thirty minutes-

Jimin stared at his best friend with bewildered eyes, panting and resting his palms on his knees while gasping for air. The people gathering around the entrance was starting to stare at them but Taehyung didn’t seem to mind at all and he only laughed harder.

-What is wrong with my costume? - Jimin asked with a frown, Taehyung was wiping a few tears from his eyes. -I’m really proud of it-

-Of course you are- Taehyung answered back, taking a few shaky breaths, calming down from the outburst, and eyed Jimin from head to toe.

The boy was dressed as a firefighter, and what made Taehyung almost choke wasn’t the black uniform with fluorescent yellow stripes, nor the Timberlands he used as boots, nor the  bright yellow helmet on Jimin’s head; but actually the fact that Jimin was wearing the upper part of his uniform opened enough to catch a glimpse of his well toned abs. 

-Jimin that’s… smooth- he said with a cheeky tone, laughing a little bit more.

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princesspeepo  asked:

that bunnyribbit deaf dva story... why would you hurt me like this........ please.... give me something soft to heal my pain..........

Okay look, I told myself again and again that I was just going to leave it at that but h*cking bunnyribbit doesn’t deserve this pain. This is all my fault, goodness. So here’s something soft to heal the pain just a little bit, <3

Something’s Missing (Something’s Wrong: Part 2)

BunnyRibbit. Angst. Blood. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. 

She has lost all of it. Her courage. Her determination. Her strength.

Her hearing. is sobbing into his shirt. Her lungs heave and her throat closes but she doesn’t even know if her sobbing is loud or quiet.        

The hospital bed is rough, but he lays with her anyways. Her head wrapped in bandages that quickly turn red. Ana and Lucio routinely check her eardrums. From what they’ve written to her on a notebook that still rests on the nearby dresser, her eardrums are just shattered. Ruptured was the termed use.

Just wait for Mercy to get back. She’ll take care of you. Two weeks. You can make it until then.

Her only hope is gone to negotiate deals with the U.N. What amazing timing, right? Even when Mercy gets back, that doesn’t mean that’s an instant fix for her. Ana warned that there might not be anything Mercy can do. The damage from what little they can see… its bad.

Lucio grew angry at Ana.’s pretty sure he screamed at her before she left with a soft gaze on her and Lucio.

He tried to hide his trembling, but she can feel it against her skin. She almost tried to whisper comfort, tried to call him her yobo…

The grenade took so much from her.  They said she’s lucky it didn’t just kill her.

A part of her wish it had.

It only left minor wounds across her body. Lucio explained that the blast completely threw her and she landed on her back. He confessed he thought she was dead at first.

Her fists bunch tighter against his skirt. Her eyes using the cloth as a tissue to wipe the tears off of. Lucio remains quiet… Quiet.

Something’s missing.

He doesn’t try to communicate with her. His arms simply wrap around her shoulders as she loses it. He tried to talk to her at first, but it was useless. She can’t read lips. She doesn’t understand half the gestures everyone was using. That stupid notebook is her only way of allowing anyone to talk to her.

It’s been two days and already she doesn’t bother talking anymore. It’s too unsettling to feel her lips and mouth move only to not know the results of what she said. When she wrote out the question, Lucio told her she sounded like she was drunk. He tried to smile at that, he really did.

She pulls away from his chest, and she feels his arms loosen. She blinks, wiping her fists against her cheeks. Then, she slowly looks up at him. He watches her carefully, waiting to see what she needs.

They used to spend their free time on the couch. Trying to fit in a nap before the next mission whisked them away. Lucio always brought his headphones, and they would fell asleep with one bud in their ears. Always sharing the music, warmth and heartbeats of each other. She used to lay her head against his chest, right where his heart reside. The sound used to beat along with whatever music was playing, always in tune.  

His music will never be known to her ever again. She won’t be able to dance to it. Video game battles will be less exciting in dead silence. Yes, she can still play her games… but it won’t ever be the same.

How is she going to stream her videos anymore? How will she entertain people while sounding as if she were intoxicated? Will video games even be worth it anymore?

Her entire world is shifted. Her life is changed for an eternity. Her ears are leaving her alone in crushing silence. The absence of one sense.

Something’s missing.

Her body knows this. Her mind is still trying to comprehend it. She can’t even acknowledge what she is now.

She twitches her lips, and Lucio immediately reaches over and grabs the notebook, holding it out to her with the red pen.

She takes the items with trembling fingers. Her nails turning white from the pressure she’s exerting on the pen.

I can’t do this.

She quickly crosses it out. Stalling while sneaking glances at him as he watches her.

I don’t know how I’m doing to make it.

It’s crossed out as well. She wants to be strong. She wants to unbreakable.

But it’s impossible to strengthen an already broken thing.

She stops, feeling another tear swell over and spill on the bridge of the nose. She’s been laying down for so long. What else can she do?

She twists the pen, then writes again. This sentence finally being revealed to Lucio.

I can’t hear your music anymore.

His eyes read it quickly, before focusing back on her. She waits for the same broken expression he gave her after they got her on the airship. Instead, he smiles.

He sits up, carefully tugging at her hand. She hesitates, looking at him but allows him to get her off the bed. He sets aside the notebook, before slipping his arm through hers. Her steps are steady, but Lucio guides her carefully through the infirmary doors. She all too conscious of the ridiculous hospital gown and the giant bandage wrapped around her head. Lucio only holds her tighter, moving her back to where his room lies.

The movement, the traveling. There should be footsteps echoing. There should be the light sounds of breathing. The scuffing of her shoes against the clean tile.

Something’s missing.

He opens the door to his room, pulling her inside. With a reassuring smile, he stops and faces her. His hands move to hold her arms just above the elbows. Her eyes travel over his living space as they stand in the center of the room. His makeshift recording studio is spilled over in a corner desk. Several large speakers decorate the area. She looks back at him, taking in his calm but reassuring expression. Confusion fills her mind. Unsure of what he wishes to show her.

He slides his fingers down to her hands, squeezes them reassuringly. Letting go, he puts the palm of his hands up as he backs away. His lips mouthing words that she soon figures to be ‘stay here’.

Her arms immediately wrap around her torso. Feeling much too small while looking around. Her ears lets off waves of pain.

Something’s missing.

Blinking quickly, the mute darkness scaring her, she instead focuses on Lucio. He moves quickly, messing around over his computer. A frown settles on her lips.

He wouldn’t play music, right? He wouldn’t hurt her like that.

He taps away at the keyboard, before straightening up with a wide smile. He comes back to her, a soft but hopeful expression on his face. Taking her hands gently, he guides her to one of the large speakers.  

She jerks her hands away from his grasp. His startle expression engulfs his face as she steps back. She almost got too close to the speaker. Her brow narrows, her head shaking slightly as she stares pointedly at him.

Why is he doing this to her? Why would he throw what she’s lost back in her face?

His brow raises when he takes in her face. Whipping his head around, he then rushes back to his computer, and presses a button.

The speaker just a few feet away from her starts moving. The circular piece inside pulsating with a beat that she can’t hear. Her feet shift as she gets ready to run. Biting her lip as she fights tears, he comes back to her.

He goes to the speaker, which stands tall on the desk. He places his hands over it, looking up at her as he does this. His head tilting slightly towards his actions, lips mouthing ‘see’?

She knows he would never do anything to hurt her, but she still hesitates. He waits patiently, but she eventually steps closer. When they stand hip to hip, he takes her hands, then places them over the speakers.

Her fingers take in the rumbling of the music that her ears don’t detect. The vibrations telling her the beat of the song. It shakes and trembles but she feels it all. Her skin taking in the music. Her bones understanding the tune.

She jerks her head up to Lucio, lips parting in surprise. Blood still leaks from her ear canals, her head still aches with dull pain but he makes it all fade away. This boy who kisses her even though she’s damaged.

Moving her hands from the speaker, she faces him. Her fingers reach out and trace along the collar of his shirt before he understands what she wants. Quickly, he pulls his shirt off, and stands even closer to her.

Slowly, still afraid of what she won’t find, she places her palm over his bare dark skin. Right over his heart. His own hands move and cup her cheeks. His fingers gently holding her face.

She doesn’t hear it, no, but she feels the strong pounding of his heart. The beating that’s always harmonized with her own. The surety and strength that she’s fallen for. The promise that, no matter what, it will turn out okay.

It takes some time, but her eyes slowly crawl up his body to stare into his eyes. His own careful gaze looks back. His fingers brushing against her skin.

For the first time since the accident, she tugs her lips into a smile. His own shines through in reaction to hers, like the sun parting through dark clouds.

Something’s missing.

But he fills the holes that decorate her soul.

Pillow Talk, Clown Haunts

Thought I’d try my hand at a lapidot Halloween-based story in honor of October, in the form of a horror-comedy, very light on horror.

Summary: Lapis is stuck at an airport at 5 am and rumors of one of those freaky clowns in the area abounds, she comes back to a stranger, Peridot, sleeping on her pillow. They go from there.


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Daddy’s Home

Okay guys so this is my very first fanfic ever…. It’s a Liam fic and I’m really proud of it! Hopefully you like it too :) I’m gonna try to write more of these since I am a writer and these really get my creative juices flowing. This one’s about hubby Liam surprising you by coming home from tour a lil early ;))) 

WARNING: smut. 

You didn’t come on tour often. You missed Liam whenever he was away but it’s hard toting a two year old around the globe. Especially since you found out that your family was growing. After your Barcelona visit a few months ago, you were pregnant with baby number two. The morning sickness was making it uncomfortable to fly and more than anything you just wanted to stay home and nest in your first trimester.

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The True Face of the Revolt

What We’re Getting Wrong About Baltimore

By Natalie Keyssar

I got to Baltimore on Tuesday afternoon, 10 days after Freddie Gray died. On my way here, reports of rioting, violence, tear gas and clashes were all over the TV and radio.

But I walked to the corner of North Ave. and Pennsylvania in bright spring sunshine, amid jazz music, thoughtful conversations, dancing, and clapping.

Small children were everywhere underfoot. Words like justice, peace, and nonviolence were on everyone’s lips.

People helped to clean up the burned-out CVS on the corner. Speakers insisted on respect for the curfew, and condemned the chaos of the night before.

For about 23½ hours a day since I’ve been here, I’ve seen nothing but peaceful protest.

At the end of Tuesday night, over cries for calm and the best efforts of community organizers to keep the peace, a very small group of protesters threw some things — mostly plastic water bottles at police — and they eventually responded with rubber bullets and tear gas to clear the streets.

But I was honestly surprised they did, because at that point the media easily outnumbered protesters 3-to-1.

Turning on network news in my hotel room, I see the same loops of these brief moments of violence over and over, with the name of the city plastered across images of fire and mayhem.

Yes, these things happened. Yes, they are important. Yes, at night there has been a little bit of violence. And yes, it’s a response to violence — so violence is a big part of this story. And yes, that’s why the eyes of the world are on these issues, to a certain extent.

But mostly I’ve been photographing children holding flowers, women dancing and waving flags, church groups, young men with thought-provoking homemade signs, permitted marches, and a resounding insistence on calm from community leaders.

I have covered many protests, including in Ferguson last summer, and the response to Eric Garner’s death in New York City. I have never seen a protest movement where the community was so angry with the media.

At night, as we converge at North and Penn, waiting to see if violence will break out, community leaders beg for the media to go home. Furious protesters rage against parachute journalism, and ask why we’re spreading lies about them. Turning on the news, I can understand why.

To me, these photos are what the Baltimore protests actually look like: a community that is taking a stand peacefully and gracefully, after a moment of protest-related violence. And what many here say is a lifetime of violence by the state.

Source has additional photographs that enhance the message of the article:-

Hey 1DHQ, more private areas of London if you need any suggestions
  • Speakers’ Corner, Hyde Park
  • Diana’s memorial, Harrods
  • Stables Market, Camden Town
  • Oxford Circus 
  • Leicester Square, during a movie premiere

MEET & GREET! Submit your meet-and-greet stories to They are posted throughout the week.

Me, my friend Abby, and my cousin Nina went to see Austin Jones, 7 minutes in heaven, the resolution, the millenium, etc. on the cool kids with camp fires tour. We went to the one in Cleveland and we got there early to eat since it was a very long drive and we wouldn’t let our parents stop to eat XD. So we parked and we saw 7mih and kyle unloading things from the bus. We were freaking out in the car and we think that kyle heard because he was like staring at us… Anyways, we got out of the car and took pictures with all of them. Then, we waited outside in like -4 degree weather until we got inside. We watched all the bands preform and got merch in between shows. We talked to kyle and got quite a lot of pictures with him. Then at the end of the whole show we got to finally take a picture with Austin and had him sign some things. While Austin was performing we were sure to get right to the front. While they took the picture you could see all of us in the corner by the speakers. My friend Abby wanted Austin to sign something and gave him the paper. Austin thought it was fan art so he took a blank piece of paper from her and she just walked away XD. We also couldn’t believe how many people shouted things like ‘you make me moist’ and stuff to Austin while he was performing. I was glad to get Austin doing his dolphin noise on stage also. We all agreed that it was the best night of our lives and we very appreciate that Austin and kyle put up with us the whole night.

It Worked

Originally posted by deanskitten

Request: Barry overhears you talking with Caitlin one day about how hot Oliver Queen is so he tries to impersonate him. But when that doesn’t work he starts making fun of him and the reader is really confused until Cisco explains it to them.

A/N: Hey! I loved this request, I was planning to get it uploaded earlier but just got it finished so yeah. I hope you like it! Ask box for one-shots and drabble games are open!

“Come on, Caitlin. Oliver Queen is definitely hot.” Caitlin sighs at you, giving you a small smile before conceding.

“Fine, I’ll admit it, Oliver is hot.” You smile at Caitlin, proud of yourself that you got her to admit it.

“I know right? I mean come on, brains, brawn, and beauty plus the whole vigilante thing just kind of adds to it, you know?” Caitlin sighs at you once again, before giving a small laugh.

“Y/N you could go on about Oliver for hours, couldn’t you?”

“Ummm….possibly yeah.”

Caitlin tells you she has to go, and as you say goodbye, the smallest sigh of hopelessness can be heard from around the corner. The speaker of the sigh is none other than Barry Allen, aka The Flash. The reason for the sigh? Barry really liked you, and overhearing you go on about Oliver like that doesn’t do much for his confidence in trying to ask you out.

Later that afternoon, Barry worked out the perfect plan, or so he thought. In order to get your attention, he’d do what he thought necessary: acting like Oliver Queen. It seemed perfect, Barry thought you liked Oliver, and he liked you, so if he acted more like Oliver, it’s bound for you to notice, right?

Barry got to work on his plan, setting up a salmon ladder in the training room, buying new sets of clothes, and trying to stray away from his awkward tendencies and be more suave like Oliver. The next time he saw you, he tried to make sure that everything was perfect. As a member of team Flash, being Barry’s trainer and physical therapist, you were around Star Labs a lot. Barry was in the cortex when you walked in, tapping on your tablet as you were reading an article and making notes on how it could help Barry.

“Hey Y/N.” Barry catches your attention, and you see him leaning against the counter, looking slightly awkward as he does so. You look over him for a minute, noticing that his usual sweater is gone, replaced by a preppy button down, and his regular jeans are forgone in favor of dress slacks. You weren’t going to lie, he looked good, but not like himself.

“Hey Barry.” You reply with a smile, which Barry returns before getting up and moving to stand behind you as you sit down, reading the article over your shoulder.

“Y/N I don’t understand what any of this means.”

“It’s just the science behind the mechanics of running. It’s really cool, actually.” Suddenly your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you quickly check it before turning around to face Barry.

“Time for training, you ready?”

“Always.” You and Barry go to the training room, and you busy yourself while he changes (you’re already dressed for the occasion). He comes back out in his regular sport clothes, and you make him do a regular warm up to watch his form.

“Okay, warm up done. We could do leg exercises, running, you can go full out and see where you’re missing marks…” you trail off as you take a few steps to get your tablet.

“Actually, Y/N, I was thinking we could do something different.” Barry cuts you off as he starts walking towards the back of the area, motioning for you to come along with him. “I read this one article, and it said that runners who can use their arms can do better, or something like that. We never really work on arm speed or strength or anything, so maybe we could do that today instead.” Barry finishes as he stops, and turns to face you again. You glance above his head behind him and see that there’s a salmon ladder, which hadn’t been there yesterday.

“Salmon ladder…interesting. Oliver does that a lot. Go for it.” You say as you start typing on your tablet, pulling up the camera to record Barry and look at his form later. He gets the first few rungs okay, but when he looks over to you and gets distracted for a moment, he misses one of the sides and falls on the mat underneath him. You put down your tablet and go over to help him get up, and once he is you poke and prod at him to make sure everything is in order.

After working out a small kink in his back, you and Barry sit down at one of the bigger computers and pull up the video of him doing the ladder. You also pull up a video of Oliver on the ladder, credits to Felicity. For the next while, you and Barry go over the tapes, reviewing Barry’s form and where he needs work. At one point, Barry catches you looking at the computer screen a little too long, your eyes lingering on Oliver for a second longer. You and Barry quickly wrap up, and decide to work on the salmon ladder tomorrow.

You go back to the Cortex, sitting in a rolly chair with your feet propped up on the counter in front of you. You’re playing a game on your tablet when Barry walks back in, dressed again in his new preppy outfit.

“What’s with the outfit, Barr?”

“Just thought I’d try something new. A guy can’t wear sweaters all the time.”

“Ah okay. It’s odd it reminds me so much of someone I know, I just can’t put a name on it.” Barry chuckles slightly before saying he has to go, and you turn back to the computers as he leaves, saying hi to Caitlin as she walks in right after Barry leaves.

“Oliver!” You yell suddenly with a grin on your face, to which Caitlin looks confused and vaguely scared by your outburst.

“I was trying to remember something; Barry was acting a little weird today, he was dressing differently and wanted to do the salmon ladder for some reason and it reminded me so much of someone,I just realized it was Oliver.” You explain, and Caitlin’s look turns to understanding. You tell Caitlin a little more about what you and Barry did during training, as you were supposed to, but you threw in a few more details about Oliver (especially how he looked doing the salmon ladder).

Unknown to you, Barry was still in earshot, and he heard most of what you said about Oliver. He left then, thinking about what happened. Obviously acting like Oliver only made you think of him more, so what could Barry do to make you think less of Oliver? Make fun of him, of course.

Sure, you may talk a lot about Oliver, but do you like him like that? Not at all. He’s a great friend, but just not your type. Your type included guys more along the lines of Barry Allen. Including Barry Allen. There was something about Barry That was so amazing, plus the added bonus of being his trainer/PT is you got to see him shirtless a lot. But you couldn’t let other people know you thought that. Not until you knew that Barry felt the same way, if he even did.


When Barry came back a few hours later, his preppy Oliver-esque outfit gone, replaced now by his regular clothes; jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater.

“Hey Barry,” you say when you notice him. “Looking more like yourself. I finally remembered who the clothes reminded me of, it was Oliver.”

“Yeah my clothes were kind of bugging me. I don’t know how he does it all the time. I mean, they just get so uncomfortable. I don’t even understand why he needs to be so dressy all the time. Doesn’t he own a single t-shirt?”

“Well, I mean, I can see why he does it. It’s kind of how he grew up, plus he does look killer in a suit. Not that you don’t, but you just never wear suits.” You trail off, your voice becoming quieter as you speak, turning back to your computer to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. Barry takes the chair next to you, appearing not to have heard what you said, and continues to talk.

“It’s kind of funny, right? I mean, when’s the last time you ever saw him wearing something that wasn’t dressy? It seems as though he tries too hard sometimes, doesn’t it? And all the arm things? Come on, nobody needs to use their arms that much.”

“Well, he is an archer, Barr.” You say as you turn to face him, now very confused. Earlier today it seemed that he wanted to be more like Oliver, and now he was poking fun at him. You got a text from Caitlin then, asking you to meet to go over something.

“Cisco’s coming in a minute,” she says when you arrive. “We wanted to go over a test we took a few days ago and could use your advice.” You nod, still thinking about Barry and how he’s acting weird. “Hey, are you okay?” Caitlin asks once she notices your distant expression.

“Yeah, it’s just Barry. He’s acting kind of weird today.”

“How so?” You turn your head to see Cisco enter, holding a soda. The three of you sit down at the table in front of you, and as Cisco and Caitlin pull up the data, you explain what happened.

“So today Barry showed up in a weird outfit. It was all dressy, even the shoes. Completely unlike him, more like Oliver to be honest. So then we do training as usual, and he asks if he can do a salmon ladder. Another thing like Oliver, right? So then he goes off, and he comes back a few minutes ago. And he starts going about how stuff Oliver does is weird. The clothes, the arm workouts, thought it was all crazy. It just strikes me odd how earlier he was acting like Oliver and then he comes back thinking it’s all stupid.” You finish your spiel and look up to see Caitlin and Cisco looking at you like someone would look at a lost puppy.

“Guys…what’s with the looks?” You ask tentatively, not sure if you want to hear the answer. Cisco and Caitlin look at each other, before Cisco sighs and turns back to you.

“Y/N, the thing is, Barry likes you. A lot. The whole Oliver thing was just that he thought you liked Oliver since you talk about him a lot. So he tried to act like Oliver. When that didn’t work he tried to poke fun at him. It was just to get your attention.” Your mouth drops slightly as it dawns upon you and you finally understand. A moment later you drop your head into your hands, sighing to yourself.

“I screwed up.” You say and lift your head, only to see Cisco and Caitlin looking at you again, but more confused this time. “Guys, I like Barry. I only talk about Oliver to cover that up. I should go talk to him.” You get up from the table and make your way back to where you knew Barry was. You make up your mind on what you’re going to do, as you round the corner into the room and walk towards Barry.

“Oh, hey Y/N. I was thinking, maybe you could do some work on my knee later? It’s kind of bothering me and I–” you cut him off when you get close enough, placing your hand around the back of his neck and crashing your lips into his. He reciprocates the kiss, pulling you closer. You pull away a minute later when you have to breathe, and look up at Barry, whose expression reads ecstatic but slightly confused.

“Wow uhh…I…what was that for?” He asks somewhat breathless, running his fingers through his hair.

“I like you too.” You say, and tug on his shirt to pull him in for another kiss. Barry lingers for a moment, but pulls away.

“How’d you…who told you?”

“Cisco. I told him and Caitlin you were acting a little weird. They said it was to get my attention.”

“Did it work?”

“You tell me.” You say with a smirk, and Barry pulls you in for a kiss,which you quickly reciprocate.

“I think it worked.”

i know y'all think you’re super edgy and somehow better fans for not being worried about bts’ health even though they’ve sustained injuries from exhaustion in the past (remember when jimin passed out at a fansign and hit his head on the corner of a speaker? i do) and thats your prerogative but if i see one more post about bts fans being selfish and ungrateful for complaining about the frequency of their comebacks because “xyz group has been on hiatus for ages” im for real going to get some healing crystals and mutter an incantation because some of you have too much evil trapped in your souls


The clock in the front room struck one. One am. This was the  first time I had noticed the clock, the first time I had become aware of it, and now that I had noticed it, the ticking was pounding in my ears.

I was in an upstairs room of a deserted house at one am in the morning trying to win a bet. My friends Robert and Tony had each wagered one hundred quid each on me spending the night here. I had arrived here about an hour ago, after having a few pints in the local bar, and to win the bet  I had to stay here till sunrise, about six hours away. Both my friends were parked outside, listening to the car radio and drinking and generally have a good laugh at my expense, but we would soon see who had the last laugh.

The room I occupied had hardly any furniture; and old bed with a thick drape of cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, almost giving it the impression of a four poster; an old armchair with three legs and a decrepit armchair with horsehair bursting from its seat,but all legs intact, and this is where I would be whiling away the wee hours. There were books scattered all over the floor in various stages of decay, some of the titles legible  in the flickering light from the fire I had burning in the old grate.

I pulled the old chair over beside the fire and covered it with pages I ripped from some of the books and sat down to wait out the night. Unknown to the guys in the car, I had a flask of brandy in my jacket pocket to keep the chill away. And the spooks. Then a warning light lit up in my head! This house had been abandoned for years, maybe even decades, so how the hell was the clock still chiming and ticking? 

I got up and went over to have a closer look at the clock; a big Grandfather clock standing in the corner, and it was no antique. In fact it was brand spanking new, a cheap imitation. Just as I was about to go back to my chair, something glinted in the gloom, caught my eye.I took out my flash light to get a better look, and, woe and behold, I saw a small camera, like one you would put on your desk top for Skyping. “ So this is their game “, I thought, “ well I could play that way too”.So, my head working overtime, I went back to my chair, wondering what else they had in store for me.

I did not have too long to wait!

A loud creaking, like a door that had not been opened in years, assailed my ears. “ What to do? “ I asked myself. I was hoping they had not seen me when I discovered the camera, I wanted to put on a show fro them. A show they would never forget.

Trying not to be too obvious, I got up to “ investigate “ the creaking. Straight off, I spotted the small speaker, a corner of it showing through the tangle of  discarded books, and I was fairly sure I had exposed it myself when ripping out pages to cover my chair. I steered myself away from the speaker, and I could see a wire, snaking along the wall and disappearing out the room door. They had done a good job and if I had not noticed the camera earlier, I would never have found the speaker and would more than likely be racing down the stairs and out into the arms of my laughing comrades.

Another though struck me; they were inside the house.Robert and Tony were inside the house! They had to be! Or else they had a mile of speaker cable with them. No, they were inside somewhere, watch me on their lap-top. As this little piece of information  was being digested,  I realized I was now in a position to turn the tables on them.

There was piece of old rope in the corner. I gathered up the rope and fastened it into a noose, pulled the chair into the center of the room and reached up and tied the other end of the rope to the rickety light fixture. I knew by looking at this that it would fall, break off, with only a slight pull, there was no way it could take all my weight. Taking care to make sure the camera would record my every action, I stood on the hair and placed the noose around my neck.

Surely this was the cue for Robert and Tony to come scampering up the stairs and save me from self destruction, rescue me from myself. My ears were straining, listening for the sound of scampering and pounding feet on the stairway. But no! Nothing! Not a sound.

“ Okay “ I thought, “ lets bring it a step further “. I kicked the chair out from under my feet, and for the longest few seconds of my life, I thought the light fixture  was going to hold my weight. And  then I was falling. As soon as I hit the ground I rolled, the light fixture crashing into the ground where my head had been only a fraction of a second earlier, and immediately began chiding myself for carrying out this dangerous prank .

Still no sign of my companions, I switched on my torch and began to trace the cable down to its point of origin. Across the upstairs hall, down the creaky stairs, brushing cobwebs from my hair, shivers working their way down my back. Still following the cable, along the downstairs hallway to a door beneath the stairs. I pulled the door open.Fast! Hoping to scare the daylights out of my friends. But instead I found myself looking down another stairway, this one of stone.

A rank, reeking stench assailed my nose, my eyes started to leak water, there was a putrid, foul gas in the air, the stink of death, mingled with the noxious fumes of ammonia.I could see the cable clearly now, no need to conceal it down here. I called out to them.

“ Robert! Tony! “. No answer. Again, “ Robert! Tony!”. Again, silence met my frantic calls. I took my first tentative step into that foul hole. First one cold stone step, then another. With each step the temperature fell, though sweat was rolling down my spine and standing out on my forehead.

I reached the bottom, shone my torch around and almost bolted at once.

Robert was swinging from a rafter that travailed the whole length of the cellar, his eyes bulging, his face a dark purple, froth dripping, froth that was more blood than froth, dripping  from his open mouth. I swung the torch around, and there was Tony, propped up in the corner like a mannequin, his eyes staring blindly at some spot above my head, and, where his mouth should have been, a gaping smile spread across his entire face, slashed the whole way across, his lower lip and teeth, resting on his blood soaked chest.

I turned  and ran. I don’t know how long I could have been down there, for five minutes or five seconds. I was not sure which. I just ran.

Today I woke up and immediately started screaming and shouting, crying for my friends. They sedated me. Put me in one of those jackets that ties at the back.

And no one believes me when I tell them what happened.
All I know is I woke up in a hospital. Not a normal hospital; an asylum. They tell me I have been here for over five years. They say I killed my two best friends. They tell me I am evil incarnate. They say I will never be released, such was the savagery of my crime.

But you know better! You know the truth!

You must go to the Police, to the doctors and tell them all you know.

Only then can I be released.

Scattered Thoughts.