every bag

Rotten Innocence pt. 2 JeromeXreader

http://harleenxvaleska.tumblr.com/post/157588950545/rotten-innocence-pt-1-jeromexreader (part one)


So now here I am, my body aching all over. I feel as if some maniac had strapped me to a bed of nails, attached to a sports car and then zooms over a road littered with speed bumps.

The person dragging me along comes to an abrupt halt and I finally begin to asses me surroundings instead of recollecting the past events of my night.

A hauntingly whimsy circus music fills my ears, combined with an abundance of insane laughter attacking me from every direction.

The black bag closeting my view is then whipped off my head and my eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden burst of light. My sight focuses and now the bizarre noise is accompanied by even stranger sights.

Bundles of people dressed in maniac paraphernalia. I couldn’t look anywhere without seeing a straight jacket or terribly applied make up. The only regularly dressed people seem to be hostages cowering in fear, I wonder if my fate might be same, or worse.

The whole area is littered with outlandish, lary carnival rides and stools. Colours clashing and forming a conflicting atmosphere. My eyes flash to each of the terrible scenes playing before me. There’s no point in trying to run because as I turn my head to the left a man, suitably dressed like the other crazies surrounding us, aims a large, intimidating gun straight at me.

All I can do is stand there and await my fate, while witnessing the torture of so many innocent citizens.

“Beautiful isn’t it” a croaky voice speaks above the laughter and music.

Shivers crawl up my spine and the person the voice belongs to saunters into my view.

He adorns a bright ringmaster’s outfit. His bright traffic light orange hair sticks out every which way, clashing with the red of his suit. His face is wretched, stapled together and decorated with a wicked smile.

Top hat in hand, he stretches his arms out wide, throws his head back and shuts his emerald eyes. Humming along to the circus tune, he lets the madness surrounding him consume him, absorbing it with every fibre in his being.

He exhales deeply, a sigh of pleasure at his creation. The man clears his throat, rolling his neck as he does so.

“Music to my ears” he announces, I’m not sure if he’s talking to himself or to me. Either way, I don’t want to respond.

His eyes flicker open once more, landing straight on me. The green gaze that I had the displeasure of seeing only once before. A year ago at a charity gala.

I know exactly who he is.

Jerome Valeska.

The boy who slaughtered his mother, taunted and teased Gotham for a few months before being punctured in the neck and promptly dying.

He’s back.Rising from the flames of a brainwashed cult like a satanic, maniacal phoenix.

“What do you want with me?” I grit through my teeth. Disgust filling my veins at his presence.

“Wow” he rolls his eyes, walking further towards me “nice to see you too Y/N”

One of his hands slithers up and grabs my face, squeezing my cheeks roughly. I try to avoid eye contact but his face swivels like a snake every time I try to pull mine away.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it, sweetheart” he croaks.

Listening to his voice now, it seems different. Deeper and more breathy. Darker and more menacing.

He plants an unwanted kiss on my cheek, his lips smudging against my skin. He pulls his lips and hand away, smiling broadly and licking his lips at my pure detestation. With a cheeky flair, he flicks on his top hat, concealing his orange locks.

“I said, what do you want with me?” I ask once more, spitting each word out as my anger rises.

“Y/N Gordon, feisty as ever” he grins.

He spots the disgust on my face and his smile drops “fine, what I want from you is a little thing called friendship”

Jerome’s arm slithers around my shoulders and goosebumps cascade across my body.

“A companion, a partner in crime” he explains, stretching out his second arm. Then, I feel the second hand rest against the side of my face, turning my head towards his gaze.

“Maybe even more” he winks.

“In your dreams” I spit in retaliation. He frowns for a second and then his startling smiles forms once again.

“I thought we’d have a few issues but, over time, they’ll be fixed” Jerome smirks

“Why me?” I question, narrowing my eyes as he removes his arm from my shoulder and stands in front of my view.

“Oh c'mon, I thought you were smart. Who better to be my hostage than detective Gordon’s innocent little angel, it’s not a toughie” he explains, his eyes never leaving mine, yet his body seems to flounce around the place.

A stubby looking man, dressed like a deranged clown, nervously taps Jerome on the shoulder.

“What.” Jerome turns to the man with a disapproving expression.

The clown whispers something in Jerome’s ear and by the way Jerome’s smile grows even more darker and menacing I can tell it’s not good news for me or any other innocents.

5

some #looks from this season, y'all 🔮

The Signs As Stephen King Novels

Aries: The Shining

Taurus: Cujo

Gemini: The Dark Half

Cancer: Misery

Leo: Bag of Bones

Virgo: Dreamcatcher

Libra: The Dead Zone

Scorpio: IT

Sagittarius: Insomnia

Capricorn: Under the Dome

Aquarius: Needful Things

Pisces: Carrie

honestly i’m so tired of people treating makeup and fashion like they can’t be hobbies. like it’s all right for a guy to know every player on every sports team or every car model but when a girl knows every makeup brand or every hand bag on the market she’s a brainless superficial ditz. like it’s a hobby and it doesn’t inhibit us from knowing about politics or what’s going on in the world, so why do assholes care so much that we also know every lipstick shade mac has ever come out with???

Locked Out

This prompt was requested from here

Enjoy this cute lil’ thing, which turned out way longer than expected. A little bit of a dominant Harry at the end… I couldn’t help myself. Enjoy!


32. I locked the keys in the car.

This was not how you had planned your day, at all. It had started of great; you had pretty much finished your Christmas shopping for the year and had done it before the crowds hit. But through the whole shopping trip you had a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you had forgotten something. And it became evident what that was when you were walking back to your car, searching through your handbag, all while trying to juggle the many shopping bags.

Your car keys.

You couldn’t seem to get your hands on them as your hand felt around every corner of the bag, all you could find feel were little bits of loose paper and crumbs that got stuck in your nails. When you got to the pavement you put your bags down to have proper search through but they simply were gone.

“Fuck” You uttered it under your breath, and had a quick search around the car hoping you had just dropped them getting out. But once again, you were left disappointed.

No, no, no. You couldn’t have…. Not again.

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The Signs at the Cafe:

Aries: Dunks their hand into the Americano to see how the scars form.

Taurus: Contemplates their order slowly while eating tea bags off the counter. The barista is getting impatient.

Gemini: Pours salt into their coffee. They pour salt into everyone’s coffee. Someone should stop them.

Cancer: Makes up a little song about their breakfast sandwich and sings it quietly to themselves while staring at new customers.

Leo: Grinds the beans with their teeth.

Virgo: Asks for cream. Just cream. All the cream.

Libra: Brings their own beans and espresso machine that they plug into the wall. They tip generously.

Scorpio: Completely naked. They order a large tea and combine every bag into the same cup. They live on the edge.

Ophiuchus: Sets up a small gambling ring in the ladies bathroom.

Sagittarius: Walks behind the counter and makes their own damn coffee. They brought their own apron.

Capricorn: Orders a cup of raw lemon juice and drinks it in one shot while making eye contact with the barista.

Aquarius: Hides in the waste basket, attempting to get other cafegoers to pour drinks directly into their mouth.

Pisces: Arrives carrying a broadsword and a submachine gun. They order a caramel latte that they feed to the coyote accompanying them.

my… my activity has just been… CONSUMED by that demon/witch custody battle post… it got over 10,000 notes in a dAY

PEOPLE KEEP ASKING TO WRITE AND DRAW STUFF FOR IT??? IS THIS REAL?????

I CAN’T FIND ANYTHING ELSE IN MY ACTIVITY IT’S JUST COUNTLESS REBLOGS OF THIS POST THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE H EL P

okay but imagine being the child(ren) of the goblin

- tons of corny dad jokes and how i met your mother stories FOR ETERNITY
- too much lovey dovey touchy feely affection of the parents which make the kids feel sick in the stomach
- and actually hearing mom casually calling dad as “ahjussi” makes everything even more 173928% awkward
- A FUCKING RED MOON just bc someone goes home late
- and A CONSTANT WEEK OF STORM if things like getting tattoos or having a boyfriend get mentioned
- finding matches and/or lighters in every single pocket and bag
- which makes friends question if u are doing a lighting business or something
- sometimes there will be notes in the matchbox which read “be safe honey” or “have an amazing day at school” or something super embarrasing but the kids lowkey like it
- bc they can summon their dad for stupid reasons such as forgetting lunch or homework at home
- but in the desperate times he is literally a SUPERHERO
- presentations in history classes are about late Goryeo period and the fact how it is very historically underrated
- if kids also have super power then get ready for SERIOUS KNIFE (AND OTHER STUFF ON THE DINING TABLE) FIGHT which drives mom insane
- surprise trips to quebec canada which eventually become not as surprising anymore
- “SERIOUSLY DAD WHY CANT YOUR DOOR OPEN TO ANOTHER PLACE”
- and he will go something like “THIS IS WHERE YOUR MOTHER AND I FALL IN LOVE DONT YOU UNDERSTAND HOW PRECIOUS IT IS”
- which is the beginning of a childish fight which is very common at the goblin household
- begging for the answers for the upcoming tests but always ends up with a no
- lots of exciting adventurous stories being told before bed
- hate when mom & dad are singing (bc its super embarrasing) but accept that they have got great voices

feel free to add on after all we people deserve this

Hit or Miss - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested by anonymous: How about writing something where Daryl accidentally shoot y/n with an arrow, either trough her shoulder/rib cage, or something, and she is hurt badly and Daryl is freaking out and stays with her while people try to help, and have to hold her down while they pull out the arrow, and she is in and out of consciousness, and all this reviles that Daryl’s have deep feelings for her and stays with her until she makes it <3 awe yess

I hope you enjoy it, anon <3

((( This gif makes me feel things )))

Originally posted by kinneyandreedus

“We got one coming this way!” Glenn called out as he lowered his binoculars. 

“You got it, Daryl?”

“Always do.” He grunted and lifted his crossbow, aiming carefully. He smiled to himself as his target fell back. Bastard. He thought to himself.


You slowly trudged along with your slight limp and heavy bag. Every now and then a sharp pain would shoot up your leg from your ankle. A herd almost got to you and you ended up tripping as you hurried away. You should’ve told more people that you were making a supply run. You only mentioned it to Andrea since she was keeping watch at the time. Everyone else probably thought you were still asleep in your tent and would be worried if they found out you went out on your own.

No sense in making a big deal of it now, I’m almost there. You thought to yourself. 

You adjusted the straps of your full backpack and emerged from the treeline. You smiled at the glorious sight of camp, relieved that you had actually made it back.

All of a sudden, you heard a whirring sound and an excruciating pain in your shoulder. You screamed out in agony when you hit the ground. You lifted your head to see an arrow was settled right into your skin, causing the worst pain you had ever felt. 

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