exploded skulls

  • Emma Thompson narrating the story
  • the Fabulous™ make-up
  • the Enchantress
  • « a hideous beast » like honestly most people are uglier than he is
  • Beast’s tiny teeth like aw
  • « you are so.. athletically inclined »
  • Maurice singing
  • LeFou slut-shaming Gaston for having a widow kink
  • Gaston’s widow kink
  • Maurice’s face after finding out Gaston has a widow kink
  • the forbidden west wing that doesn’t exist
  • Belle asking a hairbrush what their name is
  • be
  • our
  • guest
  • be our guest
  • Beast showing Belle the library because « Romeo & Juliet sucks let me show you the 240k other books I have »
  • Beast exploding Belle’s skull with a snowball
  • Belle surviving that snowball (honestly how ?? her head literally smashes the floor which happens to be made of stone)
  • Beast shyly sitting by Belle’s side during dinner
  • Belle’s dress
  • « there’s a beast running wild there’s no question, but I fear the wrong monster’s released »
  • Stan killing it in his dress
  • Cogsworth running away from his wife
  • Ewan McGregor’s French accent

Architect of the Capitol is an overly epic title for the glorified maintenance crew that keeps the U.S. Capitol Building, along with its reflecting pools and grounds, looking pretty for tourists and to provide a gorgeous backdrop for discrete meetings between movie characters embroiled in sprawling government conspiracies. They noticed there was a family of ducks having trouble getting into one of the reflecting pools, so they built a ramp that let the mother and her ducklings easily get in and out of the water.

The ramps were built in collaboration with a nonprofit wildlife rehabilitation organization, so it’s not like they were a multi-billion-dollar boondoggle of a government project. The stoner kid who slept through your seventh-grade shop class could churn out that same B-quality work (but his would also be a functioning pipe, so there’s that). The whole thing was probably $20 and a five-minute Kool-Aid break. Who could possibly have a problem with it? 

Accepting that challenge was The Man, who stepped in swinging his modest dick that he tells himself is so unfathomably large the human mind cannot comprehend it. The dick attached to the dick was Representative Mark Walker from North Carolina’s 6th Congressional district. Walker was presumably strolling along the Capitol grounds, taking in the beauty crafted by the Architect of the Capitol, hating everything he saw with the fury of 10,000 suns. When he saw the duck ramp, his bowels evacuated with such force that he rocketed 12 feet into the air and his eyes exploded out of his skull while “America The Beautiful” played in stereo out of his nipples. When he landed, pants torn asunder, still smoldering with rage feces, he tweeted a picture of the duck ramp, adding, “If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, it must be government waste.”

The only good thing to happen in D.C. in months had been politicized by a guy whose misplaced sense of morality would make him the perfect villain for a 1990s children’s movie called Duck Ramp, starring Jonathan Taylor Thomas because Macaulay Culkin was busy.

When Politics Can’t Stop The Good Guys From Winning

Submitted by @vampirequeenoffan


No but really this was great and I’d love to read more of it, I find the idea super interesting, like sirens are such a common and wellknown threat that lifeguards are hired specifically for their ability to resist them, super cool!

Sorry it took me a little while to respond to this, I enjoyed it so much I wanted to draw a lil smth for it

There was a time of the evening when it was easiest to strike. Sock had gotten it down to a science. When it got darker and cooler, the crowd on the beach thinned, and so too did the number of lifeguards. Three, two, and then just one, standing watch over the tourists still milling about on the sand and splashing around in the shallows. One life guard, however watchful, couldn’t keep track of everything at once, and there were blind spots to be exploited if you knew where they were.

Needless to say, Sock did.

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The Perfect Shot

Part Five

Originally posted by juggiehead

Pairing: Jughead x reader

Warnings: violence, swearing, angst

Summary: the reader has a bad time and it gets progressively worse ngl

A/N: I’m bad at summaries I apologise

Part One

It was not supposed to end like this: tied up in an abandoned building, dust stinging my eyes and something most definitely crawling up my leg. Wait, what’s that I see flushing itself down the toilet? Oh yeah, that would me my hopes and dreams for the future. Pretty sure they don’t accept corpses to college. A scholarship is no good to my dead ass. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to them. I knew Jughead Jones would do nothing but get me into trouble.

Yet here I am, wrists bound behind my back, about to be murdered by a biker gang.

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In the five decades since graphic footage of the JFK assassination splattered its way onto our television screens, said footage has been played, enhanced, replayed, zoomed in upon, and declared “FAKE!” by everyone from Oliver Stone to your dumbass college roommate. As such, you probably think there’s no gruesome detail of that fateful day with which you’re unfamiliar, and to that we emphatically say, “No, you are wrong. Unless you have heard of it, in which case you are some kind of macabre history buff, and are still wrong, albeit in a more general sense.”

The most distressing detail of the footage – other than the exploding skull – is the outward anguish of Jackie Kennedy, who in just seconds transforms from a poised First Lady into a blood-drenched widow. What you probably haven’t heard was her insistence on staying that way.

Hours after the assassination, Jackie arrived on Air Force One for the emergency swearing-in of her husband’s vice president Lyndon Baines Johnson – still wearing her watermelon-pink suit from the motorcade, filthy with her husband’s blood and brain matter. She had repeatedly shot down her aides’ pleas to change with, “No, I’m going to leave these clothes on. I want them to see what they have done.”

6 Dark Details History Usually Leaves Out (For Good Reason)

Now Or Never

“Tommy, you can not come in here!” I heard Polly shout. My vision was blurry and I was sweating everywhere. Blood stained the bed I was laying on. I could see Tommy trying to fight his way through the group of men holding him back, just to get to me.

Polly sat in front of me, telling me to hang in there as she tried to soothe me.

Another sharp pain came and I screamed out, trying to bare it. Tommy was shouting at his three brothers and cousin, threatening their lives if they didn’t let him through.

“Something’s not right Pol. It hurts different than last time.” I said, barely above a whisper.

“I know, I know. Just hang in there.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her close.

“If things go wrong, I want you to save my baby Polly. Tommy will try and fight it, but you save this baby first.”

“Y/N. He would never forgive me if I did that.”

“It’s not his body. He does not get to be the boss in this situation. Not here, not now.”

The pain was getting worse and I continued to lose consciousness.

“Polly don’t let her die. Don’t fucking let her die!” I heard Tommy shouting.

“Okay Y/N. The baby is trying to come out now. You have to stay awake.” I tried to keep my eyes open, but I didn’t have the strength. “Ada, come and sit next to her. You keep her up or she will die and this baby will die.”

Ada sat beside me, but she wasn’t there for long.

“Ada move.” A deep voice said. Seconds later I could smell the cologne I gifted to Tommy for his birthday. He grabbed my hand and placed a kiss on my knuckles.

“Tommy. I will always love you.”

“You say that like this is goodbye.” He wiped my forehead with a cloth, kissing it afterwards.

“It could be.”

“Okay. Now or never. Y/N, i need you to push, okay? Can you do that?” I nodded weakly and took a deep breath, using all the energy I could muster to try and push this baby out. I squeezed Tommy’s hand while screaming as loud as I could, feeling immeasurable pain. “You’re doing great. Give me another push.”

“I can’t Pol. It hurts too bad.”

“Y/N if you stop now I’m going to lose you. I don’t think I can go on if you die. So I need you to listen to Polly and push. I’m right here.” I nodded and took a few deep breaths before pushing again, feeling some of the pain go away after a few seconds. Polly reached for the blanket Ada was giving her. I could see her wrapping the baby up and walking to the other side of the room to lay him down.

“He’s not crying.” I said to Tommy. “I can’t hear him.”

“It’s fine. Worry about keeping your eyes open, okay?” Tommy kissed my lips, lingering for a second. “Polly what’s happening? What are you doing?”

“I’m tired Thomas.” He gently grabbed my face, trying to talk to me.

“Do not go to sleep.” He said loudly. “Polly put that baby down and come here.”

When Polly didn’t listen he became furious.

“Leave the fucking baby to Ada and save my wife!” Polly shook her head.

“She told me to save the baby Tommy. She told me what she wanted.” His hands went to his head, like his brain was exploding inside his skull.

“Polly please. I’m begging you.” His voice cracked. I had never seen Tommy cry before.

I reached up and touched his face. “Everything will be fine Thomas.” I looked into his eyes. “I hope he has your eyes. Those Shelby eyes. They’re gorgeous.” He managed to stifle a chuckle out. “Raise our children to be ordinary. I want them to be safe.” He shook his head and stood up, reaching for the gun in his holster. He cocked back the hammer and placed the cold metal barrel on Polly’s temple.

That was the last thing I saw before the darkness took over.

—– Part two?? Feedback is appreciated 💕
A Milky Way gave me breath

So I had this idea of ​​fic, where the reader is new to Beacon Hills High School, after moving to the city. Her first day starts very badly, and the panic rises. Chance or destiny makes sure that a person well-accustomed to panic attacks passes by at the right time.

Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

As soon as my foot touched the too-much-clean floor and my body crossed the entrance doors, I knew I did not belong there.

The corridor in front of me was crowded with young teenagers, all wearing a face that was both different but similar in the same time. They knew where they were going, some insecure, others had a pre-filled full future waiting only for them to graduate. Their biggest concern being, in the immediate future, the next class inscribed on their schedules.

And there was little me, lost, alone, empty, planted like a statue in the middle of the entrance of my new school. Asking myself again what I had done to deserve finding myself there.

New house, new town, new school.

Beacon Hills.

Nothing belonged to me anymore, nothing represented me, and nothing mattered.

I felt new tears rising to my eyes, which I was quick to wipe away before moving hesitantly towards my future.

It was the first day of class, and I was already lost, like a little puppy that would have lost her mother. I could not find my locker, my classroom, or the director’s office. The corridors were empty, but anyway I wouldn’t have been able to talk to anyone for directions. With my social anxiety, it’s impossible. My hands become moist, my heart drums in my ears and my breathing becomes wheezy and difficult. My mind is empty of words, and my legs began to shake uncontrollably. I tried everything, to fix this, but I cannot go to others. Some says that I lack confidence in myself and others tell as soon as I have my back turned that I am just an associable person.

I’d like to have friends, I’d like to talk to people, but I can’t.

And here I am, lost in a school that I hated more and more, alone, beginning to panic. I don’t want to be there, I only want to go home … my home before, the one that no longer existed.

The too well-known tears invaded my tired eyes. A curtain of water came over my sight as I felt a sob getting caught in my throat as I tried to take a breath. Automatically, one of my hands pressed against my heart by forcefully clutching my too big hoodie, while the other stood brusquely on my head, slamming my skull with my palm, hoping perhaps it would bring out the memories of my head, in vain.

After several interminable seconds, the sob finally slipped from my sore throat. I put my hands on my mouth to stifle it, not wanting to attract whole classes in the corridor, making me look oddly. I had to find a place to bury myself in for the rest of the day, hidden, isolated…


But I could not see where I was going anymore. My head began to spin hard and my hands trembled against the lockers I leaned on to help me move forward. Then, a familiar pain resounded in my chest, my breathing suddenly broke, and all the sound that could have crossed my lips got caught in my throat.

No oxygen came in or out of my lungs, and my head started to turn horribly. There only was mist and pain surrounding me. My breathing was rapid, jerky and difficult. I had the impression that my skull would explode any time soon, that my lungs were on fire, and that I was going to die.

Then I heard footsteps in the corridor, followed by a voice that I could not catch the words. Someone was going to see me in that state, laughing at me or worse, filming me and fetching his buddies. I had to hide, panic intensified in me. I no longer knew where I was, everything spun and I could not breathe.

“ Are you okay? ”

The person, a boy, stopped in front of me. Anxiety echoed in his voice, and I could hear the pity that was soon to follow. The poor little new high school girl I was, panicking in the middle of the hallway, like a kid.

I clumsily pushed back the hands he had placed on my shoulders with the intention to help me. He didn’t understand.

“Hey, hey, hey… let me help you”

His voice was soft, calm and almost reassuring.

But he didn’t understand that his presence wasn’t helping me, it made everything worse.

“Calm yourself, you must breathe slowly you hear me? ”

Breathe? I couldn’t breathe, the world crumbled, everything was slow, and I no longer even felt my own body. I was going to die, I was going to die!

“I … can’t … breathe …”

This time, when he put back his hands on my shoulders with a tenderness I did not know possible, I didn’t push him back. I no longer had the strength. My legs gave in under my weight, and I would’ve hurt myself if the boy hadn’t supported me. He knelt before me as I tried again to find my breath, or simply find the reality that seemed to escape me.

 " I’m gonna die… “

I felt the boy’s hand against my cheek, warm, soft and tender. His thumb caressed my burning skin as he whispered calming words that did not succeed in calming my heart rhythm or nausea. My thoughts were intermingled too much for me to calm down.

“You will not die; it’s a panic attack …”

The panic that began to make his voice tremble did not reassure me much. I looked up at him, but my vision was so tangled, I couldn’t distinguish his features. The only detail I succeeded in seeing and which struck me was a row of moles that adorned his cheeks. More particularly, his left one.

It looked like a Milky Way, it was fascinating and beautiful.

I don’t know why this detail struck me so much, but for a split second I forgot where I was and that I was dying asphyxiated.

This moment of inattention was enough for the boy to do the thing I was less expecting him to do.

Something hot and damp stood on my lips, while powerful hands grabbed my face.

I was so surprised that I froze completely, eyes wide open, as motionless as a statue cemented in the ground. I even forgot to breathe.

When he backed away, I blinked several times, putting my hand against my lips. I did not quite understand what happened.

But when I breathed again, the pain was gone.

I looked up to look at the boy, but he was faster. He mumbled briefly that when he kissed me, I held my breath, and that was the first idea that crossed his mind at that moment.

Before I could see his face, he ran off.

When my eyes were able to see correctly again, the Milky Way boy was gone.

Originally posted by haerenga

Hey, let me know what you think about it, about the English (I wrote all of it in French and then translate it with google translation’s help), and also the story!

I might continue it if someone likes it! (because I have ideas ehehe)

Ps: this is my first attempt of english writing… please be kind ;0;

The One Where Everyone Ships It

Here it is - the entry for @sterek-bingo I’ve been most excited to post! I really, really enjoyed writing this one and just had so much fun with it, so I’m really glad that the theme came up on day 3.

This story was written for the Friends To Lovers square on my BINGO card. (AO3 link here).

The One Where Everyone Ships It

Stiles doesn’t notice when it’s Scott, because Scott has a habit of being weird about things. That is, after all, one of the reasons they’re such good friends. So when Scott spends about half an hour chewing his bottom lip in the front seat of the Jeep when Stiles has dropped him home, Stiles just figures that whatever he’s trying to get out is something to do with Kira. Frankly, he doesn’t really want to know; Scott has never understood the meaning of the term overshare.

“Scotty,” he says patiently. “Spit it out.”

Scott gives him an awkward sidelong glance. “Um,” he says, and then stops. He takes a deep breath; Stiles waits with his eyebrows raised. “Do you think Derek is happy in the pack, now that he’s not the Alpha anymore?”

Obviously, he’s bottled out of telling Stiles whatever Kira-thing he’d been thinking, and picked on the first subject that he could think of. Stiles rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he says.

“I like Derek,” Scott says.

Stiles frowns at him. “Um, duh?” They all like Derek; he and Stiles are oddly good friends these days.

“Okay,” Scott says, and gets out of the car.

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prompt: “Oh my God, I thought you were going to die. Please don’t ever scare me like that again.”

For @greenpuma88 - thank you for your generosity and sorry for the long wait! <3

Based on the latest 7 Days to Die episode. >:D

“I got it!” Michael yelled, triumphantly, from down the stairs.

“Great,” Ryan snapped, “Now get the fuck back up here!”

This was a bad idea in every possible way. It’d been a bad idea to come back to the prison, it’d been a really bad idea to come at fucking night - but Gavin had left his backpack and barely escaped with his life, and there were guns in there. Guns they desperately needed.

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Summary: A BonesxReader that’s set during ID when the Vengeance is crashing down on earth: The reader is an engineer stationed in San Francisco during the crash (Bones knows that), survives it without being injured and then starts to help fix things after everything calms down (Bones doesn’t know that) and when he lands on earth and hears that the reader is on the ‘battlefield’ he freaks out? But then everything turns into fluff? (: for @littlecarowrites

Notes: I’m so sorry it took so long! Hope you like it! ((also first bones fic omg y’all))

Word count: 1222

Tag: @usscomics @youre-on-a-starship @trekken81 @yourtropegirl @enterprisewriting @imoutofmyvulcanmind @starshiphufflebadger @ussimagine@kaitymccoy123 @starmission @outside-the-government @imaginestartrek @paigeinastory @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @bkwrm523 @frostedej

While sliding around the corridors of the flagship, Leonard’s focus was 100% on the job at hand – making sure nobody ends up dead. The ship was falling down from the sky and pulled towards the Earth by its gravity. A one-way trip to certain death and imminent destruction.

Usually, as a grump that he is, he’d whine about the weight of his toolbox. Even though he always knew it’s in the job description, he would’ve sometimes wished he could just throw it into open space and never see that damned thing again. Now, though, while running around the ship making sure everybody gets home in a single piece and with a pulse, he did not feel the weight of the box. Despite the grip on the box’s handle being real tight, he even forgot it was there until he had any real use of it.

Only once did he take away a few moments to focus on something other than the task. ‘My mother was right. Hell is real.’ he thought to himself, a single eyebrow cocked. What never even crossed his mind, though, was you. And not because he didn’t care, far from it, he loved you more than life and treasured you more than booze (and Bones is quite a lover of fine alcohol). He was just unconsciously sure that you were in safety, based on nothing specific, and that enabled the mind to concentrate on other lives at stake.

And the exact same thing happened to you.

While watching a big, black, unknown ship fall down in flames and destroy 1/3 of San Francisco, you were scared. And the moment they placed you, an ordinary officer, on a commander’s spot and set you to repair the damage that was done, you were fucking terrified. ‘Out of all the things that could fall from space it had to be a big-ass ship with an infinite number of weapons and loads of toxic matter and nuclear energy?’ you screamed at nobody in particular before rushing to the scene with a toolbox in one hand and a communicator in the other.

Needless to say, your brain was on the verge of catching fire and exploding in your skull. You were constantly being called from 5 different directions and 10 different places. You were forced to answer them all whilst figuring out how to fix the problem in your own hands. Not to mention that all the machinery was extremely delicate and shit could hit the fan real fast if something wrong was done.

While speaking, thinking and working with your hands all at the same time, there wasn’t any space for your beloved doctor in your mind.

Luckily, it all turned out fine for Bones. Engineering pulled some strings, Sulu sprinkled some magic fairy dust and, god bless, the Enterprise stopped just before crashing, burning, exploding and killing everybody.

Bones threw himself in an empty seat in medbay and sighed.

The ship did have a few scratches and bruises here and there, but nothing Scotty and a good engineering team back on Earth couldn’t fixed.

Wait a moment.

Engineering team.

“Y/N! Shit!” Bones yelled, voice achieving and echo as the room was previously silent.

His eyes widened with pure fear while his mind scream at itself, disappointed by how he didn’t even think of you. He jumped from the chair and basically threw himself at a nearby computer.

“Locate Commander Y/L/N, Y/N, Engineering.”

“Commander Y/L, Y/N, Starfleet Headquarters.”

That’s where the Vengeance crashed.

Leonard sprinted out the door and straight to the bridge. He pushed through a sea of officers, forcing everybody and everything out of his way. Those few moments he spent in the turbolift, he spent them cursing at the damn thing for not going any faster. It appeared when Bones became worried, time flew in slow motion and his pulse skyrocketed. Not to mention that curse words star flying out of his mouth limitlessly. As he entered the bridge, Chekov didn’t even have time to announce his presence to the captain.

“Uhura, connect me to Starfleet HQ right now!”

Jim stood up from his chair with a bewildered look on his face and turned to his best friend and partner-in-crime.

“Bones? What-“

But as soon as he said the man’s name, Bones turned around and sent a glare Jim had never seen before in his entire life. Eyes full of passion, resentment, rage and love. Jim did not dare spend another moment analyzing those eyes, so he quietly returned to his spot.

“All frequencies open, but I can’t reach them. I’m sorry Bones.”

But before the young woman could finish her sentence, Leonard was out the door and in the turbolift once more.

This time, he headed directly to the transporter room with a clear goal on his mind. Before the door swished and closed, the doctor was already being beamed down to Earth. He had to remember to thank Jim later – it was he who announced Leonard’s arrival and destination to Scotty. Turns out he knows Bones better than he even thought.

You were working on picking out and storing pieces from the fallen ship which would be used in future creations (hopefully not secret ones), because even Starfleet believes in reusing unharmed whole parts.

You kneeled on the hull and bent down to scavenge a little more, just to make sure all the non-faulty parts were taken out. Later you picked up the box and turned around, just to drop it on the ground once more, this time because you suddenly lost all strength in your arms.

It was Leonard.

10 meters away from you and nearing, a dead serious look on his face. You choked on thin air as a stray tear came rolling down your dirty cheek. You closed your eyes and rubbed them, and only managed to take one step before being enveloped in a pair of strong arms. One of his hands held on your back and the other pressing your head to his warm chest, the beat of his heart calming your already wrecked nerves. Due to visible height difference, you wrapped your arms around his waist, your fingers intertwining on his lower back. Both of you pressed with equal force, with each squeeze negative energy pouring out of you and being replaced with nothing short of love.

You stood there for quite a long time. The way you held each other, it wasn’t just about physical contact. Together with body heat and tension relief, the two of you shared emotions via touch – something only people who are truly in love would be able to do. Together with your bodies your minds were in a peaceful place of their own. Contrary to chaotic thoughts that were swarming through your brains just an hour ago, your minds cleared of all worries. You were in Leonard’s arms and he was in yours. You were both alive and unscathed, and that’s all that mattered to you.

Even though the two of you stood like that for about 17 minutes, for you it felt like centuries.

Bones pulled away for a moment, still never letting go of you, almost like he was afraid that he’d lose you if he did. Before you could say anything, your lips collided and happiness came over you all over again.


Barefaced bun chatting with BTS managers. He just looks so… natural and boyfriend. My heart eyes exploded out of my skull.

Hold On Tight


It’s not the best night for it. The rain his coming down in heavy sheets, and the wind occasionally whips it right back in his face. But he finds the cold bracing, the downpour a much needed shock to his system. His head had been cloudy lately, too much warmth, too much softness, too much rest and god damned relaxation. And it had made him fuck up, monumentally. He curses and the angry sound is swept away into the night. Letting his guard down has always had unthinkable consequences, and he’d rather be out tracking down some sex-trafficking monster in the pouring rain than facing the fear collecting in his lungs, gathering around his heart.

He raises the scope of his gun for what feels like the tenth time, scanning the row of windows along the adjacent warehouse’s southern wall. The inside of the building is dimly lit, but the bastard running the operation has gotten too cocky to tarp the windows and Frank has clear view of what’s going on inside the building. It isn’t a pleasant sight.

A group of girls stumble out of a nondescript van, their hands tied with plastic zips. They huddle together blindly out of fear and a need for warmth, filthy blindfolds covering their eyes. They’re so young, their silent cooperation borne of terror. Frank doesn’t have to imagine the source of their fear, he can see it on the predatory smile of their ‘owner.’

Frank’s jaw tenses as he mentally calculates exactly how many shots it will take to put down the six men standing around the group of captives. They’re low level operators, and won’t be missed by many. Frank relishes the looks of surprised shock that flit across their faces when he shoots the man in charge, the back of his skull exploding outward in a pink mist as the bullet exits. The men barely have time to process their horror before each meet their own painful demise, not managing to scatter even ten feet before they hit the dirty warehouse floor.

The girls don’t even know what’s happening. The initial shattering of glass makes them cower, trembling quietly as the harsh sound is followed by six muffled thuds. Frank immediately drops the scope of the gun, focusing on putting his equipment away. He’ll call in a tip once he’s a couple blocks away, give the cops of this city a chance to help someone for a change. The rain’s letting up. It’ll be a nice walk back home… The thought causes a slight twinge, just under his rib cage. The safe house isn’t home, and neither is the place he’s gone so many nights before. He reminds himself that home is a pile of ash, nothing more.

He hears it just as he’s zipping his ammo bag, the familIar light footed running along the top of the next building over. Murdock and his superhero costume, knee high boots and all, special no-skid tread catching the edge of the roof before catapulting over perilously close to Frank.

Frank just shakes his head, “Too late, Red. It’s done.”

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@kinglets eheheh… here’s the soriku fic i’ve been blabbing about… i’m sorry it came out so late, and it’s kind of really rushed at the end. ._. also i’m like the corniest writer ever so sorry about that too

the prompt involved sora going back in time to that scene with riku in the end of kh1. but i kind of changed things up a little haha

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Hunger - chapter 23

Hunger master post

By the afternoon, the McCalls’ house is full of FBI agents, because apparently Gerard Argent was in the drug trade and Sheriff Haigh was involved, and absolutely nothing happened that has anything to do with werewolves. Rafael McCall suggests to his colleagues that Gerard at one time was operating out of the old bunker in the Preserve, and that one of the Hale kids must have seen something. And just like that the motive for the fire is neatly explained away.

Stiles worries about the fact that the investigation is going to turn up a distinct lack of drugs, but Chris seems to think that a search of his father’s properties will uncover enough money and weapons that the drug angle will be the only one that will play. Because the alternative? The alternative is werewolves, and nobody is going to go for that.

 Stiles worries that Haigh and the surviving hunters won’t go along with it, despite Derek’s threats.

“How can you be sure?” he asked Chris Argent on the way back to the house from the woods, when Rafael McCall and Jordan Parrish were making arrests and calling in outside backup from the scene.

“Because they’re going to prison anyway, and they’ll want to do their time in general population, not the psych ward,” Chris told him. His mouth quirked in the first smile Stiles thought he’d seen from him, and it was bitter. “Because the reason we’ve been able to fight this war in secret for centuries is that nobody would believe the truth anyway. And they know they’re better off in prison that dealing with the fallout from breaking the code.”

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Visitation - Final Chapter

This is the fourth and final chapter of ‘Visitation’! Thank you to everyone who has read/liked/reblogged/etc! This is the first thing I have written in awhile and it was always meant to be a short story, but there may be a few related one-shots down the line if people seem interested. Much thanks to @kijilinn and @ladylorelitany once again! Part 1 - Part 2 -  Part 3

Title: Visitation

Pairing: Negan x OFC

Rating: SWF (Cursing, Negan Language, Mentions of death, sexual language)

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