harvey is not in the ship

When you bingewatch new shows and the new OTPs hit you all at once like

The Trump administration on Tuesday denied a request to waive shipping restrictions to help get fuel and supplies to storm-ravaged Puerto Rico, saying it would do nothing to address the island’s main impediment to shipping, damaged ports.

The Jones Act limits shipping between coasts to U.S. flagged vessels. However, in the wake of brutal storms, the government has occasionally issued temporary waivers to allow the use of cheaper, tax free or more readily available foreign-flagged ships.

The Department of Homeland Security, which waived the act after hurricanes Harvey and Irma, did not agree an exemption would help this time.


America denies Puerto Rico request for waiver to bring vital fuel and supplies to island.

This is a fucking disgrace. Don’t believe the right wing talking points about the ports being damaged, because that’s a misdirection.


30 Days of The Gotham Rogues Challenge!
Day 15: Favorite Gotham Non-Canon Pairing

“Every minute he’s on the streets… every criminal act Two-Face commits… it’s driving Harvey deeper and deeper into his own mind. I have to save him, Alfred. He’s my friend.

“If you only knew the battles I’ve fought in my head to keep you alive these last few years.”


Listen, you gotta let my boy go. Hmm? You kill my partner, I gotta come after you. I don’t wanna do it, but how am I gonna look, you kill my partner, I don’t make a move? All right. But promise me that you’ll keep him under control. I promise. Cool. Put Butch on, please.  


The Doctor Blake Mysteries - 99 problems


2x16 - Commentary

Gabriel - Wait this looks like a YouTube montage somebody put on the web.

Patrick - This is from one of our fan fiction sites.

Gabriel - Yeah.

What? They read fan fiction and watch Marvey youtube videos? 😀


“okay, so, how many ships do you think we can slip into one episode?” - the gotham writers, probably

Want to help Hurricane Harvey victims?

I’m doing fic commissions! 

The money will go to my personal PayPal, and will be used to buy what shelters are in need of (socks, underwear, first aid supplies, food, and water) and other things at my discretion (off the top of my head: gas money to get myself and others to blood banks, gas money to get myself and others to sites where volunteers are needed, wheelchairs, children’s books and school supplies, various gofundmes, the Houston Food Bank, the Corpus Christi Food Bank and JJ Watt’s relief efforts). I will take pictures of all my receipts and send them to anyone who donates (along with any other reasonable request for proof that your money is going where you asked it to). 

Samples of my writing: 

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11075385 - McHanzo, nipple play, mush

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10976643/chapters/24441702 WIP Bokuroo vampire AU, long, a lil smut

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10826463 - fluffy, smutty, AsaSuga

I can do: 

Any Haikuu ship

Most Overwatch ships (I have the most experience with writing Jesse, Genji, and Hanzo) 

Any Voltron ship (assuming all characters are 18+) 

Several BNHA ships (I’m particularly fond of writing Bakugo)

The Adventure Zone (all ships)

Yuri on Ice (I’m most comfortable with Yuuri and Victor, but hey, I’m flexible)

I will write outside of these fandoms, but these are the ones that come to mind. I’ll try my hand at anything: fluff, smut, friendship, angst (to a point), AUs, anything. Obviously I reserve the right to not write about something, but let me know what you want and we will work something out. 

My rate is about $1 per 100 words. You can request something short or long, but that’s the baseline. Don’t worry if you want something long - Houston will need help after this disaster for years to come, so no matter when I finish it, your donation will facilitate healing for the Gulf Coast region. You can also request that your money be used for a specific thing/not used for a specific thing and I will evaluate those on a case by case basis. 

If you’re not interested in a fic but still want to donate, I ask that you look around and donate to basically anyone but the Red Cross, and to donate blood if you can. And please reblog and spread the word! Thanks so much for reading!

Death wasn’t at all like Mike imagined it.

His life didn’t flash before his eyes. There was no white light. In the end it was just the few seconds he could see the oncoming car and then … nothing. No pain, no feeling, no anything.

Heaven was also not at all like Mike imagined it, and yet he couldn’t help the rueful smile. He opened his eyes to find himself standing in the middle of Harvey’s apartment. Of course. This wasn’t his heaven because of the slick lines or the sparkling city view. It was his heaven because this was the place he’d felt the happiest, the most at home.

He wandered around the space for a while. It was such a perfect facsimile that he felt like he was really there, standing in Harvey’s actual apartment. He didn’t feel much different than from when he was alive. Where were all the answers he was promised? If this was indeed his heaven why were there no pearly gates or choirs of angels or even just someone - anyone - to greet him?

Where were his parents? Grammy?

The sound of a key in the front door lifted his spirits. That must be them now. Grinning, he rushed to the entryway. But when the door opened it wasn’t his parents or Grammy. It was Harvey, and he looked … there was no other word for it, he looked wrecked.

Mike was confused. If this was his heaven and Harvey was here, shouldn’t he be happy to see Mike? But then he walked straight past Mike as if he wasn’t even there, as though he couldn’t see him at all.

“Harvey?” Mike asked tentatively as he trailed after him.

No reaction.

Harvey went straight to the wet bar, poured himself a scotch, and drowned it in one go before pouring another. He took the second drink over to the lounge, collapsing in the chair and drinking it, albeit slightly slower this time.

Mike sat down beside him. He said Harvey’s name again and again and again but there was still no reaction. Harvey was just staring off into space, looking utterly devastated. Something was wrong. Harvey was right there, close enough to touch, except when he tried, when he reached out his hand couldn’t connect, just moved right through him. Harvey couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him.

Maybe he wasn’t in heaven. Maybe he was in hell.

Mike didn’t know how long they stayed like that; Harvey staring off into space with glassy eyes, Mike hovering uncertainly by his side with no idea what was happening. The impasse was broken by the sound of Harvey’s phone. It was the text alert tone, and when Harvey pulled it out from his pocket Mike tried to angle himself to see what it said, in case it gave him some clue as to what was happening. But Harvey was too quick, throwing the phone aside after reading the message, and then hunching over, his head in his hands.

Mike reached out to put his hand on Harvey’s back. Not that it made any difference.

In the silence that followed Mike started to mourn for the loss of his life. There were still so many things he wanted for his life. He’d never travelled overseas. He’d never made it to name partner. He never saw the Mets win the world series. He never went to Comic-Con. He’d never won a landmark case or set any precedents. He’d never gotten married.

So many things he wanted to do and never did. Too many. But the worst of it was Harvey. Mike was desperately in love with him, and he’d never gotten the chance to tell him.

So he did it now. Because what could it hurt? This wasn’t real, he was in some kind of hell or purgatory or something. The real Harvey would never get to hear these words, so why not say it to this fake one?

“I love you, Harvey,” Mike murmured.

Harvey’s head snapped up, looking around the room as if he’d heard something. Mike froze, hope flickering in his chest, but when Harvey’s eyes passed over Mike there was no recognition. Mike hated himself for hoping, he hated God or whoever was responsible for this torture, he hated the driver who killed him and took him away from the man he loved.

The sound of a door opening and closing stole both their attention. Donna walked slowly into the apartment. She didn’t look that great. Mike wanted to make a joke, smile and say jeez who died and get them both laughing, but even if he could, even if they could hear him, he knew it wouldn’t work. Because he was the one who died, and the afterlife was taunting him over it.

“Harvey,” Donna said gently, but Harvey stood, taking a few steps away, his back to her as he stood at the empty fireplace.

“I can’t. I can’t go there. I can’t see…”

Mike looked between them, confused. Donna didn’t shy away, she walked right up to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. There was nothing sexual or romantic in her touch, but Mike felt the jealousy flair nonetheless. How come this fake Donna could touch this fake Harvey and yet Mike, who was the only real thing here, couldn’t?

“I know how hard this is for you.”

“No, Donna, you don’t,” he snapped, whirling around and shaking off her hand. “You have no idea how this feels. How angry and scared and useless I feel. How this is the one thing I can’t fix and it’s killing me. How all I can think about is how I wished it was me and not - and not…”

Donna wrapped her arms around him, and Harvey let her. Mike stood and walked away, attempting to give them some privacy. The moment felt too intimate, and even though he had no idea what they were talking about he knew it wasn’t good, and Harvey wouldn’t want Mike seeing him like this.

“I know you’re scared,” Donna said. “I am too. But Harvey, he’s not gone. He needs you.”

“I can’t. I can’t see Mike like that.”

What? Mike turned, taking a few steps toward them. What were they talking about?

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My Ships!

Here are the Ships I support at the moment. 

 1. Star & Marco aka Starco 

2. Melissa & Zack aka Melizack 

3. Piri Piri & Harvey Beaks 

4. Lincoln & Ronnie Anne 

 Miscellaneous Ships: 





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