i guess he really likes that gun

When He’s Distracting
  • “I am NOT needy” he says as he shuffles closer to you and starts to play with your hair
  • tries to just sit in the same room as you when your busy but you’re actually just gonna do work and not make out with him???
  • “hey”
  • “hey”
  • “have you seen this?”
  • “what are you doing?”
  • “guess what harrison said to me today…”
  • “darling listen to me”
  • “please it’s really important”
  • but some how you’re still doing work and dismissing him with a “not now babe”
  • so it’s time to pull out the big guns and he strips his shirt off with a comment like “a bit hot in here, isn’t it?” and he can’t help but notice your eyes flick up at his torso, your tongue darting out to wet your lips
  • but somehow your resolve holds so he grabs a seat next to you and starts to pull you on his lap
  • “you can keep working just do it sitting on my lap”
  • and its been less than five minutes and he BORED and you’re still not paying attention!!!
  • “GOD how can you be reading?!”
  • he nuzzle his nose into your shoulder, presses his face into your back, leave little kisses on the nape of your neck
  • starts breathing over your ears, tickling you so you squirm and he can finally wrangle your laptop or book out of your hands
  • “MINE AT LAST!” he yells triumphantly and hugs you too him
  • “okay, okay. five minutes”
  • “uh huh, five minutes, love.” he smirks, helping you switch around so your straddling him
  • “I mean it!” you warn before kissing him
  • and suddenly its been 30 minutes and when you check the clock your eyes bug out and his grins at you
  • “muahahahahahahaha” he’ll laugh devilishly before pulling you back into a kiss

an au (inspired by this post) in which Annabeth is a mob boss and Percy is her ocean photographer boyfriend. Shout out to Hannah for being the best beta ever and for headcanoning this au with me pretty much non stop for the last few days. 

The fluorescent lights of the interrogation room flicker, giving it a strange glow that makes Percy’s eyes hurt. His fingers tap the beat of some pop song that had played on the radio earlier today onto the metal table that sits in front of him. The table is cool to the touch despite the warm, stale air that hangs in the room, and the accompanying metal chair is starting to make his butt numb despite it only having been here ten minutes.

Shuffling sounds begin emanating from the door in the corner of the room across from Percy, and soon it creaks open. First to step through is a tall blonde man with piercing blue eyes. His athletic build fills up the doorway as he pauses briefly to appraise Percy. Percy appraises him right back, noticing a scar on the corner of the detective’s lip and half of a tattoo that peaks out from under the cuff of his sleeve.

As soon as the detective steps into the room, another enters behind him. Her posture is impeccable and she walks with her head held high like she’s a warrior entering battle. That can’t be good, Percy thinks afterwards. She has on a royal purple blouse that pops against her brown skin, and her black hair is pulled into a braid that cascades over her shoulder.

“Hello, Mr. Jackson,” starts the blonde detective. “I’m Detective Grace and this is my partner Detective Arellano. Thanks so much for agreeing to come down to the station today to talk to us today.”

Percy smiles with a calm confidence, “Of course. Always happy to do my civic duty.”

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abcs of beth things i wanna talk about



  • Rick has a bubble gun and tbh lack of air aside and being put in it against ur will that looks fun
  • Beth thought she made up the world rick literally made cause she was so young at the time
  • Rick is really fucking rugged for 70, i guess greatest mind in the world makes you get used to shit like LOOSING A GODDAMN ARM and seeming growing it back within a few hours.
  • Rick may have pointed out Beth was just as bad as he was but also as he was like “look at all the crazy shit you asked me to build for you” he STILL BUILT IT FOR HER cause he cares.
  • this also answers one of my questions of if Rick did do shit like that just use his skillset to build amazing things for beth. he did.
  • Beth literally is just like her father and im kinda digging her realizing this
  • we don’t know if she actually choose to get replaced with a clone or not cause knowing Rick if her answer was yes he’d have it done by the time the kids got home
  • Rick also at one point said it wasn’t a real adventure cause it was missing morty and that just got me with good vibes tm
  • Also Rick stealing the pizza in the last scene, that was funny but also again shows hes able to do nice shit when he feels like
  • im talking out of order but he also offered beth to help him make the clone when she came back becasue she said she wanted to spend time with him and stuff, so now he finally did that for her.
  • Rick also fucked jerry’s ex alien girlfriend cause of course he did.
  • On the jerry story side, it interests me how the kids instantly just want Beth over Jerry
  • Summer got attacked first this time which i feel the whole being force choked thing parallels beth picking her over morty in that one scene
  • Morty seems to be retaining a lot of information and therefore is learning when out on his adventures with Rick cause he knew a lot about jerrys new alien girlfriend and their culture even to know a greeting to say to her in her native tounge and i also love that.
  • mr poopybutthole is still present and was on the fridge in a picture with Rick

We only got one episode left and im gonna cry

A Supernatural x “ IT ” Crossover (part 2)

Originally posted by thehorrorpit

S U M M A R Y: Their next case brings the three Winchester siblings to Derry, a city in which children seem to disappear for a unknown reason…

A/N: imagine that the IT movie plays in 2017 and not in 1988.

Also this is a crossover between supernatural and the “ IT ” movie. Not the book. It’s been a while since I saw the movie so if I make any mistakes, please don’t be angry, I really enjoyed the movie and thought that it would go super well with Supernatural.

( This is going to have multiple parts )



Chapter 2 ( almost two weeks later )


“This is bullshit.”, Dean says angrily and stands up from his chair, the bags under his green eyes are showing that he wasn’t able to get much sleep last night, but when he turns around to face his siblings he sees that the dark cycles around their eyes are even darker than his own.

“Dean come ‘on.”, Y/N says, without looking up from her computer screen :“We need to do more research-”, but before she finishes her sentence the oldest Winchester interrupts her.

“More research?! More- Y/N we are in this city for almost two weeks now, and even though we are doing our god damn research one more child went missing. And we have not a single clue who could have kidnapped​ that boy , beCAUSE FOR SOME REASON THIS CITY DOES NOT OWN A SINGLE SECURITY CAMERA!”

At the loud voice of his brother, Sam’s head shoots up and the man with the long brown hair rubs his forehead in pain,:“Dude..calm down- I’m already having a headache.”

“What do we know about the victims?”, Dean asks without responding to his younger brother:“Any informations about them and their families?”, He sits back down on the chair next to his sister and looks at the computer screen. There are children missing and till he found them he’s not going to simply calm down and rest, not even for a second.

His sister points at one picture :“ His name is George Elmer Denbrough, he is missing since October- last year. His story is so sad, after what his brother told the police George just wanted to play outside in the rain. But sadly he never returned back home that day.”, She knitts her eyebrows and stands up from her spot next to Dean to grab her bag.

“Where are you going?”

“The library.”, Y/N explains, grabs the gun from the table and puts it into her backpack:“This city has some dirty secrets to hide, I can feel it.”



It’s a sunny and warm day outside, the sky is blue and the youngest Winchester sibling can hear music and laughter coming from the nearest park. She stares at the bright screen of her phone: “Okay so where’s this library..”, she whispers to herself and follows the little red dot that shows her in which direction she has to go.

“Let me go, please!”, A familiar voice exclaims and the Y/H/C girl immediately looks up. She turns around and sees how three boys are standing at the end of the road, one of them is violently pushed against a tree, while another one holds a shining object in his left hand.

As fast as possible she starts running into the direction of the three teenagers and when she reached them she pushes one boy aside.

“Let him go you asshole!”, She commands but the tall boy with the blonde hair just raises his eyebrows in confusion.

At the black handle of the pocket knife , the name “ Henry ” is written in large letters and Y/N looks at him in disgust.

“You’re Henry… you’re that guy who wanted to cut his name into the belly of that boy.”, She says and crosses her arms infront of her chest.

Henry who looks at her for a second starts smiling, as if he just won a gold medal:“The one and only-”, but before he is able to say anything else Y/N’s fist collides with his jaw and the he stumbles a few steps back.

What the fuck?”, Henry exclaims and looks at the younger girl in shock:“Who the fuck do you think you are?!”, His eyes show nothing but anger as he takes a step closer to her, his knife still in his hand.

“You’re new here aren’t you? Well, then I guess it’s time for you to realise that it’s better if you respect-”

“I don’t have respect for pigs like you!”, Y/N says coldly while she takes the gun out of her bag, Henry and his friend exchange a look before he turns to face his victim.

“You’re lucky that this bitch came to save you, Tozier.”, He spits into his face and walks away, Y/N watches him for a second before she puts the weapon back into her black backpack.

“You- You saved me!”, He exclaims and wipes the spit from his forehead:“ Thanks for that!”

“R-R-RICHIE!”, A male voice shouts and when Y/N turns her head she sees how 5 boys are driving with their bikes down the road. They stop a couple of meters away from them and the tallest one of them looks at Y/N with a surprised look on his face.

“Y/-Y/-Y/- Y/N?”, He asks and a small smile appears on his lips:“W-W-What are y-y-you d-d-doing h-h-here?”,he asks and the girl smiles back at him.

She holds up her smile:“ I was on the search for the library when I met Henry and his friend-”, she explain and Richie who stands next to her forms a gun with his two hands.

“But then she took out her gun and- bang bang bang!”, He simulates the sounds of a firing gun and starts jumping up and down infront of his friends who are now staring at Y/N with a shocked impressions.

“Wait a second..you shot Henry down?!”, Stanley asks confused while the Y/H/C girl shakes her head.

“Of course I didn’t, I-”

“She punched him right into the jaw!”, Richie says and starts to aggressively hit the air around him with his fists:“ One time and two times and-”

“Richie stop it!”, Y/N’s voice is now deeper than usually and the brown haired boy with the big glasses swallows thickly, before he takes a step back. Y/N sighs and runs a hand through her hair:“Listen okay, I did not shoot Henry, it wasn’t even a real gun-”

“It looked and sounded really real!”

“It’s from my little brother, Stephen!”, Y/N lies:“He likes to play with fake weapons, so my dad brought him one. I guess it somehow got into my backpack, you know what would have happened if I didn’t acted like it was a real gun.”

Y/N looks from Richie to the other boys and she sees that they all seem to relax:“But you did punch him, didn’t you?”, Eddie asks and Richie starts to jump around again.

“It was incredible!”, He exclaims and smiles:“ She hit him so perfectly, she saved me!”

“T-T-Then I g-g-guess w-we c-c-could b-bring you t-t-to th-that l-l-library as a t-t-thank y-y-you.”


Tags✨: @stan-questionmark / @andeerwilson / @sarai-ibn-la-ahad /@demigodofthesun /@scarfylovesallons-y /@justandloyal2961 /@hunbles /@sittingwithlucifer /@springdayblink

Savior Ink

Every artist has their signature and hers, it’s cover-ups. Sometimes it’s to mask a now unwanted tat but her favorite is to cover a scar, or as she likes to explain to her clients, honor it. She gets a rush at taking something unwanted and turning into something to cherish.“ 

(Modern AU / Rated T / 3200 words / AO3


The heels of her boots are loud against the poured concrete floor of the hallway, the last quiet spot before reaching the constant swarm beyond the double swinging doors. Ten years in and she still quickens her pace to enter the one place she’s ever felt it in her heart to call home. The buzzing hits her like a lover’s embrace, melting the tension from her shoulders brought on by a restless night’s sleep.

Ruby’s client’s tongue is trapped between her red tipped fingers, slightly swollen from the shiny new  barbell piercing she’s securing with a sultry wink. Emma can practically feel the pheromones pulsing around the pair as the beautiful asian owner of said tongue blushes furiously as Ruby’s thumb brushes against her bottom lip. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Ruby will be offering to show this new client how to really make use of that piercing, with hands and tongue on demonstration devoid of any clothes.

Emma catches Belle’s eye from behind the counter and they share a knowing smile, both of them used to Ruby’s sexual adventures thanks to her love for giving the entire shop a very detailed play by play.

“Hey Ems, there’s coffee on your station.”

Ah, salvation. Belle is seriously the best, keeping this pack of lady tattoo artists organized and as drama free as possible, considering they’ve all gotten on the same damn cycle.

“What would I do without you?”

Belle just waves her off and goes back to adding to the schedule of appointments on the computer. There’s already three people waiting on the sunken leather couch in the front corner and Emma starts the process of getting her station set up for the day. Other than the appointment with Anton later on tonight to finally finish the intricate beanstalk tattoo on his back, she’s free for the rest of the day for walk-ins.

“I call dibs on stubbled and broody in the armchair, darling. He’s just this side of smarmy and I need the eye candy to help me wake up.”

“Whatever.”

Emma doesn’t even look up from her prep as Crue slinks by on wispy limbs towards her prey. Here’s hoping the guy wants a dog tattoo, cause that’s just about the only thing that woman is good at.

Keep reading

Examples of Dead Fandoms, Part Two

Go here to read part one.

Let me reiterate something I said before: I actually don’t want to be right about any of these fandoms being dead. It always makes me sad when people lose passion for something, and something worthwhile goes unread or unseen.


The Pulp Heroes (the Shadow, Doc Savage, etc.)

The Shadow was the first and most famous of the larger than life magazine heroes, mostly published by Street & Smith, who came out during the Great Depression. They weren’t superheroes, exactly…but they were too uncanny, too bigger than life, their adventures too bizarre and fantastical, to be typical adventurers or detective heroes in the usual sense…they were in the same ballpark as Tarzan or Zorro, a kind of “transitional fossil” between grounded detective and adventure characters, and the later far out superheroes. 

I realized the reach these novels had in their own time when I heard this amazing story about none other than jazz great Thelonious Monk: he was obsessed with Doc Savage magazine. When he performed, the jazz man sometimes had a Doc Savage magazine rolled up in his coat. I have a hard time imagining that!

The reason the pulp heroes went away and stopped having pop cultural cache is simple: the audience for it went away. You have to remember that pulp hero stories were always a composite genre, meant to appeal to two audiences simultaneously: kids, who loved action and fantasy and heroism, and working class men, who also love action, but who also loved lurid mystery and gore. To appeal to working class men, there were always way more hints of blood, gunplay, dread/terror, and sex, but because kids also read these, it was all very subdued. If you realize that pulp heroes were meant to appeal to these two very different audiences with conflicting desires, the question isn’t why the pulp heroes went away, but rather, why they lasted as long as they did. 

What took the kid audience away from the hero pulps could be summarized in two words: superhero comics. Sales on pulps fell every year when they had to compete with comics, and the history of the pulp heroes in the 1940s is defined by their reaction to the challenge of comics, a little like the history of movies when they had to compete with television. 

There were three big reactions to comics in the 1940s from the pulp magazines: 

  1. They dissed comics. This reminds me of the 50s movies that called television “the idiot’s lantern.” The best example of this I can find is the Doc Savage mystery, The Whisker of Hercules. By all accounts, Doc Savage author Lester Dent hated, hated, hated comic superheroes, particularly Superman, who exaggerated the traits of his own heroes beyond what he felt an audience would believe. Whisker of Hercules is a novel where Doc finds criminals who who take a potion that turns them into Superman, gives them superstrength, the ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound, and the ability to move at superspeed, but in the end, they are ultimately bested by Doc Savage, who outsmarts them and reveals the Whisker of Hercules ages them to death. Lester Dent, you see, felt superhero comics were a passing fad without staying power.
  2. They created characters that were both in pulp magazines and in comics as well. An example of this would be Ka-Zar and Sheena, who was in both comics and pulp magazines simultaneously. Today, we’d call them “multimedia properties.”
  3. They created far-out pulp heroes that were aimed at a kid audience to lure kids back to magazines. The best example of this is Edmond Hamilton’s Captain Future, which was a pulp hero who was extremely kid-friendly, with robot sidekicks and a cute mouse pet, and a base on the Moon. 

While the kids who read pulp heroes were lured away by comics, the working class men were pulled away by a new invention: the “men’s adventure” paperback novel, which could have explicit sex and violence. James Bond (Casino Royale was first published in 1954) was more typical of the paperback heroes, as was gun-toting Mack Bolan the Executioner, a special forces guy who came back from Vietnam to find his family killed by the mafia, and who declares war on the mob with his special forces training and arsenal of firearms (he also directly inspired a certain Marvel Comics character you might be familiar with). 

Just like almost all pop music is either Beatles or Stones inspired, nearly all men’s adventure heroes are some variation of either James Bond or Mack Bolan. This leads us to today, where men’s adventure novels are either porn, or gun porn. If you’ve read this blog long enough, you can probably guess which one I like better.

Here’s another thing to consider when wondering why the pulp heroes went away. The Shadow, Doc Savage, the Spider, are really only a few years older than the superheroes. They were not separated by a geologic age, the way many histories lead you to believe: they came out in the same decade as each other. Doc Savage came out in 1933, and Superman came out in 1938, which is not really that much time difference at all. The difference may be that there is a publishing company (DC Comics) that views Superman and Batman as essential to their identity and that keeps them alive for that reason, whereas no company does that for the pulp characters. In fact, there was even some dispute early this century as to whether the Street & Smith characters fell into the public domain. 


Original Battlestar Galactica

I used to post old cosplay pics, and my gosh, were there ever a lot of OBSG images. The actor who played Boomer was a regular at early science fiction conventions (there was a time when it was considered unusual for celebrities to visit conventions), and when a new BSG show was announced in 2003 (believe it or not, there was once a time that a hard reboot of an old scifi property was rare), it led to one of the all-time biggest nerdrages in nerd history.

I hesitate to say this, but part of the reason that Star Trek and the Next Generation are discovered decades later by new fans is because they really are good shows, and OBSG is…well, it’s a challenge for a new person, with fresh eyes, to see just what got everyone so excited in 1978. The reason why BSG was a big deal is clear: most people who are fans of it are fans because they watched the show when they were children, so it’s imprinted in their minds (rather like 90s kids and “Saved by the Bell” or “Power Rangers”). OSBG fandom isn’t growing for the same reason that “Saved by the Bell” fans aren’t growing: it’s a product of hormones and nostalgia, you “had to be there” to get it. 

To me, this explains perfectly why people went ballistic when a BSG reboot was announced back in the stone age, 2002. For one, the concept of a reboot was so new that I remember I heard people wonder if this means their favorite characters from the original were dead now. More importantly, though, this is a fandom with a few core people who remember BSG from when they were kids, and therefore have strong feelings about why it works and doesn’t work. 


Prince Valiant

Here’s a test to determine if a fandom is dead: if a movie adaptation royally screws everything about it up, would people get angry and yelly and passionate? Remember how people got death threats over the M. Knight Shyamalan Last Airbender? Well, in the case of Prince Valiant, I don’t think anybody would actually care. This is surprising, because for years, when people thought of comics, they thought of Prince Valiant: he was emblematic of an entire medium. Years before the prestige of Maus, Persepolis, and the “graphic novel,” it was the one comic that was classy, that adults were alright reading. 

Why is it no longer popular? Well, copy and paste everything I said on Dick Tracy about newspaper comics here. But also, if you ever run into someone who really loved Prince Valiant back in the day, ask them why they liked it. The answer should be incredibly telling. Most likely, they’ll tell you they loved the beautiful art, that they loved the great style of Hal Foster’s godlike pen. They loved the sweep of the story and the epic feel. 

Here’s what they won’t say if you ask them: they probably won’t say they liked the characters. (I can’t think of one adjective to describe Prince Valiant’s personality - he totally fails the RedLetterMedia test). They won’t remember any moment that made them cry or made them feel a rush of triumph.

I swear, it is not my intention to be a hater and drink some haterade. That’s really not in my nature, because I am a positive person. The whole point of this blog is for me to share cool old stuff I love - negativity has no place here. But there’s a dishonesty, a willful obtuseness, in trying to understand why Prince Valiant stopped being a phenomenon, and not realizing that Prince Valiant is beautiful looking, but it doesn’t give us the things about stories that “stick to our ribs” and make it stand the test of time: great characters and memorable, earned moments. Praising a comic for having beautiful art is like praising a movie for the great special effects. You don’t want the one thing people to remember about your hero to be a haircut. 


John Carter of Mars

The fandom for John Carter of Mars is a little like Barsoom itself without the Atmosphere Factory and water pumped from the depths of Omean: dead.

To the modern eye, one of the weirdest parts of Carl Sagan’s Cosmos series is the 3 minute digression in the episode on Mars where Sagan starts talking about how he was the hugest John Carter of Mars fanboy ever, and how he dreamed of rescuing beautiful women in gallant swordfights on thoatback, with his fanboy narration intercut with shots of Frazetta and Michael Whelan cover art. This really happened. And this was typical of the kind of passion that John Carter of Mars inspired that you don’t see much of today. It’s so easy to blame the tanking of the movie adaptation, but the movie failing was a symptom, not a cause, of the fact there was no hungry audience to receive it.

Sagan was a huge John Carter fan: his car had a “BARSOOM” vanity license plate, and he wasn’t alone: without hesitation, I would say that Edgar Rice Burroughs was the most important and influential scifi writer of the first few decades of the 20th Century, so important that everyone defined themselves as either Burroughs-like (Leigh Brackett, for instance) or rejected the tropes ERB created (see: Stanley G. Weinbaum). John Carter of Mars didn’t inspire Star Wars. Instead, he inspired the things that inspired Star Wars (e.g. Flash Gordon). Edgar Rice Burroughs, not Faulkner, not Hemmingway, was the best selling novelist of the 1920s. 

Remember the last time I did this, and I was sincerely baffled why the Tripods novels have not had a revival? Well, when I got to John Carter of Mars, the answer came to me: the reason is that this work was so influential, so ubiquitous, that it has been strip-mined of creative power by imitators to the point that very little about it seems original anymore. Tripods, if it came out now, would just look like a Hunger Games rip-off despite the fact that if anything, it’s the other way around. The problem with John Carter of Mars is exactly the same: remember how the response to the trailer to the film adaptation was that this was Avatar Goes to Attack of the Clones? When, actually, Avatar and others got a lot from the Barsoom books. In other words, because John Carter was influential enough to create cliches, paradoxically, it is now seen as cliche.


Highlander

The Ghostbusters reboot had a big, big problem: it’s a remake of a movie that’s an untouchable classic, like Back to the Future. Any remake would inevitably be compared to the original and suffer in the comparison. Well, here’s one movie you could probably remake with a gender swap hero: Highlander. It’s not Back to the Future, Jaws, or Terminator; this isn’t a movie people can quote every line from. People know of Highlander, sure…people know things like the Queen song, “there can be only one,” electric swordfighting, etc, but people don’t actually care that much. People won’t go ballistic. Highlander is a remaker’s dream: it has enough name recognition to get sold and made, but it doesn’t have a legion of nitpicking nerd fans to second guess everything and treat the original like gospel.

Highlander used to be kind of a big deal: it had not one but two tv shows, and it had three movie sequels. Just like “Wild Wild West” was steampunk a couple decades before that term existed, Highlander was “urban fantasy” before that term existed. Because of the themes of urban fantasy and tragic romance, it always had a strong female fandom, and there’s no understanding Highlander without understanding that it was kind of the Supernatural of its day: theoretically, with its swordfighting and cool powers, it was trying to appeal to boys…but ended up building up a way bigger female audience instead. 

Posterity is really never kind to any fantasy property who’s audience is primarily women. Who, today, talks a lot about Gargoyles or Beauty and the Beast, for example, to pick two properties that used to have a strong fandom? The last one (B&B) is pretty amazing because it was created by two people immensely relevant to the zeitgeist of today: Ron Perlman (the Beast himself), and the show’s head writer and producer, a fellow by the name of George R.R. Martin. It could be just plain chauvinism over a “girl thing.” I don’t deny that plays a role, more likely, it could just be that scifi fans are immensely nerdy in a way fantasy fans aren’t, so they keep alive their favorite scifi artifacts. That, I think, is why we’re still talking about Terminator and not Highlander: Tolkien fans who write in Dwarf runes are a freakish exception. In general, fantasy fans are way less hardcore than scifi fans.


Magnus, Robot Fighter

Ever talk to any old gay nerds? They will usually tell you they realized they were hella gay because of three men: Robert Conrad in “Wild Wild West,” Ultra Boy from Legion of Super-Heroes, and Magnus, Robot Fighter.

Russ Manning’s Magnus, Robot Fighter may be one of the great subterranean sources of pop culture. Matt Groening admits that the aesthetics of this comic inspired a lot of Futurama. Magnus, Robot Fighter was such a nostalgia totem in the minds of the Baby Boom generation, on the level of the Mars Attacks! cards, that George Lucas, who was always very hands-off with supplementary material, personally requested Russ Manning come out of retirement to do the Star Wars daily comics.

Magnus, Robot Fighter is an interesting example of how comics only have cache and longevity long-term if they can successfully convert into other media formats. Comics are important, but comics are ephemeral. Superman is the king of comic characters, sure, but most people know about him because he made the leap from comics to radio, screen, and television. 

Magnus is all the more heartbreaking because he almost made the jump to a medium with durability - video games. Under circumstances too complex to relate here, Acclaim bought out all the Gold Key comic characters, and Magnus was generally considered to be the crown jewel of the lot. Because Magnus was too important an IP to screw up, and the development team was so inexperienced, Acclaim instead decided to make their first Gold Key game adaptation one of the minor guys, so if they blew it, no biggie: Turok, Dinosaur Hunter. The rest is history: Acclaim was so busy making sequels to the surprise hit Turok, Dinosaur Hunter they never got around to giving Magnus, Robot Fighter a game.

Part three is coming, so stay tuned. Believe it or not, I actually have a fandom from the past ten years on here! Can you think of any dead fandoms?

Guns and Roses - Carl Gallagher Imagine

Originally posted by ianmickgallagher

Word Count: 2663

Warnings: Mentions of an abusive relationship and swearing



Your hands shook as you stood in front of the door of the Gallagher house.  You had been here before a plethora of times in the past, but ever since Carl had gone to prison, your friendship just wasn’t the same.  The two of you had drifted ever since he had come back.  You stayed occupied with your same old activities and Carl had fallen into a life of criminal activity.  And that was exactly why you were here.  For the first time since he had been let out of juvie, his current lifestyle could potentially help you.  Pushing your nerves aside, you finally knocked on the door.

Moments later, the door flew open to expose an all-too-familiar face.  “Y/N, hey! Long time no see.  Come on in,” Fiona said warmly, pulling you into an embrace before stepping aside.  “It’s nice to finally see a familiar face coming here for Carl.  I think he’s upstairs in his room.”

“Thanks, Fiona.  It’s nice to see you too,” you commented, forcing a smile for her. Sucking in a deep breath, you slowly began to ascend the staircase.  You were nervous, but you needed to do this.  You needed to do this before it was too late.  Once you reached Carl’s bedroom, you forced yourself to knock, only opening the door once you heard a mumbled ‘come in’ from the other side.

Carl was laying down on his bed, but immediately shot up into a seated position when his eyes set on you. “Y/N, hey, it’s been a while,” he said brightly, a large smile forming across his lips.  It didn’t last long though.  Moments later, he cleared his throat and forced the excitement out of his eyes, maintaining his recent swagger.  “I mean, hey.  What’s up?”

Stepping inside, you quietly closed the door behind you.  “I know we’re not really as close as we were before, but I need to ask for a favor from you.”  You bit down hard on your lower lip, looking down at your feet.

“Yeah, yeah.  Sure.”  Carl swung his legs over the edge of his bed.  “What is it?”

Taking in a deep breath, you finally allowed your eyes to meet his again.  “Word around school is that you were selling guns for a while.  Do you still sell them?”

“Guns?  Yeah, I still sell them,” Carl replied, furrowing his brow in confusion.  It took a few moments, but what you were implying eventually registered in his mind.  His eyes went wide.  “Wait, what? You want me to sell you a gun?”

You nodded your head quickly.  You just wanted this to be over with.  “Yeah, I do.”

That was when Carl broke out into a fit of laughter.  “You?  A gun? What could you possibly need a gun for?”

You could quickly feel the anger bubbling up inside of you.  With all that you had been through, you really didn’t need this right now.  “Do you fucking ask that to any of your other customers?”

Still, Carl would not stop laughing.  “Y/N, I’m not selling you a gun.  There’s no reason you could possibly need a—“

That was when you lost it.  Cutting him off, you balled your hands into tight fists.  “Stop acting like you fucking know me and what I need.  You might’ve known me before, but you don’t anymore.  Just like I don’t know you anymore either,” you snapped, taking a few steps closer to him.  “Just because you wear your hair like that and walk around all different now doesn’t make you tough.  You’re not. Some people actually have real problems. Remember how right before you went to prison I was dating that guy David and I said things were starting to go downhill? Yeah, I broke up with him after the first time he hit me, but that didn’t stop him.  He still manages to corner me and do all of these awful things and all I really wanted was a gun to scare him off—not even to kill him—but I fucking guess not.  You know what?  Fuck you, Carl.”

The laughing stopped.  Carl’s expression fell, all emotion draining from his face.  “W-Wait, what?”

You were too worked up.  Too upset.  Too exhausted.  “Just… Just fucking forget about it.  Knew I wouldn’t be able to count on you.”  You knew you were about to cry.  As your eyes started to well up, you spun around on your heel and stormed out of the room, ignoring Carl as he called out your name and got up from his bed. Wiping your eyes and covering your face as you crossed through the kitchen so Fiona wouldn’t see, you ran out of the house and all the way back home.  

You felt worse than ever.  Now you weren’t only scared, but embarrassed.  Ashamed.  Your day had started off hopeful, but now you felt defeated.  Nothing would change now.

The next few days came as a total shock to you.  Your ex-boyfriend didn’t corner you in the hallways at school.  He didn’t even follow you on your walks back home from school or to work.  He was completely absent.  Still, you were nervous.  This peace couldn’t last forever.

A knock on your front door caused you to jump while you were in the middle of doing your homework.  Your heart began to pound.  This was it.  He was back again.

Standing up on quivering legs, you reached under the couch and grabbed the baseball bat you had hidden there before.  Since Carl had let you down, it was the weapon you’d have to resort to.  Inhaling deeply, you approached the door and forced yourself to pull it open.

“Y/N, hey…”  Not the person you expected.  A confused Carl stood on your doorstep, holding an enormous bouquet of roses.  He looked different.  In fact, he looked like the Carl you had known before.  His hair was flowing freely and he was dressed in his regular attire.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips because it wasn’t your ex-boyfriend, but you still remembered what had occurred with Carl the last time you saw him.  He had made you feel weak and embarrassed.  “Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?  I don’t want your gifts,” you spat, attempting to slam the door closed.

Carl put his foot in the doorway and used his strength to squeeze through the opening until he was inside.  “Y/N, I need to talk to you,” he began, leaning his back against the closed door and looking at you with sad eyes.  “I’m sorry for laughing at you.  I probably made you feel really shitty and that’s not okay.  I realize that now.  I had no idea what you were going through and I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge.  I’m really sorry and I hope I’ve been able to make it up to you.”  He held the flowers out to you.

Taking a few steps back, you placed the baseball bat down on the table where you had been doing your homework.  “You really think some flowers are going to make that up to me? Because, trust me, it’s not.  I needed a gun, not fucking roses.”

Carl walked past you into your kitchen, going through the cabinets until he was able to find a vase.  After filling it with water, he put the flowers inside, following you into the living room and placing the vase in the middle of the table.  Completely ignoring your comments, he asked, “Has he come around the past few days?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you plopped back down on the couch.  “No, he hasn’t.  But no worries, he’ll be back soon enough.”

Overlooking your hostility, Carl took a seat beside you on the couch.  “No, he won’t.”

You were getting more and more annoyed each second that passed. Who was he to guess the next time your ex-boyfriend would decide to pay you a visit?  “Yeah, he will.  He always does.  Carl, you don’t even fucking know him.”

Carl reached out his hand and rested it on top of yours, which you hadn’t even realized was still shaking from the time you heard the knock on the door.  “Relax,” he murmured softly, beginning to massage your hand with his thumb.  “He’s not coming back.  I promise.  I took care of it.  Of him.” When your eyes widened, he shook his head.  “No, I didn’t kill him, Y/N.  Just made sure he’d be too scared to even look in your direction again.  It’s gonna be okay.  You’re safe now.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying.  Why would he do this?  Pulling your hand away from his, you inched back a bit.  “Carl, he could’ve hurt you,” you said, pulling your knees up to your chest.  “You could’ve just let me take care of it.”

“No, Y/N.  I couldn’t have.”  He grabbed your hand yet again and began to play with your fingers.  “After you ran out on me, I really thought about what you said.  Even if you had just told me why you needed a gun right away, I still wouldn’t have given it to you.  If he hurt you when you were unarmed, I don’t even want to think about what he would’ve done to you if he had found out you had a gun on you.  He could’ve killed you.”  His concerned eyes found yours again.  “I could never put you in that danger.  Even though I haven’t shown it recently, I care about you far too much.”

He really meant it.  You were really safe.  For the first time in months, a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. Without a single word, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his body tightly, burying your face into his chest.  You couldn’t control your emotions.  Tears began to stream from your eyes.  “I’m sorry,” you mumbled into his chest.

“Hey, hey.  You don’t have to apologize for anything.  I deserved to be yelled at.  Don’t say sorry, just say thank you,” he said with a chuckle, pulling back to look at you.  The smile immediately fell from his face.  “Please… Don’t cry.”  His hand comfortingly squeezed your arm.

Unfortunately, his hand gripped where one of your bruises happened to be, causing you to flinch.  You grabbed his hand off of your arm and laced your fingers with his instead. “Sorry… There’s… Yeah.”

He knew exactly what you meant.  The frown wouldn’t leave his lips.  “I just… I just don’t understand.  I don’t understand how somebody can do that to another person. To you.”  He shook his head, his eyes scanning your clothing-covered body. “Should’ve killed him when I had the chance.”

“You did enough.  Wouldn’t want you to end up back in prison.” You forced a half smile.

Still, Carl’s eyes continued to scan you up and down.  “I want to see.”

“Huh?”

Playing with your fingers, Carl’s eyes met yours again. “I want to see what he did to you. I just… I just need to know what he did.”

A lump formed in your throat.  “It’s ugly… I don’t let anyone see,” you whispered, looking down at your lap.  “But… I guess you deserve to after all of this.”  Inhaling deeply, you hesitantly gripped the fabric of your hoodie, slowly pulling it over your head.  Following this, you stood up and pulled down your sweats, stepping out of them.  You and Carl had been friends for a long time, so he had seen you in just a bra and underwear on numerous occasions, but you had never felt so exposed.

Carl sat on the edge of the couch, his eyes slowly scanning you up and down, taking it all in.  In the dim light, it almost appeared as though his eyes began to tear up a bit. “Wow…” he breathed, shaking his head. “I just… How…”  He was at a loss for words.

Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms around your stomach, trying to hide at least part of your body.  “I know,” you muttered, taking a step back.  “It’s… ugly.  It makes me feel ugly.”

“Don’t ever say that.”  Carl got up from the couch, kneeling down in front of you.  His fingers ghosted over one of the bruises on your thighs.  “The things he did to you were ugly.  But you could never be ugly.”  He pressed his lips to the mark on your thigh, causing you to shiver.  “You’re beautiful.  So beautiful.  Always have been, always will be.”

Closing your eyes, you allowed him to press his lips against each of the marks on your body.  He slowly made his way up to your stomach, and then your chest and collarbones. With each kiss, you were able to calm down a bit more.  Each time, his lips barely touched your skin, as though he was afraid he’d hurt you. Finally, he made his way to the top and stood up completely, staring down at your face.  You had never seen Carl act so passionately in his life, and it was making your heart pound.

You allowed your eyes to open, looking up to meet his gaze. His eyes wouldn’t leave yours. His blue orbs were glowing with nothing but adoration, causing you to blush and look down at your feet.  Your stomach was in knots.  How could he have possibly seen you in this state and be looking at you so admiringly?

“No, look at me,” he urged quietly, lifting your chin with his index finger.  Once your eyes were on his, he rested his forehead against yours and inhaled sharply. “This might kind of ruin the moment but I feel like you deserve to be asked for permission for once.  Can I kiss you?”  Blushing slightly, he bit on his lip.  “I mean, like, yeah I was just kissing your bruises before but I mean actually—“

Cutting off his rambling, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his.  His lips at first responded slowly and gently, but once you deepened the kiss, he added a bit more force as well.  Not breaking the kiss, he took a few steps back and sat down on the couch, pulling you into his lap.  His lips only pulled back when he gently placed you onto the couch, moving on top of you without putting any of his weight on you.

“Tell me when to stop,” Carl whispered breathlessly, kissing down your jaw until he reached your neck.  A gasp escaped your lips as he started to suck on the skin, your eyes closing as he continued to work on it.  “You know, not all of the marks on your body have to be made out of hate.” He pulled back, admiring what could only be a hickey.

For once, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You didn’t feel ugly.  You felt wanted.  Reaching down, you started to pull his shirt up.

His hand stopped yours, giving it a squeeze.  “Don’t feel like you have to.  Don’t feel like you owe me anything.”

You shook your head at him, moving his hand away and pulling his shirt over his head.  “I don’t feel like I have to.  I want to.” Giving him a reassuring smile, you reached down to unbutton his jeans.

From his body language, it was clear that he wanted to as well.  “Okay, just promise me you’ll let me know at any time if you want to stop or if I’m hurting you.  Please.” Gently, he helped you remove the rest of the clothes off of the both of you.

“I promise.”

And that was that.  In that night, you crossed over many boundaries.  You crossed the boundary from worthless to worthy.  From abandoned to wanted.  From hurt to healing.  From degraded to loved.  And with Carl, you crossed the boundary from friends to something much more.  And that something was all you had needed.


———-


Thank you to those of you who have liked/reblogged/commented on my other imagines so far.  Means a lot.  It’s 2am and I’m about to pass out but I should be posting again in the next few days.  Hope you enjoy. xx

Not Possible | Jimin, You

Just a cute College love story :)

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

‘Cause I’ll love you over and over again

He had seen you around campus a lot before, and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed him too. With his luscious brown hair, always styled into a middle parting, and his gorgeous eyes which seemed to always sparkle despite where he was. Not to mention his smile, one that could light up the whole world. When he smiled, his mouth would open wide to reveal his perfect teeth, his face would lift so much that his eyes would turn into bows, creasing like paper at the sides. It was a sight that made you believe in angels. No one was to blame if they did a double take on him.

Keep reading

I really like how there are so many different ways to read and interpret this chapter, so I’m throwing in another wild guess. I know the fandom consensus is that Seungbae isn’t much of a help and that this nightmare is foreshadowing, and I find that very likely. However I see another way to read this situation. Seungbae leaves a weapon behind for Bum because only he can free himself from this situation. But this is Bum’s mind, and he feels trapped and helpless, so even a gun becomes useless in his hands. Maybe the gun wasn’t loaded because he doesn’t believe in it. He doesn’t believe that he can be saved.

Trauma and Healing: Broken Silence [Jason Todd x Reader]

A/N: Hey lovelies! So I had this idea for a series (I don’t know how long it will be). Of course it’s Jason because I have an unhealthy addiction to him and writing about him. I hope you guys love it but I will warn it touches on some sensitive topics like human trafficking and mental illness. I really hope everyone enjoys it because I really love how it is turning out (I already have a few chapter written).

Warning: Human Trafficking, Mentions of rape/assault, Captivity, Mental Illness (hearing voices)

Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Alternate Ending

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Ch. 1 Broken Silence

Silence was the only comfort in a place like this. Only hearing the sound of your own breathing, sitting on the cold floor of a cell. Breathing out and seeing the faint puff of your breath, a shiver running through your body. Where were you? What happened to you?

Well, it’s quite simple really. You were kidnapped years ago and sold into human trafficking, though your sellers found you to be different. Special. So they didn’t simply sell you to the highest bidder at their sickening auctions. You were more rented. Not able to remember what life was like to be free, you only knew captivity. Like an animal.

Kept separate from the others they sold. Silence became a comfort, a friend, a safeguard. It told you when they were coming and how many. The sets of footsteps echo through the empty space meaning one thing and one thing alone. They were the only sound you’d here from this cell.

But that all changed, it had to be late at night due to the silence among the compound. No auction tonight mean no reason for them to come and take you. It was silent, that same comforting silence where you could hear your own heartbeat.

Knees pulled to your chest you listened to the thumping. Eventually the whispers began again, the ever prevalent voices you heard. This place was making you insane, you were sure of it. You would have mental breakdowns that led you to becoming violent. During them you completely lose yourself, like you’re watching your own body through a foggy window.

It was terrifying, yet also beautiful.

When they whispers began to grow louder that’s how you know if you’ll break or not. But tonight they seemed tamed, just faint voices.

Though within a minute of them speaking you heard what sounded like gunshots. Not a strange occurrence but these were one after the other. Guns were used as a scare tactic to keep everyone in line, but they never exceeded a three shots.

And what you heard sounded like a machine gun, like a fire fight.

Your grip tightened around your knees, fear coursing through your veins as your blood ran cold. Hearing shouts faintly within the compound, something rarely heard in your isolation.

Then you began to hear footsteps, a single set, sprinting toward your room. Seconds later the door flung open to see the man in charge of the ring, who goes by the simple name of ‘King.’

“Come on” he growled before pulling you to your feet by your hair. A yelp escaping your throat. That’s when he pinned you to the wall by your shoulder, “Don’t make another noise! Got that princess?” shoving a gun in your face. Staring at the gun you nodded, terrified at the weapon inches from your nose.

“Atta girl, now go!” A disgusting smirk showing his yellowing teeth. His breath volatile as he kept a hand on your shoulder and pushed you to stand in front of him as he walked. The gun pressed to your back in reassurance that you’d keep your mouth shut.

“Stop!” a deep voice yelled from behind the both of you.

In an instant he hand pulled your back to his chest and hand and arm holding you in place, while the other pressed the muzzle of the gun to your temple. “No, please!” Whimpering as your eyes shut tight.

“Let the girl go!” The deeper voice rang out once more. Opening your eyes you saw a man with a red helmet concealing his face, a red bird emblem on his chest plate. He held a gun in front of him with confidence.

You had heard of him, who was he again? One of the Gotham vigilantes? Or was it heroes? Only getting snippets of news broadcasts when a buyer had left a tv on.

“I don’t think so Red Hood, I kinda like this one. We’ve had her for awhile, our most prized possession. I can’t just give up a gem like this.” You were going to be sick at his words, ‘possession’ that’s all you were. Someone’s possession.

“People aren’t possessions ‘King,’ they’re human beings. Not to be bought and sold like some sort of market shelf product.” You were shocked at the words he said. No one had ever said such things in a place like this. He could blatantly see shock and confusion plastered in your features.

“I’m going to say this once more, let the girl go!”

You heard a chuckle behind you, before feeling him softly kiss your temple. “Well I guess all good things must come to an end. Sorry about this princess, you really were my favorite” he whispered into your ear before hearing the gun click.

That instant a shot was fired, though you fell to the floor anything but lifeless. Looking behind you, eyes widening in horror when seeing the lifeless body of your captor.  

Not watching as this ‘Red Hood’ holstered his gun and had walked toward you, he kneeled down beside you. “Are you okay?” going to touch your shoulder. However you jumped at his voice and recoiled. Until your back hit the wall, staring fearfully at the masked person in front of you.

“Hey hey, easy.” He said calmly, holding out a hand. He was crouched down in front of you. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Your breathing was shallow and labored as you began to hear the whispers again, though louder this time as a splitting headache pierced through your temples. Clutching your head in your hands, forearms covering your ears. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Yelling to yourself, the voices only growing louder. This whole incident must’ve triggered something in you, because on the last ‘shut up’ an energy pulse sent through the hallway.

All the light bulbs bursting as Red Hood got pushed back and hit the wall behind him. It however had made you fall unconscious. The strain on your physical and mental state being too much for your body to bear.


Jason’s night vision clicked on in his helmet. His hand clutched his head, as it had hit the wall when the pulse sent him backward.

Looking up he saw the glass of the light bulbs shattered and you were out cold.

Catching his breath before saying “Guys” into his comlink. Hearing confirmation from Kori and Roy, “What is it Jay?”

“We have a situation”

the bus (Lin Manuel Miranda x reader)

Lim-Manuel Miranda

summary : ur on a bus & Lin happens to be on the same one too & u expose ur fangirlness

warnings : maybe cussing¿? embarrassment ,, awkwardness stupid friends

pronouns : they/them

a/n : the wifi on this bus only apparently works where there’s cell reception idfk wtf and this is that cute idea I thought of… maybe it’s not so cute??? PLSE tell me what u guys think I need to improve my writing !!!

a/n : the previous a/n was the original one, but I’m adding this in here. this may be an ongoing series!!! sorry for the shitty writing in advance GIMME FEEDBACK,,

1 ,, 2 ,, next chatpter in the works
_______________________________________________

your eyes were dropping. it was about four in the morning, and the tour bus was picking people up. you pressed play on some music and put to full volume. your friend next to you, tanushka, drifted off a few minutes before you. you felt yourself fade into sleep, letting your mind rest.

~~~

lin couldn’t believe it. he’d been in queens town for about six days and not a single person recognized him. no matter how peaceful it was, it was also disheartening. he didn’t let it get him down, he signed himself up for an 8 hour bus ride to Millford Sound. he walked onto the bus using the incredibly steep stairs, then heard a familiar beat. he couldn’t place it, but he saw the source of the noise- you. he walked towards your seat and that’s when tanushka noticed him.

she let out a loud gasp, grabbing your phone and opening it to the home screen, a picture of Lin on it. “you’re the guy! with the music play thing! LIT manny or something!” She exclaims in a shout-whisper. he laughs at lit-manny.

“I’m Lin-Manuel Miranda, if that’s what you mean.”

“yeah! That guy! Holy shit y/n FUCKING loves you!” she points at you.

“so you don’t mind if i… sit here?” he asks, wanting to surprise you.

“oh! oh! oh sure!” she gets up, letting him slide in. for the first he examines you. your hands were inside your star labs hoodie, and half of your face as well. he got to notice your hair and your eyes. from the corner of his eyes, in the seat pocket, he spotted glasses. you were cute enough in your own way. now that he was closer to you, he could hear all the music. it seemed your music range varied greatly. one second it was Hamilton, then it was Metallica, then it was twenty one pilots. it was quite amusing. then the bus driver spoke into the speakers, his voice startling you.

“o- what the SHIT? ugh tanushka you never wake me u-” you turned and Lin was smirking. you rubbed your eyes and blinked, fumbling for your glasses.

“what the heckle?” you muttered, letting your eyes clear to reveal Lin, laughing.

“well hello there I’m Lin-”

“Manuel Miranda” you finished, in awe, “no freaking way.”

“well yes freaking way. I kinda just, heard your music, and asked your friend, tanushka I believe?, if I could sit here.” at her cue, she popped up from behind you. “that’s me!”

“anyways, so hey! I guess you have some great music taste!” Lin chuckles. “so what’s you’re name?”

“uh- y/n” you stutter out. then with more confidence, “y/n l/n”.

“well, y/n, what a lovely name might I mention, may I ask you what you’re favorite Hamilton song?” he says, making you laugh.

“I have so many really- uh I guess I really like Washington on your side- ooh! or maybe the Reynolds Pamphlet! Definitely guns and ships! oh! also! RIGHT hand man? and the Schuyler sisters? they’re all so good and so brilliantly put together and the music and t-” his laugh interrupted you.

“I think I’d know how good it is, I spent way too much of my life writing them”

“modest MUCH?” you laugh, then realize how rude you came off. “I’m so sorry I didn’t meant to-”

“it’s fine! don’t be sorry!” he noticed your fidgeting. “nervous?”

“this is… a lot to take in” you breathed out.

“well take your time then.” he jokes, “the dad bod is my best attribute, I believe.” you laugh, and grab your phone.

“is it ok if I take a picture with you?” you ask awkwardly. he nods, and you open up camera. he spots your homescreen and points at it.

“that’s me!”

“well duh” you grin, holding up the camera so you could take a photo. you guys ended up taking maybe fifty because you both couldn’t keep a straight face.

“you don’t mind if I… sit here for the rest of the ride?” he asked, quite nervously. Lin has a crush. yes, it was a school girlish crush, but you had such a bright attractive personality… he couldn’t help it. was that even legal? liking a fan? it seemed like a distant thought, a foreign idea only sought after in fanfiction.

“oh my god of course!” you were practically screaming, a grin so wide that Lin couldn’t help but smile.

“so… let’s get to know each other I guess?” Lin said, then tried to think of a question. “oh! what’s your twitter handle?” he asks and you tell him. a pan formularles in his head on how to get your number.

“can you send me the photos?” Lin asks, reaching for your phone “here I’ll-”

“I’ll just dm it on Twitter!” you smile and type in his handle, sending him the photos. there goes that.

“you don’t mind sending me all the pictures? Maybe it would be faster over text?” he tried again.

“oh it’s fine, you don’t want a fan like me with your number.” you say, not getting the hint.

“I mean-”

“don’t worry about it! there, it should have delivere-”

“goddamit can I please have your number?” he finally blurts. your eyes widen as you look up at him.

“what?”

“I-uhm” Lin didn’t know how to fix this. he scratches the back of his head, looking towards his feet

“I’d love to give you my number.” You grin, and send it to him over Twitter.

“uh thanks” he grins sheepishly, then posted a photo. your phone rang with the notification for both Lins post & that he tagged you.

“you have me on post notifs?” he laughs, running a hand through his hair. god, he was cute.

“maybe…”

“that’s cute.” he says laughing at your blush.

met the most amazing dum dum ever… (your handle)

you blushed again and covered your laugh as you looked at him. “this is so sweet!” you exclaim, and it was his turn to blush as he nervously looked towards the floor.

“and you followed me? what? that’s so cool! oh my gosh!” you gush, smile plastered across your cheeks.

“it’s no problem, really.” he says.

“thank you! well god, I’m tired so you don’t mind if I take a quick nap?” you ask, and he laughs. in the back of his head, he prayed the cliche gods were at work and you would fall asleep onto his shoulders.

to be continued¿

Reckless Behavior. Bucky X Reader

(One shot request- you and bucky have always had this tension, you get on each others nerves. You’re on a mission together and you both get hurt (nothing big) but he blames your recklessness for it. It leads to a blowout fight which leads to the hottest sex ever. Like he’s going down on you and doesn’t stop making you squirm and cum over and over before he finally enters you )

Warnings: Language, Smut, (Y/N)

Authors note: One shot.(Made up villain)  Requests are open for now. Message me and Ill get them done as soon as I can..


Originally posted by elves-n-angels


Running around, Bucky told you to meet him on the other side of the building. Him and Cap were supposed to take this mission. But Sam needed Cap instead. You sighed as you looked down at your watch waiting for it to hit 2 O’clock, that’s when the signal was gonna be given. But instead Bucky went on with out you. “Asshole.” You huffed out–grabbing your gun out from your hostler. 
~
“You didn’t wait for me Buck!.”, “Yeah so what Y/n.” He spat… you and Bucky never really liked one another, I guess maybe it could be the fact he thinks you like Steve, or probably cause you can kick his ass any day. “Heads up Y/n!.” Bucky yelled at you, You dodged the bullet, not realizing Buck had been hit..  “Shit.” He fell to the ground–Dropping his weapon.”Bucky!.” You ran over to him,  “I got it.” He sighed, “Go on.” He motioned forward, “Get the serum.” He handed you his Ak, as you ran off.  

“Wheres your partner!.” Black Bones called out, “None of your business.” You spoke through gritted teeth, “I suppose you want this?”, You turned around, coming face to face with Black bones.. as he was holding the serum.. “I could be a sweetheart and give it to you, but why make your job easy Y/N?”, You gripped the AK47 tightly, before getting ready to fire. Just as you were, he broke the vile bottle and poured it out.. “NO!” You screamed— running towards it.. Only for him to disappear.
~
An hour or so later, Bucky and you had met back at your apartment… Opening the door, Buck was sitting on your couch with a beer in hand. You sat your weapons on your counter and sighed. “Did you get it?” Buck looked over at you, “He dropped it.” You whispered, “Come again.” Buck got up quickly, “He dropped it!.” You yelled at Bucky, walking off, only for him to grab your arm roughly, “Y/n, how could you ruin this mission!.”, “I didn’t do it on purpose, you left me.”, “I got shot.” Bucky shook his head–letting you go. “You seem fine now.” You scoffed, walking away. 
..
“This is why I never do missions with you!.” Buck stood in your bedroom doorway, “Then why did you ask me to go?”, “Because I thought you wouldn’t let me down this time.”, “Oh well look what happened, BUCKY.” , “This is all your fault Y/n.”, “My fault!, How is it my fault.”, “Because you could’ve stopped him.” Bucky got closer, “Maybe next time instead of warning me not to get shot, warn yourself.” You shook your head. Buck grabbed you once again pulling you closer, “I’ll warn who ever I please.”, His voice got deeper… It turned you on some how, you tried shaking it off but you couldn’t, You always wondered what it was like with him in bed. His metal arm just tracing up your body. “Buc-.” He cut you off with a hard kiss, throwing you on the bed.. Well now’s your chance to find out.. “Time for a punishment.” He bit his lip, spreading your legs open wide enough for his head to fit between them. You watched what he was doing, he roughly pulled off your pants and panties with one swift motion, you were already aching for him.. He smirked at the thought of that, “Beg for me.” He licked his lips before kissing your inner thigh, “Please Bucky.”..He obliged in doing so, he traced your folds before placing his lips onto them, his long hair tickling the insides of your legs. “Fuck..” You moaned out– gripping onto his hair, He used his metal arm to hold you up while he continued pleasing you. He roughly bite down onto your cunt.. He could feel your juices flowing onto his face, so he knew you were getting close. “Buck… Oh–” you were cut off by the loss of contact. He licked his lips, before hovering over you, and kissing you, giving you a taste of yourself. Before you know it, you felt him slide right into you-causing you to bite down onto his lip. He was a lot bigger, and of course you were a lot smaller than him, so it felt as if it were your first time again. Buck looked into your E/c eyes, and began thrusting roughly. Your moans were no longer cute. They were more like whines, you placed your hands on his back, before digging in your nails.. “Bucky.. Please.”, He didn’t say anything, but move his head to your collar bone and biting down on it. Causing you to dig harder into his back.. “Fuck Y/N!” Bucky moaned out, only to give a few more thrusts before stopping. And rolling over to the side of you. 
You had no idea what just happened, I mean you did.. but you didn’t, Bucky placed his metal arm onto your thigh and took in a big breath. “Learned your lesson?”, “Yeah..” Your voice cracked. “Good.” He smiled getting off the bed.
~
The next morning, getting out of bed was a little rough. So you limped. Walking out of your room, Steve, Sam and Buck were all at your kitchen table having some breakfast. “Hungry?” Steve asked, “A bit.” You sat down by Bucky, “Awesome I’ll get you some pancakes.” As Steve got up, you felt Bucky’s hand grab your thigh, you jumped, only for Sam to look at you both awkwardly.. “MMhmm.” Sam sipped his coffee, as Bucky just laughed.

free will vs. fate

here’s a quick entry for klanceweek prompt #1: free will vs. fate

i may put these on ao3 if enough people enjoy them but, for now, you can also find them on twitter!

“I can’t do this anymore,” Keith murmurs.

The room is heavy with exhaustion, with the weight of responsibilities. Slouched next to him on the couch, Lance glances at Keith out of the corner of his eye. The words are tired—Keith is tired.

Lance lets his eyes flutter shut. Another mission, another near disaster. Without Shiro at the helm, the team doesn’t function quite as well as it used to. Keith takes more risks than Shiro had, which occasionally works to their advantage. Today, though, is one of the many times it didn’t.

“It isn’t your fault, dude,” Lance sighs. He has yet to remove his armor, and the material feels heavier than ever. “Besides, we all made it out alive. That’s something, right?”

“Aren’t you the person who’s supposed to give me shit for this?”

“You make a good point…” Lance taps his chin, lips pursed. “If you need me to, I can. You don’t have to twist my arm. Actually, please don’t. My right arm hurts like a bitch from where that one meathead Galra pushed me down.”

Keith snorts and leans his head back, exposing the long curve of his neck. A moment of silence settles between them before Keith speaks again. “I’m being serious, though. Leading the team… I’m not cut out for it.”

Lance cycles through a few different responses. Since Shiro vanished, Lance has heard the other paladins offer Keith varying advice. Hunk urging Keith to keep trying, Pidge admonishing him for his disregard for her family, Allura dissecting each of his plans, Coran insisting he’s the best for the job. And Lance… he doesn’t know how to handle the situation. How does he feel about Keith as their leader?

“You didn’t choose this,” Lance starts, carefully considering his approach. “Did you?”

“I guess not. Shiro always said I should take his place if something happened to him.”

“But you didn’t choose to be the big bad leader of your own freewill. You know what I mean?”

“Lance…”

“It isn’t like you’ve been gunning for the position or anything. You took charge because a really close friend wanted you to.” Lance pauses. “I mean, you love Red, right? I know how close Blue and I are. Bonding with another lion after everything you put into bonding with Red—it can’t be easy.”

To his surprise, the corners of Keith’s lips twist into a smile. It reminds Lance of something and, for a moment, he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. But then he remembers. A shaky image, on the fringes of his memory, of Keith regarding him with a soft smile, their fingers interlocked.

The bonding moment, Lance recalls with a start.

“I miss Red so much,” Keith whispers. His voice is strained with longing, and it tugs at something inside Lance’s chest. “But I… I’m the only one who can pilot the black lion.”

An idea strikes Lance, and, okay, maybe it’s stupid. But Lance finds himself blurting, “I can help you.”

Idiot, idiot, what the hell. Lance’s subconscious is screaming at him, and he kindly tells it to leave him alone, geez. Why did he say that? This is Keith; he doesn’t need Lance’s help. Allura would make a much better right-hand man—woman—than him.

“Really?” Keith prompts.

“Uh—I? Yes?”

Lance expects disgust or laughter or, hell, even annoyance. To think someone as useless as Lance would volunteer himself for such an important role is ridiculous.

“That…” Keith trails off and Lance braces himself for impact. “Would be… amazing.”

“Yeah, yeah, I shouldn’t have even brought it u—wait. What’d you just say?” Lance swears his soul leaves his body. “Did you? What?

“I could really use some help,” Keith explains. There’s a weariness in his voice, and Lance realizes, with everything that’s happened recently, Keith has been hit the hardest. “I didn’t expect you to offer but… I kind of hoped you would.”

Lance must be dreaming. This Keith can’t possibly be the real Keith.

“Me?” Lance squeaks, disbelieving.

“You’re the best for the job…”

Holy shit, Keith is blushing.

“I don’t know about that,” Lance scoffs, scratching the back of his neck. He might be blushing, too. Ugh. “I’m just… you know. Me.”

“Exactly.” Keith’s eyes narrow to angry little slits, almost like he’s offended.

“Keith, my dude, my main man…”

“You can do it.” Slowly, Keith’s smile morphs into a smirk, much like before a practice spar. A wicked glint dances behind his eyes, and Lance feels like he’s going to explode. “Isn’t that right, Sharpshooter?”

Wonder Boy (Part 2)

Originally posted by matthews-nylander-marner

Due to very popular demand, I have decided to make Wonder Boy a miniseries! Yay! Part one was my first ever post to get over 200 notes so that’s a big deal, right? This one isn’t quite as long as part one, so please forgive me! So, I hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: the usual cursing, sexual innuendo, and mutual rudeness

Check out some of my other fics!


It was a game we played every week. I would show up at the bar with my friends, who would promptly rush the dance floor while I saved us a booth. Auston and his teammates would show up nearly an hour later and claim the nearest open booth to mine. He would send me a drink, always a top-shelf sherry and always delivered by the bartender with the same message; “I’m sorry.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the bartender said one Friday whilst delivering my drink, “but are you ever going to talk to that guy? He’s spent almost $100 on drinks for you in the past couple weeks. Did he really fuck up that bad?”

“Well, it’s not my fault that he only thinks top shelf booze is worth drinking,” I countered before adding, “Maybe someday, but for now I’ll just see how long the free drinks last.”

“I mean, props to you, because it sounds like he’s going to keep sending them until you give him the time of day. Guy’s really hung up, but who wouldn’t be,” he said before shooting me a smile and resuming his post behind the bar. It was the beginning of an ongoing mild flirtation between me and the bartender, Sam, and it really seemed to piss Auston off. Plus, Sam was very cute and quite witty. Clever enough to hold a conversation with as I sat at the bar watching my friends making fools of themselves.

Keep reading

In Sickness and In Health

Based on a prompt request from @like-waves-on-the-beach for some sick!Killian.

Summary: Emma is sick and tired, literally. As always, she perseveres by pushing through her bout of the flu because only Emma takes care of Emma. When Killian comes down with the same flu, how will he handle it? Is he a cut above the average ailing male, or will Killian manage the man flu the same way he does most things… with panache?

Thank you to my beta @xhookswenchx. I appreciate you knocking this out so quickly!!

Rated M

7.7K words

Read on ao3         


Emma’s head was pounding, she felt as if it might pop like a balloon at any moment, and her eyes actually hurt. Sitting at her office desk with her eyes closed she softly rubbed her temples.  Who messed with the goddamn heat, it’s freezing! She groaned aloud when she realized even her internal voice sounded whiny and sick. She didn’t dare verbalize any of her complaints, of course; she couldn’t have people thinking she couldn’t handle something as simple as the flu.  This was the third day, and although she wasn’t running as high of a fever anymore, she still felt like shit. The past two days she’d gritted her way through work, not wanting to shirk her responsibilities. This morning she had decided enough was enough. She put on her favorite new blouse, a pair of ultra skinny jeans, and opted to leave her hair down, curling it. She was determined to at least look good if she couldn’t feel good.

“Emma, why don’t you go home and rest? Your father and newest deputy are more than capable of holding down the fort in your absence.” Killian had walked up behind her and was gently massaging the base of her skull.

It felt like heaven as Killian rubbed her aching neck. “Newest deputy, I like that,” she mumbled.

“I’ve heard he’s quite dashing, and rather well endowed,” he whispered into her ear.

Emma laughed then grabbed her head, “It hurts to laugh.”

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K-Drama Starters Part II:
  • “Don’t give me that face.”
  • “I’m sorry to say that I’m still alive.”
  • “Were you always so heartless?”
  • “You might not know this but I used to hurt people with just a spoon.”
  • “I don’t like ugly people. It pains me to even talk to you.”
  • “He/she treats me like a sister/brother!”
  • “You startled me, you punk.”
  • “How can I get back at that jerk?”
  • “Not that it’s possible, but I’ll make myself even more beautiful.”
  • “Why are you here, you foxy lady/man?”
  • “How many children should we have?”
  • “Would you like some chocolate milk?”
  • “As expected, I don’t fit in.”
  • “I won’t wear it. Get rid of it.”
  • “I won’t get rid of it. Wear it.”
  • “This is the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted.”
  • “I tried my best to make this. Don’t be cruel.”
  • “Are you hurt anywhere?!”
  • “I’m proposing to you right now, you know.”  
  • “I could put you in danger.”
  • “Most people cringe when startled, but you get ready to punch.”
  • “I don’t care about who you were or what you did in a past life. I’d hate you just the same.”
  • “Hey, does my face look like this drawing?”
  • “I’m only sitting next to you because I have no other choice.”
  • “I thought you were only bad at singing but your sense of humor is also terrible.”
  • “Let’s go together. If we go together, it won’t be lonely.”
  • “You’re looking at me sensually, aren’t you?”
  • “It’s too dangerous. You can’t go.”
  • “You know that I like you, right?”
  • “Liking someone is a good thing. There’s no reason to hide it.”
  • “I’m going to become someone you can lean on.”
  • “It doesn’t matter who you are because I don’t care at all.”
  • “I made him/her cry.”
  • “I’ll protect you.”
  • “I wish I could have pizza until I feel sick.”
  • “I was passing by when I saw an ugly little girl. I called your name just to check.”
  • “I’m ashamed to be your friend.”
  • “What’s wrong with a motel?”
  • “My leg feels like it’s going to break!”
  • “Can I kiss you one more time?”
  • “It’s too bad we only got to do four romantic things.”
  • “What do you want to eat? Oh, right I forgot you don’t eat.”
  • “You forgot your hair.”
  • “You can give me back my sheets later.”
  • “You think I don’t know about your dark thoughts?”
  • “I just thought of one thing money can’t buy: your smile.”
  • “I’m going to become stronger so I can protect you.”
  • “Why are you being like this?”
  • “I just visited her fitness club, sweated a bit, and she took the bait.”
  • “Get lost; this is my house!”
  • “When did I eat all this?”
  • “Did you grab [NAME]’s hand and drag him/her by force?”
  • “I’d give you the world if you asked me to.”
  • “Shoot, I just made a cute face at [NAME]’s father.”
  • “He/she got 50th place.”
  • “I’m not manly.”
  • “Should I apologize or should I confess?”
  • “I can hear everything, you cheesy goblin!”
  • “Cut it out, you’re scaring me.”
  • “Put that back before you cause an international dispute.”
  • “Goodbye. Take care. Never come back.”
  • “He/she’s talking on the phone while driving. Please give him/her a ticket.”
  • “Black loafers with white socks? Are you Michael Jackson?”
  • “I got dressed up for nothing… I guess I should take some selfies.”
  • “You fall in love every time someone buys you food.”
  • “Your grades are really sad.”
  • “Let’s just say that you hugged me.”
  • “Your Mom says she doesn’t like me.”
  • “Go get your gun.”  
  • “We should do something special.”  
  • “Be careful. I’m a good fighter.”
  • “Congratulations on becoming a married man/woman.”
  • “How could you dump someone over text?!”
  • “Why are you laughing?”  
  • “How dare you?”
  • “You have no idea what I went through in the short period of an hour.”
  • “Where did you come from? I only closed my eyes for ten seconds?”
  • “Seeing your face makes me happy.”

broken-sanity13  asked:

Well hey, at least you know what you did wrong and want to make up for it. But...how do you plan on getting Host's cane back? It's hard to trick the trickster himself after all

(*wiggles eyebrows* The way to trick a trickster is to be a trickier trickster!)

Dark hears a knock at his office door and is shocked to find that it’s Wilford. The pink figment has been back for a few weeks now, but he’s done everything in his power to avoid Dark thus far. It seems strange that he should seek him out now. “Will, how nice to see you again.” Dark smiles and gestures for him to come in. “Please, have a seat.”

Wilford steps inside Dark’s office, giving the other figment a sideways glare as he does. “We need to talk.”

Dark smirks, the ringing in his ears growing louder as he projects his aura throughout the entire room, a show of force for good measure, just in case Wilford has forgotten who’s really in control here. “I imagine it’s about your brother.” Dark closes the door. “Dreadful thing, really. I’d never have guessed that Walter was capable of such horrors.”

Warfstache snarls and draws his gun. “Don’t you dare speak about my brother!”

Dark turns around to face Wilford with a mocking smile and a shrug. “I assume you took care of him. Otherwise you likely wouldn’t have come back in one piece.” Dark studies his nails after a moment. They’re perfect, of course, but he knows the gesture will infuriate Wilford even further. “Well, I’m glad that nonsense is over with. We didn’t need another one around here making things crowded.” Dark looks up with a complacent smile and walks over to his desk. “Now, how can I help you?”

Wilford, gun drawn, stands across from Dark’s desk with his head held high. “I want the Host’s cane. Now.” He sees it lying there on Dark’s desk, but he’s not dumb enough to think that Dark will just let him take it.

“Oh, Will,” Dark says with a laugh. “That’s really quite funny. Maybe you forgot while you were away, but,” Dark leans in with a sinister smile, “you don’t make demands around here. You wiggle that silly mustache and wave your gun around and keep the little fans busy while I take care of the real work. Got that?”

“But, Darkipoo, our agreement was to work together!”

Dark spins around to find another Warfstache standing behind him, gun tapping against his chin thoughtfully. “It’s not like you to go back on your word.”

Dark turns back to the original Wilford. “What is this?”

Will shrugs his shoulders. “What can I say? I learned some new tricks while I was away!”

A third Warfstache strides in from Dark’s bedroom off the office with one of Dark’s robes on. “You know I think this suits me!” He poses for Dark. “What do you think?”

Dark’s jaw drops, and for a moment he’s so stunned that he doesn’t even react when the Wilford behind him blows a bunch of bubbles around his head. Dark bats the little iridescent orbs away, but when they pop, they explode in puffs of pink glitter with loud bangs like a gun going off.

The original Warfstache grabs the cane from Dark’s desk while the third one keeps his gun trained on the black and white Ego, forgetting to continue his posing. Dark snarls at them. “I’ll drag you all into my void if I have to!”

His aura starts to become oppressive, the shadows growing around them and knitting together into his endless void, but Warfstache presses back, his own void extending from his like an inflating balloon. “Uh, uh, uh.”

As one Wilford holds back the void, the other escapes with the cane and the final Wilford fires three rounds straight into Dark’s chest. Dark coughs and stumbles back, his aura dropping away, and the other two escape before Dark is even sure what hit him.

anonymous asked:

Tell me about not-a-stoner Bitty

I had to google weed things for this ask and now the FBI is arresting me because the word bong is in my search history now

ANYWAY

-Bitty doesn’t smoke often. Once in a blue moon. The number of times Bitty has smoked in his life is less than the number of times Shitty has smoked in one month. Only smokes when he wants to de-stress.

-Bitty HATES HATES HATES the smell. Doesn’t want it anywhere in his living space. Thinks the smoke is kinda yucky. Whenever he’s carrying bud in his bag or something he keeps it in an air tight container and sprays his bag with so much body spray/perfume/cologne to diffuse it

-He’s also like super paranoid about the smell lingering on his clothes. One of his nightmares involves his favorite chinos forever smelling like actual fucking skunk 

-prefers bowls to joints like a rational person

-He actually owns a really cute bowl. its blue and shiny and Lardo bought it for him. It’s more of a novelty thing cause he doesnt use it much

-When he’s high every joke is funny. Every word is funny. everythings funny and he’s laughin and also sort of crying because he’s low key scared that his mama is going to catch him smoking even though shes like 500 miles away

-Really only likes to smoke with Shitty and Lardo (sometimes with the frogs too). It’s a nice environment with them whether or not they’re at the haus or the lake or wherever those kooky college kiddos smoke idfk i exculsively get high in a forest

-Bitty also insists on wearing Shitty’s hoodies when he smokes (b/c of the smell thing. He’d rather stink up shittys stuff not his own nice button downs. 

-7/10 out of ten he’ll cough on his first hit. It’s okay bitty theres no shame in that. 

-He’s made pot brownies before

–alternatively: Early on in his encounters with weed, he ate a whole pot brownie cause he didn’t really know any better and he was sort of dead to the world for like over a day it was v traumatic

-yeah so bitty boy isnt a stoner but hes not a stranger to weed and one last thing he’s shot gunned with someone on the smh and i wont tell you who so take a guess in the tags

2

based on this imagine

Rick and the others are barely themselves as they come back the next morning. Of course you notice that a few of them are missing, but you think they stayed at the Hilltop.
“Hey, rough night?” You ask and getting closer with your crutches. “Are Maggie and the baby ok?”

A ridiculous injury from when you attacked the outpost. A bullet streaked your leg and hurt the muscle, but it’s gonna be ok.
The only thing that bothers you is that you couldn’t go with Maggie
.

“Negan?” Rick chokes out.
Confused by the question you frown before realization seeps through your mind and you notice the traces of cried tears on their cheeks. And also the blood in Rick’s face looking like human and not walker blood. Instantly your heartbeat increases and your mouth goes dry.
“What happ..”
You get cut off as Rick throws himself on you, his face distorted with rage as he drags you to the ground, grabbing after your shirt collar. Your face collides with the ground, bursting the skin open.
“Rick!” Michonne shrieks in panic and pulls him away from you with the help of the others.
Disbelief spreading in you as the wound on your leg opens again and warm blood moistens your pants, leaving a numb pain there. Carl comes closer, his face hardened as he helps you up. The blue eye looks irritated, but you’re not.
You know that the secret wishes that Negan wouldn’t be the same person like from your past didn’t fulfill.
“You know him! You know him!” Rick shouts and you stumble back from the broken hate in his voice.
“I..I.” You start desperately, lost at words. “I didn’t know it was him. I thought he died. Rick, you’ve to believe me.”
But he doesn’t and obviously the others also have troubles to do so. At least Rick seems to calm down, tears now pooling in his eyes as he comes closer to you, Michonne still standing by his side.
“H-he beat them to death, Gl-Glenn ‘nd Abraham a-and took Daryl..” A sob leaving Rick’s throat. “With a bat.. a bat called after you. Wh-why?”
It feels like someone give you a hit on the head as you try to handle the new informations while staring at Rick in disbelief. A bitter well known taste makes it way from your throat up to the mouth and you start choking.
You can’t speak as you walk backwards, afraid to ask what happened to Maggie and Sasha, making your way to one of the empty houses.

The whole day you’re not able to leave the house. You didn’t even took care of the wounds, just sitting on the floor with your arms wrapped around the knees.
You deserve every bit of pain, because you didn’t allow thought about the possibility that the Saviors leader could be your Negan.
Stupid, when you think about it.
Negan isn’t a very popular name and now two of your friends are dead.
As the sun goes down you’re finally standing up, your bones making a nasty crack sound and you’ve to groan in pain. Quietly, even when it’s not necessary, you’re leaving the house and making sure that no one is around as you stumble towards the gate.
They probably sit together in Gabriel’s church and… you don’t allow yourself to think about it. Think that you’re maybe not a part of this group, of this family anymore.

“Where are you going? Rick said that..”

“Don’t pretend that you give a shit about what Rick said.” You interrupt Spencer and he instantly shuts his mouth. “Just open the gate.”

Spencer frowns, upset about the fact that you called him out, but nods a second later.
“Hey, will you come back?” He asks and you just give him a short shrug.
Like Carol before you take one of the spiked cars, ignoring that your heartbeat increased to a maximum as you slide in the car.
Haphazardly you start driving around before taking the route towards the satellite outpost of Negan. A few cars standing around and you’re knowing that they’re watching you.
Slowly, with arms raised in surrender, you get out of the car.
“I’m, uh, Andrea from Alexandria. I need to talk to Negan.” You shout in the emptiness and step forwards.
You can’t give them your real name, the risks are too high that they come to the same conclusion as Rick and the others. Or that you want to kidding them.
It doesn’t come unexpectedly as they jump out of their hide outs and push you to the ground, right with the face in the dirt. Someone’s digging his knee in your back and you hold back a gasp, guns are instantly aiming at your head.
A warning - like you’d start any second a suicide command.

“You must be really brave to c'mere.. or really stupid.”

“A little bit of both, I guess.” An unamused chuckle leaving your mouth as you look up to the man with the mustache.
“Mh.” He nods, giving you a wide grin as he makes a wave with his hand. “Get her up. Think Negan wants to meet her.”
You’re not sure about this.
But anyway a relieved smile flashes over your face as they drag you up and mustache-man makes a harsh grab for your chin, inspecting you.
A thought running through your mind that Negan would beat the out of him for touching you like this. Or, at least the old Negan would.
“Yeah, Negan definitely wants to meet you.”

It’s a little bit ridiculous that a van full of armed men think it’s necessary to tie you up like a package. And put a sack over your head.
But the feeling fades and gets replaced by nervousness which creeps like ice through your veins. Also your stomach turns by the thought that you’ll meet him in a few minutes, leaving a bitter trail of bile on your tongue.
Even when you can’t imagine that he’ll kill you after calling his weapon of choice after you.
If you should be honest in the end you don’t care about the killing part.
It’s the how-will-my-husband-react part.
Thickly swallowing you notice that the van stopped and the doors open before pulling you out of the trunk.
“What’s that? An early birthday gift?” Negan’s voice reaching your ears and a cold shiver rolls down your spine.
‘Your birthday is in July.’ You want to yell as someone opens the ties around your ankle.
It’s September when you count the days and months correctly.
“She’s from Alexandria, wanting to talk to you.” Mustache aka Simon says and you hear Negan chuckle.
Similar to yours earlier, but nothing alike to the one you know from the past.
“Well, that’ll be fucking interesting.”
A familiar scent tingles to your nose as he’s grabbing your upper arm and guides you towards his home. He seems to be still the gentleman he was as he’s walking slowly with you. But you barely feel your injured leg, every muscle is tense and you’re afraid for the moment when he takes the sack from your head.

Whispering voices, wondering who you are and what you’re doing here, following you as Negan guides you down- and then upstairs and through long hallways.
“Tell Carson I need him later, want him to take a look at her leg.” Negan says and someone gives him a short ‘yes, sir’.
“You bring her to one of the cells?” Simon asks, his voice closer than you thought from his quiet steps.
“Nah, not with her injury. Let’s being some bunch of nice fucks and give her one of the empty rooms.” Negan responds and Simon snorts amused.
Your palms getting wet and your heart jumps in the throat as a door opens and Negan letting you sit down on a bed.
In fact you’re getting the full anxiety attack.
“Let’s look at you.” He mumbles and pulls the sack from your head.
For a moment there’s nothing, but silence while you blink against the brightness and then your eyes meet.
“Boss?” Simon asks irritated as Negan doesn’t move, just staring like he saw a ghost.
“Out.” He mumbles and before Simon can ask again Negan turns to him. “I said get the fuck out!”
Wincing you watch how Negan follows his man and slams the door closed, leaning against it with a heavy pant. The mood is tense as he’s still turned to the door and his shoulders move up and down like he’s crying.
Suddenly you aren’t sure anymore if he’ll not just turn around smash your head in.
“Damn wife.” He finally faces you and your eyes fill with disbelief, because he’s laughing. “You better be fucking joking.”