i never know what to tag her with

anonymous asked:

▲ - Marlene McKinnon, Charity Burbage, Emma Vanity

“What a childish game? Must I participate?”

F - Marlene. “Maybe it would distract her from her conspiracy theory about me.”
M - Charity. “Obviously. I could never get annoyed by her company.”
K - Emma. “I wouldn’t dare proposition the other two ideas to her. I like living.”

“Not that any of this is relevant.”

A story from the line at McDonald's
  • Me: okay so my sexuality's a complicated deal so let's just call me queer as hell
  • Friend: nono I wanna know can't you explain it
  • Me: well ok mainly I am asexual which means I don't want to do the do nor do I long for it, so it has nothing to do with lack of confidence or anything like that, I simply don't find anyone sexually attractive
  • Friend: right right
  • Me: but I'm also bi romantic. The sexual and romantic attraction are different, and I still fall in love and want to have physical contact with my partner, I just don't need the hanky panky
  • Friend: right cause you have a girlfriend that's pansexual right
  • Me: exactly and as long as we're both happy with not doing the rumba naked, that's a valid relationship
  • Friend: I get it, I get it... I didn't know the entire sexual and romantic orientations were different
  • Me: yeah I know it was an eyeopener for me when I found ou-
  • Lady behind us in line: excuse me so sorry but I couldn't help but overhear but I didn't know half of what you just said and I was just wondering what that thing your girlfriend was is, pansexual?
  • Me: *awkward glance at friend* oh uh I'm not an expert or anything and uh ok so basically it's similar to being bisexual, but there's less value in what gender the one you're attracted to is, at least as I understood it. So a bisexual would be attracted to a person despite their gender, a pansexual wouldn't really care at all in a way uh I'm sorry I'm bad at explaining
  • Lady behind us in line: that's alright I can look it up myself later you gave me a general idea! So where did you find out these things, you're pretty young?
  • Me: well, Internet. Once you're a bit confused about what you might be you usually go looking for explanations...
  • Lady behind us in line: so uh in theory... It's fine if you don't know, I just want to check with you... Is there a thing called aROMANTIC? like you're asexual, is there a equivalent to the romantic orientation you mentioned?
  • Me: oh yeah, absolutely! You can be both asexual and aromantic, or aromantic and heterosexual, literally all combinations are possible!
  • Lady behind us in line: *smiles LIKE REALLY GODDAMNED GENUINELY* thank you so much, I did not know that. *fishes up phone from pocket* now if you excuse me, I'm going to call my mother and tell her I'm not crazy for never having been married or stayed with one guy for long despite being 50+ but still has three children! *steps out of line and walks off while dialing*
  • Friend: wow that was... Amazing
  • Me: see how happy she got? That's the power of right information.
  • And that's why I've been smiling since this happened.
Notable Guests and Incidents From my Career at Chick-Fil-A
  • Elderly woman in the drive thru that insisted her meal should be free because the total cost was the same as her birth year. 
  • Obligatory group of shirtless frat boys. 
  • Guy who pulled me aside and demanded to know if we wash our floors with grease because the (freshly mopped) bathroom floor was slippery. 
  • Soccer mom that intentionally poured a large strawberry milkshake onto her son’s head as punishment. She asked for a new one.
  • Kid that stood on a table and sung Let It Go uninterrupted from start to finish. She received a standing ovation from everyone in the restaurant.
  • Teenage girl that paid for a to-go order, about $45 total, entirely in singles. 
  • College-age girl that asked if it was true that we were handing out free sandwiches to gays and, if so, if she could have one. I told her we weren’t doing that promotion at our location, but I’d buy her a sandwich if she gave me her number. She politely declined. 
  • Prank caller asking if we wanted to buy weed. The manager replied by saying we had a guy that sold to us for 10$/quarter and to call back when he could match that
  • Multiple instances of kids pooping in the playplace.
  • Another prank caller asking if we sold burgers. The manager (a different one) told them there was a Five Guys across the street, so why on earth bother looking for a burger here anyway?
  • That time Arthur Darville came in.
  • Drive thru guest who regularly asks, very specifically, for “coke zero, NOT diet coke with extra ice’
  • A basketball team from a local high school got banned for using their trays to slide down the slide.
  • This happened to be the same night that the staff all stayed an extra 20 minutes after the doors were locked and took turns using a tray to slide down the slide. 
  • Guy with a southern accent that addressed me as “you with the tits,” shoved his sweet tea under my nose for a refill and then, upon noticing my murderous expression, said, “Service with a smile, darlin’,” winked, and walked out.
  • Woman who told me in a watery voice, upon observing my name tag, that her recently deceased daughter’s name was Emily too. She comes back and chats with me occasionally. 
  • My coworker, Tyquan once finished his conversation with the guests by saying “Love, Peace, and Chicken Grease!” It is now a meme and basically all of our customers know him. 
  • That time I was explaining to one of the girls what Rocky Horror Picture Show was and this elderly couple leaned across the counter with wide eyes and exclaimed “You’ve never heard of Rocky Horror!?” And proceeded to yell their favorite audience participation lines. 
  • Guy who’s on the security staff of a local college frequently comes through the drive thru on his segway. We are all on a first name basis with him.
  • A skinny fuckboy who consistently, for over two years, has always come in wearing a trilby, carrying a copy of hamlet, and ordering “Coca-Cola” instead of coke. 
  • Some redneck-type guy with no front teeth that asked me if almost everybody on the staff is “saved” (they are.) He then asked me how old I was and if I was a nice Christian gal (I’m not).
  • Guy who geek-checked me for my Keyblade necklace. He didn’t play the spinoffs.
  • I went into the low fridge one day and the stack of juice boxes had toppled over, basically burying everything else. I asked the manager what happened, and he looked at me dead in the face and said “it was an appleanche.” 
  • Stoners calling to ask if we delivered.
  • Guy who said, in a deadass tone: “If you guys call it Chick-Fil-A because the staff is all chicks why don’t y’all wear more revealing shirts?” And I honestly didn’t even know what to do because a) our staff is not all women and b) Sir do you realize that this is a heavily Christian establishment I mean christ.
  • Unknown guest who left me several napkins with pictures drawn on them, labelled “tip.” To date it is the third tip I’ve ever gotten and by far the best.
  • That time we traded four large strip trays for eight cases of White Castle.
  • Woman in the drive thru that demanded to speak with the owner because we told her that she could not get six large cups of ice for free and would have to pay for a bag of ice instead.
  • Guy in a full replica batman cosplay. He came in, walked around, took some pictures with people, and left.
  • There was a baby boomer that screamed literally right in my face because his nuggets were cold. I had shit to do though and his breath with nasty so after six whole minutes of this (I timed it) I burst into tears and told him it was just my first day. Later the manager told me that she saw the whole thing and that she almost peed herself from laughing so hard and that I wasn’t allowed to do that anymore. 

And finally…

  • Prank caller asking if we could do a birthday party for 52 lesbians.
2

Nina buried her face in her coat’s woolen collar and said, “I wish you could see what I do. I can hear everybody on this ship, the blood rushing in their veins. I can hear the change in Kaz’s breathing when he looks at you.”
“You … you can?”
“It catches everytime, like he’s never seen you before.”

i’m sure this has been done. but. eh.

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Neil says.

Andrew looks away from the road to Neil, and then back again.

“They’re not,” Neil attempts.

The only reason Neil finally agreed to go to the dentist was because of the threat of being benched by the coaches. Not because the pain has been affecting his playing - of course it hasn’t - but because everyone on the team is sick of him holding and rotating his jaw all the time, obviously in pain but completely unwilling to admit it.

“You do as the doctors say now,” Andrew says, a reminder of an old agreement made back when Neil first went pro. Neil’s innate distrust in people wasn’t ever going to be a good enough reason for him to be stupid in regards to medical care when he was out of Abby’s hands. Andrew would like to think that now they’re on the same team he would have slightly more sway over Neil, but that’s never really been the case.

“He’s not a doctor.” The level of scorn in Neil’s voice is truly impressive. 

“Medical professional, then.” Andrew imagines the look on the dentist’s face as hearing Neil’s real opinion of him.

“Lots of people keep their wisdom teeth,” Neil says. “You still have yours.”

Andrew’s aren’t growing sideways out of his skull and threatening to crowd all his other teeth together. The term the dentist had used for Neil’s was ‘severely impacted’. He’d referred Neil to a maxillofacial surgeon and said that Neil would be lucky if they could be removed under sedation rather than a general anaesthetic. 

“I know,” Andrew says, rather than attempting a logical argument. There’s really no point.

“What?”

“I know, it’s hard to believe that my mouth really is bigger than yours,” Andrew says.


The threat of benching works well enough to get Neil to the surgeon, which is unsurprising to anyone who actually knows Neil. He’s calm and unafraid all day, except for the piercing look he gives Andrew in the moments before he’s ushered away.

“There’s a quiet waiting room just through here,” someone says, indicating a door. “You would be amazed how ill people have to be before they stop considering asking for an autograph.”

It’s been a while since anyone over the age of about sixteen asked Andrew for an autograph - the older ones got the idea eventually - but the offer of a quiet place to not be stared at isn’t anything to be sniffed at. Andrew goes through the door and takes a spot on a chair next to the window with a clear view of the door.

His fingers itch for a cigarette. He reaches for his phone instead.

Social media isn’t of much interest to him, so he spends a good half-hour reading news articles spiralling into scientific studies and then into the rabbit hole of wikipedia. He’s not sure quite how long it’s been when a knock at the door interrupts him from the page he’s reading on Indian mathematics.

Someone in scrubs puts her head through the door. “Mister Minyard? Neil is in recovery now. You can come sit with him.”

Andrew stands and follows her quick bustle of a walk, putting his phone in his pocket as he goes. The nurse is chatting as speedily as she walks. “Once he’s more awake and we know for sure he’s feeling himself he can be discharged. He’s a little quiet right now, but he asked for you before.”

She ushers him into a private room - another perk of being professional athletes - with a smile. 

Neil is lying on his back on the bed with his eyes closed, but he opens them when he hears Andrew sitting in the chair at his side. He looks a little like a chipmunk with the gauze stuffed in his cheeks, his jaw swollen enough that it’s grotesquely square rather than its usual fine-angled shape.

“Hey,” Andrew says.

He’s not necessarily expecting chattiness, but he is expecting an answer. Instead Neil just stares at him. His eyes are very large, as are his pupils.

“Hi,” he says eventually. He sounds exactly like he’s talking through a mouthful of cotton. The nurse comes in and fiddles with the blood pressure cuff on his arm, and Neil rolls his head around to watch her doing it.

“I’m just going to squash your arm again, okay?” she says, with the manner of someone talking to a child or an adult who is exceptionally out of their mind on drugs.

Neil doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then comes out with, “This is Andrew.”

The nurse flicks Andrew a look and a small smile. “We met, actually. He was waiting outside for you.”

“He’ll always wait for me,” Neil tells her, matter-of-fact. “He’s my partner.”

The nurse’s expression doesn’t change much, but it’s only through power of will, Andrew suspects. She looks like she would love to laugh. “That’s really nice of him.”

“Yeah,” Neil sighs warmly. He’s pathetic. 

“I would have recognised him anyway,” the nurse says, still looking amused. “I’m a Rebels fan.”

Neil, who is the biggest Rebels fan in the city, does something that might have been a half-smile if it weren’t for the current state of his face. Then it falls off. Mournfully, he says, “I can’t play this week.”

“No, but you’ll be back out there before you know it,” the nurse comforts. Her name tag says ‘Helen’ and has a yellow flower on it. “Are you playing, Andrew?”

“He’s the starting goalie,” Neil says before Andrew can say anything, almost making it to sounding affronted. Mostly he just sounds loopy. Andrew has never seen him have so many emotional shifts in thirty seconds before.

“I thought he might be stuck looking after you,” Helen replies. “I know what athletes are like.”

“I can look after myself.” That’s a very Neil answer, and also a complete lie. Andrew is banking on Neil being too miserable to want to come to the game in two days, because otherwise he’ll be on the bench in all his swollen-faced glory.

“I’m sure you can,” Helen says, and pats him on the shoulder condescendingly. Neil doesn’t notice at all. “I’ll come back in fifteen minutes and see how you’re doing.”

She bustles back out again, closing the door behind her gently. Neil sighs and rolls onto his side, muttering something indecipherable when the blood pressure cuff gets pulled tight under his body. It doesn’t sound pleased, and it’s definitely not in any language Andrew recognises.

Neil raises his unrestrained hand towards Andrew. It swerves a little in the air. “Can I?”

“Yes,” Andrew says. He’s expecting Neil to take his hand, but he doesn’t flinch when Neil reaches for his face instead. What he currently lacks in coordination he makes up for in gentleness, but Andrew closes his eyes anyway to lower the risk of losing one to a poorly-aimed finger.

“You look weird,” Neil mutters.

You look weird,” Andrew tells him, mostly because it’s true, partly to see Neil wrinkle his nose at him.

“Do not,” Neil replies. He pats Andrew’s cheek, and then gets distracted by Andrew’s hair. That’s not unusual, to be fair, though the level of concentration he’s giving it is. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Hey.” More insistently this time, like he doesn’t already have Andrew’s full attention. He tugs Andrew’s hair. 

Never let it be said Andrew can’t take a hint. He lowers himself onto his elbows on the edge of the bed and puts his forehead to Neil’s. Even though they’re at odd angles, Neil sighs in satisfaction. His eyelashes flutter against Andrew’s temple, fingers stroking idly over the arch of Andrew’s ear.

“Good,” he mutters, seemingly to himself.

They stay like that, Andrew’s chin pillowed on the starchy sheets and his forehead likely leaving an imprint on Neil’s fairer skin. Neil dozes, hand going lax, and Andrew closes his eyes and thinks in circles for a little while about the Bakhshali Manuscript.

Another knock at the door makes him raise his head. Neil’s eyes flash open, and then he blinks like he’s reeling a little. His fingers have fallen to Andrew’s wrist, and they tighten for a split-second before dropping away.

“Hi again,” Helen says gently. “Let’s get a look at you, Neil.”

Andrew moves aside and lets her at him, ignoring the disgruntled sound this earns from the bed. Neil is distracted quickly by Helen extracting the arm with the cuff from under his body and taking his blood pressure again, before removing it and making him sit up. Then she leaves, and returns with clothes and a clipboard. The clothes she leaves for Neil to attempt to put on. The clipboard she gives to Andrew.

“Rather than it turning out as a discharge form as signed by Alexander Pushkin,” she explains with a shrug. It’s fine, Andrew is all over Neil’s paperwork these days. He flips through the notes and signs in the right places then hands the board back, and gets a sheet of discharge instructions in its place.

“I’ll leave you guys for a sec and sort things,” she says, and does just that. It leaves Andrew to subtly ensure that Neil puts all his clothes on the right body parts. He’s looking less high but still dazed, his eyes hooded but his face pulling tighter. In the fall down, he’s always uncomfortably aware of the abnormality of being out of control of himself. Years later that hasn’t changed. Andrew isn’t surprised.

“You’re good to go,” Helen tells Neil when she returns, and then says to Andrew, “Good luck!”

He would like to think, as he manoeuvres Neil out, that she means for the game on Friday. It’s not likely, though.

Neil falls asleep against the window on the drive home. Andrew prods him awake so he can walk himself into the elevator, where he sags against the wall, and then into the apartment. He shuffles into the bedroom, still making gentle smooching noises at Sir and King as he winds himself into the duvet. He’s out ten seconds later.

Andrew watches for a moment while King curls up beside him and Sir gently begins to groom his hair, and then retreats to the balcony for a cigarette.


Andrew has relocated inside to the couch by the time he hears stirring from the bedroom a few hours later. The Neil who emerges is rumpled but sleepy in a normal sense rather than because of lingering sedation.

He lowers himself gently onto the cushion beside Andrew, and then even more slowly lowers his head down onto Andrew’s thighs.

“Painkillers?” Andrew offers. The discharge notes included strict instructions on dosage and timing, but Neil’s been asleep long enough to be due another couple of pills.

“In a minute,” Neil mumbles, like he’s trying to move his jaw as little as possible. He pats Andrew on the shin. “Stay.”

In an hour Neil’s going to be pissed off and probably a little anxious, wanting to move but knowing he can’t, irritated by the pain. But for now, it’s pretty easy to read a book and play pillow while Neil rests.

a stolen moment

A Lesson in Love (A Different Perspective)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 4,431

A/N: The tag list for this story is CLOSED. 

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - You are the forever best for editing for me.

Originally posted by skylerlockerbie

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to a track meet before.”

“I’ve never had a reason to come to one,” you say, defending yourself against Wanda’s accusatory tone and disapproving gaze.

“That’s no excuse,” she responds with a click of her tongue. “Now hurry up, we need to secure a good spot.”

You follow her blindly, not knowing what qualifies as a ‘good spot’. Unlike Wanda who has spent years attending track meets with her brother, you’ve never been to one. Like you told her, you never had a reason to attend one. Not until today.

Not until T'Challa.

Keep reading

15
I always wear a ring
Black
Right hand
Middle finger
It’s symbolic, I tell my parents
and because my mother still thinks
she raised me with manners
and I hate disappointing her
I don’t mention that it’s also
convenient
when I need to flip off the next guy who calls me a prude.

14
“It’s a thing, a real thing.”
“No, I’m serious!”
“It’s not a choice.”
“The ‘A’ doesn’t stand for ally!”
“I’m older NOW.”

13
I’m…not…broken?

12
I break down on my mother’s shoulder
crying and letting her rub my knuckle with her thumb
because I know I don’t like boys
and I just got a letter from my best friend
and I miss her so much
and I don’t understand myself
because no one’s ever bothered explaining
what it means to love someone
without wanting to kiss them.

11
Someone gives me a novel
and the pieces fall together when I read it.
…THAT’S where babies come from?
Why would anyone DO that?
…No, I really don’t think I’ll like it when I’m older.

10
My friend is going on a date
and all I can think is
“You really wanted to kiss him?”
I start to wonder what I’m not understanding.

9
I have friends now
and they ask me, giggling,
“Who do you have a crush on?
‘Oh, right,’ I think
remembering books
‘People talk about that sort of thing.’
So I pick at random.
He looks nice and I can make up stories about him.
Isn’t that what everyone else is doing?
(he moves away six months later
I’m happy I never had to kiss him.)

8
One of the other girls uses the word “hot”
I ask her what it means.
She says “You know” and giggles.
…I really don’t.

7
Why do people in movies always have to keep kissing?

6
My parents talk to me
about boys.
Why?

5
I can read books myself now.
People are still kissing.
I still don’t like it.
I miss Aidan at school
because no one else will play tag with me.

4
Aidan and I are going to get married someday.
We’ll have a trampoline and five dogs
I kiss him on the cheek.
He kisses me on the cheek.
I think we’ll have a wedding without kissing
But lots of cake!

3
I don’t like kissing stories.
Mom says I will when I’m older.

2

1

0
My parents are planning to support their child
no matter what gender they like to kiss.
They never do realize that ‘none of the above’ is an option.

— 

March 16

or

“Am I old enough now?”

3

So, I said last night that I really wanted to draw silly stuff of characters I’ve seen, but never watched or played their games. Yeah, it was Layton. I never played his games before, though I remember watching a movie or something several years ago. So I know him from that and my friend, Doodlechill, used to talk about him quite a lot.

Since the 2nd image is inspired by some of SquigglyDigg’s recent text posts, I’m holding her partially responsible for this. The pozzls broke me.

was reminded of these posts only now i’m wondering what lucretia knew about the bounties on everyone’s heads a la the raven queen. after the boys came back from lucas’s lab and debriefed, did lucretia consider that maybe lup could have gotten reaped?? and that’s why they never found her?? lup had double the crimes on her rap sheet, probably, cause she was a lich. 

i have a lot of questions abt the crew’s bounties actually. they can probably just be handwaved away bc griffin didn’t really think about it. but like.

kravitz only found the boys by coincidence bc they were in the same place as a different bounty - lucas, who was actively doing necromancy??

if merle was the biggest bounty he’d ever heard of, why hadn’t anyone been sent after him before that point??? or any of them?? how do reapers even get assigned to their bounties??? do they sense necromantic magic being cast or something, like, how do they get alerted to the presences of rule breakers??? like thb were in the book!! presumably the others too?? 

had nobody just… taken the job yet?? had people tried and failed to reap all of them through a series of hilarious mishaps??

I haven’t read Bombshells, and I don’t know if I’ll ever have the time to catch up on the 100 issues. But I fucking LOVE Bombshells Batwoman. She is so gorgeous! Also I tried the line-less coloring style again and tried to add some shading to it. I think it looks okay so I feel pretty meh about it. But the pose turned out how I wanted it to so that’s a win! Enjoy!

I love the idea of Blake doing romantic things for Yang. Like buying her flowers and chocolates for absolutely no reason at all. 

Blake leaving little folded up love notes in random places or tucking them away in Yang’s things when she goes away on missions. 

Blake takes pictures of pretty things she sees like sunsets and landscapes and sends them to Yang with the same text of “a close second” because they’re never quite as beautiful in Blake’s eyes as Yang is. 

Blake always putting things on Yang’s left side because she knows Yang likes to use her real arm as often as possible.

Blake also making sure to hold Yang’s robot hand at any opportunity she gets to remind Yang that it absolutely does not bother her at all. 

Blake tagging along with Yang on every random morning Yang wakes up itching for adventure and never complaining. 

Blake laying awake at night wondering what she ever did to deserve a girl like Yang who pulled her out of the darkness, but losing her train of thought because Yang rolls over and cuddles her in her sleep. 

Blake loves Yang. 

You’re Not Alone (1)

Pairing: brief Bucky X Reader, Steve X Reader

Words: 2514

Warnings: Angst to smut. One nsfw gif

Kazekagegirl  asked “I absolutely love your writing by the way, you are amazing! I was wondering if you could do a Steve x reader, Bucky x reader , Nat x Bucky, where the reader was dating bucky but find out has been cheating on her with Natasha and she confides in Steve and things happen between them smut if you can and angst please and thank you if you could!

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE.

Update: Part 2

Originally posted by bluebrooklynkid

Keep reading

The Betty We Need To See

The trailer door behind the two silent teens slammed almost comically loud, the sound echoing off the bare walls. Betty sat stoic on the rug, her pencil crushed in her palm, wood splintering the soft skin of her hands. Jughead was on the couch above her, his hand coming out to lay hesitantly on her shoulder.

“Betts, she was just..”

It took a split second, just a breath of air and the beautiful blonde was scrambling to her feet, gathering her honey locks into a loose ponytail at the back of her head. Her ponytail was her armor and… well…it sure felt like a battle was about to begin.

“I’m going home, I’ll figure this out on my own.” Her voice was strong, not a quiver and not a shake. She could do this, just leave, cool down.

Jugheads eyes widened, reaching for her and wincing as she dodged his hands

“No, no..Hey come on, you don’t have to go,come on we can figure it out together, a code cracking party right?” A nervous smiled ticked on the dark haired boys lips.

“No.” Betty whispered, sharp green eyes snapping up to his “no. I do have to go.”

Jughead took a step back, the intensity, the anger in her eyes directed entirely at him

“Listen if this is about what Toni said, I told you she was just joking, her humor it’s like mine, it’s..”

A bitter laugh escaped Betty’s lips, eyes welling before she shook her head abruptly. No. No she wasn’t going to cry not this time.

“Call her Jug. I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you plenty of jokes, you guys can talk. That’s what you wanted right? You didn’t want to work on figuring this out with me anyway did you? It was supposed to be you and Toni? The letter that was sent addressed to me, your girlfriend by the black hood killer, you wanted to figure it out with her right?” The words fell from her tongue with such venom it surprised even herself. It most definitely surprised Jughead, his features twisting almost as if he were in pain.

“Betty, come on. You know that not true! I didn’t even think…”

Cutting him off once again, the blondes hands flung out, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“That’s exactly the problem Jughead, dont you get it? You don’t think about me, not anymore. And it’s fine I get it, you’re busy with the Serpents. But.. I needed you, you ignore my calls to hang out with.. her, you text me “sorry for the phone tag?” Someone is after me Jughead and I don’t expect you to protect me, but… I need.. I don’t know I need something. You lie to me but you talk to her.. and.. and.. she attacked me in here Jughead, I hate to be this way and I never wanted to feel this way but.. you’re choosing her over me and I… I can’t do this anymore.”

Wide sky blue eyes stared at the girl slowly making her way towards the door, hands clutching her school bag.

“What does that mean Betty? You can’t do this anymore? You’re leaving me? You can’t do that.” Shuffling through the stray papers Jughead reached the door gripping Betty’s face in his hands as her eyes fluttered and a soft sob fell from her lips “I love you Okay? I love you and I don’t want to lose you, you said it yourself, we can’t let this civil war win. Don’t let it win. Please” He was crying now, he could feel the tears on his cheeks, hear the crack in his voice.

After a moment Betty tilted her lips on Jugheads for just a split second before pulling Away, her hand on the door Knob.

“We need space. You figure your thing out and I’ll figure mine. I love you too Jughead so much but… We need time.”

He followed her to the front of his trailer, tears falling faster now

“How much time?” He croaked.

Standing in front of the white Mini Cooper sticking out like a thumb in the rusted trailer park, Betty sighed

“I don’t know. Not too much but.. not too little either.”

He couldn’t speak anymore his throat stuck dry.

Betty turned one final time

“Oh and jughead?”

He turned expectantly

“Tell Toni, if she has anything else to say to me I can give her my address. I’m not afraid of her and I’m not afraid of any of you.”

Spank Me

Summary: When investigating a apartment Dean, Sam, and Y/N discover a paddle. Y/N gets nervous seeing it and the brothers soon discover she likes to be spanked. 

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Rated M

Warnings: NSFW, spanking, dirty talk, public sex, smut, 

Word Count: 2,202

A/N: Thank you @attractiverandomness for beta reading girl! This one was hot to write I very much enjoyed it, and I hope you do as well. 

Originally posted by lauraboline



“You said all the windows and doors were locked?” You questioned the elderly landlord standing in front of you. “There were no signs of forced entry and nothing was stolen?”

“No, it’s just like I told the officers Agent Rowling, there was nothing in here but the dead girl.” She looked around the empty apartment apprehensively, before her eyes were drawn to the blood stained wood. “All I know is the neighbors were complaining about the smell. That’s when we found her; the poor thing.” She shook her head back and forth, holding her fist in front of her mouth and nose. “I hope you three find the sick bastard who did this.” She nodded, clearly affected by the trauma.

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Can you imagine Lexa being hit on by a bunch of ladies? I can see her getting a little flustered, even if she tries not to show it. Clarke gets jealous and tries to come up with an excuse to get Lexa away from them; a quick war meeting? What? We just had one of those… You know she’s secretly grateful though (and getting a little more time with Clarke never hurts)

Cupcakes-5x22 fic

A/N: Y’all…I don’t even know where this came from. It’s total and complete ridiculous fluff!!!! Please enjoy!! 


Felicity rushed through the door of the bakery ten minutes before the sign said they closed, the smell of sugar and dough hitting her before she was even fully inside.

“I am definitely in the right place,” she muttered to herself as she headed straight to the counter even though her suddenly growling stomach threatened to derail her mission. Her idea to throw Oliver a surprise birthday party was a good one, of that she was certain, but actually having to plan and organize the event was something else entirely. Luckily Thea had agreed to do the heavy lifting when it came to decorations which left Felicity in charge of food.

“Hi, how can I help you?” the woman behind the counter only looked slightly perturbed at having a customer barge in so close to closing.

“I need cupcakes,” Felicity said enthusiastically, eyes scanning the display case but not seeing anything she liked.

“We can pretty much do whatever,” the woman assured her, catching on that she hadn’t spotted what she wanted.

“Like maybe something chocolate and fudgey with green frosting?” she asked with a hopeful lift of her eyebrows. “But not like grass green or mint green, more like…Green Arrow green.”

The woman laughed, pulling out a pad to write down the order, “Your little boy is into superheroes? How many dozen?”

“Oh no, I don’t…I don’t have a son, little or big.”

“Sorry! Daughter. No reason girls can’t like Green Arrow either.” she said with a grin, leaning in a little closer, “I mean…have you seen the way he fills out those leather pants?”

Felicity felt her face flush as her hands curled tight, lips pressed into a straight line, “I um…I have not noticed. Nope. Never noticed that. Is it a good fit? I mean…sorry, never mind, we were discussing cupcakes for my non existent children.” she trailed off under her breath.

The woman looked at her a little strangely but nodded, “Chocolate fudge with green frosting. Any sort of decoration?”

She was about to say no when a thought crossed her mind, “I don’t suppose you have little arrows or something do you?”

“I have just the thing.”

Felicity watched as she looked through a drawer behind her, before turning back holding a small arrow attached to a toothpick.

“It’s perfect!”

“This will be the first Green Arrow party we’ve done. I might have to take some pics and put it on our instagram. Maybe you could share your own and tag us?”

“That uh…that might not be so easy.” Felicity stammered.

“Yeah, some parents are weird about their kids pictures being put on the internet, but I figured it didn’t hurt to ask. Now how many dozen?”

“I’ll take two dozen,” she said quickly though she knew they’d never eat that many, but if there were leftovers that would not be a problem. Then a thought hit her and she sighed, “You know what, make half of those vanilla. Rene doesn’t like chocolate and Curtis will only eat the icing anyways and–”

“I thought you said you didn’t have kids.”