was a chilly winter morning in Colorado Springs, Colorado. As women were
nervously sitting in the Planned Parenthood clinic, they started to hear a loud
“pop pop pop” coming from outside. Staff inside the clinic rushed those in the
waiting room into a different room with a lock on the door and called police.
As police arrived they were met with gunfire by Robert Lewis Dear, who was now inside the clinic.
police fired back and a five hour standoff ensued. Dear was armed with a
semi-automatic rifle and by the end of the standoff, three people were dead:
police officer, Garrett Swasey and two passerbys, Ke’Arre M. Stewart and
Jennifer Markovsky were shot numerous times and succumbed to their wounds. Beside
Dear’s car, police discovered several propane tanks. It’s believed that he had
intended to open fire on the tanks and cause an explosion.
his apprehension, Dear expressed the belief that he would be met in Heaven by aborted
fetuses who would thank him for his murderous deed. None of the people he
killed worked in Planned Parenthood and none of them were planning on having an
abortion, but he had intended on killing those inside the building. Thankfully,
they were quick on their feet and managed to get themselves to safety before he
entered. In 2016, he was deemed incompetent to stand trial.
Harry watched, fascinated, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley - Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.
For a split second Harry thought it had worked - George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred - but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.
Sitting at Pops, Betty, Veronica and Archie on one side, the two girls sitting there, arms linked giggling amongst themselves. Jughead, myself and Kevin sat across from them. Jughead and Archie telling us about how their dads were in a band together in high school and how they named something the shagging wagon, making me immaturely choke on my milkshake as I tried to laugh as I swallowed, everyone in our booth staring at me.
Jughead and me bumping shoulders as he tried to hold his own laugh in while I sat here spluttering up my half swallowed milkshake, Kevin kindly rubbing and slapping my back from time to time. “It gets worse” He warned, Jug and Archie sharing a look between themselves. “Their band was called the Fred Heads” Making us all laugh so loud even Pops looked at us along with the half filled diner.
“I can’t believe our parents all went to school together” Betty spoke, like the fact they know each other is just crazy. Still giggling as Jughead kept whispering shagging wagon in my ear knowing my immaturity had already been unleashed for the night. The whole gang giving us strange looks that we are both unaware of.
Veronica, told us how she finally settled things with her mom but her and Archie swore they wouldn’t speak about their parents dating with it still making Ronnie uncomfortable whereas Archie was happy that his dad is happy. Jughead, stealing my fries thinking I hadn’t noticed until I kept slapping his hand, smirking every time he got caught.
“Okay,seriously” Ronnie, eagerly slapping her hands on the table all our attention falling on her. “What’s with you two?” She questioned, everyone else perking up. “The giggling between you two, the touching – bumping shoulders, brushing hands, slapping Jugheads hand, stealing her fries even though she hits you every time. Do I need to go on?” Jughead and I looking at each other, the whole gang looking between them then back to us, both our faces a dark shade of red.
“Oh my god!” Betty, gushed opening her eyes to what she clearly hadn’t been seeing to begin with.
“Well?” Ronnie, spoke again still awaiting a reply to our behaviour. “Not that I’m not all for it because swoon” She grinned, linking arms with Betty once again. “Just a heads up it two of our friends are finally getting together” Taking one of my fries as I glared at her.
“It’s stealing more than just fries” Jughead, grinned sneakily intertwining our hands under the table away from their prying eyes. Archie and Kevin glancing at me and Jughead before the both of them helping themselves to my fries.
A thief from an early age, Character A decides that the best thing they would possibly do on a Thursday afternoon is rob a nearby bank whose vaults famously hold millions upon millions. They successfully crack the vault only to find another person (Character B) already there holding the loot, followed by watching them smile and vanish into thin air with a loud ‘pop.’
Soon after, Character A is arrested, but Character B visits them in their jail cell with a loud pop and offers them a deal.
He could hear the music the moment the lift doors slid open, and Joe laughed softly as he pulled his keys from his pocket, already picturing what was happening inside of his and his girlfriend’s shared flat.
When he swung the door open, the music only grew louder, the loud pop song rattling the walls to the point that he was sure his neighbours probably hated him, but Joe forgot all about them when he rounded the corner and saw the sight before him.
Y/N, clad in one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, was singing into her hair brush, her hair flying around her. Her eyes were shining brightly, and a large smile was spread across her face, her cheeks rosy. Her hips moved in time with the beat, swaying from side to side as her feet carried her across the room.
The other body danced around her, although less gracefully, and Jack laughed as he stumbled, singing at the top of his lungs, and very off key. He grabbed Y/N’s free hand, pulling her in before spinning her out, grinning as she giggled, twirling on her toes.
Joe loved catching the two in moments like this, when the two best friends were having so much fun and pure joy radiated off of them.
Back when Y/N and Joe had started to date, he did get a little jealous of how close her and Jack were, and worried that perhaps she cared for the other man as more than a friend, but she reassured him that they were only best friends.
Now, nearly two years later, Joe could see that yes, the two cared for each other, but not in the same way that Y/N and Joe did.
But it was still fun watching the two interact, because Jack was one of the few people Y/N felt like she could be entirely herself around, such as right now as she danced across the flat singing along to some random song.
Joe remained where he was, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, an amused smile on his face, just watching the two.
Jack noticed him first, winking over at the older man before pulling Y/N back against him, dipping her down low, saying something softly into her ear.
When she was standing up again, she spun around to face Joe, her smile changing into something more intimate as she crossed the room over to him.
“Why, hello there.” She said, wrapping her arms around him, lifting up to kiss him quickly.
“Please, don’t let me interrupt.” Joe chuckled, his arms moving around her waist.
“You could never!”
“Besides,” Jack called over, “I need a break. You’re getting tagged in.”
“Come dance with me, babe,” She started walking backwards, tugging him along with her.
“I think dancing is more of a Jack thing…”
“Mate, dance with your girlfriend!” Jack said, falling onto the couch.
“Alright, alright,” Joe laughed, picking up where Jack left off.
Although it didn’t take long before Jack had joined back in, the three of them singing at the top of their lungs, sharing the hair brush Y/N had brought down with her.
Summary: Imagine Bellamy saving you from Mount Weather. Requested
You stood on the dropship ramp, anxiously panting as the loud pops of gunfire echoed in your ears. Bombs went off, blasting dirt and body parts into the air. Arrows flew, rapidly whizzing past your ears before meeting their fleshy targets with master precision. Those targets were your friends, the foot soldiers that fought valiantly to protect their newfound home but their efforts had fallen short.
Clarke had just called for the troops to fall back as the relentless grounder army advanced on camp, slashing their way through the delinquents and leaving a bloody trail of death in their wake. You had hesitantly followed her orders, retreating to the protective walls of the spaceship, but you couldn’t seem to remove yourself from the doorway. You refused the let the dropship doors close without Bellamy aboard.
Amidst the chaos, you saw him. He had just poked his greasy mop top out of one of the foxholes, gazing at the madness of camp with a rifle clutched firmly in his hands.
“Bellamy!” you called out, urging him to make his way to the dropship immediately.
Clarke was getting ready to shut the doors, prepared to roast the grounders alive with the dropship’s thrusters and Bellamy would join them if he didn’t make haste.
As Bellamy’s eyes locked with yours, you felt a subtle sense of relief. He was unharmed, he was alive, and if he floored it, he had just enough time to make it into the dropship and into your arms. That small glimmer of hope was quickly dashed by a tall and fearsome grounder stepping into Bellamy’s path.
You screamed as you watched the grounder viciously knock Bellamy to the ground. He scrambled backward in the dirt as the grounder held him at the mercy of his sword but before Bellamy could come face to face with the grim reaper, Finn dove into action to rescue his friend.
The two young men seemed to struggle against the prowess of the grounder. They wrestled back and forth in the dirt and just as soon as Finn had freed Bellamy from the jaws of death, it was now the spacewalker that was being choked within an inch of his life.
“Bellamy!” you shrieked again.
Bellamy looked at you and then at his dying friend. And you knew that he would never abandon a friend in need to solidify his own safety. He made brief eye contact with you, giving you a reassuring nod before tackling the grounder off of Finn.
“No!” you cried.
Miller and Clarke grabbed you, forcefully pulling you into the ship as you kicked and screamed in rebellion.
That was your last memory of Bellamy and it haunted you even now as you lingered in the shadow of your own demise.
You had spent the past three days captive in a steel cage inside of Mount Weather. The price you paid for freedom was pain in the form of a drill. They only released you from your cell to harvest your precious bone marrow. Your body was weak, your joints ached, and a sharp pain pervaded your chest with every drawn breath. You suffered so much from the torturous procedure that you nearly welcomed death.
It wasn’t the incessant buzzing of the drill or the burning agony that came with it that made you want to give up the ghost, but it was the thought of living in a world without your best friend that made you believe that surviving just wasn’t worth the fight anymore.
For all you knew, Bellamy hadn’t survived the fiery blast at the drop ship. It had been weeks since you’d felt his warm embrace or relished in his tender kiss and you were beginning to think that you would die without ever experiencing those earthly pleasures ever again. And a life void of Bellamy Blake didn’t seem like a life worth living.
It was your turn again. The lab assistants dragged your limp body from the cage and placed you on the operating table underneath the blinding, white light. You didn’t fight back as they strapped you down. You just closed your eyes, knowing this was it. With your weakening condition, it would only take one more bone marrow extraction for them to finish you off. Your only hope was that Bellamy might’ve been on the other side waiting to take your hand and welcome you into the afterlife.
Instead of hearing the high pitched screech of the drill, you heard two gunshots ring out into the room. You heard the weight of the two lab assistants hitting the concrete floor. And out of the blinding light of the lamp, the frame of a Mount Weather guard became clear.
His helmet-clad face was looking down at you as he removed the belted straps that held you in place. Once you were free, he removed his goggles and helmet to reveal messy dark hair and deep brown eyes.
“Bellamy…” you whispered.
He took your frail body into his arms and lifted you off of the table. He cradled you close to him, rocking you gently against his chest.
“Shhh…I’m here,” Bellamy whispered. He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You’re going to be okay…you’re going to be okay.”
can I just say that I love the shoulder/neck roll that Shepard started doing as an idle in me2
mostly because it fuels my headcanon that the Cerberus dudes fucked something up with how the joints fit and now they click or grind or make this really obscenely loud popping sound and Shepard does it around Miranda just to be petty
and every time it happens Miranda like, visibly cringes, and Shepard’s like “you hear that? that didn’t used to happen. THAT’S NOT SOMETHING MY JOINTS DID, MIRANDA. YOU FUCKED UP MY JOINTS AND NOW THEY CLICK. I’M STUCK WITH CLICKY JOINTS, MIRANDA”
Let me start with this: Miike Snow have always been a phenomenal group. Animal may be one of the best songs of all time, but that’s an argument for another day. But I do think they’ve found their groove in the anthemic pop sound of Heart Is Full.
The desire to fall back asleep comes as easily as the urge to draw a breath. Clarke’s frequent presence in the commander’s quarters was an open secret known by the maids and ambassadors alike, though none would dare to speak out of such things after Lexa’s triumph against the false prophets that were felled just short of Polis, her strength and throne assured in the process.
“Heda,” the young handmaiden nodded at Lexa’s wave of dismissal and set the breakfast at the table by the foot of the bed. She dared to glance at the sprawling golden aureate hair and bare shoulder that slipped out from blankets adjacent, quickly averting her eyes.
“You are not required today.” Lexa reconfirmed, bleary eyed and yawning.
“Yes, Heda.” she quickly retreated and Lexa rolled her eyes in the knowledge of the quiet gossip that would come.
She stretched awake, arching the column of her spine and sighing into the relief that followed each loud pop. The blankets were quickly kicked off, though the amount of blankets she had in her possession decreased every night spent beside Clarke’s hoarding shape, hooking her hips around the furs and claiming them one by one.
Next was the trunk. A cumbersome wooden and steel box that came with her station, filled each morning with the most crucial documents for the days and weeks ahead, usually trade agreements and tithe papers. It sat on the table beside a breakfast of fruits and barley water, carried in every morning at the stroke of dawn ready for her appraisal over what was usually a short meal.
Today the trunk was mercifully light with just a few urgent requests for materials from Arkadia, rushing to build their first settlements in time for their first harsh winter. Easily remedied, Lexa mused as she flicked through the list, ripe persimmon between her fingers.
The sound of movement earned her full attention as she set down the papers and turned to face the foot of the bed, leaning against the table, smirking at the sight that greeted her. Clarke’s hand emerged from the blankets first, slapping and feeling out the vacant side of the blankets, sighing and earnest in her disappointment.
“Good morning, Wanheda.” Lexa cleared her throat and smirked, waiting for it.
On this day in music history: March 11, 1972 - “Talking Loud And Saying Nothing” by James Brown hits #1 on the Billboard R&B singles chart for 1 week, also peaking at #27 on the Hot 100 on March 18, 1972. Written by James Brown and Bobby Byrd, it is the thirteenth chart topping single for “The Godfather Of Soul”. Co-written with longtime stalwart Bobby Byrd, “Talking Loud” expresses Brown’s frustration at various things going on his personal life, from pressures he faces in both business and personal relationships, to the disingenuous attitudes of public political figures. The song is first recorded on February 24, 1970 at King Studios in Cincinnati, OH with band members John “Jabo” Starks" (drums), William “Bootsy” Collins (bass), Phelps “Catfish” Collins (guitar), Bobby Byrd (organ), Johnny Griggs (congas), Clayton “Chicken” Gunnells (trumpet), Darryl “Hassan” Jamison (trumpet), Robert McCollough (tenor saxophone), and St. Clair Pinckney (baritone saxophone). This first version is cut with a straight ahead “rock” arrangement with a fuzz guitar part played by “Catfish” Collins. It is issued as a single but is quickly withdrawn from sale, when Brown has a change of heart about its commercial chances. The band re-cut the song on October 1, 1970 at Bobby Smith Studios in Macon, GA, instead of James’ original choice of near by Capricorn Studios. The new version is scheduled for release that Fall, but the singer changes his mind yet again, shelving “Talking Loud” in favor of “Soul Power” in March of 1971. The second recording “Talking Loud And Saying Nothing” is finally issued as a two part single in February of 1972, nearly a year after Brown dissolves the band that recorded it after a European tour. A longer version of the song clocking in at over five and a half minutes turns up on the album “There It Is” in June of 1972. A remixed version of the track running over seven and half minutes is first released on the compilation album “In The Jungle Groove” in 1986, and is also added to CD release of “There It Is” in 1992. The complete, unedited version of “Talking Loud And Saying Nothing” running over fourteen and a half minutes, is released on the compilation “Funk Power 1970: A Brand New Thang” in June of 1996.