mostly just because of her


Ghostbusters + times Erin’s blue eyes looked especially b l u e

I created the ayakashi and taught them words. I wanted to talk to them.

LBM17 is over, but I have a little gem for you: Visiting my favorite “item shop” on the convention. I went there like 5 times a day (because it was nice and cheap) and greeted the cute cashier this way upon entering. Always.

The convention was amazing. Being Ardyn for three days (instead of two) was the best thing ever. Really. It was so much fun meeting all the other FFXV Cosplayers. Maybe a small selfie-post will follow later. (and i have a cute little clip of Noctis)

Persever to Enjoy

Izaya doesn’t think of himself as a coward. He regularly faces situations that he’s sure would reduce most people to stammering terror, laughs in the face of danger that would drop most to their knees to plead for their lives. Shizuo tells him he’s reckless, that he’s an adrenaline junkie, that he should be more careful in almost everything he does; Izaya isn’t afraid of the yakuza, or physical danger, or heights, or crowds. He can and does deal with a whole range of things accounted frightening or even downright deadly, depending on the circumstances, and as a rule he never experiences anything more than a shiver of excitement more pleasant than otherwise, if the situation is truly dire enough.

And just at the moment, he is absolutely terrified.

“Izaya,” Shizuo says from alongside him, his voice dropping into that tolerant range that would draw irritation from Izaya’s lips in an ordinary situation, that would pull frustration over his tongue if he dared trust the thrum of panic in his throat to coherent sound. “Are you going to be okay?”

Izaya can’t answer out loud. He’s afraid if he opens his mouth he’s going to whimper audibly, and if he does that he thinks he might stop walking entirely, and if he does that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to move forward again. He ducks his head into a nod instead, a sharp movement that he’s sure looks exactly as insincere as it feels.

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Joker x Harley Quinn  (fanfic I’ll never finish)

-Joker and Harley fight. Harley leaves. Henchmen bring her back. Henchmen leave and Joker talks to Harley.

*****FLASHBACK - to the fight that made Harley leave **** 

“You’re so weak! Why do I even keep you around? All you do is mess things up for me!”

Joker yelled, stalking towards her and backhanded her across the cheek.

Anger blinded Harley’s rational thoughts and before she knew it, her open hand had hit him across the face right back. As soon as her slap hit him, all anger disappeared. Like the sound of skin hitting skin had flipped a switch in her mind and her anger was gone, and replacing it was guilt.

“Puddin,” Her mouth dropped open in shock, “I’m so sorry.” Tears filled her eyes and regret filled her stomach.

For a second, Joker eyes seemed almost as shocked as she was and then he blinked, his eyes flashed and fury was the only emotion Harley saw. She kept apologizing as he advanced towards her, his hands grasping onto her neck and cutting off her air supply. He shook her as she cried.

“How dare you!” Joker’s voice was so guttural, so furious, “You mess up my business deal, cheat me out of millions, and then strike me like it’s my fault?”

The tears flooded down Harley’s face as he slammed her head into the wall and stars rose in her vision. Joker pushed her up against the wall, caging her with his body, his arms shook with rage around her neck. His growls were enough to make a lion tremble.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Harley kept repeating her voice horse from the lack of air. But still she repeated her apology, for her slap for her stupidity, she kept apologizing until all her air was gone and she was just mouthing the words. Still she apologized, black spots appeared in her vision and just as she was about to pass out, Joker let her go.

Gasping for air she didn’t deserve, Harley fell to the floor at his feet. The black in her vision started to clear. Now the only object obscuring her vision was her tears as she continued to cry. Out of the corner of her eye, Harley saw Joker disappear out of the bedroom door. Gunshots sounding in the hallway as his fury raged on. She heard the front door slam a few moments after that.

Harley followed the Joker’s path out of the bedroom door, she almost tripped over a body laying facedown on the floor. A dead henchmen, his blood staining the carpets. Harley bent down, pushing the dead henchmen’s body over and grabbing his large abandoned gun. She held the gun in her hands and walked towards the door. She didn’t deserve to be in this house, didn’t deserve Mr. J. He was right it was her fault, her fault, her fault. Harley reached the front door and tore it open.

“Ms. Quinn,” One of the nameless henchmen spoke, “Remember, Mr. J doesn’t like it when you leave like-“

Harley fired off the weapon behind her, not even looking to see if she hit her target. She opened the front door and ran out of it. The pouring rain cleared her thoughts, woke her up, she walked right into the street. Shooting a driver as they sped towards her and stole their car.

Then, she drove.


Harley started to cry again at her memory. Now, she was now seated on the floor of a motel. She didn’t know exactly where she was, somewhere outside of Gotham she supposed. Harley also wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting in the motel room, only that the daylight outside had turned dark. She had driven with blurry vision until she happened upon this motel on the side of the road, bodies littered the floor in the lobby and hallways until Harley had found an empty room. My fault.

Every time they fought, Joker left to get the rest of his anger out by killing everyone he came in contact with. Then he would come back to their bed and hold Harley close to him all night long, in his own way of apologizing. But it wasn’t he who needed to apologize now.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Harley perked up as she heard people running, from how much sound they were making, Harley assumed it was men. And there were a lot of them. From sound alone, Harley figured there were more than ten. Maybe more than twenty. The cops?  The sound of running grew louder and louder, doors now started to slam open. They were in the hallway Harley was in. Harley check the bullets in her gun, she gripped the gun and pointed it at the door.

She heard doors being opened slowly now, she could imagine the police opening the doors as if a wild lion was behind them. Slow, careful not to disrupt the lion. What they didn’t know was this lion was already disturbed. This lion was prepared to pounce.

The feet were finally at Harley’s door, she readied her finger on the trigger of the gun and waited. Maybe this will make me feel better. The door knob turned slowly and the door opened even slower. Suddenly, Harley had a gun pointed at her too. Until the person on the others side of the door realized who they were pointing a gun at.

“Frosty?” Harley felt like smiling. He was in a tux, like always, with a bullet proof vest over it. Behind him were masked henchmen, in weird funny masked that could only be from Mr. J’s mind. Harley’s heart broke. My fault.

“Ms. Quinn, I need you to come back with us. Mr. J is expecting you.” Frost let out a sigh of relief, almost like his life was on the line. Harley’s giggle was hysterical, it probably was.

Harley walked out of the door of her motel room and towards the exit. She climbed into the front seat of a expensive black escalade. Frost and a few henchmen joined her, not looking or talking to her much. Like they were told not too. Frost was making a phone call.

“Boss?” Harley could hear Mr. J’s grumbled reply on the other side, “We got her. Driving back now. Do you want to talk to her?”  

Harley was hopeful for a moment, staring at the phone in Frost’s hand. Trying to hear what was said on the other side. Frost hung up the phone, he started the car, and turned onto the highway as if the phone call had never happened. More tears sprang to her eyes, she turned towards the window of the car so the henchmen couldn’t see.  My fault. My fault. My fault.


“Ms. Quinn?” Frost asked, his eyes down, “Boss wants to talk to you.”

Harley grasped the phone like a lifeline, she wished the henchmen weren’t in the car. One glance at them and they all turned their heads, all but plugged their ears. Frost started the car and turned onto the highway.

“Puddin?” Harley asked in an innocent tone, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Come straight to my office when you get home.” He hung up.

The car ride was silent except for Harley’s quick crying breaths.

Harley walked toward Joker’s office with only Frost in front of her. Frost opened the door to Mr. J after knocking twice. He walked through the door and she followed him in. Mr. J was seated at his desk, his chair was turned away from the door. As they entered, he turned around. A

“Sit down.” Joker pointed at the seat across from his desk. His anger radiated off of him.

“Puddin, I missed you-“

He stopped her with a hand and pointed at the seat again. Harley sighed and walked to sit in the seat. Joker took a deep breath in and out before he started speaking, his eyes hadn’t left her face. She hadn’t even seen him blink yet.

“Would you like to explain why you didn’t come home?”

“You made an oath to me.” Joker placed his hands on either armrest of her chair, caging her in. “You belong to me.”

“If you leave again-“ Joker’s lips were an inch away from her.

Harley shook her head immediately, “I won’t.”

“If you do,” His hands clasped around the top of her arms tightly, “this will end very differently.”


“You belong to me.” Joker said clearly, deadly, “Don’t you remember your oath?”

“Yes, of course I do.” Harley’s eyes stayed locked on his, “I live for you. That’s been true since I met you, it will always be true.”

“Are you still mine?” Joker leaned towards her.

“I’ll always be yours.” Harley answered … “You know that, Mr. J.”

Joker ran a hand through his hair and walked around the desk until he was stood in front of Harley.

“Now, since daddy is so forgiving. I’m gonna let you sleep on the couch tonight and not the bench outside.” Joker said, leaning close and placing his hands on the armrests of her chair.

“No, puddin.” Harley cried, quickly cupping his face with her hands, “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. It’s so cold on the couch.”

He tried to twist out of her hands but she held on, running her thumbs over his cheeks softly.

“Get a blanket.” Joker snapped, “Harley, I don’t like to punish you but I can’t just let you walk out like that.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. J.” Harley brought her face close to his, “I won’t do it again, I promise I won’t. Please, J.” Her lips were a breath against his she moved her arms to wrap around his shoulders, holding him close to her.  

Joker wasn’t backing down, “Enough.” He tore his body out of her hands and slicked back his hair again, “If you don’t stop now, I’m going to make your punishment more severe.”

Harley stood up out of her chair and ran her hands down his chest, “How severe, daddy?” She put on her most innocent voice.

“Harley.” He grabbed her hands in a tight grip. “You’re on thin ice. Go away or you’ll be sleeping on the bench outside with one hand missing.”

Harley lowered her eyes in defeat…

She slowly wrapped her arms around his chest, resting her cheek against his heart, hugging him tightly. His arms stayed at his sides.

“I missed you so much.”

Harley sat down beside him silently, he didn’t move. His head still in his hands. Harley moved to wrap her arms around his shoulders and he pushed her away.

“Harley,” He growled, “Don’t test my patience.”

“Puddin,” She whispered, “I’m sorry. Please.” She hesitantly wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “It will never happen again, I promise.” She whispered, slowly gently pushing his head onto her shoulder… Harley stroked her fingers through his hair softly, helping him to relax against her.

… He growled into her skin, his head twitched back and forth a few times, and then finally he relaxed. He took a deep breath and let her hold him.

After a long while, … She didn’t know how long they sat like that. Her holding him and apologizing softly. Joker purring and growling against her neck… like his head and his body were at war with one another.

A long time later… Joker pushed off her shoulder and quick as lightning, had her chin in between two of his fingers.

“If you ever leave again,” Joker growled, bringing his face close so she heard every syllable of his threat, “this will end very differently.”

“I won’t.” Harley shook her head as best she could with him holding her face OR Harley’s eyes stayed locked with his, the finality in her promise clear.

Joker took a deep breath. In, out. Then rested his forehead against hers.


Joker stared at her unblinking until the answer in her eyes became clear (???).

“You belong to me.” Joker’s lips brushed her as he talked.

“Forever.” Harley promised.

Harley’s eyes stayed locked with his, the finality in her promise clear.

“I’m sorry, J.” Harley whispered in her most innocent tone, “It won’t ever happen again. I’m so sorry.”

Joker stared at her for a while longer. …

“You’re lucky I’m so forgiving.” He said finally.

Harley smiled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly.

“I missed you so much.” She felt tears hit her eyes again.

Harley tears had finally ceased around three in the morning. She was curled up on the couch unable to sleep without Joker next to her. …

(???) Even with her eyes closed, she saw a light turn on and a door open.  … She opened her eyes and saw Joker’s silhouette in the light of the open door. He looked at her and seemed to find that her eyes were open.

He snapped his head back and forth, growled, and then rose two fingers and motioned her towards him. Harley was immediately on her feet and running towards him. She stopped in front of him. … Joker cupped a hand underneath her chin and forced her to look at him in the eyes.

“Don’t ever leave again.” Joker demanded slowly so she heard every word … and the threat behind them.

“Never again. I promise, puddin.” She promised desperate for his forgiveness.

“Harley,” He clinched and unclenched his free hand, “I will not tell you this again. This is my final warning. If you walk out-“ He cut himself off squeezing his hand under her chin, closing off her air supply.

Harley couldn’t help the desire that rose in her lower stomach.

“It won’t happen again.” Harley … declared.

Joker held her eyes for one second more and then let her go.

“Get in bed.” He said finally.

“Thank you, puddin.” Harley smiled, walking into the bedroom and climbing in. Joker shut the door, bathing them both in darkness.

They both lay still for a moment, Harley knew he was still angry at her. That he wasn’t in the mood to forgive her yet. But she was back in their bed, so that was a good sign. She tried to disguise moving closer to him as trying to find a comfortable spot, she ended up rolled up her side about an inch away from him. Not touching. Harley’s body burned, she wanted to touch him so badly.

… Harley looked up at his face in the darkness… she knew he wasn’t asleep. Usually the only way he could was when she massaged his scalp and body. …

Harley hesitantly, bravely, placed her head on his chest over his heart.

Immediately the Joker pushed her away from him.

“Don’t test me, Harley.” He said, “I’m still mad at you.”

“Yes, sir.” Harley decided to play good, wanting so badly to be back on his good(???) side. She scooted away from him.

A few more minutes passed of silence, Harley didn’t move. She tried to hold back her tears… Joker’s head was snapping back and forth. His growl like an angry lion who hadn’t been fed in days. … Suddenly, his arm grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him.


SKAM 1:09

“What is this bullshit about what kind of person I am? Maybe I am someone who gives up! I don’t know! Why would you know what kind of person I am? Everyone is like: ‘what kind of person are you? you have to know who you are!’ What a fucking cliche.”

Six of Crows as musical

- Wylan would be the protagonist and the whole musical is about him developing from this good mercher’s son to this badass gang member
- Jesper is one of the main reasons for the character development
- Jesper and Nina would sing all the jazzy songs
- Kaz would be that person who is all gloomy in the beginning and isn’t too fond of music but then discovers the joy music brings
- He learns to play the piano pretty quick and he’s a fucking genious
- Inej would sing all the slow songs accompanied by Kaz on the piano, if he’s in a good mood he might join in and sing aswell
- but mostly he just wants to listen to Inej sing because her voice is too angelic and so damn pure
- Matthias doesn’t like joining in the singing but sometimes Nina can convince him to play the guitar
- Nina and Jesper love the dancing parts, all the others hate dancing

anonymous asked:

would you please write some more supercorp? whenever you want! thank you!

alex lets her get away with moping for only four days before she strides into kara’s apartment, a sense of purpose dressed in leather. she shuts the door behind her and, instead of responding to what feels like an appropriately indignant “hey that’s my door, remember!”, alex just snaps her fingers and points kara to the couch.

she places her helmet on the kitchen island, taking a moment to steady herself as kara decides—of her own volition, not because alex is scary at all—to take a seat on her couch.

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CONFESSION:  I headcanon that during Morrigan’s romance, a warrior warden names his weapon after Morrigan mostly because it just annoys her, and it annoys her because she actually thinks it’s really sweet which even further annoys her. And every time she complains the warden gets a big grin on his face            

anonymous asked:

45 Nessian

45. “you don’t scare me.”

Part one


It’s been like this for months now. Fighting, fucking, then more fighting. Mostly Nesta fighting because Cassian would provoke her and then just sit and smirk while she screams. 

It was easier for her this way, to be angry at him all the time. Because when she wasn’t angry, well, she started to care about Cassian long ago. Even if she’d never admit that to herself. 

“You don’t have to run away, you know, right after we’re done. You can wait at least until your legs stop shaking.” Cassian said and laughed as Nesta get off of him and had to grab a chair in order to maintain her balance. “I’m so good that you’re going to faint, sweetheart?” 

“Do you ever shut up? How did Rhys and Azriel survive with you all this years?” He got up and was in front of her in a second. 

He gripped her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. “Now you want me to be quiet, hmm? Just a minute ago you’re moaning while I was saying all those dirty things in your ear.” He said in his deep, seductive voice and took her bottom lip between his teeth. She couldn’t help herself and a small moan left her lips. 

Laughing, he pulled away and went to find his clothes. “See, the proof.” He said as he put his shirt on. 

“Cassian, all of this is not really getting you any closer to taking me on a date.” She crossed her arms and watched him as he put his hair in a bun. “Who said I wanted to go on a date?” 

“You, at least 46 times” He tossed his head back and laughed. “Ahh true. We will go on a date eventually.” And then he added after a few seconds “When you stop being scared.” 

It was her turn to laugh now. “You don’t scare me.”

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath as he look at her and said quietly, “Not me. But how I might make you feel.”

Send any ship

I literally could not be happier right now.

Through The Door

Fili X Mixed!Fem!Reader

Characters: Fili, Kili, Thorin, Gandalf, Bilbo, Dwalin, Balin, Oin, Bombur, Bofur

Fandom: The Hobbit/LOTR

Prompt/plot: the reader is from our world and she notices a strange looking door. She goes through it and it takes her to Middle Earth. The door closes behind her and disappears. She then meets the company, and has no choice but to travel along the company

Requested: Yes! By the lovely @17baldwinn! Thank you so much honey!

Warning(s): some cursing

Word count: 1,891

A/N: I’m so incredibly sorry for not updating! I checked and I didn’t update for almost 2 months! I feel really bad so I’m gonna try my best to update more, but no promises! My school year isn’t very long anymore and I still have loads to do. Enjoy reading, my loves! Also, I made the reader for this mixed because I feel there’s quite a lack of POC in the fandom and as a mixed girl myself, I like to see more of it and so be a part of the change! AND it’s gonna be multiple parts!!

Originally posted by chuckxavier

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annabehth  asked:

mesta + 12?

“i’m pretty good at providing distractions.” from this ask meme

Nesta groans, fingers still poised over the keys of her laptop, head falling down to rest against the open book in front of her. 

“How much have you got left?” Mor asks, sympathetic, from across the table where her own spread of books creeps over their shared spot in the library. 

“Five hundred words,” Nesta says, frowning when she lifts up, staring at the blinking cursor on her screen.  “But then I have the reading for tomorrow too.” 

“Technically you don’t have–” Mor starts, cut off with Nesta’s glare. Just because Mor’s study habits mostly involve binge watching netflix and charming her professors into giving her extensions on everything doesn’t mean Nesta holds herself to the same standards. Although at midnight in an empty library, she’s much more inclined to adopt her girlfriend’s work habits. 

“I just need to not be doing this already,” Nesta says, flipping through the stack of articles next to her to find that one she’d forgotten to incorporate. 

“What you need is a distraction,” Mor says casually. When Nesta glances up at her, curious, Mor smirks. “Luckily I happen to be pretty good at providing those.” 

Nesta knows exactly what her girlfriend is thinking but… “I can’t go home yet, Mor.” 

“Who said we have to go home?” 

She pauses, tapping the keys thoughtfully without actually pressing any down.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it before,” Mor purrs, and when Nesta looks across at the work spread out over her half of the table, she realizes all Mor has been doing is reading a novel, not actually being productive. She’s waiting for Nesta to finish.

“In the library?” Nesta insists, slightly incredulous. 

“If you can be quiet enough,” Mor teases. It’s a challenge Nesta isn’t going to back down from. 

She shoves her chair back, Mor following quickly after her. 

Keep reading


With his one arm around Mc, he used the other to scroll through his phone. It was nice. They occasionally spoke to share something interesting, but for the most part, it was quiet. They both had their earphones plugged in, so they each listened to what they wanted.

Ota, bored, glanced over Mc to see what she was doing. Rather than looking through her phone, she was staring off into space. Her hands were clenched into fist, similar to how she acted when she was mute.

“…Mc?” Ota mumbled, not wanting to startle her. “What’s up…?”

Mc suddenly blinked, as if she was snapping out of a trance. She turned over to Ota, her eyes still confused.
“Oh, Ota?”

Ota frowned at her reaction. Something was up. Retracting his arm from her, he then moved it so that his arm was resting near her side. He gently placed his hand on top of hers.

“You’re acting spacey. It’s worrying me…”

Mc, seeing his worried reaction, glanced away. “I’m sorry.”
When she loosened up her fist, Ota laced his fingers in between hers. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his hand.

“Don’t be. I just wanted to know if something’s up.”

Mc bit her lip before breathing out. She looked down at her phone once more before speaking.
It was on the camera app.
“Sorry for being so weak.”

“Weak? What do you mean?” Ota questioned. He didn’t understand what she was talking about. While she may not be the strongest physically, she was mentally tougher than anyone he knew. She’s endured way too much over the years to be considered weak.

“It’s just that even though the whole…incident…happened so long ago, I’m still afraid. Whenever I hear the flash of a camera, I flinch. I can still feel the blinding light of the camera, the threats of the people who confronted me. I don’t know.” Mc sighed, squeezing Ota’s hand. While she may have appeared calm, subtle hints showed she wasn’t.

Ota didn’t say a word, continuing to listen to Mc’s words. He didn’t want to interrupt her worries or dismiss them.

“I…I feel like I’m being a burden. It’s just the simple flash option, but I can’t even handle that whenever I take a photo with you. I’m sorry.” Mc apologized once more.

Ota gazed at Mc for a little while before giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Mc, you’re not a burden. I never use the flash anyway,” Ota joked. “Besides, you went through a traumatic event. I don’t blame you for being scared; it’s natural to be to. You’re not weak. You’re strong for getting through it.” 

Mc’s eyes wavered before closing her eyes. Tear drops dripped down, Mc quickly wiping them away. Despite that, they continued to fall.

“You-you’re so nice to someone like me.  I love you. I love you so much.”
While Mc still had her doubts and thoughts about being weak, it was nice to have reassurance. Ota smiled fondly at her, holding her close.

The two held each other tightly, basking in each other’s warmth.

“I love you too, Mc.”


riley appreciation:  Rileytown is a land of goodness and rainbows.
Character Traits [3/3] ⇄ insecure (◡﹏◡✿)  


Persephone- goddess of spring and queen of the underworld (x)

SGA WIP Sharing

Excerpt from my old WIP, Fortune and Glory, in which John is an adventuring archaeologist and Rodney is a concert pianist whose life has taken a turn. Fusion with Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Because @randommindtime is giving me thinky thoughts about it again.


He took several menial jobs, and degraded himself on more than one occasion, until he landed his current gig playing piano at Club Obi Wan. He made shit wages but got to eat for free. It was no concert hall. He played popular tripe like Blue Moon and Red Sails in the Sunset, accompaniment for the stable of scantily clad dancing girls and the blonde tomato that was the star of the show. (Willie Scott was an American, a fact made apparent by her big mouth and deplorable lack of manners.)

Meredith – he was going by Rodney these days, a way to distance himself from his mistakes and the person he used to be –finished off Anything Goes with a flourish, not that anyone cared. Willie made an immediate beeline for Lao Che, the owner of the club and a high-ranking member of the local crime syndicate, not to mention Willie’s sugar daddy. She simpered over him and Rodney just rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what her story was, mostly because he just really, really didn’t care, but it was obvious to him that her appeal was already starting to wane with the boss.

Normally Rodney paid little attention to the goings-on in the club, apart from those that affected him directly, but his gaze lingered on Lao Che’s table as he made his own way back towards the kitchen. Lao Che was sitting with his usual bodyguards, and one of his sons who sported a heavily bandaged hand and looked worse for wear. There was another man, too, wearing a white tuxedo jacket and slouching in his chair in a way that marked him as an American. He was incredibly good-looking, with his dark hair sticking up in haphazard cowlicks and a smirky tilt to his lips.

Rodney flushed and made himself look away, tugging nervously on his own gray tuxedo; the club orchestra always wore gray. He wanted out of this stupid, fish-eating country in the worst way but he was done compromising his morals to do so. He figured he only had three, four months tops before he’d saved enough for a boat ticket home. After that, if he never saw rice again it would be too soon.

He was almost to the kitchen when all hell broke loose. Women were screaming, one of Lao Che’s men was on fire, and it seemed like every employee pulled out automatic weapons. Rodney dropped to the floor and laced his hands protectively over his head as the guests started to stampede and bullets started to fly.

“Oh, God!” Rodney’s heart was pounding and he felt very strongly that he didn’t want to die in that stupid club. He didn’t know what to do and remained frozen with indecision until a man dropped to the floor in front of him, his white shirt stained red with blood. Rodney choked off a scream and scuttled backwards on his hands and knees until he fetched up against the wall. Someone stepped squarely on his hand and he cursed, cradling the bruised appendage to his chest. Thank goodness it hadn’t been a stiletto heel.

Through the mass of humanity rushing around pell-mell Rodney spotted Willie. She was also on her hands and knees, and seemed to be chasing something across the floor. She picked up a chunk of ice in one spangled glove but lost it when someone knocked into her arm. Rodney lost sight of her after that, but then a little glass vial filled with blue liquid came skittering in his direction. He snapped his hand out and snatched it up, even though he had no idea what it was.

“Stay there!”

Rodney looked up and saw the handsome American pointing at him. He looked pretty bad – sweaty and flushed, his tuxedo jacket torn and stained. Maybe the vial was his. Rodney tucked it into the pocket of his jacket for safe keeping.

Balloons started dropping from the ceiling, triggered too early: white and black and red and pink, so many that the entire club floor was lost beneath them. Somehow the American made his way across the room without getting shot, though he did have to exchange blows with one of Lao Che’s bodyguards. He was clearly a tough customer and Rodney was no fool. Things at Club Obi Wan were a little too hot for his liking and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to fight past the guns and the mob to get out. He was going to need some help.

“Give me the antidote,” the American demanded when he got close enough. He held out his hand, which was noticeably trembling.

“Antidote? Antidote for what?” As soon as he asked the question Rodney knew the answer. Whatever business dealings this guy had with Lao Che had gone south and the boss had poisoned him, one of his favored bargaining techniques.

“Never mind. Get me out of here and you can have it.” Rodney gave him an appraising look. “And you’d better hurry.”

The American scowled but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed hold of Rodney’s wrist and dragged him towards the nearest window. Gunfire spat at them from across the room and they both dropped to a crouch.

“This is suicide!” Rodney snatched his hand back. “There’s no cover!”

Except suddenly there was. The American pulled him behind a decorative gong just as more people started shooting at them. Bullets pinged musically off the burnished metal surface and the ropes that held it hanging must’ve gotten severed because the whole thing dropped to the floor with a clang that Rodney could feel in his fillings.

“Let’s go!” the American hissed at him. The gong was rolling towards the window and they went with it, keeping low and out of sight.

“Not the window!” Rodney protested but there was no stopping their forward momentum, particularly when the American grabbed hold of his shoulder and pushed him.

They crashed through the window and Rodney kept his arms up to protect his face from the broken glass. There was a momentary weightless feeling before he plummeted downward, his mouth pressed tightly shut to keep from screaming. He and the American hit an awning, which collapsed and sent them rolling onto the next one with similar results. Rodney kept waiting to feel himself splatter across the pavement, but the successive awning bouncing had slowed their velocity enough so that the last one held. He sat there mute with terror and incredulity, staring back up at the window they’d fallen from.

“It’s okay, buddy.” The American did a fancy backwards flip off the awning that would’ve been more impressive had he not stumbled when he landed, staggering drunkenly under the effects of the poison in his system. Rodney stared down at him and all of a sudden his terror morphed into anger.

“Are you whacky? You could’ve killed me! I could’ve died!”

“Well, you didn’t. But I still can, so the antidote please?”

Rodney glared, but he scooted forward to the edge of the awning and carefully lowered himself down to street level. Just as his feet touched concrete more bullets were fired from the club window in their general direction.

“What did you do to these guys?” Rodney pressed himself up against the side of the building. The American ignored him, glancing up and down the street until he broke out in a wide grin.

“There’s our ride!”

anonymous asked:

I don't mean to get up in your personal business, but how did your gf bring up that she didn't like it with you? It's something I've wanted to bring up with my bf for awhile because it bothers but I don't want to blindside him or make him feel really bad.

Me and my gf have a very straightforward system in that we just bring it up and discuss it maturely. I mostly appreciate how her premise wasn’t just “i don’t like it because it’s not me” (though that’s how I rationalised it for a long time) but more “This is an addiction that needs to be controlled and porn desensitizes you to sex and abuse.” which are more provable, rational points.