okay this will probably be the last one for tonight

okay I’m so sad that we’ll probably never get a canon supercorp but I’m mostly mad with this new scene of tonight’s episode. Lena’s just being accused, yet again, of something she hasn’t done. fact is, people know they’re dealing with aliens and that there are aliens who can turn into other people. we’ve seen it over and over, it’s basically what last episode’s was about as a matter of fact. but at the moment they get one tape of “said Lena Luthor” messing up there’s an arrest call for her right away. she has no right to explain herself, no one will believe her, except for Kara. that’s why she doesn’t look bothered by the tape -she knows who the fuck she is and that’s not her-, the reason she’s showing worry on her face and tears in her eyes are: does Kara believe in me?? and that’s why she affirms that that’s not her on that tape while looking directly at Kara like she’s asking if she believes in her, because Kara would be the only one.

and Kara does!

summing up: I’m sad and emo and bitter!


Word Count: 2119

Warnings: Mild Language

Request: Hello :) Can I send in a request with Daryl ? Maybe where you both are dating but he didn’t say the words ‘I love you’ yet. So one day you join a run with some others but you end up getting shot accidentally. Then you’re carried back into the prison and as soon Daryl sees you being unconscious he Freaks out and thinks you’re dead. After you get operated, you survive but you’re out for a while. Daryl stays with you and after you wake up, he tells you that he loves you properly ? :) I hope it’s ok.

(( yes yes yes I absolutely love prison requests, it was probably my favorite time period. I made this one kind of long and to all of you who lost something tonight, I hope you’re handling okay. I love you guys and please please don’t harm yourselves over this election. ))

You’ve spent the last twenty minutes entangled in the linen sheets and staring up at the cold steel slab holding the top half of the bunk bed above you, neither you nor Daryl had found the time to cut it off and use it as an extension for the first bunk, so it was just there. You finally decided to get up and start the day. When you swung your feet over the edge of the bed and sat yourself up, you noticed the seemingly empty chair on the opposite side of the cell, meaning Daryl had already left. You ensured the blanket covered cell door was closed off to the outside, then changed into an old grey t-shirt and well fitting jeans. You slipped on and laced up your weathered leather boots and went out into the cell block to see what was on the list for you to do today. You, Glenn, and a few other had signed up to siphon gas from the cars on the side lot today, therefore that’s what you went to do. You navigated through the poorly lit halls of the prison until you made it out front, on your way to start the job. You greeted many other people, children, and friends whilst on your way to the parking lot, asking around if they knew where Daryl was.

“His bike’s still here, so he couldn’t have gone too far, I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Rick responded when you questioned him. Still, without his motorcycle, it worried you that he was with no group. You thanked Rick, then continued on past a couple of cell blocks to find Glenn, Sasha and Bob waiting for you.

The four of you took 45 minutes to siphon 13 gallons of gas from the cop cars abandoned in the lot, then started making trips to the supply room to store them. On your way back to grab the last few gallons, you saw Glenn, Rick and Daryl arguing about something. You took a deep breath, ran your hand through your hair and walked over to see what was going on.

“Wait, guys, what’s going on?” You questioned, attempting to diffuse the situation.

“Daryl brought back a deer,” Rick started.

Keep reading

How Chowder Became a Goalie

[This AU was just for shits and giggles so I hope you have a blast]

“Alright.” Coach Wimmer gives his team all sympathetic looks, like he already knows they are going to lose. They probably are, but team spirit is useful when losing with dignity. “You guys suck.” Coach Wimmer says frankly. “But that’s okay— Let’s try and score at least one point tonight.”

“Coach— there’s something in my skate.” Brandon Finnley complains, raising his hand like he’s in a classroom and not a hockey rink. Their unknown private high school from the middle of nowhere in the state of New Jersey, is about ready to play the last game of their depressing season. They only won two games, and that was because Chris Chow could manage to win in overtime, with a score of 1-1 always tying the game.

Coach ignores him and claps his hands together. “Chow,” He turns to Chris, eyebrows raised. “Score a point for us. Please. My son is here tonight and he already thinks I’m a loser.”

“You got it, Coach Wimmer.” Chris gives him a thumbs up, grinning despite the irritation at his coach. Coach Wimmer’s receding hairline and poor attitude gets on his nerves sometimes, but everyone expects him to be enthusiastic no matter what. God knows his team needs it to keep their spirits up and their sticks down.

Chris Chow’s line skates onto the ice, already solemn and mourning a game that hasn’t even started.

Chris skates up to center, even though he is a forward (he lost the game of noses last night, so they are making him start), and prepares himself for the face-off. The big buff dude from Princeton Day School smirks at him, knowing full well that he is probably going to win the face-off, if not the whole game.

“Maybe if you’re lucky, we won’t beat you 17-0 like last game.” PDS dude laughs, but Chris just gives him a smug smile back, even though he felt anything but confident. Better to go out trying.

Chris Chow is a junior at Melvin Heights, a private school no one knows about until you play against them during any sports game. None of their sports are well-known, which is why their school is practically off the map. Chris Chow never found himself playing hockey professionally, but he loved to watch it and he would even play with his grandpa for fun sometimes. Even though Melvin Heights was unknown, it was still a private school. Chris’s school district was not strong at all, and the only way to get a $5,000 dollar scholarship was to play a sport, because Melvin Heights wanted to be on the map. Their strong performing arts program wasn’t going to cut it, and Chris couldn’t get a scholarship for that anyway. Hockey was his only option since he wasn’t terrible like the rest of the team. Turns out he was some sort of prodigy and made it on to varsity his freshman year, but the lack of talent on the team just made him look alright, not phenomenal. People told him he should join the junior league and think about a professional route, but the truth was, he didn’t play his little heart out for that reason. He just wanted to get into a good college.

Chris Chow did get that scholarship, but he was not prepared for how much of a disaster this team would turn out to be. No one did, really. Melvin Heights focused on improving their football team, so the budget for their hockey team was significantly low. So low, they spent all their scholarship money on Chris Chow and pulled random students kicking and screaming onto their new team.

Chris doesn’t win the face off, to no ones surprise. PDS scores within the first minute, because Melvin Heights goalie decided to get a drink of water without any sort of warning.

It’s not like Chris Chow didn’t care about hockey, he actually really cared about it. He loved to win and being a part of a team, but this was hardly a team. They weren’t even playing hockey at this point.

Chris Chow loses a game of noses again and has to do another face-off. Right before the ref drops the puck, the clattering of sticks signals there is going to be a fight. Even though fighting is typically looked down upon in high school hockey.

To no one’s surprise, the two players fighting are two of Chris’s teammates. PDS is practically peeing their pants with laughter as Coach Wimmer slaps a hand over his face.

“Knock it off!” Chris snaps, and the two boys stop fighting. Usually Chris Chow doesn’t get mad; in fact, he never becomes angry. However, Chris Chow was currently fed up with his team, which didn’t even try anymore. At least during the beginning of the season everyone gave it their all. Now, the boys just treated it like a big joke like everyone else.

When PDS scores for the fifth time and there’s still five minutes left in the first period, Chris Chow feels himself staying genuinely angry for the first time. This was their last shot at redeeming themselves and possibly getting better players for next season. If they could win this game, it would keep them in the game at least one more time and their season wouldn’t end so early. They have the ability to get the points they need, but no one seems to care.

Chris plays more offensive and tries to do the goalie’s job for him, and it’s a relief when the first period ends and PDS remains with five points instead of six. Chris Chow realizes, with a bitter thought, that he’s been doing the goalie’s job for him the entire season. Chris Chow wasn’t scoring, because he was too busy guarding the net and acting as an out-of-net goalie.

They all file into the locker room, and that’s when Chris Chow approaches their goalie, Thomas Kimbal. “Take it off.” Chris throws off his helmet and begins to strip.

“Chow- what the fuck are you doing?” Thomas laughs, like he thinks Chris is kidding.

Chris stops, gives the most menacing look he can manage, because let’s face it, he’s seen as anything but threatening. “I said take it off. We’re switching. You can’t do your job, so I’m gonna try. We literally have nothing to lose.”

The locker room goes silent, and Coach Wimmer opens his mouth to protest.

“No, pardon me Coach Wimmer-” Chris holds up a hand. “-but shut up.” Chris Chow looks over at all his teammates before continuing. “Is this all a joke to you? Because we’re a joke to everyone else. Do you guys enjoy being the laughing stalk of this entire division?” Chris Chow’s voice raises and everyone stays silent. He’s never raised his voice like this before. “I’m tired of being a joke, okay? No one respects us. Why did this school even create a hockey team if no one cares about it? Do you all realize that we have a shot here? We still have time to accumulate enough points to get as far as we can. Aren’t you guys tired of losing? I’m sure none of you joined this team to be a whole bunch of losers.”

The team glances around at each other, no one is able to speak up, because they are too stunned by Chris’s sudden change in personality.

“Am I wrong?” Chris clarifies.

It’s Finnley who finally speaks up. “You’re not wrong.” He says timidly. “I’m tired of losing too.”

“Yeah, uh, me too.” the right winger says, standing up. “I can’t get a girlfriend, man. I thought playing hockey would make me somewhat attractive.”

Everyone slowly stands up and agrees, and coach nods along with them, slightly shocked. He tells them that the second period is about to start, so Chris turns to Thomas with a determined glare.

“So take it off. We’re trading places.”

“You got it, Chow.”

Being a goalie was different, and the PDS players nor any one else noticed the change in position. If they did notice and didn’t say anything, it was because they didn’t care. It’s not like PDS was complaining; no player ever just became a goalie because they felt like it, that would cost a game. Melvin Heights hockey team didn’t have a choice.

Chris Chow wasn’t prepared for the weight of all the extra padding, and PDS scores within a minute into the second period. Chris’s team looked more pissed off than usual and more determined than they ever have been, and that’s when everything changed.

Chris just translated everything he was doing all season as an unofficial goalie into his movements in the net. Turns out, Chris Chow has been playing the wrong position all his years of hockey, because he wasn’t a forward or a center. He was a goalie. His movements were sharp and calculating, and Melvin Heights managed two goals before the second period ended.

In the third period, PDS didn’t score again. Melvin Heights managed to win in overtime, because Chris Chow never let the puck into the net again.

Chris Chow’s senior year, he applied to Samwell in hopes of a scholarship, and to no one’s surprise, he got full ride. Being a goalie is the only position Chris Chow wanted to pursue as a possible professional route. 

Sneak Attack Heart Attack

Pairing: Pansy Parkinson x Tom Riddle

AU: Modern, non-magical; college student!Pansy, older drug dealer!Tom

Word Count: 1,136

Written For: bunimalsfiberdolls, muclbloods

She meets him by accident.

But it isn’t—it isn’t her fault, okay? It isn’t. The trendy off-campus hipster coffee shop—like, come on, which pretentious Beat-wannabe co-owner asshole had decided it was a good idea to call it the fucking Reading Room, God—anyway, the trendy off-campus hipster coffee shop had been empty. Completely devoid of customers. Just the bored teenaged barista in the neon-fuchsia One Direction tank top and the Suspiciously Hot Guy in the corner.

And, like, what was she supposed to do? She’d had a Calc textbook stuffed into her bag—Marc Jacobs, Fall, 2016, she fucking knew polka-dots were going to stage a comeback—that weighed more than, like, all of the watermelons at Whole Foods combined. She’d been thirsty, and hungry, and tired from the seven-lane traffic clusterfuck that had been the 405-north; she’d been laser-focused on passing her fucking Calc final, and the Suspiciously Hot Guy in the corner had been like her token oasis mirage in the middle of the fucking desert.

Because she’d never actually seen Anthony Goldstein before, only talked to him on the phone, and in the heat of the moment it had seemed categorically unfair to assume that his arrogant, nasally, Claritin-commercial voice couldn’t belong to the guy who was so hot that he was basically making his thousand-dollar leather jacket look like his bitch from where Pansy was standing.


Math tutors could totally have leather jackets and perfect cheekbones and mouths that could inspire some ludicrously shitty descriptive poetry like ‘sinfully swollen’ and ‘dangerously decadent’ and—and math tutors could have eyebrow piercings, okay? They could.

Drug dealers, though—

Drug dealers could not have nametags.

Keep reading

Apocalyptic Love

Okay guys, I wrote this fic because I liked the theme of If the world ends tonight and I wanted a Dean version, so here you go.

I based it on the song Apocalyptic Love by Slash, because I love the lyrics.

It turned out so cheesy that I can´t believe it myself and if this isn´t your thing you probably shouldn´t read it, but yeah… :D

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Song: Apocalyptic love - Slash

Warnings: Smut, so much fluff, cheesyness (again :D)

Length: 1760 Words

{Imagine being with Dean one last time before the apocalypse}

Originally posted by deanyw


(Fat = Lyrics)

“Why didn´t it work? We did everything that stood in the book. There has to be another way. There just has to be, there´s always a way. You´re Dean Winchester, nothing is impossible for you”, you said, starting to get a little hysteric.

You were standing on a field out in the open, staring the city of Chicago, where you knew it all was about to start.
Dean put a hand on you´re shoulder: “Baby, it´s over. This spell was our last chance and it didn´t work, so there´s nothing we can do anymore.”
You turned to him, tears running over your face, clouding your vision and making it hard to breath.
He looked so strong, knife in his hand, like a warrior. Your warrior.
And still there was nothing left to try, nothing left that could save the world.
When you focused on his face again, he was shaking his head: “Stop it (Y/N), that´s not what I want my last memory to be. I want to see you happy.”
You frowned: “Why should I be happy?”
He smiled sadly: “I get it, I do. I have a real bad feeling too, and it might be that there is nothing left to say and I know the worlds going crazy down there now that the end is on it´s way and everyone can feel it, but we´ve got one hot minute to do anything you like.”

First you were about to yell at him that this wasn´t the right time to think about sex, but then again he was right, what was the point in fighting, when you could have apocalyptic sex with your super sexy boyfriend?
A while you just stared at him and then you two kissed, first careful and slow, then passionate and desperate.
After a while he put you down in the grass, which was slightly wet, but due to the fact that it was July, it wasn´t really cold, and why worry about getting a cold, if there was no tomorrow anyway.
He slid off his jacket and you tried to memorize every movement, after all this was the last time you would see him do this.
When you got rid of your jacket too, he started kissing your whole face, your nose, your temple, your cheeks, your ears and the top of your head, then he stopped and looked down at you, smiling, seemingly not disturbed by the fact that this was your last time at all:
“So, what do you want, it´s your call.”
You smiled back at him, amazed by the fact that he still did what he always did, making it about you, making it about you feeling good, and about you being okay with everything.
To tired to think of something overly sexy you wanted to do right now you just stroked over his hair: “This is the last time, I don´t care how we do it, as long as we can love us under the same sky one more time.”
He nodded and then slowly unbuttoned your blouse, kissing you between every little white knob, making you tingle all over.
When he finally had it opened, you sat up a little so that he could take it off completely, leaving you only in your black tank top.
Usually you would have worried about someone coming up here and see you, but the people down there in the city were dealing with their own problems right now.
Dean took off his own shirt and then started to free you from your jeans, while you grabbed his jacket and put it under your back so that you wouldn´t lie on the grass naked soon.
When your pants were gone too, he kissed up your tights, leaving little marks on the inner side, making you moan.
This was Dean being as sensual as always and it still made you feel like this was the first time you were with him.

All we got is tonight

He finally reached your center and brushed your already slightly wet panties with his nose, making you squirm under his breath.

I wanna feel you fallin

He grinned: “I like it that you´re always already so turned on when I get here.”

Right at my side.

You made another mental note, trying to memorize the way he always told you what he liked about you when you were having sex.

Apocalyptic Love

In one swift motion, he got rid of your panties and immediately started working magic with his tongue.

I wanna revel until we die

“Dean”, you shouted and he looked up a little between your legs, which looked so hot you had to push his head back down or you would have come right away.

Until the last light´s faded.

After a few minutes of teasing you mercilessly, he got up, leaving you breathing heavily and longing for him inside you.

I just wanna see you smile.

He smiled at you while he pulled his jeans and boxers off and you actually managed to get rid of your top and your bra, before he came back down to you, fully covering your body with his, making you feel him everywhere and with everything.

I just wanna see you smile

As we burn the pyre.

“I love you (Y/N), I always will, no matter if I actually make it to heaven or if I´ll end up in hell for all eternity. The only thing that will ever be on my mind, will be how much I love you.
You´re everything for me and I´m so glad that if we have to go, at least I got to be with you in the end, because I couldn´t imagine anything better.

This is the last time

Oh, oh

Then he pushed into you, filling you up so good that you immediately pushed your nails in his back, making him groan deliciously.

Don´t care how we do it.

As long as we can

Love under the same sky

He pushed in and out of you slowly, but regularly, making it so intense, but yet so beautiful slow that you could enjoy the whole thing even more.

All we got is tonight.

You started to close your eyes, but he said: “Don´t. Look at me baby, I want to see you the whole time, I want to see how I make you feel, and I want to see it in your eyes when I make you come.”

All we got is tonight.

You followed his command and looked in his green eyes, which were dark with lust. The intense eye contact was really sexy and only a few seconds later you said: “Dean I´m close.”

He smiled again: “I know baby, me too. Come for me one last time.”
And you did, giving in to your orgasm, which was probably the most intense one you ever had, not even because you two did something special in a physical way, but because the feelings were so strong.
When he came too, you tried to hold the eye contact, to make it as intense for him as for you, which seemed to work, given the fact that he was making a very sexy groan.
When it was all over, he pulled out of you and laid down beside you, head turned to you:
You actually had to laugh at this: “What? Are you asking me whether you are good in bed?”
He grinned and nodded.
You rolled your eyes but smiled: “Yes Dean Winchester. That was amazing.”
He kissed you and then got up: “Get dressed, or you´ll get a cold.”
“What´s the point? I won´t get the cold anymore anyways”, you said but still got up and dressed up.
When you were finished he held one hand out to you: “One last dance mylady?”
Your eyes widened in disbelieve: “You want to dance? You hate dancing.”
Dean ran a hand through his hair: “I do, but I know you like it, and I want to see you happy for the rest of the night.
So you took his hand and he started swinging you around to an imaginary melody.

We´ll dance under the burning sky

Watch it die

No sorrow

Now sorrow

The fire that was already burning down in the city lit the field up in an odd way, making you feel like you were in the spotlight on a stage when you closed your eyes.

Together as the fires rage

Your fingers dug deep into the fabric of Dean´s jacket, holding on to him so tight, afraid that if you would ever let go, it would be forever.

And erase Tomorrow


After a few minutes that felt like an eternity, he stopped, holding each other.

You refused to open your eyes, still enjoying the moment, the last happy moment you would ever have.

And when it´s all said and done

We will have love

“(Y/N), look at the city!”, Dean suddenly said and you shook your head that was still resting on his chest: “I don´t want to see it. I just want to be here, with you.”

Until the very end of time

He suddenly turned you around, making you stare at the city: “Look at it, the fire´s gone, the sky is clear again.”
You couldn´t believe your eyes: “But, how is that possible, the spell didn´t work.”
Dean stared at you, holding your hand so tight it almost hurt: “Seems as it did in the end, look at the ground.”
You took a look around, at the pentagram that was burned into the ground, the center being the place you and Dean had slept with each other only minutes ago.
You suddenly remembered something from the men of letters book that the spell came from: “And the end shall be stopped when something pure is given back to the earth”, you quoted and Dean frowned: “The last ingredient, something pure, Angel blood, we poured it on the ground just as the book said.”
You still couldn´t believe it: “Don´t you get it? Something pure wasn´t Angel blood. It was love. When we loved each other like that, so pure and without any conditions, it finished the spell.”
He just stared at you and suddenly he lifted you up, twirling you around making you laugh.
When he put you back down on the ground, he kissed the top of your head: “I love you (Y/N) and now you´ll always know that I love you so much it can save the world.”


Gif source:  Here

Imagine your brother, Danny, teasing you about your crush on Jackson.

——— Request for anon ———

“Shut up,” you groan, burying your face into your pillow as your brother laughs from the doorway of your room.

“What? I didn’t say anything besides ‘Jackson is coming over tonight to study. You’ll probably want to put on something nice.’” Danny chuckles as you let out another whimper of embarrassment. What could be worse than your brother, so easily, figuring out about your huge crush on his friend?

“Shut up,” you whine again, but it is even more muffled by the pillow than the last one was.

“Okay, okay,” he smirks, walking over to your bed to poke you in the side, making you glare up at him, “But if it’s supposed to be a secret, then you’ll probably want to work on your poker face before he gets here.”

“Danny?” you smile sweetly, getting a smile in return.



anonymous asked:

17, 29, 34, 68, and 69 !! ( ˘ ³˘)❤

17: What were you doing at 12:30 this afternoon?
I was sleeping!!! 😂

29: What is the last thing you said out lot?
I honestly really don’t remember but I think it might’ve been “Okay”???

34: Will you talk to the person you like tonight?
Yeah, but I think he’s still nappin rn 😴

68: Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone?
I guess it depends? But it’s always really nice to sleep with someone else, especially when they’re someone you really like. 😌

69: Will next Friday be a good one?
Probably so- I’m hoping! :’) Fist Fight comes out on Friday so I might see it with my mom when she gets off of work because we are both Charlie Day trash LOL

Thank you! :’) 💕✨