Cold and Broken Hallelujah

Someone mentioned in the holtzbert tag they wanted a fic around Kates’s cold opening on SNL. Honestly, this has been buzzing around my head since last Tuesday. I needed the catharsis of writing this. Please forgive any errors, I just wrote this to write.

Erin knew where to find her. There were only five places in New York where Holtzmann felt the most comfortable during moments of crisis or when the noise in her head became too loud, and there was only one place where the doors were never locked— regardless of the time of night—aside from her home at the firehouse.

Turning up her collar against a gust of cold December wind, the physicist tucked into herself and continued her hurried pace down the sidewalk. Thankfully, the Recreation Center wasn’t more than a block away from the bar they had been drinking at, a brick and steel building nestled among fellow brick and steel builds. When she finally made it up the steps and through the doors—bracing against a particularly cutting burst of wind—Erin’s relief is palpable. Warmth closes in around her, and she stamps down a shiver, rubbing her hands together to generate heat and circulation back into her digits. The cold never agreed with her.  

Dark though the building was, lingering security lights illuminated her path into the corridors. It was strange seeing this place devoid of life and activity. Usually when Holtzmann was here the halls were swarmed with children of all ages, most of which were eager to spend time with the resident celebrity.

 Erin didn’t have to search long for her partner. Standing at the Center’s information booth her listening ears pick up the faint echo of music. A wary smile tugs at her lips. Few knew Holtzmann was musically inclined. Even fewer knew she was quite good at playing multiple instruments. A quick glance down the hall confirmed Erin’s suspicion. A single door stands open, light from the room beyond pouring into the semi-dark hall.

“Figured you’d be here,” she says to herself, shouldering her purse and striking out for the room. The closer she nears, however, the clearer the notes become, but something else catches her ear, slowing her purposeful strides.


Keep reading


I put “lara croft cosplay” as a Google Image search recently cuz I was horny, lol. One of the pics was of a girl doing a kick with her leg, & you could see part of her coochie lip, haha. Although, my favorite was of this one asian chick. Her facial features didn’t really suit Lara Croft, but she was like smokin’ hot, so it totally made up for it! 😮😍
Ft @scottamcdonald Scott McPeepee & @shaunybob1989 !
Thanks to @kumafilms for filming the end clip! (at UNLV Student Recreation and Wellness Center)

Made with Instagram
Gone in a Flash Pt 2

Warnings: Blood, violence, torture

Imagine you work with the Justice League and the Flash, and one day are taken captive for it. They all think you die- including Barry. Then one day- you show up on Barry’s front door - but you’re not the same person as before…

Pt 1:

Tell me if I should write part 3! Feedback is always appreciated!


That’s what you were.

You knew you were as soon as you saw Flash fall for your holographic double. You didn’t blame him- but it kinda stunk that just for a moment you felt like you actually had a chance.

And then the building exploded.

You were being held on the top floor of the closed Metropolis Recreation center- or in better terms, the attic where they kept all the equipment. They had moved you there right after the filming. Explosives had been planted in almost every square inch of the place. And you were staring right at one when they went off.

After all the pain you had been through in the last two and a half days, the quick death the explosion bestowed upon you was a welcome relief. The explosion broke the floor beneath you, and the force of the charge snapped your neck and ripped open your chest, exposing your heart and ribs. You crashed down through the building along with the rubble. You fell about three stories until you and your chair landed in the first floor pool, already littered with ash and debris.

The thing is- you should have stayed at the bottom of the pools, sinking deeper as the building fell apart around you. You should have stayed dead- like a normal person.

But fate had other plans for you.

The Joker had been right about whatever he had injected into you. To this day, no one knows what the complete recipe of the syringe was. So no one knew exactly why you came back. But the gist of the theory revolved around electricity.

Or in your case- an electrical wire.

One of the wires in the ceiling had ripped away from it’s place in the ceiling- and then landed in the water. The electrical currents flew through the water and straight into your heart. The same heart that was coursing with the chemicals that you had been injected with.

Somehow, the lightning shock to the heart was the last piece of the puzzle.

All along your broken body your veins lit up with bright white light. And then as the water hummed with unknown charges-

your heart began to beat.

Which would have been a good thing- if Lex Luthor hadn’t been planning on you surviving.


How long had you been held in this prison?



A couple millenniums?

For you there was no way to tell. You were so drugged up that the passing of time had slowed to a deadly crawl, wishing for your pain riddled limbo to fade to black. Most times you weren’t even sure you were seeing what was in front of you.

Sometimes you were asleep- but you could feel all the things they were doing to you.


Another thing- you had know idea who ‘they’ were. Everything was a hazy mess and sometimes you couldn’t even tell if there were people around you. If there were, they just registered to you as formless blobs of energy and sound, poking, prodding, and testing your limits.

But today was different.

Either some of the drugs they had been using on you was failing, or you had just become immune to the treatment; But you were beginning to become aware.

First, your sense of touch registered.

You were being dragged along the floor. At that moment, you couldn’t remember why they wouldn’t just carry you to your cell, but if you had been able to remember-it would have been because if you got anywhere near someone’s face or body you would try to rip them apart.

Regardless if you could feel anything.

In fact- you couldn’t.

It was like your heart had been ripped out- you weren’t even sure of what had happened before you got there.

You had friends right?

You slowly began to feel your twisted legs upon the gritty floor as your eyesight returned. Your head was hanging low, covered by your hair that had quickly become overgrown and was masking your eyes of the rest of your surroundings. But if your hands had been free and not locked together, you don’t think you would have even bothered to move the strands covering your face. Slowly, you realized that you were more alert than you had been in- well you couldn’t exactly remember.

But it didn’t matter.

If you had any chance of getting out- it was now.

You looked behind you, tipping your head back to see the formless gray blob that was your guard. They dragged you into a room, and you played like you were still drugged up. After they had secured you too the wall, the guard checked something on his wrist- presumably a watch.

“Nah, looks like you won’t need any of your medicine for a couple hours. I can just have the next shift be in charge of that. Besides, you look pretty down for the count. You don’t even know what I’m saying do you? Pity.” The guard stood up and left.

Your eyes opened and glowed white.

You were getting out of here.

As adrenaline rushed through your system, you yanked on the metal securing your wrists. The restraints ripped out of the wall, debris crashing to the floor. You stood up and ripped the cuffs apart, but you kept them on your wrists. It was good enough for now. You struggled to your feet, pure excitement and terror propelling you through the intense pain of standing on your broken legs. Your eyes locked on the door.

In the hallway, your cell door slammed into the opposing wall, sending dust flying and noise thundering down the corridor. You came sprinting after, slightly limping as you spun around and around.

It was just a dim hallway, with one small barred window at the end, and a dark, never-ending existence on the left. You breathed heavily. You could do this.

You could do this.

You were not staying here.

Dead or alive- you wanted out.


Your head snapped up, eyes landing on a small light in the corner that lit up red.


Of course there were alarms.

Your chest began to rapidly rise and fall- you were hyperventilating.

They were all coming. Whoever they were- they were coming for you.

And you were not letting them take you.

Never again.

You screamed in frustration and grabbed the door you had broken off it’s hinges. You turned to meet the horde of faceless guards coming down the corridor and yelled, throwing the door as energy rippled off your body.

It took out the front row of the guards- along with eight others. But what you hadn’t been counting on was their firepower.

The door clattered to a smoking stop, and revealed the row of guards behind as it slammed flat to the floor.

What did the closest guard have in his possession?

A rocket launcher.


Your eyes widened as the guard fired, ignoring the yells of his fellow soldiers. The guard had set off an explosion in a confined space. Good against your enemy…

But also devastating for anyone in said space.

The hallway exploded

Infact, the back of the hallway ripped open, and you were sent flying out of it.

You had a sense of deja-vu, like you had definitely been through this before. Lungs filled with smoke as your silhouette was framed with fire, you had the sure feeling this would be it for you.

Sadly, fate was not that kind.

You slammed down hard on snowy dirt and tumbled through sticks and freezing ice. You rolled down the steep hill until you hit a large tree, your back bending unnaturally against its bark.

So this was how being a pretzel felt.

You gasped, the air having left your body once you had hit the tree. Trying to regain your air, you rolled onto your stomach and pressed your face into the dirt, which was probably the worst way to get oxygen back into your lungs.

Soon, air flow returned to your body. You wheezed, rubbing your face further into the biting cold.

The drugs keeping away the pain were wearing off- and you were feeling it. The ice made your face of mush feel numb.

It was a welcome sensation.

You looked up, seeing where you had been being held.

A mountain.


Well, it probably was classy until it had gotten a hold blown into it’s side. You shook, realizing that you had escaped.

You were free.

You had gotten out.

But your moment of happiness was short lived.

Where were you going to go?


It was late at night, and Barry heard a thump on his front door. Usually he was asleep on his days off- but he had enough of his regular routine. It felt off. And he knew why it was off- even though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone. It had been a solid six months.

He should’ve been over it by now- except he wasn’t. Barry was far from being over his failure to help you.

To save you.

So when he heard pounding on his door at two o'clock in the morning, the only thing he was suspecting was Wally or Joe. 

But not you.

He definitely did not expect you.

You were dead.

At least, that’s what he had thought- until you showed up on his porch,  leaning against the door. When Barry opened his door you fell over, immediately collapsing against his legs. Barry jolted, realizing two things. 

One: a girl just passed out on my doorstep.

And more importantly: the girl was you. Barry broke out of his initial shock and dropped to his knees. 

“(L/n)! (L/n!) Wake up!” Barry lifted you onto his lap.

You were out cold.

But- it didn’t make sense. Sure, he had prayed for things like this to happen- but you had died. Poof- blown up. They hadn’t even found any traces of you in the rubble. He would know- he was the one who checked. But you were here, in his arms. Barry repeated your name.

No response.

It didn’t matter- you were here- in the flesh. So everything to him at this moment was going to be alright.

It was a short-lived moment.

Barry cradled your head in his hands. He went to smooth your (h/c) hair out of your face and then winced, drawing his hand back. There was white energy radiating off your body. Barry wondered why he hadn’t seen it before, it was flowing through your hair and over your skin. Touching it made his hair stand on end. He shook his head- no matter what condition you were in, he needed to get you medical attention. 

And the best place he knew that could work with dead people was STAR labs.

Peachy Keen
“Oh, sugarbeets, ain’t today just the most beautiful, perfect day you ever did see? I mean, sure, another giant monster is rampaging through town, but golly, just look at that sunrise!”
Parents: Big Macintosh, Cheerilee
Species: Earth Pony/Female
Special talent: Singing, positivity
Occupation: Choir Teacher, Farmer
Nickname(s): Peachy, Miss Keen

Everything about Peachy Keen is big, from her size, to her relentlessly perky personality, to her voice. Peachy is a fantastic singer, and although she normally sings at a reasonable range and volume, she sometimes gets a liiiitle too enthusiastic and tends to blow ponies away (sometimes literally) with the sheer power of her voice, hitting high notes that can shatter glass and belting at a volume that makes the Royal Canterlot Voice seem like a mouse’s sqeak, in comparison. For this reason, Peachy is a choir teacher at Ponyville’s recreation center, and current director of Ponyville’s local acapella group The Ponytones.

Despite her grace with music, Peachy is a total klutz in every other regard. Like her father, Peachy is absurdly strong and must take special care not to accidentally tear doors off their hinges, or uproot trees during apple bucking season. However she is always gentle as a lamb around animals and foals, especially her little cousin Truffles, whom she adores.

Peachy’s relentless chipper attitude and love of farming put her at odds with her younger cousin Magnolia May, who finds dear Peachy, well….pretty annoying. And clumsy. And loud. And intrusive. And too prone to tracking mud into the house, or calling Magnolia by her dreaded “Maggie” nickname. Despite this, Magnolia is all too eager to drop her classy facade and throw down with anypony who makes Peachy cry (not that hard a feat, Peachy’s quite sensitive underneath that smile).

-Peachy is not only the largest pony in the Pandoraverse cast (yes, including stallions), she is also the strongest, by a landslide. Cupcake is quite envious of Peachy’s sheer, natural musclepower and the fact that Peachy doesn’t seem to want to do anything with it outside of farming

-Peachy is somewhat afraid of the dark and sometimes sneaks to Truffles’ room on particularly creaky, spooky nights on the farm. Er, to make sure Truffles is safe, of course. Truffles gives her soothing pats on the head and lets her borrow her old Smarty Pants doll to snuggle for comfort

-Peachy is very self-conscious about her size, but hides this insecurity behind a smile

“Of course, when any of us think of the World Trade Center, we think of the tragedy immediately,” he says. “That will always be where our minds go first. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. It’s important to remember that tragedy. But with any tragedy, it’s also remembering the good times, the beautiful moments, the warm feelings you have toward whatever it is that you’ve lost.”

“I’ve experienced one particular tragedy in my life — my brother died,” he adds. “And it’s important not to think just about how he died. It’s important to also remember his life and all the things that I love about him. And I think this movie does that sort of remembering too. I hope so, anyway.”

Joseph Gordon-Levitt on recreating the World Trade Center for The Walk  [x]

Vigil For Tamir Rice

Members of the family of a 12-year-old black boy who was carrying a pellet gun when he was shot by a white police officer gathered Sunday for a vigil here to mark the anniversary of the fatal encounter.

People prayed and observed a moment of silence at the Cudell Recreation Center area where the boy, Tamir Rice, was shot. Twelve doves, one for each year of his life, were released, organizers said.

The vigil was among several events in Cleveland and in other cities marking the shooting, which happened on Nov. 22, 2014. Tamir died the next day. About 60 people, including his mother and sister, also took part in a commemoration on Saturday at the recreation center.

A grand jury is hearing testimony to determine whether criminal charges should be filed against the rookie patrolman who shot Tamir, Timothy Loehmann, and Officer’s Loehmann’s training officer. The Cuyahoga County prosecutor, Timothy J. McGinty, has said he has not reached any conclusions about charges.

Mr. McGinty has drawn criticism for releasing reports from three outside experts who found that the shooting was justified.


Rest in peace, Tamir. My condolences to friends and family.

The thing that specially bothers me is that the year after the murder there are still some people who say that the shooting was justified. Loehmann killed Tamir in a 2 seconds! What is it? I couldn’t imagine that something like this could be possible, but it’s reality. A year after a killer remains not punished. We cannot forgive the officer - especially knowing that he’s trying to defend himself after a cruel deed. We must insist on justice because it’s a vital question!