Writing advice you're not going to like.

People sometimes send me Asks wanting writing advice.  I suck at it.  I don’t really know how I do the writing, or how one should do the writing, or what one should do to get better at the writing.  All I can ever think to say is “write a lot of stuff and you will get better at the writing.”  Which is true, but hardly a bolt from the sky.

Well, as it turns out, I do have one piece of Legit Writing Advice, and I am going to share it with you, right now.  If you were in any of my writing workshop groups at a con, you’ve heard this advice already.

Warning: you’re going to fucking hate it.  But if you do it, you will thank me.

If you have a piece of fiction you’re serious about, something you might want to actually shop around, or just something you really are into and want to make it as good as you can…do NOT edit it.

Repeat.  DO NOT EDIT.


As in, print out the whole fucking thing and re-enter it, every word (or use two screens).  Retype the whole thing.  Recreate it from the ground up using your first draft as a template.  Start with a blank page and re-enter every. single. word.

I hear you screaming.  OH MY GOD THAT’S INSANE.

Yes.  Yes, it is.

It is also the most powerful thing you will ever do for a piece of fiction that you are serious about.

Now, let’s get real.  I don’t do this for most things.  I don’t do it for my fanfiction.  But if it’s something original, something I might like to get to a professional level - I do it.  You absolutely COULD do it for fanfiction.  It’s just up to you and how much time you want to sink into a piece.

You can edit, sure.  But you WILL NOT get down to the level of change that needs to happen in a second draft.  You will let things slide.  Your eyes will miss things.  You will say “eh, good enough.”

The first time I did this, on someone else’s advice, I was dubious.  Within two pages, I was saying WHY HAVE I NOT BEEN DOING THIS ALL THE TIME.  I was amazed at how much change was happening.  By the time I got to the end, I had an entirely different novel than the one I’d started with.  When you’re already re-entering every single word, it’s easy to make deep changes.  You’ll reformat sentences, you’ll switch phrases around, you’ll massage your word choice.  You’ll discover whole paragraphs that don’t need to be there at all because they became redundant.  You’ll find dialogue exchanges that need reimagining.  Whole plot points will suddenly be different, whole story arcs will reveal their flaws and get re-drawn.

You cannot get down to the fundamental level of change that’s required just by editing an existing document.  You have to rebuild it if you really want your story to evolve.  You will be AMAZED at the difference it will make.

It will take time.  It will seem like a huge, Herculean task.  I’m not saying it’s easy.  It isn’t.  But it is absolutely revolutionary.

Try it.  I promise, you will see what I mean.

*PSA: Tipsy!Lori wrote this post.  In case you couldn’t tell.

If MCR Songs Were People

This probably already exists but I spent two hours doing this instead of sleeping. Tell me which song you’re most like.

Welcome to the Black Parade: has a flair for the dramatic, doesn’t know how to do a smoky eye, was in the marching band in high school, daddy issues.

Sleep: has insomnia, PTSD, nightmares, is self deprecating, just wants to go the fuck to sleep

Destroya: probably gay, moans like a bitch during sex, pretty fucking hardcore, shit immune system though, lives for anarchy

House of Wolves:
will burn in hell (or believes they will), is a bad mother fucker, has a sister who should be scared, pyromaniac, “Catholic”

Vampire Money: all over the place, drinks a lot but parties like a beast, has a Bowie obsession, likes driving fast and loud music

Na Na Na: really artistic, pansexual, likes to scream lyrics, rebel at heart, probably still wears bandanas, sunglasses and boots all day every  day, fuck the government

Cancer: is dying, will die, all of your friends will die, actually doesn’t have any friends, really depressed, in pain, martyr

S.I.N.G: activist, owns jeggins, would join an underground gang if they had the balls, likes neon things for some unknown reason

Early Sunsets Over Monroeville: loves zombies, probably owns a Hawaiian   shirt, really quiet and doesn’t talk much, hangs out in shopping centres/malls but never buys anything

Demolition Lovers: is probably part of an underground gang, has to go away for “work” a lot, has a shotgun in the trunk of their car, teal,  unrequited love

Helena: recent death in the family, super fucking dramatic, lots of makeup, always wears black (maybe some red), nail polish is always chipped, imagines/fantasises things that will never happen all the time

super punk, goes to concerts all the time, will break shit just for fun, has authority issues, probably friends with a lot of delinquents, is a delinquent, doesn’t read books, drinks a lot

Famous Last Words:
is constantly having an existential crisis, really   committed when it comes to relationships, cowboy boots, goes outside at midnight for no reason

I Don’t Love You: always heartbroken, never cuts hair, plays guitar,  goes on road trips when things get difficult, super emotional, cries a lot

I’m Not Okay:
is still in high school, I don’t care if they’re 39  they’re still in high school, hates high school, does stupid shit all  the time because fuck it, high school, is not okay, is friends with  weird people, high school

Mama: PTSD, self deprecating, mama’s boy/girl/person, has a sick sense of humour, laughs manically for no reason, cutthroat

You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison: probably gay, went to prison, had a fuck tonne of bitches (I’m kidding, they were actually the  bitch to a fuck tonne of other people), can’t adjust, has issues with  family

Headfirst for Halos: epic, is not okay, always trying to think  positively but is screaming inside, thinks about doing stupid shit all  the time (i.e. Putting a gun to their head)

Vampires Will Never Hurt You: screams a lot, has a vampire fettish, hates Twilight with a passion, has never gone outside, wouldn’t mind dying if I was a wooden stake to the heart, sucks dick

The Ghost of You:
fought in WWII, had a pretty girlfriend, wears round glasses with gold rims, is tall and lanky, has a brother, gets shot in  the chest, screams, dies

The Light Behind Your Eyes: is finding ways to deal with severe depression, cries a bit but quietly, reads a lot of books, all their friends are dead, trying to stay strong despite the fact they’re dying inside, sings like an angel

Give ‘em Hell Kid: lives life fast, probably has killed someone, wears red and like khaki green, shouts a lot, belongs in a 2005 MTV short, lives life on the edge, fatalistic

To The End: has read Dante’s Inferno, is a mafioso, fatalistic, has  probably organised the death of many people, likes to drink cyanide, sleeps a lot, owns diamond jewellery, likes cake

The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You: has no faith in life, likes western movies, will yell at you, has  applied for a license to kill, likes to sleep with people (like nap I  mean)

Thank You For The Venom: likes snakes, has probably almost OD’d, hates  the doctors, is stubborn, death obsessed, has probably stabbed someone, wears striped long sleeve t-shirts, hates running, hopes to be shot one day

Hang 'Em High: is death obsessed, clinically insane, screams a lot,  always makes a lot of aesthetic statements about things with black and  white connotations, Catholic, fuck off

It’s Not a Fashion Statement It’s a Fucking Death Wish: swears in front  of their parents, wears their mum’s clothes, is obsessed with killing  enemies, is always predicting their death to be soon.

Cemetery Drive: all too real, has a girlfriend, likes to hang out in  cemeteries, girlfriend has issues and ended her life, now has issues  because of it, drinks a lot, really fucking depressed

I Never Told You What I Do For A Living: is 100% a serial killer, sociopath, also has OCD, scary as shit

The End: is dying, but isn’t too sad, wishes to attend their own funeral  as a ghost, has no self confidence, can’t be fucking bothered growing  up, doesn’t give a shit, is very chill, wears yellow accessories

Dead!: Is dead, is having a party about being dead, wondering if all the  assholes in their life are in hell, no one actually likes them, laughs  at inappropriate moments, is a great dancer

This Is How I Disappear: really fucking dramatic, will be upset and   disappear if you break up with them, dramatic, is a part time satanist, will make a voodoo doll of you if you fuck with them, candles

The Sharpest Lives: goes out late at night, never showers, drinks   heavily, would probably go cannibal if it was legal, always in pain,   lives life on the fucking edge, will burn large objects, has sinus   issues

Disenchanted: is constantly torn, never actually cries, writes books,  likes to take chances, likes birds, got in trouble with the police for  some stupid but really fun shit, friends need to get their shit together  and learn a lesson

Bulletproof Heart: Gravity doesn’t mean to much to them, has self  confidence but not enough to stop running away, runs away a lot, wears  really funky colourful clothing, is very kind but misunderstood

Planetary GO!: goes to a lot of cool night clubs, knows how to fucking  party, is still very punk on the inside, sweats a lot (bc they dance a  lot), jumps up and down for no fucking reason

The Only Hope For Me Is You: is obsessed with being remembered, only has  one friend, is kinda depressed and really needs someone to hold onto,  but is also really questioning life and society, wants to run away to a  more aesthetic place

Party Poison: speaks fluent Japanese (cough I mean Weeaboo), watches a  lot of anime, loves Kpop and Jpop fashion, will party but goes to the  weirdest parties, dyes their hair, fuck the bullshit meaning of life  they do what they want

Save Yourself I’ll Hold Them Back: is a badass, known for being a  badass, stole your mum’s car and took you on the best date ever, wears a  lot of leather, ready for a fight, probably gets into a lot of fights  anyway, probably once looked like Danny from Greece

SCARECROW: is probably on LSD, smokes a lot of weed, is really chill,  too fucking chill, wears psychedelic t-shirts, is actually a  philosophical genius, reads a lot of poetry

Summertime: they might go outside if it’s summer, listens to music with  headphones on full blast, goes on the train a lot, likes to walk around  listening to music and pretends they’re making the aesthetic parts of  the music video they’re listening to, soft kitty

The Kids From Yesterday: is constantly nostalgic, loves Star Wars and  Queen, always having flashbacks, wears yellow and read things, feels  misunderstood, trying to figure out the meaning of life

Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For The Two Of Us: likes Fall Out  Boy when they had long song titles, has issues, a lot of issues, ugly  screams a lot, doesn’t care, wears dark denim jackets, hates this girl  who fucked their brother

Drowning Lessons: has a lot of anxiety, constantly worried, always  running away from problems and situations, can’t swim, always has  regrets, has pink things

Our Lady Of Sorrows: was in a gang once, loves to get into switchblade fights, is really scary and bloodthirsty, believes in pagan gods, but   will protect you, blood blood blood.

Skylines and Turnstiles: saw 9/11 happen, life was changed because of  it, decided that they wanted to be in a band, made a band with brother  and his fren, got some dreadlocked weed smoking fanboy to join, the  drummer is an asshole x3, breaks up after 12 years, deems it to be a  good idea, scared of butane

This Is The Best Day Ever: this is the worst day ever, has no rhythm, is  really confused with what is going in, went to hospital a lot and hated  it, screams a bit, is a bit scared of needles, studded belts, suck dick

Cubicles: will die alone (or at least they think), hates their job, the  only thing that entertains them at work is people gossiping at the water  cooler, is actually having a severe existential crisis

Boy Division: is friends with people who would have a fucking rocking  funeral, stalks school girls, looks dead but only dresses that way,  likes to sing about California, paranoid all the time

Tomorrow’s Money: fell in love with a vampire, slightly aggressive, can  surf, stopped screaming three years ago, wants to be a doctor, hates   people who are thought of as heroes, ruined converses

AMBULANCE: screams in an aesthetically pleasing way, thinks you know  nothing, super weird, goes out after dark, likes to drive big cars,  wouldn’t mind driving, is super reliable even when they let you down

Gun.: was probably conscripted into the military, actually hates   violence and guns, wants to stay at home all the time, likes to call the  shots, owns an old uniform that they’ll never throw out

The World Is Ugly: likes Blade Runner and fairy lights, thinks weird  people are very beautiful, insanely observant of other people’s  behaviours, wears knee high socks and converses, hates the world because  it’s terrible

Kiss The Ring: belongs in an alternate universe where it’s still the  medieval time but rock bands exist, is probably a contract killer, likes  to overthrow the king every five years, has really fucked up logic  about why it’s okay to kill a lot of people, cutthroat

Make Rooom!!!!: probably goes to discos, does not panic at them,  actually has some self confidence but always gets into stupid situations  and flails, wears the tightest pants in the world, wears earrings with  crosses on them

Surrender the Night: constantly lonely, likes to drive long distances to  think, lost a loved one, has cool patches on their jacket, has been to  hospital twice, likes to listen to you, always keeps secrets unless you  fuck with them

Burn Bright
: likes going to the city just to look at all the lights,   walks around and thinks that certain things would look nice on Tumblr,   unstable, can be aggressive, very in tune with their surroundings, kind of a Buddhist

Common People: your average person, always struggling financially, wears  a lot of blue, always falls in love with shallow rich girls for no  reason, really just wants to live however the fuck they want

Every Snowflake Is Different: loves children’s TV shows, goes to the  snow every year, loves winter and hot chocolate, will cry if you take  their toys away, will be a good parent, too busy having fun to give a  fuck

Desolation Row: got beat up at school, is now in a cutthroat gang, spits  a lot, wears a lot of eyeliner, likes Grease but is also super punk  rock, hates wearing underwear, likes to break shit all the time

Desert Song: is recovering from a drug addiction, is still in a really  dark place, trying to stay strong, is questioning the meaning of life,  probably had teal roots at some stage

Black Dragon Fighting Society: drinks juice when they’re killing because  it’s fucking delicious, really likes dragons, reads too much, hates  society, would run away but that would mean no books and no juice so no  fucking way, likes hot pink and black

Zero Percent: hates everyone, would kill everyone, really hates people,  does whatever the fuck they want, will kill everybody, will put zero   effort into school or work, does their own thing.

Mastas of Ravenkroft: worried about growing old, has no self confidence,  will only have sex if the lights are turned off, feels very old at a  very young age because of shitty bones, also has no fucking chill

fuck society, is super digital, but also really retro,   always tells people to kiss their ass, lives in a futuristic society,   likes robots, has a licking fettish, likes to destroy shit, will   probably spit randomly

We Don’t Need Another Song About California: Summertime’s long lost  twin, really doesn’t give a shit about California, but likes the sun,  probably lives in Florida, hates magazines, probably has a fake name,  thinks that nothing matters

All The Angels: is dying, has minutes left, girlfriend has issues   because she’s a little risky, everything has gone wrong, everyone is   upset, probably died three years ago, never went to heaven, likes pretty  flowers and dead things

a complete and utter 1800s Romantic, has probably ready  Frankenstein, wants to go on epic journeys, never showers, likes spices,  old fashioned, would probably get into the steampunk fashion thing

Blood: is forever in the 1920s, was a war hero but hates themself,  laughs manically sometimes, has a thing for blood but hates vampires,  90% human wreckage, 23% awful fuck, 8% bad at math, 14% clueless

It’s like all the sudden you’re in a body that’s not yours, a place you can’t recognize. Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, you are in this place and nothing seems real or right. You want to run, but your legs aren’t yours and you can’t move. You want to scream for help, but your are struggling to breath. Lights seem blinding, sounds pierce through you like daggers. Soon you are lost in a dark room trying to find your way out… but your thoughts turn into living creatures crawling and screaming under your skin. They scream you are going insane, you are going to lose control. They tell you they are in control and you’ll hurt yourself or someone else. You can’t trust your thoughts, you can’t trust yourself so you stay in the darkness so everyone is safe, soon they stop crawling and screaming, but you can’t leave the room. Your body is weak from fighting, your mind is no longer yours.

Stages of Watching an Ego Video






Stage 6- Sadness: *intense sobbing* 


Stage 8 BONUS (if you get that far)- Acceptance: I am void of emotion nothing has meaning anymore

How they react...

…To a variety of goodbyes.

♡ ♡ \ Request from anonymous / ♡ ♡

Could you do a preference (males only if that’s okay) when they’re trying to say goodbye before leaving but end up giving in and taking you with them because theyd miss you too much? Tysm!


I have changed this request slightly to add more variety

whilst still staying along the subject of goodbyes.

Keep reading

an actual thing that happened at fall out boy last night

pete: *leaves balloon down beside patrick*

patrick: thanks pete 

patrick: *instant look of regret and self-loathing*

crowd: *literal insane screaming*

pete: ….. someone should make that a meme

I think my favorite part about Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency is that all of the main characters are just as confused as the audience, and thus spend a lot of time scream asking the insane numbers of questions they have.

But you know who knows what’s up? The Rowdy 3. They know what they’re gonna do.

anonymous asked:

There is already that great Asylum AU you wrote for, how about we add Nogla and Lui to the mix?!

Of course! Here you go, the long awaited part 2 that’s kinda long. I hope you enjoy it!


The three doctors met up once again that their usual spot. “So, Evan, how was your one day off?” Tyler asked.

“Pretty good, actually. I didn’t have to deal with your asses,” Evan chuckled. Bryce put his hand to his heart.

“Rude.” They all started laughing after that.

“Anyways, do you know how Delirious was?”

“I heard that he didn’t cooperate with your replacement really well. I don’t think he tried to hurt him, but he didn’t tell him anything,” Bryce said, pulling out a piece of gum and starting to chew on it.

“Seriously?” Bryce nodded, causing Evan to sigh.

“It’s a good thing that I’m back then.”

“Um, excuse me? Am I at the right place?” A thick foreign accent from behind them spoke. They all turned around to see a man with messy Brian hair and glasses standing over them. Well, standing over everyone except Tyler.

Bryce’s face lit up suddenly and he put out his hand. “Oh, you must me the new guy, Daithi de Nogla, right? I’m Bryce.” Daithi smiled and shook his hand.

“Thank god I found d the right place, I got lost like, three times already.”

“It always happens on everyone’s first day,” Evan spoke up. “I’m Evan, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“Sup bitch, I’m Tyler.” Bryce lightly smacked Tyler’s arm.

“Tyler! Don’t be rude!”

“I’m not being rude!”

“He’s really not; that’s just how he greets the newbies. He greeted you like that.”


Nogla had started to laugh, which caused them to stop arguing. “Nah man, it’s okay. It’s nice to meet you all. But uh, can we go in, or…?”

“Oh! Yeah, you can go in. We just wait out here for a bit before we go in. Good luck!” Nogla nodded before smiling and waving at them before going in.

“Well he seems nice,” Evan chirped.

“Yeah. Hopefully he doesn’t get one of the bad ones,” Tyler sighed. They all nodded in agreement before going inside.


Tyler walked into his patients room unwillingly. He honestly was just not in the mood that day. “Good morning Mini. How’d you sleep?”

When he didn’t get a response, Tyler looked around the room. Mini was sitting in the corner, facing the wall. “Mini?”

“Mini isn’t here today. Come back tomorrow, maybe he’ll answer.”

Great. Now Tyler had to deal with Pablo.

“Oh, Pablo, good to see you again. How’ve you been?” ‘Pablo’ turned around with a smirk on his face as he stretched and yawned.

“Tired. Mini wouldn’t let me out last time, y'know. Said it was because of you. Mind telling me what that’s all about?”

“I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again: You’re corrupting his head. He’s already more like you than he was, and we can’t do anything about it. Why don’t you just bring Mini back so we can talk.”

“Hmm, let me think… No. I’ve been gone for way to long. Won’t you let me be out, just for a little bit?” Tyler’s jaw clenched. He hated being tested like this.

“Alright, alright, fine. But promise me this: you’ll start taking the medicine that you hate again.”

Pablo’s grin faded. “You wouldn’t do that,” he whispered.

“Oh I think I would. In fact, I’ll go do it right now-”

“No! No, no. I’ll bring Mini back. Just, don’t make me take that awful shit again.” Tyler crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow, waiting. Pablo sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I really hate you, you know that?”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Tyler watched as Pablo’s eyes fluttered shut, falling onto his side as well. Tyler knew that Mini wouldn’t be up for a while, so he just picked Mini up and put him on the bed before leaving.


Evan walked quicker than he normally did to his patients room. He quickly entered the door and shut it behind him.

“You seem hurried. Excited to get me out of here?” Delirious asked with hopefulness in his voice. Evan straightened himself up and sighed.

“I heard you didn’t cooperate with the replacement yesterday,” Evan said, his eyes flickering to the paper in his hands before going back to Delirious.

“And why would I?”

Evan sighed and started writing down on the clipboard.

“When you’re the only one I want~”

Evan froze and nearly choked on his own spit. He felt a blush creep up on his cheeks as he looked up. Delirious had a smirk plastered on his face.

“Shut up,” Evan mumbled, causing Delirious to laugh. Evan quickly finished his writing and left the room, not wanting to feel Delirious’ smirk any longer.


Bryce hummed as he waited for the files to be printed out. He already had checked up on Ohm, and to say the least, nothing had changed.

The last copy was almost done when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and he felt someone’s breath on the back of his neck.

“Hello, Brycey-poo~”

Bryce gasped in shock and dropped all of the papers in his hands. He glanced around frantically, only to see no one else in sight.

“O-Ohm, how d-did you-”

“It took a lot of skill, trust me.” Ohm laughed and pulled back before turning Bryce around and trapping him once more. “But I think it’s worth it~”

Bryce stared at Ohm, terror settling in more and more. “Don’t be scared, Brycey. It’s only me. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he lifted Bryce’s chin up with his finger. “You’re too pretty for me to want to do that.”

Bryce’s heart pounded in his chest as sweat rolled down his face. He swallowed and tried to look anywhere but Ohm’s eyes. It was extremely hard to for some reason, and he kept finding himself looking into those brown eyes that screamed insane.

Ohm was suddenly pulled back, and someone pulled Bryce to the side. Bryce was snapped back into reality as he looked over to see Evan holding onto his arm and calling security.

When he looked back to where Ohm was, he found Tyler holding him up against the wall. Bryce’s blue eyes met Ohm’s brown ones. Ohm grinned at him, seemingly not caring about the current situation. Security soon came and got Ohm, leaving the three doctors to themselves.


Daithi awkwardly stood in the break room, wondering where he was going to sit. He saw the top of Tyler’s head and decided to go sit with them, since they were the only people he knew.

When he got there, Bryce had his head in his arms while Evan patted his back. “Hey guys! What’s up with Bryce?” He asked, sitting down.

“Bryce’s patient, Ohm, somehow got out of his cell to go and ‘visit’ Bryce,” Tyler explained.

“I don’t even know how he did it! Or how he wasn’t caught!” Bryce groaned, finally lifting his head up from the table. Nogla’s eyes were wide.

“Seriously? Oh man, that’s gotta be terrifying.”

“Eh, not really. It happens all the time,” Tyler yawned, taking a bite out of his sandwich. Nogla’s eyes widened even more. Evan shot Tyler a glare before rolling his eyes.

“No, it doesn’t Tyler, stop scaring the newbie. It happens like, once every couple of months. This is just the first time it’s happened to Bryce. Though, he has only been here for 2 years now.” Nogla relaxed after that.

“So how’d your first day go?” Bryce asked.

“Oh, uh, I have a patient named Lui Calibre. He’s got multiple personalities- well, personality, I should say.”

Tyler’s eyes lit up a bit when he said that. “Your patient had multiple personalities too?” Nogla nodded.

“Yeah, the other personality is a five-year-old which I’ve decided to name Squeaker.”

“Why squeaker?” Evan asked, chuckling a bit at the name.

“Cause that’s what he sounds like! Plus, I had accidentally called him that, and he seemed to like it, so I stuck with it.”

“Man, you’re lucky. Mine’s got the personality of a creepy Mexican guy named Pablo. You should be grateful you got a good one,” Tyer said.

“I mean, Lui is a bit of a smart mouth, but squeaker seems to like me a lot, so I guess you’re right. I’m still not sure why it’s a five year old, but, y'know.”

“Well, you see here, they can’t choose their other personality. It was one that started to form into their head. With most personalities, it’s something that the person started to do as a way to protect themselves, and it eventually became it’s own thing. Lui probably pretended to be a five-year-old so whoever or whatever was hurting him would stop, and it must’ve worked. It’s like Mini’s case, who’s my patient. He was bullied, and thought up of Pablo to help him. When Pablo finally came out, however, that’s when the problem started. But don’t ask me why it was a creepy Mexican guy.”

Everyone stared at Tyler, surprised by the sudden lecture.

“Damn Tyler, you sure you’re not some sort of psychiatrist or something?” Even joked. Tyler rolled his eyes at the comment before stealing one of Evan’s fries.

“Hell no! Me listen to people complaining about their problems all day? I’d probably shoot myself before I got finished with the first person.”

They all laughed and finished their lunch before going back to their jobs.

Always Okay

Sorry, its not 30 days of Jensen and Dean, but it’s a little something I felt compelled to write. Hope you enjoy.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you spit out as he watched you carefully, his brow furrowed slightly.

You hadn’t been expecting his response.

“Yahtzee,” he said, making a proud little face and taking a swig from his beer.

You gawked at him, unable to believe that he was taking this so well.

You knitted your brow together and sigh heavily.

“And it’s yours, Winchester,” you huffed, still not fully accepting his aloofness. There certainly had to be a meltdown hanging just around the corner.

He finished off his beer and set it on the table, stepping toward you and pulling you off the bed and into his arms. You steadied yourself by placing your hands on both sides of his tie, his pecs twitching slightly at the contact.

“I’d certainly hope so, princess,” he said smiling down at you, his lips rapidly approaching yours. He kissed you fiercely, his large hand pressed into the small of your back, holding you firmly against him.

You pushed away, staring at him in disbelief.

“Wait,” you breathed. “How are you kind of even a little bit okay with this? How are you not screaming that this is insane?” You panicked, stepping away from him. “That we have no right to be doing this,” you rambled. “Bringing a kid into this life is selfish,” you added, running your hands through your hair. Apparently you were going to have a meltdown for both of you since Dean had clearly lost it.


Dean grabbed your elbow and pulled you back to him, silencing your rambling with his lips pressed firmly against yours. You melted into him.

“Y/N, we both let this happen. Call it carelessness. Call it a mistake. Call it reckless. I choose to call this perfect because I love you. Sure bringing a kid into this world is massively stupid living the way we do, but if it’s with you, I know it will be okay,” he shrugged, his arms wrapping around your waist and holding you against him.

“How are you so sure, Dean?” you breathed, the fear creeping into your voice.

“Cause with you everything is always okay. In fact, it’s perfect,” he smiled, kissing you sweetly.

“Okay,” you whispered against his plush lips as they moved in time against yours. He backed you against the bed and you toppled on top of it. He swiftly crawled over you, his hand immediately caressing your cheek.

“Okay,” he said as if that settled it.

He rolled his hips against yours, kissing you with passion. You knew Dean loved you. This was better than anything you could have hoped for.

Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Imagine being close with the Shelby family and Thomas cannot believe how perfect you are.

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I will not be doing this often as my blog is a Game Of Thrones one and that is how it will remain. However, I am obsessed with Peaky Blinders and will be posting 1 imagine for Thomas Shelby and very rarely may post an imagine for other shows. This means perhaps 1 every 15 imagines. I am only going to post it because it is already written but it shall not be a regular thing. If that makes any sense.

♡ ♡ ♡ PEAKY BLINDERS ♡ ♡ ♡

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Behind the Shifty Scenes: Admin is a giant Pokemon nerd

Some of you know that terrible bootlegs are the key to my heart, but terrible Pokemon bootlegs will get me to lay down and die for you.  It’s not just bootlegs in this house of fuckery though, there are Pokemon in every single room of this house.

Found at the thrift store, I’ve never managed to get it working.  If it’s anything like the bootleg Pikachu calculator I had, it just screams random songs at an insanely high volume.

My plushies were getting out of hand, so we got a hammock.  Please note 1998 Chinese bootleg Pika, almost like the real thing but sorta wonky.

The hammock overfloweth, so we got an Ikea rack.

Some of my non-bootlegs came direct from friends in/visiting Japan.

The easiest way to spot me when I’m out thrifting is my Pika bag and wallet.  They’re always with me.

It may seem like I’ve got some sort of Pikachu problem, but my favorite Pokemon are Jigglypuff and Combee and idk how this has happened.  There’s so much more Pikachu shit than anything else.  I am literally wearing Pikachu socks right now.

I spend my evenings raising and breeding shiny pokes.  Now you know the depths of my nerdery.  Real talk though, Pokemon has been with me since I was a teenager and all through my adult life.  It’s still great and I’ve never lost interest in playing the games and collecting the merch.  If you have some good Pokemon bootlegs, let me see ‘em!


The Rise of Wilford Warfstache Chapter One

In all of my years as a psychiatrist, I had never seen such a broken man. His head seemed to twist as he sat restless in the chair of my office. Through his rose colored glasses, he seemed to view the world around him as a falacy. Though he smiled, I sensed the pain growing inside of him as reality desperately scratched from within. Whatever had happened to him that night, it had truly shattered who he once was.
I’d read about him in the papers before. Despite the media uproar about the accidental shooting of a fellow hunter during a safari, the man seemed to have had a steel shield against the criticism. Of course, that man had been injured, not killed. The question of whether or not Warfstache had actually murdered Mark Fischbach is still yet to be uncovered. I agreed, though reluctantly, to work alongside the CPD while they investigated the murder. As far as I knew, nothing else has been uncovered. The manor was locked up tighter than a drum, no one allowed in or out.
In fact, as far as I was aware at that time, everyone involved had gone missing. By the time authorities finally arrived, there wasn’t a soul on the grounds except for Warfstache. The staff had disappeared. The other guests were missing. Detective Abraham “Abe” Lincoln P.I., who was a guest the night Fischbach was killed, also disappered. The CPD had branded him as another suspect in the case because of this and have been searching for him since the day that Warfstache was brought in. From what I knew, he was another friend of Fischbach’s, and not a direct employee of the Department.
The deeper facts of the case had been locked away from me for the moment. I informed the Chief of Police as soon as I made my initial diagnosis of Warfstache that I would need to know the ins and outs in order to better help him as my patient. If HE didn’t open up about what happened, perhaps they could at least shed some light on the subject. Until that time arrived, I was in the dark.
When he first arrived…oh, I’ll never forget the laughter. It had cut through the typical sounds of a psychiatric facility like a knife through warm butter. It rang and echoed about the sterile white halls toward my office and woke me up like a bugler at a military camp. I was used to the occasional bout of insane laughter, even the horrifying screams of the insane became background static after a while, but I will never forget that laugh. As the orderlies held on tight to either of the man’s arms, he simply hung his head, shaking it back and forth, letting out a deep, belly laugh. It was as if he was having the time of his life. “It was all a joke!” he’d said. “It was just a big, guffaw!”
I peered around the corner of my office door when I heard it and watched them slowly approach with him. His hair, a tangled, black, wet mass, danced about leaving drops of sweat on the floor below him as he walked. His arms strained in the straight jacket, making the orderlies on either side of him tighten their grip every now and then while still maintaining cold, straight faces. His feet seemed to tangle with one another as he walked, as if they had forgotten how to move forward. When they reached my office, the orderlies stopped and struggled to keep him still. He shook to and fro, breathless from his laughter.
When he finally looked up at me, through the jungle of black hair I got a first glimpse at the eyes of my new patient. They were dark, but sad to me. The chocolate brown rings of his irises seemed to tear as the trauma behind them banged against them. At the same time, I could see the hope in his eyes that all of this madness was exactly what he perceived it to be: a big, sick joke. His thick, black moustache turned up hand in hand with his seemingly permanent smile. His wide grin displayed two rows of straight, well groomed, brilliantly white teeth. That smile swelled and dissipated with each deep breath he took. You’d think the man had done a mile run to get here. Pained though it was, it was such a pleasant smile. It was the smile of a broken man who only wanted everything to sort out. It was almost…pitiful to look at.
“Hello, I am Doctor Miriam Antwood.” I greeted him as pleasantly as I could. This was standard for me, I tried my best to seem a friend to my patients. Makes them more comfortable rather than having a stuffy, pompous, authoritative presence when their minds are already fragile. I left THAT to my colleague, Yousef Hillmeyer.
At my introduction, Warfstache straightened up, stifling the spasms in his chest, and gave me a curt bow.
“Colonel William Warfstache. My friends call me ‘The Colonel’, you are most welcome to do the same.”
As he spoke, his voice had a distinct vibrato. It was clear he was attempting to be polite, while also pushing down the inevitable laughing fits. After he introduced himself, he tightened his lips, though the corners jerked upward every now and again as he snorted and snuffed with the giggles.
“It’s a pleasure to make your accquaintance, Colonel.”
Of course, I was well aware of who he was before they brought him to me. I always receive empty patient files waiting to be filled whenever I do an intake. The police determine whether or not the person in particular is a candidate for psychiatric care, and once they do, they process them at the station and send their paperwork to us to be proccessed here. It’s all very by the book, standard procedure and all that.
“Do you like jokes, my dear?” Warfstache boomed, leaning forward toward me with a wink. His voice cracked, his throat clearly dry from the constant intake of breath to fuel his manic laughing fits.
“Why, yes. I enjoy a good chuckle every now and again.” I replied, smiling back at him.
Warfstache threw his head back, letting out a hearty “HAW! HAW!” that hurt my ears. Then he slowly brought his chin back down, almost to his chest, and rose a brow at me. “Well, this one’s a DOOZY of a lark!”
“I’d like to hear all about it. Please.” At this last word, I turned and held a hand out toward the chair adjacent to mine, beckoning him and the orderlies in. I crossed the room to sit and kept a watchful eye on them as they sat him down before me. One of them, the burlier of the two, gave me a knowing look that I returned as he stood behind Warfstache. The other, I dismissed. He seemed harmless enough for the time being. I allowed Phillip, the orderly who stayed behind, to remove his straight jacket. As it came off, he didn’t seem to notice at all. Instead, he gave a few soft claps and shook his head, still chortling at this supposed “joke”.
“Now, Colonel,” I began, preparing my regular lecture that I had memorized down to the very last word for new intakes.
“I don’t want you to view me as your doctor, but rather a friend you can open up to. Though, I advise you to remember that there are boundaries to this. As a man of your…considerable stature, I trust you know what I mean by this?”
In reply, he merely smiled. He neither nodded nor shook his head, but simply analyzed me as I spoke. With a nervous cough, I continued on.
“Er..My main goal here is to help you. I understand that the events of the past few days have been taxing, so I hope that nothing I ask you here will feel straining or pressuring on you. If there is anything you do not wish to talk about, we can save it for a later date. Just remember, the walls of this office are sealed tight, everything that we speak of stays within them.”
Warfstache turned slightly, side eyeing the orderly behind him. He choked on a laugh for a moment before returning his gaze to me.
“Isn’t that a funny joke lad?” He said, his voice rising and declining in volume and tone as he spoke. “It’s all a joke you know!”
The orderly raised an eyebrow at me. I held up my hand to him and addressed the concern that I sensed he was attempting to express.
“You needn’t worry about him. Phillip is a fine employee at our facility and he knows the rules. He’s merely here to see that you’re…comfortable.”
Rather than indulge me with a simple token of understanding or even a nod, Warfstache instead clenched his mouth shut, turned away, and clamped his eyes closed as he, again, fell prey to a fit of chuckles. Each one sounding like someone slapping a hot water bottle while they stayed confined to his chest.
Regardless, I carried on.
“Now…about this grizzly business at Markiplier Manor…” I moved on with caution as I noticed his eyes open and snap toward me. “Tell me, what is the joke? I would like to know what you find so hilarious. I’m quite curious.”
He turned toward me, his eyes crinkling against his wide smile.
“It’s a good one.” he practically spit, the air of his gales bursting forth as he spoke.
“Please, tell me.” I urged, hoping to at least get this little bit of talk out of the way.
“OH, it was a rousing little game. Almost like those you see at All Hallow’s Eve parties as of late. Little mystery games, you see.” His arms flew about as he spoke, dancing in the air as he made flambouyant hand gestures to match his story.
“Typically, though, EVERYONE is in on it. But my old friend, Damien, he must’ve had the bright idea to throw a bit of fun at me. Oh, that Damien, he’s been such a fine friend all these many years. It’s a might childish, but boys will be boys, you know.”
As soon as the name 'Damien’ left his lips, his seemingly happy demeanor appeared to crack. I hadn’t a clue who Damien was at that moment, but whoever it was had obviously been close to him. Perhaps he was one of the guests who had disappeared?
His smile began to falter, just slightly, but enough for me to notice. Even his eyes seemed to droop sadly as he continued on. Through his continuous laughter, I could hear his voice grow more and more pained.
“Celine…Celine as well was in on the guffaw. They must have remembered that ghastly business with the safari…decided to use old Mark’s party as the stage for a twisted little go around. I will say, the boy knows how to play dead among other things. Everyone pointed at me. 'He did it!’ they all pinned it on me. Even that other chap, can’t remember his name, decided to play dead for it all. Did a great job, I must say. Though, that fall must have hurt at least a smidge. No matter, the boy stood and walked like it was nothing but a school yard scuff!”
“What boy are you referring to?” I asked. “Another guest?”
“Oh, pardon my manners. The District Attorney, yes, he was another guest. Never met him before that night. Must’ve staged the whole thing with Damien and Celine. He was a good sport, he was. Fake blood and all. Must have used the sauce from the Chef’s dinner. It was a hoot…I daresay it could still be going on. This must be a part of it, yes?”
“I’m afraid not, Colonel. Your being sent here is far from a joke.” I assured him, but he merely scoffed at me.
“Oh come now!” he mocked. “Slapping me in cuffs, throwing on the old white coat, and dragging me off in a white van to a psychiatric facility? HAW! Old Damien must still be up to his tricks.” Suddenly, mid rant, he turned to an empty portion of the room and continued to speak as though to a different person entirely. “Do you hear that? Not a joke. I daresay, perhaps these chaps aren’t privvy to the whole matter, eh?”
“May I ask who you’re speaking to?” I inquired, but my voice seemed to go ignored.
“Bully, bully indeed! This is quite the little ruse. H-here, look!” His eyes scanned my desk at these words, and before I could process what could have been going through his mind, Warfstache lifted my letter opener from my desk and swung it around to bury it between two of Phillip’s ribs. I cried out in shock, I did not expect such a rash action.
”I can’t kill anyone! See!”
As he held the letter opener against Phillip’s side, he continued to let out howls of laughter. He pulled the blade from the poor boy and thrust it in again and again, twice before my cries alerted two other orderlies from the hall.
“It’s all fake! Look at it, you’ll see! It’s all a show!” Warfstache cried as the two orderlies who came rushing in restrained him.
“We need a tranq!” I cried, rushing around my desk to see to Phillip, who now lay in a glistening pool of crimon as it seeped from his wounds.
“I’m fine…” he said, shakily. Holding his hands to his ribs. I removed my coat and pressed it down onto the wounds. I turned to see that both orderlies and Warfstache were now on the floor. His legs kicked forward and back as he became lost in a suddenly saddening fit. I could see the roof of his mouth as his mouth remained agape with his cries. What had moments ago been fits of hilarity suddenly became mournful, gut wrenching sobs.
“WHY?” he bellowed, his voice echoing throughout my office. “WHY DID YOU DO IT, LADS? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?”
Another orderly rushed in from the hall, a large syringe of tranquilizer in his hands. The two holding Warfstache down pushed down harder to keep him still as the needle disappeared beneath his flesh. Suddenly, his cries came to a grinding halt and his body went limp.
“Take him to his room. Make absolutely certain that there is nothing in there he can harm someone with. Keep the straight jacket on him from now on.” I ordered. Each of the orderlies nodded as they lifted his now limp, tired body from the floor. His head slumped forward onto his chest, and I could hear a slight whimper as they carried him off, his feet grinding across the floor.
The third orderly helped me get Phillip off of the floor and the both of us proceeded to take him down the hall to our infirmary.
As we exited my dark, dingy office to the bright white lights of the hallway, I turned to watch Warfstache being carted off to the elevators. His body lolled back and forth as the two men beside him struggled to maintain his now dead weight. I could almost hear a soft sob echo from him against the walls as I turned away, focusing on getting this poor man some aid. I thought then that perhaps I now knew what I was in for with him as a patient. If only I knew how wrong I had been then.

The City Psychiatric Facility for the Criminally Insane
FILE #1192012
Patient Name: Col. William “Wilford” Warfstache
Primary Psychologist: Dr. Miriam Antwood, MD
Secondary: Dr. Yousef Hillmeyer, MD
Patient Intake: Dr. Miriam Antwood, MD
First Impression Diagnosis: Patient brought in in a state of hysteria. Laughing maniacally to himself, repeating the same phrase (“It was all a joke”) over and over. Possible Borderline Personality Disorder or traumatic onset Psycopathy? Signs of late onset schizophrenia. or possibly  Talks to people who aren’t there sometimes. Refers to someone named “Damien” a lot during first conversation.
Patient was brought in after authorities scoured Markiplier Manor upon news that Mark “Markiplier” Fischbach had been murdered during a gathering with friends. Attempted to ask William about this, refused to acknowledge. Will further attempt to breech the subject as we proceed. Patient had to be subdued via tranquilizers at the end of first meeting. Attempted to stab an orderly with my letter opener shouting “Look, I can’t kill anyone! I’ll prove it.”. Sign of Antisocial Personality Disorder? Definitive sign of psycopathy. As previously stated, induced by traumatic event.
Patient was taken to room 0628.

Patient Item Inventory: One pair of glasses with attachments, one pair suspenders (red), one pair khakis (tan), one pair boots (black), one button up shirt (yellow, white collar/cuffs), one 44. magnum pistol (siezed by The City Police Department)

Initial Prognosis: Therapy sessions three times per week alongside Fluphenazine (2.5 mg to start every 6-8 hours), Lorazepam (2 mg to start 2 times per day), and Trifluoperazine (3 mg to start, 2 times per day)
These may change as patient progresses or degresses.


Author’s Note:

Hello all! Welcome to the first chapter of my Markiplier fan fiction. As you may have guessed, this is post “Who Killed Markiplier?” And this goes off of my theory of what happened. I will, to the best of my ability, keep things Canon in most areas. In others, I’m going to take some creative liberties. BUT regardless, I hope everyone enjoys :) I expect to be pretty frequent with this, if there are times that I’ll be absent I’ll be sure to let you all know. Thanks for reading!

Find a way - Sirius Black x Reader

Request: Hey love, can you a write a Sirius x reader in which reder reader is best friends with James and Remus but with she is constntly fighting over ridiculous thing with Sirius and they dont really get along. AND one day J and R had enough and they lock them in small place (like a closet) until they clear things up and when they unlock them they’re in front of a making up session between Sirius and the reader. I know it has a lot of details but yeahhh…
Warnings: My English, language, idk sarcasm, a bit suggestive? Gif and image aren’t mine. Credits to their original owners.
Word Count~1.7k
Pending Requests

You didn’t really know why you would always fight with him over the most ridiculous things. You didn’t really know why he annoyed you as much as he did. You couldn’t stand each other. That was a bit of a problem, considering that you were both friends with James and Remus. It just meant that you had to tolerate him while he was around but he didn’t make it easy on you. On the contrary, he was trying extra hard to piss you off.I
t was one thing to act all arrogant and it was another to display his hatred for you in front of everybody. You didn’t hate him; you didn’t particularly like him either but you didn’t hate him. He, however, seemed pretty clear about his feelings for you. He was always so moody and angry and… infuriated whenever you were around. And it kind of sucked.
You were currently studying with Remus and James had tagged along-dragging, quite literally- Sirius with him. You had been explaining something that made all of them a bit confused. Until Sirius started humming a song and distracted you. He didn’t pay attention. Of course. Why did that even surprise you? You coughed to let him know that he was annoying and gave him a pointed look.
“Me pretending to listen should be enough for you” he replied without even looking at you. You really wanted to hit him with a book. Or a table. Whatever.
“You know you will be the only one who would survive the Apocalypse. Zombies eat brains. You’ll be safe” you retorted as you went back to reading and writing down some notes. James snorted and Remus chuckled, things that only made him more… extra.
“If you wrote down every single thought you ever had you would get an award for the shortest story ever” he said overly sweet and you felt like you could throw up. On him. You just forced a smile and looked at him with a cold expression.
“I’m smiling at you…that alone should scare you enough to make you shut up” you raised your voice a bit because he was exasperating.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked all defensively and his voice was betraying him- he was a bit angry. But guess what? So were you.
“Why? Have you forgotten?” you asked him in return and gained yourself a death glare. Well, it was worth it. He was fuming. Why were you fighting again?
“Do you want a piece of my mind?!” he exclaimed and Madam Pince came rushing over to your table. You knew you were about to be thrown out of the Library any time soon.
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly take the last piece” you used sarcasm as your way out. But it only made things worse.
“Great, guys. Thanks a lot” Remus scolded you and you felt terrible. He, on the other hand, didn’t. Or at least he didn’t show it.

“You are being ridiculous Black. Give it back” you yelled at him. You wanted your book back. It was your favorite Muggle book and he had taken it. He was just looking at you with a devilish smirk.
You looked around the common room. It was only the guys and you. You had agreed to help James with Lily and Remus needed a good laugh. Sirius… well, he was Sirius.
He stood up, causing Remus to give him a pointed look but he ignored it and threw the book into the flames of the fireplace. You screamed in agony.
“Are you insane?!” you shrieked at him as you ran to the fireplace, trying to save the poor book. Even James, who usually sided with Sirius, was taken aback. Remus smacked his head, hard as you were practically burning your hands. It was the only thing that you had left of your family. But of course, he didn’t care.
James tried to move you but he gave up as you began to cry. You ran out of the common room in a blur wishing for things to be different.
“What the fucking hell?” he roared once he saw his things kind of… destroyed. Everything in the dorm was intact except his side. It was a big mess. Things thrown everywhere, ripped shirts, broken stuff, burned books. He thought he knew who had done this but he was wrong.
He stormed out of the dorm and almost collided with you in the middle of a corridor as he was trying to find you.
“What gave you the right to destroy my things?” he said almost threatening. You furrowed your eyebrows. You hadn’t done anything.
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I am simply ignoring you. Now, if you’ll excuse me” you answered him coldly. But before he could say anything else, both of you were pushed towards your left into… a broom closet? Really?! And the door was slammed closed.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” you screamed and punched the door.
“No. You are not getting out of there if you don’t make peace with each other” Remus’ voice was heard. Bloody hell. Those fucking idiots.
“Cut the crap Lupin” Sirius said in a very dark tone. For once, you agreed.
“No, Black. It’s getting very annoying. Clear things up and then you’ll get out”. That was James. So much for helping him and him being grateful. You huffed.
“Screw you Potter” you whispered under your breath.
When all you could hear was silence, you took a step back, your back hitting the wall. Great. It was tiny. They were so dead.
“You know this is your fault” he accused you a moment later. You were startled. It was pitch black but somehow his eyes were sparkling with anger and something else.
“You’re one insult away from starting a war” you commented dryly. That little shit. He laughed ironically.
“If you hadn’t destroyed my things” he started but you cut him off.
“I told you. I have no idea what happened. But maybe you should consider who else you pissed off before accusing me. Any girl in particular?” you were so close to each other, you suddenly realized. Oh, no. He was about to fire something back but he remembered. Yes, it had been another girl.
“Oh. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re annoying as hell or that-”
“Do you ever shut up? Merlin, you’re trouble” you asked him rhetorically, rolling your eyes.
“You look cute when you’re angry”. What? What? What just happened? You felt red staining your cheeks. You dropped all your walls. You had enough.
“I can’t keep doing this, Sirius. I’m tired of us fighting all the time. I am done” you finally told him. Your voice held all the exhaustion and all the sadness and disappointment you felt. He felt his heart dropped to the floor. Yours had fallen a long time ago. Fallen in love with him. It was such a cliché story. You hated him, he hated you. You had fallen in love and had tried to pretend that you hated him still. But something wasn’t exactly the way it was supposed to be.
“I’m sorry about your book. Remus told me” he stated hesitantly. Did he just apologize?
You weren’t prepared for that. His voice was sincere, honest.
“Make me feel something other than anger or disappointment. Anything” you informed him, pleading him to just let you go. This was too painful for you.
You couldn’t pretend anymore. You were sick and tired of it.
“Isn’t it so painfully obvious that I’m crushing on you?”.

Your eyebrows were furrowed in an attempt to recognize any signs of irony or sarcasm. But there was nothing but those naked words. And suddenly you felt so exposed and hyped.
“Right now, I don’t know if I should kiss you or bang your head against the wall” you huffed. How many more fights and how many more broken hearts was he going to waste?
He chuckled and heaven felt closer than ever.
You could make out his soft smile and his lovely grey eyes fixed on you.
“You gotta stop doing that” he said as he took a step closer. Oh, no.
“What?” you asked breathlessly. His scent was all over the place. He was all over the place. Intoxicating you in the best possible way.
“Saying things that make me wanna kiss you. And if I kiss you, I don’t know if I would be able to stop”. He was dangerously close. His one hand found your cheek and cupped your face while his other hand held a strong grip onto your hip. Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin. Okay, breathe. Just breathe. But how could you be okay when all you could see, smell, touch, sense was him?
“Sirius…” you slightly warned him. How could you do this? He had thought of it before. In his wildest dreams, you were his.
“We’ll find a way” he breathed out and you almost melted under his words and his touch.
Your fingertips were exploring his toned torso, over his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it but your hands were shaking, so you just gave up and reached for his hair, fingers getting lost in his dark locks.
His lips were finally on yours. It was a hungry kiss. It was almost desperate, frantic, erratic, wild. Maybe because you had both suppressed those feelings you held for each other. His lips were hot and you gladly opened your mouth, wanting more. Wanting all of him. He explored your mouth eagerly. He tasted of cigarettes and sugar. You were too drunk off of him to care about how fast things were escalating.
Your hands had finally ripped his shirt off. You would be cocky too if you had a body like that. His hands squeezed your bum as he wrapped your legs around his waist and slammed you against the wall.
His lips were on your neck and your hands everywhere on his upper body, as you rested your head in the crook of his neck, mimicking his actions. He found your sweet spot making you let out a low moan. His hands moved underneath your shirt and he -
“Okay! Show’s over” James sort of yelled. That was anticlimactic. Sirius, though, didn’t let you go.
“Shame. You know, she has an amazing mouth. All those possibilities…” he trailed off. You blushed even more but you did answer to him.
“You’ll be using your mouth as well, love” you whispered seductively. He gave your thigh a squeeze as he smirked
“I was counting on it”. 

tags: @orionsirivsblack @kapolisradomthoughts @nadinissavage @sirius-black-deserved-better

Canon Scout: Runs fast, can cap points quickly, can confuse sentries at times. 


Canon Soldier: Moderately strong, can launch rockets at his enemies.


Canon Pyro: Mysterious masked being that burns people to death. Feared everywhere.


Canon Engineer: Intellectual, can build sentries to defend an area from enemies.


Canon Heavy: Very strong, can mow down enemies with minigun.


Canon Demoman: Good with melee weapons, can set stickybombs in areas in need of defense.


Canon Medic: Insane doctor,  can make people invulnerable for a short time.


Canon Sniper: Very good at aim, can snipe from far away.


Canon Spy: Secretive, can disguise as enemy team.


The Joker x Reader - “The Red Queen”

The Joker’s Red Queen is as dangerous and lethal as he is. Her heart is full of secrets and she is capable of unspeakable acts. The Queen of Gotham wouldn’t have survived for so long in his world if not for her perfect instincts and abilities.

“Hey, didn’t see you around before; what’s your name?” you address J, turning your head towards him.

“No talking!” one of the heavily geared soldiers warns, holding tighter to his riffle.

You ignore him, rattling your chains in order to get The Joker’s attention:

“Hey, handsome, are you single?”

“I said no talking!” and the van takes a sharp turn, making you lean on J for a few seconds. “Pardon me, sir,” you sniffle, “it wasn’t on purpose. Do you work out?”

“What did I just tell you, hm?” the guard snaps, getting annoyed with your crap.

The Joker has the most demented grin they ever saw on anybody’s face: he just keeps on looking straight, not saying a word. It makes all 5 of them uncomfortable, even if they’ve seen a few insane things in their line of work.

One of the guards quietly analyzes you:  he didn’t see you in person before and now that you’re right in front of him he can’t help but glare:

You are wearing a two piece red leather suit, pants and sleeveless top, red high hills and your very red and very long hair almost reaches your waist. You have “RED QUEEN” tattooed around your neck with red ink like a choker, the word “Joker” repeatedly going down from it about an inch apart, making look like a necklace. Your left cheek has “King” tattooed with green ink next to a red heart and your right cheek is tattooed with the word “Queen.” More tattoos on your arms, spelling “J+Y/N”, “Red Queen” and “Mister J’s Queen.”

You smirk and he realizes you’re looking back at him.

“You’re cute. Like what you see?” you wink, unraveling your perfect white teeth that stand out even more against the bright red lipstick.

No answer.

“Are you hitting on my woman?” The Clown Prince of Crime finally speaks in such an outworldly tone it almost manifests in physical form. Definitely gave you goosebumps and you love it. Your guardians, not that much.

“I wasn’t doing any…”

“Don’t engage, that’s what they want,” the one that seems in charge reminds the rest of them.

You giggle, then start humming and grab J’s arm:

“Anytime now,” you whisper and your hand gets slapped away by the soldier that was checking you out earlier:

“No touching you damned lunatics!”

“Calm down, we are only here to make sure they get to the destination, it will be over soon,” the guy next to him points out, trying to keep everybody’s temper under control.

“If you touch The Red Queen one more time, you’re dead,” J threatens, the psychotic smug smile returning on his face.

“Shut the hell up, you crazy son of a…” the warden starts his tirade but gets interrupted.

“I said don’t engage, it is exactly what they want!”

“Yes, captain,” the man straightens his back even more, taking a deep breath before regaining his posture.

“Wise words honey,” you agree, smacking your lips. “And if you talk to the King of Gotham in such a disrespectful manner one more time, you’re not going to live through the night,” you crack your shoulders, maintaining an eerie smile.

“Shut up!” you get yelled at once more.

“Nobody…” The Joker’s chest is going up and down faster and faster, “…tells my Queen to shut up except me!!” He’s beginning to lose control and you are very fond of what follows.

“Why are these two freaks so obsessed with each other?! I don’t get it!” the soldier that slapped your hand gets mad.

“Do not engage, don’t make me repeat it one more time!!!” the captain snarls, tired with tonight’s assignment. He was supposed to be in bed already, if not for this stupid late night secret mission.

“Sorry, sir,” the apology is fast to follow.

You tap your red painted nails on the metal bar that separates your seat from J’s, amused.

“This was fun, huh? I’m not bored anymore,” you snicker and the Joker is fast to laugh in such a strange way it makes them all cringe.

A sudden strong impact and the van being turned around at 360 degrees makes you grab his hand and mutter:

“A few minutes late; could be worse, right?”

*** Both of you were in the mood for some action and had to do something about it: you decided to burgle a fancy jewelry store and let yourselves be captured. Of course that once the cops were there they called the Special Unit Force to escort you in great secrecy to Gotham Police headquarters.

Frost and your henchmen were instructed to follow closely and stop them from fulfilling their objective. All was planned in only one day: when the adrenaline rushes through your veins, no need for more - just act on instinct and impulsiveness. Your goons faked a blockade and the unmarked, bullet proof van took a turn towards the less busy roads under the Bridge of Angels. No convoy of police cars, no sirens, no fuss: the point was to haul you without getting any unwanted attention.

Which you guessed will happen.

And it did. ***

“What do you want to do with them, Doll?” J aims his head towards the kneeled soldiers surrounded by about 25 armed henchmen.

“I don’t know, they were pretty entertaining, don’t you think?” you rest your head on The Joker’s shoulder as he’s holding on to your waist.

“Should we kill them?” he inquires, undecided. He’s starting to trace your neck tattoo with his fingers, purring with such intensity it sends shivers down your spine. How you love the sensation!

“Whatever you want, baby,” you bite your red lips, fluttering your eyelashes. “But I don’t want be here anymore since we already had our fun. Actually…I take it back…We can have even more fun since we’re still awake,” you change your mind instantly because you’re both so turned on by tonight’s events. “Just state your will and then let’s go, the boys can take care of the rest. I really want to get you back to the penthouse. Pleeassee…” you moan the last sentence in his ear and he closes his eyes, aroused with anticipation.

“You’re such a bad girl, Pumpkin,” he growls, brushing his thumb on your “King” tattoo for a few moments, fighting with himself. “Go in the car, I’ll be back shortly,” he urges you, spanking your butt as you turn around and walk away towards one of the SUV’s awaiting on the side of the road.


Early morning and you didn’t snooze for one second. You surely exhausted J and now he’s in a deep sleep. You carefully move your head from his chest, cautious not to wake him up. You snatch a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from the closet, not making any noises, and after finding your car keys you sneak out of the penthouse, avoiding being seen at all costs.

After about 20 minutes of driving, you get to the meeting point at the abandoned factory on Helssel Street. Your contact is already there. You approach, suspicions.

“Who are you?” you grumble, surveilling your surroundings, just in case.

“My name is agent Collins. Nice to meet you agent Y/N,” the guy tries to speak and you cut him off.

“Spare me! Are you new?” you squint your eyes, already uneasy and displeased.

“Yes, just started with the bureau 6 months ago,” he informs, holding his ground.

“Are you kidding me??!! They are sending someone new? What level are you, did you even get your clearance level A yet?!” you raise your voice, annoyed. My God, what the hell are they doing sending this newbie to talk to you?!

“Not yet, soon, this is one of my tasks in order to obtain it.”

“I only deal with FBI agents that are at least level C, this is unacceptable!” you strut towards him and he doesn’t seem happy at your rant.

“With all due respect, agent Y/N, you might be level E, but it doesn’t mean that…” Collins protests, aware his skills need improvement but he’s not incompetent, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it this far.

“With all due respect, agent Collins,” you interrupt with a gesture of your hand,” don’t speak about things you know nothing about. I am involved in a very dangerous and strenuous undercover mission as I am sure you are aware. I can’t risk having my cover blown off, not after 3 years. It was very hard work to get into his world and make him trust me. I can’t risk any mistakes, that’s why I am appalled they send a new agent for our little briefing.”

“I am good at what I do, I’m not a kid. Please don’t address me as such,” he has the nerve to reply.

You chuckle, wanting to punch his lights out:

“Do you know what level E is?”

Collins nods a yes, irked you treat him like an idiot when in fact he’s very capable of handling all this. You just have your opinions so you continue:

“Level E agents are trained to do everything it takes for their missions. EVERYTHING! And The Joker is one…” and you almost scream, ”…tough insane psychopath!!! And I have to fuck him, kill for him, do EVERYTHING he asks of me since I am his ‘girlfriend’. Oh, I’m sorry, am I offending your little virgin ears??!!!” you suck on your teeth when he flaunts that grimace all over his mug. “I do EVERYTHING to keep myself in his world, this way I can give the Bureau all the info they need about the corrupt officials he deals with, future plans he might have, names, locations and dates. The Joker will go down last, after we get all we need.”

He is clearly offended and you are losing your patience. You take a deep breath and finish the meeting:

“Tell them all is good, I will e-mail them more encrypted data soon,” and you start walking away.

“I will actually be the one decrypting it!” he notifies you and you just raise your arm, shaking it as goodbye.

“Tell someone that cares, honey.”

You walk a couple of blocks to get to the alley where you parked your car. You are furious they send an agent in training and keep on mumbling to yourself. You had more things to say but because you’re stubborn, you refused to. I guess you’ll just have to send all the stuff in your e-mail.

You are almost at your vehicle when you see a shadow emerging from behind the building and you realize is The Joker.

“Baby Doll,” he walks fast your way and you nervously gulp, halting in your tracks.

“J, what are you doing here? I was just…”

You don’t get to finish your phrase because he hugs you tight, crushing you in his arms.

“I am being a gentleman and making sure my girl gets safely to her car,” he whispers and you lose your breath when you feel the sharp blade piercing through your ribs, deeper and deeper. You push him away, wincing in pain, hardly being able to still stand, shocked.

Why are you so dizzy and why can’t you move? You attempt to say something but barely manage to open your mouth. You start coughing and lean your back against the car, sliding down to the ground, everything fading from your already cloudy mind.

“Something to remind you of me, Kitten,” J stops in front of you, kicking your leg.  “The blade has been dipped in a paralyzing substance, this way you won’t struggle. As a thanks for being an awesome girlfriend,” and he reaches his hand to close your eyes. You wish you could fight, but the numbness took over your body with an alarming velocity. And now that your eyes are closed, maybe they won’t open again.


“Welcome back, Y/N,” you hear Commissar Gordon’s voice and you blink a few times, trying to focus on his face.

“Hello, s-sir…” you manage utter, coming back to reality. You are in a hospital bed, hooked to IV’s. “Where…where am I?” you lift your head from the pillow and instantly drop it back, weak and feeling drained.

“FBI headquarters, ICU unit, I guess you’re not familiar since you’ve never had to use it,” he gets up from his chair and takes a sit on your bed.

“How long was I out?” you lick your lips, thirsty and still a bit out of it.

“Two days. You were lucky Agent Collins followed you and found you in time,” he sighs, grateful you are still breathing.

“That bad, huh?” you moan in pain when you try to turn on your side. You lift the sheet up and see you are patched up where The Joker stabbed you.

“Well, it wasn’t good either. I’m glad you’re still with us,” Gordon admits and you know he’s sincere.

“Thank you, sir,” you wince in pain. “My cover got blown up, do we know what happened?” you request to find out.

“No, not yet, I think we might have a moll, we are thoroughly investigating the problem.”

“3 years…3 fucking years, and all is lost,” your eyes get teary from frustration and he touches your hand, sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, you were unbelievably tenacious and did a lot of good work. I know you’ve been through hell…”

“I’m fine,” you lie, not happy at your present situation.

“They will want to talk to you as soon as possible, they need all the information they can obtain. You don’t get to rest even if you deserve it. They will expect a full report and you’ll have to go through all the required steps, there are rules to be followed.”

“I know, sir,” you finally manage to lift yourself on your elbow.

“They are aware certain…feelings and …emotions are involved after being with him for so long, they want you in counselling and therapy too.”

“I understand the procedure, sir, it’s OK,” you agree, obedient. All this shit that follows comes with the job. “I don’t know how he followed me, I added the sleeping pills in his water and watched him drink it,” you fret, puzzled on how it went downhill so fast. “I’m a level E agent, I know what I’m doing.”

The commissar gets up, taking his leave. He knows better than to let you continue to torment yourself at this point. It’s no use.

“I’ll let you rest, then, we’ll keep in touch.”

You point your finger towards your neck tattoo, no words are necessary.

“You’ll have those removed as soon as there’s time.”

“Sir!” you yell after him when he opens the door. “Can I please have somebody help dying my hair back to black today? I can’t stand this red anymore!”

“Of course,” he exhales, contemplating about a million things he needs to do after this total fiasco of your undercover operation ending so abruptly.


A few weeks go by and you are caught in the endless twist of briefings, meetings, reports and assessment sessions to assert your state of mind, while they are looking for The Joker with no success. You didn’t even have time to remove all your tattoos because it’s a long process and right now you don’t have precious hours to spare. You just cover your skin with make-up, burying your past under and the two accursed names that will forever be ingrained in your memory: The Joker and his Red Queen.  


**Three months after the incident the SWAT team was able to capture your former boyfriend at your suggestion that he might be hanging around certain places. After all, you knew so many of his secrets and were able to predict his moves because you got to experience firsthand on how he works. You are not a level E agent for nothing! You didn’t waste so many years on this task, so much of your life and expertise just to sit around and not counteract. When you got the call in the middle of the night, you jumped out of bed so fast you almost dropped your cell, shaking at the unexpected news. He will be transported in great secrecy to Arkham Asylum where he surely belongs.

You are appointed as one of the 4 agents to accompany him to his destination and you get ready in such a hurry it scares you. Can’t wait to face the jerk and strangle him yourself if you get the chance, that is. **

You are sitting right across from a handcuffed Joker, panting and trying to control your urge to act. He just looks down at his shoes, avoiding eye contact for once. The other three agents are sitting to your left in perfect silence and alert.

J decides to move his blue gaze from the floor to your face, a total deranged smirk flourishing on his lips.

“Hi there Princess,” and he snorts, rolling his eyes.

“No talking!” one of your companions warns.

“What is it with you guys and no talking, huh?” he moves his jaw sideways, his eyes burning with madness.

The van stops at a red light and then continues its itinerary.

He winks at you, delighted in his lunacy.

“I’m glad to see you’re alive and well, Doll,” he yammers, disregarding the rest of them. “Daddy missed you!” he purrs and you clench your teeth, really straining to keep it together.

“Cut it out or you’re gonna get it!” the threat comes and he laughs, excited.

“Ahhhh, promise?… Don’t interrupt while I’m talking to my woman!!” he abruptly changes his voice to such a low tone it’s uncomfortable to hear.

You indifferently begin to wipe the foundation covering your tattoos on neck and cheeks with the sleeve of your suit, still quiet.

“Shut it down, Clown, I mean it!!!” the guy closest to you loses his patience, aggravated.

You instantly decide to verbalize your feelings:

“If you talk to the King of Gotham in such a disrespectful manner one more time, you’re not going to live through the night,” you tilt your head towards the man, chuckling and they all instinctively reach for their guns. “Thank God I was in charge of loading them, right?” you kiss the air, satisfied they fell for it. “Nahhh, I wouldn’t do that,” you pucker your lips when they still try to do something about it, getting ready to fight. “Don’t do anything stupid, you know what I’m capable of. Might I remind you I’m a level E agent?”


You kick the limp bodies at your feet, uncuffing J in the process.

“You’re mad at me?” he checks, inhaling your perfume.

“I thought we agreed you’re not going to stab me, yes?!” you snap at him, and he kisses your wrist, euphoric to touch you again. “You really took me by surprise!”
“I changed my mind, it was the best plan in order to achieve what we wanted, Pumpkin. And I used the paralyzing substance so you won’t feel pain. Am I nice to my girl or what?!” he praises himself, high from all the excitement of seeing you in action again; it’s been a while. 

“I have a scar, you know I hate scars!” you complain, pushing him away when he tries to hug you but then yank him back in your embrace, infatuated by his presence.

“But it was fun, wasn’t it? We were sooo bored, at least it was entertaining for a while. And you got me all the info I wanted right from the source,” he impatiently kisses you and it makes you weak in the knees. “How come my Red Queen has black hair, hm?” he tugs on your long locks, his hot lips kissing your shoulder up your neck. “Unacceptable!” he growls and you smile, enjoying having him so close again.

“It will be back to red again tomorrow,” you agree and you sense the van stopping. “I think we’re here,” you happily announce, relieved you’re back where you belong and don’t have to pretend anymore.


Your treachery was a strong blow to the bureau; they didn’t expect that to happen in a million years. Commissar Gordon was heartbroken at the news, he completely trusted you and had high hopes. He even saw you in a high rank within the organization as a future perspective. He would have vouch for you and supported you all the way.

But things turned ugly and it pains him to add your name to the FBI most wanted list. He took it upon himself to update your online file:

Agent Name: Y/N

Code Name: The Red Queen

Clearance Level: E

Status: Inactive

Special instructions: Extremely dangerous, approach with caution

His fingers are hesitant on the keyboard as he types in the final note:

Grade A Warning: Rogue