she talked about where she works and lives

anonymous asked:

Hello, I was really hoping you could give me some roomie advice... I just had a new roommate move in and she is really sweet, my other two roommates like her as well. The only issue is that she is a very extroverted musician and only works in the afternoon/evenings and I have random days off in the middle of the week and we are often home at the same time. Whenever I am she wants to have talk, show me her music, and hangout, but I'm an introvert and being home is my time to just relax (1/3)

           A lot of the things she talks about are overshares about her personal life like we’ve known each other our whole lives and sometimes even slightly triggering for me. Its gotten to the point where I don’t even venture out into the kitchen or living room when I know she’s home because I’m trying to enjoy my alone time and being out of my room apparently means we can have extended conversations when all I’m trying to do is make tea or read. (2/3) 

           Sometimes she’ll come stand outside my room and start talking to me outside the closed door, then eventually just come right in. I want to talk to her about this but I feel like such an a**hole since she’s been here less than a week and her last housing situation was really bad, plus I know she tends to take things very personally. How do I tell her I need her to leave me alone even when I’m home all day and recharging without hurting her feelings or making her feel unwelcome? (3/3) Thank you!            

Kid, I feel you. My husband and I are both extroverted introverts, which means we love hanging out with friends… but then we need some serious introvert time to recharge. Living with an extrovert who wants to talk and hang out all the time sounds like torture… or at least like my living situation when I was 22 and had 6 roommates. I’ll tell you how we solved that situation.

You’re going to need to give a little to get a little in this scenario, but let me assure you that you’re NOT being unreasonable. Yes, this girl has a painful past and is sensitive to criticism, and she’s probably not intentionally holding you hostage in your own home. But you still have the right to be comfortable too, even if that affects someone else.

Schedule a “family meeting” with all the roomies. Tell them, “Since New Roomie has now settled in after a week, I think we should all have a family meeting to set some ground rules and make sure no one’s stepping on anyone else’s toes.” Make it a fun thing! Get pizza and beer or whatever you kids are snacking on these days (iamsofuckingold). Then lay out your agenda:

1. Everyone go around and say what your pet peeves in a living situation are.

2. Everyone go around and suggest rules for roommate harmony. In your case, you might say, “So I’m a bit of an introvert, which means I need alone-time to recharge from social situations. It’s not that I don’t love being with you guys, it’s just that I get stressed out if I don’t have my alone time. So can we set a ground rule that when my bedroom door is closed, it means no one can come talk to me?” Someone else might say, “Please don’t leave dirty dishes in the sink for longer than 24 hours. It’s not fair if someone else wants to use those dishes.”

3. Everyone agree on how and when bills will be paid.

4. Everyone decide if you need a chore chart/cleaning schedule and how that shit will work.

The purpose of the meeting is to get everything out in the open in a way that’s formal, but supportive of everyone in the household. Instead of being a conflict between two people, your roommates will also have a chance to set their boundaries. This process will make it very clear when someone is in violation of agreed-upon boundaries, which makes it much easier to be like “Hey, remember how I said I need introvert time? This is one of those times.”

i spend a lot of time daydreaming about my other lives

about the me who lives out in the middle of the new england countryside, where i’m quite lonely, but i have a couple goats and cows and chickens that i look after, and i like to make jam and i have an enormous huge crush on my beautiful neighbor who trades me her honey, and i invite her over for tea a little too often to not be super obvious

the me who was born and raised in new york city, who’s sharper and angrier, yet still so kind, with a fire in her eyes and shards in her words, who lives in a awful gross 2 bedroom apartment with 4 other people and loves the people in her life fiercely and is obscene about her art and smokes too much and doesn’t sleep enough, ever, 

the me who went on a backpacking trip through europe after graduation with a desperate need to escape but it was a lot harsher than she thought but she fell in love halfway through france and lives in a tiny city with the love of her life and doesn’t talk to anyone she used to know; she still calls her mother sometimes, but no one knows where she is and she has never felt so free (she is still working on her french)

the me who is on the road to her first oscar, who manages to dodge out of all the gossip rags, who gets to do beautiful work in a city that she hates but she endures and she is not sure if this is what she wanted but it’s what she has so maybe she’ll run with it for now 

the me who lives in a tiny studio somewhere in stockholm, a me who paints and draws her nights away and spends her mornings kneading bread and folding dough for hours and hours and she never wears makeup and the city is both so busy and so quiet and she works as an english tour guide on the weekends at the palace (her swedish is almost perfect, though)

and the me here, with a loud head and a messy kitchen and a giant heart who spends too much time thinking about all the things she is not instead of focusing on the wonder of what she is

Warning Signs (Tony and Peter X Fem!Reader) *None Romantic

Characters: Peter X Fem!Reader (Friends), Tony X Fem!Reader (Adopted)

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Mentions of Domestic abuse


Request:Can you write one where reader goes to peter Parkers school and she also started interning at the avengers tower as a lab assistant? She gets along with the team and considers them family. She ends up not showing up at school or the tower for a few days so Peter goes to her house to check on her and finds out she’s being abused by her parents. He takes her out of there and refuses to let her leave the tower and then Tony gets involved and presses charges on her parents. He decides to adopt her.


Originally posted by marveldcuniv3rse


Originally posted by youdovethroughaholeintheuniverse

You were best friends with Peter Parker, and you were one of the few people who knew about his alter ego. You bonded over your smart minds, and while he worked on making new devices, you worked on chemicals and Mathematics. Because of your ability, Peter put your name forward to a certain Stark and Banner.

You got called out class by the Principal one day since someone needed to see you, and you nearly fainted when Tony Stark and Dr Banner were waiting and asked you to spend a week in their lab, and if you did well, they would take you on as an assistant. You tackle hugged Peter in a hug, thanking him repeatedly.

Keep reading

Peraltiago Headcanon #2

So the day that Amy has to start desk-duty only when she’s pregnant is the most dreaded day in the history of the 99. Everyone, and I mean everyone (even Hitchcock and Scully), have been fearing this day. So when Jake runs into the precinct 10 minutes early with a terrified look on his face none of them are surprised. They aren’t surprised at what he says next either:
“Listen up everyone! I don’t care what is going on, what drama is up in your life, because this woman will cut your head off. So don’t say anything to offend her because she will kill you. Also Charles please don’t eat lunch in the bullpen today because your food stinks for realz”
However, they are all surprised when 5 minutes later Jake comes back up with what seems like a perfectly normal (even more enthusiastic about work than usual) Amy Santiago. She just sits down at her desk and starts to work. Meanwhile Jake is staring holes into the top of her head to the point where he gets less work done than usual (but to be honest how much work did he do before?). It gets to the point where even Rosa has to pull her aside and have a semi-heartfelt talk. To which Amy’s response is “Rosa I’m fine. It’s just paperwork. I love paperwork”
This goes on for a week or so when suddenly everything crashes.
Amy now comes in trudging after her husband in his old NYPD academy sweatshirt holding a decaf coffee (something that scares the living crap out of Charles until Jake reassures him that “no Charles there is no caffeine in it. Yes I bought it. Yes I checked with the barista. Charles it won’t DONT TALK ABOUT MY WIFE’S PLACENTA CHARLES”). Amy now sits at her desk filling out paperwork with the speed of a tortoise. She no longer asks if she can fill out anyone else’s work for them. It gets to the point where she is volunteering for door duty (to which the answer is no. From both the captain and Jake “babe, there could be a murderer at one of the doors” “I’m pretty sure that there isn’t. It’s a senior retirement community”).
But when she has to finally take maternity leave is when the monster in her is finally unleashed. (She still comes to the precinct. Not as “Detective Santiago” but as “Jake’s wife only here to bring him lunch and totally not to work on a case, Terry do not unplug my computer!”)
She ends up going into labor at the precinct while Jake and Charles are on a stakeout. Jake of course freaks out when he sees the 30+ voicemails from Amy, Rosa, Terry, Gina, and Holt. Most of them being along the lines of
“hey babe so I think I’m in labor. Please get back here”
“Dude, your wife’s in labor.”
“Jake, your baby is being born! This is the best day of your life, where are you?”
“Jake so your wife is pushing out your fetus as we speak. Wait what no it’s just contractions. Get here soon. This is disgusting. Also someone stole all the gum in your desk and it totally wasn’t me. Bye boo”
“Jacob, it seems as though Santiago has gone into labor with your child. She would like to know where you are. Would you like me to help her or do I make her too uncomfortable?”
By the time Jake and Charles get back to the precinct Amy’s contractions are about 6 minutes apart and Charles is freaking out for the both of them. After they get to the hospital it takes about another 3 hours for the baby to be born
“I take back what I said, Sarge, THIS has to be the longest birth ever. And this prison doesn’t even have free wifi, ugh”
Everyone is in a nervous-yet-sluggish mood, that is until Jake comes running out the double doors leading to the maternity wing screaming “It’s a girl! I’ve got a daughter! I did it!”
Hugs and handshakes are passed all around. Even Gina cries a little the first time she sees the “either most awesome or most boring child in the world, there is no in between”.
Even Kevin visits “she doesn’t have your nose, Jacob, that is an accomplishment”.
The day ends with Amy and Jake snuggled up in her too-small hospital bed and their little girl sleeping peacefully beside them surrounded with flowers and gifts from her many aunts, uncles, and “Grandpas Ray and Kevin” (Holt totally doesn’t cry “it’s just allergies, Kevin, 30% of the population experiences it” (despite the fact that it’s winter))

Thoughts on the Frozen 2 ending

Ok you know what? I wouldn’t be as upset as I am with Elsa living in the forest if they actually showed her forming a connection with it. Like, Elsa talking to the Northuldra people and actually having meaningful conversations, being interested in their culture, feeling…something more deep toward this magical place. 

Or maybe in the initial flashback when Agnarr is talking about the forest, Elsa saying: “maybe that’s where I should live because I have magic too” and Anna of course replying “NOOO you will live here with me forever!!!” or something like that.

Oh and actually showing what the hell she has to do there. I’m sorry but “she has to balance the elements” isn’t enough for me, because if Arendelle now is united with the forest and magic, why does Elsa has to stay there to balance everything? “She feels she belongs there” ok but where was this showed??? Again, just telling me things doesen’t work! She just says “Wow this forest is so pretty” and this is supposed to be enough for me to believe that she would decide to live there? Show me that she really feels connected to that place, that it’s completely her choice to go there and it’s not just because it fits her new role more.

But most of all, actually showing that Anna is ok with Elsa living elsewhere. I really feel that Anna had just to accept everything so fast. Coupled with the fact that she’s now queen, if I was her I would be overwhelmed. From what they showed us in the movie, I didn’t really feel her full acceptance towards this new situation.

I would have liked to see Anna slowly understanding throughout the movie that Elsa really feels connected to this forest, but at the beginning she doesen’t want to admit it to herself because to her, this place is just another door, another thing that could take Elsa away from her forever. Maybe actually using her line “If I lost her, I think I would loose myself”.

But at the end, after having actually lost Elsa, she understands that her sister has to go to live away, that she’s not losing her, and most of all it’s fine because Elsa’s happy, and so is she.

Anna looking at Elsa with pride and sadness in her eyes; Elsa noticing this and going to hug her tight, asking her if she’s really ok with this, with them not living together anymore. Telling her that she could stil live in the castle. And Anna replying that no, it wouldn’t be fair to Elsa and that yes, she is fine with this, because it’s not like those horrible 13 years, it’s not a real separation, it’s just change, but it’s not something bad. It will not be easy to get used to it, but it’s fine because “some things never change” “and I’m holding on tight to you”.

The thing that makes me so damn angry and disappointed is that it was all so rushed that it didn’t give me the time to accept these changes, they were just thrown to me! It’s not what they’ve done that it’s wrong, it’s how they did it. 

Conclusion: this movie should have been a series, or at least 2h long. Oh and they definitely should have cut at least two songs, they are fine but they took away precious time from the plot.

I see a lot of people talking about encountering therapists and counselors who treat aromanticism like it’s an emotional problem. I’ve read stories about how certain therapists will tell you than your avoidance of relationships is about fear or depression or anxiety, and that being aro isn’t “real.”

Just to offer a more optimistic story, I kinda want to tell you all about my therapist. She and I already talked about sexuality and identity a lot, since I specifically found a queer-friendly counselor at my university and spent a lot of time talking about bisexuality. When I began to question whether I was aromantic, I was still feeling very uncertain about actually using the word. 

So in a session with my therapist, I was talking about avoiding romantic relationships, and how I had gone on a date that made me feel suffocated really quickly. I was kind of trying to work my way towards mentioning aromanticism, but I felt really weird about it. She noticed. She asked me, a little hesitantly, if I visualized a future, a life, where romantic relationships would be fulfilling for me. I basically said I only really visualized living in a small house with my two cats and a dog. And she asked me about if there was identity word for that. 

She gave me an opening to talk about aromanticism, and I immediately jumped on it, telling her about how I’d been researching it, how I’d been reading about other people’s experiences, and how much it resonated with me. We spent the rest of the session discussing the cultural divide between romantic feelings and platonic feelings, and how ingrained romance is in our culture, how romance is so central to fiction and to what people see as an ideal life. I told her about the word “amatonormativity.” She asked me if learning about aromanticism felt freeing, if it took the pressure off me, because she already knew about how negatively I felt about romantic relationships when I was involved in them. It was a really, really productive session, and I felt so relieved afterwards. 

My point in all of this, my point in telling this story, is that I wanted to share a positive experience here. I get sad when I see aro people sharing their negative experiences. It’s just so disheartening, like those interactions are just a fact of being aro. But they shouldn’t be. My experience shouldn’t be unusual; it should be the default. 

Another preview from the comic that I have in the works right now. Some of you had the chance to see it being made live on stream, where we also talked a little about it. 

Gabriel’s mother’s name is not based on anything and not sure if it’s the final one or not. She was always afraid of losing Gabriel to war as she lost her husband who also served in the army. (this is all based on a headcanon I wrote and posted a while ago. It was the blast of a moment, but somehow it sticked to me.) However, she died before anything else happened to him. Her heart just couldn’t take in all the worry she had for both of them during her life. 

And since it’s out of context, I will just add he left to search for the eventually surviving members of his team, including Jack. 

More previews HERE and HERE

My first thought this morning before my feet even touched the floor was “scene in Titanic where old-Rose is wrapping things up, but it’s old-Brienne talking about Jaime.”

thanks to @agirlnamedkeith I now apparently feel the need to share these thoughts with you via The Emotional Bullet List of Emotional Emotions (rough, working title). 

  • Brienne eventually leaves the Kingsguard to take her father’s place in Tarth
  • She marries. He’s a good, kind man and she loves him. They have children, the future heirs of Tarth, and live a full & happy life. 
  • One night, when she’s old and grey, after her husband has passed on, she stays up late after her grandchildren sneak into her room to hear stories of days gone by. 
  • “Grandmum, tell us about Oathkeeper!”
  • She nods to the eldest grandson to bring her the Valyrian steel blade from across the room where its resting above the fireplace. She runs her hand over the lion on the hilt with reverence and closes her eyes. 
  • Her grandchildren have likely only heard stories up until this point - about the wars, the battle for the dawn, the seven kingdoms, the infamous Kingslayer. She tells them of a very brave knight, a man with honor, the man who saved her life and whose life she saved in return; the man who lost his hand & jumped in front of a bear for her; the man who knighted her and loved her. 
  • “And now you know there was a man named Jaime Lannister…and that he saved me. In every way that a woman can be saved - even a great beast of a woman like me,” she says with a quiet smile. 
  • She looks out into the dark, where she knows the sapphire-blue waters crash upon the shore and thinks that her heart is just as deep an ocean of memories - she had never spoken of Jaime this way until now…not even to their grandfather. 
  • Later, after the grandchildren have finally gone to bed, she slowly makes her way out to a craggy cliff overlooking the sea. She closes her eyes and breathes in the salty air and smiles and allows herself to call up memories there alone in the dark - she remembers a bed of warm furs in Winterfell, remembers Jaime telling her of the time he sailed to Dorne and how, when they passed by the island of Tarth, he could picture her face so clearly and it gave him strength. 
  • She smiles and her hand reaches up to touch the scars on her neck - barely visible now after so many years but she’s carried them with her always. Just as she’s carried him with her always; always holding him in her heart. 
  • Brienne passes away peacefully in her bed soon after. There is an afterlife, she thinks, as she begins to walk through what she realizes is snow. Her right hand moves down in a familiar way and she notices that Oathkeeper is hanging at her side as it once always did. Ahead of her, a large form begins to take shape - it looks like Winterfell, she thinks, and within a few more steps she realizes that it is. 
  • Seemingly on their own, her feet take her in the direction of the Godswood and there she sees they are waiting for her. Among the small crowd of people she notices her mother and father, Catelyn Stark, sweet Pod (he had met his untimely demise in a battle defending the king years after she had left King’s Landing); so many other familiar faces. 
  • And then there he is, under the ancient Weirwood tree, smiling that golden & genuine smile at her. Just as beautiful and perfect as she remembers. When she is within reach, he takes her his arms, wrapping two flesh hands around her waist, as though they’re the only two people there in the wood. He has been waiting for her. To tell her he’s sorry. That he’s proud of her. That he loves her. 
  • There’s kissing
  • Tears (probably mine)
  • The White Book by Ramin Djawadi swells in the background
  • goodbyyyeeeeeeeee

She’s Perfect

  “Jensen, I have to ask. How do you and Y/N have such an amazing relationship. I follow both of you on your twitters and instagrams and you’re always posting pictures of one another. How do you do it and still film nine months out of the year?” one of the interviewers asked. 

  “Yeah I guess we are, aren’t we? I chuckled, thinking back to my last instagram post, which was a throwback to when she and I were sitting in the front seat of my dad’s truck. We couldn’t have been older than five. “I have to say, our relationship has always relied on communication. She and I have rarely gone more than a few hours without talking to each other, even if it’s just to check in and that’s how it’s always been, even growing up. We talk about everything and with that comes a level of comfortability that you have and thats not something that just goes away. She lives in Vancouver with me, she works and if she’s had a good day, she’ll drop by the set and hang out with us during breaks. We just work.”

  “Sounds like you have an amazing girl by your side,” she added in.

  “I got extremely lucky with her. She’s one in a billion. I am thankful for her everyday of my life. I wouldn’t be where I am today without her. She is my biggest support and has been for my entire life, and it’s the same the other way around,” I told them, smiling wide at the thought of her. “I’m sure you guys have more questions so I should stop rambling on about my fiancee.”

ninshadow-deactivated20190716  asked:

Fluff prompts Drarry #5 and #20?

The notes were one of their most beloved traditions. It started before they were even really a thing, when they were making their first cautious approaches towards each other.

It all began with a delicately folded crane on Harry’s desk at the end of a long day.


My students wouldn’t stop talking about your Patronus lesson today - it was very frustrating, they wouldn’t listen to a word I said about Dreamless Sleep. Please be more considerate in the future.


P.S. It’s good you taught them how to cast a Patronus. Let’s just say I wish it was something we’d all been taught when we were younger.


Have you ever considered making your lessons more interesting? I can’t help it if mine are just a lot cooler than yours…


P.S. What even is your patronus? I’ve tried to guess but I just can’t figure it out.

After that the notes just kept coming, ranging from witty observations on various students, to fierce debates about the relative skill and cup hopes of the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams. Something about putting pen to paper made them feel freer than they ever did in person, when it was too easy to remember what they had been like 10 years ago, students wandering these halls rather than professors.

Over the course of the term the notes changed though, their conversations gently touching on harder, more painful topics, the distance provided by the notes allowing them to say things that would otherwise have remained hidden.

I should have apologised for what happened in the bathroom…

I did know it was you at the Manor that night…

I’m sorry you had to go through all that…

I’m sorry I didn’t fight sooner…

And then, the most surprising thing. With the awkward, horrible topics dealt with, their past mistakes forgiven, all that was left was true, genuine friendship.

The notes soon became a highlight of Harry’s day. He was constantly on the lookout for the next one, never quite knowing where Draco (for they were friends now, so he was Draco, not Malfoy) might have hidden it or what it might contain.

The first time he received one that could almost be considered flirty, he nearly spat out his drink, only narrowly avoiding spraying Professor Flitwick with pumpkin juice.

Potter, (Draco still stubbornly refused to use his first name, despite all of Harry’s protests)

You must truly be delusional if you think that your seeker is good enough to go toe to toe with Simpson. He’s good, I’ll grant you that, but he can’t keep up with our seeker in a straight chase for the snitch. She’s far too quick for him, and it’s not like she’ll have the same… distractions I had to contend with back when we were playing against each other.

But if you’re really feeling that confident, I suppose we could have a little bet on it? I have some… ideas about what we could wager.


P.S. Your keeper is even worse than Weasley. I didn’t think that was possible.

It made sense then that the notes remained an important method of communication throughout the tentative, early stages of their relationship, and then throughout the years of love, partnership, and the merging of their lives.

Whenever he was feeling sad, or was missing Draco, Harry loved to look through the notes, charting the progress of their relationship. From the first time he asked Draco out, through the passionate first year where they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and the years of living together, always finishing with the most important note he ever sent.


Overheard one of the first years talking today, telling her friend all about Snape (apparently her mum left Hogwarts just after we started). She was saying she was ready to be terrified by you, but turns out you’re a right softie. You need to get working on your image if you want to keep any authority over these students.


P.S I hear that Hannah’s started stocking that whiskey you always go on about. If you ever fancied a trip to the Leaky to test it out, I could be persuaded to join you.


Wow, way to make me feel old. How can people only a few years older than us have children old enough to go to Hogwarts? What a horrifying thought.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, the children are all terrified of me.


P.S I won’t stoop to ‘persuading’ you, but I will tell you that I plan to be at the Leaky at 8pm next Friday, with a bottle of that whiskey and two glasses.


I have to go, I’m supposed to be supervising breakfast today. Merlin only knows why it starts so early on a Saturday, aren’t teenagers supposed to like sleep?


P.S Last night was… fun. And incredible. And I wouldn’t mind a repeat sometime.

P.P.S Did you know you snore? I can’t believe you’re managing to sleep through that racket you’re making.


I know you’re being responsible and doing your job and all that boring stuff, but once you’ve finished supervising Quidditch training, come to my quarters?

I miss you, and your body, and the things you do to me.


P.S. Seriously, love, be quick. I want you.


Must you always fall asleep straight afterwards? If you wake up wondering where I am, I’ve gone to the kitchen for snacks. You’ve exhausted me, I need to replenish my energy.


P.S. So, ‘baby’ is what does it for you, huh? Interesting.


I got called back up to the castle, something about a student who’s having nightmares about Voldemort and wants to talk to me about it.

Dinner’s keeping warm in the oven - it’s your favourite.

I’ll be back in time for bed I hope. Don’t wait up though, you get too grumpy if you don’t get enough sleep - get the bed nice and warm for me.



P.S. How do I help a student with their nightmares when the only way I know to stop mine is to sleep next to you?


I hope the student is alright, although judging by how long you’ve been gone it doesn’t seem like they are.

Dinner was delicious, thank you.

You can talk, you’re always in the worst mood if you get woken up too early.

Warm up your own bed, and don’t you dare come in and put your cold toes on me when I’m already sleeping.



P.S I’m asleep, so please try not to make a horrible noise when you get in. Remember the squeaky stair.


I hope you’ve had a good day, love, and that the 6th year class wasn’t as bad as you were expecting.

I’ve booked us a table at your favourite restaurant for 8 o’clock.

Come and meet me there? I’ve got a question I need to ask you.

I love you with all my heart,


P.S I called ahead and checked, they’ve put the tart you liked best back on the menu. Obviously your strongly worded letter did the trick. See you soon, my love.

Thank you for such a great prompt! I really enjoyed writing this 😊 Thank you @keyflight790 ​ for beta’ing ❤️

Also on AO3


The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, New York, January 16, 1924 and April 21, 1924

You - dirty - fish - peddling - bums

leave - this - innocent - girl - alone - and - get - the - right - ones - which - is -nobody - else - but - us - 

also - ask - Bohaks (sp) - manager - did - I - ruin - his - cash - register - also - will - visit - him - again - as - I - broke - a - pefectly (sp)- good - automatic - on - it 

we - defy - you  - fellows - to - catch - us

the bobbed - haired bandit and companion 

20-years-old and pregnant, Celia Cooney (nee Roth, aliases Cecile Cherisa and Celia Sheehan, born on the east side in 1904), the Brooklyn Bobbed-Haired Bandit, and her husband Edward, 25, pulled off roughly a dozen successful robberies in early 1924, between January and their arrest on April 21st. The couple used the same method invariably, with Celia, usually sporting a sealskin coat over a beaded dress, coming in first and asking a question of the shop keeper, and Edward coming in shortly after with a gun drawn in each hand. Victims of the pair claimed the woman was calm and collected while she pointed her baby automatic at them and told them to “stick ‘em up.” The couple would then rifle through the cash register and leave, taking only cash. Edward would borrow various vehicles from his work for getaway cars. Over 150 officers were called in to work the case, while the Mayor claimed that there was no such thing as a “bobbed haired bandit” - she was a figment of the media’s imagination. In March one of their drugstore robberies took place while a policeman’s ball was in full swing right across the street. At almost every scene Celia would drop another jeering note for the police, one read:

“I’ll kill you off one by one if you start out after me. So long boys; don’t forget you will hear from me during the week.”

And another read:

“I regret that I have not had the opportunity of giving you anything to do for the last few days. I have been taking a little vacation. However, I am now back on the job and you will hear from me regularly. I understand there is a new inspector assigned to Brooklyn. It doesn’t make any difference to me. Also I hear that the police have orders to shoot and kill me on sight. That’s all right but the police will not be the only ones to shoot.”

Celia’s landlady, who rented a room to the couple from April 1923 until September the same year, told papers Celia was “hard boiled”, a “wicked woman” and a “filthy tenant” who was “Bad, bad, bad!”. She claimed that Celia would “run around the house nearly naked and barefooted - go to the door that way - and such swearing I never heard in my life. She wasn’t a woman at all, at all - she was a she devil.”

Celia’s employer at a laundry said that she “was short and slender and dark complexioned. She was always prompt in getting to work and a good worker. She went out to lunch and noon and never chummed with any of the other girls, so far as I noticed. Finding out that she is the bobbed-haired bandit is some surprise to me - a knockout.”

Edward’s mother claimed that Edward, a welder for an auto repair shop by profession, would come to her house every morning for coffee before work and while there “We talked about the bobbed-haired bandit and he joked about her and said she was ‘pretty slick’.” Then one day Edward told his mother that he and Celia had to “go away for a time” but they’d be back to vindicate themselves.

Their final robbery, that of a Nabisco office that abutted the property where Edward’s mother lived, went awry when the money Edward expected to be out on a desk, where it usually was, was unexpectedly locked away. Edward had seen, through the back windows of his mother’s home, the money sitting out every week in large stacks on a desk when he stopped by his mother’s home before work. After ordering all the employees to line up against the wall, he and Cecilia turned to look for the cash and couldn’t find it. He lost his head when one of the employees tried to grab Celia’s gun and shot the man, Celia dropped a notebook and they fled without any money. This was the only time the couple ever physically hurt a victim.

Detectives claimed this was another major blunder: they committed this crime in the neighborhood in which they lived. Previous to this, all crimes had been in other jurisdictions.

The couple went on the lam, leading the police on a chase through 13 states before their capture by the detectives in Jacksonville, Florida after Edward sent a telegraph home to his mother, asking for money to bury the baby, a girl named Katherine who lived only 10 days. A short standoff ended when Celia promised the detectives she wouldn’t shoot if they wouldn’t. She claimed that Edward wanted to shoot her and himself rather than be taken into captivity but she told with a smile that “we couldn’t quit that way.” Both claimed that they were the one who had shot the clerk at Nabisco, and both claimed they were the mastermind behind the crimes. Thousands stood in Penn Street Station to finally catch a glimpse of the Bobbed-Haired Bandit.

The couple received sentences of 10 to 20 years, the maximum sentence, in and were released after 7 years, the minimum, in 1931. Celia told the judge that she didn’t want her baby to be born in squalor when she pleaded guilty. The state claimed the couple committed at least 15 crimes while the couple admitted to 10. Celia served her sentence at Auburn Prison and Edward at Sing Sing. While in jail Edward lost part of an arm when working a license plate printing machine and received a $12,000 settlement. During the suit against the State, where Celia testified on Edward’s behalf, the couple saw each other for the only time during their 7 year imprisonment. Celia’s brother Owen was shot while robbing a jewelry shop in 1927. After their release the couple had two sons, but Edward died of tuberculosis in 1936. As a single mother, Celia raised their sons in Queens and had to take welfare benefits, but for the rest of her life she stayed on the right side of the law. Celia passed away in Florida in 1992.

A few interesting sidenotes: 

A lot of transgender ladies were brought in on suspicion that the bandit could not possibly be a “real” woman.

F Scott Fitzgerald claimed his wife Zelda was stopped and questioned one night by police who suspected she might be the bandit.

Some psychologists posited that Celia’s pregnant state may have been the driving force behind her robberies - because her hormones were out of whack.

In September 1924 a New York producer introduced a burlesque show called the Bobbed-Hair Bandits, which featured “18 of New York’s most beautiful girls” - what, if anything, this show had to do with bandits the notice didn’t really explain, although it claimed there were beautiful costumes!

Youtube Channel Headcanons


  • Prank channel. 
  • A lot of pranks on Roadhog and most videos end with him running from Roadhog’s rage.
  • There has been more than one video of him and sometimes Roadhog running from the cops after a prank gone wrong.
  • Runs a side channel where he sets things on fire


  • Satisfying slime/asmr channel and anxiety help channel
  • Makes all kinds of slimes, cuts open stress balls, makes asmr videos, and regular videos to teach others how to live with disorders and constant negative overstimulation.
  • Gets a lot of tearful letters talking about how her videos help people cope. They make her smile. It’s why she does it.


  • DIY and Home and Garden channel. 
  • Makes a lot of videos about household projects and refurbishing.  
  • Total Wine Mom™. She’s known for having a glass of wine while she works.
  • Has a website where she sells all of the things that she makes in her videos. It’s doing really well.


  • Science/conspiracy channel
  • A lot of the time he’s less science-y and more Charlie Kelly looking for Pepe Silvia. Those videos get the most views.
  • His science videos always leave you thinking about the world and seeing everything in a new light.


  • Cooking Channel
  • He’s so sweet and happy. He loves making cute desserts and encouraging people to try new cooking methods. Genji’s often his taste tester.
  • His apron is frilly and bright blue. Most of the comments are about how cute he is floating around the room cooking.
  • Has a colorful cookbook coming out soon.

(Requests are Open!!!)

reasons to be suspicious of toby

  • he’s the one who fixed up mc’s car 
  • when she leaves, toby’s the one (correct me if im wrong) who’s says ‘what about your car?’ 
  • mc leaves the place saying she wants nothing to do with them. she’s out. 
  • the crew already has what they wanted fm her–info on her dad. her dad is no longer working the case. she is of no use to them. 
  • why would toby need her? what use is she to them now? the crew doesn’t need a moral compass. 
  • why does toby know where riya lives unless he, the person who worked on her car countless times, put a tracker on it? 
  • i doubt mona or colt would have any need to say ‘hey i dropped mc off at her friends’ place, this is the address. anyway lets talk about this box we took fm the stadium’

we cant trust anybody, unfortunately. 


Me and my mothers portraits will forever be my fave this year , a collaborative work bet me and my friend Tony Krash , the idea came of creating a family photo me and my mom never had , when i describe my mom to people I speak in gold and when I talk about our relationship a lot of people say “ wow you lucky to have a mom like that “ the thing is that me and my mom never had the best relationship it took so much work, anger, sadness to get where we are, her understanding of me being queer To really accepting my life and understanding both of our struggles. My mom def taught me a lot about the glam not cuz we were wealthy we were poor living in the hood but she had her ways into always doing herself up looking like she had money when reality it was just her making herself feel good she found happiness through that she always told me “ fake it till you make it mijo “ and that forever stuck with me. I was able to embrace her femininity and power. She was raised very tejana from the border I was raised by my dad very norteño desde Tamaulipas MX … I embraced both and made it me… a hood queer paisa

“it’s okay.”

after this scene, i began to imagine jake and amy’s conversations. especially now that theyre living together (i need the domestic scenez, where they at), it’s pretty unavoidable to lay awake at night and expose oneself to their partner: jake talking to amy about pretty much growing up own his own (roger being an ass and karen working hard to get by) but with the magical presence of gina (that he’s very thankful for) and then amy talking to jake about how she had to fight for a seat in the table, how she still loves her seven brothers even if they made her life a little bit more difficult than necessary. i can imagine them talking about their own personal realizations or epiphanies, their understanding of the whys in hushed voices, like no one else is supposed to hear them. and after that scary exposure of one’s vulnerabilities, they could only hold each other in relief, admiration and gratefulness that theyre no longer doing things alone. they dont have to anymore.

so when amy held jake in this scene and told him it’s okay, i know she’s telling the truth because it really is okay for her that he grew up with cake and tv as his parents. because it made jake, jake. and i feel like she wouldnt have it any other way.

there’s something so beautiful, so magical about online friendships
she tells me about the weather where she lives, and it’s so different from how it is where i am that i have to tell her about mine
we experience such different days but through screenshots and texts, i’m brought into a world unlike my own – yet one that already feels so familiar
we talk about our days at work, name dropping as if the other understands exactly who we’re talking about
we describe our towns in detail, painting pictures to bring them here until we can actually bring them here
they tell me about places i’ve never been but are determined to bring me to
we make plans – when we’ll meet, what we’ll do, tattoos we’ll get, photos we’ll take, shows we’ll watch
we’re connected by screens but separated by miles
and none of that matters
because they know exactly what to say when i’m having a bad day better than anyone i know in real life
because after years of conversation, we no longer greet each other with “hellos” but rather sending a picture that we know will make the others scream in delight
(we have a language all our own)
more often than not, my mom will ask me why i’m laughing so loud alone in my room
and i just look at my computer screen and smile
because i didn’t really feel alone, not with them behind the blueish glow

(cc, 2018)

Save Tonight: Chapter 9 - “Memory Of a Kiss ”

a/n: Happy Thursday! Sorry I took a wee hiatus last week for this story, I wanted this chapter to be the best it could be and I have @lburks226 to thanks for helping me with that! (Plus my darlings @curlsgetdemgurls @suzannevvale & @sassenachwriter who probably love this story even more than they love me but that’s fine) 

Like I said in the first chapter, Claire was inspired by the photographer Lee Miller and the self portrait mentionned today can be seen here 
Thank you for reading, I hope you’ll like it! <3 

Claire had never been anxious by nature. As a child, she wasn’t afraid of the dark or of the monsters under her bed. She wasn’t afraid to sleep under the stars in the middle of the Sahara Desert, or inside a pyramid, surrounded by centuries-old relics. Growing up, she wasn’t even afraid of death. After her parents’ accident, she had quickly understood that it was simply another part of life. A part no one could avoid; thus, she might as well get used to the idea. She didn’t recall being afraid even during the war. Not until she met Jamie, anyway.

However, tonight, she was terrified. A nervous feeling groping her gut. A cold rush of panic creeping up the back of her neck.

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anonymous asked:

128 + mileven for the drabble challenge

#128 “don’t touch me, we’re fighting”

This is the longest she hasn’t spoken to Mike in almost three years. Because before this, they’d been a force completely inseparable, nothing, not a single thing in the goddamn universe could keep them apart, not a dimension full of monsters, not a corrupt government rotting in conspiracies. Nothing. Except this.

It’s been fifteen hours since they’ve said anything to each other, an impressive record given they live in a one bedroom apartment in a small town outside the university. She wanders the length of their tiny kitchen, just an oven and two burners for a stove, a mini fridge with a freezer stuffed with Eggo’s and junk food. There’s no dishwasher. They’ve spent hours at the sink that’s too small even for their amazing lack of dishes, talking endlessly about their day: their jobs that don’t pay enough, their classes that work them too hard, their future that they’ve planned to the last detail from where they’ll live together, who’ll they’ll be, together, down to the ring on her finger that she twists as she walks the cold tiles, up and down, pacing in a way that would drive him crazy. But this time he’s not even looking. He’s not even here.

Their fights are chaotic masterpieces. She hates every single one, rare as they are, they tear her and break her into a million pieces, because each time there’s this wall with him she can’t quite take down. He’s loud, giving into his raging temper, and she breaks things, no other way to communicate her anger. The yell and throw words like knives at each other, storming out of rooms, slamming the door to bedroom, the apartment, running off until the other catches them breaking down in tears. And they just fall into each other, whispering “I’m sorry” into shoulders, and then they talk. They fix the faulty communication, and they fix the things they break. Always.

El’s not sure she can stand the quiet of the apartment without him here. She wants the yelling, the screaming, breaking things. Not the silence of nothing. It’s consuming her, a painful throbbing reminder of the actions she cannot take back. Angry at the story’s background characters, when she’s the one to blame. And everytime she closes her eyes she see him again, the look of betrayal in his eyes and shock on his face, as he backs away from her outstretched hands, only saying one thing.

“Don’t touch me.”

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angeloaktree  asked:

Hello lovely! Just wanted to say that your imagines are beyond wonderful! I constantly read them through out the day and I wish I could write as good as you. I have a request if you don't mind. Can you write one where Betty somehow meets Jughead's father (you can come up with the scenario, if you want) and later Jughead finds out then panics, because he's worried that Betty's opinion about him will change since he's dad is a serpent. Thank you kindly and keep up the good work!!

Thankyou so much! I can’t tell you must I appreciate that!

Jughead pulled his heavy bag along the dirt, the trailer park was quiet at this time, everyone who lived here was usually sleeping or doing something illegal. He had just started living here, his dad and him were repairing their relationship, it was definitely a slow road but they were making progress.

Spotting his home in the distance, he lifted his bag. Suddenly a very familiar blonde ponytail was walking out the front door of his trailer, followed closely by his father.

“What the hell?” He was quick to duck behind a post, what was betty doing at his place? And why was she having a conversation with his father.

He was ready to jump in and Save her from whatever uncomfortable situation his father had gotten her mixed up in, when he noticed the pair laughing and smiling. His dad placed a hand on Betty’s shoulder and jughead could make out the words

“Thank you Betty, I really appreciate it.”

Betty nodded

“I’m doing this for Jughead. Don’t mess it up.” He could tell she was trying to be intimidating, but she just looked out of place. Her perfectly pressed light blue shirt, white tank top and pastel pink cardigan stuck out amongst the junkyard of dirt and trash.

“I won’t. You’re a good friend , girl.”

She blushed

“I better get home before Jughead shows up. So I’ll see you Saturday? Bright and early?”

He nodded as Betty walked down the step

“I’ll be there at 7:30 on the dot.”

She put her thumbs up and walked away smiling at his father as she left.

Leaning farther against the post as Betty walked past, he quickly slipped behind her, heading towards his house more angry than he had been in a long time.

Slamming the front door shut, he stood in front of his father, eyes narrowed as his bag hit the floor with a loud


His dad looked up from the paper he was reading “hey jug. How was school?”

Cutting to the chase

“Why was Betty here?”

His fathers eyes widened

“How did you..?”

“Oh please, like I wouldn’t see her, she doesn’t belong here dad. She doesn’t belong talking to you. And whatever mess you’ve gotten her in. I want her out of it. Now.” Jughead was fuming and his authoritative voice was loud

“Calm down Forsythe. Betty’s not in any mess. And if she was I have a feeling that girl can get herself out of any problem. She’s a good girl.”

Jughead slammed his hands on the table

“Yeah she is, exactly why I don’t want you talking to her. I don’t want her here. Why was she here?!”

“She was here to help me out.” His father said an underlying hint of embarrassment lacing his words

“What? What kind of help?”

“She got me a job Jughead. I’m gonna be working at her fathers mechanic shop. He needed someone to fix the motorcycles and Betty told him about me. It’s a real job, with benefits and everything.” It was obvious he was excited and jughead felt his shoulders lose all that tension he had been holding

“How did she know where we live?”

Jugheads dad shook his head, smiling slightly

“Come on boy, I didn’t raise you to be that oblivious did I? The girls got it bad for you. She was worried. She followed you home, found out who I was and didn’t give it a second thought. Just found a way to help. You can do much worse son. Much worse.”

Quickly jughead was out the door, heading towards Betty’s house, running faster than he thought possible.

Panting and out of breath he knocked on the door, leaning over and placing his hands to his knees.

Lifting his head at the sound of the opening door, his eyes caught Betty’s bright green ones, her normal tight pony tail was replaced by a messy bun on the top of her head.

“Juggie? Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

He had her in his arms in seconds flat. Lips on hers, delicious taste of strawberry lipgloss filling his mouth.

She squeaked in surprise but quickly adjusted, moving tighter into him and attacking his mouth with equal vigor.

He pulled away, hands still tight on her waist

“Oh” she whispered

“Betty Cooper, you really are something else.”

Bear the Storm

Requested by Anonymous 122: “Just relax, I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Elriel - gets a little angsty but also plenty of fluff

An overcast day in the Night Court is a dreary day indeed. Funnily enough, as Elain has observed, it usually falls on days when Feyre and Rhys are away. Today is one of those days, her whole family off on a meeting in the mortal realms. Azriel drew the short straw this time and has to stay to watch over the city. And her.

Elain doesn’t exceptionally mind the babysitter per se, just believes it’s unnecessary. It has been months since her last break down, and it wasn’t even serious that time, simply triggered by a nightmare in the middle of the night that had gone away quite easily. She felt she was doing much better all things considered. Though she loves her sisters for caring so much.

The garden is soggy from last night’s rain but it doesn’t stop Elain from getting down on her hands and knees to weed and tend to her growing plot of plants, her own little paradise in this odd place she’s forced to call home. Thankfully, she does not feel eyes watching her every move, as some babysitters do. Azriel has the decency to give her privacy, though is always available at a moments notice if she ever needs anything.

Her eyes shift to the window of the family room where she knows he is sitting, working through paperwork and trying to deal with the tasks Rhys puts him up to, though he never talks about them to her. In the year that Elain has lived in the Night Court, the year after the War against Hybern, Azriel has become her confidant, a friend when she needs it the most, second only to Nesta. However, while he’s become one of her closest companions, she often doubts whether he even considers them friends.

It is that thought which she is pondering when Elain feels the first drop of rain hit her cheek. She looks up at the sky and her mind twists, her eyesight recedes until she knows she is no longer seeing the present, but the future. Mud and pelting rain and wet hair and shadows creep through her vision. She watches in slow motion as the clouds grow darker and thunder rumbles through them at the same moment lightning strikes the other side of her garden and sets that half of it on fire.

Snapped back into her body before she can so much as react, Elain can’t find her voice to cry for help. She is utterly incapable to doing anything as she watches once again, in real time that takes less than two seconds, her vision come true. She stumbles back and flames erupt in front of her but the rain is not far behind.

Buckets of water pound down upon her and she finally finds her voice as she screams and falls to the ground in a lump of limbs. The left side of her face is pressed into the mud and she grips her hair. Elain can feel it coming, but before she’s even contemplated what it might mean, the dam she had built up in her mind this past year to keep the desolating feelings at bay, comes crashing down.

It’s one of the biggest panic attacks she’s had since she was thrown into that cauldron, second only to the one two days after the death of her father.

Elain screams again, looking up to see the rain has extinguished the fire but has left nothing in it’s place. Smoldering ash that used to be beautiful, healthy plants, crumbles and sinks to mix in with the mud. She stumbles into a standing position, her hands, arms, knees, and face covered in mud and tugs fiercely on her hair, trying to stay in her own mind.

She tries to go to that burned half of her garden but the pain in her chest is piercing, the pounding in her head relentless. Elain makes it halfway there when two strong arms wrap firmly around her middle and pull her against a solid chest. In her haze, Elain looks down and recognizes the hands around her middle, scarred in more than a dozen places on each but holding her tightly as if she’s the only thing that matters.


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