terry you are back

Sleep tight

“This is ridiculous!”

For once in his life, Harry heartily agreed with Malfoy. This really was ridiculous. What was Dumbledore thinking? True, things had gone a bit out of hand after the last Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin but that didn’t justify… this!

“How am I supposed to concentrate on my O.W.L.s when I have to put up with a bunch of pillocks?!”

“Stop complaining, Malfoy. It won’t change anything,” Terry Boot called from across the dorm. Their newly shared dorm. One student from each house, that was the new rule. Dumbledore had announced it two weeks ago and Harry’s only consolation was that he was still in Gryffindor tower, in his own bed, while the other Gryffindors had moved into other dorms.

Harry still wasn’t convinced this would do anything for house unity. So far, Malfoy had picked a fight with Terry every time they were in the same room and he had even tried to hex Justin Finch-Fletchley once. As much as it annoyed Harry, at least it diverted Malfoy’s attention away from him. He really wasn’t in the mood to fight. He missed Ron. Seeing him in classes but not sharing a dorm just wasn’t the same.

“Potter! Get your filthy Quidditch robes away from my bed,” Malfoy growled, nudging the red and gold robes on the floor with his foot. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Will you relax? They’re nowhere near your bed,” Harry said exasperatedly.

“They are on my side of the room. Have you forgotten everything I told you about boundaries?” Malfoy fumed, drawing an invisible line between their beds with his hand, as he had done on their first day as dormmates.

Harry heard Terry snort.

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that”? Malfoy whirled around and gave Terry a dangerous look. Harry expected them to have another shouting match but Terry just shook his head and waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“If you have something to say, just say it!” Malfoy approached Terry, his hands on his hips.

“You of all people do not want me to say this out loud, believe me,” Terry said unblinking. Malfoy scrutinised him and Harry noticed a strange expression flicker across his face. “Unless you want to explain why these boundaries don’t seem to apply to you. Especially-”

“Are you trying to blackmail me? With something that you clearly imagined?” Malfoy interrupted him. His body was rigid and his face was inches away from Terry’s. The Ravenclaw smirked, his eyes darting over to Harry and then back to Malfoy.

“You know, Malfoy,” Terry said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, a smug expression on his face. “I always suspected you’d feel right at home in the Gryffindor dorms but I had no idea you’d get that cosy.”

Harry reacted on instinct when he saw Malfoy draw his wand. He grabbed his own from the nightstand and pointed it at Malfoy.

“Expelliarmus,” he yelled. Malfoy’s wand flew across the room and Harry caught it with his free hand. “Seriously, Malfoy? What is wrong with you?” Harry watched as Malfoy’s shoulders slightly slumped. Without another word he stormed out of the dorm, slamming the door behind him.

“What was that all about?” Harry murmured. He gave Terry a puzzled look. The Ravenclaw just sighed.

“Honestly, I don’t want to get in the middle of this, but Malfoy just… ugh!” Terry stomped his foot once and shook his head. “It’s really between the two of you.”

“The two of us?” Harry couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he and Malfoy could be referred to as ‘the two of you’. All he and Malfoy ever did was fight. Or ignore each other. Well, pretend to ignore each other would probably be more accurate.

“I really don’t want to be hexed in my sleep,” Terry groaned. “But… maybe try to be a bit more alert tonight, Harry. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, completely at loss.

“Okay,” he mumbled, wondering what on earth Terry was on about.


Draco sighed as he leaned his head against Harry’s nightstand. It really wasn’t fair. He watched as Harry’s chest rose and fell steadily, his face looking softer than ever in the moonlight. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Slowly, his fingers rose to Harry’s forehead to brush his bangs out of his face. He looked so peaceful.

It really wasn’t Draco’s fault he stayed up night after night to watch Harry sleep like a total creep. The first time it had happened, Draco had been wakened by a soft whimper. Investigating it further, he had seen Harry all sweaty and thrashing in his bed. Draco had intended to wake him, but as soon as he had leaned down, Harry had grabbed him and had pulled him down.

At first, Draco hadn’t been sure if Harry was awake or still asleep. He had gone very still when Harry had clutched at him until he had finally wrapped him in his arms and had almost strangled Draco. His face had been pressed against Harry’s chest, the Gryffindor’s heartbeat drumming against his cheek. It had been the most amazing thing Draco had ever felt.

He hadn’t dared to fall asleep that night. Seeing as Harry had finally calmed down with Draco in his arms, Draco had supposed it would be better to stay there until dawn. With Harry being restless in the bed beside him, he wouldn’t have gotten much sleep anyway.

After that, Draco had made a habit of watching Harry sleep. His touch seemed to calm the Gryffindor whenever he seemed to have a bad dream. But he hadn’t pulled Draco into his bed again. Draco didn’t want to admit to himself that he was secretly waiting for it to happen once more but he found himself leaning closer to his so-called enemy with every passing night.

As his fingers continued to stroke the soft curls, he frowned. No, Harry wasn’t his enemy at night. During the day, Draco kept up his snarky attitude and his animosity. But at night, there was no need for that. At night, he could simply stare at the boy who made his heart beat faster, who made his scalp prickle and who was responsible for the smile Draco had to hide once dawn was breaking.

Sometimes, Draco wished he didn’t have to hide it, could show it openly and let the stupid git know.

It really wasn’t fair.


Harry held his breath when he felt Malfoy’s fingers brush his ear. His heartbeat picked up instantly and he was pretty sure he was blushing. His cheeks suddenly felt really hot, as did the rest of his body.

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anglophiledalek  asked:

Dear Neil, this is not so much a question as a thank you. I just watched "Terry Pratchett - Back in Black" on BBC 2. Towards the end, there was a part of an interview with you in which you cried. This broke, or rather unlocked, something in me and made me break down and cry for a long time. Some of my tears were related to the subject, some to everything else going on in my life. I hadn't cried in a long time. It was very helpful and a relief. It might sound weird, but thanks for your tears <3

It was strange, and unexpected, breaking down in an interview in an empty Chinese restaurant early one morning: I think it was because the night before it had been Terry’s public memorial, and now it was private, and I was talking about my friend, not about the public persona. At the end of the interview, Charlie, the director/interviewer said “I’ve never said this before to someone I’m interviewing, but would you like a hug?” and I said I would.

“Well, at least that bit won’t be on TV,” I thought. “It would be too embarrassing if it was.”

But it seems to have let other people cry too, for Terry and for what they needed to cry about, and for that I’m grateful. So you are very welcome.

Reading Discworld from early age shaped me as a human being… Made my view on literature and also everything else..But..I also cant find literature better or similar to it.. although stories by China Mieville, Jaroslav Hašek, Douglas Adams, Daniel Handler and Andrzej Sapkowski are close…. I sometimes feel like reading discworlds is something I was supposed to find after reading allllll the other books..work my way to it… I dont know.. 

Discworld began as an antidote to fantasy. There are so many cliches in the view of fairy tales with the wizards and witches, and so forth, and it would be fun to treat them as if they were real life.  Discworld had a condom factory and why not?  You couldn’t do that in Middle Earth. You couldn’t even THINK about doing it in Narnia.
—  Terry Pratchett: Back in Black
“You know I don’t care.”

It was a Friday night in November, and the Foxes were at an away game. They lost, 7-4. But it was against the Trojans, so they weren’t too upset.

At the end of the game, Kevin and Jeremy shook hands and gave each other a slap on the back, Dan got a bear-hug from the walking sunshine, and Jean shook Kevin’s hand, after a nod of acknowledgement was shared between him and Neil. Andrew stayed near the rear of the group, not caring for the contact or reassurance.

When they walked off the court, no one paid any attention to the people in the audience; they were loud, and a blur of faces and bodies. And so nobody noticed the woman with blonde hair sitting four rows back.

When the Foxes all got onto the bus and Wymack pulled away, none of them noticed the woman getting into the small silver car and following a few cars behind. Why would they? Lots of people were behind the bus, leaving the game and heading wherever they were heading.


A while later, the bus had gotten back to the stadium, and the Foxes were making their way across the car park towards Fox Tower. None of them had noticed the little silver car parked on the furthest corner, and nobody saw the small woman watching them.

Andrew and Neil were bringing up the rear of the group. Aaron and Nicky were in front of them, and Kevin was wedged between the two pairs. When Andrew followed Neil through the door, the woman got out of her car and made her way across the dark lot towards the Tower, then up the stairs where the Foxes’ voices were echoing in the stairwell. She didn’t notice Andrew and Neil heading up to the roof; they were practically silent. Insead, stopped on the second floor and pushed that door open. Most of the Foxes had gone into the girls’ room, and so the door wa ajar. The woman could hear Nickys voice, and so guessed everyone was in there.

She knocked on the slightly open door, and Nicky opened it to her, an easy grin on his face.

“Yeah can I help you?” he asked. The woman was blonde, her hair in ringlets and she had a very motherly air to her. Nicky didn’t sense anything off about her. Why would he?

“I know this is out of the blue,” she began. Her voice was warm and gentle, like cupcakes. “But I really need to see Andrew.”

Nicky’s grin faltered and his brow creased.

“You know Andrew?” he asked, slightly cautious now.

At that moment, Aaron walked towards the door. The woman gasped when she saw him and automatically reached towards him.

“Andrew, I -”

Aaron groaned.

“I’m so sorry about everything -”

“Wrong twin, lady,” Aaron grumbled as he walked out of the girls’ room and towards his which he shared with Matt.

Now Nicky and Kevin were both looking at the woman, and Dan was staying close to the door with Matt to listen.

“Uhm,” Nicky said. “Yeah that was the wrong twin. Andrew isn’t here.”
The woman frowned. “But there were two - both of them came up here. He must be here.”
“How do you know him?” Kevin asked before Nicky could reply. The woman lowered her gaze.

“I uh knew him when he was younger.”

This made Nicky and Kevin look at each other. Renee was peering over Allison’s shoulder from their place on the sofa.

“I think you should leave,” Kevin said slowly. “I know you haven’t said who you are and please don’t - we’re terrible at lying to Andrew. But if you’re who I think you are, you should leave before Andrew gets back.”

“Gets back?” the woman asked. “When will he be back?”

Aaron walked back to the girls’ dorm, a movie in his hand.

“Look,” the woman tried. “I know Andrew must have told you all sorts of stories about me and my husband and our son but I promise they’re not true.”

This got Aaron’s attention and he looked up at her.

“Wait,” he said to Nicky and Kevin who were both about to speak. He looked at the woman, took in her long hair, those dark eyes, that undeniable motherly air, her warm smell which was almost like cookies…

“Crap,” he said. Quickly, he looked down the hall, towards the stairwell. The woman followed his gaze.

“I have to see him,” she insisted. “I have to see my boy-”
“He isn’t your boy,” Aaron cut in sharply. “Now I want you to listen to me very carefully. Turn around, walk back out of here, get back in your car and go back to wherever it is you and your husband live. Get out of here before my brother gets back.”

“But I-”

At that moment, the stairwell door opened and two bodies walked through it. One was Neil, the other Andrew. Andrew was walking in front of Neil, but was walking backwards. HIs entire stance and step was laxidazy. He looked so relaxed. Neil was laughing, his voice echoing down the hallway.Even if the pair weren’t his favourite people, Aaron knew it was better for them not to see the woman - if she was who they thought she was, who knew what that pair would do if they saw her.

“I’m so sorry,” Aaron said loudly to cover the woman’s voice. “But Terry doesn’t live here. You must have the wrong bulding.” He turned to Nicky and Kevin, who were both still in the doorway. “I’ve never even heard of a Terry, have you?”

“No,” Nicky said.
Aaron turned back to the blonde woman, keeping the approaching pair in his peripheral vision. They were gettting closer. Andrew would turn around at any moment.

“So I trust you can make your own way back down, or would you like some help fidning your way?” Aaron asked. By now, Neil had noticed his tone and the woman and was looking between the pair, a confused look on his face.

The woman opened her outh and Nicky piped up.

“Neil, an I borrow your textbook?” he asked loudly, quickly pushing his way out the door and moving in front of the woman. Matt had caught on by now, and moved to stand in front of her too, just behind Nicky.

“Yeah,” the bulky man said. “And can I get some of your food?”

Aaron groaned. Neil looked at them all, perplexed. By now the pair had stoped outside their own dorm, and Andrew was turning. He glanced at Matt and Nicky, bored looking. But he heard Aaron groan and mutter, so he looked around them for his brother. Matt and Nicky tried to block his view, since Aaron was right beside the woman, but of course that only made him slightly interested.

“Just let me see him!” tthe woman said loudly.

Andrew froze.

Nicky and Matt winced.

Aaron’s heart skipped.

Neil loked to Andrew, instantly seeing the difference in him.

“‘Drew?” he asked quietly. But Andrew ignored him.

“Move,” the small blonde man said flatly. Nicky and Matt looked at each other, but  moved out of the way. The woman looked at Andrew, who was still frozen next to Neil.

“Andrew,” she sighed.Before anyone could stop her, she ha moved to just a few steps in front of Andrew. “Sweetheart…” She trailed off, and ran her hand through his blonde hair. “It’s so good to se you agian you have no idea.”

Anrew didn’t say  anything, didn’t move, didn’t do anything but stay pefectly still, his expression frozen as if he were concentrting really hard.

“I’m so sorry,” she began. “For everything. And for not belie-”

Andrew pulled away, his face contorting into a manic grin which made Kevin, Nicky, Matt and Aaron alll freeze.

“Oh Cass,” he said. Neil looked sharply at tthe woman, instantly at Andrew’s side instead of behind him. “You know I don’t care.”

She stared at him.

“But I-”
He pulled her hand from his hair, dropping it as if she had burned him.

“Get out,” he said, grin still in place. “Now.”
“Darling, I-”
“Don’t. I don’t care. I did, and look where it got me. You were never my mother, and you were never going to be. Now leave. Again. I never want to see you again.”

By now the woman was crying. Andrew leveled a glare on her.

“I hate you,” he said clearly. “Almost more than I hate him. You should remember I don’t repeat myself, so don’t make one of them have to show you the way  out.”

With that, he walked owards Aaron and Nicky, grabbing them both and Kevin, shoving them all roughly into the monsters’ dorm.

“Neil,” he called, his tone sarcastic and full of fake joy.

Neil followed him into the room, shutting the door behind him, bolting it after a second. By the time he turned back around, Andrew had sank onto the floor and pulled Aaron with him. He reached out, running his fingers through his twin’s hair, across his temple.

“Did she hurt you?” he wanted to know. Aaron shook his head.

“No,” he said. “She didn’t touch me.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Andrew said flatly. He was still grinning.

“She didn’t hurt me,” Aaron assured his twin. “I promise.”

Andrew nodded, hand still running over Aarons’ temple. No one in the room moved to separate them. Actually no one in the room moved at all. Nicky and Kevin were frozen in the corner, and Neil was still leaning against the locked door.

That night, the boys all fell asleep on the floor, Neil closest to Andrew, who was still curled up near his twin, back against one of the beanbags.

Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.
—  Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

Most civilized put down I have ever read!
Sherwin Dillar really put Virginia’s Governor in his place

Subject: A letter to the Virginia Governor

An Open Letter to Virginia Governor Terry McAuliffe

I was born in Los Angeles, California and raised in Ohio. I have taught Political Science at the collegiate level in Cincinnati, been published in The Wall Street Journal and am in my 12th year of research for a forthcoming book on Columbine.
For the past seven years I have made Rockbridge County, Virginia, my home.
The one and only reason I live in Lexington, Virginia is, because it is the final resting place of Robert E. Lee and Thomas J. Jackson. Their lives, character, faith, integrity, honor and testimony shone so brightly a century and a half after their decease, that there is no other place on the Earth I want to be, but where they lived and served.
There is something deeply and morally wrong with anyone, who objects to these two great Virginians—great Americans being honored by the native State, for which they gave their lives, limbs and blood in selfless patriotic service.
President Dwight D. Eisenhower kept Lee’s portrait in his executive office, while president. Churchill extolled him as the greatest American. Ulysses S. Grant threatened to resign from the U.S. Army, if Lee were tried for treason.
The statue that marks the grave of “Stonewall” Jackson was paid for not only by the veterans, who served under him, but by financial contributions from former slaves, whom he had taught to read in violation of Virginia law.
When a Lexington local assailed Jackson for breaking the law to “teach those people”, Jackson uncharacteristically lost his temper and shouted, “If you were a Christian you would not say so!”
After the war, it was Lee who broke social convention at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, by kneeling beside a former slave, who had mortified the White congregation by kneeling at the altar.
Asked afterward by a bigot why a man like himself would kneel beside a former slave, Lee simply chastised him, “The ground is always level at the foot of the cross.”
The anniversary of the deaths of Lee and of Jackson were long commemorated in this Commonwealth by veterans of the North, who were often the honored keynote speakers invited to praise the virtues of their once-foes.
Every monument to a Confederate Virginian is a war memorial to an American veteran.
It has been the mark of manhood and civility and longstanding American tradition to leave politics out of the way we honor our veterans. They fought the battles; we did not. They shed the blood; we did not. They reconciled with their enemies; we did not.
End of subject. It is not for children born a hundred and fifty years later to re-adjudicate the past and expose to double jeopardy men their own contemporaries exonerated.
It is the height of arrogance to suppose that you know more about these men and their times than their even contemporaries. The command of God remains, “Remove not the ancient landmark, which thy fathers have set.”
It is to God you will assuredly answer for its violation.
If you find it impossible to respect your elders, attempt at least to revere your betters.
The destruction of Virginia’s monuments to her war dead is sacrilege and those, who urge and execute it, are nothing more than cemetery vandals. There is no honor in this course of wanton destruction and, morally, you equate yourself with ISIS, which shares your contempt for actual culture, something you both so manifestly lack. It is more than history, more than art.

No matter. No one will remember you in any 150 years. Nothing you do can make anything like the mark these great Virginians made on history’s ledger. Just being you another day is your own punishment and yet you still face God for what you propose to do as well. Something is deeply, horribly wrong with your soul, Sir. And you know it. So does all Virginia.
I have strived to be civil, but you do not make it easy. Smearing reputations, slandering saints and tearing down what better men raised has zero to do with love, unity, tolerance, acceptance, diversity and coexistence. It’s just the usual political spoils game, playing one race/class/group against another to score a win at any cost. The mean, petty loathing of Virginia’s first string heroes outs you as a raging hypocrite just as you were trying to pass for intelligent. What a piece of work.
Just leave the statues, graves, monuments and memorials right where the grown-ups put them, Terry. Just fool around doing nothing, you know, like back at Georgetown. Easy.
That’s all I ask. And about the most anybody expects of you. Aren’t you tired yet of just being the same old failure and lurching from bungled debacle to bungled debacle?

Why not shock the world: open a book, educate yourself and do something less horrible than usual. Resign, even, and leave Virginians to govern Virginia. What a concept.
Shouldn’t you be ruining Syracuse instead of Richmond?

With all due respect,
Sherwin W. Dillar

The important thing about having lots of things to remember is that you’ve got to go somewhere afterwards where you can remember them, you see? You’ve got to stop. You haven’t really been anywhere until you’ve got back home.
—  Terry Pratchett - The Light Fantastic
Robin’s Nest: Part 12

Prompt: Where the robin’s were Bruce’s and Batmom’s biological kids

Words: 1334

AN: This was edited by my wonderful team of beta’s who continue to plow through my stories.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11


        Your eyes won’t leave their faces. So many versions of your children are standing before you, some of them completely grown. Your sons grow up handsome, and your daughters grow up beautiful. You’d smile if it weren’t for the cloud surrounding them, and the pain in your eyes.

          You’re the first one to break the silence, your voice is a bit shaky, “Time for bed, no patrol tonight.”

          The younger kids start moving towards the stairs but Dick and Jason protest. One look stops the argument before it begins, and they start moving towards the stairs. You can feel all eyes on you, and one look tells you everything you need to know, these people don’t know who you are. In their worlds you don’t exist.

          You straighten your back, and adjust Terry in your arms before moving to step in front of Bruce, “I’ll put on the coffee once the kids are in bed.”

          Bruce smiles, “Nothing I say is going to convince you to try and get some sleep, is it?”

          You shake your head and simply say: “For better or worse.”

          He kisses your forehead and says: “I love you.”

          You kiss him and then say: “Love you too.”  

          You move up the stairs. You grin a bit as you hear giggling, you follow the sound to your bedroom. All of your kids are in your bed. Helena and Damian are jumping up and down, Tim is curled up next to Dick, Jason is playing a videogame, and Cass is drawing something. You lay Terry down in the bassinet before crawling onto the bed with your kids.

          They’re all smiling, happy and healthy, and there’s no signs of darkness or sadness in their eyes. You kiss and hug each of them, before reading them several chapters of a Harry Potter book.

          Everyone is fast asleep by the time you crawl out of the bed, well, all but one. You bend over him, “You okay Tim?”

          There’s a moment of silence before he says, “They didn’t know who you were.”

          You swallow, “What makes you say that?”

          Tim smiles just a bit, “When daddy said, ‘I love you,’ a few of their mouths dropped open. They’ve never heard him say that before, and if he’s never said that, then you weren’t there.”

          You smile and kiss his forehead again, “You are so smart my little detective. Try and get some sleep.” He just nods, and closes his eyes, and with one last look you leave the room.

          You move quietly down the stairs, voices reach your ears as you hit the landing, and for some reason you just stop. You stop, sink to the floor and listen.

          “He said I love you, to another human being. I didn’t think that was possible in any dimension.”

          Another voice scoffs, “It’s one of many things all our big, bad, bats are supposed to have in common. No emotional connection, closed off, and never let anyone in.”

          Another voice clears his throat “The old man was married to his work, everyone left him in the end.”

          A younger voice this time says, “He wasn’t exactly the best parental figure. From the sound of it, he never really cared for any of us.”

          That has you surging forward, you’re in the doorway in the next three seconds. All eyes turn towards you, and you say, “Apparently you don’t know him that well.”

          “Look lady, we get it, you married him, you adopted this universe’s version of all of us, and you know that he loves you. But I’d also be willing to bet that he’s never home, and the job always comes first. Even if that’s not true, our version of the old man is one where it is. He only cares about Gotham.”

          Your face moves into what Dick has always called “Mom’s no nonsense face,” and your voice hardens a bit. “I’ve known Bruce Wayne from the time we were ten years old. I’ve been married to him since I was nineteen. So understand this right now, if there is anyone in this world who knows how stubborn and focused that man can be. It. Is. Me.”

          You take a deep breath, “I was there through the training, the traveling, heck I was there when the idea of Batman was conceived. I was there to monitor the computers, and stitch his wounds, hell, I’m the only one who can get close to him when scarecrow gets him with that awful gas.”

          And as for those kids up there, they are my children. With the exception of Cassandra, I gave birth to each and every one of them; Richard Thomas Wayne, Jason Alfred Wayne, Timothy James Wayne, Damian Lucius Wayne, Helena Martha Wayne, and Terry Allen Wayne. And while I may not have given birth to Cass, you better believe that I fought for her. She is just as much my child as any of the others.”

          There’s this look of surprise on their faces before a young man steps forward and asks: “You’re their mother? Their birth mother?”

          You nod, “Yes.” This look of shock and surprise passes over all their faces and you say: “I don’t exist in your worlds, do I?” Their faces tell you everything. You nod more to yourself than anyone else, as you go to sit on the couch. They all make room for you, their eyes never leaving you. After a few moments of silence you say: “Tell me about the worlds you come from.”

ok but just. imagine the squad playing monopoly

  • there is most definitely some sort of bet going on: everyone put in $10 and whoever wins gets the pot, but if the game goes too long then whoever gives in to anger and flips the table first has to give every other player $20
  • amy and rosa have an additional bet: whoever lasts longer gets the credit for the arrest in the case they’ve been working for 3 weeks
  • amy is the one who keeps trying to prove some obscure rule from the official instruction booklet
  • rosa keeps threatening everyone within an inch of their lives
  • jake calls dibs on the top hat but quickly relents and settles for the race car after amy says she’ll make him sleep on the couch bc Competitive Amy™ is terrifying (think back to ‘terry kitties’: “i’m gonna run you both off the road into a wall. i’m gonna kill you.” that level scary)
  • charles and jake have formed an alliance. they keep writing each other IOUs and selling each other cheap properties
  • captain holt is certain that he’ll win because he’s so good at strategizing & he keeps saying things like the 'hungarian fencing term’ line from the 3rd halloween ep but then gina absolutely destroys him
  • gina is the banker and she definitely is cheating and everyone knows but is too afraid of her to call her out on it
  • terry doesn’t want to play because the last game of monopoly he took part in ended when he broke the board in half in a fit of rage, not unlike the destruction of the dollhouse in 'the slump’
  • scully and hitchcock don’t understand the game so they steal unimaginable amounts of the squad’s french fries while everyone else is distracted. they consider themselves the true winners in this sitch
  • pimento sits out because he knows he’ll snap. everyone is 100% on board with this logic (“there’s no way this game will end without any casualties if i play, i’m not even gonna chance it”)
  • there are still casualties, mostly because adrian was rooting for jake and charles’ alliance, which did not win. the nine nine will forever hold dear the memory of the table they were playing the game on, may its plastic soul rest peacefully 
Travel | Jake Peralta

Title: Travel
Author: Clara
Character: Jake Peralta
Warnings: none I don’t think
Prompts: @fanfreakandco​: “Can you do a Jake Peralta one where you’re Holts adopted daughter and you come in to see your dad after a year or two of traveling all around the US with your friends, Jake sees you and starts flirting and Holt is not happy. Love your writing!!!”
anon: “Could you write a Jake Peralta x reader (B99) in which the reader is Captain Holt’s adopted daughter? Please and thank you! Xoxo”
Note: This is so bad and A Mess™ I had not written in a while and it shows

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Originally posted by brooklyn99

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3

The Return of Nightwing

Thinking about doing this one in parts because I really like the idea and can see potential for a possible mini-series :) 


It’s just a usual night for Terry, flying around in the Batmobile, looking for trouble. Being Batman sure has its perks; the sweet ride, all the coolest tech and gadgets, the list is endless. What a lot of people don’t realise is the struggle of the one behind the mask, what they have to sacrifice in order to go out every night to protect the city. 

Terry may be Gotham’s new Batman, but he is nothing like the one before him. For one, he isn’t as broody. Secondly, he isn’t as serious and likes to have some fun when he’s kicking ass. He doesn’t want to lose himself and become just Batman, he’s Terry McGinnis too, a son and an older brother. Unlike Bruce, he actually has a family to take care of while he has nothing left. Just a lonely old man. Terry doesn’t want to end up like that. The thought of being alone terrifies him. 

As he flies over the city, something, in particular, catches his eyes. Down below there is someone fighting a gang of Jokerz. In other words, someone is trying to do his job! He stops the Batmobile and promptly exits the vehicle, diving down to intervene. For all he knows it could be some random, untrained citizen trying to be a hero. He can’t let that go unnoticed. 

When his feet touch the ground and he can now get a closer look he realises the symbol on your chest. It once belonged to Dick Grayson, otherwise known as Nightwing. Why would someone like you be wearing the colours of one of Gotham’s greatest heroes? That is what Terry aims to find out. 

“Are you just going to stand there and gawk or are you actually going to help?” You snap at the Bat standing in front of you whilst continuing to fight off what seems like an endless army of Jokerz. 

“What’s wrong can’t handle a couple of Jokerz?” He attempts to mock you, not knowing who you are. 

“Shut up and fight!” You shout over all the noise at him. 

Terry does what he is told not wanting to get on your bad side. From what he can tell, you want to be an ally and you can handle yourself in a fight. In fact, the way you move is awfully familiar. You use some of the moves that Bruce taught him and others mimic the movements of Dick Grayson himself. Something tells Terry that there’s more to you than meets the eyes.

The two of you end the fight in no time. Terry just stands there and looks at you for a moment. You are wearing all the old school gear, no high tech gadgets or suit. It’s like you have travelled to the future from the past and it is a strange sight for him. Nothing is like that anymore, everything is top technology. Before Terry can even open his mouth you reach for your grapple gun and zip up into the air. He uses his rocket boots to chase after you, he needs answers. 

You stand there waiting on top of a building for him, away from the world below your feet. “I guess he hasn’t told you about me?” 

“That depends on who he is.” Terry picks his words carefully in case you are working with one of his enemies. If he has learned anything from Bruce, it is to be careful who you trust. 

“Our common friend. The one who guides you through that earpiece of yours.” You point to your head and smirk.

“Who do you–” Before he can finish his sentence, he hears Bruce’s voice sound in his ear. 

McGinnis, I know you must have a lot of questions but I need you to bring her to the Batcave immediately. I need to talk to her.” Bruce gives out his orders. 

“What’s he saying?” You ask curiously, knowing that he just spoke to him. 

“Looks like you’re coming with me.” Terry signals the Batmobile and the doors open up. Without question, you get in the vehicle with him.

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Hey guys my family member works at blizzard and gave me the script for the Doomfist reveal

You update your game, which is disguised as just another patch. You sigh. You open the game, and as you try to skip an opening cutscene, you find you can’t. Suddenly, as Winston is speaking, the wall behind him breaks down. It’s Doomfist. Winston says “It’s you”. Doomfist, voiced by Terry Crews, shouts back “ITS ME”

anonymous asked:

For that Ship-game thing: DickKory 11 or 20 please

20: things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

At the sound of Donna’s quiet voice, Dick stops just short of entering the main sitting room in the tower.

“- and I’m still so young, I’ve got my whole life ahead of me.” Donna sighs. “Maybe I’m just a naive kid. Sometimes I feel like I’ve known Terry forever, but other times..”

She stops mid-sentence, and Dick can imagine her downcast eyes, along with her fallen expression.

Oh. So it was one of those conversations; the kind that would not receive his interruption well.  He makes a note to talk with Donna later, but for now he should just -

“Do you ever feel like you’ve rushed things with Dick?” Donna’s voice rings through the room, and Dick freezes.

Perhaps he can stay for a little while longer. Is it technically eavesdropping if the conversation topic is the listener?

He hears the melodic sound of Kory humming in contemplation, before she responds.

“No,” she says, her voice soft as velvet. “No, I don’t feel that way at all. Dick is amazing. He’s smart and kind and interesting.” She pauses, before adding, “and very attractive.”

Donna gives a fond laugh at that.

“I think,” Kory begins, before pausing once more. The silence stretches out for only a moment, but to Dick’s anxious ears it feels like forever. “I think I’m in love with him.”

Dick’s heart, no matter how cliche it sounds, skips a beat. His breaths stop entirely, and his mouth falls open the slightest bit in shock.

“Have you told him yet?” Donna questions, breaking Dick out of his trance.

“No,” Kory admits. “Maybe we’ve been moving too slow.” Her tone is only slightly joking.

“Your first meeting involved a kiss,” Donna points out, a smile clear in her voice. “A long kiss.”

Kory’s laughter echoes through the room. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You should tell him,” the woman he has come to think of as a sister says. “He feels the same way. I see it in the way he looks at you; like you’re the brightest thing in the room.”

Kory is silent for a moment, the resounding sound of Dick’s heartbeat being the only noise he can hear.

“Maybe I will,” she says at last, causing Dick’s heart to flutter. “But back to you. Do you love Terry?

As the conversation shifts, Dick takes his leave.

He can’t help but turn the discussion over in his head. Kory loves him.

But what if Donna’s right? Maybe they’re just naive kids, experiencing a new sort of thrill. Maybe they’re young and stupid, and this can only end in heartbreak. Kory’s still only getting used to this planet, let alone it’s occupants. Maybe this is just a fling, Maybe she’ll discover someone better than him. Maybe -

He thinks of her warm hand in his own. Of her breath tickling his neck, and her musical laugh. Of how her smile outshines the sun, and how being in her presence for no more than a just few minutes causes his own face to break into a grin. Of how, despite the fact that he spends his nights leaping from buildings and swinging on grappling hooks, he has never felt more like he is flying than when her lips are on his own.

Maybe he loves her, too.

send me a ship and one of these and i’ll write a mini fic