the frost report

So this kid(Andrew Conley), instead of actually doing his part of his lab report like he was supposed to do, decided to write this epic poem about how Landon didn’t make a doc and complained they didn’t have one. Pls take a moment to read this and peep the title. It is truly a testament to the extent of procrastination

The Joker x Reader  *Past Life*

This was requested by the lovely  brieflylouddonut28:

For once in a very long time, The Joker is fast asleep. You are still awake, trying to silence the voices in your head. Sometimes they get so loud that you just can’t unwind. You move closer to J, burying your face in his neck, attempting not to think about anything. A tiny smile forms on your lips when you inhale his scent: he smells so good. As you rest your right arm on his chest, you feel his heart beating faster and faster. A low growl follows, then his body shudders a few times. Oh, no, not the nightmare again!

You quickly get on your knees, trying to wake him up.

“Baby, wake up,” you shake him gently but he’s still in the dream, tormented. “Hey, wake up!” you intensify your movement and J finally opens his eyes, gasping for air, like someone just choked him. He immediately reaches his hand to grab the gun from under the pillow but you are fast to pin it.

“It’s me, it’s me, stop!” you hover over him for a few seconds before letting go. “Are you ok?” you ask, worried, waiting for him to recollect.

“Yes, I will be in a second,” he sighs, rubbing his face with his fists.

You take your pillows and pile them up against the bed frame, lean against them and slowly pull him in your arms. The Joker doesn’t object and he cuddles for a few moments, resting his face on your breasts.

“What would Batsy think to see me like this, doll, hmm?” He lifts his head, looking in your eyes, waiting for the answer.

“Screw Batsy, what the hell does he know?”, you whisper, stroking his green hair with your hand. J scoffs, a bit amused.

“That’s true, he doesn’t know crap.”

“Go back to sleep J.”

“I don’t think I can…Wanna full around? It would make me feel better,” he grins, kissing your shoulder.

“Whatever makes you feel better, baby,” you chuckle, but then you realize: “She could hear us.”

“No she won’t, she’s on the other side of the penthouse.” The Joker’s hands are already all over you, and he keeps on talking as he kisses all the skin he can see.

“One of these…days…I might have to kill ya…You know too much… about me…”

You violently pull his hair back, panting.
“Please do try, it would… be fun. It’s always cute when you attempt to do it. I warned you: assassins are not easy to… kill …Omg, did you just ripped my panties again!? Why can’t you just take them off normally?!”

“Because it’s not sexy, Princess.”

You both start laughing and then you suddenly stop, just staring at each other.

“Com’ere Kitten,” he says after a long pause, grinding his silver grill, shifting his body so you can get on top of him.

Damian Johnson married young; he was only 22 and his bride 21. They were so in love. They both worked for the same gang, climbing their way on top pretty fast. She got pregnant in the first year of marriage and he was so happy he was going to be a father. Everything was moving fast, way too fast, both hungry for power and striving to take over Gotham’s underworld. It wasn’t easy living that life, but they liked it and as every young hot blooded person, thought that nothing would stay in their way…until they pushed it too hard and messed with the wrong people.

Damian lost her and his unborn child in the fire that was set to their home as revenge for what they have done. He was away with business and couldn’t do anything to stop it. Then the nightmares started and they got worst and worst. He always dreamed she was burning alive, screaming his name. He completely lost his mind, spending a few good years in and out of mental institutions, high security prisons for criminally insane, back on the streets to wreak havoc, caught again, escaped again and then…nothing. It was like he vanished from the face of the earth. The FBI, police and Secret Service spared no expense in looking for him since he was on the list of most wanted criminals. But he was just gone.


***First time you met her was in June on a Saturday-about a year ago***

You two are at one of your clubs for the night. The Joker sits on his velvet couch in the VIP room and your favorite spot is to sit on your big, fluffy pillow at his feet, resting your elbow on his knees. You always like to wear form fitting black slacks and a white dressy shirt when you have business meetings going on. You keep your guns in a dark red holster in plain sight, just like the Joker. The meeting just ended and now you are just laughing at something silly you guys remembered from when you first met so many years ago.

“Excuse me, boss,” Frost parts the silver beads, stepping in. ”Sorry to interrupt, but we have a situation outside and I think you should know about it.”

“What is it, Jonny?” you inquire, curious to hear about something that might spice up the rest of the night.

“There’s a young woman at the door, not old enough to get in and she says she won’t leave until she talks to Mister J.”

“Just give her a push and tell her to get lost!” The Joker smirks, pointing out the exit with his cane.

“We tried, but she is causing quite a scene, we don’t want to draw any unwanted attention.”

“Jesus, Frosty, I’ll come check,” you offer. “Another crazy one seeking for our attention. Make sure she’s not wired and check the perimeter a few blocks around before you bring her in the soundproof room in the basement. I don’t want no trouble for J. Double the security all around. “

“Of course, N/A, give me and the boys a few minutes, I’ll let you know when she’s in.”

Frost leaves and you get on your feet, stretching  a bit, checking your two guns to make sure they are loaded, even if you know they are.

“This is stupid, Pumpkin, you shouldn’t bother, let Panda kill her or something,” the Joker smiles, tilting his head while looking at you. His pale face seems emotionless now.

“I’ll go, I don’t mind, Puddin. I’ll be back shortly; you just sit here and look handsome, all right? Enjoy the show, the girls are doing a great job tonight. Want anything before I leave?”

“Yeah, you,” he purrs with an evil spark in his ice cold blue eyes.

You giggle, kissing him roughly while you rubbing yourself against him.

“I’ll be back, hold on…and then we can have some fun,” you finally break the kiss, heading towards the stairs. Panda guards the outside of the VIP room with 7 other guys. You stop in front of him, baffled.

“You don’t get hot in that, Richard? Must be 1000 degrees in there. You know, taking your mask off is not gonna kill you.”

“But I like it, N/A,” the muffled voice replies, lifting his shoulders up.

“Suit yourself, Rich, just don’t faint on me, I need you alert, we might have something going on. Eyes on J, all of you; nothing happens to him, OK?”
“Yes, m’am,” he salutes.

“Don’t be a smart ass with me,” you threaten, shaking your head as you walk away.

“Sorry, N/A.”

You have time for a drink before Frost finds you to tell you they have the girl where you wanted her.

Your high hills echo on the basement’s floor. You open the door loudly and that startles the young woman sitting on the chair, already guarded by two henchmen.

“She’s clean, N/A, no proof of anything going on,” Frost reports, positioning himself to your left.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…Could you gentlemen leave us for a few moments while we girls talk?” you demand, sucking on your teeth.

The goons leave. You take one of you guns out and pull up your sleeves, revealing your numerous Joker themed tattoos. The girl looks frightened and she should be, she can’t take her eyes off your weapon.

“Do you know who I am?”  She nods a shy yes.

“Well, sweetheart,” you start talking, getting closer,” what’s your deal, ha? Are you in need of attention or do you have a death wish tonight? You look young, I’m sure it’s past your bedtime,” you mock her, irritated.

“I’m 17…” she nervously gulps.

“I’m sorry, did I ask you to tell me your age???!” you snap at her and she jumps, alarmed. You inhale, trying to somehow control your vexation. “Why are you here?”
“I… I need to talk to the Joker…”

“ You mean MISTER J, sweetheart?,” you interrupt, sulking.

I’m sorry… Mister J…”

“And why would that be, hmm? What do you want?”

She hesitates telling you so you’re losing your patience. You start yelling:

“Here’s how it works: nothing gets to him until it clears through me. Do you think you just ask to see him and it happens? !” You take the safety off you gun and point it towards her head. “You have 10 seconds to tell me what is going on.”

The girl starts whimpering. “I… I think he’s my father…”

Bam! The bullet barely misses her head; you sure never heard that one before.

“I’ll be damn, that was less than 10 seconds and I already want to kill you!” Your finger gets on the trigger again.

“Please, please don’t…”she closes her eyes, sobbing. “My mother’s name was Sarah Johnson and my father’s name was Damian Johnson.”

Your hand freezes.

“How the hell do you know those names?” you shriek, shocked that came out of her mouth. She continues to speak and crying in the same time.

“I’ve always been looking for my parents. I was raised in foster homes and trying to find out who I am until I got a hold of my file and started researching my past. I’ve been gathering information for the past year and I kind of came to the conclusion that…”

“You’re trippin’, little girl, and I have no more patience for your nonsense. Sarah Johnson is dead and her child died with her,” you bite on your lip, starting to feel uneasy. “I’ve never killed someone this young before, but, well, there’s a first time for everything,” you mutter, furrowing your eyebrows. She has the nerve to continue:

“They got my mother out the fire and took her to the hospital, that’s what the file says. She was barely hanging to her life, burned all over, but they were able to save her baby…They didn’t know who she was at the moment, they deemed her Jane Doe for a very long time. Her name and my father’s weren’t easy to come by. Here, I have everything with me. He could…we could…do some…” she whimpers, taking out a bunch of papers out of her purse, shaking. You yank all of it out of her hand and back out, opening the door.

“You don’t get to make any requests, sweetheart, thank your lucky star you are still alive. Frosty, keep a close eye on her, if she moves a muscle, fucking shoot her. I’ll be back.”

“Will do, Y/N.”


There were rumors spreading around Gotham’s underworld about a mysterious young girl working with the Joker and Y/N. They were just speculations, of course, but some swore they saw her with the two of them in different places before all hell broke loose. Nobody knew who she was and how she ended up with them, but one thing was certain: the ones that got a glimpse at her disclosed that the Queen and King of Crime simply addressed her with Miss J.

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Title: sweet, but not too sweet

Fandom: K Project

Summary: Or, five times someone gave Fushimi cake and one time he gave cake to someone else.

Notes: Very belated Fushimi birthday fic (because I didn’t get the idea for it until I read Gora’s tweets the other day). Starts out sort of angsty, ends in shameless Sarumi fluff.

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The last known sighting of a dragon in Tamriel was in the time of Tiber Septim. He made a pact with the few remaining dragons, swearing to protect them if they would serve him. Despite his promise, dragons were still hunted and slain. It’s not clear if the last ones fled Tamriel or if they were exterminated.

There is no credible story of how dragons came to be. According to dremora that the College of Whispers have “questioned,” they just were, and are. Eternal, immortal, unchanging, and unyielding. They are not born or hatched. They do not mate or breed. There are no known examples of dragon eggs or dragonlings. The Iliac Bay area has stories of such things, but so far all have proven false. The eggs turned out to be eggs of other reptiles. The small dragons were merely oversized lizards and no relation to true dragons.

Although they are not born, dragons can die. During the Dragon War of the Merethic Era, their numbers were decimated. The Akaviri invaders of the late First Era are said to have hunted and killed scores of them, before and after their defeat by Emperor Reman. Some sources say the Akaviri brought over dragon-killing spells. Others claim they built cunning traps. One tale even speaks of a rare poison.

It is well accepted that a dragon’s most fearsome weapon is its fiery breath. Because they could fly overhead and rain down flaming death, archers and wizards were necessary when hunting them. It is less well known that some dragons could breathe a freezing spray of frost. The reports indicate that dragon might do one or the other, but not both.

Most people think of dragons as mere beasts. However, logically they must have had language in order for Tiber Septim to have negotiated with them. Indeed, the historical record is quite clear that dragons were highly intelligent. They had their own language, but could also speak the languages of men and elves.

The records of Reman’s hunts contain reports of dragons that breathe or spit fire. Recently some were unearthed that described dragons blowing freezing blasts of cold. The more fanciful tales have them summoning storms and even stopping time. These should be discounted as myths and faery tales. Even without this most fearsome weapon, their nearly impenetrable hide and granite-like teeth and claws made them terrifying opponents.

There is some confusion over when the last dragon was killed. It seems the last few vanished all at once. Some tales speak of a dragon king who devoured all of them rather than let mankind kill them. One of the more far-fetched stories has Tiber Septim absorbing their essences when he ascended to godhood. Although the exact cause is unknown, they are all gone. No dragon has been seen for centuries. There are a few known examples of dragon bones fused with the stone and rocks of cliffs and caves. Just enough proof to make the stories undeniable.

- There be Dragons
by Torhal Bjorik

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Rap Monster/Namjoon


The Trouble with Faking It - 11

Summary: Killian Jones is one drunken mistake from never setting foot on a movie set again. Enter Emma Swan, the woman his manager has paid to pretend to date him and clean up his image. It seems straightforward enough…but there’s always trouble with faking it. CaptainSwan.

Rating: M

Also on FF or Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]


Their routine returns to normal, a steady stream of media events, award shows and Regina-assigned tasks to keep the press machine running smoothly, but as the weeks go by, there’s a shift Emma can’t ignore.

It began that afternoon in the hospital. She didn’t mean to say quite as much as she did, but once it was out there, once his story was out there, it’s been impossible to go back to pretending he doesn’t matter.

He matters. He might matter too much, but she tries to ignore that nagging doubt and just enjoy the comfort of his friendship, the time they spend together. He’s the first true friend she’s had in a long time, and there’s something worth cherishing about that.

But it’s more than that – he’s kept his word, not pushing for more, and slowly but surely, she relaxes around him, accepts she’s a part of his life now. At least for the next six months. After that…well, she tries not to think about what comes next.

He’s in the kitchen with her again, another late night baking session, when he gets it in his head he wants to learn to pipe frosting. “It appears quite simple when you do it,” he insists, gesturing to the piping bag as she swirls vanilla frosting over the latest batch of cupcakes.

“It’s not that hard. C’mere.” Emma smiles in invitation, placing an unfrosted cupcake onto the counter in front of her.

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