the third one is me all the time

Hi everyone! It’s been a while..
Since tumblr changed their copyright policy it’s almost impossible for me to post music here.
Actually I would like to tell you that this account may be terminated by tumblr eventually, due to copyright infringements. I’ve received my second warning this week and with a third one they will delete this account. And I’m afraid it will happen pretty soon.
To be honest I can’t believe this blog is still working. We’ve seen so many music blogs disappear.
Anyway, all this time running this blog have been a blast. And I’m really sad this will end. It was really good having all the music in one blog. I think i will have to find another place to do it again. I don’t know.
In conclusion, i would like to thank you for all the nice messages I’ve received and all your support.
Luz. 💜

anonymous asked:

I get that u nd em are like bffs or whatever but do you really have to reblog half her shit all the time with your stupid add ons? Like whne someone asks her a question they ask her not you, so like ur her friend but butt out sometimes

So um first: rude.

Second: I’m not going to stop reblogging stuff from Emilee.

Third: There’s an easy fix for this!

  • If you follow me and you’re seeing the reblogs then you can unfollow me, no hard feelings at all.
  • If you’re not following me I don’t know how you’re seeing the replies/reblogs unless you’re going to Emilee’s blog,  looking for the post and then looking at the notes on purpose so I can’t help you there because that’s on your for doing that. The only thing I can think of  is to just want to block me

I don’t get why this is such an issue for you, my reblogging and adding on to Em’s posts (which by the way I usually just reblog and write in the tags????).

Client: None of the flyer changes I wanted made were made. Also, a word is still spelled wrong on all the flyers, which is UNACCEPTABLE considering this is the THIRD time I have asked it to be changed. 

Me: You’re looking at the original flyer draft, not the one I sent you this morning.

Also, it was the first time she noticed a spelling mistake, not the third. 

I want you to remember me curled up, listening to the sound of your heartbeat and tracing maps across your skin. Remember me laughing at your jokes, even the stupid ones. Remember me in hysterics for absolutely no reason and in tears because one time you made me so sad neither of us thought I’d recover. Remember me brave, that time you held my hand and I thought I was going to die; remember me scared and gentle and delicate and breakable - only for you though, only for you.
Remember me happy, and all the ridiculous ways I tried to get your attention. Remember the way I was too stubborn to talk to you and how absolutely insane it drove the both of us. Remember all the firsts and how they were so delightful we went back for seconds and thirds and fourths. Remember the songs you couldn’t stop listening to and the childish dreams you allowed yourself about the future. If it’s any consolation I allowed myself to have them too.
If it comes to it I don’t want you to remember the ending.
Remember the beginning. Remember the first time you knew.
—  (via mangohtangoh)
Humans Are Weird

Oh gosh, guys, what if humans are the only known species to have brain farts!!

It was the second time in two minutes. Human Sergei came onto the third floor’s common, only to stand in the doorway with a blank look on his visage before turning around and walking back out.

“Do you think he’s ill?” I said to Crewmate Thrifsk Sark.

She shrugged, the translucent ribbons of skin protruding from her shoulders rippling. “Crewmate Human Sergei is a strange one,” she replied. “I’ve learned to ignore his behaviour during leisure hour.”

The muscles in my lower visage clenched and I turned back in time to see Human Sergei arrive a third time. Far from a blank expression, though, he wore one of irritation.

“That’s it!” he shouted. “Can someone please tell me what I came in here for?”

His demand was met with shock, and all six of the crew present in the room immediately surrounded the human.

“Are you injured?”

“Are you sick?”

“Why can’t you remember?”

“Someone fetch Medical!”

“I AM FINE!” Human Sergei bellowed. “I just can’t remember what I came in…! OH! Wait!” His exclamation startled me and I fell back a step. He beamed at me. “Medical! Chief wants you in the sick bay, Dorg. There was a malfunction with one of the stasis pods.”

“Swirling gasses, is anyone hurt?” I squealed, grabbing my crewmate by his arm and dragging him out of the common. “Is it occupied?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just smoking a little.”

A stasis pod was smoking?!?

“How did you forget that a stasis pod was smoking?” I demanded.

Human Sergei lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug as we ran. “Blame it on the brain fart, man.”


I did a style challenge! I drew Hercules Mulligan from Hamilton as my character of basis ah

I would like to say that I copied these artists’ styles as an exercise and in no way take credit for developing these styles or owning them or calling them mine or anything. I only claim that I was the one to draw each of these pieces- not that the ideas and styles I based them on were mine. 

I had quite a bit of fun with this, and it really helped me learn a lot!

the first one is my style, even though my style changes all the time fhdskjafd

@crashandburrnart is the second one, and I love !?!? their style so much!?!? its so unique and beautiful and im emo the colors are always so well done and I love the trademark over-the-eyes

@terror-in-the-dream is the third one, and just golly im literally so gay for this style?? YOu have such a good grasp of colors and it was an honor to try and just replicate it fhghjgzy

@raythrill is the fourth one, and this was probably the most challenging style for me to replicate. Your art looks so good despite the fact that it seems you don’t use guidelines and I”m just like,,? HOW

@halpdevon is the fifth one, you are such a doll and your art is incredible and jeez im just gay for you in general , stay beautiful and hydrated love

@spibbles is the sixth one, HI YES I LOVEyou r art you’re so talented and you get a lot of shit here on tumblr and no we’ve never met before but you’re such an inspiration to me and I love your art and I love your animatics and I hope that you stay healthy and that you are happy in life and - anyways herc is so cute in your style but your style is cute in general so 

@eightmonkeys is the final seventh piece. I love your art so much, it’s so flowing and like,, you have a really good grasp of shapes and I love the way you draw freckles and I love the way you can maintain consistency and ALSO HIT ME up about Daveed Diggs and clipping. cause I love talking about. that. and nobody else seems to like it rip me


Cryptocracy is the best scifi action-comedy about gay space pirates battling both Earth Fascism and Space Fascism you’ll read all week!! You can trust me on that, I wrote the damn thing!!

Whether you’re reading for the first time or engaging in a long overdue reread, I decided it would be to everyone’s benefit to have a one-stop shop for all chapters of the book!! This is the entire book, and as always, it is provided for free at no cost to you!! Please read this book, and don’t forget to share this post with your friends!!

Thunderstorms (Newt X Reader)

Originally posted by jeremy-jordans

Anonymous asks: do you think you could write one in which newt and the reader are in an argument? it can be over something silly, but I dunno, I’d be cool to see them both proper upset at each other

WARNINGS: This will. Kill. You. Do not sue me.

First of all, you were in a bad mood. Second of all, Newt forgot to pick up his dirty clothes from a couple days ago. Third of all, you had asked Newt twice and he had completely forgotten both times.

You weren’t about to pick them up, and all logic seemed to have abandoned you. Why should you pick up his mess? You made dinner, did the dishes, and cleaned up while he just worked in his suitcase! It was the last straw for you.

You went storming down Newt’s suitcase and demanded, “Newt, why haven’t you picked up your clothes?” You sounded like mother nagging her son.

Newt looked at you and blinked. “My what?”

“I said why haven’t you picked up your clothes that are on the floor. In our room, honey,” you grimaced, gritting your teeth slightly.

Newt raised his eyebrow. You always called him honey when you were upset. “I’ll get it in a minute, love—”

“That’s what you said earlier today,” you interrupted, crossing your arms and taking on a passive aggressive stance.

“But… I’m trying to put Pickett to bed…” Newt held up a little blanket that he made for Pickett. He gave you an innocent puppy dog look.

You just glared a him. “Newt, I am not picking up your things, I’ve been cleaning up after you all day!”

Newt frowned, turning his attention to you. “No you haven’t!” He crossed his arms and stood up to examine your furious expression.


“Please, lower your voice, you’re going to make it hard for Pickett to fall asleep!” Newt said, trying to calm you down, but all the while growing more frustrated with you.

“I. AM. NOT. YELLING!!” You shrieked angrily, glaring like a lion at your husband.

“Love, you’ve crossed the line,” Newt barked sternly. “Please calm down or leave my suitcase!” It hurt Newt to be so stern with you, but he knew you needed to cool down.

“Fine then!” You thew up your hands. “Choose your precious bowtruckles over me!” You stomped over to the latter and hastily scrabble upwards. You slipped slightly, and would have been comical had you not been in such a hot mood.

Hot tears flooded your eyes. You’d a really rough day and now you were flooded wish jealous. Jealous of all things! Over Newt’s creatures! It’s true, sometimes you couldn’t help but feel jealous. The way Newt touched and spoke to them. And how much time he spent with them.

It began to rain. Heavily. Your stomach did a flip and then turned into a knot. Heavy rain usually meant something else too. Thunder. You hated being a baby about it, but the quick flash and noise scared you.

You ran down the hall trying to find a safe haven, while also rubbing the tears from your face.

A flash of lightning lit up the hall and then a burst of loud rumbling hit your ear drums. Biting back a whimper, you ran to your room and went to the closet.

Another big boom sent you into a huddled position, your forehead resting on your knees. You rocked back and forth trying suppress the fear and confusion in your mind.

Tears were now rolling down your face at the speed of light, as you but your lip to keep from crying out loud. You hated thunder. More than you hated Newt’s clothes being on the floor.

Suddenly the door flew open and you blinked hard. “Oh love,” you heard a soft voice say.

Before he could say anything else, you tackled Newt in a bear hug, sending both of you to the ground. You pressed your face against Newt’s chest trying to ignore the thunder. “Newt…” You whimpered quietly, clutching into him for dear life.

Newt sat up, cradling you like an infant. “It’s okay, mummy’s here,” Newt whispered in your ear, stroking your hair and rocking you from side to side. “I’m sorry I raised my voice at you. I should have picked up those silly clothes the moment you told me. I’m sorry, darling.”

You hugged Newt tighter. “I should have been more sensible, I love you and should have been willing to pick up after you no matter what. Do you love me more than your beasts…?” You croaked, tears still coming down. You knew his answer, but you just needed to hear it.

“I love you so much more. I love you so much you’re not even fully aware of my love for you,” Newt chuckled, giving you a slight squeeze of comfort.

There was another burst of light and then the boom. You squeezed your eyes closed and buried your face back into Newt’s chest.

Newt picked you up bridal style and walked over to the bed. After he gently set you down, he pulled the covers over you like you were a child. Tucking the covers to your chin, Newt whispered, “I’m not leaving you.”

You sniffed a sigh of relief and watched Newt walk to his side of the bed to join you. Once the both of you were in bed, you put your arms around Newt and snuggled close against him.

As you glanced around the room, you noticed that in the corner, there were no dirty clothes on the floor.


Before the Sun Is In the Sky - Lin Manuel Miranda X Reader

Pairing: Lin Manuel Miranda x Reader

Summary: You’re a sleep deprived third-year resident at the hospital and you’ve been assigned to the ER where a disheveled Lin comes in after a kitchen mishap.

Warnings: Blood, needles, cursing. I think that’s it?

Word Count: 3,132 (Yiiiikes.)

A/N: So I haven’t written in a long while, so it’s hella rusty and I’m sorry for this trash. This is my first fic in a long ass time. It was initially gonna be a one shot, but then I started rambling and well, it’s dumb. ANYWAY. Have fun with this garbage. Let me know what y'all think and maybe I’ll write more. Who knows.

SIDE NOTE: Thanks to @ourforgottenboleros for editing and being the sweetest pal ever. GO READ HER STUFF ‘CAUSE BECCA INSPIRED ME TO WRITE AGAIN AND HONESTLY I’M FLUSTERED BC OF HER WORK, SO YEAH.

You were four hours past the end of your shift at Columbia University Hospital and you’d been sleep deprived for a little over two days. It wasn’t like you had a right to kick yourself in the ass for being so exhausted because you intentionally signed up for this. Four years at Tufts, another four at Cornell, you weren’t about to throw it all away just because you were tired. It was part of the job. As a third-year resident, you should be used to it by now – and sure, you were, but you were human and sleep was still precious.

It was almost 4 in the morning and you were making your last round in the pit before calling it a night. The ER was oddly silent in a city that never sleeps, but still, you were beyond grateful for the silent reprieve, no matter how momentary.

“Doctor Y/N, there’s a minor laceration that just got assigned to Room 17,” a nurse called out from behind the station. “He was the last patient out there.”

You groaned to yourself, almost wanting to admit defeat. You didn’t want to go check up on someone that was most likely inebriated to the point where impulse and clumsiness overpowered all logic and balance. The guy probably had some superficial injury that could be patched up with some antibacterial cream and a Spider-Man band aid.

“Thanks, Erica,” you replied as you stifled a yawn that’s been trying to escape for the past six hours. “Stats and everything uploaded to the database?”

Erica nodded and smiled at you sympathetically, knowing full well how much you just wanted to go home, take off everything, and climb into bed for just five hours before it was time to start again.

Room 17, you thought to yourself as your feet subconsciously brought you to the back hallway of the emergency room, tablet in tow. After a brief overview of his stats, medical history, and a description of the wound, you quickly gave the door two knocks before entering the room. Pulling back the privacy curtain, you looked up from your tablet and smiled at a disheveled man with his hand wrapped in a bloody hand towel.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Y/N, Mister… Lin-Manuel.” You smiled as you set down the tablet and approached him.

“You can just call me Lin,” he replied as he tried to wave at you with his cut hand, pain suddenly reminding him of his early morning mistake. “Oh duh, so stupid.”

You bit your cheek to keep the snicker that was quickly rising up and grabbed a pair of latex gloves and put them on.

“Alright, so what happened?” Reaching out for his hand, you gingerly hold it and remove the towel, exposing a three inch long slice on his left hand, starting from a centimeter above the base of his middle finger ending down by the outside curve of his palm. “Ahh, there it is.”

“Apple,” he started. “I was slicing an apple because eating it whole is just weird and it’s so much easier to eat it in slices, so that way I have free range with my hands to–”

You stopped him. “So you were slicing an apple on a cutting board and then this happened… to the inside of your palm?” That made no sense. If anything, he would’ve cut a finger or even the outside of his hand.

Shuffling over to the cabinet on the wall adjacent to the bed, you opened it up and grabbed gauze pads and saline solution.

“No, I was holding it. In my hand.” Lin looked you in the eye and then suddenly couldn’t make eye contact. There was a moment of hesitation and he brought his focus to the pulse oximeter still attached to his index finger. “Stupid, I know, but I wasn’t thinking. I had other things going on in my head and I got hungry, so I figured I’d cut up an apple and get back to writing.”

You made your way back over to him.

“I think a lesson was learned today,” you retorted with a smirk on your face as you began to clean the cut.

He winced and jerked his hand away just a bit. “Yeah, but it’s a setback now.”

You tried to clean the cut, but every time you put an ounce of pressure to the area, he seemed more and more uncomfortable. “Okay, I’m gonna numb this.”

“With a topical cream?” He asked with a raised brow, concern growing on his face.

“I could use a topical anesthetic, but when I stitch this up, you’ll probably feel a little more of the sutures than you’d like…”

You felt bad for him, you really did. His apparent uneasiness with needles on top of very obvious sleep deprivation (his eye bags looked worse than yours, dear Lord) made his big brown eyes grow wider and suddenly, they looked, for lack of a better term, helpless. That split second of fear and anxiety staring right back at you in the form of a puppy dog in a human’s body just sent your heart plummeting.

“Look, it’ll be quick. If anything, it’s a quick pinch here,” you pointed to the base of his finger, then the middle of his palm, and the edge of his hand. “There, and… right there. By the time it’s over, you’ll just feel pressure on it and it’s all done.” You flashed him a reassuring smile and shot him a look of ‘okay, let’s do it?’.

Lin audibly swallowed and nodded shaking. “I just… needles. Not too great with them.”

You headed towards the door and shot him yet another sympathetic grin. “I know, but it’ll help, I promise. I’ll be right back with what I need and we’ll get you stitched up and out of here, okay?”

“Sure, take your time, Doc.” He ran his free hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. “Please. Take your time. I need to mentally prepare for… this.” He gestured around the room and looked up at the ceiling.

You chuckled and shook your head. “You’ll be just fine.”

This was an everyday occurrence. Patients came in and out of the hospital, especially the pit where they were never anticipating to be. Patience and understanding were two traits that were necessary on the road to success as a doctor, so when it came to cases like this, the standard protocol was already second nature to you.

Once you had the required items, you took your tray and brought it back to his room. “Hey there, all set?”

A shaky breath escaped Lin’s lips and he shook his head again, clearly trying his hardest to smile. “Uh, no, but it needs to happen. I just… the blood, the stitches, my hand…”

“I’ll distract you,” you offered as you grabbed the stool and took a seat next to the bed. “Okay, put your hand up here and tell me about what you were working on.” Fingers in place in the new pair of gloves, you took the syringe and popped off the top before beginning to administer the anesthesia.

He gasped audibly, prompting you to stop to give him a few more moments of preparation. “Shit, that’s a big needle.” His eyes widened at the sight of the bevel that was a hairline away from his gaping wound.

It was a short gauge, a whopping 26 millimeters from the tip to the hub, barely a millimeter longer than a typical 25-gauge butterfly. A baby’s pinky finger was longer.

“Shh, shh, don’t look,” you told him calmly in an attempt to reassure him. “Close your eyes, Lin. It’s okay. Breathe in, breathe out.” A comforting smile grew across your face as you coaxed him to relax. “So tell me, what’s that thing you were working on?”

“A musical.” He exhaled a shaky breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, his free hand visibly trembling as he brought it up to further cover his face, as if shielding himself from the entire ordeal would make it all go away. You started to administer the anesthesia one more time, working as lightly as you possibly could. “It’s a fuzzy idea I had one day and it just sort of – ow! Sorry, I – ah! Fuck! Damn it! I’m gonna – oh God, I’m gonna puke…”

“It’s over, it’s over, no more pain.” You gazed into his eyes as a smile tugged on the corners of your lips. “Also, no more sensation because you’ll be numb for a few hours.”

He cautiously opened his eyes and looked back at you, chest rising and falling as if he’d sprinted up six flights of stairs, a slight grin of relief reciprocating your own. “God, that was horrible.”

You couldn’t help but giggle a little. There was something entrancing about his personality, and honestly, him being your (hopefully) last patient almost made it worthwhile.

“You’re fine. I’ll get it all stitched and you can go back home to work on that musical, alright? Tell me all about it.” Suture in hand, you began to close up his wound, stealing glimpses of him every now and then to ensure he was comfortable.

“You know the dude on the ten-dollar bill? Well, he’s got a wild story from start to finish.”

“Alexander Hamilton? That guy?”

He opened up his eyes and looked at you as you met his gaze with a quizzical look. With pursed lips, he nodded as if to say, ‘Yeahhhh, crazy.’

A musical. About some old man on the ten spot. Who in the world would do such a thing? Of course, you weren’t about to burst his bubble, especially since he was slowly but surely calming down. And plus, it was mesmerizing just listening to him ramble on.

You were about a third of the way through and despite your desperation for rest (and a bagel – dear God, you were starving), conversing with this sleep deprived, clumsy playwright-slash-musician somehow made tonight much more entertaining – which was odd because your definition of ‘entertaining’ was scrubbing in on a coronary artery bypass graft. But regardless, something about this man made you want to slow down and take your time instead of rushing him out the door.

“So what’s so special about Mr. Ten Dollar bill?” You pulled the suture through and tied a knot, moving languidly to prolong the moment.

“Everything,” he answered, accidentally moving his wounded hand to further emphasize his reply.

You instinctively grabbed him by the wrist to steady his hand.

“Yikes! Sorry, sorry, I forgot…”

With a laugh, you breathed a sigh of relief, worried some freak accident would’ve occurred had you not been quick on your feet – well, hands. “No no, it’s all good. Keep going.”

“Uh, where was I– Right, so he was just some washed up orphan, tough life, big dreams, some victories, huge mistake…”

Stitch upon stitch, you listened intently, finding yourself upstaging Mona Lisa’s smirk with your own because no matter how monotonous this procedure was, you were actually really into it. The conversation, that was, and you just kind of, sort of, maybe, perhaps didn’t want it to end.

Eventually, he wasn’t as nervous as he was when he first arrived and the conversation went from distraction to legitimate socialization.

Suddenly, his voice trailed off.

“This is probably boring to you. You don’t wanna hear about this. You probably have people talking your ear off every day. I’m sorry.” Lin gave you an apologetic smile. “You must be tired of me already.”

You look up at him and shrug, the faintest smile gracing your face. “I mean, it sounded ridiculous at first, but the more you talked about it, the more I wanted to know.”

“Don’t patronize me, it’s okay.” A grin tugged at his lips. “I’m sure you wanted silence.”

Honestly, he was partially right. You wanted nothing more than to drown out the melodies of the hustling, bustling city you called home. There was not a more arousing thought than silence. (That was sad. You were turned on by silence.)

But that was before this patient swept you up in the excitement of the story of Mr. Ten Bucks. And suddenly, you were okay with hearing him drone on and on.

With a shake of your head, you smiled up at him. “I was actually enjoying the conversation.”

“Well anyway, that’s the gist of it. I’ll spare you of the rest of my commentary.” He shot you a sheepish smile and laughed under his breath. “Weird concept, huh?”

“I dig it!” you replied with an enthusiastic nod. Sure, it sounded absurd, but the way he described it to you made it seem like brilliance was brewing. “I want tickets to the show when it’s done. Front and center. I’m gonna be like, ‘Yeah, I fixed up his hand!’

A laugh fell from his lips and he met your eyes. “You’re cute, Doc.”

Oh, there you went with the blushing. You felt the heat radiating from your cheeks and you broke away from his gaze, fearing your quickly reddening face would be noticed. Eyes focused on the task still at hand, you continued to close up the wound.

“I lucked out here in the ER.”

You could practically feel his eyes still on you, and the silly grin on his face made your cheeks flame up even more.

“Look!” You gesticulated a mock presentation of his newly stitched up hand and flashed him your pearly whites, trying to change the subject. “Not bad at all, right?”

He brought his hand up closer to his face and examined it with fascination mixed with a twinge of disgust. “How Frankenstein’s monster-esque.”

You reached out for his hand after giving him a few moments to gawk at it and started to wrap it up with the roll of gauze, finishing it up with a knot. Cleaning up your station, you watched Lin’s reaction and couldn’t help but laugh a little. What a relief, you were finally done.

“It’s shouldn’t scar though, so if you were worried about having aesthetically pleasing hands, those stitches won’t hinder you from pursuing a hand modeling career.”

“Thank you,” he said with a sincere smile. “This was a surprisingly positive experience for me.”

“Well, it was my pleasure. And thank you for educating me on America’s history.”

“It was my pleasure educating a beautiful doctor who won’t, in any way, shape, or form, have any use of her new knowledge of America’s boastful founding father.”

Damn him, he was too charming. Those mesmerizing eyes, tousled dark locks, it almost seemed like he was flirting – No, stop it. You’re exhausted. That’s all it was. Exhaustion. Delusion.

A yawn was making its way out of your mouth and you couldn’t help but let it out and stretch along with it.

“Early shift, huh?” He asked, the grin on his face unwavering. “I get that.”

“Actually, I’m on my way out.”

Saying those words lifted the weight off your shoulders, the contours of your body already feeling the warmth of your bed, your head already sensing the softness of your pillow, your mind already imagining the sensation of rest.

His face fell and his cheeks turned a bright shade of red. “Oh God, and here I was, talking your ear off for about an hour and–”

“Don’t even worry about it!” You waved him off and shook your head fervently. “It’s my job. I chose this life. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I would’ve just kept my mouth shut had I known.”

“Please don’t feel bad, I’m totally fine. It’s okay, I promise!” You pulled the gloves off your hand and threw them away before putting a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to assuage his worries. “Let me just slide out of here to write you a prescription and you can go home, okay?”

He nodded wordlessly and watched you walk out of the room.

A quick note on the pad and a grab of a handful of gauze and antibacterial cream later, you made your way back into Room 17.

“I’m ba-ack.” You sang as you swung open the door. “Okay, this is for 800 milligram Ibuprofen for pain if need be, and here are some supplies to keep that cut clean and covered, okay?”

There was a brief moment of quiet between the two of you.

He broke the silence.

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No,” you shrugged. “I was gonna tackle that issue after work.”

“Can I take you to breakfast?” He asked without missing a beat, cocking his head slightly to the side, eagerly anticipating your response.

What. That was not something you could do. Doctors were not to affiliate themselves with patients they’re currently treating outside of medical reasons.

Wait a damn minute. He was flirting. And you, stupid you, chalked it all up to merely hallucinating because you were so sleep deprived but –

“Sure,” you replied with a quick nod and a bashful smile plastered on your face, your mind not even comprehending that your mouth decided it was best to jump the gun. “I’d like that.”

And plus, technically, you weren’t even treating him anymore. Your job was done. You patched him up, told him how to care for it, and sent him on his way. His primary care physician was in charge of the follow-up. You were in the clear.

“I’m glad,” he stood up from the bed and grabbed the supplies you gave him and stuffed them in his front pocket. “Should I just… wait in the lobby then?”

“Um, well, the nurse will come in with your discharge papers and he’ll go over what the next few weeks are gonna be like. The game plan for your hand and what not. That should give me enough time to head downstairs to change really quickly and I’ll meet you back up here. Is that okay?”

Lin grinned at you. “Absolutely. I can’t wait.”

And with that, you hurriedly walked towards the elevators and rushed to down to the resident lockers. You frantically stripped yourself of forty-one hours’ worth of stress, sweat, blood, and other bodily fluids and changed into comfy leggings, a black tank top, and a flannel to tie it all together. Messenger bag slung over your shoulder and across your body, you approached the mirror hung behind the door, examining your hair, ensuring you were, at the very least, presentable at this point.

Well, you thought to yourself. This’ll have to do.

You met back up with Lin in Room 17, peeking your head through the door with a faint smile. “Hey, all done?”

“All done,” he replied with a nod. “Ready?”

As I’ll ever be, you thought. “Ready.”

Imagine your pregnant and always craving chocolate but because of Loki’s sweet tooth, you have to keep your stash hidden. You wake up in the middle of the night to get some and find Loki with the bag in his lap and he’s eaten it all. “In my defence, you were sleeping.” 

You cross your arms and glare at him with narrowed eyes. “That’s the third bag this month!”

 He squirms in his seat then gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “I’m sorry Darling. You love me don’t you?”

 “You do this one more time and the only thing those puppy dog eyes will gain you is the dog house!”


get to know me meme: [3/20] tv shows ♡ bbc sherlock 

I know what you could become, because I know who you really are: a junky who solves crimes to get high, and the doctor who never came home from the war. Will you listen to me? Who you really are, it doesn’t matter. It’s all about the legend, the stories, the adventures. There is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. There is a final court of appeal for everyone. When life gets too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. When all else fails, there are two men sitting arguing in a scruffy flat like they’ve always been there, and they always will. The best and wisest men I have ever known, the Baker Street boys, Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson.


I was auditioning for three older brothers. I didn’t get much of a description or anything about him. It was during the last six-hour audition that [casting director] Frank Moiselle came down to me and told me ‘can you read for Ivar?’. I was feeling like — I won’t say the word — but I was sitting there reading the scene for half an hour, and then I got up in front of [showrunner] Michael Hirst, [executive producer] Morgan O’Sullivan, all of the big guns were there. I did the scene that I just learned, and I screwed up the first couple of times but on the third time I got it right. I really didn’t know anything about Ivar until I got the part out of nowhere. It wasn’t until my agent told me that I got the part that [I knew], and I had to ask ‘which one’ because I really didn’t know. The first three weeks of preparing to shoot, I was calling around in my hotel room, trying to figure out what his mannerisms were and picking up a lot from Travis just by watching the show. I had researched a little bit about the character and read a lot of theories about where his name came from. I’m glad that Michael Hirst went with the Osteogenesis Imperfecta. You gotta go with the solution that brings the most to the table drama-wise. I’m just very fortunate to play this part, and it’s so challenging — but every time it’s challenging, it’s fun.

nowhere to run, part 1

Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Reader
Rating: T (for this chapter, M for the series overall)
Words: 1800
Summary: After escaping from Arkham, Jerome needs somewhere to hide out while the police search for him. Fortunately, there’s one person in Gotham he knows he can always count on. Well…maybe.

Nowhere to run to, baby, nowhere to hide
It’s not love I’m running from
It’s the heartbreak I know will come

Keep reading

Dating Mycroft Would Include
  • Awkward but cute first dates
  • Him giving you a weapon-umbrella for your birthday
  • And you forgetting which umbrella it was so you accidentally bring it to work one day
  • And your coworker borrows it for lunch
  • Using his government position to keep your safe at all times
  • Putting you above the country every time
  • Him introducing you to Sherlock who proceeds to ask you “why the hell would you want to date him
  • Sherlock trying to third wheel on all your dates
  • Lots and lots of brunch dates
  • Cuddling by the fireplace while watching movies
  • Having intelligent conversations
  • Which lead to sassy arguments
  • Lots of forehead kisses
  • “You are the most important thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N”
  • Falling for each other fast
  • Him always being loyal to you
  • You always being loyal to him
  • True happiness 

Originally posted by bbcsherlockimagines

Alrighty since the McCree and Hanzo charms where popular enough I did make a Soldier 76 and Reaper charm! Who wouldn’t want these adorable murder dad by their side? Both will be double-sided and 2″ printed on clear acrylic. Each will have their respected color phone straps, Reaper’s being edgy black and Soldier 76 having biotic field gold. 

They will also be 12 USD a piece or 20 USD bundled together.

The pre-orders will be going until March 10th 12AM (CST) and they will be released some time after that after I’ve put in the order for them.

Though if you don’t want to pay for a pre-order, you can message me saying you’re interested and I will keep you on a holding list, though I plan on including a pre-order bonus, I just haven’t decided what.  

You can find these cute little guys on pre-order here or you can message me here

Also, if these go well there will be a third set! One with a certain angel and cyborg we all love.

Imo, one of the best things about Rainbow’s books is that they are so easy to read because she writes so conversationally. I feel like I know Simon and Baz, I feel like they know me back. They are comfortable dropping the f-bomb and talking about wanking off (um..Baz..why…) to me and it’s amazing because I really do feel like I’m with them. I really do feel like a creepy third wheeler all the damn time and it’s awesome. I love being the Snowbaz third wheeler

anonymous asked:

Could we get Prompto and s/o's child going back in time as well? c: Your guys' writing is amazing, by the way <3

*Takes deep breath*

Alright. I heard y’all. I heard ya. And because I heard ya it took me forever to write this because I wanted it to be perfect. 

First, it makes me so happy to see how much you guys have enjoyed the OC children. I’m having an absolute blast writing them. Huge shoutout to the anon who started it all. Second, there’s some kid/kid shipping in this one— so prepare yo selves!

Third, I’ve been thinking about it and if by chance, you guys want additional content with the children and want to suggest prompts including them, then please do! I don’t think I’m ready to let go of these bbys just yet. ;_;

(For timeline purposes, this takes place shortly before Ignis’ prompt)

Enjoy my lovelies~


Read Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio here!

When you meet her it’s not in the heat of battle, it’s not just before the end of the world— it’s by a stroke of luck— or fate if you will, that you even see her at all.

Only Prompto, Ignis, and yourself are traveling by chococbos through the southern region of Duscae one cloudy afternoon. Noctis has been suffering from terrible migraines as of late and it’s becoming clear that they’re correlated with the sleeping Astral underneath the meteor. It’s the only reason why you haven’t yet left for Lestallum— he had taken a terrible hit by an Iron Giant the previous night; the pain in his head impairing his defenses.

“You sure it’s around here, Iggy?” Prompto asks, fidgeting as he struggles to control the bird beneath him.

Keep reading

Don’t Cry // Jack Maynard

Word Count- 637


Hi love, Can you do an imagine with jack that he and the reader get into a huge fight and he makes her cry? Thank you!! Xx

A/N- so so so sorry this took so long. also sorry it’s short. i hope it’s what you wanted anon :)


“All I asked was for you to come out with us!” Jack shouted at you.

“And I said I didn’t want to! Is that not a good enough reason?” you questioned.

You two had been arguing for the past 30 minutes. Jack wanted to go out for the third time this week but you wanted to stay in and cuddle.

“You’re so frustrating!” he barked. “Just do one thing for me Y/n! One bloody thing.”

“Why can’t you just go out alone?” you sighed in annoyance.

“Well I’m sorry that I want to spend the night with my girlfriend,” he stated as he sat down, running a hand through his hair.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go out,” you said under your breath.

“What did you just say?” his head snapped towards you.

“If you want to spend time with me, why do you want to go to the club?  Why can’t you spend them with me alone, at home?” you stared at him.

“Cuz it’s boring!”

“Wow, so spending time doing what I want to do is annoying?” you stepped back, clearly offended.

“Yes! Why don’t you want to go out and have fun like the other girls?!” his facial expression showed that he immediately realized he fucked up.

“What did you just say?” you stepped back once again.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean it,” he stood up, slowly approaching you.

“Get out,” you said quietly, the tears falling from your eyes.

“Y/n, please. You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Get. Out.” You said louder, not looking in his eyes.

“Okay,” you put his hands up defensively. “But you can’t say I didn’t try.”

“Excuse me?!?” you shrieked.

“Well you’re overreacting. I tried apologizing, now it’s on you,” he stared at you, completely serious.

“You just told me, your fucking girlfriend, that you wished I was ‘more like the other girls’,” you used your fingers as quotation marks. “So my bad that in a little pissed off.”

“I tried to apologize.”

“I’m not going to immediately forgive you for something like that! It takes time, but honestly right now I’m thinking you don’t deserve it.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, suddenly worried.

“It means that we,” you pointed between the two of you. “Are over.”

“Wait,” he walked towards you.

“No. You showed me how you really feel about this relationship,” you said as you wiped away the tears and held your head up high, trying oh so hard to not break down. “So, get out. We’re over Jack.”

“Y/n,” he sighed. “Don’t do this.”

“Why? So in a few days you can tell me that I’m boring and not like your exes again? No thanks.”

“Please,” he knelt in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You instinctively put your hands in his hair. “Don’t do this. You’re the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Jack,” you said, tears falling once more. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“I promise that we can do better. I’ll try harder. I just can’t lose you,” he stood up, putting his hands on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry Jack. I just can’t. I’m tired of being hurt, I need someone who will love me for me,” the tears continued falling but this time Jack was there to wipe away your tears.

“Please, Y/n. I can be that person. I’m sorry that I haven’t. But I promise that from now on, I will not judge you.”

You looked at him. It was then that you realized, he was crying as well.

“Don’t cry,” you gave him a sad smile as you wipe away one of his tears.

“I just lost the love of my life, I can’t not cry.”

“You didn’t lose me,” you smiled.

“I won’t mess this up,” he sighed in relief.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”