this cluttered mess

annabeth chase who:
  • hasn’t read a book for fun in years because aside from lack of motivation, the swimming letters and jumbled words makes it hard for her to enjoy it
  • suffers from short-term memory loss — she’ll walk into a room and forget why she went there, or she’ll go into a book to fact-check something and can’t recall why she’s even flipping through the pages a minute later. sometimes she can’t remember whether she ate breakfast or not.
  • constantly misplaces her things, which is a result of her being disorganized — like shoving an assignment into the wrong binder when she’s in a hurry or can’t be bothered, or taking her phone into the kitchen and somehow finding it in the food pantry 20 minutes later
  • can’t keep her room clean for more than a few days before it’s a mess again, cluttered with textbooks and sketchpads and clothing littering the floor and shoved into the corners
  • never fails to procrastinate on her assignments, no matter how small. you could give her a whole year and she would still wait till the last minute
  • has trouble staying focused and often loses her train of thought — she could be giving a meticulously thought out explanation on something she’s passionate about and just completely go blank
  • will stare at the pages of her stupid textbook with tears of frustration in her eyes, silently begging herself to just focus because this reading was supposed to have been done weeks ago, but no matter how hard she tries the text on the page won’t stop jumping around
  • goes days and days without brushing/washing her hair and wears the same clothes for a whole week
  • becomes anxious and irritable at small things like a ticking clock or the beeping sound the smoke detector makes when its battery needs to be changed
  • gets sudden bursts of inspiration to start a completely new project at the most inappropriate times, like during an important lecture or at 1 am when she should be writing an essay that’s due the next morning.
  • because of this she ends up with a lot of incomplete works-in-progress and half-assed assignments
  • absolutely despises school and gets anxiety thinking about going back to class come sunday night
  • pretends to embrace the fact that people think she is “scary” and “intimidating” but after years of hearing it becomes very insecure — she wishes she were the first person to come to peoples’ minds when they think of someone nice and friendly.
  • is constantly insecure and ashamed of herself because she’s supposed to be debunking that stupid ‘dumb blonde’ stereotype but wonders if she’s only encouraging it when she looks back at her slip-ups/flubs during conversations and small mistakes on tests and terrible first impressions she’s made and every single impulsive decision she made that went wrong and— what kind of Athena kid is she?
Magic Shenanigins

Context: We were playing a session of 5e, the group consisted of a CN Female Aventi Bard (Aventis being an aquatic variant of Humans from 3.5, played by me), a CN Male Half Dragon Turtle/ Half elf ranger, a NG Male Wood Elf Monk, and a LE Female Human Cleric of some homebrewed deity. None of us liked the Electrum currency, but I hated it with a passion. We were in port after having fled from a kraken we had luckily spotted before it was able to attack us due to my trident of warning. While everyone was resting back on the ship, they decided to send me off to find some waterbreathing potions because we were going to look for a shipwreck later.

DM: You see a small, unassuming building with a small sign hanging from it that says “Discount Magic Shop”

Me: I’ll go inside I suppose.

DM: Okay. As you walk inside, you see a cluttered mess of items and shelves. While you take in the mess before you, a small elderly gnome appears behind the counter.

Gnome (DM): “Can I help you Missy?”

Me: “Yeah, do you have any potions of waterbreathing? I recently learned that my friends cant breathe underwater.”

Gnome: “Yes, I do. That’ll be 75 gold per bottle.”

I had forgotten my money pouch back on the ship and only had a single Electrum piece with me. The Gnome and I struck up a conversation about Electrum and soon discovered our mutual disdain for the useless piece of coin. One thing lead to another and I ended up convincing him to awaken the electrum piece.

My DM decided that the electrum piece would be shocked at its sudden sentience and would do nothing but scream when taken out of my money pouch. So, I returned to the ship empty handed and was immediately given the third degree about my lack of waterbreathing potions. I told the group that I had forgotten my money but I had convinced the shopkeep to awaken my electrum piece. Suffice to say, my group was disappointed. Later on, we were getting ready to leave and they had sent me to pay the dock master (they made sure I had my coin purse). On the way their, I was pickpocketed without my knowing and didn’t realize until I had arrived at the dock masters office because I heard a distinctly familiar screaming sound and, a few moments later, a young man came into view and threw my coin purse at me.

Young Man: “Make it stop! I cant take the screaming anymore!”

Me: “Shh, shh. I cant make it stop, only you can do that. You see, you have angered my Goddess and she is a petty, vindictive Goddess and will only lift the curse if you make the proper offering.”

DM: Make a deception check.

Me: *rolls* 27

DM: He nods his head rapidly and asks what the proper offering is.

Me: “In your case, she demands a full return of what was stolen as well as an offering of equal value to her. That would be around 5000 gold.”

DM: “I don’t have that kind of money. I could barely do half that!”

Me: “Tell you what, give me my stuff back and 2500 and I’ll see what I can do.”

DM: He hands you your money back and takes you to the end of the docks where he pulls up a rope with a large sack tied to the end. He hands you the sack and asks you what happens now.

Me: “Now, we wait. If she accepts the offering the screaming will stop. If not…” I would like to close my money pouch to stop the screaming without him knowing.

DM" Make a sleight of hand check.

Me: *rolls* Nat 20!

DM: Yeah, you kinda just shake your waist a little and the screaming stops as the electrum piece is covered by the rest of your money.

Me: “She has accepted your offering. I will have to take this to her church so the proper rites can be recited and then given to her.”

I successfully conned a man out of 2500 gold because of that electrum piece. I later went on active cons with that piece of electrum until my DM finally got tired of me and had my Goddess punish me for using her name as part of cheap ploys to obtain money. I offered her half of the accumulated wealth and the Electrum piece as my way of begging for my life. That electrum piece has shown up in many of our games after that.


Kitchen, Dining and Living Room…

Hi! @yankasmiles I received the pins and your card (with a cute yam sticker!!! 😆😍) today! ❤️❤️❤️ I hope to see more of your artworks in the future, and to meet you in person. I’m still sad that I couldn’t meet you in ACX this July because of my health problems, but receiving this makes me happy, especially today! Thank you so much!

skymurdock  asked:

psst! thoughts on Lyra Erso, especially what you think might've happened if she had somehow survived? does she get to meet Beru and Breha, do they form a little club of middle-aged women in the Rebellion?

The crystal was…interesting. 

Breha had wandered over to the cluttered table out of vague interest—amid the looming structures and finicky-looking equipment, the table was the only thing she trusted herself not to damage. It was a chaotic mess, tools and rock samples and notes scrawled on flimsi all scattered, stacked haphazardly. But Breha’s gaze had been drawn to the innocuous white crystal immediately. She couldn’t help picking it up, turning it over in her hand. Someone had drilled a hole through one end, and threaded a cord through it, as though it was meant to be worn as a pendant.

It felt oddly warm against her skin, like something living.

Breha thought of Leia inexplicably, and for a moment she panicked—but Leia was fine, stuck in yet another strategy meeting. She would be there in the mess for dinner, probably arguing with Captain Solo, or trying to bite back a grin as Luke teased Lieutenant Antilles. Leia was fine. She was—

Breha startled at the sound of a loud grunt, too-close behind her. When she whirled around there was a helmeted sentient sticking out of what had previously been a gaping hole in the ground. The faint sound of hammering, voices, could still be heard drifting up from depths unknown.

“Oh!” the human woman—at least, Breha was reasonably sure; it was hard to tell under the layer of grime—said. She hauled herself up and out of the hole, stumbled to her feet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was here. Have you been waiting long?”

“Only a moment or so,” Breha demurred. Now that she could see all of her, the sentient was definitely a human woman, dressed in something that may have, at one time, been a Rebel uniform. (It was encrusted with entirely too much dirt to be called that anymore.) She had repurposed a blaster bandolier, and stuck it full of what looked like laserscopes and spectrographs. 

There was a pickax at her hip.

Breha cleared her throat, tried again. “I was told Lyra Erso—”

“You must be with Acquisitions! They said someone would be coming by for the wishlist.”

“It’s not a wishlist,” Breha said, but she couldn’t summon her usual fierceness, the accompanying lecture about the importance of resource planning. 

So this was Lyra Erso.

Your husband killed my husband, Breha thought dizzily. She’d forgotten how to breathe, what came after exhale.

“Yes, yes,” Lyra Erso said, waving a hand dismissively. She had come to stand beside Breha, and was sifting through the cluttered mess of the desk with purpose. “I swear on the Force, the Rebellion has become almost as bad as the Order was when it comes to paperwork…”

Breha blinked. “The Order?”

Lyra Erso froze, a sheaf of flimsi in her hand. Breha watched a complicated expression flicker across her face, and then slide away. “Oh. That’s—I mean the Jedi Order,” she finally said, stiltedly. “I was…a youngling. At the temple on Coruscant. In another life.”

Now that Breha was looking, she could see that the lines around Lyra Erso’s mouth, her eyes, were not cracks in the dirt—she had to be just older than Breha, and that was a strange thought, that Galen Erso’s widow was the same age as Bail Organa’s.

“AgriCorps?” Breha hazarded. She wasn’t sure if there was a politer way to say, so you never made it to padawan.

“Engineering division. Mining geology and geoengineering, mainly.” Lyra Erso straightened up, and looked Breha in the eye. “You?”

“I was not in the AgriCorps,” Breha retorted dryly. Lyra Erso pulled a face, and Breha found herself adding, “But I knew many Jedi.”

“Ah. From Coruscant, then?”

“Alderaan,” Breha said, and Lyra Erso jerked, stumbling a few steps back, away from Breha. All the blood had drained from her face, and Breha watched her throat work as she swallowed.


“My husband was a senator on Coruscant for many years, though, and counted some of the High Councilors his friends.”

“I know,” Lyra said weakly. She looked as though she wasn’t breathing. “I—heard stories of Senator Organa. Though more from…My husband was a engineer. He worked on military contracts, so he—”

“I am aware,” Breha said, and she wasn’t able to keep the ice and fury out of her voice this time, not entirely. Lyra flinched.

Keep reading

“Jared don’t snapachat this!” Connor Murphy x reader

concept: Connor is getting out the hospital and Cynthia blames you for his suicide attempt. 
warnings: swearing, suicide mention, and slight make out ;)

(also not proof read, sorry sorry) 

word count: 1000-ish

It had been a week.

A week without connor, the closest person to you.

He was finally  home, and despite Cynthia’s wishes you made a vow to go see him. You waited too long not to. You still remembered the time you tried to go see him.


You could smell the hospital from miles away. The thick scent of death and decay. You tried to keep a smile as you walked down the hall. You Tried to ignore the people in a the rooms you passed. You did all you could to make this about seeing connor and nothing else.

As soon as you entered the room, you could see his family in his room. You knocked slowly, laying some flowers down on his lap. Your Heart broke at the sight of him helpless in the hospital bed. His features still looked so elegant under the florescent hospital lights. Even though he looked so helpless he looked so beautiful.

Zoe hugged you speaking softly “Thanks for coming.” you hugged Evan and made your way to greet Mrs.Murphy. Instantly her expression changed from sorrow to rage.

“I want you out.” she said not even looking at you. You backed up slowly looking at a shocked Zoe. Mr. Murphy brought his hand to the bridge of his nose.

“Cynthia, we’re going to talk about this when Connor is better.”

“No we arent. Youre not allowed anywhere near my son!” she said pointing at you.

“Mrs. Murphy, please-”

“No. you think it’s funny that you were the only person he mentioned in the note? You were the one who caused all of this, regardless of what anyone else here thinks.” she said raising her tone a bit. Up until this point,all you knew was that connor tried to kill himself, you knew nothing of a note or anything in it.

You held back tears as you slowly left the room. You waved bye to connor as if he was conscience and made your way out the hospital.

flash foreword  

You waited all day for Cynthia to leave the house. You knew showing up to see Connor while she was there was a no go. As soon as her car left you made your way to the front door. Of course it was locked.

Time. for. Plan. B

You made your way to the back of the house and climbed through the small basement window. The thick dust of old photographs and keepsakes filled the air. Your hands caked with dust as you closed the window seal. You wiped your hands on your pants and made your way up creaking stairs.

You checked one more time to make sure the coast was clear before walking to Connor’s room.

You gulped as you clutched the doorknob and entered. His back was turned so it was facing you.

“Mom.. i don’t need anything.” he said not bothering to see who it really was.

Usually the room was dark with only a small lamp on a bedside table on. Black clothing scattered across the floor. It wasn’t clean, but not dirty either. Just a perfect mix of messy and slightly organized.

However,it seemed as if cynthia took the time to clean his while he was away. The curtains were pulled open, and there was no trace of mess or clutter anymore.

The best part was his bed. It was constant. covered in dark colored sheets and puffy blankets. You wasted no time jumping into it. Wrapping your arms around the boys body. Sinking into him.

“(y/n)..?” he said turning around facing you. He clutched you close to his chest.

“I missed you.” he said sinking in your hair.

“I missed you too. Your mom wouldn’t let me see you.” he stroked your hair and began apologizing.

“Connor it’s not your fault that your mom cares.”

“Well it’s not her fault i’m fucked up either”

You pulled away to cup his face. “You’re not fucked up” you said looking him dead in the eyes.  “Then why can’t i be fixed?” he said finally starting to cry.

“Nobody can fix you because you aren’t broken. You have depression, a chemical imbalance. Nobody can fix you, but we can all be here when you have a bad day. I can’t keep you here, even if i want you here” a tear dropped down your cheek softly. “I know you’re going threw some shit nobody really gets, so i won’t ask you to promise me you’ll stay alive or quit smoking, but promise you’ll talk to me next time”

You felt him bring your body closer to him. “I love you” he spoke, the words sounding like honey leaving his lips. Each smooth word imprinting on the red coating your face.

“I promise” he said smiling. The first smile you’ve seen in awhile.

He kissed you softly, placing his hands on your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the boy holding your face.

You both jumped at the sound of the front door opening. You tried sliding out the bed, only to be held back by the arm snaked around your waist.

“Con!” you yelled as he pulled you back. Holding you firmly from behind. He beath on your neck. You could feel him press his lip against it slightly. He planted soft kisses as you felt the air get heavy again.

“Con.. that could be your mom- your mom hates me, i think she would hate me more if she knew i broke in to see her son-” you gasped as his hand snaked under your shirt.

“Don’t go.. I missed you~” he sang just behind your ear.  You giggled again blushing against him.

Just as connor pulled you onto his lap, the door flung open.

“Connor how are you- OH LORD” Zoe spoke covering Evans eyes.

Evan practically died as Jared pulled out his phone “Please continue” he said opening snapchat.

“Jared put the phone away or im gunna make you swallow it” 

Erised (Remus Lupin x Reader)

a/n: i’ve been writing so much it’s insane. here’s another remus oneshot because im garbage. enjoy y’all!!

 WORD COUNT: 1,467 


The room was cluttered, so much so that Y/N could barely make her way around. She had found the room during one of her nightly wanderings, and could always count on finding something new. This being her second year at Hogwarts, and her umpteenth visit to the room, Y/N was sure that she had found everything supremely interesting there was to be found in the Room of Requirement. 

 She learned how wrong she was when she found herself walking face-first into a large mirror, it’s golden, clawed trim giving way to the vast expanse of glass. However, when Y/N looked up and met her own eyes, her reflection wasn’t alone. 

Staring back at her were, unmistakably, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Y/N’s eyes widened and her heart ached as she looked at the boys from her house who had ostracized her when she had attempted to be friends. Assuming they were there to taunt her for wandering on her own in the middle of the night, Y/N turned to face them. But when she turned around, there was no-one there. 

 Confused and kind of frightened, Y/N turned back to the mirror. James Potter was smiling, his eyes inviting as opposed to their normal cruel glint when she tried to speak to him. Sirius was stood on Y/N’s other side, his normally mean smirk softened into a mischievous one. Peter sat on the floor in front of Y/N, smiling and waving. On his own, he was normally kind, but with James and Sirius around, he tended to follow whatever they did. 

 The image of the last boy had young Y/N blushing beet-red. Remus Lupin stood next to her, smiling shyly as he normally did, with his hand wrapped around Y/N’s own. 

That was how the feud between Y/N and the four- well, three, really, as Remus was never very cruel- boys had started. Y/N had always been taught to speak her mind, so when she developed a sweet crush on Remus in first year, she told him. Y/N had marched right up to the lanky boy and told him to his face that she had a crush on him and wanted to be friends. He had blushed so hard he was practically glowing, and had stuttered out that he was flattered. His friends, on the other hand, had laughed. Not the kind of amicable laugh that Y/N had expected, but a cruel ‘how-could-you-ever-expect-to-be-friends-with-us’ laugh.

Y/N had left the common room and ran into her dorm, throwing herself onto her bed in tears. She was only comforted when Lily Evans had come upstairs and comforted her, telling her how all of them were nothing but foul toerags. Since then, the four had taunted and made fun of Y/N whenever they saw her. When she had written her parents, they had told her that was how boys just acted at that age. Y/N supposed that may be true, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Y/N had been staring into the mirror for hours, upset that she still so wanted to be friends with the four boys who made her cry so often. Eventually, Y/N tore her eyes from the mirror, steeling herself as much as a twelve year old could. She wouldn’t do this anymore. She wouldn’t let those, what did Lily call them? Toerags. She wouldn’t let those toerags ruin her time at Hogwarts anymore. Y/N took a final glance at the mirror before making her way out of the Room of Requirement, hoping that whatever the mirror showed her next time was different.


 Years later, the beginning of her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Y/N found herself yet again walking the corridors late at night. This time, however, she wasn’t alone. She was joined by her best friend since second term of second year, Remus Lupin. 

After Y/N had taken to ignoring the self-proclaimed ‘Marauders’, they had been off-put. A month of ignoring them later, Y/N had four boys cornering her in the corridor. Initially, she had been scared. But then Remus shoved Sirius forward, and one by one, they all apologized to her and asked to start over. The words were obviously rehearsed and obviously Remus’, but Y/N had accepted their apologies with as much grace as she could. Weeks and several more off-handed, much more sincere apologies later, Y/N and the Marauders had completely made up. Still, even six years later, they still apologized whenever they were reminded of their treatment of Y/N. 

Remus and Y/N chatted amicably, having finished their prefect rounds, but opting to keep wandering although it was hours past curfew. It was a school-widely known fact that Remus Lupin and Y/N Y/L/N were completely in love with each other. Known to everyone, except the two of them themselves. It was absolutely infuriating to watch, to students and faculty alike. 

Walking along a fifth-floor corridor, Y/N took a chance glance ahead of them, and saw the shadow of a cat reflected by one of the torches on the wall. Y/N’s eyes widened and she immediately grabbed Remus’ sweater-clad arm, dragging him through the nearest door. Y/N mouthed ‘Miss Norris’ and silenced Remus’ questions with her finger over his lips. Remus tensed, blushing profusely at the contact. 

After they heard Miss Norris and Filch walk by, Y/N took her hand from Remus’ mouth and they both sighed. Y/N looked up at Remus with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry about that, Moony…" 

Remus shook his head, laughing quietly. Y/N got lost in the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and how his face, rarely ever stress-free, lit up when he smiled.

“It’s alright…” Remus cleared his throat, stepping away from Y/N when he realized that they were stood chest-to-chest. Y/N blushed, taking her wand from her robe pocket and muttering ‘lumos’. 

Remus’ brow scrunched as he grinned, excited. “Is this the Room of Requirement?”

Y/N forced her eyes away from Remus and glanced around, finding the familiar, cluttered mess of the Room of Requirement.

“Yeah…yeah I think it is. I used to come here all the time…" 

Remus kept his eyes on Y/N, who was now wandering deeper into the room, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Why’d you stop coming?“ 

Y/N paused, her brow furrowing as she recalled the image she had seen in the mirror. She wondered if it had changed. "You, Sirius, James, and Peter stopped treating me like dirt." 

Y/N turned to face Remus, who looked awfully guilty, as he always did when reminded of first year and the beginning of second year. 

"Y/N, you know that I, that all of us, are so sorry for-" 

Y/N rolled her eyes and reached for his hand, interrupting him. "Shut up, it was six years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore. Now, c'mon. I want to find something." 

After around ten minutes of wandering and two boggart encounters, Y/N and Remus found themselves behind the Mirror of Erised. Y/N spoke, startling Remus.

"I think it shows you what you desire most. When I looked last time, which was in second year, I saw you, Peter, James, and Sirius being nice to me. Kind of pathetic, now that I think about it." 

Remus’ chest tightened with more guilt, but Y/N either didn’t notice his pained expression or chose to ignore it. Remus chanced a glance down at Y/N and found her eyes focused intently on the mirror.


Snapping herself out of her brief reverie, Y/N pulled Remus around to the front of the mirror. "Yeah, sorry. Let’s go take a look." 

Allowing his curiosity to yet again get the better of him, Remus followed Y/N in front of the mirror. He expected to see Sirius, James, Peter, and Y/N. Maybe him without scars or beneath the full moon but as a human. What he got took the air from his lungs. 

He and Y/N, hand in hand. 

Y/N’s face contorted in confusion. "It’s just us…is it broken? What do you see, Rem?" 

Remus shrugged, attempting to keep a calm, confused façade. He knew it wasn’t broken, because in the mirror, his scars were gone. It seemed Y/N didn’t see this in her image. Y/N apparently saw the same thing he did, except he still had scars, which made Remus’ heart ache pleasantly as he contained his smile.

Her greatest desire was them, together. Him just as he is. 

Remus immediately felt as though he shouldn’t be seeing this. He shouldn’t want Y/N to desire him, to love him as much as he loved her. He was too dangerous and after how he and his friends had treated her, he hadn’t even deserved her forgiveness much less her love. But Remus’ heart wouldn’t stop leaping.


Remus quickly cleared his throat, nodding hastily. "I just see us. It must be broken, yeah.”


(this takes place before/during the events of Jerome’s return)

It was dark and gloomy. The way it’s always been the past months. No sun shined through your window. Your life had been nothing but a cluttered mess, ever since Jerome died. Depression was a cloud that you were sure was going to follow you for the rest of your life.

You had cried yourself to sleep only months before today. That time that Jim and Harvey took you to his grave, you thought he was there. You thought he was with you. And then realization struck your mind and you lost it. You were the only one at his funeral.

The sound of the creaking floorboards and distant talking were the only things you would hear. Laying on your back, you hummed a sad tune to yourself. However, tears no longer ran down your face. You simply couldn’t cry anymore.

“Jerome…why couldn’t I save you?” you thought to yourself. “Galavan is already dead. If only I was the one to kill him for you…if only.”

A knock on your cell door pulled you out of your thoughts. The door swung open and the guard Anderson was standing there, his hands on his belt.

“Hey psychopath! Time for lunch. Get up and let’s go.” He announced.

You only groaned in response and turned on your side to try to forget he was even there. Looking at the wall now in front of you, you only imagined Jerome being there, laying by your side, stroking your smooth (s/c) skin.

“I said, get up!” Anderson yelled, yanking you by your arm. Weak, you dropped to the floor. Anger was coursing through your veins right now, but there was nothing you could do about it. You got yourself up off the floor and looked Anderson dead in the eyes.

“Don’t do that again.” You said.

“Get into the room already. You’re my last stop. I don’t want to spend an extra minute in here with you freaks.”

You sighed, slumping your shoulders and walking into the room with the others. The guard closed the door behind you and left. You took a seat at the first bench you saw, the lunch the asylum had prepared for you was right there.

“Mmm. Sloppy Joe and a pudding cup…again. Stop it, Helena, you’re spoiling me!” You yelled at her sarcastically. She only huffed in response and continued plating other trays. Eight months and they sevred you the same food everyday.

You were already used to the sound of the other patients screaming, so you could drown out the sounds of fighting and the same lady asking you about your house, pets, favorite color, and flavor of your skin.

“Not now, Golightly!” You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, okay! Just tell me when you don’t want your skin anymore! I’ll eat the rest of you for youuuuu!” She sang rolling and jumping from table to table.

“Cannibals.” You scoffed. Besides that, she was actually pretty nice.

Just then a laugh roared from behind you. You smiled, remebering Jerome’s laugh. It was full of pure evil, yet somehow it made you melt. Something that could only make you smile.

“Sloppy Joe and pudding again? I still don’t understand how you’re not sick of it.”

“It’s better than nothing, Jervis.”

“(y/n)!” He smiled a wide smile, sitting right next to you. “How was your morning?”

“Dull.” You smiled back. “Yours?”

“Quite splendid if you ask me!”

“What kind of drugs are you on? I’ll take whatever you’re having anyday.”

“No, no, no, no, no. No drugs! They do say laughter is the best medicine!”

You chuckled a bit. Jervis turned out to be the only (in)sane one who knew exactly what you were going through.

Jervis frowned realizing you weren’t really happy. Helena came and gave him his lunch tray and he gave her a smug smile in return.

“Ah, (y/n)? How about we play a game?” He tapped his fingers on the table wildly.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the sudden suggestion, but nodded anyway.

“Great! I give you something to solve, you answer it right and maybe I’ll give you a gift!”

“What exactly am I solving?


“Alright. Rhyme away.” You laughed.

“There was a chance that they used a cryogenic cooler, what translated from Slavic means ‘glorious ruler’?”

“What? Jervis, I can’t solve that.”

“You once took a Slavic class right? Then you can solve it!” He nuged you.

“I got a C in that class!”

“Stop complaining and think!”

“Okay fine.” You began to think hard. What could he possibly have meant? Jervis was one book that no one could read. He was so complicated. But you tried to solve it anyway.

“Cyrogenic means freezing bodies right?”

“You’re close!” Jervis giggled. “Cryogenic means the deep freezing, of bodies to be exact.”

“Why are you so weird?” You giggled along.

“Come on, (y/n)! Solve the last part!”

“Alright. Uhm Slavic language. Let’s see…glorious ruler…” Your head began to hurt trying to thibk of what it would translate to. You remembered all the phrases the teacher wrote on the board. Ruler and glorious definitely weren’t up there. “…I-I don’t know Jervis.”

“If you put your mind to it…” Jervis sang.

“You can do it.” You responded. “Only I can’t do it.”

“Simple minded puny girl. It mean Valeska.” A voice from the table next to yours spoke.

“What did you say?” You asked, a bit shocked by him responding at all. Enormous Eric usually never speaks. Unless it’s about ripping bodies apart.

“Huggggh. Valeska. Glorious Ruler means Valeska where I come from! Not that hard to understand, no?”

You felt a burning sensation start through your stomach. Turning to question Jervis, you stopped as soon as your name was called.

“(f/n) (l/n)! Here’s your certificate. You’re hereby declared, sane. Free to go.”

“I don’t understand.” You shook your head slightly.

Jervis then turned your attention towards him. “You don’t need to understand dear (y/n). You’re free.” He said hugging you. “See you on the outside!”

You hugged him back, still in disbelief. Getting up from your seat and taking your certificate of sanity, you finally walked out of the doors of Arkham Asylum.

You breathed in the fresh, ice cold air letting it enter your lungs for the first time in months. Tears filled your eyes. You felt happiness for the first time in awhile.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite girl.” Barbara smirked walking up to you.

“Barbara? What are you doing here?” You smiled running up to her for a hug.

She laughed, returning the hug. “I was given orders to get you out of this hole of despair. I would’ve done it earlier, but I honestly didn’t know you were here.”

“It’s alright. I’m just glad to finally be out of there. How’s Eddie and Oswald and Tab-“

“-All fine. Now enough about them. Before we go out tonight we’re going to need to something about that smell, outfit, and maybe you should wash your hair too.” Barbara smugly smiled.

“Oh, right. Sorry about the hug, I forgot-”

“No it’s quite alright, I’ll just burn it afterwards. Anyways, off we go!” She said, urging you to get into the limo. It’s been awhile since you’ve been this comfortable.

“Thanks for coming to get me, Babs.” You smiled weakly.

“Shhh. Get some sleep, (y/n). We have a big night ahead of us.”


As soon as you got to Barbara’s place, you took a long hot shower. You let the water hit your face, smiling as the heat welcomed you. Closing your eyes, you remembered everything from the past. Your good days and your bad days. That time in kindergarten where you poured paint on the kid named George all because he didn’t say hi to you that day. You laughed at yourself.

You heard distant talking coming from outside the door.

“…worry about. I didn’t tell her. I want it to be a surprise.” Barbara said. You couldn’t hear well so you stepped out of the shower and put your ear to the door.

“…Good. She’s going to be-” Your foot accidentally made a sound and quietly cursed yourself. Footsteps began to make their way to the bathroom door and quickly got back into the shower.

“(y/n)? Are you alright in here?” Barbara asked, a little nervousness and concern could be heard in her voice.

“I’m good. I’m just about to get out now.” You said, hoping to get our fast enough to see the person that the mysterious voice belonged to.

“N-now?! Why now?! Don’t you to wash your hair or something?” Barbara leaned against the wall, losing her cool for a bit, but then quickly gaining it back.

You stepped out of the shower and she handed you a towel. “I already did that, Babs.” You laughed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled, perfect teeth and all.

“Good.” You began to walk out the door and Barbara closely followed behind, heels clacking against the floor.

“Hey, can I get ready in your room?” You asked Barbara. She didn’t hear you, due to her looking around the room for something or maybe the someone.

“Earth to Babs.”

“Oh! Of course you can. Help yourself.” She said going towards to kitchen.

You shook your head again. “Everyone is acting so weird today.” Getting to Barbara’s room, you began to dry off and then started to put on your clothes. You stopped though after you heard a breathy “whoa” come from the closet.

“Hello?” You gasped, picking up the towel and covering the front of you. You slowly walked towards the closet, hoping it was just your imagination. You began to turn the knob, when someone startled you and stopped you from doing so.

“Nice ass!” Barbara laughed.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Good. Here’s your clothes. I hope they’re comfortable enough for you… well actually come to think of it, I really don’t like that top.” She threw the ruffled forest green top on the chair and went to her closet.

You thought you heard her whisper something, but you forgot about it when she moved out of the way, and you saw no one else but her in there.

“How about this one?” She smirked. It was a (f/c) satin tank top. “These will look great with those leggings!”

“Thanks. Uhm, could I ask you something? Who exactly told you to get me out of Arkham?” You asked, eyes squinted slightly.

“That’s not important. What is important, is that you look sexy! We’re gonna have a girls night out. Just you and me. Now hurry up. There’s supposedly a little…movie starting at seven. We want to be there on time.“

An hour passed and it was already six thirty. You and Barbara were driving to this “secret location” she wouldn’t tell you about. You and her caught up with each other. You told her about Jervis and she rolled her eyes. Turns out they didn’t get along.

“Here we are and only fifteen minutes left until it’s time!” She clapped.

“In time for what?” You whined.

“I told you it’s a secret.” She booped your nose.

There were quite a few people around. Not to mention, they seemed a bit off too. This place was quite eerie, but in it’s own way it was relaxing. Colorful, dull, quiet, yet loud.

“Oh shoot. I almost forgot my phone. You go on without me. I’ll be right back.” Barbara said, walking away. You gave an okay, before continuing on through by yourself.

Barbara watched you and then got in the car. “Well. You have her where you want her.”

“All thanks to you. What is it you want in return?”

“Nothing. Her happiness is just enough for me. Take care of yourself. Oh and try not to give the poor thing a heart attack. You almost got caught in the closet.”

“It wasn’t my fault though. It’s been so long sincr I’ve seen her.”

“You still should have waited until the time was right. And speaking of time, it’s seven.”

“Of course! It’s showtime.”


You didn’t understand what was going on. Why was Jerome’s message to Gotham playing and why here? All you knew was that you wanted to leave. Barbara wasn’t here and it was starting to get frightening.

Just then a fight broke out and screaming could be heard through the entire place. You dodged a few flying chairs and made it out of there. You caught a glance of Jim and Harvey, but you decided it would be best if you didn’t let them see you.

You ran out, saving your own skin. Trying to catch your breath, you bent over your hands on your knees.

A laugh broke through the sound of the screams and made you stand up straight. “Jerome.” You sighed. You forgot, the video was still playing. With one last look behind you, you began to walk away. All of a sudden, your body shuddered with fear. You couldn’t move. “N-no.”

You wiped your eyes. “It’s just another hallucination.” You kept repeating to yourself. He couldn’t be real. You saw him die right in front of you. Looking up, you saw that a silhouette began to walk out of the darkness towards you. Right then and there, your heart sank.

“Did you miss me, doll face?

Challenge Fic: Summer Berry

@txf-fic-chicks challenge for Post Episode/ Missing Scene

Rating: Teen

Summary: Missing scene for Wetwired. “He wonders if it’s possible to be jealous of a tube of lipstick.”

Notes: one-shot, no beta. Not my usual style and I’m unsure of how I feel about it. Went in a completely different direction than I had intended.


“Is she okay?” one of the Gunmen asks, but Mulder can’t determine which one as his heartbeat drums loudly in his ears.

“No…they uh…they need me to come and identify the body.”

He can’t feel his legs as he descends the steps of the gunmen’s lair, but he knows he’s moving because the bottom of his shoes click against the dirt-tattooed cement steps as he makes his way out to his car. He slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, peeling away from the curb and nearly taking out another sedan in the process, possibly even killing someone. Just add it to his tab. Another life. Another victim caught cruelly in the webbed trap of Fox Mulder.

When he tastes the bitter iron of blood he realizes that he’s been biting his lip ever since he left the Gunmen. He reaches across the console to the glove compartment, hoping to find something to keep his teeth busy, keep his jaw from permanently locking into place as he grinds his molars with each red light that stands between him and identifying the dead body of his partner.

He rifles through the cluttered mess: a map, napkins, assorted ketchup and hot sauce packets, a condom packet (from the Regan administration no doubt), lipstick, sunflower seeds…


Tossing the seeds to the passenger seat, he fingers the textured metal of the silver cosmetics case, feeling his stomach churn with each twist of the tube between his fingers. She’d left it there by accident, and it had been a fluke he even found it. Well, he didn’t find it, the guy at the car wash did. Fallen out of her purse and rolled under the seat, most likely.

“Su esposa? Your wife’s?” the attendant had asked, and Mulder chuckled with a shake of his head in the negative.

“No. Not my wife,” he’d said, sounding far too whimsical for his own liking, but the older man had simply winked at him, handing him the lipstick.

“Special lady then,” he’d said, his brown eyes twinkling with wisdom only age could bring.

“Very,” had been his reply, surprising even him at his outright honesty.

He twists the lid from the case, watching the color emerge from inside. How many times has he watched her apply it, pretending to ignore the feminine rituals she’d performed riding shotgun next to him for the last three years? She even had a system: pencil the edges, press lips together, twist lipstick tube, rotate tube till desired tip is facing appropriate direction, one small swipe down the middle, left swipe, right swipe, long swipe along button lip, press together, purse, eye critically, repeat and reapply where necessary…

In his mind, her movements are slow and deliberate. Her tongue darts out and wets her bare lips before the color is applied, and her teeth graze the inside of her bottom lip as she examines her work in the yellow light of the small mirror. How many times has this tube passed across her lips? How many times has her tongue tasted the waxy perfume? His cock stirs in his pants, and he wonders if it’s possible to be jealous of a tube of lipstick.

The highway is remarkably clear of traffic. Not that a few cars would stop him from his distracted reverie. So what if he killed himself on the way to the county morgue? Maybe they’d put him in a drawer next to Scully. It’s probably a good thing he’s holding the lipstick, he imagines – it’s keeping his hands busy.

If his hands are busy, there’s less of a likelihood of him using his hands for other purposes like erratic steering, shaving while driving, flipping off the minivan going 50 in a 65 zone…suicide.

He blames it on curiosity when he swipes his thumb across the creamy tip of the lipstick, staining his thumb with the deep raspberry hue. It’s softer then he imagined it would be, gliding effortlessly along the warm pad of his thumb. Does it feel like this when she wears it, he wonders? Are her lips as smooth, as ripe as the Summer Berry namesake it bears?

On impulse, he brings his thumb to his mouth, letting it linger against his bottom lip.

Will her lips be the same Summer Berry color he’s grown accustomed to seeing when he identifies her body? Or will her lips be the mottled blue of death, forever frozen in a shape of horror?

Tears blur his vision as he drives down the highway, thumb pressed against lips. What a fucking vision he must be to the other drivers, some crying asshole with his thumb in his mouth.

He’d be lying if he said he’s never thought about kissing her. Maleness aside, Dana Scully has a mouth meant to be kissed, if not in its delicious fullness, then to shut her up at the very least, and it’s only when he sees the County building ahead does he realize that this is the closest he’ll ever come to kissing her– nothing more than a lipstick stain on his finger. His reflection mocks him from the shiny silver tube in his hand.

You selfish bastard. This is all your fault.

May I present “The Brandonverse”! This is literally every connection I could make from watching the super hilarious skit videos of Brandon Rogers. This includes all the mentions and appearances of characters before and after “A Day At The Park”. I worked hard to make all possible connections and make them visually readable. I mean it’s a cluttered mess but that seems appropriate for the messed world that Mr. Rogers created.

I love how other studyblrs are like “oh my desk is messy” and there is one piece of paper out of place then I’m sitting here looking at a literal mountain of pens and paper consuming my entire desk