this is going to get exactly 0 notes

I came up with a “humans as aliens” scenario on the bus and now I’m writing a story snippet.

Karikki was sitting in the ship’s mess when the most recent addition to the crew stumbled into the room and collapsed into a chair with a relieved groan, dropping her head onto the table.

“Rough shift?” ie said, making a sympathetic noise as ie broke off another piece of ir food pack.

Melanie Dupré, recently hired on as a ship’s mechanic and as of one month ago the only human crewmember of the Xanaki Star, mumbled something into the table before lifting her head so that her translator could actually be of use.

“I could swear the ventilation ducts actually hate me personally,” she said. “I’ve been running around all day.” A look of horror crossed her features then, and she groaned again, dragging her hand across her eyes. “And I left my food packs in my room. Goddamn it.”

Karikki churred soothingly. “Don’t worry about it, you can have one of ours,” ie said, getting to ir feet and digging one of the vacuum-sealed silver packs out of the pantry.

Melanie made a noise that Karikki had learned to interpret as grateful and peeled the pack open, looking down at it dubiously. “You’re sure this is okay?”

“We’re nutritionally compatible!” Karikki said. “The captain checked, before we hired you on. Just in case you ran out of your own supplies. It should be fine.”

“Okay. Thanks,” she said, breaking off a square of the compressed nutrition block and popping it into her mouth.

A look crossed her face then that it took Karikki a moment to identify: disgust, ie realized. That was disgust–which was made all the clearer when Melanie gagged and grabbed a napkin, spitting the square out into her hand. “Oh my god,” she said.

Karikki could feel ir antennae fluttering anxiously. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is that a bad texture for humans?”

Melanie wiped her mouth, scrubbing at her tongue with the side of her hand. She shook her head. “No, the texture’s fine, it’s just like one of our protein blocks. It’s the [——], I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you, but it’s awful! How can you eat that?”

Karikki flicked ir ear. “Sorry, say that again? I think your translator cut out in the middle. It’s the what?”

“The [——]. It [——] awful. I’m so sorry.”

Keep reading

listen… i want to know what exactly sirius meant when he called regulus soft. the obvious answer is that he was easily manipulated by his parents, but like. soft also means emotional. was regulus arcturus black, who singlehandedly played the dark lord and left him a dramatic fuck you note, a brooding emo teenager? is this why no one saw his betrayal coming? i cherish the aloof characterization of regulus but tbh? i will die for regulus who’s an emotional mess, who’s underestimated bc he’s not hypermasculine and uses that to his advantage to get one over voldemort and go out with a spectacular bang

Headcanon that one day, after Christine has returned from Erik’s home and after she saw his face, Christine gets a small note from the opera ghost (who she now knows is actually plainly named Erik). It simply asks if she’ll visit with him that afternoon, and that they can go on a carriage ride or stay in and enjoy music together if she should like.

Of course she doesn’t exactly want to go, but when she spots a pair of sad eyes watching her above the stage she decides to accept his invitation.

And so Christine meets Erik that afternoon in her dressing room and he’s much more talkative and almost giddy acting. After 20 minutes in his home, with Erik talking a million miles per hour and switching between trying to entertain her and showing off different objects in his home, she finally asks him bluntly why he asked her to visit today.

And then Erik gets really quiet and shy, and he won’t look at her only at the ground. Christine is afraid she has somehow upset him with her question, but then she hears him mumble, “Today is my birthday.”

He just wanted to have someone to talk to on his birthday, and there’s no one else he would rather see than her.

Serious Squareness: an exclusive interview with Lorenzo Semple, Jr. on the creation of TV’s Batman

Holy unexpected delights! I opened my Tumblr inbox the other day to find a message from @jondambacher, and, well, let me just turn it over to him:

Screenwriter Lorenzo Semple, Jr. celebrates a birthday today (March 23rd). The following is an excerpt from a number of long interviews I was blessed, honored & ecstatic to conduct in 2008, for Lorenzo’s biography I was writing.

To the King of Serious Squareness, I celebrate you, I thank you, I wish you a Happy Happy Birthday.

Jon Dambacher: I have a quote from Dozier referring to you as “the most bizarre thinker I knew.”

Lorenzo Semple: Good.

JD: Have you ever read that?

LS: I think I have, now that you mention it.

JD: What do you think he means here?

LS: I don’t know what he means. He obviously meant it as a compliment but it’s… I don’t know what he meant. I just could think of off-the-wall things. When he showed me, as I’ve told you, when I was living in Spain writing plays with a family, he sent me a cable to come up and meet him at The Ritz in Madrid there in the garden of The Ritz, he had a very strange face, as he pulled out of his pocket a “Batman” comic book. Said, “Would you believe it, this is what ABC has given us to do, because they’d owed us one, can you believe it? He was… Was so disdainful of it. I, uh, in all honesty, I took one look at it and thought of it and said, "I know exactly what to do.” I’ll go home and I’ll write it.“ That was the only discussion about "Batman.” The only discussion. As I say I wrote it, Bill loved it, he gave it to ABC, they thought it was excellent, but they were dumbfounded by it because there was nothing like it. All those things like, “Pop!” and “Bam!” were all written into the script.

JD: That’s awesome! Did you guys just share some crazy sense of humor together–is that how you were able to create this amazing…

LS: Yeah! It’s not really that crazy once you get the note of it, you know what I mean?

JD: Okay.

LS: It’s all out of that same… That dead serious nonsense, you know what I mean? Adam was actually perfect for it and Burt in his way, too. You know, they’d be chasing somebody and Robin would say, “Park here, they just went into that building…”

JD: And there’s “No Parking” signs…

LS: “No Parking” sign, right! That kind of thing. All these come out of the same level of dead serious, squareness, if you want to call it that. Dead seriously square. That was… Which isn’t that bizarre compared to modern movies, you know, like Charlie Kaufman and things.

JD: Right.

LS: It wasn’t too bizarre. Bill probably thought it was bizarre but we’ve both recognized he was a sophisticated guy. He recognized it as being funny. He didn’t mind me thinking up all these things like Bat-Shark-Repellent or whatever it was when the shark had him by the leg…

JD: Right, the Shark-Repellent-Bat Spray.

LS: I guess you could call that bizarre thinking. To me it’s all a part of one type of thinking; do you know what I mean? Bizarre isn’t quite the word, I’d say imaginative.

JD: Okay. We were talking about favorite lines from that film specifically, one that’s stuck with me over the years–I’ve always wanted to meet the man who wrote the line, “Ah, a thought strikes me–so dreadful I scarcely dare give it utterance!”

(Lorenzo breaks out laughing.)

LS: That’s very funny, I agree! I agree! That’s the kind of thing we’ve been–you know, that pompous squareness actually. Very good hearted. Adam was a very sweet guy. A very nice guy himself and Batman, you know, nobody was killed in it and there’s nothing–except the name–in common with the Batman franchise, the Warner Brothers ones. The people who say, “What do you feel about those movies” always expect me to say something, I say, “Actually I don’t like violent movies particularly and I stay away from them.” The Batman I wrote has nothing to do with these movies–really has nothing to do with each other… My Batman is more in the spirit of the comic and the very fact that millionaire Bruce Wayne, that’s all you have to say… The fact that you refer to him as Millionaire Bruce Wayne, I mean…

JD: The Millionaire Philanthropist.

LS: The Millionaire–thank you! The Millionaire Philanthropist. I had forgotten that. Just the fact that you’d refer to anybody like that–if you’re sophisticated it shows immediately–it’s ironic at best.

JD: That squareness.

LS: You’re right. That’s what I mean. The squareness, exactly.

☆What to put in your Book Of Shadows!☆

(This post is inspired by a baby witch in our Coven @andtrickfucker)

Starting as up as a witch can often be overwhelming and confusing. We’ve all been there when we sit with our grimoire, a pen out as we stare down at an empty piece of paper, a small (hypothetical) tear rolling down our face as we attempt to write something down, only to discover that we have no idea what to do and where to start. As two witches who have most definitely struggled with this before we decided that it would be very important for us to make a list to help you all out!

Firstly, we’d start out with the very basics of witchcraft! 

(Obviously according to whatever craft you do but lets just assume the general craft for now and work with what we’ve got.)

☆ Ask yourself what path you follow, what sort of craft do you practice? Is there anything specific you what to jot down about your craft? If so, note it at the start of your grimoire! It could be super helpful to you in the future.
      ☆ If you’re not an atheistic witch then you can also mention what deities you worship and those in their pantheon (unless you’re an animistic witch!)
☆ You could write about the elements and moon cycles, as some witches find this to be very important to them! 
☆ Do you have some crystals that are your favourite to work with? Write them down, and what you use them for! (We have some information about this here!)
      ☆ You can even write down how to charge and cleanse them and even how you intended to use them in spells!  
☆ Do you use a lot of herbs and plants? Write them down too! If you’re fairly arty like us don’t be afraid to do a little sketch of whatever you’re writing!
      ☆ Like crystals, you could write down when or how to use them. It doesn’t have to be detailed or complex, just do it in a way that you’ll remember or understand!
☆ Candles are often important too, so (even if you’re not particularly interested in candle magic) it might be helpful to have them in there as well. If you write their correspondences down too, it’ll save you a bunch of time looking through the internet for their meaning, trust me.


Do you practice divination and spirit work?

☆Tarot references can be helpful, especially if you don’t have a book to learn or work from! You could even write down the results of your tarot readings, keeping a note of exactly what you’ve been pulling and how you’ve been doing reading wise!(You might wanna ask for permission if you’re going to write about readings you’ve done on others though!) 
☆ How to use a crystal ball, if you have one!
☆ How to sense auras and what they mean.
☆ If you use rune stones it might be helpful for you to write down their names and meanings!(Wilde uses runes a lot and had to do this because she gets confused and forgets the meanings of runes almost 24/7) Again, if you want, you can write about the outcomes of your readings.
☆ How to use a pendulum.


Spell work

☆ An inventory of different salts, herbs and crystals; branching away from your most used and favourites! you never know, one might catch your eye!
☆ Different types of spells (clearly)! We find it helps if you split them up categorically but if you don’t want to then don’t do it! Write down your hexes, curses, charms and your run of the mill spells, especially ones that you’ve written yourself!


Miscellaneous

☆ How to make sigils and the sigils themselves!
        ☆ If you use other peoples sigils write them down with there meanings too, that way you don’t forget or you don’t use a sigil that you wanted to work with later on!
☆ Notes on how you feel or your specific emotions. This is important because emotions can obviously influence and change the way spells and sigils work! 
☆ Do you use astrology? Write down the zodiac signs and their correspondences, along with the stars, the planets and everything in between!
☆ How to meditate and the benefits of meditation.
☆ Types of salts and their purposes.
☆ How to make different types of oils.
☆ How to make different types of waters!
☆ How to make your own candles.
☆ How to make your own salves!
☆ A magical cookbook!


Remember! Your grimoire doesn’t have to look perfect (Quinn’s is an absolute state) As long as it holds the information you need and as long as you can read it that’s the only thing that matters!

As suggested by @maikawethiel make a digital version to keep with you at all times! You can do this via word online, google documents or even evernote which you can then download onto a portable device! This can be handy for emergancy situations too!

I know this isn’t everything you could possibly put in your grimoire however feel free to reblog and add to it!! Blessed be! -Wilde and Quinn

hamilton headcannons - bookstore edition!
  • aaron
    - walks in knowing exactly what he wants
    - only buys one book. john always tries to get him to buy more but aaron insists he already has too many (which isn’t true; he doesn’t have many books because he likes to reread the same ones over and over)
    - he also likes to note lines/sections that he really likes with multi-colored post it notes. the more post its a book has, the more often he rereads it
  • john
    - will go directly to the graphic novel/comic book section
    - ends up on the floor surrounded by comics
    - spends the entire time reading them and ends up buying every one
    - if he has the funds he usually will buy a book or two regarding social issues ( he doesn’t stock up though because he’ll sneak one from angelica’s collection here and there)
  • lafayette
    - usually interested in the biography section
    - grabs a handful that seem interesting to him (sometimes he’ll find several biographies on the same person)
    - often shares fun facts abt the people he reads about at random times (“did you know frida kahlo could drink any man under the table?”)
    - finds a corner to read the first few chapters of each one
    - only ends up buying one but writes down the names of the rest so he can come back and buy them
    - if he’s done before everyone else he’ll get a coffee at the café with peggy
  • hercules
    - wanders around the store for a little while
    - makes his way to the kids section
    - ends up sitting on a colorful carpet and reads children’s books to the kids (he spends the entire time back there)
    - his favorites are the quiet noisy book and any Dr. Seuss book
    - he always uses different voices for each character in the book (he gets really into it - the kids love listening to him read and some parents even join in to listen too)
  • alexander
    - spends so much time in the store
    - gets a few books from every genre
    - ends up spending way too much money in one trip
    - his bookshelves are already overflowing yet he promises that he’ll read every book (he won’t)
    - he prefers nonfiction but will sometimes find an amazing fiction book that he rereads over and over
    - angelica scolds him, telling him he’s “wasting his money” (alex ignores her but deep down knows she’s right) (she always is)
  • george
    - is basically in the same boat as aaron
    - knows what he wants, buys it, and is done
    - sits beside aaron and reads while everyone else is busy
    - disapproves of aaron’s pick, calling it “boring” (little does he know aaron secretly bought a romance novel to read at home but he doesn’t want anyone to know about it. the notebook is a weakness of his)
  • eliza
    - looks at the poetry section for a while
    - she prefers really old poetry and spends afternoons deciphering their meaning
    - rarely ends up buying much
    - she already has plenty at home and even has a list of what book to read next (also ang lets eliza borrow from her stock whenever she likes)
    - after she finds what she wants she’ll go to the kids section and listen to herc read with the kids
    - she picks out more kids’ books and stacks them up beside herc
  • angelica
    - actually doesn’t need to buy any books
    - usually brings extra money in the case that her sisters don’t have enough
    - brings the book she’s in the middle of with her
    - spends some time looking around and writes down the names of ones she’s interested in so she can borrow them from the library later on
    - owns every single classic novel (little women, pride and prejudice, etc.)
    - has lots of books about social issues/feminism
    - goes b/c she enjoys the atmosphere of bookstores
    - also b/c she loves the sound of new book spines cracking
  • peggy
    - goes to the café first
    - gets a really fancy drink
    - looks for books with fun covers and reads the summaries in the front covers of each
    - ends up only choosing one because she spent too much money on her overpriced frappucino
    - while in line she’ll probably pick up some colorful pens
    - goes back to the café to read her book or draw designs on laf’s arms with her new pens

anonymous asked:

A request for how McCree, 76, and Reaper would react to their s/o wearing their clothes. Bonus if their s/o is actually caught trying on their clothes.

Oh my gosh, yes! This is an awesome idea, I had so much fun thinking about this. Hope this is what you were looking for :) Enjoy!


McCree

He walked in on you laid on the bed on your laptop, wearing his serape over your clothes

  • He found it completely and utterly adorable
  • Snapping some photos on his phone to show Tracer and Genji later
  • He even just stayed in the doorway for a while, looking at you cuddled up in it
  • After a while, he couldn’t stay quiet any longer
  • “Comfortable, darlin’?”

He jumped onto the bed beside you then

  • Scaring the heck out of you as he did so
  • You whacked him for the gesture
  • He snuggled into the serape with you and you abandoned the laptop
  • Turning to your boyfriend for some serape cuddles


Soldier76

He walked into your shared bedroom to find you looking at yourself in one of his shirts in the mirror

  • As soon as he saw you he burst out laughing
  • The shirt was huge on you and you looked hilarious
  • You pouted in mock annoyance at his teasing
  • This only egged him on more

Suddenly you had an idea that made you smirk

  • You turned on the fake waterworks, completely taking him aback
  • You turned away from him, sniffling convincingly
  • He attempted to turn you round but you held firm
  • “Aw, I’m sorry honey, really, please don’t cry.”

After a few minutes you decide he’s been punished enough

  • Jumping round to face him with a shout of triumph
  • Laughing heartily as you watched his expression change from concerned to confused to annoyed in mere seconds
  • He ended up chasing you around the house before tackling you to the ground
  • He tickled you until real tears began streaming down your face between your wild chuckles


Reaper

He shadow stepped into the room where you were wearing his robes

  • Honestly, you weren’t exactly sure how you’d managed to get all these layers on
  • He certainly didn’t have a clue
  • But seeing you in what could only be described as a pile of his clothes awakened something within him
  • Before you knew it, there was a hysterical Reaper rolling about on the bed behind you

You had never seen him so amused

  • But you couldn’t go and slap him for his rudeness
  • Because you couldn’t actually move under the weight of all that black clothing
  • This only fuelled Reaper’s laughter
  • Especially as you got hotter and hotter and hotter
  • You made a mental note to pay him back for this later
  • Though he reminded you that this was completely you’re own doing
Not The Romantic Type

Prompt: After being labeled as a ‘non-romantic’ by the reader, Digger Harkness tries to prove the reader wrong by planning a cliche Valentines Day date.

Pairing: Captain Boomerang X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some cursing, sexual suggestion, but mostly fluff galore!

Originally posted by heartofdevastation

Digger Harkness was certainly a man of many talents and you were lucky to be able to call him yours. In one afternoon he could build you a wooden table and four sturdy chairs. He could drink an entire 12 pack of beer and still speak impressively coherently. He made the best damn grilled cheese in the world and never failed to make you laugh until tears were streaming down your face.

He was everything you could ask for and more! The only quality you could say he lacked was a romantic side… Which wasn’t a bad thing? He was sweet when he wanted to be and definitely an affectionate son of a bitch. But, as Valentines day was begin to creep up on you and all the heart shaped boxes of chocolates were on sale at the store you couldn’t help but to feel, well… Like you were missing out on something?

Keep reading

Young Justice Batmom: Part 8

AN: It has been forever and a day since I last updated this. I love how it turned out and I’m happy this got voted number one! For those of you who don’t know I held a poll on twitter to decide which series update I should post to day and YJ Batmom won! Make sure to follow me on twitter for more polls, and previews! Click Here to go to my twitter!

This chapter is dedicated to @audreythetealovingcat she’s been working on some super top secret stuff for me, and It’ll be going live soon! Thank you again so much, you continue to astound me!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7


    You complete the obstacle course without throwing up, which in your book… is a win. Especially since you’d thrown up the last two times you’d done it. If your father could see you now he’d be screaming.

           Years of physical training had gone down the drain in the years since you’d left your father’s organization and married Bruce. You’d never thought you’d have to fight again, and yet … here you were.

           “You’re getting better.”

           You crack open an eye to stare at your son, he’s balancing on his hands, on top of a ball. For a minute, you consider the possibility of him being part seal. You dismiss this as you heave your upper body into a sitting position. “I’m too old for this stuff.”

           Dick cracks a grin, “You’re in your twenties.”

           You nod, “My point exactly. That, and the fact that my husband is a task master.”

           Your eyes slide over to your husband. He’s standing in the corner writing notes on a clipboard. He glances at you for a second before writing something else down. Then without looking at you he says, “You’re the one who wanted to get back in fighting shape. I told you I wouldn’t go easy on you, and compared to Ra’s, I’m a freaking walk in the park. Now then, let’s go again.”

           You stare at him, “I want a divorce.”

           Dick slumps onto your back, and wraps his arms around your neck, before asking, “I can live with you, right? And Alfred will come with us, right?”

           Bruce smiles at the two of you before dropping the clipboard and rushing both of you. It’s instinct that has you hopping to your feet. Dick’s legs wrap around your waist, and then you’re running.

           You’re at the disadvantage, and you know it. You’re out of shape, and carrying a thirteen-year-old boy on your back. It’s honestly amazing that you last as long as you do. Bruce takes both of you down while taking the brunt of the fall.

           The three of you collapse in a laughing heap and just lay there. Dick is sandwiched in-between the two of you when he laughs, “We should do this more often.”

           You sigh, “Some families do a game night.”

           Bruce and Dick look at each other for a minute before shaking their heads and saying, “Nah.”

           You roll your eyes and hop to your feet, “Well I am going to go take a shower.”

           Bruce sits up, “What are you talking about, you still have laps to do. You didn’t beat your obstacle course time.”

           You glare at him, “You want to go back to being a billionaire playboy, don’t you?”

           “If he knows what’s good for him, he won’t even entertain that thought.” Alfred says as he enters the gym. “I worked long and hard to put the idea of lifelong companionship in his mind, and I refuse to go back to bimbos walking around in his dress shirts.”

           You glance at your husband, “When the hell did that happen? We got together when we were twenty. After you’d been training for two years.”

           Bruce winces, “I was sixteen, and he was supposed to be gone for the entire weekend.”

           Alfred rolls his eyes, “Like I was going to be that stupid.”

           You stare at your husband, and he stares back, before he says, “How about I forget about the laps, and we stay married.”

           You smile, “Okay, but only for Alfred’s sake.” You lean down and kiss your husband, when you pull back you whisper in his ear, “And maybe a bit for my own as well.”

           He pulls you back down for another kiss, before whispering, “Do you want some company?”

           You glance over at Dick who’s on the parallel bars, “Well we certainly wouldn’t be missed.”

           You grin at each other when the alarm goes off. He growls and you frown. Dick dismounts and simply says, “Let’s go guys.”

    You and Dick head straight for the Mountain while Bruce changes into his gear. You don’t bother with the mask or changing. At this point, the secret’s out, and you could not care less. You watch your son spar with Kaldur, and you find the Artemis at your side a moment later.

    “Hi Mrs. Wayne.”

    You smile at the girl, “Hello, Artemis.”

    The archer smiles back, “Why do you look like you’ve spent the morning getting your butt kicked.”

    You sigh, “Because I live with bullies, and I am waaay out of practice.”

    Artemis chuckles and takes a seat next to you, “So it’s possible to lose the skills, then?”

    You shrug, “I wish that were the case. Instead it seems to be more along the lines of they’re in hibernation. Then I find myself pinned and they seem to wake up a little at a time, and then my body just moves.”

    “Self preservation wins out.”

    You nod, “It would seem so.”

    There’s a moment of silence before she asks, “So does this mean you’re joining the Team or the League?”

    You snort out a laugh, “Neither. I’m a reserve member. I only go if they need me.”

    “Do you have a costume?”

    Your eye twitches, “I don’t do tights.”

    She laughs as Bruce enters, and you follow the kids to the command center. By the end of the briefing your eye is twitching, and you’re radiating anger. No one seems willing to approach you, with the exception of Bruce, and even he seems hesitant.

    “Y/N,” He says slowly.

    “Don’t you dare try to keep me from going, Bruce Wayne.” He winces at the use of his name.

    He tries again, “Y/N…”

    “I hate that damn clown, I hate him with everything I have. He needs to be put down, and I don’t want my kids near him.” Bruce stares at you, and your eyes narrow, “What?”

    “Two things. One we don’t kill, and two when did we get ‘kids’? Last time I checked we had a kid. Singular, not plural.”

    You roll your eyes, “The minute I became den mother those kids became ours. I’ve already dealt with the Joker hurting Dick once, I refuse to see it happen again.”

    “He knows the risk. We all do.”

    “He’s thirteen Bruce.”

    “And what could you do at thirteen?”

    “That’s a different situation.”

    “How?”

    “I was raised by an immortal psychopath who thought it was fun to pit his children against each other.”

    Bruce hesitates for a minute, “What would you suggest?”

    “Send two of the League with them, and I can help the League.”

    Bruce stares at you, “You’ve only been training for …”

    “My whole life Bruce. I’ve been training for my entire life. I’m rusty, I won’t deny that, but I can help take down some plants.”

    He stares at you in contemplation, before sighing. Then he lifts his finger to his earpiece and says, “There’s been a change of plans, Hell Cat and I are going with the Team.” There’s a moment of silence before he barks back, “Of course I’m sure. I’d be next to useless against giant plants. Batman out.”

    You smile at him before leaning in to kiss him, “I’ll go suit up.”

    Dick is less thrilled than you are by the news. “I can’t believe my parents are going on a mission with me! I’m thirteen, I don’t need a babysitter.

    You scoff from your seat in the bio ship, “Richard Grayson, get your temper tantrum under control now, or you can wait in the ship.”

    His head turns to stare at you with the use of his full name, “MOM!”

    You raise an eyebrow, and stare back before he relents and slumps into his seat, “Let’s get one thing straight. The minute I became den mother you all became my kids. This mission is an active fight against high level villains, and I’ll be damned if I let some stupid clown hurt my kids.”

    The kids turn to face you, a bit surprised by your declaration, but no one protests. There’s several moments of silence before Bruce says, “Looks like your days of being an only child are over kid.” There’s a stunned silence before the ship bursts out in laughter.

    The mission is hard, and by the end you want nothing to do with swamps, bugs, or plants ever again. In fact, you’re even considering sabotaging Alfred’s ficus. But you consider it worth it to see Bruce punch out the clown, especially after he went after your baby with a knife.

    “Wow those mosquitos really did a number on you.” Artemis smirks.

    You try to resist the urge to scratch one of the numerous bites on your skin, “Yeah, I can’t leave the house without being doused in bug spray during the summer. Mosquitoes flock to me.”

    “You need a better suit.”

    “Oh, I have ideas for that!” M’Gann calls from the other side of the room. And before you know it the rest of the kids are all pitching in their ideas, before Kaldur says loudly, “Perhaps we should let our mother have some say.”

    You blink owlishly for a moment before, M’Gann says, “Well, Mom?”

    Artemis nudges you with her elbow, “Aunt Y/N?”

    Wally and Dick grin at you, and then Conner too asks, “Mom?”

    You glance at Bruce over their heads and he smiles at you. Smiling you open your arms and say, “We’ll talk about it later. For now, group hug!”

    Then you’re surrounded by your kids. You glance at Dick who’s hanging off your back, and he simply smiles and says, “I guess we’re one big happy family now.”

    You smile and say, “You’re still my baby.”

    He just groans.

Party- for Good Boys Only

Pairing: AmazingPhil & Danisnotonfire (Phan)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Daddy!kink

Warnings: Parental Divorce, Sexual Content

Word count: 9000

Summary: Dan and Phil are reluctant stepbrothers soon to be strangers. When Dan’s father decided to marry Phil’s mother, no one could have predicted the marriage ending in flames only a few weeks later. The two boys who avoided each other at all costs during the marriage are brought together one last time before they part ways forever. Phil hates Dan. Dan can’t stand Phil. But what happens when a house party goes terribly wrong and they end up needing each other more than their parents ever did?  

AKA. Angsty teenage Dan, a drunken night no one can remember, mysterious hickies, thigh riding, overstim, sexual tension for days etc… 

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Sansa, Smart

So. Sansa. I hear some people think she’s not very clever. This is a view shared by several characters in the books.

But there’s no reason the readership should share those views. Sansa is a very clever individual who makes increasingly good use of several skills she started the series with, and develops greatly as an observer and an actor over the course of the story.

Putting everything under a cut, for reasons of four books of brainpower.

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3

(That last gif demanded this. But on the note, have to wonder if Hakuba’s ever been to one of Kaito’s ‘heists’ where he really doesn’t do anything. Green Dream is especially coming to mind as Kid accomplishing something, just not exactly what everyone expected. Or, you know. Ryoma or that baseball incident. I’d love to know Hakuba’s thoughts on ones like those, even if he gets that Kaito isn’t a bad thief.)

Paper Hearts

A stupidly fluffy SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Valentine’s Celebration


Simon

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Meet me in Room 172.

           I refold the note, noticing how the paper has already settled into well-known creases since this morning.  It’s not the first anonymous note I’ve gotten over the past week, but it’s the first time the writer has made a move beyond waxing poetic.

           The Watford halls are sickening today, even to me.  I understand the appeal of decorating for Christmas, but Valentine’s Day?  It just seems a little patronizing to adorn the walls in that many paper hearts, whether the hearts can magically float around people’s heads or not.  And it’s not that I’m a cynic, but Valentine’s Day this year was set to be a difficult one for me, since I no longer have Agatha to dote upon.

           But as I slip the little creased note back into my pocket and make for Room 172, the paper hearts seem less mocking and my own beating heart feels just a bit lighter.

           When I reach the door I falter, doubts rushing to my head.  What if there’s no one there?  And what if there is?  Then what?

           But I turn the knob and shove open the door.

           And immediately I see who’s waiting and I hate the thrill that bolts through me, and I wish that I had turned back.

           Baz’s face goes red when he sees me and I wonder briefly if I’ve seen him this angry before, so enraged that he turns colour.

           “What,” he seethes, “are you doing here?”

           “What am I doing here?” I spit back, my heart sinking and racing at once.  “What are you doing here?”

           “None of your business,” he growls, sitting on one of the desks and pointedly looking anywhere but at me.

           Everything in me is boiling.  I’m angry and I’m disappointed at once, but I puff up my pride and stalk over to another desk and sit down to wait.  Maybe the fates will be on my side for once and the mystery writer will reveal themselves yet.

           Although, would that be the fates with me or against me?  Because everything right now is looking like Baz wrote the note, and sitting here in the empty classroom full of paper hearts with him just a few desks away, it’s getting harder to ignore the buzzing under my skin and harder to ignore the fact that he is the common denominator.

           The clock ticks away like a drumbeat and I stare at the door, hoping, praying for something to happen.

           “Why are you here?”

           I throw a glance over at Baz, who has turned his head so that he can see me without looking at me.  “If you must know,” I reply sharply, “I’m waiting for someone.”

           “Really?”

           “You think I’m lying?”

           “I think you’re pathetic.”

           I have to squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten like Penny told me before I can breathe evenly again.  “What’s your excuse, Basil?” I grit through my teeth. “Why do you have to be here?  Has no one invited you across the threshold?” It’s a lame dig, but I know it will be effective, whether he shows it or not.  If there’s anything I’ve learned from being his enemy it’s that vampire jokes are a no-no.

           “I told you, it’s none of your business.”

           “Can’t you take your business elsewhere, then?”

           “No.”

           “Arse.”

           “Prat.”

           When I turn to throw another insult at him, the sun through the window catches the side of his face and turns his eyes to silver… and the insult dies in my throat.

           Beautiful.

           I try to stomp on the thought.  No.

           But it’s too late.  

           It’s there.  It’s taken root.

           And the longer I look at him the more it flowers.

           Another thought bubbles up to the surface almost tentatively.  Are you sure it wasn’t him?

           As much as I know I should try to extinguish that notion along with the previous, I let it linger.  If I think back on it, I don’t think I ever have seen him angry enough to turn red.

           So maybe he’s not angry.  

           Maybe it’s something else.

           When he meets my eye, I’m still staring at him, and his gaze darts away again, but his cheeks.

           They go pink, and there’s no anger in his eyes.  Only uncertainty.

           His silver eyes.

           And all at once, I decide to change everything.

Baz

“Alright, Baz,” comes Simon’s soft voice, “you can drop the act.”

           I turn to look at him again, and it’s like looking at the sun because I can feel his image scorching onto my retinas.  Meeting Simon Snow’s gaze is something that can only be done in doses, for me at least, I don’t know why.

           Well, I know why, but I can’t logically explain it.

           “Act?” I repeat dumbly.

           He slides off the desk and takes a slow step in my direction, and even that is enough to set my heart hammering.  “Yes,” he says, “act.”

           “I don’t know what -”

           “I think you do,” he interrupts me, “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” He pauses for a breath, like he’s second-guessing himself, but then he meets my eyes again.  “I think you wrote the notes.”

           My brain screeches to a halt and nothing makes sense.  “Notes,” I reply, and I hate myself because the boy I’m head-over-heels for is actually not at my throat and I sound like a parrot.

           He seems to get a burst of confidence.  “It’s okay, Baz,” he goes on, still slowly advancing, “I don’t mind, but you could have just said something.”

           I have nowhere to go.  I want to leap up from my spot and run, but I can’t.  Even in all this, my pride wins.  I’m on a desk in the middle of an empty classroom, and I’m cornered.  “Said something,” I stammer, “about what?”

           He shrugs, right in front of me now.  “Anything from any of the notes, which were unbelievably mushy, by the way. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

           “Hang on,” I stop him, unable to keep from shrinking back.  “You’ve been getting notes?”

           “All week,” he grins, “though I didn’t realize it was you until I got here.  I have to say, that last one was weak poetry. I mean, ‘roses are red, violets are blue’?”

           Something in my brain clicks and I swear I hear a ding.  “‘Meet me in Room 172’,” I finish with a sinking feeling.

           His face lights up like all the stars in the sky are in his eyes.  “I knew it was you,” he murmurs, and – Crowley – his gaze flickers to my mouth, no more than a foot away.

           And I want it.  I want to keep quiet and let him close the distance.  Hell, I want to do it myself.

           But I reach into my pocket and pull out the scrap of paper from inside.  “Then I hate to tell you this, Snow,” I say quietly, my heart breaking, “but I didn’t do it.”

           He looks away from my eyes for the first time and his brow scrunches up when he sees the note in my hand.  He takes it from me and unfolds it, his eyes scanning over the words again and again, the same little three-line poem.  I watch as he checks his pockets, finding an identical note in his jeans, and the penny drops.

           “It wasn’t you,” he says, almost to himself, and his face falls.

           “I’ve been getting anonymous notes all week, too,” I confess.  “It’s a trick on both of us.”

           His hands are shaking.  “Why would anyone do this?” he asks quietly, his face reddening, and I can’t tell whether it’s with embarrassment or anger or sadness, or all of the above.

           “I don’t know,” I stand at last and saunter over to lean against the wall, grateful for some air that isn’t charged with proximity.  “People are dicks, I guess.”

           “And you swear that you had nothing to do with it?”  He won’t look at me at all now.

           “I swear.”

           He squeezes his eyes shut and I half expect tears to appear on his cheeks, but he just nods once and turns to march towards the door.

           An image flashes through my brain, of his eyes boring into mine, of how they flickered down to my flustered mouth.

           And suddenly I decide that I’ve had enough of this.

           “Simon.”

           He stops dead in his tracks.  “What?” he says without looking at me.

           “I’m sorry.”

           “What for?  You said you didn’t do anything.”  His voice sounds sore, like he is fighting tears after all.

           “I’m sorry that you thought it was me,” I tell him, “because…” I trail off, unsure how to finish.

           “Because what?”

           I wish he would look at me.  “I hate to ask, but did you mean any of that?”

           “About not minding if it was you?”  He sighs like he’s given up.  “Yes. I meant all of it.”

           He meant all of it.  From the words to the glance at my lips.  All of it.

           He shoots me a red-faced glare at my silence.  “Happy?”

           I stare back, and I can feel a big stupid grin bubbling up.  “Yes, actually.”

           That catches him off-guard.  “Why?”

           “Because I wouldn’t mind if it was you, either,” I blurt out before I can lose my nerve.

           His eyebrows finally un-furrow and he meets my eyes properly.  I know that I’m turning pink again, but as he starts to step towards me, I hold his gaze.

           When he’s right in front of me again, close enough that I have to look down to see him, he whispers “You mean…”

           One of the paper hearts littering the room suddenly jumps up off a desk, and I don’t know if they’ve been charmed to target fools in love or not, but it starts to dance around my head.

           Simon chuckles at the heart.  “Is that a yes?”

           I allow myself a tempered version of the big stupid grin.  “You could say that.”

           The heart swoops in front of my eyes, and I lazily wave it away.

           Simon stands on tiptoe and plucks the heart from the air by my eyes, and we’re no further than a breath apart.

           And then he leans in the rest of the way.

Agatha

Penny squeezes my hand hard when they finally fall together, and I squeeze back.  Stealthily she snaps a silent photo on her phone, and I make a mental note to get her to send it to me later.  The fruits of our labours.

           We step back from the open door of Room 172 as quietly as we can, but I doubt we need to worry.  Simon and Baz are both far too occupied to notice us.

           Penny keeps hold of my hand as we make a break for it, waiting until we’re around several corners before speaking.

           “Damn,” she grins at me, “we are good.”

           All I can do is grin back, still holding her hand as we stroll down the hallway, kicking up clouds of red paper hearts.

bloodmoonmermaid  asked:

Hey, Tink, could you make a list of the most Destiel(y) episodes?

Ooh, thats a kind of hard one because some of the best Destiel episodes don’t even have Cas in them (I’m thinking ones that expose canon Destiel as romantic, like Bloodlines or ones that expose Dean’s pining for Cas like Rock and a Hard Place or The Memory Remains…).

OK, so my top Destiel episodes with Dean and Cas IN them are:

4x07 - the UST and Cas starting to fall

6x20 - Obviously.

7x17 - Dean getting Cas back then protecting Cas from the truth even though he broke Sam because he wants to spare him pain and all of season 7 reminding us of Karen / Bobby is my jam

8x07 - Cas rejecting Dean because he has low self worth and doesn’t understand his own feelings

9x06 - Dean rejecting Cas in 9x03 because he always puts Sam first before love interests and his own lifelong happiness (thank you Bad Boys), Cas being heartbroken so the Rit Zein Angel comes after him just after Dean arrives on the scene, Cas not answering the question when he’s asked if he wants to live as an Angel or a Human, and the camera cuts to Dean, Dean longingly staring at Cas THREE TIMES, first as he arrives, as he goes off for his ‘date’ and forgetting to actually leave because he is so wistful, nearly asking Cas not to go in but holding back, because it’s Dean, that’s what he does, he doesn’t deserve this, he just literally rejected Cas himself, it’s not his place to hold him back now, he should let him go and then finally at the end… “always the adios…”

9x18 - I mean, its a meta episode, his name is meta-tron for a reason. He exposes that Cas is in love with “humanity”, please. Then this is nicely reminded for us by Amara in season 11 when she says that DEAN “represents that for (her)”. Thanks hun, you’re doing a great job exposing the Destiel, please keep going, oh ok wait, you did, for the whole of the season, then brought Mary back to continue the job, you’re a star ;)

11x18 - this is one of my overall favourite top top top Destiel episodes, I think maybe top two with 9x06. Dean exposing himself to danger from Lucifer and Amara to try and save Cas, Lucifer TAUNTING DEAN because if it! Amara USING it! Cas freaking lighting up when he realises he saw Dean and trusting his judgement… argh. Lucifer and Amara noting Dean’s distress and Amara then using Cas to get to Dean…. cos you know, the bro bond is much stronger than God’s sister :p

12x10 - Dean is Cas’ weakness. Dean is willing to let himself get hurt and or / potentially killed by Ishim to protect Cas - Cas is also therefore a weakness for Dean.

12x12 - Cas loves Dean and everyone knows exactly what his double clarification meant. Dean is angry at himself for causing Cas to be lying here dying. “Let’s go home” ARGH.

12x19 - Dean trying to tell Cas but he just isn’t ready yet, so he just gives him a freaking mixtape and acts like an angry spouse then a worried beyond belief lover throughout the whole episode and I’m so here for it.

Leading to 12x22 and 12x23 as the ultimate “why can’t we catch a break” moment as Dean just learns to accept the side of him that has feelings for Cas and he goes and dies on him and Dean ends up in a pretty catatonic unresponsive state and we have THAT to rest on for the whole summer.

Help me, this ship is canonically sailing full swing and I cannot pretend it’s not there right in front of me being shoved in my face, with it’s glorious billowing sails of love…

ALL ABOARD!

Meet Me Inside -  Part 1

Masterlist  I  Part 2 

Relationship: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You really wanted your last year to go without a hitch so you could finally get your Masters degree. But then Professor Barnes walks in to your lecture. And he makes it a whole lot harder to focus. 

A/N: I finally had some inspiration thanks to a request I’ve had sitting in my inbox for ages. And i’m so excited.

Warnings: None for this part. 

Words: 2134

Originally posted by veronikaphoenix

Rubbing the fatigue from your eyes, you groan as you roll over, picking up your phone and squinting as the screen shines far too brightly while you turn off your alarm and drop the phone back on to your bedside table.

“Last year” you mutter to yourself repeatedly as you roll out of bed and get ready.

Only one more year and you’d finally finish your Masters Degree. The thought, however, was always threatened to be dampened by the realisation that you’d need to make plans for what you would undertake after you graduate, but you pushed the thought aside whenever it threatened to linger.

Although you’d refused the offer to go out the night before, you had stayed awake for much longer than you should have and it showed. Your eyes were puffy and dry from lack of sleep.

“Last year” you mutter to yourself once more.

As was routine, you tie your hair back, dress in whatever is clean, grab your phone from the bedside and your bag from beside the door, locking your apartment as you leave.

Keep reading

Kiwi

Originally posted by elizabethccoper

Read “Ever Since New York” first

Check my series masterlist for updates!

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: (Y/N) drags Jughead along to the “club with shitty security.”

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 2,176

A/N: here is the first “drabble” for this series, which will eventually all build up to a dramatic part 2!! Hope you enjoy, I had so much fun writing this one!


She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes
Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect
And all the boys, they were saying they were into it
Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck

“Jesus,” (Y/N) moaned as she flopped onto Jughead’s bed.  “That was a fucking long week.”

“Who knew a writing internship could be this physically exhausting?” Jughead agreed, sitting next to her.  “At least we have the weekend to relax.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, rubbing the white hotel sheets between her fingers.  “How would you like to unwind this weekend, Mr. Jones?”

“Well, Ms. (Y/L/N),” Jughead smiles coyly, “last week I got to choose, and we ended up at Central Park. I believe it’s your turn to choose.”

“Okay,” (Y/N) responded, then fell into silence as she debated what to do.  Jughead watched her with a smile as she bit her lip, eyes furrowed in concentration.

“You’re taking this very seriously,” he noted, laughing at her intense facial expression.  

Her face loosened from its focused state.  “This is serious business, Jug,” she stated as seriously as she could.  “If this ends up being not being relaxing enough, we’ll go back on Monday feeling like absolute shit.  And then it’ll make next week even longer and more exhausting.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jughead raised his hands in mock surrender.  “This is a matter of life and death.”

“Exactly,” (Y/N) said. She retreated back into silence as she contemplated how they would spend their weekend.  “I got it!” she exclaimed after a few minutes of thought.  

Jughead raised an eyebrow. “What are we gonna do?” he asked, a small smirk forming on his face.

(Y/N)’s face exploded into a giant grin.  “We’re gonna go clubbing.”

She’s driving me crazy, but I’m into it, but I’m into it
I’m kind of into it

“Are you serious?” Jughead demanded, eyes widening.  

(Y/N) nodded, not showing any signs of joking around.  “Of course I’m serious.  What better way to unwind than to get some alcohol in your system?”

“What if we get caught?” he questioned.  “(Y/N), this could fuck up our internship.”

If we get caught,” she winked.  “Jug, it’ll be fine.  I went there once before you arrived here.  It’s really not too bad, and there’s no way that anyone will find out.”

“How do you know that?” Jughead pressed.  “How do you know someone from the building won’t be there and see us?  Or maybe a bar fight will break out and the cops will show up, and they’ll notice we’re there.  How do you know it’ll be okay?”

“Jughead Jones,” (Y/N) placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, ending his tangent, “it will be okay. Listen, if you don’t wanna go, that’s fine.  I can go on my own.”  She stood up from the bed and grabbed her phone.  “I’m gonna go get ready.  Just text me if you change your mind.”  She exited his hotel room, leaving Jughead alone with his doubts.

Of course he didn’t want to go clubbing.  He was, after all, an antisocial weirdo who didn’t even like going to clubs.  Putting his internship as risk was just the cherry on top.  But then he started thinking about (Y/N) on her own, and he grew worried about the kind of people who lurk out in the New York streets on Friday nights.  If he wasn’t with her, who knew what could happen.

That, Jughead decided, was worth risking his internship for.  He quickly picked up his phone, and his thumbs tapped out a text.  He read it aloud right before he hit send: “Fuck it, let’s go clubbing.”

It’s getting crazy, I think I’m losing it, I think I’m losing it
Oh, I think she said, “I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business.
I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business (it’s none of your, it’s none of your).
I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business.
I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your, it’s none of your.”

“I’m glad you changed your mind.”  (Y/N) stood at his door an hour later, sporting a little black dress.  She looked him up and down, evaluating the clothes he changed into.  “Nice outfit.”

“You as well,” Jughead returned the compliment, slowly closing the door behind him.  “Shall we go?”  He offered his arm to her, which she gladly accepted.  

The New York streets were equally, if not more, busy during the nighttime.  There were crowds of people maneuvering past each other on the sidewalks, some of the tipsier people practically dancing to the song of blaring car horns.  (Y/N)’s steps grew bouncier as they neared the club.

“I know this isn’t your scene,” she whispered to Jughead, “so thank you for coming.”  

Jughead looked down at her, shocked.  “How do you know it’s not my scene?” he asked indignantly.  “Maybe I actually love clubbing.”

(Y/N) burst out into laughter.  “Yeah sure, and maybe I actually love running marathons,” she sarcastically retorted. Then she became serious.  “Listen, Jug, I know you.  You’re my friend.  I figured that it wasn’t just the risk underage drinking imposes on our internship that turned you off from clubbing.  So thank you for coming with me.”

“In my defense,” Jughead stated, “the only reason I came is so that you won’t get mugged.”

“Well thanks for that,” (Y/N) bent her head back with laughter, “but I could totally handle myself.”

“You could not!”

“Yeah I could!” she defended herself.  “I could totally beat up someone.”

“No you wouldn’t,” he scoffed.  “You’re way too weak.  You get tired at a writing internship.”

“Touché.”

It’s New York, baby, always jacked up
Holland Tunnel for a nose, it’s always backed up
When she’s alone, she goes home to a cactus
In a black dress, she’s such an actress

(Y/N) batted her eyelashes at the doubtful bouncer.  

“You two don’t look twenty-one,” he stated, his voice low and gruff.  

“And you don’t look a day over thirty,” she winked at the obviously in-his-forties man.  

He only rolled his eyes. “Look, miss, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but drinking under the age of twenty-one is illegal,” he sarcastically explained.

“I’m not a ditz,” she snapped.  “Besides, we’re not here to drink, we’re here to dance.”  She glanced over at Jughead and nudged him in the side.  “Right, Jug?”

“Right,” he immediately replied.  Satisfied, (Y/N) put her hands on her hips as she turned to face the bouncer.

“See?” she said. “Just here to dance.”

“Fine,” the bouncer huffed. “But only for this one time. You’re not getting in here again until you both turn twenty-one.”

“Thank you, sir,” (Y/N) cooed, sending him a smile.  She grabbed Jughead’s hand as she led him inside, the music growing louder.  “I told you it’d be fine,” she yelled over the music.

Jughead shook his head. “We almost got caught,” he yelled back.

“But we didn’t!” she reminded him.

“I’m starting to second guess this decision,” he groaned, but still allowed (Y/N) to yank him over to the bar.  “I thought we weren’t getting any alcohol.”

“Oh, sweetie, you believed me?” (Y/N) giggled.  “I came here to get tipsy, Jug.  I’m not stupid, so I’m obviously not gonna order my drinks here at the bar.  Wait for them to start sending waitresses out onto the dance floor.  You just drop some cash on their tray and take a drink.  It’s simple.”

“This is insane!”

(Y/N) laughed loudly and winked.  “But don’t lie, you like it!”

Driving me crazy, but I’m into it, but I’m into it
I’m kind of into it
It’s getting crazy, I think I’m losing it, I think I’m losing it
Oh, I think she said, “I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business.
I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business (it’s none of your, it’s none of your).
I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business.
I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your, it’s none of your.”

“Take a shot,” (Y/N) commanded, holding up two shot glasses, one further towards Jughead.  

He furiously shook his head. “No way,” he replied, swatting it away. “It’s bad enough you dragged me here. You’re not getting me drunk.”

“First of all, Jug, you dragged yourself here,” (Y/N) reminded him.  She quickly took her shot.  “And second, lighten up.  If you’re having such a bad time here, then you can either leave, or,” she inched the second shot glass a little closer to him, “you can get tipsy and actually have a good time.”

Jughead rolled his eyes and shook his head again.  “No,” he refused.  “No way.”

“Aw come on, Jug,” she whined, sticking out her lower lip.  “Just one shot?”

Jughead hesitated for a moment, eyeing the shot glass.  “No.”

“You hesitated,” (Y/N) pointed out.

“No I didn’t,” he argued. “I’m not drinking anything except soda and water here, (Y/N).  Think of me as your designated driver.”

“Jughead, we walked here.”

“Then I’m your designated walker,” he shrugged.  “You and I both know you’ll be too drunk to walk properly.”

“One shot is barely gonna get you tipsy,” she countered, still holding the glass out towards him. “Come on, Jug, let loose.  Have a bit of fun.”

“I am plenty fun when I’m sober,” he defended himself.  

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Sure you are.”

“You know what? Fine.”  Jughead snatched the shot glass out of (Y/N)’s hand, ignoring the growing smirk on her face.  “Just one shot, though.”  He quickly took the shot and handed the empty glass back to (Y/N).  “Happy?”

(Y/N) laughed as she walked towards the dance floor, “Very!”

She sits beside me like a silhouette
Hard candy dripping on me ‘til my feet are wet
And now she’s all over me, it’s like I paid for it
It’s like I paid for it, I’m gonna pay for this

Two hours into the night, (Y/N) was drunkenly dancing with strangers.  She, with her magical powers of persuasion, managed to convince Jughead to have a few drinks.  He wasn’t nearly as drunk as (Y/N) was, but he was definitely tipsier than he expected. However tipsy he was, though, there was no way (Y/N) would be able to drag Jughead onto the dance floor.

He watched from the sidelines as she danced with some guy who was definitely older than her.  She, in her joyously drunken state, didn’t seem to mind.  His hands were on her waist, and Jughead watched as they slowly inched down towards her ass.

“Hey!” he yelled, storming onto the dance floor.  (Y/N) and the man’s heads snapped to look at him.  “Hands off of her, buddy.”  The guy rolled his eyes as he held up his hands in mock-surrender.

“Whatever, dude,” he scoffed as he walked off.  

(Y/N) grinned at Jughead, causing him to send her a confused glance.  “You’re on the dancefloor,” she noted.

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Only to protect you.”

“How sweet,” she cooed, grabbing his hand.  “Since you’re here, let’s dance.”  

Jughead tried to pull her in the opposite direction.  “Let’s not.”

“Aw come on, Jug,” she pouted, too drunk to resist his tugs.  “You haven’t danced with me all night.”

Jughead glanced at the exit, and then he turned to face a moping (Y/N).  He rolled his eyes as he sighed, “Fine, but only one song and then we’re leaving.”

(Y/N)’s grin returned as she led him to the dance floor.  “It’s a deal.”

It’s none of your, it’s none of your
“I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business.”
“I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business” (it’s none of your, it’s none of your)
“I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business”
“I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business” (it’s none of your, it’s none of your)

“Come on, (Y/N), we’re almost there,” Jughead had his arm wrapped around her waist, her arm slung around his shoulders.  “I thought you’d be able to hold your alcohol better than that.”

“Maybe I just like it when you hold me like this,” (Y/N) flirtatiously whispered with a smirk.  Jughead ignored the butterflies in his stomach as he continued to trudge towards the hotel.

“Just a little bit further,” he muttered, practically dragging (Y/N) along next to him.  When they reached the hotel, they both stumbled into the elevator.  Jughead kept his arm firmly wrapped around her waist until they stood in front of her door.  “Can you make it into your room alright?” Jughead jokingly asked, but there was a bit of concern behind it.

“I’ll be fine, thank you, Jug,” (Y/N) laughed as she unwrapped her arm from around his shoulders. She walked into her room in a perfectly sober manner, causing Jughead to question if she really meant it when she said she liked it when he wrapped his arm around her waist.  Right before she shut her door, she winked at him, leaving a flabbergasted Jughead standing alone in the hotel hallway.

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3

I don’t think we talk about this enough–the way Dean intervenes when it looks like John and Sam are going to come to blows. In the first one, John doesn’t seem to think there’s anything odd about Dean basically switching on parent mode to get Sam to do what he says. And in the second one, Dean has to physically pull them apart, which exactly no one seems surprised about. And then we have Dean warning John to back off in the third one. And through all of this, none of them seem to find anything strange about these interactions. When it’s all over, Dean’s more exasperated than truly shocked or dismayed. 

It begs the questions: Just how many times has Dean had to intervene between John and Sam? How many times has Dean had to make sure Sam was safe from John’s anger? Just how often did Dean take on the bulk of the parenting responsibilities when John was right there? 

Strictly Professional

Summary: You recognized the problematic customers the second you saw them. Lin, however, took the cake with being the most memorable client you’ve ever had. (TattooArtist!Reader)

Paring: Lin x reader

Words: 4,428

A/N:Thank you to @strongenoughfoundation for being awesome and giving me tips for certain parts of the story (you’re the queen of dialogue)! Also, thank you to @how-could-i-do-this for proofreading (I’m glad i’m getting better at not switching tenses lol). I wrote this in celebration of my first tattoo lol! Thanks for reading!

Edit: @whenthingsgettoughdontpushmeaway - I remember you asking to be tagged when I posted. @buckybarneshairpullingkink - You already read it, but I didn’t forget (well, I did, but ya know lol)


“Is that him?” you mumbled to your coworker Liz as you emerged from your room to the front desk, watching the man that paced back and forth in front of the parlor.

You could always spot the first-timers the instant you looked at them. You could sense the excitement and nervousness rolling off them in waves, their bodies tense from the anticipation of the ink that would soon permanently mark their skin.

But him?

It was more like a tsunami of emotions, crashing and tumbling over his body as he questioned his decision to get a tattoo. You felt it before you even stepped foot into the same room as him.

“It’s so unfair that you always get the cute ones,” Liz whispered as she handed you his paperwork. She had an appointment in ten minutes, and with the piece being a fairly large and intricate one, she passed him off to you.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring her comment and scanned his papers, noting his name and birthdate. “Lin?” you called.

He spun on his heel at his name, his swift steps having him in front of the desk within seconds. “Hi, yes, that’s me,” he answered quickly.

You inwardly sighed, knowing exactly what kind of patron he was going to be: the spazz that spoke too much, asked too many questions, and would hold his breath until he turned blue. “My name is Y/N and I’ll be with you today. What kind of tattoo would you like Lin?” you asked, watching as he nervously drummed his fingers against the counter.

His eyes widened, looking at you disbelievingly. “You’re the one giving me the tattoo?”

The neck cramp that you got when you handled frustrating customers reared its ugly head. “Yes. This is a fairly small tattoo shop and you just happened to come in last minute, without an appointment…” you said slowly, narrowing your eyes and challenging him to say anything further.

“I didn’t expect someone that looked like you to give me a tattoo. I’ve always pictured a big, burly man and not a beautiful woman that…” Lin trailed off, sighing when he realized what an ass he must have sounded, “I’m just going to shut up now. Sorry.”

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The song is a surprising departure from the corporation-produced teen pop that made him a star, and his decision to go in a completely different direction may have some fans scratching their heads. “Sign Of The Times” sounds more like something straight out of the 1970’s, or, rather, exactly like somebody trying to replicate the tastes of a past generation. The tune blends a top 40-ready version of psychedelic-leaning rock with high notes better suited for an R&B slow jam as Styles croons about the end of the world. “Sign” is one of the few songs where a written description cannot do justice—you have to hear it to get it.
—  Forbes
How to empty mind meditate

Prep stages:

1) Take a shower/bath and get all dried off. Put on comfortable loose clothes.

2) Clean your room where you are going to sit. Or go outside to a fairly tidy spot and sit. 

3) Do a basic relaxation exercise like starting with your neck and moving down to your feet of tensing and releasing each muscle group. OR do shaking tree practice to shake tensions out of all your muscles.

4) Make sure you are sitting supported and comfortably. In a chair with your feet slightly raised on a couple books or cross legged on a cushion, or sitting loosely cross legged or kneeling comfortably are all fine.

Actual meditation:

1) Sit for as long as you can. Let your mind run. Don’t indulge it exactly, like don’t start planning a novel, but just sit and let your thoughts come and go as they will. You are literally just letting your mind empty, its full and it has to let all its thoughts out so it can get empty. Do not pursue any of your thoughts. Just let them think and fizzle out.

2) Sit still as you can, but that’s not the main focus. If you have an itch cross your eyes and look right to left. If you still are itching, then scratch and get back to sitting still. If your position you are sitting in hurts, rearrange. If you twitch or can’t keep your hands straight let them fiddle but don’t focus on them. Counting beads like mala beads or a rosary can be good for keeping fidgeting fingers busy.

3) When you are done, like you can’t stand it anymore for whatever reason or you ran out of free time. Get up and congratulate yourself for meditating. This is really all it is, you meditated if you sat still and let your thoughts run.

4) Repeat often. At some point your mind will probably run out of thoughts for a bit. To me it feels like a warm dark tingle and I realize all the sudden that I wasn’t thinking about anything. There is no way to know how long you weren’t thinking. Congratulate yourself and then let all the thoughts about how you finally got empty mind go–don’t exactly indulge them, but don’t police them either. You might not get there again for a while because you are pursuing it to hard, but after a time it becomes natural.

After:

1) If you fell asleep don’t get upset, it probably means you got to empty mind and your body checked out because of exhaustion. Congratulate yourself, get more sleep, and try again another day at another time of day when you are less tired.

2) If you have visions and spirits contacting you, take note of them and if you want to plan to focus on them later. But return to just letting things happen don’t particularly indulge them unless you feel it must be handled then. Take notes afterwards of anything that came up that you need to address.

3) Once you have achieved empty mind a few times, take note of how it feels and experiment with just remembering the feeling and see if it comes to you faster.

4) Take note of how meditating helps your stress levels and try to include it in your daily habits because it is very beneficial. Just doing it, not whether you achieve empty mind or not, is what makes it successful.

5) Meditation is a modern expression of traditional witchcraft because our fore bearers had more times to sit and relax than we do sometimes while working like when watching the sheep, plowing, or weaving. So we cultivate it in modern life where it just occurred within the normal day to day customs in the past. However, some time was ritually set aside for meditation practices like incubation in caves and mounds. So once you have gotten good at the practice see if you can bring it into some of your day to day tasks so that you can experience it more like our ancestors did.