this isn't very good sorry


Sub-Zero making tea for Scorpion is my favorite thing from the entire story mode of Mortal Kombat X to be completely honest.



1.4k words
Hungover Jensen, post Jib

Jensen opens his eyes and immediately closes them again. His head is pounding, it’s too bright in the hotel room, his entire body aches.

After a couple minutes of stretching and groaning and adjusting his eyes to the sunlight, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and ends up with a piece of notebook paper in his hand instead. In terrible handwriting, there are a few random words on the paper like “breakfast,” “crepe options,” and “hamburger meat with onions.” He bunches the paper up and tosses it aside before grabbing his phone and lying back down against the bed.

For some reason his email app is open, and a drafted email is waiting to be sent. It’s addressed to Jim Michaels, with the subject line “Get fuckd.”

In the body of the email is written, “I think I want to quit the show and open a food truck. I have a lot of great ideas for a food truck, and I’m writing up a menu right—”

Jensen deletes the drafted email and scrambles through his sent messages to make sure he didn’t actually email anyone. Thankfully, he didn’t.

He checks his text messages next and finds that the only person he texted yesterday was his wife. Thank fucking god.


I’m wearing the underwear you bought me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The pair I said I’d never wear in a million years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m wearing it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Jensen’s eyes widen and his face heats up as he stares at his phone, the words blurring together. He tears the covers away from his lap and looks down at himself. The only thing he’s wearing is a pair of peach-colored boxer briefs that are too big on him.

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hello i keep thinking about modern au yuu and mika day after day

“Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Charlie looked down at the mess on her lap, helpless.

“Does it hurt?” Dean asked. Charlie’s head snapped up. From the tone in his voice she could tell he’d asked her more than once.

“Yeah it hurts.” she said, her voice strained. “This isn’t ketchup.”

“What were you thinking, Charlie?”

That jolted her out of whatever shock she was feeling. “Really, Dean?” She glared at him. “I seem to recall a certain big brother of mine shouting, ‘Just a little higher, Charlie! You’re almost there!’”

Dean cringed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you were nearly there. And you did get the frisbee…but maybe you should have paid more attention to the branches you were stepping on.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t lecture the girl with branches sticking out of her legs.” Charlie’s voice grew more and more shrill as she spoke.

“They aren’t big branches,” Dean said, lamely.

“The ambulance is on the way,” said Sam, running to them from the front porch, oblivious to the glares on his his siblings’ faces. “It should be here any minute.”

Before Dean and Charlie could resume their argument they heard the sound of a siren in the distance. Dean let out a breath she didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Thank god,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else.

“I’m Castiel,” said the EMT. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

He kept talking to Charlie–he and his partner–but Dean didn’t hear a word. He was transfixed by blue eyes and tousled black hair, by a quirky smile and a jaw covered by just a hint of stubble. He saw strong arms gently lift his sister onto a gurney. As they wheeled her toward the ambulance he heard Castiel ask, “How old are you, Charlie?”

“I’m sixteen,” she answered.

“I’m twenty-two,” Dean blurted.

Everyone turned to look at him. Castiel gave him an odd look. “Thanks for sharing,” he said drily.

Dean’s ears turned pink.

“Don’t mind Dean,” said Charlie. “He’s just being himself.”

They’d reached the ambulance; Castiel and his partner carefully lifted the gurney and slid it, and Charlie, inside. “I don’t think your sister’s legs are broken, although they’ll have to x-ray her at the hospital to be sure. And you can see that she’s bleeding, but she’d be bleeding a lot more if one of the branches had hit a major artery. We’ll get her taken care of,” Castiel said to Dean and Sam while his partner secured the gurney inside the ambulance.

“Can I ride with her?” asked Sam.

“Sure,” said Castiel.

From inside they heard Charlie yell, “I want Dean!”

“Dean?” said Sam.

“Me?” said Dean.

They looked at each other and shrugged.

“Alright,” said Dean, handing Sam his keys. “Follow in my car. Be careful with my baby!”

Charlie smirked, as much as she could as through the painkillers. “You’re welcome, Dean.”

He grinned. “Yeah, yeah. I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than one, I think,” she said, gesturing at her legs. They were neatly bandaged under her hospital gown. Castiel had been right, no bones were broken. She’d needed stitches, of course, but it hadn’t been much worse than that. Only one of the branches had gone deep into her leg; she just had to stay overnight so they could watch for signs of infection.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Dean? On an ambulance? I swear, you can find a da–”

He was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Castiel stuck his head in. “You ready, Dean?”

Dean smiled. “Yeah.” He kissed Charlie on the forehead and said, “Don’t wait up.”

“Bye, Cas!” said Charlie with a giggle. “Take good care of my brother!”

“I’m off duty,” said Cas with a wink. “Maybe tonight he can take care of me.”

Inktober with the Bunker || Day 5: Medic/Firefighter

a concept:

sonny making breakfast for barba before work. barba finally dragging himself out of bed and taking his time getting dressed bc he’s busy enjoying the feeling of the weak sunlight on his skin.

he leaves the bedroom and sonny hands him a mug of coffee, grinning from ear to ear bc it’s moments like these, these tender moments where both of them are happy and relaxed that make him remember he’s in love.

barba’s sipping his coffee in silence, watching his half-dressed boyfriend hum over a pan of scrambled eggs. after a moment, barba hums with him, slightly muffled by the coffee cup raised to his lips. sonny sets a plate of eggs and bacon on the counter and wipes his hands on his apron (YALL KNOW SONNY OWNS AN APRON THAT SAYS KISS THE CHEF ON IT)

logicalbookthief  asked:

Ah, I hope you have a fantastic trip to Italy, I'm sure you'll have a blast! I'm actually planning to study abroad there myself, but next semester 😄 And if you're still looking for prompts to wile away the long plane ride, maybe an alternative pov of someone Dick works with in the police department reacting (maybe unintentionally eavesdropping on?) to seeing his father, billionaire and apparently very concerned parent Bruce Wayne, when he's seriously injured on the job

Thank you! I’m having fun so far, for the most part. Today’s the first day I’ve had that I can finally take a break and breathe, and I’m finding that I’m feeling just a tad bit home sick. Still, this whole experience has been amazing.

I hope you have a wonderful trip abroad yourself! Thanks for the prompt!

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He and Grayson had taken all the necessary steps to make sure everyone would come out of that situation unharmed, and yet—and yet it had been Grayson who’d taken that bullet. That bullet that had been meant for Officer Derek Wilhelm’s heart.

Because if Grayson hadn’t pushed him aside, Derek would have been leaving the hostage-held bank in a body bag. Grayson had said they were lucky. That just because Grayson was the only one in the hospital things were better.

But it should have been Derek. Not Richard Grayson. Grayson had saved his life, and all Derek could think to do to repay the man was sit in vigil at his bedside, just waiting for Grayson to wake up from the anesthetic.

He’d expected it to be a quiet time, spent in silence and self-hatred. What he doesn’t expect is for the door to bang open and a man dressed to the nines to come storming in, an old man in a weird suit and an angry doctor trailing behind him.

“I don’t care how rich you are,” the doctor is saying. “This is a hospital. We have rules here. And you can’t see Mr. Grayson until he gives permission for you to visit him. You’re not on his contact list.”

“Check it again,” the man says, barely giving the doctor more than a glance before he’s striding towards the bed. Towards Grayson. Towards Derek.

Derek stands up, hand creeping towards his belt. “Excuse me, sir, but the doctor said you don’t have permission to be in here.”

The man’s face doesn’t change, but there’s more than a hint of anger in his voice when he speaks again. “Screw permission.” He points to the bed. “That’s my son, and you can’t keep me from seeing him when he’s just been shot—”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor says, a bit quieter and with somewhat more empathy. “But you’re not exempt from the rules Mr. Wayne. Especially since Officer Grayson was on duty.”


Derek starts, whirling around to see Grayson blinking away the last dredges of sleeping. He isn’t looking at Derek, though, or the doctor or the old man. No, he only has eyes for who Derek’s put together to be Bruce Wayne. Richard Grayson’s adopted father.

Derek stands down, and Bruce Wayne walks right past him to Grayson’s bedside.

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Tom Hiddleston’s neck vein appreciation post

It doesn’t take courage to kill someone. It takes a severe lack of moral stamina.

ASOUE week day 1: Favourite Episode/Book

The Hostile Hospital

I recently re-read it for the first time in many years (that makes me sound old lol) and it’s quickly become my favourite. It’s probably one of the creepiest books, if not the creepiest. 


ever wonder what Hamilton would sound like with Star Wars characters in the cast? me neither, but @cstrawnster wanted to hear “Your Obedient Servant” as a duet between Obi-wan and Maul, so here that is!