why were there so many cops at burning man this year

Shit I Pulled In High School

So my friend and I got talking about the good old days and it hit me that I’ve probably got some mildly entertaining tales from my teenage years ( which only ended four years ago I can’t believe I made it to 23 )

So here’s a few of the shenanigans Hot Mess High School Me got into ~

( I went to a weird school that threw grades 7 -12 together in the same buildings so this is at the same school the whole time just not divided into middle school and high school )

7th Grade

- Made the art teacher gasp because I knew a surprising amount about Medieval art styles ( I’m obsessed with history and the Medieval era is just such a hot mess of a time)

- Got scolded in Math class for reading , learned to read more stealthily

- Memorized the coded language from ’ Vladimir Todd ’ , a popular teen book series about a sarcastic teenage vampire who just wants to be normal, and used it to write notes in class

Eventually this resulted in my getting sent to the counselor because the teacher suspected me of being a cult leader

I ran with that assumption and to this day the school still thinks I founded the cult of Vladimirism , a cult devoted to the protection and support of rebellious teen outcasts , queer kids , and unfairly treated main characters ( we’re a small cult but we are very nice and membership is free , we spread love and rebellion , our mascot is a baby bat )

- Started a week long debate on sexism in history class with my teacher , which resulted in him actually awarding the most fervent arguers a free soda

Turned out it was just a scam of his to see how many of us were actually morally upstanding , and which ones were rooted deep in the patriarchal bullshit .

I got a soda AND a candy bar because I kicked off the debate by asking

“ We talk a lot about oppressed groups but we haven’t talked about women yet, do you think women aren’t oppressed?”

Which got a sexist boy in back to go “ Women don’t count ”

And I snapped back “ Women can count higher than YOU”

8th Grade

- Caused an ethical , moral, and spiritual debate in my Seminary class over abortion that ended with three girls declaring themselves Athiests

- Accused my Seminary Teacher of racism and sexism for his assumption that God is white and male

- Got kicked out of Seminary for arguing with the teacher about God hating gay people , and instead of going back in after ten minutes I just left and went to my friend’s house

- Called out my chemistry teacher for overlooking the accomplishments of women in the scientific fields

- Accidentally became a student librarian because I spent so much time there and I memorized the book keeping system

- Was officially the most well-read student and got an award for checking out over thirty books in a month

9th Grade

- Got suspended because a teacher heard me singing P!nk’s “ Fun House ” and thought the lyric ’ burn this sucker down’ was a threat of arson so I got to meet the Sheriff ( who incidentally was the father of one of my classmates and who still invited me to his daughter’s birthday party the next week ) and even though Sheriff Brooks was intimidating I cry REALLY easily so I got off with a warning despite me never remotely intending to burn my school down

I got suspended for a week but it was actually fine , and the Sheriff was super chill to me after that

- Was extra enough to get voted Most Dramatic in the yearbook

Was it because I frequently flopped down on the floor to nap if I was tired?

Or was it my complete overreaction to anything unexpected?

Maybe it was my scathing remarks to everything

’ Do you want to be study buddies’

’ Brittany, why would I want to study with someone with can’t spell their name right ’

Or my dramatic reactions to anything even slightly inconvient


’ It’s just raining calm down ’

’ dude I’m more concerned about the fact she referred to US as mortals but not her? ’

’ Aw man , the cafeteria is out of pudding cups ’


” What? What prophecy? “

10th Grade

- Got caught writing fan fiction in class but didn’t get in trouble because my teacher was a hardcore Harry Potter fan and he just wanted to read the story
( it was a Weasley Twins Deathly Hallows AU and I’ll post it on ao3 if you wantttt)

- Skipped school like six times to watch Inuyasha with my friend Melanie ( I faked being sick and just went to her house instead of going home)

- Became the school’s top badass because I stealthily orchestrated the expulsion of every kid who bullied me or my siblings and never got caught

( hey Ashley Bassett if you’re reading this I snitched on you , and I don’t regret it )

11th Grade
- Planned a prank that scared my U.S.Marine drama coach so much he almost called in reinforcements

I got my whole Drama class to fake a murder scene in the auditorium because Tony ( our coach) said we didn’t act dead convincingly .

So we faked a Sweeney Todd worthy slaughter fest , making it appear as though thirty teens were brutally murdered .

It was GLORIOUS. My friend Indi runs out into the hall , knowing Tony is just entering the building , and he first thing Tony sees is an apparently mortally wounded kid running toward him, gasping out last words.

’ They…got …us …They got all of us….run….SAVE YOURSELF ”

And then Indi collapses right there , looking for all the world like he’s dead , and poor Tony just panics and burst into the auditorium , flips the lights on, and screams

We listen to him freak out for a minute, but as he pulls out his phone to call the cops , Indi sneaks up behind him and taps his shoulder and goes “ Was that convincing enough, Tony? ”

Tony about fainted

12th Grade

- Snuck the name Sasuke Uchiha into every assignment

- Turned Naruto Running into a thing at my school

- Caused an existential crisis for my English teacher by suggesting that everything we experience could be fictional and we could be fictional characters unaware we don’t exist , and that death is simply someone finishing our book , but there’s no way to probe or disprove this theory because this reality (?) is all we know

- secretly wrote cryptic riddles in my school books for the next student to find

- The words ’ Bankai’, ’ Hollow’ and ’ soul reaper’ got banned in class because teachers thought it was a cult thing and none of us discouraged that thought

anonymous asked:

Has Batman ever had encounters with Harley and Ivy as Bruce Wayne? Would he ever try using that part of his identity to help them or any other of his rogues, for things like trying to start a new life away from villainy and such?

Someone was in Bruce Wayne’s office, and there was no graceful way to avoid them without making it obvious that he knew they were in there. There was a smell in the air like mulch and roses.

He had no frame of reference for what would constitute a normal amount of things to notice, and so chose to err on the side of oblivious moron.

If there’d been a smell like marzipan dipped in bleach, he might have chosen differently.

“Heya, Mister Wayne,” Harley Quinn greeted, sitting on his desk. She waved as much with her feet as her hands. He closed the door behind him.

Bruce considered his response. Hopefully his momentary indecision with regard to his facial expression could pass for surprise, or confusion, or fear. “Hello, Dr. Quinzel.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not with Jay no more.”

“She’s with me,” Poison Ivy said.

“Hello, Dr. Isley.”

“I really prefer Ivy.”

“Dr. Ivy,” he corrected.

“Doncha love the way he says doctor?” Harley asked Ivy.

“Charming,” Ivy said. She did not sound charmed.

“I told her we oughta come talk to ya,” Harley explained, “on account of you’re a real nice guy an’ all.”

“Thank you?”

“I was just going to kill you,” Ivy added.

“Thank you. For not doing that.”

“Isn’t he just like a puppy?” Harley asked, pressing her hands to her cheeks.

“You can’t keep him.”

Keep reading

Who You Are (Part 2)

Originally posted by peteyspider

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2,781

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of alcohol use (I think that’s it?)

Summary: You are on a mission of your own when you get caught by a certain superhero.

Part 1 

There was never a time in your life that you thought you would ever come in contact with a superhero. Nonetheless The Spider-Man. Sure, you had seen him on television many times over the past seven years—since he first appeared as a superhero— but seeing him in person was like nothing you could have imagined. He was pretty lean compared to the other superheroes, but you could see the definition of his muscles through the tight suit. You could tell from your position that he most likely nearly towered over you. As you were scanning him up and down, he let out a cough.

You could feel the burning of your cheeks as you looked back up at the white sockets, where his eyes would be. You could suddenly feel the pressure of the flash drive sitting in your hand and slowly bring it slightly behind you, while keeping your eyes on him.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Do you think you can be more original?” You snap back at him. He’s quiet for a moment, but you can’t tell what he’s doing because of the mask that covers his whole face.

“I think you have something that doesn’t belong to you,” he finally says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I guess we are doing this the hard way then,” he suddenly webs the wrist holding the flash drive and pulls you towards him so you are chest to chest. His left hand is holding the wrist of your fisted hand, and your face is inches from his. Your breath hitches and before you realize it, the flash drive is gone. It’s then your teammates begin to speak.

“Y/N? Do you have the flash drive? Where are you?”

The only thing you can utter comes out as a soft whisper, “Spider-Man.”

“Shit. I knew this would happen,” Rick groans, “Ida we’ve got to go.”

You break from the spell and rip your wrist out of his hand. Anger bubbles within you and you take a couple steps back.

“You guys aren’t serious!” I scoff.

“Sorry Y/N, but we can’t get caught again.” You hear a quiet click and you know they are gone. Fuck.

“Some friends you’ve got there.”

“We aren’t friends. I’ve only known them for two months.”

“I’d hate to send such a pretty girl to jail, but you broke the law,” Spider-Man reaches to grab your arm, but you flinch away.

“You don’t know what this company has done to thousands of people. They’ve lost their jobs, their money, even their homes. We were just trying to give the people their money back.” You try to explain, but the police are closing in on you and soon enough you’re being handcuffed. They lead you out of the building and you keep your head down. Once you reach the doors, you glance back to see that Spider-Man had already disappeared.

You rubbed your sore wrists from where the handcuffs had sat before they were taken off. You decided to clasp your hands together in front of you as you wait for the detective to come and talk to you. Your eyes scan around the interrogation room, noticing specifically, the large rectangular two-way mirror on the left of you. What have you gotten yourself into?

Your attention is drawn away by the sound of the door opening. In comes a tall man in a black suit. You study him. You can clearly tell that he’s been working this job for many years by the tired lines across his face, and the slight graying of his hair.

“Good afternoon Miss L/N. My name is Sergeant Stan Carter,” he says as he closes the door.

You don’t say anything and continue to stare blankly at him. He comes towards the other side of the table you are sitting at and sets down a folder with your name on it.

“Trying to rob from Oscorp wasn’t a very good idea for you and your friends. In fact it was pretty stupid.” He stares at you pointedly. “Speaking of your friends, where are they?”

Although you are angry at them for leaving you, you stay quiet. You didn’t want to say anything that you may regret or get you into anymore trouble than you are already in.

“It mustn’t have been hard to get you to work with them. From what I have here, it looks like your father lost his job from Oscorp. So, you did this for what? Revenge?”

You try not to let the Sergeant’s words get to you. He didn’t know what they are doing. No one outside of Oscorp did. You had the opportunity to help someone else’s family, but you failed. This is why you didn’t do field work. You always fucked up.

“Says here your mother is gone. Left you before you turned one…that must’ve been hard knowing your own mother didn’t want you.” You began to clench your jaw, and your hands moved to form fists.

“I understand that you were also quite the outcast at school. Kids said you were weird. So is that why you joined that little band of amateurs? You felt accepted for once?” He taunted. At the point you had enough. You shot up from your seat and slammed your hands on the table; but before you could get a word out, the door opens once again.

“Sergeant. There’s a Nick Fury here to see you,” a petite woman in a cop uniform interrupts. She sees me standing over the Sergeant and looks to him and asks, “Is everything okay in here?”

“Everything is fine,” he dismisses her. He sighs and stands up. “We’re not finished here.” You sit down and put your head in your hands, slightly pulling on your hair in frustration. Sergeant Carter doesn’t come back in for another twenty minutes, but when he does, he opens the door and growls, “Well…it looks like we won’t be continuing this conversation. You’re off the hook.”


“We’re done here. Your stuff is at the front.”

You stare at him with disbelief before standing up and walking past him, through the door. The female police officer introduces herself as Officer DeWolff. She guides you to the doors where your personal belongings were being held and sends you on your way. Once you reach outside, you immediately notice a man with an eyepatch leaning against a black SUV staring directly at you.

“Y/N L/N. My name is Nick Fury, I am the director of a government organization called S.H.I.E.L.D. I would like you to take a ride with me.”

“I don’t know who you are, why should I just hop into a strange car with some guy who claims to be part of the government. What would the government want with me?” You can’t imagine what they would want with you. You had stayed on the down low with your powers all your life. There’s no way they could know.

“Just get in the car,” he says as he opens the door.

You humph and hop into the passenger seat, crossing your arms. He closes your door, and walks around to the driver’s side, gets in, and starts the car. He pulls away from the curb and starts driving away from the jail.

“May 5th, 2013. A 16 year old who was paralyzed from the waist down from a car accident was suddenly able to walk. She went to your high school. As a matter a fact, she was one of your closest friends.”

You try to keep a poker face when he brings up your only best friend. “I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

“You were the last person that saw her before she got out of bed and started walking.”

“So what? You think I did something to help her? That I healed her paralysis? That’s impossible.” You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“September 27th, 2015. A man claims a young girl cured his blindness and gave him his sight back. He just so happened to be your neighbor, whose children you babysat.”

“You must be mistaking me for someone else.”

“Then prove me wrong.” He glances at you and raises his eyebrow. You stare at him with disbelief and sigh.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to join my team. I think you could be a vital asset to the Avengers. You could be saving lives.”

“What if that isn’t something I want to do?” You weren’t a hero. You didn’t even know if your powers were a gift or a curse. When you healed someone, a little part of you suffered from it. You’ve gotten nosebleeds, severe headaches, and even a seizure. The more you used your power, the more damage you did to your body. Could you really do this on a daily basis?

“You don’t have to decide now. I’ll give you a month to give me your answer.” Fury continues as he pulls up to your apartment building. He turns his head in your direction, “Do we have a deal?”


A week had passed since you spoke with Director Fury. You still couldn’t make a decision, so instead you procrastinated by carrying on with your daily routine, going to school, calling your father, and working your part-time job as a bartender.

After a long day at school, you were ready to settle down on the couch and watch a little bit of t.v. before heading off to work. As you walked into the kitchen, you passed your old-school landline phone and saw the light flashing, letting you know you had a voicemail. You walked over to the phone hanging on the wall and pushed the button. You were not expecting to hear him completely drunk.

“Hi honeyyy, I jus wan’ ed ta talk to ya. I miss youuu soooooo mush. Okayy, byeee.”

You were shocked. He rarely ever got drunk, but when he did it was because— You jogged over the the calendar hanging on your pantry door and looked for today’s date. Today marks the day of your mother's’ “disappearance”. You had never known her. Dad says he doesn’t know what happened to her. She just didn’t come home one day. He called the police department and put out a missing person paper. The police investigated, but the whole trail was cold. They assumed that she left willingly.

Your father hasn’t taken it well since. You quickly get your purse and sweater and rush out of your apartment door. Since the subway wasn’t a far walk from your apartment, you decide to take a train to Queens where your father lived. The ride there felt longer than usual. You sat in one of the seats closest to the door and put in your headphones. You decided to look around the train and noticed brown eyes staring back at you.

He was wearing a t-shirt with some nerdy science pun, jeans, and his hair was parted on the side, which was kept in place by hair gel. He realized you saw him staring and blushed, looking down at his feet. You smiled slightly before looking away.

The train came to a stop and you walked quickly out, making your way towards your fathers home. Just as you had reached his street, you heard a loud explosion and screams. You turn toward where the sound came from and start running as fast as you can. When you get there, there are many people lying in the streets wounded, others running, and the arrival of police and firefighters. You feel something swing past you, and you turn around to see Spider-Man making his way to where the explosion took place.

“Help me! Please! I need help!” Screams a woman straight ahead of you. You pull up the hood of your sweater so it hides a majority of your face and rush towards her to find that she has a deep laceration on the side of her stomach. You quickly place your hands where she is holding hers and tell her to move them. You can feel the thick warm blood coating your hands as you close your eyes and focus on slowing the flow of blood.

“I need a paramedic!” You shout once you accomplish your task. One of them hears you and starts rushing towards you and the woman. You back away as he and his partner take over for you. You continue to help others that are injured, not healing them completely, but making sure they were stable. All of a sudden you hear a crashing sound and see Spider-Man fighting something you had seen before, but not quite the same.

The creature resembled Venom. Venom was once a man until an alien parasite called a symbiote gave him spider-like powers—much like Spider-Man’s. Unlike Spider-Man though, he killed anyone that got in his way. This creature was not Venom. His symbiote gave him a blue suit. This new guy was red.

Spider-Man and the creature are in the middle of the street, hundreds of feet from the injured civilians. Spider-Man goes to punch the Venom look-a-like, but is stopped short when his fist is engulfed by a larger, red hand a foot away from the creature’s face. He then throws him into the side of a bus. Spider-Man hits it so hard he leaves a large dent before falling onto the ground. The creature runs towards him, but before he could attack, Spider-Man shoots a web at a street lamp and swings away to the top of a car. Agitated, the creature roars and picks up the bus, throwing it at Spidey’s position. He tries to swing away again, but it’s too late. Somehow he gets up and shoots webs with both of his hands at the monster’s arms and goes in for what looks like a drop kick. The creature catches him by the throat and then throws him through a building. He lets out another roar and then disappears, swinging away into the darkness.

You waited for Spider-Man to come out, but he never did. You became worried, even though he had put you in jail the week prior, and take off towards the building. You have always admired what he did. Saving lives no matter the cost. You couldn’t just leave him. As you came close to the building you felt a sharp pain in your head. Dammit. I’ve healed so many people, what if I can’t help him? You ignore the thought, refusing to give up easily. You make your way to the doors and immediately start climbing the stairs. The lights of the ceiling are torn out, furniture, paper, and glass are scattered all around the floor.

You spot him laying on top of a broken cabinet, not moving. You do your best to get through the mess and once you get to him, you kneel down and feel his chest for breathing. You glance down his body and see cuts and bruises peeking out of his torn suit. You look back at his head and see the mask is still on. You hesitantly reach your hand towards the bottom of his mask and slowly start to raise it.

Your movement is stopped short when a hand suddenly grabs your wrist, yanking it away from his mask. He raises his head to look at you, but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him. He must not still be sure of you because he doesn’t release your wrist.”

“You’re the…girl from the Oscorp…robbery,” he winces as he tries to speak.

“Damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t remember me,” you say teasingly.

“I could never forget a face like yours,” he replies. A smile begins to grow on your face.

“I can help you if you let go of my wrist.”


“Let go,” he releases you and you put your hands over his chest. You close your eyes and feel a tingling sensation running through your arms to your hands. You don’t stop until he suddenly sits up and says, “You’re bleeding.”

You shakily raise your hand to your nose and wipe away warm liquid. You look down at your hand to see a tiny pool of blood, and glance back up at him before the most painful migraine comes over you. You feel your eyes roll in the back of your head and blackness fills your sight.

Part 3

Tagging: @littlefrenchnuage @my-bitch-loki

Let me know if you would like to be tagged! :)

So I did this thing...

First ever Pitch Fanfic… Be Kind… I “edited” this after work… sorry if I missed more than a few errors… This notion of a tattoo has me feeling some type of way… Shout out to the fandom you inspire me everyday… and @megaphonemonday for throwing me down the hole of this trope :)

Tell Me What You Want

Whoever thought it was a good idea to play truth or dare deserved bad things.  The team was was away in Cincinnati and had unanimously voted against going out to the bars after the game.  Sonny was still bitter about the TMZ thing and everyone else was on notice and ordered to keep their indiscretions to a minimum.  So some genius came up with the bright idea to stay in tonight and drink a few beers in Blip’s suite.  Minus Mike, all the usual suspects were present.  

Everyone dismissed Old Man Lawson’s absence on account that he had been in a foul mood for the past two days.  Everyone assumed it had something to do with Rachel, and left it alone.

Ginny wanted to care, but things were finally coming into place.  She had recovered flawlessly and was playing her best ball.  Amelia was back and had finally learned the meaning of boundaries, and Ginny had made it a point to check in with her mom and Will at least once week.  Rehab put things into perspective and family needed to be on some level a priority.  Rehab also taught her that you find out who your real friends are when the tide has turned, and it’s not looking so good.

The entire team rallied around her.  Took her to appointments, even the guys who had always been a bit rougher around the edges were more than supportive.  But she would have never imagined her Captain would essentially vanish.  He was there when she woke up in the hospital.  She remembered reaching for his hand when the doctor told her that she had elbow tendinitis.  She would recover and play again.  But Mike disappeared.  No late night calls, no surprise visits, nothing.  

Ginny had heard through Evelyn that he was back with Rachel.  The information didn’t come out easily and Evelyn knew the effect it would have on her, but she needed to know.  At that moment Ginny decided that she needed to move on and past wanting a man that didn’t want her and was still very much love with his ex wife. Even if she felt like time froze when they occasionally made eye contact that lasted for far too long, or when she violently tried to forget that night at Boardners.  She wanted to forget his hand on her lower back.  She wanted to forget his scent that is so distinctively Mike and so distinctively amazing.  She wanted to forget that for that very real moment, he wanted to be with her too.  But the moment passed.  He was with Rachel, and that was the end of it.

Needless to say his absence came as a reprieve to Ginny.  There’s only so many angst filled outings with the guys she could take.

“How about a game of truth or dare?” Javanes suggested as Blip rolled his eyes.

The suggestion was questionable but he got no nays and this version of truth or dare turned out to be a hybrid of truth or dare and kangaroo court.  

Overwhelmingly, the guys including Ginny chose truth and were surprisingly honest about every lucid detail.  Sonny proved to be worst than TMZ because he had the scoop on everyone.  He got Dusty to admit to that rendezvous in Miami with German twins.  Blip admitted to crying during the remake of Beaches, and Butch verified that the alleged picture of him in pink boy shorts does in fact exist.  And Livan didn’t exactly confirm or deny hooking up with 2 Kardashians.  It was all fun and games until Ginny’s horsey laugh came to an abrupt stop.  Sonny said that next person had to chose dare and of course Ginny was next.  

Ginny squared her shoulders, never one to back down.  Not to mention, she figured Papi would take it easy or her… at least she had hoped he would.

“Alright Papi, what you got?” Ginny asked.

“Ok.. don’t kill me Mami, but inquiring minds want to know… where is your hidden tattoo?”

Ginny’s face instantly burned red.  One little report and overnight #BakersTAT was a thing that even Elliot couldn’t stop.  All these years she had managed to keep it hidden and somehow someone somewhere caught wind of it.  Ginny knew she would eventually be outed, but she was hoping that would be sometime after she got the damn thing removed. The guys wouldn’t leave it alone for weeks and she thought the story was finally old news… But she couldn’t back down from this now, especially not after what Butch and Blip had just copped to.

“This is so messed up,” Ginny sighed running her fingers through her hair.

“Alright since no one is going to let this go.. ever..” Ginny started.

“I will show it to you Livan and you can confirm its existence,” Ginny explained to a sea of grumbles from the guys apart from Livan who was grinning from ear to ear.

Livan looked like he had hit the lottery, but he knew that if she showed it to anyone it was going to be him. He and Ginny were inseparable, real friends.  Livan was finally understanding the true Ginny.  Not in the way that Lawson did, he doubt they ever would have the connection that she and Lawson had, but it worked for them.  Livan didn’t know what caused the rift between Mike and Ginny, but it was palpable.  There was a great divide there that everyone felt.  But Livan didn’t ask and Ginny didn’t tell.

Ginny ushered Livan into the bathroom of the suite and closed and locked the door.  

“You’re a little shit, you know that Papi?” Ginny asked, smoothing her hair out of her face.

“Of course, but you would’ve pulled the same thing if you had something on me,” Livan stated.

“Duly noted,” Ginny said with a nod and a smirk that scared Livan just a tad bit.  He knew Ginny wouldn’t forget, and he would get his eventually.

“Well you’ll have plenty of time to cook up your revenge later Mami.  You know you can trust me, I won’t tell anyone what or where it is.”

“You can’t Livan,” Ginny added finally realizing that she was going to do this.  She could’ve easily said no; not even Evelyn knows about her tattoo.  Livan was her friend.  She was sure he would have questions…questions she really didn’t have the answers to, but she did trust him.

“I won’t Baker,” Livan said in a serious tone as the guys obviously fought to eavesdrop from behind the door.

Ginny slowly took off her teal Nike racerback tank to reveal her blush Nike sports bra.  She would be lying if it didn’t surprise her how big Livan’s eyes got.  Their relationship had molded into best friends / brother/sister territory, but his expression was strained and Ginny found it slightly amusing.

Ginny peeled up the left side of her sports bra, along her ribcage and she heard the loud inhale from Livan.  She hadn’t made eye contact with him before she heard him ask, “How long have you had that?”

“I got it when I was 18,” Ginny said, her voice slightly above a whisper.  Livan didn’t look surprised, his expression was almost sad.  The entire clubhouse knew there was always something between Mike and Ginny.  Livan knew Mike couldn’t possibly be that stupid to try to start something with Ginny.  But Livan had also witnessed on more occasions than he could count Mike staring at Ginny like he depended on her every word to live.  No man looks at a woman like that that isn’t completely and fully in love with her.  It’s only now that he realizes that Ginny is in love with Mike too.  

It wasn’t the small 36 in ink that gave it away, but the many conversations he had had with Ginny about getting her tattoo removed that came rushing into his mind like a flood.  Ginny had many opportunities and down time to get it removed, made appointments to go even, and yet she didn’t.  

Livan didn’t have to ask because he knew Mike didn’t know about this.  

“Well say something,” Ginny said fidgeting with her fingers after she put her shirt back on.

“I know the Old Man is senile, I just hope he’s not stupid.” Livan said, giving Ginny a weak smile.  


Arriving back to her own apartment was new, but it was an upgrade from the Omni; she would adjust.  No sooner than she had set her gear down, hopped in the shower, and climbed in her bed, her phone rang.

“So, why wasn’t I invited to the Padres sleep over?” She heard from a grumpy voice.

“You were, you turned us down.. remember?” Ginny replied.

“I turned down groupies, bad music, and cellphone paparazzi.  But I could’ve been persuaded to witness you and your boyfriend’s first 7 minutes in Heaven,” Mike quipped.

“And just that quick, this conversation is over,” Ginny said with a little more bite than she intended.

“Not so fast Rook, geez, I remember the days when you could take a joke,” Mike huffed out.

“Well I’m not in the mood Lawson.  I just want to relax and not hold this phone,” Ginny said as snuggled further into her bed.  

“Well then come to the door and we can talk face to face, no phone required.”

Mike heard a dial tone and heavy feet stride to the door.  This was likely a bad idea, showing up at Ginny’s apartment, unannounced and uninvited.  But he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.  He needed to get to the bottom of all the chatter about Ginny and Livan.  Blip was convinced that it was harmless and that they were more like brother and sister than anything else.  But Mike knew he would be hard pressed to find any man in that clubhouse that wouldn’t lose his shit over an opportunity to spend time with Ginny Baker.  And Ginny and Livan were close.  A hell of a lot closer than he would ever like them to be.  But he couldn’t be the dick that kept Ginny and Livan from developing as battery mates.  He hated it, but Ginny’s game depended on having a great catcher, even if it wasn’t him.

His thought was instantly broken when she opened the door.  Her curls were still wet; a few drops had dripped down to her very thin gray tank top… and holy boy shorts.  Small. White. Tiny. Boy Shorts.  Long, toned, caramel legs in those boy shorts. A perfect pear shaped ass in those boy shorts. 

“Why are you here Lawson?” Ginny asked conjuring up more irritation than she actually felt. Her favorite Lawson was here, the one who wore Henleys and looked at her like she was the most precious and sexiest thing in the world.  

Rachel.  Ginny remembered, as her internal cold shower washed over her.

“May I come in?” Lawson asked as Ginny stepped to the side. Mike fought like hell to not look at her ass as she slid by, but failed as he caught a trace of the coconut scent he had grown so fond of.

“So are you going to tell me about Show and Tell or not?”

“Of all the things that came out that night, that’s what’s got you so worked up? Drop it Lawson,” Ginny said grabbing a bottled water from her fridge.

“I wouldn’t call this worked up Baker, just asking a question… a question you seem hell bent on avoiding,”

“None of your business,”

“This team is my business,”

“Here we go… seriously Mike, what is your problem? Your mood swings are making me nauseous.  If this team was your business, where the hell were you during my rehab?  The rest of the team was there. Where were you?” Ginny spat out.  “You don’t get to lecture me about the team…” Ginny said exasperated.  Ginny was so tired of this hot and cold bullshit.

“What exactly are we talking about here Gin?” Mike said feeling the heat in his face.

“Are we talking about the team? Rehab? Your rules? Your every attempt to keep me away!”  Mike yelled.

“Keep YOU away?  I wasn’t the one who bailed on their teammate Mike.. I wasn’t” Ginny stopped as Mike headed to the door.

“Gin, I’m tired of arguing. I’m tired of it.  Tell me what you want.”

“Mike I don’t want to argue either, but..”

“Tell me what you want.” Mike said.  Ginny could feel the exhaustion in his voice.  She came and stood near him, willing her eyes not to water.

“The truth,” Ginny said, almost trembling.

“The truth… alright… the truth… Rachel and I split after your injury.  I was a wreck.  You got hurt and it was my fault.  Rachel made a few comments about me getting over it and injuries being apart of the game, but I didn’t want to hear it.  She said the first time we failed was because I was in love with baseball… this time she said we failed because….” Mike paused.

“It wasn’t your fault Mike, none of this was your fault.”

“I should’ve agreed to shut you down Gin, I should’ve..” Mike started as he felt Ginny’s hands clasp the sides of his face.  

“This was not your fault.” Ginny said looking him square in the eyes.  Mike cautiously wrapped his hands around Ginny’s waist and pulled her into him. Breathing her in, and muffling into her hair, he said one last time… “Tell me what you want.”

Ginny pulled back slightly from Mike, instantaneously missing his warmth.  With faux confidence, she slowly pulled her gray tank top over her head and tossed it on the floor.  Ginny paused before she lifted the soft pink thin fabric of her yoga bra slightly, just above her rib cage.  With her right index finger she gently tapped just below the number, his number.  She was exposed. Literally and figuratively.  When Ginny had enough courage to return her gaze to Mike his eyes had grown dark.

If ya’ll want more, tell me! Comments and thoughts are encouraged… 


Originally posted by mychemicalmaria

Pairing: Peter Parker X (Teleporting)Reader, Tony Stark X Pepper Potts

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: Mentions of a dark past, panic attacks, and an overload of heartfelt bonding

Adopting you after being discovered in not the best of circumstances, Tony has to struggle with the very idea of parenthood. And then also the idea that you’ve developed super powers. And then also that you have a boyfriend.

He could have dropped you off at an orphanage, could have just let you go and move on from the world of crazy scientists and terrorists. He could have… but he couldn’t. It riddled him with guilt and fear and second guesses but something about seeing a small child hooked up to a dozen monitors, head shaved and laden with surgical cuts, Tony just couldn’t leave you with someone and hope for the best.

So after quite a few court hearings and doctor’s visits it was, “Surprise Pepper, we have a kid!” And her pushing through a stone smile. “Can I talk to you. In private.”

But you were hard not to love. Patient and quiet, you had a shy smile when he gave you your own probably-too-big room filled with probably-too-many things.

“I uh, I didn’t know what kids these days liked so…”

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Lost Series // Part Eight

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five  Part Six  Part Seven

Pairing : Jerome x Fem. Reader

Requests are closed. xx

This will not be word for word from the episode because I don’t feel like re watching it. Lol.

Originally posted by savagepatchkidzzz

Originally posted by likeag69

 y/c/h - your color hair

Dying is a part of life. Eventually everyone dies and moves onto heaven or hell. You see, I never really believed in God. There are so many different religions with vivid descriptions and you never really know what’s real and what isn’t. But I did expect something.. Not pearly gates but something. There is nothing though. At the very least I expected to float around as a ghost or something. Haunting people that pissed me off.

Nothing but darkness.. Forever. Maybe I was in hell. And hell is nothing. There is no God. The Devil made him up so that people have faith and hope that if they’re good they can end up with their loved ones. Well, even if you’re a saint you’ll still end up in Hell.

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Matthew Daddario Quotes Pt. 2
  • "Is my butt my pumpkin?"
  • "Handing out side-eye like gravity pulls left."
  • "Go kiss a train!"
  • "Can I book this lady for my next birthday?"
  • "Punching isn't solving problems as much as usual."
  • "It's nice when you haven't read a book in ten years so you forget most of it and it's like reading it anew."
  • "Man, that was a sweaty, shirtless day."
  • "I'm not resisting this?"
  • "Vampires are cats?"
  • "Sometimes I write out the description of the face."
  • "You guys keep calling me a dork. Kind of a bummer."
  • "Like with the VROOM thing?"
  • "What if they don't like the same food as me? I can't handle that kind of let down."
  • "Plants are green sometimes."
  • "Oh, that's inappropriate!"
  • "They always open their mouths and they do this, 'Don't bother me!'"
  • "I get to travel more and learn about plants."
  • "If anyone reads this, don't curse. It's bad, and if you all start doing it all the time it won't be as fun when I do it."
  • "Still at home, making pickles."
  • "It helps if you imagine all the pigeons coo'ing at you and they just don't annunciate the 'L'."
  • "I just really want them to find Genghis Khan's tomb this year."
  • "Just chop the hand off to stop the spread."
  • "I'm sure many people have asked themselves that question when they were about 12 and thought 'Oh, what a great thought that was' and I just said it when I'm 29."
  • "They're definitely going at it head first."
  • "Tall guy and little dude need a cop show spin-off."
  • "I'm gonna press the button. Here we go. That's not a button."
  • "This is so deranged! What a sick thing."
  • "I'm a little more professional. I don't giggle when someone says something funny."
  • "Why do people play this game?"
  • "This has been a stressful experience."
  • "I must be really into burning the roof of my mouth when I eat pizza because I never. Freaking. Learn."
  • "Makes me wanna go to sleep."
  • "I don't understand what that sentence means."
  • "Is an eggplant really a plant? Has it in its name, but it's not an egg."
  • "So many lame puns to write, so many buns to touch."
  • "I was allowed to curse there."
  • "Hot sauce in my bag at all times. Always have hot sauce."
  • "I don't know the Pokemon situation. I'm not gonna lie."
  • "This is a morbid question."
  • "That's some information about plants."
  • "My mom is more impressive than your mom. That's truth."
  • "Yo, tall guy, you gonna use your words this episode to solve problems? Improve relationships?"
  • "This feels like a very personal question, BuzzFeed. I am tempted to make something up."
  • "Honestly, city people! Am I right?"
  • "My friend would punch me in the face."
  • "This is the plus happiness rune."
  • "I'm pressing the button! Beep!"
  • "I'm not gonna take off my shirt. Come on."
  • "Just threw so much shade that she's gonna have to take vitamin D supplements for life."
  • "Don't say inappropriate things on here. Come on, guys!"
  • "Dates are stressful. Just go home and see what happens."
  • "Literally just told you not to do that."
  • "If you don't agree, whatever!"
  • "Are these pop culture references that I'm not getting?"
  • "Lucky I'm here to provide therapy."
  • "They are getting a little sweaty and enjoying themselves together."
  • "Twins are sometimes made when an egg splits, I think."
  • "I can't reblog it because it would be narcissistic."
  • "Harry and Isaiah, who are not here, which is a bummer."
  • "I can't remember my first date. I'm sure it went splendidly."
  • "He's back home in London! Home of the world's largest skillet!"
  • "Wacky antics! Misunderstandings! Sexy interlopers!"
  • "Tell me how much you loved my sleeping."
  • "Teen dot com doesn't know their internet slang like we do!"
  • "Maybe he needs more of those forced memory flashbacks. Those seem healthy."
Beyonce Gets Political, and I Get Snatched Bald: An Overview of Themes and Motifs in the Formation Music Video

It is important that you know, I am not even a Beyonce stan like that. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the post I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced of Jacob Marley’s death before the play began, then there would be nothing remarkable about him showing up at his “business” partner’s house to bitch him out in the middle of the night.

It’s also important to note that Beyonce usually doesn’t go in for this sort of thing. She’s not really the Artist/Activist type. This video is the most political she has ever gotten, and I swear it took the convergence of Black Lives Matter, Black History Month, Mardis Gras, a Nat Turner Rebellion movie, the blatant disrespect of casting a white man to play Michael Jackson, and all the planets to bring us this blessing. Many have said Formation is the phrase, “I love my blackness, and yours.” given physical form. It is all that and more.

Originally posted by lahnvahn

This opening line prepares us for the realness to come

Let’s start with the fact that Formation features a voice over by Big Freedia the Queen Diva of NOLA Bounce. If you don’t know Bounce music, or you don’t know Big Freedia–and if you don’t know Bounce, you won’t know Big Freedia–let me direct you to Youtube so you can educate yourself. I recommend you start with Excuse, and Y’all Get Back Now. Big Freedia also has a very nice feature in Ru Paul’s Peanut Butter.

All throughout this video we are treated to imagery from Black queer culture, from Big Freedia’s voice-over, to dancers, to queens just slaying in the beauty shop. Again, if you are unfamiliar with the richness of Black queer culture, I direct you to the internet, because there’s just too much to explain. Start with Paris Is Burning on Netflix and go from there I guess? Like, literal books have been written and it is too big an undertaking for me alone. But Formation is an anthem for Black Femmes as much as it is for Blackness in general.

Originally posted by yoncehaunted

Beyonce heard all y’all talking that shit about “Why is her hair always done, but she can’t make sure her baby’s hair is done?” Uh, because Blue is a child, and that is her NATURAL HAIR, and she clearly is ROCKING IT.

In fact, this video features A WEALTH of natural hair, textured hair, weaves, perms, braids, Black hair in general.

Note: Baby hairs are small, fine, wispy hairs on your hairline that your mother would brush or gel in a specific way. If you don’t know what a baby hair is, ask a Black person, or someone with “ethnic” hair (gag).

Originally posted by yoncehaunted

Originally posted by freekumdress

Originally posted by 711vevo

In fact, every single person in this video is Black except for the cops.

And let’s talk about that scene

Originally posted by ecstasyformyears

A little black boy dancing his heart out in front of a line of cops in riot gear,

and the cops put their hands up. YES YES YES YES YESYEYSYESYES!!!!!

Originally posted by dorawinifredread

Please note the multiple nods to Majorette culture (okay ladies, now let’s get in formation, prove to me you got some coordination, slay trick or you get eliminated) which is very southern.

Formation is very southern

Originally posted by nerd4music

From Southern Gothic imagery

to people dressed for Mardis Gras

To the scenes with people dressed in 19th century Creole garb, in their parlors, with fans.

Now let’s examine some of the lyrics:

My Daddy Alabama, Mama Louisiana

This is more than a statement about Beyonce’s roots. The vast majority of Black Americans can trace their ancestry to the South, after many of us moved to northern cities in the Great Migration. To this day, the majority of Black people in the US live in the South. I’m a New Yorker for generations back on either side, but guess what? The family reunion each year is held in Virginia, because that’s where my people come from.

I like my negro nose and Jackson Five nostrils

There has literally never been a more full-throated, stalwart, stark as hell positive affirmation of Blackness in mainstream, popular media since the original Black Is Beautiful movement in the 60′s. Maybe not since the Harlem Renaissance? I predict In a few years, people will be inverting their contours and getting plastic surgery to achieve the coveted Jackson Five nostril. Only by then they’ll rename it something more palatable to the mainstream (Read: white people).

I got hot sauce in my bag

Let me tell you something about my septuagenarian Grandparents: they literally always have a bottle of hot sauce in their car. Like many retirees, they like to travel, take cruises, do old people stuff. Never have they ever gone anywhere without a bottle of hot sauce. Never has my grandfather been in a restaurant and not requested hot sauce–even though he always has his own.

As I type this, I have a bottle of hot sauce on my night stand, next to my bed. Why? Because I put that shit on everything, and it’s just more convenient to keep it handy. I put hot sauce on pepperoni pizzas. Sometimes I sip out of the hot sauce bottle like it’s a fine wine.

I make all this money, but they’ll never take the country out me

A reminder to never forget your roots, a statement about preserving your identity under the pressures of assimilation, or commentary on respectability politics–no matter how much money you make, how famous you become, you’ll always be Black to the powers that be? Trick question. It’s all three

Originally posted by northgang


Note: Red Lobster is known to be the de-facto Black date night restaurant. I have no idea why.

All of this culminates in Beyonce, sprawled atop a NOLA police car, sinking into the flood waters of Katrina. She metaphorically drowns the police in a flood caused by the colossal abdication of responsibility by those in power at the expense of the disenfranchised. She is prostrated on the symbolic corpse of the oppressor as it is subsumed by water.

I Literally Can Not.

Other images that made me want to praise dance:

  1. Black man riding a horse down the street. Little known fact, Black people were some of the first cowboys in the American west. For the most famous example, see the actual man The Lone Ranger is based off of.
  2. The newspaper with the picture of Martin Luther King and front page headline that read, “More Than A Dreamer.” A reference to the #ReclaimMLK movement, which is about countering the sanitized, white-washed, commodified version of his message with the reality of his radicalism.
  3. The fact that the portraits on the walls of the mansion are of Black women
  4. I slay, I slay, I slay

@crissle, @melinapendulum, @chescaleigh, @jemandthediazepams

Curiosity Kills the Cat

Part of Trying to leave him

Mark, Jaebum, Jackson, Jinyoung, Youngjae, BamBam, Yugyeom


B.A.P: Part I, Part II, Part III ; BTS: Part I, Part II, Part III; EXO: Part I, Part II, Part III; Got7: {coming soon}; Monsta X: Part I, Part II, Part III ; Dean: {Coming soon}

Characters: Youngjae x Original Character

Summary:  Curiosity kills the cat and if only you thought of that when you dug into Youngjae’s past. When you try to leave you find yourself trapped.

Word Count: 1761

This scenario will be group with all Got7 trying to escape him!

Note: Do not get involved with someone who hurts you or threatens you. Your mental and physical health are so much more important than anyone else. This is purely fictional.  I do not think any members are actually like this, but this is an au

Credit to gif owner


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Barber’s Point - 3

Fall - 1997

The door opened and the clatter as sharp instruments fell to the floor was cowbell in a concert hall loud.

“Ehi!  Fantasma!”

“Angelo, put the scissors down before I have to pull my gun.”

“Fox!  You fucker!  I heard you were a dead man!”  Angelo was in his arms and if he weren’t a small Italian with a penis whose hips Mulder was steering very well clear of, Mulder would be reminded of his little partner, an eternity and thousands of mosquito bites ago.  He was similarly touched, however.  

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50% OFF sentence starters

Because this show is hysterical. Send me one to see how my muse reacts. Feel free to alter pronouns and the like.

Trigger Warnings: So many violence/death/suicide mentions, drug references, some NSFW references

  • “I always thought swimming was kinda like doing somebody. You dive in, flop around a bit, and you either get booed or somebody gives you a medal. And then I found out swimming isn’t like that at all.”
  • “If you die, I get fired. And I like this job. People don’t ask questions here.”
  • “Everyone step away from the brain!”
  • “Aren’t you that kid that started that doomsday cult?”
  • “Are you upset? …Oh, who am I kidding, you’re always upset.”
  • “Nah, man, we didn’t go to prison, we went to holding. There’s a biiiiiig difference…”
  • “You’re gonna need a new back door.”
  • “They said they won’t let me back into sewing club, because apparently when I threaten someone with sewing needs, it’s deemed ‘inappropriate’ and I ‘have to leave.’”
  • “You’re so cute when you never shut up.”
  • “I’m not the Team Mom!”
  • “I have a daughter, somewhere. Doesn’t mean anything.”
  • “Five star hotel. Royalty, bitches!”
  • “I choose the greatest sport of all time: Gay Chicken.”
  • “So I’m in the backseat crying, [name] says we’ve gotta return the panda to the zoo, and then the brakes go out! Luckily, I still made it in time for my Pilates class.”
  • “Okay, [name]. Time to kill yourself.”
  • “Not me this time. This time, it’s 100% goofy, contrived fate.”
  • “This doesn’t seem like the time for polka renditions of Ke$ha songs.”
  • “You’re like our mom! The Team Mom.”
  • “What’s up, sluts?! Guess who just got outta prison?”
  • “You can’t spell ‘sass’ without ‘ass,’ and you’re being one.”
  • “He’s so hot but so crazy! Which makes him even more hot!”
  • “That boy ain’t right.”
  • “Oh my God, is he dead?! Why did you put him in the car?!”
  • “I love you, but please… shut up.”
  • “[Name] forced me to wear this. Don’t say anything.”
  • “No. No, you’re dead. I killed you.”
  • “Now, if you excuse me, I have to go spray-paint Illuminati symbols on my ex-wife’s house. She thinks I don’t know she’s involved, but I know. THE WORLD MUST KNOW.”
  • “Aren’t you that kid that was drinking a can of Raid through a bendy straw?”
  • “Homeboy looks like Shark Week. I ain’t messing with that.”
  • “Boom. Done. Advice over. Let’s go get shitfaced.”
  • “Is it weird for me to think he looks good in that swimsuit? I mean… really good. It’s totally not weird, right?”
  • “It feels like forever since you drowned [name] in the deep end and tried to burn down the swim club.”
  • “What did we say about voodoo? It’s only for cheap revenge and shrinking heads.”
  • “You say ‘you people’ like you’re not part of the family. Got some news for you: you’re already on the Christmas card.”
  • “Reports of my demise were, uh… greatly exaggerated.”
  • “Look, [name] is swimming his gay little heart for you.”
  • “[Name] tried to get me to vandalize a police station again. Can I get a ride home?”
  • “Good thing I wore my Heelies…”
  • “My parole officer says I need more extracurriculars.”
  • “Wonder if that stuff I hid is still here. …Nah, cops probably took it.”
  • “I think I hate him. Or love him. Whatever.”
  • “Hands are part of your arms! …This is why we don’t talk anymore.”
  • “Did you invite him to that weird nightclub where all the dancers are wearing gas masks?”
  • “This reminds me of prison!”
  • “You do exhibit rather… motherly behavior.”
  • “I know you can hear me down in Hell, you stupid jerk.”
  • “You’ll stay. Like it or not, you’re just like us.”
  • “They’re just too dumb to die.”
  • “We’re gonna go with dark magic today. We’ll call you if we need voodoo.”
  • “Yes, yes, we all demand blood.”
  • “Wait, I’m not done staring!”
  • “You still hang out in abandoned buildings?”
  • “I thought I was Zeus! …I WAS Zeus.”
  • “I can’t get you into the men’s locker room again.”
  • “[Name] and [name]?  Dead? Let me tell you something. Those two are literally impossible to kill. To prove a theory, I one time tried to just straight-up shoot ‘em with a real-ass gun. The bullet missed, ricocheted off a frying pan on the wall, and broke open a cabinet full of bottles, which I then tripped on and fell over. Hurt my pride more than anything…”
  • “[Name], I know you can’t read.”
  • “Yeah, I’ve seen that guy before. Cats go into his house, but… cats don’t come out of his house…”
  • “Back off, I called dibs like five years ago.”
  • “Bitch, you gonna be mine.”
  • “Look, I already visited the local church, mosque, synagogue, Satanic temple, Scientology center, Kingdom Hall, and I tweeted at Kanye. Just covering all the bases.”
  • “Didn’t we make a pact to stop her from doing this weeb shit?”
  • “I think that guard you killed had a family!”
  • “Why is your first suggestion always to break into [name]’s house?”
  • “Please call the police, because I look so good in this, it should be against the law. …Please don’t actually call the police, though, I WILL incriminate all of you.”
  • “You know what, this rescue mission doesn’t need your sass.”
  • “He’s probably in the shower, you know, washing the failure out.”
  • “One of you shot the [name] that can READ.”
  • “That was not a clown, that was my Juggalo friend. But your fear WAS warranted, he’s the one that set the pinata on fire.”
  • “It’s not just some simple task, like riding a bicycle, or cracking an egg, or committing premeditated murder.”
  • “This is getting ridiculous. We need a tutor or something.”
  • “Ten bucks says he dies.”
  • “Do not be alarmed. I am about to be hilarious.”
  • “You know what else is fun? Killing your best friend.”
  • “It may be hard to believe, but recently, I lost the ability to read.”
  • “I gotta go… not… talk to you to anymore.”
  • “Ohhhh… six-two, shark teeth, cries when you call him bitchbaby?”
  • “You took the fall for me, and I said ‘thank you.’”
  • “[Name], if I do die, there’s something I want you to do for me. I want a sweet-ass Viking funeral.”
  • “Your arrest record is extensive. And amateur.”
  • “I feel like you’re running out of solid shark references to call me.”
  • “Fuck it. Let’s do this.”
  • “You invited a party clown! I’m afraid of clowns!”
  • “I have to Tumblr this!”
  • “I thought this show was about drugs or something.”
  • “Oh, no… I got another flashback boner.”
  • “Let’s spend more nights in abandoned lighthouses.”
  • “Metaphorical? More like metaHORRIBLE! …ZING!”
  • “Yeah, I know, inner turmoil, identity crisis, whatever.”
  • “Ha, your ass just got Looney Tune’d.”
  • “I was just rooting around in the garbage at this boy’s house, and I found this!”
  • “Let’s just skip all the fluff and get to the part where we’re shirtless.”
  • “Were you having a goldfish-drinking contest? Because my record is eleven before I barf.”
  • “[Name], go to my house, open the third desk drawer, and burn everything inside! But hold your breath while you do it!”
  • “Thanks for the life lesson, ‘Boy Meets World.’ How’s YOUR repressed love life doing?”
  • “Was macing us really necessary AFTER you remembered who we were?”
  • “[Name], find your chill, my dude.”
  • “We’re gonna be date–LATE.”
  • “There were 398 votes for you. THERE’S FIVE OF US.”
  • “Did [name] just fall down the stairs wearing stilts?”
  • “I had advice from a person who literally doesn’t know what they’re doing at any time of day.”
  • “If you’re here to do your unsettling demon voice, it is not appreciated at this moment.”
  • “‘And then Crowley handcuffed Dean to the chair, roughly straddling his–’ WHOA! Okay! Let’s just, uh… let’s put that one in the backpack for safekeeping.”
  • “Man, I can’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning. Forty-five minutes ago is ‘way back’ for me.”
  • “I’m some stealing some chem equipment for some stuff, and I don’t want you small-time hoods messing that up.”
  • “You know what plausible deniability means, kid?”
  • “So anyway, I regain consciousness, there’s cops everywhere, [name]’s covered in blood, got an ice pick… heh-heh, it was kind of a weird Tuesday!”
  • “She’s a witch! Push her in the pool!”
  • “Look, dude, I don’t know what to tell you. I showed up late, you killed all these people, you started calling me ‘thrall,’ and all I know is that I’m missing pizza night for whatever this is.”
  • “Is this a regular flashback or a sexy flashback?”
  • “It wasn’t a dream! We got arrested for trespassing! WE WENT TO JAIL!”
  • “You have to worry about your safe-cracker, your ground control, your spotter, your bag man, your getaway – any of them could be farm-fresh, or worse… undercover.”
  • “How many guys you pair up on the way here?”
  • “A guy with emotional issues who swims away his problems? Lady, that’s the whole team. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
  • “I’m just saying… is it illegal if I’m in my OWN pool?”
  • “I need a soda. Or therapy. Probably both.”
  • “We erected several statues of you, as requested, but, uh, people aren’t really worshiping them. They’re just sorta… taking selfies in front of them…”
  • “Look at that majestic-ass motherfucker. Like a dolphin or some shit. A dolphin with legs. And arms. And a jetpack.”
  • “Now get back to it before you learn a lesson in urban post-war torture practices!”
  • “I broke in again.”
  • “If you continue your attempts at flirting, I will be forced to take drastic measures.”
  • “I went to jail! I learned things. Terrible things…”
  • “[Name] said we were gonna get baked and watch ‘Game of Thrones.’ I wanna see some tits.”
  • “I spent six months in a correctional facility! I stabbed a girl in the yard!”
  • “Bitch, don’t even fucking think about it.”
  • “[Name] was up all last night, jerking it to real porn like a weirdo.”
  • “You put five marijuana cigarettes in your mouth and refused to answer to us unless we called you ‘King Kush.’”
  • “Shut up, shut up, shut up! Shhhh! I smell boys being gay!”
  • “I see my reputation as a mastermind and entrepreneur precedes me.”
  • “Can’t prove nothing if they’re all dead.”
  • “I spent hours of research and studying. Minus that hour I had to spend calming down [name] after we watched The Notebook.”
  • “Come on, you can do me! It! It. You can do IT.”
  • “If I get out of this chair, I guarantee you’ll end up in one with wheels.”
  • “You guys ever wonder if we’ll meet someone normal?”
  • “We solved the curse of the island, and realized that the real ax-murderer was love all along.”
  • “Excuse me, I am trying to scream my feelings into your mouth.”
  • “Now we owe [name] a favor. That is NOT a position you want to be in.”
  • “That wasn’t hot. It was just fucking weird.”
  • “[Name]’s faster than she looks. And she tore through that chain fence like it was tinfoil!”
  • “This is it. This is the year I get my penis back from that dolphin who stole it.”
  • “So there’s me and [name], doing 80 in a 35, he goes right through the police blockade, I tell him to stop, he tells me there was something in the trunk… it was pretty much the best birthday ever.”
  • “I take boxing lessons at the Y. It started because K-pop concert security is tougher than it looks, but I just got hooked on the feeling of crushing someone’s face in with a solid right cross.”
  • “The election didn’t even matter that much; you cheated anyway.”
  • “I learned to swim the old-fashioned way. When I was five, my dad took me out to a lake and tossed me right out into the water. Making it to shore was easy. Getting out of the sack was hard, though…”
  • “Come on, [name], I put a LOT of money on you. Possibly against my better judgement.”
  • “I feel like I should argue this, but the potential for implied sexual antics is far too appealing.”
  • “That’s how they do it in Australia. And prison.”
  • “We’re all here ‘cause we’re not welcome anywhere else.”
  • “My baby can take it and dish it out! I am so turned on right now, I’m about half-mast.”
  • “He’s not my boyfriend. We were officially engaged in the fall. I’m thinking a spring wedding.”
  • “[Name], why are you getting naked?”
  • “Then you just take out your trusty lockpick, and you’re in!”
  • “Is there more to life than obsessing over two boys kissing?”
  • “This place just keeps getting dumber…”
  • “[Name], I love you, but you’re dumb as hell.”
  • “I’m not arrogant. I’m just that good.”
  • “I’m not taking care of your raccoon again!”
  • “I have to go scream confusing, end of the world ramblings at people under the freeway.”
  • “I’ll be on it like [name] on a centerfold spread.”
  • “Whatever. I did my time.”
  • “Still doing that weird demon thing to him?”
  • “Bed? But what about possible ax-murderers?”
  • “No! Stop! Don’t play the intro over me, that’s rude!”
  • “I’d do anything to you, [name]. FOR you!”
  • “Shut up, you’re high as balls!”
  • “Here I thought [name] was the craziest person you knew.”
  • “Just jerk it to hentai like a normal person.”
  • “I’ve got mace! The good shit, the kind they use on bears!”
  • “Did my sister send you here in an attempt to get us to emotionally reconnect?”
  • “You know how they say ‘sticks and stones may break my bones?’ Yeah, that’s not just a phrase…”
  • “Does anyone wanna hear my tragic backstory?”
  • “…You broke out, didn’t you?”
  • “I had a dream like this, once. You surprisingly had more clothes on, though, at least at the start.”
  • “Alright, so I didn’t wanna have to do this right at the start, but I represent a certain mutual acquaintance. One [name].”
  • “Hey, we try not to get this part of the gym wet, so whatever you’re doing is gonna have to stop.”
  • “You can’t have sex with your neighbor’s above-ground backyard pool.”
  • “Bodies… so hot. Brains… so dumb.”
  • “Well, piss in my asshole, I’m out like fifteen hundred bucks…”
  • “Aren’t you that guy that drowned a kid? And burned down that building? And sells Whip-Its under the bleachers?”
  • “Let me help you out of that swimsuit–POOL! The… the pool.”
  • “I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me how to swim. Or how to fuck Dean Winchester.”
  • “[Name]? Are you home? It’s me, [name]. …Okay, I’m gonna break in!”
  • “Only God to judge.”
  • “We’ve been banned from every pool in the area.”
  • “He’s delicate. Like a flower. Or a snitch’s collarbone.”
  • “So [name] pulls out a gun and decides to hold up the liquor store. He tells me to restrain the clerk, the clerk pulls out a gun and we’ve got a Mexican standoff! But anyway, how was your summer break?”
  • “Oh, no. He’s hot when he’s sad.”
  • “How many bodies you think would fit in here? I’m gonna say ‘a lot.’ Looks like a lot.”
  • “[Name], if I do die, there’s something I need you to do for me… bury me with my swimsuits.”
  • “Some stuff happened. I don’t want to talk about it. Shut up!”
  • “Yeah, sure, don’t listen to craaazy old [name], because that one time he stole a Zamboni and joyrode it around town and tried to take it through a McDonald’s drive through, and then they wouldn’t serve him, so he drove it into the front of the McDonald’s, and they called the cops and then there was a Mexican standoff!
  • “We went white-water rafting, and he pushed me right out! I hit so many rocks…”
  • “I bought stilts.”
  • “Maybe next time, don’t get disqualified by throwing GRENADES AT THE OTHER SWIMMERS.”
  • “Don’t patronize me! I’m not [name]!”
  • “Why do we even care about losing? We’ve never cared about that kind of stuff.”
  • “You’re all probably getting nervous, and that’s normal. You really don’t stand a chance here, so I really can’t blame you.”
Ed Nygma x reader - imagines.


You let out a long exasperated breath. The woman in front of you - red faced from shouting so much - just wouldn’t listen to you, to the rules.

She was there to see Officer Moore, her new boyfriend. Although you had known Moore for nearly an entire year and he didn’t have girlfriends. He had casual sex-buddies and that was that. But the woman wouldn’t get it in her head.

“I just want to see my fuckin’ boyfriend, you loon!” She snapped. All attention was in you now, every gaze of bored or passing cops on the altercation going on at the receptionist desk for the GCPD.

It was hard to act so casual with their eyes on you. It made your skin itch; your heart pounding against your chest and eyes burning as you tried not to cry with embarrassment. But you kept a hard expression nonetheless.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Franks.” You smiled sweetly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Officer Moore is working right now. You cannot just pop in whenever you feel like it.”

The woman growled in anger and stomped out of the precinct, a curse word falling from her lips. You sunk back in your chair, relieved in the lack of the woman’s presence. She had barked in at you for nearly twenty minutes, so the silence was welcome despite the pounding that soon took its place.

You turned to the man that sat next to you - a gangly man by the name of Owen. “I’m going to get some Advil and coffee. Want anything?”

Owen shook his head and you went in your way. You could still feel people watching you, but you tried to ignore the burn in your skin and make it to the coffee machine in the staff room. Coffee was good. Coffee was a life force.

After taking the painkillers and savouring the strongest coffee you could find you allowed yourself to sink back into the worn leather sofa they kept in the staff room. It was old and lumpy, but relaxing with the silence it offered.

Most of the people that worked at Gotham City Police Department wouldn’t be going on their lunch break for an hour, but working at the reception often meant you could leave to get coffee as long as someone was at the desk. Not many people even used the reception anyway, so whether you took five minutes or an hour didn’t usually matter.

Another person that would often abandon their work to get copious amounts of caffeine was Edward Nygma.

He was an odd man and you had always regarded him as a bit of an outsider. While you were not one to have a large group of people around you, you did have a few friends at work. Namely Kristen Kringle, who had always found Ed to be off-putting. Though she often said worse about the man in forensics.

Upon seeing you - sitting alone and worn down - while making his coffee Ed chuckled to himself, quiet and breathy. But you heard him nonetheless.

“Can I help you, Ed?” You asked, too tired to put up with ridicule for how you handled the situation with Officer Moore’s sex-buddy.

Ed turned to you and pushed up his glasses. “I apologise if you thought I was being rude, Ms (Y/L/N). I was merely thinking about how… Odd it is that you actually stop people from entering without cause.”

You shrugged. “I would have let her see Moore, but Essen gave me a warning to stop doing it.”

"Understandable.” Ed nodded. You thought that was that. Ed went back to stirring his coffee and you went back to staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers to the universe. But a moment later you felt the sofa move beneath you as Ed Nygma sat on the end of the seat.

When you were this close to him you could make out the little features you usually couldn’t from being so far. Small blemishes, scars, a freckle every here and there. Green and hazel flecks in his eyes, melding with blue perfectly. A scratch on his glasses, an eyelash on his cheek.

It was odd.

"You are travelling down a one way road the wrong way,” Nygma’s voice broke through your thoughts. You furrowed your brows and listened. “There is a police car driving down the road, but it doesn’t stop you. Why?”

"Kristen wasn’t lying when she said you love riddles, Ed.” You laughed. Ed shrugged. “I don’t know.”

"You were walking.” Ed smiled as your eyes widened, realising the simplicity of his riddle. You chuckle and took a tentative sip of your almost lukewarm coffee.

The silence between Ed and you was comfortable, neither of you speaking until Ed rose to his feet, eyes locked on the window on the door.

"Please, excuse me, Ms (Y/L/N).” He bowed his head quickly and left. It was clear to see why. Outside the door, surrounded by three or four officers, was Kristen Kringle.

Originally posted by savagepatchkidzzz

You're Raped

“I think I should dump you out now before I get caught, now shouldn’t I?” the man’s raspy voice questioned, watching her every move without taking a blink. Shivers crawled down y/n’s spine as she backed her more into the corner of the wall, a way of hiding from him. His body kneeled right in front of hers, and the closeness of his body to hers was the most unsafe feeling she could ever feel.
“Oh how I’m going to miss fucking this pretty lil’ body of yours” he sighed, grazing his finger tips over her bare legs.
She fliched away from him, sobbing as she tried to back away more, but the cold wall prevented her, making her have no escape. The man chuckled as his body came closer, hovering over her as y/n’s body began to shake vigorously.
“One last taste, and I’ll dump you out. How does that sound?” he questioned, lowering his face so he can smell her, smell the vulnerability and fear that had become such a drug to him.
She whimpered, shaking her head so she didn’t have to feel him there—feel him crawling on her skin and his rough skin against hers. His fingers caught her chin so that he could harshly turn her face toward his, taking a look into her gray, dull eyes.
“You fucking look at me, you dirty little whore!” he barked at her, making her eyes widen, but her body obey.
He smiled, his hand running along her face as he admired how well he’s taught her these passed few days.
“Good girl” he smiled before planting a wet, sloppy, hungry kiss on her lips, trying to pry her mouth open with the hold of her chin, but she put her lips together and squeezed them shut.
“Come on, give it to me. Give it to me or you’ll stay here” he threatned.
She couldn’t imagine staying in here longer, not even for a minute. She was so trapped in complete darkness, preventing her from finding any exit to escape. Her clothes were in threads, and he would repeatedly hurt her if she made any kind of noise. The thought made her stomach churn, sending her to release a gag. The man took the opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth, something that made her nearly puke onto him, but she held it in. It was too risky to make him mad. Way too risky.
The man lasted one last second before he ripped away from her. She gasped for air, throwing up as she exhaled the disgusting taste of his siliva.
Moments later, she felt herself being dragged by her hair outside of the unknown building. She put her hands on his, trying with all the strength she had left to make him let go, but fighting to her was something so energy taking now. She couldn’t do it even if she tried. Exhaustion taking over so much of her body, that everything made her so unbelieveably numb.
“Look outside the fucking window and I’ll kill you before you can blink” he seethed at her, throwing her in the passanger seat aimlessly. She lay how she landed, not finding any motivation to move. She coughed, feeling a reactant to the taste of this disgusting man that took away something so special to her. Something so special to her boyfriend, she felt like it was all her fault. If she had just listened to Harry to not walk home, none of this would of happened.
Harry. His name was enough to make her crave him. She missed him more she ever thought her heart could miss somebody. She just wanted to hear him—to know he was still existing.
Within twenty minutes, the car came ro a hault. The man took her face in his hand, squeezing her face as he pulled her head up harshly.
“You didn’t obey me the first night. All your fucking screaming and kicking, and after a thosand fucking times you still disobeyed me. You’re a little whore, letting me touch you like that. A little fucking whore who deserves to be lost!” he screamed at her.
He lifted her body up, opening the car door and flung her out on the grass, making her roll before stopping perfectly on her stomach. He turned around and drove back to the direction they have come from, leaving her, here, in the middle of no where. It was just a lane of road, and the rest was all grass.
She felt no hope. No hope that anybody could ever find her here, no hope that she could ever go back to Harry. Her Harry, the Harry that she loved and had lived with for so long. She did the only thing she knew was left to do, pray.
She let out a loud sob, feeling so disgusting and dirty and so broken, she didn’t even feel like the person she knew she was.
“Please God, oh please God, please. Give me my Harry. I need my Harry. I will do anything, God. I’m s—so sorry for all I had done t—to deserve this. B—but please, God, please, give me my Harry. Please have him find me”.
She took a second to listen, listen for anything. A car, a horn, a voice, Harry, anything.
“Come on!” she screamed, punching the grass. “Come on please please please!”.
She weeped, feeling so lost without Harry. The way he held her when she felt lost, or the way he kissed her when she knew things were going bad. All she needed was him, to be there, holding her. She needed him more than she needed anything right now. He was the only reason she held on. Without him, she would have let herself die the many times she was so close to death.
The whole world seemed to stop when she saw a cop car comming towards her. For a moment, she just looked at it, blinking tightly, praying that this wasn’t her imagination. There was no way that there was somebody comming here, in a place like this.
“H-help!” she screamed, crawling toward the road.
Whether she was imagining it or not, she couldn’t stop. Her legs seemed so broken, just being dragged behind her, but nothing stopped her from crawling towards the road once more.
“Please help me!”.
The cop car came to a stop, and moments later, a tall man in his mid fourty’s with a police uniform came running to her.
“Please help me get back to my Harry. Please. I haven’t seen him in days and I’ve been raped and I need my Harry please help me oh please, oh please help me”
“Ma’am. Ma’am. Please calm down. We know exactly who you are I just need you to relax” the cop earged, unclipping the walkie talkie from his shirt pocket swiftly.
“This is Officer Ryan, I found her” he spoke in it fast.
“How do you know me? Is Harry here? Where’s my Harry? Did Harry look for me?”.
“Ma’am. Harry called everyone to help find you, okay? But please for right now I need you to answer questions for me while I drive you to the police station, okay?”.
She nodded her head, and knowing that walking was hard with her injuries, she started to crawl toward the car.
“Come on, I’ve got you” the officer said, reaching for her.
She flinched, backing away from him. She wanted to trust him, she did, but she started reacting so strange to him now. She felt like he was just like the man. She felt like anybody that wasn’t Harry was going to harm her the way he did.
“Ma’am, I won’t hurt you. You have to trust me so that I can get you to Harry. Harry’s been calling all these cops and all these people to look for you. He’s been all around London running on no sleep looking for you. Now let me bring you back so you can see him. Would you like that? To see Harry?” he asked quietly.
Harry truly was running on no sleep, panicked as to why someone would take Y/n away from him like that. He couldn’t bring himself to live life without her, and he’s been going absolutely crazy without her.
She stuck out her hand, waiting for him to take it. He grabbed onto it, lifting her up so that he could carry her to the car without hurting her. He gentley placed her in the passanger seat, putting on her seatbelt. As he bent over, he realized how bad condition her body was in. Swells, cuts, bruises, and burns ran endlessly through her skin.
He felt so digusted, so disgusted that a human being could ever do this to someone, especially to such a young girl. She was 18, but just looked so weak and vulnerable, and that’s when he knew he couldn’t leave without looking for the man who caused this.
“You know what, Y/n, I’m going to have Harry pick you up. Does that sound alright?” he sniffled, feeling tears well up in his eyes.
He took a moment to be in her position, how someone forces another to do these terrible things so that they can fufill their pleasure. It was so sickening to him that a man could ever look at a girl, so scared and sad, and beat her so that he could get something he wanted.
“Please, oh please, please do”.
The eargency and the desperation in her voice was so tough for him to hear. This was miles and miles away from London, but he couldn’t let her go. He had to get this man. He had to.
He nodded, half-heartedly walking away from the car. He needed his privacy as tears slowly flooded his eyes, blocking his veiw to dial Harry’s number.
The ringing noise felt like years, he just wanted to tell Harry that y/n was alive. He was the one who wanted to deliver the news. The thought of finding her made his heart race. It took him days, nearly 90 hours to figure out where she was, and he knew now that the lack of sleep was finally worth it.
“What happened? Is everything okay?” Harry immediatly asked once he picked up the phone.
The officer sniffled, but smiled as he was about to say the words Harry has been hoping for for days.
“I found her, Harry”.
The line fell silent for a moment until a strong cry escaped Harry’s lips.
“Oh God. Oh God. Where is she? Is she okay? What happened to her?”.
“We’re 76 miles East of London, Harry. I know it’s a long drive but half of it is one stra—”
“I’m on my way” Harry said before hanging up.
The officer sighed, closing his eyes as he took in one big breath.
“It’s over now. She’s fine. It’s over now” he whispered to himself, trying to calm himself down.
The officer shook his body, snapping himself back to reality as he slowly made his way back to the cop car. He had one more stop to take, and he knew exactly what to do.
“Harry’s on his way” The officer said quietly, not able to look at y/n condition any longer.
He slowly sunk into the front seat, closing the door shut as he started to write down information. He looked over at y/n every once in a while, whom was staring blankly out the window. He knew she was tramatized, but he didn’t know what to do about it. He couldn’t ask her questions for his information, not now, not when she’s like this.
So he just sat there, joining her. He knew she was asking why a world that looked so beautiful had to be so cruel, and the question wrapped around his head. He couldn’t answer it, and he wished so desperatly that he could answer it for her. But he couldn’t, and it made him more upset. He quickly grapped his keys and gun, and made his way out of the car.
“Stay here until Harry comes,” he said to y/n, “I’m going to find that son of a bitch”.
Y/n nodded, and with all the quietness and the sound of the wind blowing itself onto the window, she slowly started to disapear.

Harry finally made it to the cop car, and he’s never ran so fast in his entire life. He was scared, so scared to see the damage that had been done, but he wanted to feel her skin on his. He needed it before he lost himself.
At the cop car, he couldn’t believe what he had seen. He looked at her, so beaten and small, and he could feel his heart break. He could feel it being squeezed tighter and tighter by the moment, seeing his princess look like that.
“Princess,” he shook her, crying, desperate to feel her, “wake up. Baby, I’m here now”.
“Harry?” she whispered, opening her eyes with so much hope.
“Yes, baby. I’m here. I’ve got you now”.
All her emotions finally gave out on her as she started to cry uncontrolably. She was so happy he was there with her now, to hold her and to love her. It was all she’d been waiting for, and it all seemed like a lifetime without him.
“Harry, I—I’m so happy that you’re here. I n—needed you so much and I held on for you, Harry. I held on for you. I knew I would see you again so I held on” she said, almost like a child.
He looked at her, almost like the first time he met her. After days without her, he felt like he was without himself. Knowing that somebody had the nerve to take you away was almost enough to kill him. Harry wanted to actually see the man suffer in front of him. But looking at her now, with the joy on her face because he was there made him fall in love with her all over again. He has never seen her so happy, and he, himself, has never felt so happy to see her.
This was definitely not how he wanted to see her. A black eye, swollen lips, cuts and burns upon her skin, because he knew what had happened. She didn’t have to say it, he knew, and it made him want to throw up.
But she was here with him now, with so much joy in her, that he almost couldn’t think of anything bad upon anybody. The exctacy she brought him was something so overpowering, and he missed her. He missed her more than he could miss anything else.
He brought his hand down to her cheek, feeling her, confirming that he wasn’t imagining her again. She was alive, and she was in front of him, and the thought made him completely break down in front of her.
“Oh God, y/n, I’ve missed you so much. I couldn’t—I couldn’t—”.
The cries were so strong that he couldn’t continue. He completely collapsed into her, almost like he still couldn’t believe she was here.
But the feel of her, feeling her barely strong enough to pit her arms around him made him angry. She was so hurt, she could barely even move.
“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him” he sobbed, truly meaning what he said.
He ripped out of her loose grip, storming into the front of the cop car. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he didn’t want to. He knew what it was going to lead to, and the way he knew it was going to end was what he wanted.
“Harry, baby, what are you doing” y/n asked, wanting him to return to her again; to hold her.
Harry couldn’t turn around, not now. He opened up to police car, jumping in, making a mess looking for anything. Anything to satisfy him.
“There’s got to be a fucking gun in here” Harry cursed, taking out everything in the compartments and throwing them in the back.
“Yes” he whispered, getting his hands on a handgun.
He quickly exited the car, holding the gun up into the air, as his mind was completely lost. His body was working too fast for him to know what he was doing, but he didn’t care, and he couldn’t stop.
“Who the fuck do you think you are you asshole?” Harry screamed at the top of his lungs into the night sky.
He didn’t know what was going on, his entire adrenaline was taking over, and all he saw was one big blur.
“You’re a fucking prick and I will fucking find you and I’ll kill you! How do you like that? A bullet to your fucking fucked up brain?”.
Harry was in a range he’s never been in before. He wasn’t even himself anymore. He was turning into a monster before he could stop himself. He was just so angry. Angry that someone dared to touch her like that. Angry that he wasn’t there. Angry that people could be so fucked up, and he wanted to be angry at y/n. She didn’t listen to him, and if she did none of this would had happened. But he couldn’t be mad at her, because it was her voice was what brough him back, it was the gentle tone she carried with her everytime she talked. It made him realize what he should be focusing on. It made him come back to the way he was before.
“Harry, come back to me”.
Harry looked at her, almost right through her, not fully back in reality. He dropped the gun, stumbling to her. Whatever he just did wiped him out, and all he could think about was holding her until slumber hits.
Once he reached her, he didn’t hesitate to hold her so close to his body.
“We have to wait for Ryan” she mumbled in his chest, running her fingers gentley along his back.
“Lets go to sleep, baby” Harry whispered to her, kissing the top of her head, “You look like you haven’t slept in days”.
She nodded, resting her chin upon his chest as she slowly closed her eyes.
“C’mon” he mumbled as he picked her up so he can bring her into the back seat his car.
Harry slid her body ontop of his, holding her as if this was the first night he had fallen in love with her. He felt a drop fall upon his shirt, and he subsonciously held her tighter.
“This will all be better in the morning, baby, I promise. He’ll be gone and we’ll be continuing on the way we were before, okay? I promise” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.
“Can you sing me to sleep?” she asked, another tear slipping out of her eye as she stared blankly at his chest.
“A drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather.
I was praying that you and me might end up together”

Fallen Archangel - Imagine request

Request:  Hey so today has been really shitty and I was wondering is you can make a fluffy Michael one-shot for me?

Characters: Michael x reader, Castiel (mentioned)

Word count:1,478

Warnings: Extra fluffy.

A/N: Sorry it took so long, today was an extra-busy day, but I hope its what you expected. Also, I didn’t know which MIchael’s vessel you wanted, to I left that quite unclear. Enjoy!

Originally posted by graciegra

Another rough day of being underestimated, another rough day of feeling like crap, another day of wishing for a better life… Would it ever change?

She left her bag fall to the floor as soon as she stepped in your small apartment, shutting the door loudly. A huff left her lips as you walked over to the kitchen, taking the bottle of wine out of the cabinet along with a cup. Then, she filled it past the usual limit and chugged on it as it were a shot of tequila.

“I need a miracle.” She muttered to yourself. Her eyes found the little altar she had managed to set at one of the corners of the living room. A golden figure rose from above the candles; it was an archangel, her favourite, Michael. “I wish you could come and save me.”

It wasn’t the first time her prayers got ignored, and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last. However, the simple thought of “having” someone to talk to when times get harsh, was more than enough for her to keep on going.

Little did she know that her prayers were listened. Michael would ignore every other’s just to hear hers, punishing himself for not being able to help. Not like he couldn’t, or didn’t want to, but because he knew that if he did, he’d eventually show himself to her and maybe even would end up breaking some of the most important rules in Heaven: Do NOT fall for humans.

He had fought with his brother Castiel many years ago for that same reason, and now, after everything he had been through, he understood his brother. But his pride was bigger, he wasn’t just an angel, he was a weapon and he couldn’t give in to some human’s charm.

“I just need someone to hold me… Please.” The girl begged, kneeling down in front of the golden statue. She needed him, she had needed him for the longest time. Aren’t angels supposed to care for humanity? Would he really break the rule if he just held her?

A knock on the door made her jump from the floor, drying the few tears that had escaped her eyes. She fixed her hair and opened the wooden door, revealing one of the most handsome men she had ever seen.

“Hi, may I help you?” She smiled, getting lost at the man’s eyes. There was something about him, something that made her immediately trust him.

“May I help you?” The man replied. He was nervous – hell! If he could sweat, he would be a pool.

“You’re the one that knocked on my door.” The girl giggled, tilting her head.

“But you’re the one that called me.” The man replied, showing off the most similar thing to a smile he could.

“I’m afraid I didn’t.” The girl furrowed.

“(Y/N), I’ve listened to your prayers… You called me.”  He tried to touch her shoulder, but the girl stepped back.

“Are you some kind of stalker? I’m calling the cops.” She threatened. The man simply sighed, shaking his head.

“My name is Michael, and I’m and Archangel.” He stated, “You are (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you keep an altar at the left corner of your living room, you hate your job and every night you get home, drink a whole glass of wine, pray to me and then drink more until you fall asleep. Last night, you fell asleep on the floor, which produced a severe pain at the low of your back, as well as the back of your right shoulder.”

“That’s it, I’m calling the cops.” The girl tried to shut the door, but before she could do anything, Michael got inside the apartment. “Get out!” She commanded.

“Let me show you.” He begged, and before she could do anything else, the silhouettes of a pair of wings became visible at the wall behind the man. His eyes shined blue and a feeling of peace invaded the room. “I won’t harm you; I’m here to answer to your prayers.”

The girl trembled. A part of her (her brain) begged her to call the police, but the rest of her body trusted the man. He had heard her, after many nights of crying in front of the altar, he had heard her and he had come to help her.

“Tell me what do you need, and I’ll do it.” He spoke, “Anything you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I’ve prayed to you every single day for the past five years, why answer now?” She asked, walking closer to him. She was careful on her steps.

“I’ve wanted to come and help you, but there are rules that must be followed… In fact, I might be breaking several of them right now.”  The blue eyed man confessed.

“Why me? You’re breaking rules because of this, why don’t you break them with someone else?” The archangel sighed, looking down at the floor for a response.

“I’m afraid that’s the biggest broken rule of them all.” He mumbled, “Falling for a human is… It’s not right.”

“You fell for me?” The girl asked dumbfounded, and the archangel nodded, “How? There are far better humans out there.”

“I’ve heard your prayer and acknowledged your pain. I’ve met your soul long before I met you, and I’ve taken care of you almost every day.” The angel explained, “I know everything about you, and even if it’s hard to believe, I think you’re the most amazing human Father ever created.”

“I’m an alcoholic, and I’ve done many things I’m pretty sure are sins…” The angel walked closer to her, cupping her cheek with his hand.

“Things in Heaven aren’t as portrayed by Church… At least not everything.” He spoke softly, “Besides, I happen to know angels who have fallen for even worse humans… You are kind and caring, you’re always willing to help the other and you are so humble… How could I not fall for you?”

The girl replied with a smile. Her cheeks blushed uncontrollably but she didn’t even shy away; after all, he knew everything about her; there was no use in hiding her true feelings.

“I must admit its weird hearing that from an… an…”

“An Archangel?” He smiled, “It’s even weirder for me.”

The girl nodded. All kinds of questions invaded her mind, and she wasn’t sure which one to ask first. “Is this how you really look?” She asked, holding his face with a trembling hand.

“This is just a vessel…” He explained, “If I showed my true form, your eyes would burn.”

“Awesome.” She replied, although her whole body said otherwise.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” He calmed her down, “I would never ever dare to harm you.”

The angel grabbed her hands, intertwining his fingers with hers and guiding her to the small couch at the living room. They both sat down, their eyes connected.

“Tell me what do you want, and I’ll be sure to give it to you.” The angel repeated, “I can show you all kinds of wonders, grant you all kinds of wishes… For you, I would do anything.”

“That’s lovely but…” She breathed in, “I just want someone to hold me when I’m falling apart.”

“Falling apart? Do you… How do you reconstruct yourself?” The angel was extremely confused about her statement. “And about holding you, how? Should I put your pieces at an specific place or just hold them with my hands?”

“It’s not literal, Michael.” She giggled, “It mean when one feels like… Like nothing is right, and that nothing is going according to plan.”

“I know that feel.” Michael huffed, remembering all kinds of trouble his younger brothers gave him. But then again, angel couldn’t feel literally.

“… And by holding me, I just mean someone to be by my side when things go wrong; someone to tell me that everything will be all right.” She continued to explain. Michael sat in silence, absorbing her words and translating them into concepts that he could easily understand.

“I can be that someone, if you let me.” He spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“If anyone had told me that the Archangel Michael would ever suggest to ‘hold me’, I would’ve thought that person was insane.” She joked.

“Is that a yes?” Michael furrowed.


Michael leaned back on the couch, allowing the girl to rest her head over his chest. She hesitated a bit, but the peace she felt by being on his arms soon made effect, allowing her to slowly drift to sleep.

“Anything you ask for… Whatever it is… I will do anything for you.” Michael spoke as his hands stroked his hair. Was that what Castiel felt? If so, it would explain a lot about his sudden rebellion. “I will always take care of you.”


“I promise.”


they/them/theirs pronouns. do not delete caption

art by rommy torrico, rommytorrico.com

Anita Tijoux: Caballito Blanco, vuelve pa’ tu pueblo, no te tenemos miedo, tenemos vida y fuego, fuego en nuestras manos, fuego en nuestros ojos, tenemos tanta vida y hasta fuerza color rojo. La niña María no quiere tu castigo, se va a liberar con el suelo Palestino- #AnaTijoux. I keep seeing Anita popping up left and right on all my feeds so I figured it was time for this goddess to make her appearance. I’m here to celebrate all the passionate babes, lxs cabronxs rebeldes con espíritus indomables. And this muxer is such a babe, cabrona to the max. Everything about her makes my heart swell and feeds the inner fire in me to gritar rebeldía. Linda Chilenita, sigue con tu fuerza y tu magia y yo seguiré admirándote, escuchándote y amándote. You’re my forever crush. Viva Chile, mierda. Mil veces venceremos. Fuera Yanqui de América Latina! Yo te quiero libre Palestina ✊🏽

Chavela Vargas: Ama sin medida, sin límite, sin complejo, sin permiso, sin coraje, sin consejo, sin duda, sin precio, sin cura, sin nada. No tengas miedo de amar. Verterás lágrimas con amor o sin él. #ChavelaVargas. Also, relevant and playing up to the lusty side of me: “tómate ésta botella conmigo y en el último trago… me besas.” Wise words, Chavelita, wise words. Let’s hear it for the amazing queers of color who know what’s up and are down to destroy the system! In case you were needing some love, let me take this time to appreciate your existence and to let you all know that I’m loving and crushing on all of you so very hard. Keep existing and resisting, you irresistibly sexy folx. En tiempos como éstos que el amor es tán escaso, listen to Chavela and think about how nice it is to know that there are other hopeless romantics out there who are willing to love deeply and fully. Sometimes I wonder, Chavela, if you serenade Frida now that you’re both together up in the twinkling cosmos- that’s amor sin fronteras. That’s the kind of love I’m down for. Galactic serenatas that start off with “te amo” o “te quiero” … or tequila. Because sometimes we can crave forever but sometimes for now works just fine for all parties involved. There’s a lot of love and loving to go around (be sure to use a lot of that love on yourself, too), and like Chavela said, you’ll still shed tears with love or without it. So dale and love on.

Hector Morejon: Mommy, Mommy, please come, please come.- #HectorMorejon. Last words of Hector. The cops didn’t even let his mom ride in the ambulance with him. No justice, no fucking peace. Unarmed, 19 years old, murdered by the pigs. Rest in power, hermanito ✊🏽

Terrence Kellom: Rest in power, #TerrenceKellom #FreddieGray, #FelixDavid. Your lives mattered. We’re with you Detroit, Baltimore, New York. No justice, no peace. Stay safe. #justice4terrencekellom #justice4freddiegray #justice4felixdavid #ftp #endpolicebrutality #blacklivesmatter

Maya Angelou: I’ve got a magic charm that I keep up my sleeve. I can walk the ocean floor and never have to breathe. Life doesn’t frighten me at all. Not at all. Not at all.- #MayaAngelou. So many things have frightened me over the course of my life. Some fears I’ve gotten over, others have lessened in intensity, a good few still latch on to me and I still can’t shake them. I don’t believe myself to be an inherently strong or courageous person- I’m as soft and scared as they come, but I’m starting to believe that I do have some magic charm that keeps me safe and grounded when things go bump in the night, when I feel my will and power weakening, when I feel like I don’t want to breathe anymore because it doesn’t seem worth it. I have no idea what else the universe has in store for me, but I’ve been preparing my little self for the tempest that surely awaits me. My nails might dig into the flesh of my fists, my jaw might clench, my legs may shake but my lungs are mighty and I believe in my magic. I’m fed up with being so frightened so release the kraken, life. Wash the fear away.

Ijeoma Umebinyuo: mother, i have pasts inside me i did not bury properly. some nights, your daughter tears herself apart yet heals in the morning.- #IjeomaUmebinyuo. This womxn is a powerhouse! 🌼👊✊🏽🙌❤So much appreciation for her and her beautiful words. Before I get into my Pooh feelings about this quote, let me plug in that Ijeoma is coming out with her new book really soon! Follow this beautiful being on tumblr (theijeoma.tumblr.com) and on IG @theijeoma for more of her work and to find out when the book drops. And now for the heaviness- this quote hits home in some really intense ways. If only my mother knew how I tear away at myself every day. I owe a lot of who I am to her- good and bad- but we’ve done a lot of damage to each other. I still wonder if I’m good enough for her, if she’s proud of me. I don’t even remember the last time she told me how proud of me she was (when it wasn’t related to academics). There’s an ocean of silence, guilt, contempt and disillusionment between us and as much as I try to swim toward her, she just stays on the shore, looking away. I always think that if she could look past my fabulous queerness, then maybe she could see how decent of a person I’ve grown up to be (and that these are not mutually exclusive). Damn it, ma… It’s been 8 years. Why can’t you see how lucky you are?

Catherine Han Montoya: Rest in radiant and powerful splendor, beautiful person. There is not one dry eye tonight. I don’t even know how many lives you’ve touched- so many people are thinking of you right now, of all the great moments they were able to share with you, of how you single-handedly changed their lives with a smile warmer than the sun. How fortunate and honored we have been to have known you even for a moment. You are so rare- you’re something else completely. I wish I could have told you how meeting you and getting to know you completely rocked my world and how much I look up to you, amiga. My thoughts and love are with your wonderful partner, Meredith, and your family. We miss you, you badass. This movement won’t be the same. Look after us, hermana. There’s no way we could ever forget you. Rest ❤✊ Catherine Han Montoya

James Baldwin: It took many years of vomiting up all the filth I’d been taught about myself, & half believed, before I was able to walk on the earth as though I had a right to be here.- #JamesBaldwin. This right here. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. To all the PoCs, non-whites, indigenous, queers, sick and disabled, trans, undocumented, migrant, formerly incarcerated, detainees and all folx that the system is intentionally fucking over- We are enough. We are power. Our lives are valuable. We will thrive. We will. Exist. Resist. Liberate.

Ramona Africa: We know that at this time, more than any other time, revolution is necessary. The time for excuses is over. Every man, woman, and child has to be involved in this revolution whether you want to be or not. When you truly are involved in revolution, it ain’t a category. It deals with every aspect of your life. It’s not a 9-5, it’s not something you deal with for a couple of hours a day and then that’s it. It’s not something you deal with 5 days a week and then take a break on the weekend. These cops ain’t taking no break. These government officials that’s waging war on us ain’t taking no break. It goes past a job; it is work. and anybody that don’t want to be involved in that work ain’t got no right to complain when they’re victimized by the thing they running from and trying to duck. The point is, you’re going to be victimized by this system, by this government, whether you stand up and fight or not.- #RamonaAfrica. This is what revolution looks like. My #wcw is dedicated to this powerful womxn. After the FBI dropped a C4 bomb on the MOVE organization’s home and headquarters in Philly on May 13, 1983, Ramona managed to make it out of the building (suffering permanent scarring from the burns) with a young girl in her arms (Birdie Africa). They were the only survivors of the massacre- the other 11 members (including 5 children) were murdered. She was subsequently charged with conspiracy, riot and several other ridiculous/unfounded counts of assault and sent to prison for 7 years. Today she continues working to bring down the system and to liberate all political prisoners, including fellow MOvE member #mumiaabujamal . Never forget 9/11? How about NEVER FUCKING FORGET THAT THIS GOVERNMENT DROPS C4 BOMBS ON ITS OWN PEOPLE. Never forget… Don’t even get me started. Rest in power Conrad, Delisha, Frank, Netta, Phil, Raymond, Rhonda, Theresa, Tomaso, Tree, and Vincent Africa

Kathleen Cleaver: What I think needs to be examined and explained more fully are the powerful contributions women have made to our resistance against slavery, to our resistance against segregation, to our resistance against racism.- #KathleenNealCleaver. We’re knee-deep into taurus season and I have so much love and appreciation for all the taurus muxeres in my life. Y'all are so strong, focused, creative, loving and protective (as a pisces, I can appreciate all of that- plus, I love me some earth signs). So happy birthday to all the tauruses in my life and happy almost birthday to this queen, Kathleen Neal Cleaver. Power to the people.

Jings and Other Things: How Combat Informs Character, Cultural Progress, and Vice Versa

Over the series run of The Legend of Korra there have been quite a few posts and thoughts regarding the significant changes that bending had undergone in the seventy years that span the gap between it and The Last Airbender.  Here, reddit, forums, you name it, somebody has pointed it out.  Many of you remember ATLA as having titanic fights with massive feats of bending.  And why shouldn’t you? Avatar Kyoshi made her own fucking island centuries before Aang’s time even began.

Originally posted by avatarfightingstyles

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The Types as Things I've Done

ENTP: I was quarantined and confined to my quarters on a cruise ship, barred from entering Canada and delivering the plague of whatever the hell awful stomach illness I developed to such a docile people.

INTP: I have literally always been so bad about reading true romantic intention, not sexual or just flattery, but definitely real romance. Maybe I don’t trust it? Idk. So I wound up going to the movies with a guy who I thought was just hanging out with me. We ran into friends there. Before the credits started, the girl’s cornered me in the bathroom–one of whom I had a serious crush on at the time–and demanded to know how my date was. I didn’t know it was a date until they pointed out he had paid. It also took me months to realize why another one of the girl’s was so hostile towards him was because she had a thing for me. I thought it was friendly aggression???

ESFJ: For my parents’ fifteenth wedding anniversary, I demanded my brother get out of bed to help me cook them breakfast to bring them before they got up for the day. Unfortunately, my twelve year old cooking skills were subpar and they didn’t eat it even though in my mind they were supposed to. I was crushed lol.

ISFJ: When I was two I had to have my tonsils removed. In pre-op, I hopped off a chair, grabbed the surgeon’s hand and swung it on the way to the operating room. I smiled up at him and told him in my super sore throated voice he was a great doctor and that I would be happy to split my ice cream with him.
(Those bastards gave me popsicles)

ENFP: I somehow convinced my entire senior class to pull the most ridiculous faces for our school ID photos. Someone chugged a container of applesauce, another person pulled a Zoolander face, another wore a spin dial hat and got as uncomfortable looking as possible, someone asked for a close up, another was fed grapes by a freshman, etc. The office was in hysterics when they were shipped in. People were happy. It was great.

INFP: I was super moody and withdrawn and sad my freshman year of college. I literally only left my dorm to eat, go to class, and drink. I had over-idealized school and didn’t fall in with the people I wanted to lol it was stupid. But I became very involved with my writing and drawing so that’s something.

ESTJ: I’m a huge seafood lover. Like gosh, I feel like an embarrassment to my mentor, Ron Swanson, because fish is a vegetable but this information is necessary. I’ve never had an allergic reaction to shellfish before, but one time in Maryland my family decided to have dinner at a crab bar on the Chesapeake. I ordered soft shell blue crab, because I had never tasted soft shell crab before and figured why not. Anyways, not too far into my meal, my cheeks go kind of numb, my throat feels like it’s kind of closing up, and I’m itchy af. I clear my throat and persevere through chewing, but my mother looks at me and asks me if I’m okay or if I want to order something else because by this point it’s pretty obvious I’m having a minor allergic reaction. I swallow, look her dead in the eye, and say even though I’ve discovered I don’t really have a liking for this type of crab, “We spent money on this. I’m going to eat it and I’m going to like it … even if it kills me.”

ISTJ: In my last year of elementary school, my teacher had a creatively lazy way of enforcing order and making the students work in a self-sustained business/government fashion. There was an interdependent hierarchy of monetary, justice, legislative, and operations positions we applied to at the beginning of each quarter, so we could have an opportunity to rotate. For a semester my job was to act as sort of police officer. We didn’t call them that in specific terms, I can’t remember the official title. But there were three of us in this very large class, and my job was to essentially hand out “tickets” for violations on rules our class had voted upon in our little senate. And these tickets were basically meant to reasonably bring about justice, ie: you’re disruptive you have to sit up at the empty desk near the teacher for x amount of time, you throw things at or to people or act like a jerk you help clean after class or grade papers or you lose recess time outside or something. We had a grievance committee who could repeal these tickets at any given time or during a Senate vote. Some of my classmates tried to buy me off after I issued them a warning, but I was unflappable and refused to be a dirty cop. I only had one person who couldn’t corrupt me try to get me fired, his vote was crushed by my classmates, and my teacher later told me I had an impeccable sense of justice.

ESFP: I instigated an intense round of the yellow light game where everyone slaps the ceiling of the car when the driver goes through a yellow light and the loser has to lose an article of clothing. I basically won every light because I refused to lose and just got to sit back and enjoy the show.

ISFP: I straight up balled angry, hot tears at The Museum of Tolerance. The evils of man made me feel physically sick as I walked through the model gas chambers. I remember running my hand over the wall and questioning who had stood somewhere similar, and so much more awful. And even though I felt all dark and twisty inside, I had never felt so proud as I was of the people who were heroic and sacrificed and fought the good fight trying to help the people trying to escape the Holocaust.

ENTJ: In high school I was voted most likely to take over the world. I had previously explained to my entire AP Government class some ‘precisely vague’ steps that a figure like a world ruler would need to take to assure such a position. Apparently, combined with a charming smile and promises of prosperity, it was an impressionable moment.

INTJ: My friend discovered a game where you can take on the role of a contagion with the goal of infecting as many people as possible. We named the plague Stupidity. At the end of the game we were told, “Stupidity Has Eradicated Humanity.” We thought it was hilarious.

ESTP: About a year ago, I spilt a gallon of boiling hot butter onto my hands as I was pulling it out of the microwave. (Yay workplace safety! We never had safety training! What a bunch of incompetent asshats!) It pooled around behind me, I went down, but basically my brain had shut off all higher processing aside from safety. So I calmly yanked myself to my feet, tore off my hat and soaked apron, and ran my hands under cool water. At this rate, I can already feel the blisters, I know my hands are least covered in second degree burn, and I can feel the butter soaking into my socks and probably burning my shins. I look to my coworker who took about an extra minute to recover from shock (which is actually a long fucking time when you’ve been scalded alive) and calmly say, “Please call my mother, I need to go the hospital. But first, help me walk into the back, I need to take my pants off.” And proceeded to fucking wink. So here I am, smirking through the worst pain of my life, and still making it sound like I’m flirting with her. Go me.

ISTP: My cousin took me bar hopping on my 21st birthday, and we wound up walking right behind a fight between these five huge ass men that had stumbled out into the street. My cousin tried to shield me back with his arm, but here I am this scrappy snowflake with a hostile perma scowl as these idiots flailed around on the pavement, and just grumbled back, “These bitches don’t know how to hit. This is embarrassing to watch. Let me end this.”

ENFJ: I briefly started a cult my sophomore year of high school. I didn’t take it very seriously, I was far too entertained, so that’s probably why we never had much footing.

INFJ: My friend and I once found a wandering, lost drunk girl on the beach. And we were like, 'shit we can’t leave you alone. It’s getting dark. Us girls gotta stick together.’ So I offered her my water, and my phone to use but she couldn’t remember any numbers and no one would answer, and asked her where her friends were. Of course, she couldn’t remember, and I was just like okay, do you remember anything about the area where they might be? She had no idea. So I was like, alright, could totes use a sign right now. Next thing I know, I look up and there’s a flock of geese flying in a perfect formation. So I look to my friend and I’m like, alright, let’s help her look in this direction. My friend kinda gave me a wtf face like if you say so. I told her I just had a feeling. Six minutes later, drunk girl’s equally drunk friends cheer upon her return and offer us beers. And that’s how I returned a lost drunk girl with my symbolic reach in bird knowledge.

“Not to pry or anything, but that book you’re holding… well it was the worst 400 pages I’ve ever been forced to read in my entire life. I mean, like, really really bad. The kinda bad I wouldn’t even wish on my worst enemy.”

Nursey looked down at his copy of Jane Urquhart’s The Stone Carvers, fighting as hard as humanly possible to keep the shit-eating-grin off his face. This ginger kid was kinda cute, but he knew next to nothing about classic Canadian literature if he thought The Stone Carvers was crap. Nursey smoothed his thumb over the book’s worn cover. The spine had been bent from years of wear, the pages dog-eared and highlighted in a different shade each new time he read it. By no means did it hold the title of Nursey’s favourite book, but Ginger definitely didn’t need to know that.

“It’s actually my favourite book,” Nursey said, leaning against the bookcase behind him, “I’ve loved it since childhood.” Ginger’s face dropped into a questioning glare just as the bookcase Nursey was leaning on began to tilt back. It took them both a second to realize it wasn’t bolted to the floor. Ginger grabbed Nursey’s hand, stopping him from falling down with it.

One by one the first bookcase knocked the rest of them down like dominoes. The two boys stood there, looking on in horror at what Nursey had done.


“Run!” Ginger was still holding Nursey’s hand as they bolted from the library.

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Mistletoe (Steve x Reader)

A/N: I’m sorry it’s been like a week since I’ve actually posted something but I’ve been so busy with New York and I’ve just been so tired, but I finally found some time to write something! I know it’s out of order and it should’ve been Bucky’s turn, but I love Steve a lot. I hope you like!

Prompt/Request from anon:  Might I suggest small town fluff with cop!steve? The idea is stuck in my head and I think it’d be so cute ❤

word count: 1293

Originally posted by naih-reedus

“Shit,” you cursed as you realized you took another wrong in the residential area. Your neighbor had taught you a shortcut earlier that morning to get into the downtown area while avoiding all the traffic on the main roads, but you couldn’t remember it even if your life depended on it. You had just moved into the small suburban neighborhood about an hour away from the big city. It gave you the taste of living in the city, but it definitely relieved you of all the difficulties that came along with it. It had been a couple of weeks since you moved in and you were still struggling to fit into the small town. “I just want to get to Target,” you whined to yourself as you seemed to be going around in circles, seeing the same yellow house pass by you for the tenth time. You really just needed to pick up some toothpaste.

You were so deep in thought you barely noticed the red and blue lights flashing brightly behind you until it rang the siren loudly, making you jump suddenly. You cursed loudly to yourself. You were going to get arrested for a tube of toothpaste. Slowly, you turned on your blinker as you carefully parked on the side of the road in front of the same damn yellow house. You were tempted to burn it down if you had to see it one more time. You shuffled around quickly as you collected your license and your registrations for your car before the cop tapped on your window. Though it wasn’t completely appropriate, the first thought that came to your mind was how cute he was. Forcing a smile, you rolled down the window and greeted the police cautiously. “Hi,” you said stupidly, despite telling yourself to act calm.

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