WELCOME TO LITCHFIELD!
Made this little collage to show parts of the inside of Litchfield prison and some of the characters from the show Orange is the New Black, which is what inspired 'Blood must have blood'.
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“Alright, Baby Blues,” Nichols said, meaning you. “What you do to land yourself in here? What, was there a shoplifting incident gone wrong or something?” she chuckled.
You looked down nervously, clearing your throat several times over in hopes of finding the words.
“We-well, um, no. I-I-I, there-there was an incident. With my brother. Stepbrother!” You were quick to add. “Kind of, a…um, self-defense situation gone… wrong.”
You kept your eyes down on your food instead of meeting their eyes, letting them work it all out themselves. When you finally did dare sneak a peek, Nichols was watching you intently.
“I don’t get it,” Morello pointed out, still chewing her food.
Nichols made quick work of spelling it out for everyone.
“She killed her brother.”
Morello stopped chewing, releasing a weak ‘oh’. The nun drew a deep breath once realization hit her.
“Stepbrother,” you corrected. “It was an accident.”
Nichols laughed like your addition had been redundant.
“Oh, I’m sure it was, kid! I-I mean, look at you. He’d have to be the tiniest thing in the world for you to up and murder the guy,” she chuckled, the others joining in, all in jest. “He wasn’t, was he?” she asked worriedly. “’Cause if he was, I’m gonna look like the biggest douchbag ever, ya know.”
You forced a tug of your cheeks, grateful to have it be light-hearted more than anything.
“No, no, he wasn’t,” you said. “He was… a guard actually.”
Morello pointed at you with her plastic fork.
“Wait, you don’t mean Millers, do you?”
You froze at the mere mention of his name, let alone in a place where no one should know it.
“Who?” Yoga asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Nicky said. “That Millers guy, remember? Short blonde hair, tattoos here and there, black spiral earing. Real sadistic fuck. Not like Pornstache, but you know. Not really a prodigy either.” Nichols looked at you worriedly, chewing on the end of her fork, her food long gone. “You didn’t know he worked here?”
You just shook your head and whispered a ‘no’.
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Gay ships getting screwed over by homophobic producers/writers as soon as they get wind of it is nothing new, but what has been done to stucky really is uniquely cruel.
I’ve never heard of a gay ship having one member’s importance to the other simply... written out of the show/film? (Has this been done?)
Never heard of a gay ship having decades of important source material about them deliberately sabotaged just to spite a gay ship (that wasn’t even canonically gay or ever going to be so, anyway?)
Or having the (heterosexual-ising) female character literally put into the male character’s canon place, using his gay-inspiring scenes, with any other ship.
I’ve never heard of an actor’s brilliant performance, which made certain lines iconic; whose skill as an actor is the very reason they’re iconic... simply being taken away from him and credited to an untalented actress who never said them.
Just to damage an un-canon gay ship?!
Imagine they brought out new Trek shows with Kirk and Spock and said ‘anyway, Spock never meant anything to Kirk, every Spirk thing he said was actually said to/about his new wife Spacky (Woman who joined the Hating-Vulcans Society and hired guys to torture Spock) and here’s a flashback to Spacky as Kirk’s Chief Science Officer all those years. Also we will be buying up other media and editing all tie-ins to reflect that they are nOT GAY.’
It’s unprecedentedly monstrous.
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The popular kids 💛❤️💙
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It’s kind of embarrassing how much I miss Avengers Academy. D:
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Roger and John Taylor of Duran Duran with Yukihiro Takahashi of Yellow Magic Orchestra :)
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atlas and pbody should hold hands
I think so too
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Uncanny Avengers #5 variant cover by Stephanie Hans
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ROUND 3 MATCH 37: SHAGGY VS. QUILL
Shaggy Rogers from a nonspecific Scooby Doo faces Quill Kipps from the Lockwood & Co. books. Who do you like more?
Shaggy Propaganda:
"ZOINKS"
Quill Propaganda:
"He's such a loser. Has beef with 3 16 year olds. He's like 4'10. Had one of the best character arcs ever. He almost died. His sword is bejeweled."
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Frat-bro Friday!
Steve and reader are best friends, she has feelings for Steve but he's unaware and falls for the "new girl" Natasha. He stills values reader in his life but she decides not to come b/w Steve and Nat and leave them. Steve’s and Nat was suppose to be just summer romance, but when reader left, Steve wasn't really himself, Nat feels it, realises he's in love with reader but found out she was pregnant with Steve's baby. They maintain a nice relationship, Steve confides in Nat that he's in love with reader. Baby born, they go their separate ways, still co parenting. 8 years later, when Steve’s daughter was in summer camp he found reader again. From there starts his winning her back.
I'm sorry this is so long. And I couldn't think of more...
There were moments that were forever engrained in your mind that you would look back on through thin perceptions, wishing and hoping with everything you had that you could go back and change how things had played out. The memories that haunted you were phantoms that crept in the corners of your mind, the moments that mocked you were all rooted in one specific time period during university.
He was your best friend, he was an athlete with charm and charisma to sweep anyone off their feet with a single bat of his eyes. Steve Rogers was an all-American kind of boy who was outgoing enough to land him in a goof fraternity yet not so cocky and arrogant to be off putting.
He had the world at his fingertips, he had everything and anything he could have wanted. Your friendship was good, it was strong and unwavering, it was the kind of friendship that could have naturally bled into a relationship, though the odds always seemed to be stacked against you.
First, it was a drunken confession that he had met someone who was beautiful and breathtaking, a student of Russia studies that was the daughter of some diplomat. That confession happened when Steve was in your bed after a night of partying, hanging around you to stave off the possibility of falling into a ditch. the confession had cut through you, it had ripped parts of your heart into thin confetti that turned to ash, it was too late for you and you were left with the decision to either confess and ruin his budding relationship or swallow your feelings.
After the confession, had come the buildup of their relationship, and all the positivity around the ipso-facto it couple. Steve and Natasha were perfect for each other, they had been connected by apparent deeply seeded bonds that caused further damage to your emotionally fragile heart.
“I think i love her.” Steve hd confessed before he and Natasha had went on a trip together, one of the student organized trips to the mountains before the end of the second term. “I wish you were coming with us, we’d have so much fun together.”
Steve didn’t know that you were leaving, he hadn’t anticipated your departure from the school and your transfer to the west coast. You were leaving, you had gotten an internship at a charitable organization you’d been vying for. You couldn’t tell Steve, you couldn’t have dared tell him before his trip.
Maybe it was the coward’s way out, maybe you were taking it easy but you were done being hurt.
He tried calling you when he got back and you were gone, he tried reaching out to you on social media, begging to talk or find you because he needed you, anything at all. One of your friends had told you that he went to your dorm looking for you, that something had happened on the trip that stunned both Natasha and Steve.
Part of you wanted to give in, part of you wanted to call him back and reach out to hear it. But there was a bigger part of you that knew you needed to protect yourself, the part of you that was self preserving.
You didn’t reach out, you didn’t want to hear about his perfect romance with Natasha. You couldn’t have even if you wanted to, even if you had shut down every part of your brain that screamed at you to let yourself heal, you couldn’t have willed yourself to give in.
You lost Steve, he would always be your one regret. And if you could have turned back time, you would have been bolder and more open with your feelings.
** **
The first sound of screaming and squealing had radiated throughout the camp, the first day was upon the staff and counsellors. You were still in the office looking over the plans for the rest of the first day after campers had checked in, only looking up when the bus dropping off nearly all the campers had begun to pull away.
It wouldn’t have been any significant event to steal and hold your attention however beyond the view of the bus was a man helping with his daughters bags. It was the sight of the man that you would have recognized anywhere, even after all the years had passed.
It was as if you were in a daze, you were already headed down the steps with the list of events in your hands. You’d pushed open the door and skipped down the steps in a loud barraging trounce that had stolen both Steve and his daughters attention.
“Hey campers! Who’s ready to check in?” One of the counsellors bounded toward Steve and his daughter, addressing them as well as the campers behind the two.
“Y/N,” he spoke your name like it was a secret that weighed on his tongue, “is that you?”
You gripped the clipboard tightly in your hand and swallowed your words as they built on your tongue. There was so much you would have wished to say, so much you could have said and yet in a moment it had all vanished.
“Natasha, is she here too?” You were aware of his daughter looking between the two of you with a kind of coy smile on her face.
“Natasha…no. She, or rather we-“
“Hi sweetheart,” the counsellor crouched before her with a special lanyard ready for her with her name on it, “if you come with me, we’ll get you set up in your bunk while your daddy signs a form.”
“I’ll see you in a week.” Steve had bent and hugged her tightly, kissing into her hair before he glanced your way. “You’ll be good?”
“I promise, daddy.” She grinned and pulled away, following the counsellor down a path to a set of cabins near the back of the clearing.
When it was Steve and you alone, Steve had cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak before snapping it shut again. He had furrowed his brows and pursed his lips, neither one of you being able to say much.
“Forms,” another counsellor passed you, mumbling under his breath, “get him to sign the forms.”
You lift the clipboard to your vision, spying what needed to be signed and then lowered it once more. You set your sights back on Steve, another half beat of silence before you nodded your head.
“If you wanna follow me into the office…” you turned and walked back up the steps, knowing that he was following you.
You opened the door and let him pass, following him while a flurry of unkempt emotions rose from deep within you. All kinds of unrestricted thoughts that you’d long since buried had risen to the surface until you were left staring at Steve while signed the forms you’d held out for him.
“Natasha and I aren’t together.” Steve dropped the pen with a plop before he ran his hand over his chin. “We didn’t…we co-parent but we’re not-“
“Y/N,” the door opened, one of your team leads poking her head in, “we’re ready for our fearless director.”
“Director?” Steve spoke with admiration. “Really?”
“Really.” You smiled small and drew your eyebrows together.
“I have to go but its been nice-“ “I was wondering if-“
You spoke at the same time, speaking over one another.
“It was nice seeing you again Steve. I have to go.” You stepped around him and headed for the door, one hand on the frame and the other on the handle.
You wait a moment before you stepped outside, leaving Steve alone in the office while a copy of the form was being made for him.
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HARPIES!!! ♥
That's right, I'm baaaaack! Well, there's an update at least!
Chapter 65 of 'Blood must have blood' is now up! ♥
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Eleven days.
That’s how long it had been since that night in the laundry room.
Eleven days.
Apparently that’s all it took. All it took for you to stop thinking of them as abusers. As tyrants. As sadists. As rapists.
As the villains making your life a living hell and wearing the badge with honour. All it took for you to forget.
Eleven days, and you were dreaming about that very same laundry room, but in a totally different setting.
Eleven days, and you had repainted the whole picture.
Eleven days.
Eleven fricking days.
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Check it out! ♥
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#OTD in 1918 – John Devoy claims Roger Casement to blame for the 1916 Easter Rising’s failure.
New York-based John Devoy, editor of the recently suppressed Gaelic American has claimed credit for being the key individual behind the ‘German Sinn Féiner’ efforts to launch a revolt in Ireland in 1916. The claim comes in a letter, a copy of which was published last month in the USA.
The letter, discovered on the premises of Lawrence DeLacey at the time of his arrest in California in August…
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Not sure how I did on these - I ended up doing mid-recovery Bucky and happy GQ Steve visiting him in Wakanda with a flower crown instead of a hat (I can’t draw hats apparently) and some emotional support goats for fun? I hope you like it anyway anons! 💜
Reblogs are loved but please don’t repost this art!
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Instigation: Chapter One
Summary: Steve sends Wanda to seek out an old witch he once knew, and eventually, Wanda brings said old witch back to meet her family.
Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness
Chapter Rating: T.
Fic Rating: T.
AO3
next chapter
Mid-May, 2015.
Wanda stands outside the New York Sanctum.
It’s an impressive building. Huge. Gorgeous glass with a shape that might as well be mystical etched into it in shining gold. The top is a dome, which is even more impressive given its age. It literally gleams in the sunlight, which is odd, given how many pass it by without even stopping to look. But, then, they’re probably used to it. They see it every day. If she lived here, maybe she would be used to it, too.
But Wanda doesn’t live here. Even now, she only lives on the outskirts of town, and live is an interesting word. She has no American citizenship, nothing to say she deserves to be here, nothing to say she can stay if the government—
The government isn’t going to send her away because the Avengers, that superpowered super team, has decided to keep her here. With them. It’s the same as before: she becomes immune to government interference because a more powerful political opponent takes her under her wing. Never mind that these Avengers are apparently good. She’d thought the same of Hydra.
It’s easy to believe when she wants to believe.
Wanda stands outside the New York Sanctum with a slip of paper in her hands, looks down at the address on the paper, reads it for what feels like the millionth time, looks back up at the Sanctum, squints, and then walks past the Sanctum to the apartment complex next door. It’s shabby. Old. Probably as old as the Sanctum itself, if not older, and probably more expensive to live in, even with what are likely horrible apartments. She knows a thing or two about those; when they could afford it, she and Pietro lived in plenty.
“You have got to be joking,” Wanda murmurs in her thick accent. She glances down at the address one more time – and, yes, there’s an apartment number on there, so it’s definitely the apartment complex Steve meant and not the much bigger and more impressive Sanctum.
“When I was a boy,” Steve had said, “there was a woman with power similar to yours who lived here. We didn’t see her very often; Mom told me to have nothing to do with her. But every now and again, when she was desperate enough—”
“Sounds like an old fairytale,” Wanda had cut him off. “I don’t need a cottage witch. I don’t do magic.”
But Steve insisted Wanda at least go check the place out. Seventy years might be a long time, but she could still be alive. She’d be in her nineties, but with her power, he was certain she’d still be around. Or maybe a new “witch” lived there, someone who took on that woman’s place in society. Vision looked up the apartment and the records of ownership, finding that whoever lived there in the forties still lived there now. Wanda chalked that up to rent control and an apartment that got passed down to a son or daughter or gifted to a family friend, and for a while, she adamantly refused to check things out.
Eventually, though, Wanda grew so tired of Steve’s insistence that she agreed to go. Nat even offered to join her, although Steve’s stories reminded her of so much folklore that it made her uncomfortable, but she told her there was no point. She wasn’t going to find anyone there and didn’t want anyone else to waste their time going with her. Now, though, standing in front of the apartment complex, she decided there was one good thing about being here: if she struck out at the apartment, she could always check out the Sanctum next door.
Not that she believes her powers have anything to do with magic.
Wanda walks into the apartment, only to find that it smells of dust and mildew, and walks along the very, very long hallway to a door waiting at the very end, one situated on the side that looks out on the Sanctum. She checks the number, checks her paper again, and then steels her face before climbing three floors of stairs, all the way to the top of the building. It doesn’t matter how high up she gets, the Sanctum next door is still taller, and what’s worse is that the smoke that she hadn’t smelled on the first floor seeps into the air on the second and grows stronger with each floor.
Dirty, dank, and disgusting. Just like the apartments she’d lived in with Pietro. But that doesn’t make this smell like home.
On the top floor, at the apartment that holds the same space as the one she’d checked previously, Wanda reads the number, reads her paper again, and sighs. It matches. Well, then, this is her stop. She steps forward and knocks on the door twice, not as loud as she could, but not too soft either.
“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any!” comes calling from within.
“I’m not selling anything,” Wanda says, cheeks flushing quickly with frustration. “A friend of mine sent me to see an….” She checks the paper again, trying to read Steve’s not so tidy scrawl. “Agatha Harkness?”
There’s some shuffling inside the apartment before the door cracks open. “Who wants to know?”
Wanda stares at the woman standing in the doorframe. “Um.”
See, Wanda wouldn’t have really cared too terribly much about the woman’s appearance in and of itself. She’s attractive, sure, and there’s something about how wild her dark hair is that makes Wanda want to tangle her fingers in it, to pull her to her, and, in an attempt to tame it, make it excessively worse. But she can ignore that, she can ignore the woman’s pale skin, she can even ignore the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, but what she can’t ignore is that the woman is dressed in a t-shirt that barely makes its way down to her bare thighs because she isn’t wearing any pants.
“Hey, hon.” The woman’s voice breaks through Wanda’s thoughts. “My eyes are up here.”
Wanda jumps. “Sorry, sorry.” She runs her fingers through her hair and draws her eyes back up, trying not to linger on the woman’s body any longer than she already has, but then she meets her eyes, thinking that will make things easier, and has to stop again. “Um.”
It honestly is not at all fair, how this woman looks and how she should be wearing more clothes. This is not her fault.
The woman smirks. “You’re not so bad yourself, toots.” She breaks eye contact with Wanda, lets her eyes wander the way Wanda’s already have, and deepens that smug look. “You wanted something?”
“You’re Agatha Harkness?” Wanda splutters out, refusing to believe it. Agatha Harkness was an adult when Steve was a child; she’s got to be ninety or a hundred or something like that. There’s no way this woman – this very attractive woman – is any older than her mid-thirties. She’s got to be a new resident. Or a hot daughter or grand-daughter or some sort of extended relative. This can’t be—
“Who wants to know?” the woman asks, eyes dropping to the paper now held tight in Wanda’s hand like a lifeline. “You said something about a friend, hon?”
“Uh, right, yes, right.” Wanda’s accent grows thicker as she grows more flustered, and she mutters in Sokovian under her breath with the assumption that the other woman can’t understand her. “Steve. Steve Rogers. He said his mother used to visit a witch here when he was a child.” She can’t help but roll her eyes. “He did not call her a witch, but she sounds like a fairytale to me.”
The woman listens to her words and gives a little nod. “Steve Rogers,” she echoes. “You mean that hunk they’re calling Captain America? Isn’t he a hundred years old?”
Wanda’s gaze shifts away from the woman. “Eighties. He’s in his eighties.” She bites her lower lip. “I told him she wouldn’t be here anymore, but he was so insistent that she could help me.”
“You got tired of his nagging, hon. Don’t try to shortchange it.”
“I got tired of his nagging,” Wanda admits. She glances up. “But you don’t look to be her, so—”
“Help you with what, doll?” the woman interrupts. She gives Wanda another onceover, and her smirk returns. “Don’t tell me you mean this attraction between us.”
Anyone else, and Wanda would grow so frustrated that she would have left without another word. But this woman….
She’s attractive, and Wanda can’t help it. She wants to show off.
“With this,” she says, lifting her hand and letting her power out. It turns the paper she’d been holding to ash, and as she turns her hand, letting the power thread through her fingertips, she lets the ash dump out onto the floor. For all that the complex smells horribly of smoke, her addition doesn’t hold the same scent. Then she brings her hand up, that scarlet power still snaking around her fingers. “He thought his old witch would be able to help with this.”
The woman’s eyes focus on the power, and its light reflects scarlet in her pupils. Surrounded by her bright blue irises, it seems like there’s a thin ring of deep purple between them. “What’s your name, hon?”
“Wanda,” she says, drawing her power back and letting her hand drop. “Wanda Maximoff.”
The woman takes Wanda’s hand in hers and squeezes. “Agnes Harker.” Then she tugs on Wanda’s hand and pulls her into the apartment, shutting the door behind her. “And I can teach you everything you need to know.”
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Beautiful Ginger
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