Sending “I Hope You Get That Job” Vibes To The People Out Here Tryna Get Jobs

Reblog if you've ever read a fic that was better than published books

if you’re white and you act like race issues are just “unnecessary drama” or “discourse” then sorry to tell you but you’re just…. racist

JUST LETTING Y'ALL KNOW WHERE THIS BLOG STANDS.

Mapping Your Body

Frankie Morales x Reader; 751 Words

Warnings: talk about injuries and scars

A/N: Thinking about Frankie being shy, and possibly self-conscious of his scars.

Your finger traces along the puckered, light pink line across his cheek bone. 

‘Just one more to memorize’ 

Frankie had a lot of scars. His limbs were littered with lines and marks. Monuments to his sacrifices, adventures, and even clumsiness. Some were new, some were from back way before you even knew him. Some had incredible stories attached to them, that made your side hurt from laughter. Some of them carried such close calls, you couldn’t deal with listening to them without feeling the floor fall from underneath you. 

There was a fairly large. yet faded splotch on his knee from when his cousin accidentally knocked him off a bike. Whether or not the bike was made for a 7 year old and he was 16 was immaterial to the story. It hurt, and he ended up nearly getting gangrene from it. And he will remind you of it over and over again. 

Keep reading

I love this

High As The Stars

I do not own the GIF.

Word Count: 1239

This hasn't been the first time Din has returned with more wounds than you could count. With each lucky bounty that took less than one day stacked up the slow amount of karma waiting for Din the next time. And here you were, hovering over the Mandalorian as he bled out.

"Hey! Just keep your eyes open. Squeeze my hand."

You shout, one hand busily tearing the beskar from his torso as the other was faintly gripped in his bloody leather hand.

"C-Cyare."

You press a small kiss against the helmet, pulling out antiseptic wipes to clean the heavy gashes. You grimaced at his moan of pain, his grip becoming unbearable as you cleaned sand and other bits from the nasty wounds.

"Don't speak. Just... stay with me Din." He began to wrestle against you.

"Kriffing stop moving!" Din stills, his grasp a butterfly's touch on your hand as you pull it back. You needed both hands to administer the bacta shots. Another grunt followed the injection of the syringe, and you sighed in relief as you slowly watched the major wounds close together. Disposing of several wipes and bloodied rags, you turn back to face Din, who's out cold on the floor.

"What would you do without me." You muttered before completely striping him of his armour and weapons. It was a terrible idea to drag him up the ramp of the Razor Crest when he had stumbled outside, and you doubted you could do it again.

With what little strength you had, you pressed him against a makeshift bed. Soft blankets and pillows surrounded him as you tucked him in. He would need all his energy back once he woke up, no doubt wanting to jump straight back to Nevarro to collect the credits.

You sat by his side, smiling softly as you grasped his hand. At least he had come back to you in one piece. He was lucky that he had made it to the Crest, or you would've had no idea where he was.

A soft mumble escaped the modulator as Din slowly sat up, his body swaying from the sudden motion.

"Hey. Take it easy." You mutter, letting him lean his weight against your smaller form.

"How you feelin?" You ask, eyes shining with worry as Din blankly stared at you, his helmet tilting further to the side the longer he stared.

"You look fam-familiar." He slurred, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Mhm. I am your only other crewmate. Been together for around a year." There was a moment of silence before his usually stoic and sarcastic voice had shifted to something akin to a love sick puppy.

"You look so pr-pretty mesh'la." You lay him back down with ease, squeezing his hand that was clutched to your side as you laid it down beside him.

"Is that the bacta talkin to me Din?" You tease, watching as he struggles to take off his helmet. With gentle hands, you release the Mandalorian from his beskar prison. His eyes were hazy as he stared off into the distance before looking back at you.

"You should get some rest. Sleep here. I'll be right beside you." He shoves you away with what little strength he had left in his muscles, but even wounded and delirious, he was still strong enough to push you back.

"S-Stop. I have a riduuuur." He drew out the foreign word, and you peck another kiss to his cheek. His face scrunched up as he pouted, his eyes glistening.

"I won't cheat on my riduur. Even if you look as pretty as them." A wide grin splashes over your face as you brush his messy hair out of his face.

"You think I'm pretty?" Din groans, trying to roll onto his side so he didn't have to look at you. But after the fourth attempt he huffed before flopping down on the soft blankets.

"The-The prettiest." Din nodded, his eyes roaming the features of your face as it came in and out of focus.

"Come on Din, go back to sleep." It took a few moments for the words to register in his brain before he was moaning in protest.

"Got to see my cyar'ika." His protests were firm as you sighed.

"Fine. I'll get them. Wait here." He diligently nodded his head as you disappeared from view. You chuckle to yourself. Din had always been so shy to flirt with you, but here he was, diligently keeping his promise to be with you forever. You exit the weapon lockers and smile happily as Din's face morphs into a goofy smile.

"Verd'ika!" He exclaimed, seeming to gain his strength in the short period of time you had pretended to get yourself. You coo at him as he embraces you in a clumsy hug.

"I've missed you. You so... so good to me." Din began to slowly tear up, and you gently rubbed his back as he began to sob into your shoulder. Despite being vulnerable and high as an X-Wing in the clouds, he still had a possessive grip.

"Mi-Missed you. Haven't seen you in y-years!" His words were choked and lazily pronounced.

"Love you too Din. Glad you came back to me." Din's cries began to recede as he pressed harsh kisses against the side of your neck.

"Din!" You scold, pushing him back. He gives you the sweetest puppy eyes, chocolate brown swirling at you.

"Cyare..." You roll your eyes, helping the warrior to his feet.

"You can get all the lovin' once you get cleaned up and back to our bunk." His weight wasn't as harsh in the beginning, and you were able to help him stumble his way over towards the refresher attached to the shared bunk.

Deeply inhaling the soap bar, Din gives you the softest smile.

"Aloan roses." He identifies, and you give him a small pat on the back in praise. "Come on you tin head. Let's get you cleaned up." He didn't hesitate to strip down, bare as the day he was born. Din gave you a cocky smile,

"Like what you see?" "Yeah I do. But first get clean. So I can admire you better than under all those layers of sand."

It was a hassel getting him cleaned up. He was distracting and happily pressing your body into the stream of warm water, effectively soaking you to the bone. But you couldn't be too mad. His delighted expression was too sweet for you to be mad.

Finally getting the two of you in dry clothing, you snuggled up besides Din as he pressed against you.

"Love you mesh'la." You giggle, gently brushing your finger against the curve of his jaw.

"Love you too Din."

There was another moment of silence before... "You wanna hear a joke." You wack him on his side. He had done this before. When the two of you were crunched on time to rest before bounding straight into another fight. And it had both annoyed you and sent you into a fit of chuckles when he tried to break the ice. It was endearing how he had tried to cheer you up that night. You were really grumpy, and in your defense Din drank the rest of the caf that morning.

"Go to sleep Din." There was a huff of protest before he pressed his face against the smooth skin of your neck and inhaled.

Din smiled to himself as he fell asleep. You smelled like home. His home.

Gaza is the world's largest "open air prison"

Burnt out // Rex x Reader

For the person who requested the breakup imagine, Tumblr ate your request: 

Rex x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warning: Breakup

“We were a perfect match. Maybe that’s why we burned out.”

It started subtly. Rex didn’t call or message as much when he was away. Whereas he used to call every chance he got, you were now lucky to receive a short message saying, “sorry can’t talk, I’m ok.”

No, ‘see you soon’ or ‘I love you’ attached, but you brushed it off thinking, maybe it’s just a long mission or he’s just really busy. Then it leaked into his mannerisms when he was home, he would spend more time are the barracks and fewer times with you. When he was with you, it was awkward and tense. Comfortable silences were replaced with tense ones. Little things that used to seem cute to him, now left him frustrated or annoyed. He used to love how you hummed while you cleaned and how your feet shuffled when you woke up. Now, instead of small smiles, you were met with:

“(Y/N), I’m sorry, but I could really use some quiet.” and “Pick up your feet, the entire building can hear you.”

So, you made the adjustments, no realizing how you stopped feeling completely comfortable around him. And then you realized, the same thing was happening to you. You used to think it was adorable how he stole blankets, and how he didn’t help with dishes because he never learned how. Now, it drove you up the wall.  This was how you felt on first dates and when you have important house guests, not how you should feel around the person who you were in love with. Sometimes, it seemed like y’all would argue about nothing. Nights of snippy comments because someone left the light on. When you kissed him goodbye, he didn’t kiss back. Honestly, you didn’t know what happened to the two of you, but nevertheless, you waited for it to blow over. 

Then, one fateful night, in an effort to not spend another tense night on the couch, not actually watching the news, y’all agreed to go to 79′s with the rest of the 501st. That’s when it made sense. 

The two of you walked in, and when you looked up at him, he had that look of awe that he used to reserve only for you. But now, you watched him throw it across the room at an all too familiar togruta. That’s when you understood. He had fallen in love with someone else, and out of love with you. You spent the entire night deep in unhappy thought, but Rex never noticed- only occasionally ordering you more drinks, not noticing the four other still full glasses in front of you. He was too busy laughing at Ahsoka’s jokes. And God bless, you tried to hate her, but she was so nice and amazing, it was impossible to be mad at her. And it was hard to be mad at Rex for falling for her.  So now you were sitting in a booth, just sad. 

Finally, you had enough and you asked Fives and Echo to let you out of the booth. They both flashed you looks of concern, but you gave them a small smile of reassurance. You were almost out of the door when Rex finally noticed you left. 

“She looked upset- you might wanna check up on her.” Echo suggested, watching the Captain crane his neck around to look for you. “She headed towards the door.”

“Yeah, Yeah, I’ll do that.” With that, he squeezed out of the booth and went out to find you. You were already a block away when he caught up with you. 

“(Y/N), what’s wrong, you left by yourself?” He asked, but made no move to grab your hand or hug you like he once might have. You sighed and crossed your arms, putting on a brave face. 

“Surprised you noticed. That you came.” You shrugged, it wasn’t snappy or accusatory, but just defeated. Rex knew what was coming.

“Of course, I came. (Y/N), what’s this about?” He was already puffing up for a fight, but you had left the ring a few hours ago. 

“Rex you’re not in love with me anymore. It’s obvious. And it’s ok, but please tell me so I can find someone who does love me like you did.” It came out as a plea, and Rex realized what you meant. His muscles tensed up defensively. 

“That’s not fair, (Y/N).” Was all he said, he eyes weren’t soft like usual. You shook your head and gave him a stare just as hard. 

“No. It’s completely fair.” You started, arms unfolding from your chest do gesture wildly, “Rex, if you’re still completely in love with me- like you were in the beginning- then please, help me work this out. But if not, then it’s unfair for both of us.”

Where there were once soft words and promises of forever, there were crossed arms, harsh words, and shattered promises. Rex knew this and only admitted it by letting his gaze drop to the ground. 

“I’m sorry.” It was soft and sincere and for the first time in a while, he actually looked sad to see you go. You just nodded, praying the tears would stay in until you were gone. 

“Ok then,” You paused and sniffled, Rex knew it wasn’t his place to wrap his arms around you anymore, but he always hated seeing you cry, “Take care of yourself, Rex.”

Rex watched you walk away for the last time, and just like that, it was over.  

Two months later: 

You spent quite a few weeks crying over him, but eventually, things got easier. Fives and Echo were the only ones who kept in touch with you, and they checked up on you, but you never saw Rex again. Soon, You started going on dates, or more accurately your best friends forced you on dates. Some of them were ok, and some of them were hilariously bad, but no one was quite like Rex. But you kept going on, and eventually, life was close to normal again- even if your apartment was quieter and colder than it once was. 

But occasionally, you would run into some of the older members of the 501st. You would flash a friendly smile and wave, but turn around and walk the other way to avoid an awkward conversation. They would wave back, remembering when their captain was so in love with you that he couldn’t think straight. Then, you realized when you lost Rex, you also lost a lot of amazing friends. Soon inside jokes turned into awkward waves and those turned into pretending you didn’t see them. 

And even worse, occasionally you’d catch a glimpse of someone who looked strikingly like Rex and your heart would stop. Then you would realize, this trooper had green armor and a similar haircut. But that didn’t stop the memories of love and laughter of the good times when you felt more love from a man worlds away, but it also tore open the wounds of the bad times, when you felt the loneliest when he was lying right beside you. 

After the war:

It might have seemed dramatic, but four months after the breakup, you decided to move. You chose one of the more developed planets in the outer rim and found work rather easily. No more Rex, no more memories, a fresh start, and it went well. 

But even then, when the war was over and the Empire rose from its ashes, rumors of the Jedi and the clones swirled and demanded to be heard- even in the outer rim. And every now and then, you couldn’t help but wonder what did happen to Rex, because somewhere in your heart you still loved him and always would. 

Legacy - Part 1

Pairing: Carter! reader x ?????

Summary: Everyone know Peggy Carter is a force to be reckoned with, who cold have guessed her granddaughter would hold the same ferocity, if not more.This story follow y/n Carter’s life as she faces the obstacles life pitches her.

Warnings: None

A/N: I want to thank @agentmarvel13 without her this story would never be here. She helped bring my ideas to life and the main character is inspired from her story Another Carter. For the benefit of this story Peggy Carter and Daniel Sousa ended up together and they had one son together.

1989 Age 5

“Grandma isn’t it supposed to rain today?” You tug on your grandmothers’ hand as she guides you closer the playground. When she looks to you, you point up to the grey sky, the dark clouds steadily moving.

“Well you know what that means?”  She smiles widely at you “we get to play in the rain silly!”

“AND THE MUD!?” You squeal in excitement, she hesitates before giving in “I don’t see why not, just no eating it again.” She teases 

 You giggle as you skip beside her, smile growing as the large playground and other children comes into view. One group especially catches your eye, an older boy picking on a girl. 

Her pleas reach your ears and you can see her struggling to shove him away as he yanks her pig tails. she releases a pained shriek; before your grandmother could even try to stop

you, you’re storming over to the scene.

You step in front of the boy, huffing out at him “leave her alone!” 

 “Oh yeah” he laughs “what’re you gonna do about it?” He shoves your shoulder, you stumble back, the other girl barely catching you. 

  You smile at the boy before launching at him, your tiny fist cracking against his nose. The sound of his cry echoes through the park, his own hands cupping his nose as he yelps 

He races to his mother, her face contorting from worried to angry in seconds as he continues sobbing 

“thank you.” 

You turn to the girl, her eyes wide with a tiny grin “are you okay?”

“Yeah! You saved me!”

“He’s a bully, and I don’t like bullies – “she pulls you into a hug,

“I’m Darcy Dugan.”  She introduces herself 

“I’m y/n Carter.”

“y/n! Darling can you come here for a moment.”

“uh oh, you’re gonna get in trouble - “Darcy’s tone is full of fear for you 

You grab her hand “will you come with me?” You whisper, when she agrees you both run over to her. Beside her is the bully, and his snotty looking mother 

“dear, did you punch this young man?” Your grandma questions you 

“yes, I did.” You proudly admit, your head is held high 

She sighs “y/n- “

“he’s a bully gram! He pulled Darcy’s hair!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Children! - “your grandmother stops before you two can continue “both of you should apologize - “

“excuse me? - “his mother steps in “she hit him- “

“and apparently your son was causing havoc. Two apologies are required here ma’am.” 

“My son will not apologize.”

“Then neither will my granddaughter. Bullies do not deserve apologies – “she turns to you “come on ladies, I believe I just felt a rain drop and we can’t enjoy it stuck under this tree with such dull company.” 

 She takes your hand, along with Darcy’s before leading you into the drizzle. 

“don’t think you’re out of the woods yet missy- “she kneels down to the both of you

“but grandma Peggy! Captain America beat up bullies all the time, and so did grandpa Sousa!” 

“My grandpa tells me stories about Captain America all the time!” Darcy excitedly pitches in “he said- he said they were friends! “

 Peggy’s eyes widen before she can speak, another cut in

“well look at that, never thought I’d see you at a playground Peggy.” At the gruff voice your grandmother smiled, turning to the man. 

“Grandpa!” Darcy runs into his arms, hugging him as he lifts her

“fancy seeing you here dum dum.” She greets him 

“this is my new friend y/n! She saved me from the bully.” Darcy tells him, he turns to you 

“well thank you little lady!” He looks to Peggy “the apple doesn’t far from the tree does it Carter?” 

 Peggy chuckles, smiling down at you as you giggle 

“now what’s this I hear about Steve Rogers?” He asks

“my lovely granddaughter seems to think that just because Captain America beat up bullies, means she can do the same.”

His laughter is full bellied, Peggy glares at him playfully “even after all these years, he’s still finding a way to drive me mad.” She mumbles, earning another laugh 

“Grandma Peggy, can we play in the rain now.” You ask 

She nods, watching as Darcy is set on her feet next to you. You grab her hand, tugging her through the rain, giggling as you two begin your adventure 

“your grandpa is my grandmas’ friend!” You cheer 

“can we be friends until we’re that old ? “Darcy asks 

 “Yes! and we can fight away the bullies together!”

“No more fighting!”  Peggy calls out as she over hears your happy shouts. Both of you loudly whine at the restriction

“good god - do they remind you of anyone?” Dugan asks her as they watch their two girls giggling in the rain as they begin play fighting against an imaginary enemy,” I don’t know if the world is ready for another Rogers and Barnes duo. Hell I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet .”

 Peggy grins as she watches you tumble alongside Darcy, her heartwarming at how the similarities between you Steven Rogers as you shield your friend from the pretend monster “It doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice.”

 They watch you lift a discarded frisbee, holding it as a shield in front of you & Darcy, Dugan’s laughter fills the park as he bends over slapping his knee at Peggy’s scrunched expression 

“good grief.” She mutters as she pinched the bridge of her nose 

“looks like you’re never escaping the power of that shield Peg.”

 She sighs “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

---

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