That Guy With The Mouth!

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He gave the most dramatic sigh any person has ever been capable of and let go of her. “Fiiiiiine!! But you’ll owe me big time… ” he grumbled.

"And by owe you…you mean?" The brunette grabbed the laundry basket and poured a pile of dryer-warm clothes and towels into its basin. With that, she went with the clothes into the next over room and dumped its contents onto the couch.

" I don’t know, I haven’t decided yet. But, when I decide, I’ll let you know. You’ll be the second. After me, obviously." He stripped out of his bloody shirt to the suit, joining her to help do her stupid laundry.

"Hey!" Harley pouted, crossing her arms over her chest* Gimme back my hammer!"

thisiswhysupermanworksalone:

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He smirked, resting said hammer on his shoulder and raising an eyebrow. “How about if you’re a good girl for me? Maybe then you’ll get it back.”

"Alrighty, puddin’," she said, hopping over to her closet and rummaging around in it. "Ya want the black shirt with a periodic table on it, the plain red one, or the green one with dinosaurs on it?"

He walked up behing her, peering over her shoulder. “Um, mind if I ask why you have a shirt with the periodic table on it?” he asked, reaching around her to grab said black shirt and slip it on.

She raised a single eyebrow over her shoulder at him. “You telling me you don’t have one? Because sometimes a girl just needs ta know what the atomic number of Francium is.”

He mirrored her facial expression. “You mean you don’t know off the top of your head that the atomic number of Francium is 87? … Wait, how do I even know that?!”

[Science!!]

A grin spread across her face and she crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I don’t know that off the top of my head. But I do know how to write and balance reactions and how to calculate how much tranquilizer a person needs to be sedated just by lookin’ at them.”

"Okay, okay, that’s all still very impressive. You still trump my parlor tricks with actual knowledge. Good job being smart and stuff."

Harley grinned and patted his cheek. “Aww, come on, Wilson. Let’s go fling paint at each other.”

"Alright, Harley babe, lead the way."

Harley took his hand and led him to her garage, grabbing a couple water guns and balloons and pointing to a few gallons of paint she had always meant to use in her house. “Wanna grab those for me, darlin’?”

"Yep,not a problem." He grabbed them all, having no trouble at all carrying them all.

"Thanks. This is a backyard event. Let’s get this stuff around back and go to town." She wandered around to her backyard.

He followed her like the little lost puppy he had apparently become, carrying the armfuls of paint as if it were nothing.

She smiled slightly to herself and set the empty balloons and guns down, taking one of the gallons of paint she had always meant to use from him and prying it open. “Pink,” she grinned up at him. “I would pick pink.” Harley filled the water guns and a couple balloons, handing him a gun and stepping back.

"FOR THE MOTHER COUNTRY!" She shrieked, chucking one of the balloons at him and ducking behind a tree for cover.

Needless to say, he took the balloon of pink paint square in the center of his chest before seeking cover and peeking around it to try and get a shot at her. “FOR NARNIA!!! “

"FOR THE RIGHT TO PARTY!" She yelled, running at him wildly and shooting paint at him.

He just laughed and absolutely covered her in paint. ” WHAT SHE SAID!! “

She shrieked and leaped on his back, popping a balloon over his head. “GOTCHA!”

He wiped the paint from his face and slung it at her, making a run for bit to grab a couple paint balloons for himself.

She giggled and climbed a tree quickly, aiming at him again and shooting paint.

He tried to avoid her, ending up getting more paint on the tree than her with the balloons.

She laughed lightly and leapt down, tackling him to the ground. “I totally win!”

He just laid there panting for a minute, before busting his last paint balloon over her head. ” Truce?”

She shrieked and shook her paint-soaked hair at him. “You jerk!” She giggled, prodding his chest.

" No one ever said a damn thing about playing fair!" he laughed, leaning up to steal a kiss.

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" But laundry is boring!!! And, thank you, Captain obvious, that’s usually my job. Guess I gotta go file for unemployment, now. And fire my writer." He kept snuggling and nuzzling.

"Not if you watch Teen Wolf while doing it. Besides, it’ll get all wrinkly if I leave all the clothes in the dryer." she whined in the most pathetic way possible, trying to persuade him for his help. "And I’m sorry about your writer or whatever, but I had no idea you even had one."

He gave the most dramatic sigh any person has ever been capable of and let go of her. “Fiiiiiine!! But you’ll owe me big time… ” he grumbled.

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that-guy-with-the-mouth:

" Aw, that’s not fun," he said, suddenly behind her again, wrapping her in his big scarred arms, blood soaking through the back of her clothes. He nuzzled affectionately into her neck. "Shnookum-wookums… Don’t be mad, I’m bored as hell…. "

"Okay, well thanks….

" But laundry is boring!!! And, thank you, Captain obvious, that’s usually my job. Guess I gotta go file for unemployment, now. And fire my writer." He kept snuggling and nuzzling.

"Hey!" Harley pouted, crossing her arms over her chest* Gimme back my hammer!"

thisiswhysupermanworksalone:

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He smirked, resting said hammer on his shoulder and raising an eyebrow. “How about if you’re a good girl for me? Maybe then you’ll get it back.”

"Alrighty, puddin’," she said, hopping over to her closet and rummaging around in it. "Ya want the black shirt with a periodic table on it, the plain red one, or the green one with dinosaurs on it?"

He walked up behing her, peering over her shoulder. “Um, mind if I ask why you have a shirt with the periodic table on it?” he asked, reaching around her to grab said black shirt and slip it on.

She raised a single eyebrow over her shoulder at him. “You telling me you don’t have one? Because sometimes a girl just needs ta know what the atomic number of Francium is.”

He mirrored her facial expression. “You mean you don’t know off the top of your head that the atomic number of Francium is 87? … Wait, how do I even know that?!”

[Science!!]

A grin spread across her face and she crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I don’t know that off the top of my head. But I do know how to write and balance reactions and how to calculate how much tranquilizer a person needs to be sedated just by lookin’ at them.”

"Okay, okay, that’s all still very impressive. You still trump my parlor tricks with actual knowledge. Good job being smart and stuff."

Harley grinned and patted his cheek. “Aww, come on, Wilson. Let’s go fling paint at each other.”

"Alright, Harley babe, lead the way."

Harley took his hand and led him to her garage, grabbing a couple water guns and balloons and pointing to a few gallons of paint she had always meant to use in her house. “Wanna grab those for me, darlin’?”

"Yep,not a problem." He grabbed them all, having no trouble at all carrying them all.

"Thanks. This is a backyard event. Let’s get this stuff around back and go to town." She wandered around to her backyard.

He followed her like the little lost puppy he had apparently become, carrying the armfuls of paint as if it were nothing.

She smiled slightly to herself and set the empty balloons and guns down, taking one of the gallons of paint she had always meant to use from him and prying it open. “Pink,” she grinned up at him. “I would pick pink.” Harley filled the water guns and a couple balloons, handing him a gun and stepping back.

"FOR THE MOTHER COUNTRY!" She shrieked, chucking one of the balloons at him and ducking behind a tree for cover.

Needless to say, he took the balloon of pink paint square in the center of his chest before seeking cover and peeking around it to try and get a shot at her. “FOR NARNIA!!! “

"FOR THE RIGHT TO PARTY!" She yelled, running at him wildly and shooting paint at him.

He just laughed and absolutely covered her in paint. ” WHAT SHE SAID!! “

She shrieked and leaped on his back, popping a balloon over his head. “GOTCHA!”

He wiped the paint from his face and slung it at her, making a run for bit to grab a couple paint balloons for himself.

She giggled and climbed a tree quickly, aiming at him again and shooting paint.

He tried to avoid her, ending up getting more paint on the tree than her with the balloons.

She laughed lightly and leapt down, tackling him to the ground. “I totally win!”

He just laid there panting for a minute, before busting his last paint balloon over her head. ” Truce?”

Reblog if you DISLIKE Justin Bieber

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holy shit, the notes….

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This has more notes than the ‘Make Dean in gym shorts the most reblogged pic on tumblr’

1 million more than the last time this crossed my dash.

Over 9 million people dislike him. Wow.

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webxtastic:

that-guy-with-the-mouth:

"It’s not creepy, it’s fun," came a voice from behind her, though there would be nothing there when she turned around. He was very good at that, of course. Though, eventually, the trail of blood from his several still-healing gunshot wounds would give it away.

" Aw, that’s not fun," he said, suddenly behind her again, wrapping her in his big scarred arms, blood soaking through the back of her clothes. He nuzzled affectionately into her neck. "Shnookum-wookums… Don’t be mad, I’m bored as hell…. "

Hide-and-Seek || that-guy-with-the-mouth

webxtastic:

"Wade! I know you’re here!" Penny wandered around the small house in search of the masked mercenary. "There are little trails of blood by my window…its kind of obvious that it isn’t mine." She stopped to listen, but groaned when there was no reply. "You suck…I’ll be doing laundry when you decide not to play creepy hiding games."

"It’s not creepy, it’s fun," came a voice from behind her, though there would be nothing there when she turned around. He was very good at that, of course. Though, eventually, the trail of blood from his several still-healing gunshot wounds would give it away.

Reblog if you think it’s okay to be homosexual

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I need to prove a point to my homophobic friend.

I’m writing down the urls of everyone who reblogs this in a notebook, and will present it to my friend when it is sufficiently full.
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"Hey!" Harley pouted, crossing her arms over her chest* Gimme back my hammer!"

thisiswhysupermanworksalone:

that-guy-with-the-mouth:

thisiswhysupermanworksalone:

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thisiswhysupermanworksalone:

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that-guy-with-the-mouth:

He smirked, resting said hammer on his shoulder and raising an eyebrow. “How about if you’re a good girl for me? Maybe then you’ll get it back.”

"Alrighty, puddin’," she said, hopping over to her closet and rummaging around in it. "Ya want the black shirt with a periodic table on it, the plain red one, or the green one with dinosaurs on it?"

He walked up behing her, peering over her shoulder. “Um, mind if I ask why you have a shirt with the periodic table on it?” he asked, reaching around her to grab said black shirt and slip it on.

She raised a single eyebrow over her shoulder at him. “You telling me you don’t have one? Because sometimes a girl just needs ta know what the atomic number of Francium is.”

He mirrored her facial expression. “You mean you don’t know off the top of your head that the atomic number of Francium is 87? … Wait, how do I even know that?!”

[Science!!]

A grin spread across her face and she crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I don’t know that off the top of my head. But I do know how to write and balance reactions and how to calculate how much tranquilizer a person needs to be sedated just by lookin’ at them.”

"Okay, okay, that’s all still very impressive. You still trump my parlor tricks with actual knowledge. Good job being smart and stuff."

Harley grinned and patted his cheek. “Aww, come on, Wilson. Let’s go fling paint at each other.”

"Alright, Harley babe, lead the way."

Harley took his hand and led him to her garage, grabbing a couple water guns and balloons and pointing to a few gallons of paint she had always meant to use in her house. “Wanna grab those for me, darlin’?”

"Yep,not a problem." He grabbed them all, having no trouble at all carrying them all.

"Thanks. This is a backyard event. Let’s get this stuff around back and go to town." She wandered around to her backyard.

He followed her like the little lost puppy he had apparently become, carrying the armfuls of paint as if it were nothing.

She smiled slightly to herself and set the empty balloons and guns down, taking one of the gallons of paint she had always meant to use from him and prying it open. “Pink,” she grinned up at him. “I would pick pink.” Harley filled the water guns and a couple balloons, handing him a gun and stepping back.

"FOR THE MOTHER COUNTRY!" She shrieked, chucking one of the balloons at him and ducking behind a tree for cover.

Needless to say, he took the balloon of pink paint square in the center of his chest before seeking cover and peeking around it to try and get a shot at her. “FOR NARNIA!!! “

"FOR THE RIGHT TO PARTY!" She yelled, running at him wildly and shooting paint at him.

He just laughed and absolutely covered her in paint. ” WHAT SHE SAID!! “

She shrieked and leaped on his back, popping a balloon over his head. “GOTCHA!”

He wiped the paint from his face and slung it at her, making a run for bit to grab a couple paint balloons for himself.

She giggled and climbed a tree quickly, aiming at him again and shooting paint.

He tried to avoid her, ending up getting more paint on the tree than her with the balloons.