Watch your step!

Hey there, I’m Dug. Try not to trample over the dirt, alright? Oh, and don’t forget to watch out for potholes, they’re real common in my area.

[[Finally gained the courage to make an rp blog. I will put some information below the line!]]

  • 2+ Years of Role Play experience/ 5 Years of writing experience.
  • Multi-ship friendly.
  • OC friendly.
  • Friendly Mun.
  • No NSFW (Until further information is aquired.)
  • Active Sideblog
Michigan Gothic

There is only Faygo. No milk, no beer, no liquor has graced us in decades. There is only the artificial taste of Faygo. No one even likes it. You take a drink.

A small child tries to fold a paper airplane. He looks down and is upset to see a Ford truck, folded perfectly. It is an F-150. He tries to make an airplane again. This time he folds a Model T. He begins to cry.

“The water is clean!” Cries Flint mayor Dayne Walling. Brown water with sediment still flows from our taps. “The Flint River isn’t polluted anymore!” He insists nervously. Beads of sweat form on his brow. He clutches a bottle of Evian water in his sweaty hand.

The potholes move and grow at night, they consume cars and children alike. My father had to drive to Detroit last week. ‘Beware of the potholes,’ I warned him. I haven’t seen him since.

The sirens are tested every first Saturday of the month. You hear the sirens, but realize its only Friday. Its not the sirens, but children screaming instead.

The Detroit Red Wings never stop playing. There is a game every night. This has been going on for years and the players miss their families. Please let the Red Wings rest.

A body is pulled from the Flint River one hazy morning. The distant sound of Dayne Walling can be heard over the wind, “The water is clean!” He cries. The body resembles you.


The other night I called the boy
who use to love me and softened my nails
against my teeth until he said my name.
I’ll do things like that sometimes, just for
the thrill of it. Meanwhile, the current boy says,
‘don’t you have anything else in your wardrobe
besides black?’ Once he told me that I even
smell lonely. Cinnamon rubbed into my wrists,
salt sprinkled at my hairline; this is how I keep
my body mine. This city drags me by my hair,
rips potholes into my stomach. I watch the news
and choke on the list of the dead. I don’t count
the miles but I know the exact distance I am
from home. Sometimes I am jolted awake from
dreams about men who are disguised as wolves.
At seven, my idea of love was my mother singing
patiently to the pear tree in the backyard. Now
I beg for it like a dog at the dinner table nuzzling
your knee, drooling all over your best pair of shoes.
I only wear lipstick when I want my mouth
to be noticed. There is so much that I don’t want
to do anymore and I am running and running.
Sometimes I scale my own body looking for
a window just to see if the light is on.


anonymous asked:

Tsukki, Hanamiya, Imayoshi, Oikawa, Kisumi seated next to their crush in a really tight bus because of a field trip or something? Thanksssss.

I’m going to warn you that I don’t know Kisumi as well as the others, but I’ll give it my best shot!

TSUKISHIMA: It was hot, stifling, and worst of all, there was absolutely no air circulation. The only thing that didn’t absolutely suck was the fact that ______ was next to him. They looked pretty uncomfortable in the heat as well, so it wasn’t like he was the only one with a flushed face and a little sweat, right? The bus jolted as it went over a pothole in the road. 

“Oh, sorry!” You said, accidentally spilling into the blond’s lap. Tsukishima opted to not say anything as he helped you sit upright again. It wasn’t so bad if he could sit next to you, right? 

TRASH LORD HANAMIYA: The train was jam packed with all the office workers and high school students trying to catch the train in time, resulting in various body parts touching everyone on all sides. Hanamiya wasn’t thrilled. To be honest, the train was his most hated part of the commute to school. 

Today, however, you’d also happened to get in the same train car as the tall boy, and even better, you were just between him and the wall. As the train came to yet another stop, and swarms of people both entered and exited the train, he turned to you. “What a surprise to see you, ______.” 

TRASH SENPAI IMAYOSHI: The bus was especially unpleasant this time around. Normally the school prepared a large enough bus to fit everyone somewhat comfortably, but not this time. As a result, people were crammed together in usually very uncomfortable positions. You, however, were somewhat more fortunate.

Nobody honestly wanted to get too close to Imayoshi, especially knowing how he could be a little too clever. For you, his personality wasn’t much of a deterrent, although his height and smile combined could be intimidating. But hey, you had plenty of room next to him, and the window was actually cracked open. Now if only you could figure out why he kept smirking at you…

OIKAWA: Oikawa loved field trips. He loved them even more when your class joined his for the entirety of the event. This one topped all previous ones, however, because you happened to be sitting next to him. 

He asked you general questions, about your day, what you were excited to see, and oh, would you mind taking a selfie with him? As soon as the two of you were off the bus, the photo quickly became his home screen.

KISUMI: The pink-haired boy was excited for two main reasons: a trip around the nearby city, and the fact that you were there. What he hadn’t expected was the fact that you’d be pretty much squished into his side in order to accommodate additional students on the bus. “It’s a little hot, don’t you think?” He asked as the bus started up. 

“A bit.” You agreed, trying to wriggle free. 

“Ah, watch your elbow-” “I’m trying to!” “Sorry, sorry!” Eventually, the two of you managed to get enough room to feel a little more comfortable. 

“Ah, I’m Kisumi Shigino! Nice to meet you!” 

make you feel my love

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/1AJuhJ9

by MissLii

Liam’s sore all over, but his back is where it hurts the worst.

Luckily it was him who got hurt and not Louis. Liam would’ve hated to be the one who caused Louis any pain, except for a pinch here and there. It would have been this fault this time, since he was the one who tumbled them both over.

Also, Louis tends to be a bit cranky when he’s ill or injured, so that’s two things in the good collum. At least until he’s cuddled, and given no less than two cups of steaming tea. Then he reminds Liam of a hedgehog more than anything, sweet and soft inside but a bit prickly on the outside.

It still annoying that he gets these twinges in his back when he moves. Bloody painful too.

“Zayn,” Liam mumbles, curling close to Zayn’s side. The car hits a pothole, and Liam bites his lip to stop himself from outright whimpering. “Get me my bed, please.”

Zayn strokes his hand through Liam’s hair, humming softly. “Not long until we’re there, babe.”

Or: Zayn gives Liam a massage.

Words: 3729, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/1AJuhJ9
Sometimes a prolonged drizzle just isn’t enough. Sometimes you need a thunderstorm that shakes the ground, startles you, and lights up the sky in a new way. Sometimes you need a big push to make a change because you’re so stuck in a pothole and a drizzle is never going to wash you out of it. The hardest thing is learning to not be afraid of the thunderstorm and to allow yourself to stand right in the middle of it, despite being blinded by what’s behind the rain.

Artist Jim Bachor Fixes Chicago Potholes With Ice Cream Mosaics

Devouring a melty, delicious Good Humor bar on a stoop on a steamy July afternoon – does anything say “summer in the city” more perfectly?

With the hottest months fast approaching, mosaic artist Jim Bachor is bringing those frosty memories to streets in Chicago and Jyväskylä, Finland. In a series called “Treats in the Streets,” Bachor fills in potholes in city avenues not just with cement, but with bold, colorful mosaics of ice cream treats.

See more of his sweet treat artwork here.

what she says: im fine

what she means: what the fuck. what the fuck? what is this whole ‘’’darkness’’’’ bullshit. what the fuck happened to cas? i dont want to see no demon worms comin out of the ground. wheres cas? is he okay? im worried. do spn writers even know what they’re doing anymore? metatron is off with the demon tablet, rowena is off with the codex but wAIT thats not good enough. better bring in villainous potholes too!! and whats going to happen now that death is dead? like why would they end the season  like this. also what the fuck happened 2 cas

Pittsburgh Gothic
  • You’re waiting for the 61D. A 61A goes past. A 61A goes past. A 61A goes past. A 61A goes past. 
  • The closer you get to the Squirrel Hill tunnel, the slower everything moves. Cars. People. Particles. It’s cold. Oh god, you’re so cold. 
  • It was raining this morning, now it’s sunny outside. You check the thermometer, and it reads sixty. Better salt your sidewalk, gonna snow tonight.
  • You dropped a rock in that pothole on Brookline, and waited to hear it hit the bottom. You’re still waiting.
  • The sidewalk is getting steeper and steeper. Now there’s stairs. You climb and climb and climb. Look, a mountain goat. 
  • Your GPS tells you to take a sharp right to stay on Forbes. Your GPS tells you to take a slight left to stay on Forbes. Your GPS tells you to hit the man in the suit to stay on Forbes. Hit the man. Hit him. 
  • No one goes to Carlow University.
  • Bleeding? Buildings don’t bleed, don’t be silly. That’s just the steel rusting.
  • An orange sign just ahead of you reads “End Road Work.” You laugh, and see another sign. “Please. Please, I have children. End it.”
  • They built a bridge under the bridge to keep the bridge from falling on the other bridge under that bridge. The trolls are confused. Where can they live?
  • Someone said that if you fall in the Mon, when you climb out, your skin will peel off. Ridiculous. No one escapes the Mon. 
  • You’re trying to get home, but every single street is a one way that takes your further and further away. Where is home? What is home? 
  • They say the steel mills poisoned the air and killed the sky. Is that why it weeps? Whenever thunder roars, you swear you can hear a sob. 
  • A man is stabbed with a bottle in outside the bar, and ichor the color of tar drips from between his fingers, flecked with gleaming yellow. He bleeds black and gold. The gutters overflow with black and gold. Steelers going to the superbowl.
  • You woke up and found U P M C etched into your wrist. You went to UPMC physician, and he sent you to UPMC Shadyside. They checked you out and said it’s nothing serious. Good thing you have UPMC healthcare, could have been pricey otherwise. 
  • The guy at Phipps laughs when you ask him what they use for fertilizer and shows you big bins of mulch in the back. Pitt students keep disappearing. The bins are never empty for long. 
  • The treasure map reads “Turn left at the big church, then go straight till you see a PNC.” Thirty souls set out to find it, each took a different path. None returned. 

“An ancient mosaic looks exactly as intended by the artist who produced it over two millennia ago. What else can claim that kind of staying power? I find this idea simply amazing,” says street artist Jim Bachor. Bachor’s current series “Treats in the Streets” fills potholes in his home town of Chicago with playful mosaics of icecream and popsicles. Using the same materials as ancient craftsmen, they are made with thousands of colorful pieces of glass and marble set in mortar which protects each piece. The icecreams are part of an ongoing project where the artist takes pothole suggestions from his fans online, and then fills them with images of things like fish, candy, cereal, french fries, and words like “pothole.”

See more on Hi-Fructose.