Suddenly.. BADGERS!

The Druid had just summoned eight giant badgers into a boss fight.

Me: Fear. The. Hufflepuffs!

DM: You know what, I’m not even gonna roll for this. They get average everything.

Two minutes later.
DM: Goddamnit [Druid], your badgers haven’t missed any of these.

All of us: *Start singing the badger song*

DM: [Druid], you are never allowed to take a turn again.

it is okay
if you take the
path that turns left
and i take the right one
because, i believe
that loving people
makes you strong.
strong enough to
tread the road
all by yourself.

Pedant’s Run, a game in which people take turns to reply to the previous player but must begin with “well technically,” and include at least one valid nitpick; the first person to be lost for words loses.

Ivan paces in his room. He’s been doing this for roughly an hour now, grumbling angrily in Russian, occasionally bursting out with some enraged exclamation. On the other side of the locked door, his sisters and the Baltics stand with their ears nervously pressed to the wood. Every shout, every slammed fist makes them flinch.

“S-so, what’s he mad about this time?” Toris asks, voice hushed in case his former boss decides then to acknowledge their eaves-dropping.

Eduard is blessedly calm in his response: “I think it was something Alfred did.”

“The idiot used big brother’s vodka stash as fuel for a fire.“ Natalia, meanwhile, looks downright murderous. “He wanted to put big brother on a quitting plan, despite big brother’s wishes.”

“Shhhh, I think something's happening!” Yekaterina says none-too-quietly.

Indeed, something is happening. Ivan, still taking deep breaths, turns on his phone and opens it to contacts. A dark aura around him, he presses the call button of one particular contact.

The phone rings.


Ivan smiles innocently. "Hello, Alfred.“

"Oh, hey, what’s up?” The American perks up.

“Not much.” His eyes slip closed in content. “Just looking through old knick-knacks. It's funny how many special objects get left in some forgotten box in some forgotten room.”

Alfred laughs awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, I guess I see what you mean? Like, why keep something if it’s just going to sit there and collect dust?”

“I’m very glad you agree with me.” Ivan raises a hand, a lit match delicately held between pointer finger and thumb. Before him is a pile of every last object of Alfred’s that had been left at Ivan’s house, whether mistakenly or purposefully.

“Out with the old and in with the new-”

“Whoah, whoah, can you hold on a minute? I’m killing zombies.”

“… What?”

Alfred scowls, speaking into his headset, “Kiku, I thought you said you were covering me?”

“I am. There are too many.”

“Well, make them stop existing!”

A sigh, “Alfred-kun, I’m trying.”

“Well, try harder!”

“Alfred?” Ivan’s eye twitches.

“Yeah, just give me a few. Kiku! I said to cover me! Don’t shoot me!”

Soft laughter from Kiku’s end.

“… You’re doing this intentionally, aren’t you?” Alfred groans, “Kiku, dude, my main man, quit it.

Seeing an opening, Ivan cuts in, “You mean like how you’re making me quit vodka?”

“You’re still pissed about that? Sheesh, talk about relentless.”

The dark aura grows.

Alfred lowers his controller, expression deadpanned. “Relationships need to be balanced. I gave up McDonalds, so you have to give up vodka. Deal with it.”



“It took me months to put together that stash!”


“Alfred, I will burn everything you love!”

“What, so you’re going to set yourself on fire?”

Ivan pauses.

Kiku’s heard muttering a “Lol, wut?”

“… Can you repeat that?”

Red-faced, Alfred swallows before starting, “I, um, I said, ‘what, so you’re going to-’”

Ivan throws the phone out the window.

Natalia slams the lock-picked door open. “BIG BROTHER, DID HE JUST-?”

*Submission by the lovely @kittyreaper

The Author

A/N This is my attempt to set up a coherent posting schedule. I’ll try to keep a chapter posted every two weeks or so, we’ll see how it goes. 

Another important thing! This will be the fifth and final stand alone for this series. Everything afterward is gonna be in a continuous fic, with characters taking turns narrating. (Guess who’s next. Literally the only character whose POV I’ve been saving). 

Au by @doodledrawsthings, based on Flat Dreams by @pengychan.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Stanford couldn’t sleep. There had been worries before that this would happen: that Bill would somehow come back from the dead, throw another world-ending party, break reality as they knew it, and all because Stanford had let his guard down, to clueless to realize what was happening right under his nose. There were times where he woke up and saw his brother sporting those chilling, yellow eyes, the insane smile, the unnerving laugh, only to realize it was simply the aftereffects of the nightmare.

Stanford was by no means a superstitious man, but Bill Cipher was not superstition, he was fact. And as long as there was even a possibility of that monster coming back, Ford would keep his guard up, ready for the illusion of peace to be shattered.

And it happened, just like Ford had predicted. But not in the way he had thought.The scientist was expecting raining fire, cracks in the sky, demons raising hell on earth, and all other kinds of disturbing, over the top dramatics when it came to Bill Cipher. This was not what he got.

Having something to defeat was understandable, was clear and predictable and something he knew how to address. But here there was nothing left to defeat. Bill Cipher was crushed, downed, helpless and powerless. And Ford did not know what to do with an enemy like that.

So for once he stepped back and let his family decide. And apparently, the family decided to keep him.

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Today in class we had to play a game where we were split into teams and were told to pick a certain number of celebrities that most of the class would know and then the rest of the teams would have to take turns asking 3 questions to try and guess our person.

The point of the game was that you had to use really specific questions otherwise you could answer vaguely and you wouldn’t get the right person.

So anyway

Our team had Tom Felton on our list

and we got to the point where EVERYONE else in the classroom knew that we were talking about the actor who played Draco Malfoy in Harry Potter, but NO ONE knew Tom’s name.

Me, the teacher, and my teammate were all flabbergasted that no one knew his name. But we agreed that it said something that everyone could picture him, but didn’t know his name. 

anonymous asked:

We're totally used to it, wouldn't be your blog without some totally random stuff happening at some point every week. Need I remind you of the discourse about the existence of aliens a few weeks back?

Okay, so it might be the mojitos (it’s probably like 60% the mojitos) but you don’t understand how hard I’m laughing right now. Like I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that my blog has become that place that’s now like “wow, wonder what content is going to show up this week. I definitely followed for clexa fanart but somehow we’re now knee deep in chamomile tea discourse??”

But you can blame @entirelytookeen for this one. If KL just accepted chamomile into her life none of this would have happened.

#thankyoubones week: day 12 - 1 bones cast final thank you

Wow, what can I say that could possibly give you an idea of how much this cast means to me?

Bones changed me. It taught me so much about life, love and friendship. About moving forward, about taking risks, about not living your life with regrets. It taught me there’s nothing wrong with taking a step back if you need perspective. That you can change your mind about stuff you swore you would never do, and still be yourself. That life takes many turns and sometimes the only thing you can do is sit back and enjoy the ride.

If it hadn’t been for the amazing cast, I doubt I would have loved Bones as much as I do. Because they portrayed these characters in a way that I was able to connect with them, even though they aren’t “real”. Why quotation marks? Well, because they are real in my mind, and in the minds of those who have loved Bones for years. Only great actos manage to give you characters that stay with you forever, long after the movie/show is over.

And I know Temperance Brennan, Seeley Booth, Angela Montenegro, Jack Hodgins, and Camile Saroyan will stay with me forever.

Emily, David, Michaela, TJ, and Tamara, thanks for everything.

I will miss you, guys.

A trip with daddy

Okay, so with all the Bra art/literature going around and no fresh ideas in mind, I thought I might share this cute little Vegeta/Bra-fic, I wrote last year hehehe. Enjoy! 😁

Summary: Left alone to babysit Bra, Vegeta takes a trip to the convenience store with his little girl, but things take an unexpected turn, when a mugger enters the scene and threatens the store owner, at gunpoint.

A trip with daddy:

“Dammit Vegeta, quit wasting my time, I’m gonna be late for this press conference!” Bulma seethed, pulling up a stocking.

“That is no concern of mine, woman!” The Prince growled. “I never agreed to this!”

“Yeah, well tough luck!” She fired back. “Mom and dad suddenly decided to take a vacation and Trunks planned this camping trip with Goten for the last three weeks, so I couldn’t ask him, alright?!”

“Well too bad, I refuse to go anywhere near that grubby little creature!”

“That’s our daughter you’re talking about, you ass, not some creature!” The heiress walked up to him, glaring right in his face, her sapphire eyes blazing as ever. Ever since Bra’s birth around two-and-a-half years ago, Vegeta had been neglecting his fatherly responsibilities to the poor child and Bulma refused to have it any longer. “Seriously, spend some time with her! Get to know her better! You might actually enjoy it!”

“Pah!” He spat.

“Don’t be such a namby-pamby!”

“Damn you woman!” He grimaced. “You’re insufferable!”

“So er- is that a yes?” Bulma asked hopefully.

“Fine, fine whatever, now get lost!”

“Oh, thank you Vegeta.” She cheered, her anger ebbing away quickly, as she abruptly crushed him into a tight embrace.

The heat rose to Vegeta’s reddened cheeks and he was instantly hard, due to her lack of garments.

“Let go of me!” He demanded, trying but failing to tug her away. At last, however, Bulma shifted back and pecked his lips before putting on a formal black business skirt and a white buttoned shirt, beneath a full-sleeve, indigo overcoat that flowed to her knees and matching stiletto pumps, to go with everything. As she was doing so, she gabbled on about Bra’s favourite meals, kids’ programs, board games and whatnot, while Vegeta tuned her out.

Gone at last, the Prince turned towards the tiny, sleeping form of the little bundle within the crib, her hair just as blue as those of her insane mother’s, with a big tuft on top that spilled out in every direction, like the branches of a palm tree. Bulma dressed her in a strange set of powder pink, buttoned, bloomer overalls when taking her to the park this morning and since she’d fallen asleep on the way back, the heiress had put her right in the crib, without bothering to change her into her sleeping pajamas. The outfit covered her torso, as well as her arms and legs up to the points just below the elbows and knees, respectively.

“What a peculiar thing you are.” Vegeta mumbled, hesitantly reaching a hand out to her. Gods, was she small or what? Although he was more attentive to her than he’d been during Trunks’ infancy, he found her too much of a mess to be around, frequently playing with worms in the dirt and eating like a caveman, with morsels of food flying in every direction. It was outright disgusting. She’d likely consumed more in the last year, than the average human adult would, in ten years. Funny, how it never really affected her. She was still a pint-sized little twerp, perks of her Saiyan DNA. He smirked at the thought, gently placing a hand on her rising and falling belly. Bra began to stir and her big, cerulean eyes, slowly fluttered open.

“Daddy?” She mouthed groggily, yawning thereafter.

‘Shit!’ Vegeta cursed inwardly. Dammit, he should’ve left her as she was! Now, he’d have to deal with this crazy half-Saiyan toddler, all by himself and he was not looking forward to it!

“Daddy!” Bra exclaimed happily, placing her tiny hands atop his. The move sprung a strange feeling within the pits of Vegeta’s stomach.

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Much to Holster chagrin, Dex hates karaoke. Refuses to do it. The entire team takes a turn belting to songs; Bitty sings /I Need a Hero/, Nursey has the entire team rolling at a spoken word version of /It’s not Unusual/ and even Whisky jumps in on a duet with Tango of /Livin La Vida Loca/, but Dex determinedly won’t budge. Unfortunately, he’s on a team of many 200lb men. They eventually get him on the platform with the mic. A gripe of “I’m not fucking singing guys” is interrupted with the soft opening notes of /Stairway to Heaven/. Dex’s head whips around to Nursey, but he’s only greeted with a wink and a chirp. “Dude I KNOW you. All I had to do was think of the shittiest stereotypical dad rock song ever.” Dex is about to chirp back….but the vocal entrance is coming up….and he can’t NOT do it. This song is too good to flub the entrance.

“And she’s buuuyyinng a staaairrway….to… HEAVEN.”
The team is silent, and Dex blushes.
“I told you guys I sucked”
At least that’s what he would have said. Dex only got through the first 4 words before the entire team was screaming and tackling him on stage.
Chowder and Holster are crying, and Bitty is just clutching his chest.
Everything is loud, but Dex is beaming through his blush. Nursey gets in his ear, “Dad rock still sucks.” Dex shoves his shoulder, but doesn’t stop smiling. Everyone is still around him, lively and dancing together in their elation.
Dex hates karaoke, but he loves his team.

chronolockcd  asked:

100: who was the last person that you pinky promise?

Questions time

I’ve never actually made a pinky promise with anyone. Ever. I can’t really think of why, it just was never something I did. Partially because I rarely had friends growing up and I still have hardly any friends in close proximity to me now, haha.

But yeah, no, the closest I ever got to that was a blood pact. Me, my brother, and his friend started a ‘brotherhood’ and said we needed to take an oath in blood. Something about never divulging secrets to the enemy. We were dramatic little brats. 

They pretended to cut themselves because they weren’t actually going to use blood, they were just using juice from smashed raspberries.

When it came for my turn to take the oath, I found a shard of glass - tiny, it was smaller than the nail on my pinky - and casually slashed it across my palm. Which started bleeding pretty badly. 

My brother and his friend freaked out and ran to tell Mum. As far as I know, the bloodstained handprint I left on the basement floor where we wrote up the oath is still there.

I was not known for my impulse control. I’m still not.


The Black Tower by John Smith, 1987.

“I panicked and started running. When I got to the end of the street, the tower was there waiting for me. I turned the corner, saw it again. I kept running, taking different turns, but whenever I looked up, I saw the tower. Whichever way I ran it was always in front of me. I got home and collapsed onto the bed, but when I closed my eyes, I saw the black walls of the tower staring back at me. They got darker and darker…”

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