big run on sentence

roommate headcanons (part 2)

post-series au thing in which all the key kids live happily ever after together, bc why not :)

- Sora has a terrible habit of leaving the bathroom door unlocked/slightly ajar when he’s in there. He doesn’t want to be walked in or anything, he just… forgets a lot of the time. Ventus, on the other hand, has a terrible habit of waltzing into places unannounced. Needless to say, this has led to several unfortunate encounters between the two. 

– Bathroom door swings open. Both, simultaneously:

  • Sora: *screeching & flailing* W-WHOA, HEY, I-I’M IN HERE–
  • Ven: *recoiling violently* DUDE! What the– ?! 

– Ven backpedals rapidly, slams the door shut. A long, uncomfortable silence ensues. Then:

  • Sora: *rattled, to the point of embarrassed indignation* You ever hear of knocking? Sheesh.
  • Ven: *sputtering & equally affronted* …Yeah? How ‘bout next time you try locking the damn door?

- Namine, Roxas, Xion & Ven pulling random all-nighters together… Baking cookies, building pillow forts, watching scary movies, eating ice cream, talking and laughing about all sorts of things. They try to be quiet, so as not to wake the rest of the house up, but their efforts aren’t always 100% successful. o.o

- Sora joins them sometimes (when he’s not passed out on the couch already or bunked up with Riku & Kairi). Lea just shakes his head when he half-sleepwalks past them on his way to the bathroom, muttering something incoherent about ‘crazy kids’ and needing to get his beauty sleep.

- Aqua is totally the house mom, regularly checking to make sure everyone is home and safe at night (unless she’s been notified otherwise), that the doors are locked, stove is turned off, etc. Terra does this, too, if only to relieve Aqua from time to time.

- Dance Offs –> Almost always come down to a threeway battle between Aqua, Ven, and Kairi. Aqua kills it figure skater style, Ven’s a breakdancing machine, and Kairi can twerk swag it like nobody’s business. Riku’s actually a really good dancer, too, when he’s in the (rare) mood for it. Every once in a blue moon he’ll bust out some crazy moves that shock everyone and turn the competition in his favor. 

- Lea scores points for who-can-look-the-most-ridiculous, although Sora isn’t far behind. Namine doesn’t participate so much as end up giggling the entire time. Also, she’s the only one to consistently try & vote for EVERYONE; she just feels too guilty not to.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

- Xion spoils their pets so bad. Seriously (even worse than Terra, tbh). She’ll sneak them copious amounts of scraps under the table, rub bellies for an indefinite length of time, let them all cuddle up on the couch/in bed with her, and give them Lea’s socks to use as chew toys. …Okay, the sock thing was one time, to be fair. And they had holes in them.

 - Roxas & Ven have a(n unspoken?) twinning competition going on. Ven’s actually a little bit taller, to Roxas’s ultimate chagrin. Ven loooooves to rib him about this by resting his elbow on Roxas’s shoulder, reaching things that Roxas juuust misses, telling Roxas he better eat his veggies if he wants to catch up!, making short people jokes, and so on. Sora, who’s the same height as Ven is, gets in on the ribbing too a lot of the time. Poor Roxas.

- Both Terra and Sora love food, but neither are particularly skilled/motivated in the cooking arena. Hence, they’ll eat anything and everything readily available. (Terra has a bit more self control, and won’t really go for the super sugary/processed stuff, but still.) So, if you’re saving that leftover slice of pizza for later, you’d better explicitly mark it with a ‘do not eat OR ELSE’ note, complete with a signature and doodled angry face. Otherwise, chances are it’ll be gone by the time you get to it, courtesy of one of the aforementioned parties. Anything unclaimed is fair game! 

- Aqua is the only one who can truly be classified as a neat freak. The others will tease her about it, especially Terra (but it’s good-natured teasing, of course). Xion & Riku come pretty close to her level, but they’re not nearly as vigilant. Riku in particular though can’t stand clutter and keeps his room limited to the bare necessities. 

- Roxas & Namine are, overall, pretty good about not making a mess/picking up after themselves. Kairi can be very organized when she wants to be (which… isn’t necessarily all that often). At the very least, she knows where most of her belongings are at any given moment. 

- Terra is borderline messy, and tends to be oblivious easygoing about things like laundry heaps and dirty dishes– Until it reaches a point of near-disaster (or Aqua walks into his room and gets that look of barely-concealed-horror on her face, and… You really don’t want to be the subject of that look; believe him). 

- Lea, if he’s being honest, in no way, shape, or form enjoys cleaning. And so, he chooses to not partake in that activity unless forced to it’s absolutely necessary. Ven is the same way, but takes it a step further by falling into the looks-like-a-tornado-ripped-through-here category. 

- And Sora, well… Sora is the tornado. Also (not so?) lovingly referred to by his roommates as The Disaster on Legs. <3

-

part 1

anonymous asked:

What is your opinion on casting spells or doing rituals while skyclad? Morgana doesn't stick around for that, does he? 8D

“i’m…glad none of the rituals i do require skyclad states, but. yes, morgana would not stick around for that - neither would i be outside, as much as it would risk the outcome; it’s better than getting charged for public indecency.”

anonymous asked:

modern blupjeans: how would they meet and how long would it take for one of the losers to confess to the other and what would their first date be

i’m gonna assume this is one of those fancy modern aus that have magic and shit lol uhhhh

they’d probably meet in a similar way 2 how i assume they met in taz which is through something like the ipre. like lmao maybe they’re assigned as lab partners and they work rlly well together even tho barry’s a bit awkward at first but he starts 2 relax around lup and they just start 2 have a rlly good time together!!!!

and like they’ve been working together for a couple months now and so i’m sure barry’s met taako at some point and taako can See What’s Up so he probably just pulls barry aside like “lmao ask her out” and so he does and he’s a blushing mess but lup loves it so they eventually make it to the chug n squeeze bc taako recommended it and they just have a rlly great time!

When you’re stanning Natalie but you have no idea how to feel about her winning HOH because you were really down for a Paul/James/Victor/Nat final 4 but then you realized if Nat is sitting next to Paul or Vic at Final 2 she wont win but then you know if she takes a shot at them they are good at comps and could put her up the following weeks but then you hate the mayo couple Nicorey and want them out of your sight but then you know that Natalie has a much better chance of winning against either of them but then you know that there is still a great chance Porcelain Croutons could win the jury buyback and the disgusting mayo triplets could win back the power in the house AND YOU JUST DONT KNOW WHAT TO THINK AND THE POSSIBILITIES ARE OVERWHELMING.

Originally posted by trashforbb18

disregarding the surrounding issues of guilt concerning the timeframe post-og, i think maybe one of the reasons why cloud struggles w loneliness (&subsequently romanticizes past friendships w zack, aerith) is bc he’s often lauded for the Great things he can do (killing sephiroth, cleaving a monster in half etc) & expected to continue to do them while simultaneously suffering from minute limitations (thinking straight, connecting w others; most admittedly being hiccups in maturity&proper brain development etc) that are not acknowledged in a positive or comforting manner (“you think you’ve got it so damn hard!” etc, #thankstifa) so there’s a lot of self isolation going on & feelings of helpless vulnerability he can’t share (“dilly dally shilly shally” #thankstifa) that then leads to pushing those vulnerabilities to the very back of awareness bc the expected is what’s wanted and nothing else, and unconditional acceptance is out of reach

archiveofourown.org
Something More - bigboobedcanuck - Teen Wolf (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

“Hey, what’s wrong? You’re all…” He waves his hand around. “Worked up. Your heart’s pounding.”

“Um, yeah. There’s something I have to tell you.” The cookies crumble in Stiles’s hand as he tries to summon the words he’s rehearsed. “So there’s that alpha pack in town and—”

“Why do you smell like…” Scott’s nose wrinkles. “Derek?”

“Oh, right. Make that two things I have to tell you. Why don’t you…” He waves at the bed, and Scott sits down, brow furrowed.

After a minute of babbling the story out using a lot of hand gestures, Stiles stops and takes a breath. It was pretty much one big run-on sentence starting with the attack and ending with the fact that he’s kinda dating Derek, but he did it. He said it all out loud.

Studying- Peter Maximoff x Reader

Request: Can you do a fluff with Peter Maximoff/ reader they are in a relationship and reader very creative? And Peter try to help with reading (study for Charles science class) but realize reader can read, just likes to hear his voice and watch him get bored out of his mind.

A/N: In this original request, the reader was dyslexic, however I decided to take that part out only because I don’t want to offend anyone who is dyslexic in the case I don’t properly represent it. Thank you so much for understanding! XXx

Originally posted by 7dragonslayers

“Thanks Peter, for the help I mean.” You brushed your hair behind your ears while setting your notebooks down on the library table. 

“No problem,” he smiled, finishing off his Twinkie and pulling out a chair to take a seat. You sat next to him crossing your ankles under the table. “I aced Charles’s science class last year so it should be no problem for you after these incredible tutoring sessions.” He gave you a smirk. “You brought the cash right?” He arched an eyebrow.

“What, I thought this was free I don’t have anything-” 

“I’m kidding,” Peter laughed nonchalantly, cutting off your rambling. “You think I would charge my girlfriend to help her suck less at the one class I’m great at?” He smirked again and you punched him in the arm.

“Knowing you, probably.” You laughed leaning away from him as he reached to pull you against him.

“But you’re still gonna help me with my art projects right?” He gave you puppy dog eyes. Art was your niche, you loved being able to expression your self however you wanted and it also happened to be Peter’s weaker point. He finally was able to grab your arm and tugged you into him, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your forehead. 

“Who’s ready to get their study on?” He said, letting you go and flipping through your notebook. You laughed at him. “What?” He said defensively.

“Those just aren’t words I pictured coming out of your mouth.” He shrugged with a relaxed look and a small smile. He returned his attention to your notes scanning them quickly. You rested you chin on your palm and watched him happily. The best part about being with Peter during these sessions was listening to his thoughts, mostly because they were hilarious, but also the things him came up with were too great not to hear.

You promised him you didn’t, read his mind and all, but being a telepath, it was hard to resist. You also loved to see how easily bored he got, his mind was literally going a mile a minuet constantly and everyone else was almost always too slow. You had to credit him for his patience though, although he did get annoyed sometimes, for the most part he kept his calm and confident persona, which was pretty incredible. 

How many Twinkies do I have left? I might have to go to the store tonight. Elements, compounds…you know I could really give Usain Bolt a run for his money. Periodic Table, ugh, we’re gonna be here for a while, this is a shit ton of content. At least I’m with (Y/N), studying with Kurt, now that was a long night. Maybe she could come with me to see Twinkies. Sweet dreams are made of this…

He hummed along to the song as he continued reviewing your writing. You smiled to your self and took a break from listening to his thoughts because honestly they were exhausting, constantly going, like one big run on sentence.

“What?” Peter glanced up at you. He’d caught your smile.

“Nothing.” You blushed looking down.

“(Y/N),” Peter groaned, tilting back his head, “now you have to tell me.” 

“It was nothing.” You said picking up a pencil, pretending to return to your work.

“(Y/N),” Peter took your pencil from his hand waiting expectantly for you to explain. 

“Fine.” You groaned covering your face with your hands. “I may of accidentally read your thoughts.” You peeked at him through your fingers. He had a grin on his face.

“Accidentally?” He smirked.

“Okay purposefully,” you confessed.

“Were they interesting?” He laughed.

“Are you kidding?” You put on a baffled expression, “your head is like a total train wreck.” You said jokingly.

“Oh now you’re gonna get it.” Peter laughed, grabbing you and enveloping you into a giant bear hug. Your cheek was pressed into his leather jacket, and you were still laughing.

“To much, to much, I surrender.” You grinned. Peter pulled you back, holding you by the shoulders in front of him. 

“Stay out of my head (Y/N).” He pretended to look stern. “It’s creepy.”

“Hey.” You smacked him, “at least I’m not related to the road runner?”

“What would be so bad about that, honestly?” Peter shrugged. You couldn’t win with him, so you just laughed. At this rate, you’d be studying forever.

Let me tell y'all about the time My Mama caught my lil'brother watching porn...

…I had been waiting on my mama to leave all damn day so I could hop on the phone. I had a lil’ shawty that I talked to that stayed across town named Jasmine. She knew what time my mama would leave so she would call around that time to avoid her. My mama left a little late that day so she intercepted my call like a free safety. Jasmine calls. I answered on the first ring. A nigga was half a ring too late. Shawty was like “didn’t I tell you to be by the phone when I call?” Bruh. My mama said “uh uhn lil bitch who the fuck you think you are talking to my muh'fuckin son like you the one that carried him for 9 months and pushed his big head ass out!” I thought it wasn’t gone end. That run on sentence was in marathon mode. So my lil’ brother dying laughing and picking at me. His black ass almost caught this bleach. Was about to get faded on the spot. As soon as my mama left I hopped on the phone. Until about 430am on the couch in the living room. I hear mama pull up so I hang up and wrap the cord up and hang the phone back on the wall (don’t judge my life). My brother was in my mama room with the door locked. I instantly knew this nigga was in there in her boyfriend’s porn stash. But shit, it was too late to save him. That nigga was on his own. I ran back to the couch and pulled the cover to my eyes and played sleep. I think I said a prayer that she don’t kill him and if she do then can I push the beds together in the room. So she walk to her room door and turn the handle. Shit don’t budge. She look around the corner at me on the couch then walk around the corner to our room and turn the light on. When she flipped that hallway light on I knew it was over. She banged on her door talking bout “Brandon brang yo ass here right fucking now!” I was like ooooooohhhhh shit! 👀 This nigga bout to DIE. He open the door 17 seconds later walking like he just got punched in the stomach. Mama was like “the fuck you doing in my room with the door locked?!” This dummy said nothing, I was looking for tissue. 😩😖. She saw that he ain’t push the box back under the bed. Y'all know how petty black moms are. She knew what was going on but wanted to make sure he knew the shit wouldn’t happen again. She told him to stand up straight. He said why. She said “you been in my room watching that damn porn. If you wasn’t then stand up straight.” Nigga I would’ve walked hunched over until I moved out. He stood up and I saw her arm raise and pull back into punching position. Nigga. She pulled her arm back so fast and far you could hear air moving. Shit sounded like nunchucks in a Bruce Lee movie. She hit him in the chest with the strength of all her ancestors. She punched him so hard I wanted to get up and wash dishes. Right after she punched him she said “nigga you lying cause ya dick still hard. Get yo ass up off my floor and take yo jacking ass to bed!” I think the slide marks still on the carpet from where he slid when she punched him…

Tbh this is like a long time coming but I, uhhhhhh, need to let it be known that while I 100% agree with call out posts and getting disgusting people out of the RPC, for my mental health which has already been spiraling out of control (if you’ve paid attention to my blog you will know that its been a long time coming) I’m gonna start unfollowing people. ( that was one big fucking run on sentence . ) essentially we’ll still be mutuals just not technically, I need to get away from the constant, constant, constant call out posts. Its becoming overwhelming and I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve pondered willingly relapsing just to deal with them.

This isn’t aimed at anyone, this is just a psa that excessive posting about callouts will have me unfollowing you. I want my blog to go back to being my safe space, and only ever seeing callout post after callout post is stressing me the fuck out guys. I love y'all, but it is.

Update

Tbh college is hard, I really try to be okay with the fact I’m far from home but it’s getting hard I feel like it’s really hard to find friends who really are there for you and I don’t know it’s like my own little world and I hate that this is just one big run on sentence but im in my feels rn in my dorm that’s not 90 degrees n I get really depress with the change of weather, if you don’t know it’s a thing when people genuinely get depresssed in certain weathers idk

SRRY

Goodnight

On a hot day in late August, Lin-Manuel Miranda sits in a lecture theatre at Columbia University in uptown Manhattan, fizzing with the kind of energy that only comes, one imagines, from the experience of creating a billion-dollar Broadway show. Two weeks earlier, Miranda took his last bow before leaving the cast of Hamilton, the rap musical he wrote and starred in and for which the word “hit” seems, at this point, inadequate.


Since its opening last year, not only has Hamilton sold $1bn worth of tickets, won a Pulitzer and 11 Tonys and become the most successful Broadway opening of all time, but Miranda has been credited with everything from reinventing musical theatre to revolutionising the way Americans think about their own history. He has rapped with Barack Obama in the Rose Garden, been quoted by Hillary Clinton in her speech accepting the Democratic nomination for president, and seen his beard and ponytail combo become almost iconic. Such is the pitch of his fame that it is hard, today, not to encounter the 36-year-old, who is slight and boyish and unexpectedly clean shaven, and not simply burst into laughter. What does one do after a year like Miranda’s, I ask. He grins widely. “You cut your hair off,” he says.


[…]


This is only his second Broadway show – the first, In the Heights, has just been extended in London – and Miranda is still reminded daily of the fact that, 10 years ago, he was a supply teacher. In spite of the fact that his estimated royalties from the show total a mind-boggling $105,000 a week, he still flies commercial – “I don’t care about private jets” – and lives a stone’s throw from his old neighbourhood in Upper Manhattan; the reason we meet at Columbia is that it is around the corner from the apartment Miranda shares with his wife Vanessa and their 18-month-old son Sebastian, who was born two weeks before rehearsals for Hamilton started. (It strikes me that, were Miranda a woman, much more would have been made of this timing – the difficulty of having to be on stage every night with an infant at home. As it is, he says, it all worked out fine because, in spite of being “a very sleepless two years, my wife is a superhero. That’s the answer.”)


Clearly, Miranda works hard to keep himself grounded and surviving the experience has, he says, been a question of “staying on top of the emotions”. Nonetheless, so feverish has the acclaim for Hamilton been, I wonder if, as the frenzy around it grew, he ever thought; “God, what have I done?”


He shout-laughs. “What have I done?! I have to give enormous credit to [the director] Tommy Kail, who’s great at keeping the temperature low inside the theatre, especially when we moved to Broadway and the yell became a roar. That never came into the studio where we were working.” Instead, he says, they carried on with business as usual, telling themselves: “We’re making our thing better and still have 10 things a day to fix.”


One of the current questions surrounding Hamilton, as preparations are made for it to be rolled out, Phantom of the Opera-style, across the world, is how hard it will be for foreign audiences to love a show that rests, in large part, on knowledge of, and interest in, the American origin story. The life of Alexander Hamilton is a great tale, but the show’s real resonance comes from its interrogation of the American national character.


“I think that if we’ve done our job well and we articulate this individual’s life well, the themes inherent in that translate,” says Miranda. “It’s about legacy, about how much do we do with the time we’re given? And then there are themes that wrestle with the American character, but only in that Hamilton’s life is a rough-draft version of the arguments we still have as a country.” These too, he hopes, will travel. He tells the story of what happened when Fiddler on the Roof made its Japanese debut, after which a theatre-goer approached the producers and said: “They like it in America? But it’s so Japanese!”


Miranda sees the arguments started by the founding fathers as analogous to his fights with his sister. “The arguments a country has are its family arguments. I fight with my sister and it’s a version of the fight we had when she was 16 and I was 10. I think that’s true of both countries and families. We’ll always argue about the size of government in our lives and the role we play in the affairs of other countries.”


That these dry-sounding debates should animate such an electric show is, of course, a reflection of the scale of Miranda’s talent and his success in answering the challenge set up in the opening line, rapped by Aaron Burr, nemesis to Hamilton and foil to his character: “How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore / And a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot / In the Caribbean by Providence, impoverished, in squalor / Grow up to be a hero and a scholar?”


Miranda says: “I think I threw the ball very high in the air with the opening line of the show. This big-ass run-on sentence, and we are going to purport to try to answer it. How does he get from here, to here?” In the first version of Hamilton, which was written for the Public Theater, off-Broadway, Miranda combined song and speech in a much more conventional-looking show. It didn’t work, “because the songs – especially our opening number – is really heightened speech, with melody in it. So when we went to regular speech, you could feel the audience pull out.” At some point, Miranda realised he was going to have to dispense with a script and simply “musicalise every second” of the show, a huge undertaking and one that saw him wandering around his neighbourhood muttering to himself every day, as he tried to fit lyrics to music.


He had never wanted to be a solo rap star, he says. “My ego is healthy, but it doesn’t extend in that direction.” Instead, from school age onwards, he had only ever wanted to be involved in the theatre. His parents had moved to New York from Puerto Rico before Miranda was born and landed in Upper Manhattan, where his mother was a psychologist and his father a political adviser to, among others, former New York mayor Ed Koch.


Miranda grew up in a household rich in intellect but not particularly wealthy and he was aware, at college, that sacrifices were being made in order to educate him. As a result, he was highly motivated and started writing In the Heights, a show about his Washington Heights neighbourhood, before he graduated, slogging away at it for the next six years while working as a supply teacher to pay the rent, until, in what he still regards as a miracle, it came to Broadway. Overnight, “I went from being a professional substitute teacher to a Broadway composer.” It was, he says, an even more “drastic life change” than the one brought about by the success of Hamilton.


In the Heights was a hit, winning four Tony awards, but the one disappointment was that it didn’t bring Miranda the interest or admiration of his heroes in the rap community. As an adolescent, did the part of him that loved hip-hop disparage the part that loved Broadway musicals? No, he says. “There are a few people who only like hip-hop music, and a few who only like theatre music, and the rest of us just like good shit. It doesn’t matter what form it comes in. I think we’re all a lot more eclectic than we give ourselves credit for. And I feel lucky to have grown up in the era when we made mix cassettes. I think it affected how I write scores. Because when you’re making a mix tape for your friends, it’s 90 minutes of music, in the order in which you curate it, so you’re creating the ebb and flow. That prepared me to write scores more than anything else. You want to surprise them, tell them how you feel about them, you want to express the wealth of your taste. How is that different from writing a Broadway score?”


Can he remember any of his mix tapes from that era? “Yes. I still think of the mix tape my friend Antonia made me that had both Sam Cooke’s Bring it On Home to Me and D’yer Mak’er from Led Zeppelin, which were the first two songs on side B. When I grew up, one of my favourite artists was Weird Al, who taught me that genre is just the clothes of the artist. Instrumentation can change, but we’re all dealing with the same 12 tones and a good melody is a good melody.”


For Miranda, one of the most gratifying aspects of Hamilton’s success has, therefore, been the fact that every high-profile rapper in the US has dropped backstage to tell him how much they love the show. “What hip-hop artists pick up on that your average theatre-goer doesn’t is that I’m using different flows for every character, the way a classical composer would use a different theme in, say, Peter and the Wolf. Everyone raps in a way that is consistent with their character and I’m modelling that after my favourite hip-hop artists. Hercules Mulligan is Busta Rhymes in my brain, and Hamilton is from the school of Eminem and Big Pun, where it’s how many syllables can I rhyme within a line, versus [George] Washington, which is much more straightforward and on the down beat. Because that’s who Washington is. Very regimented and a moral authority. To hear what Eminem, André 3000, or Chris Rock caught that I embedded in there – that is really fun.”


[…]


Miranda has no idea what his next show will be, only that the one fruitful way to find out is to maintain the right priorities. “I work in a world in which only one in five shows returns their investment. Failure is the norm. So you have to walk away from the years that you spent on something, thinking: ‘I did it for these reasons and I got that.’ Financial success cannot be your goal. But if your goal is, ‘I want to tell this story’, or ‘I want to learn from working with these people’, then things have a good chance of working out.”


It is also a question of understanding one’s own motivation, he says. “I think when you’re making something, you’re trying to fall in love with it; to express the best version of that idea. I think, naturally my subconscious tries to create the high I first felt when I was in Pirates of Penzance in the eighth grade.”


This was, he swears, all he was doing with Hamilton, staging it with no expectations, just to “see how the world responds”. Miranda smiles widely. “And the world freaked out.”

anonymous asked:

if i were a sentient arcade cabinet than id be driving people to madness all the fucking time,whats gonna happen im a gotdamn video game,i would be free of all consequence basically and also i would be a fucking mario maker man and thats all i would ever do is make video game levels,well im rambling so i guess ill end this

i love how this ask is one big run on sentence. i like this ask thank you very much

anonymous asked:

I'm so fucking done I just found a fanfiction where some random chick is forced to "breed" with Sheldon from the Big Bang theory and the whole thing is one really long run on sentence. Christmas is ruined.

send it in

6

so i was tagged for the 6 selfie thing???????????????? but ya 2015 has been one big shit show and I didnt know what I was going to do with my life having dropped out of school and such but Im finally in a good place and doing what I want and going to school again so ya 2016 will be fun!!!!!!!! and im tagging whoever wants to do this bc it cool