bird pile

College Gothic
  • You circle the parking lot of your friend’s apartment complex, trying to find the exit. You can’t find the exit. In fact, you can’t even remember ever entering.
  • You stare at the blank work document in front of you, trying to write an essay. But the more you type, the larger the screen grows. Soon the white will consume you.
  • Your professor asked you to sign a contract, where you agree to not cheat. You sign it. In blood. But only ironically.
  • Is it you, or have more spiders crawled into your dorm, and under your bed?
  • You make an appointment to see an academic adviser. But there is no adviser, just a tiny, intelligent bird sitting on piles and piles of paperwork.
  • You see them, as you walk through the quad. You fear them. Recruitment for rush, it is coming for you.
  • The squirrels. They are smarter than you.
  • You try to pick a major after a year of doing core classes, but then you realize you cannot even remember who you are anymore.
  • You wish to go off campus to eat, but only find desert and water priced at $60 dollars. A tumbleweed blows by.
  • 8 am classes? You are now dead inside.
A Walk In The Snow - (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Originally posted by forever-winter-wonderland

Originally posted by draconianleon

The snow crunched under your boots as you walked, and you could feel the cold slowly creeping through your socks and biting into your skin. The clouds to the south were tinged a pale yellow from the lights of the town. The snow that covered everything with a blanket of white seemed to deaden the sound, and the only noise was the singing of the birds. Occasionally a pile of snow would fall off an overhanging tree branch and hit the ground with a barely audible fwish.

Burying your nose deeper into your cream-colored scarf, you looked around at the beauty surrounding you with wide eyes. The road stretched out ahead of you, unmarked by footprints or tire-tracks.

You walked for what felt like it was both a very long time and no time at all when you saw a lone set of footprints on edge of the road. Your curiosity awoken, you began to follow the trail. Crossing what was usually a busy road but was now just a streak of white paint winding away to the horizon, you felt  exhilaration rising up in you. Breaking out into a run, you found yourself unable to break away from the trail that twisted up into the woods, the mysterious footsteps still there.

Slowing yourself down to a walk, you found yourself emerging into a small clearing. The ground was still clear here, with snow dusted around the edges like icing on a cake. An old log lay in the middle, with mushrooms and fungi clinging to the ends. Couching on the short green grass behind it was a tall, lanky looking man with messy brown hair. You could see powdery white flakes sticking to the ends of his hair, and on his striking blue coat.

“Newt?” You finally spoke, reluctant to break the peaceful silence.

Newt started and whipped his head around to look at you. Cradled in his hands was some sort of small fuzzy creature. “Y/n!” He laughed, a little breathless. “I’m putting this little guy back where he belongs…” Lowering the little ball of fuzz to the ground, it let out a loud squeak and rushed off into the woods. Bemused, you noticed that as it disappeared off into the trees it didn’t leave any prints in the snow.

Newt stood up and brushed the snow off of his pants (that were a little too small still, you noted). Moving over beside you, you reached out and took his hand in yours. Even through your fuzzy woolen mittens you could feel the cold radiating off of his bare skin. “You should’ve worn mittens, you’ll freeze!” You spoke quietly still, feeling the serene stillness of the forest surround the two of you.

Newt moved closer to you, and you could see his misty breath dancing away through the chill air. “I’ll be fine.” He squeezed your hand gently, and you smiled. Everything was going to be alright.  

  • Heather Mason, at the start of Silent Hill 3: i am 17 years old and what the fuck is going on aaaaaa
  • Heater Mason, at the end of Silent Hill 3: *shoves corpse in a wheelchair out of the way, casually flips the bird at a pile of screaming meat* aw nice, machine gun bullets
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Sleepy birb fighting not to fall asleep.

just some little details from civil war:

  • wanda calling vision ‘viz’
  • the guitar and music stand in wanda’s room
  • and all of the hourglasses in her room, seriously - paintings with them and an hour glass on her shelf someone is harboring a black widow crush
  • bucky and his shorter bangs. he probably cut them himself
  • his notebook tabs and sleeping bag and chocolate bars
  • sam supporting steve by going with him to peggy’s funeral
  • natasha’s quiet little “c'mere”
  • steve burying his head in her shoulder
  • ‘she bought me my first thigh holster’ 
  • imagine 80-year old peggy carter taking her teenage niece to buy a thigh holster
  • just imagine it. 
  • pete’s pizza da vinci shirt and his lil junk pile 
  • “bird costume? c'mon”
  • pete trying to read bucky and sam their miranda rights 
  • the winter soldier theme music 
  • bucky’s lip trembling right as zemo starts reciting the command words 
  • nat’s two crotch shots 
  • scott getting bug zapped by the widow’s bite
  • tic tac
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This is how they like to lay in their hut. Monkey climbs in and Buddy climbs on top of him. They both seem to like this arrangement and it is the cutest thing ever to see. Monkey has always enjoyed lying down flat and Buddy can make a quick escape this way when a hand gets too close. Plus Monkey can get some extra cuddles from Buddy this way.