block capitals

Caught Off Guard // Im Jaebum (M) (AU!)

Originally posted by jitonic

Pairing: Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Smut, Officer!Jaebum, Dom!Jaebum

Summary; After stealing an expensive bracelet with the intentions of pawning it for cash, you get arrested by the malls security officer - and you offer him a deal he can’t refuse.

This scenario is rated M for MATURE as it contains smut - rough sex, handcuffs, general behaviour that you would actually go to jail for so please do not aTTEMPT THIS AT HOME YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Keep reading

So today at my tutorial...

Before we begin let me remind you that I’m 32.

Anyway I was sat listening to my tutor talk about the Protestant Reformation of Europe and I’m trying to take notes and be a serious student but instead I’m writing VICTURI in block capitals over and over again in my totally grown up and super serious Star Wars notebook.


Fucking hell I’m terrible at adulting.


I hope Willy is okay after sacrificing for his team

Character creation shenanigans

Recently I’ve managed to convince a bunch of schoolfriend to play DnD - we were expecting around 6 and ended up with 12! None of us have ever played DnD or a similar game before, so character creation was a fairly new concept. A couple of gems included:


DM: OK, so write Common and Elven in the languages that you speak - bottom left.

PC: Can I include French GCSE?

DM: (laughing) Sure!


(having rolled for 5 out of 6 stats, fairly well)

PC: I have no stats below 16!

DM: Nice, roll your last one then.

PC: (Rolls a double 2 and a double 1)

DM: Aaaaand there it is.


DM: As a barbarian, you get the ability to rage, so write that down on the right.

PC: (scrawls “RAGE” in block capitals across half the box)

PC: I did it!


PC: Can I play as a goat herder?

DM: Well I can’t stop you!


DM: So you’re sitting in a tavern at the back. Describe your character to me.

PC: I’m a dwarven rogue, with a hood over my face concealing my features, and I have two very deadly looking daggers in sheaths at my sides. I am drinking from an elaborate tankard with a dragons head carved into the handle.

DM: OK, what are you drinking?

PC: Ribena.

DM: (laughing) Fine.

Mixtapes - Michael Clifford [FLUFF]

Not Requested

Summary~ They start appearing every Wednesday; odd, beautiful, unique. Mixtapes.

A/N: This took me so long researching songs

Word Count - 1217

75, 23, 8. You enter your locker combination for a quick stop off between classes and go to toss your Chemistry books in when something falls to the ground with a rattling click. You look down to see a box with ‘Mixtape #1′ written on it in block capitals.. a cassette tape. Before you have time to properly stop and look at it the second bell rings to tell you that you’re late so you stuff it in your bag and grab your maths textbooks.

You forget about it until when you get home you empty your bag onto your bed to get your homework and there sat on top of the pile is the little box. You inspect it to find a tracklist on the back;

1. You Kill Me (In A Good Way) - Sleeping With Sirens

2. Don’t Stop Believing - Journey

3. Know Your Enemy - Green Day

4. My Heart Will Go One - Celine Dion

5. Name - Goo Goo Dolls

A really weird mix of songs but you are left intrigued to listen to them.

“Mum,” you call out wandering into the family lounge.

“Yeah?” she responds.

“Do we have a cassette player?” you question.

“I don’t know I was never much of a music listener, do we?” she turns to your dad.

“Let me check my old college boxes in the attic,” he stands.

You follow him as he rummages through the boxes that have been gathering dust for years.

“Can I ask why you need a cassette player?” your dad questions.

“One of my friends gave mea tape that she found and she wants me to listen to it, “ you lie, not really knowing how to explain ‘someone anonymously left a mixtape in my locker’.

“Ah here we go my old walkman, you might need to put some new batteries in but these things ere made to last!”

After replenishing the battery supply you spend the night listening to the 5 tracks, something about the slightly more mechanical and manual nature that really interests you. 

All throughout the week you keep the walkman on you for if you ever get sick of your itunes and end up listening to it on the walk too and from school. That following Wednesday you open your locker after Chemistry to hear another rattling click and there at your feet is ‘Mixtape #2′.

In your next lesson you check the tracklist again;

1. Could you be the one? - Stereophonics

2. You Raise Me Up - Westlife

3. Ever After - Marianas Trench

4. Like We Used To - A Rocket To The Moon

5. Me And My Broken Heart - Rixton

Yet another odd mix of songs but more to add to your apparently growing collection.

“Did one of you guys give someone my locker combo?” you ask your two friends, the only other people that know your locker combination.

“No,” one of them replies and the other shakes her head.

Well it’s a mystery as neither of them possess the technical ability to make a mixtape.

“Why?” they ask.

“These have been showing up in my locker,” you hand them the first mixtape and pop out the second from the walkman.

“Hand made, weird song list, cute, someone’s crushing on you,” they both nudge you.

They continue to show up over the course of the next 2 weeks, with equally odd playlists.

‘Mixtape #3′

1. I Knew You Were Trouble - Taylor Swift

2. See Beneath Your Beautiful - Labrinth 

3. You Can’t Stop The Beat - Hairspray

4. Are You Crazy - Conor Maynard

5. Listening - Tonight Alive

‘Mixtape #4′

1. Don’t You Worry Child - Swedish House Mafia

2. You - The Pretty Reckless

3. Get Down On Your Knees - All Time Low

4. It Will Rain - Bruno Mars

5. Yet - Switchfoot

You carry these 4 tapes with you everywhere, you grow attached to them somehow, they’re always in your jacket pocket and t the end of each day you unload them onto your desk with the walkman.

One day you get home from school and you drop your jacket outside your room, desperate for an after school nap and when you wake up again you hear the distinct sound of running water. Rubbing your eyes you get up and see a small pool of water seeping under the bathroom door, you open it to see a flood that started with an overflowing bath

“Mum, did you forget to turn the bath of the bathroom is soaked!” you yell.

Your parents come to the rescue quickly with towels to mop up the mess, you on the other hand turn your attention to your now slightly damp jacket that had absorbed some of the puddle outside of the bathroom. You then remember what was in your pockets; the walkman - wet but unharmed, mixtapes 2-4 - unharmed and mixtape 1 half soaked. You try to play it but it doesn’t work anymore so you pick up the box, the writing was written in felt pen so now it has all washed away, well all but the first word from each song. You. Don’t. Know. My. Name. You don’t know my name. That’s when it clicks and you grab the other mix tapes.

Could you ever like me.

I see you are listening.

Don’t you get it yet.

The sneaky shit has been using code.

The mystery starts to eat you alive so you decide to go out of your way to find out who it is, so between every period of school, no matter where you are, you check your locker. Nothing after 1st, nothing after 2nd, nothing after 3rd but 4th is when it appears.

‘Mixtape #5′

1. Notice Me - Kellin Quinn

2. Me - the 1975

3. I’m Yours - Jason Mraz

4. Too Much - All Time Low

5. Scared Of The Dark - Lower Than Atlantis

Notice me I’m too scared.

“Fancy skipping 4th period next Wednesday?” you ask your friends.


“I know when the mixtape master is making his deposits”

The next Wednesday rolls around and the three of you hide out in the store cupboard across from your locker, waiting.

“This is hopeless,” one of your friends says.

“Come on you can stay but we have to get to the other end of the scool for 5th period history”

You don’t battle with your friends for leaving, the period has slipped by and no one has shown up and as the bell rings you head over to your locker. The corridor fills and then empties leaving only you and a hooded boy frozen in his tracks at the opposite end of the hall. You watch him reach into his pocket and pull out a box; there he is.

After a few silent moments you walk to him and he tries to his his face, holding out the tape but instead you reach up and remove his hood. It’s Michael Clifford. That boy has been in all of your classes since you were 7, quiet but undeniably cute.

You take the tape, ‘Mixtape #6′ :

1. I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You - Elvis Presley

2. Give Me Love - Ed Sheeran

3. Up All Night - One Direction

4. On My Own - Les Mis

5. Us Against The World - Coldplay

“I give up on us,” you read.

He smiles, “I didn’t think you’d figure it out”


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Q as has to leave London and leaves his cats with Bond. The cats never seemed to like his boyfriend and in Bond’s eyes seems that the cats are trying to destroy the apartment while their owner is not there. 007 fought worst criminal than this cats… – anon

This is just, my favourite. Jen.

“Believe me, I’m not happy either,” Q said over the phone, Bond holding it close to his ear whilst conducting a staring match with the cats, who are trying to kill him. “Are they alright? Do they have enough food?”

“I have done exactly as you’ve told me.”

Q left a ridiculously pedantic list of things that needed doing with the cats. Step by step. Numbered. Block capitals, rather than his usual illegible scrawl. Absolutely foolproof.

But the fucking cats still hated him.

“Look, I don’t understand why they’re…”

“James, they are just cats.”

“R has knocked over every single mug of coffee I’ve made for the last two days.”

“She doesn’t like coffee.”

R was the more demonic of the pair. Whisp was mostly complicit, rather than evil in her own right.

“Does that excuse wanton destruction of my belongings?!” he continued, watching R suspiciously as she stalked malevolently around the coffee table, tail swishing nonchalantly. “I don’t know what to do, Q, I can’t make them happy!”

Q sounded equal parts amused and irritated. “Agent double-oh seven, one of the highest ranking agents in the entirety of the UK civil service, and cannot cope with two domestic cats. Quite extraordinary.”

“She’s watching me.”

Bond raised an eyebrow. R stared back placidly.

“She’s a cat.”

“A demon cat.”

Bond could have sworn the bloody thing smirked, before deciding to strop her claws on the sofa.


Q was trying desperately hard to placate Bond – don’t get so angry, it won’t help, don’t be mean to her – while Bond tried to stop the bloody cat destroying the furniture, succeeding in making R move to Bond’s suit trousers instead. Sodding thing.

“I liked this suit,” he told Q plaintively.

Q was quiet for a moment. “You’re not in the office. Why are you wearing a suit?”

Bond was equally quiet for a moment. “I wanted to.”

“But you’re at home.”

“I like wearing suits.”

The smile was audible. “You’re very strange. Formal wear at home.”

“You, of all people, have no place telling me off about clothing.”

Q laughed, gently and lovingly.

Bond almost forgot the cats.

Then Whisp decided to piss on the carpet, and Bond nearly burst into tears.

one of the most striking elements of the BLM protests that I’ve attended has been the ability of the organizers and the protesters as an organic unit to occupy space in such a way that we disrupted flows of power by physically disrupting flows of capital: blocking freeways, major intersections, or train stations.

the use of disruption in just such a way is an old tactic that’s been used throughout the history of protests. i think it’s basically the reason that Occupy neutralized itself in so many cases: the occupation of ‘public space’ really constituted the occupation of space on a landscape of media perspectivity, rather than the disruption of power flows along the lay lines of capital. in that way, any insurrectionary potential Occupy (at least within my experiences of it) might have had disappeared into the constant codification and striation of media narratives.

i wonder what would have happened if like, an occupy protest punched a newscaster or something? #disruptflowsofNoise