but should be close enough

I Want To Paint Your Lips - Eleven

“What should we do, Sir?” The two men watched the security camera footage of the arts room, the patient and care taker holding each other like they couldn’t get close enough. “Should I remove his care over the patient?”

The black man’s eyes rolled over the screen, clear quality as the caretaker, Mr Fong, stopped his patient, and they both reluctantly locked up and removed themselves from the room. He had respect for the caretaker, one of the better known men for his pairing with the infamous Delirious.

Pairing had suddenly become something closer and it was worrying for the cameraman and his supervisor. There had been bad incidents where caretakers had gotten too attached to patients and it was never something to work out well. Attempts of smuggling them out of the building, and unchaining them to be free mostly ended up with murder and/or the caretaker earning a room and strait jacket of their own.

They weren’t fun to deal with.

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Great Balls of Fucking Fire!

(Title because everyone titles their shit ‘humans are weird’ and telling these posts apart is a pain in the ass!) So, saw a post about aliens not being all that great with human swearing. (Wish I’d saved the damn post!) And my first thought was ‘Ah, yes, good! Go with that! That is awesome!” They pointed out that aliens wouldn’t understand swearing such as “Fuck!” or “Asshole!”. I thought “Motherfucker” would be another great one to add to the list. But what about the more um…inventive swears? For example (these are all ones that I use or have heard used):

Human: “Jesus Christ on a crutch!”

Alien: “Where? And how was your deity hurt? For that matter, how did your deity board the ship?”

Human: “Well fuck me sideways!”

Alien: “I do not think that is anatomically possible for either of us…”

Human: “I’ve met some pricks in my time, but you fine sir are the fucking cactus!”

Alien: “Fucking…cactus? Why would you wish to engage in coitus with a dessert plant? Wouldn’t it hurt?!”

Human: “Son of a biscuit eating bull dog!”

Alien: ?????

(Damnit, now I’m on a roll.) But consider some of these other things. What about human name calling? Like, the original post touched on that a bit with the ‘asshole’ comment. But again, what about the more inventive name calling? Children call each other ‘meanie’, ‘poopoo head’, and ‘meanie head’. Those would be confusing enough. Now picture an alien having to deal with adult name calling. Some of my friends have been known to use the following:

  • Twat waffle
  • Cunt biscuit
  • Shitlet
  • Douchebag
  • Ass goblin
  • Fuckwit
  • Ass clown
  • Captain Obvious (and their partner, Sergeant Sarcasm)
  • Butt Munch
  • Fucktard
  • Dick face
  • Shit nibbler (or nibblet)
  • Cheeky dickwaffle
  • Pecker head
  • Dingleberry

Can you picture an alien reacting to THOSE? And what about colloquialisms? What about those stupid sayings that don’t entirely make sense, but we use them anyway? Like, check out some of these beauties, and just imagine the alien’s glorious confusion over some of these:

 Human: “I am dragging so much ass that I am wiping out the tracks behind me!”

Alien: “Human you can’t leave tracks on a spaceship, nor is you posterior currently touching the ground.”

Human: (doesn’t trust some space pirate) “You can shake his hand, but you’ll have to count your fingers afterward.”

Alien: Promptly hides human’s hands, he didn’t know that that space pirate was a finger stealer! Or that finger stealers were a thing! Are their own tentacles close enough to count? Should they be worried? Don’t worry, I will protect your fingers my human!

Human: “We better dock soon, because I’ve got to pee like a motherfucker/ racehorse/ mother racehorse (that last is my families fusion of the two. Dont ask).

Alien: ???? (doesn’t compute) ?????

Human: “I’m so hungry I could eat a (insert large animal or item of choice. Such as ‘Spaceship’)!”

Alien: Races off to warn captain that they need to up the human’s food intake before it eats the ship right out from under them!!!!

Human: “He’s slicker than owl shit!” 

Alien: ?????

Human: “I’m busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest!”

Alien: Gets migraine trying to picture how a human with one leg could kick anything, much less as a competitor.

Human: “Stop running around like a chicken with your head cut off! Your hair is not on fire!”

Alien: Freezes mid-step to stare at human. “W-what?”

Just picture all of these guys!

  • For reasons unknown, it is referred to by other Fair Folk as Anna Monday. 
  • The Fair Folk seem frightened of it, which is a warning sign in and of itself.
  • It appears to be an armless mannequin made of thousands of fragments of sea glass.
  • When the sun shines through the frosted glass, you can see a kind of oily smoke moving lazily inside the sea glass shell.
  • Under no circumstances should you ever get close enough to see any further details.
  • There are no stories, anywhere, of anyone interacting with Anna Monday. Nothing in the contraband guides between covers slicked with iron-dusted paint; nothing online; nothing in Elsewhere University’s extensive oral history. In some ways this is more worrying than an outright horror story.
  • It is most common to find it a good twenty meters or so from the automotive and metalworking building, standing stock still. It has no eyes, but it is always watching the second floor.
  • Give it a wide berth.

cool suave tentacle seeks john 🍆

@wimpytentacleofficial moodboard

FUNNY STORY ABOUT THESE: for whatever reason, the place I bought them from shipped them separately. Chirrut was to arrive on Monday, Baze on Tuesday. But when UPS tried to deliver on Monday, my roommate couldn’t get to the door in time. So I tried to have Chirrut delivered to my local UPS Access Point. But for whatever reason, it wouldn’t let me, so I crossed my fingers that they would deliver him with Baze the next day since I was planning on working from home. Then of course Tuesday, there was a snowstorm and UPS didn’t deliver anything. I was able to arrange to have Baze delivered to the Access Point, but it still wouldn’t let me have Chirrut delivered there. So I left a note for the driver to deliver to the coffee shop under my apartment instead. Then right before I left work today, my roommate texted me to let me know I had two large packages waiting for me. Long story short: there’s no power in the universe that can separate these two.

Thoughts on growing a beard: Judaism.

Growing a beard puts me back in line with a commandment that God gave to the Jews – namely, that you shall not shave the corners of your beard.

(Hilariously, no one is sure where “the corners of your beard” are actually located. Some people believe that this is the side-locks that you see on Orthodox Jewish men, some people just grow out their whole beards on the theory that if you don’t shave anything, you can’t shave the corners. Most people don’t care.)

Anyone who has seen me cook pork knows that I’m not exactly an observant Jew. But I do keep track of which commandments I’m following and which ones I’m not, not because I’m keeping score (which isn’t even how it works), but because I think it’s good to be conscious of it. I’m going to try to explain why.

I have a memory of a friend of mine – who in any just world would be a rabbi – explaining to me that the commandment for Jews not to shave the corners of their beard comes from a passage about not worshipping the Bael, and that it almost certainly is referring to a specific religious practice in Canaanite Polytheism.

The point of the commandment isn’t that there’s something inherently wrong with shaving whatever part of your beard “the corners” is. The point is that you should not even come close to Bael worship. It’s not enough just not to do it. You should not do anything that approaches doing it.

It’s easy to dismiss this as just excessive purity focus – and a lot of Jewish commandments are just that – but there is something else to it as well. I think about Ta-Nehisi Coates talking about (of all things) his diet. He said that it’s all very well to say “I can have ice cream in my freezer and just choose not to eat it.” But, if there is ice cream in his freezer, he will eat it. Self control, he says, is in the grocery aisle. Similarly, in the commandment to not shave the corners of your beard, self-control isn’t deciding not to go into the temple of Bael. Self control lives at the razor-blade.

Because so much of our religious culture is Jewish-derived, it can be hard to understand the place of Judaism in the ancient world. At the time that these commandments were written, it wasn’t existing in the context of other monotheism. Rather, it was a radical monotheist religious practice existing side-by-side with an ongoing polytheist tradition from which it had probably sprung. So, the choice about remaining Jewish or going to worship the Bael wasn’t some absurd thing – it was a regular choice that everyone could be expected to cope with in their daily lives. So the practices of Bael worship – even if they aren’t done in the context of actually worshipping actual gods – are forbidden. Like shaving the corners of your beard.

And like child sacrifice.


As I remember it (and I don’t care if I’m right or wrong about this), right next to the commandment not to shave the corners of your beard is the commandment “you shall not offer your children unto Bael.” Which, to be clear, isn’t any kind of symbolic baptism or something. It’s straight-up child sacrifice – killing your child in sacrifice to the gods so that they might bless you. This was a fairly common practice in Canaanite polytheism, and it lasted until at least Carthage. It’s a common practice, and also one that (very specifically), Jews don’t do. Or, at least, we’re not supposed to.

There’s little risk in me – or any other modern Jew – practicing Canaanite paganism. That particular religion is dead and buried, and good riddance to it. So, in that sense, there is little sense to the prohibition on shaving the corners of my beard. It’s not like, in my daily life, I’m going to be walking by a Canaanite temple and say “oh, sure, what the hell?” and pop in to say a quick prayer to the Bael and light some incense.

But child sacrifice is something we still do in our society. Every day, in so many ways, we sacrifice our children. Sure, we’re not cutting hearts out or burning kids alive in ritual ceremonies. But, in so many other ways, we sacrifice our children to any number of false gods – for ourselves, for our communities, to keep the peace, to keep the silence that we claim is peace, or just because we enjoy it. Every time someone tells a child “that never happened” or “we don’t talk about that” or “it’s your fault,” that is, in its own way, child sacrifice.

If the commandment to not shave the corners of my beard has any meaning to my life, then, it’s this: a reminder we do not sacrifice our children. Jews today are still bound by the commandment of God to Abraham – we do not sacrifice our children. We do not sacrifice them to false gods. We don’t sacrifice them to the true God. We do not sacrifice them to peace, or to silence, or “the community,” or to “a good man who just made a mistake.” This commandment is our primary commandment. It comes before anything else – it even comes before “I am adonai your god” and “you shall have no other gods before me.” It is who we are as a people.

(Of course, it isn’t. Of course, every day, in so many ways, Jews – secular and liberal and Orthodox and every other kind – sacrifice our children. That transgression, at least, has never gone away.)

Every day, when I shave, or when I choose not to shave, I think of this commandment. We do not shave the corners of our beards. We do not offer our children unto Bael.

i had a patient with stage 3 rectal cancer and severe cachexia. she weighed about 34kgs. she had ascites so she looked about 9 months pregnant. but her little arms, oh she was so tiny. and full of rectal tumours which made her constipated. she was quite an alternative lady, she lived a natural lifestyle and appreciated esoteric arts like astrology. she was palliative care. doctors gave her months at most, likely weeks. we had long talks. she was so compacted in her bowl it was quite horrible. so we suggested aperients. natural ones. pineapple juice i said. and she replied, ‘pineapple juice? i dont know, doesn’t that have a lot of sugar and preservatives?’. and you think, oh, does it so much matter? don’t you want comfort? realistically, you are going to die soon. but this was such a lesson to me, some people i guess would say it’s ignorant, and despite my initial reaction something larger swept over me, something i think is important. that people have to stay true to themselves, and when we are approaching something like death, how can we judge? this lady had lived by her lifestyle, it made her feel good, it was who she was. how could you deny somebody this in their last moments on earth? it was the person she was, something she believed in, and who was i, or any health care provider for that matter to tweak her personality for some final weeks. yes she had the chemicals of chemotherapy running through her. but she went to heaven without those additives and preservatives, cancer destroyed her body but not her spirit, the essence of who she was, a tiny example, but something if we watch closely enough in others should be so admired 

anonymous asked:

jerejean in the rain?

you come…..to my house….ask for rain and jerejean………….when u know FULL WELL they live in drought city, U S A … and my weakness is dampness. good god u anons are good

Jeremy is an athlete, which means he wears a watch with a timer no matter how nerdy and ugly it is; and he’s a college athlete in his senior year, which means he has a Google Calendar more packed than one of his suitcases when he needs to fly home. In other words: Jeremy keeps track of time to the minute at least. He’s not organized in other parts of his life, but in this one, knowing when and how long, he’s basically a walking bullet journal.

All of which is to say: Jean has been in L.A. for six months, fourteen days, six hours, and twenty-three minutes when Jeremy blinks during lunch with the team and realizes he’s staring. 

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On the Train || Jungkook || Oneshot

Originally posted by hohbi

Word Count: 1403

Genre: fluff, oneshot

Summary: There was a sadness in his eyes that vanished when he saw you.

There was always a boy on the train. Since you were young, he’d be there and as you grew up he was still there. He would always sit at the back of the train and he would stare out the window. When he was too small to see out the window, he’d stare at his hands, but as he grew and now that he’s older, his were trained outwards at some mysterious force. His eyes were always a little moist and his head was always a little tilted. He never smiled and when he did, it was a sad and small smile, as if he were reminiscing.

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tips for the new year

stop arguing extensively with people online as a hobby:

  • its boring and isolating
  • its a cheap way to get a short burst of self esteem in something thats not actually fun or encourages your own growth
  • the likelihood that you, a complete stranger, will change someone’s mind if you just tweet at them enough is close to zero
  • you should take time to think seriously about how you want to engage with the world and develop your opinions based on varied, new experiences
  • if you ignore shitty people it makes them go so ballistic they meltdown spectacularly, pretty much every time without fail
  • no one is impressed by your internet text victory. in the rare cases where someone is, its impressive for the 3 seconds it took to read the tweet
  • when i have to scroll past your 120000 word nerd slap fight it mildly inconveniences me
  • just play a video game
Knighted- Chapter 4

longest one so far, but not too long to enjoy. Bunch of stuff in this one! rather liked it. Let me know what you think! seeing people enjoy it makes it all the more fun to continue!

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Too Much Trouble

Originally posted by calif0rnia-lovers

Summary: You get to know your neighbor Frank when he needs help

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 3,700 (yikes)

Warnings: mentions of violence, language, injuries, medical procedures, blood, broken bones, difficulty breathing, needles… Frank? Is Frank a warning?

A/N: this is for @atari-writes who’s been nagging me for a Frank fic (jk hun I love you) I really don’t think this is very good… but here it is… (also @deanssweetheart23 because you’re my twin and you read all the things)

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smileyderek  asked:

is it really so bad to write a character waking up? everywhere i look it says not to do that and its really discouraging me because the point is my MC can't get used to where he is and is thinking of home.

Do you mean writing it as the first scene? Or somewhere else in the story?

Even if it’s the first scene, and everyone’s quoting you The Rule … those rules can be broken. You need to write a good scene that advances the plot and the characters and if that’s what your scene does, tell your Inner Critic to go to sleep. And not wake up.

Here’s some good advice about writing the wake up, or any scene. 

Also, make sure you’re starting close enough to where you should be – the closest you can be to the action. This is probably why so many people think they dislike the wake up opening. Because it was poorly done and out of place. 

Don’t get hung up with these kinds of rules on your first draft. Write it the way you feel you need to now, and re-examine it later. 

– mod Aliya

  • Griffin: "My boyfriend-to-be keeps on giving me the head lice. About two months ago I found some head lice in my hair the morning after someone I'm dating slept in my place. I did the treatment the same day. Two weeks later, slept together again and I found living lice again. It happened again yesterday, then I got the treatment again. And today as well." That's four lices. That's four different lice events. "What should I do? We're not close enough to talk about that, but I'm pretty sure he's the one giving them to me. I'm tired of doing treatments and changing tons of sheets after we're sleeping. I thought about telling him I got them somehow, and in a responsible way I'm telling him but I'm afraid he'll be turned off by me. Please help me, *frowney face*."
  • Justin: Turned off by you? He's the lice guy!
  • Travis: This is a tale as old as time. We get this question every week where people say, 'I'm sleeping with someone but at what point is it time to say I know you have lice?' Y'know what I mean? Like, yes, we will engage in intercourse and sleep in the same bed together, but we're not quite at the place where we're comfortable talking about each other's head lice?!
  • Griffin: He's probably very embarrassed about it. Here's what drives me crazy is you've done four of these treatments - if he does one, he's probably good to go at that point.
  • Travis: I don't think he IS that embarrassed, Griffin. I'm saying, maybe that's what he thinks he's bringing to the table. 'Listen, I don't have a great personality, I'm not very rich, but you know what I do have? Head full of lice.'
  • Justin: A billion little fingers to please you.
  • Griffin: Oh god!
  • Travis: We're gonna share this together, baby. You, me, and the lice.
  • Griffin: Go. Go, my little sexual servants.
  • ...
  • Travis: Call me Lice Bryce.
  • Justin: Lice Bryce, Ant-Man's shitty brother.
  • ...
  • Travis: I've also never described anyone as my 'girlfriend-to-be'.
  • Justin: Well Trav, I think if somebody gave me lice four times I'd probably keep'em in the maybe column.

anonymous asked:

Okay imagine sf!pap, ut!sans, uf!sans, and us!pap all get a secret admirer/love letter! Okay so after their initial reaction then imagine they find out that iT'S FROM THEIR CRUSH OMG! You know those boys would be glowing with blushes. lmao~

UT!Sans: When he firsts finds the note, it doesn’t occur to him that it could be from you. And since you’re the only one he currently has eyes for, he’s more worried about who he’s going to have to let down gently. He’s flattered and all, but he’s not interested in anyone. Except for you of course. He starts thinking about who might have sent him the note. And, he can’t really think of anyone who would go so far. Except maybe… you? So he studies the note closely, and oh my god that is your handwriting. And it actually kind of smells like your perfume. And oh my god you sent him that note. He blushes without meaning to, and the dorkiest grin you’ve ever seen spread across his face. At least now he knows that you have feelings for him too. And even though he’s not the type to go full blown romantic and take you on an amazing and expensive night out, he plans a sweet date that he asks you out on. 

UF!Sans: His first thought is shit. Just what the fuck has he gotten himself into? Did he give someone false hopes on a romantic relationship with him? Do they know what they’d be walking into if they chose to date him? He’s doing them a favor by just ignoring this, and going to sleep to avoid this situation. Right? But, after studying it, he starts to recognize the handwriting. And this isn’t as lovey dovey stupid as he first thought, it’s actually pretty sweet. They obviously know a lot about him, which narrows down the search a little. Actually, the only one he can think of is you… As soon as he realizes this he’s a blushing mess. He’s lucky that he locked himself away in his room, he can’t let anyone see him like this. All smiley and red faced, reading and re-reading the note over and over again. Next time he sees you, he puts on a confident face and saunters over to you, making you back up against the closest wall. He leans in real close, face almost close enough that it should count as a kiss. Then he holds up his hand, holding your letter between the two of you- 

‘’This belong to you, sweetheart?’’

US!Papyrus: He knows it’s from you, but he doesn’t take it seriously. It’s probably just another prank. A stupid one, but still just a prank. And this is what he believes until the next time he sees you. You keep eyeing him expectantly, close to scared. He starts to realize that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t joking around. And he suddenly feels so bad, because here you go pouring your heart out in a letter to him, and he completely ignores it. He’s so embarrassed and flustered, that he kind of just slowly leaves to be on his own and sort through what happened. When he feels secure enough in the situation, he finds you. 

‘’Listen kid, sorry about not thanking you for the note. How about we go out this weekend and I’ll make it up to you’’

Yeah, he’s taking you to Muffet’s. At least he’s buying the drinks and food. 

SF!Papyrus: Oh my god. He is so confused. Who would send this to him? He wants it to be you, he desperately wants it to be you. But he can’t let himself believe that. He scans the message anyway, looking for clues. Every time he finds something that points towards it being you, a voice in his head says no, they’re not interested in you like that. He’s second guessing himself so much, and eventually he breaks. He texts you, asking if it’s you. When you confirms he’s so relieved and happy and almost giddy. He tells you that he likes you too, a lot. And then sets up a date for you two. He meant to stop texting you after that, but he honestly doesn’t want to stop talking. And he’s so happy that he basically texts you everyday until the weekend. When the date comes, you’re both so comfortable in the situation that it’s not awkward at all. Only sweet and romantic and a tad bit nervous. You’re like two high schoolers with a crush, it’s adorable.

300 words challenge day 1

A Ripe Golden Fruit

Loki pulled his furs tighter around him and watched the Asgardian prince through narrowed eyes. It had been foolish for the Aesir to travel to Jotunheim alone. He was lucky it had only been Loki who found him and not one of his brothers, or, gods forbid, his father. Laufey and his older sons were all cruel; Loki himself was not, although there were many who saw his lack of compassion as a cruelty in and of itself.

The Asgardian prince, Thor - for it must be him - picked his way through the frozen plain, oblivious to Loki’s presence. Loki regarded him with a certain hunger. He was of a size with Loki himself and though his coloring was strange to Loki’s eyes the breadth of his shoulders and the thickness of his arms were breathtaking. His hair as well, Loki had never seen the like, golden and gleaming palely in Jotunheim’s weak sun.

Loki stepped out from behind an ice pillar and let his invisibility spell dissolve.

Thor drew up short and put his hand casually on the hammer hanging at his belt.

“You are Loki,” Thor said.

“I am,” Loki said, pleased that his reputation had preceded him so. “And you are Thor.”

“Are you to take me prisoner, then?”


“So you have not come for me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Loki said softly.

“What do you mean?” Thor’s eyes were very blue. How delightfully strange. They swept over Loki.

“I have been watching you, Thor of Asgard,” Loki said, pitching his voice low and pacing slowly forward. He shook one hand free of his furs and let his bracelets fall to cover his wrist. “You are very far from home, a ripe golden fruit in these frozen wastes. You should be careful lest someone -” and he was close enough now that he raised his hand to rest lightly on Thor’s cheek - “pluck you.”

He felt Thor’s intake of breath. “What if I do not wish to be plucked?”

Loki smiled and it was all teeth.

“It’s far too late for that.”