buy vans

“Take it slow, tell me all how you’ve grown, just for me, could we all reminisce?
Better yet, here’s a pen, make a list, fill it’s full of all the things I’ve missed

Cause I could barely drive past the school, without stopping to think of you
And how we used to act the fool
But worst of all I wish I’d called at least a thousand times or more
Just to hear, what I’ve been missing…”

thelowradio-deactivated20170203  asked:

w how tall r your siblings?

mmmmm i asked them and they both said they don’t really know – my brother is prolly a bit over 5′6 or something idk – he’s taller than me and my sister and we think he’s still growing

i have to tiptoe so hard just to match my sister’s height in photos :( people often mistake us for twins tho loool

Tried to give shitty neighbour a taste of his own medicine. Ended up getting him some hefty fines.

My initial plan should have resulted in an @petty-revenge-stories worthy post, but I inadvertently ended up going a lot further. (long story: tl;dr at the end)

Some background:

My neighbour, let’s call him Dave, is a twat. Literally everyone on the street hates him. The previous owners of our house left because of him: we gave them a lowball offer on the house which they accepted straight away because Dave drove them crazy. We initially didn’t pay much mind because, for 10/12 years that we’ve lived here he’s been pretty courteous, even very helpful. His attitude changed over the past 2 years. He’s started complaining about the volume of my guitar playing even though his dog is yapping away 24/7 - bear in mind this is a dog which he doesn’t even let out of the house. He forced us to reposition our CCTV cameras so they didn’t look into his gardens, then put up his own which look into ours claiming it’s his property so he can do what he wants. Some craftsmen came to do work on our roof, and he complained about them to the council on a small technicality with their scaffolding, causing them to get fined.

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wonder-sonder-wander  asked:

HC that in their quest to be the Most Supportive People Possible, MJ and Ned buy a cheap old van that they stock w/ snacks and medical supplies and anything else Peter might need and if he ever ends up far away after a mission they drive it out and pick him up. It's called the ~SpiderVan~ (im really proud of the pun btw)

one night may is really worried about where peter is. she knows he’s spider-man, and she knows that means late nights, but it’s Late. it’s almost five in the morning, and yeah peter doesn’t have school tomorrow but that’s the least of her concerns. it never gets easier when it comes to worrying about peter.

she goes in his room and looks around, and then opens the window and just looks outside hopelessly into the sky. but…. then she hears a noise. a loud thumping of music, and she looks down to see an ugly white van parked in front of their apartment building with a spider-man logo poorly spray painted on the sliding doors. music is blaring from it, and the lights in the van seem to be on. raising an eyebrow, may goes to investigate.

she makes her way downstairs and outside, then cautiously approaches the van. the moment she gets about five feet near it, suddenly the music stops, and through one of the windows she can see a silhouette going still. she takes another step forward and hears mumbling coming from inside the van. she places her hand slowly on the door handle and –

the doors suddenly bolt open and may begins screaming, and she hears somebody else screaming and opens her eyes only to see peter and ned shrieking and mj sat in a beanbag reading a book. peter is wearing his spidey suit but it’s halfway taken off, the upper half just hanging down, and his chest looks to be bandaged up.

“what the hell, peter!” may yells, running a hand through her hair anxiously. “it’s 5 in the morning, why aren’t you in your room, why are you out here in this van!?”

“actually, aunt may,” ned begins “it isn’t 5 in the morning, it’s 4:47 in the – ”

“i will kill you,” may whispers through clenched teeth, and ned gulps. mj snorts but doesn’t look up from her book.

“ned and mj got this van to drive around in after patrols so they can help patch me up!! look how cool it is.” peter stands up fully, not having to hunch inside the van because he’s Short, and begins walking around as if he’s on an episode of mtv cribs. may rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

“here you will see the medicine drawer, stocked with assorted pain meds, allergy pills, and of course good old fashioned crack cocaine – ”

“you aren’t funny,” may says

“we also have gauze, bandages, and even some extra testosterone and syringes for the night’s when peter is afraid he might miss his injection time!!” ned says proudly

may eyes ned suspiciously “how did you manage to get testosterone. how did you manage to get any of this medicine, i see morphine.”

“stark funded the van,” mj says boredly, flipping through a book she certainly isn’t reading anymore

“of course he did,” may sighs. she doesn’t like that tony stark.

“um, if we could get back to the spider-van tour,” peter says in fake annoyance. “over here you will see the snack section, i know it appears to just be cardboard box full of chips and soda but do not be fooled, it is real food,” peter looks down to his feet, trying to think of something else to show may about the van. “you’ll see we have shag carpeting. groovy.”

“alright, you’re coming inside and going to bed. all of you, come on.”


Catfish and the Bottlemen’s Associated Press Interview

this just in: you cannot enjoy fashion/art made by queer artists/designers if you are homophobic. let’s give have an easy rundown of who it is you are discriminating if you are homophobic:

Giorgio Armani

Gianni Versace

Karl Lagerfeld

Christian Louboutin

Alexander McQueen

Christian Dior

Tom Ford


Yves Saint Laurent

Stefano Gabbana (of Dolce&Gabbana)

Dries Van Noten

Alexander Wang

Marc Jacobs

and that’s only the biggest names of the last 50 years. the list goes on, and the world of fashion, as it turns out, is built on queer artists.

@andromedainwonderland said:

Teen Wolf-Scooby Doo, as in, the Teen Wolf crew driving around in the Jeep solving supernatural mysteries. Just me?

So I don’t know what this is, but this fic turned out to be my ARCH NEMESIS, so, you know, make of that what you will. It’s even alternating POVs, which I haven’t written in years upon years. So please appreciate how much this story wanted to kill me, and how we’re still eyeing each other with open hostility from different corners of the room.

The groundskeeper has gnarled, knotted fingers and rheumy eyes, and it takes five hundred years for him to turn the key in the rusted padlock.  The gate creaks almost as loud as his bones, and Derek flicks an ear in irritation.

“That’s a big dog you’ve got there,” he says, only mildly curious.

Stiles buries one hand in the scruff around Derek’s neck. “Not sure he is one,” Stiles says, and Derek cocks his head up at him.

Scott has the van idling behind them.

Derek takes a deep breath and sneezes. Decay, old blood, and sulfur flood his senses—he whines softly. He doesn’t have a good feeling about this.

The old house looms in front of them, stone and spires, ominous, cloaked in shadows thrown by the nearly full moon. His skin ripples under his fur, uneasy, and he tucks his tail between his legs.

“Relax,” Stiles murmurs to him. “This is easy money, right? A simple salt and burn.”

Derek huffs, knocks into Stiles’ side as he hastily turns around, and then slinks back to the van. He doesn’t like this place. He never likes haunted places, too much lingering despair that stirs up old guilt, but this house feels like it’s made out of skeleton bones, dread sits like a stone in his belly.

Lydia already has the side of the van open. He hops in, slides past Kira, and then digs into Stiles’ open duffle, buries his snout in an old t-shirt that smells a little bit like Scott, too.

“Dude,” Stiles says when he climbs in after him. “Come on.”

Derek growls, low in his throat, and Stiles backs off with a huffy, “Fine, be that way.”

The van grinds into gear and rolls forward slowly, tires bumping over the cobblestone drive, and Derek feels like his chest is caving in.

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