cane pole

It’s Over [Part 1]

Pairing: Peter X Reader
Warnings: Language, HELLA ANGST
A/N: Don’t kill me when you guys read this lmao. REMINDER: I don’t have a tags list!


You weren’t sure what happened between you and Peter, no matter how much you stayed up at night and thought about things you had said or done you couldn’t pinpoint a reason for the sudden distance he had put between you two.

It had been going on for about a month before you decided enough was enough, that you and him had to talk and you wouldn’t let him make up some excuse again. You would talk to him and get an explanation for why his attitude changed completely.

He used to be the most caring, sweetest, funniest boyfriend you ever had. Peter would treat you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him. You hadn’t even been dating for a month before he told you he loved you, a blushing and stuttering mess, and you had just laughed and told him you loved him too, much to his relief.

You two were so perfect together that even at fifteen, you couldn’t imagine a future without him. You had envisioned you both going to college, even getting married, growing old - it didn’t seem unusual to you, because he was it for you.

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anonymous asked:

SPN usually doesn't just leave loose narrative ends. Like, the issue/question might be resolved subtextually, textually, etc, and it might take a while, but they do eventually come back to everything. Full circle. Dean and Sam have pondered life with someone "in the life." Dean has pondered "experiencing things differently." We have the love and love thing, we have he's in love with humanity, we have Cas textually saying i love you. I gotta wonder where it's all going. What full circle is.

(full circle anon) Sorry, forgot this: *sarcastically inserts we just don’t know bird gif*


I like to think of the show more as a spiral. Yeah, it seems to keep getting back around to the “full circle” moment and then just misses it by a hair enough to loop the spiral back around again.

Each go-around is bringing it ever closer to the center, and they make a little progress on each successive loop. It’s never exactly the same, and each time seems to have a (mostly) progressively better result… but the loop continues.

This is why I’m having such a time with s12. The loop has now wound so close to the middle that it’s like we’re seeing EVERYTHING from the previous loops all at once. Like we started the show circling the equator and we’ve been getting progressively closer and closer to the north pole where you can stand in all the time zones at once and theoretically tug bits of the story from any point around the entire loop.

(this is terrible because I’m now picturing Andrew Dabb in a Santa Claus costume running in circles around a candy cane pole shouting HO HO HO and throwing references to the entire series at us like Christmas presents and now I can’t even take myself seriously anymore)

But yes. Who can say where any of this will eventually end.

(oh no now Santa Dabb is pole dancing on the candy cane pole please someone come save me from my own terrible imagination)

Mister Fluffy

Summary: Alphonse was determined to break out of the hospital and achieve the one thing he had dreamed of doing ever since being trapped in the armor. And Lieutenant Hawkeye was going to help him do it. Parental!RizaAl fluff involving a daring escape plan and a very wonderful, magical, fluffy cat.

Read on FFN // Read on AO3

A/N: So this 3,000+ word long fanfic began as an idea I had yesterday that was only meant to be about 300 words long. But then, instead of just crying about Al, I began crying about the beautiful parental relationship he had with Riza. Honestly, Parental!RizaAl (idk if that’s the name or not) is super underrated, and that disappoints me. But I’m determined to have content, even if I have to make it myself, dammit.

This takes place about a week and a half after the Promised Day, before everyone has gotten out of the hospital, and before Al has gotten his hair cut.

I hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Tell me what you think!

“Lieutenant Hawkeye, I need your help,” Alphonse Elric rolled his wheelchair closer to the Lieutenant’s bed, where she sat with a light pink shawl across her shoulders, reading a novel. The wheels of his chair squeaked as he rolled them across the tile floor, and the noise prompted Hawkeye to look up.

“Help with what, Al?” She smiled as she looked at him, and placed the book down by her side to get a better look at Al’s face. She had a habit of doing that, ever since the first time she’d laid her eyes on the boy’s new body. And though Hawkeye was fantastic at hiding her emotions, Al could see her face light up at the sight of his.

“Something more important than anything I’ve ever done before,” Al continued, his face deadly serious as he looked up at the Lieutenant.

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alaskan gothic

* with patience, you can convince the silt down by the river to swallow you up to your knees. it is more difficult to convince it to let you go.

*there are crumbling cabins in the woods. don’t approach them: they are ringed with signs warning that trespassers will  be shot. in the night, sometimes, bangs ring out. it is probably fireworks. probably.

*the salmon drying on the rack has been there for twenty years. the tourists do not need to know this.

* if you climb the rickety ladder in an abandoned dredge up up up you can look down on the rusty gears below. careful! the floor is old. 

* under the candy-cane lights of north pole, santa statues smile with decaying mouths.

* there is an old outhouse in the woods near the ski trails. children say that someone died there. children say many things. it is true, though - the heavy concrete structure should be left alone. the world grows silent and cold around it.

* there are summer days that never end. there are winter days that never begin.

* the tundra is covered in bleached white antlers. moss has grown up around some, digging deep into the bones.

* the polaris building looms over downtown, eleven stories of peeling pink paint and boarded-up windows. it claims to be “looking for love again”. it has not found it. the newspaper calls it empty and decaying, always alone.

* in spring the ice sculptures fill with holes as they melt. they crumble into slush slowly, losing arms first, and then heads.

* at the transfer site, ravens watch you as you heave your trash into the dumpsters. they watch you as you drive past the macdonald’s parking lot, circle above your car, black dots on a blue blue sky.

* the land stretches out on all sides. you can drive for days and not escape. 


     “No way, I’m not taking a picture with some bearded drunk in a mall.”

     “Why would you assume he’s a drunk?”

      “The last one was,” Dean mumbled.

     You’d been just about to leave the mall - the star Dean picked out to top your future Christmas tree swinging in the bag you carried, the metal’s delicate framework of whirls protected by tissue paper and a sturdy silver box - when you spotted the one thing you knew Dean was trying to avoid. The North Pole.

     Or, at least, a big green chair with a Santa look-a-like atop it, surrounded by fake snow and trees, and a tall candy cane pole with a sign done in beautiful calligraphy informing the mall’s patrons this was meant to be the North Pole. Dean had recoiled.

     “Come on, it won’t be that bad! It’s not like you have to sit on his lap and tell him what you want for Christmas, I just want a picture.” Dean frowned at you and shook his head. You reached forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, the bags in your hand hitting the back of his legs. “Please,” you whispered, pushing yourself as close as you dared in this public setting, “I promise I’ll make it up to you when we get back home.”

     Dean raised his eyebrows and soften his scowl. “Oh really?” He shifted his own bags to one hand and slid the other around your waist. “And how do you plan to do that?”

     “It’s a secret, but trust me you’ll like it!”

     Dean seemed to consider for a moment, just barely hiding the smile your effervescent grin created in his own features, then sighed and pulled you closer. “Fine, if it’ll make you happy.”

     “Yay!” You planted a quick kiss on Dean’s lips and grabbed his hand from your waist, dragging him towards the line for Santa’s tiny North Pole. It almost felt like he was pulling you backwards, but you soldiered on anyway.

     The crowd of people waiting for a picture were unsurprisingly young and you received more than a few questioning looks – some more like glares – from the mothers of the kids in line. You ignored them and squeezed Dean’s hand as he stiffened with discomfort.

     “Next!” A cheery elf called, opening the little red and white stripped gate and ushering you and Dean inside.

     Now that you were here you had to admit that you, too, felt uncomfortable – though you wouldn’t tell Dean - trying to take a picture with man in a red suit meant to provide entertainment for children. But you’d begged Dean to do it so you marched forward and sat on the seat beside the mall Santa, feeling unbelievably grateful that his chair was more like a couch and there was plenty of room. Dean stood beside you and didn’t even consider taking the spot on the other side of the bearded man.

     “Say Merry Christmas!” a second elf singsonged.

     You did as instructed and found yourself bolting from your chair as soon as the flash went off. You and Dean collected your picture and paid, thanking the colorfully dressed employees and heading out to the parking lot hand in hand.

     “See, that wasn’t that bad!” you said.

     Dean’s only response was to yank your hat over your eyes.

Day One | Day Two | Day Three | Day Five

Note: I will be posting these stories for 12 days, if you don’t want to be tagged 12 days in a row please tell me, I don’t want to annoy anyone!

*The top two gifs were found on google images and are not mine, the third one I made.*
Tags are under the cut!

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anonymous asked:

How can you spot a fake country girl/boy?

I think the easiest way to spot them is to watch how they treat people. True blue country people give respect to everyone. We go out of our way to help people. It’s actually quite easy to spot fake ones. Look at peoples hands. They can tell you their story. Look at the way they dress and act. Just because you wear camo doesn’t mean you are country. Look at how they carry themselves. Are they stuck up? Are they trying to prove to you they are actually country? My favorite way to explain my answer to you is by quoting a few lyrics from a Craig Campbell song

“ You can talk to me about tractors cowboy boots and pickup trucks. Ol’ cane poles and dirt roads and spittin’ Skoal in a Dixie cup. You can tell me about your Grandpa and how he turned you onto Hank. But If you gotta tell me how country you are, you probably ain’t”

i wish i could have a sick people party w all of you tbh. We could watch movies and drink water or smth
and we could decorate our wheelchairs, canes, braces, IV poles, etc w stickers and stuff and yeah basically i wish that could be a thing


The missing fence pole of the fence at Baker Street is first seen here, in relation to John.  John comes to the door with his cane and knocks.  I like to think of John’s cane as the missing fence pole at Baker Street.  But, not just that, John will come here to lose his cane.  Just like the absent pole at Baker Street, his cane will disappear, too.      

John has the missing piece that Baker Street needs.  He loses his cane and leaves it symbolically here, outside, as part of the fence.  

If John’s cane is a symbol for his erection then the fence could be a symbol for an empty space into which John may put said erection.  Sherlock’s future flat has the would-be place for John’s cane to go into.

It frustrates me to no end, how some other fandoms are so ungrateful and complaining on why their favorite groups didn’t win or aren’t popular enough. Newsflash! After School have done drum routines, tap dancing, cane dance, and pole dancing and still haven’t won anything ever since ‘Because of You’ was released, and they’re also not that popular. If it’s annoying that your favourite group hasn’t won anything with simple choreography and overused concepts or they aren’t as popular, just imagine how Playgirlz/Playboyz feel.

Under the Mistletoe


Send Me ‘🎄’for me to react to finding your muse under the mistletoe        

Darcy was invited to Lucifer’s Christmas Bash. At first she thought about not going, unsure about it. But she figured what the hell, she’s seen Lucifer plenty of times and his club. So she attended. When she arrived the party has pretty much started. Whole place was decorated for the party. Christmas lights, mistletoe’s, and tinsel everywhere. She checked her appearance in the mirror once more.

Her hair was down and style to be slightly wavy, a big of a curl to it.  A rose red dress that came just past her knees. A silver beaded  around her waist, designed into little snowflakes. She saw the dress at a store, buying it just for the party. Sliver snowflake earrings, adored her ears. Taking a deep breath, Darcy let her feet lead her around the party. She spotted Lucifer quickly.

He was under a mistletoe, whether or not that was on purpose, she didn’t know. Darcy walked over to him, pulled him down to her height and kissed him, full on the lips. Not the first kiss they shared. She nibbled on his lip before pulling away. “Mistletoe.” She gestured, pointing up.

“Mmm, “ he sighed returning the surprise kiss, as he slid his arms around Darcy. “Yes, it’s my favorite human tradition.  A happy Saturnalia  to you, my dear.”

He pulled back and gave her a look over, “Well, you do look festive, Are you here to dance in my candy cane poles or just keep me company?”