catching wind

I’m the owner of one, and I want to say this because I’m tired of seeing it specifically used against my people, but when you see news websites on twitter (especially) or any social network post something controversial to you, like saying “Kylie Kardashian created this new unique Hairstyle” and you know deep in your soul it was black people who created it, they do it on purpose. They purposely make that article title in that way (or any other title you know not to be true or you’ll be offended by), they do it purposely so people will catch wind of it and argue about it, make whole threads under it and it’ll make it to Black twitter to reach 10,000-100,000 RTs, hoping for a subtweet. Any one post with a link in it that reaches a minimum of 2000+ retweets that get people offended enough can reach can get earn that single post $500-$2000 in revenue for that one post, in fact if it makes it far enough one post can get someone as much as $5000, and news websites usually get no RTs at all like 10-80, so basically you give them their salary in one post. But of course the poster themselves aren’t ignorant to what they’re doing, and black twitter or even allies want to fight against it to prevent people from seeing a lie. so they make a post that wasn’t going to viral in the first place viral. Just here to say the best thing to do to fight that is simply instead of subtweeting/replying them is to take a screenshot whatever their post was, (and make whatever thread you want on your own account) and post it on your own account and make whatever comment you want about it, it’ll still get the 1000s of tweets it gets, but whoever posted it gets ZERO amount of money and still get ALL the hate. So if you know any twitter famous/any social network people who be subtweeting/replying controversial let them know

Edit:

my mans

they’re using ya’ll lmao, they’re not stupid. You think you’re putting them down and dragging them but this is plotted to finesse you, This is straight $1000s of dollars you given them, they’re not ignorant to it, they know. Trust me I use the same tactics for other (non-problematic) articles. Tell people you know to just screenshot, otherwise the sharing of the article places their links to be seen and clicked by 100s of thousands which brings unbelievable ad revenue to them.

10

Patso Dimitrov is on a roll. The designer has made a habit of turning classic rap album covers into basketball jerseys, and they’re always beautiful. We even asked him to make a few more after catching wind of the first round, and today Patso hit us up with a fresh crop of designs.

This time, Patso flipped albums by A Tribe Called Quest, Dr. Dre, Wu-Tang Clan, Nas, N.W.A., Mobb Deep, and Outkast.

A definitive timeline of Seventeen’s AL1 story

Don’t know why I’m starting this past 9pm when I have school tomorrow but due to an anxious bout (which has lasted for about two months) I’ve learnt that when inspiration hits, I just got to run with it, or should I say bat with it, amirite? (we’ll get to that later on)  LETS BEGIN.

Originally posted by yunchanpai

Firstly we have to understand the vague points of time the music videos have taken place in. At first I thought that from Adore U to Boom Boom, all of the comebacks were on an alternate timeline to don’t wanna cry, however seventeen has stated that we are in fact wrong and that this all in the same timeline.

Adore U’ (is a funky pop song-) shows a crush a boy has on someone, but is inexperienced and marks it down to adoration rather than affection, as to not confront their own feelings. In this we can see an innocent fear of not knowing what to really say to someone and knowing the right words to express what you’re feeling. ‘Mansae’ is a bit different, although the schoolboy concept would have fit the song adore u, the lyrics are a bit different. It’s almost as if the boy has accepted the crush as what it is , liking someone, however instead of confessing they act immature (like schoolboys) and are jealous instead. ‘Pretty U’ is a bit different and shows some development. It has a musical theatre style and shows some development, they’ve actually confessed their feelings. Here’s when things get a bit rocky. ‘Very Nice’ is probably one of the most impactful songs ‘I’ve heard from seventeen. Although the lyrics describe a first date, the music video is a bit different. Whenever one of the boys starts to feel something for the girl, their heart explodes. It’s almost as though they can’t actually handle it . This is later reinforced in ‘Boom Boom’ where they claim that everything is because of the love interest . Up until this point the songs seem pretty normal, light hearted and tells the story of someone’s first romance. Although it seems unrequited and unresponsive, the main character seems happy, even with the the one-sidedness of it all.

You see, this is what makes me suspicious. Back in their seventeen project days, they said quite a few times how they didn’t want to be regular idols and they wanted to be artists instead, ones who worked very closely with the production of the songs and choreography. This is what makes everything seem off to me. We’ll come back to this later on.

After Boom Boom is when I think things get really weird. At this point in time is where Seventeen as a group itself gains momentum and popularity, being put to such a high standard of even getting to be put in ‘EBS’ with Exo and Bts. This almost seems to pressure them even more. It was hard enough coming from a company which didn’t have a lot of money, but now that they were quite popular, it was even harder being able to maintain that. This is when I think chapter 0.5 happens, just before don’t wanna cry. As we’ve seen in the unit songs, this is a side of seventeen we’ve never seen before. 

Although change up is upbeat and catchy, the lyrics seem quite desperate. It’s almost as though the leaders are trying to prove themselves, saying that others wouldn’t understand what they had been doing and how had it is. Change up actually means a pitch in baseball, where the pitcher moves fast but the ball is significantly slower to confuse the batter.Furthermore, in ‘trauma’ the hip hop unit all speak about the mental blocks they’ve had, all one individual room only to realise they’re all facing it together. Lilli Yabbay could actually be symbolic of death as it’s used in funerals for many cultures. In the music video, we can see how the music had brought them to life, but as soon as it ended they were on the floor, much like everyone around.This could refer to people sleeping on the performance unit, or more logically, the fear of having people be dissatisfied or not being able to truly express what they want to say before their fans part with them. 

BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES THIS POST BECAUSE THEY GET BORED, LEMME JUST SUMMARISE BEFORE THE VOCAL UNIT SONG DROPS.

I feel like this entire time we’ve though about this boy falls in love story as a basic romance and nothing more. The closer you look, maybe it could refer to their dream. Back when they looked adoringly at their favourite singers up on that stage. Back in their school days, holding a trainee title but no guarantees. Pretty U could be when they realised that they knew debut was the only option for them . Aju Nice is their debut, a point of excitement, we can see their change from mansae in the use of their female leads. Before they would get discouraged with the lack of response from the girl (which could be the lack of attention from the public) but when in very nice we can see how they continue to work for her attention and to see some emotion, running towards her at the end even after their metaphorical downfalls. Boom Boom is when they realise that hard work does pay off, but their B-side Fast Pace shows us how they miss the freedom they had before people really knew who they were.

Gonna continue this when I catch wind of the vocal unit. This took me an hour and 11 minutes, gosh I’m slow. Goodnight 

Part One | Part Two coming soon

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
—  H. Jackson Brown Jr., P.S. I Love You
Five Times Tony Stark Was a Good Dad (And One Time He Wasn’t)

So, I’m obsessed with the whole idea that Peter is Tony’s unofficial son and it’s only supported by Tony’s appearance in Spider-Man Homecoming, so I came up with this series, which is in the works and also posted on my AO3 account. If you like it or have any suggestions as to where I should take this, please don’t hesitate to let me know! Also, forgive any spelling errors or mistakes, I finished this at three in the morning one night and I was too lazy to go back and fix them. Enjoy!

Read Part 2 here

~~~~~~

Tony swore when he was twelve years old that he would never be a father. He remembered that moment clearly, like it had just happened a day ago, not well over thirty years ago. He was in his room, his father still screaming in a drunken rage at his mother over something Tony did, his anger and disappointment following Tony down the hallway of their New York penthouse apartment. He remembered sitting on the cold tile floor of his room, head rest against the heavy wooden door that was doing nothing to muffle his father’s harsh words.

His father was angry, Tony had gotten kicked out of his third private school on the East Coast, the letter expulsion still clutched in his father’s harsh grasp. He wasn’t sure if he had ever seen his father this furious before and Tony knew that the only thing that saved him from taking a glass full of scotch to the face was his mother’s presence in the room. Maria Stark might’ve been docile about a lot of things, but Howard taking his rage out on Tony physically, that would never fly in this house hold.

Tears of anger and embarrassment welled in Tony’s eyes and he wiped them away furiously, refusing to waste anymore energy on that man that he was forced to acknowledge as his father. No matter what Tony did, it was never enough to please Howard Stark. He made his first prototype of an arch reactor at the age of six, Howard wanted it by age five. Tony skipped three grades, Howard wanted him to skip four. Tony, despite his age, was offered a spot at MIT and if Howard had it his way? He would’ve been there a year ago. No matter how much Tony achieved, how many goals he surpassed, he always came up short in Howard’s eyes. Being the constant source of Howard’s disappointment and ire made Tony wonder if he would ever succeed in his father’s eyes, if his dad would ever clap him on the back and say “I’m proud of you, son.”

He wondered, some nights, when he’d lie awake in his too big bed in his too big room in his too big house, if his father had ever wanted children, had wanted Tony.

The thought crossed his mid countless of times, until it latched onto his cerebral cortex and sat there, like the worst form of cancer that had no possible cure.

And while Tony sat there, head resting tiredly against the warm wood, Howard’s voice still echoing down the long hallway, that cancer spread until it proved fatal.

He never wanted his children to feel like this.

Unwanted

Worthless

A complete and utter failure.

Tony was self-aware enough to know that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, that human nature was a pattern and patterns were destined to repeat themselves, without fail. Anger and rage and disappointment were the only form of affection Tony was used to getting to his father. His father was a cold man, always keeping Tony at a distance that no matter how hard he tried, Tony could never quite breach.

And Tony knew, no matter how hard he tried, he would always end up like his father.

~~~~~~~

Peter Parker came into his life unexpectedly and despite popular opinion, unplanned. He’d been keep tabs on the Spider-Kid since the kid popped up on his radar a few months ago, clad in that god awful homemade leotard/hoodie contraption and flying around Queens on his webs with all the grace of a child learning to walk for the first time. Tony never planned to actually meet the kid behind the mask or reaching out to the flying kid in his homemade costume, but when the Avengers disbanded and the only family Tony had ever known was decreasing in numbers, he needed back up.

Looking back, his intentions were purely selfish and it shamed him to admit, when he dropped the kid back off in his sketchy neighborhood in Queens with the new suit he’d made him, he never had any intention of keeping in contact with the kid.

To absolve himself from the guilt, he appointed Happy as his chaperone and threw himself into creating new legs for Rhodey, another way to attempting to soothe ache of guilt that had settled along with the shrapnel, in his battered heart.

He underestimated Peter, who was pushy and persistent and finally, after three months, Happy threw his phone at Tony and told him to call the kid. That night, Tony, with a glass of scotch in hand, filtered through the hundreds of voicemails Peter had left Happy—anecdotes of his daily patrols, everything from helping old ladies cross the street, stopping bike thieves to getting cats out of trees. Each story was told with excruciating detail, in that excited ramble the kid got whenever he was particularly enthused about something and warmth settled around Tony’s heart, fond amusement making his lips curl into his first genuine smile in months.

It took Tony another week to reach out to the kid, but he did and that’s how he found himself, in one of his more flashier cars, sitting outside of Peter’s school. He ignored the gawking, the stunned stares and the whispers of the students filtering out of the school, his eyes scanning the crowd before they landed on a familiar head of messy hair.

Peter was talking excitedly to the chubby, dark haired Asian kid by his side, who was nodding along to everything Peter said with a look of pure wonder on his face and Tony wondered briefly if his little friend knew that his BFF moonlighted as a super-hero in spandex at night.

Another kid appeared by Peter’s side and Tony watched as Peter visibly tensed and tried to skirt around the kid, but the kid threw a hand out and stopped Peter in his tracks.

The cocky grin that appeared on the kid’s face was all too familiar to Tony and before he could even second guess himself, he was out of his car and walking towards the three boys, ignoring the murmurs coming from the crowd.

“—when are you gonna stop lying about your internship with Tony Stark, Penis Parker? There’s no way someone like Tony Stark would ever take on a charity case like you—“

Peter looked up when he heard the murmuring crowd fall to a hush and his gaze landed on Tony. The amount of surprise in the kid’s features made Tony’s gut clench that in no way had to do with the greasy cheeseburger he ate on the way over here.

“M-Mr. Stark, what, uh, what are you doing here?” Peter stammered, flicking his gaze back to would be bully in front of him.

“Yeah, Parker, like I’m gonna fall for that—

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” Tony interrupted, smirking in satisfaction when the kid that was giving Peter a hard time, froze, turning his disbelieving eyes on to Tony.

“Y-You-You’re Tony Stark.” He said faintly, his voice shaking.

Tony smirked, “Astute observation and you are?”

The kid gulped, his adams apple bobbing harshly, “F-Flash Thompson.”

“Makes sense,” Tony said with a nod of his head, looking the kid up and down, “I’d bully someone too, if my parents named me after the lamest superhero to ever grace the pages of a comic book, overcompensation and all that,” Tony said thoughtfully, “especially with your perceived fixation on the male genitalia. Tell me, did it take you a while to come up with something that juvenile or did you have someone equally as childish think it up for you? Because I would think someone with—and I’m assuming here, so correct me if my deductive reasoning skills are off—a high level of intelligence would come up with something a little bit more creative than ‘Penis Parker’.”

By the time Tony was done, the crowd around him was snickering and the kid in front of him looked like he wanted nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow him whole, if such things were possible.

Tony smiled, but there was nothing nice about, “Now, if I ever catch wind of you so much as looking in Peter’s direction again and trust me, kid, I’ve got my ways, I have no issue siccing my AI on all your school records and wreaking havoc on your future plans for any Ivy League schools, you reading me kid?”

Flash nodded so vigorously he resembled a bobble head, “Y-Yes, Sir.”

Tony smiled, this one much more kind than the last, “Good, I’m glad we could reach an understanding, now running along so I can talk to my intern here without your sorry excuse for cologne clouding my senses, seriously kid less is more.”

Flash tucked his proverbial tail between his legs and pushed through the crowd of people that were now openly laughing, losing interest in Tony in favor of chasing after Flash to mock him.

Tony shouldn’t feel as proud as he did, but he knew what it was like to be bullied and he’d be damned if his kid—ahem, someone like Peter had to deal with someone as childish as Flash Thompson every day and it was within his power to do something about it. Like kid didn’t already have enough to deal with as it was.

He turned back to see a dumbfounded Peter and his equally as flabbergasted friend.

“That was—” Peter began, but seemed to be at a loss for words, shaking his head in disbelief.

His friend, however, didn’t seem to have that particular problem.

“—AWESOME!” His friend said excitedly, “oh man did you see Flash’s face? Dude, this is greatest thing to ever happen to me. Tony Stark just verbally assaulted Flash, Jesus dude, how is this your life? If you ever want to trade, even if it’s just for a day, I’m totally down—“

Ned.” Peter muttered, elbowing him roughly, giving a rough jerk of his head in Tony’s direction. He flicked his apologetic gaze over to Tony, who simply rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny the amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Ned followed his gaze and flushed, “Right, sorry.”

Peter closed his eyes for a moment and Tony could see the kid physically trying to fight off his embarrassment and couldn’t help but chuckle.

Peter’s eyes snapped open at the sound and the surprise and confusion from earlier was back, “Mr. Stark, what are you doing here? At my school? Is everything okay? Is there a—“ Peter glanced around in a sad attempt at nonchalance and lowered his voice to an equally as sad attempt at a whisper, “—mission?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that was making Tony wonder if the kid had a weird twitch he’d never noticed before.

Tony glanced over at Ned quickly, going back to his original curiosity of how much the kid actually knew about his arachnid friend here, but Ned seemed to catch on to Tony’s unasked question.

“Don’t worry Mr. Stark, sir, I’m Peter’s Guy In The Chair.” Ned answered helpfully, giving him a bright smile.

Tony glanced back over at Peter with a raised eyebrow, who simply muttered “dude” in an exasperated tone, shaking his head before returning his attention to Tony, “Ned knows.”

“Oh, well, in that case, no, there is no…mission,” Tony said in a mock whisper, making Peter flush, “I’m working on a new Iron Man suit and I need to pick your brain for some ideas on upgrades, figured I’d swing by and pick you up from school today.”

Peter’s eyes widened and Ned seemed torn between fainting or peeing himself from excitement.

“You get to touch the Iron Man suit?!” He squeaked, turning his wide-eyed gaze over to Peter, who only gave Ned a look, who bit his lip sheepishly, but looked like he was ready to explode from the level of his enthusiasm.

Peter ignored him, “I was supposed to help Ned finish the lego Death Star today, we were supposed to do it yesterday, but I uh, kinda got caught up on patrol.” Peter gave Tony a guilty shrug of his shoulders.

“So let me get this straight,” Tony said slowly, “you’re turning down quality time in my personal lab to build a lego Death Star with Ned over here?”

Peter’s eyes had lit up at the mentions of Tony’s lab, but with quick glance at a wide eyed Ned, who seemed to be stuck on the fact that Tony Stark said his name, his excitement dimmed. But Peter was loyal, almost to a fault, and nodded resolutely.

Tony, seemingly at a loss for words, just stood there, shellshocked at being told no, by a fifteen year old kid at that. A small part of Tony, the one that was actually looking forward to hanging out with the kid, was slightly hurt at the rejection.

Ned, who’d been watching the entire scene with wide eyes, was more observant than he looked and seemed to sense Peter’s indecision and Tony’s disappointment, because he gave his friend a bright smile, “Dude, we can finish the Death Star anytime and besides, my mom wanted me home tonight to help her with something, so I’m booked, raincheck?” He offered.

Peter glanced at Ned then at Tony and then back to Ned, “Um, sure Ned, no problem.”

Ned gave him a smile and then turning his attention back to Tony, his friendly smiled turned a bit more to the manic grin that most people wore in Tony’s presence, “It was really nice to meet you Mr. Stark.”

He offered Peter a fist bump, who returned it, before he started walking down the side walk, towards, what Tony assumed, was home.

Turning his attention back to the kid, he gave him a smile, “Good good, now we should probably be on our way if we want to avoid traffic. Now, as far as suit upgrades go, I was thinking of up-ing the suit’s repulsers a bit—hey, kid, you coming?” Tony asked from his position on the driver’s side, raising an eyebrow at Peter, who was still standing on the side walk. Tony followed his gaze and saw Ned still making his way down the sidewalk and chancing a glance back at Peter, who was still watching him with big, guilty eyes, he sighed.

The things I do for you, kid, Tony thought to himself.

“Hey, Ned,” Tony shouted, making the kid pause and turn around, looking to Peter, who was watching Tony with the beginnings of a smile, then back to Tony curiously, “would you like to join us? There’s plenty of room in the lab for three people.”

Even from a few yards away, Tony could see the kid’s eyes widen in surprise before he hustled his way back to an equally excited Peter, who shot him a grateful look.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.” He said quietly, giving him a bright smile.

And Tony couldn’t help but smile back, “You’re welcome, kiddo,” eyeing a panting Ned warily, “make sure he doesn’t do anything…weird, okay? I don’t mind opening my lab to him but there was something in his eyes when I was talking about the Iron Man suit that made me decidedly uncomfortable.”

Peter gave a breathy laugh, “Don’t worry, Mr. Stark, Ned’s cool.”

Ned, who had come to a slightly sweaty stop in from them, looked up at Tony with wide eyes, “Can I try on the Iron Man helmet?”

“Dude.”

~~~~~~~~~

Tony spent the majority of their time in lab just watching Peter and Ned run around like kids in a candy store—picking things up, playing with the robots—DUM-E taking a special liking to Peter, who, Tony was pleased to see, treated him like a human, thanking him when he brought them water from the stocked fridge and smiling when DUM-E beeped happily in return—and played with all the gadgets laying around.

Tony, albeit wearily, let them try on one of the Iron Man helmets from one of his earlier models and explained to them how the suit worked, both of them hanging on to his every word. He showed them the blue prints for his newest model, listening to their suggestions and even writing a few them down to look into later.

Ned, Tony found out, was rather intelligent with computers. He gave him one of his old security systems and watched with genuine interest as the kid hacked into the the files with ease and recoded the entire system in a matter of minutes.

When Tony looked it over, he let out a grunt of an approval, “Nice work, kid.”

Ned all but fainted at Tony’s praise.

The hours slipped by and F.R.I.D.A.Y. being the helpful AI that she is, had ordered pizzas without Tony even having to ask and had them sent to the kitchen, alerting them when they had arrived. Tony led them up to the kitchen, watching with thinly veiled amusement as they both took in every new surrounding with the same amount of interest they had shown in the lab.

Tony continued to observe them as they tore into the pizza like they hadn’t eaten in days and taking a quick glance at the clock, he realized with a flash of guilt, that they had been down in the lab for over four hours and the last time they had probably eaten something would’ve been well over seven or eight hours ago.

It was nice, Tony deiced, listening to their mindless chatter and what was especially nice, was seeing how at ease Peter was with his friend, looking like a true fifteen year old with his friend over to his house on a school night, like he didn’t have super powers, like he didn’t dress up in tight spandex and web his way through Queens and fight crime at night while trying to balance a normal life.

The thought nagged at Tony for the rest of dinner and as he rode silently with them in the backseat while Happy drove them all to Ned’s apartment first, who still looked like he couldn’t believe today was real, thanking Tony breathlessly for the best day of his life and telling Peter he’d see him tomorrow at school.

Peter watched his friend with a small, amused smile and when they got to Peter’s apartment building, Tony glanced over at the kid, the smile still had yet to leave his face.

“Alright kid, this is your stop,” Tony said, making a move to undo his seatbelt, but the kid’s hesitant voice made him pause.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter said softly, clearing his throat, “I uh, just wanted to thank you, you know for well, everything,” the kid breathed, smiling up at him so sincerely that it made Tony’s chest ache in the best sort of way, “today was amazing and I really appreciate you inviting Ned along with us, he really looks up to you, you know? And I haven’t really been able to spend much time with him since, y’know, the whole Spider-Man thing.”

The kid paused before continuing on in a softer voice, “And about Flash, I really, really don’t know how to thank you for that,” he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed, “it’s kind of funny, in a way, I’m a sort of super-hero and I can’t even stand up to a bully—“

Tony’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the kid’s self-deprecation, “Look, kid, I’m no stranger to bullies,” he began, sighing heavily, “I had my fair share of them when I was in school and even in college. I learned that while you may no be able to physically fight someone, you can always fight them with words and sometimes, words can hurt more than your fists. All I did was give that Flash kid a taste of his own medicine and hopefully, got him off your case.”

Peter was silent for a moment, considering Tony’s words before giving him another appreciative smile, “I don’t think Flash will be messing with me anytime soon, but still, thank you,” Peter’s smile turned shy, “you’re the first adult, other than May, to stand up for me and I really appreciate it, so thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“Call me Tony,” Tony offered after a beat of silence, unsure of how to respond to such a statement.

Whatever he was trying to say, the kid got, because he smiled brightly and Tony, suddenly feeling awkward at the unusual sentimental moment, busied himself with unbuckling his seatbelt, ignoring the warmth in his chest.

He reached around the kid to open the door for him and Peter, rather than getting out, just like last time, he reached up and wrapped his arms around Tony, thinking he was hugging him

“This um, wasn’t a hug,” Tony began awkwardly, “I’m just getting the door for you.”

However, before the kid could pull away, Tony wrapped his arms around him and gave him a quick, but firm squeeze.

Peter gave him another smile before wishing Tony and Happy a goodnight,  getting out of the car and making his way up towards his apartment. Tony debated on his next move, mulling it over quickly and before the kid could get too far, he found himself making a snap decision and rolling down he window.

“Hey, Underoos,” Tony started, slightly unsure when the kid turned around and looked at Tony with hopeful eyes.

“Same time, same place tomorrow?” He said after a moment of silence, the kid’s answering grin melting away any self doubt before it could begin.

“Sure Mr.Stark—Tony,” Peter stuttered excitedly, “sounds great!”

Tony watched the kid go with a satisfied smiled, so caught up in his happy little pseudo-family moment that he almost didn’t hear his phone ring.

Not even bothering to glance at the caller I.D., he answered it with a smooth, “Stark.”

“Tony?! What the hell we’re you thinking going to a school and threatening a minor, A MINOR—“

Shit.

~~~~~

Should I continue? Please let me know :)

How I made $2000 off a meth dealer.

A few years ago I was married to a degenerate tweeker (she wasn’t originally like that, but y'know, meth does what meth does).

I kept interfering with her tweeker lifestyle trying to get her treatment etc and she rewarded my efforts with a restraining order (lied, said I beat her and other overly dramatic stuff).

So, I get kicked out of my place and end up in a studio apartment with nothing but my toothbrush and the clothes I was wearing.

One of her great plans was to get a front for a ton of dope using EVERYTHING OF VALUE WE OWN as collateral.

Drug dealer literally takes everything and puts it in a storage unit somewhere in town. Wife plans to stomp on the dope, sell it and by the weekend be a millionaire (tweeker logic).

Of course, she fucks off the plan and ends up just doing the dope so now all our expensive stuff is in the wind.

I try to work out something with POS drug dealer but he wanted an absurd amount of payback, plus I made some threatening comments he didn’t appreciate so negotiations stalled.

Eventually, I catch wind that he got locked up and that some friends took all HIS property and put it in storage for safekeeping until he got out.

I hit every storage place in town with my story and his picture hoping to catch some kind of break.

Eventually, I find the place. Owner tells me that the unit is going up for auction the next weekend for non-payment. He tells me if I just pay the 3 months back rent that he’d write it up as I won the auction and I can have the unit.

$320 gets slapped on the counter and we go drill the lock.

All my stuff is there! And, whaddaya know, now I own all his stuff free and clear.

And, cuz I’m a nice guy, I dug out all the personal irreplaceable stuff (old photos, important documents, etc), boxed them up and gave them to his mom (found her on Facebook).

Actually made quite a bit of money off the deal selling his shit on Craigslist (came out about $2000 in the black on the deal).

Divorced now, have all my stuff and am happy….

anonymous asked:

Hey! If you're still taking prompts, could you write about neil and Andrew having a conversation about Neil's past? Like the stuff he had to do to survive and the stuff he went through with the worlds shittiest parents? Also I'm pretty sure neil has killed people like it makes complete sense so maybe andreil talking about that?

There’s a band of pale blue light nipping at the tops of the trees and sharpening the silhouettes of the houses, but everything else is fresh and dark. Andrew smokes with the pack clenched in his fist, the cherry of the cigarette winking at the street lamps winking at the orange moon.

Their front porch isn’t like the rush of the rooftop, but he can get that same jitter of fear from Neil nowadays, and he’s more portable. He’d left him knotted in the bedsheets an hour ago, and knowing he’s inside somewhere at his back is burning him up. Andrew inhales and focuses on the exhale, the way the smoke still tries to hurt him when it should’ve given up. He likes that nicotine doesn’t leave him alone.

Neil slips out the front door and lets the screen door clatter, and Andrew knows that he’s upset before he sits down two steps below Andrew, holding his own head.

He doesn’t ask; just smokes fervently. The moon bobs its head sympathetically, wind catches the smoke and breaks it over Neil’s head like water on rocks.

It occurs to Andrew that Neil isn’t going to start this conversation, because he likes to think things through on his own, solve them wrong, and tell Andrew about his mistakes later. He’s insufferably convinced of his own problem-solving abilities, then obsessed with the mechanism of his own missteps.

“What?” Andrew asks impatiently. He flicks ash from his cigarette and holds it out in front of Neil’s face. Neil sidles through his own tangled thinking for long enough to glance up. He leans forward and sucks the smoke from between Andrew’s fingers.

When he looks away, gusting smoke from his open mouth, he says, “Matt called. We fought.”

You fought,” Andrew guesses.

Neil looks agitated, blue in the choked light, eyes black and furious. “He was being unfair. He keeps trying to tell me what’s right or wrong lately, because he thinks I’ve been— been deprived, like my experiences were outside of humanity, or morality, and it’s so— condescending.”

“You’re only realizing this now? All of the foxes are condescending. It is the only way they can avoid their own failure.”

“This was different,” Neil says, shaking his head. “I can tell when they’re saying things because they want to see my reaction, and this wasn’t that. He meant what he was saying.”

“And what was that?”

Neil goes gagged silent. He shifts backwards up to Andrew’s stair without looking at him, settling into the groove worn into the wood.

“That killing someone makes you a monster. That murder is the worst thing you can do to a person.”

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Makeup Marichat May, Day 11. Age-up Marinette!

Title: Change
Word Count: 1,934

It’d been a while since he really saw her last. After they’d gone off to university, he’d had a hectic schedule that didn’t allow him much time to socialize with his friends from middle school or high school. Plus, with Nino away in Spain, and Alya’s web journalism internship they hardly had a chance to all get together.

Seeing her now, sitting on her balcony quietly consumed in sketching, Chat Noir was hit with an overwhelming wave of nostalgia.

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My Favorite Songs for the Signs

Some of my personal favorites! Hopefully there will be a few in here that you guys haven’t heard yet 💁 

check your moon sign too! 

Aries: “Pursuit of Happiness” by Kid Cudi (ft. MGMT & Ratatat)

“I’m on the pursuit of happiness.
And I know everything that shine ain’t always gonna be gold.
I’ll be fine once I get it.
I’ll be good.”

Taurus: “Smooth” by Santana (ft. Rob Thomas)

“And it’s just like the ocean under the moon
Oh, it’s the same as the emotion that I get from you
You got the kind of lovin’ that can be so smooth, yeah
Give me your heart, make it real or else forget about it.”

Gemini: “D.A.N.C.E.” by Justice 

“The way you move is a mystery
Do the dance
You’re always there for music and me
Do the dance.”

Cancer: “Young Folks” by Peter Bjorn & John 

“Usually when things have gone this far, people tend to disappear
No one will surprise me unless you do
I can tell there’s something goin’ on, hours seems to disappear
Everyone is leaving, I’m still with you.”

Leo:Runaway (U & I)” by Galantis 

"Think I can fly, think I can fly when I’m with you
My arms are wide, catching fire as the wind blows
I know that I’m rich enough for pride,
I see a billion dollars in your eyes.”

Virgo: “Middle” by DJ Snake (ft. Bipolar Sunshine)

“Staring at two different views on your window ledge
Coffee is going cold, it’s like time froze
There you go wishing, floating down our wishing well
It’s like I’m always causing problems, causing hell.”

Libra: “Trndsttr” (ft. M. Maggie) [Lucian Remix]

"Fire when the strobe hits you
Bet you’re looking for something new
Staring off across the room
Bet I’m a trendsetter, too.”

Scorpio: “Stop the World I Wanna Get Off With You” by Arctic Monkeys

“Well I know that getting you alone isn’t easy to do.
With the exception of you I dislike everyone in the room.
And I don’t wanna lie, but I don’t wanna tell you the truth.
Get the sense that you’re on the move.”

Sagittarius: “Lost” by Frank Ocean

"Girl you know you’re lost
Lost in the thrill of it all
Miami, Amsterdam
Tokyo, Spain, lost.”

Capricorn: “The Less I Know the Better” by Tame Impala 

"Oh my love, can’t you see yourself by my side
No surprise when you’re on his shoulder like every night
Oh my love, can’t you see that you’re on my mind
Don’t suppose we could convince your lover to change his mind.”

Aquarius: “I’m Amazed” by My Morning Jacket

"I’m amazed at all that has been
I’m amazed at all that will be
I’m amazed at the tv stations
I’m amazed what they want me to believe.”

Pisces:Hong Kong” by Gorillaz 

“You swallow me
I’m a pill on your tongue
Here on the nineteenth floor
The neon lights make me come.”

-Admin L

They call you Magpie, occasionally— Bloodhound more recently— and you like to collect things.

You’ve always been careful about it, of course— learning where, if they exist at all, the lost and founds are, how to stumble across the people around who have the uncanny ability to know everyone and everything that matters to them, the places locals always check for items gone adrift— and you’ve heard strange things about EU, even before you actually arrived. Nothing concrete, nothing substantial, but enough on the forums and ratemyprofessors and hidden in deep corners of the web that you take extra care this time before continuing your finding (and returning, which is, admittedly, more of an entertaining challenge).

So instead of picking up the curiosities or collecting the feathers and bits and baubles, you watch, as you always do, and you’re thorough, as you always are. It takes some months and some seeing things you perhaps shouldn’t have and some time spent imagining solutions you likely couldn’t spare, but when all is said and done you think you’re ready to begin.

When you take the feathers, you leave behind piles of birdseed (your cockatiel’s favorite, and millet too when the plumage is especially colorful). When you find bottle caps, you bring them to the fountain and throw them in the highest tier; for the koi in the pond and their gasping mouths, you bring stories (words, the important thing is the words) whispered in the dead of night and shut up in the pretty green bottles left for you on the sidewalk. You find marbles in your pockets, bright as bubbles catching the sun, and make earrings out of them using the delicate wire you’re given every time you leave interestingly-shaped driftwood in that hole beside the dumpster (the earrings you keep, and sometimes give away to classmates worried about getting caught (or getting Caught, depending) in the rain). You give poetry and songs (whatever’s in your head, be it Bon Jovi for a week, the lines of that play you’re struggling with, or the rhymes that occasionally overtake your thoughts) to the crows and the trees and they give you nothing, but nor do they take.

The squirrels you know better than to deal with. A senior warned you (indirectly, eyes straight ahead as you both walked along), and when you accidentally leave your doodle notebook under the tree, you are left shaking pine needles out of your hair for weeks (it does smell nice, to be fair).

You never take found things without giving in return, and never give without expecting to leave empty-handed. It is a kindness, all of it, and you treasure the thanks you get (you do not always get thanked, and you do not mind).

With the lost things, you tread more carefully. You peek at them from the corner of your eye and wait a day (sometimes two, sometimes three, depending on how hard it is to only cast a glance) in order to see if the item is claimed; eventually (reluctantly, sometimes, but you do know how to help lost things find their homes, and you don’t want to leave them), you pick them up.

If it’s made of anything shiny, you leave it by the crows, rattling off as many interwoven lines of poetry you can cobble together about guarding and glittering, returning and finding, dropping off folded tinfoil sculptures as well (the crows have never given you anything back, but nor has anything been taken, and so you figure it’s fair they keep whatever they feel they’re owed). Though you only intend for them to keep watch and draw attention (whenever something pretty is misplaced, everyone looks at them), you begin to leave them your little aluminum figures whenever you catch wind of anything (or anyone) disappearing as a good luck charm, fond of how they watch and listen and protect what’s them and theirs. It is meant to be an idiosyncrasy, but you start to notice that they gather around the places those lost things turn up. You don’t give thanks and you pick up no more of their feathers than usual. When something is returned you make sure those involved discover a sudden and temporary interest in reading classic poems aloud.

When it’s anything that seems personal (or urgent), you hunt It down; a sigil that looks like an abstract swirl or perhaps an eye or perhaps a hand. Usually someone’s wearing it, frequently it’s purple, and always it’s on the softest-looking piece of fabric around; you drop the item nearby, wrapped in pairs of the warmest socks you can get on short notice, and grin before moving along. After the third time, when you get pins and needles walking away, you also start folding paper flowers out of the lists you keep of what you pick up where (and, if applicable, what you left in return). You leave those stuffed inside the socks, and notice that in certain places nothing turns up anymore (you do not blame It for being more skilled than you).

When it’s just an ordinary lost thing, you bury it, and leave a circle of pebbles above; later, you place a crow’s feather in the middle as well. You check back in a week and usually it’s gone. If it’s still there in two, you put it in the school’s lost and found, and at that point, more often than not, you later end up discovering it in your room.

You begin to get a reputation.

You hope, perhaps (probably) vainly, that it will do you no harm, and that you will not become one of the lost things you are so fond of.

You do what you can to keep safe; you owe no one a thing, and there are quite a few that owe you (and owe you very much).

You like to collect things, but you don’t collect debts. You do much freely, and you find value in kindnesses, but you value yourself, of course, most of all.

You hope you will not become lost, one way or another. You try to remember that, before, your help was freely given and the debts you were owed forgiven more often than not. You hope your (what-started-out-as-)innocent hobby will do you no harm.

You begin to get a reputation.

x

reyes-vdal  asked:

if you still have your requests open, maybe companions react to Sole kissing them in order to keep quiet around enemies? maybe romanced companions too? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) but fantastic blog btw c:

Cait: “Why don’t you shut your damn-” Sole cuts her off mid-hiss, stifling the angry whisper so the passing enemies don’t catch wind of her theatrics. Cait’s caught off-guard, and briefly considers throwing Sole off just out of spite. But, Sole’s lips are awfully nice. Tossing them into battle would just be rude. So, grudgingly, Cait lets herself be silenced, even returning the kiss near the end.

Codsworth: “Ah… Mx. Sole, I appreciate the intent, but putting your mouth on my speaker will not actually muffle the sounds. The reverberation inside my torso will-” A barrage of gunfire pelts the cover to their side. “I see that perhaps now was not the best time to correct you.”

Curie: Her squeak is adorable to say the least, and she turns very still, her hands curling into her pants, or the dirt if they’re lying on soft ground. Sole’s looking around her, keeping an eye on the enemies, but Curie is transfixed, baffled by this strange act of “kissing.” Sole has to gently pull away when she gets a little too distracted by experimenting with it.

Danse: The paladin isn’t mouthy at the best of times, but he must have been talking just a little too loud for Sole to hush him up just then. He doesn’t say anything. His cheeks flame red and he goes very still, thinking that he must be imagining what Sole just did. He’s almost thankful when the shooting starts, as it allows him to hide the burning color in his face.

Deacon: He pulls away, startled. The sound of his movement gives them away, and the pair have to scramble to fight off the baddies. Sole apologizes sheepishly, and Deacon waves them off with a embarrassed chuckle. “Sure, sure. I get what you were going for, and I know I’m irresistible-” He flashes finger guns at them. “-but you have to give me a little warning. Thanks.”

Dogmeat: He goes still, tail pointed up with Sole’s hands on his face and their lips on his nose. His ears point straight up, but he’s as quiet as can be. He’s a very good boy, and gets rewarded with headpats when the enemies pass. 

Hancock: Whatever he was saying becomes a pleased hum when Sole’s lips meet his. Without missing a beat, he returns the kiss, catching Sole off-guard, but not in a bad way. The ghoul might not have much lip left, but he knows how to use what he’s got. Poor Sole ends up being seduced after that. They should know better than to get a lecherous mayor in the mood.

Nick Valentine: He’s shocked. This is not something he’s had to deal with for a long time, though he can’t say he hasn’t thought about it. His hands flail for a minute, ghosting over Sole’s body before awkwardly resting on their hips. He feels like a schoolboy seeing his first boob all over again. Though, if Sole likes the flabbergasted look on his face, he could seeing a lot more than that later.

MacCready: Hot damn. He’s allowed to swear in his head, right? For a moment, he curses himself for not brushing his teeth yesterday. He never brushes his teeth, but he always thinks he will. And he should have done it yesterday. Now he just has to savor the feeling of Sole’s mouth until they pull away and he has to shoot some bastards with a tent in his jeans.

Piper: Her cheeks tint a pretty shade of pink. Her eyebrows lift, and she takes the moment to try and kiss… good. Kiss better? Kiss well? She’s not sure what the right word is. She ends up sticking her tongue in Sole’s mouth in an attempt to be “seductive,” which makes Sole burst into giggles and defeats the point of trying to be quiet anyway.

Preston: He goes quiet until the enemies’ footsteps fade away, then gently pulls back from Sole’s lips. “Take me out to dinner first?” he asks with a smile. He and Sole giggle, but then the giggles fade, and their eyes meet. The silence lasts a few seconds before Preston goes in for another kiss, and, well…

Strong: “HUMAN NOT EAT STRONG.” Whoopsie, now they’re being shot at. Poor Sole. They tried.

X6-88: When Sole pulls away, X6 sounds almost irritated. “There were better ways to handle that situation,” he says, though the annoyance is mostly to hide his surprise. No one’s ever kissed him like that before. No one’s ever kissed him before, period. Later, much later, he musters the confidence to ask: “So… what you did, three days ago. During the… stealth maneuver. What was your motivation behind that?”

starsfelllikerain  asked:

Please tell us more stories about the corn!!

brief preface: i live in iowa, one of the united states’ largest producers of corn (as in maize for those overseas), and worked at a corn breeding research facility. these guys are in charge of creating new lines of seed for farmers to grow; i took the job because it was the only plant science-related job i could, and it sucked but it wasn’t the worst job ive ever had and i made bank because it sucked and no one wanted to do it. there were two parts to this job: data collection and pollination. i wrote out a huge thing on the details of these and then decided it was too long and rambly so imma just gonna skip that stuff and get to the Weird Liminal Space Corn Stories:

-for data collection, our job was to take plant an ear hights in fields all around iowa, meaning that we would get to work in the morning and they would load us up into transit vans and drive us out to a random small town with a test field for testing. once we got there, we had 16-foot-tall wooden measuring sticks we would unfold and bring into the field with us, and the instructions from there were simple: 2 people on each side of the breeder. you measure the line of corn behind you by sticking ur stick next to an average looking plant and reading off first how far up on the plant the first ear of corn was, then reading off how far the base of the flag leaf was. then, you turn around to face the line of corn behind you, and while youre turning around and sticking your measuring stick into the ground on that side your partner reads there numbers, you read your second line of numbers, your partner reads their second line, and then you walk into the nearest alley and march up two lines of corn while the people on the other side of the breeder go. you read the two data points on one side. your partner reads and u turn around. you read the data points behind you. your partner does. while you are going, your breeder is walking up the field typing in the numbers on a data logger and the other team is walking up two rows. once you reach the end of the field, your breeder stops you, you walk two plots down and turn the other direction. you read off your data points, ect, you do that all the way down the field. you do this for hours until your set is done. all told, once your team of 5 people gets oriented and going, it should sound like this to you:

stick. 65, 102. turn. stick. 68, 104. pick up stick. walk down two rows. stick. 85, 102. turn. stick. 84, 103. pick up stick. walk down two rows. ect. you have to annunciate yourself and not talk to your teamates so the breeder can hear you through the corn. on windy days, you have to shout. you dont have time to stop and talk; you actually barely have time to do anything but focus on the manual task of number, turn, number, walk, number, turn, number, walk. when we were done, we would come out covered in sweat and dirt with our sticks, pile in the transit van, and drive like, the 2-3 hours back. work days were about 9 hours with 5 in the field, meaning that you worked 40 hours a week and could do overtime on weekends doing pollination (which was actually really fun). 

-no headphones. at first i thought that rule was stupid, but like, once you enter a cornfield you realize that this is because 1. if someone is screaming your name you need to be able to hear and 2. corn touches everything; when you’re in the corn, there is always something touching you. we wore special hats with veils, long pants, long shirts, eye protection, and closed toed shoes because the corn leaves are sharp and will cut you up; i have scars from this. your headphones would get ripped out within like, .3 seconds, because like corn just snags and slices up everything. 

-one time, on the hottest day of the summer, we were doing the number-turn-number-walk routine and heard someone yelling for our breeder guy. he stopped us short and called back, and like, this is the scary part about cornfields: like i said in the tags of that one post, corn swallows up sound more than anything. it’s impossible to tell where you are and impossible to hear anything, even if you scream, so its best to stay close to your team unless your doing solo work, and if you’re doing solo work like, for the love of god, keep walking in the direction youre supposed to be walking until you’re finished. trust that theres something on the other side, even if you cant see it. but anyway; hes yelling, and shes yelling, and suddenly she bursts through the corn after searching for us and says that this one kid is having a seizure. queue both of them running out of the corn and we’re just standing there. eventually we hear one of the other breeders yelling “___’s group, where are you?!” and we’re like “over here! we’re over here!” and put our sticks up, and the other breeder comes into the alley and we keep doing data points. we had like, 6 kids go home that day because of how hot it was (over 100 degrees) and we ended up not finishing the field because they decided it wasnt safe for us to work anymore. (also, kid was predisposed to seizures and they took him home, he was fine and came back to work a couple days later)

-i kind of talked about this in the tags of that other post, but i think the scariest day was the day we were in a test field a little ways away from the research center. it was kind of stormy but we were like ok whatever, we’ve gotten rained on before with no problem, queue us starting the data collection for the day. its…..really windy. like. i wish i could recreate that feel in art or something or even film it someday, because 1. when the wind blew, the whole field-which, remember, this is our whole world when we’re in there because you can’t see anything but corn in every direction- moved. like, bended, which is typical of corn because like yeah duh it does that, but its like if you were standing in a hallway and suddenly all the walls bent with the wind and so did the cieling. it was that disorienting; i actually stumbled a few times because the only steady thing was the ground and 2. it was loud, like a weird roar in the background. everything is rustling all around you at once. we had to scream our numbers for the breeder to hear us, and when i moved my measuring stick would catch the wind and drag me back a little. then, we heard thunder in the distance. our breeder was like “okay guys we’re gonna finish this field because we’re only like 4 ranges away from the road” and we’re like ok yeah, 40 plots, we can do this. the wind picked up, we kept moving at like twice the pace to get out of there, and when we reached the end it was really close and our breeder was like “come on we have to go now” and we like, picked up our sticks and ran through the corn bending around us with the thunder and everything, can i say midwestern gothic because ive never experienced midwestern gothic more than 4 teenagers with corn sticks and a dude with a data logger running through a discombobulating corn haze at 11am with thunder rolling in. we get to the edge of the field, scramble over the barbed wire fence because we are not running through the rest of the field. in a hot second more teams emerge from the field at various speeds just as it starts storming. we pack up our sticks. our team of four gets in our breeder’s pickup truck and we drive back in the rain. it was a look guys ngl

-throwback to when i just finished doing solo tagging of the ranges in the corn in a field three hours away from the research center. our breeder said to meet him back at the truck when we were done, so when i reach the end of the field having stapled on tags for around 100 ranges (about ten minutes of walking and stapling alone in a single line; these tags will help orient harvesting in the fall), i turn around and start heading straight back, because like again, when you’re in the corn alone its best to know exactly where you are and the way out is always a straight line. i start following my tagging trail back. about five minutes into walking i hear rustling near me. y’all, i was not ready, started jogging and checking behind me and after a little bit i slow down because i feel like i lost whatever it was. rustling continues like its following me. hellno.jpg, not today, i run out of the corn into the alley on the other side, decide i must have imagined it, and start walking towards the truck. as it turns out it was another one of the guys who didn’t know where to go, saw me from his row, and was following me to find his way out of the corn. almost died that day y’all

-occasionally we would visit fields to do brittle snap count, which is lining up, walking a plot, stopping, and yelling out how many broken stalks of corn we counted in the plot we just walked through, then continuing. the whole thing is that farmers understandably hate it when all their corn breaks and dies. we went to this one field that had been hit by a wind storm; it was a really hot day and we were all like dying. this is where my aforementioned scarring comes in. in cornfields, there exists a thingy called corn rash. this is where the corn hits your skin so much that it makes tiny cuts all over you, and then pollen from said corn gets in the cuts along with sweat. it is the worst time i have ever experienced in my life like literally nope would not recommend. eventually we realized that half this field of test crop was broken. like, we stopped counting the amount of plants with broken stems and instead started counting the amount of plants still standing. i was wearing all the protection i needed/that was required (so was everyone else), but it was so hot that literally all of us had corn rash and i was bleeding, big yikes. eventually our super nice breeder for the day realized that we were Struggling™ and was like ok listen we’re going back this isn’t worth it and all the corn is literally dead inexplicably anyway and then took us to get gas station ice cream after bc she felt bad for us lmao, a blessing

-talked to the breeders a lot and asked a ton of questions. learned that sunflower breeding is a thing that happens and that they’re bred to be larger to bear more seed for like, those bags of sunflower seeds you see at gas stations. the more u know

-zoo corn

-the corn in the pollination fields (the corn being bred into pure, genetically identical lines for testing….*insert Corn Discourse Concerning Loss Of Genetic Diversity Here But Not Gonna Talk About It In This Post Bc Its Already Super Long*) gets really weird mutations that i’ve talked about before

-this post got so long im sorry

tl;dr: corn is a terrifying liminal space

Headcanon that before long drives to away games the Foxes make a playlist for each trip as a team.

  • Everyone has to go to Renee and she gives them her phone and lets them add songs to the playlist
  • When Neil doesn’t add any, she tracks him down to see which he wants on there
  • He picks just enough to make it look like he put some effort in so he can be left alone, but he doesn’t know much music
  • His choices are just a few songs that he doesn’t feel that strongly about, but he knows their names because he’s heard them a few times on the radio and he doesn’t hate them, so that’s good enough for him
  • On the run, it was just what they could catch on the radio and lots of the time they were driving where they couldn’t catch any signal but obscure country stations
  • Now Neil hates country music because of it
  • He couldn’t change the station to something else while he was driving because his mom wouldn’t let them stray from the one she had found (no matter how staticky it got) in case they couldn’t find one again while she was awake
  • And when it was her turn to sleep while he drove, he had to keep the radio off
  • On the bus, they put the whole playlist on shuffle while they drive
  • There’s no skipping allowed or else it would be total chaos and there would definitely be spite skipping
  • Which is why they all suffer through “This is the New Shit” blaring through the speakers at 5:30 in the morning because Andrew put it on the playlist
  • Also, they guess and make bets on who put what songs on when it’s a tough call
  • But sometimes it’s an easy call
  • Like, okay Kevin, we all know you’re the one who put “We Will Rock You” and “Tubthumping” and “All I Do is Win” on there
  • Tbh he may as well have put a whole sports rock album on there
  • Neil is so confused when Nicky’s singing along to the French lines in “Bad Romance” because Nicky doesn’t speak French????
  • And Nicky bursts into laughter when Neil asks about it and explains that’s the only French he speaks and he doesn’t even know what it means, he just knows all the Lady Gaga lyrics
  • Nicky also puts “Get’cha Head in the Game” on there and he definitely sings at Kevin when it comes on
  • And Andrew put “Basketball” on there just to annoy Kevin
  • When the song comes on, it keeps repeating “They’re playing basketball. We love that basketball.” while Kevin gets more and more visibly angry and Andrew almost smiles

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Dorm Mates AU
  • Harry and Ron were SUPPOSED to be roommates but Ron fucked up and forgot to request him
  • On move in day Harry bumps into this asshole who’s bitching about someone touching his “imported scarves”
  • Harry doesn’t have a lot to unpack so he’s already set up when that same asshole barges into the room. He doesn’t even notice Harry as he orders the poor volunteers around, telling them how to set up and “that doesn’t go THERE what are you, an animal???”
  • When the storm clears Harry just stands there blinking as Draco finally notices him. He offers him his hand to shake with his signature “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And you are…?”
  • Harry reluctantly takes it. “… Harry Potter”
  • Throughout the school year they’re very short with each other, usually hanging out with other groups. They still respect each others rules and lifestyles within the dorm, but rarely ever talk.
  • One night, late into the year, Draco comes in shit faced drunk while Harry is studying.
  • He starts crawling all over Harry on the bed and ends up laying in his lap talking about how everyone wants to be friends with him because of his father and how sometimes he doesn’t even like the people he hangs out with and stuff like that
  • After his long rant they just kinda sit there and suddenly Draco looks up like “You’re really hot you know that? Like suuuper hot. That’s why all those girls are after you. But you’re so stupid you don’t even realize it. Honestly.”
  • He kinda goes on about how hot Harry is and how sometimes he wants to make out with his stupid face and how the way his expressions are on a day to day basis is practically killing him but then Draco starts falling asleep mid-rant and just passes out on Harry’s lap.
  • Harry just sits there in stunned silence before sliding out from under Draco and going to Rons to spend the night
  • Draco wakes up feeling horrible and he doesn’t remember a lot from the night before. When he sees he’s on Harry’s bed and Harry is gone he starts panicking like “fuck fuck FUCK what did I do??”
  • Later that night Harry comes back and they exchange awkward “heys” before Draco gets all formal saying he’s sorry if he said anything out of term or caused any trouble
  • Harry just laughs like “you’re fine its cute the way you act when you’re drunk”
  • Draco is internally screaming at "cute” but he’s like “nevertheless I should not have imposed you-”
  • Harry interrupts him like “dude enough you don’t have to act so up tight with me I’m not gonna judge you”
  • And after a bunch of back and forth they’re suddenly criss crossed on the floor talking about their stupid aunt and uncle or how strict their houses are and they’re up talking until 2AM and somehow Draco ends up in Harry’s lap again ranting away and Harry is playing with his hair, only stopping when he agrees with something (“RIGHT?? How stupid is that???”)
  • There’s a small pause as they catch their breath and wind down a bit
  • Draco closes his eyes while Harry combs through his bangs before asking “So last night I just ranted about my friends at you?”
  • Harry chuckled and makes a mysterious comment like “among other things”
  • “Like what?” Draco is sweating now oh god what did I say to this beautiful boy
  • “Apparently I’m hot and I don’t even realize it”
  • Draco’s hands are on his face because he’s beet fucking red and Harry is laughing trying to pry them away
  • “don’t worry, don’t worry! I thought it was cute-” “don’t make fun of me!” “I’m not! Really! It was adorable! To be honest, I think everything you do is adorable” “OOHMYGOD PLEASE STOP”
  • and they both act like total fucking dorks until Harry manages to get Draco’s hands out of his face and plants a weird upside down kiss on his lips
  • Harry half-expects him to get embarrassed, but after a beat Draco’s pulling Harry back down with messy kisses and reposition’s himself so he’s straddling Harry’s lap
  • They’re wrapped around each other, Draco holding himself up so he can curve Harry’s head back and force his mouth open
  • Harry’s clawing at his back, about to slide his hands down to grab Draco’s hips when there’s a loud knock on the door (“are you fucking kidding me” goes through both their minds)
  • Ron’s coming from a party, drunk, trying to get Harry to go with him. Harry just takes Ron back to his dorm instead.
  • He expects Draco to be asleep when he gets back, which he is.
  • But on Harry’s bed.
  • Deliberately leaving space for Harry.
  • For the rest of the year they switch off on cuddling and making out with each other on different beds. Ron finds out at the end of the year and is more upset about how he could have half-dormed with them since they had an extra bed than the fact they were secretly dating all that time.

I think I’m in love with muggle AU’s of drarry. Also, make out scenes are my life. Fight me.