cheap diving

Snap Decision

(A chance meeting with a stranger at a bar helps you recover from a bad breakup.)

Warnings: 11000+ words of mostly sex stuff.  Bad ex boyfriends. People doing inadvisable things.  Listen up kids: in real life you should be more cautious about who you let take naked pictures of you! Lots and lots of sex.  If you’ve read my stuff before, you know the drill.  

You thought it would be fun to work in sales after you graduated from university; you would travel around the country, meeting new people, holding meetings in fancy high rise office buildings in big cities, wining and dining clients at gourmet restaurants while you closed deals and made boatloads of money.  The reality was that you were selling industrial wastewater management systems, making a moderate income, while traveling four days a week to factories and chemical refineries in some of the least glamorous locations on earth.  You didn’t mind the work itself, but the evenings alone in small town hotel rooms were dull and disheartening, so you would frequently head out to a local movie theater or neighborhood bar to distract yourself from the loneliness on the road.   

 It was pouring down rain outside and you decide to run to the closest place you could find to grab a drink, rather than risk driving around and getting lost.  That’s how you found yourself sitting alone at the bar of the Applebee’s restaurant that was adjacent to your hotel, sipping on something called a Blue Hawaiian, in a town you couldn’t even remember the name of.   

Unruly children sat with their families having dinner in the nearby booths, while innocuously bland pop songs played overhead.  You took one sip of the cloyingly sweet blue cocktail in front of you and immediately regretted your decision to come here tonight. Given the lousy week you had experienced, you would have been better off drinking cheap whiskey at a dive bar filled with unapologetic alcoholics.  Here, the family friendly atmosphere mixed with the empty promises of a fruity cocktail that was designed to trick you into thinking you were on a tropical island vacation instead of in your real life.  Your real crappy life. 

You had totally blown the sale today.  The clients had a million questions about the technical specifications of the products you were trying to sell, but you kept tripping over your words and making yourself sound like an idiot.  You blamed your poor work performance on lack of sleep.  And you blamed the lack of sleep on your boyfriend, David.  Actually, he was your ex-boyfriend now.  After more than a year together, you dumped him for cheating on you.  

He claimed he was faithful, but you were certain he was lying.  He never picked up his phone when you called him from out on the road.  He would eventually call you back, but his stories about where he was and what he was doing always sounded a little off.  The final blow came when your friend Stephanie told you she saw him going into a movie theater with another girl.  David claimed Stephanie was mistaken and that you were just paranoid and jealous for no reason.  You wanted to believe him, but deep down you were sure that Stephanie was right.  All the unresolved questions you had about what David was doing while you were working could easily be answered if he had been cheating on you.  David cried when you told him it was over, he begged you to reconsider, but you were resolute and just walked away.

That had been a week ago, and every day since then, you questioned whether or not you made the right decision.  You had no hard proof that he had been unfaithful.  Sure, Stephanie said she saw him, but she only saw from a distance.  Maybe she was mistaken.  Maybe it was just someone who looked like David.

“Is this seat taken?”

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SPN Hunters and Poverty

Ok the Original Post* was getting pretty long and I wanted to go off on a tangent so I’ve started a new one here:

So like, the audience is supposed to think it’s uncomfortable and possibly wrong for people whose job it is to save the world to have a certain level of luxury. Which is less than the one the people making the story have.

Honestly, I always knew they were there, but for the first time I’m actually kinda creeped out by the class issues in SPN (ok, I lie- the prices Creation charges creep me the fuck out, but aside from that. I mean in the actual story). Like, Sam and Dean are not truly poor anymore. But they do still live partially as working poor. They’re still economically insecure; depicted as, in some ways, working poor people who go into mostly middle-class and upper-middle-class communities, do a horrifying vital service, and then disappear. And it’s romantic, heroic. But it’s wrong.

Like, it’s actually a moral wrong that they should be poor. They deserve to be at least as economically stable as their creators.

We talk a lot about romanticizing violence, but what does it mean that the whole structure of the show honestly kinda romanticizes the poverty of the working class? Walmart is not romantic; it just sucks. @chiisana-sukima

Yes, American SPN Hunters are portrayed, generally, as working class (Winchesters, Campbells, Bobby) or middle class (Asa Fox, Jody, Donna). I think it is important to keep in mind that one reason full time hunters often seem poor is that the majority of what they are doing is a) considered criminal and b) needs to stay secret.  So they have to live under/off the radar.  In order to do that, you need to be either VERY, VERY wealthy (and bribe everyone) or you have to commit fraud on a daily basis. Assuming none of our hunters have endless supplies of cash, being cheap helps with the daily committing fraud process. Here’s why/how:

1) Hunters scam credit cards  - because they can’t hold down a real job and hunt, which means they have no means of income (other than technically criminal activity like hustling pool and looting the monster victims). Also, they can’t BE themselves - they cannot afford to be traced - by the authorities OR by the very smart humanoid monsters they hunt. Scammed cards can get detected really fast if you are throwing money around. Also, scammed cards are only as good as their limit (which is likely to be low) - so you want to make them last as long as possible. Lastly, when your card IS caught, skeevy, ethically questionable places are less likely to report it to the police. So Hunters look for cheap, dive places to spend their fake cash. Note: often some of these skeevy places are NOT less expensive than the Holiday In Express - they just ask fewer questions or will rent a room without a credit card or will forget you were there (or are more used to cleaning up blood from sheets).

2) Hunters are con men - they have to pretend to be authority figures/repairmen/teachers/social workers/lost relatives in order to get the information they need. They need to be ‘noticed’ as little as possible and leave almost record of their stay. Using a credit card leaves a trail - so that means using cash in places that won’t notice cash, and eating in places that see (and forget) lots of strangers. They also need to be hard to find when their identity is questioned. Who would look for the FBI in a skeevy hotel? Those two shifty guys in flannel coming out of the dilapidated Inn on rt 20 couldn’t possibly be the nice men we talked to earlier today…[of course the giant black car and hunter’s ridiculously good looks aren’t a problem, but that’s tv land for you].

3) Hunters are rural nomads - Notice that, in general, Hunters try to stay out of cities. While one of the main themes of SPN was supposed to be a focus on ‘heartland America’  - but really, woods monsters hide in rural areas, and (in theory) many human-eating monsters are are nomads, roaming for food. Thus Hunters focus on rural America and move around a lot following the monsters. Rural America is full of very small towns/places with no other option than the 1-2 star hotel (or less). One of my fav personal stories is of staying in the ONE motel in the entire COUNTY in TN - and it was EXACTLY the kind of place a Hunter would stay (right down to the friendly diner next door and the truck stop on the other side).  If you were wealthy and wanted to stay in that area - you rented a whole HOUSE/cabin in the nearby picturesque woods  - which is likely to get VERY noticed - or you stayed 30-50 inconvenient miles away.

US Hunters Evolving: Donna and Jody are an exception to many of the above statements. But they are a different kind of hunter - one that fans feel is an evolution of the American Hunter - the regional protectors. Jody and Donna, both suburban middle class, use their actual positions of authority to learn about and track monsters and also to cover up the evidence. They keep their own gerenal area ‘clean’ and call in “full time” nomadic hunters to deal with scarier stuff or stuff they hear about outside their territories. Their positions and training also make them capable fighters - brave, good with guns, etc.

US Hunters Best of a Broken System: Lastly, remember that the US did have a system more like that of the BMOL - academic magicians in authority directing local hunters to kill problems. What the US has NOW is what developed as a stop gap when the MoL vanished. Hunters like Dorothy and Mr. Ketch (shudder) trained others to keep the monsters at bay. They were focused on the find and kill part - not the administrative outlook of “Hey, if we are smart and make enough $, we can do this job better, faster and more efficiently.”  ‘Cause *I* know I sleep better in nicer hotels and I WORK better if I’m really well rested. Sam and Dean are MACHINES, really, - the stuff they pull off given how crappy they treat their bodies…

In Conclusion: Hell, I’ve lost the thread of where I was really going with this…it has devolved into an examination of WHY the class differences exist between US and British ‘hunter systems’. Not sure I’ve addressed @chiisana-sukima‘s concern about the morality of SPN implying that hunters SHOULD be poor or working class. 

Anyone else?

Runaway chapter 1

Tw: mentions of homophobia, self harm, abandonment, deportation, smoking, homelessness, death, abuse, familial abuse, mentions of transphobia.
Tags: @polysandershell @analogically-prinxiety @the-prince-and-the-emo @dan-yuna @de-is-me @princeyandanxiety

Note: the ocs in this are 100% mine do not use without permission

Plot: Virgil runs away from home after being ignored for a long time

3 year old Virgil waddled up to Roman with a drawing he did of Roman slaying the monster that was under Virgil’s bed.

“Romam! Wook!” He held up the drawing to a video gaming Roman. Roman was more focused on the game.

“Screw off Virgil,  I’m busy!” He snapped as he lost the game because of the drawing shoved in his face. Virgil let out a whimper and ran to find one of his parents.

 Patton was busy making dinner, so the baby gate blocked the doorway. Patton also had his headphones on, blocking himself from Virgil’s cries.

Luckily, though Logan was busy doing work for his class, his door was open so Virgil ran right in letting out his cries. 

“Oh goodness. Virgil, what is upsetting you?” Logan didn’t expect an immediate response as he helped Virgil’s emotions calm. Virgil finally calmed down and started to explain that Roman hurt him, he made the now torn picture for Roman and Roman didn’t like it.

Logan got up with Virgil on his hip and went to the living room, turning off the gaming console.

“What the fuck?!” Ten year old Roman shouted and received a grounding.

“You broke the picture your brother made for you because you were playing your video games?” Logan scolded. Roman shrugged with a nod.

Virgil was 8 years old when Roman punched him for the first time. Roman was 15 at the time and had just been broken up with when Virgil wanted a hug, having been told if he didn’t smarten up in class, he’d fail grade 3.

“Not now Virgil,  I’m not in the mood” Roman had warned, he didn’t want to take out hid anger on Virgil.

“Please?” Virgil went closer and Roman lashed out, his knuckles smashing against Virgil’s young cheek and kept going. Virgil left as soon as he could, but no parents were home so he locked himself in his room and didn’t come out.

Virgil was 10 when the thought popped up in his mind. The thought of running away. It came to him while at school, in math class. If he just didn’t come home then he wouldn’t feel ignored anymore because nobody would be there to ignore him.

Virgil shook the thought away when Patton called for dinner. The thought persisted for 2 years. When he turned 12 and Roman got worse than ever, Virgil gave in.

Virgil folded his arms tightly around his chest, cold thin hands gripping behind his ribs above the thin jacket he wore. Virgil’s tired eyes looked back behind him once, right twice. He let his hair coat his forehead, the bagged eyes that were just touched by his bangs stared forward on these empty streets. A 4 a.m. stroll, a 12 year old boy with no place to call home.

Virgil coughed shallowly, the cold of March nights were affecting his immune system, making him drowsy and weak time and time again. ‘The bridge of second street’ Virgil thought, he needed a rest. So he continued through barren streets of closed doors and car alarms. The city ways were no place for a kid to be alone, but we’re the only place for kids with no home. Virgil’s backpack weighed heavy on his shoulders. Holding the $5 he gathered yesterday, his stuffed cat, and a half empty bag of chips.

Virgil ducked under the brick bridge, the wind was blocked from him now. There were stray cats a few feet away, Virgil didn’t mind though. He took off his backpack and put it on in front of him instead, so the bag was on backwards. Then he layed down and used the bag to rest his head on and cuddle best he could. Tomorrow…tomorrow… he always thought tomorrow would be better.

The sun awoke Virgil the next noon, he didn’t move from under the bridge yet though. He searched around for anything of worth. Finding only five cents and a rope. He placed them in his bag and began walking again. Ducking through alley ways and crevaces to avoid adults over and over again.

Virgil far from home. 4 cities away to be exact, he had been gone for a month. No window tvs or radio stations from cars had spoke of his disappearance. Virgil knew nobody cared at home, but he hoped someone would at least notice he had been missing.

Virgil walked and walked, he ended up on the other side of town as the sun went down. The town clock said it was 8 pm. Virgil was tired and decided he’d go into a library, a little bit of heat and unquestioned sanctuary would be nice for the next hour. Virgil walked to the books about animals and read about ducks until the librarian told him he needed to leave because it was closing time.

Virgil took a seat on the sets of stairs that lead to the library doors. Pulling his knees to his chest and watching around. Fear twinged his nerves as a dark mass approached him. He didn’t want to get beaten if that’s what was about to happen. However, Virgil relaxed a little as the mass was simply more kids around his age. They sat around with Virgil, all were in worn jeans, muggy shirts and had messy hair. The youngest looked maybe 9 and the eldest was at least 18. There were 12 of them.

“Hey kid, want some food?” The eldest one offered out a box of granola bars. Virgil took one.

“Thanks” Virgil said just loud enough to be heard, he broke a small piece off the bar after opening it. Everyone had a granola bar in their hands. Virgil took off his bag and put the bag of chips in the middle of the group. Everyone took some. By midnight all the food was gone and everyone except the younger then ten ones and Virgil had had a cigarette. The group got up and started to leave, Virgil stayed in his spot unsure what to do now.

“Virgil, you coming?” The one called back and Virgil smiled. Grabbed his bag and jogged to catch up with them. The group talked about whatever came to mind. Something on the radio, something across the street, something another group member had did. Virgil had learned some of the ir names but not everyone’s.  He knew the 18-or-so year old was Greg, he got kicked out for being bisexual in a Catholic family.

 The 9 year old was Armen, her family had been deported back to Guatemala and since she was born here, she was allowed to stay but was left on the streets.

There was a kid around Virgil Age named Victor, he was the cleanest looking one. He had blonde medium length hair that fell down the back of his neck and a little in his face. His eyes were a pale green and his skin was milky white. Virgil and Victor talked as they followed Greg with the other kids. They all piled into Greg first story apartment downtown, there were many blankets and pillows and cups for tap water. There were 2 other guys there around Greg’s age.

“Ethan! Matt! We’ve got a new member. This is virgil” Virgil smiled a little as he was introduced and gave a little wave. “Victor, can you help Virgil get set up?” Greg asked and Victor nodded.

“Come on, you can sleep next to me.” Victor said half-excited. The younger kids all fell asleep as soon their heads touched their floor resting pillows. Victor set up Virgil’s pillow and blanket next to his own in the kitchen. They whispered about their pasts together until they fell asleep. Victor had run away too, he ran because his dad beat him every night. 


3 months had passed since Virgil had joined the group. Everyone had a job here, it was organized, reliable, it was safe. Virgil had found comfort and the group was often referred to as a family. 2 of the group had managed to get into a foster care system, Ella and her girlfriend J.J., the two 15 year olds. Everyone was both sad and happy to see them go.

Everyone had jobs, all the jobs helped out the family in some way or another.

 Greg, Ethan, and Matt, were all in actual jobs. They worked the exact same shifts at a local restaurant. Matt cooked, Ethan was custodian, and Greg took orders. Sometimes they were able to bring home food.
Jonny was a pick pocketer. He took little so it wasn’t noticed. He often took it from phone-distracted people. 2 dollars here,5 there, no one noticed no one cared. He usually came home with upwards of $15.
Elanor was a motherly, protective figure. She was 16 but babied everyone like a mom would. She made sure people showered at least once a week, they ate whatever was given to them, always was open to hugs, and was basically the shoulder to cry on too. Everyone loved her, Jonny had a special love for her though. 

Shark at 12 years old ran away from boarding school, now at 14 he was a street performer. He sang, danced, did magic, anything he knew. Money varied for him but every bit counted and he was always tired. If he was home, he was asleep. No one minded though cause they got to play with his magic supplies. Card tricks and games were the life of indoor fun for them.

Darnel, being 13, did gambling bets for elder generations.  Little games he always won. Like who can slam their hand on the count of three first. Whoever won kept the coin. People usually played 4 or 5 times. $10 was average for him, which usually had been converted into a bag of potatoes that would be turned into fries in the kitchen or mashed potatoes or whatever Ethan could do.

Virgil and Victor both just wandered the streets in search of free or cheap stuff, dumpster diving or clothes-drive diving. They had backpacks that were always full at the end. Sometimes Terra, a 10 year old in the group, joined them. Mostly though, Terra and Armen were kept at home under Elanor’s care and teachings.

*   *   *

“Virge, look at this!” Victor held out an old watch. Virgil looked up from where he was digging, a smile spread across his face.

“Dude!” Virgil dragged out the ‘u’ “does it still work?” He asked curiously. Victor stared for a few seconds at the glass front, then nodded vigorously, his blonde locks falling in his face some.

“Yeah it does, should we pawn it or like give it to someone in the group?” Victor asked. Greg’s birthday was in a few days, they weren’t sure if this was something Greg would use though.

“ We can check how much the pawn shop will give us for it.” Virgil suggested, a sense of unsureness in his voice. Victor nodded before they kept digging.

“Jackpot!” Virgil exclaimed a few minutes later. “Check it out” Virgil held up a bag of fast-food-kids-meals toys. Victor squeaked a little in happiness, they had secretly been on the hunt for toys for the house. You were never to old for toys in the family. Virgil smiled and put the grocery store bag of toys in his bag. This dumpster behind an apartment building always paid off. No one cared that they were in here either. They found a few more things like broken barbie dolls that Terra would love.

“Where to now?” Victor asked, Virgil had grown very close to Victor in the months they had been living together in that family. Victor had grown close to Virgil as well. It was going to get cold this weekend according to newspapers they can’t afford, they had been told to find stuff to keep the family warm this week.

 "Petsmart dumpster? Dog beds can be turned into small kid mattresses or big kid pillows" Virgil suggested, and off they went in search of stuff. Finding the off sidewalk coin here or there. Their clothes were clean, they had enough money on Friday as a group to wash clothes in the building cleaning room so everyone felt refreshed. This led to Virgil and Victor just looking like 2 guys hanging out.

They turned down the alley behind Petsmart and Victor helped Virgil in to the dumpster before being pulled up himself. “So dog beds,  animals, toys, dishes, and anything that can be pawned” Victor said and they went to work.

20 minutes later and they had 0 dog beds, maybe $20 of pawn, and a kitten in Virgil’s hood. “I found about 20 cans of wet cat food and a half empty bag of cat food. ” Virgil said and put them into his now full bag. Victor nodded then screamed a little in excitement as he buried his hand in the space in front of him and pulled out a large dog bed. One for a great dane or bigger.

“Little bit of freshener and a spot wash this’ll be great.” Virgil said happily “Okay let’s go home and drop off the good stuff then to the pawn shop and if there’s still time, we will go to value village donation bins on the west side.

“Oo fancy!” Victor smiled happily. Virgil held the tiny white kitten they had found in the dumpster in a bag, in his arms as they jumped down.
They ran as fast as they could back home. Elanor was helping Armen get dressed when the two showed up. “VV is that you?” They giggled at Elanor’s nickname for them.

“Yeah it’s us, we are just going to put our stuff in the closet so that no one sees it till we get back.!” Victor shouted said and they did just that other than the kitten. Virgil kept her in his jacket before they headed out with pawn stuff. The pawn shop closed in 20 minutes.

“Hey derek” Victor said as they entered, the pawn shop was huge and filled with useless things that were worth a lot. Derek was always fair fare with them.

“Hey vic, Virge.  What do you got today?” Some nogotiations, a little begging, and compromises later and they had sold almost everything for $60

“We have one thing we just want priced” Victor says,  Derek raised his brown eyebrow with curious blue eyes but nodded. Victor placed the watch on the glass counter and Derek choked on his own saliva.

“Where did you guys find this?” He asked as he inspected and cleaned it with a baby wipe.

“Dumpster, now how much?” Victor pushed. Virgil and him had agreed that 100 or more they’d pawn and buy Greg a lighter that had a bisexual flag on it.

“I can give you guys 4-5 maybe 6?” Derek said

“ dollars” Victor said unimpressed.

“Hundred” Derek said, Virgil left the view so he couldn’t break character.

“Deal!” Victor said and collected the six hundred seventy five dollars they just gained from a watch. “Let’s go home” Victor said into Virgil’s ear quietly making Virgil shiver a little. Victor giggled and they ran home Virgil holding tight on to the kitten.

“What about west side?” Virgil asked and Victor shrugged as they opened the apartment door

“Tomorrow” it was 7 o'clock. Everyone would be home in about 10 minutes, Victor smiled fully and Virgil felt his heart melt a little. This was a good feeling, this was a warmth he heard his dad’s call love before. He hoped he never got used to this so it’d always feel warm. He hoped he never had to lose this.

One could hope.

Prompt #162

“Anonymous said: Memory: Cheap dive bars that substitute alcohol with soda, but you’re already drunk so it doesn’t matter. The lines to the bathroom are longer than ever, but the girls are nice and want to talk. The girls won’t leave you alone when you can’t walk straight anymore because the boys are getting very friendly. The music is so loud and you just want to dance and dance. The ground is cold and unfinished. Solid concrete.”

// I’m not going to add anything to this, because it’s really perfect and I have no ideas on how to change it! Anon, you might as well have this blog, thank you so much! XD //

all the lonely people ( chapter 1 )

She’s on a long journey back to her roots; he has no intention of returning. “Home” is both the departure and the destination, but neither Riley nor Lucas are quite sure they know what it means, or if they know where it actually is. But when fate brings them together on the open road, both of them come to realize that perhaps the destination doesn’t matter so much–and that maybe home isn’t something, but someone.

aka, the rucas soulmates road trip fic no one asked for but we’re certainly delivering on || ( read on ao3 ) ( read on ffnet )

Chapter: 1 ( prologue / austin, tx ) [ lucas ]

Word Count: 4,000+

A/N: this is a collab fic with my wonderful best friend, Kate ( @rileysmatthews )! we’ll be alternating chapters, and i’m honored to be the one to write the premiere update and start this new journey with you all. thanks for reading, and hopefully enjoy!!


As Riley loads the last box into the back of her hatchback and stares at her entire life packed up before her, she has to wonder to herself if she really is insane.

She could’ve just had her stuff shipped. She could’ve just taken a direct flight back to New York, had her stuff delivered within the next week, and made the whole journey quite sweet and simple. No hassle, no stress, from one coast to the other in record time.

All of this in retrospect. She could’ve. But she didn’t.

She slams the back of the car shut, exhaling a deep sigh and hopping back onto the curb.

Jade waits by the hood, twisting her fingers together nervously and looking at the hunk of junk apprehensively. Her fidgeting drifts to the end of her braid hanging off her shoulder, twirling it. “Are you sure you want to do this, Riles? Cross-country is a long trip to take all by yourself.”

Standing in front of her for what may be the final time, Riley suddenly realizes how great of a roommate Jade Beamon actually was. She wasn’t particularly engaging or outgoing, nothing extraordinary, but then, in her deepest heart of hearts Riley knows she isn’t either. But she was genuine, and kind, and didn’t bring friends over at late hours or anything like the stunts her past roommates pulled. It’s a shame she only got to room with her for senior year—for all intents and purposes, Jade’s probably the closest thing she has to a true friend from her four years at UC Riverside.

And it’s just now as she’s facing her, about to take off on her own, that she realizes maybe she’ll really miss her.

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It’s been five years since we moved into our “new” Marvel offices in Midtown Manhattan, and we still continue to explore the area for the best lunch options. Last week, we walked over to 8th Ave and 49th to check out the Times Square Diner. It wasn’t the cheap dive we had hoped for, going for more of a classy theater district vibe, but the food was quite good. I went with their Bacon Loaf Sandwich, which was a thick slice of their homemade meatloaf on a roll topped with bacon, caramelized onions, brown gravy and melted mozzarella. I really enjoyed it and would go back for this sandwich again!


807 8th Ave.

NY, NY 10019


i want michael. i want sleepy michael at two am. i want him at his best times. i want him at his worst times. i want his goofy self. i want to get drunk with him and stumble home singing shitty songs. i want to stay up late with him whispering sweet nothings, and i want late mornings with him spent laying in bed for hours. i want to dance around to pop songs, and cry with him while watching sad movies while were curled up together on the couch. i want diner dates at cheap dive restaurants. i want drunk michael telling me im beautiful through sloppy kisses. i want to trace his tattoos with my finger tips. i want laughter at all times with him. i want to cuddle with him. i want really passionate sex with him. i want us to have inside jokes no one else we’ll ever decode with him. i want to worship him in a way thats not creepily over the internet. i want michael. and i know i’ll never have him.

Summary of my WC2013 experience day 17 (Knock Out stage)

Netherlands 2 vs Mexico 1

Interesting play by both teams in the First half but nothing came of it. by the end of 45 mins its was square.

3 mins into the second half and Dos Santos hits us with a goal

the Game remained in the favor of Mexico and we all thought that was it.

a massacre was planned…oops wrong round object

meanwhile ochoa was ochoaing everywhere…you shall not pass

Goal no here

errrr i said no

when ever there is an OCHOA its = NO GOAL

and bruv still here loosing his shit

But in the in 88’ sneidjer equalised for Netherlands and everyone was bracing themselves for extratime

but 90+ Arjen Robben happened.

THE “omg its a dive,I BELIEVE I CAN FLY, its not a penalty. is it a penalty?, that was a penalty, its a fucking cheap dive, oh no its foul”

 the drama was real…i already addressed the issue. want my opinion? CLICK HERE 

A penalty was awarded and Hutenlaar took the penalty and it was good

But the Majority was gutted for Mexico. They somehow got the majority of the support and it was sad to watch them get their heart broken.

and bruv is just chanelling everyone’s expression


Costa Rica 1(5) vs Chile 1 (3) (Penalties)

Basically all you need to know.

Ruiz put in a goal for Costa Rica and Greece is at it again watching the ball as it crossed. its like they dint know they are suppose to stop the ball.

Red for Oscar Duarte and we thought it was over for Costa Rica

as expected an equalizer from Greece

and that was how it landed in Penalties

.both teams impressed everyone hitting the net everytime PENALTY SHOOT OUT HERE

But this Lad, Theofanis Gekas… i don’t want to be him. He was the one who had the bad luck and lost his.

and its happy days for Costa Rica with a win 

but Greece fans still wearing bed sheets

Day 17 had so many controversies but it was good fun..bring on Day 18

The Post-Apocalyptic Coffee Shop AU

ishipanarmada has requested the most fabulous of AUs. Below, I attempt to deliver on it. Hope you like it!

They called it The Shop. It didn’t need a fancy title because everyone knew what you meant when said you were going there. It was the only place in this godforsaken hell hole that was still had coffee. They charged an arm and a leg for it, too. A week’s rations could get you a small cup of bitter sludge, but damn if it wasn’t worth it.

John shoved the rickety door open, the shoddy metal and wood creaking loudly in the otherwise silent street. Dusk meant everyone skedaddled right quick. Night time was for only people who were on guard duty or were looking to get killed.

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Last Resort

This is a hot mess and all selenicsoulmates fault.  1.5k Makorra


“Pleeease, Mako?” Bolin begged with hands clenched together while doing his best puppy dog impression.

“I told you, no,” Mako replied. He yanked a cupboard door open. “We only have like $20 for the week. We’re not going to blow it on some tourist trap restaurant.”

“I swear, I’ll eat ramen for the rest of the week with no complaints! Besides, it’s cheap! That’s like their whole gimmick.”

Mako sighed.

Bolin could sense his brother weakening and began bouncing on the balls of his feet.

With one last disparaging look at the empty shelves, Mako conceded. “Fine.” Bolin cheered. “But you get the cheapest thing on the menu and no complaints about how hungry you are for a week!”


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blewinonaleaf  asked:


Being a hunter, love wasn’t something Dean thought about much. Little diners and dives, cheap hotel rooms, bars, and one night stands were the kind of life he’d become accustomed to, but every so often, he’d glance down in the middle of the night and stare at the name marked onto his wrist in the moonlight through the silver threads dancing in through the open curtains.

“Clara,” he would breathe, wondering if she could feel when he was thinking about her, He doubted it since he never knew if she wondered about him. Part of him wondered if she even existed, or if she was alive. Sam had lost his soulmate Jess early on in their relationship, yet her name still lingered in his wrist. He hoped that this wasn’t the case for him, though he’d never admit it outloud.