completely deserted

STRANGELY ENDEARING SIGHTS ON TF2:

-Heavies who throw their sandwiches at hopeless causes, like a burning corpse on the ground or a building with a sapper attached.

-Pyros who thumb you up on the kill-cam (who can be mad at that? They’re thumbing you up!)

-All classes, but especially Soldiers, when the player controlling them shakes the mouse up and down as if trying to nod but it instead moves their entire torso (Soldier’s long and bulky rocket launcher enhances this motion and makes it 10 times more hilarious)

-When you die as Engineer, go to spectate your buildings and find a Pyro with homewrecker spychecking like mad and refusing to leave your nest.

-Medics who thank the Heavies after they throw their sandwiches at them.

-When during pregame, you spam the “Spy!” voice command at a teammate Spy, and the Spy responds with “Yes” every time.

-Non-Engineer classes who crouch near friendly buildings and keep smacking them with their melee weapons

-Pyros who run from the other end of the map chasing after Scouts trying to put their fire out.

-Pyros who run from the other end of the map to where you are just to extinguish you.

-A gibus and pyrovision Engineer who helps you upgrade and maintain your buildings.

-When you and an enemy player can’t connect a single hit so you both end up stopping, crouching, thanking each other and walking away.

-Those new players who wander off into a completely deserted part of the map and just stay there, looking all around them.

Leviathans

posted by reddit user ColdCoffee1775

In 1997 a noise was picked up by hundreds of listening stations across the pacific. It was named “the bloop”. The bloop was an incredibly low frequency and organic in nature. The frequency and patterns of the sound suggested an animal. The only problem was that whatever animal made that sound would have had to be several times larger than a blue whale. It was thought that the bloop was caused by shifting glaciers. But we know better now…

Keep reading

Medieval villagers mutilated the dead to stop them rising, study finds

A study by archaeologists has revealed certain people in medieval Yorkshire were so afraid of the dead they chopped, smashed and burned their skeletons to make sure they stayed in their graves.

The research published by Historic England and the University of Southampton may represent the first scientific evidence in England of attempts to prevent the dead from walking and harming the living – still common in folklore in many parts of the world.

The archaeologists who studied a collection of human bones – including the remains of adults, teenagers and children excavated more than half a century ago, and dated back to the period between the 11th and 14th century – rejected gruesome possibilities including cannibalism in times of famine, or the massacre of outsiders. The cut marks were in the wrong place for butchery, and isotope analysis of the teeth showed that the people came from the same area as the villagers of Wharram Percy in North Yorkshire – a once flourishing village which had been completely deserted by the early 16th century. Read more.

Hufflepuff: The First to Request to Stay and Fight

Many people remember the scene in the final book where “the Slytherin table was completely deserted, but a number of older Ravenclaws remained seated while their fellows filed out; even more Hufflepuffs stayed behind and half of Gryffindor remained in their seats.” (Going to do another post on this quote about the breakdown of Houses and some other analysis later)

Though the teachers were willing to let those of age stay and fight, it was not an expectation of anyone. What many people forget is that it was a Hufflepuff student who requested to stay and fight once everyone was together in the Great Hall.

McGonagall: “Prefects, when I give the word, you will organize your House and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point.”

Ernie Macmillan (prefect of Hufflepuff and DA member): *stands up and shouts* “and what if we want to stay and fight?”

*there was a smattering of applause*


Now we know many of the Gryffindors already intended to stay in fight regardless of what anyone told them. Hufflepuff, though, plays by the rules and if they were told they needed to leave they would have made sure everyone got out safely and left (ensuring they left behind a few surprises for the Death Eaters of course). Up until this point, we have not seen anyone actually tell the students they have the chance to stay and fight. Macmillan stood up and requested for the ability to. They aren’t staying for Harry. They are staying because it is right, just like their head of House.

5 a.m. [Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader]

Summary: Inspired by the one time me and some friends went to McDonald’s at 5 a.m. The reader, craving junk food, drags a sleepy Lin out of bed, way too early in the morning. The breakfast menu isn’t up yet. Chaos and shenanigans ensue.

Word counter: 4,474

Warnings: None, just a really sleepy and grumpy Lin. 

Authors Notes: @sunshinemiranda - i cannot believe i got to the chance to collab with ren again??? you guys, this honestly all stemmed from this really cute story she told me and then me (being pushy and annoying as per usual) needed to get in and then this came into being!! we got so attached, we made headcanons for this, unbelievable. i still want to make a prequel. enjoy.

@alexanderhamllton - i got to collab with my girl again, can you guys BELIEVE??? I am so happy with how this turned out, we made a whole lot of headcanons (hence the mixtapes) and we really hope you guys like it! If you want more from this universe PLEASE let us know, because we would love to wirte that! 

askbox | olivia’s masterlistren’s masterlist


Lin wasn’t expecting his phone to ring at 5 in the morning. He wasn’t expecting anything but a solid sleep that he desperately needed after too many late nights full of work. Funny thing was, life had a screwed up talent at ruining expectations.

His phone lit up in the dark, vibrating against the wooden bedside table with a vicious energy. With a groan, he stabbed a button blindly and brought it to his ear without even bothering to emit a greeting. It was too early for that.

“Lin. Listen, it’s 5 am. You wanna go to McDonald’s with me?”

Keep reading

•A JOURNAL ENTRY: WHAT IS IT REALLY LIKE TO LIVE WITH DEPRESSION?•

i wouldn’t exactly call it living. more like surviving… i look at the environment surrounding me, memories lie tattered in my brain. a life i want to believe was once so full and fruitful has become unthinkably dull. my own eyes were once baby blue but have since faded to an iridescently eerie gray. im hurting. it hurts. im not lying.

i would tell you that you don;t understand- but i;ve begin to notice that everything can only be interpreted in relation to other things or feelings. and this is the only thing ive come to recall feeling. this ethereal delicate coldness within my core, shaking and rattling my bones, consuming my every feeling of functionality. im clearly broken beyond repair- yet i aimlessly crave fixture.

i am light with awful lightness. my blood is mud and my bones are brittle. my thoughts freely cascade within my mind, setting fire to all of my precious sensibilities . any meager ration of purpose and hope is replaced by these fucking reminders that i am truly and entirely 113% alone in this.

at one point, i wanted help. i went to therapy once a week- on bad weeks i went twice. i convinced myself that the glass was half full. i made the most out of everything- and in the process, i made a fool of myself.

i spoke out. i cried for help. i wrote it in books, on forums, i would have carved the words “help me” into my damn skin on my damn forehead if i thought for one minute that anybody was listening.

and i know you’re listening if you’re reading this. but are you really reading this? are you reading me? can you feel the pain in the tips of my fingers, in the ends of my hair, in the blood in my veins, in the staggering cry of my voice at 2 in the morning- an ugly face soaked in the tears resulting from years of utter and complete destruction and then desertion of every little thing i feel?

can you feel my pain?

can you imagine trying to fall asleep when there are actual fucking faceless voices in between your ears jabbering an unimaginably taunting cry? whispering demented nonsense into your ears nonstop after you beg and plead with yourself to quit hearing those damn voices. your mind races like it’s been training all its life and this is the moment it has all led up to: the olympic event of self destruction. and it’s taking home the gold.

i close my eyes and i am so unbelievably tired. staying alive is a fight and today it has beat
me to a pulp. my eyes have bags as big as my regrets and my face is tired from
pretending to light up with joy all day.

jesus christ, it’s my junior year and i’m graduating in less than a year. surely there is one thing to even half way grin about. no, you are wrong. because for every good little thing that happens- every time it seems like it’s getting better, every false sense of hope, for every good thing, there is depression.

my false sense of hope has found its home. depression is a polite host to every single good
feeling in my body. depression feeds me, it cleans me, it loves me, it speaks to me, it knows me.

depression wants to stay forever. it houses in my bones, it feeds on my fears, it gets high on my anxiety, it exchanges hope for hopelessness, it thrives on my insecurities, and depressions favorite thing to do is to keep me up on nights like tonight, where i’m at my worst.

i’m scared, truly. i used to be obsessed with the seasons- more importantly, the transition of one season to anther. perhaps i used to be so fond of change because change was actually a possibility at that point in my life.

winter turning into spring was my favorite. i would lay on the dead, crunchy, brown remnants of the grass, the air around me crisp and cold, stabbing my lungs with every swift,
sharp breath. my nose rosy and cold, sniffling along every chill within my body. bare branches of tall oak trees
stretched into the white winter sky, seemingly reaching for the sunlight the tree craved and needed, as my pale, cold, minuscule hands clutched at the dry, barren earth beneath me- fumbling for more meaning of the world around me. why must seasons change, but my heart always feels the same?

you see, i resonate so very deeply with the winter months. gardens and patches of land that were once beaming with flora and fauna, life and expounding sunlight and warmth, now lay isolated, empty, sterile- similar to the child in me that once was jubilant and lively, but now turned into some thing so cold and ugly. the innocence has beend lost and the happiness within me has since been destroyed by the monster within me, which claims not only me as a victim, but those around me who love and care about me

i only know that i am loved and cared for because i’m continuously and perpetually told this upon a daily basis. it has become very prevalent to me that people feel much better about me when i validate that i know that they are here to talk and that i am loved. yes, i know this. but i cannot feel it. the love that you have for me is, in the least offensive way possible, absolutely irrelevant to my entire being.

you could listen to me rant for days upon weeks, you could read this bible that i’m typing. but i can never seem to make the people around me realize that i am never going to truly accept the love they offer me.

i often wonder if it is true love that inspires people to be there for those with depression- or if those surrounding me simply feel compelled to profess their love and support to me because they see my approval and wellbeing as a direct reflection of their credibility as a friend or family member.

i feel as if i am a burden to those around me, simply harshening the seemingly good mood that literally everyone else but me is capable of partaking in. i want to run with wild horses, frolic among wild flowers, hear the laughter of a child, hold hands with someone i love, and entertain deeply fulfilling and life changing relationships- but you see, the way my life is set up- i am actually emotionally incapable of doing so!

i am most aware of my unfortunate illness and incapability to be happy in the most unexpected and irrational times. take birthday parties, for instance. celebration and good vibes fill the air around me, seeping into my black, pitiful lungs. everyone around me smiles and sings, drowning in their jubilation, as i sit and watch. i want to have fun. please believe me. i want to sing happy birthday. i want to watch you open your gifts. i want to be as happy as you. i want to feel the warmth in my cheeks as i have the time of my life with my friends. but some thing within me compresses each and every slither of joy i am capable of feeling. i am suffocated by the downfall of my emotions and i am blinded by the reminder that depression doesn’t take breaks, not even at birthday parties. depression is strongest whenever you are faced with situations that expose you to the reality that you’re the odd one out- you’re sticking out like a sore thumb. you’re moping and you’re constantly staring out into space. what are you even looking at? what do you have to think about? you have nothing to live for, so anything beyond what’s right in front of you has no relevance in this whole scheme of life. so take it or leave it. you should be enjoying this birthday party. all the other kids are happy. you should be too. you’re lucky you even left the house today. so lucky. had you stayed home, you would have been 100% alone with your thoughts, rather than 97% along with your thoughts, due to the constant interruption of your moping and resentment by peers and parents and teachers asking “is everything okay?”

habitually, you nod. yes. everything is fine. i’m doing well, thank you. but what is the meaning of life? why do i feel like there’s a big fat man sitting on my chest and stomach and heart all the time? why do i always feel like i’m the only one in the room holding back tears trying not to cry? why are the other kids so happy? am i missing out on some thing? why do i feel so sad? why is it that every time i’m surrounded by people who say they love and care for me, i feel as if i’ve never been more alone before in my life? why? do you pity me? it’s just who i am. is that weird?

and oh my god i was always so desperate to be different. perhaps it was just the way my personality was set up. and i was always fairly extroverted. but it was presumably a persona that i put on. hey world, look at me. i’m silly and creative and ill say things that nobody else would say. pay attention to me, look at me.

because i needed them to watch. i hope you never feel so out of control of your body as me, to where you feel as if the only way that you can be saved is if other people figure out that you’re dying on their own. you don’t know how to come straight out and tell them, “hey, i really would rather not be alive at this given moment. i have visions of ending my own life. i use self isolation as a coping mechanism at times in order to feel like less of a burden on those who love me. i haven’t felt genuinely loved in a really long time. i’m so lonely. i could really use a friend right now.”

you can’t just say that. and i became depressed at 9 years old. how would a 9 year old even possibly articulate these complex and life threatening emotions that severely alter the way that every one of their peers perceives them. those middle years are crucial for making friends. it’s at that age that you have to find a group of 3 to 8 people who accept at least half of your given characteristics and occasionally invite you to partake in shit that kids do.

i wouldn’t know. i was a fleeting spirit. appearing and disappearing from cliques like it was clock work. there was more than one willow. there was the catty, witty willow- that found self-approval and approval from others by teasing and belittling others in order to build her own confidence up. then there was the sweet, flower child willow that sold daisy chains on the playground at recess at the price of one hug. there was the willow that stayed near the teachers at times because it was obvious that the other kids wanted nothing to do with her.

and as time progresses, the newer evolution of willow became prevalent. the willow that kept to herself most of the time, spending recess in the class room alone, drawing on the pages of her books, talking to herself, worrying her life away. everyone wondered - what was wrong with willow? or perhaps nobody noticed at all. maybe i was so insignificant even at such a young age- that the only time people considered me was in my dreams.

depression changes a person. some times, the change isn’t even tangible or noticeable to those surrounding the victim. some times, it is a slow discourse of the destruction of the spirit. it can slowly creep into your ear one ungodly night, and forever more whisper its awful lies into the victims ear, as it infects their whole body, their heart, their mind, their spirit, their hands, their eyes. everything. it slowly progresses into the uncontrollable loss of feelings and motivation to even maintain basic proper hygiene. it makes everything feel pointless. things are no longer worth the effort because you’re going to die no matter what, and that can’t come soon enough.

yes, depression can be slow and progressive. but that’s not the worst. the worst depression is the kind that sneaks up on you out of nowhere in the dead of night and immediately stiffens every hair on your body and turns your blood cold, making your mouth dry and your tongue numb. this depression hits you like a fucking train. it hits you in your most vulnerable state- comfort and normalcy. from that point on, you will never know normalcy again.

depression has a way of deceiving you into believing things that are crazy and untrue. but these things become so real to you as the depression progresses into a lifestyle that you come to know nothing else but the lies that depression will fill you with- so nobody can really tell you anything. it will call you names. it will tell you that you’re better off dead. it will be your only comfort- feeling nothing- during the night, whenever anxiety holds you until you pass out from exhaustion. you will never be cold at night as long as anxiety and depression have you snuggled up in between them.

oh how depression loves to kick you around and belittle you. oh how it renders your fantasies pointless. it loves to keep you hostage- to the point where any time you get an idea that doesn’t include moping around in your own sorrow, it immediately renders that idea impossible and reminds you that you are depressions bitch. you eat when depression finishes telling you how fat and disgusting you are. you sleep all day, so depression can take a dip in your nightmares. you wake up, and realize that life with depression is the true nightmare after all.

you pray for the day that you are relieved from this blinding madness and this subliminal torture. you feel as if you are not only a burden to your own self, but a burden to the people who love you and care for you

the only times when depression allows you relief from questioning the ulterior motives of those around you who claim to love you and care for you is when depression instead allows you to feel ashamed of your affliction. when you’re depressed, people notice. they may pretend not to and they may ignore it. but they know. they just don’t know what to say.

what would they say anyways?

hey. i’m sorry your brains are figuratively dripping out of your ears and i’m sorry that you have convinced yourself that i only care about you because i feel guilty, and i’m also sorry that you don’t even have the motivation to take a shower. i’m also sorry that you don’t
remember the last time that someone made you feel special. i’m sorry that you can’t find a reason to smile. i’m sorry that out of all the millionaires, the talented ones, the ones who fall in love, and the ones with nice asses- you were the one to end up hating yourself and everything around you.

ask yourself…. what do you say? what do you say to someone who is depressed?

know that i understand that you don’t know what to say. because yes this sucks. and i don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to wish you were dead. and i am so jealous of you for that. but please treat me the same as everyone else. please love me. make
me laugh. invite me to go shopping with you. get shit faced with me. help me fill the gaping hole in my soul with pointless memories of laughter and small talk. talk about life with me. listen to what i have to say. let me love you.

yes, i have depression. trust me, i will never forget! but please, help me feel normal. i don’t want to feel different than you. i want to be your peer, not your charity case.

i am dying to make friends. i am dying to spend less time in this bed writing shit like this. i am tired of letting this god damn disease walk all over me like i’m a fucking patch of dead grass.

life sucks. but please remind me that winter fades to spring. please remind me that some flowers are seasonal, and not every flower spends its whole life in bloom. remind me that you have to spend time in the dark to understand just how beautiful life in the sunlight is. remind me that there’s no cure for a bad day like a strawberry daiquiri and deep, controversial conversations with complete strangers.

remind me that my car has a sunroof and that it’s okay to open it up and let my hair get a little messy. remind me that music is better when it’s too loud to really interpret what the artist is saying- but you don’t have to understand to feel some thing.

remind me that i don’t have to lose this fight.

i am fucking hurting. but for the love of god, i’m begging you to help me fix me. because i forget that there’s good in the world. i forget that depression isn’t the boss of me. i forget that i have the whole world in my hands. i forget that there’s life after high school and that it’s okay to be alone some times, but it’s never okay to be lonely.

i will never forget what it is like to have my heart ripped out by a disease that i can’t even lay my hands on. perhaps i can touch the blisters under my eyes from
crying so much. perhaps i can run my hands along the holes i’ve punched in the walls from being so angry with myself. and yes i can feel how my bed is sinking in towards the ground because i spend so much time laying here trying to feel some thing besides utter destruction and loneliness. i can never forget what this disease has done to me. there will always be a piece of my heart that this depression has stolen from
me.

but with loving other people, i can aimlessly work to mend that hole. i can’t do it alone. i need a friend. i need you here with me.

i am so tired of being alone.
i will push you away at first. i may come off as helpless and a bitch. but please, that is the depression talking. it’s not willow.

willow loves the color pink
willow loves wild flowers
willow loves the smell of green onions
willow loves the feeling of sand under her feet
willow loves hearing about your childhood and how you had a speech impediment and a cat named angel
willow loves the smell of rain when it hits a hot sidewalk
willow loves to go barefooted
willow loves establishing connections with animals
willow loves willow, some times she just can’t see it

i need a gentle reminder of what it’s like to be a real normal teenage girl

this shit is hard. and being misunderstood makes it harder.

so i’m saying it loud and clear. my name is willow and i have clinical depression and generalized anxiety. my life has been a series of almost laughably awful events, which have resulted in said mental illnesses. i have been misunderstood, bullied, neglected, and hurt. but my story does not end here. i may never completely overcome my depression, but i will overcome my failure to acknowledge my illness. i will work to educate people about those who suffer as i do. i will help those with depression. i will be the friend that i have never had, but always needed, to anyone who wants it. i will be a testament to the depression that has oppressed me for 8 years now.

depression is not who i am. depression does not define me. what defines me is the fact that i am staying alive even though it is proving to be the biggest struggle that i have ever encountered, and i am asking that you help me and people like me. because it’s not a one person job.

my name is willow. and i’m telling you that depression is a rude ass bitch. but i’m a bigger bitch, and unlike my illness, i have the power to make people feel loved and valid. and i will use that power to overcome my depression.

i would like to dedicate this journal entry to everyone reading it. i may go to school with you, you may be just a random tumblr user, you may suffer with depression, you may suffer with some other deeply oppressive situation, you may just be a happy son of a bitch.
it doesn’t matter who you are. let this. journal entry be a testament to your life.

there are people with depression. and there is no way that i can ever explain to you just how it feels via tumblr text post or even via socratic seminar complete with gardens of text books and instructional videos. all i can say is that in this life, you are responsible for being there for the people around you.

you never know what someone is going through. people with depression practically have licenses and 4 year degrees in the field of putting up facades of being okay and sucking it up and repressing those explosive emotions. they don’t expect you to give a shit about them, because as far as they’re concerned, nobody has given a shit,
nobody currently gives a shit, and nobody ever will give a shit about them. they make it hard to help. but it’s so important that you break down those walls. and some times, all you need to do is smile at someone or invite someone to eat after school or to go to a party. you can’t do much for someone with depression. like i said, they’re a whole world away. their concerns and struggles are immaculate, indescribable. however, it doesn’t take much to show someone that you care even a little bit. even if it’s just picking and giving them a random flower.

if you suffer from depression or know anyone with depression and you need someone to look to for advice/help/inspiration, my DM’s are open. oversharing is caring. i know what it’s like to want to take your own life, and i fought the urge to do so even while writing this journal entry.

i am here for you. you are not by yourself. please DM me if you ever need someone to send you pictures of a cute animal to cheer you up, or if you even need me to talk you out of suicide. i know both feelings.

if you’re reading this,
i challenge you to go out of your comfort zone. yes you. i challenge you to do this one easy thing at either work or school, or out in public or in your family

1. pick 3 flowers, they can be store bought or you can have picked them yourself

2. give one flower to someone who you worry might have depression

2. give one flower to a random person who you don’t know

3. give one flower to a person you would like to get to know better, you never know when someone desperately needs a friend


it’s just a flower, but you could save someone’s life. some times, all people need is a gentle reminder that good things still exist and that somebody is thinking about them.

don’t be the person that assumes too high of a role or makes an excuse to not be able to participate in this challenge or share this journal.

you never know when you can save someone’s life.

remember: no matter who you are, i love you. and i am willing to comfort you in times of need. i’ve been where you are. and i know how much ass depression sucks.

my DM’s are open, and so is your future.
don’t end your story this early.

—  Willow Scalisi 4/18/17 (dam i just realized sonic got half priced burgers today, turn up)

I’m so happy you guys are still tuning in to my Jughead Serpent story! You guys are so awesome! ****** Last part:https://bughead4days.tumblr.com/post/160673823636/once-again-you-guys-amaze-me-with-all-the-support

Jughead slammed his hand against the metal trailer door, leaving it swinging open and letting the cool air filter into his dirty,stale home. He was so angry he couldn’t see straight, his knuckles were aching for something to hit and the closest thing was his kitchen cabinet.

The meeting at Snake bar went as well as could be expected, the older members of the Serpents were gearing up for quite the battle against Clifford Blossom and his many Riverdale cronies, F.P led the meeting declaring all out war and explaining his expectations, Jughead had been minding his own business leaning against a bar stool when he heard his name leave his fathers lips.

“We’ll need to get in their heads, show them no one is safe, not even their children, Jughead can lead the march on that one. The fight at Pops yesterday was a good start but we need more, go after more than the football team, I want you to take on every Riverdale High student you can, I know you all seem to have a way with the girls, work your way there.”

There were murmurs of agreement from the young boys as they high fived and grinned wickedly. Fortunately Keith and Dean came to stand behind Jughead, a few other Serpents following, they liked Betty, they wanted to keep her safe they wouldn’t go along with this stupid plan.

“You got that son?” F.P asked dangerously. His father had been scorned by Clifford Blossom and he would stop at nothing to take him down, Jughead knew parts of his old dad were buried deep inside the jaded, bitter man but it was getting harder and harder to find him.

“Yeah F.P, you got it.” He mumbled.

For a moment Jughead swore he saw his father flinch at the choice of name, but before he had a chance to analyze it, the man was back to discussing plans to take down the north side.

“This is what you were born into Jughead, this is your legacy” he mocked, spitting into the sink and slamming his hand on the countertop.

“Is now not a good time?”

He whipped around at the familiar voice and stared wide eyed as Betty stood nervously in his doorway, her tiny white skirt and soft yellow tank top stood out drastically against his dirty metal trailer.

Shaking his head quickly, he moved towards her, gently tugging her inside and away from prying eyes

“No! No, it’s never a bad time for you.” He smiled, placing a hand to her arm and tracing a finger over the veins on her wrist.

Betty looked at him skeptically before her eyes lit up
“Is that a dog?! You have a dog!” She pointed behind him and he turned to see his trusty sheep dog, hotdog, poking his head from behind the door. Looking back up to Betty’s eyes he couldn’t help but chuckle at the unrestrained excitement, he released her and she flew towards the shaggy white dog.

“Hi love! Your daddy didn’t tell me you existed, I would’ve come here a long time ago.” She giggled as the dog placed a sloppy kiss to her cheek, she pushed her face into his fur and scratched his belly. Jughead watched the scene with a goofy smile on his face, for some reason she seemed to fit perfectly into his trailer, her bright smile and laughter instantly lighting up his dark home, the Southside could use a little bit of her sunshine.
She looked up at him and smiled, beckoning him to come join her.

Dropping to his knees he scratched behind the dogs ear as Betty cooed lovingly, there was something unbelievably maternal about her, something Jughead hadn’t seen since he was six years old.

“He doesn’t get out much, especially now with the turf war going on. I can’t let him out of my sight, you never know the lengths these people will go to hurt people like me, can’t risk this one getting caught up in the cross fire.” He looked at her fully, his eyes boring into hers, hoping she understood his hidden message.

Betty looked back at him with equal intensity
“Well some things are worth getting hurt for. I think hotdog is willing to make that sacrifice.” She answered softly, her hand coming up to grasp his cheek as she stroked behind his ear, his eyes fluttering closed

“Hey! I’ve got a plan.” She pulled her hand away, standing up and brushing her hands on her skirt
“I think we could both use an escape, and hotdog could definitely use a place to run free for a bit, there’s a carnival over in Pembrooke it’s only a few towns over, that means the beach will be completely deserted, hotdog can run as far as his little heart can take him.” She bent down and ruffled the excited dogs fur “you’d like that wouldn’t you boy?”

The dog barked and wagged his tail, pushing his snout against Betty’s palm as she giggled, Jughead smiled, grabbing his Serpents jacket from its space on the couch and pulling her hand towards his truck, hotdog happily following along before hopping in the back seat.

Jughead never thought an hour long car ride could be so amusing, between Betty’s singing (and damn was her voice the prettiest thing he’d ever heard) and hotdog howling alone, he bought his face might break from smiling so much, she laughed along to his stories about Dean and his absolute hatred of anything alcoholic and he internaly celebrated when she described Her embarrassing childhood crush on Archie and how when they kissed she realized she felt nothing for him.

He only had to bite the inside of his mouth a few times when he noticed bruises he had never seen before as she lifted her arms up making the tiny tank top rise and reveal pieces of her stomach.

After about an hour of hotdog running through the water and Betty splashing Jughead with the salty ocean waves, they were both fairly exhausted as the sun went down but neither of the teens had ever felt so happy or content.

Clutching Betty’s hand as they watched hotdog trail the edge of the water Jughead heard her sigh softly

“I wish it could stay like this, we could just stay here, never have to go back, never have to worry about divided homes and responsibilities.” She whispered, reading his mind.

He squeezed her hand tighter and nodded
“I know, it just feels like.. like the world is closing in on me sometimes, like I’m right there in the ocean but I can’t get out, I’m drowning.” He looked down at her eyes and saw her nod understandingly, urging him to finish, to let it out.

“My dad.. he just.. he wants me to be this almighty Serpent prodigy, and yeah I love the Serpents, they’re my family but.. I don’t want it to be like this.. I don’t want our town to be separated. This responsibility to do what he thinks is right.. it’s all bullshit.”

Saying it all out loud, letting float into the waves, he felt like a heavy load had been lifted from his shoulders and it was all thanks to the beautiful girl beside him who was looking at him with complete understanding and respect.

“I get that” she said “I’m so tired of trying to do what everyone thinks is right. I’m so tired of letting everyone hurt me.” She instinctively placed a hand to the bruises on her wrist “but Jughead, with you right now? I feel safe, like I can be myself, I know it sounds silly but..” she was cut off by Jughead bringing her wrist to his mouth placing a gentle kiss to her bruises.

“It’s not silly, I feel the same way. I can’t remember a time where I’ve felt so… at home.” He whispered against her pulse.

Betty brought her free hand up to his cheek, cupping it and smiling shyly

“Are you gonna kiss me or not Jughead Jones”

With wide eyes Jughead didn’t waste a second, dropping his lips to hers and instantly melting, it was like a ship coming into dock, she tasted like strawberries and vanilla and he had to muffle his moan against her lips. She gripped the lapels of his jacket and brought him even tighter against her, the taste of cigarettes and peppermint was now officially one of Betty’s favorite flavors.

The moment was broken in a flash as Hotdog leaped on both of them sending them flying into the sand, Betty dropped on top of Jughead as Hotdog attacked his dads face with messy kisses.

“Alright boy! Okay!” He laughed freely, his hands coming around Betty’s waist and pulling her against his chest as they sat facing the ocean.

Sure there was a war going on in their very little town, but right here right now, two damaged kids had found their home and they weren’t giving it up for anything .

i want the paladins to get closer and closer, both emotionally and physically, as the show goes on. i could get into the ‘emotionally’ part but i’ll spare you of that. i DO wanna talk about the paladins being physically close though

i mean, think about it. there’s only 7 people on the castle, they’re all bound to get touch-starved eventually. so after a while, they just get really touchy-feely

(details under the cut)

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Hmm……..Who should I kill today? *Leaps up to the top of a skyscraper and looks around but the city is completely deserted* Oh yeah, I forgot……..I already killed everybody in the universe. Damn…….Now what am I gonna do? *Lights a cigarette*

Battle of Hogwarts House Breakdown Part 1:“Will You Join in our Crusade?”

So I mentioned in a previous post that I wanted to do a break down analysis of the text regarding how many students from each house actually stayed to fight in the battle of Hogwarts. Here is the text:

“the Slytherin table was completely deserted, but a number of older Ravenclaws remained seated while their fellows filed out; even more Hufflepuffs stayed behind and half of Gryffindor remained in their seats.”

Before we begin I want to stress point number 1 for all of them. These are teenagers all of whom are 17 and younger. If you were completely honest with yourself, could you picture yourself as a Junior in High School choosing to stay and fight the most powerful dark wizard of the time and his huge army of followers knowing you probably won’t survive? There is absolutely no shame directed at those who could have stayed but left. That’s not how this works. Now let’s break this down:

Slytherin: Now, thanks to Miss Parkinson’s outburst, McGonagall ordered Slytherin House to be escorted out of the Great Hall first. Please note that they are being escorted to the evacuation point (room of requirement) and not the dungeons! Too many people who are claiming to go off the book are saying all the students where sent to the dorms, which for Slytherin is the dungeons. This is in the film only. A Ravenclaw girl asks about getting their belongings, but McGonagall shuts her down and says everyone is leaving from the Great Hall to the evacuation point. 

I am willing to bet that there were a few, if not several, Slytherins willing to stay and fight. In fact, I believe there were some Slytherins fighting for Hogwarts even though no one stayed at the table. Here is why I think the table was empty.

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anonymous asked:

i hope you'll somehow still run this blog because ppl followed for your work and what you had created with your imagination and empathy. I hope you will cheer up, Love. If you still do requests, how about a vocation thingy ? With Jesse, Solider or Genji ? If you feel like it~ Lots of Love and best wishes, Anon

;-; thank you, sweetie <3 Also I went nuts. Roadtrip :D 

Masterpost 

Jesse McCree

 The strums of “Stand by your man” reached your ears as the bright, burning rays of sun began to dance across your face, waking you from your slumber at the back of the car. You slowly lifted your head off the leather of the back seats, the warm wind rushing through your hair, the sun-beaten landscape decorating your surroundings, bare yet beautiful. 

You rubbed your eyes, stretching your limbs and yawning. Your gaze was captured by your cowboy in the front seat, his chestnut strands dancing in the humid breeze, drumming his fingers on the wheel in-time with the beat of his terrible country songs. Jesse caught your movement in the rear view mirror and shot you a wide dog-like grin. 

“Hey, doll.” Jesse chuckled, leaning over and picking up his Peacekeeper from the passenger seat and placing it in the glove compartment safely. “Enjoyed your nap?” 

You leaned forward, kissing Jesse on his scruffy cheek before clambering into the shotgun seat, running your fingers through your hair, humming affirmatively. You pulled a face at his choice in radio choice, reaching over to change it. 

“Nuh uh, honey.” Jesse playfully slapped your hand away, instead intertwining his fingers with yours, stroking his thumb across your knuckles. 

“Where are we anyway?” You asked, squeezing his hand and looking around, the landscape looking like something that should be in an old western movie.

“I don’t know.” Jesse threw his head back and laughed, turning to gaze at you. “That’s amazing isn’t it?” 

“Being lost is amazing?” You questioned, smiling in spite of yourself. 

“We’re so damn lost.” Jesse sighed happily. “Talon doesn’t know where we are, Overwatch doesn’t know where we are, the world doesn’t know where we are. Kinda feels like freedom, don’t it?” 

You melted slightly. You kissed his knuckles lovingly before reclining back, stretching your hand up, letting the rushing wind press against your palm. Yeah. It did kinda feel like freedom. 

Soldier 76/ Jack Morrison: 

The highway your car was on was completely deserted, almost entirely silent if not for the steady hum of the engine. You looked up from the book you were reading out loud to Jack to look out of the window, the darkness coating the world in a dark blue tint. You dog eared the page you were on, tossing the book into the backseat, before looking at Jack, his silver hair gleaming in the moon-lit night and occasionally the artificial light of the bare street light. 

He didn’t seem as old in this setting. The night gently obscured the dark shadows underneath his tired eyes, made his harsh scars seem like they were lovingly drawn onto his face. His Alaskan-ice blue eyes momentarily glanced at yours, the edge of his lips quirked up in a smile. 

“Alright there?” Jack asked softly, watching the soft light dance over your features. 

You thought about your answer for a moment before smiling at him.

“Hmmm… Yeah. Yeah, I am.” You whispered. “You want me to take over the driving for a little bit?” 

“No, I think I can do a few more miles.” The soldier replied, looking the clock on the dashboard and rubbing under his eyes. 

You rolled your eyes slightly but accepted his answer, leaning over and kissing his cheek before tucking your legs underneath you on the seat, curling up slightly. 

“Are you all prepped to go on the Hanamura mission when we get back?” Jack asked, frowning slightly.

“Hey, Jack?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Forget Talon and missions and everything for a little bit.” 

Jack looked at you quickly, eyebrows raised slightly before smiling lovingly. He reached over and curled his pinky around yours, leaning back comfortably in his chair. 

“Sure.” 

Genji Shimada

 The sun was slowly coming up, it’s rosy-golden glow washing over you, painting the scenery in light. You sighed softly, glancing to the passenger seat next to you where a certain cyborg was napping, his mouth open and drooling slightly. You smiled at the sight, turning your gaze back to the road, tapping your index finger against the wheel and humming along to the J-Pop band that was singing on the mixtape you and Genji made for this trip. You pressed a button on the dash, the roof of the car reclining to let the cool air wash over you. 

Leaning over, you playfully poked Genji’s scarred cheek a few times until he stirred from his slumber, quickly shutting his mouth once he realized it had been open the whole time. He straightened up, wiping his mouth, the breeze making his soft ebony hair dance slightly. 

“Woooah. Look at that.” He noticed the dawn breaking, transfixed by the sight.  

You hummed in agreement, gazing at Genji lovingly for a moment before turning back to the road. Everything was slowly properly lighting up, the day slowly heating back up. You felt something gently nudge against your lips. Genji was gently poking one of his sweets against your mouth, grinning widely at you, eyes laughing. 

“Candy for breakfast?” You questioned him, taking a bite. 

“We’re on holiday, we could have cereal for dinner if we wanted.” He reasoned, popping the rest of the sweet into his mouth and stretching his limbs out. 

“Can you even taste it?” You asked, taking your hand off the wheel for a second to grab your water bottle. 

“Yeah, but the taste is dulled.” Genji replied, taking the bottle from you and opening it for you before giving it back to you. 

You drank deeply before giving it to him, enjoying the breeze against your face, his cool fingers touching your heated ones. Genji placed your water bottle back, smiling at you before looking back at the sunrise.

“Do we have to go back?” He suddenly asked. “Back to the headquarters? To the endless missions and training and… Everything?” 

“What makes you ask that?” You looked over to him, tilting your head. 

“It’s just… I’d rather do this. With you. Going nowhere, just happy with breathing and seeing.” 

“Soon, Genji. When all this is over, we can do this freely.” You promised, catching his hand and squeezing it. 

“I hope so.” 

100 Things [Jason Todd x Reader]

@litbatboys requested: “HI ITS @LitBatboys could you possibly do a Jason X reader where you guys are like on a date at an aquarium or smth and you are able to control water and he never new that but like finds it super cool and it’s one more thing he loves about you and as you walk he lists like 100 things he likes about you? idk it’s just there make it fluff my dude that was a weird prompt I’m soRRY”

A/N: I totally forget everything we discussed about, I’m sorry. It kind of sucks but I was so lost on how to write it XD I hope it’s okay though

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 717

MASTERLIST


The aquarium was completely deserted, it was only you and Jason, which was perfect. You always complained about how your dates were never ‘private’ because the places you two go to were so crowded and packed with people, but today was different.

“I still can’t believe you got Bruce to rent the entire place for the day.” you mumbled, shaking your head in disbelief.

Jason chuckled, “you better believe it, babygirl. I wanted to make this date as special as possible.”

“You being here already makes it special Jay.” you insisted, turning around and facing him while still walking. “You don’t need to go through all this trouble.”

“I told you.” he said, “I want to.”

“Whatever you say.” you sighed, knowing how stubborn your boyfriend could be. You stared at all the fish and the marine animals swimming in the tank behind the protective glass. They were incredibly beautiful, but you felt slightly sad that they were kept in this enclosure. You knew this aquarium aimed on protecting the marine life but you thought they deserved some freedom.

Walking up to the glass, you placed your hand on it and closed your eyes, focusing on a dolphin you saw earlier. You reached out for it–him, beckoning him to come closer to the glass. Once he was in front of you, you smiled at him and began to ask questions.

Jason watched you with curiosity and interest. At first, your actions puzzled him but after a few minutes it didn’t take a great detective to see what you were doing.

“[F/N], you can… talk to animals?” he asked, shocked. You stopped communicating with the kind dolphin and turned your head to him, smiling slightly.

“Ah… marine animals, actually… I never mentioned that?” You laughed sheepishly.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Guess it slipped my mind.”

Jason watched you continue communicating with the dolphin behind the glass. Soon, other animals approached you and the smile that appeared on your face must be one of the most beautiful things he had ever laid eyes upon.

Everything made sense now. You always told him you would never eat fish, even though you ate every other kind of meat. You loved marine life but you hated going to the aquarium, the exception being if the aquarium acted as protection for endangered species.

He shook his head in disbelief, finding you even more amazing now. He approached you and wrapped his arms around your torso, earning a surprised squeak from you and causing the animals to disperse, hiding behind the rocks and structures in the water.

“Jason!” you exclaimed, “don’t do that.”

“Sorry, you’re just too irresistible.” he chuckled. “I can’t believe you’d hide this from me.”

“I didn’t hide it, I forgot to tell you.” you corrected, pouting as you turned to face him.

“Yeah, sure you did.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess now I have another thing to add to my list.”

You frowned. “What list?”

“A list of 100 things I love about you.” Jason stated, grinning proudly.

You scrunched up your face. “That’s so cheesy.”

“Yeah, but you know you love it.” he claimed, stealing a kiss from you. This time it was you who rolled your eyes. You took his hand and led him through the aquarium, the marine animals inside the tank following you and waving at you as you waved back.

“So, are you going to tell me the other 99 things you love about me?” you inquired casually, you were terribly curious.

“You sure you want to know?”

“If I didn’t, why would I ask?” you scoffed.

Jason laughed at how impatient you were. “Fair point.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, number one; I love the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about something you’re passionate about.”

“Really? That’s so minor.” You cut him off, looking at him skeptically. He gave you a loving smile.

“It’s the little things that make me fall for you even more, cupcake.” he said with genuine love, causing you to blush.

“O-Okay… are all of them like this?” you said shyly, feeling flustered by his answer.

“Pretty much.” he said before continuing to go through his list. God knows how he remembered all of it.

But having Jason be romantic was a little nice for a change.

dailymail.co.uk
First Palm Sunday since IS in Iraq's main Christian town

Members of Iraq’s Christian minority celebrated Palm Sunday in the country’s main Christian town of Qaraqosh for the first time since it was retaken from the Islamic State group.

Hundreds of faithful gathered inside the town’s burnt out Immaculate Conception church for mass before starting the traditional Palm Sunday march, a procession during which palms are carried to commemorate Jesus’s entry to Jerusalem.

Thank God, we are returning to our towns and churches after two years,” Abu Naimat Anay, an Iraqi priest, said inside the church, which is Iraq’s biggest and where jihadist inscriptions were still visible on the walls.

Qaraqosh, with an overwhelmingly Christian population of around 50,000 before the jihadists took over the area in August 2014, was the largest Christian town in Iraq.

It was retaken by Iraqi forces late last year as part of a massive offensive to wrest back the nearby city of Mosul from IS but it remains almost completely deserted.

The archbishop of Mosul, Yohanna Petros Mouche, moved back to the town last week but it needs to be extensively rebuilt and basic services restored before displaced Christians can return en masse.

…Many of the more than 120,000 Christians believed to have fled their homes when IS swept across the region less than three years ago moved in with relatives or into camps in the nearby autonomous region of Kurdistan.

The celebration in Qaraqosh already had a sombre mood when news broke among the faithful that IS had attacked two churches in Egypt, killing at least 38 people.

The Christians are persecuted, but no matter how much they target us, our belief in God is great and we will stay here because we are not outsiders, we are the owners of the land,” the archbishop told AFP.

You’re My Open Road

Swoops/Kent, continuation of The Legend of Kent Parson’s Sex Hair.

read on ao3

Swoops suggests the road trip off-hand, between topics of a stream-of-consciousness conversation they’re having on a bus to Boston. Kent is leaning on Swoops’ shoulder and has been for the last hour. Nobody questions it anymore. They’ve been in each other’s pockets since last summer, and if they’ve suddenly started to gravitate a little closer than before, well, nobody asks and they’re not telling. But there’s always an open seat for Kent next to Swoops, or vice versa, whenever the team is on a bus or a plane or at a restaurant or hanging out at someone’s house yelling abuse over a non-hockey sports game that few of them really care about. 

It’s as close to open acceptance as they’ll get, short of coming out. Swoops is willing to grab it with both hands and push the boundaries of acceptable PDA as much as Kent and their respective careers will allow.

Kent is leaning on Swoops’ shoulder and Swoops is leaning against the window of the bus. The arm-rest between them has been pushed up so Kent can squeeze close and Swoops can put an arm around him. Kent’s voice has gotten drowsy and his responses slow. When Swoops says, “You wanna take a road trip this summer?” he gets a sleepy mumble in reply.

“Road trip?”

“Yeah. Pack up the bare minimum and just hit the road. Drive ‘til we get somewhere. Sleep in bad motels and cheap campgrounds.” He realizes that he’s absentmindedly stroking Kent’s arm with the tips of his fingers. It’s blatant affection but he can’t seem to stop.

“…You wanna take a road trip in your SUV?” Kent asks. “That’s like going to a drive-in in a limo.”

“We’ll rent something. It doesn’t even have to be a car,” he adds, thinking out loud. “My aunt did a cross-country thing with her biker group.”

Kent gives a light snort against Swoops’ shirt. “You’d need a motorcycle license.”

“I’ve got one. Just haven’t ridden for a while.”

Swoops thinks he can feel Kent’s smile. “You? Really?”

“Yeah? Why, you think I’m lying?”

“No. Just, I don’t know. You don’t seem the type. You’re so straight-laced.”

I fucked you in a supply closet in the Vegas Hockey Arena, Swoops thinks. I fucked you ‘til you couldn’t speak; ‘til you were so sweaty and shaking so badly that I almost dropped you. What he says is, “I’m full of surprises.”

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