do not run in my town

Headcanon

Sportacus can’t say no. Because he’s a Hero after all, he has to help everyone, that’s what heros do. And usually he’s fine because he’s brimming with energy but even that has to have an end at some point, and maybe the towns people forget that. So they all have him running all over the place, saving people, doing errands or day to day chores, or just playing with the kids and it starts to wear Sports down but he hides it under smiles and some flips and eats some more sportscandy which works until the flips aren’t as easy to do anymore and the smile is harder to keep up but Sportacus is at this point so far into denial that he’s just like
‘Yés I åm ƒîné, nøthîng îs wrøñg thîs îs ƒîné.’
So of course he slowly starts to break down and the kids notice, and ask if he’s okay but he just answers :}D and they don’t know what to do until he enter Robbie Rotten who takes one look at Sportastress and goes
‘Nope. You’re a mess.’
and drags the elf to his lair, because Robbie has no trust in the airships height or Sprotacus’ current ability to climb up said height, then all but ties the other to a bed that showed up?? To get some rest because really Sport, How are you suppose to save people if you cant even keep yourself going? And so Sportacus gets Some Rest™ and feels greats after and is very thankful and happy again and I just really like the idea of Sportacus getting too caught up in helping to remember to take some time for himself

High School Humor

Context: My highschool’s teacher has begun to run a d&d group. To let everyone ease into the game, we’re playing in the forgotten realms, with pre made characters and things of the like. We have finally returned to a town after a long day of questing, only to be greater by a flock of silver and black dragons crashing into the town manor. Our Bard and Sorcerer, the latter of the two being a silver dragonborn himself, convince the party to help the dragon and kill the swarm of humans attacking it. We do just that, and are now talking to the rider of the silver dragon, who is recruiting us for his army.

Knight-Rider: “…So will you join the army and save the continent?”

Bard: “Yes indeed!”

Paladin (me): “Wait, if I join this army, do I get my own holy dragon to ride?”

Knight-Rider: “Well, we’re low on silver dragons… Unless you are deemed important, that’s going to be a no.”

Me: “Well, could I ride (sorcerer) instead?”

DM, ooc: “I don’t care what happens after school, just keep it out of our session for now.”

Nothin’ I Would Rather Do by lululawrence

“Louis,” Anne said sternly. “You know I have no problem with you working overtime if you need to, but I can’t have you running yourself ragged. At this rate you won’t have the energy or stamina to make it to the party yourself!”

“I’ll be fine, Anne. I swear.”

Her bright eyes sparkled as her smile turned a bit more coy and Louis knew immediately what was coming next.

“I hope so, because you know, my son will be in town and coming to the party.”

Louis froze. In all the months of her talking about her son and saying they should meet, she never once mentioned that he would be coming to the Christmas party. Well, fuck.

or…the one where Anne is determined to set Louis up with her son, but he’s perfectly happy with the random sexting “relationship” he has running with the random he met at a bar several months back.

read on AO3 here.

For many decades, my father used to walk across town to do his food shopping on Second Avenue. He often shopped at a Gristede’s around the corner from Miss Hepburn’s town house on East 49th Street.

One day he suddenly came face to face with Miss Hepburn, who was also picking up groceries. He acknowledged her with a nod, and she responded in kind. He began thinking of her as a neighbor.

In 1983, my senior year at Bryn Mawr, Miss Hepburn’s alma mater, I was frustrated and was doing poorly, and at Christmas break, I decided to quit. I had the romantic notion of running away to Scotland to write screenplays. My father was frantic. My mother had died two years before, leaving him with all the responsibility for his headstrong daughter.

He knew that Miss Hepburn had gone through her own struggles at Bryn Mawr, so he wrote her a letter asking her to intervene. “She’s a great admirer of yours, and perhaps she’ll listen to you,” he wrote. On the way to the grocery store, he dropped the letter in her mail slot.

At 7:30 the next morning, the phone woke me up. I answered it and heard that famous voice, crackling with command. “Is this the young woman who wants to quit Bryn Mawr?” I said it was. “What a damn stupid thing to do!” she snapped. She went on to give me a lively lecture, the gist of which was that I had to finish my studies and get my degree, and after that I could do what I wanted to do. There was no arguing with her imperiousness. Then she said she wanted to meet us for tea.

The day of our appointment was gray and wintry. Walking the long blocks to Turtle Bay, my father and I didn’t speak much. It felt as if we were about to meet the Queen.

Miss Hepburn greeted us warmly. With casual hauteur, she provided us with tea and some of her famous brownies. Though she was in her 70’s, she had a youthful look, enhanced by her girlish clothes: a turtleneck, a black cardigan and shabby khaki-green pants.

We talked about many things, including Bryn Mawr. She said that she was miserable there and still had nightmares about it, but she was glad she went. At the end of the afternoon she told me, in a rather grim tone, “You’re smart.” It was a compliment, but also an admonition not to be foolish in the future.

My father was invited to visit her a few times after that. Once, he had heard that she was recovering from a serious car accident, and he stopped by to drop off a package of homemade brownies and a get-well note. To his surprise, he was ushered in and invited into her boudoir, where she greeted him in her nightgown. She sampled his brownies.

“Too much flour!” she declared. She then rattled off her own recipe, which he hastily wrote down. “And don’t overbake them! They should be moist, not cakey!”

I’ll always be grateful to Miss Hepburn for making me stick it out at Bryn Mawr and for giving me these rules to live by: 1. Never quit. 2. Be yourself. 3. Don’t put too much flour in your brownies.

Tootie

So after our female half-elf ranger tripped in alchemist’s lab tent, her sunrod goes flying and lands in the machine. She proceeds to run back as fast as she could to the rest of the group (a female human rogue and a male gnome cleric[Me]) who are on horses.

Ranger: let’s get the hell out of here!!
Rogue: What did you do?!?
Ranger: No time to explain just ride!

-The entire Alchemist tent Town blows up and we’re riding to avoid getting caught in it-

DM: -rolls percentile for each of us-
DM: [Rogue] roll for straight dexterity
Rouge: -Rolls 19-
DM: you reach up suddenly and manage to catch a flying sunrod
OOC Ranger: Dafuck??
DM: [Me, Cleric] roll for ride check
Me: -Rolls a Nat 20-
DM: -turns to me- As you are riding it feels like your war pony is flying as there is a foul smelling stench coming from behind you
DM: -turns to the others- you manage to see [Me] war pony seem to float right next to you guys as you all hear a long farting noise while you ride managing to avoid the explosion
Group: -proceeds to laugh-
Me: I’m gunna call her Tootie

Holster doesn’t know what to do after graduation. He’s mulling over his options on his computer during a get together with the team and some of the graduated players. 

 "Hey, the fire station in town runs courses on becoming a firefighter. Doesn’t that sound cool, Rans?“ 

 Johnson, faster than anyone’s ever seen him move, darts to Holster’s side, slams his laptop shut, looks Holster deep in the eyes, and very dangerously, quietly whispers, "No.” 

Holster never suggests it again.

There’s a universe where we have four dogs and a small 17th floor apartment in downtown Chicago and there’s one where we’re childhood friends playing tag in the cul de sac. There’s a universe where we’re strangers pressed up against each other in the crowded elevator of a Wall Street investment firm and there’s a universe where I sit beside you in English class and memorize the way your brows furrow when you’re talking about Hemingway. There’s a universe where all we do is exchange a shy smile as I bump into you on my way off the subway and one where we’re celebrating our 45th anniversary over a slice of apple pie from the small diner across town. There’s a universe where we meet in a basement lit with Christmas lights when you sit down next to me on the couch with the leather peeling off and I run my fingers through your curls while some boy stumbles into the coffee table and spills his beer. There’s a universe where you set my favorite sweater on fire and one where you finally apologize for the lies and the yelling and the holes in the wall, and, of course, there’s this universe, where nothing ever goes the way it should.

A little reminder

Can we be honest about PMS for a second?

It’s brutal. Maybe it’s just me. It turns me into something resembling Satan himself and I absolutely hate it. All of my emotions are running around in my head like little chickens with their heads cut off while I’m a weeping mess.

If you’re anything like me, let me remind you of a few things tonight.

  • You are not your emotions
  • Those emotions do not equal truth
  • It’s perfectly fine to cry. Even over stupid things. Even over nothing at all. It’s perfectly alright. 
  • You are not ugly
  • You are not crazy
  • This is not a forever feeling
  • If the same jeans you wore yesterday aren’t nearly as comfortable today, you go ahead and put some stretchy pants on girl. 
  • Give yourself heaps and heaps and heaps and heaps of grace

Y’all, it’s tough. I’m reminding myself of these tonight as I cry over ice cream cake that wasn’t the flavor I wanted. I’m giving myself grace and you already know I’ve got those stretchy pants on. We’ll make it, girls. 

Jingle Balls

Summary: Negan Claus is coming to town.
Request Summary: 2-in-1.
1. “Can you do one where there’s a girl in the Sanctuary that really likes Christmas and she misses it when it starts getting cold again and she’ll hum Christmas songs and so on. So Negan starts leaving her Christmas-y stuff that he finds on runs” – Anon. 2. “Can you do a imagine with negan x liv (my name) :)))??” - @ahappysoul0
POV: Liv
Characters: Negan, Liv
Word Count: 1862
Warnings: Cursing
Author’s note: Wow, would you look at that. I’ve finally done a one-shot. 
Parts: 1/1 - Completed
Quote of the story: “Damn, how about you switch it up and jingle my balls for a change instead of busting them all the damn time.”

MASTERLIST

Keep reading

my father works a normal office job for the city. today he got a call from police that an emu was running around town and that they didnt know what to do.
so he took off to catch that fat bird with some police officers and a vet. they narcotized the bird and put it into a car. while driving to the vetenarian the bird woke up.
growing up in our little town i’m not wondering about fucked up stuff like corruption, incest or pure boredom anymore. but what i wonder about is->
who loses an emu? who loses an emu in germany? why is there an emu in our little ass town running around that has to be catched by doofy police officers vets and office guys?

xakise  asked:

Elsewhere on the internet we're having a discussion about run-ins with profanity filters and how they teach you bad words you didn't know ere bad words, but it's kind of turned into funny instances of filters doing strange things. My favorite so far has to be the sentence "Do you need any buttistance?" because instead of telling you that you can't post or putting * to censor it just changes the 'bad' word into something 'not bad' and we have all been laughing about the word 'buttistance'

Holy balls that’s amazing xD The profanity filter for Town of Salem was hilarious, it just turned the words into like old timey terms of exclamation. :p

Games I Like The Most

Do you know what I really, really like in my computer games? Having some rubbish, run down community/town/whatever and rebuilding it/investing in it/making it awesome again.

I mean, citybuilders are fun an everything, but I’m not talking about “start from nothng and see how it goes.” it doesn’t quite hit my buttons in the same way. I’m talking about town in a terrible state and me slowly working to make it all better again.

Like my favourite bits of assassin’s creed wasn’t the running or the jumping or the killing people (though those were cool) It was investing in the cities and stuff and making it all shiny and lively again.

Are there any PC games anyone knows of that focus on that? I realise it’s a pretty obscure gaming desire, but I thought I’d ask <3

Songs That People Should Really Listen To (with links)

So I did these on my last blog, so might as well continue the tradition!

Love My Mom

She broke her ankle the Monday before Christmas, and so is on some fun pain meds. Today one of my Christmas presents got delivered a little late, and she had her neighbor, who was visiting my town to do some shopping, run it over to me along with a note.

Like… I LOVE the present, because I wanted these so bad, so I squealed a lot when I saw them.

But the note. THE NOTE. I love that i can tell she wrote it soon after taking her pills, and that I can see the EXACT moment that she really started feeling them. XD She’s an awesome lady.

I feel like the worst thing (for me) about (probably*) having EDS is that I still can do stuff, it’s just not good for me. Like… I might avoid going to town with friends because my joints are too weak/I’m too tired/it’s a bad pain day, but then I’ll continue to run up the stairs a bazillion steps at a time, or I’ll do a cartwheel just for funsies or something. And I feel like most people are gonna look at that and I think “well they clearly can do physically taxing things so they’re just being lazy/using EDS as an excuse”.

Because the problem is never that I can’t physically do something, it’s that my body I going to suffer after I’ve done it. But I feel like so few able-bodied people get that?

Like with my walking stick… I use it about ¼ or 1/5 of the time I go out. And I could just pack it away and walk without it. But I feel like when somebody sees me walking with a stick and another time walking perfectly fine without it, they just assume I’m faking and don’t really need it. I don’t use my stick because I’m incapable of walking without it. I use my stick because the more I use it, the easier and the less painful/stressful/difficult/uncomfortable walking will be later.

My joints don’t hurt very much or very acutely once I actually get going. It’s when I stop. They just give up and give way, or ache like nobody’s business. So yeah, I could constantly push myself, never use my stick, do more exercise etc. but if I did that I’d completely crash once I stopped. I’d feel really drained, unstable, weak and in pain that evening and the following day.

And perhaps worse than other people’s opinions is the way I internalise it? Like… I feel guilty every time I do something that requires exercise or is physically taxing, like hike, or run during a warm-up game, or do cartwheels, just because it’s fun. I will suffer later on - the more I’ve done in a day, the more drained I feel and the worse it affects me. I know I need to look after myself. But doing something that’s physically taxing and boring has no plus side. Whereas at least I get enjoyment out of doing things that are physically taxing but really fun? I mean… why should I have to conserve all my energy for work and obligations? Am I not allowed to use some energy for having fun?

Take, for instance, a few weeks ago - some friends and I went to the beach. We played frisbe, walked long distances up and down the sand, and I spent quite a bit of time prancing around, leaping and bounding from one boulder to another on the rocks. It was a little dangerous, and very physically tiring, but mostly it was outrageously fun. To me, it feels almost like flying and I haven’t done it since I was a kid.

But by the time evening came and we were meandering around town and looking for a place to eat, all that exercise was taking its toll and my leg joints gave way continuously. At one point my hip gave way without any warning and I literally hit the deck, right in the middle of the road.

But as embarrassing as it was to collapse like that, I didn’t regret over-exerting myself, because even though I know I should take care to look after myself and never over-exert myself or do too much, I haven’t had that much fun in ages.

Even so, I’m constantly feeling guilty over not doing much physically taxing work-related stuff, while often still indulging in physically taxing fun stuff. And I know so many people probably look at me and assume I’m either lazy or making the whole thing up, because how could somebody possibly find it a challenge walking to lectures, but do a cartwheel when they get there? How could somebody possibly prance around on the rocks at the beach, but need a walking stick to walk 100m to the nearest restaurant?

And I just find it so frustrating and invalidating…..

Ok, crazy Lazytown Headcanon thing, but I figured that it would be fun to share as a one-off kind of a deal.

So, what if towards the end of the series, or just after the finish, Robbie Rotten just suddenly leaves town one day, driving some sort of crazy stylish, loud, and gasoline consuming vehicle through and out of LazyTown. Assuming a scheme of sorts, Sportacus, Stephanie and co. go to his lair, to find things hurriedly packed and scattered about, and a note sits on one of the tables labeled To my Nemises. When opened, it reads something of the following.

To Sportacus,

You all may be wondering as to why I left town in such a hurry today. Why I, Robbie Rotten, the laziest and villain number one, would run out of town in such a hurry. To tell you, it is nothing of your business, and you should not be going through my things while I am gone. For do not worry, I will be back. And when I do, I will have the grandest and most daring scheem to stop you yet Sportacus!

Sincerely,

Robbie Rotten

The crew reacts oddly, but not too surprised at the act. Perhaps he’s gone to grab something for a grand scheme of his? Maybe he’s gone to get some help. They quietly work together to tidy up the place, and leave a polite little note saying that they would wait for him to come back, and a list of where they put things, before leaving the place alone.

A few worry when he doesn’t come back in a few hours. More come when it’s a few days later, and there’s been no sign of him. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and months turn into years. Stephanie grows from child to woman, and takes over as mayor when her uncle decides to retire at the age of 65. Pixel now runs a successful computer business, Trixie , Stingy helps run the local bank, and Ziggy runs a bakery/confectionery. Sportacus si still there, aged moreso, but still in impeccable shape and keeping the townspeople healthy (It’s improved the lifespan of most of the elderly by ten years at least). They’ve long since stopped thinking of Robbie Rotten for the most part, with the exception of Sportacus. Even to this day, he wonders where one of what he considered his closest friends had just up and left to. He doesn’t talk about it much, with Stephanie being one of the few that knows his concern about it. She’s talked to him a few times, but he usually avoids the subject for the most part.

And then one day, a car shows up out of the blue. It’s the same colors as the old one hat Robbie Rotten gout out of town with, but sleeker, smoother, and far less flamboyant than it had been. No one knows what to make of it at first, as it obeys traffic laws without issue, before going to the garage door of the town’s old villain and parking inside. Some of the town talk, with Sportacus and Stephanie going to investigate.

What they find is an older, aged man that looks a lot like Robbie Rotten standing inside, looking around the lair. He turns towards them, a sparkle in his eye and a slight smile on his face. He doesn’t introduce himself, just starts the conversation off simply.

“You tidied up after I left.”

“Yes, but we expected you back much sooner. We left things around as needed afterwords.”

“Thank you. It’s good to be home.”

He quickly whips up a pot of ginger tea with a touch honey, much to the surprise of Stephanie and Sportacus. While he shares the tea, he explains why he had run off that day, and had been gone for so long. It had all happened that morning, while getting ready as lazily as he could. An accidentaly mishap with his uniform made him readjust his shirt, and he felt a lump that hadn’t been there before. His mind had gone to his grandpappy Richard Rotten, who had died quite painfully of cancer. Fearing the same for himself, he quickly rushed out of town to the nearest hospital that could help him find out if it was what he dreaded. He had planned on it being something unnoticeable, and being back in a few days, to not put worry on anyone about something small.

Instead, they had found him with Stage II pancreatic cancer, and nearly immediately put him on treatments. It took months of hospital beds and chemotherapy, turning him into a shell of what his strength had once been but he survived. And while through the treatments, through the physical therapy that made him able to walk again and try to live as best as he could back to his normal life, he had time to think. These people hadn’t cared that he was the villain of LazyTown, they had helped him unconditionally out of kindness. Seeing this as a second chance, to have escaped death’s clutches so close, maybe it was a message to retry and find who he really was, to see if there was something better he could do with his life.With an idea, he swore that he would come back to LazyTown when he was happy that he was a better person. He would go on about the various adventures he went on, before ending with that he had felt it time to come back to where he really belonged, being . Sportacus and Stephanie listen, sympathetic to his story (Sportacus knowing that sometimes you need the time to find yourself after such a thing, Stephanine knowing perhaps from a family member going through a similar thing).

He slowly intergrates back into LazyTown society again, not without it’s issues. Several of the members who went against him as kids have a hard time readjusting to their old nemisis. For a few, he helps out around their businesses and tries to show that’s he’s changed (Maybe with a song about how a villain isn’t always a bad guy). This comes to a culmination as a nasty new villain comes into town, trying to take down the famous Sportacus to boost his own fame. It’s far more brutal than any of his previous fights, and almosts win against him, when all of a sudden, a net tangles up his legs and the villain falls. Behind him, Robbie stands with his old suit on, and helps Sportacus up. Sportacus acting surprised, Robbie explains fairly simply.

“No hotshot from out of town tries to take my spot and defeat my hero without having Robbie Rotten intervening.”

The two then work together to defeat the newcomer, with Robbie’s scheming on the fly skills and Sportacus’s physical ability being perfect to send the newcomer running away like a little baby. The town comes out, cheering on both Sportacus and Robbie as the heroes of LazyTown. For the first time in a long time, he laughs a genuine laugh and celebrates with the victory, being home again once more.

I’m not saying that I need this in my life, but I’m saying it would be really fucking good to see.

Little Big Town just revealed that Taylor wrote this!!!

LITTLE BIG TOWN - Better Man 

I know I’m probably better off on my own
Than lovin’ a man who didn’t know
What he had when he had it
And I see the permanent damage you did to me
Never again, I just wish I could forget when it was magic
I wish it wasn’t 4am, standing in the mirror
Saying to myself, you know you had to do it
I know the bravest thing I ever did was run

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I can feel you again
But I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man
And I know why we had to say goodbye
Like the back of my hand
And I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man
A better man

I know I’m probably better off all alone
Than needing a man who could change his mind at any given minute
And it’s always on your terms
I’m hanging on every careless word
Hoping it might turn sweet again
Like it was in the beginning
But your jealousy, I can hear it now
You’re talking down to me like I’ll always be around
You push my love away like it’s some kind of loaded gun
Boy, you never thought I’d run


Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I can feel you again
But I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man
And I know why we had to say goodbye
Like the back of my hand
And I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man
A better man
Better man

I hold onto this pride because these days it’s all I have
And I gave you my best and we both know you can’t say that
You can’t say that
I wish you were a better man
I wonder what we would’ve become
If you were a better man
We might still be in love
If you were a better man
You would’ve been the one
If you were a better man
Yeah, yeah

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I can feel you again
But I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man
And I know why we had to say goodbye
Like the back of my hand
And I just miss you and I just wish you were a better man
A better man
Better man

We might still be in love, if you were a better man

Better man…