eighteen miles


Sometimes you just gotta write your version of the finale of a show before it actually airs because you’re not sure you’re going to be able to handle the actual version of it.

“Talk to your mom yet?”

Clarke’s head jerks up from the radio in her hands, nearly dropping it in surprise. She rolls her eyes, hiding both her guilty expression and the immediate comfort she feels in his presence.

“Yep.” She can’t muster up much else. She’d become an expert at goodbyes at this point, the exact moment in the back-and-forth to switch off the part of her that was trying hang on to any ounce of stability it could find. However, she’d allowed herself to slip a bit, the conversation over the crackling radio to her mother, the person she’s said “final” goodbyes to the most. Recently, her vulnerability had been rearing its head more and more as the world began to end. Swell timing, she’d thought morosely.

“She take it well?”

Another example of Bellamy’s quick wit. Normally, it was a comfort to her, a reminder that there was someone to meet every sigh, every worry, every dilemma with a mind that existed on just the same wavelength. Someone who could somehow pull her back from tumbling into her darkest places with a few words that put a fraction of a smile on her face and a much more significant warmth in her chest.

Keep reading


I sort of went off the deep end with this one. Oops. A Zombie Apocalypse AU. Content warning: Death. Implied violence. 

Even though it was impossible to forget, Mike was sure to keep his memories close, a constant reminder of all that they had lost right under his fingers. He could feel the notches in the worn wood each time he picked up his bat. They burned his fingertips each time he swung to save his own life. Five marks scratched into the handle of the weapon he held close at all times. Five marks he stared at without fail each night before fitful sleep took him.

Five memories that he’d rather not have, but that he’d never allow himself to leave behind.

The first notch was for his father, carved several days after the world Mike had once known fell apart. The news had broken at mid-afternoon and the phone lines were immediately useless. No matter how many times Karen, frustrated to tears, punched in the number to Ted’s office, she got nothing more than the buzzing of a dead line. Ted had not come home that evening. Or the next day. Or the next. After that, Hopper suggested they assume the worst.

Mike ran his fingers over the second notch and felt a thick lump grow in his throat. Hopper.

They would never have made it out of Hawkins without him and it had been critical for them to leave the town. Hopper never explained why, but Mike figured it was safe to accept that he knew something they didn’t. After taking on a job at the Lab, Hopper always seemed to know something they didn’t. Mike would never forget the look on his face; the set expression of fierce determination. He’d never forget the words on his lips; Go. Now. Uttered with such untroubled satisfaction and surety that they had done just that. 

Mike pressed into the second notch and held in a sigh. Was it horrible he had cried when carving a mark for the Chief when his eyes had been dry for his father? 

The third notch was the worst. Mike couldn’t touch it. He could only look, his gaze hard and his chest tight as it had been when he carved it.

Dustin had never been one for this world and Mike suspected that, after several weeks of grotesque horrors, he just gave up. In retrospect, Mike believed he had seen it in Dustin’s eyes for a long while and wondered if he should have said something. Could he have changed something?

He tried not to dwell on those thoughts, as they always led to the question Mike dreaded most. Am I cut out for this world? Lucas was tough as nails and determined. Will had experienced hell and survived once, of course he could do it again. Max was fearless, smart, and quick. And El…El could protect herself. Her entire life had been spent learning to endure. In himself, Mike saw none of the things he saw in his friends.

Yeah, the third notch was the worst. Everyone had looked at each other in shocked, horrified silence until Jonathan had stepped forward, tears in his eyes. Mike had to turn away into El’s shoulder, his hands coming up to shield his ears while El whispered comforting words to him.

Jonathan. He was notch number four. He had left camp one day with Steve and had never come back. Steve returned with a trunk full of canned goods salvaged from a store eighteen miles out and a glassy look in his eyes. No one said anything as the car door slammed shut and Steve cut a harsh path to Joyce’s tent, his feet throwing up dust as they dragged along the dry ground.

Steve got reckless after that. Detached and impulsive, he was notch number five.  It was Nancy who stepped forward that time, but there were no tears in her angry eyes. Mike noticed, days later, the same glassy and distant expression on her face that he had seen on Steve’s and Mike worried that his sister would become notch number six.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

“We don’t have to do this,” Lucas placed a hand firmly on her wrist and looked at her earnestly, his imploring eyes meeting hers, hard and cold.

“We do,” El said hoarsely. She shook free of Lucas’s grip and watched him sink back against the wall, defeated, before she placed the knife against the wood. She felt numb, her mind detached from her body as her hand began to mechanically scratch a sixth notch into the handle of the bat.


the problem with being a parent: you always want your child to do better than you. 

the couple lived in syria and had no troubles, that is until the mother-in-law grew sick with breast cancer. fulfilling their duty as good children, they moved to britain to live with and take care of her. but they didn’t speak english so well, and they didn’t have the opportunity to apply for any postsecondary education, not when the woman was pregnant with a child and they needed money now. miles’ mum owned a laundromat and tailorshop, while his father owned an autobody repair shop and sold auto parts as well. they weren’t poor, they just didn’t have many luxuries. one of those luxuries was being able to have multiple children. miles upshur was an only child, but his childhood was happy regardless. miles’ parents worked him to the bone because they wanted him to know the value of working hard. honors in school, sports, jobs, volunteering, he did it all in the hopes that he would have as many open doors as possible in the future.

at eighteen years old miles finally scrounges enough money to go to school in america to study his passion, journalism. although they were sad to see him go, his parents made sure he’d be living with other family members and would be provided for no matter what. they could have never known the things that waited for their son.



The Lenape Natives initially lived along the Delaware River Valley in parts of New Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania –from which they received their more common name, Delaware. They became dependent on the colonies and became so involved in the trade of pelts and furs that they eventually killed off most of the mammals in their area –they soon grew impoverished and were forgotten as traders abandoned them for the Iroquois Natives to the north. Under the threats of poverty, conflict, alcoholism and disease, the Lenape numbers had dwindled from about ten to twelve thousand to about three thousand since contact was made with the Europeans.

“-as small groups sold their land or were forced from it at various times. The scattered, decimated, and unorganized bands … soon gathered, or were gathered, as they had never been in pre-European times. The ‘towns’ that grew up in the river valleys of Pennsylvania in the early decades of the eighteenth century were not formed from homogeneous cultural units.”

^ Lenapehoking, the original Lenape territory. 

Selling their lands, being forced out of others, and willingly abandoning others – they became refugees within their own land and would also retreat to the land of others. After the death of William Penn in 1718, he was succeeded by his sons Thomas Penn and John Penn –whom were involved in the infamous Walking Purchase of 1737 in which they brought forward a suspicious and possibly fraudulent copy of a land deed from 1686 that led to a large theft of land from the Lenape. The Penn brothers had arranged to have three trained runners sprint through a cleared route, covering about sixty-five miles in eighteen hours and winning them 1,200 square acres of land from the Delaware.

^ Delaware by David Wright.

They [Thomas Penn and John Penn] were used to an expensive life-style, but had no money. In their desperation, they contemplated ways to sell Lenape land to colonial settlers. The resulting scheme culminated in the so-called Walking Purchase. In the mid-1730s, colonial administrators produced a draft of a land deed dating to the 1680s. William Penn had approached several leaders of Lenape polities in the lower Delaware to discuss land sales further north. Since the land in question did not belong to their polities, the talks came to nothing.

But colonial administrators had prepared the draft that resurfaced in the 1730s. The Penns and their supporters tried to present this draft as an actual deed. Unsurprisingly, Lenape leaders in the lower Delaware refused to accept it. What followed was a convoluted sequence of deception, fraud, and extortion orchestrated by the Pennsylvania government that is commonly known as the Walking Purchase. In the end, all Lenapes who still lived on the Delaware were driven off the remnants of their homeland under threats of violence.” – Steven Harper.

^ Walking Purchase.

The refugee Lenape villages that had arose from this displacement are believed to have been an important component that led to the French and Indian War and the surge of revolutionary ideas among the Lenape Delaware Natives. One of these revolutionaries was a man from the Delaware named Wangomen, who believed that the great creator spirit, Gichi-Manidoo, had chosen him as a messenger. Wangomen, also known as the Assinisink Prophet, was visited by a great buck during a hunting trip that conveyed the message that by abandoning the old ways, the Natives had placed themselves in this difficult situation.

The great creator spirit, Gichi-Manidoo, let him peer into the heavens where he saw that there were three heavens –one for Natives, one for ‘Whites’ and one for ‘Negroes’. The ‘Whites’ were ill-treated in their heaven, as punishment for their abuses against the Natives, for taking the promised land away from them and for their enslavement of the ‘Negroes’. 

Another Delaware man named Papoonan, had a vision while mourning his father’s death –the great creator spirit, Gichi-Manidoo, was offended by the way that the Natives had abandoned the old ways. Papoonan was a supporter of Natives purifying themselves in the old ways of their forefathers and for them to denounce the use of alcohol. Unlike the other prophets he preached peace, coexistence, the sharing of resources and also accepted some of the teachings of the Moravian Christian missionaries 

^ Neolin, the Delaware Prophet.

There was yet another man from the Delaware tribe named Neolin, meaning “the enlightened”, in this story he plays the greatest significance. Neolin traversed the spirit world for days before reaching three forks in the road, from both the wide and the narrow roads a great fire arose from the ground which forced him to turn back. On the third path he encountered a marvelous white mountain in which he saw a woman of radiant beauty that instructed him to strip himself of all that he has and to purify himself in a nearby river. After purifying himself he met with the great creator spirit, Gichi-Manidoo, who gave him a guideline for the Natives to follow. The Natives must refrain from drinking, be married to one woman, not covet their neighbors’ wife and not to fight with their fellow brethren.

That the land in which they inhabited was given to them by him, reminding them that they lived before the French and English had arrived and didn’t need their assistance. They hunted with bow and arrow without need of firearms. That now they had become dependent on the whites, for his children (the Natives) to send the whites back to the homes that he has given them, across the ocean. To “drive off your lands those dogs clothed in red who will do nothing but harm”. 

He sought to purify his followers, urging them to rid themselves of all European goods and return to the lifestyle of their ancestors. Though he had many followers, the idea of tossing aside their arms was too much for some Natives to comply with. Nevertheless, Neolin became yet another force swaying the Natives against the ‘Whites’. 

By so doing, and by strictly observing his other precepts, the tribes would soon be restored to their ancient greatness and power, and be enabled to drive out the white men who infested their territory. The prophet had many followers. Indians came from far and near, and gathered together in large encampments to listen to his exhortations.” – Chapter VII, The Conspiracy of Pontiac and the Indian War after the Conquest.

If there are any errors please privately inbox me so I can update it. As always, if you’d like to read or learn about any specific historical subjects just let me know what they are and I will take note of them.


  • THE COUNCIL OF THREE FIRES AND THE PONTIAC-GUYASUTA UPRISING – This post covers some of the history, culture and religion of the Native American inhabitants of the Great Lakes region of North America, focusing on the Pontiac-Guyasuta Uprising and the Council of Three Fires (the Ottawa, Ojibwe and the Potawatomi); the peace-pipe, Rogers’ Rangers, the sport that inspired lacrosse, and some Native battle tactics
  • THE IROQUOIS CONFEDERACY: THE “SAVAGE” EMPIRE – The origins of the Iroquois Confederacy, the early wars they were involved in, the effects that disease epidemics incurred upon them, the Iroquoian cultural use of torturescalping, and cannibalism, the tomahawk and its symbolism (bury the hatchet), as well as the taking of captives during mourning wars and adopting them in order to replace lost tribal members.
  • THE IROQUOIS CONFEDERACY: THE RED ROMANS AND THE RED COATS – This post covers the religious beliefs of the Iroquois Confederacy, their origin story, their belief in duality (like yin and yang), their secretive and mysterious masked societies, and their involvement in the conflicts between their two great colonial neighbors (New France and the New England) like the famed French and Indian War. I’ll also speak of their involvement in the American Revolutionary War as well as the famed Joseph Brant, a Freemason Mohawk leader who swayed most of the Iroquois Confederates into siding with the British. It is believed that without the aid of the Iroquois Confederacy, North America would now be speaking French instead of English and that France would’ve held a massive portion of the eastern half of North America, leaving a massive battlefield for the French and Spanish to battle over.

Writes 2200 word outline based on two dozen individual characters’ actions for a potential animation I might make, some day, maybe, because it’s dead at work.

“Holy shit, there’s no way I can fit all this to the beat, can I?”

Actually listens to the music it’s set to, Oppa Toby Style.

“Actually yes. Yes I can.”

Olicity Fic: A Light in the Dark Ch. 6 (Bratva AU)

Hey guys! Sorry for the late update, but here’s the next chapter! I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary:

FIVE YEARS AGO: Flashback to Anatoly and Oliver - lots of insight on the promise he made. Oliver and Felicity can’t seem to stay away from each other :)

FIVE YEARS LATER: Oliver and Felicity keep arguing, keep going back and forth, and finally a truth is revealed about the day Oliver shot Donna Smoak.

AO3 Linkhttp://archiveofourown.org/works/10761483/chapters/24224880

EXCERPT (I gave you guys a sneak of both the past and the present):


“I’ve think we’ve walked like eighteen miles,” said Felicity, a little out of breath.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve only walked two,” said Oliver smirking, “i can carry you if you’d like.”

“Oh - no, I’m okay, but thanks. The house isn’t too far away,” she said laughing slightly.

Oliver simply looked at her once before stopping them in their tracks and turning her to him. He didn’t know what he was doing, but the silence, the tension - it was all getting to him. He really wanted to kiss her.

“What are you doing?”

“Not sure exactly,” said Oliver as he leaned down a little, his face close enough that Felicity could reach

“Last time you were this close to me we were kissing,” she replied as she tilted her head up, narrowing the distance.

“I know.”

“It was supposed to be the last kiss we had.”

“It was.”

Oliver leaned in, about to kiss her, when his phone buzzed. “Excuse me,” he said as he reached for his phone in the back pocket.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Oliver, we have to send this in. Come back to your room, I’m there waiting” said Alexei before hanging up.

Oliver sighed reluctantly, before pulling away from Felicity. He really wanted to kiss her again. But he had to go.

“Maybe it was a good thing he called,” said Felicity, a smile on her face.

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Yeah… so do I,” she joked, before tugging on his arm, getting him to walk towards the house.


“What the hell were you doing out here?” said Oliver angrily as he moved towards her in a few strides and gripped her arms.

“Going out for a stroll,” she said smirking.

“This isn’t a joke, Felicity. Your life - it’s not a joke. So answer me, what the hell were you doing out here?” gritted out Oliver.

“Trying to eavesdrop on your conversation. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear anything because your voice is too low and you grunt too much.”

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other still clutching her firmly, before looking down at her and softening his eyes. “I am sorry Felicity. I really am. I know this is hard for you and - “

“Save it Oliver. I’ve heard this speech before. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to work on cracking the password on Cooper’s laptop,” she said as she tried to pull away from his grasp, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Let me go Oliver,” she said threateningly.


“Why not?” she challenged.

“Because I need you to stop doubting me, to trust that I have your best interests at heart. To trust that I am doing everything it takes to keep you safe, and by you ‘defying’ me in not eating to irritate me or in running outside to eavesdrop, you’re only hurting yourself. So please… just cooperate with me. It will all be over once we free you from Victor, and then you will never have to see me again,” begged Oliver.

“How am I supposed to trust you when you don’t tell me anything? I don’t have blind faith in you anymore - for a good reason. You think that you’re protecting me by lying to me, but all it does is hurt me. Can’t you see that?” she said, her voice frail, trying to hold back tears.

“I would rather hurt you than have you die Felicity. I hate that I hurt you, believe me, I hate that I can’t tell you. But I can’t.”

“No! That isn’t fair! Just tell me!” she begged, hoping that this time it would be different. But of course it wasn’t.

Oliver stood there for a minute, his eyes sad, as he looked at her. There was nothing he could say to her, nothing that wouldn’t just make it worse, and he was only hurting her by having this same conversation once more. She was so tired, so exhausted, and he hated seeing her like this, so he decided to do the only thing that could help her in the moment.

Oliver said nothing as he tugged her towards the cottage, his hand moving to the small of her back, his eyes downcast and unable to look at hers. Felicity didn’t have the energy to fight him, and given her recent lack of eating, there was no way she would even be able to get one good kick in. She was just too exhausted.

Oliver pulled her upstairs, telling her to “sleep” before leaving the room and allowing her to change. She did believe him, believe that whatever he was doing it was for safety, but that didn’t erase all of it. Nothing could erase it.

Felicity grabbed his spare shirt that she had been using as her pajamas and changed into it. Every time she wore it, something swirled inside of her. The shirt, for some reason, made her feel safe, made her feel like she was home. She didn’t like to put much thought into it, so she slipped it on before making her way to the bed and closing her eyes.


AHHH I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! Go check it out! I hope you all enjoy!

xox gina <3

sarcasticcebby  asked:

Okay so imagine a fic where one of them actually manage to get sick (in not saying space flu but space flu) and the other just has to deal with the other suffering™ loudly about it but they're so cute so it's a grin and bear it moment

Dude, they would be the cutest. Trini would totally be the type to run eighteen miles on foot to the only supermarket that carries Kim’s favorite ice cream, and Kimberly would braid and play with Trini’s hair for hours and snuggle her and let her lay on her chest and rub her back when she couldn’t breathe without wheezing. Gahhhhh, why do you give me ideas??


Royal Profile- Prince Henry Duke of Gloucester Part I 

Henry William Frederick Albert born 31st March 1900 was the third son and fourth child of His Royal Highness The Duke of York future King George V and Her Royal Highness The Duchess of York future Queen Mary. At the time of his birth he was fifth in line to the throne after his grandfather, his father and elder brothers, Edward and Albert as male primogeniture was still recognized at the time of his birth he preceded  his older sister Mary in the line of succession. When Henry who was referred affectionately as Harry was nearly a year old great-grandmother Queen Victoria died and his grandfather Albert Edward Prince of Wales now reigned as King Edward VII, Henry was then fourth in line to the throne after his father and two elder brothers. As a child Henry was very sickly and was often prone to getting colds, he also had a high pitched nasal lisp and  rhotacism which prevented him from pronouncing the letter R, his elder brother Albert also had a slight case of rhotacism however he was able to pronounce the letter R which was slightly similar to the french R, Henry however could not. He was also afflicted with knock-knees.

 It was thought that he would follow his older brother’s to naval college and forge a career in the navy however due of a severe infection which left one of his lungs very weak, it was believed that the lifestyle of a naval cadet would be too much for the young Prince. After another illness he was sent down to recuperate in the sea-side town called Broadstairs  just eighteen miles from Canterbury City. It was at this time he was enrolled at St Peters Court, a preparatory school for boys. He was initially enrolled as a day student, attending the school during the day for lessons but going home at the end of the day. However on receiving reports about how much his son was enjoying his time at St Peters Court, The Prince of Wales agreed to allow his son to become a boarder thus making Henry the first royal to attend Preparatory School, while Henry was not an academic he excelled at maths which he was top of his class for. 

In May 1910 King Edward VII died and his father The Prince of Wales now King George V was on the throne and Henry was now third in line to the throne after his elder brothers  Prince Edward The Duke of Cornwall and Prince Albert. Not much changed for the ten year old Prince and he continued his education at St Peters Court it was during this time he was joined by his younger brother George. During the following year Henry now eleven was present at his father’s coronation, he along with his brother George saw this as a excellent opportunity to mess around, much to the dismay of his older siblings, Edward, Albert and Mary.

In his teenage years Henry would go onto to attend Eton College were he would board with the Prince Leopold Duke of Brabant who was the heir to the Belgium throne. He excelled at Eton College not academically but mentally and socially and was very popular among his fellow classmates. It was at this time he went through a massive growth spurt and near to the end of his time at Eton he towered over his siblings. He attended Sandhurst College and would spend several years as a Naval Officer. During the 1920′s he would undertake many royal duties and in 1928 he was created Duke of Gloucester by his father King George V. In November  1935 he married Lady  Alice Montagu Douglas Scott several weeks later his father died and his eldest brother Edward Prince of Wales now reigned as King Edward VIII however his reign wouldn’t last long as he abdicated in December of that same year in favour of his brother Prince Albert The Duke of York in order to marry the twice divorced America Wallis Simpson. Henry who was third in line to the throne after his nieces was named Regent under the 1937 regency act which in the case that his brother Albert who reigned as King George VI died before his daughter Elizabeth reached maturity Henry would reign on her behalf. This meant that Henry could not leave the country until Elizabeth was of age. He was steadfast in supporting his brother and under took many royal duties .

anonymous asked:

Hey, I was wondering if you could do destiel 11 (things you said when you were drunk) btw, you are sooooo amazing, i'm in love with your blog!!

Aww! Thank you anon! I’m in love with your compliment (and therefore I love you too) ;) Sorry it took a while to get this to you, but I hope you enjoy it!

Cas took a long pull from his beer bottle as he scanned the room. He’d been at the bar for longer than he’d have liked, had more alcohol in him than was prudent and he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what the hell he was supposed to say to Dean. The way they’d left things last September had nearly broken both of them, and here he was back in Lawrence for the summer trying to think of something better than “Hello Dean” to open with.

Cas let out a loud sigh and checked his phone again, 9:03pm flashed up at him. He’d been at the booth for over an hour and a half and he damn well should have texted Dean to meet him by now but his heart jumped into his throat just thinking about it.

How were they supposed to pretend that nothing had changed? When Cas had been away at school it’d been easy to throw himself into studying and new friends. It’d been easy to forget all about the way Dean had looked at him the night before he’d left for California. The way Dean’s eyes had gone all soft and warm as he’d leaned in and pressed their lips together in kiss that had left them both breathless and wanting.

Dean’s hands had fisted in his hair and tugged him closer. He’d run his hands over Dean’s shoulders and back because he was finally, finally, allowed to touch and it was exactly as hot and messy and perfect as he’d imagined it would be if they kissed.

They’d spent the whole night kissing and touching, and saying everything with their bodies that they couldn’t with their words, and it had been tinged with an air of desperation because come morning Cas would be on a plane headed eighteen hundred miles away but it had still been so good.

And fuck, just the memory of it was enough to give Cas goosebumps. So how was he supposed to sit here and pretend like nothing had happened between them?

They hadn’t talked about it after Cas left that morning, with one last lingering kiss. He’d wanted to, God, had he ever wanted to, but he couldn’t make himself say the words, not when either way he was leaving and Dean was staying. And what would he have said? Wait for me? That sounded childish and idealistic, and it wouldn’t have been fair to Dean.

Dean, who’d always had a voracious sexual appetite, even if his conquests never made it past the week mark. Dean, who thrived on one night stands and the rush of the chase. Dean, who deserved to be happy and not left missing him for months on end.

He motioned to the waitress for another beer, and as soon as it was in front of him, he gulped it down. He’d blown past buzzed three or four drinks ago and his body was thrumming pleasantly, his legs and arms felt heavy but in a nice sort of way, and his thoughts were starting to become much less anxious.


Cas’s head snapped up at the voice he knew nearly as well as his own, and his eyes locked onto Dean’s wide green ones. And Jesus, had Dean always had that many freckles on his face? Because they were fucking adorable. And oh yeah, he should say something instead of just staring like an idiot.

“Hello, Dean.” He managed, and great, so much for a better opener.

“Thought you were gonna text when you got here?” Dean asked, uncertainty painting his face as he slid into the booth opposite Cas.

“Was gonna.” Cas agreed, slurring his words a bit.

“So why didn’t ya?” Dean questioned, and Cas didn’t miss the hurt that flashed across his face.

And suddenly Cas was really, really, goddamn sorry, because Dean was supposed to the confident, cock-sure one of them, and he was looking anything but right then and Cas had done that. Shit.

“Was nervous. ‘M sorry. I shoulda, I just didn’t know how to.” Cas confessed, trying to tell Dean with his eyes what his words weren’t getting across.

“Look, Cas. We don’t, uh, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. If you’re not, uh, interested in me that way anymore, that’s fine. I mean it’s not. But I’d get over it. Probably. I know neither of us brought it up this year, but I had a lot of time to think about what I want. And I want you. But we’ve been best friends for most of our lives though, man, and I really don’t wanna fuck that up. So if you don’t want the same thing, then I’ll deal.” Dean admitted.

“Dean, of course I want you. Tha’s not the problem. You’re fuckin’ perfect.” Cas slurred, heart sinking right down to his toes. “Problem’s that ‘m only here for two months ‘n then I gotta go back ‘n I can’t ask you to just keep waiting for me all the damn time. You shouldn’t hafta wait for me to come home. ‘S not fair.”

“Cas, shut up.” Dean ordered, and Cas shut his mouth, stunned. “You don’t get to decide what’s fair to me, for one. And for two, I’d wait every goddamn day of my life for you. I love you for fuck sake. I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy, or I won’t miss you like hell, but I’ve had almost a whole damn year of not having you at all, and I can damn well guarantee you that was worse. So we have all summer, and then we’ll alternate who visits who on holidays and we’ll fucking make it work because we want it to work.”

“I love you too.” Cas told him with a grin as warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the beer and Dean almost laughed with relief, because really, that’s the thing Cas had picked out of his speech?

“Of course you do, you dork. I’m awesome.” Dean replied, confident façade back in place. “So let’s get out of here and you can sleep off the who knows how the hell many drinks you had.”

“’M gonna be so hungover.” Cas complained as he let Dean pull him to his feet and the world tilted precariously on its axis. “Feel like I drank a liquor store.”

Dean laughed and wrapped an arm around Cas’s waist to steady him, the warm weight of it settling into Cas like it belonged there, like it’d been missing all this time and he hadn’t even known it. And just like that, they were fitting together in all the ways that mattered, and Cas knew everything was going to work out. Because he was going to do everything he could to make it work out.

It’s time for #TrilobiteTuesday! A number of locations that border Lake Erie in western New York State have long been noted for their exceptional Middle Devonian fauna. Reports regarding the area’s 385 million year-old crinoids, brachiopods, and bivalves date back nearly two centuries. Despite the attention those abundant fossils have long drawn from local residents, it is the unique trove of trilobites that can be found in either the area’s rich Windom Shale or Moscow formation limestone that has continually attracted a lion’s share of the acclaim. Both Eighteen Mile Creek, named for its distance from the Niagara River, and the nearby Penn-Dixie quarry are of particular paleontological interest due to their beautifully preserved examples of Eldredgeops (Phacops) rana rana. The specimen pictured here is Greenops barberi.

George Harrison and John Lennon during the filming of Help!, Balmoral Island, Bahamas, 27 February 1965 - photographed by Henry Grossman

In 1965, presumably sometime between March and July, “The Dental Experience” occurred:

“The first time we took LSD was an accident. […] One night John, Cynthia, Pattie and I were having dinner at the dentist’s house. Later that night we were going down to a London nightclub called the Pickwick Club. It was a little restaurant with a small stage where some friends of ours were playing: Klaus Voormann, Gibson Kemp (who became Rory Storm’s drummer after we stole Ringo) and a guy called Paddy. They had a little trio.
After dinner I said to John, ‘Let’s go - they’re going to be on soon,’ and John said, ‘OK,’ but the dentist was saying, ‘Don’t go, you should stay here.’ And then he said, ‘Well, at least finish your coffee first.’
So we finished our coffee and after a while I said again, ‘Come on, it’s getting late - we’d better go.’ The dentist said something to John and John turned to me and said, ‘We’ve had LSD.’
I just thought, ‘Well, what’s that? So what? Let’s go!’
This fella was still asking us to stay and it all became a bit seedy - it felt as if he was trying to get something happening in his house; that there was some reason he didn’t want us to go. In fact, he had obtained some lysergic acid diethylamide 25. It was, at the time, an unrestricted medication - I seem to recall that I’d heard vaguely about it, but I didn’t really know what it was, and we didn’t know we were taking it. The bloke had put it in our coffees, mine, John’s, Cynthia’s and Pattie’s. He didn’t take it. He had never had it himself. I’m sure he thought it was an aphrodisiac. I remember his girlfriend had enormous breasts and I think he thought that there was going to be a big gang-bang and that he was gong to get to shag everybody. I really think that was his motive.
So the dentist said, ‘OK, leave your car here. I’ll drive you and then you can come back later.’ I said ‘No, no. We’ll drive.’ And we all got in my car and he came as well, in his car. We got to the nightclub, parked and went in.

We’d just sat down and ordered our drinks when suddenly I felt the most incredible feeling come over me. It was something like a very concentrated version of the best feeling I’d ever had in my whole life. It was fantastic. I felt in love, not with anything or anybody in particular, but with everything. Everything was perfect, in a perfect light, and I had an overwhelming desire to go round the club telling everybody how much I loved them - people I’d never seen before.

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I know this goes without saying, but Stonehenge really was the most incredible accomplishment. It took five hundred men just to pull each sarsen, plus a hundred more to dash around positioning the rollers. Just think about it for a minute. Can you imagine trying to talk six hundred people into helping you drag a fifty-ton stone eighteen miles across the countryside and muscle it into an upright position, and then saying, ‘Right, lads! Another twenty like that, plus some lintels and maybe a couple of dozen nice bluestones from Wales, and we can party!’ Whoever was the person behind Stonehenge was one dickens of a motivator, I’ll tell you that.
—  Bill Bryson, Notes from a Small Island

aliceslut  asked:

Truck, Harbour, wanted.... Go! PS thanks

Twenty miles to go.

The truck was in better shape than Maria had expected. When she’d stolen it from behind the farmhouse she’d been hiding out in, she planned on taking it a little ways, then switching vehicles. That was before everything went tits-up, though, and the whole operation fell through. 

They’d nabbed Heather right outside the bank. Silent alarm, bad luck, some kind of tip-off - Maria didn’t know. It hurt like hell, leaving her behind. They’d pulled jobs together for three years, and gotten into and out of more than their share of scrapes in that time. But both of them knew, if it came down to running or getting caught, well, they would both run.

Heather never would’ve flipped, of course. She was a pro from way back. She had iron in her spine. So when the cops were waiting outside the safe house, Maria knew things were really bad.

She thought of all the rumors - the new boogeyman in the criminal community. The ‘snitchmaker’, they called it. A drug they gave you, or a gadget they strapped to your skull. In some versions, the snitchmaker was a guy - a specialist who got in your head, made you spill your guts somehow. The gist was always the same, though - somebody got collared, and within the hour they were eagerly telling the cops everything, selling out their own nearest and dearest like it was their heart’s truest desire.

Maria didn’t buy that, of course. Sometimes your partner turned on you, that was life. Just because you never expected somebody to turn rat doesn’t mean you turn to the supernatural to explain them suddenly eating cheese. 

But despite all that, she felt a very deep chill when she saw all those cruisers waiting for her.

She was lucky, managed to skulk away, unnoticed. Holed up in an abandoned farmhouse for a couple of nights while she planned her next move. Found the truck, managed to get word to an old friend who ran shipments out of the harbor. That wasn’t too far. Just under a day’s drive. Doable, with a little luck.

And, shockingly, it seemed like it was going to work. The truck ran well. The roads were clear. There didn’t seem to be any patrol cars searching for her - at least, not where she was. And she was nearly there - twenty miles to the harbor, twenty miles to a ship, twenty miles to being home free.

And then there was a glint on the road up ahead. Light, reflecting off of metal. A car pulled over to the side of the road.

Maria didn’t slow down. Probably it was nothing. No need to get excited.

There was another car, across from it. 

She pushed the accelerator a little bit. Just a bit, just in case.

She could see them better now. Cruisers. Waiting. Fuck.

They weren’t blocking the road, though. They were just… there. Some kind of speed trap, maybe? But… out here? This was the middle of nowhere. She had seen maybe ten cars in the last hour.

This had to be for her.

They weren’t moving, though. Didn’t seem to be trying to stop her. They just sat there as she approached. She was going to pass right through them. Kick up a cloud of dust, roar past, and… what? They’d chase her? Call in her location? Made some sense, maybe, but… why not just try and stop her now?

Something was wrong. Maria could feel it, feel it in her gut. Everything instinct she had told her to stop, turn back. But it was too late now, she was on top of them, she was speeding past, she was-

-something was there, between the cars. It was like having a laser pointed right into both eyes. Right into her brain. Some sort of… beam? Wall? Maria didn’t know. Couldn’t think. She was blind. Her brain was on fire. Everything was on fire, everything hurt, hurt in a bone-deep way. Hurt down through her veins and muscles and blood. Hurt in a way that was simply wrong, everything that was happening was wrong, and she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t do anything but soak up the lights blinding her and-

-she was through the cars. They didn’t move. 

What the fuck was that

The pain was gone, but her brain… her thoughts were still muddy. Inadvertently, she slowed the car. Couldn’t focus on the road correctly. It would suck to get this far and then crash, she thought.

She slowed down a bit more.

After a moment, she pulled over. She wasn’t sure why. Momentum had carried her about two more miles. But then, it made sense to just sit, she thought. Just wait a minute. 

She didn’t know why. She knew the cops would be coming for her. She pictured them coming, the cars coming down the empty highway. She pictured them cuffing her, putting her into the back of their squad cars.

She imagined answering their questions. She imagined complying.

Maria noticed she was smiling.

That’s when she looked at herself in the mirror. That’s when she saw the changes. 

Her close-cropped hair was long, flowing, blonde. Her body, always athletic and toned, was now sleek and curvaceous as well - a body built for fucking. Even her clothes had changed - her nondescript white tee and jeans were now something out of a teenage boy’s fantasy. 

Strangest of all, she didn’t panic. Couldn’t panic. This, Maria knew somehow, was how she was supposed to look.

The cops were coming now. She could see their cars, off in the distance. She got out of the truck. Eighteen miles from the harbor, she thought. She almost made it.

She was relieved she didn’t.

She couldn’t wait to comply. She’d do anything they wanted.


I want someone to love me
I want them to love me without conditions
I want them to love me when I just woke up from a nap
And my hair is a mess
Or when I’m throwing up because I took that extra shot of tequila
When I know I shouldn’t have
I want them to love me when I’m crying because my parents announced their divorce
And when I’m screaming at them telling them that I don’t believe in love
I want someone to love me when I fail out of school and can’t offer them the future I promised
I want them to love me when I hardly love myself
I want them to love me when I’m backwards on the sofa crying because the favorite character in my book died
I want them to love me when I’m too drunk to even remember my own name
And I want them to love me when I’m clutching to my rosary praying for a cure for cancer
Because people shouldn’t die that way
I want them to love me when I run eighteen miles and eat a banana all day
Because I want to lose some weight
I want them to love me when I tell them I hate them
Because I push people away
When I care about them so much that it scares me
I want you to love me
When I don’t deserve it
—  Please stay

fic dump part five

title: hangover

summary: it’s a little bit of a mistake on killua’s part when he wakes up shirtless with a raging hangover in a stranger’s house, but it turns out it’s an even bigger mistake when he realizes three things. one, the stranger is actually his friend kurapika’s neighbor; two, the stranger happens to be very handsome; and three… the stranger is also sort of half-naked. 

notes: from november 24, 2014; unrevised and unfinished, read at own risk

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Dead Natural {13}

Reader x ?

Warnings: Swearing, Fighting, Violence, Double Cross, Slight Mention Of Sexual Abuse (Very Brief, No Details), Character Death

Words: 4,070

Previous Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Thanks for waiting so long for the next part guys. This one’s nice and long for you.

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This Trilobite Tuesday has a New York state of mind!

A number of locations that border Lake Erie in western New York State have long been noted for their exceptional Middle Devonian fauna, and reports of the area’s 385 million year-old crinoids, brachiopods, and bivalves date back nearly two centuries. 

The area’s unique trove of trilobites–found in either the rich Windom Shale or Moscow formation limestone–has continually attracted a lion’s share of the acclaim. Both Eighteen Mile Creek (named for its distance from the Niagara River) and the nearby Penn-Dixie quarry are of particular paleontological interest due to their beautifully preserved examples of Eldredgeops (Phacops) rana rana, Bellacartwrightia calliteles, and Greenops barberi (pictured).

Meet more trilobites on the Museum website.