everything i've done

8

Will you take this matter seriously?

I am taking it seriously! What makes you think I’m not taking it seriously?

“#OhWhatABeautifulMorning.”

6
5

Ice cream~


Forgot to mention it: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH, I NEVER THOUGHT MY DRAWINGS WOULD BE SO POPULAR SOMEDAY!!!

I LOVE YOUUUU AND HAVE A NICE WHITE DAY!! (or what’s left of it XDD)

10

philinda + otp tags

10

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SHIN HOSEOK
#WONRABBITDAY

Imagine Kenma having multiple handheld gaming devices so if anyone takes one away from him he just pulls another one out of his bag and continues like normal

How them 2000s live actions kids shows be
  • Normal Girl: *internally* I'm just a normal high school girl. I suck at math. I hate my parents. When someone asks me about my opinion on complex socioeconomic issues, I just go "What the heck!?" and start "texting" or something like that. My life would be just like yours, except for one thing: I have an amazing power... I can talk to cetaceans!
  • *at the docks, a bell tolls as our normal protagonist hears the voices of cetaceans bubbling in her mind*
  • Normal Girl: *staring deeply into the ocean*
  • Best Friend: Ahoy! What're you doing?
  • Normal Girl: Just staring into the oceanic abyss, thinking about how much I hate my parents. *internally* I have to keep my ability to speak to cetaceans secret or else... uh...
  • Best Friend: Haha, I feel that, friend. What a colorful life we teens live, our seaside environment awakening a rumbling darkness within ourselves of which we mull on our own with nothing but the unbounding depths of the ocean as our one escape. An escape which serves to only maim our fragile egos with newfound adolescent anxieties.
  • Normal Girl: What are you even talking about?
  • Best Friend: I don't know. I haven't slept in a week. Let's go to the mall.
  • *at the mall*
  • Normal Girl: *internally* My town might as well be called Lamesville. Nothing ever happens here, but the mall can be pretty fun. It's only place in the whole town with anything in it that isn't fish or excessive amounts of woodlice.
  • Best Friend: ...So I'd just dance and I'd dance until my feet broke. When that happened, I'd just get up and dance on my broken feet. And I did this until they were raw and blood was everywhere. I kept waking up in the morning extremely exhausted after this dream. I decided to record myself one night and it turns out I was dancing in my sleep. I haven't slept since I saw that. *leans in close to the normal girl* I'm afraid of what I'll do in my sleep.
  • Normal Girl: Wow, sounds weird... I guess. *sips coffee*
  • Best Friend: OMIGAWD! It's Chad Alphakid. He's coming this way!
  • *the normal girl and her best friend squee*
  • Normal Girl: *externally* That's Chad Alphakid. Who is he? He's only the hottest most coolest boy in this entire lame city. I've been crushing on him since I was like twelve.
  • Chad: Uh, okay.
  • Normal Girl: Did I just say that out loud!?
  • Chad: *sits at the table* Listen, I don't care what you or your friend think of me. I need help!
  • Best Friend: Have you murdered somebody?
  • Normal Girl: Do you need a girlfriend?
  • Chad: No, it's the ocean. The sound of her waves crashing against the shore is like a faultless siren song. There isn't a single night where I don't have visions of floating within her cold embrace. The allure of her boundless depths beckon to me like a lover. I'm afraid that if I don't get help soon, I'll find myself taken away by her to a fate unknown.
  • Normal Girl: *internally* Great, this is a chance to finally use my power to speak to cetaceans to my benefit! *externally* But why do you need us to help you?
  • Chad: You guys are the biggest fucking degenerate weirdos in this washed up town. If anyone knows how to deal with this, it's you two.
  • Best Friend: Haha, truuuuuu!
  • Normal Girl: I'm not a weirdo! I'm a completely normal girl.
  • Chad: Dude, you fucking talk to fish.
  • Best Friend: You do talk to fish.
  • Normal Girl: I don't talk to fish! *internally* I talk to cetaceans, they're mammals, not fish. Also, that's supposed to be a secret, dammit!
  • *at the shore*
  • Chad: Ah, Mother Ocean! Take me!! Take me!!! *attempts to run into the ocean, but gets held back by the normal girl and her best friend*
  • Best Friend: Simmer down, aqualad!
  • Chad: Why did you fools take me here, if not to release into the embrace of sweet Mother Ocean!?
  • Normal Girl: We talked it over and we decided that the best way to get you over your obsession is make you hate the ocean.
  • Chad: Does it involve you talking to fish?
  • Normal Girl: Yes, I mean no. I mean, fuck! Cetaceans aren't fish.
  • *the normal girl sits at the edge of shore, her eyes rolls up in her head as she proceeds to make fucked up porpoise sounds*
  • Normal Girl: *falls over limp*
  • Best Fried: She died.
  • Chad: Does this mean that I'm free to wade into Mother Ocean and meet my fate among her ever chaotic waes?
  • Best Friend: *lets chad go* Yeah, dude. I'm too far gone to care about things anymore.
  • Chad: *strips off all of his clothes* Good. I now understand that there was no avoiding this. This was always a forgone conclusion. My fate is with the waves. Sayonara, weird best friend guy.
  • Chad: *runs into the ocean*
  • Best Friend: *kicks the normal girl's body* Guess she really is dead.
  • Best Friend: *walks home as the night encroaches* My closest friend is dead, and Chad is probably dead too. I wonder where my fate lies?
  • Best Friend: *yawns* Maybe I should go to sleep and just dance myself to death finally. No, I don't think I could go to sleep even if I wanted to anymore. I'm probably going to die from exhaustion in the next few days, not having felt rest or comfort again. Or maybe I'll just stay awake forever. I feel like I was supposed to have an epiphany here, or some type of awakening. But, there's nothing. I feel like everything I've ever done has been pointless. God, I'm just really tired.
  • *back at the shore*
  • Porpoise: *beaches itself*
  • *a gray fleshy version of the normal girl crawls halfway out of the porpoises mouth*
  • Normal Girl: There goes my corpse! *drags her weird porpoise body towards the corpse* Why did I die with such a dumb expression on my face? Lame! I hope Chad didn't see.
  • Normal Girl: *looks around with beady eyes* No one's here. I can finally do this.
  • Normal Girl: *kisses her dead body on the lips* Blargh!
  • Normal Girl: *spits out blood* I bit my tongue when I died. Gross. I guess I can cross making out with my dead body and becoming a mermaid off of my bucket list, though.
  • Normal Girl: *sighs*
8

giles/jenny + touching

2

“You might want money. Maybe you want women. Or, you might want to protect the world. These are all common things people want. Things that their hearts desire. Greed may not be good, but it’s not so bad, either. You humans think greed is just for money and power! But everyone wants something they don’t have.”

anonymous asked:

Restrained

post Founder’s Mutation


Her hands are tied behind her back, the tethers invisible but tight, her wrists aching against their everlasting pull. Though she rarely sleeps on her stomach - he noticed that too, furrowed his brow as she shifted positions in bed, wondered what other habits she’d picked up of late - she lies chest-down now, her cheek hot against the starched pillow, her lungs heavy upon the mattress. He’s still awake, so of course, he knows she’s still awake.

Once upon a time - he used to always begin his stories like that, once upon a time, two agents named Mulder and Scully scurried out to the far reaches of the planet and learned that, in the end, it doesn’t matter what we see but with whom we see it - they shared a bed like this. Not in the romantic way, no, but in the incidental and apologetic way that two non-lovers subdued daily by mutual but silent attraction would. Once upon a time, they checked into a Motel 6 and found, well, damn it, there’s one room left, only a queen-size open. Though she knew better than to believe in the law of averages, she still mused the statistical improbability, the way that the theorems of the world should at least have allowed for one or two cancellations that night; last week, she read a theory on how the world is all Matrix - she still knows where that DVD is in their home, wedged up between Contact and Interstellar on the shelf - and just a computer simulation, and if that’s true, then the mathematical modeling that binds everyone together should have given them another option. They could have driven to another hotel even though it was past midnight, or they could have crashed on the local sheriff’s couch, or they could have slept in the car while parked alongside two RVs and a truck in a starkly-lit Walmart lot. Instead, Mulder looked to her, then agreed to one room, and the way her heart had stopped at the prospect made her wonder if morals could ever be absolute; if pain and terror could be so exciting, then why are the body’s warning signs? Why are the things that terrify us so indulgent? 

But she digressed and came into bed with him and silenced her scientific mind while he stayed above the sheets. He slept in sweats and a tee shirt while she wore all-too-proper pajamas, a night suit as he’d once called them. Then, she slid onto her side and stared toward the motel room’s window, one blocked off by a shabby curtain that let flickers of parking lot light in, and she waited for something she couldn’t identify.

“You’re still awake,” he said after minutes, hours, days, she couldn’t tell.

“You are too,” she gave softly, hesitantly.

“Of course I am,” he said. “I don’t sleep.”

Uncomfortably, she lay there, her body tense in a workday kind of way: shoulders up, eyes wide open and stinging with tiredness, stomach empty, legs aching. Back then, her restraints were looser around her wrists, and sometimes, they threatened to fall beyond her fingers, so regularly, she tightened them. Occam’s Razor, she used to explain to herself; it was far more likely that she was simply unsexed and bored with her personal life than that she was silently but genuinely in love with him, so she kept her professional rigidity, left her mask of scientific indifference on.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long pause.

Though she too was sorry, she knew their reasonings wouldn’t align, so she kept quiet. In the morning, they didn’t discuss how he curled up against her back at some point in the night, and they didn’t make a big deal about how she stared a second too long after walking in on him while he was in the shower. Most of all, they never talked about what they would do if such a thing happened again.

And it did happen again, though new context forced previous awkwardness away. Instead of wasting money on two required hotel rooms, they were forced into one when they would’ve used only one anyway; with his hands strong around her hips, his mouth warm and wet against her skin, she found those nights similar to any other night of that time, the room situation disregarded. For a while, she only stayed in hotels during medical conferences in far-off places, so she reserved one room with one bed, the practice easy and simple and everyday. Nowadays, they’re back to two rooms, one bed each, and as they did once upon a time, they both retreat to their own rooms at night, only now she wears his old shirts to bed while she doubts he wears anything at all.

Tonight, she asked for two rooms, and, what do you know, they’re booked. After all, this motel’s tiny, and up here in the Adirondacks during on-season, kitschy cabin-style places that are cheap and have enough parking for a boat rack sell out quickly. Though there are eight units total, seven were full upon their arrival, only one left to boot. The next closest establishment is at least twenty miles away, and here in lake-and-land country, the roads are dark and narrow, begging a driver to lose control. In terms of probability, it seems the world wants her to lose control in some way or another. This time, she accepted the one room while he stared on blankly. 

“You’re still awake,” he says, and she feels the restraints grow tighter.

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