gasoline can

my favorite headcanons are random, completely useless pieces information like “is addicted to craigslist” “secretly enjoys the smell of gasoline” or “can eat an entire chipotle burrito in one sitting despite diminutive size”

anonymous asked:

Hi! So, your headcannon on Alex and Andrew absolutely wrecked me, it was fantastic. I was wondering if you wanted to expand on it a little bit? Like how Andrew and Neil got together again and dealing with the Alex thing?

Huh, it would appear that I saw “expand” and then wrote something which doesn’t answer this ask at all. Oh well. Here’s the sequel/prequel/companion to this post.

Warnings for my D- humor and some ooc-ness because I hey I already drastically redid their backstories and dynamic so why wouldn’t they be slightly different people.

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                                                    “I’m so in love with you that it feels like someone                                                                                had emptied a can of gasoline                                                                        somewhere inside me and set fire to it!” 

Jason Todd/Red Hood X Reader- Criminal (Song Fic)

Here’s the song fic!! I really am not that great at them, but I hope you guys enjoy!! I’d like to thank the awesome @abigailredgrave for helping me out with this.  Also, this is in the Arkhamverse if it confuses some people.  I recently have had some Arkham Knight feels and I needed to get it out of my system.

Warning: Blood, fighting, guns, horrible nicknames, etc.

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She’s always been thin, and over the years she’d honed her body into a perfectly efficient machine, all lithe muscle with just enough extra. Now he holds her at night and could count every bone in her body.

He tries not to, though.

On the couch in his office she’s been asleep for hours, but Mulder doesn’t sleep much anymore. He traces circles on her hip with the fingertips of his left hand. The pain has dulled to a low, constant ache; he doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. Mulder’s not worried about what it will be like, after. He knows how to live with a phantom limb.

The lights again, out over the lake.

“Scully,” he says, and even though it’s the middle of the night she must have been awake, because she doesn’t start at the sound of her name, just turns to look at him.

She says, her voice low, “The lights.”

“If they come for us,” he says, but she kisses him hard.



More forcefully: “Don’t.”

“You should go,” he says, and in his mind’s eye he sees it, the headlights closing in, the wind and the sparks and the screaming. Scully and Will carried away like everyone else they used to know. Disappearing beyond his reach. “Before it’s too late. Take Will and go.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she says, but he hears the uncertainty in her voice and it only makes him more sure.

“I’ll hold them off as long as I can. Create a diversion, I’ll – you take the truck and whatever’s left of the gasoline.” He can feel his grip on her tightening as he adds, “Will knows how to shoot.”

“Oh my God,” she exhales.

“You know they want him. And they know where we are.”

“We don’t know anything. God, Mulder, what are you saying?”

“Promise me,” he says.

“Never,” she says, fierce. “Not without you.”

But she’ll run. He will make sure of it; he will not lose her to this. This world, just like the old one, needs to have Scully in it. He thinks of the bags he packed for her and Will, all those months ago. The handgun and rifle they keep loaded near the door, and Scully’s first-aid kit carrying unspeakable things.

He holds her closer; he counts the minutes. He watches the headlights swim through the window again, then fade into the darkness.

For now.

There comes a time when the world starts spinning like a broken top teetering on a cabinet and you can taste the smoke in the air and you can feel the fires you set racing up your spine and the night itself shatters into flickers of red and blue and angry voices all loud and bright and angry and you stand there in the fire and the ash and the smoke and you’re not afraid.

Death holds itself close to you, rearranging your life so that you walk hand-in-hand with it. You exist, in a way that isn’t quite alive but not yet dead, pushed up against the horizon of forever and never, lungs heavy with fire.

You’re holding a match and a can of gasoline when the bullet splits your heart, you’re holding his hands when you die-not-die, and this golden little smirk of a grim reaper sits down next to you and fixes you up. Kisses your palm where it burned.

You wake up in the black ashes of a building and you can taste the smoke, there is a melted gasoline can next to you and your hand is tight around a gold lighter.

A very bad love story prompt

“Hey can I ask you a real quick question?”

“What did you do?”

“Why do you think I did something?”


“…It’s a koala…”


“It’s a koala, not a kangaroo…”

“I’m about to slap you.”

“But you’re my girlfriend! You’re supposed to accept my differences!”

“I am not your girlfriend, I’m your neighbor and even if I was your girlfriend, I would still slap you because you are carrying a koala, my ex’s motorcycle, bootleg hallucinogenic alcohol from England and a can of gasoline.


“-sigh- This sounds like the start of a really bad high school love story.”


L taking Yotsuba!Light to wammys on bonfire night

-light watching in terror as a bunch of teenagers build a bonfire as big as the building

-someone tries to set him on fire several times

-literally all these kids are wearing fucking gas masks n shit and you can see this fucking fire for mILES

-someone smuggled in fucking vodka and everyone knows who it was but they won’t break the bonfire code of silence

-L gets SHITFACED because “bonfire night only comes once a year, light-kun.”

-light watches in horror as several wasted children dump CANS OF GASOLINE on this huge fire and CHEER when someone nearly lights themselves on fire

- “L Beyond is gone.”


- the orphanage almost burned down that night

- light is forever traumatized by bonfire night at wammys and can never unsee the horror

darkness can't fight wildfires

I’m just as afraid
as you are

I am more afraid
than you are

I saw your face
today in soft

we know this growing
fire can easily burn
out of control
ashing us both

It’s not just
the new environment
it’s mostly
the promises of wild
adventure you gave me

you are the reason

I’ve always wanted to visit
but I never had a want to stay

now I have a reason
to never leave

it is sudden
and it isn’t
it’s not tomorrow
sooner rather than later
is now
highly likely
instead of improbable

we can’t understand our
souls flinted discovery

but we can pour

hold hands

walk through the fire
to the other side
give each
other everything we find
until we no longer. can

I’m not a photographer
but now every time
I pass by a flower
I focus
to pic it

things are
a little blurry
until you adjust the lens
to the light


Or: Sam likes Max, Max likes Sam, and The Geek Needs to actually get work done, so they need to resolve something stat. 

AKA: The one with the date

I am woefully late in finishing up a long overdue prompt for @thewittyarsonist for Zootopia, which I am hard at work on! But then the opportunity struck for something to give in the meantime, and I had to take it! Based on this absolutely hysterical (and really awesome) piece of art! Check it out. I couldn’t stop laughing. And then one thing led to another and I slipped this 13 page monster out between study sessions. 

For those who don’t know Sam and Max, you probably should. And that’s not advice for story reading. That’s just life advice. Go watch it. Witty got me hooked. So now I’m gonna get you guys on it, too. It’s brilliant. So go watch. 

(The prompt was Frustrated. So Witty, you’re getting the same prompt for this, and then the other for Zootopia! You’re getting it all!) 

(side note, this was impossible to write because if you’ve ever watched the show you’d know that dialogue, among many other things, is fucking insane. But that was part of the fun.)

Sam says “glad to have you around” like it doesn’t mean anything. And maybe it doesn’t. He says everything like that. The weather’s good today. How about those Mets. Intergalactic cheese wranglers have stolen the world’s supply of gouda. Pass the milk.

So when he says “glad to have you around” while he slaps a hand against Max’s back, it hard not to feel…

What’s the word?

Max reaches through his limitless supply of Seussian diction and pulls out “frustrated”, which is as mundane as it gets. But there it is.


He’s frustrated.

“Whatever you say, Sam,” he chirps, loading the bazooka and flicking the switch in their car to open the sunroof. “Now, you gonna give me a lift, or am I gonna have to vault out’a this car by myself?”

Sam lets go of the wheel and laces his hands together, their car hurtling over the cliff side. Oh, the Geek was going to fucking kill them for this one, but they’d survived worse than a perilous plunge and an angry adolescent. “You sure you wanna go out like this so early? You haven’t even had your coffee!” Granted, their coffee was now somewhere down in the depths of a rock quarry after the third spin. But Sam always packed a french press under the passenger seat in case mid-hurtle cappuccinos were needed.


It’s stupid and it’s little and they’re flying through the air, spinning around in what is essentially a glorified Campbell’s soup can, but the mundanity of the small show of care leaves Max once more regarding the word frustration with a certain level of ire. And through the smoke and the gasoline he can just catch glimpses of that safe smile and eyes. God, his partner was practically built for trust. So he puts his left foot into Sam’s waiting palms. “Save me a cup.”

Sam nods and grins and shifts for better velocity. “What floor?”

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anonymous asked:

David Bowie is basically human version of cat

Hmm whatever gave you that idea? The eyes like this?

Originally posted by missadler1897

Or like this? Or perhaps its the way he moves? We have footage of him in hunting mode:

And he did say that he and his lucky girl move around like tigers on vaseline! Like so:

Originally posted by vezzipuss

Plus he did do a song called Cat People for the motion picture of the same name. That and don’t ya just love the way he snarls?

And bites ;) Yep its true he is DEFINITELY a human version of a cat!

Thanx for dropping by! ^_^

anonymous asked:

I don't ship Jamilton but Gasoline was just...I can't... I'm ruined It's five in the fuCKING morning I have work at 8

LMAO IM SORRY?? good luck at work tomorrow ;0

Park Ranger warning you to stay safe and leave your flashlights at home.

(warning: long story)

I’ve been a national park ranger for close to two decades. Protocols have changed a lot in that time. I write this just to try to keep people safe for the next time you venture to the big outdoors.

Let me tell you about the last park I worked. I can’t be too specific about the location for my job’s sake. Anyway we had clusters of campsites that we rotated annually. The idea was to prevent one group from getting overused and worn down, let nature regrow a little bit. The winter had just passed, and our big summer season was a few months away. I’m sent out to check the suitability of the campsites to decide which ones need time to recover, and which ones we can open up.

Winters here are cold. Not too many people camp during the winter aside from rugged masochists and Boy Scout troops lead by people who believe they are rugged masochists. I didn’t expect to find much out of the ordinary. The first site was clear and ready to go. As I’m trekking to the next site, I see what looks like some debris and junk down a ways in a river valley. Looks like some jackasses set up an unauthorized camp down there. Usually when that happens, they leave garbage and smoldering fires. This is going to be a pain to clear up.

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HiJack one-shot:“Forever”.

Here you go, dear Anon: a proposal one-shot with Jack and Hiccup from There’s Always More. Thank you for the lovely compliments :) I hope you like what I’ve written.

Also posted on Ao3: Link.


Friends’ blood. Enemies’ cries. Children’s unseeing eyes. Jack’s eyelids felt sticky with sleep, and the blanket on his chest was trapping him in sweaty heat. He threw it off and forced his tired bones out of the bed. Pictures flashed and screamed behind his eyes. He rubbed them, imagining how simple things would be if he could just scrape those pictures out. It had been four years since the war, but there were certain kinds of pain, certain visions, that never fade.

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