hide the pens


late entry for cabin pressure week, day 1: weather.

a glimpse into karl’s ATC textbook. he likes to keep it on him at all times so that when martin tries to claim he’s not doing his job properly, he can challenge him to find exactly where it says he can’t eat popcorn out of his hood.

anonymous asked:

“Did you know that you actually scare me?” Jughead confesses.

“I what?” Y/N looked up at him from her position on the floor, her hair was wild and unkempt, there we’re at least three pens hiding in there somewhere he would swear by it.

“You scare me.” He laughed, his eyes scanning over her tired features and the mess of photos and articles spread around in her space, “You are my best friend, and you scare me.”

“Hey! I’m doing this for you!” She defended, narrowing her eyes as his widened with his laughter again. “Stop laughing at me while I’m researching!”

“Y/N, I appreciate your help but maybe look after your sanity before my novel.” He mumbled, slipping onto the floor beside her and leaning his head on her shoulder, “Maybe you could even…. Brush your hair.”

“Don’t make me hit you, Juggie.” She grunted, shoving him off and standing up to go and find a hairbrush.


January 2, 2017 || 1/100 Days of Productivity 

Spent about ¾ of the day getting all of the Spanish III assignments turned in before the end of the semester deadline. Also rediscovered the bunch of G2 Pilot pens hiding in my desk and actually fell in love with them all over again. Also, throwback to the past summer when I lived in Boston and studied at the Boston Public Library every weekend (sorta regretting not taking more pictures of the courtyard). I am totally looking forward to that again when college comes up in a few months.

save me (2/2)

prompt: tehgreeneyes posted this beautiful au gifset and I was so inspired that I had to write a thing. Part 2 of 2. Read part 1 here!

word count: ~4000

rating: a for action and r for ridiculous flirting

It has been two months. Two months of loathing and wondering. Two months of sailing around aimlessly, drinking himself to sleep, and wishing he’d had the sensibility to do something to the bloody Crocodile while he had the chance.

His search has so far come up fruitless. No one has seen the Dark One and no one has seen Emma, and he doesn’t know where to start looking.

He’s been restless ever since Emma had been taken from him, keeping the night watch because he can’t sleep without nightmares of losing her.

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