i do not take long to jump from one thing to another

anonymous asked:

"crazy detention stories"...go

They’re really not that crazy I don’t think but fine- but as I had detention at least once a week for 3 years you’re only getting the highlights here:

  • So again, I only ever got detentions because I was late to school basically every day. Every single day, the office wrote me a late slip with my name spelled horrendously wrong. Different spelling every day. The most famous butchering was writing my name as “Millie Hoagie”. On my very last day of high school, I was predictably late, and they spelled my name perfectly correctly.
  • So listen my ‘reputation’ in school was basically “quiet good girl who’s never done anything wrong, ever, in her life” and “teacher’s pet” and the like. And despite the fact I was there every time all the ‘Bad Kids™’ who were also always in detention were always incredibly surprised to see me??? Like they never got over it. Every time I walked into the damn room at least half the class would be like “MOLLY YOU DON’T BELONG HERE YOU’RE INNOCENT!!” 😂
  • Also despite the fact I was basically invisible in the school as a whole all the trouble makers knew me by name because, and I quote a kid from my 10th grade Spanish class who was trying to hook up with me at the time here, “Guys like me are afraid of you, Girl, we’re just plain out scared that we gonna corrupt you!” and I still don’t know what he actually meant by that???
  • Bu anyway, this apparent rep usually gave me an upper hand with the teachers monitoring the detentions. Because, you know, some were fine, some were bitchy, some were insane. But all of them were pissed about the fact they had to be there instead of heading home.
  • The rules of detention were literally just ‘stare at the wall and don’t talk’, depending on which teacher they might let the students do homework. But since I was apparently a great person and always had the class’ incredulous response to me being in the room, they usually let me get away with sleeping or reading a book lol.
  • Of course…no one said any of the other kids were inclined to following the rules lmao. These were like, all the class clowns™ shoved into one room. Things always got real funny real fast.
  • It would always start off with the coughing game. If you’ve ever stepped into a school you should know what that is.
  • It would then escalate to everyone in the room playing catch whenever the teacher looked away for a brief moment
  • Detention was always in the health classroom so someone always tried to steal a limb off the skeleton without being to obvious
  • Some teachers would let people talk ‘quietly’ so jokes were fucking abound
  • One time I was minding my own damn business and a kid slides me a note saying ‘in like five minutes ask to go to the bathroom but head downstairs to the English wing’ before he snuck out without the teacher noticing. I get down there and he’s at one end of the hallway and another boy is at the other end. Upon seeing me, these boys run full speed down the hall at each other, leap up in the air when they get to the direct center, high five with full force, both scream in pain, and then hit the floor, clutching their hands. I was cracking the fuck up and trying to convince them to go to the nurse but they wouldn’t listen. I asked the guy why the hell they did that. He told me ‘because we wanted a witness and no one will ever believe you’ 😂😂
  • One time my sorta-neighbor Mike comes in and the teacher asked why he had detention and apparently, the principal had asked him where to find his friend Jose, and Mike responded “he’s out picking cotton” and the principal flipped out at what he perceived to be a racist joke and gave him a month detention. But the thing was, Jose was in an agriculture class and he was literally outside picking cotton that they had planted there earlier. Jose found it fucking hilarious and refused to tell the principal to get his friend out of trouble.
  • As I haven’t been inside a school building for quite some time now I don’t know if turtling is still a thing but it was…quite an epidemic for my senior class.
  • It’s when you turn someone’s backpack inside out right? But it was a full blown war with these kids. Trust no one. Never leave the room. Never look away. Holy shit. One of the best moments of this occurred in detention, when a boy reached to get a book out of his backpack to find it was gone. After 15 minutes of searching the room, he found it, turtled, hidden in a filing cabinet in the front of the room. Everyone, including the teacher, was loosing their shit, because how did someone pull that off so quietly and invisibly without someone noticing??? No one fessed up. The class was in fear of the turtle ninja for the rest of the month, but they never struck again. No one ever discovered who it was.
  • Guys: It was me.
  • One time it was raining and the teacher was in a bad mood so he insisted all the windows stay open. He left for a bathroom break or something and this one poor kid, who was now completely soaked as he was stuck with a window seat, just said “fucking bye” and just…climbed out the damn window. Left his backpack and everything. Didn’t see him again for at least a month.
  • There was one guy who always sold ice cream out of his bag when the teachers weren’t looking. Where he was getting it from and how it stayed frozen is beyond me.
  • Oh my God sometimes all the indie singer kids would just come and sit on the floor outside the classroom and talk loudly to annoy us??? The hell were they trying to accomplish??? Your singing ain’t special and you won’t be famous, please let us die in peace.
  • One kid had detention because when we were running laps in gym class he jumped up to hit the arch of the ceiling and accidentally set off the fire alarm. The teacher that day insisted on continuously referring to him as ‘the delinquent’, as if no one else in the room had broken the rules or something
  • One time one of the gym teachers was in charge of it and long story short he started doing the jersey turnpike. True horror.
  • One time the teacher got a call and she had to go down to the office and the second she was gone this one kid’s friend runs in with a huge tray going “Y’ALL I STOLE THE LASAGNE CUPCAKES FROM THE FOOD AND NUTRITION CLASSROOM” and we dined like kings.
  • Everyone would sometimes just break out in song for no God damn reason
  • One time one of the guys in charge of the detention was A) Not someone anyone recognized as a teacher and B) Potentially Stanley Tucci. Like…I was about 80% certain that this guy was Stanley Tucci.
  • He refused to confirm or deny or even give a name
  • One time I was really absorbed in my book when all the sudden a letter flew onto my desk, an anonymous sender that just said “You have a soft, sexy voice.” Neither of which is true, I’m pretty sure, and I could not for the life of me figure out who sent it omfg
  • One time a teacher was freaking out because he went to a psychic over the weekend and was told there was a lot of activity around him so I looked him straight in the eyes and told him I’m a medium and I can see that the devil had marked his soul and he threw me out of the room and refused to take that class for detention ever again😂
  • It was a hot summers day. The ceiling fans were on their highest setting. A boy nudges me, with a small carton of ice cream in his hands under his desk. “What do you think would happen if I scooped out a huge chunk of this and threw it at the fan?” he whispered. “Jamil, no.” I pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. Soon, the room was filled with confused screams.
  • Apparently all the other regulars™ had bought me candy grams around Christmas time so they were confused when I showed up to detention with no candy and apparently the student council member sent them all to the other Molly in the grade because she was the popular one and this lead to about 12 boys grumbling for two and a half hours like “The one damn time I attempt to be a gentleman” and “I know where she lives” and “Gonna gingerbread her fucking locker” I could not stop laughing
  • Oh God okay one time the teacher we had was literally. Off the charts.
  • Like there’s the chill teachers, and then the bitchy teachers. And then this lady. She literally reminded me of Stubel
  • So I didn’t even know who she was but I walk in and do my shy smile/quiet ‘hello’ thing and take out my book so she immediately zeros in on me as ‘the good kid’ as usual
  • But she literally seemed to think every other person in this class was a hardened criminal holy shit. She was all over the place barking orders and yelling. And of course, you’ve got a room full of class clowns, like they feed off teachers like this. So the madder she got the more ridiculous they got. I was literally almost in tears trying to force myself not to laugh because I didn’t want to risk her turning on me omfg
  • So she yelled and flailed about the room and they kept going with jokes and paper wasps and lying about their names and just doing literally every thing they could possibly do so this woman wouldn’t have the chance to rest
  • This escalated with every minute and came to a resounding end when the teacher decided the Australian Kid™ was chewing gum and picked up the trashcan and shoved his face in it, screaming at him to spit it out as he yelled back “YOU’RE ONLY DOING THIS BECAUSE IM AN IMMIGRANT
  • he was in charge of all the bullshit that day and it was hysterical but he wasn’t the one chewing gum loudly that was me
  • The vp came in to see what all the yelling was about to find a teacher shoving a boy’s head in the trash, one boy shirtless as another drew tattoos on him, the phone off the line with it’s cord wrapped around a kid’s neck, two boys dueling with skeleton arms, one kid with her leg out the window, a kid tying a skeleton foot to the ceiling fan, rubber bands and paper wasps flying from every angle, three people turtling backpacks, someone brandishing an epi-pen, sexual hangman being played on the chalkboard, someone eating ice cream and fanning himself with money, and me, crying into my book with my hand literally bleeding from all my efforts to not laugh at what I was witnessing
  • We never saw her in detention again😂
  • My one younger friend got a detention for being late and was really shaken up about it and I tried to tell her she’d be fine but then she got caught sliding me chocolate animal crackers during it, and subsequently got another detention because of this; somehow I was not viewed as an equally guilty party and didn’t get in trouble
  • This one guy came in complaining “You guys all told me to get a twitter and I get thrown in twitter jail my first day!” “That’s like a thousand tweets in one day, how the fuck did you mange that?” “Bitch I had a lot to say about McDonalds!”
  • One teacher came in and was like “I don’t feel like helping with homework but does anyone wanna learn how to hack a computer?”
  • Someone got caught pouring water out the window but when the teacher looked to see why she saw the youngest of the goats™ standing under the window with it’s mouth open waiting for more
  • One time the teacher wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom and after I asked for like the 5th time he said “It can’t be that important!” so I just pulled a pad out of my backpack and silently sat it on my desk while glaring at him and this 40 year old man looked like he was about to pass out and he finally let me go
  • I remember our final detention of senior year we were told that if we skip it we can’t graduate so everyone went into that room with a ridiculously nostalgic attitude and one guy finally stole the skull off the skeleton and we fucking tossed it around the entire time while singing and blatantly ignoring the teacher’s complaining lmao
  • I know there’s more but it’s 7am and this is long so all in all like…I do not miss high school but some memories are bearable lmao
Captain Steve Rogers, Lovecraftian Horror

Title: The Miskatonic Project
Rating: PG-13 for horror themes, death
Summary: Abraham Erskine may have invented something new with the Serum – or maybe he re-created something very old. Something…Elder.
Notes: I should be working on like three other fanfics but I had a TERRIBLE DREAM this afternoon and anyway this only took about half an hour to write.

***

Steve came out of the Vita-Ray machine…different. 

Of course he looked different – taller, thickly muscled, skin gleaming. But it wasn’t the change in his appearance so much as the…sensation people felt around him. Howard claimed not to feel it, and Erskine died before he could weigh in. Peggy felt it, but not in the way others did. To her, he seemed otherworldly, but like an angel or a religious vision – comforting under a layer of unreality. She even liked the strange black pupils he’d developed, so big and dark you could hardly see the whites of his eyes at all. 

Others, however…. 

She didn’t see him pull the Hydra agent out of the submarine after Erskine’s assassination. Only three people did – a cab driver, a little boy, and the boy’s mother. The cab driver wouldn’t say a word, and the boy’s mother stuttered and stammered so badly they finally gave up. The little boy just said, “Well, he got him,” and looked admiringly at Steve. 

Steve wasn’t wet, but the submarine lay on the deck of the pier, and the man next to it was dead, a rictus of horror on his face. 

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

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Y’all I Think I Got Sonic Forces Figured Out

Okay so I know we are all over the moon about the trailers and game play videos that we have gotten these past few days, but I honestly think that we have been glaring over a pretty CRUCIAL detail from the classic sonic game play video 

Think about what we have heard from the Sega Officials, this is not a Sonic Generations sequel. But how can this be if classic sonic is in the game? How are Sonic’s past enemies here alive and ready to fight? How is it not akin to generations if classic Sonic is alive and here?

But what is he isn’t?

What if this classic sonic isn’t the one from generations at all? But instead, from another dimension? Now I suppose Dr. Eggman may just be referring ro another state of time, but I don’t think the connection stops there. For the most obvious question, how in the WORLD did Eggman take over the world without Sonic to stop him? Its the focus of the game but H O W? In colors, generations and lost world. sonic had made stabs at Eggman claiming “Its like its his job to stop him” because, well? It is. Eggman knows this. He knows it far too well. In generations he went back in time to try to right his wrongs, to redo his errors and end Sonic but time and time again it didn’t happen. So what if Dr.Eggman instead decided to look beyond his world, to another dimension, with another Eggman? But why stop there? Why not bring forth a dimension where Sonic failed? Not only that, but a universe where Chaos destroyed Station Square. A world where Metal Sonic won the race on Starlight Speedway. A world where Shadow never helped to defeat the bio-lizard. A world where the deadly six drained the world of its life? This would explain why Shadow has suddenly switched over to the dark side, why Metal Sonic is still functional, why Zavok is alive and why Chaos is in his earlier forms before he became perfect chaos. 

 Of course, like the Time Eater, Eggman wouldn’t be able to do this on his own, as we have seen with our new villain: 

Now as menacing as he appears, these cubes are so….out of place. It’s strange on why he has all these cubes, and why the trailer makes them look as dramatic as it can. Showing our new villain SURROUNDED by them and then ending the trailer with him hurling them at you. It’s odd. So what are they if the cubes are so important? Well to put it simply,

They’re different dimensions 

Whoever this guy is, he is in control of countless dimensions, more than enough to combine and design a whole new terrible reality. A whole new HORRIFIC dimension, where Sonic has failed, and Eggman reigns supreme. What is the name of this devious villain?

INFINITE 

As in..Infinite worlds?

The clues are right in front of us, and all we had to do was pay attention. The trailer certainly wants to get the point across

Now, I may be jumping the gun on this one, with my head of fan fiction type ideals, and perhaps this new villain will just be connected to whoever you create as your own character, (either it be an evil twin or something like that) but who would want to do this? Who would want to bring total destruction onto a world full of peaceful people? Who would want to see the world burn and fall apart right before their eyes because of their wrong doings? Who would want to see people of the resistance fail hopelessly, desperate to save their once beautiful world? Who would want to team up with Eggman to decimate the world? Who hates Sonic so much that he would want nothing more than to force him to watch as his legacy, friends,home,universe fall apart? WHO IS INFINITE? Well I may be wrong, but there’s only one person who can and will

From the timeline that was erased. From the universe you reversed in Sonic 06. From the world you fought so hard to save and redo, rewriting reality so you could get the happy ending. 

Now, its his turn 

On a side note, Sonic Team knows that sonic 06 was a disaster, and make reference to it in the Sonic story episode in Lego Dimensions. Pretty coincidental or foreshadowing? Some other things we can consider as well could be that in 2012 we first heard rumors of a Sonic game called “Sonic Dimensions” The rumor said that we would be traveling to other universes with different color Sonics that had their own personality. My personal favorite, is a promise of a boss fight of an evil Amy Rose, wishing for Sonic’s pain rather than love. Now the rumor as we know now is false and was debunked and this could very well be a coincidence. However, this rumor broke out in 2012, a year or so after Generations and 1 year before Lost world released in 2013. I think we can safely say that Lost world was at the very least in early stages of production during or sometime after Generations especially with its ambitious game play style. It would have taken more than 2 years to make, with the game play style and everything else. This means, Sonic Forces could had possibly be in the early stages of development a little before Lost World, playing on the idea of different universes.I think it’s also possible that Sonic Forces may had been delayed at some point because of Sonic Boom’s games and tv show, since its not being advertised at the 25th anniversary game. Also is a pleasant time to remember that this happened:

Due to Gravity Falls’s more dark story telling, I think its safe to assume that Alex had some kind of influence on Sonic Forces’s story. Either way, 

We are in for a long deserved fantastic Sonic Game my friends. 

anonymous asked:

so, um. if you have any particular feelings about labyrinth--specifically Sarah--uh, go wild.

WILD PEACHES  [AO3]

.

The morning after Sarah Williams defeats the Goblin King, she gets up and makes toast. She has to brush some glitter off the toaster—it withers and vanishes at the brush of her fingertips, and she stares at her hand for a long time. 

It mostly just looks like her hand. Even when she turns it over, and sees where she scraped her knuckles against the oubliette, where the shattered mirror cut the back of her wrist. It looks like she fell, or was playing in the street. That’s all.

The toast comes out burned, and Sarah stares at that too. Eventually, she slumps down against the cabinets and cries, wracking sobs that send her dad and Karen rushing into kitchen. They check her forehead for a fever, put their hands on her, and keep asking, “Are you okay? Sarah, please, tell us what’s wrong…”

Eventually, her dad drags her into his lap and cradles her against his chest, like he did when she was little. Her legs are too long to really fit anymore, but Sarah hugs him around the neck anyway. “It’ll be okay,” he says, keeps saying. “You’ll be okay.” And Sarah—doesn’t laugh, because she can’t, and doesn’t have the words to express what—how—

(None of her stories ever talked about this. What did Sir George do, the morning after he slayed the last dragon in England? Did Tam Lin eat breakfast, or did he sit there, shivering, wondering if his hands were different, having been claws and wings and scales?)

Afterwards, she leaves the burnt toast outside on the back porch. Not an offering. Maybe a reminder.

.

It’s Didymus she sees the most often, mostly because he’s the one who invites himself rather than waiting for an invitation. He comes for tea, but even if there’s no tea—which there isn’t, usually—he comes to tell Sarah stories. She learns to love poetry because there’s no escaping it with him. (She won’t read Idylls of the King until Brit Lit in college, but she ends up scrawling a lot in the margins; Didymus’ telling of events had been much more interesting.)

Once, she falls asleep like that, her hands tucked behind her head with Didymus curled up and sleepily reciting from the crook of her elbow. “So tender was her voice, so fair her face—though I don’t think he was looking at her face, my lady, pardon me for saying so—”

Sarah buries her nose in his fur. Didymus always smells of rosewater, and a crispness she thinks is just…the Labyrinth. She falls asleep trying to place it.

She wakes up with a wild fox in her bed, animal-black eyes frightened and flat, teeth bared. The fox is whining, and she’s tempted to throw herself across the room, to get away from this wild thing and its teeth. It takes a monumental will to keep herself still and her breathing slow, even; like she’s still asleep and unafraid. 

It takes her longer to swallow, and start humming one of the songs he taught her—a knight’s round, he’d said. She’s shaky at first, but the fox’s ears flick forward. It cocks its head, and slowly, the teeth disappear behind its lips. 

She almost laughs when noses at her throat curiously, butting its head against her jaw like a cat might.

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Rick and Morty Theories Master List

ABOUT THIS BLOG 

~~~~~~ ALL ABOUT RICK (C-137)~~~~~~

Rick character study - Observations

  1. How is Rick so spry for 60 years old?
  2. If Rick was gone so long finding the cure for Mory’s broken legs, that his portal gun lost charge, why did he seem to only be gone a few minutes?
  3. That dimension with the cure for broken legs also cured aging, did Rick take any anti aging meds?

Rick knows he’s a cartoon character in our universe - theory

What happened to Beth’s mom? - Theories

When Unity met Rick - Theories

How much does Rick C-137 love his family?- Theories

How many times has Rick jumped realities and how many Mortys has he had? - Theories

Is there some truth in the fabricated memory? - Theories

How deep does self hatred go among the majority of Ricks? - Theories

What if Rick’s family are not actually related to him - Theory

Is Rick an Artificial Intelligence program? - Theory

Is Rick a genetically created being, designed by eyepatch Morty - Theory

Is Rick still inside a simulation? - Theory

Rick’s old band - Theories

Introspection is Rick’s Weakness, which leads him to self sacrifice - Theories


~~~~~~ ALL ABOUT MORTY (C-137?)~~~~~~ 

Morty character study - Observations

Is Morty a genetic experiment by Rick to create brain camo? - Theory

Rick C-137′s current Morty will be the one to take him down - Theory


~~~~~~ ALL ABOUT (C-137′s Current) SUMMER ~~~~~~

Summer character study - Observations

Summer will follow in her grandpa’s footsteps - theory


~~~~~~ ALL ABOUT (C-137′s Current) BETH ~~~~~~

Beth character study - Observations


~~~~~~ ALL ABOUT (C-137′s Current) JERRY ~~~~~~

Jerry character study - Observations

Jerry is Bisexual -Theory

Divorced Jerry - Theories

Jerry is capable of more than we thing - Theories


~~~~~~ ALL ABOUT VILLAINS~~~~~~

Eyepatch/Evil Morty - Theories

Tammy - Theories

Galactic Federation - Theories

Citadel of Ricks - Theories

Riq IV is Summer’s original MIA grandpa Rick - Theory


~~~~~~ ALL ABOUT THE MULTIVERSE ~~~~~~

Questionable science? - Nitpicks

There are multiple timelines within each dimension - Theory

Crossovers! Other franchises Rick has crossed paths with - Observations

Are Rick and Morty the same person? - Theories

Bait and Switch! Which Rick and Morty are we watching? - Theories

Rickest Rick, Mortiest Morty - Theories


~~~~~~ ALL ABOUT THE REST OF IT ~~~~~~

Where’s Squanchy? -Theories

Where did the Meeseeks Box come from? - Theories

Will Morty Jr Return? -Theories

What do the council of Morty’s do? - Theories

Pocket Mortys - Theories


~~~~~~ MISSING A THEORY? 

LET US KNOW PLEASE, WE’LL TRY TO UPDATE OFTEN ~~~~~~

Keep in mind I have 45 posts still in my queue so be patient with me

After the Parade

“Hush,” he says.

Above them, Cabal ships drag thick black smoke across the flickering twilight, and flames rise from the Tower. Legionnaires scour the streets, seeking out the cries of the wounded and afraid.

“Hush,” he says again, as the child starts to sniffle, and he pulls her into the shadows cast by an apartment block as a patrol makes its laborious way past. He was made to protect, made to serve, but he feels clumsy now; the hand on her shoulder is almost larger than her head and she has no armor to protect her bruised and burned skin from his rough gauntlets. When he tries to wipe the tears from her face he worries that he will be the one to break her.

He followed her screams, just as the Cabal did. He had no rifle to kill the Legionnaires that would have silenced her; dispatched the first one with his boot-knife but was not quick enough to catch the second unaware. It is dead, but his chest-plate is cracked and burned and the thing that eats the Traveler has also eaten his Light.

She is wearing yellow. A summer dress, for a celebration. When he offered her his gore-spattered hand she took it at once, and did not look back at the splayed and broken limbs visible beneath the rubble around her as though she knew there was no one left to wait for. He brushed dust and chips of concrete from the tight black curls on her head, and when she tried to smile her gap-toothed smile at him despite it all he knew that he would die the second death to save her.

They pick their way through dust-covered streets and alleys, one grimy hand holding his armored fingers, the other wrapped around the silent shell of his Ghost. He told her to keep it safe, and she clutches it to her chest with an intensity that would do any Titan proud.

To those behind the Wall, love and service. To those outside it, fury and fire. He is young: the Order’s maxim has never meant much to him, but here at the end of an Age he feels each word burning in his chest and he wraps his Mark around her shoulders like a cloak, like a little Hunter, to keep the nearness of the night from her as best he can.

When they hear the distant bursts of gunfire he waits until the chatter fades, then leads them in a different direction even though it gives him hope to know the City is still fighting. Perhaps if he ran to the violence he would find weapons or more Guardians, but he will not risk it. And so hours pass as they slink across the city, and as slowly as his wounds force him to move she still takes ten strides for every one of his. She has only one sandal, silver leather wrapped around a tiny leg, but he thinks that a single piece of armor is better than no armor at all.

He finds a battered pulse rifle in a street that leads to a square, tries not to wonder where its owner went. The magazine is full, but it is all he has and there is no Ghost at his shoulder to synthesize ammo. He bends to pick it up, never letting go of the hand that holds his own, just as a troop of Legionnaires turn the corner in front of them.

He pulls the child behind a crumbled wall. Waits one heartbeat, two; no slug throwers roar in response. Even so, they are between him and the direction he has lead, and he doubts he has the strength to cross the City again.

Love and service to those within. Fire and fury to those without.

The Legionnaires do not notice, but neither do they move on. More join them, and they begin to spiral out in all directions, continuing their search. It will not be long before they find him and the child. A narrow street, once hung with banners but now collapsing from the rooftops down, will lead her west, to the walls, away from Cabal patrols - as long as there is a distraction.

He lifts her chin as gently as he can.

“You have to run,” he whispers. He is bad at whispering. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“That way,” he says when she stares at him in silence, pointing with his outsized hand down the shadowed street.

He gives her a delicate push, points again. She blinks, once, then toddles into the dark, Ghost held close as though it will protect her. Perhaps, if there is a way to undo this disaster, it someday will.

He props the rifle atop the ledge, lifts his visor and sights with naked eye. There are so many, he thinks, and then bites back a laugh - there are only eight.

Love within. Fury without.

The rifle barks. One Legionnaire dies and the others spin in confusion, firing in the direction of his cover. He ignores them, squeezes the trigger again. And again. And again.

Love within. Fury without. Love within. Fury without. Love within. Fury without. Love within -

Something tugs his arm. He looks down into the eyes of the little girl, and pure terror finds him.

“I said run,” he growls, but she does not, her face set in a scowl. He shakes his arm and she does not let go.

A micro-rocket bursts against the barricade and he ducks, throws his body over her, sprays the rest of his bullets in response. The child buries her head in his cracked armor, her frail body shaking.

Never has he been so afraid to die.

He feels a fool. He tosses the rifle down, wraps one arm around the child and pulls her close. With the other he slams his visor shut. He takes a deep breath, and then another, and when at last there is a break in the constant fire he lurches to his feet, lifts the child to his chest, and runs.

It is hard, so hard, to move full Titan-plate without his Light to drive it. His body aches. Something inside is probably broken, and he does not know how long it takes a body to heal without a Ghost.

A slug hits him in the back and he stumbles but his armor holds, and he sprints down the street where he tried to send the child, the sound of jump-packs following behind. He ducks his head and cups himself around his charge, makes himself as big as he can, plows across the debris-choked pavement. The girl begins to cry again, though to his ears it is not the sound of fear but of fury, and before long he is roaring with it, and the two of them roar together down the long, narrow street as explosions scatter bits of ruins that once were homes. He does not know where he is going, knows only that he must go somewhere, that he will not stop until the child is safe or his legs no longer work; that when he has nothing left he will throw her from him and tear the Cabal apart with fists alone, Light or no.

He has stopped counting the impacts. Every step is a knife in his chest. The Legionnaires must be close but he does not turn, lest the shield that is his body fail. He can feel himself slowing, a sensation that fills him both with wonder and despair, but he cannot force himself to let her go despite his promise. Something cracks against the back of his leg, and he is too tired and too hurt to correct. He lands heavily on one shoulder, slides ten grinding yards, arms still wrapped around the child. At the very least, they will have to rip him apart to get to her. Maybe, if he dies quickly, they will not notice her at all.

Gunfire interrupts his thoughts, along with the sound of footsteps and the roar of Cabal. Hands grab him, drag him out of the street, but still he does not uncurl. He sees Hunter cloaks, Warlock robes, a Titan mark.

“Hush,” he tells the child, head still tucked close, while they cower in a doorway and around them Guardians fight.

“Hush,” he tells her, over their surprised cries of pain.

“Hush,” he tells her, over and over, until at last all is silent and he dares to lift his head and stand.

He helps the child to her feet, and though he leans against the doorway it is her tiny hand in his that keeps him upright. He looks around at their saviors: most are near as bruised as he is. They nod their heads, pat him on the back, and he opens his mouth to ask for forgiveness, for leading the Legionnaires here, but a Hunter shakes her head as though she knows what he will say.

Two Guardians lie dead. Truly dead. One Hunter, one Titan wearing the Mark of the Gatewatch. He waits the half-second for their Ghosts to revive them, feels sick when they do not rise. He swears that he will learn their names and add them to the Order of the Pilgrim Guard.

Someone makes cooing sounds and tries to take the child, tries to give her water, but she refuses to let go of his hand, refuses to surrender his Ghost. For a moment they stand there, all seven of them in a circle around her, and it is as though a different light has risen to bond them all.

They need ships. Weapons. Food, maybe. The child, at least, must eat. The Hunter offers water again, and he wonders how many new scraps of fabric she has taken for her cloak. A different Titan, this one wearing the Mark of the Six Fronts, hands him the dead Hunter’s rifle - then looks down at the child, still clinging to his hand, and passes him a sidearm instead.

They turn their backs to the Tower, and continue their slow march to the western wall. Perhaps they will find supplies along the way. If not, so be it - they are still Guardians, and they will save what light they can.

Love within. Fury without.

The Cabal have no word for ‘retreat.’ Soon, they will learn that the Guardians have none for ‘mercy.’


Words: @themothyards

Art: @artdailybykitty

anonymous asked:

What if Stiles and Derek's first kiss is post-nogitsune? Would he feel like a thief? Would he mourn the body that Derek never held? Would each brush of fingertips or kiss to his temple be a betrayal? They'd probably talk about the scars too. Derek would understand-- to an extent. But he grew up not without his history on his skin so he'll never understand how it feels to have that ripped away.

Their lips brush and Stiles turns away a second later, breaths shallow, hands twitching against the folds of Derek’s shirt. There’s warm breath on his cheek, the ghost of beard still so close and all Stiles can think is that he wants this. He wants this. And…

It’s wrong.

Those fingers, twitching against Derek’s shirt, smooth and uncalloused. The scar that used to live above his third knuckle just a burn-hot memory in his mind.

Everything still feels off in his body, out of balance, and he remembers the way Derek used to look at him. All tension and frustration in ways he couldn’t start to make sense of. And now Derek’s lips are in reach, a short turn away, and he’s murmuring out “Stiles…?” and all Stiles can think is…

“Do you want me?”

He can feel the stall in Derek’s thoughts like a physical reaction, and he wonders if there was a subtle tell or if… if he’d just felt it, inside, the confusion a flicker of chaos in Derek’s chest. Can he do that? Feel chaos? The Nogitsune drank it in and Stiles…

“Stiles,” Derek breathes again, a quirk of amusement in his tone. Thumbs smooth down his hips and Stiles fights the urge to rise into the contact. “Thought I’d just answered that question.”

And Stiles could leave it at that, asked and answered. Except…

There should be a scar on his hip, long and thin, from a fence he’d scaled once and dropped down five times faster. Derek should be feeling that right now, that piece of Stiles’ history, that stupid ten year old adventure laid out across his skin. But the skin’s smooth. Blank slate.

He shivers, gripping tighter into Derek’s shirt.

“No, I––” He can’t think of how to explain it. The thoughts are a choked feeling in his throat, a twist in his gut. Something like guilt and fear and he doesn’t even know what answer he wants when he leans back enough to find Derek’s eyes and say: “Since when? Did you… I mean, before…”

He’s not sure Derek knows what he means, but there’s a hint of flush under that dark beard suddenly, and Stiles gets a little bit lost in the contrast.

“Last summer.”

“Last––?” It pulls Stiles back, his eyes startling up. That was… most of a year, that was before…

A sick lurch sets him falling back out of Derek’s grip. Too-smooth fingers (uncalloused) slip too easy from Derek’s chest. His sneaker-covered feet might as well be walking over glass and he’s being dramatic except that he’s really not. Because if Derek wanted him last summer…

“That wasn’t me.” It sounds wrong as he says it, stupid, because… he was there that summer. He remembers every moment spent with Derek, researching the Alphas, searching for hints of Boyd and Erica. Charged smirks and snark and quiet moments that felt more comfortable than they should. He remembers the moments before summer too, when the thought of Derek made his heart pound and his body thrum in a way that could have only meant fear, except it hadn’t only been fear. He’d been scared of the Alpha too, and the hunters, and that coil of electric heat only sparked through his gut for Derek. He remembers that, like he remembers the scars that aren’t there anymore, and he can’t help running his too-soft fingertips over the smooth flesh of his knuckle as he breathes out, faint and lost, “…Was that me?”

There’s a too long pause while the question burns back into his throat, buzzing through his limbs like a current until he realizes he’s shaking from them. Was that him? Helping Derek track the Alpha pack? Helping Scott learn to control his wolf? Sitting by his mom’s hospital bed, watching her lose the long war to her illness, pieces of her flaking away like old scars, like a whole identity, like––

A warm hand closes over his, large and gentle, grounding.

“It was you,” Derek says, simply. Like there’s no question, like nothing’s changed. Like Stiles hasn’t changed. 

But that’s wrong. He’s not the same person he was before the Nogitsune, and he’s not talking in the experiences change you, huh kind of way. He’d had scars before. He’d had… a whole life written on his skin. And then he’d crawled out from inside his possessed body’s throat, spawned out like some alien parasite or… clone and––

“My body died, back there.” Four months past, and he still can’t wrap his head around it. That he’d watched himself bitten and impaled, spasm and cracking and shatter to dust.

The scarred body. His real body.

And he was left in… this.

Long fingers uncurl, stretching out slow. Thin, pale digits fitting strangely perfect between Derek’s, and Stiles can only wonder what it would have looked like before.

“…What if I’m not real?” He watches Derek’s fingers twitch, barely perceptible, tightening like they’re fighting to hold onto him. And Derek’s lost enough in his life, too much. It’s a dick move to say this, to take anything else away from him, but… “What if the guy you wanted last summer… what if he died inside the Nogitsune, and I’m just––”

No.”

The sureness of it has Stiles’ throat clenching. He tilts his head, challenging. Finds Derek’s eyes again.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

Which is just… it’s stupid how that makes Stiles’ heart jump. Flutter around like it’s fighting to leap the distance between them and plaster itself all up against Derek’s stupid, muscled, secretly sweet as hell chest.

Which… yeah, that’s nearly a gross enough visual to stomp his fondness boner in the bud. He sets his jaw.

“Did you know I used to have a scar on––”

“Your right hand? Just above the third knuckle, a burn.”

Stiles’ argument stalls out. He blinks, finger shifting to rub over the space, but Derek’s is already there, soothing the phantom mark over his skin.

“I… was eleven.” Because silence has never been safe for him. Because noise distracts from the too-easy pleasure rippling up his arm. “First time I tried cooking dinner for me and dad. Mac and cheese, it… didn’t go great.” He wets his lips. Looks away “Or… the other me did, I don’t––”

You did.” And Derek still sounds so damn sure. Stiles wants to believe him. He parts his lips, can’t. Because––

“Stiles, I’ve never had scars on my skin. I… can’t relate to what it’s like to lose them. But the things that have happened to me… they’re not any less real because I can’t see them. Every bullet, cut, punch I’ve taken…” He might sense the wince forming on Stiles’ face, and shakes his head, shrugging that off like it’s not important. But that’s an argument for another day. “Every scar life gave you… they’re still there. You’re still carrying them, inside you.” He flits his eyes down Stiles’ frame, then away, finger soothing over the ghost burn. “There are plenty no one would have ever seen anyway. But they made you. Who you are, and who you are…” He shakes his head, looks back to meet Stiles’ eyes squarely. “You recognized me when I was a teenager. That’s the same person who recognized me in the preserve.” Stiles feels his face heat because… even knowing Derek’s a werewolf now, he’d never put together that Derek would have heard his fangirl moment to Scott after Derek had walked away.

Before he can speak up, though, Derek’s going on. “You tracked me to Mexico. Faced down the Calaveras to save me. That’s the same person who stared down the Argents, drove a Jeep into a kanima, who hit an Alpha with a wooden baseball bat––”

“Two Alphas,” Stiles cuts in, because props, ok? “Two, that were…” His free hand mimes squishing, and Derek’s lips twitch.

“Two,” he agrees, and Stiles can’t not smile back. Just for a second –– fond, helpless –– then he’s ducking his head. Derek sighs, catches his chin. Guides it up until their gazes lock again.

“That was you,” he says, so firmly Stiles can’t help believing this time. “Was the man who clawed his way out of his own possession. Followed Scott’s howl back to the real world. And whatever happened to your body, whatever… magic gave you a new one, Stiles came out with it. Your scars are still there, just…” His fingers trail to Stiles’ chest, and something thumps out eagerly to meet them.

“Inside,” Stiles breathes, and the way Derek’s eyes warm makes him shiver with a proud ripple of pleasure.

“Inside,” Derek echoes. Runs a thumb light along Stiles’ lip. “You could have come out of the Nogitsune looking like anything. Wouldn’t change who you are.”

And damn, Stiles has fallen for a goddamn poet in a grumpy wolf’s body. …But then, Stiles is pretty sure he’d known that already.

His fingers go up, curl gently into Derek’s shirt.

“But… you like this body,” he prompts, and Derek gives an exasperated huff, pulling him in.

“I like this body,” he confirms, and it doesn’t feel wrong to hear that.

When Derek kisses him this time, Stiles doesn’t pull away.

Why yes, we should ring up every item.

I used to be a front end manager for a large hardware chain in the Midwest. It was early in the day (around 9 am or so) and my head cashier had called in sick so I was already behind in a lot of ways. Luckily I had a girl scheduled who was a former head cashier who had left the company and came back as a full time cashier. We’ll call her Jenny. Jenny was smart and worked hard, she was always professional and was quick with a joke. I liked when she was scheduled to work with me.

Jenny was around 7 months pregnant (and had the most awful things said to her because she didn’t have a ring on her left hand, but that’s another story) and I had given her the phone while I was trying to accomplish various tasks to set up my day.

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Nursey is so wrapped up in saying goodbye to the graduating seniors that he doesn’t notice Dex and Bitty disappear until Chowder pokes him in his ribs with a grin. “You’re gonna pretend to be surprised, right?”

Nursey is already surprised, and confused, but doesn’t say so.

When they get back to the Haus half an hour later, taking the long route at Chowder’s insistence, everything looks the same as it always does. That is until Nursey makes his way up to Lardo’s old room, determined to figure out what he’s apparently supposed to already suspect.

“Shit,” Dex curses when he spots him. “Uh, hey? Fuck. I mean. What’s up, Nurse?”

Nursey blinks several times in quick succession, but the image of Dex in the middle of hanging custom bookshelves on the back wall of their soon-to-be-shared-bedroom while surrounded by at least five of Nursey’s favorite baked goods doesn’t go away. “…I literally don’t even know where to start, bro.”

Dex’s head drops down with a beleaguered groan. There’s a number two pencil stuck behind one ear and a hammer hanging from one of his belt loops. It’s a good look on him.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Nursey adds.

“You weren’t supposed to know I installed this,” Dex mutters, eyes trained on the floor.

“And the pies?”

“That was mostly Bitty. I only made one of them.“ Dex shrugs a shoulder stiffly. "Well. One and a half.”

“And did you make me shelves too?”

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8 reasons why you should watch Sense8

[READ ON MEDIUM FOR A BETTER LAYOUT AND VIDEOS]

Most people probably know by now that Sense8 fans just pulled off the impossible and brought the ridiculously expensive and technical/organizational nightmare that is this show back from the death for a 2 hour special.

We believe we can get more than that, so does Lana Wachowski, creator of the show, who wrote: ‘It’s my great pleasure (…) to announce that there will be another two hour special released next year. After that… if this experience has thought me anything, you NEVER know

Netflix says it needs a bigger audience to be profitable, I’m here to fix that problem, here’s why you need to watch Sense8:

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A brazen challenge

Synopsis: Imagine admitting to Loki that you never manage to orgasm when are with men, making him smirk mischievously in response.

“Is that a challenge, my dear?”

So for the next couple of hours, he magically locks the two of you in your room and makes it a challenge as to how many times he can make you cum in a row. He pleasures you with his soft hands, his skilled and long fingers and his silver tongue before he fucks you roughly.

Pairing: Loki x Reader
Rating: M
Chapter: 1/1 (Oneshot)
Words: 4040
Warnings: smut. a lot of smut.

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Popsicles And Kiwis

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N
RATING: R
WORD COUNT: 4800+
REQUESTED: yes !

so this came from a small request about eating a popsicle and accidentally starting something that couldn’t be finished…….i went a bit overboard with it, but i hope u enjoy some smut! please let me know what u think :-) it rLY motivates me ! [feedback] [masterlist]

~*~

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An Overrated Cliché

Summary: That Spider-Man kiss video was definitely cliché and cheesy, which is exactly the reason that Spidey and Y/N have to do it.

Word Count: 2235

Warnings: Heights and Swearing.

A/N: casually drops this after almost a year without writing like okay!! okay!! please enjoy this (it has good format!!) :0 and thank you to @buckys-fossil for actually tolerating me and proofreading this, i love you!!! also this is a gender neutral fic!!!! if you followed me when i was strictly an aesthetic blog well then, hello i write fics too

Originally posted by kimtaeyoen

Summer weather was the worst.

Summer holiday wasn’t that much better, what with having cabin fever and all. It had been a week since you had left the comfort of your apartment and three hours since you flopped onto the couch and lay there. All of your friends had been busy, Michelle doing her protesting, Liz with college preparation. It left you with nothing much to do other than lounge around your home.

The fan placed on the coffee table was set on revolve and hit your body with cool breezes. Laying on your side and absentmindedly watching season three of Phineas and Ferb, you felt jealous that those children were creative enough to make the most of your summer. It was a big contrast to you, as you hadn’t done anything the entire few weeks of summer there had been.

A thought suddenly came to mind and you decided to act on it. Shutting off the TV and fan, you put on actual clothes and took care of your hygiene before fixing your hair and pulling on your sneakers. Making sure to had some money and the house key, you texted your mom.

to: mom
hey i’m leaving the apartment for the first time in days are you proud of me

It didn’t take her long to reply.

from: mom
Fine with me, I was about to kick you out and make you do something.

You laughed at her text before tucking your phone away and leaving the apartment and locking the door.

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Owl post

So you know how owls don’t need an address to find the person the letter is addressed to? What if these owls were even cleverer than that?

Imagine Draco, sometime after the war, sitting alone in his flat and not knowing what to do with himself. He feels so empty, but on the other hand, there’s so much he wants to say. But who should he talk to? There’s nobody there. So he just begins writing his thoughts down. Sometimes it’s little poems. Sometimes it’s like he’s writing a journal. And sometimes he writes letters, addressed to no one. He keeps writing every day and whenever he’s finished, he puts the piece of parchment onto the little pile on his desk, where he keeps all his personal writing.

If Draco had been paying more attention, he would have noticed that this pile wasn’t getting any bigger. It stays exactly the same, because his sneaky little owl delivers one per day to the person she thought could help Draco the most.

When she lands on her usual windowsill on Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the window is already open and Harry is smiling at her with a treat in his hand.

“You’re very punctual,” he murmurs as he strokes her feathers. He carefully takes the piece of parchment out of her beak and smiles as she starts nibbling at her treat. Harry suspects Malfoy still doesn’t know that his owl is bringing him these letters.

Harry had been puzzled himself at first, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out who had written these. After that, he had tried to talk to the owl, tried to explain to her that she must have gotten the wrong address, because surely this wasn’t meant for him.

But the owl had come back every day, bringing Harry another piece of parchment and Harry had found himself mesmerized by them. The poems were heart-wrenching, Malfoy talking about his day made Harry want to go over there and talk to him. But he doesn’t dare. He would have to admit, he read Malfoy’s most inner thoughts without his consent. And Harry doubts, the Malfoy he would be facing would be the same as the Malfoy in these letters.

Sighing, Harry settles down on the couch and begins to read today’s owl post.

I had a dream last night. It wasn’t one of my usual nightmares, but I guess you could still call it that, because this will very likely haunt me for the rest of my days. It was about him. We were younger, much younger. We were on the Quidditch pitch, but not as enemies. We were just flying together, laughing together. It was so strange to see him like this. His eyes didn’t hold the resentment I am used to. He was looking at me like I was his whole world. It still hurts to think about it now. The worst part, however, was the way he cupped my cheeks and smiled at me, right before he kissed me. I could still feel his lips on mine when I woke up. I wasn’t even sure if I had been dreaming or not for a second. Then, reality crashed down on me again. Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if he knew. If he had known back then. I’m not sure if it would have made a difference. All he ever did was hate me, just as much as I pretended to hate him. I regret he never saw the truth. All I ever wanted was him. And for one night, my mind granted me that wish. However, I hope it doesn’t happen again. Only if my mind decides to let me dream forever.

Harry feels dizzy when he puts the letter down. It’s true, he never saw the truth, never even knew there was a truth to be seen. He had never thought to look beyond their fighting and mutual obsession. Never thought it could mean something else entirely.

But over the past few weeks, he discovered a whole different side of Malfoy and thereby discovered something about himself. He wants to take Malfoy’s pain away. Maybe he’s been wanting to do that for a while. And now, Harry knows he can.

He jumps up from the couch and locks eyes with the owl, still sitting on the windowsill.

“You clever little thing,” he whispers to her, as he strokes her feathers one more time. She hoots happily, as if encouraging Harry to hurry up. So he does. He hurries out the door, to apparate to Malfoy’s flat. He has no idea how he will do it and how long it will take Malfoy to believe Harry’s intentions are genuine, but it doesn’t matter.

He will do everything he can to make Draco Malfoy’s dreams come true.


Part 2

Plagues Against Mankind That We Shouldn’t Have To Deal With At This Point What The Huck

  • When your hair looks beyond amazing but no matter how many pictures you take it looks bad on film so you’re left alone in your room at 4:43 am suffering because you’ll now never have photographic evidence of the time your hair looked like it was styled by the angel’s themselves just in time for you to rush off to the Royal Ball. Only you will ever have this knowledge. You know the hair will be a mess by the time you see another human being again. Cursed.
  • Un-skippable ads in the MIDDLE of videos. what the hell.
  • When you order a Bloody Mary but it just tastes like straight tomato juice and nothing else
  • When you’re romantically frustrated and No One Wants To Take One For The Team And Just Date You Already
  • M. Night Shyamalan announcing a live action Avatar: The Last Airbender Two in 2017 the Year the Lord Abandoned Us, Apparently
  • The unseen forces that walk and jump on your roof all night long. They sound too heavy to be squirrels or raccoons. You never see anything up there when you check outside. You go back inside and the noises immediately resume, only this time you can now hear them laughing at you. Why Cant The Invisible Edgelords Remain Calm
  • Those birds that just dive right in front of your moving car
  • Owls in places and times where there Shouldn’t Be Owls
  • Donald Trump
  • When the dude living in your walls won’t stop blasting his techno bop music 
  • Having to use your rock pet to kill attacking bugs because you have no other means of defense 
  • the fact that I don’t know how to access podcasts and if I ask I’ll sound stupid
  • When your glasses are always smudged or dirty no matter what the hell you do seriously how the hell has no one invented something to stop this yet
  • When the Slurpee machines are always out of blue raspberry 
  • When people reference ‘the office’ while talking to you but you don’t get the joke because you’ve never seen ‘the office’ and when you tell them that you’ve never seen ‘the office’ they look at you as if you personally skinned their great grandmother alive
  • That…the fricking,,,,,,warm thing in the air that makes my body moist. Why that there. unnecessary attack from the planet. why. I want sweaters not sweat 
  • the fact that I Have No One To See Spider-Man:Homecoming With And I Am Distressed
  • When the wild rabbits don’t pick up on your psychic communication that you are one of them and they run from you
  • When the wine is expired 
  • When your favorite flowers only bloom for like one week a year
  • The fact that you are currently not eating chocolate 
  • Donald Trump
  • The fact that there currently is not Buffalo Chicken Dip entering my body
  • Those people that walk up moving escalators 
  • The guy that dresses up as Sulley in Disney World that grabbed my ass when I took a picture with him
  • Every Villain Is Lemon 
  • When all of your facebook memories are boring or depressing
  • The Cicadas That Are Laying In Wait
  • Those people that are rude to waiters and waitresses 
  • When you wanna write something but you’re hit with the overwhelming feeling that no one will ever wanna read it so What’s The Point
  • Batteries dying
  • The Vampire That Twerks Behind You Every Time You Look In A Mirror But You Can’t See Him Because He’s A Vampire But You Have The Overwhelming Feeling Of Knowledge That There’s A Vampire Twerking Behind You
  • The fact that Owen Wilson will never truly know we Value Him
  • When you’re not even making noise but a random old man complains about how much noise you’re making
  • The fact that there isn’t a 24/7 Law and Order: SVU channel 
  • People who can’t make up their minds about Dr. Phil
  • Cramps
  • really just wanna circle back here to the fact that my hair looks amazing right now I look like a 16th century maiden who is escaping her tower to attend the ball where she must slay the beast to save the kingdom this is my authentic past life coming through to make my hair look effortlessly gorgeous but the camera is not cooperating and No One Will Ever Truly Know 

  • Good tv shows getting cancelled 
  • People that unironically wanna have sex with Bill Cipher 
  • Being awake at 5:36 in the morning
  • The glowing orb that refuses to move out of your sock drawer 
  • Those little green men that sometimes escape out of jars in your cabinets and you gotta battle them for dominance of your own kitchen or else they’ll add too much paprika to all your meals…like, what’s their deal?
  • cats that don’t love you back
  • papayas 
  • Clovers that don’t have four leafs 
  • When you have to have matching socks to look professional 
  • ageing 
  • the T-Rex that insists on stomping down the street every time you’re trying to sleep
  • Aliens being hidden by the government 
  • When you rhyme by accident 
  • When you try to rhyme on purpose but can’t think of anything 
  • The fact that I just had to google how to spell ‘rhyme’
  • Gender Stereotypes 
  • The decreasing firefly population 
  • 7th graders that constantly stick their fingers through circles as a means of silently making sex jokes
  • Weeds that are taller than me I must be the Dominant Inconvenience
  • Fahrenheit vs Celsius
  • Telemarketers
  • Those guys that come up to your house to try to get you to buy Verizon Fios 
  • We’re Running Out Of Chocolate 
  • When John Oliver Steals Words Out Of Your Mouth Before You Can Even Think Them Like The Creature From Midnight
  • Zac Efron not showing up to the HSM 10th anniversary party
  • People who just really causally do splits or impossible stretches while your tensed up immobile ass is forced to watch
  • When You start doing squats but it starts making your butt get smaller and you grow distressed
  • People that are, like, unironically mean to other people. What the f o c k
  • All my socks developing holes in them
  • Crushes that go nowhere
  • the fact that no one ever thinks to respect the soft, gentle Molepeople that have been quietly helping our civilization along without reward for hundreds of centuries 
  • Werewolves getting mistaken for Skinwalkers 
  • The giant ball of flesh under the ocean that’s just waiting to destroy us all
  • People Who Don’t Get Your Sense Of Humor 
  • No one acknowledging your selfies
  • Hunters and Cryptozoologists not taking the hint that Bigfoot simply isn’t interested 
  • The fact I can’t figure out a clever way to end this post



  • Mankind Becoming the Plague Itself 
  • Conan O’Brien and his immense hidden power that everyone chooses to foolishly ignore. One day, he will reveal his true form and strike.
Lava

Based off this video because I cannot stop laughing


It had started out as a simple enough dare, Dean and Cas would each get a total of 3 tries per person to try and “kill” the other by telling the other that “the floor is lava.” They would then have five seconds before they had to find a way to get off the ground and scream that the floor was lava to any unsuspecting passerby if there were anyway. There was no prize, not really. Dean just really wanted to beat Cas at something, and Cas didn’t mind if he got bragging rights.

Cas had been first, during a walk in the park between their two college classes on campus. “The floor is lava,” he’d casually said. Dean had not understood until he did, and at which point he only had 3 seconds left and nothing that he could use to get off the ground. Nothing, except, for a trashcan just up the trail. He’d made it with one second to spare.

“The floor is lava!” Dean screamed triumphantly, balancing precariously on the poor trashcan below him. He had managed to get into a crouch before the inevitable happened––when Dean went to get down back onto the ground and rejoin Cas he slipped and wound up wedging his butt straight into the trashcan. Castiel wouldn’t let him forget it for a week.

The next turn had been Dean’s, choosing to wait until Cas and he were on a grocery run to enact his plan.

“Hey, Cas,” he called the other’s attention while they were in the toilet paper aisle. 

“Hm?”

“The floor is lava.” 

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I Like You [Min Yoongi]

Warning: Contains smut. Do not read if you are underage.

A/N: This is very, very long. Grab a coffee, sit back and enjoy. Thank you to @katythekitty for your suggestions with the plot. I guess in a way this is kind of your requests? Idk. 


‘Y/n?’ Yoongi’s voice questions softly as you stretch across the floor of the dorm, arms reaching above your head to get into that tight spot in your lower back. His foot pokes out from his position on the low couch, gently nudging your thigh to roll you slightly on your side.

‘Mmm?’ You respond, the sleepy tone in your voice giving away the true nature of your state. The few cans of beer were sitting heavily in your stomach, a beverage that since your college days had always had you yawning before the night was over. Lazily, you flop on your side, scooting across the wooden panelled floors.

‘I was just checking you were still awake. It’s 2am and the movie finished. Want me to flag a taxi for you?’ You let out a slow whine, body wrapping around his feet to clutch his ankles tightly.

‘Why, you don’t want to hang out with me?,’ You pout, clinging to his legs like a small, fluffy koala. You could almost feel his body tense under your touch, an audible breath hissing through his teeth as your arms claw their way up his black denim jeans. ‘C’mon, Yoongyoong. I thought we were having fun. We are only two movies into this Harry Potter marathon… We’ve still got another 6 to go. Where’s your stamina?’ Your hands reach up to tickle behind his knees, before sitting upwards to envelop the entire lower half of his leg into a hug.

‘Fuck… you’re weird.’ His face was still flat, expression blank as he watches you crawl your way up his body, coming to sit comfortably next to him, lounging into the comfort of the soft black fabric of the long hoodie he had chosen to wear. Instinctively, your hands wrap around his waist, head placing itself in the crook between his shoulder and arm.

‘You love it, though, right?’ It takes a second, his body heaving with a deep sigh - the air of which dusts lightly across the crown of your head - before you feel his arm drop, grasping your shoulder and pulling you a little closer to him.

‘Not really.’ He responds just as flatly, a flicker of a smile lacing across his face so briefly you you wouldn’t have seen it if you weren’t trained in finding it. It’s the only evidence you have of what he was really saying.

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Flirt (Two)

intro one two
genre:
fuckboy!jungkook, college!au, smut?, angst?
words: 3.5k
member: jungkook  (ft. taehyung)

despising jeon jungkook as he hooks up and steals your best friend away from you.

(credits to gif owner for the gif that kills all)

Originally posted by bangtanofarmys

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Small Bump | 01

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader.

Words: 1,897.

Genre: Angst, fluff(?).

Summary: “Things you said when you were scared.”

A/N: I’ve decided to jump on the train and write these small drabbles based on various prompts as a way to take a break from my super long fics and have a different creative outlet. ALSO, highkey based on the song Small Bump by Ed Sheeran.

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The Train

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 4201

Prompt: Y/N walks in, and Harry notices she’s wearing yellow again, this time it’s a yellow sweater with a pair of dark skinny jeans and brown ankle boots, her hair is pulled back into a pony tail with a white scrunchie with little smiling suns and he swears that he has to squint to look at her. “Oh! I know you-you’re the guy from the train,” Y/N beams, “Harry, right?” she sets down the tray of muffins.

 “I didn’t tell you my name,” Harry snaps.

 Y/N pouts, “well yeah, but I’m also not stupid,” she says. 

“Are you joining us today Harry?” the man asked, “I’m Seth, I run the group.”

“Why else would I fucking be here,” Harry grumbled.

 Y/N grabs a muffin, ignoring Harry’s sour attitude, “here, they’re made with love,” she smiled, holding out the blueberry muffin.

 “Fuck off,” Harry says. He watches as her smile fades and the glint in her eyes seems to disappear, for a split second Harry feels like a dick, but then he realizes he doesn’t care and Y/N should just shove the muffin up her ass.


Harry was annoyed.

It really hadn’t been his day at all. His morning was terrible, he woke up next to a blonde and he tried really hard to remember her name-only to fail. When he asked her to leave she insisted on making breakfast, to which Harry responded with “feel free to grab something and leave” and then he proceeded to shower. When he got out, the unknown girl stood in his kitchen making herself a smoothie and toast. Her red lips in a pout, “come on, you can’t be in that big of a rush,” Harry ended up calling security, she was crazy.

When he went into the studio he was blank, the songs he did come in with were rejected and he couldn’t find the energy or muse to write another one. He was out of inspiration, nothing amused Harry anymore. He found himself not enjoying the things he used to love, drinks seemed to be the only thing that made him feel something (and it was only for a little bit). He didn’t enjoy being surrounded by his friends and family, his love for writing was slipping through the cracks, and his energy was fading.

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