i drive a porsche

my college is by a rich suburban town and every morning that i drive to from campus there’s always an influx of ubiquitous porsche cayennes and lamborghinis driving so recklessly and i wonder why any of them hasn’t hit me or my 2002 honda civic yet so i can have another source of income

Signs as Music Lyrics

Aries: “You can look all over but, no, you’ll never find hot shit like mine. It’ll blow your mind” (Kid Cudi // Dat New New)

Taurus: “Lean on me when you’re not strong and I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on.” (Bill Withers // Lean on Me)

Gemini: “Tell me if you have a toothbrush, if you don’t mind sharin’. She said I wanna take off all you’re wearin’” (Ed Sheeran // One Night)

Cancer: “But they all didn’t see the little bit of sadness in me” (Kid Cudi // Soundtrack To My Life)

Leo: “You said you’d be there for me. In times of trouble when I need you when I’m down” (Nneka // Heartbeat)

Virgo: “You’re cool, you’re cool, fuck you. And to the bitch that-oh yeah, fuck you too.” (Kid Cudi // Save My Soul)

Libra: “Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz? My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.” (Janis Joplin // Mercedes Benz)

Scorpio: “All I wanna do is get high by the beach, get high by the beach, get high by the beach.” (Lana Del Rey // High By The Beach)

Sagittarius: “I’m on the pursuit of happiness and i know everything that shines aint always gonna be gold” (Kid Cudi // Pursuit of Happiness)

Capricorn: “I cried tears you’ll never see. So fuck you, you can go cry me an ocean and leave me be.” (Fall Out Boy // Save Rock And Roll) 

Aquarius: “Wrap me up in Chanel inside my coffin. Might go to hell and there ain’t no stopping” (The Neighbourhood // RIP To My Youth)

Pisces: “I am happy, thats just the saddest lie.” (Kid Cudi // Soundtrack To My Life)

anonymous asked:

I love the blog and everything you guys do! If you have the time, can I have some Stackson fics? I'll accept any and all, but no-werewolves AU would be great. So would anything where Stiles and Jackson were casual, even then become serious! Thanks again!

Human Stackson coming right up. - Anastasia

Originally posted by fyeahstackson

change room talks by ericaismeg, foxerica (ericaismeg)

(1/1 I 1,628 I Teen)

“Checking me out again, Stilinski?” Jackson mutters, trying to catch Stiles looking at him. Only Stiles is bent down, untying his shoes. Why does Jackson feel a little disappointed? Maybe it’s because he likes when Stiles checks him out. It’s an ego boost. At least that’s what he tries to tell Danny and Mason.

drive my Porsche means I love you by tryslora

(1/1 I 1,648 I Mature)

Jackson doesn’t let anyone drive his Porsche, until he hands his keys to Stiles. 

No Plans by hazelNuts

(1/1 I 1,824 I Teen)

It started by accident. Or rather, an accident. Stiles managed to destroy his sunglasses and because Stiles was, well, Stiles, he kept forgetting to buy new ones. After almost a week of listening to Stiles complain to Scott about the sun blinding him on his way home and surely getting into an accident, Jackson had shoved a pair of his own sunglasses in Stiles’ backpack when Stiles wasn’t looking.

Chasing Cars, Oh how you hit me baby by MyNameIsSam

(1/1 I 3,215 I General)

Stiles got hit by a car. So far his day is going good.

It’s Not the Size (Well, Yeah, It’s the Size) by tryslora

(1/1 I 3,226 I Explicit)

Jackson never noticed what Stiles was hiding under his clothes; finding out makes Jackson want to take the next step in their relationship RIGHT NOW.

Little Miss Matchmaker by clotpolesonly

(1/1 I 8,211 I General)

Little Miss Elizabeth Jacqueline Whittemore might just be the perfect child. Teaching kindergarten is not easy, especially with Scott complaining about his (very) pretty-boy jerk of a coworker at every opportunity, but with a student like Miss Jackie, Stiles can probably make it through.

Howling Hills by lazybug

(10/? I 17,902 I Not Rated)

Jackson’s family owns a country club, and Scott, Allison, and Stiles are lucky enough to spend the summer working there. Jackson is a dick, but maybe he isn’t all that bad in the end.

Scowls and Sarcasm by dr_girlfriend

(16/16 I 26,054 I 

Why settle for less ?

I don’t want to be 30 years old with a C- Class Benz and a 300,000 house making 150k a year living a basic ass life . I want to be 30 years old traveling whenever I feel like it , having a vacation home in any state I want. I don’t want to work for anyone . I want my net worth to be 50 mil . I want to never have to introduce myself ever again . I want to drive a Lambo, an M6 , an R8 and any fucking Porsche I want . And I want every single one . I want to never check a price tag again . I want that 3.5 mil dollar house. The ball will be in my park for once when my name rings enough ears to blow your eardrums out .

Everything I’m doing now is going to get me there … Call me materialistic if you want . I already know that I am … I don’t care .

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,
So Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
—  Janis Joplin~

While it isn’t gone into in TOO much detail in John Dies at the End, it is thoroughly established in the sequel, This Book is Full of Spiders, just how unreliable David is as a narrator. In fact, it isn’t just established; the fact of Dave’s unreliability is a cake that our faces are shoved into with great gusto while the narrator also fucking farts in our faces.

This is shown primarily (though not solely) through Detective Lance Falconer. Lance Falconer, while not really a main character, appears several times throughout the book in a variety of situations. He is established from the very beginning to be not just handsome and cool-looking-

He sat in my tattered recliner, making himself right at home. Probably forty or so years old, dark hair with a little gray at the temples, about three days’ growth of beard stubble that followed an angular jawline. He had a chin butt. He wore a leather jacket that had been manufactured specifically to look worn and faded right off the rack, over a black button-up shirt that sat open at the collar with the top three buttons undone. He wore jeans and cowboy boots, legs crossed casually. He looked like he had been clipped out of a catalog and I immediately knew this was the owner of the Porsche.

-but also, on top of that, having led an adventurous and impressive life.

“Wait,” interjected John, from behind the detective. “You’re Lance Falconer!”
“Shut up or I will shoot you in the face.”
“That was driving me nuts all night. You’re the detective who caught the Father’s Day killer, right? Didn’t you throw him out of a helicopter?” Falconer didn’t answer. John said to me, “He’s famous. I saw this whole thing about him on A&E—”

His fame is referenced multiple times.

Before Cowboy could react, John said, “Hold on. Do you know who this is next to me? This is Detective Lance Falconer.”
Cowboy looked like he sort of recognized the name, but couldn’t place it. John said, “You can’t tell me you haven’t seen him on the news. He caught the Portland Strangler?”
From behind Cowboy, a lady said, “Oh my God, it is him!”
“Show them your ID, detective.”
Falconer did. The lady was duly impressed.
[…]
Falconer said, “I’m standing up now.” He did. No one objected.
A kid in the crowd said, “What’s it like to fight somebody on top of a train?”
“Windy.”

As are his looks.

But when I opened the door, there was Detective Lance Falconer, in a black turtleneck and looking cropped from a cover of GQ. It actually took me a second to notice the crutches.

And his Porsche, which some of you might have noticed mentioned at the end of the first quote, but I’m not gonna go find more material. Needless to say it appears numerous times.

All of these things are established, and then, in the epilogue, things are finally wrapped up. This part is a bit long, so please bear with me.

“And how are you going to tell the story?”
“I’m going to tell the most ridiculous possible version of it I can think of. People are going to close it and be like, ‘What the fuck did I just read?’”
He nodded. “I have material that you won’t have access to. I got transcripts of the radio chatter between the pilots. Some other stuff you won’t be able to get.”
“I’d love to have you on board.”
“I’ll cooperate on one condition. You portray the coolest version of me possible. I’m talking total action hero here. If you’re making things up, then embellish me into a badass.”
“I can do that.”
“And give me a cool name. And make me good-looking.”
“Sure.”
“And say I drive a Porsche.”
“What? Where are you gonna get a Porsche on a cop salary?”
“Because I’m awesome. Alex Cross drives one. So does Lucas Davenport.”
“What, are those cops you know?”
He headed for the door, moving more smoothly on the crutches than I did on my own legs. On his way out he turned and said, “And don’t put a bunch of bullshit in my mouth, or get cute and try to make me look stupid. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the salon to have my pubic hair straightened and dyed white so that my dick looks like Santa Claus.” He closed the door, farting loudly all the way to his car.
I went and pulled my taquitos from the oven. I let them cool and went back to my place at the kitchen window. Falconer’s gleaming new Porsche was turning around in my yard, pulling through the snow and disappearing down the street. Actually, now that I looked at it I think it was a Ferrari.

So, there you go. As I said, there are multiple examples appearing throughout both books that set up just how little information of David’s that we can really truly trust, but Detective Lance Falconer as a character is the most, well, blunt example, and therefore the easiest to pull from the text to show those who are either not familiar with the source material, or (like me) not good at reading into literature, or possibly both.

Look, my point is, there is nobody who can truly claim with all absolute certainty that Dave, Amy, and John aren’t all lesbians. You can’t prove they aren’t. Reality is an illusion, and at best a huge joke. Fucking fight me.


Alone

Originally posted by prettymuchhorny

Requested by anonymous:

“Could you do a Jackson imagine where the two have always been best friends and the reader has been infatuated with Scott for years but then Allison and Kira show up and she never gets a chance and since Jackson moved (they still keep in contact) and her parents are always away on business trips, she feels alone and calls Jackson up and he confesses his love for her and offers for her to move in with him?”

Warnings: Swearing, angst


Jackson Whittemore could be an A grade jerk. Everyone knew that, even you knew that and he was your best friend.

You two were an odd pair, and most people would not have pegged you two as the type to speak to each other let alone be best friends. You had a reputation at the school for being nice, like the nicest girl in the grade. And Jackson? Well the way people literally dived out of the way when he walked down the halls pretty much spoke for itself.

Keep reading

Just Call My Name (I'll Be There)//Scott McCall

(A/N): After an unfortunate confrontation with Jackson, reader seeks comfort from a very special werewolf…

This is my first time writing a Scott imagine, so sorry for any OOCness, but I hope you enjoy nonethless.

Warnings: Language, possible feels, really long

Word count: 5,522 (Oops…)

~*~


Your ears perked up as a familiar figure leaned against the locker to your side. The smell of strong cologne and mint entered your lungs as you dropped your last book in the bottom of your locker. Looking to your side, you saw a suave Jackson biting his lip like an idiot. He ran a hand through his golden hair, making you roll your eyes.


“You’re so beautiful, you made me forget my pickup line,” he purred, sending you a wink. The simple act made your stomach knot in disgust.


“Hopefully I’ll forget this conversation,” you retorted, slamming your locker shut. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jackson jump, but quickly regain his cool persona. Turning away from the hormonal teenager, you began walked in the other direction; until a strong force stopped you.


“Com'on, baby,” he coaxes, gripping at your waist from behind. “Don’t be like that.” His chin rested gently on your shoulder as his warm breath ghosted over your sensitive skin, sending chills down your spine.


“No, Jackson,” you commanded, trying to wiggle out of his right grasp, but his arms only tightened around you. Your fingers struggled to pry his hands off of you. “Stop. Now. Before I–”


“What? Call your little boyfriend to save you,” he mocked, nibbling at the shell of your ear. Remembering a few moves from your favourite action movie, you slammed your heel on top of his foot as hard as you could, making his grip loosen immediately. A few groans erupted from his chest as you stepped out of his reach.


“Never mind then. Like I would really want a slut like you anyway,” he seethed, holding his injured foot with his hand. Your stomach dropped as the words registered in your head, though you would save those feelings for later. In the back of your head you could feel the eyes of your peers burning through your skull as Jackson began hopping in the other direction.


“And yet I still won’t fuck you,” you smirked, watching him stop in his tracks. If all of the attention wasn’t on you before, it sure was now. Jackson spun around on his heel, sending you a vicious glare. An unattractive sneer covered his face as his nostrils flared. You could see the rusty wheels in his head turning, deepening your devious smirk.


“Whatever. At least I-I,” Jackson stammered angrily; his face burning red as he paused for a few moments. “I-I drive a freaking Porsche.” A few muffled chuckles could be heard from behind you, making Jackson’s face glow even brighter.


“Really? That’s the best you can do? Can’t say I’m impressed,” you state, placing a hand on your hip for emphasis. He gave you one more pitiful glare before hobbling off into the distance.


Your confidence instantly disappeared as the loud conversations resumed. You assumed that at least a few of them were talking about you, making yourself feel miniature. Your chest felt heavy as you tried to take a deep breath to calm your nerves. But before you were able to comprehend, blurry splotches clouded your vision. Small rain-like drops ran down your cheeks as you swallowed deeply.


You turned away from the crowd; not wanting to draw anymore attention.The first bell finally rung, summoning some students to go to class. Your hand brushed against your locker as you tried to find the strength to pull yourself together. Suddenly a hand grabbed your arm, forcing you to turn around.


“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Scott questioned frantically; his fingers digging into your forearm. Through your tears you could see his eyes flash golden for a moment, pleading for an answer. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing as your body shook against his touch. His concerned eyes continued scanning your face while your answer remained in the back of your throat. Your tongue felt dry like sandpaper, inhibiting your speech.


“I-It’s just J-Jackson being J-Jackson,” you hiccupped, looking down at your shoes. A hand cupped your chin, urging you to look up at your gentle boyfriend.


“I should have been there to protect you,” Scott sighed sadly. He wiped a stray tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. Your eyes closed as his gentle touches slowed your heart beat.


“S-Scott, it’s okay. You c-can’t protect everyone all the time,” you choked out, placing your hand on top of his. Scott’s eyes gazed into your with much love, yet you could still see the civil war happening in his head.  His hand dropped to wrap around your middle, pulling you in for a tight hug. Scott smelled faintly of freshly cut grass and sweat, making you instantly relax into him.


“I can take him, y’know,” Scott offered, holding you tightly to his chest. You could hear the smile in his voice, causing the curl of your own lips. Shaking your head against his warm chest, you breathed in his sweet scent.


“I know you can, but I don’t want you getting into anymore trouble,” you acknowledged, pulling away from the hug. Scott’s hand reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before rubbing gentle patterns across your flushed cheek. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his soft lips to his eyes. An unknown force pulled the two of you closer and closer until your lips met; the feeling in your gut making you feel like you were in a cheesy romance novel. His smooth lips slowly moved against yours, generating a euphoric pleasure to wave over your body. You stayed in the same position for a while, savouring the moment. Sadly, you had to pull away as the sound of the late bell echoed through the hallways.


“Let’s get out of here,” Scott insists, nodding towards the exit.  His lips turning up in a cute boyish grin as he intertwined your fingers.


~*~

Thanks for reading!

Don’t forget to request.

-R

Black Nut - Beenzino (Translation)

(Narration:
[Ah… Beenzino….]
Beenzino
I wish I could become like Beenzino
Fucking swag
[Ah… Beenzino….]
Shit, if I became like Beenzino
I’d have the will to rap, fucking destroy it
Fuck Black Nut)

I wish it was mine, Beenzino’s money
Beenzino’s car, Beenzino’s clothes
Beenzino’s fan, Beenzino’s rap
The 24/7 everyday that Beenzino lives
The pay Beenzino gets per concert appearance
Beenzino’s schedule, Beenzino’s bank account
The entrance to Beenzino’s concert with the long lineup
The presents filling Beenzino’s waiting room
Beenzino’s popularity, Beenzino’s location
Beenzino’s nipples that bitches want to lick
Beenzino’s tone, Beenzino’s flow
Beenzino’s smile, Beenzino’s style
Beenzino’s face, Beenzino’s body
Beenzino’s IQ, Beenzino’s Seoul U.
The way Beenzino feels when he walks past a women’s university
If I could live as Beenzino for

Just 10 minutes, just 10 minutes
But the person in front of the mirror is me
That’s right, I’m just me
Just 10 minutes, just 10 minutes
No matter what I wear or how I style myself, I’m me
No matter how I rap, I’m me

Beenzino’s day, Beenzino’s night
Beenzino’s lips, Beenzino’s penis
Beenzino’s position on top of Beenzino’s bed
Beenzino’s exclamation, Beenzino’s ejaculation
Beenzino’s sweat, Beenzino’s partner
From college girls to super models it changes everyday
Beenzino’s breath, Beenzino’s skin
Beenzino’s flesh, Beenzino’s proportions
The mole beneath Beenzino’s eye smile
The passenger seat that’s pushed back in Beenzino’s porsche
Beenzino’s album, Beenzino’s hit songs
Boogie On & On, Far, Dali Van Picasso
Beenzino’s twitter, Beenzino’s insta
Beenzino’s follower count, Beenzino’s pictures
The way Beenzino feels when he’s on the stage
If I could live as Beenzino for

Just 1 minute, just 1 minute
But the person in front of the mirror is me
That’s right, I’m just me
Just 1 minute, just 1 minute
No matter what I wear or how I style myself, I’m me
No matter how I rap, I’m me

Beenzino’s armpit hair, Beenzino’s toenails
Beenzino’s pubic hair, Beenzino’s navel
Beenzino’s nipple, Beenzino’s tits
The shit on Beenzino’s panties, even that’s sexy
Beenzino’s guts, Beenzino’s organs
Beenzino’s kidney, Beenzino’s earlobe
Beenzino’s tongue phlegm, Beenzino’s sebum
The crust on Beenzino’s elbow
Beenzino’s dandruff, Beenzino’s dead skin cell
Beenzino’s sphincter, Beenzino’s booger
Beenzino’s piss, Beenzino’s shit
How would it feel if I became Beenzino

But I’m Black Nut

Just once, just once
But the person in front of the mirror is me
That’s right, I’m just me
Just once, just once
No matter what I wear or how I style myself, I’m me
No matter how I rap, I’m me

(Narration:
Idiot! Ha ha!
Hyung, Beenzino hyung
I really respect you
I really want to become like you
But it’s not easy
Just how the hell can I do it
Like hyung, huh? [Engine revs] HEY! Beenzino hyung! Tell me!
Where are you going? Don’t go! Tell me! BEENZINO HYUNG!
[Porsche driving off])