i tagged this with enough shit i guess

  • Reporter: Neil Josten, do you have a girlfriend?
  • Neil: *Thinks of Andrew Minyard feeling comfortable enough with him to touch him and telling him to stay*
  • Neil: ...I have cats

Garnet Tells Jamie Off

An alternate ending to the episode “Love Letters”.

(Read the rest of the comic under the break!)

Keep reading


Hyuuga and Kiyoshi have an on going game of “who manages to keep live animals in school without letting anybody find out, especially Riko” and they keep sabotaging each other

Kagami’s excuse was so good, that hyuuga couldn’t get mad

Izuki was proud of Hyuuga for that extremely witty pun


Himuro, the loving brother

those brownies were totally safe, what do u mean

Gundam 00 Friendly Reminders

@sapphireswimming​ and I decided to compose this heartwarming list, just in case you weren’t sad enough about 00 already.

Feel free to add more!

  1. Tieria lost everything that had ever mattered to him in the span of two weeks: Veda abandoned him when the GN-Xes appeared on the world stage; Lockon died less than a week later; less than a week after that, Celestial Being was destroyed, and a shattered skeleton of a crew was left to limp back to Krung Thep with next to no hope of their continued survival.
  2. When Setsuna ran into Saji on Proud, it was the first familiar face he’d seen in four years.
  3. Feldt’s parents were 28 when they died, and Feldt was two.
  4. Dr. Moreno and Ian were best friends for decades before the show.
  5. Saji lost both Louise and Kinue within a week.
  6. Tieria and the Trinities were the effective ages of young children, despite their conditioning in Veda and their physical appearances.
  7. Lichty died thinking he saved Chris’ life.
  8. Ian was the only one on board the Ptolemy who had any semblance of a family left.
  9. Allelujah thought he killed Marie when he destroyed the Super Human Institute.
  10. Setsuna said he doesn’t have anyone to write a letter to when Feldt asked, but he’d already left one for Marina.
  11. Sergei never got the chance to formally adopt Soma.
  12. After Fallen Angels, Graham didn’t talk to Billy unless he wanted something modified on his suit.
  13. Lockon was perfectly fine with dying, because he thought he took Ali down with him.
  14. Allelujah spent days alone on the shuttle before he was rescued, surrounded by the bodies of his friends and covered in their blood while Hallelujah laughed.
  15. Sumeragi abandoned Celestial Being after Fallen Angels because she held herself responsible for everyone dead and missing.
  16. Feldt changed her hairstyle after Fallen Angels to honor Chris.
  17. Andrei and Sergei never got a chance to talk through their issues, and Andrei never got a chance to apologize.
  18. Setsuna was drawn to Marina because she reminded him of his mother.
  19. Anew was her own person and honestly loved Lyle, and the two of them probably would have lived happily together had Ribbons not meddled.
  20. Neil was never able to move past the bombing that haunted his every action and every thought until the moment he died.
  21. Despite not seeing each other since they were teenagers, Neil and Lyle ended up with the same mannerisms, the same haircut, the same affinity for cigarettes and old cars—and they both joined up with organizations hell-bent on fixing the government so that no one else’s lives will be torn apart by terrorists.
  22. Allelujah’s mission in episode 5 was to destroy Soma’s suit and kill the pilot, and the only reason he didn’t was because he decided to save the orbital block instead.
  23. Tieria didn’t know he wasn’t human until Regene told him, and struggled with his existence throughout the entirety of season one—which explains his desperate reliance on Veda and the Plan, which was the only direction he got when he was activated.
  24. Louise was a high school student when she watched her entire extended family get blown apart in front of her, and was critically injured in the process—and then, she was barely twenty when she was turned into a tool of war by Ribbons in a plot beyond her control.
  25. Feldt Grace is a codename, and nobody knows what her real name is, anymore.
  26. Tieria’s early reliance on Veda is reminiscent of a young child’s dependence on their mother.
  27. Should Lockon have lived to see it, he would have been impossibly proud of the heroes the rest of the crew had become.
  28. Marie’s only link to the world outside her head was Allelujah, who disappeared one day with no explanation or warning—and never returned.
  29. Lichty, like Lockon, was caught up in a terrorist attack that killed his family—and was severely injured by it, to boot—but he was still a loving, caring person who honestly believed in Celestial Being’s goals, and did not get caught up in revenge and hatred.
  30. Ali killed every member of Lyle’s family, and laughed in his face when confronted about it.

kat-the-shank  asked:

I'm just now finding out about this whole uncharted movie thing, I guess I've been living under a rock, but like????? It sounds shitty and I'm gonna cry bc they are going to BUTCHER the characters and everything else???? We need to stop this???

The salt dies down for a while and then Carnahan says something new about the movie and everyone loses their shit again (for good reason). I’m wary enough of what he’ll do not only to Nate and Sully’s character, but also Elena and Chloe (I believe he mentioned she might be in it? Can’t remember). If he can’t manage to pin down the personality of the PROTAGONIST OF THE SERIES, I have 0 faith he’ll represent the two women with any sort of authenticity. I’m preparing for them to be reduced to hot pairs of tits that fight over nate’s dick, because that’s likely what we’ll get.

However I’m glad Naughty Dog is saying “um yeah we don’t know who this person is” and is being clear they don’t support the movie. That’s something at least. It just needs to die.

(Also: I have a tag [#uc movie salt tag] if you want to see more about the garbage fire of a movie, since I’ve reblogged some good posts made by others about it in the past.)

I was tagged so i guess ill do this haha @allaboutdane

1- Name/Nicknames? Nicky (im named after nicolas cage but my grandmother thought it was stupid so she started calling me that when i was about 2 and its stuck)

2- Height? 5′11

3- Hogwarts House? Hufflepuff

4- Last Thing Googled? Irving plaza

5- A fictional character I’d like as a sibling? I really wouldn’t wanna get over shadowed so maybe like Luigi

6- How many blankets do I sleep with? 1, my house is too hot for anything else

7- Favourite artist/band? Melanie Martinez

8- How many blogs do I follow? Around 800, but ive been purging inactive blogs recently

9- What do I usually post about? Shit that makes me laugh 

10- Do you get asks regularly? Nope

11- What’s your Aesthetic? Pastel death kawaii nerdy stuff, i guess

11- Tag 20 followers- i dont have enough online friends to tag 20 haha @realityscrashingin @things-my-dad-hates @caffeine-corrupted @negativeconortations @unafraidtostaythesame

thisnerdwithanotebook  asked:

i read your tags on that pewdiepie post i just reblogged. can i ask what scares you about markiplier?

Well, I know there was some “””“debunked”““ rumors from like a year or two ago, that he pressured a follower (maybe a minor?) into sending nudes? At the time he was like “oh she’s just ~crazy~” but I take that shit very seriously, and the post I reblogged on the subject had some very credible looking evidence. (Hence the scare quotes, it was never debunked in my mind, but I think he convinced a fair amount of people.)

Also, I guess he’s a transmisogynist? So I mean, check out my tag if you wanna see all the posts, there’s not a ton of them but it’s enough to make me leery. (I’m leery of any of the dude LPers/YouTubers anymore, let’s be honest.)

20 Questions Tag

Tagged by @mrsrainnot, thank you sweetheart <3

  • Name: Erin
  • Age: old enough (sure )
  • Nickname: Rin by the familia, a select amount (bitch) by the bf, and Egoraptor by his squad
  • Zodiac: Cancer/Leo cusp
  • Height: about 5′2
  • Orientation: Plain hetero bitch 
  • Ethnicity: Filipino
  • Favorite Fruit: the fuck is a fruit (i really like cutie oranges though)
  • Favorite Season: Summer
  • Favorite Movie: Leon: The Professional and/or Trainspotting i guess, Silence of the Lambs was also p good
  • Favorite Game: honestly fucking Pokemon Mystery Dungeon for life bitch i cry everytime
  • Favorite Anime: Shit idk i’ve been really feeling osomatsu-san for a while now lmao, but i used to be a big fan of FLCL, Durarara, Ouran Host Club, etc idk look at my tag list those are my favorites
  • Favorite Song: I guess my favorite of all time is still My Kind of Woman by Mac Demarco or Break by Alex G 
  • Hobbies: I draw and shit
  • Cat or Dog Person: i’m not really an animal person in general but uh dogs sure
  • Favorite Fictional Character: too many to choose from, but aiko from Oyasumi Punpun will forever be my waif
  • Coffee or Tea: tea, coffee is poo unless it’s an ice cream flavor
  • Dream Trip: my fucking house
  • Best girl in Love Live: The fuck is a love live (help me kyla)
  • Blog Created: I think the summer after my freshman year

Tagging: @callmecubone, @kittyslovefantasma, @maro-kay, @sugarykitties, yeah that’s it ;0

endverse gothic

[tw post-apocalyptic grotesque bleakness involving dead bodies & stuff]

He’s headed northwest on I-70 when at last he’s finally forced to pull over.

In the end, it’s not because he’s out of gas, or because stalled cars and trucks have blocked the interstate completely making it impossible to go around. He’s had to go off-road surprisingly few times, mostly thanks to multi-vehicle collisions; drivers long since dragged from their cars and either devoured or turned, stuck horns no longer blaring, headlights dimmed. Only very rarely is the clump of accidents so bad and the shoulder so impassable (or, once, in Pennsylvania, a washed-out bridge) that he simply has to change cars: walk to the other side of the tangle and steel himself to pull whatever’s left from another driver’s seat. Then there’s a ritual: jump-start the battery with his remaining juice, hot-wire ignition the way he was taught; check the gas level, wipe the oil dipstick, examine the tires. Sometimes, to his relief and pleasure—an uncomfortable pleasure, followed by a thick sickened feeling he suspects might be shame—all he has to do is just turn the key, because whoever was about to die had startled presence of mind enough, was so schooled and conditioned by habit, that she’d simply turned off her car in the moments before death.

It’s almost always she, he notices. The same ones who leave behind well-organized purses and center consoles and gloveboxes, handbags he ransacks for their stores of tissues and lotion, candy and gum, painkillers and stronger prescription drugs. These are the women who keep bottled water in the cup holders, fruit rollups and energy bars in the back floorboards or seat pockets. When he is forced to switch cars, he brings everything with him, carries it in the largest handbag he’s found: a pebbled chocolate-brown satchel with a dulled gold stamp reading “kate spade.” He addresses Kate, sometimes, not just in his head but already aloud; thanks her for the water, for the lip emollients that stop his own from burning.

Even this far from big cities the sky roils with dark smoke, heavy and unsettled. He’s lost enough grace not to be able to tell what it is that’s burning, which chemicals and pollutants sift down through the air and sting his eyes and membranes inside his nose and mouth. It’s sifting away, too; he loses it by the hour—it dries up, like watching water evaporate from a puddle. I wasted time, he thinks, not with bitterness but numbly, and now doth time waste me.

(Sometimes in the cars he finds children, their gender obscured by decay. He needs to remember, tries to, that they were people, that they were just as beloved. Whatever rags the children are wearing, whatever length of hair remains on their skulls, he calls them all Mary, because that name once meant something. He unstraps them gently from their seats, arranges families together by the side of the interstate and starts the fire, leaving quickly before it can draw attention. He prays sometimes but only once he’s driving away, safe behind the wheel; sometimes tries to sing “Dies Irae” or say the קדיש, mumbles requiums under his breath, larynx hoarse, throat choking shut on the notes.)

Long ago, pressed into the clammy stone, years he spent listening enrapt to that one contralto nun, her voice like rich soft rainwater gliding over the modal syllables of “Ave, generosa,” transcendent hymns she wrote in Mary’s praise. Listened decades, half a century, until her clear skin wrinkled and she grew old, until she was not. She had something he no longer has, did he ever have it. Did humanity. Was it a thing that ever existed once, that he helped smash. Does she write psalms even now in her heaven, does she still cradle and lift into the light that glorious lucent glasslike orb of her fragile but luminous faith.

for heaven’s flood poured into you
as heaven’s word was clothed in flesh in you
you are the lily, gleaming white, upon which g-d
has fixed his gaze before all else created
around you he enwrapped his warm embrace
so that his son was suckled at your breast

He drives. He has to know, it takes days, he doesn’t sleep, doesn’t stop. Goes faster at night when he sees eyes gleaming out at him from the roadside.

And yet finally, It’s a billboard that does it, just a stupid fucking billboard, peeling and weathered, stuck out crooked from a neglected cornfield, and he pulls over because he starts laughing too hard to keep driving.

HELL IS REAL, it reads, with conviction, in uppercase block letters, white against black; and of course across the front someone has inevitably spraypainted the livid diagonal scarlet warning: CROATOAN.

He can’t help it. He watches himself break open, has watched this happen to people before, knows it’s hysteria but there is it anyway, like swallowing down nausea or gasping in fear, something bodies just do that can’t really be avoided. So he gives into it, gets himself out of the car—no one for miles, if the plague ever had been there it’s moved on—barely gets the door shut and then just folds over against it, his forehead smacking painfully hard against the glass window as his mouth presses against the bare crook of his arm, convulsing, opened and biting into skin to muffle the sounds. His shirt sleeve is torn off up high where he’d used it to bandage—bandage someone—someone who immediately didn’t make it. Wasted effort. And his own efforts wasting him.

HELL IS REAL. Hell is real! They had no idea how real. Hell is here, hell is now. He’s been to hell, spent forty years plummeting down through the worst it had to offer and it was nothing, this was infinitely worse and more wrong because this wasn’t supposed to—wasn’t meant to be hell—this was a deliberately planned paradise, and both the gardeners and their caretakers, they’d all conspired, unintentionally, through a series of colossally egotistical, blinded choices, to uproot, to defile, to spoil everything that— 

He catches his breath, reaches to wipe wetness off his face and his hand comes away filthy, streaked with soot. It’s hard to swallow, it’s hard to make his chest stop whatever it’s doing. His arm is dirty where his face rubbed it. He should use one of the bottles of water to wash, probably. Find more water.

Vaguely gray and furry, an animal darts off through the corn and the stalks quiver and rattle behind it. Eventually he’ll need to eat but he can’t think about that, not yet, not when hell is real. Hell is nearby, so proximate it throbs.

Hell is that he’s maybe an hour outside of Lebanon, with Detroit’s ruins behind him. And he is terrified—not of what he will, but of what he might not find there.


So I have failed at writing prompts and fic ideas for months now. Blame it on a combination of depression and school work, but I decided why not put that to an end.

It’s a little fic based off a prompt I liked that @kneekeyta @theblanknotebook@rhi3915@redprairielily@mydiaryofemus and some other lovely Emus had interest in, so here’s my shabby attempt. I guess I could tag @mmfdfanfic​ for the hell of it.

It’s short, 1350 words. I want to do a Part II but based on my shit track record, I make no promises. 

Keep reading

Wasting my breath, but...

To all the Reylo haters:

Literally just fuck off…seriously fuck off.

You hate Reylo, we get it. Trust us, with the amount of venom you have spewed in OUR TAG we get it! 

Do you fancy yourselves the moral compass of tumblr (or probably the world)? I feel sorry for your friends, I’m sure you bully them if they disagree with you on something. Do you think if you yell at us enough, or throw enough unfounded opinions/facts at us, we’re just gonna go “oh wow, gee whiz, I guess they’re right. Reylo is terrible let me just not ship that anymore.” No. At most we may look at it, roll our eyes, and continue as we were. Most of us have shipped worse than Reylo, so your little come to jesus meetings don’t mean shit. 

The Reylo shippers tend to stay in the Reylo tag. I can’t speak for all of us, but I don’t even tag my specifically Reylo stuff in the general “Rey” “Kylo Ren” “Ben Solo” or “Star Wars” tag. I’m not saying that shouldn’t be done, I’m just saying some of us avoid even that. So you are COMING INTO MY TAG and ATTACKING me and my fellow shippers. You wanna hate Reylo? Mmkay cool. Just stay in your fucking anti tag. We don’t even care if you say something in the general tags. Attacking a ship in their own tag is beyond stupid and childish.

So to summarize: 

Stop being pricks.

Don’t come into our tag with hate.

If you hate it so much, block Reylo blogs, blacklist associated tags.

DO NOT reblog a person’s fanart/fics/reylo anything that they have put so much effort into working on and add anti comments to it. DO NOT. That is completely disrespectful to the person and all the work they put in.

We’re not going to stop shipping it, so keep your opinions to your tag.

keep your opinions to your tag.

Because I’m a respectful person (unlike a lot of you), I’m not even going to tag this rant in the anti tag. I’m just going to leave it for you to find, because I know you’ll be looking through the Reylo tag, despite you saying you hate the ship so much. 

Not-At-All Aggressive Announcement

Hey hey, all you badass fucking laser-shooting unicorn-riding intergalactic space rangers!!!

The inbox is empty now, and I’ve got a long queue backed up of Personal Affirmations and then almost as many again that are more general!!!

This is fortunate cos I’m dealing with multiple personal issues at the moment. Apparently fate has decided to throw an entire year’s worth of emotional and medical drama at me within one fortnight. I’m gonna go ahead and hope this means I’m drama-free for the rest of the year!!!

So, I’m gonna leave the askbox closed, just for a little longer, til I get my shit together enough to open it again! I’ll be here, though!

Guess what one of my fave things is, though!?

I love to look through my notes and see y’all reblogging posts and tagging friends in them or tagging it as a message for all your followers. LET’S SPREAD SOME FREAKIN’ POSITIVITY, TEAM!!!

Y’all are the best, and I might have an announcement when I re-emerge from the Affirmation Cave. It’s a big pink sparkly cavern with a massive pile of affirmations, and I lay sleeping atop it, like some awesome fucking affirmation hoarding dragon!


- The Slightly Aggressive Affirmer