it's pulsating

levels 1-30 of sonic adventure 2: go fast shoot stuff find gems

final level of sonic adventure 2: as the result of a failsafe left by a long-dead scientist intended to exterminate humanity in the event of his execution, you have awoken a colossal bionic salamander from deep stasis, an abomination of ungodly science and alien DNA, spawned from the pursuit of immortality. it has engulfed the hull of a long-deserted orbital space colony within its pulsating, hungry flesh, and assumed direct control of its propulsion systems, causing it to fall from orbit. you must share the ancient power of the colony’s chaos shrine with your nemesis to go super saiyan and fly out into space, dodging the eggs it’s constantly releasing into its own orbit as you repeatedly impact the dying kaiju’s sickly buboes to kill it so you can use your combined power to teleport the space station back into deep orbit before you are burned to death by atmospheric friction as the three of you hurtle towards the planet’s surface.

postgame: weird lil pudding babies

The Earthworm

Prompt: A huge worm bursts from the ground and catches you off guard. You fall back; the breath is knocked out of you. The worm’s heavy body pins you down and what you THINK is its head shoves past your lips. Something jiggly is forced down your throat; you can do nothing but swallow the indeterminate flow pumped into you and try to breathe. When you come to, the worm is gone and your jeans have popped open around a stuffed, squirmy belly. You hiccough and a little earthworm falls into your palm.    

First time submitter here.  I hope you like it, Anon.
~AJ

***

You couldn’t have asked for a better day. Both of Tenarus 4’s suns shine cheerfully in the azure sky with only a scattered handful of puffy clouds to break up the view of nearby galaxies glittering faintly through the atmosphere. Leaving Earth was the one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, but the promise of free land to those willing to cultivate it tempted you away as it had so many others. Safe and extremely fertile, Tenarus 4 held the promise of a good life. And you were more than happy to take a chance on it.

It’s only been a few days since you made planetfall, and now that you’ve gotten your prefab up and all of your belongings safely stored, it’s time to get a feel for the land so that you can start planning out your farm. That’s why you rose at first light, pulling on your favorite pair of jeans and buttoning up an old flannel shirt before heading out to explore your new homestead.

A lush forest surrounds the open fields of your property, bordering the grassy plains with the vibrant blues and greens of local flora. Someday soon you’ll have to take a hike back there and see what wonders lie hidden beneath the canopy. For now, however, you’ll stick to potential fields and areas that might need fencing off. The next few months were bound to be a bustle of activity as you start getting everything into place, and you won’t need any new adventures to distract you.

A curious spot far from the house and on the very periphery of your vision catches your attention not long after you start, and you head off in that direction to find out what’s going on. From afar the terrain seems extremely uneven, and as you get closer you realize that it is because this area is covered in large, freshly disturbed mounds of soil. They almost remind you of the little worm mounds you always found in your father’s garden while you were growing up, though these are much bigger and obviously not created by any worm you’ve ever seen.

It’s strange, and when you finally reach the place, you give one of the piles a little kick with your boot. The soft, damp soil scatters easily. “Yeah, it’s just dirt,” you say aloud to yourself. “But how did it get here? This is just weird.”

The ground in front of you suddenly erupts in answer to your question, the force of the explosion knocking you flat on your back. Your mouth hangs open to gasp weakly for oxygen as clods of dirt fall around you like hail, the impact leaving you momentarily stunned and struggling to catch your breath.

There weren’t supposed to be any aggressive fauna in this area. What the hell is that?

Looming over your prone form as the dust settles is an earthworm, rust red and segmented, easily twice as long as you are tall and as thick as your arm at either end with a much bulkier middle. The sight is almost comical, at least until it drops down on top of you and traps you in place. It’s denser than it looks and its weight forces what little air you’d managed to obtain right back out of your lungs, but before you can push it away, a pointed end that you can only guess to be the creature’s head is unceremoniously shoved between your lips.

The taste of dirt slams into your tongue at the same time you finally gather enough of your wits to grab at the worm and yank it back. Unfortunately for you the worm isn’t letting itself go anywhere; its muscles are firm and flex solidly beneath your hands as it pushes itself even deeper, the worm’s bristled head forcing itself over your tongue and towards the back of your throat.

You’re frantic now, slapping, kicking, arching up against the creature, but to no avail. You don’t dare bite in fear that it would break your jaw, or worse. You can barely breathe around the worm’s girth, and you have no idea what it’s trying to do to you, at least not until you feel its body pulsate and swell even larger in your mouth, rhythmically squeezing something gooey out of its orifice.

The warm, gelatinous mass has nowhere to go but down your esophagus.

Pinned as you are to the ground, you have no choice but to gulp it down, desperately trying to steal quick breaths around the worm’s body between batches of the stuff.

You don’t know what it is giving you or why.

You don’t want to swallow it, but you don’t want to drown or suffocate in it, either.

You can feel tears dripping down the sides of your face, fear squeezing around your heart and clenching your chest like a vise. Already starved for air, you quickly succumb to the specks of darkness invading your vision, the worm still pumping something down your throat.

*****

The light of the suns has faded to a soft glow on the horizon when your eyelids finally flutter open again. You’re alone, lying on your back in the grass with the dirt mounds still at your side. Everything is a little hazy. Perhaps your memories from earlier are all the result of a rather vivid dream brought on by something weird that you’d eaten. Perhaps you just found a nice spot to lie down in and take a quick nap after your walk. You have to believe that it’s true.

It takes you a few minutes to get your bearings. Your stomach is audibly groaning and gurgling, but you don’t feel hungry. If anything, you feel… full. Too full. One of your hands raise to rub soothingly over your belly, but instead of the flat, slightly muscular stomach you sported when you woke up this morning, your hand finds a taut, round dome.

You gasp, hauling yourself upright and moaning a little at the unexpected difficulty of the task. Your flannel shirt is strained tightly over what looks to be a belly in the fifth or sixth month of pregnancy, most buttons barely holding the fabric together while one had come unfastened to reveal your bulging navel. Your jeans have completely given up the fight, and you can feel them lying wide open beneath the mound of your distended belly.

The worst part is that not only are you full of something, but that something seems to be alive and moving. You can feel whatever the worm injected you with squirming and wriggling around, and the bulge of your belly visibly shifts and rolls. You’ve never felt so bloated before in your life, your stomach stretched well beyond its normal capacity. What’s in there? How will it get out? How will you get back to the house? You’re not sure that you can even stand in this state.

Suddenly your diaphragm lurches, surprising you with an intense hiccup. “Hic!” You instinctively clasp a hand over your mouth as only seconds later another one hits, and then another, your belly jerking with the force of them. “Hic…hup!”

Something tickles your throat.

You cough and then hiccup into your hand again. When you drop your hand away, you find a small earthworm lying in your palm, a miniature clone of the creature which violated you earlier. It’s covered in clear goo and tries to undulate across your skin. You toss it away, disgusted.

“Hic!”

Another tickle, another cough, another hiccup, another worm. The internal spasms seem to rile your unwelcome guests, making them squirm and writhe around in your gut even more than before. Your stomach burbles loudly, just as miserable as you are.

You’re not sure whether to laugh at the absurdity of it all or cry.

The next hiccup brings up two worms. Hopefully it’s just your imagination that they seem a tiny bit bigger than the last few.

You have a feeling that it’s going to be a long night.

How Jungkook would react to sex toys

The bed dips suddenly under something’s weight and a fresh, soapy smell fills the room.

“Jimin?” you call groggily, instantly recognizing the smell.

“Ha ha,” says Jungkook sarcastically as scoots under the covers and pulls you close. His hair is still damp and smells like your flowery shampoo.

“Not even a little bit convinced?” you ask, nuzzling into his neck.

“Not even vaguely,” he replies, his arms squeezing you tight against his body. “If you’d said another name, maybe. But definitely not Jimin.”

You laugh and press him tighter to you, never wanting to let go.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you say into his neck. “But how is it that you are home a full day early?”

“A lot of rushed deadlines and a lot more luck,” he says, reaching a hand up to stroke your hair.

The two of you lapse into silence, Jungkook steadily stroking you hair. You can almost hear his heart beating through his skin and your own heartbeat feels slow and painful at the thought of having him so close to you again.

In time you’ll remind him that this time, as all times before, you had missed him terribly. He would let out a tinkling laugh and tell you how much he missed you. He’d be exhausted, but he’d makes sure to plant a few sleepy kisses on you before falling asleep with his arms still around you.

You open your mouth to tell him how much you missed him when he suddenly says, “Urgh, what is that?”

He slides one arm off of you and reaches between your bodies to yank something out from under him. As he pulls it up you hear it spring to life in his hand.

“Oh my god,” you say, laughing loudly.

A look of heart-stopping puzzlement crosses Jungkook’s face as he pulls the vibrator out from under the covers. For a second the room is filled with nothing but its pulsating sound.

“Er, yes,” you say after a minute, avoiding his eyes, your face flushed. “I’ll just… relieve you of that.”

You reach out to take the vibrator but Jungkook pulls his hand out of your reach.

You look up to meet his eye and see that they have become dark and mischievous.

“So this is what you’ve been doing while I’ve been away?” he asks with a tut, turning the vibrator off.

“Well,” you say, trying not to laugh. “It was either this or Jimin.”

Jungkook laughs and presses back down on top of you. “Good choice,” he says, lowering his mouth to kiss you. His tongue moves slowly in and out of your mouth and your hand dips under his shirt to whisper across his back.

“Did you use it tonight?” Jungkook asks, pulling back slightly and letting his lips brush over yours as he spoke. You nod, your lips aching as they brush lightly over his.

“What…”Jungkook trails off and his tongue darts out to trace your bottom lip. A shiver scuttles up your body and comes to rest in your core. “What were you thinking off when you used it?”

“You,” you reply, letting your tongue flick over his bottom lip too.

“What was I doing?” Jungkook asks, his voice in a whisper. You feel one of his hands grope along your thigh for the hem of your nightshirt. When he finds it he slips his hand under and rests his palm on your upper thigh. You can feel his thumb is frustratingly close to your centre but his hand stays still on your thigh.

“There was some touching,” you say, looking up at him. You resist the urge to move your leg to jostle his fingers closer. “A lot of licking. A lot of fucking.”

Jungkook swallows hard. “In that order?” he asks.

You shake your head and run a finger over his lips. “Sometimes in that order, sometimes not.”

“That’s a lot to think about in one sitting,” Jungkook says, a smile on his lips. “Slow TV night?”

“The slowest,” you reply with a sigh.

Jungkook laughs and his hand finally moves from you thigh and a finger dips beneath your underwear.

“Since you spent so much time thinking about me doing all those wonderful things,” he says, pressing his finger to your core and rubbing gently. “I think it’s only fair that I do my best to bring your vision to life.”

“Hold on a second there, kid,” you say, smiling up at him and resisting the urge to grind yourself onto his finger. “I didn’t say I was thinking of you doing all that to me.” You lean forward and pull him into a kiss. The pressure of his finger on your core increases and you bite back a moan. “I was thinking about doing all of that to you.”

Originally posted by dream-bts

Masterpost: How BTS would react to sex toys 

7x13 Spoby Scene

Spencer walked into the ICU her heart beating fast. She was glad Yvonne was awake, she was beginning to fear she wouldn’t pull through. Seeing Caleb poisoned by A.D had made her realize how much she took for granted, she was lucky to be alive. Her shoulder which had started bleeding earlier in the day pulsated beneath its bandaging. Spencer’s heart leapt in her throat as two doctors wheeled a red cart across the hall, heavy looks on their faces. She recognized the machine as the defibrillator they’d used on her after her heart had stopped beating not once but twice. That’s when she saw him, Toby rounded the corner, his eyes a locked with hers, he looked like a mess. Spencer didn’t need him to speak, she understood just by looking at him that he needed her. “Oh my god.” She ran to him as quickly as she could just in time for Toby to collapse. Spencer fell to her knees catching him in her arms. Toby held her as if she were his lifeline, crying into her good shoulder. Spencer held him shocked, tears sprang to her eyes, how had this happened, Yvonne had just woken up. “Toby.” She whimpered not knowing how to express how much she felt for him. “I’m so sorry.” Toby said nothing just continued to cry, she’d never seen him so upset before and it scared her. “I’m so sorry” she repeated. “I’m so sorry.” Toby was falling apart in her arms, he needed her. How many times had she needed someone to catch her, to hold her? Now she had to be that person for him.

Anon Submit

Shamwow - a novello
SAIL SHAM VESSEL. FLY.
Sail sham. Fly on by. Boat, barge, raft, canoe, dingy, liner, pedalo, fun park swan, inflatable banana boat.
All one. All one.
All one in unity. Ride in my salty scratchy tears. Slide on by. Powered by mucus flowing, glooping, forming within me. Mucus flowing. Bile rising. Swallow. Hard.
United in eulogy. In loss. Lies. 
Truth gone. 
But no. 
Not gone. Burning. Invisible. Unseen. Indefatigable.
Truth. 
The truth grunts and slobs and plops its way through the undergrowth of the vicious teeth of sham. 
Sham. 
S. - H. - A. - M. 
One letter away from its pulsating inner sanctum. One trembling letter away from redemption.
E.
The E hangs in the ether. Quivering. Trembling. Burning to be homed. Begging for its endless placing. Put me there. Let me home. Let me become. Let me be ‘E’. Demanding. ‘Give me my E-ness’. Now!
Spell me. Make me. End me. 
The burning desire eclipses all.
The E must be homed. Returned into the final sunset. S. H. A. M.
Empty. Bereft. Longing. Unpartnered. Mocked.
The face of a clown. Tear. Trickle. Puppet strings. Fetchless.
No more! No! No More! The coupling must be done.
The 'E’ triumphs. 
Ending where it began. Alive. Gulping in its fill. 
Greedy, lascivious. Cuckolding the original. 
Remorseless.
E. - E. - E. - E. the gentle chant of righteousness echoes in chambers. Writhing, fornicating fuelled by the scents and viruses of ages.
The word is spelled.
S. H. A. M. …………..E. 
Done!
Shame. Sssssshhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaame.
With a light frisson of knowing the glistening word flutters into being like a stunted butterfly scorched by ambition and shredded, dripping. Oozing bovine excretia.
Stink. Rank. Ridiculous. 
Sham. Over. 
Shame now. S.H. S.H.aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame.
B. S. 
The initials always reveal their final destiny. 
Always there.
Known in the bones.
Creaking. Groaning. 
Carved from the very beginning by Satan’s canine smile.
Stalked, ravaged, revealed, released - by the truth.
And so the circle closes.
Begin. End. Begin. End. Repeat.
The end where we begin.
B. S. 
Always B. S.
B - uuuuuuull S - hiiiiiit.
Right that’ll do. What a load of absolute bollocks.

silverheartsilverskin  asked:

hugs him from behind nice and tight while nuzzling face against his back. :///

the muscles around his nose twitched at the scent of wispy golden hair cleansed with a shampoo that was as familiar as the tangled cut of manufactured leather & the blood that had dried within its cracks. the energy pulsating from her body slammed into him, causing broad shoulders to stiffen in anticipation, & a smile to form at the corner of his lips. he does not move, in fact, becomes so still that his breathing became shallow and deep. his chest barely rising at the small bouts of air that ran its course through to his lungs. almost as if he did, she would not draw in closer, instead become to a stand still. he could hear the softness of her shoes thudding against the ground, the quickness of air that moved in and out of parted lips, and the rub of material as her body crossed the short distance to her entrance and him. the taste of metal coated his tongue until he could no longer hint at the food he devoured not so long ago, and her heart pounded in his ear where he could almost turn it into the drums that wake him in the morning.

the moment her arms wrap around his stomach, an action that had once first demonstrated caused the dora milaje to stand on end, weapons poised ready to attack upon his word at the sudden threat. the smooth skin was stark against his dark shirt, the hardness that laid beneath such a velvet layer of human flesh, caused a ripple of goosebumps across his body. she was cold against his burning heat. reminding him of the early morning dew coating the vibranium buildings, chilling to the touch, yet unable to not let go. she retained this temperature by the mere wondrous ability that he wished to fully explore. in that moment, as the muscles coiled inwards, he wondered if she could squeeze him to death by a hug alone. a possibility he would not mind testing, under a different circumstance. 

such displays of her missing him were not necessary, however, he couldn’t form the words upon his ready lips. could not speak them to the head that had nestled itself in the space between his shoulders. the dainty nose pressed into the curve of his spine. how could he even think to say such a thing to an action that his sister on rare times displays and his mother constantly doted upon him? instead, he finds his hand upon her arm, tapping not to remove herself from his tightly wound personal space, but in reassurance for the both of them.

my duty as both king & warrior will often occupy my time. to understand & to experience are two different entities. rest assured, miss ana, i had missed your company as much as you seem to have missed mine. 

While I’m in this weird frame of mind I’ve also been thinking about the time when, many years ago, my dog pulled up a mouse nest and I manage to rescue just one newborn mouse before he got to it. I held it in my palm for a long time just looking at it, this tiny, blind, naked thing, entirely helpless and barely recognisable as a mouse. I couldn’t get over the fact that I literally held a life in my hands. Logically I know the same is true whenever a fly lands on me, but insects are so alien to us. This was a warm creature with a beating heart - which I could see in its pulsating veins - and I held total power over it, because it was the most helpless a creature can be. I remember I was absolutely desperate to find some way to save its life, but I couldn’t come up with anything at all. Eventually I was forced to put it back in the hole which had once contained its nest. I know I left it to die, because the mother mouse wouldn’t waste her time raising just one surviving baby, let alone one tainted by human scent. And logically I know that countless baby mice are born every year, and most of them die before they reach adulthood, but somehow the fact that I left that tiny naked thing to die still haunts me. I know there’s nothing I could have done, but I think that’s why it affected me so much: even though I seemingly had total power over the tiny life in my hand, in reality, I had no power at all; it would die whatever I did. It was like a reminder of how powerless I actually am.

The First

Warning: Sexual themes are slightly mentioned.

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 10,066

Note: A scenario based on perhaps two of the most terrible feelings in the world- loving someone who doesn’t love you back and being loved but not being able to return the favor.

~~

Firsts are always unforgettable.

Simple, fleeting impulses stirring excitement in your heart. Hesitant fingers and the ghost of a grimace as apprehension clouds your mind.

But no matter how many times the film of memories flickers through your mind as you squeeze your eyelids shut to revive the fluttering in your heart of your first roller coaster ride or the terror of having your teeth pulled out for the first time, the excitement sparking your fingertips doesn’t seem to return. Like an old photograph, the vibrant colors have washed away to dim hues and only the faded imprints of fleeting emotions and the ghost of cheery smiles remain.

Keep reading

The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane:

Leaving the unconscious man in the charge of my housekeeper, we all three went down to the deadly lagoon. On the shingle there was piled a little heap of towels and clothes left by the stricken man. Slowly I walked round the edge of the water, my comrades in Indian file behind me. Most of the pool was quite shallow, but under the cliff where the beach was hollowed out it was four or five feet deep. It was to this part that a swimmer would naturally go, for it formed a beautiful pellucid green pool as clear as crystal. A line of rocks lay above it at the base of the cliff, and along this I led the way, peering eagerly into the depths beneath me. I had reached the deepest and stillest pool when my eyes caught that for which they were searching, and I burst into a shout of triumph.

“Cyanea!” I cried. “Cyanea! Behold the Lion’s Mane!”

The strange object at which I pointed did indeed look like a tangled mass torn from the mane of a lion. It lay upon a rocky shelf some three feet under the water, a curious waving, vibrating, hairy creature with streaks of silver among its yellow tresses. It pulsated with a slow, heavy dilation and contraction.

“It has done mischief enough. Its day is over!” I cried. “Help me, Stackhurst! Let us end the murderer forever.”

And then Sherlock Holmes drops a rock on a jellyfish. The end.

Scribble-Doodle: Gift

This was written purely for aesthetics, just a flash of a scene that wouldn’t let go. Can you tell I’ve watched way too many anime in my life? 


Jace reaches out reluctantly to touch the darkly pulsating prism. Its warmth should feel pleasant, instead it makes his skin crawl. For it’s not just a pretty crystalline thing, it’s a prison, and inside… his parabatai, trapped like a fly in amber.

Alec’s lying on his side, one arm slightly outstretched, knees lightly bent, still in the same position in which he landed after he was hit with a violent burst of dark magic, after he tumbled and rolled across the stone floor, and before the malevolent energy imprisoned him inside the shimmering crystal.

“I can still feel him,” Jace says softly, hand still pressed against the surface of the prism, eyes fixed on his parabatai’s pale face. “He’s alive in there. I don’t know how, but he is.” 

Magnus joins him, arms wrapped around himself protectively. He’s exhausted; he hasn’t slept since it happened, desperately trying to find a way - any way - to break the spell. “Yes, Alexander is alive just… trapped in time.”

Jace finally looks away from Alec. “Why did he do it? Why did Asmodeus do this to Alec? He’s a demon, I get that, but we’ve never fought him before, he had no reason to hold a grudge against us.”

Magnus closes his eyes. He seems to crumple, shoulders rounding even more, as the slithery voice of one of the Princes of Hell echoes through his head…

“Now he’ll never leave you, Magnus, he’ll never age and never die… Isn’t it a wonderful gift that I’ve given you? Am I not generous…?”

Magnus swallows, his heart aching, and without opening his eyes, he whispers, “He did it because he’s my father. Asmodeus is my father and he hates me and he wants to destroy everything I love…”

“She is kinda cute, once you get used to her." 

- a common proverb about the goblin/fairy princess Ophelia

Keep reading

Harvard Gothic

+ There are tourists on the path. They appear every morning and disappear every night. When you walk to class, you can feel the weight of their glassy-eyed stares as you pass by.

+ Your TF reminds you to turn in your essay by midnight. Both of you do not talk about what happens if you don’t. No one ever talks about it.

+ There is music blaring from the room across the hallway. Through a crack in the doorway, you can see vague shadows gyrating across the wall in time with the music. Laughter rings out from inside. You do not remember a room being here before. You do not remember much of anything. In the morning, you wake up in the middle of the Yard. Everyone swears that they’ve never heard of a house called Dunster. When you return to your room, you find the whole building has disappeared. “We are doing renovations,” a grad student explains. You do not know who “we” refers to.

+ You go to office hours, but the professor is not there. In her place is a glowing sphere of light. The other students nod along with its pulsations. You agree as well. It is all starting to make sense now.

+ The lights on the Memorial Church steeple are bright tonight. A shadow scuttles across the white expanse. It looks like it has eight legs. “But of course that would be impossible,” your friend assures you. There is a soul-deep fear in her eyes.

+ As you walk to the Kong, a shuttle passes you by. The lighted sign claims it is going to the Quad, but there are no passengers aboard. In fact, there is no driver aboard.

+ You go to your entryway’s study break. Everyone pretends to eat. There is no food, but there are plenty of cats. “Don’t pet them,” your tutor tells you. He smiles, pulling on the bloody stitches that keep his cheek together. “They can scratch.”

+ Your professor draws the steps of enamine formation on the blackboard in chalk. There is no chalk in his hands. There is no chalk in the room. He is drawing white lines with his finger. He turns to face the class and his elbow crumbles into fine powder. He smiles and his mouth is lined with cracks.

+ When people ask you where you go to college, you tell them “Boston”. You have learned that when you say “Harvard”, people’s eyes glaze over and they stare at you vacantly. This signals that you have managed to activate the self-destruct protocol in their behavioral programming. They will be dead within the week.

+ You go to Lamont Library to study for finals. As you weave through the shelves, you come face-to-face with a grotesque beast, which shambles closer to you on twisted legs. Its hair is matted and greasy, and it groans as it stares up at you with vaguely familiar hazel eyes. You run away, but hours later it comes to you – he was in your Expos class freshman year, wasn’t he?

+ To enter the residence halls requires a small swipe of blood across the door. To eat at the dining hall requires the donation of a small section of skin. To gain access to a more restricted area requires a small part of your firstborn son.

+ You stand at the John Harvard statue, waiting for your friends. The weather is cold and you feel frozen to the core. In fact, you are so frozen that you cannot move. Your muscles refuse to cooperate. Someone touches your foot. “There are three lies,” says a tour guide, pointing at you. “This is not actually a statue of John Harvard.”

Mark of Cain

Word Count: 1282

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst, major character death(s), canon divergence, language

A/N: This one…actually hurt. Sorry. Written for Franzi’s @faith-in-dean June challenge. My prompt was “Pain.”


“It’s called the Mark of Cain for a reason! First, you’d kill Crowley. There’d be some strange mixed feelings on that one, but you’d have your reason, get it done, no remorse. And then you’d kill the angel, Castiel, now that one, that I suspect would hurt something awful. And then! Then would come the murder you’d never survive, the one that would finally turn you into as much of a savage as it did me…”

 

“No.” I sat bolt upright, covered in cold sweat, throat raw from screaming, both asleep and awake. I stood up, walking to the dungeon door and pounded on it as hard as I could, demanding to be set free. “You can’t just leave me in here! You need me!” It was no use; I was completely alone. Abandoned. They went to stop Metatron without me, knowing it was impossible. I turned to walk back to the bed, stopping when my stomach lurched and I threw up blood, shaking and sweating. I needed to kill. They left me no choice.

Keep reading

4
Caramelized Nectarines with Maple Coconut Granola. 

It’s been a seriously intense two weeks: I saw an epically moving opera (Dog Days, featuring two completely genius friends: Fellow food blogger Molly Yeh and brilliant college classmate Lauren Worsham-Jarrow), I honored the seventh anniversary of my mother’s death, and, yesterday, I wrote my dad a long celebratory letter of awe and appreciation.

As I bore witness to my personal sadnesses, the country pulsated with its own horrors of injustice and racist terrorism. I found myself looking away, turning into myself, averting my gaze. It’s so much easier not to see the grossness of humanity dying all around us. 

In the kitchen, in times of flux, I seek comfort and simplicity. This dish is great for an elegant breakfast or a simple yet satisfying dessert, capitalizing on the sweetness of fruit in the season. The caramelized fruit is perfect with salty-sweet granola, which, by the by, is an infinitely customizable recipe. 

Read more about how grief takes its shape in my heart, and get the recipe for this dreamy summer dish right here.

The sag-man
  • Nope, this is not a story about a superhero ("THE SAG-MAN", lol), but a sagittarius blew my mind today.
  • So! I work at a church this summer, the only thing I do is to sit in a chair wathing people come and go, and then this bikerdude comes in and starts talking to me.
  • Sagittarius: So, you work here this summer?
  • Me: Yep!
  • Sag: Do you go to church regularly? You know, besides working here?
  • Me: No, I'm not christian. I just work here, but I think it's pretty interesting to see how christians act and behave in church. Like, what they do when they are in a church.
  • Sag: But do you believe?
  • Me: Noo, not really.
  • Sag: But you have to believe in something? Almost everyone believes in something, and then there is those who believe in nothing. They still believe, even though it's nothing, it's believing.
  • Me: Hm.. I've never thought about that. Well, I don't know what I believe in I guess!
  • After this he started to talk about people believing, and then he said:
  • Sag: Do you believe in the big bang?
  • Me: Yeah
  • Sag: I don't. Stephen Hawking has walked away from his own theory, beause it doesn't make sense that it's suddenly a big bang out of nowhere. It had to be something before all this. How could a big explosion happen if there was nothing?
  • Me: Huh.. I've never thought about that.. It makes sense
  • Sag: And there are sooo many galaxies, planets and stars, and are we supposed to be the only one living here? If so, what's our purpose? If we're the only planet with life, there has to be a purpose to that. And if there's other planets with life, what's the purpose of that? Are we supposed to meet?
  • Me: ....*mind blowing*
  • Sag: If you walk outside, look at the nature. Look at how beautiful and unique it is. Why? There has to be some meaning of all this, that's hidden. That we don't know about yet, or we'll never know about it. Nevr know the meaning of why we excist. Or is there a meaning? Why us? Or why not us? And the universe is constantly expaning, or maybe it's just pulsating?
  • Me: .....*mind blowed*
  • Sag: WELL! I'm going to buy a cookie now. Really nice church, bye.
  • Me: ..........Whaa..t..

anonymous asked:

I request a sick!HIccup fic, if you don't mind! I can't never get enough of these.

A/N: Hello there, Anon! Thank you for this request- it was super fun, actually. It got a little lengthy, but I’m not complaining much. I kind of wrote all of this on my phone while laying in bed because I was too lazy to sit at my desk, so please pardon any errors! I’m incapable of coming up with a title, so…

Sick!Hiccup: The Fic. Fantastic name, I know.

Keep reading