just grab it


You wanted to
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
You wanted to
Hide the scars to fade away the shake-up
You wanted to
Why’d you leave the keys upon the table?
You wanted to

I don’t think you trust
In my self-righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die

Sometimes you just gotta sit back and remember the day the second LWA opening became a thing and the majority of the fandom was just bursting with excitement and disbelief because it was just that fucking good (and still is and always will be).

fredheads  asked:


don’t. even. start. the letterman jacket. the damn letterman jacket. archie won’t need it, why take it with him? so he leaves it on the back of his chair and one day jughead comes home from school and that’s the first thing he sees when he walks into the room. he doesn’t even think about it first, he just grabs it and puts it on. it’s too big on him at the shoulders and he could put both arms through one sleeve but it’s warm and comfortable and he feels safe when he wears it. and fred sees him with the jacket on later that night but he says nothing, his throat tightens as the sight but he stays silent, he just gives jug a little smile that says ‘it’s okay, i miss him too’.

TalesFromRetail: We're Not Real People

I’ve just read a few more stories about customers that don’t see retail workers as actual people (implied in the story, mentioned in the comments, etc), so I thought I’d share this encounter with one such customer.

It was a busy day, and I had once again been pulled to the registers to help check. I did what I always do: check people out until the lane behind me has no line, then turn my light off, clean up around the register, and go back to my department.

This day, I had just grabbed a few miscellaneous items from the register to take back to their respective departments, when a lady walked by with (what I assume was) her husband. She was slowly pushing a cart with a few items in it. As soon as I looked up from what I was doing, she said, “That girl over there doesn’t have her light on.”

Since it had been a stupidly busy day with stupidly stupid people, I was kind of at the end of my fuse. So, in the same friendly-but-making-a-snarky-point tone of voice that she had used, I said, “Probably because she’s leaving.” At this point, I had turned to make sure I had signed out of the register. I heard the lady say, “What?” I turned back around, and she had stopped. She had something of a serious look on her face, like she was deciding if I was being rude or not.

sigh I didn’t want to come off as rude and get complained about, so I switched to friendly, honest mode and repeated myself. “She probably has her light off because it’s time to go home. Or she has a break coming up. Or maybe they’re putting her on a different register.”

Lady: “I just don’t understand why they’re allowed to do that. Sometimes I see them checking people out, and they never turn their light on, even while they’re working.”

Me: “Yes, Ma'am. Sometimes our CSMs need to help get the line down, but they can’t stay on a register for very long, so they’ll keep the light off. Or someone will come up from the salesfloor and help out for a minute, but they can’t be here very long either, so they’ll keep the light off so the line doesn’t get longer.”

Lady: (pondering) “But at the other store” [we have a sister store on the other side of town] “sometimes those girls will close down their lane, even if there are lines. What am I supposed to do?”

Me: (thinking, Oh gee, I don’t know….go to another line and wait???) “Those people are probably done for the day and ready to go home. You could always go to another lane. I know the lines are long sometimes, but that’s just something that happens. If a cashier hits the end of their shift, it’s time to go home, and they have to close their lane.”

The lady had this pondering look on her face, but right as she opened her mouth to say something else, the husband jumped in, with a big grin and a laugh, like he was trying to put an end to this nonsense with a bit of humor.

Husband: “Well, I guess that explains it, doesn’t it?! Don’t work too hard, now. Have a good night!”

And then he started to walk off, with the lady slowly following him. I turned and bolted back to my department. I later told a CSM about it, and she laughed with me about how we really aren’t seen as real people. We’re just NPCs that live at the store and constantly wear that stupid retail smile, always happy to stay way past quitting time for all the non-NPC denizens of the world.

By: sarcasmbecomesme


If you’re one to always skip abs, try adding it into one of your lifts. Don’t wait until the end when you’re most likely to just skip it🙅🏻 (speaking for myself😂) I like adding cable crunches to my cable Upright rows and face pull circuit and also if you’re using dumb bells just grab a bench in between sets and you can do knee tucks, Russian twists or leg lifts! 🔥 (at Finger Lakes Health and Fitness Center)

Made with Instagram

Ugh, I don’t ship Penguin/Riddler for a whole host of reasons, primary among them that Oswald deserves better than any of the assholes in Gotham, and Ed is the perfect whiny ass poster-boy for the MRA movement, buuuuuuuuuuuuut, the show had better be going there, regardless of my personal feelings, or it’s going to easily surpass Supernatural for being the most queer-baity ever, because *what even* was that fucking song? There is NO answer they can possibly give me other than “yes, we’re going there” or “no, but we’re queer-baiting assholes :D” No other possibility.

And I might be okay with the mental image I have of Oswald coming back in a murderous rage and Ed being so overcome with emotion that he just grabs him and hugs him and falls crying at poor confused Oswald’s feet, while he begs forgiveness. Or alternately Ed thinking Oswald is just another hallucination and being like “okay, alright, FINE, I LOVE YOU, you asshole, but you’re still dead, so what does it matter???” I’d be okay with that. I still think Oswald deserves better.

tisfan  asked:

Tony/whoever you ship him with: Person B's cat gets stuck in a tree, tony tries to help, gets stuck while cat walks over him and hops down.

This is exactly the kind of cute shit I needed thank you so much!

“Tony Mew is stuck in the big oak tree again.” T’challa says, gesturing to the tree in the back yard. Tony looks up from his laptop and blinks at T’challa.

“I’ve seen you scale buildings, just go grab him.” Tony says, turning his attention back to his laptop. T’challa grabs the computer out of his hands. 

“I got Mew down the last three times, it’s your turn so put on your big boy repulsors and go fetch the cat.” T’challa demands, and Tony groans and drops a peck on T’challa’s cheek. 

“Fine, J grab my boots” Tony orders, and steps into them as they come flying towards his feet. He walks towards the back door with the best ass wiggle he can manage. T’challa laughs and follows him outside. 

“Mrrrow.” Mew stares balefully down at Tony, hair standing up on end. Tony’s heart melts seeing the little ball of anxiety. 

“I’m coming to get you stupid.” He assures the cat, and T’challa snorts. “What’s so funny?” Tony asks, activating the repulsors.

“Well, sometimes I can’t tell if you named the cat Mew or Stupid, and I wonder if she knows her own name at this point?” T’challa says still giggling. Tony laughs along, and flies up into the tree in an attempt to grab Mew.

“I also call her, Mewie, and Meowth.” Tony offers, and reaches into the branches to try and grab the cat who slides back towards the trunk. “Warning the tree may be damaged when I’m done.” Tony says.

“Just don’t set it on fire, please.” T’challa replies, and Tony feels a branch snag in the back of his shirt. 

“It’ll be fine.” He assures T’challa, and then he stops moving forward. He glances down to see the boot caught in the crux of two branches. Mew meows at him, and then jumps down from her branch landing gracefully on the ground. “You bitch!” Tony says, pointing angrily at the cat. “Do you see this?” He demands.

“Yes, that is a cat, not a dog Tony.” T’challa says placidly. “Now get back down here.” Tony attempts to pull his leg out but can’t get the leverage between the way his torso is trapped by the branch in his shirt, and the angle his knee is positioned in. 

“Um, I would love to do that.” Tony says, humming softly to cover up how awkward he feels. T’challa bursts out laughing.

“You’re stuck aren’t you?” He asks, as Mew prowls across the lawn towards him. Tony glares down at the cat.

“No, that would be stupid.” He grumbles crossing his arms over his chest. T’challa practically howls with laughter. 

“You are so stuck, do you need me to climb up and help you?” He offers between breathes, Tony glares at him.

“Maybe.” He admits, face red. T’challa takes one step forward and jumps, grabbing onto a branch and pulling himself into the tree. “Thanks.” Tony mumbles.

“I can see the headlines now.” T’challa teases. “Iron Man defeated by a tree.” Tony glares at him and tries to wiggle his way out of his shirt and get himself free, only succeeding in scratching his back.

“Ow.” He mumbles quietly, and T’challa drops a kiss on his forehead.

“Stop struggling darling, I’ll save you from the evil tree.” He replies, Tony groans, and glares at the cat below him. 

“I hate you.” He informs her, getting a soft meow in response. “I’m never living this down I hope you know that. It’s all your fault.” The kitten puffs out her chest as if proud. “I hate you.” He repeats. T’challa manages to free him from the branch in his shirt.

“No you don’t you love Mew.” T’challa replies, moving down to free Tony’s leg with a grace Tony could never hope to mimic. 

“I hate you too, making fun of me in my time of need. Rude.” Tony replies, crossing his arms over his chest. T’challa just laughs at him. 


“So, I’ve had a read over the questionnaire you completed at home and emailed through to us, I just need to grab the other documents from you too…” Imelda began listing everything they needed to have ready “Your birth certificates and marriage certificate, doctors letters & certificates, Police checks, financial statements and also, Elliott, a letter from your employer.”  

Kinleigh laid the folder she’d been carefully putting together over the last week on the desk and gently pushed it toward Imelda “Everything is in here” She smiled.

“Great!.. Oh, and I saw on the questionnaire that you have 2 biological children too?… Did you happen to bring their birth certificates as well?” Asked Imelda “No big deal if you haven’t, you can fax them over later this afternoon”

“Oh, yes… I couldn’t find anywhere that said I needed to include them, but I put them in the folder just incase!” Replied Kinleigh

“Perfect, and very well prepared, I like that!” Commented Imelda with a smile.

bitch…… life is like…. fucking weird man….. nothing’s real, nothing’s really a big deal if you really think about it like….. just chill and and just live it ya know just grab your fucking coffee chug that shit down and just fucking go that’s what I’m doing rn and I feel like a cloud or soemthting who cares chill out

anonymous asked:

I want to echo anon's thoughts. I work at my uni's writing center, and I've seen all types of writing at every level. I've know all about grammar and The Big Fancy Rules of writing. Honestly? Grammar is important, but like anon said, writing is about more than just that. If you grab your reader and draw them in, it doesn't matter! That all said, I think you do a fantastic job! Your grammar and all that little stuff is great! I wouldn't worry :) You excel at the stuff that's harder to learn.

you guys are all so sweet to me. holy crap. you’re gonna turn me into an even bigger narcissist than i already am.

but seriously. this is such a great sentiment. i don’t mean because you’re complimenting me (though, that is a plus). 

to me, it’s far more important that a writer has a compelling story to tell than perfect grammar. i’ve seen writers that have one or the other. i’ve seen a few that have both. i’ve seen a lot that don’t have either… and of these writers, the ones i remember, the ones i go back to, are the ones that have a compelling story and interesting characters. 

i don’t care how perfect your grammar is if your story is a snoozefest and/or your character is a one-dimensional stand-in. i want a story that’s going to grab me and shake me to my core. if you can do that with your words, then i’m not going to notice your grammar. 

of course, i say all this but don’t hold myself to the same standard. i fret about every little grammatical error i may or may not have made. but we are always our own harshest critic. 

my point is that i agree with you, anon. writing, specifically creative writing, is far more than grammar. 

writing is tearing out your own heart, ripping it to shreds, and placing a little piece of it into every word. a good writer is worrying about the placement of their commas. a great writing is worrying about the placement of their heart.


les mis moments that break my heart: 1/?

combeferre, bahorel & the rest of les amis trying to stop courfeyrac going after gavroche