just things i found in my drafts

things to remember about gerard way:

  • they are 92% deaf in their left ear due to only wearing one in-ear montior onstage for years
  • sat on justin timberlake’s lap one time
  • wrote planet of the apes fanfiction
  • ships stucky
  • had a problem with setting fires as a child and once nearly burned the house down on accident
  • is afraid of balloons
satisfying language learner things

free resources that are actually good

common verbs being regular

being mistaken for a native speaker

understanding something perfectly

mastering a different script

managing a half-decent accent

being able to use your language skills in unexpected situations


sounds that aren’t horrendously difficult to pronounce

phrases that are easy to translate from one language to another

understanding an idiom

looking back at all your progress and seeing how far you’ve come

grantaire vs combeferre though is hilarious

  • books!! they have their stacks next to each other
  • one is clean and pristine with all the spines uncracked and it is #aesthetic 
  • the other is a m e s s
  • dog-eared pages, cracked spines, splattered paint, doodles, pages full of sarcastic commentary and insightful comments on post-it notes
  • they both claim to hate each other for it
  • (“Take your vile disrespect of books away from me, R!” “Really? You call actually actively thinking about the content of the book vile? You’re cleaner than Enjolras’ sex life!”) 
  • but they secretly envy each other
  • r envies combeferres’ ability to retain his thoughts without writing them down because COMBEFERRE ACTUALLY HAS SUPERPOWERS YALL
  • but ferre envies r’s liberty to express his thoughts
  • ferre prefers written text tbh and grantaire likes Art
  • b e d s tho
  • ferre has clean, white covers for his bed + neat fairylights
  • grantaire
  • o boy
  • List of Things Found On Grantaire’s Bed (written by Joly and Bossuet)
    • a 3 month old open packet of crisps
    • cookie crumbs
    • ink stains
    • a? noodle? 
    • 2 (two) brushes. just. there.
    • a cat once. he doesnt own a cat.
  • so basically
  • tag yourself im the noodle
gatsby on mtv cribs

[drives up in his bodacious yellow car] whaddup my name’s james gatz but you can call me jay gatsby!!! i’m 32 years young and i live in west egg which is a sick neighborhood that shouldn’t be confused with the healthy protein!! [quick shots of gatsby posing next to various parts of west egg] i live in this BALLER mansion next to my BEST FRIEND nick!! [points to nick who is standing at the door] say what up nick (what up jay) anyways i built this WHOLE thing just so i could impress this sweet piece of ass across the water!! her name is daisy and she’s married to some rich guy. but SIKE i’m rich too!!! i made all my money in the bootlegging business bc it’s PROHIBITION! fuck the government! (fuck em!) thanks nick! [high fives nick] let’s go inside


Mike doesn’t hear El’s voice. She doesn’t speak. Too weak, he supposes. But she’s always there, when he gets back from school, during the campaigns, when he’s dreaming (she’s especially good with dreams). The guys never see her, or they choose not to. Whenever a bulb flashes away during a campaign, whether it be during a celebration or a failure, they all give him sympathetic looks as Mike’s face lights up in a smile. But that’s okay. Because he knows it’s her.

After a year, he finally hears her. When Hopper shows up at his basement door, a fragile girl bundled in his arms, she says just one word, but it’s enough to make Mike start crying. “Mike.”

Okay, so Bitty is procrastinating by scrolling through Youtube and today it starts with husky puppies playing in the snow for the first time, but he ends up watching this contouring video where it starts off with this super cool music riff and shots of the mountains? It’s a really nice shot, but the voiceover sounds really familiar. Like, really familiar.

He spends the next couple seconds racking his brain until Derek Nurse’s Doppelganger’s face shows up “without makeup” and Bitty is transfixed for 6:43 minutes as Totally Not Nursey, Right puts a timer on and does a five minute face in real time. Five minute contouring. It’s mesmerizing, honestly

Then, the guy finally talks on screen and holy mother of the baby lord

So, he watches more as this guy who he’s pretty sure is Nursey combs and fills his brows and gets rid of dark circles and blemishes, uses a dark brown shadow as eyeliner and a pale pink shade in his inner socket and on the bow of his lip for an every day look. There are costume tutorials and filling in spare patches in facial hair, skin care routines, and reviews of products. Bitty’s like !!!!!! because he’s 100% sure this is Nursey but, like Nursey might not want the team to know about his tutorials and outfit videos because Bitty gets it, it’s the Hannah Montana glamour of it all and also yeah…….:/// and it might just be an open secret like his own vlog is???? 

He scrolls through Nursey’s instagram–well, his makeup instagram. It’s not the account that Bitty already follows, it’s his Youtube username, finelines, and it’s kinda…….ridiculously…popular??? It was featured on Buzzfeed apparently??? There’s those flat lays of Nursey’s outfits, lines of poetry, swatches of eye shadow and lip products and screencaps from videos, etc…. 

And while Bitty’s sure that someone in the Haus has seen his own videos, no one ever confronts him about it, so he’s just gonna let Nursey do his own thing while Bitty himself spends the rest of the afternoon watching dozens of videos in bed and maybe orders….some brow product online….like Bitty has blond brows and he would like some definition, thanks Derek

And then Nursey compliments Bitty’s brows once the product’s come in and Bitty’s had a few tries and watched a few videos and !!!! everything is goodt in the Haus

Wally coming back alive and catching up with Dick

- This is the young justice verison
- Artemis is by his side the whole time because he is not leaving her anytime soon.
- They go to the apartment because Dick doesn’t want to throw a lot at him at once.
- Just catching up on old times and where everyone is.
- Dick tried to keep it a secret that Wally came over because the family would be all over him.
- Tim found out cause well it’s Tim.
- He comes running threw the door to hug Wally at a speed so fast Wally was proud. He heard so many stories about him.
- Wally ask question after question about Bart.
- Jason comes crashing through the window and well Wally about had a heart attack.
- Shot I knew i forgot to tell him something.
- Yeah like the whole I am alive thing.

that girl isn’t fire, or steel, or ice;
she is the warmth of morning rays,
the softness of freshly-spun silk,
and the slow ebb of gentle rainfall.
her edges aren’t jagged and sharp like yours,
but smooth and rounded; a stone unmarred
by the cruelties of a world that would fashion it
into a weapon, into a monster.
(into you.)

she is no warrior, but something far more rare.
those beautiful eyes have seen the ugliest things
within you, and she has never looked away.
those delicate hands cradled your heart,
never minding the threatening thorns it bore.
she could have crushed it, could have broken it,
could have held it hostage or torn it apart.
instead, she brought it up to her lips and kissed,
smiling with blood running down her chin:

‘if you are made of thorns my dear,
then i will be your flower petals—’
—  and together we shall become a rose | m.a.w
45. “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

A/N: I don’t know what happened– I went to save the ask as a draft and it disappeared. So sorry, I do not know who requested this! Please comment and let me know. I found it! @mazikeen Thank you for the prompt! A/N2: Another drabble! I hope you like it. :)


For a moment, Thranduil looked fierce, a wild thing protecting his territory.  It was the dead of night, and his door sidled open, softly, but Thranduil’s keen hearing detected the sound.

Ready to expel the bold intruder who dared to enter his rooms unbidden, Thranduil stole out of his bed and into the shadows, shrugging into a robe as he did. Peering across the darkened room, he saw a slender figure and gasped, recognition slackening his scowl–

“Legolas?” Thranduil asked, as he stepped into the swath of moonlight on the floor.

Legolas started in surprise, then hurried towards him, his eyes round and worried.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” Thranduil asked. There was no good reason his son should be awake now, and so he frowned as Legolas raced across the room.

“Ada,” Legolas said with a fraught expression, and launched himself at his father, clasping him tightly.  

Thranduil was stunned, but bent to encircle his son in his arms, holding his beloved child close.  Legolas made little gasping noises, burying his nose into his middle, and Thranduil realized he was crying, though trying very hard not to.

It pained him some to discover that his son felt he should hide his feelings from him.  Even a few years ago this wouldn’t have been true.  Legolas’s happy and inquisitive nature overrode any shame he might feel, but nothing could change the fact that his elfling was growing up.

Somewhere in the transition from child to adolescent, Legolas had learned to be self conscious of his emotions. Joy still shone through– the child couldn’t help his nature– like sunshine bursting free of the clouds, but in learning discipline and order, he thought to stifle his other feelings.

From watching me, Thranduil thought. He felt sorrow for it, but he knew no other way for a king to be.

Thranduil’s astonishment at his son’s outburst, yielded to concern. What monsters had hurt his little leaf? Thranduil would slay them all. “What is it, ion-nin?” he asked, smoothing his hand over Legolas’s scalp, resting at the base of his neck.

“I am sorry,” Legolas whimpered.  “It is very childish and stupid, my lord, but I cannot help it.”

Thranduil’s heart hurt to hear Legolas addressing him formally, to show respect and put distance between them that propriety dictated.

Legolas was at that age between childhood and young adulthood. He strove everyday to act grown up, yet was still a child.  It was very important that he be taken seriously, and he would be wounded if Thranduil dismissed his feelings.

“It must not be either of those things to upset you so,” Thranduil replied. “Tell me. I will not ridicule.”  He pulled back enough to crouch at Legolas’s feet to better see his face, and held in his surprise when he realized how tall his son had grown. In another year or two, he would be too big for such a gesture.

“I had a nightmare about you,” Legolas whispered, “and I just wanted to make sure you are okay.”

“What did you dream about?” Thranduil asked.

Legolas was quiet for a long moment, only shaking his head as he gathered his thoughts. Thranduil waited as patiently as he could for his son to speak.

“I dreamed I was in the woods, playing,” Legolas said, then frowned. “No, not playing– on patrol.”

Legolas was too young to go on patrol. It would be another twenty years before he reached the age of maturity, but Thranduil did not interrupt him with that fact.  

“You were on patrol, and then what?” Thranduil prompted.

“There was a stag and I followed him, chasing and laughing with the other elves. We ran through the woods, hardly noticing when it got darker,” Legolas said, “but it did.”

“I didn’t see the pit and I fell down and down impossibly long until the sky was ash and the air thick and I landed in mud. I was surrounded on all sides by muck and swamp. I saw the stag, his great antlers protruding from the mire. He was sinking. I lumbered towards him but was weighted down by the mud, water, and marsh plants. I couldn’t reach him in time. He sank under.

“When I got closer–,” Legolas’s voice choked off. Emotion warred across his face as he struggled to remain composed, but ultimately Legolas lost to it, his brow creasing in anguish as he heaved a sob.

“He’s you– the stag is you. You’re floating under the water. And I can’t– I can’t reach you– my hands are bound, held back by the weeds, my feet rooted by the mud– and you’re under the water– I can see you, but I can’t touch you. And you’re sinking, and so still, and floating away from me and I can’t– I can’t–.”

Thranduil threw his arms around him and pulled Legolas close. “Shhh, it’s alright,” Thranduil soothed. “You have me now, my love.”

Legolas wept openly, wailing dolefully into Thranduil’s neck.  The king swayed his child tenderly, trying to soothe his anguished heart with a strong embrace and gentle reassurances.

Legolas’s dream summoned images from his own memories.

The Dead Marshes, Thranduil thought and went still. Dagorlad.  

Elven history was part of Legolas’s lessons, and the young prince was just beginning to realize his father’s part in it.  It had been amusing when Legolas realized just how old his father was, his scant three decades of life uncomprehending of multiple millennia.

However, there was nothing amusing about this.

The battle of Dagorlad marked one of the most harrowing times in his long life. Thranduil could not think on it without feeling intense pain in his heart. The knowledge of this history should have been imparted on Legolas with great care, if not for his own young mind, but out of respect for Thranduil.

How Legolas learned about this without my consent, I do not know, Thranduil thought. There are more pressing concerns at the moment.

Thranduil’s mind raced, but there was no time for his own grief. Legolas was distressed and needed him to be present right now.

You were dead,” Legolas whispered. “I was too late. I was useless.”

Thranduil sat back on his heels, pulling away only enough to look into his eyes. His son could not know these words echoed his own from thousands of years ago on that battlefield when he’d found Oropher’s body. They were destructive, and useless words themselves, with no place in Legolas’s young mind.

“You had a bad dream,” Thranduil replied. “But that is all it is. I am not dead, nor are you too late, nor are you useless.”

It was obvious anxiety caused Legolas’s dream, his young mind reeling from what he had learned, the horror of it too much to process.

“I do not know what I would do if– if I lost you, too,” Legolas said through his tears, and he heaved an ugly sob into his arm.

Thranduil felt his own sentiment rise up, tightening his throat, but he swallowed it down, focusing on the fierce love he had for this little elf.

“You will not lose me, my love,” Thranduil said, rubbing up and down his arms, trying to comfort his son, but his words had the opposite effect.

“You cannot promise!” Legolas cried, yanking his arms free. “Nana died. Your ada died. I read about it in the book! What could stop you from dying next?”

Ah, my little scholar is reading ahead of his lessons, Thranduil thought. When Legolas was curious about something, he could be as persistent as a dog with a bone. Perhaps Legolas had thought reading about war would prepare him to be a soldier. Lately, he had been very interested in what grown ups do. Thranduil would have to remember to ask him about it later.

The Dead Marshes were macabre even to the most dauntless of soldiers, let alone a child with a vivid imagination. Corpses drifted in the murky water, anchored by rotting weeds that sprouted up like gnarled hands to tether the bodies an easy length from the surface, taunting the living with failure and loss. Despair dwelled in that moor, its legacy of sorrow bequeathed to all who had looked upon it.

Thranduil had many sleepless nights after he had returned from the Dead Marshes on a fool’s errand to see if Oropher floated among the disturbed bodies there. Though he had blessedly not found his father, what Thranduil had seen would haunt him for the rest of his days.

This is not the way I intended for Legolas to learn about his grandfather, Thranduil thought. I need to mend this if I can.

Thranduil remembered all too well the pain of losing his home, of losing his father, of losing his comrades, of losing his wife– so much loss in his long life, more than many elves experience.

I must banish my own bereavement from my mind, Thranduil thought. I must not dwell on my losses but instead on what I have learned from them.

“Without you, I’ll be all alone,” Legolas whispered, blue eyes round, and red-rimmed with tears.  “What would I do if you weren’t here with me?”

Thranduil took Legolas’s hands in his own, squeezing gently.  Such a stricken question from one so young, Thranduil thought. Elves were supposed to live for all time. That they did not, was the great tragedy of their kind.

“We cannot know what life will bring us,” Thranduil said. “It is okay to worry sometimes, Legolas. You are more capable than you realize, But there are some things we cannot control.  All we can do is enjoy life one day at a time, the best we can. Will you try to remember that?”

Legolas sniffled and nodded, and gasped, “I will try. But I am afraid, ada.”

“It is alright to be afraid, Legolas,” Thranduil replied. “We may lose people we love, but we will never lose the love they leave behind. As long as you remember that, you will always have me, and your naneth.”

Taking shuddering breathes, Legolas nodded, attempting to accept his father’s words.  “Nana loved me,” he said. “I know that. I remember.”

“You are dearly loved,” Thranduil replied.  “You are my heart, ion-nin.”

A smile brightened Legolas’s face. Throwing his arms around Thranduil’s neck, Legolas flung himself at his father, hugging him with all his might.  

Thranduil chuckled and held onto him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.  “One day, when you are older, I will tell you about the war,” Thranduil whispered, “but for now, slow down.  Do not rush these years.”

Legolas was a sniffling, red faced mess, gasping and wiping his wet face on his sleeve.

Resisting the urge to gather Legolas up in his arms and hold him like he had when he was toddling, Thranduil instead tugged gently at his hand.

“Come with me,” he said and guided Legolas towards his bathing chamber.

Thranduil brought a handkerchief to his face, prompting him to blow his nose. Pouring cool water into a basin he soaked a cloth and washed Legolas’s face, trying to ease some of the tension in his tiny brow.  

It had been a while since Thranduil had cared for Legolas like this. Feelings of both shame and pride rose up in him. How long it had been, but Thranduil was here for his son now when Legolas needed his father.

“How does that feel?” Thranduil asked.

“Better, ada,” Legolas replied.

“Drink all of this,” Thranduil said handing him a glass of water, and Legolas gulped it down without hesitation.  

When there was nothing more to do, Legolas looked away and fidgeted, reluctant to leave. Perhaps Legolas felt he was too old to ask, even though Thranduil could tell he wanted to, so Thranduil asked for him, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Relief flashed across Legolas’s face and he nodded with vigor, taking Thranduil’s hand in his own. Thranduil smiled and led Legolas into his room.  

Legolas hopped up onto the bed, bouncing a few times on the large mattress before settling into the side where his mother used to sleep. A smile curved Thranduil’s lips as he watched his son perform that lighthearted action, realizing Legolas was starting to feel better.

Thranduil shrugged out of his dressing gown, and laid it over the back of his chair, then climbed into the bed next to his son. No sooner had he laid down, did Legolas burrow closer to him, wriggling like a worm until he was safe in the sheltered space between Thranduil’s arm and side.

“Good night, ada,” Legolas whispered, yawning into his chest.

“Sleep well, ion-nin,” he replied.

Sleep would be difficult for both of them to come by that night. But as they lay in the bed, warmth pooling between them, Thranduil took his own advice and simply enjoyed being in the presence of his son.



If you want to request a drabble, the list is here.


Scientific Name: Aerodactylus kantoensis
Projected Natural Lifespan: Unknown
5 meters (16 feet)
59 kg (130 lbs)
Locality: Kanto (Pewter Formation), ~155 ma
Exhibit: The Hub

This rare animal comes from a far off land, the DNA of which we found (somewhat strangely) from a piece of Amber obtained by a scientist working in a local museum. Restored and cared for at our lab, our Aerodactyl is quite… odd. Grey with purple skin flaps, odd crests, and a tendency to fight other pterosaurs, we had to move it to its own personal exhibit.  

At Huxley
Our Aerodactyl, Flappy, is rambunctious. As previously mentioned he was moved to his own exhibit due to his… destructive habits. Some other interesting notes about him: His tackles can break walls, his breath is destructive, and he loves to chew on everything. 

Notable Behavior
Loves destruction and expending energy. Very friendly with its trainers and keepers.  Absolutely loves fruit. Likes to crawl in and sleep in enclosed spaces, specifically a ball shaped container our keepers gave it. 

Geneticist Notes
The small tail we found inside the amber contained DNA complete and ready to make, no modifications needed… It was very strange indeed. We don’t normally take DNA from things older than the Pleistocene, but the scientists insisted we do. 

Keeper Notes
Oh Good Lord Randal… Look, I’m just an intern. It’s April Fools day. My buddy (Randal) thought it would be funny to try to slip this past me as I type up drafts… Apparently this Isn’t a real species, an all elaborate joke that frankly I didn’t get. Thought y’all would enjoy.

anonymous asked:

things you said with no space between us w/ Matt? ❤️❤️❤️

Matt Murdock +  things you said with no space between us

a/n: oh my god i just found this in my drafts from like last summer i forgot i wrote this

@shayara @hireasummersbrother @phoenixejean @kurtwxgners @whoaheather @gcneral-organa

You’d never liked summers in the city. It was always too hot and humid and the crowd of people always bustling with tourists and making walking down the streets harder as they crowd around the shops and take pictures. But it must’ve been worse for him. He’d told you that he was hypersensitive to basically everything and what you felt must have been amplified a thousand times for him.

The only thing that could have made this short walk from his office to his apartment worse was rain. 

You and Matt had already been walking close, trying to squeeze through the thicket of people. Out of fear of losing him in the crowd, you grab a hold of his hand and continue to make your way down the sidewalk, not even thinking twice about it.

“You know you don’t have to walk me back,” he said, “I can find my own way.”

“I worry about you Matty. Just want to make sure you get home without a bruise or a cut.”

At the mention of being hurt, he feels guilty. Matt had still yet to tell you the truth of his night time activities and the reason why he was always covered in bruises, always looking like he went through a cheese grater. He’d wanted to tell you but the right moment always slipped away from his grasp, even if he’d been holding onto it with a tight fist.

You let out a breath of relief as the crowd dissipated but your good fortune lasted for all of three seconds before it began to rain.

“Just our luck,”You whisper and dig around in your bag, looking for the umbrella you kept. As you unfold it, you realize just how small it is. There would barely be enough from you, let alone both you and Matt. It was useless.

You grab his hand tight and tug him along with you, running through the rain to his apartment.

When you reach the door of his apartment, you’re both out of breath and smiling. You’re leaning against the door while he digs the keys out of his suit pocket. His fingers trace over the engraved grooves on the cool metal of each key, trying to find the right one.

“Do you want me to?”

He shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips, “I’ve got it already.”

When he opens the door and you both come bounding into the entryway, clothes soaked and sticking uncomfortably to your skin.

He makes the first move to leave the entryway. Matt makes his way silently to the living room, tugging at his tie and peeling off his suit jacket, tossing them on the couch, something he would probably regret doing later but right now all he could focus on was you. He had to tell you. It would only be a matter of time before the truth came out and he’d rather not have it end like it did with Foggy.


He can make you out standing by the window, probably staring at the billboard that you’d always been mesmerized by. Your hum is soft but he can just barely pick it up.

“What’s up, Matty?” You glance over at him, your smile quickly turning into a frown that carves deep lines around your mouth when you see his anxious expression.

“I need to tell you something.”

You stand in front of him, holding his arms and looking up at him. Your heart thrums in your chest, beating frantically and loud and god, you hated being able to hear your own heart beat. Waiting patiently for him to speak, you watch as he tries to form the words, his eyebrows knitting together and jaw clenching. “Matty, it’s okay. You can tell me anything.”

Maybe your hopes are too high, you don’t really know what you expected. A declaration of love or maybe a kiss, anything to make these goddamn butterflies in your stomach stop whenever you see your best friend.

He’s almost got the words out when he sighs and hangs his head. Matt frees himself from your grip on his arms and just wraps them around you. “I love you.”

Of course he was too scared to do it. He didn’t want to lose you too.

Your heart drops at that because you know by the tone in his voice that it’s the regular ‘I love you’ that you say to each other as friends. You continue to hold him though, not wanting to give away any disappointment. But he can tell.

“I love you too, Matty.”

He can hear the slight crack in your voice and ignores it for both your sakes. Matt just tightens his arms around you and buries his face in the crook of your neck. This was getting ridiculous and he needed to say it, to just rip it off like a band aid. Maybe tomorrow or next week. 


I just remembered I went on a date about a month ago and somehow we got onto the topic of the Cursed Child, so naturally I was ranting about how Harry saying “sometimes I wish you weren’t my son” was SO out of character and SO not what an orphaned adult Harry would ever fucking say to his son, and the girl goes, “yeah! Like, that’s totally a Draco Malfoy line or something." 

… yikessssssssss

did not go out with her again. because of that one thing? no. maybe. moral of the story is that you shouldn’t put one character down in order to bolster another, ESPECIALLY if that character is my moon-child son love of my life, Draco Malfoy. 


Sebastian to Ciel: So you are a child only when you want to be or to have your way around things. However, Young Master even if you do not want to be a child you are a child.

Someone else to Ciel: You still are a child Ciel.


anonymous asked:

Are there any fics/one shots where Levi is cold and uses Eren to warm him up? Thanks!

Hey dear! I found your ask buried somewhere in the drafts and it caught my eye! I honestly find these sorts of fics just the cutest. I did recently answer an ask about Eren sleepwalking to Levi’s bed, and whilst it’s not technically what you’re requesting, I think you’ll love those too. You can find that [HERE].

Biting Cold
Summary: Eren makes a ridiculous suggestion (that isn’t really that ridiculous) to keep Levi warm, and other things ensue.

Summary: Skin-to-skin contact is excellent for counteracting the effects of hypothermia. It’s also rather awkward. Especially when you realize that the person warming you up is your superior officer. But things can get much more awkward than that — and much more pleasurable, for that matter.

Beyond The Walls
Summary: It was Eren’s first mission with the Survey Corps, and it was supposed to be an easy one. However, the Titans never make anything easy. What was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance turns into a fight for survival when a Titan attack leaves Levi, Eren, and Jean stranded out in the woods, miles away from the Walls. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it’s the middle of winter.
     With their 3D Maneuver Gear broken beyond repair, they’ll have to overcome more than just the elements to make it back home. Namely, each other. As well as the feelings that Levi and Eren may or may not be starting to have for each other.
     One thing’s for certain: survival is going to be a bitch.