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On the night of the 4th of May, 1984, three teenagers stumbled across a body of a female near Westby, Wisconsin. The scene was a gruesome one. The woman’s face was bludgeoned beyond recognition. She suffered a broken jaw, a broken eye socket, and her dentures had been smashed inside her mouth. A model of her likeness could only be created after mortuary personnel reconstructed her face.

She became known as the Vernon County Jane Doe and was described as a caucasian woman between 50 and 65 years old. She had greying brown hair which was worn in a perm. She was approximately 5 feet 5 inches to 5 feet 6 inches and weighed around 150 pounds. She was wearing a black dress with a paisley print, a blue turtleneck sweater, a multicoloured coat, and nylon stockings. The labels of the clothing has been removed, presumably to prevent identification. Even more gruesome, her hands had also been chopped off. Again, this would have been to prevent identification via fingerprints.

After the case was published in local news, a couple came forward to tell police that they had seen a suspicious man climbing into the driver’s seat of a yellow Datsun at the crime scene. When they directed police to where the car was parked, they found a broken denture, blood, and a man’s watch. Despite the fact that over 4,000 leads were logged over the forthcoming years, her identity still remains unknown along with the identity of her killer.

The Bookshop That Has (Almost) Everything

fun fact this is loosely based on a real bookshop I once found somewhere in greenwich idk exactly where it is but if ever find urself around the area look out for it its v cute and v tiny

summary: Phil works at a bookshop. Dan buys a book one day, and, in a ploy to see Phil, keeps returning with more and more obscure requests so Phil has to spend more time searching. After Dan leaves with ‘cactus maintenance: a memoir’, Phil starts to suspect something’s up.

words: 7.3k


“Look,” Phil sighs when he catches sight of the book Dan’s clutching today. “I know there’s a very good chance you keep cacti and you just wanna maintain them and it’s probably wrong of me to assume otherwise, but-…can I ask you something?”

Dan gulps, putting the book titled “Cactus Maintenance: A Memoir” down on the counter.

“Do you actually need half of the books you come in here for?” he asks softly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’s a good chance you might actually ride motorcycles, study bricklaying, want to know more about frogspawn or- you know, wanna look after your cacti, but…” he shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just- um, you’re the first person I’ve met that, you know, buys one book every single day. When do you get time to read them all?”



Graveland’s Books is the kind of place you’d only come across if you were either very bored, very desperate, or very lost.

It hides on the tail end of an alleyway just behind the village market, and the gnarled wooden beams, the glass oil lanterns lining either side of the aged brickwork and the rusty bronze bell hanging above the door would fool anyone into thinking they’d just stepped out of 2016 and into the 18th century. If it wasn’t for the mobile phone shop sitting directly opposite, of course.

It’s not big in size, with a staff room and an office the size of a postage stamp upstairs and just about enough room to fit two free standing bookshelves in the middle of the shop, but books spill into every single crack. Stacks and stacks of fiction and history and travel and biographies narrow the aisles between the shelves, and it’s all too easy to trip over a random pile of books in the middle of the floor when you’re not concentrating properly.

But, for a job running along the sidelines of university, Phil enjoys it. He’d certainly rather spend his time flicking through a story about a cursed mushroom than stack supermarket shelves and deal with obnoxious co-workers, anyway.

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Healing // Lee Jeno

spinoff to this

the prompt: could you imagine healer!jeno treating you after you tripped and scraped your knee bc he wasn’t looking where he was walking (he was too immersed in a medical textbook) and bumped into you etc etc

words: 1981

category: fluff

warning: heart attack mention, blood mention

author note: war flashbacks to when my anons all attacked me with fluffy thoughts abt healer jeno. this is for you guys.

- destinee

Originally posted by markleetrashh


All his life, Jeno had been obsessed with the art of healing. The thought that a few rare plants mashed together and boiled could literally stop a person from dying was so amazing to him. When he was old enough to go to a trading school, he didn’t choose knight training like every other twelve-year-old. He chose healing.

He wanted to become someone others could look up to. Someone who could take care of others and make them feel happy and safe. So, as the only student who chose healing, he worked directly under the castle’s healer, Mr. Kim.

Mr. Kim was Jeno’s biggest inspiration. He had taken care of the king and queen, and had even delivered the crown prince. He had stopped a plague from starting by simply reversing it and having the entire kingdom drink a special blend of tea for weeks. He was amazing. Filled with knowledge of all kinds, he knew which plant you were talking about even if all you could do was give him the shape. All the information was formatted into his brain like a second instinct. Jeno wanted the knowledge of Mr. Kim.

To get this, Mr. Kim told Jeno that all he had to do was read. Read, study, and memorize until it felt like he was going to explode from all the information he was learning. Also, repetition was key. He was to be quizzed weekly on the things he had studied, all while retaining the practical information Mr. Kim had given him. For three years, Jeno had worked his hardest without giving up once. This is what he set out to do, and he was going to do it no matter how hard it got. People were depending on him.

Especially when Jeno turned sixteen, for Mr. Kim suffered a heart attack and died instantly. There was nothing to do, and no way to save him. Jeno, as the only healer left in the kingdom, was put in charge and given the title of the new castle healer.

He had no time to grieve, really. That was okay, since Jeno really didn’t want time to catch up with him and find him sobbing in a corner. Instead, he threw himself into studying even more. Any time he wasn’t helping someone, he was studying. One of his current obsessions was finding a common way to prevent sudden heart attacks. If there was a way he could make a tea blend to give to hardworking adults that would heal their hearts, he was going to find it.
He was going to use every piece of information Mr. Kim had left with him. He was going to make his old mentor proud.

Jeno was lonely sometimes. His parents lived far away in the village, and he didn’t see them as often as he would’ve liked to. He had friends, a group of boys ranging in the highest rank of a prince to the lowest rank of a servant. There were seven of them, all loyal to each other as friends. Prince Jaemin was perhaps Jeno’s closest friend. The prince himself was lonely, as many people heard the rumors of him leaving a mysterious lover behind in the village.

Jeno and Jaemin leaned on each other a lot during their eighteenth year. Jaemin came to the Jeno’s clinic to escape the realities of royalty, and Jeno was able to study for a while as the prince labeled vials and stocked shelves.

Jeno never stopped studying. He never stopped finding new ways to invent news potions and pastes in an attempt to make his own medicine for heart attacks. So far, he had only succeeded in accidentally turning his tongue purple. How that happened, he had no idea. Still, he kept working towards his ultimate goal. This usually meant he could be found walking around the castle, his nose in a book filled with medical terminologies not even the king could understand.


You were a lady-in-waiting with a restless heart. Your mother wanted you to be the future queen, so you were never allowed outside of the castle. You were barely allowed in the courtyards, to be honest. With all of your lessons and fittings, you had no time to go off and do your own thing like the people you always read about.

Adventure novels were your favorites. Stories of men and women who refused to let anyone boss them around. Instead, they broke away from the norm and went off to fight battles much bigger than themselves. You wished to become one of those people. As soon as you were eighteen, you were going to move to the village without a word to your mother. You were going to live life without expectations and duties. Perhaps you would become a fishermen, or a shop owner. Perhaps you would go back to school and become a knight.

It was the weekend, and your mother had slept in. That was how you found yourself prancing around the court barefoot, your hair unbrushed and looking anything but ladylike. You greeted all of the officials and servants with happy greetings as you danced by, feeling the freedom that the wind offered you. You weren’t paying attention to anyone, which was perhaps the reason you were bumped into from behind. You were pushed to the floor, a stinging pain creeping up your legs as your knees hit the stone ground.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I was reading and I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

You pushed yourself into a sitting position and looked at the person who had pushed you. Suddenly, it was as if the wind had been knocked from your lungs. He was handsome. Not quite in the way the prince was, with playful glances and bouncy steps. No, this was a softer type of beautiful, and you found yourself liking it so much more.

He offered you a hand, which you took, stumbling a bit. You then pulled up your skirts and looked at down to see blood running down your legs slowly. “Well that can’t be good…” you said casually.

The boy let out a laugh at your unbothered voice. He simply gestured for you to put your skirts down. “Follow me. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

You followed, not quite sure who this strange boy was. Nevertheless, when he smiled at you, you felt he could be trusted. “Who are you anyways?”

“Oh, I’m Jeno.” He offered his arm to you, since you were struggling to walk. “I’m the castle’s healer.”

“Really? I thought it was a man named Mr. Kim.”

“It was.” Jeno scratched the back of his neck nervously as the two of you walked towards his clinic. “He passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, patting his arm in consolation. “That must’ve been hard on you.”

“It was, but over the years it’s gotten better.” Jeno pulled you into his clinic, toward the small bed nestled behind a heavy curtain. It was the bed Jeno had slept in for years, but it also served as the only bed in the clinic. If there was a patient, Jeno slept on the floor. He helped you sit on the bed, since it hurt to use your legs. “I’m still so sorry about this.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled at him. “It was an accident.” You lifted your skirts above your knees, and Jeno looked away, his cheeks slightly pink.

“Then, I’ll go get some paste that’ll close it up in no time. How does that sound?” Jeno offered you a shy glance.

“Sounds great,” you said. “However, you should hurry. Once my mother finds out that I snuck out, she’ll kill me.”

“Are you a lady-in-waiting?” Jeno looked surprised. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

“I’m usually busy with lessons, and my mother doesn’t like it when I go around the courtyards. She says it’ll give me ideas.”

“What ideas?” Jeno asked as he searched through the many shelves lining his walls. He finally extracted a jar of light green paste. “Here it is!”

“You know, she wants me to marry the prince. I don’t want to marry him. The usual lady-in -waiting drama.”

“You shouldn’t have to marry someone you don’t want to. Besides, Jaemin doesn’t want a lady-in-waiting.”

“Tell my mom that,” you said.

He bent down in front of you and extracted some paste using a wooden tongue depressor. “By the way, this might hurt so I’m sorry if it stings. It’s the skin pulling itself together.”

You nodded and braced your hands on his shoulders as he spread the paste across your wounded knees. The pain hurt just as bad as the actual scrape, and you felt tears sting the corner of your eyes. “Why does it hurt so bad?” you hissed.

Jeno grimaced. “I need to work in the formula, don’t I? It works, though. Also, when is the last time your trimmed your nails? Because the depth they are reaching in my skin is amazing.”

You released your grip. “Sorry. Although, it’s your fault for making such a painful remedy.”

“You can hold my other hand,” Jeno offered, reaching his hand toward you.

You took it without complaint, squeezing it as he applied the paste to the other knee. He apologized again, feeling his hand lose circulation from how tightly you were squeezing it.

“It’s okay,” you squeaked. “I’m not good with pain in the first place so maybe your paste isn’t so bad.”

“Oh, your pain tolerance is low.” Jeno frowned, “I should make a pill for that. Maybe a little taffy that will give you a better pain tolerance.”

“Maybe you should,” you agreed as he brought out a roll bandages and began to wrap it around your knees.

“By tomorrow morning, there won’t even be a scar,” he said, proudly pinning the bandages in place.

“Thanks,” you said. “I should be able to hide it from my mom until then. So, I don’t need to return for a checkup?”

Jeno looked down, a soft smile on his lips. “No. But you’re always free to come back and see me if you want. You know, the prince comes here to get away from his responsibilities. I wouldn’t mind it if you did as well.”

Your blush matched his as you climbed off the table. “I might just have to take you up on that offer, Jeno. Now, what do I pay you?”

“Hmm?” Jeno was too absorbed in the excitement of you returning, that he almost hadn’t heard your question. “Oh! No need to pay me!”

You frowned. “Well, I shouldn’t get healing for free. How about this?”

“How about wha—” Jeno stopped mid-sentence as you leaned forward and planted a kiss on his left cheek. “—Oh, yeah, that type of payment is okay, I suppose.”

You giggled. “I thought it would be. I’ll try to come by tomorrow and you can tell me about all those weird terms in your book.”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about those,” he said.

“I do,” you insisted. “Trust me. I want to learn more about you and what goes on in your head.”


“Why do you sound so surprised?”

Jeno shrugged, “No one really cares about my studies. They all ignore me and say I should’ve been a knight.”

“If you had become a knight, who would’ve taken care of me?” you asked innocently.

Jeno smiled. “You’re right.”

“Keep working hard, Jeno. I believe in you. I’ll bring lunch tomorrow so don’t eat too much beforehand, okay?” You began to leave, satisfied with his short nod.

“Wait!” he stopped you.

When you turned to face him, he smiled brightly, his eyes turning into crescents. “Is it like a date?”

You looked down bashfully, “Yeah. It’s a date.”

~the end~

People are asking: in the Netflix series The OA, is she lying about her story?

Absolutely she’s lying, because her borscht makes no fucking sense

Pictured: a soup that looks like it’s been made with golden beets with whole golden beets and chopped (not shredded or grated???) normal beets on the cutting board. To serve she ripped some bits of parsley (didn’t even bother to chop them??) and NO DILL OR SOUR CREAM to put on top before giving it to Hap. There’s also no see or mention of cabbage, which is suspicious.

Later she claims she put sour cream in it (the soup would curdle it if it had been cooking in the pot with sour cream) and it turns out Hap is allergic to the soup because, from reading the label of the vegetable stock (again, borscht is typically made from meat and needs no premade stock) says “this vegetable stock has tomatoes in it. I’m allergic to tomato.” This doesn’t make sense because you would fry the beets in tomato paste on the stove beforehand, it wouldn’t be in the can of stock (maybe? still very strange).

Conclusion: Either OA is lying about her Russian childhood or her oligarch dad did not know how to cook at all when he taught it to her

So in last night’s dream I gave birth to a baby-sized monster that looked like a mix between gollum and a maggot and everyone kept insisting that I had to get rid of it but no I loved my sticky terrifying child and was determined to keep it


April has been nothing but a steaming shit sandwich fresh out of satan’s deep fryer but I managed to snap a few this week out of sheer spite anyway

1. For my orchid hags. If these make it out of their hospital stay intact, I’ll assume stewardship and follow Lena’s lead and name them, except instead of Please or Thank You it’ll be Petulant Indignation or Furious Insistence or similar

2. The limoncello is finally done and it came out perfect, and in my head an ancient italian strega from the amalfi coast in a floral-print apron who’s been making her own aperitifs/digestifs for 60 years is nodding at me with warm approval, even though I used store-bought vodka instead of grain alcohol and steeped for 4 weeks instead of 40 or 80 days or whatever. I had to use weatherproof vinyl label stock for these since they’ll be stored in the freezer so here’s hoping that shit holds up ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

3-6. Pretty spectacular atmospheric drama

That’s all, have a pleasant evening

neonmiracles-deactivated2017081  asked:

Guzma's s/o dealing with their first holiday season together and with the team too? (christmas or whatever they celebrate <3) happy holidays!!!

aw yes so festive :) happy holidays!!

guzma’s s/o would be a little overwhelmed at the prospect of christmas in the po town because normally a few festive grunts will drape tinsel around the shady house and on christmas day home alone will always be playing but that’s it

but during the year guzma’s s/o has absolutely fallen in love with all of the grunts and just wants to take care of them (plus they’re all so sweet they deserve an amazing christmas)

so this year in early december all the grunts wake up one morning and the house is completely decorated–lights, tinsel, everything

there’s even a tree, but it’s not decorated, there’s just boxes of ornaments laying around it

all the grunts rush downstairs to see the s/o smiling “well, aren’t you going to help me decorate the tree?” and they all pile in, rushing back up to get little things from their rooms to stack on and tussling over who gets to put which ornament where

and guzma rolls out of bed late and walks into the main area to see all the grunts giggling and decorating and his s/o sitting there and smiling with a bit of tinsel in their hair 

and he sits down next to them and slips an arm around their waist “thank you,” he says gruffly but uncharacteristically soft, pressing a kiss to their temple

his s/o looks up and smiles “anything for my family” and that hits guzma so hard and he can’t do anything but lean and kiss them so passionately that they only stop when the grunts start whistling and catcalling

s/o ropes guzma into helping them out, so on christmas morning all the grunts wake up to see a neatly labeled stocking for each of them lining the entire shady house

inside each of them are little gifts picked for each individual grunt, so perfect that they all know whose stocking is whose (even though they all said grunt)

and guzma and s/o don’t come out of their room until MUCH later 

a grunt went to check on them and found them fast asleep, curled around each other, and just decided to let them be–they must be exhausted

Major Distraction

Bakushima college AU fic request!

Thanks to @turtleangel94 for requesting this!! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you like it!

Sorry it took so long but it turned out a lot longer than expected;)

Word Count: 2277

Keep reading

6 ways Tumblr might be killing your writing

Tumblr is… a very ambiguous place. It’s a nice platform for enjoying fandoms, sharing art and getting in touch with readers. But it’s also soul consuming in many ways. Here are 6 ways Tumblr might be getting in your way.

1. Time consuming:

It’s important to realize how much time you are investing daily on Tumblr. Tomorrow, keep a piece of paper by your computer. Every time you open and close tumblr, write down what time it is (some browsers do that for you). At the end of the day, count how many minutes you invested here. Cut it down to half.

Originally posted by manneliesemedia

2. Ideas consuming:

I see a very rigid set of ideas that tumblr bloggers must follow. You must be pro that, and pro this. You must hate that and hate this. You must reblog that (or you are heartless) and reblog this. You must group up and attack someone for their unpopular opinion. You must. You must. You must. In order to be accepted by the group, most bloggers kill their own beliefs to adopt Tumblr set of ideas as absolute truth. My advice is: Question. Writing is questioning. Question everything. Don’t simply accept what social justice bloggers are saying. Read. Read a lot. Read different points of view on a certain subject. Don’t simply accept. Tumblr is not the holder of truth. Don’t let this site brainwash you; be willing to think against the trend.

Originally posted by the-wishkah

3. Self-confidence consuming:

Many many blogs revolve around depression and looking down on self-image. Being constantly exposed to this wave of though can put not only you down, but also your writing, flow and creativity. Be careful of who you follow.

Originally posted by maryjosez

4. Inspiration consuming:

Being the fandom paradise that Tumblr is, of course you’ll find Avengers everywhere, and Supernatural, and Harry Potter, and Free!, and Sherlock, and Teen Wolf everywhere… scrolling down to hundreds of photos, arts and fanfics of a specific fandom can sort of detach you from your real inspiration and what you love to create. Instead, you create stories that resemble the fandom you are in. This is important specially when starting a new story. Being neutral is important. Stay away from Tumblr a few days. Really. Stay away. Take a walk at a park. Or just find a new place to write. Let all the hype of fandoms go away. Only then you can touch your inspiration fully.

Originally posted by lucifers-main

5. Work consuming:

Many writers invest hours getting followers in an attempt of creating a fan base. The problem is… Tumblr folks are not avid book readers. Tumblr people are avid fanfic readers. The majority of the site is under 20. This fandom focused platform is not interested in discovering new things, but enjoying what they already know. Of course, you can always get sells from Tumblr, but not as much as you’d like. Having 100 followers or 10000 followers doesn’t help you much when people of a certain community aren’t interested in buying (I will post about selling your book in a fun and efficient way, more on that later). So, keep your Tumblr blog if you want to have fun, not as an obligation.

Originally posted by huffingtonpost

6. Reality consuming:

Finally, the labels. Before joining Tumblr in 2010, I had a more fluid view on humans. But I was exposed to the world of labels. Here, everything is labeled. People keep all their labels stocked in their profile like prizes to show off. I’m from race x, from gender x, who was a x in past life, triggered by x, and identify as a x. This might work on Tumblr, but not outside it. Labels are not that clear in real life and, for that matter, in writing. Creating characters using labels will make them shallow. People are not their race, they are not their gender and they are definitely not their nationality. Identity goes much deeper than that.

Originally posted by topielnica

I don’t mean you should quit Tumblr. Not at all. Just be careful on these invisible treats that may be holding your creativity down. Not only your creativity, but you as human.

So, yeah, I hope this helps you somehow.

The Night Before Christmas

A.N: I kinda suck at rhyming so timing’s a bit off. But you try rhyming something with bunker!

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when  all through the bunker

Not a creature was stirring, Dean couldn’t be drunker.

The guns were hung on the walls with care,

In hopes that no demon would find them there.

The hunters were nestled, all snug in their beds,

While visions of loved ones danced in their heads.

And Castiel in his trenchcoat, that silly chap,

Had just settled his wings for a long winter’s nap.

When outside the bunker, there arose such a clatter,

You sprang from your bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window, you flew like a flash, tore open the shutters to find who made the crash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,

When what to your wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,

With a strange looking driver, so lively and quick,

You knew in a moment, it was Gabriel, playing a trick.

More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came.

He whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

“Now Michael, now Balthazar, now Lucifer and Samandriel!

On Gadreel, on Metatron, on Naomi and Raphael!

To the top of the roof! To the top of the wall, now fly away, fly away, fly away all!”

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the bunker the coursers they flew

With the sleigh full of gifts, and an archangel too—

And then, in a twinkling, you heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As you drew in your head, and were turning around,

Down the chimney Gabriel came with a bound.

He was dressed all in red fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of gifts he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.

His gold eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!

His wings were so golden, (feathered,  not like a faerie).

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the fake beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The brothers ran in, you could tell they weren’t happy,

To say the least, their relationship was crappy.

Dean was wondering if he’d had to much beer,

But Gabe soon explained, he’d come to spread cheer!

His costume was silly, he looked like an elf.

You laughed when you saw him, in spite of yourself.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave you to know you had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

Summoned some stockings labeled “Y/N”, “Bitch” and “Jerk”

Cas sent a fist to the side of Gabe’s nose,

Before he noticed the presents, all wrapped up in bows.

You chatted for a bit, asked if Gabriel could stay,

The Winchesters gave in, you could have it your way.

They trudged back to bed, to tired to fight.

“Merry Christmas to all” Gabe laughed. “And to all a good night!”

anonymous asked:

(CW: acephobia?) Imagine asexual!Bucky. People tell him he's confused and that it's a result of the trauma, but he's always been like this -- he just didn't find a word for it until the 21st century.

It’s not that he hasn’t tried; Bucky’s gone out with his share of beautiful girls and a handful of good-looking fellas. It’s just that nothing ever clicked. For a while, he thought it was just that he was waiting for the perfect someone. But he always figured, if even Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter don’t do it for him, it’s probably just that he’s not interested in general.

When Tony asks if he’s into any of the Avengers and Bucky says he’s not into anyone, he laughs and claps him on the shoulder and tells him that the HYDRA brainwashing must have gone pretty deep, which hurts in some deep, inexplicable way. Clint’s reassurance that even if he’s not into any of them, there’s a plenty big world out there and there’s bound to be someone rankles a little bit more. He doesn’t want a specific someone - it’s kind of the point! But when he tries to correct them, Tony just smiles and says, “Don’t worry, Barnes, you’ll come around sooner or later. Everyone loves me,” and even if it’s a joke more at his own expense rather than Bucky’s, it hurts enough that he stops trying to explain anything.

Steve supports him, of course; he’s known Bucky long enough to know that it wasn’t just Bucky being picky or waiting for someone special. But Steve’s got plenty of catching up to do before he’s an expert on anything twenty-first century, and neither of them are sure what to google to find words to put to it.

Natasha shrugs and tells Bucky that sex is complicated and she doesn’t put much stock in labels. Bruce says, “Maybe you just need time,” in a gentle, kind voice, and that almost hurts worse than Tony’s crack, but he follows it up with, “or maybe you don’t, and that’s all right,” and it’s the first time Bucky’s felt accepted by anyone other than Steve. They sit in companionable silence for a while, and Bucky feels just a little bit more comfortable around Bruce than he did the day before. It gets better when Sam comes over for a movie night.

“Oh, that?” Sam says, leaning back further into the couch and staring at the ceiling for a moment. “Nah, it’s not that weird. Some people just aren’t into other people.”

“Is there a word for it?”

“Yeah. Asexual. There’s aromantic, too, which is where you’re not really into romance with other people, basically. Dunno if that’s you or not. Natasha’s right about sex being complicated.”

And Bucky grins and snuggles in closer to Sam, and Steve on Sam’s other side reaches around to ruffle Bucky’s hair and says, “There you go, Buck. You got a name for it and everything.” Maybe Natasha is right about sex being complicated, but it doesn’t matter. For the first time ever, Bucky has a word for it, and he feels just a little bit less isolated.

“Okay,” he says, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder. “So I’m asexual. Not too sure about the romantic thing, just yet. Guess I’ll have to figure that out as I go along.” At least now he’s not alone, and it doesn’t seem quite so daunting.

anonymous asked:

Deeply Sad Hank : “nothing matters anymore to me.” S/O trying to fix it : “i said i love you.” , “i haven’t forgotten you yet.” -WL

It seemed like Hank had completely given up. His latest foray into the depth of mutant DNA hadn’t gone to plan and as a result months if not years of work had quite literally gone up in smoke. Not only had most of the mutants in the mansion been avoiding him this past week but fellow scientists had gotten wind of his blunder and he was being labelled the biggest laughing stock in modern science. 

“nothing matters to me anymore…” he croaked sinking into his chair, hands over his face as he gripped the front of his hair tugging it. Crouching down in front of him, you reached out to place your hands on his knees, rubbing soothing strokes up and down trying to calm him down. 

“I haven’t forgotten you yet” you smiled up at him, catching his eyes, they were pooling at the bottoms making them look an even deeper blue you felt like you could swim in. Bringing one hand up to stroke at his cheek and caressing lightly you whispered “ I love you you know.”

“You what?” Hank stuttered, although you had been together for some time, the words had never fully made it out of either one of your mouths.

“I said I love you.” you took a deep breath as you finished, gauging his reaction to your words.

Hank said nothing as he leant forward that little bit further to join your lips together, the kiss was slow and sweet and when it was over, you barely heard over the sound of your thumping heart, Hank whisper into your mouth that he loved you too.

Hidden secrets for Costo shoppers

Avoid products with prices ending in .99 – these are full price.

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Items with prices ending in .97 are deals decided by the store manager. These won’t be around for long and can offer amazing discounts.

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Prices ending in .49 or .79 are a manufacturers special offer. These prices usually apply to products which are heaving a trial run and are usually priced cheaper than their retail price.

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Is it weird I feel like I’m part of a secret club or something?


veIf you want to be added to the Calendar, drop me an ask or a message. 

Coming into the Bunker, Dean Winchester didn’t expect to see you; you were dressed in a stupidly cheesy Christmas Jumper, the forever adorable smile on his face present, as you were carrying out large cardboard boxes, with the words ‘Christmas Decorations,’ written in your handwriting.

Your eyes were traced away from the boxes, when you heard the door to the Bunker open, and saw Dean, dressed in his dark coat and usual necklace, keeping his eyes fixed on your actions. Seeing him, you smiled and looked back to one of the many boxes, opening it and beginning to rummage.

“You just gonna stand there?” You ask jokingly. “Or are you gonna come and help me?” To this, he shakes his head, still smiling. Two warm arms encircle your waist, his head resting on your shoulder, looking into the box. You begin, by pulling out a miniature fireplace, each mini stocking labelled. 'Sam, Dean, Y/N, Castiel.’ You hum, handing him the set.

“Put it on the mantle.” Your hand points, as he follows your instructions, placing it where you had expected. However, Dean turning his back for one minute, meant trouble could be caused. When he looked back to you, a tangle of Christmas lights encircled your feet. Dean opened his mouth to say something witty, but closed it when you spoke.

“Help. Me. Out." 

Coming over, Dean began to untangle you, before you lost your footing, flailing for a moment, then falling, straight onto his chest, your lips milimeters apart. This time, Dean is the first to laugh, running one of his hands over your cheek.
"Hello there, Y/N.” He smiles.

You giggle. “Hey.”

Keep reading


★ Sticker Calendar Set ★

I’m happy to announce a new project eecks & I have been working on! : )

The Sticker Calendar pack comes with..

  • 12 individual month stickers (4"x6")
  • Side label faces for each month
  • 2 bonus self-cut sticker sheets you can use for taking notes and marking important dates on the calendar!
  • (Also comes with a small instruction sheet)

The month stickers are printed on matte label stock, and can be put on any blank notebook or sketchbook, with however many pages you’d like inbetween each month!

We made a test run and the sets will be available at Fan Expo Toronto (August 28~31) from eecks (A93) and I (A168)! (20$ / set)

Will be online after Fan Expo!