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Complete College Checklist!

Complete College Checklist!

I have compiled a list of all of the things you’ll need for college. Feel free to print this out and use it for your college shopping trip!

Reblog this to help others who are struggling with their college checklist!

Bed:

  • Bed sheets (2 sets)
  • Blankets
  • Body Pillow
  • Comforter
  • Mattress Foam Topper
  • Mattress Pad
  • Mattress Protector
  • Pillowcases
  • Pillows (2-3)
  • Shams

Bathroom:

  • Cup for toothbrush
  • Paper towels
  • Shower curtain
  • Shower curtain hooks
  • Shower curtain liner
  • Shower organizer
  • Trashcan
  • Toilet Paper
  • Towels
  • Towel rack (over the door)
  • Washcloths
  • Wet wipes

Room:

  • Command Hooks
  • Curtains
  • Desk lamp
  • Microwave (optional)
  • Mini-fridge (optional)
  • Rug
  • Surge protector
  • Toaster (optional)
  • Trash can

Medical:

  • Advil/Midol/Aleve/Tylenol
  • Allergy medication
  • Band aids
  • Cough drops/syrup
  • Cotton balls/rounds
  • Hydrogen Peroxide
  • Neosporin or other ointment
  • Pepto bismol
  • Rubbing alcohol

Laundry:

  • Delicates bag
  • Dryer Sheets
  • Hangers (thin hangers)
  • Laundry hamper
  • Tide Pods

Toiletries/Personal:

  • Brush/Comb
  • Conditioner
  • Deodorant
  • Eyeliner
  • Floss
  • Foundation
  • Lotion
  • Makeup organizer
  • Mouthwash
  • Pads/tampons (for the ladies)
  • Razors
  • Retainer (for those who’ve had braces)
  • Retainer case (don’t forget)
  • Shampoo
  • Shaving Cream
  • Sunscreen
  • Toothbrush
  • Toothpaste
  • Tweezers
  • Q-Tips

Clothing:

  • Bras
  • Cardigans
  • Dresses (I’m taking 3 or 4)
  • Jackets
  • Jeans
  • Leggings or yoga pants
  • Pajamas (are a MUST)
  • Panties (15-20 pairs)
  • Pants (dress pants)
  • Purse (I’m only taking one)
  • Robe (a MUST)
  • Shirts (20-25)
  • Shoes (1-5)
  • Shorts
  • Slippers
  • Socks (24 pairs)
  • Sweaters
  • Workout clothes (in case)

School Supplies:

  • Backpack
  • Binder
  • Crayons
  • Cup for pencils
  • Erasers
  • Folders
  • Folder/Letter Holder
  • Glue
  • Highlighters
  • Index cards
  • Index card holder
  • Markers
  • Mechanical pencils
  • Notebooks (8)
  • (college ruled) paper
  • Pens
  • Post-it Notes
  • Post-it Note Holder
  • Ruler
  • Scissors
  • Staples & Stapler
  • Tape & tape dispenser

Cleaning Supplies:

  • Air Freshener
  • Broom & dustpan
  • Clorox Wipes
  • Gloves
  • Mop & bucket
  • Swiffer Sweeper (optional)
  • Tiny Trash Bags (or grocery bags)
  • Toilet Bowl Brush
  • Toilet Bowl Cleaner

Other:

  • Alarm Clock
  • Car charger
  • Computer mouse
  • Flash Drive/USB/External hard drive
  • Headphones
  • Laptop
  • Laptop Charger
  • Phone
  • Phone Charger
  • Tablet

Stuff I decided to purchase:

  • Keurig 
  • Plates
  • Bowls
  • Silverware (Forks, Spoons, Knives)


If you use this list and film a dorm haul, please send the link of your video to me! Also, please link others to this checklist to help others out!

Note: If you are going to have a roommate, divide some of the cleaning supplies and bathroom items amongst each other (to avoid having multiple shower curtains/towel racks/mops etc…).

The Persuasion Show

Written by Yours Truly, ask-sadisticdark. I have promised a story at 1,000 followers, and here we are! I am ever so glad that you all decided to remain with me, a blubbering and rambling mess of a Figment. Without further ado, here we begin.

WARNING: This story details a stressful situation with mild (very mild, only mentions of blood), mocking, and vulgar. If this does not appeal to you, I urge you to not complete this story. Thank you.


The night never used to effect you.

For some points in your life, you never even noticed the change of the day. The computer screen blaring its blue light right into your eyes made it hard to realize that at some point, sunlight failed to gleam its way past your window curtains. But things change.

And your fears changed with them.

Darkiplier’s return hadn’t struck you much when it first occurred. You had been excited and enthralled by the momentum of it all, but there was no true fear. But as it was said… things change. And things changed very drastically on one particular blustering, lonely night.

You remember it vividly. It was dark, the wind was crashing like tidal waves against the panels of your house, but you paid almost no mind to it. It’s desperate warning howls against cold and bitter air never seemed to register its way into your head. You were busy, far too busy, to listen. Instead, your attentions were eagerly set upon one particular youtube channel, and to one particular youtuber, who’s smile and stubble always seemed to burn a piece of you even brighter. Every time his video started, your entire body always relaxed. Every time his voice rolled from the speakers of your computer, you were already fixated.

“Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier and welcome-”

Another horrible gurgling sound of the wind smacking against the tree branches almost drowned out the sounds of Mark speaking. But you were determined to listen, you were an avid lover of the Subnautica series, after all. It started as usual, Mark had his character standing out into the empty abyss of the sea, looking towards the horizon and blabbering his thoughts about his loneliness and plans to rebuild a base somewhere deep underwater. And you loved every second of it. You loved his goofy childish fear of the creatures bellowing from beyond. You loved his ambitions and truest, deepest, desire to learn more about the secrets hidden bellow ocean waves.

That is when everything went horribly wrong.

It was about ten minutes into the video. Mark had his Seamoth floating into the endless chasms of the trenches of the deep, darkness surrounding him, eery music screeching beneath his words. There was an abrupt beeping sound that sounded much like a computer error note, and the youtube video was cut off, glitched into place in the midst of Mark’s opening mouth.

The sudden file that abruptly popped up in the center of your screen made you jerk in your seat. Leaning back after realizing how closely you had been leaning, your eyes stared upon the digital manila envelope that sat right smack in the middle of the youtube video, innocent but very, very odd. In bold black letters beneath the folder, it read

“Read Me.”

Instead of feeling fear, you scowled in annoyance. Damn bots and their malware. You quickly clicked away from the envelope, and it brought you back to the youtube screen, where you were able to begin the video again. In just mere moments, you completely forgot all about that strange, random digital file.

Mark’s humorous statements, and the surprising calm of the wind battering the window pane, caused you to begin relaxing again. When the loud bling sound arrived for the second time, only about five minutes after deleting the first file, you almost gave a gasp in surprise. The file, in all its small digital glory, popped back up onto the midst of the computer screen, sitting patiently, quietly, unassuming. But the words bellow had changed. In that same bold font, rigid and black, it read;

“I Said Read Me.”

This one caused your attention. This one, you could feel, caused for your stomach to awkwardly flutter in a mixture of nervous curiosity. This was definitely no malware, no bot had ever sent another message after being declined with such demand. Your hand on the mouse, suddenly becoming slightly slick, slowly pulled the cursor over the file, highlighting it in preparation to click. But you hesitated.

What if this absolutely fucked up your computer? Implanted a virus or some type of device to stalk you while you slept. You had heard of the stories before, those horrible nightmarish instances where someone was kidnapped by a freak viewing them from their computer screen…. But this felt… different. Somehow, this felt… safe. You had no explanation as to why, and you rarely ever trusted your judgement. But without another pause, you tapped the file to beckon it open.

The file disappeared, and into another quick moment, a blank empty page took its place, only taking up about half of the screen in a small rectangular shape. The page, in same bolded black, only read a few words.

“Mind Or Body?”

And beneath those words were two empty boxes, one with an M beside it, and the other with a B. They were waiting to be checked.

At this point, you were beyond puzzled. What did the question even mean? Was this some sort of advertisement? It couldn’t have been, advertisements were never ones to be mysterious. They immediately wanted you to know their name and they motives. This was just… bizarre.

“Mind Or Body?”

You removed your hand from the mouse, and slowly rubbed the cold and sweating fingertips of yours across your cheeks, desperately trying to understand what it was initially asking. Was it based off attraction? Perhaps that was it… intelligence or beauty, perhaps, was the underlying cause. You had to assume so, because it certainly wasn’t giving any further clues.

Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth, scowling in an attempted concentration as a slow breath drew from you. On top of trying to discover where this file had come from, and why, you were also trying to choose between the two options.

What did it matter, really anyway? What type of strange poll was this, and how did it affect anything?

In a fit of “I don’t care”, you wiggled your cursor across the screen before randomly choosing one of the options. You think you ended up clicking on Body, but you weren’t completely sure.

The page disappeared in a silent blink, leaving the canvas of the youtube page up to its fullest colors. But despite the eagerly awaiting adventures that were going to occur in the deep, you failed to start the video again. You merely stared, blankly, unseeing of the bold red outline of the webpage. You were too intensely in thought, and too intent on finding out what that file had exactly done to the likes of your computer.

You ran a malware check, a virus check, and a few treatment diagnostics, almost certain some type of disruption surely had made its way to the database. But, the computer seemed certain that all was well, as certain as it was that it couldn’t find the source of that file, or the history of its appearance.

Satisfied, only partially, that all was well, you shrugged off the experience and assumed that whatever poll you had just taken was going to some sort of research facility, somewhere in the world. A strange, mysterious, unknown facility, but a facility nonetheless. Your hand fell upon the mouse again, and you moved your cursor across the screen in order to reopen your page again.

You only got about half way.

The entirety of your screen froze, or at least, that’s what you could determine. No matter how aggressively you swiped your mice across your desk, around in circles, back and forth, zigzagging and cursing under your breath, the white little cursor simply remained stuck right in the center of your computer screen.

“Dammit you stupid lagging piece of trash.” Your voice growled in disdain as you lifted the mouse in your hand, beginning to twist it to check and see if anything had blocked off the sensors down bellow. It was then that the familiar, horribly familiar, bling from the computer resounded in your ears again.

Your eyes lifted back towards the computer before you, and there, in the center of the computer, directly bellow the cursor with the same cream manila envelope, was another file.

“View Me.”

You were unable to move the cursor in order to hover over the words, the entirety of your screen had obviously completely crashed. So, in one last effort, you pressed your finger against your enter button. The file glitched into uneven shreds, ditching across the screen as a scratching noise, like fuzz and screeching nails, echoed in your ears for a moment or so, before all was quiet again. Calmly, a much larger rectangle assumed its place, but it was empty, and black, and a small play button sat in the center. It was a video. It began playing with you urging it to start.

The scene it faded into caused the depths of your chest to rise into your throat.

The dark concrete room was barren, lacking substantial light and seeming to be aged and worn. Deep cracks were in the floor and wall that connected together. Dark stains, mud or… blood… or whatever else… were randomly splattered against the surface. You could almost smell the musky scent it most certainly wafted.

A man sat directly in the center, head drooped lowly, the black raven tresses of his hair cascading over half of his face. The chair he sat in was large, awkwardly large, metallic and rigid and surely not comfortable. You could see that his eyes were closed, but it lacked anything that would describe that he was peaceful. His hands were stuck awkwardly behind his back, elbows protruding outward enough to make you believe his wrists were most likely bound.

“Mark…” The words barely left you, your voice was having a difficult time being used. What in the hell was this? Why were you being shown something like this? What did it mean?

You were desperately attempting to process the horrid display, when suddenly they entirety of the scene jostled and wiggled, blurring the figure in front of you. Someone was adjusting the camera pointed in Mark’s direction.

“Mmmmm….” There was a light growling sound in the depth of an unknown figure’s throat, whoever was behind the scene. Behind the camera. Behind all of this mayhem you were looking upon. There was a few more seconds of jostling and incoherent muttering, before there was a loud click, and a sound of praise.

“There we are.” The voice was rich, flowing and gentle, almost calming if any different situation was occurring. A man, burly and tall, surprisingly pale, strode into the view of the camera.

You suddenly realized just how thirsty you were. All you ever wanted, at that moment, was a tall glass of water.

Dark turned himself around in order to burn his gaze into the camera lens, staring directly into you with a smile that arched unnaturally. His arms that lay at his sides swung out, beckoning in a gesture of prideful welcome.

“Lovelies, ladies and gentleman, one… and all. I am most pleased to find you here with me. Welcome, all of you, to my first ever, official, Darkiplier episode.” Dark clapped his hands together and hugged them close to his chest, snickering and smiling in a giddy fashion.

“It took quite a bit of effort, I must admit. Days worth of planning, aggravation, sweat and tears and blood, quite literally, in order to make this possible. I set up the scene, of course, with the skills that I wield. But the final piece, the final push to truly… get this episode rolling, was something I required from you.”

Dark stood directly in front of Mark’s body, who remained unmoving, locked in some type of trance, or fretful sleep, looking like a long passed mannequin. Dark didn’t even seem to notice Mark’s existence, his entire attentions focused to the screen, and he continued talking.

“All of you received a poll, just minutes ago. The question, as I’m sure you all can recall, was ‘Mind or Body?’ Did any of you ponder what this may entail? Hmm? Did any of you suspect any ill will when you responded? Well, whatever curiosity you have faced in these last few moments, my friends, it will finally be quenched. Your responses determined the actions that will be bestowed upon my perfect little subject here with me, today. Some of you may know him from his video channel, some of you may have no recognition of him. I simply call him Mark.”

Dark stepped to the side only slightly, and twisted his shoulders to show off the shadowed figure of poor empty Mark, hanging in his seat.

“Perhaps ‘The Little Wench Who Ruined My Existence’ would suffice as a more suitable nickname, however. Don’t you agree, Mark?”

After another pause, he turned back, and jerked his hands against the hem of his vest, straining the fabric. He continued as if he hadn’t interacted with the unconscious man at all. As he did, his smile shifted, only slightly, something laying beneath his skin that grew darker, less friendly. He seemed to be staring directly into you, and you alone.

“Some of you may believe that this is for Mark alone. But you would assume incorrectly. Don’t you see? I tried to play nicely. I tried to be the wonderful, perfect Figment they all assumed me to be. But still… you doubted. Adoration turned into comfortableness. You all became fearless of me. You sought me out because you thought I was fUnnY, OR cuTE, or soMEtHING to brINg you AMUsemenT. You all believe that I am…. am incapable….. of what I KNOW…. I can do. You all believe that I am weak, pathetic, and that I am simply some… imagination. Some… tHinG. Well… I am here to remind you, Lovelies, that I am not some wandering decision. I am a concrete REALITY. And now… well… I will prove. What I. Am capable of.”


TO BE CONTINUED?


Oops! I may have not completely fulfilled my promise. Did I fail to mention I would only be providing HALF of the story at 1,000 followers? How disappointing. It must have slipped my mind.

Do you desire part two? Perhaps I will continue at 1,500. Or perhaps not. We’ll see where the wind takes me.

Letters from Verona

My attempt at finally writing a fic based off of this post

A/n: I decided to set the time of this fic back a bit - this fic takes place right before Jughead walks Betty home in Chapter 7: The Lonely Place

I’ve written and rewritten this fic so many times, and honestly it was the toughest fic I’ve ever written. I felt like I could have kept editing it forever, so I finally bit the bullet and just published it - I hope I did it justice!

It had been a long week for Betty Cooper. Polly’s disappearance had placed an unbearable weight on her heart and mind, and her mother’s media storm had done nothing to help her heightened state. Out of options and helpless to improve the situation, Betty had chosen to focus on the tasks that needed finishing. Tonight, that meant editing and revising the newest edition of the Blue & Gold. She dove into her articles until late in the night, until the vast majority of the building had emptied out and the sun had long disappeared.

“Juggie? Hey Jug? You awake?” Betty peered over at the boy, trying to determine just how soundly he was sleeping. He had dozed off on the couch while waiting for Betty to finish her work. She urged him to go home hours ago, but he refused to leave until she did, insisting that it was his duty to walk her home.

He looked so handsome laying there, curled up with an old copy of “1984″ lying open on his chest, crown beanie slightly askew. Betty couldn’t help but smile at the stillness of his body, feeling herself calm as she watched his chest rise and fall. When he was sleeping, the troubles that haunted him in his waking hours were imperceptible. He seemed so peaceful, so unhindered by all the worries of the world.

Deciding that he wasn’t going to stir anytime soon, she crossed the room and ever so delicately plucked his laptop from his desk, being careful not to make too much noise.

She pried open the laptop, its screen illuminating the darkened room. Typing in the password she had managed to decipher weeks ago, Betty searched for the familiar Word document labeled “No Title”. 

“You can’t name a novel before it’s finished,” Jughead had told her weeks ago, “The story has to be completed before it can speak to you.”

Betty smiled at the memory, recalling the conviction with which he had spoken. She loved the way he spoke about his novel, how his brow would furl when he was fighting writer’s block, or the light that sparked in his eye when he thought of the perfect turn of phrase. But he never let her read his work, so she had taken to reading it in secret, bit by bit, whenever she could. 

Browsing the list of documents, something caught Betty’s eye. A folder entitled, “Letters from Verona” had appeared under the list of recent files, one Betty had never noticed before. Curiosity got the best of her, and she opened it, selecting the most recent document.

Dear Juliet,

I am captivated by your eyes. I always have been. Those bewitching green eyes have always seen the world with such wonder, have always contained such beauty. They have always shined, a beacon of light in the darkest of times.

I cannot help but recall that moment, right before I kissed you, when I looked in your eyes. It was in your eyes that I found the courage to move forward, to bring my lips up against yours, to open myself up and let years of bottled affection pour out.

From that moment on, your eyes have been different. For years, I have looked into those eyes, and for years they have looked back. But only now do those alluring eyes begin to see. Only now does a part of you, however small, begin to feel the things I have been feeling for so long.

Now your eyes see me with wonder. They regard me with a tender affection, every glance full of care and devotion. To be the recipient of such a look is all I have desired for so long, and yet I am fearful. Fearful that, every time you peer into my eyes, you will see my soul. Fearful that you will know my truths. Fearful that such raw exposure will cause the warmth of those dazzling eyes to irreversibly cool.

This is my confession to you, tucked away in a file that I do not yet have the courage to share. A small piece of my heart that is reserved for another time. One day, I will find the strength to say these words to you out loud, to look you in those entrancing eyes and make a true proclamation. For now, I will simply continue to gaze into your eyes, hoping with each passing glance to convey all I am incapable of saying.

xx Romeo

Betty stared at the letter, reading and rereading each sentence, in awe of the confession. Unable to stop herself, she opened another document, and then another, and another. Letters of longing, confessions of unrequited pining, it all unfolded in before her, giving way to an overwhelming, unabashed affection.

She didn’t even notice she was crying until the letters on the screen began to swim. Her heart ached, the excess of emotion threatening to burst from her chest. It wasn’t that Jughead hadn’t expressed his feelings before - the passion with which he had kissed her in her bedroom was unquestionable - but these words were filled with a care and tenderness that was overwhelming.

He had written about her. He had written to her. All of her doubts about his intentions, all of her insecurities about their relationship, they had all disappeared under the persuasion of his confessions.

Wiping her eyes, Betty exited out of the documents and slowly closed the laptop shut, quietly returning it to his desk. She walked over to the sleeping boy on the couch, standing over him for a moment and taking him in. Smiling, she leaned down to wake him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He stirred, looking around with confusion before settling his eyes on her and smiling. The way in which his eyes connected to hers filled her whole body with warmth, the simple glance taking on a newer, deeper significance. In that moment, Betty knew she could spend forever looking into those eyes.

“Hey Bets,” he said softly, propping himself up on his elbows, “Is it time to go home?”

“Yeah Jug,” Betty smiled, “It’s time to go home.”

Complete College Checklist
Complete College Checklist!

I have talked to many people and done tons of searching to compile a list of all of the things you’ll need for college. My roommate and I have divided some stuff up, especially bathroom stuff. This is all the stuff we are taking to college!

Reblog this to help others who are struggling with their college checklist!

Bed:

  • Bed sheets (2 sets)
  • Blankets
  • Body Pillow
  • Comforter
  • Mattress Pad
  • Pillowcases
  • Pillows (2-3)

Bathroom:

  • Cup for toothbrushes
  • Paper towels
  • Shower curtain
  • Shower curtain hooks
  • Shower curtain liner
  • Shower organizer
  • Trashcan
  • Toilet Paper
  • Towels
  • Towel rack (over the door)
  • Washcloths

Room:

  • Command Hooks
  • Curtains
  • Desk lamp
  • Microwave
  • Mini-fridge
  • Rug
  • Surge protector
  • Toaster
  • Trash can

Medical:

  • Advil
  • Band aids
  • Cotton balls/rounds
  • Hydrogen Peroxide
  • Midol
  • Neosporin

Laundry:

  • Delicates bag
  • Hangers (thin hangers)
  • Laundry hamper
  • Tide Pods

Toiletries/Personal:

  • Brush/Comb
  • Conditioner
  • Deodorant
  • Eyeliner
  • Floss
  • Foundation
  • Lotion
  • Makeup organizer
  • Mouthwash
  • Pads/tampons (for the ladies)
  • Razors
  • Retainer (for those who’ve had braces)
  • Retainer case (don’t forget)
  • Shampoo
  • Shaving Cream
  • Sunscreen
  • Toothbrush
  • Toothpaste
  • Tweezers
  • Q-Tips

Clothing:

  • Bras
  • Dresses (I’m taking 3 or 4)
  • Jackets
  • Jeans
  • Pajamas (are a MUST)
  • Panties (15-20 pairs)
  • Pants (dress pants)
  • Purse (I’m only taking one)
  • Robe (a MUST)
  • Shirts (20-25)
  • Shoes (1-5)
  • Shorts
  • Slippers
  • Socks (24 pairs)
  • Sweaters
  • Workout clothes (in case)

School Supplies:

  • Backpack
  • Binder
  • Cup for pencils
  • Erasers
  • Folders
  • Folder/Letter Holder
  • Glue
  • Highlighters
  • Index cards
  • Markers
  • Mechanical pencils
  • Notebooks (8)
  • (college ruled) paper
  • Pens
  • Post-it Notes
  • Ruler
  • Scissors
  • Staples & Stapler
  • Tape & tape dispenser

Cleaning Supplies:

  • Air Freshener
  • Broom & dustpan
  • Clorox Wipes
  • Gloves
  • Tiny Trash Bags
  • Toilet Bowl Brush
  • Toilet Bowl Cleaner

Other:

  • Alarm Clock
  • Car charger
  • Computer mouse
  • Flash Drive/USB/External hard drive
  • Headphones
  • Laptop
  • Laptop Charger
  • Phone
  • Phone Charger

Food:

  • Cereal
  • Coke
  • Heath bars
  • Hot Cheetos
  • Tupperware Containers

My roommate and I have decided we are going to purchase our own microwave, minifridge, and toaster (instead of renting them from the University).

Please feel free to alter my list for your own personal needs.

Fellow Fanders; Need your help!

Alright Fanders so as we all have seen, Thomas made an amazing Pride video with his friends. And reading tweets and comments on it, its helped alot of pepole accept who they are, love themselves and so many wonderful things even if theyre not necessarily LGBTQIA+. Also if you follow him on twitter youve seen his mom isnt doing to well. So im looking to make a cimpilation video of video messages adn art, then a seperate folder of letters if people choose to write any. Just to help boost his spirits! If interested message me or find me on twitter at @lexi_manthey thanks lovelys!

anonymous asked:

I was wondering if you could do another one similar to 'Letters to Verona' but this time jughead catches her and sees her crying and to find out it was over the letters. :)

Thanks for the prompt nonnie!! I hope I was able to give you the ending you were hoping for. I present to you: Letters from Verona: An Alternate Ending!

Reminder that  this fic takes place right before Jughead walks Betty home in Chapter 7: The Lonely Place

——

It had been a long week for Betty Cooper. Polly’s disappearance had placed an unbearable weight on her heart and mind, and her mother’s media storm had done nothing to help her heightened state. Out of options and helpless to improve the situation, Betty had chosen to focus on the tasks that needed finishing. Tonight, that meant editing and revising the newest edition of the Blue & Gold. She dove into her articles until late in the night, until the vast majority of the building had emptied out and the sun had long disappeared.

“Juggie? Hey Jug? You awake?” Betty peered over at the boy, trying to determine just how soundly he was sleeping. He had dozed off on the couch while waiting for Betty to finish her work. She urged him to go home hours ago, but he refused to leave until she did, insisting that it was his duty to walk her home.

He looked so handsome laying there, curled up with an old copy of “1984″ lying open on his chest, crown beanie slightly askew. Betty couldn’t help but smile at the stillness of his body, feeling herself calm as she watched his chest rise and fall. When he was sleeping, the troubles that haunted him in his waking hours were imperceptible. He seemed so peaceful, so unhindered by all the worries of the world.

Deciding that he wasn’t going to stir anytime soon, she crossed the room and ever so delicately plucked his laptop from his desk, being careful not to make too much noise.

She pried open the laptop, its screen illuminating the darkened room. Typing in the password she had managed to decipher weeks ago, Betty searched for the familiar Word document labeled “No Title”.

“You can’t name a novel before it’s finished,” Jughead had told her weeks ago, “The story has to be completed before it can speak to you.”

Betty smiled at the memory, recalling the conviction with which he had spoken. She loved the way he spoke about his novel, how his brow would furl when he was fighting writer’s block, or the light that sparked in his eye when he thought of the perfect turn of phrase. But he never let her read his work, so she had taken to reading it in secret, bit by bit, whenever she could.

Browsing the list of documents, something caught Betty’s eye. A folder entitled, “Letters from Verona” had appeared under the list of recent files, one Betty had never noticed before. Curiosity got the best of her, and she opened it, selecting the most recent document.

Dear Juliet,

I am captivated by your eyes. I always have been. Those bewitching green eyes have always seen the world with such wonder, have always contained such beauty. They have always shined, a beacon of light in the darkest of times.

I cannot help but recall that moment, right before I kissed you, when I looked in your eyes. It was in your eyes that I found the courage to move forward, to bring my lips up against yours, to open myself up and let years of bottled affection pour out.

From that moment on, your eyes have been different. For years, I have looked into those eyes, and for years they have looked back. But only now do those alluring eyes begin to see. Only now does a part of you, however small, begin to feel the things I have been feeling for so long.

Now your eyes see me with wonder. They regard me with a tender affection, every glance full of care and devotion. To be the recipient of such a look is all I have desired for so long, and yet I am fearful. Fearful that, every time you peer into my eyes, you will see my soul. Fearful that you will know my truths. Fearful that such raw exposure will cause the warmth of those dazzling eyes to irreversibly cool.

This is my confession to you, tucked away in a file that I do not yet have the courage to share. A small piece of my heart that is reserved for another time. One day, I will find the strength to say these words to you out loud, to look you in those entrancing eyes and make a true proclamation. For now, I will simply continue to gaze into your eyes, hoping with each passing glance to convey all I am incapable of saying.

xx Romeo

Betty stared at the letter, reading and rereading each sentence, in awe of the confession. Unable to stop herself, she opened another document, and then another, and another. Letters of longing, confessions of unrequited pining, it all unfolded in before her, giving way to an overwhelming, unabashed affection.

She didn’t even notice she was crying until the letters on the screen began to swim. Her heart ached, the excess of emotion threatening to burst from her chest. It wasn’t that Jughead hadn’t expressed his feelings before - the passion with which he had kissed her in her bedroom was unquestionable - but these words were filled with a care and tenderness that was overwhelming.

He had written about her. He had written to her. All of her doubts about his intentions, all of her insecurities about their relationship, they had all disappeared under the persuasion of his confessions.

She was so lost in the words before her that she didn’t even notice him begin to stir.

“Betty?” He asked, his voice layered in a haze of sleepiness, “What are you doing?”

“Jughead!” Betty jumped, practically dropping the computer in surprise.

“Is that… is that my laptop?” He asked, rubbing his eyes to clear them of grogginess.

“No!” She said a bit too forcefully, her face burning crimson with guilt. “…Yes.” She admitted, eyes darting downward.

“Why are you - wait, are you okay?” Jughead’s eyes shifted from confusion to concern as he came to and registered her tear-stained cheeks. “Betty…” he began, quickly crossing over to where she sat, and reaching out to gently wipe a stray tear from her cheek. “What happened?” He looked down at the computer screen to see what had caused her such grief, and his concern was quickly overtaken with surprise. “Oh.” He faltered, neck flushing with embarrassment, “You weren’t supposed to -”

He was cut off by her lips crashing onto his, the salt of her tears mixing with her cherry lip balm and overpowering all of his senses.

“Shut up.” She begged when their lips parted, “Just shut up.” She let out a small laugh, fresh tears springing from her eyes as she kissed him once more, both hands clutching the sides of his face, the pressure with which she held increasing with each second.

She finally let go, breaking away but staying close, bringing her forehead to rest against his. Embarrassed, and quite frankly still a bit fuzzy from the kiss, Jughead opted to fiddle with her fingers instead of looking her in the eye.

“So…” He started, “How much did you read?”

“Enough.” She whispered.

“Enough?” He repeated, nervously prodding for more of a reaction.

“Enough.” Her voice was stronger now, filled with a confidence and certainty. She squeezed his hands, prompting him to raise his eyes and look at her. “Enough to know that this is real. That this is big. That you and I…” She smiled, intertwining their fingers and pressing them against his heart, “that we’re going to be okay.”

Jughead didn’t respond, but Betty could see everything she needed to in his eyes. There was something there. A flicker of hope, of light, of trust.

“Come on,” Betty said, standing and pulling him up with her, “Let’s go home.”

Community College Student Checklist

There are many people who attend a community college prior to transferring to a university. Doing this is a great way to save money and cuts down on the items needed to purchase for college. Since most people attending community college continue to reside at home, many items are not necessary to purchase. Many of the items on this list are school supplies, honestly.

  • Backpack/book bag
  • Binder
  • Calculator (check course syllabus for specifics)
  • Colored Pencils (you’d be surprised) 
  • Cup for pencils
  • Desk Organizer 
  • Dry Erase Board and Markers
  • Envelopes
  • Erasers
  • Folders
  • Folder/Letter Holder
  • Glue
  • Hole-puncher (3 hole)
  • Highlighters
  • Index cards
  • Index card holder
  • Markers
  • Mechanical pencils/wooden pencils
  • Notebooks (8)
  • [college ruled] paper
  • Paper clips
  • Pencil case for backpack/book bag
  • Pens (blue, black, and red ink)
  • Permanent Markers
  • Post-it Page tabs
  • Post-it Notes
  • Post-it Note Dispenser
  • Ruler
  • Scantrons (if your professors require you to buy your own)
  • Scissors
  • Staples & Stapler & Staple Remover
  • Tape & tape dispenser

Also, make sure to purchase these items during back to school sales and do not purchase any of these items (other than the scantrons) at the college bookstore. 

And Love?

* Thomas Jefferson × Reader
* Hamiltime
* 16: Come back to bed.
* Requested by anonymous

A/N: Two fics finished, what?! I doubt this is what anyone expected me to write but it’s what came to mind. Still, I rather like this story for having written it in about two and a half hours, which is the shortest I’ve written in a while. So, enjoy!

Word Count: 2,041

~~

It was purely accidental. Alexander Hamilton had been your escort to a ball that President Washington was holding. You and Alexander had been courting for some time now and he asked you to accompany him to the ball. He had even had a friend of his make a new dress for you.

Often during these balls, Alexander would wear his uniform from his time with the rebel army. It was a symbol of all he’d done for the country he was now helping to build. So your dress was a blue shade to match his coat.

But it was purely accidental that you bumped into Thomas Jefferson. Of course you knew who Jefferson was. Alexander complained about his “bushy hair” and “tacky suit.” Still, you found Jefferson’s hair to be a major addition to his appeal. And his suit was actually a nice contrast and compliment to his skin tone.

You had literally bumped into him. You almost fell until his arm wrapped around your waist and held you up. “Sorry about that, Darlin.’” He said with a thick southern accent. He helped you to stand up right again. “Thomas Jefferson.” He introduced and held out a hand.

“Y/N L/N.” You told him and slipped your hand in his. He lifted it to his lips and lightly kissed it. A pink blush rose to your cheeks as you pulled your hand away. He smirked at you, clearing noticing your blush. “I uh…I should get back to Alexander.” You stuttered.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hullo! Can I has some 2p Canada and 2p France fluffy headcanons please? (Not as a pair tho) thank u, love ur blog!

2p!Canada

•Cuddles a lot???

•Will give you his clothes

•"leaves his clothes" at your house

•he’ll adopt a dog with you

•he’ll throw himself on top of you and nuzzle himself into your neck

•he has very non sexual showers

•let him wash your hair

•he also likes to non-sexually wash your breasts because they’re soft and squishy and just so nice to rub.

•beast at fixing hair you watch him

•Adventure is out there bitch and you will find it riding a fucking moose


2p!Francey

•Will get matching outfits

•likes having a s/o just like him

•he’s a slut for couple Halloween costumes

•he does go all out for a loved one’s birthday

•but that’s it

•he has the best reading voice ever and it’s so soft and can put anyone to sleep instantly.

•He’ll sing you to sleep

•non-sexual showers are usually the case. He wants to just admire your body sometimes. Without feeling required to ficc it

•Will compliment you on small things

•Will write small love letters in lunchboxes or folders or even like? On phone cases?

•really late night phycology texts that sometimes end with “but that’s okay. Because I have you.”

•also texts cute paragraphs while you sleep

•Will send a dick pic to ruin the moment

Completely Updated Complete College Checklist!!

I have complied a list of all of the items someone needs to pack and bring to college if they are living in a residence hall. This list is categorized and alphabetized for your convenience.

Reblog this to help others who are struggling with their college checklist!

Bed:

  • Bed sheets (2 sets)
  • Bed Risers (optional)
  • Blankets
  • Body Pillow
  • Comforter
  • Mattress Pad
  • Pillowcases
  • Pillows (2-3)

Bathroom:

  • Cup for toothbrushes
  • Paper towels
  • Shower curtain
  • Shower curtain hooks
  • Shower curtain liner
  • Shower organizer/shower caddy
  • Trashcan
  • Toilet Paper
  • Towels
  • Towel rack (over the door)
  • Washcloths
  • Q-tips

Room:

  • Command Hooks
  • Curtains
  • Desk lamp
  • Keurig (optional)
  • Microwave (optional)
  • Mini-fridge (optional)
  • Rug
  • Surge protector
  • Toaster
  • Trash can

Medical:

  • Advil/Tylenol/Aleeve
  • Band aids
  • Cotton balls/rounds
  • Hydrogen Peroxide
  • Midol
  • Neosporin
  • Rubbing Alcohol

Laundry:

  • Delicate bag
  • Dryer Sheets
  • Hangers (thin felt or wooden hangers)
  • Laundry hamper
  • Tide Pods

Toiletries/Personal:

  • Brush/Comb
  • Conditioner
  • Deodorant
  • Eyeliner
  • Floss
  • Foundation
  • Hand Soap
  • Kleenex Tissue
  • Lotion
  • Makeup organizer
  • Mouthwash
  • Pads/tampons (for the ladies)
  • Razors
  • Retainer (for those who’ve had braces)
  • Retainer case (don’t forget)
  • Shampoo
  • Shaving Cream
  • Sunscreen
  • Toothbrush
  • Toothpaste
  • Tweezers
  • Q-Tips

Clothing:

  • Bras
  • Dresses (I’m taking 3 or 4)
  • Jackets
  • Jeans
  • Pajamas (are a MUST)
  • Panties (15-20 pairs)
  • Pants (dress pants)
  • Purse (I’m only taking one)
  • Robe (a MUST)
  • Shirts (20-25)
  • Shoes (1-5)
  • Shorts
  • Slippers
  • Socks (24 pairs)
  • Sweaters
  • Swim Suit
  • Workout clothes (in case)

School Supplies:

  • Backpack
  • Binder
  • Colored Pencils (you’d be surprised)
  • Cup for pencils
  • Desk Organizer
  • Erasers
  • Folders
  • Folder/Letter Holder
  • Glue
  • Highlighters
  • Index cards
  • Index card holder
  • Markers
  • Mechanical pencils
  • Notebooks (8)
  • (college ruled) paper
  • Pens
  • Post-it Notes
  • Post-it Note Dispenser
  • Ruler
  • Scissors
  • Staples & Stapler
  • Tape & tape dispenser

Cleaning Supplies:

  • Air Freshener
  • Broom & dustpan
  • Clorox Wipes
  • Gloves
  • Swiffer Sweeper (optional)
  • Tiny Trash Bags
  • Toilet Bowl Brush
  • Toilet Bowl Cleaner

Other:

  • Alarm Clock
  • Car charger
  • Computer mouse
  • Flash Drive/USB/External hard drive
  • Headphones
  • Laptop
  • Laptop Charger
  • Phone
  • Phone Charger

Food:

  • Cereal
  • Chips
  • Coke
  • Heath bars
  • Hot Cheetos
  • Ramen Noodles (college kids live off of these)
  • Mac and Cheese Cups
  • Tupperware Containers


If this list helped you and you decide to do a dorm haul video, send the links to me! 

Note: If you are going to have a roommate, divide some of the cleaning supplies and bathroom items amongst each other to avoid having multiple shower curtains.

‘15 Things I’ll Never Do’ by Mae West:

1. Take another woman’s man. Not intentionally, that is. Even though all’s fair in love and war and it ain’t no sin.

2. Try to be anything but myself at all time, publicly and privately, except on the stage or screen, for that’s where acting belongs.

3. Cook, bake, sew, wash dishes, peel potatoes, eat onions, or bite my nails.

4. Wear white cotton stockings or join a nudist colony

5. Like opera, number thirteen, yodelling, cold spaghetti, rats, snails, men who shave their necks, or over-ripe bananas.

6. Care for people who whistle in dressing rooms or checks that bounce as high as the stratosphere.

7. Play mother parts, sad parts, dumb parts, or a virtuous wife, betrayed or otherwise. I pity weak women, good or bad, but I can’t like them. A woman should be strong either in her goodness or badness.

8. Go nuts about classical music, sandwiches, cigar smoke, places that smell like hospitals, and black nail polish.

9. Get excited over night clubs, contract bridge, fan dancing, bobby sox, the stock market, badminton or bust developers

10. Be thrilled to death by orchids, anonymous love letters, souvenir post-card folders, earthquakes, slave bracelets, or beds with hard mattresses.

11. Be bothered by Scotch money-lenders or boys who lisp

12. Believe the worst about anybody without complete proof nor will I believe that it’s useless to struggle against so-called Fate – the phony!

13. Walk when I can sit, or sit when I can recline. I believe in saving my energy – for important things.

14. Write a story that is unsophisticated, because I believe that innocence is as innocent doesn’t.

15. Marry a man who is too handsome, a man who drinks to excess or doesn’t carry his liquor like a gentleman, a man who is easy to get, easily led into temptation – unless I do the leading.

It takes a while. I recommend you put all your letters in a folder so you can just click the Merge Folder button. If it gets too blurry for your taste, you can duplicate 4-5 times and merge down to get rid of alias. Not a perfect, timely solution, but it’ll work! Also if you want a gradient size effect, just do the Ctrl+drag.

as if we were in love~

Injured

Tikki was no fool. She had worked with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, or Ladybug, since they had graduated from the academy, and had known her even longer than that. She knew by now when the girl was hiding something from her, and Tikki was determined to find out what it was. It shouldn’t be too hard, anyway. Marinette, save for the Ladybug secret, was a terrible liar.

She had first noticed things getting strange a couple months ago. Marinette was grumpier on the job, with visible bags under her eyes and a snappy word for anyone that wasn’t Tikki. Coffee seemed to help, but she still wasn’t herself. It was odd, seeing the usually perky girl grumble and growl as she worked. Tikki would have shrugged it off to hormones, but Marinette was more of a crier than anything else in those situations. So it had to be something else.

Eventually, her attitude changed, the bags under her eyes slowly diminishing, and Tikki had been ready to chalk it up to nothing but insomnia. Marinette would smile as much as she had been, she apologized for her attitude during the past few weeks, and she even brought in cupcakes to make up for her words. Everything was back to normal.

Then they got the Chat Noir case, and everything changed.

The minute the file was handed to them, the criminal’s name plastered in thick letters across the manila folder, Marinette’s expression shifted from peaceful happiness to first shock, then wide-eyed fear. Her skin had gone pale and her hand shook as it held the folder.

Tikki couldn’t understand it. What was it about Chat Noir that had Marinette on such an edge? Surely she didn’t fear the thief. She and Tikki had been up against the murderers and psychopaths and worse; Chat Noir was a boy who wanted to make a name for himself in all the wrong ways. He just stole. There was nothing to fear from him.

So if not fear for her life, what was it about the Chat Noir case that had scared Tikki’s partner so much that she had stayed in the bathroom for the rest of the day, claiming to feel sick all of a sudden? Tikki wasn’t one for confrontations, but if it came down to it, she might be forced to demand answers from Marinette. She hadn’t thought it was getting to such a drastic point, but something was definitely up.

That night was proof enough that things might be worse than she could have ever imagined.

It had started out normal enough. Ladybug and Tikki had been patrolling the streets of Paris, chatting amiably and just about to call it a night, when the window from a building across the street shattered and two men in black hopped out, holding burlap sacks and dashing straight for the cops. Marinette’s heart just about stopped when she saw the cat ears on top of one man’s hood, and Tikki’s eyes narrowed on the bright green bowtie around the other man’s neck. Acting on instinct, Tikki pulled her gun out of her holster and cocked it, aimed straight at Chat Noir’s partner. Marinette reluctantly followed suit, shakily aiming her gun at Chat Noir’s heart. She had never felt so sick.

Tikki waited until the men were in range, then called out. “Hands up! Drop your weapons!”

Marinette watched as two pairs of green eyes looked up, wide as they saw the girls standing on the street with guns pointed at their chests. Immediately they skidded to a stop, passing a glance between each other. Chat Noir had a pistol at his hip, she knew, and she could see the flash of a knife in Chat’s partner’s hand, no sign of a gun. She didn’t think Chat would put up much of a fight, even in this situation – “I’m a lover, not a fighter, princess” – and while she wasn’t sure about the man beside him, she figured he wouldn’t be too much of a struggle once the knife was out of his hand.

A lump formed in her throat as she realized that this was it. This marked the end of Chat’s visits. This marked the end of Chat’s thievery. This marked the end of the case. Normally she would be ecstatic, eager to finish up and go home, letting justice win once more. Normally, though, she wouldn’t be face to face with fearful green eyes that could look at her like she was the world. For weeks Marinette told herself it wasn’t true, that he didn’t mean a word he said, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was. If he found out it was her all along, that his princess was the one who would arrest him… what would he say?

Her stomach twisted painfully, and she chanced a glance at Tikki, who didn’t return the look. Her bright blue eyes had locked, in a pointed glare, at Chat’s partner, as if she knew the man and couldn’t stand him (which Marinette could believe; even Tikki had a past she didn’t share).

Chat’s voice broke the silence. “My Lady, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He plastered a crooked grin onto his face and started to move his hands to his hips until Marinette cocked her gun, making them shoot back up and show his palms to the cops as if he were innocent. He was talking to Ladybug of course, having often playfully called her his Lady while discussing her with Marinette – “Not that that means anything, my princess. You’re the only girl for me, after all” – and for a moment, she was worried he had known all along who she was. But no, he wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t have come back if he did.

“You were told to drop your weapons,” she snapped, hoping he didn’t hear the tremble in her voice. “Now. Tell your partner.”

Chat’s grin dropped, and with a glance to the guns, he nodded at his partner. “Plagg, you heard the lady.”

Plagg sneered and stooped to set down the knife. Marinette tucked her gun back into her holster, reaching for her handcuffs. “Chat Noir and… Plagg, was it? You two are under arrest-”

Everything happened at once. Plagg jerked up, the knife still in his hand, and charged, hissing under his breath, “I’m not going down without a fight.” Marinette saw the flash of metal barreling towards her, a cruel grin and bright emerald eyes that were too dark and too old, and the panic that flashed through her partner’s and Chat’s eyes. She could have sworn she heard Plagg mutter “Good riddance, princess,” under his breath, but the scream ripping from Tikki’s throat drowned out any certainty. She heard a gun fire with a loud bang, the sound ringing in her ears and making her head swim; she smelled gunpowder, but the scent was soon overpowered by cigarette smoke hanging off of Plagg’s jacket. Warm, sticky blood trickled over her hands as her sight suddenly went dark, cigarette smoke suddenly giving way to fresh pine and a cologne she knew too well, a cologne that clung to her couch cushions and pillow and helped her sleep on the nights he didn’t visit. She clung to Chat, waiting for the pain to hit her, willing herself to stay conscious when it did, but it never came.

With a jerk, Marinette pulled back to see Plagg staring at his knife, covered in not her blood, but Chat’s. Her hand held the thief’s side, crimson liquid trickling between her fingers. Plagg dropped his knife, jaw working as he tried to say something to his partner. His face was pale and the sneer on his lips had disappeared as his expression shifted to shock and guilt. Without a word he bolted, disappearing into the night.

Tikki covered her mouth, her gaze, wide and filled with tears, flickering between her partner and Chat Noir. “I… I missed…”

Marinette stared at Chat, who merely gave her his signature grin and backed off, arms dropping from where he had them protectively wrapped around her and moving to grasp at his side. “Well, my Lady, i-it’s been fun, but I really must be going…”

“You… you’re hurt…” she choked, unable to believe it even when the words hung in the air. Chat, for as long as she had known him, had seemed incapable of feeling pain, and now he was there, bleeding and hunched over, yet still grinning as if to soothe her worries. Guilt churned in her chest and twisted her stomach painfully; without thinking she reached out to stop him, to look him over, just to make sure he would be okay.

He waved her off and started to hobble off after his partner, clutching his side. “It’s just a scratch.” With a wink and a grin that was more of a grimace than anything else, he added, “I’ll see you around, my Lady. Take care of yourself.”

Marinette began to stumble after him, still shaky from shock, but Tikki held her back, shaking her head. Biting her lip, Marinette settled for focusing on breathing steadily as her mind finally caught up to her.

“He saved me…” she whispered, staring at Plagg’s knife. “…why?”

Marinette couldn’t fall asleep that night, too busy pacing in her living room and worrying over the thief with gash in his side. Where would he go? Would he be alright? What if it was serious? What if he died? She would never know, she didn’t even know his name, and he could be dying and it was her fault. She should have been more careful, never should have put her gun away, should have… should have…

A rap at her window tore her attention away from her pacing. Heart racing in her chest, Marinette scrambled over to the window and shoved it open, relief seeping through her veins when she saw Chat Noir standing there, grinning just as brightly as ever.

“Well hello, princess, were you waiting-“

“Get in.” Marinette grabbed his hand and tugged him inside, shutting the window behind him. Chat could only stare, surprise replacing his smugness for a moment. Frowning, he cupped her cheek, observing her red cheeks and tear filled eyes.

“What’s happened, Marinette?” he murmured, his thumb brushing a stray tear off her cheek. “Are you hurt?”

She choked on a sob, leading him over to the sofa and gently pressing him down. “I-I… heard on the news… you got stabbed…”

It was a lie, but it was the best she could do to explain her worry and tears and fear when she shouldn’t know a thing. She could only hope he didn’t have easy access to a TV. Realization flashed in his eyes, and she could tell he was holding back his teasing – “Worried about me, princess? I didn’t know you cared” – since she was so upset. Instead, Chat wordlessly tugged off his hoodie and lifted his shirt so she could see the gash. The bleeding had stopped, luckily, and Marinette quickly grabbed her first aid kit to help him. It was the least she could do.

“T-This’ll sting..” she murmured as she cleaned out the wound. Chat was a surprisingly good patient, sitting still save for the occasional flinch or twitch, keeping quiet as he watched her work. He did hiss and look away when she sewed the skin back together, but other than that he was silent. Marinette was thankful that she at least knew what she was doing (adventures with Nino; him and his bright ideas); it wasn’t long before she was finished. Chat didn’t speak until the bandage was wrapped around his torso and she was putting away the first aid kit, his hand resting on Marinette’s shoulder.

“It’s only a scratch, Marinette. Don’t worry about me.” He cracked a smile. “I’m the bad guy, remember?”

She frowned, placing her hand over his as her eyes locked with his. “…Tonight you were a hero.”

Marinette could have sworn he blushed at that, pulling his hand away to rub the back of his neck. When the first aid kit was put away, she sat at the other end of the couch, hiding a smile as he poked her playfully with his feet. Without warning, he sat up and twisted around carefully, then laid his head on her lap. Unfamiliar heat climbed up her neck as Marinette ran her fingers through his hair, murmuring softly until his breathing evened out.

“Maybe… you’re not such a bad guy, Chat Noir.”


1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

How to create your own custom Cards Against Humanity Cards!

(Note: This guide is prettier and more organized in the Google Drive folder. I’ll also be able to update it with new info in the Drive folder, so I really recommend checking it out there, instead!  https://drive.google.com/folderview?id=0Bzip5a3UMCdTYVhZdnlSSmY3NFk&usp=sharing)

One of the great things about Cards Against Humanity is that, due to it’s Creative Commons license, it can be freely adapted. This has allowed users to make their own custom card sets online. But what if you’d like those custom online sets to be printed and fit in with your deck? Well, Here’s your guide!

Note: This is a Windows guide. Since the script is in python, theoretically it should work for Macs, but I’ve no idea how to navigate. If you’d like to make that addition to the guide, just submit it to the Tumblr!

Keep reading

@goddamndeadpool

Upon Wade’s doorstep someone had left a bag of pancake mix, underneath a folder with the words wanted alive in big red letters. Within the folder a brief summary about a mutant woman who was to be his target.

Mean while Bridget sat outside an office balcony several stories high. She was writing a new story for some company, the woman honestly didn’t care much about. “I swear what is being asked of me is stupid.”

Tongue-Tied

Anonymous said to supernatural-fics:

Hi I was wondering if you could do a shy!ReaderxDean where they can talk to Sam just fine but clams up everytime Dean comes into the room. Until one night when Dean corners them and makes them talk about it with lots of blushing. Please, I love your fics!!

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

You met the brothers only three months ago, while on a walk with your roommate. There had been three strange murders in your small town, all the victims having their hearts ripped out. It was suspicious yes, but you wondered back then why the FBI needed to be involved.

It wasn’t until you and your roommate were attacked that you learned what was lurking in the shadows. Sam and Dean, or Agents Jovi and Smith as you thought you knew them, saved you. But it was too late for your friend.

Having no family of your own, and nowhere else to go, the Winchesters took you in, teaching you about monsters. Dean kept insisting you go back home, live a life. It wasn’t until you saved him from a vampire that he stopped doubting your hunting skills or your dedication to the job.

There was no going back to your domestic fantasy. And after only two months, you realized you did in fact have a family.

The brothers were very different very different in many ways, and you learned quickly what made them tick.

Sam, the younger brother, you got along with almost immediately. He was conscious of your space and respected your introverted nature. Talking to him was like confiding in a life-long friend.

Dean was different. You were attracted to him since the day you met, which made speaking to him nearly impossible.

You were extremely shy by nature and Dean’s forward attitude and aggressive behavior made your stomach flit with butterflies and your tongue lock up. He always tried to talk to you. He cracked jokes, flirted occasionally, but it only made things worse.

“You could talk to him you know. He’s not going to bite.” You shrugged, pushing the ramen noodles in your bowl around with your fork. It was 10 o’clock at night and Sam, having discovered that you had a crush on Dean, was trying to convince you to talk to him.

“I know. It’s just… hard. I don’t think I’ve said more than five words to him. I’ve tried… but… I just get so anxious.” Sam sighed, organizing several Men of Letters folders and brushing the hair from his face.

“(Y/N), if you don’t tell him, you’ll never know whether or not he feels the same.”

As if on cue, Dean entered the main room, stretching.

“I swear, if I read one more word I’m gonna scratch my eyes out. How about you guys?” You swallowed, your entire respiratory system shutting down. Sam glanced at you warily.

“I hear you. Are you going out?” Dean smirked, slipping his coat on and winking at his brother. You thought you were going to faint.

“Yup. Just gonna get some fresh air.”

“You mean alcohol don’t you?” The elder Winchester scoffed in mock offense.

“Of course not. See ya.” And with that, he was out the door.

Sam just turned to you, giving a look of disappointment. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t give me that. You know I can’t…”

You yawned, glancing at the digital alarm clock to your left. 2 am. Sam had gone to bed hours ago, and as tired as you were, you wanted to know Dean got back safely. Part of you felt silly doing this, the Winchester was more than capable of taking care of himself. But you couldn’t sleep until he was back at the bunker. Maybe it was that you were slightly jealous of him hooking up, but you convinced yourself it was the need to protect your partner. Your family.

Your love.

You shut that thought down immediately, shaking your head and walking to the kitchen to make some coffee. Buried so far in your feelings and thoughts, you failed to notice the shadow lurking in the corner of the hall. Before you could reach the light switch at the far end of the hall, a figure pegged you against the wall, arms on either side of you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you tried to scream, before a hand clamped over your mouth.

“Don’t wake Sam.” Your eyes adjusted to the light, focusing on a familiar face. You retracted the knife you had pointed at his stomach and he took his hand off your mouth.

“D-D-D-D…”

“Dean. My name’s Dean (Y/N).” Your face grew red hot and you bit your cheek, annoyed he was being a smartass about your shyness. He waited for you to say something, but you were tongue-tied. Dean sighed, his breath hot on your face, laced with the smell of whiskey.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” You blinked, swallowing. “Because you seem to be fine talking to Sammy, but you clam up whenever I’m in view. I know you can talk (Y/N).” He was annoyed to say the least. You knew he wasn’t trying to be a bully, he was just a little hurt.

“I… You…” Dean stared at you intently, his bright green eyes seeming to read your thoughts. You felt hot and extremely uncomfortable under his gaze. You were the center of Dean Winchester’s attention. Part of you hated it. Part of you loved it.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You sighed, fidgeting and trying to melt into the wall.

“Dean… I… You’re…”

“That’s not a sentence (Y/N).” You felt tears welling up in your system. This was so hard, and there was no way to express how hard it was to the man in front of you. But you would not cry. Not now. Not when you finally had a chance to tell him how you felt.

“I… I think I… li…ke…” Your voice faltered and you bit your lip, closing your eyes. Your anxiety was peaking and you were pretty sure you would explode. But still you refused to cry, refused to let your shy nature get the best of you, like it always had.

You met Dean’s gaze again, adrenaline shooting through your veins like a hot flash.

“I love you. I love you Dean Winchester.”

Dean blinked, mouth open slightly in shock. Your breath caught in your chest and you saw your friendship flash before your eyes. You waited for the rejection or the laughter.

Dean leaned closer and your heart was on the verge of exploding. His nose brushed ever so slightly against yours, his eyes locked on yours.

“Was that really so hard?” His voice was a breathy whisper, barely registering in your mind before his hand locked behind your neck, his lips on yours.  You felt like you were flying, weightless and free. He kissed you for a couple minutes, before breaking contact.

“I like the sound of your voice.” Drunk on the taste of his lips you grabbed his collar.

“Shut up.” You could feel him smile under your lips and you couldn’t help but grin, your shyness a distant memory.

Hope you enjoyed it :)

-Cas