lol i don't know where this is from

anonymous asked:

I don't get it. Why are you so nice to everyone? People online that treat you like garbage aren't going to change, but you never get angry. You never attack them. What's the point? You'll never see them. You don't know them. Why do you care so much about being nice?

What? Who treats me like that?? Lol you don’t know who’s messaging me, where they’re coming from, how old they are, what they’re going through. No one deserves mistreatment. If they come off as crass, who cares? I’m comfortable enough with myself and I am constantly boosted and supported by so many other people and messages to not really be phased by how they word their messages, and everyone deserves to be treated fairly. Respect begets respect and that’s how I’ll always try to live my life. I highly recommend it!

4
don't ask
Final Fantasy XV
don't ask

Ignis: Noct, if I may…  (´ー`)

Noctis: Don’t ask.  (; ・`д・´)

Gladio: Yep, we’re lost.  (;¬_¬)

Noctis: Don’t answer!  (;; ・`д・´)

Prompto: Don’t know where we came from. Don’t know where we’re going.  (゚∀゚ )

THE GOOD FIGHT

1.

God said to fight
the good fight,
so I fought,
and it was good.

2.

Abel, we have been
on the precipice 
of each other all
our lives.  We bruise
our tongues on each
other’s names, always
ready to light our sleeves
on fire for an offering,
always ready to spit
blood out the sides
of our mouths.

I hope someday it looks
less like gasoline when
it hits the concrete.

We shoved each other
up against walls and
called it anger, called
each other by our own
damn names, didn’t know
how to feel when we
started to answer to them.

3.

Abel, I loved you
first, and with your
blood on my hands,
I have ensured that
I also loved you last.

Let this be my
covenant to you,
my sacred vow:

When I write poems
about your body,
I swear I am talking
about your corpse.


4.

Abel, I wear your
clothes so that I
may know what
it means to be
inside you.


5.

Abel, the mark
of Cain is a bruise
sucked into my
throat.


6.

We always said we
wanted the story where
our bones were buried
side by side, back to back,
but I didn’t mean it
like this, I never wanted
to be the one doing
the burying.

Selfish, maybe,
the desire to write
the version of the story
where I got to die first,
but humor me, Abel.

In this paragraph,
you are the one who
is alive, and I am the one
rotting and making
the land more fertile.


7.

God said to make
good on my promises,
so I made promises,
and they were good.


8.

God said good riddance,
so I walked out the door,
and it was good

even if it was
goodbye.

10

in case you haven’t noticed, i’m weird. i’m a weirdo. i don’t fit in.
something is very, very wrong with me. there’s this darkness in me, that’s overwhelming sometimes and i don’t know where it comes from.

Guarded
  • ENTP's friend: I'm such a guarded person.
  • ENTP: (talking to INFP and INFJ "freely" gives away some "secrets" about self)
  • ENTP's friend: I don't know how you can just tell people your life story...
  • *later that day*
  • ENTP: (pokes INTP) Hey, remember my guarded friend?
  • INTP: Vaguely.
  • ENTP: Close enough. What do you think of how she doesn't like to reveal things about herself?
  • INTP: Well, if you don't have much to guard, you'll be that much more careful about what you reveal, right? One coin from a small storehouse is more noticeable than your ENTP warehouse of "WTF-where-did-all-this-sh*t-come-from?!".
  • ENTP: lol
  • INTP: You know it's quite amazing because people think you're being honest and social when you tell a story from your past because the level of detail and theatrics that go into the story-telling, but you really only tell 12-13% of what really happened.
  • ENTP: 12-13%?
  • INTP: Yes, and that's usually enough for people to open up to you and spill one of their valuable guarded secrets. *sigh* Humans are so easily manipulated.

iamsorrybutgay  asked:

You know any paperhat fics where Blackhat acts sweet and kind towards Flug? Or maybe where Flug has an anxiety or panic attack or something of the sort, and Blackhat is sweet and helps him out??? I need more fluff from Blackhat tbh and Flug needs love

….

uuuhhh, lemme just say-

Wrong blog to ask to.

this blog does not contain any ship of the Villainous Black Cat.inc. it is pointless to ask such thing here, because its not the primary objective of this blogs owner. we truly apologize for not being able to give you any service. now you may go to other blogs in this site named ‘tumblr’. thank you for passing by.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I know a big defense of romance novels is that they're not all about sex

And they’re definitely not! I love watching two people fall in love. I love female friendships. I love seeing people work hard to get what they want.


But there’s also something really really satisfying about reading a book where a woman enjoys sex and her partner makes sure she enjoys sex because HE wants her to enjoy sex too.

A book where a man knows what a clitoris is.

I’m typing this from my phone and my autocorrect didn’t even know what that was.

So no, romance novels aren’t all about sex, but I think it helps teach women how to enjoy sex and how to ask for what they want in bed. Which is rarely something people see.

And I just think these things are really important. And I think people who read romance novels would agree.

And she felt no fear when the ship was rocked by enemy fire, because her dad was in command, in control, and therefore everything would of course be fine. In her imagination Hux had built their ship by hand just as he’d made her. She understood that Ren had something to do with her creation, too, and imagined that a final, magical touch from him had brought everything Hux had carefully laid in place together.

The Force, and responsible science. That was where Hux said she came from.

From us, Ren said. Blood and soul.

@hollyhark‘s Kylux Daughter verse


(Link to the first set of my fanwork for the AU bc I’m in love)

8

Would you trade this war to make it so? It is some kind of hell to be forced to choose one irreplaceable thing over another.

Scrap Heap - An OUAT Ficlet

A/N: So, this little bit of silliness was inspired by David’s commentary in this week’s first sneak peek. I don’t disagree with him – Granny’s really isn’t the place for the CS wedding – but I thought he was a bit harsh in his overall assessment of the place. And I thought Granny definitely wouldn’t like it – and probably would have overheard it, with her wolf-hearing and all, and so might have tried to exact some…revenge. So. This was born – roughly 950 words of David-centric silly fic, with a touch of Captain Charming near the end. Also, it assumes that a little more time elapses between the sneak peek and when the wedding will take place than will probably happen on the show – maybe a few weeks or so. Hope you all enjoy!!


It all started so subtly that David almost didn’t notice it…at first.

-/-

His toast had been just a little bit darker than usual one morning when he’d stopped in for breakfast on his way to the station, but he’d washed down the slightly burnt aftertaste with the last of his coffee and had gone on his way with barely a second thought.

Then, the burger he’d gotten one afternoon while spending some quality bonding time with Henry had been a lot rarer than he preferred – actually, if he was being honest, it had been practically raw – but he’d just grimaced (after discreetly spitting the one bite he’d taken back into his napkin) and politely asked if it could be put it back on the grill for another couple of minutes. When the plate had been returned to the table, his burger had been perfectly cooked and he’d gone back to enjoying the afternoon with his grandson.

In hindsight, he supposed the salt he’d received in his coffee instead of sugar during an all-too-rare-in-recent-history date night with Snow – an honest mistake, the slightly frazzled waitress had pleaded – really should have been a tip-off, but at the time he’d just been too happy that his wife had not been in full on Mother-of-the-Bride mode to think too closely about anything else.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What... magic... is this? It doesn't match to any known logic we seen/know, nor the brand... What could possibly be making it... and how? I haven't seen ANY tobacco plants, plus, I don't think they would be able to grow in Snowdin... haha, snow. But in the case OF magic, they don't seem to exhibit any special properties besides a normal cigerate. Except... the bones not turning yellow. I'm not sure at all how it works. Also, what could/would even light it? Do they carry lighters? And what brand?

This is where the weed comes from [???]



Just joking lol. I don’t really know. And yes, Sans carries a lighter with him.

JaSpEr

raganne80  asked:

Prompt: “I’m not wearing that.”

For some reason this one inspired me to do kid!Clint


“I’m not wearing that.” With his arms obstinately crossed, Clint set his jaw in a stubborn line just to be sure Jacques knew how serious he was. 

Jacques’ brow arched and Clint’s mentor took measured steps towards him, the bright purple costume clenched in his hand. Clint stiffened as Jacques drew closer, but held his ground. Jacques could be a bastard and he wasn’t shy about raising his hand for punishment when he thought it warranted. 

But he wasn’t Phillip Jacobs. No stray backhand to the mouth for being a smart ass or sharp cuff to the back of the head for lack of focus would ever measure up to what Jacobs had put him through. Jacques thought Clint was intimidated by him because Clint let him think that. 

But Clint wasn’t afraid of Jacques, not even a little. 

Jacques’ hand settled heavily on the curve between Clint’s shoulder and neck, fingers tightening until the pain was there but it wasn’t debilitating. 

“You will wear this,” Jacques corrected firmly. “Or you won’t perform.” 

Clint glowered at him. 

“If you don’t perform,” Jacques went on, fingers still digging into Clint’s skin, “then the crowds will be disappointed. Then they won’t buy tickets and everyone at Carson’s will suffer for it. Do you really want to be responsible for that?” 

“You’re a bastard, Jacques,” Clint grumbled, snatching the new costume irritably out of his mentor’s hand. 

The Frenchman chuckled mockingly and patted the side of Clint’s face. Clint pulled away irritably. 

“Good boy,” Jacques mocked. 

Clint bit back the retort he wanted to fire back and stalked out of the tent. Jacques may not even be in the same league as Jacobs, but that didn’t mean Clint liked getting hit. 


“I like it.” 

Clint rolled his eyes and snatched the flashy mask out of Brit’s hands. 

“You would,” he shot back.

Brit chuckled at Clint’s expense and then softened. 

“I think you would too if you stopped to think about it.” 

Clint narrowed his eyes, meeting Brit’s gaze. 

“What do you mean?” he asked warily. 

Brit’s eyes lifted from where they were focused on Clint’s mouth and the acrobat motioned for the mask. Clint handed it over and watched warily as Brit circled behind him. He jumped when the mask suddenly settled over his eyes and frowned as Brit tied it in place. 

His friend circled back in front of him and waved a hand towards the mirror across the tent. Clint obediently stepped up to the mirror and stared at himself.

Blue gray eyes hidden beneath a flashy layer of purple and black. A block letter ‘H’ emblazoned on his forehead in bright, crisp white. 

“Behind a mask, you can be anyone you want,” Brit explained, stepping up behind him and looking at the reflection over Clint’s shoulder. 

“You mean I don’t have to be Clint anymore?” he asked quietly. He used his hands to sign the words as well, saving Brit from having to read his reflections’ lips.

Sometimes he wanted to leave Clint behind. Clint who jumped at unexpected touches. Clint who overcompensated his toughness with Jacques to prove to Jacques and himself that he wasn’t afraid of him. Clint who hated hundreds of strangers staring at him and leaving him nowhere to hide. Clint who still had nightmares about the bastard Phillip Jacobs and who childishly still wished for his parents to come back. 

Brit shrugged.

“I happen to like Clint, but if he wanted to take a break, with this mask and that costume you could become someone else for while.”

“Who?” 

Brit reached around and tapped the H on Clint’s mask. 

“I’m thinking Hawkeye is a good start, just as long as you don’t forget how amazing the kid behind the mask is.” 

Clint smirked. 

“How about The Amazing Hawkeye?”