headcanon: genji has a lot of boyfriends

Itโ€™s yesterday. I realize the glass torch from bones only exists if I let it.

FROM THE VAULT: Rik Vazquez - “The Time Traveler” (Great Plains 2015)

Performing at the Great Plains Poetry Pile-Up. Want captions on all videos? Multilingual subtitles? A nationwide Button tour? Check us out on Patreon!

Word Count: 1175

Triggers: None

A/N guess who makes a surprise appearance!

Requested by Anonymous

You met Nate when he was still in the legal business. He was Mr. Ford back then. You hadn’t seen him in a while, not since you were eleven, but you couldn’t forget a man like that. He was always trying to do the right thing, no matter what. So when you grew up and moved to Boston to get away from your nagging father, it was fitting that you ran into the one and only Mr. Ford whom you had admired for all those years.

“Mr. Ford?” He looked up at you with surprise?

“Um, I’m sorry, do I know you?” You chuckled and gave him your name, which seemed to jog his memory. “Ah! What brings you to the big city?”

“Trying to find a job, not really that successful, though,” you told him, shrugging your shoulders.

“I was just going back to this bar I know, why don’t you come with me and we can catch up?” You smiled and walked with him back to a bar called McRory’s. He got you a coffee, but you were interrupted before you could even begin. A young man came over and sat down next to Nate.

“New client?” You raised your eyebrow in confusion. Client?

“No, no Hardison, just an old friend, go see if Sophie has someone, I’m busy.”

“Oh if now’s not a good time, it’s really not that big of a deal, Mr. Ford,” you tried to back track, realizing that not everyone had the immense amount of free time you had recently found yourself with. Hardison rolled his eyes and stalked away, but again, before you could begin, you were interrupted.

“Priority client, upstairs,” a woman said as she strode quickly by the table. Nate rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, we’re not going to get anywhere down here.” You were a bit perplexed by the latest statement. “I’ll figure out what everyone is so antsy about and then we can talk, promise.” You nodded, but you were still hesitant when you followed him up a flight of stairs to an apartment. In it were five other people. You followed in behind Nate, who sat you down at the counter while he dealt with his client. He tried to talk in a hushed tone, but you could still overhear what he was saying. You tried really hard not to listen, but the harder you attempted to shut your ears off, the louder it seemed he would talk, and you eventually gave up and tried to distract yourself with something in the apartment. On one wall was a series of six TVs. Splayed across all six there were what appeared to be blue prints, and the man with long brown hair and a skinny blonde woman seemed to be arguing about something. You glanced over at Mr. Ford and saw he was completely engrossed in his conversation, so you walked over to see what the two were fighting about.

“No, Parker, you can’t go through that vent, it’s a steam vent!”

“I could, too, you just have no imagination.”

“The best way would be through the roof, no one expects the roof.”

“Actually, there’s pressure sensors on floor just inside the roof access, so you can’t do that, but you could repel down and cut the glass of one of those higher office rooms, they don’t like security very much when they’re up that high, and no one expects the inquisition from the windows.” You felt blush creep its way up your neck and into your face. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. The two who had been arguing turned to face you. The man was suddenly on the defensive.

“Who the hell are you?” You swallowed and took a step back.

“Sorry, I, don’t worry, just forget I said anything, sorry,” you tried to make it back to the counter, but Mr. Ford had stopped his conversation. You hadn’t noticed because you were too engrossed in your own plan.

“Ya know, that’s actually a pretty good plan,” the blonde woman said. Nate then escorted the client out of the apartment and closed the door behind her.

“Whatever happened to staying at the counter?” He asked you. You felt your blush deepen.

“I’m sorry, I’ll just go, I’ll be out of your hair –“ You went to leave, but he stopped you.

“How do you know so much about the security of that building?”

“My dad did some insurance thing there, he’s been trying to help me find a job, obviously he’s doing a pretty shitty job of that,” you said, trailing off, “Wait are you going to steal the NSA files that are in that office?” Mr. Ford simply stared at you. “Ok, well it’s good that we’re all on the same page here, cause you can’t just steal those files, obviously they’re a little more secure than just locked in some metal filing cabinet.”

“You’re totally cool that we’re going to steal classified government documents?” The tall man from earlier asked. What had Mr. Ford called him? Harley? Harry? Hardison? You shrugged.

“I’m sure you have you’re reasons. And if anything, I’m getting back at my dad for following me here, so it’s a win-win for everyone.”

“Then I guess I should introduce you to my team.” Mr. Ford did just that. You were right, the man from earlier was Hardison. Along with Hardison, there was Devereaux, Spencer, and…Parker. Parker was introduced with only that name, which tripped you up. You didn’t want to be rude, so you just nodded and went along with it.  

“You realize that you can call me Sophie, right? None of this Ms. Devereaux nonsense. You can call him, Eliot, and you can call him Alec, or Hardison, we all call him Hardison.” Sophie was trying to make you feel more comfortable. Nate had decided to treat everyone by taking them out to a local 24 hour diner he knew of to celebrate the success of the con. Several times you had been essential to stopping Parker from tripping a silent alarm, or Hardison from tripping in general.

“It’s just weird. What should I call Parker?”

“Just Parker. That’s all we call her. We never got another name.” You pursed your lips. You’d never met anyone whom you couldn’t call Mr. or Ms. It was just weird to you. After a minute, everyone had order and you were all swapping stories about different places that you’d looted, or things that had been stolen. Then the front door chimed open and you felt an immediate sense of dread. A man walked through the door and went straight to your table.

“Hello Nate.” Everyone froze. Nate put his hand out to stop Eliot from leaping up and strangling him.

“Sterling.” Nate’s voice was full of poison, but it was as if James Sterling hadn’t even heard what he’d said. You felt your blood run cold when you heard him say, “Hello, darling. Fancy seeing you here.” You swallowed your bite and looked up.

“Hello dad.”

The story of Hope

In May - June 2016, a vet friend and I volunteered at an amazing animal sanctuary in Namibia called N/a’an ku se. They do a lot of conservation, rehabilitation, rescuing and research with various animals. They attempt to release as many of these animals back in the wild when it is possible to do so. One animal that rarely gets released is the chacma baboon. These are considered pests in Namibia and are often shot. Many mother baboons have been killed, leaving behind orphan babies. Whenever a good samaritan discovers an orphaned baby baboon, the sanctuary takes them in and provides them with the best life they can. As volunteers, we bottle fed them, had them sleep alongside us in our beds, fed them fresh food, took them for walks around the reserve and watched them flourish into adults. Unfortunately, they cannot be released back into the wild because they are too friendly with humans which would make them extremely likely to be shot and killed by farmers. After volunteering there, I continued to follow the N/a’an ku se facebook page and have been keeping up with the story of one baboon in particular:


“Byeong Yeon-ah,

Don’t forget that if I could trust only one person in this world…

Without change, that person would still be you.”

People look at the statue of liberty and they see a proud symbol of our history as a nation of immigrants. A beacon of hope for people around the world. Donald looks at the Statue of Liberty and sees a 4.. Maybe a 5 if she loses the tablet and torch and changes her hair.
—  Hillary Clinton roast speech @ Al Smith Dinner

anonymous asked:

Okay, I love your blog, it's seriously one of my favourites, anyways could you see a fanfiction with all the Servamps turning into 5 years old as a phase for vampires and all their Eves having to take care of them?

Aw, anon, stop complimenting me, I’m blushing! Just kidding, keep being a sweetheart and making me flustered X’D Oooh, and I can totally see that, this is an amazing idea! Oh my God, I can picture so many things~ Imagine Kuro being a shy kid and hiding behind Mahiru all the time or having his Eve piggyback him around everywhere ‘cause he’s too lazy to walk (and probably falling asleep on his back). Imagine Lily being a literal sunshine of a child and super affectionate to Misono (who gets super embarrassed) and wanting to do everything together. Imagine Hyde being all clingy and bratty and annoying the crap out of Licht even more than he already does and refusing to fall asleep in the evening until Licht’s with him. Imagine Wrath trying to befriend other kids but scaring them all away with their perma-glare. (Bonus: her rescuing another kid from bullies, perhaps?) Imagine Gluttony eating everything in the pantry and then denying that it was him who ate it (bonus: he eats too much and gets a stomachache afterwards). And imagine Jeje being a really quiet child who doesn’t even talk to Mikuni, but still rolls his eyes at his man-child of an Eve. And then there’s Hugh, who doesn’t change at all… Holy smokes, I’m having way too many ideas! I’d love to see this written, anon, I’m sure it’d make a great story!


(Inktober #7)

i understand jonsa shippers who want the fall in love and all that jazz. But really people think it hard:  The political marriage is SO much better, love in got world doesnt  last.  I want both Jon and Sansa ( especially sansa) to survive. Let them have a Cat and Ned type of marriage ( the best romance on the show for me). Besides just like Cat and Ned had to overcome Ned bringing home a bastard (jon). Jon and Sansa can overcome their incesty thing, with time and peace ( and lots of children who grow up in winterfell.. One is named Thorrien).  I am happy if jon and dany fall in love because thats mean there is NO way they get married and live happily ever after. NO way . too happy. its not grrm style. 

and to people who say that the starks wont do the incesty  thing: 

“ By what right does the wolf judge the lion? “ - Jaime Lannister  

( i see as a foreshadow stark incest..but that is just me lol) 

!RP Blogs!

I want to follow more roleplay blogs - so I can start interacting more and get back to being more active. 

So please like this or reblog if you are a ROLEPLAY BLOG! I don’t mind ask blogs either, if you’re willing to send asks back and forth instead of roleplaying :3 

I’m not fussy on fandom’s (OC’S ARE MORE THAN WELCOME TOO) , but I am more familiar with the below:-

  • Junjou Romantica
  • Sekiichi Hatsukoi
  • Black Butler
  • Yuri!!! On Ice
  • Free!
  • Attack On Titan
  • Uta No Prince Sama
  • Love Stage!
  • Ten Count
  • Dangan Ronpa (season 1 mostly)
  • Steins Gate
  • Gangsta
  • Seraph Of The End
  • Voltron

There are a few more but those are the ones I can think of off the top of my head - so yeah, LETS BE FRIENDS! ^_^ 

*Spoiler-ish for season 12*

Imagine being Sam’s girlfriend and giving him the TLC he desperately deserves after the traumatic British MOL event. Like, cleaning his wounds with the most gentle touch you can muster, constantly and in a soft voice assuring him that he’s doing great even though he grits his teeth and breathes in sharply from the stinging pain. Then running him a warm bubble bath and saddling up next the tub on your knees to help clean him up, your eyes tender and your hands not going anywhere until Sam gives you the okay (and you’d even ask “are you sure?” a few times just to be safe.) I can imagine him asking you to wash his hair, something he’d always taken comfort in you doing. You’d oblige, softly directing him to tilt his head back as you fill a large cup up with fresh, warm water from the tap.

After thoroughly drenching his soft locks, you’d reach for an apple scented shampoo and squeeze a generous amount into one palm and lather up your hands, gently smoothing them through Sam’s hair to soap it up. You’d pay special attention to his scalp, softly dragging your fingernails over the parts that make Sam sigh and lean into your touch like a cat looking for attention. Sam would look at you through hooded eyes, silently thanking you with a tiny, lethargic, close-lipped smile. After rinsing his hair out, you’d both stand, you holding up a clean, fluffy white towel for him wrap around himself.

Back in your shared room, you’d pull out a fresh pair of boxers, flannel pajamas pants, and a soft, worn tee, handing them to Sam as he stands close to you, just watching in silence. You’d give him a small, reassuring smile before walking over to the dresser to grab a brush. Once dressed, you’d guide Sam to the bed, sitting him in the side and then climbing up behind him, your knees pressed up against his outer thighs as you sit back on your haunches. You’d pull the brush through his hair, gently loosening the knots until everything’s smooth.

After that, you’d lie down, opening your arms as an invitation. Sam wouldn’t hesitate, because he knows he can be vulnerable with you. He’d lie his head on your chest, listen to the steady, strong lubbdubb lubbdubb of your heartbeat and wrap his arms around your middle to hold you as close as humanly possible. His breathing would falter and at first he’d try to hide it, try to play it off, but he knows it’s pointless. He’d be grateful when you don’t say anything that indicates you noticed, instead just hugging him closer to you and running a gentle hand through his still-damp hair, the weight of it comforting and soothing.

You wouldn’t ask if he was okay, because you knows he’s not, and he’d probably just say yeah to hide the fact anyway. No, you’d just lay with him in silence, letting him use you for comfort, for the solidarity he’s looking to stand on. And while he slowly falls into state of sleep, you lie there, wide awake and staring up at the ceiling, mind reeling with the thought of inflicting the same pain to the person responsible for trying to break your reason for fighting.

Because no one messes with Sam fuckin’ Winchester and ever gets away with it.

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

While working on a research paper
  • You:listens to a ocean wave simulator
  • Me, an intellectual:listens to BTS's 21st century girl on repeat to really get those essay writing juices flowing

● petyr x sansa vs italian classic movies

The Consequences of Love [Le conseguenze dell’amore] 2004, directed by Paolo Sorrentino

There is a mysterious man who lives in an upmarket hotel. Everyday he puts on his suit, avoiding any kind of contact with people. He never talks to anyone. In that hotel’s bar, Sansa works as a waitress. Everytime she tries to speak with the man he never answers. Until one day he does.

“Every man has his own unmentionable secret.”