milk house

Each house as: a hot drink
  • Gryffindor: Milk coffee – a refill of energy, but with some sweetness in it, kindly gets you through the day
  • Hufflepuff: Hot chocolate – warm, comfy, with a lot of whipped cream when everything is shit
  • Ravenclaw: Tea – Multiple flavors and colors, surprisingly strong under a calm façade, best companion for a reading session
  • Slytherin: Black coffee – determined, monochrome & shiny, makes you feel kind of like a dramaqueen when you order it
The Signs as Cry Baby Lyrics

Aries - Don’t be dramatic, it’s only some plastic. No one will love you if you’re unattractive // Mrs. Potato Head

Taurus - I feel like I’m just missing something whenever you leave // Cake

Gemini - A little bit of sugar, but lots of poison, too // Milk & Cookies

Cancer - You take things so hard, and then you fall apart // Cry Baby

Leo - So what if I’m crazy? The best people are // Mad Hatter

Virgo - Everyone thinks that we’re perfect; please don’t let them look through the curtains // Dollhouse

Libra - Someone told me stay away from things that aren’t yours, but was he yours if he wanted me so bad? // Pacify Her

Scorpio - I wanna make you mine, but that’s hard to say. Is this coming off in a cheesy way? // Training Wheels

Sagittarius - I’m sick of all the games I have to play // Soap

Capricorn - You were comforting and quiet; how did love become so violent? // Teddy Bear

Aquarius - If they say to kill yourself, then you will try it. All the makeup in the world, won’t make you less insecure // Sippy Cup

Pisces - Chasing after you is like a fairytale, but I feel like I’m glued on tight to this carousel // Carousel

anonymous asked:

I feel like Jeremy heere is like the walking version of those white people cant eat spicy food memes

he can’t but michael can and sometimes when they have an argument over something petty, michael will eat a lot of spicy stuff so that when they make out jeremy Dies

because he knows jeremy can’t resist making out. he knows. jeremy’s predictable. he’s fallen right into michael’s trap. jeremy’s tearing up. there’s no milk in the house. michael has won

  • Megami: the milk is spoiled
  • Kizana: no, its not
  • Megami: yes it is.
  • Kizana: no, its not!
  • Osoro: have either of you checked it?
  • Kizana/Megami: no
  • Osoro, opening up the bottle of milk and taking a swing of it, before putting it back down: its spoiled.

@tereziweek day 4: au day

i tend toward humanstuck, so take a bloodswap 

anonymous asked:

what do u think about shrek

I generally try not to. the feelings of adoration and adulation that rise up within me when I consider his emerald visage are almost too powerful to withstand. they rend my physicality asunder. at one point in my life, it became so bad that I felt I had to go…. away…. I had to seek answers, in the spiritual places of the world…. I went to my local supermarket. there was a man there with no eyebrows. I knew at once he was a soothsayer, because when I asked him where the milk was, he pointed me to aisle 5 - which is where the milk would be housed, indeed. in the future. it was, at that time, in aisle 7. the eyebrowless man was a genius, and I knew it. I asked him; I said, “I have travelled for many moons and many suns, and then I also popped to the shops and here you are. tell me, wise one, for I sense your almighty power: how do I move on from my deep and profound attachment to that verdant creature of gritty and fertile beauty??” the soothsayer looked at me in the eye, and he said, “listen… listen… to the sound of the fridges. hear how they hum. is it not alike to a mosquito’s hum, in a swamp?” I nodded, though I was sorely confused. then he said, “listen… listen… to the sound of the wind through the pasta noodles in aisle 18. is it not alike to the sound of the wind through the grasses of a swamp?” once again, I nodded. the pasta noodles were, at that time, in aisle 7. I respected his genius. “listen…” he said, once more. “listen… to the sound of swirling, gelatinous desserts being shaken in aisle 3. is it not alike to the sound of gas bubbles rising from the fetid waters of a swamp?” I nodded, though my mind was yet clouded by uncertainty. the desserts were, at that time, in aisle 7. aisle 7 was a mess. “I don’t understand,” I said aloud. the eyebrowless man raised his above-eye-skin. “He is with us,” he said. “He is all around. He is in the fridges and the desserts and the pasta noodles. His swamp sounds live with us, always.” I fell to my knees. “where,” I said. “where did you get such wisdom? how did you corrode away the foolishness in your soul so completely that it seems as though it has been done with bleach or some shit? what happened, to make you… thus?” The eyebrowless man shook his head. “I must know,” I begged. He turned to me, with eyes like the gooseberries spilling out over the floor in aisle 7. “well,” he said. “some-”