my m&ms

when black panther comes out I better get promos blown so far up my ass i can taste them. I want 4 trailers, 26 interviews, show up at the late show, put black panthers beautiful face on my pizza boxes, m&ms, doritos, you fucken name it

The Moon

the series read as follows:

SupermanMondayCheezy PouffsBaconStumblingTrail Mix …  PunchFridayPreparationUncle MudlerNormalBackseatMudler-senseThe FBIUnthinkablePatienceElephant JokesCooking Rickety TablesMr. SkimmerBert and Ernie … Midnight Confessions


There’s some stuff at the end .. fun stuff .. stuff the cat said was inappropriate for virgin eyes … I told her to go take a nap …


Frustration won.

Growling in the darkness, heart racing, mind flying, she banged the mattress with balled-up fists, “stop. I’m sorry. Can you stop?”

Mulder, having felt her getting nowhere fast and the tension building up accordingly, slowed, then stopped his fingers, burying his lips above her ear, whispering through a kiss, “can’t stop thinking, can you?” Wiggling her hips slightly, she waited for him to remove his hand before she dropped her forearm across her eyes, not daring to look at her partner in that moment, choosing dark embarrassment over honest concern. Mulder, however, wasn’t having any of it, reaching up to gently pull her arm away, “hey, it’s okay.”

Groaning now, she hauled herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet resting on bedframe, elbows on knees, head in hand, “really? Because it feels fairly annoying to me.”

1am had its good moments and 1am had its bad moments, “I’m just telling you what I think and I think that maybe you went looking to forget a little too fast.”

“Are you honestly going to psychoanalyze me in the middle of the night?”

“Nope.” He stood up, then took her hand, a little rougher than usual but feeling it necessary to get her to move, “come on.”

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disturbingclarity  asked:

can i request a pre-canon (or very early canon) fluff fest where lucien takes jean to the drive-in because it just opened in town?

1700 words of fluff

The house had been cloaked in silence and grief for the past week. Dr. Thomas Blake had passed not a week earlier and since then, Lucien had been deep in brooding thoughts–the past creeping and curling into his subconscious, whispering about missed opportunities and regret. Jean, meanwhile, had taken to crying quietly, expelling her grief and the loss of a father-figure and a kind man. 

They were two people who didn’t know each other well at all, drowning in grief and tiptoeing around the other. 

Lucien knew it needed to be put to an end. Jean’s future with him and his household was unknown but for the time being, while she comforted him during his night terrors and took care of his house, he wanted to know her, to comfort her, to help her.

And so the solution presented itself during a routine visit to Mr. Lawrence’s home for a check-up. A drive-in had opened down the road and was showing Australian-made films only in an attempt to drum up interest in the filming industry. 

It was perfect.

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Trail Mix

the series read as follows:

SupermanMondayCheezy PouffsBacon … Stumbling


Thirteen days later, after another quick stop in Barstow, California for some stupid ass background check on some asshole who ended up needing arresting for his massive stash of illegal guns and even more illegal immigrants, they were in the air over Colorado, relaxing with four bags of peanuts, two of pretzels and one vending machine bag of M&Ms between them, all poured into an empty cup to create a munchable trail mix. They were surrounded by a dark, hushed 12am (2am at home … Scully always put them on home time the moment they stepped on the plane) peacefulness broken only by the hum of engines and the snores of the man across the aisle.

Tucking the armrest up and away, Scully shifted her legs and dipped her head to rest on his shoulder, digging for candies in order to eat in rainbow order, “I would like to request no cases that involve air flight for the next few weeks, okay? Nothing more than 30 miles away, tops.”

Mulder snagged a red one, handing it to her with a weary smile, “Tired of racking up the frequent flyer miles?”

“Just tired. I could do with some home cooking, some loud family and some uninterruptable sleep next to you.”

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though the battlefield would be calling
a wondertrev fic
chapter 3/?
word count: 7240
tags: fix it, reincarnation, slow burn

It comes to Steve as a mosaic.

He dreams of her that night. He dreams of her hair slipping through his hands like sand. He doesn’t know why he keeps imagining her with water, with waves at their ankles, but the idea is there creating whirlpools in his mind. The light halves and looks like a crown upon her head.

“Who are you Diana?”

“I have been many people in the lifetime that you have left me.” Her voice bleeds sadness but her eyes never break away from his.

He wakes without understanding.

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M&M’s -- Tom Holland x Reader (Requested)

So here was my thing: I have OCD and the second I started writing this I had trouble. I’m gonna tell y’all that this shit fucked with my head, but I wrote it. 

This was requested and it’s more of a short thing than anything else. I hope the requester likes it, :) x

Let me know what you guys think. 

Originally posted by tom-holla

“Tom!” You yelled as you continued to slam the cabinets shut. “Tooooom!”

You heard some thumping on the stairs before you heard his voice call out to you, “Yeah?”

“Did you mess with my M&Ms?”

“You’re what?” He yelled back.

“My M&M’s!”

There’s a slight pause before he starts, “I’m pretty sure Paddy messed with them when he was over last week.”

You sighed a bit, “That’s alright.” You close the final drawer and head towards the living room. Considering Paddy probably didn’t mean to mess with the candies, you figured he’d probably thought it harmless to mix them together again. And even though you had spent the better part of an hour separating them into baggies by color, you figured there was some real childlike wonder to mixing things like that up.

You switched the channel on the television, sighing once more when your mind told you to re-separate them. After thinking about it for some seconds, you got up, walked to the candy drawer and pulled the bag out. You reached into the cabinet for 6 baggies, one for each color, and went to settle on the kitchen counter.

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