open inspection


Devastating to plants and players alike: Rafael Nadal accidentally smacks a plant with his forehand while waiting in the tunnel before his match against Gilles Simon. (x)

so, literally 2 months and 1 day after graduating i received my diploma. 

it was exciting. i now have the piece of paper that i spent literally hundreds of hours (if not thousands) studying my ass off for. 

except after opening it and inspecting it, i noticed something odd:

it says i graduated with a major in computer technology, not criminal justice technology

this is beyond aggravating because it took me forever to even get in contact with someone who told me that no, of course i didn’t have to pay $20 to get my diploma mailed to me if i attended the ceremony, and apologized for not having it ready on the day of. 

i’m not going to worry about it though. i leave tomorrow for a weekend vacation in the smoky mountains and i can deal with it all later. it’s just kind of funny, kind of not that this stupid piece of paper has been so hard to obtain and now it’s difficult to obtain it in the right format. 

anonymous asked:

OUT OF CURIOSITY: What would be Aizen and Ookanehira's friendship be like? Say, Aizen considering Ookanehira as his "idol" or something, wanting to grow big and strong like him?Be trained by him? or maybe.. Be more than friends? Yay for redheads! (lol)

I live for requests like this, so cute anon! Be more than friends? Aizen wanting to be Ookanhira’s best friend sounds great ;)

• Aizen pretty easily decided he needs a better role model than Kuniyuki, he figures the lazy jerk wouldn’t care anyway since he only pays attention to Hotarumaru.
• He was pretty open minded, inspecting all the swords for good candidates when he noticed Ookanehira drinking tea with Uguisumaru. Inspiration kind of just struck him, since they’re both red headed he’d make a much better guardian than Kuniyuki!
• For a while he spent his time just watching Ookanehira, when he spars and all the effort he puts into fieldwork.
• After a while Ookanehira decided to confront Aizen and ask why he’s been following him, he had tried to ignore it but having a pair of eyes always on you isn’t great.
• Aizen would proudly declare he’s decided he wants Ookanehira to take him under his wing and he won’t take no for an answer. He knows the right way to go about it, saying no sword there is as great as Ookanehira and it has to be him.
• Unable to turn his away, Ookanehira accepts. After that he seems to always have Aizen trailing around with him. Almost like how Horikawa follows Kane-san.
• Uguisumaru is not happy about sharing Ookanehira.
• Ookanehira would seriously enjoy it after he’s gotten used to it, he’d really treat Aizen like a little brother and probably grow to spoil him a bit.

The Red Boxers
  • John: *enters 221B, carrying a laundry basket* Mrs Hudson asked me to bring this up.
  • Sherlock: *glances at him from his armchair* Just put that in my bedroom. *as an afterthought* Please. *closes his eyes*
  • John: *comes back a minute later, clutching a pair of red boxers in his hand* This looks familiar. Is this... mine?
  • Sherlock: *with eyes still closed* No. Look at it closely. *assumes thinking pose*
  • John: *smooths pants over his open palm and inspects the underwear* *his eyes widen* Oh. *turns to his best friend* A bee and a skull? How have I never seen this before?
  • Sherlock: How would you? Molly bought that for me only a few weeks ago.
  • John: *his jaw drops* You... and Molly? Y-you're––
  • Sherlock: Yes.
  • John: *stands in front of Sherlock with his hands on his hips, the other one still clutching the pants* *in a barely concealed angry voice* Please tell me that this is real. I can't let you hurt her, especially after everything she's been through FOR you and BECAUSE of you! Sherlock, Molly loves you! And she deserves better than to be treated like you treated Janine!
  • Sherlock: *opens his eyes* *levels a cool gaze on John* This isn't like the Janine thing. There's no case, and I don't need to pretend that I'm in love with Molly. This is as real as the pants that you're still holding.
  • John: So you're dating Molly for real?
  • Sherlock: *impatiently* Yes!
  • John: *heaves a sigh of relief* Good to hear that. *throws the pants onto Sherlock's lap* Since when?
  • Sherlock: *takes a deep breath* Since she woke up from her coma. Mary was adamant that I didn't waste another minute. So, while I wasn't used to speaking about my feelings... *purses his lips* I made an effort to tell her––as eloquently as I could––that I love her.
  • John: *smirks and crosses his arms* In short, you blurted it out and confused the hell out of her?
  • Sherlock: *pouts* Yes. But, to her credit, she quickly grasped my meaning after I repeated it. She, of course, couldn't properly jump up and snog me, since she just came out of a nine-week coma. But she smiled and squeezed my hand, enough for me to know that she still loved me. We had a proper talk about it once she started to recover. *smiles up at John*
  • John: You waited until her doctor cleared her for more, er, vigorous activities, right?
  • Sherlock: *clears his throat* Of course. Bleeding through the sheets usually ruins the mood.
  • John: *chuckles* *beams at Sherlock* I'm happy for the two of you, Sherlock. *lays his hands on his friend's shoulders and forces him to look him in the eye* You are aware that it wouldn't end well for you if you break her heart, right?
  • Sherlock: *rolls his eyes* Yes, yes, I'm fully aware of that. Mary said she wouldn't hesitate to shoot me again if Molly ever comes to her crying because of me.
  • John: And I'll be right with her when she shoots you. *straightens up* So, why did you call me out here? Do we have a case?
  • Sherlock: No. *stands up and leaves his pants on his armchair* We're going to Glasgow to ask Molly's mother for her hand in marriage. *puts on his coat, scarf, and gloves* Well, I will ask, while you and Mary vouch for me. *glances back at his best friend* Come along, John. We have a train to catch.
The Kid who Grew up Across the Street

(A/N: This is the first drabble I’ve ever felt confident enough in posting. It’s based off of that picture of Jackson from a few weeks ago where he has the bed hair and mustache stubble bc it made me soft as hell. I hope you enjoy!)
Genre: Fluff (No explicit language, or mature content stated outright. Sex implied, alcohol mention)
1st person x Jackson Wang
Word Count: 563
Summary: waking up with Jackson

Keep reading


For anon…enjoy the gif ;)

A supersonic boom quaking the earth beneath you caused you to look up from your book. You shot your gaze to look out the window only to see smoke rising high into the atmosphere. You were surprised there weren’t any flames considering how loud the impact was. Nonetheless, in your panicked state, you rushed from your house and to the crash site.

Upon further inspection, you realized it was a rather large ship-like structure. Or was it a plane? A hybrid of the two? Whatever it was, half of it was in the dirt. You skid to a stop when you heard a rather angry voice.

“You just had to say something.”
“I am Groot.”
“Don’t give me that!”
“I did not see him give you anything,” a third voice spoke.
“That is another expression,” a female voice spoke.

Despite your confusion, you hurried over to a door near you that seemed to be only slightly open. As you were inspecting it, a hand shot through the small opening and waved around. You gripped the back part of the bent piece and placed your foot on the side of the vehicle. Seeing as how your adrenaline was still pumping, you managed to pry the hole even wider. With a final pull, you slipped on your hold and fell onto the ground with a grunt.

“Woo! Thanks for opening that, Drax,” the voice paused, “You’re definitely not Drax.”

You flicked your eyes up to see a shirtless man. Recognizing your childhood sweetheart immediately, your eyes widened. He seemed to do the same.

You glanced around quickly and rambled, “How-What happened? And why aren’t you wearing a shirt? Not that I’m complaining because, mmm. I thought you ran away after-”
“Who’s she?” the first voice asked a bit irritated.

You glanced back to see a talking raccoon. A tree-man thing stood next to him along with a tattooed man and a green-skinned girl. With a yipe, you scrambled to your feet, gripping tightly onto Peter.

“That’s…a talking raccoon. And a walking tree,” you continued to panic, “Her skin is green! What-How-Huh?” You gripped your head. “Oh boy, I’m dizzy.”
Peter chuckled as he steadied you. “It’s a long story. Let’s get you back to your house.”

He began to walk you in the direction you had come from. You nodded as you tried to make sense of everything.

“Yeah. Home makes sense.”

Want to Request?


White trim around open windows;
brick red siding, fading into coppers.
Peel the layers and you have vulnerability,
shivering in the open. Wood shutters while
inspection combs through cracks and holes,
notes wear and scuffs.

Remove the roof. 
An empty mind gapes, cleared out and airing.
Further into its brainstem, boxes lie along walls.
Picture frames flank cardboard stacks; a finishing touch to
the stairwell. A well-wisher’s afterthought among
transition. An in-between.

anonymous asked:

Has anyone else noticed the bit in the script where its like: 'Lilly quickly sprong forward, forcing Beca's eyes wide open and inspecting them. Bech swats her off, then notices ... John and Gail have been capturing this all on film. Gail holds the boom over Beca's head' It certainly seems to be similar with the on set pics from the other day.

Yes, anon!  That was what I was thinking when I first saw those set pics too.  Yet another indicator that those script excerpts were legit.

jade goes over to rose and kanaya’s for a dinner party. she spills a glass of juice and goes to the linen closet for a towel to clean it up with, only to be buried by an avalanche of dog-eared romance novels, unfinished knitting projects, and fabric scraps as soon as she opens the door. further inspection reveals that although the house at first appears neat, similar detritus occupies most of the closets and cabinets and the space underneath all the couches. The house is a complete disaster, and rose and kanaya tidied up for company by just shoving all the mess out of sight.

crownedpeps  asked:

❀ ( from draco )

send ❀ to put a flower crown in narcissa’s hair // accepting always because this is seriously adorable

“What’s this?” Narcissa Malfoy gently asked her small son. A pleasant smile fit comfortably on her lips, wide and open as her fingers inspected the flowers thread together.
“Did you make this all by yourself?” She looked so fascinated, and thrilled that her little son was doing something so cute and innocent.

“Is this for mumma? Can I wear it?” She asked before fitting the crown upon her head. It was too small to fit around her head– so she just sat it right on top of her hair.

@mazzystardust @podencos @spleendeath @communistcoppola (even tho i cant read ur comment for some reason but i assume bc u are a lovely person it’s positive lol) thank u all so much for ur positivity im gonna absorb it into my own n continue hoping for the best and @spleendeath since u seem to personally have some idea of my struggles it means a lot. its hard out here for a single-income household w/two pets and one of the two applicants is currently out of the country to apply to an apartment w/like…..every single desirable amenity and no flaws and even be considered but i hope….i dream….for the best….hopefully my partner can shmooze his way onto the special applicant pile tomorrow at the actual open inspection bc he’s fuckin ace at that

More than any art piece, he admired her (Bellarke AU)

Drabble inspired by this picture I spotted on intoyoursunlight’s blog and morewonder’s tag “this reminds me of clarke and bellamy from the back”. Where is the lie, right? Picture originally via this post

“Come on Bellamy! The building’s just ahead!” Clarke calledout to him with slight exasperation as scores of busy people pushed past her and her spot on the pavement. She was only 8 feet away from him, a distance he could close easily, but the day was good and he didn’t see why they had to rush. The sun was out but not unbearable, the breeze was catching loose strands of Clarke’s hair…

But of course he had to notice such things on her behalf.

“Oh, come on!” She steps forward and grabs his elbow, urging him to keep pace.

“Calm down Clarke the museum’s not going anywhere,” he chuckled. She pretended not to hear him, choosing instead to tug him a little closer to her and wind her arm through his.

They were headed to the Museum of Modern Art on her insistence. Bellamy held a healthy appreciation for museums, but art wasn’t one of his main interests, so besides a casual visit years before, he’d not ventured into the MoMA. Unsurprisingly, Clarke loved it. Every time they met she would have a new piece she wanted to rave about, or her own painting to show him inspired by something she saw. To him, the works were important, but not as important as the vibrant passion with which she described them, making sure she pointed out every detail to him. They were incomparable to the adorable frown she’d make when she noticed something displeasing in them, or her look of anticipation as she waited for his opinion. He could never understand though, why his uneducated opinion would matter to her.

They were greeted by an eclectic mix of people as they walked through the entrance - Tourists of all races, artsy types, retirees with evident good taste.  Clarke fell right into place in a cotton shirt and casual brown skirt. Her pace had slowed now that they had successfully made it into the building and he marvelled at how her eyes seemed to light up just being in there, a place she’d been in so many times before.

“To the 5th floor,” she said and untwined her arm. Not thinking much, he caught her hand in his, and they made their way up together.

She led him into a gallery filled with paintings which, on first sight, seemed to be colourful thick blotches of different colours. She told him that the artist was Claude Monet and he vaguely remembered coming across the name in his readings. Eager to please Clarke, he moved forward, his fingers still locked with hers, to survey one of them in detail. Thankfully, he could now make out the objects, enough to even appreciate them somewhat.

Peering intently, he read, “Water Lilies, 1914 to 1926.”

So deep was his concentration that he barely registered when she let go of his hand. But then she wrapped her arm around his waist, gently pressing close to his side. That he did notice. Instinctively he reached out towards her other arm, caressing her elbow lightly.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” she whispered after a moment.

“Do what?”

“Be here, with someone I…I love. Admiring a beautiful painting.” Her words stole his breath as irrepressible warmth crept up his neck to his face. He looked down to see her focused intently, too intently, on the painting in front of them.

You’re beautiful. I love you too.” Somehow those words weren’t as difficult to utter as he thought they would be.

He redirected his eyes towards the painting, but his other senses took in her every minute movement and registered her shift to place her head in the crook of his neck.  Responding, he leaned his own head against hers.

It was a comfortable equilibrium, just standing there - One that they held for some time.

The Signs as Force Girls (pt.5 of 12)

Leo - Madame Jocasta Nu (Jedi Chief librarian)

Jocasta has been the keeper of the vastest collection of knowledge - the Jedi Temple library - for a long time. Next to Master Yoda she is one of the most aknowledged and honoured Jedi. To be in charge of the Jedi Temple Archives demands to be self-disciplined, competent and hard-working. As the Chief librarian it is Jocasta’s duty to not let in anybody who’s aim it is to gain knowledge for the sake of claim of power or violence. She is also the one protecting the precious knowledge of the Jedi and their counterparts the Sith, which is stored in Holocrons - force-sensitive storage devices showing holocraphic knowledge - that can only be opened and inspected by a Jedi or vice versa by a Sith. Jocasta is very open to the ones hungry for knowledge. She will guide them through the endless rows of data, knowing exactly where to find what. Her generous nature allows Jocasta to be the perfect one to seek guidance or encouragement at. Only the completeness of the Archives should not be questioned in front of her, for Jocasta is a pride person not used to being offended.

My soul is splayed out for you,
here on this page of splattered ink
and tear drops,
wide open to your inspection
and analysis.
What have you found?
Did you see the pain I feel
at your scrutiny?
Did you watch the stars of my heart
explode and die in a supernova
of color?
Did you feel the love that seeps
from its very depths
and stains everything the color red?
I am vulnerable to your gaze
and now I let you see me-
Here I am, and I present
this version of myself
to you.
Hide and Sweet

IMAGINE THIS: Pietro keeps stealing your chocolates and sweets.

A Pietro x Reader one-shot.

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Characters: Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver, Reader/Yourself

Rating: G

Warnings: wishing some kawaii lil shit was stealing yo sweets

(Credit to the owner of the gif. I’ll try to find out who.)


The first time it happened, a late night craze had hit - your stomach growled for a sacrifice! Bee-lining for the kitchen and flicking the switch of the kettle to prepare a cup of tea, you grab for the bag of M&M’s in the cupboard. The bag is however, noticeably lighter. Frowning, you open the bag and inspect inside. A considerably amount has been eaten, but by whom, you aren’t sure. Shrugging it off, you think to yourself, ‘Hey, at least they hadn’t eaten them all.’ Making your way back to your bedroom, cuppa in hand and the remaining chocolates in the other, curiosity lingers.

The second time it happens; your making preparations to sit down to watch a movie. Again, you go to retrieve a bag of sweets from the kitchen; Skittles being your choice of the month. Your eyes widen when the party sized bag is lifted effortlessly. Shaking it, a rattle sounds. Dread encroaches by the mili-second; opening and inspecting inside, there is but one lonely Skittle remaining. It’s almost too much to comprehend - why would someone leave just one Skittle? Turning to the direction of the living room, you call out, “Who ate all but ONE of my Skittles?!”

The third time it happens, you have taken particular care to hide your recently bought bag of chocolate - Maltesers. They have been stealthy hidden behind the cleaning products in the cupboard under the sink. Who would know? Grabbing for the bag to relieve another sugar craze - again, the bag is empty.

“What?!” Ripping open the packaging, like before, one lonely Malteser remains. And so the rampage ensues - interrogating every member of the household, but no one alludes to who the Sweet Thief is. The person in question obviously doesn’t realise the preexisting sanctity between yourself and food. If it had been anyone else, it would be hilarious but you, nobody got between you and food - nobody. The silent battle commences; finding new hidden locations but being out maneuvered again and again. They taunt you; always leaving one sweet behind.

The fifth time is the last straw - or the last lone sweet to be left for you to find, teasing and mocking. No matter where, it was never good enough. Out done every time. The latest victim, besides yourself, was a most delicious king sized bag of caramel popcorn. At the discovery, you cry out in frustration. Thoughts delusional in a sugar deprived state, there is no choice but to resort to lethal tactics.

Stomping off to your bedroom, you rip open the door in your rage; hinges squeak in protest. However seeing your bed, the rampage is halted; anger dissipating quickly. On your bed are violently colourful bags and packets. You note: multiple bags of every chocolate or sweet having been replaced, now forming a mountain of sugary goodness. It will last the year at least! A quick kiss is planted against your cheek, a whiff of sweetness lingering. Spinning around, Pietro leans lazily against the door frame; the missing bag in question, in hand. Munching away on a mouthful, he smirks playfully at you.

“This was fun.” He says and true to his alias, he darts away leaving a silvery wisp in his wake. His departure breaks the moment  and at last coming to the realisation of the infamous ‘Sweet Theif’s’ identity, you run to the door and shout in the direction he left:



A/N: Yo, hey, hiz! I went to the cupboard to grab my M&M’s…..but the ants stole them D: My inspiration. Took, like, 30min to type. Yes! I am working on Devil in the Details sequel but…yea. The weekend is here and I’m free, so I’ll be tippy typing away. I really, really, want the gif of Pietro eating the sweet from AOU; would represent nicely, yes?