out of the pocket



130715 ☆ Soonyoung’s Diary: As we finished our vocal lesson, Wonwoo slowly took out something from his pocket. It was a vegetable cracker. “Hey Soonyoung, do you want some?“ Of course it’s vegetable cracker, because it’s Wonwoo’s favorite. Because the kind hearted Wonwoo gave me some, it tastes better. (That is a lie. Wonwoo, let’s eat a different cracker now please…)
170210 ☆ Hoshi’s Rolling Paper to Wonwoo: Our Wonwoo-hyung, you’ve really become cool~ The more you grow, the more you resemble me~ Eat properly; you ate lots of vegetable sweets when you were younger, but lately you hardly eat them? ©

I was inspired by @potato-fan-girl writing Lance as a live streamer in this fic! So, here’s Lance taking a stupid dare for the viewers. 

“So, this is insane, but who’s to say that I’m not also insane?” 

Keith smirks as he props his feet up and leans back against his computer chair. He watches with lazy eyes as Lance motions toward the icy river behind him. 

He won’t do it, Keith thinks, and he expresses this through a quick text to the brunet.

It takes only seconds until Lance is fishing his phone out of his pocket, and Keith can’t help the light laugh that slips through his lips as he watches Lance’s face curl into a mask of annoyance as he reads the text.

“My boyfriend seems to think I’m bluffing. Well, let me prove you wrong, Keith!" 

Keith crosses his arms and tilts his head as Lance begins shedding clothes on his laptop screen. He’s predictable, Keith thinks. Lance always asks for dares from his live stream viewers then chickens out half way through. It never fails.

Most likely, Lance will strip to his boxers, toe the icy river water, then make some humorous comment about how he’s not in the mood to die today.

When Lance is stripped down to his boxers, he turns his back to face the river, and Keith’s eyes zero in on the defined back muscles jutting out beautifully against golden tan skin. His gaze trickles down the waist band of Lance’s light blue boxers as a soft blush colors his cheeks, and then Lance jumps.

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darling those marks on your soul add character

tell me this is your
last breath
I’ll give you half of
mine until we’re
both out

your heart isn’t missing
I keep it in my pocket
I take it out when I’m
a different shade
of loneliness
it reminds me I’m not
lonely at all
I’m just colorblind

I can’t give you
any answers
you can’t give me
any answers
but if you hold
my hand I will take
us to a place we will
never see the dark

we don’t have to fill
every waking moment
with poetry
the heart beats the
strongest in silence
love isn’t energy
it can spontaneously
combust at a bar,
a gas station,
on a blank page

I’m just as weak as you
you may not be as strong
I may not be as strong
we are strong enough
if we hold hands

we can cyanide our memories
chop them up in the bath tub
put them in ziptied garbage bags
throw them in the fucking
Ottawa river
we can break frames
burn every picture of
everything and everyone
else who put us here
at least we’re here together

maybe we can postdate
letters thanking them
for showing us their true
so we wouldn’t have to convince
ourselves we liked the shade

I’ve seen your
even though
I’m colorblind

you are the most beautiful
sunrise these eyes
have seen

anonymous asked:

Did you ever stop to think about what kind of insurance Jackie Chan has to be paying? I guarantee it's not a pittance.

Jackie’s famously black-listed by all insurance companies so he actually pays out of pocket for any injuries sustained on his sets. That goes for him and his stunt team. He pays for their medical expenses when something goes wrong.

Marvel: Bucky/Reader

My phone began ringing as I kicked off my shoes. I pulled it out of my pocket and answered it reluctantly when I saw Steve’s name on the screen. With a sigh, I held it between my ear and shoulder as I tried taking off my jacket.

“If you’re about to tell me we have another mission, I’m going to go into hiding.” I told Steve.

“Where would even go?” Steve asked chuckling.

“If I told you, you would come and find me and make me come back to finish whatever mission you had.”

“I would come visit!” Steve assured me. I smiled as I walked over to the window. I leaned against the windowsill as I watch people walk to from their homes.

“I just called to see if you were home, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks Steve,” I smiled.

“Are you okay for dinner?”

“Yeah, I think the leftover pizza in my fridge is still okay,” I glanced at my fridge before turning back to the window. “If not I’ll have to get more, or maybe I’ll get something else.”

“Just as long as you eat something (Y/N),”

I rolled my eyes as I held my phone to my ear, still listening to Steve. As he did, I carried on looking out the window. People sat in the cars, some of them looked annoyed whereas others looked nervous. People walked hand in hand with their loved ones or their children. And then there was someone who was staring right at me.

“Steve,” I began. A bus drove past and the person who was staring at me was gone.

“(Y/N)?” Steve asked concerned.

“I- I think I saw someone staring at me,” I stepped away from the window and pulled the curtains closed.



I opened the fridge and pulled out the pizza box that sat on the shelf. My phone was sitting on the kitchen counter behind me as I put the pizza into the microwave. As I waited, I kept glancing back to the window. Steve told me to call him in case anything happened. Last we heard of Bucky, he was the Winter Soldier. He wasn’t the Bucky that Steve and I knew.

The microwave beeped and I looked up at it from my phone. Steve had offered to come and keep me company if I needed. After assuring him several times that he didn’t need to, I hung up after saying I’d call him in the morning.

I pulled out the pizza from the microwave and took it to the sofa with a drink. The windows were closed and I placed a glass of water on each windowsill. If anyone was to get in, they’d knock of each bottle catching my attention.


I opened my eyes and pulled my gun out from underneath my pillow. There was a clang of metal against metal as the gun made contact. Through the dark, I could see that there was someone else in the room, my bedroom. My first instinct was to swing my leg out and kick whoever had grabbed my gun. My foot made contact with someone and they stumbled out of shock.

“(Y/N), it’s me!”

I froze at the voice. The light came on and I jumped out of bed when I saw Bucky standing next to me. The bed sat in between us as I stared at him, my heart racing in my chest.

“You-you’re not really here.” I told him. Or myself. “I would’ve heard you come in!”

“(Y/N), I promise, it’s me.” Bucky told me.

I reached behind my bed and grabbed the spare gun I had waiting. I aimed it at Bucky who continued to look at me.

“What’re you doing here?” I demanded. “How are you here?”

“(Y/N), please put the gun down.”

I lowered the gun very slowly. As I did, I kept my eyes on Bucky.

“Please, I just want to talk.”

“You came back, and you never told anyone. You never even told Steve.” I pointed out.

“I-I know. I had to come see you, and make sure you were okay.”

“And the best way is to break into my house?” I asked.

I put down my gun and rubbed my face.

“You have some serious explaining to do.” I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking.

“I will explain everything.” Bucky assured me.

I finished my glass of milk and continued to look at Bucky. His own glass had been untouched after he poured it. Instead of drinking, he had been talking. Explain why he didn’t’ come to me or Steve. Instead, he watched the two of us, trying to decide when it would be the perfect time to talk to us.

There was silence as we sat together. “If you don’t tell Steve, I will.” I told Bucky.

“You tried shooting me, what would Steve do?”

“Well, you snuck into my room.” I pointed out.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“If Steve can use a cell phone, I’m pretty sure you can.”

“Ouch.” Bucky chuckled. I gave him a small smile.

“You know, you can stay the night if you’d like? And maybe we can call Steve tomorrow so he doesn’t have to run over in his pyjamas?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

I lay in bed and rolled onto my side. I looked at Bucky who was lying next to me on his back. With his eyes half closed, he looked at me.

“Everything okay?” He asked. I gave him a smile.

“Yeah, I just missed you a lot.”

alfredo has to go get his nails trimmed today. usually i have to give him a tranquilizer to get groomed but i debated giving him anything because it’s just a nail trim and he hasnt been eating his breakfast which might make his stomach upset. i bite the bullet and give him the pill and he. keeps. spitting. it. out. i tried peanut butter. i tried his pill pockets. i tried a fucking banana. he has spit it out all over the floor so now he’s covered in PB & banana OH and he’s eating his breakfast now. also that was his last pill so. 

nerdy-m  asked:

i've made myself laugh with this, but what if when Majima tried to propose but then he and Kiryu got jumped by some street thugs, and while fighting the ring box fell out of Majima's back pocket and the ring flew out of it. So now with the help of the street thugs, they have to find the ring, and when they find it Majima is all "Well fuck being subtle i guess" and proposes to Kiryu. And all Kiryu has to say is "yes" and "how the hell did you get my measurements?"

I LOVE THIS…the thought that the thugs came in to fight them but as soon as they heard about a wedding ring being dropped theyre just like o–oh…my mistake,,,, lemme help,,, like… i love this so much

so much of the anti-chomsky reader is just calling him out for not supporting the invasion of iraq which seriously fucking discredits the entire project. paul fuckin’ postal of all people called him out for being critical of american military intervention in the face of the successes of the invasion of iraq and afghanistan, and like, fuck dawg, this was clearly written in the early bush administration because no one would refer to either as “successful” 15 years down the line and a couple trillion bucks out of pocket on a war which completely fucked the middle east.


I received a message about why i have a tip jar. Sooo here’s why:

I have a disease called von wilderbrandts.

It is a bleeding disorder. Long story short, the factor that causes my blood to clot is absent. I live a sheltered life, brushing my teeth too hard or a paper cut is a scary experience. But worse of all is my period. I won’t go into gory details but I live in fear that being a woman may ultimately kill me.

The reason for the tip jar:

My meds are ridiculously expensive. My medical insurance covers about 20% of the overall bill every month the rest my hubby pays out of pocket. I have a tip jar to try and alleviate the short fall this creates. Unfortunately I can’t actually function without my meds, so skipping a month or forgetting to take it daily has horrible consequences.

And that’s why I have tip jar. I hope I explained this properly.

Love you all!

Surgery covered because you met your out of pocket for the year? Splendid!

Husband finds your wedding set so you don’t have to buy new ones? Amazing!

Of course that means your cell phone is going to completely brick at 9:30 this morning…

Originally posted by gameraboy

• Bend the line, don’t break it. • Jethro’s daughter, Emma is about to graduate from college and follow in her father’s footsteps at NCIS. But during her time as an intern, NCIS must join forces with the FBI’s BAU on a case and Emma finds herself falling for Dr. Spencer Reid.

                                     Chapter 2: Mole Models

With a coffee cup in hand, Emma carefully ran from the parking lot to the NCIS building. She fished her ID badge out of her pants pocket and clipped it to her shirt. Once her hand was free, she pulled her cell phone from the other pocket because it kept vibrating. Tony was obnoxiously sending her blank text after blank text, no doubt to get her attention….or annoy her. 

Emma chose to believe the latter.As she approached the door with her hands full, she quickly tried to shove her phone back in her pocket only for someone to ram into her. Her coffee cup splattered to the ground, splashing coffee all over khaki pants. “Are you shitting me?” Emma groaned. She rolled her eyes as the man who ran into her just kept walking. Clearly, the man hadn’t a clue whose daughter she was, otherwise he would likely be fearing for his life right about now. Thankfully, if there was one thing her father had taught her it was that she was always to be prepared. She had the pair of jeans she had worn to class earlier. Those would have to do and she hoped neither Tony nor her father would give her any grief about it.


nickoflahertys  asked:

sooo..... when are you just going to change your icon/theme/url.... jess.... dick grayson who? you havent been a comic blog for a long time... i think everyone knows you are now 120% Band Blog Trash

im that one old meme where im like b*ndom? who???? but then 10,000 pictures of patrick stump fall out of my pockets

When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.

This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.

She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.

“Do you need help?” she offered.

The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.

“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.

This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”

“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”

This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.

Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.

The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.

“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.

She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.

“An outrage! Put me down!”

“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.

“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.

“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”

The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”

“Really? Can I hear some?”

“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.

She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.

In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.

“There you go. Food mountain.”

The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.

She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”

“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.

“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.

She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”

It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.

“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”

“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”

She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”

It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”

“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”

“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.

They actually played this song and it’s forever stuck in my head

     [ Just realized that I never posted this here~ but fun fact, this is the very first drawing of Professor Kukui I ever did lol way back before the games even came out! 

     Surprisingly… I still kinda like it haha! ]

  • Chat Noir: Knock knock
  • Marinette: Chat, what are you doing outside my room this time of night?
  • Chat Noir: *makes extended eye contact and leaves a banana on her windowsill, then flees into the night*
  • Marinette, very confused and concerned: What the fuck.
  • Chat Noir, the very next night: Knock knock
  • Marinette: Chat, you're back! What was up with the banana last night??
  • Chat Noir: *says nothing, pulls another banana out of a pocket and leaves it on her windowsill, then flees into the night*
  • Marinette, whisper yelling: Chat, what the fuck? I don't need this much potassium??
  • Chat Noir, the next night: Knock knock
  • Marinette: *staring him down, arms crossed*
  • Chat Noir: *slowly pulls a banana out of a pocket*
  • Marinette: Don't. You. Dare.
  • Chat Noir, dares: *places the third banana onto her windowsill, then flees into the night*
  • Marinette, throwing the banana after him: I swear to god if this is some kind of weird courting ritual!!
  • Chat Noir, the fourth night: Knock knock
  • Marinette: What.
  • Chat Noir: *smiles and holds out an orange for her*
  • Marinette: *looking at him suspiciously but takes the orange*
  • Marinette: Why an orange tonight?
  • Chat Noir: Orange you glad it isn't a banana?
  • Marinette: *punts the orange so hard into his face that he falls off the balcony*