pretty sure this is from the set of these three

Okay so the scene that Tom posted made me gather some “information” (that I’m pretty sure you thought of too).

-One. This was what they shot in Germany. Remember the last day of the Homecoming shoot, when they were at Germany to shoot a hotel scene? This is pretty much it.

-Two. This scene was before the airport fight in Civil War. If you think about it, it does match pretty well, since Happy asks Peter “What the hell are you wearing?” The camera pans down to see a pair of red boots and a little shot of grey sweatpants. Meaning, this was before Peter got the new suit. (You can see his sleeve and web shooter that’s also very far from the CGI suit in Civil War.)

-Three. Those old set pictures of Tom holding a case was actually his new suit, (but apparently Peter didn’t bother to open it until Happy told him to. Plus I’m pretty sure you guys had this figured out.)


anonymous asked:

I feel as though Thomas would stress Alex's need for rest after a long stressful day while he is watching Alex work out- in which case he would probably pick him up and just take him to their shower or bed. What are your thoughts?

Thomas eyed Alex as his boyfriend did another set of sit ups, his chest heaving and his face flushed from the effort. 

Alex and Thomas were the only ones left in the gym, seeing how it was nearing one A.M. and Alex had dragged Thomas to the gym just to do his workout routine. It’s not like Thomas minded, he didn’t really fall asleep until two or three in the morning sometimes, but he was mainly concerned over Alex’s health. That being he was pretty sure that Alex hadn’t slept in nearly three days and he still insisted on going to the gym in the middle of the night. 

Alex did another sit up, groaning with the effort it caused him, and Thomas finally decided that his boyfriend needed rest and he needed it now. He stood from where he sat on a nearby bench and went over to Alex, pressing a hand to his shoulder to stop him in his last sit up.

“What is it?” Alex asked, panting and uncurling from his position on the gym floor. 

“You need rest, that’s what’s up.” Thomas proclaimed, glaring at Alex with finality in his voice. 

Alex scoffed, reaching for his water bottle and taking a sip before answering, “Yeah, no, I still have to do-”

“I wasn’t making a suggestion, Alex. You’re exhausted. When was the last time you slept?”

Alex paused, furrowing his brow in concentration as he tried to remember his last full nights sleep. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Doesn’t matter, I’m not done yet.” 

“Babe… You need to sleep, I’m serious. You can’t trudge to the gym after a long day like you had. You deserve to rest.” Thomas pleaded, staring at Alex.

Alex looked down at the ground, not meeting Thomas’ eyes. Thomas sighed and wrapped his arms around Alex, picking him up.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Alex demanded halfheartedly.

“You’re going to shower and then we’re going back home.” Thomas replied.


“Not buts” Thomas cut in, “You need sleep and you’re gonna get it.” Thomas walked them over to the showers and finally put Alex down. “You get clean and I’ll clean up our stuff. Okay?”

Alex didn’t answer.

“Okay?” Thomas repeated forcibly. 

“Okay.” Alex huffed, walking out of Thomas’ line of site as he went to go bathe. 

Thomas watched him go and then turned to go and gather their things. After about twenty minutes, Alex walked back out, his hair still shimmering and dressed in an oversized sweatshirt to hide his breasts.

“Ready?” Alex asked, which was quickly follower by a yawn.

Thomas chuckled. “Yeah. Can I sleep in your dorm tonight, by the way? I don’t want to wake up Jemmy.”

Alex laughed softly, “That was a given, hon’.”

So I stole a set of nesting tables from my grandmother’s house - they were filthy and ugly, but I spent all afternoon and evening scrubbing, sanding and painting them, and they are going to be lovely when I’m finished with them. As I was doing this, I watched all three of the Grudge movies, since I’ve been on a weird early-2000s horror kick recently. Anyway I think the Grudges are actually pretty interesting, you know, from a spirit-worker kind of perspective, talking about things that live on as fragments and how these fragments affect people (but in a super overblown Hollywood way, of course). And I just found myself wishing over and over that all of this Bad Evil Hate Energy in the movies was, like, counteracted by incidents of genuine, unprompted kindness. Not because I think every movie should have a Message, just because I think that would make such a fun story. Like, if in the first movie Kayako’s spirit had come to murder Clea Duvall and instead of being like o no! a horrifying ghost! Clea Duvall had greeted her with real sympathy, oh my god, you poor thing, what happened to your mouth, that looks - pretty sore - I think we have some antiseptic around here somewhere, sit down, I’ll make you tea, maybe with some brandy in it? You’re so pale, have you had a shock? Do you want a bobbin to keep your hair out of your face? Here, have mine, let me get you a hot water bottle, you’re freezing.

Anyway obviously this turned into me wishing for a movie series about an old lady ghost hunter who just goes into haunted houses and grandmothers the fuck out of wicked, vengeful spirits. Yes, yes, the walls are bleeding again, I see it. You’re very clever. Now come here to me, would you, I’ve made you some hot chocolate to drink while the apple pie bakes. Of course there are marshmallows in it. Oh, no, pet, you’re just covered in muck, you’re trailing it all over the kitchen. Stand here while I get the mop. Yes, you can have your hot chocolate. You were murdered by your jealous lover, you said? Oh dear, isn’t that dreadful. Here, you just shake out your dress into the bin, get rid of those spiders for me, love. Now. Let’s have ourselves a nice sit-down and you can tell me all about it.

Getting The Girl

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning: Swearing, violence.

Summary: Buck’s in love with you, but he cant stand your boyfriend till things between the two of you and go wrong, Buck’s the one that’s saving you.


“I think if you stare any harder, you might just pop a blood vessel.” Sam chuckles setting his glass back on the table. Steve laughs next to him, as they watch Buck moon over (Y/N) and death glare at her boyfriend Adam.

Keep reading


“Sweetheart, what do you think about matching tattoos?” Chris asks one day while he’s arm-deep in suds, helping clean up dinner from that night. You shrug, accepting the plate that he hands you to rinse off.

“I think they’re cute, but,” You scrunch your nose a bit, setting the rinsed plate on the drying rack, “They’re kind of pointless if the people who get them stop talking to one another.” Chris hums, handing you another plate. You hold it in the stream of water coming from the faucet. “Why?”

“Well, our three year anniversary is coming up.. I’m pretty sure that we’re going to stick around each other for a while,” He nods to the engagement ring you had taken off and set on the window ledge, “And I’ve been itching to get some new ink for a while now.” He smiles at you, chuckling a bit before scrubbing at a pan.

You take the dish towel that’s on your shoulder, holding it in your hands. Watching Chris scrub at the pan, you think about what he’s suggesting. It wasn’t anything wrong with the idea of it, but.. “Where would we get them?”

Keep reading

The Great Campaign

As should probably be unsurprising, I’ve never liked school that much. So, in high school, whenever a school-sanctioned opportunity arose, I’d leave the Concentration Campus.

One day, a teacher came to my class during a free period and said that he needed members of the student council for something. At this time, my friend Alex and I were on the council. Both of our positions were completely pointless. I mean, it was worse than the Russian Duma between 1905 and 1917, and that much pointlessness takes skill. Let me briefly digress to explain how we got them:

One day, the faculty decided it would be nice if there were a Student Council so they could get points for Representing The People. To this end, they selected two students from the fifth form (final year) as the candidates for President of the Student Council and announced in the assembly (kind of like homeroom) at the beginning of the day that everyone would be expected to vote for one of them.

During the day they went to each class to collect votes for the Student Council President while also asking each class to nominate and vote for a Class President. When they reached my class, they asked for someone to volunteer to run for CP. I put up my hand but no one else did. The teacher shrugged and said “Alison is your new Class President. See ya later.”

After all the votes came in and were considered by the staff, they declared the winner of the Student Council’s Presidential election to be… My friend Alex in form 3 who was never on the ballot. Because logic.

Anyway, I was pretty surprised they actually wanted us for something. It was almost as if we were important! So, Alex and I followed the teacher to the staff-room where we were briefed on the Super Special Mission of Specialness. Basically, we needed to send a few representatives to a conference the Ministry of Education was holding where they were going to lecture us on Leadership and Responsibility and Dying For Your Führer or some shit. So, slightly less boring than normal school. I was in.

That is, until a girl we thought was sick turned out to be not-sick and actually in school. She was the Secretary and the other people present were the Treasurer, the School President, and a Class President. At this point the teacher decided to mention that he was only allowed to bring three people: the President, Treasurer, and Secretary; with alternates only being accepted when the others were unavailable. Crap.

So, I turned to him, steadied myself, and cranked the charm up to eleven. I made some argument about being a full member of the council too and needing to learn about The Glorious Führer or something like that. I don’t recall because I was too busy thinking don’t send me back don’t send me back please don’t send me back while radiating deadly amounts of Charisma. Evidently, the C-Rays must have fried his brain because he finally relented and let me come with them.

[Comedic travel montage in which we manage to get lost in a town of 6000 people while looking for a well-known landmark, but I forget the details.]

When we arrived at the place, I noticed the Fatal Flaw to my plan. Since we were late due to errors of shipping & handling, everyone else was already there. In my country, all the secondary schools have uniforms, so I could see that everyone was in clusters of three students per school. We very obviously had four. I didn’t know who or where or why or how but someone was going to ask Questions and then I was going to Die.

Luckily, due to some combination of bystander apathy and me rolling into an exceptionally uninteresting ball, the wolves passed without harming me. I was able to sit there and listen to the speech about the Führer…

…Wait, you thought I was kidding, didn’t you? No, no. I never kid. This is what the lecturer said:

“So, how many of you would describe Adolf Hitler as a good leader?” He looked over the crowd and decided to pick on the most uninteresting ball he could find.

“You, at the back!” He called, pointing at me.

“Uh,” I began eloquently. “I would say that the question has multiple interpretations with different answers. He was certainly good at leading, but if the job of a leader is to steer you in the right direction, then no, he wasn’t.”

“Brilliantly stated!” He lied. “Well done! What about the boy next to you with his hand up?”

I turned to look at Alex, who proudly declared “I think Hitler was a great leader! Sure, Germany may have had its ups and downs, but Hitler did nothing wrong! In fact, he should have done more!” Alex turned and looked me in the eye. “If Hitler had been more successful, I might have fewer classmates today. Y’know what they say about small class sizes, right?”

I couldn’t take it. I laughed first, losing the game to him.

The lecturer on the stage before us was watching Alex with an expression that my (occasionally buggy) Facial Expression Recognition Software (GPLv3) flagged as a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and indigestion. I wondered what he’d eaten.

“So, uh, that’s, ah, one way of looking at it.” He said, sounding like he’d just seen a perfectly ordinary witch transform into a cat.

He then went on to explain why Hitler was a bad leader because being a good leader requires following Jesus and leading behind his leadership; which definitely doesn’t include doing bad things to Jews, but maybe to Muslims on alternating Tuesdays. I wasn’t really paying close attention.

However, he soon started describing an election – and this I did pay attention to. He told us that the Ministry of Education had decided that there was going to be a National Student Council to represent all the students in the country. Hooray! I thought. Another Duma!

He told us there would be such New and Exciting positions as President, Vice President, Secretary, Treasurer, Executioner, Head of The Inquisition, and Ass Kisser++ With Extra Lipstick. OK, I may not have been paying very close attention here either. In my defence, the conversation with Alex was far more interesting.

“You should run for Treasurer!” Alex told me excitedly.

“Did you completely forget the part about me being smuggled goods?” I asked incredulously. “I’m lucky they haven’t tossed me in the harbour yet!”

“Details.” Alex said, waving the problem away. “Come on! No one could be more qualified!”

“I suck at accounts.” I understated.

“That isn’t what makes you a good treasurer. This,” he pointed to my nose, “is what makes you a good treasurer.”

“You can’t literally sniff out corruption,” I informed him. “You do know that, right?”

“No, you idiot!” He shook his head. “You’re a Jew! You have powers mere mortals have only dreamed of!”

“Pass.” I replied. “I like not being in the harbour.”

“Come on!” He complained. “You can’t pass up your destiny! You were born to guard a massive pile of gold and roar at the foolish adventurers who come to slay you.”

“Firstly,” I began patiently. “I think you may have confused Jews and dragons. Secondly, even if being Jewish were a sane reason for taking a job, there’s no reason I couldn’t be the President or the Secretary.”

“Your handwriting is shit, and Jews can’t be president.” Alex informed me, sounding like he’d settled the matter.

“What?” I asked. “That’s not true! Look at Benjamin Disraeli.”

“Prime Ministers aren’t Presidents!” Alex announced gleefully. “You lose a turn!”

He turned back to the stage, satisfied with his victory.

The lecturer was now instructing all those who wished to run for a position to put up their hand so he could call on them to introduce themselves and announce which position they were running for. I decided to throw caution to the wind and put up my hand. They hadn’t found me yet and if I was going out, then I was going out in style. I’d decided that running for President wouldn’t be a good idea since that’d be the position with the greatest competition and, as anyone with hereditary business savvy knows, the best way to succeed is to use politics to avoid competition. Likewise, I wouldn’t run for Vice President because I didn’t want to have to assassinate the other guy. I’d promised my mother not to be that evil before my eighteenth birthday.

The lecturer was apparently calling on people in a systematic order. I was somewhat surprised to see this much organisation from someone who worked for the government and wondered how long it would take him to get fired. When he finally reached my side of the amphitheatre, his face changed from disinterest to trepidation. He pointed to Alex the way a sentry might point to the barbarians approaching the city walls as they chanted “doom doom doom, doom doom-doom doom doom-doom…

Alex stood, introduced himself, and announced his candidacy for president. He flashed the room a dazzling smile which, statistically speaking, must have made at least three girls faint. Impressive, I thought. A dumb choice of position; but still impressive. It is a common misconception that presidents are the most important people in an organisation. Not so. The most important person is the one holding the president’s balls – which happen to be permanent residents of the organisational purse.

Next it was me. I too introduced myself, and announced that I’d be running for treasurer. I decided not to attempt the smile since it was clearly an Advanced Technique and Alex was still the acknowledged master in the Art of Charisma. I decided to bide my time…

…For 3 seconds. The moment I sat, Alex turned to me and said, “Good job! I’ll vote for you.” I then turned to the person on the other side of me and offered my outstretched hand. “Vote for me.” I said with a smile that was slightly less catastrophic-systems-failure-inducing than Alex’s, but still quite potent at close range. Clearly my attack roll was a Critical because the guy shook my hand and said “Of course, dude.” Success! Oh, the poor bastard.

I repeated the routine with all the people near me. I only rolled a one once. That time, my target looked at me with a little scepticism and asked “why should I?”

Shit. I’d forgotten that, once in a while, someone votes for a politician for a reason instead of just failing a Will save. I wracked my brain, immediately rejecting Alex’s justification of Jews and dragons.

“I’m studying accounting,” the idiot that was in control of my vocal cords said. All systems were flashing ‘abort mission!’ and ‘you stupid piece of…’ and similarly justified alerts. I cranked my pokerface up to the max and waited for him to inevitably ask me what my grades were in accounting.

Then, a miracle I dared not hope for: a twenty.

“OK,” He said, fooled into accepting my stupendous bluff. “What’s 73 times 9?”

“657,” I answered, almost automatically. The boy nodded, apparently satisfied.

“You’ve got my vote,” he said. All systems were now flashing ‘hooray!’ and ‘you’re still a stupid piece of…’

By this time it was lunch, so we retired to the courtyard after giving the lecturer our names so he could make ballots. I made sure to work the crowd, pulling my handshake routine on each of them. This time I had to turn the charisma past eleven. I set it to ALL, making sure to have each of them feel special and loved – like they mattered – before moving on to the next one and leaving them with the metaphorical baby. I never stuck around to find out how the guys handled their metaphorical pregnancies, but I heard from second-hand sources that it wasn’t pretty.

Unfortunately, a few wanted to be married before they’d agree. This is a deep and complex political concept which can only properly be encapsulated by, “I’ll vote for you if you vote for me.” Most of them literally said that.

Of course, I couldn’t simply say “sure”! I was an individual of class, dignity, refinement, and racist humour. As such, I questioned them. I asked them what they’d do if they were president and smiled at them when they answered; as if they’d told me just what I needed to hear. I asked them about world politics, and congratulated them on their shrewdness when they located Australia in Europe. I asked them what they thought of a quote by a famous person, and praised their intelligence when they told me it was, like, soooo deep. In the end, I assured them that they, without a doubt, were the most qualified person for the job. They had my vote.

I told sixteen people this. I have never claimed to be a good person.

Eventually, I was finished and went to get my lunch. I brought it over to the table Alex had already commandeered. There were also two girls from schools I didn’t recognise sitting at this table on the opposite side from Alex. I sat next to my friend and began telling him of my exploits without any details of how exploitative it was. After all, there were potential voters right there. Alex, on the other hand, informed me that he was doing no campaigning, and that I shouldn’t vote for him because he’d just been joking.

After I’d finished describing the way I’d secured promises from everyone – including the two girls sitting across from us before they’d arrived here – one of the girls turned to me and commented on how successful I seemed to be. We stared into each other’s eyes for what I realise, in retrospect, was longer than Standard Eye-Contact Time. I didn’t know because I’ve never read the manual. We engaged in some witty banter which I no longer recall. What I do know now, though only in retrospect, was that this was me flirting – for the first time. I was not set on fire even once throughout the whole experience, so I count it as an unqualified success.

After lunch, we all returned to the amphitheatre for the actual voting process. The lecturer handed each of us seven printed ballots – one for each available position – with a list of all the candidates for that position, with check-boxes next to their names. Very well done. This guy’s days were numbered.

After we’d all filled out our ballots, another ministry official went around and collected them in a box. She then brought it back to the lecturer so the votes could be tallied and entered into a laptop. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, he began to speak.

“And the President of the National Student Council is,” he said, and a name was displayed on the wall behind him with the number of votes received next to it. Below that name were the names of the runners-up with their vote numbers. Alex had gotten three votes – most likely the fainters. The person who had been selected walked down the steps and approached the stage. There were a few scattered claps. The lecturer repeated the process for every position, with each winner getting a plurality of the votes and a couple claps here and there. Treasurer was the last.

“And the Treasurer of the National Student Council is…” Click. The scene on the wall changed and the name displayed at the top of the list was mine. Next to it: 54 out of 73 votes. The crowd went wild. The applause was loud and excited. I stood and swept a bow to one side, increasing the volume. I bowed to the other side and the roar became deafening. I proceeded to approach the stage. Halfway down, Alex started chanting “Alison! Alison! Alison!” The rest of the crowd adopted the cry as well. “Alison! Alison! Alison!”

When I finally arrived on stage I turned back to the audience, flashed a smile that undoubtedly caused four people to faint, and gave one last bow before sitting in a chair which had been provided. The lecturer had to order everyone to quiet down, calm down, and sit down. Of course, there was no ‘down’ for me. I was on top of the world.

Random  Bits:
  • My work week starts with a 1.5 hour teleconference with 12 participants dialing in from 5 different countries that starts at 7am EST sharp.  I’m not sure if I’m more stressed about the call itself, or potentially sleeping through my alarm set for 5:45am.

  • The show on Saturday was great.  Both Green Day and Against Me! were on point, and the seats were pretty okay.  Girl got an amazing shot of Green Day during “King For A Day” that I’ll be posting here soon.

  • I’m slowly feeling less stressed, but that’s just because of my upcoming vacation. It’ll be a sprint of a three-day work week but… I’m okay with that. Because I have 7 days all to my self after that.

  • And I do mean all to myself.  Girl is traveling abroad, so I’ll be spending plenty of time not socializing, trying to get myself mentally/socially recharged.  I really, really need the time!  The last month or two have been rough on me for reasons I can’t quite wrap my head around yet.

  • I’ve been managing my spending much better than I have been.  But I haven’t been to the gym lately, I’ve still been buying what probably constitutes “too many records,” and I’ve been eating crap.  But hey.  Little victories, right?

  • I swear.  I’ll start being fun again sometime very soon.
“Not all kids are naughty, you know. You just have to raise them properly.”

Yeeeah. The thing is, even having a well-behaved child is not appealing to me. 

The most that a well-behaved, super-quiet, ultra-neat and rarely-ever-hungry child could hope to be is ‘not so bad’ in my eyes - and even then, children still need some attention from their parents. I’m pretty sure they don’t just grow their own school uniform and shoes. Do you really want to condemn some poor kid to a life like that?

Weirdly, when a parent says something like this to me, I can usually recount at least two or three incidents of their child being… well, less than cherubic.

Simply put, I’m pretty sure that no matter how great the child, they’re still going to throw a howler now and then.

My howler tolerance quota is set at zero. I’m not interested in having that tested, thanks - especially when I’d be stuck with the consequences for a lifetime.


Too bad Nicola missed this performance, because obviously in retrospect it pretty definitively answers the long simmering question of exactly which one of them is Russell Crowe.

(Well, I say long simmering, but of course there has *never* really been any doubt about the correct answer, has there?)

We’re now only a month (minus two days) away from the 10th Anniversary of the first airings of the second set of three episodes, but I’m sure you won’t mind if I start celebrating a little early with Malcolm the Pharaoh at his Pharaonic finest.

Shit That Happened Freshman Year of College

I keep forgetting to post this, so here it is, my list of weird stuff from my first year at college, about six weeks late.

  • that kid who longboarded past me at like 7pm in a powdered wig (like, full-on George Washington style)
  • “Do you think Texas Roadhouse is open this early?” overheard in the dining hall at 8:30am
  • apple juice is second only to coffee in the hierarchy of drinks in the dining hall bc the orange juice tastes like shit
  • fire drill at 9pm the week before finals with 2 inches of snow outside and i was unable to put my shoes on in time, all because some asshole set off the alarm while smoking a joint
  • an impossible amount of guitar picks in improbable places throughout the first semester, including in my sock drawer at home, 4 hours away from my school
  • that time my roommate thought i had a GIANT container of cocaine but it was just lemonade mix (pretty sure she was three seconds from calling the cops on me)
  • that time the roommate’s boyfriend went back to his room after spending the night in our room and found half of his hall barricaded in his room bc one of the others had found a BB gun the night before and was without mercy
  • actually just anything involving The Bastards of A Wing (you’re welcome to ask for more specific stories, there’s a lot of them)
  • this conversation i had with a violinist
    • “You know, I’ve done the math, and I’m pretty sure that if i get hired by a strip club in Denver, I could probably make back my tuition twice over before the semester is finished.”
    • “That’s nearly a five hour drive one way, though.”
    • “Yeah, but the only other town big enough to have a semi-classy strip club is Salt Lake City, and I don’t think Mormons really go for that kind of thing.”
  • using face paint to do a very quick FAHC!Ryan cosplay for Halloween and accidentally making a little girl cry
  • the time i came back to my room, fully aware that my roommate and her boyfriend had had sex earlier, and when I walked in she gave me a shit-eating grin and said “guess who got something sticky all over the ceiling?” I almost turned around and left without another word, intending on spending the night in the library or something, but then he yells “I DROPPED MY SODA AND IT EXPLODED SHE’S TAKING IT OUT OF CONTEXT”
  • “Quantum Physics and Accounting are the only classes where you’ll truly get your mind blown.” some guy in my accounting 201 class
  • “Oh, by the way, Wyatt broke his phone on his nipple last night.” The next ten minutes were spent curled up on the floor in helpless laughter.
  • #musicmajors
    • “I bet i could pick you up.”
    • “Yeah, but can you pick up my tuba at the same time?”
  • the orchestra director doing Ricky Ricardo impressions when he got annoyed with the orchestra and we “made his Spanish come out”
  • this conversation I had with my friend in the middle of a restaurant
    • “Hey, do you like Nipplese food?”
    • “… do you mean Nepalese?”
    • “… oh. Yeah.”
  • [muffled Mexican rap music]
  • “I’m just a chocolate seller in Ireland! I don’t know how the Indian market works!” my marketing professor in an example i no longer remember the context of
  • that time someone yelled “do a barrel roll!” at a guy riding his bike down stone steps
  • [in heavy country accents] overheard while walking past the science building
    • “Pull that pin, Josh!”
    • “I did, gosh!”
    • “Alright, well, not good enough.”
  • the fucking school-approved stampede of actual cattle through the middle of campus on a Thursday morning
  • “[gentle gasp] The Property Brothers!” overheard in line in the dining hall, when they weren’t even playing on any of the TVs around?
  • [muffled shouting from the class next door] “NO, NO, LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE HORSE INDUSTRY!”
  • overheard while walking to breakfast on a Friday morning
    • “Wow, you guys are up early.”
    • “We didn’t sleep.”
    • “Hey, same!”
  • that theater teacher who wore a kilt every day regardless of weather or wind speed
  • overheard between two extremely buff dudes while walking to class
    • “This is a Mighty Ducks jersey, man! It might be the most valuable thing in my closet!”
    • Might be? Motherfucker, it is!”
  • old lady ghost erotica
  • sheep on the quad. Why is there so much livestock on this campus?
  • “If you’re wearing a bandana, you’re at risk of being shot with a water gun.” overheard while entering the English building on a Tuesday morning
  • “Yeah, well, we don’t have a time machine to go back and see what happened, okay? The fact of the matter is, the Vietnamese kicked our collective asses.” overheard while waiting in line at the dining hall

honestly there was a lot more but I just didn’t write down some and this list is long enough already

Storm the World with Reckless Abandon

Snippet #3

Ichigo doesn’t know what the everloving fuck is going on.

After the men in white took him into an aircraft, they somehow ended up in a city full of freak shows who looked even more bizarre than the Gotei 13 combined. And that’s a rather disturbing imagery he had never wanted to know.

The soldiers took him in a huge building with white walls and hallways before setting him down and basically demanding answers with threatening undertones.

Ichigo hadn’t been impressed.

So for three hours, as the demands grew more frustrated and angry, Ichigo basically repeated one sentence in a flat tone in English.

“I don’t speak English.”

Ichigo was pretty sure the soldiers took rotations in questioning him just so they would have the patience to not strangle him where he sat. Judging from the thumps he could distinguish from the vibrations on the walls, either the soldiers were punching it to let out their pent-up anger or banging their heads together and cursing till they turned blue.

He figured it was a record for him to drive so many professional people insane. It was gratifying, considering Ichigo was just as annoyed as they were from the interrogation.

Finally, due to the fact the soldiers apparently couldn’t touch or hurt him seeing how doing so would be considered inhumane by this city’s people’s standards, Ichigo got away scott free without ever revealing one damn thing about himself. Which was a bit relieving, seeing how Ichigo knew how terrible he was at lying.

The second he hit the streets though with his escort, Ichigo faced a whole different problem that only multiplied his irritation tenfold. People gawked at him like he was a circus animal on display and it was aggravating the crap out of him. So for the next half an hour, Ichigo took great pleasure in flashing biting scowls everywhere he went just to vindictively enjoy the deeply appalled expressions people shot his way every time.

The fun, however, died a quick, violent death when someone tried to dress him up in the most ridiculous orange frills Ichigo has ever encountered in his life. Apparently, from what frustrated mutters he could make out from the equally ridiculous stylist, the orange cloth matched splendidly with his ‘lovely’ orange hair.

Ichigo had never missed being called sherbert head or carrot top until that very moment.

Not that he’ll ever in a million years tell Renji that. The guy would lord it over his head until his deathbed. Maybe even after that. Who knows with that idiot.

After only a day in his company, the pompous woman finally gave up, no match to Ichigo’s legendary stubbornness.

“FINE!” She had shrieked, tossing the cloth in Ichigo’s scowling face with surprisingly good aim across the gigantic living room. “Dress like the-the barbarian you are! Don’t come crying to me when you finally realize you have no taste in fashion!”

“I won’t.” Ichigo had responded back in the driest tone possible. “Don’t forget that purple wig of yours. Don’t want everybody to know you’re actually a bald hag.”

“Such insolence! And its LAVENDER you imbecile!”

And that was basically how he lost his stylist. He wasn’t really losing any sleep over it.

Before Ichigo knew it, a few days already passed since he arrived in the acid colored city and Ichigo was already getting sick and tired of the color pink.

It was everywhere. Who in their fucking right mind decorated an entire apartment hot pink?

Insane, deluded people, he was starting to suspect.

Where was common sense when you needed it?

Somewhere in the heavens, fate was laughing at him. He just knew it.

And now, apparently, he was going to move in with some douchebag named Finnish or whatever. Considering the fact District 4 was what people would call a fishing community, he wouldn’t be surprised if that really was the guy’s name, which kinda sucked a lot.

So after a week since arriving in this insane new world, he ended up leaving the eye-sore monstrosity of an apartment with only the clothes on his back.

Good riddance.

Surprisingly, he discovered the main mode for transportation in this world were trains. Ichigo took note of this and the fact the technology here seemed more advanced in some retrospects than others. The improvements on media coverage, for example, was something he definitely wished he could do without. He was pretty sure everybody knew his face now.

The very thought filled him with distaste.

When he and the escort reached the train station heading for District 4, a man was waiting for them there. Ichigo was surprised to see how young he was, barely looking like he was in his twenties. Not only that, he was absurdly too pretty looking, everything about him meant to dazzle and blind people in his wake.

But what really took the cake was the utterly fake grin that enveloped the man’s expression, so empty and hollow that it hurt to look at him.

Ichigo instantly disliked him.

“Sir, this is Ichigo.” The escort introduced shortly, not bothering to introduce the other man. Probably because he thought Ichigo knew by now. “He is the charge Snow has left in your care.”

“Hi!” the bronze haired man held out his hand with a fixated, friendly grin on his face. Ichigo glanced around him to affirm to himself that yup, nobody seemed at all perturbed by the lack of sincerity the man was expressing. Everyone instead looked completely captivated by the charming young man, women practically swooning where they stood.

It made Ichigo sick.

“Stop it.” Ichigo barked out without even thinking about censoring himself. He just wanted the man to stop.

The young man’s expression faltered and rippled like a distorted lake, the grin falling away to be replaced by a mystified small smile, as if he didn’t know how else to respond.

“Stop what?” he sounded genuinely puzzled, which was a relief. Ichigo had almost thought the man was a robot with how mechanical that phony smile had been.

“Smiling. It’s creepy as fuck.” Ichigo stated, blunt as a brick.

The guy looked nonplussed. Clearly, he hadn’t expected his response.

The escort coughed, blushing when both pair of eyes zeroed in on him.

“Mr. Odair, the train will be leaving in two minutes.”

Odair blinked at that and damn smiled again, as if he couldn’t help his own reaction even when absolutely nothing about him was even remotely close to happy.

“Ah, thank you for the reminder! Come on, our seats are at the very back…”

Ichigo had the feeling this was going to be a really long train ride.

Notes: I’m on a roll today! And yeah, much less serious than the last snippet, but I hope people like this as much as I liked writing it. The humor was fun to play off. Thank you so much for the support and don’t stop the messaging or comments or reblogging. It’s the only thing keeping me going! This’ll probably be my last one for tonight. Please enjoy and tell me what you think!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6Part 7, Part 8, Part 9Part 10, Part 11Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

‘Season 4-drabble prompts’-Set #2

A/N: Not sure why this is working for the muse, but I’ve been around long enough not to question it. @hopedreamlovepray gives me three more numbers and I write three more little nuggets of fic. It’s a pretty good operation we’ve got going. Enjoy! And let me know what you think!

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