she may just be my spirit animal

Pros and Cons of Spider-Man: Homecoming

-Realistic school setting with kids of all nationalities
-MJ is my spirit animal
-No love triangle!
-No kiss!
-Popular girl isn’t a bitch
-Really good twist that you didn’t see coming because you weren’t looking for it
-PERFECT ending line (Aunt May doesn’t know Peter is Spidey, so at the end he’s standing in his room wth his mask off and hit suit on, and you see Aunt May in the doorway, and she just goes “WHAT THE F–” before it cuts to credits)
-Constant reminders that Peter is still just a 15-year-old boy and is waaay too young to deal with all this saving the world shit
-He is a true hero and will make sure the bad guy isn’t killed even though the bad guy made a building collapse on him
-Said bad guy didn’t reveal who Spidey really was in prison because Spidey saved his life
-Spidey literally gave an old lady directions and got a churro from her and he didn’t view that as a low point in his day at all
-Both Peter and his actor are a smol cinnamon roll
-And there are like a ton more that I’ll think of later

-MJ doesn’t get enough screen time
-No mention of Uncle Ben AT ALL
-We never heard what music Peter listened to on his headphones


I love her so much honestly I didn’t think it was possible to like someone so fast before, to me she’s my whole world but to her I’m just another fan but that’s ok because she may not know me but she loves me because she loves her fans and no matter what I will always fuckin support her cause she’s my fuckin spirit animal and she’s goals also she’s the reason I’m so confident so thank you enya te amo mucho 😘💕 enjajaja


This is for an anon request for a Requiem AU:  Starts at Requiem- Scully is taken and pregnant and it’s Mulder looking for her again. Read part One  part Two  part Three  part Four  part Five  part Six  part Seven part Eight  part Nine  part Ten  part Eleven  part Twelve  part Thirteen  part Fourteen part Fifteen  part Sixteen   part Seventeen  part Eighteen  part Nineteen  part Twenty

This part was also written during @txf-fic-write-in for the life before 1993 challenge.


Westaway opens the door for them. The morgue is surprisingly noisy. Alive. Mulder stops.

              “Agent Mulder?” Westaway lays a hand on his shoulder. “Fox? If you need a moment, we can take our time.”

              The use of his first name. Coming from a man, it’s strange. He blinks. Westaway is touching him. It feels odd. He makes himself breathe. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

When Samantha had been missing for three years, his parents got a call from the local sheriff. His father answered the phone, cigarette burning bright in the darkened hallway. Mulder sat at the top of the stairs. He’d been studying Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, but needed a break. Then the phone rang. His mother was already in bed, but he heard the floor of her room creaking and she walked past him, wearing the long white robe he always thought made her look like a ghost floating down the stairs.

“Go back to your room, Fox.” She turned back to him from the bottom of the stairs, after his father had given her a steely look and shaken his head.

Mulder shifted away from the landing, hiding in the shadows of the tallboy against the wall. He heard the strange note in his father’s voice. The clipped tone, the crack in his voice when he said good-bye. He snuck forward, looking through the banisters at his mother’s ashen face. Even more ghostly now in the half-light. She pressed a handkerchief to her mouth, sniffed into it, and began a kind of muffled keening, rhythmic in its desperation. His father stood still, shoulders back, chin upright, cigarette ash dropping to the floor. He said something in a gruff, low voice that Mulder couldn’t hear. He didn’t hold his mother, offer her any comfort. He simply moved past her, took his jacket from the coat stand and left the house.

Mulder heard the car engine start up and the tyres crunch down the driveway. His mother’s low moaning became louder and he trod down the stairs to the kitchen where she was sitting on her chair, head in her hands, shoulders shuddering.

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Go back to bed, Fox.” She stood up, the chair scraping over the flagstone floor. She ran a glass of water for herself and sat back down. She looked to the window, with its lacy net and frilly blind. Mulder hated the floral pattern, so garish. But the light beyond, from the street, seemed to dull it down, so that the colours muted and fused. He saw faces, not flowers. He saw gargoyle grins and empty eye sockets. He blinked and turned away.

“Where’s dad gone?”

“Go to sleep, Fox. It’s late.”

“You can’t keep me in the dark all the time, Mom. If this is something to do with Samantha, don’t you think I deserve to know?”

She looked at him through her red-rimmed eyes, heavy with tears still to fall. She looked so old these days. Like the weight of the past three years had dragged and scratched against her skin. “There are some things you don’t need to know, son.”

“That’s not fair, Mom. She was my sister. I miss her too.” He slammed the table and the salt and pepper shakers jumped and fell, spilling crystals over the pine surface. The mingled together, black and white, and he saw the faces again, cruel smiles. He spread his hand over the mess and wiped through it.

His mother stood and got a cloth the wipe it away. “Your father has been called to identify a body. A young girl’s remains were found earlier this week.”

“Do you think it’s her? Does Dad?”

She wiped her hands on a clean tea towel and looked at him. “This isn’t the first time we’ve been through this.”

He hadn’t known. And he hadn’t really entertained the thought of her being dead. But of course, logically, with three years of nothing, no news, no sightings, no leads, of course she could be dead. Sickly dread crawled through his veins. The muscles in his neck tightened and he felt nauseous. He felt stupid. How could he be so dumb?

“What will you do if it is her?”

His mom actually laughed then, a sad laugh into her hanky. “We’ll start to live again.”

He shook his head, not understanding her callousness. “How could you say that?”

“This family has stood still. In three years we’ve been stuck in a bog of sadness and loss, of desperation and being afraid to move on. What if we left this house? Where would Samantha go if she ever came back? How would she find us? What if we have a memorial service to celebrate her life? But if she’s not dead, what a wicked thing that would be. What if we give her clothes to the goodwill? You can’t do that, she might come back,” she spat out the words. “What use would her clothes be to her? She’d be eleven now – on the verge of womanhood. But we can’t make any changes, Fox. No. We have to keep still, stay the same.”

He hung his head, burning tears welling over.

“Your sister is gone, Fox. I accepted that early on. We may never know how or why or where. But she is gone. And I want to move on. But your father…he can’t, he won’t. I know this sounds cruel, but I really hope it is her. I want it to be her. I need it to be her.”

He hated her for that. Hated her for wishing his sister dead. “I don’t. I think she’s out there. I want to find her. Don’t you want to find her?”

“You’re so like your father, Fox.”

“I’m nothing like him.”

“He chose your name.”

“It’s a fucking stupid name. I hate it.”

“Fox, watch your mouth!”

“You named me after a hunter, a cunning predator, a feral animal. And yet you gave my sister a symbolic name - the name of God. What do you think that does to me?”

She reached across the table and grabbed his hands. Hers were surprisingly warm. “You know that as a spirit animal the fox has increased awareness, is quick in tricky situations, has excellent physical and mental responsiveness and an affinity with dreams. Your father always said your name came to him in a dream. Just like Samantha’s did. You may not know it, but your father has always been in touch with his spiritual side. He says it keeps him from crossing the line.”

Mulder pulled his hands away. “I hate it. I fucking hate my name.”

“It’s yours, Fox. It’s what we gave you. A special name for a special boy.”

“I’m nothing special,” he said, heading back to his room. “Samantha is the special one.”

Westaway lets him go first and he is conscious of the younger man’s footfalls behind him. He turns away before the ME pulls back the sheet from the body.

              “It’s not her,” he says.

              “How do you know? He hasn’t shown you the face yet,” Westaway says.

              “I just do.”

              Westaway enters the room. Mulder can hear the ME’s terse voice and Westaway’s calming responses.

The drive back is silent. Westaway is desperate to ask, but won’t. Mulder is grateful.

              “What’s your first name?”

              Westaway chuckles. “We’ve been working together for a while, and you still don’t know?”

              Mulder shrugs. Traffic is heavy. The fog is rolling in. He squeezes his eyes shut against the faces that form in the grey.

              “John. God is gracious. Has been one of the most popular male names for centuries. I guess I’m just boring. Not like you. Your name is pretty special.”

              Mulder opens his eyes and smiles at the agent. “She wasn’t pregnant.”


              “The Jane Doe. You asked me how I knew. She wasn’t pregnant.”

              Westaway grips the wheel and drives on.

Christen Press - the happiest person on earth.  


Just popped the ball up in the air in the box. Smiling.


Asking for the ball at midfield. Smiling.


Appealing to the ref for a foul. Smiling.

I could post like thirty more just like this from the same game. 

SEA vs CHI | May 22, 2016


the year of hexterah’s house of hotties: May 20th
Naoto Shirogane (video game - Persona 4)

MY DETECTIVE PRINCE. I love Naoto so much. One of the things I love the most about her is her I-don’t-have-time-for-any-shit attitude. Do you see those screenshots where she basically calls the gang dumb for being fake drunk? Do you see her winning expression as she does this? Have I mentioned how much I love Naoto? There are so many moments during the course of Persona 4 where she is my spirit animal. I just want to reach in the screen and be all, “There, there. I know your pain, tiny fabulous detective.”

(Also, her and Kanji’s interactions GIVE ME LIFE.)

plot twist lance hunter’s ex wife was actually a demonic hell beast. one day the team was in the laundry room doing the weekly laundry thing. lance’s ex wife literally rose out of the ground in a cloud of ash and smoke. words could never describe the absolute terror of looking at her. she yelled at lance for at least thirty seconds straight- in an odd combination of the growling of a hungry animal, and the wailing of a tormented spirit. fitz, god bless his soul, may have fainted. lance just sighed- “you came all the way from hell to insult my folding skills? seriously?” his ex wife winked at everyone with her one good eye and then melted back into the floor, leaving nothing but a dark stain. lance simply muttered a few curses under his breath and continued “folding” his shirts. when the rest of the team rushed to report the incident, it was discovered that the security footage had mysteriously cut out, so no one could ever prove what happened. to this day, generations of new shield recruits are tentative to do their laundry alone, as all fear the stories. the legend of the haunted laundry room lives on.