stuff you should know about

6

timmy’s secret wish is the worst episode of fairly oddparents i have ever seen :’D - forget about chloe or sparky or season 10 - this is the one where it turns out that timmy is actually 60 years old and cheated his way into never having to let go of his fairies - which results in cosmo and wanda losing Poof.

Naturally, all of this ends with Timmy getting his fairies, Poof and his youth back, without any permanent consequences or punishment whatsoever.

i cannot believe this ;____;

AU for 12x11

Sam hasn’t been blackout drunk for a couple of years, not since the night that he got Dean back from demonhood and put away nearly an entire bottle of Jack. That time he woke up face down in his pillows, fully clothed with his dislocated shoulder shooting violent bolts of pain down his spine. This time, he comes to with the sky wheeling white above him, his clothes damp and his knees muddy and twigs and leaves in his hair. He sits up, hauls himself to his feet and staggers forward a dozen yards or so to emerge onto a jogging track, a woman in bright lycra thudding past with headphones in her ears. His legs are bruised and aching and his mind is… fuck, so foggy, a great roiling cloud of nothingness, and he has to stop thinking about that right fucking now if he wants to stay calm. He runs his hands through his hair, dislodging a beetle and a shower of debris, tries to straighten up his clothes. He finds his phone in his pocket, the screen shattered and dead. Great. But the next woman down the track has a guy alongside her, a personal trainer maybe, so Sam steps forward hoping that he won’t intimidate them both away.

“Hey,” he says, hoarse. “Can I – I’m sorry. Can I borrow your phone?” 

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anonymous asked:

Do you have any headcanons of Damian acting like a regular child his age?

Well as a matter of fact!

  • He has a sweet tooth, which is awkward because Bruce doesn’t really do desserts, and Damian usually tries to emulate Bruce’s habits as much as possible. The upside is that the Manor does stock junk food. The downside is that it’s technically Tim’s food, and he’s starting to ask questions.
  • Chocolate milk and peanut butter and honey sandwiches 
  • Uses the blue kind of toothpaste because the mint stuff hurts his mouth. This information is classified and should not be passed on to the public.
  • Lowkey fascinated with anything that glows in the dark (Remember this. Important later.)
  • It’s not a blanket fort. It’s a hunting blind. Shut up.
  • Tugs on people’s capes to get their attention. Jackets work too. (But, Amy, you ask– What about Dick? He doesn’t wear a cape or a jacket!) You see it’s not a problem because Damian doesn’t need to get Dick’s attention. Grayson always pays attention.
6

HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEVE!

And because I really want everyone to be happy:

And also:

And of course:

(This totally works because in Marvel-verse, it only takes an hour to cross the Atlantic)

Here’s the previous Birthday Comics:

Other Cap3 fixit comics: FYOOSH and Clint solves everything, and Bucky hanging around with one arm

And as usual, you can find a lot of similar junk in my master post.  Or just clicking the mine tag.

Many apologies for the shitty drawing of T’Challa.  The king deserves better.

DA:I TRESPASSER SPOILERS BEYOND. YE BE WARNED.

I’ve successfully avoided major spoilers for Trespasser so far, except for one but it’s alright because I kind of found it inevitable and it was already my headcanon for my inquisitor anyways so thats fine anyway it’s the (seriously stop reading if you are avoiding all spoilers for Trespasser) fact that the Inquisitor loses their arm. And I’m losing my shit about it. In a good way. In an excellent way. In the best possible way.

Prosthetics, you guys. So many different kinds of prosthetics.

Mages with runes etched in to their hands, with focusing crystals embedded in to knuckles, with veins of lyrium literally at their fingertips.

Knight Enchanters whose Spirit Hilt is built directly in to their prosthetic. Who trained for hours and hours under the mantra of This blade is an extension of you. It is part of your body. It is part of your soul. Knight Enchanters who can now embrace that truth more literally, who modify their Spirit Hilt so that it runs the length of their prosthetic. So that the magic can come sweeping out in different shapes or forms–a slash of light running alongside their arm, a burst of energy in the form of a repelling shield, or the original swath of magic like a sword sprouting from their body.

Rift Mages who create a prosthetic of their own out of latent sympathetic magic. The powers of the Fade still whisper to them, still catch around their arm where flesh used to be in swirls and eddies, trying to embody what once was there, what memory still holds in fine detail. Rift Mages who have temporary prosthetics made out of condensed magic. Who cast Stone Fist quite literally now as their formed hand goes rocketing forward. Rift Mages who can curry the favor of small wisps and delicate spirits that will hover around their arm and perhaps hold a thing or two until it is needed.

Necromancers who stride in to battle and capture the spirit of fallen enemies in order to create an ethereal prosthetic that’s faster and stronger than any human hand. Raising the dead to guard their left flank because they are not so readily able to defend it now. Necromancers who know exactly what a raised corpse is capable of depending on its state of decay, on what it still has, on what it is missing–and who know exactly how much they are still capable of.

Rogues with weapons built in to their forearms. Crossbows easily winched and fired. Static hands that can hold a bow steady.

Artificers who well know how to make, and maintain an articulated prosthetic–just as delicate as any one of their carefully spun traps. Artificers who embed their prosthetics with traps, who make little compartments full of dangerous things. Rogues who rig their prosthetics as a last resort, leaving it behind to explode and rain hell on unsuspecting enemies.

Assassins who hide deadly poisons in the spiked fingertips of their prosthetics. Who store terrible venoms in small vials carefully slotted in to the thing. Assassins who use the fact that their enemies will underestimate the false hand–see it as a weakness and a liability. Assassins who play that to their advantage, use it to strike when it’s least expected. Assassins with retractible blades hidden in the wrist in such a way that would make Ezio envious.

Tempest rogues who coat their arrows with concoctions embedded in their arms. Who can release compressed smoke from hidden compartments. Fast. Chaotic. Pulling one alchemical mystery after the next out of thin air, rigging their prosthetics like the Artificers do–except this one explodes with fire and ice and fury.

Warriors with heavy-wrough prosthetics to suit their more aggressive fighting style.

Champions who have shields latched on to their arm–quick release built in, in case of emergencies. Who can throw their entire body in to a shield blow, because the shield is part of them now. Champions with prosthetics of gilded silver and gold that can be raised, gleaming to catch the light and inspire defiance in the face of overwhelming odds. Champions with prosthetics that are essentially an extension of their armor, throwing their arm forward to take the blow that would have slain a friend, and continuing fearlessly where their flesh would’ve other wise been torn asunder.

Reavers with prosthetics embedded with spikes. With rivulets carved so that streams of blood flow along it with grotesque ease. Reavers with prostetics permenantly stained with the blood of each enemy felled, who can work themselves in to the beginning of a frenzy by scenting the blood that has seeped so deeply in to the limb. Reavers who charge on ever further, ever more enraged if the prosthetic is damaged–their fury only fueled by its destruction.

Templars who–like mages–have lyrium imbued in to their prosthetic, and may call upon it when it is needed. Templars who have etched their crest or passage from the Chant in to their new limb. Templars who summon the Wrath of Heaven with their glowing prosthetic, lifting it to the air as the lyrium in it burns and sizzles, and then slamming it down with the pillar of light like the fist of the Maker himself. 

SO MUCH ROOM FOR CREATIVITY HOLY SHIT.

So that new Camp Camp trailer dropped . . .

And you know, it’s be super weird if someone went through and screenshot every second their favorite character was on screen, especially when they’re a minor character no one else gives a shit about. What a ridiculous waste of time who would ever bother to do 

TOO LATE GUYS I ALREADY DID IT 

HERE IS MY DAUGHTER HER NAME IS GWEN AND I LOVE HER SHE IS PERFECT AND ADORABLE PLEASE TREAT HER WITH KINDNESS AND RESPECT

(and no I couldn’t get rid of the title bar just deal with it)

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The Letter

‘If your reading this I must be dead.
Sounds so real when I actually write it like that, it’s a possibility after all. I mean this is a war. People die all the time and I guess it was my time and I’m gone.
If I’m not and you guys find this then stop reading.
There’s some things that are just rude and you should know not to go through people’s stuff.
I’m talking about you Pidge.
So if your still reading this…
I’m dead or your an ass hole (Keith).
So let’s start I guess.
I lance McLain being of sound mind and body write my last will and testament.

To Hunk. What could I possibly leave you that could even come close to repaying all you’ve done for me over the years? For all those times you talked me down at the Garrison and made sure I didn’t spend too much time alone with only my thoughts. I love buddy so I leave you my family. If I’m gone I need them to know what happened. I need them to know I did something with my life, that I made a difference.
To Pidge you little gremlin, I leave you the tree house I built in my backyard. I know you pretend to hate outdoors, but I’ve seen how you love to watch the trees, figured you’d appreciate getting one of your own and being able to connect to the wifi.
To Shiro. You were my hero, when I wanted to apply to Garrison everyone told me I couldn’t do it. That I was too stupid or too much of a screw up to make anything of myself. Watching you on the news actually go against the odds and become the youngest graduate ever… well it kept the dream alive and got me through some pretty dark times. To you I leave my sketch book. It’s filled with drawings of earth. Drawing really helped ground me when I felt too anxious to sleep, I’m sure you know what that’s like. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that actually hears you wandering the halls late at night. I hope that drawing can help you as much as it did me.
To Allura… look I know I flirted with you a lot, I’m sorry for that… I know I must sounded like such an idiot and a creep. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better paladin or friend. I leave you all my beauty products. That may sound like I only value your looks but I respect you so much for all you’ve done trying to fight this war with only the six of us as back up. I guess I’m trying to ask you to have a treat now and again, take as good a care of yourself as you do with us .
To Coran, your probably one of the biggest reasons I didn’t end up wallowing in self pity the whole time I was here. I don’t really remember my dad. He left when I was too young to remember him. But the time I spent with you made me feel like I knew what a dad was and I love you for that. I leave you the box under my bed. I filled it with memorabilia from all the good times we all spent together. Please keep adding to it and keep having good times without me.
Finally to Keith. Bet you thought I’d forgotten about you, hey Mullet? I’m not really sure what to write. We’ve been through so much together that I just don’t have the words to tell you how I feel. I just wish I had the courage to tell you that I really care about you while I was still around. Tell you that I love you. Wow that was scary to write. But getting it out and knowing that some point in the future you’ll know this is oddly liberating, like a weights been lifted off my shoulders. So yeah Mullet I love you. I love you so much that it hurts knowing that no matter what I do, I’ll never be good enough for you. You deserve the best, you deserve the universe… because that’s what you are to me. To you I leave you the most important thing to me. Blue. I love her dearly and I know she’s gonna be sad without me, so please keep her company. She likes songs from Mama Mia and having her claws painted, I know you know will get on great.
Wow I didn’t expect to start crying while I wrote this. Putting it all in words is hard. It’s beyond hard knowing that there’s a possibility that one day I’ll be gone and you’ll just move on. That someone else will pilot Blue and take over as a paladin for me.
I just wish that our time together would never end and I would never have to say goodbye to any of you.
But despite what you guys think, I’m not an idiot. I know I’m the weakest link and that if anyone’s gonna end up dying in the line the duty it will probably end up being me.
I suppose that doesn’t matter anymore.
What matters is that you all know that your like a second family to me and that I love you all so, so much.
Goodbye.
-Lance xxx’

—————————————-

Lance put down the pen wiping his teary eyes as he read through what he had written. He had just gotten out of the healing pod after being shot in the chest by a Glara guard during a mission gone bad.
Coming that close to death made him realise that he didn’t want to just go without knowing the people he loved knew how much he cared about.

There was a soft knocking at the door “hey Lance dinners ready” Hunk called.
“Be there in a minuet.” Lance replied folding the page and hiding the letter under his bed resting on top of his memory box. He opened the door and smiled at Hunk who took in his puffy red eyes and didn’t hesitate to give the smaller paladin a hug. “Homesick bud?”
Lance chuckled glancing back at the letter “yeah… something like that.”

youtube

How to work with facial expressions

quick little video for a friend of mine on how to make facial expressions for s4 poses in blender but first things first, 

—Knowing your shortcut keys in Blender—
just some basic stuff you should know about so it’ll b easier 4 u.
kay, here’s some shortcuts to maneuver your rig around.

R: to reset selected parts of the rig
A+R: to reset the whole rig
A key: select/deselect all
Shift+mouse wheel: to move around your view
Shirt+right click: to select multiple dots
R: rotate (you’ll use this one very very often)
G: moving the rig/selected dot around
G+Z: moving the rig/selected dot vertically
G+X: moving the rig/selected dot horizontally
G+Y: moving the rig/selected dot back and forth
CTRL+ALT+Q: quad view (useful!! 4 when u wanna c your pose in all angles)
Mouse/scroll wheel: to rotate the whole thing and view around blender
Right click: to select that dot thing (it’ll turn blue to indicate that it’s selected)

There’s also a lil green thing on the left part of the screen showing you guys what I was pressing at that time so you’ll roughly know. make sure you have your item tab from the right panel on!

okay so you basically just keep right-clicking the eye part, it will show you which one is selected from the item tab. i just thought I’ll include the shortcut for u guys lol. anyway that’s it!

Once you’re happy with you pose; press A to select all the dots (your rig’s dot will turn all blue) then press L and select LOC ROT. ONLY AFTER you’ve done that; you can save as your pose! you gotta do this ‘cos if you don’t, your pose won’t be saved at all and it’ll just go back to the default one. save n you’re done ❤️

a-taller-tale  asked:

I'm tipsy. Talk to me about Tucker's fear of failure.

HEY TIPSY I AM ALSO TIPSY

Tucker’s whole deal of ‘whatever I’m not even gonna engage in or outwardly care about this thing that I’m not confident in!!’ thing at the start is really telling of someone who doesn’t like to do things they can’t ace (even if doing it is a necessary precursor for acing it). He says “I’m a lover not a figther” while being IN THE ARMY. Maybe he’s excellent in bed who knows but he sure makes an effort to have that rep, going as far as to video tape things in order to see ‘what works and what doesn’t (not a direct quote that’s why it’s ‘ and not “ I don’t remember what he said but sth like that I think?) 
You know people who say “okay but I’m REALLY BAD AT DRAWING” before they do their round in pictionary? and people who try really hard at this one thing and then brag about it to the point where they’re “that one person who does X thing”? Yeah thats what I mean.
NeverMIND that when he’s trhust into a role of needing to do things he’s not used to bc he has no choice, his failure has devastating effects for him, which is bad enough even when you aren’t a person who already feels like every mistake is devastating. 

When We Collide (Part 14)

Pairing: Assistant!Y/N/CEO!Luke

Rating: NC-17

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Summary: He is the definition of high class smart ass, swimming in Dom Pierre Pérignon champagne and has never seen the shadow of poverty. She is underprivileged, lives in a messy dorm room on sale and struggles working as an assistant after being thrown out of college. But how will they collide when Luke makes Y/N pregnant after a drunkenly one night stand?

When We Collide on Wattpad

“Cutest couple in Hollywood? My ass!” You commented loudly and looked down at the magazine in your hands, you wondered why you had even decided to invest money in it in the first place.

Your feet were resting on top of your desk while the icon of Tetris was still on your computer screen, but it was paused and your full attention was on the large front page in front of you.

“It’s all just a freaking joke.” You leaned over to grab your mug to take a sip of your almost cold tea, it had been standing there for too long and definitely not helping on your angry mood.

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anonymous asked:

Hey I just wanted to ask something. It's always been known that Hephaestus is ugly, but is that really true because I've actually checked texts and it doesn't really SAY he was ugly very clearly. So was he actually ugly provided by text or was it something made up in modern day?

[I apologize if any language used in the following post is disturbing in any way. I am using terminology from sources that may be outdated and referencing historical atrocities which can be upsetting. Please proceed with due caution. Referenced: infanticide, lame and crippled as descriptors for disabled people]

I’m going off the top of my head here but I’m 99% certain he wasn’t ugly–his statues were about the same level of beauty as the other gods–but the “ugly” description is probably linked to the fact he is a lame god (his crippled leg/foot, depending on the myth).

The ancient Greeks were, uh….pretty terrible towards people with disabilities. The history of infanticide spans hundreds of years in Greece and it was mostly noted (as far as we can tell) in terms of “unfit” babies. Fit, healthy people were considered beautiful and so in simplistic terms, those who were not fit and not healthy were not beautiful. There are exceptions* but that was the general idea. The reason why he was called ugly got lost along the way but the ugly descriptor stuck for some reason.

*Exceptions are what led to the evolution of a more egalitarian society! Also, a lot of the Panhellenic cults (like the Elysian mysteries) spread so far because they were more accepting to a wide range of people.

And this wasn’t a belief held by everyone of the time. Hephaestus was clearly a loved god. He was just mostly worshiped by the working class (which is why it can be hard to find information about him and his cults! For instance he’s the patron god of Lemnos and they had festivals and such but for whatever reason never built big displays to him). There’s actually some historians who believe a higher percentage of disabled people would work crafts because it was seen as acceptable because the god of workman was disabled himself. I haven’t seen strong proof one way or another but it’s an interesting thought.

Hello || Joe (pt 2)

Joe masterpost found here

Word count - 1,524

Summary - The one after the drunken honesty.

(part 1)

-

You were awake long before Joe was. Worried that Joe may wake up with no recollection of the night before, you had him sleep in your bed while you stayed on the couch. Sure, it had you tossing and turning all night, but you thought that was better than waking up to Joe’s confused and hungover face.

As soon as the sun started to peek through your windows, you were out of bed. You made yourself a cup of coffee and walked out to your porch, dragging a blanket out with you. You sat on your patio couch, tucking your feet underneath you and pulling the blanket over your lap. You were dressed in shorts and a jumper, and with a blanket covering your legs, you were quite comfortable in the brisk March air.

While your body was comfortable, your mind was going mad. Would Joe remember anything when he woke up? Was he drunkenly rambling the night before, or did he really feel the way he expressed? Did you want him to remember? What would happen if he did remember? You weren’t sure you wanted any of those questions to be answered.

Of course though, they had to be. Joe had woken up and was now sitting beside you, a coffee cup in his own hands. “I helped myself,” he mumbled. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “Did you find the Advil?”

“Same drawer as always,” he said back. You nodded, staring back off into the skyline. The sun was still rising. “I’m sorry I called you,” he said, breaking the silence between you. “That was wrong.”

“You were drunk,” you said. “I understand.” You paused, taking a sip of your coffee. Joe did so as well. “Do you remember what happened?” you asked quietly.

“Some of it,” he mumbled, his lips still close to his mug. He took another sip. “Enough to know that we should talk about some stuff.”

You stared down at your coffee cup, your heart beating too fast for your liking. “I don’t know what there is to talk about,” you lied blatantly. 

“Can you just,” Joe sighed. “For a few minutes, can you just knock your walls down, just long enough for us to talk?” You sighed, still avoiding eye contact completely with Joe. “You said you still love me,” he said gently. You finally willed yourself to look at him to see that his blue eyes were already staring at you.

You snorted, “That much you remember.”

“(Y/N),” Joe sighed. “Please.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you mumbled.

“Tell me that I heard you right,” he was almost begging now. “Tell me that you still love me.” You sighed, looking down at your mug again.

“Yeah, I still love you,” you said quietly, thinking back to your phone conversation with him the night before. “You’re kind of hard to let go of.”

You still wouldn’t look up at Joe. You stared at the small amount of coffee still swirling at the bottom of your mug as if it was more interesting than the sun slowly rising in the sky. Suddenly, you felt Joe’s hand on top of yours, rubbing his thumb on your skin. It was as if you had gone back in time, remembering all of the moments you had sat with him on his balcony, talking about random things, counting the stars in the sky, fighting and then making up. And then the proposal where you handed him back the ring you couldn’t take and walked out of his life.

In that instant, you started crying. Tears were rolling down your cheeks and you were crying almost silently. You had walked away from the best thing that ever happened to you for what? Safety? Security? Assurance that he could never leave you if you left him first? “You know,” you finally said, sniffing whilst trying to control your tears, “my grandpa left my grandpa when I was 5. And my dad left my mom when I was 12. I just, the man has walked out of every marriage I’ve ever seen. I could be in a relationship with you because I convinced myself that we were safe as long as we never got married. Then, well then you proposed and all I could see was my 12 year old self sitting on the couch with my mom while she tried to explain to me what she meant by Dad’s not coming back. I felt like I was drowning in the outcomes of every marriage that I’ve ever seen fail. I didn’t want that to be us.”

Joe continued to just rub your arm with his thumb. He didn’t make any moves closer to you, not wanting to break down another wall when you didn’t yet want him to. “You could’ve talked to me,” he said quietly. “I thought you stopped loving me. It fucked me up so bad, (Y/N).”

“I know,” you said, covering your face with your hands. Your breath was shaky and you felt tears on your face again. The guilt you had been carrying was so heavy, the weight of it was finally crashing down on you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Joe said quietly, pulling your hands away from your face. His eyes locked with yours and you instantly felt a sense of relief. His eyes always had a way of doing that to you. “You still breathing, yeah?” he said, his thumb resuming the gentle rub on your arm. “You’re alright. You’re alright.” You nodded, sniffing again to compose yourself.

“I’m just so sorry,” you repeated. “I can see it in your eyes that you’re tired. You look sickly, Joe.” And it was true. The bags under his eyes were horrendous and his skin looked pale. He looked even thinner than usual, like he hadn’t been eating properly in months. “Joe when was the last time you ate something?”

“I eat,” he said defensively.

“Like a meal, Joe,” you said.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, brushing some hair out of his face. “This isn’t about me right now.”

“Joseph you’re not well!” you said sternly. “I don’t like this.” Your thumbs brushed across his face, under his eyes and to his temples. He immediately closed his eyes at your touch. “This is my fault, isn’t it?”

“I’m alright,” he said, his voice small.

“You’re lying,” you said. “I can hear it in your voice.”

Joe sighed, “I told you last night that I just, I don’t know how to be over you. I was bad and then I was okay and now I feel empty again. I’m trying so hard, (Y/N), you gotta know that.” He paused, forcing a smile on his face again, “You’re doing good though, yeah?”

“No, I’m not,” you said firmly, your words slightly shocking you. This was the first time you actually admitted this to yourself, let alone to Joe. “No, I’m not doing good. I let go of the one person who could put up with me because I was afraid. And now, well now I just feel sad all the time. I feel sad and alone and I want to call someone to tell them how I feel but the only person I can think to call is you. I love you. I love you so fucking much that it’s killing me right now to see you like this. If I could take all your pain and put it on my shoulders, I would. Because I’m the one who deserves it. I’m the one who hurt you so I should be suffering. I just want everything to go back to how it was because I have never been happier than during those three years when I was with you. So no Joe, I’m not good. I feel empty and I’m trying to fill myself back up but there’s a hole in my heart and it’s shaped a whole lot like you and I can’t fill that back up on my own.”

Joe pressed his lips against yours so quickly, you almost jumped. The feeling was so familiar, though, that you instantly relaxed and kissed him back. His hands were on your face and yours were around his neck, loving the way his hair felt against your finger tips again. You weren’t sure who pulled away from the kiss, but when you did, your foreheads stayed pressed up against each others. “I’m so in love with you,” Joe whispered. “And we don’t have to get married. Not right now. Not ever if you don’t want to.”

“I want to get married, Joe,” you said. “Maybe not right now, but I will marry you. I will. I really will.” Joe smiled and for the first time in a while, it actually made his eyes light up like they used to. With his lips centimeters away from yours, you could feel him smile again.

“Well, I’m glad I kept that ring then.”

And as the sun came up over the horizon, a new day began and the Earth got a fresh start. So did your relationship with Joe.

A Matter of Understanding

Characters/Pairing: Dean x Reader, Jake (OC)

Word count: 760

Warnings: Bit of angst but not really

Summary: Dean feels guilt and remorse about a previous fight with the reader.

A/N: This is my entry for @d-s-winchester ​ 4k Celebration Bon Jovi Challenge, Song Prompt: Misunderstood 

I wanna thank K (  @getyourrocksalt) for the beta work and the boots! If you’re not already, make sure to follow her!

[Feedback’s the best way to show your love]

A Matter of Understanding


Should I? Could I?
Have said the wrong things right a thousand times

The loose gravel crackles under the tires while the car goes up the driveway and gradually comes to a stop. Dean sighs, both hands still on the wheel. He stares at the board and beyond licking his lips before pulling then with sharp teeth into his mouth. With eyes closed lifts his head, facing the cream leather upholstery. Right hand finally turns the key and shutting the engine down.

He’s been going over and over that argument inside his head. At first he was sure of everything that happened, he was right, you were the irrational one!

But then, as time passed by he realized maybe he was the one making no sense. Clenching his jaw he remembers the way you force the tears back failing miserably when a simple blink forced them to roll down your cheeks. At the moment he thought it was all part of your strategy but they were real, he knows better now and his heart aches.

With the back of his hand Dean wipes off some sweat and then rubs his brow. Kicking himself mentality, how could he be so stupid?

Opening his eyes he finally focuses on the house and sees you through one of the windows.

He watches you in detail. The contour of your face beyond the thin curtains, the way you move around and he notices you smiling because you’re happy.That’s all he ever wanted, even though it was him who stumble in the way, he always wished for you to be happy.

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DO YOU LIKE PODCASTS!?! LOOKING FOR NEW ONES THEN THIS IS FOR YOU!(Also all of them are free)


Education

 The History Chicks: Most episodes are around 45-90 minutes long. Occasionally has minicasts ranging from 7-40 minutes long. Talks about underrated(or overrated women) in history.

 Stuff You Missed in History Class: Most episodes are around 31-34 minutes. One of my favorite history podcasts! As the title suggests it talks about obscure(underrated) moments in history.  

Planet Money: Most episodes are around 15-28 minutes long. Do you think economics is boring? Then this podcast will change your mind! Dwells on topic such as the origins of fondue(Apparently there’s was a CHEESE MAFIA), oil, the zoo economy, answers questions such “Does immigration ruin the economy?”, and much more!

  StarTalk Radio: Hosted by the one and only Neil deGrasse Tyson!! Episodes usually range from around 50-60 minutes. Perfect if you love SPACE!!!However talks about,”What if our reality is a simulation?”,”The science of zombies”, and interviews scientisits, comedians, or sci-fi writers.

Stuff You Should Know: Usually around 47-65 minutes. This podcast talks about obscure stuff you should know. The topic varies with each episode, some examples, “How Porta-Potties Work?”, “How Dictators Work?”, and “The Black Panther Party”.

 Myths and Legends: Usually around 30-45 minutes Talks around various folklore from around the world(such as Native American stories, Japanese, Korean, and many more!)  not just European ones. However it could use some more diverse stories. 

 TEDTalks: Varies between speaker. Most are inspirational and insightful.

 Unfilter: Talks about what you don’t hear on the news often. Around 90-120 minutes long.

Clockwise: Around 30 minutes. Talks about current technology issues. Two permanent hosts, and two guest host each talking about four different tech. topics.

CoffeeBreak Spanish: Short, sweet, and simple but each episode is divided into seasons(levels). Around 15 minutes

Entainment: 

  The Black Tapes: A paranormal dracudrama. Around 39-47 minutes. A journalist named Alex Reagan who meets a ghost hunter named Dr.Strand who doesn’t believe in ghosts. She attempts to find out the solution to his mysterious cases contained in his black tapes and to unravel him.

 Welcome to Night Vale: Y’ll probably heard of it already

ProZD + Pals: Around 60 minutes. ProZD usually talks about pop culture, and food(sometimes this podcast will make you hungry), and interviews people such as Kira Buckland and LitterKuriboh.(Y’ll should check it his YT channel it’s really funny. 

 The Adventure Zone: Around 60 minutes. DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS! A bunch of siblings and their father playing the game. (Do it for Taako!)

 LifeAfter: Drama. 20-34 minutes. 

Limetown:Short, and about a journalist trying to find out what happened to Limetown. 

The NoSleep Podcast: Around 60 minutes. Horror stories. You won’t be able to sleep. 

   I like to listen to podcasts when I’m doing nonthing producative, to help me fall asleep,drawing, walking to school, or while studying.  Most of the stuff I listen to is educational though, because I really hate it when I’m doing nonthing. Please message me, if you have any podcasts to recommend! 

“Because I love you god damn it!”

Request: Number 37 with Finn when he’s being overprotective

Prompt: #37 “Because I love you god damn it!”

Ch: Finn Shelby


Finn’s eyes darted at Tommy, slight anger behind his baby features. Tommy was chatting you up, making you smile and laugh as he was foresaken to drink alone. Finn was wonderstruck about what could be so funny. You knew the Shelbys for what was 18 years, your whole life. Finn was who you were most close too, the other boys looked over you as if you were a lost sister of some kind.

“Aye Finn, what’s with the silk?” John laughs, mentioning him over, Finn just shakes his head. taking another sip of his beer. “Finn.” You smile, spinning to face him. “Why aren’t you joining us?”

“Don’t feel like dealing with my brothers.” Simple answer that was flatly given to you. You frown, hand pressing to his cheek. “You’re angry.”

Finn shakes his head, face softening due to the touch, the touch he longs for only many lonely lights. “I’m fine love.” His voice is soft, his hand covering yours on his cheek. “Just don’t think you should be involved with all this stuff.”

You smile, knowing he’s worried about you. “Finn I will be fine.” He grumbles, turning back to face the bar. You let a giggle fall, taking his hand, tugging him to the floor. “Dance with me.” 

Finn smirked, intertwining your hands together. “I couldn’t have a better dance partner.” Truth is he hated dancing, but loved seeing that smile on your face. Loved his arms being wrapped around you.


“Absolute fucking not.” Finn crushed the cigarette on the wooden table. You rolled your eyes. “Good think it’s not your choice.”

In a fit of rage, he slammed the chair in, his fist hitting the brick wall, blood splattered against the wall, and his knuckles, blood dripping as he stormed out of the house.

“Finn!” You cry, trying to catch up to him, but he was just to fast. “Finn please, I can’t breath!” Finn stopped right in his tracks, fist clenched, scarlet blood dipping.

“Finn why do you care so much?” You mumble,stepping closer to him, but stop about five feet away from him.

“Because I love you god damn it!” Finn’s hands reached your cheek, pulling you close. His lips met passionately with yours, the kiss heated, his tongue softly caressing yours. Blood now covered your cheeks, Finn pulled back, sighing, he takes his sleeve wiping, and chuckling to himself. 

You press your lips against his, Finn letting out a small celebration moan. “I love you Finn, always have.”

anonymous asked:

I want you to read a thing I wrote but it got no notes and I love your writing and you're just !!!! and afjndl;gnjbgb

oh my goodness dude first of all i am far more ?????? than i am !!!!! like genuinely i promise i’m just a regular old nerd 

second of all pal i’m sure i would love to read your stuff like i’m crazy behind still from being gone for a month but i love seeing all the insane talent that goes on around here !!

third of all i wanna give you a little bit of advice that you didn’t ask for because that’s just who i am as a person i guess. i know it can be hard to not fixate on notes, trust me i know, but it’s also important to remember that just because you don’t have a ton of followers or people aren’t reblogging your thing, it doesn’t mean that it’s not good.

the fact that you’re writing and POSTING it??? like that ALONE is incredible do you know how much courage it takes to put your art out there?? it’s crazy hard and people that don’t do it don’t understand that and thus don’t always give you the recognition you deserve for putting yourself out there like that. 

at the end of the day, you gotta write for you and no one else. when it starts feeling like you’re doing it for other people instead of because this is a thing you enjoy or that you have fun doing or that brings you some sort of fulfillment, take a step back and remind yourself why you started. write something just for you, write something you’ve been putting off bc you don’t think anyone will read it, maybe just take a break from writing altogether!

ultimately, try to work towards being in a place where the notes don’t matter, and that you can just be proud of what you’re making bc my dude you SHOULD be proud. you’re amazing and you’re making stuff and I’M proud of that.

okay that’s it for the unwanted advice for tonight sorry y’all bye.