the faucet

Sorry if it's a wee bit long, this seemed to best method of sending it. Whaddya think?

vitalpen submitted:

“Why don’t you just KILL me and get it over with?”

“Huh?  Kill you?”  The toon dropped his smile for just a moment.  Was this real?  Had those words actually just been said?  The giggles came first.  Then the giggles graduated to chuckles, then laughter, then guffaws, and finally full blown cackles. They echoed around the two endlessly, soaking them both in just how funny it was.

When finally, finally, Bendy had gotten it all out and the aftershock wave of giggles had passed, he rubbed the tears from his eyes.  “Oh, Henry, you’re a RIOT. Trust me, if I’d wanted to kill you…” he took the man’s shirt in his hand and wrenched him up, speaking with an unhinged glee through gritted teeth, “YOU’D ALREADY BE DEAD.”

He let go as roughly as he could.  Taking a few paces backward and turning around, breathing to compose himself.  The squeak of his bulbous shoes made him wince.  Every step, night or day, that noise followed him.  Just another one of those things.  He turned around and squeaked back to his captive, who was looking at the floor.

“Look at me, Henry,” he commanded.  When Henry didn’t obey, he grabbed him by the chin and jerked up to look at him.  “I said LOOK AT ME!”

The man’s eyes avoided his.

“LOOK AT ME BEFORE I START POURIN’ INK DOWN YA THROAT!”  He screamed, pupils narrowing to unnerving beady dots and a few black drops dribbling over his eyes.

The threat seemed to pierce his thick skull; Henry’s pupils drifted begrudgingly to him.  A smile came back to his face, but the ink continued to run over his face.  “There’s a good boy.  You know why I don’t wanna kill you?”

Henry didn’t answer.

“I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!”  Bendy screeched, tightening his grip on Henry’s lower jaw.  More ink began to slowly melt over his face.

“Why?!”  Henry blurted through his strained mouth, desperate to loosen the toon’s hand.  It worked, a little.

“Because I’m a guy who likes bein’ fair.  I think you’re only allowed to be as bad to other’s as they been to you.  And you ain’t killed me, so congrats pally, you’ve done the bare freakin’ minimum that a normal person should do.  But ya know what you did do? Henry? Buddy? Partner?”  Bendy leaned in, bring his face closer and closer.  Ink dropped off him like a leaking faucet, quickly covering his shoes and making a puddle on the floor.  When he was less than half an inch away, Bendy spoke in a voice that was almost unrecognizable.

“You used me like the good little meal ticket I was.  Got everything you wanted out of me.  And then you left.  Me.  To.  Rot.”

As if on cue, every last drop reversed its course, like someone hit rewind.  It all flowed right back into him, leaving him the perfect immaculate Bendy he started as.  “So nah, I ain’t gonna kill ya. I’ve got somethin’ WAY better in mind fer YOU.  See, me ‘n’ Joey got ourselves a deal.  I help him with his little, er… project… and he makes sure we never get pushed around and outta the spotlight again.  This whole revenge biz?  Icing on the cake.”

It was hard to talk with a hand clamped around his jaw, but Henry made the attempt anyway.  What came out was complete gibberish but it did the trick.  Bendy’s sadistic grin gave way to a curious frown.  He released the immense pressure he was putting onto Henry’s face and leaned in, putting a hand up to his ear, smile returning.

“What’s that boy?  What’re ya tryin’ to tell me, boy?”

“Bendy, this isn’t you.  The Bendy I know, that crazy guy who kids all over smile and laugh, would never, ever, pull something like this.”  The words were desperate, trying to recover some semblance of the little devil’s sanity.

Once again, the smile dropped off the toon’s face.  The only thing left was a look of pure shock.  For a moment, Henry dared to let himself believe that he’d gotten through.

“The Bendy you knew?  The Bendy YOU KNEW?!”  The toon’s gloves gripped the fabric of man’s shirt and began shaking.  His screaming pierced the air, made Henry’s ears ring.  Ink began to flow freely from the his body, quickly coating the floor and crawling up the walls.  “YOU ABANDONED ME!  YOU ALL JUST PUT OUT YA CIGGARETTES, CLOCKED OUT, AND NEVER CAME BACK!  YEARS, HENRY!  I WAS HERE FOR YEARS!  WAITING, WONDERING, HATING ALL OF YOU.  THEN FINALLY, FINALLY SOMEONE COMES BACK, JOEY COMES BACK AND HE’S GOT A PLAN!  HE’S GOT SOMETHING TO HELP US! THEN YOU HAVE THE GRAPES TO STEP INTO HERE WITHOUT SO MUCH AS AN ‘I’M SORRY’?!”

The toons let go with one fist and pulled it back stretching his arm a few feet behind him.  The fist whirled a few times, and for just a second, an ugly, distorted smile conquered Bendy’s face.  Then it shot forward, colliding with Henry’s jaw.  His whole head jerked to the side and as the dull pain quickly spreading, he started to feel lightheaded

“You don’t deserve the Bendy you knew.  You’re stuck with me now.”  Bendy lifted him up, stretching his legs to be taller, then dropped Henry back on the floor.  With that done, the tormentor turned around. “Let’s see how YOU like bein’ trapped in here, forever followin’ the script some schmoe writes for you.”

THIS IS INCREDIBLE.  I’m… I’m making this canon to the AU, yes, this is EXACTLY the kind of tone I’m looking for. 

Little Bitty Pretty One

Steve x Reader

Summary: It’s Saturday morning and that means pancakes in the tower.

Word Count: 1258

Warnings: Brief swearing.

A/N: I was watching Matilda and getting into my Steve feels, so I came up with this. Also I pull a lot of inspiration from @bovaria


You rose with the sun that morning. Stretching off the last bit of sleep from your limbs, you made your way into the bathroom. You laughed at the reflection in the mirror. You looked like Kevin from the animated film UP.

You lazily tied your hair back from your face before turning on the faucet to wash your face. You smiled at your fresh face and made sure to fit a sparkly smile to the rest of your appearance. With half the team gone and only you, Steve, Wanda, and Vision at the tower, you decided your sleep shorts and a white v-neck shirt were appropriate enough.

You slipped your feet into some slippers and slid down the hallways to the kitchen. Giving your best Elvis Presley guns to the ceiling, you called,” Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y, how about some jams? Maybe some malt shop oldies?” Stark’s automated system obliged and soon enough some toe-tapping, hip shaking tunes were on.

You bopped your way into the pantry. Your shoulders rose and fell to the beat, while you searched for the pancake mix. Aunt Jemima’s happy face smiled back at you when you pulled the box from the shelf. You sauntered out and placed the box on the counter before swiveling to grab the eggs and milk from the fridge.

You bent down to grab yourself a pan, your butt moving left to write with the sound of the music.

“You’re a great dancer.”

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happilyfoulwolf  asked:

Hey! Could you recommand me sole sterek fics with businessman!Derek and student!Stiles, pretty please? Thank you! Awesome blog btw!! Xx

Hey :)

Aww. Thank you!!! Here’s a few with college student stiles. 

I Hope By the Morning by  andnowforyaya | 21.4K

From the bathroom came sounds of the guy brushing his teeth. Stiles rubbed the fifty dollar bill between his fingers and felt cheap. “Dude, I’m not taking your money.”

The guy spat and turned the faucet on. “Take the money. You said you lived in Queens last night? Who the hell lives in Queens.”

The fifty seemed gritty in his fingers, but he put it in the back pocket of his ridiculously tight jeans, anyway. That was, like, a five-hour shift at the coffee shop where he worked, Common Grounds, with tips. “And don’t call me ‘dude,’” the guy continued, turning off the faucet. “I’m not your college bro. It’s Derek.”

The Same Old Blood Rush (With A New Touch) by  rainsoakedshoes | 29.5K

Derek was an Alpha with a pack and a multi-billion dollar company to take care of. Stiles was a college kid with assignments and student debt to worry about. Neither of them were looking a serious relationship. A one night stand turned into an easy no-strings-attached arrangement. Although nothing is ever as easy or as simple as it first seems.

Mr Hale by  SephrinaRose | 52.3K

It was only last week that Stiles had been a completely happy college student, laying about and playing Xbox. But, now, only a few short hours later, he was known worldwide as Mr Hale’s bitch.

Oh shit indeed.

Help Wanted (But Not Really) by  reillyblack | 20.4K

“Stiles, I’ll clear up your confusion about the position. Derek here needs someone to live with him. He’s a difficult person to live with, so I won’t sugarcoat that. But his responsibilities at the company right now make it impossible for him to actually take care of himself and his home. That would be your job,” Laura explained.

Both Stiles and Derek objected at the same time.

One life stand by  Vendelin | 84.2K

Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it’s getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there’s only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.

All Derek wants is Stiles’s time, someone to stay on his arm for events and smile for the cameras. It’s the easiest job Stiles has ever had, the best-paying one he’s ever had, and he’s more than happy to sign up.

Derek is everything and nothing Stiles expects him to be, with his tailored suits, sharp mind and his quiet way of caring. But it’s just a job and Stiles never meant to fall in love.

anonymous asked:

do you have any Jace and Alec brotp headcanons ?

- jace is competitive af which means alec always gets dragged into stupid bets and dares
- like honestly jace would see alec drinking a coffee and make one for himself only to bet alec that he can finish it before he can and then jace just suddenly starts downing his drink.
- even 2 minutes later when he’s got his mouth under the faucet after he burnt all his mouth, he stills claims it was worth the win while alec gives him an unimpressed stare because unlike his parabatai, he’s not competitive enough to knock back a burning hot cup of coffee.
- alec and jace have this god awful secret handshake they made up when they were little and it’s like 1 minute long. you know how they sometimes do that thing where they clasp hands? yeah that’s only part of the handshake. the full thing is complicated and utterly ridiculous according to izzy.
- they both struggle with their emotions and sometimes they don’t wanna talk about it. and that’s fine, they’ll just sit next each other or train together until they’re ready to open up and say what’s on their mind.
- jace will call or text alec about everything. literally alec got woken up once when he was at magnus’ by a phone call from jace because “hey bro listen, do we have any milk left?” and alec’s like “tf jace, just look in the fridge. also it’s 4am what do you need milk for?”.

How I get rid of headaches

When I was a kid, I used to get bad headaches, I guess the precursor to my migraines that I started getting as an adult. As a kid, I developed this way of getting rid of them.

Visualize

What I would do is find a quiet place to sit/lay down. Then I would close my eyes and visualize my pain as something filling my head. Usually water, a ball of string, or even blocks, almost always red for some reason.

Once I had my pain visualized, I would imagine getting rid of it. If it was water, there was a faucet at the back of my head, slowly letting out the water. If it was a ball of string, it was slowly unraveling out the top of my head. For the blocks, it was being taken apart block by block. Until the pain was gone. It almost always worked.

For worse headaches/migraines: Now that I get the occasional migraine, I still do this, but in conjunction with ice packs, rest and pain killers. 

*I am not a Dr. This is just something that works for me.

anonymous asked:

Or or ORRRR, you could write about Ethan coming out as gay and his reaction when for the first time in his life he wasn't shuned or told he was wrong bc the team is chill 🎶

when you’re right you’re right

[warnings: homophobia, panic attack, vomit]

——————–

Ethan felt his heart beat sync to the sound of water dripping from the faucet.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

He felt his face go hot; the water he’d just splashed on himself didn’t seem to be helping at all.

He forbid himself to begin crying again, but the anxious feelings building up inside him were hard to endure. 

Memories of kids in high school were racing through his mind faster than he could help. Don’t even think about what happened that night. Don’t. Don’t.

Except evidently, trying not to think about something makes it more difficult to not think about it.

He found it harder to breathe as he practically relived sprinting into the bathroom in the middle of a party at the end of his junior year. He felt the same hot tears streaming down his face as he did then, after being laughed at by his best friend and hundreds of other people.

He felt just as sick as he had when he’d quietly confessed his feelings to his best friends in the corner, then shoved and called “a disgusting f**got”.

Ethan gasped for air and harshly wiped his wet face off with a hand towel, though he was sobbing now.

Nauseated, he sat down on the closed toilet seat and shut his eyes tightly.

He remembered sobbing in the bathroom just like now at that party, his friend drunkenly telling everyone else about it loud enough to be heard through the door. 

Nobody’s laughs hurt him as much as his best friend’s did that night.

He didn’t go to another party for a year after that, but the taunting was relentless no matter how much time passed. Though most of the school had attended the party anyways, high school rumors spread like wildfire.

He’d occasionally find notes in his locker from jocks mockingly asking him out, or get disgusted looks from people passing by, not to mention the big red spray paint on his locker the following Monday, which simply read “HOMO”.

It definitely didn’t help that the school decided it could wait a whole week to be cleaned off of his locker, and that his parents just had why Jason didn’t come over for dinner anymore.

Not like Ethan could tell them the reason. Not like he could say that he’d been in love with Jason. Not like he could say nobody, let alone his best friend, would even talk to him anymore unless it was unavoidable.

As it would turn out, though, it didn’t matter that Ethan didn’t tell them.

It didn’t matter that Ethan hid everything about himself from his parents for two years after that, because his mother would end up directly asking him anyways.

She would end up yelling at him for hours to just answer, insisting she didn’t care either way. Insisting she just wished Ethan would tell the truth.

Ethan sat locked in his bathroom for hours, forced to listen to his mother’s begging for the truth.

She never mentioned that the “truth”, once it came out, would end up getting Ethan kicked out and forced to go live with his dad.

“Please mom,” Ethan had begged, “Don’t tell him why.”

He knew for a fact his father wouldn’t take him either if he knew.

His mother was gracious enough to agree, but Ethan would never forget the pain he felt seeing his brother’s face as he said goodbye.

His brother had been looking at him like a stranger.

The brief hug they shared before Ethan left was stiff and one-sided.

Then, once he was finally settled and living with his dad, there was the confused remark his dad made after Ethan dyed his hair bright blue.

“Ain’t that stuff for queers, kiddo?”

Ethan hadn’t noticed that now, in the office bathroom, his lip had begun bleeding.

He hadn’t even known he was biting it.

He opened his eyes slowly, the taste of snot, tears, and blood sour on his tongue.

Fifteen minutes, two boxes of tissues, and countless attempts at regulating his breathing later, Ethan heard a knock on the door.

“Jesus, Ethan, you done yet?” Mark called from a distance, “We’ve been out for half an hour.”

Tyler was the one at the door, though, and he knocked once more. “We got Subway, are you gonna be out soon?”

“Yeah,” Ethan’s voice was ironically cool, “One second.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The faucet was still dripping. Ethan stood, satisfied with how he looked overall fine now, then turned the faucet knob tighter to stop the dripping.

His panic attack had made him feel like he was hit by a truck, but nonetheless, he exited the bathroom with the most confident stride he could manage.

“Can the Subway wait for a second?” Ethan asked the team, watching Amy and Kathryn look up from the still-wrapped sandwiches.

Mark began to say, “Fuck no” but stopped himself halfway through. Ethan must’ve looked as hopeless and broken as he felt.

“Yeah,” Kathryn answered softly for all of them, “What’s up?”

Tyler had turned around in his office chair, intently listening, and Mark was slowly setting down a wrapped foot-long on the table.

No going back now. 

Even if Ethan backed out and said “nevermind”, he clearly looked like shit and those kinds of friends don’t leave you alone until you tell them what’s wrong.

Ethan took his six-hundredth deep breath that day and shakily said, “I need to tell you guys something.”

His voice broke a little, but he’d already cried every tear his body could produce. No need to worry about breaking down once you’ve already completely broke.

He wished somebody would respond and say that whatever he needed to tell them, he could, but they were probably all too worried to talk now.

One more deep breath.

He’d get it out as quickly as possible, like downing horrible tasting medicine.

“I’m gay.”

He said it as clear as he could, because he felt he’d explode if he ever had to repeat those words again.

Or face the consequences.

Except, oh god, nobody had heard him.

Everyone’s expressions were just confused or the same as before. He had to repeat himself anyways.

“I,” Ethan choked back tears he hadn’t thought possible, “I said I’m gay!’ He snapped. He wanted the consequences already, he’d never had to wait this long before.

“You don’t have to yell, Ethan,” Tyler said softly, smiling just slightly, “We heard you the first time.

“I’m pretty sure the office next door did too,” Kathryn laughed lightly. 

And then all four of them were smiling and Ethan collapsed to the floor, no longer trying to hold back his tears.

Shocked by his crying, the team was immediately knelt down beside him floor.

“Ethan,” Amy tried softly, rubbing his back, “What’s wrong? You know we still think you’re awesome, right? Ethan?”

Ethan was crying too hard to answer.

Mark was trying to get their blue haired friend to look up at them. “Ethan, it’s okay,” he insisted, almost argumentatively, “This doesn’t change anything, okay?”

Ethan finally looked up, face wet and flushed red. “But I’m gay,” he croaked, saying the last word like it was a synonym for rapist or murderer or something heinous.

“Yeah, you are,” Tyler was tearing up a bit, hating to see Ethan cry so hard. He pulled the younger man into a hug and rubbed his blue hair, “And we love you. So cut it out, okay?”

Ethan said nothing, and he was still crying, but he had obviously realized the team wasn’t lying. He relaxed into Tyler’s embrace, giggling through his tears as Mark, Amy, and Kathryn wrapped around him as well in a group hug.

They stayed like that until Ethan could breathe again, then slowly pulled away. Mark patted Ethan on the back reassuringly, “Ready for Subway?”

Ethan looked down and blushed with a smile. “Actually, I have to go pee really quick,” he admitted sheepishly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Kathryn said and groaned in unison with the rest of the team.

Ethan just laughed and insisted he’d only be a second, before disappearing into the bathroom.

He didn’t need to mention that the half hour he’d spent in there before was having a panic attack, not peeing. He didn’t need to tell them why he’d been terrified of coming out since he’d moved to LA or contemplated killing himself multiple times.

He didn’t need to tell them any of that, because all of that was behind him. He was with Tyler, Mark, Kathryn, and Amy now, and they loved him for who he was.

And he was absolutely, completely, really fucking gay.

youtube

Soap - Melanie Martinez

Trigger Warnings: Implied CSA Flashback

Genre: Alt/Indie

Lyrics:

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  • person: how can you keep that in your ROOM? it wants to kill and eat you!! it's vicious!!
  • my snake: (balls up because I wiggled her feeder at her)
  • my snake: (balls up because she saw a paper towel)
  • my snake: (balls up because she saw her reflection)
  • my snake: (periscopes too high and falls over dramatically, balls up and peeks around like "WHO DID DAT")
  • my snake: (hides in my bra for warmth)
  • my snake: (puts her own head under a running faucet and sits there for ten years) (it feels nice I guess?)
  • my snake: (rubs her chin all over my hand until I scratch the itch)
  • my snake: (gets stuck inside a paper towel tube, balls up when I free her from it, immediately goes back in)
  • me:
  • me:
  • me: totally agree
2

I’m in deep shit and I’ll tell you why. 

I am the type of parent that pranks my kids. Like, nothing that’s going to cause tears. Nothing traumatizing. But we joke around a lot and it’s par for the course that you check your shoes before you put them on and the faucet doesn’t have a rubber band on it before you turn on the kitchen tap. The usual.

But this prank, the one they just pulled on me? It shook me. They hid all my books. LIke, the sheer logistics of it is amazing. The books were two deep in these cubbies. It’s a good, solid prank. Especially for starters. I thought, good on them

I was amused, bordering proud, when I looked on my night stand. 

What’s that? One more book? Huh.

Everything about this is beautiful. The irony in that the book thief was the only book left. The cleverness of using a bookmark. The we are anonymous type signature. Her haunted look, like she knows where your books are.

Let me tell you, I have never been more proud, and if they continue to apply themselves like this, more scared.

you know, call me crazy, call me biased af, but i just think it’s bullshit that we get all these sappy, ridiculous climon scenes and malec can’t even finish a goddamn conversation without someone walking in…and demanding, once again, that magnus fix their problems.

3

Fires in large, open spaces like aircraft hangers can be difficult to fight with conventional methods, so many industrial spaces use foam-based fire suppression systems. These animations show such a system being tested at NASA Armstrong Research Center. When jet fuel ignites, foam and water are pumped in from above, quickly generating a spreading foam that floats on the liquid fuel and separates it from the flames. Since the foam-covered liquid fuel cannot evaporate to generate flammable vapors, this puts out the fire. 

The shape of the falling foam is pretty fascinating, too. Notice the increasing waviness along the foam jet as it falls. Like water from your faucet, the foam jet is starting to break up as disturbances in its shape grow larger and larger. For the most part, though, the flow rate is high enough that the jet reaches the floor before it completely breaks up. (Image credit: NASA Armstrong, source)

Forgiveness (can you imagine)

*Hamilton spoilers*

So I saw Miguel Cervantes’ portrayal of Hamilton and I was absolutely. Blown. Away.

I could rave on and on about his inflection, his interpretation and his execution of the iconic role of Alexander Hamilton, but I want to talk about one moment.

During Quiet Uptown, there’s this amazing set up with Hamilton and Eliza in the center of the stage, standing just a foot apart as Alexander begs her to just let him stay by her side, to let him support her after the death of their son, an event that Alexander feels, in some way, responsible for.

You could FEEL the distance between them, both Cervantes and Ari Afsar did a wonderful job there and the stage was ACHING with this distance and the question “Will she…?”

Then, of course, there’s the beautiful moment of Eliza taking Alexanders hand (perhaps the first time since the Reynolds’ Pamphlet???) and Cervantes’ face just CRUMPLES.

Anyone, even those not as familiar with the play as I am, could understand Alexander’s thoughts from Cervantes’ face and I can honestly say that I’ve never seen as much raw emotion on an actors face as I did tonight.

He was relieved that Eliza was letting him BE there for her after his history of (some might say understandably) selfish behavior. He was destroyed by her forgiveness after his betrayal of her, seeing himself as unworthy of her hand and yet still in the position of receiving it. He was ashamed in some ways as the mother of his child reconnected with him over their sons death. And, finally, He began to heal in that moment, thankful to not have lost everything.

You saw Alexander Hamilton broken down and then reborn by Eliza all in a MOMENT and it was so powerful and beautiful and all thanks to Miguel Cervantes.

Stunning. Absolutely stunning, I can’t thank Cervantes, Afsar, or ANY of the cast enough for their powerful performances.

By Way of Spontaneity (Part 11)

Summary: On a whim, Bucky declares you to be his girlfriend to his grandma and mother. They’re eager to meet you and he asks you to pretend to be with him for just one dinner with his family. But is that really all?

Word Count: 928

Warnings: None.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

A/N: This fic keeps getting longer, I apologize. :D 

Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh


The following morning, you were roused by Bucky, who was trying to move away from you. He was trying to be as quiet as possible, you were being moved out of your comfortable position and you weren’t shy to voice your discomfort. He gave a silent laugh.

“Sorry, I gotta use the bathroom,” he explained in a whisper, pulling his body out from beneath you and putting a cushion under your head. “I’ll be right back.”

Too sleepy to argue, you hummed and smiled up at him. “Mm-‘kay,” you muttered back, cozying up to the cushion.

Bucky gave you a soft smile, bending at the waist to give your forehead a gentle kiss. Once straightening up, he headed for the bathroom, taking his phone out of his pocket after a night of not checking it.

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