this is like pouring bleach into your eyes

Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

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

March 30

Baz

I could have magicked the bleach out of my hair that same morning.  I could have left the room looking like nothing had happened instead of enduring constant stares all day.  Now that it’s been twenty-four hours, it would be child’s play to spell the bleach away.

           Except I don’t.

           Because Snow can’t stop staring at it.

           And some things are worth the embarrassment.

           Besides, I’m about to pay him back in full.

           I strike early, immediately after breakfast. Snow and his ducklings stand in the hall outside our first class.  Bunce sees me first as I stalk towards them.  “Morning, Malfoy,” she calls to me, “isn’t the Slytherin common room the other way?”

           They’re all looking at me, Snow, Bunce and Wellbelove. Good.  Let them watch.

           I whip my wand from my pocket as I reach them and cast before anyone can react.

           “Not a word.”

           Snow opens his mouth to say something… and his voice freezes before it can get out.

           He clutches his throat and his eyes widen, and then the storm breaks.

           “WHAT THE HELL PITCH!”  Bunce actually manages to slam me against a wall with one mighty shove, and her wand is already at my neck.

           “Get off me, Bunce.”

           “Basilton Grimm-Pitch, you give him back his voice right now or I swear.”

           “Relax, Bunce,” I hiss down at her, barely able to see her when she’s this close.  “It’s only temporary.  He’ll be back to babbling by tomorrow morning.”  It’s an unfair thing to say, because Snow never babbles.  Sometimes he has difficulty even articulating his spells.

           “And what about in the meantime?” she snarls at me. “How’s he supposed to defend himself against whatever horrors you have in store for him if he can’t do magic?”

           “What if I told you I don’t have any horrors in store for him?”

           “Still,” Wellbelove pipes up, “stealing a mage’s voice? That’s cold, Basilton.”  She says it like she’s discussing the weather or the homework or what she’d like to eat tonight.

           “Not to mention totally illegal,” Bunce chimes in, and I don’t know if she’s correct on that or not, but I’m not about to fact-check her, especially not with her right in my face.

           “He’ll still be able to retaliate,” I say with a shrug.  “He certainly didn’t need magic to pour bleach in my shampoo.”

           “Why haven’t you fixed that yet, by the way?” Wellbelove asks.

           I look Snow directly in the eye.  “The perks,” I smirk, and to my delight his face goes red.  Merlin, this is fun.

“Your move,” I tell him before turning on my heel.

***

           I don’t know what kind of charm Bunce has placed on Snow, but through some miracle he manages to get through all of our classes without being called on.  It’s a little bit unfair that he has someone interfering, but I decide not to make a big deal of it. After all, Wellbelove was right. The voice is the most important weapon to a mage, and now that I’ve taken his, he’s no better than a Normal. At least for the day, anyway.  And though the added humiliation of not being able to speak when spoken to would have been amusing for me to watch, I figure I’ve ruined his day enough already.

           Besides, there’s a storm on its way.  If everything goes according to plan.

           Football practice goes longer than usual, until the sky is almost dark, and I can see Snow starting to flag by the time it’s over. It seems like he’s been trying to compensate for his lack of a voice by playing harder, and while he was admittedly almost unstoppable on the field, the extra work has clearly taken its toll. He’s still in the showers when I gather my things and head back to the room.

           It’s another fifteen minutes before he clomps to the top of the stairs.  He’s back in his regular clothes and his hair is extra curly from the shower, and before the door has fully fallen closed he flops onto his bed face-first and just lays there, breathing hard.  I shake my head at him from my bed before returning to my tablet.

           Eventually I see him kick off his shoes out of the corner of my eye.  He hauls himself up slowly like he’s carrying a sack of bricks on his back and throws the window open, leaning out of it and into the cold night air, sucking it in like he could get drunk on it.

           When he abandons the window to take his nightclothes into the bathroom, I decide I’ve gone long enough without being an arse.

           I get up and shut the window, then sit back down on my bed.

           Snow looks at it a long time when he comes back out, no doubt trying to remember whether he closed it or not.  He opens it.

           I wait until he’s sat on his bed again to walk over and shut it.  It hasn’t even been open a full ten seconds.

           Snow stares at me with a dismayed expression as I return to my bed.  He holds my gaze when he opens it again.  This time I spell it shut from my bed just to rub it in.

           He stands in exasperation and starts wildly gesturing from me to the window and back again, his mouth opening and closing silently like he’s forgotten there’s no voice coming out.

           “What is it, Snow?  Use your words.”

           I regret it the second it’s out.  His hands fall to his sides and his mouth closes slowly. He looks so heartbroken and I hate myself.  I hate myself.

           So much, in fact, that I get up and leave, making my way down to the catacombs to feed and yell at the walls.

           When I come back much later, Snow is sound asleep.

           I take a long look at him, how his eyelids settle into place and make him appear so real.  Like if I touched his skin right now it would feel different somehow, more physical.

           I open the window before climbing into bed.

Not That Easy

Member: Jin // BTS

Main Plot: They have to get the money before their family can suffer.

Short Summary: Why did it seem so easy at the start, but as he got to know her, he never wanted to let go?

A/N: Let’s all take a moment to thank @kawaii-hedgehog for giving me the scenarios for this series. I will be tagging her in the following six, as well. *low-key nervous to not mess up too much while writing these cause the idea is absolutely brilliant*

Words: 2k

/ SeokJin // YoonGi // HoSeok // NamJoon // JiMin // TaeHyung // JeongGuk /

It was not hard to fall for the man named Kim SeokJin; in fact, it was so easy that you could write it off for phenomenal.

With his silk, soft brown hair, big doe eyes that were the colour of melted chocolate, full pink lips that are inviting you so much…

Indeed, falling for Kim SeokJin was easy.

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well, hello there (remus lupin)

so on my other imagine, i needed inspiration for a remus lupin imagine and the queen @inkstainedfanfics came through and provided me with this amazing remus lupin AU prompt! so i hope i’ve done it justice, M!

pair: remus x reader

lowercase intended

warning: swearing

masterlist


the sounds of the cars and chattering people, the colossal buildings, the vast amount of cafes and restaurants surrounded you as you took a stroll around the unfamiliar city.

you turned the corner and walked down a few more blocks, curious to see what you could find. after walking down some more, you stopped walking as you saw a bar sign.

“PLUNGE” the big, red, flashing neon sign lit up the block, sparking your curiosity, you took a step inside because God knows you could use a shot of tequila.

it wasn’t an overly loud bar, save for the music and the TV. you pushed through the people walking out and stalked to the bar.

“what may i get for you, miss?” the bartender shot you a smile as he wiped a glass with the cloth he had in his hand.

you picked up a menu and quickly skimmed it before picking out a random order. “uh- one greyhound, please.”

the bartender slammed the glass on the table, giving you a jolt and poured vodka and grapefruit juice in the glass, turning the once clear liquid into a pink color. you downed your drink, cringing slightly at the bitterness.

“refill, please.” you raised your glass in the air, signaling the waiter before setting it back down on the marbled surface.

“what’s a pretty young thing like you, doing in a bar like this?” you turned your head and saw a guy, mid-twenties, maybe? bleached blond hair, brown eyes, has a nice build but, not your type though.

“ignoring you.” you rolled your eyes and took another sip of your drink.

you felt a hand on your knee and shot a look at him. bastard had a smug look on him.

“get your hand off me.” you grit your teeth and he only laughed at you.

“come on love, don’t be like that.” he chuckled as he inched closer to you.

“get off me!” you squeaked and you dug your nails into the back of his palm, leaving pink crescents when he yanked his hand off your thigh.

he looked up at you and shot you a devilish grin. “i like them feisty.”

“hey babe!” you heard the voice before you felt an arm slither around your shoulders. your body tensed before the the hand gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze and it made its way down to your waist.

“has this guy been bothering you? have you been bothering my girlfriend, lad?” you could hear the intimidating tone in his voice and you could see a wave of anxiety cross the bastard’s face.

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Wait Until Christmas! (X-Mas Prompt)

Requested by an anon

Summary: Hiding presents from the batfamily is considered an Olympic sport by batmom and Bruce…and this year they just won gold.

Warning(s): Just Fluff, Really vague NSFW but not really??

Every year it was a challenge to find a new hiding place within the manor in hopes your children wouldn’t find them. Yet year after year you failed, your children either harassing the location out of you, finding it themselves, or in more recent years, hacking the security system. This year you and Bruce made a pact that it would be different and a smirk crept onto your face as you thought about it.

After making sure each of your kids were preoccupied, with much help from Alfred, you and Bruce snuck out of the house to do some shopping. It didn’t take long for the media to go into a frenzy and word to spread that Bruce Wayne and his s/o were outside of the manor. Not soon after the press would show up, a various array of your children would show up as well.

This time it was Cass, Tim, and Damian, a combination that made you raise an eyebrow, but accepted their presence anyways.

“Mom, lemme help you with those,” Tim flaunted his boyish smile and reached for the bags.

“No thanks, Tim, I can handle them,” you responded almost too nicely and returned a smug smile.

You knew exactly what game he was playing, he learned it from “Lemme hold the bags so I can see what Christmas presents you got me”-master Dick Grayson himself. Damian distracted Bruce with business talk while even Cass tried to peak into the bags you both were holding. Holding the bags closer to you, you walked faster and nudged Tim away from you, snapping him out of his shameless looking.

When you got home you both took the bags to your shared rooms and the children thought you two were just giving up playing their game. What they didn’t recognize was you carrying a gym bag to your yoga room every morning so you could stash presents away. That was until one morning Dick saw you carrying the overstuffed bag into your yoga room when it clicked. Of course you noticed him and you simply smirked, knowing your plan was unfolding perfectly.

After your yoga session you entered the kitchen where every other member of your family was, even Jason and Barbra, most of them trying to act normal as you got a bowl of cereal, smirking once again as Bruce read the text message, signaling to him that you’d been found out. Slowly one by one they walked out, most likely meeting at some rendezvous point in the house.

You and Bruce slipped into the room across the hall from your yoga. When you heard the whispers and the desperate attempts to be quiet you gave each other a knowing look. Bruce let you know when they had the door opened and were inside your yoga room so you two could stand up and make your way into the room as well.

“Whatcha doin’?” You looked at your children, who were all spread out, looking around the room.

“We know you hid the presents in here, mom!” Dick said matter-of-factly as they looked through your impeccably cleanroom, slightly confused.

“Well, I don’t see any present, do you?” Bruce looked to you questioningly.

“Nope, none in here! Plus, you have to wait until Christmas anyways!” you shrugged and watched them.

“Yeah, then what’s in this closet?” Jason questioned, ignoring your last comment.

“I think you all should really wait until Christmas,” Bruce added, in hindsight a warning but in the moment simply a challenge.

Jason smirked and opened the door, all his siblings following into the small room behind him. Yes, there were presents in there, most of them wrapped and in the respective child’s pile. They didn’t stay in the room very long, not even caring about the presents that were unwrapped.

“Father! You pervert! You use those things on (Y/N)?!” Damian was authentically disgusted and so were quite a few others.

“Ohmygod,” Jason groaned under his breath, wishing he could pour bleach into his eye sockets.

“Told you you should have waited,” Bruce smirked now and crossed his arms.

Dick and Tim were oddly silent through the whole ordeal, Dick most likely taking notes on everything and Tim trying to figure out what half the things in there were even used for.

You and Bruce had set up a “red room”, if you will, and filled it with the most erotic toys you could find, simply for the sole purpose of keeping your children out of where you kept presents. Barbra and Stephanie were impressed you went to the lengths of setting up a whole room to get them away from presents and Cass, well, Cass was only tagging along, it didn’t really matter to her and she was the first one to file out.

The others followed soon after and you shut the door to the “erotic room.” Bruce chuckled softly under his breath and looked at you. You two fist bumped and walked out of your yoga room together, relishing in the sweet taste of victory. And the complaints of all your children. Needless to say, they didn’t exactly look too hard for presents anymore.

death is designed to be messy,
but not his.
blood pours sweet as honey,
from its painful wound,
skin once full of life,
dusted in kisses from sunlight,
has been bleached with death,
like wood from the sea,
wrinkles carved into his skin by smiles,
now make him look older, exhausted,
he would make you smile by breathing,
by giving you glances of awe,
out of eyes now emotionless,
like a sculpture - hollow, souless.
yet one who was so precious, so beautiful,
so honoured in life,
remains ethereal in death.
all that is messy,
is your ugly grief.
—  hurry, he is waiting for you.

help me heal

Summary: Shouto has gone missing during a solo mission. Izuku upturned the whole town in search for him. He found Shouto. A broken, pale imitation of the Shouto he knew and loved. Izuku wanted to cry but he swallowed his tears. Because Shouto needed his help now more than his tears.

Tags: Torture, Angst, blind!Shouto, so much angst

Note: @tododeku-week​  Day 4 | loyalty | “I tried my hardest. I don’t know what else to do.”

Ao3

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anonymous asked:

Hey tom I dare you to-STOP THE FUCKING GAY SHIPPING NO BURN IT KILL IT NO FUCKING WAY JUST STOP TOMEDD I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING JUST PLEASE (pours bleach in eyes) BY THE TIME I RECOVER THERE BETTER BE NO TOMEDD I'LL FIGHT JUST TO LET YOU I'M 5'2 SO I WILL FIGHT AND TORD (splashes bleach on tords eyes) AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST AAAAAAAGH TAKE ME TO THE ER MY EYES!!!!

Ok so, it’s ok that you don’t like tomedd. It’s totally chill my dude. You can like and dislike whatever you want. 

But hey, I put in the bio that this is blog haves Tomedd.

So you have the choice to read that, see it’s not your type of stuff and just leave. No need to leave some unnecessary message in this inbox with cringy bleach jokes and caps lock yelling or whatever. You can just leave and not bother anyone and waste my time, my friend. I’m not mad or anything just like meh. 

Just keep this in mind, if you see something you dislike then just let it be dude, don’t send unnecessary messages to the people who like Tomedd or any kinds of stuff. They are not doing anything wrong, just drawning stuff they like and that makes them happy. Unless they’re shoving it in people’s faces and yelling “SHIP THIS CAUSE ITS THE BEEESSSSTTTT” or “UGH THIS SHOULD BE CANON SO I’LL HARASS THE CREATORS TO MAKE IT CANON”  like yeah in that case they should stop. But in my case and many other people’s cases, we just draw for fun and for the others who enjoy it like us. It’s all fun and no one’s getting hurt. 

So yeah. If you don’t like ship art or blogs or whatever who aren’t doing anything wrong, just leave them alone and go on with your day without wasting someone’s time. 

I hope you have a good day my friend :)

oh and if this is a joke, nice my dude. thanks for wasting my time

Closer || Michael Clifford

this is actually a very good song. you guys gotta listen to it pls and thanks. 

Closer - The Chainsmokers ft. Halsey

I M A G I N E [slight sexual]

“Please, baby, one more picture!” You chimed happily at Michael. 

“But Y/N, it’s getting dark!” Michael said with a soft smile.

“Just one more, I promise!” You said with content as you put your Polaroid camera up. 

“Fine, only because you’re beautiful,” Michael winks at you, making your cheeks tint themselves a hue of pink. Putting the camera up, you watch as Michael puts his arms up to present the sun setting. He smiles such a cheeky smile that makes his eyes very squinted. It was an adorable face. 

“Ready?” You called out to him. You set the camera on flash. 

“Ready!” Michael assures. 

Flash!

That was 4 years ago. 

4 years ago from the happiest time of your life. It was always hard to think about such memories. It was painful to think about the flaws that came up and loosened the threads between you and the rainbow-haired doofus that brightened up your life. 

Michael Gordon Clifford was the most genuine asshole you’ve ever met. You call him this because although he was a jerk, he was completely blunt about it. He acted as though he was okay with you and everything you did. Always saying how you can tell your friends that it was a pleasure meeting them, but in reality, Michael prayed never to see them again. He was also very into alcohol ever since you got with him. He always had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand when you hung out with him. You knew of the broken relationship and contrast, but Michael was someone different. 

Michael was poor and you were rich, but he completely ignored that fact. He chased after you, but not for the reasons people expected. He didn’t want you for the money– he wanted you for you. Money didn’t mean anything if it wasn’t used to create memories, not purchase luxuries. He constantly teased you, calling you a snob when you always offered to buy him textbooks when the two of you were alone. 

Yes, you didn’t want to be known as that rich girl in school. College was all about reputation, and that was something you were oh so desperate to have. And you didn’t want your wealth to declare you the popular, pompous brat. Instead, you joined the bad crowd, the one Michael despised. They were robbers, cheaters, abusers. They were the worst kind of people and you deemed them as the best. 

But it was all for the adrenaline. 

Dressed up in night club attire, you decided to go to the bar of the Hilton hotel you stayed at. The school year was over, so you were off living your luxurious life without your rebellious friends knowing. The facade was tiring, and truthfully, you were finding them bland. They quickly became the old version of an exciting concept, especially when they didn’t do anything new. 

Descending down to the first floor, your expensive jewelry clink with every step you took in your high heels. Everyone turned their heads at you, with men giving you winks and asking for your digits with the ladies either in envy or smacking those men with their purses. Either way, it wasn’t your fault. Entering the bar with sass, you take a seat and fetch a bartender. 

“How might I help you, Miss?” The bartender asked with his gaze not fully on you. Finally turning to see you, his breath hitches and his face slightly pales up. “M-Mrs. Y/L/N, what a pleasure to have you here!” You giggled and blushed as he took your hand and placed a gentle kiss. You couldn’t help your fame from outside the school grounds. 

You were an heiress after all. 

“I’m sure,” you respond dully. He immediately snakes back his hands and smiles. 

“What would you like tonight, Miss?” 

“Give me a bottle of Rushkinoff please,” you asked, almost demanding, as you smirk. “The gold flakes, you know?” The bartender nodded vigorously before fleeing to the back in search of the expensive beverage. As you did, a man inconspicuously took a seat to your right. 

“That’s quite the vodka you chose, Miss,” the man beside you spoke, causing you to snap your head towards him. Your eyes studied him as you saw his bleached green hair. In search of his face, you noticed his fringe was in the way, making you disappointed. He refused to turn to you as well, making you even more frustrated. “Not cheap at all,” he continues. His accent was strong and… familiar. 

“Does my choice concern you?” You asked bitterly. Who had this man believed he was? Commenting on the drink of your choice. You knew it wasn’t cheap– that’s why you bought it. 

“Not really,” the man said with a chuckle. You saw the end of his smile through his strings of hair, making you a bit more curious about this man. Oddly, he gave off this vibe that seemed recognizable but your brain couldn’t tap at the source. “I just enjoy pointing things out.”

“It’s unnecessary,” you sigh, rolling your eyes as the bartender finally came back with your bottle. He offered you a cup, to which you grabbed and gave yourself a serving of the strong drink. The gold shards clinked at the cup when they were poured it. Floating in a circle, you watch the shiny shreds sparkle. “Thanks,” you tell the bartender before dismissing him away. He slightly scoffs before turning to the mysterious man sat beside you. 

“What would you like tonight, sir?”

“Get me a bottle of Jack Daniels,” the man asked, making you widen your eyes and your mouth slightly. Green-bleached hair with a fringe, cute Australian accent, and selection of an entire bottle of Jack Daniels. “Hold the–”

“Cup,” you finished his sentence, causing the man to turn to you and look at you with shock at that moment. Those forest green eyes looked at your so strongly that your mind began to flourish with memories. All the roads you two drove on, the quiet places to do the wrong, the pictures. Oh, all the pictures to have tangible memories. But even without them, they were crystal clear in your eyes. His lips were still so plump and red, reminding you of how amazing his kisses were. His face even brought back the calm, soothing vibe he always provided you whenever he was around. 

“Y/N…” Michael breathed, concentrating on your face. His eyes then wandered down and quickly went back up. It’s been 4 years, you thought. 4 years with no calls between you and the boy who was possibly the one. As much as you wanted to tell him off, saying how pretty you are and how you don’t need him, your mind was gone. And it wasn’t the alcohol this time. 

“Michael,” you say quietly, as more people entered the room to converse and drink. The bartender came with the bottle of Jack Daniels, having Michael smile before grabbing it with his hand. 

“How much for both of our bottles?” Michael asked, turning his attention to the bartender. He gives Michael the very high number, having Michael unfazed before he takes out his wallet and gives him a series of $100 bills. You were in shock, of course, as you were the one with the paper. But it seems the two of you were both on the same level. 

“Hey,” you spoke softly as Michael leaned towards you to speak. It made you nervous to find him so close, desiring to grab his hair jaw and kiss him hungrily. But you had an idea brewed and wanted to risk it. “Wanna get out of here?”

“To your room or mine?” Michael immediately asked, making your heart warm from the reacquainted feeling. But you contemplated the bedroom idea and shook your head. You wanted something more… something that the two of you would find more memorable. This lifetime was about making the best of it anyways. 

“The rover is at the parking lot,” you whispered in his ear. Michael chuckles in agreement as you pour your vodka from the cup and back into the bottle. Michael pops open his drink and takes a swig. Getting off the seat first, he offers his large hand and you take it, feeling those callouses you’ve longed since the day he left for the city. 

“Shall we?” Michael spoke in your ear, having you feel goosebumps of excitement rise from your skin. 

“We shall,” you smirk, having him drag you out of the bar and into the parking lot. You ready yourself, fishing your car keys from your pocket as you and Michael found yourselves outside in the warm weather. Michael wandered around until you pointed to your fancy vehicle. Dragging you over to it, Michael opens the trunk to look down at a mattress you had in the back. It looked very old and quite used. 

“Stolen?” Michael asked, shaking his head at how silly you were. Even with all the money you had, you were still one to be mischievous. Michael grabs the bottles of alcohol and places it onto the passage seat of the car.

“You know I was never a good girl,” you whisper seductively. Michael bit his bottom lip harshly before grabbing you by the waist and placing you on the mattress. Michael swooped it and was on all fours above you, allowing the trunk door to close due to his abrupt actions. 

“Then how about be a good girl for me?” Michael asked in a whisper, having you whimper in desire before Michael begins to strip you. One piece at a time, Michael removed your garments to reveal your body in its raw. He kept the jewelry on you, to ensure that he’s with the real Y/N he knew. The Y/N he might’ve loved and left because he didn’t see her. 

“Anything for you,” you breathed as Michael quickly latched his lips on your neck. His touch was bringing back beautiful memories of pleasure he gave you. His tongue slithered on your coconut-scented skin, having him take a deep inhale through the nose to smell you. He moaned as he kissed down from your neck to your collarbone, then slowly to your delicate shoulder. 

“Nice ink,” Michael whispered. His other hand was doing work as it intruded your insides with 3 fingers. He pulled in and out, constantly curling his fingers when he entered your hot core. It was hard to speak with the overwhelming feeling, but he was expecting the acceptance of the compliment. 

“Th-thank you, it’s n-new,” you stuttered in delight. “P-please be delicate with it.” You began digging your fingers into the sheets and began to pull at it. They started to let go of the corners of the mattress, shriveling up as some of the mattress was exposed.  

“I won’t,” Michael smirked before nibbling on the sensitive skin. You moaned at the painful pleasure he gave you, with his hands still doing work at your flower. “As much as I want to linger this, I really want to be inside you.” Michael said as he took his hands from your body and began to zip down his skinny jeans. 

“Hurry,” you moaned, feeling your core throb and ache for the return of his touch. You watch as Michael prepares himself on top of you and gives you a reassuring smile. 

“Ready?” Michael asked softly as he looked adoringly into your eyes. 

“Ready,” you whispered before he ended the space between you two and become one. “Come closer, babe…” you asked as Michael latched his lips onto yours while thrusting slowly. “Closer, closer….” you dragged as he continued to kiss your sore lips and fuck you at his own pace. 

“Closer.”


The next morning, you find yourself walking up with high discomfort on your back and soreness in your lower abdomen. Rubbing it gently, you flutter your eyes open and look up at the ceiling of the car. Sitting up, you rub your forehead in confusion and ponder. 

“What…” you softly spoke aloud, feeling oblivious until you took a whiff of the car. It smelled of booze and sex. You were then flooded from what happened last night from the return of Michael G. Clifford. Your hair allowed loose strands play on your shoulders from your pony tail that was now a mess. 

“Michael?” You asked quietly, finding yourself grow sad from your idiotic question. Of course he wasn’t here; you were in a small, cramped space that would make him evident if he were there. But he wasn’t, making you paranoid of the disgusting truth that happened last night. Pulling on your shirt, you decide to wrap your waist and below with the blanket. You crawl over to the front seats, hoping Michael was there or maybe left something. You notice your bottle of vodka was still there and full, with the Jack Daniels sat right beside it, empty and hot from the suns rays. 

“Fuck me…” you sighed, slapping your forehead with the palm of your hand. Finding yourself dehydrated, you take your bottle of vodka and take a swig of it. Putting it down with pure disgust from heartbreak and in general dislike of alcohol, you look over to the drivers seat and stare down to the small item that sat on it. Tears developed in your tired eyes as you brought your hand down to pick it up delicately. Holding it up to see it better, one tear escapes from your eyes and down the cheek. 

It was a Polaroid photo of you and Michael kissing right on top of the hood of his broken down car 4 years ago. 

when you click on drafts but it just keeps you on posts. unghghghglg

Things I Learned From Tumblr

Cats prey on dead babies, you can break physics and get infinite chocolate if you eat it a certain way, a microscopic view of a pussy looks suspiciously like the inside of a fig, if your drain’s clogged up just pour bleach and vinegar into it what’s the worst that could happen, there’s a genetic disease that only affects women that turns your eyes purple and stops you from having body hair or periods, and most of y’all have had sexual intercourse with either an alien or a ghost, or both

Leaving the Naruto Fandom?

Today I received one the most heart wrenching things to ever grace my inbox. It was from a follower and they were completely devastated about the “end game” of Naruto and they were contemplating about leaving the fandom forever. I’m pretty sure a whole lot of you might have felt or are currently feeling this way. I’ve certainly had these moments. *sighs* It’s really sad to see how a series can destroy a person. The Naruto fandom is especially brutal. There have been some instances when people have thought about suicide, ending their precious lives, when 700 came out. Isn’t that horrible? Please do not say that these people are stupid for thinking that way. They are certainly not! Don’t be nasty about how other people feel!

Naruto was very near and dear to my heart. Notice how I used was? Because after chapter 699, it became the worst joke and when NG came out (I promised this shit would not be on my blog but I have to make a point) it got fucking worse. I can’t believe I used to defend this manga because growing up with it, it touched so much on friendships and bonds and standing up to your beliefs. It is absolutely frustrating to see what it’s been reduced to now! It’s like two completely polar opposite mangas! All those pure things it used to touch on were shattered! Character developments tossed out the window! Your favourite characters turned into bumbling idiots without a shred of their former selves anymore. NO. FUCKING. PLOT. WHATSOEVER! It is shit. It is the shittiest thing I’ve ever seen. It had SO much potential. It could have ended being the BEST SHONEN MANGA I’ve read. It could have! But no.

It hurts. It hurts and has hurt a lot of people. So I completely understand why some people want to leave. Some people already have and unfortunately a few handfuls of them were really notable people that others look up to. This is what happened to my follower. Not only did they have to go through the pain of having their favourite manga annihilated but to see other people, people they admire for putting in so much work into their fandom, just give up is the final nail to their coffin. It’s sad. It’s sad to see people go through this. It’s horrible to know that people react to it and are forced to destroy a part of them which makes them special. Writers and artists, I think, will take it especially hard…

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Bleach characters' Science Fair projects


As requested by anon. :)


This anon requested that I make up science fair projects for some “random” Bleach characters. I don’t know if the anon specifically meant that I should use my random number generator to choose the characters in this list, but I accept the challenge anyway! So in the following list, randomly chosen Bleach characters will come up with science fair projects. And Tosen will judge them, because justice.


1. Katagiri: Test which type of thread best holds up to intense stress

She sews a bunch of little capes for the experiment. Ishida insisted.

Tosen: What sort of stress are we talking about?

Katagiri: Hollow gnawing, mostly.


2. Luppi: Tests which type of Hueco Mundo soil is best for growing potatoes

He does 8 potatoes in each sample group because fuck multiples of 10.

Tosen: Hueco Mundo doesn’t have ‘types’ of soil. It is all the same.

Luppi: You don’t know that until you test it!

Luppi:

Luppi: But yeah good guess.


3. Nanao: Tests whether kido has reliable physical properties

Like, how much weight can it bear? Is it disrupted by heat or cold?

Tosen: Your conclusion?

Nanao: Turns out it’s magic.


4. Meninas: Tests which material is best able to withstand her punches

She tests everything from vanilla pudding to hardened steel. 

Meninas: Turns out none of them can stand up very well at all!

Tosen: Your project is a scrap heap?


5. Keigo: Builds a volcano

He was inspired by that one arrancar he watched Ikkaku fight.

Keigo: Now with less pants-shitting terror!

Tosen: What


6. Karin: Tests whether you can train mice to play soccer

She made them tiny soccer balls.

Karin: The answer is yes.

Karin: But also that they will never choose soccer over cheese.

Karin: Which is disappointing.

Tosen: Mice are fickle.


7. Mashiro: Builds a perpetual energy machine

It was a last-minute project.

Tosen: That is….actually impossible.

Mashiro: No it’s not, dummy!

Tosen: But


8. Candice: Recreates Ben Franklin’s “lightning & kite” experiment

Her conclusion was that “the experiment obviously never happened because Franklin would have died.”

Tosen: You may have used too much lightning.

Candice: I’m pretty sure I didn’t.


9. Nel: Tests whether children and adults have the same response to various stimuli

From eating chocolate to being mildly electrocuted.

Tosen: Wait did you use yourself as the only test subject?

Nelliel: Do you know anybody ELSE who can compare being a child and being an adult?

Tosen: Well no I guess not.


10. Hinamori: Tests the efficacy of various things to fire created by a zanpakuto

“Things” like  fire detectors and fire resistant material from the human world.

Hinamori: Sadly, human world stuff doesn’t do too well.

Tosen: Shocking. 


11. Bazz-B: Sets shit on fire

He kinda forgot the “testing something” part.

Tosen: “Everything burns” is not much of a conclusion.

Bazz-B: I thought it sounded kinda deep!


12. Jackie: Tests what type of coffee is best for growing petunias

She used soil and water and everything. But she also sprinkled coffee on each of the plants.

Jackie: Turns out the answer is: no coffee.

Tosen: I feel like you didn’t try.


13. Zommari: Tests whether flash step, sonido, or hirenkyaku is the fastest

His conclusion is that sonido is definitely the fastest.

Tosen: My justice senses are tingling.

Tosen: Did you rig this?

Zommari: I don’t like your tone.


14. Mila Rose: Tests whether exposure to cold stunts growth

She hasn’t forgiven Hitsugaya for attacking Halibel.

Tosen: Is there a reason that your bean plant test subjects are wearing tiny scarves?

Mila Rose: No.

Mila: The dragon on the planters also means nothing.


15. Hichigo: Tests whether the claims on shampoo bottles are true or not 

Tensa begged him.

Hichigo: The 'no tears’ thing is definitely fake!

Hichigo: The king bawled like a baby when I poured that shit in his eyes!

Tosen: Not tears. Tears. As in, cannot be torn.

Hichigo:

Hichigo: Oh.

Hichigo: Eh. Close enough.

Sam Wilkinson Imagine Part 3!

Hi you guys, so, I started a twitter for you guys. If you want it let me know, thats where i’ll post updates and just talk to you guys because I wanna be friends with all you lol. So here is Sam’s new part, i really hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

Sam’s POV-

            I watched as Y/N walked away from me, her hips swaying because she knew I was watching. The girl was full of fire, full of spark and completely had me intrigued. I knew little about her, but I knew my best friend, Mack, knew something about her; he knew everyone and everything. I found him in 8th period, English, and sat down next to him.

            “What do you know about Y/N Y/L/N?” I asked him, leaning over on my elbows and looking at him as he leaned back in his chair.

            “Why’re you asking?” He asked while looking at me confused. I never asked him about anyone in this school, unless the person was a friend and I knew something had happened. Y/N was popular in her own way, but she has never been seen talking to my group of friends. I knew it was because she hated us, but I still wanted to know her.

            I shrugged, “She’s in my math class, wondered about her.”

            Mack knew me better than that, he gave me a smirk, “Yeah, okay. She’s been in your class since August  and you only now recognize her, despite going to school with her for four years.”

            I sighed, already annoyed at him, “Just tell me what you know,”

            Mack took a deep breath and huffed, “As far as I know, she hates football and basketball but loves hockey, has a younger sister, um, has a lot of friends, hates you.”

            I glared, “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

            Mack smirked, “I think I’m hilarious,”

            I huffed with a half-smile and faced forward. I’ll get her to talk to me somehow.

Y/N-

            After school you were at your locker, switching out your chem book out for you psychology book, then putting your history book in while your friend was talking to you about going to her cousins house Saturday night. You smirked and remembered what happened the last time you were there, “You really think that’s a good idea?”

            Your friend smirked at you, “I think it’s a great idea,”

            You were about to say something when someone knocked into your back, “What the hell?” You questioned, while hands dropped to your waist.

            You turned around and found Sam smirking at you, he began to walk backwards while holding up his hands in defense, his friends laughing at the way I was glaring at him; killing him slowly and torturously in my mind. “Sorry, babe, your ass was distracting me again,”

            A spark of anger touched your body, “You’re such a pig,”

            Sam stopped walking then dug his hands in his pockets and suddenly all passing eyes were on you. As always, Sam used the attention to his advantage, “Come to my game Saturday night, be my good luck charm.”

            You gave him a little smile, closed your locker and walked towards him. Sam was smirking because he thought you were about to give him what he wanted, like hell you would. You glanced up into his sweet eyes and bite your lip, you looked down and pretended to be flattered, like all the other girls would and glanced back up to him. The hallway around you had gone perfectly quiet that when you spoke, you didn’t have to speak too loud.

            “I’d rather pour bleach in my eyes,” You said with a complete straight face and suddenly the girls were gasping and the guys were laughing at your diss. You gave Sam’s chest a pat and walked away, along side your laughing hysterically friend.

Sam Wilkinson Imagine Part 6!

It’s here you guys! But i’m slightly worried for my Jack G Imagine, idk if I should end it. I feel like i lost some fans for that one… D: Anyways, tell me what you think about this one!

            Class went by quickly, despite the fact that Morgan couldn’t stop glaring at you. You walked out of class and headed for your next class, luckily enough you had woken up a bit in class so when Morgan’s friends began to talk shit to you during passing period after 4th, you gave them a nasty remark and headed for your locker.

            “Who the fuck do you think you are? If anything your less than dirt,” You heard Morgan sneer as you got books out of your locker.

            “Sam would never like you. Who would like a girl who’s ugly and doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut?” Morgan’s best friend snickered behind you.

            You rolled your eyes and turned around, ready to say something when a deep voice spoke up. “I actually think she’s pretty great,”

            You looked at the speaker to see Sam standing to your left, hands dug inside his pockets, hair messy and cheeks flushed, probably from gym. He looked back at you and smiled, “She’s perfect, even for a smartass.”

            Despite the anger that flared inside you, your cheeks flooded with heat and a little smile touched your lips. Upon seeing your pink cheeks and little smile, Sam’s shoulders relaxed and his lips widened in a bigger smile, figuring out you wouldn’t say something snarky.

            “Whatever,” Morgan dismissed Sam’s words and walked away.

            You turned back to your locker and grabbed a needed book while Sam walked up to you. “You didn’t have to save me, you know, I could’ve handled it.” You said without looking at him, giving your cheeks a minute to cool off.

            “Oh, I know, I was just hoping to make you smile and, well, it worked.” Sam said, you could hear the smile and sure enough, when you looked at him he was wearing a big grin.

            You rolled your eyes and shut your locker before turning to look at Sam. Before you could say anything to him, he spoke before you, “So, basketball game Saturday?”

            “Sam,” You groaned. “Stop, no,”

            “What?” He laughed.

            “Go away,” You said softly before you turned around and walked towards class.

            “Come on, Y/N,” Sam said while falling into step next to you.

            You looked at Sam and felt annoyed, was he ever going to quit? Was he ever going to understand that you would rather pour bleach in your eyes than watch him play basketball and listen to the cheerleaders cheer?

            “Sam, seriously,” You said quietly.

            Sam looked down at you, his smiled crumbled a bit but it was still there. You spoke before he could, “It’s not going to happen, Sam, you piss me off way too much.”

            “Way too much to be friends?” Sam asked you, following you as you began to walk again.

            “Way too much to be friends,” You declared before walking through the door and to the classroom.

Sam didn’t say anything like he normally did, but just kept on walking. It shouldn’t have made your chest feel heavier; you just got him off your back.