tiny windows

guys i had a weird dream like TWO DAYS AGO and im still thinking about it

i dreamed that jack skellington had a brother that was just a copy of him but he wore a long brown coat and had this perpetually concerned expression. The dream didn’t so much have a plot as it just had an existing situation. It was that their family was primarily disappointed in and sort of shitty to the brother character because he either wasn’t scary or just wasn’t interested in being scary I don’t remember but Jack was always nice to him and sort of oblivious to the way the brother was being treated by other people???

also they lived in the minecraft world and lived in two mirrored houses on stilts. they were like normal cartoony proportions as seen above but everything else was all squat and pixely and square.

the dream shifted to one of my lost-at-a-convention dreams after that but for some reason this weird brown coat doppleganger stuck in my mind. I named him bill. bill skellington. so here he is i guess!!!

archiveofourown.org
Saving Me
R/S Games 2017 - Day 17 - Team Sirius
By Organization for Transformative Works

Word Count: 5600
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Cornelius Fudge, Harry Potter
Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Smut, Prison, Delusions, Azkaban, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Summary: "I don’t have much to do here other than think about things; what I think about the most is you. It’s always been you, Moony. What a twist on those stories, huh? I fell in love with the big, bad wolf. No princes here, just two bloody fools who couldn’t save each other.”
Prompt: #2 - “Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.” - Unknown

Excerpt:

The tiny window at the top of his cell was just enough to let him see the bright visage of the moon.  At this stage of the lunar cycle, it was almost full but not quite.  He looked at the rough tallies he had scratched into the stone with his own fingernails, leaving them raw, ragged, and bloodied; it was no less than he felt he deserved.

One hundred forty.  

He looked back at the moon and felt his heart clench; the constant gnawing in his stomach deepened—this time not from his constant hunger.  The guilt roiled in his gut at not being there for him again.  One hundred and forty full moons he had not been there for his Moony.

Come vote on this fic for the R/S Games!

I have 8 minutes left before midnight, when Holocaust Remembrance Day will end, so let me tell you the 8 things that I remember most vividly from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

1. The entire museum is suffocating. It’s quiet and somber and can sometimes feel like you’re mourning the loss of all of humanity at once. It feels like a crypt, an urn, where 6 million people are interred.

2. The Holocaust didn’t start with Hitler screaming rabidly about filthy Jews. It started when Hitler slipped dangerous rhetoric into his speeches, blaming crime and unemployment on them.

3. There’s a three-story tall room where every inch of the walls are covered with pictures. Little kids smiling cheesily and older couples sitting next to each other, families. The only thing they have in common? Their lives were exterminated during the Holocaust.

4. A man nicknamed the Angel of Death did medical experiments on children. CHILDREN. He gouged out their leg muscles and introduced life threatening infections just to see how their bodies would react.

5. There’s a boxcar that you’re made to go into on the tour. It’s a real part of a train that transported thousands to death camps. It’s cold and it’s cramped, and the tiny windows don’t give nearly enough light to let you feel relief from the nauseating claustrophobia that creeps on you.

6. There was a children’s transport camp called Terezin, where an art teacher helped the kids express their frustration and terror through their art. They have it hanging on the walls there. It’s normal kid stuff. Butterflies and houses, people performing on stages. Underneath, the name of the child is written, and their date of death. 90℅ of them didn’t make it past 1945.

7. The worst room, by far, are the shoes. It’s a simple exhibit. Both sides of the room have containers simply filled with shoes, old and rotten. It’s not objectively sinister. Until you read the caption and realize that every last shoe came from someone gassed to death. That’s when you start noticing the petite flats and the heavy work shoes, the tiny toddler Mary Janes, faded red. You notice that each shoe had a pair of feet attached, and each pair of feet had a body attached, and each body had a life, a story, a personality, a soul, attached. And you read the poem above, which bitterly notes that the only reason that these shoes weren’t burned with their owner was because they were made of leather and not flesh and blood.

8. You end in a memorial Hall. It’s made of bright marble, and each wall bears the name of a concentration camp. There, you can light a candle. It’s small, it’s insignificant, it does nothing to stop the atrocities committed, but helps. You look above it, and you read: “For the dead and the living, we must bear witness.”

8

simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda — i guess it was about loneliness. and it’s funny, because i don’t really think of myself as lonely. but there was something so familiar about the way blue described the feeling. it was like he had pulled the ideas from my head. like the way you can memorize someone’s gestures but never know their thoughts. and the feeling that people are like houses with vast rooms and tiny windows. the way you can feel so exposed anyway.

A Virgil Appreciation Post

AKA @thatsthat24 has a new video and I love it and I didn’t even realise how much I needed this and oh my the character development is superb and this is mostly about Virgil but also Logan and Patton?

Can we just stop for a second and appreciate this soft, precious boy?

Thomas plays him so well. So unbelievably well. I fall in love with Virgil a little bit more every time I see him. Look at him!

PROTECT THIS PRECIOUS BOY

Can I also just add a small reminder that I think Thomas’ hair looks freaking brilliant? I just think he’s a stunning human being?

ALSO can we acknowledge the fact that Patton snapped at Logan? Patton. Snapped. At. Logan. GUYS. This is huge.

And look at Logan’s face.

This was the last thing he expected to happen. The sadness in his eyes contrasted with the frozen-in-mid-exposition body language… Gawd, Thomas, why are you so amazing?! But Patton had just had enough.

Also, Logan giving up and leaving. Everyone’s reactions told us very clearly that Logan has never done this before. He might have left the video first but he’s never left because his feelings were hurt before. As one, the remaining sides all had an ‘oh shit’ moment.

Oh shit, I just hurt Logan’s feelings. I didn’t realise that what I said could actually get to him like that. But I’ve been hurt too, so I’m conflicted.

Oh shit, Logan just left. He just left. He’s never done that before. Honestly, I feel bad for both him and Patton.

Oh SHIT, Logan just bailed. We’re so screwed, what the hell do I do now? I’m not equipped to handle this! Oh god oh god oh god oh god

All in all, Thomas Sanders is a gift to humanity. And to round off this Virgil Appreciation Post, I will of course end with one of my favourite images of Virgil.

I know it’s only in a tiny window in the outro card, but oh my gosh, I just love this. It’s such a small thing to get hung up on, but it just suits Virgil so well and I think he’s perfect and Thomas is brilliant and somebody stop me because I’m fangirling too hard.

Virgil is great. Thomas is great. I’m so hyped for the next part.


I hope that whoever you are, reading this, you’re having a great day. <3

anonymous asked:

Dan and Phil are roommates in college, Dan's horny and has been begging Phil all day to fuck him and make him cum and Phil finally caves when Dan starts jerking off in the shower while he's trying to do his homework so he puts on a cock ring and fucks dan until he passes out(aftercare too) and they don't go to their first class the next day cuz they're too tired lol overstimulation, cockslut!dan, choking and hairpulling

I also added a weeeeeny bit of daddy!kink and gave Dan a tongue piercing because why not? If you have trouble getting past the cut on mobile open in your browser!

When Phil first meets his university roommate, he knows he’s hit the jackpot. The boy who’s sitting on one of the single beds introduces himself as Dan, and suddenly Phil isn’t quite so regretful over his decision to live in one of the cramped one-room suites on campus, rather than paying extra for the more spacious dorms down the road. Dan is gorgeous, to say the least. He has these pretty brown eyes surrounded by fans of long lashes and lovely, dark locks that feather out against his face. His smile is so bright it might not even be an issue that there’s only one tiny window in the cinderblock room and that the lightbulb screwed into the cracked ceiling is basically useless.  He’s classically beautiful – but that isn’t necessarily what makes Phil decide he needs to have him within the first three seconds of knowing him. It’s more likely that every fibre in this boys’ being screams twink. From the way he’s dressed, in skin tight black jeans and a deep plunging V-neck that’s probably two sizes too small, to the way he spreads his long body across the small bed like he’s there for a centrefold shoot. Phil’s staring at his pouty, full bottom lip wondering what it’d look like wrapped around his cock when Dan – on habit, or perhaps something else – pushes the silver ball of his tongue piercing out and gently grips it between his teeth, before retracting it back into his mouth. It’s then that Phil’s want becomes more of a need.

Keep reading

Robins going to jail.

Dick: The one that yells “I didn’t do it! I swear I didn’t do it!” over and over again while being taken to his new cell.

Jason: The one that yells “Hell yeah I did it! Whatcha gonna do about it?!” over and over again while being taken to his old cell.

Tim: The one that asks for the right to contact his father’s lawyer only to have his escort laugh and tell him “Oh the guys here are sure gonna love you in there” while taking him to his shared cell

Stephanie: The one who uses her one phone call to order from McDonald’s and ask her escort if they can pass by her father’s cell on their way to her own cell just so she can spit on him.

Damian: The one who stabs his escort when they’re not looking and escape from the nearest tiny window.

2

books in 2017  38?the wide window

“I’m not sure that “The Baudelaires had each other” is the moral of this story, but to the three siblings it was enough. To have each other in the midst of their unfortunate lives felt like having a sailboat in the middle of a hurricane, and to the Baudelaire orphans this felt very fortunate indeed.”

Under One Condition - Carl Grimes Imagine

request: Carl x reader where they hate eachother so its sassy and get stuck somewhere, so reader suggests a way to get out. Carl agrees, but if their idea fails Carl gets to do what he wants. Idea fails, carls idea is to make out.

pairings: carl x reader, best friend tara x reader

a/n: this is really stupid and unedited and lame and dumb idk read at your own risk. i didn’t follow the prompt exactly, but i never do lmao… i hope you guys still like this :-) 

word count: 1,655

tagged users: @deeindarkwonderland @namelesslosers 


You stood against Michonne’s back as Rick forced open the door of an old store with a crowbar. Your knife was drawn, but you didn’t feel the need to get in fighting form. Michonne felt the same way–standing casually with her katana on her back. 

The door swung open with a pop, and Rick drew his gun from his holster, leading your group into the small convenient store. You waited until everyone was in before entering, making sure to leave the door cracked behind you. Tara was waiting for you at the front door when you came inside. 

Tara was your best friend. She had been since she joined your group after the Governor destroyed the prison. You were young, but you had been around the apocalypse for long enough to understand that you weren’t a kid anymore. At least, you didn’t expect to be treated like one. 

Tara and you connected almost instantly. She was a childish adult, and you were a mature child. You two balanced each other out, and you could never be without her for more than a day or two. You two even shared a house when she was with Denise, for you wouldn’t let her live in a house without you. 

“Hey, kids, come help us pack these up!” Rick called happily. Whenever you found a plethora of supplies, Rick would light up like a Christmas tree. You were going to have to give half of it up, of course, but you had to grow accustomed to scavenging for someone who didn’t care if you lived or died. 

As you reached for a bag of food to pack into a box, your hand brushed up against Carl’s. You both rolled your eyes, and you moved your hand to find another bag to begin packing. You and Carl had never really gotten along, to say the least. 

You were lonely when you met Rick’s group, and everyone expected you and Carl to get along great because of your ages. They were right, at first. You and Carl were best friends for the first few years you knew him. He was your best friend, and he was always kind and took care of you. 

Carl changed when you two were around thirteen years old. You grew to dislike him more and more each day. You wouldn’t say you hated him, but he sure as hell seemed to hate you. Whenever you would even try to be civil, he would throw all respect to the curb. 

Tara knew how much he bothered you, but she managed to remain his friend over time. You wouldn’t have minded being his friend, but you were afraid of talking with him about it, to begin with. You would never hear the end of it if he was completely unwilling to be civil with you. 

A crash was heard from outside the store, and everyone turned their heads towards the sound. You tossed the bags of food you were holding into a box and picked it up, preparing to evacuate the store before you were discovered by whatever was outside. 

“No,” Rick said, holding his hand up to you. “Let us get the boxes. Carl and (Y/N), I need you to stay in here with Tara. I’ll drive the car to the front of the store so we can load everything up, then we’re gonna leave. Michonne, grab a box. Tara, watch the kids and make sure nobody gets in here.” 

You and Carl both sighed in sync, giving disapproving looks at Rick. Rick and Michonne were out the door before either of you could complain, though. Tara began packing food and supplies into her backpack, and you and Carl each followed in her lead. 

A second crash sounded from outside the store, and Tara huffed through her teeth. “Alright, guys, stay here. I’ll be right back.” You almost told her to wait, but you hesitated for too long, and she was out the door. You glanced at Carl, who was already looking at you. He turned his head quickly. 

“Why do you hate me?” you asked calmly. “I don’t wanna start a fight or anything. I’m really just curious. Did I do something to you that I don’t remember?” As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized how stupid they sounded. 

“I don’t hate you,” Carl snapped. He walked away from you, but you followed him. “I just don’t think we have to be friends because we’re the same age. That’s all.” 

“Well, yeah. I agree on that, but we used to get along so well! What happened?” Your voice was becoming more and more expressive as you thought about how stupid the rivalry between the two of you was. Carl chuckled and shook his head at the ground. You waited for a response, but he didn’t give you one. 

“What happened?” you repeated, a little quieter than the last time. Carl must have noticed the change of your voice’s tone, for he looked up at you with a confused, yet endearing look on his face. 

Carl shrugged his shoulders. “We grew up.” 

The car could be heard pulling up in front of the store. Carl walked towards the door, leaving you in the back of the store. You heard the door swing open and quickly zipped up your backpack. Before you could stand up straight again, you were pulled further into the back of the store. You stood yourself up quickly, recognizing Carl as the person who was dragging you. 

“Carl, what the hell!” you exclaimed. 

“Shh,” he demanded, still holding you by the upper arm. “A car just pulled up outside, and it wasn’t dad.” 

Your eyes widened as you heard the door swing open. Carl looked around quickly, then pulled you into a room in the back hallway. Just as he shut the door and locked it behind you, the front door could be heard swinging open. Carl wasn’t satisfied with the door being locked, though. 

He scanned the room quickly and grabbed a chair tucked beneath a dusty desk and pushed it beneath the doorknob. You pushed yourself up so you were sitting on the desk. Carl turned around and began walking around the room, searching it for anything useful. 

The room was quiet until you decided to speak up. “Carl?” 

He looked up at you, raising his eyebrows. 

“What did you mean earlier? When you said we grew up, what were you talking about?” Your feet hung off the edge of the desk, swinging back and forth. 

Carl laughed to himself, shaking his head and sliding his hands over his chin. “You got hot.” 

Your eyebrows raised, and you swore you could feel your cheeks flush pink. 

“I got scared when I started thinking about you as… I don’t know. It was different, though. We were always best friends, and something just switched in me, and you were more than just pretty.” 

Your face was probably red at that point, and you couldn’t seem to bring your eyes up from your shoes. You could have sworn that he hated you, but you were apparently far from right. 

“Sorry,” he sighed with a smile. “Didn’t mean to make it weird.” 

“No,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.” 

The silence that swept over the room made it easy for you and Carl to hear the sound of a shelf falling over from inside the store. You flinched when you realized how close the unknown people were to you. You had never been so alone and so scared before. There was always someone like Rick or Glenn with you to make sure you were safe, but you and Carl were alone that time. 

Your eyes swept over the room once more as you searched for a way to escape the room you were stuck in. You only noticed two possible ways out, and they were both extremely risky. Your first option was to go out the door into the store and try to fight off the people to get to your car. Your second option was to climb out the window, which was only about one foot by two feet big. 

“I wanna get out that window,” you stated. You hopped off the desk and told Carl to help you move it beneath the window to use as a stool. 

“(Y/N), you can’t be serious,” he huffed. “There’s no way we can fit through that tiny window.” 

“Well, we don’t really have any other options,” you said, letting go of the desk and deciding on climbing an old shelf instead. 

“Yeah, we do. We’re just gonna wait this out until Dad brings a group back to get us out. He’s not just gonna leave us here,” Carl argued. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to wait it out. You wanted to get out of the small room and back to Alexandria. 

“(Y/N), get off the shelf. I’ll help you climb out the damn window,” Carl said, giving in to your idea. 

“Thank you,” you replied. 

“Under one condition,” Carl added. “If this plan of yours doesn’t work out, then I get to kiss you.” 

Your eyes widened, and your face flushed pink once again. “All subtlety out the window, I guess.” 

“You wanna try your window idea or not?” 

If you were being honest, kissing Carl Grimes wasn’t the least appealing thing you would have had to do. You would easily pick that over several activities you had been forced to endure. 

Carl helped you pick up the desk and move it beneath the window. You climbed on top of it, so you were face to face with the small glass frame, and it was clear to you that there was no way in hell you could fit through it. 

“This isn’t going to work.” You turned back to him, and saw the noticeably apparent smirk on his face. 

“You know what that means, right?” 

Originally posted by daily-walkers

7

Jean-Michel Basquiat and Madonna photographed by Stephen Torton, 1982.

Madonna and Basquiat dated for a while, but his heroin addiction ended up pulling them apart. “He was an amazing man and deeply talented. I loved him,” she said. “When I broke up with him, he made me give all [his paintings] back to him. And then he painted over them black.” She regrets giving the art back, but felt pressured to do so since it was something he had created. (The Howard Stern Show, March 2015)

Madonna: “Basquiat was my boyfriend for a while, and I remember getting up in the middle of the night and he wouldn’t be in bed lying next to me; he’d be standing, painting, at four in the morning, this close to the canvas, in a trance. I was blown away by that, that he worked when he felt moved. And they gave jobs to everyone. Keith would meet kids on the street and ask them to come stretch his canvases for him. Basquiat had every B-boy and every graffiti artist in his loft. He was constantly giving everything away. I think they felt guilty that they became successful and were surrounded by people who were penniless, so they shared what they had. They were incredibly generous people, and that rubbed off on me. You stay inspired that way. I could never work in a recording studio where you have this lovely view and a beach and the waves are crashing. For me, it’s all about being in a tiny room with little windows. It’s almost like you have to be in a prison. And you can create beauty when you’re in that sort of deprived environment, which is a re-creation of your formative years.”

“I remember having conversations with Keith [Haring] and with Basquiat about the importance of your art being accessible to people,“ she recalled. “That was their big thing—it should be available to everyone. It was so important for Keith to be able to draw on subways and walls. And Basquiat used to say to me, ‘You’re so lucky that you make music, because music comes out of radios everywhere.’ He thought that what I did was more pop, more connected to pop culture than what he did. Little did he know that his art would become pop culture. But it’s not like we really had discussions about the meaning of art. I remember hearing them talk about those things.”

(Interview Magazine, December 2014)