Djibouti occupies 9,000 square miles in the Horn of Africa, most of it uninhabitable desert near war-torn Somalia and Yemen. The landscape is brutal and unforgiving, as remote as it is desolate—all of which makes it a perfect place for survival training.
You are now all gonna be the captive audience of me slowly freaking out as Pulsion gets closer to 600 kudos. (MY HIGHEST KUDOS COUNT EVER *shrieks*)
We are currently at 503, 97 kudos away from the new record. Things seem to have slowed since this morning, and I’m contemplating updating again today just to help push things along (and because, 500 kudos? Worth an update.)
Things are quiet. Peaceful. My screaming has not started yet.
A/N: This idea just came to me. Maybe it’s because my foot is hurt and I’ve been having to keep it clean. Anyways, Enjoy another GTA! verse fic! Pairing: Michael x Reader Word Count: 2144 Warning(s): Slight gore Summary: Good thing you took a first aid class in community college.
You feel your apartment begin to shake before you hear the loud air horn shouting it’s arrival. 3:30 AM on the dot, a train carrying shipping containers chugs past your building in the south side of Los Santos. Your face screwed together as metal machinery took you from your much need slumber, like it did every other day of the week.
Why did Los Santos have to have a shipment 4 days out of the week and why did it have to pass your home every time? You’ve counted the routes the train could take where it wouldn’t disturb the residents and still get to the shipping yard on time, but city council ignore you, of course.
The world returned to silence as the train was gone and air has settled, but there was no way of getting back to sleep for you, you were wide awake. You found yourself staring up at the ceiling quite often, pondering life and the universe.
I feel like being in a new relationship with Calum would mean lots of being over polite and trying to impress each other but one day you don’t show up for a date and you’re not answering your phone so he calls up your best friend to see if you’re avoiding him on purpose and she informs him that you’re sick and asleep at home and Calum asks about what he can do to help so he shows up with some Nyquil and tissues and when he sees you asleep in bed surrounded by tissues he smiles all fond bc you’re so cute when you’re asleep and all of that polite shit goes out the window and he helps you shower and doesn’t even flinch when you’re blowing your nose like a train horn and he takes such good care of you and I would really like this right now
- The train horn blows and the ground trembles; cars await the passing of the train. It almost never comes but when it does it never ends.
-Every day the mountains seem to get bigger. Soon you realize that they are getting closer.
-The earth shakes. You lock the doors and hide under the table. They always come with the earthquakes.
-It is always sunny. The clock reaches 2:00 am. The sun is shining bright through your window.
-Every where there are tropical plants. Despite the drought, They are vibrant in color. Red liquid shines on the dirt around them.
-Palm trees line every street. They grow in number. They surround your house. Shrieks can be heard from the tops of the trees.
-The In-n-Out parking lot is always full. There is never anyone in the restaurant. You order from the drive-thru and a bag awaits at the window. No one is there. you leave the money and drive off quickly.
-The busses are packed full. As you get on you glimpse at the passengers. They have no faces. You find a seat and avoid looking again. They breathe heavily on your neck.
-There are never clouds and yet it rains occasionally. The days after result in skid marks and car wreckages. The trash that lines the streets seem to stare at you hungrily.
-The Summers are hot. The Autumns are hot. The Winters are hot. The Springs are deathly cold.
-The seagulls are everywhere. They follow you home. They eat off the floor. They eat off the tables. They eat your food. They eat your friends. They hunger.
-Dreamers wander into Hollywood. They wander in search of jobs. They wander into stores. They never come back. You plead to them not to go. They never come back.
The Impala creaks quietly as Dean climbs into the backseat. It’s a tired noise, familiar, part of the soundtrack that loops behind life on the road. After thirty-three years, Dean’s tuned a lot of it out – the gritty crunch of gravel under the Impala’s tires, the steady hum of a motel air conditioner, the buckshot rattle of shower-spray hitting a worn tile floor, the crackling spit and buzz of a dying neon sign.
Squeaky box-spring mattresses. Leaky bathroom sinks. Waitresses pouring coffee into his mug and his fork cutting into a piece of pie. The wind whistling through an open window. Train horns and drive-thru speakers. A new magazine sliding home. His Zippo lighting with a spark and a cough. Graveyard mud sucking at his boots.
Thirty-three years, and he barely even noticed. He should’ve paid more attention. He should’ve listened.
He’s listening now. Crickets are whining in the hedge hugging the Impala’s rear. Drizzle is slipping off the trees to tap the Impala’s roof, and Cas is breathing. Cas is alive. He’s dozing against the door with one leg folded on the seat. His head is tipped against the window and an old saddle blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. The nearly-full moon is hanging low, shining just bright enough to silhouette the lines of his face. Dean just stares at him. His relief is a living thing, brimming underneath his skin.
The Impala creaks again. Cas murmurs a soft, sleepy sound. He blinks a few times and says, “Dean,” in a voice that makes Dean ache. He’s spent the last few weeks thinking he’d never hear it again.
warhol asked a question
is it possible to have a love affair that lasts a lifetime
my god i hope so, i really do
because i don’t want to be done
with skylines and streetlights
skyscrapers and subways
i miss the silence of my stoop at night
a city silence unlike anything else
a white noise of cars and horns and trains
millions of people making their way
What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you unsealed bitch?
I’ll have you know I am a competent, self-taughtseamstress, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on cosplay gatherings, and I have over 300 confirmed costumes. I am trained in horn making warfare and I’m the the ~*most canon*~ cosplayer in the Homestuck fandom. You are nothing to me but just another wigless pleb. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this “you only get notes if you’re pretty” website, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of Big Name Fans across the WORLD, and your convention lineup is being traced right now so you better prepare for the blotchily painted troll shirts, maggot. The shirts that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can offer you constructive cosplay criticism in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my keyboard. Not only am I extensively trained in bothtroll and Beta Kid cosplay, but I have access to the entire arsenal of MS Paint Adventures characters and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the con floor, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” hate was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will spray Ben Nye Final Seal all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.
From the moment fans first set eyes on Darth Maul in Star
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