unaffected gif

okay, in this scene, everybody jumps back, flinches, or whips their head around to look.

except for Lena.

she stands there, completely still and unaffected. she doesn’t even flinch.

she keeps her feet planted, because she’s been through much worse.

she says to herself that she has stopped an alien genocide, shot a man to save someone’s life, been in prison and then broken out by her ass of a mother, been through a traumatic childhood that nobody should ever experience, has come close to death multiple times, set a trap to get rid of highly dangerous criminals only by using her smarts, sacrificed someone’s life to save another, been morally challenged her whole life being a Luthor, had her close friend die right in front of her, been emotionally abused by family, has most of National City despise her for her family name, been thrown off a fucking building, and has to wake up and be faced by the world again and again everyday. 

she says to herself that she’s Lena Luthor, and that she’s numb to fear.

tl;dr Lena is a badass who deserves the world and more.

Monthly Fic Rec June (x)

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?  

A very fluffy AU where Louis finds a lost dog that he wishes he could keep - until he meets his owner, who he wishes he could keep more. 

“Fuck off.” Louis leans into this boy’s personal space just to show how unaffected he is, even if it is technically a bluff. “My team’s winning.”

The boy crowds right back into him with a smug look, and that turns out to be their downfall—a large man to his left nudges his arm and gestures to the jumbotron, where Louis and fucking Newsboy are currently encased in a cartoon heart with the words KISS CAM burning brightly above them.

Or the Arnacoeur AU in which Harry is scheduled to be married to Liam in 10 days and Harry’s mother hires Louis and his team to break them up.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process. 

Keep reading

Title: Nerves Can Be a Good Thing
Character: Peter Parker

“Hey, just wanted to leave you a message. I tried calling earlier but no one answered so I thought I’d try again. You’re probably just busy or somethin’, I dunno. But uh, give me a call when you get this, I’m a little worried about you….This is Peter by the way.”

Peter ended the call and tossed his phone onto his bed, taking refuge on the ground while he waited for a potential answer from you. It was Saturday night and the two of you almost always did something together. But in all the times he had tried calling you, there was no answer.

He nearly had a heart attack when his phone started ringing, quickly sitting up and snatching his phone.


“Heya, honey.” Aunt May’s voice said over the phone, and Peter could help the frown that settled into his face when he realized it wasn’t you.

“Oh hey, Aunt May.” Peter said, falling back onto the floor.

“Well you sound disappointed, is something the matter?”

“Nah, just expected someone else.”

“Okay, well we can talk about it later if you want. I just wanted to tell you I’m going to be late again, there’s some money on the kitchen table if you want to order some food.”

Peter nodded. “Souds fine, talk to you later.”

Aunt May ended the call and he let the phone drop onto his chest while he sighed deeply. Peter rested his hands behind his head and tried to focus on something else.


After Tony gave him back his spider suit, Peter had been more careful about choosing his battles and spending more of his time being a normal teenager. But, that meant he had a lot of free time to do nothing.

After 45 minutes passed and there still wasn’t word of you, Peter decided to head over to your place and see if everything was alright. It was unlike you to go this long without a simple response to tell him you’d talk later.

Peter checked the time and started to put on his shoes, and in an instant he was out the door.


The lights were on in your house, so Peter guessed that someone had to be home. Even if one of your parents answered, he could at least ask if you were okay.

Peter straightened out his shirt and ran up to ring the doorbell, rocking back and forth on his feet while he waited for an answer.

“Hey Peter, what are you doing all the way out here?” You said, surprised to find your friend standing on your doorstep this late in the evening.

Peter took a minute to take in your appearance. You were wearing a baggy sweatshirt and jeans, but he noticed that you face was all made up like you had just been somewhere.

He could see your eyeliner that was was beginning to smudge at the ends, telling him that you’d been out for some time.

Peter knew the color of your lips, he also knew that you weren’t one to wear lip stuff if it wasn’t for a special occasion.

“Hey…(Y/n),” He said, trying to figure out what you had been doing. “Are you wearing lipstick?”

Your hand when to touch your mouth and you made a face like you had remembered something important. “Oh yeah, it was for a thing.”

You let Peter inside, he explained all of his messages of worry and that he had come over to make sure you were alright.

“Oh yeah, I was just doing a thing and my phone was on silent for most of it, then when I got home it was dead.” You explained to him as he followed you upstairs.

“Speaking of, what exactly is this ‘thing’ you went to?” Peter was now leaning against the doorframe of your bathroom while you began to rub off all your makeup. He found himself slightly laughing when most of it just transfered under your eyes to make you look exhaustingly tired. Then a thought occured to him, it was a Saturday night and you had made yourself look nice for something unannounced. “It wasn’t a date was it?”

Peter attempted to sound like he was teasing you, he even pulled out his boyish smile to convince you that he was totally and completely unaffected by you going out with someone else.

Even if that was the farthest thing from the truth.

“It was actually,” Peter felt his heart drop, still trying to outwardly seem like he was peachy-keen.

“It wasn’t anything too fancy, I just wanted to try and look nice for it you know?” You paused, running a hand towel under the faucet before you started properly washing your face. “He was nice and all, but I don’t think it’s gonna work out.”

That caught his attention, and his brows lifted ever so slightly. “Really? Why’s that?”

You turned off the faucet and shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess he just wasn’t my type.”

“Type? You have a type now?” Peter never heard you once mention the sort of person you preferred to date.

You looked over at him and smiled. “Everyone has a type, Peter,” You said, walking past him to go to your room. “Even you do.”

“Yeah, but like, you’re not gonna go out with him again,” Peter sat down on the edge of your bed and watched you walk around. “Are you?”

“Any reason why it matters?”

“N-No,” He tried to make it nonchalant, but you were already staring him down like you knew something and he sighed. “Because…”

You took a seat on the floor, crossing your legs under you. “You can tell me, I’m not gonna laugh at you or anything.”

Peter laughed nervously and looked down at his hands. “Because, maybe,” He broke off his sentence to clear his throat. “Maybe, I was planning on asking you out or something,” The volume off his voice got quieter towards the end of his sentence. “But like, I totally understand if you don’t want to or anything! It was just me…saying stuff. Unless you do want to! I mean that would be really nice, but don’t worry about it.”

It took you a few moments to understand exactly what he was trying to say to you, but over the years you’d become an expert at decoding ‘Peter Parker Ramble’.


“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll go out with you.”

There was a moments pause.

“Wait! Really?!”

Imagine your niece practicing her makeup skills on Chris.

A/N: I’m not on hiatus, per se. I’m just tired, so I haven’t been writing.

You could hear your niece giggling from your home office, where you sat reviewing a list from your agent of all the different roles you’d been offered. Movies, television shows, even a documentary. A few were requests from casting directors, asking if you’d like to come in and audition for the part. But a large number were confirmed roles- leading roles, from the directors themselves; no audition  required. It was interesting how a little time, a whole lot of experience, and a few awards changed your situation. You were considered a veteran of the Hollywood industry now, privy to all the leads and connections needed to succeed. The fact you could get a role without auditioning would’ve seemed absurd to your sixteen year old self, yet here you were- twenty-eight years old- with more than one leading role where you didn’t have to. It was a stark difference. You remembered having to beg for five minutes of their time, and now it was the opposite.

As empowered and elated as that made you feel, you were still as grounded as when you started out. Your best friend turned husband, Chris Evans, never allowed you to stray too far off the ground. In return, you offered him the same service. Together, you alleviated the disadvantages and troubles that came with your levels of fame. There had to be a constant reminder that fame wasn’t everything to keep the both of you unaffected, to prepare the both of you for the eventual step down from the pedestal Hollywood had placed the power couple: Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N. It was an inevitable move, an idea that had been perpetual since the two of you met. It may not have been time to call “checkmate” and win the game by retiring so you could focus on starting and raising a family, but the end game was in sight. And it would increase in its clarity whenever you had to babysit, be it your brother’s child or Chris’ sister’s children.

It was more often than not your brother’s five year old, Skye, seeing as you were living in Los Angeles and Carly lived in Boston. But it was also because both your brother and sister-in-law’s schedules were more hectic than yours and Chris’, which was saying a lot. One was a physicist, and the other an engineer; they’d been working on something confidential for the last four months that practically had them living in their laboratory. They were fortunate you were both on a break and half an hour away, otherwise they were either going to have to leave Skye at a daycare- which she hated, or have your parents babysit- which was difficult as that meant they were going to have to drive two and a half hours, back and forth, and back and forth. That was a total of ten hours that they couldn’t afford to lose, especially when the weekends were the only time they didn’t have to share the equipment with other staff members in their facility.

“Aunt Y/N.” You spun your office chair towards the door when you heard Skye’s voice; she stood in the doorway with Dodger by her side. You narrowed your eyes at her with a curious smile when you saw an eyeshadow brush in her hand. She had no makeup on her face and Dodger was as clean as you’d seen him after Chris gave him his shower yesterday, which meant only one thing. “Do you have any blue eyeshadow? ‘Cause Mommy doesn’t, I searched her whole bag.”

“Yeah,” you tried not to laugh as you got to your feet, holding out your hand for her to take. She looked up at you, grinning happily. “Where’s Uncle Chris?” You asked her as you took her down the hall to the master bedroom with Dodger following behind the two of you.

“In the living room,” she giggled. “But you can’t see him yet,” she quickly added. “I’m not finished, I need the blue eyeshadow first.” You nodded, pressing your lips together to suppress laughter. You loved it when Erica entrusted her makeup bag with Skye; Chris not so much. But he loved Skye so he allowed her to do whatever she wanted with his face.

“How’s this?” You passed her your single NARS eyeshadow in ‘Outremer’; the brightest, truest blue you had in your makeup collection. You hardly ever wore it, the only time being at the ‘Captain America: Civil War’ premiere to show your solidarity to your husband. It seemed fitting then for Skye to use it on Captain America himself.

“It’s perfect!” She jumped excitedly then took it from you and sprinted out of the room. “Uncle Chris, I found it!” You chuckled softly, giving Dodger’s head a quick scratch before he followed Skye back into the living room.

You went back to your office to turn off your laptop and put your papers away so you could give Skye some time to finish doing Chris’ makeup. You’d been pushed out of the room before because she wasn’t done, so you decided to wait until she came for you. Five minutes probably past before she came running back to find you, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind her. You snorted, choked on your own spit, then burst out laughing when you saw Chris’ face.

It was obviously a Captain America inspired look, and for a five year old- she was very good, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hilarious. Bright blue and flaming red eyeshadow blended perfectly on his lids; cherry red lipstick accentuating his acutely shaped lips; a nice, thick coat of mascara further lengthening his already long lashes. She even used bronzer and highlight, which was pretty amazing for a five year old. At five, you didn’t even recognize the existence of makeup let alone be able to apply it. If Skye attention span lasted long enough, perhaps she had a future as a makeup artist. But you were confident it wouldn’t because three days ago, she was an aspiring Olympic gymnast who Chris had to help flip on the trampoline.

“Oh, just beautiful, baby,” you teased.

“I don’t wike it,” he quoted his nephew, pouting.

“What do you think, Aunt Y/N?” Skye asked, giggling herself. You could tell from her tone that this wasn’t a serious effort, that she only did all that to make fun of Chris because that was basically their relationship. “Doesn’t Uncle Chris look pretty? I think he- Ahhh!” She shrieked with laughter when he jumped to his feet, grabbing her from behind. “Uncle Chris, noooo!” She laughed when he threw her over her shoulder, walking her towards the backyard. “Help, Aunt Y/N!” She cried out, choking on her laughter. “He’s going to throw me in the pool!”

“No he’s not,” you chuckled.

“Yes I am,” Chris nodded, poking Skye’s side. “I told her I would if you laughed because that means she did a terrible job and deserves to be punished. Didn’t I say that, Skye?” She shook her head vigorously as she continued to giggle. “I did and we shook on it, so into the pool you’ll go.”

“Oh no, no no no,” you ran ahead, stopping him with a hand on his chest. You tried not to laugh when you got a closer look of his face, but you couldn’t help yourself. “She doesn’t have a change of clothes, you’re not going to throw her into the pool. Put her down,” you instructed him and he squinted evilly at you before doing what you’d asked of him.

“Ha ha,” Skye stuck her tongue out at Chris. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”

“Alright,” you chuckled. “Don’t provoke him,” you covered Skye’s face with your hands then gently pushed her in the direction of the couch. “Go watch some TV while I help Uncle Chris remove this masterpiece from his face.” Chris let you take his hand. “We’re going to have pizza for lunch, so don’t sneak a snack while we’re gone.”

“Pizza!” Skye cheered, making the two of you smile.

“Hey kid,” Chris called out to her as you led him towards the hall so you could take him to the master bedroom; she turned to him with raised brows. “Don’t think this is over ‘cause I’m going to get you back. Aunt Y/N can’t be here to protect you twenty-four-seven.”

“Nope, but she’ll be here to protect me until Mommy and Daddy come pick me up.” She was so adorably smug that Chris couldn’t help but lose his intimidating composure. He shook his head, chuckling as the two of you disappeared around the corner and down the hallway.

“Are you still hoping for a girl when we eventually try for a baby?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I am,” he smiled and pulled his hand from yours, wrapping an arm around you when you laughed. “How else am I meant to look pretty if I don’t have a daughter to do my makeup for me?”

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @imaginesofdreams  @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @soymikael @always-an-evans-addict @heartblackerthancoffee @whenyourealizethisisntagoodname @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @rileyloves5 @buckys-shield @catch-me-im-a-falling-star @tabi-toast @ssweet-empowerment @chrixa @feelmyroarrrr @akidura79 @castellandiangelo @edward-lover18 @yourenotrogers @im-a-fandom-slut @royalexperiment256 @palaiasaurus64 @tacohead13 @badassbaker @pegasusdragontiger @sfreeborn @dorisagent101 @aekr @imagine-cats96 @adeptkillsyasse @shliic @justanotherfangurlz @winchesterandpie @creativeheartgemini @camerica96 @thestarlighthotel @lilya-petrichor @pinkleopardss @lizzysugar @bywonater @avengingalec @nerdingoutismylife @rayleyanns @captainxamerica @lapetitsyrene @01asianista @alwayshave-faith @southernbellestatues @thegirlwiththeimpala @callie-swagg1 @what-if-wenevermet @hillrichhill @patzammit @gerrardisgod @stevcsass @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19

So, Tumblr thought it would be cool to eat my birthday post to my lovely friend and dark counterpart @optomisticgirl….which is actually super NOT cool. Anyway, I’m posting this a little late, but here it is! Happy day of birth, my Aries partner-in-crime! You are a lady, a scholar, and a wonderful human being.

A little classic literature and verbose Killian smut :) M-rated for certain.

“Well, that’s a long face if I’ve ever seen one,” Granny announced, leaning over the counter to snatch the empty hot chocolate mug. “What’s got you down, Sheriff?”

Lifting her frustrated eyes from the leatherbound book she’d borrowed from the library at Belle’s insistence, Emma attempted a casual smile before addressing the inquiry of the woman who owned the place. It was a rather half assed try, but what was the point in pretending all was well when it certainly was not? They’d been chasing their tails for days over how to put a stop to the Evil Queen’s most recent reign of terror, galavanting through a handful of untold stories until they landed on an author who was dreadfully familiar and the answer to all their problems - according to an odd inkling Henry had while thumbing through a newly discovered version of the storybook. If she’d known sending him with Killian to the author’s abandoned mansion in search of an alternate text would amount to her reading not one but four Shakespeare books - well, she definitely would have thought twice about needing more information.

The whole idea was starting to feel like ‘much ado about nothing’ - pun very much intended.

Keep reading

Imagine: After you get hurt on a mission, John insists that you go home to get looked out. You’re still out for blood though, and not nearly as willing to let your target escape… especially, because your vendetta happens to be a personal one. John is having none of it though, and a fight ensues -one worthy of two assassins who happen to be entangled romantically. 

TW: Violence in a romantic relationship. (Non-abusive though).

A/N: *Whispers* No one asked for this… but I wrote it anyway.

“John, get out of my way,” You said, clenching your jaw and inhaling what was supposed to be a calming breath. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I won’t hesitate to, if I have to…” 

“Sorry,” John replied, in a low voice; curt yet somehow polite as ever, as he blocked your from pursuing your escaping target. “But, he’s not worth dying over.”

He needs to pay,” you scowled, feeling your voice strain. 

“He will,” John replied, drawing closer, in an attempt to help you. “Just not today…”

Fuck off,” You snapped in an annoyed voice, steadying yourself against a nearby wall and weakly pushing him away. “I’m fine.” 

John gave you a wary look over. 

“Yeah,” he huffed, severely unamused, taking an intimidating step closer to you. “This isn’t debatable, (Y/N); We’re going home. Now.” 

You let out a low growl; John may have been armed, physically much bigger, and, well, not bleeding half to death —unlike you—, but even that couldn’t keep you from putting up a fight and acting on pure rage. You didn’t even give yourself time to think before reaching for the tactical knife tucked at the back of your jeans and yanking it out with enough force to send a whooshing sound through the air.

John jumped back, dodging the knife and your attempted stabs with ease, deflecting each of your blows with a series of calculated blocks before prying the knife from your hand and throwing it across the floor.

“Alright,” You huffed, limping forward as you balled your much smaller hands into fists. “Hand to hand, then?” 

“Seriously?” The man asked, almost indignantly, cocking an eyebrow. “We’re really doing this?”

“You should have let me kill him,” You bit back, bringing your hands to your face in fighting stance. “Babe.”

“I’m not going to fight you, (Y/N)” John huffed, before deciding to pull your jacket hood over your eyes and hit you in the chest hard enough to knock you back onto your ass —a somewhat idealistic attempt to dissuade you from carrying on any further.

You groaned, rubbing your chest with the palm of your hand and gingerly rolling onto your stomach in an attempt to push yourself back up into standing position.

Stay down,” John barked, grabbing you from behind and restraining you.  

“Let go of me!” You screamed.

Let it go.” The man forced through clenched teeth, tightening his grip around the you as you continued to thrash around wildly. “Is he really worth losing your life over!?” 

“He needs to pay!” You struggled, kicking the wall in front of you and pushing off hard enough to send you and John crashing to the floor. 

John let out a low grunt of pain with the hit, but was otherwise unaffected, managing to keep his arms secured around your body as he quickly disarmed you and pinned you down with his bodyweight. After a minute of rolling around and banging each other against various objects and furniture, John finally managed to get the upper hand: Pinning you against the wall, leaning in and searching your eyes. 

Honey, think this through,” He tried to reason, still struggling to restrain you as you tried to gouge his eyes out with your thumbs. “He’s already gone… If you carry on like this, you’re going to bleed out… then you’ll never get your revenge.”

You narrowed your eyes at your long time partner, biting down on his shoulder and head butting him in the face hard enough to send a trickle of blood running down his nose. 

“Yeah!,” You retorted. “Because you let him go, you bastard!”

John stared at you with bewildered brown eyes, deflecting a fury of punches and bites as you tried to barrel your way through him. 

After what felt like an hour of screaming and fighting, John finally pinned you to the floor, sitting atop you and securing your arms down with both his hands. You let out a guttural sound, scrunching your nose for a moment before throwing your head back against the floor in exasperation and giving in to your exhaustion. John gave you a questioning look, as if to ask, “You done yet?”. You only scowled, letting your eyes search the room and lock on a last resort escape route. 

Don’t,” John warned, realizing your intentions. 

He sounded tired; unamused and unwilling to let you put up a fight. The man let out an exasperated sigh, giving you a vexed and final look over. After a moment, he decided to do the only thing he knew would diffuse the situation entirely: He knocked you out with a quick blow to the back of the head and hauled you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. 

“I told you this wasn’t debatable,” he said, lifting you up and ducking out through a nearby door. 

“You are the timeless observer that effortlessly perceives the passing phenomenon of change; yet remains (in the space of stillness) unaffected by change.”  ~Anon I mus

Pure awareness is self-illuminating and self-existing, a presence prior to thoughts. We cannot be our thoughts; we are the awareness that witnesses the coming and going of our thoughts. Thoughts, feelings and sense perceptions cannot think or exist independently without an observer (a perception cannot perceive).

🌊  Daymarer  🌊

School was a weird time.

Also if anyone happens to be in Turin, Italy on 4-5 November some of my work is being featured in an exhibition there.


4 November: NESXT @Q35 19.00 – 1.00

5 November: Cinema Massimo - Museo Nazionale del Cinema di Torino 16.00 – 19.30

Also having just read the news, I hope that if you are in Italy you are safe and unaffected by earthquakes.

“For almost 25 years, virtually every bomb constructed by the Provisional IRA and the groups that splintered off it has contained Semtex from a Libyan shipment unloaded at an Irish pier in 1986.”

-Tom Harnden, The Telegraph

Semtex is a commercially manufactured, military-grade, plastic explosive containing RDX and PETN. It was invented in the late 1950s by Stanislav Brebera, a chemist working for Synthesia, a industrial chemical manufacturer in the former Czechoslovakia.

Plastic explosives are highly versatile weapons to guerrilla fighters because of their stability and difficulty to detect. Semtex can be easily transported, stored, divided, and deployed without risk of accidental detonation by changes in temperature, pressure, moisture, or other environmental conditions. Semtex must be triggered by a detonating device so it won’t explode if exposed to open flame, intense light, electrical, magnetic or other forms of radiation. It’s waterproof. It’s very malleable, almost like putty, making it idea for hidden and improvised bombs. In addition to its stability, Semtex is far more powerful than fertilizer-based explosives, i.e., to achieve the same blast yield of a 1lb slab of Semtex might require fifty or a hundred pounds of fertilizer-based explosive packed into barrels or other large containers which would be difficult to transport or conceal, and might leak material or prematurely detonate if not handled with extreme care.

With Semtex you can shake it, bake it, bop it, pull it, twist it, pop it in your pocket and take it for a walk into a bank or police station and leave it concealed. There it will patiently wait for its primary detonator to be triggered remotely, most commonly by radio frequency transmissions which the RDX and PETN explosive material themselves are unaffected by. Most of us have seen the hero in a show scrambling to remove detonators on charges so we almost intuitively know it can be easily disarmed and even recovered for reuse, but which is not to say steps cannot be taken to prevent the detonators from being removed once the charges are planted.

In response to international agreements (resulting from the Pan Am Bombing) the manufacture of Semtex began voluntarily adding chemicals to Semtex in 1991 to aid in its detection. However, by that time tonnes of Semtex-H originally sold to Lybia was already in the hands of the Provisional Irish Republican Army.

After the tragedy of the Omagh Bombing (in which Lybian Semtex may have been used) there
was a renewed call for peace leading to the Good Friday Agreement. However, after a few years the Real IRA (a splinter organization of the PIRA which had carried out the Omagh Bombing), became dissatisfied with British commitment to the peace process and the power-sharing Northern Ireland Executive government. They began a renewed military campaign in Northern Ireland, and the English mainland. This campaign would reveal publicly that the Real IRA was still in possession of significant amounts of Semtex (originally provided to that organization by the defection of Provisional IRA quartermaster Michael McKevitt in 1997).

March 4th, 2001 [GIF/PICTURED]: Acting on a warning sent to a London hospital by Real IRA, police were attempting to disarm a car bomb outside the BBC’s main news centre when it exploded. Although Semtex was not publicly confirmed as the explosive in this bombing, a little over 1lb of unexplored Real IRA Semtex would be recovered by police after a failed improvised-rocket attack on the Strabane RUC station a couple months later in the same campaign.

After the commitment of Sinn Féin and the IRA to seek their goals through ‘exclusively peaceful means’ and the decommissioning of arms in 2005, as well as the death of Muammar Gaddafi and his regime in 2011, it seems unlikely Semtex will be used by dissidents in any future large-scale bombings. Furthermore, sympathizers in the United States and revolutionary allies such as the Basque separatist group ETA in Spain have also supplied the IRA with the slightly more effective plastic explosive C-4). Semtex also has an approximate shelf-life of 10 years, meaning old stocks are now very ripe.

However, small amounts of Semtex have been used by radical groups like Continuity IRA in
improvised devices and rocket attacks. And, as recently as September 2015 caches of up to a pound of Semtex have been discovered or seized (although the combat effectiveness of
those materials is now questionable).

-Based on exerts from The Wicklow Connection: A Timeline of Semtex Proliferation During The Troubles by Daniel O'Handley

@ellen-reincarnated1967 :))

“You ok there, Sammy?” You smirk watching the younger Winchester, who’s trying to hide the fact that he’s emotional right now.

He barely nods his head, continuing to stare at the big screen TV in your bedroom. You came down with the flu and being the awesome boyfriend that he is, Sam let you pick whatever movie you wanna see. So naturally you picked your favorite movie, A Walk To Remember. 

“It’s just a movie, babe.” You giggle as tears threaten to spill out of his big, hazel eyes. 

“I’m fine, Y/N. I just didn’t expect her to die.” He clears his throat, trying to appear unaffected. It’s just so cute.

“Considering her situation, it’s kind of a given. I always ball at the end, even though I know what’s coming.” You shrug.

“Why the hell is this your favorite movie? She dies for Christ’s sake. She finds the love of her life and then…she’s gone.” Sam studies your face like he’s trying to decide if you’re a sociopath. 

“Don’t judge me, dude. I can’t explain it. I clearly have issues.” You answer casually before stretching your arms out.

“At least you’re aware.” He snickers, making you smack him with a pillow in response. 

“You’re dating me. What does that say about you, cool kid?” You playfully glare.

“That I’m a smart man. Your blow jobs are fucking unreal so I’m willing to look past the crazy.” Sam cracks making you both burst out laughing. 

I found this really great and detailed OC tag questionnaire, so I just worked on it from 1am to 4am so I’m sorry if there’s any spelling mistakes and what not.  I’m exhausted.  Some of the answers have been redacted because I feel like they give away too much of my storyline idea, but I was really excited to share this with you guys!

Keep reading

Surprise! So I had a lot of work to do today and even less time to do it all in, meaning that requests have become a little neglected. That being said I had an idea about a bonus chapter to Plague today and I couldn’t not write it. I really liked how I ended it previously but I desperately wanted to write this once I’d thought about it. I hope you guys agree it was worth it. Enjoy, my darlings!

Plague (Bonus)


It was Christmas in New York. Contrary to the songs, there were no bells ringing; no angels singing either. The world seemed blissfully quiet, and the festive season was well underway.

It was a beautiful morning that you woke up to. A pair of gossamer curtains let faded sunshine spill into the room and bathe the floor in light. You could see the silhouettes of water droplets throwing themselves from the upper sill as the overnight frost died in the sunrise.

A pair of arms encompassed your waist and as Loki stirred, his skin shifted against yours beautifully. His fingers stroked you fondly as he woke, grazing over a scar on your abdomen, before gripping a little tighter and turning you over to face him.
“Good morning.” He purred before kissing you flush on the mouth. You responded eagerly before pulling yourself away and sitting up. You kicked your legs over the edge of the bed and yawned, raising your hands to the sky and stretching simultaneously.

Loki pushed your hair aside and kissed the back of your neck tenderly. He wrapped his arms around your waist and attempted to return you to the bed but you resisted. His kisses became longer, wetter, more inviting.
“Must you leave?” He said with a gravelly voice.
“Tis the season…” You chuckled. “Things to do, people to see.”

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A linear transformation T that stays in the same vector space could have some points that stay relatively fixed. A fixed vector v would have T(v)=v. Many transformations only have the 0 vector as their only fixed point.

But, what happens in a lot is that there are certain vectors that get scaled by the transformation. That is, there exists a scalar λ such that T(v)= λv. Since all scalars are unaffected by T, this same λ works for all scalings of v. If v has this property, it is an eigenvector for T, and λ is an eigenvalue.

A transformation can have multiple independent eigenvectors.

Another cool property is that if λ is less than 1, then T repels vectors from v, and if λ is greater than 1, then it attracts T.

Well, listeners. It seems perhaps that we have come through this day and reached some other side. Not unaffected, no, not unchanged, but here. After all, this Valentine’s Day, as all Valentine’s Days, will not succeed in bringing our city down. This Valentine’s Day, as all Valentine’s Days, will soon recede into painful memory, fading with time until another foul Valentine’s Day is upon us again.

Welcome to Night Vale | Episode 17 | Valentine

Imagine: Seeing Obi Wan for the first time after joining the Dark Side

For anon… Enjoy!

Obi Wan walked with you through the Jedi Temple hallways, laughing at a joke that he had just told. It was about Darth Sideous but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t remember what he had said. 

The young Jedi was twirling his lightsaber’s silver hilt in his hand, a smirk on his face. You smiled back at him, Force-pulling the lightsaber from his fingers and examining it. The elegant weapon’s handle was slightly worn from years of use, fingerprints smothered all over it. 

“I wonder what a Sith’s lightsaber looks like.” You said, handing Obi Wan’s saber back to him. Obi Wan squinted his eyes as he thought for a moment. 

“I know they’re not as efficient as a Jedi’s because of the lack of an actual crystal in it. I don’t know for certain, but there’s a Sith-made, artificial crystal that is put in lightsabers to make them red.” He pondered.

You arched an eyebrow at him. 

“How is an artificial crystal even possible?” 

Obi Wan shook his head.

“I don’t know. Just be thankful we’re not stuck with only red lightsabers.” 

You laughed at this, half-heartedly. You hadn’t even known why at the time. 

Your red lightsaber stabbed effortlessly through the abdomen of a Rebel solider, it’s monotone drone drowning out the low gasp of pain the soldier wheezed as he fell at your feet. 

You sheathed your lightsaber, pulling your dark hood over your eyes. It was raining. The raindrops cascaded off of your robes, creating tiny waterfalls as they rolled down the black fabric. You started to stride towards the looming building of the famous Jedi Temple, slightly overwhelmed from the vastness of it. You hadn’t been in here in over five years. You barely remember what it had looked like inside. 

Suddenly, a shape moved quickly at the edge of your vision and you turned on your heel, igniting your lightsaber. The shape was a hooded man, an icy blue lightsaber held firmly in both of his hands. You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a dangerous step forward. Something about him was oddly familiar. The Jedi jerked backwards, hoarsely snarling a warning at you. 

You merely laughed. 

“I’m only toying with you, Jedi. Apparently, you don’t like to have fun. Let me guess, entertainment of any kind is an immediate path to the Dark Side.” 

The Jedi tensed, his grip on his lightsaber tightening. His knuckles turned white. 

“How dare you mock our Code, filth!” He spat, ripping his hood from his head and unveiling a short mop of dirty blonde hair. It was soaked and covering his eyes. There was a friendly, familiar twinkle in his blue eyes. His blue eyes…

“Obi Wan?” You whispered, lowering your lightsaber lightly. Your hands started to shake. 

Obi Wan stared at you for a second, his eyes widening. 

“How do you know my name?” He growled, studying the only part of your face not masked by the hood. 

You felt your heart sink. 

Slowly, your hand travelled up and pulled the hood off of your head. Rain started to spatter into your eyes and you blinked them profusely, trying to not break eye contact with Obi Wan. 

The Jedi stared at you, his mouth parted slightly. 

“Y/N?” He breathed, his own lightsaber lowering. You watched as the blue light that lit up his face disappeared, replaced by the darkness of the cloudy, stormy sky. 

You backed away from him, raking your eyes away from his. 

“It’s been a long time, Kenobi.” You muttered, ignoring the growing knot of sorrow in your throat. 

You felt Obi Wan’s shock.

“Kenobi? You’re calling me Kenobi now?” He almost yelled, his voice shaking. You couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness. 

You looked at him again, darkening your expression.

“What am I supposed to call you?” 

Obi Wan stared at you as if you were a stranger. His eyes were unreadable. 

“What happened to you, Y/N?” He whispered, sheathing his lightsaber.

The scene instantly became darker, lightning the only form of light illuminating your surroundings.

You avoided his dumbfounded stare, clenching your fists. 

“I’ve changed,” You muttered. “I’m stronger, smarter. I’m more than anything a Jedi could ever be. And I’m ruling the galaxy, alongside one of the most powerful Force-users in history. I’ve changed. For the better.”

You could feel Obi Wan’s appalled stare. 

“How could you say such a thing?” He snarled, advancing on you suddenly. You leaped away from him, igniting your lightsaber as you did so. You jabbed it in his direction, baring your teeth. 

“Leave.” You snarled menacingly, your mind a blur. This was all so surreal. Never did you think you would have Obi Wan, one of your childhood best friends, at the tip of your lightsaber, centimeters from his neck.

Obi Wan stared at you, a certain sadness masking his face. 

“You can’t kill me.” He murmured. 

“I won’t. Leave now and I won’t.” You growled, inching the lightsaber closer to the Jedi’s throat. 

Obi Wan was unaffected by your threat. Instead, he looked at you, one last time, his eyes sad. He sighed deeply.

“Goodbye, Y/N. T-Take care of yourself.” He muttered, his voice small. You forced your face to remain hard and unfeeling but inside, your gut was ripping itself apart and a huge rock planted itself in your throat. 

You didn’t say anything as the Jedi turned slowly, lifting his hood over his head. You watched as he strode away from you, his brown robes dragging across the wet ground. The last you ever saw of Obi Wan was his soaking Jedi Robes and the exhausted slump of his shoulders. 

You don’t know how long you stood there. It could’ve been hours before you were ripped from your thoughts, the sound of Darth Sideous’s shuttle whirring in the distance.

DNA and Light Detect Cancer in the Brain, Head and Neck

Two advances in detection technologies coming out of Johns Hopkins Medicine could soon up the odds of surviving cancers of the brain, head and neck. 

In one breakthrough, researchers have employed an imaging technique that uses safe near-infrared light to differentiate between healthy brain tissue and that which has become cancerous. They hope to advance their work so that neurosurgeons can see 3-D color-coded maps of patient brains while they are performing surgery to more accurately remove tumors.

In another, scientists were able to detect tumor DNA in the saliva and blood of people suffering from head and neck cancers. In diagnostic tests using both body fluids, they were able to successfully identify cancers in 96 percent of patients. 

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