under scan

Inktober #1! Sherlock Holmes, ballpoint in my paperblanks sketchbook. 2-3 hours, mad mad lines. (i’m a little past midnight but i fully intend to do one for day 2 as well. may add an actual scan tomorrow under the cut)

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It doesn't hurt (Thor X reader request)

This was requested by @thestainonthefloor about Thor accidentally hurting you during sex. enjoy!
((warning: smut))
You never knew how you, a mere mortal in the avengers tower, could’ve taken the attention of Thor. The first time you met, something instantly clicked, and after a few months after the New York incident, you started going on dates and it grew to a loving relationship.
Thor was never the dominant one in the relationship. But here you are, Thor pushing you up against the wall, pulling down your wrist with his strong hands. Because Thor was very, very powerful, you were the dominant one more times than not, but you thought letting Thor loose once in a while wouldn’t be so bad.
He kissed your neck, biting and tugging and pulling violently. He pushed your legs apart so he could go in between them. “Thor,” you muttered, jerking up your hips. Both of you were completely undressed, and you needed friction. Now.
“Patience, my love,” he said, biting her sweet spot.
He teased your dripping core with his hard member, making you groan in frustration. “Thor,” you whined.
He entered you, painfully slowly. You gasp when he stretched your walls. Then he started moving.
At first it was pure bliss, but then his hands closed around your wrists tightly, and it was extremely painful. You shouted in pain, but Thor didn’t notice, thinking it was satisfaction. “Thor!” you tried to push him away. “Thor!” you said louder. He finally got your point and slowly moved away. “what seems to be wrong, love?” he asked softly, his hand gliding on your torso. “nothing,” you muttered. “I’m just tired.”
But Thor knew you better than that.
After last night, a white pulsing scar circled your right wrist. You tried moving it, and it hurt. You tries pressing your forefinger on it and it stung like hell. You didn’t know why it hurt your right wrist more than your left, but you knew one thing for sure: something was very, very wrong.
You decided to go to none other than Bruce Banner.
“(Y/n)? Thor’s not here,” Bruce said when you got in his work place. You scoffed, “I wasn’t looking for Thor.”
“Really?” Bruce asked.
You would never admit that you were clingy, when in fact, you were very clingy. Bruce went on a mission with you two weeks ago, and you couldn’t stop talking about Thor. Out of all the avengers, Bruce knew you most. That and he was your best friend.
Yeah, Tony teased both your taste in friendahip and love.
“so… What’s wrong?” he asked hesitantly. (Y/n) simply held of her hand in reply. Bruce’s eyes furrowed in confusion. “what happened?” he asked.
“Thor happened,” You huffed. “what the hell… What were you doing with Thor?”
You blushed beet red. “promise not to tell anyone?” You whispered. Bruce raised his eyebrows. “is this why I think it is?” asked Bruce.
Damn his big brain.
“because you fucked him? Seriously?” he asked, amused. “Shut up, Banner!” you hissed, “Tony has cameras.”
Bruce laughed, “come here, (Y/n).”
You followed him, and he placed you hand under the X-ray. Scanning just took a while, but the results were painfully long.
“I have it,” Bruce said, turning on the projector. “Finally,” you sighed. “show me something.”
Bruce turned off the lights, faint blue light rushing to the screen, showing the skeletal hand figure on it. “Shit,” Bruce whispered. You tilted your head in confusion. “looks fine to me.”
“There’s a crack,” Bruce pointed out. Sure enough, there was a small, slightly visible crack on your wrist. You sighed in relief. “just a crack.”
You slapped Bruce’s back, but you were the one who got hurt. Pain shot from your wrist to the rest of your body. “ow,” you complained. Bruce simply shrugged. “you don’t understand, (Y/n). you should use a cast.”
“Should? Meaning I don’t have to?”
“a cast is going to accelerate the healing process.”
“I can’t use a cast, goddammit,” you whispered breathlessly, “Thor is going to find out.”
Bruce eyed you suspiciously. “why does it matter?”
“I don’t wanna ruin what we have.”
“(Y/n)?” Thor said, knocking frantically at your door. “(Y/n), I know you’re in there.”
You stayed quiet inside your room, hoping he would give up.
“(Y/n), I swear if you don’t come out right now may the gods of Asgard-”
You opened the door, mainly because you were sick of all the ruckus, but also because you know what asgardian swears mean.
“Were you going to curse your girlfriend, Thor?”
Thor just stood there, taking in your body. You were wearing a white Ramones muscle shirt tucked into a short floral skirt.
“what?” you questioned letting you right hand hang loose on your side, trying to minimize movement.
“You are not allowed to roam the tower with that… Piece of cloth,” he declared, pushing his way inside.
“what, why?” you asked quizzically, shutting the door. “because men would stare at you, love.” he circled his arms around your torso, slightly gripping your right wrist. You winced in pain, pulling away instantly.
Thor pulled away in shock. His eyes widened. He took your wrist gently, looking at the white scar. He kissed it gently, sending a smooth, pleasant shivers through your body.
“Who did this to you?” he demanded.
“Thor, please.” you breathed inhaling his scent. He smelled… divine.
“Who did this to you?” he repeated, louder this time.
“You did this to me! Alright?” you exclaimed. Thor took a cautious step back. “That was why you have been avoiding me,” he said in realization, and for the first time ever, his voice was shaking. His gaze fell to the ground. “I’m a monster.”
“Thor, you’re not-”
“I should’ve known,” he regarded. “sometimes I forget that you are only a mortal.”
“Really?” you asked frustratingly. “Are you really being racist to me?”
“You’re not strong enough-”
“Not strong enough?” You exclaimed angrily. “Not strong enough? So you think I’m weak? why don’t you think of-”
“You’ll never be strong enough for me!”
Your hard dropped because he shouted. He never shouted. Not at you.
A tear fell from your eye. “I guess-I guess not.”
You walked out of your own bedroom slowly. You could hear Thor shouting your name, but you never looked back.
Of course, you ended up in Bruce’s room while he was working overnight in his lab.
You slept peacefully in Bruce’s unmade bed, that was until someone laid besides you. “How did you get here, Thor?” you sighed, then turned him slowly.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, but he was being very, very gentle. “I’m sorry, love,” he said slowly. You smiled weakly. “it’s okay,” you reassured. “do you want to try again?” Thor suggested hopefully.
“Of course, Thor,” you said, comforting him.

“But not in Bruce’s bedroom.”

Pay Attention or Pay The Consequence

You were never a very academic student. The only thing you liked about assignments was the fact that you could doodle on them to pass the time. One class that doodling was prohibited was Calculus. Mr. Kim never intimidated you, until now.


You doodled on the edge of your notebook, adding to the growing collage on the once blank paper. Calculus was your least favorite subject. Not to mention you pretty much hated school and all it stood for. The other students gawked at you from afar. How could you dare disobey the most strict teach in the school?! You were a rebel even if you hadn’t realized it yet.

Mr. Kim’s voice was pushed to the back of your mind. His boring tone and the sound of chalk scraping on the chalk board could lull you to sleep. At least you were awake. The bell rang and you thanked any God that would listen. You reached down to grab your bag but a wooden ruler clipped your knuckles.

“What the hell?!” You shouted. The man, the myth, the legend stood there towering over your desk. His eyebrows were drawn together under the thin frame of his glasses. His plump lips turned down into a scowl.

You had to admit, Mr. Kim had it going on.

Mr. Kim snatched your notebook out from under your hand and scanned the multiple drawings. You were a talented artist that was for sure. The look on your Teachers face said otherwise.

“These are not notes on Arithmetic, young lady.” The last student went scurrying out of the room with the slam of a door. Mr. Kim slammed down the notebook on your desk. You jumped slightly and felt fear rush through your veins. Mr. Kim pinched he bridge of his nose. “I’ve gave you countless tries to act on your own initiative Miss Y/n.”

Mr. Kim’s voice echoed throughout the room as he licked the door. Now why couldn’t he have this voice when teaching? The low, husky tone that made your thighs tighten. Mr. Kim circled your desk much like a vulture. His slick black shoes were nearly noiseless on the pristine white floor.

The crack of the ruler wrapped against your hand again. This time you yelped and hugged your wounded hand close. “What gives?” The older man said nothing. He went back to the tall, leather chair and leaned back. With a smooth smirk he rested his chin on his hand.

“Y/n, we need to discuss your punishment. Step forward.” Mr. Kim used his finger to beckon you forward. At first you were frozen solid until the man slapped his hand down on the desk. “My patience is wearing thin.” At that, you slowly stood and flattened down your skirt. The lump in your throat grew stiffer. His stiff and proper hair didn’t even move an inch when his head cocked.

“Yes sir.” Mr. Kim’s eyes darkened a single hue. He held out his long arm and started plucking at the buttons on the sleeve. Without removing his eyes from you, the teacher rolled down each sleeve and allowed his tongue to swipe over his lip.

This wasn’t happening. No, you were just daydreaming in Calculus again. But your feet were already moving. Before you realized it, you were standing between Mr. Kim’s feet. Chin to your chest, nothing could hide the deep blush on your cheeks. The wooden ruler was placed under your chin and pushed upward sharply.

“Eyes on me young lady.” There it was again. The gush between your thighs. You nodded once and Namjoon took away the ruler and sat it on the desk. “Good girl. Now pull down your skirt.” You were awestruck. There was no way this was happening.

“I don’t think-” Namjoon cleared his threat and your blood ran cold.

“What was that?” He teased. You licked your dry lips and reached for the zipper of your skirt. Slowly pulling the zipper down you eventually gained the nerve to remove it completely. You could tell Mr. Kim wasn’t amused. “Panties down too, little girl.”

“What! No!” You shook your head frantically. Mr. Kim shrugged and fixed the frame of his glasses.

“We can stay here all day.” It was weird. This feeling in your stomach. On one hand this was wrong, on the other, it was soooooo right. Who were you to not be a teachers pet? With a huff, you hooked your fingers in the lacy underwear and pulled them down to your knees. “So well behaved. Bend over the desk.”

Your cheeks sat ablaze. With a thick gulp you followed his instructions. Your nails dig into the thick wood and the sound of the chair rolling echoed in the empty room. “You have a Mr. Kim quietly hummed to himself until his large fingers grazed over your ass. A tiny gasp escaped you, but was quickly reprimanded by a slap on the butt. Your knees buckled. Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the groan.

"No speaking.” That cold voice was back. Mr. Kim grabbed his ruler and trailed it over each ass cheek. You quietly peered over your shoulder to see your teacher lazily tracing the wood with interest. His eyes randomly shot up and saw you staring. That’s when the first hit came. Your mouth fell in a loud intake of breath. You bit your lip to stay quiet and pressed your forehead to the cold wood. What the hell were you doing? This was like some shitty porno that the boys in your class would watch.

Slutty school girl and hot teacher.

“Good girl. Four more.” The second hit was harder, striking across both ass cheeks. This time the gasp left without permission. Two more strikes followed the first.  “Each time I hear a noise, you earn another strike. We don’t want that do we?” Mr. Kim’s hand cupped your inner thigh, pushing you further on the desk. His small chuckle vibrated your body.

“My, my! These pretty little thighs are already drenched.” Another hit. Mr. Kim soothed the skin with his plump lips, allowing you a second of relaxation. Then came the final hit. It was harder than the rest and you could tell that wasn’t even at it’s full capacity. But you could feel the skin rising in harsh welts. “Y/n, what do you say?”

Your mind went blank and another hit landed on your left ass cheek. “T-thank you sir!” Mr. Kim laughed and rummaged in his drawer. “This is hand lotion. Not exactly for this purpose but it’ll have to do.” The cold sensation on your burning cheeks caused you to squeal. Mr. Kim gently soothed you with a hush and a gentle touch. Who knew that the boring, fucking sexy, Calculus teacher had all of this underneath?

“That was good Ms. Y/n.” His strong hands grasped your waist and tugged you backwards into his lap. You helped in shock but his hand cupped your mouth. “How about we discuss extra credit?”


Yesterday, the cast of the new Ghostbusters visited the Tufts Medical Center in Boston. In full movie attire with matching backpacks, the cast including Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, Kate McKinnon and Leslie Jones entered hospital rooms to talk with patients and their respective families. Some visits even called for an impromptu check under beds and mock scans to make sure there weren’t any ghosts roaming through the halls.

“They were a true delight to have today,” Brooke Hynes, VP of Public Affairs and Communications for Tufts Medical Center, shared with E! News Saturday afternoon. “They were so kind to all the kids and their parents.” She added, “They took their time in each room visiting children as young as a few months to teens. We cannot thank them enough for their happiness and excitement they created.” 

BTS Reactions - You try to hide your pregnancy

You look down at the scan photos in your hand and breath out shakily. You’d been to the hospital today because you’d been feeling sick and you’d been throwing up a lot, so they ran a few tests and discovered that you’re pregnant. In your head, you always thought that you’d be married to your boyfriend before something like this happened. Or at least at a better time. He was at a point in his career where he barely had time for you, let alone a baby. You suddenly feel sick at the thought of the baby inside of you and rush to the toilet, vaguely throwing the scan photos under the pillow.

Your boyfriend shuts the door quietly behind him as he smiles. He’s managed to get the rest of the week off, so he rushed straight home to tell you. He wanted to surprise you, so he gently tip-toes to the bedroom, where he creeps in to wait on the bed for you. When he sits down, he feels something hard under him so he pulls it out to find a set of photos. After a few seconds, he realises that they’re ultrasounds – and they’re yours.

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4. Take Care of Me

Request:  Harry is your friend and he’s comforting you because you had a shitty day

Caring H is caring.

“What is it, my girl?” He asks quietly, worried green eyes scanning over your face. His freezing hands cup the sides of your cheeks, his nose red from the brisk autumn wind. From the moment you opened the door he had been all over you; long lean arms encase your waist, kisses pressed into your hair and whispers of concern slip from his lips. It had been a bad day, everything seemed to pile up and though you couldn’t put your finger on one reason, you were just in a sour mood. With your nose tucked inside his thick brown jacket you shake your head. “Just been a rough day, hm?”

“Shitty day,” you correct, you feel his arms slip under your shirt drawing cold shapes into the small of your back “a very hard, shitty day. Just need you to take care of me.” You admit quietly, you feel him nod, removing his hands from your shirt bringing one up to draw your face to his. He’s smile is small, but begins to grow as he speaks. 

“Well then, let’s see what I can do about that.”

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Jamie knocked on her door early.  She was still in her robe, and a bit defensive. The bruise on her jaw long since faded since the last time he’d interviewed her. The house behind her, tidier.  Cleaner.  Key pieces of furniture missing, like the man’s recliner.  

“I’ve told you everything I know,” she stated.  

Jamie smiled.  “I understand, Ma’am, but perhaps ye could tell me one thing? Where did ye both eat before yer husband passed?”

“Where did we eat? That was months ago now.”  The woman thought for a moment.  “I don’t remember the name of the place.  It had a weird name.”

“Can ye remember where it was, exactly?”  Come on, Jamie thought.  Give me one thing so I can follow through on Claire’s information. 

“Around Covent Garden station.  Best I can do, Detective.  It’s just a little hole in the wall, you know?  Lots of shops, all with a central yard.”

Jamie thanked the woman, and left.  Covent Garden was a start.  When he talked to the girlfriend of the second victim he noticed the same defensive position.  And the same healing of bruises.  She’d narrowed it down further. He took out his phone to dial Claire and realized he didn’t have her number.  

He’d just have to pop round her place. 

They came up out of the tube station, and looked around.  

“Where the bloody hell do we start?”  Claire could never be a detective. She liked the orderliness of her morgue. Nowhere to hide in there. Plus, she knew where to start with a body.  “I mean. This place could be anywhere!”

“Up Long Acre to Neal’s Yard.  It’s somewhere up there.”  

They walked up the busy street.  No words exchanged between them.  

Anxiety gripped her.  She never knew what her reaction was going to be.  And they were never under her control.  

She scanned the shops hoping to catch a glimpse of it before it was upon her, so she could prepare.  The streets were cobbled, the buildings red brick, some with colourful fronts.  In any other circumstances she would enjoy poking around this area of London.  

Jamie sensed Claire’s nerves.  She jumped at every car horn, every rumble of a lorry.  When they turned off the main street and started down narrow cobble alleys she became more tense.  It was almost as if she thought the place they sought was alive to jump out at her.  

He resisted the urge to take her hand, or place an arm around her in comfort. He might do more damage.  He couldn’t imagine living like that, where your thoughts could assault you at any moment. Where a touch could render you helpless.  He felt a compassion for Claire that he hadn’t properly felt for anyone before.  As a police officer attachments were forbidden. You couldn’t be rational in a situation if you were invested in it.  Your gut always reacted before your brain.  So he set his pace to hers, and tried to stay in tune with her, without really looking at her.

Neal’s Yard was absolutely adorable. Colourful awnings.  Red, white and blue flags.  Brightly coloured cafes. She almost started to smile, then felt Jamie’s nudge.  She looked to where he pointed, felt a small swoon. He put out his arms to steady her without touching her, almost as if he were waiting for her to fall into them.  He was considerate.  Respectful.  And she liked that. 

Claire nodded, took a deep breath, and walked forward.  She paused, scanned the store front.  Noted everything.  She opened the door to the tiny bistro.   Immediately she staggered backwards in recoil, right into Jamie’s chest.

A cobalt blue floor.

Jamie didn’t dare use his hands.  As far as he could tell, that’s what triggered her visions.  Instead, he stepped up to Claire, placing his chest against her back like a wall.  Her head fit just under his chin.  

Dammit.  It would have to fit perfectly.  

He grabbed the door, opening it a bit wider.  “Ye can do this,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

Claire nodded again.  They walked through the door.  It was exactly as she pictured it.  He had her sit at a small table while he perused the array of fresh lettuces and vegetables in the glass cases.  

“Can I help ye?”  

The voice was Scottish.  Highland, like his.  Her hair was a brighter red than his, and the eyes as green as the awning outside.  He smiled, and turned on the charm.

“Aye, ye can.”  He watched her eyes widen, and a smile cross her face.

“Where are ye from?” she asked, delighted.  

“Broch Morda.  Ye’d never find it, even with a map.  You?”

“Near Inverness.  What brought ye to London?”  She seemed friendly.  If he warmed her up maybe she’d talk.  

“Did ye no’ hear me say I’m from Broch Morda?  There’s maybe 20 folk live there.”  He yawned in exaggeration, and she laughed.  

“Weel, welcome to my little restaurant.  Are ye alone?”  She cocked her head to the side, waiting for his answer.

“No.  With my girl, over there.”  He gestured vaguely to Claire. “We’ve never been here so how do we go about ordering then?”

She smiled politely.  She quit flirting, but was still friendly.  She explained each and every possible combination of food.  Jamie nodded along then excused himself to talk to Claire.  

He managed to fold himself into the little white chair across from her.  “Ye okay, Claire?”

“Don’t speak to me like that!” Claire shouted.  

Jamie reared back.  What the hell?  He was about to speak when he caught Claire’s look.  Begging him to play along.  He realized her game.  God, she was so clever.  He stage whispered to her low and furious.  “Keep yer voice down.”

“No!  Why? Are you afraid these people will realize how you treat me? Hmm?”  

Jamie grabbed her wrist, and Claire twisted it, but didn’t try to break free. She leaned forward and whispered back, “Go up and order take away.  Doesn’t matter what just make sure you get a sample of everything. And salad dressings.  No drinks.  Be charming.”

He did as he was told.  The redhead was like ice now.  She put together the order.  Bagged it.  Took his money.  

He walked towards the door.  “Claire, come,” he said, as if calling a dog.  Claire stood and dragged her feet, head hung low.

“Grab my arm,” she whispered when they cleared the doorway.  So he did. They walked to the end of the yard, and turned the corner.  

“Keep it up,” she said, and they walked until they had to turn down the next little alley.

At the last minute, Claire turned, and looked back up the street.  

There she was.  

Watching.  Spying.  Until Claire left her field of vision.

“Co-ni-um.  Mac.  Mac-u…”  Jamie struggled with the Latin.

“Conium Maculatum.  Common name, Hemlock.  But that’s only in one of the salad dressings.”  

Heads bent together in the dimness of the morgue.  Dark and red curls swirled together as they poured over the toxicology report.  

Claire turned her head and found herself millimeters from the ocean depths of his eyes. His arm around the back of her chair.  His thigh butted up to hers. She pulled back.  “That would be what the first victim consumed. The second death was different. Poison, for sure, but that caused heart failure, which is the result of a different type of plant.”  

“Hemlock!”  Jamie was genuinely surprised.  “Holy shit.  I thought that was just the kind of stuff ye see in movies.”

Claire got up, and went over to one of the shelves by her desk.  She struggled with a large volume, and dropped it with great noise in front of Jamie.  

“What’s this?”  He eyed the tome speculatively.

“Just a hobby of mine.  Botany.  Medicinal botany, to be exact.”  Claire flipped to the section she wanted.  She showed it to Jamie.  “There’s quite a few that could case heart failure.  There has to be something else.”

She flipped a few pages in.  “Convallaria majalis would cause the same symptoms that the second man died of. ”


Claire laughed.  “Lily of the Valley.”

She felt excitement shimmy through her veins.  “I need to go back.”

Jamie was shaking his head before she finished speaking.  “Yer not a police officer.  Yer not trained for this.  I’ll find someone else.”  

“I can do it, Jamie.  I’ll just say that it wasn’t enough.  That you didn’t use enough.  That I need something stronger.”  She was warming to her idea. “You certainly can’t,” Claire reasoned.  “She would expect you to be dead.  At the very least she’ll be looking for your obituary.  I’m the one who needs to go back.”  Claire insisted.  “I need to go back and get another sample.”  

“You let a Medical Examiner go undercover with you?  What in hell were you thinking?”  

Chief Inspector John Grey was not impressed.  James Fraser was one of his best detectives, but he’d never been this unprofessional before.

“I was thinkin’ how to get in her pants, if I’m honest.”  Jamie shrugged.  “I mean, John, have ye seen her?  She’s -”

“Not my type,”  John interrupted.  He watched James smile at that.  

“I wanted to see her, so I used the opportunity to check out this place based on what the victims’ wife and girlfriend described.”   Jamie shrugged. “And now we need more samples. I canna go back, obviously.  So, she said she would.”

Chief Inspector Grey sat for a moment.  He thought through every possible scenario as if it were a chess game.  Every move, every mistake imaginable.  He had to admit, this was a good idea.  If they waited to build a portfolio for two other officers to go undercover, it would take weeks, risking the possibility of another death in the meantime.  

“Fine.  But I want to speak to her first,” John said.  And had to turn away from James’ brilliant smile.

When amber eyes met green, Claire almost bolted.  


It took everything she had to fight the wave the rolled through her brain and threatened to knock her off her feet.  This woman was a killer.  While her intentions were good, her methods were not.  Claire saw the flowers in the containers, and window boxes out front.  Every one of them poisonous. Poisonous vines.  The poisonous seeds of the flowers.  The poison of the leaves.  

In this quiet corner of London, Death was everywhere.

Claire knew Death well.  Personally.  Professionally.  

Green eyes flicked past her as she hesitated in the doorway.  She was looking for Jamie, Claire realized.  John said to face this head on.  Not to mince words or stay longer than she needed to.  He said to let innuendo take over, to say nothing that might be entrapment.  She approached the counter and said quietly, “I need a take out.”  

The green eyes roamed over her, probably looking for bruises.  Claire discretely moved her hair to cover her neck, and fussed with the scarf around her neck.  

She looked at Claire.  Nodded.  

She put the greens together silently, added proteins and extras.  “Does he like lemon?”

Claire shrugged.  She had to be careful.

The woman seemed to consider for a moment, then bent to her work choosing a squeeze bottle from behind the counter.  

Claire thought for a moment.  “Is that your name on the front?  How do you pronounce it?”

The green eyes flashed a suspicious look, then her brow cleared.  “Geillis.  And you?”

“Claire,” she responded.  She was nervous.  She could feel her smile tremble.  

The woman’s look softened as she snapped the lid on the take away.  Claire dug in her bag for her wallet.  Cash.  Jamie said cash only.  Her hands shook.

The red head placed the container in a bag and handed it over.  

“How much?”  Claire had to clear the lump in her throat.

“On the house,” Geillis said.  “Good luck.”

anonymous asked:

I've only been on tumblr for 2 years and i haven't heard of any of those memes, except the listen here cum slut. Would you mind explaining the other four please?

ok so i got like 8 messages asking me to explain all the memes i mentioned in my top 5 favorite tumblr memes post. so here we go. keep in mind that y’all asked for this. i cannot be blamed for what is about to happen.

1. obviously i have explained the “listen here cum slut” meme previously, and you can find a link to that explanation here.

2. i’ve also explained no, it’s someone dying under an MRI scan.” (honestly this post was under-appreciated and i’m 100% serious when i say i want this meme to make a comeback.)

3. so that brings us to “Spiders Georg.”

I honestly don’t know why i love this meme so much??? but i fckng do ok listen……

Spiders Georg is a tumblr meme that originated in January 2013. it started with a text post made by tumblr user reallyreallytrying about the often repeated statistic that the average person swallows a certain number of spiders in their sleep every year (some say 8, some say 3)

at first, the spread mostly focused on the idea of a fictional spider-eating cave-dweller named Georg, but then by June it had gradually developed to encompass other iterations in the following form:

“‘average person [insert action] x times a year’ factoid actualy just statistical error. average person [insert same action] 0 times a year. [name based on action/media] Georg, who lives in a cave & [performs action] over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted”


4. did you learn that in bird school, which is for birds????

this meme originates with a screencap of youtube comments posted on tumblr in june of 2012.

this quickly became a copy pasta, frequently used when having a fake argument or when a user said something that another user did not agree with. people even made shirts.

most of the time the middle part (“because here in the real world we dont dare use the h word”) is cut out, so that the response reads: 

“did you learn that in bird school, which is for birds???? im a lawyer.” or even just “did you learn that in bird school, which is for birds????”

i honestly still find myself defaulting to this a lot. in real life. like if one of my friends has an Opinion that i do not give my Seal of Approval or states a supposed fact that i do not believe, it’s almost instinctual for me to just go “did you learn that in bird school, which is for birds????”

5. extra hour in the ball pit

fuck. honestly………this is one of the best memes that has ever been spawned by this smelly armpit of the internet. it’s just….. 😙👌

this truly deserves a post to itself tbh. i may make an entire meme history post about dashcon eventually. but not now.

basically the ball pit meme originated with something called “DashCon,” a convention “for tumblr users, by tumblr users” that occurred in 2014. 

by all accounts, it was a total fucking disaster. it was such a massive disaster that it has its own wikipedia page. please. do yourselves a favor. read the entire thing. i cannot possibly describe what a shitfest it was both comprehensively and concisely in this post unless i really want to drown everyone in a gigantic wall of text. here is another article about all the shit that went down that is absolutely worth the read.

but (one of) the biggest controversies that occurred during DashCon was that they neglected to compensate the vast majority of their guests (despite a last minute fundraiser at the con that raised over $17,000).

 the cast and crew of the popular podcast Welcome to Night Vale was one of the groups that the DashCon organizers failed to pay. when they arrived at the convention and learned that they would not be paid in full prior to their appearance, they left. WTNV was probably the single biggest draw and most anticipated appearance for the convention, so this resulted in a huge backlash. in response to that backlash, the official DashCon tumblr made this now infamous post:

their compensation for the people who had reserved seats for the WTNV panel was…….an extra hour in the DashCon ball pit. which. i will remind you. looked like this:

obviously this was some Prime Meme Material. i mean……….look @ that fuckin shit. look at that sad deflated ball pit (that someone claims to have pissed in, by the way) in the midle of a sad, empty convention hall. it would be sinful not to meme that. 

this meme came in two primary forms: mocking the phrase “extra hour in the ball pit” and mocking DashCon and the ball pit itself by using pictures of the sad, empty ball pit to represent the complete and utter failure of DashCon as a whole. 

here are some of my personal favorites (includes a few choice crossover memes)

i would apologize 4 the sheer length of this post but honestly you should expect this from me by now ✌

Ahsoka: Master, I’m just playing a part. Besides, you need merchandise to sell, remember? No offense, but who’s gonna buy Rex?

Rex: They could do worse, Commander Ahsoka.

Y’know, I origionally cap’ed this because the gang teasing each other and Rex’s instant come back and how adorable they are.

…But then I thought about how Rex had already been bought and paid for once by the Republic and now I’ve made myself very sad. This panel hurts more and more when I think about it. She might be playing a part, but Rex definitely isn’t.

(from  Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Slaves of the Republic [2008])