until its out of my system

anonymous asked:

I'm 17 and a virgin and that makes me want to die. I know its not a big deal but it feels like it never gonna happen so like my anxiety is through the roof. You dont have to respond to this I just needed to get it out of my system

sex isn’t even that great so don’t worry! :) it’s nothing to be ashamed of

besides, you should wait until your much older anyway ;0 

i never knew i needed blepping yuri until @zephyrine-gale

also can i take a moment and say you and keilattes absolutely kill me with your art and memes. you guys are just *okay finger emoji* please proceed

As I sit in this Federation prison, I lay awake in my cell each night. I am still too afraid to rest my ocular receivers for even a brief moment due to that hunter.

My brother and I ran a slavery market, and business was booming. We sold to all the planets beyond federation reach and to some of the pocket clans. The federation had been after us for years and they never found us until they sent that wretched human. One night as Kurlog and myself were celebrating that cycle’s profits, the enforcer we had posted outside the door screamed. Kurlog grabbed his plasma rifle and we began walking to the door, angry that the guard had been startled by what we thought at the time was nothing.

We walked outside and saw the enforcer dangling from the rafters with a chain around his neck, pulled up from the ground. We were shocked, the Varanians were renowned throughout the galaxy as some of the best hand to hand fighters, how could he possibly have been taken by surprise and killed? Attached to his lifeless form there was a note. A note that is burned into my memory. It read seven simple words that shall haunt me for as long as I live:

“I am coming for both of you.”
You see, this hunter had a talent for what he did, this human knew how to capture his prey, and now as I look back I see just how ruthless, just how methodical and elaborate and ahead of us he was. For a few days after that note, we would hear sounds from nearby, only to find nothing but another note, with the same ominous message written on it. We would be awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of one of our body guards being killed, only to find no perpetrator at the scene. I now know the mind games that he played upon us and realize their morbid brilliance. We would see things out of the corner of our eyes, we would receive messages that our closest family members had been tortured for information by some mysterious human and he was coming for us next. The dismembered corpses of my crew were found through my ship one day. Each day, we were set into more panic, feeling more panic, knowing that this human was a wraith, never seen by the living in this brutal business of ours.

Then came the breaking point. He stopped completely. For a week, he was responsible for nothing that happened, and all he did was follow behind, just out of our sight. Every day, panic grew more and more as we waited for something, anything to happen. My brother and I didn’t eat, we couldn’t sleep, wondering in fear when the next strike would be. Then, as we were at our weakest and as we were most afraid, he struck.

Having not rested in days, my brother and I were weary. As we walked down the hall of our base on Dranax-9, neither of us heard of any news in days, but our fear was at its peak. Deceptively, he hacked our security system, locking all of us in the base together. No way out until that hunter wanted us to leave. For the next week he haunted us, banging on doors at night, never letting himself be seen for longer than he wished.

On the seventh night, as we lay in our beds, our door was kicked open. Foolishly, Kurlog attempted to attack, but the weeks of deprivation of all rest left him slow and sluggish. The Hunter stepped gracefully out of the way of Kurlog’s swing and pushed his arm so the momentum drove him to the ground. As he lay there, the hunter unloaded two shots into his back from his Earth pistol. He turned and pointed it to me. “Drunax, you are under arrest by the Federation. I have been authorized to use lethal force and will use it if you resist.” I surrendered immediately, that rough, gravelly voice still ringing in my auditory nerves.
My trial is in a few days and I pray that I will be convicted and sent to prison, for that hunter will not be able to reach me there. I have heard stories of this hunter from the other detainees, and that if I am not convicted, he will take the law into his own and and deliver justice in his own brutal way.


character moodboard - all for the game : Nicky Hemmick

Happy birthday to my little sunshine Nicky!

⤷  “Hello, there’s protein in the peanut butter”, Nicky said.
       “Let go of me before I tell Andrew you’re outlawing chocolate. 
     I said let go. You’re not the boss of me. Ouch!
        Did you seriously just hit me?”

    “I’m walking away and pretending I don’t know you”, Aaron said.
      “Traitor”, Nicky called after him.

    “Kevin, just let him go”, Neil said. “It’s not worht fighting over.”
      “When out defense is sluggish we all suffer”, Kevin said.

    “You aren’t serious”, Nicky said. “We’ve got how many hours until          serve? This will all be out of my system by then. 
     You can watch me take a shit if you don’t believe me.
       I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing but - ha”, he crowed      when Kevin stomped off. He flashed Neil a triumphant grin, oblivious to        the way the store clerks were staring at them.

    “I’m a master of persuasion”

How I Got into Backyard Farming


Backyard Farming sounds crazy, so let’s try it  

What is it?

There is a movement where regular people are turning their backyards into micro farms and doing things like:

  • Growing all the salad ingredients they need for a year (minus the Russian dressing)
  • Growing 100 pounds of potatoes on a tiny patio
  • Raising a couple of chickens for meat and/or eggs
  • Raising Talapia fish to eat
  • Raising rabbits or quail for meat
  • Converting lawns into mini farms producing staple crops like corn and wheat
  • Using things like fences, walls, posts and garages to trellis things like grapes, squash, beans, and melons
  • Growing 100 pounds of garlic and selling it for $10 a pound at farmers markets
  • Raising bees and selling honey for $7 a pound at farmers markets
  • Making your own Beer, Wine, Meade, Cider or Brandy

Why this could be Awesome:

The goal here is that you do these things on your property without anyone really noticing or caring.  The goal is not to start up some “you might be a redneck if” style crazy farm on the lawn and instantly tank the neighborhood housing prices in the process.  With this project the goal is to be clandestine, or at least unnoticeable.  Do it right and neighbors will compliment how well your property looks as you bring them goodies from the garden all year long.  Other reasons this scheme could be awesome:

  • Lower your grocery bills
  • Be totally organic and chemical free
  • Potentially earn income
  • Less lawn mowing / Less using anything that runs on gas
  • Could be Fun

My Situation:

I live in a typical Cape Cod house on a quiet street in a medium sized city in Ohio.  I have neighbors very close on both sides and in the back.  In total I have about 0.3 acres of “land” which consists of a small front yard and a descent sized backyard enclosed in a chain link fence.  I have a tiny 1-car garage, a small patio, and normal guy yard tools.

Research Phase:

I went to the library and to the internet and looked up the following topics:

  • Small space / patio / container gardening
  • Permaculture / food forests / Organic Gardening
  • Homesteading /  Survivalist / Prepper (I’m not a prepper)
  • Aquaponics

Take a look at some YouTube videos on people who have backyard food forests.  Also Jeff Lawton’s videos on this topic are amazing.  I also recommend the book Gaia’s Garden and the website Permies.com

Let’s Do This:

And so when Spring rolled around I began…  The plan was to start small and incorporate little things at a time into my landscape, wait until I was used to them and make sure no one freaked out, and then slowly expand. 

Things I have Accomplished:

I’m on year three now and I think things are going relatively well.  Here’s a summary of things I have been able to do.   Note: Each topic below will have its own full post soon.

  • Toxin Free:  Gave up insecticide, commercial fertilizer and other toxins totally.
  • Compost: Created a composting system that produces about 1 pickup truck load of compost per year.
  • Waste Reduction: Generate zero yard waste.  Generate 1-2 bags of garbage per week, which is a reduction from 5 bags.  This reduction is due to composting, canning, burning paper with wood fires and using ashes in garden, reduction of processed foods purchased, etc.
  • Rainwater harvesting:  Made and Installed 2 Rain Barrels (55 gallons each), with a system to auto water the front yard with the flip of a switch using garden hose and gravity
  • Lawn Reduction:  More than half of my front yard is garden (but doesn’t look out of the ordinary at all).  Converted 1/3rd of my backyard to garden
  • Hugelkultur:  Installed about 56 feet of Hugelkultur mounds
  • Heavy Mulching: Threw down 2 dump truck loads of mulch, 3 pickup load of hay (about 40 bales) and 1 pickup load manure. 
  • Sheet Mulching: Experimented with Sheet mulching using cardboard and other materials to convert lawn to garden without digging.
  • Less Weeds: Cut weeding time down by using mulching techniques as well as chop & drop methods.  (you still get weeds, but less, and easier to pull)
  • No Dig / No till: Gave up Tilling totally.  There are many good reasons to do this. 
  • Less Mowing:  Mow only about 4-6 times a year (due to letting certain “weeds” grow into the lawn such as clover which doesn’t grow very tall).  Also, I mow the front lawn every other time with a gas free reel push mower, which saves gas and is very quiet (and a good workout).
  • Less Watering:  Cut watering in half (because of the rain barrels, a well-placed swale to slow down run-off and Hugelkultur mounds which soak up water like crazy)
  • Perennial Food:  Planted long-term plants such as 2 apple trees, 1 cherry tree, 2 blueberry bushes, 2 raspberry and 2 blackberry bushes, 10 square feet of strawberries, 2 grapevines, 8 asparagus plants.
  • Quasi Perennial Food:  Tomato patch comes back 80% every year from self seeding.  Also get a lot of self seeded greens and squash, by not picking everything.
  • Seed Starting:  Beginning to perfect a seed starting regimen that is actually starting to pay off.  Seed starting takes practice!
  • Big Crops:  Set to plant about 50 garlic plants this year.  Set to plant about 30 potato plants this year (these two plants both can be mixed into the front yard landscape).  Planted about 60 mustard green plants (also a beautiful plant)
  • Medicine:  Growing comfrey to be used for medicinal purposes as well as green manure / mulch.
  • Cool mini-Projects:  Things I have made from my backyard include Grape Juice, Vinegar, Tomato juice, Dijon Mustard, Tomato sauce, Roasted Dandelion Root coffee, Echinacea tincture, garlic braids, burn medicine, flower arrangements, and lots of delicious meals.

Things I want to Try:

There are so many things in backyard farming/ urban permaculture I still want to try. Here is my to-do list:

  • Plant way more fruit trees.  The ultimate goal of the permaculture “food forest” is basically to have tons of food growing everywhere on your property that requires little to no maintenance.  The hardest part should be picking all of the bounty.  Of course a key to this end state is to have lots of mature fruit trees that produce large quantities of high calorie foods year after year.  And even in cold Ohio, we can grow so many different kinds of fruit like cherry, apple, peach, plum, apricot and lots of berry and nut trees
  • Plant a successful cash crop.  I want to sell something at the farmers market!  I think garlic will be my first attempt because it is 100% maintenance free and 99% guaranteed to come up beautiful.  It also sells for a lot of money.  So far I have been eating mine, but each year I plant more and more.  One other nice thing is that you can space them really close together and plant them almost anywhere on the property, including right out in the front yard.  I tried to sell my mustard greens but nobody wanted them :(
  • Get bees.  Although probably not for everyone, I want bees.  There is some cost and some work involved, but you get honey, wax and increased pollination, and that is more than enough for me to want to try it.
  • Meat?  I’m not allowed to have chickens or any animal like that in my city.  Rabbits could work since they are silent and you could raise them somewhere covert and no one would know you had them.  But I don’t think I could kill and clean rabbits I raised.  I looked into pheasant and quail but same thing there.
  • Eggs? I’m not yet to the point where I’m going to defy my local laws and get a couple of chickens for egg productions, but If you are, there is a whole community on the net of covert chicken raisers.  The more hip urban cities such as St. Louis have legalized it, so do some research and go for it.  Don’t get any roosters unless you want to anger everyone within a 5 mile radius.
  • More Mulch!  Once you get into this hobby you quickly find that your soil sucks.  If you have a typical American house your soil is terrible because for the last 50 years your property has consisted of 90% grass which some guy mowed short twice a week and probably dumped mass quantities of weed and feed and other chemicals onto it.  All of the clippings were bagged and sent to the landfill and heavy rains continuously washed away any soil that happened to build up.  The fix is to throw down tons and tons of organic material like leaves, cut up weeds, hay, mulch, coffee grounds, manure, compost, etc.  But if you are a regular person with an office job you probably don’t have access to as much of this organic mulch as you need.  I’m always on the lookout on Craigslist for free manure and mulch, but it can be hard to come by.  You can grow your own, but this takes time.
  • Flowers  I got so caught up with food that I realized I didn’t plant many beautiful flowers that can serve multiple purposes.  I want them for cut flower arrangements as well as for medicinal purposes and sheer beauty.  Next year there will be flowers!
  • Edible Seeds:  I also want to get some edible seeds such as sunflower and pumpkin, yum!  Per square foot, sunflowers are one of the most productive foods you can grow, calorie wise.

So Much Closer

There are three types of reunions for Bellamy and Clarke.

a/n: Contains spoilers for the S4 finale. This three-pronged-reunion was something I mentioned in a conversation with @notyourdaisybuchanan, and thus: this fic. Title from Transatlanticism.

The first time Clarke sees him again, she can’t breathe.

His hair is sheared short, his shoulders thinner, but the way he carries himself as he disembarks the Eligius ship is unmistakable, even with the shackles binding his wrists and ankles. He scowls at the man in a uniform who pushes him down the ramp, and that’s familiar, too.

Clarke is crouched close to the drop of the cliff face, rifle by her side, and all the air catches in her lungs when Bellamy turns her direction. The people around him are staring at the sky, the burned twigs and new foliage just beginning to sprout, squinting against the light of the sun, but he’s scanning the treeline methodically, eyes shifting closer and closer to her little patch of green. Her chest feels like a balloon filled to bursting, so tight it’s painful.

She crawls as far out on the ledge as she safely can, pulled by the same string tied tight around her heart, and watches the light glance off his cheekbones. A sharp bite to her lip just barely keeps her from crying out when he looks at the space she’s hunched among the brush and suddenly halts. He stands stock still for a moment, his eyes so wide that Clarke would swear she could see the whites even from this distance.

When was the last time she took a breath?

A woman with a baton comes up behind him and nudges his back. He stumbles forward, eyes yanked to the rocky path, and all the air rushes out of her in a whisper.


It sounds too loud in the calm of the grove and she slinks back, letting a branch fall in front of her face. She can still see him crane his neck around as the line keeps walking, a chain of people filing out behind him, his eyes searching the spot where she stood.

Clarke lets herself watch for one heartbeat more, then turns back towards the rover. The path weaving amongst the tree trunks doesn’t take much of her focus anymore and she’s grateful for the familiarity now.

They have work to do.

Keep reading

Rehabilitating A Broken Heart  (2)

Bucky x Reader AU

Summary: Bucky Barnes is an arrogant asshole. He loves parties, girls, and having everything revolve around him. After a horrific car accident that causes him to lose his arm, he’s sent to physical rehabilitation where he meets Y/n, a spunky, takes no shit, physical therapist that has Cerebral Palsy. There, a strong connection forms and she shows him the ropes of living a normal life with a disability.

Word Count: 1.9k+

Warnings: swearing i think, angst, descriptions of car accident, uh bucky’s less of an asshole, that’s it i think



Chapter 2: Coming Up an Arm Short

Something’s off the moment I regain consciousness.

I know without opening my eyes that I’m not in my bed. This bed is too hard. It hurts my back, too. It doesn’t smell like home either. I usually had one of Mom’s candles going, and all I smell is disinfectant.

I groan loudly before opening my eyes. I wince against the harsh bright light and turn my head slowly. My body runs cold.

I’m in the hospital.

I don’t know why I’m in the hospital.

Keep reading

We Don’t Talk Anymore: Tom Holland

Word Count: 1.3k
Warning(s): None
Pairing: Tom Holland x reader
Request: Hi! I love your writing, and was wondering if you could do a song fic to “We Don’t Talk Anymore” by Charlie Puth and Selena Gomez.
A/N: First time ever writing a song request based Imagine, so feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Tom lay in his seemingly empty bed, thinking. Thinking about everything and anything as he attempted to distract himself. But his effort was in vein as she somehow had managed to worm her way into his head again, the way she always did.

He wished they still talked.

He wished they still shared laughs.

We don’t talk anymore, we don’t talk anymore
We don’t talk anymore, like we used to do
We don’t love anymore
What was all of it for?
Oh, we don’t talk anymore, like we used to do

Tom grew bitter as he remembered the rumor that went around. Apparently, Y/N had already moved on. She had found the one she’d been looking for. Tom only wished he’d known it was never him, because if he had, he wouldn’t have given his heart up. He wouldn’t have allowed himself to fall so madly in love with Y/N.
It had been months since they had ended the relationship, and Tom was left wondering why he was still so strung up on Y/N. He wondered why it had been so easy for Y/N to move on, and why it was so hard for him to just let go.

I just heard you found the one you’ve been looking
You’ve been looking for
I wish I would have known that wasn’t me
Cause even after all this time I still wonder
Why I can’t move on
Just the way you did so easily

He wanted to see her.

He wanted nothing more than to march up onto her door step, ring the doorbell, and wait for her to open it. He wanted to know how she was doing, and if she was all right. But asking questions like that would lead to answers he didn’t want, answers that he wouldn’t like. He didn’t want to know if the guy Y/N had managed to move on with loved her the way he did. He didn’t want to know if he made her happier than he ever could.

Don’t wanna know
What kind of dress you’re wearing tonight
If he’s holding onto you so tight
The way I did before
I overdosed
Should’ve known your love was a game
Now I can’t get you out of my brain
Oh, it’s such a shame

Tom’s emotions were really just a whirlwind.

Anger, hurt, regret.

Y/N lay in her bed attempting to get some sleep. She’d done everything in her power to keep him from her thoughts, but it was always at night that the memories of him lulled her to sleep.

That we don’t talk anymore, we don’t talk anymore
We don’t talk anymore, like we used to do
We don’t love anymore
What was all of it for?
Oh, we don’t talk anymore, like we used to do

Memories of the nights they spent sitting in his living room, binge watching movies and television programs while cuddled up with one another circled her mind. All the good laughs they shared, and the stupid things they did to accidentally get kicked out of stores.

Y/N had caught wind of the rumor going around about Tom. That he had found someone. The one. Y/N felt inevitably insecure at just the thought of this girl. She was probably everything Y/N wasn’t. Did this new love look into his eyes the way she once did? Was she holding on to him as tightly as she once did?

I just hope you’re lying next to somebody
Who knows how to love you like me
There must be a good reason that you’re gone

Y/N hated that every now and then, she caught herself thinking of him. She hated that she still contemplated marching up to Tom’s apartment and knocking on the door, just to see if he missed her as much as she missed him. But the fear of being wrong stood in her way, acting as the best possible barrier for her way to the one relationship she had where she felt real. Where never felt like she was pretending.

Every now and then I think you
Might want me to come show up at your door
But I’m just too afraid that I’ll be wrong

Don’t wanna know
If you’re looking into her eyes
If she’s holding onto you so tight the way I did before
I overdosed
Should’ve known your love was a game
Now I can’t get you out of my brain
Oh, it’s such a shame

Her only regret, was letting her walls down. The walls she’d worked so hard to build as she grew older that Tom managed to somehow just completely crumble with just the touch of his finger. She regretted giving her heart to him for solely one reason: the memory of him would never leave her. Y/N hated that they no longer talked. That they no longer amused one another with stupid tales of stupid adventures.

That we don’t talk anymore
We don’t talk anymore
We don’t talk anymore, like we used to do
We don’t love anymore
What was all of it for?
Oh, we don’t talk anymore, like we used to do

Like we used to do

Sleep was no longer an option for the two. Hurt and heart ache seeped into their systems and crept its way through their blood systems.

Don’t wanna know
What kind of dress you’re wearing tonight
If he’s giving it to you just right
The way I did before

Tom had an unusually strong urge to just call Y/N. He thought it was bad idea and tried to talk himself out of it, until he decided why the hell not? He had nothing to lose. And maybe hearing Y/N’s voice would once and for all provide him with the closure he so desperately needed.

I overdosed
Should’ve known your love was a game
Now I can’t get you out of my brain
Oh, it’s such a shame

He picked up his phone and went to favorite contacts. Months had passed, and Tom still couldn’t find himself doing simple things like removing Y/N’s number from his favorite contacts list.

That we don’t talk anymore
We don’t talk anymore
We don’t talk anymore, like we used to do
We don’t love anymore
What was all of it for?
Oh, we don’t talk anymore, like we used to do

She picked up after the third ring. “Hello?” She asked into the phone. Tom’s heart constricted in his chest at the sound of her voice.

Don’t wanna know
What kind of dress you’re wearing tonight
If he’s holding onto you so tight
The way I did before
I overdosed
Should’ve known your love was a game
Now I can’t get you out of my brain

“Tom, I know it’s you.” Y/N stated after a short silent pause. A moment ago, Tom had a list and a half of things he wanted to say to Y/N, but now that she was on the line, waiting for him to say something, he had nothing.

“Hi.” Tom breathed nervously.

“Hi.” Y/N answered back in a soft voice. She was beyond over the moon that Tom had called her. She didn’t even care what it was for, she was just happy to see his name flashing across the screen and the picture they’d taken together months before the end of the relationship in the background and so happy to hear his sweet voice.

Oh, it’s such a shame

“I was wondering if we could…” Tom paused, hesitation taking over his system as he contemplated asking her one final time, or completely backing out and ending the call. With one final stroke of confidence, he went on to ask his burning question.

That we don’t talk anymore

“Could we… talk?”

A/N: I hope this is okay… it feels… bad. Like, it’s really bad, but I’ll let you all be the judge of it.Anyway, hey, I’m back. And I have so many imagines to share with you all. And I finished all the requests (well, most of them)

Modern Au Eponine
  • At the age of 16 she began to realise her home life wasn’t ‘normal’. She had made a friend and when she went to his house his mother was kind and welcoming and wasn’t shouting at her or her children 
  • She dropped a glass and flinched. Grantaire’s mum merely laughed as she cleaned it up and told her a story about how they used to call his little sister ‘butter fingers’ 
  • It was the start of an awakening for her. She’d never had to question her parents actions or behaviours because she’d never considered that she shouldn’t trust her parents. That’s what they always stressed. Trust each other, say nothing to anyone and don’t talk to the police.
  • It took her a year to find the courage to call child protective services. It wasn’t for her, she practically spent every night at Grantaire’s home anyway. But her younger siblings deserved better. And Azelma had almost been to juvie once already. Gavroche was hardly ever home and while it used to seem normal it now frightened her how little her parents cared.
  • It didn’t work. The system merely sent somebody to interview her parents, and her father did his usual snake oil trick of seeming like an out of work but loving father. Eponine got her first taste of injustice, and it kept her awake and fuming lit a fire inside of her. Her siblings deserved better, and how many other children who were in worse situations had to go through the same thing?
  • It was Enjolras who overheard her ranting and raving to Grantaire about the system the next day at lunch, and he politely interrupted to extend an invitation to an after school club to them.
  • Eponine was hesitant to attend. She didn’t want to come across just another group of people who talked about doing something but never did. But she went, and dragged Grantaire along with her.
  • After months of attending, she now knew the ABC society was the real deal. They’d thrown more fundraisers, protests, bake sales, sit-ins, information sessions, and flyers then the rest of the schools clubs combined.
  • She bonded with Feuilly the most. He was more than familiar with the delays and bureaucracies involved with the foster system. Not only did they talk about their frustrations but he had ideas on how to fix things, ideas that sort of sounded plausible as well.
  • She moved out the moment she turned 18. Renting a small house with Feuilly and Grantaire and another girl called Musichetta that they met through craigslist. 
  • The process of gaining her child welfare social worker education and license took a frustratingly long time. But she got there in the end, and in the meantime, her sister and brother always had a place to crash in her room. Once she received her license, she was able to find them a better place permanently.
  • She started a voluntary child outreach program with Feuilly. Where children could come for activities, snacks, free counselling or sometimes just a warm place to escape to for a few hours.
  • It wasn’t perfect. There was still so much that needed to be done, and systems with so much red tape that sometimes she cried until very late at night and thought it all pointless. 
  • But she had friends now, a support system, and most importantly, she had hope. She had gotten out, and she could help others get out too.
Tango Through Thick Air

Based off of one of @theprojectava​‘s fanarts for Luro. I literally couldn’t resist.


Kuro convinces Lance to teach him how to dance- neither expected where it would go from there…

(I’ll be honest its straight stream of thought. Fast paced. and I’m happy with it.Roxanne de Tango is absolutely the ending song)

Keep reading

All right, fronds, Tor has announced that starting August 22, they’ll be posting Oathbringer chapters! This is terribly exciting for people who want to read the preview chapters, but for people like me, who want to wait and savor (and liveblog) the whole book at once as opposed to piecemeal and spread out over several months, it’s kind of a source of anxiety…

I know that I’m going to be dodging spoilers for almost three months now (thanks, tor). And while I would never want to dampen people’s enjoyment of the preview novel chapters, I’m adding my request to the pile of people saying, yo please please please tag your spoilers!!! 

Aaaaand as much as I love tumblr, it can be kind of…a complicated endeavor making sure that posts end up where you want them–or don’t. So here’s a friendly review of how to make sure spoilers don’t end up where people who don’t want to see them…won’t.

  1. Read mores are your friends. That little line makes everything so, so much easier to avoid. Read mores are your friends.
  2. Wait until the fifth tag. Here’s one of tumblr’s less well-known features: only the first five tags on a post will show up in the public tag. So if the FIRST tag you put on a post is #brandon sanderson, that shit’s showing up in the #brandon sanderson tag. BUT if you put #one #two #three #four #five #brandon sanderson, (or similar “junk tags”–I tend to use // marks), then we’re all safe. It won’t end up in the tracked tag and it’ll be easier to avoid spoilers in the public, tracked tags. You still maintain organization on your personal blog, because it’s still in YOUR #brandon sanderson tag, but you won’t ruin someone else’s day by having it show up in the public tag with spoilers attached.
  3. The first five tags work the other way, too! No one wants to scream into the void and not get a response–I’m on board with that. So somewhere in your first five tags, put #oathbringer or #oathbringer spoilers or even #stormlight archive spoilers. That way, people reading the preview chapters have a place to go to interact with other people reading the preview chapters, and people who want to go into November fresh and clean and unspoiled can still check the regular SA and Bsandy tags without fearing they’ll get spoiled.
  4. Don’t put reactions in the tags. A lot of people have blacklist settings so that even if a post is blocked, the tags still show up as readable–this makes it easier to see why things were blocked, but it also runs the risk of tags like “#omg and then JASNAH did the THING and I DIED” spoiling even tiny things. Keep tags for…well, tags for a few months, and add additional screaming or reactions to the bottom of your actual post.
  5. Discord and Mibbit are your friends. The nice thing about both messaging services is that you can set up different chats and servers that are subsets of the regular ones. So make a spoiler chat separate from the regular, spoiler-free chat, and go wild.
  6. TAG EVERYTHING! Even if it’s a meme or a stupid shitpost or a vagueblog or something that doesn’t seem like it’s spoilers–TAG IT ANYWAY. If it’s even tangentially related to Oathbringer, TAG IT. Especially memes, tbh. Memes are insidious, and often innocent, but with a closer look, they reveal more than they might have intended. Tag literally everything, even if you don’t think it’s spoilers, even if you think it’s annoying. Those of us avoiding shit will thank you.
  7. KEEP tagging stuff, even after the book is released! Maybe you read the preview chapters and so you’ve got a 300-page headstart, or maybe you speed-read, or maybe you took time off from work just to read, and maybe you finish two days after the book comes out. Keep tagging spoilers. Some people read slower, or have time commitments or work keeping them away from the book, or simply read a few chapters a day to savor it, or want to read faster but can’t because they’re liveblogging it (hello, fronds!). But just because you are finished doesn’t mean everyone else is, and continuing to tag for spoilers is super necessary, even six months–or longer–out from the release date.

All right, I hope that didn’t come out as patronizing or anything. I’ve just found that an occasional reminder of the ins and outs of tumblr’s more useful systems can be super helpful, especially if it’s stuff that newer users might not have encountered yet, like the fifth-tag-rule.

ANYWAY, for everyone starting with the preview chapters, ONLY SEVEN DAYS UNTIL OATHBRINGER!!!! Those of us waiting the remaining 90 days until November 14 thank you in advance for tagging your shit. <3

….shit, 90 days? that’s closer than I thought it was…..guess, I need to get a jump on my WoR reread!!


If you have an issue with me, I’m incredibly happy to speak with you privately and address it clearly. You’re also more than welcome to document any conversation we have. I’m all about transparency, so please don’t be afraid to talk with me. 

While I didn’t intend to stir up the fandom, I deemed it necessary to speak out on this specific issue. Despite an individual’s immense talent and presence in a fandom, their shitty actions shouldn’t be supported or condoned, especially if they’re trying to speak on the topic on morality and justice. 

That said, I’m not trying to destroy anybody’s career or passion(s). I just want everybody to have a clear picture of who they support. When all is said and done, it’s up to individuals to make that choice. Don’t let me influence you, just the evidence I’ve supplied to you. 

I’ve kept a lot hidden from the fandom for years upon years, but it finally ruptured when I saw what had been posted. My emotions are a very flamboyant from time-to-time, but that’s b/c of my love for everybody that’s supported me. I just couldn’t stand to lie to myself anymore. It hurt, a lot. 

Perhaps, I’m weak for that. It depends on who you speak to, but I just have a lot of love to share, and I never want to abandon people. I know that hurt. It’s seemingly endless when you’re in the thick of it, and there’s no reason to simply quite. Not when so many memories have been shared. 

That said, I will continue to stand for what I firmly believe in. I will continue to support those who have felt just like I have, and face whatever consequences that will potentially come my way b/c of it. 

If you don’t want to witness this, I understand. It’s okay! I still love you dearly! 

I’m so appreciative of the support, kindness and love I’ve received over the years on Tumblr, and will always cherish it in my heart. That’s what friends are for, truly and dearly. It’s my followers that made me who I am, provided me with a solid platform to speak on, and helped to validate me and my debates. I owe you all everything! 

Also, I want to GIVE A HUGE shoutout to @snowsflurries and @eternallovezeki! You lovelies are the kindest individuals I’ve ever met. Without you, I’m positive that I wouldn’t have made it out of my own metaphorical deep dark forest, and for that, I’m eternally indebted to you. The love and support I received from you both helped me to keep my chin up and eyes forward. I love you both more than mere words can describe. 

As for my followers, thank you. Thank you for your kind words, the 2 A.M. Skype conversations, the inboxes, the laughs, the smiles, and even the tears. Simply put, I could have never asked for a kinder support network! As shipmates, let’s continue to strive forward and connect with one another!

Same Patterns {Part 3}

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: You and your broken heart now live separated from the Avengers. It hurts, and they all try the same thing to make you come back - but when will it work?

Words: 689

Warnings: General angst.

You still kept the photos, God only knows why. The glass was smashed, some still attached to the frame, but mostly leaving it exposed to the elements, but you could not seem to comprehend throwing it, or burning it. You kept them beside your bedside, reminding yourself why you were living only ten kilometers from your misfit superhero family, but refused to meet them as often as you could. You hated him. You hate that he still had a hold of your heart, despite breaking it in a million shards. You hated that you were so affected by him, when he could easily replace you for someone else.

Keep reading

The Art of Healing Part III: Respect the Clock

It’s the first day of Spring. 

I beg of nature blossom the buds. Let us see what the seeds have been planning—artful architects that they are. 

I need a little spring time. Sprinkle the days with rain; drops decorating fauna; beading them like ladies’ pearls. April is the month of my birth and so anxiously I press under the earth for that first nascent gasp of air.

It’s been a strange time. There are things I want to say but will wait. Everything has its season—its peak ripeness. 

There have been more tears in my recent days than I’d care to explain. I reckon it’s the weather. My insides are getting out their last bouts of winter blues; flushing the system fresh. It is scary to be sad when it’s sunny. That’s why I hated L.A. Come April, 


Fascinating that under a blanket of ice sleep Spring’s new miracles. My father is a gardener, and so I identify with the species that waits until the frost has passed to begin again. 

There are things I would love to say, and will say eventually, because Truth…that audacious thing her… she persists, 

she persists, 

she persists. 

But out of respect of Time I know that now is not the time. 

If you must know I read a magazine article today. I read a magazine article that purported things about my life that were not true. And while my name made no appearance, well, the purported was there. 

And he had called, you know, just a few weeks ago. And the call was seventeen minutes long and we managed to laugh, and I said I didn’t have it in me to be hurt or angry because everything runs its course, and eventually the earth tilts, 

and seasons change, 

and new life grows. 

And behind coffee mugs there lie light plans to perhaps sip and chat (makes you wonder what might be happening in Hollywood) and I didn’t feel the pang of loss, no, I felt relief that my heart was still; calm; unfettered; unaffected. 

I will have to address the magazine, because, well, Truth. But now is not the time. Now we are clearing the way to honor Spring, a more noble and joyous guest–we honor Spring and we honor Time. 

Time has allowed me to slow down and Time is generous in that way. You can speed up, rush madly, or crawl and still be in step with Time; always there with you, beside you, wherever you decide to go and at whatever pace. 

My mother said of mourning: You must respect* the time it takes to heal. 

*Respect. Not “acknowledge,” not “understand,” but respect. 

I have awarded Time slight ownership over my days—given it free reign. And because of respecting Time I am entering my Spring with a healthy amount of fear and a belly full of ambition. I understand that Time wants to lie in bed a little longer; keep me too long on the phone; make me a few minutes late for work. Time wants me wholly because it knows something I do not know. It holds all secrets of forever; is unquestionable in its wisdom; the undefeatable against even the most mighty. 

And so, as if there were ever an alternative, I lay myself at the mercy of Time, its cruelty only appearing in the form of the inevitable. But its tenderness bearing all possibilities. 

Ego Incorporated (pt. 3)

The elevator doors slid open to reveal floor number three. It looked like a super computer had thrown up in here. Huge screens covered every wall in the wide-open space, and several gaming systems, the latest in VR tech from what Amy could tell, were set up but not in use. The entire floor seemed empty save for a single, glass cubicle at the center that was lit from within with a flickering blue light.

Wilford practically danced over to the door, bursting through without so much as a knock and shouting, “Tahdah! Miss Peebles, I introduce you to what is easily the most boring Ego, the lovely Mister Google.” The Ego in question was sitting at his computer desk looking very annoyed. His eyes glowed the same blue of the overhead light, as well as the “G” symbol on his shirt.

“Get out, you useless piece of candy-coated trash,” Google muttered, barely audible.

“That was a colorful insult,” Amy commented, somewhat impressed, and Will giggled.

“I tampered with his speech programming when he was charging and took away his ability to use ‘foul language,’” (He actually used air quotes), “so he resorts to all sorts of funny insults these days,” Wilford winked at the droid who looked about ready to jump across the desk.

“Miss Nelson,” Google said cordially as he turned away from the other Ego. It was scary how fast his temperament could change, “It is pleasing to finally have you here at Ego Incorporated. Please let me know if you have any issues that you would like resolved. We’ve been instructed by Mark, Master of Awesomeness,” (Amy assumed that was a little tweak of Mark’s), “to do whatever we can to accommodate you during your time here.”

There was a knock at the door, and Google snapped his fingers. The door opened on its own—Amy saw that it was automated—to reveal another, much more yellow, version of Google. Oliver seemed downtrodden and genuinely frustrated until his glowing eyes locked onto Amy. The droid snapped to attention and began blushing ridiculously. “Ah, M-m-m-m-miss N-n-n,” Oliver began glitching so badly that he shut down altogether.

Google let out another string of interesting curses and jumped up from his desk. “My apologies, Miss Nelson. His systems have been under stress since Darkiplier requested IT assistance this morning. He will be dealt with accordingly.” His glowing blue eyes, sharp as Wilford’s knives, snapped up to meet hers. “It won’t happen again.”

Amy shook her head and tried to give Google a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but the droid didn’t seem to react to the touch. “Oh, no, no! Don’t feel bad about it. It’s no trouble at all.” She tried to use her smile that always worked on Mark, but Google immediately turned away and began working on the yellow droid.

“Well, this is no fun!” Wilford scooped Amy out of the office and back into the elevator. “And how are you enjoying your tour, Miss Peebles?”

Before she could answer, the elevator’s doors opened, revealing the fourth floor. It was dark with only exposed, orange bulbs hanging from the ceiling to light the way through the labyrinth of bookshelves stuffed with tomes. Amy took a few steps into the room when she heard a feather soft voice whispering somewhere among the stacks.

“The Host is pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Nelson.”

Inked (reader x Steve)

Hey, look! An actual one-shot that STAYED a one-shot. A miracle. This idea came to me like a bolt of lightning last night and I had to put it out there. Let me know what you think! 

And yes I’m still working on the next parts of Accidents Happen AND It Will Always End This Way. Plus a request. And another possible series. Eep! Please be patient with me! I just had to get this drabble done and out of my system. :) 



Inked (reader x Steve)

Characters: reader, Steve, Natasha, Clint, Sam.

Summary: Reader is in her 20s and an Avenger with a bit of a wild streak. Her relationship with Steve is strictly professional until she makes a surprising discovery on a mission. Events occur about a year after CA:TWS. 

Warnings: tattoos, mentions of death, mild violence, sexy fluff. :)

Originally posted by ilikeeeyoux3

(author’s note: gif is not a representative of any tattoos mentioned. I just thought it was cool. :) )

The Quinjet was making its descent as you stood and steadied your self against the cool metal walls, weapons secure on your back. Steve stepped up next to you, slipping on his helmet and securing the strap under his chin.

 “Could you hand me my shield, Y/N?”

“Sure, Cap,” you replied, grabbing the red, white, and blue shield that was leaning against the seats to your left and passed it to the man on your right.

“Thanks. You ready?” 

“I was born ready,” you said confidently. 

He smirked, “Yeah, well, let’s not get cocky.”

You pulled your face into a serious expression. “Sir, yes sir!” you mocked with a salute.

He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. As he turned his attention to Sam on his other side, you took advantage of his distraction as you gave him a good once-over. Man, he really was extremely attractive. That chiseled jaw below piercing blue eyes, broader shoulders than any man should be allowed to have that then narrowed down his torso to an impossibly narrow waist. Impressive thighs, though. You were a sucker for good thighs. Under that kevlar uniform you knew there were also some exquisite abs and pecs to die for, thanks to the outdoor pool at Avengers Tower where the team hung out regularly. Bless Tony Stark for giving you the opportunity to see Steve Rogers shirtless. Hallelujah!

Keep reading


Sammy: Hey, hey, listen to me, we’ll figure it out okay?

Finn: How? How Sammy, we can’t fix this.

Sammy: Ask me that when I have coffee in my system and its not 5am, we’ll find a way. And until then use it to your advantage.

Finn: Advantage?

Sammy: Yeah! Create an entire skin care line, have billy brag about it at school, star in movies, its not all bad finny. We’ll find a way.

anonymous asked:

Hi Keaton! You're a phenomenal writer and one of my favorites so I thought you might be the person to ask. I love to write poetry and have finally found my style so I love to write as much as I can in this style as I just personally love how the words turn out (who knows if it's any good haha). My only worry is that some of my poems are now turning out to sound similar instead of each being its own different creation. Does this ever happen to you? If so how would you fix this? All my love xoxo.

i don’t worry about it. sometimes we need to reuse certain phrases or images until we can get them out of our systems. besides, we don’t hold traditional artists to these standards of making every piece distinctly unique, do we? if picasso can spend years painting in only shades of blue to work through his severe depression, i can work through mine by writing 107 poems about making out with our lord and savior jesus christ in the back of a gay bar, and no one has the power to stop me. yes, i knew what i was doing when i said that jesus was covered in pink glitter and we were both sweaty and hoarse from singing along to beyoncé. it’s called an artistic signature, helen, and


the purpose of this post is to inform and bring awareness to this huge issue that is face everywhere, whether you know it, understand it, accept its reality, or not. But that is not its main purpose. The reason why I am writing this is because I am so heartbroken. I need to get this out of my system. I need to know that, maybe, just maybe, through spreading this story, I may be able to help someone else. But mostly, even if I accomplish nothing with this random, rubbish post, I need to get this out of my system, trust me when I say that. I have not gotten anything done all day and know myself enough to know that until I write it all down I will not get anything else done. skip to the bottom paragraph if you simply want my cheesy, cliche conclusion that I know most of you will simply overlook.

Firstly I will attempt to explain this random post. So I make these fun posts for the ACOTAR fandom, one of my favorites. Mostly these bring me joy since through them I can at least imaging that I made a couple of people from around the globe smile. Or grin. Or laugh. Or simply be happier. They are also so fun for me. Right now though, making some unrelated chat post will not make me feel better, but only worse.

Second, I will tell you the story of a guy I met once. Well not once, he attended my same school. He was not in my grade though, but rather two years older. Either way I will describe him physically. He has that John from the Breakfast club vibe. He even rode a motorcycle to school(this was so shocking because I live in a country where these are not only rare but so are teens who drive. Where I live you can only get your license at 18. Meaning for most people, your parents still drive you to school and back or you take the bus). He was loved by everyone. Trust me on this. Teachers, substitutes, admin, other students, everyone liked him. It was hard not to. He was funny and kind. He was also everywhere. By this I mean he was legit part of every single club available. It was easy to bump into him quite often. There was not a single soul that could say anything bad about him that was true. Trust me on this, because as someone who hates being part of drama but is constantly informed about all the drama going on, I can back up this claim.

Thirdly, I was not close to him. We were not friends, he probably does not even remember my name. To be honest I barely even think of him any more. Why? well he moved schools, no sorry, countries, a year and a half ago. He crossed a whole ocean to never be seen again. That does not mean he was forgotten. On the contrary, everyone would always remember him as a great guy. I had had a conversation with him once which greatly moved me. It actually made my whole day. Sometimes, months and months later, I would still look back on it and smile. He had impacted me in so many ways that I am so absolutely sure he did not even realize. Hell, I did not even realize at the moment but rather weeks later. I guess that how that works. What I need to say with this is that, he was a person who deserved a happy life.

Fourthly, I am shocked. The thing about death though is that it never warns you. I cannot think of a single scenerio in which nobody has lost another person and they have no said “I wish I had had more time.” Yet some deaths come sooner. Today, upon hearing this, my mom said something that was the final trigger that broke down every single barrier that I struggled to keep up and hold back the tears until I could at least be at home. “The best are the ones that fall the quickest” or something along those lines. I wish I could remember it word by word. She may have been quoting someone else, since it did sound familiar (though she said this in Spanish) but that doesn’t matter right now. what matters is that he did not deserve to die. He did not deserve to go. He deserved to be happy. After learning everything he was going through I can just say I wish I could scream this at the top of my lungs. This guy deserved the world. But the world did not deserve him. He was dealing with so much shit, he loved his mum so much, he was so kind when he just didn’t need to be, he was funny, hard working, can you believe that he even got amazing grades? man it just does not make sense. how could he have been stuck somewhere so awful? I tell you this, he was strong. I would not have lasted nearly half as long as he did. Or done such a great job of making the world a better place while suffering through shit no teenager deserved.

Well, what I want to say is this. You never understand a concept unless you have experienced it. Sure I sound cliche as hell but mental illness? Abuse? Suicide? Trauma? all these and so many more and so misunderstood by society. I never thought I would be in this situation. One were I would have to deal with the effects one someone else’s suicide. The only thing I can hope for at the moment is to be more attentive in the future. Listen more carefully. Act with more kindness. Because you being kind to EVERYONE is of great importance. and that tomorrow, once I get to school, no asshole is criticizing him for making the choice he made because it is just as much our fault as anyone else’s. You cannot blame someone for their death if it was caused by suicide just the same way in which you cannot blame them for dying of cancer. It simply makes no sense.

I just want to say, whenever you need someone to rant to, talk to, ask questions to, or whatever the hell you need I AM HERE. I want to be able to do something this time. I was to be able to go to sleep at night knowing that hey if (since I do not want to use his real name I will call him Kyle) Kyle is watching from wherever the hell he is right now, He might understand that he will always be remembered, not as the kid who committed suicide, but the great one who changed the world, no matter how simply, because his life mattered. Just like everyone else’s life matters just the same. And guys, you can never know who is thinking of taking this choice. Never. Trust me on this. It will always be who you least expect. And at least one person you know loves and supports you. I am pretty sure it is quite a lot more than one though. YOU MATTER. and I will ALWAYS respond to anyone’s messages. 

five sets of stairs that would be vastly improved by me shoving drew gulak down them

the world is full of many steps that do good work every day providing a way to reach higher altitudes should you be given the opportunity to use them. however, they are also good for reaching low altitudes, and, in the name of innovation, i’ve decided to propose we improve on this low-altitude-reaching technology even further, by making it quicker, and entirely at the expense of drew gulak. here are five impressive stairs that would become legendary were they to be graced by the bullying, by me, of drew gulak: 

1. The Brief But Undeniably Intimidating Stairs Of The Winchester Mystery House

the stairs of the winchester mystery house certainly live up to the manor’s name, because no, they don’t actually go anywhere, they just hit the ceiling and stop. there’s an allure to their weird house of leaves style internal logic! who would be able to resist going up a few steps? certainly not me. and certainly not local Complete Fucking Dweeb, drew gulak. 

while he is inspecting the walls, and the steps themselves, i will be waiting patiently for the moment he steps back down. i will be crouched on the stairs in wait. he is going to trip over me, and i will instantly wither and die upon touching that accursed man but it will be worth it because soon enough the winchester mystery house will have one more mystery to add to its impressive collection, which is, Where Did This Chalk Outline Of Andrew Gulak Come From, and What Necessitated It? it is simply what’s best for business, and what is best for the world’s peace of mind, knowing that drew gulak has been sufficiently destroyed.  

2. The Admirably Claustrophobic Flørli Stairs

someone had the power to veto the creation of these stairs. to say, “no. not today. surely there must be a better way to go about this, at the very LEAST we could put some space between our systems of pipes and probably hydraulics and these steps. there has to be another way.” 

but the overseers of this project never gave up on their dream. no, in a testament to the human drive to forge onwards, to carry on, to continue on until we’ve come out of our work victorious, the overseers of this project saw it through to its steep, stifled, sadistic end, and they will forever have my gratitude, because i am going to haul drew gulak’s fucked up concave butter bean ass up those steps with false promises of a “take back your life” seminar awaiting him at the top, and then i am going to punt drew gulak down these unforgiving stairs like he is nothing more than a nerf brand football. 

3. A Stepladder That I Bought At Home Depot For A Disappointing But Ultimately Worthwhile Price

these safety steps i definitely own, and do not own only when it is best for comedic effect; these extremely real and existent stairs have sat in my garage gathering dust for what feels like millennia. oh, woe be these tiny baby steps. they serve no purpose to me, not in THIS millennial market, where i don’t do anything but slather avocado butter between pages of newsprint and dm the president of antifa pictures of like, i don’t know, lolcats or whatever thinkpieces think is most scathing over my smartphone. in this modern age, these steps need to be re-imbued with purpose. with VERVE. with droplets of drew gulak’s blood. 

and oh, oh, fortunately, these dinky little steps have one redeeming quality, which is that i can indeed promise drew gulak he will be more visible on top of them, and thus, able to give better presentations in the middle of this wrestling show that he works in wherein he is meant to be wrestling. this will give me the opportunity i need to watch him climb to the top before sweeping his ankles out from beneath him and watching his jaw hit the pathetic excuse for a handrail and just snap entirely in half like a kitkat bar. i will invest in anything; if it means drew gulak gets bullied, then i consider it money responsibly spent. 

4. Morocco’s Unearthly Stairway To Heaven Art Installation

this stairway to heaven (Himmelstreppe) serves no functional purpose, beyond maybe a dual purpose as a sundial, but it IS a very cool art piece in the middle of morocco. the first of a trifecta of such art pieces, actually, senior to the Goldene Spirale and the Stadt des Orion. how fitting, how touching, that wait hold on holy shit i was gonna say how thematically faux-resonant that the eldest of the gold standard be shoved unceremoniously down these stairs, but actually drew gulak’s only 30 and tony nese is 32. ariya daivari is 28 years old. drew gulak is ONLY 30 YEARS OLD??? that…that can’t be right. how can this be. he’s practically an infant. what the fuck. i mean i’m still gonna shove him down these stairs but jesus i need to lie down for a bit i think

5. The Iconic And Infamously Cinematic Steps Of East High School’s Cafeteria

now hold on. i know what you’re thinking. “but buzz, this is a silly joke entry that is only a silly joke!” okay, first, i don’t appreciate your tone or your lack of faith in my honesty and devotion to making good posts on the internet. i appreciate it as much as i appreciate my muscle memory convincing me to type “tony” instead of “tone” five consecutive times just now, which is to say, Not At All. 

secondly, LOOK at these stairs, though. not only do they have a powerful aura of Rude And Uncouth Behavior, courtesy of hit disney film franchise High School Musical, but the geometry of these stairs is such that if you fall down them, you are almost guaranteed to run your forehead into some weird modern high-tech architecture shit. there are so many railings. so many slopes. so, so very many panes of glass. 

drew gulak calls himself The Human Torture Device, but next to these, it is even more embarrassingly apparent that he is just a bunch of uncooked spaghetti noodles in a trenchcoat, and he will shatter the moment you tap his shoulder and send him down these mercilessly cruel high school steps. this…THIS is what comes of your no-fly zone, drew. we’re soaring. you’re flying. there’s not a step on this staircase that your remarkably breakable nose can’t reach. 

in conclusion, i intend to help expand on the technology we have to de-elevate people by shoving drew gulak down as many flights of stairs as we can, and collecting information on stairs, his reaction to them, and how breakable his various bones are, for future use when i sell these secrets to the other members of the 205 live roster. i don’t ask for much. i don’t even ask for cash. all i ask is a promise that this information will be used to bully that block of philadelphia cream cheese until we, as a people, can all unite to shove this twerp into a locker like he deserves. thank you for your time.