wall sitting

  • At volleyball practice yesterday my coach said if we miss three serves in a row we would have to do a wall sit. Two servers just missed their serves and it's my turn to serve.
  • Team mate: Don't miss!
  • Me: But what if I want to do wall sits?
  • Everyone cracks up. I serve and miss.
  • Team mate: Did you do that on purpose?
  • Me: No! I was trying to get it over!
  • Team mate: I don't believe you.
What each zodiac reminds me of:

Aries: random sparks of energy, doodling at night, warm coffee, martial arts, meaningful hugs.

Taurus: laughing so bad you can’t breathe, sentimental conversations, pumpkin muffins, music played loud, family reunions.

Gemini: Wikipedia searches, cute faces, extravagant places, house parties, understanding smiles.

Cancer: pancakes, shy appearance, libraries, fantasy books, seashells with pearls

Leo: fashion walks, old memories, stability, black and white photographs, genuine expressions.

Virgo: newly bought books, home interiors, accepting yourself, strange calming songs, owls and trees.

Libra: marmalade, yellow sunrises, free horses, kind gestures, freshly painted walls.

Scorpio: sitting beside a window at night, passionate and intense conversations, surprise gifts, gentle cuddles, smirking.

Sagittarius: hiking, curiosity, rock/alternative music, sculptures, history textbooks.

Capricorn: writing a journal, family dinners, watching your favourite series, silent communication, flowery fields.

Aquarius: clouds on a nice day, sparkling eyes, goofy jokes, debates, extreme sports/skydiving.

Pisces: group projects, foreign languages, humanitarian works, poetry, when your pet(s) sleep beside you.

To the one that I lost,

Tonight I watched a meteor shower with a boy. He was a very nice boy- more than nice, he was charming and funny and kind, and we ran barefoot under the stars to dance to our favourite song at the party, and he lent me his blue velvet jacket and pulled me up onto the wall to sit with him. And we watched the shooting stars, and he held my hand and turned his head, and we kissed. And it was a very nice kiss. And that’s why I hated you right at that moment.

Because I know, that every time I ever do something like that; watching silver bursts of light on the midnight blue, or kissing someone with the music playing behind my back, or dipping my legs in the freezing river with my party clothes still on, I will think of you. And I will think of running through the sand dunes and lying with you by the fire on the beach and your guitar and your smell and your brown hands and your hands in my hair and your lips on mine and our favourite songs together, and the ones we wrote together, and the nights we would lie under the same blanket I still use and you would just hold me tight and I would never have bad dreams.

So because of you, the poor boy in the blue velvet smoking jacket can text me and ring me and meet me for coffee, but he will never be you. And I will not love him, and I will think of you every time I look into his eyes, every time I see his blonde hair and not your golden hair, and you will follow me to the ends of the earth.

But as much as I hate you for that, I still love you. And I hate that as well. So I will not send this, but I will write the words to get them out of me, because otherwise I will never be rid of you.

With all my love,
Yours.

—  Love Letters at 1.41 AM
It Wasn't Worth All The "Horror Movie Bullshit"

Context: I am DMing a group of players through an amped-up version of the Death House from Curse of Strahd. This is meant to be a one-shot mini-campaign where many (if not all) of them will die, so I’m doing my best to make things as dangerous and scary as possible, including playing creepy music which has them all on edge. The group has made it to the third floor of the house and found two doors, one locked and one unlocked. This takes place after they fail to open the locked door.

Player 1: So the other door is unlocked, right?

DM: Right.

Player 1: I go to open the door… 13 for perception?

DM: As you look around your notice this room is mostly empty save for a desk with a large iron key on top of it. There is also a window on the far wall and sitting on it as a porcelain doll with a faded yellow dress. It’s eyes seem to follow you.

Player 1: Nope! Fuck that! I close the door.

Player 3: But the key! What if it unlocks the other door?

Player 1: Ugh, fine. I open the door again.

DM: You see the same scene, but the doll is no longer on the windowsill.

Player 1: Uh, perception 17 to see where it is?

DM: You cautiously pure around the room, looking for any signs of a faded yellow dress, however seen nothing… Until you look down.

Player 3: NO.

DM: Yes. The doll is standing by the partially open door, looking up at you with blue glass eyes.

Player 2: I roll to fucking punt it across the room! *rolls a 2*

DM: You take a step forward and go to kick the doll with all your might… only to have it grab your boot with its tiny porcelain fingers.

Player 2: HOLY SHIT! BURN IT! BURN IT!

Player 1: I ROLLED A 15 TO CAST FIREBOLT ON THE DOLL!

DM: You hear a high pitched shriek echoing from the room as the doll’s head explodes into flames, it’s worn yellow dress catching almost immediately. You watch in abject horror as it releases its grip and stumbles back. As its hair burns away, its glass eyes roll upwards to look at you before beginning to melt back into its porcelain skull.

Player 3: NOPE! I roll to slam the door shut!

DM: The door slams shut without a problem and the screaming stops abruptly.

Player 1: Guys… we still need that key…

After some argueing about whether or not getting the key and potentially unlocking the other door was “worth all this horror movie bullshit”, Player 1 again steps up.

Player 1: Okay, I open the door again and get a 14 perception.

DM: The first thing you notice is an eerie silence followed by the distinct smell of sulfur and burning hair, and lastly you see the remains of the doll. Her body is charred black, her hair has burned away along with the clothes she was wearing, and the sockets which once held blue eyes are empty, yet somehow you still feel as if you are being watched. She sits upon the desk, holding the iron key in her lap.

Player 1: FUCK IT, I’M GONNA SPRINT IN THERE, SNATCH THE KEY AND GET THE FUCK OUT AS FAST AS I CAN!

DM: Roll me an athletics check.

Player 1: 19?

DM: You do so easily, slamming the door behind you. Congratulations, you got the key.

Queue having to take a 10 minute break as the DM laughed about their reactions and everyone shared their mutual terror of babydolls, agreeing that after this all was over they were going to burn the whole house down.

Tag this with how you’d pass the time and fight off the existential madness of immortality if you were in the 17776 reality

FITBLR CHALLENGE FOR THE MONTH MAY


@mr-adamantiumlegs & @imhellafit have joined forces to host the fitblr challenge for the month May.


If you join us in this challenge you can use the tag: #dontquitwallsit. You can also tag us in your posts and we will support you when it will get tough and It will get tough ^^

“You’re a terrible father” - Tony Stark x Daughter!reader

Love the idea. And really, I kinda take any requests :D. Thank you for this one, it’s right here, hope you like it :

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

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It was the twentieth fucking time you tried to call your father, Anthony Stark, and you fell, once again, on his stupid voice saying that he was “too busy to answer” and that he’d “call back” but “probably not”. Damn that man. 

In your entire life on this Earth, you were pretty sure he never picked you up on time somewhere. Never, ever. He was just always late, so much that you came up with a trick of actually telling the wrong times for him to be on time. If something was at 6pm, you’d tell him it was at 4. But even with that trick, he still often managed to be fucking late. Which is why most of the time, your stepmother came to get you. But Pepper, wasn’t available today. 

You smiled, thinking about your “stepmother”. You were so glad she was in your life, being pretty sure that if your dad never had the help, he probably would have lost custody of you before you reach the age of 1…You considered Pepper your real mother. You never met your biological mom as she just dumped you in front of your dad’s house, with a note. One paternity test later, and it was confirmed you were his…You were the first step to his transformation, the first to help him become the man he was today. Better. 

So you grew up with Pepper around. She filled in brilliantly the mother role, even before she actually started dating your father (you remember the day you finally convinced him to just tell her his feelings, and smiled).

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