well i did sell my car


This ficlet is part of the Jamie Through the Stones AU which starts with Third Time’s the Charm.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from The Reason

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as Written in the Stones

This is an Outlander canon divergence AU ficlet.

Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I did not have time to do research on how divorce proceedings in Scotland in 1958/1959 would have unfolded so this is almost certainly in no way historically accurate. I also don’t care that it’s not.

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anonymous asked:

Not a fuck customers as such, more like a fuck managers. I was lied to by my department manager and store manager. I was told that department was loosing hours so I was being moved to service. Well they've just hired TWO new people for that department. I don't know who to, but I'm going to make a complaint against both of them.

Mal wart did that to me. I was hired in as seasonal and told them I work in a supermarket. It was a conflict of interest to work grocery. I told them I wanted electronics as I used to work in an office supply store selling computers and it would be no conflicts. I was promised it wouldn’t be foods and I was to make “X” per hour (well above min wage) and that it was just to get me in and I would be full time. My wife worked there and we had only one car so I said I had to “HAD TO” have the same schedule. Was told it was no problem.

Well when I did the training the foods manager said I was assigned to him and my check was min wage and when I asked HR about it and was told I was only seasonal and there was a note that I was to stay seasonal. I was lied to. Not just once but many times over. The icing on the cake however was that they had my wife work am and me pm with a two hour overlap so there was no way for me to get to work when she is.

I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. I walked around was given carts full of food to stock but all I did when I came in with my wife was walk around and tell everyone that asked me a question that I was new and didn’t know anything and sent them to the service counter. That went on for two months. No one said anything to me nor I to them. After the second month I get called to the managers office and until that point I had not even met her. She told me that she was told I wasn’t a productive worker and she was letting me go. She told me I was eligible for rehire if I wanted but I just wasn’t a good fit right now. I told her how I was lied to several times and that if she actually wanted good workers in the future to maybe not lie to them before they even start working. The HR assistant was close friends with my ex-wife’s family. I’m not saying that had anything to do with anything but I mention it because she used to work at my supermarket and knew the non compete clause so I made sure my HR knew where I was at all times in case she called in a tip I was working for grocery at mal wart. And of course she did. But I was covered. So last laugh is on me.


Out of Context D&D Quote Starters p.2:

first one here

  • “Your space capitalism is worthless here!”
  • “Oh, those demons and their nougat cream!”
  • “Do you want to wait so I can set you on fire?”
  • “The only flaw in your plan is that reptiles do not produce milk.”
  • “Homebrew? I thought you said GNOMEbrew.”
  • “Are you kidding? I would mount that in a heartbeat!”
  • “You are now the sole resident of Puke-town.”
  • “Which drawer is the spider drawer?”
  • “I’d like to come out of the crate now.”
  • “Are the spiders homosexuals?”
  • “Quick! No time to explain, get in the meat grinder!”
  • “Exactly how many mice are in your pocket at this instant?”
  • “I am not an athlete, but I am a liar.”
  • “I have no gender. Only rage.”
  • “No, we’re going to bomb the shit out of it, go in, kill everyone, and leave.”
  • “I’ve already achieved disco ball form.”
  • “Fuck it, I’m eating my hand.”
  • “Look, seriously, I don’t think I’ve properly articulated just how many spears you were hit with just now.”
  • “All I know is somewhere there’s a lot of naked people.”
  • “It’s a car shop where they sell goddamn zombies!”
  • “To make a long story short, the scorpions have adopted me as one of their own.”
  • “Who isn’t afraid of bullets and wants to answer the door?”
  • “Please stop sexualizing my lobster.”
  • “Whatever their half-baked plans are, we need to make sure they don’t interfere with our own half-baked plans – otherwise we’ll all end up with quarter-baked plans, and that’s practically raw.”
  • “Can I put my lion steak in your icebox?”
  • “Did somebody explode in here?”
  • “Well, that’s just great, we lost our ass again.”
  • “No, I do not want to be doused in acid!”
  • “My colon is full of sword-spiders, I hate this place.”
  • “I’m NOT seducing the bats, I’m seducing the cave!”
  • “I don’t want to die without putting out as much as I possibly can.”

Ok y’all but did I ever tell you the time I actually almost bought the Cursed Majora’s Mask cartridge from a mobile game shop

The story goes as follows:

Me and my family love shopping at garage sales. It helps the community and in return we get cool stuff for hella cheap. Well, every year during the summer, in a little town a few miles from where we lived at the time, there was this Giant festival-like event where people can set up little shops and stands to sell their things.

There was a home-made bracelet stand, a custom car decal shop, and someone even rented out a lemonade truck. There was so much to see and do, and it was so much fun looking at all the things people had made.

I was about twelve at the time and it was my first time at such a big event that wasn’t Pride. I was so excited. The first thing that caught my eye was a pretty large silver truck trailer sitting next to the old metal playground. As I approached with my mom and sister, I immediately took notice that it was a Video Game stand.

I ran from my moms side and entered the trailer. It was well lit and filled to the brim with old and new video games, chargers for 3DS’, and even entire systems to play the games on. I looked at everything: the crappy 3DS games, the old PlayStation games, the Wii games, then finally the Classics. You know, N64 and NES games.

What first took my attention was a Golden Legend of Zelda cartridge, it was polished and shiny under the yellow Christmas lights. Then, as I went to ask my mom if I could have it, I saw a plain grey cartridge hiding inside a box on the floor.

I took it out slowly, really looking at it to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

Written in shiny silver Sharpie said, “Majora.” I put the Golden cartridge back onto the shelf, and walked slowly up to my mom, who was helping my sister buy a charger for her DS. As carefully as I could manage without crying, I choked out, “Can I please have this, Mama?”

She took one look at the price and put it back. I started crying, but she told me that, “20 bucks isn’t worth a crappy game you don’t even have the system to play it on.”

So yeah, my mom roasted BEN Drowned and told me to fuck off in the same sentence. I’m still salty.

Today, I fucked up... by pranking my roommate my scrambling all his eggs, putting the scrambled eggs back in the carton, and telling him he bought "Pre-Scrambled Eggs".

My roommate goes shopping on Sunday evenings. He bought a carton of eggs. Last night after shopping he went out, and I knew he’d probably not be back that night.

So I decided to scramble every egg from the carton. I ate some of them (It was always my intention to replace the egg carton, just to get that out of the way), and the rest I stuffed the scrambled egg back into the carton. So it was just a carton of scrambled egg.

Then on the back of the carton I wrote “Pre Scrambled” in marker.

This morning I hear my roommate exclaim “What the fuck!?”

I ran into the kitchen and saw him staring dumbfounded at the carton. He kept looking from me to the carton and back. “Did you buy the Pre-Scrambled kind?” I asked.

He looked at me like I had just spoken Saturnian, so I repeated my question. “The fuck do you mean?” he replied.

I took the carton from him, acted like I was carefully examining the packaging, and then pointed out the writing on the back. Pre-Scrambled. “Yeah, you bought Pre-Scrambled Eggs,” I said.

He looked as perplexed as it is possible for a person to be. Maximum perplexness.

I put on an act of being amazed that he had never heard of Pre-Scrambled eggs, and about how I always check the back of the carton to make sure they aren’t Pre-Scrambled.

He stammered something along the lines of “But what…but why…how…why would they…what the…why…”

I was about to reveal it was a prank when he suddenly got very serious and intense, like a late-season Walter White sort of vibe, and he said “Fuck no. Not my eggs.” Then he wheeled around and marched out of the apartment. Out to his car. And he left.

I was a bit concerned. And probably should have shouted after him before he left. But I didn’t.

So like 40 minutes pass and I hear our apartment door open, and I hear “I’m banned! I’m banned from the Stop & Shop! Banned!”

I walk out to the kitchen with some apprehension. He looks enraged. “Banned!” He dropped the egg carton on the floor. “Did you fuck me!?”

He wasn’t taking it well.

“They don’t fuckin sell this shit!!! Did you fuck me!?”

At this point I admitted to pranking him. And I apologized. He just stared at me for a moment, then shouted something like “You’re buying me fucking new eggs!!” Then he slammed his bedroom door. Then he opened it and yelled “I have to drive to motherfucking PATHMARK, are you kidding me!? You go too far!! FUCK!!!” And slammed the door again. Then he opened it again and shouted “STOP LAUGHING!!!” and slammed the door again.

I do feel bad about this because it was never the intention of the prank to get him banned from the supermarket. I have already replaced his eggs and I am in the process of thinking up some way to make it up to him regarding his banishment.

TL;DR - Accidentally got my roommate banned from the supermarket when I convinced him they sold him “Pre-Scrambled” eggs.

Check out more TIFUs: Internet`s best fuck ups are here.

Today, I fucked up by pranking my roommate...

My roommate goes shopping on Sunday evenings. He bought a carton of eggs. Last night after shopping he went out, and I knew he’d probably not be back that night.

So I decided to scramble every egg from the carton. I ate some of them (It was always my intention to replace the egg carton, just to get that out of the way), and the rest I stuffed the scrambled egg back into the carton. So it was just a carton of scrambled egg.

Then on the back of the carton I wrote “Pre Scrambled” in marker.

This morning I hear my roommate exclaim “What the fuck!?”

I ran into the kitchen and saw him staring dumbfounded at the carton. He kept looking from me to the carton and back. “Did you buy the Pre-Scrambled kind?” I asked.

He looked at me like I had just spoken Saturnian, so I repeated my question. “The fuck do you mean?” he replied.

I took the carton from him, acted like I was carefully examining the packaging, and then pointed out the writing on the back. Pre-Scrambled. “Yeah, you bought Pre-Scrambled Eggs,” I said.

He looked as perplexed as it is possible for a person to be. Maximum perplexness.

I put on an act of being amazed that he had never heard of Pre-Scrambled eggs, and about how I always check the back of the carton to make sure they aren’t Pre-Scrambled.

He stammered something along the lines of “But what…but why…how…why would they…what the…why…”

I was about to reveal it was a prank when he suddenly got very serious and intense, like a late-season Walter White sort of vibe, and he said “Fuck no. Not my eggs.” Then he wheeled around and marched out of the apartment. Out to his car. And he left.

I was a bit concerned. And probably should have shouted after him before he left. But I didn’t.

So like 40 minutes pass and I hear our apartment door open, and I hear “I’m banned! I’m banned from the Stop & Shop! Banned!”

I walk out to the kitchen with some apprehension. He looks enraged. “Banned!” He dropped the egg carton on the floor. “Did you fuck me!?”

He wasn’t taking it well.

“They don’t fuckin sell this shit!!! Did you fuck me!?”

At this point I admitted to pranking him. And I apologized. He just stared at me for a moment, then shouted something like “You’re buying me fucking new eggs!!” Then he slammed his bedroom door. Then he opened it and yelled “I have to drive to motherfucking PATHMARK, are you kidding me!? You go too far!! FUCK!!!” And slammed the door again. Then he opened it again and shouted “STOP LAUGHING!!!” and slammed the door again.

I do feel bad about this because it was never the intention of the prank to get him banned from the supermarket. I have already replaced his eggs and I am in the process of thinking up some way to make it up to him regarding his banishment.

TL;DR - Accidentally got my roommate banned from the supermarket when I convinced him they sold him “Pre-Scrambled” eggs.

Follow TIFU: Internet`s best fucked up stories are here. | cr

greenpeaceofass  asked:

hello Stiefvater. I, like many of your literature car nerd followers, am very curious as to what happened to the evo? It's usually only Volkswagens that spontaneously ignite, so this raises some questions. hope it gets fixed soon!

Dear greenpeaceofass,

This is a very long story. This is a long story about fire. It begins months ago when I decided to sell the Datsun that I hated and use the proceeds to put a new engine and turbo in my Evo, and was then challenged to a race with John Green via Twitter. Everything was going well. A man who called himself the Manski put in the engine and turbo, and then a man who called himself Greg was supposed to tune it. The tuning did not go well, and it took a very long time, and instead of getting the car a month before the race, I got it two days before I had to leave Virginia for Minneapolis (via my event in Nashville).

Things went pear-shaped nearly immediately. 

Cue multiple calls and texts exchanged with my shop back home, stops at auto parts places along the way, and hasty decisions about whether or not the car would be race-able in three days. Go on, they told me. Go on.

But by the time I got to Minneapolis, things seemed to be devolving under the hood. It was one day before the race. 

A reader picked me up from the shop and took me to NerdCon in time for my signing — we are now friends for life — while I waited for word about whether or not my car would survive for the race. The word on the street came back: yes, but you have no first gear or anything under 2,000 RPM. Don’t sit in traffic but you should be fine (for those car people following along at home, it was not the clutch, it was a problem with the VVT)(i.e. this is foreshadowing).

By the time I got to the race, the car was sounding pretty ill under 2,000 rpm but sounding pretty sick! over it, and so we proceeded.

I had not met @fishingboatproceeds in real life, and he wasn’t at all what I expected. I guess I thought he would be less of the human-shaped fear container that he said that he was on the internet. But no. He appeared to be a 6 foot manboy with a giant, curious mind strapped to a fallible and anxious brain. There was no bravery involved with me — I am devoid of fear — getting into a car for a race. There was a lot of bravery involved in John getting into a race car. He was clearly both simultaneously terrified and going to do it anyway.

Right before the race, he said, tenderly, “I hate you.”

We raced. There were to be two heats. In the first, John Green set his car on fire. 

I thought that this was the end of it, that he would never get back into the car (particularly as quite a few people, including his wife, were shouting DON’T DO IT JOHN), but he did. We raced. He won! Trophy! Excitement! Yay woo!

I was emboldened by my car failing to blow up to this point, so I decided I was really going to actually do this thing. No more playing around. I turned off my traction control so that my car’s ass would turn out nicely, and for the second heat, things proceeded slightly faster:

At one point, I slowed down to see if John was still anywhere on the track, as it had been so long since I saw his car anywhere behind me that I thought I’d missed a flag or that he had set his car on fire again. I had not missed a flag. He did, however, set his car on fire again. I proceeded into victory lane as they once again extinguished his car. 

KT, the track promoter, then danced out to my car and asked me if I would race again, this time against their compact class. “Why?” I asked. “Because you’re fast!” she replied. 

I did.

After I won, they invited me to come back to their track any old time … with a slower car. 

So everything was grand. John was still alive even though he’d set himself on fire, I was feeling pretty great because I heard readers talking about the Raven Cycle in the stands, everything had been tremendous fun, and my car was still alive. A++. Princeton Speedway, you guys were amazing. Readers, you were amazing. We raised nearly $3,000 for our charity, Driver’s Edge.

Then, after one day at NerdCon, I set off for home — a 17 hour drive. I made it to Indiana before getting pulled over. And I made it to Ohio before I caught on fire.

(for the car people following along at home: sudden loss in oil pressure. smoke! damn it)

Here is the guy named DJ who had been attentively watching me drive peacefully along the Ohio Turnpike and was thus able to pull over quickly and use water bottles to extinguish my car (he was traveling with a man named Victor. Or Viktor. I did not ask. Victor/Viktor said I had ‘a famous face’ so I am partial to him.)

Here is every warning code on my car lit up like a holiday decoration, if the holiday is one where you set cars on fire:

Here is a man named Scott putting my Evo on the back of a flat bed:

Here are the pieces of engine that a man named John gave me the next morning after I had spent the night alone in a Toledo, Ohio hotel room and rented a soulless car to take me the remaining 9 hours home.

Why? is the question everyone asks me. Why has your car caught on fire, why did John Green set his car on fire, why is everything fire? John’s car lit on fire because he operated both his brakes and his gas pedal at the same time, which is ill-advised. My car caught on fire because it was leaning out, which means that it was not getting enough fuel and when there is not enough fuel to burn, the gigantic engine decided instead to burn metal. This is also ill-advised.

Will it be okay? is the next question everyone asks. No. No, it will not be okay. It is traveling back on a flatbed and will almost certainly need to be rebuilt in a pretty conclusive and expensive way. Will I be okay? Yes. If I ended the story here, it would be a tragedy, but I’m going to choose to assume this is just a cliffhanger. The Manski has already promised a glorious epilogue. 

That was the long answer.

The short answer was:




tenderstatue replied to your post: Took five hours but I am now leasing a new car!…

I loved my lease! It’s basically a long-term rental, but it’s nice not to have to worry about maintenance and stuff.

i’m really happy with it! the free maintenance was a definite selling point, and good lord is it a step up driving a new car from my 20-year-old one, lol! (sadly not an exaggeration at all, it was literally a ‘97… and not well maintained by its previous owner, lol) 

Fireproof part 6 | a danisnotonfire imagine

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Do not move. Do not move. I repeated this in my head the second I felt myself wake up with a hangover that I was sure would take my life. I could still hear the music from the other end of the house, it wasn’t as loud as last night but the vibrations I could feel through the floor up on to the bed were certainly not helping my situation.

 As I lay in this strange bed for what felt like forever I could feel myself becoming less and less nauseous which was nice but I wasn’t about to risk moving and projectile vomiting all over the place. I suddenly heard the door open then close I was sure it was Louise but when I slowly opened one eye to see who it was I was most certainly not expecting the face I saw.

“Good morning” Dan smirked. He was leaning against the wall next to the door frame with the most smug little smile on his face.

“Fuck off” I immediately replied pulling the covers up over my head. I heard him laugh then walk over and sit down on the double bed next to me, he then proceeded to pull the blanket half off me.

“Aww come on, don’t be like that” he chuckled.

I groaned and tried to pull the blanket back up again but I couldn’t reach it without moving my head. “What the hell happened?” I asked rather curious as to how I got this drunk.

“You don’t remember?” He sounded a bit surprised then quickly gained his composure again. “Well you couldn’t keep your hands off me so I brought you back here and we had wild sex in my bed” he stated with such confidence I almost believed it for a second.

“Oh great” I started off sarcastically “care to inform me of how many STI’s I’ve contracted simply by being in this bed?” It then dawned on me the Dan lives with Phil, how come no one knew that?

“Probably none” he answered calling my bluff. “But I would probably stop by a clinic to get checked out if I were you” he added chuckling.

“Fuck you” I moaned burying my face back into the pillow.

“You can’t stay here all day you know” He added pulling the rest of my blanket off me then getting up and walking out. I was so confused for a moment that I had nothing to respond with. What time was it? He said good morning right? Dan then turned back before he walked out the door looking me up and down. “Nice ass” he remarked before walking out, my dress must have ridden up but I honestly don’t care that Dan Howell has now seen my less than conservative underwear.

He left me in a slight state of panic, so many unanswered questions like did we actually have sex? Where’s Louise? Where’s PJ? Where’s all my stuff? How long have I been here? Where’s Phil? I could feel a panic attack coming on as all the blood drained from my head, I suddenly felt cold and like I was about to throw up but not from the hangover. I looked around and noticed an empty bucket next to the bed, I quickly leant over the edge of the bed and proceeded to throw up mostly liquid.

Dan must have heard me because he ran in pretty quickly. I’ve never seen him run, he always had a reason to get out of sport. I managed to see him roll his eyes and walk out while I was still throwing my guts up. Fucking dick.

I continued emptying my stomach of all its contents and dry heaving until I heard a plonk on the bed side table next to me. Dan had returned with a huge glass of water. I thanked him then began taking little sips as to not throw it up. He just stood there and looked at me.

“What?” I asked slightly annoyed. Dan just looked at me and shook his head. “Okay well I’m just gonna head off then” I snapped. He was making me ridiculously angry about how smug he was being and that he wasn’t telling my anything.

“Good luck” Dan replied, not explaining any further. I just looked at him putting on the best bitch face I could making it clear I wasn’t in the mood for games, it must have done something because he continued speaking. “Louise took your car home this morning, I’m taking you home” he stated like I should have already known this.

“I’d rather walk home then get in a car with you right now Dan Howell” I answered with venom.

“Alright, well it’s raining, I’d offer you an umbrella but I don’t have one soooo..” he trailed off waiting for me to crack.

“That’s fine, better get going now before it gets any heavier.” I felt relatively fine now so I got up and walked right past him brushing my dress down as I went.

“Wait, you’re actually going to walk home?” Dan asked confused.

“As I said I’d rather walk then get in a car with you, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do” I smiled at him. I noticed that my phone and bag were sitting in a neat pile on the kitchen counter. I picked them up, slung by bag over my shoulder and started down the stairs. Dan continued to follow me.

“You can’t walk home, it’s pouring outside!” He exclaimed.

“It’s hardly drizzling…” and almost as if on cue, there was a big clap of thunder but I wasn’t about to succumb to what he wanted. “I’m gonna go now, thanks for letting me stay in your room” I waved good bye, Dan just stood there.

The second I got onto the road I immediately regreted this decision. What the hell was I trying to prove besides that I’d rock up to school on Monday with a cold? This was stupid, I should of just let him drive me home.

I was probably about 200 meters down the road when I heard a car slow down beside me. I knew it was probably Dan so I just kept looking forward and kept walking without glancing at the car. The car followed me for a few meters before I heard the window unwind and a voice, which wasn’t Dans, yell out at me.

“(Y/N)! Can you please get in the car and I’ll take you home?” It was Phil. I probably should have at least looked up to see who’s car it was. Phil drove a normal sedan but it was always a different one when a newer model came out, Phil was known for selling his barely used cars to kids at school. “Come on (Y/N)! Just get in the car please” Phil called.

I didn’t say anything but I didn’t want to walk home in the rain either, I still had quite a while to go. I climbed in the car next to him and wiped my face. “Thanks” was all I said.

“Well, it’s not really me you should be thanking. Dan sent me to get you” Of course he did.

“Why didn’t he come and get me himself?” I asked annoyed at Phil now.

“For many reasons I guess. One, he said he didn’t want the inside of his car wet” Phil giggled. “And two, he knew you wouldn’t get in a car with him” he explained never taking his eyes off the road.

“He didn’t want to get the inside of his car ruined? Seriously?” I said with disbelief, Dan is just as shallow as I thought.

“Now Now, you have to understand that Camaro is like Dan’s baby. He fixed it up all by himself, it was a piece of shit when he got it, now its practically a race car” I thought I heard Phil chuckle at the end but I couldn’t be sure.

“Whatever just take me home please” Phil just nodded and kept driving along the road to my house.

The next 5 minutes were filled with a slightly awkward tension. I wanted to ask questions and I feel like Phil knew that but he remained silent. Even if I wanted to ask something I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

After another few minutes I decided my time was running out as we were almost home so if I wanted to know anything now would be the perfect time to ask. I asked the first thing that came to my mind.

“Can Dan actually compose music?” Stupid question but I think it might be a good Segway in the short amount of time I have.

“Not the question I was waiting for you to ask but alright” Phil laughed “yeah, Dan can compose music… sometimes” Phil chuckled again.

“Huh” was all I could manage. I felt stupid for asking that question and he didn’t give me anything to go off so I didn’t say anything and continued the awkward silence until we got to my house. Just as I was about to say thanks Phil spoke up.

“You should humour him (Y/N)” Phil said with a hint of sadness.

“And why should I do that?” I demanded.

“I’ve never seen him like this before, he actually smiles now” Phil said, his words still laced with that element of sadness.

“Well that was incredibly corny” I laughed. “Definitely my queue to leave, thanks for the lift!” Just as I put one foot on the ground Phil grabbed my wrist. I looked at him slightly shocked but as soon as he saw my face he let go. I sat there waiting for him to say something.

“(Y/N), please?” Phil begged, he had some weird puppy dog eye thing happening that was very convincing.

I rolled my eyes at him “Fine, I’ll see what I can do” I groaned getting out of the car.

“Don’t act like you aren’t attracted to him, I’ve seen the way you look at him” Phil laughed then drove off before I could even begin my argument.

I stormed though my front door thinking about how I still don’t have any answers to the thousands of questions I have about last night, and how I was slightly mad at Louise for leaving me there. As I made it up to my room I actually looked in a mirror and realised how much of a mess I looked like. My hair was matted to the back of my head and I had mascara all down my face, I desperately needed a shower.

About half an hour later I emerged from the shower feeling so much fresher. And just on queue like the lightening, my message tone went off. I knew who this would be from and I wasn’t wrong when I unlocked my phone.

Have questions?

Of course I had fucking questions, are you kidding me?

Yes I have questions, care to answer them?

I replied, I know his answer will be sarcastic or taunting in some way. Either that or he would make me do something for his answers. The reply came almost immediately.

I’ll answer them if you have dinner with me tomorrow night


A/N yup im sorry… tell me what you thought hererer, or tell me something interesting whatever you want! sorry again. also i didn't proof read this, i never do xxxxx

Reader comes back from Hell
Request: this is a really weird request but can you do one where reader is Sam and deans sister and reader and demon! Seth green (kind of like how snookie was a demon) have a one night stand after she goes to hell for selling her soul, and he let’s her go after and Sam and dean believe it’s her when they meet back up and they find out she had sex with the demon but since they assumed it was to get her out of hell, they let that one slide. To add to my request no need to be smutty, just imply they had, had sex, and it actually to get out of hell, she actually liked it, but she never tells sam and dean that.Request: OMG! I love your blog, could you do one where’s the reader sold her soul to save dean and she only got a year and then after like 2 months after the reader has died she comes back and she goes to bobby first, who then tries to kill her before she explains, after she explains everything he helps her find the guys and once she does, after they splashed her with holy water and she cuts her self with a silver knife Sam and dean hugs her tightly and Sam tells her about his feelings toward her? How were you going to explain this to Sam and Dean? Or Bobby? He still thought you were a virgin when you went to Hell, for God’s sake! And now you were out. You still couldn’t believe it yourself.

Keep reading

Hiya everyone! With the amount of fics I read, and as people sometimes ask me for recs, here it is. My oldies and newbies but goodies fic rec, with both new and older fics that I liked/loved, that I read for the first time or re-read, or alternatively and very creatively titled “Weekly Fic Recs” (this one is a bit late because of some issues with Tumblr). In no particular order:

1. Fire For A Heart, by  @stylinscripts  and @tvshows-addict

The Grey’s anatomy/Chicago Fire AU no one asked for where Louis is the captain of the firefighting Squad 78, Harry is a surgeon, Zayn is Louis’ second in command and Liam is the rookie. Niall and Sam are Harry’s fellow residents and have their own affair going on. (Aka, “the Toast Fic”. Listen, read this, you won’t regret it. Warning: Major character death, but it happens in the 2nd chapter and the first chapter can be read on its own and it’s soo good and fluffy and smutty (the death chapter is very very well written though if you want to read it).

2. All the Right Moves, by @cherrystreet

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back. There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything. It’s seriously obnoxious. (Honestly, I recommend reading anything by this author who is definitely one of my favs. This story is cute and funny and just amazingly well-written.)

3. You watched me sink, by bananasandboots (@anylessreal

They’ve discussed it a few times - the boyfriend thing. It’s not like it’s some forbidden, horrific, abandon hope all ye who talk about furthering the relationshipsort of subject. They’re mature adults. They’re in tune with their feelings, their hearts’ desires, the way those butterflies swoop in their bellies whenever they so much as hold each other’s hands. They like each other. A lot. It’s mutual, they know. But for now, they’re just content to enjoy the simplicity of what they have, and what they have is great. When dating in secret stops being enough, then they’ll discuss that too.

Or, the one where Harry teaches Sex Ed and sneaks around with the drama teacher, and doesn’t realize how out of tune he is with his true feelings until everyone else figures it out for him.

(Hot, and cute, and funny, and slightly angtsy, and then funny, and cute, and HOT.)

4. a fully armed battalion (to remind you of my love), by anonymous for the H/L Spring Exchange

Everyone at Hogwarts knows that Professor Styles and Professor Tomlinson absolutely despise each other. It’s too bad that they’re in love.

(It’s BOTH an Enemies to Lovers AND a HP AU. What more do you want?)

5. baby got blue eyes by @bottomlinsons

A college/uni fic. Harry has been working on a mural and has been struggling to find the right shade of blue. Until he meets Louis. (Essentially, a very silly take on what could have otherwise been an incredibly romantic tale!)

(I like this author very much a lot and this one-shot definitely didn’t disappoint. Clumsy goofy Harry is the best kind of Harry.)

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bookboyfriends  asked:

Dear Maggie, when you have handed in THE RAVEN KING to your editor, would you be ever so kind as to explain what all the things are on your office's back wall? Urs, Renee.

Dear bookboyfriends,

One of the pleasures of home ownership is being able to hang crap on your walls in a very real and permanent way, your body full of the glow that comes from knowing no one can complain of the nail holes.

I can explain the things on the wall, but I don’t know if I can do it succinctly. The wall is physical evidence of THINGS THAT GO: The Maggie Stiefvater Story.

A lot of the things on this office wall are about endings and beginnings: I painted the bodhrán drum after I dissolved my last official Celtic band. The wolf eyes photo was a present to myself when I finished the Shiver trilogy, because, get it? The car photo was the first time I took my ‘73 Camaro to the track. The painting of the girls was the first one I did where I could see my specific art style starting to come together. The license plate — well, I’ll save that for last.

I bought the moon at an art show back from my professional artist days when I used to spend weekends in a booth selling prints. The painting of the trees is from an old artist friend, too, from when I was in a group that used to challenge each other to paint a complete work every day.  

The horses are frames from the Scorpio Races trailer I animated. I painted the  tall skinny painting of the Camaro leaping from a high rise building ‘cuz we all need tangible reminders of our life goals.

The framed Printz honor for The Scorpio Races hangs above everything like a fearful warning to pay attention to my adverbs.

The dagger is a Lord of the Rings Sting letter opener. 

The horseshoe, keys, and metal handle are ye olde things to remind me of the favorite house we lived in when I was a kid — we moved over a dozen times — an old creepy place built in 1730. The horseshoe is hung right way up to hold the luck, one will notice.

Meaningful Photos! Photo, left: the first time I went to the UK, and also the only time I can recall crying out of happiness. Photo, right: the only wedding I wasn’t bored at and the only time Lover has worn a bow tie.

(81: the year both I and Britney Spears were born)

Photos on left! Top photo is Whitby Abbey, a place whose 199 stairs I dreamt of before discovering it was a real place and promptly booking plane tickets; it’s a reminder that sometimes dreams are important. The middle is Thing 2 a long time ago and the bottom is Thing 1 a long time ago; these are the creatures I made in my womb.

(Those are not really their names, though I did really make them in my womb.)

And then, the license plate — have I told this story before, bookboyfriends? I feel I have: it’s from my first car, acquired shortly after beginning college:

Back then I was a competition bagpiper. I practiced four hours a day, which might not sound like a lot but it sort of was. That car was totaled by a drunk driver pulling out of a Catholic church; I wasn’t killed, but my piping career was (my teeth were smashed in, and you need them to play the pipes.) I kept the plate because it’s good to have tangible reminders that sometimes the universe can only change your direction by sending a van through your windshield.

I can never manage to tell stories succinctly.

The sequel will be even longer, I bet.



The Car

Throughout my life I never really believed in the paranormal. About two and a half years ago, that belief changed.

I was about to turn sixteen years old, and I was excited only about one thing: cars. Cars and driving had been my only focus and reason to live for the last year of my life. I loved everything about cars: the raw power, the way you can tinker with them, the freedom they bring. Cars were my life. I had been saving up money from birthday gifts/odd jobs/etc. since I was 12 to pay for a car. My grandfather generously told me that he would be more than happy to buy me a new car from the Chevrolet dealership in town (he used to work for GM), but I told him that I wanted to buy the car with the money that I had saved up, and he thought it was a great idea. So one day, about a month from my birthday (my birthday is in late October), my grandfather and I set out to see some used cars we had found online. We had seen about twelve different cars, each in its own state of disrepair, before we found my dream car: A 1996 Jeep Cherokee. Forest Green, 4x4, and just one somewhat large ding near the front left wheel well. It had 170,000 miles on it, but I was not planning on driving it for more than three years or for a very long distance, so that was okay. The best part was the interior. The rather elderly man who was selling the Jeep must have had OCD or something, because there was not so much as a fingerprint in the whole entire inside of the car. Perfect. The only wear I could see on the inside is that the radio did not work, but I had planned to put an aftermarket radio inside it anyway that I could connect my phone to and stuff like that. The best part about it was the price, $1500, which was a complete steal since it had all its records and had a clean title. Other cars priced the same sometimes didn’t even have an engine. My grandfather and I were convinced that this car was perfect. Before I purchased it, however, I asked the elderly gentlemen how the ding in front of the front-left wheel well happened. “It’s a kinda funny story,” the old man replied, “I was drivin’ down the farm-to-market road one night around three in the morning. It was dark out, and I was admittedly drivin’ a little bit faster than I should have for that kind of road. I rounded a corner, and there were tons of vultures picking off a carcass on the left side of the road (I live in Central Texas, about an hour’s drive north of Houston. Deer, possums, and skunk are commonly hit in the back roads here). Well, since they weren’t on my side of the road, I didn’t slow down. When I got closer, I guess I spooked ‘em, and they flew straight in front of me. I swerved to try and avoid them, but I ended up hitting that carcass and one of them buzzards flew straight into the side of the car here” and he pointed at the dent. That story added up, my grandmother had cracked her windshield one time by hitting a flying buzzard, so I knew what those things could do to a car at high speeds. I did one last inspection of the car and the engine, found it to be nearly perfect, and started to write the check. The old man placed his hand on mine, and softly said, “you know, you seem like a really good kid. I’m an old man, I don’t need money that much. $1000 will be fine, you don’t need to pay $1500.” My heart leapt into my throat. It was one of the most generous things anybody had ever done for me. I paid the $1000, awkwardly hugged the old man in thanks, then left in my beautiful “brand new” jeep with my grandfather.

Time passed. I turned sixteen in late October. Things were perfect. Things changed.

It was around the middle of November. Thanksgiving break was upon us. My classmates and I were giddy with the thought of not having school for a couple of days. I was an avid Orchestra member, and loved to play in school plays and musicals. Since I signed up for the school musical, I had rehearsals every day until about 10 p.m.. On the last day before Thanksgiving break, we had an extra long rehearsal until 1 a.m. since the director knew that we would not be practicing over Thanksgiving break (which he was right about). The practice ended, and the entire cast staggered out of the auditorium exhausted, yet happy it was over. We all shared a few laughs in the school parking lot for a while, then we all got in our cars and started the drive home. It was very dark on my way home, and there were hardly any cars around. I was going around a corner when terror set in. I slammed on the breaks so hard that the ABS set in, and stopped about 18 feet from about twenty buzzards picking off of a deer carcass on my side of the road. Heart still pounding from potentially devastating experience, I turned my wheel to move around the carcass. That’s when one of the buzzards stepped away from the carcass and moved to the left side of the road to block my path. I could not believe what I was seeing. This bird was intentionally getting in the way of a car. I honked and honked, but none of the buzzards even flinched, and they all stayed in place. Frustrated, tired, and scared, I started to inch my way forward towards the buzzard, knowing that its animal instincts would make it move when I got close. It got to the point to where I could not see the buzzard since it was so close to the car that the hood blocked it from my view. I was debating whether or not to get out of the car to scare it away, when an extremely large BANG resounded through my car. A buzzard had flown into my car window on the right side. In my terror, I slammed on the gas. At the same moment I felt my wheel crunch the buzzard in front of my car, an ear-splitting scream pierced the air. Scared witless, I accelerated as fast as I could and got out of there, the scream still reverberating through my mind. The scream sounded more than what a buzzard could make. It sounded human. Almost.

I was traumatized by the night’s events. I told myself that those birds probably had rabies, and that’s why they were so oblivious to my presence. I soon passed the events off as a weird occurrence, and continued on with my life. Things were bad. Things got worse.

It was the day before Thanksgiving. I had helped my mom prepare most of the food for the next day, and in return I was allowed to go spend some time with my friends. I was planning on leaving around midnight, but at around 10:30, my mom texted me and asked if I could leave a little early and run by Kroger to pick up some vanilla extract for a dessert she was making. I agreed, since I wasn’t into the game we were playing, and at 11:00, I left his house. My friend’s house is what most people commonly associate with Texas. It’s located about two miles into a thick forest. You drive down this thin two-way road and then stumble upon about three acres worth of open pasture. It’s really neat. I was parked out by the road, which was about 100 yards away from their house. I couldn’t park in their driveway because his parents went out for a date night and were going to need to park in the driveway when they got home. So there I was, walking alone in the pitch dark towards my car. To give you a concept of how dark it was, I was pressing the lock/unlock button on my car keys so that the car lights came on for me to see. I reached my car, sat down in the driver’s seat, turned they key in the ignition, and shouted in fright. When the Jeep turned on, there was a hollow thump at the back of my car, and when I looked in the rear-view mirror I saw in vivid detail a long arm and hand plastered against my rear window. When I turned around to look at it, it had disappeared. After about ten seconds of heart-stopping shock, I broke into a fit of laughter. My friends and I were great pranksters, we prided ourselves in it. I, laughing, stepped out of the car to “confront my attacker”. But no one was there. Nothing. I checked the back seat. Nothing. Dismissing it as a shadow cast by one of the trees, I drove away from civilization.

On my way home, I decided to call my mom to find out if she needed anything else from Kroger. My mom has always been very kind, but very strict at the same time. When I got my driver’s license, she made me promise that I would not take anybody around in my car without her permission (she was concerned about the effects of peer pressure). In return, she would pay for my insurance, a worthy deal in my opinion. Anyway, I called her and was talking to her about the grocery list when she stopped talking to me. I remember the conversation that happened next word for word. She started asking me who was in the car with me. Confused, I replied that no one was in the car with me, not knowing why she was asking. She just slowly repeated the question over and over and over again, asking who was in the car with me. I vehemently kept replying that no one was in the car with me, but she remained skeptical. Angrily, she told me that she heard the girl laughing. The girl laughing? I couldn’t hear anything. Shaken, I told her that she was hearing her T.V., but she told me that she wasn’t watching T.V. She told me to call her when I dropped this non-existent girl off, and that then she would give me the grocery list. Then she hung up. I swear, every hair on my body stood on end. It stands on end as I type this now. How could she hear a girl laughing? Even back then I was a 190 lb. 5’10 guy who hadn’t made a girly laugh since I hit puberty in 4th grade. I immediately called my mom back, and protested that no one was in the car with me. She asked if it could be my radio making the sound. It couldn’t, she and I both knew, because the radio did not work. It sounded like my mom was just about to believe me, when all the lights on my dashboard went out. Most people don’t know this, but when your speedometer, fuel range, and all those lights go out, it gets really dark in the car. Really dark. I was about to tell my mom this, but then I felt my phone vibrate and I watched as the “Goodbye” message fittingly popped up onto my screen, and then turned off. Luckily, my headlights were still on, so I could see where I was going. That’s when the screaming started. The ear-splitting scream similar to that of a little girl broke the complete silence of the night. The exact same scream as when I hit the buzzard. I was too afraid to get out of the car in complete darkness in the middle of nowhere, yet I was extremely afraid being in the car. Panicked, I sped through the night. As I saw the lights of civilization grow closer, the screams lessened, then stopped. I pulled into the parking lot of Kroger, went inside and bought the vanilla extract, then called my mom to come pick me up. We left the car there overnight, and drove it back to our place the next day.

I called the old man after a week, asking if he had any weird or scary experiences in the car, besides the buzzards. All he replied was, “I WILL NOT BUY IT BACK”, then hung up. I never tried to call him again.

You might be asking why I choose to tell you this story now. The other day, I was reading the local newspaper. On the second page, there was an article about a man found dead the other day. He was found alone in the middle of a lonely road. The driver who reported it did not know that it was a man, she simply called animal control due to the immense number of buzzards surrounding him. The man was, as I’m sure you have guessed by now, the old man that sold me the car.

I have a Forrest Green Jeep Cherokee for sale. Perfect interior, one ding on the exterior. Clean title. 171,000 miles. $750, or best offer.

(Credit to GreenJeepCherokee, via Reddit)

15 year old boy comes home with a Porsche.

I can’t remember where I found this but it’s funny.

A fifteen-year-old came home with a Porsche and his parents began to yell and scream, “Where did you get that car?”

He calmly told them, “I bought it today.”

“With what money!?” demanded his parents. “We know what a Porsche costs.”

“Well,” said the boy, “this one cost me fifteen dollars.”

The parents began to yell even louder. “Who would sell a car like that for fifteen dollars!?” they asked.

“It was the lady up the street,” said the boy. “Don’t know her name – they just moved in. She saw me ride past on my bike and asked me if I wanted to buy a Porsche for fifteen dollars.”

“Oh my goodness!” moaned the mother, “she must be a child abuser. Who knows what she will do next? John, you go right up there and see what’s going on.”

So the boy’s father walked up the street to the house where the lady lived and found her out in the yard calmly planting flowers. He introduced himself as the father of the boy to whom she has sold a Porsche for fifteen dollars and demanded to know why she did it.

“Well,” she said, “this morning I got a phone call from my husband. I thought he was on a business trip, but I learned from a friend he has run off to Hawaii with his secretary and really doesn’t intend to come back. He claimed he was stranded and asked me to sell his new Porsche and send him the money. So I did.”

"The book of love has music in it" - Jack Barakat Imagine #6

Request : hi! can u do an imagine when y/n and jack are both singer, you’re married but then divorced? bcs the distance is too hard. thanks!!!

Of all the imagine I’ve written so far, this is my absolute favorite and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. (and you should really play the song later on :) ) 

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slow/wave/pulse/code (live! into my phone)

more noodling / now I want noodles / rediscovered when I shared that ‘nexus recordings’ thing and put some lyrics to it today / should sell my computer and just record on my cell phone from now on, like the warmth it gives my voice / I tried your feelings on I didn’t look the part you didn’t mean it yes you did how are you through it all oh well yeah don’t pick up the phone again keep arms and legs inside at all times a slow wave pulse code caught in the middle of cutup dialogue I made a friend no I didn’t I waited in the car

anonymous asked:

So I'm wondering if I can prompt you to write crisscolfer talking about the end of glee and how emotional they are, but how nothing changes with them, and maybe then they start talking about how it'll be even better because they're getting married, and they talk about wedding plans and they're all cuddly and fluffy and sweet. I just really want some crisscolfer fluffy wedding shit. I'd love to see you and your amazing talent do this.

Pairing: Chris/Darren
Rating: G
A/N: So…this is just straight-up dialogue because you mentioned them talking and then I couldn’t get just a conversation out of my head. So. Yeah. (Uhm, spoilers for the movie Seven I guess? Sorry if you haven’t seen it but like. It’s time.)

“What’s in the box?”

“Gwyneth Paltrow’s head.”

“Way to spoil it, asshole.”

“You watched it two days ago.”

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Need some extreme financial help... so SELLING SELLING SELLING!

I am falling knee deep into some financial struggles, due to a very cruddy, icky, pooey car.

A little backstory on this car. It is a 2008 Pontiac G6… for being only a 2008 and having only about 90,000 miles on it, I have put so much money into it already. From a new head gasket, to the AC unit, and now the brakes. Which I have previously “fixed” two other times. Turns out it was something deeper. SHOCKER.

It was originally my younger sisters vehicle, she had gotten herself into some trouble (she was a young reckless 16 year old), and she lost responsibility of the car. Which was leaving my grandmother with problems (she was the co-owner). I felt really bad for my grandma, and didn’t want her to have to dealing with so much money to have it taken away, I decided to take over the payments and ownership, in turn leaving me with all kinds of issues and repairs on this stupid thing that I did not foresee.

I have already asked so much from my parents. I just recently moved to California and now more and more problems just seem to keep popping up every day. I really do need this car…. I wish I could just dump this one and get a new one… but it is not possible.


I now have to pay about 600$ to fix the brakes (once again) as well as the calipers of the car. I work two part time jobs, and still do not have enough to afford it, especially after rent… therefore

I am putting up my Sailor Saturn cosplay for bid, and the money will go towards the fix.

I am extremely proud of this cosplay, and have only officially worn it once, but it is used. I am not an incredibly talented seamstress ( I wish I was), so to be honest it’s not the best cosplay out there… but I am pretty damn proud of it. I put blood, sweat and tears into making it, literally. There are a couple inaccuracies, but overall I love how it turned out. (Please read the descriptions on the listings for more info on the costume)

The special item here though is the Silence Glaive. I worked EXTRA hard on that baby. It is metal and wood, and breaks down for easy transporting. It is one of the first props I have ever made.

Please, if anything, all I ask is for you to pass this post around, to help! I really really appreciate it, and I really do want this costume to go to a good home. <3

Sailor Saturn Cosplay

Silence Glaive

I got a call yesterday to do one of the craziest gigs I had ever been asked to do. A woman was having dinner at Phillipe with her husband and her husbands best friend. They wanted a comedian to come and entertain them for a half hour at the table. They would pay 250 dollars. She sent me an email telling me a little about them. They both worked at Toyota, had three children, were Dominican, and loved Chris Rock and Katt Williams. She had asked other comedians to do this and she said they were too expensive. She said her friends said it would be awkward and tried to dissuade her but she wanted to do something different for his birthday this year. I arrived at Phillipe at 8, a half hour after they got there to allow them to get drunk, and the manager lead me to the table. “You’re the comedian?” he asked. I sat down at the table. The guy was huge and had several Jesus pieces. His wife was pretty and also had lots of bling. I sat down and said hello. A white woman passed our table and I said “Look at this white bitch!” It killed. His friend was black and I asked if they met in jail. They loved it. Then they told me that they had. We talked about jail and selling cars (they did quite well) and their kids. I told them I used to love cocaine. Every now and then I’d stop to point out someone at another table and say “This fucking Jew”. It murdered. As time went on they told me they had taken in their 85 year old neighbor who had lost his wife. They were taking him to the Dominican Republic because he was lonely. They were going to get him a hooker. We talked about how shady Major World is (they don’t work there) but how great a good scam is. We talked about my time in mortgages. I told them about one closing where a guy with dementia forgot where he was. He said “Where am I?” and his son said “Keep signing Daddy’s it’s almost over.” They roared. The management at Phillipe asked us to quiet down and we told them to fuck off. We talked about refugees “I’m nervous but I’ll sell them cars” said the wife. “This spring roll shit sucks” said the husband. I stayed longer than I had to because I genuinely enjoyed their company. Doing comedy you forget what’s it like to spend time with people who have balls. They told me about their new gun. It made me sad I spend time in Bushwick with people, who if they were a food, would be radishes. They paid me and I took their info. I hope to see them again. They guy gave me a spring roll when I left “Take it you fat as shit”. I thanked him. I’ve been doing comedy 5 years and I finally found two people I like.