Has the diagnosed attention span of a goldfish

moonflowerlights: If you’re having a bad day, just remember that the Raptor sounds from Jurassic...

Mon, 20 May 2013 11:03:27 -0400

If you’re having a bad day, just remember that the Raptor sounds from Jurassic Park were actually a recording of Turtles having sex.

babyangelcastiel: drilltowardstheheavens: donkeykongcountry2: i love that world war 2 is called...

Mon, 20 May 2013 11:01:18 -0400

babyangelcastiel:

drilltowardstheheavens:

donkeykongcountry2:

i love that world war 2 is called world war 2

it sounds like the sequel to an action movie

“WORLD WAR 2….

GERMANY’S BACK, AND THIS TIME….

IT’S PERSONAL”

this has a great deal of accuracy though

#god it better not be a trilogy

msmandapants: Yes, perfect.

Mon, 20 May 2013 10:47:55 -0400

msmandapants:

Yes, perfect.

poptech: And the highest paid public employee in your state...

Mon, 20 May 2013 09:01:29 -0400

poptech:

And the highest paid public employee in your state is…

I am so exhausted after this weekend. I kept dozing off in the car on the way home, and while...

Sun, 19 May 2013 22:01:46 -0400

I am so exhausted after this weekend. I kept dozing off in the car on the way home, and while catching up on tumblr. I think I’m just gonna look up those recipes tomorrow.

~~Also it’s silly that I’m so tired because I spent most of the weekend sitting at my computer and I also got almost eight hour of sleep each night~~

Diane Duane: shouldertappingghosts: If I was a famous author I would publish a book...

Sun, 19 May 2013 21:22:17 -0400

Diane Duane: shouldertappingghosts: If I was a famous author I would publish a book...:

dduane:

shouldertappingghosts:

If I was a famous author I would publish a book with ten different endings which all went to print with varying degrees of rarity, but not tell the fans about it so that I could watch their confusion as they disagree over how the story ended. Then when they figured it out I would ‘come clean’, telling them that I had released eleven alternate endings and watch them panic again as they all try to find the last ending.

And then you would instantly be forced to flee to the first of a number of “undisclosed locations” where you would spend the few days or weeks remaining to you, as your annoyed fans would band together to relentlessly hunt you down, and then fight duels for the right to kill you in your sleep.
(amused look) Possibly you might want to develop another way to amuse yourself should you become a famous author, as messing with your fans’ heads is, uh, not a survival-oriented behavior. :)

sexintartarus: excuse you our porn is of the finest quality

Sun, 19 May 2013 14:27:05 -0400

sexintartarus:

excuse you our porn is of the finest quality

Photo

Sun, 19 May 2013 09:01:08 -0400

dduane: secretlymisha: as far as i can tell from my dash there’s some sort of gay musical olympics...

Sun, 19 May 2013 01:48:30 -0400

dduane:

secretlymisha:

as far as i can tell from my dash there’s some sort of gay musical olympics going on that only europe was invited to

That would about sum it up, yeah. :)

Merf. Thinking is Hard.: leupagus: jaaaaaaaaaackfrost: frostlands: jaaaaaaaaaackfrost: but what...

Sun, 19 May 2013 01:47:06 -0400

Merf. Thinking is Hard.: leupagus: jaaaaaaaaaackfrost: frostlands: jaaaaaaaaaackfrost: but what...:

leupagus:

jaaaaaaaaaackfrost:

frostlands:

jaaaaaaaaaackfrost:

but what if a vampire drank the blood of someone who was anemic like would they be seriously grossed out

“what the fuck is this”

“i have anemia”

“can you take something for that you should probably take something for that this shit is nasty to drink let alone have running through your body i’m setting up a doctor’s appointment for you”

“dude really you don’t have to just leave what the fu—”

“you disgust me here take these iron supplements”

“where did you even get th—”

“shut up and take your pills and dont forget your vitamin D”

“i’m going to check up on you weekly to make sure you’re taking them”

“that’s not necessary”

“maybe we should work on a dietary plan with foods rich in iron and other things for you”

“do you get this involved with all of your meals”

VAMPIREDUDE:
did u get the cookbook i orderd 4 u

ME:
Oh my god, first of all stop using text speak, you told me you were 278, second how did you know where I LIVED, third yes I got it.

VAMPIREDUDE:
heard onions were good 4 blood, eat lots

ME:
So you can have a tasty meal? I guess you’d rather I stay away from garlic, huh.

VAMPIREDUDE:
UR being v rude I just got u a present!!!

ME:
THE COOKBOOK IS CALLED “HOW TO TASTE DELICIOUS,” I AM CALLING THE COPS

alright class, today we're going to do our unit on fanfiction. We're going to start with the Talmud and move on through to Harry Potter. We're going to use this one fic I can't remember the ending of, but don't worry. And you, hiding your knitting under your desk: take it out and let everyone pet your yarn.

Sun, 19 May 2013 01:09:00 -0400

….10/10 this is almost exactly right.

We could never do an entire unit on fanfiction in only one day, though. At least a month.

traumachu: The first time Sherlock kisses him, it’s up against...

Sat, 18 May 2013 21:04:14 -0400

traumachu:

The first time Sherlock kisses him, it’s up against the lockers in warm, hazy afternoon and John watches it happen in slow motion, the way they say that your life slows before your eyes right when you’re about to die.

John had seen Sherlock around school, of course - as if anyone could miss him - leather jacket and dark styled hair and an attitude that would give the devil himself a run for his money. He’d seen him on his motorcycle showing up late in third period, seen him in his fancy purple racing car, seen him perched on the rails on the stairs, smoking on school property, real casual-like. The devil was in a boy like that, was what John’s Aunt Aggie would have said, but she was miles and miles away, back home someplace John could not call home anymore.

“Don’t you know? That’s Sherlock Holmes,” Molly had said, when John had first asked, in tones that John thought you really ought to save for church. Or Elvis.

John didn’t know. He didn’t know how a person could be like that, talk like that, live and breathe like that. And he would have gone on fine not knowing, lived his whole life not knowing, but the problem was, Sherlock had seen him too.

Sherlock had eyes like the pale blue fire that flared when you first lit a stove. He had eyes like frost on metal pipes in winter. And when he looked at you, he really looked at you, straight through you, straight to the core of you, down to everything that you were and up to everything that you are. Sherlock made John feel like his outsides were glass and his insides were a museum. He made him feel like the plastic anatomy model in Bio lab. He made him feel on display.

He made him feel hot and funny, too, in ways that John definitely didn’t know anything about, but kind of wanted to.

Sherlock caught him looking once. He’d caught John watching himself being watched, and Sherlock, he’d smirked, just a twist of his lips that somehow made something reflexively twist inside John’s body, as if the two could be somehow connected. Sherlock’s lips, John’s body. Oh God. What a connection to make. He’d tingled all the way up to and through last period, and when he got home later, he couldn’t make sense of any of his notes from that day.

Nothing makes any sense at all when Sherlock finds him after practice, school hallways empty and Sherlock’s eyes on him like frost and fire. There’s a look in Sherlock’s eyes that’s like a coyote after a lean winter gone on too long.

And John, he’s never felt so stupid, knees and elbows bruised up from practice, hair wet and flat against his head from his shower, shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin because he didn’t have the patience to wait to dry properly. He’s parceled out to awkward pieces under that look, indexed down to his smudged glasses and the spot he forgot to wash behind his ear.

When Sherlock hedges close John tenses, knowing much about fighting and what to expect. Growing up small he’d had to learn kids some respect, had himself learned the taste of blood early on in life. He can sidestep a punch easily enough but doesn’t know how to miss this, something else this, hands on his shoulders and his back slammed up against the locker, and time slowing to molasses when Sherlock’s face comes close and then closer and then -

It happens honey-drip slow, John’s eyes bright wide open and watching Sherlock’s face come close the whole time like waiting for the moon to eclipse the sun, going cross-eyed from looking until Sherlock becomes a blur of pale skin and dark hair and Sherlock is closing his eyes and John wonders whether he should close his too and then, contact, then - oh my god, this. For the first time in his life, another person’s mouth is pressed to his.

This.

This is a kiss.

John’s lungs contract with breath stopped and his body tense and stopped and his brain tries to catch up but then that stops, too.

It’s an impossibility, isn’t it, two boys kissing? It doesn’t feel so impossible when Sherlock slips his tongue - soft, wet, hot - right into his mouth. John didn’t even know you could do that, tongue into another person’s mouth, but it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels just fine. Better than fine.

Thinks of Aunt Aggie thumping her Bible, hellfire and damnation.

Brain must be working again.

Stupid brain is broken; Aunt Aggie’s the last person John wants to be thinking about right now. He thankfully doesn’t think of her anymore when Sherlock’s tongue slides against his, Sherlock’s body pressing against him.

Sherlock, with his hands on John’s shoulders. A frantic skitter of a thought: the drop that trickles down the back of John’s neck - is that water or sweat?

It’s too much to process, all at once. The world is spinning around them. He pushes Sherlock off of him, energy uncoiled.

“I’ve never been kissed before,” John admits, breath tumbling out, words pouring out of him like he’s in confession. Realizes how uncool that is to say the moment he’s said it; Sherlock with his eyes that could figure you out and a mouth that could undo a person like tugging out just the right string of a knot.

Has to make up for it, do something cool, and he fists a hand in the lapel of Sherlock’s leather jacket to pull him close. “Do that again,” he says, and his voice only trembles a little.

He’d always imagined a girl, soft and fragrant, holding hands and going steady. Vague ideas of sharing milkshakes and dances, eventually white dress and chapel bells. He’d never imagined this, lips wet with another boy’s saliva and wanting to try it some more, hard body against his, stomach clenching and flipping when he thinks about it. The impossible feeling of his heart flipping like it’s been turned upside down and is now trying to right itself, over and over again until it doesn’t know which way is up. Sherlock’s hand underneath his chin, leaning in to brush their lips together and John’s whole body gone warm and tingling, trying to come alive, and he’s not quite sure which way is up.

There’s silence in the space between them, the space between their breaths. Anything is a possibility in the space between their breaths.

Sherlock says, “No,” against his mouth, and everything in John’s body crashes spectacularly. It’s horrible. It’s unfair. John now knows what it feels like to be kissed. He cannot simply go back to his previous life of being un-kissed, never-kissed, not knowing and not wanting. How did anyone live their lives, really, knowing this feeling and then not wanting?

Sherlock adds, “Not here, where anybody can cast an eyeball at you.” And he smirks, smarmy, infuriating expression, damn him. John wants to rub the smirk off his face. He wants to rub the smirk right off Sherlock’s face with his mouth. Wait. No.

Well, maybe not no. John looks at Sherlock’s mouth. Maybe not such a bad idea.

Sherlock has a smile like the devil himself, all empty promises and temptation. Eyes like hellfire, pale blue blazing in the night.

He holds out his hand, beckoning.

John looks at him, pinned by his gaze as much as he’d been pinned by Sherlock’s body against the lockers. His own breath is hot in his chest, still trying to catch up. Wants to press his fingers to his mouth to see if he can still feel the kiss there, body tingling all over in all the places they’d touched, pressed together.

Sherlock with all the knowledge in the world like he’s holding out a shiny red apple, and just a little taste couldn’t hurt. Just one little taste like the forbidden touch of tongue inside his mouth. The rush in John’s body like running too close to the edge of the cliff, never knowing if the next step is fall or fly.

Sin with joy, sin with abandon.

John takes Sherlock’s hand.

shavingryansprivates: hannabarbarian: basketball is so stupid like okay cool you can breathe in...

Sat, 18 May 2013 18:39:26 -0400

shavingryansprivates:

hannabarbarian:

basketball is so stupid like okay cool you can breathe in poison gas for 20 minutes and then die what’s the big deal

i don’t think that’s how you play basketball

arostine: pretend to be me in my ask and ill rate its accuracy /10

Sat, 18 May 2013 18:27:36 -0400

arostine:

pretend to be me in my ask and ill rate its accuracy /10

evawrites: You know those times when it’s just you, some blood, and a complete absence of memory as...

Sat, 18 May 2013 18:25:51 -0400

evawrites:

You know those times when it’s just you, some blood, and a complete absence of memory as to how you got to this point

FACT: Pansexuals have been known to pursue inappropriate relationships with cookware

Sat, 18 May 2013 18:20:05 -0400

someonecalledmefamous: mu5icliz: germansam: tokyosluts: Sleeping is nice because youre not...

Sat, 18 May 2013 14:34:27 -0400

someonecalledmefamous:

mu5icliz:

germansam:

tokyosluts:

Sleeping is nice because youre not actually dead and youre not awake so its a win-win situation

It’s like being dead without the commitment.

an open relationship with death

death with benefits

Photo

Sat, 18 May 2013 13:17:59 -0400

gaycrusader: it only takes 2 ingredients to make a baby doES THAT NOT BLOW YOUR MIND LIKE AT LEAST...

Sat, 18 May 2013 13:16:43 -0400

gaycrusader:

it only takes 2 ingredients to make a baby

doES THAT NOT BLOW YOUR MIND LIKE AT LEAST THERE SHOULD BE SOME FLOUR OR SOMETHING

evanedinger: adrians1: a friend came round to help me revise...

Sat, 18 May 2013 13:14:29 -0400

evanedinger:

adrians1:

a friend came round to help me revise and forgot to log out of her facebook on my laptop so I’ve spent the last 20 minutes devoting her facebook to trains.

I’ve also got the middle name “ILikeTrains” pending and have joined 50 “I love trains” groups.