#i cut off a foot of hair bc people kept calling me ma’am

[track-five]

why is the emo girl to transmasc louis stan pipeline actually real and why do we all want to be him

[heymantakemycruiser]

I had a bizarre yet fun day

First we start off with the idiots at the grocery store, I swear people have NO manners AT ALL. But it did take all the impulse control in me to not scream abt fish sticks and I have no idea why. I was feeling… Silly and destructive 😝

For legal matters that was a joke

Idk why I said that this is tumblr there aren’t any legal matters

Then we come home, I change and I almost hit someone cause I lost my brush and I have yet to find it. I put a SHIT ton of hairspray in my hair which I failed to style it properly when I left the first time bc I don’t think I know how to do that hairstyle. I was going for a Farrah Fawcett look but it did NOT hold the heat and was flat by the time I got home the first time so I coated my hair in spray and probably got it up my nose which is probably why I’m stuffy now. I think I need rollers for that style. I’m not good with curling irons or straighteners.

Then we got to le fabrique shoppe (aka Hobby Lobby) and the woman cutting my fabric kept going on and on and on about how she loved the fabric I chose and how she wanted some and I’m like uh okay what you do in your spare time is none of my business 😭 but no seriously she was nice it’s just funny to me

My mom almost destroyed something In JoAnns. No one knows why

Then we get to the iHop, which is always scary because we were downtown and we’re never downtown so it’s dangerous. And for whatever reason, when we get in the iHop I said “It’s chilly” and then my mind literally said “no this is the iHop” WHAT IS THAT PART OF YOUR BRAIN THAT DOES THAT

The iHop bathroom smelt of shit and chlorine. Lovely.

The music in there almost made me grab a gun from someone it’s downtown so I know someone had one especially considering there were many cops around.

Yes I know you probably think I live in Brooklyn or something but it’s literally Columbia SC.

Seriously, I wouldn’t make in NYC.

Well, I’d be fine, my mom wouldn’t be.

Then there was this ADORABLE LITTLE FUCKING STUFFED CHICKEN AND I WANTED HIM SO BADLY MY LIFE IS INCOMPLETE WITHOUT HIM.

Oh, I forgot to mention we’re at the general store now, there were no stuffed chickens at iHop.

I almost fell down the stairs. And what I mean by that is I felt my foot slightly slip off the stair.

My dads truck almost got the hood taken off of it. Seriously, they can’t make those parking garages a LITTLE higher?

I almost took home a Columbia parking lot lemon peel. Why? Idk.

Then we finally get to the zoo, not much really happened at the zoo. It was wonderful there were many lights. Not really. It was slightly lacking. I wanted to go on the carousel so bad but I got so sad when I realized I didn’t have a new special someone to go on the carousel with me. And for those who know me, it’s not who you’re thinking.

That’s a topic for another post that no one sees.

Then we’re on the way back, and we decide to go eat at Le Crisp Bucket (also known as the Cracker Barrel) and I’m literally still full from that. This woman there was literally arguing on the phone the whole time and I don’t know how she ate cause she wouldn’t shut her damn mouth. She kept yelling at these poor old people too.

Then my mom remembers she needs paint, so here we are back at Le Fabrique Shoppe. It’s literally about 20 minutes from closing. My mom and her poor vision called this poor man a ma’am. He didn’t seem to care so that’s good.

And my mom literally took the chocolate covered orange sticks into the Hobby Lobby just so my dad wouldn’t be able to eat them.

I feel like this day was… not a waste of time for sure. It was probably one of the best days of my life. It felt like we went on vacation. And I just recently got out of a really toxic relationship so I’m starting to be able to eat again and enjoy things. I think my Ed has been healed, possibly. Even my parents noticed that I’ve been eating more.

I wanted so badly to skip through the zoo with that guy :( it makes me so sad.

All the lights were so pretty tho.

So that was today. Pretty nice huh. I still wanna go to like the beach again so bad. Like so bad it almost hurts. God I haven’t stayed in a hotel in 4 years.

Anyways, that’s it for this post

[whatscallion]

“Just call me cake, cause I’m going straight to your ass, cowboy.” with Nat and Steve PLEASE

In the spirit of the upcoming month of Halloween …

Tagging @cptsteven bc i know she’ll like it too

It was the fifth annual Stark-o-Lantern Halloween party, taking place the weekend prior to the actual holiday itself, if only because it fell boringly in the middle of the week. No one had ever truly cared much for the gothic holiday, citing far more important activities to be had, the laziest being “listening to police scanners” ( courtesy of Clint Barton ). It wasn’t until the idea of unity and family came to surface in the team of the righteous did the holiday become something to look forward to.

Leave it to Tony to foot the bill to make it that way.

Property out north of the city had been bought ( much to Pepper’s chagrin ) and the proper people were hired ( also to Pepper’s chagrin ) to make each year more memorable than the last. A corn maze. A haunted mansion. A miniature carnival complete with rickety rides and rigged games. It felt important to provide a place where they could relax and mingle with one another without the “sir” and “ma’am” and weapons.

Mostly.

“I told you you couldn’t bring guns,” Tony admonished, catching sight of the Winghead dressed, unsurprisingly, for the Wild, Wild West. “I also told you that you couldn’t use the same costume as last year. This is just lazy, Steve.”

“It’s not lazy. You really think I had time to go down to Target and get something new?” Sheriff Rogers was holding an unnecessarily spiked hot apple cider and posing casually in fringed chaps, wranglers, a further fringed leather vest, and a crisp white Stetson. Had this not been the third time Tony had seen this outfit, he would’ve pointed out that he could’ve been in a remake of ‘True Grit’ seamlessly. But alas, he was left thinking of ‘Blazing Saddles’.

“Rogers, you’re killing me.” And it was at that point a rare moment of childish humor came into play: Steve pulled the plastic gun from his holster and clicked the trigger. “If I didn’t know it was impossible for you to get drunk, you’d have me thinking otherwise. I have to go make sure Barton isn’t hoarding candy for his kids. Please try to have fun.”

“You make it sound like I don’t know how to have fun-”

“Fun isn’t something you can really fake,” Sam chirped in over Steve’s shoulder, making the soldier jump a bit at the sudden appearance of his friend. “Ahaha, gotcha, huh?”

Sam was dressed … interestingly. Someone had wrapped him entirely in aluminum foil, drawing a very unimpressive circle on his chest. The perking of Steve’s eyebrow must’ve been question enough.

“I’m Aluminum Man. Y’know, like Iron Man but-” Words were cut off at the sheer confusion on Steve’s face. “Nevermind. Hey, you seen Buck around?”

“No, not yet.” He doubted his best friend would show up, not that he was really banking on it. In fact, he was hoping someone else would show up. “Haven’t seen nat either.”

“I’m sure they’ll show- oh mY GOD.” Sam spotted Buck, who had cut his hair short, dyed it blonde and was wearing one of the uniforms Clint had turned down. Sam was immediately howling with laughter, and Steve could not believe the defected assassin was taking a cheap shot at the archer in a parody costume. “YOU DID NOT.”

Buck grinned something snarky, pointedly ignoring the glare from the candied apples stand across the path. Clint was already planning his revenge of the greasy piece of sh-

“I had to. I couldn’t let all the stuff he says about me fly like that.”

“The blonde does not suit your complexion at all, man.”

“Oh good, then I look more like him than I originally thought.”

The trio had a solid snicker, spending time rounding up a variety of sugary goods, spiked hot chocolates ( of which Sam had ordered a “cup of me”, bringing Steve to facepalm ). Despite the time spent with the boys, which was surely a fun time, Steve had kept a keen eye out for a familiar silhouette and shade of crimson. Disappointment was slowly starting to settle into his bones, but more so at himself. He should’ve known better than to think Romanoff would attend one of these parties. Had she even gone to any of the prior ones? Or was her costume just that good? The revelation brought him to scrutinize costumes that hid faces, but he was left with more suspicions than answers.

A hand patting his back brought him thoughts back to the candy corn he’d been taking his time eating.

“Don’t worry, bud. You shouldn’t get down about Nat. She’s never been one to be like … out there, y’know?” Sam had had one too many spiked hot cocoas, but the sentiment remained the same.

“You’re right,” Steve admitted. “It’s not like I had anything planned, anyways.”

This was a lie. He’d wanted to kiss her in the corn maze. Was that too cheesy?

“Yes. That is really too cheesy,” Buck said, eating cotton candy from the end of an arrow. It hadn’t occurred to Steve that he’d been thinking outloud. For a moment, he was thankful for the lack of light in the night air since it meant no one could see just how red his cheeks were in a furious blush.

“Shut up. Let’s hit up the Haunted Mansion.” Sam swooped in, per usual, to save the day. Any kind of wallowing could be fixed in the eyes of Sam Wilson, despite him knowing how much Steve thought haunted mansions were cliche and boring.

When you are in a constant war with every bad guy in the universe, is there such a thing as a jumpscare anymore?

It was a way to pass time, so Steve couldn’t really argue with the boys, who almost always ribbed one another too much to even notice the zombie jumping out of the dark corner in the room or anything. Steve was just thankful that he had a handful of candy corn and two grown children to babysit.

Until they suddenly weren’t even around. When did he get alone in that room? The bland walls flipped to produce mirrors. A whole lot of mirrors, leaving the patriot to stare at several dimensions of himself, bathed in a sickly green light. He couldn’t help but notice that green really wasn’t his color.

Movement in the corner of his eye, and he nearly snapped his neck trying to catch it in time. All he was left with was, well, nothing. It made him think he was just seeing things because of the general ambience. It wouldn’t be the first time. Wanda was banned from using magic within the first ten minutes of her first appearance at one of these Halloween parties. That had been a James Wan movie made real.

Another movement from the corner of his eye, leaving him whirling to try and catch it. Again nothing.

“Ha ha, guys. Very funny, trying to scare an old man. We all know that isn’t happening.” Confidence painted his tone thickly, as if he was absolutely sure this was something Sam, Bucky, and Tony had cooked up in their free time. He wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest if that were the case.

Two fingers walked two inches up his spine, though he spun again to try and catch who’s fingers it was, only to be met with his own face looking back at him.

“Come on, guys. Using Wanda like this isn’t very nice.”

Two more inches, and he turned. He wasn’t met with his own face, but rather a neon glowing sign shining through the mirror that was creating an illusionary wall. The green light had changed its source from the bulbs overhead to this light alone.

It was a neon pair of green lips. Nothing special, and nothing particularly unnerving about it. An unseen white neon bulb flickered a skull and crossbones behind the lips. Steve rolled his eyes.

“This is just getting annoying,” he grumbled, looking around to try and find a way out. Calloused palms moved along the mirrors, leaving prints in his wake in his search for the exit. But the further he traveled from the neon, the darker the shadows grew.

He was met with another neon sign, though this time, it took on the crude illustration of a witch face. Rather than look as if it were fixed on a wall, it moved slightly. It would be now that Bucky would tell Steve that this was a golden rule in watching horror movies: the closer a character looks at something, the more likely there is to be a jumpscare.

So, naturally, Steve Rogers leaned in to try and see if he could make out what was attached to the neon face.

Instead of getting an answer, he was met with a quiet and remarkably sinister whisper in his ear despite there being nothing in the reflection.

“Just call me cake, cause I’m going straight to your ass, cowboy.”

It was followed swiftly with a loud SMACK! across his ass.

And thus, Steve Rogers nearly jumped out of his skin, crashing into not one, but two mirrors with flailing limbs and scattered candy corn.

With the breath stolen from him and nerves frayed, he laid in a heap of broken mirrors, fluorescent lights flickering to light above, only to be blotted out by that damned witch mask. He felt so cold in that moment, right up until that mask was pulled back, and the face of a very, very sneaky Russian was grinning down at him.

“NAT?!”

“Did I ever mention that I love Halloween?”

“NO?!”

“Shh.”

“NO!”

She helped him pipe down with that kiss he’d been wanting, though he would’ve greatly preferred his original idea of the corn maze to this.

But he couldn’t help but grin about it the next day.

[trade-baby-blues]

Looking Up

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Word Count: 1160

Warnings: Angsty, swearing

A/N: Requested by @brooke-taylor0323 for my 300 followers AU Celebration! :D In doing this I’ve figured out that meet messy AUs are my fave. Prompt was:  i’ve had a really awful day so i started kicking a car out of frustration and it turned out to be your car i’m so sorry.”  Hope you enjoy!!

The air was too thick in the office, choking you as you swallowed back tears. The once gentle hum of the air conditioner sounded like a wordless scream falling on the deaf ears of your supervisor as he sat across the desk from you, looking awkwardly at his hands.

“Fired,” you whispered again. You thought repeating the word would make it sound less foreign, but it felt just as strange on your tongue.

“Not fired,” he said, voice oozing the faux happiness you’d only experienced directed at customers, “Let go.” You were still trying to process what he said when he was ushering you back to your office, which had already been packed up. Four years of college, five years of work, and one fading dream all stuffed into two cardboard boxes propped on top of your now empty desk.

You struggled to balance both boxes under your chin as you made your way to the elevator, mind still racing with thoughts of what you were going to do now. This had been your dream job, the vision that kept you going through college when the stress from tests got too much, when you sacrificed social time to work at internship after internship. You reached forward to press the call button when you saw the sign on the elevator. Under maintenance. Your throat burned and you had to pinch your eyes shut to keep yourself from crying. You could feel your shirt clinging to you as sweat began sliding down your spine. Your arms were shaking lightly already from the strain of carrying the boxes. With a sigh, you went to the stairwell, hoping your arms would hold up until you got to your bike.

The stairwell light flickered, making the way down more ominous. Your footsteps echoed in the hallway, and you tried to commit the sound to memory. The droning of the fluorescent lights and the distant smell of toner. You didn't realize how much you'd miss. You were rounding the corner to the second floor when someone came flying out of the stairwell exit, crashing into you and almost sending you careening down the stairs. You latched onto the railing, dropping your boxes but managing to stay standing.

“Sorry,” the person said, bolting down the stairs without stopping to help you up. You watched your belongings tumble down, echoing in the hall and in your head, reminding you how hollow you felt now. A picture frame hit the floor and shattered. Your Christmas office party two years ago. The year Jim told you you were getting a promotion. You collected your things as you went down the stairs, stopping at the picture with a heavy heart, walking past to leave it for the spiders. Clearly, you didn't matter to the company so they shouldn't matter to you.

The brightness of the sun lit up the shadows of your face, and you walked out of the office head held high, a plan forming (if you could call a date with a bottle of vodka a plan). You still had an apartment. You still had your bike. You were going to get through this. You’d take a couple days off and really enjoy your newfound freedom before hitting a few local places that were always hiring. You opened your eyes, ready to take on the rest of the day, and your heart shattered.

Your bike was stuck under a car, tire rim twisted into a menacing metal smile. The pink wicker basket that normally sat on your handlebars was cracked in half across the sidewalk. The boxes slipped from you grasp again, contents hitting the ground and scattering. A few papers got caught up in the wind and blew away along with any shred of self-preservation you had left. You pushed your sleeves up slowly, methodically, as your mind went into autopilot. As you walked towards the offending car, blissfully unaware of what was to come, a smile spread across your face. You were definitely losing it.

Your boot bounced straight off the tire the first time you kicked. You swung your foot again, hitting the rim this time. Pain shot through your foot but you swung again mercilessly. The pain kept you grounded, helped you fight against the haziness that tore at your vision and the tightness building in your chest. You kicked again, hitting the bumper. Tears began to fall freely now as you kicked the bumper again, this time leave a small dent. You lifted your foot to swing again when a strong hand grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the car.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? That’s my fucking car.”

“And that’s my fucking bike you ran over,” you screamed. People on the streets were turning to look, but you couldn’t find the energy to be embarrassed. Why not let them get first row seats to watch your life fall apart? You balled up your fist and hit him weakly against the chest. “It was all I had.” Another swat, another sob. “And you b-broke it.” You staggered back against his car, letting the despair wash over you.

The man stood dumbfounded, not quite sure if you would hit him again or keep crying. Although, he probably deserved another smack for making such an angel hurt so deeply. God, he can’t remember the last time he saw a face as perfect as yours, hair tumbling down and framing it. He wasn’t exactly a religious man, but damn if Leonard McCoy wasn’t having a spiritual moment right now. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said gently, reaching to put a hand on your arm. When you didn’t pull away, he started to rub small circles on your skin. “I’ll buy you a new bike, I promise.”

“No,” you said, choking back another sob, “No, I’m sorry it’s just been a really shitty day. I got fired and then the elevator was broken and I fell down the stairs and then I found out my bike was broken and now I’m spilling my guts to a really hot stranger on the street and I just can’t stop talking I just can’t sto-”

Luckily, another sob cut you off before you could keep rambling on. The man in front of you only laughed, pulling you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling his broad chest pressed against yours, feeling protected. “How about you let me buy you lunch, sugar? I know a restaurant close by with a pecan pie so good I think my mama must’ve sold them the recipe.”

“I’m allergic to pecans,” you muttered into his chest. He chuckled again as he reached past you to open the passenger door. You shamelessly ran your hands across his chest and down to his waist, feeling every dip and curve of his muscles through his white dress shirt. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” you muttered as you slipped into the car.

Tags: 

@outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @yourtropegirl @trekken81 @feelmyroarrrr @yukki-art @atari-writes @pabegay1 @bolontiku

@daybreak96 @8bit-arc-reactor @jimtkirkisabitch

This is the Bones I pictured for this bc blue suit beardy Karl Urban is my weakness: